12366	----	Proofreading Team. THE COST OF SHELTER. By ELLEN H. RICHARDS Instructor in Sanitary Chemistry, Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 1905. THE HOUSEHOLD EXISTS FOR ONE OR MORE OF THE FOLLOWING REASONS: Two or more persons form an alliance (a) for protection against the outside world; (b) for protection against the outside world and for the rearing of children; (c) for the greater gain in convenience which the common life can give over that of single effort; (d) for companionship; (e) for the greater independence it gives to the group; (f) for the greater ease in satisfying one's prejudices or whims. TABLE OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. THE HOUSE AND WHAT IT SIGNIFIES IN FAMILY LIFE. TYPIFIED IN PIONEER AND COLONIAL HOMES, THE CENTRES OF INDUSTRY AND HOSPITALITY CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE CONSIDERED AS A MEASURE OF SOCIAL STANDING CHAPTER III. LEGACIES FROM THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, ILL ADAPTED TO CHANGED CONDITIONS, CAUSE PHYSICAL DETERIORATION AND DOMESTIC FRICTION CHAPTER IV. THE PLACE OF THE HOUSE IN THE SOCIAL ECONOMY OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY CHAPTER V. POSSIBILITIES IN SIGHT PROVIDED THE HOUSEWIFE IS PROGRESSIVE CHAPTER VI. COST PER PERSON AND PER FAMILY FOR VARIOUS GRADES OF SHELTER CHAPTER VII. RELATION BETWEEN COST OF SHELTER AND TOTAL INCOME TO BE EXPENDED CHAPTER VIII. TO RENT OR TO OWN: A DIFFICULT QUESTION THE COST OF SHELTER. CHAPTER I. THE HOUSE AND WHAT IT SIGNIFIES IN FAMILY LIFE; TYPIFIED IN PIONEER AND COLONIAL HOMES, THE CENTERS OF INDUSTRY AND HOSPITALITY. "There is no noble life without a noble aim."--CHARLES DOLE. The word Home to the Anglo-Saxon race calls to mind some definite house as the family abiding-place. Around it cluster the memories of childhood, the aspirations of youth, the sorrows of middle life. The most potent spell the nineteenth century cast on its youth was the yearning for a home of their own, not a piece of their father's. The spirit of the age working in the minds of men led them ever westward to conquer for themselves a homestead, forced them to go, leaving the aged behind, and the graves of the weak on the way. There must be a strong race principle behind a movement of such magnitude, with such momentous consequences. Elbow room, space, and isolation to give free play to individual preference, characterized pioneer days. The cord that bound the whole was love of home,--one's own home,--even if tinged with impatience of the restraints it imposed, for home and house do imply a certain restraint in individual wishes. And here, perhaps, is the greatest significance of the family house. It cannot perfectly suit _all_ members in its details, but in its great office, that of shelter and privacy--ownership--the house of the nineteenth century stands supreme. No other age ever provided so many houses for single families. It stands between the community houses of primitive times and the hives of the modern city tenements. As sociologically defined, the family means a common house--common, that is, to the family, but excluding all else. This exclusiveness is foreshadowed in the habits of the majority of animals, each pair preempting a particular log or burrow or tree in which to rear its young, to which it retreats for safety from enemies. Primitive man first borrowed the skins of animals and their burrowing habits. The space under fallen trees covered with moss and twigs grew into the hut covered with bark or sod. The skins permitted the portable tent. It is indeed a far cry from these rude defences against wind and weather to the dwelling-houses of the well-to-do family in any country to-day, but the need of the race is just the same: protection, safety from danger, a shield for the young child, a place where it can grow normally in peaceful quiet. It behooves the community to inquire whether the houses of to-day are fulfilling the primary purposes of the race in the midst of the various other uses to which modern man is putting them. As already shown, shelter in its first derivation, as well as in its common use, signifies protection from the weather. Bodily warmth saves food, therefore is an economy in living. From the first it also implied protection from enemies, a safe retreat from attack and a refuge when wounded. But above all else it has, through the ages, stood for a safe and retired place for the bringing up of the young of the species. The colonial houses of New England with large living-room, dominated by the huge fireplace with its outfit of cooking utensils, with groups of buildings for different uses clustered about them, giving protection to the varied industries of the homestead, illustrate the most perfect type of family life. Each member had a share in the day's work, therefore to each it was home. To the old homestead many a successful business man returns to show his grandchildren the attic with its disused loom and spinning-wheel; the shop where farm-implements were made, in the days of long winter storms, to the accompaniment of legend and gossip; the dairy, no longer redolent of cream. These are reminders of a time past and gone, before the greed of gain had robbed even these houses of their peace. The backward glance of this generation is too apt to stop at the transition period, when the factory had taken the interesting manufactures out of the hands of the housewife and left the homestead bereft of its best, when the struggle to make it a modern money-making plant, for which it was never designed, drove the young people away to less arduous days and more exciting evenings. This stage of farm life was altogether unlovely, not wholly of necessity, but because the adjustment was most painful to the feelings and most difficult to the muscles of the elders. Because the family ideal was the ruling motive, the house-building of the colonial period shows a more perfect adaptation to family life than any other age has developed. Where is the boasted adaptability of the American? He should be ready to see the effect of the inevitable mechanical changes and modify his ideas to suit. For it cannot be too often reiterated that it is a case of _ideas_, not of wood and stone and law. This homestead has passed into history as completely as has the Southern colonial type, differing only in arrangement. Climate, as well as domestic conditions, demanded a more complete separation of the manufacturing processes, including cooking, laundry, etc., otherwise the ideal was the same. "The house" meant a family life, a gracious hospitality, a busy hive of industry, a refuge indeed from social as well as physical storms. Work and play, sorrow and pleasure, all were connected with its outward presentment as with the thought. For its preservation men fought and women toiled, but, alas! machinery has swept away the last vestige of this life and, try as the philanthropist may to bring it back, it will never return. The very essence of that life was the _making of things_, the preparation for winter while it was yet summer, the furnishing of the bridal chest years before marriage. Fancy a bride to-day wearing or using in the house anything five years old! There are no more pioneer and colonial communities on this continent. Railroads and steamboats and electric power have made this rural life a thing of the past. Let us not waste tears on its vanishing, but address ourselves to the future. There are two directions in which great change in household conditions has occurred quite outside the volition of the housekeeper. They are the disappearance of industries, and lack of permanence in the homestead. Those who are busily occupied in productive work of their own are contented and usually happy. The results of their efforts, stored for future use--barns filled with hay or grain, shelves of linen and preserves--yield satisfaction. Destructive consumption may be pleasurable for the moment, but does not satisfy. The child pulls the stuffing from the doll with pleasure, but asks for another in half an hour. The delicious meal daintily served is a joy for an hour. A room put in perfect order, clean, tastefully decorated, is a delight to the eye for three hours and then it must be again cleaned and rearranged. Is this productive work? Is there any reason why we should be satisfied with it or happy in it? In an earlier time, that from which we derive so many of our cherished ideals, the house built by or for the young people was used as a homestead by their children and their children's children. Customs grew up slowly, and for some reason. Furniture, collected as wanted, found its place; all the routine went as by clockwork. Saturday's baking of bread and pies went each on to its own shelf, as the cows went each to her own stall. If the duties were physically hard, the routine saved worrying. To-day how few of us live in the house we began life with! How few in that we occupied even ten years ago! And this number is growing smaller and smaller. The housewife has not time to form habits of her own; she engages a maid and expects her to fall at once into the family ways, when the family has no ways. In the sociological sense, shelter may mean protection from noise, from too close contact with other human beings, enemies only in the sense of depriving us of valuable nerve-force. It should mean sheltering the children from contact with degrading influences. Charles P. Neill, United States Commissioner of Labor, in his address at the New York School of Philanthropy, July 16, 1905, said: "In my own estimation home, above all things, means privacy. It means the possibility of keeping your family off from other families. There must be a separate house, and as far as possible separate rooms, so that at an early period of life the idea of rights to property, the right to things, to privacy, may be instilled." There may be such a thing as too much shelter. To cover too closely breeds decay. Are we in danger of covering ourselves and our children too closely from sun and wind and rain, making them weak and less resistant than they should be? The prevalence of tuberculosis and its cure by fresh air seems to indicate this. The attempt to gain privacy under prevailing conditions tends this way. Hitherto students of social economics have usually considered the most pressing problem in the life of the wage-earner to be that of sufficient and suitable food. But in any large city and in most smaller communities there are found those who have refined instincts, aspirations for a life of physical and moral cleanness, who by force of circumstances are obliged to come in contact with filth and squalor and careless disorder in order to find shelter. If they can be kept from degenerating, their rise when it comes will lift those below them, but it is a Herculean task to lift them by lifting all below as well. The burden which presses most heavily on this valuable material for social betterment is that of shelter rather than of food. The thought underlying this whole series on Cost is that the place to put the leaven of progress is in the middle. The class to work for is the great mass of intelligent, industrious, and ambitious young people turned out by our public schools with certain ideals for self-betterment, but in grave danger of losing heart in the crush due to the pressure of society around them and above them. They fear to incur the responsibility of marriage when they see the pecuniary requirements it involves. This growing body makes up so large a proportion of the whole in America that, once aroused, it may become an all-powerful force for regeneration, thanks to the pervading influence of public-school education when enlisted on the side of right. Faith in the uprightness of American youth is so strong that strenuous effort for their enlightenment is justified. Once they have their attention drawn to the need of action, they will act. Self-preservation is one of the strongest instincts, and it may be dangerous to call upon the self-interest of these inexperienced souls; but for the sake of the results we must risk the lesser evil, if we can develop a resolution to secure a personal and race efficiency. When the young people, with a deep appreciation of the possibilities of sane and wholesome living, marry and attempt to realize their ideals, the conditions are all against them. They find little sympathy in their yearnings for a rational life, and soon give up the effort, deciding that they are too peculiar. They slip almost insensibly into the routine of their neighbors. There is great need of a cooperation of like-minded young married people to form a little community, setting its own standards and living a fairly independent life. Two or three such groups would do more than many sermons to awaken attention to the problem before the race to-day. Shall man yield himself to the tendencies of natural selection and be modified out of existence by the pressure of his environment, or shall he turn upon himself some of the knowledge of Nature's forces he has gained and by "conscious evolution" begin an adaptation of the environment to the organism? For we no longer hold with Robert Owen and the socialists that man is necessarily controlled and moulded by his surroundings, that he is absolutely subject to the laws of animal evolution. A new era will dawn when man sees his power over his own future. Then, and not till then, will come again that willingness to sacrifice present ease and pleasure for the sake of race progress, which alone can make the restrained life a satisfaction. The environment is, more largely than we think, the house and the manner of life it forces upon us. Therefore the first point of attack is the shelter under which the family life of the newly married pair establishes itself. If it is too large for their income, it leads to extravagance and debt before the first two years have passed; if it is too small, it cramps the generous and hospitable impulses. If unsuited to this need, it irritates and deforms character, as a plaster cast compresses a limb encased in it. Imagine the young people beginning life in the average city flat, at a rent of twenty to thirty dollars a month, with its shams, its makeshifts, its depressing, unsanitary, morally unsafe quarters for the maid, its friction with janitor and landlord--the whole sordid round necessitated by the mere manner of building, and by that only. A few strong souls flee to the country. Counting the cost and finding that all the earnings go to mere living, they decide to get that living in company with nature under free skies--their own employers. Such may live in Altruria with the happy zest of the authors of that charming sketch. It is not given to many of earth's children to be so well mated and so heavenly-wise. The young man has been brought up to consider the house the young wife's prerogative, and she--well, she has been trained to believe that housewifely wisdom will come to her as unsought as measles. Two thirds the friction in the early years of married life is caused by the house and its defects, resulting in dissatisfaction, disenchantment, and the flight to a hotel or non-housekeeping apartment. If some of the problems to be faced and the difficulties in solving them could be presented to the young people to be studied and discussed before the actual encounter came, they would be more prepared. In discussing this part of the subject, as in the consideration of the Cost of Living in general and the Cost of Food, we shall deal in particular with incomes of from $1000 to $5000 a year for families of five, recognizing that under present-day conditions the annual sum of $1500 to $3000 means the greatest struggle between desires and power of gratifying them. On the surface it appears that the things which go to make up delicate cleanly living cost more and more each year, with no limit in sight. It is not only the poet who moves from one boarding-house to another; the young clerk and struggling business man go into smaller and smaller quarters until the traditional limit of room to swing a cat is reached. The constantly diminishing space occupied by a family seems to prove that the 40% increase in the cost of living within a few years is not caused by an advance in the necessary cost of food; it is certainly not due to the increased cost of necessary clothes. It is more than probable that the increasing cost of shelter and all that it implies--increased water-supply, service, repairs, etc.--is the main factor in the undoubtedly increased expense. This will be considered in some detail in Chapter VIII. While the socialist may take the ground that salaries must be raised to keep pace with the rise in living expenses, the student of social ethics--Euthenics, or the science of _better_ living--may well ask a consideration of the topic from another standpoint. Is this increased cost resulting in higher efficiency? Are the people growing more healthy, well-favored, well-proportioned, stronger, happier? If not, then is there not a fallacy in the common idea that more money spent means a fuller life? Recent examination of school children in various cities in England and America has revealed a state of physical ill-being most deplorable in the present, and horrifying to contemplate for its future results. One has only to keep one's eyes open in passing the streets to become aware of the physical deterioration of thousands of the wage-earners. One has only to listen to the housewife's complaints of inefficiency, lack of strength among the housemaids, to realize that the world's work is not being well done in so far as it depends upon human hands. This loss of efficiency is usually attributed to insufficient food and long hours, but it is at least an open question if housing conditions are not the more potent factor not only in the case of the very poor, but even in the case of the family having an income of $2000 a year. Life in a boarding-house adapted from the use by one family to that of five or six without increase of bathing and ventilating conveniences, with old-style plumbing, cannot be mentally or bodily invigorating. The house cannot be said to be a place of safety so long as the "great white plague" lurks in every dark corner--tuberculosis, colds, influenza, etc., fasten themselves upon its occupants. Explorers exposed to extremes of weather do not thus suffer. The dark, damp house incubates the germs. But homes there must be: places of safety for children, of refuge for elders. Men will marry and women may keep house. How shall it be managed so as to be in harmony with present-day demands? Certainly not by ignoring the difficulties. Progress in any direction does not come through wringing of hands and deploring the decadence of the present generation. President Roosevelt's advice is to bring up boys and girls to overcome obstacles, not to ignore them. Let the educated, intelligent young people join in devising a way to surmount this obstacle as the engineers of 1890 invented new ways of crossing impassable gorges and "impossible" mountain ranges. The writer has no ready-prepared panacea to offer. Patent medicine is not the remedy. This kind cometh out only by fasting and prayer. A long course of diet is needed to cure a chronic disease. This little volume is intended merely as a spur to the imagination of the indolent student, to arouse him to the mental effort required to deal with the readjustment of ideas to conditions before it is too late. It is no exaggeration to say that the social well-being of the community is threatened. The habits of years are broken up; sad to say, the middle-aged will suffer unrelieved, but the young can be incited to grapple with the situation and hew out for themselves a way through. Certain elements in the problem will be touched upon in the following pages as a result of much going to and fro in the "most favored land on earth." Certain questions will be raised as to what constitutes a home and a shelter for the family in the twentieth-century sense of both family and shelter. CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE CONSIDERED AS A MEASURE OF SOCIAL STANDING. It is not what we lack, but what we see others have, that makes us discontented. There has been noted in every age a tendency to measure social preëminence by the size and magnificence of the family abode. Mediaeval castles, Venetian palaces, colonial mansions, all represented a form of social importance, what Veblen has called conspicuous waste. This was largely shown in maintaining a large retinue and in giving lavish entertainments. The so-called patronage of the arts--furnishings, fabrics, pictures, statues, valued to this day--came under the same head of rivalry in expenditure. In America a similar aspiration results in immense establishments far beyond the needs of the immediate family. But, unlike society in the middle ages, social aspiration does not stop short at a well-defined line. In the modern state each level reaches up toward the next higher and, failing to balance itself, drops into the abyss which never fills. There is no contented layer of humanity to equalize the pressure; heads and hands are thrust up through from below at every point. Democracy has taken possession of the age and must be reckoned with on all sides. At first sight sumptuous housing might seem to be the least objectionable form of conspicuous waste. Safer than rich food, less wasteful than gorgeous clothing, but, as Veblen truly says, "through discrimination in favor of visible consumption it has come about that the domestic life of most classes is relatively shabby. As a consequence people habitually screen their private life from observation." This is from a different motive than the instinct of privacy, of personal withdrawal for rest and quiet. This shabby private life is why true hospitality is disappearing. The chance guest is no longer welcome to the family table; we are ashamed of our daily routine, or we have an idea that our fare is not worthy of being shared. Whatever it is, unconscious as it often is, it is a canker in the family life of to-day. It leads to selfishness, to a laxness in home manners very demoralizing. It is doubtless one of the great factors in the distinct deterioration of children's public manners. Because the house is held to be the visible evidence of social standing, because its location, style of architecture, fittings and furniture may be made to proclaim the pretensions of its inhabitants, it is often dishonest and one of the sources of the prevalent untruth in other things, since dishonesty in housing has been not infrequently one of the first signs of dishonesty in business. To move to a less fashionable quarter is to confess financial stress at once. It is because the concomitant expenses of an establishment may be curtailed without attracting public notice that a moral danger exists. The outside shell is not the whole nor even the chief outlay. The operating expenses run away with more money than the house itself, and it is in these that the family, conscious of impending ruin, curtail, and thus become dishonest in their own souls. The moral of it all is to live just a little below the probable limit, whatever that may be, rather than to assume a greater income than is quite certain. Granted that in the quickly changing conditions of to-day this is difficult, it is not often impossible. It is only needed to set some other standard of social position than shelter and to use the house for its legitimate purposes only, that of an abode of the family in health and joyful cooperation. The class for which this series is written should seek a shelter sufficient for these normal uses, and make it so home-like that friends will gladly share it when permitted. Let good manners, keen intelligence, bright and entertaining conversation take the place of the showy but frequently uncomfortable houses and wholesale entertainments of to-day. It is time that a beginning was made of that form of social pleasure and mental recreation which the century must develop, or fail of its promise. What is the value, of present-day knowledge if not to stimulate the conscious group, through the individual perhaps, but the group finally, to better use of its powers and opportunities toward a higher form of social life? We have been told that the house should be as much an expression of individuality as clothes. Since clothes are constantly and easily changed, and a family home built to order is comparatively permanent, such expression in wood or stone should be carefully thought out; but how rarely do we gain a pleasant impression from the houses built for the purpose of setting forth social standards! The owner and the architect have neither of them the highest ideals, and a sort of ready-made, composite, often irritating, always displeasing result follows. The pretence shows through more often than the occupant realizes. Society has the power to regulate its own conventions. Once convinced that it is dangerous to put the strain of living on to mere superficial pretence, mere location, ornament, new standards will be set up; as, indeed, they are under other conditions. In frontier life, for instance, where shortness of tenure is recognized, dress and the table take the place of the house as indications. In a mining town, one is astonished at the costumes seen on persons issuing from insignificant houses, and at the excellent bill of fare in a restaurant with the barest necessities of furnishing. Cursory observation often reads the signs of civilization wrongly. The eastern traveller, accustomed to the outward glitter and the finish of settled communities, fails to interpret the real efficiency of a more flexible society. West of the Mississippi, that new empire we are just beginning to appreciate, good food is recognized as of prime importance, dress gives an opportunity for showing conspicuous waste, and buildings are made for show only when permanence of residence is assured. Let society once thoroughly understand that safe shelter is essential to its very life, that this safety is threatened, if not lost, by present habits, and, by quick money-making schemes in house-building, it will establish standards of living which shall not only be for the material welfare, but for the mental, moral, and spiritual progress of the race. This progress can be secured by applying centrifugal force to congested districts, by interesting capitalists to consider housing at the same time with manufacturing plants, not only providing safe, economical houses, but by making it socially possible to live in them on moderate incomes. The rising half, we must remember, is more affected by social conventions than the submerged tenth. The well-to-do should consider more conscientiously those who recruit their ranks, who, if started right without danger of debt, will have freedom to advance. The present muddle has come about in part because no one has taken the trouble to investigate the reasons. The young family with $3000 a year has ideals for the manners and morals of the children which are not satisfied with those of the inexpensive tenement quarter. Prevention they consider better than cure, hence they pay higher rent than the income warrants to secure elevating examples and morally wholesome surroundings. [Illustration: The Morris Company's Block of Single Houses, with Central Heating Plant (*remainder cut off).] [Illustration: The Morris Building Company's Block of Single Houses, with Central Heating Plant, Brooklyn, New York.] A single family cannot control a whole street, although cooperation can accomplish a great deal in the way of congenial neighborhoods. But the risk involved, the liability to error of judgment, as well as the large outlay of capital, at once prevents the adoption of this means of satisfactory housing for the business and professional class to any great extent, at least in the city. The acumen needed to discover the profitable in real estate, the skill to acquire large contiguous tracts of land, both belong to the capitalist. Only when he is a philanthropist besides, is the housing question safe in his hands. Such an example we find in the Morris houses, Willoughby Ave., Brooklyn, N.Y. This set of family dwellings was put up to meet this very need. Congenial neighborhood, safe playgrounds for the children, labor-saving devices for the housekeeper. When first built they were in advance of anything in an eastern city of their class. To-day Mr. Pratt has even more advanced ideas which will take form in the future. [Illustration: Aerial-view Drawing: The Morris Building Company's Block of Single Houses, with Central Heating Plant, Brooklyn, New York.] These attractive and comfortable houses, so near the working places of the teachers and professional and business men who occupy them, were possible only because of the comparative cheapness of the land, which had been held undesirable for high-class single houses, not for sanitary reasons, but solely on account of social conditions. This cluster of forty houses makes its own atmosphere. This is the lesson to be learned. Let groups of like-minded families make their own surroundings. The capitalist will soon learn where his interest lies. [Illustration: Floor-plan Drawing: The Morris Building Company's Block of Single Houses, with Central Heating Plant, Brooklyn, New York.] [Illustration: Floor-plan Drawing The Morris Building Company's Block of Single Houses, with Central Heating Plant, Brooklyn, New York.] Very probably it will be necessary to enlarge the scope and, perhaps, to build two stories higher, so that the elders and perhaps bachelors of both sexes, who do not care for the garden, may help to bear the expense of the children's playground. Whatever form the advance may take, this is a sign-post in the right direction. In the nature of things, however, the first experiments will be costly and must be combined with business of a sure kind. In this instance the heating and hot-water supply was made possible by a combination with factory plant. But if a larger group of, say, one hundred houses were run by a central establishment, the Morris Building Company estimates the cost at about fifty dollars per year. These houses will be referred to again under Chapter VI, but the especial value of this experiment was its social significance. How much better to keep desirable land for residential purposes by such means than to permit families to move away and give up satisfactory dwellings solely because the lower end of the street has a few foreigners! Our older cities abound in instances of this quick abandonment of most desirable streets without any concerted effort to retain their character. The dangerous sanitary degeneration of these abandoned houses is one of the worst features of the situation and a prolific cause of the overcrowding of cities. The more thoughtful students of progressive tendencies are grouping themselves in "parks" where houses are put up with the aid of the capitalist under such restrictions as to price as is supposed to insure a congenial neighborhood, and under such regulations as to land as to prevent manufacturing establishments. When these plans are not purely speculative, designed to entrap the young people by their best hopes of a permanent home, much satisfaction may come from the plan. But even in this country or suburban life the shadow of fashion falls sooner or later, and the savings vanish with the years. Some deeper principle must come into play, some stronger force than mere whim of society leaders, before our young people can be released from the bondage of living on the right side of a street under penalty of social ostracism. There are gratifying indications of an awakening. The following statement appeared in a newspaper of a recent date: "A corporation of women has been formed in Indianapolis, Ind., for the purpose of building small but artistic houses for people of moderate means. All of the directors are business women; one of the vice-presidents is Miss Elizabeth Browning, the city librarian, and another is the principal of one of the public schools. The secretary has for some time been in charge of the office of a savings and loan association and is the only woman member of the Indianapolis fire insurance inspection board. Six houses are to be erected at once in various parts of the city." No better use of money or effort can be made at the present time than in similar endeavors to meet the needs of the time. The study of conditions will prove an education in itself and a stimulus to invention. When the social conscience is once awakened the bride with $2000 a year will not be expected to begin where her mother left off. The young people will be provided with just as comfortable and just as sanitary homes, but they will not be expected to entertain lavishly in order to show the wedding presents before they are broken. They will be visited, even if they live in an unfashionable quarter on a side street. Is it not more honest? If society would put its stamp on the manner of life adapted to the welfare of the young people, it would not be unfashionable to live within one's income. The tyranny of things is very real and most distressing in connection with this problem of shelter and all that it involves. There is only needed a social awakening to result in an adjustment of men's views as to what is good and right. New social habits adapted to the age we live in will be accepted by the next generation as good form. CHAPTER III. LEGACIES FROM THE NINETEENTH CENTURY NOT ADAPTED TO CHANGED CONDITIONS CAUSE PHYSICAL DETERIORATION AND DOMESTIC FRICTION. "A large part of the evils of which we complain socially to-day are due to the kind of houses we live in and the exactions they make upon us."--H.G. WELLS. Four classes of houses have come down to us: (1) The family homestead in the country set low on the ground with damp walls and dark cellar, one of a cluster of rambling buildings; with a well, the only water supply, in close proximity to various sources of pollution. These houses are for the most part now abandoned to the foreigner, who uses them for the primitive purposes of shelter without the ennobling intellectual life they once harbored. Now and then a grandson rescues the old place, brings water from a spring or brook, digs a drain, lets light into the cellar, and builds on a kitchen and dining-room. The expense is often greater than to build anew, but the effect is usually very good when the changes are made under sanitary supervision. (2) The village or suburban house set in its own grounds, too near the street usually, but with garden and fruit-trees in the rear, and possibly a stable for horse and cow. This was the compromise made by the generation just from the free life of the farm-house, who, consciously or unconsciously, clung to the green of grass and trees, and the blue of the sky. So long as habit or love of caring for the things lasted all went well. The father found his recreation in planting the garden before breakfast, as in his boyhood. The mother cared for flower and vegetable-garden, as she recalled her mother's life; she picked her own beans and corn, even if she did not cook the dinner. But the _children_ had to hurry off to school, and it was a pity to call them early: they had lessons to learn in the afternoon. To them the garden was work, not play as it should have been; so they failed to gain that contact with mother earth which gives inspiration as well as health; they failed to acquire a love of nature, became infected with the germ of gregariousness, preferred the glare of lights, the rush of hurrying crowds, and lost the relish for fresh air and quiet. This second generation came to the city boarding-house and flat as soon as they were free, leaving their parents' houses to go the same way as the grandfather's farmhouse, into the hands of the foreigner not yet Americanized to high standards of cleanliness and orderliness. These houses, too, are settling down into unkempt grounds with dilapidated porches and blinds. Such eyesores as one finds on the trolley-lines in any direction! They may have town-water supply, or they may depend on wells, but they are frequently without sewer-connection. It is costly to be neat and clean, and only those whose minds require such surroundings in order to be comfortable will pay the cost in time, trouble, and money. (3) Some families made a compromise and built what is called a modern house with bath-room and furnace (after the air-tight-stove craze passed), with jigsaw ornamentation outside and in, pretentious-looking dwellings with no proper kitchen accompaniments, and an unsavory garbage-barrel in the small back yard, under the next neighbor's windows. These houses are so close together that sounds and smells mingle; there is so little land that there is no satisfaction in caring for it. Houses of this sort are altogether too frequently found, occupying good locations and jarring on the nerves of the better-trained young people of to-day. What is to be done with them? They are too expensive to pull down, and hence are the last resort of those who find they must retrench. They are mere temporary shelters, not loved homes. The plumbing is usually of a cheap order, and the drains are not infrequently broken, so that sanitarily these dwellings are often more suspicious than the abandoned farmhouse. (4) The influx from village and country made demand for city housing of an inexpensive sort, and there came into being all over the land the type of the family house squeezed by the price of land to four stories high, 16 to 20 feet wide, built in long rows and blocks. The "ugly sixties" bred not only distressful village "villas," but unpleasant city houses of this type, which are to-day a real menace to wholesome living. Many such blocks may be found in any of our older cities, casting a depressing influence upon all who come in sight of them, and deteriorating the manners and morals of all who live in them. For these have gone the way of the other classes mentioned and become perverted from the uses they were designed for. In the seventies there were still motherly women who had come to town to make a home for the children no longer content out of it. They were willing and capable of mothering a few other children and lonely teachers and clerks, so the boarding-house began as a real family home for the homeless. There were not enough of these women to go around, and soon boarding-houses began to be run for profit only. Home privileges were fewer and fewer, the common parlor was rented, the one-family kitchen was made to do duty for twenty persons. The house became pervaded with burned fat and tobacco-smoke--a most villainous combination, gossip flourished, and the limit of discomfort was reached. What wonder that a good Samaritan built the first flat where the wearied nerves could find peace in the thicker walls, and could escape the eternal "fry" by going out to meals! It is a perfectly natural evolution from the impossible conditions which the eighties and nineties developed. The early attempts, built on the old lines after the old ideas, before the new life was accepted, are not satisfactory and, being built of brick or stone, they are even more difficult to get rid of than the preceding. So each type goes down in the scale of decent living. A given roof is made to cover more people crowding closer and closer, causing home in the sense of privacy and comfort to recede farther and farther away, until the lover of his kind stands aghast at the magnitude of the problem before society when it awakens to the task confronting it. Fortunately these rows of houses are disappearing under the demand of business. The invasion of the residential district is a real blessing, in that it pulls down these houses which in twenty years have outlived their usefulness and can serve a good purpose no longer. Let us hope that either the demands of business or the common sense of society will also sweep away the fifth class: (5) City flats put up by the conscienceless money-maker with only that idea of giving the public what the public wants (because it knows no better) which gives the newspaper its pernicious influences. At first it was supposed the flat-dwellers would keep house, and arrangements of a sort were made. This compressed the work of the house into such small quarters that the maid was given a room down in the basement along with the furnace, or in the top story adjoining ten or more other rooms--a dormitory arrangement without supervision and without the quiet needed for rest. The difficulty of securing good service under these conditions, together with the thousand and one annoyances of living at too close quarters, noisy children and pianos, grumpy janitors, smelly garbage, have led to the latest phase: non-housekeeping flats with daily care of a sort supplied by the janitor if desired, a kitchenette where eggs and coffee for breakfast and dishes for invalids may be prepared, and restaurants galore for other meals. Thus the women of the family are set free to roam the streets in search of bargains and to join others like unto themselves for matinées and promenades. This sort of shelter is increasing more rapidly than any other in all the cities investigated. An estimate has been made that 80 or 90 per cent of the recent building has been of this sort. Six rooms in an unfashionable locality rent for about $25 or $30 a month; in a fashionable quarter, for $200 to $250 per month, with a floor-space one half larger. These latter cost about 50 cents per week per room for daily care, whereas the former, if cared for from outside, are served only at intervals of two weeks or a month. The inmates do most of the daily care themselves. While the building is new and fresh this means little work; but as time goes on the poor construction shows, the surface varnish wears off, cracks come, and a general shabbiness appears, so that the tenant prefers to move into a new building. The owner, or more probably the agent, puts on a little shining varnish, and rents again without real repair, and these buildings also go from bad to worse. Many of them are known to change tenants two or three times a year. There is always a demand for the newest house. A study of social conditions reveals the fact that for the larger part of the wage-earners the house has come to be the place where money is spent, not earned or even saved. It has gone back to its primitive use--shelter from weather and a sleeping-place, a temporary one at that. A real-estate authority has made the assertion that three fifths of the rent-payers in large cities are made up of non-householders and one half of these are confined to one room--mostly women. This indicates a change in requirements for the housing of the individual as distinguished from the family. And it is this element which has complicated city living to a great extent, and to which attention has been drawn by the accusation that home life is shirked by it. To the bachelor man and maid are added the commercial traveller who leaves wife and possibly child behind four fifths of the time. For him, as for several other classes of young business men, the locality which he can choose for headquarters changes with the requirements of business. He is under orders and must go at a moment's notice across the continent, perhaps. It is not his fault but the exigency of business that destroys the desire for a permanent abiding-place. The numbers of such homeless young people are far greater than any one but the real-estate agent realizes. Then this loosening of the home tie renders easy the shifting from city to country and seashore. A considerable proportion of the $2000 to $5000 class shut up the flat or leave the boarding-house several times in the year. There is usually one place where the furniture and bric-a-brac and the other season's clothing are kept, but it is only a storehouse or a temporary retreat that holds their property, growing less and less as they move, until they may practically live in their trunks. The legacy which outranks all the others in disastrous consequences is the notion that the young people must begin where their parents left off; that the house must be, if anything, a little more elaborate. Therefore in starting life the rent is allowed to consume one third the income in sight, without considering the cost of maintaining such an establishment. With a probable income of $2000 a year the young man does not hesitate to pay $500 for a house, not realizing that at least half as much more should be spent on wages for the care of the nineteenth-century house, and as much more on incidentals, car-fares, and unexpected demands. What wonder that the young people find themselves in debt by the second year? The parents are quite as much, if not more, to blame for encouraging this extravagance. The father and mother are entitled to their ease and to the use of their income for it, but the newly married pair have, in this age, no right to assume the same attitude. They have their way to make, their work to do in the years ahead of them. They should not mortgage the future for the sake of the present luxury; and because of the uncertainties of occupation and of health it is wise to take out of the expected income one fourth or one third for a reserve fund and divide the remainder for expenses. For instance, from $2000 a year subtract $500, then divide the $1500 into $300 for rent, $300 for food, $300 for operating expenses, $200 for clothing, $200 for travel, leaving $200 for the other expenses. If unlooked-for expenses must be incurred, there is the $500 to draw upon; but do not court the extra outlay: save the nest-egg if possible. The ideals of the home are said to rule the world. The young business man who does not take the sane view of his own expenses will not rightly consider his employer's interests. It is more than probable that the much-deplored laxness, to call it by no harsher name, in business circles is directly traceable to this falseness and dishonesty in standards of home life. This moral effect is what makes the housing problem so serious. It leads to an outward show not balanced by an ability to maintain an inner life in harmony. It leads to an attempt to carry on a four-servant house with two servants, or a three servant establishment with one. Lack of study and experience leads the family living in the suburbs, in one of the worst legacies of the past, to attempt the same style as friends maintain in a lately built apartment house, without in the least understanding wherein the difference lies. From the Atlantic to the Pacific, from Maine to Texas, comes the same dull and sullen roar of domestic unrest. Lack of faithful service is causing the abandonment of the family home, and the fear of the obstacles in the way of establishing new ones threatens the whole social fabric. The housewife is inclined to connect this state of things almost entirely with food preparation, and is prone to fancy that if eating could be abolished peace would return. The trouble goes much deeper, however, even to the foundations. The nineteenth-century house is not suited to twentieth-century needs. In other words, lack of adaptation to present conditions of the houses we live in is a large factor in the prevailing domestic discontent. The next largest has been referred to as attempting a style of living beyond one's income. In all other walks of life, in transportation, in manufacturing, machinery has come in to replace the heavier and more mechanical portions of labor. The steam-shovel, the hoisting-engine, an infinite combination of mechanical principles have been applied to the doing of things to save human muscle. To stand by the machine which turns out the familiar grape-basket, ready to fill with the fruit, and then to watch the housemaid bending over some piece of work, is to realize the difference. In few, very few operations is it necessary to-day that men should bend their backs, but in how many household processes is the worker expected to get down on all fours? The free-born American rebels. Perchance it is the unconscious protest over a four-footed ancestry, or it may be that disuse has really weakened the spinal column. Whatever the cause, the fact remains. It is not the idea of work, of service, but of bending the back to work that is so repugnant; likewise the effect on the hands of hot water and scrubbing. Close observation has convinced me that care of the hands has become an indication of freedom from manual labor quite unthought of fifteen or twenty years ago. The increase of manicuring-rooms, like the increase of restaurants, is a clear sign of the trend of the times. Not only the class who likes to waste conspicuously, but many a teacher, many a young man in State or Government employ with an income of one, two, or three thousand a year patronizes these rooms. This daintiness reflects downward, and the girl whose acquaintances in her high-school days are in a position to keep well manicured, if not "lily-white," hands does not like to have hers show the effect of housework, when that means scrubbing the floor and cleaning the stove. Gloves? Ah, well, James Nasmyth once wrote: "Kid-gloves are great non-conductors of knowledge." I believe that gloves of any kind are a makeshift in real cleaning of dirty corners; but _there should not be corners to catch dirt_. The unnecessary nastiness of the scrub-water with its fine soot which works into every pore is a great objection to the girl who must work for her living. If she goes to visit her friends, her hands betray her. She can remove the other badges of her toil, her cap and apron; she may go out on the street as brave as her mistress; but the moment her gloves are removed her hands tell the tale. With the means at hand this need not be. It is one of the legacies which have come down to us, and which we have connected with the servant problem. The work in the most modern apartments does not require the soiling of the hands in a serious way. With hard wood floors, bright gas-stoves, porcelain lined dishes, no pots and kettles, all the stairs, halls, etc., cared for by the janitor, the work is of a far less smutting kind than in the suburban house, where there is still need for much cleaning up of a roughening sort which cannot be escaped. This has more to do than we are apt to think with the distaste for the country, unless several servants are kept, some for this work only. In the old type of city house the travel up-and down-stairs to answer bell and telephone has demanded strength of back not possessed by the modern maid. The house is not yet adapted to the new demands of the workers, and they shun it. The mistress herself finds it beyond her strength, even if the traces of rough work were not quite so distasteful to her. Miss Pettengill in her story of domestic service brings out the great part played by sooty dust, sifting in even through closed windows, in the burden of the waitress who is expected to keep the dining-room immaculate. This is only one instance where the blame really belongs on the actual material house rather than on the mistress, except that she does not discover a remedy, does not even know where to look for the cause. I have great faith in the business woman, who does see much that is better done and who will bring it back into the home. Fashions in philanthropy do not yet tend in the direction of house betterment. "A busy man cannot stop his life-work to teach architects what they ought to know," says Wells; but on the other hand "we cannot be expected to teach men and their wives, as well as draw plans for them," says the architect who has tried it. The centrifugal forces that our social prophets are so fond of invoking, holding that the words "town" and "city" may become as obsolete as "mail-coach," will have to reckon with these features of country life. It is assumed that the work of women is "housekeeping." I should like to put the question suddenly to a thousand men. What is twentieth-century housekeeping? I venture the guess that less than a hundred would take into account the utter difference in their wives' duties from their mothers', as they remember them; and yet the house, even the flat, is built more or less along the old lines. The women do not know enough to assert themselves, and have not the skill to show the builder what is wrong. The architects could tell tales if they would. The utter ignorance of what a house means, of the steps necessary to make a successful livable place, is appalling. The young man who has $3000 as a legacy feels he can build. His wife chooses the location near her friends whose houses she likes, and the architect is called in. Do you wish back stairs? Are you to keep three servants or none? Do you wish the rooms separate or connecting? All such questions find a blank stare. "What difference does that make in the style and price?" the would-be owner says. The architect is not always able to show him that these little things are the whole problem in building a _home_. The house as a home is merely outer clothing, which should fit as an overcoat should, without wrinkles and creases that show their ready-made character. The woman, born housekeeper as she considers herself, is rigid in her ideas of what she thinks she wants, but when the builder has followed her plans she is far from satisfied with the result. She is used to material which puckers and stretches in her clothing; she cannot understand the inflexibility of wood and stone. The remedy is for high-school girls, probably even grammar-school pupils as well, to have along with their drawing some problems in house-planning and some lessons in carpentry. It will be seen from the foregoing glance at the rapid change and steady deterioration of houses that the care of such living-places must involve special discomforts in most cases. The time required to keep clean old splintered floors, to carry pails of water up and down stairs, to dry out the cloths--the base boards with their grimy streaks tell the story of carelessness--is not counted in the wage schedule. Why is there so much dirt brought into the house? Because shoes and streets are muddy. Why is there so much lint? Because we have too many things in a room--too much wear and tear. And unnecessary dirt is found even in the newer apartment-houses with the ever-changing population and ever-lessening space for maids' quarters, together with the sham character of construction due to the fact that most of these houses have been put up by speculators at the lowest cost of the cheapest materials which will show wear in a few months. Flimsy construction is a direct result of the notorious lack of care taken by the tenant, so that quick returns must be the rule; also of the probability that the neighborhood will deteriorate and that a class which will bear crowding and be less critical will replace the first tenants. Conveniences for doing work in the houses built to rent, that is to bring in the greatest returns in the shortest time, will not be put in (for the first cost is great) unless the house will rent for more. The sharpest Hebrew or Irish landlord will allow his architect to add bathtubs if he believes the flat will rent for a few dollars more, where he will not do it for the sake of cleanliness. The supply of hot water, together with the gas stove, has done much to reconcile the housewife who does her own work to the cramped quarters of the flat, and also has done more than anything else to render the maids discontented with that legacy from the nineteenth century which requires the building of a coal fire before hot water can be had. The coal fire makes necessary rising an hour earlier and this, after the late hours the seven-o'clock dinner enforces, causes friction all along the line. The acceptance by young women without a study of cause and effect of whatever presents itself makes them bad housekeepers, in the sense of ignorant ones unable to cope with present conditions, because lack of experience is not supplemented by a spirit of investigation and a resolution to work out the problem. They seem to think that housekeeping is to go on in the same old way no matter whatever else may change, whereas it is most sensitive to the general direction of progress if they but knew it. The wage-earner is more fully aware of the currents of the irresistible river modern life has become (the slow-moving car of Juggernaut is no longer an adequate symbol) than is the money spender. Indeed is any part of the house, as we now most frequently find it, adapted to the uses of the twentieth century? The careless capitalist who makes possible the "cockroach landlord," he who sublets and crowds and skimps the tenants for his own gain, is greatly to blame for the distressing conditions of the lower income limit of the wage-earner, but I fear he is not altogether blameless for the sort of house the $1500 man has to look for in the city. Decent living with light and air within half an hour of work is growing so rare that society must take a hand in the matter. CHAPTER IV. THE PLACE OF THE HOUSE IN THE SOCIAL ECONOMY OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. "We have entered upon the period of conscious evolution, have begun the adaptation of the environment to the organism."--Sir OLIVER LODGE. The hopeless pessimism of the past, that saw in the unmerciful progress of organic evolution no escape for the human animal from the grip of fate, is about to give way to the enthusiasm of conscious directing and controlling power. This is the beneficent result of the age of the machine. Man has discovered that he can not only change his environment, but that by this change he can modify himself. The hope of the future lies in the moulding of man's surroundings to his needs. In physiological terms, "the adaptation of structure to function." The day is long past when shelter implied chiefly a tight roof and a dry floor. The housing of the twentieth-century family means location, central and fashionable. It means in cost far more than what the roof covers and the floor supports. It means plumbing and interior finish; it also means a finish on the outside, smoothly shaven lawns and immaculate sidewalks. Sigh as we may for the colonial house, we confess that the standards of the time did not include the comfort of hot baths, polished floors, plate-glass windows, elevators, ice-closets, and lawn-mowers. These are necessary adjuncts to what is held as merely decent living; _how_ can the $2000 man have them, not why _will_ he not? What then is the house and the life in it to become for the great majority of families and individuals with an income of $3000 a year and necessarily nomadic habits. I say necessarily, because these families are at the mercy of business and social conditions quite beyond their control and impossible to foretell. So far as prophetic vision sees through the mists of time, the aim of the twentieth century is to live the _effective life_. The simple life has been preached, the strenuous life has been lauded, but, as William Barclay Parsons recently stated it:[1] "We need force, we need a vigorous force; we need that direction and avoidance of the unnecessary which is simplicity, but with either one alone there is something lacking. Instead of latent force and great energy without control, instead of quiet gentleness, of power of control without vigor to be controlled, what we need is force and energy applied where necessary and always under control, always working to a definite purpose, and at the same time avoiding complications and unnecessary friction. [Footnote 1: William Barclay Parsons, N.E.A., Asbury Park, 1905. _Eng. Record_, Aug. 12, 1905.] "That is to have a life whose great underlying motive is effectiveness. Instead of speaking of the strenuous life or the simple life, let us have as a doctrine 'the effective life.' "What we need is not merely a man who acts, but one who _does_; that is, one who will do what he has to do regardless of intervening obstacles. Efficiency and effectiveness are the key-notes of success in actual life. They are also the lessons taught by every parable in the New Testament, even if that work is regarded as a code of ethics, and they form the spirit of that stirring definition of engineering[1] which is based on the direction of the vital forces of nature and the doing of things for mankind." [Footnote 1: "Ability to do and the _doing_, efficiency, and the use of it all for mankind."--Tredgold's definition of Engineering.] Manufacturing concerns have found it pays them to provide decent tenements for their workers, but society has not yet awakened to the fact that the rank and file of the great army of salaried employees is left to fend for itself in a world only too prone to take advantage of its necessities. There is danger in this neglect of wholesome living surroundings, because from this stratum develops normally the intelligence of the future, and how can mentally active children grow up under the prevailing unsightly and unsanitary conditions? Of course with the passing of pioneer conditions will pass in a measure the courage and adaptability which braced itself to meet and overcome obstacles. The salaried position in a great combine, instead of work for one's self in an independent business, tends to magnify the value of mere money-income gained through smartness rather than by ability. If life is made too easy, men will settle into indolent sterility, just as animals and plants degenerate with too much food. The future will surely bring greater mechanical perfection and thus leave it possible for the individual, for each member of the family group, to do for himself many little things which are not comfortable to do now. But will he be willing to do them? Not unless he feels it to be a duty or a pleasure. Not unless there is an undercurrent of principle which carries him along. Without this principle strong enough to give an impetus over hard places in the early stages of life, the individual and the family will surely drift into the hotel and boarding-house, where everything is done on a money basis and nothing for love of one's kind; where a tip salves the hurt of menial work. These habits once gained are hard to break up; therefore it is much better for young people to begin life doing some things for themselves in a house where machinery responds to their call without a tip, where they may economize without loss of self-respect. We need to revive some of the pagan ideals of the beauty and value of the human body and human life which consists in the care and use of this body. There is no menial work in the daily living rightly carried out; that which the last century wrongly permitted is made needless by the machinery of to-day. The point of view is most important. The first steps toward social betterment will come through a cooperation of three forces: (1) a recognition of the need; (2) an awakening of social conscience to the duty of supplying the need; and (3) the movement of moneyed philanthropy to fulfil the requirement quickly. As was natural, sympathy flowed first to the class which had the most visible need, not necessarily the greater need. The New York Model Tenement Association has shown the world how easy it is, when there is a will, to find a way. That association has already taken the first step in advanced housing, and reduced the cost of safe and rentable city shelter to its lowest terms. Fireproof, sanitary, and convenient so far as rooms go (it is quite a climb for the mother with a baby in her arms to the sixth story), with neighbors carefully sorted, repairs well looked after, a sympathetic woman as agent always in the office; _but_ only a minimum of light and air and sun; bedrooms 7x8, living-rooms 10x13; the smallest spaces the law allows; no grass, no flowers outside, no pets, nothing of one's own that cannot be put in a cart; common stairways where only partial privacy is gained; clothes-yards on the roof, and laundry in the basement, to be used in turn by twenty tenants. Because this is better than the slums for the emerging class, and because they like the gregariousness, is no argument for continuing the type up into the range of the $2000 group. But this is just what most of the small apartments do--those built to make all the money that they will bear. Hardly any better facilities are given. It will be easy for more roomy living-places to be built on similar plans, with elevators and labor-saving devices, and yet within the limit of moderate incomes, such blocks to be always under competent sanitary supervision. From these model tenements it will not be difficult to advance to the suburban square with sufficient variety in house plans to content those who are willing to yield small personal whims. Hitherto the erratic fancy of would-be tenants, the dissatisfaction with the arrangements provided, has made building _en masse_ difficult. As long as the builder was called upon to suit those who had lived in houses of their own for many years his task was difficult, but now he will have to do with the young people who know no other life and who will more readily fall in with the standards set by the house itself. For this very reason those who have social welfare at heart must come to the rescue, and devise and put up samples, of the best that modern science can offer, to rent for $300 to $500 a year. Let any one who loves his kind, if he have a talent this way, not wrap it in a napkin, but give it to the builder and the philanthropist to materialize. Now is the time to set standards for the next thirty years. The electric car is opening new country as never before. Who will make the practical advance? These new houses will be roomy and yet, I think, will not fail of sun-parlors or enclosed piazzas which will serve as extensions of the house when occasion demands. I am sure they will not contain the forbidding "front room" set apart for weddings and funerals and rare family gatherings. More open-air life will be fashionable and practicable as soon as we have learned that a wind-break and not a tightly-enclosed space is what we need. In northern latitudes especially it is the wind which makes the climate seem so inclement. The amount of accessible sunshine may be doubled with great advantage in most of the semi-country-houses. Shelter should not suggest a prison. The education of the child demands that housing shall include land for pets, for vegetables and flowers; not merely to increase beauty and selfish pleasure, but for the ethical value of contact with things dependent on care and forethought. The thoughtful sociologist recognizes as one of the greatest needs for the children of to-day a closer companionship with fathers--is urging that even money-making should be secondary to the time given to moulding the character of the little ones, instead of leaving them to nurses and coachmen or to the school of the streets. Companionship in the garden-work will secure this opportunity in a natural way. It is only by going into the country that sufficient land for a simple house with yard in front and garden in the rear--the ideal English home--can be had. There will be a sacrifice of some of the things the city gives, but a compromise is the only possible outcome of many claims. Those who are feeling the return to Nature, who find pleasure in gardening and in all the soothing effects of country life, or who can bring themselves to it with moderate pleasure for the sake of the children who must be encouraged to delight in it, should go out at least ten miles from the city. In a well-regulated household the early breakfast will be a natural thing, and the meal will be no more hurried than any other. It is the class which tries to be both city and country that fills the columns of the magazines with the trials of the commuter. The father need not see less of his children, and the common occupation and interest will furnish opportunities for wise counsel. Much nonsense is written about the perils of habit and the dangers of routine. It all depends upon what those habits are. All animal functions are better performed as a matter of habit, without thought; it saves energy for more intellectual pursuits, which, I grant, are better kept under volitional control. The animal act of breakfasting at a given hour, of taking a given train, can be accomplished as unconsciously as breathing. Early rising should be the rule, because the children are then available as they are not at night. We shall assume that the sane man will hold the little home in the country with all outdoors to breathe in as worth the half-hour journey and the early breakfast, and that the woman will have time set free by the labor-saving devices sure to come as fast as she will use them wisely. This free time she will give to the aesthetic side of life and will make of her home a more attractive place than the club. _But_ once a week let them both go into town either to the club or to some other place for dinner and an entertainment afterward. This will be sufficient to keep them out of an intellectual rut, will brighten the appetite with needed variety, and make the next quiet evening more delightful. Once a week is sufficient to break the monotony of diet and routine, and not often enough to create that insatiable appetite for the glare of lights and the rush of people which makes all family life "deadly dull," as one café-haunting woman confessed. While this country life is the only thing for a family of young children and for those who really enjoy the country, there is a larger number needing rational housing which will be left behind, let us hope with more room because of the flitting of these others. Much as I deprecate the evils of the present apartment system, I do believe that an idealized modification will be needed for many years, especially for the elderly, for the commercial traveler, for the bachelor men and maids temporarily or permanently living single, for the newly married as yet unsettled in business or profession, for the man who does not know his own mind or whose employers do not know theirs. An instance has come to the writer's knowledge of a young man who, after his wedding cards were out, was ordered to take charge of an office in another city. Marrying for shelter is and should be no longer necessary; and as for the fear that this habit of bachelor quarters will be hard to break up and tend to delay marriage, it will all depend upon whether it comes from the merely animal layer of the brain or from the intellectual. This housing of the individual instead of the family has introduced an entirely new problem into house-building. Formerly when a widow or widower, a maiden aunt, a homeless uncle or cousin made his home with relatives, it was "as one of the family"; only the minister was recognized as having need for a separate sitting-room. The trials of this forced companionship have been told in many a witty story; and pathetic instances that never came to print are matters of common knowledge. Will any one dare question the fact that the sum of human happiness has been increased by the freedom given to these prisoned souls by the small independent apartment? I have been reminded that here is no provision for the different generations to live together under the same roof; that the nineteenth century held it to be of great social value to have the children grow up with the elders. I am sorry for the twentieth-century grandparents if they are obliged to live in a flat with the twentieth-century child; some readjustment of manners and ideals must be made before such living will be comfortable, and it seems as if they are better apart until the new order is accepted or modified. The comfort of those whose work is done and who have leisure to enjoy life was never so easily secured as to-day. To turn the key and take the train at an hour's notice, leaving no cares to follow, tends to a serene old age. Moralists may squabble over the discipline of living with one's mother-in-law, and of the loss to the children of grandmother's petting, but at least physical content and mental satisfaction have increased. Has selfishness also? Who shall say? And anyway it is a part of the progress of the age, and what are we to do about it? For one group of single persons the change has been only beneficial. It was a strict code of the early nineteenth century that a single woman should find shelter under the roof of some family house, however independent, financially, her condition. Latch-key privileges were denied her. Result, the boarding-house of the later half of the century, nominally a family home, actually a hotbed of faultfinding and gossip, most wearing to the teacher and fledgling professional woman, however acceptable to the milliner and seamstress. Privacy could not be maintained in a house built for a family of five made to do duty for twelve, with one bath-room, thin-walled bedrooms with connecting doors through which the light streamed when one wished to sleep, and words frequently came not intended for outsiders. Who that has experienced the two could ever think the bachelor apartment with its neat bath-room and double-doored entrance an objectionable feature in modern intellectual life? Ah! here is the key. We are to-day living a life of the intellect far more than ever before, and for that a certain amount of withdrawal from our fellow man is needed, at least a withdrawal from that portion which finds its interest in the affairs of others. But if we eliminate the house itself, and the heavy furniture from the "home" possessions, what have we left? The little girl was right: "My home is where my dishes is." My _possessions_, whatever they are--the things I can call my own under all circumstances make my home. These circumstances change from time to time, but the ideal is there. As a concrete instance: let us have books, not a lot of books, but books that are friends with whom one may spend a comforting hour anywhere; books that have power to charm away the gloom of discontent, books to lend gayety to festal days. Rugs and draperies a few, those you find satisfying to your sense of color, of design, and with which you feel at home. Ugly tables, chairs, and "sofas" disappear under an Indian shawl. A Persian or a Navajo blanket covers a multitude of aesthetic sins. Only let these harmonize with each other, let them be chosen once for all to go in company; then if they are distributed, it will not matter; but in any case avoid the "museum" look given by mere collecting. Alas! these are expensive articles, and the young people may not be able to get all at once. Let society then turn over a new leaf in the wedding-present line, and cease this senseless giving of cut-glass and silver to those who may go to a mining-camp in the Rockies or to Mexico, or even into a ten-by-twelve New York apartment. Let there be a committee--we are so fond of committees--to receive contributions in a money-bank or in sealed envelopes, and then when all is collected, let this committee scour the shops for articles of value, and when found consult the bridal pair as to their preferences. The choice may be made of one or more, as the money permits. The particular gift will still be a surprise and yet of permanent value. Lace and embroideries are always good, but let the waste of money on the "latest" in orange-knives, oyster-plates, go up higher, that is, to the class with money for conspicuous waste, if it must still exist, but let sensible people be sensible, and not require the young folks to live up to their hopes for future advancement. Wedding gifts are meant to be kindly help to a young housewife, not a burden which drags her down to the level of a drudge. But if the house is surely their own, and in the country, there will be shelves to fill and walls to cover; _then_ is the opportunity for individual gifts of china, glass, and pictures. To make the best of the increasing tendency to a semi-country living, there is need for students of domestic architecture, women with a trained taste added to an experience in doing things, not merely seeing them already done. Let these evolve beautiful exteriors, with interiors so finely proportioned that they will be a delight to all beholders, so adapted to their purposes that no one will wish to change them. There is a right dimension, in relation to other dimensions, which is always satisfying and independent of furniture or decoration. The ugly houses, ill adapted to any useful purpose, which line the roadside bear witness to the ignorance of the women of to-day. The effort for mere decoration, for pretentious show, is so evident that one wishes for an earthquake to swallow them all. Another cause for rise in rent demanded for a given space is the heavy tax borne by real estate for public improvement, for good lighting, clean streets, plentiful water, sufficient sewerage, free baths, parks, and schools. Again, this falls heaviest on our three- to five-thousand dollar class, who pay more than their share, especially when the millionaire shirks his duty by paying his taxes elsewhere. What can the man with limited income do but avoid the responsibility of a family? Has he a moral right to bring unhappiness to his wife and two children? Having been caught in the trap, why give him all the blame if he tries to increase his income by speculation? The more one studies this question of shelter for the salaried group, the more is one convinced that it lies at the root of our social discontent and is a large factor in our moral as well as physical deterioration. CHAPTER V. POSSIBILITIES IN SIGHT PROVIDED THE HOUSEWIFE IS PROGRESSIVE. "We are far from the noon of man: There is time for the race to grow."--TENNYSON. "There appears no limit to the invasion of life by the machine." H.G. WELLS. The house as a centre of manufacturing industry has passed (for even if village industries do spring up, the work-rooms will be separate from the living-rooms); the house as a sign of pecuniary standing is passing: what next? Why, of course, the house as the promoter of "the effective life." Rebel as the artistic individual may at this word, it expresses the spirit of the twentieth century as nothing else can. Social advance must be made along the line of efficiency, even if it lead to something different and not at first sight better. The appeal to self-interest is soonest answered. The man or woman with any ambition will keep clean, will buy better milk for the baby, will pay more for rent if he or she is convinced that it will bring in or save money in the end, because money has been the measure of success in the nineteenth century. But as the full significance of this "machine-made" age is grasped it will be seen that it has set free the human laborer, if only he will qualify himself to use the power at his hand. The house will become the first lesson in the use of mechanical appliances, in control of the harnessed forces of nature, and of that spirit of cooperation which alone can bring the benefits of modern science to the doors of all. One family cannot as a rule put up in a city or in the suburbs--and half the world lives in cities--its own idea of a house without undue expenditure; but ten families may combine and secure a building which fairly suits them all. I say fairly, because all cooperation means some sacrifice of whim or special liking. The well-balanced individual will, however, choose the plan yielding on the whole the greater efficiency, thus following a law of natural selection which, so far, the human race has ignored--a neglect which has been carrying him toward destruction as surely as there is law in nature. Is this neglect to go on, or is man to turn before it is too late to a cultivation of the effective life? In everything else he has advanced, but in his intimate personal relations with nature and natural force he has acted as if he believed himself not only lord of the beasts of the field, but of the very laws of nature without understanding them. Mechanical progress has come from an humble attitude toward the powers of wind and water. Home efficiency will arrive just as soon as the home-keeper will put herself in a receptive frame of mind and be prepared to learn her limitations and the extent of her control of material things. When she will stop saying "I do not believe" and set herself to learn patiently the facts in the case, then will housekeeping take on a new phase and the house become the nursery of effective workers who will at the same time enjoy life. To manage this machine-driven house will require delicate handling; but let women once overcome their fear of machinery and they will use it with skill. The undue influence of sentiment retards all domestic progress. Because our grandfather's idea of perfect happiness was to sit before the fire of logs, we are satisfied with the semblance in the form of the asbestos-covered gas-log. "It is not for the iconoclastic inventor or architect to improve the hearth out of existence." Sentiment is a useful emotion, but when it held open funerals of diphtheria victims, society stepped in and forbade. With a certain advance in social consciousness public opinion will step in and regulate sentiment in regard to many things depending on individual whim. Heating might now be accomplished without dust and ashes, without the destructive effects of steam, if enough houses would take electricity to enable a company to supply it in the form of a sort of dado carrying wires safely embedded in a non-conducting substance, or in the form of a carpet threaded with conducting wire. Both heating and cooling apparatus could be installed in the shape of a motor to replace the punkah man and the present buzz-wheel fan, and to give fresh air without the opening of windows which leads to half our housekeeping miseries. O woman, how can you resist the thought of a clean, cool house, sans dust, sans flies and mosquitoes, sans the intolerable street-noise, with abundance of fresh filtered air at the desired temperature! It is all ready at your hand. A windmill on the roof can store power, or a solar motor can save the sun's rays, or capsules of compressed air may be had to run the machine, if only you were not so afraid of the very word machine that no man dares propose it to you. Of what use is all the invention of the time if it cannot save the lives of the children, half of whom fall victims to house diseases, if it cannot sweep away consumption and influenza and all the kindred diseases arising from over-shelter and under-cleanliness of that shelter (lack of air). Both men and women are sentimental and non-progressive, but education is assumed to make wiser human beings. Women are said to be monopolizing the education; is it making them more amenable to reasonableness and less under the control of unprogressive conservatism? It does require quick adaptation to keep up with the possibilities of invention, but should we not aim at that which will advance our race on a par with its opportunities? Every other department is getting ahead of us. We should hang our heads in shame that we have neglected so long the means for saner living. [Illustration: Fig. 6.--Old Kitchen Remodelled. (Stone, Carpenter & Wilson, Architects, Providence, R.I.) Looking toward the range. Servants' sitting-room beyond; porcelain sink at left; boiler (*remainder cut off).] [Illustration: Fig. 7.--Old Kitchen Remodelled. Showing glass shelves and labelled glass jars for all stores. Glass mixing table at left (*remainder cut off).] It has been said that the highest modern civilization is shown not so much by costly monuments and works of art as by the perfection of house conveniences. Where then do we stand? And in what direction are we to look for the coming advance? We have had some sixty years of public sanitation; we have secured a supply of sanitary experts to whom all questions affecting the physical welfare of masses of people may be referred. We have a few architects who know the requirements of a _livable_ house, not merely one which shows off well as first built. We _need_ sixty years of private-house sanitation. We need to educate house experts, home advisers, those who know how to examine a house not only while it is empty but while it is throbbing with the life of the family. This adviser must be, for many years at least, able to suggest practical methods of overcoming structural defects (more difficult than fresh construction), as well as of modifying personal prejudices. These house experts will, I think, be women of the broadest education, scientific and social. They will have not only a certain amount of medical knowledge, but also the tact and enthusiasm of the missionary which will bring them as friends and benefactors to the despairing mother and the discouraged householder. That there is a beginning of this demand, I can testify; that it will grow, I believe. As soon as a group of trained women are ready, they will find occupation if the advance in housing conditions which I foresee is to become a reality. Within the last two or three years the author has received requests from all over the country for suggestions as to kitchen design and construction. The two illustrations here given show one little step in the right direction. The cuts represent a remodelled kitchen in Providence, R.I. The floor is of lignolith laid down in one sheet and carried up as a wainscoting so that no crevice exists for entrance of insects or dust. Such floors are yet in their infancy and need suitable preparation for laying, just as macadamized streets fail if the foundation is faulty. The idea is all that we are here concerned with. One of the features to be especially noted is the use of glass for shelves. Why should the hospital monopolize the materials for antiseptic work? When it is understood how much hospital work is caused because of dirt in the preparation and keeping of food, the kitchen will receive its share of attention. To-day the cost of shelter is about one third for the house and two thirds for the expense of running it, largely due to dirt and its consequences. Mr. Wells wisely says: "Most dusting and sweeping would be quite avoidable if houses were wiselier done." When the real twentieth-century house is put up our young engineer and college instructor will be willing to pay $400 to $500 rent, because wages and running expenses will be $100 less and the company owning the houses will not expect more than 4%, largely because repairs will be less and permanence of tenure more assured. The old type of wooden house used by the old type of tenant could not be expected to last more than a few years, which justified a higher rate of interest. For the tenement tenant of the better class twenty years has been the estimate, so that the cost of building could not be distributed over fifty years as it should be. The house will be made of reinforced concrete or its successor; certainly not of wood. Whether a single house or one of two or more "compartments," each family will have a side, that is, the entrance doors will not be side by side. Such have been built in Somerville, Mass., by a railroad company for its employees. Those who wish to have a garden may; but no one will be obliged, for there will be regulations about the general appearance of the whole park, and every man his own lawn-mower will not be true. The cultivation of taste will have so far advanced that the grouping advised by the landscape architect will appeal to the occupant more than his own fancied arrangement. Since the heating will be supplied from outside, there will be a hothouse and cold-frames for those who wish to have a share in the garden, just as now there are bins in the basement. The care of these may replace the exercise now gained in scrubbing the front steps. The windows of the house will be dust-proof, fly-, mosquito-, and moth-proof; the air supplied will be strained by galleries of screens, if indeed social advance has not eliminated soot from chimneys and grit from the streets. Most certainly dirt will not be permitted to come in on shoes and long dresses. Warmed or cooled, moistened or dried air will be circulated as needed. In such a house rugs may stay undisturbed for a month or more, books for years, and the dust-cloth be rarely in evidence; the redding will consist of putting back in place the things used; but as each member of the family will do this as soon as he is old enough, there will be but a few minutes' work. The breakfast will be of uncooked or simply heated food, parched grains and cream, fruit fresh or dried, and nuts. If coffee or cocoa is desired, the electric heater serves it to the requisite degree of heat. Each adult member of the family will probably take this in his own room or at his own convenience, without the formality of a meal. The few glasses and other dishes may be plunged into a tank of water and left for future cleaning. Luncheon will depend altogether on the habits of the family, but dinner, at whatever hour that may be, will be the family symposium. Dressed in its honor, with a sprightly addition to the conversation of experience or information or conjecture, there will be form and ceremony of a simple, refined kind, such that once again the family may welcome a guest without anxiety. Good conversation and fresh interests will thus come into the children's lives. How much they have missed in these days of the barring out all hospitality! Is it perchance one reason, if not the chief, why manners have degenerated? This meal will not have more than four courses of food carefully selected and perfectly cooked, whether in the house or out matters not so it is served fresh and of just the right temperature. No kind of cooking will be permitted which "meets the guest in the hall and stays with him in the street"; therefore the dishes may be washed by neatly dressed maids or by the children, who thus learn to care for the fitness of things; plenty of towels and hot water, with all hands doing a little, leaves everything snug and no one too tired. We will let Mr. H.G. Wells describe the bedroom of the future house:[1] [Footnote 1: A Modern Utopia, p. 103.] "The room is, of course, very clear and clean and simple: not by any means cheaply equipped, but designed to economize the labor of redding and repair just as much as possible. "It is beautifully proportioned and rather lower than most rooms I know on earth. There is no fireplace, and I am perplexed by that until I find a thermometer beside six switches on the wall. Above this switchboard is a brief instruction: one switch warms the floor, which is not carpeted, but covered by a substance like soft oilcloth; one warms the mattress (which is of metal with resistance coils threaded to and fro in it); and the others warm the wall in various degrees, each directing current through a separate system of resistances. The casement does not open, but above, flush with the ceiling, a noiseless rapid fan pumps air out of the room. The air enters by a Tobin shaft. "There is a recess dressing-room, equipped with a bath and all that is necessary to one's toilet; and the water, one remarks, is warmed, if one desires it warm, by passing it through an electrically-heated spiral of tubing. A cake of soap drops out of a store-machine on the turn of a handle, and when you have done with it, you drop that and your soiled towels, etc., which are also given you by machines, into a little box, through the bottom of which they drop at once and sail down a smooth shaft. [Better stay in the box and not infect the shaft.--Author.] "A little notice tells you the price of the room, and you gather the price is doubled if you do not leave the toilet as you find it. Beside the bed, and to be lit at night by a handy switch over the pillow, is a little clock, its face flush with the wall [no dust-catcher]. "The room has no corners to gather dirt, wall meets floor with a gentle curve, and the apartment could be swept out effectually by a few strokes of a mechanical sweeper [sucked out by the now-used cleaning-machine.--Author]. The door-frames and window-frames are of metal, rounded and impervious to draft. You are politely requested to turn a handle at the foot of your bed before leaving the room, and forthwith the frame turns up into a vertical position, and the bedclothes hang airing. You stand in the doorway and realize that there remains not a minute's work for any one to do. Memories of the fetid disorder of many an earthly bedroom after a night's use float across your mind. [In America the use of the sleeping-room as a sitting-room is more common than in England, and the fetid disorder is far greater.] "And you must not imagine this dustless, spotless, sweet apartment as anything but beautiful. Its appearance is a little unfamiliar, of course, but all the muddle of dust-collecting hangings and witless ornament that cover the earthly bedroom, the valances, the curtains to check the draft from the ill-fitting windows, the worthless irrelevant pictures, usually a little askew, the dusty carpets, and all the paraphernalia about the dirty black-leaded fireplace are gone. The faintly tinted walls are framed with just one clear colored line, as finely placed as the member of a Greek capital; the door-handles and the lines of the panels of the door, the two chairs, the framework of the bed, the writing-table, have all that exquisite finish of contour that is begotten of sustained artistic effort. The graciously shaped windows each frame a picture--since they are draughtless the window-seats are no mere mockeries as are the window-seats of earth--and on the sill the sole thing to need attention in the room is one little bowl of blue Alpine flowers." The true office of the house is not only to be useful, but to be aesthetically a background for the dwellers therein, subordinate to them, not obtrusive. In most of our modern building and furnishing the people are relegated to the background as insignificant figures. This is largely why the home feeling is absent, why children do not form an affection for the rooms they live in. Let there be nothing in the room because some other person has it; this shows poverty of ideas. Let there be nothing in the room which does not satisfy some need, spiritual or physical, of some member of the family. How bare our rooms would become! Let the skeptical reader try an experiment. Take everything out of a given room, then bring back one by one the things one feels essential not merely because it fills space but for the presence of which some one can give a good and sufficient reason. It will mean a trial of a few days, because it is not easy to separate habit from need. A table _has stood_ in a certain spot: that is no reason in itself why it should continue to stand there unless it supplies a need. If a fetish stands in the way of social progress, do away with it. If the idea of home as the shell is standing in the way of developing the idea of home as a state of mind, then let us cast loose the load of things that are sinking us in the sea of care beyond rescue. It is quite possible that we may return to that state of mind in which there was a pleasure in caring for beautiful objects. The housewife of colonial days did not disdain the washing of her cups of precious china or doing up the heirlooms of lace and embroidery. When our possessions acquire an intrinsic value, when all the work of the house which cannot be done by machinery is that of handling beautiful things and has a meaning in the life of the individual and the family, service will not be required in the vast majority of homes: then we may approach to the Utopian ideal of the nobility of labor. "The plain message that physical science has for the world at large is this, that were our political and social and moral devices only as well contrived to their ends as a linotype machine, an antiseptic operating-plant, or an electric tram-car, there need now, at the present moment, be no appreciable toil in the world, and only the smallest fraction of the pain, the fear, and the anxiety that now make human life so doubtful in its value. There is more than enough for every one alive. Science stands as a too competent servant behind her wrangling, underbred masters, holding out resources, devices, and remedies they are too stupid to use."[1] [Footnote 1: H.G. Wells.] CHAPTER VI. THE COST PER PERSON AND PER FAMILY OF VARIOUS GRADES OF SHELTER. "The strongest needs conquer." An outlay of $1500 to $2500 will secure a cottage in the country, or a tenement with five or six rooms in the suburbs, for a wage-earner's family. The rent for this should be from $125 to $200 per year, but, as in the case of the model tenements in New York, a minimum of sanitary appliances and of labor-saving devices is found in such dwellings. They are adapted to a family life of mutual helpfulness and forbearance. The lack of this kind of housing has been a disgrace to our so-called civilization. Public attention has, however, been directed to the need, and it is gratifying to find in the report of the U.S. Bureau of Labor, Bulletin 54, Sept. 1904, a full account, with photographs and plans, of the work of sixteen large manufacturing establishments in housing their employees. Euthenics, the art of better living, is being recognized as of money value in the case of the wage-earning class, but the wave of social betterment has not yet lifted the salaried class to the point of cooperation for their own elevation. They are obliged to put up with the better grade of workmen's dwellings, or to pay beyond their means for a poor quality of the house designed for the leisure class. In either case, the weight bears hardest on the woman's shoulders, and it is to her awakening that we must look for an impetus toward an understanding of the problems confronting us. The college-educated women of the country believe so fully that the twentieth century will develop a civilization in which brain-power and good taste will outrank mere lavish display, that they have sent out a call to their associations to devise methods of sane and wholesome living which shall leave time and energy free for intellectual pleasure--some, at least, of that time now absorbed by the house and its demands as insignia of social rank. Trained and thoughtful women are convinced that the first step in social redemption is adequate and adaptable shelter for the family. Just so long as tradition and thoughtlessness bind the wife and mother to that form of housekeeping which taxes all the forces of man to supply money and of women to spend it, so long will the most intelligent women decline to sacrifice themselves for so little return. The constructive arts dealing with wood, stone, and metal have been conceded to be man's province. He has used new materials and labor-saving devices in railway stations and place of amusements, not selfishly, but because of the appreciation of the travelling public. It is the fashion to decry labor-saving devices in the house, because they do away with that sign of pecuniary ability, the capped and aproned maid. The obvious saving of steps by the speaking-tube and telephone-call is frowned upon for the same reason. It is this attitude of society which stands in the way of the adoption of those mechanical helps which might do away with nearly all the drudgery and dirty heavy work of the house. The new epoch[1] "is more and more replacing muscle-power fed on wheat at eighty cents a bushel, by machine-power fed on coal at five cents a bushel," thus liberating man from hard and deadening toil. As his mental activity increases his needs in the way of the comforts and decencies of refined living increase. More sanitary appliances are demanded, more expense for fundamental cleanliness is incurred, and for that tidiness and trimness of aspect inside and outside the house which adds both to the labor and to the cost of living, especially in old-style houses. [Footnote 1: The New Epoch. Geo. S. Morison.] While we can but applaud this desire, we must confess that the new building laws, the increased cost of land, and the higher wages of workmen have raised the cost of shelter for human efficiency to double or treble that of the so-called workman's cottage. A fair rule is that each room costs $1000 to $2000 to build. This means that our lowest limit of income, $1000 a year with $200 for rent, can have only two or at most three rooms and bath, and those without elevators and janitor service. It is only when the income reaches $2000 to $3000 a year that the family may have the advantage of good building in a good locality, and even then it means some sacrifice in other directions. It is clear that the common theory that a young man must have a salary of $3000 a year before he dares to marry has some foundation when $600 to $800 is demanded for rent. The increased sanitary requirements have doubled the cost of a given enclosed space, the finish and fittings now found in the best houses have doubled this again, so that it is quite within bounds to say that a house which might have been put up to meet the needs of the day in 1850 for, say, $5000 will now cost $20,000. Much of the increase is for real comfort and advance in decent living, and so far it is to be commended. Such part of the increase as is for ostentation, for show and sham, is to be frowned upon, for this high cost of shelter is to-day the greatest menace to the social welfare of the community. When the average young man finds it impossible to support a family, when the professional man finds it necessary to supplement his chosen work by pot-boiling, by public lectures and any outside work which will bring in money, what wonder that scholarship is not thriving in America? Pitiful tales of such stifling of effort have come to my ears, and have in large part led me to make a plea for a scientific study of the living conditions of this class, and for a readjustment of ideals to the absolute facts of the situation. We may give sympathy to those Italians who pay only $2 a month for the shelter of the whole family, but we must give help to the harder case of a family with refined tastes and high ideals who can pay only $200 a year. In the real country, at a distance from the railroad, air, water, and soil are cheap. Here a house may be put up with its own windmill or gas-engine to pump water, with its own drainage system, giving all the sanitary comforts of the city house, for about $5000. The same inside comforts in one quarter the space, minus the isolation and garden, may be had in a suburban block for one half that sum. This is probably the least expensive shelter to-day for the family whose duties require one or more members of it to be in the city daily, for, as the centre of the city is approached, land rent increases, so that dwelling space must be again curtailed one half or rent doubled. The majority take half a house or go into the city and put up with one quarter the space. The curtailment of space in which families live is going on at an alarming rate, although not yet seriously taken into account by the sociologist for the group we are studying. [Illustration: Figs. 8 and 9.--House for "Mrs. L.," Anywhere in temperate America, to cost $5000, if it must not more (*remainder cut off).] [Illustration: Figs. 10 and 11.--House for "Mrs. L.," Anywhere in temperate America, to cost only $3000, if possible. (Josselyn & Taylor Co., Cedar Rapids, Iowa).] This crowding is causing the refinements of life to be disregarded, is depriving the children of their rights, and doing them almost more harm than comes to the tenement dwellers, for they have the parks to play in and are not kept within doors. Mr. Michael Lane in his "Level of Social Motion" claims that present tendencies are leading to a level of $2000 a year and a family of two children as an average. Mr. Wells claims as a tendency in living conditions the practically automatic and servantless household. In connection with the Mary Lowell Stone Home Economics Exhibit a design of an approach to this kind of a dwelling was asked for in sketch. The accompanying plans were made by a firm who have had not only experience in this kind of domestic building, but who have sympathy with and personal knowledge of similar conditions in widely separated parts of the country. These sketches are not of an _ideal_ house and not for a given plot of land, but only a hint of what Mrs. Michael Lane "must expect if she attempts to build in the country or suburbs." Since these were drawn many changes have come about in costs and in materials available. The architects expressly disclaim the word "model" in relation to them. Mrs. Lane and her two children will do their own work, and therefore steps and stairs must be few, and yet they wish light and air and cleanliness. The author hopes that her readers will make a study of house-plans, not the cheap ones, but those that will bear the test of time and living in. The increased cost of shelter should mean both more comfort and greater beauty. If it does not, something is wrong with society. It appears from all that has been gathered that single houses for a family of five will cost about $5000 to $10,000 for some years to come; that these houses should be so constructed and cared for as to rent for $300 to $400 if the occupant is to keep the grounds in order, to use the house with care, and furnish heat and light. The question of return on capital invested and of care of exteriors and grounds must be studied most carefully in the light of the new conditions, and a new set of conventions devised by society to meet the various circumstances arising out of them. This suburban living is the vital point to be attacked, because in cities the matter is already pretty well settled; there is in sight nothing that will greatly change the rule already given, a cost of $1000 per room of about 1200 cubic feet, with the finish and sanitary appliances demanded. Our family of five must pay for rent $500 to $800 for the smallest quarters they can compress themselves into. Subtracting the cost of heat and light and the car-fares, this may be no more expensive than the suburban house at $300 or $400, _but_ the difference comes in light and air. The upper floors of an isolated skyscraper give more than a country house, but at the expense of other houses in the darkened street. In the city the question is then not so much one of cost of construction as of a fair arrangement of streets and parks, so as to avoid the loss of light and air for living-places. The single individual may find shelter of a safe and refined sort in all respects except air for $200 to $300 a year in the newer apartment-houses, and two friends to share it may halve this sum. A great need is for as good rooms to be furnished in the suburbs where more light and air may be had. The content of the country house costing $5000 to $10,000 will be approximately 50,000 to 70,000 cubic feet, or 10,000 for a person. The suburban block will furnish about 12,000 to 20,000 for the family, while the city apartment of six so-called rooms renting for from $400 to $500 a year shrinks to 6000 to 8000 cubic feet, giving only one tenth the air-space the country house affords, as well as far less outside air and sunshine. The best city tenements cost $1 a week for 600 cubic feet air-space. What wonder that the sanitarian is aghast at the prospect! According to the President of the English Sanitary Inspectors' Association it seems probable that if the nineteenth-century city continues to drain the country of its potentially intellectual class and to squeeze them into smaller and smaller quarters, it will dry up the reservoirs of strength in the population (address, Aug. 18, 1905). The houses of the Morris Building Co., illustrated in Chapter II, show what may be done. These houses rent for $35 to $45 a month with constant heat and hot water, so that the heavy work is reduced to a minimum; but the exigencies of family life are illustrated in the fact of the almost universal demand of the tenants for continuous heat and hot water night as well as day. The ordinary childless apartment house banks its fires at night. A supplementary apparatus would mean work by the tenants, however. This is a good example of the balance which must be struck in all new plans until they are tested. The change in what one gains under the name of shelter, what one pays rent for, must be kept clearly in mind. Two or three decades since it was a tight roof, thinly plastered walls, and a chimney with "thimble-holes for stoves," possibly a furnace with small tin flues, a well or cistern, or perhaps one faucet delivering a small stream of water. To-day even in the suburbs there is furnished light, heat, abundant water, care of halls and sidewalks. The elevator-boy takes the place of "buttons," the engineer and janitor relieve the man of the house of care, so that it may not be so extravagant as it sounds to give one third the $3000 income for rent, since it stops that leaky sieve, that bottomless bag of "operating expenses." The income may be pretty definitely estimated in this case, especially if meals are taken in the café. If the family dine as it happens, the cost mounts up. Here are a few estimates for verification and criticism: Rent of an apartment............$ 600.00 to $ 700.00 Meals........................... 1200.00 " 1000.00 Clothing........................ 400.00 " 600.00 Incidentals, amusements, etc.... 200.00 " 300.00 Savings, _nil_. --------- -------- Total income................... $2400.00 to $2600.00 If the wife can manage the "kitchenette" and part of the clothing, about $600 may be saved, but in that case it represents her earnings, and should be at her disposal. If it should be possible for safe shelter to be had for $400, then with the wife's help $700 should be the sum in the "region of choice." I hold that, unless the income can be managed so as to secure _choice_, all the daily toil is embittered. Even if some is spent foolishly, it is safer than the burden "just not enough." The more common cost of decent living in our Eastern cities is: Rent...............................$1000 to $1500 Meals.............................. 1200 " 1400 Clothing........................... 500 " 700 Incidentals........................ 300 " 600 Savings, _nil_. ----- ----- Total..............................$3000 to $4000 This goes far toward justifying the saying that a young man cannot afford to marry on less than $3000 a year. With these figures in mind, what can our $2000 family with two children do? The rent that they can pay will not cover service or heat. There must be a maid to fill the lamps, see to the furnace, help with the cooking, and the wife must stay by the house pretty closely and probably decline most invitations. For the five persons, ten dollars a week for raw-food materials and five for its preparation is the lowest limit likely to be cheerfully submitted to. Rent, heat, light, etc..................... $400 Food....................................... 800 Clothing hardly less than.................. 400 Children's education, even with free schools, and their illnesses will use up. 100 Car-fares, church, etc..................... 100 Wages and sundries......................... 200 ------ Total..................................... $2000 In the bank nothing. But what shelter can this refined, intelligent family find to-day for $400? Certainly nothing with modern conveniences. The lack of these is _made up by women's work_--hard, rough work. And that is the crux of the servant problem to-day. It is the reason why more families do not go into the country to live. The work required in an old house to bring living up to modern standards is too appalling to be undertaken lightly. In England the Sunlight Park and other plans, in America the Dayton and Cincinnati schemes, are samples of what is being done for the $500 to $800 family, but where are the examples (outside the Morris houses) for the salaried class for whom we are pleading? The great army of would-be home-makers are forced into a nomadic life by the exigencies resulting from the great combines--a shifting of offices, a closing of factories, a breaking up of hundreds of homes. I believe this to be the _chief factor_ in the decline of the American home--a hundred-fold more potent than the college education of women. The unthinking comment on this rise in the cost of shelter is usually condemnation of greedy landlords and soulless capitalists; but is that the whole story? In the present order of things it seems to be inevitable that the gain of one class in the community is loss to another. Probably the law has always existed, and only the very rapid and sudden changes bring it into prominence, because of the swift readjustment needed, an operation which torpid human nature resents when consciously pressed. For instance, the efforts of the philanthropist and working man together have succeeded in shortening hours of labor and increasing wages--without, alas! increasing the speed or quality of the work done, especially in the trades which have to do with materials of construction, so that house-building has about doubled in cost within twenty-five years, largely due to cost of labor. This increased cost has fallen heavily on the very group of people least able to bear it, the skilled artisan, the teacher, and the young salaried man. Again I call attention to the need of a philanthropist who shall raise his eyes to that group, the hope of our democracy, those whom he has held to be able to help themselves--and given time would do so; but time is the very thing denied them in this motor age. Help to make quick adjustment must come to the rescue of those to whom time more than equals money. One used to wait patiently for seed-sown lawns to become velvety turf. Money can bring sod from afar and in a season give the results of years. So the housing of the $2000 family can be accomplished just as soon as it seems sufficiently desirable. It needs a research just as truly as the cancer problem or desert botany, and affects thousands more. One other cause of increased cost in construction and operation which does, if wisely carried out, increase health and efficiency is the sanitary provision of our recent building laws. The instalment of these sanitary appliances becomes increasingly costly because of the rise in wages of the workmen, plumbers, masons, etc. The careful statistics of the Bureau of Labor show conclusively that all building trades have decreased hours of labor and increased wages per hour, so that cost of construction has doubled, and the sanitary requirements have again doubled the cost, so that it is easy to see why the family with a stationary income has quartered its dwelling-space. The end is not yet: the new devices mentioned in previous chapters will at first increase cost of construction. From lack of business training the public is at fault in estimating relative costs. A well-built "automatic house" costs too much, they say. Yes, but what does it save? Cost looms large, saving seems small. Moreover, the value of mental serenity, of that peace of mind consequent on the smooth running of the domestic machine, is undervalued. The American child such as he is is largely the product of the American house and its ill adapted construction. I must reiterate my belief that the modification of the house itself to the life the twentieth century is calling for is the first step in social reform. CHAPTER VII. THE RELATION BETWEEN COST OF HOUSING AND TOTAL INCOME. "It must be made possible to live within one's income." The thrifty French rule is one fifth for rent. In towns where land is cheap and wood abundant, or in college communities exempt from taxes, comfortable housing is found in this country for as little as fifteen or eighteen per cent of the total income. In some mining towns where all prospects are uncertain and the house has no particular social significance the rent may be even lower, although it is often very high. It depends on the demand, on competition rather than quality. In our older and more settled communities it is most common for rent to use up one fourth the salary of all town dwellers with incomes within our limits. This was true in Boston fifty years ago, and it is true to-day in dozens of cities and towns personally investigated. It is not unknown that a teacher or business man should exceed this in the hope of a rise in salary by the second year. Adding the expenses of operating the house, of repairs and additions and improvements if the house is owned, nearly half the money available must go for the mere housing of the family. If it is true, as I believe it is, that for each fraction over one fifth spent for rent a saving must be made in some other direction--in the daily expense, less service, less costly food, or less expensive clothing, or, last to be cut down, less of the real pleasure of life,--it will be seen what a far-reaching question this is, how it touches the vital point, to have or not to have other good things in life. A large part of the increase is due, as we have said, to increased demand for sanitary conveniences, but far more potent is the pressure resulting from the price of land. This pressure has led to the building of smaller and smaller apartments, so that four and six rooms are made out of floor-space sufficient for two. It sounds better to say we have a six-room flat, even though there is no more privacy than in two rooms, for the rooms are mere cells unless the doors are always open. It is not uncommon in such suites renting for $50 to $60 per month for six rooms, to find three of them with only one window on one side, with no chance for cross-ventilation unless the doors of the whole suite are open. This style of building prevails even in the suburbs where air and sunshine should be free. The would-be renter looking at such suites with all the doors open and the rooms innocent of fried fish and bacon does not think of the place as it _will be_ under living conditions when privacy can be had only by smothering. The model tenements in New York rent for one dollar per week per room; the better houses for double, or two dollars for 450 cubic feet. Many of those I have examined renting for forty to sixty dollars per month give no more space for the money, only a little better finish--marble and tile in the bath-room, for instance. The three-room tenement does, however, shelter as many persons as the six-room flat, hence there is more real overcrowding. In all these grades of shelter it is fresh air that is wanting. What wonder the white plague is always with us? What remedy so long as millions sleep in closets with no air-currents passing through? Accepting the French rule, the artisan who rents the model tenement at $3.50 per week should earn $3 a day wage for six days. If he earn only $2, then more than one quarter must go for housing. There are hundreds of Italian families in New York who pay only $2 _per month_ for such shelter as they have, but it is only providing for the primitive idea of mere shelter, not for the comforts of a true home life. After the fashion of early man, these people spend their lives in the open air, eat wherever they may be, and use this makeshift shelter as protection from the weather and as a place of deposit for such articles as they do not carry about with them and for such weaklings as cannot travel. As man rises in the scale of wants he pays more, in attention and in money, for housing, because he leaves wife and children to its comforts while he goes forth to his daily tasks. As ideals rise, the proportion rises until even one third of his earnings goes for mere shelter. But this limits his desires in other directions, so that it becomes a pertinent question, when is it right to give as much as one third of the moderate income for housing? As every heart knows its own bitterness, so every man knows his own business and what proportion of his income he is _willing_ to spend for a house, for the comforts of life pertain largely to bed and board. It must be acknowledged, however, that comfort and discomfort are so largely matters of habit and personal point of view that education as to ideals is an important duty of society in its own defence. If two people without children prefer to spend more on shelter than on any other one thing, then with $3000 a year, $1000 may be given for rent if that covers heat, light, and general outside care. But the _family_ with children to consider must not think of allowing one third for rent under our very highest limit of $5000 a year, and it is unwise even then. In fact the ratio must be governed by circumstances. It is true, however, that the conditions must be interpreted by a fixed principle in living and not by any mere fashion or prejudice of the moment. The one question every person asks when these suggested improvements are discussed is, but how much will it cost? Thus confessing that cost, not effectiveness, is the measure; that old ideals as to money value still rule the world. It costs too much to have a furnace large enough to warm a sufficient volume of air, it costs too much to put in safe plumbing, it costs too much to keep the house clean, and so on through the list. We have been too busy getting and spending money to study the cost of neglect of cardinal principles of right living. The farmer knows the cost of his young animals, but the father cares little and knows less of what it ought to cost to bring up his children--of the economy of spending wisely on a safe shelter for them. A new estimate of what necessary things must cost has to be made before the present generation will live comfortably in presence of the account-book. Here again a readjustment is coming; some expenses in house construction common now will be lessened or done away with; for example, fancy shapes, grooved and carved wood, projecting windows and door-frames. It is usual, when the various new methods are brought up, to estimate the cost as additional to all that has gone before, rather than to see in it a substitute for much that may go. Our family with $1500 income may safely pay $300 for rent, if that covers enough comfort and does not mean too much car-fare. The house may cost $3000 if built on the old lines, and if the land it is placed on is not too expensive. A fire-proof house such as is described in the July number of the _Brickbuilder and Architect_, 85 Water St., Boston, and probably also a house of reinforced concrete, will cost at present some $10,000 besides the land. Because of freedom from repairs it should be possible to rent such houses for $500, which will bring them within the reach of our $3000 a year family, but not within the means of the $2000. What is to be done? It will be remarked by some that little attention has been given in these pages to the various so-called cooperative plans, like Mrs. Stuckert's oval of fifty houses connected by a tramway at each level, with a central kitchen from which all meals come and to which all used dishes return, with a central office from which service is sent, etc. Frankly, to my mind this is not enough better than the apartment hotel, as we now know it, to pay for the effort to establish it. As now evolved by demand, the establishments renting from one to fifteen thousand a year are on progressive lines. According to Mr. Wells, this shareholding class is on the way to extinction in any case, fortunately he also thinks, and the student of social economics need not concern himself with its future, only so far as its example influences the real bone and sinew of the republic, the working men and women who make the world the place it is. Within the ten-mile radius it has been usual to include a front yard, if not a garden, in the house-lot. The cost of keeping this in the trim fashion decreed as essential, of planting and pruning of shrubs, of maintaining in immaculate condition the sidewalks and front steps, like most of the items in cost of living, is due to changed standards, just as the cost of table-board has advanced from $3 to $6 without a corresponding betterment in quality. Engle's law, "The lodging, warming, and lighting have an invariable proportion whatever the income," does not hold under modern conditions for the group we are considering, for our wise ones need the best, and not a few of them are unwilling to buy their family sanctity at the price of a closet in the basement for the faithful maid. Plans may look well on paper, the completed house may seem attractive, but when the family _live_ in the house its deficiencies become apparent. Cheap materials, flimsy construction, damp location, any one of a dozen possibilities may make the family uncomfortable, may cost in heating and doctor's bills, may compel a moving before the year is out. Cheap houses in this decade are suspicious; the more need for a knowledge on the part of young people of what may be expected. For this reason it is a part of sound education to give a certain amount of attention to living conditions in the high-school curriculum. It is as important as book-keeping; for of what avail are money and business, if the home life is perilled? Besides, some of the pupils may have attention called to deficiencies which they may show talent in overcoming. Courses in Home Economics and Household Administration in colleges and universities should be directed to careful study of this branch of sociology. There is a great opportunity before women's clubs and civic-improvement associations to arouse an interest in the provision of suitable shelter for the young families in their several neighborhoods. Concerted movement by the Federation could revolutionize public opinion within a decade. The student of social science may well say that the first effort should be directed to a rise in the pay of these educated young men; that no family should be expected to live on the sums here considered; that it is not right even to consider a way out on the present basis. Possibly so. Much agitation is abroad in relation to the pay of teachers, clerks, and skilled workmen, but that is another question which cannot be considered here. The salaried class has so enormously increased of late years because of the great consolidation of business interests that the final adjustment has not been made. The one fact of uncertain tenure of position and uncertain promotion has profoundly affected living conditions, ownership of the family abode, and, incidentally, marriage. There are prizes enough, however, to keep the young people on the alert for advancement, and they feel it more likely to come if they establish themselves as if it had arrived. There is no denying that in the estimation of a large number of the groups we are considering, the question of neat and orderly service, the capped and aproned maid, the liveried bell-boy and butler, express--like the smoothly shaven lawn--a certain social convention; and because it means expense, the house in working order means more than shelter: it sets forth pecuniary standing in the community. So long as this means social standing also, so long will the professional and business family on $2000 a year be shut out, because these adjuncts to a luxurious living are impossible. Can society afford to shut out the intellectual and mentally progressive element, or must it accept as normal these salaries and make it respectable to begin on them? It is the strain which unessential social conventions give to the young families that leads the business father to speculate in order to get into the $10,000-a-year class, and that leads the young scientific and literary man to take extra work outside of his normal duties. This sort of thing cannot go on without serious danger to the Republic. Cleanliness and good manners should be insisted upon, but they may be secured on $3000 a year if too much else is not required. How to secure them on $1500 is a problem to be solved, for cleanliness costs more each decade. After all is said, if the young people have an earnest _purpose_ in life it is easy to plan a method of living and to carry it out. The sacrifices one must make in the house superficially, in the consideration of a certain class, are cheerfully borne and soon forgotten. Little discomforts which affect only one's feelings and not one's health make rather good stories after they are over. What is worth while? Are we become too sensitive to little things? Do we imagine we show our higher civilization by discerning with the little princess the pea under twenty-four feather beds? Let our shelter be first of all healthful, physically and morally. If to gain these qualities we must take a house in an unfashionable neighborhood, it should not cause distress. Why is this particular region unfashionable? Is it not merely because certain would-be leaders choose to live beyond their means in company with those who are able to spend more? Why not be honest and happy? Live within your income and make it cover the truest kind of living. CHAPTER VIII. TO OWN OR TO RENT: A DIFFICULT QUESTION. "Half the sting of poverty is gone when one keeps house for one's own comfort and not for the comment of one's neighbors." --Miss MULOCK. When the ideals of an older generation are forced upon a younger, already struggling under new and strange environment, the effect is often opposite to that intended. The elders in their pride of knowledge, and the real-estate promoters in their greed for gain, have been urging the young man to own his house on penalty of shirking his plain duty. They say he must have a home to offer his bride, as the bird has a nest. Building-loan associations, homes on the instalment plan, appeal to the sentiments they think the young man ought to heed. The young man is often modest, almost always sensitive, and he prefers to bear dispraise rather than to tell the real reason he hesitates. His ear is closer to the ground, he feels even if he cannot express the doubt of the disinterestedness of the land-scheme promoter, of the wisdom of his father. He knows better than his elders the uncertainties of salaried men, young men with a way to make in the unstable conditions of to-day. The effect of this well-meant advice is not to hasten his marriage, but to put it off because he is not allowed to take the course he feels safest. Or if he is willing, the parents of his prospective bride are not, and so young people do not marry on $1000 a year, for fear of the elder generation and their supposed wisdom. The young people are not justified by present-day conditions in owning a house on an income of $2000 a year _unless_ (1) They have money to put into it which it will not cripple them for life to lose; (2) They care so much for the idea of ownership that they are willing to take the risk of losing one half the investment should they be compelled to move; (3) They possess the fortitude to give it up at the call of duty after all they have lavished on it; (4) They care enough for the real education and the real fun they will get out of it to save in other ways what the running and repairs will cost _over and above the amount estimated_. This saving will be largely by doing many things with their own hands. To be bound hand and foot either by unsalable real estate or by sentiment is an uncomfortable condition for the young family who may find itself in uncongenial surroundings, in an unhealthful situation, or who may need to retrench temporarily. Another serious objection to building and owning a house in the first years of married life is the chance that the house will be too large or too small, or the railroad station will be moved, or the trolley line will be run under the garden window, or a smoking chimney will fill the library with soot (although the latter will not be permitted in the real twentieth-century town). A new element has come into the question of ownership by the family of limited means which did not meet the elder generation of house-owners. In the past the repairs were confined to a coat of paint now and then, new shingles, an added hen-house, or a bay window. The well might have to be deepened, but little expense was put into or onto the house for fifty years. The married son or daughter might add a wing, but the main house once built was never disturbed. In the modern plastic condition of both ideals and materials this is all changed. In any city well known to my readers how many streets bear the same aspect as five years ago? In any suburban village made familiar by the trolley how many houses are the same as five years ago? Even if their outward aspect is not changed, that worst of all havocs, new plumbing, has been put in. The installation of neither furnace nor plumbing is accomplished once for all; at the end of ten years at most repairs or replacement must be made on penalty of loss of health. As the community grows in wisdom and in knowledge it makes sanitary regulations more stringent notwithstanding the fact that the increase in expense bears most heavily on the small householder with a family whose need is out of proportion to the income. Many a parent who grieves the loss of his child would gladly have paid a reasonable sum for repairs, but would have been in the poor debtors' court if he had allowed the plumbers to enter his house. The new laws made since he bought his house require diametrically opposite things, and the old fittings must all be torn out as well as four times as costly put in. It is a sad fact that the advantages of all modern sanitation are so often denied to those who need and who would appreciate them. The renter has here an advantage over the owner. He can call for an examination by the city or town inspector before he takes a lease; the capitalist owner must then put matters right. But as yet a man has a right to live with leaky sewer- or gas-pipes in his own house without being disturbed by an inspector. How far into the century this will be allowed is uncertain; in time there will be an inspection of the premises of the small owner. The only remedy in sight is for an investment of capital in up-to-date houses of various grades in city, suburbs, and country; such investment to bring 4 per cent, not 40, or even 15, unless by rise of land values. No better use of idle money could be made at the present time. In "Anticipations" Mr. Wells writes: "The erection of a series of experimental labor-saving houses by some philanthropic person for exhibition and discussion would certainly bring about an extraordinary advance in domestic comfort; but it will probably be many years before the cautious enterprise of advertising firms approximates to the economies that are theoretically possible to-day." This is truer now than when Mr. Wells was writing. The great difficulty in the way is the first outlay. So many things will have to be designed, patterns made and machinery built to make them; for this advance in construction will not be by hand-made things. There will be more head-work put into the various articles, but the mass of constructive material must be machine-made, at least for the family of limited income. And these articles need not be ugly. There must be many of the same kind in the world, to be sure; but if the design fits the purpose, this may not be an evil. No one objects to a beautiful elm-tree in his field because in hundreds of fields there are similar elm-trees. Slight variations in finish, color, etc., can give individuality to the simplest chair. Therefore the first outlay for the new order will be beyond the purse of any single family of this group. If we had learned to cooperate sanely, a group might undertake it, but the most probable method will be for some far-sighted men to agree to sink a certain amount of money in experiment, just as they now sink money in prospecting a mine with all the uncertainty it brings. Ability to _risk_ in an experiment must go hand in hand with capital to use. The objection commonly made is that all individuality will be taken away, that each one must live like every one else in the neighborhood. This is not an essential consequence, but will it be so impossible to have a certain similarity in the dwellings of like-minded people? In "Anticipations" it is declared that "Unless some great catastrophe in Nature breaks down all that man has built, these great kindred groups of capable men and educated adequate women must be under the forces we have considered so far, the element finally emergent amid the vast confusions of the coming time."[1] [Footnote 1: Anticipations, pp. 153-4.] The practical people, the engineering and medical and scientific people, will become more and more _homogeneous_ in their fundamental culture. The decreasing of the space one can call one's own within urban limits has so steadily increased, and the need for freer air has become so fully recognized, that the case of the single householder in the suburbs and even in the country is bound to press harder and harder. The group system elsewhere referred to, with central heating plant and workers of all grades at telephone-call, will make possible at a reasonable rent within easy reach of the city the single household of one, two, or three, as the case may be, and if without children of their own, to such shelter may come some of those homeless little ones we have with us always, to share in the sun and wind and garden. In the real country, with acres instead of feet of land, much of the same kind of elaborate simplicity will be found. Certainly the same kind of fire-proof house of only one story with more light, "roofs of steel and glass on the louver principle," will obviate so frequent a change of air as a shut-in house requires, and give more equable temperature. In the city? Since physicians will surely be more insistent on light, as well as fresh air, roof-gardens and balconies and glazed walls, so to speak, will be arranged by the architect so as not to offend the eye and yet to accomplish the results. He will cease from trying to put the new ideas of the twentieth century into the old houses of the eighteenth or fifteenth even, and that beauty, which is fitness, will come forth from the tangle of ugliness everywhere. If, as the economist tells us, "cost measures lack of adjustment," then the perfectly adjusted house will not be costly in reality, it will be adapted to the production and protection of effective human beings. The cellar has for some years been changing to a storage for trunks instead of vegetables. The old-fashioned housewife exclaims at the lack of storage in the house of to-day, and we are eliminating it still more. A twentieth-century axiom is, "Throw or give away everything you have not immediate or prospective use for." It is as true of household furniture as of books; only the very best is of any value second-hand. Our young people may have heirlooms, but they will buy very little in the way of sideboards or first editions. The moral of modern tendencies is, buy only what you are sure you will need or what you care for so intensely that you will keep it come what may. Housing of possible treasures is far too costly. At the foundation of the ethical side of ownership is the primitive impulse of possession, that ownership which led to wife-capture, to feudal castles, to accumulation of things, and to-day is expressed by the man who prefers to have his steak cooked in his own kitchen even if it is burned. It is notorious that most of us put up with discomfort if it is caused by _our own_. A family of eight will use one bath-room without murmur if the house is theirs, but will complain loudly if the landlord will not add two without increasing the rent. At the foundation of what seem exorbitant rents is this demand for modern improvements in old houses, and the atrocious carelessness of tenants of property. It is not their own, and they do not obey the golden rule in the use of it. Every five years or so plumbing laws are changed, and if an old house is touched the fixtures and pipes must be all renewed. Tenants have learned to fear the sanitation of old houses, and yet abuse the appliances they should care for. Public ownership or corporate ownership or an increased lawlessness are accountable for a disregard of others' rights and of property which is unnecessarily increasing the cost of living. I have said elsewhere that it is not because the landlord does not want children in the house but because he does not want such ill-bred children, vandals, who have no respect for anything. He charges high rent because his investment is good for only ten years. The shibboleth of duty to own a home has so strong a hold on the moral sense of the people that it is made use of by the promoter who may in some cases think himself the philanthropist he intends others to call him. I mean that the duty of owning and the heinousness of paying rent are so ingrained that buying on the instalment plan has seemed a righteous thing, even with the examples of broken lives in plain sight. As an incentive to save, if there were anything to save, it might have been justified in the days of feudalism. But for an independent American to confess that he cannot put money in the bank, and that he must bind himself and his family to slavery, for the sake of owning a bit of property which they will probably wish to sell before they have it paid for, is disgraceful. Intelligent men should see that here is the profit in the transaction; that enough go to the wall to pay for the trouble of the rest, just as in life insurance enough die before the expected time to put money in the pockets of the riskers. A drunken father may need to be held, but the young professor, the lawyer, the engineer, should have sufficient self-respect and firmness to save that which in his judgment is necessary, without being tied by "the instalment plan." This method is a very viper in the finances of to-day. The wise business man never ventures more than he can afford to lose in a risk, but the man who takes bread and milk from his children to invest in "a sure thing" takes a risk with what is not his to give. To buy land for investment is another supposed virtue, an inheritance from the time when slow growth, once started in a given direction, kept on, so that great acumen was not needed to buy; but that is all changed to-day. Only those "in the ring" can tell where the "boom" will go next. In these days of unparalelled rapidity of change in industrial and social conditions it is most undesirable for a man to be hampered by a shell which is too large to carry about with him and too valuable to be left behind. To each reader will occur instances of the refusal of an advantageous offer because the family home could not be realized upon at once, the location once so favorable had become undesirable, and the values put into it could not be recovered because of social conditions following industrial changes. The keen observer hesitates in view of all these conditions to advise any young man to invest in real estate for a home beyond a sum which he can afford to lose if need arises to move. These changes carry a need for mobilization of its army of workers. The encumbrance of family Lares and Penates cannot be tolerated. Only a small per cent of young men are to-day sure of remaining in the city in which they begin business. What folly to encumber themselves with real estate which, sold at a sacrifice, brings barely half its price! Moral exhorters have not carefully considered this side of the question in their arguments for house-owning and family-rearing as anchors to the young man. The fact noted earlier is a case in point. After the wedding-cards were out the bridegroom was transferred to the charge of the company's office in another city. The expenses necessitated by these frequent removals make an unaccounted-for item in many incomes. If the young couple have saved or inherited between them, say, $3000, shall they build a home with it? Decidedly not. Because the house will cost $5000 before they are done. Not only because of the unexpected in strikes and change in prices of materials, but because, as the plans take shape, the wife or the husband or both will see so many little points which they will ask for, the paper plan not having conveyed a definite idea to either. An excellent plan was carried out by a college woman. She made a model to scale in pasteboard, of such a size that every essential detail was shown in its relation to other portions of the structure. Even if these young people do not yield at the moment of building, they will probably wish they had yielded when they come to live in the house. There will be nothing for it but to mortgage the place to make it satisfactory. One cannot take up a newspaper without finding notice after notice, reading, "Must be sold to pay the mortgage." Exorbitant rent is of course social waste, and society must protect its ablest young people from their own folly; but when they understand the rules of the financial game better they will lend themselves more readily to some cooperative plan of relief. It is, as I well know, rank heresy, but I firmly believe that building and owning of houses can be afforded only by those having the higher limit of income, $3000 to $5000 a year, _unless_ the person has a permanent position or a business of great security, and in these days who can be _sure_ of anything? When the land-scheme promoter advertises homes on the instalment plan, beware of the trap! Let no one buy in the suburbs from a sense of duty and then hate the life. Comfort in living is far more in the brains than in the back. It is so easy for a man or woman with one set of ideals to do that which another would consider impossible drudgery. My final advice is that the sensible young couple both of whom agree about essentials, and who are willing and glad to work together for a common end, and who love nature and gardening and believe in family life so strongly as not to miss the crowd and theatres, may safely start a home in the country with a garden, and pets for the children, if they have a reasonable prospect of ten years in one spot. Let them make the place attractive for some family, even if they have to leave it. The women of this group will, I believe, have the qualities Mr. Wells predicts: not only intelligence and education, but a reasonableness and reliability not always found to-day. Unless a reasonable prospect of ten years' occupancy is assured, then begin life in a rented house, not necessarily in a flat. Begin with a few things of your own some which have been yours for years, some which you have bought together and which have a meaning for one of you and are not irritating to the other. Devote a part of your leisure to a critical study of the house you would like, draw plans, make sketches in color, study color effects, learn about fabrics, collect them for the future. You will find an amusing and instructive occupation. The essential point is to begin this life on two thirds of what you have reason to expect as the year's income; keep the rest invested or in the bank. There are to-day many temptations to spend for things attractive in themselves but not necessary to the effective life. If friends are so silly as to rally you on living in an unfashionable quarter, ask them in to see your sketches and plans, and talk them into enthusiasm over the idea. Do missionary work with them rather than be ridiculed out of your convictions. It sometimes seems as if young people had no convictions, as if they drifted with the wind of newspaper suggestion. So do not allow your friends to drive you to greater expense than you have determined upon, lest the end of the first two years of life find you in debt with no fair start for the baby, whose life should begin in an atmosphere of quiet assurance that all is well. It is not impossible that the nervous irritability and recklessness of many are due to the atmosphere of childhood. Then remember that _the welfare and security of the child is the watchword of the future_. A FEW BOOKS. Anticipations. H.G. Wells. Mankind in the Making. H.G. Wells. Scribners. A Modern Utopia. H.G. Wells. Scribners. Twentieth-century Inventions: a Forecast. Geo. Sutherland. Longmans, Green, & Co. The Level of Social Motion. Michael Lane. Macmillan. The Theory of the Leisure Class. Thorstein Veblen. Macmillan. The Woman who Spends. Whitcomb and Barrows. Physical Deterioration: Its Causes and their Cure. A. Watt Smyth. E.P. Dutton. Shelter. Syllabus 94, Home Education Dept, Univ. of N.Y. State Library, Albany. Report of the Tenement-house Commission. INDEX. A Adaptation lack of "Anticipations" Advisers, home Age, spirit of the Air Altruria Albert's, Prince, advice Apartment houses Architects Architecture, domestic Arts, constructive B Bachelor apartment Back, bending the strength of Badges of toil Boarding houses origin of Breakfast Building laws loan associations Building trades Bureau of Labor, U.S. C Capital Care of rooms human body Carpentry in high school Centrifugal force Children deterioration of manners of Choice City houses Civilization Class to work for Cleaning machine Cleanliness Clothing Colonial houses period, housebuilding of Southern type of, houses Commuter, trials of Companionship Compromise Concrete Consciousness, social Construction Consumption, destructive Conveniences Cooperation Cost increasing of housing and total income per person and per family Country Crowding D Dayton scheme Debt Demand business Democracy Deterioration of houses Dirt Discomforts Discontent Dishonesty in standards Dole, Charles Domestic comfort machine progress, retarded unrest Drainage Drudgery Dust E Economics, home, exhibit household social Economist Economy Effective life workers Effectiveness Efficiency loss of Energy Engineering, definition of Engle's law Environment Euthenics Evolution Expense Expenses operating Experience in doing lack of Experts, house Extravagance F Family table Farm life Flat Flats Floors, hard-wood lignolith Food Force for regeneration Foreigner Friction due to house G Garden Gardening Gas-stoves Group system H Habit, perils of Habits Hands Heating Home abandonment of advisers Anglo-Saxon meaning of building of Home economics feeling life love of makers means privacy ties loosened Homeless Homestead Hospitality Hot water House building Colonial evidence of social standing -keepers -keeping, twentieth-century -maids, physical inefficiency of planning in High School plans suburban Houses city Colonial, of New England four classes of modern Housing I Ideal Ideas Improvements Income Individual Industries, disappearance of Installment plan Invasion of residential districts Invention Investment K Kitchen accompaniments remodelled, in Providence Kitchenette L Labor, Bureau of -saving devices Lack of adaptation business training experience faithful service harmony study Land Landlord Land-scheme promoter Lane, Mr. Michael Leaven of progress Legacy "Level of Social Motion" Life effective frontier fuller home open air private, shabby restrained Light Living, decent sane cost of Location Lodge, Sir Oliver M Machinery Maid's rooms Making of things Man, early primitive Manners Marriage, responsibility of Meals Mechanical progress Menial Middle, leaven of progress in Model Tenement Association, New York Money basis measure of success spender value Morison, Geo. S Morris Building Co Mulock, Miss N Nasmyth, James Natural selection Nature love of return to Neill, Chas. P., extracts from address by New Epoch, The O Opinion, public Owen, Robert Own or rent Ownership P Parks Parsons, Wm. Barclay Patronage of the arts Permanence in homestead, lack of Pettingill, Miss [Transcriber's Note: Pettengill in text.] Philanthropist Philanthropy Physical ill-being in domestics school children wage-earners Place of the house Plans Plumbing Possibilities in sight Preeminence, social Primitive man Principle, fixed race Privacy Private life shabby Productive work Progress leaven of race Protection Q Question, a difficult R Race principle Readjustment Real estate Refuge Regeneration, force for Rent or own -payers Residential districts, invasion of Responsibility of marriage Restaurant Restrained life Return to nature Rights to property, etc. Roosevelt, President S Sanitarian Sanitary English, Inspectors Association, President of Sanitation Saving Schools, public Science Scrubbing Selection, natural Self-interest -preservation Service faithful, lack of Sewer connection, houses without Shelter Shelter, marrying for Sheltering the children Simplicity Social advance aspiration betterment conditions Social conscience consciousness convention economics ostracism pleasure preëminence science significance standing welfare Society Sociologist Sociology Somerville Space diminishing Spender Spirit of the age Standards Stone, Mary Lowell, Home Economics Exhibit Structure Stuckert, Mrs Study, lack of Suburban houses living square Suburbs Sun-parlors Sunlight Park, England T Table, family Tax Temporary home Tenant Tenement N.Y. Model, Association Tennyson Tenure, permanence of shortness of uncertain Transition period Tuberculosis U U.S. Bureau of Labor Unrest, domestic Unsanitary Utopian V Veblen Ventilation Village houses influx from W Wage-earners Waste, conspicuous Watchword of the future Water, hot Wedding presents Well-being of community threatened Wells, H.G. White plague Wife Window Woman Women, corporation of Women's work Work, menial productive women's Workers, effective Working men Y Young people Youth, American 
14117	----	WANTED, A YOUNG WOMAN TO DO HOUSEWORK Business Principles Applied to Housework by C. HÉLÈNE BARKER Author of _Automobile French_ New York Moffat, Yard & Company 1915 PREFACE This little book is not a treatise on Domestic Science. The vacuum cleaner and the fireless cooker are not even mentioned. The efficient kitchen devised in such an interesting and clever way has no place in it. Its exclusive object is to suggest a satisfactory and workable solution along modern lines of how to get one's housework efficiently performed without doing it one's self. If the propositions that she advances seem at first startling, the writer begs only for a patient hearing, for she is convinced by strong reasons and abundant experience, that liberty in the household, like social and political liberty, can never come except from obedience to just law. C.H.B. CONTENTS PART I CAUSES OF THE PRESENT UNSATISFACTORY CONDITION OF DOMESTIC LABOR Ignorance and Inefficiency in the Home 1 Difficulty of Obtaining Women to Do Housework 11 The Disadvantages of Housework Compared with Work in Factories, Stores, and Offices 19 PART II BUSINESS PRINCIPLES APPLIED TO HOUSEWORK Living Outside Place of Employment 31 Housework Limited to 8 Hours a Day 47 Housework Limited to 6 Days a Week 61 The Observance of Legal Holidays 75 Extra Pay for Overtime 81 PART III EIGHT HOUR SCHEDULES IN THE HOME Eight Hour Schedules for One Employee 93 Eight Hour Schedules for Two Employees 109 Eight Hour Schedules for Three Employees 121 PART I CAUSES OF THE PRESENT UNSATISFACTORY CONDITION OF DOMESTIC LABOR Ignorance and inefficiency in the home. Difficulty of obtaining women to do housework. The disadvantages connected with housework compared with work in factories, stores, and offices. IGNORANCE AND INEFFICIENCY IN THE HOME The twentieth-century woman, in spite of her progressive and ambitious theories about woman's sphere of activity, has allowed her housekeeping methods to remain almost stationary, while other professions and industries have moved forward with gigantic strides. She does not hesitate to blazon abroad with banners and pennants her desire to share with man the responsibility for the administration of the State, but she overlooks the disquieting fact that in the management of her own household, where her authority is absolute, she has failed to convince the world of her power to govern. When confronted with this accusation, she asserts that the maintenance of a home is neither a business nor a profession, and that in consequence it ought not to be compared with them nor be judged by the same standards. Is it not due perhaps to this erroneous idea that housekeeping is a failure to-day? For the fact that it is a failure cannot be hidden, and that it has been a failure for many years past is equally true. Recent inventions, and labor saving utensils, have greatly facilitated housework, yet housekeeping is still accompanied with much dissatisfaction on the part of the employer and the employee. There are only a few women to-day who regard domestic science in the light of a profession, or a business, although in reality it is both. For what is a profession if it be not the application of science to life? And does not work which one follows regularly constitute a business? Many women, however, do not regard housekeeping even as a serious occupation, and few have devoted as much time, thought, and energy to mastering the principles of domestic economy as of late years women of all classes of society have willingly given to the study of the rules and ever changing intricacies of auction bridge. Some consider their time too valuable to devote to domestic and culinary matters, and openly boast of their ignorance. Outside engagements, pleasures, philanthropic schemes, or work, monopolize their days, and the conduct of the house devolves upon their employees. The result is rarely satisfactory. It is essential that the woman who is at the head of any concern, be it a business, a profession, or a home, should not only thoroughly understand its every detail, but in order to make it a success she must give it her personal attention each day for at least a portion of her time. It is a popular impression that the knowledge of good housekeeping, and of the proper care of children, comes naturally to a woman, who, though she had no previous training or preparation for these duties, suddenly finds them thrust upon her. But how many women can really look back with joy to the first years of their housekeeping? Do they not remember them more with a feeling of dismay than pleasure? How many foolish mistakes occurred entailing repentance and discomfort! And how many heart-burnings were caused, and even tears shed, because in spite of the best intentions, everything seemed to go wrong? And why? Simply because of ignorance and inefficiency in the home, not only of the employee, but of the employer also. That an employee is ignorant and unskilled in her work is often excusable, but there is absolutely no excuse for a woman who has time and money at her command, to be ignorant of domestic science, when of her own free will she undertakes the responsibilities of housekeeping. Nearly all women take interest in the furnishing of their homes, and give their personal attention to it with the result that as a rule they excel in household decoration, and often produce marvels of beauty and taste with the expenditure of relatively small amounts of money. Marketing is also very generally attended to in person by the housewife, but she is using the telephone more and more frequently as a substitute for a personal visit to butcher and grocer, and this is greatly to her disadvantage. The telephone is a very convenient instrument, especially in emergency, or for ordering things that do not vary in price. But when prices depend upon the fluctuations of the market, or when the articles to be purchased are of a perishable nature, it must be remembered that the telephone is also a very convenient instrument for the merchant who is anxious to get rid of his bad stock. The remaining branches of housekeeping apparently do not interest the modern housewife. She entrusts them very generally to her employees, upon whose skill and knowledge she blindly relies. Unfortunately skill and knowledge are very rare qualities, and if the housewife herself be ignorant of the proper way of doing the work in her own home, how can she be fitted to direct those she places in charge of it, or to make a wise choice when she has to select a new employee? Too often she engages women and young girls without investigating their references of character or capability, and when time proves what an imprudent proceeding she has been party to, she simply attributes the consequent troubles to causes beyond her control. If the housewife were really worthy of her name she would be able not only to pick out better employees, but to insist upon their work being properly done. To-day she is almost afraid to ask her cook to prepare all the dishes for the family meals, nor does she always find some one willing to do the family washing. She is obliged to buy food already cooked from the caterer or baker, because her so-called "cook" was not accustomed to bake bread and rolls, or to make pies and cakes, or ice cream, for previous employers, from whom nevertheless she received an excellent reference as cook. Of course in cities it is easy to buy food already cooked or canned and to send all the washing to the laundry, but it helps to raise the "high cost of living" to alarming proportions, and it also encourages ignorance in the most important branches of domestic economy. In spite of the "rush of modern life," a woman who has a home ought to be willing to give some part of her time to its daily supervision. Eternal vigilance is the price of everything worth having. If she gave this she would not have so many tales of woe to relate about the laziness, neglectfulness, and stupidity of her cook and housemaids. There is not a single housewife to-day who has not had many bitter experiences. One who desires information upon this subject has only to call on the nearest friend. To the uninterested person, to the onlooker, the helplessness of the woman who is at the head of the home, her inability to cope with her domestic difficulties, is often comic, sometimes pathetic, sometimes almost tragic. The publications of the day have caricatured the situation until it has become an outworn jest. The present system of housekeeping can no longer stand. One of two things must occur. Either the housewife must adopt business principles in ruling her household, or she will find before many more years elapse there will be no longer any woman willing to place her neck under the domestic yoke. If the principles set forth in the following pages can be popularized in a comprehensive plan of which all the parts can be thoroughly understood both by the housewife and her employee, ignorance and inefficiency in the home will be presently abolished. DIFFICULTY OF OBTAINING WOMEN TO DO HOUSEWORK The present unsatisfactory condition of domestic labor in private houses is not confined to any special city or country; it is universal. Each year the difficulty of obtaining women to do housework seems to increase and the demand is so much greater than the supply, that ignorant and inefficient employees are retained simply because it is impossible to find others more competent to replace them. There is hardly a home to-day where, at one time or another, the housewife has not gone through the unenviable experience of being financially able and perfectly willing to pay for the services of some one to help her in her housekeeping duties, and yet found it almost impossible to get a really competent and intelligent employee. As a rule, those who apply for positions in housework are grossly ignorant of the duties they profess to perform, and the well trained, clever, and experienced workers are sadly in the minority. Women and young girls who face the necessity of self support, or who wish to lead a life of independence, no longer choose housework as a means of earning a livelihood. It is evident that there is a reason, and a very potent one, that decides them to accept any kind of employment in preference to the work offered them in a private home. Wages, apparently, have little to do with their decision, nor other considerations which must add very much to their material welfare, such as good food in abundance, and clean, well ventilated sleeping accommodations, for these two important items are generally included at present in the salaries of household employees. Concessions, too, are frequently made, and favors bestowed upon them by many of their employers, yet few young girls, and still fewer women are content to work in private families. It is a deplorable state of affairs, and women seem to be gradually losing their courage to battle with this increasingly difficult question: How to obtain and retain one's domestic employees? The peace of the family and the joy and comfort of one's home should be a great enough incentive to awaken the housewife to the realization that something must be wrong in her present methods. It is in vain that she complains bitterly, on all occasions, of the scarcity of good servants, asserting that it is beyond her comprehension why work in factories, stores, and offices, should be preferred to the work she offers. Is it beyond her comprehension? Or has she never considered in what way the work she offers differs from the work so eagerly accepted? Does she not realize that the present laws of labor adopted in business are very different from those she still enforces in her own home? Why does she not compare housework with all other work in which women are employed, and find out why housework is disdained by nearly all self supporting women? Instead of doing this, she sometimes avoids the trouble of trying to keep house with incompetent employees by living in hotels, or non-housekeeping apartments; but for the housewife who does not possess the financial means to indulge herself thus, or who still prefers home life with all its trials to hotel life, the only alternative is to submit to pay high wages for very poor work or to do a great part of the housework herself. In both cases the result is bad, for in neither does the family enjoy the full benefit of home, nor is the vexatious problem, so often designated as the "servant question," brought any nearer to a solution. The careful study of any form of labor invariably reveals some need of amelioration, but in none is there a more urgent need of reform than in domestic labor in private homes. It is more for the sake of the housewife than for her employee that a reform is to be desired. The latter is solving her problem by finding work outside the home, while the former is still unduly harassed by household troubles. With a few notable exceptions, only those who are unqualified to compete with the business woman are left to help the householder, and the problem confronting her to-day is not so much how to change inefficient to efficient help, but how to obtain any help at all. The spirit of independence has so deeply entered into the lives of women of all classes, that until housework be regulated in such a way as to give to those engaged in it the same rights and privileges as are granted to them in other forms of labor, the best workers will naturally seek employment elsewhere. THE DISADVANTAGES OF HOUSEWORK COMPARED WITH WORK IN FACTORIES, STORES, AND OFFICES Housework, when carefully compared with work performed by women in factories, stores, and offices, shows to a remarkable degree how many old fashioned ways of conducting her household still cling to the modern housewife. The methods that made housekeeping a success in the time of our ancestors are not adapted to the present needs of a society in which women who earn their own living are occupying so much more important positions than formerly. Large stores and factories, requiring the coöperation of many employees, have done more to open new avenues of work for women than could have been dreamed of in former times, when it was the custom for each family to produce at home as much as possible, if not all, that was necessary for its own consumption. Women, as a rule, are not taught self reliance, and many who hesitate to leave their homes to earn a livelihood, find that by doing work in stores, factories, or offices, they are not utterly separated from their families. The work may be harder than they anticipated and the pay small, but there is always the hope of promotion and of a corresponding increase of wages. Business hours are frequently long, but they are limited, and after the day's work is over, the remainder of the twenty-four hours is at the disposal of the employees, who can still enjoy the happiness and freedom associated with the life of their own social circle. Besides they have one day out of seven as a day of rest, and many legal holidays come annually to relieve the overstrain. With housework it is very different. The woman who accepts the position of a household employee in a private home must usually make up her mind to leave her family, to detach herself from all home ties, and to take up her abode in her employer's house. It is only occasionally, about once a week for a few hours at a time, that she is allowed to make her escape. It is a recognized fact that a change of environment has a beneficial effect upon every one, but a domestic employee must forego this daily renewal of thought and atmosphere. Even if she does not know that she needs it in order to keep her mental activities alive, the result is inevitable: to one who does nothing but the same work from early morning until late at night and who never comes in contact with the outside world except four times a month, the work soon sinks to mere drudgery. As to promotion in housework it seems to be almost unknown. Considering the many responsible positions waiting to be filled in private families, nothing could be more desirable than to instil into one's employees the ambition to rise. An employee who has passed through all the different branches of domestic science, from the lowest to the highest in one family, must be far better fitted to occupy the highest position in that family than one who applies for the position with the training and experience gained only in other families where the mode of living may be very different. Since there is no chance of promotion and in consequence of receiving better pay, the domestic employee is often tempted to seek higher wages elsewhere, and thus the desire "to make a change," so disastrous to the peace of mind of the housewife, is engendered in her employees. In domestic labor the hours of work are longer than in any other form of employment, for they are unlimited. Moreover, instead of having one day out of seven as a day of rest, only half a day is granted beginning usually about three o'clock in the afternoon, or even later. And legal holidays bring no relief, for they are practically unknown to the household employee. The only way women engaged in housework in private families can obtain a real holiday is by being suddenly called away "to take care of a sick aunt." There is an old saying containing certain words of wisdom about "all work and no play" that perhaps explains the dullness so often met with in domestic help. The hardest thing to submit to, however, from the point of view of the woman employed in housework, is the lack of freedom outside of working hours. This prevents her from taking part in her former social life. She is not allowed to go out even for an hour or two every day to see her relatives and friends. To ask them to visit her in her employer's kitchen is not a very agreeable alternative either to herself or her employer, and even then she is obliged to be on duty, for she must still wear her uniform and hold herself in readiness to answer the bell until the family for whom she works retires for the night. With such restrictions it is not surprising that the majority of women feel that they are losing "caste" if they accept positions in private families. There are two more causes to which this feeling of the loss of caste may be attributed. One is the habit of calling household employees by their first name or by their surname without the prefix of "Miss"; the other is the custom of making them eat in their employer's kitchen. These are minor details, perhaps, but nevertheless they count for much in the lives of women who earn their own living, and anything, however small, that tends to raise one's self respect, is worthy of consideration. Perhaps, too, while the word "servant" (a noble word enough in its history and its moral connotation) carries with it a stigma, a sense of degradation, among the working women, it should be avoided. Briefly summed up, then, the present disadvantages of housework compared with work in factories, stores, and offices, are as follows: Enforced separation from one's family. Loss of personal freedom. Lack of promotion. Unlimited hours of work. No day of rest each week. Non-observance of legal holidays. Loss of caste. In the present comparison of housework with work in factories, stores, and offices, a recital of the advantages of domestic service, even under the present method of housekeeping, must not be omitted, for such advantages are important, although unfortunately they do not outweigh the present disadvantages. To the woman whose home ties have been disrupted by death or discord, and to the newly arrived immigrant especially, housework is a great boon, inasmuch as besides good wages, all meals and a room to sleep in are given her. Moreover housework is the only form of labor where unskilled work can command high wages. This, however, is much more fortunate for the employee than for her employer. Housework in itself is certainly _not worse_ than any other kind of manual work in which women are engaged; it is often more interesting and less fatiguing. It also helps a woman more than any other occupation to prepare herself for her natural sphere of life:--that of the home maker. A girl who has spent several years in a well ordered family helping to do the housework, is far better fitted to run her own home intelligently and on economic lines than a girl who has spent the same number of years behind a counter, or working in a factory or an office. Again, work in a private house is infinitely more desirable, from the point of view of the influence of one's surroundings, than daily labor in a factory or store. The variety of domestic duties, the freedom of moving about from one room to another, of sitting or standing to do one's work, are much to be preferred to the work that compels the worker to stand or sit in one place all day long. If it be admitted, then, that housework is in itself a desirable and suitable occupation for women who must earn their living by manual labor, it can not be the work itself, but the conditions surrounding it that make it so distasteful to the modern working woman. PART II BUSINESS PRINCIPLES APPLIED TO HOUSEWORK Living outside place of employment. Housework limited to eight hours a day. Housework limited to six days a week. The observance of legal holidays. Extra pay for overtime. LIVING OUTSIDE PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT There are many housewives who are very much opposed to the adoption of a plan enabling household employees to live outside their place of employment. They claim that it is wiser to keep them under constant supervision day and night in order to prevent the introduction of disease or the acquisition of bad habits. There is more risk of disease being introduced into the home, and of bad habits being contracted by allowing one's children to associate with other children in schools, public or private, and by letting them play in the streets and public parks, where they mingle with more or less undesirable companions, than by having the housework performed by employees who come each day to their work and return to their homes at night when their duties are over. Nevertheless no sensible parents would keep their children shut up in the house, only allowing them to go out of doors for a few hours once a week, for fear of contagion or contamination, and yet this is just what the housewife has been doing for years with her household employees under the firm impression that she was protecting them as well as herself. Present statistics, however, upon the morality and immorality of women who belong to what is at present termed the "servant class," prove only too clearly that the "protection" provided by the employer's home does not protect. The shelter thus given serves too often to encourage a life of deception, especially as in reality the housewife knows but little of what takes place "below stairs." The "servants' quarters" are, as a rule, far enough away from the other rooms of the house for much to transpire there without the knowledge of the "mistress of the house," but who has not heard her complain of the misconduct of her employees? Startling discoveries have been made at the most unexpected times and from the most unexpected quarters. One lady found her maid was in the habit of going out at night after the family had retired, and leaving the front door unlocked in order to regain admittance in the early morning without arousing the family. Another housewife discovered one day that her cook's husband, whose existence until then was unknown, had been coming for several months to her house for his dinner. Every householder finds that in the late evening her "servants" entertain their numerous "cousins" and friends at her expense. Moreover, they do not hesitate to use the best china, glass, and silver for special parties and draw upon the household supplies for the choicest meats and wines. And because they cannot go out in the day time, it is not unusual to find some friend or relative comes to spend the entire day with them, and in consequence the housewife not only feeds her "help" but a string of hangers-on as well. Why should she be surprised that she does not get an adequate return for the amount of money she spends? And these things take place, not only during the temporary absence of the employer, but even while she is sitting peacefully in the library and listening to a parlor lecture on the relations of capital and labor. Women say tearfully or bravely on such occasions: "What can be done to make servants better? They are getting worse every day." And the housewife (one might almost call her by Samuel Pepys's pleasing phrase, "the poor wretch") then pours out to any sympathetic ear endless recitals of aggravating, worrying, nerve-racking experiences. Instead of putting an end to such a regrettable state of affairs that would never be tolerated by any business employer, she seems content to bewail her fate and clings still more steadfastly to obsolete methods. Why does she not adopt the methods of the business man in dealing with his employees? The advisability of having household employees live outside their place of employment is so apparent that it ought to appeal to every one. There would be no longer the necessity of putting aside and of furnishing certain rooms of the house for their accommodation: a practice which in the majority of families is quite a serious inconvenience and always an expense. In small homes where only one maid is kept, it may not make much difference to give up one room to her, but where several employees are needed, it means very often that many rooms must be used as sleeping apartments for them, frequently too a sitting room or a special dining room is given them. This is not all, for the rooms must be furnished and kept clean and warm, and supplied with an unlimited amount of gas and electricity. In many families the boarding and lodging of household employees cause as much anxiety and expense to the housewife as to provide for her own family. And why does she do it? Why does she consent to take upon herself so much extra trouble for nothing? For, although she offers good food and a bed besides excellent wages to all who work for her, she is the most poorly served of all employers to-day. In the great feudal castles of the Middle Ages it was not deemed safe for women to venture forth alone, even in the daytime, and so those engaged in housework were naturally compelled to live under their Master's roof, eating at his table and sitting "below the salt." But the Master and the Serf of feudal times disappeared long ago, only the Mistress and her "servants" remain. To-day, however, "servants" no longer sit at their employer's table; they remain in the kitchen, where as a rule they are given to eat what is left from the family meals. Some housewives, from motives of kindness and consideration for the welfare of those in their employ, have special meals prepared for them and served in a dining-room of their own at hours which do not conflict with the meals of the family. But this does not always meet with gratitude or even due appreciation; the disdainful way in which Bridget often complains of the food too generously provided for her is well known. A chambermaid came one day to her employer and said she did not wish to complain but thought it better to say frankly that she was not satisfied with what she was getting to eat in her house: she wanted to have roast beef for dinner more often, at least three or four times a week, for she did not care to eat mutton, nor steak, and never ate pork, nor could she, to quote her own words "fill up on bread and vegetables as the other girls did in the kitchen." Then, and only then, did her employer wake up with a start to the realization of the true position every housewife occupies in the eyes of her household employees. They evidently regard her in the light of a caterer; she does the marketing not only for her family but for them too. She pays a cook high wages, not only to cook meals for herself and family, but for her employees also. For the first time in her life, this housewife asked herself the following questions: Why should she allow her household employees to live in her house? Why should she consent to board them at her expense? Why should she continue to place at their disposal a bedroom each, a private bathroom, a sitting room or a dining room? Why should she allow them to make use of her kitchen and laundry to do their own personal washing, even providing them with soap and starch, irons and an ironing board, fuel and gas? Why should she do all this for them when no business employer, man or woman, ever does it? Was it simply because her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother had been in the habit of doing it? This awakening was the beginning of the end of all the trouble and expense which she had endured for so many years in connection with the boarding and lodging of her "servants." To-day she has no "servants"; she has household employees who come to her house each day, just as other employees go each day to their place of employment. They take no meals in her house, and her housekeeping expenses have diminished as much as her own comfort has increased. Her employees are better and more efficient than any she ever had under the old régime, and nothing could persuade her to return to her former methods of housekeeping. The cost of providing meals for domestic employees varies according to the mode of living of each individual family, and of late it has been the subject of much discussion. Some important details, however, seem to be generally overlooked, for the cost of the food is the only thing usually considered by the average housewife. To this first expense must be added the cost of pots and pans for cooking purposes; even under careful management, kitchen utensils are bound to wear out and must be replaced. Then there is the cost of the extra fuel or gas or electricity required to cook the food, nor must one forget to count the extra work of the cook to prepare the meals, and of the kitchen maid or of some other maid to wash up the dishes after each meal served to employees. There is also the expense of buying kitchen plates and dishes, glasses, cups and saucers, knives and forks, etc. Every housewife is in the habit of providing kitchenware for the use of her employees. The total sum of all these items would astonish those who think that the actual expense of giving meals to household employees is not a very great one and is limited to the cost of the food they eat; even this last expense is considerably augmented by the careless and wasteful way in which provisions are generally handled by those who do not have to pay for them. When ways and means are discussed among housewives to reduce the present "high cost of living," it would be well to advise all women to try the experiment of having their household employees live outside their place of employment. The result from an economic point of view alone is amazing, and the relief it brings the housewife who is no longer obliged to provide food and sleeping accommodations for her employees is so great that one wonders why she has been willing to burden herself with these responsibilities for so many years. There was once a time when women did not go out alone to eat in a restaurant, but to-day one sees about as many women as men eating their midday meal in public. If women engaged in general business prove themselves thus capable of self care, there seems to be no reason why household employees, who often receive higher wages than shop girls and stenographers, should not be able to do the same. They would enjoy their meals more outside, albeit the food given them in their employer's house is undoubtedly of a better quality; the change of surroundings and the opportunity of meeting friends, of leaving their work behind them, would compensate them. In any event, it is clearly proved by the scarcity of women applying for positions in private houses that these two advantages only to be obtained in domestic labor--board and lodging--do not attract the working woman of the present day. The joy of eating the bread of independence is an old and deeply rooted feeling. There is an ancient fable of Æsop about the Dog and the Wolf which portrays this sentiment in a very quaint and delightful manner. (Sir Roger l'Estrange's translation.) THE DOG AND THE WOLF There was a Hagged Carrion of a _Wolf_, and a Jolly Sort of a Gentile _Dog_, with Good Flesh upon's Back, that fell into Company together upon the King's High-Way. The _Wolf_ was wonderfully pleas'd with his Companion, and as Inquisitive to Learn how be brought himself to That Blessed State of Body. Why, says the _Dog_, I keep my Master's House from Thieves, and I have very Good Meat, Drink, and Lodging for my pains. Now if you'll go along with Me, and do as I do, you may fare as I fare. The _Wolf_ Struck up the Bargain, and so away they Trotted together: But as they were Jogging on, the _Wolf_ spy'd a Bare Place about the _Dog's_ Neck where the Hair was worn off. Brother (says he) how comes this I prethee? Oh, That's Nothing, says the _Dog_, but the Fretting of my _Collar_ a little. Nay, says T'other, if there be a _Collar_ in the Case, I know Better Things than to sell my Liberty for a Crust. THE MORAL ...'Tis a Comfort to have Good Meat and Drink at Command, and Warm Lodging: But He that sells his Freedom for the Cramming of his Belly, has but a Hard Bargain of it. In modern business enterprises, there is hardly a single instance of an employer who is willing to board his employees, nor would he consider for a moment the proposition of allowing them to remain at their place of employment all night and of providing sleeping accommodations for them. Neither in consideration of benefiting them, nor with the view of benefiting himself by thus making sure of having them on hand for work early the next morning, would he ever consent to such an arrangement. When he needs some one to watch over his interests in the night time, he engages a night watchman, a very much more economical plan than to provide lodging for all his employees. Why should the housewife be the only employer to assume the burden of a double responsibility toward her employees? Perhaps in the country, where it might be impossible for them to live outside her home, such a necessity might arise, but in cities and suburban towns, there is absolutely no valid reason why household employees should sleep, eat, and live under their employer's roof. It is a custom only, and truly a custom that would be "more honored in the breach than in the observance." HOUSEWORK LIMITED TO EIGHT HOURS A DAY In the home woman's work is said to be never ended. If this be true, it is the fault of the woman who plans the work, for in all the positions of life, work can be carried on indefinitely if badly planned. It is the essential thesis of this little volume that the domestic labor of women should be limited to a fixed number of hours per day in private houses. It is not unusual at the present day for a woman to work twelve, or fourteen hours a day, or even longer, when she earns her living as a household employee. A man's mental and physical forces begin to wane at the end of eight, nine, or ten hours of constant application to the same work, and a woman's strength is not greater than a man's. The truth of the proposition, abstractly considered, has been long acknowledged and nowadays requires no argument. When a woman accepts a position in business, she is told exactly how many hours a day she must work, but when a woman is engaged to fill a domestic position in a family, the number of hours she is expected to give her employer is never specified. She is simply told that she must be on duty early in the morning before the family arises, and that she may consider herself off duty as soon as the family for whom she is working has withdrawn for the night. Is it surprising that under such conditions working women are not very enthusiastic over the domestic proposition to-day? A household employee ought to have her hours of work as clearly defined as if she were a business employee, and there is no reason why the eight-hour labor law could not be applied as successfully to housework as to any other enterprise. Work in business is generally divided into two periods. Yet this division can not always be effected, and in railroad and steamship positions, in post offices, upon trolley lines, in hotels, in hospitals, and in other cases too numerous to mention, where work must follow a continuous round, the working hours are divided into more than two periods, according to the nature of the work and the interests of the employer, not however exceeding a fixed number of hours per day or per week. It would be far better for the housewife as well as for her employees, if the housework were limited in a similar way. But with the introduction of the eight-hour law in the home, certain new conditions would have to be rigidly enforced in order to ensure success. Firstly, the employee should be made to understand that during the eight hours of work agreed upon, she must be engaged in actual work for her employer. Secondly, when an employee is off duty, she should not be allowed to remain with or to talk to the other employee or employees who are still on duty. When her work is finished, she ought to leave her employer's house. The non-observance of either of these two points produces a demoralizing effect. Thirdly, a general knowledge of cooking, and serving meals, of cleaning and taking proper care of the rooms of a house, of attending correctly to the telephone and the door bell, of sewing, of washing and ironing, and of taking care of children, should be insisted upon from all household employees. There are many housewives who will state that this last condition is impossible, that it is asking too much from one employee; and since it is hard to-day to find a good cook, it will be still harder to find one who understands other household work as well. But those who jump to these conclusions have never tried the experiment. It is not only possible but practicable. Judging from the ordinary intelligence displayed by the average cook and housemaid in the majority of private homes to-day, it ought not to seem incredible that the duties of both could be easily mastered by young women of ordinary ability. A woman who knows how to prepare and cook a meal, may easily learn the correct way of serving it, and the possession of this knowledge ought not to prevent her from being capable of sweeping a room, or making a bed, or taking care of children. It is above all in families where only a few employees are kept, that the housewife will quickly realize how much it is to her immediate advantage to employ women who know how to do all kinds of housework, instead of having those who make a specialty of one particular branch. The specialization of work in private houses has been carried to such an extreme that it has become one of the greatest drawbacks to successful housekeeping in small families. Under this system of specialization, a household employee is not capable in emergency of taking up satisfactorily the work of another. Even if she be able to do it, she often professes ignorance for fear it may prolong her own hours of labor, or because, as she sometimes frankly admits, she does not consider it "her place." The chambermaid does not know how to cook, the cook does not know how to do the chamberwork, the waitress, in her turn, can do neither cooking nor chamberwork, and the annoyance to the whole family caused by the temporary absence of one of its regular employees is enough to spoil for the time being all the traditional comforts of home. In hotels and public institutions, and in large private establishments, where the work demands a numerous staff of employees, the specialization of the work is the only means for its successful accomplishment, but in the average home requiring from one to four or five employees no system could be worse from an economic point of view, nor less conducive to the comfort of the family. Specialization produces another bad effect, for it prevents the existence of the feeling of equality among employees in the same house. Each "specialist" speaks rather disparagingly of the other's work, regardless of the relative position her own special "art" may occupy to the unprejudiced mind. An amusing instance of this was recently shown at a country place near New York, when "the lady of the manor" asked a friend to send some one down from the city to help with the housework during the temporary absence of her maid. The friend could not find any one at the domestic employment agencies willing to go, but at last through the Charity Organization Society, she heard of a woman temporarily out of employment, who had been frequently employed as scrubwoman on the vacation piers. When the work was offered her, she accepted it immediately. Arriving at her new employer's house, she began at once to scrub the floors, and when the work was completed, she sat on a chair and took no further notice of anything. The next day, having no more floors to scrub, the same general lack of interest was manifested. She was asked to wash the dishes after dinner. She replied that she was not used to "dishwashing," and did not know how to do it. She was persuaded, however, to make the attempt, but performed her new task very reluctantly. The following morning she said she felt "lonely" and would return at once to the city. As the train came in sight to bear her back to her accustomed surroundings, she gave a snort of relief, and exclaimed: "I'm a scrubwoman, I am. I ain't going to do no fancy dishwashing, no, not for no one; I'm a scrubwoman." And she clambered up into the train with the alacrity of a woman whose dignity had received a hard blow. The above illustration is typical of the spirit subjected to the system of specialization, and shows how unwise it is to encourage it in the home where all branches of housework could be easily made interchangeable. Under the new system of limiting housework to eight hours a day, the housewife must insist that all applicants be willing and able to perform any part of the housework she may assign, and their duties ought not to be specified otherwise than by the term HOUSEWORK. The employee who refuses to wait on the table during the absence of the waitress, or to cook, or to do the laundry work, or to answer the telephone, or to carry packages from her employer's automobile to the library, because she does not consider it "her place to do these things," should be instantly discharged. These very important conditions being understood and conceded, the choice and arrangement of the eight hours' work must necessarily lie with each individual housewife. Each family is different and has different claims upon its time. The "rush hours" of social life are sometimes in the evening, and sometimes in the afternoon, and again in some families, especially where there are small children, the breakfast hour seems the most complicated of the day. All these details have to be carefully thought of when making an eight hour schedule. At the end of this book a set of schedules is placed. Any intelligent housewife can understand them, imitate them, and in many instances improve them. They are merely given as elementary examples. According to the number of employees she engages, the housewife will have eight, sixteen, or twenty-four hours of work to distribute among them, and to meet her peculiar needs she will find it necessary at the outset to devote some hours to a satisfactory scheme. After testing several, she will probably have to begin all over again before she finally succeeds in evolving one that is available. But the problem is interesting in itself, and always admits of a solution. It may not be amiss to make this final suggestion for the woman who is willing to give the new plan a fair trial: she should follow the example of the business man when he is in need of new employees, and advertise for help, stating hours of work, and requesting that all applications be made by letter. This disposes rapidly of the illiterate, and in the majority of cases, a woman who writes a good, legible, and accurate hand, is more apt to be efficient in her work than one who sends in a dirty, careless, ill-expressed and badly spelled application. Through advertising one comes into touch with many women it would be impossible to reach otherwise. It is also the most advantageous way of bringing the employer and employee together, inasmuch as it dispenses entirely with the services of a third person, who, naturally can not be expected to offer gratuitous service. The plan of limiting housework to eight hours a day is not an idle theory; it has been in successful operation for several years. Yet it is not easy to change the habit of years. There are many housewives who would loudly declare it impossible to conform to such business rules in the household; and many of the older generation of cooks and housemaids would agree. But when such a plan has been generally adopted, the domestic labor problem will be solved, and it does not appear that in the present state of social organization, it can be solved in any other way. HOUSEWORK LIMITED TO SIX DAYS A WEEK Under the present system of housekeeping, there is not one day out of the three hundred and sixty-five that a domestic employee has the right to claim as a day of rest, not even a legal holiday. It is remarkable that this fact, showing so forcibly one of the greatest disadvantages connected with housework, should attract so little attention. No one seems to care about the fate of the "servant girl," as she is so often disdainfully called. During six days of the week she works on the average fourteen hours a day, but no one stops to notice that she is tired. On the seventh day, instead of resting as every other employee has the right to do, her work is merely reduced to nine, eight, or perhaps seven hours; and yet she needs a day of rest as much as every other woman who earns her bread. The rights of the domestic employee are ignored on all sides apparently. In public demonstrations of dissatisfaction between employers and employees the most oppressed class of the working people--the women who do housework--has never yet been represented. This is probably due to two causes: the first is because women dissatisfied with housework are rapidly finding positions in business where they enjoy rights and privileges denied them in domestic labor; and the second is because the great majority of women engaged in housework are foreign-born. These women learn quickly to understand and speak English, but they do not often read and write it, and as they are kept in close confinement in their employer's house, they have rarely the opportunity of hearing about the emancipation of the modern working woman. Most of them are of a very humble origin, and being debarred from business positions on account of their ignorance and inexperience, they are thankful to earn money in any kind of employment regardless of the length of working hours. Their children, however, who are American born and enjoy better educational advantages, do not follow in their footsteps when the time comes for them to earn their living. They become stenographers, typewriters, dressmakers, milliners, shirt waist makers, cash-girls, saleswomen, etc.; in fact any occupation where work is limited to a fixed number of hours a day and confined to six days a week, is considered more desirable than housework. The result is that the housewife is compelled to take for her employees only those who are rejected by every other employer; the capable, independent, intelligent American woman is hardly ever seen in domestic service. In Washington, D.C., a law (the La Follette Eight Hour Law for Women in the District of Columbia) was recently passed limiting to eight hours a day and six days a week practically all work in which women are industrially employed; "hotel servants" are included under the provisions of this law, but "domestic servants in private homes" are expressly excluded. If this new law be considered a just and humane measure for women who are business employees, and if business houses be compelled to observe it, one naturally wonders why it should not prove to be an equally just and humane law for women who work in private families, and why should not the home be compelled to observe it too? Instead of being a barrier to progress, the home ought to coöperate with the state in the enforcement of laws for the amelioration of the condition of working women. The home, being presided over by a woman, presumably of some education and intelligence, should be a most fitting place in which to apply a law designed to protect women against excessive hours of labor. Why should housework in private homes be an exception to all other work? Is it because some housewives say, in self justification and frequently without an accurate knowledge of what it is to do housework week after week without one day's release, that housework is easier than other work? Is it easier? Is it not sometimes harder? However, it is not a question of housework being harder or easier than other work, but of the desirability of having it limited to eight hours a day and six days a week. Why should the housewife be allowed to remain in such a state of apathy in regard to the physical welfare of her household employees? "Six days shalt thou labor" has all the sanction of scripture, of morals, and of common experience. It is only fair that women who work in private families should have one day out of seven as a day of rest, even as their more fortunate sisters in the business world. If by adopting such a law in the home the housewife found that her work was performed far more efficiently and willingly than at present, would it not be as much to her advantage as to the advantage of those she employs to limit the hours of household labor to six days a week? Many housewives may object to this proposition inasmuch as the work in a home can not be suspended even for a day. But when two or more employees work in a private home, it is very easy to plan the housework so that each employee may have a different day of the week as a "day of rest," without the comfort of the family being disturbed by the temporary absence of one of the employees. It is only in families where one employee is kept that it may make a very serious difference to the housewife when her "maid-of-all-work" is away for one entire day each week. Nevertheless the comfort of an employer ought not to outweigh justice to an employee. There are many ways of regulating the housework, as will be seen in the schedules at the end of this book, in order to give one day of freedom each week to household employees without causing much inconvenience to the housewife. By continuing to refuse this privilege to women employed in domestic labor, housekeeping is becoming more and more complicated. Already it is such a common occurrence in some cities and in many parts of the country, not to find any woman willing to do housework, that many housewives are beginning to think that their future comfort in all household matters will depend entirely upon new labor saving devices and upon the help of the community rather than upon the increased knowledge and skill of domestic employees. There exists a prevailing impression, too, that housework has lost its dignity, and that at this period of the world's social history, it is impossible to restore it for women have stepped above it. But this is not true. The fact is that housework has remained stationary while other work has gained in freedom and dignity. Without noisy protestations, or indignant speeches delivered in public, women have slowly and silently, one by one, deserted housework as a career on account of the narrowing, servile, and unjust conditions inseparable from it at the present day. Let these conditions be removed and new regulations based upon modern business principles take their place, and then it will be seen that housework has never lost its dignity, and the very women who abandoned it will be the first to choose it again as a means of earning their livelihood. As a proof of this, the following experience may be cited of a New Work woman who wished to obtain a domestic employee for general housework. She went to several employment agencies and at the end of a week she had seen four applicants; three were foreigners and spoke English so brokenly that they could never have been left in charge of a telephone. Not one of the four was worth considering after investigating their references, and these were the only women she could find willing to do general housework. Upon the advice of a friend, the perplexed housewife advertised in one of the daily newspapers, but only a few women applied for the position and these were far from being satisfactory. She then inserted another advertisement expressed in the following words: "Wanted: a young woman to help with housework, eight hours a day, six days a week, sleep home. Apply by letter only." This last clause was added to prevent any one from applying for the position who could not write English, as it was absolutely necessary that the person engaged to do the housework should be capable of attending correctly to the telephone. On the same day the advertisement appeared, eighty-five applications by letter were received, and twenty more came the following day. All who wrote expressed their willingness to fill the position of a domestic employee and to do anything in the way of housework under the new conditions specified in the advertisement. Only one stated she would do no washing. Many who replied to this advertisement had occupied positions, which according to the present standard, were far superior to housework; many, too, were married women, experienced in all household work, and most anxious to accept a position in a private family, a position that did not break up their own home life. The housewife was bewildered by the unexpected result of her advertisement: the tables were turned at last. Instead of being one of many looking in vain for a good domestic employee, she found that she had now the advantage of being able to choose from more than a hundred applicants one who would best suit her own peculiar needs. The same advertisement has been inserted at different times and has always brought the same remarkable result: from one hundred to one hundred and sixty answers each time. It is true that all who present themselves may not be efficient, but efficiency speedily comes to the front when upon it alone depends a desirable position. Two very important facts came to light through the help of this advertisement; one was to find so many women eager to do housework when it was limited to eight hours a day and six days a week, and the other was to hear that they were willing to board and lodge themselves, as well as work, for the same wages that "servants" are accustomed to receive, although to the latter the housewife invariably gives gratis all food and sleeping accommodations. These two facts alone prove beyond a doubt that by applying business principles to housework all objections to it as a means of earning a livelihood are removed. It is quite likely that for a time the old fashioned "mistress," and the old fashioned "servant" will continue to cling to past customs; but once it is proved that domestic labor limited to eight hours a day and six days a week, brings a better, more intelligent, more efficient class of employees to the home, the most obdurate employer will change her mind. No legislation is needed. If all who are trying to solve the "servant question" will begin to practice the new plan in their own homes, the future will take care of itself and the old ways will die a natural death. THE OBSERVANCE OF LEGAL HOLIDAYS IN THE HOME The pleasure brought by the advent of a holiday into the lives of the working people can hardly be overestimated, and it is doubtful if holidays would ever have become legalized had they not proved of distinct value to the masses. To have one day each week free from the steady grind of one's dally work is a great relief, but to have a holiday is something still better, for it usually means a day set apart for general rejoicing. Why do all housewives persistently disregard the right of the household employee to have legal holidays? The reason generally brought forward is that many families need their employees more on a holiday than on any other day. In many cases this is quite true on account of family reunions or the entertaining of friends, but very often the housewife could easily dispense with the services of her employees on a holiday. She does not do it, however, or only occasionally, because it is not the custom to grant holidays to women who work in private homes. If it be impossible, on account of the exigencies of home life, to grant all legal holidays to household employees, there are many different ways of planning the housework so that other days may be given instead. Sometimes the day before or the day after a holiday will give as much pleasure as the day itself. A woman who is at the head of a home has many opportunities of coming into close contact with her employees; she can easily ascertain their wishes in this respect and act accordingly. It is more the fact of being entitled to a holiday than to have it on a certain day that ought to be emphasized. Domestic employees would be benefited by having these extra days of liberty, just as much as all other employees. A trial is all that is necessary to show how much better a household employee will work after having a holiday. She returns to her duties with renewed strength and the knowledge that she is no longer forced to play the rôle of Cinderella gives her a fresh interest in life. Unfortunately the housewife has been accustomed for so many years to have her "servants" work for her all day long on every day of the week, with only a few hours off duty "on every other Sunday and on every other Thursday," that she is rather inclined to resent such an innovation as the observance of legal holidays in domestic labor. She fails to perceive that by her present attitude she shows herself in a very unfavorable light as an employer, for the lack of holidays is decidedly one of the reasons for which housework is shunned to-day. Business men have evolved a satisfactory and workable plan by which their employees are neither overworked nor deprived of all legal holidays, although frequently the work they are engaged in can not be suspended day or night even for an hour. It remains for women of the leisure class, and to this class belong all those who can afford to pay to have their housework done for them, to adopt a similar plan in their homes. EXTRA PAY FOR OVERTIME When the plan for limiting housework to eight hours a day is discussed for the first time, the following question invariably arises: What is to be done when anything unusual happens to break the routine of the regular work, as for instance, when sickness occurs, when friends arrive unexpectedly, when a dinner party is given? Sickness, of course, is unavoidable, but as a rule a trained nurse or an extra household assistant is called in to help. Many times, however, this is not absolutely necessary, or perhaps the family can not afford to have outside help, and the extra work caused by sickness usually falls upon the domestic employee whose hours of labor are more or less prolonged in consequence. What ought to be done in such an event? There is but one answer: Work that can not be accomplished within the regular working hours already agreed upon should be paid for as "overtime." When it is a question of work being prolonged beyond the eight hours a day by the entertaining of friends, one can only say that this ought not to happen if the housewife planned her working schedule carefully. She alone is responsible for her social engagements; she alone can make a schedule that will enable her to have her friends come to luncheon or dinner without prolonging the day's work beyond the hours agreed upon between herself and her employees. When friends arrive unexpectedly, however, or when a dinner party or a big social function takes place in the home, an eight hour schedule may be the cause of great inconvenience, unless a previous agreement has been made to meet just such occasions. It is certain that some compensation is due to all domestic employees for the extra long hours of work caused by unusual events in the home life of their employers, and many ways have been devised already to remunerate them. In modern social life a custom of long standing still exists which makes it almost compulsory for this remuneration to come out of the pocket, not of the hostess, but of her guests. The unfortunate custom of giving "tips" is not generally criticised very openly, but when viewed in the light of reason and justice, it seems to be a very poor way of trying to remove one of the present hardships connected with domestic labor. Why should the housewife depend upon the generosity of her guests to help her pay her household employees? She never demurs at the extra expense entailed in giving luncheons and dinners in her friends' honor, nor in taking them to places of interest and amusement. Why then should she object to giving a little more money to her household employees upon whose work the success of her hospitality so largely depends? There are many women who entertain extensively, but they never recompense a household employee for any extra work that may be demanded from her on that account. They consider themselves fully justified in exacting extra long hours of work because of the high wages they pay, especially as it frequently happens that while the work is more on some days, it is less on others, and they think in consequence that their employees have no cause for complaint. It is a mistake, however, to think that an employee who is obliged to be on duty and has little or nothing to do on one day, is really compensated for the extra hours of work she has been compelled to give on other days. A saleswoman who on certain days has no customers or only a few, is just as much "on duty" as if her work filled all her time, and it is the same with a domestic employee. Indeed it is generally conceded to be more irksome to remain idle at one's post than to be actively engaged in work. But on the other hand, there are many housewives who feel that they ought to give their employees more pay for extra work especially when it is connected with the entertaining of friends, and the following ways of rewarding them have been tried with more or less success. One plan that gained favor with several families was to give ten cents to the cook and ten cents to the waitress every time a guest was invited to a meal: ten cents for each guest. At the end of a month the ten cent pieces had amounted to quite a sum of money. Another plan that was tried in a small family was to give fifty cents to the cook and fifty cents to each of the two waitresses for every dinner party that took place, regardless of the number of guests. Still another plan was to give at the end of the month, a two dollar, five dollar, or ten dollar bill to an employee who had given many extra hours of satisfactory work to her employer. All these plans are good in a certain sense, inasmuch as they show that women are awakening to the realization that some compensation is due to household employees for the extra long hours of work frequently unavoidable in family life. But unfortunately these plans lack stability, for they depend altogether upon the generosity and kindness of different employers, instead of upon a just and firmly established business principle. And now comes the question: What method of payment for overtime will produce a permanently satisfactory result? The only one that appears just and is applicable to all cases is to pay each employee one and a half times as much per hour for extra work as for regular work. In this way each employee is paid for overtime in just proportion to the value of her regular services. For instance, when a household employee receives $20, $30, or $40 per month, that is to say $5, $7.50, or $10 per week, for working eight hours a day and six days a week, she is receiving approximately 10, 15, or 20 cents per hour for her regular work. By giving her one and one half times as much for extra work, she ought to receive 15, 22-1/2, or 30 cents per hour for every hour she works for her employer after the completion of her regular eight hours' work. This plan has never failed to bring satisfaction, and it has the advantage of placing the employer and the employee on an equally delightful footing of independence. The performance of extra work is no longer regarded as a matter of obligation on one side, and of concession on the other, but as a purely business transaction. Some housewives fear that the regular work would be intentionally prolonged beyond all measure if it became an established rule to pay extra for work performed overtime. This could be easily checked, however, by paying extra only for work that was necessitated by unusual events in the family life. In families where only one employee is kept, naturally the occasions for asking her to work overtime arise more frequently than in families where there are two or more employees, especially if there be small children in the family. Yet these occasions need not come very often, if the housewife bears in mind that even with only one employee, she has eight hours every day at her own disposal; she ought to plan her outside engagements accordingly. Her liberty from household cares during these eight hours can only be gained though by having efficient and trustworthy assistants in her home, and she can never obtain these unless she abandons her old fashioned methods of housekeeping. She must grant to household employees the same rights and privileges given to business employees; she must apply business principles to housework. A great power lies in the hands of the modern housewife, a power as yet only suspected by a few, which, if properly wielded, can raise housework from its present undignified position to the place it ought to occupy, and that is in the foremost rank of manual labor for women. PART III EIGHT HOUR SCHEDULES IN THE HOME Eight hour schedules for one employee. Eight hour schedules for two employees. Eight hour schedules for three employees. EIGHT HOUR SCHEDULES FOR ONE EMPLOYEE The schedules given in the following pages have been in actual practice for a sufficient length of time to prove that they can be relied on to produce satisfactory results, although no doubt many housewives will find that some of them must be modified to meet special requirements in their homes. Two very important points must always be borne in mind in order to obtain the greatest advantage from an eight hour schedule, especially in families where only one employee is engaged to do the housework. The first point is this: the housewife ought only to make her working schedule _after_ she has carefully studied her own comfort and convenience in regard to the hours she considers the most important of the day for her to have help in her housework. The second point is for the housewife to reserve for herself the entire freedom of the eight hours during which her employee is on duty, for then she can place, or she ought to be able to, the full responsibility of the housekeeping upon her employee. By adhering strictly to these two points, the housewife will soon perceive that she can dispense with the services of her employee for the remaining hours of the day without much inconvenience to herself or her family. She may even find it more pleasant than otherwise to be relieved from the sight and sound of household work, for at least a few hours a day, when she is in her own home. Possibly the housewife who has but one employee will not accept with alacrity the proposition of allowing her to be off duty for an entire day once a week, for unless she be willing to do the necessary work herself on that day, she must engage a special person to take the place of her regular employee. But many families engage a woman to come once a week to help with the washing and house-cleaning, especially when they have only one household employee. If this woman came on the day the regular employee was away, she could relieve the housewife of all the housework that could not be postponed until the next day. SCHEDULE NO. I When only one employee is engaged in a private home, her services are needed more at meal time than at any other time of the day, especially if small children are in the family. As the hours for the three principal meals are about the same everywhere, the following schedule is a very useful one. From 7 A.M. to 10 A.M. 3 hours From 12 M. to 3 P.M. 3 hours From 6 P.M. to 8 P.M. 2 hours ------- 8 hours In the morning from seven to ten o'clock, the employee had ample time to prepare and serve breakfast and wash up the dishes afterwards, and do the chamberwork. The three hours from noon until three o'clock were filled with duties that varied considerably each day. Luncheon was served at one o'clock; it was but a light meal easy to cook and easy to serve, therefore the time from two to three o'clock was usually devoted to ironing, or mending, or cleaning silver, or polishing brasses, or preparing some of the dishes in advance either for dinner that evening or for luncheon the next day. Two hours were sufficient to cook and serve dinner and wash up the dishes afterwards. A woman came once a week, on the day the employee was off duty, to do the family washing and assist with the general housework. She also did some of the ironing; the rest of the ironing was done the next day by the regular employee. This schedule has been tested, not merely once for a few months, but several times, and not with the same employee, but with different employees, and it has always been most satisfactory. It may seem doubtful to those who have never had their housework done on schedule time that the work can be completed in the time stated, but the greatest incentive that an employee can have to work quickly and well, is to know that her position is as good as any she can find elsewhere, and that when her work is over she is free to do exactly as she pleases with the remainder of her time. SCHEDULE NO. II The following schedule is very different from the preceding one, inasmuch as the housewife did not consider it necessary for her employee to be on duty in the middle of the day. There were no children in this family and as the housewife was alone in the day time, she very frequently went out for luncheon. She concluded therefore that it was the best time of the day for her to dispense with the services of her employee, whose working hours were arranged thus: From 7:30 A.M. to 11:30 A.M. 4 hours From 4:30 P.M. to 8:30 P.M. 4 hours ------- 8 hours By half past eleven in the morning, all the usual housework was finished, and the employee went home; she returned at half past four in the afternoon, in time to attend to five o'clock tea and dinner. Once a week, on alternate Saturdays and Sundays, she had a "day of rest." On these days the housewife got breakfast ready herself, after which she did as much or as little of the regular work as she chose. It is not difficult to reduce housework to a minimum on special occasions. The family, which was a small one, consisting of three adults, usually went out to dinner on these alternate Saturdays and Sundays. SCHEDULE NO. III In this schedule, the employee's work is divided into two periods, with one hour for rest between. The family consisted of a man and his wife, who lived in an apartment. The hours of work were as follows: From 12 M. to 3 P.M. 3 hours From 4 P.M. to 9 P.M. 5 hours ------- 8 hours The housewife was very fond of entertaining, and she chose an employee who was an excellent cook and a very good waitress. In consequence she was able to place the entire responsibility of luncheons and dinners on her, and on days when no guests were present all the house-cleaning was done. As the employee did not report on duty before noon, the housewife was obliged to get breakfast herself. However this was a very simple matter, for her employee always set the table for breakfast the night before. The next morning it was very easy for the housewife, with the aid of an electric heater on the breakfast table, to heat the cereal, boil the water for the coffee, and broil the bacon or scramble the eggs, or indeed to prepare any of the usual breakfast dishes. The employee did all the washing, ironing and mending each week, and although she came to her work only at noon, she accomplished as much work during her eight hours as if she began earlier in the day. SCHEDULE NO. IV Many schedules were tried before a really satisfactory one was finally chosen for a family of six: mother, father, four small children. The eldest child was seven years old, and there was only one household employee to help with the work. They lived in the country, and breakfast had to be served promptly at 7:30 A.M., on account of taking the early morning train to town. Naturally, with only one employee, the housewife was compelled to do some of the housework herself, and until the following schedule was adopted, she had been in the habit of rising early, dressing the children, and getting breakfast ready herself. Her employee arrived later in the day and remained until after dinner at night. The comfort and general welfare of the mother were increased to such a remarkable degree by the new schedule, however, that it is well worth special attention. The hours were as follows: From 6:30 A.M. to 10:30 A.M. 4 hours From 11:30 A.M. to 3:30 P.M. 4 hours ------- 8 hours Immediately upon arriving at the house, the employee went to the children and took complete charge of all of them. The two oldest dressed themselves, but of course the other two required help. After dressing them, she prepared breakfast. The cereal was always cooked the day before, and as a gas stove was used for cooking purposes, it was not hard to have breakfast ready promptly every morning at 7:30. Then the employee, having had her own breakfast before leaving her home, worked steadily until 10:30 A.M. During this time, the only work the mother felt she ought to do was to go out with her two youngest children; the other two went to school. She was always home again by 10:30, when her employee stopped working. The employee lived too far away to go home for lunch, and as there was no place in the neighborhood where she could go for lunch, she always brought it with her and ate it in her employer's house. During the hour she was off duty, the mother attended to some household duties herself, and she also bathed the two children, and put them to bed for their morning nap. At 11:30, her employee reappeared on duty, and took full charge of the house and children until 3:30 P.M.; her work for the day was then over and she went home. This schedule makes the mother stay home after half past three, but by that time all the real housework had been done by her employee. To give the children their supper and to put them to bed leisurely, was much easier work than to rise early and dress them hurriedly in the morning, and to get breakfast ready for the entire family. It was not much trouble to get dinner herself in the evening for her husband and herself only. The house was quiet, the children asleep, and there was no necessity of hurrying as in the morning. When she wished to give a dinner party, or to receive her friends, or to go to any entertainment in the afternoon after 3:30, she asked her employee to give her extra hours of work for which she paid extra. Once a week her employee had a "day of rest," and on this day another woman was engaged to take her place. This schedule enabled the mother to have many hours each day absolutely free from the children and household cares. EIGHT HOUR SCHEDULES FOR TWO EMPLOYEES It is much easier to plan an eight hour schedule for two employees than for one, and there is no limit to the number of different ways in which the sixteen hours of work may be divided, subdivided, and arranged to please the individual housewife. With two employees, it is no longer necessary for the housewife to remain at home while one is off duty, even for an hour, for one relieves the other without any cessation of work. Even on the seventh day, "the day of rest," the housewife can always arrange to have her work done without doing it herself, in spite of the absence of one of her employees. When a schedule is finally agreed upon, however, it must be rigidly enforced, for it is more important to keep to the hours specified when there are two employees than when there is only one. Although the housewife may be tempted to claim the privilege of changing her hours very often to please herself, since she is the employer, if she value her peace of mind, she will refrain from doing it. Only when the inevitable, the unforeseen, occurs should she make a change in her regular schedule. When one employee is off duty all day, the other employee can remain on duty the entire day; naturally this plan necessitates more than eight hours of work on that day, probably two or three more hours, but if on the day after or the day before, the employee be allowed to work two or three hours less than eight hours, the average of eight hours a day and six days a week is maintained. Another example of what the housewife can do when one of her employees is off duty the entire day, is to make her other employee follow schedule No. 1. This enables her to keep to eight hours a day and at the same time the housewife does none of the housework herself. SCHEDULE NO. V With two employees it is a wise plan to arrange a schedule that makes the work of one employee commence the moment the work of the other ceases. This tends to promote punctuality without requiring special supervision on the part of the housewife. The following schedule is admirably adapted to the every day life of the average family with two employees: _First Employee_ From 7 A.M. to 11 A.M. 4 hours From 12 M. to 4 P.M. 4 hours ------- 8 hours _Second Employee_ From 11 A.M. to 3 P.M. 4 hours From 4 P.M. to 8 P.M. 4 hours ------- 8 hours All the washing, ironing, and mending of the family were done by the two employees, and they also took care of the children when necessary. Besides being good cooks, they were both excellent waitresses; in consequence it made no difference which one was on duty at meal time. One employee only was in charge of breakfast; she came at seven o'clock in the morning, and worked steadily until eleven o'clock, when the second employee arrived. She then went out for her lunch, returning at twelve, and remaining on duty until four o'clock in the afternoon. She was then free for the remainder of the day. The second employee, as soon as she arrived at 11 A.M., went through the house and finished any work that was not completed by the first employee. She worked without stopping until 3 P.M., then went away for her lunch; she returned at 4 P.M. to relieve the first employee whose work was over at four o'clock. The second employee remained on duty until 8 P.M.; she cooked and served dinner so quickly and efficiently that the housewife who had always been accustomed to have two employees, a "cook" and a "waitress," on duty for dinner every night, found to her great surprise that one efficient household employee, working on schedule time, accomplished in the same time the work of two of her former "servants." SCHEDULE NO. VI In this schedule the housewife wanted both her employees to help her with her two children. With this end in view, she made all the work of the house interchange with the care of the children; in consequence when one employee was off duty, the other could always be relied on to help with the children. This proved to be a very successful schedule, for it relieved the mother from being obliged to sit in the nursery as she was compelled to do every time her former "nurse" went downstairs to her meals, or had her "afternoon off." But when the mother wished to be with her children, and that was very often, the employee who was in the nursery at the time, left the room immediately to attend to other household duties. Both employees were on duty at 7 A.M., a most necessary arrangement where there are small children in a family. The first employee prepared and served breakfast for the family, while the other employee took full charge of the children, giving them their breakfast in the nursery, and taking them out afterwards for a walk. At 10 A.M., she returned with the children, and she was then off duty for two hours. The mother generally chose this time to be with her children; if however, she had any other engagement, the first employee was on duty until noon and could be called upon to look after them. _First Employee_ From 7 A.M. to 12 M. 5 hours From 5 P.M. to 8 P.M. 3 hours ------- 8 hours _Second Employee_ From 7 A.M. to 10 A.M. 3 hours From 12 M. to 5 P.M. 5 hours ------- 8 hours SCHEDULE NO. VII There are many families who may object to all the preceding schedules on account of the early hour in the evening for household employees to be off duty. When the housewife has never had her housework done on schedule time by an efficient employee, she may well think it impossible to have the dinner dishes washed up and everything put away in order by 8 P.M. However some families do not begin dinner before half past seven, or eight o'clock, or even later, but in these families, it is not unusual for the breakfast hour to be very late also. In consequence nothing is easier than to make a schedule for the day's work begin late and end late, without making any other alteration in it. The following schedule, however, combines an early breakfast and a late dinner, in a family where only two employees were kept: _First Employee_ From 7 A.M. to 12 M. 5 hours From 5 P.M. to 8 P.M. 3 hours ------- 8 hours _Second Employee_ From 12 M. to 5 P.M. 5 hours From 7 P.M. to 10 P.M. 3 hours (or from 8 to 11 P.M.) ------- 8 hours EIGHT HOUR SCHEDULES FOR THREE EMPLOYEES The greater the number of household employees, the easier it is to make a satisfactory working schedule. But the temptation to specialize the work is greater, and should be carefully guarded against. It is just as necessary with three employees as with one for the housewife to insist that each one be capable and willing to do all kinds of work in the home, including sewing and taking care of children. With three employees, the housewife ought to make them take turns in cooking and serving one of the three meals each day. This enables them to become familiar with the dining room and with the different dishes for each course; it also removes any feeling of embarrassment which naturally might be felt by an employee who is rarely called upon to cook or serve a meal. To have an expert needlewoman in the house is a great boon to the housewife, and when she has three employees who can sew in her home, she ought to insist upon a great deal of sewing and mending being done by each one of them. It is rare that the "servant" of to-day is a good sewer; in fact the housewife would hesitate to ask her to do even the ordinary mending, but when one engages household employees on an eight hour schedule, and when there are a hundred women to choose from, it is not hard to find several who sew well. SCHEDULE NO. VIII It is so easy to plan the housework for three employees that one schedule as an example seems quite sufficient, and the only thing that the housewife must remember is to make all the work interchangeable. _First Employee_ From 7 A.M. to 11 A.M. 4 hours From 12 M. to 4 P.M. 4 hours ------- 8 hours _Second Employee_ From 11 A.M. to 3 P.M. 4 hours From 4 P.M. to 8 P.M. 4 hours ------- 8 hours _Third Employee_ From 2 P.M. to 5 P.M. 3 hours From 6 P.M. to 11 P.M. 5 hours ------- 8 hours CONCLUSION In conclusion it seems that a few words are necessary about families who need the services of an employee at night as well as in the day time. There are many mothers who do not wish or who are not able to take care of their children at night, and in consequence it is absolutely necessary to have an attendant. The present custom is to have the nurse or maid sleep in the same room as the baby, or in a room adjoining the children's bedroom, so as to be within call. But a woman who has worked all day, or even eight hours a day, should not have her sleep disturbed at night by taking care of children. No woman can be fit for her work the next day if she has not been able to secure the average amount of sleep necessary to health. In many cases it has been proved that when a child does not sleep well at night, the nurse has taken upon herself the responsibility of giving it "soothing syrup" so as to keep it quiet. This is hardly to be wondered at when one considers the strain under which the nurse is kept day and night by taking care of a small child; besides the average nurse is generally ignorant of the harm caused by so-called "soothing syrups." If a child be sick, the mother should call in a trained nurse, that is if she can afford it, and when she has several employees, she can usually afford this extra expense. If the child or children be well, and the mother desires some one to attend to them at night, she should engage a woman who has no occupation during the day and who is willing to work at night. She should make a point of choosing one who sews well, so that the services of a seamstress might be combined with the duties of a night nurse. There is always some mending to do in all families and a woman who is clever with her needle might make herself very useful to her employer. Thousands of women sew by artificial light in dressmaking establishments and factories; in all probability just as many women could be found to sew by artificial light in private homes. Perhaps at first the novelty of working at night might deter women from taking a position similar to the one suggested above, but a woman who was really in need of work would not let the unusual hours prevent her from accepting it, Many men work at night and it is not unlikely that many women would be willing to do it too. Women are not as timid as they were reputed to be in former years; they would neither scream nor faint nowadays at the sight of a little mouse scampering across the floor. Indeed quite recently the newspapers reported that a woman whose husband had just died had accepted the position of a night watchman, and she filled her new rôle so successfully that on one occasion she managed to seize a burglar and handed him over to a policeman. This proposition of engaging a woman to work at night is only a suggestion, however, offered to those who find it absolutely necessary to have a domestic employee in their house at night. It remains to be proved if it could be carried out successfully. But the great changes in housekeeping described in the preceding chapters are not mere suggestions nor theories of what might be done: each reform has already been put into actual practice. The result has been so extraordinary that one is impelled to believe that the only way to solve the Servant Problem is to apply business principles to housework in private homes. Naturally such a revolution from methods now in vogue can not be wrought in a day, and the transitional period may be one of some difficulty and confusion for employer and employee alike who have spent a large portion of their lives under the old régime. But the revolution is imperative, and the ultimate benefit beyond calculation. 
13493	----	THE AMERICAN FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE. by MRS. CHILD, Author of "Hobomok," "The Mother's Book," Editor of the "Juvenile Miscellany," &c. 1832 DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO ARE NOT ASHAMED OF ECONOMY. A fat kitchen maketh a lean will.--FRANKLIN. "Economy is a poor man's revenue; extravagance a rich man's ruin." [Illustration: MUTTON. 1. Leg. 2. Loin, best end. 3. Do. Chump do. 4. Neck, best do. 5. Do Scrag do. 6. Shoulder. 7. Breast. Saddle, 2 Loins.] [Illustration: PORK. 1. The Sperib. 2. Hand. 3. Belly, or Spring. 4. Fore Loin. 5. Hind do. 6. Leg.] [Illustration: VEAL. 1. Loin, best end 2. Do Chump do 3. Fillet. 4. Knuckle, hind. 5. Do. fore. 6. Neck, best end. 7. Do. scrag do. 8. Blade Bone. 9. Breast, best end. 10. Do. Brisket.] [Illustration: BEEF. Hind Quarter. 1. Sir Loin. 2. Rump. 3. Aitch Bone. 4. Buttock. 5. Mouse do. 6. Veiny piece. 7. Thick Flank. 8. Thin do. 9. Leg. Fore Quarter. 10. Fore Rib, 5 Ribs. 11. Middle do 4 do. 12. Chuck, 3 do. 13. Shoulder, or Leg Mutton piece. 14. Brisket. 15. Clod. 16. Neck, or Sticking piece. 17. Shin. 18. Cheek.] INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER ODD SCRAPS FOR THE ECONOMICAL. SOAP. SIMPLE REMEDIES. GRUEL. EGG GRUEL. ARROW-ROOT JELLY. CALF'S FOOT JELLY. TAPIOCA JELLY. SAGO JELLY. BEEF TEA. WINE WHEY. APPLE WATER. MILK PORRIDGE. STEWED PRUNES. VEGETABLES. HERBS. CHEAP DYE-STUFFS. MEAT CORNED, OR SALTED, HAMS, &c. CHOICE OF MEAT. COMMON COOKING. VEAL. CALF'S HEAD. BEEF. ALAMODE BEEF. MUTTON AND LAMB. PORK. ROAST PIG. SAUSAGES. MINCE MEAT. BEANS AND PEAS. SOUSE. TRIPE. GRAVY. POULTRY. FRICASSEED CHICKEN, BROWN. FRICASSEED CHICKEN, WHITE. TO CURRY FOWL. CHICKEN BROTH. FISH. PUDDINGS. BAKED INDIAN PUDDING. BOILED INDIAN PUDDING. FLOUR OR BATTER PUDDING. BREAD PUDDING. RENNET PUDDING. CUSTARD PUDDINGS. RICE PUDDINGS. BIRD'S NEST PUDDING. APPLE PUDDING. CHERRY PUDDING. CRANBERRY PUDDING. WHORTLEBERRY PUDDING. PLUM PUDDING. HASTY PUDDING. CHEAP CUSTARDS. COMMON PIES. MINCE PIES. PUMPKIN AND SQUASH PIE. CARROT PIE. CHERRY PIE. WHORTLEBERRY PIE. APPLE PIE. CUSTARD PIE. CRANBERRY PIE. RHUBARB STALKS, OR PERSIAN APPLE. PIE CRUST. COMMON CAKES. GINGERBREAD. CUP CAKE. TEA CAKE. CIDER CAKE. ELECTION CAKE. SPONGE CAKE. WEDDING CAKE. LOAF CAKE. CARAWAY CAKES. DOUGH-NUTS. PANCAKES. FRITTERS. SHORT CAKE. INDIAN CAKE. BREAD, YEAST, &c. PRESERVES, &c. CURRANT JELLY. CURRANT WINE. RASPBERRY SHRUB. COFFEE. CHOCOLATE. TEA. PICKLES. BEER. GENERAL MAXIMS FOR HEALTH. HINTS TO PERSONS OF MODERATE FORTUNE [FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE MASSACHUSETTS JOURNAL.] FURNITURE. EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. TRAVELLING AND PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. PHILOSOPHY AND CONSISTENCY. REASONS FOR HARD TIMES. HOW TO ENDURE POVERTY. APPENDIX TO THE AMERICAN FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE. CARVING. INDEX. APPENDIX. It has become necessary to change the title of this work to the "_American_ Frugal Housewife," because there is an _English_ work of the same name, not adapted to the wants of this country. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER The true economy of housekeeping is simply the art of gathering up all the fragments, so that nothing be lost. I mean fragments of _time_, as well as _materials_. Nothing should be thrown away so long as it is possible to make any use of it, however trifling that use may be; and whatever be the size of a family, every member should be employed either in earning or saving money. 'Time is money.' For this reason, cheap as stockings are, it is good economy to knit them. Cotton and woollen yarn are both cheap; hose that are knit wear twice as long as woven ones; and they can be done at odd minutes of time, which would not be otherwise employed. Where there are children, or aged people, it is sufficient to recommend knitting, that it is an _employment_. In this point of view, patchwork is good economy. It is indeed a foolish waste of time to tear cloth into bits for the sake of arranging it anew in fantastic figures; but a large family may be kept out of idleness, and a few shillings saved, by thus using scraps of gowns, curtains, &c. In the country, where grain is raised, it is a good plan to teach children to prepare and braid straw for their own bonnets, and their brothers' hats. Where turkeys and geese are kept, handsome feather fans may as well be made by the younger members of a family, as to be bought. The sooner children are taught to turn their faculties to some account, the better for them and for their parents. In this country, we are apt to let children romp away their existence, till they get to be thirteen or fourteen. This is not well. It is not well for the purses and patience of parents; and it has a still worse effect on the morals and habits of the children. _Begin early_ is the great maxim for everything in education. A child of six years old can be made useful; and should be taught to consider every day lost in which some little thing has not been done to assist others. Children can very early be taught to take all the care of their own clothes. They can knit garters, suspenders, and stockings; they can make patchwork and braid straw; they can make mats for the table, and mats for the floor; they can weed the garden, and pick cranberries from the meadow, to be carried to market. Provided brothers and sisters go together, and are not allowed to go with bad children, it is a great deal better for the boys and girls on a farm to be picking blackberries at six cents a quart, than to be wearing out their clothes in useless play. They enjoy themselves just as well; and they are earning something to buy clothes, at the same time they are tearing them. It is wise to keep an exact account of all you expend--even of a paper of pins. This answers two purposes; it makes you more careful in spending money, and it enables your husband to judge precisely whether his family live within his income. No false pride, or foolish ambition to appear as well as others, should ever induce a person to live one cent beyond the income of which he is certain. If you have two dollars a day, let nothing but sickness induce you to spend more than nine shillings; if you have one dollar a day, do not spend but seventy-five cents; if you have half a dollar a day, be satisfied to spend forty cents. To associate with influential and genteel people with an appearance of equality, unquestionably has its advantages; particularly where there is a family of sons and daughters just coming upon the theatre of life; but, like all other external advantages, these have their proper price, and may be bought too dearly. They who never reserve a cent of their income, with which to meet any unforeseen calamity, 'pay too dear for the whistle,' whatever temporary benefits they may derive from society. Self-denial, in proportion to the narrowness of your income, will eventually be the happiest and most respectable course for you and yours. If you are prosperous, perseverance and industry will not fail to place you in such a situation as your ambition covets; and if you are not prosperous, it will be well for your children that they have not been educated to higher hopes than they will ever realize. If you are about to furnish a house, do not spend all your money, be it much or little. Do not let the beauty of this thing, and the cheapness of that, tempt you to buy unnecessary articles. Doctor Franklin's maxim was a wise one, 'Nothing is cheap that we do not want.' Buy merely enough to get along with at first. It is only by experience that you can tell what will be the wants of your family. If you spend all your money, you will find you have purchased many things you do not want, and have no means left to get many things which you do want. If you have enough, and more than enough, to get everything suitable to your situation, do not think you must spend it all, merely because you happen to have it. Begin humbly. As riches increase, it is easy and pleasant to increase in hospitality and splendour; but it is always painful and inconvenient to decrease. After all, these things are viewed in their proper light by the truly judicious and respectable. Neatness, tastefulness, and good sense, may be shown in the management of a small household, and the arrangement of a little furniture, as well as upon a larger scale; and these qualities are always praised, and always treated with respect and attention. The consideration which many purchase by living beyond their income, and of course living upon others, is not worth the trouble it costs. The glare there is about this false and wicked parade is deceptive; it does not in fact procure a man valuable friends, or extensive influence. More than that, it is wrong--morally wrong, so far as the individual is concerned; and injurious beyond calculation to the interests of our country. To what are the increasing beggary and discouraged exertions of the present period owing? A multitude of causes have no doubt tended to increase the evil; but the root of the whole matter is the extravagance of all classes of people. We never shall be prosperous till we make pride and vanity yield to the dictates of honesty and prudence! We never shall be free from embarrassment until we cease to be ashamed of industry and economy. Let women do their share towards reformation--Let their fathers and husbands see them happy without finery; and if their husbands and fathers have (as is often the case) a foolish pride in seeing them decorated, let them gently and gradually check this feeling, by showing that they have better and surer means of commanding respect--Let them prove, by the exertion of ingenuity and economy, that neatness, good taste, and gentility, are attainable without great expense. The writer has no apology to offer for this cheap little book of economical hints, except her deep conviction that such a book is needed. In this case, renown is out of the question, and ridicule is a matter of indifference. The information conveyed is of a common kind; but it is such as the majority of young housekeepers do not possess, and such as they cannot obtain from cookery books. Books of this kind have usually been written for the wealthy: I have written for the poor. I have said nothing about _rich_ cooking; those who can afford to be epicures will find the best of information in the 'Seventy-five Receipts.' I have attempted to teach how money can be _saved_, not how it can be _enjoyed_. If any persons think some of the maxims too rigidly economical, let them inquire how the largest fortunes among us have been made. They will find thousands and millions have been accumulated by a scrupulous attention to sums 'infinitely more minute than sixty cents.' In early childhood, you lay the foundation of poverty or riches, in the habits you give your children. Teach them to save everything,--not for their _own_ use, for that would make them selfish--but for _some_ use. Teach them to _share_ everything with their playmates; but never allow them to _destroy_ anything. I once visited a family where the most exact economy was observed; yet nothing was mean or uncomfortable. It is the character of true economy to be as comfortable and genteel with a little, as others can be with much. In this family, when the father brought home a package, the older children would, of their own accord, put away the paper and twine neatly, instead of throwing them in the fire, or tearing them to pieces. If the little ones wanted a piece of twine to play scratch-cradle, or spin a top, there it was, in readiness; and when they threw it upon the floor, the older children had no need to be told to put it again in its place. The other day, I heard a mechanic say, 'I have a wife and two little children; we live in a very small house; but, to save my life, I cannot spend less than twelve hundred a year.' Another replied, 'You are not economical; I spend but eight hundred.' I thought to myself,--'Neither of you pick up your twine and paper.' A third one, who was present, was silent; but after they were gone, he said, 'I keep house, and comfortably too, with a wife and children, for six hundred a year; but I suppose they would have thought me mean, if I had told them so.' I did not think him mean; it merely occurred to me that his wife and children were in the habit of picking up paper and twine. Economy is generally despised as a low virtue, tending to make people ungenerous and selfish. This is true of avarice; but it is not so of economy. The man who is economical, is laying up for himself the permanent power of being useful and generous. He who thoughtlessly gives away ten dollars, when he owes a hundred more than he can pay, deserves no praise,--he obeys a sudden impulse, more like instinct than reason: it would be real charity to check this feeling; because the good he does maybe doubtful, while the injury he does his family and creditors is certain. True economy is a careful treasurer in the service of benevolence; and where they are united respectability, prosperity and peace will follow. * * * * * ODD SCRAPS FOR THE ECONOMICAL. If you would avoid waste in your family, attend to the following rules, and do not despise them because they appear so unimportant: 'many a little makes a mickle.' Look frequently to the pails, to see that nothing is thrown to the pigs which should have been in the grease-pot. Look to the grease-pot, and see that nothing is there which might have served to nourish your own family, or a poorer one. See that the beef and pork are always _under_ brine; and that the brine is sweet and clean. Count towels, sheets, spoons, &c. occasionally; that those who use them may not become careless. See that the vegetables are neither sprouting nor decaying: if they are so, remove them to a drier place, and spread them. Examine preserves, to see that they are not contracting mould; and your pickles, to see that they are not growing soft and tasteless. As far as it is possible, have bits of bread eaten up before they become hard. Spread those that are not eaten, and let them dry, to be pounded for puddings, or soaked for brewis. Brewis is made of crusts and dry pieces of bread, soaked a good while in hot milk, mashed up, and salted, and buttered like toast. Above all, do not let crusts accumulate in such quantities that they cannot be used. With proper care, there is no need of losing a particle of bread, even in the hottest weather. Attend to all the mending in the house, once a week, if possible. Never put out sewing. If it be impossible to do it in your own family, hire some one into the house, and work with them. Make your own bread and cake. Some people think it is just as cheap to buy of the baker and confectioner; but it is not half as cheap. True, it is more convenient; and therefore the rich are justifiable in employing them; but those who are under the necessity of being economical, should make convenience a secondary object. In the first place, confectioners make their cake richer than people of moderate income can afford to make it; in the next place, your domestic, or yourself, may just as well employ your own time, as to pay them for theirs. When ivory-handled knives turn yellow, rub them with nice sand paper, or emery; it will take off the spots, and restore their whiteness. When a carpet is faded, I have been told that it may be restored, in a great measure, (provided there be no grease in it,) by being dipped into strong salt and water. I never tried this; but I know that silk pocket handkerchiefs, and deep blue factory cotton will not fade, if dipped in salt and water while new. An ox's gall will set any color,--silk, cotton, or woollen. I have seen the colors of calico, which faded at one washing, fixed by it. Where one lives near a slaughterhouse, it is worth while to buy cheap, fading goods, and set them in this way. The gall can be bought for a few cents. Get out all the liquid, and cork it up in a large phial. One large spoonful of this in a gallon of warm water is sufficient. This is likewise excellent for taking out spots from bombazine, bombazet, &c. After being washed in this, they look about as well as when new. It must be thoroughly stirred into the water, and not put upon the cloth. It is used without soap. After being washed in this, cloth which you want to _clean_ should be washed in warm suds, without using soap. Tortoise shell and horn combs last much longer for having oil rubbed into them once in a while. Indian meal and rye meal are in danger of fermenting in summer; particularly Indian. They should be kept in a cool place, and stirred open to the air, once in a while. A large stone, put in the middle of a barrel of meal, is a good thing to keep it cool. The covering of oil-flasks, sewed together with strong thread, and lined and bound neatly, makes useful tablemats. A warming-pan full of coals, or a shovel of coals, held over varnished furniture, will take out white spots. Care should be taken not to hold the coals near enough to scorch; and the place should be rubbed with flannel while warm. Spots in furniture may usually be cleansed by rubbing them quick and hard, with a flannel wet with the same thing which took out the color; if rum, wet the cloth with rum, &c. The very best restorative for defaced varnished furniture, is rotten-stone pulverized, and rubbed on with linseed oil. Sal-volatile, or hartshorn, will restore colors taken out by acid. It may be dropped upon any garment without doing harm. Spirits of turpentine is good to take grease-spots out of woollen clothes; to take spots of paint, &c., from mahogany furniture; and to cleanse white kid gloves. Cockroaches, and all vermin, have an aversion to spirits of turpentine. An ounce of quicksilver, beat up with the white of two eggs, and put on with a feather, is the cleanest and surest bed-bug poison. What is left should be thrown away: it is dangerous to have it about the house. If the vermin are in your walls, fill up the cracks with _verdigris_-green paint.[1] [Footnote 1: There are two kinds of green paint; one is of no use in destroying insects.] Lamps will have a less disagreeable smell if you dip your wick-yarn in strong hot vinegar, and dry it. Those who make candles will find it a great improvement to steep the wicks in lime-water and saltpetre, and dry them. The flame is clearer, and the tallow will not '_run_.' Britannia Ware should be first rubbed gently with a woollen cloth and sweet oil; then washed in warm suds, and rubbed with soft leather and whiting. Thus treated, it will retain its beauty to the last. Eggs will keep almost any length of time in lime-water properly prepared. One pint of coarse salt, and one pint of unslacked lime, to a pailful of water. If there be too much lime, it will eat the shells from the eggs; and if there be a single egg cracked, it will spoil the whole. They should be covered with lime-water, and kept in a cold place. The yolk becomes slightly red; but I have seen eggs, thus kept, perfectly sweet and fresh at the end of three years. The cheapest time to lay down eggs, is early in spring, and the middle and last of September. It is bad economy to buy eggs by the dozen, as you want them. New iron should be very gradually heated at first. After it has become inured to the heat, it is not as likely to crack. It is a good plan to put new earthen ware into cold water, and let it heat gradually, until it boils,--then cool again. Brown earthen ware, in particular, may be toughened in this way. A handful of rye, or wheat, bran, thrown in while it is boiling, will preserve the glazing, so that it will not be destroyed by acid or salt. Clean a brass kettle, before using it for cooking, with salt and vinegar. Skim-milk and water, with a bit of glue in it, heated scalding hot, is excellent to restore old, rusty, black Italian crape. If clapped and pulled dry, like nice muslin, it will look as well, or better, than when new. Wash-leather gloves should be washed in clean suds, scarcely warm. The oftener carpets are shaken, the longer they wear; the dirt that collects under them, grinds out the threads. Do not have carpets swept any oftener than is absolutely necessary. After dinner, sweep the crumbs into a dusting-pan with your hearth-brush; and if you have been sewing, pick up the shreds by hand. A carpet can be kept very neat in this way; and a broom wears it very much. Buy your woollen yarn in quantities from some one in the country, whom you can trust. The thread-stores make profits upon it, of course. It is not well to clean brass andirons, handles, &c. with vinegar. It makes them very clean at first; but they soon spot and tarnish. Rotten-stone and oil are proper materials for cleaning brasses. If wiped every morning with flannel and New England rum, they will not need to be cleaned half as often. If you happen to live in a house which has marble fire-places, never wash them with suds; this destroys the polish, in time. They should be dusted; the spots taken off with a nice oiled cloth, and then rubbed dry with a soft rag. Feathers should be very thoroughly dried before they are used. For this reason they should not be packed away in bags, when they are first plucked. They should be laid lightly in a basket, or something of that kind, and stirred up often. The garret is the best place to dry them; because they will there be kept free from dirt and moisture; and will be in no danger of being blown away. It is well to put the parcels, which you may have from time to time, into the oven, after you have removed your bread, and let them stand a day. If feather-beds smell badly, or become heavy, from want of proper preservation of the feathers, or from old age, empty them, and wash the feathers thoroughly in a tub of suds; spread them in your garret to dry, and they will be as light and as good as new. New England rum, constantly used to wash the hair, keeps it very clean, and free from disease, and promotes its growth a great deal more than Macassar oil. Brandy is very strengthening to the roots of the hair; but it has a hot, drying tendency, which N.E. rum has not. If you wish to preserve fine teeth, always clean them thoroughly after you have eaten your last meal at night. Rags should never be thrown away because they are dirty. Mop-rags, lamp-rags, &c. should be washed, dried, and put in the rag-bag. There is no need of expending soap upon them: boil them out in dirty suds, after you have done washing. Linen rags should be carefully saved; for they are extremely useful in sickness. If they have become dirty and worn by cleaning silver, &c., wash them, and scrape them into lint. After old coats, pantaloons, &c. have been cut up for boys, and are no longer capable of being converted into garments, cut them into strips, and employ the leisure moments of children, or domestics, in sewing and braiding them for door-mats. If you are troubled to get soft water for washing, fill a tub or barrel half full of ashes, and fill it up with water, so that you may have lye whenever you want it. A gallon of strong lye put into a great kettle of hard water will make it as soft as rain water. Some people use pearlash, or potash; but this costs something, and is very apt to injure the texture of the cloth. If you have a strip of land, do not throw away suds. Both ashes and suds are good manure for bushes and young plants. When a white Navarino bonnet becomes soiled, rip it in pieces, and wash it with a sponge and soft water. While it is yet damp, wash it two or three times with a clean sponge dipped into a strong saffron tea, nicely strained. Repeat this till the bonnet is as dark a straw color as you wish. Press it on the wrong side with a warm iron, and it will look like a new Leghorn. About the last of May, or the first of June, the little millers, which lay moth-eggs begin to appear. Therefore brush all your woollens, and pack them away in a dark place covered with linen. Pepper, red-cedar chips, tobacco,--indeed, almost any strong spicy smell,--is good to keep moths out of your chests and drawers. But nothing is so good as camphor. Sprinkle your woollens with camphorated spirit, and scatter pieces of camphor-gum among them, and you will never be troubled with moths. Some people buy camphor-wood trunks, for this purpose; but they are very expensive, and the gum answers just as well. The first young leaves of the common currant-bush, gathered as soon as they put out, and dried on tin, can hardly be distinguished from green tea. Cream of tartar, rubbed upon soiled white kid gloves, cleanses them very much. Bottles that have been used for rose-water, should be used for nothing else; if scalded ever so much, they will kill the spirit of what is put in them. If you have a greater quantity of cheeses in the house than is likely to be soon used, cover them carefully with paper, fastened on with flour paste, so as to exclude the air. In this way they may be kept free from insects for years. They should be kept in a dry, cool place. Pulverized alum possesses the property of purifying water. A large spoonful stirred into a hogshead of water will so purify it, that in a few hours the dirt will all sink to the bottom, and it will be as fresh and clear as spring water. Four gallons may be purified by a tea-spoonful. Save vials and bottles. Apothecaries and grocers will give something for them. If the bottles are of good thick glass, they will always be useful for bottling cider or beer; but if they are thin French glass, like claret bottles, they will not answer. Woollens should be washed in very hot suds, and not rinsed. Lukewarm water shrinks them. On the contrary, silk, or anything that has silk in it, should be washed in water almost cold. Hot water turns it yellow. It may be washed in suds made of nice white soap; but no soap should be put upon it. Likewise avoid the use of hot irons in smoothing silk. Either rub the articles dry with a soft cloth, or put them between two towels, and press them with weights. Do not let knives be dropped into hot dish-water. It is a good plan to have a large tin pot to wash them in, just high enough to wash the blades, _without wetting_ the handles. Keep your castors covered with blotting-paper and green flannel. Keep your salt-spoons out of the salt, and clean them often. Do not wrap knives and forks in woollens. Wrap them in good, strong paper. Steel is injured by lying in woollens. If it be practicable, get a friend in the country to procure you a quantity of lard, butter, and eggs, at the time they are cheapest, to be put down for winter use. You will be likely to get them cheaper and better than in the city market; but by all means put down your winter's stock. Lard requires no other care than to be kept in a dry, cool place. Butter is sweetest in September and June; because food is then plenty, and not rendered bitter by frost. Pack your butter in a clean, scalded firkin, cover it with strong brine, and spread a cloth all over the top, and it will keep good until the Jews get into Grand Isle. If you happen to have a bit of salt-petre, dissolve it with the brine. Dairy-women say that butter comes more easily, and has a peculiar hardness and sweetness, if the cream is scalded and strained before it is used. The cream should stand down cellar over night, after being scalded, that it may get perfectly cold. Suet and lard keep better in tin than in earthen. Suet keeps good all the year round, if chopped and packed down in a stone jar, covered with molasses. Pick suet free from veins and skin, melt it in water before a moderate fire, let it cool till it forms into a hard cake, then wipe it dry, and put it in clean paper in linen bags. Preserve the backs of old letters to write upon. If you have children who are learning to write, buy coarse white paper by the quantity, and keep it locked up, ready to be made into writing books. It does not cost half as much as it does to buy them at the stationer's. Do not let coffee and tea stand in tin. Scald your wooden ware often; and keep your tin ware dry. When mattresses get hard and bunchy, rip them, take the hair out, pull it thoroughly by hand, let it lie a day or two to air, wash the tick, lay it in as light and even as possible, and catch it down, as before. Thus prepared, they will be as good as new. It is poor economy to buy vinegar by the gallon, Buy a barrel, or half a barrel, of really strong vinegar, when you begin house-keeping. As you use it, fill the barrel with old cider, sour beer, or wine-settlings, &c., left in pitchers, decanters or tumblers; weak tea is likewise said to be good: nothing is hurtful, which has a tolerable portion of spirit, or acidity. Care must be taken not to add these things in too large quantities, or too often: if the vinegar once gets weak, it is difficult to restore it. If possible, it is well to keep such slops as I have mentioned in a different keg, and draw them off once in three or four weeks, in such a quantity as you think the vinegar will bear. If by any carelessness you do weaken it, a few white beans dropped in, or white paper dipped in molasses, is said to be useful. If beer grows sour, it may be used to advantage for pancakes and fritters. If very sour indeed, put a pint of molasses and water to it, and, two or three days after, put a half pint of vinegar; and in ten days it will be first rate vinegar. Barley straw is the best for beds; dry corn husks, slit into shreds, are far better than straw. Straw beds are much better for being boxed at the sides; in the same manner upholsterers prepare ticks for feathers. Brass andirons should be cleaned, done up in papers, and put in a dry place, during the summer season. If you have a large family, it is well to keep white rags separate from colored ones, and cotton separate from woollen; they bring a higher price. Paper brings a cent a pound, and if you have plenty of room, it is well to save it. 'A penny saved is a penny got.' Always have plenty of dish-water, and have it hot. There is no need of asking the character of a domestic, if you have ever seen her wash dishes in a little greasy water. When molasses is used in cooking, it is a prodigious improvement to boil and skim it before you use it. It takes out the unpleasant raw taste, and makes it almost as good as sugar. Where molasses is used much for cooking, it is well to prepare one or two gallons in this way at a time. In winter, always set the handle of your pump as high as possible, before you go to bed. Except in very rigid weather, this keeps the handle from freezing. When there is reason to apprehend extreme cold, do not forget to throw a rug or horse-blanket over your pump; a frozen pump is a comfortless preparation for a winter's breakfast. Never allow ashes to be taken up in wood, or put into wood. Always have your tinder-box and lantern ready for use, in case of sudden alarm. Have important papers all together, where you can lay your hand on them at once, in case of fire. Keep an old blanket and sheet on purpose for ironing, and on no account suffer any other to be used. Have plenty of holders always made, that your towels may not be burned out in such service. Keep a coarse broom for the cellar stairs, wood-shed, yard, &c. No good housekeeper allows her carpet broom to be used for such things. There should always be a heavy stone on the top of your pork, to keep it down. This stone is an excellent place to keep a bit of fresh meat in the summer, when you are afraid of its spoiling. Have all the good bits of vegetables and meat collected after dinner, and minced before they are set away; that they may be in readiness to make a little savoury mince meat for supper or breakfast. Take the skins off your potatoes before they grow cold. Vials, which have been used for medicine, should be put into cold ashes and water, boiled, and suffered to cool before they are rinsed. If you live in the city, where it is always easy to procure provisions, be careful and not buy too much for your daily wants, while the weather is warm. Never leave out your clothes-line over night; and see that your clothes-pins are all gathered into a basket. Have plenty of crash towels in the kitchen; never let your white napkins be used there. Soap your dirtiest clothes, and soak them in soft water over night. Use hard soap to wash your clothes, and soft to wash your floors. Soft soap is so slippery, that it wastes a good deal in washing clothes. Instead of covering up your glasses and pictures with muslin, cover the frames only with cheap, yellow cambric, neatly put on, and as near the color of the gilt as you can procure it. This looks better; leaves the glasses open for use, and the pictures for ornament; and is an effectual barrier to dust as well as flies. It can easily be re-colored with saffron tea, when it is faded. Have a bottle full of brandy, with as large a mouth as any bottle you have, into which cut your lemon and orange peel when they are fresh and sweet. This brandy gives a delicious flavor to all sorts of pies, puddings, and cakes. Lemon is the pleasantest spice of the two; therefore they should be kept in separate bottles. It is a good plan to preserve rose-leaves in brandy. The flavor is pleasanter than rose-water; and there are few people who have the utensils for distilling. Peach leaves steeped in brandy make excellent spice for custards and puddings. It is easy to have a supply of horse-radish all winter. Have a quantity grated, while the root is in perfection, put it in bottles, fill it with strong vinegar, and keep it corked tight. It is thought to be a preventive to the unhealthy influence of cucumbers to cut the slices very thin, and drop each one into cold water as you cut it. A few minutes in the water takes out a large portion of the slimy matter, so injurious to health. They should be eaten with high seasoning. Where sweet oil is much used, it is more economical to buy it by the bottle than by the flask. A bottle holds more than twice as much as a flask, and it is never double the price. If you wish to have free-stone hearths dark, wash them with soap, and wipe them with a wet cloth; some people rub in lamp-oil, once in a while, and wash the hearth faithfully afterwards. This does very well in a large, dirty family; for the hearth looks very clean, and is not liable to show grease spots. But if you wish to preserve the beauty of a freestone hearth, buy a quantity of free-stone powder of the stone-cutter, and rub on a portion of it wet, after you have washed your hearth in hot water. When it is dry, brush it off, and it will look like new stone. Bricks can be kept clean with redding stirred up in water, and put on with a brush. Pulverized clay mixed with redding, makes a pretty rose color. Some think it is less likely to come off, if mixed with skim milk instead of water. But black lead is far handsomer than anything else for this purpose. It looks very well mixed with water, like redding; but it gives it a glossy appearance to boil the lead in soft soap, with a little water to keep it from burning. It should be put on with a brush, in the same manner as redding; it looks nice for a long time, when done in this way. Keep a bag for odd pieces of tape and strings; they will come in use. Keep a bag or box for old buttons, so that you may know where to go when you want one. Run the heels of stockings faithfully; and mend thin places, as well as holes. 'A stitch in time saves nine.' Poke-root, boiled in water and mixed with a good quantity of molasses, set about the kitchen, the pantry, &c. in large deep plates, will kill cockroaches in great numbers, and finally rid the house of them. The Indians say that poke-root boiled into a soft poultice is the cure for the bite of a snake. I have heard of a fine horse saved by it. A little salt sprinkled in starch while it is boiling, tends to prevent it from sticking; it is likewise good to stir it with a clean spermaceti candle. A few potatoes sliced, and boiling water poured over them, makes an excellent preparation for cleansing and stiffening old rusty black silk. Green tea is excellent to restore rusty silk. It should be boiled in iron, nearly a cup full to three quarts. The silk should not be wrung, and should be ironed damp. Lime pulverized, sifted through coarse muslin, and stirred up tolerably thick in white of eggs, makes a strong cement for glass and china. Plaster of Paris is still better; particularly for mending broken images of the same material. It should be stirred up by the spoonful, as it is wanted.[2] [Footnote 2: Some think it an improvement to make whey of vinegar and milk, and heat it well up with the eggs before the lime is put in. I have heard of iron mended with it.] A bit of isinglass dissolved in gin, or boiled in spirits of wine, is said to make strong cement for broken glass, china, and sea-shells. The lemon syrup, usually sold at fifty cents a bottle, may be made much cheaper. Those who use a great quantity of it will find it worth their while to make it. Take about a pound of Havana sugar; boil it in water down to a quart; drop in the white of an egg, to clarify it; strain it; add one quarter of an oz. of tartaric acid, or citric acid; if you do not find it sour enough, after it has stood two or three days and shaken freely, add more of the acid. A few drops of the oil of lemon improves it. If you wish to clarify sugar and water, you are about to boil, it is well to stir in the white of one egg, while cold; if put in after it boils, the egg is apt to get hardened before it can do any good. Those who are fond of soda powders will do well to inquire at the apothecaries for the suitable acid and alkali, and buy them by the ounce, or the pound, according to the size of their families. Experience soon teaches the right proportions; and, sweetened with a little sugar or lemon syrup, it is quite as good as what one gives five times as much for, done up in papers. The case is the same with Rochelle powders. When the stopper of a glass decanter becomes too tight, a cloth wet with hot water and applied to the neck, will cause the glass to expand, so that the stopper may be easily removed. Glass vessels in a cylindrical form, may be cut in two, by tying around them a worsted thread, thoroughly wet with spirits of turpentine, and then setting fire to the thread. Court plaster is made of thin silk first dipped in dissolved isinglass and dried, then dipped several times in the white of egg and dried. When plain tortoise-shell combs are defaced, the polish may be renewed by rubbing them with pulverized rotten-stone and oil. The rotten-stone should be sifted through muslin. It looks better to be rubbed on by the hand. The jewellers afterwards polish them by rubbing them with dry _rouge powder_; but sifted magnesia does just as well--and if the ladies had rouge, perhaps they would, _by mistake_, put it upon their cheeks, instead of their combs; and thereby spoil their complexions. The best way to cleanse gold is, to wash it in warm suds made of delicate soap, with ten or fifteen drops of _sal-volatile_ in it. This makes jewels very brilliant. Straw carpets should be washed in salt and water, and wiped with a dry, coarse towel. They have a strong tendency to turn yellow; and the salt prevents it. Moisture makes them decay soon; therefore they should be kept thoroughly dry. Rye paste is more adhesive than any other paste; because that grain is very glutinous. It is much improved by adding a little pounded alum, while it is boiling. This makes it almost as strong as glue. Red ants are among the worst plagues that can infest a house. A lady who had long been troubled with them, assured me she destroyed them in a few days, after the following manner. She placed a dish of cracked shagbarks (of which they are more fond than of anything else) in the closet. They soon gathered upon it in troops. She then put some corrosive sublimate in a cup; ordered the dish to be carried carefully to the fire, and all its contents brushed in; while she swept the few that dropped upon the shelf into the cup, and, with a feather, wet all the cracks from whence they came, with corrosive sublimate. When this had been repeated four or five times, the house was effectually cleared. Too much care cannot be taken of corrosive sublimate, especially when children are about. Many dreadful accidents have happened in consequence of carelessness. Bottles which have contained it should be broken, and buried; and cups should be boiled out in ashes and water. If kept in the house, it should be hung up high, out of reach, with POISON written upon it in large letters. The neatest way to separate wax from honey-comb is to tie the comb up in a linen or woollen bag; place it in a kettle of cold water, and hang it over the fire. As the water heats, the wax melts, and rises to the surface, while all the impurities remain in the bag. It is well to put a few pebbles in the bag, to keep it from floating. Honey may be separated from the comb, by placing it in the hot sun, or before the fire, with two or three colanders or sieves, each finer than the other, under it. * * * * * SOAP. In the city, I believe, it is better to exchange ashes and grease for soap; but in the country, I am certain, it is good economy to make one's own soap. If you burn wood, you can make your own lye; but the ashes of coal is not worth much. Bore small holes in the bottom of a barrel, place four bricks around, and fill the barrel with ashes. Wet the ashes well, but not enough to drop; let it soak thus three or four days; then pour a gallon of water in every hour or two, for a day or more, and let it drop into a pail or tub beneath. Keep it dripping till the color of the lye shows the strength is exhausted. If your lye is not strong enough, you must fill your barrel with fresh ashes, and let the lye run through it. Some people take a barrel without any bottom, and lay sticks and straw across to prevent the ashes from falling through. To make a barrel of soap, it will require about five or six bushels of ashes, with at least four quarts of unslacked stone lime; if slacked, doable the quantity. When you have drawn off a part of the lye, put the lime (whether slack or not) into two or three pails of boiling water, and add it to the ashes, and let it drain through. It is the practice of some people, in making soap, to put the lime near the bottom of the ashes when they first set it tip; but the lime becomes like mortar, and the lye does not run through, so as to get the strength of it, which is very important in making soap, as it contracts the nitrous salts which collect in ashes, and prevents the soap from _coming_, (as the saying is.) Old ashes are very apt to be impregnated with it. Three pounds of grease should be put into a pailful of lye. The great difficulty in making soap '_come_' originates in want of judgment about the strength of the lye. One rule may be safely trusted--If your lye will bear up an egg, or a potato, so that you can see a piece of the surface as big as ninepence, it is just strong enough. If it sink below the top of the lye, it is too weak, and will never make soap; if it is buoyed up half way, the lye is too strong; and that is just as bad. A bit of quick-lime, thrown in while the lye and grease are boiling together, is of service. When the soap becomes thick and ropy, carry it down cellar in pails and empty it into a barrel. Cold soap is less trouble, because it does not need to boil; the sun does the work of fire. The lye must be prepared and tried in the usual way. The grease must be tried out, and strained from the scraps. Two pounds of grease (instead of three) must be used to a pailful; unless the weather is very sultry, the lye should be hot when put to the grease. It should stand in the sun, and be stirred every day. If it does not begin to look like soap in the course of five or six days, add a little hot lye to it; if this does not help it, try whether it be grease that it wants. Perhaps you will think cold soap wasteful, because the grease must be strained; but if the scraps are boiled thoroughly in strong lye, the grease will all float upon the surface, and nothing be lost. * * * * * SIMPLE REMEDIES. Cotton wool, wet with sweet oil and paregoric, relieves the ear-ache very soon. A good quantity of old cheese is the best thing to eat, when distressed by eating too much fruit, or oppressed with any kind of food. Physicians have given it in cases of extreme danger. Honey and milk is very good for worms; so is strong salt water; likewise powdered sage and molasses taken freely. For a sudden attack of quincy or croup, bathe the neck with bear's grease, and pour it down the throat. A linen rag soaked in sweet oil, butter, or lard, and sprinkled with yellow Scotch snuff, is said to have performed wonderful cures in cases of croup: it should be placed where the distress is greatest. Goose-grease, or any kind of oily grease, is as good as bear's oil. Equal parts of camphor, spirits of wine, and hartshorn, well mixed, and rubbed upon the throat, is said to be good for the croup. Cotton wool and oil are the best things for a burn. A poultice of wheat bran, or rye bran, and vinegar, very soon takes down the inflammation occasioned by a sprain. Brown paper, wet, is healing to a bruise. Dipped in molasses, it is said to take down inflammation. In case of any scratch, or wound, from which the lockjaw is apprehended, bathe the injured part freely with lye or pearl-ash and water. A rind of pork bound upon a wound occasioned by a needle, pin, or nail, prevents the lock-jaw. It should be always applied. Spirits of turpentine is good to prevent the lock-jaw. Strong soft-soap, mixed with pulverized chalk, about as thick as batter, put, in a thin cloth or bag, upon the wound, is said to be a preventive to this dangerous disorder. The chalk should be kept moist, till the wound begins to discharge itself; when the patient will find relief. If you happen to cut yourself slightly while cooking, bind on some fine salt: molasses is likewise good. Flour boiled thoroughly in milk, so as to make quite a thick porridge, is good in cases of dysentery. A tablespoonful of W.I. rum, a table-spoonful of sugar-baker's molasses, and the same quantity of sweet oil, well simmered together, is likewise good for this disorder; the oil softens the harshness of the other ingredients. Black or green tea, steeped in boiling milk, seasoned with nutmeg, and best of loaf sugar, is excellent for the dysentery. Cork burnt to charcoal, about as big as a hazel-nut, macerated, and put in a tea-spoonful of brandy, with a little loaf sugar and nutmeg, is very efficacious in cases of dysentery and cholera-morbus. If nutmeg be wanting, peppermint-water may be used. Flannel wet with brandy, powdered with Cayenne pepper, and laid upon the bowels, affords great relief in cases of extreme distress. Dissolve as much table-salt in keen vinegar, as will ferment and work clear. When the foam is discharged, cork it up in a bottle, and put it away for use. A large spoonful of this, in a gill of boiling water, is very efficacious in cases of dysentery and colic.[3] [Footnote 3: Among the numerous medicines for this disease, perhaps none, after all, is better, particularly where the bowels are inflamed, than the old-fashioned one of English-mallows steeped in milk, and drank freely. Everybody knows, of course, that English-mallows and marsh-mallows are different herbs.] Whortleberries, commonly called huckleberries, dried, are a useful medicine for children. Made into tea, and sweetened with molasses, they are very beneficial, when the system is in a restricted state, and the digestive powers out of order. Blackberries are extremely useful in cases of dysentery. To eat the berries is very healthy; tea made of the roots and leaves is beneficial; and a syrup made of the berries is still better. Blackberries have sometimes effected a cure when physicians despaired. Loaf sugar and brandy relieves a sore throat; when very bad, it is good to inhale the steam of scalding hot vinegar through the tube of a tunnel. This should be tried carefully at first, lest the throat be scalded. For children, it should be allowed to cool a little. A stocking bound on warm from the foot, at night, is good for the sore throat. An ointment made from the common ground-worms, which boys dig to bait fishes, rubbed on with the hand, is said to be excellent, when the sinews are drawn up by any disease or accident. A gentleman in Missouri advertises that he had an inveterate cancer upon his nose cured by a strong potash made of the lye of the ashes of red oak bark, boiled down to the consistence of molasses. The cancer was covered with this, and, about an hour after, covered with a plaster of tar. This must be removed in a few days, and, if any protuberances remain in the wound, apply more potash to them, and the plaster again, until they entirely disappear: after which heal the wound with any common soothing salve. I never knew this to be tried. If a wound bleeds very fast, and there is no physician at hand, cover it with the scrapings of sole-leather, scraped like coarse lint. This stops blood very soon. Always have vinegar, camphor, hartshorn, or something of that kind, in readiness, as the sudden stoppage of blood almost always makes a person faint. Balm-of-Gilead buds bottled up in N.E. rum, make the best cure in the world for fresh cuts and wounds. Every family should have a bottle of it. The buds should be gathered in a peculiar state; just when they are well swelled, ready to burst into leaves, and well covered with gum. They last but two or three days in this state. Plantain and house-leek, boiled in cream, and strained before it is put away to cool, makes a very cooling, soothing ointment. Plantain leaves laid upon a wound are cooling and healing. Half a spoonful of _citric acid_, (which may always be bought of the apothecaries,) stirred in half a tumbler of water, is excellent for the head-ache. People in general think they must go abroad for vapor-baths; but a very simple one can be made at home. Place _strong_ sticks across a tub of water, at the boiling point, and sit upon them, entirely enveloped in a blanket, feet and all. The steam from the water will be a vapor-bath. Some people put herbs into the water. Steam-baths are excellent for severe colds, and for some disorders in the bowels. They should not be taken without the advice of an experienced nurse, or physician. Great care should be taken not to renew the cold after; it would be doubly dangerous. Boiled potatoes are said to cleanse the hands as well as common soap; they prevent _chops_ in the winter season, and keep the skin soft and healthy. Water-gruel, with three or four onions simmered in it, prepared with a lump of butter, pepper, and salt, eaten just before one goes to bed, is said to be a cure for a hoarse cold. A syrup made of horseradish-root and sugar is excellent for a cold. Very strong salt and water, when frequently applied, has been known to cure wens. The following poultice for the throat distemper, has been much approved in England:--The pulp of a roasted apple, mixed with an ounce of tobacco, the whole wet with spirits of wine, or any other high spirits, spread on a linen rag, and bound upon the throat at any period of the disorder. Nothing is so good to take down swellings, as a soft poultice of stewed white beans, put on in a thin muslin bag, and renewed every hour or two. The thin white skin, which comes from suet, is excellent to bind upon the feet for chilblains. Rubbing with Castile soap, and afterwards with honey, is likewise highly recommended. But, to cure the chilblains effectually, they must be attended to often, and for a long time. Always apply diluted laudanum to fresh wounds. A poultice of elder-blow tea and biscuit is good as a preventive to mortification. The approach of mortification is generally shown by the formation of blisters filled with _blood_; water blisters are not alarming. Burnt alum held in the mouth is good for the canker. The common dark-blue violet makes a slimy tea, which is excellent for the canker. Leaves and blossoms are both good. Those who have families should take some pains to dry these flowers. When people have a sore mouth, from taking calomel, or any other cause, tea made of low-blackberry leaves is extremely beneficial. Tea made of slippery elm is good for the piles, and for humors in the blood; to be drank plentifully. Winter evergreen[4] is considered good for all humors, particularly scrofula. Some call it rheumatism-weed; because a tea made from it is supposed to check that painful disorder. [Footnote 4: This plant resembles the poisonous kill-lamb, both in the shape and the glossiness of the leaves: great care should be used to distinguish them.] An ointment of lard, sulphur, and cream-of-tartar, simmered together, is good for the piles. Elixir proprietatis is a useful family medicine for all cases when the digestive powers are out of order. One ounce of saffron, one ounce of myrrh, and one ounce of aloes. Pulverize them; let the myrrh steep in half a pint of brandy, or N.E. rum, for four days; then add the saffron and aloes; let it stand in the sunshine, or in some warm place, for a fortnight; taking care to shake it well twice a day. At the end of the fortnight, fill up the bottle (a common sized one) with brandy, or N.E. rum, and let it stand a month. It costs six times as much to buy it in small quantities, as it does to make it. The constant use of malt beer, or malt in any way, is said to be a preservative against fevers. Black cherry-tree bark, barberry bark, mustard-seed, petty morrel-root, and horseradish, well steeped in cider, are excellent for the jaundice. Cotton wool and oil are the best things for a burn. When children are burned, it is difficult to make them endure the application of cotton wool. I have known the inflammation of a very bad burn extracted in one night, by the constant application of brandy, vinegar, and water, mixed together. This feels cool and pleasant, and a few drops of paregoric will soon put the little sufferer to sleep. The bathing should be continued till the pain is gone. A few drops of the oil of Cajput on cotton wool is said to be a great relief to the tooth-ache. It occasions a smart pain for a few seconds, when laid upon the defective tooth. Any apothecary will furnish it ready dropped on cotton wool, for a few cents. A poultice made of ginger or of common chickweed, that grows about one's door in the country, has given great relief to the tooth-ache, when applied frequently to the cheek. A spoonful of ashes stirred in cider is good to prevent sickness at the stomach. Physicians frequently order it in cases of cholera-morbus. When a blister occasioned by a burn breaks, it is said to be a good plan to put wheat flour upon the naked flesh. The buds of the elder bush, gathered in early spring, and simmered with new butter, or sweet lard, make a very healing and cooling ointment. Night sweats have been cured, when more powerful remedies had failed, by fasting morning and night, and drinking cold sage tea constantly and freely. Lard, melted and cooled five or six times in succession, by being poured each time into a fresh pail-full of water, then simmered with sliced onions, and cooled, is said, by old nurses, to make a salve, which is almost infallible in curing inflammations produced by taking cold in wounds. Vinegar curds, made by pouring vinegar into warm milk, put on warm, and changed pretty frequently, are likewise excellent to subdue inflammation. Chalk wet with hartshorn is a remedy for the sting of bees; so is likewise table-salt kept moist with water. Boil castor-oil with an equal quantity of milk, sweeten it with a little sugar, stir it well, and, when cold, give it to children for drink. They will never suspect it is medicine; and will even love the taste of it. As molasses is often given to children as a gentle physic, it will be useful to know that West India molasses is a gentle cathartic, while sugar-baker's molasses is slightly astringent. If a fellon or run-round appears to be coming on the finger, you can do nothing better than to soak the finger thoroughly in hot lye. It will be painful, but it will cure a disorder much more painful. Whiskey, which has had Spanish-flies in soak, is said to be good for ring-worms; but I never knew an instance of its being tried. Unless too strong, or used in great quantities, it cannot, at least, do any harm. Washing the hands frequently in warm vinegar, is good for ring-worms. When the toe nails have a tendency to turn in, so as to be painful, the nail should always be kept scraped _very thin_, and as near the flesh as possible. As soon as the corner of the nail can be raised up out of the flesh, it should be kept from again entering, by putting a tuft of fine lint under it. As this book may fall into the hands of those who cannot speedily obtain a physician, it is worth while to mention what is best to be done for the bite of a rattlesnake:--Cut the flesh out, around the bite, _instantly_; that the poison may not have time to circulate in the blood. If caustic is at hand, put it upon the raw flesh; if not, the next best thing is to fill the wound with salt--renewing it occasionally. Take a dose of sweet oil and spirits of turpentine, to defend the stomach. If the whole limb swell, bathe it in salt and vinegar freely. It is well to physic the system thoroughly, before returning to usual diet. GRUEL. Gruel is very easily made. Have a pint of water boiling in a skillet; stir up three or four large spoonfuls of nicely sifted oat-meal, rye, or Indian, in cold water. Pour it into the skillet while the water boils. Let it boil eight or ten minutes. Throw in a large handful of raisins to boil, if the patient is well enough to bear them. When put in a bowl, add a little salt, white sugar, and nutmeg. EGG GRUEL. This is at once food and medicine. Some people have very great faith in its efficacy in cases of chronic dysentery. It is made thus: Boil a pint of new milk; beat four new-laid eggs to a light froth, and pour in while the milk boils; stir them together thoroughly, but do not let them boil; sweeten it with the best of loaf sugar, and grate in a whole nutmeg; add a little salt, if you like it. Drink half of it while it is warm, and the other half in two hours. ARROW-ROOT JELLY. Put about a pint of water in a skillet to boil; stir up a large spoonful of arrow-root powder in a cup of water; pour it into the skillet while the water is boiling; let them boil together three or four minutes. Season it with nutmeg and loaf sugar. This is very light food for an invalid. When the system is in a relaxed state, two tea-spoonfuls of brandy may be put in. Milk and loaf sugar boiled, and a spoonful of fine flour, well mixed with a little cold water, poured in while the milk is boiling, is light food in cases of similar diseases. CALF'S FOOT JELLY. Boil four feet in a gallon of water, till it is reduced to a quart. Strain it, and let it stand, till it is quite cool. Skim off the fat, and add to the jelly one pint of wine, half a pound of sugar, the whites of six eggs, and the juice of four large lemons; boil all these materials together eight or ten minutes. Then strain into the glasses, or jars, in which you intend to keep it. Some lay a few bits of the lemon-peel at the bottom, and let it be strained upon them. TAPIOCA JELLY. Wash it two or three times, soak it five or six hours; simmer it in the same water with bits of fresh lemon-peel until it becomes quite clear; then put in lemon juice, wine and loaf sugar. SAGO JELLY. The sago should be soaked in cold water an hour, and washed thoroughly; simmered with lemon-peel and a few cloves. Add wine and loaf sugar when nearly done; and let it all boil together a few minutes. BEEF TEA. Beef tea, for the sick, is made by broiling a tender steak nicely, seasoning it with pepper and salt, cutting it up, and pouring water over it, not quite boiling. Put in a little water at a time, and let it stand to soak the goodness out. WINE WHEY. Wine whey is a cooling and safe drink in fevers. Set half a pint of sweet milk at the fire, pour in one glass of wine, and let it remain perfectly still, till it curdles; when the curds settle, strain it, and let it cool. It should not get more than blood-warm. A spoonful of rennet-water hastens the operation. Made palatable with loaf sugar and nutmeg, if the patient can bear it. APPLE WATER. This is given as sustenance when the stomach is too weak to bear broth, &c. It may be made thus,--Pour boiling water on roasted apples; let them stand three hours, then strain and sweeten lightly:--Or it may be made thus,--Peel and slice tart apples, add some sugar and lemon-peel; then pour some boiling water over the whole, and let it stand covered by the fire, more than an hour. MILK PORRIDGE. Boil new milk; stir flour thoroughly into some cold milk in a bowl, and pour it into the kettle while the milk is boiling: let it all boil six or eight minutes. Some people like it thicker than others; I should think three large spoonfuls of flour to a quart of milk was about right. It should always be seasoned with salt; and if the patient likes, loaf sugar and nutmeg may be put in. In cases of fever, little salt or spice should be put into any nourishment; but in cases of dysentery, salt and nutmeg may be used freely: in such cases too, more flour should be put in porridge, and it should be boiled very thoroughly indeed. STEWED PRUNES. Stew them very gently in a small quantity of water, till the stones slip out. Physicians consider them safe nourishment in fevers. * * * * * VEGETABLES. Parsnips should be kept down cellar, covered up in sand, entirely excluded from the air. They are good only in the spring. Cabbages put into a hole in the ground will keep well during the winter, and be hard, fresh, and sweet, in the spring. Many farmers keep potatoes in the same way. Onions should be kept very dry, and never carried into the cellar except in severe weather, when there is danger of their freezing. By no means let them be in the cellar after March; they will sprout and spoil. Potatoes should likewise be carefully looked to in the spring, and the sprouts broken off. The cellar is the best place for them, because they are injured by wilting; but sprout them carefully, if you want to keep them. They never sprout but three times; therefore, after you have sprouted them three times, they will trouble you no more. Squashes should never be kept down cellar when it is possible to prevent it. Dampness injures them. If intense cold makes it necessary to put them there, bring them up as soon as possible, and keep them in some dry, warm place. Cabbages need to be boiled an hour; beets an hour and a half. The lower part of a squash should be boiled half an hour; the neck pieces fifteen or twenty minutes longer. Parsnips should boil an hour, or an hour and a quarter, according to size. New potatoes should boil fifteen or twenty minutes; three quarters of an hour, or an hour, is not too much for large, old potatoes; common-sized ones, half an hour. In the spring, it is a good plan to cut off a slice from the seed end of potatoes before you cook them. The seed end is opposite to that which grew upon the vine; the place where the vine was broken off may be easily distinguished. By a provision of nature, the seed end becomes watery in the spring; and, unless cut off, it is apt to injure the potato. If you wish to have potatoes mealy, do not let them stop boiling for an instant; and when they are done, turn the water off, and let them steam for ten or twelve minutes over the fire. See they don't stay long enough to burn to the kettle. In Canada, they cut the skin all off, and put them in pans, to be cooked over a stove, by steam. Those who have eaten them, say they are mealy and white, looking like large snow-balls when brought upon the table. Potatoes boiled and mashed while hot, are good to use in making short cakes and puddings; they save flour, and less shortening is necessary. It is said that a bit of unslacked lime, about as big as a robin's egg, thrown among old, watery potatoes, while they are boiling, will tend to make them mealy. I never saw the experiment tried. Asparagus should be boiled fifteen or twenty minutes; half an hour, if old. Green peas should be boiled from twenty minutes to sixty, according to their age; string beans the same. Corn should be boiled from twenty minutes to forty, according to age; dandelions half an hour, or three quarters, according to age. Dandelions are very much improved by cultivation. If cut off, without injuring the root, they will spring up again, fresh and tender, till late in the season. Beet-tops should be boiled twenty minutes; and spinage three or four minutes. Put in no green vegetables till the water boils, if you would keep all their sweetness. When green peas have become old and yellow, they may be made tender and green by sprinkling in a pinch or two of pearlash, while they are boiling. Pearlash has the same effect upon all summer vegetables, rendered tough by being too old. If your well-water is very hard, it is always an advantage to use a little pearlash in cooking. Tomatoes should be skinned by pouring boiling water over them. After they are skinned, they should be stewed half an hour, in tin, with a little salt, a small bit of butter, and a spoonful of water, to keep them from burning. This is a delicious vegetable. It is easily cultivated, and yields a most abundant crop. Some people pluck them green, and pickle them. The best sort of catsup is made from tomatoes. The vegetables should be squeezed up in the hand, salt put to them, and set by for twenty-four hours. After being passed through a sieve, cloves, allspice, pepper, mace, garlic, and whole mustard-seed should be added. It should be boiled down one third, and bottled after it is cool. No liquid is necessary, as the tomatoes are very juicy. A good deal of salt and spice is necessary to keep the catsup well. It is delicious with roast meat; and a cupful adds much to the richness of soup and chowder. The garlic should be taken out before it is bottled. Celery should be kept in the cellar, the roots covered with tan, to keep them moist. Green squashes that are turning yellow, and striped squashes, are more uniformly sweet and mealy than any other kind. If the tops of lettuce be cut off when it is becoming too old for use, it will grow up again fresh and tender, and may thus be kept good through the summer. It is a good plan to boil onions in milk and water; it diminishes the strong taste of that vegetable. It is an excellent way of serving up onions, to chop them after they are boiled, and put them in a stewpan, with a little milk, butter, salt, and pepper, and let them stew about fifteen minutes. This gives them a fine flavor, and they can be served up very hot. * * * * * HERBS. All herbs should be carefully kept from the air. Herb tea, to do any good, should be made _very strong_. Herbs should be gathered while in blossom. If left till they have gone to seed, the strength goes into the seed. Those who have a little patch of ground, will do well to raise the most important herbs; and those who have not, will do well to get them in quantities from some friend in the country; for apothecaries make very great profit upon them. Sage is very useful both as a medicine, for the headache--when made into tea--and for all kinds of stuffing, when dried and rubbed into powder. It should be kept tight from the air. Summer-savory is excellent to season soup, broth, and sausages. As a medicine, it relieves the cholic. Pennyroyal and tansy are good for the same medicinal purpose. Green wormwood bruised is excellent for a fresh wound of any kind. In winter, when wormwood is dry, it is necessary to soften it in warm vinegar, or spirit, before it is bruised, and applied to the wound. Hyssop tea is good for sudden colds, and disorders on the lungs. It is necessary to be very careful about exposure after taking it; it is peculiarly opening to the pores. Tea made of colt's-foot and flax-seed, sweetened with honey, is a cure for inveterate coughs. Consumptions have been prevented by it. It should be drank when going to bed; though it does good to drink it at any time. Hoarhound is useful in consumptive complaints. Motherwort tea is very quieting to the nerves. Students, and people troubled with wakefulness, find it useful. Thoroughwort is excellent for dyspepsy, and every disorder occasioned by indigestion. If the stomach be foul, it operates like a gentle emetic. Sweet-balm tea is cooling when one is in a feverish state. Catnip, particularly the blossoms, made into tea, is good to prevent a threatened fever. It produces a fine perspiration. It should be taken in bed, and the patient kept warm. Housekeepers should always dry leaves of the burdock and horseradish. Burdocks warmed in vinegar, with the hard, stalky parts cut out, are very soothing, applied to the feet; they produce a sweet and gentle perspiration. Horseradish is more powerful. It is excellent in cases of the ague, placed on the part affected. Warmed in vinegar, and clapped. Succory is a very valuable herb. The tea, sweetened with molasses, is good for the piles. It is a gentle and healthy physic, a preventive of dyspepsy, humors, inflammation, and all the evils resulting from a restricted state of the system. Elder-blow tea has a similar effect. It is cool and soothing, and peculiarly efficacious either for babes or grown people, when the digestive powers are out of order. Lungwort, maiden-hair, hyssop, elecampane and hoarhound steeped together, is an almost certain cure for a cough. A wine-glass full to be taken when going to bed. Few people know how to keep the flavor of sweet-marjoram; the best of all herbs for broth and stuffing. It should be gathered in bud or blossom, and dried in a tin-kitchen at a moderate distance from the fire; when dry, it should be immediately rubbed, sifted, and corked up in a bottle carefully. English-mallows steeped in milk is good for the dysentery. * * * * * CHEAP DYE-STUFFS. A few general rules are necessary to be observed in coloring. The materials should be perfectly clean; soap should be rinsed out in soft water; the article should be entirely wetted, or it will spot; light colors should be steeped in brass, tin, or earthen; and if set at all, should be set with alum. Dark colors should be boiled in iron, and set with copperas. Too much copperas rots the thread. The apothecaries and hatters keep a compound of vitriol and indigo, commonly called 'blue composition.' An ounce vial full may be bought for nine-pence. It colors a fine blue. It is an economical plan to use it for old silk linings, ribbons, &c. The original color should be boiled out, and the material thoroughly rinsed in soft water, so that no soap may remain in it; for soap ruins the dye. Twelve or sixteen drops of the blue composition, poured into a quart bowl full of warm soft water, stirred, (and strained, if any settlings are perceptible,) will color a great many articles. If you wish a deep blue, pour in more of the compound. Cotton must not be colored; the vitriol destroys it; if the material you wish to color has cotton threads in it, it will be ruined. After the things are thoroughly dried, they should be washed in cool suds, and dried again; this prevents any bad effects from the vitriol; if shut up from the air without being washed, there is danger of the texture being destroyed. If you wish to color green, have your cloth free as possible from the old color, clean, and rinsed, and, in the first place, color it a deep yellow. Fustic boiled in soft water makes the strongest and brightest yellow dye; but saffron, barberry bush, peach leaves, or onion skins, will answer pretty well. Next take a bowl full of strong yellow dye, and pour in a great spoonful or more of the blue composition. Stir it up well with a clean stick, and dip the articles you have already colored yellow into it, and they will take a lively grass green. This is a good plan for old bombazet curtains, dessert cloths, old flannel for covering a desk, &c; it is likewise a handsome color for ribbons. Balm blossoms, steeped in water, color a pretty rose-color. This answers very well for the linings of children's bonnets, for ribbons, &c. It fades in the course of one season; but it is very little trouble to recolor with it. It merely requires to be steeped and strained. Perhaps a small piece of alum might serve to set the color, in some degree. In earthen or tin. Saffron, steeped in earthen and strained, colors a fine straw color. It makes a delicate or deep shade according to the strength of the tea. The dry outside skins of onions, steeped in scalding water and strained, color a yellow very much like 'bird of paradise' color. Peach leaves, or bark scraped from the barberry bush, colors a common bright yellow. In all these cases, a little piece of alum does no harm, and may help to fix the color. Ribbons, gauze handkerchiefs, &c. are colored well in this way, especially if they be stiffened by a bit of gum-Arabic, dropped in while the stuff is steeping. The purple paper, which comes on loaf sugar, boiled in cider, or vinegar, with a small bit of alum, makes a fine purple slate color. Done in iron. White maple bark makes a good light-brown slate color. This should be boiled in water, set with alum. The color is reckoned better when boiled in brass, instead of iron. The purple slate and the brown slate are suitable colors for stockings; and it is an economical plan, after they have been mended and cut down, so that they will no longer look decent, to color old stockings, and make them up for children. A pailful of lye, with a piece of copperas half as big as a hen's egg boiled in it, will color a fine nankin color, which will never wash out. This is very useful for the linings of bed-quilts, comforters, &c. Old faded gowns, colored in this way, may be made into good petticoats. Cheap cotton cloth may be colored to advantage for petticoats, and pelisses for little girls. A very beautiful nankin color may likewise be obtained from birch-bark, set with alum. The bark should be covered with water, and boiled thoroughly in brass or tin. A bit of alum half as big as a hen's egg is sufficient. If copperas be used instead of alum, slate color will be produced. Tea-grounds boiled in iron, and set with copperas, make a very good slate color. Log-wood and cider, in iron, set with copperas, makes a good black. Rusty nails, or any rusty iron, boiled in vinegar, with a small bit of copperas, makes a good black,--black ink-powder done in the same way answers the same purpose. * * * * * MEAT CORNED, OR SALTED, HAMS, &C. When you merely want to corn meat, you have nothing to do but to rub in salt plentifully, and let it set in the cellar a day or two. If you have provided more meat than you can use while it is good, it is well to corn it in season to save it. In summer, it will not keep well more than a day and a half; if you are compelled to keep it longer, be sure and rub in more salt, and keep it carefully covered from cellar-flies. In winter, there is no difficulty in keeping a piece of corned beef a fortnight or more. Some people corn meat by throwing it into their beef barrel for a few days; but this method does not make it so sweet. A little salt-petre rubbed in before you apply the common salt, makes the meat tender; but in summer it is not well to use it, because it prevents the other salt from impregnating; and the meat does not keep as well. If you wish to salt fat pork, scald coarse salt in water and skim it, till the salt will no longer melt in the water. Pack your pork down in tight layers; salt every layer; when the brine is cool, cover the pork with it, and keep a heavy stone on the top to keep the pork under brine. Look to it once in a while, for the first few weeks, and if the salt has all melted, throw in more. This brine, scalded and skimmed every time it is used, will continue good twenty years. The rind of the pork should be packed towards the edge of the barrel. It is good economy to salt your own beef as well as pork. Six pounds of coarse salt, eight ounces of brown sugar, a pint of molasses, and eight ounces of salt-petre, are enough to boil in four gallons of water. Skim it clean while boiling. Put it to the beef cold; have enough to cover it; and be careful your beef never floats on the top. If it does not smell perfectly sweet, throw in more salt; if a scum rises upon it, scald and skim it again, and pour it on the beef when cold. Legs of mutton are very good, cured in the same way as ham. Six pounds of salt, eight ounces of salt-petre, and five pints of molasses, will make pickle enough for one hundred weight. Small legs should be kept in pickle twelve or fifteen days; if large, four or five weeks are not too much. They should be hung up a day or two to dry, before they are smoked. Lay them in the oven, on crossed sticks, and make a fire at the entrance. Cobs, walnut-bark, or walnut-chips, are the best to use for smoking, on account of the sweet taste they give the meat. The smallest pieces should be smoked forty-eight hours, and large legs four or five days. Some people prefer the mutton boiled as soon as it is taken from the pickle, before it is smoked; others hang it up till it gets dry thoroughly, and eat it in thin slices, like hung beef. When legs of meat are put in pickle, the thickest part of the leg should be placed uppermost, that is, standing upright, the same as the creature stood when living. The same rule should be observed when they are hung up to dry; it is essential in order to keep in the juices of the meat. Meat should be turned over once or twice during the process of smoking. The old-fashioned way for curing hams is to rub them with salt very thoroughly, and let them lay twenty-four hours. To each ham allow two ounces of salt-petre, one quart of common salt and one quart of molasses. First baste them with molasses; next rub in the salt-petre; and, last of all, the common salt. They must be carefully turned and rubbed every day for six weeks; then hang them in a chimney, or smoke-house, four weeks. They should be well covered up in paper bags, and put in a chest, or barrel, with layers of ashes, or charcoal, between. When you take out a ham to cut for use, be sure and put it away in a dark place, well covered up; especially in summer. Some very experienced epicures and cooks, think the old-fashioned way of preparing bacon is troublesome and useless. They say that legs of pork placed upright in pickle, for four or five weeks, are just as nice as those rubbed with so much care. The pickle for pork and hung beef, should be stronger than for legs of mutton. Eight pounds of salt, ten ounces of salt-petre and five pints of molasses is enough for one hundred weight of meat; water enough to cover the meat well--probably, four or five gallons. Any one can prepare bacon, or dried beef, very easily, in a common oven, according to the above directions. The same pickle that answers for bacon is proper for neat's tongues. Pigs' tongues are very nice, prepared in the same way as neat's tongues; an abundance of them are sold for rein-deer's tongues, and, under that name, considered a wonderful luxury. Neat's tongue should be boiled full three hours. If it has been in salt long, it is well to soak it over night in cold water. Put it in to boil when the water is cold. If you boil it in a small pot, it is well to change the water, when it has boiled an hour and a half; the fresh water should boil before the half-cooked tongue is put in again. It is nicer for being kept in a cool place a day or two after being boiled. Nearly the same rules apply to salt beef. A six pound piece of corned beef should boil full three hours; and salt beef should be boiled four hours. The saltier meat is, the longer it should be boiled. If very salt, it is well to put it in soak over night; change the water while cooking; and observe the same rules as in boiling tongue. If it is intended to be eaten when cold, it is a good plan to put it between clean boards, and press it down with heavy weights for a day or two. A small leg of bacon should be boiled three hours; ten pounds four hours; twelve pounds five hours. All meat should boil moderately; furious boiling injures the flavor. Buffalo's tongue should soak a day and a night, and boil as much as six hours. * * * * * CHOICE OF MEAT. If people wish to be economical, they should take some pains to ascertain what are the cheapest pieces of meat to buy; not merely those which are cheapest in price, but those which go farthest when cooked. That part of mutton called the rack, which consists of the neck, and a few of the rib bones below, is cheap food. It is not more than four or five cents a pound; and four pounds will make a dinner for six people. The neck, cut into pieces, and boiled slowly an hour and a quarter, in little more than water enough to cover it, makes very nice broth. A great spoonful of rice should be washed and thrown in with the meat. About twenty minutes before it is done, put in a little thickening, and season with salt, pepper, and sifted summer-savory, or sage. The bones below the neck, broiled, make a good mutton chop. If your family be small, a rack of mutton will make you two dinners,--broth once, and mutton chop with a few slices of salt pork, for another; if your family consist of six or seven, you can have two dishes for a dinner. If you boil the whole rack for broth, there will be some left for mince meat. Liver is usually much despised; but when well cooked, it is very palatable; and it is the cheapest of all animal food. Veal liver is by some considered the best. Veal liver is usually two cents a pound; beef liver is one cent. After you have fried a few slices of salt pork, put the liver in while the fat is very hot, and cook it through thoroughly. If you doubt whether it be done, cut into a slice, and see whether it has turned entirely brown, without any red stripe in the middle. Season it with pepper and salt, and butter, if you live on a farm, and have butter in plenty. It should not be cooked on furiously hot coals, as it is very apt to scorch. Sprinkle in a little flour, stir it, and pour in boiling water to make gravy, just as you would for fried meat. Some think liver is better dipped in sifted Indian meal before it is fried. It is good broiled and buttered like a steak. It should be cut into slices about as thick as are cut for steaks. The heart, liver, &c. of a pig is good fried; so is that of a lamb. The latter is commonly called lamb-fry; and a dinner may be bought for six or eight cents. Be sure and ask for the sweet-bread; for butchers are extremely apt to reserve it for their own use; and therefore lamb-fry is almost always sold without it. Fry five or six slices of salt pork; after it is taken out, put in your lamb-fry while the fat is hot. Do it thoroughly; but be careful the fire is not too furious, as it is apt to scorch. Take a large handful of parsley, see that it is washed clean, cut it up pretty fine; then pour a little boiling water into the fat in which your dinner has been fried, and let the parsley cook in it a minute or two; then take it out in a spoon, and lay it over your slices of meat. Some people, who like thick gravies, shake in a little flour into the spider, before pouring in the boiling water. Bones from which roasting pieces have been cut, may be bought in the market for ten or twelve cents, from which a very rich soup may be made, besides skimming off fat for shortening. If the bones left from the rump be bought, they will be found full of marrow, and will give more than a pint of good shortening, without injuring the richness of the soup. The richest piece of beef for a soup is the leg and the shin of beef; the leg is on the hind quarter, and the shin is on the fore quarter. The leg rand, that is, the thick part of the leg above the bony parts, is very nice for mince pies. Some people have an objection to these parts of beef, thinking they must be stringy; but, if boiled _very tender_, the sinews are not perceived, and add, in fact, to the richness of a soup. The thick part of a thin flank is the most profitable part in the whole ox to buy. It is not so handsome in appearance as some other pieces, but it is thick meat, with very little bone, and is usually two cents less in the pound than more fashionable pieces. It is good for roasting, and particularly for corning and salting. The navel end of the brisket is one of the best pieces for salting or corning, and is very good for roasting. The rattle rand is the very best piece for corning, or salting. A bullock's heart is very profitable to use as a steak. Broiled just like beef. There are usually five pounds in a heart, and it can be bought for twenty-five cents. Some people stuff and roast it. The chuck, between the neck and the shoulder, is a very good piece for roasting,--for steaks, or for salting. Indeed, it is good for almost anything; and it is cheap, being from four to five cents a pound. The richest, tenderest, and most delicate piece of beef for roasting, or for steak, is the rump and the last cut of the sirloin. It is peculiarly appropriate for an invalid, as it is lighter food than any other beef. But if economy be consulted instead of luxury, the round will be bought in preference to the rump. It is heartier food, and, of course, less can be eaten; and it is cheaper in price. The shoulder of veal is the most economical for roasting or boiling. It is always cheap, let veal bear what price it may. Two dinners may be made from it; the shoulder roasted, and the knuckle cut off to be boiled with a bit of pork and greens, or to be made into soup. The breast of veal is a favorite piece, and is sold high. The hind-quarter of veal and the loin make two good roasting pieces. The leg is usually stuffed. The line has the kidney upon it; the fore-quarter has the brisket on it. This is a sweet and delicate morsel; for this reason some people prefer the fore-quarter to any other part. Always buy a shoulder of pork for economy, for roasting, or coming to boil. Cut off the leg to be boiled. Many people buy the upper part of the spare-rib of pork thinking it the most genteel; but the lower part of the spare-rib toward the neck is much more sweet and juicy, and there is more meat in proportion to the bone. The breast, or shoulder, of mutton are both nice, either for roasting, boiling or broth. The breast is richer than the shoulder. It is more economical to buy a fore-quarter of mutton than a hind-quarter; there is usually two cents difference per pound. The neck of fat mutton makes a good steak for broiling. Lamb brings the same price, either fore-quarter or hind-quarter; therefore it is more profitable to buy a hind-quarter than a fore-quarter; especially as its own fat will cook it, and there is no need of pork or butter in addition. Either part is good for roasting or boiling. The loin of lamb is suitable for roasting, and is the most profitable for a small family. The leg is more suitable for boiling than for anything else; the shoulder and breast are peculiarly suitable for broth. The part that in lamb is called the loin, in mutton is called the chop. Mutton chop is considered very good for broiling. Pig's head is a profitable thing to buy. It is despised, because it is cheap; but when well cooked it is delicious. Well cleaned, the tip of the snout chopped off, and put in brine a week, it is very good for boiling: the cheeks, in particular, are very sweet; they are better than any other pieces of pork to bake with beans. The head is likewise very good baked about an hour and a half. It tastes like roast pork, and yields abundance of sweet fat, for shortening. * * * * * COMMON COOKING. It is necessary to be very careful of fresh meat in the summer season. The moment it is brought into the house, it should be carefully covered from the flies, and put in the coldest place in the cellar. If it consist of pieces, they should be spread out separate from each other, on a large dish, and covered. If you are not to cook it soon, it is well to sprinkle salt on it. The kidney, and fat flabby parts, should be raised up above the lean, by a skewer, or stick, and a little salt strewn in. If you have to keep it over night, it should be looked to the last thing when you go to bed; and if there is danger, it should be scalded. VEAL. Veal should boil about an hour, if a neck-piece; if the meat comes from a thicker, more solid part, it should boil longer. No directions about these things will supply the place of judgment and experience. Both mutton and veal are better for being boiled with a small piece of salt pork. Veal broth is very good. Veal soup should be slowly stewed for two hours. Seasoned the same as above. Some people like a little sifted summer-savory. Six or seven pounds of veal will roast in an hour and a half. Fried veal is better for being dipped in white of egg, and rolled in nicely pounded crumbs of bread, before it is cooked. One egg is enough for a common dinner. CALF'S HEAD. Calf's head should be cleansed with very great care; particularly the lights. The head, the heart, and the lights should boil full two hours; the liver should be boiled only one hour. It is better to leave the wind-pipe on, for if it hangs out of the pot while the head is cooking, all the froth will escape through it. The brains, after being thoroughly washed, should be put in a little bag; with one pounded cracker, or as much crumbled bread, seasoned with sifted sage, and tied up and boiled one hour. After the brains are boiled, they should be well broken up with a knife, and peppered, salted, and buttered. They should be put upon the table in a bowl by themselves. Boiling water, thickened with flour and water, with butter melted in it, is the proper sauce; some people love vinegar and pepper mixed with the melted butter; but all are not fond of it; and it is easy for each one to add it for themselves. BEEF. Beef soup should be stewed four hours over a slow fire. Just water enough to keep the meat covered. If you have any bones left of roast meat, &c. it is a good plan to boil them with the meat, and take them out half an hour before the soup is done. A pint of flour and water, with salt, pepper, twelve or sixteen onions, should be put in twenty minutes before the soup is done. Be careful and not throw in salt and pepper too plentifully; it is easy to add to it, and not easy to diminish. A lemon, cut up and put in half an hour before it is done, adds to the flavor. If you have tomato catsup in the house, a cupful will make soup rich. Some people put in crackers; some thin slices of crust, made nearly as short as common shortcake; and some stir up two or three eggs with milk and flour, and drop it in with a spoon. A quarter of an hour to each pound of beef is considered a good rule for roasting; but this is too much when the bone is large, and the meal thin. Six pounds of the rump should roast six quarters of an hour; but bony pieces less. It should be done before a quick fire. The quicker beef-steak can be broiled the better. Seasoned after it is taken from the gridiron. ALAMODE BEEF. Tie up a round of beef so as to keep it in shape; make a stuffing of grated bread, suet, sweet herbs, quarter of an ounce of nutmeg, a few cloves pounded, yolk of an egg. Cut holes in the beef, and put in the stuffing, leaving about half the stuffing to be made into balls. Tie the beef up in a cloth, just cover it with water, let it boil an hour and a half; then turn it, and let it boil an hour and a half more; then turn out the liquor, and put some skewers across the bottom of the pot, and lay the beef upon it, to brown; turn it that it may brown on both sides. Put a pint of claret, and some allspice and cloves, into the liquor, and boil some balls made of the stuffing in it. MUTTON AND LAMB. Six or seven pounds of mutton will roast in an hour and a half. Lamb one hour. Mutton is apt to taste strong; this may be helped by soaking the meat in a little salt and water, for an hour before cooking. However, unless meat is very sweet, it is best to corn it, and boil it. Fresh meat should never be put in to cook till the water boils; and it should be boiled in as little water as possible; otherwise the flavor is injured. Mutton enough for a family of five or six should boil an hour and a half. A leg of lamb should boil an hour, or little more than an hour, perhaps. Put a little thickening into boiling water; strain it nicely; and put sweet butter in it for sauce. If your family like broth, throw in some clear rice when you put in the meat. The rice should be in proportion to the quantity of broth you mean to make. A large table spoonful is enough for three pints of water. Seasoned with a very little pepper and salt. Summer-savory, or sage, rubbed through a sieve, thrown in. PORK. Fresh pork should be cooked more than any other meat. A thick shoulder piece should be roasted full two hours and a half; and other pieces less in proportion. The slight sickness occasioned by eating roasted pork may be prevented by soaking it in salt and water the night before you cook it. If called to prepare it on short notice, it will answer to baste it with weak brine while roasting; and then turn the brine off, and throw it away. ROAST PIG. Strew fine salt over it an hour before it is put down. It should not be cut entirely open; fill it up plump with thick slices of buttered bread, salt, sweet-marjoram and sage. Spit it with the head next the point of the spit; take off the joints of the leg, and boil them with the liver, with a little whole pepper, allspice, and salt, for gravy sauce. The upper part of the legs must be braced down with skewers. Shake on flour. Put a little water in the dripping-pan, and stir it often. When the eyes drop out, the pig is half done. When it is nearly done, baste it with butter. Cut off the head, split it open between the eyes. Take out the brains, and chop them fine with the liver and some sweet-marjoram and sage; put this into melted butter, and when it has boiled a few minutes, add it to the gravy in the dripping-pan. When your pig is cut open, lay it with the back to the edge of the dish; half a head to be placed at each end. A good sized pig needs to be roasted three hours. SAUSAGES. Three tea-spoons of powdered sage, one and a half of salt, and one of pepper, to a pound of meat, is good seasoning for sausages. MINCE MEAT. There is a great difference in preparing mince meat. Some make it a coarse, unsavory dish; and others make it nice and palatable. No economical house-keeper will despise it; for broken bits of meat and vegetables cannot so well be disposed of in any other way. If you wish to have it nice, mash your vegetables fine, and chop your meat very fine. Warm it with what remains of sweet gravy, or roast-meat drippings, you may happen to have. Two or three apples, pared, cored, sliced, and fried, to mix with it, is an improvement. Some like a little sifted sage sprinkled in. It is generally considered nicer to chop your meat fine, warm it in gravy, season it, and lay it upon a large slice of toasted bread to be brought upon the table without being mixed with potatoes; but if you have cold vegetables, use them. BEANS AND PEAS. Baked beans are a very simple dish, yet few cook them well. They should be put in cold water, and hung over the fire, the night before they are baked. In the morning, they should be put in a colander, and rinsed two or three times; then again placed in a kettle, with the pork you intend to bake, covered with water, and kept scalding hot, an hour or more. A pound of pork is quite enough for a quart of beans, and that is a large dinner for a common family. The rind of the pork should be slashed. Pieces of pork alternately fat and lean, are the most suitable; the cheeks are the best. A little pepper sprinkled among the beans, when they are placed in the bean-pot, will render them less unhealthy. They should be just covered with water, when put into the oven; and the pork should be sunk a little below the surface of the beans. Bake three or four hours. Stewed beans are prepared in the same way. The only difference is, they are not taken out of the scalding water, but are allowed to stew in more water, with a piece of pork and a little pepper, three hours or more. Dried peas need not be soaked over night. They should be stewed slowly four or five hours in considerable water, with a piece of pork. The older beans and peas are, the longer they should cook. Indeed, this is the case with all vegetables. SOUSE. Pigs' feet, ears, &c., should be cleaned after being soaked in water not very hot; the hoofs will then come off easily with a sharp knife; the hard, rough places should be cut off; they should be thoroughly singed, and then boiled as much as four or five hours, until they are too tender to be taken out with a fork. When taken from the boiling water, it should be put into cold water. After it is packed down tight, boil the jelly-like liquor in which it was cooked with an equal quantity of vinegar; salt as you think fit, and cloves, allspice, and cinnamon, at the rate of a quarter of a pound to one hundred weight: to be poured on scalding hot. TRIPE. Tripe should be kept in cold water, or it will become too dry for cooking. The water in which it is kept should be changed more or less frequently, according to the warmth of the weather. Broiled like a steak, buttered, peppered, &c. Some people like it prepared like souse. GRAVY. Most people put a half a pint of flour and water into their tin-kitchen, when they set meat down to roast. This does very well; but gravy is better flavored, and looks darker, to shake flour and salt upon the meat; let it brown thoroughly, put flour and salt on again, and then baste the meat with about half a pint of hot water (or more, according to the gravy you want.) When the meat is about done, pour these drippings into a skillet, and let it boil. If it is not thick enough, shake in a little flour; but be sure to let it boil, and be well stirred, after the flour is in. If you fear it will be too greasy, take off a cupful of the fat before you boil. The fat of beef, pork, turkeys and geese is as good for shortening as lard. Salt gravy to your taste. If you are very particular about dark gravies, keep your dredging-box full of scorched flour for that purpose. POULTRY. There are various ways of deciding about the age of poultry. If the bottom of the breast bone, which extends down between the legs, is soft, and gives easily, it is a sign of youth; if stiff, the poultry is old. If young, the legs are lighter, and the feet do not look so hard, stiff, and worn. There is more deception in geese than in any other kind of poultry. The above remarks are applied to them; but there are other signs more infallible. In a young goose, the cavity under the wings is very tender; it is a bad sign if you cannot, with very little trouble, push your finger directly into the flesh. There is another means by which you may decide whether a goose be tender, if it be frozen or not. Pass the head of a pin along the breast, or sides, and if the goose be young, the skin will rip, like fine paper under a knife. Something may be judged concerning the age of a goose by the thickness of the web between the toes. When young, this is tender and transparent; it grows coarser and harder with time. In broiling chickens, it is difficult to do the inside of the thickest pieces without scorching the outside. It is a good plan to parboil them about ten minutes in a spider or skillet, covered close to keep the steam in; then put them upon the gridiron, broil and butter. It is a good plan to cover them with a plate, while on the gridiron. They may be basted with a very little of the water in which they were broiled; and if you have company who like melted butter to pour upon the chicken, the remainder of the liquor will be good use for that purpose. An hour is enough for common sized chickens to roast. A smart fire is better than a slow one; but they must be tended closely. Slices of bread, buttered, salted, and peppered, put into the stomach (not the crop) are excellent. Chickens should boil about an hour. If old, they should boil longer. In as little water as will cook them. Chicken-broth made like mutton-broth. FRICASSEED CHICKEN, BROWN. Singe the chickens; cut them in pieces; pepper, salt, and flour them; fry them in fresh butter, till they are very brown: take the chickens out, and make a good gravy, into which put sweet herbs (marjoram or sage) according to your taste; if necessary, add pepper and salt; butter and flour must be used in making the gravy, in such quantities as to suit yourself for thickness and richness. After this is all prepared, the chicken must be stewed in it, for half an hour, closely covered. A pint of gravy is about enough for two chickens; I should think a piece of butter about as big as a walnut, and a table-spoonful of flour, would be enough for the gravy. The herbs should, of course, be pounded and sifted. Some, who love onions, slice two or three, and brown them with the chicken. Some slice a half lemon, and stew with the chicken. Some add tomatoes catsup. FRICASSEED CHICKEN, WHITE. The chickens are cut to pieces, and covered with warm water, to draw out the blood. Then put into a stew-pan, with three quarters of a pint of water, or veal broth, salt, pepper, flour, butter, mace, sweet herbs pounded and sifted; boil it half an hour. If it is too fat, skim it a little. Just before it is done, mix the yolk of two eggs with a gill of cream, grate in a little nutmeg, stir it up till it is thick and smooth, squeeze in half a lemon. If you like onions, stew some slices with the other ingredients. TO CURRY FOWL. Fry out two or three slices of salt pork; cut the chicken in pieces, and lay it in the stew-pan with one sliced onion; when the fowl is tender, take it out, and put in thickening into the liquor, one spoonful of flour, and one spoonful of curry-powder, well stirred up in water. Then lay the chicken in again, and let it boil up a few minutes. A half a pint of liquor is enough for one chicken. About half an hour's stewing is necessary. The juice of half a lemon improves it; and some like a spoonful of tomatoes catsup. CHICKEN BROTH. Cut a chicken in quarters; put it into three or four quarts of water; put in a cup of rice while the water is cold; season it with pepper and salt; some use nutmeg. Let it stew gently, until the chicken falls apart. A little parsley, shred fine, is an improvement. Some slice up a small onion and stew with it. A few pieces of cracker may be thrown in if you like. A common sized goose should roast full three quarters of an hour. The oil that drips from it should be nearly all turned off; it makes the gravy too greasy; and it is nice for shortening. It should first be turned into cold water; when hardened, it should be taken off and scalded in a skillet. This process leaves it as sweet as lard. Ducks do not need to be roasted more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Butter melted in boiling flour and water is proper sauce for boiled lamb, mutton, veal, turkeys, geese, chickens, and fish. Some people cut up parsley fine, and throw in. Some people like capers put in. Others heat oysters through on the gridiron, and take them out of the shells, and throw them into the butter. A good sized turkey should be roasted two hours and a half, or three hours; very slowly at first. If you wish to make plain stuffing, pound a cracker, or crumble some bread very fine, chop some raw salt pork very fine, sift some sage, (and summer-savory, or sweet-marjoram, if you have them in the house, and fancy them,) and mould them all together, seasoned with a little pepper. An egg worked in makes the stuffing cut better; but it is not worth while when eggs are dear. About the same length of time is required for boiling and roasting. Pigeons may be either roasted, potted or stewed. Potting is the best, and the least trouble. After they are thoroughly picked and cleaned, put a small slice of salt pork, and a little ball of stuffing, into the body of every pigeon. The stuffing should be made of one egg to one cracker, an equal quantity of suet, or butter, seasoned with sweet-marjoram, or sage, if marjoram cannot be procured. Flour the pigeons well, lay them close together in the bottom of the pot, just cover them with water, throw in a bit of butter, and let them stew an hour and a quarter if young; an hour and three quarters if old. Some people turn off the liquor just before they are done, and brown the pigeons on the bottom of the pot; but this is very troublesome, as they are apt to break to pieces. Stewed pigeons are cooked in nearly the same way, with the omission of the stuffing. Being dry meat, they require a good deal of butter. Pigeons should be stuffed and roasted about fifteen minutes before a smart fire. Those who like birds just warmed through, would perhaps think less time necessary. It makes them nicer to butter them well just before you take them off the spit, and sprinkle them with nicely pounded bread, or cracker. All poultry should be basted and floured a few minutes before it is taken up. The age of pigeons can be judged by the color of the legs. When young, they are of a pale delicate brown; as they grow older, the color is deeper and redder. A nice way of serving up cold chicken, or pieces of cold fresh meat, is to make them into a meat pie. The gizzards, livers, and necks of poultry, parboiled, are good for the same purpose. If you wish to bake your meat pie, line a deep earthen or tin pan with paste made of flour, cold water, and lard; use but little lard, for the fat of the meat will shorten the crust. Lay in your bits of meat, or chicken, with two or three slices of salt pork; place a few thin slices of your paste here and there; drop in an egg or two, if you have plenty. Fill the pan with flour and water, seasoned with a little pepper and salt. If the meat be very lean, put in a piece of butter, or such sweet gravies as you may happen to have. Cover the top with crust, and put it in the oven, or bake-kettle, to cook half an hour, or an hour, according to the size of the pie. Some people think this the nicest way of cooking fresh chickens. When thus cooked, they should be parboiled before they are put into the pan, and the water they are boiled in should be added. A chicken pie needs to be cooked an hour and a half, if parboiled; two hours, if not. If you wish to make a pot pie instead of a baked pie, you have only to line the bottom of a porridge pot with paste, lay in your meat, season and moisten it in the same way, cover it with paste, and keep it slowly stewing about the same time that the other takes. In both cases, it is well to lift the upper crust, a little while before you take up the pie, and see whether the moisture has dried away; if so, pour in flour and water well mixed, and let it boil up. Potatoes should be boiled in a separate vessel. If you have fear that poultry may become musty before you want to cook it, skin an onion, and put in it; a little pepper sprinkled in is good; it should be kept hung up in a dry, cool place. If poultry is injured before you are aware of it, wash it very thoroughly in pearlash and water, and sprinkle pepper inside when you cook it. Some people hang up poultry with a muslin bag of charcoal inside. It is a good plan to singe injured poultry over lighted charcoal, and to hold a piece of lighted charcoal inside, a few minutes. Many people parboil the liver and gizzard, and cut it up very fine, to be put into the gravy, while the fowls are cooking; in this case, the water they are boiled in should be used to make the gravy. FISH. Cod has white stripes, and a haddock black stripes; they may be known apart by this. Haddock is the best for frying; and cod is the best for boiling, or for a chowder. A thin tail is a sign of a poor fish; always choose a thick fish. When you are buying mackerel, pinch the belly to ascertain whether it is good. If it gives under your finger, like a bladder half filled with wind, the fish is poor; if it feels hard like butter, the fish is good. It is cheaper to buy one large mackerel for ninepence, than two for four pence half-penny each. Fish should not be put in to fry until the fat is boiling hot; it is very necessary to observe this. It should be dipped in Indian meal before it is put in; and the skinny side uppermost, when first put in, to prevent its breaking. It relishes better to be fried after salt pork, than to be fried in lard alone. People are mistaken, who think fresh fish should be put into cold water as soon as it is brought into the house; soaking it in water is injurious. If you want to keep it sweet, clean it, wash it, wipe it dry with a clean towel, sprinkle salt inside and out, put it in a covered dish, and keep it on the _cellar_ floor until you want to cook it. If you live remote from the seaport, and cannot get fish while hard and fresh, wet it with an egg beaten, before you meal it, to prevent its breaking. Fish gravy is very much improved by taking out some of the fat, after the fish is fried, and putting in a little butter. The fat thus taken out will do to fry fish again; but it will not do for any kind of shortening. Shake in a little flour into the hot fat, and pour in a little boiling water; stir it up well, as it boils, a minute or so. Some people put in vinegar; but this is easily added by those who like it. A common sized cod-fish should be put in when the water is boiling hot, and boil about twenty minutes. Haddock is not as good for boiling as cod; it takes about the same time to boil. A piece of halibut which weighs four pounds is a large dinner for a family of six or seven. It should boil forty minutes. No fish put in till the water boils. Melted butter for sauce. Clams should boil about fifteen minutes in their own water; no other need be added, except a spoonful to keep the bottom shells from burning. It is easy to tell when they are done, by the shells starting wide open. After they are done, they should be taken from the shells, washed thoroughly in their own water, and put in a stewing pan. The water should then be strained through a cloth, so as to get out all the grit; the clams should be simmered in it ten or fifteen minutes; a little thickening of flour and water added; half a dozen slices of toasted bread or cracker; and pepper, vinegar and butter to your taste. Salt is not needed. Four pounds of fish are enough to make a chowder for four or five people; half a dozen slices of salt pork in the bottom of the pot; hang it high, so that the pork may not burn; take it out when done very brown; put in a layer of fish, cut in lengthwise slices, then a layer formed of crackers, small or sliced onions, and potatoes sliced as thin as a four-pence, mixed with pieces of pork you have fried; then a layer of fish again, and so on. Six crackers are enough. Strew a little salt and pepper over each layer; over the whole pour a bowl-full of flour and water, enough to come up even with the surface of what you have in the pot. A sliced lemon adds to the flavor. A cup of tomato catsup is very excellent. Some people put in a cup of beer. A few clams are a pleasant addition. It should be covered so as not to let a particle of steam escape, if possible. Do not open it, except when nearly done, to taste if it be well seasoned. Salt fish should be put in a deep plate, with just water enough to cover it, the night before you intend to cook it. It should not be boiled an instant; boiling renders it hard. It should lie in scalding hot water two or three hours. The less water is used, and the more fish is cooked at once, the better. Water thickened with flour and water while boiling, with sweet butter put in to melt, is the common sauce. It is more economical to cut salt pork into small bits, and try it till the pork is brown and crispy. It should not be done too fast, lest the sweetness be scorched out. Salted shad and mackerel should be put into a deep plate and covered with boiling water for about ten minutes after it is thoroughly broiled, before it is buttered. This makes it tender, takes off the coat of salt, and prevents the strong oily taste, so apt to be unpleasant in preserved fish. The same rule applies to smoked salmon. Salt fish mashed with potatoes, with good butter or pork scraps to moisten it, is nicer the second day than it was the first. The fish should be minced very fine, while it is warm. After it has got cold and dry, it is difficult to do it nicely. Salt fish needs plenty of vegetables, such as onions, beets, carrots, &c. There is no way of preparing salt fish for breakfast, so nice as to roll it up in little balls, after it is mixed with mashed potatoes; dip it into an egg, and fry it brown. A female lobster is not considered so good as a male. In the female, the sides of the head, or what look like cheeks, are much larger, and jut out more than those of the male. The end of a lobster is surrounded with what children call 'purses,' edged with a little fringe. If you put your hand under these to raise it, and find it springs back hard and firm, it is a sign the lobster is fresh; if they move flabbily, it is not a good omen. Fried salt pork and apples is a favorite dish in the country; but it is seldom seen in the city. After the pork is fried, some of the fat should be taken out, lest the apples should be oily. Acid apples should be chosen, because they cook more easily; they should be cut in slices, across the whole apple, about twice or three times as thick as a new dollar. Fried till tender, and brown on both sides--laid around the pork. If you have cold potatoes, slice them and brown them in the same way. * * * * * PUDDINGS. BAKED INDIAN PUDDING. Indian pudding is good baked. Scald a quart of milk (skimmed milk will do,) and stir in seven table spoonfuls of sifted Indian meal, a tea-spoonful of salt, a tea-cupful of molasses, and a great spoonful of ginger, or sifted cinnamon. Baked three or four hours. If you want whey, you must be sure and pour in a little cold milk, after it is all mixed. BOILED INDIAN PUDDING. Indian pudding should be boiled four or five hours. Sifted Indian meal and warm milk should be stirred together pretty stiff. A little salt, and two or three great spoonfuls of molasses, added; a spoonful of ginger, if you like that spice. Boil it in a tight covered pan, or a very thick cloth; if the water gets in, it will ruin it. Leave plenty of room; for Indian swells very much. The milk with which you mix it should be merely warm; if it be scalding, the pudding will break to pieces. Some people chop sweet suet fine, and warm in the milk; others warm thin slices of sweet apple to be stirred into the pudding. Water will answer instead of milk. FLOUR OR BATTER PUDDING. Common flour pudding, or batter pudding, is easily made. Those who live in the country can beat up five or six eggs with a quart of milk, and a little salt, with flour enough to make it just thick enough to pour without difficulty. Those who live in the city, and are obliged to buy eggs, can do with three eggs to a quart, and more flour in proportion. Boil about three quarters of an hour. BREAD PUDDING. A nice pudding may be made of bits of bread. They should be crumbled and soaked in milk over night. In the morning, beat up three eggs with it, add a little salt, tie it up in a bag, or in a pan that will exclude every drop of water, and boil it little more than an hour. No puddings should be put into the pot, till the water boils. Bread prepared in the same way makes good plum-puddings. Milk enough to make it quite soft; four eggs; a little cinnamon; a spoonful of rose-water, or lemon-brandy, if you have it; a tea-cupful of molasses, or sugar to your taste, if you prefer it; a few dry, clean raisins, sprinkled in, and stirred up thoroughly, is all that is necessary. It should bake or boil two hours. RENNET PUDDING. If your husband brings home company when you are unprepared, rennet pudding may be made at five minutes' notice; provided you keep a piece of calf's rennet ready prepared soaking in a bottle of wine. One glass of this wine to a quart of milk will make a sort of cold custard. Sweetened with white sugar, and spiced with nutmeg, it is very good. It should be eaten immediately; in a few hours, it begins to curdle. CUSTARD PUDDINGS. Custard puddings sufficiently good for common use can be made with five eggs to a quart of milk, sweetened with brown sugar, and spiced with cinnamon, or nutmeg, and very little salt. It is well to boil your milk, and set it away till it gets cold. Boiling milk enriches it so much, that boiled skim-milk is about as good as new milk. A little cinnamon, or lemon peel, or peach leaves, if you do not dislike the taste, boiled in the milk, and afterwards strained from it, give a pleasant flavor. Bake fifteen or twenty minutes. RICE PUDDINGS. If you want a common rice pudding to retain its flavor, do not soak it, or put it in to boil when the water is cold. Wash it, tie it in a bag, leave plenty of room for it to swell, throw it in when the water boils, and let it boil about an hour and a half. The same sauce answers for all these kinds of puddings. If you have rice left cold, break it up in a little warm milk, pour custard over it, and bake it as long as you should custard. It makes very good puddings and pies. BIRD'S NEST PUDDING. If you wish to make what is called 'bird's nest puddings,' prepare your custard,--take eight or ten pleasant apples, pare them, and dig out the core, but leave them whole, set them in a pudding dish, pour your custard over them, and bake them about thirty minutes. APPLE PUDDING. A plain, unexpensive apple pudding may be made by rolling out a bit of common pie-crust, and filling it full of quartered apples; tied up in a bag, and boiled an hour and a half; if the apples are sweet, it will take two hours; for acid things cook easily. Some people like little dumplings, made by rolling up one apple, pared and cored, in a piece of crust, and tying them up in spots all over the bag. These do not need to be boiled more than an hour: three quarters is enough, if the apples are tender. Take sweet, or pleasant flavored apples, pare them, and bore out the core, without cutting the apple in two Pill up the holes with washed rice, boil them in a bag, tied very tight, an hour, or hour and a half. Each apple should be tied up separately, in different corners of the pudding bag. CHERRY PUDDING. For cherry dumpling, make a paste about as rich as you make short-cake; roll it out, and put in a pint and a half, or a quart of cherries, according to the size of your family. Double the crust over the fruit, tie it up tight in a bag, and boil one hour and a half. CRANBERRY PUDDING. A pint of cranberries stirred into a quart of batter, made like a batter pudding, but very little stiffer, is very nice, eaten with sweet sauce. WHORTLEBERRY PUDDING. Whortleberries are good both in flour and Indian puddings. A pint of milk, with a little salt and a little molasses, stirred quite stiff with Indian meal, and a quart of berries stirred in gradually with a spoon, makes a good-sized pudding. Leave room for it to swell; and let it boil three hours. When you put them into flour, make your pudding just like batter puddings; but considerably thicker, or the berries will sink. Two hours is plenty long enough to boil No pudding should be put in till the water boils. Leave room to swell. PLUM PUDDING. If you wish to make a really nice, soft, custard-like plum pudding, pound six crackers, or dried crusts of light bread, fine, and soak them over night in milk enough to cover them; put them in about three pints of milk, beat up six eggs, put in a little lemon-brandy, a whole nutmeg, and about three quarters of a pound of raisins which have been rubbed in flour. Bake it two hours, or perhaps a little short of that. It is easy to judge from the appearance whether it is done. The surest way of making a light, rich plum pudding, is to spread slices of sweet light bread plentifully with butter; on each side of the slices spread abundantly raisins, or currants, nicely prepared; when they are all heaped up in a dish, cover them with milk, eggs, sugar and spice, well beat up, and prepared just as you do for custards. Let it bake about an hour. One sauce answers for common use for all sorts of puddings. Flour-and-water stirred into boiling water, sweetened to your taste with either molasses or sugar, according to your ideas of economy; a great spoonful of rose-water, if you have it; butter half as big as a hen's egg. If you want to make it very nice, put in a glass of wine, and grate nutmeg on the top. When you wish better sauce than common, take a quarter of a pound of butter and the same of sugar, mould them well together with your hand, add a little wine, if you choose. Make it into a lump, set it away to cool, and grate nutmeg over it. HASTY PUDDING. Boil water, a quart, three pints, or two quarts, according to the size of your family; sift your meal, stir five or six spoonfuls of it thoroughly into a bowl of water; when the water in the kettle boils, pour into it the contents of the bowl; stir it well, and let it boil up thick; put in salt to suit your own taste, then stand over the kettle, and sprinkle in meal, handful after handful, stirring it very thoroughly all the time, and letting it boil between whiles. When it is so thick that you stir it with great difficulty, it is about right. It takes about half an hour's cooking. Eat it with milk or molasses. Either Indian meal or rye meal may be used. If the system is in a restricted state, nothing can be better than _rye_ hasty pudding and _West India_ molasses. This diet would save many a one the horrors of dyspepsia. * * * * * CHEAP CUSTARDS. One quart of milk, boiled; when boiling, add three table spoonfuls of ground rice, or rice that is boiled, mixed smooth and fine in cold milk, and one egg beaten; give it one boil up, and sweeten to your taste; peach leaves, or any spice you please, boiled in the milk. * * * * * COMMON PIES. MINCE PIES. Boil a tender, nice piece of beef--any piece that is clear from sinews and gristle; boil it till it is perfectly tender When it is cold, chop it very fine, and be very careful to get out every particle of bone and gristle. The suet is sweeter and better to boil half an hour or more in the liquor the beef has been boiled in; but few people do this. Pare, core, and chop the apples fine. If you use raisins, stone them. If you use currants, wash and dry them at the fire. Two pounds of beef, after it is chopped; three quarters of a pound of suet; one pound and a quarter of sugar; three pounds of apples; two pounds of currants, or raisins. Put in a gill of brandy; lemon-brandy is better, if you have any prepared. Make it quite moist with new cider. I should not think a quart would be too much; the more moist the better, if it does not spill out into the oven. A very little pepper. If you use corn meat, or tongue, for pies, it should be well soaked, and boiled very tender. If you use fresh beef, salt is necessary in the seasoning. One ounce of cinnamon, one ounce of cloves. Two nutmegs add to the pleasantness of the flavor; and a bit of sweet butter put upon the top of each pie, makes them rich; but these are not necessary. Baked three quarters of an hour. If your apples are rather sweet, grate in a whole lemon. PUMPKIN AND SQUASH PIE. For common family pumpkin pies, three eggs do very well to a quart of milk. Stew your pumpkin, and strain it through a sieve, or colander. Take out the seeds, and pare the pumpkin, or squash, before you stew it; but do not scrape the inside; the part nearest the seed is the sweetest part of the squash. Stir in the stewed pumpkin, till it is as thick as you can stir it round rapidly and easily. If you want to make your pie richer, make it thinner, and add another egg. One egg to a quart of milk makes very decent pies. Sweeten it to your taste, with molasses or sugar; some pumpkins require more sweetening than others. Two tea-spoonfuls of salt; two great spoonfuls of sifted cinnamon; one great spoonful of ginger. Ginger will answer very well alone for spice, if you use enough of it. The outside of a lemon grated in is nice. The more eggs, the better the pie; some put an egg to a gill of milk. They should bake from forty to fifty minutes, and even ten minutes longer, if very deep. CARROT PIE. Carrot pies are made like squash pies. The carrots should be boiled very tender, skinned and sifted. Both carrot pies and squash pies should be baked without an upper crust, in deep plates. To be baked an hour, in quite a warm oven. CHERRY PIE. Cherry pies should be baked in a deep plate. Take the cherries from the stalks, lay them in a plate, and sprinkle a little sugar, and cinnamon, according to the sweetness of the cherries. Baked with a top and bottom crust, three quarters of an hour. WHORTLEBERRY PIE. Whortleberries make a very good common pie, where there is a large family of children. Sprinkle a little sugar and sifted cloves into each pie. Baked in the same way, and as long, as cherry pies. APPLE PIE. When you make apple pies, stew your apples very little indeed; just strike them through, to make them tender. Some people do not stew them at all, but cut them up in very thin slices, and lay them in the crust. Pies made in this way may retain more of the spirit of the apple; but I do not think the seasoning mixes in as well. Put in sugar to your taste; it is impossible to make a precise rule, because apples vary so much in acidity. A very little salt, and a small piece of butter in each pie, makes them richer. Cloves and cinnamon are both suitable spice. Lemon-brandy and rose-water are both excellent. A wine-glass full of each is sufficient for three or four pies. If your apples lack spirit, grate in a whole lemon. CUSTARD PIE. It is a general rule to put eight eggs to a quart of milk, in making custard pies; but six eggs are a plenty for any common use. The milk should be boiled and cooled before it is used; and bits of stick-cinnamon and bits of lemon-peel boiled in it. Sweeten to your taste with clean sugar; a very little sprinkling of salt makes them taste better. Grate in a nutmeg. Bake in a deep plate. About 20 minutes are usually enough. If you are doubtful whether they are done, dip in the handle of a silver spoon, or the blade of a small knife; if it come out clean, the pie is done. Do not pour them into your plates till the minute you put them into the oven; it makes the crust wet and heavy. To be baked with an under crust only. Some people bake the under crust a little before the custard is poured in; this is to keep it from being clammy. CRANBERRY PIE. Cranberry pies need very little spice. A little nutmeg, or cinnamon, improves them. They need a great deal of sweetening. It is well to stew the sweetening with them; at least a part of it. It is easy to add, if you find them too sour for your taste. When cranberries are strained, and added to about their own weight in sugar, they make very delicious tarts. No upper crust. RHUBARB STALKS, OR PERSIAN APPLE. Rhubarb stalks, or the Persian apple, is the earliest in gradient for pies, which the spring offers. The skin should be carefully stripped, and the stalks cut into small bits, and stewed very tender. These are dear pies, for they take an enormous quantity of sugar. Seasoned like apple pies Gooseberries, currants, &c., are stewed, sweetened and seasoned like apple pies, in proportions suited to the sweetness of the fruit; there is no way to judge but by your own taste. Always remember it is more easy to add seasoning than to diminish it. PIE CRUST. To make pie crust for common use, a quarter of a pound of butter is enough for a half a pound of flour. Take out about a quarter part of the flour you intend to use, and lay it aside. Into the remainder of the flour rub butter thoroughly with your hands, until it is so short that a handful of it, clasped tight, will remain in a ball, without any tendency to fall in pieces. Then wet it with cold water, roll it out on a board, rub over the surface with flour, stick little lumps of butter all over it, sprinkle some flour over the butter, and roll the dough all up; flour the paste, and flour the rolling-pin; roll it lightly and quickly; flour it again; stick in bits of butter; do it up; flour the rolling-pin, and roll it quickly and lightly; and so on, till you have used up your butter. Always roll from you. Pie crust should be made as cold as possible, and set in a cool place; but be careful it does not freeze. Do not use more flour than you can help in sprinkling and rolling. The paste should not be rolled out more than three times; if rolled too much, it will not be flaky. COMMON CAKES. In all cakes where butter or eggs are used, the butter should be very faithfully rubbed into the flour, and the eggs beat to a foam, before the ingredients are mixed. GINGERBREAD. A very good way to make molasses gingerbread is to rub four pounds and a half of flour with half a pound of lard and half a pound of butter; a pint of molasses, a gill of milk, tea-cup of ginger, a tea-spoonful of dissolved pearlash stirred together. All mixed, baked in shallow pans twenty or thirty minutes. Hard gingerbread is good to have in the family, it keeps so well. One pound of flour, half a pound of butter and sugar, rubbed into it; half a pound of sugar; great spoonful of ginger, or more, according to the strength of the ginger; a spoonful of rose-water, and a handful of caraway seed. Well beat up. Kneaded stiff enough to roll out and bake on flat pans. Bake twenty or thirty minutes. A cake of common gingerbread can be stirred up very quick in the following way. Rub in a bit of shortening as big as an egg into a pint of flour; if you use lard, add a little salt; two or three great spoonfuls of ginger; one cup of molasses, one cup and a half of cider, and a great spoonful of dissolved pearlash, put together and poured into the shortened flour while it is foaming; to be put in the oven in a minute. It ought to be just thick enough to pour into the pans with difficulty; if these proportions make it too thin, use less liquid the next time you try. Bake about twenty minutes. If by carelessness you let a piece of short-cake dough grow sour, put in a little pearlash and water, warm a little butter, according to the size of the dough, knead in a cup or two of sugar, (two cups, unless it is a very small bit,) two or three spoonfuls of ginger, and a little rose-water Knead it up thoroughly, roll it out on a flat pan, and bake it twenty minutes. Every thing mixed with pearlash should be put in the oven immediately. CUP CAKE. Cup cake is about as good as pound cake, and is cheaper. One cup of butter, two cups of sugar, three cups of flour, and four eggs, well beat together, and baked in pans or cups. Bake twenty minutes, and no more. TEA CAKE. There is a kind of tea cake still cheaper. Three cups of sugar, three eggs, one cup of butter, one cup of milk, a spoonful of dissolved pearlash, and four cups of flour, well beat up. If it is so stiff it will not stir easily, add a little more milk. CIDER CAKE. Cider cake is very good, to be baked in small loaves. One pound and a half of flour, half a pound of sugar, quarter of a pound of butter, half a pint of cider, one teaspoonful of pearlash; spice to your taste. Bake till it turns easily in the pans. I should think about half an hour. ELECTION CAKE. Old-fashioned election cake is made of four pounds of flour; three quarters of a pound of butter; four eggs; one pound of sugar; one pound of currants, or raisins if you choose; half a pint of good yeast; wet it with milk as soft as it can be and be moulded on a board. Set to rise over night in winter; in warm weather, three hours is usually enough for it to rise. A loaf, the size of common flour bread, should bake three quarters of an hour. SPONGE CAKE. The nicest way to make sponge cake, or diet-bread, is the weight of six eggs in sugar, the weight of four eggs in flour, a little rose-water. The whites and yolks should be beaten thoroughly and separately. The eggs and sugar should be well beaten together; but after the flour is sprinkled, it should not be stirred a moment longer than is necessary to mix it well; it should be poured into the pan, and got into the oven with all possible expedition. Twenty minutes is about long enough to bake. Not to be put in till some other articles have taken off the first few minutes of furious heat. WEDDING CAKE. Good common wedding cake may be made thus: Four pounds of flour, three pounds of butter, three pounds of sugar, four pounds of currants, two pounds of raisins, twenty-four eggs, half a pint of brandy, or lemon-brandy, one ounce of mace, and three nutmegs. A little molasses makes it dark colored, which is desirable. Half a pound of citron improves it; but it is not necessary. To be baked two hours and a half, or three hours. After the oven is cleared, it is well to shut the door for eight or ten minutes, to let the violence of the heat subside, before cake or bread is put in. To make icing for your wedding cake, beat the whites of eggs to an entire froth, and to each egg add five teaspoonfuls of sifted loaf sugar, gradually; beat it a great while. Put it on when your cake is hot, or cold, as is most convenient. It will dry in a warm room, a short distance from a gentle fire, or in a warm oven. LOAF CAKE. Very good loaf cake is made with two pounds of flour, half a pound of sugar, quarter of a pound of butter, two eggs, a gill of sweet emptings, half an ounce of cinnamon, or cloves, a large spoonful of lemon-brandy, or rose-water; if it is not about as thin as goad white bread dough, add a little milk. A common sized loaf is made by these proportions. Bake about three quarters of an hour. A handy way to make loaf cake is, to take about as much of your white bread dough, or sponge, as you think your pan will hold, and put it into a pan in which you have already beat up three or four eggs, six ounces of butter warmed, and half a pound of sugar, a spoonful of rose-water, little sifted cinnamon, or cloves. The materials should be well mixed and beat before the dough is put in; and then it should be all kneaded well together, about as stiff as white bread. Put in half a pound of currants, or raisins, with the butter, if you choose. It should Stand in the pan two or three hours to rise; and be baked about three quarters of an hour, if the pan is a common sized bread-pan. If you have loaf cake slightly injured by time, or by being kept in the cellar, cut off all appearance of mould from the outside, wipe it with a clean cloth, and wet it well with strong brandy and water sweetened with sugar; then put it in your oven, and let the heat strike through it, for fifteen or twenty minutes. Unless very bad, this will restore the sweetness. CARAWAY CAKES. Take one pound of flour, three quarters of a pound of sugar, half a pound of butter, a glass of rose-water, four eggs, and half a tea-cup of caraway seed,--the materials well rubbed together and beat up. Drop them from a spoon on tin sheets, and bake them brown in rather a slow oven. Twenty minutes, or half an hour, is enough to bake them. DOUGH-NUTS. For dough-nuts, take one pint of flour, half a pint of sugar, three eggs, a piece of butter as big as an egg, and a tea-spoonful of dissolved pearlash. When you have no eggs, a gill of lively emptings will do; but in that case, they must be made over night. Cinnamon, rose-water, or lemon-brandy, if you have it. If you use part lard instead of butter, add a little salt. Not put in till the fat is very hot. The more fat they are fried in, the less they will soak fat. PANCAKES. Pancakes should be made of half a pint of milk, three great spoonfuls of sugar, one or two eggs, a tea-spoonful of dissolved pearlash, spiced with cinnamon, or cloves, a little salt, rose-water, or lemon-brandy, just as you happen to have it. Flour should be stirred in till the spoon moves round with difficulty. If they are thin, they are apt to soak fat. Have the fat in your skillet boiling hot, and drop them in with a spoon. Let them cook till thoroughly brown. The fat which is left is good to shorten other cakes. The more fat they are cooked in, the less they soak. If you have no eggs, or wish to save them, use the above ingredients, and supply the place of eggs by two or three spoonfuls of lively emptings; but in this case they must be made five or six hours before they are cooked,--and in winter they should stand all night. A spoonful or more of N.E. rum makes pancakes light. Flip makes very nice pancakes. In this case, nothing is done but to sweeten your mug of beer with molasses; put in one glass of N.E. rum; heat it till it foams, by putting in a hot poker; and stir it up with flour as thick as other pancakes. FRITTERS. Flat-jacks, or fritters, do not differ from pancakes, only in being mixed softer. The same ingredients are used in about the same quantities; only most people prefer to have no sweetening put in them, because they generally have butter, sugar, and nutmeg, put on them, after they are done. Excepting for company, the nutmeg can be well dispensed with. They are not to be boiled in fat, like pancakes; the spider or griddle should be well greased, and the cakes poured on as large as you want them, when it is quite hot; when it gets brown on one side, to be turned over upon the other. Fritters are better to be baked quite thin. Either flour, Indian, or rye, is good. Sour beer, with a spoonful of pearlash, is good both for pancakes and fritters. If you have any cold rice left, it is nice to break it up fine in warm milk; put in a little salt; after you have put milk enough for the cakes you wish to make, (a half pint, Or more,) stir in flour till it is thick enough to pour for fritters. It does very well without an egg; but better with one. To be fried like other flat-jacks. Sugar and nutmeg are to be put on when they are buttered, if you like. SHORT CAKE. If you have sour milk, or butter-milk, it is well to make it into short cakes for tea. Rub in a very small bit of shortening, or three table-spoonfuls of cream, with the flour; put in a tea-spoonful of strong dissolved pearlash, into your sour milk, and mix your cake pretty stiff, to bake in the spider, on a few embers. When people have to buy butter and lard, short cakes are not economical food. A half pint of flour will make a cake large enough to cover a common plate. Rub in thoroughly a bit of shortening as big as a hen's egg; put in a tea-spoonful of dissolved pearlash; wet it with cold water; knead it stiff enough to roll well, to bake on a plate, or in a spider. It should bake as quick as it can, and not burn. The first side should stand longer to the fire than the last. INDIAN CAKE. Indian cake, or bannock, is sweet and cheap food. One quart of sifted meal, two great spoonfuls of molasses, two tea-spoonfuls of salt, a bit of shortening half as big as a hen's egg, stirred together; make it pretty moist with scalding water, put it into a well greased pan, smooth over the surface with a spoon, and bake it brown on both sides, before a quick fire. A little stewed pumpkin, scalded with the meal, improves the cake. Bannock split and dipped in butter makes very nice toast. A richer Indian cake may be made by stirring one egg to a half pint of milk, sweetened with two great spoonfuls of molasses; a little ginger, or cinnamon; Indian stirred in till it is just about thick enough to pour. Spider or bake-kettle well greased; cake poured in, covered up, baked half an hour, or three quarters, according to the thickness of the cake. If you have sour milk, or butter-milk, it is very nice for this kind of cake; the acidity corrected by a tea-spoonful of dissolved pearlash. It is a rule never to use pearlash for Indian, unless to correct the sourness of milk; it injures the flavor of the meal. Nice suet improves all kinds of Indian cakes very much. * * * * * Two cups of Indian meal, one table-spoonful molasses, two cups milk, a little salt, a handful flour, a little saleratus, mixed up thin, and poured into a buttered bake-kettle, hung over the fire uncovered, until you can bear your finger upon it, and then set down before the fire. Bake half an hour. * * * * * BREAD, YEAST, &C. It is more difficult to give rules for making bread than for anything else; it depends so much on judgment and experience. In summer, bread should be mixed with cold water; during a chilly, damp spell, the water should be slightly warm; in severe cold weather, it should be mixed quite warm, and set in a warm place during the night. If your yeast is new and lively, a small quantity will make the bread rise; if it be old and heavy, it will take more. In these things I believe wisdom must be gained by a few mistakes. Six quarts of meal will make two good sized loaves of _Brown Bread_. Some like to have it half Indian meal and half rye meal; others prefer it one third Indian, and two thirds rye. Many mix their brown bread over night; but there is no need of it; and it is more likely to sour, particularly in summer. If you do mix it the night before you bake it, you must not put in more than half the yeast I am about to mention, unless the weather is intensely cold. The meal should be sifted separately. Put the Indian in your bread-pan, sprinkle a little salt among it, and wet it thoroughly with scalding water. Stir it up while you are scalding it. Be sure and have hot water enough; for Indian absorbs a great deal of water. When it is cool, pour in your rye; add two gills of lively yeast, and mix it with water as stiff as you can knead it. Let it stand an hour and a half, in a cool place in summer, on the hearth in winter. It should be put into a very hot oven, and baked three or four hours. It is all the better for remaining in the oven over night. _Flour Bread_ should have a sponge set the night before. The sponge should be soft enough to pour; mixed with water, warm or cold, according to the temperature of the weather. One gill of lively yeast is enough to put into sponge for two loaves. I should judge about three pints of sponge would be right for two loaves. The warmth of the place in which the sponge is set, should be determined by the coldness of the weather. If your sponge looks frothy in the morning, it is a sign your bread will be good; if it does not rise, stir in a little more emptings; if it rises too much, taste of it, to see if it has any acid taste; if so, put in a tea-spoonful of pearlash when you mould in your flour; be sure the pearlash is well dissolved in water; if there are little lumps, your bread will be full of bitter spots. About an hour before your oven is ready, stir in flour into your sponge till it is stiff enough to lay on a well floured board or table. Knead it up pretty stiff, and put it into well greased pans, and let it stand in a cool or warm place, according to the weather. If the oven is ready, put them in fifteen or twenty minutes after the dough begins to rise up and crack; if the oven is not ready, move the pans to a cooler spot, to prevent the dough from becoming sour by too much rising. Common sized loaves will bake in three quarters of an hour. If they slip easily in the pans, it is a sign they are done. Some people do not set a soft sponge for flour bread; they knead it up all ready to put in the pans the night before, and leave it to rise. White bread and pies should not be set in the oven until the brown bread and beans have been in half an hour. If the oven be too hot, it will bind the crust so suddenly that the bread cannot rise; if it be too cold, the bread will fall. Flour bread should not be too stiff. Some people like one third Indian in their flour. Others like one third rye; and some think the nicest of all bread is one third Indian, one third rye, and one third flour, made according to the directions for flour bread. When Indian is used, it should be salted, and scalded, before the other meal is put in. A mixture of other grains is economical when flour is high. _Dyspepsia Bread_.--The American Farmer publishes the following receipt for making bread, which has proved highly salutary to persons afflicted with that complaint, viz:--Three quarts unbolted wheat meal; one quart soft water, warm, but not hot; one gill of fresh yeast; one gill of molasses, or not, as may suit the taste; one tea-spoonful of saleratus. This will make two loaves, and should remain in the oven at least one hour; and when taken out, placed where they will cool gradually. Dyspepsia crackers can be made with unbolted flour, water and saleratus. _To make Rice Bread_.--Boil a pint of rice soft; add a pint of leaven; then, three quarts of the flour; put it to rise in a tin or earthen vessel until it has risen sufficiently; divide it into three parts; then bake it as other bread, and you will have three large loaves. Heating ovens must be regulated by experience and observation. There is a difference in wood in giving out heat; there is a great difference in the construction of ovens; and when an oven is extremely cold, either on account of the weather, or want of use, it must be heated more. Economical people heat ovens with pine wood, fagots, brush, and such light stuff. If you have none but hard wood, you must remember that it makes very hot coals, and therefore less of it will answer. A smart fire for an hour and a half is a general rule for common sized family ovens, provided brown bread and beans are to be baked. An hour is long enough to heat an oven for flour bread. Pies bear about as much heat as flour bread: pumpkin pies will bear more. If you are afraid your oven is too hot, throw in a little flour, and shut it up for a minute. If it scorches black immediately, the heat is too furious; if it merely browns, it is right. Some people wet an old broom two or three times, and turn it round near the top of die oven till it dries; this prevents pies and cake from scorching on the top. When you go into a new house, heat your oven two or three times, to get it seasoned, before you use it. After the wood is burned, rake the coals over the bottom of the oven, and let them lie a few minutes. Those who make their own bread should make yeast too. When bread is nearly out, always think whether yeast is in readiness; for it takes a day and night to prepare it. One handful of hops, with two or three handsful of malt and rye bran, should be boiled fifteen or twenty minutes, in two quarts of water, then strained, hung on to boil again, and thickened with half a pint of rye and water stirred up quite thick, and a little molasses; boil it a minute or two, and then take it off to cool. When just about lukewarm, put in a cupful of good lively yeast, and set it in a cool place in summer, and warm place in winter. If it is too warm when you put in the old yeast, all the spirit will be killed. In summer, yeast sours easily; therefore make but little at a time. Bottle it when it gets well a working; it keeps better when the air is corked out. If you find it acid, but still spirited, put a little pearlash to it, as you use it; but by no means put it into your bread unless it foams up bright and lively as soon as the pearlash mixes with it. Never keep yeast in tin; it destroys its life. There is another method of making yeast, which is much easier, and I think quite as good. Stir rye and cold water, till you make a stiff thickening. Then pour in boiling water, and stir it all the time, till you make it as thin as the yeast you buy; three or four table spoons heaping full are enough for a quart of water. When it gets about cold, put in half a pint of lively yeast. When it works well, bottle it; but if very lively, do not cork your bottle _very_ tight, for fear it will burst. Always think to make new yeast before the old is gone; so that you may have some to work with. Always wash and scald your bottle clean after it has contained sour yeast. Beware of freezing yeast. Milk yeast is made quicker than any other. A pint of new milk with a tea-spoonful of salt, and a large spoon of flour stirred in, set by the fire to keep lukewarm, will make yeast fit for use in an hour. Twice the quantity of common yeast is necessary, and unless used soon is good for nothing. Bread made of this yeast dries sooner. It is convenient in summer, when one wants to make biscuits suddenly. A species of leaven may be made that will keep any length of time. Three ounces of hops in a pail of water boiled down to a quart; strain it, and stir in a quart of rye meal while boiling hot. Cool it, and add half a pint of good yeast; after it has risen a few hours, thicken it with Indian meal stiff enough to roll out upon a board; then put it in the sun and air a few days to dry. A piece of this cake two inches square, dissolved in warm water, and thickened with a little flour, will make a large loaf of bread. Potatoes make very good yeast. Mash three large potatoes fine; pour a pint of boiling water over them; when almost cold, stir in two spoonfuls of flour, two of molasses, and a cup of good yeast. This yeast should be used while new. * * * * * PRESERVES, &C. Economical people will seldom use preserves, except for sickness. They are unhealthy, expensive, and useless to those who are well. Barberries preserved in molasses are very good for common use. Boil the molasses, skim it, throw in the barberries, and simmer them till they are soft. If you wish to lay by a few for sickness, preserve them in sugar by the same rule as other preserves. Melt the sugar, skim it, throw in the barberries; when done soft, take them out, and throw in others. A pound of sugar to a pound of fruit is the rule for all preserves. The sugar should be melted over a fire moderate enough not to scorch it. When melted, it should be skimmed clean, and the fruit dropped in to simmer till it is soft. Plums, and things of which the skin is liable to be broken, do better to be put in little jars, with their weight of sugar, and the jars set in a kettle of boiling water, till the fruit is done. See the water is not so high as to boil into the jars. When you put preserves in jars, lay a white paper, thoroughly wet with brandy, flat upon the surface of the preserves, and cover them carefully from the air. If they begin to mould, scald them by setting them in the oven till boiling hot. Glass is much better than earthen for preserves; they are not half as apt to ferment. CURRANT JELLY. Currant jelly is a useful thing for sickness. If it be necessary to wash your currants, be sure they are thoroughly drained, or your jelly will be thin. Break them up with a pestle, and squeeze them through a cloth. Put a pint of clean sugar to a pint of juice, and boil it slowly, till it becomes ropy. Great care must be taken not to do it too fast; it is spoiled by being scorched. It should be frequently skimmed while simmering. If currants are put in a jar, and kept in boiling water, and cooked before they are strained, they are more likely to keep a long time without fermenting. CURRANT WINE. Those who have more currants than they have money, will do well to use no wine but of their own manufacture. Break and squeeze the currants, put three pounds and a half of sugar to two quarts of juice and two quarts of water. Put in a keg or barrel. Do not close the bung tight for three or four days, that the air may escape while it is fermenting. After it is done fermenting, close it up tight. Where raspberries are plenty, it is a great improvement to use half raspberry juice, and half currant juice. Brandy is unnecessary when the above-mentioned proportions are observed. It should not be used under a year or two. Age improves it. RASPBERRY SHRUB. Raspberry shrub mixed with water is a pure, delicious drink for summer; and in a country where raspberries are abundant, it is good economy to make it answer instead of Port and Catalonia wine. Put raspberries in a pan, and scarcely cover them with strong vinegar. Add a pint of sugar to a pint of juice; (of this you can judge by first trying your pan to see how much it holds;) scald it, skim it, and bottle it when cold. COFFEE. As substitutes for coffee, some use dry brown bread crusts, and roast them; others soak rye grain in rum, and roast it; others roast peas in the same way as coffee. None of these are very good; and peas so used are considered unhealthy. Where there is a large family of apprentices and workmen, and coffee is very dear, it may be worth while to use the substitutes, or to mix them half and half with coffee; but, after all, the best economy is to go without. French coffee is so celebrated, that it may be worth while to tell how it is made; though no prudent housekeeper will make it, unless she has boarders, who are willing to pay for expensive cooking. The coffee should be roasted more than is common with us; it should not hang drying over the fire, but should be roasted quick; it should be ground soon after roasting, and used as soon as it is ground. Those who pride themselves on first-rate coffee, burn it and grind it every morning. The powder should be placed in the coffee-pot in the proportions of an ounce to less than a pint of water. The water should be poured upon the coffee boiling hot. The coffee should be kept at the boiling point; but should not boil. Coffee made in this way must be made in a biggin. It would not be clear in a common coffee-pot. A bit of fish-skin as big as a ninepence, thrown into coffee while it is boiling, tends to make it clear. If you use it just as it comes from the salt-fish, it will be apt to give an unpleasant taste to the coffee: it should be washed clean as a bit of cloth, and hung up till perfectly dry. The white of eggs, and even egg shells are good to settle coffee. Rind of salt pork is excellent. Some people think coffee is richer and clearer for having a bit of sweet butter, or a whole egg, dropped in and stirred, just before it is done roasting, and ground up, shell and all, with the coffee. But these things are not economical, except on a farm, where butter and eggs are plenty. A half a gill of cold water, poured in after you take your coffee-pot off the fire, will _usually_ settle the coffee. If you have not cream for coffee, it is a very great improvement to boil your milk, and use it while hot. CHOCOLATE. Many people boil chocolate in a coffee-pot; but I think it is better to boil it in a skillet, or something open. A piece of chocolate about as big as a dollar is the usual quantity for a quart of water; but some put in more, and some less. When it boils, pour in as much milk as you like and let them boil together three or four minutes. It is much richer with the milk boiled in it. Put the sugar in either before or after, as you please. Nutmeg improves it. The chocolate should be scraped fine before it is put into the water. TEA. Young Hyson is supposed to be a more profitable tea than Hyson; but though the _quantity_ to a pound is greater, it has not so much _strength_. In point of economy, therefore, there is not much difference between them. Hyson tea and Souchong mixed together, half and half, is a pleasant beverage, and is more healthy than green tea alone. Be sure that water boils before it is poured upon tea. A tea-spoonful to each person, and one extra thrown in, is a good rule. Steep ten or fifteen minutes. PICKLES. Musk-melons should be picked for mangoes, when they are green and hard. They should be cut open after they have been in salt water ten days, the inside scraped out clean, and filled with mustard-seed, allspice, horseradish, small onions, &c., and sewed up again. Scalding vinegar poured upon them. When walnuts are so ripe that a pin will go into them easily, they are ready for pickling. They should be soaked twelve days in very strong cold salt and water, which has been boiled and skimmed. A quantity of vinegar, enough to cover them well, should be boiled with whole pepper, mustard-seed, small onions, or garlic, cloves, ginger, and horseradish; this should not be poured upon them till it is cold. They should be pickled a few months before they are eaten. To be kept close covered; for the air softens them. The liquor is an excellent catsup to be eaten on fish. Put peppers into strong salt and water, until they become yellow; then turn them green by keeping them in warm salt and water, shifting them every two days. Then drain them, and pour scalding vinegar over them. A bag of mustard-seed is an improvement. If there is mother in vinegar, scald and strain it. Cucumbers should be in weak brine three or four days after they are picked; then they should be put in a tin or wooden pail of clean water, and kept slightly warm in the kitchen corner for two or three days. Then take as much vinegar as you think your pickle jar will hold; scald it with pepper, allspice, mustard-seed, flag-root, horseradish, &c., if you happen to have them; half of them will spice the pickles very well. Throw in a bit of alum as big as a walnut; this serves to make pickles hard. Skim the vinegar clean, and pour it scalding hot upon the cucumbers. Brass vessels are not healthy for preparing anything acid. Red cabbages need no other pickling than scalding, spiced vinegar poured upon them, and suffered to remain eight or ten days before you eat them. Some people think it improves them to keep them in salt and water twenty-four hours before they are pickled. If you find your pickles soft and insipid, it is owing to the weakness of the vinegar. Throw away the vinegar, (or keep it to clean your brass kettles,) then cover your pickles with strong, scalding vinegar, into which a little allspice, ginger, horseradish and alum have been thrown. By no means omit a pretty large bit of alum. Pickles attended to in this way, will keep for years, and be better and better every year. Some people prefer pickled nasturtion-seed to capers. They should be kept several days after they are gathered, and then covered with boiling vinegar, and bottled when cold. They are not fit to be eaten for some months. Martinoes are prepared in nearly the same way as other pickles. The salt and water in which they are put, two or three days previous to pickling, should be changed every day; because martinoes are very apt to become soft. No spice should be used but allspice, cloves, and cinnamon. The martinoes and the spice should be scalded _in_ the vinegar, instead of pouring the vinegar _over_ the martinoes. BEER. Beer is a good family drink. A handful of hops, to a pailful of water, and a half-pint of molasses, makes good hop beer. Spruce mixed with hops is pleasanter than hops alone. Boxberry, fever-bush, sweet fern, and horseradish make a good and healthy diet-drink. The winter evergreen, or rheumatism weed, thrown in, is very beneficial to humors. Be careful and not mistake kill-lamb for winter-evergreen; they resemble each other. Malt mixed with a few hops makes a weak kind of beer; but it is cool and pleasant; it needs less molasses than hops alone. The rule is about the same for all beer. Boil the ingredients two or three hours, pour in a half-pint of molasses to a pailful, while the beer is scalding hot. Strain the beer, and when about lukewarm, put a pint of lively yeast to a barrel. Leave the bung loose till the beer is done working; you can ascertain this by observing when the froth subsides. If your family be large, and the beer will be drank rapidly, it may as well remain in the barrel; but if your family be small, fill what bottles you have with it; it keeps better bottled. A raw potato or two, cut up and thrown in, while the ingredients are boiling, is said to make beer spirited. Ginger beer is made in the following proportions:--One cup of ginger, one pint of molasses, one pail and a half of water, and a cup of lively yeast. Most people scald the ginger in half a pail of water, and then fill it up with a pailful of cold; but in very hot weather some people stir it up cold. Yeast must not be put in till it is cold, or nearly cold. If not to be drank within twenty-four hours, it must be bottled as soon as it works. Table beer should be drawn off into _stone_ jugs, with a lump of white sugar in each, securely corked. It is brisk and pleasant, and continues good several months. Potato cheese is much sought after in various parts of Europe. I do not know whether it is worth seeking after, or not. The following is the receipt for making:--Select good white potatoes, boil them, and, when cold, peel and reduce them to a pulp with a rasp or mortar; to five pounds of this pulp, which must be very uniform and homogeneous, add a pint of sour milk and the requisite portion of salt; knead the whole well, cover it, and let it remain three or four days, according to the season; then knead it afresh, and place the cheeses in small baskets, when they will part with their superfluous moisture; dry them in the shade, and place them in layers in large pots or kegs, where they may remain a fortnight. The older they are, the finer they become. This cheese has the advantage of never engendering worms, and of being preserved fresh for many years, provided it is kept in a dry place, and in well closed vessels. * * * * * GENERAL MAXIMS FOR HEALTH. Rise early. Eat simple food. Take plenty of exercise. Never fear a little fatigue. Let not children be dressed in tight clothes; it is necessary their limbs and muscles should have full play, if you wish for either health or beauty. Avoid the necessity of a physician, if you can, by careful attention to your diet. Eat what best agrees with your system, and resolutely abstain from what hurts you, however well you may like it. A few days' abstinence, and cold water for a beverage, has driven off many an approaching disease. If you find yourself really ill, send for a good physician. Have nothing to do with quacks; and do not tamper with quack medicines. You do not know what they are; and what security have you that they know what they are? Wear shoes that are large enough. It not only produces corns, but makes the feet misshapen, to cramp them. Wash very often, and rub the skin thoroughly with a hard brush. Let those who love to be invalids drink strong green tea, eat pickles, preserves, and rich pastry. As far as possible, eat and sleep at regular hours. Wash the eyes thoroughly in cold water every morning. Do not read or sew at twilight, or by too dazzling a light. If far-sighted, read with rather less light, and with the book somewhat nearer to the eye, than you desire. If nearsighted, read with a book as far off as possible. Both these imperfections may be diminished in this way. Clean teeth in pure water two or three times a day; but, above all, be sure to have them clean before you go to bed. Have your bed-chamber well aired; and have fresh bed linen every week. Never have the wind blowing directly upon you from open windows during the night. It is _not_ healthy to sleep in heated rooms. Let children have their bread and milk before they have been long up. Cold water and a run in the fresh air before breakfast. Too frequent use of an ivory comb injures the hair. Thorough combing, washing in suds, or N.E. rum, and thorough brushing, will keep it in order; and the washing does not injure the hair, as is generally supposed. Keep children's hair cut close until ten or twelve years old; it is better for health and the beauty of the hair. Do not sleep with hair frizzled, or braided. Do not make children cross-eyed, by having hair hang about their foreheads, where they see it continually. * * * * * HINTS TO PERSONS OF MODERATE FORTUNE [FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE MASSACHUSETTS JOURNAL.] * * * * * When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks.--SHAKSPEARE. * * * * * FURNITURE. The prevailing evil of the present day is extravagance. I know very well that the old are too prone to preach about modern degeneracy, whether they have cause or not; but, laugh as we may at the sage advice of our fathers, it is too plain that our present expensive habits are productive of much domestic unhappiness, and injurious to public prosperity. Our wealthy people copy all the foolish and extravagant caprice of European fashion, without considering that we have not their laws of inheritance among us; and that our frequent changes of policy render property far more precarious here than in the old world. However, it is not to the rich I would speak. They have an undoubted right to spend their thousands as they please; and if they spend them ridiculously, it is consoling to reflect that they must, in some way or other, benefit the poorer classes. People of moderate fortunes have likewise an unquestioned right to dispose of their hundreds as they please; but I would ask, Is it _wise_ to risk your happiness in a foolish attempt to keep up with the opulent? Of what _use_ is the effort which takes so much of your time, and _all_ of your income? Nay, if any unexpected change in affairs should deprive you of a few yearly hundreds, you will find your expenses have _exceeded_ your income; thus the foundation of an accumulating debt will be laid, and your family will have formed habits but poorly calculated to save you from the threatened ruin. Not one valuable friend will be gained by living beyond your means, and old age will be left to comparative, if not to utter poverty. There is nothing in which the extravagance of the present day strikes me so forcibly as the manner in which our young people of moderate fortune furnish their houses. A few weeks since, I called upon a farmer's daughter, who had lately married a young physician of moderate talents, and destitute of fortune. Her father had given her, at her marriage, all he ever expected to give her: viz. two thousand dollars. Yet the lower part of her house was furnished with as much splendor as we usually find among the wealthiest. The whole two thousand had been expended upon Brussels carpets, alabaster vases, mahogany chairs, and marble tables. I afterwards learned that the more useful household utensils had been forgotten; and that, a few weeks after her wedding, she was actually obliged to apply to her husband for money to purchase baskets, iron spoons, clothes-lines, &c.; and her husband, made irritable by the want of money, pettishly demanded why she had bought so many things they did not want. Did the doctor gain any patients, or she a single friend, by offering their visiters water in richly-cut glass tumblers, or serving them with costly damask napkins, instead of plain soft towels? No; their foolish vanity made them less happy, and no more respectable. Had the young lady been content with Kidderminster carpets, and tasteful vases of her own making, she might have put _one_ thousand dollars at interest; and had she obtained six per cent., it would have clothed her as well as the wife of any man, who depends merely upon his own industry, ought to be clothed. This would have saved much domestic disquiet; for, after all, human nature is human nature; and a wife is never better beloved, because she teases for money. * * * * * EDUCATION OF DAUGHTERS. There is no subject so much connected with individual happiness and national prosperity as the education of daughters. It is a true, and therefore an old remark, that the situation and prospects of a country may be justly estimated by the character of its women; and we all know how hard it is to engraft upon a woman's character habits and principles to which she was unaccustomed in her girlish days. It is always extremely difficult, and sometimes utterly impossible. Is the present education of young ladies likely to contribute to their own ultimate happiness, or to the welfare of the country? There are many honorable exceptions; but we do think the general tone of female education is bad. The greatest and most universal error is, teaching girls to exaggerate the importance of getting married; and of course to place an undue importance upon the polite attentions of gentlemen. It was but a few days since, I heard a pretty and sensible girl say, 'Did you ever see a man so ridiculously fond of his daughters as Mr. ----? He is all the time with them. The other night, at the party, I went and took Anna away by mere force; for I knew she must feel dreadfully to have her father waiting upon her all the time, while the other girls were talking with the beaux.' And another young friend of mine said, with an air most laughably serious, 'I don't think Harriet and Julia enjoyed themselves at all last night. Don't you think, nobody but their _brother_ offered to hand them to the supper-room?' That a mother should wish to see her daughters happily married, is natural and proper; that a young lady should be pleased with polite attentions is likewise natural and innocent; but this undue anxiety, this foolish excitement about showing off the attentions of somebody, no matter whom, is attended with consequences seriously injurious. It promotes envy and rivalship; it leads our young girls to spend their time between the public streets, the ball room, and the toilet; and, worst of all, it leads them to contract engagements, without any knowledge of their own hearts, merely for the sake of being married as soon as their companions. When married, they find themselves ignorant of the important duties of domestic life; and its quiet pleasures soon grow tiresome to minds worn out by frivolous excitements. If they remain unmarried, their disappointment and discontent are, of course, in proportion to their exaggerated idea of the eclat attendant upon having a lover. The evil increases in a startling ratio; for these girls, so injudiciously educated, will, nine times out of ten, make injudicious mothers, aunts, and friends; thus follies will be accumulated unto the third and fourth generation. Young ladies should be taught that usefulness is happiness, and that all other things are but incidental. With regard to matrimonial speculations, they should be taught nothing! Leave the affections to nature and to truth, and all will end well. How many can I at this moment recollect, who have made themselves unhappy by marrying for the sake of the _name_ of being married! How many do I know, who have been instructed to such watchfulness in the game, that they have lost it by trumping their own tricks! One great cause of the vanity, extravagance and idleness that are so fast growing upon our young ladies, is the absence of _domestic education_. By domestic education, I do not mean the sending daughters into the kitchen some half dozen times, to weary the patience of the cook, and to boast of it the next day in the parlor. I mean two or three years spent with a mother, assisting her in her duties, instructing brothers and sisters, and taking care of their own clothes. This is the way to make them happy, as well as good wives; for, being early accustomed to the duties of life, they will sit lightly as well as gracefully upon them. But what time do modern girls have for the formation of quiet, domestic habits? Until sixteen they go to school; sometimes these years are judiciously spent, and sometimes they are half wasted; too often they are spent in acquiring the _elements_ of a thousand sciences, without being thoroughly acquainted with any; or in a variety of accomplishments of very doubtful value to people of moderate fortune. As soon as they leave school, (and sometimes before,) they begin a round of balls and parties, and staying with gay young friends. Dress and flattery take up all their thoughts. What time have they to learn to be useful? What time have they to cultivate the still and gentle affections, which must, in every situation of life, have such an important effect on a woman's character and happiness? As far as parents can judge what will be a daughter's station, education should be adapted to it; but it is well to remember that it is always easy to know how to spend riches, and always safe to know how to bear poverty. A superficial acquaintance with such accomplishments as music and drawing is useless and undesirable. They should not be attempted unless there is taste, talent, and time enough to attain excellence. I have frequently heard young women of moderate fortune say, 'I have not opened my piano these five years. I wish I had the money expended upon it. If I had employed as much time in learning useful things, I should have been better fitted for the cares of my family.' By these remarks I do not mean to discourage an attention to the graces of life. Gentility and taste are always lovely in all situations. But good things, carried to excess, are often productive of bad consequences. When accomplishments and dress interfere with the duties and permanent happiness of life, they are unjustifiable and displeasing; but where there is a solid foundation in mind and heart, all those elegancies are but becoming ornaments. Some are likely to have more use for them than others; and they are justified in spending more time and money upon them. But no one should be taught to consider them valuable for mere parade and attraction. Making the education of girls such a series of 'man-traps,' makes the whole system unhealthy, by poisoning the motive. * * * * * In tracing evils of any kind, which exist in society, we must, after all, be brought up against the great cause of all mischief--_mismanagement in education_; and this remark applies with peculiar force to the leading fault of the present day, viz. extravagance. It is useless to expend our ingenuity in purifying the stream, unless the fountain be cleansed. If young men and young women are brought up to consider frugality contemptible, and industry degrading, it is vain to expect they will at once become prudent and useful, when the cares of life press heavily upon them. Generally speaking, when misfortune comes upon those who have been accustomed to thoughtless expenditure, it sinks them to discouragement, or, what is worse, drives them to desperation. It is true there are exceptions. There are a few, an honorable few, who, late in life, with Roman severity of resolution, learn the long-neglected lesson of economy. But how small is the number, compared with the whole mass of the population! And with what bitter agony, with what biting humiliation, is the hard lesson often learned! How easily might it have been engrafted on _early habits_, and naturally and gracefully 'grown with their growth, and strengthened with their strength!' Yet it was but lately that I visited a family, not of 'moderate fortune,' but of no fortune at all; one of those people who live 'nobody knows how;' and I found a young girl, about sixteen, practising on the piano, while an elderly lady beside her was darning her stockings. I was told (for the mother was proud of bringing up her child so genteelly) that the daughter had almost forgotten how to sew, and that a woman was hired into the house to do her mending! 'But why,' said I, 'have you suffered your daughter to be ignorant of so useful an employment? If she is poor, the knowledge will be necessary to her; if she is rich, it is the easiest thing in the world to lay it aside, if she chooses; she will merely be a better judge whether her work is well done by others.' 'That is true,' replied the mother; 'and I always meant she should learn; but she never has seemed to have any time. When she was eight years old, she could put a shirt together pretty well; but since that, her music, and her dancing, and her school, have taken up her whole time. I did mean she should learn some domestic habits this winter; but she has so many visiters, and is obliged to go out so much, that I suppose I must give it up. I don't like to say too much about it; for, poor girl! she does so love company, and she does so hate anything like care and confinement! _Now_ is her time to enjoy herself, you know. Let her take all the comfort she can, while she is single!' 'But,' said I, 'you wish her to marry some time or other; and, in all probability, she will marry. When will she learn how to perform the duties, which are necessary and important to every mistress of a family?' 'Oh, she will learn them when she is obliged to,' answered the injudicious mother; 'at all events, I am determined she shall enjoy herself while she is young.' And this is the way I have often heard mothers talk! Yet, could parents foresee the almost inevitable consequences of such a system, I believe the weakest and vainest would abandon the false and dangerous theory. What a lesson is taught a girl in that sentence, '_Let her enjoy herself all she can, while she is single_!' Instead of representing domestic life as the gathering place of the deepest and purest affections; as the sphere of woman's _enjoyments_ as well as of her _duties_; as, indeed, the whole world to her; that one pernicious sentence teaches a girl to consider matrimony desirable because 'a good match' is a triumph of vanity, and it is deemed respectable to be 'well settled in the world;' but that it is a necessary sacrifice of her freedom and her gayety. And then how many affectionate dispositions have been trained into heartlessness, by being taught that the indulgence of indolence and vanity were necessary to their happiness; and that to have this indulgence, they _must_ marry money! But who that marries for money, in this land of precarious fortunes, can tell how soon they will lose the glittering temptation, to which they have been willing to sacrifice so much? And even if riches last as long as life, the evil is not remedied. Education has given a wrong end and aim to their whole existence; they have been taught to look for happiness where it never can be found, viz. in the absence of all occupation, or the unsatisfactory and ruinous excitement of fashionable competition. The difficulty is, education does not usually point the female heart to its only true resting-place. That dear English word '_home_,' is not half so powerful a talisman as '_the world_.' Instead of the salutary truth, that happiness is _in_ duty, they are taught to consider the two things totally distinct; and that whoever seeks one, must sacrifice the other. The fact is, our girls have no _home education_. When quite young, they are sent to schools where no feminine employments, no domestic habits, can be learned; and there they continue till they 'come out' into the world. After this, few find any time to arrange, and make use of, the mass of elementary knowledge they have acquired; and fewer still have either leisure or taste for the inelegant, every-day duties of life. Thus prepared, they enter upon matrimony. Those early habits, which would have made domestic care a light and easy task, have never been taught, for fear it would interrupt their happiness; and the result is, that when cares come, as come they must, they find them misery. I am convinced that indifference and dislike between husband and wife are more frequently occasioned by this great error in education, than by any other cause. The bride is awakened from her delightful dream, in which carpets, vases, sofas, white gloves, and pearl earrings, are oddly jumbled up with her lover's looks and promises. Perhaps she would be surprised if she knew exactly how _much_ of the fascination of being engaged was owing to the aforesaid inanimate concern. Be that as it will, she is awakened by the unpleasant conviction that cares devolve upon her. And what effect does this produce upon her character? Do the holy and tender influences of domestic love render self-denial and exertion a bliss? No! They would have done so, had she been _properly educated_; but now she gives way to unavailing fretfulness and repining; and her husband is at first pained, and finally disgusted, by hearing, 'I never knew what care was when I lived in my father's house.' 'If I were to live my life over again, I would remain single as long as I could, without the risk of being an old maid.' How injudicious, how short-sighted is the policy, which thus mars the whole happiness of life, in order to make a few brief years more gay and brilliant! I have known many instances of domestic ruin and discord produced by this mistaken indulgence of mothers. _I never knew but one, where the victim had moral courage enough to change all her early habits._ She was a young, pretty, and very amiable girl; but brought up to be perfectly useless; a rag baby would, to all intents and purposes, have been as efficient a partner. She married a young lawyer, without property, but with good and increasing practice. She meant to be a good wife, but she did not know how. Her wastefulness involved him in debt. He did not reproach, though he tried to convince and instruct her. She loved him; and weeping replied, 'I try to do the best I can; but when I lived at home, mother always took care of everything.' Finally, poverty came upon him 'like an armed man;' and he went into a remote town in the Western States to teach a school. His wife folded her hands, and cried; while he, weary and discouraged, actually came home from school to cook his own supper. At last, his patience, and her real love for him, impelled her to exertion. She promised to learn to be useful, if he would teach her. And she did learn! And the change in her habits gradually wrought such a change in her husband's fortune, that she might bring her daughters up in idleness, had not experience taught her that economy, like grammar, is a very hard and tiresome study, after we are twenty years old. Perhaps some will think the evils of which I have been speaking are confined principally to the rich; but I am convinced they extend to all classes of people. All manual employment is considered degrading; and those who are compelled to do it, try to conceal it. A few years since, very respectable young men at our colleges, cut their own wood, and blacked their own shoes. Now, how few, even of the sons of plain farmers and industrious mechanics, have moral courage enough to do without a servant; yet when they leave college, and come out into the battle of life, they _must_ do without servants; and in these times it will be fortunate if one half of them get what is called 'a decent living,' even by rigid economy and patient toil. Yet I would not that servile and laborious employment should be forced upon the young. I would merely have each one educated according to his probable situation in life; and be taught that whatever is his duty, is honorable; and that no merely external circumstance can in reality injure true dignity of character. I would not cramp a boy's energies by compelling him always to cut wood, or draw water; but I would teach him not to be ashamed, should his companions happen to find him doing either one or the other. A few days since, I asked a grocer's lad to bring home some articles I had just purchased at his master's. The bundle was large; he was visibly reluctant to take it; and wished very much that I should send for it. This, however, was impossible; and he subdued his pride; but when I asked him to take back an empty bottle which belonged to the store, he, with a mortified look, begged me to do it up neatly in a paper, that it might look like a small package. Is this boy likely to be happier for cherishing a foolish pride, which will forever be jarring against his duties? Is he in reality one whit more respectable than the industrious lad who sweeps stores, or carries bottles, without troubling himself with the idea that all the world is observing his little unimportant self? For, in relation to the rest of the world, each individual is unimportant; and he alone is wise who forms his habits according to his own wants, his own prospects, and his own principles. TRAVELLING AND PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. There is one kind of extravagance rapidly increasing in this country, which, in its effects on our purses and our _habits_, is one of the worst kinds of extravagance; I mean the rage for travelling, and for public amusements. The good old home habits of our ancestors are breaking up--it will be well if our virtue and our freedom do not follow them! It is easy to laugh at such prognostics,--and we are well aware that the virtue we preach is considered almost obsolete,--but let any reflecting mind inquire how decay has begun in all republics, and then let them calmly ask themselves whether we are in no danger, in departing thus rapidly from the simplicity and industry of our forefathers. Nations do not plunge _at once_ into ruin--governments do not change _suddenly_--the causes which bring about the final blow, are scarcely perceptible in the beginning; but they increase in numbers, and in power; they press harder and harder upon the energies and virtue of a people; and the last steps only are alarmingly hurried and irregular. A republic without industry, economy, and integrity, is Samson shorn of his locks. A luxurious and idle _republic_! Look at the phrase!--The words were never made to be married together; every body sees it would be death to one of them. And are not _we_ becoming luxurious and idle? Look at our steamboats, and stages, and taverns! There you will find mechanics, who have left debts and employment to take care of themselves, while they go to take a peep at the great canal, or the opera-dancers. There you will find domestics all agog for their wages-worth of travelling; why should they look out for 'a rainy day?' There are hospitals enough to provide for them in sickness; and as for marrying, they have no idea of that, till they can find a man who will support them genteelly. There you will find mothers, who have left the children at home with Betsey, while they go to improve their minds at the Mountain House, or the Springs. If only the rich did this, all would be well. They benefit others, and do not injure themselves. In any situation, idleness is their curse, and uneasiness is the tax they must pay for affluence; but their restlessness is as great a benefit to the community as the motions of Prince Esterhazy, when at every step the pearls drop from his coat. People of moderate fortune have just as good a right to travel as the wealthy; but is it not unwise? Do they not injure themselves and their families? You say travelling is cheap. So is staying at home. Besides, do you count _all_ the costs? The money you pay for stages and steamboats is the smallest of the items. There are clothes bought which would not otherwise be bought; those clothes are worn out and defaced twenty times as quick as they would have been at home; children are perhaps left with domestics, or strangers; their health and morals, to say the least, under very uncertain influence; your substance is wasted in your absence by those who have no self-interest to prompt them to carefulness; you form an acquaintance with a multitude of people, who will be sure to take your house in their way, when they travel next year; and finally, you become so accustomed to excitement, that home appears insipid, and it requires no small effort to return to the quiet routine of your duties. And what do you get in return for all this? Some pleasant scenes, which will soon seem to you like a dream; some pleasant faces, which you will never see again; and much of crowd, and toil, and dust, and bustle. I once knew a family which formed a striking illustration of my remarks. The man was a farmer, and his wife was an active, capable woman, with more of ambition than sound policy. Being in debt, they resolved to take fashionable boarders from Boston, during the summer season. These boarders, at the time of their arrival, were projecting a jaunt to the Springs; and they talked of Lake George crystals, and Canadian music, and English officers, and 'dark blue Ontario,' with its beautiful little brood of _lakelets_, as Wordsworth would call them; and how one lady was dressed superbly at Saratoga; and how another was scandalized for always happening to drop her fan in the vicinity of the wealthiest beaux. All this fired the quiet imagination of the good farmer's wife; and no sooner had the boarders departed to enjoy themselves in spite of heat, and dust, and fever-and-ague, than she stated her determination to follow them. 'Why have we not as good a right to travel, as they have?' said she; 'they have paid us money enough to go to Niagara with; and it really is a shame for people to live and die so ignorant of their own country.' 'But then we want the money to pay for that stock, which turned out unlucky, you know.' 'Oh, that can be done next summer; we can always get boarders enough, and those that will pay handsomely. Give the man a mortgage of the house, to keep him quiet till next summer.' 'But what will you do with the children?' 'Sally is a very smart girl; I am sure she will take as good care of them as if I were at home.' To make a long story short, the farmer and his wife concluded to go to Quebec, just to show they had a _right_ to put themselves to inconvenience, if they pleased. They went; spent all their money; had a watch stolen from them in the steamboat; were dreadfully sea-sick off Point Judith; came home tired, and dusty; found the babe sick, because Sally had stood at the door with it, one chilly, damp morning, while she was feeding the chickens; and the eldest girl screaming and screeching at the thoughts of going to bed, because Sally, in order to bring her under her authority, had told her a frightful 'raw-head-and-bloody-bones' story; the horse had broken into the garden, and made wretched work with the vegetables; and fifty pounds of butter had become fit for the grease-pot, because the hoops of the firkin had sprung, and Sally had so much to do, that she never thought of going to see whether the butter was covered with brine. After six or eight weeks, the children were pretty well restored to orderly habits; and the wife, being really a notable and prudent woman, resolved to make up for her lost butter and vegetables, by doing without help through the winter. When summer came, they should have boarders, she said; and sure enough, they had boarders in plenty; but not profitable ones. There were forty cousins, at whose houses they had stopped; and twenty people who had been very polite to them on the way; and it being such a pleasant season, and _travelling so cheap_, everyone of these people felt they had _a right_ to take a journey; and they could not help passing a day or two with their friends at the farm. One after another came, till the farmer could bear it no longer. 'I tell you what, wife,' said he, 'I am going to jail as fast as a man can go. If there is no other way of putting a stop to this, I'll sell every bed in the house, except the one we sleep on.' And sure enough, he actually did this; and when the forty-first cousin came down on a friendly visit, on account of what her other cousins had told her about the cheapness of travelling, she was told they should be very happy to sleep on the floor, for the sake of accommodating her, for a night or two; but the truth was, they had but one bed in the house. This honest couple are now busy in paying off their debts, and laying by something for their old age. He facetiously tells how he went to New York to have his watch stolen, and his boots blacked like a looking glass; and she shows her Lake George diamond ring, and tells how the steamboat was crowded, and how afraid she was the boiler would burst, and always ends by saying, 'After all, it was a toil of pleasure.' However, it is not our farmers, who are in the greatest danger of this species of extravagance; for we look to that class of people, as the strongest hold of republican simplicity, industry, and virtue. It is from adventurers, swindlers, broken down traders,--all that rapidly increasing class of idlers, too genteel to work, and too proud to beg,--that we have most reason to dread examples of extravagance. A very respectable tavern-keeper has lately been driven to establish a rule, that no customer shall be allowed to rise from the table till he pays for his meal. 'I know it is rude to give such orders to honest men,' said he, 'and three years ago I would as soon cut off my hand as have done it; but now, travelling is so cheap, that all sorts of characters are on the move; and I find more than half of them will get away, if they can, without paying a cent.' With regard to public amusements, it is still worse. Rope-dancers, and opera-dancers, and all sorts of dancers, go through the country, making thousands as they go; while, from high to low, there is one universal, despairing groan of 'hard times,' 'dreadful gloomy times!' These things ought not to be. People who have little to spend, should partake sparingly of useless amusements; those who are in debt should deny themselves entirely. Let me not be supposed to inculcate exclusive doctrines. I would have every species of enjoyment as open to the poor as to the rich; but I would have people consider well how they are likely to obtain the greatest portion of happiness, taking the whole of their lives into view; I would not have them sacrifice permanent respectability and comfort to present gentility and love of excitement; above all, I caution them to beware that this love of excitement does not grow into a habit, till the fireside becomes a dull place, and the gambling table and the bar-room finish what the theatre began. If men would have women economical, they must be so themselves. What motive is there for patient industry, and careful economy, when the savings of a month are spent at one trip to Nahant, and more than the value of a much desired, but rejected dress, is expended during the stay of a new set of comedians? We make a great deal of talk about being republicans; if we are so in reality, we shall stay at home, to mind our business, and educate our children, so long as one or the other need our attention, or can suffer by our neglect. * * * * * PHILOSOPHY AND CONSISTENCY. Among all the fine things Mrs. Barbauld wrote, she never wrote anything better than her essay on the Inconsistency of Human Expectations. 'Everything,' says she, 'is marked at a settled price. Our time, our labor, our ingenuity, is so much ready money, which we are to lay out to the best advantage. Examine, compare, choose, reject; but stand to your own judgment; and do not, like children, when you have purchased one thing, repine that you do not possess another, which you would not purchase. Would you be rich? Do you think _that_ the single point worth sacrificing everything else to? You may then be rich. Thousands have become so from the lowest beginnings by toil, and diligence, and attention to the minutest articles of expense and profit. But you must give up the pleasures of leisure, of an unembarrassed mind, and of a free, unsuspicious temper. You must learn to do hard, if not unjust things; and as for the embarrassment of a delicate and ingenuous spirit, it is necessary for you to get rid of it as fast as possible. You must not stop to enlarge your mind, polish your taste, or refine your sentiments; but must keep on in one beaten track, without turning aside to the right hand or the left. "But," you say, "I cannot submit to drudgery like this; I feel a spirit above it." 'Tis well; be above it then; only do not repine because you are not rich. Is knowledge the pearl of price in your estimation? That too may be purchased by steady application, and long, solitary hours of study and reflection. "But," says the man of letters, "what a hardship is it that many an illiterate fellow, who cannot construe the motto on his coach, shall raise a fortune, and make a figure, while I possess merely the common conveniences of life." Was it for fortune, then, that you grew pale over the midnight lamp, and gave the sprightly years of youth to study and reflection? You then have mistaken your path, and ill employed your industry. "What reward have I then for all my labor?" What reward! A large comprehensive soul, purged from vulgar fears and prejudices, able to interpret the works of man and God. A perpetual spring of fresh ideas, and the conscious dignity of superior intelligence. Good Heaven! what other reward can you ask! "But is it not a reproach upon the economy of Providence that such a one, who is a mean, dirty fellow, should have amassed wealth enough to buy half a nation?" Not in the least. He made himself a mean, dirty fellow, for that very end. He has paid his health, his conscience, and his liberty for it. Do you envy him his bargain? Will you hang your head in his presence, because he outshines you in equipage and show? Lift up your brow with a noble confidence, and say to yourself, "I have not these things, it is true; but it is because I have not desired, or sought them; it is because I possess something better. I have chosen my lot! I am content, and satisfied." The most characteristic mark of a great mind is to choose some one object, which it considers important, and pursue that object through life. If we expect the purchase, we must pay the price.' 'There is a pretty passage in one of Lucian's dialogues, where Jupiter complains to Cupid, that, though he has had so many intrigues, he was never sincerely beloved. "In order to be loved," says Cupid, "you must lay aside your aegis and your thunder-bolts; you must curl and perfume your hair, and place a garland on your head, and walk with a soft step, and assume a winning, obsequious deportment." "But," replied Jupiter, "I am not willing to resign so much of my dignity." "Then," returned Cupid, "leave off desiring to be loved."' These remarks by Mrs. Barbauld are full of sound philosophy. Who has not observed, in his circle of acquaintance, and in the recesses of his own heart, the same inconsistency of expectation, the same peevishness of discontent. Says Germanicus, 'There is my dunce of a classmate has found his way into Congress, and is living amid the perpetual excitement of intellectual minds, while I am cooped up in an ignorant country parish, obliged to be at the beck and call of every old woman, who happens to feel uneasy in her mind.' 'Well, Germanicus, the road to political distinction was as open to you as to him; why did you not choose it?' 'Oh, I could not consent to be the tool of a party; to shake hands with the vicious, and flatter fools. It would gall me to the quick to hear my opponents accuse me of actions I never committed, and of motives which worlds would not tempt me to indulge.' Since Germanicus is wise enough to know the whistle costs more than it is worth, is he not unreasonable to murmur because he has not bought it? Matrona always wears a discontented look when she hears the praises of Clio. 'I used to write her composition for her, when we were at school together,' says she; 'and now she is quite the idol of the literary world; while I am never heard of beyond my own family, unless some one happens to introduce me as the friend of Clio.' 'Why not write, then; and see if the world will not learn to introduce Clio as the friend of Matrona?' 'I write! not for the world! I could not endure to pour my soul out to an undiscerning multitude; I could not see my cherished thoughts caricatured by some soulless reviewer, and my favorite fancies expounded by the matter-of-fact editor of some stupid paper.' Why does Matrona envy what she knows costs so much, and is of so little value? Yet so it is, through all classes of society. All of us covet some neighbor's possession, and think our lot would have been happier, had it been different from what it is. Yet most of us could obtain worldly distinctions, if our habits and inclinations allowed us to pay the immense price at which they must be purchased. True wisdom lies in finding out all the advantages of a situation in which we _are_ placed, instead of imagining the enjoyments of one in which we are _not_ placed. Such philosophy is rarely found. The most perfect sample I ever met was an old woman, who was apparently the poorest and most forlorn of the human species--so true is the maxim which all profess to believe, and which none act upon invariably, viz. that happiness does not depend on outward circumstances. The wise woman, to whom I have alluded, _walks_ to Boston, from a distance of twenty-five or thirty miles, to sell a bag of brown thread and stockings; and then patiently foots it back again with her little gains. Her dress, though tidy, is a grotesque collection of 'shreds and patches,' coarse in the extreme. 'Why don't you come down in a wagon?' said I, when I observed that she was soon to become a mother, and was evidently wearied with her long journey. 'We h'an't got any horse,' replied she; 'the neighbors are very kind to me, but they can't spare their'n; and it would cost as much to hire one, as all my thread will come to.' 'You have a husband--don't he do anything for you.' 'He is a good man; he does all he can; but he's a cripple and an invalid. He reels my yarn, and _specks_ the children's shoes. He's as kind a husband as a woman need to have.' 'But his being a cripple is a heavy misfortune to you,' said I. 'Why, ma'am, I don't look upon it in that light,' replied the thread-woman; 'I consider that I've great reason to be thankful he never took to any bad habits.' 'How many children have you?' 'Six sons, and five _darters_, ma'am.' 'Six sons and five daughters! What a family for a poor woman to support!' 'It's a family, surely, ma'am; but there an't one of 'em I'd be willing to lose. They are as good children as need to be--all willing to work, and all clever to me. Even the littlest boy, when he gets a cent now and then for doing a _chore_, will be sure and bring it to ma'am.' 'Do your daughters spin your thread?' 'No, ma'am; as soon as they are old enough, they go out to _sarvice_. I don't want to keep them always delving for me; they are always willing to give me what they can; but it is right and fair they should do a little for themselves. I do all my spinning after the folks are abed.' 'Don't you think you should be better off, if you had no one but yourself to provide for?' 'Why, no, ma'am, I don't. If I hadn't been married, I should always have had to work as hard as I could; and now I can't do more than that. My children are a great comfort to me; and I look forward to the time when they'll do as much for me as I have done for them.' Here was true philosophy! I learned a lesson from that poor woman which I shall not soon forget. If I wanted true, hearty, well principled service, I would employ children brought up by such a mother. * * * * * REASONS FOR HARD TIMES. Perhaps there never was a time when the depressing effects of stagnation in business were so universally felt, all the world over, as they are now.--The merchant sends out old dollars, and is lucky if he gets the same number of new ones in return; and he who has a share in manufactures, has bought a 'bottle imp,' which he will do well to hawk about the street for the lowest possible coin. The effects of this depression must of course be felt by all grades of society. Yet who that passes through Cornhill at one o'clock, and sees the bright array of wives and daughters, as various in their decorations as the insects, the birds and the shells, would believe that the community was staggering under a weight which almost paralyzes its movements? 'Everything is so cheap,' say the ladies, 'that it is inexcusable not to dress well.' But do they reflect _why_ things are so cheap? Do they know how much wealth has been sacrificed, how many families ruined, to produce this boasted result? Do they not know enough of the machinery of society, to suppose that the stunning effect of crash after crash, may eventually be felt by those on whom they depend for support? Luxuries are cheaper now than necessaries were a few years since; yet it is a lamentable fact, that it costs more to live now than it did formerly. When silk was nine shillings per yard, seven or eight yards sufficed for a dress; now it is four or five shillings, sixteen or twenty yards will hardly satisfy the mantuamaker. If this extravagance were confined to the wealthiest classes, it would be productive of more good than evil. But if the rich have a new dress every fortnight, people of moderate fortune will have one every month. In this way, finery becomes the standard of respectability; and a man's cloth is of more consequence than his character. Men of fixed salaries spend every cent of their income, and then leave their children to depend on the precarious charity and reluctant friendship of a world they have wasted their substance to please. Men who rush into enterprise and speculation, keep up their credit by splendor; and should they sink, they and their families carry with them extravagant habits to corrode their spirits with discontent, perchance to tempt them into crime. 'I know we are extravagant,' said one of my acquaintance, the other day; 'but how can I help it? My husband does not like to see his wife and daughters dress more meanly than those with whom they associate.' 'Then, my dear lady, your husband has not as much moral dignity and moral courage as I thought he had. He should be content to see his wife and daughters respected for neatness, good taste, and attractive manners.' 'This all sounds very well in talk,' replied the lady; 'but, say what you will about pleasing and intelligent girls, nobody will attend to them unless they dress in the fashion. If my daughters were to dress in the plain, neat style you recommend, they would see all their acquaintance asked to dance more frequently than themselves, and not a gentleman would join them in Cornhill.' 'I do not believe this in so extensive a sense as you do. Girls may appear genteelly without being extravagant, and though some fops may know the most approved color for a ribbon, or the newest arrangement for trimming, I believe gentlemen of real character merely notice whether a lady's dress is generally in good taste, or not. But, granting your statement to be true, in its widest sense, of what consequence is it? How much will the whole happiness of your daughter's life be affected by her dancing some fifty times less than her companions, or wasting some few hours less in the empty conversation of coxcombs? A man often admires a style of dress, which he would not venture to support in a wife. Extravagance has prevented many marriages, and rendered still more unhappy. And should your daughters fail in forming good connexions, what have you to leave them, save extravagant habits, too deeply rooted to be eradicated. Think you those who now laugh at them for a soiled glove, or an unfashionable ribbon, will assist their poverty, or cheer their neglected old age? No; they would find them as cold and selfish as they are vain. A few thousands in the bank are worth all the fashionable friends in Christendom.' Whether my friend was convinced, or not, I cannot say; but I saw her daughters in Cornhill, the next week, with new French hats and blonde veils. It is really melancholy to see how this fever of extravagance rages, and how it is sapping the strength of our happy country. It has no bounds; it pervades all ranks, and characterizes all ages. I know the wife of a pavier, who spends her three hundred a year in 'outward adorning,' and who will not condescend to speak to her husband, while engaged in his honest calling. Mechanics, who should have too high a sense of their own respectability to resort to such pitiful competition, will indulge their daughters in dressing like the wealthiest; and a domestic would certainly leave you, should you dare advise her to lay up one cent of her wages. 'These things ought not to be.' Every man and every woman should lay up some portion of their income, whether that income be great or small. * * * * * HOW TO ENDURE POVERTY. That a thorough, religious, _useful_ education is the best security against misfortune, disgrace and poverty, is universally believed and acknowledged; and to this we add the firm conviction, that, when poverty comes (as it sometimes will) upon the prudent, the industrious, and the well-informed, a judicious education is all-powerful in enabling them to _endure_ the evils it cannot always _prevent_. A mind full of piety and knowledge is always rich; it is a bank that never fails; it yields a perpetual dividend of happiness. In a late visit to the alms-house at ----, we saw a remarkable evidence of the truth of this doctrine. Mrs. ---- was early left an orphan. She was educated by an uncle and aunt, both of whom had attained the middle age of life. Theirs was an industrious, well-ordered, and cheerful family. Her uncle was a man of sound judgment, liberal feelings, and great knowledge of human nature. This he showed by the education of the young people under his care. He allowed them to waste no time; every moment must be spent in learning something, or in doing something. He encouraged an entertaining, lively style of conversation, but discountenanced all remarks about persons, families, dress, and engagements; he used to say, parents were not aware how such topics frittered away the minds of young people, and what inordinate importance they learned to attach to them, when they heard them constantly talked about. In his family, Sunday was a happy day; for it was made a day of religious instruction, without any unnatural constraint upon the gayety of the young. The Bible was the text book; the places mentioned in it were traced on maps; the manners and customs of different nations were explained; curious phenomena in the natural history of those countries were read; in a word, everything was done to cherish a spirit of humble, yet earnest inquiry. In this excellent family Mrs. ---- remained till her marriage. In the course of fifteen years, she lost her uncle, her aunt, and her husband. She was left destitute, but supported herself comfortably by her own exertions, and retained the respect and admiration of a large circle of friends. Thus she passed her life in cheerfulness and honor during ten years; at the end of that time, her humble residence took fire from an adjoining house in the night time, and she escaped by jumping from the chamber window. In consequence of the injury received by this fall, her right arm was amputated, and her right leg became entirely useless. Her friends were very kind and attentive; and for a short time she consented to live on their bounty; but, aware that the claims on private charity are very numerous, she, with the genuine independence of a strong mind, resolved to avail herself of the public provision for the helpless poor. The name of going to the alms-house had nothing terrifying or disgraceful to _her_; for she had been taught that _conduct_ is the real standard of respectability. She is there, with a heart full of thankfulness to the Giver of all things; she is patient, pious, and uniformly cheerful. She instructs the young, encourages the old, and makes herself delightful to all, by her various knowledge and entertaining conversation. Her character reflects dignity on her situation; and those who visit the establishment, come away with sentiments of respect and admiration for this voluntary resident of the alms-house. * * * * * What a contrast is afforded by the character of the woman who occupies the room next hers! She is so indolent and filthy, that she can with difficulty be made to attend to her own personal comfort; and even the most patient are worn out with her perpetual fretfulness. Her mind is continually infested with envy, hatred, and discontent She thinks Providence has dealt hardly with her; that all the world are proud and ungrateful; and that every one despises her because she is in the alms-house. This pitiable state of mind is the natural result of her education. Her father was a respectable mechanic, and might have been a wealthy one, had he not been fascinated by the beauty of a thoughtless, idle, showy girl, whom he made his wife. The usual consequences followed--he could not earn money so fast as she could spend it; the house became a scene of discord; the daughter dressed in the fashion; learned to play on the piano; was taught to think that being engaged in any useful employment was very ungenteel; and that to be _engaged to be married_ was the chief end and aim of woman; the father died a bankrupt; the weak and frivolous mother lingered along in beggary, for a while, and then died of vexation and shame. The friends of the family were very kind to the daughter; but her extreme indolence, her vanity, pertness, and ingratitude, finally exhausted the kindness of the most generous and forbearing; and as nothing could induce her to personal exertion, she was at length obliged to take shelter in the alms-house. Here her misery is incurable. She has so long been accustomed to think dress and parade the necessary elements of happiness, that she despises all that is done for her comfort; her face has settled into an expression which looks like an imbodied growl; every body is tired of listening to her complaints; and even the little children run away, when they see her coming. May not those who have children to educate, learn a good lesson from these women? Those who have wealth, have recently had many and bitter lessons to prove how suddenly riches may take to themselves wings; and those who _certainly_ have but little to leave, should indeed beware how they bestow upon their children, the accursed inheritance of indolent and extravagant habits. * * * * * APPENDIX TO THE AMERICAN FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE. Those sentences marked with a star relate to subjects mentioned in other parts of the book. To PRESERVE GREEN CURRANTS.--Currants maybe kept fresh for a year or more, if they are gathered when green, separated from the stems, put into dry, clean junk bottles, and corked very carefully, so as to exclude the air. They should be kept in a cool place in the cellar. CANDLES.--Very hard and durable candles are made in the following manner: Melt together ten ounces of mutton tallow, a quarter of an ounce of camphor, four ounces of beeswax, and two ounces of alum. Candles made of these materials burn with a very clear light. *VARNISHED FURNITURE.--If you wish to give a fine soft polish to varnished furniture, and remove any slight imperfections, rub it once or twice a week with pulverized rotten-stone and linseed oil, and afterward wipe clean with a soft silk rag. CREAM.--The quantity of cream on milk may be greatly increased by the following process: Have two pans ready in boiling hot water, and when the new milk is brought in, put it into one of these hot pans and cover it with the other. The quality as well as the thickness of the cream is improved. *TEETH.--Honey mixed with pure pulverized charcoal is said to be excellent to cleanse the teeth, and make them white. Lime-water with a little Peruvian bark is very good to be occasionally used by those who have defective teeth, or an offensive breath. TAINTED BUTTER.--Some good cooks say that bad butter may be purified in the following manner: Melt and skim it, then put into it a piece of _well-toasted_ bread; in a few minutes the butter will lose its offensive taste and smell; the bread will absorb it all. Slices of potato fried in rancid lard will in a great measure absorb the unpleasant taste. TOMATOES PIE.--Tomatoes make excellent pies. Skins taken off with scalding water, stewed twenty minutes or more, salted, prepared the same as rich squash pies, only an egg or two more. *It is a great improvement to the flavor of PUMPKIN PIES to boil the milk, stir the sifted pumpkin into it, and let them boil up together once or twice. The pumpkin swells almost as much as Indian meal, and of course absorbs more milk than when stirred together cold; but the taste of the pie is much improved. Some people cut pumpkin, string it, and dry it like apples. It is a much better way to boil and sift the pumpkin, then spread it out thin in tin plates, and dry hard in a warm oven. It will keep good all the year round, and a little piece boiled up in milk will make a batch of pies. *Most people think BRASS KETTLES for washing are not as likely to collect verdigris, if they are never cleaned in any other way than by washing in strong soap suds just before they are used. INK SPOTS.--If soaked in warm milk before the ink has a chance to dry, the spot may usually be removed. If it has dried in, rub table-salt upon it, and drop lemon-juice upon the salt. This answers nearly as well as the salts of lemon sold by apothecaries. If a lemon cannot be easily procured, vinegar, or sorrel-juice, will answer. White soap diluted with vinegar is likewise a good thing to take out ink spots. STARCH.--Frozen potatoes yield more flour for starch than fresh ones. The frost may be taken out by soaking them in cold water a few hours before cooking; if frozen very hard, it may be useful to throw a little saltpetre into the water. FEATHERS.--It is said that tumbled plumes may be restored to elasticity and beauty by dipping them in hot water, then shaking and drying them. ICY STEPS.--Salt strewed upon the door-steps in winter will cause the ice to crack, so that it can be easily removed. FLOWERS.--Flowers may be preserved fresh in tumblers or vases by putting a handful of salt in the water, to increase its coldness. WHITE-WASHING is said to last longer if the new-slaked lime be mixed with skim-milk. HORSE-FLIES.--Indigo-weed stuck plentifully about the harness tends to keep flies from horses. Some make a decoction of indigo-weed, and others of pennyroyal, and bathe horses with it, to defend them from insects. PINE APPLES will keep much better if the green crown at top be twisted off. The vegetation of the crown takes the goodness from the fruit, in the same way that sprouts injure vegetables. The crown can be stuck on for ornament, if necessary. *THE PILES.--Those who have tried other remedies for this disorder in vain, have found relief from the following medicine: Stew a handful of low mallows in about three gills of milk; strain it, and mix about half the quantity of West India molasses with it. As warm as is agreeable. WARTS.--It is said that if the top of a wart be wet and rubbed two or three times a day with a piece of unslaked lime, it cures the wart soon, and leaves no scar. *CANCERS.--The Indians have great belief in the efficacy of poultices of stewed cranberries, for the relief of _cancers_. They apply them fresh and warm every ten or fifteen minutes, night and day. Whether this will effect a cure I know not; I simply know that the Indians strongly recommend it. Salts, or some simple physic, is taken every day during the process. EAR-WAX.--Nothing is better than ear-wax to prevent the painful effects resulting from a wound by a nail, skewer, &c. It should be put on as soon as possible. Those who are troubled with cracked lips have found this remedy successful when others have failed. It is one of those sorts of cures, which are very likely to be laughed at; but I know of its having produced very beneficial results. *BURNS.--If a person who is burned will _patiently_ hold the injured part in water, it will prevent the formation of a blister. If the water be too cold, it may be slightly warmed, and produce the same effect. People in general are not willing to try it for a sufficiently long time. Chalk and hog's lard simmered together are said to make a good ointment for a burn. *BRUISES.--Constant application of warm water is very soothing to bruised flesh, and may serve to prevent bad consequences while other things are in preparation. SORE NIPPLES.--Put twenty grains of sugar of lead into a vial with one gill of rose-water; shake it up thoroughly; wet a piece of soft linen with this preparation, and put it on; renew this as often as the linen becomes dry. Before nursing, wash this off with something soothing; rose-water is very good; but the best thing is quince-seed warmed in a little cold tea until the liquid becomes quite glutinous. This application is alike healing and pleasant. A raw onion is an excellent remedy for the STING OF A WASP. CORNS.--A corn may be extracted from the foot by binding on half a raw cranberry, with the cut side of the fruit upon the foot. I have known a very old and troublesome corn drawn out in this way, in the course of a few nights. HEART-BURN.--Eat magnesia for the heart-burn. CHLORIDE OF LIME.--A room may be purified from offensive smells of any kind by a few spoonsful of chloride of lime dissolved in water. A good-sized saucer, or some similar vessel, is large enough for all common purposes. The article is cheap, and is invaluable in the apartment of an invalid. EGGS IN WINTER.--The reason hens do not usually lay eggs in the winter is that the gravel is covered up with snow, and therefore they are not furnished with lime to form the shells. If the bones left of meat, poultry, &c. are pounded and mixed with their food, or given to them alone, they will eat them very eagerly, and will lay eggs the same as in summer. Hens fed on oats are much more likely to lay well than those fed on corn. PEARLS.--In order to preserve the beauty of pearl ornaments, they should be carefully kept from dampness. A piece of paper torn off and rolled up, so as to present a soft, ragged edge, is the best thing to cleanse them with. VARNISHING GILDED FRAMES.--It is said that looking-glass frames may be cleansed with a damp cloth, without injury, provided they are varnished with the _pure white alcoholic varnish_, used for transferred engravings and other delicate articles of fancy-work. This would save the trouble of covering and uncovering picture-frames with the change of the seasons. I never heard how many coats of varnish were necessary, but I should think it would be safe to put on more than one. COLOGNE WATER.--One pint of alcohol, sixty drops of lavender, sixty drops of bergamot, sixty drops of essence of lemon, sixty drops of orange water. To be corked up, and well shaken. It is better for considerable age. GREASE SPOTS.--Magnesia rubbed upon the spot, covered with clean paper, and a warm iron placed above, will usually draw out grease. Where a considerable quantity of oil has been spilled, it will be necessary to repeat the operation a great many times, in order to extract it all. RECEIPT FOR MAKING EXCELLENT BREAD WITHOUT YEAST.--Scald about two handsful of Indian meal, into which put a little salt, and as much cold water as will make it rather warmer than new milk; then stir in wheat flour, till it is as thick as a family pudding, and set it down by the fire to rise. In about half an hour, it generally grows thin; you may sprinkle a little fresh flour on the top, and mind to turn the pot round, that it may not bake to the side of it. In three or four hours, if you mind the above directions, it will rise and ferment as if you had set it with hop yeast; when it does, make it up in soft dough, flour a pan, put in your bread, set it before the fire, covered up, turn it round to make it equally warm, and in about half an hour it will be light enough to bake. It suits best to bake in a Dutch oven, as it should be put into the oven as soon as it is light. RICE JELLY.--Boil a quarter of a pound of rice flour with half a pound of loaf sugar, in a quart of water, till the whole becomes one glutinous mass, then strain off the jelly and let it stand to cool. This food is very nourishing and beneficial to invalids. APPLE MARMALADE.--Scald apples till they will pulp from the core; take an equal weight of sugar in large lumps, and boil it in just water enough to dip the lumps well, until it can be skimmed, and is a thick syrup; mix this with the apple pulp, and simmer it on a quick fire for fifteen minutes. Keep it in pots covered with paper dipped in brandy. QUINCE MARMALADE.--To two pounds of quince put three quarters of a pound of nice sugar, and a pint of spring water. Boil them till they are tender; then take them up and bruise them; again put them in the liquor, and let them boil three quarters of an hour, then put it into jars, covered as mentioned above. Those who like things very sweet put an equal quantity of quince and sugar; but I think the flavor is less delicious. RASPBERRY JAM.--Take an equal quantity of fruit and sugar. Put the raspberries into a pan, boil and stir them constantly till juicy and well broken; add as much sugar, boil and skim it till it is reduced to a fine jam. Put it away in the same manner as other preserves. BLANC-MANGER.--Boil two ounces of isinglass in one pint and a half of new milk; strain it into one pint of thick cream. Sweeten it to your taste, add one cup of rose-water, boil it up once, let it settle, and put it in your moulds. Some prefer to boil two ounces of isinglass in three and a half pints of water for half an hour, then strain it to one pint and a half of cream, sweeten it, add a teacup of rose-water, and boil up once. Isinglass is the most expensive ingredient in blanc-manger. Some decidedly prefer the jelly of calves' feet. The jelly is obtained by boiling four feet in a gallon of water till reduced to a quart, strained, cooled, and skimmed. A pint of jelly to a pint of cream; in other respects done the same as isinglass blanc-manger. Some boil a stick of cinnamon, or a grated lemon-peel, in the jelly. The moulds should be made thoroughly clean, and wet with cold water; the white of an egg, dropped in and shook round the moulds, will make it come out smooth and handsomely. PORK JELLY.--Some people like the jelly obtained from a boiled hand of pork, or the feet of pork, prepared in the same way as calf's-foot jelly; for which see page 31. The cloths, or jelly-bags, through which jelly is strained, should be first wet to prevent waste. CRANBERRY JELLY.--Mix isinglass jelly, or calf's-foot jelly, with a double quantity of cranberry juice, sweeten it with fine loaf sugar, boil it up once, and strain it to cool. RICH CUSTARDS.--Boil a pint of milk with lemon-peel and a stick of cinnamon. While it is boiling, beat up the yolks of five eggs with a pint of cream. When the milk tastes of the spice, pour it to the cream, stirring well; sweeten it to taste. Give the custard a simmer, till of a proper thickness, but do not let it boil. Stir the whole time one way. Season it with a little rose-water, and a few spoonsful of wine or brandy, as you may prefer. When put into cups, grate on nutmeg. TO PRESERVE PEACHES.--Scald peaches in boiling water, but do not let them boil; take them out and put them in cold water, then dry them in a sieve, and put them in long, wide-mouthed bottles. To a half dozen peaches put a quarter of a pound of clarified sugar; pour it over the peaches, fill up the bottles with brandy, and stop them close. COCOA-NUT CAKES.--Grate the meat of two cocoa-nuts, after pealing off the dark skin; allow an equal weight of loaf sugar, pounded and sifted, and the rind and juice of two lemons. Mix the ingredients well; make into cakes about as big as a nutmeg, with a little piece of citron in each. Bake them on buttered tin sheets about twenty minutes, in a moderately hot oven. *TO CLARIFY SUGAR.--Put half a pint of water to a pound of sugar; whip up the white of an egg and stir it in, and put it over the fire. When it first boils up, check it with a little cold water; the second time set it away to cool. In a quarter of an hour, skim the top, and turn the syrup off quickly, so as to leave the sediment which will collect at the bottom. *RICH WEDDING CAKE.--One pound three quarters of flour, one pound one quarter of butter, do. of sugar, one dozen eggs, two pounds of currants, one gill of wine, half a gill of brandy, one pound of citron, cut in slices, a wine-glass of rose-water, three quarters of an ounce of nutmeg, quarter of an ounce of cloves, the same of allspice. The rind of two lemons grated in. See page 72 for baking. STILL RICHER WEDDING CAKE.--Three pounds of flour, three pounds of butter, three pounds of sugar, twenty-eight eggs, six pounds of currants, and six pounds of seeded raisins; one ounce of cinnamon, one ounce of nutmeg, three quarters of an ounce of cloves, half an ounce of mace, one pound of citron, two glasses of brandy, two glasses of rose-water, and one glass of wine. For baking, see page 72. *FROSTING FOR CAKE.--It is a great improvement to squeeze a little lemon-juice into the egg and sugar prepared for frosting. It gives a fine flavor, and makes it extremely white. For frosting, see directions, page 72. WHIP SYLLABUB.--One pint of cream, one pint of wine, the juice and grated peel of a lemon, and the white of two eggs; sweeten it to your taste, put it into a deep vessel, and whip it to a light froth. Fill your glasses with the froth as it rises. It is a good plan to put some of the froth in a sieve, over a dish, and have it in readiness to heap upon the top of your glasses after you have filled them. Some people put a spoonful of marmalade or jelly at the bottom of the glasses, before they are filled. LOBSTER SALAD.--The meat of one lobster is extracted from the shell, and cut up fine. Have fresh hard lettuce cut up very fine; mix it with the lobster. Make a dressing, in a deep plate, of the yolks of four eggs cut up, a gill of sweet oil, a gill of vinegar, half a gill of mustard, half a teaspoonful of cayenne, half a teaspoonful of salt; all mixed well together. To be prepared just before eaten. Chicken salad is prepared in the same way, only chicken is used instead of lobster, and celery instead of lettuce. ESCALOPED OYSTERS.--Put crumbled bread around the sides and bottom of a buttered dish. Put oysters in a skillet, and let the heat just strike them through; then take them out of the shells, and rinse them thoroughly in the water they have stewed in. Put half of them on the layer of crumbled bread, and season with mace and pepper; cover them with crumbs of bread and bits of butter; put in the rest of the oysters, season and cover them in the same way. Strain their liquor, and pour over. If you fear they will be too salt, put fresh water instead. Bake fifteen or twenty minutes. FRIED OYSTERS.--After they are prepared from the shell, they are dipped in batter, made of eggs and crumbs, seasoned with nutmeg, mace and salt, stirred up well. Fried in lard till brown. VEGETABLE OYSTER.--This vegetable is something like a parsnip; is planted about the same time, ripens about the same time, and requires about the same cooking. It is said to taste very much like real oysters. It is cut in pieces, after being boiled, dipped in batter, and fried in the same way. It is excellent mixed with minced salt fish. PARTRIDGES should be roasted ten or fifteen minutes longer than chickens, that is, provided they are thick-breasted and plump. Being naturally dry, they should be plentifully basted with butter. * * * * * EXTRACTS FROM THE _ENGLISH_ FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE. [It was the intention of the author of the _American_ Frugal Housewife, to have given an Appendix from the _English_ Frugal Housewife; but upon examination, she found the book so little fitted to the wants of this country, that she has been able to extract but little.] CHEESE is to be chosen by its moist, smooth coat; if old cheese be rough-coated, ragged, or dry at top, beware of worms. If it be over-full of holes, moist and spongy, it is subject to maggots. If soft or perished places appear, try how deep they go, for the worst part may be hidden. EGGS.--To prove whether they are good or bad, hold the large end of the egg to your tongue; if it feels warm, it is new; but if cold, it is bad. In proportion to the heat or cold, is the goodness of the egg. Another way to know is to put the egg in a pan of cold water; the fresher the egg, the sooner it will fall to the bottom; if rotten, it will swim. If you keep your eggs in ashes, salt or bran, put the small end downwards; if you turn them endways once a week, they will keep some months. VEAL.--If the vein in the shoulder look blue or bright red, it is newly killed; but if black, green, or yellow, it is stale. The leg is known to be new by the stiffness of the joint. The head of a calf or a lamb is known by the eyes; if sunk or wrinkled, it is stale; if plump and lively, it is fresh. MUTTON.--If it be young, the flesh will pinch tender; if old, it will wrinkle and remain so. If young, the fat will easily part from the lean; if old, it will stick by strings and skins. Strong, rancid mutton feels spongy, and does not rise again easily, when dented. The flesh of ewe mutton is paler, of a closer grain, and parts more easily. BEEF.--Good beef has an open grain, and a tender, oily smoothness; a pleasant carnation color, and clear white suet, betoken good meat; yellow suet is not so good. PORK.--If young, the lean will break in pinching, and if you nip the skin with your nails, it will make a dent; the fat will be soft and pulpy, like lard. If the lean be tough, and the fat flabby and spongy, feeling rough, it is old, especially if the rind be stubborn, and you cannot nip it with your nails. Little kernels, like nail-shot, in the fat, are a sign that it is measly, and dangerous to be eaten. To judge of the age of POULTRY, see page 53. * * * * * CARVING. [WRITTEN FOR THE _AMERICAN_ FRUGAL HOUSEWIFE.] TO CARVE A TURKEY.--Fix the fork firmly on one side of the thin bone that rises in the centre of the breast; the fork should be placed _parallel_ with the bone, and as close to it as possible. Cut the meat from the breast lengthwise, in slices of about half an inch in thickness. Then turn the turkey upon the side nearest you, and cut off the leg and the wing; when the knife is passed between the limbs and the body, and pressed outward, the joint will be easily perceived. Then turn the turkey on the other side, and cut off the other leg and wing. Separate the drum-sticks from the leg-bones, and the pinions from the wings; it is hardly possible to mistake the joint. Cut the stuffing in thin slices, lengthwise. Take off the neck-bones, which are two triangular bones on each side of the breast; this is done by passing the knife from the back under the blade-part of each neck-bone, until it reaches the end; by raising the knife, the other branch will easily crack off. Separate the carcass from the back by passing the knife lengthwise from the neck downward. Turn the back upwards, and lay the edge of the knife across the back-bone, about midway between the legs and wings; at the same moment, place the fork within the lower part of the turkey, and lift it up; this will make the back-bone crack at the knife. The croup, or lower part of the back, being cut off, put it on the plate, with the rump from you, and split off the side-bones by forcing the knife through from the rump to the other end. The choicest parts of a turkey are the side-bones, the breast, and the thigh-bones. The breast and wings are called light meat; the thigh-bones and side-bones dark meat. When a person declines expressing a preference, it is polite to help to both kinds. A SIRLOIN OF BEEF.--Place the curving bone downward upon the dish. Cut the outside lengthwise, separating _each slice_ from the chine-bone, with the point of the knife. Some people cut through at the chine, slip the knife under, and cut the meat out in one mass, which they afterward cut in slices; but this is not the best, or the most proper way. The tender loin is on the inside; it is to be cut crosswise. A HAM.--Begin in the middle of a ham; cut across the bone, and take thin slices from either side. A GOOSE.--A goose is carved nearly as a turkey, only the breast should be cut in slices narrow and nearly square, instead of broad, like that of turkey; and before passing the knife to separate the legs and wings, the fork is to be placed in the small end of the leg-bone or pinion, and the part pressed close to the body, when the separation will be easy. Take off the merrythought, the neck-bones, and separate the leg-bones from the legs, and the pinions from the wings. The best parts are the breast, the thigh-bones, and the fleshy parts of the wings. A PIG.--If the pig be whole, cut off the head, and split it in halves along the back-bone. Separate the shoulders and legs by passing the knife under them in a circular direction. The best parts are the triangular piece of the neck, the ribs, legs and shoulders. A FILLET OF VEAL.--This is the thick part of the leg, and is to be cut smooth, round and close to the bone. Some prefer the outside piece. A little fat cut from the skirt is to be served to each plate. MUTTON.--A saddle of mutton is the two loins together, and the back-bone running down the middle to the tail. Slices are to be cut out parallel to the back-bone on either side. In a leg of mutton, the knife is to be entered in the thick fleshy part, as near the shank as will give a good slice. Cut towards the large end, and always to the bone. INDEX. Page Advice, General, 3 to 8 Alamode Beef, 49 Apple Pie, 67 Apple Pudding, 63 Apple Water, 82 Arrow-root Jelly, 31 Ashes, Care of, 16 Ashes for Land, 13 Asparagus, 34 Balm of Gilead, 28 Batter Pudding, 61 Beans and Peas, cooked, 51 Bed-bug Poison, 10 Beef, cooked, 48 Beef, corned, 40 Beef, salted, 40 Beef Soup, 48 Beef Tea, 32 Beer, 86 Bees, Sting of, 29 Bird's Nest Pudding, 63 Bleeding Wounds, 26 Blisters of Burns broken, 29 Bottles of Rose-water, 14 Bottles, Vials, &c., 14 Brass Andirons, &c., 11 Brass Kettles, 11 Brasses in Summer, 16 Bread, Yeast, &c., 76 to 80 Bread Pudding, 62 Brine, 40, 41, 42 Britannia Ware, 10 Brooms, 17 Broth, 49 Bruises, 36 Buffalo's Tongue, 43 Burdock Leaves, 37 Burns, 28 Butter, 15 Cabbages, 34 Cakes, 70 to 76 Calf's-foot Jelly, 31 Calf's Head, 47 Cancers, 26 Canker, 28 Carpets, 11 Carrot Pie, 67 Castor Oil, boiled, 29 Catsup, 35 Celery, 35 Cement, 19 Cheapest Pieces of Meat, 43 to 46 Cheeses, 14, 86 Cherry Pie, 67 Cherry Pudding, 63 Chickens, 53 Chicken Broth, 55 Chicken fricasseed, 54 Chicken Pie, 56 Chilblains, 27 Chocolate, 83 Cholera Morbus, 25, 29 Chopped Hands, 27 Chowder, 59 Cider Cake, 71 Clams, 58 Clothes Line, &c., 17 Clothes washed, 17 Cockroaches, 19 Cod, 57 Coffee, 82 Colds, 27, 36 Coloring, 38 to 40 Combs, 9, 20 Cooling Ointments, 29, 26 Corn, 34 Coughs, 36, 37 Court Plaster, 20 Cranberry Pie, 68 Cranberry Pudding, 61 Croup, or Quincy, 24 Cucumbers, 18 Cucumbers, pickled, 85 Cup Cake, 71 Currant Jelly, 81 Currant-leaf Tea, 13 Currant Wine, 82 Curry Fowl, 54 Custards, cheap, 65 Custard Pie, 68 Custard Pudding, 62 Cut Wounds, 25 Dandelions, 34 Diet Bread, 71 Dish-water, 16 Dough Nuts, 73 Ducks, 55 Dye Stuffs, 38 to 40 Dysentery, 25, 29, 37 Dyspepsia, 24, 37, 65 Dyspepsia Bread, 78 Ear-ache, 24 Earthen Ware, 11 Education of Daughters, 91 Eggs, 11 Egg Gruel, 31 Election Cake, 71 Elixir Proprietatis, 28 Faded Carpets, Cloth, &c., 9 Feathers, and Feather Beds, 12 Fevers, 28, 37 Fish, fried, 58 Fish, salt, 59, 60 Flour Pudding, 61 Fresh Meat in Summer, 17, 47 Fresh Wounds, 27 Fried Pork and Apples, 60 Fritters, or Flatjacks, 74 Furniture, 89 Geese, 55 Gingerbread, 70 Ginger Beer, 86 Glass, cut, 20 Glass Stoppers, 20 Gloves, white, 10, 13 Gold cleansed, 21 Gravy for Fish, 58 Gravy for Meat, 52 Gravy for Poultry, 57 Green Peas, 34 Gruel, 30 Haddock, 57, 58 Hair, 12 Hams, cured, 41, 42 Hasty Pudding, 65 Head-ache, 26, 36 Hearths, 18 Herbs, 36 to 37 Honey, 22 Horseradish, 18 Horseradish Leaves, 18 How to endure Poverty, 111 Icing for Cake, 72 Indian Cakes, 75, 76 Indian Puddings, 61 Inflamed Wounds, 29 Inflammation, 24 Iron, 11 Ironing, 17 Jaundice, 28 Knife Handles, 9 Knives, washed, 14 Lamb, cooked, 49 Lard, 14, 15 Leaven, 80 Lemon Brandy, 18 Lemon Syrup, 20 Lettuce, 35 Loaf Cake, 72 Lobster, 60 Lockjaw, 24 Mackerel, 53, 59, 60 Mangoes, 84 Marble Fireplaces, 12 Martinoes, 85 Mats for the Table, 10 Mattresses, 15 Maxims for Health, 87 to 88 Meal, 9 Meat, Choice of, 43 to 46 Meat, corned and salted, 40 to 43 Meat Pie, 56 Meat in Summer, 17, 47 Milk Porridge, 32 Mince Meat, 50 Mince Pies, 66 Molasses, 16, 29 Mortification, 27 Moths, 13 Mutton, corned and dried, 41 Mutton and Lamb, cooked, 49 Nasturtion-seed, pickled, 85 Navarino Bonnets, 13 Nerves, excited, 37 Night Sweats, 29 Ointment of Elder Buds, 29 Ointment of Ground Worms, 26 Ointment of House Leek, 26 Ointment of Lard, 29 Ointment of Lard and Sulphur, 28 Oil, sweet, 18 Old Clothes, 13 Onions, 33, 36 Ovens, heated, 78 Pancakes, 74 Paper, 15 Parsnips, 84 Pastry, 69 Peas, dry, 51 Peas, green, 34 Philosophy and Consistency, 104 Pickles, 84, 85 Pictures, covered, 17 Pie Crust, 69 Pig, roasted, 50 Pigeons, 56 Piles, 28, 37 Plum Puddings, 64 Potatoes, 34 Potato Cheese, 86 Pork, cooked, 49 Pork, salted, 40 Poultry, injured, 57 Poultry, young or old, 53 Preserves, 81 Provisions, 17 Prunes, stewed, 33 Puddings, 61 to 65 Pump Handle, 16 Pumpkin Pie, 66 Rags, 12, 16 Raspberry Shrub, 82 Rattlesnake-bite, 30 Reasons for Hard Times, 108 Red Ants, 21 Rennet Pudding, 62 Rhubarb or Persian Apple Pie, 69 Rice Bread, 78 Rice Pudding, 63 Ring-worms, 30 Run Rounds, 30 Rusty Crape, 11 Rusty Silk, 19 Rye Paste, 21 Sage Jelly, 32 Salt Fish, 59 Salt Fish, warmed, 60 Sauces for Pudding, 65 Sausages, 50 Short Cake, 75 Silk, washed, 14 Sinews, contracted, 26 Soap, 22, 23 Soda Powders, 20 Sore Mouth, 28 Sore Throat, 26 Soup, 48 Souse, 52 Sponge Cake, 71 Spots on Furniture, Cloth, &c., 10 Sprain, 24 Squashes, 34, 35 Squash Pie, 66 Starch, 19 Stewed Prunes, 33 Sting of Bees, 29 Stockings, 19 Straw Beds, 16 Straw Carpets, 21 Suet, 15 Sweet Marjoram, 37 Swellings, 27 Tapioca Jelly, 31 Tea, 84 Tea Cake, 71 Teeth, 12 Throat Distemper, 27 Toe Nails, 30 Tomatoes, 35 Tongue, 42, 43 Tooth-ache, 29 Tortoise-shell Combs, 20 Towels, 17 Travelling and Public Amusements, 99 Tripe, 52 Turkeys, 55 Vapor Bath, 27 Veal, cooked, 47 Vegetables, 33 to 36 Vials, 17 Vinegar, 15 Walnuts, pickled, 84 Wash-leather Gloves, 11 Water, purified, 14 Water, soft, 13 Wax, 22 Wedding Cake, 72 Wens, 27 White Kid Gloves, 10, 13 Whortleberry Pie, 67 Whortleberry Pudding, 64 Wicks of Lamps, Candles, &c., 10 Wine Whey, 32 Woollens, washed, 14 Woollen Yarn, 11 Worms, 24 Yeast, 79, 80 APPENDIX. Apple Marmalade, 118 Beef, 122 Blanc Manger, 118 Brass Kettles, 115 Bread without yeast, 117 Bruises, 116 Burns, 116 Butter, tainted, 114 Cancers, 116 Candles, 114 Carving, Directions for, 122, 123 Cheese, 121 Chloride of Lime, 117 Cocoa-nut Cakes, 119 Cologne Water, 117 Corns, 117 Cranberry Jelly, 119 Cream, 114 Currants, green, preserved, 114 Custards, rich, 119 Ear-Wax, 116 Eggs, 121 Eggs in winter, 117 Feathers, 115 Flowers, 115 Frosting for Cake, 120 Furniture, 114 Grease Spots, 117 Heart-Burn, 117 Horse-Flies, 115 Icy Steps, 115 Ink Spots, 115 Lobster Salad, 120 Mutton, 121 Oysters escaloped and fried, 120 Oysters, Vegetable, 121 Partridges, 121 Peaches, preserved, 119 Pearls, 117 Piles, 116 Pine Apples, 115 Pork, 122 Pork Jelly, 119 Pumpkin Pies, 115 Pumpkin, dried, 115 Quince Marmalade, 118 Raspberry Jam, 118 Rice Jelly, 118 Sore Nipples, 116 Starch, 115 Sugar, clarified, 20, 119 Teeth, 114 Tomatoes Pie, 114 Varnishing Gilded Frames, 117 Veal, 121 Warts, 116 Wasp-Sting, 116 Wedding Cake, rich, 119, 120 Whips, 120 White-washing, 115 
14475	----	[Illustration: MARY ERSKINE'S FARM] MARY ERSKINE A Franconia Story, BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ROLLO BOOKS. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS. FRANKLIN SQUARE. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by HARPER & BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office for the Southern District of New York. PREFACE. The development of the moral sentiments in the human heart, in early life,--and every thing in fact which relates to the formation of character,--is determined in a far greater degree by sympathy, and by the influence of example, than by formal precepts and didactic instruction. If a boy hears his father speaking kindly to a robin in the spring,--welcoming its coming and offering it food,--there arises at once in his own mind, a feeling of kindness toward the bird, and toward all the animal creation, which is produced by a sort of sympathetic action, a power somewhat similar to what in physical philosophy is called _induction_. On the other hand, if the father, instead of feeding the bird, goes eagerly for a gun, in order that he may shoot it, the boy will sympathize in that desire, and growing up under such an influence, there will be gradually formed within him, through the mysterious tendency of the youthful heart to vibrate in unison with hearts that are near, a disposition to kill and destroy all helpless beings that come within his power. There is no need of any formal instruction in either case. Of a thousand children brought up under the former of the above-described influences, nearly every one, when he sees a bird, will wish to go and get crumbs to feed it, while in the latter case, nearly every one will just as certainly look for a stone. Thus the growing up in the right atmosphere, rather than the receiving of the right instruction, is the condition which it is most important to secure, in plans for forming the characters of children. It is in accordance with this philosophy that these stories, though written mainly with a view to their moral influence on the hearts and dispositions of the readers, contain very little formal exhortation and instruction. They present quiet and peaceful pictures of happy domestic life, portraying generally such conduct, and expressing such sentiments and feelings, as it is desirable to exhibit and express in the presence of children. The books, however, will be found, perhaps, after all, to be useful mainly in entertaining and amusing the youthful readers who may peruse them, as the writing of them has been the amusement and recreation of the author in the intervals of more serious pursuits. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I.--JEMMY II.--THE BRIDE III.--MARY ERSKINE'S VISITORS IV.--CALAMITY V.--CONSULTATIONS VI.--MARY BELL IN THE WOODS VII.--HOUSE-KEEPING VIII.--THE SCHOOL IX.--GOOD MANAGEMENT X.--THE VISIT TO MARY ERSKINE'S ENGRAVINGS. MARY ERSKINE'S FARM--FRONTISPIECE. CATCHING THE HORSE THE LOG HOUSE MARY BELL AT THE BROOK THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS MRS. BELL MARY BELL AND QUEEN BESS MARY BELL GETTING BREAKFAST THE SCHOOL GOING TO COURT THE STRAWBERRY PARTY THE FRANCONIA STORIES. ORDER OF THE VOLUMES. MALLEVILLE. WALLACE. MARY ERSKINE. MARY BELL. BEECHNUT. RODOLPHUS. ELLEN LINN. STUYVESANT. CAROLINE. AGNES. SCENE OF THE STORY The country in the vicinity of Franconia, at the North. PRINCIPAL PERSONS MARY ERSKINE. ALBERT. PHONNY and MALLEVILLE, cousins, residing at the house of Phonny's mother. MRS. HENRY, Phonny's mother. ANTONIO BLANCHINETTE, a French boy, residing at Mrs. Henry's; commonly called Beechnut. MRS. BELL, a widow lady, living in the vicinity of Mrs. Henry's. MARY BELL, her daughter. MARY ERSKINE. CHAPTER I. JEMMY. Malleville and her cousin Phonny generally played together at Franconia a great part of the day, and at night they slept in two separate recesses which opened out of the same room. These recesses were deep and large, and they were divided from the room by curtains, so that they formed as it were separate chambers: and yet the children could speak to each other from them in the morning before they got up, since the curtains did not intercept the sound of their voices. They might have talked in the same manner at night, after they had gone to bed, but this was against Mrs. Henry's rules. One morning Malleville, after lying awake a few minutes, listening to the birds that were singing in the yard, and wishing that the window was open so that she could hear them more distinctly, heard Phonny's voice calling to her. "Malleville," said he, "are you awake?" "Yes," said Malleville, "are you?" "Yes," said Phonny, "I'm awake--but what a cold morning it is!" It was indeed a cold morning, or at least a very _cool_ one. This was somewhat remarkable, as it was in the month of June. But the country about Franconia was cold in winter, and cool in summer. Phonny and Malleville rose and dressed themselves, and then went down stairs. They hoped to find a fire in the sitting-room, but there was none. "How sorry I am," said Phonny. "But hark, I hear a roaring." "Yes," said Malleville; "it is the oven; they are going to bake." The back of the oven was so near to the partition wall which formed one side of the sitting-room, that the sound of the fire could be heard through it. The mouth of the oven however opened into another small room connected with the kitchen, which was called the baking-room. The children went out into the baking-room, to warm themselves by the oven fire. "I am very glad that it is a cool day," said Phonny, "for perhaps mother will let us go to Mary Erskine's. Should not you like to go?" "Yes," said Malleville, "very much. Where is it?" The readers who have perused the preceding volumes of this series will have observed that Mary Bell, who lived with her mother in the pleasant little farm-house at a short distance from the village, was always called by her full name, Mary Bell, and not ever, or scarcely ever, merely Mary. People had acquired the habit of speaking of her in this way, in order to distinguish her from another Mary who lived with Mrs. Bell for several years. This other Mary was Mary Erskine. Mary Erskine did not live now at Mrs. Bell's, but at another house which was situated nearly two miles from Mrs. Henry's, and the way to it was by a very wild and unfrequented road. The children were frequently accustomed to go and make Mary Erskine a visit; but it was so long a walk that Mrs. Henry never allowed them to go unless on a very cool day. At breakfast that morning Phonny asked his mother if that would not be a good day for them to go and see Mary Erskine. Mrs. Henry said that it would be an excellent day, and that she should be very glad to have them go, for there were some things there to be brought home. Besides Beechnut was going to mill, and he could carry them as far as Kater's corner. Kater's corner was a place where a sort of cart path, branching off from the main road, led through the woods to the house where Mary Erskine lived. It took its name from a farmer, whose name was Kater, and whose house was at the corner where the roads diverged. The main road itself was very rough and wild, and the cart path which led from the corner was almost impassable in summer, even for a wagon, though it was a very romantic and beautiful road for travelers on horseback or on foot. In the winter the road was excellent: for the snow buried all the roughness of the way two or three feet deep, and the teams which went back and forth into the woods, made a smooth and beautiful track for every thing on runners, upon the top of it. Malleville and Phonny were very much pleased with the prospect of riding a part of the way to Mary Erskine's, with Beechnut, in the wagon. They made themselves ready immediately after breakfast, and then went and sat down upon the step of the door, waiting for Beechnut to appear. Beechnut was in the barn, harnessing the horse into the wagon. Malleville sat down quietly upon the step while waiting for Beechnut. Phonny began to amuse himself by climbing up the railing of the bannisters, at the side of the stairs. He was trying to poise himself upon the top of the railing and then to work himself up the ascent by pulling and pushing with his hands and feet against the bannisters themselves below. "I wish you would not do that," said Malleville. "I think it is very foolish, for you may fall and hurt yourself." "No," said Phonny. "It is not foolish. It is very useful for me to learn to climb." So saying he went on scrambling up the railing of the bannisters as before. Just then Beechnut came along through the yard, towards the house. He was coming for the whip. "Beechnut," said Malleville, "I wish that you would speak to Phonny." "_Is_ it foolish for me to learn to climb?" asked Phonny. In order to see Beechnut while he asked this question, Phonny had to twist his head round in a very unusual position, and look out under his arm. It was obvious that in doing this he was in imminent danger of falling, so unstable was the equilibrium in which he was poised upon the rail. "Is not he foolish?" asked Malleville. Beechnut looked at him a moment, and then said, as he resumed his walk through the entry, "Not very;--that is for a boy. I have known boys sometimes to do foolisher things than that." "What did they do?" asked Phonny. "Why once," said Beechnut, "I knew a boy who put his nose into the crack of the door, and then took hold of the latch and pulled the door to, and pinched his nose to death. That was a _little_ more foolish, though not much." So saying Beechnut passed through the door and disappeared. Phonny was seized with so violent a convulsion of laughter at the idea of such absurd folly as Beechnut had described, that he tumbled off the bannisters, but fortunately he fell _in_, towards the stairs, and was very little hurt. He came down the stairs to Malleville, and as Beechnut returned in a few minutes with the whip, they all went out towards the barn together. Beechnut had already put the bags of grain into the wagon behind, and now he assisted Phonny and Malleville to get in. He gave them the whole of the seat, in order that they might have plenty of room, and also that they might be high up, where they could see. He had a small bench which was made to fit in, in front, and which he was accustomed to use for himself, as a sort of driver's seat, whenever the wagon was full. He placed this bench in its place in front, and taking his seat upon it, he drove away. When the party had thus fairly set out, and Phonny and Malleville had in some measure finished uttering the multitude of exclamations of delight with which they usually commenced a ride, they began to wish that Beechnut would tell them a story. Now Beechnut was a boy of boundless fertility of imagination, and he was almost always ready to tell a story. His stories were usually invented on the spot, and were often extremely wild and extravagant, both in the incidents involved in them, and in the personages whom he introduced as actors. The extravagance of these tales was however usually no objection to them in Phonny's and Malleville's estimation. In fact Beechnut observed that the more extravagant his stories were, the better pleased his auditors generally appeared to be in listening to them. He therefore did not spare invention, or restrict himself by any rules either of truth or probability in his narratives. Nor did he usually require any time for preparation, but commenced at once with whatever came into his head, pronouncing the first sentence of his story, very often without any idea of what he was to say next. On this occasion Beechnut began as follows: "Once there was a girl about three years old, and she had a large black cat. The cat was of a jet black color, and her fur was very soft and glossy. It was as soft as silk. "This cat was very mischievous and very sly. She was _very_ sly: very indeed. In fact she used to go about the house so very slyly, getting into all sorts of mischief which the people could never find out till afterwards, that they gave her the name of Sligo. Some people said that the reason why she had that name was because she came from a place called Sligo, in Ireland. But that was not the reason. It was veritably and truly because she was so sly." Beechnut pronounced this decision in respect to the etymological import of the pussy's name in the most grave and serious manner, and Malleville and Phonny listened with profound attention. "What was the girl's name?" asked Malleville. "The girl's?" repeated Beechnut. "Oh, her name was--Arabella." "Well, go on," said Malleville. "One day," continued Beechnut, "Sligo was walking about the house, trying to find something to do. She came into the parlor. There was nobody there. She looked about a little, and presently she saw a work-basket upon the corner of a table, where Arabella's mother had been at work. Sligo began to look at the basket, thinking that it would make a good nest for her to sleep in, if she could only get it under the clock. The clock stood in a corner of the room. "Sligo accordingly jumped up into a chair, and from the chair to the table, and then pushing the basket along nearer and nearer to the edge of the table, she at last made it fall over, and all the sewing and knitting work, and the balls, and needles, and spools, fell out upon the floor. Sligo then jumped down and pushed the basket along toward the clock. She finally got it under the clock, crept into it, curled herself round into the form of a semicircle inside, so as just to fill the basket, and went to sleep. "Presently Arabella came in, and seeing the spools and balls upon the floor, began to play with them. In a few minutes more, Arabella's mother came in, and when she saw Arabella playing with these things upon the floor, she supposed that Arabella herself was the rogue that had thrown the basket off the table. Arabella could not talk much. When her mother accused her of doing this mischief, she could only say "No;" "no;" but her mother did not believe her. So she made her go and stand up in the corner of the room, for punishment, while Sligo peeped out from under the clock to see." "But you said that Sligo was asleep," said Phonny. "Yes, she went to sleep," replied Beechnut, "but she waked up when Arabella's mother came into the room." Beechnut here paused a moment to consider what he should say next, when suddenly he began to point forward to a little distance before them in the road, where a boy was to be seen at the side of the road, sitting upon a stone. "I verily believe it is Jemmy," said he. As the wagon approached the place where Jemmy was sitting, they found that he was bending down over his foot, and moaning with, pain. Beechnut asked him what was the matter. He said that he had sprained his foot dreadfully. Beechnut stopped the horse, and giving the reins to Phonny, he got out to see. Phonny immediately gave them to Malleville, and followed. "Are you much hurt?" asked Beechnut. "Oh, yes," said Jemmy, moaning and groaning; "oh dear me!" Beechnut then went back to the horse, and taking him by the bridle, he led him a little way out of the road, toward a small tree, where he thought he would stand, and then taking Malleville out, so that she might not be in any danger if the horse should chance to start, he went back to Jemmy. "You see," said Jemmy, "I was going to mill, and I was riding along here, and the horse pranced about and threw me off and sprained my foot. Oh dear me! what shall I do?" "Where is the horse?" asked Beechnut. "There he is," said Jemmy, "somewhere out there. He has gone along the road. And the bags have fallen off too. Oh dear me!" Phonny ran out into the road, and looked forward. He could see the horse standing by the side of the road at some distance, quietly eating the grass. A little this side of the place where the horse stood, the bags were lying upon the ground, not very far from each other. The story which Jemmy told was not strictly true. He was one of the boys of the village, and was of a wild and reckless character. This was, however, partly his father's fault, who never gave him any kind and friendly instruction, and always treated him with a great degree of sternness and severity. A circus company had visited Franconia a few weeks before the time of this accident, and Jemmy had peeped through the cracks of the fence that formed their enclosure, and had seen the performers ride around the ring, standing upon the backs of the horses. He was immediately inspired with the ambition to imitate this feat, and the next time that he mounted his father's horse, he made the attempt to perform it. His father, when he found it out, was very angry with him, and sternly forbade him ever to do such a thing again. He declared positively that if he did, he would whip him to death, as he said. Jemmy was silent, but he secretly resolved that he would ride standing again, the very first opportunity. Accordingly, when his father put the two bags of grain upon the horse, and ordered Jemmy to go to mill with them, Jemmy thought that the opportunity had come. He had observed that the circus riders, instead of a saddle, used upon the backs of their horses a sort of flat pad, which afforded a much more convenient footing than any saddle; and as to standing on the naked back of a horse, it was manifestly impossible for any body but a rope-dancer. When, however, Jemmy saw his father placing the bags of grain upon the horse, he perceived at once that a good broad and level surface was produced by them, which was much more extended and level, even than the pads of the circus-riders. He instantly resolved, that the moment that he got completely away from the village, he would mount upon the bags and ride standing--and ride so, too, just as long as he pleased. Accordingly, as soon as he had passed the house where Phonny lived, which was the last house in that direction for some distance, he looked round in order to be sure that his father was not by any accident behind him, and then climbing up first upon his knees, and afterward upon his feet, he drew up the reins cautiously, and then chirruped to the horse to go on. The horse began to move slowly along. Jemmy was surprised and delighted to find how firm his footing was on the broad surface of the bags. Growing more and more bold and confident as he became accustomed to his situation, he began presently to dance about, or rather to perform certain awkward antics, which he considered dancing, looking round continually, with a mingled expression of guilt, pleasure, and fear, in his countenance, in order to be sure that his father was not coming. Finally, he undertook to make his horse trot a little. The horse, however, by this time, began to grow somewhat impatient at the unusual sensations which he experienced--the weight of the rider being concentrated upon one single point, directly on his back, and resting very unsteadily and interruptedly there,--and the bridle-reins passing up almost perpendicularly into the air, instead of declining backwards, as they ought to do in any proper position of the horseman. He began to trot forward faster and faster. Jemmy soon found that it would be prudent to restrain him, but in his upright position, he had no control over the horse by pulling the reins. He only pulled the horse's head upwards, and made him more uneasy and impatient than before. He then attempted to get down into a sitting posture again, but in doing so, he fell off upon the hard road and sprained his ankle. The horse trotted rapidly on, until the bags fell off, first one and then the other. Finding himself thus wholly at liberty, he stopped and began to eat the grass at the road-side, wholly unconcerned at the mischief that had been done. Jemmy's distress was owing much more to his alarm and his sense of guilt, than to the actual pain of the injury which he had suffered. He was, however, entirely disabled by the sprain. "It is rather a hard case," said Beechnut, "no doubt, but never mind it, Jemmy. A man may break his leg, and yet live to dance many a hornpipe afterwards. You'll get over all this and laugh about it one day. Come, I'll carry you home in my wagon." "But I am afraid to go home," said Jemmy. "What are you afraid of?" asked Beechnut. "Of my father," said Jemmy. "Oh no," said Beechnut. "The horse is not hurt, and as for the grist I'll carry it to mill with mine. So there is no harm done. Come, let me put you into the wagon." "Yes," said Phonny, "and I will go and catch the horse." While Beechnut was putting Jemmy into the wagon, Phonny ran along the road toward the horse. The horse, hearing footsteps, and supposing from the sound that somebody might be coming to catch him, was at first disposed to set off and gallop away; but looking round and seeing that it was nobody but Phonny he went on eating as before. When Phonny got pretty near to the horse, he began to walk up slowly towards him, putting out his hand as if to take hold of the bridle and saying, "Whoa--Dobbin,--whoa." The horse raised his head a little from the grass, shook it very expressively at Phonny, walked on a few steps, and then began to feed upon the grass as before. He seemed to know precisely how much resistance was necessary to avoid the recapture with which he was threatened. "Whoa Jack! whoa!" said Phonny, advancing again. The horse, however, moved on, shaking his head as before. He seemed to be no more disposed to recognize the name of Jack than Dobbin. [Illustration: CATCHING THE HORSE.] "Jemmy," said Phonny, turning back and calling out aloud, "Jemmy! what's his name?" Jemmy did not answer. He was fully occupied in getting into the wagon. Beechnut called Phonny back and asked him to hold his horse, while he went to catch Jemmy's. He did it by opening one of the bags and taking out a little grain, and by means of it enticing the stray horse near enough to enable him to take hold of the bridle. He then fastened him behind the wagon, and putting Jemmy's two bags in, he turned round and went back to carry Jemmy home, leaving Malleville and Phonny to walk the rest of the way to Mary Erskine's. Besides their ride, they lost the remainder of the story of Sligo, if that can be said to be lost which never existed. For at the time when Beechnut paused in his narration, he had told the story as far as he had invented it. He had not thought of another word. CHAPTER II. THE BRIDE. Mary Erskine was an orphan. Her mother died when she was about twelve years old. Her father had died long before, and after her father's death her mother was very poor, and lived in so secluded and solitary a place, that Mary had no opportunity then to go to school. She began to work too as soon as she was able to do any thing, and it was necessary from that day forward for her to work all the time; and this would have prevented her from going to school, if there had been one near. Thus when her mother died, although she was an intelligent and very sensible girl, she could neither read nor write a word. She told Mrs. Bell the day that she went to live with her, that she did not even know any of the letters, except the round one and the crooked one. The round one she said she _always_ knew, and as for S she learned that, because it stood for Erskine. This shows how little she knew about spelling. Mrs. Bell wanted Mary Erskine to help her in taking care of her own daughter Mary, who was then an infant. As both the girls were named Mary, the people of the family and the neighbors gradually fell into the habit of calling each of them by her full name, in order to distinguish them from each other. Thus the baby was never called Mary, but always Mary Bell, and the little nursery maid was always known as Mary Erskine. Mary Erskine became a great favorite at Mrs. Bell's. She was of a very light-hearted and joyous disposition, always contented and happy, singing like a nightingale at her work all the day long, when she was alone, and cheering and enlivening all around her by her buoyant spirits when she was in company. When Mary Bell became old enough to run about and play, Mary Erskine became her playmate and companion, as well as her protector. There was no distinction of rank to separate them. If Mary Bell had been as old as Mary Erskine and had had a younger sister, her duties in the household would have been exactly the same as Mary Erskine's were. In fact, Mary Erskine's position was altogether that of an older sister, and strangers visiting, the family would have supposed that the two girls were really sisters, had they not both been named Mary. Mary Erskine was about twelve years older than Mary Bell, so that when Mary Bell began to go to school, which was when she was about five years old, Mary Erskine was about seventeen. Mrs. Bell had proposed, when Mary Erskine first came to her house, that she would go to school and learn to read and write; but Mary had been very much disinclined to do so. In connection with the amiableness and gentleness of her character and her natural good sense, she had a great deal of pride and independence of spirit; and she was very unwilling to go to school--being, as she was, almost in her teens--and begin there to learn her letters with the little children. Mrs. Bell ought to have required her to go, notwithstanding her reluctance, or else to have made some other proper arrangement for teaching her to read and write. Mrs. Bell was aware of this in fact, and frequently resolved that she would do so. But she postponed the performance of her resolution from month to month and year to year, and finally it was not performed at all. Mary Erskine was so very useful at home, that a convenient time for sparing her never came. And then besides she was so kind, and so tractable, and so intent upon complying with all Mrs. Bell's wishes, in every respect, that Mrs. Bell was extremely averse to require any thing of her, which would mortify her, or give her pain. When Mary Erskine was about eighteen years old, she was walking home one evening from the village, where she had been to do some shopping for Mrs. Bell, and as she came to a solitary part of the road after having left the last house which belonged to the village, she saw a young man coming out of the woods at a little distance before her. She recognized him, immediately, as a young man whom she called Albert, who had often been employed by Mrs. Bell, at work about the farm and garden. Albert was a very sedate and industrious young man, of frank and open and manly countenance, and of an erect and athletic form. Mary Erskine liked Albert very well, and yet the first impulse was, when she saw him coming, to cross over to the other side of the road, and thus pass him at a little distance. She did in fact take one or two steps in that direction, but thinking almost immediately that it would be foolish to do so, she returned to the same side of the road and walked on. Albert walked slowly along towards Mary Erskine, until at length they met. "Good evening, Mary Erskine," said Albert. "Good evening, Albert," said Mary Erskine. Albert turned and began to walk along slowly, by Mary Erskine's side. "I have been waiting here for you more than two hours," said Albert. "Have you?" said Mary Erskine. Her heart began to beat, and she was afraid to say any thing more, for fear that her voice would tremble, "Yes," said Albert. "I saw you go to the village, and I wanted to speak to you when you came back." Mary Erskine walked along, but did not speak. "And I have been waiting and watching two months for you to go to the village," continued Albert. "I have not been much to the village, lately," said Mary. Here there was a pause of a few minutes, when Albert said again, "Have you any objection to my walking along with you here a little way, Mary?" "No," said Mary, "not at all." "Mary," said Albert, after another short pause, "I have got a hundred dollars and my axe,--and this right arm. I am thinking of buying a lot of land, about a mile beyond Kater's corner. If I will do it, and build a small house of one room there, will you come and be my wife? It will have to be a _log_ house at first." Mary Erskine related subsequently to Mary Bell what took place at this interview, thus far, but she would never tell the rest. It was evident, however, that Mary Erskine was inclined to accept this proposal, from a conversation which took place between her and Mrs. Bell the next evening. It was after tea. The sun had gone down, and the evening was beautiful. Mrs. Bell was sitting in a low rocking-chair, on a little covered platform, near the door, which they called the stoop. There were two seats, one on each side of the stoop, and there was a vine climbing over it. Mrs. Bell was knitting. Mary Bell, who was then about six years old, was playing about the yard, watching the butterflies, and gathering flowers. "You may stay here and play a little while," said Mary Erskine to Mary Bell. "I am going to talk with your mother a little; but I shall be back again pretty soon." Mary Erskine accordingly went to the stoop where Mrs. Bell was sitting, and took a seat upon the bench at the side of Mrs. Bell, though rather behind than before her. There was a railing along behind the seat, at the edge of the stoop and a large white rose-bush, covered with roses, upon the other side. Mrs. Bell perceived from Mary Erskine's air and manner that she had something to say to her, so after remarking that it was a very pleasant evening, she went on knitting, waiting for Mary Erskine to begin. "Mrs. Bell," said Mary. "Well," said Mrs. Bell. The trouble was that Mary Erskine did not know exactly _how_ to begin. She paused a moment longer and then making a great effort she said, "Albert wants me to go and live with him." "Does he?" said Mrs. Bell. "And where does he want you to go and live?" "He is thinking of buying a farm," said Mary Erskine. "Where?" said Mrs. Bell. "I believe the land is about a mile from Kater's corner." Mrs. Bell was silent for a few minutes. She was pondering the thought now for the first time fairly before her mind, that the little helpless orphan child that she had taken under her care so many years ago, had really grown to be a woman, and must soon, if not then, begin to form her own independent plans of life. She looked at little Mary Bell too, playing upon the grass, and wondered what she would do when Mary Erskine was gone. After a short pause spent in reflections like these, Mrs. Bell resumed the conversation by saying, "Well, Mary,--and what do you think of the plan?" "Why--I don't know," said Mary Erskine, timidly and doubtfully. "You are very young," said Mrs. Bell. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I always was very young. I was very young when my father died; and afterwards, when my mother died, I was very young to be left all alone, and to go out to work and earn my living. And now I am very young, I know. But then I am eighteen." "Are you eighteen?" asked Mrs. Bell. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I was eighteen the day before yesterday." "It is a lonesome place,--out beyond Kater's Corner," said Mrs. Bell, after another pause. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "but I am not afraid of lonesomeness. I never cared about seeing a great many people." "And you will have to work very hard," continued Mrs. Bell. "I know that," replied Mary; "but then I am not afraid of work any more than I am of lonesomeness. I began to work when I was five years old, and I have worked ever since,--and I like it." "Then, besides," said Mrs. Bell, "I don't know what I shall do with _my_ Mary when you have gone away. You have had the care of her ever since she was born." Mary Erskine did not reply to this. She turned her head away farther and farther from Mrs. Bell, looking over the railing of the stoop toward the white roses. In a minute or two she got up suddenly from her seat, and still keeping her face averted from Mrs. Bell, she went in by the stoop door into the house, and disappeared. In about ten minutes she came round the corner of the house, at the place where Mary Bell was playing, and with a radiant and happy face, and tones as joyous as ever, she told her little charge that they would have one game of hide and go seek, in the asparagus, and that then it would be time for her to go to bed. Two days after this, Albert closed the bargain for his land, and began his work upon it. The farm, or rather the lot, for the farm was yet to be made, consisted of a hundred and sixty acres of land, all in forest. A great deal of the land was mountainous and rocky, fit only for woodland and pasturage. There were, however, a great many fertile vales and dells, and at one place along the bank of a stream, there was a broad tract which Albert thought would make, when the trees were felled and it was brought into grass, a "beautiful piece of intervale." Albert commenced his operations by felling several acres of trees, on a part of his lot which was nearest the corner. A road, which had been laid out through the woods, led across his land near this place. The trees and bushes had been cut away so as to open a space wide enough for a sled road in winter. In summer there was nothing but a wild path, winding among rocks, stumps, trunks of fallen trees, and other forest obstructions. A person on foot could get along very well, and even a horse with a rider upon his back, but there was no chance for any thing on wheels. Albert said that it would not be possible to get even a wheelbarrow in. Albert, however, took great pleasure in going back and forth over this road, morning and evening, with his axe upon his shoulder, and a pack upon his back containing his dinner, while felling his trees. When they were all down, he left them for some weeks drying in the sun, and then set them on fire. He chose for the burning, the afternoon of a hot and sultry day, when a fresh breeze was blowing from the west, which he knew would fan the flames and increase the conflagration. It was important to do this, as the amount of subsequent labor which he would have to perform, would depend upon how completely the trees were consumed. His fire succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations, and the next day he brought Mary Erskine in to see what a "splendid burn" he had had, and to choose a spot for the log house which he was going to build for her. Mary Erskine was extremely pleased with the appearance of Albert's clearing. The area which had been opened ascended a little from the road, and presented a gently undulating surface, which Mary Erskine thought would make very beautiful fields. It was now, however, one vast expanse of blackened and smoking ruins. Albert conducted Mary Erskine and Mary Bell--for Mary Bell had come in with them to see the fire,--to a little eminence from which they could survey the whole scene. "Look," said he, "is not that beautiful? Did you ever see a better burn?" "I don't know much about burns," said Mary Erskine, "but I can see that it will be a beautiful place for a farm. Why we can see the pond," she added, pointing toward the south. This was true. The falling of the trees had opened up a fine view of the pond, which was distant about a mile from the clearing. There was a broad stream which flowed swiftly over a gravelly bed along the lower part of the ground, and a wild brook which came tumbling down from the mountains, and then, after running across the road, fell into the larger stream, not far from the corner of the farm. The brook and the stream formed two sides of the clearing. Beyond them, and along the other two sides of the clearing, the tall trees of those parts of the forest which had not been disturbed, rose like a wall and hemmed the opening closely in. Albert and Mary Erskine walked along the road through the whole length of the clearing, looking out for the best place to build their house. "Perhaps it will be lonesome here this winter, Mary," said Albert. "I don't know but that you would rather wait till next spring." Mary Erskine hesitated about her reply. She did, in fact, wish to come to her new home that fall, and she thought it was proper that she should express the cordial interest which she felt in Albert's plans;--but, then, on the other hand, she did not like to say any thing which might seem to indicate a wish on her part to hasten the time of their marriage. So she said doubtfully,--"I don't know;--I don't think that it would be lonesome." "What do you mean, Albert," said Mary Bell, "about Mary Erskine's coming to live here? She can't come and live here, among all these black stumps and logs." Albert and Mary Erskine were too intent upon their own thoughts and plans to pay any attention to Mary Bell's questions. So they walked along without answering her. "What could we have to _do_ this fall and winter?" asked Mary Erskine. She wished to ascertain whether she could do any good by coming at once, or whether it would be better, for Albert's plans, to wait until the spring. "Oh there will be plenty to do," said Albert. "I shall have to work a great deal, while the ground continues open, in clearing up the land, and getting it ready for sowing in the spring; and it will be a great deal better for me to live here, in order to save my traveling back and forth, so far, every night and morning. Then this winter I shall have my tools to make,--and to finish the inside of the house, and make the furniture; and if you have any leisure time you can spin. But after all it will not be very comfortable for you, and perhaps you would rather wait until spring." "No," said Mary Erskine. "I would rather come this fall." "Well," rejoined Albert, speaking in a tone of great satisfaction. "Then I will get the house up next week, and we will be married very soon after." There were very few young men whose prospects in commencing life were so fair and favorable as those of Albert. In the first place, he was not obliged to incur any debt on account of his land, as most young farmers necessarily do. His land was one dollar an acre. He had one hundred dollars of his own, and enough besides to buy a winter stock of provisions for his house. He had expected to have gone in debt for the sixty dollars, the whole price of the land being one hundred and sixty; but to his great surprise and pleasure Mary Erskine told him, as they were coming home from seeing the land after the burn, that she had seventy-five dollars of her own, besides interest; and that she should like to have sixty dollars of that sum go toward paying for the land. The fifteen dollars that would be left, she said, would be enough to buy the furniture. "I don't think that will be quite enough," said Albert. "Yes," said Mary Erskine. "We shall not want a great deal. We shall want a table and two chairs, and some things to cook with." "And a bed," said Albert. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "but I can make that myself. The cloth will not cost much, and you can get some straw for me. Next summer we can keep some geese, and so have a feather bed some day." "We shall want some knives and forks, and plates," said Albert. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "but they will not cost much. I think fifteen dollars will get us all we need. Besides there is more than fifteen dollars, for there is the interest." The money had been put out at interest in the village. "Well," said Albert, "and I can make the rest of the furniture that we shall need, this winter. I shall have a shop near the house. I have got the tools already." Thus all was arranged. Albert built his house on the spot which Mary Erskine thought would be the most pleasant for it, the week after her visit to the land. Three young men from the neighborhood assisted him, as is usual in such cases, on the understanding that Albert was to help each of them as many days about their work as they worked for him. This plan is often adopted by farmers in doing work which absolutely requires several men at a time, as for example, the raising of heavy logs one upon another to form the walls of a house. In order to obtain logs for the building Albert and his helpers cut down fresh trees from the forest, as the blackened and half-burned trunks, which lay about his clearing, were of course unsuitable for such a work. They selected the tallest and straightest trees, and after felling them and cutting them to the proper length, they hauled them to the spot by means of oxen. The ground served for a floor, and the fire-place was made of stones. The roof was formed of sheets of hemlock bark, laid, like slates upon rafters made of the stems of slender trees. Albert promised Mary Erskine that, as soon as the snow came, in the winter, to make a road, so that he could get through the woods with a load of boards upon a sled, he would make her a floor. From this time forward, although Mary Erskine was more diligent and faithful than ever in performing all her duties at Mrs. Bell's, her imagination was incessantly occupied with pictures and images of the new scenes into which she was about to be ushered as the mistress of her own independent household and home. She made out lists, mentally, for she could not write, of the articles which it would be best to purchase. She formed and matured in her own mind all her house-keeping plans. She pictured to herself the scene which the interior of her dwelling would present in cold and stormy winter evenings, while she was knitting at one side of the fire, and Albert was busy at some ingenious workmanship, on the other; or thought of the beautiful prospect which she should enjoy in the spring and summer following; when fields of waving grain, rich with promises of plenty and of wealth, would extend in every direction around her dwelling. She cherished, in a word, the brightest anticipations of happiness. [Illustration: THE LOG HOUSE.] The house at length was finished. The necessary furniture which Albert contrived in some way to get moved to it, was put in; and early in August Mary Erskine was married. She was married in the morning, and a party of the villagers escorted her on horseback to her new home. CHAPTER III. MARY ERSKINE'S VISITORS. Mary Erskine's anticipations of happiness in being the mistress of her own independent home were very high, but they were more than realized. The place which had been chosen for the house was not only a suitable one in respect to convenience, but it was a very pleasant one. It was near the brook which, as has already been said, came cascading down from among the forests and mountains, and passing along near one side of Albert's clearing, flowed across the road, and finally emptied into the great stream. The house was placed near the brook, in order that Albert might have a watering-place at hand for his horses and cattle when he should have stocked his farm. In felling the forest Albert left a fringe of trees along the banks of the brook, that it might be cool and shady there when the cattle went down to drink. There was a spring of pure cold water boiling up from beneath some rocks not far from the brook, on the side toward the clearing. The water from this spring flowed down along a little mossy dell, until it reached the brook. The bed over which this little rivulet flowed was stony, and yet no stones were to be seen. They all had the appearance of rounded tufts of soft green moss, so completely were they all covered and hidden by the beautiful verdure. Albert was very much pleased when he discovered this spring, and traced its little mossy rivulet down to the brook. He thought that Mary Erskine would like it. So he avoided cutting down any of the trees from the dell, or from around the spring, and in cutting down those which grew near it, he took care to make them fall away from the dell, so that in burning they should not injure the trees which he wished to save. Thus that part of the wood which shaded and sheltered the spring and the dell, escaped the fire. The house was placed in such a position that this spring was directly behind it, and Albert made a smooth and pretty path leading down to it; or rather he made the path smooth, and nature made it pretty. For no sooner had he completed his work upon it than nature began to adorn it by a profusion of the richest and greenest grass and flowers, which she caused to spring up on either side. It was so in fact in all Albert's operations upon his farm. Almost every thing that he did was for some purpose of convenience and utility, and he himself undertook nothing more than was necessary to secure the useful end. But his kind and playful co-operator, nature, would always take up the work where he left it, and begin at once to beautify it with her rich and luxuriant verdure. For example, as soon as the fires went out over the clearing, she began, with her sun and rain, to blanch the blackened stumps, and to gnaw at their foundations with her tooth of decay. If Albert made a road or a path she rounded its angles, softened away all the roughness that his plow or hoe had left in it, and fringed it with grass and flowers. The solitary and slender trees which had been left standing here and there around the clearing, having escaped the fire, she took under her special care--throwing out new and thrifty branches from them, in every direction, and thus giving them massive and luxuriant forms, to beautify the landscape, and to form shady retreats for the flocks and herds which might in subsequent years graze upon the ground. Thus while Albert devoted himself to the substantial and useful improvements which were required upon his farm, with a view simply to profit, nature took the work of ornamenting it under her own special and particular charge. The sphere of Mary Erskine's duties and pleasures was within doors. Her conveniences for house-keeping were somewhat limited at first, but Albert, who kept himself busy at work on his land all day, spent the evenings in his shanty shop, making various household implements and articles of furniture for her. Mary sat with him, usually, at such times, knitting by the side of the great, blazing fire, made partly for the sake of the light that it afforded, and partly for the warmth, which was required to temper the coolness of the autumnal evenings. Mary took a very special interest in the progress of Albert's work, every thing which he made being for her. Each new acquisition, as one article after another was completed and delivered into her possession, gave her fresh pleasure: and she deposited it in its proper place in her house with a feeling of great satisfaction and pride. "Mary Erskine," said Albert one evening--for though she was married, and her name thus really changed, Albert himself, as well as every body else, went on calling her Mary Erskine just as before--"it is rather hard to make you wait so long for these conveniences, especially as there is no necessity for it. We need not have paid for our land this three years. I might have taken the money and built a handsome house, and furnished it for you at once." "And so have been in debt for the land," said Mary. "Yes," said Albert. "I could have paid off that debt by the profits of the farming. I can lay up a hundred dollars a year, certainly." "No," said Mary Erskine. "I like this plan the best. We will pay as we go along. It will be a great deal better to have the three hundred dollars for something else than to pay old debts with. We will build a better house than this if we want one, one of these years, when we get the money. But I like this house very much as it is. Perhaps, however, it is only because it is my own." It was not altogether the idea that it was her own that made Mary Erskine like her house. The interior of it was very pleasant indeed, especially after Albert had completed the furnishing of it, and had laid the floor. It contained but one room, it is true, but that was a very spacious one. There were, in fact, two apartments enclosed by the walls and the roof, though only one of them could strictly be called a room. The other was rather a shed, or stoop, and it was entered from the front by a wide opening, like a great shed door. The entrance to the house proper was by a door opening from this stoop, so as to be sheltered from the storms in winter. There was a very large fire place made of stones in the middle of one side of the room, with a large flat stone for a hearth in front of it. This hearth stone was very smooth, and Mary Erskine kept it always very bright and clean. On one side of the fire was what they called a settle, which was a long wooden seat with a very high back. It was placed on the side of the fire toward the door, so that it answered the purpose of a screen to keep off any cold currents of air, which might come in on blustering winter nights, around the door. On the other side of the fire was a small and \ very elegant mahogany work table. This was a present to Mary Erskine from Mrs. Bell on the day of her marriage. There were drawers in this table containing sundry conveniences. The upper drawer was made to answer the purpose of a desk, and it had an inkstand in a small division in one corner. Mrs. Bell had thought of taking this inkstand out, and putting in some spools, or something else which Mary Erskine would be able to use. But Mary herself would not allow her to make such a change. She said it was true that she could not write, but that was no reason why she should not have an inkstand. So she filled the inkstand with ink, and furnished the desk completely in other respects, by putting in six sheets of paper, a pen, and several wafers. The truth was, she thought it possible that an occasion might arise some time or other, at which Albert might wish to write a letter; and if such a case should occur, it would give her great pleasure to have him write his letter at her desk. Beyond the work table, on one of the sides of the room, was a cupboard, and next to the cupboard a large window. This was the only window in the house, and it had a sash which would rise and fall. Mary Erskine had made white curtains for this window, which could be parted in the middle, and hung up upon nails driven into the logs which formed the wall of the house, one on each side. Of what use these curtains could be except to make the room look more snug and pleasant within, it would be difficult to say; for there was only one vast expanse of forests and mountains on that side of the house, so that there was nobody to look in. On the back side of the room, in one corner, was the bed. It was supported upon a bedstead which Albert had made. The bedstead had high posts, and was covered, like the window, with curtains. In the other corner was the place for the loom, with the spinning-wheel between the loom and the bed. When Mary Erskine was using the spinning-wheel, she brought it out into the center of the room. The loom was not yet finished. Albert was building it, working upon it from time to time as he had opportunity. The frame of it was up, and some of the machinery was made. Mary Erskine kept most of her clothes in a trunk; but Albert was making her a bureau. Instead of finding it lonesome at her new home, as Mrs. Bell had predicted, Mary Erskine had plenty of company. The girls from the village, whom she used to know, were very fond of coming out to see her. Many of them were much younger than she was, and they loved to ramble about in the woods around Mary Erskine's house, and to play along the bank of the brook. Mary used to show them too, every time they came, the new articles which Albert had made for her, and to explain to them the gradual progress of the improvements. Mary Bell herself was very fond of going to see Mary Erskine,--though she was of course at that time too young to go alone. Sometimes however Mrs. Bell would send her out in the morning and let her remain all day, playing, very happily, around the door and down by the spring. She used to play all day among the logs and stumps, and upon the sandy beach by the side of the brook, and yet when she went home at night she always looked as nice, and her clothes were as neat and as clean as when she went in the morning. Mrs. Bell wondered at this, and on observing that it continued to be so, repeatedly, after several visits, she asked Mary Bell how it happened that Mary Erskine kept her so nice. "Oh," said Mary Bell, "I always put on my working frock when I go out to Mary Erskine's." The working frock was a plain, loose woolen dress, which Mary Erskine made for Mary Bell, and which Mary Bell, always put on in the morning, whenever she came to the farm. Her own dress was taken off and laid carefully away upon the bed, under the curtains. Her shoes and stockings were taken off too, so that she might play in the brook if she pleased, though Mary Erskine told her it was not best to remain in the water long enough to have her feet get very cold. When Mary Bell was dressed thus in her working frock, she was allowed to play wherever she pleased, so that she enjoyed almost an absolute and unbounded liberty. And yet there were some restrictions. She must not go across the brook, for fear that she might get lost in the woods, nor go out of sight of the house in any direction. She might build fires upon any of the stumps or logs, but not within certain limits of distance from the house, lest she should set the house on fire. And she must not touch the axe, for fear that she might cut herself, nor climb upon the wood-pile, for fear that it might fall down upon her. With some such restrictions as these, she could do whatever she pleased. She was very much delighted, one morning in September, when she was playing around the house in her working frock, at finding a great hole or hollow under a stump, which she immediately resolved to have for her oven. She was sitting down upon the ground by the side of it, and she began to call out as loud as she could, "Mary Erskine! Mary Erskine!" But Mary Erskine did not answer. Mary Bell could hear the sound of the spinning-wheel in the house, and she wondered why the spinner could not hear her, when she called so loud. She listened, watching for the pauses in the buzzing sound of the wheel, and endeavored to call out in the pauses,--but with no better success than before. At last she got up and walked along toward the house, swinging in her hand a small wooden shovel, which Albert had made for her to dig wells with in the sand on the margin of the brook. "Mary Erskine!" said she, when she got to the door of the house, "didn't you hear me calling for you?" "Yes," said Mary Erskine. "Then why did not you come?" said Mary Bell. "Because I was disobedient," said Mary Erskine, "and now I suppose I must be punished." "Well," said Mary Bell. The expression of dissatisfaction and reproof upon Mary Bell's countenance was changed immediately into one of surprise and pleasure, at the idea of Mary Erskine's being punished for disobeying _her_. So she said, "Well. And what shall your punishment be?" "What did you want me for?" asked Mary Erskine. "I wanted you to see my oven." "Have you got an oven?" asked Mary Erskine. "Yes," said Mary Bell, "It is under a stump. I have got some wood, and now I want some fire." "Very well," said Mary Erskine, "get your fire-pan." Mary Bell's fire-pan, was an old tin dipper with a long handle. It had been worn out as a dipper, and so they used to let Mary Bell have it to carry her fire in. There were several small holes in the bottom of the dipper, so completely was it worn out: but this made it all the better for a fire-pan, since the air which came up through the holes, fanned the coals and kept them alive. This dipper was very valuable, too, for another purpose. Mary Bell was accustomed, sometimes, to go down to the brook and dip up water with it, in order to see the water stream down into the brook again, through these holes, in a sort of a shower. Mary Bell went, accordingly, for her fire-pan, which she found in its place in the open stoop or shed. She came into the house, and Mary Erskine, raking open the ashes in the fire-place, took out two large coals with the tongs, and dropped them into the dipper. Mary Bell held the dipper at arm's length before her, and began to walk along. "Hold it out upon one side," said Mary Erskine, "and then if you fall down, you will not fall upon your fire." Mary Bell, obeying this injunction, went out to her oven and put the coals in at the mouth of it. Then she began to gather sticks, and little branches, and strips of birch bark, and other silvan combustibles, which she found scattered about the ground, and put them upon the coals to make the fire. She stopped now and then a minute or two to rest and to listen to the sound of Mary Erskine's spinning. At last some sudden thought seemed to come into her head, and throwing down upon the ground a handful of sticks which she had in her hand, and was just ready to put upon the fire, she got up and walked toward the house. "Mary Erskine," said she, "I almost forgot about your punishment." "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I hoped that you had forgot about it, altogether." "Why?" said Mary Bell. "Because," said Mary Erskine, "I don't like to be punished." "But you _must_ be punished," said Mary Bell, very positively, "and-what shall your punishment be?" "How would it do," said Mary Erskine, going on, however, all the time with her spinning, "for me to have to give you two potatoes to roast in your oven?--or one? One potato will be enough punishment for such a little disobedience." "No; two," said Mary Bell. "Well, two," said Mary Erskine. "You may go and get them in a pail out in the stoop. But you must wash them first, before you put them in the oven. You can wash them down at the brook." "I am afraid that I shall get my fingers smutty," said Mary Bell, "at my oven, for the stump is pretty black." "No matter if you do," said Mary Erskine. "You can go down and wash them at the brook." "And my frock, too," said Mary Bell. "No matter for that either," said Mary Erskine; "only keep it as clean as you can." So Mary Bell took the two potatoes and went down to the brook to wash them. She found, however, when she reached the brook, that there was a square piece of bark lying upon the margin of the water, and she determined to push it in and sail it, for her ship, putting the two potatoes on for cargo. After sailing the potatoes about for some time, her eye chanced to fall upon a smooth spot in the sand, which she thought would make a good place for a garden. So she determined to _plant_ her potatoes instead of roasting them. She accordingly dug a hole in the sand with her fingers, and put the potatoes in, and then after covering them, over with the sand, she went to the oven to get her fire-pan for her watering-pot, in order to water her garden. The holes in the bottom of the dipper made it an excellent watering-pot, provided the garden to be watered was not too far from the brook: for the shower would always begin to fall the instant the dipper was lifted out of the water. [Illustration: MARY BELL AT THE BROOK.] After watering her garden again and again, Mary Bell concluded on the whole not to wait for her potatoes to grow, but dug them up and began to wash them in the brook, to make them ready for the roasting. Her little feet sank into the sand at the margin of the water while she held the potatoes in the stream, one in each hand, and watched the current as it swept swiftly by them. After a while she took them out and put them in the sun upon a flat stone to dry, and when they were dry she carried them to her oven and buried them in the hot embers there. Thus Mary Bell would amuse herself, hour after hour of the long day, when she went to visit Mary Erskine, with an endless variety of childish imaginings. Her working-frock became in fact, in her mind, the emblem of complete and perfect liberty and happiness, unbounded and unalloyed. The other children of the village, too, were accustomed to come out and see Mary Erskine, and sometimes older and more ceremonious company still. There was one young lady named Anne Sophia, who, having been a near neighbor of Mrs. Bell's, was considerably acquainted with Mary Erskine, though as the two young ladies had very different tastes and habits of mind, they never became very intimate friends. Anne Sophia was fond of dress and of company. Her thoughts were always running upon village subjects and village people, and her highest ambition was to live there. She had been, while Mary Erskine had lived at Mrs. Bell's, very much interested in a young man named Gordon. He was a clerk in a store in the village. He was a very agreeable young man, and much more genteel and polished in his personal appearance than Albert. He had great influence among the young men of the village, being the leader in all the excursions and parties of pleasure which were formed among them. Anne Sophia knew very well that Mr. Gordon liked to see young ladies handsomely dressed when they appeared in public, and partly to please him, and partly to gratify that very proper feeling of pleasure which all young ladies have in appearing well, she spent a large part of earnings in dress. She was not particularly extravagant, nor did she get into debt; but she did not, like Mary Erskine, attempt to lay up any of her wages. She often endeavored to persuade Mary Erskine to follow her example. "It is of no use," said she, "for girls like you and me to try to lay up money. If we are ever married we shall make our husbands take care of us; and if we are not married we shall not want our savings, for we can always earn what we need as we go along." Mary Erskine had no reply at hand to make to this reasoning, but she was not convinced by it, so she went on pursuing her own course, while Anne Sophia pursued hers. Anne Sophia was a very capable and intelligent girl, and as Mr. Gordon thought, would do credit to any society in which she might be called to move. He became more and more interested in her, and it happened that they formed an engagement to be married, just about the time that Albert made his proposal to Mary Erskine. Mr. Gordon was a very promising business man, and had an offer from the merchant with whom he was employed as a clerk, to enter into partnership with him, just before the time of his engagement. He declined this offer, determining rather to go into business independently. He had laid up about as much money as Albert had, and by means of this, and the excellent letters of recommendation which he obtained from the village people, he obtained a large stock of goods, on credit, in the city. When buying his goods he also bought a small quantity of handsome furniture, on the same terms. He hired a store. He also hired a small white house, with green trees around it, and a pretty garden behind. He was married nearly at the same time with Albert, and Anne Sophia in taking possession of her genteel and beautiful village home, was as happy as Mary Erskine was in her sylvan solitude. Mr. Gordon told her that he had made a calculation, and he thought there was no doubt that, if business was tolerably good that winter, he should be able to clear enough to pay all his expenses and to pay for his furniture. His calculations proved to be correct. Business was very good. He paid for his furniture, and bought as much more on a new credit in the spring. Anne Sophia came out to make a call upon Mary Erskine, about a month after she had got established in her new home. She came in the morning. Mr. Gordon brought her in a chaise as far as to the corner, and she walked the rest of the way. She was dressed very handsomely, and yet in pretty good taste. It was not wholly a call of ceremony, for Anne Sophia felt really a strong attachment to Mary Erskine, and had a great desire to see her in her new home. When she rose to take her leave, after her call was ended, she asked Mary Erskine to come to the village and see her as soon as she could. "I meant to have called upon you long before this," said she, "but I have been so busy, and we have had so much company. But I want to see you very much indeed. We have a beautiful house, and I have a great desire to show it to you. I think you have got a beautiful place here for a farm, one of these days; but you ought to make your husband build you a better house. He is as able to do it as my husband is to get me one, I have no doubt." Mary Erskine had no doubt either. She did not say so however, but only replied that she liked her house very well. The real reason why she liked it so much was one that Anne Sophia did not consider. The reason was that it was her own. Whereas Anne Sophia lived in a house, which, pretty as it was, belonged to other people. All these things, it must be remembered, took place eight or ten years before the time when Malleville and Phonny went to visit Mary Erskine, and when Mary Bell was only four or five years old. Phonny and Malleville, as well as a great many other children, had grown up from infancy since that time. In fact, the Jemmy who fell from his horse and sprained his ankle the day they came, was Jemmy Gordon, Anne Sophia's oldest son. CHAPTER IV. CALAMITY. Both Mary Erskine and Anne Sophia went on very pleasantly and prosperously, each in her own way, for several years. Every spring Albert cut down more trees, and made new openings and clearings. He built barns and sheds about his house, and gradually accumulated quite a stock of animals. With the money that he obtained by selling the grain and the grass seed which he raised upon his land, he bought oxen and sheep and cows. These animals fed in his pastures in the summer, and in the winter he gave them hay from his barn. Mary Erskine used to take the greatest pleasure in getting up early in the cold winter mornings, and going out with her husband to see him feed the animals. She always brought in a large pile of wood every night, the last thing before going to bed, and laid it upon the hearth where it would be ready at hand for the morning fire. She also had a pail of water ready, from the spring, and the tea-kettle by the side of it, ready to be filled. The potatoes, too, which were to be roasted for breakfast, were always prepared the night before, and placed in an earthen pan, before the fire. Mary Erskine, in fact, was always very earnest to make every possible preparation over night, for the work of the morning. This arose partly from an instinctive impulse which made her always wish, as she expressed it, "to do every duty as soon as it came in sight," and partly from the pleasure which she derived from a morning visit to the animals in the barn. She knew them all by name. She imagined that they all knew her, and were glad to see her by the light of her lantern in the morning. It gave her the utmost satisfaction to see them rise, one after another, from their straw, and begin eagerly to eat the hay which Albert pitched down to them from the scaffold, while she, standing below upon the barn floor, held the lantern so that he could see. She was always very careful to hold it so that the cows and the oxen could see too. One day, when Albert came home from the village, he told Mary Erskine that he had an offer of a loan of two hundred dollars, from Mr. Keep. Mr. Keep was an elderly gentleman of the village,--of a mild and gentle expression of countenance, and white hair. He was a man of large property, and often had money to lend at interest. He had an office, where he used to do his business. This office was in a wing of his house, which was a large and handsome house in the center of the village. Mr. Keep had a son who was a physician, and he used often to ask his son's opinion and advice about his affairs. One day when Mr. Keep was sitting in his office, Mr. Gordon came in and told him that he had some plans for enlarging his business a little, and wished to know if Mr. Keep had two or three hundred dollars that he would like to lend for six months. Mr. Keep, who, though he was a very benevolent and a very honorable man, was very careful in all his money dealings, said that he would look a little into his accounts, and see how much he had to spare, and let Mr. Gordon know the next day. That night Mr. Keep asked his son what he thought of lending Mr. Gordon two or three hundred dollars. His son said doubtfully that he did not know. He was somewhat uncertain about it. Mr. Gordon was doing very well, he believed, but then his expenses were quite heavy, and it was not quite certain how it would turn with him. Mr. Keep then said that he had two or three hundred dollars on hand which he must dispose of in some way or other, and he asked his son what he should do with it. His son recommended that he should offer it to Albert. Albert formerly lived at Mr. Keep's, as a hired man, so that Mr. Keep knew him very well. "He is going on quite prosperously in his farm, I understand," said the doctor. "His land is all paid for, and he is getting quite a stock of cattle, and very comfortable buildings. I think it very likely that he can buy more stock with the money, and do well with it. And, at all events, you could not put the money in _safer_ hands." "I will propose it to him," said Mr. Keep. He did propose it to him that very afternoon, for it happened that Albert went to the village that day. Albert told Mr. Keep that he was very much obliged to him for the offer of the money, and that he would consider whether it would be best for him to take it or not, and let him know in the morning. So he told Mary Erskine of the offer that he had had, as soon as he got home. "I am very glad to get such an offer," said Albert. "Shall you take the money?" said his wife. "I don't know," replied Albert. "I rather think not." "Then why are you glad to get the offer?" asked Mary Erskine. "Oh, it shows that my credit is good in the village. It must be very good, indeed, to lead such a man as Mr. Keep to offer to lend me money, of his own accord. It is a considerable comfort to know that I can get money, whenever I want it, even if I never take it." "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "so it is." "And it is all owing to you," said Albert. "To me?" said Mary Erskine. "Yes," said he; "to your prudence and economy, and to your contented and happy disposition. That is one thing that I always liked you for. It is so easy to make you happy. There is many a wife, in your situation, who could not have been happy unless their husband would build them a handsome house and fill it with handsome furniture--even if he had to go in debt for his land to pay for it." Mary Erskine did not reply, though it gratified her very much to hear her husband commend her. "Well," said she at length, "I am very glad that you have got good credit. What should you do with the money, if you borrowed it?" "Why, one thing that I could do," said Albert, "would be to build a new house." "No," said Mary Erskine, "I like this house very much. I don't want any other--certainly not until we can build one with our own money." "Then," said Albert, "I can buy more stock, and perhaps hire some help, and get more land cleared this fall, so as to have greater crops next spring, and then sell the stock when it has grown and increased, and also the crops, and so get money enough to pay back the debt and have something over." "Should you have much over?" asked Mary. "Why that would depend upon how my business turned out,--and that would depend upon the weather, and the markets, and other things which we can not now foresee. I think it probable that we should have a good deal over." "Well," said Mary Erskine, "then I would take the money." "But, then, on the other hand," said Albert, "I should run some risk of embarrassing myself, if things did not turn out well. If I were to be sick, so that I could not attend to so much business, or if I should Jose any of my stock, or if the crops should not do well, then I might not get enough to pay back the debt." "And what should you do then?" asked Mary Erskine. "Why then," replied Albert, "I should have to make up the deficiency in some other way. I might ask Mr. Keep to put off the payment of the note, or I might borrow the money of somebody else to pay him, or I might sell some of my other stock. I could do any of these things well enough, but it would perhaps cause me some trouble and anxiety." "Then I would not take the money," said Mary Erskine. "I don't like anxiety. I can bear any thing else better than anxiety." "However, I don't know any thing about it," continued Mary Erskine, after a short pause. "You can judge best." They conversed on the subject some time longer, Albert being quite at a loss to know what it was best to do. Mary Erskine, for her part, seemed perfectly willing that he should borrow the money to buy more stock, as she liked the idea of having more oxen, sheep, and cows. But she seemed decidedly opposed to using borrowed money to build a new house, or to buy new furniture. Her head would ache, she said, to lie on a pillow of feathers that was not paid for. Albert finally concluded not to borrow the money, and so Mr. Keep lent it to Mr. Gordon. Things went on in this way for about three or four years, and then Albert began to think seriously of building another house. He had now money enough of his own to build it with. His stock had become so large that he had not sufficient barn room for his hay, and he did not wish to build larger barns where he then lived, for in the course of his clearings he had found a much better place for a house than the one which they had at first selected. Then his house was beginning to be too small for his family, for Mary Erskine had, now, two children. One was an infant, and the other was about two years old. These children slept in a trundle-bed, which was pushed under the great bed in the daytime, but still the room became rather crowded. So Albert determined to build another house. Mary Erskine was very much interested in this plan. She would like to live in a handsome house as well as any other lady, only she preferred to wait until she could have one of her own. Now that that time had arrived, she was greatly pleased with the prospect of having her kitchen, her sitting-room, and her bed-room, in three separate rooms, instead of having them, as heretofore, all in one. Then the barns and barn-yards, and the pens and sheds for the sheep and cattle, were all going to be much more convenient than they had been; so that Albert could take care of a greater amount of stock than before, with the same labor. The new house, too, was going to be built in a much more pleasant situation than the old one, and the road from it to the corner was to be improved, so that they could go in and out with a wagon. In a word, Mary Erskine's heart was filled with new hopes and anticipations, as she saw before her means and sources of happiness, higher and more extended than she had ever before enjoyed. When the time approached for moving into the new house Mary Erskine occupied herself, whenever she had any leisure time, in packing up such articles as were not in use. One afternoon while she was engaged in this occupation, Albert came home from the field much earlier than usual. Mary Erskine was very glad to see him, as she wished him to nail up the box in which she had been packing her cups and saucers. She was at work on the stoop, very near the door, so that she could watch the children. The baby was in the cradle. The other child, whose name was Bella, was playing about the floor. Albert stopped a moment to look at Mary Erskine's packing, and then went in and took his seat upon the settle. "Tell me when your box is ready," said he, "and I will come and nail it for you." Bella walked along toward her father--for she had just learned to walk--and attempted to climb up into his lap. "Run away, Bella," said Albert. Mary Erskine was surprised to hear Albert tell Bella to run away, for he was usually very glad to have his daughter come to him when he got home from his work. She looked up to see what was the matter. He was sitting upon the settle, and leaning his head upon his hand. Mary Erskine left her work and went to him. "Are you not well, Albert?" said she. "My head aches a little. It ached in the field, and that was the reason why I thought I would come home. But it is better now. Are you ready for me to come and nail the box?" "No," said Mary, "not quite; and besides, it is no matter about it to-night. I will get you some tea." "No," said Albert, "finish your packing first, and I will come and nail it. Then we can put it out of the way." Mary Erskine accordingly finished her packing, and Albert went to it, to nail the cover on. He drove one or two nails, and then he put the hammer down, and sat down himself upon the box, saying that he could not finish the nailing after all. He was too unwell. He went into the room, Mary Erskine leading and supporting him. She conducted him to the bed and opened the curtains so as to let him lie down. She helped him to undress himself, and then left him, a few minutes while she began to get some tea. She moved the box, which she had been packing, away from the stoop door, and put it in a corner. She drew out the trundle-bed, and made, it ready for Bella. She sat down and gave Bella some supper, and then put her into the trundle-bed, directing her to shut up her eyes and go to sleep. Bella obeyed. Mary Erskine then went to the fire and made some tea and toast for Albert, doing every thing in as quiet and noiseless a manner as possible. When the tea and toast were ready she put them upon a small waiter, and then moving her little work-table up to the side of the bed, she put the waiter upon it. When every thing was thus ready, she opened the curtains. Albert was asleep. He seemed however to be uneasy and restless, and he moaned now and then as if in pain. Mary Erskine stood leaning over him for some time, with a countenance filled with anxiety and concern. She then turned away, saying to herself, "If Albert is going to be sick and to die, what _will_ become of me?" She kneeled down upon the floor at the foot of the bed, crossed her arms before her, laid them down very quietly upon the counterpane, and reclined her forehead upon them. She remained in that position for some time without speaking a word. Presently she rose and took the tea and toast upon the waiter, and set them down by the fire in order to keep them warm. She next went to look at the children, to see if they were properly covered. Then she opened the bed-curtains a little way in order that she might see Albert in case he should wake or move, and having adjusted them as she wished, she went to the stoop door and took her seat there, with her knitting-work in her hand, in a position from which, on one side she could look into the room and observe every thing which took place there, and on the other side, watch the road and see if any one went by. She thought it probable that some of the workmen, who had been employed at the new house, might be going home about that time, and she wished to send into the village by them to ask Dr. Keep to come. Mary Erskine succeeded in her design of sending into the village by one of the workmen, and Dr. Keep came about nine o'clock He prescribed for Albert, and prepared, and left, some medicine for him. He said he hoped that he was not going to be very sick, but he could tell better in the morning when he would come again. "But you ought not to be here alone," said he to Mary Erskine. "You ought to have some one with you." "No," said Mary Erskine, "I can get along very well, alone, to-night,--and I think he will be better in the morning." Stories of sickness and suffering are painful to read, as the reality is painful to witness. We will therefore shorten the tale of Mary Erskine's anxiety and distress, by saying, at once that Albert grew worse instead of better, every day for a fortnight, and then died. During his sickness Mrs. Bell spent a great deal of time at Mary Erskine's house, and other persons, from the village, came every day to watch with Albert, and to help take care of the children. There was a young man also, named Thomas, whom Mary Erskine employed to come and stay there all day, to take the necessary care of the cattle and of the farm. They made a bed for Thomas in the scaffold in the barn. They also made up a bed in the stoop, in a corner which they divided off by means of a curtain. This bed was for the watchers, and for Mary Erskine herself, when she or they wished to lie down. Mary Erskine went to it, herself very seldom. She remained at her husband's bedside almost all the time, day and night. Albert suffered very little pain, and seemed to sleep most of the time. He revived a little the afternoon before he died, and appeared as if he were going to be better. He looked up into Mary Erskine's face and smiled. It was plain, however, that he was very feeble. There was nobody but Mrs. Bell in the house, at that time, besides Mary Erskine and the baby. Bella had gone to Mrs. Bell's house, and Mary Bell was taking care of her. Albert beckoned his wife to come to him, and said to her, in a faint and feeble voice, that he wished Mrs. Bell to write something for him. Mary Erskine immediately brought her work-table up to the bedside, opened the drawer, took out one of the sheets of paper and a pen, opened the inkstand, and thus made every thing ready for writing. Mrs. Bell took her seat by the table in such a manner that her head was near to Albert's as it lay upon the pillow. "I am ready now," said Mrs. Bell. "I bequeath all my property,"--said Albert. Mrs. Bell wrote these words upon the paper, and then said, "Well: I have written that." "To Mary Erskine my wife," said Albert. "I have written that," said Mrs. Bell, a minute afterwards. "Now hand it to me to sign," said Albert. They put the paper upon a book, and raising Albert up in the bed, they put the pen into his hand. He wrote his name at the bottom of the writing at the right hand. Then moving his hand to the left, he wrote the word '_witness_' under the writing on that side. His hand trembled, but he wrote the word pretty plain. As he finished writing it he told Mrs. Bell that she must sign her name as witness. When this had been done he gave back the paper and the pen into Mary Erskine's hand, and said that she must take good care of that paper, for it was very important. He then laid his head down again upon the pillow and shut his eyes. He died that night. Mary Erskine was entirely overwhelmed with grief, when she found that all was over. In a few hours, however, she became comparatively calm, and the next day she began to help Mrs. Bell in making preparations for the funeral. She sent for Bella to come home immediately. Mrs. Bell urged her very earnestly to take both the children, and go with her to _her_ house, after the funeral, and stay there for a few days at least, till she could determine what to do. "No," said Mary Erskine. "It will be better for me to come back here." "What do you think you shall do?" said Mrs. Bell. "I don't know," said Mary Erskine. "I can't even begin to think now. I am going to wait a week before I try to think about it at all." "And in the mean time you are going to stay in this house." "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I think that is best." "But you must not stay here alone," said Mrs. Bell. "I will come back with you and stay with you, at least one night." "No," said Mary Erskine. "I have got to learn to be alone now, and I may as well begin at once. I am very much obliged to you for all your--" Here Mary Erskine's voice faltered, and she suddenly stopped. Mrs. Bell pitied her with all her heart, but she said no more. She remained at the house while the funeral procession was gone to the grave; and some friends came back with Mary Erskine, after the funeral. They all, however, went away about sunset, leaving Mary Erskine alone with her children. As soon as her friends had gone, Mary Erskine took the children and sat down in a rocking-chair, before the fire, holding them both in her lap, the baby upon one side and Bella upon the other, and began to rock back and forth with great rapidity. She kissed the children again and again, with many tears, and sometimes she groaned aloud, in the excess of her anguish. She remained sitting thus for half an hour. The twilight gradually faded away. The flickering flame, which rose from the fire in the fire-place, seemed to grow brighter as the daylight disappeared, and to illuminate the whole interior of the room, so as to give it a genial and cheerful expression. Mary Erskine gradually became calm. The children, first the baby, and then Bella, fell asleep. Finally Mary Erskine herself, who was by this time entirely exhausted with watching, care, and sorrow, fell asleep too. Mary Erskine slept sweetly for two full hours, and then was awaked by the nestling of the baby. [Illustration: THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS.] When Mary Erskine awoke she was astonished to find her mind perfectly calm, tranquil, and happy. She looked down upon her children--Bella asleep and the baby just awaking--with a heart full of maternal joy and pleasure. Her room, it seemed to her, never appeared so bright and cheerful and happy as then. She carried Bella to the bed and laid her gently down in Albert's place, and then, going back to the fire, she gave the baby the food which it required, and rocked it to sleep. Her heart was resigned, and tranquil, and happy, She put the baby, at length, into the cradle, and then, kneeling down, she thanked God with her whole soul for having heard her prayer, and granted her the spirit of resignation and peace. She then pushed open the curtains, and reclined herself upon the bed, where she lay for some time, with a peaceful smile upon her countenance, watching the flashing of a little tongue, of flame, which broke out at intervals from the end of a brand in the fire. After lying quietly thus, for a little while, she closed her eyes, and gradually fell asleep again. She slept very profoundly. It was a summer night, although, as usual, Mary Erskine had a fire. Clouds rose in the west, bringing with them gusts of wind and rain. The wind and the rain beat against the window, but they did not wake her. It thundered. The thunder did not wake her. The shower passed over, and the sky became, serene again, while Mary Erskine slept tranquilly on. At length the baby began to move in the cradle. Mary Erskine heard the first sound that its nestling made, and raised herself up suddenly. The fire had nearly gone out. There was no flame, and the room was lighted only by the glow of the burning embers. Mary Erskine was frightened to find herself alone. The tranquillity and happiness which she had experienced a few hours ago were all gone, and her mind was filled, instead, with an undefined and mysterious distress and terror. She went to the fire-place and built a new fire, for the sake of its company. She took the baby from the cradle and sat down in the rocking-chair, determining not to go to bed again till morning. She went to the window and looked out at the stars, to see if she could tell by them how long it would be before the morning would come. She felt afraid, though she knew not why, and holding the baby in her arms, with its head upon her shoulder, she walked back and forth across the room, in great distress and anguish, longing for the morning to come. Such is the capriciousness of grief. CHAPTER V. CONSULTATIONS. Mrs. Bell went home on the evening of the funeral, very much exhausted and fatigued under the combined effects of watching, anxiety, and exertion. She went to bed, and slept very soundly until nearly midnight. The thunder awaked her. She felt solitary and afraid. Mary Bell, who was then about nine years old, was asleep in a crib, in a corner of the room. There was a little night lamp, burning dimly on the table, and it shed a faint and dismal gleam upon the objects around it. Every few minutes, however, the lightning would flash into the windows and glare a moment upon the walls, and then leave the room in deeper darkness than ever. The little night lamp, whose feeble beam had been for the moment entirely overpowered, would then gradually come out to view again, to diffuse once more its faint illumination, until another flash of lightning came to extinguish it as before. Mrs. Bell rose from her bed, and went to the crib to see if Mary Bell was safe. She found her sleeping quietly. Mrs. Bell drew the crib out a little way from the wall, supposing that she should thus put it into a somewhat safer position. Then she lighted a large lamp. Then she closed all the shutters of the room, in order to shut out the lightning. Then she went to bed again, and tried to go to sleep. But she could not. She was thinking of Mary Erskine, and endeavoring to form some plan for her future life. She could not, however, determine what it was best for her to do. In the morning, after breakfast, she sat down at the window, with her knitting work in her hand, looking very thoughtful and sad. Presently she laid her work down in her lap, and seemed lost in some melancholy reverie. Mary Bell, who had been playing about the floor for some time, came up to her mother, and seeing her look so thoughtful and sorrowful, she said, "Mother, what is the matter with you?" "Why, Mary," said Mrs. Bell, in a melancholy tone, "I was thinking of poor Mary Erskine." "Well, mother," said Mary Bell, "could not you give her a little money, if she is poor? I will give her my ten cents." [Illustration: MRS. BELL.] Mary Bell had a silver piece of ten cents, which she kept in a little box, in her mother's room up stairs. "Oh, she is not poor for want of money," said Mrs. Bell. "Her husband made his will, before he died, and left her all his property." "Though I told Mr. Keep about it last night," continued Mrs. Bell, talking half to herself and half to Mary, "and he said the will was not good." "Not good," said Mary. "I think it is a very good will indeed. I am sure Mary Erskine ought to have it all. Who should have it, if not she?" "The children, I suppose," said her mother. "The children!" exclaimed Mary Bell. "Hoh! They are not half big enough. They are only two babies; a great baby and a little one." Mrs. Bell did not answer this, nor did she seem to take much notice of it, but took up her knitting again, and went on musing as before. Mary Bell did not understand very well about the will. The case was this: The law, in the state where Mary Erskine lived, provided that when a man died, as Albert had done, leaving a wife and children, and a farm, and also stock, and furniture, and other such movable property, if he made no will, the wife was to have a part of the property, and the rest must be saved for the children, in order to be delivered to them, when they should grow up, and be ready to receive it and use it. The farm, when there was a farm, was to be kept until the children should grow up, only their mother was to have one third of the benefit of it,--that is, one third of the rent of it, if they could let it--until the children became of age. The amount of the other two thirds was to be kept for them. In respect to all movable property, such as stock and tools, and furniture, and other things of that kind, since they could not very conveniently be kept till the children were old enough to use them, they were to be sold, and the wife was to have half the value, and the children the other half. In respect to the children's part of all the property, they were not, themselves, to have the care of it, but some person was to be appointed to be their guardian. This guardian was to have the care of all their share of the property, until they were of age, when it was to be paid over into their hands. If, however, the husband, before his death, was disposed to do so, he might make a will, and give all the property to whomsoever he pleased. If he decided, as Albert had done, to give it all to his wife, then it would come wholly under her control, at once. She would be under no obligation to keep any separate account of the children's share, but might expend it all herself, or if she were so inclined, she might keep it safely, and perhaps add to it by the proceeds of her own industry, and then, when the children should grow up, she might give them as much as her maternal affection should dictate. In order that the property of men who die, should be disposed of properly, according to law, or according to the will, if any will be made, it is required that soon after the death of any person takes place, the state of the case should be reported at a certain public office, instituted to attend to this business. There is such an office in every county in the New England states. It is called the Probate office. The officer, who has this business in charge, is called the Judge of Probate. There is a similar system in force, in all the other states of the Union, though the officers are sometimes called by different names from those which they receive in New England. Now, while Albert was lying sick upon his bed, he was occupied a great deal of the time, while they thought that he was asleep, in thinking what was to become of his wife and children in case he should die. He knew very well that in case he died without making any will, his property must be divided, under the direction of the Judge of Probate, and one part of it be kept for the children, while Mary Erskine would have the control only of the other part. This is a very excellent arrangement in all ordinary cases, so that the law, in itself, is a very good law. There are, however, some cases, which are exceptions, and Albert thought that Mary Erskine's case was one. It was owing, in a great measure, to her prudence and economy, to her efficient industry, and to her contented and happy disposition, that he had been able to acquire any property, instead of spending all that he earned, like Mr. Gordon, as fast as he earned it. Then, besides, he knew that Mary Erskine would act as conscientiously and faithfully for the benefit of the children, if the property was all her own, as she would if a part of it was theirs, and only held by herself, for safe keeping, as their guardian. Whereas, if this last arrangement went into effect, he feared that it would make her great trouble to keep the accounts, as she could not write, not even to sign her name. He determined, therefore, to make a will, and give all his property, of every kind, absolutely to her. This he did, in the manner described in the last chapter. The law invests every man with a very absolute power in respect to his property, authorizing him to make any disposition of it whatever, and carrying faithfully into effect, after his death, any wish that he may have expressed in regard to it, as his deliberate and final intention. It insists, however, that there should be evidence that the wish, so expressed, is really a deliberate and final act. It is not enough that the man should say in words what his wishes are. The will must be in writing, and it must be signed; or if the sick man can not write, he must make some mark with the pen, at the bottom of the paper, to stand instead of a signature, and to show that he considers the act, which he is performing, as a solemn and binding transaction. Nor will it do to have the will executed in the presence of only one witness; for if that were allowed, designing persons would sometimes persuade a sick man, who was rich, to sign a will which they themselves had written, telling him, perhaps, that it was only a receipt, or some other unimportant paper, and thus inducing him to convey his property in a way that he did not intend. The truth is, that there is necessity for a much greater degree of precautionary form, in the execution of a will, than in almost any other transaction; for as the man himself will be dead and gone when the time comes for carrying the will into effect,--and so can not give any explanation of his designs, it is necessary to make them absolutely clear and certain, independently of him. It was, accordingly, the law, in the state where Mary Erskine lived, that there should be three witnesses present, when any person signed a will; and also that when signing the paper, the man should say that he knew that it was his will. If three credible persons thus attested the reality and honesty of the transaction, it was thought sufficient, in all ordinary cases, to make it sure. Albert, it seems, was not aware how many witnesses were required. When he requested Mrs. Bell to sign his will, as witness, he thought that he was doing all that was necessary to make it valid. When, however, Mrs. Bell, afterwards, in going home, met Mr. Keep and related to him the transaction, he said that he was afraid that the will was not good, meaning that it would not stand in law. The thought that the will was probably not valid, caused Mrs. Bell a considerable degree of anxiety and concern, as she imagined that its failure would probably cause Mary Erskine a considerable degree of trouble and embarrassment, though she did not know precisely how. She supposed that the children's share of the property must necessarily be kept separate and untouched until they grew up, and that in the mean time their mother would have to work very hard in order to maintain herself and them too. But this is not the law. The guardian of children, in such cases, is authorized to expend, from the children's share of property, as much as is necessary for their maintenance while they are children; and it is only the surplus, if there is any, which it is required of her to pay over to them, when they come of age. It would be obviously unjust, in cases where children themselves have property left them by legacy, or falling to them by inheritance, to compel their father or mother to toil ten or twenty years to feed and clothe them, in order that they might have their property, whole and untouched, when they come of age. All that the law requires is that the property bequeathed to children, or falling to them by inheritance, shall always be exactly ascertained, and an account of it put upon record in the Probate office: and then, that a guardian shall be appointed, who shall expend only so much of it, while the children are young, as is necessary for their comfortable support and proper education; and then, when they come of age, if there is any surplus left, that it shall be paid over to them. In Mary Erskine's case, these accounts would, of course, cause her some trouble, but it would make but little difference in the end. Mrs. Bell spent a great deal of time, during the day, in trying to think what it would be best for Mary Erskine to do, and also in trying to think what she could herself do for her. She, however, made very little progress in respect to either of those points. It seemed to her that Mary Erskine could not move into the new house, and attempt to carry on the farm, and, on the other hand, it appeared equally out of the question for her to remain where she was, in her lonesome log cabin. She might move into the village, or to some house nearer the village, but what should she do in that case for a livelihood. In a word, the more that Mrs. Bell reflected upon the subject, the more at a loss she was. She determined to go and see Mary Erskine after dinner, again, as the visit would at least be a token of kindness and sympathy, even if it should do no other good. She arrived at the house about the middle of the afternoon. She found Mary Erskine busily at work, putting the house in order, and rectifying the many derangements which sickness and death always occasion. Mary Erskine received Mrs. Bell at first with a cheerful smile, and seemed, to all appearance, as contented and happy as usual. The sight of Mrs. Bell, however, recalled forcibly to her mind her irremediable loss, and overwhelmed her heart, again, with bitter grief. She went to the window, where her little work-table had been placed, and throwing herself down in a chair before it, she crossed her arms upon the table, laid her forehead down upon them in an attitude of despair, and burst into tears. Mrs. Bell drew up toward her and stood by her side in silence. She pitied her with all her heart, but she did not know what to say to comfort her. Just then little Bella came climbing up the steps, from the stoop, with some flowers in her hand, which she had gathered in the yard. As soon as she had got up into the room she stood upon her feet and went dancing along toward the baby, who was playing upon the floor, singing as she danced. She gave the baby the flowers, and then, seeing that her mother was in trouble, she came up toward the place and stood still a moment, with a countenance expressive of great concern. She put her arm around her mother's neck, saying in a very gentle and soothing tone, "Mother! what is the matter, mother?" Mary Erskine liberated one of her arms, and clasped Bella with it fondly, but did not raise her head, or answer. "Go and get some flowers for your mother," said Mrs. Bell, "like those which you got for the baby." "Well," said Bella, "I will." So she turned away, and went singing and dancing out of the room. "Mary," said Mrs. Bell. "I wish that you would shut up this house and take the children and come to my house, at least for a while, until you can determine what to do." Mary Erskine shook her head, but did not reply. She seemed, however, to be regaining her composure. Presently she raised her head, smoothed down her hair, which was very soft and beautiful, readjusted her dress, and sat up, looking out at the window. "If you stay here," continued Mrs. Bell, "you will only spend your time in useless and hopeless grief." "No," said Mary Erskine, "I am not going to do any such a thing." "Have you begun to think at all what you shall do?" asked Mrs. Bell. "No," said Mary Erskine. "When any great thing happens, I always have to wait a little while till I get accustomed to knowing that it has happened, before I can determine what to do about it. It seems as if I did not more than half know yet, that Albert is dead. Every time the door opens I almost expect to see him come in." "Do you think that you shall move to the new house?" asked Mrs. Bell. "No," said Mary Erskine, "I see that I can't do that. I don't wish to move there, either, now." "There's one thing," continued Mrs. Bell after a moment's pause, "that perhaps I ought to tell you, though it is rather bad news for you. Mr. Keep says that he is afraid that the will, which Albert made, is not good in law." "Not good! Why not?" asked Mary Erskine. "Why because there is only one witness The law requires that there should be three witnesses, so as to be sure that Albert really signed the will." "Oh no," said Mary Erskine. "One witness is enough, I am sure. The Judge of Probate knows you, and he will believe you as certainly as he would a dozen witnesses." "But I suppose," said Mrs. Bell, "that it does not depend upon the Judge of Probate. It depends upon the law." Mary Erskine was silent. Presently she opened her drawer and took out the will and looked at it mysteriously. She could not read a word of it. "Read it to me, Mrs. Bell," said she, handing the paper to Mrs. Bell. Mrs. Bell read as follows: "I bequeath all my property to my wife, Mary Erskine. Albert Forester. Witness, Mary Bell." "I am sure that is all right," said Mary Erskine. "It is very plain, and one witness is enough. Besides, Albert would know how it ought to be done." "But then," she continued after a moment's pause, "he was very sick and feeble. Perhaps he did not think. I am sure I shall be very sorry if it is not a good will, for if I do not have the farm and the stock, I don't know what I shall do with my poor children." Mary Erskine had a vague idea that if the will should prove invalid, she and her children would lose the property, in some way or other, entirely,--though she did not know precisely how. After musing upon this melancholy prospect a moment she asked, "Should not I have _any_ of the property, if the will proves not to be good?" "Oh yes," said Mrs. Bell, "you will have a considerable part of it, at any rate." "How much?" asked Mary Erskine. "Why about half, I believe," replied Mrs. Bell. "Oh," said Mary Erskine, apparently very much relieved. "That will do very well. Half will be enough. There is a great deal of property. Albert told me that the farm and the new house are worth five hundred dollars, and the stock is worth full three hundred more. And Albert does not owe any thing at all." "Well," said Mrs. Bell. "You will have half. Either half or a third, I forget exactly which." "And what becomes of the rest?" asked Mary Erskine. "Why the rest goes to the children," said Mrs. Bell. "To the children!" repeated Mary Erskine. "Yes," said she, "you will have to be appointed guardian, and take care of it for them, and carry in your account, now and then, to the Judge of Probate." "Oh," said Mary Erskine, her countenance brightening up with an expression of great relief and satisfaction. "That is just the same thing. If it is to go to the children, and I am to take care of it for them, it is just the same thing. I don't care any thing about the will at all." So saying, she threw the paper down upon the table, as if it was of no value whatever. "But there's one thing," she said again, after pausing a few minutes. "I can't keep any accounts. I can not even write my name." "That is no matter," said Mrs. Bell. "There will be but little to do about the accounts, and it is easy to get somebody to do that for you." "I wish I had learned to write," said Mary Erskine. Mrs. Bell said nothing, but in her heart she wished so too. "Do you think that I could possibly learn now?" asked Mary Erskine. "Why,--I don't know,--perhaps, if you had any one to teach you." "Thomas might teach me, perhaps," said Mary Erskine, doubtfully. Then, in a moment she added again, in a desponding tone,--"but I don't know how long he will stay here." "Then you don't know at all yet," said Mrs. Bell, after a short pause, "what you shall conclude to do." "No," replied Mary Erskine, "not at all. I am going on, just as I am now, for some days, without perplexing myself at all about it. And I am not going to mourn and make myself miserable. I am going to make myself as contented and happy as I can, with my work and my children." Here Mary Erskine suddenly laid her head down upon her arms again, on the little work-table before her, and burst into tears. After sobbing convulsively a few minutes she rose, hastily brushed the tears away with her handkerchief, and went toward the door. She then took the water pail, which stood upon a bench near the door, and said that she was going to get some water, at the spring, for tea, and that she would be back in a moment. She returned very soon, with a countenance entirely serene. "I have been trying all day," said Mrs. Bell, "to think of something that I could do for you, to help you or to relieve you in some way or other; but I can not think of any thing at all that I can do." "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "there is one thing that you could do for me, that would be a very great kindness, a very great kindness indeed." "What is it?" asked Mrs. Bell. "I am afraid that you will think it is too much for me to ask." "No," said Mrs. Bell, "what is it?" Mary Erskine hesitated a moment, and then said, "To let Mary Bell come and stay here with me, a few days." "Do you mean all night, too?" asked Mrs. Bell. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "all the time." "Why, you have got two children to take care of now," replied Mrs. Bell, "and nobody to help you. I should have thought that you would have sooner asked me to take Bella home with me." "No," said Mary Erskine. "I should like to have Mary Bell here, very much, for a few days." "Well," said Mrs. Bell, "she shall certainly come. I will send her, to-morrow morning." CHAPTER VI. MARY BELL IN THE WOODS. Mary Erskine had a bible in her house, although she could not read it. When Albert was alive he was accustomed to read a chapter every evening, just before bed-time, and then he and Mary Erskine would kneel down together, by the settle which stood in the corner, while he repeated his evening prayer. This short season of devotion was always a great source of enjoyment to Mary Erskine. If she was tired and troubled, it soothed and quieted her mind. If she was sorrowful, it comforted her. If she was happy, it seemed to make her happiness more deep and unalloyed. Mary Erskine could not read the bible, but she could repeat a considerable number of texts and verses from it, and she knew, too, the prayer, which Albert had been accustomed to offer, almost by heart. So after Mrs. Bell had gone home, as described in the last chapter, and after she herself had undressed the children and put them to bed, and had finished all the other labors and duties of the day, she took the bible down from its shelf, and seating herself upon the settle, so as to see by the light of the fire, as Albert had been accustomed to do, she opened the book, and then began to repeat such verses as she could remember. At length she closed the book, and laying it down upon the seat of the settle, in imitation of Albert's custom, she kneeled down before it, and repeated the prayer. The use of the bible itself, in this service, was of course a mere form:--but there is sometimes a great deal of spiritual good to be derived from a form, when the heart is in it, to give it meaning and life. Mary Erskine went to bed comforted and happy; and she slept peacefully through each one of the three periods of repose, into which the care of an infant by a mother usually divides the night. In the morning, the first thought which came into her mind was, that Mary Bell was coming to see her. She anticipated the visit from her former charge with great pleasure. She had had Mary Bell under her charge from early infancy, and she loved her, accordingly, almost as much as if she were her own child. Besides, as Mary Bell had grown up she had become a very attractive and beautiful child, so kind to all, so considerate, so gentle, so active and intelligent, and at the same time so docile, and so quiet, that she was a universal favorite wherever she went. Mary Erskine was full of joy at the idea of having her come and spend several days and nights too, at her house, and she was impatient for the time to arrive when she might begin to expect her. At eight o'clock, she began to go often to the door to look down the road. At nine, she began to feel uneasy. At ten, she put on her hood and went down the road, almost to the corner, to meet her--looking forward intensely all the way, hoping at every turn to see her expected visitor advancing along the path. She went on thus until she came in sight of the corner, without seeing or hearing any thing of Mary Bell; and then she was compelled to return home alone, disappointed and sad. She waited dinner from twelve until one, but no Mary Bell appeared. Mary Erskine then concluded that something had happened to detain her expected visitor at home, and that she might be disappointed of the visit altogether. Still she could not but hope that Mary would come in the course of the afternoon. The hours of the afternoon, however, passed tediously away, and the sun began to decline toward the west; still there was no Mary Bell. The cause of her detention will now be explained. When Mary Bell came down to breakfast, on the morning after her mother's visit to Mary Erskine, her mother told her, as she came into the room, that she had an invitation for her to go out to Mary Erskine's that day. "And may I go?" asked Mary Bell. "Yes," said her mother, "I think I shall let you go." "I am _so_ glad!" said Mary Bell, clapping her hands. "Mary Erskine wishes to have you stay there several days," continued her mother. Mary Bell began to look a little sober again. She was not quite sure that she should be willing to be absent from her mother, for so many days. "Could not I come home every night?" said she. "Why, she wishes," answered Mrs. Bell, "to have you stay there all the time, day and night, for several days. It is an opportunity for you to do some good. You could not do Mary Erskine any good by giving her your money, for she has got plenty of money; nor by carrying her any thing good to eat, for her house is full of abundance, and she knows as well how to make good things as any body in town. But you can do her a great deal of good by going and staying with her, and keeping her company. Perhaps you can help her a little, in taking care of the children." "Well," said Mary Bell, "I should like to go." So Mrs. Bell dressed Mary neatly, for the walk, gave her a very small tin pail, with two oranges in it for Mary Erskine's children, and then sent out word to the hired man, whose name was Joseph, to harness the horse into the wagon. When the wagon was ready, she directed Joseph to carry Mary to the corner, and see that she set out upon the right road there, toward Mary Erskine's house. It was only about half a mile from the corner to the house, and the road, though crooked, stony, and rough, was very plain, and Mary Bell had often walked over it alone. There was, in fact, only one place where there could be any danger of Mary Bell's losing her way, and that was at a point about midway between the corner and Mary Erskine's house, where a road branched off to the right, and led into the woods. There was a large pine-tree at this point, which Mary Bell remembered well; and she knew that she must take the left-hand road when she reached this tree. There were various little paths, at other places, but none that could mislead her. When Joseph, at length, set Mary Bell down in the path at the corner, she stood still, upon a flat rock by the side of the road, to see him turn the wagon and set out upon his return. "Good-bye, Joseph," said she. "I am going to be gone several days." "Good-bye," said Joseph, turning to look round at Mary Bell, as the wagon slowly moved away. "Bid mother good-bye," said Mary Bell,--"and Joseph, don't you forget to water my geranium." "No," said Joseph, "and don't you forget to take the left-hand road." "No," said Mary Bell. She felt a slight sensation of lonesomeness, to be left there in solitude at the entrance of a dark and somber wood, especially when she reflected that it was to be several days before she should see her mother again. But then, calling up to her mind a vivid picture of Mary Erskine's house, and of the pleasure that she should enjoy there, in playing with Bella and the baby, she turned toward the pathway into the woods, and walked resolutely forward, swinging her pail in her hand and singing a song. There were a great many birds in the woods; some were hopping about upon the rocks and bushes by the road-side. Others were singing in solitary places, upon the tops of tall trees in the depths of the forest, their notes being heard at intervals, in various directions, as if one was answering another, to beguile the solemn loneliness of the woods. The trees were very tall, and Mary Bell, as she looked up from her deep and narrow pathway, and saw the lofty tops rocking to and fro with a very slow and gentle motion, as they were waved by the wind, it seemed to her that they actually touched the sky. At one time she heard the leaves rustling, by the side of the road, and looking in under the trees, she saw a gray squirrel, just in the act of leaping up from the leaves upon the ground to the end of a log. As soon as he had gained this footing, he stopped and looked round at Mary Bell. Mary Bell stopped too; each looked at the other for several seconds, in silence,--the child with an expression of curiosity and pleasure upon her countenance, and the squirrel with one of wonder and fear upon his. Mary Bell made a sudden motion toward him with her hand to frighten him a little. It did frighten him. He turned off and ran along the log as fast as he could go, until he reached the end of it, and disappeared. "Poor Bobbin," said Mary Bell, "I am sorry that I frightened you away." A few steps farther on in her walk, Mary Bell came to a place where a great number of yellow butterflies had settled down together in the path. Most of them were still, but a few were fluttering about, to find good places. "Oh, what pretty butterflies!" said Mary Bell. "They have been flying about, I suppose, till they have got tired, and have stopped to rest. But if I were a butterfly, I would rest upon flowers, and not upon the ground." Mary Bell paused and looked upon the butterflies a moment, and then said, "And now how shall I get by? I am sure I don't want to tread upon those butterflies. I will sit down here, myself, on a stone, and wait till they get rested and fly away. Besides, I am tired myself, and _I_ shall get rested too." Just as she took her seat she saw that there was a little path, which diverged here from the main road, and turned into the woods a little way, seeming to come back again after a short distance. There were many such little paths, here and there, running parallel to the main road. They were made by the cows, in the spring of the year when the roads were wet, to avoid the swampy places. These places were now all dry, and the bye-paths were consequently of no use, though traces of them remained. "No," said Mary Bell. "I will not stop to rest; I am not very tired; so I will go around by this little path. It will come into the road again very soon." Mary Bell's opinion would have been just, in respect to any other path but this one; but it so happened, very unfortunately for her, that now, although not aware of it, she was in fact very near the great pine-tree, where the road into the woods branched off, and the path which she was determining to take, though it commenced in the main road leading to Mary Erskine's, did not return to it again, but after passing, by a circuitous and devious course, through the bushes a little way, ended in the branch road which led into the woods, at a short distance beyond the pine-tree. Mary Bell was not aware of this state of things, but supposed, without doubt, that the path would come out again into the same road that it left, and that, she could pass round through it, and so avoid disturbing the butterflies. She thought, indeed, it might possibly be that the path would not come back at all, but would lose itself in the woods; and to guard against this danger, she determined that after going on for a very short distance, if she found that it did not come out into the road again, she would come directly back. The idea of its coming out into a wrong road did not occur to her mind as a possibility. She accordingly entered the path, and after proceeding in it a little way she was quite pleased to see it coming out again into what she supposed was the main road. Dismissing, now, all care and concern, she walked forward in a very light-hearted and happy manner. The road was very similar in its character to the one which she ought to have taken, so that there was nothing in the appearances around her to lead her to suppose that she was wrong. She had, moreover, very little idea of measures of time, and still less of distance, and thus she went on for more than an hour before she began to wonder why she did not get to Mary Erskine's. She began to suspect, then, that she had in some way or other lost the right road. She, however, went on, looking anxiously about for indications of an approach to the farm, until at length she saw signs of an opening in the woods, at some distance before her. She concluded to go on until she came to this opening, and if she could not tell where she was by the appearance of the country there, she would go back again by the road she came. The opening, when she reached it, appeared to consist of a sort of pasture land, undulating in its surface, and having thickets of trees and bushes scattered over it, here and there. There was a small elevation in the land, at a little distance from the place where Mary Bell came out, and she thought that she would go to the top of this elevation, and look for Mary Erskine's house, all around. She accordingly did so, but neither Mary Erskine's house nor any other human habitation was anywhere to be seen. She sat down upon a smooth stone, which was near her, feeling tired and thirsty, and beginning to be somewhat anxious in respect to her situation. She thought, however, that there was no great danger, for her mother would certainly send Joseph out into the woods to find her, as soon as she heard that she was lost. She concluded, at first, to wait where she was until Joseph should come, but on second thoughts, she concluded to go back by the road which had led her to the opening, and so, perhaps meet him on the way. She was very thirsty, and wished very much that one of the oranges in the pail belonged to her, for she would have liked to eat one very much indeed. But they were not either of them hers. One belonged to Bella, and the other to the baby. She walked back again to the woods, intending to return toward the corner, by the road in which she came, but now she could not find the entrance to it. She wandered for some time, this way and that, along the margin of the wood, but could find no road. She, however, at length found something which she liked better. It was a beautiful spring of cool water, bubbling up from between the rocks on the side of a little hill. She sat down by the side of this spring, took off the cover from her little pail, took out the oranges and laid them down carefully in a little nook where they would not roll away, and then using the pail for a dipper, she dipped up some water, and had an excellent drink. "What a good spring this is!" said she to herself. "It is as good as Mary Erskine's." It was the time of the year in which raspberries were ripe, and Mary Bell, in looking around her from her seat near the spring, saw at a distance a place which appeared as if there were raspberry bushes growing there. "I verily believe that there are some raspberries," said she. "I will go and see; if I could only find plenty of raspberries, it would be all that I should want." The bushes proved to be raspberry bushes, as Mary had supposed, and she found them loaded with fruit. She ate of them abundantly, and was very much refreshed. She would have filled her pail besides, so as to have some to take along with her, but she had no place to put the oranges, except within the pail. It was now about noon; the sun was hot, and Mary Bell began to be pretty tired. She wished that they would come for her. She climbed up upon a large log which lay among the bushes, and called as loud as she could, "_Mary Erskine! Mary Erskine!_" Then after pausing a moment, and listening in vain for an answer, she renewed her call, "_Thom--as! Thom--as!_" Then again, after another pause, "_Jo--seph! Jo--seph!_" She listened a long time, but heard nothing except the singing of the birds, and the sighing of the wind upon the tops of the trees in the neighboring forests. She began to feel very anxious and very lonely. She descended from the log, and walked along till she got out of the bushes. She came to a place where there were rocks, with smooth surfaces of moss and grass among them. She found a shady place among these rocks, and sat down upon the moss. She laid her head down upon her arm and began to weep bitterly. Presently she raised her head again, and endeavored to compose herself, saying, "But I must not cry. I must be patient, and wait till they come. I am very tired, but I must not go to sleep, for then I shall not hear them when they come. I will lay my head down, but I will keep my eyes open." She laid her head down accordingly upon a mossy mound, and notwithstanding her resolution to keep her eyes open, in ten minutes she was fast asleep. She slept very soundly for more than two hours. She was a little frightened when she awoke, to find that she had been sleeping, and she started up and climbed along upon a rock which was near by, until she gained a projecting elevation, and here she began to listen again. She heard the distant tinkling of a bell. "Hark," said she. "I hear a bell. It is out _that_ way. I wonder what it is. I will go there and see." So taking up her pail very carefully, she walked along in the direction where she had heard the bell. She stopped frequently to listen. Sometimes she could hear it, and sometimes she could not. She, however, steadily persevered, though she encountered a great many obstacles on the way. Sometimes there were wet places, which it was very hard to get round. At other times, there were dense thickets, which she had to scramble through, or rocks over which she had to climb, either up or down. The sound, however, of the bell, came nearer and nearer. "I verily believe," said she at length, "that it is Queen Bess." Queen Bess was one of Mary Erskine's cows. The idea that the sound which she was following might possibly be Queen Bess's bell, gave her great courage. She was well acquainted with Queen Bess, having often gone out to see Mary Erskine milk her, with the other cows. She had even tried many times to milk her herself, Mary Erskine having frequently allowed her to milk enough, in a mug, to provide herself with a drink. "I hope it is Queen Bess," said Mary Bell. "She knows me, and she will give me a drink of her milk, I am sure." Mary Bell proved to be right in her conjecture. It was Queen Bess. She was feeding very quietly, Mary Erskine's other cows being near, some cropping the grass and some browsing upon the bushes. Queen Bess raised her head and looked at Mary Bell with a momentary feeling of astonishment, wondering how she came there, and then put down her head again and resumed her feeding. "Now," said Mary Bell, "I shall certainly get home again, for I shall stay with you until Thomas comes up after the cows. He will find you by your bell. And now I am going to put these oranges down upon the grass, and milk some milk into this pail." So Mary Bell put the oranges in a safe place upon the grass, and then went cautiously up to the side of the cow, and attempted to milk her. But it is very difficult to milk a cow while she is grazing in a pasture. She is not inclined to stand still, but advances all the time, slowly, step by step, making it very difficult to do any thing at milking. Mary Bell, however, succeeded very well. She was so thirsty that she did not wait to get a great deal at a time, but as soon as she had two or three spoonfuls in the pail, she stopped to drink it. In this manner, by dint of a great deal of labor and pains, she succeeded, in about a quarter of an hour, in getting as much as she wanted. [Illustration: MARY BELL AND QUEEN BESS.] She remained in company with the cows all the afternoon. Sometimes she would wander from them a little way to gather raspberries, and then she would creep up cautiously to Queen Bess, and get another drink of milk. When she had thus had as many raspberries, and as much milk, as she wished, she amused herself for some time in gathering a bouquet of wild flowers to give to Mary Erskine on her return. The time, being thus filled up with useful occupation, passed pleasantly and rapidly along, and at length, when the sun was nearly ready to go down, she heard a distant voice shouting to the cows. It was Thomas, coming to drive them home. Thomas was of course greatly astonished to find Mary Bell in the woods, and his astonishment was not at all diminished at hearing her story. He offered to carry her, in going home,--but she said that she was not tired, and could walk as well as not. So they went down together, the cows running along before them in the paths. When they reached the house, Thomas went to turn the cows into the yard, while Mary Bell went into the house to Mary Erskine, with her little pail in one hand, and her bouquet of flowers in the other. CHAPTER VII. HOUSE-KEEPING. One of the greatest pleasures which Mary Bell enjoyed, in her visits at Mary Erskine's at this period, was to assist in the house-keeping. She was particularly pleased with being allowed to help in getting breakfast or tea, and in setting the table. She rose accordingly very early on the morning after her arrival there from the woods, as described in the last chapter, and put on the working-dress which Mary Erskine had made for her, and which was always kept at the farm. This was not the working-dress which was described in a preceding chapter as the one which Mary Bell used to play in, when out among the stumps. Her playing among the stumps was two or three years before the period which we are now describing. During those two or three years, Mary Bell had wholly outgrown her first working-dress, and her mind had become improved and enlarged, and her tastes matured more rapidly even than her body had grown. She now no longer took any pleasure in dabbling in the brook, or planting potatoes in the sand,--or in heating sham ovens in stumps and hollow trees. She had begun to like realities. To bake a real cake for breakfast or tea, to set a real table with real cups and saucers, for a real and useful purpose, or to assist Mary Erskine in the care of the children, or in making the morning arrangements in the room, gave her more pleasure than any species of child's play could possibly do. When she went out now, she liked to be dressed neatly, and take pleasant walks, to see the views or to gather flowers. In a word, though she was still in fact a child, she began to have in some degree the tastes and feelings of a woman. "What are you going to have for breakfast?" said Mary Bell to Mary Erskine, while they were getting up. "What should you like?" asked Mary Erskine in reply. "Why I should like some roast potatoes, and a spider cake," said Mary Bell. The spider cake received its name from being baked before the fire in a flat, iron vessel, called a spider. The spider was so called probably, because, like the animal of that name, it had several legs and a great round body. The iron spider, however, unlike its living namesake, had a long straight tail, which, extending out behind, served for a handle. The spider cake being very tender and nice, and coming as it usually did, hot upon the table, made a most excellent breakfast,--though this was not the principal reason which led Mary Bell to ask for it. She liked to _make_ the spider cake; for Mary Erskine, after mixing and preparing the material, used to allow Mary Bell to roll it out to its proper form, and put it into the spider. Then more than all the rest, Mary Bell liked to _bake_ a spider cake. She used to take great pleasure in carrying the cake in her two hands to the fire-place, and laying it carefully in its place in the spider, and then setting it up before the fire to bake, lifting the spider by the end of the tail. She also took great satisfaction afterward in watching it, as the surface which was presented toward the fire became browned by the heat. When it was sufficiently baked upon one side it had to be turned, and then set up before the fire again, to be baked on the other side; and every part of the long operation was always watched by Mary Bell with great interest and pleasure. Mary Erskine consented to Mary Bell's proposal in respect to breakfast, and for an hour Mary Bell was diligently employed in making the preparations. [Illustration: MARY BELL GETTING BREAKFAST.] She put the potatoes in the bed which Mary Erskine opened for them in the ashes. She rolled out the spider cake, and put it into the spider; she spread the cloth upon the table, and took down the plates, and the cups and saucers from the cupboard, and set them in order on the table. She went down into the little cellar to bring up the butter. She skimmed a pan of milk to get the cream, she measured out the tea; and at last, when all else was ready, she took a pitcher and went down to the spring to bring up a pitcher of cool water. In all these operations Bella accompanied her, always eager to help, and Mary Bell, knowing that it gave Bella great pleasure to have something to do, called upon her, continually, for her aid, and allowed her to do every thing that it was safe to entrust to her. Thus they went on very happily together. At length, when the breakfast was ready they all sat down around the table to eat it, except the baby. He remained in the trundle-bed, playing with his play-things. His play-things consisted of three or four smooth pebble stones of different colors, each being of about the size of an egg, which his mother had chosen for him out of the brook, and also of a short piece of bright iron chain. The chain was originally a part of a harness, but the harness had become worn out, and Albert had brought in the chain and given it to the baby. The baby liked these play-things very much indeed,--both the pebbles and the chain. When he was well, and neither hungry nor sleepy, he was never tired of playing with them,--trying to bite them, and jingling them together. "Now," said Mary Erskine to the children, as they were sitting at the table, at the close of the breakfast, and after Thomas had gone away, "you may go out and play for an hour while I finish my morning work, and put the baby to sleep, and then I want you to come in and have a school." "Who shall be the teacher?" said Mary Bell. "You shall be _one_," said Mary Erskine. "Are you going to have two teachers?" asked Mary Bell. "If you do, then we can't have any scholars;--for the baby is not old enough to go to school." "I know it," said Mary Erskine, "but we can have three scholars without him." "Who shall they be?" asked Mary Bell. "You and I, and Bella," answered Mary Erskine. "I will tell you what my plan is. I expect that I shall conclude to stay here, and live in this house alone for some years to come, and the children can not go to school, for there is now nobody to take them, and it is too far for them to go alone. I must teach them myself at home, or else they can not learn. I am very sorry indeed now that I did not learn to read and write when I was a child: for that would have saved me the time and trouble of learning now. But I think I _can_ learn now. Don't you think I can, Mary?" "Oh, yes, indeed," said Mary Bell, "I am sure you can. It is very easy to read." "I am going to try," continued Mary Erskine, "and so I want you to teach me. And while you are teaching me, Bella may as well begin at the same time. So that you will have two scholars." "Three--you said three scholars," rejoined Mary Bell. "Yes," said Mary Erskine. "You shall be the third scholar. I am going to teach you to draw." "Do you know how to draw?" asked Mary Bell, surprised. "No," said Mary Erskine, "but I can show _you_ how to learn." "Well," said Mary Bell, "I should like to learn to draw very much indeed. Though I don't see how any body can teach a thing unless they can do it themselves." "Sometimes they can," said Mary Erskine. "A man may teach a horse to canter, without being able to canter himself." Mary Bell laughed at the idea of a man attempting to canter, and said that she should be very glad to try to learn to draw. Mary Erskine then said that after they had finished their breakfast the children might go out an hour to walk and play, and that then when they should come in, they would find every thing ready for the school. Mary Bell concluded to take a walk about the farm during the time which they were allowed to spend in play, before the school was to begin. So she and Bella put on their bonnets, and bidding Mary Erskine good morning, they sallied forth. As they came out at the great stoop door their attention was arrested by the sound of a cow-bell. The sound seemed to come from the barn-yard. "Ah," said Mary Bell, "there is Queen Bess going to pasture this morning. How glad I was to see her yesterday in the woods! Let us go and see her now." So saying she led the way around the corner of the house, by a pleasant path through the high grass that was growing in the yard, toward the barns. Bella followed her. They passed through a gate, then across a little lane, then through a gate on the other side of the lane, which led into the barn-yards. The barns, like the house, were built of logs, but they were very neatly made, and the yards around them were at this season of the year dry and green. Mary and Bella walked on across the barn-yard until they got to the back side of the barn, when they found Thomas turning the cows into a little green lane which led to the pasture. It was not very far to the pasture bars, and so Mary Bell proposed that they should go and help Thomas drive the cows. They accordingly went on, but they had not gone far before they came to a brook, which here flowed across the lane. The cows walked directly through the brook, while Thomas got across it by stepping over some stones at one side. Mary Bell thought that the spaces were a little too wide for Bella to jump over, so she concluded not to go any farther in that direction. Bella then proposed that they should go and see the new house. This Mary Bell thought would be an excellent plan if Bella's mother would give them leave. They accordingly went in to ask her. They found her in the back stoop, employed in straining the milk which Thomas had brought in. She was straining it into great pans. She said that she should like to have the children go and see the new house very much indeed, and she gave them the key, so that they might go into it. The children took the key and went across the fields by a winding path until they came out into the main road again, near the new house. The house was in a very pleasant place indeed. There was a green yard in front of it, and a place for a garden at one side. At the other side was a wide yard open to the road, so that persons could ride up to the door without the trouble of opening any gate. The children walked up this open yard. They went to the door, intending to unlock it with their key, but they were surprised to find that there was not any key hole. Mary Bell said that she supposed the key hole was not made yet. They tried to open the door, but they could not succeed. It was obviously fastened on the inside. "Now how can we get in?" said Bella. "I don't see," replied Mary Bell, "and I can't think how they locked the door without any key-hole." "Could not we climb in at one of the windows?" said Mary Bell,--"only they are so high up!" The children looked around at the windows. They were all too high from the ground for them to reach. There was, however, a heap of short blocks and boards which the carpenters had left in the yard near the house, and Mary Bell said that perhaps they could build up a "climbing pile" with them, so as to get in at a window. She accordingly went to this heap, and by means of considerable exertion and toil she rolled two large blocks--the ends of sticks of timber which the carpenters had sawed off in framing the house--up under the nearest window. She placed these blocks, which were about two feet long, at a little distance apart under the window, with one end of each block against the house. She then, with Bella's help, got some short boards from the pile, and placed them across these blocks from one to the other, making a sort of a flooring. "There," said Mary Bell, looking at the work with great satisfaction, "that is _one_ story." Then she brought two more blocks, and laid them upon the flooring over the first two, placing the second pair of blocks, like the first, at right angles to the house, and with the ends close against it to keep them steady. On these blocks she laid a second flooring of short boards, which made the second story. She then stepped up upon the staging which she had thus built, to see if it was steady. It was very steady indeed. "Let _me_ get up on it," said Bella. Bella accordingly climbed up, and she and Mary Bell danced upon it together in great glee for some time to show how steady it was. Mary Bell then attempted to open the window. She found that she could open it a little way, but not far enough to get in. So she said that she must make one more "story." They then both went back to the pile, and got two more blocks and another board to lay across upon the top of them for a flooring, and when these were placed, Mary Bell found that she could raise the window very high. She got a long stick to put under it to hold it up, and then tried to climb in. She found, however, that the window sill over which she was to climb was still rather too high; but, at length, after various consultations and experiments, _Bella_ succeeded in getting up by means of the help which Mary Bell, who was large and strong, gave her, by "boosting her," as she called it, that is, pushing her up from below while she climbed by means of her arms clasped over the window sill above. Bella being thus in the house, took the key, which Mary Bell handed her for the purpose, and went along to the entry to unlock the door, while Mary Bell, stepping down from the scaffolding, went to the door on the outside, ready to enter when it should be opened. The children had no doubt that there was a key-hole in the lock on the inside, although there was none made in the door on the outside. When, however, Bella reached the door on the inside, she called out to Mary Bell, through the door, to say that she could not find any key-hole. "It is in the lock," said Mary Bell. "But there is not any lock," said Bella. "Is not there any thing?" asked Mary Bell. "Yes," said Bella, "there is a bolt." "Oh, very well, then, open the bolt," replied Mary Bell. After a great deal of tugging and pushing at the bolt, Bella succeeded in getting it back, but even then the door would not come open. It was new, and it fitted very tight. Bella said that Mary Bell must push from the outside, while she held up the latch. Mary Bell accordingly pushed with all her force, and at length the door flew open, and to their great joy they found themselves both fairly admitted to the house. They rambled about for some time, looking at the different rooms, and at the various conveniences for house-keeping which Albert had planned, and which were all just ready for use when Albert had died. There was a sink in the kitchen, with a little spout leading into it, from which the water was running in a constant stream. It came from an aqueduct of logs brought under ground. There was a tin dipper there upon the top of the post which the water-spout came out of, and Mary Bell and Bella had an excellent drink from it the first thing. The kitchen floor was covered with shavings, and the children played in them for some time, until they were tired. Then they went and got another drink. When they at last got tired of the kitchen, they went to a window at the back side of the sitting-room, which looked out toward the garden, and commanded also a beautiful prospect beyond. They opened this window in order to see the garden better. A fresh and delightful breeze came in immediately, which the children enjoyed very much. The breeze, however, in drawing through the house, shut all the doors which the children had left open, with a loud noise, and then having no longer any egress, it ceased to come in. The air seemed suddenly to become calm; the children stood for some time at the window, looking out at the garden, and at the pond, and the mountains beyond. At length they shut the window again, and went to the door at which they had entered, and found it shut fast. They could not open it, for there was now no one to push upon the outside. Mary Bell laughed. Bella looked very much frightened. "What shall we do?" said she. "We can't get out." "Oh, don't be afraid," said Mary Bell, "we will get out some way or other." She then tried again to open the door, exerting all her strength in pulling upon the latch, but all in vain. They were finally obliged to give up the attempt as utterly hopeless. Mary Bell then led the way to the window where Bella had got in, and looked out upon the little scaffolding. It looked as if the window was too high above the scaffolding for them to get down there safely. One of them might, perhaps, have succeeded in descending, if the other had been outside to help her down; but as it was, Mary Bell herself did not dare to make the attempt. "I will tell you what we will do," said Mary Bell. "We will go to another window where there are no blocks below, and throw all the shavings out from the kitchen. That will make a soft bed for us to jump upon." "Well," said Bella, "let us do that." So they went to the kitchen, and opening one of the windows, they began to gather up the shavings in their arms from off the floor, and to throw them out. They worked very industriously at this undertaking for a long time, until the kitchen floor was entirely cleared. They picked out carefully all the sticks, and blocks, and pieces of board which were mixed with the shavings, before throwing them out, in order that there might be nothing hard in the heap which they were to jump upon. When the work was completed, and all the shavings were out, they went to the window, and leaning over the sill, they looked down. "I wish we had some more shavings," said Mary Bell. "Yes," said Bella, "that is too far to jump down. We can't get out any way at all." So saying, she began to cry. "Don't cry, Bella," said Mary Bell, in a soothing tone. "It is no matter if we can't get out, for your mother knows that we came here, and if we don't come home in an hour, she will come for us and let us out." "But perhaps there is a ladder somewhere," added Mary Bell, after a short pause. "Perhaps we can find a ladder that the carpenters have left somewhere about. If there is, we can put it out the window, and then climb down upon it. Let us go and look." "Well," said Bella, "so we will." The two children accordingly set off on an exploring tour to find a ladder. Mary Bell went toward the front part of the house, and Bella into the back kitchen. They looked not only in the rooms, but also in the passage-ways and closets, and in every corner where a ladder could possibly be hid. At length, just as Mary Bell was going up the stairs, in order to look into the little attic chambers, she heard Bella calling out from the back part of the house, in a tone of voice expressive of great exultation and joy. "She has found the ladder," said Mary Bell, and leaving the stairs she went to meet her. She found Bella running through the kitchen toward the entry where Mary Bell was, calling out with great appearance of delight, "I've found the key-hole, Mary Bell! I've found the key-hole!" This was indeed true. The lock to which the key that Mary Erskine had given the children belonged, was upon the _back_ door, the principal door of the house being fastened by a bolt. Mary Bell went to the back door, and easily opened it by means of the key. Glad to discover this mode of escape from their thraldom, the children ran out, and capered about upon the back stoop in great glee. Presently they went in again and shut all the windows which they had opened, and then came out, locking the door after them, and set out on their return home. When they arrived, they found that Mary Erskine had got every thing ready for the school. CHAPTER VIII. THE SCHOOL. Good teachers and proper conveniences for study, tend very much, it is true, to facilitate the progress of pupils in all attempts for the acquisition of knowledge. But where these advantages cannot be enjoyed, it is astonishing how far a little ingenuity, and resolution, and earnestness, on the part of the pupil, will atone for the deficiency. No child need ever be deterred from undertaking any study adapted to his years and previous attainments, for want of the necessary implements or apparatus, or the requisite means of instruction. The means of supplying the want of these things are always at the command of those who are intelligent, resolute, and determined. It is only the irresolute, the incompetent, and the feeble-minded that are dependent for their progress on having a teacher to show them and to urge them onward, every step of the way. When Mary Bell and Bella returned home they found that Mary Erskine had made all the preparations necessary for the commencement of the school. She had made a desk for the two children by means of the ironing-board, which was a long and wide board, made very smooth on both sides. This board Mary Erskine placed across two chairs, having previously laid two blocks of wood upon the chairs in a line with the back side of the board, in such a manner as to raise that side and to cause the board to slope forward like a desk. She had placed two stools in front of this desk for seats. Upon this desk, at one end of it, the end, namely, at which Bella was to sit, Mary Erskine had placed a small thin board which she found in the shop, and by the side of it a piece of chalk. This small board and piece of chalk were to be used instead of a slate and pencil. At Mary Bell's end of the desk there was a piece of paper and a pen, which Mary Erskine had taken out of her work-table. By the side of the paper and pen was Bella's picture-book. This picture-book was a small but very pretty picture-book, which Mary Bell had given to Bella for a present on her birth-day, the year before. The picture-book looked, as it lay upon the desk, as if it were perfectly new. Mary Erskine had kept it very carefully in her work-table drawer, as it was the only picture-book that Bella had. She was accustomed to take it out sometimes in the evening, and show the pictures to Bella, one by one, explaining them at the same time, so far as she could guess at the story from the picture itself, for neither she herself, nor Bella, could understand a word of the reading. On these occasions Mary Erskine never allowed Bella to touch the book, but always turned over the leaves herself, and that too in a very careful manner, so as to preserve it in its original condition, smooth, fresh, and unsullied. Mary Bell and Bella looked at the desk which Mary Erskine had prepared for them, and liked it very much indeed. "But where are _you_ going to study?" asked Mary Bell. "I shall study at my work-table, but not now. I can't study until the evening. I have my work to do, all the day, and so I shall not begin my studies until the evening when you children are all gone to bed. And besides, there is only one pen." "Oh, but you will not want the pen," said Mary Bell. "You are going to learn to read." "No," said Mary Erskine. "I am going to learn to write first." "Not _first_," said Mary Bell. "We always learn to _read_, before we learn to write." "But I am going to learn to write first," said Mary Erskine. "I have been thinking about it, and I think that will be best. I have got the plan all formed. I shall want you to set me a copy, and then this evening I shall write it." "Well," said Mary Bell, "I will. The first copy must be straight marks." "No," said Mary Erskine, "the first thing is to learn to write my name. I shall never have any occasion to write straight marks, but I shall want to write my name a great many times." "Oh, but you can't _begin_ with writing your name," said Mary Bell. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "I am going to begin with _Mary_: only _Mary_. I want you to write me two copies, one with the letters all separate, and the other with the letters together. "Well," said Mary Bell, "I will." So she sat down to her desk, taking up her pen, she dipped it into the inkstand. The inkstand had been placed into the chair which Mary Bell's end of the ironing-board rested upon. It could not stand safely on the board itself as that was sloping. Mary Bell wrote the letters M--A--R--Y, in a large plain hand upon the top of the paper, and then in a same line she wrote them again, joining them together in a word. Mary Erskine stood by while she wrote, examining very attentively her method of doing the work, and especially her way of holding the pen. When the copy was finished, Mary Erskine cut it off from the top of the paper and pinned it up against the side of the room, where she could look at it and study the names of the letters in the intervals of her work during the day. "There," said she in a tone of satisfaction when this was done. "I have got my work before me. The next thing is to give Bella hers." It was decided that Bella should pursue a different method from her mother. She was to learn the letters of the alphabet in regular order, taking the first two, _a_ and _b_, for her first lesson. Mary Bell made copies of those two letters for her, with the chalk, upon the top of the board. She made these letters in the form of printed and not written characters, because the object was to teach Bella to read printed books. "Now," said Mary Erskine to Bella, "you must study _a_ and _b_ for half an hour. I shall tell you when I think the half hour is out. If you get tired of sitting at your desk, you may take your board and your chalk out to the door and sit upon the step. You must spend all the time in making the letters on the board, and you may say _a_ and _b_ while you are making the letters, but besides that you must not speak a word. For every time that you speak, except to say _a_ and _b_, after I tell you to begin, you will have to pick up a basket of chips." Picking up baskets of chips was the common punishment that Bella was subjected to for her childish misdemeanors. There was a bin in the stoop, where she used to put them, and a small basket hanging up by the side of it. The chip-yard was behind the house, and there was always an abundant supply of chips in it, from Albert's cutting. The basket, it is true, was quite small, and to fill it once with chips, was but a slight punishment; but slight punishments are always sufficient for sustaining any just and equitable government, provided they are certain to follow transgression, and are strictly and faithfully enforced. Bella was a very obedient and submissive child, though she had scarcely ever been subjected to any heavier punishment than picking up chips. "Shall I begin now?" said Bella. "No," replied her mother, "wait, if you like, till Mary Bell has taken her lesson." "I don't see how I am going to draw," said Mary Bell, "without any pencil." "You will have to draw with the pen," said Mary Erskine. "I am very sorry that I have not got any pencil for you." So saying, Mary Erskine took up the picture-book, and began turning over the leaves, to find, as she said, the picture of a house. She should think, she said, that the picture of a house would be a good thing to begin with. She found a view of a house in the third picture in the book. There was a great deal in the picture besides the house, but Mary Erskine said that the house alone should be the lesson. There was a pond near it, with a shore, and ducks and geese swimming in the water. Then there was a fence and a gate, and a boy coming through the gate, and some trees. There was one large tree with a swing hanging from one of the branches. "Now, Mary," said Mary Erskine, speaking to Mary Bell, "you may take the house alone. First you must look at it carefully, and examine all the little lines and marks, and see exactly how they are made. There is the chimney, for example. See first what the shape of the outline of it is, and look at all _those_ little lines, and _those_, and _those_," continued Mary Erskine, pointing to the different parts of the chimney. "You must examine in the same way all the other lines, in all the other parts of the picture, and see exactly how fine they are, and how near together they are, so that you can imitate them exactly. Then you must make some little dots upon your paper to mark the length and breadth of the house, so as to get it of the right shape; and then draw the lines and finish it all exactly as it is in the book." Bella looked over very attentively, while her mother was explaining these things to Mary Bell, and then said that _she_ would rather draw a house than make letters. "No," said her mother, "you must make letters." "But it is harder to make letters than it is to make a house," said Bella. "Yes," said her mother, "I think it is." "And I think," said Bella, "that the littlest scholar ought to have the easiest things to do." Mary Erskine laughed, and said that in schools, those things were not done that seemed best to the scholars, but those that seemed best to the teachers. "Then," said Mary Bell, "why must not you write marks." Mary Erskine laughed still more at this, and said she acknowledged that the children had got her penned up in a corner. "Now," said Mary Erskine, "are you ready to begin; because when you once begin, you must not speak a word till the half hour is out." "Yes," said the children, "we are ready." "Then _begin_," said Mary Erskine. The children began with great gravity and silence, each at her separate task, while Mary Erskine went on with her own regular employment. The silence continued unbroken for about five minutes, when Bella laid down her chalk in a despairing manner, saying, "O dear me! I can't make a _a_." "There's one basket of chips," said Mary Erskine. "Why I really can't," said Bella, "I have tried three times." "Two baskets of chips," said her mother. "Make two marks on the corner of your board," she continued, "and every time you speak put down another, so that we can remember how many baskets of chips you have to pick up." Bella looked rather disconsolate at receiving this direction. She knew, however, that she must obey. She was also well aware that she would certainly have to pick up as many baskets of chips as should be indicated by the line of chalk marks. She, therefore, resumed her work, inwardly resolving that she would not speak another word. All this time, Mary Bell went on with her drawing, without apparently paying any attention to the conversation between Bella and her mother. [Illustration: THE SCHOOL.] Bella went on, too, herself after this, very attentively, making the letters which had been assigned her for her lesson, and calling the names of them as she made them, but not speaking any words. At length Mary Erskine told the children that the half hour had expired, and that they were at liberty. Bella jumped up and ran away to play. Mary Bell wished to remain and finish her house. Mary Erskine went to look at it. She compared it very attentively with the original in the picture-book, and observed several places in which Mary Bell had deviated from her pattern. She did not, however, point out any of these faults to Mary Bell, but simply said that she had done her work very well indeed. She had made a very pretty house. Mary Bell said that it was not quite finished, and she wished to remain at her desk a little longer to complete it. Mary Erskine gave her leave to do so. Bella, who had gone away at first, dancing to the door, pleased to be released from her confinement, came back to see Mary Bell's picture, while her mother was examining it. She seemed very much pleased with it indeed. Then she asked her mother to look at her letters upon the board. Mary Erskine and Mary Bell both looked at them, one by one, very attentively, and compared them with the letters which Mary Bell had made for patterns, and also with specimens of the letters in the books. Bella took great interest in looking for the letters in the book, much pleased to find that she knew them wherever she saw them. Her mother, too, learned _a_ and _b_ very effectually by this examination of Bella's work. Mary Erskine selected the two best letters which Bella had made, one of each kind, and rubbed out all the rest with a cloth. She then put up the board in a conspicuous place upon a shelf, where the two good letters could be seen by all in the room. Bella was much pleased at this, and she came in from her play several times in the course of the day, to look at her letters and to call them by name. When Bella's board had thus been put up in its conspicuous position, Mary Bell sat down to finish her drawing, while Bella went out to pick up her two baskets of chips. Mary Bell worked upon her house for nearly the whole of another half hour. When it was finished she cut the part of the paper which it was drawn upon off from the rest, and ruled around it a neat margin of double black lines. She obtained a narrow strip of wood, from the shop which served her as a ruler. She said that she meant to have all her drawing lessons of the same size, and to put the same margin around them. She marked her house No. 1, writing the numbering in a small but plain hand on one corner. She wrote the initials of her, name, M.B., in the same small hand, on the opposite corner. Mary Erskine did not attempt _her_ lesson until the evening. She finished her work about the house a little after eight o'clock, and then she undressed the children and put them to bed. By this time it was nearly nine o'clock. The day had been warm and pleasant, but the nights at this season were cool, and Mary Erskine put two or three dry sticks upon the fire, before she commenced her work, partly for the warmth, and partly for the cheerfulness of the blaze. She lighted her lamp, and sat down at her work-table, with Mary Bell's copy, and her pen, ink, and paper, before her. The copy had been pinned up in sight all the day, and she had very often examined it, when passing it, in going to and fro at her work. She had thus learned the names of all the letters in the word Mary, and had made herself considerably familiar with the forms of them; so that she not only knew exactly what she had to do in writing the letters, but she felt a strong interest in doing it. She, however, made extremely awkward work in her first attempts at writing the letters. She, nevertheless, steadily persevered. She wrote the words, first in separate letters, and then afterwards in a joined hand, again and again, going down the paper. She found that she could write a little more easily, if not better, as she proceeded,--but still the work was very hard. At ten o'clock her paper was covered with what she thought were miserable scrawls, and her wrist and her fingers ached excessively. She put her work away, and prepared to go to bed. "Perhaps I shall have to give it up after all," said she. "But I will not give up till I am beaten. I will write an hour every day for six months, and then if I can not write my name so that people can read it, I will stop." The next day about an hour after breakfast Mary Erskine had another school for the children. Bella took the two next letters _c_ and _d_ for her lesson, while Mary Bell took the swing hanging from the branch of the tree in the picture-book, for the subject of her second drawing. Before beginning her work, she studied all the touches by which the drawing was made in the book, with great attention and care, in order that she might imitate them as precisely as possible. She succeeded very well indeed in this second attempt. The swing made even a prettier picture than the house. When it was finished she cut the paper out, of the same size with the other, drew a border around it, and marked it No. 2. She went on in this manner every day as long as she remained at Mary Erskine's, drawing a new picture every day. At last, when she went home, Mary Erskine put all her drawings up together, and Mary Bell carried them home to show them to her mother. This was the beginning of Mary Bell's drawing. As for Mary Erskine, her second lesson was the word _Erskine_, which she found a great deal harder to write than Mary. There was one thing, however, that pleased her in it, which was that there was one letter which she knew already, having learned it in Mary: that was the _r_. All the rest of the letters, however, were new, and she had to practice writing the word two evenings before she could write it well, without looking at the copy. She then thought that probably by that time she had forgotten _Mary_; but on trying to write that word, she was very much pleased to find that she could write it much more easily than she could before. This encouraged her, and she accordingly took Forester for her third lesson without any fear of forgetting the Mary and the Erskine. The Forester lesson proved to be a very easy one. There were only three new letters in it, and those three were very easy to write. In fine, at the end of the four days, when Mary Bell was to go home, Mary Erskine could read, write, and spell her name very respectably well. Mrs. Bell came herself for Mary when the time of her visit expired. She was very much pleased to learn how good a girl and how useful her daughter had been. She was particularly pleased with her drawings. She said that she had been very desirous to have Mary learn to draw, but that she did not know it was possible to make so good a beginning without a teacher. "Why I _had_ a teacher," said Mary Bell. "I think that Mary Erskine is a teacher; and a very good one besides." "I think so too," said Mrs. Bell. The children went out to get some wild flowers for Mary Bell to carry home, and Mrs. Bell then asked Mary if she had begun to consider what it was best for her to do. "Yes," said Mary Erskine. "I think it will be best for me to sell the farm, and the new house, and all the stock, and live here in this house with my children." Mrs. Bell did not answer, but seemed to be thinking whether this would be the best plan or not. "The children cannot go to school from here," said Mrs. Bell. "No," said Mary Erskine, "but I can teach them myself, I think, till they are old enough to walk to the school-house. I find that I can learn the letters faster than Bella can, and that without interfering with my work; and Mary Bell will come out here now and then and tell us what we don't know." "Yes," said Mrs. Bell, "I shall be glad to have her come as often as you wish. But it seems to me that you had better move into the village. Half the money that the farm and the stock will sell for, will buy you a very pleasant house in the village, and the interest on the other half, together with what you can earn, will support you comfortably." "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "but then I should be growing poorer, rather than richer, all the time; and when my children grow large, and I want the money for them, I shall find that I have spent it all. Now if I stay here in this house, I shall have no rent to pay, nor shall I lose the interest of a part of my money, as I should if I were to buy a house in the village with it to live in myself. I can earn enough here too by knitting, and by spinning and weaving, for all that we shall want while the children are young. I can keep a little land with this house, and let Thomas, or some other such boy live with me, and raise such things as we want to eat; and so I think I can get along very well, and put out all the money which I get from the farm and the stock, at interest. In ten or fifteen years it will be two thousand dollars. Then I shall be rich, and can move into the village without any danger. "Not two thousand dollars!" said Mrs. Bell. "Yes," said Mary Erskine, "if I have calculated it right." "Why, how much do you think the farm and stock will sell for?" asked Mrs. Bell. "About eight hundred dollars," said Mary Erskine. "That put out at interest will double in about twelve years." "Very well," rejoined Mrs. Bell, "but that makes only sixteen hundred dollars." "But then I think that I can lay up half a dollar a week of my own earnings, especially when Bella gets a little bigger so as to help me about the house," said Mary Erskine. "Well;" said Mrs. Bell. "That," continued Mary Erskine, "will be twenty-five dollars a year. Which will be at least three hundred dollars in twelve years." "Very well," said Mrs. Bell, "that makes nineteen hundred." "Then," continued Mary Erskine, "I thought that at the end of the twelve years I should be able to sell this house and the land around it for a hundred dollars, especially if I take good care of the buildings in the mean while." "And that makes your two thousand dollars," said Mrs. Bell. "Yes," replied Mary Erskine. "But suppose you are sick." "Oh, if I am sick, or if I die," rejoined Mary Erskine, "of course that breaks up all my plans. I know I can't plan against calamities." "Well," said Mrs. Bell, rising from her seat with a smile of satisfaction upon her countenance, "I can't advise you. But if ever I get into any serious trouble, I shall come to you to advise me." So bidding Mary Erskine good-bye, Mrs. Bell called her daughter, and they went together toward their home. CHAPTER IX. GOOD MANAGEMENT. Whenever any person dies, leaving property to be divided among his heirs, and not leaving any valid will to determine the mode of division, the property as has already been said, must be divided on certain principles, established by the law of the land, and under the direction of the Judge of Probate, who has jurisdiction over the county in which the property is situated. The Judge of Probate appoints a person to take charge of the property and divide it among the heirs. This person is called the administrator, or, if a woman, the administratrix. The Judge gives the administrator or the administratrix a paper, which authorises him or her to take charge of the property, which paper is called, "Letters of Administration." The letters of administration are usually granted to the wife of the deceased, or to his oldest son, or, if there is no wife or son, to the nearest heir who is of proper age and discretion to manage the trust. The person who receives administration is obliged to take a solemn oath before the Judge of Probate, that he will report to the Judge a full account of all the property that belonged to the deceased which shall come to his knowledge. The Judge also appoints three persons to go and examine the property, and make an inventory of it, and appraise every article, so as to know as nearly as possible, how much and what property there is. These persons are called appraisers. The inventory which they make out is lodged in the office of the Judge of Probate, where any person who has an interest in the estate can see it at any time. The administrator usually keeps a copy of the inventory besides. If among the property left by a person deceased, which is to go in part to children, there are any houses and lands,--a kind of property which is called in law _real estate_, to distinguish it from moveable property, which is called _personal estate_,--such real estate cannot be sold, in ordinary cases, by the administrator, without leave from the Judge of Probate. This leave the Judge of Probate will give in cases where it is clearly best for the children that the property should be so sold and the _avails of it_ kept for them, rather than the property itself. All these things Mrs. Bell explained to Mary Erskine, having learned about them herself some years before when her own husband died. Accordingly, a few weeks after Albert died, Mary Erskine went one day in a wagon, taking the baby with her, and Thomas to drive, to the county town, where the Probate court was held. [Illustration: GOING TO COURT.] At the Probate court, Mary Erskine made all the arrangements necessary in respect to the estate. She had to go twice, in fact, before all these arrangements were completed. She expected to have a great deal of trouble and embarrassment in doing this business, but she did not find that there was any trouble at all. The Judge of Probate told her exactly what to do. She was required to sign her name once or twice to papers. This she did with great trepidation, and after writing her name, on the first occasion which occurred requiring her signature, she apologized for not being able to write any better. The Judge of Probate said that very few of the papers that he received were signed so well. Mary Erskine was appointed administratrix, and the Judge gave her a paper which he said was her "Letters of Administration." What the Judge gave to her seemed to be only one paper, but she thought it probable, as the Judge said "Letters" that there was another inside. When she got home, however, and opened the paper she found that there was only one. She could not read it herself, her studies having yet extended no farther than to the writing of her name. The first time, however, that Mary Bell came to see her, after she received this document, she asked Mary Bell to read it to her. Mary Bell did so, but after she had got through, Mary Erskine said that she could not understand one word of it from beginning to end. Mary Bell said that that was not strange, for she believed that lawyers' papers were only meant for lawyers to understand. The appraisers came about this time to make an inventory of the property. They went all over the house and barns, and took a complete account of every thing that they found. They made a list of all the oxen, sheep, cows, horses, and other animals, putting down opposite to each one, their estimate of its value. They did the same with the vehicles, and farming implements, and utensils, and also with all the household furniture, and the provisions and stores. When they had completed the appraisement they added up the amount, and found that the total was a little over four hundred dollars, Mary Erskine was very much surprised to find that there was so much. The appraisers then told Mary Erskine that half of that property was hers, and the other half belonged to the children; and that as much of their half as was necessary for their support could be used for that purpose, and the rest must be paid over to them when they became of age. They said also that she or some one else must be appointed their guardian, to take care of their part of the property; and that the guardian could either keep the property as it was, or sell it and keep the money as she thought would be most for the interest of the children; and that she had the same power in respect to her own share. Mary Erskine said that she thought it would be best for her to sell the stock and farming tools, because she could not take care of them nor use them, and she might put the money out at interest. The appraisers said they thought so too. In the end, Mary Erskine was appointed guardian. The idea appeared strange to her at first of being _appointed_ guardian to her own children, as it seemed to her that a mother naturally and necessarily held that relation to her offspring. But the meaning of the law, in making a mother the guardian of her children by appointment in such a case as this, is simply to authorize her to take care of _property_ left to them, or descending to them. It is obvious that cases must frequently occur in which a mother, though the natural guardian of her children so far as the personal care of them is concerned, would not be properly qualified to take charge of any considerable amount of property coming to them. When the mother is qualified to take this charge, she can be duly authorized to do it; and this is the appointment to the guardianship--meaning the guardianship of the property to which the appointment refers. Mary Erskine was accordingly appointed guardian of the children, and she obtained leave to sell the farm. She decided that it would be best to sell it as she thought, after making diligent enquiry, that she could not depend on receiving any considerable annual rent for it, if she were to attempt to let it. She accordingly sold the farm, with the new house, and all the stock,--excepting that she reserved from the farm ten acres of land around her own house, and one cow, one horse, two pigs, and all the poultry. She also reserved all the household furniture. These things she took as a part of her portion. The purchase money for all the rest amounted to nine hundred and fifty dollars. This sum was considerably more than Mary Erskine had expected to receive. The question now was what should be done with this money. There are various modes which are adopted for investing such sums so as to get an annual income from them. The money may be lent to some person who will take it and pay interest for it. A house may be bought and let to some one who wishes to hire it; or shares in a rail-road, or a bank, or a bridge, may be taken. Such kinds of property as those are managed by directors, who take care of all the profits that are made, and twice a year divide the money among the persons that own the shares. Mary Erskine had a great deal of time for enquiry and reflection in respect to the proper mode of investing her money, for the man who purchased the farm and the stock was not to pay the money immediately. The price agreed upon for the farm, including of course the new house, was five hundred dollars. The stock, farming utensils, &c, which he took with it, came to three hundred and sixty dollars. The purchaser was to pay, of this money, four hundred dollars in three months, and the balance in six months. Mary Erskine, therefore, had to make provision for investing the four hundred dollars first. She determined, after a great deal of consideration and inquiry, to lay out this money in buying four shares in the Franconia bridge. These shares were originally one hundred dollars each, but the bridge had become so profitable on account of the number of persons that passed it, and the amount of money which was consequently collected for tolls, that the shares would sell for a hundred and ten dollars each. This ten dollars advance over the original price of the shares, is called _premium_. Upon the four shares which Mary Erskine was going to buy, the premium would be of course forty dollars. This money Mary Erskine concluded to borrow. Mr. Keep said that he would very gladly lend it to her. Her plan was to pay the borrowed money back out of the dividends which she would receive from her bridge shares. The dividend was usually five per centum, or, as they commonly called it, _five per cent._, that is, five dollars on every share of a hundred dollars every six months.[A] The dividend on the four shares would, of course, be twenty dollars, so that it would take two dividends to pay off the forty dollar debt to Mr. Keep, besides a little interest. When this was done, Mary Erskine would have property in the bridge worth four hundred and forty dollars, without having used any more than four hundred dollars of her farm money, and she would continue to have forty dollars a year from it, as long as she kept it in her possession. [Footnote A: _Per_ is a Latin word meaning _for_, and _centum_ another meaning _a hundred_.] When the rest of the money for the farm was paid, Mary Erskine resolved on purchasing a certain small, but very pleasant house with it. This house was in the village, and she found on inquiry, that it could be let to a family for fifty dollars a year. It is true that a part of this fifty dollars would have to be expended every year in making repairs upon the house, so as to keep it in good order; such as painting it from time to time, and renewing the roof when the shingles began to decay, and other similar things. But, then, Mary Erskine found, on making a careful examination, that after expending as much of the money which she should receive for the rent of her house, as should be necessary for the repairs, she should still have rather more than she would receive from the money to be invested, if it was put out at interest by lending it to some person who wanted to borrow it. So she decided to buy the house in preference to adopting any other plan. It happened that the house which Mary Erskine thus determined to buy, was the very one that Mr. Gordon lived in. The owner of the house wished to sell it, and offered it first to Mr. Gordon; but he said that he was not able to buy it. He had been doing very well in his business, but his expenses were so great, he said, that he had not any ready money at command. He was very sorry, he added, that the owner wished to sell the house, for whoever should buy it, would want to come and live in it, he supposed, and he should be obliged to move away. The owner said that he was sorry, but that he could not help it. A few days after this, Mr. Gordon came home one evening, and told Anne Sophia, with a countenance expressive of great surprise and some little vexation, that her old friend, Mrs. Forester, had bought their house, and was going to move into it. Anne Sophia was amazed at this intelligence, and both she and her husband were thrown into a state of great perplexity and trouble. The next morning Anne Sophia went out to see Mary Erskine about it. Mary Erskine received her in a very kind and cordial manner. "I am very glad to see you," said Mary Erskine. "I was coming to your house myself in a day or two, about some business, if you had not come here." "Yes," said Anne Sophia. "I understand that you have been buying our house away from over our heads, and are going to turn us out of house and home." "Oh, no," said Mary Erskine, smiling, "not at all. In the first place, I have not really bought the house yet, but am only talking about it; and in the second place, if I buy it, I shall not want it myself, but shall wish to have you live in it just as you have done." "You will not want it yourself!" exclaimed Anne Sophia, astonished. "No," said Mary Erskine, "I am only going to buy it as an investment." There were so many things to be astonished at in this statement, that Anne Sophia hardly knew where to begin with her wonder. First, she was surprised to learn that Mary Erskine had so much money. When she heard that she had bought the house, she supposed of course that she had bought it on credit, for the sake of having a house in the village to live in. Then she was amazed at the idea of any person continuing to live in a log house in the woods, when she had a pretty house of her own in the middle of the village. She could not for some time be satisfied that Mary Erskine was in earnest in what she said. But when she found that it was really so, she went away greatly relieved. Mary Erskine told her that she had postponed giving her final answer about buying the house, in order first to see Mr. Gordon, to know whether he had any objection to the change of ownership. She knew, of course, that Mr. Gordon would have no right to object, but she rightly supposed that he would be gratified at having her ask him the question. Mary Erskine went on after this for two or three years very prosperously in all her affairs. Thomas continued to live with her, in her log-house, and to cultivate the land which she had retained. In the fall and winter, when there was nothing to be done in the fields or garden, he was accustomed to work in the shop, making improvements for the house, such as finishing off the stoop into another room, to be used for a kitchen, making new windows to the house, and a regular front door, and in preparing fences and gates to be put up around the house. He made an aqueduct, too, to conduct the water from a new spring which he discovered at a place higher than the house, and so brought a constant stream of water into the kitchen which he had made in the stoop. The stumps, too, in the fields around the house, gradually decayed, so that Thomas could root them out and smooth over the ground where they had stood. Mary Erskine's ten acres thus became very smooth and beautiful. It was divided by fences into very pleasant fields, with green lanes shaded by trees, leading from one place to another. The brook flowed through this land along a very beautiful valley, and there were groves and thickets here and there, both along the margin of the brook, and in the corners of the fields, which gave to the grounds a very sheltered, as well as a very picturesque expression. Mary Erskine also caused trees and shrubbery to be planted near the house, and trained honey-suckles and wild roses upon a trellis over the front door. All these improvements were made in a very plain and simple manner, and at very little expense, and yet there was so much taste exercised in the arrangement of them all, that the effect was very agreeable in the end. The house and all about it formed, in time, an enchanting picture of rural beauty.[A] [Footnote A: See Frontispiece.] It was, however, only a few occasional hours of recreation that Mary Erskine devoted to ornamenting her dwelling. The main portion of her time and attention was devoted to such industrial pursuits as were most available in bringing in the means of support for herself and her children, so as to leave untouched the income from her house and her bridge shares. This income, as fast as it was paid in, she deposited with Mr. Keep, to be lent out on interest, until a sufficient sum was thus accumulated to make a new investment of a permanent character. When the sum at length amounted to two hundred and twenty dollars, she bought two more bridge shares with it, and from that time forward she received dividends on six shares instead of four; that is, she received thirty dollars every six months, instead of twenty, as before. One reason why Mary Erskine invested her money in a house and in a bridge, instead of lending it out at interest, was that by so doing, her property was before her in a visible form, and she could take a constant pleasure in seeing it. Whenever she went to the village she enjoyed seeing her house, which she kept in a complete state of repair, and which she had ornamented with shrubbery and trees, so that it was a very agreeable object to look upon of itself, independently of the pleasure of ownership. In the same manner she liked to see the bridge, and think when teams and people were passing over it, that a part of all the toll which they paid, would, in the end, come to her. She thus took the same kind of pleasure in having purchased a house, and shares in a bridge, that any lady in a city would take in an expensive new carpet, or a rosewood piano, which would cost about the same sum; and then she had all the profit, in the shape of the annual income, besides. There was one great advantage too which Mary Erskine derived from owning this property, which, though she did not think of it at all when she commenced her prudent and economical course, at the time of her marriage, proved in the end to be of inestimable value to her. This advantage was the high degree of respectability which it gave her in the public estimation. The people of the village gradually found out how she managed, and how fast her property was increasing, and they entertained for her a great deal of that kind of respect which worldly prosperity always commands. The store-keepers were anxious to have her custom. Those who had money to lend were always very ready to let her have it, if at any time she wished to make up a sum for a new investment: and all the ladies of the village were willing that their daughters should go out to her little farm to visit Bella, and to have Bella visit them in return. Thus Mary Erskine found that she was becoming quite an important personage. Her plan of teaching herself and her children succeeded perfectly. By the time that she had thoroughly learned to write her own name, she knew half of the letters of the alphabet, for her name contained nearly that number. She next learned to write her children's names, Bella Forester and Albert Forester. After that, she learned to write the names of all the months, and to read them when she had written them. She chose the names of the months, next after the names of her own family, so that she might be able to date her letters if she should ever have occasion to write any. Mary Bell set copies for her, when she came out to see her, and Mary Erskine went on so much faster than Bella, that she could teach her very well. She required Bella to spend an hour at her studies every day. Thomas made a little desk for her, and her mother bought her a slate and a pencil, and in process of time an arithmetic, and other books. As soon as Mary Erskine could read fluently, Mary Bell used to bring out books to her, containing entertaining stories. At first Mary Bell would read these stories to her once, while she was at her work, and then Mary Erskine, having heard Mary Bell read them, could read them herself in the evening without much difficulty. At length she made such progress that she could read the stories herself alone, the first time, with very little trouble. Thus things went on in a very pleasant and prosperous manner, and this was the condition of Mary Erskine and of her affairs, at the time when Malleville and Phonny went to pay her their visit, as described in the first chapter of this volume. CHAPTER X. THE VISIT TO MARY ERSKINE'S. Malleville and Phonny arrived at Mary Erskine's about an hour after Beechnut left them. They met with no special adventures by the way, except that when they reached the great pine-tree, Phonny proposed to climb up, for the purpose of examining a small bunch which he saw upon one of the branches, which he thought was a bird's nest. It was the same pine-tree that marked the place at which a road branched off into the woods, where Mary Bell had lost her way, several years before. Malleville was very unwilling to have Phonny climb up upon such a high tree, but Phonny himself was very desirous to make the attempt. There was a log fence at the foot of the tree, and the distance was not very great from the uppermost log of the fence, to the lowermost branch of the tree. So Phonny thought that he could get up without any difficulty. Malleville was afraid to have him try, and she said that if he did, he would be acting just as foolish as the boy that Beechnut had told them about, who nipped his own nose; and that she should not stop to see him do any such foolishness. So she walked along as fast as she could go. Phonny unfortunately was rendered only the more determined to climb the tree by Malleville's opposition. He accordingly mounted up to the top of the fence, and thence reaching the lower branches of the tree he succeeded at length, by dint of much scrambling and struggling, in lifting himself up among them. He climbed out to the limb where he had seen the appearances of a bird's nest, but found to his disappointment that there was no bird's nest there. The bunch was only a little tuft of twigs growing out together. Phonny then began to shout out for Malleville to wait for him. "Mal--le--ville! Mal--le--ville!" said he. "Wait a minute for me. I am coming down." He did not like to be left there all alone, in the gloomy and solitary forest. So he made all the haste possible in descending. There are a great many accidents which may befall a boy in coming down a tree. The one which Phonny was fated to incur in this instance, was to catch his trowsers near the knee, in a small sharp twig which projected from a branch, and tear them. When he reached the ground he looked at the rent in dismay. He was generally nice and particular about his clothes, and he was very unwilling to go to Mary Erskine's, and let her and Bella see him in such a plight. He was equally unwilling to go home again, and to lose his visit. "Provoking!" said he. "That comes from Malleville's hurrying me so. It is all her fault." Then starting off suddenly, he began to run, shouting out, "Malleville! Malleville!" At length, when he got pretty near her, he called out for her to stop and see what she had made him do. "Did I make you do that?" said Malleville, looking at the rent, while Phonny stood with his foot extended, and pointing at it with his finger. "Yes," said Phonny,--"because you hurried me." "Well, I'm sorry;" said Malleville, looking very much concerned. Phonny was put quite to a nonplus by this unexpected answer. He had expected to hear Malleville deny that it was her fault that he had torn his clothes, and was prepared to insist strenuously that it was; but this unlooked-for gentleness seemed to leave him not a word to say. So he walked along by the side of Malleville in silence. "Was it a pretty bird's-nest?" said Malleville in a conciliatory tone, after a moment's pause. "No," said Phonny. "It was not any bird's nest at all." When the children reached the farm as they called it, Mary Erskine seated Phonny on the bed, and then drawing up her chair near to him, she took his foot in her lap and mended the rent so neatly that there was afterwards no sign of it to be seen. Little Albert was at this time about three years old, and Bella was seven. Phonny, while Mary Erskine was mending his clothes, asked where the children were. Mary Erskine said that they had gone out into the fields with Thomas, to make hay. So Phonny and Malleville, after getting proper directions in respect to the way that they were to go, set off in pursuit of them. They went out at a back-door which led to a beautiful walk under a long trellis, which was covered with honey-suckles and roses. Malleville stopped to get a rose, and Phonny to admire two humming-birds that were playing about the honey-suckles. He wished very much that he could catch one of them, but he could not even get near them. From the end of the trellis's walk the children entered a garden, and at the back side of the garden they went through a narrow place between two posts into a field. They walked along the side of this field, by a very pleasant path with high green grass and flowers on one side, and a wall with a great many raspberry bushes growing by it, and now and then little thickets of trees, on the other. The bushes and trees made the walk that they were going in very cool and shady. There were plenty of raspberries upon the bushes, but they were not yet ripe. Phonny said that when the raspberries were ripe he meant to come out to Mary Erskine's again and get some. Presently the children turned a sort of a corner which was formed by a group of trees, and then they came in sight of the hay-making party. "Oh, they have got the horse and cart," said Phonny. So saying he set off as fast he could run, toward the hay-makers, Malleville following him. The horse and cart were standing in the middle of the field among the numerous winrows of hay. The two children of Mrs. Forester, Bella and Albert, were in the cart, treading down the hay as fast as Thomas pitched it up. As soon as Phonny and Malleville reached the place, Malleville stood still with her hands behind her, looking at the scene with great interest and pleasure. Phonny wanted to know if Thomas had not got another pitch-fork, so that he might help him pitch up the hay. Thomas said, no. He, however, told Phonny that he might get into the cart if he pleased, and drive the horse along when it was time to go to a new place. Phonny was extremely pleased with this plan. He climbed into the cart, Bella helping him up by a prodigious lift which she gave him, seizing him by the shoulder as he came up. Malleville was afraid to get into the cart at all, but preferred walking along the field and playing among the winrows. Phonny drove along from place to place as Thomas directed him, until at length the cart was so full that it was no longer safe for the children to remain upon the top. They then slid down the hay to the ground, Thomas receiving them so as to prevent any violent fall. Thomas then forked up as much more hay as he could make stay upon the top of his load, and when this was done, he set out to go to the barn. The children accompanied him, walking behind the cart. When the party reached the barn, the children went inside to a place which Phonny called the bay. Thomas drove his cart up near the side of the barn without, and began to pitch the hay in through a great square window, quite high up. The window opened into the bay, so that the hay, when Thomas pitched it in, fell down into the place where the children were standing. They jumped upon it, when it came down, with great glee. As every new forkful which Thomas pitched in came without any warning except the momentary darkening of the window, it sometimes fell upon the children's heads and half buried them, each new accident of this kind awakening, as it occurred, loud and long continued bursts of laughter. After getting in two or three loads of hay in this manner, dinner time came, and the whole party went in to dinner. They found when they entered the house that Mary Erskine had been frying nut-cakes and apple-turnovers for them. There was a large earthen pan full of such things, and there were more over the fire. There were also around the table four bowls full of very rich looking milk, with a spoon in each bowl, and a large supply of bread, cut into very small pieces, upon a plate near the bowls. The children were all hungry and thirsty, and they gathered around the table to eat the excellent dinner which Mary Erskine had provided for them, with an air of great eagerness and delight. After their dinner was over, Mary Erskine said that they might go out and play for half an hour, and that then she would go with them into the fields, and see if they could not find some strawberries. Accordingly, when the time arrived, they all assembled at the door, and Mary Erskine came out, bringing mugs and baskets to put the strawberries in. There were four mugs made, of tin; such as were there called _dippers_. There were two pretty large baskets besides, both covered. Mary Erskine gave to each of the children a dipper, and carried the baskets herself. She seemed to carry them very carefully, and they appeared to be heavy, as if there might be something inside. Phonny wanted very much to know what there was in those baskets. Mary Erskine said he must guess. "Some cake," said Phonny. "Guess again," said Mary Erskine. "Apples," said Phonny. "Guess again," said Mary Erskine. "Why, have not I guessed right yet?" asked Phonny. "I can't tell you," replied Mary Erskine. "Only you may guess as much as you please." Phonny of course gave up guessing, since he was not to be told whether he guessed right or not; though he said he was sure that it was cake, or else, perhaps, some of the turn-overs. The party walked along by very pleasant paths until they came to a field by the side of the brook. There were trees along the banks of the brook, under which, and near the water, there were a great many cool and shady places that were very pleasant. Mary Erskine led the way down to one of these where there was a large flat stone near the water. She hid her two baskets in the bushes, and then directed the children to go up into the field with her and get the strawberries. The strawberries were not only very abundant, but also very large and ripe. Mary Erskine said that they might all eat ten, but no more. All that they got, except ten, they must put into their dippers, until the dippers were full. She herself went busily at work, finding strawberries and putting them into the dippers of the children, sometimes into one and sometimes into another. In a short time the dippers were full. The whole party then went back to the brook and sat down upon the great flat stone, with their dippers before them. Mary Erskine then brought out one of her baskets, and lifting up the cover, she took out five saucers and five spoons. "There," said she, "I brought you some saucers and spoons to eat your strawberries with. Now take up the bunches from your dippers, and pull off the strawberries from the stems, and put them in the saucers." While the children were all busily engaged in doing this, Mary Erskine opened the other basket, and took out a pitcher of very rich looking cream. The sight of this treasure of course awakened in all the party the utmost enthusiasm and delight. They went on hulling their strawberries very industriously, and were soon ready, one after another, to have the cream poured over them, which Mary Erskine proceeded to do, giving to each one of the children a very abundant supply. [Illustration: THE STRAWBERRY PARTY.] Phonny finished his strawberries first, and then went to the margin of the brook to look into the water, in order, as he said, "to see if he could see any fishes." He did see several, and became greatly excited in consequence, calling eagerly upon the rest of the party to come down and look. He said that he wished very much that he had a fishing-line. Mary Erskine said that Thomas had a fishing-line, which he would lend him, she had no doubt; and away Phonny went, accordingly, to find Thomas and to get the line. This procedure was not quite right on Phonny's part. It is not right to abandon one's party under such circumstances as these, for the sake of some new pleasure accidentally coming into view, which the whole party cannot share. Besides, Phonny left his dipper for Mary Erskine or Malleville to carry up, instead of taking care of it himself. Mary Erskine, however, said that this was of no consequence, as she could carry it just as well as not. Mary Erskine and the three remaining children, then went back to the house, where Bella and Malleville amused themselves for half an hour in building houses with the blocks in Thomas's shop, when all at once Malleville was surprised to see Beechnut coming in. Beechnut, was returning from the mill, and as the children had had to walk nearly all the way to Mary Erskine's, he thought it very probable that they would be too tired to walk back again. So he had left his horse and wagon at the corner, and had walked out to the farm to take the children home with him, if they were ready to go. "I am not _ready_ to go," said Malleville, after having heard this story, but I _will_ go for the sake of the ride. I am too tired to walk all the way. But Phonny is not here. He has gone a-fishing." "Where has he gone?" said Beechnut. "Down to the brook," replied Malleville. "I will go and find him," said Beechnut. So saying, Beechnut left the shop, went out into the yard, and began to walk down the path which led toward the brook. Very soon he saw Phonny coming out from among the bushes with his pole over his shoulder, and walking along with quite a disconsolate air. Beechnut sat down upon a log by the side of the road, to wait for him. "Did you catch any fishes?" said Beechnut, as Phonny approached him. "No," said Phonny, despondingly. "I am glad of that," said Beechnut. "Glad!" said Phonny, looking up surprised, and somewhat displeased. "What are you glad for?" "For the sake of the fishes," said Beechnut. "Hoh!" said Phonny. "And the other day, when I did catch some, you said you were glad of that." "Yes," said Beechnut, "then I was glad for your sake. There is always a chance to be glad for some sake or other, happen what may." This, though very good philosophy, did not appear to be just at that time at all satisfactory to Phonny. "I have had nothing but ill-luck all this afternoon," said Phonny, in a pettish tone. "That great ugly black horse of Thomas's trod on my foot." "Did he?" said Beechnut; his countenance brightening up at the same time, as if Phonny had told him some good news. "Yes," said Phonny, "Thomas came along near where I was fishing, and I laid down my fishing-line, and went up to the horse, and was standing by his head, and he trod on my foot dreadfully." "Did he?" said Beechnut, "I am very glad of that." "Glad of that!" repeated Phonny. "I don't see whose sake you can be glad of that for. I am sure it did not do the horse any good." "I am glad of that for your sake," said Beechnut. "There never was a boy that grew up to be a man, that did not have his foot trod upon at some time or other by a horse. There is no other possible way for them to learn that when a horse takes up his foot, he will put it down again wherever it happens, and if a boy's foot is under it, it will get trod upon. There is no possible way for boys to learn that but by experiencing it. The only difference is, that some boys take the treading light, and others get it heavy. You have got it light. So if you have only learned the lesson, you have learned it very easily, and so I am glad." "No, it was not light," said Phonny. "It was very heavy. What makes you think it was light?" "By your walking," replied Beechnut. "I have known some boys that when they took their lesson in keeping out of the way of horses' forefeet, could not stand for a week after it. You have had most excellent luck, you may depend." By the time that Beechnut and Phonny reached the house, Malleville had put on her bonnet and was ready to go. Mary Erskine said that she would go with them a little way. Bella and Albert then wanted to go too. Their mother said that she had no objection, and so they all went along together. "Did you know that we were going to have a new road?" said Mary Erskine to Beechnut. "Are you?" asked Phonny eagerly. "Yes," said Mary Erskine. "They have laid out a new road to the corner, and are going to make it very soon. It will be a very good wagon road, and when it is made you can ride all the way. But then it will not be done in time for my raspberry party." "Your raspberry party?" repeated Phonny, "what is that?' "Did not I tell you about it? I am going to invite you and all the children in the village that I know, to come here some day when the raspberries are ripe, and have a raspberry party,--like the strawberry party that we had to-day. There are a great many raspberries on my place." "I'm _very_ glad," said Malleville. "When are you going to invite us?" "Oh, in a week or two," said Mary Erskine. "But then the new road will not be done until the fall. They have just begun it. We can hear them working upon it in one place, pretty soon." The party soon came to the place which Mary Erskine had referred to. It was a point where the new road came near the line of the old one, and a party of men and oxen were at work, making a causeway, across a low wet place. As the children passed along, they could hear the sound of axes and the voices of men shouting to oxen. Phonny wished very much to go and see. So Mary Erskine led the way through the woods a short distance, till they came in sight of the men at work. They were engaged in felling trees, pulling out rocks and old logs which were sunken in the mire, by means of oxen and chains, and in other similar works, making all the time loud and continual vociferations, which resounded and echoed through the forest in a very impressive manner. What interested Phonny most in these operations, was to see how patiently the oxen bore being driven about in the deep mire, and the prodigious strength which they exerted in pulling out the logs. One of the workmen would take a strong iron chain, and while two others would pry up the end of a log with crow-bars or levers, he would pass the chain under the end so raised, and then hook it together above. Another man would then back up a pair of oxen to the place, and sometimes two pairs, in order that they might be hooked to the chain which passed around the log. When all was ready, the oxen were started forward, and though they went very slowly, step by step, yet they exerted such prodigious strength as to tear the log out of its bed, and drag it off, roots, branches, and all, entirely out of the way. Monstrous rocks were lifted up and dragged out of the line of the road in much the same manner. After looking at this scene for some time, the party returned to the old road again, and there Mary Erskine said that she would bid her visitors good-bye, and telling them that she would not forget to invite them to her raspberry party, she took leave of them and went back toward her own home. "If all the children of the village that Mary Erskine knows, are invited to that party," said Phonny, "what a great raspberry party it will be!" "Yes," said Beechnut, "it will be a raspberry _jam_." THE END. 
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18432	----	FOWLER'S HOUSEHOLD HELPS Over 300 Useful and Valuable Helps About the Home, Carefully Compiled and Arranged in Convenient Form for Frequent Use With Complete Index Published by Household Publishing Company 132 Jay St., Albany, N. Y. To the many efficient and up-to-date housekeepers of our land this book is respectfully dedicated, in the hope that they may find something herein to further increase their efficiency. While the author does not guarantee the reliability of these household helps, they have been carefully compiled from reliable sources and are believed to be efficient if directions are carefully followed. Copyright, 1916 By A. L. Fowler IMPORTANT NOTICE This book is fully protected by copyright and any infringement thereof will be duly prosecuted. Extra copies may be obtained at 10c each, postpaid, from the Household Publishing Co., 132 Jay Street, Albany, N. Y. HOUSEHOLD HELPS THE CARE AND USE OF GAS APPLIANCES CARE OF GAS RANGES In order to get satisfactory and economical service and a long life, any range or mechanical device must be kept clean. This applies to the gas range as well, and we therefore wish to emphasize that the little attention required is very much worth while. Clean the top, the ovens and removable drip pan frequently. Clean broiler griddle and pan _every_ time it is used. If any burner holes become clogged, clean them out with a piece of wire or a hairpin. Keep the air inlets on the shutter at the front of the burners near the levers clear of dust. The suction at this point draws the dust, which, if allowed to accumulate, will cause the flame to burn yellow or red instead of blue. More ranges rust out than wear out. To keep the range free from rust rub it very frequently with a cloth slightly oiled with any kind of oil or grease, except kerosene or one containing salt; we suggest the use of olive oil or one of its cheaper substitutes. This is done to the best advantage while the range is warm. When the burners become greasy, remove and wash them thoroughly in soap and hot water. Never black the burners or top grates. The broiler pan and rack should be kept out of the range when oven is being used or it will rust, warp or chip. It requires the same care any kitchen enamel ware does. Always leave oven and broiler doors open for a few minutes after lighting the oven burners and after extinguishing them. This will dry the inside of the range and prevent rusting. USE OF THE RANGE With reasonable care gas is much cheaper for household cooking than any other fuel. Every range should be equipped with a top burner lighter which is convenient and economical, as it is just as easy to light a burner as to leave it burning. Never turn on the gas until you are ready to use it. Turn off the gas as soon as you are through with it. Turn down the gas as low as possible to give the required heat. Remember that water boiling rapidly is no hotter than water boiling slowly. Always open oven door before lighting oven burners. Plan your cooking so as to use both broiler and oven at once. The same burners heat both. While a roast is in the broiler, bake the cookies, bread, apples or pudding in the oven. When the latter are done, use the oven to cook vegetables or bake biscuits. To boil foods in the oven, utensils should be set directly on the bottom of the oven. By following this plan both the time required to cook the meal and your fuel expense will be reduced to a minimum. BROILING AND ROASTING Broiling and roasting are the same form of cooking, the former term being applied to thinner and the latter to thicker foodstuffs. They consist of cooking at very high temperatures, obtained only by exposure to the direct flame. It must be done in the broiler, which should be lighted ten minutes before cooking commences. Always leave broiler door open and put a little cold water in the bottom of the broiler pan to prevent the food from burning. Place the food to be cooked on the cold rack in the broiling pan. STEAKS AND CHOPS Place the meat about two inches from the fire until well seared. Turn over and sear other side in the same way, thus preventing the escape of the juice. Then lower the pan and turn down the gas until the meat is done to taste. For steak allow about 10 minutes if one inch thick, 15 minutes if one and one-half inches thick. For chops allow 8 minutes. Cooking may be done faster, but proper tenderness of meats can only be had at the slower rates. FISH Place fish on the rack, skin side down, and do not turn. Place rack in lower part of oven. Baste liberally and turn down gas when the fish begins to brown. Allow 20 to 30 minutes. OTHER FOODS Chicken, bacon, liver, ham, tripe, and vegetables, such as tomatoes, peppers, Spanish onions, can also be broiled to perfection in a manner similar to above. ROAST MEATS Roast meats should be treated the same as steaks and chops, except that after the meat is seared the cooking should be done more slowly, which will, of course, take more time. This part of the cooking can be done with the broiler door closed, or can be done in the upper or baking oven. Allow about 20 minutes to the pound for a roast. BAKING Baking is cooking at moderate temperatures in a range oven. The oven should be lighted from 5 to 10 minutes (depending upon the food to be cooked) before the food is put in. BREAD Heat the oven about 5 minutes before using, and bake from 45 to 50 minutes on the lower rack. Bread should be baked in a hot oven, should continue to rise about 15 minutes, brown for 20 minutes longer, and bake 15 minutes longer with a reduced flame. BISCUITS Heat oven for 10 minutes. Put biscuits in oven and bake for 5 minutes with full heat, then turn gas off completely and bake 5 minutes longer. LOAF CAKE Heat oven 5 minutes. Place the cake on the rack about 3 inches from bottom of oven. Turn gas half on for about 30 minutes when the cake should have fully risen. Increase heat enough to make the top brown and crisp. LAYER CAKE Layer cake should be placed in a hotter oven than loaf cake. Heat oven 10 minutes. Place cake on rack in center of oven and turn out the gas for 10 minutes. Relight both burners turned half down for 12 or 15 minutes. If not sufficiently browned increase the heat at the last. BOILING Boiling is cooking in water at a temperature of 212 degrees. This is done on the open burners on top of the range. There are three sizes of burners: the giant, the ordinary and the simmerer. In bringing water to boil quickly use the giant burner, then continue boiling on the simmerer or one of the ordinary burners turned low. Do not waste gas by boiling hard. Use covers on kettles. Green vegetables when boiling retain their color better if the lid is left off the pot. STEWING Stewing is cooking in a small amount of water for a long time at simmering temperature. It is the most economical way of cooking the cheaper cuts of meat. The simmering burner should be used for this cooking. TOASTERS Bread toasters placed on the top burners of a gas range supply a quick and the most satisfactory method of preparing toast. Large quantities of toast can be made to advantage in the broiler. GAS WATER HEATERS Gas water heaters supply the most economical and convenient source of hot water obtainable. The automatic water heaters are made to heat water instantly and automatically upon opening any hot water faucet in the system. These heaters are made in various capacities from 2 to 8 gallons per minute. Circulating tank heaters which are attached to the kitchen boiler have to be lighted every time they are used. Usually the heater is lighted a few minutes before hot water is required, the time depending upon the amount likely to be used. A 30-gallon tank may be heated in approximately one hour. Sufficient hot water for an average bath may be had in fifteen minutes. The most economical way to handle the circulating tank heater, when water is needed for a bath, is as follows: Light heater and turn on faucet so that the water will flow into the tub as quickly as it is heated in the tank. This is usually at the rate of one gallon per minute. According to the city ordinance, in residences where water meter check valves are installed on the water service, the consumer should supply a safety water relief valve before connecting any hot water system. This must be done to take care of the expansion. GAS FLAT IRONS The gas flat iron is a most satisfactory and economical household appliance. FURNACE CONNECTIONS A pipe coil should be placed in every furnace and connected to the hot water tank in order to insure an economical supply of hot water during the period when the furnace is in use. This makes it possible to use the gas range in the kitchen and enjoy its convenience and economy the year round. ALL-GAS KITCHENS All-gas kitchens embodying the foregoing appliances are in general use owing to their convenience and economy. Details regarding these kitchen appliances and other gas appliances, such as fireplace kindlers, furnace kindlers, coke box kindlers, garbage burners, gas steam radiators, gas water radiators, safety garage heaters and ironing machines may be obtained from your Gas Company. Telephone them, for their salesmen are always glad to serve you. DEMONSTRATOR Most gas companies have a practical and expert demonstrator whose services are free. When any gas appliance is not giving perfect satisfaction in every way, or once a year on general principles, you should ask the demonstrator to call. GAS LIGHTING Correct, healthful and pleasing lighting conditions do more than anything else to brighten, modernize and make comfortable the house of today. Poor light is poor economy in more than one sense of the term. "Poor light" may mean too little or too much light, a wrong kind of light or a misplaced source of light. Any of these conditions cause eye strain. Eye strain results in eye troubles and inevitably affects the general health. Furthermore, the well lighted home is an attractive center for the family, while a badly lighted house creates gloom and a restless atmosphere. Gas light offers convenience in lighting and beauty in its fixtures. Gas light presents the real economy of the best at the least cost. All new houses should be piped for gas. Even an old house can be equipped with ceiling, wall and baseboard outlets with but little expense or inconvenience to you. Your Gas Company will also help you to select just the fixtures and burners you need to harmonize with the decorations in your home and to supply the best possible light for each room. At your call, the Company will keep your equipment in thoroughly efficient condition. You should use only the best gas mantles. It sells them at cost to you in order to encourage their use--cheap mantles are cheap in first cost and expensive in the long run. Your Gas Company prides itself on being "at your service." ELECTRICAL APPLIANCES ELECTRIC SERVICE IN THE HOME The home that is completely wired has at hand a tireless electric servant-of-all-work; for the past few years have seen the invention and perfection of devices for doing household labor of practically every description. These are of practical economy not only when used by the housewife, but also in making domestic help more efficient and better satisfied. In addition to the almost universal use of electricity for lighting, with every facility for flexibility and convenience in connecting and control, electricity may be absolutely depended upon today for washing, wringing, drying and ironing the clothes, for sweeping and dusting, for polishing, for cleaning silver and brightwork, for all cooking, for such culinary processes as beating eggs, mixing bread, grinding meat or coffee, turning the ice cream freezer or sharpening knives, or, on emergency, for heating or cooling the house. And (contrary to popular belief), in most of these cases electricity offers an opportunity for actual domestic economy. Electricity is no longer a rich man's luxury, for its convenience, cleanliness, time saving and economy, as shown by the following pages, have made it every man's necessity. ALL-ELECTRIC HOMES The model home is electrically lighted, has the kitchen equipped with an electric range, electric dishwasher, electric kitchen set for beating eggs, grinding, mixing and polishing; the dining-room equipped with electric coffee percolator, electric samovar and an electric toaster; laundry equipped with electric washing machine, motor-driven mangle heated by gas or electricity, and an electric iron. A vacuum cleaner is essential in every household. Other appliances which will prove their value if once tried are heating pads, vibrators, heating or disk stoves, luminous radiators, sewing machines, fans, pressing iron for the sewing-room and Christmas tree outfits. ELECTRIC RANGE Cooking by electricity is an ideal method, and the electric range makes it practical. Every housewife should be familiar with its advantages as it provides the most satisfactory results. The electric range is reliable, efficient and durable. It saves time, work, worry and watching. It promotes safety, comfort and cleanliness. The electric range is convenient and easy to operate, as the heat is always instantly available and readily regulated at the turn of a switch. Cooking becomes a certainty, as the same switch position always provides the same amount of heat. All the heat is concentrated on the cooking and there is no excess heat wasted on other parts of the range or radiated out into the room. Ordinary cooking utensils are used as with other ranges. Cooking with an electric range can be done at a reasonable cost in consideration of the many inherent advantages above referred to. The roasting of meat to the exact degree desired need not be the dread of the cook when an electric oven is available. The uniformity and reliability of the heat of the electric oven facilitates the roasting of meat without constant attention and worry. Electric broiling insures tender chops and steaks, as the surface of the meat is quickly seared and all its juicy tenderness is retained. In order to facilitate the use of the electric range, your Lighting Company gives an instruction book with every installation. ELECTRIC DISHWASHER After each meal scrape off the dishes and place them in the washer in such a position that the water can be thrown against both sides of them. It is convenient to accumulate enough dishes to fill the washer, as it may thereby become possible to do all of the day's dishes in one washing. Shake washing powder or liquid soap into the machine and add one-quarter of a cup of ammonia. Pour in the right amount of hot water from faucet (according to instructions with machine) and allow the machine to run about 10 minutes. Then let the water run out and pour in a little more to wash out the sediment. Close the drain and pour in boiling water which acts as a rinsing water. Run the machine two minutes more and drain. Raise cover immediately after the machine is stopped to let the steam out. The dishes will dry by themselves with high polish, but it is necessary to wipe the silver and glassware. The washer is then ready to be used as a storage for dishes until needed again. VACUUM CLEANER There are many good electric vacuum cleaners on the market, all of which operate on the same general principle of suction. The Hoover, however, has a motor-driven brush in addition, which acts as a sweeper. Oil the motor with a drop or two each time it is used, according to the directions given with the machine. If using a Hoover, the brush bearings should not be oiled as they are made of wood. Should the brush become stuck it is due to threads, string and hair which have been collected by it. Remove the brush according to directions supplied with the machine and free all the bearings. Clean the bag after using by carefully removing it from the machine and shaking the dirt on a newspaper. Once a month the machine should be cleaned by taking off the bag, lifting the machine from the carpet and allowing the machine to run for a couple of minutes. SEWING MACHINE Follow directions supplied with the machine as to oiling and proper size of needle, thread, etc. Do not make any adjustments unless you are sure you know how. These adjustments require patience, as the adjusting screws must be turned a very little at a time to note the effect produced. Do not run the machine at too high a speed as this will shorten its life. When putting a motor on a foot-power machine be sure that the old machine is not over-speeded. If your machine is provided with a foot release be sure that the release entirely cuts off current, otherwise the motor will run very hot. FLAT IRON There are several makes of electric irons which do excellent work and have a long life. The standard sizes are 3, 6 and 8 pounds. The 6-pound iron is best adapted for general household use. If the iron becomes too hot, disconnect the lead from the iron. In case the terminals become corroded, rub them with a piece of fine emery cloth to remove corrosion. If the contacts become corroded or bent they should be replaced. Your Lighting Company maintains a repair department for all heating and cooking appliances. Telephone Sales Department. ELECTRIC LAMPS Mazda lamps are the most efficient lamps obtainable and their use is recommended for all classes of service. Your electric bills depend upon the watts per lamp and the number of hours of use. Note in the following table that the Mazda lamps give on the average two and one-half times as much light for the same cost as the Gem carbon lamps. The column "Cost of current per month" gives the cost of burning one lamp one hour per day for one month at the maximum rate of nine cents per K. W. H. Table of Comparisons _Gem_Carbon_Lamps_ _Mazda Lamps_(Type_B_) Cost of Cost of current per current per Watts C.P. month in cents Watts C.P. month in cents 30 12 8.1 10 8 2.7 50 20 13.5 25 23 6.7 80 32 21.6 40 38 10.8 60 60 16.2 100 105 27.0 RESIDENTIAL LIGHTING In most cases the following recommendations of Mazda lamp sizes will be found most satisfactory in the home. Frosted lamps are recommended wherever the direct rays of the lamp may strike the eye, as the frosting diffuses the light. Parlor 1-Bracket chandelier 1--60 watt 2-Bracket chandelier 2--40 watt 3-Bracket chandelier 3--25 watt Side wall fixtures for decorative purposes--10 watt, all frosted. Side wall fixtures for good general illumination--25 or 40 watt, all frosted. Hall Small hall 1--10 watt Large hall 1--25 watt Porch Ceiling light 1--10 watt Side bracket 1--25 watt If used for reading light 1--60 watt Bedroom Ceiling light 1--40 watt Side bracket 1--40 watt _or_ 2--25 watt Sitting-room Same as parlor. A well shaded reading lamp with a 40 or 60 watt all-frosted bulb. Dining-room Dome 1--60 watt bowl frosted 2 or 3 light shower 25 watt bowl frosted Semi-indirect 1--60 or 100 watt clear Bathroom Ceiling or side brackets 25 watt Kitchen Ceiling light 1--40 or 60 watt bowl frosted Side bracket over sink 1--25 watt bowl frosted Attic 25 watt Cellar In installing lamps for the cellar the time they are lighted should be borne in mind. As this is short, the expense of running larger lamps--25 watt and 40 watt--is insignificant. The following locations should be provided for: Bottom of cellar stairs 25 watt Work bench 40 watt Laundry 40 watt Vegetable and fruit cellar 25 watt Lamp in front of furnace 60 watt This latter lamp is usually close enough to also illuminate the coal bin. Care of Lamps and Fixtures Lamps and fixtures should he cleaned once a month to insure the maximum efficiency. Reliable tests have shown that dirty glassware reduces effective illumination from 10 to 50 per cent. FIXTURE RECOMMENDATIONS FOR THE HOUSE Parlor Ceiling fixtures Indirect or semi-indirect Side fixtures Semi-indirect Baseboard receptacles for table or floor lamps. Hall One ceiling fixture equipped with two lamps wired so that one or both lamps may be operated as desired. This arrangement provides for a night light. Sitting-room and Library Same as parlor. Bedroom One ceiling semi-indirect fixture. Side brackets near dressing table, or, Rigid pendant for use over center of dressing table. Baseboard outlet near bed for heating pad or reading lamp. Dining-room Indirect or semi-indirect fixture. Baseboard or floor outlet for toaster and percolator. Floor call button attached to kitchen buzzer. Bathroom One side bracket on each side of mirror. One side wall receptacle for curling iron, shaving mug and luminous radiator. Kitchen One center ceiling light, one side bracket over sink and one side wall outlet for iron and washing machine. Cellar Five outlets should be provided for proper illumination, one at foot of stairs, one at work bench, one in fruit and vegetable cellar and one in front of furnace located so as also to illuminate the coal bin. A control switch and telltale lamp should be provided in the kitchen. Attic Two outlets are usually sufficient. A control switch and telltale lamp should be provided in the hall. Clothes Press A rigid pendant with a chain-pull socket should be provided for each dark clothes press. It is most convenient and practical to have these lights operated by an automatic switch which is opened and closed by the closing and opening of the closet door. This provides a light immediately the door is opened, while when the door is shut one may be sure that the light has not been left burning. GENERAL Baseboard outlets should be installed in all rooms for the use of vacuum cleaner, fans, or other portable appliances. Bell-ringing transformers which provide current for door bells and buzzers should be installed for each apartment. Emergency gas lights should be provided for the halls, kitchen, dining-room and bathroom. If any special requirements are not provided for in the above recommendations your Lighting Company will be glad to give you expert advice free of charge. They pride themselves on being at your service. WIRING HINTS The service entrance should be of sufficient capacity to care for additional load in the form of electric heating, cooking and other domestic appliances. The branch circuits should be heavy and numerous enough to care for additional outlets for lighting and appliances as found desirable. Your Lighting Company will be glad to go over your plans with you. The electric meters should be located in the cellar near the gas meter, as this will save you the annoyance of meter readers and testers going through the house to the attic. Be sure and install control switches and telltale lamps on cellar and attic lights. Provide three-way switches in the halls so that the hall lights may be controlled from either the first or second floor. All ceiling outlet lighting, and wherever desirable, side bracket lighting, should be controlled by wall switches. These switches should preferably be of the push-button type rather than of the snap-switch type. In general the best location for these switches is on the wall of the room right next to the door which is the entrance most frequently used. FUSES Fuses on your electrical wiring act in the same capacity as a safety valve on a steam boiler. Whenever there is an overload on the circuit or a short circuit these fuses blow and relieve the strain on your wiring. When in doubt or when in need of suggestions, 'phone the Sales Department of your Lighting Company. HOUSEHOLD HELPS Look in the Index for the principal word of the article about which you desire information. For instance, "To Open Fruit Jars", look under "Fruit Jars" IN THE KITCHEN Use Sand Soap to Sharpen the Food Chopper--If the knives of your food chopper become black and dull, run a piece of sand soap, or scouring brick, through the chopper as you would a potato. It will brighten and sharpen the knives and they will cut like new. Use pulverized sand soap or the scouring brick with which you scour. Kerosene for Water Bugs--A small quantity of kerosene poured down the drain pipe occasionally will stop annoyance from this pest. To Prevent a Glass from Breaking when pouring hot water in it, first put a spoon in the glass. This method can also be used when pouring hot soup or any hot liquid in any fragile receptacle. When Butter is Too Hard to spread easily, turn a heated bowl upside down over the butter dish for a few minutes. This will thoroughly soften the butter without melting it. To Open Fruit Jars--Strips of emery board, about one inch wide and eight inches or so long, will be found useful to loosen obstinate fruit jar tops. Just place the strip around the edge of the top, and give it a twist. To Keep Refrigerator Sweet--A lump of charcoal should be placed in the refrigerator to keep it sweet. When putting your best tea or coffee urn away, drop a small piece of charcoal in it and prop the lid open with a toothpick. Currycomb for Scaling Fish--A currycomb is better than a knife for scaling fish, as it protects the hands. Cornpopper for Toasting Bread--The cornpopper can be used for toasting odds and ends of stale bread which would otherwise be wasted. To Prevent Stains Under the Nails--Dip the ends of the fingers in melted tallow before beginning a task which is likely to stain them. To Remove Stains from the Hands, rub them with a piece of lemon. Starch to Prevent Chapped Hands--Use starch which is ground fine to prevent chapped hands. Every time the hands are washed and rinsed thoroughly, wipe them off, and, while they are yet damp, rub a pinch of starch over their entire surface. Chapping is then not likely to occur. Wisp Brush for Greasy Pans and Kettles--A small wisp brush is better for cleaning greasy pans and kettles than the string mop you use for the dishes. You can buy them two for five cents. A little soap powder sprinkled on them makes a fine suds for the tinware and cooking utensils. Best Way to Strain Soup--When straining soup set a coarse strainer inside of a fine one and pour the liquid through both; you will thus avoid clogging the fine one with pieces of meat and broken bones. How to Crack Pecan Nuts--Almost all housewives know how very hard it is to crack pecan nuts and get the meats out whole. Pour boiling water over the nuts and let them stand tightly covered for five or six hours. The nut meats may then be extracted easily without a trace of the bitter lining of the nut. Use a nut cracker and crack lightly all around the nuts. The work is quickly done and is not at all like the tedious process of picking out the meats from the dry nuts. The meats nearly always come out whole. Lemon Squeezer for Making Beef Juice--When one has to make beef juice in small quantities which does not warrant buying an expensive meat-press, use instead a ten-cent lemon squeezer. This can be sterilized by boiling and kept absolutely clean. One can press out several ounces in a very few minutes. Quick Way to Peel Carrots--Use a coarse grater to peel carrots. A few passes over the grater will rid the carrots of their skins quicker than any other method. Proper Way to Slice Bacon--To slice bacon properly, always place it rind down, and do not attempt to cut through the rind until you have the desired number of slices. Then slip the knife under them and cut them free of the rind, keeping as close to it as possible. When Cream is on the Turn--When the sweetness of the cream is doubtful and there is no more on hand and it must be used, a pinch of soda will keep it from curdling, even in hot coffee. To Prevent Musty Teapot--When putting away a silver teapot, or one that is not in everyday use, place a little stick across the top underneath the cover. This will allow fresh air to get in and prevent mustiness. Lemon or Orange Peel for Tea Caddy--Thoroughly dry the peel from an orange or a lemon, and place it in the tea caddy. This will greatly improve the flavor of the tea. Heat Lemons Before Squeezing--In using lemons, heat them thoroughly before squeezing and you will obtain nearly double the quantity of juice that you would if they had not been heated. To Keep Teakettle from Rusting--A clean oyster shell placed in the teakettle will keep out rust. To Clean Gas Stove Burners--Pick the holes open with a large pin and apply a vacuum cleaner to take out the particles of dirt. Flour for Burning Kerosene--Wheaten flour is the best extinguisher to throw over a fire caused by the spilling and ignition of kerosene. This should be a matter of common knowledge, since flour is always within convenient reach. Use for Old Newspapers--Old newspapers clean stoves beautifully, as well as being useful for polishing kitchen windows. To Take Rust from Flat-Irons, tie some yellow beeswax or paraffine in a cloth, and when the iron is warm, but not hot enough to use, rub with the wax and then rub it through sand or salt. A Good Stove Polisher--A piece of burlap is a very good polisher for the kitchen stove or range when it is hot. It does not burn readily, and for that reason is better than flannel or cotton cloth or paper. Wire Rack for Use Under Pies--When taking pies from the oven, do not put them on the flat surface of the table to cool unless a high wire rack is put under them. The rack helps to keep the crust crisp and they will not be soggy. Marble Slab or Plate Glass for Mixing Board--For mixing cake and pastry an old marble slab or a piece of plate glass is better than a wooden board. To Prevent Cakes from Burning--Sprinkle the bottom of the oven with fine, dry salt to prevent cakes, pies, and other pastry from burning on the bottom. Wooden Bowl When Washing Silver--When washing silver, use a wooden tub or bowl if possible. There will be less danger of the silver getting scratched or otherwise damaged. Tissue Paper for Greasy Dishes--Very greasy dishes should be wiped with soft tissue paper before being washed. To Skin Tomatoes Easily--Tomatoes nearly always have to be skinned before being used. To do this easily, place them in a basin and pour boiling water over them. Let stand a minute, and then drain. Another method is to rub the tomatoes all over with the back of a knife to loosen the skins before peeling. This is said to be better than scalding. To Peel Sweet Potatoes Easily--Before putting sweet potatoes in the oven, grease the skins and they can then be peeled easily and without any waste of the potato. To Prevent Roasted Meat from Drying Out--To prevent roasted meat, which is to be served cold, from drying out and losing its flavor, wrap it in cheesecloth while it is still hot. When Food is Too Salty--When you have put too much salt into cooking food, stretch a clean cloth tightly over the kettle and sprinkle a table-spoonful of flour over the cloth. Then allow the contents of the kettle to steam and in a few moments the flour will absorb the surplus salt. To Remove Fish Odor from Hands--A few drops of ammonia in the water in which you wash your hands will remove all fishy odor from the hands after preparing fish for cooking. To Remove Onion Smell from Pans--The disagreeable smell of onions which clings to pots and pans so stubbornly can be quickly removed by washing and drying the pans, then scouring them with common salt, and placing them on the stove until the salt is brown. Shake often, then wash the pans as usual. To Prevent Onions from Making the Eyes Water--Scalding water poured over onions will keep the eyes from watering. Hint When Baking Bread--When baking bread or rolls, put a saucepan full of boiling water into the oven. The steam rising from it will keep the crust smooth and tender. To Make Meat Tender--A tablespoonful of vinegar added to tough meat while it is boiling or roasting will make it more tender. To Keep the Lid on a Boiling Pot--A teaspoonful of butter dropped into the water in which you are boiling dry beans, or other starchy vegetables, will stop the annoyance of having the lid of the pot jump off, as it will otherwise do. The butter acts the same as oil on troubled waters and keeps it calm and manageable. To Take Fish Taste from Forks and Spoons--To remove the taste and smell of fish from forks and spoons, rub them with a small piece of butter before washing. All taste and smell will thus be entirely removed. How to Judge Mushrooms--Sprinkle a little salt on the gills of mushrooms to judge their fitness to eat. If the gills turn black the mushrooms are fit for food; if they turn yellow, the mushrooms are poisonous. Orange Peel for Cake Flavoring--Do not throw away orange peel, but dry in the oven. Grate the yellow part and use for flavoring cakes. It will give a delicious orange taste. How to Prevent Fish from Breaking Up When Frying--When frying fish, if the pieces are put in the hot fat with the skin side uppermost, and allowed to brown well before turning, there will be no possibility of the fish breaking up. To Remove Cake from Tin--When taking a cake from the oven, place the cake tin on a damp cloth for a moment and the cake will turn out of the tin quite easily. Lemon Juice for Boiling Rice--A few drops of lemon juice added to boiling rice will help to keep the grains separate and will make them white. Onion for Boston Baked Beans--Bake a small onion with your Boston baked beans to prevent indigestion and add to their fine flavor. Hint for Baking Gems--When filling gem pans with batter leave one pan without batter and fill with water. This will prevent the gems from burning on top. Sandpaper for Cleaning Pots--Always keep a piece of fine sandpaper by the sink with which to clean pots. To Prevent Cake from Sticking to Tins after baking, first grease the tins and then dust them with flour. Lightly beat out the loose flour, leaving only that which sticks to the grease. This does away with the old-fashioned method of lining the pans with greased paper. To Peel Apples Easily--Pour boiling water over the cooking apples and they will be much easier to peel. This will be found a considerable saving of time when busy. When Bread is Too Brown--When bread is baked in too hot an oven and the outside crust gets too brown, do not attempt to cut it off, but as soon as the bread gets cold rub it over with a coarse tin grater and remove all the dark-brown crust. Mustard for Removing Odors from the Hands--Ground mustard is excellent for cleaning the hands after handling onions and other things with disagreeable odors. Economy in Use of Candles--A candle which has burned too low to remain in the candlestick can be used to the very end if removed from the stick and placed on a penny or other small, flat piece of metal. To Get Rid of Spiders--A good way to rid the house of spiders is to take pieces of cotton wool, saturate them with oil of pennyroyal and place them in their haunts. To Rid the Kitchen of Flies--Take a cup of vinegar and place it on the stove where it will simmer enough to make an odor. To Clear Beetles Out of Cupboards and larders, sprinkle a little benzine over the boards. This method will kill the eggs as well as the insects. To Drive Cockroaches Away--Powdered gum camphor will drive cockroaches away if sprinkled about their haunts. To Remove Egg Stains from Silver--Egg stains can be removed from silver by rubbing it with table salt on a wet rag. To Polish Faucets--Nothing is better for scouring a faucet than the half of a lemon after the juice has been squeezed out. After scouring, wash it and it will shine like new. An orange peel will also give good results. For Scorched Vegetables or Other Food--When vegetables or other foods become scorched, remove the kettle at once from the stove and put it into a pan of cold water. In a quarter of an hour the suggestion of scorch will be nearly if not entirely gone. When Cake is Scorched--If a cake is scorched on the top or bottom, grate over it lightly with a nutmeg-grater instead of scraping it with a knife. This leaves a smooth surface for frosting. To Make Muffins and Gems Lighter--Muffins and gems will be lighter if, after greasing your pans you place them in the oven a few moments and let them get hot before putting in the batter. To Make Pie Crust Flaky--To make pie crust flaky, try adding half a spoonful of vinegar to the cold water when mixing. To Make Apple Pie Tender--If you are in doubt whether the apples in your open-top pies are cooking tender, just invert another pie pan over the pie and the steam will serve to cook the apples thoroughly. To Make Fowl Tender--After a turkey or chicken is cleaned, the inside and outside should be rubbed thoroughly with a lemon before the dressing is put in. It will make the meat white, juicy and tender. To Prevent Meat from Scorching--When roasting meat, and there is danger that it will become too brown, place a dish of water in the oven. The steam arising from it will prevent scorching and the meat will cook better. A piece of greased paper placed over the meat is also considered good. To Keep Eggs from Popping When Cooking--Mix a tablespoonful of flour in the hot grease in which eggs are to be cooked, and break the eggs into this. You will also find that the flour gives the eggs a better flavor. To Remove Egg Shells When Cooking--If a piece of shell gets into the egg when breaking eggs into a bowl, just touch it with a half shell and it can easily be removed. To Keep Yolks of Eggs Fresh--Yolks of eggs which are not wanted for immediate use can be kept good for several days by dropping them into cold water and keeping in a cool place--the cooler the better. To Prevent Boiling Eggs from Cracking--The four following suggestions are given in regard to boiling eggs. Use the one best suited to the purpose: When Boiling Eggs, wet the shells thoroughly in cold water and they will not crack. To Prevent Eggs from Bursting While Boiling, prick one end of each of the eggs with a needle before placing them in the water. This makes an outlet for the air and keeps the shells from cracking. If Eggs Which You Are About to Boil Are Cracked, add a little vinegar to the water and they can then be boiled as satisfactorily as undamaged ones. A Spoonful of Salt should be added to the water in which slightly cracked eggs are boiled. The salt will prevent the white of the egg from coming out. Worn-Out Broom for Floor Polisher--When a long-handled broom becomes worn out, instead of throwing it away, tie a piece of felt or flannel cloth around the head and make a good floor polisher. It will make work much easier and also keep linoleum in good condition. Footmarks can be rubbed off at any time without stooping. To Clean a Slender Flower Vase fasten a piece of an old sponge onto a stick and push it down into the vase; this will also be found useful for cleaning decanters and water bottles. To Keep Bread Fresh--Wash a potato, wipe it dry and put it in your breadpan. It will keep the bread fresh for several days. To Freshen Old Lemons--Lemons that have become old and dry can be made fresh and juicy again by putting them in a pan of hot water and keeping the water at an even temperature for about two hours. A More Effective Dishcloth for Cleaning--In knitting dishcloths it is a good plan to put in several rows of hard-twisted cord. This hard part of the cloth will clean many surfaces on which it is not advisable to use scouring soap or metal. To Clean Linoleum, use skimmed milk instead of water. It will keep it glossy, and will not rot it as water does. A Good Remedy for Burns--Cover a soft cloth with a thick layer of scraped raw potato (Irish) and apply it to the burned part. The potato should be renewed as often as necessary to keep it moist. For Burns and Light Scalds--At once coat the burned or scalded spot with mucilage and the smarting will cease almost instantly. If the burn is quite deep, keep it covered with a paste made of cold water and flour; do not allow the paste to get dry until the smarting stops. A GOOD WAY TO SAVE GAS-- READ THE PAGES IN THE FRONT OF THIS BOOK Brush for Removing Silk from Corn--When preparing corn on the ear for the table, or for canning purposes, use a small hand brush to remove the silk. It will do the job more thoroughly and quicker than it can be done with the fingers. To Remove Grease Spots from the Kitchen Floor--Apply alcohol to the spots and you will be surprised to find how easily they can be removed. The small amount of alcohol necessary to be used need not soil the hands. To Open a Jar of Fruit or Vegetables Which Has Stuck Fast-- Place the jar in a deep saucepan half full of cold water; bring it to a boil and let it boil for a few moments. The jar can then be opened easily. To Identify Dishes Which Have Been Loaned--When taking dishes or silver to a picnic or other public gathering, place a small piece of surgeon's plaster on the bottom of each dish and on the under side of the handles of spoons and forks. On this plaster mark your initials (in indelible ink if possible). The plaster will not come off during ordinary washing, but can later be removed by putting it in a warm place until the adhesive gum melts. Tablet or Slate for Kitchen Memoranda--Keep in the kitchen a tablet with a pencil tied to it, or a ten-cent slate and pencil hung upon the wall. The day's work is easier and smoother if you plan each morning the special tasks of the day and jot them down, checking them off as accomplished. Planning the day's meals in advance results in better balanced menus. Writing down all groceries and household supplies as needed will save time when you go to the store or the order boy calls. To Fasten Food Chopper Securely--Before fastening the food chopper to the table, put a piece of sandpaper, large enough to go under both clamps, rough side up, on the table; then screw the chopper clamps up tight and you will not be bothered with them working loose. To Remove Insects from Vegetables which are being washed, put a pinch of borax in the water. It will bring any live insect to the surface at once. To Clean Rust and Stains from Tin--Tins that have become rusty or stained may be cleaned by rubbing well with the cut surface of a raw potato which has been dipped in a fine cleaning powder. To Polish Glass--After washing glass, polish with dry salt. Lemon Juice for Cut Glass--Lemon juice is fine for polishing cut-glass tumblers. These pretties are so delicate there is always danger of breaking the stems. Fill a pan half full of cold water, place a cloth in the bottom and then add the juice of an entire lemon. Just dipping a tumbler about in this cleans and polishes it and it only needs drying with soft linen. Many Uses of Ammonia--As a time saver it is unequalled when washing woodwork and windows. It is fine for cleaning carpets on the floor. They should be swept well and the broom washed; then brush again with water. They will look much brighter, and if there is a lurking moth in the carpet this treatment will destroy it. Ammonia will set color, remove stains and grease, and soften fabrics. A light soap suds with a few drops of ammonia added will give a sparkle to ordinary pressed glass and china impossible to secure without it. Hints for Oil Lamps and Chimneys--The five following paragraphs contain some good suggestions for the use of oil lamps: Put a Small Lump of Camphor Gum in the body of an oil lamp and it will greatly improve the light and make the flame clearer and brighter. A few drops of vinegar occasionally is said to give the same results. To Prevent Lamp Chimney from Cracking--A common hairpin placed astride the top edge of a lamp chimney will keep it from cracking from the heat, and will greatly prolong its life. Gas and Lamp Chimneys, earthenware and baking dishes can be toughened before using by putting them into cold water which is heated gradually until it boils and then cooled slowly. When Washing Your Lamp Chimneys, lift them out of the water and set them on the hot stove; they will not break. Let them steam; then wipe on a clean cloth and they will be as clear as crystal. Take Your Lamp Wicks When New and soak them thoroughly in good apple vinegar and you will be delighted with the result. Do not wring them out, but hang them near a stove or lay out on a plate until dry. This treatment will double the lighting power of your lamps or lanterns. With wicks prepared in this way, only one cleaning each week is necessary, as the wicks will not smoke and the chimney and globe will not blacken around the top. To Mend Broken China, Etc.--The four following methods of mending china, etc., are all considered good: To Mend Broken China--Mix well a teaspoonful of alum and a tablespoonful of water and place it in a hot oven until quite transparent. Wash the broken pieces in hot water, dry them, and while still warm coat the broken edges thickly; then press together very quickly, for it sticks instantly. To Mend Broken Crockery--White lead is one of the few cements that will resist both heat and water. Apply it thinly to the edges of the broken pieces, press them tightly together and set aside to dry. A Cheap Cement for Broken China is lime mixed with the white of an egg. Take only sufficient white of an egg to mend one article at a time, and mix thoroughly with a small quantity of lime. To Mend China successfully melt a small quantity of pulverized alum in an old spoon over the fire. Before it hardens rub the alum over the pieces to be united, press them together and set aside to dry. After drying they will not come apart, even when washed with hot water. Embroidery Hoops and Cheesecloth for Cooling Dishes--When putting puddings or other dishes out of doors to cool, use a cover made of embroidery hoops of proper size with cheesecloth put in as a piece of embroidery is. The contents will be safe from dust and at the same time the air can circulate freely. The hoops will keep the cloth from getting into the contents and also weigh just enough to keep it from blowing off. To Clean Mica in Stove Doors--To clean the mica in stove doors, rub it with a soft cloth dipped in equal parts of vinegar and cold water. To Clean Tarnished Silver, use a piece of raw potato dipped in baking soda. For Tarnished Silverware--If the silverware has become badly tarnished, put it in an aluminum dish, cover it with water, and boil it up for a short time. It will come out bright and clean. To Clean White Knife Handles--To clean and whiten ivory-handled knives which have become yellow with age, rub with fine emery paper or sandpaper. To Prevent Rust in Tinware--If new tinware is rubbed over with fresh lard and thoroughly heated in the oven before being used, it will never rust afterward, no matter how much it is put in water. To Remove Rust from Tinware--To remove rust from tinware, rub the rusted part well with a green tomato cut in half. Let this remain on the tin for a few minutes; then wash the article and the rust will have vanished. Kerosene for Tinware Stains, Etc.--Kerosene removes stains from tinware, porcelain tubs and varnished furniture. Rub with a woolen cloth saturated with it; the odor quickly evaporates. To Preserve Enamel Pans--If new enamel pans are placed in a pan of water and allowed to come to a boil and then cooled, they will be found to last much longer without burning or cracking. To Prevent Dust When Sweeping--Wet the broom before starting to sweep; it makes it more pliable and less hard on the carpet's pile and also prevents dust from arising. To Clean Paint or Rust from Linoleum--When linoleum becomes spotted with paint or rust it may be cleaned by rubbing with steel shavings or emery paper. Linseed Oil for Kitchen Floor--Boiled linseed oil applied to the kitchen floor will give a finish that is easily cleaned. It may also be painted over the draining board of the sink; this will do away with hard scrubbing. It should be renewed twice a year. Window Cleaning Hints--The six following paragraphs will be found useful when cleaning windows: After Polishing Windows, moisten a clean rag with a very little glycerine and rub it over the pane. Windows polished in this way do not "steam" and will stay clean much longer. A Cold-Weather Cleaner for Windows--Dampen a cheesecloth with kerosene and you can clean your windows quickly in cold weather when water can not be applied to the glass without freezing. Window Cleaning Help--Before starting to clean windows carefully brush all dust off the frames. Add a few drops of kerosene to the water used for cleaning and it will give the glass a much brighter and more crystal-like appearance. To Clean Windows--First wash the glass with water to which a little ammonia has been added and then polish with a chamois which has been dipped in water and wrung as dry as possible. Cloths for Cleaning Windows Without Use of Water can be made with a semi-liquid paste of benzine and calcined magnesia. The cloth, which should be coarse linen or something free from lint, is dipped into this mixture and hung in the air until the spirits have evaporated and it is free from odor. This cloth may be used again and again and is a great convenience. When soiled, wash it and redip. To Remove Paint from Window Panes--Paint can be removed from window panes by applying a strong solution of soda. To Clean a Glass Bottle, cut a lemon in small pieces and drop them into the bottle; half fill with water, and shake well. Old Stocking Tops for Dusters or Dustless Mop--Old stocking tops make good dusters when sewed together. They also make good polishing cloths for oiling and rubbing down floors and furniture. Several old stocking tops cut into strips and dipped in paraffine oil make a fine dustless mop for hardwood floors. Cheap Stain for Wood Floors--Ten cents' worth of permanganate of potash will stain a wood floor. When dry polish it with some beeswax and turpentine. It will look as though it had been that color for years. Put the permanganate of potash in an old tin and pour about one quart of boiling water over it; then, with a brush, paint over the floor, after it has cooled. When thoroughly dry, polish. The floor will look like oak. Cheap Polish for Varnished Floors or Linoleum--Take equal parts of kerosene, linseed oil and turpentine to make an inexpensive polish for oiled or varnished floors. An application of this polish to the kitchen linoleum with soft cloth or mop will keep it like new. Varnish for Linoleum--To make linoleum last much longer and have a better appearance, give it a good coat of varnish every few months. To Make Wallpaper Waterproof--To varnish the paper back of the sink, or other places, so it may be wiped with a damp cloth, coat with a mixture made with one ounce of gum arabic, three ounces of glue, and a bar of soap, dissolved in a quart of water. This amount will coat quite a wide surface. IN THE SEWING ROOM When Hands Perspire and soil the sewing material, try bathing them with strong alum water. To Prevent Oil from Soiling Goods--To prevent a sewing machine that has been oiled from soiling the material, try the following method: Tie a small piece of ribbon, or cotton string, around the needlebar near the point where it grips the needle. When Scissors Get Blunt, sharpen them by opening and drawing backward and forward on a piece of glass. This will sharpen the bluntest of scissors. To Tighten a Loose Sewing-Machine Belt, put a few drops of castor-oil on it; run the machine a few minutes and the belt will tighten. To Remove Sewing-Machine Oil Spots: (a) Wet the spots with spirits of turpentine and wash out with cold water and toilet soap, or, (b) Rub the spot with chalk as soon as noticed. Leave for a short time, then brush, and the spot will disappear. To Pair Stockings--For stockings with white heels or tops, mark with indelible ink. For all-black stockings, use colored threads, making a cross-stitch on one pair, two cross-stitches on another, etc. To Prevent Cutting of Stockings--If the covering of the button on side elastics comes off, wind with a fine rubber band. A Sewing Suggestion--A small, inexpensive flashlight should be kept in the sewing machine drawer. It will not only save many precious minutes, but will relieve eye strain when threading a machine needle on a dark day or at night. IN THE BEDROOM To Clean Bed Springs--To clean the dust and dirt from bed springs, set them out in the yard on a sunny day and turn the hose on them freely. The sun and wind will afterward dry them in a few minutes. If Your Alarm Clock Rings Too Loudly, slip an elastic band around the bell to diminish the noise. The wider the band that is used, the greater will be the suppression. Protection Against Spilled Water in Sick Bed--If water is accidentally spilled in bed when attending someone who is ill, it can be quickly dried by slipping a hot-water bag filled with very hot water between the bed covers over the wet spot and leaving it there for a few minutes. To Clean and Polish Brass Beds--Brass bedsteads can be cleaned by rubbing them with a cloth which has been slightly moistened with sweet oil; then polished with a soft, dry duster, and lastly with a chamois leather. If this is done occasionally, it will keep them in good condition for years. But it is a better plan to use the lacquer, given below, after cleaning. Wooden bedsteads should be wiped every three months with a cloth moistened with turpentine to keep them clean. To Keep Brass from Tarnishing--To keep brass beds and other forms of brass work from tarnishing, and also to avoid frequent polishing, the brass should be lacquered with gum shellac dissolved in alcohol. Apply the lacquer with a small paint brush. Ten cents worth will lacquer a bedstead. Clear, hard-drying varnish is also good for this purpose. IN THE PARLOR New Way to Fasten Lace Curtains--The best way to secure lace or net curtains in place over the poles is to fasten with the very fine wire hairpins, known as "invisible" hairpins. These are so sharp that they can be pushed through the curtains without injury to the fabric, and are so fine that they are more invisible than pins. They have the added advantage of never slipping out of place like small-headed pins, or becoming entangled in the lace like safety-pins. Put them perpendicularly (up and down) in the curtain with the rounded head at the top. Filling for Sofa Cushions--Cut a roll of cotton in small squares and put it in a pan in the oven and heat it for half an hour. Do not let the cotton scorch. Every square will swell to twice its original size and will be as light and fluffy as feathers for stuffing sofa cushions. To Brighten Carpets--Wipe them with warm water to which has been added a few drops of ammonia. To Clean Picture Glass--Clean the glass over pictures with a cloth wrung from hot water and dipped in alcohol. Polish them immediately, until they are dry and glossy, with a chamois or tissue paper. Polish for Leather Upholstered Furniture--Turpentine and beeswax mixed to the consistency of thin cream makes a fine polish for leather upholstered furniture. To Fasten Small Pieces on Furniture--For fixing on small pieces of wood chipped off furniture, use the white of an egg. Onion Water for Gilt Frames--Flies may be kept from damaging gilt frames by going over the frames with a soft brush dipped in a pint of water in which three or four onions have been boiled. This is also good for cleaning the frames. To Remove Fly Specks from Gilding--Old ale is a good thing with which to wash any gilding, as it acts at once on the fly dirt. Apply with a soft rag. To Clean Gilded Picture Frames, use a weak solution of ammonia and water. Go over the gilt gently with a moist cloth, and after a few moments, when the dirt has had time to soften, repeat the operation. Do not rub hard, and dry by dabbing gently with a soft cloth. IN THE BATHROOM For Clogged Lavatory Basins--Mix a handful of soda with a handful of common salt and force it down the pipe; then rinse the pipe thoroughly with boiling water. To Clean Bath Tub and Wash Bowl--Some housekeepers like to use kerosene in the bath tub to take off the soapsuds and stain that will gather, but the odor is sometimes objectionable. To clean the bath tub and the wash bowl in a jiffy use a half lemon rind turned wrong side out. To Clean Mirrors--A little camphor rubbed on a mirror after the dust has been wiped off will brighten it wonderfully. To Clean and Purify a Sponge--Rub a fresh lemon thoroughly into a soured sponge and then rinse several times. The sponge can be made as sweet as a new one. IN THE LAUNDRY To Clean Dirty Clothesline--Wrap it around the washboard and scrub it with a brush and soap suds. Brick for Iron Stand--If a brick is used for an iron stand, the iron will hold its heat much longer than when an ordinary stand is used. Lemon for Whitening Clothes--Put a slice of lemon, with rind on, in your boiler of clothes and it will remove stains and make your clothes white without injuring them. To Prevent Starch from Sticking to the Iron--Borax and oily substances added to starch will increase the gloss on the article to be ironed and will also prevent the starch from sticking to the iron. To Make Water Softer for Washing--Use four ounces of alcohol and one-half ounce of ammonia. If used for toilet purposes add to this one dram of oil of lavender. A couple of teaspoonfuls of glycerine to a small tubful of water will soften the lather in which flannel pieces are to be washed. To Protect Hand from a Gasoline Iron--When using a gasoline iron, a little steam always rises from the iron and burns the hand. Before putting on your glove, rub the side of the hand well with vaseline and this burning can be avoided. To Prevent Woolen Blankets from Shrinking--After washing woolen blankets put them on curtain stretchers to dry and prevent shrinking. To Restore Flannels, which have become hard and shrunken, to their former softness, soak them in gasoline. To Make Linen Glossy--When a gloss is desired for linen goods, add a teaspoonful of salt to the starch when making. Quick Method of Sprinkling Clothes--Turn the nozzle of the garden hose to a fine spray and sprinkle the clothes while they are on the line. All plain pieces can then be rolled up and laid in the basket as they are taken down. Starched pieces may need a little further hand sprinkling. When Laundering Sash Curtains, never starch the hem; the rod can then be run through it without danger of tearing. To Clean Wringer Rollers--Kerosene is excellent for cleaning the rubber rollers of a clothes wringer. After it has been applied rinse the rollers off with warm water. When Ironing Calicoes--Dark calicoes should always be ironed on the wrong side of the goods with irons that are not too hot. To Make White Curtains Ecru or Cream Color--First soak curtains over night in cold water to remove all dust. In the morning wash in usual way and rinse thoroughly to remove all soap. Then put them in boiler with a tan stocking and remove when the desired color is obtained. To Stretch Curtains Without a Curtain Frame--Fold the lace curtain double lengthwise; then pin it on a tightly stretched line with many clothes-pins and slip a clean pole inside the folded curtain. This stretches the curtain satisfactorily and saves considerable time and money when a curtain stretcher is not available. Right Way to Hang Skirts--In laundering skirts made of pique, cotton or woolen pin them to the line by the waistband so they will hang straight down. If pinned this way they shrink evenly all around instead of sagging, as they do when pinned at the hem. Bleaching a Scorched Spot--If you scorch a piece of white goods while ironing, immediately rub the spot with a cloth dipped in diluted peroxide, then run the iron over it and the cloth will be as white as before. To Iron Over Buttons, Etc.--When ironing over blouses or frocks with large buttons or hooks and eyes on, use several thicknesses of blanket or Turkish towels to iron them on. Turn the garment button-side down, and press on the wrong side. The buttons will sink into the soft padding and leave a smooth surface for the iron to run over. To Restore Color--When color on a fabric has been accidentally or otherwise destroyed by acid, apply ammonia to neutralize the same, after which an application of chloroform will usually restore the original color. The use of ammonia is common, but that of chloroform is but little known. To Set Color in Wash Goods before laundering: Any colored fabric should have color set before washing, using the method below which is best suited to the goods: For green, blue, pink, pinkish purple, lavender and aniline reds, soak for 10 minutes in alum water, using three ounces of alum to a tub of water. For black-and-white, gray, purple, and dark blue, soak in salt water, using a teaspoonful of common salt to a quart of water; soak one hour and rinse thoroughly. Dry in the shade. If in doubt about the goods, first try a small piece of it as above and note carefully the result. Vinegar is also considered good for dark colors, using one-fourth cup of vinegar to one quart of water. Sugar of lead is best for delicate greens, blues and tans. Use one teaspoonful of sugar of lead to one quart of water. To Get Rid of Ants--To rid the house of ants, smear the cracks and corners of the infested rooms with balsam of peru. MISCELLANEOUS A Cheap Floor Wax--A satisfactory and economical floor wax which is excellent for use on hardwood floors: To one-half cake of melted paraffin add one teacupful of turpentine. Apply to the clean dry floor with a cloth; then polish with a woolen cloth or weighted brush. It gives an excellent polish and keeps the floor nice and light. To Loosen Screws and Nails which have become rusted into wood: (1) Drop a little paraffin on them, and after a short time they can easily be removed, or, (2) Hold a red hot iron to the head of the screw for a short time and use the screwdriver while the screw is still hot. To Put Hooks in Hardwood--When putting hooks in hardwood, use a clothes-pin to turn them, or slip the handle of a knife or any small steel article through the hook and turn until it is secure in the wood. This will save your fingers from aching. Insoles from Old Felt Hats--Cut out pieces from old felt hats big enough to fit the inside of your shoes. This makes a fine insole, and is a great help to keep the feet warm. Novelty Candle-Holders--Rosy-cheeked apples, polished and hollowed out to receive the end of a candle, make charming candle-sticks at a children's party. Especially where a color scheme of red and white is carried out, nothing prettier or more suitable could be designed. Lime for Damp and Musty Cellars--A few lumps of unslaked lime in the cellar will keep the air pure and sweet and also absorb the dampness. Handy Ice Pick--If an ice pick is not available or is misplaced for the time being, an ordinary hat pin gradually forced into ice produces a crack and separates the ice without a sound. Needles and even common pins are used in hospitals to crack ice for patients. Help in Freezing Cream Quickly--If the freezer is packed half an hour before the mixture is put in the can the freezing will be speedier. Allow three times the quantity of ice that there is of salt. Mix before using, or put in the freezer in layers. Cutting Off Old Bottles and Their Uses--A bottle may be cut off by wrapping a cord saturated in kerosene oil around it several times at the point you wish to cut it, then setting fire to the cord, and just when it has finished burning plunge the bottle into cold water and tap the end you wish to break off. Odd shaped or prettily colored bottles make nice vases. The top of a large bottle with a small neck makes a good funnel. Large round bottles make good jelly glasses. Many other uses will no doubt suggest themselves to your mind. More Serviceable Umbrella Jars--Place a large carriage sponge in the bottom of the umbrella jar to prevent umbrellas from striking the bottom of the jar and breaking it. The sponge will also absorb the water from a dripping umbrella. Squeaking Hammock--If your hammock has an annoying squeak where the rope or chain is joined on the hook, slip the finger from an old glove over the hook before putting on the rope or chain. To Lubricate a Clock--If your clock stops on account of being gummed with dust, place a small piece of cotton saturated with kerosene in the clock, and leave it there several hours. The fumes from the kerosene will loosen the dirt, and the clock will run again as well as ever. A Grape-Basket for the Clothespins, with a wire hook fastened to the handle, will save much time when hanging out clothes; it can be pushed along the line and will always be handy for use. For Worn Carpet Sweeper Pulleys--To keep the wood pulleys on carpet sweeper brushes from slipping after they have worn smooth, wrap once or twice with adhesive tape. This will also keep the pulleys from wearing unevenly with the grain of the wood. To Protect Clothing Spread on the Grass for Bleaching--When linen pieces or small articles of clothing are placed upon the grass to whiten, much trouble may be prevented by spreading a strip of cheesecloth over them and fastening it down with wooden pegs or hairpins. This does not prevent bleaching, but keeps off worms and bugs, and prevents the articles from being blown away by the wind. To Soften Paint Brushes that have been used for varnishing and not been cleaned, soak them in turpentine. To soften brushes that have dried paint in them soak in hot vinegar or in turpentine or gasoline. Vinegar for Dried Mucilage--When mucilage has dried at the bottom of the bottle, pour a spoonful or two of vinegar in it, and let it stand awhile. The mucilage will be as good as ever. To Remove Paper Labels, wet the face of the label with water and hold it near a flame or stove. To Separate Postage Stamps--When postage stamps stick together do not soak them. Instead, lay a thin paper over them, and run a hot iron over the paper. They will come apart easily and the mucilage on the back of the stamps can be used as though it was new. Soap Application When Eyeglasses Steam--To prevent annoyance caused by a deposit of moisture upon eyeglasses, when going from a cold into a warm atmosphere, moisten the tips of the fingers and rub them over a cake of soap. Then rub them over the lens, and polish as usual. One application every day or two is all that is necessary. For the Invalid's Room--A few drops of oil of lavender in boiling water is excellent for the invalid's room. For Perspiration Odor--The unpleasant odor of perspiration often causes much annoyance. Instead of using perfumery, wash the body with warm water to which has been added two tablespoonfuls of compound spirits of ammonia. This will leave the skin sweet, clean, and fresh. For a Sprain--Salt and vinegar, bound on a sprain, will relieve the pain in a very little while. To Prevent a Blister on the Heel--If shoes slip and cause blisters on the heels, rub paraffin on the stocking. In a short time the slipping will stop. For Burns, Etc.--If you burn your finger or hand make a strong solution of bluing water and soak the affected part in it for ten minutes, or longer if necessary. The pain will quickly disappear and no soreness will result. For Insomnia--A heaping bowl of bread and milk, seasoned with salt, and eaten just before retiring, is recommended as a sure cure for the worst case of insomnia. Sulphur to Rid House of Rats--Sulphur will successfully rid the house of rats if sprinkled in bureau drawers, closets, and around holes where they are liable to come in. The farmer, also, will find that his corn will not be troubled if he sprinkles it about the barn. To Get Rid of Mice--Mice do not like the smell of peppermint, and a little oil of peppermint placed about their haunts will soon force them to look for other quarters. Lumps of camphor placed about their haunts is another effective method of keeping mice away. To Kill Weeds--If annoyed with dock, dandelion, or other weeds, fill an oil-can with kerosene. With a knife cut the weed off at the ground, or just below, and put a drop or two of kerosene on the heart of the weed. It will not grow again afterward. To Take Mildew Out of Leather--Mildew on leather may be removed with pure vaseline. Rub a little of this into the leather until quite absorbed, and then polish carefully with a clean chamois leather. To Destroy Earthworms--To rid the earth in flower-pots of worms, mix a small quantity of finely-pulverized tobacco with the earth in each. To Induce a Canary to Take a Bath, sprinkle a few seeds on the water. This added attraction will make the bath become a habit with the little pet. A Cure for Leaky Pens--Empty the fountain pen and clean it thoroughly; fill with ink and apply some soap to the threads of the screw. If Your Fingers Become Stained with Ink, wet the head of a match and rub it on the spots. Then rinse the fingers with soap and water and the ink will quickly disappear. A Handy Pen or Brush Holder for Your Desk--A sheet of corrugated paper is a handy thing to have on your writing desk to hold wet pens or brushes. The paper will absorb the liquid and the corrugations will hold the pens or brushes in convenient position. A Novel Match Scratcher--To avoid matches being scratched on the wall-paper almost as much as on the match-scratch, try the idea of removing the glass from a small oval or square picture frame and framing a piece of sandpaper just as one would a picture. Put a small screw-eye on top of the frame, thus allowing it to hang perfectly flat against the wall. The frame prevents the match from being carried over the edges of the sandpaper onto the wall. Emergency White Glove Repair--If your white glove rips or tears accidentally just as you are putting it on to go out, and there is no time to mend same, put a small strip of white adhesive plaster over the spot and it will never be noticed. To Keep Rugs from Slipping--Cut a three-cornered piece of rubber sheeting to fit each corner and sew it firmly in place. Another way is to take a piece of heavy, rough sheathing paper a bit smaller than the rug and lay the rug on that. For Sagging Chair Seats--When cane-seated chairs sag they can be tightened by washing the bottom of the cane in hot water and soap; then rinse in clean water and dry out-of-doors. Two Uses for Velveteen--Old velveteen, fastened over a firm broom, is excellent for wiping down walls. To polish furniture, use a piece of velveteen instead of chamois leather. The former is much cheaper than the chamois and serves just as well. Saltpeter for Icy Steps--Ice on marble or stone steps can be thawed by sprinkling several handfuls of saltpeter on it. An Easy Fly Exterminator--To drive out flies put twenty drops of oil of lavender in a saucer and dilute it slightly with hot water. The sweet, heavy odor of the lavender is very disagreeable to the flies, and the house will soon be rid of them. To Avoid Mistakes with Poison--When poison is kept in the house, push two stout, sharp-pointed pins through the corks crosswise. The pricking points remind even the most careless person of danger. To Pick Up Broken Glass--Even the smallest pieces of broken glass can be easily picked up by using a bit of wet absorbent cotton, which can afterward be destroyed by burning. For Leaky Vases or Other Ornamental Bric-a-Brac--If a valuable flower vase leaks, take some melted paraffin, such as is used over jelly-jars, and pour it into the vase and let it harden over the spot where the leak occurs. It will not leak again. Polish for Floors--Rub polished floors with a mixture of one-third raw linseed oil and two-thirds paraffin. Afterward polish with a dry cloth. To Prevent a Rocking Chair from Creeping across the room while rocking in it, glue strips of velvet on bottom of chair rockers, and the annoyance will cease. To Mark Place for Picture-Nail--When just the right position has been found to hang the picture, moisten your finger and press it against the place where the nail should go. This does away with the awkward reaching for hammer and nail while holding the picture against the wall. An Unbreakable Bead Chain--A violin string makes an excellent chain for stringing beads. It will stand a great amount of wear and tear and will practically last forever. When Packing Flowers for Transportation--When flowers are to be sent some distance it is a good plan to place the ends of the stems in a raw potato. They will keep as fresh as if in water. (1) To Keep Flowers Fresh--To keep flowers fresh put a small piece of sugar in the water. (2) To Keep Flowers Fresh, place a pinch of bicarbonate of soda in the water before putting them into a vase. (3) Cut flowers with woody stems will last much longer in water if the stalks are scraped for about three inches up. When Taking Down Pictures in House-Cleaning Time a stick with a deep notch in the end, to lift picture-cords from hooks, is a great convenience. To Tighten Your Eyeglasses--If the tiny screws in your eyeglasses need tightening, you will find that a small steel pen answers as well as a screwdriver. To Mend Celluloid--Moisten the broken edges with glacial acetic acid and hold them together until the acid dries. To Clean White Enameled Furniture--First remove all dirty marks with a flannel cloth dipped in wood alcohol. Then wash at once with tepid water to which has been added a little fine oatmeal. Never use soap or soda. Felt for Dining-Chair Legs--Thin strips of felt glued to the bottom of dining-chair legs will deaden the noise and save the hardwood floors. When Baby Chokes--A choking infant can be quickly relieved by pressing between its eyes with your thumb and finger. To Remove a Fishbone from the Throat--Cut a lemon in two and suck the juice slowly. This will soften the fishbone and give instant relief. New Uses for Macaroni--A stick of macaroni will serve in place of a glass tube for a patient who cannot sit up in bed to drink, or will sometimes induce a child to drink its milk when otherwise it would not. For the Restless Baby--When the creeping baby is placed on the bed for his daily nap, use a large safety-pin to pin his clothes to the bed, or to a strap fastened to the head or foot of the bed. To Drive Nails in Plaster without cracking the plaster, put the nail in hot water for a few minutes and it can then be driven in securely without damage to the wall. Plaster of Paris for Mending Walls--When painting walls and the plaster is in need of mending, fix it with plaster of paris mixed with some of the paint you intend using to paint it with. This will prevent the mended spot from showing. To fix a white wall, mix plaster of paris with turpentine and oil. To Remove Smoke Marks from the Ceiling, frequently due to a smoky lamp, mix a thick paste of starch and water, and with a clean flannel cloth spread it over the entire mark. Allow it to stay on until thoroughly dry, then brush off with a soft brush, and the discoloration will disappear like magic. To Clean a Raincoat--Use either of the two following methods: (1) Use soap and water and not gasoline, as gasoline will injure the rubber. Lay out on a flat surface and scrub lightly with soap and water; then rinse with clear water. Do not wring. Put on a coat-hanger and hang out to dry. (2) Pour some vinegar into a dish and dip a soft rag or sponge into it; then place the mackintosh on the table and rub the soiled parts lightly. If a Bug or Other Small Insect Gets in the Ear and causes severe pain, pour a little melted butter in the ear and there will be instant relief. To Remove Soot from Carpet--Do not attempt to sweep the carpet until it has been covered with dry salt. Then sweep it and no smear will be left. To Brighten a Carpet--First sweep the carpet clean. Then dip a soft, clean mop into a pail containing one-half gallon of water and one-half teacupful of ammonia; wring it well and rub it over the carpet; it will be as bright and fluffy as when new. To Destroy Moths in Carpets, wring a thick towel out of water, spread it on the carpet, and iron over it with a very hot iron. The heat and steam will go through the carpet, thus destroying the grubs. A Moth Preventive--If you wish to be rid of moths, pour a little turpentine in the corners of the wardrobe, chiffonier, or trunk. To Keep Moths Out of Pianos--Try rubbing turpentine occasionally over the woodwork on the inside of the piano, and you will never be troubled with moths getting into the piano, even when it is not used for a long time. To Clean Gilt Frames, dip a soft cloth in the white of egg and gently rub off the soiled spots. To Remove Ink Stains from an Oak Table, lay spirits of wine on the marks; let it remain for some time, then rub well and clean off. To Clean Leather Furniture, add a little vinegar to warm water (not hot) and brush the leather over with it. Restore the polish by rubbing with two tablespoonfuls of turpentine mixed with the whites of two eggs. To Clean Bronze, make the article very hot by placing it in boiling water; then rub it well with a piece of flannel cloth dipped in soapsuds, and dry with a chamois leather. To Clean Zinc--Take a thick slice of lemon and rub it over the stained spots. Let it remain for an hour, then wash the zinc metal with soap and water and it will become clean and bright. To Clean Brass--To keep the polish on brass, after polishing in the usual way, coat with clear varnish. The following is a good polish: To clean tarnished brass use equal parts of vinegar and salt. Rub with this mixture thoroughly, letting it dry on; then wash off in warm, soapy water and polish with a soft cloth. Cleaning with Gasoline--The three following suggestions are made with reference to cleaning with gasoline: (1) To take the odor of gasoline out of freshly cleaned garments, use oil of sassafras in the gasoline to the proportion of about five drops to a quart of gasoline. (2) If a little salt is added to gasoline which is used for cleaning wool or silk material, there will be no ring remaining when dry. (3) Put about one-third part of vinegar in the water with which you dampen the cloth when pressing an article that has been cleaned with gasoline. This will not only remove the scent of the gasoline but will prevent circles forming. Alcohol for Cleaning White Kid Articles--Pure alcohol is better than gasoline for cleaning white kid gloves or other white kid articles, as it dries quickly without the unpleasant odor that gasoline leaves. Five cents' worth of alcohol cleans a pair of gloves beautifully. To Clean White Kid Shoes--Make a lather of pure white soap and milk for cleaning white kid shoes. Brush as much dirt as possible off the shoes before scrubbing with the lather. If New Boots or Shoes Will Not Polish, rub them over with half a lemon and leave until thoroughly dry. Repeat this once or twice if necessary. New Tag for Shoe Lace--If a tag comes off a boot or shoe lace, press a little melted black sealing wax round the end of the lace and shape it to form a tag. It will serve almost as well as the original. To Renovate a Shabby Serge Skirt, sponge it over with hot vinegar until the stains and grease marks disappear; then thoroughly press on the wrong side with a fairly hot iron. To Remove Shine from Woolen Goods--Wet a piece of crinoline and lay it over the shiny surface of the goods. Cover with a dry cloth and press with a hot iron. Pull the crinoline away quickly, as you would a plaster, and this will raise the nap of the goods. To Remove Shine from Black Cloth, rub it well with a piece of flannel dipped in spirits of turpentine and dry in the open air. To Clean a Black Dress--Take a dozen ivy leaves and steep them in boiling water. Let it stand until cold; then rub well over the stained parts. This solution will remove all stains and make the cloth look fresh. To Clean Men's Clothing--Take a soft cloth, dip it in alcohol, and press it lightly over a cake of pure soap; then apply it briskly to the article to be cleaned. After sponging the garment carefully, press it. In cases of obstinate grease spots, rub well with a lather made from pure white soap and luke-warm water; then sponge off with alcohol and proceed as above. Wall Paper Remover--To remove wall paper in about one-half the usual time, take one heaping tablespoonful of saltpetre to a gallon of hot water, and apply it to the paper freely with a brush. A whitewash brush is best for the purpose, as it covers a broader space than other brushes. Keep the water hot, and after a few applications the paper can be easily pulled from the wall. To Clean Wallpaper, make a paste of three cupfuls of flour, three tablespoonfuls of ammonia and one and one-half cupfuls of water. Roll it into balls and rub it over the paper. It will make it as clean as when new. Tobacco for Plant Insects--One tablespoonful of smoking tobacco soaked in a quart of water for twelve hours or more makes a solution that will destroy insects and promote the growth of the plant. It must be poured on the soil about every two months. When a Wax Candle is Too Large for the holder the end should be held in hot water until it is soft. It can then be pressed into shape to fit the hole and there will be no waste of wax, as when slices are shaved off the end of a candle. Salt Water to Clean Matting--A cloth dampened in salt water is the best thing for cleaning matting. To Lay New Matting--Cut each width six inches longer than necessary. Then unravel the ends and tie the cords together. When the matting is taken up to be cleaned it cannot unravel and there will be no waste. To Clean White Furniture or Woodwork--Use clean turpentine and a soft cloth to clean white enameled woodwork or furniture. It will remove all spots without removing any of the gloss, as soap is liable to do. To Remove Spots from Varnished Wood--Spots made by water on varnished tables or other furniture may be removed by rubbing them with a cloth wet with camphor. To Clean Greasy Woodwork--Paint or woodwork that has become greasy can be cleaned with a cloth dipped in turpentine. Then wipe with a cloth dipped in water to which a little kerosene has been added. To Clean Soiled Marble--Pound two parts of common washing soda, one part each of pumice stone and finely powdered chalk, mix together, sift them through cheesecloth, and make into a paste with water. Apply thickly and let it dry on; then wash well with soap and water and rub well with a soft cloth. Never use acids on marble as they destroy the gloss. To Clean Oil Spots from Marble, first wash the stone thoroughly; then place a sheet of blotting paper over the spots and set a hot iron on it; this will draw the oil out and the blotting paper will absorb it. Handy Fruit Picker for Farmers and Suburbanites--Take a large tomato can or other tin can and cut a V-shaped hole in one side at the top, about 1-1/2 inches wide and 2-1/2 inches deep. On the opposite side of the V-shaped hole, nail the can to a long pole. This device is useful for picking apples and many varieties of fruit from upper branches where it is almost impossible to reach them by ladder. It also prevents damage to the fruit by falling. TO REMOVE STAINS, ETC. All spots and stains can be removed much more easily before washing. Fruit stains are probably the most common and they will usually disappear if the stained portion is held taut over a basin and hot water poured over and through it. Butter or Salt for Stains--To remove fruit, tea or coffee stains from cotton or linen goods, rub butter on the stains and then wash with hot water and soap. Remove wine stains by sprinkling salt on them and then pouring boiling water through them. To Remove Indelible Ink--Use equal parts of turpentine and ammonia to remove indelible ink when all other methods fail. Saturate the garment well, and let it soak; then rinse it thoroughly in warm water. To Remove Grease Stains from White Woolens, use cream of tartar and water or alcohol. To Remove Perspiration Stains--The stains caused by perspiration can be removed from garments by the application of a mixture consisting of three parts of alcohol, three parts of ether and one of ammonia. Salt to Remove Perspiration Stains--To remove perspiration stains from clothing, soak the garments in strong salt water before laundering them. To Remove the Stain of Mud from clothing, rub well with a raw potato. To Remove Fruit Stains from Linen the following suggestions are given: (1) Fruit Stains on Linen should be smeared with glycerine and left for about an hour; then wash the stains in warm soapy water. Repeat the process if necessary. (2) To Remove Fruit Stains from Linen--Before sending table linen and white garments to the laundry all fruit stains should be well dampened with alcohol. All traces of discoloration from the fruit will have vanished when returned from the laundry. (3) To Remove Fruit Stains from the Tablecloth, apply powdered starch while fresh. Starch for Removing Blood-Stains--To remove blood-stains from material which can not be washed, cover the stain with lump starch that has been dampened to about the consistency of very thick paste. As the starch dries, the stain will go. To Remove Mildew--The four following methods are given for removing mildew: (1) Buttermilk for Mildew--Articles that have become mildewed should be boiled in buttermilk. Rinse well in warm water after boiling and hang in the sun. The same process will effectively bleach materials that have grown yellow from lack of use. (2) Salt for Mildew--Mildew can be taken out by rubbing the stains well with a fresh tomato and covering with salt; afterward place garment in sun. (3) To Take Out Mildew, mix equal parts of powdered borax and starch with half as much salt; moisten the whole with lemon juice, spread the mixture on the mildewed spot and place the garment in the sun on the grass. Renew the mixture every morning until the stain disappears. (4) Alcohol for Mildew--Mildew may generally be removed by dipping articles into alcohol. To Remove Road Oil--Kerosene is best to take out road oil on most fabrics, as it evaporates and does not injure same. To Remove Wax Stains--To remove wax or tallow stains, lay a piece of brown paper over them and apply a hot flatiron. After one or two applications the paper will absorb all of the wax or tallow from the cloth, leaving no trace behind. To Remove Tar Spots, put a little lard on the spots and let them stand for a few hours, then wash with soap and water. To Remove Iodine Stains, immediately immerse the stained article in a gallon of water to which has been added about two teaspoonfuls of plain household ammonia. To Remove Blueberry Stains--Blueberry stains may be removed by washing at once with cold water and white soap. To Remove Grease Spots--To remove automobile grease, or any dark, heavy grease, from washable fabric, apply a small piece of butter and rub it in well; then wash with soap and rinse. To Remove Tea and Coffee Stains from any white goods, soak the spots with glycerine and let them stand for several hours untouched. Afterward wash with soap and water. To Remove Grease Spots from Tablecloths, coats, trousers, etc., sandwich the article between two pieces of blotting paper and rest a hot iron over the damaged part for a few minutes. To Remove Rust Stains, the three following suggestions are given: (1) Tomato Juice for Iron Rust--Tomato juice will remove iron rust and fruit stains from wash goods. (2) Rhubarb Juice for Rust Stains--The worst rust stains can be removed without injury to the fabric by the application of boiling rhubarb juice. (3) To Remove Rust Stains--Spread the rust-stained part over a bowl of boiling water and rub it with salt wet with lemon juice; then place it in the sun. Repeat this process until the stain is light yellow; then wash the cloth in weak ammonia water and afterward in clear water. To Remove Ink Stains--The following various methods are recommended for removing ink stains: Chinese Plan for Removing Ink Stains from Clothing--Wash the article with boiled rice; rub the rice on the stain as you would soap, and wash with clear water. If first application is not effective, repeat the process. This has been found to work like magic, even with stains not discovered until entirely dry. A Sure Cure for Ink Stains--To remove ink stains from wash materials pour a tablespoonful of kerosene on them and rub well; then rinse in kerosene and the spots will immediately disappear. This should be done before being washed. To Remove Ink Stains--To remove ink stains without damage to the fabric, place the stained portion over a saucer and cover the stain with powdered borax; then pour peroxide of hydrogen over the borax. Do not pour water over the borax. The stain will disappear almost immediately. Ink Stains Can be Removed without injury to the most delicately-colored material. Mix some mustard to a thick paste and spread it over the stain. After twenty-four hours sponge thoroughly with cold water; no trace of the ink will remain. To Remove Ink from Linen After it Has Dried In--Wash out as much of the ink as possible in a pan of milk. Then put the article to soak in another pan of milk, letting it stand until the milk turns to clabber. Then wash out and not a trace of ink will remain. Ink on Carpet--If ink is spilled on the carpet, wash it out at once with sweet milk and sprinkle it with white cornmeal. Let it remain over night. The next morning sweep it up and the colors will remain bright. To Remove Ink from a Carpet, soak up as much of it as possible with blotting paper. Then saturate the spot with plenty of milk, and after some time, having removed the milk with blotting paper, rub the carpet with a clean cloth. INDEX TO GAS AND ELECTRIC SUPPLEMENT The Care and Use of Gas Appliances 1a Care of Gas Ranges 1a Use of the Range 2a Broiling and Roasting 2a Steaks and Chops 3a Fish 3a Other Foods 3a Roast Meats 3a Baking 3a Bread 3a Biscuits 4a Loaf Cake 4a Layer Cake 4a Boiling 4a Stewing 4a Toasters 5a Gas Water Heaters 5a Gas Flat Irons 6a Furnace Connections 6a All-Gas Kitchens 6a Demonstrator 6a Gas Lighting 7a Electrical Appliances 8a Electric Service in the Home 8a All-Electric Homes 8a Electric Range 9a Electric Dishwasher 9a Vacuum Cleaner 10a Sewing Machine 11a Flat Iron 11a Electric Lamps 11a Table of Comparisons 12a Residential Lighting 12a Parlor 12a Hall 12a Porch 12a Bedroom 12a Sitting-room 12a Dining-room 13a Bathroom 13a Kitchen 13a Attic 13a Cellar 13a Care of Lamps and Fixtures 13a Fixture Recommendations for the House 13a Parlor 13a Hall 14a Sitting-room and Library 14a Bedroom 14a Dining-room 14a Bathroom 14a Kitchen 14a Cellar 14a Attic 14a Clothes Press 15a General 15a Wiring Hints 15a Fuses 16a INDEX TO HOUSEHOLD HELPS Alarm Clock, To Diminish Noise of 17 Ammonia, Many Uses of 12 Ants, To Get Rid of 22 Apple Pie, To Make Tender 8 Apples, To Peel Easily 7 Baby, Choking, To Relieve 29 Baby, Restless, Hint for 30 Bacon, Proper Way to Slice 3 Bath Tub and Wash Bowl, To Clean 19 Bead Chain, An Unbreakable 29 Beans, Hint for Baking 6 Bed Springs, How to Clean 17 Beef Juice, Squeezer for 2 Beetles, To Get Rid of 7 Black Cloth and Woolen Goods, To Remove Shine from 33 Black Dress, How to Clean 33 Blankets, Woolen, To Prevent Shrinking 20 Bleaching Clothes, To Protect 25 Blister on Heel, To Prevent 26 Boiling Eggs, Hints for (four) 9 Bottles, How to Cut Off, and Their Uses 24 Bottles, Glass, How to Clean 15 Brass Beds, Polish for 17 Brass, How to Clean 32 Brass, To Keep from Tarnishing 18 Bread, Cornpopper for Toasting 2 Bread, Hint When Baking 5 Bread, To Keep Fresh 9 Bread, When Too Brown 7 Broken Glass, To Gather Up 28 Bronze Articles, To Clean 31 Brushes, Paint, How to Soften 25 Bug or Other Small Insect in Ear, Relief for 31 Burners, Gas Stove, To Clean 3 Burns, Remedy for 10, 26 Butter, How to Soften When Hard 1 Cake Flavoring, Orange Peel for 6 Cake, To Prevent Burning 4 Cake, To Prevent Sticking to Tins 6 Cake, To Remove from Tin 6 Cake, To Remove Scorch from 8 Calicoes, Dark, How to Iron 21 Canary, To Induce to Bathe 27 Candle Holders, Novelty for Children's Party 23 Candles, Economy in Use of 7 Candle, Wax, Hint Regarding 34 Carpets, Ink on, To Remove 38 Carpet, Soot on, To Remove 31 Carpets, To Brighten 18, 31 Carpet Sweeper Pulleys, Worn, To Repair 24 Carrots, Quick Way to Peel 3 Cellars, Damp or Musty, Remedy for 23 Celluloid, How to Mend 29 Chair Seats, Cane, To Tighten 27 Chapped Hands, To Prevent 2 Chicken, To Make Tender 8 Chimneys, Lamps and Wicks, Hints for (five) 12 China, Hints for Mending (four) 13 Choking Baby, To Relieve 29 Chopper, Food, Sand Soap to Sharpen 1 Clock, How to Lubricate 24 Clothes, Bleaching, To Protect 25 Clothes, To Sprinkle Quickly 21 Clothes, To Whiten When Washing 20 Clothesline, Dirty, To Clean 20 Clothespins, Grape Basket for 24 Clothing, Men's, To Clean 33 Cockroaches, To Get Rid of 7 Color, To Restore in Fabrics 22 Color, To Set in Wash Goods 22 Cooling Hot Dishes, Hint for 13 Corn Silk, To Remove from Corn 10 Cream, To Use When it is on the Turn 3 Crockery, Hints for Mending (four) 13 Curtains, Lace, New Way to Fasten 18 Curtains, Lace, To Stretch Without Frame 21 Curtains, Sash, Hint for Laundering 21 Curtains, White, To Make Ecru or Cream Color 21 Cushions, Sofa, Etc., Hint for Filling 18 Cut Glass, Polish for 18 Damp Cellars, or Musty, Remedy for 23 Dining-Chair Legs, To Protect Floors from 29 Dishcloth, Best Kind of 10 Dishes, Greasy, To Clean 4 Dishes, Loaned, To Identify 11 Dress, Black, How to Clean 33 Dust, To Prevent When Sweeping 14 Dustless Mop, How to Make 15 Earthworms in Flower Pots, To Destroy 27 Eggs, Boiling, Hints for (four) 8 Eggs, To Prevent Popping When Cooking 8 Eggs, Yolks of, To Keep Fresh 8 Egg Shells, To Remove from Cooking 8 Egg Stains, To Remove from Silver 7 Eyeglasses, How to Tighten Screws 29 Eyeglasses, To Prevent Steaming 25 Faucets, How to Polish 7 Finger Nails, To Prevent Staining 2 Fire, Kerosene, To Extinguish 3 Fish, To Prevent Breaking Up When Frying 6 Fish, Currycomb for Scaling 1 Fishbone in Throat, To Remove 30 Fish Odor, To Remove from Hands 5 Fish Taste, To Remove from Forks and Spoons 5 Flannels, To Restore When Hard or Shrunken 20 Flashlight for Sewing Machine, Use of 17 Flat-irons, To Remove Rust from 4 Flies, To Get Rid of 7 Floor, Kitchen, To Remove Grease from 10 Floor Polisher, Worn out Broom for 9 Floors, Polished, Finish for 28 Floor Wax, A Cheap and Good 23 Fly Exterminator, An Easy 28 Food, Too Salty, Remedy for 5 Food Chopper, Sand Soap to Sharpen 1 Food Chopper, To Fasten Securely 11 Fountain Pens, Leaky, Cure for 27 Fowl, To Make Tender 8 Frames, Gilt, To Clean and Remove Fly Specks from 19 Fruit Jars, To Open 1, 11 Fruit Picker, Handy, for Farmer or Suburbanite 35 Furniture, Leather, To Clean 31, 35 Furniture, To Mend Small Pieces on 19 Furniture, White Enameled, or Woodwork, To Clean 29, 34 Flowers, How to Pack for Transportation 29 Flowers, To Keep Fresh (three) 29 Gas, Good Way to Save 10 Gasoline Iron, To Protect Hand from 20 Gasoline, Hints for Cleaning With (three) 32 Gas Stove Burners, To Clean 3 Gems, Hint for Baking 6 Gems and Muffins, To Make Lighter 8 Gilt Frames, To Clean and Remove Fly Specks from 19, 31 Glass, Broken, To Gather Up 28 Glass, Drinking, Etc., To Prevent Breaking 1 Glass, Polish for 11 Glove Repair, White, Emergency 27 Grease, To Remove from Kitchen Floor 10 Greasy Woodwork, To Clean Hammock, Squeaky, Remedy for 24 Hands, Chapped, To Prevent 2 Hands, To Remove Fish Odor from 5 Hands, To Remove Odors from 7 Hands, To Remove Stains from 2 Hooks in Hardwood, How to Put in 23 Ice Cream, To Freeze Quickly 24 Ice Pick, Handy, for Emergency 23 Icy Steps, Etc., Remedy for 28 Ink Stains on Fingers, To Remove 27 Ink Stains on Linen, Carpets, Etc., To Remove 38 Ink Stains on Oak Table, To Remove 31 Insect in Ear, Relief for 31 Insects, To Remove from Vegetables When Washing 11 Insects, Plant, To Destroy 33 Insoles from Old Felt 23 Insomnia, Cure for 26 Invalid's Room, Perfume for 25 Iron, Gasoline, To Protect Hand from 20 Ironing Over Buttons, Etc., Hint for 22 Iron Stand, Brick for 20 Kerosene Fire, To Extinguish 3 Kerosene for Water Bugs 1 Kettles and Pans, Greasy, To Clean 2 Kitchen Floor, Etc., Finish for 14 Kitchen Memoranda, Tablet or Slate for 11 Knife Handles, White, To Clean 14 Labels, Paper, To Remove 25 Lace Curtains, New Way to Fasten 18 Lace Curtains, To Stretch Without Frame 21 Lamps, Wicks and Chimneys, Hints for (Five) 12 Leather Furniture, To Clean 31 Leather Upholstery, Polish for 19 Lemons, To Increase Juice from 3 Lemons, Old, To Freshen 9 Lid, To Keep on Boiling Pot 5 Linen, To Make Glossy 21 Linen, To Remove Stains from 35 - 38 Linoleum, To Clean 16 Linoleum, Varnish and Polish for 16 Loaned Dishes, To Identify 11 Macaroni, Two New Uses for 30 Machine Oil, To Prevent Soiling Goods 16 Marble, To Clean Soil or Oil Spots from 34 Match Scratcher, Novel and Useful 27 Matting, How to Clean and Lay 34 Meat, Roast, To Prevent Drying Out 5 Meat, To Make Tender 5 Meat, To Prevent Scorching 8 Mending China and Crockery, Hints for (four) 13 Mica in Stove Doors, To Clean 13 Mice, To Get Rid of 26 Mildew in Leather, To Remove 26 Mildew in Cloth, To Remove (four) 39 Mirrors, To Clean 19 Mixing Board, Best Kind of 4 Moth Preventive 31 Moths in Carpet, To Destroy 31 Moths, To Keep Out of Piano 31 Mucilage, Dried, To Restore 25 Muffins and Gems, To Make Lighter 8 Mushrooms, How to Judge 6 Nails in Plaster, To Drive Without Damage 30 Newspapers, Old, Use for 3 Nuts, Pecan, How to Crack 2 Odor, Perspiration, To Remove 25 Odors, To Remove from Hands 7 Oil Lamps, Wicks and Chimneys, Hints for (five) 12 Oil, Machine, To Prevent Soiling Goods 16 Oil Spots, Sewing Machine, To Remove 17 Onion Smell, To Remove from Pans 5 Onions, To Prevent Eyes Watering When Peeling 5 Paint Brushes, How to Soften 25 Pans and Kettles, Greasy, To Clean 2 Pastry, To Prevent Burning 4 Pecan Nuts, How to Crack 2 Pen or Brush Holder, Handy, for Desk 27 Perspiration of Hands When Sewing, To Prevent 16 Perspiration Odor, To Remove 25 Picture Glass, How to Clean 18 Picture Nail, To Mark Place for 28 Pictures, Hint for Taking from Wall 29 Pie Crust, To Make Flaky 8 Pies, Wire Rack for Cooling 4 Plant Insects, To Destroy 33 Poison, To Avoid Mistakes With 28 Polisher for Stove When Hot 4 Postage Stamps, How to Separate 25 Potatoes, Sweet, To Peel Easily 4 Pots, Hint for Cleaning 6 Raincoat, How to Clean (two) 30 Rats, To Rid House of 26 Refrigerator, To Keep Sweet 1 Rice, Hint for Boiling 6 Roasted Meat, To Prevent Drying Out 5 Rocking Chair, To Prevent Creeping Over Floor 28 Rugs, To Prevent Slipping on Floor 27 Rust and Stains in Tinware, To Remove and Prevent 11, 14 Rust, To Remove from Flat-irons 4 Salty Food, Remedy for 5 Sash Curtains, Hint for Laundering 21 Scalds, Remedy for 10 Scissors, To Sharpen 16 Scorch, To Remove from Cake 8 Scorched Spot, To Bleach 21 Scorched Vegetables, Etc., Remedy for 7 Screws and Nails, Rusty, To Loosen 23 Serge Skirt, Shabby, To Renovate 32 Sewing Machine Belt, To Tighten 16 Sewing Machine Oil Spots, To Remove 17 Shine on Woolen Goods and Black Cloth, To Remove 33 Shoe Lace, New Tag for 32 Shoes or Boots, To Make Them Take Polish 32 Shoes, White Kid, To Clean 32 Silver, Hint for Washing 4 Silver, To Remove Egg Stains from 7 Silver, Tarnished, To Clean 14 Skirts, Right Way to Hang 21 Smoke Marks on Ceiling, To Remove 30 Sofa Cushions, Etc., Hint for Filling 18 Soot on Carpet, To Remove 31 Soup, Best Way to Strain 2 Spectacles, To Prevent Steaming 25 Spiders, To Get Rid of 7 Spilled Water in Sick Bed, Remedy for 17 Sponge, To Clean and Purify 20 Spots on Varnished Wood, To Remove 34 Sprain, To Relieve 26 Stains, All Kinds, To Remove 35 - 38 Stain, Cheap, for Wood Floors 16 Stains, To Remove from Hands 2 Stains Under Finger Nails, To Prevent 2 Stamps, Postage, How to Separate 25 Starch, To Prevent Sticking to Iron 20 Stockings, To Pair 17 Stockings, To Prevent Cutting by Elastic 17 Stove, Polisher for Hot 4 Sweeping, To Prevent Dust When 14 Sweet Potatoes, To Peel Easily 4 Tea Caddy, Orange or Lemon Peel for 3 Teakettle, To Keep from Rusting 3 Teapot, To Prevent Musty 3 Tinware Stains or Rust, To Remove or Prevent 11, 14 Toasting Bread, Cornpopper for 2 Tomatoes, To Skin Easily 4 Turkey, To Make Tender 8 Umbrella Jars, Hint for 24 Upholstery, Leather, Polish for 19 Varnished Floors, Polish for 16 Varnished Wood, To Remove Spots from 34 Vase, Slender, To Clean 9 Vases, or Bric-a-Brac, Leaky, To Mend 28 Vegetables, To Remove Insects When Washing 11 Velveteen, Two Uses for 28 Wall Paper, To Make Waterproof 16 Wall Paper Remover and Cleaner, Recipes for 33 Walls, Broken, How to Mend 30 Wash or Lavatory Basins, To Open Clogged 19 Water, Spilled in Sick Bed, Remedy for 17 Water, To Soften for Washing and Toilet Purposes 20 Water Bottles, To Clean 9 Water Bugs, Kerosene for 1 Watery Eyes, To Prevent When Peeling Onions 5 Wax for Floors, A Cheap and Good 23 Weeds, To Kill 26 White Curtains, To Make Ecru or Cream Color 21 White Glove Repair, Emergency 27 White Kid Articles, To Clean 32 Window Cleaning Hints (six) 15 Wood Floors, Cheap Stain for 16 Woodwork, Greasy, To Clean 34 Woodwork, White Enameled, To Clean 34 Woolen Blankets, To Prevent Shrinking 20 Worms, Earth, in Flower Pots, To Destroy 27 Wringer Rollers, To Clean 21 Zinc, How to Clean 31 
16650	----	[Frontispiece: A $3,400 House.] The COMPLETE HOME EDITED BY CLARA E. LAUGHLIN D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK 1907 Copyright, 1906, by D. APPLETON AND COMPANY _Published November, 1906_ CONTENTS CHAPTER I CHOOSING A PLACE TO LIVE By OLIVER R. WILLIAMSON Taste and expedience--Responsibilities--Renting, buying or building--Location--City or country--Renunciations--Schools and churches--Transportation--The butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker--The home acre--Comparative cost in renting--The location sense--Size of lot--Position--Outlook and inlook--Trees--Income and expenditure--Style--Size--Plans for building--Necessary rooms--The sick room--Room to entertain--The "living room"--The dining room and kitchen--The sleeping rooms--Thinking it out CHAPTER II FLOORS, WALLS, AND WINDOWS By OLIVER R. WILLIAMSON The necessity of good floors--Material and cost of laying--Ornamental flooring--Waxed, varnished, and oiled floors--Carpets, linoleum, and mats--The stairway--Rugs--Oriental rugs--Kitchen and upper floors--Matting and cardoman cloth--Uses of the decorator--Wood in decoration--Panels and plaster--The beamed ceiling--Paint, paper, and calcimine--Shades and curtains--Leaded panes and casements--Storm windows CHAPTER III LIGHTING AND HEATING By OLIVER R. WILLIAMSON Necessity of sunlight--Kerosene--Gas and matches--Electric light--Pleasing arrangement--Adaptability--Protection--Regulated light--The two sure ways of heating--The hot-air furnace--Direction of heat--Registers--Hot water and steam heat--Indirect heating--Summary CHAPTER IV FURNITURE By OLIVER R. WILLIAMSON The quest of the beautiful--Ancient designs--The Arts and Crafts--Mission furniture--Comfort, aesthetic and physical--Older models in furniture--Mahogany and oak--Substantiality--Superfluity--Hall furniture--The family chairs--The table--The davenport--Bookcases--Sundries--Willow furniture--The dining table--Discrimination in choice CHAPTER V HOUSEHOLD LINEN By SARAH CORY RIPPEY Linen, past and present--Bleached and "half-bleached"--Damask--Quality--Design--Price and size--Necessary supply--Plain, hemstitched, or drawn--Doilies and table dressing--Centerpieces--Monograms--Care of table linen--How to launder--Table pads--Ready-made bed linen--Price and quality--Real linen--Suggestions about towels CHAPTER VI THE KITCHEN By SARAH CORY RIPPEY The plan--Location and finish--The floor--The windows--The sink--The pantry--Insects and their extermination--The refrigerator and its care--Furnishing the kitchen--The stove--The table and its care--The chairs--The kitchen cabinet--Kitchen utensils CHAPTER VII THE LAUNDRY By SARAH CORY RIPPEY Laundry requisites--The stove and furnishings--Irons and holders--Preparing the "wash"--Removing stains--Soaking and washing--Washing powders and soap--Washing woolens--Washing the white clothes--Starch--Colored clothes--Stockings--Dainty laundering--How to wash silk--Washing blankets--Washing curtains--Tidying up and sprinkling--Care of irons--How to iron CHAPTER VIII TABLE FURNISHINGS By SARAH CORY RIPPEY Dining-room cheer--Stocking the china-cupboard--The groundwork--Course sets--Odd pieces--Silver and plate--Glass--Arrangement--Duties of the waitress--The breakfast table--Luncheon--Dinner--The formal dinner--The formal luncheon--Washing glass--Washing and cleaning silver--How to wash china--Care of knives CHAPTER IX THE BEDROOM By SARAH CORY RIPPEY Light and air--Carpets versus rugs--Mattings--Wall covering--Bedroom woodwork--Bedroom draperies--Bedroom furnishing--Careful selection--Toilet and dressing tables--Further comforts--The bedstead--Spring, mattress, and pillows--Bed decoration--Simplicity--Care of bedroom and bed--Vermin and their extermination CHAPTER X THE BATH ROOM By OLIVER R. WILLIAMSON Plumbing--Bath room location and furnishing--The tub--The lavatory--The closet--Hot water and how to get it--Bath room fittings CHAPTER XI CELLAR, ATTIC, AND CLOSETS By SARAH CORY RIPPEY The cellar floor--Ventilation--The partitioned cellar--Order in the cellar--Shelves and closets--The attic--Order and care of attic--Closets--The linen closet--Clothes closets--The china closet--Closet tightness--Closet furnishings--Care of closets and contents CHAPTER XII HANGINGS, BRIC-A-BRAC, BOOKS, AND PICTURES By SARAH CORY RIPPEY The charm of drapery--Curtains--Portières--Bric-a-brac--The growth of good taste--Usefulness with beauty--Considerations in buying--Books--Their selection--Sets--Binding--Paper--Pictures--Art sense--The influence of pictures--Oil paintings--Engravings and photographs--Suitability of subjects--Hanging of pictures CHAPTER XIII THE NICE MACHINERY OF HOUSEKEEPING By SARAH CORY RIPPEY Monday--Tuesday--Wednesday--Thursday--Friday--Saturday--House cleaning--Preparation--Cleaning draperies, rugs, carpets--Cleaning mattings and woodwork--Cleaning beds CHAPTER XIV HIRED HELP By SARAH CORY RIPPEY The general housemaid--How to select a maid--Questions and answers--Agreements--The maid's leisure time--Dress and personal neatness--Carelessness--The maid's room--How to train a maid--The daily routine--Duties of cook and nurse--Servant's company LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS A $3,400 House. . . . . . . . Frontispiece A Unique Arrangement of the Porch A Homelike Living Room An Attractive and Inexpensive Hall An Artistic Staircase Hall An Oriental Rug of Good Design: Shirvan Good Examples of Chippendale and Old Walnut A Chippendale Secretary The Dining Room The Kitchen The Laundry Wedgwood Pottery, and Silver of Antique Design A Collection of Eighteenth-century Cut Glass The Bedroom The Bathroom The Drawing-room THE COMPLETE HOME CHAPTER I CHOOSING A PLACE TO LIVE Blessed indeed are they who are free to choose where and how they shall live. Still more blessed are they who give abundant thought to their choice, for they may not wear the sackcloth of discomfort nor scatter the ashes of burned money. TASTE AND EXPEDIENCE Most of us have a theory of what the home should be, but it is stowed away with the wedding gifts of fine linen that are cherished for our permanent abode. We believe in harmony of surroundings, but after living, within a period of ten years or so, in seven different apartments with seven different arrangements of rooms and seven different schemes of decoration, we lose interest in suiting one thing to another. Harmony comes to mean simply good terms with the janitor. Or if (being beginners) we have some such prospect of nomadic living facing us, and we are at all knowing, we realize the utter helplessness of demonstrating our good taste, purchase any bits of furniture that a vagrant fancy may fasten upon, and give space to whatever gimcracks our friends may foist upon us, trusting that in the whirligig of removals the plush rocker, the mission table, and the brass parlor stand may each find itself in harmony with something else at one time or another. Some day we shall be freed from the tyranny of these conditions and then----! RESPONSIBILITIES But when the time comes to declare our independence of landlord and janitor, or at least to exchange existence in a flat for life in a rented cottage, we find that freedom brings some perplexing responsibilities as well as its blessings. Even if our hopes do not soar higher than the rented house, there is at least the desire for a reasonable permanency, and we have no longer the excuse of custom-bred transitoriness to plead for our lack of plan. Where the home is to be purchased for our very own the test of our individuality becomes more exacting. A house has character, and some of the standards that apply to companionship apply to it. In fact, we live with it, as well as in it. And if we have a saving conscience as to the immeasurability of home by money standards we are not to be tempted by the veriest bargain of a house that does not nearly represent our ideals. To blunder here is to topple over our whole Castle of Hope. RENTING, BUYING OR BUILDING But the test is most severe of all when good fortune permits us to choose locality, site, and building plans, and to finish and furnish the house to suit our tastes, even though less in accordance with our full desires than with our modest means. Now we may bring out our theory of living from its snug resting place. It will need some furbishing up, maybe, to meet modern conditions, but never mind! Whether we mean to rent, to buy, or to build, the problem of where and what and how is before us. As folk of wholesome desires, we insist first of all upon good taste, comfort, and healthfulness in our habitats; and since we may agree upon the best way to attain these essentials without ignoring our personal preferences in details, we may profitably take counsel together as to what the new home should be. LOCATION Thought of a location should begin with the birth of the home idea, even if the purchase-money be not immediately available. We should not only take sufficient time to study conditions and scheme carefully for the home, but must sagaciously bear in mind that where real estate is in active demand anxiety to purchase stiffens prices. To bide one's time may mean a considerable saving. However, life, as we plan now to live it, is short enough at most, and we should not cheat ourselves out of too much immediate happiness by waiting for the money-saving opportunity. The question of neighborhood, if we decide to remain within city limits, is a difficult one. In most of the larger places no one can accurately foretell the future of even the most attractive residence district. Factories and business houses may not obtrude, but flats are almost sure to come. Few cottages are being constructed in cities, partly because of lack of demand, but principally because they do not pay sufficient income on the investment. Consequently the houses that are to be had are seldom modern. Sometimes they pass into the hands of careless tenants and the neighborhood soon shows deterioration. Still, if we are determined to remain in the city and take our chances, it is possible by careful investigation to discover congenial surroundings. Many of the essential tests of the suburban home that we shall discuss hereafter will apply also to the house in a strictly residence district of a large city; practically all of them to the house in a smaller town. CITY OR COUNTRY The chances are, however, that we shall choose the suburb. But before we desert J 72, or whatever our shelf in the apartment building may be, we may well remind ourselves that we are also to desert some of the things that have made city life enjoyable. For one thing, with all our growling at the landlord, we have been able to cast upon him many burdens that we are now to take upon ourselves. Some of our sarcasms are quite certain to come home to roost. The details of purchasing fuel, of maintaining heat, of making repairs, are now to come under our jurisdiction, and we shall see whether we manage these duties better than the man who is paid a lump sum to assume them. RENUNCIATIONS Living in a flat, or even in a city house, we do not know, nor care to know, who the people above or next door to us may be; and they are in precisely the same position with regard to us. Mere adjacency gives us no claim upon their acquaintance, nor does it put us at the mercy of their insistence. Our calling list is not governed by locality, and we can cut it as we wish without embarrassment. Choice is not so easy in the suburb. There, willynilly, we must know our neighbors and be known by them. Fortunately, in most instances they will be found to be of the right sort, if not fully congenial. The theater, too, must become rather a red-letter diversion than a regular feature of our existence, if it has been so. Whatever enthusiasm we may possess for the opera, an occasional visit, with its midnight return, will soon come to satisfy us. Our pet lectures, club life, participation in public affairs, frequent mail delivery, convenience of shopping, two-minute car service, and freedom from time tables--these suggest what we have to put behind us when we pass the city gates. It is also the part of wisdom not to forget that, though the country is alive with delights for us when all nature is garbed in green and the songbirds carol in the elms and maples, there cometh a time--if we are of the north--when fur caps are in season, the coal scoop is in every man's hand, the snow shovel splintereth, and the lawn mower is at rest. Then it is that our allegiance to country life will be strained, if ever--particularly if we have provided ourselves with a ten-minute walk to the station. Wading through snow against a winter wind, we see the "agreeable constitutional" of the milder days in a different light. We should think of all these things, and of some sacrifices purely personal. It is better to think now than after the moving man's bill has come in. Reason as we may, regrets will come, perhaps loneliness. But the compensations, if we have chosen wisely, will be increasingly apparent, and we shall be the very exceptions of exceptions if, before the second summer has passed, we are not wedded beyond divorce to the new home. Once determined upon forswearing urban residence, a multitude of considerations arise. First of these is "Which place?" Our suburban towns have been developed in two ways. Some are "made to order," while others were originally rural villages but have come under metropolitan influence. Living in the latter is likely to be less expensive, and local life may have more of a distinctive character; but the husk of the past is almost certain to be evident in the mixture of old and modern houses and in a certain offish separation of the native and incoming elements. The "made-to-order" town is likely to exhibit better streets and sidewalks, to be more capably cared for, to be freer from shanties, and to possess no saloons. Land and living may demand greater expenditure, but they will be worth the difference. SCHOOLS AND CHURCHES With ninety-nine out of a hundred families the deciding argument in favor of going to the suburb has just got into short dresses and begun to say "Da-da." Already we see pointings to the childish activities that we would not check. No one who stops to think about it chooses to have his children play in the city streets or be confined to a flat during the open months. For the children's sake, if not for our own, we turn to the country, and one of our first thoughts is for the children's school. I called on a young business acquaintance recently and found him engrossed in examining a pile of college catalogues. "Going in for a post-grad?" I inquired. "Why, haven't you heard?" he responded. "It's a boy--week ago Saturday. Er--would you say Yale or Harvard?" This was preparedness with a vengeance, to be sure; but almost before we realize that infancy is past, the boy and girl will be ready for school, and it is important to know that the right school will be ready for them. Happily, the suburban school is usually of special excellence, and the chief thought must be of distance and whether the children will need to cross dangerous railroad tracks. We shall, of course, wish to be where there are strong churches, with a society of our chosen denomination, if possible. It may be that the social life which has its center there will provide all the relaxation we require; if we seek outside circles, it is desirable to know whether we are likely to please and be pleased. Always there is the suburban club; but not always is the suburban club representative of the really best people of the town. TRANSPORTATION On the practical side a question of large importance is that of transportation. The fast trains may make the run in twenty minutes, but we shall not always catch the fast trains, and the others may take forty. Morning and evening they should be so frequent that we need not lose a whole hour on a "miss." In stormy weather we must find shelter in the station, comfortable or uncomfortable. On the husband's monthly ticket the rides may cost only a dime; when the wife and her visiting friends go to the matinée each punch counts for a quarter, and four quarters make a dollar. To the time of the train must be added the walk or ride from the downtown station to the office, and the return walk from the home station. A near-by electric line for emergencies may sometimes save an appointment. None of these things alone will probably give pause to our plans, but all will weigh in our general satisfaction or disagreement with suburban life. THE BUTCHER, THE BAKER, AND THE CANDLE-STICK MAKER Not every suburb is blessed with a perfectly healthful water supply. We must make sure of that. We want to find stores and markets sufficient to our smaller needs, at least, and to be within city delivery bounds, so that the man of the house shall not be required to make of himself a beast of burden. We hope, if we must employ a cook, that the milkman, iceman, and grocery boy will prove acceptable to her, for the policeman is sure to be a dignified native of family. We want the telephone without a prohibitive toll, electric light and gas of good quality at reasonable rates, streets paved and well cared for, sidewalks of cement, reasonable fire and police protection, a progressive community spirit, and a reputation for our town that will make us proud to name it as our place of abode. THE HOME ACRE All these things may be had in scores of American suburbs and smaller cities. But when we have selected the one or more towns that may please us, and get down to the house or lot, our range of choice will be found rather narrow. In the neighborhoods we would select, it is probable that few houses are to be rented. Most of them have been built for occupancy by their owners, who, if forced to go elsewhere, have preferred selling to renting. There is no prejudice against renters, but the sentiment is against renting, and this sentiment is well grounded in common sense. Still, some families find it advisable to rent for a year or so, meanwhile studying the local conditions and selecting a building site. This plan has much to commend it, though it makes a second move necessary. Others, who do not feel assured that a change in business will not compel an early removal, wisely prefer to rent, if a suitable house can be found for what they can afford to pay. COMPARATIVE COST IN RENTING The proportion of income that may be set aside for rent depends on what that payment covers. In a steam-heated city flat with complete janitor service, for instance, the rent at $40 is really no higher than the $25 suburban house, for heat and water rent are included. With the former, perhaps as much as a third of one's income could be spared for the fixed charge of rent; but in the country the proportion cannot with safety be greater than a fifth. Few satisfactory suburban houses can be rented under $35, and to this must be added the cost not only of coal and water, but of maintenance. On the whole, we are pretty sure to decide that it is better and cheaper to buy than to rent. THE LOCATION SENSE There is some advantage in being able to secure a lot in a square already built up. If present conditions are satisfactory we may feel reasonably sure that they will remain so. We know who our neighbors are to be, the sort of houses and other improvements that will affect the sightliness and value of our own property, and the surroundings that should in some degree govern the style of our abode. There is little of the speculative in such a choice, but we shall have to pay something extra for our assurances. In a well built-up town, however, we are likely to find a more eligible natural site at less cost if we are not too insistent upon being close to the railway station. The best sites in the older sections are already occupied or are held at a premium. If we have an eye for location and the courage of our convictions, we may chance upon an excellent lot that can be had for a comparatively small price because of its detachment. It may be so situated that the approach is through the choicest part of the village, affording us much of the charm of suburban life without additional cost. Provided sewer, water, light, sidewalks, and paving are in, a little greater distance from the center may be well repaid by the beauty of the site, and after the family becomes accustomed to it the distance is scarcely noticed. Where there are telephones and local delivery of mail and groceries, occasions for going uptown are not frequent. SIZE OF LOT The lot should have at least 50 foot frontage; and be from 150 to 200 feet in depth. Many subdivisions are now platted without alleys, which are not desirable unless scrupulously maintained. The site should, if practicable, be on a plateau or elevation that gives an outlook, or at least make natural drainage certain. A lot below street level means expensive filling to be done. POSITION There can be little question as to the special desirability of an east frontage. With this exposure the morning sunlight falls upon the living room when least in use, while the afternoon glare finds the principal work of the kitchen accomplished. The indispensable veranda on the east and south is also usable for a maximum portion of the day, while the more solid side of the structure, being opposed to the prevailing winter winds, makes the heating problem easier. [Illustration: A unique arrangement of the porch.] OUTLOOK AND INLOOK Though we should not pay too much premium for an east front, it is always most salable, and the difference will come back if we should dispose of the property later. Outlook and protection against being shut in should be assured. Our own property may be "gilt edge," but if the man across the way has backed up a barn or chicken yard in front of us our joy in life will be considerably lessened. Our home is both to look at and to look out from, and we do more of the latter than of the former. There are only two ways to make sure of not being shut in, unless the adjacent lots are already improved. These are to buy enough ground to give space on either side, or to secure a corner. Sometimes a corner at a higher price is the cheaper in the end. Certainly it is advisable, even though our own house be not high-priced, to discover if there is a building restriction to prevent the erection of cheap structures near by. This is regulated usually by a stipulation in the deeds from the original subdivider. Without this guaranty even a high price for lots does not insure that some fellow who has put most of his money into the ground may not put up a woodshed next door and live in it until he can build a house. We shall not find it amiss either, to know something of the character of the owners of the adjoining property, for if they are real-estate men there is a probability of their putting up houses built to sell. Non-resident owner may be expected to allow their vacant lots to remain unkempt and to object to all improvement assessments. TREES Trees on the lot are a valuable asset, though dislike for sacrificing them, if carried too far, may result in shutting out the sunlight that is more essential than shade to health. Cottonwood, willows, and even the pretty catalpa are to be shunned in the interest of tidiness. On a 50- or even 100-foot lot we cannot have many trees without overshadowing the house. A few away from the building, not crowded together, will give more satisfaction than a grove and be less a detriment to health. Ordinarily grass will not grow to advantage where there is much shade; and a beautiful lawn, though open to the sunlight, is not only more attractive but much more serviceable than ground in heavy shadow and covered with sparse grass. INCOME AND EXPENDITURE Prices of vacant property in different sections vary so greatly that one cannot safely approximate the cost of a building lot. It is safe to say, though, that if values are figured on a proper basis, a satisfactory site for a moderate-priced home can be purchased for $1,000 in the town of our choice. We have made it clear to ourselves that a home--anyone's home--should be much more than a house plumped down upon any bit of ground that will hold it. When we come to consider the house itself, we are confronted by the knowledge that here the tastes and habits, as well as the size and resources of the family, must govern the decision of many problems considered. Numbers alone are not always a fair guide, for sometimes the man or the woman of the house, or the baby, counts for much more than one in figuring space requirements. We have in mind here that we are a family of four, that we have an income of from $1,500 to $2,500, and that we are prepared to spend or obligate ourselves to spend from $2,000 to $3,500 for a house to go on a lot to cost $1,000. The house we think of would be not too large for two and certainly would comfortably accommodate five or even six, depending upon their relations to one another. The extremes of income mentioned would scarcely affect our plans, and the difference in cost is accounted for by the choice of nonessentials and not by differences in the principal features of the house. STYLE Now, if we have already set our hearts upon having a house just like that "love of a place" we saw in Wayout-on-the-Hill the other day, we shall have to reconsider the entire lot proposition. We may as well face the fact that the house which is everything appropriate and artistic in one place may in another be simply grotesque. In this phase of the selective work we will profit by the advice of the architect, if he be something of an artist and not simply a draughtsman. At any rate, if we have the lot, let us decide what style of house should be on it; if we are surely settled upon the house, then by all means let us get a lot it will fit--and have a care, too, with regard to the style of architecture (or lack of it) in our prospective neighbors' houses. There have been two extremes in later American home architecture--overornamentation and absolute disregard for appearance. The first arose from a feeling that every dollar spent in the interest of art (!) should be so gewgawed to the outer world that all who passed might note the costliness and wonder. The second extreme had its birth in an elementary practicality that believes anything artistic must be both extravagant and useless. None of us can afford to build a house merely for its artistic qualities. Yet we feel that we owe it to our neighbors and to the community to make the house sightly. Most of all, we owe it to ourselves, for the product of our plans will be the concrete expression of our personality. Fortunately showiness is neither necessary nor desirable; while artistic qualities are not so much a matter of money as of thought. A few days ago, in a suburb of a Western city, I passed two houses recently constructed. One was simply an enlarged drygoods box with a few windows and doors broken into its sides--altogether a hideous disfigurement to the charming spot on which it was erected. Across the way stood the other cottage, with the same number of rooms as its _vis-à-vis_, but really exquisite in its simple beauty. And the latter, I was told, though equally spacious, cost less than the monstrosity across the way! Into the one, there was put thought; into the other none. Can we resist an opinion as to which home will be happier? SIZE Should we be somewhat limited in funds, we may have to make a selection between a large house finished in cheaper materials and a small house of the best quality all through. Doubtless much of the "hominess" that attaches us to some houses is due to their snugness, but not all of it. Size is secondary to adaptation to the family requirements. Waste space is an abomination, because it adds unnecessarily to the burden of the housekeeper; yet to be so cramped that everything must be moved every day is not a satisfactory alternative. There should be some reserve not only for emergencies but for future needs that may be foreseen. As the children grow up they will demand more room, and we shall want to give it to them. If we do not care to maintain surplus space for possible needs, the house should at least be planned with a view to making additions that will be in keeping with the general effect and will readily fall in with the practical arrangement of the house. What is said about emergency space applies principally to the sleeping apartments. There is an altogether happy tendency in these days to simplify the living rooms and to plan them for constant use. We of the East have something to learn from the Californians, whose bungalows and cottages are so often models of simplicity without the crudeness of most small houses in other sections. Our coast brethren have demonstrated that a four- or five-room cottage will satisfactorily house a considerable family, and that it may be given the characteristics that charm without increasing the cost. PLANS FOR BUILDING The simplest and in many instances the prettiest cottages are of only a single story. But more than four rooms in one story makes a comparatively expensive house, besides using up a great deal of ground. With the foundation, first story, and roof provided for, the second story adds little to the cost compared to the space gained. Where ground and labor are cheap the single story is to be considered; but in most places it would not be practicable for us. In planning the house due regard must be had for the dispositions of the respective members of the family. In any event we shall not please all of them, but the less the others have to complain about the happier the rest of us shall be. NECESSARY ROOMS If paterfamilias is accustomed to depositing his apparel and other belongings rather promiscuously about, expecting to find things where they were left on his return in the evening, it may be better to plan his room where it may stand undisturbed rather than to attempt the breaking of a habit which shows that he feels at home in his own house. Likewise, some place there should be where the mistress may conduct her sewing operations without wildly scrambling to clean up when the doorbell rings; the children should have at least one place in the house where they may "let loose" on a rainy day, and the master should have somewhere a retreat safe from interruption, as well as a workroom in the basement in which the tools and implements that quickly accumulate in a country home may be secure. THE SICK ROOM Sickness, too, may come, and the questions of privacy without an unwholesome curb upon both children and adults, of convenience to hot water and the bathroom, of saving steps for the nurse, should be thought of. An upstairs chamber is likely to be best on account of the ventilation, lighting, and distance from ordinary noises; but frequent journeys to the kitchen mean an excess of stair climbing. Whether there be sickness or not, there should be somewhere provision for individual privacy, where absolute rest may be gained. A large indulgence in entertaining must have its influence in settling both size and arrangement. Ordinarily, however, we may expect to be reasonably hospitable without enlarging our home into a clubhouse. If we do not consider this matter in building, propriety must compel us afterwards to limit our company to numbers that we can comfortably care for. ROOM TO ENTERTAIN A good many of us who have contrived very nicely to live in a six-room city flat seem to think that we cannot get along with that number of rooms in a suburban house, though the latter would be considerably more spacious, not taking the basement into account. So far, however, as absolute essentials go, a six-room house, carefully planned, will provide for a family of four very comfortably, and it can be built in an artistic and modern style for $2,500 near Chicago, about ten per cent. more in the vicinity of New York, and probably for a less sum in smaller cities. An eight-room house would cost about a third more, and is, of course, in many ways more desirable. But, generally speaking, we demand more room than we really need, and then put ourselves to additional expense filling up the space with unnecessary furniture. THE "LIVING ROOM" In small houses there cannot be great variation in the proportioning of space, but it is important that the use of each room should be well understood and that it should be planned accordingly. If that is not done our decorative and furnishing schemes later on will be misapplied. Families differ as to their dispositions toward rooms. Most of us would not think of calling for an old-fashioned parlor in a small house nowadays, but merely to change the name from "parlor" to "living room" doesn't change our habits. The living room is meant to take the place of parlor, library, reception hall, and sitting room. If the family adjust themselves to it a great saving of space is effected, and the home life is given added enjoyment. Not all of us, however, can fit ourselves to new ideas, and it is better to suit ourselves than to be uncomfortable and feel out of place in the home. [Illustration: A homelike living room.] The living-room plan in a small house reduces the reception hall to something little more than a vestibule, but where six rooms are exceeded the reception hall may be enlarged and made serviceable. The first impression counts for much, not only with our guests but with ourselves, and if the hall be appropriately finished and fitted it seems fairly to envelop one with its welcome. One thing that must be insured, whatever form the entrance may take, is that it shall not be necessary to pass through the living room to reach other parts of the house. THE DINING ROOM AND KITCHEN Vastness is not essential to the dining room. Under usual conditions we are not likely to seat more than a dozen persons at our table, and a dinner party exceeding that number is too large for common enjoyment. Connection with the kitchen should be convenient without having the proximity too obvious. City kitchens are now usually made just large enough to accommodate required paraphernalia and to afford sufficient freeway for the cook. Many families do no home baking, and where fruit and vegetables are preserved the basement is utilized. Compactness in the kitchen saves hundreds of steps in the course of a day, and though it is difficult for us to forget the spacious room thought necessary by our parents, we may well learn, for our own comfort, to profit by the modern reasoning that opposes waste space. Still, it is better to defy modern tendencies and even to pain the architect than that the faithful house-keeper who clings tenaciously to the old idea should be made miserable. Some persons feel perpetually cramped in a small room, whereas others only note the snugness of it. THE SLEEPING ROOMS The general well-being of the family is more directly affected by the character of the bed chambers than by any other department of the house. However we may permit ourselves to be skimped in the living rooms, it is imperative that the sleeping apartments should be large--not barnlike, of course--well lighted, dry, and airy. Three large rooms are in every way preferable to four small ones. It is, to be sure, sometimes difficult to put the windows where they will let in the sunlight, the registers where they will heat, and the wall space where it will permit the sleeper to have fresh air without a draught. But marvels in the way of ingenious planning have been evolved where necessity, the mother of invention, has ruled; and assuredly there is no greater necessity than a healthful bedroom. The children's bedroom in the house of six to eight rooms is likely to be utilized as a nursery or playroom on rainy days or in winter. It should have an abundance of sunlight. The largest and best room of all should be used by the heads of the household. To reserve the choicest apartment for the chance guest is an absurdity that sensible people have abandoned. If we must, we may surrender our room temporarily to the visitor, but the persons who live in a house twelve months of the year are entitled to the best it affords. Flat living has taught us to make use of all our rooms, and perhaps its influence is against hospitality; but we need not neglect that very important feature of a happy home in doing ourselves simple justice. THINKING IT OUT If we would be quite sure of it--to use a Hibernianism--we should live in our house at least a year before it is built. We need an imagination that will not only perceive our castle in all its stages of construction but will picture us in possession. Advice is not to be disdained, and a good architect we shall find to be a blessing; but the happiness of our home will be in double measure if we can feel that something of ourselves has gone into its creation. And this something we should not expect to manifest genius, or even originality, but tasteful discrimination. CHAPTER II FLOORS, WALLS, AND WINDOWS Tradition has established the condition of her floors as the prime test of a good house-keeper, and the amount of effort that faithful homemakers have had to waste upon splintery, carelessly laid cheap boards would, if it could be represented in money, buy marble footing for all of us. But we don't want marble floors. We are not building a palace or a showplace, but a house to live in. We are not seeking magnificence, but comfort and durability (which are almost always allied), as well as sightliness (which is not always in the combination). THE NECESSITY OF GOOD FLOORS Happily, when we come to floors we find that those which may be depended upon to endure and to give their share of home comfort are also the best to look upon. It would be agreeable to say, further, that they cost least, but that would be misleading. This book fails to say not a few things that would be interesting but which wouldn't be of much real use to the homemaker, because they aren't so. Leaving the everlastingly pestiferous question of cost aside, what is the best all-around flooring? Well, so far no one has been able to suggest anything that seems so appropriate as a good quality of hard wood--which means oak or maple, or both--properly treated and, above all, laid down as it should be. The flooring is a permanent part of the house, or, if it isn't, we'll certainly wish it had been. As it is subject to harder and more constant usage than any other part of the structure, it must be strong, and it must have a surface that will resist wear, or we shall simply store up trouble for the future. It is also a part of the decorative scheme, and as such must help to furnish the keynote of our plans. All these requirements are met by hard wood. It is possible, we may admit, to have a happy and comfortable home with cheaper flooring; but the price that is not paid in money will be afterwards collected with interest in effort and sacrifice of satisfaction. Doubtless it is not wise, as some one suggests, to put so much money into our floors that we cannot afford to buy anything to put on them; but in many instances the appearance of our house interiors would be much more pleasing if fewer pieces of superfluous furniture were brought in to cover the floors. At any rate, the longed-for furniture may be "saved up for" and bought later; a mistake in floors to start with is hard to rectify. MATERIAL AND COST OF LAYING Oak flooring comes in narrow, thin strips of plain- or quarter-sawed. At this writing the plain-sawed costs, laid, usually 16 cents per square foot. It will never be cheaper. Where quarter-sawed is desired, a cent per foot must be added. Borders, which are by no means essential, cost from 20 to 45 cents per lineal foot (laid). In a country house, where local artisans do the laying, the expense may be somewhat less for labor. But it must be remembered that fine floor laying is a trade of itself, and that the time to make sure of the work being properly done is when the wood is put in. If the building is properly constructed, a bulging or cracked floor is unnecessary. At all events, if we are in doubt as to the village carpenter's skill, we would do well to pay the few dollars extra for the expert from the city. Careful measurements are also important, especially with borders and parquetry. ORNAMENTAL FLOORING The hall, if large, will permit of rather more elaborate treatment than the rooms which are to be constantly occupied. No part of the house that is in use for hours at a time should be at all over-elaborated, particularly in its unchangeable features. Care must be taken even in the hall to avoid any freakish combination that will either stand out conspicuously or demand a like treatment of the walls. [Illustration: An attractive and inexpensive hall.] Some folk like tiling in the hall, and if we have little more than a vestibule, tiling is quite satisfactory. It is durable and can be easily cleaned. But if the hall be of the medium or generous size, parquetry will be found more approvable if the expense can be afforded. The designs are richer without being so glaring as many of the tile effects, and the wood seems to have less harshness. Rubber tiling, however, has been found useful in places where there is frequent passing in and outdoors, and has been developed in some pleasing designs. The additional cost for parquetry is not formidable in a moderate-sized hall. Prices range from 20 to 40 cents per square foot, according to design. We shall be wisely guided in choosing a simple square arrangement that will not protest against any passable decoration of the walls. Unless the hall is spacious borders would better be omitted. They need to have the effect of running into hearths and stairways, and in a narrow passage the center will be too crowded. Dining room and living room suggest the quarter-sawed flooring, the former admitting perhaps the stronger border, unless the two rooms are in such direct connection that they require continuous treatment. Upstairs, plain-sawed will do nicely for the hall and chambers, and also for the bathroom if it is not tiled. Borders, of course, may be dispensed with here, as there should be no suggestion of over-ornamentation in the permanent features of a sleeping room. For the kitchen hard maple is found to serve well. One may not find it amiss to inquire into the merits and costs of composition and rubber tiling, but they are not essential to comfort and cleanliness. Here we are concerned with essentials; it is fully understood that we have our own permission to go farther afield in pursuit of more costly things if we choose. WAXED, VARNISHED, AND OILED FLOORS Unless there are small children, expert opinion and the demands of beauty favor waxed floors. Ordinarily the floor must he rewaxed about every three months, but a pound of wax, that will cover two ordinary sized rooms, costs only 50 cents, and it may be applied by anyone. To keep the floors in best condition the wax brush should be passed over them every fortnight. Varnish floors scratch but are not affected by water, and on the whole are rather more popular than oil or wax. They cost something less to maintain, and are less conducive to embarrassing gyratics on the part of dignified persons wearing slippery shoes. If we may not demand oak or maple floors, well-laid Georgia pine, carefully oiled or varnished, would be our next choice. There is a large saving in initial expense, and perhaps some one else will be using them five years from now! Though we cannot expect to get anything like equal satisfaction from the cheaper wood as compared with oak, if we do feel bound to adopt it we shall have less cause for complaint later if we view very carefully the material and the operations of laying and finishing. Poor workmanship can spoil the best of materials; what it can do with cheaper stuff is absolutely unmentionable. Paint may be used on the upper floors and even limited to a border in the bedrooms. CARPETS The floors would not be quite so important if we were planning to entirely cover up their beauties or their uglinesses with another kind of beauty or ugliness in the form of carpets. But experience has long since made it clear to all of us that rugs are not only more healthful and in better taste, but, taken by and large, give less trouble to the housekeeper than carpets. Owing to the fixed position of the latter they are, too, quality for quality, less durable. It is true that in some parts of the house a rug or carpet fastened down may be desirable, but with good floors no such thing will suggest itself in the living rooms at least. LINOLEUM AND MATS Where a very small vestibule is substituted for the reception hall a parquetry or tile flooring would be left uncovered. Over a cheap floor a good quality of linoleum, costing about 50 cents per square yard, may he placed. A small mat of neat design, if such can be found, will take care of those persons who have the foot-scraping habit, regardless of what they scrape upon, though the mat outside should do the important work. Serviceable mats are seldom things of beauty. As they come under the head of floor coverings, it may be well to note that the best quality leather mat, guaranteed to last twenty years, costs $1.25 a square foot. A fair imitation may be had for less than half that figure, and has the same proportion of value. The open-steel mat that serves best with tenacious mud costs 50 cents per square foot, and for rubber we must add a half or double the price, depending on whether we demand the made-to-order article or are content with stock. The old reliable cocoa mat may be had from 35 cents per square foot up, and is quite as useful and scarcely uglier than the others. THE STAIRWAY For appearance' sake, if our stairway is well constructed of good woods, we should forbear to hide it. But there is no place in the house where little Willie can more effectively proclaim to all the household world his possession of double-nailed heels than on the unprotected rises of the stairway. Even the tiny heels of the mistress of the home seem to clump like the boots of a giant in their numberless journeys up and down. So the hall runner must have a place. Perhaps the carpet will be of red or green, depending on the walls, but it need cost little more than $1 per yard for a fair quality. It is put down with stair pads ($1 per dozen) and ordinary tacks, and the expenditure of 10 cents per yard for a professional layer will not be regretted. The amateur who can do a really good job on a stair carpet is a rarity. [Illustration: An artistic staircase hall.] RUGS The Biglow Bagdad domestic rug in 27 by 54 and 36 by 63-inch sizes is inexpensive but looks and wears well in the hall. The first size costs about $4 and the second $7. A little better quality in Anglo-Indian or Anglo-Persian costs a dollar or so more per rug. Where there is constant direct use in the hall we will do wisely to get either a moderate-priced article that may be renewed or something expensive that will wear indefinitely. Sometimes the latter is the more economical plan. Very often halls are so shaped that a rug must be made to order. It is better to do this and have a good-sized rug that will lie well than to risk tripping and slipping with smaller ones. For the living room a variety of choice in rugs is offered. Attempts to utilize a number of small rugs are not usually joyous in their outcome; besides, the floor space is too badly broken up. The large center rug holds its own, with some reenforcement in the alcove or perhaps before the hearth. What quality the rug shall be depends largely upon the length of our purse; yet sagacity and a modest fund will sometimes do more than plethora and no thought. Design selection is a task to vex the most patient, but we must not be drawn into a hurried decision. If we are near enough to the business house with which we are dealing, it is advisable to have a selection of rugs sent out for inspection on the floors. Seen in the salesroom and in our house they may present different aspects. Generally speaking, the showiest designs are in the cheaper goods, and the showier a cheap article is the quicker its shoddy qualities will be made manifest. Therefore, if we must count the pennies on our living-room rug, let us select a simple design with a good body--something that will be unobtrusive even when it begins to appeal for replacement. There is a considerable range of Wiltons, from the so-called Wilton velvet to the "Royal" Wilton. They are by no means the cheapest, though one may go fabulously beyond them in price; but their popularity shows them to be a good average quality, suited to the home planned on a modest scale. Body Brussels, although not affording such rich effects, also has many friends, and tapestry Brussels may be considered. There are names innumerable for rugs and carpets, some of which have little real significance. If one knows a good design when it is seen, a little common-sense observation of weights and weave and a thoughtful comparison of prices will help to secure the best selections. Here are some specimen sizes and prices quoted by one establishment: SIZE. Body Brussels. Biglow Bagdad. Anglo-Indian. 6.0 x 9.0....... $18.00 $25.00 $30.00 8.3 x 10.6....... 22.50 30.00 45.00 9.0 x 10.6....... 25.00 35.00 50.00 10.6 x 12.0....... 32.50 45.00 65.00 10.6 x 13.6....... 35.00 52.50 75.00 11.3 x 15.0....... 42.50 60.00 80.00 Saxony Axminster, 9 by 12, is priced at $45, and is considered to be more serviceable than most grades of Wilton. For the dining room the problem is about the same as for the principal apartment. The rug need not be so expensive as the one in the living room, but it must assuredly be of the enduring sort. The Scotch Caledon rugs sometimes solve the difficulty here. Indeed, they are not out of place in a really "homey" living room or elsewhere in the house. They are made of wool, woven like an ingrain, with no nap, and are especially pleasing for their artistic soft colorings, mostly in green or blue two-tone effects. They are, strictly speaking, not reversible, but some designs will permit use on both sides. While they do not wear quite so well as a Wilton, they come at least a fifth cheaper. Prices range from $9 for a 4.6 by 7.6 to $45 for a 12 by 15. The sizes we have mentioned are standard. If our rooms have been planned in such wise as to require rugs to order we shall have to add ten per cent to our expenditures. ORIENTAL RUGS The subject of oriental rugs, to be intelligently discussed, would require an entire book, and there are books that may be and should be studied by those who can afford orientals. Most of us cannot. There are, indeed, good reasons for the high cost of the genuine oriental, in its superior coloring, wide range of design, and wonderful durability. The right sort grows richer with age. But our plans are not so much for posterity as for present uses, and we can get along very well without testing our wits in the oriental rug market. It is a test of wits, for there are no standards of size or price, and spurious goods sometimes get into the best of hands. Small Daghestans and Baloochistans may be had even lower than $20, but anything we would care to have in living room or dining room would take $150 to $200 from our bank account. [Illustration: An oriental rug of good design: Shirvan.] KITCHEN AND UPPER FLOORS In the kitchen, and perhaps in a rear vestibule, unless the floor is of a sort to be easily wiped up, linoleum may be demanded. The upper hall will require a continuation of the stair runner, with perhaps a rug if it broadens out at the landing. For the bed chambers the question of individual use must be thought of. Brussels rugs will do in most cases. A large rug means considerable shifting to get at the floor, but is the more comfortable. Smaller rugs will permit sweeping under the bed without moving it far, and should be placed under the casters, which will injure the hard-wood floors if allowed to rest directly thereupon. MATTING AND CORDOMAN CLOTH Next in choice would be to spend 25 or 30 cents a yard for matting and cover the entire floor, adding one or two rugs to head off the shivery feeling that arises from a contact of bare feet with cold matting on a winter morning. The casters will cut the matting, too; we must look out for that. A border of flooring, painted or not, may be left; but generally, if anything is to be fastened down, it should cover the entire space, avoiding the ugly accumulation of dust that otherwise gathers under the edges. More expensive than matting, but likely to be quite satisfactory, is cordoman cloth, a floor covering that comes in plain colors and may be easily swept and wiped up. It costs from 45 to 55 cents per yard, and the wadded cotton lining that goes with it is very cheap. Considering its greater durability than matting, cordoman is really the more economical, and the homemaker will do well to investigate its merits. CHILDREN'S ROOM AND "DEN" For the children's room linoleum will probably stand the wear and tear, prove more hygienic, and do as much toward deadening noise as anything short of an impossible padding could do. On the porch a crex-fiber rug or two--the sort that stand rain and resist moths--may be desired, but they can wait until we are settled and have found our bearings. The "den," if there is to be one, or the separate library, may in the one instance be left to individual caprice, in the other to good judgment in suiting it to the prevailing thought. USES OF THE DECORATOR If we have not done so before, when we take up consideration of the walls we will, if we can afford it, call in a professional decorator. First, of course, we will make sure that he really may be of service to us, for his duty is to give practical and artistic development to the more or less vague ideas of which we have become possessed, and if he seems, from examples of previous work, to be wedded to a "style" of his own that would not jibe with our aspirations, we would better try to struggle along without him. But it is possible to secure the services of a decorative artist for a sum not necessarily tremendous, and if we get hold of a sensible fellow his advice will be, in the end, worth much more than the extra outlay. If he is a sincere artist, he will plan just as carefully for a modest six-room cottage as for a mansion, and he will be able to take the good points of our own schemes and adapt them to expert application without making us feel too insignificant. Explicit advice as to decoration, where there are thousands of us, each in different circumstances and with variant tastes, would be rather an absurdity. We may emphasize to ourselves, however, a few phases of the decorative problem in which lack of thought would lose to us some of the joys of a house perfected. If we are not to employ a decorator we must study out the problem for ourselves. To leave it for the painter and paperhanger to settle would be a fatal error. Much knowledge may be gained by the study of books and magazine articles, provided they are very recent. It will be advisable to weigh this knowledge in the scales of practical observation, however, in houses of late date. This is not so much because of changes in fashion as for the reason that improvements in process are always being made, and even the omnipresent folk who write books sometimes overlook a point. Concerning fashion, which of course has its sway in decoration, we will remember that the simplest treatment survives longest. WOOD IN DECORATION It seems that with the steady increase in cost of lumber we have grown more and more to appreciate the beauty of our woods. At any rate, wood is being used more extensively than ever in interior finishing. This is in some ways a healthy tendency, as it makes for simplicity and admits of artistic treatment at a reasonable cost. Hall, living room, and dining room, for instance, may be treated with a high or low wood wainscoting and wooden panels extending to a wooden cornice at the ceiling. The wood may be a weathered oak, and between the panels is a rough plaster in gray or tinted to suit the house scheme. Friezes and plastic cornices are somewhat on the wane, in smaller houses at least; though, of course, they will never go out of use altogether. PANELS AND PLASTER This plaster effect is less expensive than 40-cent burlap or ordinary white calcimine or paper. The picture molding may be at the bottom of the cornice. Sometimes the cornice is dropped to a level with the tops of the doors and windows (usually about seven feet), leaving a frieze of two or three feet, the molding then going to the top of the cornice. Ceilings and friezes of ivory or light yellow are usually in good taste. The living room may carry out the panel and plaster effect, but is more likely to demand a simple paper of good quality with no border. Here, as in the hall, the wooden (or plastic) cornice with no frieze is suggested. Grilles are discarded, and portières are avoided where possible. THE BEAMED CEILING In the dining room the beamed ceiling has been found so appropriate that it continues popular. It is simple, easily maintained, and has the broad, deep lines that put one at ease. Here it is advisable to carry a wooden wainscoting up to about 3 1/2 feet, the panels continuing to the ceiling. Tapestry, burlap, or plaster may show above. Plate shelves are somewhat in disfavor, partly because of abuse and partly because the tendency is to eliminate all dust-catchers that are not necessities. Where doors and windows are built on a line (as they should be), shelves are sometimes placed over them. But there should not be too many broken lines if we would preserve the comfortable suggestion of the beamed ceiling. PAINT, PAPER, AND CALCIMINE For the kitchen, painted walls, which can be easily wiped off, and resist steam, are preferable to calcimine. Tiling halfway up will be found still better, but tiling paper, which costs more than painting, is scarcely to be chosen. For the bedrooms the professional decorators are disposed to over elaboration. A simple paper, costing 15 to 35 cents per roll, is best, or even plain calcimine, which many persons consider more healthful. The latter costs only $3 or $4 a room and may be renewed every year or two. Very nice effects are had in a Georgia-pine panel trimming running to a wood cornice, and in natural wood or painted white. With this the ceiling should be plain white, and if bright-flowered paper is used, pictures should be discarded. Lively colors, if not too glaring, give a cheerful aspect to the room, but the safer plan is to stick to simplicity. In the children's room a three-foot wood wainscoting is desirable. Part of this may be a blackboard without costing more, and at the top a shelf can be placed for toys. Figured nursery papers cost, per roll, from 35 to 75 cents, and will be a never-ceasing source of delight. If the walls are not papered they should be painted, for reasons that need not be suggested. Isn't it wonderful how far a three-foot boy or girl can reach? SHADES AND CURTAINS We have not advanced much in the production of window shades that will let in light and air, shut out the gaze of strangers, hold no shadows, match interior and exterior, fit properly, work with ease, cost little, and last forever. The ordinary opaque roller shade still has no serious rival, and usually the best we can do is to see to it that we get a good quality which is not always reliable, rather than a poor quality, which never is. The good old lace curtains that were the pride of the housekeeper's heart and the jest of the masculine members of the household seem to have had their day. It has been a long one, and any article that holds sway for so lengthy a period must have had some merit. But the soft chintz, linen, madras, or muslin is now the vogue, and there is much good sense in the innovation. No lace curtain ever made could be both artistic and serviceable; some persons go so far as to say that they never were either, but we have too much reverence for tradition to be so iconoclastic. However, they certainly were expensive if they were good enough to have, were difficult to wash, and usually caused a dead line to be drawn about the very choicest part of the room. Linen curtains, costing from 50 cents to $1.25 a yard, may be had in a set or conventional design or plain appliqué. Chintz and muslin cost less, and some remarkably pretty effects in madras are obtainable. Curtains now sensibly stop at the bottom of the window instead of dragging upon the floor. Besides shades and curtains the window question involves not only light, ventilation, and artistic relations, but such details as screens and storm windows. These latter matters come under the jurisdiction of the architect and should not be carelessly settled upon. Each room has its uses, to which the window must conform as nearly as may be, and then the outward appearance of the house must not be forgotten. It is often made or marred by the character and placing of the windows. LEADED PANES AND CASEMENTS Leaded or art glass is attractive if not overdone. Small panes are difficult to keep clean, of course; but we can probably endure that if all else be equal. In living rooms the upper sash should be made smaller than the lower, so as to get the median rail above the level of the eye. In some parts of the house a horizontal window gives a fine effect, besides affording light and air without affecting privacy. Casement windows have their points of excellence, and are additionally expensive chiefly in hardware. The frames are really cheaper, but they must be very accurately fitted to avoid leaks. Casement windows seriously complicate the screen and storm-window problem, and expert planning is necessary. The durability of screens depends mostly upon their care or abuse, but if it can be afforded, copper wire will usually last sufficiently longer to repay its additional cost. Metal frames are not so essential. The best form is that which covers the entire window and permits both sashes to be freely opened; but this costs practically twice as much as the half-window screen. STORM WINDOWS Storm windows should be carefully fitted or they will come far from serving their purpose. If they are of the right sort they will soon repay their cost in easing up the furnace. Preferably they should be swung from the top, both for ventilation and washing and to avoid a check upon egress in case of fire. Some persons object to storm windows on account of the supposed stoppage of ventilation, but that rests entirely with the occupants of the house. They can get plenty of fresh air without letting the gales of winter have their own sweet will. With floors, walls, and windows determined upon, we have a good start on the interior of our house. But we may only pause to take breath, for we now have to give most careful consideration to two decidedly important factors in our comfort--lighting and heating. CHAPTER III LIGHTING AND HEATING If common sense has governed our proceedings to date, the new house we are building, or the ready-built one we have chosen, will have full advantage of the one perfect light--that afforded by the sun. NECESSITY OF SUNLIGHT The health-giving properties of sunlight are so well known to all of us that we wonder why so many otherwise sensible folk seem to shun it, with trees and vines, awnings and blinds denying access to that which would make the house wholesome. When possible, every room in the house should have its daily ray bath, and our apartments should utilize the light of the sun as early and as late as may be. Perhaps nature intended all creatures to sleep through the hours of darkness. If we had followed that custom we might be a race of Methuselahs; who knows? Why some one has not established a cult of sleepers from sunset to dawn is really inexplicable. But mankind in general has persisted in holding to a different notion, and since the sun declines to shine upon us during all the hours of the twenty-four, and we insist upon cutting the night short at one end, we have had to devise substitutes for the sunlight. Of course the sunlight does not always leave us in unbroken darkness. Few of us are so far departed from the days of mellow youth as to forget certain summer evenings, linked in memory with verandas or bowered walks, when moonlight--and even that in a modified form--was the ideal illumination. But even if we could employ the good fairies to dip them up for us, we should find the soft moongleams of the summer evening a rather doubtful aid in searching for the cat in the dark corners of the basement. Omitting pine knots, which are rather out of vogue, modern home lighting includes four forms--candles, oil lamps, gas, and electricity. The first-named are not, it is true, used to any extent for what may be called the practical purposes of lighting; but in many ways their light is most beautiful of all. Some charming candelabra suited to the dining table are found in the better shops, and an investment in a choice design is a very justifiable extravagance. Candle illumination is of all varieties the one least trying to the eyes and to the complexion, though its effect upon the temper of the person tending the candles is not so sure to be happy. However, the sort with a hollow center, called Helion candles, require little attention, and the patented candle holders, which work automatically, give no trouble at all. KEROSENE Notwithstanding there are some points in favor of the old reliable kerosene lamp, even when put in the scale with other illuminants, few people of the younger generation regard it as other than something to be endured. In view of the facts that an oil lamp requires a great deal of attention, usually leaves its trail of oil and smoke, is ill-smelling, disagreeably hot in summer, and always somewhat dangerous, it is strange that those who cling to it as to a fetich are usually the ones who have longest struggled with its imperfections. The pretext for this conservatism, whether it be spoken or reserved, is economy. If we are of this class, we may be shocked to discover that, after all, kerosene lighting is really no cheaper than gas or electric light, if sufficient illumination is afforded, and insufficient lighting is surely ill-judged economy. GAS AND MATCHES Few communities of respectable size are now without gas or electricity, and even in the country the latter is almost everywhere obtainable. If not, an individual gas plant, of which there are several makes, may be installed at a moderate cost. Properly placed, such a plant is safe and easily regulated and will furnish light for somewhat less than the usual charge of the gas companies. Gas has never fully supplanted kerosene, even where it is readily obtained. Why this is true we need not pause to discuss; perhaps a fairly well-founded suspicion of the meter has had something to do with it. But certainly no one building a house in these days would fail to pipe it for gas if the supply were at hand, even if it were to be used only for kitchen fuel. Gas has its virtues as an illuminant also, and is favored by many on account of the softness of the light. But while gas is preferable to kerosene, electricity is with equal certainty preferable to gas. It is more adaptable, is in many places quite as reasonable in cost, and is cleaner and safer. In numerous country communities where gas is not to be had electricity is available, as frequently a large region embracing several towns is supplied from a single generating plant. Gas is subject to fluctuations in quality, sometimes becoming quite dangerous in its effect upon the atmosphere. Water gas, which is very generally manufactured, is said to carry four or five times as much carbon monoxide per unit of bulk as retort gas. It has for the hemoglobin of the blood four hundred times the affinity of oxygen, and a proportion of only two tenths of one per cent may produce heart derangement. While we are wondering that we are alive in the face of such dreadful facts, we may note further that gas is rather variable in its qualities as an illuminant. We have mentioned the suspicious gas meter, whose vagaries doubtless have caused more virtuous indignation with less impression upon its object than anything ever devised. An open flame is always a menace; and then there is the burnt match. Most housekeepers, I am sure, would testify to their belief that matches were not made in heaven. Is there anything that so persistently defies the effort for tidiness as the charred remains of a match, invariably ignited elsewhere than on the sandpaper conspicuously provided, and more likely to be tossed upon the floor or laid upon the mahogany table than to find its way into the receptacles that yearn for it? For cooking, however, gas must still be a main dependence, and for this reason, as well as to provide for remote emergencies, the house should be piped for gas. At least it should be brought into the house, even if the piping is not continued farther than the kitchen. ELECTRIC LIGHT In seeking to secure sufficient light we often go to the extreme of providing a glare that is trying to the eyes and would test the beauty of the loveliest complexion that ever charmed in the revealing light of day. We go further, mayhap, and concentrate the glare upon the center of the room, with a shade of bright green which gives an unearthly but not a heavenly cast to all the unfortunate humans who come under its belying influence. Objection is sometimes made to electric light that it is too powerful, and that it is difficult to modify and control. This impression is due to the tendency of which we have spoken--the working out of the thought that proper lighting is a question of quantity. For some persons the ideal arrangement would seem to be a searchlight at each corner of the room, with a few arc lights suspended from a mirrored ceiling. Electric light, to furnish the most agreeable effects, must be softened and properly diffused. If the light units that so perfectly illumine a room during the day were concentrated they would make a blinding glare, but diffused they are properly tempered to the eye. The common thought seems to be to put all the lights of the living room in the center, and to make them so powerful that they will penetrate every corner of the room and make it "light as day." In consequence the center is overlighted, and instead of a similitude of daylight we have unreality. PLEASING ARRANGEMENT For the dining-room and library table some form of drop light is essential. There are arrangements that will transform the banquet or student lamp into an electric drop light, or the special outfits for this use may be had in some very artistic designs. For general lighting, wall sconces, lanterns, or brackets are preferable. Some of these are very beautiful, though there is a tendency to overelaboration. Design, of course, should be in keeping with the general decoration and outfitting of the room. Instead of four sixteen-candle-power lights in a center chandelier, eight of eight-candle power will "spread" the illumination better and add little to the expense, except for fixtures. In beamed ceilings which are not too high, the effect of lights placed upon the beams is pleasing, though the effect upon the monthly bill may not have the same aspect. Electric lamps at the sides should be at a fair height and throw their light downward, instead of wasting it upon the ceiling. The pretty lanterns of antique design are expensive, the simplest sort costing $4 or $5 apiece. There are numerous artistic brackets, however, that may be had for smaller amounts. Bulbs are made in all sorts of shapes to fit recesses or for special purposes, and the designs in shades and candelabra are legion. ADAPTABILITY Electricity's strong card is its adaptability. It can go wherever a wire may be carried, and into many places where gas or oil lights would not be safe or practical. The only thing lacking is to make it wireless, and perhaps invention sooner or later will be equal to that demand. Early installations were rather carelessly made, but municipal and underwriters' rules are now so strict that practically all danger of fire has been eliminated. The householder in the country should make sure that the underwriters' prescriptions are fully observed, as his insurance may be affected. In the city, official inspection usually guarantees correct wiring. Probably only in the hall, dining room, and living room will we be greatly concerned with the decorative phase of lighting. Elsewhere the question is largely one of practical use, though considerations of taste are not to be neglected. Careful study should be given to the adaptation of lighting to the future uses of the rooms. This will perhaps avoid the use later of unsightly extension cord, though this avoidance can scarcely be made complete. PROTECTION A very useful light may be provided for the veranda, just outside the door, illuminating the front steps and path to the sidewalk. This light may be turned off and on by a switch key inside the door. It is particularly comforting when some stranger rings the doorbell late at night and one does not feel overpleased to be called upon to open the door to an invisible person. Other switch arrangements make it possible to turn on the upper hall lights from below, or the lower hall lights from above, and the lights in each room from the hall. When there are unseemly noises downstairs in the wee sma' hours it is much more agreeable to gaze over the balustrade into a bright hall than to go prowling about in the darkness for the bulb or gas jet, with the chance of grasping a burglar instead. Some burglars are very sensitive about familiarities on the part of strangers, and it is always better to permit them to depart in a good humor. The basement lighting, too, should be regulated from above, and the dark corners should be well looked after. At best, the basement is a breeder of trouble. If the light is in the center, and must be turned off at the bulb, the return to the stairway from the nocturnal visit to the furnace is likely to be productive of bruised shins and objurgative English; if the light operates from above, one either forgets to turn it off and leaves it to burn all night, or becomes uncertain about it just as he is beginning to doze off, necessitating a scramble downstairs to make sure. Perhaps it would be well to have a choice of systems. Some houses have been so wired that one can illuminate every room from the hall or from the master's bedroom. This necessitates complicated wiring and will not be found necessary by most of us. Neither will we desire to spend our hardly won cash in wiring our four-poster bed for reading lights, or to put lights under the dining table for use in searching for the lost articles that always by some instinct seek the darkest spots in the room. If there be a barn or shed on the lot, an extension carried there will be found convenient and comparatively inexpensive. In the kitchen and pantries the lights should be considered in detail so that all the various operations may be served. Shadowed sinks and ranges and dark pantries are not necessary where there is electric light. REGULATED LIGHT In halls, closets, and bathroom lower-power lamps, or the "hylo," which may be alternated from one- to sixteen-candle power, will prove an economy. The "hylo" is also useful in bedrooms where children are put to sleep, affording sufficient light to daunt the hobgoblins without discouraging the approach of the sandman. Some persons cannot sleep without a light; for them, and for the sick room, the low-power light is eminently preferable to the best of oil lamps. There are numerous conveniences to be operated by electricity, such as chafing dishes ($13.50), flat irons ($3.75 up), curling-iron heaters ($2.25 up), electric combs for drying hair ($4), heating pads, in lieu of hot-water bags ($5), and many articles for the kitchen. These are operated from flush receptacles in baseboards or under rugs, or from the ordinary light sockets. THE TWO SURE WAYS OF HEATING There is only one efficient and healthful method of heating a house, and that is with a hot-air furnace. I have that on the authority of a man who sells hot-air furnaces, and he ought to know. Substitute "steam or hot water" for "hot-air furnace," and we have the assurance of the man across the way who sells boilers and radiators. The beauty of it is that each proves his case to one's entire satisfaction--not only that his own system is a marvel of perfection, but that the other systems are dangerous to health and breeders of unhappiness and really ought (though he wouldn't like to say so) to be prohibited by law. So we shall have to decide the question for ourselves. If we err, we can still abuse the dealer, or the architect, or the contractor, for letting us make a mistake. THE HOT-AIR FURNACE The hot-air furnace costs least to install. (We leave stoves out of consideration.) It is also supposed to be easiest to manage. That, in a sense, is true. A good furnace will act pretty well even under indifferent direction; a bad one cannot be made much worse by the greatest of stupidity. However, the average person can run the average furnace with a fair degree of satisfaction to the household, if not to himself. For a house of six to eight rooms the furnace may be considered an efficient means of heating. It requires more fuel than some other apparatus, but there are compensations. Since ventilation and heating are inevitably associated, the argument that the furnace provides for ventilation is a strong one. If the air is taken from outdoors, passed over the radiating surface into the rooms, and then sent on its way, something like perfect ventilation is assured. If the air is simply taken from the basement--a poor place to go for air--heated, passed through the rooms, returned, and heated over again, we may well pray to be delivered from such "ventilation." The success of the furnace depends not upon ability to keep up a rousing fire but upon a proper regulation of air currents. Many a first-class furnace, properly installed, fails to work satisfactorily because the principle of heating is not understood. Even with the best of knowledge, the air is hard to regulate, and the very principle that gives the furnace its standing as a ventilator must prevent it from being a perfect heater. Unless some artificial moisture is provided, not only will the air be too dry for comfort and health, but an excessive degree of heat must be attained in order to warm the rooms, thus increasing the consumption of coal. A water pan is usually provided in the furnace, but too often it is neglected. DIRECTION OF HEAT If any mistake in selection of size is to be made, it should be in favor of excess. Most authorities urge the choice of at least a size above that indicated by the heating area. A chimney with suitable draught is imperative. The furnace should be placed in a central location and should be set sufficiently low to permit the essential rise of the heat ducts. If the basement is low the furnace should be depressed. While the heat conveyors should not ascend directly from the furnace, they should not be carried any farther than necessary in a horizontal position. The velocity of heat is diminished in carrying it horizontally, increased vertically. Crooks and turns add to the friction and decrease heating power. Therefore the pipes should be as short and direct as possible. It is not necessary to carry the register to a window on the farther side of the room, say some authorities, as the warm air rises to the ceiling anyway, and the greater length of carry involves a loss in warmth. Pipes for the first floor should he large. Those for the upper rooms, having a longer vertical range, may be smaller. All the pipes should be double, with an inch air space between, as a protection against fire. Asbestos paper on a single pipe is not regarded as a sufficient precaution, as it is easily torn and quickly wears out. REGISTERS There are arguments in favor of side-wall registers. They save floor space and obviate some dust. On the other hand, they are not quite so effective in heating as the other sort, since the pipes for floor registers may be of larger diameter and as a rule require fewer bends. Each register should have a separate pipe from the furnace. Where direct heat is not desired, a register opening in the ceiling of a downstairs room will sometimes carry enough heat to the upper chamber to make it comfortable for sleeping purposes. Since furnace efficiency is largely dependent upon air control, a strong wind sometimes makes it difficult to heat portions of the house. To meet this emergency there is a combination hot-air and hot-water heater which supplies radiators on the upper floors, or elsewhere if desired. The additional cost is practically all in the installation, as the same fire furnishes both forms of heat. For an eight-room house or smaller, a first-class steel-plate furnace, securely sealed against the escape of gas and smoke, costs free on board about $150. Each two rooms additional raises the price about $25. Other furnaces may be had as low as $50. Cost of tin work, brick setting, etc., depends upon locality. HOT WATER AND STEAM HEAT Hot water and steam heat cost more for installation, but have many advantages over the furnace. Their chief drawbacks are the space usurped by radiators, lack of ventilation, and the possibility of an occasional breakdown. The ingenuity of the makers, however, is partly overcoming these difficulties, mainly by the device called the indirect system. We need not fret ourselves here with a technical elucidation of either form of heating. We may, however, consider some of the claims made for hot water, which is apparently coming to be considered the preferable arrangement for dwelling houses. There is not a great deal of difference between the essential features of steam and hot-water systems. It is declared that water will absorb more heat than any other substance, hence will take from the boiler practically all the heat produced in the combustion of fuel. As the temperature of the water is automatically controlled, the atmosphere of the rooms may be kept at the desired degree, the presence of radiators in each room, all of the same temperature, giving an even heat over the entire house. There can be no sudden drop in temperature, as the water in the pipes continues to distribute warmth even after the fire has been checked or has been allowed to go out. The fuel required for an ordinary stove, it is asserted, will warm an entire house with hot water. An engineer is not required. Inexperienced persons have no difficulty in operating the ordinary boiler, and there is no danger whatever, because, the makers adduce, for steam heat the maximum pressure is about five pounds, while with hot water there is practically no pressure at all. Very little water is used, and a connection with the street water system is not imperative, though convenient. INDIRECT HEATING Indirect heating is provided by passing air over radiators attached to the ceiling of the basement, thence to the upper rooms. In the "direct-indirect" system the radiators are placed in the partition walls of the rooms they are to heat, the cold air being brought through a duct and, being heated, passing into the rooms. These two systems are economical of space and afford provision for excellent ventilation. They are considerably more expensive, however, than the direct system, which involves exposed radiators. Radiators are now constructed in many different forms, to fit under windows, in corners, in fireplaces, under cabinets, and so on. Much effort has been directed also toward relieving their painful ugliness, and if of a neat design appropriately colored they need not be a serious blot upon the decorative scheme of a room. Radiators, in the direct system, should be placed far enough from the walls to permit free circulation over the heating surfaces, and should not be directly covered at the top. Ordinarily there are good reasons for putting them near the more exposed places, such as windows and outer doors. As both steam and hot water furnish a dry heat, provision should be made in every room for evaporation of water. SUMMARY With no prejudice against good furnaces, it may be said that hot water apparently affords the greatest possibilities for comfort and regularity of heating, and that there are usually no reasons why it cannot be utilized in country houses. A hot-water installation is likely to cost twice as much as a furnace, but if we are to live in the house it is better to make our estimates cover ten or twenty years rather than to bear too strongly on first costs. The following table, while it must not be taken as fully conclusive, gives at least a basis of consideration: HOT AIR. STEAM. HOT WATER. First cost.................. Small. Higher. Highest. Comparative coal consumption ............ 18 1/2 tons. 13 1/2 tons. 10 tons. Average durability.......... 12 years. 35 years. *Indestructible Heat distribution........... Uneven. Regular. Even. Temperature................. Variable. Fair. Regular. Ventilation................. Good, if Good, with Good, with properly indirect indirect managed. system. system. Quality of heated air....... Ditto. Ditto. Ditto. Dust and dirt............... Much. Little. None. Danger of fire.............. Moderate. None. None. Danger of explosion......... Slight. None. None. Noise....................... None. Occasional. Almost none. Management.................. *Delightful. *Pleasure. *Joy. Relative cost of apparatus.. 9 13 15 Ditto, plus repairs and fuel for five years..... 29 1/2 29 2/3 27 Ditto, plus repairs and fuel for five years..... 81 63 52 1/2 * Makers' statement. These comparisons are probably, on the whole, somewhat unfair to the high-grade furnace. CHAPTER IV FURNITURE Much of good sense and more that is nonsensical has been written about furniture. Observation tends to justify belief that in general effect the nonsense has proved more potent than its antithesis. THE QUEST OF THE BEAUTIFUL Originality has been preached, and we have seen the result in abnormalities that conform to no conception of artistic or practical quality ever recognized. Antique models have been glorified, with a sequence of puny, spiritless imitations. Simplicity has been extolled, and we find the word interpreted in clumsiness and crudity. Delicacy of outline has been urged, and we triumph in the further accomplishments of flimsiness and hopeless triviality. And yet through all that has been preached, through all that has been executed, there runs a vein of truth. Each age should express itself, not merely the thought of centuries past; still, it can expect to do little more than take from antecedent cycles those features that will best serve the present, adding an original touch here and there. So far, then, as we find in the furniture of the Georgian period, or of Louis Quinze, or even of the ancient Greeks, such suggestions as will help us to live this twentieth-century life more comfortably and agreeably, we may with good conscience borrow or imitate. ANCIENT DESIGNS Some "very eminent authorities" assure us that many of the objects of our admiration in museums and in private collections are remnants of the furnishings of the common households of the olden times. If the breadth of knowledge of the "eminent authorities" is indicated by this assertion, they must have touched only the high places in history, so far as it records social conditions. The truth is that the household appurtenances which have survived to our time are mostly those of the few and not of the many, of the palace and mansion and not of the cot. These articles were costly then and they would be costly now, and very often quite as useless as costly. They were not found in the cottage of the older days, and they do not belong in the cottages of the present. Nevertheless, many of these old designs exemplify the elementary essentials of furniture--good materials, gracefulness, and thorough workmanship. These are qualities that are to be sought for the cottage as well as for the mansion; and while they may add to the purchase cost of the separate articles, it is possible to secure them at no great increase for the whole over the cheaper goods, provided we guard against the common error in housefurnishing--overpurchasing. [Illustration: Good examples of Chippendale and old walnut.] THE ARTS AND CRAFTS What is known in America as the arts and crafts movement has, in its sincere developments, sought to adapt the better qualities of the old designs of furniture to the demands of modern conditions, artistic and practical. Not always, however, has it been possible to distinguish between the honest effort to enforce a better standard and the various forms of charlatanry under which clumsy and unsightly creations have been and are being worked off upon an ingenuous public at prices proportioned to their degrees of ugliness. In colonial times many an humble carpenter vainly scratched his noggin as he puzzled over the hopeless problem of duplicating with rude tools and scant skill the handiwork that graced the lordly mansions of merrie England; to-day some wight who can scarcely distinguish a jackplane from a saw-buck essays to "express himself" (at our expense) in furniture, repeating all the gaucheries that the colonial carpenter could not avoid making. MISSION FURNITURE Others have set themselves to reproducing the so-called mission furniture which the good priests of early California would have rejoiced to exchange for the convenient modern furniture at which the faddist sniffs. But most of us who stop to think, realize that there is no magic virtue in antiquity of itself. The average man, at least, cannot delude himself into the belief that there is comfort to be found in a great deal of the harsh-angled stuff paraded as artistic. Let us not be understood, however, as hinting that artistic qualities must be disregarded. Though furniture should not be chosen for its beauty or associations alone, it must not be considered at all if beauty is absent. COMFORT, AESTHETIC AND PHYSICAL The first consideration of the home is comfort. Let no one dispute that fact. But there is such a thing as being aesthetically as well as physically comfortable. Conceptions of physical comfort differ with individuals, but are usually well defined; some of us actually have no conception whatever of aesthetic comfort. That is no reason why we should not seek it. Probably we had a very faint idea of what good music or good painting was like until we came to an acquaintance with the masters; but we are surely not sorry to have progressed in experience and feeling. And so it is that though we may not feel specially urged to insist upon tasteful surroundings, the higher instincts within us that persuade us to make the most of ourselves demand that we shall not be content with mere physical comfort. Therefore we may need to look a bit beyond our definite inward aspirations, and we should not disdain to follow others so far as they adhere to certain well-authenticated canons of good taste. OLDER MODELS IN FURNITURE Study of the older models of furniture is bound to prove suggestive, and it is better to secure from the library or bookseller a book by some authority than to depend upon dealers' catalogues, which are not always edifying. English models affecting present-day outfitting date back as far as the Elizabethan period, approximately 1558-1603. Following there came the Early Jacobean, the Early Queen Anne, and the Georgian. The last includes the work of Chippendale, Heppelwhite, Sheraton, and the Adams, all of whom executed some beautiful designs. The so-called colonial furniture belongs also to the Georgian period, as does the "Debased Empire," corresponding to or following the Empire styles in France. In the latter country the periods of vogue are known as Francis Premier, Henri Deux, Henri Quatre, Louis Treize, Louis Quatorze, Louis Quinze, and Louis Seize. Under the designation of the "Quaint style" W. Davis Benn groups the "Liberty," Morris, and arts and crafts designs. Mr. Benn's "Styles in Furniture" will be found helpful in both text and illustration to those who would learn to distinguish between the products of the various periods. [Illustration: A Chippendale secretary.] MAHOGANY AND OAK Mahogany and oak are the best materials for furniture. The former is cleverly imitated in a mahoganized birch, which presents a pleasing appearance and sometimes deceives those who are not familiar with the beautiful rich tones of the genuine article. Mahogany adapts itself to almost any sensible style of interior decoration, is likely to be of careful manufacture, and is almost invariably cherished for its beauty. Like other highly finished woods it takes on a bluish tint in damp weather, and if not well protected, will demand attention more frequently than other materials. But if its purchase can be afforded the care given it will scarcely be begrudged. The eggshell (dull) finish requires less attention than the higher polish. Next in degree to mahogany, oak in the golden, weathered, or fumed effect is handsome and durable, while it is somewhat less expensive. The moment one drops below genuine mahogany, however, a wary eye must be kept upon construction. There are shifts innumerable to make cheap furniture that has an alluring appearance, and the variety of design in the moderate-priced materials will lead to confusion for those who do not exert a Spartan discrimination. SUBSTANTIALITY To insure satisfaction there must first of all be substantiality--a quality which affects both comfort and appearance. A chair may be beautiful, it may be comfortable, at the time of purchase, but if it be not substantial its glories will soon depart. A superficial view cannot be conclusive. The carefully made article built upon slender lines is often quite as strong as a more rugged creation hastily put together. The chair that is properly constructed may be almost as solid as if it were of one piece, and still not require a block and tackle to move it. The strongest article is made entirely of wood, and we find some of the old models so sturdily built that no rounds were required between the legs. In chiffoniers, dressers, or side-boards a handsome exterior should not blind us to cheaply constructed drawers. The latter should be of strong material, properly fitted, and well sealed. There need be no sagging, jamming, or accumulation of dust in drawers that are well constructed. SUPERFLUITY California, with its pretty little bungalows, not only has pointed out to us the possibility of living satisfactorily in a small number of rooms, but has shown us something in the way of simple furnishings. Not until we see what may be "done without" do we realize how much that is superfluous crowds our floors. A pretty good rule is to test everything first by its usefulness; if it is not useful, we may dispense with its purchase. Even at that, it may be necessary to demand that the article shall be not only useful but absolutely indispensable, for between the beguiling advertisement and the crafty salesman, almost anything that is manufactured may be proved necessary. At the best we shall probably purchase a-plenty, and the question of when a house reaches the point of overfurnishing is a difficult one to settle. Let one of us, for instance, venture at midnight into a dark room--be the apartment ever so large--with nothing but a rocker in it, and the impression may be gained that the place has been turned into a furniture warehouse. And some persons--none of us, to be sure!--are never happy while any of the floor or wall space is unoccupied. So the world goes. But if nine out of ten persons bought only what they could not do without, what they did purchase could be of a great deal better quality. No bit of furniture should be purchased for which there is not a suitable place in the house. A piece may be very attractive in the salesroom, and its practical qualities may appear irresistible, while on our own floors it may be perfectly incongruous and perhaps, on account of its enforced location, almost useless. If for no other reason, we should go slow with our purchases because we cannot know the real needs of our home until we have lived in it. Experience will make some articles superfluous and substitute what we had not thought to want. There should be a regular saving fund or appropriation for keeping up the house fittings, and usually it is found that this fund grows more steadily if we have some definite purchases in view. Leave some things to be "saved up for"; there will be less likelihood then of your being included in that large class to which the newspaper "small ads" appeal--"those who wish to trade what they don't want for what they do want." HALL FURNITURE In a hall of the simpler sort the only requirements are a high-backed chair or settee, a table for _cartes de visite_, an umbrella receptacle, and a mirror wall hanger with hooks for the use of guests. The time-honored halltree is no more, and long may it rest in peace. If there had been no other reasons for its passing, its abuse in the average household made it an eyesore. Intended only for the convenience of the transient guest, its hooks were usually preëmpted by the entire outer wardrobe of the family. A good plan is to have a coat closet built in, under the stairway or elsewhere near the place of egress, leaving the few inconspicuous hooks in the hall to afford ample provision for visitors. An appropriation of $50 to $100 will fit up a small hall very satisfactorily. A pretty hanging lantern of hammered copper, with open bottom and globe of opalescent glass, will add more than its cost of $12.50 to the good impression the hall is to make upon those it receives. THE FAMILY CHAIRS Some good folk would banish the rocker unceremoniously from the living room, and we might not miss it so much as we think. It is the adaptability of the rocker to comforting positions, rather than a love of rocking, that endears the chair to the majority, and when the same qualities are found in the reclining or easy chair we can well spare the projections that menace skirts and polished furniture, not to speak of the space they take up. As a general thing it is the man of the house whose comfort is most sedulously looked after. For him the easy chair, the slippers, the reading lamp, the smoking outfit, the house jacket, the evening paper. This fact is mentioned in no carping spirit. Far be it from one of the less worthy sex to quarrel with the fate that has been ordained for us by our helpmeets; the latter should not be deprived of a whit of the joy that comes from viewing the lord of the household agreeably situated, and in that blissful state which breeds a kindly spirit toward all human kind, including milliners and ladies' tailors. But too frequently the mistress of the household is supposed to pick up her comfort at odd times, or more likely there isn't any supposition at all. For her, for the master, and for the other members of the family, there must be a personal interest in the living room, and this is best represented by the most comfortable chair to be had. As persons are built of different heights and breadths, so the chairs should be. While the slender chap can snuggle down in the most capacious easy chair, the stout lady may be embarrassed when she finds the one single seat at hand proffering only a scanty breadth. One may well provide for these contingencies, for of course it is not always possible to select our acquaintances in accordance with the capacity of our furniture. Heights, too, should be varied somewhat, though it must be confessed that the joy of life (for others) is much increased by the sight of a six-foot (tall) gentleman of dignity gradually unfolding himself from the chair that was purchased for the particular use of Gwendolyn Ermyntrude, aged six. THE TABLE If the living room, among its other uses, takes the place of the library, the selection of a suitable library table will be a good test of the homemaker's discrimination. The quality of this table should be at least equal to the best we have to show. Whether it shall be squared, or oblong with oval ends, depends upon tastes; by all means it should be get-at-able. That's what a library table is for. Good designs in "arts and crafts" may be had as low as $16.50 in a small size; 72-inch, about $50. Golden oak costs less, mahogany considerably more. THE DAVENPORT The davenport in mahogany or oak, in a plain or striped velour tapestry, felt filled, with good springs, built on straight lines with claw feet, broad arms, and heavy back, is a good article and will not leave much change out of a $50 bill. That represents a fair price for a fair quality, and it would be better to do without the davenport than to go in for something too cheap. The sort that have detached cushions in soft leather are very nice and practically dustless. The same is true of easy chairs so provided. A handsome weathered-oak davenport with cushions of this kind will be found marked somewhere about $65, while half that price pays for an easy chair of the same style. The cushions are filled with felt. Springs and fillings in davenports, easy chairs, and couches should be most thoroughly investigated. If there are carvings they must be subjected to the severest tests of appropriateness, and in no event should they be where they will come in frequent contact with other articles or with persons. BOOKCASES Bookcases in weathered oak, with the top sections of the doors in leaded glass, seem worth the prices at $28 for 30-inch, $43.50 for 4-foot, and $47.50 for 5-foot; yet a simple 30-inch golden oak case "made in Grand Rapids," and of which no one need be ashamed, costs but $14. Sectional cases are very convenient, and are now being designed in artistic styles, but are not yet altogether approvable for the parlor or living room. For the library simply, they are to be recommended. Bookcases and other heavy pieces should either set solidly upon the floor or have sufficient open space beneath them to permit cleaning. Unless their contents are (mistakenly) hidden by curtains, the bookcases should not be placed in too strong sunlight, as some bindings fade rapidly. Nor should they be near the heat radiators, or against a wall that may possess moisture. The piano, too, must be protected against too great heat or moisture, and in a stone or brick house should be placed against a partition rather than the outside wall. SUNDRIES Useful, but not life-or-death essentials, are a tabouret at, say, $3.25, a footrest for a little less, and a magazine rack for $5 or $10. The problem of keeping periodicals in easy reach without too much of a "litter'ry" effect has not yet been solved. The open rack is the best compromise between sightliness and utility, because it is more apt to be used than the more ambitious arrangements with doors. In the general treatment of the living room the piano and its case are not to be overlooked, and the presence of a piano also suggests the music cabinet, with its problem similar to that of the magazine rack. As music is not kept so well "stirred up," however, the cabinet with a tight door is "indicated." WILLOW FURNITURE Willow furniture is used extensively in some country homes. It is made of the French willow, and is not so cheap but is stronger than rattan. Best rockers in this material sell at about $20. They are hardly to be considered in the permanent furnishings of the home, though there is no denying their cleanliness, coolness, and comfort, especially in summer. THE DINING TABLE For the dining room the sensible preference seems to be for a round table with straight lines of under construction. The pillar base gives least interference with personal comfort, but even at that seems to be unescapable. What has been said elsewhere about the choice of woods applies here also. The high cost of a large-size mahogany table, however, will probably enable us to see some of the special beauties of golden oak. A six-foot round table in the latter wood is priced at about $20. Medium height chairs, with cane seats, $2.75; leather, $3.25. Sideboards are now usually built in; otherwise the buffet table, free from excessive ornamentation, is given preference. [Illustration: The dining room.] DISCRIMINATION IN CHOICE A great deal of the factory-made furniture of the day is the veriest trash. The best feature of it is that it cannot last long and will not survive to disgrace us in the eyes of a later and perhaps more discriminating generation. For those who reside in flats, and are deprived of the inducement to plan for permanence, small blame can attach for hesitancy in making investments in the better sort of furniture that their tastes would lead them to choose. This is the penalty they pay for evading the responsibilities of genuine home life in a house. But good furniture is being built in these days. It is not confined to hand work, or to the products of long-haired folk who set up a religion of cabinet-making. In every city there are several grades of furniture dealers. At the one extreme there is the house that handles nothing but trash; at the other the house that handles no trash at all. The latter is the obvious choice; and if we pay a bit more for safety--well, do we not pay for our insurance against fire, and burglars, and other things? If our house has been planned on a scale commensurate with our means, we shall find it no extravagance to complete the larger work of outfitting with articles that will bring pleasure and not vexation, that will need no apologies. Surely no employment could be more interesting than the choice of these belongings which shall in many ways influence ourselves and those about us. There is such a range of styles and costs that if we approach the problem intelligently we may "express ourselves" quite as accurately as though we were amateur craftsmen. Indeed, we must express ourselves, whether we determine to do so or not; for if we simply follow our cruder instincts, as the child selects its toys, do we not reveal the absence of any real artistic self whatever? CHAPTER V HOUSEHOLD LINEN Most of us "women folk" have some one dear pet hobby which we love to humor and to cater to, and which variously expresses itself in china, bric-a-brac, books, collections of spoons or forks, and other things of beauty and joys forever. But whatever our individual indulgences may be, one taste we share in common--the love of neat napery. Her heartstrings must indeed be toughly seasoned who feels no thrill of pride as she looks upon her piles of shining, satiny table linen, and takes account of her sheet, pillowcase and towel treasure. They are her stocks and bonds, giving forth daily their bounteous, beauteous yield of daintiness and comfort, and paying for themselves many times over by the atmosphere of nicety and refinement which they create. For it is these touches, unobtrusive by their very delicacy, which introduce that intangible but very essential quality known as _tone_ into the home harmony. Though this is true of all household linen, it is, especially so of table linen, which seems to weave into its delicate patterns and traceries all the light and sunshine of the room, and to give them back to us in the warming, quickening good cheer which radiates from a table daintily dressed. Its influence refines, as all that is chaste and pure must refine, and helps to make of mealtime something more than merely mastication. Human nature's daily food seems to lose something of its grossness in its snowy setting, and to gain a spiritual savor which finds an outlet in "feasts of reason and flows of soul." When we have immaculate table linen we dine; otherwise we simply eat, and there are whole decades of civilization between the two. LINEN, PAST AND PRESENT Linen is a fabric with a past: it clothed the high priests of Israel for their sacred offices, and comes as a voice from the tombs of Egypt, where it enwraps the mummies of the Pharaohs, telling of a skill in weaving so marvelous that even our improved machinery of to-day can produce nothing to approach it. And then it comes on down through the centuries to those nearer and dearer days of our grandmothers, when it was spun and woven by gentle fingers; while the halo of romance hovers over it even now as the German Hausfrau fills the dowry chest of her daughter in anticipation of the time when she, in turn, shall become a housewife. Small wonder that we love it, and guard jealously against a stain on its unblemished escutcheon. BLEACHED AND "HALF-BLEACHED" Belfast, Ireland, is the home of linen and damask. There are manufactories in both Scotland and France, but it is in Belfast that the fabric attains to the highest perfection, and "Irish linen" has come to be synonymous with excellence of design and weaving and luster--a most desirable trilogy. The prospective purchaser of table linen should go to her task fortified with some information on the subject, that she may not find herself totally at the mercy of the salesman, who often knows little about his line of goods beyond their prices. First of all she will probably he asked whether she prefers bleached or unbleached damask. The latter--called "half-bleach" in trade vernacular--is made in Scotland and comes in cheap and medium grades alone. Though it lacks the choiceness of design and the beauty and fineness of the Belfast bleached linens, it is good for everyday wear and quickly whitens when laid in the sun on grass or snow; while the fact that its cost is somewhat less than that of the corresponding quality in the bleached damask, and that it wears better, recommends it to many. Occasionally the chemicals used in the bleaching process are made overstrong to hasten whitening, with the result that the fibers rot after a while and little cut-like cracks appear in the fabric. This is not usual, but of course the unbleached damask precludes all possibility of such an occurrence. One firm in Belfast still conscientiously employs the old grass-and-sun system of bleaching, and their damask is plainly marked "Old Bleach." The half-bleach is sold both by the yard and in patterns. DAMASK Damask, by the way, takes its name from the city of Damascus where the fabric was first made, and is simply "linen so woven that a pattern is produced by the different directions of the thread," plain damask being the same fabric, but unfigured. The expression "double damask" need occasion no alarm; it does not imply double cost, a double cloth, or double anything except a double, or duplicate, design, produced by the introduction of an extra thread so woven in that the figure appears exactly the same on both sides of the cloth, making it reversible. QUALITY The next thing will be to decide between buying by the yard and buying a pattern cloth in which the border continues without a break all the way around, adding about ten per cent to the price. The designs in both cloths are the same in corresponding qualities. We are knights and ladies of the round table these days, and cloths woven specially for use thereon, with an all-round center design, come only in patterns. Cloths of this description are used also on square tables, as the wreath effect is very decorative. As to the quality of damask, it depends not so much upon weight--for the finest cloths are by no means the heaviest--as upon the size of the threads and the closeness and firmness with which they are woven. Avoid the loosely woven fabric; it will neither wear nor look so well as the one in which the threads are more compact. In the better damasks the threads are smoother and finer in finish. DESIGN Styles in table linens change from time to time and render it difficult to say what may or may not be used with propriety, except that the general principle of coarse, heavy-looking designs being in poor taste always holds good. One pattern alone has proven itself, and stood the test of time so satisfactorily that it is as high as ever in the good housekeeper's favor, with no prospect of falling from grace--our old friend the dainty, modest snowdrop, a quiet, unobtrusive little figure in a garden array of roses, English violets, lilacs, tulips, irises, and poppies--for these are flowery times in linens. Occasionally we meet with a scroll or fern design, though the latter is gradually falling into disuse as being too stiff to twine and weave into graceful lines. So true to nature and so exquisitely woven are these posy patterns that they form in themselves a most charming table decoration. In order to secure perfect reproduction a manufacturer in Belfast has established and maintains a greenhouse where his designers draw direct from the natural flower. This care is but the outgrowth of the more refined living which demands that beauty shall walk hand-in-hand with utility. PRICE AND SIZE Before our housekeeper starts a-shopping she must lock up her zeal for economy lest it lead her away from the straight and narrow way of good taste into that broader path which leads to the bargain counter. She may as well make up her mind at once that desirable table linen is not cheap, the sorts offered at a very low price being neither economical nor desirable, and that a cheap cloth which cheapens all of its surroundings is dearly bought at any price. Occasionally the experienced shopper can pick up at a sale of odd-length or soiled damasks something which is really a good offering, particularly during the annual linen sale which falls in January. But as a rule beware of bargains! The fabric is liable to be a "second" with some imperfection, or to contain a thread of cotton which gives it a rough look when laundered, and there is generally a shortage in width--which suggests the advisability of measuring the table top before buying, for cloths come in different widths, and one which is too narrow looks out-grown and awkward and--stingy! The average table is about 4 feet across, and requires a cloth 2 yards square, though in buying by the yard it is safe to allow an extra quarter for straightening the edges and hemming. The cloth should hang at least a foot below the edge of the table, with an increase of half a yard in length for each additional table leaf. A cloth 2 yards square will seat four people; 2 by 2 1/2, six; 2 by 3, eight; 2 by 3 1/2, ten; and 2 by 4, twelve. A wider table calls for a half or a quarter of a yard more in the width of the cloth, at some little additional cost, as fewer cloths in extra widths are made or called for. Usually a good pattern runs through three qualities of table linen, with napkins in two sizes to match--22-inch for breakfast and luncheon use, and 24-inch for dinner. These are the standard sizes most generally used, though napkins are to be had both larger and smaller. A napkin should be soft and pliable, and large enough to cover the knees well. Prices on all-linen bleached satin damask pattern cloths, with accompanying napkins, are about as appear in the list on the opposite page: CLOTHS. GOOD QUALITY. BETTER. EXTRA GOOD. 2 x 2 yards, each $2.00-$2.75 $3.50 $4.50-$5.25 2 x 2 1/2 " " 2.50- 3.50 4.50 5.75- 6.75 2 x 3 " " 3.00- 4.25 5.25 6.75- 8.00 2 x 3 1/2 " " 3.50- 4.85 6.25 8.00- 9.25 2 x 4 " " 4.00- 5.50 7.00 9.00-10.75 2 1/4 x 2 1/4 " " 2.90- 3.75 4.50 6.00- 7.75 2 1/2 x 2 1/2 " " 4.25- 4.50 5.25 7.50- 8.75 2 1/2 x 3 " " 5.00- 5.50 6.25 9.00-10.50 2 1/2 x 3 1/2 " " 6.25- 6.50 7.50 10.50-12.25 2 1/2 x 4 " " 7.00- .... 8.50 12.00-14.00 2 1/2 x 4 1/2 " " .......... .... 13.50-14.75 2 1/2 x 5 " " .......... .... 15.00-17.50 2 3/4 x 2 3/4 " " .......... .... 11.00-13.00 3 x 3 " " .......... .... 15.00-16.00 86 x 90 inches, " 3.50 86 x 108 " " 4.25 86 x 136 " " 5.00 86 x 144 " " 5.75 NAPKINS. 22 x 22 inches, dozen $2.50-$3.00 $3.75 $5.00-$5.50 23 x 23 " " 3.00 .... 5.25 7.00- 7.50 24 x 24 " " 3.00- 3.75 .... 25 x 25 " " 3.50 .... 5.25 27 x 27 " " 6.25- 7.50 .... The 3x3 yards cloth is called a banquet cloth, and is one for which the average housekeeper would have little use. NECESSARY SUPPLY The amount of table linen to be bought for the first "fitting out" depends upon the fatness of the pocketbook and the room available for stowing it away. Since there are so many other expenses at this time the best way will probably be to buy all that will be needed for a year, and then add to it one or two cloths with their napkins each succeeding year. Three cloths of the right length for everyday use, and one long "family-gathering" cloth, with a dozen napkins to match each, will be a good start. If the special-occasion cloth seems to be too costly, two short cloths of duplicate pattern can be substituted for it, the centerpiece and a clever arrangement of decorations hiding the joining. If table linen is to be stored away and not used for some time after its purchase, the dressing which it contains must be thoroughly washed out, else the chemicals are liable to rot the fabric. It is advisable, too, to put not-to-be-used damask away rough-dry, otherwise it may crack, in the folds. The use of colored table linens is in the worst possible taste, except on the servants' table. Those flaming ferocities known as "turkey-red" cloths, which seem to fairly fly at one, are not only inartistic but altogether too suggestive of economy in laundering to be appetizing table companions. PLAIN, HEMSTITCHED, OR DRAWN Cloths bought by the yard must be evened at the ends by drawing a thread, and hemmed by hand, never stitched on the machine. The inch hem of a few years ago has been superseded by the very narrow one which is always in good taste, regardless of style. Napkins come by the piece and must be divided and hemmed on two sides, rubbing well between the hands first to remove the stiffness. There is nothing handsomer or more elegant than the fine, hemmed table linen, but if a hemstitched cloth is desired, or one containing some drawn-work design, it is better to buy the material and do the work oneself; otherwise; the expense goes into the work, not the linen, and the cost is usually about double that of the same cloth plainly finished. Hemstitching and fancy work are appropriate only on cloths for the luncheon table, which may be of either plain or figured damask, or of heavy linen, which is often effectively combined with Battenberg and linen laces. Neither drawn work nor hemstitching wears well, drawing the threads seeming to weaken the fabric. Very pretty luncheon cloths can be purchased in different sizes for $1.50, $1.75, $2.00, $2.75, etc., according to size, material, and elaboration, with accompanying napkins, 18 by 18 inches, for $2.50 or more a dozen. A cloth just the size of the table top is a convenient luncheon size. These cloths save much wear on the large cloths, and laundry work as well. DOILIES AND TABLE DRESSING The pretty present-day fashion of using individual plate doilies on a polished table at breakfast and luncheon is also labor-saving. The plate doilies, either square, oval, or round, and of plain damask or smooth, closely woven, rather heavy linen, are hemstitched or finished with a padded scallop worked with white cotton. The round doily is most used, and offers a delightful field to the worker in over-and-over embroidery for the display of her skill. Linen lace combinations are also used, but they are rather for dress-up than for daily use. The plate doilies should be at least 9 inches wide, with smaller corresponding ones on which to set the glass of water or the hot cup, and an extra one or two for small dishes for relishes and the like that may be kept on the table, etc. They can he bought for 25 cents a piece and upward, but the average housekeeper enjoys making her own, taking them for "pick-up" work. Small fringed napkins are also used in the same way, and for tray covers, but fringe soon grows to look "dog-eared," and mats in the laundering. Still another dressing for the bare table is the long hemstitched linen strip, 12 inches wide, which runs the length of the table, hanging over the end, and is crossed at the middle by a second strip extending over the sides, two strips thus seating four people. When six are to be seated the cross-piece is moved to one side and a third corresponding strip placed about 18 inches from it. The list of table linen is incomplete without a damask carving cloth to match each tablecloth, which it protects from spatterings from the platter. This also may be fashioned of plain linen, should be about three-quarters of a yard wide and a yard long, and either hemstitched or scalloped--embroidered, too, if one cares to put that much energy into work which will show so little. And then there must be some doilies to overlay the Canton-flannel-covered asbestos mats for use under hot dishes. CENTERPIECES Styles in centerpieces are fleeting; just now all-white holds sway, and of a surety there is nothing daintier. Although pretty centers can be purchased all the way up from $1, here again the mistress's industrious fingers come into play, for there is a certain unbuyable satisfaction in working a little of one's very self into the table adornment, and really handsome centerpieces are quite expensive. They run in sizes from 12 to 45 inches. The center with doilies to match is pretty and desirable. It is quite as easy to arrange them in this way as to gather in an ill-assorted, mismated collection. Those for daily use should be rather simple and of a quality which will not suffer from frequent intercourse with the washtub. MONOGRAMS The fashion of embroidering monograms on table linen must be handled with care; the working over-and-over of the padded letters with fine cotton thread is a nice task which requires experience and skill. The cloth monograms are from 2 to 3 inches high and are placed at one side of the center, toward the corner. Either the full monogram or an initial is appropriate in the corner of the napkin, and to be in the best taste should never be more than an inch high. These letters are either plain, in circlets, or surrounded with running vines, and add that distinction to the napery which handwork always imparts. CARE OF TABLE LINEN Table linen, like friendship, must be kept constantly in repair. Look out for the thin places and darn before they have a chance to wear through. Ravelings from the cloth should be kept for this purpose. A carefully applied patch or darn is scarcely noticeable after laundering. The hardest wear comes where the cloth hangs over the edge of the table, at head and foot. When it begins to be thin at these places cut off one end at the worn point, if the cloth is sufficiently long to warrant it, and hem the raw edge. This draws the other worn place well up on the table where the friction is much less, considerably lengthening the life of the cloth. The cut-off end may be converted into fringed napkins, on which to lay croquettes, fried potatoes, etc., doilies for bread and cake plates, children's napkins, or tray covers. Old table linen passes through several stages of decline before it becomes absolutely useless; when too much worn for table purposes it enwraps our bread and cake and strains our jellies, and when at last it has won the well-earned rest of age, it still waits in neat rolls to bandage our cuts and bruises. HOW TO LAUNDER There is a saying that "Old linen whitens best," to which we might also add that it looks best, gaining additional smoothness and gloss with each laundering. Table linen should never dry on the line, but be brought in while still damp, very carefully folded, and ironed bone-dry, with abundant "elbowgrease." This is the only way to give it a "satin gloss." _Never_ use starch. The pieces should be folded evenly and carefully, with but one crease--down the middle--and not checker-boarded with dozens of lines. Centers and large doilies are best disposed of by rolling over a round stick well padded. TABLE PADS Much wear and tear on both table and cloth is prevented by the use of a double-faced Canton-flannel pad, which prevents the cloth from cutting through on the edges, gives it body, softens the clatter of the dishes, and absorbs liquids. It comes in 1 1/2- and 1 3/4-yard widths and sells for 65 to 85 cents a yard. Pads of asbestos are also used, but are far more expensive. It is a good plan to have two if possible--one for use on the everyday table, and a longer one to cover the family-gathering table. Covers for the sideboard and any small table used in the dining room are of hemstitched or scalloped linen, either plain or embroidered--never ruffled or fluffy. READY-MADE BED LINEN Buying bed linen is not so very serious a matter. Drygoods stores offer sheets and pillowcases ready made to fit any sized bed or pillow at prices little, if any, greater than the cost of those made at home. Merchants say that they sell one hundred sheets ready made to one by the yard, which speaks well, not for their goods alone, but for the spirit of housewifely economy which maintains that labor saved is time and strength earned. Moreover, the deluded seeker after bed beauty who wastes her precious hours in hemstitching sheets and pillowcases--cotton ones at that--is a reckless spendthrift, and needs a course in the economics of common sense. Nothing is more desirable than the simple elegance of the plain, broad hem, nor more disheartening than hemstitching which has broken from its moorings while the rest of the sheet is still perfectly good--a way it has. Hem-stitching may answer on linen sheets which are not in constant use, but ordinarily let us have the more profitable plainness. Good sheets are always torn--not cut--and finished with a 2 1/2- or 3-inch hem at the top and an inch hem at the bottom, the finished sheet measuring not less than 2 3/4 yards. There must be ample length to turn back well over the blankets and to tuck in at the foot, for it is a most irritating sensation to waken in the night with the wool tickling one's toes and scratching one's chin. Sheets are to be had in varying widths to suit different sized beds. PRICE AND QUALITY The 2 3/4-yard length in an average sheet of good quality costs 90 cents for a double bed, 75 cents for a three-quarter bed, and 45 cents for a single bed, with hemstitched sheets of corresponding quality at the same price. It is hardly worth while to pay more than this, while very good sheets are to be had for 75 cents, with a decrease in price as the width decreases. Half-bleach double-bed sheets of good quality cost 85 and 70 cents, and so on, and are more especially for servants' beds. They are popularly supposed to outwear the bleached, but are somewhat trying bedfellows until whitened. Plain or hemstitched pillowcases cost from 25 to 75 cents a pair, each additional width raising the price 5 cents. The average or sleeping-size pillow is 22 1/2 by 36 1/2 inches, and calls for a case enough larger to slip on easily, but not loose nor long enough to hang over the sides of the bed. If pillows of different sizes are in use their cases should be numbered. Bed linen should be firmly woven, with a thread rather coarse than fine. The amount purchased must be regulated by the number of beds to be furnished, allowing three sheets and three pairs of cases to each. The supply can always be easily added to, but if expedient for any reason to buy in large quantities, set apart enough to supply all the beds and keep the rest in reserve, otherwise it will all give out at once. If the housewife is so unfortunately situated that she is forced to make her own bed linen, she will do well to buy her material by the piece--40 to 50 yards. All hems can be run on the machine. REAL LINEN Though not everyone likes the "feel" of linen, most housekeepers are ambitious to include a certain amount with their other bed linens, for use in the summer or during illness, because of its non-absorbent qualities. Sheets cost $3, $3.50, $4, $5, $6, and on up to $17, the more expensive ones being embellished with hemstitching, scallops, or lace. Pillowcases to correspond sell at from $1.25 up. Linen for this purpose is always bleached, the 90-inch sheeting being $1 to $3 a yard, the 45-inch pillowcasing 50 cents to $1.50 a yard, and 50-inch casing 75 cents to $2 a yard. Inch-high monograms or letters may be embroidered in white at the middle of sheets and pillowcases, just above the hem. When sheets wear thin down the center, tear and "turn," whipping the selvages together and hemming the torn edges, which become the new edges of the sheet. Old bed linen makes the finest kind of cleaning cloths, and should be folded neatly away for that purpose, sheets being reserved for the ironing board. SUGGESTIONS ABOUT TOWELS Towels are best purchased by the dozen, huck of Irish bleached linen being best for all-around use. These have good absorbent qualities, plain or hemstitched hems, measure from 18 by 36 inches to 24 by 42 inches, and cost from $2.50 to $6 a dozen. Some of these are "Old Bleach" linen, and therefore both desirable and durable. Pass by towels with colored borders; the colored part is always cotton, and is in poor taste anyway. Some huck towels have damask borders; other towels are of all-damask, costing from $6 to $12 a dozen, but huck is the stand-by. Fringed towels, of course, are not to be considered for a moment. Each member of the family should have his own individual towel, or set of towels, distinguished by some mark, particularly children, who find it hard to learn that towels are for drying, not cleansing, purposes. Those for their use may be smaller and cheaper. Turkish or bath towels are of either cotton or linen, the latter being more for friction purposes and costing $6 to $12 a dozen. The cotton absorbs better and is most generally used for the bath. Good values in towels of this kind are to be had for $2.50, $2.85, $3, and $4.50 a dozen. Good crash face cloths cost 5 cents and even less. Household linens must include, too, the 6 barred-linen kitchen towels at 10, 12, or 15 cents a yard, for drying silver and glass; and 6 heavier towels, either barred or crash, for china and other ware, at the same price, with 3 roller towels at 10 cents per yard; while last, but by no means least, come the dozen neatly hemmed cheesecloth dusters at 5 cents a yard, for men must work and women must sweep--and dust! CHAPTER VI THE KITCHEN The old condition of "Queen-Anne-in-the-front-and-Mary-Ann-in-the-back" in the home furnishing, when the largest outlay of money and taste was put into the "front room" and the kitchen took the hindermost, has gradually given way before the fact that a woman is known, not by the drawing-room, but by the kitchen, she keeps. Given the requisite qualifications for the proper furnishing, care, and ordering of her kitchen, and it can usually be said of her with truth that she is mistress of the entire home-making and home-keeping situation. If any one room in the home was conceived solely for the relief of man's estate, that room is the kitchen, and it has supplied the energy which has sent forth many a one to fight a winning battle with the world, the flesh, and the devil; and while it is, alas, too true that it is the rock upon which many a domestic ship has gone to pieces, it is the true foundation of the home and, therefore, of the nation. Wherefore let us first look well to our kitchens and then live up to them. THE PLAN The kitchen of our grandmothers was a large, rambling affair, with numerous storerooms, closets, and pantries, the care of which involved a stupendous outlay of time and strength. But the demands of our modern and more strenuous life necessitate strict economy of both, and the result is a kitchen sufficiently large for all practical purposes, with every space utilized and everything convenient to the hand. The amount of woodwork is reduced to a minimum, since wood is a harboring place for insects and germs. Where it must be used it is of hard wood, or of pine painted and varnished, the varnish destroying those qualities in paint which are deleterious to health. The plumbing must be open, with no dark corners in which dust may hide. Odors from cooking pass out through a register in the chimney, and ventilation is afforded by transom and window. Blessed indeed is the kitchen with opposite windows, which insure a perfect circulation of air. So much for the general working plan. LOCATION AND FINISH For some reason best known to themselves architects almost invariably give to the kitchen the location with the least agreeable outlook, sun and scenery being seemingly designed for the exclusive use of living and dining rooms; whereas the housekeeper realizes the great value of the sun as an aid to sanitation and as a soul strengthener, and wishes that its beneficent influence might be shed over kitchen, cook, and cookery. But the frequent impossibility of this only increases the necessity for simulating sunshine within, and so we select cream white, warm, light grays or browns, Indian red, or bronze green--which is particularly good with oak woodwork--for walls and ceilings. Waterproof paper may be used, but is not particularly durable. Far better is the enameled paint, requiring three coats, or painted burlap. Or our thoughts may turn with longing to a white-tiled kitchen, with its air of spotless purity, but, too often, "beyond the reach of you and me." Why not substitute for it the white marbled oilcloth which produces much the same effect, and can be smoothly fitted if a little glue is added to the paste with which it is put on? A combination of white woodwork with blue walls and ceiling is charming, particularly where the blue-enameled porcelain-lined cooking utensils are used, and the same idea can be carried out in the floor covering. White with yellow is also dainty. Calcimine is not desirable in the kitchen, as it cannot be cleaned and is, therefore, unsanitary. Two tablespoonfuls of kerosene added to the cleaning water will keep woodwork, walls, and ceilings fresh and glossy. A long-handled mopholder fitted with a coarse carriage sponge will facilitate the cleaning of the latter. [Illustration: The kitchen.] THE FLOOR Despite the fact that we are enjoined to "look up, not down," the floor seems to be the focal point to anyone entering the kitchen, and it becomes a source of pride or humiliation to the occupant according to its condition. A beautiful, snowy hardwood floor, "clean enough to eat on," is a delight, but it has such an insatiable appetite for spots after the newness has worn off that it requires frequent scrubbing--twice a week at least--and on a dry day, if possible, with doors and windows opened during the operation, all of which means energy misapplied. To be sure, the new "colonial" cotton-rag rugs, woven in harmony with the general color scheme, protect the floor and help to relieve the strain of much standing, and can he washed and dried as satisfactorily as any piece of cotton cloth; while raw oil, applied with a soft cloth or a handful of waste every two months, will keep the floor in good condition. But the housekeeper who chooses the better part covers her floor with linoleum at comparatively small cost, a piece good both in quality and design selling at 60 cents a square yard. In this, too, the color idea can be carried out, the smaller designs being preferable. Neutral tints follow wood-carpeting designs, are neat, and less apt to soil than the lighter patterns. It is a wise plan in buying to allow enough linoleum for three smaller pieces to be placed before stove, table, and sink, thus saving wear and tear on the large piece. Thus covered, the floor is easily cleaned with a damp cloth. It must be thoroughly swept once a day, followed by a general dusting of the room, with brushings up between times. THE WINDOWS Kitchen windows must he washed once a week--oftener in fly time. A dainty valance, or sash curtains of muslin, dimity, or other summer wash goods, give an attractive and homey touch to the room. Each window should have a shade with a double fixture, fastened at the middle of the casement and adjusted upward and below from that point. THE SINK The sink, unless it is porcelain-lined, should be kept well painted and enameled, white being preferable to any color. Faucets can be kept bright by rubbing with whiting and alcohol, followed by a vigorous polishing with a bit of flannel. It surely cannot be necessary to suggest the dangers arising from an untidy sink in which refuse of various kinds--tea leaves, coffee grounds, vegetable parings, and the like--is allowed to accumulate. Unsanitary conditions about the sink not only are unsightly, but attract roaches and breed germs which are a menace to life and health. The rinsing water from coffee and tea pots and cooking utensils should be poured into the sink strainer, which catches the odds and ends of refuse and keeps them from clogging the drain pipe. Grease must never be poured into the sink, nor dish nor cleaning cloths used after they are worn enough to shed lint. Boiling water and ammonia should be poured down the drain pipe once a day, which treatment must be supplemented once a week with a dose of disinfectant--chloride of lime, copperas, or potash in boiling water. An occasional inspection by a plumber makes assurance doubly sure that the condition of the drain pipe is as it should be. All refuse ought to be burned at once or put into a covered garbage can and disposed of as soon as possible. The can itself must be scalded every day with sal soda water, thoroughly dried, and lined with thick, clean paper. THE PANTRY The same treatment accorded the kitchen in decoration and care must be bestowed also upon the pantry, which should be dry and well ventilated. After a thorough scrubbing with soap and water, with the aid of a dish mop rinse the shelves with boiling water, dry carefully, and cover with plain white paper, using the ornamental shelf paper for the edges. White table oilcloth makes a good covering, and comes specially prepared with a fancy border for that purpose. The convenient pantry is equipped with both shelves and drawers, the latter to contain the neatly folded piles of dish, glass, and hand towels, cheesecloth dusters, holders, and cleaning cloths. There are usually four shelves, the top one being reserved for articles of infrequent use. On the others are arranged the kitchen dishes, pans, and all utensils which do not hang, together with jars and cans containing food. Leave nothing in paper bags or boxes to attract insects, soil the shelves, and give a disorderly appearance to an otherwise tidy pantry. Glass fruit jars are desirable repositories for small dry groceries--tea, coffee, rice, tapioca, raisins, currants, and the like--though very dainty and serviceable covered porcelain jars in blue and white are made especially for this purpose, those of medium size costing 25 cents each, the smaller ones less, the larger more. Jars or cans of japanned tin, designed for like use, are less expensive, but also less attractive, and in the course of time are liable to rust, particularly in summer, or where the climate is at all damp. The shelves should be wiped off and regulated once a week, and crockery and utensils kept as bright and shining as plenty of soap and hot water can make them. The pantry requires special care during the summer, when dust and flies are prone to corrupt its spotlessness. A wall pocket hung on the door will be found a convenient dropping place for twine, scissors, and papers. INSECTS AND THEIR EXTERMINATION It is not just pleasant to associate cockroaches and ants with our kitchens and pantries, but where heat and moisture and food are, there insects will be also, for they seem to enjoy a taste of high life and to thrive on it. Keep the house clean, dry, and well aired, and all dish and cleaning cloths sweet and fresh by washing and drying immediately after use, with a weekly boiling in borax water; dispose carefully of all food, and then wage a war of extermination. This is all that will avail in an insect-infested house. Hunt out, if possible, the nests or breeding places of ants and saturate with boiling water or with kerosene. Wash all woodwork, shelves, and drawers with carbolic-acid water and inject it into any crack or opening where the pests appear. It has been suggested that ants can be kept out of drawers and closets by a "dead line" drawn with a brush dipped in corrosive sublimate one ounce, muriate of ammonia two ounces, and water one pint, while a powder of tartar emetic, dissolved in a saucer of water, seems to be effective in driving them away. Sponges wet with sweetened water attract them in large numbers, and when full should be plunged in boiling water. Another successful "trap" is a plate thinly spread with lard, this also to be dropped into boiling water when filled. In order to protect the table from an invasion stand the legs in dishes of tar water to a depth of four inches. Ants have a decided distaste for the odors of pennyroyal and oil of cedar, a few drops of either on bits of cotton frequently sufficing to drive them away entirely. As for cockroaches, there appear to be almost as many "exterminators" as there are housewives; but what is their poison in one home seems to make them wax and grow fat in another. Borax and powdered sugar, scattered thickly over shelves and around baseboards and sink, is a favorite remedy with many, but it is an unsightly mess, particularly in summer, when the sugar melts and becomes sticky. After all, experience has demonstrated that the one really effectual method of extermination is to besiege the roaches in their own bailiwick--the pipes and woodwork about the sink--with a large bellows filled with a good, reliable insect powder. Exit roaches! THE REFRIGERATOR AND ITS CARE The refrigerator may or may not stand in the pantry, according to convenience, or as there is sewer connection for it. Some authorities maintain that there is grave danger from sewer gas where the refrigerator is connected directly with the sewer, and that, therefore, the only safe way to dispose of the waste water is to catch it in a pan placed beneath the refrigerator, unless the house is so built that the waste pipe can be continued down into the cellar and there empty its contents into a sink. A good, zinc-lined refrigerator, interlined with charcoal, with a hundred-pound capacity, a removable ice pan, which facilitates cleaning, and three shelves, is to be had for $16.50. In selecting a refrigerator it is well to choose one of medium size, as a larger one entails waste of ice, while a smaller necessitates the placing near together of foods which should be kept apart, as butter and milk with fish, fruit, etc. If one cares to invest in the higher-priced refrigerators, of course those lined with tile, porcelain, or enamel are very desirable, as they are easily kept clean and do not absorb odors. But for the average income and use, a first-class zinc-lined refrigerator answers every purpose. It should be thoroughly cleansed, on the mornings when the ice is to be renewed, with hot sal soda water followed by a cold bath and a thorough drying. The drain pipe must not be overlooked, but given the same sal soda treatment, otherwise it becomes coated and a fruitful source of germs. If, after this has been done, a musty odor still clings about the refrigerator, remove the shelves and boil in the clothes boiler for twenty minutes. Pieces of charcoal placed in the corners of the refrigerator and frequently renewed will absorb much of the odor. Never place warm food in the refrigerator, nor food of any kind on the shelves, unless it is first placed on a plate or platter. It is economy to keep the ice chamber well filled, and all ice should be well washed before being placed therein. Some housekeepers cover the ice, with newspapers or carpet. This no doubt helps to preserve it, but it also keeps the cold from the food chambers. No food and nothing containing it should ever be placed directly on the ice. FURNISHING THE KITCHEN And now, having cleaned and decorated our kitchen and pantry, and provided for the refrigeration and partial disposal of our food, suppose we turn our attention to the fascinating task of selecting the different parts of the machinery which turns out that finished masterpiece--a perfect meal--bearing in mind in the meantime that the saying, "Art is the expression of joy in one's work," applies to nothing more truly than to the art of cookery, and that no tools necessary to its perfect success nor to her comfort and convenience should be denied that master artist, the cook, be she mistress or maid. THE STOVE Of paramount importance is, of course, the stove, and what kind it shall be, whether gas, coal, or oil. Those of us who have grown accustomed to the immunity from those inevitable accompaniments of a coal range, ashes, soot, dust, and heat, afforded by the gas range, with its easily regulated broiler and oven, could hardly be persuaded to go back to first principles, as it were, and the coal range. But when this is necessary, either for warmth or because there is no gas connection in the house, one has a wide choice of first-class stoves and can hardly go astray in selecting one. Twenty-one dollars will buy a good, durable stove with all modern improvements and a large oven. A stove with the same capacity but manufactured under a world-famous name sells for $32, while between the two in price is one at $28. Two firms manufacture, in connection with their regular line of ranges, a three-plate gas stove which can be attached directly to the range, and sells for $6. A portable steel oven, covering two burners, for use on gas and oil stoves alike, adds to the convenience of the gas plate, and sells for $2. If a gas range is desired, an excellent one with a large oven, broiler, and all conveniences may be purchased for $18, one with a smaller oven for $15. It might be well to suggest in passing that a small oven is poor economy. Water backs, for both gas and coal ranges, are $3.50 each. Where gas is unobtainable a three-burner wickless oil-stove plate will be found to give very good satisfaction, and can be placed on the coal range or on a table or box. The range of the same capacity is $1 more, with an increase in price corresponding with the number of burners, until we have the five-burner stove at $11. To do away with the odor which is apt to result from the use of oil as fuel, remove the burners, boil in sal soda water, dry thoroughly, and return to the stove. In setting up a stove look carefully to it that the height is right, otherwise the cook's back is sure to suffer. If too low, blocks can be placed under the legs to raise it to a comfortable height. A whisk broom hung near the stove is useful in removing crumbs, dust, etc., and keeping it tidy. A rack behind the stove, on which to hang the spoons and forks used in cooking, is a great convenience and a saving to the table top. THE TABLE AND ITS CARE The table should stand on casters and be placed in a good light as far from the stove as may be. The latest product of the manufacturer's genius in this line contains two drawers--one spaced off into compartments for the different knives, forks, and spoons for kitchen use--a molding board, and three zinc-lined bins, one large one for wheat flour, and two smaller one for graham flour, corn meal, etc. When one considers the economy of steps between kitchen and pantry which it makes possible, its price, $6.75, is not large, while it obviates the necessity for purchasing bins and molding board. Our friend, the white table oilcloth, tacked smoothly in place, gives a dainty top which is easily kept clean with a damp cloth--another labor-saving device, which stands between cook and scrubbing brush. A zinc table cover is preferred by some housewives, as it absorbs no grease and is readily brightened with scouring soap and hot water. Separate zinc-covered table tops can be had for $1.50. The marble-topped table is not desirable, for, though it undoubtedly is an aid to the making of good pastry, it stains easily, dissolves in some acids, and clogs with oils. The easiest way to keep the table clean and neat is simply to--keep it so. When the mixing of cake, pudding, etc., is in process, a large bowl should be near at hand, and into it should go egg beater, spoons, and forks when the cook is through using them, after which they, with all other soiled utensils, should be carried to the sink, washed, dried, and put away. Never lay eggshells upon the table nor allow anything to dry on the utensils. If, as occasionally happens even in the best-regulated kitchens, one is baking in too great a hurry to observe all these precautions, a heavy paper spread on the table will catch all the droppings and can be rolled up and burned. Jars containing sugar, spices, etc., which have been in use, should be wiped with a damp cloth before returning to the pantry. THE CHAIRS The first aid to the cook should be at least one comfortable chair, neither a rocking chair nor one upholstered, both of which are out of place in the kitchen; but one low enough to rest in easily while shelling peas or doing some of the numerous tasks which do not require the use of the table. A chair of this kind has a cane seat and high back and can be purchased for $1.25, the other chair to be of the regulation kitchen style at 55 cents. The second aid is a 24-inch office stool at 85 cents, for use while washing dishes, preparing vegetables, etc. This sort of a stool is light, easily moved about, and means a great saving in strength. Though it has sometimes been dubbed a "nuisance" by the uninitiated, the woman who has learned its value finds it a very present help and wonders how she ever did without it. THE KITCHEN CABINET Occasionally it happens that a house is built with such slight regard for pantry room that we are constrained to wonder if, at the last minute, the pantry was not tucked into a little space for which there was absolutely no other use, and there left to be a means of grace to the thrifty housewife, whose pride it is to see her pots and pans in orderly array and with plenty of room to shine in. At this point there comes to her rescue the kitchen cabinet, which not only relieves the congestion in the pantry, but adds in no small measure to the attractiveness of the kitchen. These cabinets come in the natural woods, and should, as nearly as possible, match the woodwork of the kitchen. Many have the satin finish which renders them impervious to grease, and all are fitted out with molding boards, shelves, cupboards, and drawers of various sizes. So convenient is a cabinet of this kind, and so economical of steps, that it might well be called "the complete housewife." First and foremost, it accommodates the kitchen dishes, plates, platters, and saucers, standing on edge of course, with cups hanging from small hooks, and pitchers, bowls, etc., variously arranged. Then come the jars of spice, sugar, salt, tea, and coffee--all groceries, in fact, which are in most frequent use. Where the decorative design in both jars and dishes is carried out in the blue and white, with a utensil or two of the same coloring, the effect is truly charming, though this is, of course, a matter of individual taste. The cupboards are handy hiding places for the less ornamental bottles, brushes, etc., while the base, which is really nothing more nor less than a very complete kitchen table, usually has a shelf for kettles, stone jars, etc. A good cabinet can be had for $10, a more commodious one for $16, and so on. The cabinets without bases range from a tiny one, just large enough to hold six spice jars, at $1, to one, with five drawers, shelves, and cupboards with glass doors, for $6. Any price beyond this simply means elaboration of design without additional increase of capacity or convenience. KITCHEN UTENSILS In selecting dishes and cooking utensils it is well to remember that cheapness does not always spell economy, and that one buys not alone for the present, but for the future as well. Utensils which require scouring are not economical, either, for scouring is friction, and "friction means loss of energy." Scouring has gone out with the heavy ironware which required it, in whose stead we have the pretty porcelain enamel ware and the less expensive agate ware, both of which need only a thorough washing in hot, soapy water, rinsing in boiling water, and careful drying. Ware of this kind helps to produce the kitchen restful, and so, indirectly, the cook rested. A well-cared-for kitchen is always more or less attractive, but why not make it rather more so than less? Taste and harmony add nothing to the expense of furnishing, and there is a certain dignity and inspiration, as well as satisfaction, in being able to "bring forth butter in a lordly dish." Kitchen crockery is being rapidly supplanted by the porcelain enamel dishes, which, though rather more expensive in the beginning, are unbreakable, and so cheaper in the long run. They are even invading the domain of the faithful yellow mixing bowl and becoming decidedly popular therein, being light in weight and more easily handled. The complete equipment of the kitchen is a more costly operation than one is apt to imagine, individual items amounting comparatively to so little. But the sum total is usually a rather surprising figure. And so, remembering that Rome was not built in a day, carefully select those things which are really the essentials of every day, adding the useful non-essentials bit by bit. The size and number of utensils must be governed by the size of the family in which they are to be used. Never buy anything of copper for kitchen use, as the rust to which it is liable is a dangerous poison. There is one utensil only which is better to be of iron--the soup kettle--as it makes possible the slow simmering which is necessary for good soups and stews. It is not worth while to buy knives of anything but wrought steel, which are best cleaned with pumice stone. Cheesecloth for fish bags and strainers, and strong cotton for pudding bags must not be overlooked. And so, with kitchen complete, artistic, and satisfactory in every detail, it remains but to emphasize two facts--that perfect cleanliness is absolutely essential to health, and that she who looketh well to the ways of her kitchen eateth not the bread of idleness. The following list may be too extensive for some purposes, not suited to others, but out of it the new housekeeper can select what she thinks her establishment will need, and estimate the price of stocking her kitchen with those necessaries which make for good housekeeping: 1 dozen individual jelly molds........................ $0.60 1 griddle............................................. .35 1 small funnel........................................ .03 1 large funnel........................................ .06 1 gas toaster......................................... .55 1 coal toaster........................................ .08 1 gas broiler......................................... .65 1 coal broiler........................................ .32 1 six-quart iron soup kettle.......................... 1.50 1 skimmer............................................. .14 1 small ladle......................................... .09 1 porcelain enamel dipper............................. .40 1 porcelain enamel sink strainer...................... .40 1 towel rack.......................................... .10 1 clock............................................... 1.00 1 purée sieve, with pestle............................ .18 2 galvanized iron refrigerator pans................... .50 1 dozen dish towels................................... 1.20 6 dishcloths.......................................... .30 1 set of scales....................................... .95 1 vegetable slicer.................................... .25 2 butter paddles...................................... .12 1 can opener.......................................... .08 1 potato ricer........................................ .25 1 apple corer......................................... .05 1 chopping bowl....................................... .15 1 tea kettle.......................................... 1.05 1 ice pick............................................ .12 1 pair scissors....................................... .23 1 scrub brush......................................... .20 1 sink brush.......................................... .08 1 mop handle.......................................... .38 1 oil can............................................. .35 1 whisk broom......................................... .15 1 small porcelain enamel pitcher...................... .26 1 two-quart porcelain enamel pitcher.................. .55 1 cake turner......................................... .08 1 porcelain enamel wash basin......................... .28 1 potato scoop........................................ .18 1 towel roller........................................ .10 1 rolling-pin......................................... .15 1 four-quart porcelain enamel saucepan, with cover.... .57 1 eight-quart porcelain enamel bread bowl............. .72 1 gravy strainer...................................... .18 1 nutmeg grater....................................... .09 1 spatula............................................. .25 1 egg beater.......................................... .10 1 dish mop............................................ .05 2 iron baking pans.................................... .20 1 collander........................................... .35 1 ten-inch porcelain enamel bowl...................... .35 2 eight-inch porcelain enamel bowls................... .48 3 five-inch porcelain enamel bowls.................... .33 1 fryer and basket.................................... 1.50 4 bread pans.......................................... .60 1 two-quart double boiler............................. .95 2 dish pans (agate)................................... 1.10 1 omelet pan.......................................... .10 1 porcelain enamel teapot............................. .65 1 porcelain enamel coffeepot.......................... .85 6 porcelain enamel plates............................. .78 1 porcelain enamel platter............................ .40 1 porcelain enamel platter (small).................... .35 6 porcelain enamel cups and saucers................... 1.14 Dredging boxes for salt, pepper, and flour............ .35 3 pie tins. .......................................... .12 1 galvanized iron garbage can, with cover............. .50 1 large dripping pan.................................. .17 1 small dripping pan.................................. .15 1 lemon squeezer...................................... .05 1 molding board....................................... .40 4 layer-cake tins..................................... .16 2 porcelain sugar jars................................ .50 6 porcelain spice jars................................ .60 1 half-pint tin cup................................... .05 1 six-quart milk pan.................................. .23 1 four-quart milk pan................................. .17 3 wrought-steel knives................................ .48 3 wrought-steel forks................................. .48 1 egg spoon........................................... .08 1 dozen muffin rings.................................. .46 1 biscuit pan......................................... .25 1 round fluted cake tin............................... .12 2 basting spoons...................................... .24 6 kitchen knives...................................... .50 6 kitchen forks....................................... .50 6 kitchen teaspoons................................... .48 3 kitchen tablespoons................................. .15 3 asbestos mats....................................... .15 1 chopping knife...................................... .20 1 wire dishcloth...................................... .12 1 flour scoop......................................... .19 1 sugar scoop......................................... .10 1 meat grinder........................................ 1.50 1 soap shaker......................................... .10 1 flour sifter........................................ .25 1 coffee mill......................................... .50 2 measuring cups...................................... .15 1 meat fork........................................... .09 1 larding needle...................................... .10 2 brooms.............................................. .60 1 long-handled hair broom............................. 1.45 1 dustpan............................................. .12 1 scouring box........................................ .50 1 draining rack....................................... .10 1 bread knife......................................... .25 1 cake knife.......................................... .20 1 meat knife ......................................... .55 1 peeling knife....................................... .10 1 bread box........................................... .70 1 cake box............................................ .70 1 three-quart porcelain enamel saucepan............... .36 1 oblong loaf-cake tin................................ .15 1 jelly mold.......................................... .30 1 wooden spoon........................................ .05 1 salt box............................................ .25 1 pepper box.......................................... .10 1 graduated quart measure............................. .16 3 small vegetable brushes............................. .15 1 dozen glass fruit jars.............................. .60 2 two-quart porcelain enamel saucepans................ 1.00 1 grater.............................................. .18 1 paper scrub pail.................................... .25 2 two-quart agate pans................................ .36 CHAPTER VII THE LAUNDRY What visions of dampness and disorder, of air malodorous with steam and soap, of meals delayed and hurriedly prepared, of tempers ruffled and the domestic machinery all disarranged and the discomforts of home prominently in the foreground, are called forth by that magic word--washday! And yet, maligned though it be, it really is the day of all the week the best; for does it not minister more than any one other to our comfort and self-respect and general well-being? It may be "blue Monday" or blue Tuesday or blue any-other-day, but we very soon come out of the azure when it is achieved and we find ourselves entering upon another week's enjoyment of that virtue which is akin to godliness. In the brief interim of upheaval we may possibly wish we could hark back to the days of the "forty-niner," who solved his individual problem of personal cleanliness by simply dropping his soiled clothing into a boiling spring, where it was turned and churned and twisted and finally flung out, a clean and purified testimonial to Mother Nature's ability as a laundress. Or perhaps the pretty pastoral of the peasant girl knee deep in the brook, rubbing her household linen on the stones, hath even greater charms. But the trouble is that we are neither "forty-niners" nor peasants, but just plain, latter-day housekeepers with a laundry problem to face, and finding that it, like most other problems, is best solved by attacking it boldly, systematically, and according to certain fixed rules. [Illustration: The laundry.] LAUNDRY REQUISITES The home laundry must be well ventilated and lighted, and in the basement if possible, for obvious reasons, the chief being the relief thus afforded to the otherwise congested kitchen and overburdened kitchen stove, while at the same time one other menace to health--the steam generated by the washing and drying--is removed from the main part of the house. It is highly essential that the laundry be properly and completely equipped for the work of washing, boiling, drying, and ironing. Stationary tubs are much to be desired, those porcelain-lined being more sanitary than either soapstone, which has a tendency to absorb grease, or wood, which absorbs the uncleanness from the soiled linen. It is especially necessary that the tubs be as impervious as possible when the linen is soaked overnight. If tubs are to be bought, the paper ones have a decided advantage over the more well-known cedar ones in being much lighter and consequently more easily handled, with only a slight difference in price. It seems so well worth while to minimize the strain of heavy lifting when and wherever one can, since washing at best involves much hard work and fatigue. THE STOVE AND FURNISHINGS The stove for laundry use may be either gas, oil, or coal, the latter being considered the most economical of fuel, while it often comes in very handy in the preparation of foods which require long stewing or simmering. The wringer should be of medium size, either wooden or iron-framed, the former having the advantage of lightness, the latter of strength. The screws must be loosened after each washing and thoroughly dried. Any particles of rust can be removed with kerosene. The following list gives a very fair idea of the essentials of the well-furnished laundry, and their cost: 2 paper tubs................................ $2.40 1 wringer................................... 3.75 1 block-tin boiler with copper bottom....... 2.15 1 washboard................................. .25 1 paper pail................................ .25 1 long-handled starch spoon................. .08 1 long-handled dipper....................... .12 1 set clothes bars ......................... .95 1 wash bench ............................... .75 1 fifty-foot hemp line...................... .20 1 ironing board, or ) ...................... .95 1 skirt-board ) ...................... .50 3 Mrs. Potts' nickel-plated irons........... 2.85 1 sleeve and ruffle iron.................... .35 1 iron rest................................. .08 1 clothes stick............................. .10 1 clothes basket............................ .80 5 dozen clothespins......................... .10 2 pieces beeswax............................ .05 IRONS AND HOLDERS If the ordinary flatirons are preferred, they may be had at 5 cents a pound. They require, of course, the use of a good, stout holder, asbestos covered with ticking affording the best protection to the hand. Slip cases are nice for use of this kind, as they can be taken off and washed. Pad the ironing board with Canton flannel or a coarse blanket, then draw tightly over it a white cotton cloth and fasten on the under side. The padding must be absolutely smooth and without a wrinkle. And there must be a piece of cheesecloth with which to wipe possible dust from the line, a scrubbing brush for the cleaning-up process which closes the washing drama, and the various preparations used to remove stains and assist in the cleansing of the linen and clothing--borax, starch, bluing, ammonia, oxalic acid, soda, kerosene, turpentine, etc. PREPARING THE "WASH" With all the "properties" in readiness, the fire burning well, and plenty of hot water to draw upon, the curtain rises on the laundress sorting the flannels, table linen, fine underwear, towels, and bed linen, colored clothes and stockings into separate piles, each to be disposed of in its turn, from fine articles down through to coarse, laying aside any which have stains. These stains she removes in a variety of ways, according to their nature, but removed they must be before going into the tub, where, in most instances, the hot suds will render them ineradicable, although it has the reverse effect on dirt. It is a wise plan to mark, with a black thread before putting in the wash, any stains which are apt to be overlooked by the laundress, and those on large pieces, such as bedspreads. REMOVING STAINS The removal of stains from white goods is comparatively easy. Fruit and wine stains are removed by stretching the fabric over a bowl and pouring boiling water through the stain, repeating until it disappears. Boiling milk is sometimes applied successfully to wine stains in the same way. A thick layer of salt rubbed into the stained portion and followed with the boiling-water treatment is also effective. Obstinate fruit stains yield to a thorough moistening with lemon, a good rubbing with salt (a combination which is to be found all prepared at the drug store under the name of Salts of Lemon), and the application of boiling water. When nothing else avails, immerse the stained portion in a weak solution of Javelle water--one half cup to one pail of boiling water--allow it to soak a few minutes, and then rinse thoroughly. Javelle water can be procured of the druggist, but is as well prepared at home by dissolving four pounds of ordinary washing soda in one gallon of water, boiling ten minutes, and then adding to it one pound of chloride of lime. It should be kept well corked, and resorted to in extreme cases alone, as it is violent in its action on the clothes. For this reason special care must be given to rinsing after its use. Tea and coffee stains usually surrender to boiling water, but if they prove obdurate rub in a little powdered borax and pour on more boiling water. Chocolate stains can be removed in the same way. Sprinkling the stain with borax and soaking first in cold water facilitates the action of the boiling water. Rub iron rust with lemon and salt, and lay in the sun, repeating until the spot disappears. This is usually all that is necessary, but if the stain is very stubborn, spread over a bowl containing one quart of water and one teaspoonful of borax. Apply hydrochloric acid, drop by drop, to the stain until it brightens, then dip at once into the water. If an ink stain is fresh, soak in milk, renewing the milk when it becomes discolored. If very dry and well set use lemon and salt or the Javelle-water treatment. Mildew, which results from allowing damp clothes to lie in the basket for a length of time, is obstinate and difficult to remove. Boil in salted buttermilk; or wet with lemon juice and stand in the sun. If these treatments are ineffectual, resort to diluted oxalic acid or Javelle water, a careful rinsing to follow the application. Grass stains may be treated in a like manner, or washed in alcohol. Ammonia and water, applied while the stain is fresh, will often remove it. Remove paint stains with benzene or turpentine, machine oil with cold water and Ivory soap, vaseline with turpentine. Peroxide of hydrogen applied to blood stains while they are still moist causes them to disappear at once. Soaking in cold water till the stains turn brown, then washing in warm water with soap is the usual treatment. If the stain is on thick goods, make a paste of raw starch and apply several times. Pencil marks on linen should be rubbed off with an eraser, as hot water sets them. Soap and water is the best agent for removing stains from colored goods, _provided the color is fast_. Moisten the article, soap the stain, and after a few minutes wash alternately with oil of turpentine and water. If not satisfactorily removed make a mixture of yolk of egg and oil of turpentine, spread on the stain, allow to dry, scrape off, and wash thoroughly in hot water. Tampering with stains on garments which are not warranted "fast color" is very risky, and often leaves the second state of the garments worse than the first. SOAKING AND WASHING The prologue of sorting the clothes and removing the stains being at an end, we are ready for the real "business" of the wash day--the washing itself--unless the laundress prefers to soak the clothes overnight. If so, dampen, soap well, particularly the most soiled spots, roll up and pack in the bottom of the tub, pour over tepid water, and leave till morning. Only the bed and body linen need be subjected to this treatment, as the table linen is rarely sufficiently soiled to require it, and the colored clothes and the stockings must never, under any circumstances, be allowed to stay in water beyond the time necessary to wash and rinse them. The water, if only hard water be obtainable, may be softened by the addition of a little ammonia or borax. Water which has been discolored by soil after heavy rains or by the repairing of water pipes, should be strained through Canton flannel before use. After soaking, the linen should be put through the wringer, which will take away much of the soil with the water, and then washed. As to the way in which this should be done there are various opinions, most methods in use by experienced laundresses being reliable. Each, however, usually has her favorite method of procedure which it is perhaps as well to allow her to follow. Pity 'tis, 'tis true, that many housekeepers are so ignorant of how the wash-day programme should really be conducted that they are incapable of directing the incompetent laundress. The mistress of the house needs also to be mistress of the laundry, guiding operations there as elsewhere, seeing to it that body and table linens are not washed together, flannels boiled, clothing rotted by overindulgence in sal soda, nor any other crimes committed against law and order in the laundry. WASHING POWDERS AND SOAP If bleaches of any kind are to be used--washing powders, sal soda, borax, and the like--it must be in either the soaking water or the boiler, and _very_ sparingly. Indeed, the use of bleaches at any time is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance. Though there is no hard-and-fast rule as to the order of precedence, it is well to wash the woolens first, after shaking them free from lint and dust. Prepare two tubs of lukewarm suds, the second very light, adding a little borax dissolved in boiling water to each. Never apply soap directly to the flannel, nor rub on a board, which mats the wool, but rub with the hands, squeezing and dipping up and down in the first water till clean, rinse in the second water, which should be of about the same temperature as the first, put through the wringer, shake well, pull into shape, and hang in the shade to dry. WASHING WOOLENS Woolens must never hang in the sun nor near the fire, as the too-quick drying causes them to shrink and harden. When nearly dry, press on the wrong side with a moderately hot iron. The rinsing water may be used for the first cotton wash. If both colored and white flannels are to be washed, the former should be done first, thus avoiding the lint washed from the latter. Drying can be accelerated by pressing repeatedly between soft cloths. If the ordinary washing fails to remove any of the spots, spread on a smooth board and rub with a soft, wet, soapy brush. WASHING THE WHITE CLOTHES Next comes the washing of the table linen, then the body linen, and then the bed linen, the process for each being the same, though the table linen requires the least rubbing. Wash in hot water in which the hand can be comfortably borne, soaping each piece well before it is rubbed, and paying particular attention to the hems of the sheets; drop into a second tub of clear, hot water, rinse, and wring into a boiler about half filled with cold water to which has been added one tablespoon of kerosene and sufficient soap chips to produce a good suds. Bring the water to a boil and boil ten minutes, stirring occasionally with the clothes stick, Too long boiling yellows the clothes, and crowding the boiler is to be avoided. From the boiler the clothes are lifted to a tub of clear, cold water, thoroughly rinsed, transferred to the tub of bluing water where they are well and evenly saturated, wrung out, and those which are not to be starched hung on the line where sun and breeze are most active. The bluing must be thoroughly mixed with the water. Clothes which have been carefully washed and rinsed need but little bluing. Hang sheets and tablecloths out straight and stretch the selvages even. Pillowcases should be hung by the seam opposite the hem. STARCH Prepare the starch by dissolving one half cup of starch in cold water, pour on this one quart of boiling water, and boil till clear and white, stirring constantly. When nearly ready to take from the stove add a little borax, lard, butter, or white wax. A teaspoonful of granulated sugar is believed by many to be the most desirable addition. This will be of the right consistency for ordinary articles--skirts, aprons, etc. The same degree of strength in starch will not suit all kinds of fabrics, collars, cuffs, etc., requiring the stronger solution made by doubling the amount of starch; thin lawns and other fine materials the weaker produced by doubling the amount of water. Dip each article in the hot starch, those requiring the most stiffening being dipped first, because it is necessary to thin the starch. See that the starch is evenly distributed, press out as much as possible with the hands, put through the wringer, shake out all creases, and pin evenly on the line. Additional stiffness is given by dipping the already starched and dried article in raw starch, which is made by moistening a handful of starch in a quart of cold water and rubbing in enough Ivory or other fine white soap to produce a very slight suds. Squeeze out the superfluous moisture, roll in a clean white cloth, and leave for half an hour. Iron while still damp. In stiffening pillowcases dilute the starch until it is of the consistency of milk. Mourning starch should be used for black goods. Never hang starched things out in freezing, damp, or windy weather. COLORED CLOTHES Colored articles must be washed, starched, dried, and ironed as speedily as possible. Prepare warm suds with Ivory or Castile soap and add to it a handful of salt to set the color. Wash each piece through this, and rinse through two clear waters to which just enough vinegar to taste has been added, the latter to brighten the color, then stiffen in cool starch and hang in the shade. When washing delicate colored fabrics a tablespoon of ox gall may be substituted for the salt. STOCKINGS Last come the stockings, which should be washed in clean water, first on the right side, then on the wrong, special care being bestowed upon the feet. Rinse in clear water, with a final rinsing in hot water to soften the fiber, and hang on the line wrong side out, toes up. Woolen stockings are washed in the same way as flannels. DAINTY LAUNDERING The dainty task of laundering centerpieces and doilies usually devolves upon their owner, unless the laundress has demonstrated her ability to cleanse and iron them properly. Wash in warm Ivory or Castile soapsuds, squeezing, dipping, and rubbing between the hands until clean, rinse thoroughly--otherwise the soap will yellow--bluing the last rinsing water very slightly, squeeze out (never wring) as much moisture as possible, and hang on the line, in the shade if out of doors. While still very damp lay face down on a thick flannel pad covered with a white cloth, and iron till dry. If the piece is large it can be turned and ironed lightly on the right side where there is no embroidery. Colored embroideries must never be sprinkled and rolled. Iron the linen of large lace-trimmed centerpieces, then lay on a bed or other flat surface, and stretch the lace by carefully pinning down each point. The cleansing of laces is best accomplished by basting on strips of cheesecloth, fastening down each point, and soaking for some time in warm, soapy water. Squeeze out and put into fresh soapy water, repeating the process until the lace is perfectly clean, then rinse in clear boras water--four teaspoonfuls to one pint. Place the cheesecloth, lace down, on a flannel or other soft pad, and iron until dry. HOW TO WASH SILK Put white and light-colored silks and pongees through strong, tepid white soapsuds, then through a second weaker suds, rinse, press out the water with the hands, shake out all wrinkles, spread on a clean sheet, and roll tight. Cover with a cheesecloth and iron while still damp with a not too hot iron. No portion of silk should be allowed to dry before ironing. If this occurs do not sprinkle, but dampen by rolling in a wet cloth. In laundering pure white silk, slightly blue the rinsing water. A slight firmness can be imparted to any silk by the addition of one teaspoon of gum arabic to each pint of the rinsing water. Silk hose are laundered just as other silk, except that instead of being rolled they must be dried as quickly as possible and ironed under a damp cloth. WASHING BLANKETS Do not allow blankets to become very much soiled before laundering, When this becomes necessary, put to soak for fifteen minutes in plain warm water--soft, if possible. Then prepare a jelly with one pound of soap to each blanket, and boiling water, pour into a tub of warm water and lather well, wring the blankets from the soaking water into this and let soak for ten minutes, then rub between the hands, bit by bit, until as clean as possible, wring into the first rinsing water, which should be just warm, then rinse a second time in tepid water, and dry well without exposing to great heat. Instead of being hung, blankets can be dried on curtain stretchers. When dry rub with a piece of rough flannel; this makes them fluffy and soft. WASHING CURTAINS Curtains and draperies should be shaken and brushed free from all the dust possible, before washing. Lace curtains, and especially those which are very fine or much worn, need dainty and careful handling. Soak for an hour or two in warm water containing a little borax, then squeeze out the water and drop into a boiler half filled with cold water to which have been added one half bar of soap, shaved thin, two tablespoonfuls of ammonia, and one of turpentine. Bring to a boil and let stand at the boiling point, without boiling, for half an hour, stirring occasionally with the clothes stick, rinse thoroughly, starch well with thick boiled starch, and stretch on frames to dry. If frames are not available, pin to a carpet which has been smoothly spread with a clean sheet. When a pure white is desired, add a little bluing to the starch water. Water tinted with coffee will produce an écru effect, while tea will give a more decided hue. Muslin curtains are laundered like any other fine white goods. TIDYING UP AND SPRINKLING The last article being hung on the line, each implement used in the process of washing must be cleaned, dried, and put in its place, the laundry floor scrubbed, and everything made spick and span; then comes the sprinkling and rolling of the piles of snowy, sweet-smelling linen, all full of fresh air and sunshine, to make a little rest time after the vigorous exercise which precedes it. It must be done with care as much depends upon it. Table linen, unless taken from the line while still moist, should be sprinkled very damp, folded evenly, rolled and wrapped in a white cloth, and placed in the clothes basket, which has been previously lined with an old sheet. Bed linen and towels require very little dampening; they, too, to be rolled and placed with the table linen. Sprinkle body linen well, particularly the lace and embroidery trimmings, roll tight, wrap, and add to the growing pile in the basket. The kitchen towels which have just come from the line may be utilized for wrapping purposes. Handkerchiefs receive the same treatment as napkins in sprinkling, folding, and ironing. Although everything irons more easily after being rolled for some time, thus evenly distributing the dampness, an exception must be made of colored clothing, which must not be sprinkled more than half an hour before it is ironed. When the sprinkling is all done, cover the basket with a damp cloth, then with a dry one, and leave till ironing time. If a coal range is in use, see that the fire is burning steadily, replenishing from time to time, first on one side, then on the other, brush off the top of the stove, wipe the irons, and put on to heat. If they heat slowly, invert a large dish pan over them. CARE OF IRONS When not in use, irons can be protected from dampness and resulting rust by covering with mutton fat or paraffine, rubbed on while slightly warm. It is easily removed when the irons are wanted for use. Rust spots can be removed by applying olive oil, leaving for a few days, and then rubbing over with unslaked lime. Scrub with soap and water, rinse, dry, rub with beeswax, and wipe off with a clean cloth. The soap and water treatment, followed by a vigorous rubbing on brick-dust, should be given frequently, irrespective of rust. Irons must neither be allowed to become red-hot nor to stand on the range between usings, or roughness will result. When not in use, stand on end on a shelf. Rubbing first with beeswax and then with a clean cloth will prevent the irons from sticking to the starched things. HOW TO IRON Before beginning to iron have everything in readiness--beeswax, a heavy paper on which to test the iron, a dish of water, and a soft cloth or a small sponge for dampening surfaces which have become too dry to iron well, or which have been poorly ironed and need doing over. Stand the ironing table in the best light which can be found, with the ironing stand at the right and the clothes at the left, and work as rapidly as consistent with good results. There is no royal road to ironing, but with perseverance and care the home laundress can become quite expert, even though she cannot hope to compete with the work turned out by those who do nothing but iron six days in the week. Give the iron a good, steady pressure, lifting from the board as little as possible, and then--iron! Take the bed linen first, giving a little extra press to the hems of the sheets. Many housewives have a theory that unironed sheets are the more hygienic; that ironing destroys the life and freshness imparted by the sun and air. Such being the case, the sheets can be evenly and carefully folded and put through the wringer, which will give them a certain smoothness. Towels may be treated in the same way, while flannels, knit wear, and stockings may, if one chooses, be folded and put away unironed. Table linen must be smoothed over on the wrong side till partially dry, and then ironed rapidly, with good hot irons and strong pressure on the right side, lengthwise and parallel with the selvage, until dry. This brings out the pattern and imparts a satiny gloss to the fabric, leaving it dainty, soft, and immaculate. Iron all embroideries on the wrong side. Trimmings and ruffles must be ironed before doing the body of the garment, going well up into the gathers with a light, pointed iron, carefully avoiding pressing in wrinkles or unexpected pleats. Iron frills, either plain or with a narrow edge, on the right side to give the necessary gloss. Bands, hems, and all double parts must be ironed on both sides. Iron colored clothes--lawns, dimities, percales, chambrays, etc.--on the wrong side, with an iron not too hot, otherwise the color is apt to be injured. The home laundress is usually not quite equal to the task of ironing shirts, which would far better go to the laundry; but when done at home from choice or necessity, plenty of patience and muscle must be applied. Iron the body of the shirt first, then draw the bosom tightly over a board and attack it with the regular irons, wipe over quickly with a damp cloth and press hard with the polishing iron. The ironing of very stiffly starched articles may be facilitated by covering with cheesecloth and pressing until partially dry; then remove the cloth and iron dry. As each piece is ironed, hang on bars or line until thoroughly dried and aired. A certain amount of moisture remains; even after the ironing, and must be entirely removed before the final sorting and folding and putting away. And so the wash-day drama comes to an end. We survey with pride and complaisance the piles of clean linen, shining with spotless elegance, and as we read therein a whole sermon on the "Gospel of Cleanliness," we conclude that it is decidedly worth while, and rejoice that fifty-two times a year this is a "washing-day world." CHAPTER VIII TABLE FURNISHINGS The mistress no doubt has a housewifely taste for receipts, and may, perhaps, find the following formula of service to her in her home-making: DINING-ROOM CHEER One set of fine, spotless table linen sprinkled--not too thickly--with pretty glass, china, and silver, and well lightened with brightness tempered to the right consistency not to dazzle. To this add a few sunny faces, some good conversation spiced with gayety--the unpalatable, distasteful portions having been previously eliminated. Then quietly and by degrees add food which has been carefully and daintily prepared and arranged. Over all scatter little flecks of kindliness and courtesy till an inward glow is produced, and keep at this point from half an hour to an hour, or longer. This receipt may be depended upon to give satisfaction under any and all conditions, and is compounded of ingredients which exemplary home makers have always at hand. If conscientiously followed failure is impossible. "Its use is a good habit." STOCKING THE CHINA CUPBOARD Of its component parts the more substantial ones are perhaps the most easily acquired; not in hit-or-miss, anything-to-get-it-done fashion, but with a view to carrying out some definite idea of table adornment, which is quite the most charming part of the home building. Dishes are more or less mixed up with poesy, which is full of "flowing bowls," "enchanted cups," "dishes for the gods," "flagons of ale," and other appetizing suggestions; and it would be rather a good thing to keep the poetry in mind during the fitting out, that there may be nothing aggressively cheap nor loudly assertive, but each piece harmoniously congenial to its fellows. There need be no hurry--that is one of the delights o' it--and the shopping may mean only "looking," for the good buyer believes that many dishes are to be examined but few chosen--a meat set here, a salad set there, a piece of cut glass somewhere else--here a little and there a little, with time to get acquainted with and enjoy each added treasure as it comes. It is a rare experience, this stocking the china cupboard; one likely to be prolonged through one's entire housekeeping experience, thanks be! THE GROUNDWORK There is so much exquisitely patterned and inexpensive china, glass, and porcelain turned out these days that one cannot wander very far afield in buying unless she gets lost among the intricacies of castors--pickle and otherwise--ironstone china, colored and imitation cut glass, and butter dishes with domelike covers. Probably the persons who invented these have gone to join hands with the perpetrator of the red tablecloth. May their works soon follow them! Complete sets of dishes are giving way to the character and diversity imparted to the table by odd pieces and sets for different courses. However, a pretty, inexpensive set of porcelain or china--something which will bear acquaintance, and of some easily replaced standard pattern--is a good beginning, for one rarely starts out with a full equipment of fine china, and even so, there should be something stronger to bear the heaviest brunt of wear. All complete sets contain one hundred and seven pieces, and include one dozen each of dinner, breakfast, tea, soup, and butter plates, and cups and saucers of medium size, three platters of various sizes, vegetable dishes, covered and coverless, and a gravy boat. Tureen, sugar bowl, and cream pitcher, and after-dinner coffees are not included, but may be ordered extra. The choice in everyday sets lies between plain white--preferably the French china, known as Haviland, which can be bought for $35--and the blue-and-white English porcelain of different makes--Copeland, Trenton, etc., a desirable set of which costs $15 and higher. All-white is entirely blameless from the standpoint of good taste, and has a dainty fineness in the Haviland of which one rarely tires, while it never clashes with anything else on the table. It is so infinitely preferable to cheap, gaudy decorations, so sincerely and honestly what it seems to be, that it has a certain self-respecting quality which one cannot help but admire. Blue-and-white has an attraction which has never died since it had its birth in the original Delft, which is copied so extensively now in Japan and China. And though the porcelain is but an imitation, it is a clever one, and one which leaves little to be desired in decorative value and general effect. The design may strike one at first as being a little heavy, but it improves on acquaintance, and it has been very aptly said that the fact of its having survived enthusiasm should vouch for its worth. Porcelain has a good glaze which does not readily crack or break. Advancing in the scale of cost and fineness, we come to that most beautiful of all chinas--the gold-and-white--which can be had at from $50 a set up to as high as $1,500. The gilding is in coin gold, the effect of richness tempered with chastity being carried through all grades in varying intensity. It "expresses itself beyond expression," and is an honor to any table. COURSE SETS When it comes to the purchase of course sets, different tastes can find instant gratification in numberless colorings and designs. Overdecoration and large floral devices must be avoided, but any delicately expressed pattern is good, and here again the gold-and-white seems to fulfill all demands. Soup, salad, tea, butter, and other plates can be had in china from 30 cents apiece up. Articles of this kind, in a standard pattern, may be bought one or two at a time, and added to as ability permits until the set is completed. Any unusual design runs through two years, after which it can be obtained only from the factory. A dozen of each is a good number to aim at, for there will be many occasions which will call out one's whole dish brigade and keep it actively engaged. The old joke about having to wash dishes between courses, and sending the ice cream afloat on a warm plate, really loses its amusing aspect when it becomes an actual experience. Unless the mistress prefers to serve her soup at the table, a tureen is not a necessity, but if used, it must match the soup plates. It is a somewhat fluctuating fashion, out at present. Soup plates are not the great flaring affairs of yore. They either follow the old shape, much reduced, or are in the nature of a large sauce dish. The meat set of platters, plates, and vegetable dishes comes into play at all meals, tea plates can be put to a variety of uses--in fact, many dishes supplement one another at a saving of expense and numbers. If one has a handsome glass bowl sufficiently large, a special salad bowl is not an essential, but a china bowl demands plates to match. Hand-painted china, in sets or odd pieces, is pretty--sometimes--if artistically designed and perfectly executed, but a little goes a long way. Don't be the innocent victim of some well-meaning relative with the china-painting bee. Gently but firmly refuse to sacrifice the beauty of your table to family ties; they ought to be able to stand the strain, but your table cannot. ODD PIECES Japanese and Chinese ware is steadily gaining in favor--another instance in which imitation is permissible, for the "real thing" is undoubtedly costly. The quaint conceits in creams and sugars, chocolate pots, bonbon dishes, and plates, with their storks and chrysanthemums, their almond-eyed damsels and mandarins, are always interesting. The fad of odd cups and saucers is fast developing into a fixed fashion, and a good one, which is a particular boon to the giver of gifts on Christmas and other anniversaries when "presents endear absents." Pretty styles in all sizes of different French, German, and English makes can be found at 50 cents and up, with special reductions at sale times. Larger plates, to accommodate both the slice of bread and the butter ball, have taken the place of the tiny butter plate, and should properly match the meat set. A touch of gold with any china decoration gives it a certain character and richness. The chop platter--among the nice-to-haves and bought as an odd piece--belongs in the lightning change category, for it may serve us our chops and peas during the first course, our molded jelly salad during the second, and our brick of ice cream or other dessert during the third. The range in price is from $1 up to $5 and $6 for the choicest designs. Then there are berry sets of a bowl and six saucers, both being turned to account for different uses, and costing in Haviland as low as $1.75. And there must be some small bowls or large sauce dishes for breakfast use, if our housewife is cereally inclined, and a china tile or two on little legs to go under the coffee and tea pots. The china pudding dish, with its tray and its heat-proof baking pan, is a pretty and convenient accessory, saving the bother of veiling the crackled complexion of the ordinary baking dish with a napkin, These cannot be had for less than $3.50 and are made in silver also, minus the tray and plus a cover. The teapot, true symbol of hospitality, has come down from the high estate to which it was formerly created, and is a fat, squatty affair now. Dainty sets of teapot, cream, and sugar matching--a nobby little outfit--are to be had for $2, in gold-and-white, $3, etc. There are after-dinner coffee sets, too. Needless to say there must not be even the slightest acquaintance between fine china or porcelain and the hot oven if you value their glaze. [Illustration: Wedgwood pottery, and silver of antique design.] SILVER AND PLATE Of the purchase of silver there is little to say. Unless her friends have been very generous in their gifts of solid ware, the mistress usually acquires it a little at a time, contenting herself with the plated for general use. Here the souvenir fork or spoon frequently steps into the breach, but in default of any other, good shining plated ware presents just as good an appearance as the solid and serves every purpose until the plate begins to show wear, when it should be renewed without delay. The plainer the pattern the better. Medium-sized knives and forks of the best Rogers triple plate sell for $7 a dozen, teas for 10 cents less, fruit knives for $3. Teaspoons in the dainty Seville pattern, with only a beaded trimming around the handle, are $4 a dozen, dessert spoons $3.25 a half dozen, and tablespoons $3.75. A gravy ladle costs $1.25. The infinite variety of odd forks and spoons for various uses is best acquired with the other solid silver. Plated ware ought never to serve acids nor top salt shakers, since both acid, and salt when damp, corrode the plating. Solid salt and pepper shakers can be had as low as $1 a pair, cut glass with solid tops for $1 and $1.50. If individual salt dishes are used, they must be accompanied by tiny solid salt spoons at 35 cents apiece and up. Very nice though not altogether necessary accompaniments of the bread-and-butter plates are the individual butter knives at $10 a dozen. If steel-bladed knives are preferred to silver, the medium size, with composition handles of celluloid and rubber, are $4.50 a dozen, with accompanying forks with silver-plated tines at $7.50. The carving knife, broad, long, and strong, with its fork, good steel both, can be had for $2.75, with a game knife, its blade short and pointed and its handle long, with its fork, $2.50. GLASS Cut glass is another of the can-do-withouts, except, perhaps, the carafe, now used instead of the old-fashioned water pitcher, at $3, $3.50, etc.; cruets for vinegar and oil, simply cut and in good style, for as low as $1.50 each; and the finger bowls, one for each person. The last, of thin crystal and perfectly plain save for a sunburst of cutting underneath, are $3 a dozen, with others more elaborate, and costly in proportion. Tumblers, thin, dainty, and delightful, cut a little at the bottom, are $1.50 a dozen, and far pleasanter to drink from than their elaborately cut and artistic brethren. Occasionally a pretty little olive dish can be picked up for as low as $1.50 or $2, but rather perfect and inoffensive plainness than imitation cut, cheap, crude, and clumsy. The American cut glass is considered the choicest. Side by side with it, and preferred by many as being less ostentatious, is the beautiful Bohemian glass, with its exquisite traceries in gold and delicate colors. Only in this glass is color permissible, and then principally in receptacles for flowers. There is reason to believe that it was from a Bohemian glass plate the King of Hearts stole the tarts on a certain memorable occasion, and if so, one can readily understand why the temptation was so irresistible to him. [Illustration: A collection of eighteenth-century cut glass.] ARRANGEMENT To put all our pretty things on the table in such a way that the result shall be a picture of daintiness, grace, and symmetry is seemingly a simple matter, but the trick of good taste and a mathematical eye are both involved in it. The manner of setting and serving the table varies somewhat with each meal, but a few suggestions apply to all alike. The center of the table must be exactly under the chandelier, and covered with the pretty centerpiece with its dish of ferns, a vase of posies, or a potted plant in a white crinkled tissue-paper pinafore. Nothing else has the decorative value of the table posy, however simple, which seems to breathe out some of its outdoor life and freshness, and should never be omitted. Twenty inches must be allowed for each cover, or place, to give elbow room, and all that belongs to it should be accurately and evenly placed. At the right go the knives--sharp edges in--and spoons, with open bowls up, in the order in which they are to be used, beginning at the right. At the points of the knives stands the water glass. At the left are arranged the forks, tines up, also in the order of use, beginning at the left, with the butter plate, on which rests the butter knife, a little above the forks. The napkin--which should be folded four times in ironing and never tortured into fantastic shapes, restaurant fashion--lies either at the left of the forks or on the plate at the center of the cover. If many spoons are to be used, the soup spoon alone rests beside the knife, with the others above the plate. Individual salt cellars go above the plates, shakers at the sides or corners of the table, within easy reach, and one carafe is usually allowed for every three or four people. Carving cloths are laid before the plates are put on, with the carving knife at the right, the fork at the left. Water is poured, butter passed, and bread arranged on the table just before the meal is served. Extra dishes and the plates for use during the different courses stand in readiness on a little side table, silver and glass alone being appropriate to the sideboard. DUTIES OF THE WAITRESS The maid stands behind the master or mistress to serve the plate of meat, the bowl of soup, and so on, taking it on her tray and placing it with her right hand from the right of the person served. All plates are placed by the waitress, while she serves all vegetables, sauces, etc., from the left, holding the dish on her tray or, if it be a heavy one, in her hand, within easy reach. Soiled dishes she removes from the right with her right hand, placing them on her tray one at a time, platter and serving dishes first, then individual dishes and silver until everything belonging to the course has been removed. Crumbs are taken up from the left with a crumb knife or napkin, never with a brush. Many housekeepers prefer to dismiss the maid after the main part of the meal is served, ringing for her when her services are necessary, thus insuring a greater privacy during the charmed hour, and affording an opportunity for those little thoughtful attentions when each serves his neighbor as himself. THE BREAKFAST TABLE The breakfast table is usually laid with centerpiece and plate doilies these days, and it may not be ill-timed to suggest that every effort be made to have this meal cheery and attractive, for it is, alas, too often suggestive of funeral baked meats and left-over megrims from the night before. If fruit is to be served, followed by a cereal and a meat or other heavier course, each place is provided with a fruit plate with its doily and knife, a breakfast knife and fork, a dessert spoon, two teaspoons, and a finger bowl. The fruit should be on the table when the family assemble, with the cups and saucers and other accompaniments of the coffee service arranged before the mistress's place. Warm sauce dishes for the cereal and warm plates for the course which follows it must be in readiness. LUNCHEON Luncheon is the simplest, daintiest, most informal meal of the day--just a little halting place between breakfast and dinner, where one's pretty china comes out strongly. The setting of the doily-spread table follows the usual arrangement. Everything necessary for serving tea is placed at the head of the table, with the meat or other substantial dish at the opposite end. Most of the food is placed on the table before the meal is announced, and as there are usually but two courses the plates are changed only once. The only difference between luncheon and tea being the hour of serving, the same rules govern both. The lunch cloth or the hemstitched linen strips may be used instead of the place doilies. DINNER Dinner is a more solemn matter. On goes our immaculate tablecloth now, over a thick pad, its one crease exactly in the middle of the table, and all wrinkles and unevennesses made smooth and straight. Centerpiece and posy go squarely--or roundly--in the center, with silver, salts, and carving set arranged as usual. The butter plate is frequently omitted from this meal, an oblong slice of bread, a dinner roll, or a bread stick being placed between the folds of each napkin, or on the butter plate, if used, with the butter ball and knife. If soup is to be served, the spoon is placed at the right of the knives. There is a preference for the use of a "service plate" at this meal--the plate which is at each place when dinner is announced, and is not removed until the first hot course after the soup--but this is usually dispensed with when there is but one servant. Proper cutlery for carving has its place before the carver, the carving cloth being removed before dessert. If black coffee is served as the last course, the after-dinner coffee spoons are placed in the saucers before serving. Finger bowls appear the last thing. THE FORMAL DINNER The formal dinner follows the general idea and arrangement of the family dinner, with considerable elaboration. Out come our dress-up table linen, china, glass, and silver, and we add certain festive touches in the way of vines and cut flowers loosely and gracefully disposed in glass or silver bowls and vases. At the four sides of the centerpiece go the dainty glass candlesticks, which cost 35 cents apiece, coming up to 91 cents with the candle lamp, candle, mica chimney, and shade complete, the shade matching the flowers in color. The lesser light which thus rules the night casts a witching glamour over the table, shadowing imperfections, softening features, warming heart cockles, and loosening tongues. Yellow is always good, green cool in summer, red heavy, and pink of the right shades genial. Lace and ribbon have been banished from the table as being inconsistent with simplicity, but a small bunch of flowers or a single flower at each place gives a pretty touch. The water glass is moved over to the top of the plate now, to make room for the wine glasses which are grouped above the knives. The oyster fork is placed at the right of the soup spoon, the fish fork at the left of the other forks. Overmuch silver savors of ostentation; therefore, if many courses are to be served, the sherbet spoon may go above the plate, the other extra silver to be supplied from the side table when needed. Fancy dishes containing olives, salted nuts, and confections are arranged on the table, all other dishes being served from the kitchen or side table. It being taken for granted that the food is properly seasoned, no condiments are on the table. Place cards rest on the napkins. THE FORMAL LUNCHEON The formal luncheon table closely follows the formal dinner table, except that place doilies are used instead of the tablecloth. The bouillon spoon replaces the soup spoon, and other changes in the silver may be necessitated by the lighter character of the food served. The room may be darkened and candles used if the hostess so elect. If additional light is required at either dinner or luncheon, it should come through shades harmonizing with the candle shades, and hung not higher than the heads of the guests. WASHING GLASS And after this, the deluge--of dishwashing! The cleansing of the glass opens the session. If much fine or heavily cut glass is to be washed, cover the draining board and the bottom of the pan with a soft, folded cloth. Wash one piece at a time in water not too hot--about three quarts of cold water to one of boiling, to which a _very_ little white soap, with a tablespoon of ammonia, has been added--going well into the cuttings with a brush; then rinse in water a little hotter than the first, leave for a moment, and turn upside down on the board to drain until the next piece is ready. Then dry with a soft towel, or plunge into a box of nonresinous sawdust, better warm, which absorbs moisture not reached by the cloth. Remove from the sawdust, brush carefully, and polish with a soft cloth. If kept free from dust, sawdust can be dried and used indefinitely. Care must be taken that there is no sand in dishpan or cloth to give the glass a scratch which may end in a crack or break. Put a spoonful of finely chopped raw potatoes, or crushed eggshells, or half a dozen buckshot into decanters, carafes, jugs, and narrow-mouthed pitchers, with a little warm soda or ammonia water, and shake vigorously till all stain is removed, rinse and dry. The water in which glass is washed must be kept absolutely free from greasy substances. If milk, ice cream, or custard has been used, rinse off with cold, then blood-warm water before washing. Cut glass must never be subjected to marked differences in temperature, and for this reason should not be held under the faucets, as the heat cannot be regulated. Glass with gilt decoration must be washed quickly and carefully with water free from either soda or ammonia, which attack the gilt, and dried gently. WASHING AND CLEANING SILVER The silver comes next, careful washing obviating the necessity for cleaning oftener than once a month. Knives, forks, and spoons, which were separated into piles when taken from the table, are washed first, then the other pieces in use, in hot white soapsuds with a little ammonia, rinsed with clear scalding water, dried with a soft towel, one at a time, and rubbed vigorously, when all are done, with chamois or Canton flannel. Egg or vegetable stains can be removed with wet salt, black marks with ammonia and whiting. Only enough silver to supply the family use is kept out; the handsome jelly bowls, cream jugs, etc., are wrapped in white tissue paper, placed with a small piece of gum camphor in labeled Canton flannel bags, closing with double draw strings, and are then locked away in a trunk or a flannel-lined box with a close-fitting lid. If put away clean and bright, as they should be, they retain their luster and only need polishing once a year. When the regular silver-cleaning day comes around, wash and dry the silver in the prescribed way, and rub with sifted whiting wet with alcohol, leaving no part untouched, and allow to dry on. When all the pieces have been treated thus, rub with a flannel cloth and polish with a silver brush. Regular brushes are made for this purpose and are invaluable in getting into the ornamental work. Never make the mistake of applying a tooth or nail brush, which will surely scratch and mar the fine surface. Most silver polishes are made of chalk prepared in different ways, but beware of the one which cleans too quickly: it is liable to remove the silver with the tarnish. Silver must not be allowed to become badly stained, thus necessitating hard rubbing and additional wear and tear. HOW TO WASH CHINA China washing requires a pan nearly full of water of a temperature not uncomfortable to the hand, beaten into a good suds with a soap shaker. Very hot water, or a sudden change from cold to hot, is apt to crack the fine glaze. Use a dish mop for the cleanest dishes, and, beginning with the cups and saucers, and placing only a few in the pan at a time, wash quickly without allowing to soak, rinse in water a little hotter than the first, and wipe until perfectly dry and shiny. Pouring hot water over china and leaving it to drain itself dry may save time, but it will be at the expense of the polish. Spread the dishes out on the table to cool--piling them while hot injures the glaze--and put away the first washing before commencing on the heavy, greasy things. The washing water must be changed as soon as a greasy scum collects around the sides of the pan. CARE OF KNIVES Bone-, wood-, or pearl-handled knives should never go into the dishpan, but be stood, blade down, in a pitcher containing a little water and soda, the blades having first been wiped off with paper, and left till everything else is done. They are then washed singly with clean suds, special care being bestowed upon the juncture of the blade with the handle, rinsed, and dried immediately. If stained, rub with half of a potato or with a cork dipped in powdered pumice stone, wipe dry, wash, and polish with a little bath brick or sapolio. Clean carving knives and forks in the same way, going around the joinings with a rag-covered skewer. Spots can be removed from ivory handles with tripoli mixed with sweet oil; from mother-of-pearl with sifted whiting and alcohol, which is washed off and followed with a polishing with dry whiting and a flannel cloth. Cover rusted knife blades with sweet oil, rub in well, and leave for forty-eight hours, then rub with slaked lime. Britannia, pewter, and block tin in table use are polished the same as silver. CHAPTER IX THE BEDROOM The bedroom is very like an old familiar friend: it sees us as we really are, tempting us to throw off all veneer of pretense or worldliness and rest in just being ourselves--a rest so sweet and wholesome and good that we go from it recreated and strengthened. In the spirit of truest friendship it exacts nothing, but by its subtle, quiet sympathy charms away our restlessness and presents us anew to that person known as our better self. The friend of our choice is the one who wears well; who never intrudes, never wearies, never pains us; whose influence is one of rest, of restoration, of reinspiration--the embodiment of the true mission of the bedroom. It, like our friend, must be able to survive with honor the test of that familiarity which comes with intimacy--whether it shall breed contempt or content. And so as we plan it, let us endeavor to temper our likes and dislikes with judgment until we can be reasonably sure that it will be a room pleasant to live with, and companionable, which will not irritate our moods into becoming moodier, nor our weariness into becoming wearier. LIGHT AND AIR Of first importance, of course, are light and air; these we must have, and sun if possible. One good warm ray of sunshine is a more effective destroyer of disease and "dumps" than all the drugs on the market; while good ventilation is one of the most valuable as well as one of the cheapest and most ignored assets of the home, particularly of the bedroom, where our hereditary enemy, the microbe, loves especially to linger. Given air and light, we have the best possible start toward our rest room and upon its exposure and size depends largely what we shall add unto it in the way of furnishings and decorations. Dark walls and floors wrap one in gloom and have no place in any bedroom. A warm, sunny exposure invites the use of contrastingly cool light blues, grays, greens, and creams; while the glow of delicate pinks and yellows helps to make a sunshine in the shadows of a north light. East and west lights adapt themselves to the tasteful use of almost any color, saving and excepting red, which cannot be mentioned in the same breath with rest and has the red-rag-to-the-bull effect on nerves. If an overstrong affection for it demands its use, it must be indulged in sparingly and much scattered and tempered with white. Though a certain sympathetic warmth should be expressed in the bedroom coloring, we want rather to feel than to see it, and too much becomes a weariness. CARPETS VERSUS RUGS Beginning with the base, as becomes a good builder, and working upward, floor coverings which cover without covering, if one may indulge in an Irishism, are far preferable to those which extend from wall to wall. Carpets undoubtedly have their uses: they make over well into rugs, supply heat to the feet, particularly in summer, and to the disposition during the semiannual house cleaning. They also cover a multitude of moths. But they belong to the dark ages of unenlightened womanhood whose chief end was to keep house, and have been jostled into the background by bare floors or mattings, with rugs. Hardwood floors certainly are nice and seem to wear an air of conscious pride of birth, but their humbler self-made brethren of common pine, stained and varnished or oiled, answer the purpose fully as well. It really amounts to a case of rugs make the floor, for if they are pretty and conveniently disposed about it, the floor itself receives very little attention. Small rugs before bed, dresser, and chiffonier will suffice in a small room, and can be easily taken out and cleaned, but a more commodious room requires the dressed look imparted by the larger rug. Whatever its size, avoid large figures and strong colors, choosing rather a small, somewhat indistinct pattern woven in the deeper shades of the other decorations of the room, at the same time supplying a foundation which, without calling attention to itself, becomes a good support for the general decorative plan--a base strong but neither heavy nor striking. Since we were made to stand erect and look up, it is irritating to have one's eyes drawn downward by the unattractive attraction of an ugly rug. The colonial cotton rag rugs are quite the most desirable for bedroom use, from a sanitary as well as an artistic standpoint, and are woven to produce charming effects. The usual combination is two colors--white with blue, yellow, green, or pink, black with red, different shades of the same color, etc. Occasionally three colors are used, but more are apt to destroy the dainty simplicity which is the chief charm of rugs of this kind. They are woven like any other rag rug, and of any dimensions. MATTINGS Mattings, if preferred to the bare floor, come in a variety of patterns and colors and look neat and fresh, and cool in summer if used without rugs. They are a yard wide and range in price from 10 to 50 cents a yard for the Chinese, and from 20 to 60 cents for the Japanese. There is very little choice between the two, though the Chinese wears a little better, perhaps. Matting is easily broken and should not be used where the bed must be drawn away from the wall to be made, or heavy furniture moved about. WALL COVERING Passing from floor to walls, we reach that portion of the room which gives it its real atmosphere and supplies a background for all that it contains, of both "things and people." The bedroom seems to be preeminently a woman's room: here she reads and writes, rests and sews; it is her help in trouble, her refuge in times of storm. The intangible something which surrounds the eternal feminine clings about her room and tells a very truthful tale of the individuality of its occupant. Her favorite color peeps out from wall and drapery; her books, well-thumbed and hearing evidences of intimate association, lie cozily about, and her workbasket reveals the source of certain dainty covers and indescribable nothings which so materially refine the whole aspect of the room. Though she receives her formal calls in the drawing-room, it is in her bedroom that those confidential chats, so dear to the feminine heart, take place; therefore its background must be chosen with some idea of its becomingness, and the happy medium in color and tint selected, softening and becoming to all alike. As absence of manners is good manners, so absence of effect is, after all, the best effect. First and foremost, avoid the plague of white walls and ceilings, which cast a ghastly light over the whole room and make one fairly shiver with cold. The general plan is to shade the color up from floor to ceiling, and this is accomplished in so many differing and equally attractive ways that it is impossible to do more than offer suggestions which may be elaborated to suit individual tastes and conditions. Of course calcimine is the simplest and cheapest style of decoration, and recommends itself to the anti-germ disciple because it can be renewed annually at slight expense. The only difficulty lies in getting just the right tint, for decorators, though no doubt worthy of their hire, are not always capable of handling the artistic side of their business, and an uncongenial shade gets on the nerves after a while. The same thing holds true of painted walls and ceilings, though they too are hygienically good. When we come to papers, we are lost in a maze of stripes and garlands and nosegays, either alone or in combination. Prettiness is by no means synonymous with expense these days, when the general patterns and colors of costly papers are successfully reproduced in the cheaper grades. Tapestry papers are too heavy for bedrooms. Those figured with that mathematical precision which drives the beholder to counting and thence to incipient insanity, and others on which we fancy we can trace the features of our friends, are always distracting, especially during illness, when restfulness is so essential. The plain cartridge-papered wall with frieze and ceiling either flowered or of a light shade of the same or a contrasting color is never obtrusive and always in good taste. With a flowered wall a plain ceiling is a relief, and vice versa. Figures in both walls and ceiling are tiring, besides having none of the effect resulting from contrast. Walls in plain stripes need to be livened with a fancy ceiling, or ceiling and frieze, with their background always of the lightest tint in the side wall. One room of particular charm was all in yellow. The molding had been dropped three feet from the ceiling, giving the impression of a low ceiling and that snugness which goes with it, and up to it ran the satin-striped paper, while over frieze and ceiling ran a riot of yellow roses. And here was asserted the ingenuity of its occupant, who had cut out some of the roses and draped them at the corners and by door and window casings, where they seemed to cling after being spilled from the garden above. This same idea can be worked out with garlands or bunches of different flowers, bow knots, or other distinct designs. No large figures of any description should be introduced into a small room, and the whole effect of the decoration must be cheerful without being boisterous, gay, or striking. If the ceiling is low, the wall paper continues up to it without a frieze, the molding--which corresponds with the woodwork--being fastened where wall and ceiling join. Backgrounds of amber, cream, fawn, rose, blue, or pale green, with their designs in soft contrasting colors, are the strictly bedroom papers. BEDROOM WOODWORK The very prettiest bedroom woodwork is of white enamel, which has that light, airy look we so want to catch, and never quarrels with either furniture or decorations. But of woodwork painted in any color beware, take care! Finely finished hardwood has the honesty of true worth and needs no dressing up; but its poor relation, that hideous product of old-time dark stain and varnish is only a kill-beauty, and should be wiped out of existence with a dose of white paint. BEDROOM DRAPERIES In selecting bedroom draperies, two "don'ts" must be strictly observed: don't use flowered drapery with a flowered wall, and don't buy heavy, unwashable hangings of woolen, damask, satin, or brocade, which not only are out of harmony with the whole idea of bedroom simplicity, but shut out air and sunlight, make the room seem stuffy, and collect and hold dust and odors. The patterns of chintzes, cretonnes, and silkolenes are manufactured to follow closely the paper designs, and where flowered ceiling and frieze are used with a plain wall, the same color and design may be carried out in bed and window draperies, and in couch and chair coverings. With a flowered or much-figured wall snowy curtains of Swiss, muslin, or net, with ruffles of lace or of the same material, are prettier than anything else; and for that matter, they are appropriate with any style of decoration and can always be kept fresh and dainty. But elaborate lace curtains which have seen better days elsewhere are most emphatically _not_ for bedrooms, and should find another asylum. A pretty window drapery is the thin white curtain with a colored figured inner curtain. The use of figured draperies demands a good sense of proportion and of the eternal fitness of things, else it easily degenerates into abuse. [Illustration: The bedroom.] BEDROOM FURNISHING The bedroom furniture must be chosen rather with a view to fitness than to fashion. "Sets" are no more. How stereotyped and assertive they were, and undecorative! Bed, dresser, and washstand, forcibly recalling to one the big bear, middle-sized bear, and little bear of nursery lore, were clumsy and heavy and bad, even in hardwood; but when they were simply stained imitations of the real thing, and ornate with wooden knobs, machine carving, and ungraceful lines, they were truly unspeakable. The bed with its fat bolster, on top of which, like Ossa on Pelion piled, stood the pillows, perhaps covered with shams which bade one "Good night" and "Good morning" in red cotton embroidery--was especially hideous as contrasted with our present-day enameled or brass bed, and belongs to the dark ages of crocheted "tidies," plush-covered photograph albums, "whatnots," prickly, slippery haircloth furniture, and other household idols which bring thoughts that lie too deep for tears. Only two styles of sets find a welcome in the up-to-date home--the rich, dark, mellow mahogany, which is too costly for the average pocketbook, and the white enameled. Even so the component parts differ from those of a few years back; then the dresser was considered an absolute essential; now we frequently prefer the more graceful dressing table, with its small drawer or two for the unornamental toilet accessories, or the compromise between the two--the princess dresser--with the roomy chest of drawers or chiffonier. The all-white furniture gives the room an air of chaste purity and is no more expensive than a set in any other good wood, but must be well enameled or it will be impossible to keep it clean. CAREFUL SELECTION The trend of popular sentiment is toward the metal bed, with accompanying furniture in plain or bird's-eye maple, mahogany, dark oak, curly birch, or mahogany-birch. Dressers range in price from $9 to $50; princess dressers from $10.50 to $50; chiffoniers from $10 to $35; and dressing tables from $10 to $50. Furniture, like friends, cannot be acquired promiscuously without unpleasant consequences. There is no economy in buying cheap, veneered pieces which will be--or ought to be--always an eyesore. The truly thrifty homemaker will wait until she can afford to buy something genuinely good, and then buy it with the conviction that she is laying up treasures of future happiness and contentment. The "good" piece is exactly what it claims to be, without pretense or artificiality, of hardwood of course, of simple construction, and graceful, artistic lines, its few decorations carved, not glued on. TOILET AND DRESSING TABLES Simplicity must be the keynote of all bedroom furnishings. The middle course in price is the safe one to follow, leaning toward the greater rather than toward the lesser cost. If there is a bathroom conveniently near, it is better to dispense with a washstand; but if its use is imperative, make it as little obtrusive as possible. The home carpenter can easily fashion one from a plain pine table, hung with a valance to match the other draperies. If a marble-topped table is available, so much the better. Toilet sets can be purchased for $4 and up, and should be of simple design and decoration, plain white or gold-and-white being advisable for general use, as neither will clash with anything else in the room. A very satisfactory set in the gold-and-white is to be had for $8. A dainty dressing table follows the idea of a makeshift washstand. It should be made of a sizeable drygoods box, with shelves, and the top padded and covered to match the drapery. The mirror which hangs over it may be draped, or simply framed in white enamel, gold, or whatever blends with the room. Overdraping not only looks fussy, but means additional bother and care. The drapery is thrown over a frame fastened above the mirror. FURTHER COMFORTS In addition to what is considered the regulation bedroom furniture, there should be a small table at the head of the bed for the glass of water, the candle or night lamp, and books of devotion; a couch for the mistress's rest hours, and to save the immaculateness of the bed; a comfortable rocker, with a low sewing chair and one or two with straight backs; and, when two people occupy the room, a screen which insures some degree of privacy and affords a protection from draughts. If one is restricted in closet room, a box couch is a great convenience; if in sleeping room, an iron cot or a folding sanitary couch, which becomes a bed by night, is invaluable. A chintz, cretonne, or other washable cover, with plenty of pretty pillows to invite indolence, can be used on either, with an afghan or some other sort of pretty "throw." Though upholstered furniture is out of place here, chair cushions corresponding with wall paper or draperies give a touch of cozy comfort. One room with dove-gray walls dotted with white, and all other furniture of white enamel, had mahogany chairs of severe simplicity of design, with backs and seats covered with rose-strewn cretonne which extended in a box-plaited flounce to the floor. This was the only touch of color, save a water color or two, in a room overflowing with restfulness and that "charm which lulls to sleep." Willow chairs are pretty and appropriate, too. The screen, with its panels draped in harmony with other hangings, should match the furniture. The new willow screens are light, dainty, and easily moved. A table, footstool or two, and desk can be added if desired. A greater length of mirror than that afforded by the dresser glass can be secured by setting a full-length mirror into the panels of one of the doors--a fashion both pretty and convenient. Have a care that all mirrors are of plate glass, for the foreshortened, distorted image which looks back at one from an imperfect looking-glass has a depressing effect on one's vanity. THE BEDSTEAD And now to the _pièce de résistance_ of the room, the ". . . delicious bed! That heaven on earth to the weary head!" Furnished complete it represents a considerable sum, but here again it is well not to count the cost too closely, for the return in comfort and refreshment cannot be estimated in dollars and cents. The change from wooden to metal beds is desirable in every way. Besides being so much more hygienic, they seem to take up less room, and admit of a freer circulation of air; they can be painted over and freshened up when necessary, and look well with any furniture. The best patterns are formed by parallel bars and circles, those with simple lilies conveying the idea of solidity, and with the least ornamentation, being preferable always. The extension foot facilitates the arrangement of spread or valance, and if drapery is desired, beds with head posts fitted with canopy frames or "testers" are to be had. Brass beds are the most expensive of metal beds, costing from $22 to $55, or as much more as one cares to pay. They have to be handled with great care--or rather, not handled at all unless through the medium of a soft cloth. The _vernis Martin_ bed of gilded iron produces the same general effect, and is but little more costly than the enamel bed, but, after all, it is only another "imitation." Enameled beds can be had for from $2 all the way up to $31. It cannot, of a surety, be necessary to warn against those hideous embodiments of bad taste, colored beds, with their funereal blacks, lurid reds, and sickly blues, greens, and yellows. Enough said! And avoid too much brass trimming. The bed should stand on casters--wooden--and not too high. SPRING, MATTRESS, AND PILLOWS Those two friends to nightly comfort, a first-class spring and a hair mattress, are vastly important. If the still, small voice of economy whispers that other mattresses are "just as good," stifle it. The hair mattress is the only really sanitary one, since it can be washed and made over and plumped up times without number, and surely no other enjoys the distinction of descending from generation to generation, with the other family treasures. Hair mattresses cost from $10 up, according to the length of the hair, but a good one of full size cannot be had under $30. Felt mattresses, from $7.25 to $13.50, are next in desirability, the best of these, warranted not to cake, being preferable to the cheap hair mattress with short hair. Then come moss mattresses with cotton tops, $4.70 to $8; husk with cotton tops, $3.15 to $4; and excelsior, cotton-topped, $2 to $4. Mattresses in two unequal parts, the larger going at the head of the bed and the smaller at the foot, are more easily handled and turned than those in one piece. A slip of heavy white cotton cloth covering the mattress entire, is a great protection, and should be washed at stated intervals. Box springs are luxuriously comfortable, an average spring, felt-topped, costing $17--hair-topped, $18.50. Those topped with tow and moss are less expensive. There is only one objection to the box spring: when the bedbug once effects an entrance therein, the days of that spring are numbered, for there is no evicting him. Woven wire and coil springs run from $2.25 up, according to the number of coils, wires, and weight. Mattress and pillows are covered to match, these days, in all sorts of charming colors and designs, if one cares to add a little to the cost. Over the mattress goes a quilted cotton pad, interlined with one thickness of cotton batting. Pads can be made at home, or purchased for $1.25, $1.50, or $1.75, according to the size of the bed. The unbleached cost 25 cents less. Some housekeepers prefer a flannel pad as being more porous, and therefore more easily aired. Each bed should have its own pair of white woolen blankets, an average pair costing about $5, but a really "worth-while" one is scarcely obtainable under $12 or $15. A little cotton mixed with the wool is not objectionable, as it prevents so much of the shrinkage to which wool is liable. Heavy and uncomfortable "comforts," which supply in weight what they lack in warmth, are neither desirable nor healthful. Folded across the foot of the bed should lie the extra covering for cold nights, either an eiderdown or less costly quilt, daintily covered with cheesecloth, silkolene, etc. Two night pillows to a bed are the usual allowance. Good live-goose feather pillows sell for from $3 to $7, depending on the size, and should be provided with extra cotton slips, buttoning on, to protect the tick. The feather bolster has had its day. Its descendant, the bedroll of hair, paste-board, or _papier maché_, is for ornament only, and is used as a finish at the head of the bed with fancy draperies or coverings, which it matches. Shams, too, are going out, with other things which are not what they seem. The thought of untidiness always underlies their freshness, and so we prefer to put the night pillows in the closet during the day and let the bedroll or the day pillows take their place. If there is a shortage of pillows, the night cases can be exchanged for pretty ruffled ones of lawn, muslin, dimity, or linen. If one still clings to shams, corresponding sheet shams should also be used. BED DECORATION There remains yet to be found anything more airily, chastely dainty than the all-white bed with its plain or fringed Marseilles spread and its ruffled pillows. Though drapery has a picturesque effect, it interferes to a certain extent with the free circulation of air, and affords a lurking place for our insidious enemy--the microbe. If used at all, it should only be in a large, well-ventilated room, and sparingly, for a fussy, overloaded bed looks anything but restful. If considerable color has already been introduced into the room, the bed drapery, cover, and valance should be of some thin white washable material--dimity, Swiss, and the like. But with plain papers, flowered cretonne, chintz, etc., are appropriate. The canopy top is covered with the material, stretched smooth, and either plain or plaited, and the drapery gathered about the back, sides, and front of this, from which it hangs in soft folds to within two or three inches of the floor. It should be simply tied back. The canopy projects not more than half a yard beyond the head of the bed, and may be either oblong or semicircular. Very thin white material is used over a color. Whatever the material, it must, of course, be washable and kept immaculate. The newest bed, all enameled and with a bent bar of iron at head and foot, lends itself to a pretty style of drapery, which is simply a plain, fitted white slip-over case for head and foot, finished with a valance of the same depth as that of the counterpane, which leaves no metal visible anywhere about the bed. Pretty Marseilles spreads may be had for $3; cheaper ones in honeycomb follow the same designs. The white spread, with a colored thread introduced, may answer for the maid's room--never for the mistress's. SIMPLICITY When two persons occupy a room, twin beds furnished exactly alike are preferable to the double bed. An exclusively man's room demands somewhat different treatment, though the general principles of furnishing apply to all bedrooms. A man abhors drapery, and usually prefers an ascetic simplicity to what he is pleased to term "flub-dubs." His notions of art are liable to express themselves in pipes, steins, and other masculine bric-a-brac; but whatever his wills and wonts on the furnishing question, his room must show care and attention. The rule of elimination is a good one to follow in bedroom pictures; no "rogue's gallery" of photographs, no useless, meaningless, and trivial pictures, but just a madonna or two, perhaps a photographic copy of some old master, with a favorite illuminated quotation--something to help and quiet and inspire. Tables, dresser, and chiffonier should have each its spotless cover of hemstitched or scalloped linen, or ruffled lawn or Swiss--anything but towels. They will answer, of course, but we want a little more than just answering. CARE OF BEDROOM AND BED Much of the refinement of the bedroom depends upon its daily care. This begins with its airing the first thing in the morning. The bed is stripped of its coverings, which are spread over two chairs placed before the open window; the mattress is half turned over, and night clothes and pillows are placed near the window. The slops are then emptied, bowl and all toilet articles washed in hot water and dried, pitcher emptied and refilled with fresh water, and soiled towels replaced by clean ones. Soiled towels must never be used to clean the crockery. Cleaning cloths for bedroom use should be kept for that purpose alone. Once a week slop receptacles must be scalded with sal soda water and stood in the sun. After an hour the windows may be closed and the bed made. The first thing is to turn the mattress--end for end one day, side for side the next--and then comes the pad, and after it the sheets. The lower one is put on right side up, drawn tight, and tucked in smoothly all around; the upper should be wrong side up, drawn well up to the head, and tucked in at the bottom, and the blankets brought up to within half a yard of the head, with the open end at the top. When all is straight and even, the upper sheet is turned back smoothly over the blankets and both are tucked snugly in. The counterpane, which was folded and laid aside during the night, then goes on, and is brought down evenly over the foot and sides of the bed, the bedroll or day pillows are added, and the bed is itself again. On Saturday the bottom sheet is replaced by the top sheet, which, in turn, is replaced by a clean one, and the pillowcases are changed. The spread usually needs changing about once a month. The night pillows are now beaten and put away, and night clothes are hung in the closet. Other articles are put in their places, the dresser top is brushed off and its various contents properly arranged, litter is taken up with dustpan and brush, or carpet-sweeper, and the room is dusted. Opened windows at night are a foregone conclusion. VERMIN AND THEIR EXTERMINATION Though it seems indelicate to suggest the possibility of a bug in a well-kept, charming chamber, even the best housekeeping is not always proof against feeling "things at night." Metal beds are rather inhospitable to bugs, and if carefully examined, with the mattress, once a week, there is small danger of their getting a foothold. If traces are discovered, hunt out the bugs and exterminate them if possible, and sprinkle bed and mattress with a good, reliable insect powder; or spray with gasolene, or wood alcohol and corrosive sublimate, and keep the room shut up for a few hours. Baseboard and moldings should also be treated in this way. If, after repeating several times, this proves ineffectual, smoke out the room with sulphur, first removing all silver and brass articles and winding those which cannot be moved with cloth. Then proceed according to directions for fumigating the closet, using a pound of sulphur for a room of average size. If the room has become badly infested, it will be best to tear off the wall and ceiling paper, and fill all cracks and crevices with plaster of Paris. Such shreds of self-respect as these terrors by night may possess cannot long survive such treatment, and they will soon depart to that country from whose bourne no bug returns. CHAPTER X THE BATHROOM With the subject of the bathroom before us, it would seem to be in order to promulgate the only really true theory of bathing. But this is not a treatise upon hygiene, and the world already has been flooded with advice on this subject, ranging from the urgings of those amphibiously inclined folk who would each day run the whole gamut of splash, souse, and scrub, to the theories of the dauntless Chicago doctor who would put all humanity on a level by abolishing bathing altogether. So we shall merely discuss the means of making the bathroom attractive and serviceable, trusting to our individual good sense for its proper use. Everyone has heard of the good woman who was showing some friends about her new home. The bathtub was an object of special pride. "Why," she exclaimed, in a glow of enthusiasm, "it's so nice that we can scarcely wait till Saturday night." We may laugh at her naïveté, but there is a good deal more of the "waiting for Saturday night" proposition than is good for--some of our neighbors. And, on the other hand, there is more of the heroic sort of bathing by faithful devotees of cleanliness than is necessary. The persistent spirit will have his bath, if it has to be with bowl and sponge in a cold room. But while most persons are persistently cleanly, bathing in the interest of healthfulness should be regular, and it should be enjoyable, and it cannot be either unless the bathroom is properly equipped and is ready for service when wanted. Even at some extra cost, it should be made possible to secure hot water promptly, and without agitating the whole household, at any reasonable hour of any day of the week. No family that we ever knew went bankrupt on account of the cost of hot water for bathing, and if they did they would have a pretty valid excuse. PLUMBING The bathroom is the heart of the plumbing problem, and it is not necessary to declare that the plumbing is the most important feature of the house, so far as health is concerned. Did we examine an old house (one of even ten years ago) with a view to purchasing or renting, the condition of the plumbing would be a first consideration. If it were not safe and in good order, we should have to make it so, for of course no one who is mentally competent would take any chances on such a menace to the family welfare. And to repair antiquated plumbing is an ungrateful task, while to replace it entirely requires both courage and a willingness to let go of one's money in large wads. Now, we want to remember that we shall wish to have our plumbing satisfactory, not only when the house is new, but ten years later, when it is not new. To make sure of this, we need first of all to know something of modern methods and equipment. Then we should employ a capable plumber, though he may cost us more than the merely passable sort. Finally, we should supplement good workmanship with the best materials. It may be noted that after the supply houses have evolved the best materials, in the sense that the materials are convenient, good to look at, and perfectly sanitary, they add frills and decorations that bring up the cost to any amount we insist upon spending. But we can get what we really require without paying for the frills, if we exhibit tolerable ability in the selection of essentials. Open plumbing is, of course, the only sort that any self-respecting plumber of these days would consent to put in; if he hints at anything else, we may well be suspicious of him. Not only should the plumbing be where we can see and get at it, but sinks, lavatories, and tubs should have no inclosures that may retain filth or become water-soaked. Sewer gas is not the only evil to be guarded against, but it is the greatest. It is also the subtlest, for in some of its most deadly forms it is inodorous, and usually does its work before we become conscious of its existence. The poisonous gas is not necessarily generated in the sewer, but may be created anywhere in the pipes that obstructions or uneven surfaces permit filth to accumulate. If, however, the plumbing is modern and of substantial quality to begin with, has stood all the tests, and is accessible and fairly well understood by at least one member of the household, reasonable vigilance will obviate practically all worry about sewer gas. BATHROOM LOCATION AND FURNISHING Usually the bathroom is placed in a central location on the second floor, accessible, if possible, by both rear and front stairways. In a small house the upper floor is always advisable, as the bathroom should be well retired from the living quarters. Where the space can be spared, there should be a closet, however, on the main floor, or at least in the basement, where it will be readily accessible from the back part of the house. If the bathtub is popular with the household, it is in constant use, and for this reason the closet is in some cases cut off from it, and is reached by a separate door. [Illustration: The bathroom.] The principal thought being to eliminate anything which will retain water, tile or rubber flooring is preeminently best for the bathroom. If wood is substituted, it should be oak or maple, thoroughly oiled. Nothing should rest upon the floor to prevent any portion of the surface from being thoroughly cleaned. A tile wainscoting is almost indispensable. Paper will not stand steam and moisture, and calcimine is scarcely better. Canvas or burlap above a four- or five-foot wainscoting makes an attractive combination. All-white is not called for, but light tints of green, buff, or terra cotta will give a softening touch of color without destroying the general effect of immaculateness. Art glass in the window can scarcely fail to add to the attractiveness of the room. It may be had for from 75 cents to $3.50 per square foot. A rug is an essential, but it should be of a sort that will not readily absorb and retain water. Speaking of the window, it must be observed that outdoor ventilation, without disturbing privacy, should be made possible. Often a bathroom becomes quite suffocating, and with weakly persons the danger of being overcome in a locked room is not to be left out of consideration. THE TUB The tub may be of enameled iron or of porcelain. The former costs very much less and is almost as satisfactory as the latter, though in the cheaper sorts at least the enamel will eventually crack. Of course it can be reenameled, but in most things for the home there will be enough of repairing without counting too much upon the ease with which it may be done. That which will go longest without any repairs is usually best. Still, as between the two kinds of tubs, one can scarcely make a mistake either way, and the difference in price will govern the decision of most of us. To be consistent in our thought of keeping the floor clear, we should have a bathtub that rests upon legs. It should not, if avoidable, be placed under the window, and if it can be several inches from the wall, it is more easily cleaned on the outside, and the space next to the wall need not accumulate--or at least retain--soap, towels, and sponges that elude the grasp of the bather. Tubs come in lengths from four to six feet, and cost accordingly. The comfort of a six-foot bath to persons of any considerable elongation is always manifest, while a four-foot tub is merely better than a footbath. Where hot water is not on tap in unlimited quantities, five feet is a fair compromise. In porcelain enameled ware a tub of this size costs from $27 to $60, without fittings. The better-class goods, included in this range, are warranted not to crack or "craze." Porcelain prices are almost double those mentioned. If we want stripings or pretty flowers or highly ornamented legs for the tub, we will be permitted to pay for them, but they are scarcely requisites in the bathroom economy. Waste and overflow arrangements for the tub must be well looked after. When the master of the household is likely at any time to turn on the water for a dip and then become absorbed in studying the latest automobile catalogue, one feels safer to know that the superfluous water will find a ready outlet through the pipes, rather than the floors and halls. The same precautions are to be observed with the lavatory, where young America may choose to devote himself to original experiments in hydrostatics instead of performing the simple process of expeditiously removing the grime from his digits. THE LAVATORY Anything that is all of one piece is likely to prove more lasting than the other kinds, in the lavatory. There are various combinations, some of them including handsome marble tops, but basin and top should not be separate. If the wall is tile, the back that fits to it is not essential; but if the back is used, it should be of a piece with the slab, bowl, and apron, to avoid ugly cracks and breakage. The bracket form is usually regarded as most convenient, as legs are often in the way, unobtrusive looking as they may be. Another method of attachment is by a concealed wall hanger. The pedestal design is somewhat more artistic, but additionally expensive not only in the beginning, but afterward in the event of damage. Lavatories in enameled iron cost from $16 to $75, including fittings and pipes above floor. Some people like running water in their bedrooms, and a private lavatory is certain to be appreciated by visitors. Objection has been made that the introduction of plumbing into the bedroom affords a new source of sewer-gas poisoning, but with modern materials and workmanship this need not be feared. For the bedroom the supply man will recommend the pedestal arrangement, costing about $50; but less expensive forms might serve. Of course every additional outlet, such as this, increases the piping bill and outlay for labor. THE CLOSET So far as the health of the family is concerned, the most important feature of the bathroom is the closet. Here it would be simply folly for us to let any consideration of dollars prompt us to substitute an inferior or out-of-date apparatus for the safe kind. It would be better to sell the piano or even to steal the money from the baby's bank. The only safety against sewer gas in the closet is to prevent it (the gas) from entering the house, and to make sure that gas from the water pipes is given an adequate exit and compelled to make use of it. The old-style washout closet was a pretty good assurance that the one gas would get in and that the other could not get out. The siphon closet of recent manufacture seems to be a much more dependable sort of contraption, though we need not accept as gospel the makers' assertion that it is perfection. The most reliable way to shut out gas is with water. Even in the old closets it was supposed that the outlet pipe would be kept covered with water, but as one could not see where the water was or was not, the supposition wasn't always to be regarded as proper material for an affidavit. Many a person has moped around and growled at the weather or the cook or anything he could think of to blame, when it was the cheap old plumbing arrangement he hadn't thought of that was at the bottom of his misery. Sometimes, too, we think a little sewer gas is preferable to the plumber and his bill; but that is a very silly thought indeed. The siphon closet not only overflows, but it siphons, or draws out, the contents of the bowl. This is replaced with clear water, which completely shuts off the outlet pipe. Comparing the actions of the two systems, we readily see the better cleansing power of the double action, while the seal on the vent pipe is always evident. A good siphon closet costs from $30 to $50, and unless we find something still safer we would better choose it. The low tank is preferable in many ways to the sort that is attached to the wall near the ceiling. It is more compact, can be installed under windows or stairways, and looks better. Besides, it is not so noisy and operates with greater ease, with either chain or push button. The extra cost is slight. HOT WATER AND HOW TO GET IT We have named the essentials for use in a bathroom. But there are other features that add much to its convenience and attractiveness. Some of these need not be purchased at once; in fact, it is better here, as elsewhere in the house, to let many things wait upon a demonstration of their need. A bathroom without plenty of hot water accessible is not, as we have previously hinted, likely to become a popular resort. When the wash boiler and the tea kettle have to be heated on the range and brought up in a precarious progress that threatens a scalding for fingers, feet, and floors, to even hint the possibility of the entire household's insisting upon a daily hot bath suggests lunacy. But if the hot-water tank is dependent upon the furnace or other house-heating arrangement, summer is likely to find it out of commission, with the chief element of a good bath obtainable only with much ado. Then some special means of heating water is required. There are many devices, most of them using gas, and disposed to be cantankerous late at night when all but the would-be bather have retired. The gas heaters are placed either in connection with the water tank in kitchen or basement, or above the tub, the water running in coils over the heater. These arrangements are speedy and comparatively economical. They are slightly dangerous, however; not that they are likely to explode, but from the fact that the gas, particularly if of a poor quality--which is usually the case--rapidly vitiates the air of the room, and may cause fainting or even suffocation. If the apparatus is properly adjusted, and one makes sure of the ventilation, heating the water and admitting fresh air before entering the tub, no distress need be anticipated. There are also gasolene and kerosene heaters, and an electric coil placed in the water is the safest and cleanest but not the quickest or cheapest scheme of all. Its cost is from $5 to $20. None of these heating attachments is sure to prove fully satisfactory, but any one of them is likely to add a great deal to the serviceableness of the bathroom. To many wholesome people one ideal of living is to be able to take a dip whenever one wants it, not merely when one can get it. A seat of wood, in natural finish or white enamel, is a handy appurtenance to the tub. It will cost us 50 or 75 cents at a department store, or we can pay four or five times as much for a fancier quality at the supply house. BATHROOM FITTINGS Of soap holders there are innumerable designs: nickel plated or rubber. The latter will hardly be chosen. A sort that will come as near as any to permitting one to grasp the soap without sending it to the far corner of the room has a grooved bottom and is retailed for 45 cents. A sponge holder at the same price will keep that useful article within reach, and for the towels there are bars, rings, and projecting arms. Nickel-plated brass or glass bars are preferred, as the rings are elusive affairs for both hands and towels, while the projecting arms are usually unsubstantial, and if placed too high, constantly threaten to stimulate the artificial-eye market. The bars, if strongly attached to the wall, sometimes are a friend in need when one is getting in or out of the tub or regaining equilibrium after balancing on one foot. A mirror of good plate but simple design should be in the room, not necessarily over the lavatory, but better so. Nice ones may be had for $3 or more. There are tooth-brush and tumbler holders galore, and some one of these arrangements will be found useful. The kind that provides for a toothpowder box, and has numbered compartments for brushes, is best, though there is something to be said for the retention of such articles within the private domains of their individual owners. An attachment for toilet paper may be had for a quarter or for a dollar, and a workable one is worth while, as is a good quality of paper. A glass shelf, costing anywhere from $1.75 to $12, is almost a necessity, but there are better places than the bathroom for the medicine cabinet. A single-tube shower-bath attachment of the simplest sort is a lot better than none, and need not cost over 50 cents. The more adaptable kind, with two ends, will be found ticketed at about $2. Thence up to the elaborate fittings at $250 there are many variations. Sitz baths and footbaths are rather superfluous in the ordinary bathroom, but we can spend a hundred dollars for the one and half that for the other without being taken for plutocrats. A very fair bathroom, such as would please most of us, may be equipped on a scale about as follows: Bathtub............................... $36.00 Five feet long, three-inch roll rim, porcelain enameled, nickel-plated double bath cock, supply pipes, connected waste and overflow with cleanout. Lavatory............................... 30.00 Twenty by twenty-four inches, porcelain enameled, slab, bowl and apron on four sides in one piece, nickel-plated waste, low-pattern compression faucets with china indexes, supply pipes with compression stops, and vented traps. Closet................................. 35.00 Porcelain enameled, siphonic, oak saddle seat and cover, oak tank (low set) with marble top and push button, nickel-plated supply pipe with compression stop. Total for main essentials..............$101.00 Tub seat, natural oak................. $0.50 Soap holder........................... .90 Sponge holder......................... .95 Toothbrush and tumbler holder......... .75 Glass shelf........................... 1.75 Shower attachment..................... 2.00 Mirror................................ 3.00 Robe hooks............................ .75 Towel bars............................ 1.00 Toilet-paper holder................... .50 Towel basket.......................... 1.00 Grand total...........................$113.10 CHAPTER XI CELLAR, ATTIC, AND CLOSETS Modern city and town life, with butcher and grocer so conveniently near, has done away to some extent with the cellar of ye olden tyme--dubbed one of the aids to "successful diplomacy," the other being that very necessary adjunct, a good cook. Those were truly days of bounteous hospitality and plenty which filled the cellar with barrels of apples of every variety, bins of potatoes, bushels of turnips and onions, barrels of pork "put down," corned beef, kegs of cider turning to vinegar, crocks of pickles and preserves of all kinds, quarters of beef, pans of sausage, tubs of lard and butter, and--oh, fruits and good things of the earth which we now know only as "a tale that is told." But the cellar of to-day accommodates itself to to-day's needs, for though we may still lay in some commodities in quantity, we know the things of to-morrow can be had from the market on comparatively short notice. Nevertheless, the things of to-day--and some other things--must be carefully stowed away, and the deeps of the house made hygienic, for as the cellar, so will the house be also, and to this might be added that as the floor, so will the cellar be also. THE CELLAR FLOOR In country places, where there is no sewage to contaminate the soil, a hard, well-beaten dirt floor is not particularly objectionable, except that it cannot well be cleaned. Boards raised from the ground by small blocks nailed to the under side, and leading to bins, cupboards, and furnace room, should be laid across it to prevent the tracking of dirt to the upper rooms, and these little walks must be swept and kept free from dirt and dust. If the cellar is floored with boards, the flooring should be raised sufficiently to allow free circulation of air beneath it; but the only strictly sanitary flooring is of concrete, six inches thick, covered from wall to wall with Portland or other good cement. Cellars, being below the street, and therefore receiving some of the surface drainage, are prone to dampness, and, are easily contaminated by leakage from drains and sewers, and other filth communicated to them through the soil. These conditions are largely counteracted by the concrete and cement flooring, which also bars the entrance of ants and other vermin. The communication of damp cellar air, polluted by noxious gases from sewers and decaying vegetable matter, to the upper parts of the house is responsible for many an otherwise unexplainable case of rheumatism, consumption, typhoid, and other diseases, and any outlay of time and money which can render the cellar wholesome and immune to ravages of agents external and beyond our control, must not be grudged. VENTILATION One who owns his home can adopt preventive measures, such as outside area ways or air spaces, impossible to the renter; but certain ounces of prevention are available to all. For instance: if drain pipes run through the cellar, have them examined often for leaks; if there is an open drain, wash it out frequently with copperas and water, and give it an occasional flushing with chloride of lime or lye in strong solution to destroy any possible odor arising from it; and see that the roof drains do not empty too near the house, thus dampening the cellar walls. Whitewash the walls semiannually, not only for sanitary reasons but to lighten the "darkness visible," and above all else--_have sufficient ventilation_! A perfect circulation of air is insured when there are opposite windows; but whatever their location, all windows should hang from the top on hinges, or be so put in that they can be easily removed from the inside; for open they must be, and that all the year round, except in the coldest winter weather, and even then they can be opened during the warmer hours of the middle of the day without danger of freezing the contents of the cellar. The cellar can be protected from invasion from without by galvanized iron netting, and wire screens will exclude the flies. Both screens must, however, be so adjusted that they will not interfere with the opening and closing of the windows. THE PARTITIONED CELLAR The cellar which is partitioned off into small rooms is more easily cared for and kept in order than that which consists of just the one large space. Rough pine-board partitions cost very little, and one to shut off the furnace (provided there be one) from the rest of the room is absolutely necessary, since the heat which it generates must not be allowed to spread and so spoil the cellar for cold-storage purposes, for warm, damp air hastens the degeneration of vegetables and meats. Unless some other provision is made in the cellar plan for the coal, a strong bin, with one section movable, should be built for it in the furnace room. To the posts of this bin hang the shovels--one large and one small--used in handling the coal. The premature burial of many a shovel might have been prevented had its owner only bethought him of those simple expedients, hammer and nails. A strip of leather nailed to another post supports ax or hatchet, while near by is the neat pile of kindling which its sharp edge has made--perhaps out of old and useless boxes and barrels. These must not be allowed to accumulate, but be chopped up at once. Logs and large sticks have each their own pile, while chips, sawdust, and shavings take up their abode in a large basket or box. The ashes from the furnace go into boxes and barrels outside of the house. ORDER IN THE CELLAR The cellar is primarily a storing place for food, and not an asylum for hopelessly maimed and decrepit furniture. If there is any which is mendable, mend and use it; if not, consign it to the kindling pile at once, there to round out its career of usefulness. Odds and ends of rubbish collect very quickly and make a cellar unsightly and difficult to keep in order. If necessary to keep certain boxes for future packing purposes, pile them neatly against the wall where they will be out of the way, or else send them up to the attic. When there are no rooms partitioned off for their accommodation provide bins, or their cheaper substitutes, barrels or boxes, for vegetables and fruits--boxes preferably, since they are more shallow and their contents can thus be spread out more. Vegetables and fruits should be looked over frequently, and anything showing signs of decay removed. Instead of placing boxes and barrels, vinegar kegs, firkins, stone jars, etc., directly on the floor, stand them on bricks, small stones, or pieces of board. When so placed, they are more easily handled and moved in cleaning, and the circulation of air beneath prevents dampness and consequent decay. SHELVES AND CLOSETS A swinging shelf--double or single--held by supports at the four corners, securely nailed to the joists of the floor above, is almost indispensable to the convenience of the cellar. It should be about three feet wide and from six to eight feet in length, and may be covered on three sides with galvanized wire fly netting, the fourth side to have double frame doors, also wire-covered, and swinging outward. Ordinary cotton netting can he used instead of the wire, and is of course cheaper, but must he renewed each year, while the wire will last indefinitely. And so we have evolved a cool, flyless place for our pans of milk, meats, cooked and uncooked, fresh vegetables, cakes, pastry, etc. If poultry or meat is to be hung here for a little while, wrap it in brown paper or unbleached muslin. Wash the shelves once a week with sal soda water and dry thoroughly. A windowless closet as far as possible from the furnace, and best built under some small extension, thus giving it three cool stone walls, is the place where preserves and jellies keep best. Label each jar and glass distinctly and arrange in rows on the shelves, taller ones behind, shorter in front. If there is no closet of this kind, a cupboard, standing firmly on the floor, can easily be built, for preserves must have darkness as well as coolness; otherwise they are apt to turn dark and to ferment. The shelves of the fruit closet must be examined frequently for traces of that stickiness which tells that some bottle of fruit is "working" and leaking. Pickles keep better in crocks on the cellar bottom. Laundry tubs and scrub pails are usually kept, bottom up, in the cellar. All articles stored there should be well wrapped in strong paper and securely tied, and it will be found a great convenience, especially at cleaning time, to hang many things from the ceiling beams. The cellar should be swept and put to rights every two weeks, cobwebs brushed down, and all corners well looked after. Here, as nowhere else, is the personal supervision of the housewife essential. THE ATTIC It is with a lump in our throats and an ache in our hearts that we turn our thoughts wistfully backward to that place of hallowed memories, which is itself becoming simply a memory--the attic! What happy hours we spent there, rummaging among its treasures, soothed by its twilight quiet, and a little awed by the ghosts of the past which seemed to hover about each old chest and horsehair trunk and gayly flowered carpet bag; each andiron and foot warmer and spinning wheel and warming pan! Roof and floor of wide, rough boards, stained by age and leaks; tiny, cobweb-curtained windows; everything dusty, dim, mysterious! Where is it now? Gone--pushed aside by the march of civilization; supplanted by the modern lathed and plastered attic, with its smoothly laid floor, which harbors neither mice nor memories. And though we sigh as we say so, the attic of to-day _is_ a better kept, more compact, more hygienic affair than its ancestor; for we have grown to realize that sentiment must sometimes be sacrificed to sense. Whatever comes we must have hygiene, even at the expense of the little spirit germ which seems sometimes to develop best in the "dim religious light." For we cannot forget Victor Hugo and Balzac and Tom Moore in their attics. ORDER AND CARE OF ATTIC Frequently so much of the attic space is finished off for bed and other rooms that what remains is somewhat limited, and cannot be turned into a catch-all for the may-be-usefuls. Indeed, only such things as have true worth should go into it, whatever its size, these to be carefully stowed away, like things together--boxes, furniture, winter stovepipes with their elbows, piles of magazines systematically tied together by years, trunks, etc. In each trunk place its own special key and strap, and when garments or other articles are packed therein, fasten to the lid a complete list of its contents. Upholstered furniture must be closely covered with old muslin or ticking. The family tool chest seems to fit into the attic, as well as the small boxes of nails, rolls of wire, screws, bolts, and the hundred odds and ends of hardware which the lord of the house must be able to lay his hand on when he wants to do any tinkering about the place. A semiannual sweeping, mopping, and dusting will keep the attic in good condition if thoroughly done, with the help of the "place for everything, and everything in its place," a precept as well as an example which has entered prominently into the upbringing of most of us. Here is another spot where corners and cobwebs like to hobnob, and such intimacy must be sternly discouraged. If old garments are kept in the attic, they should be either packed away in labeled boxes or trunks, or hung on a line stretched across the room and carefully covered with an old sheet. This line is also serviceable when rainy days and lack of other room make it necessary, to dry the washing here. The modern attic is for utility only, and so its story is soon told. CLOSETS If woman's rights would only usurp one more of what have hitherto been almost exclusively man's rights--the profession of architecture--she would in truth become the architect, not only of her own fortune, but of the fortunes of a suffering sisterhood, whose great plaint is, "So many things and no place to put them!" For who ever knew a mere man, architect and artist of the beautiful though he were, who had even the beginning of a realization of the absolute necessity for closets--large ones, light ones, and plenty of them? In his special castle, boxes, bundles, and clothing seem to have a magic way of disposing of themselves, "somewhere, somewhen, somehow," and so it does not occur to him that his own particular Clorinda is conducting a private condensing plant which could put those of the large packers to the blush. But let him have just one experience of straightening out and putting to rights, and then only will he appreciate that closets are even more essential than cozy corners and unexpected nooks and crannies for holding pieces of statuary and collecting dust. If a woman could be the "& Company" of every firm of architects, there would be an evolution in home building which would lengthen the lives and shorten the labors of "lady-managers" in many lands. When that comfortable wish becomes a reality, let us hope that "Let there be light" will be printed in large black letters across the space to be occupied by each closet in every house plan, for the average closet is so dark that even a self-respecting family skeleton would decline to occupy it, evil though its deeds are supposed to be. The downpour of the miscellaneous collection of a closet's shelves upon the blind groper after some particular package thereon, gives convincing proof that absence of light means presence of confusion; while it also invites the elusive moth to come in and make himself at home--which he does. THE LINEN CLOSET But after all, it is a blessed good thing to have some closets, even dark ones, and proper care and attention will go a long way toward remedying their defects. Clothes closets we must have, china closets we usually have, and linen closets we sometimes have, not always. To the housewife who possesses a linen closet it is a source of particular pride, and the stocking and care of it her very special pleasure. Its drawers should be deep and its shelves wide and well apart--not less than eighteen inches, and even more in the case of the upper ones, for the accommodation of the reserve supply of blankets, quilts, and other bed coverings. Arrange on the lower shelves the piles of counterpanes, sheets, and pillowcases in constant use, linen and cotton in separate piles, and those of the same size together. Washcloths and towels, heavy, fine, bath and hand, have each their own pile on shelf or in drawer, according to room. Shams and other dainty bed accessories go into the drawers, one of which may be dedicated to the neat strips and tight rolls of old linen and cotton cloth, worn-out underclothing, etc., as they gradually accumulate. Where no provision is made for a linen closet, a case of the wardrobe type, built along the inner wall of a wide hall, answers the purpose very well, and is not unpleasing to the eye if made to harmonize with the other woodwork. A closet of this kind may vary in width from four to six feet, with swinging or sliding doors, preferably the latter, and drawers and shelves, or shelves alone. Or there may be a cupboard above and shelves below, or vice versa. CLOTHES CLOSETS Clothes closets of this description can also be built against unoccupied bedroom walls, the objection to the number of doors thus introduced being offset by the great convenience of having one's clothing immediately at hand, exposed to light and to view directly the doors are opened, for we find things by sight here, not by faith. Angles and recesses which have no special excuse for being are easily converted into closets, one to be used as a hanging place for the various brooms, brushes, dustpans, and dusters in use about the house. Brooms, by the way, must never be allowed to stand upon their bristles, but must either stand upside down or hang. Another nook becomes a convenient place for hanging canvas or ticking bags filled with odds and ends of dress goods, white and colored, news and wrapping papers, balls of twine, and other pick-me-ups. THE CHINA CLOSET The china closet is designed for the accommodation of everything in use on the dining table, with drawers or cupboards for linen and silver, and shelves for dishes. The latter should be arranged with an eye to artistic effect as well as to convenience, platters and decorative plates standing on edge and kept from slipping by a strip of molding nailed to the shelf, pretty cups hanging, and those of more common material and design inverted to keep out the dust. Stand the large and heavy pieces, vegetable dishes, and piles of plates on the bottom shelf, and on the next cups and saucers, sauce dishes, small plates, etc., placing the smaller dishes in front, the taller ones behind. The third shelf may be devoted to glass alone, with tumblers inverted and bowls and odd pieces tastefully arranged, or to both glass and silver. On the fourth shelf place such pieces of glass and silver as are only occasionally brought into service. Personal taste and convenience dictate to a great extent the placing of the dishes, but absolute neatness and spotlessness must hold sway. No other closet is more prone to disarrangement than the china closet, where the careless disposal of one dish seems to invite the general disorder which is sure to follow. For this reason it demands the frequent rearranging which it should receive. Its walls should harmonize in color with those of the dining room. Small, fringed napkins or doilies on and overhanging the shelves help to impart an air of daintiness and make a pretty setting for the dishes. When the china closet does not connect with the dining room, but is a "thing apart," its shelves may receive the same treatment accorded those in the pantry--white paper or oilcloth covering and valance. While well-filled linen and china closets appeal to the aesthetic side of the housewife, clothes closets speak directly to her common-sense, managerial side. If she had a say-so in the matter, their name would be Legion, but she must not think over-hardly of the few she has, for they are invaluable developers of her genius for putting "infinite riches in a little room"; while the constant tussle in their depths with moth and dust induces a daily enlargement of her moral biceps--and her patience. May their shadow never grow less (perish the thought!). CLOSET TIGHTNESS Before anything goes into a closet see that all the cracks in the floor are entirely filled with putty, plaster of Paris, or sawdust, for otherwise dust and lint will accumulate in them, and there the beetle will find a house and the moth a nest for herself. Whiting and linseed oil mixed well together until the paste is smooth will make the putty. The plaster of Paris is easily prepared by mixing the powder with cold water till it is of the right consistency to spread, but it hardens so quickly that only a little can be made ready at a time. Or, dissolve one pound of glue in two gallons of water, and stir into it enough sawdust to make a thick paste. Any of these preparations can be colored to match the floor, put into the cracks with a common steel knife, and made smooth and even with the boards. A better way, however, seems to be to omit the coloring and give the entire floor two coats of paint after the cracks are filled. There are those who prefer covering the floor with enamel cloth; but try as we will, it is all but impossible to fit it so closely that dust and animal life cannot slip under it. CLOSET FURNISHING The floors attended to, next see that there are plenty of hooks screwed on the cleat which should extend around three sides of the closet. They must be at a convenient height, say five feet, and three inches below the first of two or three shelves, to be not over fifteen inches apart, thus making at least two available for use. On the under side of this first shelf screw double hooks, and additional hanging room can be made by suspending a movable rod across the closet on which to hang coat hooks holding garments. Skirts, waists, and coats hold their shape far better when disposed of in this way, and can be packed closely together. A twelve-inch piece of barrel hoop wound with cambric or muslin, and with a loop at the center, is a good substitute for the commercial hook. On the shelves go hat and other boxes, and various parcels, each to be plainly labeled. A chest of drawers at one end of the closet is handy for the disposal of delicate gowns, extra underwear, furs, summer dresses, etc., while a shoe bag insures additional order. The soiled-clothes hamper belongs, not in the clothes closet, but in the bathroom. Too much emphasis cannot be placed on this. The odor from the linen pollutes the naturally close air of the closet and clings to everything it contains. CARE OF CLOSETS AND CONTENTS Wash the woodwork, drawers, floor, and shelves of all closets thoroughly with water containing a few drops of carbolic acid--not enough to burn the hands--and wipe dry. Painted walls which can also be washed are most desirable; if calcimined, the tinting must be renewed each year. If furs are to be put away, brush and beat well, and then comb to remove possible moths or eggs, sprinkle with camphor gum, wrap in old cotton or linen cloth, then in newspaper, and tie securely. Moths, not being literary in their tastes, will never enter therein. All woolens should be put away in the same manner. The closet is clean and sanitary now, and the main thing is to keep it so. All garments ought to be thoroughly brushed and aired before hanging away, particularly in the summer time, with a special application of energy to the bottoms of street gowns, the microscopic examination of one of which revealed millions of tubercular germs--not a pleasant thought, but a salutary one, let us hope. It seems such a pity that the sun, that great destroyer of bacteria, cannot shine into our closets; but until the new architect comes to our rescue with a window, all we can do to sweeten them is to remove the clothing and air by leaving doors and adjacent windows open for a couple of hours. An annual disinfecting with sulphur fumes will destroy all germs of insect life. Use powdered sulphur--it is far more effective than the sulphur candles which are sold for the same purpose. Stand an old pie plate or other tin in a pan of water; on it build a little fire of paper and fine kindling, pour on the powdered sulphur, and leave to smudge and smoke for twenty-four hours. The closet must be sealed up as tight as possible, every crack, crevice, and keyhole being stuffed with newspaper to prevent the fumes from escaping, the entering door, of course, being sealed after the fumes are started. If one desires the sealing to be doubly sealed, newspaper strips two inches wide and pasted together to make several thicknesses, can be pasted over cracks in doors and windows with a gum-tragacanth solution, prepared by soaking two tablespoons of the gum in one pint of cold water for an hour, then placing the bowl in a pan of boiling water, and stirring till dissolved. This is easily washed off and will not stain or discolor the woodwork. Although there is an impression to the contrary, clothing may be left in the closet with entire safety during the smoking, provided it is well away from the fire. Indeed, clothing needs purifying as much as closet, and an occasional disinfecting will help on the good work of sanitation. After the closet is once rid of moths, tar paper specially prepared for the purpose and tacked on the walls, is effectual in keeping them away, for they seem to "smell the battle afar off." CHAPTER XII HANGINGS, BRIC-A-BRAC, BOOKS, AND PICTURES "Step by step" is a good thought to hold when we reach the fancifying of the house, as we only do after days of planning, nights of waking, over the must-be's. And, after all, these last accessories are divided from the necessaries by but a hair line, for it is they which give the home its soul--that beautiful, spiritual softness and radiance which we love and which differentiate the home from the house which is but its shell. The life and spirit of the home should be one of growth and development, which can only be achieved in a proper atmosphere and environment; and these it now rests with the home builder to supply in the radiant harmony and softness which flow from these final "trimmings," which not only create but reflect character. THE CHARM OF DRAPERY Hangings have a considerable share in making the home atmosphere, their mission being to soften harsh angles and outlines and warm cold, stiff plainness into comfort. Window curtains act as an equalizer in bringing the very best out of both light and dark rooms, serving at the same time as a partial background for their contents; while portières are not only aesthetic but useful in deadening sounds, cutting off draughts, and screening one room from another. "Drapes," those flimsy, go-as-you-please looking bunches of poor taste knotted, cascaded, and festooned over mantels, pictures, and chair backs, we have outgrown, confining our efforts in this line to the silk draught curtain to conceal the inelegant yawn of an open grate; and even this is being supplanted by the small screen. CURTAINS Windows must be curtained with relation to their shape and position and the nature of the room. The lower floor of the house, being naturally the heavier, can be curtained in a statelier manner than the lighter upper story. Here is the proper place for our handsome curtains of Irish point and other appliqués of muslin or lace on net, and of scrim with insertions and edges of Renaissance, Cluny, and other laces. These curtains are manufactured in three shades--dark cream or écru, light ivory, and pure white, the ivory being the richest and most desirable--and in simple, inexpensive designs as well as those costly and elaborate, and usually run about 50, 54, and 60 inches wide, and 3 1/2 yards long. The appliqué curtain wears better in an elaborate all-over design which holds the net together and gives it body, cheaper designs which can be had as low as $8 being coarser in quality and pattern. Nottingham curtains must be discredited among other imitations; they are well-meaning but both tasteless and cheaply ostentatious. Lace curtains are rarely draped, but hang in straight simplicity, most of the fullness being arranged in the body that the border design may not be lost in the folds. They are shirred with an inch heading on rods fastened outside of the window casing over which they extend, and care must be taken, if the pattern is prominent, that corresponding figures hang opposite each other. The double hem at the top is nearly twice the diameter of the pole, with the extra length turned over next to the window, the curtains, when hung, clearing the floor about 2 inches. They usually stretch down another inch, which brings them to just the right length. There is no between length in curtains; they must be either sill or floor length. Over curtains may or may not be used with the lace curtains. They are not necessary but have a certain decorative value, particularly in a large room. Raw silk, 30 inches wide, and costing from $0.75 to $1.50 a yard, is the only fabric sold now for this purpose for drawing-room use. The inner curtains may be simply side curtains, or made with a valance as well, and hang from a separate pole to obscure the top of the casement and just escape the floor, covering the outside edges of the lace curtains without concealing their borders. The over curtain should reproduce the coloring of the side wall and ceiling in a shade between the two in density, but if just the right tint cannot be caught, recourse to some soft, harmonious neutral tint will be necessary. Lining is not used unless there is an objection to the colored curtain showing from the street, when the lining silk or sateen must be of the shade of the lace curtain. Almost any sort of pretty net or scrim curtain is appropriate for the downstairs windows, with a preference in favor of the more dignified lace in the drawing-room. With the other rooms we can take more liberty. The ruffled curtain is sash length and looped with a band of the same, or with a white cotton cord and tassel at the middle sash if the window be short, otherwise midway between it and the sill. There are fine fish nets, or _tulle de Cadiz_, 45, 50, and 60 inches wide at 50 cents a yard, which make charming living- or dining-room curtains, edged on three sides with the new 1-inch fringe or fancy edge, at 5 and 10 cents a yard, which comes for that purpose; and madras, plain or figured, is also good, a pretty combination being the fish net with colored madras over curtain. Raw-silk curtains are in use, too, but anything which stands too much between the home dwellers and the air and light is best avoided. Silk curtains are usually trimmed with a brush edge. Glass curtains are only necessary as a screen or to soften the harsh outline of a heavy curtain, and must be as transparent and inconspicuous as possible, the right side toward the glass. They are sill length, shirred to a small brass rod set inside the casing, and draped if the over curtain hangs straight, to maintain a balance. Those used on windows visible at once from the same quarter must be alike. The lace panels with a center design which we sometimes see in windows, but more frequently in doors, are too severe to be either graceful or ornamental. The vestibule door is best treated to correspond with the drawing-room windows, with an additional silk curtain to be drawn at night; or the silk curtain harmonizing with the woodwork of the hall may be used alone. The curtaining of bedroom windows has already been discussed at some length. Swisses, dimities, figured muslins, and madras, either alone or supplemented by a valance, an over curtain, or both, of madras, chintz or cretonne, are preeminently the bedroom curtains, and may either be draped or hang straight, depending somewhat on the shape of the window. The long, narrow window needs the broadening effect of the draped curtain, the illusion of width being further increased by extending the curtain out to cover the casement, while the straight-hanging curtain gives additional length to the short window. Frilled curtains are usually looped, and seemingly increase the size of the room by enlarging the area of vision. An extra allowance of 6 inches is made for draping, with an additional inch or two for shrinkage. The charm of simplicity is always to be borne in mind when curtaining a room. PORTIÈRES Portières must serve their purpose, which is most emphatically _not_ that of "drapery" in the sense in which the word has been so much used, but of convenience and utility, beauty, of course, being the twin sister of the latter nowadays. Figured portières with plain walls, and vice versa, are the rule, the coloring blending with both floor and walls and coming between the two in density. Again the neutral tint comes to the rescue if difficulty in matching is met. There is almost an embarrassment of riches in portière materials in plain and figured velours, woolen brocades, soft tapestries, furniture satins, damasks, velvets, etc., but we are learning the true art value of the simpler denims (plain and fancy), reps, cotton tapestries, rough, heavy linens, and monk's cloth--a kind of jute--for door hangings. The plain goods in dull, soft greens, blues, and browns, with conventional designs in appliqué or outlining, are not only inexpensive but artistic to a high degree, and are easily fashioned by home talent. Plain strips, too, are used for trimming, and stencil work, but the latter requires rather more artistic ability than most of us possess. Whatever the material, it must be soft enough to draw all the way back and leave a full opening, but not so thin as to be flimsy and stringy. The portiere is either shirred over the pole or hung from it by hook safety pins or rings sewed on at intervals of four inches. Double-faced goods have the hems on the side on which they will show least, with any extra length turned over as a valance on the same side. The finished curtain should hang one inch from the floor and will gradually stretch until it just escapes--the proper length. Single-faced materials are lined to harmonize with the room which receives the wrong side. Lengthwise stripes give a long, narrow effect, while crosswise stripes give an apparent additional width, and plain materials seem to increase the size of a doorway. Rods may be either of a wood corresponding with the other woodwork, or of brass, with rings, sockets, and brackets of the same material, the brass rod to be an inch in diameter and the wooden 1 1/2 inches or more and set inside the jambs. Portières are also of service in softening the opening of a large bay window, making a cozy corner, or cutting off an awkward length of hall. When a doorway is very high it is better to carry the portière to within a foot or so of the top, leaving the opening unfilled, or supplying a simple grille of wood harmonizing with the wood of the door. A pretty fashion is to introduce into this space a shelf on which to place pieces of brass or pottery. Beaded, bamboo, and rope affairs are neither draperies nor curtains, graceful, useful nor ornamental, and are consequently not to be considered. Men of science may cry "Down with draperies!"--but we members of that choicer cult known as domestic science stand loyally by them, for though in draperies there may he microbes, there is also largess of coziness and geniality. BRIC-A-BRAC The old-fashioned "whatnot" with its hungrily gaping shelves is responsible for many crimes committed in the name of bric-a-brac, and calls to mind sundry specimens with which proud owners were wont to satisfy its greed: the glass case of wax or feather flowers, flanked and reenforced by plush photograph frames, shells, china vases shining "giltily," silvered and beribboned toasters, peacock-feather fans, with perhaps a cup and saucer bearing testimony to our virtue with its "For a good girl," and other fill-upables, gone but not forgotten. And then followed a time when mantels and bookcase tops bore certain ills in the way of the more modern painted plaques, strings of gilded nuts, embroidered banners, and porcelain and brass clocks so gaudy and bedizened as to explain why time flies. But the architect has come to the rescue with his dignified, stately mantel which repels the trivial familiarity of meaningless decoration, and the bookcase whose simple, quiet elegance is in itself decorative. Blessed be the nothingness which allows Miladi to build her own art atmosphere untainted by gifts of well-intentioned but tasteless friends. THE GROWTH OF GOOD TASTE The germs of the capacity for good taste are born in most of us, but must be sedulously cultivated before they can rightly be called taste, and bric-a-brac presents the best of possibilities for their development. Begin by buying one piece which you know to be beautiful--simple and refined in outline, choice in design, modest in coloring, and fit for the use to which it is to be put--live with it, study it, master it. It will take on many unexpected charms as you grow to know it, and when you are ready to select the next piece you will find that the germ of your talent for discrimination has quietly become other ten talents and grown into a reliable ability to separate the chaff from the wheat. Each acquisition will have its own peculiar individuality which, once conquered, means a liberal education. USEFULNESS WITH BEAUTY While all bric-a-brac should be beautiful, some certain kinds, such as lamps, clocks, and jardinières, are also essentially useful, and these have undergone a wonderful transformation during recent years as a result of the movement toward simplicity, honesty of purpose, and fitness. It would be hard to imagine anything more incongruous than the porcelain lamp decorated with flowers of heroic endurance which blossomed unwiltingly on, regardless of the heat; or the frivolously decorated clock when the passing of time is so serious a matter; or the gaudy jardinière, whose coloring killed the green of the plant it held. But we have grown past this. Now our light at eventide is shed through a simple, plain-colored shade of porcelain or of Japan paper and bamboo (if one cannot afford the plain or mosaic shades of opalescent glass), from an oil tank fitted into a bowl of hand-hammered brass or copper, or of pottery, of which there are so many beautiful pieces of American manufacture in dull greens, blues, browns, grays, and reds. These lamps are not expensive--no more so than their onyx and brass forbears--and are quiet, restful, beneficent in their influence. Jardinières we find in the same wares and colorings, which not only throw the plant into relief but tone in with the other decorations of a room in which nothing stands out distinct from its fellows, but all things work together for harmony. Clocks no longer stare us out of countenance, but follow, in brass, copper, or rich, dark woods, the sturdy simplicity of their ancestor, the grandfather's clock, and so become worthy of the place of honor upon the mantel, where candlesticks, antique or modern, in brass or bronze, also find a congenial resting place. [Illustration: The drawing-room.] CONSIDERATIONS IN BUYING There are so many vases, jugs, bronzes, medallions, jars, and bowls that one must needs walk steadfastly to avoid buying just for the pleasure of it, whereas each piece must be chosen with reference to the place it is to occupy and to its associates. Any piece of genuine Japanese art ware, of which Cloisonné is perhaps the best known; old or ancestral china; objects of historical interest; different examples of American pottery, among others the Grueby, Van Briggle, and Teco, with their soft, dull glazes, and the Rookwood with its brilliantly glazed rich, mellow browns, its delicately tinted dull Iris glaze, and other styles which are being brought out; Wedgwood with its cameo-like reliefs; the rainbow-tinted Favrile glass; the Copenhagen in dull blues and grays--all these embody, each in its individual way, the requirements of art bric-a-brac. But the brown Rookwood will overshadow the Copenhagen, and the multicolored Cloisonné will kill the Iris, and so each piece must have a congenial companion if any. And above all, don't crowd! Bric-a-brac needs breathing room, and individual beauty is lost in the jumbling together of many pieces in a heterogeneous maze of color, which confuses and wearies the eye. All the fine-art product asks is to be let alone--a small boon to grant to so great worth. "Tip-overable" flower holders defeat their own ends--utility--but there are many which are well balanced and beautiful, too: tall, wide-mouthed cut, Bohemian, or more simple glass for long-stemmed roses, carnations, or daisies; brown Van Briggle, Grueby, or Rookwood bowls for nasturtiums, golden rod, and black-eyed Susans; green for hollyhocks, dull red for dahlias, gladioli, etc., flowers and receptacles thus forming a true color symphony. Parian and Carrara marble, immortally beautiful, we can but gaze at from afar, but masterpieces of the sculptor's chisel are ours at small cost in ivory-tinted plaster reproductions of the Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory, busts and medallions of famous personages, etc., which may with truth be called "art for art's sake." Dining-room bric-a-brac generally consists of whatever occupies the plate rail--an interesting array of plates, pitchers, bowls, jars, cups and saucers, steins, cider mugs, and tankards. And here our cherished ancestral china finds a safe haven from which it surveys its young, modern descendants with benignant toleration. BOOKS A spirit of friendliness and companionship radiates from a good book--a geniality to be not only felt, but cultivated and enjoyed. The friendship of man is sometimes short-lived and evanescent, but the friendship of books abideth ever. Paraphrasing "Thanatopsis": "For our gayer hours They have a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and they glide Into our darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere we are aware." Truly, a book for every mood, and a mood for every book, THEIR SELECTION The true measure of a book is not "How well does it entertain," but "How much help does it give in the daily struggle to overcome the bad with the good," and as one makes friends with muscle-giving authors the fancy for light-minded acquaintances among books gradually wears away. Although different tastes require special gratification in certain directions, yet some few books must have place in every well-balanced library. First always, the Bible, with concordance complete for study purposes, a set of Shakespeare in small, easily handled volumes, a set of encyclopaedias, and a standard dictionary. Then some of the best known poets--Milton, Spenser, Pope, Goldsmith, Burns, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, the Brownings, Byron, Homer, Dante, etc., with Longfellow, Riley, and some others of our best-loved American poets--for though we may not care for poetry we cannot afford to deny ourselves its elevating influence; standard histories of our own and other countries; familiar letters of great men which also mirror their times--Horace Walpole, Lord Macaulay, etc.; essays of Bacon, Addison, DeQuincey, Lamb, Irving, Emerson, Lowell, and Holmes; and certain works of fiction which have stood the test of time and criticism, with Dickens and Thackeray heading the list. Indulgence in all the so-called "popular" novels of the day, like any other dissipation, profits nothing, and vitiates one's taste for good literature at the same time. Therefore, hold fast that which is known to be good in novels, with here and there just a little spice of recent fiction; for man cannot live by spice alone, which causes a sort of mental dyspepsia which is very hard to overcome. SETS An appetite for "complete sets" is a perverted one which usually goes with a love for the shell of the book rather than its meat. It is better far to prune out the obscure works and buy, a few at a time if necessary, the best known works of favorite authors, than to clutter up one's bookshelves with volumes which will never be opened. Partial sets acquired in this way can be of uniform edition and gain in value from those which are left in the shop. BINDING Books, like our other friends, have an added attraction if tastily clothed. Good cloth bindings, not too ornate or strong in color, are substantial and usually best for the home library. Real leather bindings of morocco or pigskin are rich and suggestive of good food within, but imitation leather must join other domestic outcasts. Though it may look well at first it soon shows its quality of shabby-genteel. Calf has deteriorated because of the modern quick method of tanning by the use of acids, which dries the skin and causes it to crack. Books in party attire of white paper and parchment and very delicate colors are not good comrades, for the paper cover which must be put on to protect the binding is a nuisance, while without it "touch me not" seems to be written all over the book. Our best book friends are not of this kind, but permit us to be on terms of friendly intimacy with them, receiving as their reward all due meed of courteous treatment. There can be no true reverence for books in the heart of the vandal who leaves marks of disrespectful soiled fingers on their pages, turns down their leaves, and breaks their backs by laying them open, face down. PAPER Their paper should be of a good quality, not too heavy, and the type clear, both of which conditions usually obtain in an average-priced book. Their housing has much to do with their preservation. Dampness is, perhaps, their deadliest enemy, not only rotting and loosening the covers, but mildewing the leaves and taking out the "size" which gives them body. An outside wall is always more or less damp, and for this reason the bookcase must stand out from it at least a foot, if it stands there at all, and preferably at right angles to it. Dust is also an insidious enemy, from which, in very sooty, dirty localities, glass doors afford the best protection. These must be left open occasionally to ventilate the case, for books must have air and light to keep them fresh and sweet and free from dampness, but not sun to fade their covers. Intense artificial heat also affects them badly, wherefore, the upper part of the room being the hotter, cases should never be more than eight feet high, the use of window seat and other low cases having very decided advantages, apart from their decorative value. Whatever the design of the case--and, of course, it must harmonize with the other wood of the room--its shelves must be easily adjustable to books of different heights, standing in compact rows and not half opened to become permanently warped and spoiled. Varnished or painted shelves grow sticky with heat and form a strong attachment for their contents. The bookcase curtain is useful more as a protection against dust than as an art adjunct, for there is nothing more delightful to the cultivated eye than the brave front presented by even, symmetrical rows of well-bound volumes, so suggestive of hours of profitable companionship. All the books must be taken down frequently and first beaten separately, then in pairs, and dusted, top and covers, with a soft brush or a small feather duster. "The true University of these days is a Collection of Books," and one's education cannot begin too early. PICTURES So many homes combining taste and elegance and refinement in their furnishing, still impress one with the feeling that somewhere within the lute there is a rift which destroys its perfect harmony, and that rift is not far to seek--it lies in the pictures. Cheap chromos, lithographs, and woodcuts have small excuse for being in these days of fine reproductions in photographs, photogravures, and engravings, and their presence in a home indicates not only a lopsided development of the artistic sense, but an indifference to that beauty of which art is but one of the expressions. Happy, indeed, is the homemaker in realizing the necessity and privilege of growing up to the works of artists who have seen beauty where she would have been blind, and felt to a depth which she has not known; for in that realization lies the promise of ability to rise to the point where she will at last be able to feel as the artist felt when he wrought. ART SENSE Mrs. Lofty, who never has to stop to count the cost, loses the valuable art education which our housewife all unconsciously acquires in the months which necessarily pass between her picture purchases--months in which she has time to discover new beauties, fresh interest, deeper meaning, in those she already has. All these new impressions she carries with her to the selection of her next treasure, and the result will probably be a choice of greater artistic merit than she would have been capable of making before. So long as there is something in a picture which impresses her, the fact that she does not fully understand its underlying meaning need be no obstacle to its purchase; the light of comprehension will come. THE INFLUENCE OF PICTURES The picturing of the home should be undertaken in no light humor, for better no pictures at all than poor ones. Little, trivial, meaningless nothings are like small talk--uninspiring and devitalizing--and therefore unprofitable; battle and other exciting scenes wear on the nerves; the constant presence of many persons is tiring in pictures as well as out; small figures and fine detail which cannot be distinguished across the room cause visual cramp; and the rearing horse which keeps one longing for the rockers cannot be called reposeful. Any picture in which one seeks in vain the rest and peace and quietude and inspiration which the home harmony demands, is but a travesty of art--domestically speaking. There is probably nothing more rest-giving than the marine view, and next come the pretty pastoral and cool woodland scenes, while madonnas and other pictures of religious significance express their own worth--just a few choice, well-selected photographs, etchings, and engravings of agreeable subjects, with a painting or two; that's all we want. OIL PAINTINGS Really fine oils are costly, and no house can stand more than one or two at most, because of the impossibility of giving them the correct lighting and the distance they require, without which their best effect is lost. Properly, an oil painting should be given a wall or even a whole room to itself, as water colors and colored prints seem colorless, and black-and-whites cold, by comparison. The deep gold frame is its best setting. Gold frames and mats are usually effective on colored pictures of any kind in bringing out certain colors, dark ones especially, though artists are growing to use wood frames filled to harmonize with and throw into relief some one tone in the picture, the mat taking the same color. Gilt has no place on photographs, etchings, or engravings, their simple, flat frames of oak, birch, sycamore, etc., with their mats, if mats are used, toning with the gray, brown, or black of the picture. Fantastically carved and decorated frames are things of the past, both frame and mat being now essentially a part of the picture and blending with it, while setting it off to the best advantage. Passepartout is an inexpensive substitute for framing, particularly of small pictures, and is effectively employed with a properly colored mat and binding. White mats are still in occasional use for water colors and for black-and-whites, but for photographs we find a more grateful warmth in following the tone of the picture. ENGRAVINGS AND PHOTOGRAPHS Engravings and photogravures most satisfactorily reproduce paintings, as hand work always has more life than the photographic copy. All reproductions, however, bring the works of world-famous artists within our reach, and enable us to be on intimate terms with the animals of Rosa Bonheur, the peasants of Millet, the portraits of Rembrandt, Rubens, Van Dyck, Sargent, and Gainsborough, the landscapes of Corot, Daubigny, Dupre, and Turner, and the madonnas of Raphael, Botticelli, Bodenhauser, and Correggio. Amateur photography, with its soft pastel effects in black, green, white, red, and gray, is making rapid strides and doing much to advance the cause of art in the home. The hand-colored photograph is acceptable if the coloring is true and rightly applied, while certain charming colored French prints, so like water colors as to be hardly distinguishable from them, have distinct worth. Then there are the reproductions of our present-day illustrators, in both black-and-white and colors, and in which we seem to have a personal interest. Originals are always costly and hard to get, the exception being the obscure but worthy artist whose fame and fortune are yet to be won. The carved Florentine frame is a valuable setting for certain colored heads or painted medallions. SUITABILITY OF SUBJECTS Although any good picture may be hung with propriety in almost any of the first-floor rooms, heads of authors and pictures having historic and literary significance seem especially suggestive of the library; musicians and musical subjects of the music room, or wherever one's musical instruments may be; dignified subjects, such as cathedrals, with the game and animal pictures which used to hang in the dining room, of the hall; while we now picture our dining room with pretty landscapes or anything else cheery and attractive. Family portraits, if we must have them, hang better in one's own room, but really their room is better than their company, as a rule. HANGING OF PICTURES As to hanging pictures, the main thing is to have them on a level with the eye, and each subject in a good light--dark for light parts of the room, light for dark. Small pictures are most effective in groups, hung somewhat irregularly and compactly. All pictures lie close to the wall, suspended by either gilt or silvered wire, whichever tones best with the wall decoration. The use of two separate wires, each attached to its own hook, is preferable to the one wire, whose triangular effect is inharmonious with the horizontal and vertical lines of the room. Small pictures are best hung with their wires invisible, thus avoiding a network on the walls. CHAPTER XIII THE NICE MACHINERY OF HOUSEKEEPING "Solomon Grundy, Born on Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday. That's the end of Solomon Grundy." This little tale serves to show how it simplifies life to have a time for everything and everything in its time. System was probably a habit in the Grundy family, and was so bred in Solomon's bones that it never occurred to him that he could reverse the order observed by the Grundys for generations back and be married on Thursday, for instance. And yet there is room for conjecture as to how much difference it might have made in his life if he had elected to contract an alliance on that day instead of a fatal illness. System is a fine servant but a poor master. Simply because custom has decreed that Monday shall be wash day, Tuesday ironing day, and so on, it does not necessarily follow that this programme must be strictly adhered to in every family, or that the schedule of the week's work, once made out, cannot be changed to meet the unexpected exigencies which are apt to arise. To be sure, Monday as wash day has many points in its favor; but if it must be postponed until Tuesday, or the clothes have not dried well and the ironing has to go over into Wednesday, there is no reason why the whole domestic harmony should become "like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh." Although order is heaven's first law, it occasionally happens that it is better to break the law than to be broken by it. And so, when the young housekeeper's nicely arranged plans for each day in the week are suddenly turned topsy-turvy, let her take heart of grace, remembering that there are whole days that "ain't teched yet," and begin again. MONDAY The chief objection to washing on Monday is that it necessitates sorting and putting the soiled linen to soak on Sunday, which not only violates the religious principles of many households, but shortens and spoils the flavor of the maid's free Sabbath evening. Then, too, the sorting of the linen often reveals holes and rents which should properly be repaired before laundering increases the damage, and a Tuesday washing makes this possible, with the straightening out and readjustment generally necessary after Sunday. On the other hand, the longer the linen remains unlaundered the more difficult it is to cleanse, with the risk that good drying days may tarry and the ironing thus linger along till the end of the week, which is inconvenient and bothersome all round. Therefore it seems quite advisable for Mrs. Grundy to wash on Monday, and an occasional postponement until Tuesday will not then be a matter of any great moment. The routine work of every day--the airing, brushing up, and dusting of the rooms, the preparation and serving of meals at their regular hours, the chamber work, dish-washing, in short, all the have-to-be-dones, must not, and need not, be interfered with by the special work which belongs to each day. There are hours enough for both, and rest time, too, unless the housekeeper or maid be cut after the pattern of Chaucer's Sergeant of the Law: "Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he semed bisier than he was." Wash day is always somewhat of an ordeal, and a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together is necessary to carry it successfully through. A simple breakfast will give the maid an opportunity to sort and put the clothes to soak, if this was not done the night previous, heat water for the washing, and perhaps prepare vegetables for the day's meals, before breakfast is served; and if her mistress lends a helping hand with the dishes, dusting, or other regular work of the day, she can go to her tubs just that much earlier. Getting up in the wee sma' hours and working by early candle light is misdirected ambition. The maid needs her rest to fit her for her day's labors, and washing well done requires the light of day. Set the breakfast hour ahead half an hour and so gain a little extra time. Foresight and extra planning on Saturday will provide certain left-overs from Sunday's meals which can be quickly and easily transformed into Monday's luncheon. Dinner, too, should be a simple meal, but don't add to the other trials of the day cold comfort at meal time. A smoking-hot dinner has a certain heartening influence to which we are all more or less susceptible. The doors leading from the room in which the washing is done must be kept closed to exclude the steamy odor from the rest of the house, and the maid allowed to proceed with her work without interruption. By eleven o'clock she will probably have reached a point where she can stop to prepare luncheon. If the family is very small, she can frequently do not only the washing but considerable of the ironing as well on Monday, but that is crowding things a little too much. After the washing is accomplished the line should be drawn at what _must_ be done, and nothing which is not absolutely necessary put into the few remaining hours of the day, for the maid's back and arms have had quite enough exercise for the time being. If a laundress is employed, the cleaning of the kitchen floor and the laundry and the ironing should be about accomplished by night, unless it seems best to have her clean and do other extra work after the washing is finished. If the housewife is her own laundress, she must acquire the gentle art of letting things go on the hard days, for she cannot possibly be laundress, maid, and house-mother all in one, and her health and well-being are of prime importance. TUESDAY The washing being done on Monday, it naturally follows that Mrs. Grundy irons on Tuesday, after the regular routine work has been dispatched. The first thought is the fire, if the ironing is done by a coal range. After breakfast is prepared the fire box should be filled with coal to the top of the lining, and draughts opened, to be closed as soon as the surface coal begins to burn red, the top of the stove brushed off, and the irons set on to heat. This is a good place to sandwich in a little baking, before the fire becomes too hot for cakes or delicate pastry. If the maid feels that she must devote this time to the preparation of vegetables, or to other work which is liable to interfere with her work later on, madam may choose to step into the breach and try her hand at sundry delectables for the ironing-day luncheon or dinner, both meals being as simple as consistent with comfort and health. The ironing, once commenced, should continue uninterruptedly until time to prepare luncheon, when the irons are pushed back and the fire shaken or raked and replenished. By this time the clothes bars should begin to take on a comfortable look of fullness. It is well to keep them covered with cheesecloth as a protection from dust and soot and, in summer, fly specks. If any frying is to be done, set the bars in another room until it is over and the kitchen thoroughly aired, otherwise the odor will cling to the clothes. After luncheon the range is cleaned and the irons drawn forward to heat for the afternoon session; and by the time the table is cleared, dishes washed, and kitchen brushed up, both they and the maid are ready for the renewed onslaught. Though it may occasionally run over into the next day, the average ironing ought to be completed during the afternoon and remain well spread out on the bars overnight to dry and air. Tuesday, though a full day, is so clean and neat that there is no reason why the maid should not keep herself equally so and be ready to serve the table and attend the door without further preparation than slipping on her white apron--and cap, if she wears one. WEDNESDAY On Wednesday Mrs. Grundy mends and puts away the clean clothes and picks up some of the household stitches which had to be dropped on the two preceding days. The kitchen must be put in order, the refrigerator must have its semiweekly cleaning, and the ashes which have accumulated in the stove removed, a new fire built, and the hearth washed. While the oven is heating for the mid-week baking there are vestibules and porches to wash, walks to sweep, the cellar to investigate, and a dozen little odds and ends to attend to which, with the baking, make a busy morning. The cleaning of silver dovetails nicely with the Wednesday work, and during the canning season the preserving of fruit can be done at this time with the least interference with the other work of the house, though when it becomes a case of the fruit being ripe, other work must give way for the nonce. In short, Wednesday is the general weekly catch-all into which go all the odd jobs for which room cannot be found elsewhere. THURSDAY It is Mrs. Grundy's theory, strengthened by practical experience, that it is better to extend the weekly sweeping and cleaning over two days than to condense it all into one; and so Phyllis takes the bedroom cleaning as her special Thursday work, and armed with broom, dustpan, pail, and cleaning cloths, she ascends to the upper regions as soon as she has reduced the lower to their everyday nicety. The daily brushing up with broom or carpet sweeper removes the surface dirt, but sweeping day means a good "digging out." She commences operations by sweeping out the closet and wiping off the floor with a cloth wrung out of hot borax water. Then she brushes down, rolls or folds all curtains and draperies, and fastens them up as near the pole as possible, perhaps slipping a case over each as a protection from the dust. If the bed is hung with a valance, that, too, is pinned up. All small toilet articles and knicknacks are dusted and placed on the bed, and covered with a dust sheet of coarse unbleached muslin, or calico; bowl, pitcher, and other crockery are washed and dried, inside and out, and placed in the closet, with dresser and stand covers, which have been shaken out of the window. These, if soiled, are relegated to the clothes hamper, to be replaced by fresh ones. Chairs and easily moved articles of furniture are dusted and set outside of the room. If there is a fire the ashes are carefully removed and brushed from the stove; the windows are opened unless there is a strong wind, when they are opened a little after the cleaning is done, and the sweeping begins. The broom should be of about medium weight, held almost perpendicularly and passed over the carpet with a long, light stroke and steady pressure which will not scatter the dirt, and turned every few strokes that both sides may receive equal wear. Steps can be saved by sweeping to a central point, going with the nap of the carpet, never against it, taking special care to dislodge the dust which gathers between the edges of the carpet and the baseboard. Shreds of dampened paper, or damp bran scattered over the carpet facilitate its cleaning; or in lieu of these the broom may be wet and shaken as free from water as possible before using. Any method of keeping down the dust saves much cleaning of woodwork, walls, and pictures. Rugs are swept in the same way as carpets. After they are cleaned the edges are turned up and the bare floor gone over with a long-handled hair brush, or with a broom covered with a Canton-flannel bag. If the floor is painted, follow the duster with a damp cloth; if hardwood, rub well with a flannel slightly moistened with crude oil and turpentine. Small rugs are taken out of doors and shaken or beaten. They must be held by the sides, never by the ends. Matting should be swept with a soft broom and wiped over with a damp cloth, using as little water as possible, and no soap, which stains and discolors it. Rubbing with a cloth wrung out of hot water will usually take out the spots which the regular cleaning has failed to remove, while grease spots yield to the application of a thin paste of fuller's earth left for three days and then brushed off. Rooms not in daily use do not need a thorough sweeping oftener than every two weeks, a whisk broom and carpet sweeper sufficing between times. While the dust is settling put a fresh bag or a clean, soft duster on the broom and brush off ceiling and walls, using a straight downward stroke for the latter. The cloth must be renewed when it becomes soiled. A long-handled feather duster is handy for cleaning moldings and cornices. This, by the way, is the only legitimate use to which a feather duster can be put, in addition to dusting books and the backs and wires of pictures. Instead of taking up the dust, it simply sets it free to settle elsewhere, making a lingering trouble, long drawn out; for though one may whisk around with it and then enjoy the conscious virtue which comes with having "one more thing out of the way," the complacency is short-lived and the cheesecloth duster finally has to come to the rescue. All dusters should be hemmed, otherwise the ravelings are apt to catch and pull down the bric-a-brac. After the walls Phyllis dusts the woodwork and goes over it with a clean, damp cloth, not omitting doorknobs, and looking out for finger marks in likely places. If these are stubborn, a little kerosene in the cleaning water will help on the good work. She brushes and wipes off the window casings and gas fixtures, dusts and replaces the furniture, polishes the mirrors, and washes the windows the last thing, provided the sun is not shining on them at this time. If so, the work will have to be deferred and slipped in with special work of some other time. In localities where there is little smoke the weekly washing may be dispensed with, dusting off each pane with a soft cloth being all that is necessary. In freezing weather this is the only cleaning possible, though if the glass is much soiled it can be gone over with a sponge wet with alcohol; or with whiting mixed with diluted alcohol or ammonia, followed by much the same rubbing process employed in cleaning silver, with a final polishing with soft paper, tissue preferably, which gives the finest possible shine to any vitreous surface. If there are inside or outside blinds, they must be well brushed, and casings and sills which are much soiled washed, before the glass is cleaned. The requirements for successful window cleaning are a third of a pail of hot water containing a little ammonia or borax, plenty of clean, soft cloths free from lint, a complete absence of soap, and a decided presence of energy--aye, there's the rub! The less water used the better. Instead of allowing it to run down in tears, squeeze the cloth out nearly dry, going quickly over one pane at a time, following immediately with a dry cloth, and then polishing. Wrap the cleaning cloth around a skewer and go into the corners and around the edges of the glass. Nothing is more productive of distorted vision than looking through a glass darkly. Wherefore, for the sake of the mental as well as the physical eye, see that Phyllis's window cleaning is a success. After the bedrooms are in order the halls and passages on the same floor, and the bathroom, are swept and cleaned. FRIDAY On Friday Mrs. Grundy's living rooms and first-floor halls are treated to their weekly renovation, which is similar to that which the bedrooms receive, only there is more of it. The preparation of the drawing-room for sweeping is more elaborate, containing, as it does, more pieces of furniture and bric-a-brac to be cared for. All movable pieces are dusted and taken from the room. Upholstered furniture must be well brushed, going down into the tufts and puffs with a pointed brush similar to that used by painters, and pieces which are too large to move covered with a dust sheet. A vigorous brushing with a whisk broom will be necessary around the edges of the carpet, in the corners, and under the heavy furniture. Mirrors must be polished, glasses, frames, backs, and wires of pictures wiped off, and fancy carving which the duster will not reach cleaned out with a soft brush. If the room contains a marble mantel, it can be cleaned with sapolio or almost any good scouring powder, and tiles washed with soap and water. The fireplace should be cleaned out before the sweeping is done, and the hearth brushed, with a bath afterwards. Brass trimmings and utensils in use about the grate can be easily kept clean by rubbing first with kerosene and then with red pomade; but if neglected and allowed to become tarnished, it is somewhat of an undertaking to restore them to their pristine brightness. In an extreme case rub with vinegar and salt, wash off quickly, and follow with some good polish. Results obtained in this way are not lasting, and the vinegar and salt should be resorted to only after other well-tried means have failed. Another home cure for tarnished brass and other metals is a mixture of whiting, four pounds; cream of tartar, one quarter pound; and calcinated magnesia, three ounces. Apply with a damp cloth. The dust will settle while the brasses are being cleaned, and then the carpet or rug should be brushed over a second time, lightly, and may be brightened once a month or so by rubbing, a small space at a time, with a stiff scrubbing brush dipped in ammonia water--two tablespoons of ammonia to a gallon of water--and then quickly wiping over with a dry cloth. The chandeliers and gas fixtures should be wiped with a cloth wrung from weak suds, the globes dusted or washed as required, and a doubled coarse thread drawn back and forth through the gas tips, if gas is in use. Registers should be wiped out and dusted every sweeping day to prevent the accumulation of dust. All woodwork, if painted, is dusted and then wiped down with a damp cloth; if hardwood, use the crude oil and turpentine, going into grooves and corners with a skewer, and rub hard with a second clean flannel. Hardwood floors receive the same treatment after being swept, and it is a good plan to go over all the furniture in the same way to preserve the life and fine finish of the wood, but it is imperative that the wood be rubbed _absolutely dry_. When the windows have been washed, furniture replaced, and everything is in apple-pie order in the drawing-room, each of the remaining rooms is cleaned in like manner, ending with the hall, where each stair is brushed with a whisk broom into the dust pan, and carpet, walls, ceiling, and woodwork attended to as in the other rooms. The dusting cloths and broom bags should go regularly into the weekly wash. It is far better to do one room complete at a time than to have a whole floor torn up at once. Just because it is sweeping day is no reason for turning the family into a whole flock of Noah's doves, with no place for the soles of their feet. It is very easy to transform black Friday into good Friday by a little judicious manipulation of the household helm. The cleaning, in addition to the routine work, is about all Friday can hold, without crowding. A few anxious thoughts for the morrow's baking will provide all things necessary to it, so there will be no delay about commencing it; for-- SATURDAY Saturday Mrs. Grundy devotes to providing for the wants of the inner man. The heaviest part of the day's work is the preparation of food for two or three days. Then the refrigerator must have its second cleaning, and the pantry, too, probably requires renovating by this time. Entries must be cleaned, a second tour of inspection of the cellar made, and the house put in trim for the "day that comes betwixt a Saturday and Monday." HOUSE CLEANING This is not the domestic bugbear it used to be, when one mighty spasm of cleanliness shook the house from garret to cellar and threw its inmates into a fever of discomfort and dismay. The modern house-cleaning season is one of indolence and ease compared with what it once was, when not only the cleaning and living problem, but the man problem as well, had to be solved; when the master sighed for a spot in some vast wilderness, vaguely wondering, as he dined lunch-counter fashion and then gingerly wound his weary way through a labyrinth of furniture, boxes, and rolls of carpet to his humble couch set up behind the piano or in some other unlikely place, if marriage were a failure, while contact with the business end of a tack gave point to his thoughts. No, indeed! The spring and autumn of his discontent are made glorious summer now by the more civilized system which, beginning at the attic and working downward, cleans one room, or perhaps two at a time, as a day's work, restoring everything to order before a new attack is made. PREPARATION The task of cleaning a house in which the regular work is systematically carried on is not so very arduous, and follows the general plan of the weekly cleaning. Before the real work begins have a general overhauling and weeding out of cubbies, boxes, and trunks, scrub out drawers and reline with clean paper, and clean clothespresses, wardrobes, and closets. In the spring, there will be furs and flannels to shake, brush, and put away, and in the fall, summer clothing. Before the spring cleaning the stoves must be taken down and cleaned out, stovepipes cleaned and rubbed with boiled oil to prevent rust, and both put away in the attic. Chimneys, too, must be cleaned, and if the heating is by furnace, it should be put in order and all its parts swept free from soot, covering the registers during the operation. This is better done in the spring so the summer winds cannot scatter the dust and soot through the house. The supply of coal and wood for the ensuing year should be put into the cellar, and then the preliminaries are over. The fall cleaning must be delayed until the canning and pickling are all done, and the "busy, curious, thirsty fly" is pretty well extinct. Now is the best time for painting, whitewashing, papering, and other decorating and repairing. If done in the spring, its freshness is bound to be more or less spoiled by insects during the summer, be as careful as one may. CLEANING DRAPERIES, RUGS, CARPETS The first step in the real cleaning is to take down draperies, shake well, hang out on the line, right side under, and beat out the dust with a dog- or riding-whip. Follow with a hard brushing on the wrong side and wipe down quickly with a damp cloth, following the nap, if there is one. Lace and muslin curtains are repaired, if necessary, and laundered, or sent to the cleaner. If only slightly soiled, they can be freshened by folding, after shaking, and sprinkling all the folds thickly with magnesia. Let this remain three or four days and then brush out thoroughly. Next rugs and carpets come out and are well swept on both sides, then hung on the line and beaten with a flail--one of two feet of rubber hose partially slipped over a round stick and split lengthwise into four parts, being the best--until no vestige of dust remains. Heavy carpets, Brussels, velvets, Wiltons, Axminsters, and Moquettes, need not be lifted oftener than every two or three years, unless the presence of moths about bindings, corners, or seams is detected, when they must come up at once. The ravage of moths can be prevented by drawing the tacks occasionally, turning back the edge of the carpet half a yard or so, laying a cloth wrung out of hot water on the wrong side, and pressing with a very hot iron, holding the iron on until the cloth is dry and then moving on until all the edges are thoroughly steamed and dried. This will not injure the carpet and kills the eggs and larvae. Follow this up by washing the floor with hot borax water, dry thoroughly, sprinkle with black pepper, and retack the carpet. Sometimes small pieces of cotton batting dipped in turpentine and slipped under the edges of the carpet will keep the moths away. If there are cracks at the juncture of baseboard and floor, pour in benzine and fill with plaster of Paris. Three-ply or ingrain carpets can be steamed and ironed without removing the tacks. CLEANING MATTINGS AND WOODWORK Mattings must be lifted, shaken, swept, wiped off with a cloth dampened in borax water, and left on the lawn to sun. No soap should be used on linoleum, and but little water. Clean by rubbing with a damp cloth till no soil comes off, and polish with a very little linseed oil. All upholstered furniture should be taken out, covered with a cloth, and thoroughly beaten with a rattan, shaking the cloth as it becomes dusty. Before rugs and carpets go down, walls, woodwork, and floors are cleaned. Walls, if painted, are washed with hot water containing a little kerosene, a square yard at a time, which is dried before moving on to the next area. Rubbing down with the inside of the crust of bread a day old will clean papered walls. Painted woodwork is best cleaned with whiting mixed to a thick cream with cold water, rubbed on with a cloth wrung out of hot water, following the grain of the wood. Wash off the whiting with a second cloth, rub dry, and polish with flannel. Painted walls may also be treated in this way, beginning at the top and working down. If soap is preferred, use the suds, rubbing the soap itself only on very much soiled spots. Kerosene in the water obviates the necessity for soap. Enameled paint requires only a cloth wrung out of hot water, followed by a rubbing with a dry cloth. Avoid using water on hardwood, boiled oil or turpentine and oil being best for woodwork and floors. Now is the time to scrub floors, if pine, with hot borax suds, and to rewax or varnish hardwood floors if they require it. CLEANING BEDS Beds come to pieces and go out of doors, where the slats are washed with carbolic-acid water, and springs and woodwork thoroughly brushed and sprinkled with corrosive sublimate and alcohol, if traces of bugs are found. If the beds are enameled, they are washed entire, with the exception of the brass trimmings, with hot water and ammonia, and wiped dry. Bedclothes, mattresses, and pillows are hung out and sunned, mattresses and pillows both beaten, and the former carefully brushed, going into each tuft and crevice. Shades which have become soiled at the bottom can be reversed. House cleaning is not an unmixed joy, but if done systematically, one room at a time, it is soon accomplished and becomes a part of that biography which all housekeeping is at last--a biography which should be written in characters of gold, its pages richly illumined with crosses, and palms, and laurels, and at its end a jeweled crown bearing the inscription: "She hath done what she couldn't!" CHAPTER XIV HIRED HELP The difficulty of dealing with the subject of hired help is about as great as the dealing with the help herself, who is so often not a help at all. The appellation is the one insisted upon by the great unorganized union of the "household tramp," whose pride cannot endure the stigma implied in the name "servant," and who has never learned that we, in all walks of life, are more or less servants--servants of Fame, or Ambition, or Duty, or Country, or Business. The maid who gave notice on the spot because she was introduced by the daughter of the house to her mother as "your new servant," seems to be the incarnation of that spirit of independence which is loosening the very foundations of our national structure. England has servants; Germany has servants, but America has help. Let us then, like Agag of old, walk delicately, remembering that help, by any other name, is even more surrounded by thorns. THE GENERAL HOUSEMAID It is almost impossible to get a competent girl for general housework these days, and viewed in the light of past experiences with the able but unwilling, the willing but unable, the stupid, the dishonest, the ignorant servant within our gates, with the very occasional good genius of the kitchen to leaven the lump of incompetency, we are sorely tempted to give up the struggle and do our own work, feeling that the time and strength so consumed are more than compensated for by the peace of mind which comes with the cessation of hostilities. But after a breathing spell we are generally ready for another joust, and the struggle goes on as of yore. Shops and factories have greatly reduced the supply of servants, and of these so many specialize as cooks, waitresses, and nurses that we really have a very small choice when seeking an all-round maid--one who has some knowledge and experience of the different branches of housecraft. And right here we encounter another difficulty: ways of living and methods of household management are so diverse that a girl might be considered competent by one mistress and entirely the reverse by another. Our servants are more or less as we make them, and it is frequently the case that the mistress herself needs a course of instruction before she is capable of rightly instructing her maid--a course which shall embrace not only housewifery, but the cultivation of self-command, patience, wisdom, consideration, and that power which comes only with knowledge. The raw foreigner with whom she often has to deal is so entirely ignorant of life as we know it; her training in field and peasant's cottage has in no way prepared her for the refined home with its dainty furnishings and food, and the difficulty of understanding and being understood adds to the perplexities of the slow and undeveloped mind. Such a servant is really nothing but a child, so far as her faculties are concerned, and should be treated as one until experience and training shall enable her to put away childish things. Like most children, she is an imitator; let it be our care that we set only a worthy example before her. She is quick to recognize inconsistency or unfairness, and to seize an opportunity to get the upper hand. Try to treat her with a firmness which is not arbitrary, and a kindness and consideration which are not familiarity. Make her feel that she is an entity, a person of place and importance in making home comfort, and a good bit of that subtle antagonism which seems to exist between mistress and maid will be gradually smoothed away. Don't wonder if she has the blues occasionally; you have them yourself. Don't be worried if she is a trifle slow; help her to systematize and so shorten her labors. If she cracks and breaks your dishes show her how to handle and care for them, with a timely word about avoiding undue haste. If she wants to do certain things in her own way, let her, provided it is not a bad way, until you can prove to her that yours is better. You know there are other ways than yours--good ones, too. Study her as you would a refractory engine; if she runs off the track, or doesn't run at all, or has a hotbox or any other creature failing learn the cause and remedy it if you can. She is human, like yourself, and young too, probably, and needs diversion. Don't begrudge it to her when it is of the right kind. Like you, she needs rest occasionally, between whiles; make an opportunity for it. She needs good strengthening food; see that she has it, and if she prefers plain living and high thinking on bread and tea, that's her own lookout. She probably will have strong leanings toward the jam closet; lock the door and keep the key, and leave no money, jewelry, or other valuables carelessly about to tempt her, perhaps beyond her strength. Don't be overnice in your exactions; if she is even a fairly good cook, waitress, and laundress, you are indeed blessed among women. Give judicious praise or kindly criticism where due; sometimes a warning in time will save nine blunders. While she is under your roof and a member of your family you are in a measure responsible for her welfare, moral, spiritual, and physical, and are her natural and lawful protector. She may neither need nor want your protection, but let her feel that it is there, none the less. HOW TO SELECT A MAID And now, how shall we find this person to assist us in making domestic life "one grand, sweet song"--we hope! The usual way is to apply to a reputable agency where you will find the better class of girls and be dealt with honestly. An agency of this kind usually keeps on file the references of girls offering themselves for service, which will give you at least some idea of the qualifications of the maid you may engage. Many housekeepers advertise in the daily papers or trades journals, the advertisement being a concise statement of the location, whether city or country, the kind of service expected, and the wages paid. A third and usually most satisfactory way of obtaining help is through some friend, who can back her recommendation with a guarantee. Having entered your application, decide upon your plan of action in the interview which will take place when Dame Maid presents herself for the mutual inspection--mutual because, though 'tis not hers to "reason why," she has a perfect right to know what awaits her. This cross-examination is somewhat of an ordeal, especially to the novice in the servant-hiring business. It is essential for the housekeeper to know just what questions to put to the applicant, what questions to look for in return, what to tell her of the household regime and of her individual part in it; in short, she must know her ground and then stand on it--it is hardly necessary to add, with decision and dignity. The applicant's personal appearance tells something of what she is: if slovenly, her work would be ditto; if flashy, with cheap finery and gew-gaws--well, she may be honest and reliable, but she may also make it difficult for you to be mistress in your own house. Be a little wary of the middle-aged servant; if she is really desirable, she is not apt to be casting about for a position, and besides, she is usually "sot" in her ways. The fact of a girl's looking sullen or morose should not militate against her--she may be only shy or embarrassed. If she is impertinent--maybe her former mistress "talked back," or made too great an equal of her. Anyway, be your own ladylike self and she will probably fall in line. The quiet, steady-looking girl who evinces a willingness to learn is apt to be a safe investment. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Question her about her housework experience, her ability to do plain cooking and baking, make beds, serve, wash, and iron. She cannot possibly be an expert along each of these lines, perhaps not on one even, but a general working knowledge of all is very desirable. Have a complete understanding with her at the outset regarding her work, wages, hours of work and of leisure, and breakages. Don't try to put the best foot forward, though there is no particular harm in pointing out the special advantages she would enjoy in your home, but give her a frank and honest statement of what she may expect. If she asks you, as she no doubt will, if you have much company, say so, if you have, but add that you will relieve her as much as you can of the extra work entailed. And don't resent her asking about the size of your family, and about her room, for she would naturally be interested in both. A complete understanding at every point may save considerable future trouble. The question of a uniform may come up during your talk. Some girls absolutely refuse to don anything which looks to them like a badge of servitude; if this happens, let it go, because you know it is not an absolute essential. At the close of the conference ask for references. No mistress is obliged to give a reference to her departing servant, but if she does so it ought, in all conscience, to be an honest one. It is a deplorable fact that many housekeepers, either in a desire to be magnanimous, or to avoid a scene or annoyance, give utterly undeserved recommendations, thus opening the way for other reigns of terror which a little personal application of do-as-you-would-be-done-by could have prevented. Investigate these references, either in person or by letter; otherwise you may discover later on that they were forged by the girl herself or by some of her accommodating friends. AGREEMENTS The term of service is determined by an agreement between mistress and maid. The usual custom is to take the applicant for a week's trial; if, at the expiration of that time, both are satisfied, the arrangement continues from week to week, if the payments are weekly. In households in which monthly payments are preferred the maid is hired by the month. The agreement entered into is nothing more nor less than a legal contract, and not to be lightly violated. When serving by the week the maid is entitled to, and must also give, three days' notice; when by the month a week's notice is required, or if for any reason her mistress wishes her to leave at once, she may pay her one week's wages. If the maid leaves suddenly and without giving notice, in the middle of her term, she forfeits all claim to wages which have accrued since her last payment. If discharged unjustly and without sufficient cause before the expiration of her term, she is entitled to her wages in full; but if discharged without notice because of intoxication, immorality, dishonesty, arrant disobedience, or permanent incapacity from illness, she can claim nothing. It is customary with some housekeepers to start the new maid on a comparatively low salary, with the promise of an increase of perhaps fifty cents per month, in case she proves herself worthy, till the maximum is reached. This is often an incentive to good service. THE MAID'S LEISURE TIME Her times of leisure vary somewhat, according to circumstances; but one week-day afternoon and evening, and Sunday afternoon and evening of each week are usually allowed her, though she may be given only every other Sunday. If an extra evening can be given her, all well and good. The maid should be able to count on getting away at a certain hour so she can arrange to meet her friends; and she must also understand that ten o'clock is to see her in the house, that hour being as late as any girl ought to be out. In homes which employ two maids equal privileges are granted each, one assuming the work of the other during her absence. It is a simple matter to arrange for light meals on the cook's day out, and to minimize the serving when the waitress is to be away. When night dinner is the custom and but one maid employed, she either goes from ten until four, leaving her mistress to prepare luncheon, or else, if she is away over the dinner hour, the meals are shifted, with dinner at noon and tea at night. She leaves on Sunday immediately after the dinner work is done and does not return to prepare tea. If she prefers to spend her leisure time quietly at home reading or sewing, she should be encouraged to do so and not be forced to go out in self-defense to escape calls for extra work at that time. The mistress has no claim on her maid's "off" hours. DRESS AND PERSONAL NEATNESS The maid's uniform consists of three print gowns, with a gingham apron for morning wear, and for afternoons a white apron with white collar or kerchief and cuffs, cap, or whatever additional touches her mistress may prefer. The maid usually buys her own gowns, while her mistress provides the accessories, which remain her property when the maid leaves. The afternoon dress of one week becomes the morning dress of the following. Black is frequently adopted for afternoon wear, but whatever the dress, insist upon its being washable; woolens absorb odors and perspiration and in time make not only her person but her room offensive. Issue an edict against frowzy pompadours and "frizzes," pointing out the necessity for having smooth, neat hair, particularly in the kitchen. Require her to bathe regularly. The question of allowing the maid to use the bathroom must be settled individually. If she is careful about cleaning the tub and leaving things in good order, there seems to be no reason why she, who so needs them, should be deprived of advantages for cleanliness which the rest of us enjoy. "Standing on one foot in a slippery washbowl," footbath, or even larger tub, is a poor substitute. Instruct her about arranging her clothing at night so it will air. You may even find, if she is a just-over foreigner, that you will have to introduce her to the nightdress--such things have happened--explaining to her the undesirability of sleeping in underclothing which she has worn all day. CARELESSNESS If a girl is habitually careless about handling the dishes, and breaks, nicks, and cracks result, hold her responsible and deduct from her wages what you consider a fair equivalent for the loss. Such a course is astonishingly curative sometimes. The painstaking, careful girl seldom injures anything, and the occasional accident may be overlooked. Before your new maid arrives write out an itemized list of all crockery, silver, glass, and table linen which are to be in constant use, designating those which are defaced in any way, and go over it with her every week, holding her responsible for any damaged or missing articles. THE MAID'S ROOM Remove from the servant's room all traces of its last occupant, and put it in order for the new maid, with the bed freshly made up with clean blankets, linen, and spread. The room should be comfortably furnished with a single enameled bed--the plainer the better and more easily cleaned--an inexpensive dresser and washstand, the bowl, pitcher, etc., for the latter preferably of the white porcelain enamel ware, a comfortable high-backed rocker, and one common cane-seated chair. A pair of plain white muslin or scrim curtains draped back with a band of the same, and plain white covers on washstand and dresser impart a certain air of dainty hominess. A cheap set of hanging shelves for books and clock would be a welcome addition. Walls and floor should be painted, and a colonial rug placed before the bed. Don't give the servant's room the look of a perpetual rummage sale by making it a dumping ground for old defaced pictures, furniture, and bric-a-brac. Remember that it is her only haven of rest, and have it restful, if only for selfish reasons, for renewed bodily vigor means well-done work and a made-over disposition. When we think of the average servant's room, small, stuffy, poorly ventilated, hot in summer, cold in winter, and unattractive to a degree, it ought to bring a blush of shame. Above all, see that the bed is comfortable; for who can blame a tired girl for getting out on the "wrong side" of a bed so hard and lumpy that it surely must rise and smite her! Place on the woven wire spring a good mattress either all cotton, or of straw with cotton top and bottom. Over this spread one of the washable pads which come for the purpose, then the sheets--unbleached if one prefers--the inexpensive colored blankets, and a honeycomb spread. One feather pillow of average size will be sufficient. When two servants occupy a room two single beds should be provided. If there is no closet, make a temporary one by means of a shelf and curtain. An attractive room carries with it a subtle and refining influence. HOW TO TRAIN A MAID "Set thine house in order," and have everything--pantry and kitchen in particular--as you expect your maid to keep it. First impressions are truly the most lasting, and if she comes into a littered, soiled, untidy kingdom, you may expect her reign to be proportionally lax and her respect for your housekeeping abilities conspicuously absent. This is a bad beginning, and then it is not exactly fair to set her to work the very first thing to bring order from chaos. See that she has all the tools necessary to her work, replacing broken or useless utensils and assuring yourself that the cutlery and crockery for her individual table use are whole and inviting. Show the maid to her room as soon as she arrives, with instructions to don her working garb; and then begins the induction into office, a trying experience to you both, and one which should be sufficiently prolonged to enable her to get a good grip of each new duty as it presents itself. Avoid confusing her at the start with a jumble of instructions, but make haste slowly, giving directions in a way which she can understand. Introduce her into her workroom, explain the range and show her how to operate it, point out the different utensils and their uses and where foods are kept. If she comes in the morning, her first duty will be the preparation of luncheon; give her instructions for that meal, what to have, and how to set the table, this being the proper time to go over the list of table furnishings with her. Don't embarrass her by being continually at her heels, but give what directions you think necessary and then let her apply her judgment and previous experience to carrying them out. If you find that she has neither, don't be discouraged, for you may be entertaining an angel unawares, but adopt the line upon line, precept upon precept plan, and the situation will slowly but surely brighten. If she is overstupid in one direction, she may be bright enough in some other to establish a balance. Luncheon and its dishes disposed of, arrange with her about dinner, and after its completion speak about her hour of rising, the preparation of breakfast, etc. And the morning and the evening were the first day! THE DAILY ROUTINE The day's routine of work varies in different households and makes it impossible for one to offer an infallible system. The keeping of but one servant does not admit of an elaborate mode of living, and on the days on which the heaviest work--washing and ironing--falls, madam would do well to assume considerable of the regular work herself, the care of bedrooms, dusting and putting to rights of living and dining rooms, preparation of lunch, and whatever else seems best. All of the hardest work should be done in the morning, before the first freshness of maid and day is worn away. After you have established a satisfactory schedule abide by it and oblige your maid to do the same. It soon becomes automatic and is, therefore, accomplished with less exhaustion of mind and body. The regular day's work is about as follows: The maid rises an hour or an hour and a half before the breakfast hour, throws open her bed and window, and goes to the kitchen, where she starts the fire (if a coal range is used), fills and puts on the teakettle, and puts the cereal on to cook. Then she airs out dining and living rooms and hall, brushes up any litter, wipes off bare floors, dusts, closes windows, opens furnace drafts or looks after stoves, and, leaving tidiness in her wake, sets the table and completes the preparations for breakfast. The amount of work she can accomplish before it is served depends upon herself and upon how elaborate the meal may be. After the main part of the breakfast has been served she may be excused from the dining room, and takes this time to open bedroom windows and empty slops, after which she has her own breakfast. When the breakfast table has been cleared, the dining room set to rights, food taken care of, and utensils put to soak, the mistress inspects pantry and refrigerator, offers suggestions for the disposal of left-overs, arranges with the maid for the day's meals, and makes out the list for grocer and butcher, adding whatever she thinks best to the list of needed staples already prepared by the maid--tea, sugar, soap, etc. Never leave the entire ordering of supplies to the maid, her part being simply to jot down on a pad hung in the kitchen for that purpose a memorandum of such things as need replenishing. When the conference is ended the maid washes the dishes, puts kitchen and pantry in order, fills and cleans lamps, prepares dishes which require slow cooking, makes the beds--unless her mistress prefers to do this herself--and tidies up bed- and bathrooms. If the living rooms were not dusted before breakfast, she attends to it now, perhaps sweeping front porch and steps, and is then ready for the extra work of the day, the cleaning of silver, washing of windows, etc. When the after-lunch work is disposed of she will probably have an hour or two to herself before it is time to begin preparations for dinner. She should not be interrupted in her work for this, that, or the other, but allowed to go on with it according to schedule. She usually attends the door except on wash day or during extra stress of work. She will, perhaps, object to doing so when her mistress is at home, and may need instruction about slipping on a clean white apron, greeting a caller with civility, presenting a small tray for her card, etc. Initiating her into the mysteries of setting and serving the table may be a long operation, for the good waitress is usually born, not made. But don't be too exacting; remember that she is not a specialist and arrange the flowers and add other nice touches yourself, and dispense with elaborateness of serving. Teach her to economize time by washing dishes between courses when her presence is not required in the dining room, and insist upon having meals served at stated hours, being careful that your family respond to the summons to the table with corresponding punctuality. DUTIES OF COOK AND NURSE Each additional servant complicates the planning of the work. When there are two they are usually cook and waitress, the former having entire charge of her own special domain, the kitchen, with all that pertains to it, except, perhaps, the preparation of salads and the washing of glass, silver, and fine dishes. She does the heavier part of the laundry work and some part of the sweeping, washes windows, takes charge of cellar and pantry, or does such other work as her mistress designates, each duty being plainly specified at the time she is hired. The tasks of the waitress are more varied. The airing, brushing up, and dusting of the living rooms falls to her share, with the entire charge of the dining room, serving the table, and washing the dishes, glass, and silver. She also has charge of the bedrooms, a part of her duties in that connection being to prepare them for the night, removing spreads and shams, turning down covers, closing blinds, and carrying to each room iced water the last thing before retiring, and hot water the first thing in the morning. She attends the door, cleans silver, wipes off woodwork, and even helps with the mending when the family is small. She usually does her own washing, and assists with the ironing if her mistress so decree. The division of labor between cook and waitress is sometimes a delicate matter, and here more than ever is adherence to rule and routine imperative. The tendency for one servant to override the other and more yielding, must be guarded against. When a nurse is to be hired she should be questioned as to her experience in caring for children, and her cleanliness, honesty, truthfulness, morals, and general character carefully investigated. She ought to be fond of children, and young-hearted enough to enter into their little games and joys and sorrows. No maid whose example is demoralizing to the little ones should have any place in the home. The nurse probably will do the baby's washing, and may help a little here and there about the house, but as a rule she has nothing to do with the general work. SERVANT'S COMPANY The vexed question of the "lady help's gentleman company" usually has to be faced by the housekeeper. Since yours is your maid's only home it is better to allow her to receive her friends there than for her to seek them elsewhere, taking it for granted, of course, that any girl whom you would be willing to have in your family would have no objectionable friends. And besides, she is somebody's daughter, you know. It is to be hoped that the time will come when every maid can be provided with a sitting room of her own, but until then her friends will have to be received in your kitchen. Let her feel that they are welcome out of working hours. A servant of the right kind will appreciate and not abuse this privilege. And so on--and so on! After all is said and done one can only give a few hints and suggestions on the servant question, with the wistful hope that they may help some one to "start right," for maids may come and maids may go, but the problem goes marching on. The only way to do when it overtakes one is to grapple with it womanfully, for it _will_ happen, even in the best regulated families. THE END 
15360	----	THE EASIEST WAY IN HOUSEKEEPING AND COOKING. Adapted to Domestic Use or Study in Classes BY HELEN CAMPBELL, AUTHOR OF "IN FOREIGN KITCHENS," "MRS. HERNDON'S INCOME," "PRISONERS OF POVERTY,", "SOME PASSAGES IN THE PRACTICE OF DR. MARTHA SCARBOROUGH," "WOMEN WAGE-EARNERS," ETC., ETC. "If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly." BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 1903. _Copyright, 1893,_ BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. University Press: JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. A Book for Agnes L.V.W. AND THE SOUTHERN GIRLS WHO STUDIED WITH HER. PREFACE TO REVISED EDITION. The little book now revised and sent out with some slight additions, remains substantially the same as when first issued in 1880. In the midst of always increasing cookery-books, it has had a firm constituency of friends, especially in the South, where its necessity was first made plain. To enlarge it in any marked degree would violate the original plan, for which the critic will please read the pages headed "Introductory," where he or she will find full explanation of the growth and purpose of the book. Whoever desires more receipts and more elaborate forms of preparation must look for their sources in the bibliography at the end, since their introduction in these pages would practically nullify the title, proved true by years of testing at the hands of inexperienced housekeepers, whose warm words have long been very pleasant to the author of "The Easiest Way." NEW YORK, June, 1893. CONTENTS. PART FIRST. PAGE INTRODUCTORY 5 CHAPTER. I. THE HOUSE: SITUATION AND ARRANGEMENT 11 II. THE HOUSE: ITS VENTILATION 19 III. DRAINAGE AND WATER-SUPPLY 27 IV. THE DAY'S WORK 35 V. FIRES, LIGHTS, AND THINGS TO WORK WITH 45 VI. WASHING-DAY AND CLEANING IN GENERAL 54 VII. THE BODY AND ITS COMPOSITION 68 VIII. FOOD AND ITS LAWS 73 IX. THE RELATIONS OF FOOD TO HEALTH 80 X. THE CHEMISTRY OF ANIMAL FOOD 90 XI. THE CHEMISTRY OF VEGETABLE FOOD 100 XII. CONDIMENTS AND BEVERAGES 110 PART SECOND. STOCK AND SEASONING 119 SOUPS 122 FISH 131 MEATS 144 POULTRY 161 SAUCES AND SALADS 173 EGGS AND BREAKFAST DISHES 180 TEA, COFFEE, &C 193 VEGETABLES 197 BREAD AND BREAKFAST CAKES 208 CAKE 221 PASTRY AND PIES 232 PUDDINGS, BOILED AND BAKED 238 CUSTARDS, CREAMS, JELLIES, &C 245 CANNING AND PRESERVING 252 PICKLES AND CATCHUPS 257 CANDIES 259 SICK-ROOM COOKERY 261 HOUSEHOLD HINTS 270 HINTS TO TEACHERS 280 LESSONS FOR PRACTICE CLASS 282 TWENTY TOPICS FOR CLASS USE 285 LIST OF AUTHORITIES REFERRED TO 286 EXAMINATION QUESTIONS 287 BIBLIOGRAPHY 288 INDEX 289 _Introductory._ That room or toleration for another "cook-book" can exist in the public mind, will be denied at once, with all the vigor to be expected from a people overrun with cook-books, and only anxious to relegate the majority of them to their proper place as trunk-linings and kindling-material. The minority, admirable in plan and execution, and elaborate enough to serve all republican purposes, are surely sufficient for all the needs that have been or may be. With Mrs. Cornelius and Miss Parloa, Marion Harland and Mrs. Whitney, and innumerable other trustworthy authorities, for all every-day purposes, and Mrs. Henderson for such festivity as we may at times desire to make, another word is not only superfluous but absurd; in fact, an outrage on common sense, not for one instant to be justified. Such was my own attitude and such my language hardly a year ago; yet that short space of time has shown me, that, whether the public admit the claim, or no, one more cook-book MUST BE. And this is why:-- A year of somewhat exceptional experience--that involved in building up several cooking-schools in a new locality, demanding the most thorough and minute system to assure their success and permanence--showed the inadequacies of any existing hand-books, and the necessities to be met in making a new one. Thus the present book has a twofold character, and represents, not only the ordinary receipt or cook book, usable in any part of the country and covering all ordinary household needs, but covers the questions naturally arising in every lesson given, and ending in statements of the most necessary points in household science. There are large books designed to cover this ground, and excellent of their kind, but so cumbrous in form and execution as to daunt the average reader. Miss Corson's "Cooking-School Text-Book" commended itself for its admirable plainness and fullness of detail, but was almost at once found impracticable as a system for my purposes; her dishes usually requiring the choicest that the best city market could afford, and taking for granted also a taste for French flavorings not yet common outside of our large cities, and to no great extent within them. To utilize to the best advantage the food-resources of whatever spot one might be in, to give information on a hundred points suggested by each lesson, yet having no place in the ordinary cook-book, in short, _to teach household science as well as cooking_, became my year's work; and it is that year's work which is incorporated in these pages. Beginning with Raleigh, N.C., and lessons given in a large school there, it included also a seven-months' course at the Deaf and Dumb Institute, and regular classes for ladies. Straight through, in those classes, it became my business to say, "This is no infallible system, warranted to give the whole art of cooking in twelve lessons. All I can do for you is to lay down clearly certain fixed principles; to show you how to economize thoroughly, yet get a better result than by the expenditure of perhaps much more material. Before our course ends, you will have had performed before you every essential operation in cooking, and will know, so far as I can make you know, prices, qualities, constituents, and physiological effects of every type of food. Beyond this, the work lies in your own hands." Armed with manuals,--American, English, French,--bent upon systematizing the subject, yet finding none entirely adequate, gradually, and in spite of all effort to the contrary, I found that my teaching rested more and more on my own personal experience as a housekeeper, both at the South and at the North. The mass of material in many books was found confusing and paralyzing, choice seeming impossible when a dozen methods were given. And for the large proportion of receipts, directions were so vague that only a trained housekeeper could be certain of the order of combination, or results when combined. So from the crowd of authorities was gradually eliminated a foundation for work; and on that foundation has risen a structure designed to serve two ends. For the young housekeeper, beginning with little or no knowledge, but eager to do and know the right thing, not alone for kitchen but for the home as a whole, the list of topics touched upon in Part I. became essential. That much of the knowledge compressed there should have been gained at home, is at once admitted: but, unfortunately, few homes give it; and the aim has been to cover the ground concisely yet clearly and attractively. As to Part II., it does not profess to be the whole art of cooking, but merely the line of receipts most needed in the average family, North or South. Each receipt has been tested personally by the writer, often many times; and each one is given so minutely that failure is well-nigh impossible, if the directions are intelligently followed. A few distinctively Southern dishes are included, but the ground covered has drawn from all sources; the series of excellent and elaborate manuals by well-known authors having contributed here and there, but the majority of rules being, as before said, the result of years of personal experiment, or drawn from old family receipt-books. To facilitate the work of the teacher, however, a scheme of lessons is given at the end, covering all that can well be taught in the ordinary school year: each lesson is given with page references to the receipts employed, while a shorter and more compact course is outlined for the use of classes for ladies. A list of topics is also given for school use; it having been found to add greatly to the interest of the course to write each week the story of some ingredient in the lesson for the day, while a set of questions, to be used at periodical intervals, fixes details, and insures a certain knowledge of what progress has been made. The course covers the chemistry and physiology of food, as well as an outline of household science in general, and may serve as a text-book wherever such study is introduced. It is hoped that this presentation of the subject will lessen the labor necessary in this new field, though no text-book can fully take the place of personal enthusiastic work. That training is imperatively demanded for rich and poor alike, is now unquestioned; but the mere taking a course of cooking-lessons alone does not meet the need in full. The present book aims to fill a place hitherto unoccupied; and precisely the line of work indicated there has been found the only practical method in a year's successful organization of schools at various points. Whether used at home with growing girls, in cooking-clubs, in schools, or in private classes, it is hoped that the system outlined and the authorities referred to will stimulate interest, and open up a new field of work to many who have doubted if the food question had any interest beyond the day's need, and who have failed to see that nothing ministering to the best life and thought of this wonderful human body could ever by any chance be rightfully called "common or unclean." We are but on the threshold of the new science. If these pages make the way even a little plainer, the author will have accomplished her full purpose, and will know that in spite of appearances there is "room for one more." HELEN CAMPBELL. _THE EASIEST WAY._ CHAPTER I. THE HOUSE: SITUATION AND ARRANGEMENT. From the beginning it must be understood that what is written here applies chiefly to country homes. The general principles laid down are applicable with equal force to town or city life; but as a people we dwell mostly in the country, and, even in villages or small towns, each house is likely to have its own portion of land about it, and to look toward all points of the compass, instead of being limited to two, as in city blocks. Of the comparative advantages or disadvantages of city or country life, there is no need to speak here. Our business is simply to give such details as may apply to both, but chiefly to the owners of moderate incomes, or salaried people, whose expenditure must always be somewhat limited. With the exterior of such homes, women at present have very little to do; and the interior also is thus far much in the hands of architects, who decide for general prettiness of effect, rather than for the most convenient arrangement of space. The young bride, planning a home, is resolved upon a bay-window, as large a parlor as possible, and an effective spare-room; but, having in most cases no personal knowledge of work, does not consider whether kitchen and dining-room are conveniently planned, or not, and whether the arrangement of pantries and closets is such that both rooms must be crossed a hundred times a day, when a little foresight might have reduced the number certainly by one-half, perhaps more. Inconvenience can, in most cases, be remedied; but unhealthfulness or unwholesomeness of location, very seldom: and therefore, in the beginning, I write that ignorance is small excuse for error, and that every one able to read at all, or use common-sense about any detail of life, is able to form a judgment of what is healthful or unhealthful. If no books are at hand, consult the best physician near, and have his verdict as to the character of the spot in which more or less of your life in this world will be spent, and which has the power to affect not only your mental and bodily health, but that of your children. Because your fathers and mothers have been neglectful of these considerations, is no reason why you should continue in ignorance; and the first duty in making a home is to consider earnestly and intelligently certain points. Four essentials are to be thought of in the choice of any home; and their neglect, and the ignorance which is the foundation of this neglect, are the secret of not only the chronic ill-health supposed to be a necessity of the American organization, but of many of the epidemics and mysterious diseases classed under the head of "visitations of Providence." These essentials are: a wholesome situation, good ventilation, good drainage, and a dry cellar. Rich or poor, high or low, if one of these be disregarded, the result will tell, either on your own health or on that of your family. Whether palace or hut, brown-stone front or simple wooden cottage, the law is the same. As a rule, the ordinary town or village is built upon low land, because it is easier to obtain a water-supply from wells and springs. In such a case, even where the climate itself may be tolerably healthy, the drainage from the hills at hand, or the nearness of swamps and marshes produced by the same cause, makes a dry cellar an impossibility; and this shut-in and poisonous moisture makes malaria inevitable. The dwellers on low lands are the pill and patent-medicine takers; and no civilized country swallows the amount of tonics and bitters consumed by our own. If possible, let the house be on a hill, or at least a rise of ground, to secure the thorough draining-away of all sewage and waste water. Even in a swampy and malarious country, such a location will insure all the health possible in such a region, if the other conditions mentioned are faithfully attended to. Let the living-rooms and bedrooms, as far as may be, have full sunshine during a part of each day; and reserve the north side of the house for store-rooms, refrigerator, and the rooms seldom occupied. Do not allow trees to stand so near as to shut out air or sunlight; but see that, while near enough for beauty and for shade, they do not constantly shed moisture, and make twilight in your rooms even at mid-day. Sunshine is the enemy of disease, which thrives in darkness and shadow. Consumption or scrofulous disease is almost inevitable in the house shut in by trees, whose blinds are tightly closed lest some ray of sunshine fade the carpets; and over and over again it has been proved that the first conditions of health are, abundant supply of pure air, and free admission of sunlight to every nook and cranny. Even with imperfect or improper food, these two allies are strong enough to carry the day for health; and, when the three work in harmony, the best life is at once assured. If the house must be on the lowlands, seek a sandy or gravelly soil; and avoid those built over clay beds, or even where clay bottom is found under the sand or loam. In the last case, if drainage is understood, pipes may be so arranged as to secure against any standing water; but, unless this is done, the clammy moisture on walls, and the chill in every closed room, are sufficient indication that the conditions for disease are ripe or ripening. The only course in such case, after seeking proper drainage, is, first, abundant sunlight, and, second, open fires, which will act not only as drying agents, but as ventilators and purifiers. Aim to have at least one open fire in the house. It is not an extravagance, but an essential, and economy may better come in at some other place. Having settled these points as far as possible,--the question of water-supply and ventilation being left to another chapter,--it is to be remembered that the house is not merely a place to be made pleasant for one's friends. They form only a small portion of the daily life; and the first consideration should be: Is it so planned that the necessary and inevitable work of the day can be accomplished with the least expenditure of force? North and South, the kitchen is often the least-considered room of the house; and, so long as the necessary meals are served up, the difficulties that may have hedged about such serving are never counted. At the South it is doubly so, and necessarily; old conditions having made much consideration of convenience for servants an unthought-of thing. With a throng of unemployed women and children, the question could only be, how to secure some small portion of work for each one; and in such case, the greater the inconveniences, the more chance for such employment. Water could well be half a mile distant, when a dozen little darkies had nothing to do but form a running line between house and spring; and so with wood and kindling and all household necessities. To-day, with the old service done away with once for all, and with a set of new conditions governing every form of work, the Southern woman faces difficulties to which her Northern or Western sister is an utter stranger; faces them often with a patience and dignity beyond all praise, but still with a hopelessness of better things, the necessary fruit of ignorance. Old things are passed away, and the new order is yet too unfamiliar for rules to have formulated and settled in any routine of action. While there is, at the North, more intuitive and inherited sense of how things should be done, there is on many points an almost equal ignorance, more especially among the cultivated classes, who, more than at any period of woman's history, are at the mercy of their servants. Every science is learned but domestic science. The schools ignore it; and, indeed, in the rush toward an early graduation, there is small room for it. "She can learn at home," say the mothers. "She will take to it when her time comes, just as a duck takes to water," add the fathers; and the matter is thus dismissed as settled. In the mean time the "she" referred to--the average daughter of average parents in both city and country--neither "learns at home," nor "takes to it naturally," save in exceptional cases; and the reason for this is found in the love, which, like much of the love given, is really only a higher form of selfishness. The busy mother of a family, who has fought her own way to fairly successful administration, longs to spare her daughters the petty cares, the anxious planning, that have helped to eat out her own youth; and so the young girl enters married life with a vague sense of the dinners that must be, and a general belief that somehow or other they come of themselves. And so with all household labor. That to perform it successfully and skillfully, demands not only training, but the best powers one can bring to bear upon its accomplishment, seldom enters the mind; and the student, who has ended her course of chemistry or physiology enthusiastically, never dreams of applying either to every-day life. This may seem a digression; and yet, in the very outset, it is necessary to place this work upon the right footing, and to impress with all possible earnestness the fact, that Household Science holds every other science in tribute, and that only that home which starts with this admission and builds upon the best foundation the best that thought can furnish, has any right to the name of "home." The swarms of drunkards, of idiots, of insane, of deaf and dumb, owe their existence to an ignorance of the laws of right living, which is simply criminal, and for which we must be judged; and no word can be too earnest, which opens the young girl's eyes to the fact that in her hands lie not alone her own or her husband's future, but the future of the nation. It is hard to see beyond one's own circle; but if light is sought for, and there is steady resolve and patient effort to do the best for one's individual self, and those nearest one, it will be found that the shadow passes, and that progress is an appreciable thing. Begin in your own home. Study to make it not only beautiful, but perfectly appointed. If your own hands must do the work, learn every method of economizing time and strength. If you have servants, whether one or more, let the same laws rule. It is not easy, I admit; no good thing is: but there is infinite reward for every effort. Let no failure discourage, but let each one be only a fresh round in the ladder all must climb who would do worthy work; and be sure that the end will reward all pain, all self-sacrifice, and make you truly the mistresses of the home for which every woman naturally and rightfully hopes, but which is never truly hers till every shade of detail in its administration has been mastered. The house, then, is the first element of home to be considered and studied; and we have settled certain points as to location and arrangement. This is no hand-book of plans for houses, that ground being thoroughly covered in various books,--the titles of two or three of which are given in a list of reference-books at the end. But, whether you build or buy, see to it that your kitchens and working-rooms are well lighted, well aired, and of good size, and that in the arrangement of the kitchen especially, the utmost convenience becomes the chief end. Let sink, pantries, stove or range, and working-space for all operations in cooking, be close at hand. The difference between a pantry at the opposite end of the room, and one opening close to the sink, for instance, may seem a small matter; but when it comes to walking across the room with every dish that is washed, the steps soon count up as miles, and in making even a loaf of bread, the time and strength expended in gathering materials together would go far toward the thorough kneading, which, when added to the previous exertion, makes the whole operation, which might have been only a pleasure, a burden and an annoyance. Let, then, stove, fuel, water, work-table, and pantries be at the same end of the kitchen, and within a few steps of one another, and it will be found that while the general labor of each day must always be the same, the time required for its accomplishment will be far less, under these favorable conditions. The successful workman,--the type-setter, the cabinet-maker, or carpenter,--whose art lies in the rapid combination of materials, arranges his materials and tools so as to be used with the fewest possible movements; and the difference between a skilled and unskilled workman is not so much the rate of speed in movement, as in the ability to make each motion tell. The kitchen is the housekeeper's workshop; and, in the chapter on _House-work_, some further details as to methods and arrangements will be given. CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE: VENTILATION. Having settled the four requisites in any home, and suggested the points to be made in regard to the first one,--that of wholesome situation,--_Ventilation_ is next in order. Theoretically, each one of us who has studied either natural philosophy or physiology will state at once, with more or less glibness, the facts as to the atmosphere, its qualities, and the amount of air needed by each individual; practically nullifying such statement by going to bed in a room with closed windows and doors, or sitting calmly in church or public hall, breathing over and over again the air ejected from the lungs all about,--practice as cleanly and wholesome as partaking of food chewed over and over by an indiscriminate crowd. Now, as to find the Reason Why of all statements and operations is our first consideration, the familiar ground must be traversed again, and the properties and constituents of air find place here. It is an old story, and, like other old stories accepted by the multitude, has become almost of no effect; passive acceptance mentally, absolute rejection physically, seeming to be the portion of much of the gospel of health. "Cleanliness is next to godliness," is almost an axiom. I am disposed to amend it, and assert that cleanliness _is_ godliness, or a form of godliness. At any rate, the man or woman who demands cleanliness without and within, this cleanliness meaning pure air, pure water, pure food, must of necessity have a stronger body and therefore a clearer mind (both being nearer what God meant for body and mind) than the one who has cared little for law, and so lived oblivious to the consequences of breaking it. Ventilation, seemingly the simplest and easiest of things to be accomplished, has thus far apparently defied architects and engineers. Congress has spent a million in trying to give fresh air to the Senate and Representative Chambers, and will probably spend another before that is accomplished. In capitols, churches, and public halls of every sort, the same story holds. Women faint, men in courts of justice fall in apoplectic fits, or become victims of new and mysterious diseases, simply from the want of pure air. A constant slow murder goes on in nurseries and schoolrooms; and white-faced, nerveless children grow into white-faced and nerveless men and women, as the price of this violated law. What is this air, seemingly so hard to secure, so hard to hold as part of our daily life, without which we can not live, and which we yet contentedly poison nine times out of ten? Oxygen, nitrogen, carbonic acid, and watery vapor; the last two being a small portion of the bulk, oxygen and nitrogen making up four-fifths. Small as the proportion of oxygen seems, an increase of but one-fifth more would be destruction. It is the life-giver, but undiluted would be the life-destroyer; and the three-fifths of nitrogen act as its diluent. No other element possesses the same power. Fires and light-giving combustion could not exist an instant without oxygen. Its office seems that of universal destruction. By its action decay begins in meat or vegetables and fruits; and it is for this reason, that, to preserve them, all oxygen must be driven out by bringing them to the boiling point, and sealing them up in jars to which no air can find entrance. With only undiluted oxygen to breathe, the tissues would dry and shrivel, fuel burn with a fury none could withstand, and every operation of nature be conducted with such energy as soon to exhaust and destroy all power. But "a mixture of the fiery oxygen and inert nitrogen gives us the golden mean. The oxygen now quietly burns the fuel in our stoves, and keeps us warm; combines with the oil in our lamps, and gives us light; corrodes our bodies, and gives us strength; cleanses the air, and keeps it fresh and invigorating; sweetens foul water, and makes it wholesome; works all around us and within us a constant miracle, yet with such delicacy and quietness, we never perceive or think of it, until we see it with the eye of science." Food and air are the two means by which bodies live. In the full-grown man, whose weight will average about one hundred and fifty-four pounds, one hundred and eleven pounds is oxygen drawn from the air we breathe. Only when food has been dissolved in the stomach, absorbed at last into the blood, and by means of circulation brought into contact with the oxygen of the air taken into our lungs, can it begin to really feed and nourish the body; so that the lungs may, after all, be regarded as the true stomach, the other being not much more than the food-receptacle. Take these lungs, made up within of branching tubes, these in turn formed by myriads of air-cells, and each air-cell owning its network of minute cells called _capillaries_. To every air-cell is given a blood-vessel bringing blood from the heart, which finds its way through every capillary till it reaches another blood-vessel that carries it back to the heart. It leaves the heart charged with carbonic acid and watery vapor. It returns, if pure air has met it in the lung, with all corruption destroyed, a dancing particle of life. But to be life, and not slow death, thirty-three hogsheads of air must pass daily into the lungs, and twenty-eight pounds of blood journey from heart to lungs and back again three times in each hour. It rests wholly with ourselves, whether this wonderful tide, ebbing and flowing with every breath, shall exchange its poisonous and clogging carbonic acid and watery vapor for life-giving oxygen, or retain it to weigh down and debilitate every nerve in the body. With every thought and feeling some actual particles of brain and nerve are dissolved, and sent floating on this crimson current. With every motion of a muscle, whether great or small, with every process that can take place in the body, this ceaseless change of particles is going on. Wherever oxygen finds admission, its union with carbon to form carbonic acid, or with hydrogen to form water, produces heat. The waste of the body is literally burned up by the oxygen; and it is this burning which means the warmth of a living body, its absence giving the stony cold of the dead. "Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" may well be the literal question for each day of our lives; and "pure air" alone can secure genuine life. Breathing bad air reduces all the processes of the body, lessens vitality; and thus, one in poor health will suffer more from bad air than those who have become thoroughly accustomed to it. If weakened vitality were the only result, it would not be so serious a matter; but scrofula is soon fixed upon such constitutions, beginning with its milder form as in consumption, but ending in the absolute rottenness of bone and tissue. The invalid may live in the healthiest climate, pass hours each day in the open air, and yet undo or neutralize much of the good of this by sleeping in an unventilated room at night. Diseased joints, horrible affections of the eye or ear or skin, are inevitable. The greatest living authorities on lung-diseases pronounce deficient ventilation the chief cause of consumption, and more fatal _than all other causes put together_; and, even where food and clothing are both unwholesome, free air has been found able to counteract their effect. In the country the balance ordained in nature has its compensating power. The poisonous carbonic acid thrown off by lungs and body is absorbed by vegetation whose food it is, and which in every waving leaf or blade of grass returns to us the oxygen we demand. Shut in a close room all day, or even in a tolerably ventilated one, there may be no sense of closeness; but go to the open air for a moment, and, if the nose has not been hopelessly ruined by want of education, it will tell unerringly the degree of oxygen wanting and required. It is ordinarily supposed that carbonic-acid gas, being heavier, sinks to the bottom of the room, and that thus trundle-beds, for instance, are especially unwholesome. This would be so, were the gas pure. As a matter of fact, however, being warmed in the body, and thus made lighter, it rises into the common air, so that usually more will be found at the top than at the bottom of a room. This gas is, however, not the sole cause of disease. From both lungs and skin, matter is constantly thrown off, and floats in the form of germs in all impure air. To a person who by long confinement to close rooms has become so sensitive that any sudden current of air gives a cold, ventilation seems an impossibility and a cruelty; and the problem becomes: How to admit pure air throughout the house, and yet avoid currents and draughts. "Night-air" is even more dreaded than the confined air of rooms; yet, as the only air to be had at night must come under this head, it is safer to breathe that than to settle upon carbonic acid as lung-food for a third, at least, of the twenty-four hours. As fires feed on oxygen, it follows that every lamp, every gas-jet, every furnace, are so many appetites satisfying themselves upon our store of food, and that, if they are burning about us, a double amount of oxygen must be furnished. The only mode of ventilation that will work always and without fail is that of a warm-air flue, the upward heated air-current of which draws off the foul gases from the room: this, supplemented by an opening on the opposite side of the room for the admission of pure air, will accomplish the desired end. An open fire-place will secure this, provided the flue is kept warm by heat from the kitchen fire, or some other during seasons when the fire-place is not used. But perhaps the simplest way is to have ample openings (from eight to twelve inches square) at the top and bottom of each room, opening into the chimney-flue: then, even if a stove is used, the flue can be kept heated by the extension of the stove-pipe some distance up within the chimney, and the ascending current of hot air will draw the foul air from the room into the flue. This, as before stated, must be completed by a fresh-air opening into the room on another side: if no other can be had, the top of the window may be lowered a little. The stove-pipe _extension_ within the chimney would better be of cast-iron, as more durable than the sheet-iron. When no fire is used in the sleeping-rooms, the chimney-flue must be heated by pipes from the kitchen or other fires; and, with the provision for _fresh_ air never forgotten, this simple device will invariably secure pure and well-oxygenated air for breathing. "Fussy and expensive," may be the comment; but the expense is less than the average yearly doctor's bill, and the fussiness nothing that your own hands must engage in. Only let heads take it in, and see to it that no neglect is allowed. In a southern climate doors and windows are of necessity open more constantly; but at night they are closed from the fear referred to, that night-air holds some subtle poison. It is merely colder, and perhaps moister, than day-air; and an extra bed-covering neutralizes this danger. Once accustomed to sleeping with open windows, you will find that taking cold is impossible. If custom, or great delicacy of organization, makes unusual sensitiveness to cold, have a board the precise width of the window, and five or six inches high. Then raise the lower sash, putting this under it; and an upward current of air will be created, which will in great part purify the room. Beyond every thing, watch that no causes producing foul air are allowed to exist for a moment. A vase of neglected flowers will poison the air of a whole room. In the area or cellar, a decaying head of cabbage, a basket of refuse vegetables, a forgotten barrel of pork or beef brine, a neglected garbage pail or box, are all premiums upon disease. Let air and sunlight search every corner of the house. Insist upon as nearly spotless _cleanliness_ as may be, and the second prime necessity of the home is secure. When, as it is written, man was formed from the dust of the earth, the Lord God "breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a _living soul_." Shut off that breath of life, or poison it as it is daily poisoned, and not only body, but soul, dies. The child, fresh from its long day out of doors, goes to bed quiet, content, and happy. It wakes up a little demon, bristling with crossness, and determined not to "be good." The breath of life carefully shut out, death has begun its work, and you are responsible. And the same criminal blunder causes not only the child's suffering, but also the weakness which makes many a delicate woman complain that it "takes till noon to get her strength up." Open the windows. Take the portion to which you were born, and life will grow easier. CHAPTER III. DRAINAGE AND WATER-SUPPLY. Air and sunshine having been assured for all parts of the house in daily use, the next question must be an unfailing and full supply of pure water. "Dig a well, or build near a spring," say the builders; and the well is dug, or the spring tapped, under the general supposition that water is clean and pure, simply because it is water, while the surroundings of either spring or well are unnoticed. Drainage is so comparatively new a question, that only the most enlightened portions of the country consider its bearings; and the large majority of people all over the land not only do not know the interests involved in it, but would resent as a personal slight any hint that their own water-supply might be affected by deficient drainage. Pure water is simply oxygen and hydrogen, eight-ninths being oxygen and but one-ninth hydrogen; the latter gas, if pure, having, like oxygen, neither taste nor smell. Rain-water is the purest type; and, if collected in open vessels as it falls, is necessarily free from any possible taint (except at the very first of a rain, when it washes down considerable floating impurity from the atmosphere, especially in cities). This mode being for obvious reasons impracticable, cisterns are made, and rain conducted to them through pipes leading from the roof. The water has thus taken up all the dust, soot, and other impurities found upon the roof, and, unless filtered, can not be considered desirable drink. The best cistern will include a filter of some sort, and this is accomplished in two ways. Either the cistern is divided into two parts, the water being received on one side, and allowed to slowly filter through a wall of porous brick, regarded by many as an amply sufficient means of purification; or a more elaborate form is used, the division in such case being into upper and under compartments, the upper one containing the usual filter of iron, charcoal, sponge, and gravel or sand. If this water has a free current of air passing over it, it will acquire more sparkle and character; but as a rule it is flat and unpleasant in flavor, being entirely destitute of the earthy salts and the carbonic-acid gas to be found in the best river or spring water. Distilled water comes next in purity, and is, in fact, identical in character with rain-water; the latter being merely steam, condensed into rain in the great alembic of the sky. But both have the curious property of taking up and dissolving _lead_ wherever they find it; and it is for this reason that lead pipes as leaders from or to cisterns should _never_ be allowed, unless lined with some other metal. The most refreshing as well as most wholesome water is river or spring water, perfectly filtered so that no possible impurity can remain. It is then soft and clear; has sufficient air and carbonic acid to make it refreshing, and enough earthy salts to prevent its taking up lead, and so becoming poisonous. River-water for daily use of course requires a system of pipes, and in small places is practically unavailable; so that wells are likely, in such case, to be the chief source of supply. Such water will of course be spring-water, with the characteristics of the soil through which it rises. If the well be shallow, and fed by surface springs, all impurities of the soil will be found in it; and thus to _dig deep_ becomes essential, for many reasons. Dr. Parker of England, in some papers on practical hygiene, gives a clear and easily understood statement of some causes affecting the purity of well-water. "A well drains an extent of ground around it, in the shape of an inverted cone, which is in proportion to its own depth and the looseness of the soil. In very loose soils a well of sixty or eighty feet will drain a large area, perhaps as much as two hundred feet in diameter, or even more; but the exact amount is not, as far as I know, precisely determined. "Certain trades pour their refuse water into rivers, gas-works; slaughter-houses; tripe-houses; size, horn, and isinglass manufactories; wash-houses, starch-works, and calico-printers, and many others. In houses it is astonishing how many instances occur of the water of butts, cisterns, and tanks, getting contaminated by leaking of pipes and other causes, such as the passage of sewer-gas through overflow-pipes, &c. "As there is now no doubt that typhoid-fever, cholera, and dysentery may be caused by water rendered impure by the evacuations passed in those diseases, and as simple diarrhoea seems also to be largely caused by animal organic [matter in] suspension or solution, it is evident how necessary it is to be quick-sighted in regard to the possible impurity of water from incidental causes of this kind. Therefore all tanks and cisterns should be inspected regularly, and any accidental source of impurity must be looked out for. Wells should be covered; a good coping put round to prevent substances being washed down; the distances from cess-pools and dung-heaps should be carefully noted; no sewer should be allowed to pass near a well. The same precautions should be taken with springs. In the case of rivers, we must consider if contamination can result from the discharge of fecal matters, trade refuse, &c." Now, suppose all such precautions have been disregarded. Suppose, as is most usual, that the well is dug near the kitchen-door,--probably between kitchen and barn; the drain, if there is a drain from the kitchen, pouring out the dirty water of wash-day and all other days, which sinks through the ground, and acts as feeder to the waiting well. Suppose the manure-pile in the barnyard also sends down its supply, and the privies contribute theirs. The water may be unchanged in color or odor: yet none the less you are drinking a foul and horrible poison; slow in action, it is true, but making you ready for diphtheria and typhoid-fever, and consumption, and other nameless ills. It is so easy to doubt or set aside all this, that I give one case as illustration and warning of all the evils enumerated above. The State Board of Health for Massachusetts has long busied itself with researches on all these points, and the case mentioned is in one of their reports. The house described is one in Hadley, built by a clergyman. "It was provided with an open well and sink-drain, with its deposit-box in close proximity thereto, affording facility to discharge its gases in the well as the most convenient place. The cellar was used, as country cellars commonly are, for the storage of provisions of every kind, and the windows were never opened. The only escape for the soil-moisture and ground-air, except that which was absorbed by the drinking-water, was through the crevices of the floors into the rooms above. After a few months' residence in the house, the clergyman's wife died of fever. He soon married again; and the second wife also died of fever, within a year from the time of marriage. His children were sick. He occupied the house about two years. The wife of his successor was soon taken ill, and barely escaped with her life. A physician then took the house. He married, and his wife soon after died of fever. Another physician took the house, and within a few months came near dying of erysipelas. He deserved it. The house, meanwhile, received no treatment; the doctors, according to their usual wont, even in their own families, were satisfied to deal with the consequences, and leave the causes to do their worst. "Next after the doctors, a school-teacher took the house, and made a few changes, for convenience apparently, for substantially it remained the same; for he, too, escaped as by the skin of his teeth. Finally, after the foreclosure of many lives, the sickness and fatality of the property became so marked, that it became unsalable. When at last sold, every sort of prediction was made as to the risk of occupancy; but, by a thorough attention to sanitary conditions, no such risks have been encountered." These deaths were suicides,--ignorant ones, it is true, not one stopping to think what causes lay at the bottom of such "mysterious dispensations." But, just as surely as corn gives a crop from the seed sown, so surely typhoid fever and diphtheria follow bad drainage or the drinking of impure water. Boiling such water destroys the germs of disease; but neither boiled water nor boiled germs are pleasant drinking. If means are too narrow to admit of the expense attendant upon making a drain long enough and tight enough to carry off all refuse water to a safe distance from the house, then adopt another plan. Remember that to throw dirty water on the ground near a well, is as deliberate poisoning as if you threw arsenic in the well itself. Have a large tub or barrel standing on a wheelbarrow or small hand-cart; and into this pour every drop of dirty water, wheeling it away to orchard or garden, where it will enrich the soil, which will transform it, and return it to you, not in disease, but in fruit and vegetables. Also see that the well has a roof, and, if possible, a lattice-work about it, that all leaves and flying dirt may be prevented from falling into it. You do not want your water to be a solution or tincture of dead leaves, dead frogs and insects, or stray mice or kittens; and this it must be, now and again, if not covered sufficiently to exclude such chances, _though not the air_, which must be given free access to it. As to hard and soft water, the latter is always most desirable, as soft water extracts the flavor of tea and coffee far better than hard, and is also better for all cooking and washing purposes. Hard water results from a superabundance of lime; and this lime "cakes" on the bottom of tea-kettles, curdles soap, and clings to every thing boiled in it, from clothes to meat and vegetables (which last are always more tender if cooked in soft water; though, if it be too soft, they are apt to boil to a porridge). Washing-soda or borax will soften hard water, and make it better for all household purposes; but rain-water, even if not desired for drinking, will be found better than any softened by artificial means. If, as in many towns, the supply of drinking-water for many families comes from the town pump or pumps, the same principles must be attended to. A well in Golden Square, London, was noted for its especially bright and sparkling water, so much so that people sent from long distances to secure it. The cholera broke out; and all who drank from the well became its victims, though the square seemed a healthy location. Analysis showed it to be not only alive with a species of fungus growing in it, but also weighted with dead organic matter from a neighboring churchyard. Every tissue in the living bodies which had absorbed this water was inflamed, and ready to yield to the first epidemic; and cholera was the natural outcome of such conditions. Knowledge should guard against any such chances. See to it that no open cesspool poisons either air or water about your home. Sunk at a proper distance from the house, and connected with it by a drain so tightly put together that none of the contents can escape, the cesspool, which may be an elaborate, brick-lined cistern, or merely an old hogshead thoroughly tarred within and without, and sunk in the ground, becomes one of the most important adjuncts of a good garden. If, in addition to this, a pile of all the decaying vegetable matter--leaves, weeds, &c.--is made, all dead cats, hens, or puppies finding burial there; and the whole closely covered with earth to absorb, as fresh earth has the power to do, all foul gases and vapors; and if at intervals the pile is wet through with liquid from the cesspool, the richest form of fertilizer is secured, and one of the great agricultural duties of man fulfilled,--that of "returning to the soil, as fertilizers, all the salts produced by the combustion of food in the human body." Where the water-supply is brought into the house from a common reservoir, much the same rules hold good. We can not of course control the character of the general supply, but we can see to it that our own water and waste pipes are in the most perfect condition; that traps and all the best methods of preventing the escape of sewer-gas into our houses are provided; that stationary or "set" basins have the plug always in them; and that every water-closet is provided with a ventilating pipe sufficiently high and long to insure the full escape of all gases from the house. Simple disinfectants used from time to time--chloride of lime and carbolic acid--will be found useful, and the most absolute cleanliness is at all times the first essential. With air and water at their best, the home has a reasonable chance of escaping many of the sorrows brought by disease or uncertain health; and, the power to work to the best advantage being secured, we may now pass to the forms that work must take. CHAPTER IV. THE DAY'S WORK. It is safe to say that no class of women in the civilized world is subjected to such incessant trials of temper, and such temptation to be fretful, as the American housekeeper. The reasons for this state of things are legion; and, if in the beginning we take ground from which the whole field may be clearly surveyed, we may be able to secure a better understanding of what housekeeping means, and to guard against some of the dangers accompanying it. The first difficulty lies in taking for granted that successful housekeeping is as much an instinct as that which leads the young bird to nest-building, and that no specific training is required. The man who undertakes a business, passes always through some form of apprenticeship, and must know every detail involved in the management; but to the large proportion of women, housekeeping is a combination of accidental forces from whose working it is hoped breakfasts and dinners and suppers will be evolved at regular periods, other necessities finding place where they can. The new home, prettily furnished, seems a lovely toy, and is surrounded by a halo, which, as facts assert themselves, quickly fades away. Moth and rust and dust invade the most secret recesses. Breakage and general disaster attend the progress of Bridget or Chloe. The kitchen seems the headquarters of extraordinary smells, and the stove an abyss in its consumption of coal or wood. Food is wasted by bad cooking, or ignorance as to needed amounts, or methods of using left-over portions; and, as bills pile up, a hopeless discouragement often settles upon both wife and husband, and reproaches and bitterness and alienation are guests in the home, to which they need never have come had a little knowledge barred them out. In the beginning, then, be sure of one thing,--that all the wisdom you have or can acquire, all the patience and tact and self-denial you can make yours by the most diligent effort, will be needed every day and every hour of the day. Details are in themselves wearying, and to most men their relation to housekeeping is unaccountable. The day's work of a systematic housekeeper would confound the best-trained man of business. In the woman's hand is the key to home-happiness, but it is folly to assert that all lies with her. Let it be felt from the beginning that her station is a difficult one, that her duties are important, and that judgment and skill must guide their performance; let boys be taught the honor that lies in such duties,--and there will be fewer heedless and unappreciative husbands. On the other hand, let the woman remember that the good general does not waste words on hindrances, or leave his weak spots open to observation, but, learning from every failure or defeat, goes on steadily to victory. To fret will never mend a matter; and "Study to be quiet" in thought, word, and action, is the first law of successful housekeeping. Never under-estimate the difficulties to be met, for this is as much an evil as over-apprehension. The best-arranged plans may be overturned at a moment's notice. In a mixed family, habits and pursuits differ so widely that the housekeeper must hold herself in readiness to find her most cherished schemes set aside. Absolute adherence to a system is only profitable so far as the greatest comfort and well-being of the family are affected; and, dear as a fixed routine may be to the housekeeper's mind, it may often well be sacrificed to the general pleasure or comfort. A quiet, controlled mind, a soft voice, no matter what the provocation to raise it may be, is "an excellent thing in woman." And the certainty that, hard as such control may be, it holds the promise of the best and fullest life here and hereafter, is a motive strong enough, one would think, to insure its adoption. Progress may be slow, but the reward for every step forward is certain. We have already found that each day has its fixed routine, and are ready now to take up the order of work, which will be the same in degree whether one servant is kept, or many, or none. The latter state of things will often happen in the present uncertain character of household service. Old family servants are becoming more and more rare; and, unless the new generation is wisely trained, we run the risk of being even more at their mercy in the future than in the past. First, then, on rising in the morning, see that a full current of air can pass through every sleeping-room; remove all clothes from the beds, and allow them to air at least an hour. Only in this way can we be sure that the impurities, thrown off from even the cleanest body by the pores during the night, are carried off. A neat housekeeper is often tempted to make beds, or have them made, almost at once; but no practice can be more unwholesome. While beds and bedrooms are airing, breakfast is to be made ready, the table set, and kitchen and dining-room put in order. The kitchen-fire must first be built. If a gas or oil stove can be used, the operations are all simpler. If not, it is always best to have dumped the grate the night before if coal is used, and to have laid the fire ready for lighting. In the morning brush off all ashes, and wipe or blacken the stove. Strong, thick gloves, and a neat box for brushes, blacking, &c., will make this a much less disagreeable operation than it sounds. Rinse out the tea-kettle, fill it with fresh water, and put over to boil. Then remove the ashes, and, if coal is used, sift them, as cinders can be burned a large part of the time where only a moderate fire is desired. The table can be set, and the dining or sitting room swept, or merely brushed up and dusted, in the intervals of getting breakfast. To have every thing clean, hot, and not only well prepared but ready on time, is the first law, not only for breakfast, but for every other meal. After breakfast comes the dish-washing, dreaded by all beginners, but needlessly so. With a full supply of all conveniences,--plenty of soap and sapolio, which is far better and cleaner to use than either sand or ashes; with clean, soft towels for glass and silver; a mop, the use of which not only saves the hands but enables you to have hotter water; and a full supply of coarser towels for the heavier dishes,--the work can go on swiftly. Let the dish-pan be half full of hot soap and water. _Wash glass first_, paying no attention to the old saying that "hot water rots glass." Be careful never to put glass into hot water, bottom first, as the sudden expansion may crack it. Slip it in edgeways, and the finest and most delicate cut-glass will be safe. _Wash silver next._ Hot suds, and instant wiping on dry soft cloths, will retain the brightness of silver, which treated in this way requires much less polishing, and therefore lasts longer. If any pieces require rubbing, use a little whiting made into a paste, and put on wet. Let it dry, and then polish with a chamois-skin. Once a month will be sufficient for rubbing silver, if it is properly washed. _China comes next_--all plates having been carefully scraped, and all cups rinsed out. To fill the pan with unscraped and unrinsed dishes, and pour half-warm water over the whole, is a method too often adopted; and the results are found in sticky dishes and lustreless silver. Put all china, silver, and glass in their places as soon as washed. Then take any tin or iron pans, wash, wipe with a dry towel, and put near the fire to dry thoroughly. A knitting-needle or skewer may be kept to dig out corners unreachable by dishcloth or towel, and if perfectly dried they will remain free from rust. The cooking-dishes, saucepans, &c., come next in order; and here the wire dish-cloth will be found useful, as it does not scratch, yet answers every purpose of a knife. Every pot, kettle, and saucepan must be put into the pan of hot water. If very greasy, it is well to allow them to stand partly full of water in which a few drops of ammonia have been put. The _outside must be washed_ as carefully as the inside. Till this is done, there will always be complaint of the unpleasantness of handling cooking-utensils. Properly done, they are as clean as the china or glass. Plated knives save much work. If steel ones are used, they must be polished after every meal. In washing them, see that the handles are never allowed to touch the water. Ivory discolors and cracks if wet. Bristol-brick finely powdered is the best polisher, and, mixed with a little water, can be applied with a large cork. A regular knife-board, or a small board on which you can nail three strips of wood in box form, will give you the best mode of keeping brick and cork in place. After rubbing, wash clean, and wipe dry. The dish-towels are the next consideration. A set should be used but a week, and must be washed and rinsed each day if you would not have the flavor of dried-in dish-water left on your dishes. Dry them, if possible, in the open air: if not, have a rack, and stand them near the fire. On washing-days, let those that have been used a week have a thorough boiling. The close, sour smell that all housekeepers have noticed about dish-towels comes from want of boiling and drying in fresh air, and is unpardonable and unnecessary. Keep hot water constantly in your kettles or water-pots, by always remembering to fill with cold when you take out hot. Put away every article carefully in its place. If tables are stained, and require any scrubbing, remember that to wash or scrub wood you must follow the grain, as rubbing across it rubs the dirt in instead of taking it off. The same rule applies to floors. A clean, coarse cloth, hot suds, and a good scrubbing-brush, will simplify the operation. Wash off the table; then dip the brush in the suds, and scour with the grain of the wood. Finally wash off all soapy water, and wipe dry. To save strength, the table on which dishes are washed may be covered with kitchen oilcloth, which will merely require washing and wiping; with an occasional scrubbing for the table below. The table must be cleaned as soon as the dishes are washed, because if dishes stand upon tables the fragments of food have time to harden, and the washing is made doubly hard. Leaving the kitchen in order, the bedrooms will come next. Turn the mattresses daily, and make the bed smoothly and carefully. Put the under sheet with the wrong side next the bed, and the upper one with the marked end always at the top, to avoid the part where the feet lie, from being reversed and so reaching the face. The sheets should be large enough to tuck in thoroughly, three yards long by two and a half wide being none too large for a double bed. Pillows should be beaten and then smoothed with the hand, and the aim be to have an even, unwrinkled surface. As to the use of shams, whether sheet or pillow, it is a matter of taste; but in all cases, covered or uncovered, let the bed-linen be daintily clean. Empty all slops, and with hot water wash out all the bowls, pitchers, &c., using separate cloths for these purposes, and never toilet towels. Dust the room, arrange every thing in place, and, if in summer, close the blinds, and darken till evening, that it may be as cool as possible. Sweeping days for bedrooms need come but once a week, but all rooms used by many people require daily sweeping; halls, passages, and dining and sitting rooms coming under this head. Careful dusting daily will often do away with the need of frequent sweeping, which wears out carpets unnecessarily. A carpet-sweeper is a real economy, both in time and strength; but, if not obtainable, a light broom carefully handled, not with a long stroke which sends clouds of dust over every thing, but with a short quick one, which only experience can give, is next best. For a thorough sweeping, remove as many articles from the room as possible, dusting each one thoroughly, and cover the larger ones which must remain with old sheets or large squares of common unbleached cotton cloth, kept for this purpose. If the furniture is rep or woolen of any description, dust about each button, that no moth may find lodgment, and then cover closely. A feather duster, long or short, as usually applied, is the enemy of cleanliness. Its only legitimate use is for the tops of pictures or books and ornaments; and such dusting should be done _before_ the room is swept, as well as afterward, the first one removing the heaviest coating, which would otherwise be distributed over the room. For piano, and furniture of delicate woods generally, old silk handkerchiefs make the best dusters. For all ordinary purposes, squares of old cambric, hemmed, and washed when necessary, will be found best. Insist upon their being kept for this purpose, and forbid the use of toilet towels, always a temptation to the average servant. Remember that in dusting, the process should be a _wiping_; not a flirting of the cloth, which simply sends the dust up into the air to settle down again about where it was before. If moldings and wash-boards or wainscotings are wiped off with a damp cloth, one fruitful source of dust will be avoided. For all intricate work like the legs of pianos, carved backs of furniture, &c., a pair of small bellows will be found most efficient. Brooms, dust-pan, and brushes long and short, whisk-broom, feather and other dusters, should have one fixed place, and be returned to it after every using. If oil-cloth is on halls or passages, it should be washed weekly with warm milk and water, a quart of skim-milk to a pail of water being sufficient. Never use soap or scrubbing-brush, as they destroy both color and texture. All brass or silver-plated work about fire-place, doorknobs, or bath-room faucets, should be cleaned once a week and before sweeping. For silver, rub first with powdered whiting moistened with a little alcohol or hot water. Let it dry on, and then polish with a dry chamois-skin. If there is any intricate work, use a small toothbrush. Whiting, silver-soap, cloths, chamois, and brushes should all be kept in a box together. In another may be the rotten-stone necessary for cleaning brass, a small bottle of oil, and some woolen cloths. Old merino or flannel under-wear makes excellent rubbing-cloths. Mix the rotten-stone with enough oil to make a paste; rub on with one cloth, and polish with another. Thick gloves can be worn, and all staining of the hands avoided. The bedrooms and the necessary daily sweeping finished, a look into cellar and store-rooms is next in order,--in the former, to see that no decaying vegetable matter is allowed to accumulate; in the latter, that bread-jar or boxes are dry and sweet, and all stores in good condition. Where there are servants, it should be understood that the mistress makes this daily progress. Fifteen minutes or half an hour will often cover the time consumed; but it should be a fixed duty never omitted. A look into the refrigerator or meat-safe to note what is left and suggest the best use for it; a glance at towels and dish-cloths to see that all are clean and sweet, and another under all sinks and into each pantry,--will prevent the accumulation of bones and stray bits of food and dirty rags, the paradise of the cockroach, and delight of mice and rats. A servant, if honest, will soon welcome such investigation, and respect her mistress the more for insisting upon it, and, if not, may better find other quarters. One strong temptation to dishonesty is removed where such inspection is certain, and the weekly bills will be less than in the house where matters are left to take care of themselves. The preparation of dinner if at or near the middle of the day, and the dish-washing which follows, end the heaviest portion of the day's work; and the same order must be followed. Only an outline can be given; each family demanding variations in detail, and each head of a family in time building up her own system. Remember, however, that, if but one servant is kept, she can not do every thing, and that your own brain must constantly supplement her deficiencies, until training and long practice have made your methods familiar. Even then she is likely at any moment to leave, and the battle to begin over again; and the only safeguard in time of such disaster is personal knowledge as to simplest methods of doing the work, and inexhaustible patience in training the next applicant, finding comfort in the thought, that, if your own home has lost, that of some one else is by so much the gainer. CHAPTER V. FIRES, LIGHTS, AND THINGS TO WORK WITH. The popular idea of a fire to cook by seems to be, a red-hot top, the cover of every pot and saucepan dancing over the bubbling, heaving contents, and coal packed in even with the covers. Try to convince a servant that the lid need not hop to assure boiling, nor the fire rise above the fire-box, and there is a profound skepticism, which, even if not expressed, finds vent in the same amount of fuel and the same general course of action as before the remonstrance. The modern stove has brought simplicity of working, and yet the highest point of convenience, nearly to perfection. With full faith that the fuel of the future will be gas, its use is as yet, for many reasons, very limited; the cost of gas in our smaller cities and towns preventing its adoption by any but the wealthy, who are really in least need of it. With the best gas-stoves, a large part of the disagreeable in cooking is done away. No flying ashes, no cinders, no uneven heat, affected by every change of wind, but a steady flame, regulated to any desired point, and, when used, requiring only a turn of the hand to end the operation. Ranges set in a solid brick-work are considered the best form of cooking-apparatus; but there are some serious objections to their use, the first being the large amount of fuel required, and then the intense heat thrown out. Even with water in the house, they are not a necessity. A water-back, fully as effectual as the range water-back, can be set in any good stove, and connected with a boiler, large or small, according to the size of the stove; and for such stove, if properly managed, only about half the amount of coal will be needed. Fix thoroughly in your minds the directions for making and keeping a fire; for, by doing so, one of the heaviest expenses in housekeeping can be lessened fully half. First, then, remove the covers, and gather all ashes and cinders from the inside top of the stove, into the grate. Now put on the covers; shut the doors; close all the draughts, and dump the contents of the grate into the pan below. In some stoves there is an under-grate, to which a handle is attached; and, this grate being shaken, the ashes pass through to the ash-pan, and the cinders remain in the grate. In that case, they can simply be shoveled out into the extra coal-hod, all pieces of clinker picked out, and a little water sprinkled on them. If all must be dumped together, a regular ash-sifter will be required, placed over a barrel which receives the ashes, while the cinders remain, and are to be treated as described. Into the grate put shavings or paper, or the fat pine known as lightwood. If the latter be used, paper is unnecessary. Lay on some small sticks of wood, _crossing them_ so that there may be a draught through them; add then one or two sticks of hard wood, and set the shavings or paper on fire, seeing that every draught is open. As soon as the wood is well on fire, cover with about six inches of coal, the smaller, or nut-coal, being always best for stove use. When the coal is burning brightly, shut up all the dampers save the slide in front of the grate, and you will have a fire which will last, without poking or touching in any way, four hours. Even if a little more heat is needed for ovens, and you open the draughts, this rule still holds good. Never, for any reason, allow the coal to come above the edge of the fire-box or lining. If you do, ashes and cinders will fall into the oven-flues, and they will soon be choked up, and require cleaning. Another reason also lies in the fact that the stove-covers resting on red-hot coals soon burn out, and must be renewed; whereas, by carefully avoiding such chance, a stove may be used many years without crack or failure of any sort. If fresh heat is required for baking or any purpose after the first four hours, let the fire burn low, then take off the covers, and with the poker _from the bottom_ rake out all the ashes thoroughly. Then put in two or three sticks of wood, fill as before with fresh coal, and the fire is good for another four hours or more. If only a light fire be required after dinner for getting tea, rake only slightly; then, fill with _cinders_, and close all the dampers. Half an hour before using the stove, open them, and the fire will rekindle enough for any ordinary purpose. As there is great difference in the "drawing" of chimneys, the exact time required for making a fire can not be given. In using wood, the same principles apply; but of course the fire must be fed much oftener. Grate-fires, as well as those in the ordinary stove, are to be made in much the same way. In a grate, a blower is fastened on until the coal is burning well; but, if the fire is undisturbed after its renewal, it should burn from six to eight hours without further attention. Then rake out the ashes, add coal, put on the blower a few minutes, and then proceed as before. If an exceedingly slow fire is desired, cover the top with cinders, or with ashes moistened with water. In making a grate or stove fire, keep a coarse cloth to lay before it, that ashes may not spoil the carpet; and wipe about the fire-place with a damp, coarse cloth. In putting on coal in a sick-room, where noise would disturb the patient, it is a good plan to put it in small paper bags or in pieces of newspaper, in which it can be laid on silently. A short table of degrees of heat in various forms of fuel is given below; the degree required for baking, &c, finding place when we come to general operations in cooking. DEGREES OF HEAT FROM FUEL. Willow charcoal 600° _Fah._ Ordinary charcoal 700° _Fah._ Hard wood 800° to 900° _Fah._ Coal 1000° _Fah._ _Lights_ are next in order. Gas hardly requires mention, as the care of it is limited to seeing that it is not turned too high, the flame in such case not only vitiating the air of the room with double speed, but leaving a film of smoke upon every thing in it. Kerosene is the oil most largely used for lamps; and the light from either a student-lamp, or the lamp to which a "student-burner" has been applied, is the purest and steadiest now in use. A few simple rules for the care of lamps will prevent, not only danger of explosion, but much breakage of chimneys, smoking, &c. 1. Let the wick always touch the bottom of the lamp, and see that the top is trimmed square and even across, with a pair of scissors kept for the purpose. 2. Remember that a lamp, if burned with only a little oil in it, generates a gas which is liable at any moment to explode. Fill lamps to within half an inch of the top. If filled brimming full, the outside of the lamp will be constantly covered with the oil, even when unlighted; while as soon as lighted, heat expanding it, it will run over, and grease every thing near it. 3. In lighting a lamp, turn the wick up gradually, that the chimney may heat slowly: otherwise the glass expands too rapidly, and will crack. 4. Keep the wick turned high enough to burn freely. Many persons turn down the wick to save oil, but the room is quickly poisoned by the evil smell from the gas thus formed. If necessary, as in a sick-room, to have little light, put the lamp in the hall or another room, rather than to turn it down. 5. Remember, that, as with the fire, plenty of fresh air is necessary for a free blaze, and that your lamp must be kept as free from dirt as the stove from ashes. In washing the chimneys, use hot suds; and wipe with bits of newspaper, which not only dry the glass better than a cloth, but polish it also. 6. In using either student-lamps, whether German or American, or the beautiful and costly forms known as moderator-lamps, remember, that, to secure a clear flame, the oil which accumulates in the cup below the wick, as well as any surplus which has overflowed from the reservoir, must be _poured out daily_. The neglect of this precaution is the secret of much of the trouble attending the easy getting out of order of expensive lamps, which will cease to be sources of difficulty if this rule be followed carefully. 7. Keep every thing used in such cleaning in a small box; the ordinary starch-box with sliding lid being excellent for this purpose. Extra wicks, lamp-scissors, rags for wiping off oil, can all find place here. See that lamp-rags are burned now and then, and fresh ones taken; as the smell of kerosene is very penetrating, and a room is often made unpleasant by the presence of dirty lamp-rags. If properly cared for, lamps need be no more offensive than gas. _Things_ to work with. We have settled that our kitchen shall be neat, cheerful, and sunny, with closets as much as possible near enough together to prevent extra steps being taken. If the servant is sufficiently well-trained to respect the fittings of a well-appointed kitchen, and to take pleasure in keeping them in order, the whole apparatus can be arranged in the kitchen-closets. If, however, there is any doubt on this point, it will be far better to have your own special table, and shelf or so above it, where the utensils required for your own personal use in delicate cooking can be arranged. In any kitchen not less than two tables are required: one for all rough work,--preparing meat, vegetables, &c, and dishing up meals; the other for general convenience. The first must stand as near the sink and fire as possible; and close to it, on a dresser, which it is well to have just above the table and within reach of the hand, should be all the essentials for convenient work, namely:-- A meat-block or board; A small meat-saw; A small cleaver and meat-knife; Spoons, skewers, vegetable-cutters, and any other small conveniences used at this table, such as potato-slicer, larding and trussing needles, &c.; A chopping-knife and wooden tray or bowl; Rolling-pin, and bread and pastry board; Narrow-bladed, very sharp knife for paring, the French cook-knife being the best ever invented for this purpose. A deep drawer in the table for holding coarse towels and aprons, balls of twine of two sizes, squares of cloth used in boiling delicate fish or meats, &c., will be found almost essential. Basting-spoons and many small articles can hang on small hooks or nails, and are more easily picked up than if one must feel over a shelf for them. These will be egg-beaters, graters, ladle, &c. The same dresser, or a space over the sink, must hold washing-pans for meat and vegetables, dish-pans, tin measures from a gill up to one quart, saucepans, milk-boiler, &c. Below the sink, the closet for iron-ware can be placed, or, if preferred, be between sink and stove. A list in detail of every article required for a comfortably-fitted-up kitchen is given at the end of the book. House-furnishing stores furnish elaborate and confusing ones. The present list is simply what is needed for the most efficient work. Of course, as you experiment and advance, it may be enlarged; but the simple outfit can be made to produce all the results likely to be needed, and many complicated patent arrangements are hindrances, rather than helps. The _Iron-ware_ closet must hold at least two iron pots, frying-pans large and small, and a Scotch kettle with frying-basket for oysters, fish-balls, &c.,--this kettle being a broad shallow one four or five inches deep. Roasting-pans, commonly called dripping-pans, are best of Russia iron. _Tin-ware_ must include colander, gravy and jelly strainers, and vegetable-sifter or _purée_-sieve; six tin pie-plates, and from four to six jelly-cake tins with straight edges; and at least one porcelain-lined kettle, holding not less than four quarts, while a three-gallon one for preserving and canning is also desirable; Muffin rings or pans; "gem-pans;" Four bread-tins, of best tin (or, better still, Russia iron), the best size for which is ten inches long by four wide and four deep; the loaf baked in such pan requiring less time, and giving a slice of just the right shape and size; Cake-tins of various shapes as desired, a set of small tins being desirable for little cakes. A small sifter in basket shape will be found good for cake-making, and a larger one for bread; and spices can be most conveniently kept in a spice-caster, which is a stand holding six or eight small labeled canisters. Near it can also be small tin boxes or glass cans for dried sweet herbs, the salt-box, &c. The _Crockery_ required will be: at least two large mixing-bowls, holding not less than eight or ten quarts, and intended for bread, cake, and many other purposes; a bowl with lip to pour from, and also a smaller-sized one holding about two quarts; half a dozen quart and pint bowls; Half a dozen one-and two-quart round or oval pudding-dishes or nappies; Several deep plates for use in putting away cold food; Blancmange-molds, three sizes; One large pitcher, also three-pint and quart sizes; Yeast-jar, or, what is better, two or three Mason's glass cans, kept for yeast. This list does not include any crockery for setting a servant's table; that being governed by the number kept, and other considerations. Such dishes should be of heavier ware than your own, as they are likely to receive rougher handling; but there should be a full supply as one means of teaching neatness. _Wooden-ware_ is essential in the shape of a nest of boxes for rice, tapioca, &c.; and wooden pails for sugar, Graham-flour, &c.; while you will gradually accumulate many conveniences in the way of jars, stone pots for pickling, demijohns, &c., which give the store-room, at last, the expression dear to all thrifty housekeepers. Scrubbing and water pails, scrubbing and blacking brushes, soap-dishes, sand-box, knife-board, and necessities in cleaning, must all find place, and, having found it, keep it to the end; absolute order and system being the first condition of comfortable housekeeping. CHAPTER VI. WASHING-DAY, AND CLEANING IN GENERAL. Why Monday should be fixed upon as washing-day, is often questioned; but, like many other apparently arbitrary arrangements, its foundation is in common-sense. Tuesday has its advantages also, soon to be mentioned; but to any later period than Tuesday there are serious objections. All clothing is naturally changed on Sunday; and, if washed before dirt has had time to harden in the fiber of the cloth, the operation is much easier. The German custom, happily passing away, of washing only annually or semi-annually, is both disgusting, and destructive to health and clothes; the air of whatever room such accumulations are stored in being poisoned, while the clothes themselves are rubbed to pieces in the endeavor to get out the long-seated dirt. A weekly wash being the necessity if perfect cleanliness exists, the simplest and best method of thoroughly accomplishing it comes up for question. While few women are obliged to use their own hands in such directions, plenty of needy and unskilled workwomen who can earn a living in no other way being ready to relieve us, it is yet quite as necessary to know every detail, in order that the best work may be required, and that where there is ignorance of methods in such work they may be taught. The advantages of washing on Tuesday are, that it allows Monday for setting in order after the necessary rest of Sunday, gives opportunity to collect and put in soak all the soiled clothing, and so does away with the objection felt by many good people to performing this operation Sunday night. To avoid such sin, bed-clothing is often changed on Saturday; but it seems only part of the freshness and sweetness which ought always to make Sunday the white-day of the week, that such change should be made on that morning, while the few minutes required for sorting the clothes, and putting them in water, are quite as legitimate as any needed operation. If Monday be the day, then, Saturday night may be chosen for filling the tubs, supposing the kitchen to be unfurnished with stationary tubs. Sunday night enough hot water can be added to make the whole just warm--not hot. Now put in one tub all fine things,--collars and cuffs, shirts and fine underwear. Bed-linen may be added, or soaked in a separate tub; but table-linen must of course be kept apart. Last, let the coarsest and most soiled articles have another. Do not add soap, as if there is any stain it is likely to set it. If the water is hard, a little borax may be added. And see that the clothes are pressed down, and well covered with water. Monday morning, and the earlier the better (the morning sun drying and sweetening clothes better than the later), have the boiler full of clean warm suds. Soft soap may be used, or a bar of hard dissolved in hot water, and used like soft soap. All the water in which the clothes have soaked should be drained off, and the hot suds poured on. Begin with the cleanest articles, which when washed carefully are wrung out, and put in a tub of warm water. Rinse out from this; rub soap on all the parts which are most soiled, these parts being bands and sleeves, and put them in the boiler with cold water enough to cover them. To boil up once will be sufficient for fine clothes. Then take them out into a tub of clean cold water; rinse them in this, and then in a tub of water made very slightly blue with the indigo-bag or liquid indigo. From this water they must be wrung out very dry, and hung out, always out of doors if possible. A wringer is much better than wringing by hand, as the latter is more unequal, and also often twists off buttons. The lines must be perfectly clean. A galvanized-iron wire is best of all; as it never rusts, and needs only to be wiped off each week. If rope is used, never leave it exposed to weather, but bring it in after each washing. A dirty, weather-stained line will often ruin a nice garment. Leave clothes on the line till perfectly dry. If any fruit-stains are on napkins or table-cloths, lay the stained part over a bowl, and pour on boiling water till they disappear. Ink can be taken out if the spot is washed while fresh, in cold water, or milk and water; and a little salt will help in taking out wine-stains. Machine-oil must have a little lard or butter rubbed on the spot, which is then to be washed in warm suds. Never rub soap directly on any stain, as it sets it. For iron-rust, spread the garment in the sun, and cover the spot with salt; then squeeze on lemon-juice enough to wet it. This is much safer and quite as sure as the acids sold for this purpose. In bright sunshine the spot will disappear in a few hours. Remember that long boiling does not improve clothes. If washed clean, simply scalding is all that is required. If delicate curtains, either lace or muslin, are to be washed, allow a tablespoonful of powdered borax to two gallons of warm water, and soap enough to make a strong suds. Soak the curtains in this all night. In the morning add more warm water, and press every part between the hands, without rubbing. Put them in fresh suds, and, if the water still looks dark after another washing, take still another. Boil and rinse as in directions given for other clothes. Starch with very thick hot starch, and dry, not by hanging out, and then ironing, but by putting a light common mattress in the sun, and pinning the curtain upon it, stretching carefully as you pin. One mattress holds two, which will dry in an hour or two. If there is no sun, lay a sheet on the floor of an unused room, and pin the curtains down upon it. In washing flannels, remember that it must be done in a sunny day, that they may dry as rapidly as possible. Put them into hot suds. Do not rub them on a washing-board, as this is one means of fulling and ruining them. Press and rub them in the hands, changing them soon to fresh hot suds. Rinse in a pail of clear hot water; wring very dry; shake, and hang at once in the sun. Flannels thus treated, no matter how delicate, retain their softness and smoothness, and do not shrink. Starch is the next consideration, and is made in two ways,--either raw or boiled. Boiled starch is made by adding cold water to raw starch in the proportion of one cup of water to three-quarters of a cup of starch, and then pouring on boiling water till it has thickened to a smooth mass, constantly stirring as you pour. A bit of butter is added by many excellent laundresses, the bit not to be larger than a filbert. Any thing starched with boiled starch must be dried and sprinkled before ironing, while with raw starch this is not necessary. To make raw starch, allow four even tablespoonfuls to a half-pint of cold water. Dip collars, cuffs, and shirt-bosoms, or any thing which must be very stiff, into this starch, being careful to have them dry. When wet, clap them well between the hands, as this distributes the starch evenly among the fibers of the cloth. The same rule must be followed in using boiled starch. Roll the articles in a damp cloth, as this makes them iron more smoothly; and in an hour they will be ready for the iron. In using boiled starch, after the articles have been dried, and then dampened by sprinkling water lightly upon them, either by the hand, or by shaking over them a small whisk-broom which is dipped as needed in water, it is better to let them lie ten or twelve hours. All clothes require this folding and dampening. Sheets and table-cloths should be held by two persons, shaken and "snapped," and then folded carefully, stretching the edges if necessary. Colored clothing must be rinsed before starching, and the starch should be thin and cool. For ironing neatly and well, there will be required, half a dozen flat-irons, steel bottoms preferred; a skirt-board and bosom-board, both covered, first with old blanket or carpet, then with thick strong cotton-cloth, and over this a cover of lighter cloth, sewed on so that it may be removed as often as may be necessary to wash it. If a bag the size of each is made, and they are hung up in this as soon as used, such washing need very seldom be. Having these, many dispense with ironing-sheet and blanket; but it is better to use a table for all large articles, and on this the ironing-sheet can be pinned, or tied by tapes, or strips of cloth, sewed to each corner. A stand on which to set the irons, a paper and coarse cloth to rub them off on, and a bit of yellow wax tied in a cloth, and used to remove any roughness from the iron, are the requirements of the ironing-table. Once a month, while the irons are still slightly warm, wash them in warm water in which a little lard has been melted. Never let them stand day after day on the stove, and never throw cold water on them, as it makes them very rough. If the starch clings to the irons, put a little Bristol-brick on a board, and rub them up and down till free. If they are too hot for use, put in a current of air a few moments; and in all cases try them on a piece of paper or cloth before putting them on a garment. If through carelessness or accident an article is scorched, lay it in the hottest sunshine to be found. If the fiber is not burned, this will often take the spot entirely out. Let the ironed clothes hang in the air for at least twenty-four hours after ironing. Unaired sheets have often brought on fatal sickness. Examine all clothes sent up from the wash. If the laundress is sure this inspection will take place, it is a constant spur to working in the best way, and a word of praise for good points is always a stimulus. Mending should be done as the clothes are looked over, before putting away. Place the sheets from each wash at the bottom of the pile, that the same ones may not be used over and over, but all come in rotation; and the same with table-linen. If the table-cloth in use is folded carefully in the creases, and kept under a heavy piece of plank, it will retain a fresh look till soiled. Special hints as to washing blankets and dress-materials will be given in the latter part of the book. However carefully and neatly a house may be kept, it requires a special putting in order, known as _House-cleaning_, at least once a year. Spring and fall are both devoted to it in New England; and, if the matter be conducted quietly, there are many advantages in the double cleaning. In a warmer climate, where insect-life is more troublesome and the reign of flies lasts longer, two cleanings are rather a necessity. As generally managed, they are a terror to every one, and above all to gentlemen, who resent it from beginning to end. No wonder, if at the first onslaught all home comfort ends, and regular meals become irregular lunches, and a quiet night's rest something sought but not found. A few simple rules govern here, and will rob the ordeal of half its terrors. If coal or wood are to be laid in for the year's supply, let it be done before cleaning begins, as much dust is spread through the house in such work. Heavy carpets do not require taking up every year; once in two, or even three, being sufficient unless they are in constant use. Take out the tacks, however, each year; fold back the carpet half a yard or so; have the floor washed with a strong suds in which borax has been dissolved,--a tablespoonful to a pail of water; then dust black pepper along the edges, and retack the carpet. By this means moths are kept away; and, as their favorite place is in corners and folds, this laying back enables one to search out and destroy them. Sapolio is better than sand for scouring paint, and in all cases a little borax in the water makes such work easier. Closets should be put in order first; all winter clothing packed in trunks, or put in bags made from several thicknesses of newspaper, printers' ink being one of the most effectual protections against moths. Gum-camphor is also excellent; and, if you have no camphor-wood chest or closet, a pound of the gum, sewed into little bags, will last for years. In putting away clothing, blankets, &c., look all over, and brush and shake with the utmost care before folding, in order to get rid of any possible moth-eggs. If matting is used, wipe it with borax-water, using a cloth wet enough to dampen but _not_ wet. Window-glass thoroughly washed can be dried and polished with old newspapers; or whiting can be used, and rubbed off with a woolen cloth. Hard-wood furniture, black walnut, or other varieties, requires oiling lightly with boiled linseed oil, and rubbing dry with a woolen cloth; and varnished furniture, mahogany or rosewood, if kept carefully dusted, requires only an occasional rubbing with chamois-skin or thick flannel to retain its polish perfectly. Soap should never be used on varnish of any sort. Ingrain and other carpets, after shaking, are brightened in color by sprinkling a pound or two of salt over the surface, and sweeping carefully; and it is also useful to occasionally wipe off a carpet with borax-water, using a thick flannel, and taking care not to wet, but only dampen the carpet. Mirrors can be cleaned with whiting. Never scrub oil-pictures: simply wipe with a damp cloth, and, if picture-cord is used, wipe it off to secure against moths. It is impossible to cover the whole ground of cleaning in this chapter. Experience is the best teacher. Only remember that a household earthquake is not necessary, and that the whole work can be done so gradually, quietly, and systematically, that only the workers need know much about it. The sense of purity transfused through the air and breathing from every nook and corner should be the only indication that upheaval has existed. The best work is always in silence. CHAPTER VII. THE BODY AND ITS COMPOSITION. "The lamp of life" is a very old metaphor for the mysterious principle vitalizing nerve and muscle; but no comparison could be so apt. The full-grown adult takes in each day, through lungs and mouth, about eight and a half pounds of dry food, water, and the air necessary for breathing purposes. Through the pores of the skin, the lungs, kidneys, and lower intestines, there is a corresponding waste; and both supply and waste amount in a year to one and a half tons, or three thousand pounds. The steadiness and clear shining of the flame of a lamp depend upon quality, as well as amount of the oil supplied, and, too, the texture of the wick; and so all human life and work are equally made or marred by the food which sustains life, as well as the nature of the constitution receiving that food. Before the nature and quality of food can be considered, we must know the constituents of the body to be fed, and something of the process through which digestion and nutrition are accomplished. I shall take for granted that you have a fairly plain idea of the stomach and its dependences. Physiologies can always be had, and for minute details they must be referred to. Bear in mind one or two main points: that all food passes from the mouth to the stomach, an irregularly-shaped pouch or bag with an opening into the duodenum, and from thence into the larger intestine. From the mouth to the end of this intestine, the whole may be called the alimentary canal; a tube of varying size and some thirty-six feet in length. The mouth must be considered part of it, as it is in the mouth that digestion actually begins; all starchy foods depending upon the action of the saliva for genuine digestion, saliva having some strange power by which starch is converted into sugar. Swallowed whole, or placed directly in the stomach, such food passes through the body unchanged. Each division of the alimentary canal has its own distinct digestive juice, and I give them in the order in which they occur. First, The saliva; secreted from the glands of the mouth:--alkaline, glairy, adhesive. Second, The gastric juice; secreted in the inner or third lining of the stomach,--an acid, and powerful enough to dissolve all the fiber and albumen of flesh food. Third, The pancreatic juice; secreted by the pancreas, which you know in animals as sweetbreads. This juice has a peculiar influence upon fats, which remain unchanged by saliva and gastric juice; and not until dissolved by pancreatic juice, and made into what chemists call an _emulsion_, can they be absorbed into the system. Fourth, The bile; which no physiologist as yet thoroughly understands. We know its action, but hardly _why_ it acts. It is a necessity, however; for if by disease the supply be cut off, an animal emaciates and soon dies. Fifth, The intestinal juice; which has some properties like saliva, and is the last product of the digestive forces. A meal, then, in its passage downward is first diluted and increased in bulk by a watery fluid which prepares all the starchy portion for absorption. Then comes a still more profuse fluid, dissolving all the meaty part. Then the fat is attended to by the stream of pancreatic juice, and at the same time the bile pours upon it, doing its own work in its own mysterious way; and last of all, lest any process should have been imperfect, the long canal sends out a juice having some of the properties of all. Thus each day's requirements call for PINTS. Of saliva 3-3/4 gastric juice 12 bile 3-3/4 pancreatic juice 1-1/2 intestinal juice 1/2 ------- 21-1/2 Do not fancy this is all wasted or lost. Very far from it: for the whole process seems to be a second circulation, as it were; and, while the blood is moving in its wonderful passage through veins and arteries, another circulation as wonderful, an endless current going its unceasing round so long as life lasts, is also taking place. But without food the first would become impossible; and the quality of food, and its proper digestion, mean good or bad blood as the case may be. We must follow our mouthful of food, and see how this action takes place. When the different juices have all done their work, the _chyme_, which is food as it passes from the stomach into the duodenum or passage to the lower stomach or bowels, becomes a milky substance called _chyle_, which moves slowly, pushed by numberless muscles along the bowel, which squeeze much of it into little glands at the back of the bowels. These are called the mesenteric glands; and, as each one receives its portion of chyle, a wonderful thing happens. About half of it is changed into small round bodies called corpuscles, and they float with the rest of the milky fluid through delicate pipes which take it to a sort of bag just in front of the spine. To this bag is fastened another pipe or tube--the thoracic duct--which follows the line of the spine; and up this tube the small bodies travel till they come to the neck and a spot where two veins meet. A door in one opens, and the transformation is complete. The small bodies are raw food no more, but blood, traveling fast to where it may be purified, and begin its endless round in the best condition. For, as you know, venous blood is still impure and dirty blood. Before it can be really alive it must pass through the veins to the right side of the heart, flow through into the upper chamber, then through another door or valve into the lower, where it is pumped out into the lungs. If these lungs are, as they should be, full of pure air, each corpuscle is so charged with oxygen, that the last speck of impurity is burned up, and it goes dancing and bounding on its way. That is what health means: perfect food made into perfect blood, and giving that sense of strength and exhilaration that we none of us know half as much about as we should. We get it sometimes on mountain-tops in clear autumn days when the air is like wine; but God meant it to be our daily portion, and this very despised knowledge of cookery is to bring it about. If a lung is imperfect, supplied only with foul air as among the very poor, or diseased as in consumption, food does not nourish, and you now know why. We have found that the purest air and the purest water contain the largest proportion of oxygen; and it is this that vitalizes both food and, through food, the blood. To nourish this body, then, demands many elements; and to study these has been the joint work of chemists and physiologists, till at last every constituent of the body is known and classified. Many as these constituents are, they are all resolved into the simple elements, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and carbon, while a little sulphur, a little phosphorus, lime, chlorine, sodium, &c., are added. FLESH and BLOOD are composed of water, fat, fibrine, albumen, gelatine, and the compounds of lime, phosphorus, soda, potash, magnesia, iron, &c. BONE contains cartilage, gelatine, fat, and the salts of lime, magnesia, soda, &c., in combination with phosphoric and other acids. CARTILAGE consists of chondrine, a substance somewhat like gelatine, and contains also the salts of sulphur, lime, soda, potash, phosphorus, magnesia, and iron. BILE is made up of water, fat, resin, sugar, cholesterine, some fatty acids, and the salts of potash, iron, and soda. THE BRAIN is made up of water, albumen, fat, phosphoric acid, osmazone, and salts. THE LIVER unites water, fat, and albumen, with phosphoric and other acids, and lime, iron, soda, and potash. THE LUNGS are formed of two substances: one like gelatine; another of the nature of caseine and albumen, fibrine, cholesterine, iron, water, soda, and various fatty and organic acids. How these varied elements are held together, even science with all its deep searchings has never told. No man, by whatsoever combination of elements, has ever made a living plant, much less a living animal. No better comparison has ever been given than that of Youmans, who makes a table of the analogies between the human body and the steam-engine, which I give as it stands. ANALOGIES OF THE STEAM-ENGINE AND THE LIVING BODY. _The Steam Engine in Action takes_: 1. Fuel: coal and wood, both combustible. 2. Water for evaporation. 3. Air for combustion. _And Produces_: 4. A steady boiling heat of 212° by quick combustion. 5. Smoke loaded with carbonic acid and watery vapor. 6. Incombustible ashes. 7. Motive force of simple alternate push and pull in the piston, which, acting through wheels, bands, and levers, does work of endless variety. 8. A deficiency of fuel, water, or air, disturbs, then stops the motion. _The Animal Body in Life takes_: 1. Food: vegetables and flesh, both combustible. 2. Water for circulation. 3. Air for respiration. _And Produces_: 4. A steady animal heat, by slow combustion, of 98°. 5. Expired breath loaded with carbonic acid and watery vapor. 6. Incombustible animal refuse. 7. Motive force of simple alternate contraction and relaxation in the muscles, which, acting through joints, tendons, and levers, does work of endless variety. 8. A deficiency of food, drink, or air, first disturbs, then stops the motion and the life. Carrying out this analogy, you will at once see why a person working hard with either body or mind requires more food than the one who does but little. The food taken into the human body can never be a simple element. We do not feed on plain, undiluted oxygen or nitrogen; and, while the composition of the human body includes really sixteen elements in all, oxygen is the only one used in its natural state. I give first the elements as they exist in a body weighing about one hundred and fifty-four pounds, this being the average weight of a full-grown man; and add a table, compiled from different sources, of the composition of the body as made up from these elements. Dry as such details may seem, they are the only key to a full understanding of the body, and the laws of the body, so far as the food-supply is concerned; though you will quickly find that the day's food means the day's thought and work, well or ill, and that in your hands is put a power mightier than you know,--the power to build up body, and through body the soul, into a strong and beautiful manhood and womanhood. ELEMENTS OF THE HUMAN BODY. ---------------------------------------------------------|------|-----|----- | Lbs. | Oz. | Grs. ---------------------------------------------------------|------|-----|----- 1. Oxygen, a gas, and supporter of combustion, | | | weighs | 103 | 2 | 335 | | | 2. Carbon, a solid; found most nearly pure in charcoal. | | | Carbon in the body combines with other | | | elements to produce carbonic-acid gas, and by | | | its burning sets heat free. Its weight is | 18 | 11 | 150 | | | 3. Hydrogen, a gas, is a part of all bone, blood, and | | | muscle, and weighs | 4 | 14 | 0 | | | 4. Nitrogen, a gas, is also part of all muscle, blood, | | | and bone; weighing | 4 | 14 | 0 | | | 5. Phosphorus, a solid, found in brain and bones, | | | weighs | 1 | 12 | 25 | | | 6. Sulphur, a solid, found in all parts of the body, | | | weighs | 0 | 8 | 0 | | | 7. Chlorine, a gas, found in all parts of the body, | | | weighs | 0 | 4 | 150 | | | 8. Fluorine, supposed to be a gas, is found with calcium | | | in teeth and bones, and weighs | 0 | 3 | 300 | | | 9. Silicon, a solid, found united with oxygen in the | | | hair, skin, bile, bones, blood, and saliva, weighs | 0 | 0 | 14 | | | 10. Magnesium, a metal found in union with phosphoric | | | acid in the bones | 0 | 2 | 250 | | | 11. Potassium, a metal, the basis of potash, is found | | | as phosphate and chloride; weighs | 0 | 3 | 340 | | | 12. Sodium, a metal, basis of soda; weighs | 0 | 3 | 217 | | | 13. Calcium, a metal, basis of lime, found chiefly in | | | bones and teeth; weighs | 3 | 13 | 190 | | | 14. Iron, a metal essential in the coloring of the | | | blood, and found everywhere in the body; | | | weighs | 0 | 0 | 65 | | | 15. Manganese. } Faint traces of both these metals | | | } | | | 16. Copper metals.} are found in brain and blood, | | | but in too minute portions to be given by | | | weight. | | | |------|-----|----- Total | 154 | 0 | 0 The second table gives the combinations of these elements; and, though a knowledge of such combinations is not as absolutely essential as the first, we still can not well dispense with it. The same weight--one hundred and fifty-four pounds--is taken as the standard. COMPOSITION OF THE BODY. ---------------------------------------------------------|------|-----|----- | Lbs. | Oz. | Grs. ---------------------------------------------------------|------|-----|----- 1. Water, which is found in every part of the body, | | | and amounts to | 109 | 0 | 0 | | | 2. Fibrine, and like substances, found in the blood, | | | and forming the chief solid materials of the | | | flesh | 15 | 10 | 0 | | | 3. Phosphate of lime, chiefly in bones and teeth, but | | | in all liquids and tissues | 8 | 12 | 0 4. Fat, a mixture of three chemical compounds, | | | and distributed all through the body | 4 | 8 | 0 | | | 5. Osseine, the organic framework of bones; boiled, | | | gives gelatine. Weight | 4 | 7 | 350 | | | 6. Keratine, a nitrogenous substance, forming the | | | greater part of hair, nails, and skin. Weighs | 4 | 2 | 0 | | | 7. Cartilagine resembles the osseine of bone, and is a | | | nitrogenous substance, the chief constituent of | | | cartilage, weighing | 1 | 8 | 0 | | | 8. Hæmoglobine gives the red color to blood, and is | | | a nitrogenous substance containing iron, and | | | weighing | 1 | 8 | 0 | | | 9. Albumen is a soluble nitrogenous substance, | | | found in the blood, chyle, lymph, and muscle, | | | and weighs | 1 | 1 | 0 | | | 10. Carbonate of lime is found in the bones chiefly, | | | and weighs | 1 | 1 | 0 | | | 11. Hephalin is found in nerves and brain, with | | | cerebrine and other compounds | 0 | 13 | 0 | | | 12. Fluoride of calcium is found in teeth and bones, | | | and weighs | 0 | 7 | 175 | | | 13. Phosphate of magnesia is also in teeth and bones, | | | and weighs | 0 | 7 | 0 | | | 14. Chloride of sodium, or common salt, is found in | | | all parts of the body, and weighs | 0 | 7 | 0 | | | 15. Cholesterine, glycogen, and inosite are compounds | | | containing hydrogen, oxygen, and carbon, | | | found in muscle, liver, and brain, and | | | weighing | 0 | 3 | 0 | | | 16. Sulphate phosphate, and salts of sodium, found | | | in all tissues and liquids | 0 | 2 | 107 | | | 17. Sulphate, phosphate, and chloride of potassium, | | | are also in all tissues and liquids | 0 | 1 | 300 | | | 18. Silica, found in hair, skin, and bone | 0 | 0 | 30 | | | | --- | --- | --- | 154 | 0 | 0 With this basis, to give us some understanding of the complicated and delicate machinery with which we must work, the question arises, what food contains all these constituents, and what its amount and character must be. The answer to this question will help us to form an intelligent plan for providing a family with the right nutrition. CHAPTER VIII. FOOD AND ITS LAWS. We have found, that, in analyzing the constituents of the body, water is the largest part; and turning to food, whether animal or vegetable, the same fact holds good. It forms the larger part of all the drinks, of fruits, of succulent vegetables, eggs, fish, cheese, the cereals, and even of fats. Fat is found in butter, lard, drippings, milk, eggs, cheese, fish, meat, the cereals, leguminous vegetables,--such as pease and beans,--nuts, cocoa, and chocolate. Sugar abounds in fruits and vegetables, and is found in milk and cereals. Starch, which under the action of the saliva changes into glucose or grape-sugar, is present in vegetables and cereals. Flesh foods, called as often nitrogenous foods, from containing so large a proportion of nitrogen, are made up of fibrine, albumen, caseine, gelatine, and gluten; the first four elements being present in flesh, the latter in vegetables. Salts of various forms exist in both animal and vegetable food. In meat, fish, and potatoes are found phosphorus, lime, and magnesia. Common salt is largely made up of soda, but is found with potash in many vegetables. This last element is also in meat, fish, milk, vegetables, and fruits. Iron abounds in flesh and vegetables; and sulphur enters into albumen, caseine, and fibrine. The simplest division of food is into _flesh-formers_ and _heat-producers_; the former being as often called nitrogenous food, or albumenoids; the latter, heat-giving or carbonaceous foods. Much minuter divisions could be made, but these two cover the ground sufficiently well. For a healthy body both are necessary, but climate and constitution will always make a difference in the amounts required. Thus, in a keen and long-continued winter, the most condensed forms of carbonaceous foods will be needed; while in summer a small portion of nitrogenous food to nourish muscle, and a large amount of cooling fruits and vegetables, are indicated; both of these, though more or less carbonaceous in character, containing so much water as to neutralize any heat-producing effects. Muscle being the first consideration in building up a strong body, we need first to find out the values of different foods as flesh-formers, healthy flesh being muscle in its most perfect condition. Flesh and fat are never to be confounded, fat being really a species of disease,--the overloading of muscle and tissue with what has no rightful place there. There should be only enough fat to round over the muscle, but never hide its play. The table given is the one in use in the food-gallery of the South Kensington Museum, and includes not only the nutritive value, but the cost also, of each article; taking beef as the standard with which other animal foods are to be compared, beef being the best-known of all meats. Among vegetables, lentils really contain most nourishment; but wheat is chosen as being much more familiar, lentils being very little used in this country save by the German part of the population, and having so strong and peculiar a flavor that we are never likely to largely adopt their use. About an equal amount of nourishment is found in the varied amounts mentioned in the table which follows:-- TABLE. Cost about Eight ounces of lean beef (half-pound) 6 cts. Ten ounces of dried lentils 7 cts. Eleven ounces of pease or beans 5 cts. Twelve ounces of cocoa-nibs 20 cts. Fourteen ounces of tea 40 cts. Fifteen ounces of oatmeal 5 cts. One pound and one ounce of wheaten flour 4 cts. One pound and one ounce of coffee 30 cts. One pound and two ounces of rye-flour 5 cts. One pound and three ounces of barley 5 cts. One pound and five ounces Indian meal 5 cts. One pound and thirteen ounces of buckwheat-flour 10 cts. Two pounds of wheaten bread 10 cts. Two pounds and six ounces of rice 20 cts. Five pounds and three ounces of cabbage 10 cts. Five pounds and three ounces of onions 15 cts. Eight pounds and fifteen ounces of turnips 9 cts. Ten pounds and seven ounces of potatoes 10 cts. Fifteen pounds and ten ounces of carrots 15 cts. Now, because tea, coffee, and cocoa approach so nearly in value as nutriment to beef and lentils, we must not be misled. Fourteen ounces of tea are equivalent to half a pound of meat; but a repast of dry tea not being very usual, in fact, being out of the question altogether, it becomes plain, that the principal value of these foods, used as we must use them, in very small quantities, is in the warmth and comfort they give. Also, these weights (except the bread) are of uncooked food. Eight ounces of meat would, if boiled or roasted, dwindle to five or six, while the ten ounces of lentils or beans would swell to twice the capacity of any ordinary stomach. So, ten pounds of potatoes are required to give you the actual benefit contained in the few ounces of meat; and only the Irishman fresh from his native cabin can calmly consider a meal of that magnitude, while, as to carrots, neither Irishman nor German, nor the most determined and enterprising American, could for a moment face the spectacle of fifteen pounds served up for his noonday meal. The inference is plain. Union is strength, here as elsewhere; and the perfect meal must include as many of these elements as will make it not too bulky, yet borrowing flavor and substance wherever necessary. As a rule, the food best adapted to climate and constitution seems to have been instinctively decided upon by many nations; and a study of national dishes, and their adaptation to national needs, is curious and interesting. The Esquimaux or Greenlander finds his most desirable meal in a lump of raw blubber, the most condensed form of carbonaceous food being required to preserve life. It is not a perverted taste, but the highest instinct; for in that cruel cold the body must furnish the food on which the keen air draws, and the lamp of life there has a very literal supply. Take now the other extreme of temperature,--the East Indies, China, Africa, and part even of the West Indies and America,--and you find rice the universal food. There is very little call, as you may judge, for heat-producers, but rather for flesh-formers; and starch and sugar both fulfill this end, the rice being chiefly starch, which turns into sugar under the action of the saliva. Add a little melted butter, the East Indian _ghee_, or olive-oil used in the West Indies instead, and we have all the elements necessary for life under those conditions. A few degrees northward, and the same rice is mingled with bits of fish or meat, as in the Turkish _pilau_, a dish of rice to which mutton or poultry is added. The wandering Arab finds in his few dates, and handful of parched wheat or maize, the sugar and starch holding all the heat required, while his draught of mare's or camel's milk, and his occasional _pilau_ of mutton, give him the various elements which seem sufficient to make him the model of endurance, blitheness, and muscular power. So the Turkish burden-bearers who pick up a two-hundred-pound bag of coffee as one picks up a pebble, use much the same diet, though adding melons and cucumbers, which are eaten as we eat apples. The noticeable point in the Italian dietary is the universal and profuse use of macaroni. Chestnuts and Indian corn, the meal of which is made into a dish called _polenta_, something like our mush, are also used, but macaroni is found at every table, noble or peasant's. No form of wheat presents such condensed nourishment, and it deserves larger space on our own bills of fare than we have ever given it. In Spain we find the _olla podrida_, a dish containing, as chief ingredient, the _garbanzo_ or field-pea: it is a rich stew, of fowls or bacon, red peppers, and pease. Red pepper enters into most of the dishes in torrid climates, and there is a good and sufficient reason for this apparent mistake. Intense and long-continued heat weakens the action of the liver, and thus lessens the supply of bile; and red pepper has the power of stimulating the liver, and so assisting digestion. East Indian curries, and the Mexican and Spanish _olla_, are therefore founded on common-sense. In France the _pot-au-feu_, or soup-pot, simmers in every peasant or middle-class home, and is not to be despised even in richer ones. In this dish, a small portion of meat is cooked so judiciously as to flavor a large mass of vegetables and broth; and this, served with salad and oil and bread, forms a meal which can hardly be surpassed in its power of making the most of every constituent offered. In Germany soups are a national dish also; but their extreme fondness for pork, especially raw ham and sausage, is the source of many diseases. Sweden, Norway, Russia,--all the far northern countries,--tend more and more to the oily diet of the Esquimaux, fish being a large part of it. There is no room for other illustrations; but, as you learn the properties of food, you will be able to read national dietaries, from the Jewish down, with a new understanding of what power food had and has in forming national peculiarities. It is settled, then, that to renew our muscles which are constantly wearing out, we must eat the food containing the same constituents; and these we find in meat, milk, eggs, and the entire gluten of grains, &c, as in wheaten-grits or oatmeal. Fat and heat must come to us from the starches and sugars, in sufficient supply to "put a layer of wadding between muscles and skin, fill out the wrinkles, and keep one warm." To find out the proportion needed for one's own individual constitution, is the first work for all of us. The laborer requires one thing, the growing child another, the man or woman whose labor is purely intellectual another; and to understand how best to meet these needs, demands a knowledge to which most of us have been indifferent. If there is excess or lack of any necessary element, that excess or lack means disease, and for such disease we are wholly responsible. Food is not the only and the universal elixir of life; for weak or poor blood is often an inheritance, and comes to one tainted by family diseases, or by defects in air or climate in general. But, even when outward conditions are most disastrous, perfect food has power to avert or alter their effects; and the child who begins life burdened with scrofulous or other diseases, and grows to a pale, weak, unwholesome youth, and either a swift passing into the next world, or a life here of hopeless invalidism, can, nine times out of ten, have this course of things stopped by scientific understanding of what foods are necessary for such conditions. I propose to take the life of one who from babyhood up has been fed on the best food, perfectly prepared, and to give the tables of such food for different periods in that life, allowing only such digression as will show the effects of an opposite course of treatment; thus showing the relations of food to health,--a more necessary and vital form of knowledge than any other that the world owns. CHAPTER IX. THE RELATIONS OF FOOD TO HEALTH. We begin, then, with a typical baby, born of civilized parents, and living in the midst of the best civilization to be had. Savage or even partially civilized life could never furnish the type we desire. It is true, as we have seen, that natural laws, so deeply planted that they have become instincts, have given to many wild nations a dietary meeting their absolute needs; but only civilization can find the key to these modes, and make past experience pay tribute to present knowledge. We do not want an Indian baby, bound and swathed like a little mummy, hanging from the pole of a wigwam, placidly sucking a fish's tail, or a bone of boiled dog; nor an Esquimaux baby, with its strip of blubber; nor the Hottentot, with its rope of jerked beef; nor the South-sea Islander, with its half-cocoanut. Nor will we admit the average Irish baby, among the laboring classes in both city and country, brought to the table at three months old to swallow its portion of coffee or tea; nor the small German, whom at six months I have seen swallowing its little mug of lager as philosophically as its serious-faced father. That these babies have fevers and rashes, and a host of diseases peculiar to that age, is a matter of course; and equally a matter of course that the round-eyed mother wonders where it got its dreadful disposition, but scorns the thought that lager or coffee can be irritants, or that the baby stomach requires but one food, and that one the universal food of all young animal life,--milk. Take, then, our typical baby, lying fresh and sweet in the well aired and lighted room we suppose to be his birthright. The bones are still soft, the tender flesh and skin with little or no power of resistance. Muscles, nerves, all the wonderful tissues, are in process of formation; and in the strange growth and development of this most helpless yet most precious of all God's creations, there are certain elements which must be had,--phosphates to harden the delicate bones; nitrogen for flesh, which is only developed muscle; carbon,--or sugar and fat, which represent carbon,--for the whole wonderful course of respiration and circulation. Water, too, must be in abundance to fill the tiny stomach, which in the beginning can hold but a spoonful; and to float the blood-corpuscles through the winding channels whose mysteries, even now, no man has fully penetrated. Caseine, which is the solid, nourishing, cheesy part of milk, and abounds in nitrogen, is also needed; and all the salts and alkalies that we have found to be necessary in forming perfect blood. Let us see if milk will meet these wants. COMPOSITION OF COW'S MILK. (_Supposed to contain 1,000 parts._) Water 870.2 Caseine 44.8 Butter 31.3 Sugar 47.7 ------ _Carried forward_ 994.0 _Brought forward_ 994.0 Soda } Chloride of sodium and potassium} Phosphate of soda and potassa } Phosphate of lime } 6.0 Magnesia } Iron } Alkaline carbonates } ------- 1,000.0 Mother's milk being nearly the same, having only a larger proportion of water, will for the first year of our baby's life meet every demand the system can make. Even the first teeth are no sign, as ignorant mothers believe, that the stomach calls for stronger food. They are known, with reason, as milk-teeth, and the grinders delay their appearance for months afterward. A little oatmeal, bread and milk, and various porridges, come in here, that the bones may harden more rapidly; but that is all. The baby is in constant motion; and eyes and ears are taking in the mysteries of the new life, and busy hands testing properties, and little feet walking into mischief, all day. This is hardly the place to dwell upon the amount of knowledge acquired from birth to five years of age; yet when you consider how the mind is reaching in every direction, appropriating, investigating, drawing conclusions which are the foundation of all our after-knowledge, you will see that the brain is working with an intensity never afterwards equaled; and, as brain-work means actual destruction of brain-fiber, how vital it is that food should be furnished in the right ratio, and made up of the right elements! With the coming of the grinders, and the call of the muscles and tissues for stronger food, begins the necessity for a more varied dietary. Our baby now, from two and a half to seven years of age, will require daily:-- Bread, not less than 12 ounces. Butter 1 ounce. Milk 1/2 pint. Meat 2 ounces. Vegetables 6 ounces. Pudding or gruel 6 ounces. This table is made from the dietaries of various children's hospitals, where long experiment has settled the quantities and qualities necessary to health, or, as in these cases, recovery from sickness, at which time the appetite is always keener. In many cases physicians who have studied the laws of food, and kept pace with modern experiments in dietetics, strike out meat altogether till the child is seven or eight years old, and allow it but once daily after this time, and in very limited amount. Sir Henry Thompson, one of the most distinguished of English physicians, and a man noted for his popularity as diner out and giver of dinners, writes strenuously against the prevailing excessive use of meat, and especially protests against its over use for children; and his opinion is shared by most thoughtful medical men. The nitrogenous vegetables advantageously take its place; and cheese, as prepared after the formulas given in Mattieu Williams's "Chemistry of Cookery," is a food the value of which we are but just beginning to appreciate. As to quantity, with the healthy child, playing at will, there need be very little restraint. Few children will eat too much of perfectly simple food, such as this table includes. Let cake or pastry or sweetmeats enter in, and of course, as long as the thing tastes good, the child will beg for more. English children are confined to this simple diet; and though of course a less exacting climate has much to do with the greater healthfulness of the English than the American people, the plain but hearty and regular diet of childhood has far more. Our young American of seven, at a hotel breakfast, would call for coffee and ham and eggs and sausages and hot cakes. His English cousin would have no liberty to call for anything. In fact, it is very doubtful if he would be brought to table at all; and if there, bread and milk or oatmeal and milk would form his meal. By this time I do not doubt our baby has your heartiest pity, and you are saying, "What! no snacks? no cooky nor cake nor candy? no running to aunt or grandmother or tender-hearted cook for goodies? If that must be so, half the pleasure of childhood is lost." Perhaps; but suppose that with that pleasure some other things are also lost. Suppose our baby to have begun life with a nervous, irritable, sensitive organization, keenly alive to pain, and this hard regimen to have covered these nerves with firm flesh, and filled the veins with clean, healthy blood. Suppose headache is unknown, and loss of appetite, and a bad taste in the mouth, and all the evils we know so well; and that work and play are easy, and food of the simplest eaten with solid satisfaction. The child would choose the pleasant taste, and let health go, naturally; for a child has small reason, and life must be ordered for it. But if the mother or father has no sense or understanding of the laws of food, it is useless to hope for the wholesome results that under the diet of our baby are sure to follow. By seven some going to school has begun; and from this time on the diet, while of the same general character, may vary more from day to day. Habits of life are fixed during this time; and even if parents dislike certain articles of food themselves, it is well to give no sign, but as far as possible, accustom the child to eat any wholesome food. We are a wandering people, and sooner or later are very likely to have circumnavigated the globe, at least in part. Our baby must have no antipathies, but every good thing given by Nature shall at least be tolerated. "I never eat this," or "I never eat that," is a formula that no educated person has a right to use save when some food actually hurtful or to which he has a natural repulsion is presented to him. Certain articles of diet are often strangely and unaccountably harmful to some. Oysters are an almost deadly poison to certain constitutions; milk to others. Cheese has produced the same effect, and even strawberries; yet all these are luxuries to the ordinary stomach. Usually the thing to guard against most carefully is gluttony, so far as boys are concerned. With girls the tendency often is to eat far too little. A false delicacy, a feeling that paleness and fragility are beautiful and feminine, inclines the young girl often to eat less than she desires; and the stomach accustoms itself to the insufficient supply, till the reception of a reasonable meal is an impossibility. Or if they eat improper food (hot breads and much fat and sweets), the same result follows. Digestion, or rather assimilation, is impossible; and pasty face and lusterless eyes become the rule. A greedy woman is the exception; and yet all schoolgirls know the temptation to over-eating produced by a box of goodies from home, or the stronger temptation, after a school-term has ended, to ravage all cake-boxes and preserve-jars. Then comes the pill or powder, and the habit of going to them for a relief which if no excess had been committed, would have been unnecessary. Patent medicines are the natural sequence of unwholesome food, and both are outrages on common-sense. We will take it for granted, then, that our baby has come to boyhood and youth in blissful ignorance of their names or natures. But as we are not in the least certain what personal tastes he may have developed, or what form his life-work is to take,--whether professional or mercantile or artisan in one of the many trades,--we can now only give the regimen best adapted for each. Supposing his tastes to be scholarly, and a college and professional career to be chosen, the time has come for slight changes in the system of diet,--very slight, however. It has become a popular saying among thinkers upon these questions, "Without phosphorus, no thinking;" and like all arbitrary utterances it has done more harm than good. The amount of phosphorus passing through the system bears no relation whatever to the intensity of thought. "A captive lion," to quote from Dr. Chambers, one of the most distinguished living authorities on diet, "a leopard, or hare, which can have wonderfully little to think about, assimilates and parts with a greater quantity of phosphorus than a professor of chemistry working hard in his laboratory; while a beaver, who always seems to be contriving something, excretes so little phosphorus that chemical analysis cannot detect it." Phosphatic salts are demanded, but so are other salts, fat, and water; and the dietaries that order students to live upon fish, eggs, and oysters, because they are rich in phosphorus, without which the brain starves, err just so far as they make this the sole reason,--the real reason being that these articles are all easily digested, and that the student, leading an inactive muscular life, does not require the heavy, hearty food of the laborer. The most perfect regimen for the intellectual life is precisely what would be advised for the growing boy: frequent _small_ supplies of easily-digested food, that the stomach may never be overloaded, or the brain clouded by the fumes of half-assimilated food. If our boy trains for a foot-race, rows with the college crew, or goes in for base-ball, his power as a brain-worker at once diminishes. Strong muscular action and development hinder continuous mental work; and the literary life, as a rule, allows no extremes, demanding only mild exercise and temperance as its foundation-stones. But our boy can well afford to develop his muscular system so perfectly that his mild exercise would seem to the untrained man tolerably heavy work. The rower in a college crew requires six weeks of training before his muscular power and endurance have reached their height. Every particle of superfluous fat must be removed, for fat is not strength, but weakness. There is a vast difference between the plumpness of good muscular development and the flabby, heavy overloading of these muscles with rolls of fat. The chest must be enlarged, that the lungs may have full play, and be capable of long-continued, extra draughts upon them; and special diet and special exercise alone can accomplish these ends. All fat-producing foods are struck out, sugar and all starchy foods coming under this head, as well as all puddings, pies, cakes, and sweets in general. Our boy, after a short run, would breakfast on lean, under-done beef or mutton, dry toast, or the crust of bread, and tea without milk or sugar; would dine on meat and a little bread and claret, and sup on more meat and toast, with cresses or some acid fruit, having rowed twice over the course in the afternoon, steadily increasing the speed, and following it by a bath and rub. At least nine hours sleep must be had; and with this diet, at the end of the training-time the muscles are hard and firm, the skin wonderfully pure and clear, and the capacity for long, steady breathing under exertion, almost unlimited. No better laws for the reduction of excessive fat can be laid down for any one. Under such a course, severe mental exertion is impossible; and the return to it requires to be gradual. But light exercise with dumb-bells, &c., fresh air, walking, and good food are the conditions of all sound mental work, whether done by man or woman. For the clerk or bookkeeper closely confined to desk or counter, much the same regimen is needed, with brisk exercise at the beginning and end of the day,--at least always walking rather than riding to and from the office or store; while in all the trades where hard labor is necessary, heartier food must be the rule. And for all professions or trades, the summing-up is the same: suitable food, fresh air, sunlight, and perfect cleanliness,--the following of these laws insuring the perfect use of every power to the very end. As old age advances, the food-demand lessens naturally. Nourishing food is still necessary, but taken in much smaller quantities and more often, in order that the waning powers of the stomach may not be overtaxed. Living on such principles, work can go on till the time for work is over, and the long sleep comes as quietly as to a tired child. Simple common-sense and self-control will free one once for all from the fear, too often hanging over middle life, of a paralytic and helpless invalidism, or the long train of apoplectic symptoms often the portion even of middle life. I omit detail as to the character and effects of tea, coffee, alcohol, &c, such details coming in the chapters on the chemistry of food. CHAPTER X. THE CHEMISTRY OF ANIMAL FOOD. Animal food has a wider range than is usually included under that head. The vegetarian who announces that no animal food is allowed upon his table offers a meal in which one finds milk, eggs, butter, and cheese,--all forms of animal food, and all strongly nourishing. A genuine vegetarian, if consistent, would be forced to reject all of these; and it has already been attempted in several large water-cures by enthusiasts who have laid aside their common-sense, and resigned with it some of the most essential forces for life and work. Meat may often be entirely renounced, or eaten only at rare intervals, with great advantage to health and working power, but the dietary for the varied nourishment which seems demanded must include butter, cheese, eggs, and milk. Meats will be regarded as essential by the majority, and naturally they come first in considering food; and beef is taken as the standard, being identical in composition with the structures of the human body. BEEF, if properly fed, is in perfection at seven years old. It should then be a light red on the cut surface, a darker red near the bone, and slightly marbled with fat. Beef contains, in a hundred parts, nearly twenty of nitrogen, seventy-two of water, four of fat, and the remainder in salts of various descriptions. The poorer the quality of the beef, the more it will waste in cooking; and its appearance before cooking is also very different from that of the first quality, which, though looking moist, leaves no stain upon the hand. In poor beef, the watery part seems to separate from the rest, which lies in a pool of serous bloody fluid. The gravy from such beef is pale and poor in flavor; while the fat, which in healthy beef is firm and of a delicate yellow, in the inferior quality is dark yellow and of rank smell and taste. Beef is firmer in texture and more satisfying to the stomach than any other form of meat, and is usually considered more strengthening. MUTTON is a trifle more digestible, however. A healthy person would not notice this, the digestive power in health being more than is necessary for the ordinary meal; but the dyspeptic will soon find that mutton gives his stomach less work. Its composition is very nearly the same as that of beef; and both when cooked, either by roasting or boiling, lose about a third of their substance, and come to us with twenty-seven parts of nitrogen, fifteen of fat, fifty-four of water, and three of salty matters. Mountain sheep and cattle have the finest-flavored meat, and are also richest in nitrogenous matter. The mountain mutton of Virginia and North Carolina is as famous as the English Southdown; but proper feeding anywhere will make a new thing of the ordinary beef and mutton. When our cattle are treated with decent humanity,--not driven days with scant food and water, and then packed into cars with no food and no water, and driven at last to slaughter feverish and gasping in anguish that we have no right to permit for one moment,--we may expect tender, wholesome, well-flavored meat. It is astonishing that under present conditions it can be as good as it is. In well-fed animals, the fat forms about a third of the weight, the largest part being in the loin. In mutton, one-half is fat; in pork, three-quarters; while poultry and game have very little. The amount of bone varies very greatly. The loin and upper part of the leg have least; nearly half the entire weight being in the shin, and a tenth in the carcass. In the best mutton and pork, the bones are smaller, and fat much greater in proportion to size. VEAL and LAMB, like all young meats, are much less digestible than beef or mutton. Both should have very white, clear fat; and if that about the kidneys is red or discolored, the meat should be rejected. Veal has but sixteen parts of nitrogenous matter to sixty-three of water, and the bones contain much more gelatine than is found in older animals. But in all bones much useful carbon and nitrogen is found; three pounds of bone yielding as much carbon, and six pounds as much nitrogen, as one pound of meat. Carefully boiled, this nutriment can all be extracted, and flavored with vegetables, form the basis of an endless variety of soups. PORK is of all meats the most difficult to digest, containing as it does so large a proportion of fat. In a hundred parts of the meat, only nine of nitrogen are found, fat being forty-eight and water thirty-nine, with but two of salty matters. Bacon properly cured is much more digestible than pork, the smoke giving it certain qualities not existing in uncured pork. No food has yet been found which can take its place for army and navy use or in pioneering. Beef when salted or smoked loses much of its virtue, and eight ounces of fat pork will give nearly three times as much carbon or heat-food as the same amount of beef; but its use is chiefly for the laborer, and it should have only occasional place in the dietary of sedentary persons. The pig is liable to many most unpleasant diseases, measles and trichina spiralis being the most fatal to the eaters of meat thus affected; but the last--a small animalcule of deadly effect if taken alive into the human stomach, as is done in eating raw ham or sausage--becomes harmless if the same meat is long and thoroughly boiled. Never be tempted into eating raw ham or sausage; and in using pork in any form, try to have some knowledge of the pig. A clean, well-fed pig in a well-kept stye is a wonderfully different object from the hideous beast grunting its way in many a Southern or Western town, feeding on offal and sewage, and rolling in filth. Such meat is unfit for human consumption, and the eating of it insures disease. We come now to another form of meat, that of edible ENTRAILS. This includes _Tripe_, _Haslet_, or lights, &c. More nitrogen is found here than in any other portion of the meat. The cheap and abundant supply in this country has made us, as a people, reject all but the liver. In the country, the sweetbreads or pancreas are often thrown away, and tripe also. The European peasant has learned to utilize every scrap; and while such use should not be too strongly urged, it is certain that this meat is far better than _no_ meat. Fully one-third of the animals' weight comes under this head,--that is, feet, tail, head, and tongue, lungs, liver, spleen, omentum, pancreas, and heart, together with the intestines. The rich man is hardly likely to choose much of this food, the tongue and sweetbreads being the only dainty bits; but there are wholesome and savory dishes to be made from every part, and the knowledge of their preparation may be of greatest value to a poorer neighbor. Both ox-tails and head make excellent soup. Tripe, the inner lining of the stomach, is, if properly prepared, not only appetizing but pleasant to the eye. Calves' feet make good jelly; and pigs' feet, ears, and head are soused or made into scrapple. Blood-puddings are much eaten by Germans, but we are not likely to adopt their use. Fresh blood has, however, been found of wonderful effect for consumptive patients; and there are certain slaughter-houses in our large cities where every day pale invalids are to be found waiting for the goblet of almost living food from the veins of the still warm animal. Horrible as it seems, the taste for it is soon acquired; and certainly the good results warrant at least the effort to acquire it. VENISON comes next in the order of meats, but is more like game than any ordinary butchers' meat. It is lean, dark in color, and savory, and if well cooked, very digestible. POULTRY are of more importance to us than game, and the flesh, containing less nitrogen, is not so stimulating as beef or mutton. Old fowls are often tough and indigestible, and have often, also, a rank flavor like a close hen-house, produced by the absorption into the flesh of the oil intended by nature to lubricate the feathers. GAME contains even less fat than poultry, and is considered more strengthening. The flesh of rabbits and hares is more like poultry or game than meat, but is too close in fiber to be as digestible. Pigeons and many other birds come under none of the heads given. As a rule, flesh is tender in proportion to the smallness of the animal, and many varieties are eaten for the description of which we have no room here. FISH forms the only animal food for a large part of the world. It does not possess the satisfying or stimulating properties belonging to flesh, yet the inhabitants of fishing-towns are shown to be unusually strong and healthy. The flesh of some fish is white, and of others red; the red holding much more oil, and being therefore less digestible. In _Salmon_, the most nutritious of all fishes, there are, in a hundred parts, sixteen of nitrogen, six of fat, nearly two of saline matter, and seventy-seven of water. _Eels_ contain thirteen parts of fat. _Codfish_, the best-known of all the white fish, vary greatly, according to the time of year in which they are taken, being much more digestible in season than out (i.e., from October to May). _Mackerel_ and _Herring_ both abound in oil, the latter especially, giving not only relish to the Irishman's potato, but the carbon he needs as heat-food. _Shell-fish_ are far less digestible, the _Oyster_ being the only exception. The nitrogenous matter in oysters is fourteen parts, of fatty matter one and a half, of saline matter two, and of water eighty. At the time of spawning--from May to September--they lose their good condition, and become unwholesome. _Lobsters_ rank next in importance, and are more delicate and finer-flavored than _Crabs_. Both are, however, very difficult of digestion, and should only be used occasionally. The many forms of pickled and smoked fish are convenient, but always less wholesome than fresh. MILK comes next, and has already been considered in a previous chapter. It is sometimes found to disagree with the stomach, but usually because looked upon as drink and not as real food, the usual supply of which is taken, forgetful of the fact that a glass or two of milk contains as much nourishment as two-thirds of the average meal. The nitrogenous matter in milk is known as caseine, and it is this which principally forms cheese. CHEESE is commonly considered only a relish, but is in reality one of the most condensed forms of nitrogenous food; and a growing knowledge of its value has at last induced the Army Department to add it to the army ration list. Mattieu Williams, after giving the chemical formulas of caseine and the other elements of cheese, writes; "I have good and sufficient reasons for thus specifying the properties of this constituent of food. I regard it as the most important of all that I have to describe in connection with my subject,--The Science of Cookery. It contains, as I shall presently show, more nutritious material than any other food that is ordinarily obtainable, and its cookery is singularly neglected,--practically an unknown art, especially in this country. We commonly eat it raw, although in its raw state it is peculiarly indigestible, and in the only cooked form familiarly known among us here, that of Welsh rabbit or rare-bit, it is too often rendered still more indigestible, though this need not be the case. Cream-cheese is the richest form, but keeps less well than that of milk. Stilton, the finest English brand, is made partly of cream, partly of milk, and so with various other foreign brands, Gruyere, &c. Parmesan is delicately flavored with fine herbs, and retains this flavor almost unaltered by age. Our American cheeses now rank with the best foreign ones, and will grow more and more in favor as their value is understood, this being their strongly nitrogenous character. A cheese of twenty pounds weight contains as much food as a sheep weighing sixty pounds, as it hangs in the butcher's shop. In Dutch and factory cheeses, where the curd has been precipitated by hydrochloric acid, the food value is less than where rennet is used; but even in this case, it is far beyond meat in actual nutritive power." BUTTER is a purely carbonaceous or heat-giving food, being the fatty part of the milk, which rises in cream. It is mentioned in the very earliest history, and the craving for it seems to be universal. Abroad it is eaten without salt; but to keep it well, salt is a necessity, and its absence soon allows the development of a rank and unpleasant odor. In other words, butter without it becomes rancid; and if any particle of whey is allowed to remain in it, the same effect takes place. Perfect butter is golden in color, waxy in consistency, and with a sweetness of odor quite indescribable, yet unmistakable to the trained judge of butter. It possesses the property of absorption of odors in a curious degree; and if shut in a tight closet or a refrigerator with fish, meat, or vegetables of rank or even pronounced smell, exchanges its own delicate aroma for theirs, and reaches us bereft once for all of what is the real charm of perfect butter. For this reason absolute cleanliness and daintiness of vessels containing milk or cream, or used in any way in the manufacture of butter, is one of the first laws of the dairy. _Ghee_, the East-Indian form of butter, is simply fresh butter clarified by melting, and is used as a dressing for the meal of rice. Butter, though counted as a pure fat, is in reality made up of at least six fatty principles, there being sixty-eight per cent of margarine and thirty per cent of oleine, the remainder being volatile compounds of fatty acids. In the best specimens of butter there is a slight amount of caseine, not over five per cent at most, though in poor there is much more. It is the only fat which may be constantly eaten without harm to the stomach, though if not perfectly good it becomes an irritant. The _Drippings_ of roasted meat, more especially of beef, rank next in value; and _Lard_ comes last on the list, its excessive use being a serious evil. Eaten constantly, as in pastry or the New-England doughnut, it is not only indigestible, but becomes the source of forms of scrofulous disease. It is often a convenient substitute for butter, but if it must be used, would better be in connection with the harmless fat. Eggs come last; and as a young animal is developed from them, it follows that they contain all that is necessary for animal life, though in the case of the chicken the shell also is used, all the earthy matter being absorbed. In a hundred parts are found fourteen of nitrogen, ten and a half of fatty matter, one and a half of saline matter, and seventy-four of water. Of this water the largest part is contained in the white, which is almost pure albumen, each particle of albumen being enclosed in very thin-walled cells; it is the breaking of these cells and the admission of air that enables one to beat the white of egg to a stiff froth. The fat is accumulated in the yolk, often amounting to thirty per cent. Raw and lightly-boiled eggs are easy of digestion, but hard-boiled ones decidedly not so. An egg loses its freshness within a day or so. The shell is porous; and the always-feeding and destroying oxygen of the air quickly gains admission, causing a gradual decomposition. To preserve them, they must be coated with lard or gum, or packed in either salt or oats, points down. In this way they keep good a long time, and while hardly desirable to eat as boiled eggs, answer for many purposes in cooking. CHAPTER XI. THE CHEMISTRY OF VEGETABLE FOOD. We come now to the vegetable kingdom, the principal points that we are to consider arranging themselves somewhat as follows:-- Farinaceous seeds, Oleaginous seeds, Leguminous seeds, Tubers and roots, Herbaceous articles, Fruits, Saccharine and farinaceous preparations. Under the first head, that of farinaceous seeds, are included wheat, rye, oats, Indian corn, rice, and a variety of less-known grains, all possessing in greater or less degree the same constituents. It will be impossible to more than touch upon many of them; and wheat must stand as the representative, being the best-known and most widely used of all grains. Each one is made up of nitrogenous compounds, gluten, albumen, caseine, and fibrine, gluten being the most valuable. Starch, dextrine, sugar, and cellulose are also found; fatty matter, which gives the characteristic odor of grain; mineral substances, as phosphates of lime and magnesia, salts of potash and soda, and silica, which we shall shortly mention again. _Hard Wheat_, or that grown in hot climates and on fertile soil, has much more nitrogen than that of colder countries. In hard wheat, in a hundred parts, twenty-two will be of nitrogen, fifty-nine starch, ten dextrine, &c, four cellulose, two and a half of fatty matter, and three of mineral, thus giving many of the constituents found in animal food. This wheat is taken as bread, white or brown, biscuits, crackers, various preparations of the grain whether whole or crushed, and among the Italians as _macaroni_, the most condensed form of cereal food. The best macaroni is made from the red wheat grown along the Mediterranean Sea, a hot summer and warm climate producing a grain, rich, as already mentioned, in nitrogen, and with a smaller proportion of water than farther north. The intense though short summer of our own far North-west seems to bring somewhat the same result, but the outer husk is harder. This husk was for years considered a necessity in all really nutritious bread; and a generation of vegetarians taking their name from Dr. Graham, and known as Grahamites, conceived the idea of living upon the wheaten flour in which husk and kernel were ground together. Now, to stomachs and livers brought to great grief by persistent pie and doughnuts and some other New-England wickednesses, these husks did a certain office of stimulation, stirring up jaded digestions, and really seeming to arrest or modify long-standing dyspepsia. But they did not know what we do, that this outer husk is a layer of pure silica, one of the hardest of known minerals. Boil it six weeks, and it comes out unchanged. Boil it six years, or six centuries, and the result would be the same. You can not stew a grindstone or bring granite to porridge, and the wheat-husk is equally obstinate. So long as enthusiasts ate husk and kernel ground together, little harm was done. But when a more progressive soul declared that in bran alone the true nutriment lay, and a host of would-be healthier people proceeded to eat bran and preach bran, there came a time when eating and preaching both stopped, from sheer want of strength to go on. The enthusiasts were literally starving themselves to death--for starvation is by no means mere deprivation of food: on the contrary, a man may eat heartily to the day of his death, and feel no inconvenience, so far as any protest of the stomach is concerned, yet the verdict of the wise physician would be, "Died of starvation." If the food was unsuitable, and could not be assimilated, this was inevitable. Blood, muscle, nerve--each must have its fitting food; and thus it is easy to see why knowledge is the first condition of healthful living. The moral is: Never rashly experiment in diet till sure what you are about, and, if you can not for yourselves find out the nature of your projected food, call upon some one who can. Where wheat is ground whole, it includes six and a half parts of heat-producers to one of flesh-formers. The amount of starch varies greatly. Two processes of making flour are now in use,--one the old, or St. Louis process; the other, the "new process," giving Haxall flour. In the former, grindstones were used, which often reached so great a degree of heat as to injure the flour; and repeated siftings gave the various grades. In the new, the outer husk is rejected, and a system of knives is used, which chop the grain to powder, and it is claimed do not heat it. The product is more starchy, and for this reason less desirable. We eat far too much heat-producing food, and any thing which gives us the gluten of the grain is more wholesome, and thus "seconds" is really a more nutritious flour than the finer grades. Try for yourselves a small experiment, and you will learn the nature of flour better than in pages of description. Take a little flour; wet it with cold water enough to form a dough. Place it on a sieve, and, while working it with one hand, pour a steady stream of water over it with another. Shortly you will find a grayish, tough, elastic lump before you, while in the pan below, when the water is carefully poured off, will be pure wheat-starch, the water itself containing all the sugar, dextrine or gum, and mineral matter. This toughness and elasticity of gluten is an important quality; for in bread-making, were it not for the gluten, the carbonic-acid gas formed by the action of yeast on dough would all escape. But, though it works its way out vigorously enough to swell up each cell, the gluten binds it fast, and enables us to have a panful of light "sponge," where a few hours before was only a third of a pan. Starch, as you have seen, will not dissolve in the cold water. Dry it, after the water is poured on, and minute grains remain. Look at these grains under a microscope, and each one is cased in a thick skin, which cold water can not dissolve. In boiling water, the skins crack, and the inside swells and becomes gummy. Long boiling is thus an essential for all starchy foods. Bread proper is simply flour, water, and salt, mixed to a firm dough and baked. Such bread as this, Abram gave to his angelic guests, and at this day the Bedouin Arab bakes it on his heated stone. But bread, as we understand it, is always lightened by the addition of yeast or some form of baking-powder, yeast making the most wholesome as well as most palatable bread. Carbonic-acid gas is the active agent required; and yeast so acts upon the little starch-granules, which the microscope shows as forming the finest flour, that this gas is formed and evenly distributed through the whole dough. The process is slow, and in the action some of the natural sweetness of the flour is lost. In what is known as aërated bread, the gas made was forced directly into the dough, by means of a machine invented for the purpose; and a very scientific and very good bread it is. But it demands an apparatus not to be had save at great expense, and the older fashions give a sufficiently sweet and desirable bread. _Rye_ and _Indian Corn_ form the next best-known varieties of flour in bread-making; but barley and oats are also used, and beans, pease, rice, chestnuts, in short, any farinaceous seed, or legume rich in starch, can fill the office. _Oatmeal_ may take rank as one of the best and most digestible forms of farinaceous food. Some twenty-eight per cent of the grain is husk, seventy-two being kernel; and this kernel forms a meal containing twelve parts of nitrogenous matter, sixty-three of carbo-hydrates, five and a half of fatty matter, three of saline, and fifteen of water. So little gluten is found, that the flour of oats can not be made into loaves of bread; although, mixed and baked as thin cakes, it forms a large part of the Scotchman's food. It requires thorough cooking, and is then slightly laxative and very easily digested. _Buckwheat_ is very rich in nitrogenous substances, and as we eat it, in the form of cakes with butter and sirup, so heating a food, as to be only suitable for hard workers in cold weather. Indian corn has also a very small proportion of gluten, and thus makes a bread which crumbles too readily. But it is the favorite form of bread, not only for South and West in our own country, but in Spanish America, Southern Europe, Germany, and Ireland. It contains a larger amount of fatty matter than any other grain, this making it a necessity in fattening animals. In a hundred parts are eleven of nitrogen, sixty-five of carbo-hydrates, eight of fatty matter, one and a half of saline, and fourteen of water. The large amount of fatty matter makes it difficult to keep much meal on hand, as it grows rancid and breeds worms; and it is best that it should be ground in small quantities as required. _Rice_ abounds in starch. In a hundred parts are found seven and a half of nitrogen, eighty-eight of starch, one of dextrine, eight-tenths of fatty matter, one of cellulose, and nine-tenths of mineral matter. Taken alone it can not be called a nutritive food; but eaten with butter or milk and eggs, or as by the East Indians in curry, it holds an important place. We come now to OLEAGINOUS SEEDS; nuts, the cocoanut, almonds, &c, coming under this head. While they are rich in oil, this very fact makes them indigestible, and they should be eaten sparingly. _Olive-oil_ must find mention here. No fat of either the animal or vegetable kingdom surpasses this in delicacy and purity. Palm-oil fills its place with the Asiatics in part; but the olive has no peer in this respect, and we lose greatly in our general distaste for this form of food. The liking for it should be encouraged as decidedly as the liking for butter. It is less heating, more soothing to the tissues, and from childhood to old age its liberal use prevents many forms of disease, as well as equalizes digestion in general. LEGUMINOUS SEEDS are of more importance, embracing as they do the whole tribe of beans, pease, and lentils. Twice as much nitrogen is found in beans as in wheat; and they rank so near to animal food, that by the addition of a little fat they practically can take its place. Bacon and beans have thus been associated for centuries, and New England owes to Assyria the model for the present Boston bean-pot. In the best table-bean, either Lima or the butter-bean, will be found in a hundred parts, thirty of nitrogen, fifty-six of starch, one and a half of cellulose, two of fatty matter, three and a half of saline, and eight and a half of water. The proportion of nitrogen is less in pease, but about the same in lentils. The chestnut also comes under this head, and is largely eaten in Spain and Italy, either boiled, or dried and ground into flour. TUBERS and ROOTS follow, and of these the _Potato_ leads the van. Low as you may have noticed their standing on the food-table to be, they are the most economical and valuable of foods, combining as well with others, and as little cloying to the palate, as bread itself. Each pound of potatoes contains seven hundred and seventy grains of carbon, and twenty-four grains of nitrogen; each pound of wheat-flour, two thousand grains of carbon, and one hundred and twenty of nitrogen. But the average cost of the pound of potatoes is but one cent; that of the pound of wheat, four. It is obtainable at all seasons, and thus invaluable as a permanent store, though best in the winter. Spring, the germinating season, diminishes its nutritive value. New potatoes are less nutritious than older ones, and in cooking, if slightly underdone, are said to satisfy the appetite better; this being the reason why the laboring classes prefer them, as they say, "with a bone in them." In a hundred parts are found but two of nitrogen, eighteen of starch, three of sugar, two-tenths of fat, seven-tenths of saline matter, and seventy-five parts of water. The _Sweet-potato_, _Yam_, and _Artichoke_ are all of the same character. Other _Tubers_, the _Turnip_, _Beet_, _Carrot_, and _Parsnip_, are in ordinary use. The turnip is nine-tenths water, but possesses some valuable qualities. The beet, though also largely water, has also a good deal of sugar, and is excellent food. Carrots and parsnips are much alike in composition. Carrots are generally rejected as food, but properly cooked are very appetizing, their greatest use, however, being in soups and stews. HERBACEOUS ARTICLES follow; and, though we are not accustomed to consider _Cabbage_ as an herb, it began existence as cole-wort, a shrub or herb on the south coast of England. Cultivation has developed it into a firm round head; and as a vegetable, abounding as it does in nitrogen, it ranks next to beans as a food. _Cauliflower_ is a very delicate and highly prized form of cabbage, but cabbage itself can be so cooked as to strongly resemble it. _Onions_ are next in value, being much milder and sweeter when grown in a warm climate, but used chiefly as a flavoring. _Lettuce_ and _Celery_ are especially valuable; the former for salads, the latter to be eaten without dressing though it is excellent cooked. _Tomatoes_ are really a fruit, though eaten as a vegetable, and are of especial value as a cooling food. Egg-plant, cucumbers, &c., all demand space; and so with edible fungi, mushrooms, and truffles, the latter the property of the epicure, and really not so desirable as that fact would indicate. FRUITS are last in order; and among these stands first of all the apple. While in actual analysis fruits have less nutritive value than vegetables, their acids and salts give to them the power of counteracting the unhealthy states brought about by the long use of dried or salted provisions. They are a corrective also of the many evils arising from profuse meat-eating, the citric acid of lemons and grape-fruit being an antidote to rheumatic and gouty difficulties. Cold storage now enables one to command grapes long after their actual season has ended, and they are invaluable food. The brain-worker is learning to depend more and more on fruit in all its forms; and apples lead the list, containing more solid nutriment than any other form. While considered less digestible raw than baked, they are still one of the most attractive, life-giving forms of food, and if eaten daily would prove a standard antidote to patent medicine. The list of fruits is too long for mention here; but all have their specific uses, and are necessary to perfect health. SUGAR and HONEY follow in the stores of the vegetable kingdom. Cane-sugar and glucose, or grape-sugar, are the two recognized varieties, though the making of beet-sugar has become an industry here as well as in France. Grape-sugar requires to be used in five times the amount of cane, to secure the same degree of sweetness. Honey also is a food,--a concentrated solution of sugar, mixed with odorous, gummy, and waxy matters. It possesses much the same food value as sugar, and is easily digested. With the various FARINACEOUS PREPARATIONS, _Sago_, _Tapioca_,_ Arrow-root_, &c, the vegetable dietary ends. All are light, digestible foods, principally starchy in character, but with little nutriment unless united with milk or eggs. Their chief use is in the sick-room. Restricted as comment must be, each topic introduced will well reward study; and the story of each of these varied ingredients in cookery, if well learned, will give one an unsuspected range of thought, and a new sense of the wealth that may be hidden in very common things. CHAPTER XII. CONDIMENTS AND BEVERAGES. Condiments are simply seasoning or flavoring agents, and, though hardly coming under the head of food, yet have an important part to play. As food by their use is rendered more tempting, a larger amount is consumed, and thus a delicate or uncertain appetite is often aided. In some cases they have the power of correcting the injurious character of some foods. Salt stands foremost. Vinegar, lemon-juice, and pickles owe their value to acidity; while mustard, pepper black and red, ginger, curry-powder, and horse-radish all depend chiefly upon pungency. Under the head of aromatic condiments are ranged cinnamon, nutmegs, cloves, allspice, mint, thyme, fennel, sage, parsley, vanilla, leeks, onions, shallots, garlic, and others, all of them entering into the composition of various sauces in general use. Salt is the one thing indispensable. The old Dutch law condemned criminals to a diet of unsalted food, the effects being said to be those of the severest physical torture. Years ago an experiment tried near Paris demonstrated the necessity of its use. A number of cattle were fed without the ration of salt; an equal number received it regularly. At the end of a specified time, the unsalted animals were found rough of coat, the hair falling off in spots, the eyes wild, and the flesh hardly half the amount of those naturally fed. A class of extreme Grahamites in this country decry the use of salt, as well as of any form of animal food; and I may add that the expression of their thought in both written and spoken speech is as savorless as their diet. Salt exists, as we have already found, in the blood: the craving for it is a universal instinct, even buffaloes making long journeys across the plains to the salt-licks; and its use not only gives character to insipid food, but increases the flow of the gastric juice. Black pepper, if used profusely as is often done in American cooking, becomes an irritant, and produces indigestion. Red pepper, or cayenne, on the contrary, is a useful stimulant at times; but, as with mustard, any over-use irritates the lining of the stomach. So with spices and sweet herbs. There should be only such use of them as will flavor well, delicately, and almost imperceptibly. No one flavor should predominate, and only a sense of general savoriness rule. Extracts, as of vanilla, lemon, bitter almond, &c., should be used with the greatest care, and if possible always be added to an article after it cools, as the heat wastes the strength. BEVERAGES. Tea and coffee are the most universal drinks, after water. The flavor of both is due to a principle, _theine_ in tea, _caffeine_ in coffee, in which both the good and the ill effects of these drinks are bound up. It is hardly necessary the principles should have different names, as they have been found by chemists to be identical; the essential spirit of cocoa and chocolate,--_theobromine_,--though not identical, having many of the same properties. _Tea_ is valuable chiefly for its warming and comforting qualities. Taken in moderation, it acts partly as a sedative, partly as a stimulant, arresting the destruction of tissue, and seeming to invigorate the whole nervous system. The water in it, even if impure, is made wholesome by boiling, and the milk and sugar give a certain amount of real nourishment. Nervous headaches are often cured by it, and it has, like coffee, been used as an antidote in opium-poisoning. Pass beyond the point of moderation, and it becomes an irritant, precisely in the same way that an overdose of morphine will, instead of putting to sleep, for just so much longer time prevent any sleep at all. The woman who can not eat, and who braces her nerves with a cup of green tea,--the most powerful form of the herb,--is doing a deeper wrong than she may be able to believe. The immediate effect is delightful. Lightness, exhilaration, and sense of energy are all there; but the re-action comes surely, and only a stronger dose next time accomplishes the end desired. Nervous headaches, hysteria in its thousand forms, palpitations, and the long train of nervous symptoms, own inordinate tea and coffee drinking as their parent. Taken in reasonable amounts, tea can not be said to be hurtful; and the medium qualities, carefully prepared, often make a more wholesome tea than that of the highest price, the harmful properties being strongest in the best. If the water is soft, it should be used as soon as boiled, boiling causing all the gases which give flavor to water to escape. In hard water, boiling softens it. In all cases the water must be fresh, and poured boiling upon the proper portion of tea,--the teapot having first been well scalded with boiling water. Never boil any tea but English-breakfast tea; for all others, simple steeping gives the drink in perfection. A disregard of these rules gives one the rank, black, unpleasant infusion too often offered as tea; while, if boiled in tin, it becomes a species of slow poison,--the tannic acid in the tea acting upon the metal, and producing a chemical compound whose character it is hard to determine. Various other plants possess the essential principle of tea, and are used as such; as in Paraguay, where the Brazilian holly is dried, and makes a tea very exhilarating in quality, but much more astringent. The use of _Coffee_ dates back even farther than that of tea. Of the many varieties, Mocha and Java are finest in flavor, and a mixture of one-third Mocha with two-thirds Java gives the drink at its best. As in tea, there are three chief constituents: (1) A volatile oil, giving the aroma it possesses, but less in amount than that in tea. (2) Astringent matter,--a modification of tannin, but also less than in tea. (3) Caffeine, now found identical with theine, but varying in amount in different varieties of coffee,--being in some three or four per cent, in others less. The most valuable property of coffee is its power of relieving the sensation of hunger and fatigue. To the soldier on active service, nothing can take its place; and in our own army it became the custom often, not only to drink the infusion, but, if on a hard march, to eat the grounds also. In all cases it diminishes the waste of tissue. In hot weather it is too heating and stimulating, acting powerfully upon the liver, and, by producing over-activity of that organ, bringing about a general disturbance. So many adulterations are found in ground coffee, that it is safest for the real coffee-lover to buy the bean whole. Roasting is usually more perfectly done at the grocers', in their rotary roasters, which give every grain its turn; but, by care and constant stirring, it can be accomplished at home. Too much boiling dissipates the delicious aroma we all know; and the best methods are considered to be those which allow no boiling, after boiling water has been poured upon it, but merely a standing, to infuse and settle. The old fashion, however, of mixing with an egg, and boiling a few minutes, makes a coffee hardly inferior in flavor. In fact, the methods are many, but results, under given conditions, much the same; and we may choose urn, or old-fashioned tin pot, or a French biggin, with the certainty that good coffee, well roasted, boiling water, and good judgment as to time, will give always a delicious drink. Make a note of the fact that long boiling sets free tannic acid, powerful enough to literally tan the coats of the stomach, and bring on incurable dyspepsia. Often coffee without milk can be taken, where, with milk, it proves harmful; but, in all cases, moderation must rule. Taken too strong, palpitation of the heart, vertigo, and fainting are the usual consequences. _Cocoa_, or, literally, cacao, from the cacao-tree, comes in the form of a thick seed, twenty or thirty of which make up the contents of a gourd-like fruit, the spaces between being filled with a somewhat acid pulp. The seeds, when freed from this pulp by various processes, are first dried in the sun, and then roasted; and from these roasted seeds come various forms of cocoa. _Cocoa-shells_ are the outer husk, and by long boiling yield a pleasant and rather nutritious drink. Cocoa itself is the nut ground to powder, and sometimes mixed with sugar, the husk being sometimes ground with it. In _Chocolate_--a preparation of cocoa--the cocoa is carefully dried and roasted, and then ground to a smooth paste, the nuts being placed on a hot iron plate, and so keeping the oily matter to aid in forming a paste. Sugar and flavorings, as vanilla, are often added, and the whole pressed into cakes. The whole substance of the nut being used, it is exceedingly nutritious, and made more so by the milk and sugar added. Eaten with bread it forms not only a nourishing but a hearty meal; and so condensed is its form, that a small cake carried in traveling, and eaten with a cracker or two, will give temporarily the effect of a full meal. In a hundred parts of chocolate are found forty-eight of fatty matter or cocoa-butter, twenty-one of nitrogenous matter, four of theobromine, eleven of starch, three of cellulose, three of mineral matter, and ten of water; there being also traces of coloring matter, aromatic essence, and sugar. Twice as much nitrogenous, and twenty-five times as much fatty matter as wheaten flour, make it a valuable food, though the excess of fat will make it disagree with a very delicate stomach. _Alcohol_ is last upon our list, and scientific men are still uncertain whether or not it can in any degree be considered as a food; but we have no room for the various arguments for and against. You all know, in part at least, the effects of intemperance; and even the moderate daily drinker suffers from clouded mind, irritable nerves, and ruined digestion. This is not meant as an argument for total abstinence; but there are cases where such abstinence is the only rule. In an inherited tendency to drink, there is no other safe road; but to the man or woman who lives by law, and whose body is in the best condition, wine in its many forms is a permissible _occasional_ luxury, and so with beer and cider and the wide range of domestic drinks. In old age its use is almost essential, but always in moderation, individual temperament modifying every rule, and making the best knowledge an imperative need. A little alcoholic drink increases a delicate appetite: a great deal diminishes or takes it away entirely, and also hinders and in many cases stops digestion altogether. In its constant over-use the membranes of the stomach are gradually destroyed, and every organ in the body suffers. In ales and beers there is not only alcohol, but much nitrogenous and sugary matter, very fattening in its nature. A light beer, well flavored with hops, is an aid to digestion, but taken in excess produces biliousness. The long list of alcoholic products it is not necessary to give, nor is it possible to enter into much detail regarding alcohol itself; but there are one or two points so important that they can not be passed by. You will recall in a preceding chapter the description of the circulation of the blood, and of its first passage through veins and arteries for cleansing, before a second round could make it food for the whole complex nervous system. Alcohol taken in excess, it has been proved in countless experiments by scientific men, possesses the power of coagulating the blood. The little corpuscles adhere in masses, and cannot force themselves through the smaller vessels, and circulation is at once hindered. This, however, is the secondary stage. At first, as many of you have had occasion to notice, the face flushes, the eyes grow brighter, and thought and word both come more freely. The heart beats far more rapidly, and the speed increases in proportion to the amount of alcohol absorbed. The average number of beats of the heart, allowing for its slower action during sleep, is 100,000 beats per day. Under a small supply of alcohol this rose to 127,000, and in actual intoxication to 131,000. The flush upon the cheek is only a token of the same fact within; every organ is congested. The brain has been examined under such circumstances, and "looked as if injected with vermilion ... the membrane covering both brains resembling a delicate web of coagulated red blood, so tensely were its fine vessels engorged." At a later stage the muscular power is paralyzed, the rule of mind over body suspended, and a heavy, brutal sleep comes, long or short according to the amount taken. This is the extreme of alcoholism, and death the only ending to it, as a habitual condition. Alcohol seems a necessary evil; for that its occasional beneficence can modify or neutralize the long list of woe and crime and brutality following in its train, is more than doubtful. "Whatever good can come from alcohol, or whatever evil, is all included in that primary physiological and luxurious action of the agent upon the nervous supply of the circulation.... If it be really a luxury for the heart to be lifted up by alcohol, for the blood to course more swiftly through the brain, for the thoughts to flow more vehemently, for words to come more fluently, for emotions to rise ecstatically, and for life to rush on beyond the pace set by nature; then those who enjoy the luxury must enjoy it--with the consequences." And now, at the end of our talks together, friends, there is yet another word. Much must remain unsaid in these narrow limits; but they are wide enough, I hope, to have given the key by which you may find easy entrance to the mysteries we all may know, indeed must, if our lives are truly lived. If through intemperance, in meat or drink, in feeling or thought, you lessen bodily or mental power, you alone are accountable, whether ignorant or not. Only in a never-failing self-control can safety ever be. Temperance is the foundation of high living; and here is its definition, by one whose own life holds it day by day:-- "Temperance is personal cleanliness; is modesty; is quietness; is reverence for one's elders and betters; is deference to one's mother and sisters; is gentleness; is courage; is the withholding from all which leads to excess in daily living; is the eating and drinking only of that which will insure the best body which the best soul is to inhabit: nay, temperance is all these, and more." _PART II._ STOCK AND SEASONING. The preparation called STOCK is for some inscrutable reason a stumbling-block to average cooks, and even by experienced housekeepers is often looked upon as troublesome and expensive. Where large amounts of fresh meat are used in its preparation, the latter adjective might be appropriate; but stock in reality is the only mode by which every scrap of bone or meat, whether cooked or uncooked, can be made to yield the last particle of nourishment contained in it. Properly prepared and strained into a stone jar, it will keep a week, and is as useful in the making of hashes and gravies as in soup itself. The first essential is a tightly-covered kettle, either tinned iron or porcelain-lined, holding not less than two gallons; three being a preferable size. Whether cooked or uncooked meat is used, it should be cut into small bits, and all bones broken or sawn into short pieces, that the marrow may be easily extracted. To every pound of meat and bone allow one quart of cold water, one even teaspoon of salt, and half a saltspoon of pepper. Let the meat stand till the water is slightly colored with its juice; then put upon the fire, and let it come slowly to a boil, skimming off every particle of scum as it rises. The least neglect of this point will give a broth in which bits of dark slime float about, unpleasant to sight and taste. A cup of cold water, thrown in as the kettle boils, will make the scum rise more freely. Let it boil steadily, but very slowly, allowing an hour to each pound of meat. The water will boil away, leaving, at the end of the time specified, not more than half or one-third the original amount. In winter this will become a firm jelly, which can be used by simply melting it, thus obtaining a strong, clear broth; or can be diluted with an equal quantity of water, and vegetables added for a vegetable soup. The meat used in stock, if boiled the full length of time given, has parted with all its juices, and is therefore useless as food. If wanted for hashes or croquettes, the portion needed should be taken out as soon as tender, and a pint of the stock with it, to use as gravy. Strain, when done, into a stone pot or crock kept for the purpose, and, when cold, remove the cake of fat which will rise to the top. This fat, melted and strained, serves for many purposes better than lard. If the stock is to be kept several days, leave the fat on till ready to use it. Fresh and cooked meat may be used together, and all remains of poultry or game, and trimmings of chops and steaks, may be added, mutton being the only meat which can not as well be used in combination; though even this, by trimming off all the fat, may also be added. If it is intended to keep the stock for some days, no vegetables should be added, as vegetable juices ferment very easily. For clear soups they must be cooked with the meat; and directions will be given under that head for amounts and seasonings. The secret of a savory soup lies in many flavors, none of which are allowed to predominate; and, minutely as rules for such flavoring may be given, only careful and frequent _tasting_ will insure success. Every vegetable, spice, and sweet herb, curry-powders, catchups, sauces, dried or fresh lemon-peel, can be used; and the simple stock, by the addition of these various ingredients, becomes the myriad number of soups to be found in the pages of great cooking manuals like Gouffée's or Francatelli's. _Brown soups_ are made by frying the meat or game used in them till thoroughly brown on all sides, and using dark spices or sauces in their seasoning. _White soups_ are made with light meats, and often with the addition of milk or cream. _Purées_ are merely thick soups strained carefully before serving, and made usually of some vegetable which thickens in boiling, as beans, pease, &c, though there are several forms of fish _purées_ in which the foundation is thickened milk, to which the fish is added, and the whole then rubbed through a common sieve, if a regular purée-sieve is not to be had. Browned flour is often used for coloring, but does not thicken a soup, as, in browning it, the starchy portion has been destroyed; and it will not therefore mix, but settles at the bottom. Burned sugar or caramel makes a better coloring, and also adds flavor. With clear soups grated cheese is often served, either Parmesan or any rich cheese being used. Onions give a better flavor if they are fried in a little butter or dripping before using, and many professional cooks fry all soup vegetables lightly. Cabbage and potatoes should be parboiled in a separate water before adding to a soup. In using wine or catchup, add only at the last moment, as boiling dissipates the flavor. Unless a thick vegetable soup is desired, always strain into the tureen. Rice, sago, macaroni, or any cereal may be used as thickening; the amounts required being found under the different headings. Careful skimming, long boiling, and as careful removing of fat, will secure a broth especially desirable as a food for children and the old, but almost equally so for any age; while many fragments, otherwise entirely useless, discover themselves as savory and nutritious parts of the day's supply of food. * * * * * SOUPS. BEEP SOUP WITH VEGETABLES. For this very excellent soup take two quarts of stock prepared beforehand, as already directed. If the stock is a jelly, as will usually be the case in winter, an amount sufficient to fill a quart-measure can be diluted with a pint of water, and will then be rich enough. Add to this one small carrot, a turnip, a small parsnip, and two onions, all chopped fine; a cupful of chopped cabbage; two tablespoonfuls of barley or rice; and either six fresh tomatoes sliced, or a small can of sealed ones. Boil gently at least one hour; then add one saltspoonful each of pepper, curry-powder, and clove. If the stock has been salted properly, no more will be needed; but tasting is essential to secure just the right flavors. Boil a few minutes longer, and serve without straining. This is an especially savory and hearty soup, and the combinations of vegetables may be varied indefinitely. A cup of chopped celery is an exceedingly nice addition, or, if this is not to be had, a teaspoonful of celery salt, or a saltspoonful of celery-seed. A lemon may also be sliced thin, and added at the last. Where tomatoes are used, a little sugar is always an improvement; in this case an even tablespoonful being sufficient. If a thicker broth is desired, one heaped tablespoonful of corn-starch or flour may be first dissolved in a little cold water; then a cup of the hot broth gradually mixed with it, and the whole added to the soup and boiled for five minutes. CLEAR OR AMBER SOUP. This soup needs careful attention. It may be made of beef alone, but, if desired very rich for a special dinner, requires the addition of either a chicken or a knuckle of veal. Allow, then, for the best soup, a soup-bone,--the shin of beef being most desirable,--weighing from two to three pounds; a chicken; a slice of fat ham; two onions, each stuck with three cloves; one small carrot and parsnip; one stalk of celery; one tablespoonful of salt; half a saltspoonful of pepper; and four quarts of cold water. Cut all the meat from the beef bone in small pieces; slice the onions; fry the ham (or, if preferred, a thick slice of salt pork weighing not less than two ounces); fry the onions a bright brown in this fat; add the pieces of beef, and brown them also. Now put all the materials, bones included, into the soup-kettle; add the cold water, and let it very gradually come to a boil. Skim with the utmost care, and then boil slowly and steadily for not less than five hours, six or even seven being preferable. Strain, and set in a cold place. Next day remove the fat, and put the soup on the fire one hour before it will be wanted. Break the white and shell of an egg into a bowl; add a spoonful of cold water, and beat a moment; add a little of the hot soup, that the white may mix more thoroughly with the soup, and then pour it into the kettle. Let all boil slowly for ten minutes; then strain, either through a jelly-bag, or through a thick cloth laid in a sieve or colander. Do not stir, as this would cloud the soup; and, if not clear and sparkling, strain again. Return to the fire, and heat to boiling-point, putting a lemon cut in thin slices, and, if liked, a glass of sherry, into the tureen before serving. A poached egg, or a boiled egg from which the shell has been peeled, is often served with each plate of this soup, which must be clear to deserve its name. WHITE SOUP. Veal or chicken must be used for this soup; and the stock must always be prepared the day beforehand, having been flavored with two chopped onions and a cup of cut celery, or celery-seed and other seasoning, in the proportions already given. On the day it is to be used, heat a quart of milk; stir one tablespoonful of butter to a cream; add a heaping tablespoonful of flour or corn-starch, a saltspoonful of mace, and the same amount of white pepper. Stir into the boiling milk, and add to the soup. Let all boil a moment, and then pour into the tureen. Three eggs, beaten very light and stirred into the hot milk without boiling, make a still richer soup. The bones of cold roast chicken or turkey may be used in this way; and the broth of any meat, if perfectly clear, can serve as foundation, though veal or chicken is most delicate. MOCK TURTLE SOUP. A calf's head is usually taken for this soup; but a set of calf's feet and a pound of lean veal answer equally well. In either case, boil the meat in four quarts of water for five hours, reducing the amount to two quarts, and treating as stock for clear soup. Remove all fat, and put on the fire next day, half an hour before dinner, seasoning it with a saltspoonful each of mace, powdered thyme, or sweet marjoram and clove. Melt a piece of butter the size of a walnut in a small saucepan; add a heaping tablespoonful of flour, and stir both till a bright brown. Add soup till a smooth thickening is made, and pour it into the soup-kettle. Cut about half a pound of the cold meat into small square pieces,--_dice_ they are called,--and put into the tureen. Make forcemeat balls by chopping a large cup of meat very fine; season with a saltspoonful each of pepper and thyme; mix in the yolk of a raw egg; make into little balls the size of a hickory-nut, and fry brown in a little butter. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon into the tureen with (or without) a wine-glass of sherry. Pour in the soup, and serve. If egg-balls are desired, make them of the yolks of two hard-boiled eggs rubbed fine. Add the yolk of a raw egg, a tablespoonful of melted butter, a saltspoon of salt and half a one of pepper, and flour enough to make a dough which can be easily handled. Roll out; cut into little dice, and make each into a ball by rolling between the palms of the hands. Boil five minutes in the soup. MUTTON BROTH. Prepare and boil as directed for stock. The broth from a boiled leg of mutton can be used, or any cheap pieces and trimmings from chops. One small turnip and an onion will give flavoring enough. On the day it is to be used, add to two quarts of broth half a cup of rice, and boil for half an hour. CHICKEN BROTH. Even an old fowl which is unusable in any other way makes excellent broth. Prepare as in any stock, and, when used, add a tablespoonful of rice to each quart of broth, boiling till tender. A white soup will be found the most savory mode of preparation, the plain broth with rice being best for children and invalids. TOMATO SOUP WITHOUT MEAT. Materials for this soup are: one large can, or twelve fresh tomatoes; one quart of boiling water; two onions; a small carrot; half a small turnip; two or three sprigs of parsley, or a stalk of celery,--all cut fine, and boiled one hour. As the water boils away, add more to it, so that the quantity may remain the same. Season with one even tablespoonful each of salt and sugar, and half a teaspoonful of pepper. Cream a tablespoonful of butter with two heaping ones of flour, and add hot soup till it will pour easily. Pour into the soup; boil all together for five minutes; then strain through a sieve, and serve with toasted crackers or bread. HASTY TOMATO SOUP. Simple but excellent. One large can of tomatoes and one pint of water brought to the boiling-point, and rubbed through a sieve. Return to the fire. Add half a teaspoonful of soda, and stir till it stops foaming. Season with one even tablespoonful of salt, two of sugar, one saltspoonful of cayenne. Thicken with two heaping tablespoonfuls of flour, and one of butter rubbed to a cream, with hot soup added till it pours easily. Boil a pint of milk separately, and, when ready to use, pour into the boiling tomato, and serve at once, as standing long makes the milk liable to curdle. OYSTER SOUP. Two quarts of perfectly fresh oysters. Strain off the juice, and add an equal amount of water, or, if they are solid, add one pint of water, and then strain and boil. Skim carefully. Add to one quart of milk one tablespoonful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of pepper, and, if thickening is liked, use same proportions as in hasty tomato soup, and set to boil. When the milk boils, put in the oysters. The moment the edges curl a little, which will be when they have boiled one minute, they are done, and should be served at once. Longer boiling toughens and spoils them. This rule may be used also for stewed oysters, omitting the thickening; or they may be put simply into the boiling juice, with the same proportions of butter, salt, and pepper, and cooked the same length of time. CLAM SOUP. Fifty clams (hard or soft), boiled in a quart of water one hour. Take out, and chop fine. Add one quart of milk, half a teaspoonful of pepper, and one teaspoonful of salt. It will be necessary to taste, however, as some clams are salter than others. Rub one tablespoonful of butter to a cream with two of flour, and use as thickening. Add the chopped clams, and boil five minutes. If the clams are disliked, simply strain through a sieve, or cut off the hard part and use the soft only. PUR�E, OF FISH, VEGETABLES, ETC. One pound of fresh boiled salmon, or one small can of the sealed. Pick out all bone and skin, and, if the canned is used, pour off every drop of oil. Shred it as fine as possible. Boil one quart of milk, seasoning with one teaspoonful of salt, and one saltspoonful each of mace and white pepper, increasing the amount slightly if more is liked. Thicken with two tablespoonfuls of flour, and one of butter rubbed to a cream, with a cup of boiling water; add thickening and salmon, and boil two minutes. Strain into the tureen through a purée sieve, rubbing as much as possible of the salmon through with a potato-masher, and _serve very hot_. All that will not go through can be mixed with an equal amount of cracker-crumbs or mashed potato, made into small cakes or rolls, and fried in a little butter for breakfast, or treated as croquettes, and served at dinner. This thickened milk is the foundation for many forms of fish and vegetable purées. A pint of green pease, boiled, mashed, and added; or asparagus or spinach in the same proportions can be used. _Lobster_ makes a purée as delicious as that of salmon. Dry the "coral" in the oven; pound it fine, and add to the milk before straining, thus giving a clear pink color. Cut all the meat and green fat into dice, and put into the tureen, pouring the hot milk upon it. Boiled _cod_ or _halibut_ can be used; but nothing is so nice as the salmon, either fresh or canned. For a _Purée of Celery_ boil one pint of cut celery in water till tender; then add to boiling milk, and rub through the sieve. For _Potato Purée_ use six large or ten medium sized potatoes, boiled and mashed fine; then stirred into the milk, and strained; a large tablespoonful of chopped parsley being put in the tureen. For a _Green-Corn Soup_ use the milk without straining; adding a can of corn, or the corn cut from six ears of fresh boiled corn, and an even tablespoonful of sugar, and boiling ten minutes. _Salsify_ can also be used, the combinations being numberless, and one's own taste a safe guide in making new ones. TURTLE-BEAN SOUP. Wash and soak over-night, in cold water, one pint of the black or turtle beans. In the morning put on the fire in three quarts of cold water, which, as it boils away, must be added to, to preserve the original quantity. Add quarter of a pound of salt pork and half a pound of lean beef; one carrot and two onions cut fine; one tablespoonful of salt; one saltspoonful of cayenne. Cover closely, and boil four or five hours. Rub through a colander, having first put in the tureen three hard-boiled eggs cut in slices, one lemon sliced thin, and half a glass of wine. This soup is often served with small sausages which have been boiled in it for ten minutes, and then skinned, and used either whole or cut in bits. Cold baked beans can also be used, in which case the meat, eggs, and wine are omitted. PEA SOUP. One quart of dried pease, washed and soaked over-night; split pease are best. In the morning put them on the fire with six quarts of cold water; half a pound of salt pork; one even tablespoonful of salt; one saltspoonful of cayenne; and one teaspoonful of celery-seed. Fry till a bright brown three onions cut small, and add to the pease; cover closely, and boil four or five hours. Strain through a colander, and, if not perfectly smooth, return to fire, and add a thickening made of one heaping teaspoonful of flour and an even one of butter, stirred together with a little hot water and boiled five minutes. Beans can be used in precisely the same way; and both bean and pea soups are nicer served with _croutons_, or a thick slice of bread cut in dice, and fried brown and crisp, or simply browned in the oven, and put into the tureen at the moment of serving. ONION SOUP. Take three large onions, slice them very thin, and then fry to a bright brown in a large spoonful of either butter or stock-fat, the latter answering equally well. When brown, add half a teacupful of flour, and stir constantly until red. Then pour in slowly one pint of boiling water, stirring steadily till it is all in. Boil and mash fine four large potatoes, and stir into one quart of boiling milk, taking care that there are no lumps. Add this to the fried onions, with one teaspoonful of salt and half a teaspoonful of white pepper. Let all boil for five minutes, and then serve with toasted or fried bread. Simple as this seems, it is one of the best of the vegetable soups, though it is made richer by the use of stock instead of water. BROWNED FLOUR FOR SOUPS. Put a pint of sifted flour into a perfectly clean frying-pan, and stir and turn constantly as it darkens, till the whole is an even dark brown. If scorched at all, it is ruined, and should not be used for any purpose. As a coloring for soups and gravies it is by no means as good as caramel or burned sugar. CARAMEL. Half a pound of brown sugar; one tablespoonful of water. Put into a frying-pan, and stir steadily over the fire till it becomes a deep dark brown in color. Then add one cup of boiling water and one teaspoonful of salt. Boil a minute longer, bottle, and keep corked. One tablespoonful will color a clear soup, and it can be used for many jellies, gravies, and sauces. * * * * * FISH. The most essential point in choosing fish is their _freshness_, and this is determined as follows: if the gills are red, the eyes prominent and full, and the whole fish stiff, they are good; but if the eyes are sunken, the gills pale, and the fish flabby, they are stale and unwholesome, and, though often eaten in this condition, lack all the fine flavor of a freshly-caught fish. The fish being chosen, the greatest care is necessary in cleaning. If this is properly done, one washing will be sufficient: the custom of allowing fresh fish to lie in water after cleaning, destroys much of their flavor. Fresh-water fish, especially the cat-fish, have often a muddy taste and smell. To get rid of this, soak in water strongly salted; say, a cupful of salt to a gallon of water, letting it heat gradually in this, and boiling it for one minute; then drying it thoroughly before cooking. All fish for boiling should be put into cold water, with the exception of salmon, which loses its color unless put into boiling water. A tablespoonful each of salt and vinegar to every two quarts of water improves the flavor of all boiled fish, and also makes the flesh firmer. Allow ten minutes to the pound after the fish begins to boil, and test with a knitting-needle or sharp skewer. If it runs in easily, the fish can be taken off. If a fish-kettle with strainer is used, the fish can be lifted out without danger of breaking. If not, it should be thoroughly dredged with flour, and served in a cloth kept for the purpose. In all cases drain it perfectly, and send to table on a folded napkin laid upon the platter. In frying, fish should, like all fried articles, be _immersed_ in the hot lard or drippings. Small fish can be fried whole; larger ones boned, and cut in small pieces. If they are egged and crumbed, the _egg_ will form a covering, hardening at once, and absolutely impervious to fat. Pan-fish, as they are called,--flounders and small fish generally,--can also be fried by rolling in Indian meal or flour, and browning in the fat of salt pork. Baking and broiling preserve the flavor most thoroughly. Cold boiled fish can always be used, either by spicing as in the rule to be given, or by warming again in a little butter and water. Cold fried or broiled fish, can be put in a pan, and set in the oven till hot, this requiring not over ten minutes; a longer time giving a strong, oily taste, which spoils it. Plain boiled or mashed potatoes are always served with fish where used as a dinner-course. If fish is boiled whole, do not cut off either tail or head. The tail can be skewered in the mouth if liked; or a large fish may be boiled in the shape of the letter S by threading a trussing-needle, fastening a string around the head, then passing the needle through the middle of the body, drawing the string tight and fastening it around the tail. BAKED FISH. Bass, fresh shad, blue-fish, pickerel, &c., can be cooked in this way:-- See that the fish has been properly cleaned. Wash in salted water, and wipe dry. For stuffing for a fish weighing from four to six pounds, take four large crackers, or four ounces of bread-crumbs; quarter of a pound of salt pork; one teaspoonful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of pepper; a tablespoonful of chopped parsley, or a teaspoonful of thyme. Chop half the pork fine, and mix with the crumbs and seasoning, using half a cup of hot water to mix them, or, if preferred, a beaten egg. Put this dressing into the body of the fish, which is then to be fastened together with a skewer. Cut the remainder of the pork in narrow strips, and lay it in gashes cut across the back of the fish about two inches apart. Dredge thickly with flour, using about two tablespoonfuls. Put a tin baking-sheet in the bottom of a pan, as without it the fish can not be easily taken up. Lay the fish on this; pour a cup of boiling water into the pan, and bake in a hot oven for one hour, basting it very often that the skin may not crack; and, at the end of half an hour, dredging again with flour, repeating this every ten minutes till the fish is done. If the water dries away, add enough to preserve the original quantity. When the fish is done, slide it carefully from the tin sheet on to a hot platter. Set the baking-pan on top of the stove. Mix a teaspoonful of flour with quarter of a cup of cold water, and stir into the boiling gravy. A tablespoonful of walnut or mushroom catchup, or of Worcestershire sauce, may be added if liked. _Serve very hot._ Before sending a baked fish to table, take out the skewer. When done, it should have a handsome brown crust. If pork is disliked, it may be omitted altogether, and a tablespoonful of butter substituted in the stuffing. Basting should be done as often as once in ten minutes, else the skin will blister and crack. Where the fish is large, it will be better to sew the body together after stuffing, rather than to use a skewer. The string can be cut and removed before serving. If any is left, it can be warmed in the remains of the gravy, or, if this has been used, make a gravy of one cup of hot water, thickened with one teaspoonful of flour or corn-starch stirred smooth first in a little cold water. Add a tablespoonful of butter and any catchup or sauce desired. Take all bones from the fish; break it up in small pieces, and stew not over five minutes in the gravy. Or it can be mixed with an equal amount of mashed potato or bread-crumbs, a cup of milk and an egg added, with a teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonful of pepper, and baked until brown--about fifteen minutes--in a hot oven. TO BOIL FISH. General directions have already been given. All fish must boil _very_ gently, or the outside will break before the inside is done. In all cases salt and a little vinegar, a teaspoonful each, are allowed to each quart of water. Where the fish has very little flavor, Dubois' receipt for boiling will be found exceedingly nice, and much less trouble than the name applied by professional cooks to this method--_au court bouillon_--would indicate. It is as follows:-- Mince a carrot, an onion, and one stalk of celery, and fry them in a little butter. Add two or three sprigs of parsley, two tablespoonfuls of salt, six pepper-corns, and three cloves. Pour on two quarts of boiling water and one pint of vinegar, and boil for fifteen minutes. Skim as it boils, and use, when cold, for boiling the fish. Wine can be used instead of vinegar; and, by straining carefully and keeping in a cold place, the same mixture can be used several times. TO BROIL FISH. If the fish is large, it should be split, in order to insure its being cooked through; though notches may be cut at equal distances, so that the heat can penetrate. Small fish may be broiled whole. The gridiron should be well greased with dripping or olive oil. If a double-wire gridiron is used, there will be no trouble in turning either large or small fish. If a single-wire or old-fashioned iron one, the best way is to first loosen with a knife any part that sticks; then, holding a platter over the fish with one hand, turn the gridiron with the other, and the fish can then be returned to it without breaking. Small fish require a hot, clear fire; large ones, a more moderate one, that the outside may not be burned before the inside is done. Cook always with the _skin-side_ down at first, and broil to a golden brown,--this requiring, for small fish, ten minutes; for large ones, from ten to twenty, according to size. When done, pepper and salt lightly; and to a two-pound fish allow a tablespoonful of butter spread over it. Set the fish in the oven a moment, that the butter may soak in, and then serve. A teaspoonful of chopped parsley, and half a lemon squeezed over shad or any fresh fish, is a very nice addition. Where butter, lemon, and parsley are blended beforehand, it makes the sauce known as _maître d'hôtel_ sauce, which is especially good for broiled shad. In broiling steaks or cutlets of large fish,--say, salmon, halibut, fresh cod, &c.,--the same general directions apply. Where very delicate broiling is desired, the pieces of fish can be wrapped in buttered paper before laying on the gridiron; this applying particularly to salmon. TO FRY FISH. Small fish--such as trout, perch, smelts, &c.--may simply be rolled in Indian meal or flour, and fried either in the fat of salt pork, or in boiling lard or drippings. A nicer method, however, with fish, whether small or in slices, is to dip them first in flour or fine crumbs, then in beaten egg,--one egg, with two tablespoonfuls of cold water and half a teaspoonful of salt, being enough for two dozen smelts; then rolling again in crumbs or meal, and dropping into hot lard. The egg hardens instantly, and not a drop of fat can penetrate the inside. Fry to a golden brown. Take out with a skimmer; lay in the oven on a double brown paper for a moment, and then serve. _Filets_ of fish are merely flounders, or any flat fish with few bones, boned, skinned, and cut in small pieces; then egged and fried. To bone a fish of this sort, use a very sharp knife. The fish should have been scaled, but not cleaned or cut open. Make a cut down the back from head to tail. Now, holding the knife pressed close to the bone, cut carefully till the fish is free on one side; then turn, and cut away the other. To skin, take half the fish at a time firmly in one hand; hold the blade of the knife flat as in boning, and run it slowly between skin and flesh. Cut the fish in small diamond-shaped pieces; egg, crumb, and put into shape with the knife; and then fry. The operation is less troublesome than it sounds, and the result most satisfactory. The _bones and trimmings_ remaining can either be stewed in a pint of water till done, adding half a teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful of pepper, and a tablespoonful of catchup; straining the gravy off, and thickening with one heaping teaspoonful of flour dissolved in a little cold water: or they can be broiled. For broiled bones, mix one saltspoonful of mustard, as much cayenne as could be taken up on the point of a penknife, a saltspoonful of salt, and a tablespoonful of vinegar. A tablespoonful of olive-oil may be added, if liked. Lay the bone in this, turning it till all is absorbed; broil over a quick fire; and _serve very hot_. Fish may also be fried in batter (p. 182), or these pieces, or _filets_, may be laid on a buttered dish; a simple drawn butter or cream sauce (p. 182) poured over them; the whole covered with rolled bread or cracker-crumbs, dotted with bits of butter, and baked half an hour. A cup of canned mushrooms is often added. TO STEW FISH. Any fresh-water fish is good, cooked in this way; cat-fish which have been soaked in salted water, to take away the muddy taste, being especially nice. Cut the fish in small pieces. Boil two sliced onions in a cup of water. Pour off this water; add another cup, and two tablespoonfuls of wine, a saltspoonful of pepper, and salt to taste (about half a teaspoonful). Put in the fish, and cook for twenty minutes. Thicken the gravy with a heaping teaspoonful of flour, rubbed to a cream with a teaspoonful of butter. If wine is not used, add a sprig of chopped parsley and the juice of half a lemon. These methods will be found sufficient for all fresh fish, no other special rules being necessary. Experience and individual taste will guide their application. If the fish is oily, as in the case of mackerel or herring, broiling will always be better than frying. If fried, let it be with very little fat, as their own oil will furnish part. TO BOIL SALT CODFISH. The large, white cod, which cuts into firm, solid slices, should be used. If properly prepared, there is no need of the strong smell, which makes it so offensive to many, and which comes only in boiling. The fish is now to be had boned, and put up in small boxes, and this is by far the most desirable form. In either case, lay in tepid water _skin-side up_, and soak all night. If the skin is down, the salt, instead of soaking out, settles against it, and is retained. Change the water in the morning, and soak two or three hours longer; then, after scraping and cleaning thoroughly, put in a kettle with tepid water enough to well cover it, and set it where it will heat to the scalding-point, but _not boil_. Keep it at this point, but never let it boil a moment. Let it cook in this way an hour: two will do no harm. Remove every particle of bone and dark skin before serving, sending it to table in delicate pieces, none of which need be rejected. With egg sauce (p. 169), mashed or mealy boiled potatoes, and sugar-beets, this makes the New-England "fish dinner" a thing of terror when poorly prepared, but both savory and delicate where the above rule is closely followed. Fish-balls, and all the various modes of using salted cod, require this preparation beforehand. SALT COD WITH CREAM. Flake two pounds of cold boiled salt cod very fine. Boil one pint of milk. Mix butter the size of a small egg with two tablespoonfuls of flour, and stir into it. Add a few sprigs of parsley or half an onion minced very fine, a pinch of cayenne pepper, and half a teaspoonful of salt. Butter a quart pudding-dish. Put in alternate layers of dressing and fish till nearly full. Cover the top with sifted bread or cracker crumbs, dot with bits of butter, and brown in a quick oven about twenty minutes. The fish may be mixed with an equal part of mashed potato, and baked; and not only codfish, but any boiled _fresh_ fish, can be used, in which case double the measure of salt given will be required. SPICED FISH. Any remains of cold fresh fish may be used. Take out all bones or bits of skin. Lay in a deep dish, and barely cover with hot vinegar in which a few cloves and allspice have been boiled. It is ready for use as soon as cold. POTTED FISH. Fresh herring or mackerel or shad may be used. Skin the fish, and cut in small pieces, packing them in a small stone jar. Just cover with vinegar. For six pounds of fish allow one tablespoonful of salt, and a dozen each of whole allspice, cloves, and pepper-corns. Tie a thick paper over the top of the cover, and bake five hours. The vinegar dissolves the bones perfectly, and the fish is an excellent relish at supper. FISH CHOWDER. Three pounds of any sort of fresh fish may be taken; but fresh cod is always best. Six large potatoes and two onions, with half a pound of salt pork. Cut the pork into dice, and fry to a light brown. Add the onions, and brown them also. Pour the remaining fat into a large saucepan, or butter it, as preferred. Put in a layer of potatoes, a little onion and pork, and a layer of the fish cut in small pieces, salting and peppering each layer. A tablespoonful of salt and one teaspoonful of pepper will be a mild seasoning. A pinch of cayenne may be added, if liked. Barely cover with boiling water, and boil for half an hour. In the meantime boil a pint of milk, and, when at boiling-point, break into it three ship biscuit or half a dozen large crackers; add a heaping tablespoonful of butter. Put the chowder in a platter, and pile the softened crackers on top, pouring the milk over all. Or the milk may be poured directly into the chowder; the crackers laid in, and softened in the steam; and the whole served in a tureen. Three or four tomatoes are sometimes added. In clam chowder the same rule would be followed, substituting one hundred clams for the fish, and using a small can of tomatoes if fresh ones were not in season. STEWED OYSTERS. The rule already given for _oyster soup_ is an excellent one, omitting the thickening. A simpler one is to strain the juice from a quart of oysters, and add an equal amount of water. Bring it to boiling-point; skim carefully; season with salt to taste, this depending on the saltness of the oysters, half a teaspoonful being probably enough. Add a saltspoonful of pepper, a tablespoonful of butter, and a cup of milk. The milk may be omitted, if preferred. Add the oysters. Boil till the edges curl, and no longer. Serve at once, as they toughen by standing. FRIED OYSTERS. Choose large oysters, and drain thoroughly in a colander. Dry in a towel. Dip first in sifted cracker-crumbs; then in egg, one egg beaten with a large spoonful of cold water, half a teaspoonful of salt, and a saltspoonful of pepper, being enough for two dozen oysters. Roll again in crumbs, and drop into boiling lard. If a wire frying-basket is used, lay them in this. Fry to a light brown. Lay them on brown paper a moment to drain, and serve at once on a _hot platter_. As they require hardly more than a minute to cook, it is better to wait till all are at the table before beginning to fry. Oysters are very good, merely fried in a little hot butter; but the first method preserves their flavor best. SCALLOPED OYSTERS. One quart of oysters; one large breakfast cup of cracker or bread crumbs, the crackers being nicer if freshly toasted and rolled hot; two large spoonfuls of butter; one teaspoonful of salt; half a teaspoonful of pepper; one saltspoonful of mace. Mix the salt, pepper, and mace together. Butter a pudding-dish; heat the juice with the seasoning and butter, adding a teacup of milk or cream if it can be had, though water will answer. Put alternate layers of crumbs and oysters, filling the dish in this way. Pour the juice over, and bake in a quick oven twenty minutes. If not well browned, heat a shovel red-hot, and brown the top with that; longer baking toughening the oysters. OYSTERS FOR PIE OR PATTIES. One quart of oysters put on to boil in their own liquor. Turn them while boiling into a colander to drain. Melt a piece of butter the size of an egg in the saucepan, add a tablespoonful of sifted flour, and stir one minute. Pour in the oyster liquor slowly, which must be not less than a large cupful. Beat the yolks of two eggs thoroughly with a saltspoonful of salt, a pinch of cayenne pepper, and one of mace. Add to the boiling liquor, but do not let it boil. Put in the oysters, and either use them to fill a pie, the form for which is already baked, for patties for dinner, or serve them on thin slices of buttered toast for breakfast or tea. SPICED OR PICKLED OYSTERS. To a gallon of large, fine oysters, allow one pint of cider or white-wine vinegar; one tablespoonful of salt; one grated nutmeg; eight blades of mace; three dozen cloves, and as many whole allspice; and a saltspoon even full of cayenne pepper. Strain the oyster juice, and bring to the boiling-point in a porcelain-lined kettle. Skim carefully as it boils up. Add the vinegar, and skim also, throwing in the spices and salt when it has boiled a moment. Boil all together for five minutes, and then pour over the oysters, adding a lemon cut in very thin slices. They are ready for the table next day, but will keep a fortnight or more in a cold place. If a sharp pickle is desired, use a quart instead of a pint of vinegar. SMOTHERED OYSTERS (_Maryland fashion_). Drain all the juice from a quart of oysters. Melt in a frying-pan a piece of butter the size of an egg, with as much cayenne pepper as can be taken up on the point of a penknife, and a saltspoonful of salt. Put in the oysters, and cover closely. They are done as soon as the edges ruffle. Serve on thin slices of buttered toast as a breakfast or supper dish. A glass of sherry is often added. OYSTER OR CLAM FRITTERS. Chop twenty-five clams or oysters fine, and mix them with a batter made as follows: One pint of flour, in which has been sifted one heaping teaspoonful of baking-powder and half a teaspoonful of salt; one large cup of milk, and two eggs well beaten. Stir eggs and milk together; add the flour slowly; and, last, the clams or oysters. Drop by spoonfuls into boiling lard. Fry to a golden brown, and serve at once; or they may be fried like pancakes in a little hot fat. Whole clams or oysters may be used instead of chopped ones, and fried singly. TO BOIL LOBSTERS OR CRABS. Be sure that the lobster is alive, as, if dead, it will not be fit to use. Have water boiling in a large kettle, and, holding the lobster or crab by the back, drop it in head foremost; the reason for this being, that the animal dies instantly when put in in this way. An hour is required for a medium-sized lobster, the shell turning red when done. When cold, the meat can be used either plain or in salad, or cooked in various ways. A can-opener will be found very convenient in opening a lobster. STEWED OR CURRIED LOBSTER. Cut the meat into small bits, and add the green fat, and the coral which is found only in the hen-lobster. Melt in a saucepan one tablespoonful of butter and a heaping tablespoonful of flour. Stir smoothly together, adding slowly one large cup of either stock or milk, a saltspoonful of mace, a pinch of cayenne pepper, and half a teaspoonful of salt. Put in the lobster, and cook for ten minutes. For curry, simply add one teaspoonful of curry-powder. This stewed lobster may also be put in the shell of the back, which has been cleaned and washed, bread or cracker crumbs sprinkled over it, and browned in the oven; or it may be treated as a scallop, buttering a dish, and putting in alternate layers of crumbs and lobster, ending with crumbs. Crabs, though more troublesome to extract from the shell, are almost equally good, treated in any of the ways given. * * * * * MEATS. The qualities and characteristics of meats have already been spoken of in Part I., and it is necessary here to give only a few simple rules for marketing. The best BEEF is of a clear red color, slightly marbled with fat, and the fat itself of a clear white. Where the beef is dark red or bluish, and the fat yellow, it is too old, or too poorly fed, to be good. The sirloin and ribs, especially the sixth, seventh, and eighth, make the best roasting-pieces. The ribs can be removed and used for stock, and the beef rolled or skewered firmly, making a piece very easily carved, and almost as presentable the second day as the first. For steaks sirloin is nearly as good, and much more economical, than porter-house, which gives only a small eatable portion, the remainder being only fit for the stock-pot. If the beef be very young and tender, steaks from the round may be used; but these are usually best stewed. Other pieces and modes of cooking are given under their respective heads. MUTTON should be a light, clear red, and the fat very white and firm. It is always improved by keeping, and in cold weather can be hung for a month, if carefully watched to see that it has not become tainted. Treated in this way, well-fed mutton is equal to venison. If the fat is deep yellow, and the lean dark red, the animal is too old; and no keeping will make it really good eating. Four years is considered the best age for prime mutton. VEAL also must have clear white fat, and should be fine in grain. If the kidney is covered with firm white fat, it indicates health, and the meat is good; if yellow, it is unwholesome, and should not be eaten. The loin and fillet are used in roasting, and are the choice pieces, the breast coming next, and the neck and ribs being good for stewing and fricassees. PORK should have fine, white fat, and the meat should be white and smooth. Only country-fed pork should ever be eaten, the pig even then being liable to diseases unknown to other animals, and the meat, even when carefully fed, being at all times less digestible than any sort. _Bacon_, carefully cured and smoked, is considered its most wholesome form. POULTRY come last. The best _Turkeys_ have black legs; and, if young, the toes and bill are soft and pliable. The combs of fowls should be bright colored, and the legs smooth. _Geese_, if young and fine, are plump in the breast, have white soft fat, and yellow feet. _Ducks_ are chosen by the same rule as geese, and are firm and thick on the breast. _Pigeons_ should be fresh, the breast plump, and the feet elastic. Only experience can make one familiar with other signs; and a good butcher can usually be trusted to tide one over the season of inexperience, though the sooner it ends the better for all parties concerned. BOILED MEATS AND STEWS. All meats intended to be boiled and served whole at table must be put into _boiling water_, thus following an entirely opposite rule from those intended for soups. In the latter, the object being to extract all the juice, cold water must always be used first, and then heated with the meat in. In the former, all the juice is to be kept in; and, by putting into boiling water, the albumen of the meat hardens on the surface and makes a case or coating for the meat, which accomplishes this end. Where something between a soup and plain boiled meat is desired, as in _beef bouilli_, the meat is put on in cold water, which is brought to a boil _very quickly_, thus securing good gravy, yet not robbing the meat of all its juices. With corned or salted meats, tongue, &c., cold water must be used, and half an hour to the pound allowed. If to be eaten cold, such meats should always be allowed to cool in the water in which they were boiled; and this water, if not too salt, can be used for dried bean or pea soups. BEEF � LA MODE. Six or eight pounds of beef from the round, cut thick. Take out the bone, trim off all rough bits carefully, and rub the meat well with the following spicing: One teaspoonful each of pepper and ground clove, quarter of a cup of brown sugar, and three teaspoonfuls of salt. Mix these all together, and rub thoroughly into the beef, which must stand over-night. Next morning make a stuffing of one pint of bread or cracker crumbs; one large onion chopped fine; a tablespoonful of sweet marjoram or thyme; half a teaspoonful each of pepper and ground clove, and a heaping teaspoonful of salt. Add a large cup of hot water, in which has been melted a heaping tablespoonful of butter, and stir into the crumbs. Beat an egg light, and mix with it. If there is more than needed to fill the hole, make gashes in the meat, and stuff with the remainder. Now bind into shape with a strip of cotton cloth, sewing or tying it firmly. Put a trivet or small iron stand into a soup-pot, and lay the beef upon it. Half cover it with cold water; put in two onions stuck with three cloves each, a large tablespoonful of salt, and a half teaspoonful of pepper; and stew very slowly, allowing half an hour to the pound, and turning the meat twice while cooking. At the end of this time take off the cloth, and put the meat, which must remain on the trivet, in a roasting-pan. Dredge it quickly with flour, set into a hot oven, and brown thoroughly. Baste once with the gravy, and dredge again, the whole operation requiring about half an hour. The water in the pot should have been reduced to about a pint. Pour this into the roasting-pan after the meat is taken up, skimming off every particle of fat. Thicken with a heaping tablespoonful of browned flour, stirred smooth in a little cold water, and add a tablespoonful of catchup and two of wine, if desired, though neither is necessary. Taste, as a little more salt may be required. The thick part of a leg of veal may be treated in the same manner, both being good either hot or cold; and a round of beef may be also used without spicing or stuffing, and browned in the same way, the remains being either warmed in the gravy or used for hashes or croquettes. BEEF � LA MODE (_Virginia fashion_). Use the round, as in the foregoing receipt, and remove the bone; and for eight pounds allow half a pint of good vinegar; one large onion minced fine; half a teaspoonful each of mustard, black pepper, clove, and allspice; and two tablespoonfuls of brown sugar. Cut half a pound of fat salt pork into lardoons, or strips, two or three inches long and about half an inch square. Boil the vinegar with the onion and seasoning, and pour over the strips of pork, and let them stand till cold. Then pour off the liquor, and thicken it with bread or cracker crumbs. Make incisions in the beef at regular intervals,--a carving-steel being very good for this purpose,--and push in the strips of pork. Fill the hole from which the bone was taken with the rest of the pork and the dressing, and tie the beef firmly into shape. Put two tablespoonfuls of dripping or lard in a frying-pan, and brown the meat on all sides. This will take about half an hour. Now put the meat on a trivet in the kettle; half cover with boiling water; and add a tablespoonful of salt, a teaspoonful of pepper, an onion and a small carrot cut fine, and two or three sprigs of parsley. Cook very slowly, allowing half an hour to a pound, and make gravy by the directions given for it in the preceding receipt. _Braised beef_ is prepared by either method given here for _à la mode_ beef, but cooked in a covered iron pan, which comes for the purpose, and which is good also for beef _à la mode_, or for any tough meat which requires long cooking, and is made tenderer by keeping in all the steam. BOILED MUTTON. A _shoulder_, or _fore-quarter_, of mutton, weighing five or six pounds, will boil in an hour, as it is so thin. The _leg_, or _hind-quarter_, requires twenty minutes to the pound; though, if very young and tender, it will do in less. It can be tried with a knitting-needle to see if it is tender. It is made whiter and more delicate by boiling in a cloth, but should be served without it. Boil in well-salted water according to the rule already given. Boiled or mashed turnips are usually served with it, and either drawn butter or caper sauce as on p. 169. _Lamb_ may be boiled in the same manner, but is better roasted; and so also with _veal_. BOILED CORNED BEEF. If to be eaten hot, the _round_ is the best piece. If cold and pressed, what are called "_plate pieces_"--that is, the brisket, the flank, and the thin part of the ribs--may be used. Wash, and put into cold water, allowing half an hour to a pound after it begins to boil. If to be eaten cold, let it stand in the water till nearly cold, as this makes it richer. Take out all bones from a thin piece; wrap in a cloth, and put upon a large platter. Lay a tin sheet over it, and set on a heavy weight,--flat-irons will do,--and let it stand over-night. Or the meat may be picked apart with a knife and fork; the fat and lean evenly mixed and packed into a pan, into which a smaller pan is set on top of the meat, and the weight in this. Thus marbled slices may be had. All corned beef is improved by pressing, and all trimmings from it can be used in hash or croquettes. BOILED TONGUE. Smoked tongue will be found much better than either fresh or pickled tongues. Soak it over night, after washing it. Put on in cold water, and boil steadily four hours. Then take out; peel off the skin, and return to the water to cool. Cut in _lengthwise_ slices, as this makes it tenderer. The root of the tongue may be chopped very fine, and seasoned like deviled ham (p. 265). BOILED HAM. Small hams are better in flavor and quality than large ones. A brush should be kept to scrub them with, as it is impossible to get them clean without it. Soak over-night in plenty of cold water. Next morning, scrape, and trim off all the hard black parts, scrubbing it well. Put on to boil in cold water. Let it heat very gradually. Allow half an hour to the pound. When done, take from the water, skin, and return, letting it remain till cold. Dot with spots of black pepper, and cover the knuckle with a frill of white paper. It is much nicer, whether eaten hot or cold, if covered with bread or cracker crumbs and browned in the oven. The fat is useless, save for soap-grease. In carving, cut down in thin slices through the middle. The knuckle can always be deviled (p. 265). A _leg of pork_ which has simply been corned is boiled in the same way as ham, soaking over-night, and browning in the oven or not, as liked. IRISH STEW. This may be made of either beef or mutton, though mutton is generally used. Reject all bones, and trim off all fat and gristle, reserving these for the stock-pot. Cut the meat in small pieces, not over an inch square, and cover with cold water. Skim carefully as it boils up, and see that the water is kept at the same level by adding as it boils away. For two pounds of meat allow two sliced onions, eight good-sized potatoes, two teaspoonfuls of salt, and half a teaspoonful of pepper. Cover closely, and cook for two hours. Thicken the gravy with one tablespoonful of flour stirred smooth in a little cold water, and serve very hot. The trimmings from a fore-quarter of mutton will be enough for a stew, leaving a well-shaped roast besides. If beef is used, add one medium-sized carrot cut fine, and some sprigs of parsley. Such a stew would be called by a French cook a _ragoût_, and can be made of any pieces of meat or poultry. WHITE STEW, OR FRICASSEE. Use _veal_ for this stew, allowing an hour to a pound of meat, and the same proportions of salt and pepper as in the preceding receipt, adding a saltspoonful of mace. Thicken, when done, with one heaping tablespoonful of flour rubbed smooth with a piece of butter the size of an egg, and one cup of hot milk added just at the last. A cauliflower nicely boiled, cut up, and stewed with it a moment, is very nice. This stew becomes a _pot-pie_ by making a nice biscuit-crust, as on p. 164; cutting it out in rounds, and laying in the kettle half an hour before the stew is done. Cover closely, and do not turn them. Lay them, when done, around the edge of the platter; pile the meat in the centre, and pour over it the thickened gravy. Two beaten eggs are sometimes added, and it is then called a _blanquette_ of veal. BROWN STEW OR FRICASSEE. To make these stews the meat is cut in small pieces, and browned on each side in a little hot dripping; or, if preferred, quarter of a pound of pork is cut in thin slices and fried crisp, the fat from it being used for browning. Cover the meat with warm water when done. If a stew, any vegetables liked can be added; a fricassee never containing them, having only meat and a gravy, thickened with browned flour and seasoned in the proportions already given. Part of a can of mushrooms may be used with a beef stew, and a glass of wine added; this making a _ragoût with mushrooms_. The countless receipts one sees in large cook-books for ragoûts and fricassees are merely variations in the flavoring of simple stews; and, after a little experimenting, any one can improvise her own, remembering that the strongly-flavored vegetables (as carrots) belong especially to dark meats, and the more delicate ones to light. Fresh pork is sometimes used in a white fricassee, in which case a little powdered sage is better than mace as a seasoning. _Curries_ can be made by adding a heaping teaspoonful of curry-powder to a brown fricassee, and serving with boiled rice; put the rice around the edge of the platter, and pour the curry in the middle. Chicken makes the best curry; but veal is very good. In a genuine East-Indian curry, lemon-juice and grated cocoa-nut are added; but it is an unwholesome combination. BEEF ROLLS. Two pounds of steak from the round, cut in very thin slices. Trim off all fat and gristle, and cut into pieces about four inches square. Now cut _very thin_ as many slices of salt pork as you have slices of steak, making them a little smaller. Mix together one teaspoonful of salt and one of thyme or summer savory, and one saltspoonful of pepper. Lay the pork on a square of steak; sprinkle with the seasoning; roll up tightly, and tie. When all are tied, put the bits of fat and trimmings into a hot frying-pan, and add a tablespoonful of drippings. Lay in the rolls, and brown on all sides, which will require about ten minutes; then put them in a saucepan. Add to the fat in the pan a heaping tablespoonful of flour, and stir till a bright brown. Pour in gradually one quart of boiling water, and then strain it over the beef rolls. Cover closely, and cook two hours, or less if the steak is tender, stirring now and then to prevent scorching. Take off the strings before serving. These rolls can be prepared without the pork, and are very nice; or a whole beefsteak can be used, covering it with a dressing made as for stuffed veal, and then rolling; tying at each end, browning, and stewing in the same way. This can be eaten cold or hot; while the small rolls are much better hot. If wanted as a breakfast dish, they can be cooked the day beforehand, left in the gravy, and simply heated through next morning. BRUNSWICK STEW. Two squirrels or small chickens; one quart of sliced tomatoes; one pint of sweet corn; one pint of lima or butter beans; one quart of sliced potatoes; two onions; half a pound of fat salt pork. Cut the pork in slices, and fry brown; cut the squirrels or chickens in pieces, and brown a little, adding the onion cut fine. Now put all the materials in a soup-pot; cover with two quarts of boiling water, and season with one tablespoonful of salt, one of sugar, and half a teaspoonful of cayenne pepper. Stew slowly for four hours. Just before serving, cream a large spoonful of butter with a heaping tablespoonful of flour; thin with the broth, and pour in, letting all cook five minutes longer. To be eaten in soup-plates. ROASTED MEATS. Our roasted meats are really _baked_ meats; but ovens are now so well made and ventilated, that there is little difference of flavor in the two processes. Allow ten minutes to the pound if the meat is liked rare, and from twelve to fifteen, if well done. It is always better to place the meat on a trivet or stand made to fit easily in the roasting-pan, so that it may not become sodden in the water used for gravy. Put into a hot oven, that the surface may soon sear over and hold in the juices, enough of which will escape for the gravy. All rough bits should have been trimmed off, and a joint of eight or ten pounds rubbed with a tablespoonful of salt. Dredge thickly with flour, and let it brown on the meat before basting it, which must be done as often as once in fifteen minutes. Pepper lightly. If the water in the pan dries away, add enough to have a pint for gravy in the end. Dredge with flour at least twice, as this makes a crisp and relishable outer crust. Take up the meat, when done, on a hot platter. Make the gravy in the roasting-pan, by setting it on top of the stove, and first scraping up all the browning from the corners and bottom. If there is much fat, pour it carefully off. If the dredging has been well managed while roasting, the gravy will be thick enough. If not, stir a teaspoonful of browned flour smooth in cold water, and add. Should the gravy be too light, color with a teaspoonful of caramel, and taste to see that the seasoning is right. _Mutton_ requires fifteen minutes to the pound, unless preferred rare, in which case ten will be sufficient. If a tin kitchen is used, fifteen minutes for beef, and twenty for mutton, will be needed. STUFFED LEG OF MUTTON. Have the butcher take out the first joint in a leg of mutton; or it can be done at home by using a very sharp, narrow-bladed knife, and holding it close to the bone. Rub in a tablespoonful of salt, and then fill with a dressing made as follows: One pint of fine bread or cracker crumbs, in which have been mixed dry one even tablespoonful of salt and one of summer savory or thyme, and one teaspoonful of pepper. Chop one onion very fine, and add to it, with one egg well beaten. Melt a piece of butter the size of an egg in a cup of hot water, and pour on the crumbs. If not enough to thoroughly moisten them, add a little more. Either fasten with a skewer, or sew up, and roast as in previous directions. Skim all the fat from the gravy, as the flavor of mutton-fat is never pleasant. A tablespoonful of currant jelly may be put into the gravy-tureen, and the gravy strained upon it. The meat must be basted, and dredged with flour, as carefully as beef. Both the shoulder and saddle are roasted in the same way, but without stuffing; and the leg may be also, though used to more advantage with one. Lamb requires less time; a leg weighing six pounds needing but one hour, or an hour and a quarter if roasted before an open fire. ROAST VEAL. Veal is so dry a meat, that a moist dressing is almost essential. This dressing may be made as in the previous receipt; or, instead of butter, quarter of a pound of salt pork can be chopped fine, and mixed with it. If the loin is used,--and this is always best,--take out the bone to the first joint, and fill the hole with dressing, as in the leg of mutton. In using the breast, bone also, reserving the bones for stock; lay the dressing on it; roll, and tie securely. Baste often. Three or four thin slices of salt pork may be laid on the top; or, if this is not liked, melt a tablespoonful of butter in a cup of hot water, and baste with that. Treat it as in directions for roasted meats, but allow a full half-hour to the pound, and make the gravy as for beef. Cold veal makes so many nice dishes, that a large piece can always be used satisfactorily. ROAST PORK. Bone the leg as in mutton, and stuff; substituting sage for the sweet marjoram, and using two onions instead of one. Allow half an hour to the pound, and make gravy as for roast beef. Spare-ribs are considered most delicate; and both are best eaten cold, the hot pork being rather gross, and, whether hot or cold, less digestible than any other meat. ROAST VENISON. In winter venison can be kept a month; and, in all cases, it should hang in a cold place at least a month before using. Allow half an hour to a pound in roasting, and baste very often. Small squares of salt pork are sometimes inserted in incisions made here and there, and help to enrich the gravy. In roasting a haunch it is usually covered with a thick paste of flour and water, and a paper tied over this, not less than four hours being required to roast it. At the end of three, remove the paper and paste, dredge and baste till well browned. The last basting is with a glass of claret; and this, and half a small glass of currant jelly are added to the gravy. Venison steaks are treated as in directions for broiled meats. BAKED PORK AND BEANS. Pick over one quart of dried beans, what is known as "navy beans" being the best, and soak over-night in plenty of cold water. Turn off the water in the morning, and put on to boil in cold water till tender,--at least one hour. An earthen pot is always best for this, as a shallow dish does not allow enough water to keep them from drying. Drain off the water. Put the beans in the pot. Take half a pound of salt pork, fat and lean together being best. Score the skin in small squares with a knife, and bury it, all but the surface of this rind, in the beans. Cover them completely with boiling water. Stir in one tablespoonful of salt, and two of good molasses. Cover, and bake slowly,--not less than five hours,--renewing the water if it bakes away. Take off the cover an hour before they are done, that the pork may brown a little. If pork is disliked, use a large spoonful of butter instead. Cold baked beans can be warmed in a frying-pan with a little water, and are even better than at first, or they can be used in a soup as in directions given. A teaspoonful of made mustard is sometimes stirred in, and gives an excellent flavor to a pot of baked beans. Double the quality if the family is large, as they keep perfectly well in winter, the only season at which so hearty a dish is required, save for laborers. BROILED AND FRIED MEATS. If the steak is tender, never pound or chop it. If there is much fat, trim it off, or it will drop on the coals and smoke. If tough, as in the country is very likely to be the case, pounding becomes necessary, but a better method is to use the chopping-knife; not chopping through, but going lightly over the whole surface. Broken as it may seem, it closes at once on the application of a quick heat. The best _broiler_ is by all means a light wire one, which can be held in the hand and turned quickly. The fire should be quick and hot. Place the steak in the centre of the broiler, and hold it close to the coals an instant on each side, letting both sear over before broiling really begins. Where a steak has been cut three-quarters of an inch thick, ten minutes will be sufficient to cook it rare, and fifteen will make it well done. Turn almost constantly, and, when done, serve at once on a _hot dish_. Never salt broiled meats beforehand, as it extracts the juices. Cut up a tablespoonful of butter, and let it melt on the hot dish, turning the steak in it once or twice. Salt and pepper lightly, and, if necessary to have it stand at all, cover with an earthen dish, or stand in the open oven. _Chops_ and _cutlets_ are broiled in the same way. Veal is so dry a meat that it is better fried. Where broiling for any reason cannot be conveniently done, the next best method is to heat a frying-pan very hot; grease it with a bit of fat cut from the steak, just enough to prevent it from sticking. Turn almost as constantly as in broiling, and season in the same way when done. Venison steaks are treated in the same manner. VEAL CUTLETS. Fry four or five slices of salt pork till brown, or use drippings instead, if this fat is disliked. Let the cutlets, which are best cut from the leg, be made as nearly of a size as possible; dip them in well-beaten egg and then in cracker-crumbs, and fry to a golden brown. Where the veal is tough, it is better to parboil it for ten or fifteen minutes before frying. PORK STEAK. Pork steaks or chops should be cut quite thin, and sprinkled with pepper and salt and a little powdered sage. Have the pan hot; put in a tablespoonful of dripping, and fry the pork slowly for twenty minutes, turning often. A gravy can be made for these, and for veal cutlets also, by mixing a tablespoonful of flour with the fat left in the pan, and stirring it till a bright brown, then adding a large cup of boiling water, and salt to taste; a saltspoonful being sufficient, with half the amount of pepper. Pigs' liver, which many consider very nice, is treated in precisely the same way, using a teaspoonful of powdered sage to two pounds of liver. FRIED HAM OR BACON. Cut the ham in very thin slices. Take off the rind, and, if the ham is old or hard, parboil it for five minutes. Have the pan hot, and, unless the ham is quite fat, use a teaspoonful of drippings. Turn the slices often, and cook from five to eight minutes. They can be served dry, or, if gravy is liked, add a tablespoonful of flour to the fat, stir till smooth, and pour in slowly a large cup of milk or water. Salt pork can be fried in the same way. If eggs are to be fried with the ham, take up the slices, break in the eggs, and dip the boiling fat over them as they fry. If there is not fat enough, add half a cup of lard. To make each egg round, put muffin-rings into the frying-pan, and break an egg into each, pouring the boiling fat over them from a spoon till done, which will be in from three to five minutes. Serve one on each slice of ham, and make no gravy. The fat can be strained, and used in frying potatoes. FRIED TRIPE. The tripe can be merely cut in squares, rolled in flour, salted and peppered, and fried brown in drippings, or the pieces may be dipped in a batter made as for clam fritters, or egged and crumbed like oysters, and fried. In cities it can be bought already prepared. In the country it must first be cleaned, and then boiled till tender. TO WARM COLD MEATS. Cold roast beef should be cut in slices, the gravy brought to boiling-point, and each slice dipped in just long enough to heat, as stewing in the gravy toughens it. Rare mutton is treated in the same way, but is nicer warmed in a chafing-dish at table, adding a tablespoonful of currant jelly and one of wine to the gravy. Venison is served in the same manner. Veal and pork can cook in the gravy without toughening, and so with turkey and chicken. Cold duck or game is very nice warmed in the same way as mutton, the bones in all cases being reserved for stock. * * * * * POULTRY. TO CLEAN POULTRY. First be very careful to singe off all down by holding over a blazing paper, or a little alcohol burning in a saucer. Cut off the feet and ends of the wings, and the neck as far as it is dark. If the fowl is killed at home, be sure that the head is chopped off, and never allow the neck to be wrung as is often done. It is not only an unmerciful way of killing, but the blood has thus no escape, and settles about all the vital organs. The head should be cut off, and the body hang and bleed thoroughly before using. Pick out all the pin-feathers with the blade of a small knife. Turn back the skin of the neck, loosening it with the finger and thumb, and draw out the windpipe and crop, which can be done without making any cut. Now cut a slit in the lower part of the fowl, the best place being close to the thigh. By working the fingers in slowly, keeping them close to the body, the whole intestines can be removed in a mass. Be especially careful not to break the gall-bag, which is near the upper part of the breastbone, and attached to the liver. If this operation is carefully performed, it will be by no means so disagreeable as it seems. A French cook simply wipes out the inside, considering that much flavor is lost by washing. I prefer to wash in one water, and dry quickly, though in the case of an old fowl, which often has a strong smell, it is better to dissolve a teaspoonful of soda in the first water, which should be warm, and wash again in cold, then wiping dry as possible. Split and wash the gizzard, reserving it for gravy. DRESSING FOR POULTRY. One pint of bread or cracker crumbs, into which mix dry one teaspoonful of pepper, one of thyme or summer savory, one even tablespoonful of salt, and, if in season, a little chopped parsley. Melt a piece of butter the size of an egg in one cup of boiling water, and mix with the crumbs, adding one or two well-beaten eggs. A slice of salt pork chopped fine is often substituted for the butter. For _ducks_ two onions are chopped fine, and added to the above; or a potato dressing is made, as for geese, using six large boiled potatoes, mashed hot, and seasoned with an even tablespoonful of salt, a teaspoonful each of sage and pepper, and two chopped onions. _Game_ is usually roasted unstuffed; but grouse and prairie-chickens may have the same dressing as chickens and turkeys, this being used also for boiled fowls. ROAST TURKEY. Prepare by cleaning, as in general directions above, and, when dry, rub the inside with a teaspoonful of salt. Put the gizzard, heart, and liver on the fire in a small saucepan, with one quart of boiling water and one teaspoonful of salt, and boil two hours. Put a little stuffing in the breast, and fold back the skin of the neck, holding it with a stitch or with a small skewer. Put the remainder in the body, and sew it up with darning-cotton. Cross and tie the legs down tight, and run a skewer through the wings to fasten them to the body. Lay it in the roasting-pan, and for an eight-pound turkey allow not less than three hours' time, a ten or twelve pound one needing four. Put a pint of boiling water with one teaspoonful of salt in the pan, and add to it as it dries away. Melt a heaping tablespoonful of butter in the water, and baste very often. The secret of a handsomely-browned turkey, lies in this frequent basting. Dredge over the flour two or three times, as in general roasting directions, and turn the turkey so that all sides will be reached. When done, take up on a hot platter. Put the baking-pan on the stove, having before this chopped the gizzard and heart fine, and mashed the liver, and put them in the gravy-tureen. Stir a tablespoonful of brown flour into the gravy in the pan, scraping up all the brown, and add slowly the water in which the giblets were boiled, which should be about a pint. Strain on to the chopped giblets, and taste to see if salt enough. The gravy for all roast poultry is made in this way. Serve with cranberry sauce or jelly. ROAST OR BOILED CHICKENS. Stuff and truss as with turkeys, and to a pair of chickens weighing two and a half pounds each, allow one hour to roast, basting often, and making a gravy as in preceding receipt. Boil as in rule for turkeys. ROAST DUCK. After cleaning, stuff as in rule given for poultry dressing, and roast,--if game, half an hour; if tame, one hour, making gravy as in directions given, and serving with currant jelly. ROAST GOOSE. No fat save its own is needed in basting a goose, which, if large, requires two hours to roast. Skim off as much fat as possible before making the gravy, as it has a strong taste. BIRDS. Small birds may simply be washed and wiped dry, tied firmly, and roasted twenty minutes, dredging with flour, basting with butter and water, and adding a little currant jelly or wine to the gravy. They may be served on toast. FRIED CHICKEN. Cut the chicken into nice pieces for serving. Roll in flour, or, if preferred, in beaten egg and crumbs. Heat a cupful of nice dripping or lard; add a teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonful of pepper; lay in the pieces, and fry brown on each side, allowing not less than twenty minutes for the thickest pieces and ten for the thin ones. Lay on a hot platter, and make a gravy by adding one tablespoonful of flour to the fat, stirring smooth, and adding slowly one cupful of boiling water or stock. Strain over the chicken. Milk or cream is often used instead of water. BROWN FRICASSEE. Fry one or two chickens as above, using only flour to roll them in. Three or four slices of salt pork may be used, cutting them in bits, and frying brown, before putting in the chicken. When fried, lay the pieces in a saucepan, and cover with warm water, adding one teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonful of pepper. Cover closely, and stew one hour, or longer if the chickens are old. Take up the pieces, and thicken the gravy with one tablespoonful of flour, first stirred smooth in a little cold water. Or the flour may be added to the fat in the pan after frying, and water enough for a thin gravy, which can all be poured into the saucepan, though with this method there is more danger of burning. If not dark enough, color with a teaspoonful of caramel. By adding a chopped onion fried in the fat, and a teaspoonful of curry-powder, this becomes a curry, to be served with boiled rice. WHITE FRICASSEE. Cut up the chicken as in brown fricassee, and stew without frying for an hour and a half, reducing the water to about one pint. Take up the chicken on a hot platter. Melt one tablespoonful of butter in a saucepan, and add a heaping tablespoonful of flour, stirring constantly till smooth. Pour in slowly one cup of milk, and, as it boils and thickens, add the chicken broth, and serve. This becomes a pot-pie by adding biscuit-crust as in rule for veal pot-pie, p. 150, and serving in the same way. The same crust may also be used with a brown fricassee, but is most customary with a white. CHICKEN PIE. Make a fricassee, as above directed, either brown or white, as best liked, and a nice pie-crust, as on p. 224, or a biscuit-crust if pie-crust is considered too rich. Line a deep baking-dish with the crust; a good way being to use a plain biscuit-crust for the lining, and pie-crust for the lid. Lay in the cooked chicken; fill up with the gravy, and cover with pastry, cutting a round hole in the centre; and bake about three-quarters of an hour. The top can be decorated with leaves made from pastry, and in this case will need to have a buttered paper laid over it for the first twenty minutes, that they need not burn. Eat either cold or hot. Game pies can be made in the same way, and veal is a very good substitute for chicken. Where veal is used, a small slice of ham may be added, and a little less salt; both veal and ham being cut very small before filling the pie. BOILED TURKEY. Clean, stuff, and truss the fowl selected, as for a roasted turkey. The body is sometimes filled with oysters. To truss in the tightest and most compact way, run a skewer under the leg-joint between the leg and the thigh, then through the body and under the opposite leg-joint in the same way; push the thighs up firmly close to the sides; wind a string about the ends of the skewer, and tie it tight. Treat the wings in the same way, though in boiled fowls the points are sometimes drawn under the back, and tied there. The turkey may be boiled with or without cloth around it. In either case use _boiling_ water, salted as for stock, and allow twenty minutes to the pound. It is usually served with oyster sauce, but parsley or capers may be used instead. CHICKEN CROQUETTES. Take all the meat from a cold roast or boiled chicken, and chop moderately fine. Mince an onion very small, and fry brown in a piece of butter the size of an egg. Add one small cup of stock or water; one saltspoonful each of pepper and mace; one teaspoonful of salt; the juice of half a lemon; two well-beaten eggs; and, if liked, a glass of wine. Make into small rolls like corks, or mold in a pear shape, sticking in a clove for the stem when fried. Roll in sifted cracker-crumbs; dip in an egg beaten with a spoonful of water, and again in crumbs; put in the frying-basket, and fry in boiling lard. Drain on brown paper, and pile on a napkin in serving. A more delicate croquette is made by using simply the white meat, and adding a set of calf's brains which have been boiled in salted water. A cupful of boiled rice mashed fine is sometimes substituted for the brains. Use same seasoning as above, adding quarter of a saltspoonful of cayenne, omitting the wine, and using instead half a cup of cream or milk. Fry as directed. Veal croquettes can hardly be distinguished from those of chicken. PHILADELPHIA CHICKEN CROQUETTES. The croquette first given is dry when fried, and even the second form is somewhat so, many preferring them so. For the creamy delicious veal, sweetbread, or chicken croquette one finds in Philadelphia, the following materials are necessary: one pint of hot cream; two even tablespoonfuls of butter; four heaping tablespoonfuls of sifted flour; half a teaspoonful of salt; half a saltspoonful of white pepper; a dust of cayenne; half a teaspoonful of celery salt; and one teaspoonful of onion juice. Scald the cream in a double boiler. Melt the butter in an enameled or granite saucepan, and as it boils, stir in the flour, stirring till perfectly smooth. Add the cream very slowly, stirring constantly as it thickens, adding the seasoning at the last. An egg may also be added, but the croquettes are more creamy without it. To half a pound of chicken chopped fine, add one teaspoonful of lemon juice and one of minced parsley, one beaten egg and the pint of cream sauce. Spread on a platter to cool, and when cool make into shapes, either corks or like pears; dip in egg and crumbs, and fry in boiling fat. Oyster, sweetbread, and veal croquettes are made by the same form, using a pint of chopped oysters. To the sweetbreads a small can of mushrooms may be added cut in bits. SALMI OF DUCKS OR GAME. Cut the meat from cold roast ducks or game into small bits. Break the bones and trimmings, and cover with stock or cold water, adding two cloves, two pepper-corns, and a bay-leaf or pinch of sweet herbs. Boil till reduced to a cupful for a pint of meat. Mince two small onions fine, and fry brown in two tablespoonfuls of butter; then add two tablespoonfuls of flour and stir till deep brown, adding to it the strained broth from the bones. Put in the bits of meat with one tablespoonful of lemon juice and one of Worcestershire sauce. Simmer for fifteen minutes, and at the last add, if liked, six or eight mushrooms and a glass of claret. Serve on slices of fried bread, and garnish with fried bread and parsley. CASSEROLE OF RICE AND MEAT. This can be made of any kind of meat, but is nicest of veal or poultry. Boil a large cup of rice till tender, and let it cool. Chop fine half a pound of meat, and season with half a teaspoonful of salt, a small grated onion, and a teaspoonful of minced parsley and a pinch of cayenne. Add a teacupful of cracker crumbs and a beaten egg, and wet with stock or hot water enough to make it pack easily. Butter a tin mould, quart size best, and line the bottom and sides with rice about half an inch thick. Pack in the meat; cover with rice, and steam one hour. Loosen at edges; turn out on hot platter, and pour tomato sauce around it. ITALIA'S PRIDE. This is a favorite dish in the writer's family, having been sent many years ago from Italy by a friend who had learned its composition from her Italian cook. Its name was bestowed by the children of the house. One large cup of chopped meat; two onions minced and fried brown in butter; a pint of cold boiled macaroni or spaghetti; a pint of fresh or cold stewed tomatoes; one teaspoonful of salt; half a teaspoonful of white pepper. Butter a pudding dish, and put first a layer of macaroni, then tomato, then meat and some onion and seasoning, continuing this till the dish is full. Cover with fine bread crumbs, dot with bits of butter, and bake for half an hour. Serve very hot. DEVILED HAM. For this purpose use either the knuckle or any odds and ends remaining. Cut off all dark or hard bits, and see that at least a quarter of the amount is fat. Chop as finely as possible, reducing it almost to a paste. For a pint-bowl of this, make a dressing as follows:-- One even tablespoonful of sugar; one even teaspoonful of ground mustard; one saltspoonful of cayenne pepper; one spoonful of butter; one teacupful of boiling vinegar. Mix the sugar, mustard, and pepper thoroughly, and add the vinegar little by little. Stir it into the chopped ham, and pack it in small molds, if it is to be served as a lunch or supper relish, turning out upon a small platter and garnishing with parsley. For sandwiches, cut the bread very thin; butter lightly, and spread with about a teaspoonful of the deviled ham. The root of a boiled tongue can be prepared in the same way. If it is to be kept some time, pack in little jars, and pour melted butter over the top. BONED TURKEY. This is a delicate dish, and is usually regarded as an impossibility for any ordinary housekeeper; and unless one is getting up a supper or other entertainment, it is hardly worth while to undertake it. If the legs and wings are left on, the boning becomes much more difficult. The best plan is to cut off both them and the neck, boiling all with the turkey, and using the meat for croquettes or hash. Draw only the crop and windpipe, as the turkey is more easily handled before dressing. Choose a fat hen turkey of some six or seven pounds weight, and cut off legs up to second joint, with half the wings and the neck. Now, with a very sharp knife, make a clean cut down the entire back, and holding the knife close to the body, cut away the flesh, first on one side and then another, making a clean cut around the pope's nose. Be very careful, in cutting down the breastbone, not to break through the skin. The entire meat will now be free from the bones, save the pieces remaining in legs and wings. Cut out these, and remove all sinews. Spread the turkey skin-side down on the board. Cut out the breasts, and cut them up in long, narrow pieces, or as you like. Chop fine a pound and a half of veal or fresh pork, and a slice of fat ham also. Season with one teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful each of mace and pepper, half a saltspoonful of cayenne, and the juice of lemon. Cut half a pound of cold boiled smoked tongue into dice. Make layers of this force-meat, putting half of it on the turkey and then the dice of tongue, with strips of the breast between, using force meat for the last layer. Roll up the turkey in a tight roll, and sew the skin together. Now roll it firmly in a napkin, tying at the ends and across in two places to preserve the shape. Cover it with boiling water, salted as for stock, putting in all the bones and giblets, and two onions stuck with three cloves each. Boil four hours. Let it cool in the liquor. Take up in a pan, lay a tin sheet on it, and press with a heavy weight. Strain the water in which it was boiled, and put in a cold place. Next day take off the napkin, and set the turkey in the oven a moment to melt off any fat. It can be sliced and eaten in this way, but makes a handsomer dish served as follows: Remove the fat from the stock, and heat three pints of it to boiling-point, adding two-thirds of a package of gelatine which has been soaked in a little cold water. Strain a cupful of this into some pretty mold,--an ear of corn is a good shape,--and the remainder in two pans or deep plates, coloring each with caramel,--a teaspoonful in one, and two in the other. Lay the turkey on a small platter turned face down in a larger one, and when the jelly is cold and firm, put the molded form on top of it. Now cut part of the jelly into rounds with a pepper-box top or a small star-cutter, and arrange around the mold, chopping the rest and piling about the edge, so that the inner platter or stand is completely concealed. The outer row of jelly can have been colored red by cutting up, and boiling in the stock for it, half of a red beet. Sprigs of parsley or delicate celery-tops may be used as garnish, and it is a very elegant-looking as well as savory dish. The legs and wings can be left on and trussed outside, if liked, making it as much as possible in the original shape; but it is no better, and much more trouble. JELLIED CHICKEN. Tenderness is no object here, the most ancient dweller in the barnyard answering equally well, and even better than "broilers." Draw carefully, and if the fowl is old, wash it in water in which a spoonful of soda has been dissolved, rinsing in cold. Put on in cold water, and season with a tablespoonful of salt and a half teaspoonful of pepper. Boil till the meat slips easily from the bones, reducing the broth to about a quart. Strain, and when cold, take off the fat. Where any floating particles remain, they can always be removed by laying a piece of soft paper on the broth for a moment. Cut the breast in long strips, and the rest of the meat in small pieces. Boil two or three eggs hard, and when cold, cut in thin slices. Slice a lemon very thin. Dissolve half a package of gelatine in a little cold water; heat the broth to boiling-point, and add a saltspoonful of mace, and if liked, a glass of sherry, though it is not necessary, pouring it on the gelatine. Choose a pretty mold, and lay in strips of the breast; then a layer of egg-slices, putting them close against the mold. Nearly fill with chicken, laid in lightly; then strain on the broth till it is nearly full, and set in a cold place. Dip for an instant in hot water before turning out. It is nice as a supper or lunch dish, and very pretty in effect. * * * * * SAUCES AND SALADS. The foundation for a large proportion of sauces is in what the French cook knows as a _roux_, and we as "drawn butter." As our drawn butter is often lumpy, or with the taste of the raw flour, I give the French method as a security against such disaster. TO MAKE A ROUX. Melt in a saucepan a piece of butter the size of an egg, and add two even tablespoonfuls of sifted flour; one ounce of butter to two of flour being a safe rule. Stir till smooth, and pour in slowly one pint of milk, or milk and water, or water alone. With milk it is called _cream roux_, and is used for boiled fish and poultry. Where the butter and flour are allowed to brown, it is called a _brown roux_, and is thinned with the soup or stew which it is designed to thicken. Capers added to a _white roux_--which is the butter and flour, with water added--give _caper sauce_, for use with boiled mutton. Pickled nasturtiums are a good substitute for capers. Two hard-boiled eggs cut fine give egg sauce. Chopped parsley or pickle, and the variety of catchups and sauces, make an endless variety; the _white roux_ being the basis for all of them. BREAD SAUCE. For this sauce boil one point of milk, with one onion cut in pieces. When it has boiled five minutes, take out the onion, and thicken the milk with half a pint of sifted bread-crumbs. Melt a teaspoonful of butter in a frying-pan; put in half a pint of coarser crumbs, stirring them till a light brown. Flavor the sauce with half a teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful of pepper, and a grate of nutmeg; and serve with game, helping a spoonful of the sauce, and one of the browned crumbs. The boiled onion may be minced fine and added, and the browned crumbs omitted. CELERY SAUCE. Wash and boil a small head of celery, which has been cut up fine, in one pint of water, with half a teaspoonful of salt. Boil till tender, which will require about half an hour. Make a _cream roux_, using half a pint of milk, and adding quarter of a saltspoonful of white pepper. Stir into the celery; boil a moment, and serve. A teaspoonful of celery salt can be used, if celery is out of season, adding it to the full rule for _cream roux_. Cauliflower may be used in the same way as celery, cutting it very fine, and adding a large cupful to the sauce. Use either with boiled meats. MINT SAUCE. Look over and strip off the leaves, and cut them as fine as possible with a sharp knife. Use none of the stalk but the tender tips. To a cupful of chopped mint allow an equal quantity of sugar, and half a cup of good vinegar. It should stand an hour before using. CRANBERRY SAUCE. Wash one quart of cranberries in warm water, and pick them over carefully. Put them in a porcelain-lined kettle, with one pint of cold water and one pint of sugar, and cook without stirring for half an hour, turning then into molds. This is the simplest method. They can be strained through a sieve, and put in bowls, forming a marmalade, which can be cut in slices when cold; or the berries can be crushed with a spoon while boiling, but left unstrained. APPLE SAUCE. Pare, core, and quarter some apples (sour being best), and stew till tender in just enough water to cover them. Rub them through a sieve, allowing a teacupful of sugar to a quart of strained apple, or even less, where intended to eat with roast pork or goose. Where intended for lunch or tea, do not strain, but treat as follows: Make a sirup of one large cupful of sugar and one of water for every dozen good-sized apples. Add half a lemon, cut in very thin slices. Put in the apple; cover closely, and stew till tender, keeping the quarters as whole as possible. The lemon may be omitted. PLAIN PUDDING SAUCE. Make a _white roux_, with a pint of either water or milk; but water will be very good. Add to it a large cup of sugar, a teaspoonful of lemon or any essence liked, and a wine-glass of wine. Vinegar can be substituted. Grate in a little nutmeg, and serve hot. MOLASSES SAUCE. This sauce is intended especially for apple dumplings and puddings. One pint of molasses; one tablespoonful of butter; the juice of one lemon, or a large spoonful of vinegar. Boil twenty minutes. It may be thickened with a tablespoonful of corn-starch dissolved in a little cold water, but is good in either case. FOAMING SAUCE. Cream half a cup of butter till very light, and add a heaping cup of sugar, beating both till white. Set the bowl in which it was beaten into a pan of boiling water, and allow it to melt slowly. Just before serving but _not before_, pour into it slowly half a cup or four spoonfuls of boiling water, stirring to a thick foam. Grate in nutmeg, or use a teaspoonful of lemon essence, and if wine is liked, add a glass of sherry or a tablespoonful of brandy. For a pudding having a decided flavor of its own, a sauce without wine is preferable. HARD SAUCE Beat together the same proportions of butter and sugar as in the preceding receipt; add a tablespoonful of wine if desired; pile lightly on a pretty dish; grate nutmeg over the top, and set in a cold place till used. FRUIT SAUCES. The sirup of any nice canned fruit may be used cold as sauce for cold puddings and blancmanges, or heated and thickened for hot, allowing to a pint of juice a heaping teaspoonful of corn-starch dissolved in a little cold water, and boiling it five minutes. Strawberry or raspberry sirup is especially nice. PLAIN SALAD DRESSING. Three tablespoonfuls of best olive-oil; one tablespoonful of vinegar; one saltspoonful each of salt and pepper mixed together; and then, with three tablespoonfuls of best olive-oil, adding last the tablespoonful of vinegar. This is the simplest form of dressing. The lettuce, or other salad material, must be fresh and crisp, and should not be mixed till the moment of eating. SPANISH TOMATO SAUCE. One can of tomatoes or six large fresh ones; two minced onions fried brown in a large tablespoonful of butter. Add to the tomatoes with three sprigs of parsley and thyme, one teaspoonful of salt, and half a one of pepper; three cloves and two allspice, with a small blade of mace and a bit of lemon peel, and two lumps of sugar. Stew very slowly for two hours, then rub through a sieve, and return to the fire. Add two tablespoonfuls of flour, browned with a tablespoonful of butter, and boil up once. It should be smooth and thick. Keep on ice, and it will keep a week. Excellent. MAYONNAISE SAUCE. For this sauce use the yolks of three raw eggs; one even tablespoonful of mustard; one of sugar; one teaspoonful of salt; and a saltspoonful of cayenne. Break the egg yolks into a bowl; beat a few strokes, and gradually add the mustard, sugar, salt, and pepper. Now take a pint bottle of best olive-oil, and stir in a few drops at a time. The sauce will thicken like a firm jelly. When the oil is half in, add the juice of one lemon by degrees with the remainder of the oil; and last, add quarter of a cup of good vinegar. This will keep for weeks, and can be used with either chicken, salmon, or vegetable salad. A simpler form can be made with the yolk of one egg, half a pint of oil, and half the ingredients given above. It can be colored red with the juice of a boiled beet, or with the coral of a lobster, and is very nice as a dressing for raw tomatoes, cutting them in thick slices, and putting a little of it on each slice. Mayonnaise may be varied in many ways, _sauce tartare_ being a favorite one. This is simply two even tablespoonfuls of capers, half a small onion, and a tablespoonful of parsley, and two gherkins or a small cucumber, all minced fine and added to half a pint of mayonnaise. This keeps a long time, and is very nice for fried fish or plain boiled tongue. DRESSING WITHOUT OIL. Cream a small cup of butter, and stir into it the yolks of three eggs. Mix together one teaspoonful of mustard, one teaspoonful of salt, and quarter of a saltspoonful of cayenne, and add to the butter and egg. Stir in slowly, instead of oil, one cup of cream, and add the juice of one lemon and half a cup of vinegar. BOILED DRESSING FOR COLD SLAW. This is good also for vegetable salads. One small cup of good vinegar; two tablespoonfuls of sugar; half a teaspoonful each of salt and mustard; a saltspoonful of pepper; a piece of butter the size of a walnut; and two beaten eggs. Put these all in a small saucepan over the fire, and stir till it becomes a smooth paste. Have a firm, white cabbage, very cold, and chopped fine; and mix the dressing well through it. It will keep several days in a cold place. CHICKEN SALAD. Boil a tender chicken, and when cold, cut all the meat in dice. Cut up white tender celery enough to make the same amount, and mix with the meat. Stir into it a tablespoonful of oil with three of vinegar, and a saltspoonful each of mustard and salt, and let it stand an hour or two. When ready to serve, mix the whole with a mayonnaise sauce, leaving part to mask the top; or use the mayonnaise alone, without the first dressing of vinegar and oil. Lettuce can be substituted for celery; and where neither is obtainable, a crisp white cabbage may be chopped fine, and the meat of the chicken also, and either a teaspoonful of extract of celery or celery-seed used to flavor it The fat of the chicken, taken from the water in which it was boiled, carefully melted and strained, and cooled again, is often used by Southern housekeepers. SALMON MAYONNAISE. Carefully remove all the skin and bones from a pound of boiled salmon, or use a small can of the sealed, draining away all the liquid. Cut in small pieces, and season with two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, half a small onion minced fine, and half a teaspoonful each of salt and pepper. Cover the bottom of the salad dish with crisp lettuce-leaves; lay the salmon on it, and pour on the sauce. The meat of a lobster can be treated in the same way. * * * * * EGGS, CHEESE, AND BREAKFAST DISHES. BOILED EGGS. Let the water be boiling fast when the eggs are put in, that it may not be checked. They should have lain in warm water a few minutes before boiling, to prevent the shells cracking. Allow three minutes for a soft-boiled egg; four, to have the white firmly set; and ten, for a hard-boiled egg. Another method is to pour boiling water on the eggs, and let them stand for ten minutes where they will be nearly at boiling-point, though not boiling. The white and yolk are then perfectly cooked, and of jelly-like consistency. POACHED EGGS. Have a deep frying-pan full of boiling water,--simmering, not boiling furiously. Put in two teaspoonfuls of vinegar and a teaspoonful of salt. Break each egg into a cup or saucer, allowing one for each person; slide gently into the water, and let them stand five minutes, but without boiling. Have ready small slices of buttered toast which have been previously dipped quickly into hot water. Take up the eggs on a skimmer; trim the edges evenly, and slip off upon the toast, serving at once. For fried eggs, see _Ham and Eggs_, p. 158. SCRAMBLED EGGS. Break half a dozen eggs into a bowl, and beat for a minute. Have the frying-pan hot. Melt a tablespoonful of butter, with an even teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonful of pepper, and turn in the eggs. Stir them constantly as they harden, until they are a firm yet delicate mixture of white and yellow, and turn into a hot dish, serving at once. A cup of milk may be added if liked. The whole operation should not exceed five minutes. BAKED EGGS. Break the eggs into a buttered pudding-dish. Salt and pepper them very lightly, and bake in a quick oven till set. Or turn over them a cupful of good gravy, that of veal or poultry being especially nice, and bake in the same way. Serve in the dish they were baked in. STUFFED EGGS. Boil eggs for twenty minutes. Drop them in cold water, and when cold, take off the shells, and cut the egg in two lengthwise. Take out the yolks carefully; rub them fine on a plate, and add an equal amount of deviled ham, or of cold tongue or chicken, minced very fine. If chicken is used, add a saltspoonful of salt and a pinch of cayenne. Roll the mixture into little balls the size of the yolk; fill each white with it; arrange on a dish with sprigs of parsley, and use cold as a lunch dish. They can also be served hot by laying them in a deep buttered pie-plate, covering with a cream _roux_, dusting thickly with bread-crumbs, and browning in a quick oven. PLAIN OMELET. The pan for frying an omelet should be clean and very smooth. Break the eggs one by one into a cup, to avoid the risk of a spoiled one. Allow from three to five, but never _over_ five, for a single omelet. Turn them into a bowl, and give them twelve beats with whisk or fork. Put butter the size of an egg into the frying-pan, and let it run over the entire surface. As it begins to boil, turn in the eggs. Hold the handle of the pan in one hand, and with the other draw the egg constantly up from the edges as it sets, passing a knife underneath to let the butter run under. Shake the pan now and then to keep the omelet from scorching. It should be firm at the edges, and creamy in the middle. When done, either fold over one-half on the other, and turn on to a hot platter to serve at once, or set in the oven a minute to brown the top, turning it out in a round. A little chopped ham or parsley may be added. The myriad forms of omelet to be found in large cook-books are simply this plain one, with a spoonful or so of chopped mushrooms or tomatoes or green pease laid in the middle of it just before folding and serving. A variation is also made by beating whites and yolks separately, then adding half a cup of cream or milk; doubling the seasoning given above, and then following the directions for frying. Quarter of an onion and a sprig or two of parsley minced fine are a very nice addition. A cupful of finely minced fish, either fresh or salt, makes a fish omlet. Chopped oysters may also be used; and many persons like a large spoonful of grated cheese, though this is a French rather than American taste. BAKED OMELET. One large cup of milk; five eggs; a saltspoonful of salt; and half a one of white pepper mixed with the last. Beat the eggs well, a Dover egg-beater being the best possible one where yolks and whites are not separated; add the salt and pepper, and then the milk. Melt a piece of butter the size of an egg in a frying-pan, and when it boils, pour in the egg. Let it stand two minutes, or long enough to harden a little, but do not stir at all. When a little firm, put into a quick oven, and bake till brown. It will rise very high, but falls almost immediately. Serve at once on a very hot platter. This omelet can also be varied with chopped ham or parsley. The old-fashioned iron spider with short handle is best for baking it, as a long-handled pan cannot be shut up in the oven. This omelet can also be fried in large spoonfuls, like pancakes, rolling each one as done. CHEESE FONDU. This preparation of grated cheese and eggs can be made in a large dish for several people, or in "portions" for one, each in a small earthen dish. For one portion allow two eggs; half a saltspoonful of salt; a heaping tablespoonful of grated cheese; two of milk; and a few grains of cayenne. Melt a teaspoonful of butter in the dish, and when it boils, pour in the cheese and egg, and cook slowly till it is well set. It is served in the dish in which it is cooked, and should be eaten at once. An adaptation of this has been made by Mattieu Williams, the author of the "Chemistry of Cookery." It is as follows:-- Soak enough slices of bread to fill a quart pudding-dish, in a pint of milk, to which half a teaspoonful of salt and two beaten eggs have been added. Butter the pudding-dish and lay in the bread, putting a thick coating of grated cheese on each slice. Pour what milk may remain over the top, and bake slowly about half an hour. CHEESE SOUFFL�. Melt in a saucepan two tablespoonfuls of butter, and add to it half a teaspoonful of dry mustard; a grain of cayenne; a saltspoonful of white pepper; a grate of nutmeg; two tablespoonfuls of flour; and stir all smooth, adding a gill of milk and a large cupful of grated cheese. Stir into this as much powdered bi-carbonate of potash as will stand on a three-cent piece, and then beat in three eggs, yolks and whites beaten separately. Pour this into a buttered earthen dish; bake in a quick oven, and serve at once. In all cases where cheese disagrees it will be found that the bi-carbonate of potash renders it harmless. TO BOIL OATMEAL OR CRUSHED WHEAT. Have ready a quart of boiling water in a farina-boiler, or use a small pail set in a saucepan of boiling water. If oatmeal or any grain is boiled in a single saucepan, it forms, no matter how often it is stirred, a thick crust on the bottom; and, as _never to stir_ is a cardinal rule for all these preparations, let the next one be, a double boiler. Add a teaspoonful of salt to the quart of water in the inside boiler. Be sure it is boiling, and then throw in one even cup of oatmeal or crushed wheat. Now _let it alone_ for two hours, only being sure that the water in the outside saucepan does not dry away, but boils steadily. When done, each grain should be distinct, yet jelly-like. Stirring makes a mere mush, neither very attractive nor palatable. If there is not time for this long boiling in the morning, let it be done the afternoon before. Do not turn out the oatmeal, but fill the outer boiler next morning, and let it boil half an hour, or till heated through. COARSE HOMINY. Treat like oatmeal, using same amount to a quart of water, save that it must be thoroughly washed beforehand. Three hours' boiling is better than two. FINE HOMINY. Allow a cupful to a quart of boiling, salted water. Wash it in two or three waters, put over, and boil steadily for half an hour, or till it will pour out easily. If too thin, boil uncovered for a short time. Stir in a tablespoonful of butter before sending to table. Any of these preparations may be cut in slices when cold, floured on each side, and fried brown like mush. FINE HOMINY CAKES. One pint of cold boiled hominy; two eggs; a saltspoonful of salt; and a tablespoonful of butter melted. Break up the hominy fine with a fork, and add salt and butter. Beat the eggs,--whites and yolks separately; add the yolks first, and last the whites; and either fry brown in a little butter or drop by spoonfuls on buttered plates, and bake brown in a quick oven. This is a nice side-dish at dinner. Oatmeal and wheat can be used in the same way at breakfast. HASTY PUDDING, OR MUSH. One cup of sifted Indian meal, stirred smooth in a bowl with a little cold water. Have ready a quart of boiling water, with a teaspoonful of salt, and pour in the meal. Boil half an hour, or till it will just pour, stirring often. To be eaten hot with butter and sirup. Rye or graham flour can be used in the same way. If intended to fry, pour the hot mush into a shallow pan which has been wet with cold water to prevent its sticking. A spoonful of butter may be added while hot, but is not necessary. Cut in thin slices when cold; flour each side; and fry brown in a little butter or nice drippings, serving hot. WHAT TO DO WITH COLD POTATOES. Chop, as for hash; melt a tablespoonful of either butter or nice drippings in a frying-pan; add, for six or eight good-sized potatoes, one even teaspoonful of salt and a saltspoonful of pepper. When the fat boils, put in the potatoes, and fry for about ten minutes, or until well browned. As soon as they are done, if not ready to use, move to the back of the stove, that they may not burn. Or cut each potato in lengthwise slices; dredge on a little flour; and fry brown on each side, watching carefully that they do not burn. The fat from two or three slices of fried salt pork may be used for these. LYONNAISE POTATOES. Slice six cold boiled potatoes. Mince very fine an onion and two or three sprigs of parsley,--enough to fill a teaspoon. Melt in a frying-pan a tablespoonful of butter; put in the onion, and fry light brown; then add the potatoes, and fry to a light brown also, turning them often. Put into a hot dish, stirring in the minced parsley, and pouring over them any butter that may be left in the pan. STEWED POTATOES. One pint of cold boiled potatoes cut in bits; one cup of milk; butter the size of an egg; a heaping teaspoonful of flour. Melt the butter in a saucepan; add the flour, and cook a moment; and pour in the milk, an even teaspoonful of salt, and a saltspoonful of white pepper. When it boils, add the potatoes. Boil a minute, and serve. SARATOGA POTATOES. Pare potatoes, and slice thin as wafers, either with a potato-slicer or a thin-bladed, very sharp knife. Lay in very cold water at least an hour before using. If for breakfast, over-night is better. Have boiling lard at least three inches deep in a frying kettle or pan. Dry the potatoes thoroughly in a towel, and drop in a few slices at a time, frying to a golden brown. Take out with a skimmer, and lay on a double brown paper in the oven to dry, salting them lightly. They may be eaten either hot or cold. Three medium-sized potatoes will make a large dishful; or, as they keep perfectly well, enough may be done at once for several meals, heating them a few minutes in the oven before using. FISH BALLS. One pint of cold salt fish, prepared as on page 136, and chopped very fine. Eight good-sized, freshly-boiled potatoes, or enough to make a quart when mashed. Mash with half a teaspoonful of salt, and a heaping tablespoonful of butter, and, if liked, a teaspoonful of made mustard. Mix in the chopped fish, blending both thoroughly. Make into small, round cakes; flour on each side; and fry brown in a little drippings or fat of fried pork. A nicer way is to make into round balls, allowing a large tablespoonful to each. Roll in flour; or they can be egged and crumbed like croquettes. Drop into boiling lard; drain on brown paper, and serve hot. Fresh fish can be used in the same way, and is very nice. Breadcrumbs, softened in milk, can be used instead of potato, but are not so good. FISH HASH. Use either fresh fish or salt. If the former, double the measure of salt will be needed. Prepare and mix as in fish balls, allowing always double the amount of fresh mashed potato that you have of fish. Melt a large spoonful of butter or drippings in a frying-pan. When hot, put in the fish. Let it stand till brown on the bottom, and then stir. Do this two or three times, letting it brown at the last, pressing it into omelet form, and turning out on a hot platter, or piling it lightly. FISH WITH CREAM. One pint of cold minced fish, either salt cod or fresh fish; always doubling the amount of seasoning given if fresh is used. Melt in a frying-pan a tablespoonful of butter; stir in a heaping one of flour, and cook a minute; then add a pint of milk and a saltspoonful each of salt and pepper. When it boils, stir in the fish, and add two well-beaten eggs. Cook for a minute, and serve very hot. Cold salmon, or that put up unspiced, is nice done in this way. The eggs can be omitted, but it is not as good. If cream is plenty, use part cream. Any cold boiled fresh fish can be used in this way. SALT MACKEREL OR ROE HERRING. Soak over-night, the skin-side up. In the morning wipe dry, and either broil, as in general directions for broiling fish, page 133, or fry brown in pork fat or drippings. Salted shad are treated in the same way. All are better broiled. FRIED SAUSAGES. If in skins, prick them all over with a large darning-needle or fork; throw them into a saucepan of boiling water and boil for one minute. Take out, wipe dry, and lay in a hot frying-pan, in which has been melted a tablespoonful of hot lard or drippings. Turn often. As soon as brown they are done. If gravy is wanted, stir a tablespoonful of flour into the fat in the pan; add a cup of boiling water, and salt to taste,--about a saltspoonful,--and pour, not _over_, but around the sausages. Serve hot. FRIZZLED BEEF. Half a pound of smoked beef cut very thin. This can be just heated in a tablespoonful of hot butter, and then served, or prepared as follows:-- Pour boiling water on the beef, and let it stand five minutes. In the meantime melt in a frying-pan one tablespoonful of butter; stir in a tablespoonful of flour, and add slowly half a pint of milk or water. Put in the beef which has been taken from the water; cook a few minutes, and add two or three well-beaten eggs, cooking only a minute longer. It can be prepared without eggs, or they may be added to the beef just heated in butter; but the last method is best. VEAL LOAF. Three pounds of lean veal and quarter of a pound of salt pork chopped very fine. Mince an onion as fine as possible. Grate a nutmeg, or use half a teaspoonful of powdered mace, mixing it with an even tablespoonful of salt, and an even saltspoonful of cayenne pepper. Add three well-beaten eggs, a teacupful of milk, and a large spoonful of melted butter. Mix the ingredients very thoroughly; form into a loaf; cover thickly with sifted bread or cracker crumbs, and bake three hours, basting now and then with a little butter and water. When cold, cut in thin slices, and use for breakfast or tea. It is good for breakfast with baked potatoes, and slices of it are sometimes served around a salad. A glass of wine is sometimes added before baking. MEAT HASH. The English hash is meat cut either in slices or mouthfuls, and warmed in the gravy; and the Southern hash is the same. A genuine hash, however, requires potato, and may be made of any sort of meat; cold roast beef being excellent, and cold corned beef best of all. Mutton is good; but veal should always be used as a mince, and served on toast as in the rule to be given. Chop the meat fine, and allow one-third meat to two-thirds potato. For corned-beef hash the potatoes should be freshly boiled and mashed. For other cold meats finely-chopped cold potatoes will answer. To a quart of the mixture allow a teaspoonful of salt and half a teaspoonful of pepper mixed together, and sprinkled on the meat before chopping. Heat a tablespoonful of butter or nice drippings in a frying-pan; moisten the hash with a little cold gravy or water; and heat slowly, stirring often. It may be served on buttered toast when hot, without browning, but is better browned. To accomplish this, first heat through, then set on the back of the stove, and let it stand twenty minutes. Fold like an omelet, or turn out in a round, and serve hot. MINCED VEAL. Chop cold veal fine, picking out all bits of gristle. To a pint-bowlful allow a large cup of boiling water; a tablespoonful of butter and one of flour; a teaspoonful of salt; and a saltspoonful each of pepper and mace. Make a _roux_ with the butter and flour, and add the seasoning; put in the veal, and cook five minutes, serving it on buttered toast, made as in directions given for water toast. TOAST, DRY OR BUTTERED. Not one person in a hundred makes good toast; yet nothing can be simpler. Cut the slices of bread evenly, and rather thin. If a wire toaster is used, several can be done at once. Hold just far enough from the fire to brown nicely; and turn often, that there may be no scorching. Toast to an even, golden brown. No rule will secure this, and only experience and care will teach one just what degree of heat will do it. If to be buttered dry, butter each slice evenly as taken from the fire, and pile on a hot plate. If served without butter, either send to table in a toast-rack, or, if on a plate, do not pile together, but let the slices touch as little as possible, that they may not steam and lose crispness. WATER TOAST. Have a pan of boiling hot, well-salted water; a teaspoonful to a quart being the invariable rule. Dip each slice of toast quickly into this. It must not be _wet_, but only moistened. Butter, and pile on a hot plate. Poached eggs and minces are served on this form of toast, which is also nice with fricasseed chicken. MILK TOAST. Scald a quart of milk in a double boiler, and thicken it with two even tablespoonfuls of corn-starch dissolved in a little cold water, or the same amount of flour. Add a teaspoonful of salt, and a heaping tablespoonful of butter. Have ready a dozen slices of water toast, which, unless wanted quite rich, needs no butter. Pour the thickened milk into a pan, that each slice may be easily dipped into it, and pile them when dipped in a deep dish, pouring the rest of the milk over them. Serve very hot. Cream is sometimes used instead of milk, in which case no thickening is put in, and only a pint heated with a saltspoonful of salt. * * * * * TEA, COFFEE, ETC. For these a cardinal rule has already been given in Part I., but can not be enforced too often; viz., the necessity of fresh water boiled, and used as soon as it boils, that the gases which give it character and sparkle may not have had time to escape. Tea and coffee both should be kept from the air, but the former even more carefully than the latter, as the delicate flavor evaporates more quickly. TEA. To begin with, never use a tin teapot if an earthen one is obtainable. An even teaspoonful of dry tea is the usual allowance for a person. Scald the teapot with a little _boiling water_, and pour it off. Put in the tea, and pour on not over a cup of boiling water, letting it stand a minute or two for the leaves to swell. Then fill with the needed amount of _water still boiling_, this being about a small cupful to a person. Cover closely, and let it stand five minutes. Ten will be required for English breakfast tea, but _never boil_ either, above all in a tin pot. Boiling liberates the tannic acid of the tea, which acts upon the tin, making a compound bitter and metallic in taste, and unfit for human stomachs. COFFEE. The best coffee is made from a mixture of two-thirds Java and one-third Mocha; the Java giving strength, and the Mocha flavor and aroma. The roasting must be very perfectly done. If done at home, constant stirring is necessary to prevent burning; but all good grocers use now rotary roasters, which brown each grain perfectly. Buy in small quantities _unground_; keep closely covered; and if the highest flavor is wanted, heat hot before grinding. A noted German chemist claims to have discovered an effectual antidote to the harmful effects of coffee,--an antidote for which he had searched for years. In his experiments he discovered that the fibre of cotton, in its natural state before bleaching, neutralizes the harmful principle of the caffein. To make absolutely harmless coffee which yet has no loss of flavor, it is to be boiled in a bag of unbleached cheese-cloth or something equally porous. In the coffee-pot of his invention, the rounds of cotton are slipped between two cylinders of tin, and the boiling water is poured through once or twice, on the same principle as French filtered coffee. The cloths must be rinsed in hot and then cold water daily and carefully dried; and none are to be used longer than one week, as at the end of that time, even with careful washing, the fibre is saturated with the harmful principle. The same proportions of coffee as those given below are used, and the pot must stand in a hot place while the water filters through. For a quart of coffee allow four heaping tablespoonfuls of coffee when ground. Scald the coffee-pot; mix the ground coffee with a little cold water and two or three egg-shells, which can be dried and kept for this purpose. Part of a fresh egg with the shell is still better. Put into the hot coffee-pot, and pour on one quart of _boiling water_. Cover tightly, and boil five minutes; then pour out a cupful to free the spout from grounds, and return this to the pot. Let it stand a few minutes to settle, and serve with boiled milk, and cream if it is to be had. Never for appearance's sake decant coffee. Much of the flavor is lost by turning from one pot into another, and the shapes are now sufficiently pretty to make the block tin ones not at all unpresentable at table. Where coffee is required for a large company, allow a pound and a half to a gallon of water. Coffee made in a French filter or biggin is considered better by many; but I have preferred to give a rule that may be used with certainty where French cooking utensils are unknown. COCOA, BROMA, AND SHELLS. The directions found on packages of these articles are always reliable. The _cocoa_ or _broma_ should be mixed smoothly with a little boiling water, and added to that in the saucepan; one quart of either requiring a pint each of milk and water, about three tablespoonfuls of cocoa, and a small cup of sugar. A pinch of salt is always a great improvement. Boil for half an hour. SHELLS are merely the husk of the cocoa-nut; and a cupful to a quart of boiling water is the amount needed. Boil steadily an hour, and use with milk and sugar. CHOCOLATE. This rule, though unlike that given in cook-books generally, makes a drink in consistency and flavor like that offered at Maillard's or Mendee's, the largest chocolate manufacturers in the country. Scrape or grate fine two squares (two ounces) of Baker's or any unsweetened chocolate. Add to this one small cup of sugar and a pinch of salt, and put into a saucepan with a tablespoonful of water. Stir for a few minutes till smooth and glossy, and then pour in gradually one pint of milk and one of boiling water. Let all boil a minute. Dissolve one heaping teaspoonful of corn-starch or arrow-root in a little cold water, and add to the chocolate. Boil one minute, and serve. If cream can be had, whip to a stiff froth, allowing two tablespoonfuls of sugar and a few drops of vanilla essence to a cup of cream. Serve a spoonful laid on the top of the chocolate in each cup. The corn-starch may be omitted, but is necessary to the perfection of this rule, the following of which renders the chocolate not only smooth, but entirely free from any oily particles. Flavor is lost by any longer boiling, though usually half an hour has been considered necessary. * * * * * VEGETABLES. POTATOES. To be able to boil a potato perfectly is one of the tests of a good cook, there being nothing in the whole range of vegetables which is apparently so difficult to accomplish. Like the making of good bread, nothing is simpler when once learned. A good boiled potato should be white, mealy, and served very hot. If the potatoes are old, peel thinly with a sharp knife; cut out all spots, and let them lie in cold water some hours before using. It is more economical to boil before peeling, as the best part of the potato lies next the skin; but most prefer them peeled. Put on in boiling water, allowing a teaspoonful of salt to every quart of water. Medium-sized potatoes will boil in half an hour. Let them be as nearly of a size as possible, and if small and large are cooked at the same time, put on the large ones ten or fifteen minutes before the small. When done, pour off every drop of water; cover with a clean towel, and set on the back of the range to dry for a few minutes before serving. The poorest potato can be made tolerable by this treatment. Never let them wait for other things, but time the preparation of dinner so that they will be ready at the moment needed. New potatoes require no peeling, but should merely be well washed and rubbed. MASHED POTATOES. Boil as directed, and when dry and mealy, mash fine with a potato-masher or large spoon, allowing for a dozen medium-sized potatoes a piece of butter the size of an egg, half a cup of milk, a teaspoonful of salt, and half a teaspoonful of white pepper. The milk may be omitted if the potato is preferred dry. Pile lightly in a dish, or smooth over, and serve at once. Never brown in the oven, as it destroys the good flavor. POTATO SNOW. Mash as above, and rub through a colander into a very hot dish, being careful not to press it down in any way, and serve hot as possible. BAKED POTATOES. Wash and scrub carefully, as some persons eat the skin. A large potato requires an hour to bake. Their excellence depends upon being eaten the moment they are done. POTATOES WITH BEEF. Pare, and lay in cold water at least an hour. An hour before a roast of beef is done, lay in the pan, and baste them when the beef is basted. They are very nice. POTATO CROQUETTES. Cold mashed potatoes may be used, but fresh is better. To half a dozen potatoes, mashed as in directions given, allow quarter of a saltspoonful each of mace or nutmeg and cayenne pepper, and one beaten egg. Make in little balls or rolls; egg and crumb, and fry in boiling lard. Drain on brown paper, and serve like chicken croquettes. SWEET POTATOES. Wash carefully, and boil without peeling from three-quarters of an hour to an hour. Peel, and dry in the oven ten minutes. They are better baked, requiring about an hour for medium-sized ones. BEETS. Winter beets should be soaked over-night. Wash them carefully; but never peel or even prick them, as color and sweetness would be lost. Put in boiling, salted water. Young beets will cook in two hours; old ones require five or six. Peel, and if large, cut in slices, putting a little butter on each one. They can be served cold in a little vinegar. PARSNIPS. Wash, and scrape clean; cut lengthwise in halves, and boil an hour, or two if very old. Serve whole with a little drawn butter, or mash fine, season well, allowing to half a dozen large parsnips a teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful of pepper, and a tablespoonful of butter. PARSNIP FRITTERS. Three large parsnips boiled and mashed fine, adding two well-beaten eggs, half a teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful of pepper, two tablespoonfuls of milk, and one heaping one of flour. Drop in spoonfuls, and fry brown in a little hot butter. _Oyster-plant_ fritters are made in the same way. OYSTER-PLANT STEWED. Scrape, and throw at once into cold water with a little vinegar in it, to keep them from turning black. Cut in small pieces, or boil whole for an hour. Mash fine, and make like parsnip fritters; or drain the pieces dry, and serve with drawn butter. CARROTS. Carrots are most savory boiled with corned beef for two hours. They may also be boiled plain, cut in slices, and served with drawn butter. For old carrots not less than two hours will be necessary. Plenty of water must be used, and when cold the carrots are to be cut in dice. Melt in a saucepan a spoonful of butter; add half a teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful of pepper, and a teaspoonful of sugar, and when the butter boils put in the carrots, and stir till heated through. Pile them in the centre of a platter, and put around them a can of French peas, which have been cooked in only a spoonful of water, with a teaspoonful of sugar, a spoonful of butter, half a teaspoonful of salt, and a dash of pepper. This is a pretty and excellent dish, and substantial as meat. A cup of stock can be added to the carrots if desired, but they are better without it. TURNIPS. Pare and cut in quarters. Boil in well-salted water for an hour, or until tender. Drain off the water, and let them stand a few minutes to dry; then mash fine, allowing for about a quart a teaspoonful of salt, half a one of pepper, and a piece of butter the size of a walnut. Or they may be left in pieces, and served with drawn butter. CABBAGE. Wash, and look over very carefully, and lay in cold water an hour. Cut in quarters, and boil with corned beef an hour, or till tender, or with a small piece of salt pork. Drain, and serve whole as possible. A much nicer way is to boil in well-salted water, changing it once after the first half-hour. Boil an hour; take up and drain; chop fine, and add a teacupful of milk, a piece of butter the size of an egg, a teaspoonful of salt, and half a one of pepper. Serve very hot. For cabbage Virginia fashion, and the best of fashions, too, bake this last form in a buttered pudding-dish, having first stirred in two or three well-beaten eggs, and covered the top with bread-crumbs. Bake till brown. CAULIFLOWER. Wash and trim, and boil in a bag made of mosquito-netting to keep it whole. Boil steadily in well-salted water for one hour. Dish carefully, and pour over it a nice drawn butter. Any cold remains may be used as salad, or chopped and baked, as in rule for baked cabbage. ONIONS. If milk is plenty, use equal quantities of skim-milk and water, allowing a quart of each for a dozen or so large onions. If water alone is used, change it after the first half-hour, as this prevents their turning dark; salting as for all vegetables, and boiling young onions one hour; old ones, two. Either chop fine, and add a spoonful of butter, half a teaspoonful of salt, and a little pepper, or serve them whole in a dressing made by heating one cup of milk with the same butter and other seasoning as when chopped. Put the onions in a hot dish, pour this over them, and serve. They may also be half boiled; then put in a buttered dish, covered with this sauce and a layer of bread-crumbs, and baked for an hour. WINTER SQUASH. Cut in two, and take out the seeds and fiber. Half will probably be enough to cook at once. Cut this in pieces; pare off the rind, and lay each piece in a steamer. Never boil in water if it can be avoided, as it must be as dry as possible. Steam for two hours. Mash fine, or run through a vegetable sifter, and, for a quart or so of squash, allow a piece of butter the size of an egg, a teaspoonful of salt, and a saltspoonful of pepper. Serve very hot. SUMMER SQUASH, OR CIMLINS. Steam as directed above, taking out the seeds, but not peeling them. Mash through a colander; season, and serve hot. If very young, the seeds are often cooked in them. Half an hour will be sufficient. PEASE. Shell, and put over in boiling, salted water, to which a teaspoonful of sugar has been added. Boil till tender, half an hour or a little more. Drain off the water; add a piece of butter the size of an egg, and a saltspoonful of salt. If the pease are old, put a bit of soda the size of a pea in the water. FIELD PEASE. These are generally used after drying. Soak over-night, and boil two hours, or till tender, with or without a small piece of bacon. If without, butter as for green pease. Or they can be mashed fine, rubbed through a sieve, and then seasoned, adding a pinch of cayenne pepper. In Virginia they are often boiled, mashed a little, and fried in a large cake. SUCCOTASH. Boil green corn and beans separately. Cut the corn from the cob, and season both as in either alone. A nicer way, however, is to score the rows in half a dozen ears of corn; scrape off the corn; add a pint of lima or any nice green bean, and boil one hour in a quart of boiling water, with one teaspoonful each of salt and sugar, and a saltspoonful of pepper. Let the water boil away to about a cupful; add a spoonful of butter, and serve in a hot dish. Many, instead of butter, use with it a small piece of pork,--about quarter of a pound; but it is better without. A spoonful of cream may be added. Canned corn and beans may be used; and even dried beans and coarse hominy--the former well soaked, and both boiled together three hours--are very good. STRING BEANS. String, cut in bits, and boil an hour if very young. If old, an hour and an half, or even two, may be needed. Drain off the water, and season like green pease. SHELLED BEANS. Any green bean may be used in this way, lima and butter beans being the nicest. Put on in boiling, salted water, and boil not less than one hour. Season like string beans. GREEN CORN. Husk, and pick off all the silk. Boil in well-salted water, and serve on the cob, wrapped in a napkin, or cut off and seasoned like beans. Cutting down through each row gives, when scraped off, the kernel without the hull. GREEN-CORN FRITTERS. One pint of green corn grated. This will require about six ears. Mix with this, half a cup of milk, two well-beaten eggs, half a cup of flour, one teaspoonful of salt, half a teaspoonful of pepper, and a tablespoonful of melted butter. Fry in very small cakes in a little hot butter, browning well on both sides. Serve very hot. CORN PUDDING. One pint of cut or grated corn, one pint of milk, two well-beaten eggs, one teaspoonful of salt, and a saltspoonful of pepper. Butter a pudding-dish, and bake the mixture half an hour. Canned corn can be used in the same way. EGG-PLANT. Peel, cut in slices half an inch thick, and lay them in well-salted water for an hour. Wipe dry; dip in flour or meal, and fry brown on each side. Fifteen minutes will be needed to cook sufficiently. The slices can be egged and crumbed before frying, and are nicer than when merely floured. EGG-PLANT FRITTERS. Peel the egg-plant, and take out the seeds. Boil for an hour in well-salted water. Drain as dry as possible; mash fine, and prepare precisely like corn fritters. BAKED EGG-PLANT. Peel, and cut out a piece from the top; remove the seeds, and fill the space with a dressing like that for ducks, fitting in the piece cut out. Bake an hour, basting with a spoonful of butter melted in a cup of water, and dredging with flour between each basting. It is very nice. ASPARAGUS. Wash, and cut off almost all of the white end. Tie up in small bundles; put into boiling, salted water, and cook till tender,--about half an hour, or more if old. Make some slices of water toast, as in rule given, using the water in which the asparagus was boiled; lay the slices on a hot platter, and the asparagus upon them, pouring a spoonful of melted butter over it. The asparagus may be cut in little bits, and, when boiled, a drawn butter poured over it, or served on toast, as when left whole. Cold asparagus may be cut fine, and used in an omelet, or simply warmed over. SPINACH. Not less than a peck is needed for a dinner for three or four. Pick over carefully, wash, and let it lie in cold water an hour or two. Put on in boiling, salted water, and boil an hour, or until tender. Take up in a colander, that it may drain perfectly. Have in a hot dish a piece of butter the size of an egg, half a teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful of pepper, and, if liked, a tablespoonful of vinegar. Chop the spinach fine, and put in the dish, stirring in this dressing thoroughly. A teacupful of cream is often added. Any tender greens, beet or turnip tops, kale, &c., are treated in this way; kale, however, requiring two hours' boiling. ARTICHOKES. Cut off the outside leaves; trim the bottom; throw into boiling, salted water, with a teaspoonful of vinegar in it, and boil an hour. Season, and serve like turnips, or with drawn butter poured over them. TOMATOES STEWED. Pour on boiling water to take off the skins; cut in pieces, and stew slowly for half an hour; adding for a dozen tomatoes a tablespoonful of butter, a teaspoonful of salt, a saltspoonful of pepper, and a teaspoonful of sugar. Where they are preferred sweet, two tablespoonfuls of sugar will be necessary. They may be thickened with a tablespoonful of flour or corn-starch dissolved in a little cold water, or with half a cup of rolled cracker or bread crumbs. Canned tomatoes are stewed in the same way. BAKED TOMATOES. Take off the skins; lay the tomatoes in a buttered pudding-dish; put a bit of butter on each one. Mix a teaspoonful of salt, and a saltspoonful of pepper, with a cup of bread or cracker crumbs, and cover the top. Bake an hour. Or cut the tomatoes in bits, and put a layer of them and one of seasoned crumbs, ending with crumbs. Dot the top with bits of butter, that it may brown well, and bake in the same way. Canned tomatoes are almost equally good. Thin slices of well-buttered bread may be used instead of crumbs. FRIED TOMATOES. Cut in thick slices. Mix in a plate half a teacupful of flour, a saltspoonful of salt, and half a one of pepper; and dip each slice in this, frying brown in hot butter. BROILED TOMATOES. Prepare as for frying, and broil in a wire broiler, putting a bit of butter on each slice when brown, and serving on a hot dish or on buttered toast. RICE. Wash in cold water, changing it at least twice. It is better if allowed to soak an hour. Drain, and throw into a good deal of boiling, salted water, allowing not less than two quarts to a cupful of rice. Boil twenty minutes, stirring now and then. Pour into a colander, that every drop of water may drain off, and then set it at the back of the stove to dry for ten minutes. In this way every grain is distinct, yet perfectly tender. If old, half an hour's boiling may be required. Test by biting a grain at the end of twenty minutes. If tender, it is done. RICE CROQUETTES. Where used as a vegetable with dinner, to a pint of cold boiled rice allow a tablespoonful of melted butter and one or two well-beaten eggs. Mix thoroughly. A pinch of cayenne or a little chopped parsley may be added. Make in the shape of corks; egg and crumb, and fry a golden brown. MACARONI. Never wash macaroni if it can be avoided. Break in lengths of three or four inches and throw into boiling, salted water, allowing quarter of a pound for a dinner for three or four. Boil for half an hour, and drain off the water. It may be served plain with tomato sauce, or simply buttered, or with drawn butter poured over it. MACARONI WITH CHEESE. Boil as directed. Make a pint of white sauce or _roux_, as on p. 169, using milk if it can be had, though water answers. Have a cupful of good grated cheese. Butter a pudding-dish. Put in a layer of macaroni, one of sauce, and one of cheese, ending with cheese. Dust the top with sifted bread or cracker crumbs, dot with bits of butter, and bake fifteen minutes in a quick oven. It can be baked in the same way without cheese, or with simply a cup of milk and two eggs added, making a sort of pudding. * * * * * BREAD AND BREAKFAST CAKES. BREAD-MAKING AND FLOUR. Much of the health, and consequently much of the happiness, of the family depends upon good bread: therefore no pains should be spared in learning the best method of making, which will prove easiest in the end. Yeast, flour, kneading, and baking must each be perfect, and nothing in the whole range of cooking is of such prime importance. Once master the problem of yeast, and the first form of wheat bread, and endless varieties of both bread and breakfast cakes can be made. The old and the new process flour--the former being known as the St. Louis, and the latter as Haxall flour--are now to be had at all good grocers; and from either good bread may be made, though that from the latter keeps moist longer. Potapsco flour is of the same quality as the St. Louis. It contains more starch than the St. Louis, and for this reason requires, even more than that, the use in the family of coarser or graham flour at the same time; white bread alone not being as nutritious or strengthening, for reasons given in Part I. Graham flour is fast being superseded by a much better form, prepared principally by the Health Food Company in New York, in which the entire grain, save the husk, is ground as fine as the ordinary flour, thus doing away with the coarseness that many have objected to in graham bread. Flour made by the new process swells more than that by the old, and a little less quantity--about an eighth less--is therefore required in mixing and kneading. As definite rules as possible are given for the whole operation; but experience alone can insure perfect bread, changes of temperature affecting it at once, and baking being also a critical point. Pans made of thick tin, or, better still, of Russia iron, ten inches long, four or five wide, and four deep, make the best-shaped loaf, and one requiring a reasonably short time to bake. YEAST. Ingredients: One teacupful of lightly broken hops; one pint of sifted flour; one cupful of sugar; one tablespoonful of salt; four large or six medium-sized potatoes; and two quarts of boiling water. Boil the potatoes, and mash them fine. At the same time, having tied the hops in a little bag, boil them for half an hour in the two quarts of water, but in another saucepan. Mix the flour, sugar, and salt well together in a large mixing-bowl, and pour on the boiling hop-water, stirring constantly. Now add enough of this to the mashed potato to thin it till it can be poured, and mix all together, straining it through a sieve to avoid any possible lumps. Add to this, when cool, either a cupful of yeast left from the last, or of baker's yeast, or a Twin Brothers' yeast cake dissolved in a little warm water. Let it stand till partly light, and then stir down two or three times in the course of five or six hours, as this makes it stronger. At the end of that time it will be light. Keep in a covered stone jar, or in glass cans. By stirring in corn-meal till a dough is made, and then forming it in small cakes and drying in the sun, _dry yeast_ is made, which keeps better than the liquid in hot weather. Crumb, and soak in warm water half an hour before using. _Potato yeast_ is made by omitting hops and flour, but mashing the potatoes fine with the same proportion of other ingredients, and adding the old yeast, when cool, as before. It is very nice, but must be made fresh every week; while the other, kept in a cool place, will be good a month. BREAD. For four loaves of bread of the pan-size given above, allow as follows: Four quarts of flour; one large cup of yeast; one tablespoonful of salt, one of sugar, and one of butter or lard; one pint of milk mixed with one of warm water, or one quart of water alone for the "wetting." Sift the flour into a large pan or bowl. Put the sugar, salt, and butter in the bottom of the bread pan or bowl, and pour on a spoonful or two of boiling water, enough to dissolve all. Add the quart of wetting, and the yeast. Now stir in slowly two quarts of the flour; cover with a cloth, and set in a temperature of about 75° to rise until morning. Bread mixed at nine in the evening will be ready to mould into loaves or rolls by six the next morning. In summer it would be necessary to find a cool place; in winter a warm one,--the chief point being to keep the temperature _even_. If mixed early in the morning, it is ready to mold and bake in the afternoon, from seven to eight hours being all it should stand. This first mixture is called a _sponge_; and, if only a loaf of graham or rye bread is wanted, one quart of it can be measured, and thickened with other flour as in the rules given hereafter. To finish as _wheat bread_, stir in enough flour from the two quarts remaining to make a dough. Flour the molding-board very thickly, and turn out. Now begin kneading, flouring the hands, but after the dough is gathered into a smooth lump, using as little flour as may be. Knead with the palm of the hand as much as possible. The dough quickly becomes a flat cake. Fold it over, and keep on, kneading not less than twenty minutes; half an hour being better. Make into loaves; put into the pans; set them in a warm place, and let them rise from thirty to forty-five minutes, or till they have become nearly double in size. Bake in an oven hot enough to brown a teaspoonful of flour in one minute; spreading the flour on a bit of broken plate, that it may have an even heat. Loaves of this size will bake in from forty-five to sixty minutes. Then take them from the pans; wrap in thick cloths kept for the purpose and stand them, tilted up against the pans till cold. Never lay hot bread on a pine table, as it will sweat, and absorb the pitchy odor and taste; but tilt, so that air may pass around it freely. Keep well covered in a tin box or large stone pot, which should be wiped out every day or two, and scalded and dried thoroughly now and then. Pans for wheat bread should be greased very lightly; for graham or rye, much more, as the dough sticks and clings. Instead of mixing a sponge, all the flour may be molded in and kneaded at once, and the dough set to rise in the same way. When light, turn out. Use as little flour as possible, and knead for fifteen minutes; less time being required, as part of the kneading has already been done. GRAHAM BREAD. One quart of wheat sponge; one even quart of graham flour; half a teacupful of brown sugar or molasses; half a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a little hot water; and half a teaspoonful of salt. Pour the sponge in a deep bowl; stir in the molasses, &c, and lastly the flour, which must never be sifted. The mixture should be so stiff, that the spoon moves with difficulty. Bake in two loaves for an hour or an hour and a quarter, graham requiring longer baking than wheat. If no sponge can be spared, make as follows: One pint of milk or water; half a cup of sugar or molasses; half a cup of yeast; one teaspoonful of salt; one cup of wheat flour; two cups of graham. Warm the milk or water; add the yeast and other ingredients, and then the flour; and set in a cool place--about 60° Fahrenheit--over-night, graham bread souring more easily than wheat. Early in the morning stir well; put into two deep, well-greased pans; let it rise an hour in a warm place, and bake one hour. GRAHAM MUFFINS. These are made by the same rule as the bread. Fill the muffin-pans two-thirds full; let them rise till even with the top of the pans, which will take about an hour; and bake in a quick oven twenty minutes. To make them a little nicer, a large spoonful of melted butter may be added, and two beaten eggs. This will require longer to rise, as butter clogs the air-cells, and makes the working of the yeast slower. The quantities given for bread will make two dozen muffins. RYE BREAD. This bread is made by nearly the same rule as the graham, either using wheat sponge, or setting one over-night, but is kneaded slightly. Follow the rule just given, substituting rye for graham, but use enough rye to make a dough which can be turned out. It will take a quart. Use wheat flour for the molding-board and hands, as rye is very sticky; and knead only long enough to get into good shape. Raise, and bake as in rule for graham bread. RYE MUFFINS. Make by above rule, but use only one pint of rye flour, adding two eggs and a spoonful of melted butter, and baking in the same way. A set of earthen cups are excellent for both these and graham muffins, as the heat in baking is more even. They are used also for pop-overs, Sunderland puddings, and some small cakes. BROWN BREAD. Sift together into a deep bowl one even cup of Indian meal, two heaping cups of rye flour, one even teaspoonful of salt, and one of soda. To one pint of hot water add one cup of molasses, and stir till well mixed. Make a hole in the middle of the meal, and stir in the molasses and water, beating all till smooth. Butter a tin pudding-boiler, or a three-pint tin pail, and put in the mixture, setting the boiler into a kettle or saucepan of boiling water. Boil steadily for four hours, keeping the water always at the same level. At the end of that time, take out the boiler, and set in the oven for fifteen minutes to dry and form a crust. Turn out, and serve hot. Milk may be used instead of water, or the same mixture raised over-night with half a cup of yeast, and then steamed. PLAIN ROLLS. A pint-bowlful of bread dough will make twelve small rolls. Increase amount of dough if more are desired. Flour the molding-board lightly, and work into the dough a piece of butter or lard the size of an egg. Knead not less than fifteen minutes, and cut into round cakes, which may be flattened and folded over, if folded or pocket rolls are wanted. In this case put a bit of butter or lard the size of a pea between the folds. For a cleft or French roll make the dough into small round balls, and press a knife-handle almost through the center of each. Put them about an inch apart in well-buttered pans, and let them rise an hour and a half before baking. They require more time to rise than large loaves, as, being small, heat penetrates them almost at once, and thus there is very little rising in the oven. Bake in a quick oven twenty minutes. PARKER-HOUSE ROLLS. Two quarts of flour; one pint of milk; butter the size of an egg; one tablespoonful of sugar; one teacupful of good yeast; one teaspoonful of salt. Boil the milk, and add the butter, salt, and sugar. Sift the flour into a deep bowl, and, when the milk is merely blood-warm, stir together with enough of the flour to form a batter or sponge. Do this at nine or ten in the evening, and set in a cool place, from 50° to 60°. Next morning about nine mix in the remainder of the flour; turn on to the molding-board; and knead for twenty minutes, using as little flour as possible. Return to the bowl, and set in cool place again till about four in the afternoon. Knead again for fifteen minutes; roll out, and cut into rounds, treating them as in plain rolls. Let them rise one hour, and bake twenty minutes. One kneading makes a good breakfast roll; but, to secure the peculiar delicacy of a "Parker-House," two are essential, and they are generally baked as a folded or pocket roll. If baked round, make the dough into a long roll on the board; cut off small pieces, and make into round balls with the hand, setting them well apart in the pan. SODA AND CREAM OF TARTAR BISCUIT. One quart of flour; one even teaspoonful of salt; one teaspoonful of soda, and two of cream of tartar; a piece of lard or butter the size of an egg; and a large cup of milk or water. Mix the soda, cream of tartar, and salt with the flour, having first mashed them fine, and sift all together twice. Rub the shortening in with the hands till perfectly fine. Add the milk; mix and roll out as quickly as possible; cut in rounds, and bake in a quick oven. If properly made, they are light as puffs; but their success depends upon thorough and rapid mixing and baking. BAKING-POWDER BISCUIT. Make as above, using two heaping teaspoonfuls of baking powder, instead of the soda and cream of tartar. BEATEN BISCUIT. Three pints of sifted flour; one cup of lard; one teaspoonful of salt. Rub the lard and flour well together, and make into a very stiff dough with about a cup of milk or water: a little more may be necessary. Beat the dough with a rolling-pin for half an hour, or run through the little machine that comes for the purpose. Make into small biscuit, prick several times, and bake till brown. WAFERS. One pint of sifted flour; a piece of butter the size of a walnut; half a teaspoonful of salt. Rub butter and flour together, and make into dough with half a cup of warm milk. Beat half an hour with the rolling-pin. Then take a bit of it no larger than a nut, and roll to the size of a saucer. They can not be too thin. Flour the pans lightly, and bake in a quick oven from five to ten minutes. WAFFLES. One pint of flour; one teaspoonful of baking powder; half a teaspoonful of salt; three eggs; butter the size of an egg; and one and a quarter cups of milk. Sift salt and baking powder with the flour; rub in the butter. Mix and add the beaten yolks and milk, and last stir in the whites which have been beaten to a stiff froth. Bake at once in well-greased waffle-irons. By using two cups of milk, the mixture is right for pancakes. If sour milk is used, substitute soda for the baking powder. Sour cream makes delicious waffles. RICE OR HOMINY WAFFLES. One pint of warm boiled rice or hominy; one cup of sweet or sour milk; butter the size of a walnut; three eggs; one teaspoonful of salt and one of soda sifted with one pint of flour. Stir rice and milk together; add the beaten yolks; then the flour, and last the whites beaten stiff. By adding a small cup more of milk, rice pancakes can be made. Boiled oatmeal or wheaten grits may be substituted for the rice. BREAKFAST PUFFS OR POP-OVERS. One pint of flour, one pint of milk, and one egg. Stir the milk into the flour; beat the egg very light, and add it, stirring it well in. Meantime have a set of gem-pans well buttered, heating in the oven. Put in the dough (the material is enough for a dozen puffs), and bake for half an hour in a _very hot oven_. This is one of the simplest but most delicate breakfast cakes made. Ignorant cooks generally spoil several batches by persisting in putting in baking powder or soda, as they can not believe that the puffs will rise without. SHORT-CAKE. One quart of flour; one teaspoonful of salt and two of baking powder sifted with the flour; one cup of butter, or half lard and half butter; one large cup of hot milk. Rub the butter into the flour. Add the milk, and roll out the dough, cutting in small square cakes and baking to a light brown. For a strawberry or peach short-cake have three tin pie-plates buttered; roll the dough to fit them, and bake quickly. Fill either, when done, with a quart of strawberries or raspberries mashed with a cup of sugar, or with peaches cut fine and sugared, and served hot. CORN BREAD. Two cups of corn meal; one cup of flour; one teaspoonful of soda and one of salt; one heaping tablespoonful of butter; a teacup full of sugar; three eggs; two cups of sour milk, the more creamy the better. If sweet milk is used, substitute baking powder for soda. Sift meal, flour, soda, and salt together; beat the yolks of the eggs with the sugar; add the milk, and stir into the meal; melt the butter, and stir in, beating hard for five minutes. Beat the whites stiff, and stir in, and bake at once either in one large, round loaf, or in tin pie-plates. The loaf will need half an hour or a little more; the pie-plates, not over twenty minutes. This can be baked as muffins, or, by adding another cup of milk, becomes a pancake mixture. HOE-CAKE. One quart of corn meal; one teaspoon full of salt; one tablespoonful of melted lard; one large cup of boiling water. Melt the lard in the water. Mix the salt with the meal, and pour on the water, stirring it into a dough. When cool, make either into one large oval cake or two smaller ones, and bake in the oven to a bright brown, which will take about half an hour; or make in small cakes, and bake slowly on a griddle, browning well on each side. Genuine hoe-cake is baked before an open fire on a board. BUCKWHEAT CAKES. Two cups of buckwheat flour; one of wheat flour; one of corn meal; half a cup of yeast; one teaspoonful of salt; one quart of boiling water. Mix the corn meal and salt, and pour on the boiling water very slowly, that the meal may swell. As soon as merely warm, stir in the sifted flour and yeast. All buckwheat may be used, instead of part wheat flour. Beat well, cover, and put in a cool place,--about 60°. In the morning stir well, and add half a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a little warm water. Grease the griddle with a bit of salt pork on a fork, or a _very little_ drippings rubbed over it evenly, but never have it floating with fat, as many cooks do. Drop in large spoonfuls, and bake and serve _few at a time_, or they will become heavy and unfit to eat. If a cupful of the batter is saved, no yeast need be used for the next baking, and in cold weather this can be done for a month. HUCKLEBERRY CAKE. One quart of flour; one teaspoonful of salt and two of baking powder sifted with the flour; one pint of huckleberries; half a cup of butter; two eggs; two cups of sweet milk; two cups of sugar. Cream the butter, and add the sugar and yolks of eggs; stir in the milk, and add the flour slowly; then beating the whites of the eggs stiff, and adding them. Have the huckleberries picked over, washed, dried, and well dusted with flour. Stir them in last of all; fill the pans three-quarters full, and bake in a moderate oven for about half an hour. APPLE CAKE. Make as above; but, instead of huckleberries, use one pint of sour, tender apples, cut in thin slices. It is a delicious breakfast or tea cake. BROWN-BREAD BREWIS. Dry all bits of crust or bread in the oven, browning them nicely. To a pint of these, allow one quart of milk, half a cup of butter, and a teaspoonful of salt. Boil the milk; add the butter and salt, and then the browned bread, and simmer slowly for fifteen minutes, or until perfectly soft. It is very nice. Bits of white bread or sea biscuit can be used in the same way. CRISPED CRACKERS. Split large soft crackers, what is called the "Boston cracker" being best; butter them well as for eating; lay the buttered halves in baking-pans, and brown in a quick oven. Good at any meal. SOUR BREAD. If, by any mishap, bread has soured a little, make into water toast or brewis, adding a teaspoonful of soda to the water or milk. TO USE DRY BREAD. Brown in the oven every scrap that is left, seeing that it does not scorch. Roll while hot and crisp, and sift, using the fine crumbs for croquettes, &c., and the coarser ones for puddings and pancakes. Keep dry in glass jars; or tin cans will answer. BREAD PANCAKES. One cup of coarse crumbs, soaked over-night in a quart of warm milk, or milk and water. In the morning mash fine, and run through a sieve. Add three eggs well beaten, half a cup of flour, a large spoonful of sugar, a teaspoonful of salt, and, if liked, a little nutmeg. If the bread was in the least sour, add a teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a little warm water. Bake like pancakes, but more slowly. TO FRESHEN STALE BREAD OR ROLLS. Wrap in a cloth, and steam for ten or fifteen minutes in a steamer. Then dry in the oven. Rolls or biscuits may have the top crust wet with a little melted butter, and then brown a minute after steaming. * * * * * CAKE. CAKE-MAKING. In all cake-making, see that every thing is ready to your hand,--pans buttered, or papered if necessary; flour sifted; all spices and other materials on your working-table; and the fire in good order. No matter how plain the cake, there is a certain order in mixing, which, if followed, produces the best result from the materials used; and this order is easily reduced to rules. First, always cream the butter; that is, stir it till light and creamy. If very cold, heat the bowl a little, but never enough to melt, only to soften the butter. Second, add the sugar to the butter, and mix thoroughly. Third, if eggs are used, beat yolks and whites separately for a delicate cake; add yolks to sugar and butter, and beat together a minute. For a plain cake, beat yolks and whites together (a Dover egg-beater doing this better than any thing else can), and add to butter and sugar. Fourth, if milk is used, add this. Fifth, stir in the measure of flour little by little, and beat smooth. Flavoring may be added at any time. If dry spices are used, mix them with the sugar. Always sift baking powder with the flour. If soda and cream of tartar are used, sift the cream of tartar with the flour, and dissolve the soda in a little milk or warm water. For very delicate cakes, powdered sugar is best. For gingerbreads and small cakes or cookies, light brown answers. Where fruit cake is to be made, raisins should be stoned and chopped, and currants washed and dried, the day beforehand. A cup of currants being a nice and inexpensive addition to buns or any plain cake, it is well to prepare several pounds at once, drying thoroughly, and keeping in glass jars. Being the very dirtiest article known to the storeroom, currants require at least three washings in warm water, rubbing them well in the hands. Then spread them out on a towel, and proceed to pick out all the sticks, grit, small stones, and legs and wings to be found; then put the fruit into a slow oven, and dry it carefully, that none may scorch. In baking, a moderate oven is one in which a teaspoonful of flour will brown while you count thirty; a quick one, where but twelve can be counted. The "cup" used in all these receipts is the ordinary kitchen cup, holding half a pint. The measures of flour are, in all cases, of _sifted flour_, which can be sifted by the quantity, and kept in a wooden pail. "Prepared flour" is especially nice for doughnuts and plain cakes. No great variety of receipts is given, as every family is sure to have one enthusiastic cake-maker who gleans from all sources; and this book aims to give fuller space to substantials than to sweets. Half the energy spent by many housekeepers upon cake would insure the perfect bread, which, nine times out of ten, is not found upon their tables, and success in which they count an impossibility. If cake is to be made, however, let it be done in the most perfect way; seeing only that bread is first irreproachable. SPONGE CAKE. One pound of the finest granulated, or of powdered, sugar; half a pound of sifted flour; ten eggs; grated rind of two lemons, and the juice of one; and a saltspoonful of salt. Break the eggs, yolks and whites separately, and beat the yolks to a creamy froth. Beat the whites till they can be turned upside down without spilling. Put yolks and whites together, and beat till blended; then add the sugar slowly; then the lemon rind and juice and the salt, and last the flour. Whisk together as lightly and quickly as possible. Turn into either three buttered bread-pans of the size given on p. 201, or bake in a large loaf, as preferred. Fill the pans two-thirds full, and, when in the oven, do not open it for ten minutes. Bake about half an hour, and test by running a clean broom-straw into the loaf. If it comes out dry, they are done. Turn out, and cool on a sieve, or on the pans turned upside down. ROLLED JELLY CAKE. Three eggs, yolks and whites beaten separately; one heaped cup of sugar; one scant cup of flour in which a teaspoonful of baking powder and a pinch of salt have been sifted; quarter of a cup of boiling water. Mix as in sponge cake; add the water last, and bake in a large roasting-pan, spreading the batter as thinly as possible. It will bake in ten minutes. When done, and while still hot, spread with any acid jelly, and roll carefully from one side. This cake is nice for lining Charlotte-Russe molds also. For that purpose the water may be omitted, its only use being to make the cake roll more easily. CUP CAKE. One cup of butter; two cups of sugar; four eggs, yolks and whites beaten separately; one cup of milk; three and a half cups of flour; a grated nutmeg, or a teaspoonful of vanilla or lemon; and a heaping teaspoonful of baking powder. Cream the butter; add the sugar, and then the yolks; then the milk and the whites, and last the flour, in which the baking powder has been sifted. Bake half an hour, either in two brick loaves or one large one. It is nice, also, baked in little tins. Half may be flavored with essence, and the other half with a teaspoonful of mixed spice,--half cinnamon, and the rest mace and allspice. By using a heaping tablespoonful of yellow ginger, this becomes a delicious sugar gingerbread, or, with mixed spices and ginger, a spice gingerbread. This cake with the variations upon it makes up page after page in the large cook-books. Use but half a cup of butter, and you have a plain _Cup Cake_. Add a cup of currants and one of chopped raisins, and it is plain _Fruit Cake_, needing to bake one hour. Bake on Washington-pie tins, and you have the foundation for _Cream_ and _Jelly Cakes_. A little experience, and then invention, will show you how varied are the combinations, and how one page in your cook-book can do duty for twenty. POUND CAKE. One pound of sugar; one pound of flour; three-quarters of a pound of butter; nine eggs; one teaspoonful of baking powder, and one of lemon extract; one nutmeg grated. Cream the butter, and add half the flour, sifting the baking powder with the other half. Beat the yolks to a creamy foam, and add; and then the sugar, beating hard. Have the whites a stiff froth, and stir in, adding flavoring and remainder of flour. Bake in one large loaf for one hour, letting the oven be moderate. Frost, if liked. FRUIT CAKE. One pound of butter; one pound of sugar; one pound and a quarter of sifted flour; ten eggs; two nutmegs grated; a tablespoonful each of ground cloves, cinnamon, and allspice; a teaspoonful of soda; a cup of brandy or wine, and one of dark molasses; one pound of citron; two pounds of stoned and chopped raisins, and two of currants washed and dried. Dredge the prepared fruit with enough of the flour to coat it thoroughly. To have the cake very dark and rich looking, brown the flour a little, taking great care not to scorch it. Cream the butter, and add the sugar, in which the spices have been mixed; then the beaten yolks of eggs; then the whites beaten to a stiff froth, and the flour. Dissolve the soda in a very little warm water, and add. Now stir in the fruit. Have either one large, round pan, or two smaller ones. Put at least three thicknesses of buttered letter-paper on the sides and bottom; turn in the mixture, and bake for three hours in a moderate oven. Cover with thick paper if there is the least danger of scorching. This will keep, if well frosted, for two years. DOVER CAKE. One pound of flour; one pound of sugar; half a pound of butter; one teacup of milk; six eggs; one teaspoonful of baking powder; one grated nutmeg. Cream the butter; add first sugar, then beaten yolks of eggs and milk, then whites of eggs beaten to a stiff froth, and last the flour. Bake forty-five minutes in a large dripping-pan, sifting fine sugar over the top, and cut in small squares; or it may be baked in one round loaf, and frosted on the bottom, or in small tins. Half a pound of citron cut fine is often added. WHITE OR SILVER CAKE. Half a cup of butter; a heaping cupful of powdered sugar; two cups of flour, with a teaspoonful of baking powder sifted in; half a cup of milk; whites of six eggs; one teaspoonful of almond extract. Cream the butter, and add the flour, beating till it is a smooth paste. Beat the whites to a stiff froth, and add the sugar and essence. Now mix both quickly, and bake in a sheet about an inch and a half thick. About half an hour will be needed. Frost while hot, with one white of egg, beaten ten minutes with a small cup of sifted powdered sugar, and juice of half a lemon. This frosting hardens very quickly. Before it is quite hard, divide it into oblong or square pieces, scoring at intervals with the back of a large knife. The milk can be omitted if a richer cake is wanted. It may also be baked in jelly-cake tins; one small cocoanut grated, and mixed with one cup of sugar, and spread between, and the whole frosted. Or beat the white of an egg with one cup of sugar, and the juice of one large or two small oranges, and spread between. Either form is delicious. GOLD CAKE. One cup of sugar; half a cup of butter; two cups of flour; yolks of six eggs; grated rind and juice of a lemon or orange; half a teaspoonful of soda, mixed with the flour, and sifted twice. Cream the butter; add the sugar, then the beaten yolks and the flour, beating hard for several minutes. Last, add the lemon or orange juice, and bake like silver cake; frosting, if liked. If frosting is made for either or both cakes, the extra yolks may be used in making this one, eight being still nicer than six. BREAD CAKE. Two cups or a pint-bowlful of raised dough ready for baking; one cup of butter; two cups of sugar; one teaspoonful of ground cinnamon, or half a nutmeg grated; three eggs; one teaspoonful of soda in quarter of a cup of warm water, and half a cup of flour. Cream the butter, and add the sugar. Then put in the bread dough, and work together till well mixed. The hand is best for this, though it can be done with a wooden spoon. Add the eggs, then the flour, and last the soda. Let it stand in a warm place for one hour, and bake in a moderate oven forty-five minutes, testing with a broom-straw. A pound of stoned and chopped raisins is a nice addition. Omitting them, and adding flour enough to roll out, makes an excellent raised doughnut or bun. Let it rise two hours; then cut in shapes, and fry in boiling lard. Or, for buns, bake in a quick oven, and, a minute before taking out, brush the top with a spoonful of sugar and milk mixed together. PLAIN BUNS. One pint-bowlful of dough; one cup of sugar; butter the size of an egg; one teaspoonful of cinnamon. Boll the dough thin. Spread the butter upon it. Mix sugar and cinnamon together, and sprinkle on it. Now turn over the edges of the dough carefully to keep the sugar in, and press and work gently for a few minutes, that it may not break through. Knead till thoroughly mixed. Roll out; cut like biscuit, and let them rise an hour, baking in a quick oven. The same rule can be used for raised doughnuts. DOUGHNUTS. First put on the lard, and let it be heating gradually. To test it when hot, drop in a bit of bread; if it browns as you count twenty, it is right. Never let it boil furiously, or scorch. This is the rule for all frying, whether fritters, croquettes, or cakes. One quart of flour into which has been sifted a teaspoonful of salt, and one of soda if sour milk is used, or two of baking powder if sweet milk. If cream can be had, use part cream, allowing one large cup of milk, or cream and milk. One heaping cup of fine brown sugar; one teaspoonful of ground cinnamon, and half a one of mace or nutmeg; use one spoonful of butter, if you have no cream, stirring it into the sugar. Add two or three beaten eggs; mixing all as in general directions for cake. They can be made without eggs. Roll out; cut in shapes, and fry brown, taking them out with a fork into a sieve set over a pan that all fat may drain off. Cut thin, and baked brown in a quick oven, these make a good plain cooky. GINGER SNAPS. One cup of butter and lard or dripping mixed, or dripping alone can be used; one cup of molasses; one cup of brown sugar; two teaspoonfuls of ginger, and one each of clove, allspice, and mace; one teaspoonful of salt, and one of soda dissolved in half a cup of hot water; one egg. Stir together the shortening, sugar, molasses, and spice. Add the soda, and then sifted flour enough to make a dough,--about three pints. Turn on to the board, and knead well. Take about quarter of it, and roll out thin as a knife-blade. Bake in a quick oven. They will bake in five minutes, and will keep for months. By using only four cups of flour, this can be baked in a loaf as spiced gingerbread; or it can be rolled half an inch thick, and baked as a cooky. In this, as in all cakes, experience will teach you many variations. PLAIN GINGERBREAD. Two cups of molasses; one of sour milk; half a cup of lard or drippings; four cups of flour; two teaspoonfuls of ginger, and one of cinnamon; half a teaspoonful of salt; one egg, and a teaspoonful of soda. Mix molasses and shortening; add the spice and egg, then the milk, and last the flour, with soda sifted in it. Bake at once in a sheet about an inch thick for half an hour. Try with a broom-straw. Good hot for lunch with chocolate. A plain cooky is made by adding flour enough to roll out. The egg may be omitted. JUMBLES. The richest jumbles are made from either the rule for Pound or Dover Cake, with flour enough added to roll out. The Cup-Cake rule makes good but plainer ones. Make rings, either by cutting in long strips and joining the ends, or by using a large and small cutter. Sift sugar over the top, and bake a delicate brown. By adding a large spoonful of yellow ginger, any of these rules become hard sugar-gingerbread, and all will keep for a long time. DROP CAKES. Any of the rules last mentioned become drop cakes by buttering muffin-tins or tin sheets, and dropping a teaspoonful of these mixtures into them. If on sheets, let them be two inches apart. Sift sugar over the top, and bake in a quick oven. They are done as soon as brown. CREAM CAKES. One pint of boiling water in a saucepan. Melt in it a piece of butter the size of an egg. Add half a teaspoonful of salt. While still boiling, stir in one large cup of flour, and cook for three minutes. Take from the fire; cool ten minutes; then break in, one by one, six eggs, and beat till smooth. Have muffin-pans buttered, or large baking-sheets. Drop a spoonful of the mixture on them, allowing room to spread, and bake half an hour in a quick oven. Cool on a sieve, and, when cool, fill with a cream made as below. FILLING FOR CREAM CAKES. One pint of milk, one cup of sugar, two eggs, half a cup of flour, and a piece of butter the size of a walnut. Mix the sugar and flour, add the beaten eggs, and beat all till smooth. Stir into the boiling milk with a teaspoonful of salt, and boil for fifteen minutes. When cold, add a teaspoonful of vanilla or lemon. Make a slit in each cake, and fill with the cream. Corn-starch may be used instead of flour. This makes a very nice filling for plain cup cake baked on jelly-cake tins. MERINGUES, OR KISSES. Whites of three eggs beaten to a stiff froth; quarter of a pound of sifted powdered sugar; a few drops of vanilla. Add the sugar to the whites. Have ready a hard-wood board which fits the oven. Wet the top well with boiling water, and cover it with sheets of letter-paper. Drop the meringue mixture on this in large spoonfuls, and set in a _very slow_ oven. The secret of a good meringue is to _dry_, not bake; and they should be in the oven at least half an hour. Take them out when dry. Slip a thin, sharp knife under each one, and put two together; or scoop out the soft part very carefully, and fill with a little jelly or with whipped cream. PASTRY AND PIES. In the first place, don't make either, except very semi-occasionally. Pastry, even when good, is so indigestible that children should never have it, and their elders but seldom. A nice short-cake made as on p. 209, and filled with stewed fruit, or with fresh berries mashed and sweetened, is quite as agreeable to eat, and far more wholesome. But, as people _will_ both make and eat pie-crust, the best rules known are given. Butter, being more wholesome than lard, should always be used if it can be afforded. A mixture of lard and butter is next best. Clarified dripping makes a good crust for meat pies, and cream can also be used. For dumplings nothing can be better than a light biscuit-crust, made as on p. 208. It is also good for meat pies. PLAIN PIE-CRUST. One quart of flour; one even teacup of lard, and one of butter; one teacup of ice-water or very cold water; and a teaspooonful of salt. Rub the lard and salt into the flour till it is dry and crumbly. Add the ice-water, and work to a smooth dough. Wash the butter, and have it cold and firm as possible. Divide it in three parts. Roll out the paste, and dot it all over with bits from one part of the butter. Sprinkle with flour, and roll up. Roll out, and repeat till the butter is gone. If the crust can now stand on the ice for half an hour, it will be nicer and more flaky. This amount will make three good-sized pies. Enough for the bottom crusts can be taken off after one rolling in of butter, thus making the top crust richer. Lard alone will make a tender, but not a flaky, paste. PUFF PASTE. One pound of flour; three-quarters of a pound of butter; one teacupful of ice-water; one teaspoonful of salt, and one of sugar; yolk of one egg. Wash the butter; divide into three parts, reserving a bit the size of an egg; and put it on the ice for an hour. Rub the bit of butter, the salt, and sugar, into the flour, and stir in the ice-water and egg beaten together. Make into a dough, and knead on the molding-board till glossy and firm: at least ten minutes will be required. Roll out into a sheet ten or twelve inches square. Cut a cake of the ice-cold butter in thin slices, or flatten it very thin with the rolling-pin. Lay it on the paste, sprinkle with flour, and fold over the edges. Press it in somewhat with the rolling-pin, and roll out again. Always roll _from_ you. Do this again and again till the butter is all used, rolling up the paste after the last cake is in, and then putting it on the ice for an hour or more. Have filling all ready, and let the paste be as nearly ice-cold as possible when it goes into the oven. There are much more elaborate rules; but this insures handsome paste. Make a plainer one for the bottom crusts. Cover puff paste with a damp cloth, and it may be kept on the ice a day or two before baking. PATTIES FROM PUFF PASTE. Roll the paste about a third of an inch thick, and cut out with a round or oval cutter about two inches in diameter. Take a cutter half an inch smaller, and press it into the piece already cut out, so as to sink half-way through the crust: this to mark out the top piece. Lay on tins, and bake to a delicate brown. They should treble in thickness by rising, and require from twenty minutes to half an hour to bake. When done, the marked-out top can easily be removed. Take out the soft inside, and fill with sweetmeats for dessert, or with minced chicken or oysters prepared as on p. 140. GRANDMOTHER'S APPLE PIE. Line a deep pie-plate with plain paste. Pare sour apples,--greenings are best; quarter, and cut in thin slices. Allow one cup of sugar, and quarter of a grated nutmeg mixed with it. Fill the pie-plate heaping full of the sliced apple, sprinkling the sugar between the layers. It will require not less than six good-sized apples. Wet the edges of the pie with cold water; lay on the cover, and press down securely, that no juice may escape. Bake three-quarters of an hour, or a little less if the apples are very tender. No pie in which the apples are stewed beforehand can compare with this in flavor. If they are used, stew till tender, and strain. Sweeten and flavor to taste. Fill the pies, and bake half an hour. DRIED-APPLE PIES. Wash one pint of dried apples, and put in a porcelain kettle with two quarts of warm water. Let them stand all night. In the morning put on the fire, and stew slowly for an hour. Then add one pint of sugar, a teaspoonful of dried lemon or orange rind, or half a fresh lemon sliced, and half a teaspoonful of cinnamon. Stew half an hour longer, and then use for filling the pies. The apple can be strained if preferred, and a teaspoonful of butter added. This quantity will make two pies. Dried peaches are treated in the same way. LEMON PIES. Three lemons, juice of all and the grated rind of two; two cups of sugar; three cups of boiling water; three tablespoonfuls of corn-starch dissolved in a little cold water; three eggs; a piece of butter the size of an egg. Pour the boiling water on the dissolved corn-starch, and boil for five minutes. Add the sugar and butter, the yolks of the eggs beaten to a froth, and last the lemon juice and rind. Line the plates with crust, putting a narrow rim of it around each one. Pour in the filling, and bake half an hour. Beat the whites to a stiff froth; add half a teacup of powdered sugar and ten drops of lemon extract, and, when the pie is baked, spread this on. The heat will cook it sufficiently, but it can be browned a moment in the oven. If to be kept a day, do not make the frosting till just before using. The whites will keep in a cold place. Orange pie can be made in the same way. SWEET-POTATO PIE OR PUDDING. One pound of hot, boiled sweet potato rubbed through a sieve; one cup of butter; one heaping cup of sugar; half a grated nutmeg; one glass of brandy; a pinch of salt; six eggs. Add the sugar, spice, and butter to the hot potato. Beat whites and yolks separately, and add, and last the brandy. Line deep plates with nice paste, making a rim of puff paste. Fill with the mixture, and bake till the crust is done,--about half an hour. Wickedly rich, but very delicious. Irish potatoes can be treated in the same way, and are more delicate. SQUASH OR PUMPKIN PIE. Prepare and steam as in directions on p. 194. Strain through a sieve. To a quart of the strained squash add one quart of new milk, with a spoonful or two of cream if possible; one heaping cup of sugar into which has been stirred a teaspoonful of salt, a heaping one of ginger, and half a one of cinnamon. Mix this with the squash, and add from two to four well-beaten eggs. Bake in deep plates lined with plain pie-crust. They are done when a knife-blade on being run into the middle comes out clean. About forty minutes will be enough. For pumpkin pie half a cup of molasses may be added, and the eggs can be omitted, substituting half a cup of flour mixed with the sugar and spice before stirring in. A teaspoonful of butter can also be added. CHERRY AND BERRY PIES. Have a very deep plate, and either no under crust save a rim, or a very thin one. Allow a cup of sugar to a quart of fruit, but no spices. Stone cherries. Prick the upper crust half a dozen times with a fork to let out the steam. For rhubarb or pie-plant pies, peel the stalks; cut them in little bits, and fill the pie. Bake with an upper crust. CUSTARD PIE. Line and rim deep plates with pastry, a thin custard pie being very poor. Beat together a teacupful of sugar, four eggs, and a pinch of salt, and mix slowly with one quart of milk. Fill the plate up to the pastry rim _after it is in the oven_, and bake till the custard is firm, trying, as for squash pies, with a knife-blade. MINCE-MEAT FOR PIES. Two pounds of cold roast or boiled beef, or a small beef-tongue, boiled the day beforehand, cooled and chopped; one pound of beef-suet, freed from all strings, and chopped fine as powder; two pounds of raisins stoned and chopped; one pound of currants washed and dried; six pounds of chopped apples; half a pound of citron cut in slips; two pounds of brown sugar; one pint of molasses; one quart of boiled cider; one pint of wine or brandy, or a pint of any nice sirup from sweet pickles may be substituted; two heaping tablespoonfuls of salt; one teaspoonful of pepper; three tablespoonfuls of ground cinnamon; two of allspice; one of clove; one of mace; three grated nutmegs; grated rind and juice of three lemons; a cupful of chopped, candied orange or lemon peel. Mix spices and salt with sugar, and stir into the meat and suet. Add the apples, and then the cider and other wetting, stirring very thoroughly. Lastly, mix in the fruit. Fill and bake as in apple pies. This mince-meat will keep two months easily. If it ferments at all, put over the fire in a porcelain-lined kettle, and boil half an hour. Taste, and judge for yourselves whether more or less spice is needed. Butter can be used instead of suet, and proportions varied to taste. RAMMEKINS, OR CHEESE STRAWS. One pound of puff paste; one cup of good grated cheese. Roll the paste half an inch thick; sprinkle on half the cheese; press in lightly with the rolling-pin; roll up, and roll out again, using the other half of the cheese. Fold, and roll about a third of an inch thick. Cut in long, narrow strips, four or five inches long and half an inch wide, and bake in a quick oven to a delicate brown. Excellent with chocolate at lunch, or for dessert with fruit. * * * * * PUDDINGS BOILED AND BAKED. For boiled puddings a regular pudding-boiler holding from three pints to two quarts is best, a tin pail with a very tight-fitting cover answering instead, though not as good. For large dumplings a thick pudding-cloth--the best being of Canton flannel, used with the nap-side out--should be dipped in hot water, and wrung out, dredged evenly and thickly with flour, and laid over a large bowl. From half to three-quarters of a yard square is a good size. In filling this, pile the fruit or berries on the rolled-out crust which has been laid in the middle of the cloth, and gather the edges of the paste evenly over it. Then gather the cloth up, leaving room for the dumpling to swell, and tying very tightly. In turning out, lift to a dish; press all the water from the ends of the cloth; untie and turn away from the pudding, and lay a hot dish upon it, turning over the pudding into it, and serving at once, as it darkens or falls by standing. In using a boiler, butter well, and fill only two-thirds full that the mixture may have room to swell. Set it in boiling water, and see that it is kept at the same height, about an inch from the top. Cover the outer kettle that the steam may be kept in. Small dumplings, with a single apple or peach in each, can be cooked in a steamer. Puddings are not only much more wholesome, but less expensive than pies. APPLE DUMPLING. Make a crust, as for biscuit, or a potato-crust as follows: Three large potatoes, boiled and mashed while hot. Add to them two cups of sifted flour and one teaspoonful of salt, and mix thoroughly. Now chop or cut into it one small cup of butter, and mix into a paste with about a teacupful of cold water. Dredge the board thick with flour, and roll out,--thick in the middle, and thin at the edges. Fill, as directed, with apples pared and quartered, eight or ten good-sized ones being enough for this amount of crust. Boil for three hours. Turn out as directed, and eat with butter and sirup or with a made sauce. Peaches pared and halved, or canned ones drained from the sirup, can be used. In this case, prepare the sirup for sauce, as on p. 172. Blueberries are excellent in the same way. ENGLISH PLUM PUDDING, OR CHRISTMAS PUDDING. One pound of raisins stoned and cut in two; one pound of currants washed and dried; one pound of beef-suet chopped very fine; one pound of bread-crumbs; one pound of flour; half a pound of brown sugar; eight eggs; one pint of sweet milk; one teaspoonful of salt; a tablespoonful of cinnamon; two grated nutmegs; a glass each of wine and brandy. Prepare the fruit, and dredge thickly with flour. Soak the bread in the milk; beat the eggs, and add. Stir in the rest of the flour, the suet, and last the fruit. Boil six hours either in a cloth or large mold. Half the amounts given makes a good-sized pudding; but, as it will keep three months, it might be boiled in two molds. Serve with a rich sauce. ANY-DAY PLUM PUDDING. One cup of sweet milk; one cup of molasses; one cup each of raisins and currants; one cup of suet chopped fine, or, instead, a small cup of butter; one teaspoonful of salt, and one of soda, sifted with three cups of flour; one teaspoonful each of cinnamon and allspice. Mix milk, molasses, suet, and spice; add flour, and then the fruit. Put in a buttered mold, and boil three hours. Eat with hard or liquid sauce. A cupful each of prunes and dates or figs can be substituted for the fruit, and is very nice; and the same amount of dried apple, measured after soaking and chopping, is also good. Or the fruit can be omitted altogether, in which case it becomes "Troy Pudding." BATTER PUDDING, BOILED OR BAKED. Two cups of flour in which is sifted a heaping teaspoonful of baking powder, two cups of sweet milk, four eggs, one teaspoonful of salt. Stir the flour gradually into the milk, and beat hard for five minutes. Beat yolks and whites separately, and then add to batter. Have the pudding-boiler buttered. Pour in the batter, and boil steadily for two hours. It may also be baked an hour in a buttered pudding-dish. Serve at once, when done, with a liquid sauce. SUNDERLAND PUDDINGS. Are merely puffs or pop-overs eaten with sauce. See p. 209. BREAD PUDDING. One cup of dried and rolled bread-crumbs, or one pint of fresh ones; one quart of milk; two eggs; one cup of sugar; half a teaspoonful of cinnamon; a little grated nutmeg; a saltspoonful of salt. Soak the crumbs in the milk for an hour or two; mix the spice and salt with the sugar, and beat the eggs with it, stirring them slowly into the milk. Butter a pudding-dish; pour in the mixture; and bake half an hour, or till done. Try with a knife-blade, as in general directions. The whites may be kept out for a meringue, allowing half a teacup of powdered sugar to them. By using fresh bread-crumbs and four eggs, this becomes what is known as "Queen of Puddings." As soon as done, spread the top with half a cup of any acid jelly, and cover with the whites which have been beaten stiff, with a teacupful of sugar. Brown slightly in the oven. Half a pound of raisins may be added. BREAD-AND-BUTTER PUDDING. Fill a pudding-dish two-thirds full with very thin slices of bread and butter. A cupful of currants or dried cherries may be sprinkled between the slices. Make a custard of two eggs beaten with a cup of sugar; add a quart of milk, and pour over the bread. Cover with a plate, and set on the back of the stove an hour; then bake from half to three-quarters of an hour. Serve very hot, as it falls when cool. BREAD-AND-APPLE PUDDING. Butter a deep pudding-dish, and put first a layer of crumbs, then one of any good acid apple, sliced rather thin, and so on till the dish is nearly full. Six or eight apples and a quart of fresh crumbs will fill a two-quart dish. Dissolve a cup of sugar and one teaspoonful of cinnamon in one pint of boiling water, and pour into the dish. Let the pudding stand half an hour to swell; then bake till brown,--about three-quarters of an hour,--and eat with liquid sauce. It can be made with slices of bread and butter, instead of crumbs. BIRD'S-NEST PUDDING. Wash one teacupful of tapioca, and put it in one quart of cold water to soak for several hours. Pare and core as many good apples as will fit in a two-quart buttered pudding-dish. When the tapioca is softened, add a cupful of sugar, a pinch of salt, and half a teaspoonful of cinnamon, and pour over the apples. Bake an hour, and eat with or without sauce. TAPIOCA PUDDING. One quart of milk; one teacupful of tapioca; three eggs; a cup of sugar; a teaspoonful of salt; a tablespoonful of butter; a teaspoonful of lemon extract. Wash the tapioca, and soak in the milk for two hours, setting it on the back of the stove to swell. Beat eggs and sugar together, reserving whites for a meringue if liked; melt the butter, and add, and stir into the milk. Bake half an hour. Sago pudding is made in the same way. TAPIOCA CREAM. One teacupful of tapioca washed and soaked over-night in one pint of warm water. Next morning add a quart of milk and a teaspoonful of salt, and boil in a milk-boiler for two hours. Just before taking it from the fire, add a tablespoonful of butter, a teaspoonful of vanilla, and three eggs beaten with a cup of sugar. The whites may be made in a meringue. Pour into a glass dish which has had warm water standing in it, to prevent cracking, and eat cold. Rice or sago cream is made in the same way. PLAIN RICE PUDDING. One cup of rice; three pints of milk; one heaping cup of sugar; one teaspoonful of salt. Wash the rice well. Butter a two-quart pudding-dish, and stir rice, sugar, and salt together. Pour on the milk. Grate nutmeg over it, and bake for three hours. Very good. MINUTE PUDDING. One quart of milk; one pint of flour; two eggs; one teaspoonful of salt. Boil the milk in a double boiler. Beat the eggs, and add the flour slowly, with enough of the milk to make it smooth. Stir into the boiling milk, and cook it half an hour. Eat with liquid sauce or sirup. It is often made without eggs. CORN-STARCH PUDDING. One quart of milk; four tablespoonfuls of corn-starch; one cup of sugar; three eggs; a teaspoonful each of salt and vanilla. Boil the milk; dissolve the corn-starch in a little cold milk, and add. Cook five minutes, and add the eggs and flavoring beaten with the sugar. Turn into a buttered dish, and bake fifteen minutes, covering then with a meringue made of the whites, or cool in molds, in this case using only the whites of the eggs. The yolks can be made in a custard to pour around them. A cup of grated cocoanut can be added, or two teaspoonfuls of chocolate stirred smooth in a little boiling water. GELATINE PUDDING. Four eggs; one pint of milk; one cup of sugar; a saltspoonful of salt; a teaspoonful of lemon or vanilla; a third of a box of gelatine. Soak the gelatine a few minutes in a little cold water, and then dissolve it in three-quarters of a cup of boiling water. Have ready a custard made from the milk and yolks of the eggs. Beat the yolks and sugar together, and stir into the boiling milk. When cold, add the gelatine water and the whites of the eggs beaten very stiff. Pour into molds. It is both pretty and good. CABINET PUDDING. One quart of milk; half a package of gelatine; a teaspoonful each of salt and vanilla; a cup of sugar. Boil the milk; soak the gelatine fifteen minutes in a little cold water; dissolve in the boiling milk, and add the sugar and salt. Now butter a Charlotte-Russe mold thickly. Cut slips of citron into leaves or pretty shapes, and stick on the mold. Fill it lightly with any light cake, either plain or rich. Strain on the gelatine and milk, and set in a cold place. Turn out before serving. Delicate crackers may be used instead of cake. CORN-MEAL OR INDIAN PUDDING. One quart of milk; one cup of sifted corn meal; one cup of molasses (not "sirup"); one teaspoonful of salt. Stir meal, salt, and molasses together. Boil the milk, and add slowly. Butter a pudding-dish, and pour in the mixture; adding, after it is set in the oven, one cup of cold milk poured over the top. Bake three hours in a moderate oven. * * * * * CUSTARDS, CREAMS, JELLIES, ETC. BAKED CUSTARD. One quart of milk; four eggs; one teacup of sugar; half a teaspoonful of salt; nutmeg. Boil the milk. Beat the eggs very light, and add the sugar and salt. Pour on the milk very slowly, stirring constantly. Bake in a pudding-dish or in cups. If in cups, set them in a baking-pan, and half fill it with boiling water. Grate nutmeg over each. The secret of a good custard is in slow baking and the most careful watching. Test often with a knife-blade, and do not bake an instant after the blade comes out smooth and clean. To be eaten cold. Six eggs are generally used; but four are plenty. BOILED CUSTARD. One quart of milk; three or four eggs; one cup of sugar; one teaspoonful of vanilla; half a teaspoonful of salt; one teaspoonful of corn-starch. Boil the milk. Dissolve the corn-starch in a little cold water, and boil in the milk five minutes. It prevents the custard from curdling, which otherwise it is very apt to do. Beat the eggs and sugar well together, stir into the milk, and add the salt and flavoring. Take at once from the fire, and, when cool, pour either into a large glass dish, covering with a meringue of the whites, or into small glasses with a little jelly or jam at the bottom of each. Or the whites can be used in making an apple-float, as below, and the yolks for the custard. For _Cocoanut Custard_ add a cup of grated cocoanut; for _Chocolate_, two tablespoonfuls of grated chocolate dissolved in half a cup of boiling water. TIPSY PUDDING. Make a boiled custard as directed. Half fill a deep dish with any light, stale cake. Add to a teacup of wine a teacup of boiling water, and pour over it. Add the custard just before serving. APPLE FLOAT. Six good, acid apples stewed and strained. When cold, add a teacupful of sugar, half a teaspoonful of vanilla, and the beaten whites of three or four eggs. Serve at once. BLANCMANGE. One quart of milk; one cup of sugar; half a package of gelatine; half a teaspoonful of salt; a teaspoonful of any essence liked. Soak the gelatine ten minutes in half a cup of cold water. Boil the milk, and add gelatine and the other ingredients. Strain into molds, and let it stand in a cold place all night to harden. For chocolate blancmange add two tablespoonfuls of scraped chocolate dissolved in a little boiling water. SPANISH CREAM. Make a blancmange as on p. 238; but, just before taking from the fire, add the yolks of four eggs, and then strain. The whites can be used for meringues. WHIPPED CREAM. One pint of rich cream; one cup of sugar; one glass of sherry or Madeira. Mix all, and put on the ice an hour, as cream whips much better when chilled. Using a whip-churn enables it to be done in a few minutes; but a fork or egg-beater will answer. Skim off all the froth as it rises, and lay on a sieve to drain, returning the cream which drips away to be whipped over again. Set on the ice a short time before serving. CHARLOTTE RUSSE. Make a sponge cake as on p. 216, and line a Charlotte mold with it, cutting a piece the size of the bottom, and fitting the rest around the sides. Fill with cream whipped as above, and let it stand on the ice to set a little. This is the easiest form of Charlotte. It is improved by the beaten whites of three eggs stirred into the cream. Flavor with half a teaspoonful of vanilla if liked. BAVARIAN CREAM. Whip a pint of cream to a stiff froth. Boil a pint of rich milk with a teacupful of sugar, and add a teaspoonful of vanilla. Soak half a box of gelatine for an hour in half a cup of warm water, and add to the milk. Add the yolks of four eggs beaten smooth, and take from the fire instantly. When cold and just beginning to thicken, stir in the whipped cream. Put in molds, and set in a cold place. This can be used also for filling Charlotte Russe. For chocolate add chocolate as directed in rule for boiled custard; for coffee, one teacup of clear, strong coffee. STRAWBERRY CREAM. Three pints of strawberries mashed fine. Strain the juice, and add a heaping cup of sugar, and then gelatine soaked as above, and dissolved in a teacup of boiling water. Add the pint of whipped cream, and pour into molds. FRUIT CREAMS. Half a pint of peach or pine-apple marmalade stirred smooth with a teacupful of sweet cream. Add gelatine dissolved as in rule for strawberry cream, and, when cold, the pint of whipped cream. These creams are very delicious, and not as expensive as rich pastry. OMELETTE SOUFFL�E. Six whites and three yolks of eggs; three tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar sifted; a few drops of lemon or vanilla. Beat the yolks, flavoring, and sugar to a light cream; beat the whites to the stiffest froth. Have the yolks in a deep bowl. Turn the whites on to them, and do not stir, but mix, by cutting down through the middle, and gradually mixing white and yellow. Turn on to a tin or earthen baking-dish with high sides, and bake in a moderate oven from ten to fifteen minutes. It will rise very high, and must be served the instant it is done, to avoid its falling. FRIED CREAM. One pint of milk; half a cup of sugar; yolks of three eggs; two tablespoonfuls of corn-starch and one of flour mixed; half a teaspoonful of vanilla, and two inches of stick-cinnamon; a teaspoonful of butter. Boil the cinnamon in the milk. Stir the corn-starch and flour smooth in a little cold milk or water, and add to the milk. Beat the yolks light with the sugar, and add. Take from the fire; take out the cinnamon, and stir in the butter and vanilla, and pour out on a buttered tin or dish, letting it be about half an inch thick. When cold and stiff, cut into pieces about three inches long and two wide. Dip carefully in sifted cracker-crumbs; then in a beaten egg, and in crumbs again, and fry like croquettes. Dry in the oven four or five minutes, and serve at once. Very delicious. PEACH FRITTERS. Make a batter as on p. 208. Take the fruit from a small can of peaches, lay it on a plate, and sprinkle with a spoonful of sugar and a glass of wine. Let it lie an hour, turning it once. Dip each piece in batter, and drop in boiling lard, or chop and mix with batter. Prepare the juice for a sauce as on p. 172. Fresh peaches or slices of tender apple can be used in the same way. Drain on brown paper, and sift sugar over them, before they go to table. FREEZING OF ICE CREAM AND ICES. With a patent freezer ice cream and ices can be prepared with less trouble than puff paste. The essential points are the use of rock-salt, and pounding the ice into small bits. Set the freezer in the centre of the tub. Put a layer of ice three inches deep, then of salt, and so on till the tub is full, ending with ice. Put in the cream, and turn for ten minutes, or till you can not turn the beater. Then take off the cover, scrape down the sides, and beat like cake for at least five minutes. Pack the tub again, having let off all water; cover with a piece of old carpet. If molds are used, fill as soon as the cream is frozen; pack them full of it, and lay in ice and salt. When ready to turn out, dip in warm water a moment. Handle gently, and serve at once. ICE CREAM OF CREAM. To a gallon of sweet cream add two and a quarter pounds of sugar, and four tablespoonfuls of vanilla or other extract, as freezing destroys flavors. Freeze as directed. ICE CREAM WITH EGGS. Boil two quarts of rich milk, and add to it, when boiling, four tablespoonfuls of corn-starch wet with a cup of cold milk. Boil for ten minutes, stirring often. Beat twelve eggs to a creamy froth with a heaping quart of sugar, and stir in, taking from the fire as soon as it boils. When cold, add three tablespoonfuls of vanilla or lemon, and two quarts either of cream or very rich milk, and freeze. For strawberry or raspberry cream allow the juice of one quart of berries to a gallon of cream. For chocolate cream grate half a pound of chocolate; melt it with one pint of sugar and a little water, and add to above rule. WATER ICES. Are simply fruit juices and water made very sweet, with a few whites of eggs whipped stiff, and added. For lemon ice take two quarts of water, one quart of sugar, and the juice of seven lemons. Mix and add, after it has begun to freeze, the stiffly-beaten whites of four eggs. Orange ice is made in the same way. WINE JELLY. One box of gelatine; one cup of wine; three lemons, juice and rind; a small stick of cinnamon; one quart of boiling water; one pint of white sugar. Soak the gelatine in one cup of cold water half an hour. Boil the cinnamon in the quart of water for five minutes, and then add the yellow rind of the lemons cut very thin, and boil a minute. Take out cinnamon and rinds, and add sugar, wine, and gelatine. Strain at once through a fine strainer into molds, and, when cold, set on the ice to harden. To turn out, dip for a moment in hot water. A pint of wine is used, if liked very strong. LEMON JELLY. Omit the wine, but make as above in other respects, using five lemons. Oranges are nice also. The juice may be used as in lemon jelly, or the little sections may be peeled as carefully as possible of all the white skin. Pour a little lemon jelly in a mold, and let it harden. Then fill with four oranges prepared in this way, and pour in liquid jelly to cover them. Candied fruit may be used instead. The jelly reserved to add to the mold can be kept in a warm place till the other has hardened. Fresh strawberries or raspberries, or cut-up peaches, can be used instead of oranges. CANNING AND PRESERVING. Canning is so simple an operation that it is unfortunate that most people consider it difficult. The directions generally given are so troublesome that one can not wonder it is not attempted oftener; but it need be hardly more care than the making of apple sauce, which, by the way, can always be made while apples are plenty, and canned for spring use. In an experience of years, not more than one can in a hundred has ever been lost, and fruit put up at home is far nicer than any from factories. In canning, see first that the jars are clean, the rubbers whole and in perfect order, and the tops clean and ready to screw on. Fill the jars with hot (not boiling) water half an hour before using, and have them ready on a table sufficiently large to hold the preserving-kettle, a dish-pan quarter full of hot water, and the cans. Have ready, also, a deep plate, large enough to hold two cans; a silver spoon; an earthen cup with handle; and, if possible, a can-filler,--that is, a small tin in strainer-shape, but without the bottom, and fitting about the top. The utmost speed is needed in filling and screwing down tops, and for this reason every thing _must be_ ready beforehand. In filling the can let the fruit come to the top; then run the spoon-handle down on all sides to let out the air; pour in juice till it runs over freely, and screw the top down at once, using a towel to protect the hand. Set at once in a dish-pan of water, as this prevents the table being stained by juice, and also its hardening on the hot can. Proceed in this way till all are full; wipe them dry; and, when cold, give the tops an additional screw, as the glass contracts in cooling, and loosens them. Label them, and keep in a dark, cool closet. When the fruit is used, wash the jar, and dry carefully at the back of the stove. Wash the rubber also, and dry on a towel, putting it in the jar when dry, and screwing on the top. They are then ready for next year's use. Mason's cans are decidedly the best for general use. GENERAL RULES FOR CANNING. For all small fruits allow one-third of a pound of sugar to a pound of fruit. Make it into a sirup with a teacup of water to each pound, and skim carefully. Throw in the fruit, and boil ten minutes, canning as directed. Raspberries and blackberries are best; huckleberries are excellent for pies, and easily canned. Pie-plant can be stewed till tender. It requires half a pound of sugar to a pound of fruit. For peaches, gages, &c, allow the same amount of sugar as for raspberries. Pare peaches, and can whole or in halves as preferred. Prick plums and gages with a large darning-needle to prevent their bursting. In canning pears, pare and drop at once, into cold water, as this prevents their turning dark. Always use a porcelain-lined kettle, and stir either with a silver or a wooden spoon,--never an iron one. Currants are nice mixed with an equal weight of raspberries, and all fruit is more wholesome canned than in preserves. TO CAN TOMATOES. Unless very plenty, it is cheaper to buy these in the tins. Pour on boiling water to help in removing the skins; fill the preserving kettle, but add no water. Boil them five minutes, and then can. Do not season till ready to use them for the table. Okra and tomatoes may be scalded together in equal parts, and canned for soups. PRESERVES. Preserves are scarcely needed if canning is nicely done. They require much more trouble, and are too rich for ordinary use, a pound of sugar to one of fruit being required. If made at all, the fruit must be very fresh, and the sirup perfectly clear. For sirup allow one teacup of cold water to every pound of sugar, and, as it heats, add to every three or four pounds the white of an egg. Skim very carefully, boiling till no more rises, and it is ready for use. Peaches, pears, green gages, cherries, and crab-apples are all preserved alike. Peel, stone, and halve peaches, and boil only a few pieces at a time till clear. Peel, core, and halve pears. Prick plums and gages several times. Core crab-apples, and cut half the stem from cherries. Cook till tender. Put up _when cold_ in small jars, and paste paper over them. JAMS. Make sirup as directed above. Use raspberries, strawberries, or any small fruit, and boil for half an hour. Put up in small jars or tumblers; lay papers dipped in brandy on the fruit, and paste on covers, or use patent jelly-glasses. MARMALADE. Quinces make the best; but crab-apples or any sour apple are also good. Poor quinces, unfit for other use, can be washed and cut in small pieces, coring, but not paring them. Allow three-quarters of a pound of sugar and a teacupful of water to a pound of fruit, and boil slowly two hours, stirring and mashing it fine. Strain through a colander, and put up in glasses or bowls. Peach marmalade is made in the same way. CURRANT JELLY. The fruit must be picked when just ripened, as when too old it will not form jelly. Look over, and then put stems and all in a porcelain-lined kettle. Crush a little of the fruit to form juice, but add no water. As it heats, jam with a potato-masher; and when hot through, strain through a jelly-bag. Let all run off that will, before squeezing the bag. It will be a little clearer than the squeezed juice. To every pint of this juice add one pound of best white sugar, taking care that it has not a blue tinge. Jelly from bluish-white sugars does not harden well. Boil the juice twenty-five minutes; add the sugar, and boil for five more. Put up in glasses. ORANGE MARMALADE. This recipe, taken from the "New York Evening Post," has been thoroughly tested by the author, and found delicious. "A recipe for orange marmalade that I think will be entirely new to most housewives, and that I know is delicious, comes from an English housekeeper. It is a sweet that is choice and very healthful. If made now, when oranges and lemons are plentiful, it may be had at a cost of from five to six cents for a large glass. The recipe calls for one dozen oranges (sweet or part bitter), one half-dozen lemons, and ten pounds of granulated sugar. Wash the fruit in tepid water thoroughly, and scrub the skins with a soft brush to get rid of the possible microbes that it is said may lurk on the skins of fruit. Dry the fruit; take a very sharp knife, and on a hard-wood board slice it very thin. Throw away the thick pieces that come off from the ends. Save all the seeds, and put them in one bowl; the sliced fruit in another. Pour half a gallon of water over the contents of each bowl, and soak for thirty-six hours. Then put the fruit in your preserving-kettle, with the water that has been standing on it, and strain in (through a colander) the water put on the lemon-seeds. Cook gently two hours; then add the sugar, and cook another hour, or until the mixture jellies. Test by trying a little in a saucer. Put away in glasses or cans, as other jelly." FRUIT JELLIES. Crab-apple, quince, grapes, &c., are all made in the same way. Allow a teacup of water to a pound of fruit; boil till very tender; then strain through a cloth, and treat as currant jelly. Cherries will not jelly without gelatine, and grapes are sometimes troublesome. Where gelatine is needed, allow a package to two quarts of juice. CANDIED FRUITS. Make a sirup as for preserves, and boil any fruit, prepared as directed, until tender. Let them stand two days in the sirup. Take out; drain carefully; lay them on plates; sift sugar over them, and dry either in the sun or in a moderately warm oven. PICKLES AND CATCHUPS. Sour pickles are first prepared by soaking in a brine made of one pint of coarse salt to six quarts of water. Boil this, and pour it scalding hot over the pickle, cucumbers, green tomatoes, &c. Cucumbers may lie in this a week, or a month even, but must be soaked in cold water two days before using them. Other pickles lie only a month. Sweet pickles are made from any fruit used in preserving, allowing three, or sometimes four, pounds of sugar to a quart of best cider vinegar, and boiling both together. CUCUMBER PICKLES. Half a bushel of cucumbers, small, and as nearly as possible the same size. Make a brine as directed, and pour over them. Next morning prepare a pickle as follows: Two gallons of cider vinegar; one quart of brown sugar. Boil, and skim carefully, and add to it half a pint of white mustard seed; one ounce of stick-cinnamon broken fine; one ounce of alum; half an ounce each of whole cloves and black pepper-corns. Boil five minutes, and pour over the cucumbers. They can be used in a week. In a month scald the vinegar once more, and pour over them. TOMATO CHUTNEY. One peck of green tomatoes; six large green peppers; six onions; one cup of salt. Chop onions and peppers fine, slice the tomatoes about quarter of an inch thick, and sprinkle the salt over all. In the morning drain off all the salt and water, and put the tomatoes in a porcelain-lined kettle. Mix together thoroughly two pounds of brown sugar; quarter of a pound of mustard-seed; one ounce each of powdered cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and black pepper; half an ounce of allspice; quarter of an ounce each of cayenne pepper and ground mustard. Stir all into the tomatoes; cover with cider vinegar,--about two quarts,--and boil slowly for two hours. Very nice, but very hot. If wanted less so, omit the cayenne and ground mustard. RIPE CUCUMBER OR MELON-RIND PICKLES. Pare, seed, and cut lengthwise into four pieces, or in thick slices. Boil an ounce of alum in one gallon of water, and pour over them, letting them stand at least half a day on the back of the stove. Take them out, and let them lie in cold water until cold. Have ready a quart of vinegar, three pounds of brown sugar, and an ounce of stick-cinnamon and half an ounce cloves. Boil the vinegar and sugar, and skim; add the spices and the melon rind or cucumber, and boil for half an hour. SWEET-PICKLED PEACHES, PEARS, OR PLUMS. Seven pounds of fruit; four pounds of brown sugar; one quart of vinegar; one ounce of cloves; two ounces of stick-cinnamon. Pare the peaches or not, as liked. If unpared, wash and wipe each one to rub off the wool. Boil vinegar and sugar, and skim well; add spices, sticking one or two cloves in each peach. Boil ten minutes, and take out into jars. Boil the sirup until reduced one-half, and pour over them. Pears are peeled and cored; apples peeled, cored, and quartered. They can all be put in stone jars; but Mason's cans are better. TOMATO CATCHUP. Boil one bushel of ripe tomatoes, skins and all, and, when soft, strain through a colander. Be sure that it is a colander, and _not_ a sieve, for reasons to be given. Add to this pulp two quarts of best vinegar; one cup of salt; two pounds of brown sugar; half an ounce of cayenne pepper; three ounces each of powdered allspice and mace; two ounces of powdered cinnamon; three ounces of celery-seed. Mix spices and sugar well together, and stir into the tomato; add the vinegar, and stir thoroughly. Now strain the whole through a _sieve_. A good deal of rather thick pulp will not go through. Pour all that runs through into a large kettle, and let it boil slowly till reduced one-half. Put the thick pulp into a smaller kettle, and boil twenty minutes. Use as a pickle with cold meats or with boiled fish. A teacupful will flavor a soup. In the old family rule from which this is taken, a pint of brandy is added ten minutes before the catchup is done; but it is not necessary, though an improvement. Bottle, and keep in a cool, dark place. It keeps for years. * * * * * CANDIES. CREAM CANDY. One pound of granulated sugar; one teacupful of water; half a teacupful of vinegar. Boil--trying very often after the first ten minutes--till it will harden in cold water. Cool, and pull white. CHOCOLATE CARAMELS. One cup of sugar; one cup of milk; half a cup of molasses; two ounces of grated chocolate. Melt the chocolate in a very little water; add the sugar, milk, and molasses, and boil twenty minutes, or until very thick. Pour in buttered pans, and cut in small squares when cool. MOLASSES CANDY. Two cups of molasses, one of brown sugar, a teaspoonful of butter, and a tablespoonful of vinegar. Boil from twenty minutes to half an hour. Pour in a buttered dish, and pull when cool. NUT CANDY. Make molasses candy as above. Just before taking it from the fire, add a heaping pint of shelled peanuts or walnuts. Cut in strips before it is quite cold. COCOANUT DROPS. One cocoanut grated; half its weight in powdered sugar; whites of two eggs; one teaspoonful of corn-starch. Mix corn-starch and sugar; add cocoanut, and then whites of eggs beaten to a stiff froth. Make in little cones, and bake on buttered paper in a slow oven. CHOCOLATE CREAMS. One pound of granulated sugar; half a pound of chocolate; one teaspoonful of acetic acid; one tablespoonful of water; one teaspoonful of vanilla. Melt the sugar slowly, wetting a little with the water. Add the acid and vanilla, and boil till sugary, trying _very_ often by stirring a little in a saucer. When sugary, take from the fire, and stir until almost hard; then roll in little balls, and put on a buttered plate. Melt the chocolate in two tablespoonfuls of water with a cup of sugar, and boil five minutes. When just warm, dip in the little balls till well coated, and lay on plates to dry. Very nice. * * * * * SICK-ROOM COOKERY. GENERAL HINTS. As recovery from any illness depends in large part upon proper food, and as the appetite of the sick is always capricious and often requires tempting, the greatest pains should be taken in the preparation of their meals. If only dry toast and tea, let each be perfect, remembering instructions for making each, and serving on the freshest of napkins and in dainty china. A _tête-à-tête_ service is very nice for use in a sick-room; and in any case a very small teapot can be had, that the tea may always be made fresh. Prepare only a small amount of any thing, and never discuss it beforehand. A surprise will often rouse a flagging appetite. Be ready, too, to have your best attempts rejected. The article disliked one day may be just what is wanted the next. Never let food stand in a sick-room,--for it becomes hateful to a sensitive patient,--and have every thing as daintily clean as possible. Remember, too, that gelatine is not nourishing, and do not be satisfied to feed a patient on jellies. Bread from any brown flour will be more nourishing than wheat. Corn meal is especially valuable for thin, chilly invalids, as it contains so much heat. In severe sickness a glass tube is very useful for feeding gruels and drinks, and little white china boats with spouts are also good. A wooden tray with legs six or seven inches high, to stand on the bed, is very convenient for serving meals. Let ventilation, sunshine, and absolute cleanliness rule in the sick-room. Never raise a dust, but wipe the carpet with a damp cloth, and pick up bits as needed. Never let lamp or sun light shine directly in the eyes, and, when the patient shows desire to sleep, darken the room a little. Never whisper, nor wear rustling dresses, nor become irritated at exactions, but keep a cheerful countenance, which helps often far more than drugs. Experience must teach the rest. BEEF TEA, OR ESSENCE OF BEEF. Cut a pound of perfectly lean beef into small bits. Do not allow any particle of fat to remain. Put in a wide-mouthed bottle, cork tightly, and set in a kettle of cold water. Boil for three hours; pour off the juice, which is now completely extracted from the meat. There will be probably a small cupful. Season with a saltspoonful of salt. This is given in extreme sickness, feeding a teaspoonful at a time. BEEF TEA FOR CONVALESCENTS. One pound of lean beef prepared as above. Add a pint of cold water,--rain-water is best,--and soak for an hour. Cover closely, and boil for ten minutes; or put in the oven, and let it remain an hour. Pour off the juice, season with half a teaspoonful of salt, and use. A little celery salt makes a change. CHICKEN BROTH. The bones and a pound of meat from a chicken put in three pints of cold water. Skim thoroughly when it comes to a boil, add a teaspoonful of salt, and simmer for three hours. Strain and serve. A tablespoonful of soaked rice or tapioca may be added after the broth is strained. Return it in this case to the fire, and boil half an hour longer. CHICKEN JELLY. Boil chicken as for broth, but reduce the liquid to half a pint. Strain into a cup or little mold, and turn out when cold. CHICKEN PANADA. Take the breast of the chicken boiled as above; cut in bits, and pound smooth in a mortar. Take a teacupful of bread-crumbs; soak them soft in warm milk, or, if liked better, in a little broth. Mix them with the chicken; add a saltspoonful of salt, and, if allowed, a pinch of mace; and serve in a cup with a spoon. BEEF, TAPIOCA, AND EGG BROTH. One pound of lean beef, prepared as for beef tea, and soaked one hour in a quart of cold water. Boil slowly for two hours. Strain it. Add a half teaspoonful of salt, and half a cupful of tapioca which has been washed and soaked an hour in warm water. Boil slowly half an hour. Serve in a shallow bowl, in which a poached egg is put at the last, or stir a beaten egg into one cup of the boiling soup, and serve at once with wafers or crackers. MUTTON BROTH. Made as chicken broth. Any strong stock, from which the fat has been taken, answers for broths. OATMEAL GRUEL. Have ready, in a double boiler, one quart of boiling water with a teaspoonful of salt, and sprinkle in two tablespoonfuls of fine oatmeal. Boil an hour; then strain, and serve with cream or milk and sugar if ordered. Farina gruel is made in the same way. INDIAN OR CORN MEAL GRUEL. One quart of boiling water; one teaspoonful of salt. Mix three tablespoonfuls of corn meal with a little cold water, and stir in slowly. Boil one hour; strain and serve, a cupful at once. MILK PORRIDGE. One quart of boiling milk; two tablespoonfuls of flour mixed with a little cold milk and half a teaspoonful of salt. Stir into the milk, and boil half an hour. Strain and serve. If allowed, a handful of raisins and a little grated nutmeg may be boiled with it. WINE WHEY. Boil one cup of new milk, and add half a wine-glass of good sherry or Madeira wine. Boil a minute; strain, and use with or without sugar as liked. EGG-NOG. One egg; one tablespoonful of sugar; half a cup of milk; one tablespoonful of wine. Beat the sugar and yolk to a cream; add the wine, and then the milk. Beat the white to a stiff froth, and stir in very lightly. Omit the milk where more condensed nourishment is desired. ARROW-ROOT OR RICE JELLY. Two heaping teaspoonfuls of either arrow-root or rice flour; a pinch of salt; a heaping tablespoonful of sugar; one cup of boiling water. Mix the flour with a little cold water, and add to the boiling water. Boil until transparent, and pour into cups or small molds. For a patient with summer complaint, flavor by boiling a stick of cinnamon in it. For a fever patient add the juice of quarter of a lemon. DR. GAUNT'S RICE JELLY. Take four tablespoonfuls of rice, and boil it hard in three pints of water for twenty minutes. Let simmer for two hours. Then force through fine hair strainer, and allow it to cool. Place in an ice chest over night. DIRECTIONS FOR USE. Dissolve two tablespoonfuls of the rice jelly in each one-half pint of milk. RICE WATER FOR DRINK. One quart of boiling water; a pinch of salt; one tablespoonful of rice or rice flour. Boil half an hour, and strain. TOAST WATER. Toast two slices of bread very brown, but do not scorch. Put in a pitcher, and while hot pour on one quart of cold water. Let it stand half an hour, and it is ready for use. CRUST COFFEE. Two thick slices of graham or Boston brown bread toasted as brown as possible. Pour on one pint of boiling water, and steep ten minutes. Serve with milk and sugar, like coffee. BEEF JUICE. Broil a thick piece of beef steak three minutes. Squeeze all the juice with a lemon-squeezer into a cup; salt very lightly, and give like beef tea. JELLY AND ICE. Break ice in bits no bigger than a pea. A large pin will break off bits from a lump very easily. To a tablespoonful add one of wine jelly broken up. It is very refreshing in fever. PANADA. Lay in a bowl two Boston or graham crackers split; sprinkle on a pinch of salt, and cover with boiling water. Set the bowl in a saucepan of boiling water, and let it stand half an hour, till the crackers look clear. Slide into a hot saucer without breaking, and eat with cream and sugar. As they are only good hot, do just enough for the patient's appetite at one time. MILK TOAST. Toast one or two thin slices of bread; dip quickly in a little salted boiling water, and spread on a little butter. Boil a teacupful of milk; thicken with a teaspoonful of flour mixed in a little cold water with a pinch of salt; lay the toast in a small, hot, deep plate, and pour over the milk. Cream toast is made in the same way. BEEF SANDWICH. Two or three tablespoonfuls of raw, very tender beef, scraped fine, and spread between two slices of slightly buttered bread. Sprinkle on pepper and salt. PREPARED FLOUR. Tie a pint of flour tightly in a cloth, and boil for four hours. Scrape off the outer crust, and the inside will be found to be a dry ball. Grate this as required, allowing one tablespoonful wet in cold milk to a pint of boiling milk, and boiling till smooth. Add a saltspoonful of salt. This is excellent for summer complaint, whether in adults or children. The beaten white of an egg can also be stirred in if ordered. If this porridge is used from the beginning of the complaint, little or no medicine will be required. PARCHED RICE. Roast to a deep brown as you would coffee, and then cook as in rule for boiled rice, p. 199, and eat with cream and sugar. RICE COFFEE. Parch as above, and grind. Allow half a cup to a quart of boiling water, and let it steep fifteen minutes. Strain, and drink plain, or with milk and sugar. HERB TEAS. For the dried herbs allow one teaspoonful to a cup of boiling water. Pour the water on them; cover, and steep ten minutes or so. Camomile tea is good for sleeplessness; calamus and catnip for babies' colic; and cinnamon for hemorrhages and summer complaint. Slippery-elm and flax-seed are also good for the latter. BEEF STEAK OR CHOPS, ETC. With beef steak, cut a small thick piece of a nice shape; broil carefully, and serve on a very hot plate, salting a little, but using no butter unless allowed by the physician. Chops should be trimmed very neatly, and cooked in the same way. A nice way of serving a chop is to broil, and cut in small bits. Have ready a baked potato. Cut a slice from the top; take out the inside, and season as for eating; add the chop, and return all to the skin, covering it, and serving as hot as possible. When appetite has returned, poached eggs on toast, a little salt cod with cream, or many of the dishes given under the head of Breakfast Dishes, are relished. Prepare small quantities, preserving the right proportions of seasoning. TAPIOCA JELLY. Two ounces of tapioca,--about two tablespoonfuls,--soaked over-night in one cup of cold water. In the morning add a second cup of cold water, and boil till very clear. Add quarter of a cup of sugar; two teaspoonfuls of brandy or four of wine; or the thin rind and juice of a lemon may be used instead. Very good hot, but better poured into small molds wet with cold water, and turned out when firm. TAPIOCA GRUEL. Half a cup of tapioca soaked over-night in a cup of cold water. In the morning add a quart of milk and half a teaspoonful of salt, and boil three hours. It can be eaten plain, or with sugar and wine. Most of the blancmanges and creams given can be prepared in smaller quantities, if allowed. Baked custards can be made with the whites of the eggs, if a very delicate one is desired. APPLE WATER. Two roasted sour apples, or one pint of washed dried apples. Pour on one quart of boiling water; cover, and let it stand half an hour, when it is ready for use. HOUSEHOLD HINTS. SOFT SOAP. All mutton and ham fat should be melted and strained into a large stone pot. The practice of throwing lumps of fat into a pot, and waiting till there are several pounds before trying them out, is a disgusting one, as often such a receptacle is alive with maggots. Try out the fat, and strain as carefully as you would lard or beef drippings, and it is then always ready for use. If concentrated lye or potash, which comes in little tins, is used, directions will be found on the tins. Otherwise allow a pound of stone potash to every pound of grease. Twelve pounds of each will make a barrel of soft soap. Crack the potash in small pieces. Put in a large kettle with two gallons of water, and boil till dissolved. Then add the grease, and, when melted, pour all into a tight barrel. Fill it up with boiling water, and for a week, stir daily for five or ten minutes. It will gradually become like jelly. TO PURIFY SINKS AND DRAINS. To one pound of common copperas add one gallon of boiling water, and use when dissolved. The copperas is poison, and must never be left unmarked. FURNITURE POLISH. Mix two tablespoonfuls of sweet or linseed oil with a tablespoonful of turpentine, and rub on with a piece of flannel, polishing with a dry piece. TO KEEP EGGS. Be sure that the eggs are fresh. Place them points down in a stone jar or tight firkin, and pour over them the following brine, which is enough for a hundred and fifty:-- One pint of slacked lime, one pint of salt, two ounces of cream of tartar, and four gallons of water. Boil all together for ten minutes; skim, and, when cold, pour it over the eggs. They can also be kept in salt tightly packed, but not as well. TO MAKE HARD WATER SOFT. Dissolve in one gallon of boiling water a pound and a quarter of washing soda, and a quarter of a pound of borax. In washing clothes allow quarter of a cup of this to every gallon of water. TO TAKE OUT FRUIT-STAINS. Stretch the stained part tightly over a bowl, and pour on boiling water till it is free from spot. TO TAKE OUT INK-SPOTS. Ink spilled upon carpets or on woolen table-covers can be taken out, if washed at once in cold water. Change the water often, and continue till the stain is gone. MIXED SPICES. Three heaping tablespoonfuls of ground cinnamon, one heaping one each of clove and mace, and one even one of allspice. Mix thoroughly, and use for dark cakes and for puddings. SPICE SALT. Four ounces of salt; one of black pepper; one each of thyme, sweet marjoram, and summer savory; half an ounce each of clove, allspice, and mace; quarter of an ounce of cayenne pepper; one ounce of celery salt. Mix all together; sift three times, and keep closely covered. Half an ounce will flavor a stuffing for roast meat; and a tablespoonful is nice in many soups and stews. TO WASH GREASY TIN AND IRON. Pour a few drops of ammonia into every greasy roasting-pan, first half-filling with warm water. A bottle of ammonia should always stand near the sink for such uses. Never allow dirty pots or pans to stand and dry; for it doubles the labor of washing. Pour in water, and use ammonia, and the work is half done. TO CLEAN BRASS AND COPPER. Scrape a little rotten-stone fine, and make into a paste with sweet oil. Rub on with a piece of flannel; let it dry, and polish with a chamois-skin. Copper is cleaned either with vinegar and salt mixed in equal parts, or with oxalic acid. The latter is a deadly poison, and must be treated accordingly. WEIGHTS AND MEASURES. As many families have no scales for weighing, a table of measures is given which can be used instead. Weighing is always best, but not always convenient. The cup used is the ordinary coffee or kitchen cup, holding half a pint. A set of tin measures, from a gill up to a quart, is very useful in all cooking operations. One quart of sifted flour is one pound. One pint of granulated sugar is one pound. Two cups of butter packed are one pound. Ten eggs are one pound. Five cupfuls of sifted flour are one pound. A wine-glassful is half a gill. Eight even tablespoonfuls are a gill. Four even saltspoonfuls make a teaspoonful. A saltspoonful is a good measure of salt for all custards, puddings, blancmanges, &c. One teaspoonful of soda to a quart of flour. Two teaspoonfuls of soda to one of cream of tartar. The teaspoonful given in all these receipts is just rounded full, not heaped. Two heaping teaspoonfuls of baking powder to one quart of flour. One cup of sweet or sour milk as wetting for one quart of flour. TIME TABLE FOR ROASTED MEATS. Beef, from six to eight pounds, one hour and a half, or twelve minutes to the pound. Mutton, ten minutes to the pound for rare; fifteen for well-done. Lamb, a very little less according to age and size of roast. Veal, twenty minutes to a pound. Pork, half an hour to a pound. Turkey of eight or ten pounds weight, not less than three hours. Goose of seven or eight pounds, two hours. Chickens, from an hour to an hour and a half. Tame ducks, one hour. Game duck, from thirty to forty minutes. Partridges, grouse, &c., half an hour. Pigeons, half an hour. Small birds, twenty minutes. TIME TABLE FOR BOILED MEATS. Beef _à la mode_, eight pounds, four hours. Corned beef, eight pounds, four hours. Corned or smoked tongue, eight pounds, four hours. Ham, eight or ten pounds, five hours. Mutton, twenty minutes to a pound. Veal, half an hour to a pound. Turkey, ten pounds, three hours. Chickens, one hour and a half. Old fowls, two or three hours. TIME TABLE FOR FISH. Halibut and salmon, fifteen minutes to a pound. Blue-fish, bass, &c., ten minutes to a pound. Fresh cod, six minutes to a pound. Baked halibut, twelve minutes to a pound. Baked blue-fish, &c., ten minutes to a pound. Trout, pickerel, &c., eight minutes to a pound. TIME TABLE FOR VEGETABLES. _Half an hour_,--Pease, potatoes, asparagus, rice, corn, summer squash, canned tomatoes, macaroni. _Three-quarters of an hour_,--Young beets, young turnips, young carrots and parsnips, baked potatoes (sweet and Irish), boiled sweet potatoes, onions, canned corn, tomatoes. _One hour_,--New cabbage, shelled and string beans, spinach and greens, cauliflower, oyster-plant, and winter squash. _Two hours_,--Winter carrots, parsnips, turnips, cabbage, and onions. _Three to eight hours_,--Old beets. TIME TABLE FOR BREAD, CAKES, ETC. Bread,--large loaves, an hour; small loaves, from half to three-quarters of an hour. Biscuits and rolls, in from fifteen to twenty minutes. Brown bread, steamed, three hours. Loaves of sponge cake, forty-five minutes; if thin, about thirty. Loaves of richer cake, from forty-five minutes to an hour. Fruit cake, about two hours, if in two or three pound loaves. Small thin cakes and cookies, from ten to fifteen minutes. Watch carefully. Baked puddings, rice, &c., one hour. Boiled puddings, three hours. Custards to be watched and tested after the first fifteen minutes. Batter puddings baked, forty-five minutes. Pie-crust, about half an hour. DEVILED HAM. For this purpose, use either the knuckle or any odds and ends remaining. Cut off all dark or hard bits, and see that at least a quarter of the amount is fat. Chop as finely as possible, reducing it almost to a paste. For a pint-bowl of this, make a dressing as follows:-- One even tablespoonful of sugar; one even teaspoonful of ground mustard; one saltspoonful of Cayenne pepper; one teacupful of good vinegar. Mix the sugar, mustard, and pepper thoroughly, and add the vinegar little by little. Stir it into the chopped ham, and pack it in small molds, if it is to be served as a lunch or supper relish, turning out upon a small platter and garnishing with parsley. For sandwiches, cut the bread very thin; butter lightly, and spread with about a teaspoonful of the deviled ham. The root of a boiled tongue can be prepared in the same way. If it is to be kept some time, pack in little jars, and pour melted butter over the top. This receipt should have had place under "Meats," but was overlooked. LIST OF UTENSILS REQUIRED FOR SUCCESSFUL WORKING. TIN WARE. One boiler for clothes, holding eight or ten gallons.--Two dish-pans,--one large, one medium-sized.--One two-quart covered tin pail.--One four-quart covered tin pail.--Two thick tin four-quart saucepans.--Two two-quart saucepans.--Four measures, from one gill to a quart, and broad and low, rather than high.--Three tin scoops of different sizes for flour, sugar, &c.--Two pint and two half-pint molds for jellies.--Two quart molds.--One skimmer with long handle.--One large and one small dipper.--Four bread-pans, 10x4x4.--Three jelly-cake tins.--Six pie-plates.--Two long biscuit-tins.--One coffee-pot.--One colander.--One large grater.--One nutmeg-grater.--Two wire sieves; one ten inches across, the other four, and with tin sides.--One flour-sifter.--One fine jelly-strainer.--One frying-basket.--One Dover egg-beater.--One wire egg-beater.--One apple-corer.--One pancake-turner.--One set of spice-boxes, or a spice-caster.--One pepper-box.--One flour-dredger.--One sugar-dredger.--One biscuit-cutter.--One potato-cutter.--A dozen muffin-rings.--Small tins for little cakes.--One muffin-pan.--One double milk-boiler, the inside boiler holding two quarts.--One fish-boiler, which can also be used for hams.--One deep bread-pan; a dish-pan is good, but must be kept for this.--One steamer.--One pudding-boiler.--One cake-box.--Six teaspoons. WOODEN WARE. One bread-board.--One rolling-pin.--One meat-board.--One wash-board.--One lemon-squeezer.--One potato-masher.--Two large spoons.--One small one.--Nest of wooden boxes for rice, tapioca, &c.--Wooden pails for graham and corn meal.--Chopping-tray.--Water-pail.--Scrubbing-pail.--Wooden cover for flour-barrel.--One board for cutting bread.--One partitioned knife-box. IRON WARE. One pair of scales.--One two-gallon pot with steamer to fit.--One three-gallon soup-pot with close-fitting cover.--One three-gallon porcelain-lined kettle, to be kept only for preserving.--One four or six quart one, for apple sauce, &c.--One tea-kettle.--One large and one small frying-pan.--Two Russia or sheet iron dripping-pans; one large enough for a large turkey.--Two gem-pans with deep cups.--Two long-handled spoons.--Two spoons with shorter handles.--One large meat-fork.--One meat-saw.--One cleaver.--One griddle.--One wire broiler.--One toaster.--One waffle-iron.--One can-opener.--Three pairs of common knives and forks.--One small Scotch or frying kettle.--One chopping-knife.--One meat-knife.--One bread-knife.--One set of skewers.--Trussing-needles. EARTHEN AND STONE WARE. Two large mixing-bowls, holding eight or ten quarts each.--One eight-quart lip-bowl for cake.--Half a dozen quart bowls.--Half a dozen pint bowls.--Three or four deep plates for putting away cold food.--Six baking-dishes of different sizes, round or oval.--Two quart blancmange-molds.--Two or three pitchers.--Two stone crocks, holding a gallon each.--Two, holding two quarts each.--One bean-pot for baked beans.--One dozen Mason's jars for holding yeast, and many things used in a store closet.--Stone jugs for vinegar and molasses.--Two or three large covered stone jars for pickles.--One deep one for bread.--One earthen teapot.--One dozen pop-over cups.--One dozen custard-cups.--Measuring-cup. MISCELLANEOUS. Scrubbing and blacking brushes.--Soap-dish.--Knife-board.-- Vegetable-cutters.--Pastry-brush.--Egg-basket.--Market-basket.-- Broom.--Brush.--Dust-pan.--Floor and sink cloths.--Whisk-broom.-- Four roller-towels.--Twelve dish-towels.--Dishes enough for setting servants' table, heavy stone-china being best. HINTS TO TEACHERS. In beginning with a class of school-girls from fourteen to eighteen, it is best to let the first two or three lessons be demonstration lessons; that is, to have all operations performed by the teacher. An assistant may be chosen from the class, who can help in any required way. The receipts for the day should first be read, and copied plainly by all the pupils. Each process must be fully explained, and be as daintily and deftly performed as possible. Not more than six dishes at the most can be prepared in one lesson, and four will be the usual number. Two lessons a week, from two to three hours each, are all for which the regular school-course gives time; and there should be not more than one day between, as many dishes can not be completed in one lesson. After yeast and bread have been once made by the teacher, bread should be the first item in every lesson thereafter, and the class made a practice-class. Each pupil should make bread twice,--once under the teacher's supervision, and at least once entirely alone. In a large class this may occupy the entire time in the school-year. Let the most important operations be thoroughly learned, even if there is little variety. To make and bake all forms of bread, to broil a steak, boil a potato, and make good tea and coffee, may not seem sufficient result for a year's work; but the girl who can do this has mastered the principles of cooking, and is abundantly able to go on alone. The fire should be made and cared for by each in turn, and the best modes of washing dishes, and keeping the room and stores in the best order, be part of each lesson. Once a week let a topic be given out, on which all are to write, any ingredient in cooking being chosen, and the papers read and marked in order of merit. Once a month examine on these topics, and on what has been learned. Let digestion and forms of food be well understood, and spare no pains to make the lesson attractive and stimulating to interest. In classes for ladies the work is usually done entirely by the teacher, and at least five dishes are prepared. A large class can thus be taught; but the results will never be as satisfactory as in a practice-class, though the latter is of course much more troublesome to the teacher, as it requires far more patience and tact to watch and direct the imperfect doing of a thing than to do it one's self. A class lunch or supper is a pleasant way of demonstrating what progress has been made; and, in such entertainment, do not aim at great variety, but insist upon the perfect preparation of a few things. To lay and decorate a table prettily is an accomplishment, and each classroom should have enough china and glass to admit of this. To indicate the method which the writer has found practicable and useful, a course of twelve lessons is given, embracing the essential operations; and beyond this the teacher can construct her own bills of fare. When the making of bread begins, it will be found that not more than two or three other things can be made at one lesson. Let one of these be a simple cake or pudding for the benefit of the class, whose interest is wonderfully stimulated by something good to eat. Large white aprons and small half-sleeves to draw on over the dress-sleeves are essential, and must be insisted upon. A little cap of Swiss muslin is pretty, and finishes the uniform well, but is not a necessity. For the rest each teacher must judge for herself, only remembering to _demand the most absolute neatness_ in all work done, and to _give the most perfect patience_ no matter how stupid the pupil may seem. TWELVE LESSONS. LESSON FIRST. To make stock. Beef rolls. Apple float. Boiled custard. LESSON SECOND. To clarify fat or drippings. Clear soup. Beef soup with vegetables. To make caramel. Cream cakes. LESSON THIRD. Beef _à la mode_. To boil potatoes. Mashed potatoes. Potato snow. Potato croquettes. Yeast. Wine jelly. LESSON FOURTH. Bread. Plain rolls. Beef hash with potatoes. Beef croquettes. Coddled apples. LESSON FIFTH. Graham bread. Rye bread. To broil beef steak. To boil macaroni. Macaroni baked with cheese. To make a _roux_. Baked custard. LESSON SIXTH. Parker-House rolls. Steamed brown bread. Purée of salmon. Croquettes of salmon. Corn-starch pudding. LESSON SEVENTH. Baked fish. To devil ham. Stuffed eggs. Plain omelet. Saratoga potatoes. To use stale bread. Bread pudding and plain sauce. LESSON EIGHTH. Irish stew. Boiled cabbage. Baked cabbage. Lyonnaise potatoes. Whipped cream. Sponge cake. Charlotte Russe. LESSON NINTH. Bean soup. To dress and truss a chicken. Chicken fricassee,--brown. Chicken pie. Meringues, plain and with jelly. LESSON TENTH. Oyster soup. Oyster scallop. Fried oysters. Pie-crust. Oyster patties. Lemon and apple pie. LESSON ELEVENTH. To bone a turkey or chicken. Force-meat. Boiled parsnips. To boil rice. Parsnip fritters. LESSON TWELFTH. To decorate boned turkey. To roast beef. To bake potatoes with beef. Gravy. Rice croquettes. Chicken or turkey croquettes. LIST OF TOPICS FOR TWENTY LESSONS. Wheat and corn. Making of flour and meal. Tea. Coffee. Chocolate and cocoa. Tapioca and sago. Rice. Salt. Pepper. Cloves and allspice. Cinnamon, nutmegs, and mace. Ginger and mustard. Olive-oil. Raisins and currants. Macaroni and vermicelli. Potatoes. Sweet potatoes. Yeast and bread. Butter. Fats. LIST OF AUTHORITIES TO WHICH THE TEACHER MAY REFER. Draper's Physiology. Dalton's Physiology. Carpenter's Physiology. Foster's Physiology. Youman's Chemistry. Johnston's Chemistry of Common Life. Lewes's Physiology of Common Life. Gray's How Plants Grow. Rand's Vegetable Kingdom. Brillât Savarin's Art of Dining. Brillât Savarin's Physiologie du Goût. The Cook's Oracle, Dr. Kitchener. Food and Dietetics, by Dr. Chambers. Food and Dietetics, by Dr. Pary. Food and Digestion, by Dr. Brinton. Food, by Dr. Letheby. Cook-books at discretion. QUESTIONS FOR FINAL EXAMINATION AT END OF YEAR. 1. How is soup-stock made? 2. How is white soup made? 3. What are purées? 4. How is clear soup made? 5. How is caramel made, and what are its uses? 6. How is meat jelly made and colored? 7. How is meat boiled, roasted, and broiled? 8. How can cold meat be used? 9. How is poultry roasted and broiled? 10. How are potatoes cooked? 11. How are dried leguminous vegetables cooked? 12. How is rice boiled dry? 13. How is macaroni boiled? 14. How are white and brown sauces made? 15. Give plain salad-dressing and mayonnaise. 16. How are beef tea and chicken broth made? 17. Give receipts for plain omelet and omelette soufflée. 18. How are bread, biscuit, and rolls made? 19. How is pie-crust made? 20. Rule for puff paste? 21. How should you furnish a kitchen? 22. What are the best kinds of cooking utensils? END. BIBLIOGRAPHY. THE CHEMISTRY OF COOKERY. By W. Mattieu Williams. THE PERFECT WAY IN DIET. By Dr. Anna Kingsford. FOODS. By Edward Smith. FRUITS, AND HOW TO USE THEM. By Hester M. Poole. EATING FOR STRENGTH. Dr. M.L. Holbrook. FRUIT AND BREAD. By Gustav Schlickeyesen. Translated by Dr. M.L. Holbrook. FOOD AND FEEDING. By Sir Henry Thompson. MRS. LINCOLN'S BOSTON COOK BOOK. What to Do and What not to Do in Cooking. JUST HOW. By Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney. MRS. RORER'S PHILADELPHIA COOK BOOK. PRACTICAL COOKING AND DINNER-GIVING. Mrs. Henderson. IN THE KITCHEN. By Mrs. E.S. Miller. GOOD LIVING. A Practical Cook Book for Town and Country. By Sara Van Buren Brugière. FRENCH DISHES FOR AMERICAN TABLES. By Pierre Caron. CUISINE CLASSIQUE. Urbain-Dubois. CAR�ME. GOUFF�. SOYER. DIET FOR THE SICK. A Treatise on the Values of Foods, their Application to Special Conditions of Health and Disease, and on the Best Methods of their Preparation. By Mrs. Mary E. Henderson. Cookery-Books at discretion. INDEX. PART II. Apple Dumplings, 239. float, 246. water, 269. Artichokes, 206. Asparagus, 205. Authorities for reference, 286. Beans, string, 203. shelled, 203. Beef _a la mode_, 147. corned, 149. frizzled, 190. juice, 266. rolls, 153. sandwich, 267. steak, 158. steak for sick, 268. tea or essence, 262. tea for convalescents, 262. Virginia fashion, 148. Beets, 199. Bibliography, 288. Birds, 164. Biscuit, baking-powder, 216. beaten, 216. soda and cream of tartar, 215. Blancmange, 246. Boiled meats and stews, 146 Bread-making and flour, 208. Bread, 210. brown, 214. cake, 227. corn, 218. graham, 212. pancakes, 221. rye, 213. sour, 220. to use dry, 220. to freshen stale, 221. Breakfast puffs or popovers, 217. Brown-bread brewis, 220. Broth, mutton, 125, 263. chicken, 126. beef, tapioca, and egg, 263. Buns, plain, 228, Cake making, 221. Cake, apple, 220. bread, 227. cup, 224. Dover, 226. fruit, 225. gold, 227. huckleberry, 219. pound, 225. rolled jelly, 224. sponge, 223. white or silver, 226. Cakes, cream, 230. filling for, 231. drop, 230. buckwheat, 219. Cabbage, 201. Candy, cream, 259. Candy, molasses, 260. nut, 260. Chocolate creams, 260. caramels, 260 Cocoanut drops, 260. Canning, General Rules for, 253. tomatoes, 253. Caramel, 131. Carrots, 200. Carrots _sautés_, 200. Casserole of rice and meat, 169. Cauliflower, 201. Cheese fondu, 184. soufflé, 184. Charlotte Russe, 247. Cheese straws, 237. Chicken broth, 126. broth for sick, 263. croquettes, Philadelphia, 168. croquettes, 167. fricassee, brown, 165. fricassee, white, 166. fried, 165. jellied, 173. panada, 263. pie, 160. roasted or boiled, 164. salad, 179. Chocolate, 196. Cocoa, 196. Coffee, 194. crust, 266. rice, 267. Copper, to clean, 272. Corn, green, 204. fritters, 204. pudding, 204. Cream, Bavarian, 247. fried, 249. fruit, 248. ice, with cream, 250. ice, with eggs, 250. to freeze, 249. Spanish, 247. strawberry, 248. whipped, 247. Crisped crackers, 220. Croquettes, chicken, 167. potato, 198. rice, 207. Crushed wheat, boiled, 185. Curries, 153. Custard, baked, 245. boiled, 245. pie, 236. Doughnuts, 228. Dressing, boiled for cold slaw, 179. for poultry, 162. without oil, 179. plain salad, 177. Drop cakes, 230. Duck, roast, 164. Egg-nog, 264. Egg-plant, 204. baked, 205. fritters, 204. Eggs, baked, 181. boiled, 180. poached, 181. scrambled, 181. stuffed, 182. to keep, 271. Examination questions, 287. Fish, 131. baked, 133. balls, 188. boiled, 134. broiled, 135. chowder, 140. fried, 136. hash, 189. potted, 139. salt cod, boiled, 188. salt cod, with cream, 139. spiced, 139. stewed, 137. with cream, 189. Flour browned for soup, 130. prepared, 267. Freezing ices and creams, 249. Fritters, clam, 143. oyster, 143. peach, 249. Fruits, candied, 256. jellied, 256. Fruit-stains, to take out, 271. Fruit cream, 248. Furniture polish, 270. Gingerbread, 229. Ginger snaps, 229. Goose, roasted, 164. Gruel, corn meal or Indian, 264. oatmeal, 264. tapioca, 269. Ham, boiled, 150. deviled, 170. fried, 160. Hash, meat, 191. Hasty pudding, 186. Herb teas, 267. Herring, roe, 189. Hints to teachers, 280. Hoe-cake, 218. Hominy cakes, 186. coarse, 185. fine, 186. Huckleberry cake, 219. Ink-spots, to take out, 271. Iron or tin, to wash, 272. Italia's Pride, 169. Jams, 254. Jelly and ice, 266. arrow-root, 265. rice, Dr. Gaunt's, 265. chicken, 263. currant, 255. fruit, 256. lemon, 251. rice, 265. tapioca, 268. wine, 251. Jumbles, 230. List of utensils required, 277. Lobster, boiled, 143. curried, 144. Macaroni, 207. with cheese, 208. Mackerel, salt, 189. Marmalade, 254. Marmalade, orange, 255. Mayonnaise, 178. of salmon, 180. Meats, 144. roasted, 154. broiled and fried, 158. Meat, cold, to warm, 161. Meringues, 231. Mince-meat, for pies, 237. Muffins, graham, 213. rye, 213. Mush, 186. Mutton, boiled, 149. broth, 125. broth for sick, 263. chops, 268. leg of, stuffed, 155. roasted, 155. Oatmeal, boiled, 185. Omelet, plain, 182. baked, 183. Omelette soufflée, 248. Onions, boiled, 201. Oyster or clam fritters, 143. Oyster-plant, 200. Oysters, fried, 141. for pie or patties, 142. scalloped, 141. smothered, 143. spiced or pickled, 142. stewed, 141. Panada, 266. Parsnips, 199. fritters, 199. Pastry and pies, 232. Patties, 233. Pease, 202. field, 202. Pickles, cucumber, 257. ripe cucumber, 258. melon-rind, 258. sweet; peaches, &c, 258, Pie, cherry or berry, 236. custard, 236. dried-apple, 234. grandmother's apple-pie, 234. lemon, 235. squash or pumpkin, 236. sweet potato, or pudding, 235. Plain pie-crust, 232. Pork and beans, 157. roasted, 157. steak, 160. Potato croquettes, 198. snow, 198. Potatoes, baked, 198. baked with beef, 198. boiled, 197. Lyonnaise, 187. mashed, 198. Saratoga, 188. Potatoes, stewed, 187. sweet, 199. what to do with cold, 187. Poultry, to clean, 161. dressing for, 162. Porridge, milk, 264. Preserves, 254. Pudding, any-day plum, 240. batter, 240. bread, 241. bread-and-apple, 242. bread-and-butter, 241. bird's-nest, 242. corn-starch, 243. cabinet, 244. corn-meal or Indian, 245. English plum, 239. gelatine, 244. minute, 243. plain rice, 243. Sunder land, 241. tapioca, 242. tapioca cream, 243. tipsy, 246. Puff paste, 233. Purées, 128. Rammekins, 237. Rice, boiled, 207. croquettes, 207. water, 265. parched, 267. Rolls, plain, 214. Parker-House, 215, Roux, to make, 174. Salads, 173. Salmi of duck or game, 169. Sauces, 173. Sauce, apple, 176. bread, 174. celery, 175 cranberry, 175. foaming, 176. fruit, 177. hard, 177. mayonnaise, 178. mint, 175. molasses, 176. plain pudding, 176. Spanish tomato, 178. Sausage, fried, 190. Short-cake, 217. Sinks and drains, to purify, 270. Soft soap, 270. Soup, amber or clear, 123. beef, with vegetables, 122. clam, 127. mock turtle, 125. onion, 130. oyster, 127. pea, 129. tomato, without meat, 126. tomato, hasty, 126. turtle-bean, 129. white, 124. Spanish tomato sauce, 178. Spinach, 205. Spice salt, 272. Spices, mixed, 271. Stew, Brunswick, 154. brown, 152. Irish, 151. white, 152. Stock and seasoning, 119. Squash, winter, 202. summer, 202. Succotash, 203. Tea, 194. Time table for roasted meats, 273. for boiled meats, 274. for fish, 274. for vegetables, 274. bread, cake, &c., 275. Toast, dry or buttered, 192. for sick, 266. milk, 193, 266, water, 193, 265. Topics for twenty lessons, 285. Tomato catchup, 259. chutney, 257. Tomatoes, baked, 206. canned, 253. stewed, 206. fried, 206. boiled, 207. Tongue, boiled, 150. deviled, 170. Tripe, 161. Turkey, boiled, 167. boned, 171. roasted, 163. Turnips, 200. Twelve lessons, 282. Veal, 156. cutlets, 159. loaf, 191. minced, 192. Venison, roast, 157. Wafers, 216. Waffles, 216. rice or hominy, 217. Water, apple, 269. toast, 266. hard, to make soft, 271. ices, 250. Weights and measures, 272. Wine whey, 264. Yeast, 209. SOME PASSAGES IN THE PRACTICE OF DR. MARTHA SCARBOROUGH. BY HELEN CAMPBELL. _16mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00._ Besides being equal to Mrs. Campbell's best work in the past, it is strikingly original in presenting the ethics of the body as imperiously claiming recognition in the radical cure of inebriety. It forces attention to the physical and spiritual value of foods, and weaves precedent and precept into one of the most beguiling stories of recent date. It is the gospel of good food, with the added influence of fresh air, sunlight, cleanliness, and physical exercise that occupy profitably the attention of Helen Campbell. Martha is a baby when the story begins, and a child not yet in her teens when the narrative comes to an end, but she has a salutary power over many lives. Her father is a wise country physician, who makes his chaise, in his daily progress about the hills, serve as his little daughter's cradle and kindergarten. When she gets old enough to understand he expounds to her his views of the sins committed against hygiene, and his lessons sink into an appreciative mind. When he encounters particularly hard cases she applies his principles with unfailing logic, and is able to suggest helpful means of cure. The old doctor is delightfully sagacious in demonstrating how the confirmed pie-eater marries the tea inebriate, with the result in doughnut-devouring, dyspeptic, and consumptive offspring. "What did they die of?" asked little Martha, in the village graveyard; and her father answers solemnly, "Intemperance." So Martha declares that she will be a "food doctor," and later on she helps her father in saving several victims of strong drink. The book is one that should find hosts of earnest readers, for its admonitions are sadly needed, not in the country alone, but in the city, where, if better ideas of diet prevail, people have yet as a rule a long way to go before they attain the path of wisdom. Meanwhile it remains true, as Mrs. Campbell makes Dr Scarborough declare, that the cabbage soup and black bread of the poorest French peasants are really better suited to the sustenance of healthy life than the "messes" that pass for food in many parts of rural New England.--_The Beacon._ _Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the Publishers_, LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, BOSTON. ROGER BERKELEY'S PROBATION. A Story. BY HELEN CAMPBELL, _Author of "Prisoners of Poverty," "Mrs. Herndon's Income," "Miss Melinda's Opportunity," "The What-to-do Club," etc._ 16mo, cloth, price, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. This story is on the scale of a cabinet picture. It presents interesting figures, natural situations, and warm colors. Written in a quiet key, it is yet moving, and the letter from Bolton describing the fortunate sale of Roger's painting of "The Factory Bell" sends a tear of sympathetic joy to the reader's eye. Roger Berkeley was a young American art student in Paris, called home by the mortal sickness of his mother, and detained at home by the spendthriftness of his father and the embarrassment that had overtaken the family affairs through the latter cause. A concealed mortgage on the old homestead, the mysterious disappearance of a package of bonds intended for Roger's student use, and the paralytic incapacity of the father to give the information which his conscience prompted him to give, have a share in the development of the story. Roger is obliged for the time to abandon his art work, and takes a situation in a mill; and this trying diversion from his purpose is his "probation." How he profits by this loss is shown in the result. The mill-life gives Mrs. Campbell opportunity to express herself characteristically in behalf of down-trodden "labor." The whole story is simple, natural, sweet, and tender; and the figures of Connie, poor little cripple, and Miss Medora Flint, angular and snappish domestic, lend picturesqueness to its group of characters.--_Literary World_. _Sold by all Booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the Publishers_, LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, BOSTON. MISS MELINDA'S OPPORTUNITY. A STORY. BY HELEN CAMPBELL, AUTHOR OF "THE WHAT-TO-DO CLUB," "MRS. HERNDON'S INCOME," "PRISONERS OF POVERTY." 16mo. Cloth, price, $1.00; paper covers, 50 cents. "Mrs. Helen Campbell has written 'Miss Melinda's Opportunity' with a definite purpose in view, and this purpose will reveal itself to the eyes of all of its philanthropic readers. The true aim of the story is to make life more real and pleasant to the young girls who spend the greater part of the day toiling in the busy stores of New York. Just as in the 'What-to-do Club' the social level of village life was lifted several grades higher, so are the little friendly circles of shop-girls made to enlarge and form clubs in 'Miss Melinda's Opportunity.'"--_Boston Herald._ "'Miss Melinda's Opportunity,' a story by Helen Campbell, is in a somewhat lighter vein than are the earlier books of this clever author; but it is none the less interesting and none the less realistic. The plot is unpretentious, and deals with the simplest and most conventional of themes; but the character-drawing is uncommonly strong, especially that of Miss Melinda, which is a remarkably vigorous and interesting transcript from real life, and highly finished to the slightest details. There is much quiet humor in the book, and it is handled with skill and reserve. Those who have been attracted to Mrs. Campbell's other works will welcome the latest of them with pleasure and satisfaction."--_Saturday Gazette._ "The best book that Helen Campbell has yet produced is her latest story, 'Miss Melinda's Opportunity,' which is especially strong in character-drawing, and its life sketches are realistic and full of vigor, with a rich vein of humor running through them. Miss Melinda is a dear lady of middle life, who has finally found her opportunity to do a great amount of good with her ample pecuniary means by helping those who have the disposition to help themselves. The story of how some bright and energetic girls who had gone to New York to earn their living put a portion of their earnings into a common treasury, and provided themselves with a comfortable home and good fare for a very small sum per week, is not only of lively interest, but furnishes hints for other girls in similar circumstances that may prove of great value. An unpretentious but well-sustained plot runs through the book, with a happy ending, in which Miss Melinda figures as the angel that she is."--_Home Journal._ _Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers_, LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, BOSTON. THE WHAT-TO-DO CLUB A STORY FOR GIRLS BY HELEN CAMPBELL. 16mo. Cloth. Price $1.50. "'The What-to-do Club' is an unpretending story. It introduces us to a dozen or more village girls of varying ranks. One has had superior opportunities; another exceptional training; two or three have been 'away to school;' some are farmers' daughters; there is a teacher, two or three poor self-supporters,--in fact, about such an assemblage as any town between New York and Chicago might give us. But while there is a large enough company to furnish a delightful coterie, there is absolutely no social life among them.... Town and country need more improving, enthusiastic work to redeem them from barrenness and indolence. Our girls need a chance to do independent work, to study practical business, to fill their minds with other thoughts than the petty doings of neighbors. A What-to-do Club is one step toward higher village life. It is one step toward disinfecting a neighborhood of the poisonous gossip which floats like a pestilence around localities which ought to furnish the most desirable homes in our country.'"--_The Chautauquan._ "'The What-to-do Club' is a delightful story for girls, especially for New England girls, by Helen Campbell. The heroine of the story is Sybil Waite, the beautiful, resolute, and devoted daughter of a broken-down but highly educated Vermont lawyer. The story shows how much it is possible for a well-trained and determined young woman to accomplish when she sets out to earn her own living, or help others. Sybil begins with odd jobs of carpentering, and becomes an artist so woodwork. She is first jeered at, then admired, respected, and finally loved by a worthy man. The book closes pleasantly with John claiming Sybil as his own. The labors of Sybil and her friends and of the New Jersey 'Busy Bodies,' which are said to be actual facts, ought to encourage many young women to more successful competition in the battles of life.'"--_Golden Rule._ "In the form of a story, this book suggests ways in which young women may make money at home, with practical directions for so doing. Stories with a moral are not usually interesting, but this one is an exception to the rule. The narrative is lively, the incidents probable and amusing, the characters well-drawn, and the dialects various and characteristic. Mrs. Campbell is a natural storyteller, and has the gift of making a tale interesting. Even the recipes for pickles and preserves, evaporating fruits, raising poultry, and keeping bees, are made poetic and invested with a certain ideal glamour, and we are thrilled and absorbed by an array of figures of receipts and expenditures, equally with the changeful incidents of flirtation, courtship, and matrimony. Fun and pathos, sense and sentiment, are mingled throughout, and the combination has resulted in one of the brightest stories of the season."--_Woman's Journal._ _Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by publishers_, LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, BOSTON. MRS. HERNDON'S INCOME. A NOVEL. BY HELEN CAMPBELL. AUTHOR OF "THE WHAT-TO-DO CLUB." One volume. 16mo. Cloth. $1.50. "Confirmed novel-readers who have regarded fiction as created for amusement and luxury alone, lay down this book with a new and serious purpose in life. The social scientist reads it, and finds the solution of many a tangled problem; the philanthropist finds in it direction and counsel. A novel written with a purpose, of which never for an instant does the author lose sight, it is yet absorbing in its interest. It reveals the narrow motives and the intrinsic selfishness of certain grades of social life; the corruption of business methods; the 'false, fairy gold,' of fashionable charities, and 'advanced' thought. Margaret Wentworth is a typical New England girl, reflective, absorbed, full of passionate and repressed intensity under a quiet and apparently cold exterior. The events that group themselves about her life are the natural result of such a character brought into contact with real life. The book cannot be too widely read."--_Boston Traveller._ "If the 'What-to-do Club' was clever, this is decidedly more so. It is a powerful story, and is evidently written in some degree, we cannot quite say how great a degree, from fact. The personages of the story are very well drawn,--indeed, 'Amanda Briggs' is as good as anything American fiction has produced. We fancy we could pencil on the margin the real names of at least half the characters. It is a book for the wealthy to read that they may know something that is required of them, because it does not ignore the difficulties in their way, and especially does not overlook the differences which social standing puts between class and class. It is a deeply interesting story considered as mere fiction, one of the best which has lately appeared. We hope the authoress will go on in a path where she has shown herself so capable."--_The Churchman._ "In Mrs. Campbell's novel we have a work that is not to be judged by ordinary standards. The story holds the reader's interest by its realistic pictures of the local life around us, by its constant and progressive action, and by the striking dramatic quality of scenes and incidents, described in a style clear, connected, and harmonious. The novel-reader who is not taken up and made to share the author's enthusiasm before getting half-way through the book must possess a taste satiated and depraved by indulgence in exciting and sensational fiction. The earnestness of the author's presentation of essentially great purposes lends intensity to her narrative. Succeeding as she does in impressing us strongly with her convictions, there is nothing of dogmatism in their preaching. But the suggestiveness of every chapter is backed by pictures of real life."--_New York World._ _Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers_, LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, BOSTON. PRISONERS OF POVERTY. WOMEN WAGE-WORKERS: THEIR TRADES AND THEIR LIVES. BY HELEN CAMPBELL, AUTHOR OF "THE WHAT-TO-DO CLUB," "MRS. HERNDON'S INCOME," "MISS MELINDA'S OPPORTUNITY," ETC. 16mo. Cloth. $1.00. Paper, 50 cents. The author writes earnestly and warmly, but without prejudice, and her volume is an eloquent plea for the amelioration of the evils with which she deals. In the present importance into which the labor question generally has loomed, this volume is a timely and valuable contribution to its literature, and merits wide reading and careful thought.--_Saturday Evening Gazette._ She has given us a most effective picture of the condition of New York working-women, because she has brought to the study of the subject not only great care but uncommon aptitude. She has made a close personal investigation, extending apparently over a long time; she has had the penetration to search many queer and dark corners which are not often thought of by similar explorers; and we suspect that, unlike too many philanthropists, she has the faculty of winning confidence and extracting the truth. She is sympathetic, but not a sentimentalist; she appreciates exactness in facts and figures; she can see both sides of a question, and she has abundant common sense.--_New York Tribune._ Helen Campbell's "Prisoners of Poverty" is a striking example of the trite phrase that "truth is stranger than fiction." It is a series of pictures of the lives of women wage-workers in New York, based on the minutest personal inquiry and observation. No work of fiction has ever presented more startling pictures, and, indeed, if they occurred in a novel would at once be stamped as a figment of the brain.... Altogether, Mrs. Campbell's book is a notable contribution to the labor literature of the day, and will undoubtedly enlist sympathy for the cause of the oppressed working-women whose stories do their own pleading.--_Springfield Union._ It is good to see a new book by Helen Campbell. She has written several for the cause of working-women, and now comes her latest and best work, called "Prisoners of Poverty," on women wage-workers and their lives. It is compiled from a series of papers written for the Sunday edition of a New York paper. The author is well qualified to write on these topics, having personally investigated the horrible situation of a vast army of working-women in New York,--a reflection of the same conditions that exist in all large cities. It is glad tidings to hear that at last a voice is raised for the woman side of these great labor questions that are seething below the surface calm of society. And it is well that one so eloquent and sympathetic as Helen Campbell has spoken in behalf of the victims and against the horrors, the injustices, and the crimes that have forced them into conditions of living--if it can be called living--that are worse than death. It is painful to read of these terrors that exist so near our doors, but none the less necessary, for no person of mind or heart can thrust this knowledge aside. It is the first step towards a solution of the labor complications, some of which have assumed foul shapes and colossal proportions, through ignorance, weakness, and wickedness.--_Hartford Times._ _Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers_, LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, BOSTON. Transcriber's Notes for e-book: In this book, spelling is inconsistent, but is generally left as found in the original scans used for transcription. Some of the most common inconsistencies are noted below. If you are using this book for research, please verify any spelling or punctuation with another source. Spelling variants: omelet(te), omlet souflé(e) Gouffé(e) cocoanut, cocoa-nut dishcloth, dish-cloth forcemeat, force-meat oilcloth, oil-cloth popovers, pop-overs schoolgirls, school-girls storeroom, store-room underdone, under-done underwear, under-wear Obvious typos corrected: identital for identical cacoa-nut for cocoa-nut BOILED for BROILED 
18097	----	PUBLIC SCHOOL DOMESTIC SCIENCE BY MRS. J. HOODLESS, President School Of Domestic Science, Hamilton. This Book may be used as a Text-Book in any High or Public School, if so ordered by a resolution of the Trustees. TORONTO: THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED, 1898. Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight, by THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED, Toronto, Ontario, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. [Illustration: A YOUNG HOUSEKEEPER.] "I have come to the conclusion that more than half the disease which embitters the latter half of life is due to avoidable errors in diet, and that more mischief in the form of actual disease, of impaired vigour, and of shortened life, accrues to civilized man in England and throughout Central Europe from erroneous habits of eating than from the habitual use of alcoholic drink, considerable as I know that evil to be."--_Sir Henry Thompson._ * * * * * "Knowledge which subserves self-preservation by preventing loss of health is of primary importance. We do not contend that possession of such knowledge would by any means wholly remedy the evil. But we do contend that the right knowledge impressed in the right way would effect much; and we further contend that as the laws of health must be recognized before they can be fully conformed to, the imparting of such knowledge must precede a more rational living."--_Herbert Spencer._ * * * * * "Cooking means the knowledge of Medea and Circe, and of Calypso and Helen, and of Rebekah, and of the Queen of Sheba. It means the knowledge of all fruits, and herbs, and balms, and spices, and of all that is healing and sweet in fields and groves, and savory in meats; it means carefulness, and inventiveness, and watchfulness, and willingness, and readiness of appliance; it means much tasting and no wasting; it means English thoroughness, and French art, and Arabian hospitality; it means, in fine, that you are to be perfect and always 'ladies'--'loaf-givers.'"--_Ruskin._ PREFACE. An eminent authority[1] says: "Up to the age of sixteen even a lucid statement of principles is received by all but a few pupils as dogma. They do not and cannot in any adequate sense realize the reasoning process by which scientific conclusions are reached. They are taught not only facts but classifications and laws, and causes in relation to their effect. These are not, in the majority of cases, elaborated by the pupil. The teaching of them accordingly degenerates into a statement of facts, and the learning of them into an act of memory." To obviate this condition, or to at least neutralize its effects somewhat, is one of the principal reasons for introducing Domestic Science into the Public School curriculum; a science which relates so closely to the daily life that it cannot be left to an act of memory; where cause and effect are so palpable that the pupil may readily arrive at an individual conclusion. The aim of this text-book is to assist the pupil in acquiring a knowledge of the fundamental principles of correct living, to co-ordinate the regular school studies so as to make a practical use of knowledge already acquired. Arithmetic plays an important part in the arranging of weights and measures, in the study of the analysis and relative value of various kinds of food, in estimating the cost of manufactured products in proportion to their market value, in the purchase of food material, etc. History and geography are closely allied to the study of the diet and customs of the different countries, with their variety of climate and products. Physiology and temperance principles permeate the whole course of study. In addition to these are the direct lessons, provided by the practice work, in neatness, promptness and cleanliness. It will therefore be necessary to have a wide general knowledge before entering upon a course in Domestic Science. Owing to the limited time allowed for this course in the Public Schools, it will be impossible to teach more than a few of the first principles governing each department of the work, viz., a knowledge of the constituent parts of the human body; the classification of food and the relation of each class to the sustenance and repair of the body; simple recipes illustrating the most wholesome and economical methods of preparing the various kinds of food; the science of nutrition, economy and hygiene; general hints on household management, laundry work, and care of the sick. To enter more fully into the chemistry of food, bacteriology, etc., would tend to cause confusion in the mind of the average school girl, and possibly create a distaste for knowledge containing so much abstract matter. This book is not a teacher's manual, nor is it intended to take the place of the teacher in any way. The normal training prescribed for teachers will enable them to supplement the information contained herein, by a much more general and comprehensive treatment of the various questions, than would be possible or judicious in a primary text-book. It has been found difficult for pupils to copy the recipes given with each lesson, or to write out the instructions carefully without infringing upon the time which should be devoted to practice work.[2] In order to meet this difficulty, also to enable the pupil to work at home under the same rules which govern the class work, simple recipes are given, beginning with a class requiring a knowledge of heat and its effect, going on to those requiring hand dexterity, before attempting the more difficult subjects. After the pupils have acquired a knowledge of the "why and wherefore" of the different processes required in cooking, they will have little difficulty in following the more elaborate recipes given in the numberless cook-books provided for household use. Once the art--and it is a fine art--of cookery is mastered, it becomes not only a pleasant occupation but provides excellent mental exercise, thereby preventing the reaction which frequently follows school life. The tables given are to be used for reference, and _not to be memorized_ by the pupil. The writer is greatly indebted to Prof. Atwater for his kindly interest and assistance in providing much valuable information, which in some instances is given verbatim; also to Dr. Gilman Thompson for permission to give extracts from his valuable book, "Practical Dietetics"; to Prof. Kinne, Columbia University (Domestic Science Dept.), for review and suggestions; to Miss Watson, Principal Hamilton School of Domestic Science, for practical hints and schedule for school work. The Boston Cook Book (with Normal Instruction), by Mrs. M.J. Lincoln; and the Chemistry of Cooking and Cleaning, by Ellen H. Richards (Prof. of Sanitary Science, Boston Institute of Technology), and Miss Talbot, are recommended to students who desire further information on practical household matters. The publications of the U.S. Experiment Stations, by Prof. Atwater and other eminent chemists, contain much valuable information. To the school-girls, and future housekeepers of Ontario, this book is respectfully dedicated. ADELAIDE HOODLESS. "EASTCOURT," Hamilton, June, 1898. FOOTNOTES: [1] S.S. Laurie, A.M., LL.D., Prof. of the Institutes and History of Education, Edinburgh University. [2] Where time is allowed, much benefit may be derived from writing notes, as a study in composition, spelling, etc. SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHER. Owing to the limitations of a text-book, it will be necessary for the teacher to enter very carefully into all the details of the various questions; to explain the underlying principles so thoroughly that "the why and the wherefore" of every action in the preparation of food will be clearly understood. She should endeavor to impress upon the pupils the value of thoroughly understanding the relation of food to the body. In practice lessons frequent _reference_ should be made to the analysis of the various foods, as given in the tables and charts. The first practice lesson should be given on the making and care of a fire, regulating dampers, cleaning stove, etc. The pupils should then be taught the name and place of all the utensils. Special attention should be given to the explanation of weights and measures; the table of abbreviations should be memorized. Arrange the class work so that each pupil may in alternation share the duties of both kitchen work and cooking. Personal cleanliness must be insisted upon. Special attention should be given to the hands and nails. The hair should be carefully pinned back or confined in some way, and covered by a cap. A large clean apron and a holder should be worn while at work. Never allow the pupils to use a handkerchief or their aprons in place of a holder. Untidy habits must not be allowed in the class-room. Set an example of perfect order and neatness, and insist upon pupils following that example. Teach the pupils that cooking may be done without soiling either hands or clothes. The pupils should do all the work of the class-room, except scrubbing the floor. Everything must be left in perfect order at the close of each lesson. Frequent _reviews_ are absolutely necessary. Urge the pupils to think for themselves, and not to rely upon the text-book. Where pupils are backward, or have not had previous practice in kitchen work, give special attention to their manner of holding a knife or spoon in preparing articles for use, and in beating or stirring mixtures. Encourage deftness and light handling of kitchen ware. Insist upon promptness and keeping within the time limit, both in preparing the food and in the cooking. Owing to the variety of climate and markets, it would be impossible to arrange the lessons in the text-book in regular order. A few sample menus are given at the back of the book, but each teacher must be governed by circumstances in arranging the lessons for her class. For instance, recipes without eggs should be given in mid-winter, when eggs are dear. Fruits and vegetables must be given in season. The recipes given in the text-book are suitable for class work; in some cases it may be necessary to divide them, as the quantities given are intended for home practice. The teacher should consider herself at liberty to substitute any recipe which she may consider valuable. The digestibility of food, the effect of stimulants--especially of tea and coffee, the value of fresh air, etc., should be carefully impressed upon the pupil. The teacher must keep the object of this instruction constantly before her: (1) to co-ordinate other school studies, such as arithmetic, history, geography, physiology and temperance; (2) to develop the mental in conjunction with the manual powers of the children; (3) to enable pupils to understand the reason for doing certain things in a certain way; in other words, to work with an intelligent conception of the value, both physically and hygienically, of knowing how the daily duties should be performed. In order that material may not be needlessly destroyed, each class of food should be introduced by an experimental lesson. For instance, before giving a lesson in the preparation of starches, each pupil should be given an opportunity to learn how to mix and stir the mixture over the fire, so as to prevent it from burning or becoming lumpy; this may be done by using water and common laundry starch, or flour. The same test applies to sauces, etc. A few cheap apples and potatoes may be used in learning to pare these articles. The effect of cold and hot water on albumen and tissues may be illustrated by the cheaper pieces of meat. Although the more scientific studies are grouped together, it does not follow that they are to be studied in the order given. The teacher must arrange her lessons--from the beginning--so as to include a certain amount of the theory with the practice work. Frequent reference should be made during practice lessons to the various chapters bearing more directly upon the science of cooking, so as to interest the pupil in the theoretical study of the food question. The teacher should insist upon the pupils taking careful notes while she is demonstrating a lesson, so that they may not be entirely dependent upon the text-book, which from its limitations must simply serve as the key-note for further study. Special attention must be given to the chapter on "Digestion," page 58, in the Public School Physiology. This chapter should be studied--especially pages 71-75--in conjunction with "Food Classifications" (Chap. 2); also in dealing with the digestibility of starches, etc. COMPOSITION OF FOOD MATERIALS--(_Atwater_) _Nutritive Ingredients, Refuse, and Food Value._ Nutrients: P--Protein. F--Fats. C--Carbohydrates. M--Mineral Matters. Non-nutrients: W--Water. R--Refuse. Fuel Value: X--Calories. _Protein_ Compounds, e.g., lean of meat, white of egg, casein (curd) of milk, and gluten of wheat, make muscle, blood, bone, etc. _Fats_, e.g., fat of meat, butter, and oil, \ \ serve as fuel to yield / heat and muscular power. _Carbohydrates_, e.g., starch and sugar, / Nutrients, etc., p.c | 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100 ---------------------+-------------------------------------------------| Fuel value of 1 lb. | 400 800 1200 1600 2000 2400 2800 3200 3600 4000 | | | | | | | | | | | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPP|FFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRR| Beef, round |XXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPPPP|FFFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW| Beef, round[A] |XXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPP|FFFFFFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRR| Beef, sirloin |XXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPPP|FFFFFFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW| Beef, sirloin[A] |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPP|FFFFFFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRRRRRRR| Beef, rib |XXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPPP|FFFFFFFFFFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW| Beef, rib[A] |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPP|FFFFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRRRR| Mutton, leg |XXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPP|FFFFFFFFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRRR| Pork, spare rib |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PP|FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF|MM|WWWWWW|RRR| Pork, salt |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPP|FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF|MM|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRRR| Ham, smoked |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPP|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRRRRRRRRRR| Codfish, fresh |XXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPPP|MMMMMMM|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRRRRRRRR| Codfish, salt |XXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PP|F|CC|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW| Oysters |XXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |P|F|CC|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW| Milk |XXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |P|FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF|C|M|WWWW| Butter |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPPPPPPP|FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF|C|MM|WWWWWWWWWWWWW| Cheese |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPP|FFFF|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRR| Eggs |XXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPP|F|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWW| Wheat bread |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPP|F|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC|M|WWWWW| Wheat flour |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPP|FF|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC|M|WWWWWW| Cornmeal |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPP|FFF|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC|M|WW| Oatmeal |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PPPPPPPPPP|F|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC|MM|WWWWW| Beans, dried |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |PP|F|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC|M|WWWWW| Rice |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |P|CCCC|M|WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW|RRRRRR| Potatoes |XXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| |CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC| Sugar |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | ---------------------+----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----|----| [A] Without bone. PECUNIARY ECONOMY OF FOOD--(_Atwater_). _Amounts of actually Nutritive Ingredients obtained in different Food Materials for 10 cents._ P--Protein. F--Fats. C--Carbohydrates. X--Fuel Value. _Protein_ compounds, e.g., lean of meat, white of egg, casein (curd) of milk, and gluten of wheat, make muscle, blood, bone, etc. _Fats_, e.g., fat of meat, butter and oil, \ \ serve as fuel to yield / heat and muscular power. _Carbohydrates_, e.g., starch and sugar, / --------------+-------+------+--------------------------------------------| | Price | Ten | | | per | cents| Pounds of Nutrients and Calories of | | pound.| will | Fuel Value in 10 cents worth. | | | buy--| | --------------+-------+------+--------------------------------------------| | Cents.| Lbs. | 1 Lb. 2 Lbs. 3 Lbs. 4 Lbs. | | | | 2000 Cal. 4000 Cal. 6000 Cal. 8000 Cal.| | | | | | | | | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |PP|F| | Beef, round | 12 | .83 |XXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |P|F| | Beef, sirloin | 18 | .55 |XXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |P|F| | Beef, rib | 16 | .63 |XXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |PP|F| | Mutton, leg | 12 | .83 |XXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Pork, | | |PP|FF| | spare rib | 12 | .83 |XXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Pork, | | |P|FFFF| | salt, fat | 14 | .71 |XXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |P|FFF| | Ham, smoked | 16 | .63 |XXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Codfish, | | |PP| | fresh | 8 | 1.25 |XX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Codfish, | | |PPP| | salt | 6 | 1.67 |XXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Oysters, 40 | | |P| | cents quart | 20 | .50 |X| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Milk, 6 cents | | |P|F|C| | quart | 3 | 3.33 |XXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |FFFF| | Butter | 24 | .42 |XXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |PP|FF| | Cheese | 16 | .63 |XXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Eggs, 25 | | |P|F| | cents dozen | 16-3/4| .60 |XXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |PP|F|CCCCCCCCCCCC| | Wheat bread | 4 | 2.50 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |PPP|F|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC| | Wheat flour | 2-1/2| 4.00 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |PPP|FF|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC| | Cornmeal | 2 | 5.00 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |PP|FF|CCCCCCCCCCCCCCC| | Oatmeal | 4 | 2.50 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Beans, white, | | |PPPP|F|CCCCCCCCCCCCCC| | dried | 4 | 2.50 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |P|CCCCCCCCCCCCCC| | Rice | 5 | 2.00 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| Potatoes, 60 | | |P|CCCCCCCCCCCCCC| | cents bushel| 1 |10.00 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| | | |CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC| | Sugar | 5 | 2.00 |XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX| | --------------+-------+------+---------|---------|---------|---------|----| CONTENTS. PAGE. Preface v Suggestions to Teachers ix Composition of Food Materials (_Atwater_) xii Pecuniary Economy of Food (_Atwater_) xiii CHAPTER I. The Relation of Food to the Body 1 CHAPTER II. Food Classification 6 CHAPTER III. Nutrition 10 CHAPTER IV. Food and Economy 12 CHAPTER V. Foods containing Protein or Nitrogenous Matter 22 CHAPTER VI. Fats and Oils 34 CHAPTER VII. Carbohydrate Foods 37 CHAPTER VIII. Fruits 50 CHAPTER IX. Preparing Food 54 RECIPES: Batters, Biscuits and Bread 60 Bread 65 Sauces and Milk Soups 66 Eggs 69 Fruit 72 Vegetables 74 Salads 80 Macaroni 85 Cheese 86 Beverages 87 Soups 89 Fish 94 Meat 96 Poultry 104 Hot Puddings 109 Plain Sauces 115 Pastry 121 Miscellaneous 122 General Hints 126 Suggestions for Young Housekeepers 128 Caring for Invalids 142 General Hints for School Children 150 Suggestions for School Children's Diet 153 Infants' Diet 156 Planning and Serving Meals 170 Consideration of Menus 173 Suggestive Questions 188 Schedule of Lessons for Public School Classes 191 Appendix 193 PUBLIC SCHOOL DOMESTIC SCIENCE CHAPTER I. The Relation of Food to the Body. In order to understand the relation of food to the sustenance and repairing of the body, it will be necessary to learn, first, of what the body is composed, and the corresponding elements contained in the food required to build and keep the body in a healthy condition. The following table gives the approximate analysis of a man weighing 148 pounds:-- Oxygen 92.1 pounds. Hydrogen 14.6 " Carbon 31.6 " Nitrogen 4.6 " Phosphorus 1.4 " Calcium 2.8 " Sulphur 0.24 " Chlorine 0.12 " Sodium 0.12 " Iron 0.02 " Potassium 0.34 " Magnesium 0.04 " Silica ? " Fluorine 0.02 " ------ Total 148.00 pounds. As food contains all these elements, and as there is constant wearing and repair going on in the body, it will be readily seen how necessary some knowledge of the relation of food to the body is, in order to preserve health. Hydrogen and oxygen combined form water, hence we find from the above calculation that about three-fifths of the body is composed of water. Carbon is a solid: diamonds are nearly pure carbon; "lead" of lead pencils, anthracite coal and coke are impure forms of carbon. Carbon combined with other elements in the body makes about one-fifth of the whole weight. Carbon with oxygen will burn. In this way the carbon taken into the body as food, when combined with the oxygen of the inhaled air, yields heat to keep the body warm, and force--muscular strength--for work. The carbonic acid (or carbon dioxide) is given out through the lungs and skin. In the further study of carbonaceous foods, their relation to the body as fuel will be more clearly understood, as carbon is the most important fuel element. Phosphorus is a solid. According to the table, about one pound six ounces would be found in a body weighing 148 pounds. United with oxygen, phosphorus forms what is known as phosphoric acid; this, with lime, makes phosphate of lime, in which form it is found in the bones and teeth; it is found also in the brain and nerves, flesh and blood. Hydrogen is a gas, and like carbon unites with the oxygen of the inhaled air in the body, thus serving as fuel. The water produced is given off in the respiration through the lungs and as perspiration through the skin.[3] Calcium is a metal. The table given allows three pounds of calcium; united with oxygen, calcium forms lime. This with phosphoric acid makes phosphate of lime, the basis of the bones and teeth, in which nearly all the calcium of the body is found. The elements which bear no direct relation to the force production of the body, but which enter into tissue formation, are chlorine, sulphur, iron, sodium, potassium, phosphorus, calcium and magnesium. Bone tissue contains about 50 per cent. of lime phosphate, hence the need of this substance in the food of a growing infant, in order that the bones may become firm and strong. Lack of iron salts in the food impoverishes the coloring matter of the red blood corpuscles on which they depend for their power of carrying oxygen to the tissues; anæmia and other disorders of deficient oxidation result. The lack of sufficient potash salts is a factor in producing scurvy, a condition aggravated by the use of common salt. A diet of salt meat and starches may cause it, with absence of fresh fruit and vegetables. Such illustrations show the need of a well-balanced diet. In order to understand the value of the various classes of food and their relation to the body as force producers, tissue builders, etc., the following table may prove helpful:-- | | C.H. | | Combustibles | Nitrogen. | Calculated as | | Carbon. ---------------------------------------------+-----------+-------------- Beef, uncooked | 3.00 | 11.00 Roast beef | 3.53 | 17.76 Calf's liver | 3.09 | 15.68 Foie-gras | 2.12 | 65.58 Sheep's kidneys | 2.66 | 12.13 Skate | 3.83 | 12.25 Cod, salted | 5.02 | 16.00 Herring, salted | 3.11 | 23.00 Herring, fresh | 1.83 | 21.00 Whiting | 2.41 | 9.00 Mackerel | 3.74 | 19.26 Sole | 1.91 | 12.25 Salmon | 2.09 | 16.00 Carp | 3.49 | 12.10 Oysters | 2.13 | 7.18 Lobster, uncooked | 2.93 | 10.96 Eggs | 1.90 | 13.50 Milk (cows') | 0.66 | 8.00 Cheese (Brie) | 2.93 | 35.00 Cheese (Gruyere) | 5.00 | 38.00 Cheese (Roquefort) | 4.21 | 44.44 Chocolate | 1.52 | 58.00 Wheat (hard Southern, variable average) | 3.00 | 41.00 Wheat (soft Southern, variable average) | 1.81 | 39.00 Flour, white (Paris) | 1.64 | 38.50 Rye flour | 1.75 | 41.00 Winter barley | 1.90 | 40.00 Maize | 1.70 | 44.00 Buckwheat | 2.20 | 42.50 Rice | 1.80 | 41.00 Oatmeal | 1.95 | 44.00 Bread, white (Paris, 30 per cent. water) | 1.08 | 29.50 Bread, brown (soldiers' rations formerly) | 1.07 | 28.00 Bread, brown (soldiers' rations at present) | 1.20 | 30.00 Bread, from flour of hard wheat | 2.20 | 31.00 Potatoes | 0.33 | 11.00 Beans | 4.50 | 42.00 Lentils, dry | 3.87 | 43.00 Peas, dry | 3.66 | 44.00 Carrots | 0.31 | 5.50 Mushrooms | 0.60 | 4.52 Figs, fresh | 0.41 | 15.50 Figs, dry | 0.92 | 34.00 Coffee (infusion of 100 grams) | 1.10 | 9.00 Tea (infusion of 100 grams) | 1.00 | 10.50 Bacon | 1.29 | 71.14 Butter | 0.64 | 83.00 Olive oil | Trace | 98.00 Beer, strong | 0.05 | 4.50 Wine | 0.15 | 4.00 ---------------------------------------------+-----------+-------------- "The hydrogen existing in the compound in excess of what is required to form water with the oxygen present is calculated as carbon. It is only necessary to multiply the nitrogen by 6.5 to obtain the amount of dry proteids in 100 grams of the fresh food substance." (Dujardin-Beauretz.) The following simple rules are given by Parks:--"1st. To obtain the amount of nitrogen in proteid of foods, divide the quantity of food by 6.30. 2nd. To obtain the carbon in fat multiply by 0.79. 3rd. To obtain the carbon in carbohydrate food multiply by 0.444. 4. To obtain the carbon in proteid food multiply by 0.535." Finding that our food and our bodies contain essentially the same elements, we must also bear in mind that the body cannot create anything for itself, neither material nor energy; all must be supplied by the food we eat, which is transformed into repair material for the body. Therefore, the object of a course of study dealing with the science of this question, as it relates to the daily life, should be to learn something of how food builds the body, repairs the waste, yields heat and energy, and to teach the principles of food economy in its relation to health and income. This, with the development of executive ability, is all that can be attempted in a primary course. FOOTNOTE: [3] An illustration of vapor rising may be given by breathing upon a mirror. CHAPTER II. Food Classification. The following are familiar examples of compounds of each of the four principal classes of nutrients: PROTEIN: _Proteids._ _Albuminoids_, _e.g._, albumen of eggs; myosin, the basis of muscle (lean meat); the albuminoids which make up the gluten of wheat, etc. _Gelatinoids_, constituents of connective tissue which yield gelatin and allied substances, _e.g._, collagen of tendon; ossein of bone. "Nitrogenous extractives" of flesh, _i.e._, of meats and fish. These include kreatin and allied compounds, and are the chief ingredients of beef tea and most meat extracts. Amids: this term is frequently applied to the nitrogenous non-albuminoid compounds of vegetable foods and feeding stuffs, among which are amido acids, such as aspartic acid and asparagin. Some of them are more or less allied in chemical constitution to the nitrogenous extractives of flesh. _Fats._ Fat of meat: fat of milk; oil of corn, wheat, etc. The ingredients of the "ether extract" of animal and vegetable foods and feeding stuffs, which it is customary to group together roughly as fats, include, with the true fats, various other substances, as lecithians, and chlorophylls. _Carbohydrates_, sugars, starches, celluloses, gums, woody fibre, etc. _Mineral matter._ Potassium, sodium, calcium and magnesium chlorids, sulphates and phosphates. (Atwater). The terms (_a_) "nitrogenous" and (_b_) "carbonaceous" are frequently used to designate the two distinct classes of food, viz.: (_a_) the tissue builders and flesh formers; (_b_) fuel and force producers. Each of these classes contains food material derived from both the animal and vegetable kingdom, although the majority of the animal substances belong to the nitrogenous, and the majority of the vegetable substances to the carbonaceous group. Therefore, for practical purposes, we will confine ourselves to the more general terms used in Atwater's table. Uses of Food. First, food is used to form the materials of the body and repair its waste; second, to yield energy in the form of (1) heat to keep the body warm, (2) to provide muscular and other power for the work it has to do. In forming the tissues and fluids of the body the food serves for building and repair. In yielding energy, it serves as fuel for heat and power. The principal tissue formers are the albuminoids; these form the frame-work of the body. They build and repair the nitrogenous materials, as those of muscle, tendon and bone, and supply the albuminoids of blood, milk and other fluids. The chief fuel ingredients of food are the carbohydrates and fats. These are either consumed in the body or are stored as fat to be used as occasion demands. Water. By referring to a preceding chapter we find that water composes three-fifths of the entire body. The elasticity of muscles, cartilage, tendons, and even of bones is due in great part to the water which these tissues contain. The amount of water required by a healthy man in twenty-four hours (children in proportion) is on the average between 50 and 60 ounces, beside about 25 ounces taken as an ingredient of solid food, thus making a total of from 75 to 85 ounces. One of the most universal dietetic failings is neglect to take enough water into the system. Dr. Gilman Thompson gives the following uses of water in the body:-- (1) It enters into the chemical composition of the tissues; (2) it forms the chief ingredient of all the fluids of the body and maintains their proper degree of dilution; (3) by moistening various surfaces of the body, such as the mucous and serous membranes, it prevents friction and the uncomfortable symptoms which might result from drying; (4) it furnishes in the blood and lymph a fluid medium by which food may be taken to remote parts of the body and the waste matter removed, thus promoting rapid tissue changes; (5) it serves as a distributer of body heat; (6) it regulates the body temperature by the physical processes of absorption and evaporation. Salts (Mineral Matter).--Use of Salts in Food. (1) To regulate the specific gravity of the blood and other fluids of the body; (2) to preserve the tissues from disorganization and putrefaction; (3) to enter into the composition of the teeth and bones. These are only a few of the uses of salts in the body, but are sufficient for our purpose. Fruits and nuts contain the least quantity of salts, meat ranks next, then vegetables and pulses, cereals contain most of all (Chambers). Sodium chloride (common salt) is the most important and valuable salt. It must not however be used in excess. Potassium salts rank next in importance.[4] Calcium, phosphorus, sulphur and iron are included in this class. The quantity of salts or mineral matter contained in some important articles of vegetable and animal food is shown in this table (Church): _Mineral Matter in 1,000 lbs. of 14 Vegetable Products._ Lbs. Apples 4 Rice 5 Wheaten flour 7 Turnips 8 Potatoes 10 Barley 11 Cabbage 12 Bread 12 Watercress 13 Maize 20 Oatmeal 21 Peas 30 Cocoa nibs 36 Wheaten bran 60 _Mineral Matter in 1,000 lbs. of 8 Animal Products._ Lbs. Fat Pork 5 Cow's milk 7 Eggs (without shells) 13 Lean of mutton 17 Flesh of common fowl 16 Bacon 44 Gloucester cheese 49 Salted herrings 158 "In most seeds and fruits there is much phosphate in the mineral matter, and in most green vegetables much potash. One important kind of mineral matter alone is deficient in vegetable food, and that is common salt." FOOTNOTE: [4] See Vegetables, Chap. VII. CHAPTER III. Nutrition. It is not within the scope of this book to deal with the science of nutrition; but a few general principles may be given which concern the effect upon the system of the different classes of food. Animal food requires a considerable quantity of oxygen for its complete combustion. Meat in general has a more stimulating effect upon the system and is more strengthening than vegetable food. There is, however, a tendency to eat too much meat, and when its effects are not counter-balanced by free outdoor exercise, it causes biliousness and sometimes gout and other troubles. Albuminous foods can be eaten longer alone without exciting loathing than can fats, sugars or starches. A carbonaceous diet taxes the excretory organs less than animal food. Meat is not necessary to life. Nitrogenous food man must have, but it need not be in the form of meat. The estimate commonly given is, that meat should occupy one-fourth and vegetable food three-fourths of a mixed diet, but in many cases the meat eaten is much in excess of this allowance. The proper association of different foods always keeps healthy people in better condition; there are times, however, when it may be necessary to abstain from certain articles of diet. It may be well to bear in mind, that the protein compounds can do the work of the carbohydrates and fats in being consumed for fuel, but the carbohydrates and fats cannot do the work of protein in building and repairing the tissues of the body. As already stated, a mixed diet is the only rational one for man. An exclusively vegetable diet, while it may maintain a condition of health for a time, eventually results in a loss of strength and power to resist disease. Therefore it is necessary to understand the approximate value of each class of food in arranging the daily dietary. CHAPTER IV. Food and Economy. It has been stated that "a quart of milk, three-quarters of a pound of moderately lean beef, and five ounces of wheat flour contain about the same amount of nutritive material;" but we pay different prices for them, and they have different values for nutriment. The milk comes nearest to being a perfect food. It contains all the different kinds of nutritive materials that the body requires. Bread made from wheat flour will support life. It contains all the necessary ingredients for nourishment, but not in the proportion best adapted for ordinary use. A man might live on beef alone, but it would be a very one-sided and imperfect diet. Meat and bread together make the essentials of a healthful diet. In order to give a general idea of food economy, it will be necessary to deal briefly with the functions of the various food principles. As our bodies contain a great deal of muscle, the waste of which is repaired by protein found in such food as lean meat, eggs, cheese, beans, peas, oatmeal, fish, etc., a supply of these articles must be considered in purchasing the daily supply. Fatty tissue (not muscle) serves as fuel, therefore the value of such foods as butter, cream, oils, etc., is apparent. Carbohydrates form fat and serve as fuel and force producers; these come in the form of starches, sugars,--vegetables and grains being the most important. In being themselves burned to yield energy, the nutrients protect each other from being consumed. The protein and fats of body tissue are used like those of foods. An important use of the carbohydrates and fats is to protect protein (muscle, etc.) from consumption. "The most healthful food is that which is best fitted to the wants of the user: the cheapest food is that which furnishes the largest amount of nutriment at the least cost: the best food is that which is both healthful and cheap." By referring to the various charts a fair estimate of food values may be obtained. As will be noticed, the animal foods contain the most protein and fats, while the vegetable foods are rich in carbohydrates. A pound of cheese may have 0.28 pound of protein, as much as a man at ordinary work needs for a day's sustenance, while a pound of milk would have only 0.04, and a pound of potatoes 0.02 pound of protein. The materials which have the most fats and carbohydrates have the highest fuel value. The fuel value of a pound of fat pork may reach 2.995 calories, while that of a pound of salt codfish would be only .315 calories. On the other hand, the nutritive material of the codfish would consist almost entirely of protein, while the pork contains very little. Among the vegetable foods, peas and beans have a high proportion of protein. Oatmeal contains a large proportion also. Potatoes are low in fuel value as well as in protein, because they are three-fourths water. For the same reason milk, which is seven-eights water, ranks low in respect to both protein and fuel value, hence the reason why it is not so valuable as food for an adult as many of the other food materials. These few illustrations will help to show the need of an intelligent idea of food values before attempting to purchase the supplies for family use. As one-half a laboring man's income goes towards providing food, it must follow that such knowledge will help the housewife very materially in securing the best results from the amount expended. The _average daily diet_ of an adult should contain (Church):-- ----------------------------------------------------------------------- NUTRIENTS. | IN 100 PARTS. | EACH 24 HOURS. --------------------------------|-----------------|-------------------- | | lb. oz. gr. Water | 81.5 | 5 8 .320 Albuminoids | 3.9 | 0 4 .178 Fat | 3.0 | 0 3 .337 Common salt | 3.7 | 0 0 .325 Phosphates, potash, salts, etc. | 0.3 | 0 0 0.170 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Quantity of Food Required. The quantity of food required to maintain the body in a vigorous condition depends upon the following conditions:--(1) Climate and season, (2) clothing, (3) occupation, (4) age and sex. In civilized countries more food is eaten, as a rule, than is necessary to maintain health and strength. Climate and seasons influence the quantity of food eaten. A cold, bracing atmosphere stimulates the appetite, tempts one to exercise, while a hot climate has the contrary effect; hence the need for more or less food. Abundant clothing in cold weather conserves the body heat; less food is therefore required to maintain life. Exercise and muscular work cause greater oxidation in the tissues and greater waste of the muscles; this must be replaced by proper food. Outdoor work requires more food than indoor, and physical labor more than mental. It has been estimated "that a child of ten years requires half as much food as a grown woman, and one of fourteen an equal amount. The rapidly growing active boy often eats as much as a man, and the middle-aged man requires more than the aged. A man of seventy years may preserve health on a quantity which would soon starve his grandson." Just what ingredients of the food serve for nourishment of the brain and nerves, and how they do that service, are mysteries which have not yet been solved. Brain and nerve contain the elements nitrogen and phosphorus, which are found in protein compounds but not in the true fats, sugars, and starches, which contain only carbon, hydrogen and oxygen. We naturally infer that the protein compounds must be especially concerned in building up brain and nerve, and keeping them in repair. Just how much food the brain worker needs is a question which has not yet been decided. In general it appears that a man or a woman whose occupation is what we call sedentary, who is without vigorous exercise and does but little hard muscular work, needs much less than the man at hard manual labor, and that the brain worker needs comparatively little of carbohydrates or fats. Many physicians, physiologists and students of hygiene have become convinced that well-to-do people, whose work is mental rather than physical, eat too much; that the diet of people of this class as a whole is one-sided as well as excessive, and that the principal evil is the use of too much fat, starch and sugar. It is well to remember that it is the quantity of food digested which builds the body, and more injury is likely to result from over-eating than from a restricted diet, hence the value of having food cooked so as to aid digestion. The following dietary standards may be interesting to the more advanced pupils, housewives, etc.:-- STANDARDS FOR DAILY DIET OF LABORING MAN AT MODERATE MUSCULAR WORK. ========================+==========+=======+============================ | | | Nutrients in Daily Food. Author. | Protein. | Fats. |---------------+------------ | | | Carbohydrates.| Fuel Value. ------------------------+----------+-------+---------------+------------ | lb. | lb. | lb. | Calories. Playfair, England | .26 | .11 | 1.17 | 3.140 Moleschotte, Italy | .29 | .09 | 1.21 | 3.160 Wolff, Germany | .28 | .08 | 1.19 | 3.030 Voit, Germany | .26 | .12 | 1.10 | 3.055 Atwater, United States | .28 | 17.33 | 88.1.21 | 3.500 ------------------------+----------+-------+---------------+------------ Quality of Food. It is a great mistake to think that the best is the cheapest in regard to the food question, that the higher priced meats, fish, butter, etc., contain special virtues lacking in the cheaper articles. _Poor cooking is the chief cause of this error in judgment._ No doubt a well broiled steak is more appetizing and delicate in flavor than some of the cheaper cuts, but in proportion to the cost is not equal in nutritive value; careful cooking and judicious flavoring render the cheaper pieces of beef equally palatable. That expensive food is not necessary to maintain life has been clearly demonstrated by the traditional diet of the Scotch people with their oatmeal and herring; the Irish, potatoes and buttermilk; New England, codfish and potatoes, and pork and beans; the Chinese, rice, etc. Monotony of diet, however, is not recommended, for reasons given in a previous chapter, and in the countries where a special diet prevails owing to the climate, nature of soil and markets, the results have not warranted us in believing that it is as good as a mixed diet. From this necessarily brief outline of the food question we have learned (1) that a knowledge of the requirements of the body are absolutely necessary in regulating a proper diet; (2) to furnish the food principles in a cheap rather than a dear form; (3) to understand the art of cookery so as to secure the full nutritive value and at the same time stimulate the appetite; (4) the value of economy in regard to food principles. When the housekeeper has acquired this knowledge she will have covered the field of food economy. Prof. Atwater says: "When we know what are the kinds and amount of nutritive substances our bodies need and our food materials contain, then and not till then shall we be able to adjust our diet to the demands of health and purse." Cooking of Food. It is sometimes asked, why do we cook our food? As many opportunities will occur during this course of instruction for a comparison of the customs and diet of the various countries, and the advance of civilization in this direction, we will confine ourselves to the definition of the term as it concerns ourselves. Mr. Atkinson says, that "Cooking is the right application of heat for the conversion of food material." As much of our food requires cooking, how we shall cook it so as to render it more palatable, more digestible, and with the greatest economy of time, fuel and money, is an object deserving the most careful attention. The art of cooking lies in the power to develop certain flavors which are agreeable to the palate, or in other words, which "make the mouth water," without interfering with the nutritive qualities of the food prepared, to understand by what method certain foods may be rendered more digestible, and to provide variety. Monotony of diet and of flavor lessens the appetite and fails to stimulate the digestive organs. The chemical changes, produced by cooking food properly, aid digestion, beside destroying any germs which may be contained in the food. Nearly all foods--except fruit--require cooking. The digestibility of starch depends almost entirely upon the manner in which it is cooked, especially the cereal class. Gastric troubles are sure to follow the use of improperly cooked grains or starches. (See Chap. VII.) Methods. The following are the usual methods observed in cooking, viz.: (1) boiling, (2) stewing, (3) roasting, (4) broiling, (5) frying, (6) braising, (7) baking, (8) steaming. BOILING. Water boils at a temperature of 212° F. Simmering should be at a temperature of from 175° F. to 180° F. When water has reached the boiling point, its temperature cannot be raised, but will be converted into steam; hence the folly of adding fuel to the fire when water has already reached the boiling point. STEWING. Stewing allows the juices of the meat to become dissolved in water heated to the simmering point. The juices thus dissolved are eaten with the meat. If not injured by the addition of rich sauces or fats, this is usually a very digestible method of preparing certain kinds of meat. BROILING. Broiling is cooking directly over the hot coals. A coating of coagulated albumen is formed upon the outer surface. This coating prevents the evaporation of the juices, which with the extractive materials are retained and improve the flavor. Meat cooked in this way has a decided advantage, in both flavor and nutritive value, over that which has been boiled or stewed. There are, however, only certain kinds of meat that are suitable for broiling. FRYING. Frying is cooking in hot fat. The boiling point of fat is far above that of water. Fat should not be heated above 400° F., as it will then turn dark and emit a disagreeable odor. Fried food, unless very carefully prepared, is considered unwholesome. The only proper method for frying is to immerse the food completely in a bath of hot fat. BRAISING. Braising is cooking meat in a covered vessel surrounded by a solution of vegetable and animal juices in a strong but not boiling temperature. Tough meat may be rendered very palatable and nutritious by cooking in this way. The cover of the pan or kettle must fit closely enough to prevent evaporation. It requires long, steady cooking. The flavor is improved by browning the meat in either hot fat or in a very hot oven before braising. BAKING. Baking is cooking in confined heat. Meat properly cooked in an oven is considered by many authorities as quite equal in delicacy of flavor to that roasted before a fire, and is equally digestible. STEAMING. Steaming is cooking food over condensed steam, and is an excellent method for preparing food which requires long, slow cooking. Puddings, cereals, and other glutinous mixtures are often cooked in this way. It is an economical method, and has the advantage of developing flavor without loss of substance. Food Preservation. Food is preserved by the following processes: (1) drying, (2) smoking, (3) salting, (4) freezing, (5) refrigerating, (6) sealing, (7) addition of antiseptic and preservative substances. DRYING. Drying in the sun and before a fire is the usual method employed by housekeepers. Fruits and vegetables, meat and fish may be preserved by drying, the latter with the addition of salt. SMOKING. Smoking is chiefly applied to beef, tongue, bacon, ham, and fish, which are hung in a confined chamber, saturated with wood smoke for a long time until they absorb a certain percentage of antiseptic material, which prevents the fat from becoming rancid, and the albumen from putrefying. Well smoked bacon cut thin and properly cooked is a digestible form of fatty food, especially for tubercular patients. Smoking improves the digestibility of ham. SALTING. Salting is one of the oldest methods of preserving food. The addition of a little saltpetre helps to preserve the color of the meat. Brine is frequently used to temporarily preserve meat and other substances. Corned beef is a popular form of salt preservation. All salted meats require long, slow cooking. They should always be placed in cold water and heated gradually in order to extract the salt. Salt meats are less digestible and not quite so nutritious as fresh meats. FREEZING. Food may be kept in a frozen condition almost indefinitely, but will decompose very quickly when thawed, hence the necessity for cooking immediately. Frozen meat loses 10 per cent. of its nutritive value in cooking. REFRIGERATING. This process does not involve actual freezing, but implies preservation in chambers at a temperature maintained a few degrees above freezing point. This method does not affect the flavor or nutritive value of food so much as freezing. SEALING. Sealing is accomplished not only in the process of canning but by covering with substances which are impermeable. Beef has been preserved for considerable time by immersing in hot fat in which it was allowed to remain after cooling. CHEMICALS. Chemicals are sometimes used in the preservation of food, but the other methods are safer. CHAPTER V. Foods Containing Protein, or Nitrogenous Matter. Animal foods contain nutritive matter in a concentrated form, and being chemically similar to the composition of the body is doubtless the reason why they assimilate more readily than vegetable foods, although the latter are richer in mineral matter. The most valuable animal foods in common use are meat, eggs, milk, fish, gelatin and fats. MEAT. Meat is composed of muscular tissue, connective tissue or gristle, fatty tissue, blood-vessels, nerves, bone, etc. The value of meat as food is due chiefly to the nitrogenous compound it contains, the most valuable being the albuminoids: the gelatinoid of meat is easily changed into gelatin by the action of hot water. Gelatin when combined with the albuminoids and extractives has considerable nutritive value. Extractives are meat bases, or rather meat which has been dissolved by water, such as soup stock and beef tea. The object in cooking meat is to soften and loosen the tissue, which renders it more easily digested. Another object is to sterilize or kill any germs which may exist and to make it more palatable. The digestibility of meat is influenced by the age of the animal killed and the feeding. The following table is given as an average of the digestibility of animal foods:-- TABLE OF COMPARATIVE DIGESTIBILITY. _Commencing with the most digestible and ending with the least digestible of meats and other animal foods._ (Thompson.) Oysters. Soft cooked eggs. Sweetbread. Whitefish, etc. Chicken, boiled or broiled. Lean roast beef or beefsteak. Eggs, scrambled, omelette. Mutton. Bacon. Roast fowl, chicken, turkey, etc. Tripe, brains, liver. Roast lamb. Chops, mutton or lamb. Corn beef. Veal. Duck and other game. Salmon, mackerel, herring. Roast goose. Lobster and crabs. Pork. Fish, smoked, dried, pickled. Cooking affects the digestibility of meat, which is evident from the figures given in the following table (Church):-- TIME OF DIGESTION. --------------------+---------------- | Hours. --------------------+---------------- Beef, raw | 2 Beef, half boiled | 2-1/2 Beef, well boiled | 2-3/4 to 3 Beef, half roasted | 2-3/4 to 3 Beef, well roasted | 2-1/4 to 4 Mutton, raw | 2 Mutton, boiled | 3 Mutton, roasted | 3-1/4 Veal, raw | 2-1/2 Pork, raw | 3 Pork, roasted | 5-1/4 Fowl, boiled | 4 Turkey, boiled | 2-1/2 Venison, broiled | 1-1/2 --------------------+---------------- It may be well to add here that animal food is more digestible when cooked between 160° and 180° F. than at a higher temperature. Cooking of Meat. _(For more general information, see Recipes.)_ In boiling meat two principles must be considered, the softening of the fibre and preserving of the juices. If the meat alone is to be used it should be placed in sufficient boiling water to completely cover, and kept at boiling point (212° F.) for at least ten minutes, so as to harden the albumen and prevent the escape of the juices. The temperature should then be allowed to fall to simmering point (175° F.). If the water is kept boiling it will render the meat tough and dry. If the juice is to be extracted and the broth used, the meat should be placed in cold water; if bones are added they should be cut or broken into small pieces in order that the gelatin may be dissolved. If the water is heated gradually the soluble materials are more easily dissolved. The albumen will rise as a scum to the top, but should not be skimmed off, as it contains the most nutriment and will settle to the bottom as sediment. STEWING. If both meat and broth are to be used the process of cooking should be quite different. In stewing, the meat should be cut into small pieces, put into cold water in order that the juices, flavoring material and fibre may be dissolved. The temperature should be gradually raised to simmering point and remain at that heat for at least three or four hours, the vessel being kept closely covered. Cooked in this way the broth will be rich, and the meat tender and juicy. Any suitable flavoring may be added. This is a good method for cooking meat containing gristle. ROASTING AND BROILING. When the meat alone is to be eaten, either roasting, broiling or frying in deep fat is a more economical method, as the juices are saved. The shrinkage in a roast of meat during cooking is chiefly due to a loss of water. A small roast will require a hotter fire than a larger one, in order to harden the exterior and prevent the juices from escaping. Meat is a poor conductor of heat, consequently a large roast exposed to this intense heat would become burned before the interior could be heated. The large roast should be exposed to intense heat for a few minutes, but the temperature should then be reduced, and long steady cooking allowed. Broiling (see broiling in previous chapter, p. 19.) Varieties of Meat. BEEF TONGUE. Beef tongue is a tender form of meat, but contains too much fat to agree well with people of delicate digestion. VEAL. Veal, when obtained from animals killed too young, is apt to be tough, pale and indigestible, but good veal is considered fairly nutritious. It contains more gelatin than beef, and in broth is considered valuable, especially for the sick. MUTTON. Mutton is considered to be more digestible than beef, that is well fed mutton from sheep at least three years old; but as it is more difficult to obtain tender mutton than beef, the latter is more generally preferred. Mutton broth is wholesome and valuable in sickness. LAMB. Lamb, when tender and of the right age, is quite as digestible as beef or mutton, but the flesh contains too large a proportion of fat. [Illustration: FIG. 1.--Diagram of cuts of beef.] [Illustration: FIG. 2.--Diagram of cuts of veal.] [Illustration: FIG. 3.--Diagram of cuts of pork.] [Illustration: FIG. 4.--Diagram of cuts of mutton.] VENISON. Venison is a tender meat with short fibres, which is very digestible when obtained from young deer, but is considered to be rather too stimulating. Its chemical composition is similar to lean beef. PORK. Pork is a tender-fibred meat, but is very indigestible owing to the high percentage of fat, which is considerably more than the nitrogenous material it contains. Pork ribs may have as much as 42 per cent. of fat. HAM AND BACON. Ham is more digestible when well boiled and eaten cold. Bacon is more easily digested than either ham or pork; when cut thin and cooked quickly--until transparent and crisp--it can often be eaten by dyspeptics, and forms an excellent food for consumptives. FOWL. Chicken is one of the most digestible of meats, contains considerable phosphorus and is particularly valuable as food for invalids. Turkey is somewhat less digestible than chicken. Ducks and geese are difficult of digestion, unless quite young, on account of the fat they contain. GAME. Game, if well cooked, is fairly digestible. SWEETBREAD. Sweetbread, which is thymus gland of the calf, is a delicate and agreeable article of diet, particularly for invalids. Tripe, heart, liver and kidneys are other forms of animal viscera used as food--valuable chiefly as affording variety. FISH. The chief difference in fish is the coarseness of fibre and the quantity of fat present. Fish which are highly flavored and fat, while they may be nutritious, are much less easy of digestion than flounder, sole, whitefish, and the lighter varieties. The following fish contain the largest percentage of albuminoids:--Red snapper, whitefish, brook trout, salmon, bluefish, shad, eels, mackerel, halibut, haddock, lake trout, bass, cod and flounder. The old theory that fish constituted "brain food," on account of the phosphorus it contained, has proved to be entirely without foundation, as in reality many fish contain less of this element than meat. The tribes which live largely on fish are not noted for intellectuality. Fish having white meat when broiled or boiled--not fried--are excellent food for invalids or people of weak digestion. Fish should be well cooked. OYSTERS. Oysters are a nutritious food, and may be eaten either raw or cooked. Lobsters, crabs and shrimps are called "sea scavengers," and unless absolutely fresh are not a desirable food. MILK. Milk contains all the elements which are necessary to maintain life; and constitutes a complete diet for infants. It will sustain life in an adult for several months. Although milk furnishes a useful food, it is not essential to a diet required for active bodily exercise. It is seldom given to athletes while in active training. Adults who are able to eat any kind of food are kept in better health by abstaining from milk, except as used for cooking purposes. An occasional glass of hot milk taken as a stimulant for tired brain and nerves is sometimes beneficial. Milk is composed of water, salts, fat, milk sugar or lactose, albumen and casein. Average milk has from 8 to 10 per cent. of cream. Good milk should form a layer of cream about 2-1/2 in. thick as it stands in a quart bottle. Lactose (milk sugar) is an important ingredient in milk. It is less liable to ferment in the stomach than cane sugar. In the presence of fermenting nitrogenous material it is converted into lactic acid, making the milk sour. Casein is present in milk chiefly in its alkaline form, and in conjunction with calcium phosphate. Milk absorbs germs from the air and from unclean vessels very readily. Good, clean, uncontaminated milk ought to keep fresh, exposed in a clean room at a temperature of 68° F., for 48 hours without souring. If the milk is tainted in any way it will sour in a few hours. Boiled milk will keep fresh half as long again as fresh milk. Milk absorbs odors very quickly, therefore should never be left in a refrigerator with stale cheese, ham, vegetables, etc., unless in an air-tight jar. It should never be left exposed in a sick room or near waste pipes. Absolute cleanliness is necessary for the preservation of milk; vessels in which it is to be kept must be thoroughly scalded with boiling water, not merely washed out with warm water. _Methods of Preserving Milk._ STERILIZED MILK. Milk to be thoroughly sterilized and germ free must be heated to the boiling point (212° F.). This may be done by putting the milk into perfectly clean bottles and placing in a rack, in a kettle of boiling water, remaining until it reaches the necessary degree of heat. The bottle should be closely covered _immediately_ after with absorbent cotton or cotton batting in order to prevent other germs getting into the milk. PASTEURIZED MILK. The difference between pasteurizing and sterilizing is only in the degree of heat to which the milk is subjected. In pasteurizing, the milk is kept at a temperature of 170° F. from 10 to 20 minutes. This is considered a better method for treating milk which is to be given to young children, as it is more easily digested than sterilized milk. All milk should be sterilized or pasteurized in warm weather, especially for children. CHEESE. Cheese is one of the most nutritious of foods, and when meat is scarce makes an excellent substitute, as it contains more protein than meat. Cheese is the separated casein of milk, which includes some of the fats and salts. EGGS. Eggs contain all the ingredients necessary to support life. Out of an egg the entire structure of the bird--bones, nerves, muscles, viscera, and feathers--is developed. The inner portion of the shell is dissolved to furnish phosphate for the bones. The composition of a hen's egg is about as follows (Church):-- ----------------------+------------++---------------------+------------ | White--In || | Yolk--In | 100 parts. || | 100 parts. ----------------------+------------++---------------------+------------ Water | 84.8 || Water | 51.5 Albumen | 12.0 || Casein and albumen | 15.0 Fat, sugar, | || Oil and fat | 30.0 extractives, etc. | 2.0 || Pigment | Mineral matter | 1.2 || extractives, etc. | 2.1 | || Mineral matter | 1.4 ----------------------+------------++---------------------+------------ The albumen--or the "white"--of an egg is greatly altered by cooking. When heated beyond boiling point it becomes a very indigestible substance. Eggs cooked at a temperature of about 170° F., leaving the whites soft, are easily digested. A raw egg is ordinarily digested in 1-1/2 hour, while a baked egg requires from 2 to 3 hours. Eggs _baked_ in puddings, or in any other manner, form one of the most insoluble varieties of albumen. GELATIN. Gelatin is obtained from bones, ligaments, and other connective tissues. In combinations with other foods it has considerable nutritive value. The place given to it by scientists is to save the albumen of the body; as it does not help to form tissue or repair waste it cannot replace albumen entirely. Gelatin will not sustain life, but when used in the form of soup stock, etc., is considered valuable as a stimulant. * * * * * LEGUMES--PEAS, BEANS AND LENTILS. These vegetables contain as much protein as meat; yet, this being inferior in quality to that contained in meat, they can scarcely be given a place in the same class; therefore we will give them an intermediate position in food value between meat and grains. From the standpoint of economy they occupy a high place in nutritive value, especially for outdoor workers. (See Recipes.) CHAPTER VI. Fats and Oils. Fats and oils contain three elements--carbon, oxygen and hydrogen. About one-fifth of the body is composed of fat. Before death results from starvation 90 per cent. of the body fat is consumed. USES OF FAT. (1) To furnish energy for the development of heat; (2) to supply force; (3) to serve as covering and protection in the body; (4) to lubricate the various structures of the body; and (5) to spare the tissues. The fats and oils used as food all serve the same purpose, and come before the carbohydrates in fuel and force value; in combination with proteids, they form valuable foods for those engaged in severe muscular exercise, such as army marching, mining expeditions, etc. Fats and oils are but little changed during digestion. The fat is divided into little globules by the action of the pancreatic juice and other digestive elements, and is absorbed by the system. Fat forms the chief material in adipose tissue, a fatty layer lying beneath the skin, which keeps the warmth in the body, and is re-absorbed into the blood, keeping up heat and activity, and preserving other tissues during abstinence from food. Fat sometimes aids the digestion of starchy foods by preventing them from forming lumpy masses in the mouth and stomach, hence the value of using butter with bread, potatoes, etc. The animal fats are more nutritive than the vegetable, butter and cream heading the list. Cooking fats at a very high temperature, such as frying, causes a reaction or decomposition, which irritates the mucous membrane and interferes with digestion. The principal animal fats are butter, cream, lard, suet, the fat of mutton, pork, bacon, beef, fish and cod liver oil. The vegetable fats and oils chiefly used as food are derived from seeds, olives, and nuts. The most important fats and oils for household purposes are: BUTTER. Butter, which contains from 5 to 10 per cent. of water, 11.7 per cent. fat, 0.5 per cent. casein, 0.5 per cent. milk sugar (Konig). The addition of salt to butter prevents fermentation. Butter will not support life when taken alone, but with other foods is highly nutritious and digestible. CREAM. Cream is one of the most wholesome and agreeable forms of fat. It is an excellent substitute for cod liver oil in tuberculosis. Ice cream when eaten slowly is very nutritious. LARD. Lard is hog fat, separated by melting. SUET. Suet is beef fat surrounding the kidneys. COTTOLENE. Cottolene is a preparation of cotton-seed oil. OLEOMARGARINE. Oleomargarine is a preparation of beef fat provided as a substitute for butter. OLIVE OIL. Olive oil is obtained from the fruit, and is considered to be very wholesome; in some cases being preferred to either cod-liver oil or cream for consumptives. COTTON SEED OIL. Cotton seed oil is frequently substituted for olive oil. NUTS. Nuts contain a good deal of oil. CHAPTER VII. Carbohydrate Foods. The idea of starchy foods is usually connected with such substances as laundry starch, cornstarch, arrow root, etc. These are, of course, more concentrated forms of starch than potatoes, rice, etc. Many starchy foods contain other ingredients, and some are especially rich in proteids. The following table may help to make this clear (Atwater):-- PERCENTAGE OF STARCH IN VEGETABLE FOODS. -----------------+----------- | Per Cent. -----------------+----------- Wheat bread | 55.5 Wheat flour | 75.6 Graham flour | 71.8 Rye flour | 78.7 Buckwheat flour | 77.6 Beans | 57.4 Oatmeal | 68.1 Cornmeal | 71.0 Rice | 79.4 Potatoes | 21.3 Sweet Potatoes | 21.1 Turnips | 6.9 Carrots | 10.1 Cabbage | 6.2 Melons | 2.5 Apples | 14.3 Pears | 16.3 Bananas | 23.3 -----------------+----------- It is estimated that starch composes one-half of peas, beans, wheat, oats and rye, three-fourths of corn and rice, one-fifth of potatoes. Vegetable proteids, as already stated, are less easily digested than those belonging to the animal kingdom, therefore it must be remembered that a purely vegetable diet, even though it may be so arranged as to provide the necessary protein, is apt to over-tax the digestive organs more than a mixed diet from both the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Much depends upon the cooking of the starchy foods in order to render them digestible. (Study chapter on Digestion in the Public School Physiology.) STARCH. The digestion of starch--which is insoluble in cold water--really begins with the cooking, which by softening the outer coating or fibre of the grains, causes them to swell and burst, thereby preparing them for the chemical change which is caused by the action of the saliva in converting the starch into a species of sugar before it enters the stomach. Substances which are insoluble in cold water cannot be absorbed into the blood, therefore are not of any value as food until they have become changed, and made soluble, which overtaxes the digestive organs and causes trouble. The temperature of the saliva is too low to dissolve the starch fibre unaided. Each of the digestive juices has its own work to do, and the saliva acts directly upon the starchy food; hence the importance of thoroughly masticating such food as bread, potatoes, rice, cereals, etc. The action of heat, in baking, which causes the vapor to rise, and forms the crust of starchy food, produces what is called dextrine, or partially digested starch. Dextrine is soluble in cold water, hence the ease with which crust and toast--when properly made--are digested. It is more important to thoroughly chew starchy food than meat, as it is mixed with another digestive juice, which acts upon it in the stomach. Sugars. SUGAR. There are many varieties of sugar in common use, viz.: cane sugar, grape sugar or glucose, and sugar of milk (lactose). As food, sugars have practically the same use as starch; sugar, owing to its solubility, taxes the digestive organs very little. Over-indulgence in sugar, however, tends to cause various disorders of assimilation and nutrition. Sugar is also very fattening, it is a force producer, and can be used with greater safety by those engaged in active muscular work. Cane sugar is the clarified and crystallized juice of the sugar cane. Nearly half the sugar used in the world comes from sugar cane, the other half from beet roots. The latter is not quite so sweet as the cane sugar. Sugar is also made from the sap of the maple tree, but this is considered more of a luxury; consequently, not generally used for cooking purposes. MOLASSES AND TREACLE. Molasses and treacle are formed in the process of crystallizing and refining sugar. Treacle is the waste drained from moulds used in refining sugar, and usually contains more or less dirt. GLUCOSE. Glucose, or grape sugar, is commonly manufactured from starch. It is found in almost all the sweeter varieties of fruit. It is not so desirable for general use as cane sugar. HONEY. Honey is a form of sugar gathered by bees from the nectar of flowering plants, and stored by them in cells. Honey contains water 16.13, fruit sugar 78.74, cane sugar 2.69, nitrogenous matter 1.29, mineral matter 0.12 per cent. (Konig.) Grains. While the grains contain less proteid than the legumes, they are more valuable on account of the variety of the nutrients contained in them, and are more easily adapted to the demands of the appetite. They, however, require long, slow cooking in order to soften the fibre and render the starch more soluble. Among the most important we may place: WHEAT. A wheat kernel may be subdivided into three layers. The first or outer one contains the bran; second, the gluten, fats and salts; third, the starch. Some of the mineral matter for which wheat is so valuable is contained in the bran, hence the value of at least a portion of that part of the wheat being included in bread flour--not by the addition of coarse bran (which is indigestible) to the ordinary flour, but by the refining process employed in producing whole wheat flour. While wheat is used in other forms, its principal use as food is in the form of flour. The following table, giving the composition of bread from wheat and maize, will be of interest (Stone):-- COMPOSITION OF BREAD FROM WHEAT AND MAIZE. -------------------------+-------------------------------------------- | In Air-Dry Material. +------+-----+-----+-------+--------+-------- | | | | | |Nitrogen |Water.| Ash.| Fat.| Fibre.|Protein.| free | | | | | |extract. -------------------------+------+-----+-----+-------+--------+-------- |P.ct. |P.ct.|P.ct.| P.ct. | P.ct. | P.ct. Bread from whole winter | | | | | | wheat | 3.07 | 2.33| 1.22| 2.86 | 15.70 | 74.82 Bread from whole spring | | | | | | wheat | 7.46 | 1.69| 1.24| 2.80 | 15.26 | 71.55 Bread from fine flour, | | | | | | winter wheat |10.39 | .59| .32| .44 | 11.94 | 76.32 Bread from fine flour, | | | | | | spring wheat | 8.00 | .43| .47| .39 | 14.41 | 76.30 Corn bread from whole | | | | | | maize | 3.40 | 1.88| 4.14| 2.53 | 12.88 | 75.17 -------------------------+------+-----+-----+-------+--------+-------- -------------------------+------------------------------------------ | In Dry Matter +------+------+--------+---------+--------- | | | | | Nitrogen | Ash. | Fat. | Fibre. | Protein.| free | | | | | extract. -------------------------+------+------+--------+---------+--------- |P.ct. |P.ct. | P.ct. | P.ct. | P.ct. Bread from whole winter | | | | | wheat | 2.40 | 1.25 | 2.95 | 16.20 | 77.20 Bread from whole spring | | | | | wheat | 1.82 | 1.34 | 3.02 | 16.49 | 77.33 Bread from fine flour, | | | | | winter wheat | .66 | .35 | .49 | 13.33 | 85.17 Bread from fine flour, | | | | | spring wheat | .47 | .51 | .42 | 15.66 | 82.94 Corn bread from whole | | | | | maize | 1.95 | 4.29 | 2.62 | 13.33 | 77.81 -------------------------+------+------+--------+---------+--------- BREAD. The most valuable food product manufactured from flour is bread. Bread contains so many of the ingredients required to nourish the body, viz.: fat, proteid, salts, sugar and starch, that it may well be termed the "staff of life." As it does not contain enough fat for a perfect food the addition of butter to it renders it more valuable as an article of diet. Mrs. Ellen H. Richards gives the following explanation of what constitutes ideal bread: "(1) It should retain as much as possible of the nutritive principles of the grain from which it is made; (2) it should be prepared in such a manner as to secure the complete assimilation of these nutritive principles; (3) it should be light and porous, so as to allow the digestive juices to penetrate it quickly and thoroughly; (4) it should be nearly or quite free from coarse bran, which causes too rapid muscular action to allow of complete digestion. This effect is also produced when the bread is sour." Bread is made from a combination of flour, liquid (either milk or water), and a vegetable ferment called yeast (see yeast recipes). The yeast acts slowly or rapidly according to the temperature to which it is exposed. The starch has to be changed by the ferment called diastase (diastase is a vegetable ferment which converts starchy foods into a soluble material called maltose) into sugar, and the sugar into alcohol and carbonic acid gas (carbon dioxide), when it makes itself known by the bubbles which appear and the gradual swelling of the whole mass. It is the effect of the carbonic acid gas upon the gluten, which, when checked at the proper time before the ferment becomes acetic (sour) by baking, produces the sweet, wholesome bread which is the pride of all good housekeepers. The kneading of bread is to break up the gas bubbles into small portions in order that there may be no large holes and the fermentation be equal throughout. The loaf is baked in order to kill the ferment, to render the starch soluble, to expand the carbonic acid gas and drive off the alcohol, to stiffen the gluten and to form a crust which shall have a pleasant flavor. Much of the indigestibility of bread is owing to the imperfect baking; unless the interior of the loaf has reached the sterilizing point, 212° F., the bacteria contained in the yeast will not be killed, and some of the gas will remain in the centre of the loaf. The scientific method of baking bread is to fix the air cells as quickly as possible at first. This can be done better by baking the bread in small loaves in separate pans, thereby securing a uniform heat and more crust, which is considered to be the most easily digested part of the bread. Some cooks consider that long, slow baking produces a more desirable flavor and renders bread more digestible. One hundred pounds of flour will make an average of one hundred and thirty-five pounds of bread. This increase of weight is due to the addition of water. MACARONI. Macaroni is a flour preparation of great food value. It contains about six per cent. more gluten than bread, and is regarded by Sir Henry Thompson as equal to meat for flesh-forming purposes. Dieticians say that macaroni, spaghetti and vermicelli are not used so extensively as their value deserves. BUCKWHEAT. Buckwheat is the least important of the cereals. RYE. Rye is almost equal to wheat in nutritive value. Its treatment in regard to bread making is similar to that of wheat. CORN. Corn contains fat, proteid and starch, and produces heat and energy. It is very fattening, and when eaten as a vegetable is considered difficult of digestion. Cornmeal is a wholesome food; it contains more fat than wheat flour, and less mineral matter. RICE. Rice constitutes a staple food of a great many of the world's inhabitants. It contains more starch than any other cereal, but when properly cooked is very easily digested. It should be combined with some animal food, as it contains too little nitrogen to satisfy the demands of the system. It forms a wholesome combination with fruit, such as apples, peaches, prunes, berries, etc. BARLEY. Barley is almost equal to wheat in nutritive value. It contains more fat, mineral matter and cellulose (cellulose is often called indigestible fibre, as it resists the solvent action of the digestive juices, and is of no value as a nutrient), and less proteid and digestible carbohydrates. OATMEAL. Oatmeal is one of the most valuable foods. Oats contain fat, proteid, salts and cellulose, in addition to a large percentage of starch. The nutritive value of oatmeal is great, but much depends upon the manner of cooking. (See recipes.) People who eat much oatmeal should lead a vigorous outdoor life. The following analysis of oatmeal is given (Letheby):-- Nitrogenous matter 12.6 per cent. Carbohydrates, starch, etc. 63.8 " Fatty matter 5.6 " Mineral matter 3.0 " Water 15.0 " ---- Total 100.0 Vegetables. Legumes--peas, beans and lentils--have an exceedingly leathery envelope when old; and unless soaked for a long time in cold water--in order to soften the woody fibre--and are then cooked slowly for some hours, are very indigestible. Pea and bean soups are considered very nutritious. Lentils grow in France; they are dried and split, in which form they are used in soups. POTATOES. Potatoes are the most popular of all the tubers. As an article of diet they possess little nutritive value, being about three-fourths water. They contain some mineral matter, hence the reason why they are better boiled and baked in their skins, so as to prevent the escape of the salts into the water. Potatoes are more easily digested when baked than cooked in any other form. BEETS. Beets contain between 85 and 90 per cent. of starch and sugar, some salts, and a little over one per cent. of proteid matter. Young beets, either in the form of a vegetable or a salad, are considered to be very wholesome. CARROTS, TURNIPS, PARSNIPS, OYSTER PLANT. Carrots, turnips, parsnips and oyster plant, although containing a large percentage of water, are considered valuable as nutrients, the turnip being the least nutritious. GREEN VEGETABLES. Green vegetables do not contain much nutriment, and are chiefly valuable as affording a pleasing variety in diet; also for supplying mineral matter and some acids. In this class we may include cabbage, cauliflower, spinach, lettuce and celery. TOMATOES. Tomatoes are wholesome vegetables; on account of the oxalic acid they contain they do not always agree with people of delicate digestion. CUCUMBERS. Cucumbers are neither wholesome nor digestible. ASPARAGUS. Asparagus is a much prized vegetable. The substance called asparagin which it contains is supposed to possess some value. RHUBARB. Rhubarb is a wholesome vegetable. ONIONS, GARLIC, SHALLOTS. Onions, garlic, and shallots are valuable both as condiments and eaten separately. They contain more nutrients than the last vegetables considered. CHAPTER VIII. Fruits. Fruits are composed largely of water, with starches, a vegetable jelly, pectin, cellulose and organic acids. The most important acids in fruit are citric, malic and tartaric. Citric acid is found in lemons, limes and oranges; tartaric acid in grapes; malic acid in apples, pears, peaches, apricots, gooseberries and currants. Among the least acid are peaches, sweet apples, bananas and prunes. Strawberries are moderately acid, while lemons and currants contain the most acid of all. Uses of Fruit. (1) To furnish nutriment; (2) to convey water to the system and relieve thirst; (3) to introduce various mineral matter (salts) and acids which improve the quality of the blood; (4) as anti-scorbutics; (5) as laxatives and cathartics; (6) to stimulate the appetite, improve digestion and provide variety in the diet. Apples, lemons and oranges are especially valuable for the potash salts, lime and magnesia they contain. Fruit as a common article of daily diet is highly beneficial, and should be used freely in season. Cooked fruit is more easily digested than raw, and when over-ripe should always be cooked in order to prevent fruit poisoning. NUTS. Nuts contain proteid, with some starch and sugar, but are not considered valuable as nutrients. Cocoanuts, almonds and English walnuts are the most nutritious. Beverages. TEA. Tannin is an astringent of vegetable origin which exists in tea, is also found in coffee and wines, and is very injurious. Tea is a preparation made from the leaves of a shrub called Thea. The difference between black and green tea is due to the mode of preparation, and not to separate species of plant. Green tea contains more tannin than black. The following table will show the difference:-- =======================+===================+=================== | GREEN TEA. | BLACK TEA. -----------------------+-------------------+------------------- Crude protein | 37.43 | 38.90 Fibre | 10.06 | 10.07 Ash (mineral matter) | 4.92 | 4.93 Theine | 3.20 | 3.30 Tannin | 10.64 | 4.89 Total nitrogen | 5.99 | 6.22 -----------------------+-------------------+------------------- The stimulating properties which tea possesses, as well as its color and flavor, depend upon the season of the year at which the leaves are gathered, the variety of the plant, the age of the leaves, which become tough as they grow older, and the care exercised in their preparation. Much depends upon the manner in which tea is infused. (1) Use freshly boiled water; (2) allow it to infuse only three or four minutes, in order to avoid extracting the tannin. When carefully prepared as above, tea is not considered unwholesome for people in good health. COFFEE. Coffee is made from the berries of coffee-arabica, which are dried, roasted and browned. The following table gives an approximate idea of the composition of coffee beans (Konig):-- Water 1.15 Fat 14.48 Crude fibre 19.89 Ash (mineral matter) 4.75 Caffeine 1.24 Albuminoids 13.98 Other nitrogenous matter 45.09 Sugar, gum and dextrin 1.66 Coffee is frequently adulterated with chicory, which is harmless. Coffee should not be allowed to boil long or stand in the coffee pot over a fire, as the tannin is extracted, which renders it more indigestible. Much controversy has been indulged in over the effect of coffee upon the system, but like many other similar questions it has not reached a practical solution. The general opinion seems to be that when properly made and used in moderation it is a valuable stimulant and not harmful to adults. COCOA. Cocoa and chocolate contain more food substances than tea or coffee, although their use in this respect is not of much value. The following table gives the analysis of cocoa (Stutzer):-- Theobromine 1.73 Total nitrogenous substance 19.28 Fat 30.51 Water 3.83 Ash (mineral matter) 8.30 Fibre and non-nitrogenous extract 37.48 ALCOHOL. The use of alcohol is wholly unnecessary for the health of the human organism. (See Public School Physiology and Temperance.) Condiments. Condiments and spices are used as food adjuncts; they supply little nourishment, the effect being mainly stimulating, and are very injurious when used in excess. They add flavor to food and relieve monotony of diet. The use of such condiments as pepper, curry, pickles, vinegar and mustard, if abused, is decidedly harmful. Salt is the only necessary condiment, for reasons given in the chapter on mineral matter. The blending of flavors so as to make food more palatable without being injured is one of the fine arts in cookery. Some flavors, such as lemon juice, vinegar, etc., increase the solvent properties of the gastric juice, making certain foods more digestible. CHAPTER IX. Preparing Food. The knowledge of food values and their relation to the body will be of little use for practical purposes unless combined with the knowledge of how the various foods should be prepared, either by cooking or in whatever form circumstances and the material may require. The first requisite for cooking purposes is heat; this necessitates the use of fuel. The fuels chiefly used for household purposes are wood, coal, kerosene oil and gas. Soft woods, such as pine or birch, are best for kindling and for a quick fire. Hard woods, oak, ash, etc., burn more slowly, retain the heat longer, and are better adapted for cooking purposes. COAL. Coal (anthracite) is about 95 per cent. carbon. It kindles slowly, gives a steady heat, and burns for a longer time without attention than wood. Stoves for burning oil and gas have become popular, and are very convenient and satisfactory for cooking purposes. OIL. Oil is considered to be the cheapest fuel. GAS. Gas is a very satisfactory fuel for cooking purposes, but can only be used in certain localities. Making and Care of a Fire. CARE OF A FIRE. Great care should be exercised in the selection of a stove or range. The plainer the range the easier it will be to keep it clean. There should be plenty of dampers that can be used to hasten the fire or to check it. Learn thoroughly the management of the range before beginning to cook. In lighting a fire, remove the covers, brush the soot from the top of the oven into the fire-box; clean out the grate (saving all the unburned coal, and cinders). Put in shavings or paper, then kindling arranged crosswise, allowing plenty of air space between the pieces, a little hard wood and a single layer of coal. Put on the covers, open the direct draft and oven damper, then light the paper. When the wood is thoroughly kindled and the first layer of coal heated, fill the fire-box with coal even with the top of the oven. When the blue flame becomes white, close the oven damper, and when the coal is burning freely, shut the direct draft. When coal becomes bright red all through it has lost most of its heat. A great deal of coal is wasted by filling the fire-box too full and leaving the drafts open till the coal is red. To keep a steady fire it is better to add a little coal often rather than to add a large quantity and allow it to burn out. Never allow dust or cinders to accumulate around a range, either inside or out. Learn to open and shut the oven door quietly and quickly. Study the amount of fire required to heat the oven to the desired temperature. Learn which is the hotter or cooler side of the oven, and move the article which is being baked as required, being very careful to move it gently. Measurements. Accurate measurement is necessary to insure success in cooking. As there is such a diversity of opinion as to what constitutes a heaping spoonful, all the measurements given in this book will be by level spoonfuls. A cupful is all the cup will hold without running over, and the cup is one holding 1/2 pint. The following table may be used where scales are not convenient:-- 4 cups of flour = 1 pound or 1 quart. 2 cups of solid butter = 1 " 1/2 cup butter = 1/4 " 2 cups granulated sugar = 1 " 2-1/2 cups powdered sugar = 1 " 3 cups meal = 1 " 1 pint of milk or water = 1 " 1 pint chopped meat, packed solidly = 1 " 9 large eggs, 10 medium eggs = 1 " 2 level tablespoonfuls butter = 1 ounce. 4 " " " = 2 ounces or 1/4 cup. Butter the size of an egg = 2 " " " 2 level tablespoonfuls sugar = 1 " 4 " " flour = 1 " 4 " " coffee = 1 " 4 " " powdered sugar = 1 " Table of Abbreviations. Saltspoon ssp. Tablespoon tbsp. Pint pt. Gallon gal. Teaspoon tsp. Cupful cf. Quart qt. Peck pk. A speck (spk.) is what you can put on a quarter inch square surface. Time-table for Cooking. BAKING BREAD, CAKES AND PUDDINGS. Loaf bread 40 to 60 m. Graham gems 25 to 30 m. Sponge cake 45 to 60 m. Cookies 10 to 15 m. Rice and tapioca 1 hr. Custards 15 to 20 m. Pastry (thin puff) 10 to 15 m. Pie crust 25 to 30 m. Baked beans 6 to 8 hrs. Scalloped dishes 15 to 20 m. Rolls, biscuit 10 to 20 m. Gingerbread 25 to 30 m. Fruit cake 2 to 3 hrs. Bread pudding 1 hr. Indian pudding 2 to 3 hrs. Steamed pudding 1 to 3 hrs. Pastry (thick) 30 to 50 m. Potatoes 30 to 45 m. Braised meat 3 to 4 hrs. BAKING MEATS. Beef, sirloin, rare, per lb. 8 to 10 m. Beef, well done, per lb. 12 to 15 m. Beef, rolled rib or rump, per lb. 12 to 15 m. Beef, fillet, per lb. 20 to 30 m. Mutton, rare, per lb. 10 m. Mutton, well done, per lb. 15 m. Lamb, well done, per lb. 15 m. Veal, well done, per lb. 20 m. Pork, well done, per lb. 30 m. Turkey, 10 lbs. weight 2-1/2 hrs. Chicken, 3 to 4 lbs. weight 1 to 1-1/2 hr. Goose, 8 lbs. 2 hrs. Tame duck 1 to 1-1/2 hr. Game 40 to 60 m. Grouse 30 to 40 m. Small birds 20 to 25 m. Venison, per lb. 15 m. Fish, 6 to 8 lbs. 1 hr. Fish, small 30 to 40 m. VEGETABLES (BOILING). Rice, green corn, peas, tomatoes, asparagus (hard boiled eggs) 20 to 25 m. Potatoes, macaroni, squash, celery, spinach 25 to 30 m. Young beets, carrots, turnips, onions, parsnips, cauliflower 30 to 45 m. Young cabbage, string beans, shell beans, oyster plant 45 to 60 m. Winter vegetables, oatmeal, hominy and wheat 1 to 2 hrs. FRYING (DEEP). Smelts, croquettes, fish balls 1 to 2 m. Muffins, fritters, doughnuts 4 to 6 m. Fish, breaded chops 5 to 7 m. BROILING. Steak, 1 inch thick 6 to 8 m. Steak, 1-1/2 inch thick 8 to 10 m. Fish, small 6 to 8 m. Fish, thick 12 to 15 m. Chops 8 to 10 m. Chicken 20 m. Table of Proportions. 1 qt. of liquid to 3 qts. of flour for bread. 1 qt. of liquid to 2 qts. of flour for muffins. 1 qt. of liquid to 1 qt. of flour for batters. 1 cup of yeast (1 yeast cake) to 1 qt. of liquid. 1 tsp. of soda (level), 3 of cream tartar to 1 qt. of flour. 1 tsp. of soda to 1 pt. of sour milk. 1 tsp. of soda to 1 cup of molasses. 4 tsps. of baking powder to 1 qt. of flour. 1 tsp. of salt to 1 qt. of soup stock. 1 ssp. of salt to 1 loaf of cake. 1 tbsp. of each vegetable, chopped, to 1 qt. of stock. 1-1/2 tbsp. of flour to 1 qt. of stock for thickening soup. 1 tbsp. of flour to 1 pt. of stock for sauces. 1 tsp. of salt to 1 pt. of stock for sauces. 4 tbsps. (level) cornstarch to 1 pt. of milk (to mould). 1 tsp. of salt to 2 qts. of flour for biscuits, etc. Methods for Flour Mixtures. STIRRING. Stirring is simply blending two or more materials by moving the spoon round and round until smooth and of the proper consistency. BEATING. Beating is bringing the spoon up through the mixture with a quick movement so as to entangle as much air as possible. CUTTING OR FOLDING. Cutting or folding is adding the beaten white of egg to a mixture without breaking the air bubbles, by lifting and turning the mixture over and over as in folding. Do not stir or beat. * * * * * RECIPES. * * * * * BATTERS, BISCUITS AND BREAD. POPOVERS. 2 cups of flour. 3 eggs. 2 cups of milk. 1/2 tsp. salt. Beat the eggs (without separating) until very light, then add the milk and salt; pour this mixture on the flour (slowly), beating all the while. Beat until smooth and light, about five minutes. Grease gem pans or small cups, and bake in a moderately hot oven about thirty-five minutes. They should increase to four times their original size. (This recipe may be divided for class work.) PANCAKES. 1 pint of flour. 1 tbsp. of melted butter. 1 pint of milk. 2 eggs. 2 tsps. baking powder. 1/2 tsp. salt. Beat the whites and yolks of the eggs separately; add the yolks to the milk, then the melted butter; salt. Sift the baking powder and flour together, add slowly to the liquid, stir until smooth. Lastly, add the whites of the eggs. These may be cooked in waffle irons or on a griddle. PANCAKES WITH BUTTERMILK. 1 pint of buttermilk. Flour to make a medium batter. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1/2 tsp. soda. Crush the soda, add it and the salt to the buttermilk, add the flour gradually, beat until the batter is smooth, and bake on a hot griddle. An egg may be added. CORNMEAL GRIDDLE CAKES. 1 pint of Indian meal. 1 cup of flour. 1 tsp. salt. 3 eggs. 4 (l.) tsps. baking powder. 1 pint of milk. Put the meal into a bowl, and pour over it just enough boiling water to scald it; do not make it soft; let stand until cool. Then add the milk; beat the eggs until very light, add them to the batter, add the flour and salt in which the baking powder has been sifted. Mix well, beat vigorously for a minute or two, and bake on a hot griddle. BREAD GRIDDLE CAKES. 1 pt. of milk. 1/2 tsp. of salt. 1/2 tsp. of soda and 1 tsp. cream tartar. 3 (l.) tsps. baking powder. 1/2 pt. stale bread crumbs. 2 eggs. Flour to make a thin batter. Soak the bread in the milk for one hour, then beat it smooth. Beat the eggs separately till very light, add first the yolks, then the flour and salt and baking powder. Beat again, add the whites, and bake quickly on a hot griddle. BUCKWHEAT CAKES. 1 pt. boiling water. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1/2 cup white flour. 1 ssp. soda. 1/2 cup corn or Graham meal. 1/4 yeast cake. 1 cup buckwheat flour. Pour the boiling water on the corn or Graham meal, add the salt, and when lukewarm add the flour, beat until smooth, then add the yeast. Let it rise over night. In the morning add the soda just before baking (milk may be used instead of water). A tablespoonful of molasses is sometimes added in order to make the cakes a darker brown. FRITTERS. Beat two eggs together until light, add to them 1 cup of milk, 1/2 tsp. salt and sufficient flour to make a batter that will drop from the spoon. Beat until smooth. Have ready a deep pan of hot fat; add 3 (l.) tsps. of baking powder to the batter, mix thoroughly and drop by spoonfuls into the hot fat. When brown on one side turn and brown on the other; take out with a skimmer and serve very hot. Do not pierce with a fork as it allows the steam to escape and makes the fritter heavy. GEMS--WHOLE WHEAT OR GRAHAM GEMS. 2 cups of whole wheat flour. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 tbsp. sugar. 2 eggs, beaten separately. 1 cup milk. 1 cup water. Mix flour, salt and sugar. Beat the eggs until light, add the milk and water, stir this into the dry mixture. Bake in hot gem pans for 30 minutes. CORN MUFFINS. 1 cup cornmeal. 1 cup flour. 1-1/4 cups milk. 2 tbsps. butter. 2 tbsps. sugar. 1/2 tsp. salt. 2-1/2 tsps. baking powder. 1 egg. Mix all the dry ingredients together. Melt the butter in a hot cup. Beat the egg till light. Add the milk to it and turn this mixture into the bowl containing the dry ingredients. Add the melted butter and beat vigorously and quickly. Pour into buttered muffin or gem pans, and bake for one-half hour in a moderate oven. QUICK MUFFINS OR GEMS. 1 pt. of milk. 1 oz. butter. 3 cups of flour. 4 tsps. baking powder. 1 tsp. salt. 3 eggs. Beat the eggs separately till light, add the yolks to the milk, then the flour, which must be more or less, according to the quality. The batter must be thin and pour from the spoon. Now add the melted butter and salt; give the whole a vigorous beating. Now add the baking powder and the well beaten whites, stir till thoroughly mixed. Bake in muffin rings in a quick oven or on the griddle. TEA BISCUIT. 1 pt. of flour. 1 cup milk. 2-1/2 tsps. baking powder. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 tbsp. lard or butter. 1/2 tsp. sugar. Mix thoroughly in a sieve the flour, sugar, salt and baking powder, and rub through the sieve. Rub the butter or lard into this mixture. Now add the milk, stirring quickly with a strong spoon. Sprinkle the board with flour, turn out the dough upon it. Roll to the thickness of about 1/2 inch, cut with a small cutter. Bake in a quick oven. Do not crowd the biscuit in the pan. They should bake from 10 to 15 minutes. (All biscuit doughs should be mixed as soft as it is possible to handle. Sour milk may be used in this recipe by substituting soda for the baking powder.) HOT CORN BREAD. 1 qt. of cornmeal. 1 tsp. of salt. 1 pt. sour milk or buttermilk. 1 oz. of butter. 2 eggs. 1 tsp. of soda. Put the cornmeal in a large bowl and pour over it just enough boiling water to scald it through. Let it stand until cold, then add the eggs well beaten, the milk or buttermilk, salt, and butter (melted); beat thoroughly. Dissolve the soda in two tbsps. of boiling water, stir into the mixture, turn quickly into a greased square, shallow pan, put into a hot oven and bake 40 minutes. SHORTCAKES. (_Suitable for strawberries or any sweetened fruit._) 1 pint flour. 1 cup sweet or sour milk. 1/4 cup butter. 2-1/2 tsps. baking powder, or 1/2 tsp. soda and 1 tsp. cream tartar. 1/2 tsp. salt. Mix the salt, soda, cream tartar or baking powder with the flour, sift; rub in the butter until fine like meal. Add the liquid gradually, mixing with a knife, and use just enough to make it of a light spongy consistency. Turn the dough out on a well floured board, pat lightly into a flat cake and roll gently till half inch thick. Bake either in a spider or pie plate in the oven; split, butter, and spread with the fruit. DOUGHNUTS. 1 egg 1 tbsp. melted butter. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 tsp. cream tartar. Flour enough to make into a soft dough. 1/2 cup sugar. 1 cup milk. 1/2 tsp. soda. 1 ssp. cinnamon. Mix all the dry ingredients, beat the egg until light, add to this the milk, sugar and melted butter. Pour into the flour, mixing carefully into a soft dough. Have the board well floured. Roll only a large spoonful at a time. Cut into the desired shape and drop into hot fat. The fat should be hot enough for the dough to rise to the top instantly. * * * * * BREAD. As bread is one of the most important articles of the daily diet, it naturally follows that special attention should be given to a subject upon which the health of the family, to a great extent, depends. A knowledge of the chemical changes and their effect (see Chap. VII) must be understood before proficiency in bread-making can be attained. The first element to consider is the _yeast_, and the generating of carbonic acid gas, so as to have the bread light, tender, and porous. Yeast is a plant or vegetable growth produced from grain which has commenced to bud or sprout, and which forms the substance called diastase. This substance has the power to convert starch into sugar. (See Chap. VII for effect of yeast upon flour.) The temperature at which fermentation takes place, and when to check it, are important features of bread-making. The liquid (milk or water) should be tepid when mixed, as too great heat destroys the growth of the yeast. The dough should rise in a temperature of 75°. After fermentation has become active the temperature may be gradually lowered--as in setting bread over night--without injury. Avoid a cold draft or sudden change of temperature, as it checks fermentation and affects the flavor. Never allow bread to rise until it "settles," or runs over the side of the bowl. The usual rule is to let it rise until it is double in bulk, both in the bowl and after it is put into the pans. If it is not convenient to bake the bread when ready, it may be kneaded again and kept in a cool place, to prevent souring. Bread should be mixed in a stone or granite bowl. The only necessary ingredients for bread are water, flour, salt, and yeast. Sugar may be added to restore the natural sweetness of the flour which has been lost during fermentation, but it is not necessary. If milk is used, and the bread well kneaded, no other shortening is required; but with water, the addition of a little butter or dripping makes the bread more tender, therefore it is more easily penetrated by the digestive fluids. Tough, leathery bread is not easily digested, no matter how light it may be. As already stated, by the action of heat the ferment is killed, the starch-grains ruptured, the gas carried off, and the crust formed. In order that bread may be thoroughly cooked, and plenty of crust formed, each loaf should be baked in a pan about 4 inches deep, 4 to 6 inches wide, and from 8 to 12 inches long. Smaller loaves are even more desirable. It is very difficult to bake a large loaf so as to insure the escape of all the carbonic acid gas, and to cook the starch sufficiently without injuring the crust, besides entailing an unnecessary waste of fuel. The custom of baking several loaves together in one large pan is contrary to all scientific rules of bread-making. The oven should be hot enough to brown a spoonful of flour in five minutes, for bread. The dough should rise during the first fifteen minutes, then begin to brown; keep the heat steady for the next fifteen or twenty minutes, then decrease it. If the oven is too hot a hard crust will form and prevent the dough from rising, which will not only cause the bread to be heavy, but will prevent the gas from escaping. If, on the other hand, the oven is not hot enough, the bread will go on rising until it becomes sour. A loaf, the size already mentioned, should take from fifty-five to sixty minutes to bake, and should give a hollow sound, if tapped, when removed from the oven. Better take too long than not long enough, as doughy bread is most objectionable and unwholesome. If the crust is beginning to burn, cover the loaf with brown paper, and reduce the heat, but have a brown crust, not a whity-brown, which is usually hard and without flavor. Upon removing the loaves from the pans, place them on a rack, where the air may circulate freely. Never leave warm bread on a pine table, or where it will absorb odors. BREAD MADE WITH WATER. 2 quarts flour. 1 tbsp. sugar. 1 pint lukewarm water. 1 tsp. salt. 1 tbsp. butter, dripping or lard. 1/2 cake compressed yeast, dissolved in 1/2 cup water. (This recipe is for Manitoba flour. A little more fine flour would be necessary.) Sift the flour. Put the salt, sugar and butter into a large bowl, pour on the warm water, stir until they are dissolved. Add the flour gradually until it forms a thin batter, then add the yeast; beat vigorously for at least five minutes. Add more flour until the dough is stiff enough to knead. Turn out on the board and knead for half hour. Cover and let rise until double its bulk. Form into separate loaves, put into the pans, cover, and let rise again till double its bulk. Bake in a hot oven about an hour. (Milk or half milk may be substituted in this recipe.) BREAD (WITH A SPONGE). 1 tbsp. butter. 1 tbsp. sugar. 1/2 cup yeast or 1/2 yeast cake. 1 tsp. salt. 1 pt. water. About 2 qts. flour. Put the butter, sugar and salt in the mixing bowl, add 1/4 cup boiling water to dissolve them; then add enough lukewarm water to make a pint, 3 cups of flour, then the yeast (if the cake is used dissolve in 1/4 cup tepid water). Give it a vigorous beating, cover, and let it rise over night. In the morning add flour to make it stiff enough to knead. Knead for 1/2 hour. Cover closely, let it rise till it doubles its bulk; shape into loaves; let it rise again in the pans; bake as directed in previous recipe. WHOLE WHEAT OR GRAHAM BREAD. 1 pt. milk, scalded and cooled. 1 tsp. salt. 2 cups white flour. 2 tbsps. sugar. 5 or 6 cups whole wheat flour. 1/2 yeast cake or 1/2 cup yeast. Mix in the same order as given in previous recipes. Whole wheat flour makes a softer dough, consequently does not require so much kneading, otherwise it should be treated the same as other bread, allowing it a little longer time for baking; if too moist, a cupful of white flour may be added. YEAST. Steep 1/2 cup of loose hops in 1 quart of boiling water, in a granite kettle, 5 minutes. Mix 1 cup of flour, 1/4 of a cup sugar and 1 tbsp. salt. Strain the hop liquor and pour it boiling into the flour mixture. Boil 1 minute, or till thick. When cooled add 1 cup of yeast. Cover and set in a warm place until foamy, which will be in 4 or 5 hours. Pour into stone jars, which should be not more than half full, and keep in a cool place. (Three boiled potatoes may be mashed smoothly and added to this yeast if desired.) * * * * * SAUCES AND MILK SOUPS. WHITE SAUCE. (_For Vegetables, Eggs, etc._) 1 pt. milk. 4 (l.) tbsps. flour. 1/2 ssp. white pepper. 2 tbsps. butter. 1/2 tsp. salt. Heat the milk over hot water. Put the butter in a granite saucepan and stir till it melts, being careful not to brown. Add the dry flour, and stir quickly till well mixed. Add the milk gradually, stirring carefully (especially from the sides) until perfectly smooth. Let it boil until it thickens, then add salt and pepper. In using this sauce for creamed oysters, add 1/2 tsp. of celery salt, a few grains of cayenne pepper, and a tsp. of lemon juice. DRAWN BUTTER SAUCE. 1 pt. hot water or stock. 1/2 cup butter. 1/2 ssp. pepper. 4 (l.) tbsps. flour. 1/2 tsp. salt. Put the butter in the saucepan; when melted add the dry flour, and mix well. Add the hot water or stock a little at a time, and stir rapidly till it thickens; when smooth add the salt and pepper. Be careful to have all sauces free from lumps. (Hard boiled eggs may be added to this sauce for baked or boiled fish. Two tbsps. of chopped parsley may be added if parsley sauce is desired.) BROWN SAUCE. 1 pt. hot stock. 2 tbsps. butter. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 tbsp. lemon juice. 2 tbsps. minced onions. 4 tbsps. flour. 1/2 ssp. pepper. Caramel enough to color. Mince the onion and fry it in the butter 5 minutes. Be careful not to burn it. When the butter is browned add the dry flour, and stir well. Add the hot stock a little at a time; stir rapidly until it thickens and is perfectly smooth. Add the salt and pepper. Simmer 5 minutes, and strain to remove the onion. CARAMEL FOR COLORING SOUPS AND SAUCES. Melt 1 cup of sugar with 1 tbsp. of water in a frying-pan. Stir until it becomes of a dark brown color. Add 1 cup of boiling water, simmer 10 minutes, and bottle when cool. This coloring is useful for many purposes, and is more wholesome than browned butter. MOCK BISQUE SOUP. 1 pt. stewed tomatoes. 2 tbsps. flour. 1/2 tsp. soda. 1 tsp. salt. 1 pt. milk. 2 tbsps. butter. 1/4 tsp. pepper. Reserve 1/2 cup of the milk, put the remainder on to cook in a stew-pan. Mix the flour with the cold milk, and stir into the boiling milk. Cook for 10 minutes, then add the salt, pepper and butter. Stir the soda into the hot tomatoes and stir 1/2 minute, then rub through a strainer. Add the strained tomatoes to the thickened milk, and serve at once. POTATO SOUP. 4 potatoes, medium size. 2 tbsps. minced celery. 2 tbsps. of flour. 1/4 tsp. of pepper. 1/2 tsp. minced parsley. 1-1/2 pints of milk. 4 tbsps. minced onions. 1 tsp. of salt. 1 tbsp. of butter. Pare the potatoes, place on the fire in enough boiling water to cover, and cook for 30 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup milk, put the remainder in the double boiler with the onion and celery and place on the fire. Mix the cold milk with the flour and stir into the boiling milk. When the potatoes are cooked pour off the water, mash them until fine and light. Gradually beat into them the milk; now add salt, pepper and butter, and rub the soup through a sieve. Return to the fire and add the minced parsley; simmer for 5 minutes and serve immediately. (The parsley may be omitted and celery salt substituted for the minced celery.) CELERY SOUP. 1 head celery. 1 pint milk. 1 tbsp. butter. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 pint water. 1 tbsp. chopped onion. 2 tbsps. flour. 1/2 ssp. pepper. Wash and scrape the celery, cut into 1/2 inch pieces, put it into the pint of boiling salted water and cook until very soft. Mash in the water in which it was boiled. Cook the onion with the milk in a double boiler 10 minutes and add it to the celery. Rub all through a strainer and put on to boil again. Melt the butter in a saucepan, stir in the flour and cook until smooth, but not brown, then stir it into the boiling soup. Add the salt and pepper; simmer 5 minutes and strain into the tureen. Serve very hot. * * * * * EGGS. While eggs are nutritious and valuable as food they should not be used too freely, as they are a highly concentrated form of food. The albumen (white) of egg is one of the most valuable tissue builders. Much depends upon the manner in which they are cooked. Eggs fried in fat or hard boiled are very indigestible. Do not use an egg until it has been laid some hours, as the white does not become thick till then and cannot be beaten stiff. Eggs should be kept in a cool dark place, and handled carefully in order to avoid mixing the white and yolk, which causes the egg to spoil quickly. BOILED EGGS. Have the water boiling in a saucepan. Put in the eggs and move to the back of the stove where the water will keep hot, about 175 or 180 F., for from 8 to 10 minutes. If the back of the stove is too hot, move to the hearth. The white should be of a soft, jelly-like consistency, the yolks soft but not liquid. An egg to be cooked soft should never be cooked in boiling water. HARD BOILED EGGS. Cook eggs for 20 minutes in water just below the boiling point. The yolk of an egg cooked 10 minutes is tough and indigestible; 20 minutes will make it dry and mealy, when it is more easily penetrated by the gastric fluid. POACHED EGGS. Have a clean, shallow pan nearly full of salted and boiling water. Remove the scum and let the water just simmer. Break each egg carefully into a saucer and slip it gently into the water. Dip the water over it with the end of the spoon, and when a film has formed over the yolk and the white is like a soft jelly, take up with a skimmer and place on a piece of neatly trimmed toast. This is the most wholesome way of cooking eggs for serving with ham or bacon. OMELET. Beat the yolks of two eggs, add two tbsps. of milk, 1 ssp. of salt and 1/4 of a ssp. of pepper. Beat the whites till stiff and dry. Cut and fold them into the yolks till just covered. Have a clean, smooth omelet pan (or spider). When hot, rub well with a teaspoonful of butter; see that the butter is all over the pan, turn in the omelet and spread evenly on the pan. Cook until slightly browned underneath, being careful not to let it burn; set in a hot oven until dry on top. When dry throughout, run a knife round the edge, tip the pan to one side, fold the omelet and turn out on a hot platter. This may be made by beating the whites and yolks together for a plain omelet. A little chopped parsley, a little fine grated onion, a tbsp. or two of chopped ham, veal or chicken may be spread on the omelet before folding. CUP CUSTARDS. 1 pt. of milk. 1/4 cup of sugar. 2 eggs. 1/2 ssp. grated nutmeg. Beat the eggs until light, then add the sugar; beat again, add the milk and nutmeg, stir until the sugar is dissolved. Pour into custard cups, stand the cups in a pan of boiling water and then put the pan in the oven. Bake until the custards are set, or until a knife may be slipped into the centre without anything adhering to it. When done, take them out of the water and stand away to cool. (This custard may be poured into a baking dish and baked in a quick oven until firm in the centre.) BOILED CUSTARD. 1 pt. of milk. 2 tbsps. sugar. 2 eggs. 1/2 tsp. vanilla. Put the milk on in the double boiler, beat the sugar and yolks of eggs together until light, then stir them into the boiling milk; stir until it begins to thicken, then take it from the fire; add the vanilla and stand aside to cool. When cool, pour into a glass dish. Beat the whites until stiff, add three tbsps. of powdered sugar gradually. Heap them on a dinner plate and stand in the oven a moment until slightly brown, then loosen from the plate, slip off gently on top of the custard; serve very cold. * * * * * FRUIT. If people would only realize the value of fruit in its natural state, much of the time devoted to the preparation of pies, puddings, etc., would be saved. All uncooked fruit should be thoroughly ripe and served fresh and cold. Sometimes fruit is more easily digested when the woody fibre has been softened by cooking than when in its natural state, therefore a few simple recipes for cooking fruit are given. APPLESAUCE. Pare, core and quarter 6 or 8 tart apples. Make a syrup with 1/2 cup of sugar, 1/2 cup of water, and a little grated lemon peel. When boiling, add the apples and cook carefully till they are just tender, but not broken. Remove them carefully, boil the syrup down a little and pour it over the apples. (For serving with roast goose, etc., cook the apples in a little water, mash until smooth, add sugar to taste.) CODDLED APPLES. Pare tart apples of uniform size; remove the cores without breaking the apples. Stand them in the bottom of a granite kettle, sprinkle thickly with sugar, cover the bottom of the kettle with boiling water, cover closely and allow the apples to steam on the back part of the stove till tender. Lift carefully without breaking, pour the syrup over them and stand away to cool (delicious served with whipped cream). STEWED PRUNES. Wash carefully and soak in water an hour before cooking, put them into a porcelain or granite kettle, cover with boiling water and let them simmer until tender. Add a tbsp. of sugar for each pint of prunes, and boil a few moments longer. CRANBERRIES. Put 1 pint of cranberries in a granite saucepan, 1 cup of sugar, 1 cup of water. After they begin to boil cook 10 minutes, closely covered. (This may be pressed through a sieve while hot, removing the skins, if desired for a mould.) STEWED RHUBARB. Wash the rhubarb (if young and tender it will not be necessary to remove the skin), cut into pieces about 1 inch long. To every lb. of rhubarb allow 1 lb. of sugar. Put the rhubarb into a porcelain or granite kettle, cover with the sugar, and stand on the back part of the fire until the sugar melts. Move forward, let simmer for a few minutes without stirring, turn it out carefully to cool. BAKED PEARS. Take large, sweet pears, wipe them but do not remove the stems. Stand them in an earthen baking dish, pour around them a cup of boiling water, add 2 tbsps. sugar, cover with another dish and bake slowly until the pears are tender, basting occasionally with the liquor. When done, stand away to cool in the dish in which they were baked. When cold put them into a glass dish, pour the liquor over them and serve. BAKED APPLES. Pare and core, without breaking, tart apples. Put them into a shallow earthen dish, fill the cavities with sugar, add water to cover the bottom of the dish. Bake in a quick oven till soft, basting often with the syrup. (Quinces may be baked in the same way.) * * * * * VEGETABLES. Vegetables should be used very freely, as they contain saline substances which counteract the effect of too much meat, and are the chief source of mineral supply for the body. In cooking vegetables, a common rule is to add salt, while cooking, to all classes growing above ground (including onions), and to omit salt in the cooking of vegetables growing underground. In cooking vegetables care must be taken to preserve the flavor, and to prevent the waste of mineral matter. CABBAGE. Cut a small head of cabbage in quarters, soak in cold water 1 hour, drain and shake dry. Remove the stalk, or hard part, and chop the remainder rather fine. Put it into a stew-pan with enough boiling water to cover, and boil 20 minutes. Drain in a colander. Turn into a hot dish, and pour over it cream sauce or a little melted butter, pepper and salt. CAULIFLOWER. Pick off the outside leaves, soak in cold salted water, top downwards, for 1 hour. Tie it round with a piece of twine to prevent breaking. Cook in boiling salted water until tender, remove the string, turn into a hot dish with the top up, cover with cream sauce or drawn butter sauce. (When cold, it may be picked to pieces and served in a salad.) CELERY. Scrape clean and cut the stalks into 2-inch pieces: cook in salted water until tender, drain and cover with a white sauce. The sauce should be made with the water in which the celery has been stewed. BOILED BEETS. Wash, but do not cut them, as that injures the color. Cook in boiling water until tender. When cooked put them into a pan of cold water and rub off the skins. They may be cut in slices and served hot with pepper, butter and salt, or sliced, covered with vinegar, and served cold. They may be cut into dice and served as a salad, either alone or mixed with potatoes and other vegetables. BEANS (DRIED). Lima beans should be soaked in warm water over night. In the morning drain off this water and cover with fresh warm water. Two hours before needed drain, cover with boiling water and boil 30 minutes; drain again, cover with fresh boiling water, and boil until tender. Add a teaspoonful of salt while they are boiling. When cooked drain them, add a little butter, pepper and salt, or a cream sauce. ASPARAGUS. Wash the asparagus well in cold water, reject the tough parts, tie in a bunch or cut into pieces 1 inch long. Put it in a kettle, cover with boiling water, and boil until tender. Put it in a colander to drain. Serve with melted butter, pepper and salt, or with a cream or drawn butter sauce. ONIONS. Scald in boiling water, then remove the skins. Put them in boiling salted water; when they have boiled 10 minutes, change the water. Boil until tender but not until broken. Drain and serve with either cream sauce or butter, pepper and salt. POTATOES. Wash and scrub with a brush. If old, soak in cold water after paring. Put them in boiling water, when about half cooked add a tbsp. of salt. Cook until soft but not broken. Drain carefully. Expose the potatoes for a minute to a current of air, then cover and place on the back of the stove to keep hot, allowing the steam to escape. RICE POTATOES. Press the cooked potatoes through a coarse strainer into the dish in which they are to be served. MASHED POTATOES. To 1 pint of hot boiled potatoes, add 1 tbsp. butter, 1/2 tsp. of salt, 1/2 ssp. of white pepper and hot milk or cream to moisten. Mash in the kettle in which they were boiled, beat with a fork until they are light and creamy. Turn lightly into a dish. POTATO PUFFS. Prepare as for mashed potatoes, adding a little chopped parsley or celery salt if the flavor is liked. Beat 2 eggs, yolks and whites separately. Stir the beaten whites in carefully, shape into smooth balls or cones, brush lightly with the beaten yolks, and bake in a moderately hot oven until brown. CREAMED POTATOES. Cut cold boiled potatoes into thin slices. Put them in a shallow pan, cover with milk and cook until the potatoes have absorbed nearly all the milk. To 1 pint of potatoes, add 1 tbsp. of butter, 1/2 tsp. of salt, 1/2 ssp. of pepper and a little chopped parsley or onion. BAKED POTATOES. Select smooth potatoes of uniform size, wash and scrub well. Bake in a hot oven about 45 minutes or until soft. Break the skin or puncture with a fork to let the steam escape and serve at once. This is the most wholesome method of cooking potatoes, as the mineral matter is retained. FRIED POTATOES. Pare, wash and cut into slices or quarters. Soak in cold salted water, drain and dry between towels. Have sufficient fat in a kettle to more than cover the potatoes. When it is very hot drop the potatoes in, a few at a time, so as not to reduce the heat of the fat too quickly. When brown, which should be in about 4 or 5 minutes for quarters and about 2 minutes if sliced, drain and sprinkle with salt. TOMATOES (RAW). Scald and peel sometime before using, place on ice, and serve with salt, sugar and vinegar, or with a salad dressing. SCALLOPED TOMATOES. Scald and peel as many tomatoes as required. Butter a deep dish and sprinkle with fine bread or cracker crumbs, then a layer of sliced tomato, over this sprinkle a little salt, pepper and sugar; then add a layer of bread crumbs, another of tomatoes, sprinkle again with salt, pepper and sugar: put bread crumbs on the top, moisten with a little melted butter, and bake until brown. STEWED TOMATOES. Pour boiling water over the tomatoes, remove the skins and the hard green stem, cut into quarters or slices and stew in a granite kettle until the pulp is soft, add salt, pepper, butter and a little sugar if desired. If too thin the tomato may be thickened with crumbs or cornstarch wet in a little cold water. SPINACH. Pick over carefully, discarding all decayed leaves. Wash thoroughly, then place in a pan of cold water, let stand for a few minutes. Drain and put in a large kettle with just enough water to keep it from burning. Cook very slowly until tender. Drain and chop fine, add 1 tbsp. of butter, a tsp. of salt, a ssp. of pepper. It may be served on toast (hot) or garnished with hard boiled eggs. CARROTS AND TURNIPS. Carrots as a vegetable for the table are more palatable when young and tender. They should be washed and scraped, boiled until tender, and served with butter, pepper and salt or a white sauce. Turnips contain little nutriment; having no starch, they are very suitable for eating with potatoes. They require more salt than any other vegetable, and should be served with fat meat, corned beef, roast pork or mutton. Turnips should be washed, pared, cut into slices or strips, boiled until tender. Drain, mash and season with pepper and salt. PEAS (GREEN). Wash the pods, which should be green, crisp and plump, before shelling, then the peas will not require washing. Put the peas into a strainer or colander and shake out all the fine particles. Boil until tender. When nearly done add the salt. Use little water in cooking, when they may be served without draining; season with a little butter, pepper and salt. If drained, serve either dry with butter, pepper and salt, or with a white sauce. GREEN SWEET CORN. Remove the husk and silky fibre, cover with boiling water (the flavor is improved by adding a few of the clean inner husks) and cook, if young and tender, from 10 to 15 minutes. Try a kernel and take up the corn as soon as the milk has thickened and the raw taste is destroyed. * * * * * SALADS. FRENCH DRESSING. 3 tbsps. of olive oil. 1/4 tsp. of salt. 1 tbsp. vinegar. 1/2 ssp. of pepper or speck of cayenne. Mix these ingredients together and serve. This makes a particularly good dressing for lettuce or vegetable salads. SALAD DRESSING. 1/2 cup vinegar. 1 tbsp. sugar. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1/2 cup cream. 2 eggs. 1/2 tsp. mustard. A speck of cayenne pepper. Beat the eggs well, mix the sugar, salt, mustard and pepper together, add to the beaten eggs, then add the vinegar. Place the saucepan on the range in a pan of boiling water. Stir constantly until the dressing becomes thick and light. Take from the fire and turn into a cold bowl at once to prevent curdling. Beat the cream to a thick froth and stir it into the cold dressing. (When cream is not available use the same quantity of milk, previously thickened to the consistency of cream with a little cornstarch, add a tsp. of butter; when cold, add to the dressing.) MAYONNAISE DRESSING. 1/2 pt. of olive oil. 1 tsp. mustard. 1/2 tsp. salt. Yolks of 2 uncooked eggs. 1 tbsp. lemon juice. 1 tbsp. vinegar. 1/2 tsp. sugar. A speck of cayenne. Put the yolks of the eggs into a cold bowl, stir in the dry ingredients, beat well, using a silver or small wooden spoon. Then add the oil, drop by drop. When the mixture gets so thick that it is difficult to stir, add a few drops of the vinegar to thin it. Continue stirring in the oil and vinegar alternately until all are used, when it should be very thick; add the lemon juice last and beat for a few minutes longer; a cupful of whipped cream may be stirred into this dressing before using. (The following rules must be observed in order to insure success: (1) to beat the yolks and dry ingredients until thick; (2) to add the oil only in drops at first; (3) always beat or stir in one direction, reversing the motion is apt to curdle the dressing.) LETTUCE SALAD. Choose crisp, fresh lettuce, wash clean, let it remain for a little time in cold or ice water, drain thoroughly, break or tear the leaves into convenient pieces, dress with a French or cooked dressing; serve at once, cold. POTATO SALAD. 1 pt. cold boiled potatoes. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1/2 cup cooked dressing. Or the French dressing, as given. 1 tsp. finely chopped onion. 1 sp. pepper. Cut the potatoes into pieces about the size of dice, mix the seasonings with the potatoes, turn into a dish in alternate layers of potatoes and dressing, having a little dressing on top. Garnish with parsley, and allow to stand at least an hour in a cold place before serving, so that the potatoes may absorb the seasoning. (Cold boiled beets cut into cubes may be added in alternate layers with the potatoes in this recipe, using a little more dressing.) TOMATO SALAD. Peel the tomatoes (without scalding) and put them on ice until very cold, have crisp leaves of lettuce which have been washed and dried. When ready to serve, cut the tomatoes in halves, place one-half on a leaf of lettuce (the curly leaves being the best), on this put a tbsp. of mayonnaise or cooked dressing, and serve immediately. CABBAGE SALAD. Cabbage or celery may be used as a salad by cutting rather fine, allowing it to get cold and crisp, and serving with a cooked or French dressing. Indeed almost any vegetable may be used for a salad. String beans, asparagus, cauliflower, which have been cooked, are suitable for salad, either alone or in combination with nasturtium, cress, hard boiled eggs, etc. CHICKEN SALAD. One pint each of cold boiled or roasted chicken and celery. Cut the chicken into 1/4-inch dice, scrape, wash and cut the celery into dice, put the celery in a napkin and lay on the ice for 10 or 12 minutes; season the chicken with vinegar, salt, pepper and oil (or the French dressing-oil may be omitted if the flavor is not agreeable, substituting cream or melted butter). Add the celery to the seasoned chicken, add half the dressing (using either a cooked or mayonnaise), heap in a dish, add the remainder of the dressing, garnish with the tiny bleached celery leaves or small curly lettuce leaves. (A few capers and a hard boiled egg may be used as a garnish if desired.) In summer the chicken may be served on a tender lettuce leaf, adding a spoonful of dressing, and serving very cold. FRUIT SALAD. 4 oranges. 1 cup water. 1/4 package gelatine. 4 bananas. Juice of 2 lemons. 1-1/2 cup sugar. Dissolve the gelatine in the water, add the sugar and lemon juice, strain and pour over the oranges and bananas, which have been peeled and sliced and placed in alternate layers in a mould. Set away to cool. When needed, turn out and serve. Garnish with Malaga grapes, cherries, currants, or any suitable fruit. * * * * * CEREALS. All cereals require thorough cooking, because of the starch in them, also to soften the woody fibre. No matter what the cereal product may be, it should be cooked not less than three-quarters of an hour, and better if cooked longer. OATMEAL PORRIDGE. 1 pt. of boiling water. 1/2 cup of oatmeal. 1/2 tsp. salt. Be sure to have the water boiling. Sprinkle in the oatmeal slowly, stirring all the time. Add the salt, and move back or set in a vessel of boiling water where it will cook gently for 1 hour. Do not stir the porridge after the first 5 minutes. All porridge (or mush) is made on the same principle. CRACKED WHEAT Should be cooked at least 4 or 5 hours. CORNMEAL Should be cooked an hour or more. RICE. Wash 1 cup of rice. Have 2 quarts of water, with 1 tbsp. salt, boiling rapidly. Sprinkle in the rice gradually, when you have it all in cover the kettle and boil 20 minutes. If too thick add a little boiling water. Test the grains, and the moment they are soft, and before the starch begins to cloud the water, pour into a colander to drain. Stand it in the oven a few minutes to dry, leaving the door open. Turn carefully into a heated dish and serve without a cover. (Do not stir the rice while cooking.) RICE CROQUETTES. 1 pint of milk. 4 (l.) tbsps. of sugar. 1/2 cup raisins. 1/2 cup of rice. 1/2 tsp. vanilla. Yolks of two eggs. Wash the rice and put it into the boiling milk in a double boiler. Cook until very thick; add the yolks of the eggs and the sugar, beat thoroughly. Take from the fire, add the vanilla and the fruit, which has been well floured. Turn out on a dish to cool, when cold form in pyramids or cylinders; dip first in beaten egg, then in fine bread crumbs and fry in deep, boiling fat. Put a little jelly on the top of each croquette, dust the whole with powdered sugar, and serve with vanilla sauce or cream and sugar. BAKED RICE. Wash 1/2 cup of rice, turn into a buttered pudding dish, add 2 tbsps. sugar, grate 1/4 of a small nutmeg, add 1 qt. of milk, bake slowly for at least 1-1/2 hour. FARINA. 1 pint of milk. 3 level tbsps. of farina. Put the milk in the double boiler, when the milk boils add the salt, then sprinkle in the farina, stirring all the while; beat the mixture well and cook for 30 minutes. Serve with cream and sugar. (This may be made into a pudding by adding an egg, 2 tbsps. sugar, 1/2 tsp. vanilla, baking in the oven until brown.) * * * * * MACARONI. Macaroni is quite as valuable as bread for food, and should be used very freely. BOILED MACARONI. Break the macaroni in pieces about 2 inches long. Have boiling water, add a tsp. of salt; throw in the macaroni and boil rapidly 30 minutes, put it into a colander to drain, return to the kettle, rub a tbsp. of butter and flour together until smooth, add either milk or water until the sauce is as thick as rich cream. Cook it a few minutes before pouring over the macaroni, and serve (add salt to taste). MACARONI WITH TOMATO SAUCE. 1/4 lb. macaroni. 1 tbsp. butter. Salt and pepper to taste. 1 tbsp. flour. 1 cup stewed tomatoes. Hold the long sticks of macaroni in the hand; put the end into boiling salted water, as it softens bend and coil in the water without breaking. Boil rapidly 20 minutes. When done put it in a colander to drain. Put the butter in a saucepan to melt, add to it the flour, mix until smooth, then add the tomatoes (which have been strained), stir carefully until it boils. Pour over the hot macaroni and serve at once. MACARONI AND CHEESE. 1/4 lb. of macaroni. 1/4 lb. grated cheese. Salt and white pepper to taste. 1/2 pt. milk. 1 tsp. butter. Break the macaroni in pieces about 3 inches long. Put it into plenty of boiling water. Add 1 tsp. salt and boil rapidly 25 minutes; drain, throw into cold water to blanch for 10 minutes. Put the milk into the double boiler, add to it the butter, then the macaroni which has been drained, and cheese; stir until heated, add the salt and pepper, and serve. (The macaroni may be placed in a baking dish in alternate layers with the cheese, sprinkling each layer with pepper and salt, pouring the milk over the top, cutting the butter in small bits distributed over the top, and bake until brown in a moderately quick oven.) * * * * * CHEESE. CHEESE SOUFFLE. 1/4 lb. of cheese. 1 ssp. of soda. A speck of cayenne. 2 tbsps. flour. 1/2 cup of milk. 1 tsp. mustard. 2 eggs. 2 tbsps. butter. Put the butter in a saucepan, when melted stir in the flour, add the milk slowly, then the salt, mustard and cayenne, which have been mixed together. Add the yolks of the eggs which have been well beaten, then the grated cheese; stir all together, lift from the fire and set away to cool. When cold, add the stiff beaten whites, turn into a buttered dish and bake 25 or 30 minutes. Serve immediately. WELSH RAREBIT. 1/4 lb. cheese. 1 tsp. mustard. A speck of cayenne. 1 tsp. butter. 1/4 cup cream or milk. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 egg. Grate the cheese, put it with the milk in the double boiler. While this is heating, make some toast. Mix the mustard, salt and pepper, add the egg and beat well. When the cheese has melted, stir in the egg and butter, and cook about two minutes, or until it thickens a little, but do not let it curdle. Pour it over the hot toast and serve at once. * * * * * BEVERAGES. TEA. In making tea, the following rules should be observed. The water should be freshly boiled. The teapot, which should be of earthen or china (never of tin), should be scalded and heated before putting in the tea. Pour on the boiling water and cover closely, and let stand for 3 or 4 minutes before using. Never, under any circumstances, allow tea to boil. The usual proportion is a small teaspoonful of tea to 1 cup of boiling water, but this is too strong for general use. COFFEE. Coffee may be made in various ways; by filtering, clarifying with an egg, or made with cold water. A common rule for making coffee is as follows: 1 heaping tbsp. ground coffee to 2 cups of freshly boiling water, 1 egg shell. Scald the coffee-pot, put in the coffee and the egg shell, add the boiling water, cover and boil just 3 minutes. Before serving, add a tbsp. of cold water; let stand for a few minutes before using. COFFEE MADE WITH AN EGG. 1 egg is sufficient to clear 1 cup of ground coffee; if a smaller quantity be desired, half the egg may be used. Add 1/2 cup cold water to the portion of egg to be used, and 1/2 cup of ground coffee. Beat well, put it in the coffee-pot, add 1 qt. of boiling water, and boil 3 minutes. Move back where it will keep hot, but not boil, for 10 minutes. Pour out a little and pour it back again to clear the spout before serving. COCOA. 1 pt. of milk. 3 tbsps. of water. 2 (l.) tsps. of cocoa. Put the milk in the double boiler and set on the fire, mix the cocoa to a smooth paste with the cold water. When the milk boils, add the cocoa and boil for 1 minute. Serve very hot. If more water and less milk be used, allow a little more cocoa. * * * * * SOUPS. Soups may be divided into two classes, soup made with stock, and with milk. As soup should form part of the regular daily diet, and may be made from the cheaper materials, it is absolutely necessary that every housekeeper should understand the art of making it properly. In the first place it is well to know what may be used in the process of soup making. The first and most important step is to prepare the stock. For this purpose have a large earthen bowl or "catch all," as some teachers call it. Into this put all the bones, trimmings, bits of steak or chop and gravy which has been left over. Keep in a cold place. When needed, cover with cold water and simmer 4 or 5 hours; strain and set away to cool. When cold, remove the fat which will have formed a solid coating on the top. The stock is now ready for use. By saving the remains of vegetables cooked for the table, the outer stocks of celery, a hard boiled egg, etc., a very palatable and nutritious soup may be made at a trifling cost. In families where large quantities of meat are used, there should be sufficient material without buying meat for soup. It is not necessary to have all the ingredients mentioned in some recipes in order to secure satisfactory results. It will, however, be necessary to understand soup flavorings, so as to know which ones may be left out. Stock made from the shin of beef, or from the cheaper pieces which contain the coarser fibre and gristle, require long, slow cooking (see Methods). Never soak meat in water before cooking in any form. Wipe carefully with a damp cloth before cutting or preparing for use. For soup break or saw the bones into small pieces, and for each pound of meat and bone allow 1 qt. of cold water. Cover the kettle closely and let it heat slowly until it reaches the simmering point, when it should be moved back and kept at that degree for several hours. Soup should never be allowed to boil hard. The scum which rises to the surface is the albumen and juices of the meat, and should not be skimmed off. If the kettle is clean, and all impurities removed from the meat, there will not be anything objectionable in the scum. Stock must always be allowed to remain until cold, so that the fat may be removed before using. A strong, greasy soup is rarely relished, and is one of the principal reasons why so many people dislike this valuable article of diet. Do not add salt to the meat which is being prepared for stock until a few minutes before removing from the fire. Salt hardens the water if added at first and makes the tissues more difficult to dissolve. Stock may be kept for several days by occasionally bringing it to the boiling point. This is not necessary in winter if it is kept in a cold place. VEGETABLE SOUP. 1 qt. stock. 1/2 cup each chopped turnip and cabbage. 1 tsp. sugar. 1 ssp. pepper. 1/2 cup each of onion, carrot, celery (chopped). 1-1/2 tsp. salt. If all these vegetables are not available, a little macaroni, rice or barley may be added. Chop all the vegetables very fine, cabbage or onions should be parboiled 5 minutes, drain carefully. Put all the vegetables together, cover with 1 qt. of water and simmer until tender, then add the stock, the seasoning, and allow it to simmer about 10 minutes. Serve without straining. TOMATO SOUP. 1 pt. of canned or stewed tomatoes. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 tsp. sugar. 1 tbsp. butter. 2 whole cloves or 1/2 bay leaf. 1 pt. of stock. 1/2 ssp. pepper. 1 tbsp. minced onion. 1 tbsp. flour or cornstarch. A speck of cayenne may be added if desired. Put the tomato and stock in a saucepan and set on the fire. Cook the vegetables in the butter for 15 minutes; then press out the butter and put the vegetables in the soup. Into the butter remaining in the pan put the flour and stir until smooth, then add to the soup. Allow all to simmer for 20 minutes; strain and serve. SPLIT PEA SOUP. 1 pt. of split peas. 1-1/2 qt. of boiling water. 1 qt. of stock. Salt and pepper to taste. Wash the peas in cold water (rejecting those which float) and soak them over night. In the morning drain the water off and cover them again with 1 qt. of the boiling water. Boil until tender, about 1-1/2 hour. Now add the stock and 1 pt. of the boiling water. Press the whole through a sieve; wash the soup kettle, return the soup, boil up once, add salt and pepper and serve with croutons. Dried pea soup may be made in exactly the same manner, using 1 pt. of dried peas instead of the split ones. ONION SOUP. 1 large Spanish onion. 1 qt. stock. 1 tbsp. flour. 2 tbsps. butter. Salt and pepper to taste. Peel and chop the onion. Put the butter in a frying-pan, add the onion, and stir until a nice brown. Put the stock on to boil. Skim the onions out of the butter and add them to the stock. Stir 1 tbsp. of flour into the remaining butter, thin with a little of the stock, put all together, and simmer for 20 minutes. Add salt and pepper, and it is ready to serve. MACARONI SOUP. 1 qt. clear soup. 1 tsp. salt. 5 sticks macaroni. Break the macaroni into small pieces and throw it into 1 quart of boiling water containing the tsp. of salt. Let it boil uncovered 25 minutes. Drain off the water and add the macaroni to the hot stock, cover and cook slowly for 10 or 15 minutes. A little more seasoning may be added if desired. OYSTER SOUP. 1 pt. oysters. 1/2 pt. cold water. 1/4 tsp. pepper. Salt to taste. 1 pt. milk. 2 (l.) tbsps. flour. 2 tbsps. butter. Put a strainer over a bowl and turn the oysters into it. Pour the water over the oysters and stir with a spoon until all the liquid has passed through the strainer. Reserve 1/2 cup of the milk, pouring the remainder into the double boiler, set it on the fire. Put the oyster liquor in a stew-pan, and heat slowly. Mix the cold milk with the flour, and stirring into the boiling milk; cook for 10 minutes. When the oyster liquor boils, skim it. When the flour and milk have cooked for 10 minutes, add the oysters, butter, salt, pepper and oyster liquor. Cook until the oysters curl on the edge and are plump. Serve at once. BEAN SOUP (WITHOUT STOCK). 1 qt. dried white beans. 1 large tbsp. butter. 2 qts. water. Salt and pepper to taste. Wash the beans, cover them with water, and soak over night. Next morning drain, put them on to boil with 2 quarts of fresh cold water. As soon as they come to a boil drain this water off and throw it away. Cover again with 2 quarts of fresh boiling water, add 1 ssp. of soda, and boil until soft. Press the beans through a sieve, return to the kettle, and if too thick add enough boiling water to make the soup about the consistency of cream. Add the salt, pepper and butter, and serve. (Minced onion, carrot, or celery fried in a little butter or dripping, and added to this soup before straining, improves the flavor.) BOUILLON. 2 lbs. lean beef. 1 small onion. A sprig of parsley. 1 qt. cold water. 1 stalk celery, or 1/2 tsp. celery seed. 1 bay leaf. Remove all the fat and chop the meat very fine. Put it into the soup kettle with the water, bay leaf, parsley, onion and celery. Cover the kettle closely and place it in the back part of the range for 2 hours. Then move it over and let it come to a boil; skim at the first boil. Move back and simmer gently for 4 hours. Strain, return to the kettle, add salt and pepper. Beat the white of one egg with 1/2 cup of cold water until thoroughly mixed. Wash the egg shell, mash it and add to the white. Now add the white, shell and water to the boiling bouillon; let it boil hard for 10 minutes, then throw in 1/2 cup of cold water and boil 5 minutes longer. Take the kettle off the fire, strain through a flannel bag, add salt to taste, and color with caramel. (See recipe for caramel.) This is an excellent preparation for invalids. * * * * * FISH. Fish is an invaluable article of food. It provides variety in diet, and while less stimulating than meat, is usually more easily digested. Fish should be perfectly fresh and thoroughly cooked. The most wholesome as well as the most palatable methods for cooking fish are broiling and baking. The flesh of fresh fish is firm and will not retain the impress of the finger if pressed into it. The eyes should be bright and glassy, the gills red and full of blood. Fish should be cleaned as soon as possible and thoroughly wiped with a cloth wet in salt water, and should be kept in a cool place. Do not put it near other food such as milk, butter, etc., as they will absorb the odor. BROILED FISH. Rub a double broiler well with a piece of suet before putting in the fish. Lay the fish flat so that the flesh side will be exposed on one side of the broiler and the skin on the other. Broil carefully, as the skin side burns very quickly. A fish weighing 3 lbs. will take about 25 or 30 minutes to broil. When cooked sprinkle with salt and pepper, and serve very hot. BAKED FISH. 1 cup cracker or bread crumbs. 1 ssp. salt. 1 tsp. chopped onion. 1 tsp. chopped parsley. 1 ssp. pepper. 1/4 cup melted butter or dripping. Clean, wipe and dry the fish, rub with salt; fill with stuffing and sew or tie carefully. Rub all over with butter (or dripping), salt and pepper, dredge with flour, put it into a hot oven; baste when the flour is brown, and often afterwards. Remove carefully from the pan and place upon a hot platter. SCALLOPED FISH. Pick over carefully any remnants of cold boiled or baked fish, put into a shallow dish in alternate layers with bread crumbs and cream sauce. Cover with crumbs and bake till brown. SALT FISH BALLS. 1 cup salt fish. 1 tsp. butter. 1/4 ssp. pepper. 1 pint potatoes. 1 egg, well beaten. More salt if needed. Wash the fish, pick in pieces and free from bones. Pare the potatoes and cut in quarters. Put the potatoes and fish in a stew-pan and cover with boiling water. Boil until the potatoes are tender. Drain off all the water; mash and beat the fish and potatoes till very light. Add the butter and pepper, and when slightly cooled add the egg. Lift in a tbsp. and drop into smoking hot fat 1 minute, drain on brown paper; they may be formed into balls and browned in a very hot oven. * * * * * MEAT. (_See Analysis, Chap. V._) As meat is composed of several substances, fibrine, albumen, gelatin, fat and the juices, it is necessary to understand the various methods of cooking in order to secure the best results. Meat has its season as well as many other foods. Pork is better in autumn and winter; veal in the spring and summer; fowl in autumn and winter; lamb in the summer and autumn; mutton and beef may be used any time. Meat should not be allowed to remain in the paper in which it comes from market, as it absorbs the juices and injures the flavor. Wipe all over with a clean wet cloth. Examine carefully, remove any tainted or unclean portions and keep in a clean, cool place until required. Good beef should be a bright red color, well mixed with fat, and a layer of fat on the outside; the suet should be dry and crumble easily. (See meat diagrams for different cuts.) Mutton should have an abundance of clear, white fat, the flesh fine grained and a bright red color. The fat of veal should be clear and white, the lean pink, and should always be thoroughly cooked. Pork is more indigestible when fresh than when cured, as in bacon and ham. Fresh pork should be firm, the fat white, the lean a pale red. ROAST OF BEEF. Wipe, trim, and tie or skewer into shape the cut for roasting. If there be a large piece of the flank, cut it off and use for soups or stews. If you wish to roast it, turn it underneath and fasten with a skewer. Lay the meat on a rack in a pan, and dredge all over with flour. Put on the top of a roast 2 or 3 tbsps. of dripping or pieces of the fat; put it in a very hot oven at first. After the outside has become seared, check off the heat and allow to cook slowly, basting frequently. (See time table for baking.) BROILED STEAK. Trim the steak free from all suet (save all trimmings for stews or the stock pot). Put the meat plate to warm, grease the broiler with a little of the fat. See that the fire is clear. Put the steak on the hot broiler and place it over the fire, turning every 10 seconds. It will take about 8 minutes if the steak is 1 inch thick. When done, place it on the hot plate, dredge it with salt and pepper; turn over and season the other side. Serve immediately. PAN-BROILED STEAK. When the fire is not suitable for broiling, heat the frying pan until smoking hot; trim the steak as for broiling, place firmly on the hot pan, turn frequently as in broiling, with a broad knife or pancake turner; never insert a fork, as it allows the juice to escape. It will cook in 10 minutes. Season, and serve the same as broiled steak. If a gravy is desired, fry a little of the suet and trimmings in the pan--after the steak has been removed--until brown, lift out the meat or suet, add 1 tbsp. of flour, stir until brown, add pepper and salt to taste, then add 1 teacup of boiling water. Cook for 2 or 3 minutes and strain over the steak. HAMBURG STEAK. 1 lb. of steak from the upper side of the round, or any piece of lean beef free from gristle; chop very fine, add 1 tbsp. of onion juice (or finely minced onion), 1/2 tsp. salt, 1/2 ssp. black pepper, mix well together; dip the hands in cold water, take 2 tbsps. of the mixture and form with the hands into small round cakes. Have the frying pan very hot, put in 2 tbsps. of dripping; when hot, put in the steaks, brown on both sides--or they may be pan-broiled. Place them on a hot dish, add a tbsp. of flour to the fat remaining in the pan, mix until smooth and brown; add a cupful of boiling water, stir until it boils, add pepper and salt to taste, and pour over the steak. BEEF STEW WITH DUMPLINGS. 2 lbs. of lean beef (cheaper cuts). Cut into pieces about 1 inch square, dredge with flour. Put 2 tbsps. of dripping into a frying pan; as soon as it is very hot put in the meat and shake or stir until nicely browned. Skim out the meat and put it in a saucepan. Add 1 tbsp. of flour to the dripping remaining in the pan, mix and add 1 quart of boiling water; stir over the fire until it boils, then strain it over the meat; add one small onion, pepper and salt to taste. Cover the saucepan closely and let it simmer for 2 hours. Make the dumplings by sifting 1 pint of flour, to which has been added 2 tsps. baking powder. Add 1/4 tsp. salt and enough milk to make a soft dough. Lift the dough in spoonfuls, placing them over the meat, cover quickly and let boil 10 minutes. Do not uncover the saucepan while the dumplings are cooking or they will fall immediately. Be careful not to allow the stew to burn while the dumplings are cooking. POT ROAST. Trim off the rough parts of a brisket of beef or any of the cheaper cuts. Place it in a kettle over a good fire; brown on one side, then turn and brown on the other; add 1 pint of boiling water, cover closely and simmer, allowing 20 minutes to every pound. Add pepper and salt when the meat is nearly done. BRAISED BEEF. From 4 to 6 lbs. of beef from the lower part of the round or rump. Trim and rub well with salt, pepper and flour. Chop 2 small onions and fry until light brown in pork fat or dripping; skim them out and put them into the pan in which the meat is to be braised, then brown the meat all over, adding more fat if needed (this may be done in a very hot oven). Put the meat into the pan, on skewers to keep it from sticking, with the onions around it. Add 1 qt. of boiling water, cover closely, putting a brick or heavy weight on the cover to keep it down, and cook in a moderate oven 4 hours, basting occasionally. Turn once and add more water as it evaporates, so as to have 1 pt. left for gravy. When tender take up the meat, remove the fat, add more salt and pepper, and if liked, a little lemon juice or tomato may be added. Thicken with 2 tbsps. of flour wet in a little cold water. Cook 10 minutes and pour the gravy over the meat. Any tough meat may be cooked in this way. HASH. Take any pieces left of a cold roast, steaks or stews, chop very fine; take 1 tbsp. butter or dripping, 1 tbsp. of flour, stir together in a hot frying pan, when brown add 1 cup boiling water; add 1 tbsp. chopped onion, pepper and salt to taste, let simmer for 10 minutes, then add the meat, stir until heated thoroughly and serve on toast. CORNED BEEF OR SAUSAGE HASH. 1 pt. hashed corn beef or sausage. 1 tsp. salt. 1 tbsp. butter or dripping. 1 pt. of hashed potatoes. 1/4 tsp. pepper. 1/2 cup of milk. (Omit the milk if sausage is used). Mix the potato and meat, season with the pepper and salt, add the milk and stir lightly. Put the butter or dripping into a hot frying pan, when melted put in the hash, spread it lightly and evenly, but do not stir it. Cover the pan and set where the hash will cook slowly for 10 or 15 minutes. Move over to a hotter part of the stove and let it remain until a rich, brown crust has formed on the bottom. Fold over and serve on a hot dish. MUTTON--BOILED LEG OF MUTTON. Wipe the leg with a damp towel. Dust a cloth with flour and wrap the leg up with it. Put it into a kettle of boiling water and simmer gently 20 minutes to every pound; add salt when the leg is nearly done. When cooked remove the cloth carefully, garnish with parsley and serve with caper sauce. Save the liquor in which it was boiled for broth, stews, etc. IRISH STEW. 3 lbs. of the neck of mutton. 4 good sized onions. 4 potatoes cut into dice. 2 qts. of water. Salt and pepper to taste. Cut the meat into small pieces, cover with the water, which should be boiling, add the onions sliced, and simmer gently for 3 hours. About 1/2 hour before the meat is done add the potatoes, season with pepper and salt, and serve. TO BAKE OR ROAST A QUARTER OF LAMB. Wipe the meat with a damp cloth, place in a baking pan, dredge with pepper, put 1 tsp. of salt in the pan, add just enough water to keep the pan from burning until enough of its own fat has fried out to use for basting. Baste at least every 10 minutes; allow 15 minutes to every pound in a very hot oven. Serve with mint sauce. LAMB CHOPS Are broiled or pan-broiled the same as beefsteak. VEAL--VEAL CUTLETS. Have the cutlets about 1/4 of an inch thick, dredge with salt, pepper and flour. Put a tbsp. of dripping in a frying pan, and when very hot put in the cutlets; when brown on one side turn and brown on the other, take out and place on a hot dish. Add a tbsp. of flour to the fat remaining in the pan, mix and stir until brown; add a cupful of boiling water, pepper and salt to taste, stir until it boils, pour over the cutlets, and serve. STEWED KNUCKLE OF VEAL. Wipe the knuckle well with a damp cloth. Cut it into pieces. Put into a kettle with 2 quarts of boiling water, add 1 onion chopped, 1/4 lb. of chopped ham, and 1 bay leaf, pepper and salt to taste. Cover and stew slowly for 2-1/2 hours (a half cup of rice may be added to this stew). JELLIED VEAL. 1 knuckle of veal. 1 blade of mace. 12 whole cloves. 1/2 cup of vinegar. 1 onion. 1 bay leaf. 6 pepper corns. Salt and pepper to taste. Wipe the knuckle and cut it into pieces. Put into a kettle with 2 quarts of cold water; bring slowly to simmering point; skim and simmer gently for 2 hours; then add the onion, mace, bay leaf, cloves, pepper corns, and simmer 1 hour longer. Take out the knuckle, carefully remove the bones and put the meat into a mould or square pan. Boil the liquor until reduced to 1 quart, add the vinegar, pepper and salt to taste, strain and pour over the meat. Stand away until cold, when it may be turned out and garnished with parsley and lemon. FILLET OF VEAL (STUFFED). 1 cup of bread crumbs. 1 tsp. of summer savory. 1 ssp. of pepper. 1/2 cup of chopped salt pork or ham. 1 tsp. of salt. Have the bone removed from the shoulder, fill the space from which the bone was taken with the stuffing, fasten the meat together with a skewer to prevent the stuffing from coming out, put into the pan with 3 or 4 tbsps. of dripping, allowing 20 minutes to each pound, basting frequently in a moderately hot oven. PORK AND BEANS. Soak the beans over night in cold water. In the morning wash them well in a colander, put them on to boil in cold water, at the first boil drain this water off and cover with fresh boiling water. Score the rind of the pork and put it in with the beans. Simmer gently until you can blow off the skin of the beans. To do this, take 3 or 4 beans in your hand, blow hard on them, and if the skin cracks they are done. Take out the pork and drain. Put the beans into an earthen pot or granite kettle with a cover; almost bury the pork in the centre of the beans. Add 1 tsp. of salt to 1 pint of the water in which the beans were boiled, pour this into the pot, sprinkle with pepper, pour over the beans 1 large spoonful of molasses, put on the lid, bake in a moderate oven for 6 or 8 hours. If baked in an ordinary iron baking pan they must be covered with another on which has been placed a weight, carefully watched, and baked only 3 hours. ROAST SPARE RIBS. Put the spare ribs in a baking pan, sprinkle lightly with pepper, add 1/2 tsp. of salt to 1/2 cup of boiling water, and pour in the bottom of the pan. Roast 20 minutes to every lb., basting often. When done, make a gravy and serve as for any other roast. (Spare ribs may be stuffed, the ribs cracked crosswise, the stuffing placed in the centre, the two ends folded over, roast as above.) BROILED HAM. Have the ham cut into slices about 1/4 inch thick, trim off the rind and rusty edge. Broil the same as steak or chops. (This is a very nice way to serve ham with poached eggs.) Ham may be pan-broiled as directed in former recipes. FRIED BACON. Cut into very thin slices, put into a very hot frying pan, and cook until clear and crisp. SAUSAGE. Prick the skins with a sharp fork so as to prevent bursting; place them in a frying pan over a moderate fire and fry in their own fat until a nice brown. After taking the sausage from the pan, add 1 tbsp. of flour to the fat in the pan, add 1 cup of boiling water, stir until it boils, pour over the sausage and serve. LIVER AND BACON. Have the bacon cut in thin slices and keep it cold until the time to cook it. Have the liver cut into slices about 1/3 of an inch thick. If it be calf or sheep's liver, wash it in cold water and let it drain; but if it be beef liver, after washing it, cover with boiling water and let it stand for 5 minutes, then drain it. Cook the bacon as directed, then take it up. Lay the slices of liver in the hot fat, cook them for 8 or 10 minutes, turning often; season with pepper and salt. Arrange the liver on a warm platter, make a gravy as directed in other recipes, pour over the liver, placing the bacon round the outside. (Always cook bacon quickly and liver slowly.) * * * * * POULTRY. The best chickens have soft yellow feet, short thick legs, smooth, moist skin and plump breast; the cartilage on the end of the breast bone is soft and pliable. Pin feathers always indicate a young bird and long hairs an older one. All poultry should be dressed as soon as killed. Cut off the head, and if the fowl is to be roasted, slip the skin back from the neck and cut the neck off close to the body, leaving skin enough to fold over on the back. Remove the windpipe, pull the crop away from the skin on the neck and breast, and cut off close to the opening in the body. Cut through the skin about 2 inches below the leg joint, bend the leg at the cut by pressing it on the edge of the table and break off the bone. Then pull out the tendon. If care be taken to cut only through the skin, these cords may be pulled out easily, one at a time, with the fingers; or by putting the foot of the fowl against the casing of a door, then shut the door tightly and pull on the leg. The drum stick of a roast chicken or turkey is greatly improved by removing the tendons. Cut out the oil bag in the tail, make an incision near the vent, insert two fingers, keeping the fingers up close to the breast bone until you can reach in beyond the liver and heart, and loosen on either side down toward the back. Draw everything out carefully. See that the kidneys and lungs are not left in, and be very careful not to break any of the intestines. When the fowl has been cleaned carefully it will not require much washing. Rinse out the inside quickly and wipe dry. In stuffing and trussing a fowl, place the fowl in a bowl and put the stuffing in at the neck, fill out the breast until plump. Then draw the neck skin together at the ends and sew it over on the back. Put the remainder of the stuffing into the body at the other opening and sew with coarse thread or fine twine. Draw the thighs up close to the body and tie the legs over the tail firmly with twine. Put a long skewer through the thigh into the body and out through the opposite thigh, turn the tips of the wings under the back of the fowl, put a long skewer through from one wing to the other. Wind a string from the tail to the skewer in the thigh, then up to the one in the wing across the back to the other wing, then down to the opposite side and tie firmly round the tail. If you have no skewers, the fowl may be kept in shape by tying carefully with twine. Clean all the giblets, cut away all that looks green near the gall bladder, open the gizzard and remove the inner lining without breaking. Put the gizzard, heart, liver, and the piece of neck which has been cut off, into cold water, wash carefully, put in a saucepan, cover with cold water, place on the back of the stove and simmer till tender. Use the liquid for making the gravy; the meat may be chopped and used for giblet soup. ROAST CHICKEN (OR TURKEY). Singe carefully, remove the pin feathers, draw as directed above. Wipe, stuff, sew and tie or skewer into shape, dredge with flour, cover with plenty of dripping; roast in a hot oven. When the flour is brown check the heat, baste frequently with the fat, and when nearly cooked dredge with pepper and salt and again with flour. Bake a 4 lb. chicken 1-1/2 hour, or until the joints separate easily. If browning too fast, cover with paper. (Roast chicken is considered to be more wholesome and to have a better flavor when cooked without stuffing.) FRICASSEE OF CHICKEN. The first attempt of an inexperienced cook in the preparation of a chicken should be a fricassee, as it will provide an opportunity for her to study the anatomy of a chicken while cutting it in pieces, and also show her the position of the intestines, so that when she attempts to draw a fowl she will know just where to place her hand so as to remove them without breaking. To prepare a chicken for a fricassee, clean and singe. Cut the chicken at the joints in pieces for serving. Place in a kettle, cover with boiling water, add 2 level tsps. of salt, a ssp. of pepper (some like a small piece of salt pork). Simmer until tender, reducing the water to a pint or less, lift the chicken, melt 1 tbsp. of butter in a saucepan, add 2 tbsps. of flour, and when well mixed pour on slowly the chicken liquor. Add more salt if needed, pepper, 1/2 tsp. of celery salt, 1 tsp. of lemon juice (an egg may be used by beating and pouring the sauce slowly on the egg, stirring well before adding it to the chicken). Pour this gravy over the chicken and serve; dumplings may be added if desired, or it may be placed in a deep dish, covered with pastry and baked for chicken pie. (The chicken may be browned in a little hot fat as in braising meat, and cooked in the same way.) BROILED CHICKEN. Singe and split a young chicken down the back. Break the joints, clean and wipe with a wet cloth, sprinkle with pepper and salt, rub well with butter or dripping, place in a double grid-iron and broil 20 minutes over a clear fire. The chicken may be covered with fine bread crumbs or dredged with flour, allowing a plentiful supply of butter or dripping, and baked in a hot oven 1/2 hour. MEAT SOUFFLE. Make 1 cup of white sauce and season with chopped parsley and onion juice. Stir 1 cup of chopped meat (chicken, tongue, veal or lamb) into the sauce. When hot, add the beaten yolks of two eggs; cook 1 minute and set away to cool. When cool, stir in the whites, beat very stiff. Bake in a buttered dish about twenty minutes and serve immediately. CROQUETTES. These may be made with any kind of cooked meat, fish, rice, potatoes, etc., or from a mixture of several ingredients, when mixed with a thick white sauce, as follows: 1 pint hot milk, 2 tbsps. butter or beef dripping, 6 (l.) tbsps. flour, or 4 (l.) tbsps. cornstarch, 1/2 tsp. salt, 1/2 ssp. white pepper, 1/2 tsp. celery salt, a speck of cayenne. Melt the butter or dripping in a saucepan, when hot add the dry cornstarch or flour. Stir till well mixed. Add 1/3 of the hot milk and stir as it boils and thickens, add the remainder of the hot milk gradually. The sauce should be very thick. Add the seasoning, and mix it while hot with the meat or fish. It is improved by adding a beaten egg just before the sauce is taken from the fire. When cold, shape into rolls or like a pear, roll lightly in beaten egg, then in bread crumbs, and fry in deep hot fat. Drain on coarse brown paper. If the mixture be too soft to handle easily stir in enough fine cracker or soft bread crumbs to stiffen it, but never flour. * * * * * HOT PUDDINGS. APPLE PUDDING (BAKED). 1 pint flour. 1/4 cup butter or dripping. 1 cup milk. 1 tsp. cream of tartar. 3 tbsps. sugar. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 egg. 1/2 tsp. soda sifted into the flour. 6 tart apples. Mix the dry ingredients, beat the egg and mix it with the milk, stir this into the dry mixture. Core, pare and cut the apples into quarters (if large into eighths). Place in the bottom of a pudding dish, sprinkle over them the sugar, a little nutmeg or cinnamon may be added if desired. Put the mixture over this, lifting the apples with a fork or spoon so as to let the mixture penetrate to the bottom of the pan. Bake in a moderately hot oven about 30 minutes. Serve with lemon sauce or thin custard. COTTAGE PUDDING. 1/2 pint sifted flour. 1/2 cup sugar. 1/4 tsp. salt. 1 egg. 1/2 cup milk. 1 tbsp. butter. 2 tsps. baking powder (level). Beat the butter and sugar to a cream, add the unbeaten egg, beat vigorously for 3 or 4 minutes, add the salt, then the flour, with which the baking powder should be mixed. Beat for a few seconds, then turn the batter into a small, buttered pudding dish, bake about 25 minutes in a moderate oven; serve with lemon sauce. LEMON PUDDING. 4 level tbsps. granulated sugar. 1 ssp. of salt. 2 tbsps. milk. The juice and grated rind of a small lemon. 6 (l.) tsps. cornstarch. 1 tbsp. butter. 1/2 cup water. 1 egg. Mix the cornstarch with 3 tbsps. cold water; put the remainder of the water in the saucepan and set on to boil. Stir into this the mixed cornstarch and cook until clear. Take from the fire, add the salt and lemon, reserving 1/2 tsp. of the lemon. Beat the butter to a cream, gradually beat into it the sugar, the yolk of the egg, lastly the milk. Stir this mixture into the cooked ingredients, and bake in a moderate oven for 20 minutes. Beat the white of the egg to a stiff froth, beat into it 1 tbsp. of powdered sugar and the 1/2 tsp. of lemon juice. Spread this over the hot pudding and leave in the oven until slightly browned. (This pudding is better served very cold.) BREAD PUDDING. 1 pint stale bread crumbs. 1 quart of sugar. 1 ssp. of nutmeg or cinnamon. 2 eggs. 1/2 tsp. salt. Soak the bread crumbs for 1 hour in 1 quart of milk. Beat the eggs, add the sugar and seasoning, stir all into the bread crumbs, bake 1 hour in a buttered pudding dish. (Raisins or currants may be added if desired.) Another method for making bread pudding is to butter thin slices of stale bread, spread with a little jam or sprinkle a few currants (well washed) over each layer, lay them in a pudding dish, pour over a quart of milk, to which has been added 3 well beaten eggs, 1/2 cup sugar. Bake until the custard thickens. This pudding may be served either hot or cold. STEAMED APPLE PUDDING. 3 pints pared and quartered apples. 1/2 pint flour. 1/2 cup sugar. 1 tbsp. butter. 1/4 of a grated nutmeg. 1/2 cup milk. 1/2 pint water. 1/4 tsp. salt. 2 (l.) tsps. baking powder. Put the apples, water, sugar, and nutmeg into a porcelain or granite saucepan and set on the fire. When the apples begin to boil, set back where they will cook gently. Mix the flour, salt and baking powder together. Rub the butter into this dry mixture, wet with the milk, stir quickly into a soft dough. Press or roll the dough lightly into a round piece about the size of the top of the saucepan. Lay this on the apples; put on a close cover and continue cooking gently for 30 minutes. The crust may be lifted to a plate for a moment, the apples turned into a pudding dish, then placing the crust over the top. To be served with lemon or nutmeg sauce. BOILED RICE PUDDING. 1/2 cup rice. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 pint milk. 1/2 cup raisins. Wash the rice well. Put it on the fire in 1 pint of cold water and let it cook for 10 minutes. Drain off the water, add the salt and milk; then cook in the double boiler for 2 hours, add the raisins when about half cooked. Do not stir the rice while it is cooking. BROWN BETTY. Pare, core and slice 6 or 7 tart apples. Put a layer of stale bread crumbs in the bottom of the baking dish, then a layer of the apples, another layer of bread crumbs and apples, and so on until all are used, having the last layer crumbs. Add 1/2 cup of water to 1/2 cup molasses, stir in 2 tbsps. of brown sugar; pour it over the crumbs and bake in a moderate oven for 1 hour. APPLE SNOW. 6 apples. Juice of 1 lemon. 1 cup white sugar. Whites of 6 eggs. Pare, core and steam the apples until tender, then press them through a sieve and put aside to cool; when cold add the sugar and lemon juice. Beat the whites of the eggs to a very stiff froth, add the apples to them by spoonfuls, beating all the while. Heap in a glass dish and serve immediately. (This is a very delicate and wholesome pudding for an invalid.) SCALLOPED APPLES. Made the same as Brown Betty, omitting the molasses, adding water and a little lemon juice instead. SUET PUDDING. 1 cup suet. 1 cup molasses. 3 cups flour. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 cup raisins. 1 cup milk. 1 tsp. cinnamon. 2 tsps. baking powder. Chop the suet very fine. Stone the raisins. Add the molasses to the suet, then the milk: mix well and add the salt, flour and cinnamon. Beat vigorously for 2 or 3 minutes, then add the raisins. Rub in the flour, to which has been added the baking powder; mix thoroughly, turn into a buttered mould, steam for 3 hours. TAPIOCA PUDDING. 1 cup tapioca. 4 eggs. 1/2 cup sugar. 1 quart milk. 1/4 tsp. salt. 1 tsp. vanilla. Wash the tapioca carefully, then add it to the milk and soak 2 hours. Beat the eggs and sugar together, add the salt, stir into the tapioca and milk, and bake in a moderate oven at least 3/4 of an hour. Serve hot or cold. CHOCOLATE PUDDING. 1 egg. 2 tbsps. cornstarch. 3 tbsps. sugar. 1/2 tsp. vanilla. 1 pint milk. 1 tbsp. boiling water. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 oz. shaved chocolate. Reserve 1/2 cup milk, put the remainder on the fire in a double boiler. Mix the cold milk with the cornstarch and salt. Beat the egg well and add to the cornstarch mixture. Stir this into the boiling milk and stir well. Put the chocolate, sugar and boiling water into a small frying pan or saucepan, and set over a hot fire. Stir until the mixture is smooth and glossy; beat this into the pudding and cook for 2 minutes longer. Take from the fire and add the vanilla. Dip a mould into cold water and turn the pudding into it. Set away to cool. When cold and stiff, turn out on a flat dish and surround with whipped cream; or serve with cream and sugar or a soft custard. SNOW PUDDING. 1/4 box gelatine. 1 cup boiling water. 1 cup sugar. 2 tbsps. cold water. Juice of one lemon. Whites of 2 eggs. Soak the gelatine in cold water for 2 hours. Pour upon this the boiling water and stir until the gelatine is dissolved; then add the sugar and lemon juice, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Set the bowl in a pan of cold water, or broken ice. Stir frequently; when it begins to thicken, stir in the beaten whites of the eggs, pour into a mould and set away until firm. Serve with boiled custard. CREAM PIE. Make a plain cup cake, and bake it in a shallow cake pan. When cooked and cold, split it carefully. Put 1 pint of milk on to boil in a farina boiler. Beat the yolks of 3 eggs and 1/2 cup of sugar together until light, then add the well-beaten whites, and stir them into the boiling milk; stir over the fire for about 1 minute, then take from the fire, add 1 tsp. of vanilla, and stand away to cool. When cold, and ready to serve, put a thick layer of this sauce between the layers of cake, pour the remaining sauce around the pie, and serve immediately. BLANC MANGE. 1 pint milk. 2 tbsps. sugar. 4 (l.) tbsps. cornstarch. 1/2 ssp. salt. Put the milk on to boil. Moisten the cornstarch with a little cold milk, then add it to the boiling milk, and stir until it thickens; let it cook slowly for 5 minutes; add the sugar and salt, take from the fire, pour into a mould and set away to harden. STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE. 1 pint flour. 1/2 tsp. salt. 3 (l.) tsps. baking powder. 1 oz. butter. 1 cup milk. Mix the salt, flour and butter together. Sift, then add the baking powder and sift again. Add the liquid gradually, mixing and cutting with a knife until the dough is light and spongy; turn it out on a well floured board, pat into a flat cake and roll gently till 1/2 an inch thick. Bake in a spider or pie plate in a rather hot oven. Split and spread with sweetened berries and serve either hot or cold. * * * * * PUDDING SAUCES. PLAIN SAUCE. 1 cup water. 1 tsp. butter. 1/2 ssp. grated nutmeg. 3 tbsps. sugar. 2 tsps. flour or cornstarch. Melt the butter and flour together, stir in the hot water, add the sugar and flavoring, cook until smooth and clear. MOLASSES SAUCE. 1/2 cup molasses. 1/2 cup water or 1/2 tbsp. vinegar. 2 (l.) tsps. flour. 1/2 cup sugar. 1 tbsp. lemon juice. 1 tbsp. butter. 1/2 ssp. salt. Mix the flour and sugar together. Pour the boiling water upon it. Add the molasses and place on the range. Simmer for 10 minutes. Add the other ingredients; boil up once and serve. (Omit lemon if vinegar is used.) CREAM SAUCE. 1 egg. 1 tsp. butter. 1 tsp. cornstarch. 1/2 cup powdered sugar. 1 tsp. vanilla. 1 cup boiling milk. Beat the white of the egg to a stiff froth; then gradually beat into it the powdered sugar and cornstarch. Next add the yolk of the egg and beat well. Pour upon this the cupful of boiling milk and place on the fire. Stir until it boils, then add the butter and vanilla. LEMON SAUCE. 1 tbsp. cornstarch. 1/2 cup sugar. 1 pint boiling water. 1 tbsp. butter. 1 egg. 1 lemon. Beat the egg, add the cornstarch and sugar, stir them well together; add the boiling water gradually and stir over the fire until thick; add the butter, juice and grated rind of one lemon. Serve hot. VANILLA SAUCE. 1 cup milk. 2 (l.) tbsps. sugar. 2 eggs. 1/2 tsp. vanilla. Put the milk on to boil, beat the yolks and sugar till very light; add them to the boiling milk; stir over the fire until creamy. Have the whites beaten, pour over them the boiling mixture; beat thoroughly and serve at once. * * * * * CAKE. There are practically two kinds of cake, that made with butter, and cake made without butter. When these two methods are understood, cake making becomes easy. A few simple rules must govern all cake making. 1st. Regulate the heat. Cakes without butter require a quick oven; with butter, a moderate oven. 2nd. Beat whites and yolks separately. 3rd. Beat butter and sugar to a cream. 4th. Add the whites last. 5th. Currants should be cleaned, washed and dried and floured (to which flour some of the baking powder should be added). 6th. Add the milk or water gradually. 7th. Sift the flour before measuring. 8th. 2 level tsps. of baking powder are equal to 1/2 tsp. soda and 1 tsp. cream of tartar. 9th. When looking at a cake while baking, do it quickly and without jarring the stove. 10th. To find out if it is baked, run a broom straw through the centre, if no dough adheres the cake is done. 11th. If browning too quickly, cover with brown paper and reduce the heat gradually. This is usually necessary in baking fruit cake. 12th. Mix cake in an earthen bowl, never in tin. 13th. Soda, cream of tartar, and baking powder should be crushed and sifted with the flour. Always attend to the fire before beginning to make cake. Coarse granulated sugar makes a coarse, heavy cake. If cake browns before rising the oven is too hot. When it rises in the centre and cracks open it is too stiff with flour. It should rise first round the edge, then in the middle and remain level. GINGERBREAD. 1 cup molasses. 2 tbsps. butter. 1 tsp. ginger. 1 pint flour. 1/2 cup sour milk. 1 tsp. soda. 1 egg. Put the molasses and butter in a pan and set on the stove. When the mixture boils up add the soda and ginger, and take from the fire immediately. Add the milk, the well-beaten egg and the flour, beat well. Bake in a shallow cake pan in a rather quick oven for 20 minutes. SPICE CAKE. 1/4 cup butter. 1/2 cup molasses. 1/2 cup sour milk. 1/2 ssp. salt. 1/2 tsp. soda. The juice and rind of 1/2 lemon. 1/2 cup sugar. 2-1/2 cups flour. 1/2 tsp. ginger. 1 tsp. cinnamon. 1/4 nutmeg, grated. 1 egg. Beat the butter to a cream. Gradually beat into it the sugar, then the spice and lemon, next the molasses. Now dissolve the soda in one tbsp. cold water and stir it into the sour milk; add this, and the egg well beaten, to the other ingredients. Lastly add the flour, and beat briskly for 1/2 minute. Pour into a well buttered pan and bake in a moderate oven for about 50 minutes. SPONGE CAKE. 3 eggs. 2/3 cup flour. 2/3 cup pulverized sugar. The grated rind and juice of 1/2 lemon. Beat the yolks of the eggs and sugar until very light, now add the juice and rind of the lemon and half the flour; beat the whites to a very stiff froth, add the remainder of the flour and the whites alternately, stirring lightly, pour into a greased cake pan. Bake in a quick oven from 25 to 30 minutes. ROLL JELLY CAKE. 2 eggs. 1 cup sugar. 1-1/2 cup flour. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 cup sweet milk. 3 (l.) tsps. baking powder. Beat the eggs separately till very light, then beat them together, add the sugar, then the milk gradually, then the flour in which the salt and baking powder have been mixed. Spread very thin on long shallow pans. Spread with jelly while warm and roll up. SEED CAKE. 1 cup butter. 1 cup milk. 2 tsps. caraway seeds. 3 tsps. baking powder. 1-1/2 cup sugar. 3 eggs. 3 cups flour. Cream the butter, add the sugar gradually, then the yolks of the eggs, then the seeds; sift the baking powder with the flour; add the flour and milk alternately a little at a time, lastly the whites which have been beaten stiff and dry; bake from 40 to 50 minutes. COOKIES (PLAIN). 1/2 cup butter. 1/4 cup milk. 2 even tsps. baking powder. 1 cup sugar. 1 egg. Flour to roll out thin. Cream the butter, add the sugar, milk, egg beaten lightly, and the baking powder mixed with two cups of flour, then enough more flour to roll out. Roll a little at a time. Cut out. Bake about 10 minutes. LAYER CAKE. 1/2 cup butter. 1 cup sugar. 2-1/2 cups flour. 3 eggs. 2/3 cup milk. 4 (l.) tsps. baking powder. Beat the butter and sugar to a cream, then add the yolks of the eggs gradually; then the flour and milk alternately (sifting the baking powder with the flour), add the well-beaten whites last. Bake in 3 tins in a moderate oven about 15 minutes. (Flavoring has been omitted in this recipe as the cake is more delicate by allowing the filling to provide the flavor.) PLAIN FRUIT CAKE. 3 eggs. 1 cup milk. 1 oz. candied lemon. 4 (l.) tsps. baking powder. 2/3 cup butter. 3 (l.) cups flour. 1 cup raisins. Mix as directed in preceding recipe, only mixing the fruit with the flour and baking powder. ICING. Whites of 2 eggs. 1/2 lb. powdered sugar. 1 tsp. of lemon juice. Have the material very cold. Break the eggs carefully, beat the whites until frothy (not stiff); sift the sugar in gradually, beating all the while; add the lemon juice and continue beating until fine and white, and stiff enough to stand alone. Keep in a cool place, when using, spread with a knife dipped in cold water. If used for ornamenting press through a tube. It may be divided and different colorings added. BOILED ICING. 1 cup granulated sugar. 1/3 cup boiling water. 1/4 tsp. cream of tartar. White of 1 egg. Boil the sugar and water together until it hangs from the spoon. Beat the egg to a stiff froth, add the cream of tartar, then pour on the syrup, beating all the while. Beat until cold and thick. * * * * * PASTRY. Pastry, unless light and tender, should never be eaten; even then it should be avoided by people with poor digestion. There are so many food preparations superior to pastry in both nutritive value and cost of time and material, that it will be wise to give it a very secondary place in the training of a culinary artist. However, as it is still a popular fancy with many, we may as well make the best of it. Butter is more wholesome in pastry than lard, although the latter makes a light crust. In order to secure satisfactory results in pastry making--especially puff pastry--three things should be observed: (1) have all the materials cold; (2) use as little liquid as possible; (3) handle lightly and quickly. Pastry should be very cold when it is put into the oven. Have the oven very hot. PUFF PASTE. 1 lb. flour. 1 lb. butter. Enough ice water to make into a very stiff dough. If the butter is salty, wash it as follows: Scald a large bowl, then fill with cold water; wash the hands in hot soapy water, then rinse them in cold water, as this will prevent the butter from sticking to the hands. Turn the cold water out of the bowl; fill it with ice water, put the butter into it and work with the hands until soft and elastic. Drain the water from the butter and place on ice until hard. Sift the flour, put 1/4 of the butter into the flour, cut with a knife or chopping knife until thoroughly mixed; then gradually add ice water until it is moist enough to hold together, turn out on the board or marble slab. Press into shape, roll lightly until about 1/4 inch thick; cut the remainder of the butter into small pieces, and lay over this layer of dough. Fold carefully over and over, roll three times. If the dough should get soft and sticky, place it in a tin or cold plate on the ice to harden between the rollings. Always fold pastry so as to keep it in layers--even when cutting off the roll keep the layers one above the other, not turning them on their sides. For patties, or especially flaky pastry, roll five or six times, provided it is not allowed to get soft. Pastry should be rolled about as thin as the edge of a plate for tarts, etc., and about 1/3 inch thick for a cover for chicken pie. PLAIN PASTRY. 2 cups flour. 1 cup butter or lard. Add the butter to the flour, chop with a knife, add enough ice water to make a firm dough. Roll out, fold, set on ice or in a cold place for at least 1/2 hour before baking. PASTE FOR MEAT PIES, ETC. 1 pint flour. 1/2 tsp. soda. 1 tsp. cream tartar Or 2 level tsps. baking powder. 1 egg. 1/2 tsp. salt. 1 tsp. cream tartar. 1/4 cup butter or dripping. 1 cup milk. Mix as for biscuit or shortcake. * * * * * MISCELLANEOUS. SHEPHERD'S PIE. Three cups of any kind of cold meat, 6 or 7 potatoes, 1 small onion, 1 cupful of boiling milk, salt, pepper, 1-1/2 cup gravy or stock thickened with 1 tbsp. of flour. Cut the meat in small pieces and put in a deep earthen dish. Grate the onion into the gravy and pour over the meat. Pare, boil, and mash the potatoes. Add the salt, pepper and milk, and 1 tbsp. of butter or dripping. Cover the meat with this and bake in a moderate oven until nicely brown. BEEF STEW. Take the bones and hard tough parts left from a roast of beef. Remove all the meat from the bones and cut it into small pieces. Cut about 1/4 of a lb. of the fat into pieces; put it in the stew-pan to fry. When it begins to brown put in 1/2 carrot, a piece of turnip and 2 small onions cut fine. Stir over the fire for 10 minutes. Take out the fat and vegetables and put the bones in the bottom of the kettle. Add the meat and cooked vegetables, but not the fat. Dredge with salt and pepper, and flour, using at least 1/2 cup flour. Add 3 pints of water and simmer gently 1 hour; pare and cut in slices 6 potatoes, simmer until the potatoes are well cooked. Draw forward where it will boil more rapidly, have dough ready for dumplings (see recipe for dumplings). Put the dumplings on the top of the stew; cover closely and cook just 10 minutes. STUFFED TOMATOES. Take 6 large smooth tomatoes, 1/2 tsp. salt, 1/2 ssp. pepper, 1/2 tbsp. butter, 1/2 tbsp. sugar, 1/2 tsp. onion juice, 1/2 cupful bread crumbs. Arrange the tomatoes in a baking pan. Cut a thin slice from the smooth end of each. With a small spoon scoop out as much of the pulp and juice as possible without injuring the shape. Mix the pulp and juice with the other ingredients and fill the tomatoes with this mixture. Put on the tops and bake slowly 3/4 of an hour. Lift the tomatoes carefully and place on a hot flat dish, garnish with parsley, and serve. STEWED KIDNEYS. Cut the kidneys in thin, round slices. Cover them with cold water and let them stand for 1/2 hour; wash them clean, and put them in a saucepan with 1 qt. of water or stock, 2 cloves, 2 tbsps. of onion juice, salt and pepper. Simmer 2 hours. Put 1 tbsp. of butter in the frying pan, and when hot add 1 of flour; stir until it is brown and smooth, and add to the kidneys. Add a little sweet herbs, and simmer 1/2 hour longer. If not seasoned enough, add a little more salt and pepper, and, if desired, 1 tbsp. of lemon juice. This dish can be prepared at any time, as it is quite as good warmed over as when it is prepared. CREAMED EGGS. Boil 6 eggs 20 minutes. Make 1 pint of cream sauce. Have 6 slices of toast on a hot dish. Put a layer of sauce on each slice of toast, then part of the whites of the eggs, cut in thin strips, rub part of the yolks through a sieve, or a potato ricer, on to the toast. Repeat this, and finish with a third layer of sauce. Place in the oven for about 3 minutes, then serve. BUTTERED TOAST. Cut the bread 1/3 of an inch thick. Turn the bread twice (so as to draw out the moisture) before browning. Have some melted butter on a plate, dip one side of the toast in this before serving. CROUTONS (FOR SOUP). Cut stale bread into 1/2 inch slices, remove the crust and cut into 1/2 inch cubes. Drop them into hot fat, which should be hot enough to brown them, while you count 40; drain and sprinkle with salt. FRENCH TOAST. 1 egg. 1 cup milk. 1 ssp. salt. 4 to 6 slices of stale bread. Beat the egg lightly with a fork in a shallow dish, add the salt and milk. Dip the bread in this, turn; have a griddle hot and well buttered, put the dipped bread on the hot griddle, brown, then put a little piece of butter on the top of each slice, turn and brown on the other side. To be eaten hot with jelly or with butter and sugar. SANDWICHES. Chop very fine cold ham, corned beef or tongue, adding a little of the fat. Mix 1 tsp. of dry mustard, 1 ssp. of salt, a few drops of lemon juice with cold water to a stiff paste; add to it 1/4 cup butter creamed. Cut bread--at least 1 day old--in very thin slices, spread with the mustard and butter paste, then with the meat. Put two slices together and cut into any shape desired. (Chicken or veal sandwiches may be made by chopping the meat very fine, and adding to it a little of the cooked salad dressing or mayonnaise.) * * * * * A FEW GENERAL HINTS. HOW TO BLANCH ALMONDS. Shell the nuts, and pour boiling water over them; let them stand in the water a minute or two and then throw them into cold water. Rub between the hands. TO CLEAN CURRANTS. Sprinkle thickly with flour, rub well until they are separated and the flour, grit, and fine stems have loosened. Throw them into a strainer and wash thoroughly in cold water; change the water often; shake well in the strainer; then drain between towels, pick over carefully, and dry them in a warm place, but not in the oven. Put away in jars, cover closely, and they are ready for use at any time. SERVING FOOD. Hot food should be served hot, and on hot plates. Cold food should be served very cold. A little garnish of parsley, hard-boiled egg, sliced lemon, toast, watercress or centre of a lettuce head adds much to the attractiveness of a dish. Small rolls, a square of bread, or croutons should be served with soup. Sliced lemon with fish. Cold beets, carrots, turnips, and the whites of hard-boiled eggs, stamped out with a fancy vegetable cutter, make a pretty garnish for cold meats. Toast cut into triangles makes a suitable garnish for many dishes. Whipped cream is the most delicate garnish for all cold, light puddings; a little coloring may be added to part of it in order to vary the decoration. CANNING AND PRESERVING. Canning fruit is simply sterilizing and sealing in air-tight jars. Any fresh ripe fruit may be kept in this way. By observing a few general rules any housekeeper may preserve fruit successfully. 1st. Have good fruit, ripe and fresh. 2nd. Have air-tight jars--test by filling with water and inverting. 3rd. See that the jars have been well scalded and are free from odor of any kind. 4th. Have rims and covers at hand so that the jars may be sealed immediately when the fruit is put into them. 5th. Fill the jars till they overflow. 6th. Let the syrup simmer for a few minutes before putting in the fruit. 7th. Cook the fruit slowly so as to avoid breaking; place carefully in the jars, fill up with syrup and seal at once. A good method for canning fruit is to cook the fruit in the jars, by placing them in a boiler or kettle of water with a wire frame or something underneath to avoid breaking. Fill the jar with fruit; pour over a syrup of the desired consistency, screw on the top loosely--so as to allow the gas to escape--and place in the boiler; fill the boiler with cold water up to the rim of the jar and bring slowly to boiling point. Allow small fruits to remain 10 minutes, and peaches, pears, etc., 15 minutes after the water boils. Remove the tops, fill to overflowing with boiling syrup, and seal at once. By this method fruit retains the flavor somewhat more than by cooking in an open kettle. An average syrup for canning fruit is made by adding a pound of sugar to a pint of water (see rule 6). In order to prevent fruit jars from cracking, wring a cloth out of cold water on which the jar should be placed before filling with the hot fruit, or by placing a silver spoon or fork in the jar before putting in the syrup, fruit or jelly. Always see that the tops are screwed on tightly before putting the jar away in a cool place, which should not be done until the fruit has become cold. PRESERVING. Preserving differs from canning in the amount of sugar used; otherwise the method is similar. Preserves are usually made from equal weights of sugar and fruit, and cooked at least 20 minutes. JELLIES. Fruit jellies are made of equal parts of clear fruit juice and sugar. Crab apples, currants, and quinces are the most reliable fruits for jelly. Cook the fruit--currants may be mashed and drained without cooking--until soft. Drain over night through a flannel bag. In the morning measure 1 pint of sugar for each pint of juice. Heat the sugar in a large earthen bowl in the oven, stirring often to prevent burning. Let the juice boil 20 minutes; then add the hot sugar and boil about 5 minutes longer, or until it thickens when dropped from a spoon. * * * * * SUGGESTIONS FOR YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. Carefully supervise the daily dietary so that a reasonable proportion of the necessary food elements may be provided. See that the proportion of proteid is one part to four of carbohydrates and fats. Adapt the dietary to the season and climate. Do not waste time and money in preparing rich puddings, entrees, cakes, etc., when fresh fruit, vegetables, salads, etc., are so much more nutritious, economical and convenient. Arrange to have a variety of food--different kinds of meat, fish, and poultry--cooked in various ways. See that suitable food is provided for the children; especially pure milk and food containing mineral salts. Do not allow children to use tea, coffee, or other stimulants. A glass of hot milk (not boiled) is the best stimulant for a child when wearied with study or over exertion of any kind. See that the water which has stood in the pipes over night is drawn before filling the tea-kettle for breakfast, or using the water for porridge or other purposes. Rinse the tea-kettle every morning before using. Never use water from the hot tank for cooking. See that the water used for drinking purposes is pure; if suspicious, either have it filtered or boiled before using. Do not allow soiled rags, dish cloths or towels to lie around the kitchen. Wash and scald the dish cloths and towels after each dish washing, hanging them outside to dry--if possible. Keep plenty of clean towels; some fine ones for glass and china, coarser ones for general use. Have special cloths for kitchen use. Keep a holder within reach of the oven so as to avoid burning the fingers, or using an apron. See that a kettleful of boiling water is poured down the sink pipes every day. All boxes, jars and shelves in which food is kept, must be kept scrupulously clean and well aired. The refrigerator requires special attention; see that the drain pipe and interior of ice-box are kept thoroughly clean. A stiff wire with a piece of cloth fastened on the end may be used to clean the drain pipe at least once a week. Do not have any closet under the sink or places of concealment for dirty pots and pans. Bowls which have been used for flour mixtures should be filled with cold water if not washed immediately after using. Never put kitchen knives and forks into the dish water, as it loosens the handles; hold them in the hand and wash with the dish cloth. Burn all refuse, both for convenience and as a sanitary measure. If a refuse pail is used, it should be scalded frequently and a solution of carbolic acid, chloride of lime or other disinfectant used. Do not put pans and kettles half filled with water on the stove to soak, as it only hardens whatever may have adhered to the kettle and makes it more difficult to clean. DISH WASHING. Many young housekeepers look upon dish washing as the "bug-bear" of the kitchen. It need not be disagreeable work; indeed the washing of china, glass and silver ware may be placed among the arts of housekeeping. It should be the ambition of every young housekeeper to know how everything pertaining to household management should be done, and how to do it; whether she has to do it herself or direct others. One of the most important duties is dish-washing. A few simple rules may help to make this duty less objectionable. 1. Collect knives, forks and spoons by themselves. Scrape the dishes, empty the cups, and arrange neatly in the order in which they are to be washed. 2. Never pile dishes indiscriminately in a dish pan, as each kind requires separate treatment. 3. Have two pans half full of water; one with soapy water, the other with clear hot water for rinsing. 4. Wash the glassware first, in moderately hot water, slip the glasses in sideways so that the hot water may strike inside and outside at once, which will prevent breaking. Rinse and wipe at once, as they will be much brighter and clearer than if allowed to drain. 5. If the glass is cut, use a brush to cleanse out all the grooves. As it is difficult to dry such glassware, it should be dipped in clear cold water after washing, and allowed to drain. 6. Always keep the towel between the hands and the glass so as to avoid finger marks. Rinse glasses which have contained milk in cold water before washing. 7. Next wash the silver and wipe at once; then the china, first in the hot suds, then rinse in the clear hot water; wipe while warm. 8. Change dish water often, especially if the dishes are greasy; and do not leave the soap in the water to waste and stick to the dishes. 9. Use fresh water for the kitchen crockery, and pots and pans. After wiping tinware, place it on the hearth to dry, as it rusts very easily. 10. Polish the knives with bathbrick, wood ashes or sandsoap. Wash, and wipe perfectly dry; hold in the hand and wash with the dish cloth; do not under any circumstances allow knives and forks to lie in hot water. Next wash the tray, the rinsing pan, the table and the sink. Finally, the dish towels, dish cloth and dish pan. Pans in which fish or onions have been cooked should be washed and scalded, then filled with water, in which put a tsp. of soda. Place them on the top of the stove for 1/2 hour; this will remove the flavor of fish or onions. If the steel of knives or forks should become rusted, dip them in sweet oil and let stand for twenty-four hours, then rub with powdered quick-lime and the stain will be removed. Rub the ivory handles which have become stained, with whiting and spirits of turpentine. VENTILATION AND SANITATION. As pure air is one of the essentials of good health, it follows that one of the chief duties of a housekeeper is to see that the family supply of this necessary element is properly regulated. Very few housekeepers realize the importance of ventilation in promoting the general health and comfort of the family. As the scope of this book prevents anything further than a few suggestions or a brief outline of the principles underlying these important questions, we will adopt the rule followed in the preceding chapter, beginning with the cellar: 1. See that surface water is carried away from all sides, by either natural or artificial drains, and that the cellar is perfectly dry. Have enough windows in the cellar to secure plenty of light and air, and see that they are opened every day. 2. Have the cellar thoroughly cleaned and whitewashed with lime at least once a year, twice if possible, in the spring and fall. 3. Keep the coal in a dry place. 4. Do not allow decomposed vegetables, or old bottles, which may cause unpleasant odors, to accumulate in the cellar. Unless there is a special cellar for vegetables, where they may be kept at a proper temperature and carefully looked after, it is much better for the housekeeper to purchase in small quantities. Remember the ventilation of the cellar is of the greatest importance, and should never be neglected. One of the most noted authorities in America, on the question of ventilation, says: "The three important objects are, (1) To provide an abundance of pure air in every part of the house; (2) To avoid drafts, either hot or cold; (3) To provide means of escape for foul air and odors." As before stated, much of the vigor, comfort and happiness of the family depends upon attention to these matters. Next to the cellar, we will take the living and sleeping rooms, which should be thoroughly aired every day, not simply by opening the window a few inches at the bottom, or--as in some double or outside windows--by a little opening a few inches wide; but by causing a circulation of air in the room, and providing an outlet for foul air near the ceiling, which may be done by lowering the window from the top. An outlet for foul air is quite as important as an inlet for fresh air. If there is a skylight at the top of the house, it should be kept open a few inches all the time as an outlet for impure air; an attic window will serve the same purpose. Have doors and windows so arranged that a draft may be made possible when needed to change the air of a room quickly, or in airing bedclothes; two windows being of course more desirable. After dressing in the morning, open the window of the sleeping room, top and bottom; turn back the clothes over one or two chairs; place pillows and mattress where they will have a current of fresh air; also open the closet door. Do not allow water to remain in a bedroom more than twenty-four hours. When a sleeping room has been used for a sewing or sitting room during the day, it should be thoroughly aired before bedtime. Open the bathroom window frequently, top and bottom, for a few minutes, so as to allow the air to escape out of doors instead of into other parts of the house. A nursery, sitting room or school room, which has been occupied by a number of people, should have the windows open, top and bottom, while the occupants are at meals or elsewhere. A room which has been occupied as a family sitting room during the evening should be aired by the last member of the family to retire, in order to prevent the impure air making its way through the house during the night. Special attention should be given to kitchen ventilation. In order to prevent kitchen odors from penetrating through the other parts of the house, it is necessary to have an outlet for steam and impure air near the ceiling in the kitchen. If windows are placed so as to secure a draft, they may be opened at the top only, when they will serve the purpose admirably. There should be a ventilating flue in all kitchen chimneys. In building a house, see that register ventilators are placed in the kitchen on different walls, which may be closed in very cold weather. LAUNDRY WORK. As the first essential of laundry work is a plentiful supply of water, a word concerning that necessary article may not be out of place. Pure water is a chemical compound of hydrogen and oxygen. It has great absorbent and solvent powers, therefore pure water is seldom found. The first fall of any shower is mixed with the impurities of the air; among these may be acids, ammonia and carbon in the form of soot and creosote. It is these impurities which cause the stain left when rain water stands on the window-sill or other finished wood. Rain water absorbs more or less carbon dioxide from various sources, and soaking into the soil often comes in contact with lime, magnesia and other compounds. Water saturated with carbon dioxide will dissolve these substances, forming carbonates or other salts which are soluble; such water is known as "hard." Water for domestic uses is called either "hard" or "soft," according to the amount of salts which it may contain. When soap is added to hard water, the new compound formed by the union of the lime with the fatty acid of the soap is insoluble, and is deposited upon the surface of any article with which it comes in contact. This is the reason why "hard" water requires more soap when used for laundry work. It is much better to soften the water by the addition of alkalies, ammonia or sal-soda before using for laundry purposes than to depend entirely upon soap for cleansing. Another important material used in the laundry is soap. In purchasing soap, it is safer to choose the make of some well-known firm, who have a reputation to lose if their products are not good; and for anything stronger than soap, it is better to buy sal-soda and use it knowingly than to trust to the various packages so extensively advertised. Washing soda should always be dissolved in a separate vessel, and added to the water to be used. Ammonia may be used, but its too frequent use will yellow bleached fabrics. Borax is an effectual cleanser, disinfectant and bleacher. It is more expensive than ammonia or soda but is the safest alkali to use. Turpentine is valuable in removing grease; 1 tbsp. to a quart of water will serve for washing silks and other delicate materials. It should never be used in hot water. _Removing Stains._--All spots and stains should be taken out before the clothes are put into the general wash to be treated with soap. Fruit stains are the most frequent and the most indelible, when neglected. The composition of fruit juice is readily dissolved by boiling water. Stretch the stained part over an earthen dish and pour boiling water upon the stain until it disappears. If fruit stains are allowed to remain, they will require an acid, or in some cases a bleaching liquid like chloride of lime to remove them. Wine stains should be immediately covered with a thick layer of salt. Boiling milk may be used for taking out wine or fruit stains. Medicine stains usually yield to alcohol. Iodine dissolves in ether or chloroform. Coffee, tea and cocoa stain badly; the latter, if neglected, will resist to the destruction of the fabric. These all contain tannin, besides various coloring matters, and are "fixed" by soap and water. Clear boiling water will often remove fresh coffee and tea stains, although it is safer to sprinkle the stains with borax and soak in cold water first. An alkaline solution of great use and convenience is Javelle water. It will remove stains and is a general bleacher. It is composed of 1 lb. of sal-soda with 1/4 lb. of chloride of lime in 2 quarts of boiling water. When the substances have dissolved as much as they will, and become cool and settled, pour off the clear liquid and bottle it for use. Be careful not to allow any of the solid portions to pass into the bottle. Use the dregs for scouring unpainted woodwork, or to cleanse waste pipes. When a spot is found on a white tablecloth place under it an inverted plate. Apply Javelle water with a soft tooth brush (the use of the brush protects the skin and the nails). Rub gently till the stain disappears, then rinse in clear water and finally in ammonia. Blood stains require clear cold or tepid water; hot water and soap render the red coloring matter less soluble. When the stain is nearly gone soap and hot water may be used. Stains from meat juice should be treated in the same way. When blood is mixed with mucous, as in the case of handkerchiefs, it is well to soak the stains for some hours in a solution of salt and cold water--2 tablespoonfuls to a quart. Grass stains dissolve in alcohol. If applied immediately, ammonia and water will sometimes wash them out. The following methods have proved successful, and may be tried where colors are likely to be affected by alcohol. Molasses, or a paste of soap and cooking soda may be spread over the stain and left for some hours, or the stain may be kept moist in the sunshine until the green color has changed to brown, when it will wash out in pure water. Mildew requires different treatment from any previously considered. Strong soap suds, a layer of soft soap and pulverized chalk, or one of chalk and salt, are all effective, if in addition the moistened cloth be subjected to strong sunlight, which kills the plant and bleaches the fibre. Javelle water may be tried in cases of advanced growth, but success is not always assured. Some of the animal and vegetable oils may be taken out by soap and cold water, or dissolved in naphtha, chloroform, ether, etc. Some of the vegetable oils are soluble in hot alcohol (care being taken that the temperature be not raised to the point of igniting). Vaseline stains should be soaked in kerosene before water and soap touch them. Ink spots on white goods are the same in character as on colored fabrics. Where the ink is an iron compound, the stain may be treated with oxalic, muriatic or hot tartaric acid, applied in the same manner as for iron rust stains. No definite rule can be given, for some inks are affected by strong alkalies, others by acids, while some will dissolve in clear water. Red iron rust spots must be treated with acid. Fill an earthen dish two-thirds full of hot water and stretch the stained cloth over this. Have two other dishes with clear water in one and ammonia water in the other. The steam from the hot water will furnish the heat and moisture favorable for chemical action. Drop a little muriatic acid on the stain; let it remain a moment, then lower the cloth into the clear water. Repeat until the stain disappears. Rinse carefully in the clear water and finally immerse in the ammonia water, that any excess of acid may be neutralized and the fabric protected. Salt and lemon juice are often sufficient for a slight stain. Many spots appear upon white goods, which resemble those made by iron rust, or the fabrics themselves acquire a yellowish tinge. This is the result of the use of blueing and soap, where the clothes have been imperfectly rinsed. Therefore, if all dirt is removed, and the clothes thoroughly rinsed from all soap or alkalies used in removing the dirt, and exposed for a long time to air and sunshine, the use of blueing is unnecessary. In cities, where conveniences for drying and bleaching in the sunshine are few, a thorough bleaching two or three times a year is a necessity; but in the country it is wiser to abolish all use of blueing and let the sun, in its action with moisture and the oxygen of the air, keep the clothes white and pure. Freezing aids in bleaching, for it retains the moisture upon which the sun can act so much longer. When clean grass, dew and sunshine are not available, use a bleaching powder. Directions for the use of the powder usually accompany the can in which it is bought. Care must be taken to completely rinse out the acid present in the powder. Grease is more quickly acted upon by hot water than by cold, but other organic matter is fixed by the hot water. An effective method is to soak thoroughly the most soiled portion of the clothes, fold these together towards the centre, roll the whole tightly and soak in cold water. The water should just cover the articles. In this way the soap is kept where it is most needed, and not washed away before it has done its work. When the clothes are unrolled, the dirt may be washed out with less rubbing. Too long soaking, when a strong soap is used, will weaken the fabric. Whether to boil clothes or not, depends largely upon the purity of the materials used and the care exercised. Many feel that the additional disinfection which boiling insures, is an element of cleanness not to be disregarded, while others insist that boiling yellows the clothes. This yellowness may be caused by impure material in the soap, the deposit of iron from the water or the boiler; the imperfect washing of the clothes, that is, the organic matter is not thoroughly removed. The safer process is to put the clothes into cold water, with little or no soap, let the temperature rise gradually to boiling point and remain there for a few minutes. Soap is more readily dissolved by hot than by cold water, hence the boiling should help in the complete removal of the soap, and should precede the rinsing. One tablespoonful of borax to every gallon of water added to each boilerful, serves as a bleacher and disinfectant. Scalding or pouring boiling water over the clothes is not so effectual for their disinfection as boiling, because the temperature is so quickly lowered. The main points in laundry cleansing seem to be: (1) The removal of all stains; (2) Soft water and a good quality of soap; (3) The use of alkalies in solution only; (4) Not too hot nor too much water, while the soap is acting on the dirt; (5) Thorough rinsing, that all alkali may be removed; (6) Long exposure to sunlight, the best bleacher and disinfectant. WASHING OF WOOLLENS. All wool goods require the greatest care in washing. The different waters used should be of the same temperature, and never too hot to be borne comfortably by the hands. Soap should always be used in the form of a solution. No soap should be rubbed on the fabric, and only a good white soap, free from resin, or a soft potash soap is allowable. Make each water slightly soapy, and leave a very little in the fabric at the last rinsing, in order to furnish a dressing as nearly like the original as possible. Ammonia or borax is sometimes used in preference to soap. For pure white flannel borax is the most satisfactory, on account of its bleaching quality. Only enough of any alkali should be used to make the water very soft. Wool fibres collect much dust, and should therefore be thoroughly brushed or shaken before the fabric is put into the water. Woollen fabrics should be cleansed by squeezing, and not by rubbing. Wool should not be wrung by hand. Either run the fabric smoothly through a wringer or squeeze the water out, so that the fibres may not become twisted. Woollen articles may be dried more quickly by rolling the article tightly in a thick, dry towel or sheet, and squeezing the whole till all moisture is absorbed. Shake the article thoroughly before placing to dry. Woollen goods should not be allowed to freeze, for the teeth become knotted and hard. COLORED COTTONS. Colored cottons should have their colors fixed before washing. Salt will set most colors, but the process must be repeated at each washing. Alum sets the colors permanently, and at the same time renders the fabric less combustible, if used in strong solution after the final rinsing. Dish cloths and dish towels must be kept clean as a matter of health, as well as a necessity for clean, bright tableware. The greasy dish cloth furnishes a most favorable field for the growth of germs. It must be washed with soap and hot water and dried thoroughly each time. All such cloths should form part of the weekly wash and receive all the disinfection possible, with soap, hot water and long drying in the sunshine and open air. Beware of the disease-breeding, greasy, damp, dish cloth hung in a warm, dark place. Oven towels, soiled with soot, etc., may be soaked over night in just enough kerosene to cover, then washed in cold water and soap. Laundry tubs should be carefully washed and dried. Wooden tubs, if kept in a dry place, should be turned upside down, and have the bottoms covered with a little water. The rubber rollers of the wringer may be kept clean and white by rubbing them with a clean cloth and a few drops of kerosene (coal oil). All waste pipes, from that of the kitchen sink to that of the refrigerator, become foul with grease, lint, dust and other organic matters which are the result of bacterial action. They are sources of contamination to the air of the entire house and to the food supply, thereby endangering health. All bath, wash basin and water-closet pipes should be flushed generously (as stated in a previous chapter) once a day at least. The kitchen sink pipe and laundry pipes should have a thorough cleaning with a strong boiling solution of washing soda daily, and a monthly flushing with crude potash. The soda solution should be used for cleansing the drain pipe of the refrigerator. * * * * * CARING FOR INVALIDS. One of the first considerations in caring for an invalid is the ventilation of the sick room. Care must be taken that the air is not vitiated by anything in the room, such as a kerosene lamp, wilted cut flowers, soiled clothing, etc. The bed should be so arranged as to avoid a draft--especially when airing the room. If the room is too small to allow this, a very good way to protect the patient is to raise an umbrella and place it over the head and shoulders; over this put a blanket while the room is being aired; allowing it to remain until the room has reached the desired temperature again. Never turn the wick of a lamp below the point of free combustion in the room of either sick or well, as the odor is not only disagreeable but injurious. One of the most important essentials in a sick room is perfect cleanliness of the room, the bed linen and clothing of the patient. Never air or dry cloths or garments in the sick room. Cover the broom with a damp flannel cloth in sweeping, so as to avoid noise and prevent the dust from rising. Avoid noise in placing coal on the fire by putting the coal in a paper bag, placing bag and all upon the fire. Do not allow loud talking or discussion in the sick room; neither is whispering desirable, as it is apt to irritate the patient. Do not consult the patient about the food, but see that tempting, wholesome varieties are provided, in accordance with the doctor's orders concerning the diet. Serve food in small quantities, and either hot or cold, as the article may require. A warm dish which should be hot, and a tepid drink, or food, which should be cold, is one of the most objectionable and unappetizing forms of serving food. Do not allow fresh fruit, which is intended for the patient, to remain in the sick room, but keep in a cool place and serve when needed. Never visit a sick room when in a violent perspiration or with an empty stomach, as the system at that time is more susceptible to contagion. One of the most important qualifications in a nurse is a thorough knowledge of the nature, use and digestibility, as well as the best methods of preparing the different kinds of food, so as to adapt them to the different forms of disease. In some cases, when the system has been overtaxed, either mentally or physically, a complete rest is necessary, and the diet should be food which merely satisfies the hunger--neither stimulating nor especially nourishing. Such foods come under the head of gruels, soups, jellies, fruit and drinks. On the other hand when a patient has become wasted from a long continued illness and requires building up, more nourishment is required to supply the waste. In some cases the food must be given in concentrated form. Milk is one of the most valuable foods in this class; sometimes it requires the addition of a little pepsin in order to facilitate digestion; sometimes the addition of a pinch of salt makes milk not only more agreeable to the patient, but aids digestion. Eggs, either lightly boiled or in egg-nog, are easily digested and very nourishing. Meat and milk soups, farina and oatmeal gruel, port wine jelly, albumen and milk (which is the white of egg and milk shaken together), and in some cases a bit of carefully broiled steak or chop, with dry toast, are suitable foods for this class of patient. In convalescence, any well cooked, easily digested food may be given. Fried food, rich puddings and pastry must be carefully avoided. People with consumptive tendencies should eat wholesome, easily digested food, with plenty of fat, such as cream, butter, fat of bacon and of roast beef, mutton, olive oil, salads, cornmeal and cereals, and take plenty of outdoor exercise. Soups which have in them cream or milk are better for invalids than those containing a greater amount of gelatine. A few simple recipes are given, which are suitable for invalids. BEVERAGES. _Barley Water._--Take 2 ounces of pearl barley and wash well with cold water at least 2 or 3 times. Put into a saucepan with 1-1/2 pint of water, and allow it to boil for 20 minutes closely covered. Strain and sweeten, and flavor with lemon juice; a little lemon peel may be added while boiling if desired. _Apple Water._--Take 2 or 3 tart apples. After baking, put them in a bowl and pour over them 1 cup of boiling water, strain and sweeten to taste; serve when cold. _Flax Seed Tea._--One-half cupful of flax seed--which has been carefully washed in cold water--to 1 quart of boiling water; boil slowly 30 minutes, move to the back of the stove and allow it to remain 10 or 15 minutes longer. Strain, and flavor to taste with lemon juice and sugar. _Lemonade._--Slice 1 lemon, add 1 tablespoonful of sugar, press the lemon and sugar, add 1 cup of boiling water. Strain and serve hot or cold as required. _Orange Water._--Made the same as lemonade. MEAT EXTRACTIVES. _Beef Juice_ is prepared by broiling until the meat is heated through, then placing it in a lemon squeezer and pressing until all the juice is extracted. Heat until warm enough to be palatable, add a little salt, and by way of variety it may be poured over a slice of hot dry toast. _Beef Tea._--Cut juicy pieces of steak--the round steak is the best--into small pieces, cover with cold water and heat gradually to 160 F. Allow it to remain at this temperature 10 or 15 minutes. Press, strain, and flavor with salt and pepper. _Beef Tea_ (_No. 2_).--Put a pound of finely minced beef into a glass fruit jar, add a pint of cold water. Let it stand for an hour, stirring and pressing occasionally. Place the jar in a kettle of water; place over the fire and allow the water to reach boiling point. Move back where the water will just simmer for an hour, keeping the jar closely covered. Strain the beef tea through a fine wire strainer; allowing the fine sediment to pass through, which should be drunk with the liquid. Flavor with salt. (For an especially strong beef stimulant, see recipe for Bouillon, in a former chapter.) _Beef Essence._--(This method is highly recommended.) One ounce of finely chopped fresh beef, free from fat; pour over it 8 ounces of soft water, add 5 or 6 drops of dilute hydrochloric acid, and 50 or 60 grains of common salt, stir well, and leave for 3 hours in a cool place. Strain the fluid through a hair sieve, pressing the meat slightly; adding gradually toward the end of the straining, 2 ounces of water. The liquid is of a bright red color, tasting like soup. It should be served cold, in a small quantity at a time. If preferred warm it must not be put on the fire, but heated in a covered vessel placed in hot water. _Chicken Broth._--Singe and clean a small chicken. One-half of the chicken may be used for broth, and the other half for broiling or a fricassee. Disjoint, and cut the meat into small pieces. Break or crush the bones. Dip the feet into boiling water and scald until the skin and nails will peel off (as the feet contain gelatin). Cover the meat, feet and bones with cold water; heat very slowly, and simmer till the meat is tender. A few minutes before removing from the fire add salt and pepper to taste, also 1/2 teaspoonful of sugar. Strain, and when cool remove the fat. When needed, heat the necessary quantity, and if desired very clear add the shell and white of 1 egg. Let this boil slowly 3 or 4 minutes. Skim and strain through a fine cloth. A little lemon juice may be added to vary the flavor. This may be poured into small cups and kept in a cool place; or if the patient can take it some of the breast meat may be cut into small pieces and moulded with it. If the broth is served hot, it should not be cleared with the egg. _Mutton Broth._--Chop 1 pound of lean, juicy mutton very fine; pour over it 1 pint of cold water. Let it stand until the water is very red, then heat it slowly. Allow it to simmer 10 minutes. Strain, season, and if liked thick, 2 tablespoonfuls of soft boiled rice may be added; or it may be thickened with a little cornstarch wet with cold water and stirred into the hot broth. Serve very hot. If there is not enough time to cool the broth and reheat, the fat may be removed by using a piece of tissue, coarse brown or blotting paper, which, by passing over the surface, will remove any fat which cannot be taken off with a spoon. _Oatmeal Gruel._--To 1 quart of boiling water add 2 tablespoonfuls of oatmeal, salt to taste. Boil 1 hour, strain and serve with or without milk. Another method is to cover the oatmeal with cold water. Stir well; let it settle, then pour off the mealy water into a saucepan. Then boil the water. _Egg Soup._--Put 1 ounce of sago with 1/2 pint of milk into a double boiler, and cook 20 minutes. Strain through a sieve and add 1/2 pint of beef extract (or Bouillon). When hot take it from the fire and stir gradually into it the yolks (well beaten) of 2 eggs. Season to taste, and serve. Chicken or mutton broth may be used. _Albumen and Milk._--Put the white of 1 egg into 1/2 pint of milk. Pour into a pint fruit jar, screw on the top tightly and shake well for 1 minute, when it should be light and smooth. Serve at once. A pinch of salt may be added if desired. _Egg-Nog._--Beat 1 egg until very light, add 2 teaspoonfuls of sugar, and beat again; add 2/3 cup of cold milk, mix well, and if ordered, 2 teaspoonfuls of brandy may be added. A pinch of salt added to the yolk of the egg makes it more palatable. _Orange Soup._--Soak the juice of an orange, 1/3 of the grated rind, and 1 teaspoonful of lemon juice for 1/2 hour. Strain, and make the liquid up to a cupful with water. Bring to boiling point and add two level teaspoonfuls of arrowroot, moistened with a very little cold water, stirring constantly until it thickens. When it reaches the boiling point, add 1 tablespoonful of sugar, turn into a bowl and stand away to cool. Serve very cold. (Any tart fruit juice may be used for this soup.) _Arrowroot Gruel._--Dissolve 2 level teaspoonfuls of arrowroot in a little cold water, add 1 cup of boiling water, cook for a few seconds; take from the fire, add a tablespoonful of sugar, 1 tablespoonful of lemon juice. (One egg may be beaten, white and yolk separately, until very light, mix them carefully and pour over the egg slowly one pint of hot arrowroot gruel, made as above; stir until well mixed.) _Rice Water or Jelly._--Pick over and wash carefully 2 tablespoonfuls of rice, and cook in water until the rice is dissolved. Add salt and sugar to taste. If intended to jelly, add lemon juice and strain into a mould. Serve cold with cream and sugar. If to be used as a drink, add enough hot water to make a thin liquid, and boil longer. A little stick cinnamon may be added a few minutes before straining. Serve hot or cold. _Stewed Figs._--Take some choice figs, wash, then cover them with cold water. Soak over night. In the morning bring them to boiling point, and keep them over the fire, just simmering for 20 minutes, or until the figs are plump and soft. Lift them out carefully, and boil down the liquor until it forms a syrup. Pour this over the figs and serve cold. Whipped or plain cream may be served with them. _Jellied Chicken._--Take a young, tender chicken. Prepare and disjoint it as for a fricassee. Put a bay leaf, a stock of celery about 4 inches long, and 2 whole pepper corns in the bottom of a bowl. Then put in the chicken. Stand the bowl in a pot of boiling water, being careful that the steam shall not drip, or the water boil over into the chicken. Cover the pot closely and keep the water boiling until the meat is tender enough to allow the bones to slip out. Remove the skin and bones and put the remainder of the chicken into a pint bowl or mould. Season the remaining liquor with salt, and strain over the meat. Stand in a cool place to harden. (Do not add water to the chicken when cooking.) _Raw Meat Sandwiches._--Three ounces of raw beef, which may be chopped very fine and rubbed through a hair sieve or scraped from a slice of steak. Mix with it 1 ounce of fine bread crumbs, 1 teaspoonful of sugar, pepper and salt to taste. Spread it between thin slices of brown or white bread and butter. (A few drops of lemon juice may be added if the flavor is liked.) _Broiled Steak, Hamburg Steak, Broiled White Fish, Stews, Etc._ (See recipes in preceding chapters.) * * * * * A FEW GENERAL HINTS FOR SCHOOL CHILDREN. "Too much attention cannot be given by parents to the diet of school children, or by teachers to the diet of pupils under their care in boarding schools and colleges. The average age of school children is from six to sixteen years. During this time both mind and body are undergoing development. Throughout school period the growth of the body is continued until almost completed. There are unusual demands, therefore, upon the functions of absorption and assimilation. The food must be abundant, and of the character to furnish new tissue, and to yield energy in the form of heat and muscular activity. The food should also contain salts of lime to meet the requirements of formation of the bones and teeth. Many children acquire habits of dislike for certain articles of food, which become so fixed in later life that they find it very inconvenient, especially when placed in circumstances, as in travelling, where one cannot always obtain the accustomed diet; it therefore is unwise to cultivate such habits, which are often a serious obstacle to normal development. "A physician is often baffled in the treatment of a severe disease by the vitiated taste of the patient. Many cases of anæmia and chlorosis, which are so commonly seen in young girls, are directly traceable to a faulty diet. It should be the imperative duty of all teachers to consider the responsibility of rightly developing the physical constitutions of those entrusted to their care. They should remember that the mind keeps on developing long after the body, and that the period under discussion is one in which the constitution of the individual is established for the remainder of life. At this stage success in digestion and assimilation is of greater importance than success in mental attainments." (Thompson.) An important consideration in school diet is to avoid monotony, which becomes so common from economic reasons, or more often from carelessness. It is so much easier to yield to routine and force of habit than to study the question. The hours for study and for meals should be so regulated that sufficient time will be allowed before each meal for children to wash and prepare themselves comfortably without going to the table excited by hurry, and they should be required to remain at the table for a fixed time, and not allowed to hastily swallow their food in order to complete an unfinished task or game. An interval of at least half an hour should intervene after meals before any mental exertion is required. Constant nibbling at food between meals should be forbidden; it destroys the appetite, increases the saliva, and interferes with gastric digestion. The habit of chewing gum cannot be too strongly condemned, both for the reason given in the preceding sentence and for its effect upon the muscles and nerves. It is being more and more realized by the public in general, that the breaking down of health at school is more often due to impoverished nutrition than to overwork. Delicate children should not be allowed too long intervals between meals, as for instance, the evening meal at six o'clock and breakfast the following morning at seven or half past. A glass of milk and a piece of whole wheat bread and butter should be given--if they awaken--during the night. Delicate children whose appetites are poor, and who do not do proper justice to their regular meals, should be given an extra allowance of hot broth or hot milk with bread and butter, between meals. These rules are applicable in cases of children who, during one or two years, seem to develop with extraordinary rapidity, growing sometimes two inches or more in six months. The demands of this rapid growth must be met by proper nutrition, or serious subsequent impairment of vitality may result. Such children should have their meals made tempting by good cooking and pleasant variety, as well as an agreeable appearance of the food. Meat which is carved in unsightly masses and vegetables which are sodden and tasteless will be refused, and an ill attempt is made to supply the deficiency in proper food by eating indigestible candy, nuts, etc. Children often have no natural liking for meat, and prefer puddings, pastry or sweets when they can obtain them; it is therefore more important that meat and other wholesome foods should be made attractive to them at the age when they need it. * * * * * SUGGESTIONS FOR SCHOOL CHILDREN'S DIET. If early rising is insisted upon, a child should never be set at any task before breakfast, especially in winter; and if it is not expedient to serve a full breakfast at half-past six or seven, the child should be given a bowl of milk and bread, a cup of cocoa with a roll or other light food. Breakfast may be served later, after the first exercises of the morning, and should consist of porridge of wheaten grits, hominy, fish, eggs, fruit (raw or cooked), bread and butter. Dinner, which should always be served near the middle of the day, should comprise meat, potatoes, one or two green vegetables, some form of light pudding or sweet. Supper, it is generally admitted, should comprise easily digested articles of food; such substances as pastry, cheese and meats are better omitted; it should consist of a porridge, with milk or cream, or a light, farinacious pudding of rice, tapioca or sago, with bread and butter, and some simple form of preserve, stewed apples or prunes, or very light, plain cake. A good bowl of nutritious broth--or soup--with bread or crackers, may be substituted for the porridge or pudding. It will sometimes be found best to serve this meal at seven or half-past seven o'clock; in this case the child should be given a slice of bread and butter or a glass of milk (drinking it slowly), at half-past four or five. Some of the more important articles of school diet require special mention; the following extract from Dr. Thompson's Practical Dietetics may prove helpful:-- _Bread._--"Bread, as a rule, should be made of whole meal, but must not be too coarse. The advantage of this bread for children consists in its containing a larger proportion of salts, which they need, than is found in refined white flour, and butter should be freely served with it to supply the deficiency of fats which exist in meat. Children need fat, but they do not digest meat fat well, as a rule, and are very apt to dislike it. They will often take suet pudding, however, when hot mutton fat wholly disagrees with them." _Milk._--"Milk should be freely supplied, not only in the form of puddings and porridges, but as an occasional beverage, and children should be made to understand that when hungry, they can obtain a glass of milk, or a bowl of crackers or bread and milk, for the asking. Chambers says, 'The best lunch that a growing young man can have is a dish of roast potatoes, well buttered and peppered, and a draft of milk.'" _Meat._--"Meat may be given twice a day, but not oftener. It may sometimes be advisable to give it but once a day when fish or eggs are supplied; it should, however, be given at least once daily, to rapidly growing children." _Sweets._--"The greater number of children have a natural craving for sweets." The energy developed in active childhood necessitates the consumption of a larger proportion of sugar than is required by adults. The craving of children for confections, candy, etc., furnishes a true indication of the actual requirements of nature, and it must be admitted that a certain amount of wholesome candy not only does most children no harm, but may serve them as an excellent food. The main difficulty with such forms of sugar, however, is that children are not furnished with a proper proportion of sugar with their meals, and the meals themselves are not so regulated as to prevent their becoming very hungry between times; consequently, if they can obtain candy, which satisfies them for the time, they are very apt to eat too much, with the result of producing more or less dyspepsia and diminishing the normal appetite. Alcohol in every form should be absolutely excluded. If given during early youth, it is particularly prone to develop a taste which may become uncontrollable in later years. (Children should not indulge in tea and coffee.) _Exercise._--As a general rule, active muscular exercise in children disturbs their digestive process far less than mental effort, when taken immediately after meals; and every adult is familiar with the romping which children can undertake straightway after dinner, often, though not always, with impunity, whereas a proportionate amount of exercise on the part of an adult might produce a severe dyspeptic attack. Much of the headache and inattention of pupils during school hours is the direct result of an ill-regulated diet, or from vitiated appetites. * * * * * INFANTS' DIET. One of the most important subjects included in a domestic science course of study is the feeding and care of infants. A subject requiring special intelligence and consideration; one which embodies the condensed information of the preceding chapters, and is the foundation upon which the future physical structure is built. It is not upon the mother alone that the baby depends for care and attention. Many young girls, especially elder sisters and nurse-maids, have this responsibility placed upon them when they are little more than children themselves. To these, as well as to young mothers, the following suggestions may prove helpful. The first demand of an infant is for food, and upon the quality and quantity of the article provided depends the health of the child, as well as the comfort of the household. Milk is the only food required by an infant until it is, at least, seven or eight months old, or until sufficient saliva is secreted to assist digestion; some authorities say one year, others until the child has sufficient teeth with which to masticate food. If nature's supply is not available, or sufficient, the best substitute is cow's milk. As cow's milk contains less sugar of milk, and fat (cream), than human milk, these must be supplied. Being more acid than alkaline, this must be corrected by the use of lime water. There is more casein (curd) in cow's milk than in mother's milk, therefore water must be added to reduce this. The following proportions have been submitted as a digestible form of preparing cow's milk for young infants (Dr. Meigs):-- Cream, 2 tbsps. Milk, 1 tbsp. Lime water, 2 tbsps. Milk-sugar water, 3 tbsps. One quarter of this amount to be given every two hours during the day, and once or twice at night. After the baby is a week old, the quantity may be increased to one-half at each meal; at two months the whole amount prepared may be given at once. The proportion of milk should be gradually increased, and the water and cream decreased, until at two months old the proportion should be:-- 3 tbsps. milk. 1 tbsp. cream. 1 tbsp. lime water. 3 tbsps. sugar water. When six months old the quantity of milk is doubled. It should be increased every day until ten tablespoonfuls are given at a feeding. BARLEY WATER. 2 tbsps. pearl barley. 1 pt. boiling water. Wash the barley carefully. Pour over it the boiling water. Let it simmer for two hours. Strain and sweeten with a pinch of sugar of milk. MILK-SUGAR WATER. 1/2 oz. sugar of milk. 1/2 pt. boiling water. Dissolve, and keep closely covered. It will not keep long, so should be made when required to use. LIME WATER. Take a lump of lime weighing about one ounce. Put in a bottle with a quart of cold water (which has been boiled). Shake the bottle well until the lime is dissolved, and let it stand for 12 hours. Pour the clear liquid into another bottle, being careful not to disturb the sediment. Keep carefully corked. Water will only absorb a certain quantity of lime, so there is no danger of its being too strong. As cow's milk is more difficult to digest than mother's milk, it is sometimes necessary to substitute barley water in place of the lime water and milk, using the same amount of cream as given in recipe. MALTED FOOD. 2 oz. wheat flour or barley meal. 1-3/4 qts. water. 1 tsp. extract of malt. Mix the flour to a paste with a little water, gradually add a quart of the water; put it in a double boiler and boil 10 minutes. Dissolve the malt extract in 4 tbsps. of the water (cold). Lift out the inner vessel and add the malt and remainder of the cold water. Let it stand 15 minutes, replace, and boil again for 15 minutes. Strain through a wire gauze strainer. (Half this quantity may be made.) This preparation is used when both barley water and lime-water disagree. It must always be given with milk. It prevents the large tough curds forming, which is such an objectionable feature in using cow's milk. PEPTONIZED MILK. In cases of especially weak digestion it may be necessary to peptonize the milk, which may be done as follows: Add 5 grains of extract of pancreas and 15 grains of baking soda to 1 pint of milk. (Tablets of pancreatin and soda may be used.) After adding the peptonizing material put the milk in a double boiler or in a vessel which may be set in a larger one, holding water, as hot as the hand can bear being dipped into quickly, or about 115° Fah. Leave the milk in the hot water about 20 minutes, then place on the ice. If heated too long the milk will taste bitter. The preparation given in recipe No. 1, or with the barley water added, may be peptonized. STERILIZED OR PASTEURIZED MILK. (_See Milk, Chapter V._) Put the amount of milk required for a meal into pint or half pint bottles, allowing for the number of times the child is to be fed in 24 hours. Use cotton batting as a stopper. Place a wire frame, or invert a perforated tin pie plate, in the bottom of a saucepan; stand the bottles on this, pour around them enough water to come well above the milk, cover the saucepan or kettle, and when the water boils lift the saucepan from the fire and allow the bottles to remain in the hot water for 1 hour. Keep in the ice box or stand them in cold water until needed. If milk is to be used during a long journey it will be necessary to repeat the above operation three times, letting the milk cool between each time. Unless the milk is perfectly fresh, and has been handled with great care, it is safer to sterilize or pasteurize it. The former, if any doubt is entertained as to the quality of the milk, the latter in every case. TEMPERATURE OF FOOD. Food should be "milk warm," or about 99° Fah., when given to a baby. Hot food is very injurious. NURSING BOTTLES AND FEEDING. Have two plain bottles with rubber tops, _without tubes_. Bottles with ounces and tablespoonfuls marked on them can be purchased, and are a great convenience in measuring the amount of food required. After using the bottle, empty the remaining milk; rinse in cold water, then in _scalding water_. If particles of milk adhere to the bottle use coarse salt or raw potato cut in small pieces. If the glass looks cloudy, add a little ammonia to the water. Turn the rubber tops inside out and scrub with a stiff brush; boil them every alternate day for 10 minutes. _Absolute cleanliness is a necessity_ in the care of a baby's food, bottles and rubber tops. The bottle should be held, while the baby is feeding, in such a position that the top is full of milk. If air is sucked in with the milk stomach-ache will likely result. Starchy food should not be given to a child until it is able to masticate. (See digestion of starch, Chap. VIII.) Arrowroot, cornstarch, rice, etc., _must not be given to infants_. FLOUR BALL. Put a bowlful of flour into a strong cloth, tie it up like a pudding, and place it in a kettle of boiling water. Boil for 10 or 12 hours. When boiled turn it out of the cloth and cut away the soft outside coating. When cool, grate the hard inside portion and use a teaspoonful at each feeding, for a baby 8 months old, increasing the amount for an older child. This may be prepared in the same manner as cornstarch or flour. The long boiling converts the starch into dextrine, which is more easily digested than starch. This is especially valuable in cases of diarrhoea, and may be used instead of barley gruel as a food. OATMEAL GRUEL. Pound a cupful of oatmeal in a pestle or on a bread board. Put in a bowl and pour over it 1 pint of cold water. Stir it up, then let the mixture settle for a few minutes. Pour off the milky fluid, repeat this process. Boil this water for an hour, adding a pinch of salt, and use it to dilute the milk instead of water. A thicker gruel may be made from oatmeal by allowing 1 tablespoonful to a cup of boiling water. Let it boil 1 hour, then strain through a wire strainer. FARINA GRUEL. 1 tbsp. farina. 2 cups boiling water. A spk. of salt. Cook for 20 minutes; use as directed for oatmeal. BEEF JUICE. (_See page 145._) _Beef juice_ is sometimes ordered for delicate babies. For a child 9 months old, 1 or 2 tablespoonfuls may be given once a day. ALBUMINIZED FOOD. When milk cannot be taken, albuminized food proves an excellent substitute. Shake the white of 1 egg with 1/2 a pint of water (filtered or boiled and cooled) in a glass jar until they are thoroughly mixed. Add a few grains of salt. Children do not require a great variety in their food. Give one article of diet at a time and see how it agrees before trying another. After a child is a year old the various cereals may be given as porridge instead of gruel, with the addition of a little sugar. Remember, all cereals should be thoroughly cooked (see page 83). BISCUITS. Gluten, soda, oatmeal or Graham biscuits may be soaked in milk or given alone. Do not give the fancy or sweet biscuits to young children. EGGS. A properly boiled egg (see page 69) may be given every alternate day to a child 1 year old. JUNKET. Junket is much better for young children than custards or puddings, and sometimes agrees well with babies. Take 1 pint of milk, heat it to 98° Fah., or milk warm. Add 1 teaspoonful of rennet and 1 teaspoonful of sugar. Stir all together and let it stand in a warm place until it becomes as thick as jelly. Remove at once to a cool place or whey will appear. BAKED POTATOES. Potatoes should not be given to a child under 2 years old in any other form than baked. The potash salts are the most valuable constituent, and are lost when they are peeled and boiled. They should be dry and mealy. A little salt, butter or cream should be added. MACARONI. (_See page 85._) Macaroni is an excellent food for young children. FRUIT. Baked apples and the juice of an orange are the only fruits which should be given to children under two years of age. RICE. Rice is an excellent food for young children, but not for infants. VENTILATION. Foul air is injurious to grown persons, but it is infinitely more dangerous to the sensitive organization of a child. Therefore special attention should be given to the ventilation of rooms occupied by a baby (see page 132). Fresh air, wholesome food, regular bathing, and plenty of sleep will insure the normal growth of the average baby, and are within reach of every one who has the care of young children. The writer is indebted to Miss Scovil, Superintendent of Newport Hospital, and one of the associate editors of the _Ladies' Home Journal_, for many of the above hints concerning the diet of infants. EMERGENCIES. As frequent accidents occur during the performance of household duties, a few suggestions as to how slight injuries should be treated may prove useful to the young housekeeper. _Cuts._--A cut should be washed with cold water, covered with a small pad of cotton, bound up, and left alone. Should matter form, the bandage must be taken off, the wound bathed with carbolized water, 1-80, and a little carbolized vaseline spread on a bit of linen and laid over it. The washing and dressing should be repeated two or three times a day if there is much discharge. _Bruises._--A flannel wrung out of very hot water, and laid on a bruise, relieves the soreness. For bruises on the face, apply ice. Brown paper wet in vinegar is an old-fashioned remedy. If the skin is broken, treat as a wound, with carbolized water and carbolized vaseline. _Sprains._--Both hot and cold treatment is recommended. Immerse the joint in water as hot as can be borne. Keep up the temperature by gradually adding more hot water. Let it soak for an hour or more. Then wrap in warm flannel, and surround with hot water bags or bottles. _Stings._--Bathe the part in ammonia, or baking soda and water; wet a cloth in the same, and bind over it. _Burns._--The best household remedies for burns are baking soda and carbolized vaseline. For slight burns mix the soda to a paste with water, and spread thickly over the part; cover with linen or old cotton. This may be kept wet by squeezing water over it. If shreds of clothing adhere to a burn, they should be soaked with oil, and not pulled off until softened. If the skin is gone, spread carbolized vaseline on linen, and bind on the part until the doctor arrives. In burns caused by acids, water should not be applied to the parts. Cover with dry baking soda. If caused by an alkali, such as lye, ammonia, or quick-lime, use an acid, as vinegar or lemon juice, diluted. _Poisoning._--For poison ivy, saturate a cloth in a solution of baking soda, or ammonia and water, and lay over the part. When poison has been swallowed, the first thing to do is to get it out of the stomach. Secondly, to prevent what remains from doing more mischief. Give an emetic at once. One tbsp. of salt in a glass of _tepid_ water; 1 tsp. of mustard, or 1 tsp. of powdered alum in a glass of tepid water. A tsp. of wine of ipecac, followed by warm water. Repeat any of these three or four times if necessary. The quantities given are for children; larger doses may be given to adults. It is well to give a dose of castor oil after the danger is over, to carry off any remnants of the poison that may have lodged in the intestines. After a poison has burned the mouth and throat, plenty of milk may be given, also flour, arrowroot, or cornstarch gruel. For drowning and other serious accidents, see Public School Physiology. FURNISHING A CLASS-ROOM. The furnishing of a class-room should be so complete that each pupil should be able to attend to the appointed task without delay. The furniture should consist of a stove, or range, gas stove if more convenient, a hot water tank or boiler, sink, table (side), towel rack, 2 dozen chairs, or seats with tablet arms, a cupboard or kitchen "dresser" for table ware, a large cupboard or arrangement for lockers, in which caps, aprons, etc., should be kept, a large table--horseshoe shape is the most satisfactory--with drawers, and space for rolling pin, bread board, etc., underneath. The table should be large enough to allow at least 2 ft. 6 in. for each pupil. Twenty pupils is the limit of a practice class. On the table should be placed at regular intervals, 10 gas burners with frame. The teacher's table should stand in the opening at the end of the table so that she may see each pupil while at work, and when demonstrating may be seen by each pupil. The following list of utensils will be found sufficient for practice work for a class of 20 pupils. EARTHEN, CHINA AND GLASS WARE. 1 dinner set. 2 quart pitchers. 2 pint pitchers. 2 small oval baking dishes. 2 small round baking dishes. 4 4-quart bowls, with lips. 6 2-quart bowls, with lips. 4 1-quart bowls. 12 baking cups. 6 kitchen cups. 2 small platters. 2 medium size platters. 2 deep pie plates. 6 shallow pie plates. 2 jelly moulds. 1 teapot. 1 dozen quart gem jars. 1 dozen pint gem jars. 6 4-quart stone jars or crocks. 1 dozen fancy plates, and glass dishes for serving. WOODENWARE. 1 wash-board. 12 small bread boards. 12 rolling pins. 2 chopping trays. 2 potato mashers. 1 potato ricer. 1 water pail. 1 scrubbing pail. 1 pail or bucket for refuse. 1 flour bucket, with cover. 6 wooden spoons--small. 1 2-gallon ice cream freezer. 1 broom. 1 whisk-broom. 1 crumb pan and brush. 1 floor scrubbing brush. 6 small scrubbing brushes. 1 stove brush. 1 pastry brush. 1 small refrigerator. Spice boxes. Dish mops. Lemon squeezers, etc. AGATE WARE. 4 double boilers. 2 4-quart kettles. 2 2-quart saucepans. 4 1-quart saucepans. 4 pt. saucepans. 2 oval pudding dishes. 1 4-quart preserving kettle. 1 hand basin. 1 tea kettle. IRON WARE. 1 spider. 1 griddle. 1 pan for meat. 1 pan for fish. 1 meat fork. 1 can opener. 1 meat cleaver. 2 wooden-handled spoons. 1 braising pan (cover). Scales, etc. TIN AND WIRE WARE. 2 large graters. 1 nutmeg grater. 12 flour dredges. 12 measuring cups. 1 funnel. 1 basting spoon. 1 wire broiler, for toast. 2 wire broilers, for steak. 1 wire soap dish. 3 Dover egg beaters. 3 small wire strainers. 1 large wire strainer. 1 flour scoop. 2 flour sifters. 1 gravy strainer. 1 colander. 2 dish pans. 2 2-qt. milk cans. 1 quart measure. 1 pint measure. 1 steamer. 6 small bread pans. 6 small jelly moulds. 1 set gem pans. 1 doz. muffin rings. 2 dustpans. 2 plain cake cutters. 1 doughnut cutter. 1 small biscuit cutter. 1 frying basket. 1 dipper. 2 long, shallow cake tins. 2 egg whisks. 1 round cake tin. 1 wire frame. 1 vegetable cutter. MISCELLANEOUS. 1 doz. dish towels. 2 floor cloths. 12 holders. Cheese cloth. Pudding cloth. Needles. Twine. Scissors. Skewers. Screw driver. Corkscrew. 1 doz. knives and forks. Hammer. Tacks and Nails. Ironing sheet and holder. Coal scuttle. Fire shovel. Coal sieve. Ash hod. Flat irons. Paper for cake tins. Wrapping paper. Small tub for laundry work. 6 tablespoons. 2 doz. teaspoons. While this may seem a formidable list, it will not be found expensive. Some of the above articles may be omitted and others substituted. It must be remembered that the utensils will be well cared for, consequently will last for many years. In country schools, or where gas is not available, oil stoves may be used. In some schools, where space is limited, one small table is used, two or more pupils demonstrating the lesson under the supervision of the teacher, the pupils taking this duty in alternation. The remainder of the class observe and take notes. The cost of material is trifling. It should not average more than fifty cents per pupil per annum, and for a large number should average less than this amount. The Boston school kitchens are, many of them, furnished at a cost of from $200 to $300. A fair average cost for Ontario should be about $175. * * * * * PLANNING AND SERVING MEALS. During the last quarter of school work each pupil should submit a typical menu for breakfast, dinner and supper, allowing for a certain number of people. Consider the occupation, and give reasons for the choice of food for each meal. State how long it should take to prepare the meal, and give the cost. Insist upon variety in menus, and request the pupil to describe how the meal should be served. _System_, neatness and promptness should be especially emphasized. Clean table linen--no matter how coarse--is possible for every one. A dish of fruit or flowers, if only a bunch of green foliage, improves the appearance of the table. During the school course a special lesson should be devoted to setting the table and serving meals, with and without a waitress, so as to give a knowledge of how a meal should be served, no matter what the pupil's position in life may be or what part she may have to perform. A FEW GENERAL HINTS ON SETTING THE TABLE. Although every housekeeper has her own method for serving meals, a few general principles govern all properly regulated service. When setting the table, cover first with a canton-flannel or felt cloth, in order to prevent noise and protect the table. Place each article in its proper place and not in a confused "jumble." See that the tablecloth is spread smoothly, that the corners are of equal length, that the crease--if the cloth has been folded instead of rolled--is exactly in the centre. Place the fruit or flowers in the centre of the table. For each person place knife, spoon and glass on the right, fork and napkin on the left. Place the glass at the point of the knife. Turn the edge of the knife towards the plate and the fork tines up, the spoon with the bowl up. If soup is to be served, place a square of bread or a roll on top of the napkin or between the folds. Place the pepper and salt at the corners of the table, unless individual salts are used, when they should be placed at the head of the plates, where the dessert spoon may be placed--the handle towards the right--for convenience. The general rule in serving simple family meals, with or without a waitress, is for the hostess to serve the porridge and coffee at breakfast; the soup, salad and dessert at dinner, and pour the tea at the evening meal. When luncheon is served in the middle of the day the hostess usually does the greater part of the serving, as luncheon is considered to be the most informal meal of the day. A FEW HINTS FOR WAITRESSES. Learn to move quickly and quietly. Be scrupulously clean and neat in every detail of dress and habit. Before serving a meal see that hands and finger nails are clean. Always have a fresh white apron ready to put on before the meal is announced. Look over the table and see that everything is in its place before announcing a meal. Fill the glasses with water either before the family enter the dining room or immediately after they are seated. Lift the covers from hot dishes and turn them over at once in order to prevent the steam from dropping on the cloth. Take the plate from the host or hostess, and place before each person from the right side--keep the thumb well under the plate. When passing anything from which the persons seated at table help themselves, such as vegetables, sauces, etc., always go to the left, so as to leave the right hand of the one to be served free. Keep a watchful eye over the table and pass anything apparently required. Learn to receive instructions from the hostess in an undertone. Do not get excited and try to do too many things at once. It is an accomplishment to be a good waitress, as it requires special refinement and deftness, which are scarcely compatible with an untidy nature. When serving meals without a waitress, the daughters of the house should consider it their special privilege to save the mother any annoyance or discomfort during the meal time. Never allow dishes, which have been used, to accumulate on the table or allow the table to become disordered. As much of the food as possible should be placed on the table before the family are seated, and the plates or dishes removed at once after using. No matter how simple the meal may be, every housekeeper should see that it is served neatly and on time. Teachers may exercise a far-reaching influence in the refining of home life by impressing upon the pupils the importance of these--too often considered--minor matters, and by giving minute instructions in the setting of table and serving the meal. One carefully planned _practice_ lesson will convey more knowledge of such matters than any number of lectures or pages of theory. * * * * * CONSIDERATION OF MENUS. The following menus and analyses are taken from bulletin No. 74, prepared in the United States Experiment Stations, and are inserted so as to give some idea of the cost and relative value of various foods in combination. _It must be remembered that the prices given are in excess of prices in Ontario, therefore the cost per menu would be less than is given in these illustrations._ The more expensive menus have been omitted. The writer of the article says:-- "In planning a well balanced diet the following points must be considered:-- (1) The use of any considerable amount of fat meat or starchy food should be offset by the use of some material rich in protein. Thus, if roast pork is to be eaten for dinner, veal, fish, or lean beef might well be eaten for breakfast or supper, or both. Bean soup furnishes a considerable amount of protein, while bouillon, consommé, and tomato soup are practically useless as a source of nutriment. Skim milk also furnishes protein, with but very little accompanying fats and carbohydrates to increase the fuel value. (2) The use of lean meats or fish for all three meals would require the use of such foods as rice, tapioca, or cornstarch pudding, considerable quantities of sugar and butter, and more vegetables, in order to furnish sufficient fuel value. (3) Since flour, sugar, and butter or lard enter very largely into pastries and desserts, the larger the quantities of these dishes that are consumed the larger does the fuel value tend to become as compared with the protein." The principal classes of food materials may be roughly grouped as follows as regards the proportion of protein to fuel value, beginning with those which have the largest proportion of protein and ending with those which contain little or no protein:-- Foods containing a large amount of protein as compared with the fuel value. Fish; veal; lean beef, such as shank, shoulder, canned corned, round, neck, and chuck; skim milk. Foods containing a medium amount of protein. Fowl; eggs; mutton leg and shoulder; beef, fatter cuts, such as rib, loin, rump, flank, and brisket; whole milk; beans and peas; mutton chuck and loin; cheese; lean pork; oatmeal and other breakfast foods; flour; bread, etc. Foods containing little or no protein. Vegetables and fruit; fat pork; rice; tapioca; starch; butter and other fats and oils; sugar, syrups. THE MENUS. To illustrate the ways in which milk may be combined with other food materials, to form daily dietaries with about the amount of protein and the fuel value called for by the standard for men at moderate muscular work, a few menus are given in the following pages. These menus are intended to show how approximately the same nutritive value may be obtained by food combinations differing widely as regards the number, kind, and price of the food materials used to make up three daily meals. They also illustrate how the cost of the daily menu may vary greatly with the kind and variety of materials purchased, though the nutritive value remains the same. These sample menus should not, however, be regarded as in any sense "models" to be followed in actual practice. The daily menus for any family will necessarily vary with the market supply, the season, and the relative expensiveness of different food materials, as well as with the tastes and purse of the consumers. The point to which we wish here to draw especial attention is that the prudent buyer of foods for family consumption can not afford to wholly neglect their nutritive value in making such purchases. With reference to the following daily menus, several points must be definitely borne in mind. (1) The amounts given represent about what would be called for in a family equivalent to four full-grown men at ordinary manual labor, such as machinists, carpenters, mill-workers, farmers, truckmen, etc., according to the usually accepted standards. Sedentary people would require somewhat less than the amounts here given. (2) Children as a rule may be considered as having "moderate muscular exercise," and it may easily be understood that the 14-year-old boy eats as much as his father who is engaged in business or professional occupation, both requiring, according to the tentative standard, 0.8 of the food needed by a man with moderate muscular work. (3) It is not assumed that any housewife will find it convenient to follow exactly the proportions suggested in the menus. The purpose is to show her about what amounts and proportions of food materials would give the required nutrients. A family equivalent to four men having little muscular exercise--_i.e._, men with sedentary occupation--would require but about 0.8 the quantities indicated in the following menus. It would be very doubtful, however, if they would eat proportionally less of every food material. It would, in fact, be more probable that the amounts of meat, fish, eggs, potatoes, and bread eaten would be reduced in a much greater proportion than fruit, pastry, coffee, etc. PECUNIARY ECONOMY OF MILK AND OTHER FOODS. _Amounts of actual nutrients obtained in different food materials for 10 cts._ _Food Material._ _Lbs. Oz._ Whole Milk, 10 cts. per qt. 2 0 " " 8 " 2 8 " " 7 " 2 14 " " 6 " 3 5 " " 5 " 4 0 " " 4 " 5 0 Skim " 3 " 6 11 Skim " 2 " 10 0 Butter, 24 cts. per lb. 0 7 Cheese, 16 " 0 10 Beef, round, 12 cts. per lb. 0 13 " sirloin, 18 " 0 9 Mutton, loin, 16 " 0 10 Pork, salt 12 " 0 13 Cod, salt 6 " 1 9 Eggs, 22 cts. per doz. 0 11 Oysters, 30 cts. per qt. 0 11 Potatoes, 60 cts. per bushel 10 0 Beans, dried, 8 cts. per qt. 2 8 Wheat flour, 3 cts. per lb. 3 5 MENU I.--_For family equivalent to 4 men at moderate muscular work._ ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | Fuel Food materials. | Weight. | Cost. | Protein.| Value. ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | _Breakfast._ |Lbs. Oz. | Cents. | Pounds. | Calories. | | | | Bananas, 4 (or grapes, | | | | 1 pound) | 1 4 | 6-1/2 | .009 | 362 Breakfast cereal | 4 |\ | / .031 | 421 Milk | 8 | > 3 |< .016 | 162 Sugar | 1-1/ 2|/ | \ ... | 175 Veal cutlets | 1 0 | 20 | .200 | 775 Potatoes | 1 0 | 1-1/2 | .018 | 325 Butter | 3 | 6 | ... | 653 Rolls | 12 | 4 | .077 | 1,148 Coffee | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+--------- Total | | 44-1/2 | .361 | 4,431 | | | | _Dinner._ | | | | | | | | Pea soup: | | | | Split peas | 8 |\ | / .121 | 820 Butter | 1 | > 5 |< ... | 217 Flour | 1 |/ | \ .007 | 103 Roast beef, chuck rib | 1 12 | 21 | .275 | 1,260 Potatoes | 1 4 | 1-1/3 | .022 | 406 Turnips | 8 | 1 | .005 | 67 Cottage pudding with | | | | lemon sauce: | | | | 1 cup flour | 4 |\ | / .028 | 410 Sugar | 3 | \ |/ ... | 350 Butter | 1-1/2 | / 6-1/2 |\ ... | 325 1 cup milk | 8 |/ | \ .016 | 162 Sugar | 4 |\ | / ... | 465 Cornstarch | 1-1/2 | > 2-1/2 |< ... | 172 Butter | 1/2 |/ | \ ... | 108 Coffee | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 41 | .484 | 5,275 | | | | _Supper._ | | | | | | | | Milk toast: | | | | Milk | 2 0 |\ | / .066 | 650 Bread | 1 2 | \ 18 |/ .107 | 1,356 Butter | 4 | / |\ ... | 869 Cornstarch | 2 |/ | \ ... | 228 Canned salmon | 8 | 8 | .098 | 340 Fried potatoes: | | | | Potatoes | 8 |\ 1 |/ .009 | 162 Lard | 1/2 |/ |\ ... | 132 Cake | 6 | 4 | .026 | 619 Coffee or tea | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 34-1/2 | .316 | 4,766 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for day | | 120 | 1.161 | 14,472 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for one Man | | 30 | .290 | 3,618 ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- MENU II.--_For family equivalent to 4 men at moderate muscular work._ ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | Fuel Food materials. | Weight. | Cost. | Protein.| Value. ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | _Breakfast._ |Lbs. Oz. | Cents. | Pounds. | Calories. | | | | Oatmeal | 0 2 |\ | / .019 | 232 Milk | 6-1/2 | > 2 |< .012 | 122 Sugar | 1 |/ | \ ... | 175 Fresh pork sausage | 1 8 | 18 | .192 | 3,255 Potatoes | 12 | 1 | .013 | 244 Bread | 12 | 3 | .071 | 904 Butter | 2 | 4 | ... | 434 Coffee | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 31-1/2 | .317 | 5,776 | | | | _Dinner._ | | | | | | | | Beef, for stew | 2 8 | 15 | .347 | 1,900 Potatoes | 1 8 | 2 | .027 | 487 Turnips | 8 | 1 | .005 | 67 Bread | 8 | 2 | .048 | 603 Butter | 1 | 2 | ... | 217 Indian pudding: | | | | Cornmeal | 4 |\ | / .022 | 414 Molasses | 4 | \ 6 |/ .007 | 329 Butter | 1/2 | / |\ ... | 108 Skim milk | 2 0 |/ | \ .068 | 340 Coffee | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 31-1/2 | .534 | 4,875 | | | | _Supper._ | | | | | | | | Corned beef hash: | | | | Corned beef, canned | 8 | 6 | .142 | 560 Potatoes | 8 | 1 | .009 | 162 Bread | 12 | 3 | .071 | 904 Butter | 2 | 4 | ... | 434 Apples | 12 | 1 | .003 | 191 Milk | 2 0 | 6 | .066 | 725 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 21 | .291 | 2,976 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total per day | | 84 | 1.142 | 13,627 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for one man | | 21 | .285 | 3,407 ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- In these menus the amount of milk has, as a rule, been taken as representing somewhere near the average consumption. The amount of milk can be increased in any of the menus given above either by substituting it to some extent for coffee or tea, or by using more milk and smaller quantities of meats, butter or eggs. Roughly speaking, 1 quart of whole milk could be substituted for half a pound of meat or eggs and the amount of nutrients would be the same, while a pint of milk would give as large a fuel value as 1-1/2 ounces of butter, and in addition considerable protein not furnished by the latter. This replacement of meats by milk is illustrated in the following menu, in which a diet with a rather small quantity of milk is so changed as to include a much larger amount. Thus for breakfast in the modified ration a pint and a half of milk is made to take the place of half a pound of broiled steak. For dinner a quart of skim milk (or buttermilk) is called for, or a glass for each person unless some of it is used in the cooking. At the same time, 4 ounces less roast pork is required. In the same way a glass of whole milk is allowed each person for supper, or the bread can be made into milk toast and the most of the extra milk used in this way. This allows the canned salmon to be reduced 6 ounces. MENU III.--_For family equivalent to 4 men at moderate exercise._ --------------------------+---------------------------------- | Weight of food. |-----------------+---------------- Food materials. | With | With | small | large | amount | amount | of milk. | of milk. --------------------------+-----------------+---------------- | | _Breakfast._ | Lbs. Oz. | Lbs. Oz. | | Bananas, apples, or pears | 0 12 | 0 12 Wheat preparation | 4 | 4 Milk | 8 | 8 Sugar | 2 | 2 Broiled sirloin steak | 1 4 | 12 Baked potatoes | 1 8 | 1 8 Hot rolls | 1 0 | 1 0 Butter | 2-1/2 | 2-1/2 Extra milk | | 1 8 | | _Dinner._ | | | | Tomato soup | 1 12 | 1 12 Roast pork | 1 12 | 1 8 Mashed potatoes | 1 4 | 1 4 Turnips | 8 | 8 Apple fritters: | | Apples | 8 | 8 Flour | 2 | 2 1 egg | 2 | 2 Lard | 1-1/2 | 1-1/2 Bread | 8 | 8 Butter | 2 | 2 Extra skim milk | | 2 0 | | _Supper._ | | | | Canned salmon | 1 6 | 1 0 Potatoes | 12 | 12 Bread | 8 | 8 Butter | 2 | 2 Berries, canned or fresh | 8 | 8 Extra milk | | 2 0 --------------------------+-----------------+----------------- _Cost, protein, and fuel value of the above._ -----------------------------+-------------+--------------+------------ | Cost. | Protein. | Fuel | | | Value. -----------------------------+-------------+--------------+------------ | | | _With small amount of milk._ | Cents. | Pounds. | Calories. | | | | | | Breakfast | 48 | .39 | 5,300 Dinner | 51 | .39 | 5,800 Supper or lunch | 33-1/2 | .34 | 3,200 |-------------+--------------+------------ Total per day | 132-1/2 | 1.12 | 14,300 |=============|==============|============ Total for one man | 33 | .28 | 3,575 |=============|==============|============ | | | _With large amount of milk._ | | | | | | Breakfast | 43 | .36 | 5,270 Dinner | 47-1/2 | .41 | 5,400 Supper or lunch | 34-1/2 | .34 | 3,600 |-------------|--------------|------------ Total per day | 125 | 1.11 | 14,270 |=============|==============|============ Total for one man | 31 | .28 | 3,567 -----------------------------+-------------+--------------+------------ Menus VI and VII, following, are intended to illustrate how nourishing food can be procured in sufficient quantities and moderate variety at a cost of not over 16 cents per day. The cost to the farmer would be much less, since these menus call for considerable amounts of milk, which is hardly worth more than one-half or one-third as much on the farm as it costs in the towns and cities. Coffee has not always been indicated, but can be introduced for any meal at a cost of from 1/2 to 1-1/2 cents per cup, according to how much coffee is used in making the infusion, and how much sugar, milk, and cream are added. It is, of course, not important that each meal, or the total food of each individual day, should have just the right amount of nutrients, or that the proportions of protein and fuel ingredients should be exactly correct so as to make the meal or day's diet well balanced. The body is continually storing nutritive materials and using them. It is not dependent any day upon the food eaten that particular day. Hence an excess one day may be made up by a deficiency the next or _vice versa_. Healthful nourishment requires simply that the nutrients as a whole, during longer or shorter periods, should be fitted to the actual needs of the body for use. MENU IV.--_For family equivalent to 4 men at moderate muscular work._ ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | Fuel Food materials. | Weight. | Cost. | Protein.| Value. ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | _Breakfast._ |Lbs. Oz. | Cents. | Pounds. | Calories. | | | | Bananas, 4 (or grapes, | | | | 1 pound) | 1 4 | 6-1/2 | .009 | 362 Breakfast cereal | 4 |\ | / .031 | 421 Milk | 6 | > 3 |< .012 | 122 Sugar | 2 |/ | \ ... | 232 Mutton chops | 1 4 | 20 | .165 | 1,812 Potatoes | 1 0 | 1-1/2 | .018 | 325 Butter | 3 | 6 | ... | 653 Rolls | 12 | 4 | .077 | 1,148 Coffee | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+--------- Total | | 44-1/2 | .322 | 5,485 | | | | _Dinner._ | | | | | | | | Tomato Soup | 2 0 | 12 | .036 | 370 Roast pork | 2 8 | 32 | .353 | 3,350 Potatoes | 1 4 | 1-1/2 | .022 | 406 Turnips | 8 | 1 | .005 | 67 | | | | Tapioca pudding: | | | | Tapioca | 3 |\ | / .001 | 310 Apples | 1 0 | \ |/ .004 | 255 Sugar | 2 | / 7 |\ ... | 232 Cream | 4 |/ | \ .006 | 228 Coffee | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 57 | .437 | 5,628 | | | | _Supper._ | | | | | | | | Milk toast: | | | | Milk | 2 0 |\ | / .066 | 650 Bread | 1 2 | \ 18 |/ .107 | 1,356 Butter | 4 | / |\ ... | 869 Cornstarch | 2 |/ | \ ... | 238 Sliced cold pork | 8 | 6 | .071 | 670 Fried potatoes: | | | | Potatoes | 8 |\ 1 |/ .009 | 162 Lard | 1/2 |/ |\ ... | 132 Cake | 6 | 4 | .026 | 619 Coffee or tea | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 32-1/2 | .289 | 5,096 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for day | | 134 | 1.048 | 16,209 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for one man | | 33-1/2 | .262 | 4,052 ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- MENU V.--_For family equivalent to 4 men at moderate muscular work._ ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | Fuel Food materials. | Weight. | Cost. | Protein.| Value. ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | _Breakfast._ |Lbs. Oz. | Cents. | Pounds. | Calories. | | | | Baked apples | 2 0 | 2 | .008 | 510 Boiled hominy | 8 |\ | / .041 | 823 Milk | 10 | > 4-1/2 |< .020 | 202 Sugar | 3 |/ | \ ... | 350 Broiled sirloin | 10 | 11 | .099 | 650 Potatoes | 8 | 1 | .009 | 162 Muffins: | | | | 1 egg | 4 |\ 5 |/ .032 | 162 2 cups flour | 8 |/ |\ .057 | 820 Butter | 2 | 4 | ... | 435 Coffee | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 31 | .276 | 4,524 | | | | _Dinner._ | | | | | | | | Tomato soup | 2 0 | 6 | .036 | 370 Veal stew, shoulder | 2 0 | 20 | .332 | 1,350 Potatoes | 3 0 | 4-1/2 | .054 | 975 Apple dumpling: | | | | 1 egg | 2 |\ | / .016 | 81 4 apples | 1 8 | \ 8 |/ .006 | 382 1/2 cup lard | 4 | / |\ ... | 1,055 1 cup flour | 4 |/ | \ .028 | 410 | | | | Sauce for dumpling: | | | | Butter | 1 |\ 3 |/ ... | 217 Sugar | 4 |/ |\ ... | 465 Bread | 12 | 3 | .071 | 904 Butter | 1 | 2 | ... | 217 Coffee or tea | ... | 3-1/2 | .010 | 410 |-----------+----------+---------+--------- Total | | 50 | .553 | 6,836 | | | | | | | | _Supper or lunch._ | | | | | | | | Dried canned corned beef | 8 | 6 | .142 | 560 Potato croquette | 8 | 1 | .009 | 162 Biscuit | 12 | 4 | .070 | 1,297 Butter | 1-1/2 | 3 | ... | 325 Oranges, 4 | 1 4 | 7 | .007 | 400 Skim milk | 1 6 | 2 | .046 | 234 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 23 | .274 | 2,978 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for day | | 104 | 1.103 | 14,338 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for one man | | 26 | .275 | 3,585 ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- MENU VI.--_For family equivalent to 4 Men at moderate muscular work._ ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | Fuel Food materials. | Weight. | Cost. | Protein.| Value. ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | _Breakfast._ |Lbs. Oz. | Cents. | Pounds. | Calories. | | | | Cornmeal, in mush or cake | 0 5 | 1 | .022 | 414 Milk | 6 | 1 | .012 | 64 Sugar | 2 | 1/2 | ... | 232 Toast | 10 | 2-1/2 | .059 | 753 Butter (24 cents per pound) | 2 | 3 | ... | 434 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 8 | .093 | 1,897 | | | | _Dinner._ | | | | | | | | Beef roll (for roasting) | 3 0 | 15 | .417 | 2,280 Potatoes | 1 8 | 2 | .026 | 488 Beets | 8 | 1 | .007 | 85 Bread | 10 | 2-1/2 | .059 | 753 Butter | 2 | 3 | ... | 434 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 23-1/2 | .509 | 4,040 | | | | _Supper._ | | | | | | | | Beans, baked | 2 0 | 6 | .446 | 3,180 Pork | 12 | 6 | .012 | 2,556 Potatoes, fried | 1 8 | 2 | .026 | 488 Lard | 2 | 1 | ... | 537 Bread | 10 | 2-1/2 | .059 | 753 Butter | 2 | 3 | ... | 434 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 20-1/2 | .543 | 7,948 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for day | | 20-1/2 | 1.145 | 13,885 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for one man | | 13 | .285 | 3,471 ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- MENU VII.--_For family equivalent to 4 men at moderate muscular work._ ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | Fuel Food materials. | Weight. | Cost. | Protein.| Value. ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- | | | | _Breakfast._ |Lbs. Oz. | Cents. | Pounds. | Calories. | | | | Oatmeal | 0 6 | 2 | .059 | 697 Skim milk, 1 pint | 1 0 | 1-1/2 | .034 | 170 Sugar | 2 | 1/2 | ... | 232 Bread (homemade) | 1 0 | 3 | .095 | 1,205 Sausage | 10 | 6 | .080 | 1,358 Butter (24 cents per pound) | 1 | 1-1/2 | ... | 217 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 14-1/2 | .268 | 3,879 | | | | _Dinner._ | | | | | | | | Beef flank, stew | 2 8 | 15 | .430 | 2,988 Potatoes (60 cents per | | | | bushel) | 3 0 | 3 | .054 | 975 Cabbage | 12 | 1 | .013 | 105 Cornmeal pudding: | | | | Cornmeal | 4 | 1/2 | .022 | 414 Skim milk, 1 quart | 2 0 | 3 | .068 | 340 Molasses | 12 | 1 | .020 | 987 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 22-1/2 | .604 | 5,889 | | | | _Supper._ | | | | | | | | Beef, warmed in gravy | 1 8 | 3 | .086 | 598 Hot biscuit | 2 0 | 6 | .340 | 2,600 Butter | 2 | 3 | ... | 434 Milk, 1 quart | 2 0 | 6 | .033 | 325 |-----------+----------+---------+---------- Total | | 18 | .259 | 3,957 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total per day | | 55 | 1.134 | 3,645 |===========|==========|=========|========== Total for one man | | 14 | .285 | 3,411 ----------------------------+-----------+----------+---------+---------- DISCUSSION OF THE MENUS. These menus attempt to give, as nearly as convenient, the range of food materials and the variety of combination which might be found in the average well-to-do household. Some of the menus are more varied and costly than others, and a few are given showing the effect of the use of more milk, and also how a diet might easily become one-sided. The quantities of the different foods used per meal will not, it is believed, be found out of proportion to each other, though of course they will not suit every family. The weights of all materials, oatmeal and other cereals, meat, vegetables, etc., are for these substances as purchased. The calculation of the quantities of nutrients contained in the different foods is based upon the average percentage composition of these materials. Inasmuch as the fats and carbohydrates are used simply as fuel they are not shown in the menus, only the quantity of protein and the fuel value of the food being of interest. The cost of the different food materials must of necessity be more or less of a varying quantity, depending upon the season of the year, the character of the markets, large or small, city or country, etc. Of the more important food materials the assumed price per pound is as follows: Beef loin, 18 to 25 cents; shoulder, 12 cents; round, 14 cents; chicken, 15 cents; mutton loin, 16 cents; lamb leg, 20 cents; bacon, 16 cents; sausage, 10 cents; milk, 3 cents (6 cents per quart); skim milk, 1-1/2 cents (3 cents per quart); butter, 32 cents; cheese, 16 cents; eggs, 16 cents (24 cents per dozen); flour and meal, 2-1/2 to 3 cents; cereals, 5 to 8 cents; bread, 4 cents; potatoes and other vegetables, 1-1/2 cent (90 cents per bushel); bananas, about 8 cents (20 cents per dozen); oranges, about 7 cents (25 to 40 cents per dozen); apples, 1-1/2 cent per pound (90 cents per bushel). It is probable that the above figures represent more nearly the average prices of the different food materials in the eastern part of the country than in the central and western portions, where meats, cereals, and many other products are somewhat cheaper. It is also to be borne in mind that by observing the markets many food materials can be purchased much cheaper than here indicated, while on the other hand there may be times when they will be much more expensive. The choice of vegetables and fruits will naturally be governed by their abundance and cost. Another point that must not be overlooked is that the quantities, and consequently the costs, here given are for four working men; that is to say, men engaged in moderately hard muscular labor. Of course, different individuals differ greatly in their needs for food. These figures express only general averages and are based upon the best information accessible. A FEW POINTS TO BE CONSIDERED IN PLANNING MEALS. Dietetic authorities advise people who are engaged in active muscular work to partake of the more substantial meal in the middle of the day, leaving such articles of food as soup--which is a valuable stimulant after a day of hard work--fruit, cake, etc., for the evening meal, when the system is too much exhausted to digest the more concentrated foods. When men are obliged to take cold lunches in the middle of the day the housewife should see that the lunch basket contains the necessary nourishment in the form of cheese, cold meat, meat or fish sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, a fish or vegetable salad, cold pork and beans, rice pudding, whole wheat bread and butter, a bottle of milk or _strained_ tea or coffee, pie, doughnuts, etc. Remember, a man working in the open air or in a large building requires food which will not oxidize too quickly, or in other words, food which will keep up the fuel and force necessary for his work. Supper in such cases should consist of a good broth or well made soup, and the lighter foods; but breakfast and dinner should be more substantial. It is a question of economy to provide suitable food for the wage-earner. The children may be equally well nourished on a less expensive diet, such as whole wheat bread and butter, milk puddings, fruit, green vegetables, cereals, milk, and meat once a day. On the other hand the individual engaged in sedentary employment, such as book-keeping, teaching, needlework, etc., should dine later in the day, as it leaves a longer interval for digestion, which is much slower when the individual is confined in a close office or work-room, and where little exercise is taken.[5] Care should be taken in planning meals for this class to avoid food which requires much oxygen, such as fresh pork, fried food, sausage, warm bread, pastry, griddle cakes, etc. The mid-day meal of a brain worker or business man should be light; a soup, glass of milk (hot or cold), fruit, bread and butter, vegetable salad, a broiled chop or steak, etc., are suitable for luncheon. Special attention should be given to the diet of school children. (See p. 153.) Students and children who are obliged to study at night should, as a rule, take some light nourishment before retiring; a biscuit, a piece of bread and butter, or a glass of hot milk, is sufficient. Young girls, who are employed in shops, factories, etc., frequently hurry away to their work in the morning without taking a substantial breakfast. It is needless to say that such action is sure to be followed by a physical breakdown. A glass of hot milk or an egg beaten and added to a glass of milk will serve as an occasional substitute for a more substantial meal, but is not enough to sustain active exercise for any length of time. Another point to consider in the planning of meals is economy of fuel. The thoughtful housekeeper will arrange to have food requiring long, slow cooking, such as stews, soup stock, bread, etc., and ironing done by the same fuel. Broiling, toasting, omelets, etc., require a quick fire. It is in the careful consideration of details that economy in both food and fuel may be exercised. FOOTNOTE: [5] The teacher may make this clear by comparing the digestion of the two classes to the action of the air upon coal in a range with the drafts open and closed, the more rapid combustion, effect of oxygen, etc. * * * * * SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS. In giving instruction in Domestic Science, the teacher must be careful to explain the meaning of any words used which the pupils would not be likely to understand; for instance, oxidation, combustion, solubility, etc., and many of the terms used in the analysis, such as fermentation, casein of milk, albumen, cellulose, etc. In order to keep the attention of pupils fixed on a subject, frequent illustrations and comparisons should be made. Questioning is one of the best methods of riveting attention, and as every teacher has not the faculty of asking questions, a few suggestive ones are given which may prove helpful. Why do we eat food? What is nitrogenous food? What is its chief office? Where is it to be found? In what section of vegetable kingdom is this compound abundant? What is the chief nitrogenous compound in meat and eggs? Of what is it composed? Why do we call these compounds nitrogenous? Do they serve any other purpose besides building up flesh? Which are the most important heat-giving compounds? What is the proportion in food they should bear to the flesh-forming compounds? What other compounds are necessary to form a perfect food? Give their use? Where are they to be found? What is common salt? Where is it found? Why do we use it? Give the three digestive juices. What kind of mineral matter do we find in vegetables? Why should potato parings, leaves and stalks of cabbage not be put in the dust bin or garbage pail? What should be done with them? Which are the most important warmth-giving foods? Give another name for these foods? Why are they so called? What is combustion? How do these foods produce force, etc.? What other elements do these foods contain? Why are fats and oils more valuable as heat-givers than starch or sugar? What elements unite and form water? What is the proportion of water in the body? Give its use? Explain the difference in the digestion of starch and fat? Why does starch need cooking? To what kingdom does it belong? Which section is of most value? How is starch changed into sugar? What changes food into blood? What gives the red color to blood? What mineral helps digestion most? What is sugar? What causes sugar to ferment? What is the result? Where is it to be found? What are food adjuncts? Of what value are they? Give the names of combustible nutrients. Give the names of incombustible nutrients. For a substance to undergo combustion, what must it contain? What supports combustion? What is chemically pure water? What causes the hardness of water? What is gluten? What is dextrine? Where is it found? In what way does dextrine differ from starch? What is decomposition? * * * * * SCHEDULE OF LESSONS FOR PUBLIC SCHOOL CLASSES. LESSON. I. Information regarding the conduct of classes. Practice in measuring. Practice in lighting gas-burners and oven. Practice in lighting and regulating a range. II. Fruit--Applesauce. Coddled apples. Stewed prunes. III. Starch--Boiled rice. Potatoes, boiled and mashed. IV. Starch--Thickening liquids with flour. V. Starch--Practice in No. 4. VI. Vegetables--Onions, cabbage, parsnips, etc. VII. Eggs--Boiled eggs. Poached eggs. Toast. VIII. Eggs and milk--Boiled and baked custard. IX. Flour mixtures--Popovers, griddle cake. X. Flour mixtures--Milk biscuits. Corn bread. Apple pudding. XI. Bread--Making sponge, kneading, and setting to rise. XII. Bread--Moulding and baking. XIII. Fish--Boiled and baked fish. Creamed fish and sauce. XIV. Review of theory and recipes. XV. Meat--Roasting meat. Soup stock. XVI. Meat--Stewed meat. XVII. Meat--Cold meat and broiling. XVIII. Salads. XIX. Beans. XX. Plain puddings. NOTE.--After this each teacher must arrange lessons according to circumstances, age of pupils, etc., alternating cooking with lessons in care of kitchen and utensils, and lectures on sanitary matters, laundry work, setting table, and serving. * * * * * APPENDIX. Outlines Nos. I and II, for class work, are contributed by Prof. Kinne, of Teachers' College, Columbia University, N.Y. City. OUTLINE I. The following outline is offered as a tentative plan of work, for an average class of girls, in the highest grades of the Public school. The exact order of lessons depends in a measure on the skill and interest of the pupils, and the special dishes selected to illustrate a principle, upon the circumstances of the pupils, and upon the season of the year. It should be noted that beginning with the third lesson, there are four lessons on the cooking of carbohydrates; then four on the cooking of nitrogenous foods; next the batters, combining the two, and introducing the use of fat, and so on. It is the purpose of this arrangement to enforce the effects produced by heat on the food principles, singly and in combination; to alternate the groups, so that there is a constant review of principles already established; and to give practical work of increasing difficulty. The course in cooking should be preceded by a few lessons in house-work; and at least one on the care of the kitchen. It is taken for granted that the lessons are accompanied by a study of food values, the cost of food, marketing, etc. 1. Simple experiments in combustion--to illustrate the structure of stoves and the care of such stoves. Study of the fuel and apparatus to be used in the school kitchen; practice in using the apparatus; comparison with other apparatus. 2. Utensils--what they are, of what materials, and why. It is well to have pupils make a list in note-book of simple kitchen furnishing. Experiments with the boiling of water, in Florence flask, in tea-kettle, and in covered saucepan, using thermometer. Use of double boiler. Compare with boiling water the temperature of fat hot enough for frying, and also that of the oven. To illustrate the two latter, croutons may be made. 3. Measuring--experiment with the cooking of starch in water; cornstarch pudding, or tapioca or sago jelly. Develop the idea of the effect of the boiling temperature on the starch grains, the bursting of the grains, and the change in flavor due to continued cooking. 4. A cereal and a fruit,--say, baked apples. In the cereal, in addition to the starch, is the cooking of the woody fibre. Note in both cereal and fruit the flavors developed by heat, the cooking being a continuation, as it were, of the ripening process. 5. A starchy and a green vegetable; as, for instance, potatoes and cabbage. Here, again, are the two principles, cookery of starch and vegetable fibre; again the development of flavor by heat. Cookery of peas and beans would better be deferred until the pupils are familiar with the effect of water on nitrogenous substances. If time allows, a sauce may be made to serve with a vegetable, or this may be given in the next lesson. 6. Vegetable soups, without meat stock. This is in part a review lesson. Opportunity is offered here for the study of proportions, several ingredients being used, how much vegetable pulp or juice to how much liquid; how much thickening, and how much salt to a quart of soup. 7. Eggs. Experiments to show the coagulating point of the white and yolk, followed by soft and hard cooking of eggs, and possibly a plain omelet. 8. Eggs and milk. 9. Oysters. 10. Fish. 11, 12, 13. Batters. In these three lessons study especially proportions, methods of mixing and baking. A good sequence of batters is the following: popovers, griddle cakes, muffins, and baking powder biscuit; or a sweet batter in the form of a plain cake may be given for sake of variety. 14. Tender meat. Pan broiling and broiling. 15. Tender meat. Roasting and making of gravy. 18. Tough meat. Soups and stews. 19. Tough meat. Soups and stews. Made dishes of meat can be given in these two lessons also. 20. Beverages. 21. Salads. 22. Desserts. 23. A breakfast. 24. A luncheon. 25. A dinner; or, dinner and supper. Other topics, in addition to these, or in place of some of them; bacon, and trying out of fat; cheese dishes; canning and preserving; dishes for invalids; other desserts and made dishes. OUTLINE II. This outline has been found practical in a short course where it was advisable to give the pupils work in the preparation of simple meals. The plan can be followed in a longer course. _Introductory Lesson: Fire-making, Measuring, etc._ 1. A cereal and fruit. 2. Eggs. 3. Bacon, and the trying out of fat. 4. Plain muffins, or griddle cakes. Coffee. 5. A breakfast. 6. Vegetables. Vegetable soup. 7. A made dish of meat or fish. 8. Salad and dressing. 9. Muffins or biscuit. 10. A luncheon or supper. 11. Vegetables. Macaroni. 12. Meat. 13. Sauces and gravies. A dessert. 14. Bread or rolls. 15. A dinner. 
20557	----	ONTARIO TEACHERS' MANUALS HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE IN RURAL SCHOOLS [Illustration: Printer's mark.] AUTHORIZED BY THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION TORONTO WILLIAM BRIGGS Copyright. Canada. 1918. by The Minister of Education for Ontario CONTENTS PAGE Preface vii Three Short Courses in Home-making 1 Introduction 1 A Library on Home Economics for the Rural School 2 Twenty Lessons in the Care of the Home 4 Suggestions to the Teacher 4 Equipment 5 Reference Books 6 Lesson I: Arrangement and Care of the Kitchen 7 Lesson II: Care of Cupboards and Utensils 10 Lesson III: Care of Foods 12 Lesson IV: Disposal of Waste 14 Lesson V: Making Soap 17 Lesson VI: Setting and Clearing the Table 18 Lesson VII: Waiting on Table 21 Lessons VIII and IX: General Cleaning of a Room 23 Lesson X: Care of the Bed-room 25 Lesson XI: Care of Lamps 27 Lesson XII: Prevention of Pests 29 Lesson XIII: Removing Stains, Bleaching Fabrics, and Setting Colours 32 Lesson XIV: Washing Dish-Towels, Aprons, etc. 34 Lesson XV: Ironing 35 Lessons XVI and XVII: Care of the Baby 36 Lesson XVIII: Cost of Food, Clothing, and House 39 Lesson XIX: How to Keep Accounts 39 Lesson XX: Care of the Exterior of the House 41 Reference Books 44 Twenty Lessons in Cooking 45 Suggestions to the Teacher 45 Abbreviations and Measurements 48 Table of Level Measurements 48 Comparisons Between Weights and Measures 48 Reference Books 49 Lesson I: Discussion of Foods and Cooking 50 Recipes 52 Lesson II: Preparing and Serving Vegetables 53 Recipes 55 Lesson III: The Value of Carbohydrates in the Diet 58 Recipes 59 Lesson IV: Fruits and Vegetables 60 Recipes--Open-kettle Method; Cold-pack Method; Single Process Method; Intermittent Method 63 Lesson V: Fats--Vegetables--Continued 66 Recipes 68 Experiments in Using Starch for Thickening 69 Conclusions Based on the Foregoing Experiments 69 Lesson VI: Cereals 70 Recipes 71 Lesson VII: Classification of Foods--Reviewed 73 Black-board Summary 76 Lesson VIII: The Planning and Serving of Meals 76 Examples of Well-chosen Menus 77 Lesson IX: Milk 79 Recipes 81 Lesson X: Soups 82 Recipes 83 Lesson XI: Eggs 85 Recipes 86 Lesson XII: Simple Desserts--Custards 88 Recipes 89 Lesson XIII: Batters and Doughs 90 Recipes 91 Lesson XIV: Batters and Doughs--Continued 92 Recipes 93 Lesson XV: Meats 94 Recipes 95 Lesson XVI: Baked Pork and Beans--Baking-powder Biscuits 98 Recipes 98 Lesson XVII: Butter Cakes--Plain Yellow Cake--Cocoa Coffee--Tea 99 Recipes 101 Lesson XVIII: Yeast Bread 103 Recipes 104 Lesson XIX: Serving a Simple Dinner Without Meat--Baked Omelet--Macaroni and Cheese 106 Recipes 106 Lesson XX: Sugar 107 Recipes 108 Twenty Lessons in Sewing 110 Suggestions to the Teacher 110 Reference Books 112 Lesson I: Preparation for Sewing 113 Lesson II: Hemming Towels 115 Lesson III: Hemming Towels--Continued 116 Lesson IV: Bags 119 Lesson V: Bags--Continued 120 Lesson VI: Bags--Continued 122 Lesson VII: Bags--Continued 123 Lesson VIII: Bags--Continued 124 Lesson IX: Darning Stockings 127 Lesson X: Patching 128 Lesson XI: Cutting Out Aprons or Undergarments 130 Lesson XII: Aprons or Undergarments--Continued 132 Lesson XIII: Aprons or Undergarments--Continued 134 Lesson XIV: Aprons or Undergarments--Continued 135 Lesson XV: Aprons or Undergarments--Continued 136 Lesson XVI: Aprons or Undergarments--Continued 137 Lesson XVII: Methods of Fastening Garments 138 Lesson XVIII: Methods of Fastening Garments--Continued 140 Lesson XIX: A Padded Holder for Handling Hot Dishes Binding 142 Lesson XX: A Cap to Wear with the Cooking Apron 144 Household Science Equipment 146 Household Science Cabinet Materials Required, Stock Bill, Tools, Directions for Making 161 Equipment for Rural School Household Science Cabinet--No. I 173 Equipment for Rural School Household Science Cabinet--No. II 174 The Hectograph 177 The Rural School Lunch 178 The Box Lunch 179 Contents of the Lunch Box 181 Sandwich Making 182 Suggestions for Sandwich Fillings 182 Suggestions for Planning 183 Suggestions for Desserts 184 Packing the Lunch Box 184 Rules for Packing 184 Equipment for Packing 185 Serving a Hot Dish 186 The Method 186 Suggested Menus 189 Suggestions for Hot Dishes for Four Weeks 189 Recipes Suitable for the Rural School Lunch 191 Useful Bulletins 200 Household Science Without School Equipment 201 First Method 201 Second Method 204 The Fireless Cooker 208 Directions for Fireless Cooker--No. I 210 The Outside Container 210 The Insulating Material 212 The Inside Container 214 The Kettle 214 Extra Source of Heat 215 Covering Pad 215 Directions for Fireless Cooker--No. II 217 Method of Making 217 Directions for Fireless Cooker--No. III 217 Method of Making 218 Use of the Fireless Cooker in the Preparation of Lunches 218 Special Grants for Rural and Village Schools 221 PREFACE This Manual is issued for the purpose of encouraging the introduction and furthering the progress of Household Science in the rural schools of this Province. There are 903 urban and 5,697 rural schools, and 45.87% of the school population is in attendance at the latter schools. The value of Household Science as an educational and practical subject has been recognized, to some extent, in the urban schools of the Province but, up to the present, little attempt has been made to give the subject a place among the activities of the rural schools. There is a wide-spread impression that it is not possible in Household Science to give any instruction that is of value without the provision of separate rooms, elaborate equipment, and specially trained teachers. Where these conditions exist, of course, the best work can be accomplished; but, even where they cannot be realized, much may be done toward giving definite, useful instruction in the cardinal principles of home-making, which should be learned by every girl. There is certainly not a single rural school where some practical work in sewing and some valuable lessons in the care of the home may not be given. As for cookery, it is doubtful if there is a single school so small and so helpless that it is unable to use the hot noon-day lunch as a method of approach to this branch of the subject. Students of the physical welfare of children are rapidly coming to the conclusion that a warm mid-day meal greatly increases the efficiency of the pupil and determines to a large extent the results of the afternoon's study. There are other benefits to be derived from a school lunch well prepared under proper conditions. In many communities it has been the means of bringing about a healthy and satisfactory co-operation between the school and the home, of developing a higher social life in the neighbourhood, and of introducing into the school a Household Science course, which has proved as great a benefit to the farmer's wife as to his children. This Manual deals entirely with conditions that exist in our rural schools and outlines only such plans and schemes as can be carried out, even in adverse circumstances, by alert trustees, sympathetic inspectors, and resourceful teachers. Permission has been obtained from the Bureau of Education, Washington, U.S.A., to make use of a recently issued bulletin--"Three Courses in Home-making for Rural Schools", and of various bulletins issued by State Agricultural Colleges. The freest use has been made of this material, and the permission to do so is hereby gratefully acknowledged. Only such theory as can be readily assimilated has been given; and the teacher is advised for further information and help to consult the Manuals issued by the Department of Education on _Household Management_ and _Sewing_. Those who wish to become thoroughly competent and to earn the highest Departmental grants should attend the Summer Schools provided by the Department of Education. Under certain conditions the expenses of teachers attending these courses are paid by the Department. Nothing has been included or recommended that cannot be accomplished in the average rural school; and trustees, teachers, and inspectors are urged to make a beginning by selecting the lessons that appeal to them as being most suitable to the districts in which their schools are situated. By careful planning and a wise use of the time before and after school and during recess, the regular organization of the school need not be interfered with; and, in addition to the educational and social advantages to be derived from undertaking this work, much benefit will result from the increased interest taken in the school by the parents and the general public. It is not essential that the lessons in this Manual should be taken exactly in the order given. Any other arrangement called for by the peculiar circumstances of the school is admissible. The Inspector of Manual Training and Household Science is ready at all times to visit rural schools for the purpose of conferring with the Public School Inspectors, the trustees, and the teachers regarding the introduction of Household Science as a regular subject of the school curriculum. HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE IN RURAL SCHOOLS THREE SHORT COURSES IN HOME-MAKING INTRODUCTION The three brief courses in home-making outlined in this Manual have been especially prepared for use in elementary rural schools. They are in no sense complete outlines of the subjects with which they deal; rather, they indicate a few of the important phases of food study, sewing, and the care of the home with which the pupil in the elementary school should become familiar. The underlying thought for each problem should be: "Will this help the pupils to live more useful lives, and will it lead to better conditions in their homes?" The lessons are purposely made simple, and the plans are definitely outlined, so that even the inexperienced teacher may be able to achieve a certain measure of success. The experienced teacher will find in them suggestions that may be of value in the further development of the course. The teacher who desires to use this course will necessarily have to adapt it to her own community, and it is hoped that she may be able to do this with but little alteration. While conditions of living and choice of foods differ in various parts of the Province, the general principles of nutrition, the rules of sanitation, and the methods of cooking and serving are much the same for all. Owing to the difficulty of securing time on the programme for frequent lessons in home-making, each of the courses has been limited to twenty lessons. Some teachers may not be able to have a greater number of lessons during the school year, and they may find it well to carry the three courses through three successive years. In other schools, where more frequent lessons can be given, it may be well to offer all three courses during one year. The courses in cooking and the care of the home can be advantageously combined, as many of the problems in both are related. The lessons in sewing may be given on another day of the week, or it may be well to give them early in the year, to be followed, later, by the cooking lessons. Thus an opportunity will be furnished for the making of the cooking aprons and the hemming of the towels. It is most desirable that periods of at least forty minutes should be provided for all the practical lessons. Longer periods will be necessary for some of them, such as the preparation and the serving of a meal. If no practical work is undertaken in the lesson, a forty-minute period is sufficient. LIBRARY ON HOME ECONOMICS FOR THE RURAL SCHOOL In addition to the text-books recommended as sources of special reference for the rural teacher, the following books, bearing on home economics or on methods of teaching, are suggested for the rural school library. These books have been chosen with the threefold purpose of providing references for the teachers, reading matter for the pupils, and a lending library for the parents. _Laundering._ Balderston, L. Ray. Pub. by the Author. Philadelphia $1.25 _Country Life and the Country School._ Carney, M. Row, Peterson & Co., Chicago 1.25 _How the World is Fed._ Carpenter, F. O. American Book Co., New York .60 _How the World is Clothed._ Carpenter, F. O. American Book Co., New York .60 _How the World is Housed._ Carpenter, F. O. American Book Co., New York .60 _How We Are Clothed._ Chamberlain, J. F. Macmillan's, Toronto .45 _How We Are Fed._ Chamberlain, J. F. Macmillan's, Toronto .45 _How We Are Sheltered._ Chamberlain, J. F. Macmillan's, Toronto .45 _Bacteria, Yeasts, and Molds in the Home._ Conn, H. W. Ginn & Co., Boston 1.00 _The Boston Cooking-school Cook Book._ Farmer, F. M. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. (McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, Toronto) 1.80 _The Rural School Lunch._ Farnsworth, N. W. Webb Pub. Co., St. Paul, Minn. .25 _Clothing and Shelter._ Kinne, H., and Cooley, A. M. Macmillan's, Toronto 1.10 _Foods and Household Management._ Kinne, H., and Cooley, A. M. Macmillan's, Toronto 1.10 _Means and Methods of Agricultural Education._ Leake, A. H. Houghton, Mifflin Co., New York. (Thos. Allen, Toronto) 2.00 _Rural Hygiene._ Ogden, H. N. Saunders, Philadelphia 1.50 _Health and Cleanliness._ O'Shea, M. V., and Kellogg, J. H. Macmillan's, Toronto .56 _Rural Education._ Pickard, A. E. Webb Pub. Co., St. Paul, Minn. 1.00 _Manual of Personal Hygiene._ Pyle, W. L. Saunders, Philadelphia 1.50 _Feeding the Family._ Rose, M. S. Macmillan's, Toronto 2.10 _Food Products._ Sherman, H. C. Macmillan's, Toronto 2.00 TWENTY LESSONS IN THE CARE OF THE HOME SUGGESTIONS TO THE TEACHER The purpose of this course is to give the pupils instruction in various household tasks, in order that better living conditions may be secured in the homes. The beauty and sacredness of an ideal home life should receive emphasis, so that the pupils may be impressed with the importance of conscientious work in the performance of their daily household duties. They should have some insight into the sanitary, economic, and social problems that are involved in housekeeping, so that they may develop an increased appreciation of the importance of the home-maker's work. The two most important things to be taught are "cleanliness and order". Too much emphasis cannot be placed on the value of fresh air and sunshine and the necessity for the free use of hot water and soap. The value of property should also be emphasized. Economy in the purchase and handling of house furnishings and equipment should be considered. Instruction should also be given in the care of foods and clothing and in the care and arrangement of furniture. Simple instruction in the care of babies should be given, since the older children are often responsible, to some extent, for the care of the younger members of their families. In some of the lessons more subjects may be suggested than the teacher will have time to take up in a single period. In that case it will be well for her to choose the subject which seems most vital to the immediate needs of the community. In many cases she may be able to give an increased number of lessons. Practice and drill in all of the processes involved in housewifery are essential to successful training. If a cupboard and a table have been arranged for the use of the cooking classes, most of the suggested work can be carried out with the school equipment. Where there is no equipment in the school and school conditions do not approximate home conditions, it may be possible to secure permission to give the lesson after school hours in the home of one of the pupils who lives nearby. In each lesson the teacher, while giving the pupils helpful general information on the subject under discussion, should strive to impress on them the importance of doing some one simple thing well. The rural teacher who is eager to make her school-room an attractive place may devote some time in these lessons to such problems as the hanging and the care of simple curtains, the care of indoor plants, the arrangement of pictures, the planning of storage arrangements for supplies and of cupboards for dishes, and the preparations for the serving of the school lunch. In order to teach these lessons effectively, it is desirable to have the following simple equipment on hand. Additional special equipment may be borrowed from the homes. EQUIPMENT Broom, 1 Cloths for cleaning, 6 Dish-cloths, 2 Dish-towels, 12 Dust-brush, 1 Dust-pan, 1 Garbage can (covered), 1 Lamp, 1 Oil-can, 1 REFERENCE BOOKS _Rural Hygiene._ Brewer, I. W. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia $1.25 _The Healthful Farmhouse._ Dodd, H. Whitcomb & Barrows, Boston .60 _Community Hygiene._ Hutchinson, Woods. Houghton, Mifflin Co., New York. (Thos. Allen, Toronto) .65 _Foods and Sanitation._ Forster, G. H., and Weigley, M. Row, Peterson &. Co., Chicago 1.00 _The Home and the Family._ Kinne, H., and Cooley, A. M. Macmillan's, Toronto .80 _Housekeeping Notes._ Kittredge, M. H. Whitcomb & Barrows, Boston .80 _Practical Home-making._ Kittredge, M. H. The Century Co., New York .70 _A Second Course in Home-making._ Kittredge, M. H. The Century Co., New York .80 LESSON I: ARRANGEMENT AND CARE OF THE KITCHEN SUBJECT-MATTER In arranging the kitchen, the three things of most importance are the stove, the sink, and the kitchen table. If there is no sink in the kitchen, there will be some other place arranged for washing the dishes, probably the kitchen table, and this must be taken into consideration when the furniture is placed. As most of the work is done at the stove and the table, both these must be placed where they will have a good light, and they should be close to each other, so that but few steps are necessary for the worker. In furnishing the kitchen, the housekeeper will find a high stool very useful, as it will enable her to wash dishes, prepare vegetables, and do other work while seated. All the furniture should be kept so clean and free from dust that the kitchen will have a neat and attractive appearance. A vase of flowers or a potted plant, and a washable table-cover to be used after the dishes have been put away, will help to make this room a pleasant place for the family. Special attention should be given to the ventilation. The kitchen should be thoroughly cleaned after each meal. If it has become dusty or disarranged, it should be put in order before the next meal is to be prepared. While the cooking is under way, everything should be kept in an orderly condition. As soon as the meal is completed, the left-over food should be covered and put away; the scraps and waste material should be gathered and disposed of; and the dishes, pots, and pans should be scraped, and washed in hot, soapy water, then rinsed in clear, hot water, dried, and put away. The table should be scrubbed, the stove cleaned, the floor swept and scrubbed whenever necessary, and everything put neatly in its place. _Care of the coal or wood range._--All spots should be removed from the range by wiping it with old paper. If it is in bad condition, it should be washed with soap and water. If it is oiled occasionally, blacking will not be necessary; but if blacking is used, it should be applied with a cloth and rubbed to a polish with a brush, just as the fire is being started. The ashes and soot flues back of the oven and underneath it should be cleaned out once a week. _Directions for building a fire._--To build and care for a fire in the coal or wood range, close all the dampers, clean the grate, and remove the ashes from the pan. Put on the covers and brush the dust off the stove. Open the creative damper and the oven damper, leaving the check damper closed. Lay some paper, slightly crumpled into rolls, across the base of the grate. Place small pieces of kindling wood across one another, with the large pieces on top. Lay pieces of hardwood or a shovelful of coal on top of the kindling, building so as to admit of the free circulation of air. If the stove is to be polished, rub it with blacking. Light the paper from below. When the fire begins to burn briskly, add coal or wood: then add more when that kindles. When the fire is well started and blue flame is no longer seen (about ten minutes), close the oven damper. Close the creative damper when the fire is sufficiently hot. Brush the stove and the floor beneath it as soon as the fire is started. Polish the stove. If the fire becomes too hot, open the check damper. Fill the tea-kettle with fresh water and set it on the front of the range. _Care of the sink, wash-basin, and garbage pail._--A neglected sink or garbage pail may be a fruitful source of disease, in addition to attracting water-bugs and other pests. Scraps should never be left in the sink. After washing the dishes it should be thoroughly cleaned, a brush and scouring material being used. The nickel part may be washed with hot soap-suds, wiped dry, and polished. Water should never be left in the wash-basin. Both the soap-dish and the wash-basin should be scoured daily. The garbage pail should be emptied and washed every day, and carefully scalded once or twice a week. PRELIMINARY PLAN It will be well to have this lesson succeed or follow a cooking lesson, for then the pupils will have a keener interest in the problems of the kitchen. (See Twenty Lessons in Cooking, Lesson I.) METHOD OF WORK Cleanliness and order are the two points to be considered in this lesson. The doing well of each simple household task and the thoughtful arrangement and planning of all parts of the house should be emphasized as being of great importance to the housekeeper's success. Begin the lesson with a discussion of the purpose of the kitchen; then discuss its arrangement from the standpoint of convenience for the work that must be done there. Emphasize the importance of having the furniture so arranged that the work may be done quickly and easily, and that the kitchen may be given a comfortable and attractive appearance. Let the pupils arrange the furniture in the school-room. Discuss and demonstrate the care of the stove by the use of the school stove. Assign each pupil a time when she is to look after the stove on succeeding days and grade her on her work. Let each pupil bring a report from home as to what she is doing to help in the care of the home kitchen. Make a specific assignment for home work. Questions Used to Develop the Lesson What is the purpose of the kitchen? What are the principal articles of furniture in the kitchen? How should we arrange these things? Can we make any general rules as to arrangements? Why is it difficult to keep the kitchen clean? At what times is the kitchen most apt to become disarranged? Why is it important to keep the kitchen in good order? In what order should the kitchen be at the time we begin the preparation of the meal? How should the floor be cleaned? The utensils? What should we do with any left-over food? How should we take care of the stove after the meal? LESSON II: CARE OF CUPBOARDS AND UTENSILS SUBJECT-MATTER It is of the utmost importance that cupboards and other places where food is stored should be kept free from dirt and scraps of food. Ants, cockroaches, mice, and other pests infest dirty places where food is kept, and render a house unfit for human habitation. It requires constant care and watchfulness on the part of the housewife to keep the cupboards clean. She must look over the shelves daily, wiping them off whenever they need it, and giving them a thorough cleaning at least once a week. The housekeeper should know how to care for the various utensils used and understand the simplest and best methods of keeping them clean. Utensils should never be put in the cupboards until perfectly clean and dry. Particular attention should be paid to the care of milk vessels. Pans, pails, pitchers, or bottles in which milk has been kept, should be rinsed in cold water, washed in strong, clean soap-suds, rinsed in clean, boiling water, and dried in the sun. If utensils have become discoloured or badly coated, they should be specially scoured. If something has been burned in a kettle, the kettle should be cleaned by filling with cold water, adding washing-soda, and boiling briskly for half an hour; after that a slight scraping ought to remove the burned portion. If the kettle is not yet clean, the process should be repeated. If a kettle has been used directly over a wood fire and becomes blackened with soot, it should be rubbed off with a newspaper and then with an old cloth. Kettles should be dried well before being put away. With proper care they seldom become rusty. If an iron kettle has rusted, it should be rubbed with kerosene and ashes, then washed in strong, hot, soda-water, rinsed in clear hot water, and dried on the stove. If a kettle is very rusty, it should be covered thoroughly with some sort of grease, sprinkled with lime, and left overnight. In the morning it should be washed out with hot soda-water and rinsed in clear, hot water. A new kettle is generally rusty, and should be greased thoroughly inside and out and allowed to stand for two days; then washed in hot soda-water. Bath-brick should be used for scouring iron utensils and steel knives and forks. If iron pots and frying-pans are scrubbed with a piece of bath-brick each time they are used and then washed in hot soap-suds, they can be kept in good condition. Tinware and steel knives and forks may be cleaned by scouring with ashes, but only fine ashes should be used on tinware. The brown stains on granite utensils should be scoured off; and this ware should be carefully handled, in order to avoid chipping. Coffee-pots and tea-pots should be cleaned daily, the grounds removed, and the interior of the pots washed out thoroughly. The tea-kettle should be washed and dried overnight and left uncovered to air. PRELIMINARY PLAN If school lunches are served or cooking lessons are given at the school, it will be well to use this lesson to get the cupboards in readiness. If it is impossible to do this at school, arrange to have such a lesson in one of the homes outside of school hours. Be sure that the housekeeper is in sympathy with the work and is willing to co-operate. METHOD OF WORK Assign each pupil a task in the cleaning, the scouring of the dishes, and the arrangement of the cupboard. Set a definite amount to be done and carry out the plans, leaving a clean and neatly arranged cupboard at the end of the lesson. LESSON III: CARE OF FOODS SUBJECT-MATTER Several important points must be borne in mind if foods are to be kept in a good condition. Most foods change easily. Vegetables and fruits lose water, wilt, and become unfit to eat. Flour and corn-meal become mouldy. Potatoes decay and sprout. Some foods, such as milk, turn sour. Eggs become tainted, and fat grows rancid. With proper care in handling, storing, and keeping, this spoiling can be prevented. The spoiling of foods is due to the presence of micro-organisms; and if foods are fresh and sound and kept cool and clean in every way, they will not spoil readily, because such conditions are unfavourable to the development of the micro-organisms. On the other hand, if foods are roughly handled and bruised, decomposition will take place readily, for micro-organisms develop in the bruised portions. Care must, therefore, be taken to select foods wisely, handle them carefully, wash them if they are not already clean, put them in clean receptacles, and keep them in a clean, cool place. All pots, pans, and dishes in which foods are kept or cooked should be thoroughly cleansed and rinsed well, so that no fragments stick to them which may decay and cause possible infection to the next food that is put in. Every part of the kitchen and store-rooms should be kept clean, dry, and well aired. Light is the best germicide and purifier known. Covered receptacles should be secured for all foods. Those that are mouse-proof and insect-proof are essential to a well-kept pantry. All bottles and cans should be neatly labelled and so arranged that each one can be conveniently reached. The outside of the bottle or case should always be wiped off after it has been opened and food has been removed from it. The shelves on which the cases are kept should be wiped off every day. If supplies of fruit or vegetables are kept on hand, they should be looked over frequently, and whatever shows even the slightest suggestion of spoiling should be removed. Bread should be kept in a covered tin box, and the box should be washed out once or twice a week and frequently scalded and aired. PRELIMINARY PLAN If cooking lessons are to be given, it will be well to take this lesson on the care of foods in connection with the first cooking lesson, and to make it a means of arranging for the materials that are to be kept on hand and of determining how everything is to be handled. METHOD OF WORK Devote a large part of the lesson to a discussion of the necessity for care in the handling, storing, and keeping of foods. If facilities permit, devote a few minutes to the putting away of foods that are to be used in the next cooking lesson or in the school lunch, discussing the reasons for such care. LESSON IV: DISPOSAL OF WASTE SUBJECT-MATTER If the daily disposal of waste is attended to, there will be no undesirable accumulation of garbage. Scraps of food that cannot be utilized for the table should be fed to the pigs or the chickens and should not be allowed to stand and gather flies. A covered pail or pan should be used for holding the garbage, until final disposal is made of it. Those portions that are badly spoiled and will be of no value in feeding the stock should be burned at once. Waste vegetable substances, if suitable, should be fed to the stock, and if not, should be buried in a thin layer on the ground at some distance from the house, so that they may enrich the soil. Old papers that are badly soiled should be burned, but all others should be kept for use in cleaning the stove, starting the fires, etc. Empty cans should be well washed and buried, so that they will not prove a breeding-place for flies. It is well to pierce them through the bottom immediately after opening them, so that they will not hold water. Dish-water should be emptied at some distance from the house, unless there is a drain nearby. All receptacles that hold water should be carefully emptied, and all depressions in the soil should be filled, in order to prevent mosquitoes from breeding. All waste water should be used on the garden. _Protection of the water supply._--Only the water from deep wells should be used for drinking purposes, because all surface water and water in shallow wells becomes dangerous through seepage from compost, pig-pens, privies, and other places where decayed organic matter may accumulate. In order that the water may be kept clean, the well must be supplied with a tight-fitting top which need not be opened and a metal pump to bring up the water. A well platform that allows the water spilled on it to run back into the well is unsafe, for any filth carried on the platform in any way will be washed directly into it. Rats, mice, and other animals get into the well if the top is not tight, and these, in addition to being unpleasant, are liable to introduce disease germs. _Simple disinfectants._--Sunshine and fresh air are nature's disinfectants and should be freely admitted to every part of the house. Windows should be left open whenever possible. The windows in the sleeping rooms should always be opened at night. The interior of the house should be kept perfectly dry. Decay does not easily take place in dry places. A damp cellar should be drained, and the grounds around the house should not be allowed to drain into the cellar. Coarse coal ashes should be used to fill in around the house, on the walks, etc., to help in securing thorough drainage. Wood ashes may be used as a simple disinfectant to cover decayed organic matter. Whitewash is a good disinfectant and should be frequently used both inside and outside the house and on all out-buildings. Kerosene and creosote also make good disinfectants. _Care of out-of-door closets._--The privy should be so arranged that it may be cleaned often and all excreta disposed of in a safe way. The building should be so well constructed that there will be no cracks for the admission of flies. In a poorly constructed building, old paper can be pasted over the cracks, to make the structure fly-proof. Dry earth, street dust, or lime should be frequently sprinkled over the excreta, and the seat should be closed, to prevent the entrance of flies or mosquitoes. The seat should be washed frequently, and both the seat and the floor scrubbed at least once a week. PRELIMINARY PLAN It will be well to teach this lesson at a time when improvements are necessary in the care of the school-house. The discussions in regard to out-of-door closets will, of course, be taken when the girls are alone with the teacher. METHOD OF WORK Discuss the disposal of waste, the care of garbage, etc., in the home and the school. Talk over the care of waste from the school lunch and discuss methods of keeping the school in a sanitary condition. Follow this by a general cleaning of the school-house. LESSON V: MAKING SOAP SUBJECT-MATTER _Home-Made Hard Soap_ 6 lb. fat 1 can lye 1 pt. cold water 1 tbsp. borax Melt the fat slowly. Mix the lye and water in a bowl or kettle (do not use a tin pan), stirring with a stick until the potash dissolves. Add the borax and allow the mixture to cool. Cool the fat and, when it is lukewarm, add the lye, pouring it in a thin stream and stirring constantly. Stir with a smooth stick until about as thick as honey, and continue stirring for ten minutes. Pour the mixture into a box and allow it to harden. Cut into pieces the desired size and leave in a cool, dry place for ten days, to ripen before using. When making the soap, be careful not to spill potash or lye on the hands, as it makes a bad burn. If the hands are burned, rub them with grease at once. Do not wet them. PRELIMINARY PLAN Some time before this lesson is given ask the pupils to bring scraps of fat from home. See that these are in good condition, and weigh them, to determine the portion of the recipe that can be made. Ask one of the pupils to bring sufficient borax for the recipe. METHOD OF WORK Let the pupils look the fat over and put it on to melt, watching it carefully. While it is heating and cooling, discuss the process of soap-making, the cost of materials, the care necessary in the making of soap, and the importance of its use. Get ready the other materials, and a box for moulding the soap, and let the pupils work together. After the soap has hardened and been cut, have it put away on a shelf to dry. LESSON VI: SETTING AND CLEARING THE TABLE SUBJECT-MATTER The following points must be remembered when a meal is to be served: The dining-room must be clean, well aired, sufficiently lighted, and in good order. The table must be perfectly clean and covered with a clean white cover (table-cloth, doilies, paper napkins, or oil-cloth). A vase of flowers or leaves or a small potted plant, in the centre of the table, will help to make it attractive. The table should be prepared with everything necessary for serving the meal, but only those foods should be placed on it that will not be spoiled by standing. If there is danger of the food attracting flies, cover it carefully. Plates for everyone who is to partake of the meal should be arranged at equal distances from one another, and half an inch from the edge of the table. The knife should be placed at the right of the plate with the cutting edge toward the plate, and one inch from the edge of the table. The fork should be placed at the left of the plate with the tines turned up, and one inch from the edge of the table. The spoon should be placed, bowl upward, at the right of the plate, to the right of the knife. It should be placed one inch from the edge of the table. Spoons and forks for serving should be placed at the right and left of the dish to be served, or in another convenient position. No one should have to use the personal fork or spoon for serving. The napkins should be folded simply and placed at the left of the fork. The tumbler should be placed at the upper end of the knife. The cups and saucers should be placed at the right of the plate with the handle of the cup toward the right. The bread-and-butter plate, if used, should be placed at the upper left hand of the fork. The salt-cellars and pepper-shakers should be placed near the centre of the table or at the sides, where they can be conveniently reached. Individual salt-cellars, if used, should be placed immediately in front of the individual plate. The chairs should be placed at the table after it is set. Care should be taken not to put them so close to it that it will be necessary to move them after they are occupied. PRELIMINARY PLAN If possible, arrange to give this lesson before Lesson VIII in the series of "Twenty Lessons in Cooking" is given; then the emphasis in that lesson may be put upon the food to be served, proper combinations, etc., while this lesson gives the drill in the arrangement and handling of the dishes. It is desirable to give the pupils a thorough drill in table setting and table service, since much of the pleasure derived from eating depends upon the attention paid to these processes. Be careful to see that everything necessary is on hand to set the table simply but daintily. For class practice a small table may be set for four. This will necessitate a table-cover, four or more dinner plates, four bread-and-butter plates, four tumblers, four cups and saucers, four knives, four forks, four teaspoons, four napkins, a salt-cellar, a pepper-shaker, a platter, one serving spoon, and one serving fork. If these things are not already in the school, probably they can be brought from home by the pupils. If linen cloths are not used and cannot be afforded on the tables in the homes, the pupils should be taught to use a white oil-cloth. Have a diagram made on the black-board by one of the pupils of the arrangement of an individual place at the table. [Illustration: _Fig. 1._--Arrangement of an individual place at table 1. Knife 2. Spoon 3. Tumbler 4. Fork 5. Napkin 6. Bread-and-butter plate 7. Dinner plate] METHOD OF WORK The process of table setting should be demonstrated with the materials at hand, and the work should be adapted to home conditions. If there is no available table in the school-room, the desk tops may be used for individual places. Reasons for the arrangement of the table should be given--the convenience of placing the knives and the spoons to the right, the forks to the left, the cup and saucer and the tumbler to the right, the use of the napkin, etc. LESSON VII: WAITING ON TABLE SUBJECT MATTER The one who is to wait on table must be careful to see that everything is in readiness before the meal is announced, so that she can do her work easily, without subjecting those at the table to unnecessary delay. She should have water, bread, and butter (if used), hot dishes ready for the hot foods, and dessert dishes conveniently at hand. She must see that her hands are perfectly clean and her hair and dress in order. A clean, neat apron will always improve her appearance. The room should be clean and neatly arranged. If the meal is to be a family one and all are to sit at the table together, plates will be passed from one to another as they are served: but it will still be well to have one person appointed to wait on the table. She should be ready to supply more bread, water, etc., when it is necessary, and to change the plates for the dessert course. She should rise from the table quickly and quietly, in order not to disturb others, and should take her place again as soon as the necessary service has been rendered. The following rules should be observed: Hold the tumblers near the bottom, being careful not to touch the upper edge. Fill only three-quarters full. Put the butter on the table just before the meal is announced, and serve in neat, compact pieces. Cut the bread in even slices, pile them neatly on a serving plate, and place it on the table, covering it with a clean napkin or towel, if there are flies about or there is danger of dust. If preferred, the bread may be cut at the table as required. Place the dessert dishes at one end of the table or, better still, on a side table, until it is time to use them. When carrying the dishes to and from the table, be careful not to let the fingers come in contact with the food. Learn to place the hand under the dish. In particular service a napkin is used between the hand and the dish, or a tray, if the dish is a small one. The tray should be covered with a napkin or doily. When a dish is being passed, hold it at the left of the person to be served and at a convenient height and distance. Be sure that each dish is supplied with a spoon or a fork for serving, and turn the handle of the spoon or the fork toward the one to be served. If a plate is to be placed in front of a person, set it down from the right. Never reach in front of others at the table. When a course is finished, remove the dishes containing the food first; then the soiled plates, knives, and forks. Be careful to handle only a few dishes at a time and not to pile them. If another course is to be served, remove the crumbs from the table, using for the purpose a napkin and plate, or a crumb tray and brush, and brushing the crumbs lightly into the plate. Fill the tumblers, and arrange the dishes and forks or spoons quickly for the next course. When the meal is over, the chairs should be moved back from the table, the dishes neatly piled and carried to the kitchen sink, the table wiped, the crumbs brushed from the floor, and the room aired. PRELIMINARY PLAN Let this lesson be a continuation of the previous one, placing emphasis on the method of waiting on table. The same articles will be required as were used in the last lesson. In addition to these the pupils must be careful to have clean aprons for this lesson. METHOD OF WORK Have the table set, as a review of the work of the last lesson; then have four or six of the pupils seat themselves and go through the forms of serving one another to any simple meal upon which the class may decide. Family meal service should be explained and demonstrated first; then service where there is one waitress. Have the pupils, in turn, act as waitresses and serve all the others, offering and placing the food, removing the soiled dishes, filling the tumblers, etc. LESSONS VIII AND IX: GENERAL CLEANING OF A ROOM SUBJECT-MATTER Rooms which are in constant use should be swept and dusted every day. A thorough cleaning of each room in the house will be necessary every week or two, even though the room is swept and kept in order daily. First, all cupboards, drawers, and other receptacles in which articles collect should be cleaned; then all large movable articles should be dusted and moved out of the room; those that are not readily movable should be dusted and covered. The floor should be swept with the windows open; the ceiling and walls should be brushed with a covered broom, and the dust allowed to settle. The floor should then be wiped with a damp cloth on the broom.[A] The woodwork should be cleaned with a damp cloth and a soap that is not too strong. Soda or sapolio should not be used. The furniture should be carefully uncovered, and everything arranged in perfect order. [A] If the floor is of unfinished-wood, it will require a thorough scrubbing. After sweeping the floor and allowing the dust to settle, a small portion at a time should be scrubbed with a floor-brush and soap. When scrubbing, the grain of the wood should be followed. The scrubbing-water should be changed frequently. For rinsing and drying the floor, a cloth should be wrung out of clear water. The things that are highest should be dusted first, and care should be taken to collect all the dust in the dust-cloth. After collecting the dust, the cloth should be shaken out-of-doors, washed thoroughly, and boiled. The dust-cloth should be dampened before using on all surfaces except the polished furniture and windows. Sweeping should be done with short strokes and the broom should be kept close to the floor, so that the dust will not be scattered. The corners of the room should be swept first, the dust gathered in the centre, and then swept into the dust-pan. The dust should be burned, for it may contain disease germs. Loose hairs and fluff should be removed from the broom after using, and it should also be washed periodically. Small rugs should be cleaned out-of-doors. They should be swept, beaten, and re-swept, then rolled until ready to be put on the floor. If the rug is a large one and cannot be removed, it should be wiped over with a damp cloth, rolled, and the under side of the rug and the floor beneath it should be wiped. After the room has been cleaned, the windows should be arranged so that a supply of fresh, clean air can come constantly into it. This is essential to every room in the house, if perfect health is to be maintained. PRELIMINARY PLAN It will be well to have Lesson IX given in one of the homes some day after school hours, if possible. If that cannot be arranged, the school-room may be utilized as the place for practice. METHOD OF WORK Devote Lesson VIII to a discussion of the methods of cleaning and to various short tasks in connection with the school-room. In Lesson IX have the pupils go through the entire process of cleaning a room. Assign some portion of the task to each one of them, so that all may take part in the work. Supervise the work carefully, assign home practice, and have each pupil clean a room at home once a week for a month. LESSON X: CARE OF THE BED-ROOM SUBJECT-MATTER As soon as one is dressed in the morning, the windows in the bed-room should be opened wide to air the room thoroughly, and the bed-clothes should be removed and put on chairs before the window to air. The night clothing should also be aired. The slops should be emptied, and the chamber should be washed with cold water, using a special cloth. The basin should be washed in warm, soapy water, which should then be poured into the chamber and used for washing it. The toilet articles should be washed, then the basin rinsed and wiped dry. The slop jar should be washed out thoroughly, and both the slop jar and the chamber should be cleaned frequently with chloride of lime or some other disinfectant. The pitcher should be filled with fresh water, and all the articles arranged neatly on the wash-stand. If the towels are soiled, clean ones should be supplied. The mattress should be turned and the bed made carefully; the lower sheet being tucked under the mattress all around, and the other covers tucked in at the bottom and sides of the bed. The bed should be kept free from wrinkles and smooth in appearance, and the pillows should be well shaken and arranged at the head of the bed. The floor should be swept, the furniture dusted, and everything put in place. The windows should be left partly opened, so that the bed-room may be well aired. Fresh air is always necessary, but especially during sleep, when the body is repairing itself, and it is important that the room should be well aired during the day and the windows left open at night. When the room is to be thoroughly cleaned, the frame of the bed should be dusted, the mattress turned, and the bed should be made. The window shades should be dusted and rolled up. The curtains should be well shaken and covered, if one has a dust sheet. All the small articles on the bureau, table, and shelf should be placed on the bed, and the whole covered with a sheet. The tables, chairs, and any other movable furniture should be dusted and placed outside the room or covered. The rugs should be rolled and cleaned out-of-doors. The room should be swept and dusted. As soon as the dust has settled, the covers should be removed, and the furniture, rugs, and all the small articles should be restored to their places. The shades should be adjusted, and the room left in perfect order. The broom and everything else that has been used in the work should be cleaned and put back into their places. PRELIMINARY PLAN It may be possible for the teacher to give this lesson in her own bed-room or in the bed-room of one of the neighbours. If this is not feasible, the only way to make it effective is to have the pupils report each day on the work they do at home. METHOD OF WORK Illustrate each process and give the reasons for everything that is done. Emphasize the importance of the sanitary care of the bed-room, a regular time for doing the work, and the benefit of having each member of the family care for her own personal belongings and her own portion of the bed-room. LESSON XI: CARE OF LAMPS It is assumed that the teacher is acquainted with the possibilities of electricity and other methods of better lighting in country homes, and will instruct her pupils in the economic use of modern lighting facilities. SUBJECT-MATTER _Directions for cleaning and filling lamps._--A bright light comes from clean burners that allow a good draught. This means constant care on the part of the one who looks after the lamps. In the daily cleaning, first dust the chimney shade and the body of the lamp. Wash the chimney. If sooty, clean with a newspaper before washing. Next, turn the wick high enough to show all the charred part; cut this off, making it perfectly even, then rub with a piece of soft paper. Wipe the burner and any other part of the lamp that may be oily. Dry with another cloth. Fill the body of the lamp with oil to within an inch of the top, leaving plenty of room for the gas that may be generated from the kerosene, as this gas, in a lamp that has been used many times without refilling, may be a source of danger. When lighting the lamp, turn the wick down, allowing the chimney to become heated gradually. If it is necessary to move the lighted lamp, turn the wick low. The flaring up of the flame smokes the chimney. Do not leave a lighted lamp in a room where there is no one to watch it. When putting out the light, blow across the chimney, never down into it, as this might send the flame down into the kerosene. About once a month give the lamp a thorough cleaning. Spread out a newspaper and take the lamp apart. Wash the chimney and the shade in hot water, dry with a towel, and polish, using soft paper. Boil every part of the burner in water to which two tablespoonfuls of soda have been added. Insert new wicks if the old ones are dirty, and put the parts all securely together again. Keep an old pan and some cloths exclusively for this purpose, and be very careful not to allow the dirty hands or a drop of kerosene to come near any food. Have a regular time in the day for cleaning the lamps, preferably immediately after all the morning work has been done after breakfast. Do not fill the lamps near the kitchen stove. Do not light a match while the oil-can is near, and never fill a lamp while it is lighted or while near another one which is lighted. If a fire is caused by kerosene, smother it with a heavy rug or a woollen garment, and do not attempt to put it out with water. PRELIMINARY PLAN It will be well to give this lesson just before some evening entertainment at the school-house. If there are no lamps at the school have a few brought in from neighbouring homes. Secure an old pan and some cloths to use in cleaning. METHOD OF WORK Discuss with the pupils the cost and properties of kerosene and the danger of having a light or too great heat near a can of kerosene. Explain the draught by means of which the kerosene can be made to burn on the wick and the danger if the burner becomes clogged up and the draught is cut off. Have the lamps taken apart, the burners boiled, the chimneys cleaned, and the body of the lamps filled and wiped off. Then have the lamps lighted, to see that they burn properly. LESSON XII: PREVENTION OF PESTS SUBJECT-MATTER Household pests are annoying, dangerous to health, and destructive to property. They carry disease germs from one person to another and from the lower animals to human beings. Absolute cleanliness is essential, if the house is to be kept free from pests. As a rule, they flourish in dark, damp, dirty places. With proper care the housekeeper can keep her house free from them and, if they are noticed, she should know how to exterminate them. A few simple methods of extermination are here given: _Bedbugs._--Kerosene should be poured into all the cracks, and a brush, dipped in kerosene, run briskly over all surfaces. Care must be taken to have no fire in the room while this is being done. The windows should be open, and the room should be kept free from dust. In four days this should be repeated, in order to kill any bugs that may have just hatched. _Cockroaches and water-bugs._--A solution of one pound of alum to three pints of water should be poured into all the cracks. Insect-powder and borax are also effective. Absolute cleanliness and freedom from dampness are necessary, if the house is to be kept free from cockroaches. _Ants._--Oil of cloves or pennyroyal on pieces of cotton-batting scattered about in the places where ants appear will drive them away. Saturating the nests with coal-oil will destroy them. Food which attracts ants should be removed from places which they are able to reach. _Rats and mice._--These are best exterminated by the use of a trap or some preparation such as "Rough on Rats". Traps should be set nightly and should be scalded and aired after a mouse has been caught. Rat holes may be stopped by sprinkling with chloride of lime and then filling with mortar or plaster of Paris. _Mosquitoes._--These breed in swampy places, or in old barrels or kegs or tin cans which hold stagnant water. Therefore, if the swampy places are drained and the grounds about the house are kept free from stagnant water, the housekeeper will, as a rule, not be troubled with mosquitoes. Empty barrels or kegs should be inverted, and old tin cans should have a hole punched in the bottom, so that they will not hold water. All high weeds near the house should be cut down and destroyed, so that they will not provide a damp place in which to harbour mosquitoes. If it is impossible to get rid of all standing water, the breeding of mosquitoes can be checked by pouring kerosene oil on the water. One ounce of oil on fifteen square feet of water is sufficient, and this will have to be renewed at least once in ten days. The doors, windows, and ventilators of the house should be well screened, as a protection against mosquitoes. _Flies._--These are one of the greatest carriers of typhoid and other germs, as well as filth of all sorts. They can be got rid of only by destroying the breeding places and killing the flies as rapidly as possible. Materials that attract them should not be exposed in and about the house. The house should be well screened with wire mesh or mosquito netting, in order to keep out the flies. A fly swatter should be kept at hand. The stables should be cleaned daily. Manure piles should be screened, and every effort should be made to kill the larvae by frequent spraying with kerosene, creoline (dilute creosote), or lime. _Fleas._--These will be troublesome if cats or dogs are kept in the house. These pets should be given frequent baths, the rugs on which they lie should be brushed and shaken daily, and the floors should be washed with soap and water and wiped with kerosene. _Moths._--These are apt to develop in woollen clothes unless the garments are thoroughly shaken and absolutely protected by wrapping in newspapers before being put away. Woollen garments that are used only occasionally should be kept in a light, dry place, examined frequently, and hung in the sun occasionally. Moths or carpet beetles can be exterminated by the use of kerosene. PRELIMINARY PLAN Give this lesson at a time when the pupils are asking about household pests or when the school is suffering from them. It would be well to have it in the spring, just before the school closes, so that the pupils may immediately put into practice what they learn. It may be desirable to devote their efforts to the destruction of one particular pest; for example, a fly crusade may be inaugurated. METHOD OF WORK If there are pests in the school-room, discuss their habits, what seems to attract them, where they come from, etc. Have the pupils report any that they may have at home. Explain why they are dangerous, tell how they can be exterminated, and assign to each pupil the task of exterminating one household pest. Have her report, each day, the success of her efforts. Continue this work for several weeks. LESSON XIII: REMOVING STAINS, BLEACHING FABRICS, AND SETTING COLOURS SUBJECT-MATTER As garments and household linens are apt to become stained and thus lose their attractiveness, it is well to know the remedies for the most common stains and the principle upon which their removal depends. All stains should be removed as soon as possible. Boiling water will loosen and remove coffee, tea, and fresh fruit stains. The stained spot should be held over a bowl, and the water should be poured upon it with some force. Cold water will remove stains made by blood or meat juice. Soaking will help in the removal of blood stains. Rust stains may be removed by wetting the stained spot with lemon juice, covering it with salt, and placing the stained fabric in the sun. Stains from stove blacking, paint, and grass may be removed by soaking in kerosene and washing well with soap and water. Ink stains may be removed by soaking in water, removing as much of the stain as possible, and then soaking in milk. Stains from cream and other forms of grease may be washed out in cold water, followed by warm water and soap. White cotton and white linen materials may be bleached by exposure to the sunshine while still damp. If they are left out overnight, the bleaching process is made effective by the moisture furnished by dew or frost. A stream of steam from the tea-kettle may also help in the bleaching process. Some colours are set by the addition of a small amount of acid to the first water in which they are soaked, while others are set by the use of salt. It is necessary to try a small amount of the material before dipping in the entire garment, in order to be sure of satisfactory results. Vinegar should be used for blues, one-half cup to one gallon of water. Salt is most effective for browns, blacks, and pinks. In most cases, two cups of salt to one gallon of cold water will be sufficient. PRELIMINARY PLAN The towels used for drying dishes or the linen used for some school entertainment may have become stained with coffee, fruit, or some other substance. Make this the basis of a lesson, and let the pupils bring from home other things which are stained. Each pupil should have an article on which to practise. This lesson should be preliminary to the lesson on laundry work. METHOD OF WORK Examine the various articles from which stains are to be removed. Discuss the method of removal, and let each pupil work at her own stain until it is as nearly removed as possible. LESSON XIV: WASHING DISH-TOWELS, APRONS, ETC. SUBJECT-MATTER Dish-towels should be thoroughly washed at least once a day. Wash one piece at a time (the cleanest first) in warm, soapy water and rinse in clear water in another pan. Hang in the sun, if possible, so that the air will pass through. Boil at least once a week in soapy water, to keep them fresh and white. Sunshine and fresh air are valuable for the purposes of bleaching and purifying. Wash the aprons in hot, soapy water; boil, rinse, and blue slightly. A small amount of thin starch may be desirable. A thin starch may be made as follows: _Recipe for Thin Starch_ 2 tbsp. starch 4 tbsp. cold water 1/2 tsp. lard, butter, or paraffin 1 qt. boiling water Add the cold water to the starch and lard, stir until smooth, then add the boiling water slowly, stirring constantly. Boil for several minutes in order to cook the starch thoroughly; then add one pint of cold water and a small amount of blueing. Dilute if necessary. Hang the articles in the sun to dry, shaking well before putting on the line, and folding the edge of each over at least six inches. Be sure to have the line clean. When dry, fold carefully. A short time before ironing, sprinkle well. PRELIMINARY PLAN It may be desirable to give this lesson earlier in the course, if cooking lessons are being given and dish-towels are in use, or if the aprons are badly soiled. Other articles may be washed, if time and facilities permit. METHOD OF WORK Discuss briefly the need for laundry work and the general principles. Let the pupils take turns at washing the towels or aprons; examine each article after it is washed, and give careful directions for the boiling, blueing, and starching. While these processes are being completed, let some of the pupils prepare the line. Let two of them be appointed to bring the towels in, before going home from school. LESSON XV: IRONING SUBJECT-MATTER To do good ironing it is necessary to have a firm, unwarped ironing board. This should be covered with some thick woollen material and a white cotton cover that is clean, smooth, and tightly drawn. The thick cover should be tacked on, while the top cover should be pinned, so that it may be easily taken off to be washed. A heavy iron-holder should be provided; and the irons should be clean and smooth. For this purpose paper should be kept at hand, as well as a piece of beeswax, sandpaper, or salt. A small cloth should be used to wipe the iron after using the beeswax. A newspaper should be spread on the floor, to protect any pieces that may hang down while being ironed. The coarser towels should be ironed first, as the longer the irons are used, the smoother they become. Starched pieces should not be ironed until the irons are very hot. If the article is first laid smooth, it will be easier to iron it and keep it in shape, and every piece should be ironed until it is perfectly dry. As soon as the ironing is completed, the articles should be hung up to air. PRELIMINARY PLAN Arrange to have the ironing lesson just as soon after the laundry lesson as possible. It will probably be easy to borrow the necessary equipment from homes near the school. Each pupil may be directed to bring something that will contribute toward the equipment, and one may be instructed to have the fire ready and another to put the irons on to heat before the lesson hour. METHOD OF WORK Call the pupils together early in the morning or at some time previous to the lesson period, and give them directions for sprinkling the articles to be ironed. When the class hour comes, demonstrate the method of ironing, folding, and hanging the articles, and let the pupils take turns in doing the work. LESSONS XVI AND XVII: CARE OF THE BABY SUBJECT-MATTER Because young girls are fond of little children and must help their mothers often with their baby brothers and sisters, they should know how to care for them. It is essential that they should understand the following points: The little body needs protection. The head is soft, and the brain may be injured by hard bumps or pressure. The skin is tender and is easily irritated by the bites of insects, friction, and so on. Kicking and wiggling are necessary to the development of the muscles, but the baby should not be played with all the time; and it is well for it while awake to lie quiet for part of the time. It should not be made to sit up until ready to do so. A desire to creep should be encouraged. Standing or walking should not be taught the baby until it tries to stand or walk itself, and then it must be helped very carefully. The baby should have plenty of fresh air and should be allowed to spend much of its time out-of-doors. In cold weather it must be warmly covered and sheltered from high winds. Its eyes should always be protected from strong sunlight. Regular hours should be observed for sleep, and the baby should be put to bed early in the evening. If the house is not well screened in summer, a mosquito bar should be put over the crib. The clothing should be light and loose, so that the body can move freely. Perfect cleanliness is necessary to keep the baby's skin in good condition; and a daily bath should be given. A morning hour, midway between the meals, is usually the best time for this. The baby should be taught to use the chamber before the bath and after the nap. Everything should be ready before it is undressed. The room should be very warm. The water should be only moderately warm, and should be carefully tested to make sure that it is not too hot. The towels and covers for the baby should be at hand. The head and the feet should be washed first, and the body soaped before putting the child into the bath. Little soap should be used, for even the best soap is strong and is apt to irritate the delicate skin. The bath should be given quickly, and the body wrapped at once in a blanket or towel and kept covered as much as possible while it is being dried. The baby should be fed in small quantities at regular intervals and given plenty of cold water to drink. Not until it is eleven or twelve months of age should it be given solid or semi-solid food. Even then, milk should continue to form the basis of its diet, and of this a considerable quantity should be used--about a quart a day from the twelfth month on. As the child grows older a more varied diet will be necessary. The most hygienic methods of food preparation should always be observed. Certain foods should never be given; for example, fried foods, pastries, condiments, pickles, preserves, canned meats, fish, pork, sausage, cheap candies, coarse vegetables, unripe and overripe fruits, stimulants, foods treated with a preservative or colouring matter, and half-cooked starches. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should talk with the pupils, in order to see what points in connection with the care of the baby it is necessary for them to know, so that they may do their work at home intelligently. METHOD OF WORK It will probably not be possible to have anything more than a class discussion of the points in question, but the pupils' home experiences ought to make this discussion vital. If there is a nurse in the neighbourhood who can be secured to give one lesson on the care of the baby, the teacher should supplement her own lessons by an additional lesson given by the nurse. LESSON XVIII: COST OF FOOD, CLOTHING, AND HOUSE SUBJECT-MATTER It is of great importance that children should learn in an elementary way the value of property. This will prepare them for the knowledge of the cost of living that is essential. They should learn that the cost of food can be decreased by having gardens, and by the proper choice, care, and handling of foods; that taking care of clothing will reduce another item of expense; and that the owning of one's own house and lot is something worth working for, in order to obviate the necessity of paying rent. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher will have to acquaint herself thoroughly with conditions in the community, so that she can talk intelligently with the pupils, emphasize the right points, and give constructive help. METHOD OF WORK Begin with a discussion of the cost of food; how much the pupils earn or spend during the week; and why it is worth while to cook and sew well and to look after property. Continue such discussions from time to time, in connection with other school work. LESSON XIX: HOW TO KEEP ACCOUNTS SUBJECT-MATTER It is well for every one to keep a written record of all money received and all money spent. Children should be taught to do this as soon as they are old enough to have money in their possession. A simple little note-book in which all expenditures are entered on the right side and all receipts on the left side, with the balance drawn up each week or month, will prove an easy and satisfactory method of keeping accounts. If the little girl learns to do this with her pennies, she will be better able to take care of the more important household accounts when she is in charge of a home. However, there will be no real incentive for her to keep accounts unless she is endeavouring to save for some good purpose. If she learns to save for the future purchase of a book, a dress, or some little treat, she will feel that her account-keeping is worth while. As a housekeeper, she will appreciate the importance of saving for some future benefit to the family. PRELIMINARY PLAN In order to make the lesson of vital interest, introduce it at a time when the pupils are saving for some specific purpose--material for a dress to be made in the sewing class, refreshments for a party for their mothers, a school library, or something else that will be a pleasure and help in the work of the school. METHOD OF WORK After discussing the sources of income of the pupil and of her family, and the means of increasing and taking care of that income, discuss simple methods of keeping accounts, illustrate these on the black-board, show how to balance the accounts, and see that each pupil has a small book suitable for the purpose. It may be necessary to make or to rule this book as a portion of the class exercise. LESSON XX: CARE OF THE EXTERIOR OF THE HOUSE SUBJECT-MATTER Closely allied to the housekeeper's work within the home is the care of the exterior of the house and its surroundings. It is absolutely necessary that the grounds be kept neat and clean. In addition to this they should be made attractive by the careful selection of a few trees and shrubs suitably placed. While the gardens at the rear of the house may be planned solely for the pleasure and use of the family, in planning the lawn at the sides and front the neighbours and passers-by must be considered. The grounds should be a picture of which the house is the centre, the trees and shrubs being grouped to frame the picture. In placing shrubs, the effect of the whole landscape should be considered. As a rule, shrubs should be placed in corners, to hide outhouses from view, or to screen other places which should be shielded. The centre of the lawn should be left free, and in no case should a shrub be placed in the middle of an open space in a lawn or yard. A few flowers should be planted among the shrubs, to give colour at different seasons. The exterior of the house must be considered, if the picture framed by the shrubs and vines is to be a pleasing one. The house should be painted in a soft brown or dark green to blend with the landscape of oaks and pines. The paint will help to preserve the house, but its colour must be carefully chosen to give a pleasing effect. The general plan of the grounds and local conditions in regard to soil and climate will determine to a large extent the kind of shrubs to be used. Many beautiful shrubs which have been introduced from foreign countries do well in Ontario, but our native shrubs serve all decorative purposes. For damp ground there is no better shrub than the red osier dogwood. This shrub will do well on almost any kind of soil. The swamp bush honeysuckle grows quickly and is suitable for clay land; so are the black elderberry and several species of viburnum. The hazel which may be obtained from the woods makes a good dense shrub, and the wild rose also has possibilities. The common barberry is an attractive shrub; but, as it assists in the formation of wheat rust, it should not be used in rural sections. The lilac may be used where a high shrub is desirable. The common arbor vitae or cedar of the swamps makes a good evergreen shrub. It serves well as a shield for both winter and summer and thrives with moderate care. The weigela, forsythia, and spiraea are also excellent shrubs. The ground at the back of the house should be used for vegetable gardens with flower borders. For this purpose a deep, rich soil is necessary, and every square foot of space should be utilized. Every family should learn to make use of an increased number of vegetables and fruits and to cook them in a variety of ways. No crops should be allowed to go to waste. A family of five people could be entirely provided with vegetables for the summer and autumn from a garden less than fifty by seventy-five feet. The attractiveness, as well as the usefulness, of the borders depends upon the choice and arrangement of flowers. These should be chosen with due consideration as to height of plants, colour of blooms, and seasons of blooming. The tallest plants should be placed at the back of the border; for a border six feet wide none of the plants need be over five feet in height. There can be a riot of colours, if the flowers are arranged in clumps of four to six throughout the entire length of the border. In a well-planned flower border some flowers should be in bloom each month. Hardy perennial flowers should predominate, with enough annuals to fill up the spaces and hide the soil. The well-tried, old-fashioned flowers will give the best satisfaction. Every four years the flower borders need to be spaded, well manured, and replanted. The following lists of flowers for borders may be suggestive: _Perennials._--Bleeding-heart, carnations, chrysanthemums, columbine, coreopsis, dahlias, gaillardias, golden glow, iris, larkspur, oriental poppies, peonies, phlox, pinks, platycodon, snapdragon. _Biennials._--Forget-me-not, foxglove, Canterbury bells, hollyhock, sweet-william, wallflower. _Annuals._--African daisy, ageratum, aster, calendula, calliopsis, balsam, candytuft, cornflower, cosmos, marigold, mignonette, nasturtium, petunia, poppy, stock, sweet alyssum, sweet-pea, verbena, zinnia, annual phlox, red sunflower, cut-and-come-again sunflower. Each home gardener should study garden literature, in order to assist in solving the garden problems; for the day has passed when one needed only to scratch the soil with a shell, plant the seeds, and receive an abundant crop. Today successful gardening depends upon intelligent management of the soil and crop and upon persistent labour. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should, if possible, visit the homes of all the pupils, in order to make herself familiar with the condition in which their grounds are kept. She may be able to secure permission from one of the housekeepers to use her grounds as the practice place for the lesson, or it may be more desirable to give this lesson at the school and to conduct a school garden as a model home garden. METHOD OF WORK Discuss the arrangement and care of the home or school grounds. Have the class tidy the lawn and garden chosen for the lesson, supervising the work carefully. Assign the tidying up of the home lawns or work in the home gardens for the coming week. Let this lesson serve as a means of interesting the pupils in home gardening, if that has not already been taken up, or of emphasizing the relation of gardening to the housekeeper's work, if they are already interested in the former. REFERENCE BOOKS _Bush Fruits._ Card. Macmillan's, Toronto $1.75 _When Mother Lets Us Garden._ Duncan. Moffat, Yard & Co., New York .75 _A Woman's Hardy Garden._ Ely. Macmillan's, Toronto 1.75 _The Beginner's Garden Book._ French. Macmillan's, Toronto 1.00 _Productive Vegetable Garden._ Lloyd. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia 1.50 TWENTY LESSONS IN COOKING SUGGESTIONS TO THE TEACHER The teacher should learn how the pupils live in their own homes, what food produce is grown for home use, what foods they use, and how they prepare and serve their foods. The instruction given in the lessons should be based on this knowledge, and the possibilities for the improvement of accepted methods of cooking should be considered. Those foods should be used in the recipes which the pupils can afford to use at home. They should be encouraged to grow in their gardens a variety of garden produce, and to keep chickens, pigs, and cows. Elementary principles of nutrition and sanitation should be taught. Simple meals, with plain but well-cooked dishes, should be planned. Variations should be suggested, and the value of a mixed diet emphasized. Care should be taken not to waste time on points that are unrelated to the homes of the pupils, except as such points may be necessary to raise their ideals. All the work should be done carefully. The sanitary handling of food and care in the storage of foods should be insisted upon. Careful attention should be given to the dish-washing, care of the dish-towels, etc., emphasizing the points in sanitation involved. The pupils should be drilled faithfully in all points connected with the handling of anything that comes in contact with the food. Proper methods of sweeping and cleaning should be employed, and thoroughness must be practised in every detail of the work. Constant drill in these processes should be given. The order in which the lessons are to be given will be regulated, in part, by the season of the year in which they occur, the locality, the foods obtainable, and any special local needs. However, care must be taken that the lessons are given in proper sequence, so that the pupils may see the relation of one to another and may appreciate the value of each. It may be necessary to combine two lessons or to give only part of a lesson. In some of the lessons more recipes are suggested than can be prepared in a brief period. In every case the choice of a recipe will have to be made by the teacher. Wherever it is possible, simple experiments should be performed to show the composition of, and the effect of heat on, food. No attempt has been made to give a complete set of recipes; but those included here are chosen as illustrating the subjects to be discussed in the lessons. The teacher who desires to make use of a greater number of recipes will do well to supply herself with one of the text-books listed. Level measurements should be used in the preparation of all the recipes, and all the directions should be carefully followed. The first few lessons are more fully outlined than the others, furnishing suggestions for methods of procedure that may be adapted to later lessons. The teacher should have a detailed plan for every lesson, outlining her method of work, the leading questions for the discussion, and the home assignments which she desires to make. Foods that are in common use are suggested for the lessons outlined. There will necessarily be exceptions to their use in different localities. If any foods used in the homes are harmful because of the manner in which they are prepared, the teacher should do all in her power to correct the situation, but she must, at the same time, be careful not to be too radical. If the lessons given are not followed by home practice, the time devoted to them will be, to all intents and purposes, wasted. Simple meal service should be introduced wherever it is possible, and as much instruction on the furnishing and the care of the kitchen should be included as time permits. By the time the course is completed, the pupil should be able to keep her kitchen in a sanitary condition and should have a sufficient knowledge of food values and of the processes of cooking to enable her to provide simple, wholesome meals for her family. For the teaching of food values, it will be helpful to secure the set of sixteen food charts which may be obtained from the Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office, Washington, D.C., price one dollar. It will be shown later how the school luncheon may be managed with very little interference with the ordinary organization of the school. Where definite instruction is given in Household Science, a place must be provided for it on the school time-table, as is the case with the other school subjects. In sewing and household management lessons of forty minutes each are sufficient, and these can be arranged for at the times found to be most convenient. If each pupil keeps her sewing in a box or bag, it may often be used as "busy work" when the pupil has finished her assigned work or while she is waiting for the teacher, who may be engaged with another class. Lessons in cookery should be, if possible, at least one hour in length, and should be given at a time when this period can be exceeded, if the character of the lesson renders it desirable; for example, in those cases where the cooking is not completed at the expiration of the time assigned. For this reason the last hour on Friday afternoon has proved a very suitable time. In some schools the lesson is commenced at half-past three and runs on until completed, and in this way only half an hour of the regular school time is taken. The possibilities of a Saturday morning cooking class should not be overlooked. ABBREVIATIONS AND MEASUREMENTS tbsp. = tablespoonful tsp. = teaspoonful c. = cupful qt. = quart pt. = pint oz. = ounce lb. = pound min. = minute hr. = hour TABLE OF LEVEL MEASUREMENTS 3 tsp. = 1 tbsp. 16 tbsp. = 1 c. (dry measure) 12 tbsp. (liquid) = 1 c. 2 c. = 1 pt. COMPARISONS BETWEEN WEIGHTS AND MEASURES 2 c. butter, packed solidly = 1 lb. 2 c. sugar (granulated) = 1 lb. 2 c. meat, finely chopped = 1 lb. 2-2/3 c. brown sugar = 1 lb. 2-2/3 c. oatmeal = 1 lb. 4-3/4 c. rolled oats = 1 lb. 4 c. flour = 1 lb. 2 tbsp. butter = 1 oz. 4 tbsp. flour = 1 oz. 9 or 10 eggs = 1 lb. 1 lemon (juice) = 3 tbsp. _Note._--The half-pint measuring cup and not the ordinary tea cup is the one to be used. REFERENCE BOOKS _Household Management._ Ontario Teachers' Manual. The Copp, Clark Co., Ltd., Toronto $0.19 _Domestic Science._ Austin, B. J. Lyons & Carnahan, Chicago. Vol. I .60 Vol. II .60 _Principles of Cooking._ Conley, G. American Book Co., New York .52 _Home Economics._ Flagg, G. P. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. (McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, Toronto). .75 _Lessons in Elementary Cooking._ Jones, M. C. Boston Cooking School Magazine Co., Boston 1.00 _Food and Health._ Kinne, H., and Cooley, A. M. Macmillan's, Toronto .65 _The School Kitchen Text-book._ Lincoln, M. J. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. (McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, Toronto) .60 _Food and Cookery._ Metcalf, M. L. Industrial Education Co., Indianapolis 1.00 _Household Science and Arts._ Morris, J. American Book Co., New York .60 _The Science of Home-making._ Pirie, E. E. Scott, Foresman & Co., Chicago .90 _Elements of the Theory and Practice of Cookery._ Williams, M. E., and Fisher, K. R. Macmillan's, Toronto 1.00 LESSON I: DISCUSSION OF FOODS AND COOKING _Management of the kitchen stove. Cooking by dry heat. Baked vegetable or fruit._ SUBJECT-MATTER _Foods._--The body uses food to build and repair its tissues, to provide heat and energy, and to regulate the body processes. Foods differ from one another in their composition and in their ability to assist the body in the performance of its varied functions. These differences have led to the classification of foods into five groups, which are spoken of as the five food-stuffs or food principles. _Cooking._--While some foods can be used as they occur in nature, most of them are made more acceptable by the application of heat. Heat softens the structure of vegetables and fruits, makes tender the tissues of meat, prepares starch for digestion, develops the flavour in many foods, and destroys the parasites and germs that may be present. The five food-stuffs are differently affected by heat--some require slow cooking, others require intense heat. Hence, it is necessary to study cooking, in order that each food may be properly prepared. _The stove._--A knowledge of the construction of the stove and the methods whereby heat is obtained is imperative if one is to be a successful cook. For all stoves three things are necessary--fuel, a supply of oxygen, and a certain degree of heat, known as the kindling point, whereby the fire is started. The supply of oxygen is regulated by dampers and checks so arranged as to admit or cut off the draught of air. The creative dampers are doors or slides that come below the fire box. When open, they admit the entrance of air, increase the draught, and facilitate combustion. The oven damper is a flat plate which closes the opening into the chimney flue, to decrease the drawing of the draught. When the oven damper is closed, the heat from the fire remains in the stove and passes around the oven. Checks are doors or slides higher than the fire-box, which, when open, allow the cold air to pass over the fire, retarding combustion. A stove is also provided with means for disposing of the ashes, soot, and the gases formed. All parts of the stove are so arranged that they may be kept clean. (See Twenty Lessons in the Care of the Home. Lesson I) PRELIMINARY PLAN There should be provided for this lesson (from the homes of the pupils or the school garden), some fruit or vegetable in season that can be cooked by dry heat. Each pupil may be able to bring an apple or a potato. The teacher should be sure to have an oven that can be well heated for baking and to have the fire well started before the lesson begins, so that the oven will be ready for use. Lessons in geography and nature study should be correlated with the cooking lesson, to give the pupils an opportunity to study the source of foods and the reasons for cooking them. One of the pupils should write the recipes on the black-board before the lesson hour. RECIPES _Baked Apples_ Wash the apples, core them, and cut through the skin with a knife, so that the apple can expand in baking without breaking the skin. Place the apples in a baking-dish and fill each cavity with sugar. Cover the bottom of the dish with water one quarter of an inch deep and bake until the apples are soft (20 to 45 minutes), basting them every 10 minutes. Place them in a serving dish and pour the juice over them. Serve hot or cold. _Baked Potatoes_ Select smooth potatoes of medium size, scrub carefully, and place in a baking-pan. Bake in a hot oven from 45 minutes to one hour. When soft, break the skin to let the steam escape and serve at once. METHOD OF WORK Discuss very briefly the food that is to be cooked and the method of cooking it. Have as many apples or potatoes baked as there are members of the class or as the baking-dish will hold. Assign tasks to special members of the class. As quickly as possible put the vegetable or fruit in the oven to bake. While the baking is in process, take up a general discussion of foods and cooking and a special discussion of the food which is being used and the method of cooking that is being employed. Give as thorough a lesson on the stove and combustion as time permits. Examine the baked article and discuss the methods of serving it, the time for serving, and so on. Use the finished product for the school lunch or have it served daintily in the class. Encourage the pupils to bring a dish to school in order to take the results of their work home for the family meal, if a school lunch is not served or if they do not need a lunch. Give careful directions for washing the dishes and supervise the housework carefully. (See pages 52, 53, _Household Management._) _Note._--It may be necessary to go on with some other recitation before the baking is completed, in which case one member of the class should be appointed to watch the oven. Questions Used to Develop the Lesson What food have we on hand for use to-day? Does this food need cooking? Why? How shall we prepare it for cooking? How shall we prepare the oven? How shall we care for the fire? How long will it be necessary to cook this food? (Time the baking carefully and discuss more thoroughly at the close of the lesson.) How can we tell when it is cooked? How shall we serve it? For what meal shall we serve it? Of what value is it to the body? _Home assignment._--The pupils should prepare the baked dish at home and at the next lesson report the result of their work. _Note._--The recipes given in this Manual are prepared for normal times; but in every case the Regulations of the Canada Food Board should be observed, and substitutes used wherever possible. LESSON II: PREPARING AND SERVING VEGETABLES _Water and mineral matter in vegetables. How to prepare and serve uncooked vegetables--lettuce, cress, cabbage, etc. Cooking by moist heat. How to boil, season, and serve beet tops, turnip tops, cabbage, sprouts, kale, spinach, mustard, or other vegetable greens._ SUBJECT-MATTER _Water._--All fluids and tissues of the body contain large quantities of water, therefore water is regarded as one of the most important food-stuffs required by the body. Practically all foods contain some water. Fresh vegetables and fruits provide the body with a high percentage of water. Water is a valuable medium for cooking. As it heats, small bubbles are formed, which continually increase in number and size, but gradually disappear. Some time before the boiling-point is reached, an occasional large bubble will rise to the surface and disappear. The water has then reached the simmering-point, 185°, a temperature frequently made use of in cooking. When many bubbles form and break, causing a commotion on the surface of the water, the boiling-point, 212°, has been reached. _Mineral matter._--Mineral matter is a second food-stuff that is needed by the body, but the amount required is very small. If a variety of food is used, there is generally sufficient mineral matter in the diet. Fruits and vegetables, especially fresh green vegetables, are comparatively rich in mineral matter. Mineral matter builds up the bones and certain tissues, such as the hair, teeth, and nails, and regulates the body processes by keeping the blood and digestive fluids in proper condition. _Green vegetables._--Green vegetables hold an important place in the diet, because they contain valuable mineral matter. They also contain a high percentage of water and considerable cellulose. With few exceptions they should be eaten raw, because the mineral salts, being soluble, are lost in the water in which they are cooked and because the cellulose serves its purpose best in the crisp form. Cabbage is rendered much more difficult of digestion by cooking. Spinach, beet tops, etc., are more palatable when cooked. The delicately flavoured vegetables should be boiled in a very small amount of water, so that they need not be drained. Thus the mineral matter will be retained when the vegetables are served. PRELIMINARY PLAN There should be provided for the lesson (from the homes of the pupils or the school garden), some fresh vegetables in season; one that can be cooked by boiling and one that can be served uncooked with a simple dressing. One of the pupils should write the recipes on the black-board before the lesson hour. RECIPES _Preparation of Fresh Green Vegetables_[A] Wash the vegetables thoroughly, leaving them in cold water to crisp, if wilted. Keep cool until ready to serve, then arrange daintily, and dress with salt, vinegar, and oil as desired, or prepare a dressing as follows: _Cooked Dressing_ 1/2 tbsp. salt 1 tsp. mustard 1-1/2 tbsp. sugar A few grains pepper 1/2 tbsp. flour 1 egg or yolks of 2 eggs 1-1/2 tbsp. melted butter 3/4 c. milk 1/4 c. vinegar Mix the dry ingredients, add the egg slightly beaten and the butter and the milk. Cook over boiling water until the mixture thickens. Add the vinegar, stirring constantly. Strain and cool. Note.[A]--It may be well to omit from this lesson the uncooked vegetable that is served in the form of a salad and to give it at some other time. It is not well to attempt to teach more than the pupils can master thoroughly. _Recipe for Boiling and Seasoning Fresh Green Vegetables_ Wash the vegetables carefully and put them on to cook in boiling water. Delicately flavoured vegetables (spinach, celery, fresh peas, etc.) will require but little water, and that should be allowed to boil away at the last. If spinach is stirred constantly, no water need be added. Starchy vegetables should be completely covered with water, and strongly flavoured vegetables (as turnips, onions, cabbage, and cauliflower) should be cooked in water at simmering temperature. After the vegetables have cooked for a few minutes, salt should be added, one teaspoonful to each quart of water. Cook the vegetable until it can be easily pierced with a fork. Let the water boil away at the last. If it is necessary to drain, do so as soon as the vegetable is tender. Season with salt, pepper, and butter (1/4 teaspoon salt, 1/8 teaspoon pepper, and 1/2 tablespoon butter to each cup of vegetable). _Note._--The water in which the vegetables are cooked should be saved for soups and sauces, as it contains most of the valuable mineral matter. METHOD OF WORK Discuss the heating of water and apply the facts to cooking. Have the pupils observe and describe the heating of water. If a new tin sauce-pan or other bright tin vessel is at hand in which to heat the water, the changes which take place as the temperature increases will be more readily apparent, and the pupils will enjoy watching the process. Discuss why one vegetable is to be cooked and another served uncooked. Emphasize the cleaning of the vegetable, its structure, composition, and the effect of the boiling water upon it. After the vegetable has been put on to cook, discuss the method of seasoning or dressing the vegetable which is to be served uncooked, and have it prepared attractively to serve on the plates. Especial emphasis should be placed on the use and importance of fresh, green vegetables. Continue the discussion of vegetables, letting the members of the class suggest others that may be prepared as salads or cooked in the manner being illustrated, and write the list on the black-board for the pupils to copy in their note-books. When the cooked vegetable is tender, have it drained, seasoned, and served, and serve the uncooked vegetable at the same time. When ready for serving, let the pupils arrange their plates and forks carefully, then let them all sit down except the two who pass the vegetables. Be sure that they eat carefully and daintily. Emphasize the careful washing of the dishes, etc., as on the previous day. _Questions Used to Develop the Lesson_ How shall we prepare our vegetables for serving? Of what value is hot water in cooking food? How must the vegetable be prepared for boiling? Does this vegetable contain any water? Will it be necessary to add any more? Will it be necessary to cover the sauce-pan? How hot must the water be kept? How can one tell when the water is sufficiently hot? How can we determine when the food has cooked long enough? How shall we serve this vegetable? How does boiling compare with baking-- In the time needed? In the matter of flavour? In the amount of fuel used? In the amount of work necessary? _Home assignment._--Practice in the boiling and the serving of vegetables. LESSON III: THE VALUE OF CARBOHYDRATES IN THE DIET _Potatoes as a source of carbohydrates. The choice, cost, care, composition, food value, and cooking of potatoes, baked squash, steamed squash._ SUBJECT-MATTER _Carbohydrates._--A third class of food-stuffs required by the body is known as the carbohydrates, or sugars and starches. This class of foods is used as fuel, for the production of heat and energy in the body. Excess of carbohydrates may be stored in the body as fatty tissue. _Potatoes._--Potatoes are a cheap source of carbohydrates. They are also valuable for their mineral matter and for the large quantity of water which they contain. Three fourths of the potato is water. The framework of the potato is cellulose, which is an indigestible carbohydrate material. Potatoes have only a small amount of cellulose, however, and they are comparatively easy of digestion. When dry and mealy, they are most digestible. When used for a meal, potatoes should be supplemented by some muscle-building food, such as milk, cheese, eggs, fish, or meat. PRELIMINARY PLAN At some previous period the teacher should have discussed with the pupils the use of potatoes and learned from them the different ways in which they cook them in their homes. She should determine upon some recipes for the lesson that will increase the variety of ways in which potatoes may be served and that will improve the methods used in the homes. Each pupil should be asked to bring one or two potatoes for the lesson. The best methods of cooking and the means of securing variety should be emphasized. RECIPES _Mashed Potatoes_ 6 potatoes 1/4 c. hot milk or cream 1 tbsp. butter 1 tsp. salt Wash and pare the potatoes, boil, drain, dry, and mash (with a potato masher) in the sauce-pan in which they were cooked. Beat them until very light and creamy; add hot milk, butter, and salt, and beat again, re-heat, and serve. Serves six to eight. _Browned Potatoes_ Wash, scrub, and pare potatoes of a uniform size. Parboil for 10 minutes, then put in a dripping-pan with the meat or on a rack in a baking-pan. Baste with fat every 10 minutes, when the meat is basted. Allow about 40 minutes for the potatoes to cook. EXPERIMENT TO SHOW THE PRESENCE OF STARCH IN POTATOES Scrub and pare a potato. Examine a thin cross-section. Grate the potato. Remove the coarse, shredded portion. Examine. Examine the liquid and note any sediment. Heat the liquid and stir until boiling. How has it changed? Examine the portion of the grater. How has the colour changed? Why? _Baked Squash_ Wipe the shell of the squash, cut it into pieces for serving, remove the seeds and stringy portion, place in a dripping-pan, and bake in a slow oven for three quarters of an hour (until tender). Serve at once. _Steamed Squash_ Prepare the squash as for baking, put in a steamer over boiling water, and cook for 30 minutes or until soft. Then scrape the squash from the shell, mash, and season with butter, salt, and pepper. METHOD OF WORK Discuss the composition and structure of the potato. Read over and discuss the recipes that are to be used. Make assignments of work. After the potatoes have been put on to cook, have the class examine a raw potato, following the directions given.[A] [A] Squash is another vegetable containing a high percentage of carbohydrate. The recipe for squash can be used at this time or in some other lesson. If one of the recipes requires the use of the oven, be careful to have the potatoes for it prepared first and as quickly as possible. It may be necessary to proceed with another class, assigning one pupil to take charge of the baking. Special attention should be given to the careful serving of the potatoes. _Home assignment._--Before the next lesson, each pupil should be able to report that she has cooked potatoes at home, using the recipes learned in class. LESSON IV: FRUITS AND VEGETABLES _Food value and use of fruits. Reasons and rules for canning. How to can and use such vegetables as beets, beans, tomatoes, and carrots, and such fruits as figs, grapes, apples, and peaches. The drying of fruits and vegetables._ SUBJECT-MATTER Fruits impart palatability and flavour to other foods and exercise a favourable influence upon the digestive organs, though their food value is low. They contain a high percentage of water and only a small percentage of nutrients. Most fruits are eaten raw and are exceedingly valuable to the body because of the fresh acids they contain. Cooking softens the cellulose of the fruit and, therefore, renders some fruits more easy of digestion. The cooking of fruit is of value chiefly for the purpose of preservation. _The drying of fruits._--Fruits are dried so that they may be preserved for use. Bacteria and moulds, which cause the decay of fruits, need moisture for development and growth. If the moisture is evaporated, the fruits will keep almost indefinitely. Fruits and vegetables can be easily and inexpensively dried. When dried fruits are to be used for the table, they must be washed thoroughly and soaked for several hours, or overnight, in water, so as to restore to them as much water as possible. They should be cooked, until soft, in the same water in which they are soaked. _Canning and preserving._--Other methods of preservation are desirable, in order that vegetables and fruits be made of value for a longer period of time than through their ripening season. Canning is one of the methods most commonly employed in the home, being both easy and satisfactory. Fruit which is to be canned is first sterilized by boiling or steaming, in order to destroy all germs and spores. This can be adequately accomplished by boiling for twenty minutes, but a shorter time is sometimes sufficient. In order to ensure complete success, all germs must also be destroyed on the cans and on everything which comes in contact with the food. This will be effected by boiling or steaming for twenty minutes. The jars, covers, dipper, and funnel should all be placed in cold water, heated until the water comes to the boiling-point, boiled five minutes, and left in the water until just before sealing. As for the rubbers, it will be sufficient to dip them into the boiling water. After the fruit has been put into the can, it must be sealed so that it is perfectly air-tight. In order to do this, it is necessary to have good covers, with new, pliable rubbers, and to see to it that they fit tightly. When the jar is to be filled, it should be placed on a board or wooden table, or on a cloth wrung out of hot water, and should be filled to overflowing. Sugar is not essential to sterilization and is used only to improve the flavour. Both fruits and vegetables can be canned without sugar. However, fruits canned with a large amount of sugar do not spoil readily, for germs develop slowly in a thick syrup. _Methods of canning._--The simplest method of canning is the "Open-kettle Method" employed for small, watery fruits, such as berries, grapes, tomatoes, etc. The fruit is boiled in an open kettle (which permits of the evaporation of some of the water in the fruit) and transferred at once to a sterilized jar, which is immediately sealed. Another and safer method, which secures more complete sterilization without serious change of flavour in the fruit, is that known as the "Cold-pack Method". After being transferred to the cans, the vegetable or fruit is subjected to an additional period of heating of considerable length, or to three periods of briefer length on three successive days. If the three periods of sterilization are used, the process is known as the "Intermittent Method". The Single Process Method is described in the recipe for canned beets. The Intermittent Process proves more satisfactory for canned beans. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should ascertain what fruits and vegetables are most abundant and select for canning those that the class can provide. Each pupil should be asked to bring some vegetable or fruit, some granulated sugar, and a jar in which to can her fruit. If the school does not possess enough kettles or sauce-pans in which to do the cooking, they may be borrowed from the homes. Only one fruit or one vegetable should be taken up at a time, for the preparation necessarily varies slightly, and the different methods will prove confusing. It is not necessary to confine the choice of fruits and vegetables to those mentioned in the recipes included here. The teacher will find it better to base her instruction on the products of the particular time and place. The principles of canning should be taken up at some other period, if possible, in order that the cooking lesson may be devoted entirely to the practical work. RECIPES _Canned Tomatoes_ (Open-kettle Method) Scald and peel the tomatoes. Boil gently for 20 minutes. Sterilize the jars, covers, and rubbers. Stand the jars on a cloth in a pan of hot water or on a board or wooden table. Fill the jars with hot tomatoes, being careful to fill to overflowing and to expel all air bubbles from the jar. Adjust the rubbers and covers. Seal and allow to cool. Test, label, and set away in a cool, dry, dark place. (Cold-pack Method) Scald in water hot enough to loosen the skins. Plunge quickly in cold water and remove the skins. Pack whole or in pieces in the jars. Fill the jars with tomatoes only. Add 1 level teaspoonful of salt to each quart. Place the rubber and cover in position. Partially seal, but not tightly. Place the jars on a rack in a boiler. Pour sufficient warm water into the boiler to come half-way up the jars. Place the filled jars on the rack so as not to touch one another, and pack the spaces between them with cotton, to prevent the jars striking when the water boils. Sterilize for 22 minutes after the water begins to boil. Remove the jars from the boiler. Tighten the covers. Invert to cool, and test the joints. Wrap the jars in paper to prevent bleaching and store in a cool, dry, dark place. This method of cooking is also called "The Hot Water Bath". _Canned Grapes_ (Open-kettle Method) 6 qt. grapes 1 qt. sugar 1/2 c. water Pick over, wash, drain, and remove the stems from the grapes. Separate the pulp from the skins. Cook the pulp 5 minutes and then rub through a sieve that is fine enough to hold back the seeds. Put the water, skins, and pulp into the preserving kettle and heat slowly to the boiling-point. Skim the fruit and then add the sugar. Boil 15 minutes. Put into jars as directed. Sweet grapes may be canned with less sugar; very sour grapes will require more sugar. _Canned Peaches_ Choose firm, solid fruit. Scald long enough to loosen the skins. Peel and cut in halves. If clingstone peaches are used, they may be canned whole. Pack the fruit into sterilized jars, fill with boiling syrup (1 c. sugar to 1-1/2 c. water). Then put on the covers loosely and place on wooden racks in the boiler. Sterilize in hot water bath for 20 minutes. Remove the jars and tighten the covers. Invert to cool, and test the joints. Wrap the jars in paper to prevent bleaching; then store. _Canned Beets_ (Single Process) Wash the beets and boil them until they are nearly tender and the skins come off easily. Remove the skins and carefully pack the beets in a jar. Cover with boiling water, to which one tablespoonful of salt is added for each quart, and put the cover on the jar, but do not fasten it down. Place the jar on a rack or a folded cloth in a large kettle that can be closely covered. Pour enough water into the kettle to reach within two inches of the top of the jar, cover the kettle, bring the water to the boiling-point, and boil from one and one-half to two hours. As the water around the jar boils down, replenish with boiling water, never with cold. Remove the jars and tighten the covers. Invert to cool, and test the joints. Wrap the jars in paper to prevent bleaching; then store. _Note._--In canning beets, if vinegar is added to the water in the proportion of one part vinegar to four parts water, the natural bright colour will be retained. _Canned String Beans and Peas_ (Intermittent Method) Can on the same day that the vegetables are picked. Blanch in boiling water from 2 to 5 minutes. Remove, and plunge into cold water. Pack in sterilized jars. Add boiling water to fill the crevices. Add 1 level teaspoonful of salt to each quart. Place rubbers and covers in position. Set the jars on the rack in the boiler and bring gradually to boiling heat. At the end of an hour's boiling, remove the jars from the boiler. Tighten the clamps or rims and set the jars aside to cool until the following day. Do not let the vegetables cool off in the boiler, as this results in over-cooking. On the second day, loosen the clamps or unscrew the rims, place the jars in warm water, heat again to boiling temperature, and boil for an hour; then remove them again. On the third day, repeat the hour's boiling, as on the preceding day. Corn may be canned successfully in the same way. _Dried Corn_ Pick the corn early in the morning. Immediately husk, silk, and cut the corn from the cob. Spread in a very thin layer on a board, cover with mosquito netting which is kept sufficiently elevated so that it will not come in contact with the corn, place in the hot sun, and leave all day. Before the dew begins to fall, take it into the house and place in an oven that is slightly warm. Leave in the oven overnight and place out in the sun again the next day. Repeat this process until absolutely dry. _String Beans_ String beans are hung up to dry and kept for winter use. METHOD OF WORK If possible, let each pupil can a jar of vegetables or fruit for her own home. If the class is large, let the pupils work in groups of two or three. Begin the lesson with a very brief discussion of how to prepare fruit for canning. Let the pupils proceed with the practical work as quickly as possible. Demonstrate the method of filling and sealing the jars. Assign the care of the jars and the intermittent canning on succeeding days to members of the class, and hold them responsible for the completion of the work. The drying of some vegetables can be undertaken at school, and carefully followed from day to day. It will furnish the pupils with an interesting problem. LESSON V: FATS--VEGETABLES--Continued _Preparation of white sauce to serve with vegetables. How to boil, season, and serve such vegetables as lima or butter beans, string beans, onions, cabbage, corn, beets, turnips, or carrots._ SUBJECT-MATTER _Fats._--Butter belongs to the class of food-stuffs known as fats. It increases the fuel value of those dishes to which it is added. Fats supply heat and energy to the body in a concentrated form. For this reason they should be used in a limited quantity. Fats undergo several changes during the process of digestion, and the excessive use of them interferes with the digestion of other foods and throws a large amount of work upon the digestive organs. Cooked fats are more difficult of digestion than uncooked fats, and other foods cooked with hot fat are rendered more difficult to digest. _Vegetables._--Vegetables should be used when in season, as they are always best and cheapest then. They are better kept in a cold, dry, and dark place. If the vegetables contain starch or tough cellulose, they will require cooking; as raw starch is indigestible, and the harsh cellulose may be too irritating to the digestive tract. In old or exceedingly large vegetables the cellulose may be very tough; hence a long period of cooking is necessary. They should be cooked only until they are tender. Longer cooking may destroy the flavour, render the vegetables difficult of digestion, and cause the colour to change. In very young vegetables the cellulose is delicate and, if young vegetables do not contain much starch, they may be eaten raw. When cooked vegetables are served, they are usually seasoned and dressed with butter (for one cup of vegetables use 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, 1/8 teaspoonful of pepper, and 1/2 tablespoonful of fat), or a sauce is prepared to serve with them. PRELIMINARY PLAN It may be well to have a preliminary lesson devoted to simple experiments with flour, liquid, and fat, in order to determine the best method of combining the ingredients in the white sauce. However, if the lesson period is of sufficient length, a few of these experiments may be performed in connection with it. There should be provided for the lesson some vegetable that is improved by serving with white sauce, and sufficient milk, butter or other fat, flour, and salt for the sauce and the experiments. Discuss with the pupils the fat that is used in their homes, in order to know what is available. The recipes should be written on the black-board before the lesson hour. RECIPES _Stewed Onions_ 1 qt. onions White pepper 2 tbsp. butter 1/4 tsp. salt Peel the onions under cold water. Cover with boiling water, add salt, and simmer until tender. Drain and serve with one cup of white sauce; or omit the sauce and serve seasoned with butter and pepper. Serves six. _Cabbage_ Cut the cabbage into quarters and soak one-half hour in cold salt water to draw out any insects. Chop or shred, cover with boiling water, add salt, and simmer until tender. Drain, and serve with butter, salt, and pepper, or with a sauce. _Carrots_ Scrape the carrots and cut them into large dice or slices. Add boiling water and boil until tender (from 30 to 45 minutes). Drain, and season with butter, salt, and pepper, or serve with white sauce. _String Beans_ String the beans, if necessary, and cut into pieces. Boil in salted water until tender. Season with butter, salt, and pepper, and serve hot. Salt pork may be boiled with the beans, to give them an added flavour. EXPERIMENTS IN USING STARCH FOR THICKENING (Any powdered starch may be used) 1. Boil 1/4 cup of water in a small sauce-pan. While boiling, stir into it 1/2 tsp. of cornstarch and let it boil one minute. Observe the result. Break open a lump and examine it. 2. Mix 1 tsp. of cornstarch with 2 tsp. of cold water and stir into 1/4 cup of boiling water. Note the result. 3. Mix 1 tsp. of cornstarch with 2 tsp. of sugar and stir into 1/4 cup of boiling water. Note the result. 4. Mix 1 tsp. of cornstarch with 2 tsp. of melted fat in a small sauce-pan and stir into it 1/4 cup of boiling water. Note the result. CONCLUSIONS BASED ON THE FOREGOING EXPERIMENTS 1. Starch granules must be separated before being used to thicken a liquid: (1) By adding a double quantity of cold liquid, (2) By adding a double quantity of sugar, (3) By adding a double quantity of melted fat. 2. The liquid which is being thickened must be constantly stirred, to distribute evenly the starch grains until they are cooked. _White Sauce_ 2 tbsp. butter or other fat 2 tbsp. flour 1 c. milk 1/4 tsp. salt 1/8 tsp. pepper (Sufficient for 1 pint vegetables) Melt the butter, add the flour, and stir over the fire until frothy. Add the milk and stir constantly until it thickens. Stir in the seasonings. _Note._--Vegetable water may be substituted for part of the milk. METHOD OF WORK Review the facts on boiling vegetables learned in the previous lesson. Let the pupils put water on to boil and prepare a vegetable for cooking. If experiments are to be made, they can be performed while the vegetable is cooking. If the experiments have been made previously, they can be reviewed in discussion at this time. Prepare a white sauce by demonstration, using the method which seems most practical. Have the vegetables drained, dried, and added to the white sauce. When well-heated, serve. Questions Used to Develop the Lesson What facts regarding the boiling of vegetables did we learn in the last lesson? Does the vegetable that we are to cook to-day differ in any marked way from those we cooked before? Should we follow the same rule in cooking it? Should we add the flour directly to the cold milk? To the hot milk? How shall we combine the white sauce? With what other vegetables can white sauce be used? _Home assignment._--Each pupil should prepare some vegetable and serve it with white sauce, before the next lesson. LESSON VI: CEREALS _Kinds, composition, care, and general rules for cooking cereals. Oatmeal, cracked wheat, corn-meal porridge, rice. Fruits to serve with cereals--stewed prunes, stewed apples, or apple sauce._ SUBJECT-MATTER The term "cereals" is applied to the cultivated grasses--rice, wheat, corn, rye, oats, and buckwheat. They are widely grown throughout the temperate zone and are prepared in various forms for use as food. Cereals contain a high percentage of starch and a low percentage of water, with varying proportions of mineral matter and fat. In addition to the four food-stuffs already studied, cereals contain a small amount of another food-stuff known as protein--a muscle-building material. For the most part, the cereals contain a large amount of cellulose, which is broken up during the process of preparation for market and requires long cooking before being ready for use by the body. The digestibility of the cereals depends upon the amount of cellulose which they contain and the thoroughness of the cooking. Cereals are palatable, and they are valuable, because in cooking they can be blended in various ways with other substances. They are beneficial also to the body, because their cellulose acts mechanically on the digestive organs by stimulating them to action. Cereals are made more attractive by serving with fresh or cooked fruit. PRELIMINARY PLAN The cereals should be discussed in a nature study or geography lesson, and two or three kinds that are in common use should be brought from home by the pupils. If cereals are not generally used as breakfast foods, the lesson may be a means of introducing them. Some pupils should bring a little milk and sugar, to serve with the cooked cereal. Apples or prunes should be brought, to cook and serve with the cereal. RECIPES _Oatmeal_ 3 c. boiling water 3/4 c. oatmeal 3/4 tsp. salt Add the oatmeal slowly to boiling salted water. Boil for 10 minutes, stirring constantly, then cook slowly, preferably over water, at least one and one-half hours longer; the flavour is developed by longer cooking. Serves six. _Cracked Wheat_ Follow the recipe for oatmeal, using 3/4 c. of cracked wheat. _Corn-meal Porridge_ 4 c. boiling water 3/4 c. corn-meal 1 tsp. salt Add the corn-meal slowly to boiling salted water. Boil for 10 minutes, stirring constantly, then cook slowly for three hours longer, preferably over water. Serves six to eight. _Boiled Rice_ 3 qt. boiling water 1 c. rice 2 tsp. salt Pick the rice over carefully and wash thoroughly. Add it to the boiling salted water so gradually that it will not stop boiling. Partly cover and cook for 20 minutes, or until the grains are soft; turn into a colander, and pour cold water through it, drain, dry, and re-heat in a hot oven with door open. Serve hot as a vegetable or as a simple dessert with cream and sugar. Serves six to eight. _Stewed Prunes_ 1/2 lb. prunes 1 qt. cold water Wash the prunes in two or three waters; then soak them in cold water for several hours. Heat them in the water in which they are soaked and simmer until tender (an hour or more). Serves six to eight. _Stewed Apples_ 10 small apples 1/2 c. sugar 3/4 c. water Cook the sugar and water together until it boils. Wash, pare, and cut the apples into quarters; core, and slice the quarters lengthwise into 1/4-inch slices; put the apple slices into boiling syrup and cook slowly until tender. Remove from the syrup at once and let the syrup boil down to thicken. _Apple Sauce_ 10 small apples 1/2 c. sugar 3/4 c. water Wipe, quarter, core, and pare sour apples; add the water and cook until the apples begin to soften; add the sugar and flavouring, cook until the apples are very soft, then press through a strainer and beat well. Serves eight to ten. METHOD OF WORK As soon as the class meets, discuss the recipes briefly and put the cereals on to cook at once. Prepare the fruit. While the long cooking of the cereal is in progress, discuss the composition, food value, and methods of using cereals. Then go on with another lesson and call the class together, for serving, later in the day. Serve the fruit and the cereals together. LESSON VII: CLASSIFICATION OF FOODS--Reviewed SUBJECT-MATTER Those foods which build up and repair the muscular tissues of the body are called protein foods, muscle builders, or flesh formers. Meat, fish, eggs, cheese, milk, cereals, legumes, and nuts are classed as protein foods. Those foods which serve solely as fuel for the body--providing heat and energy--are classed under two groups: the carbohydrates (sugar and starches), which the body is able to use in relatively large quantities; and the fats, which the body cannot use in such large quantities, but which yield a large amount of heat and energy. Protein also serves as fuel, though tissue building is regarded as its special function. Sugars and starches are abundant in fruits and vegetables. Fats are found in meats, fish, milk, and in some vegetable foods. Heat-giving food may be stored in the body as fatty tissue. Mineral compounds must be present in our food, to help in the regulation of the body processes and to enter into the composition of the structure and the fluids of the body. Mineral compounds are best supplied by fresh green vegetables, fruits, and milk. Water is absolutely essential to the body, is present in large quantities in many foods, and is combined with many other foods during the processes of cooking. One or more of the food-stuffs sometimes predominate in a single food. For example, rice is almost entirely carbohydrate, and butter is almost pure fat. Occasionally, we find a food that contains all the five groups of food principles. Milk is an example of such a food, containing all five food principles in such proportions as to supply all the nourishment which a baby needs during the early months of its life. As the child grows older, foods rich in both carbohydrates must be added to the diet. Wheat contains all that the body needs for nourishment except water, which is easily added in cooking. _Protein foods_ _Carbohydrate foods_ Meats Sugar Fish Honey Poultry Syrup Eggs Vegetables: Cheese Potatoes Milk Parsnips Cereals: Peas Wheat Beets Oatmeal Carrots Rye Cereal preparations: Legumes: Meals Peas Flours, etc. Beans Fruits Lentils Prepared foods: Peanuts Bread Nuts Crackers Macaroni Jellies Dried fruits Candy Milk _Fat foods_ _Mineral foods_ Cream Fruits Butter Vegetables: Lard Spinach Suet Tomatoes Fat meats Onions Fish Turnip tops Salad oil Cauliflower Nuts Cereals: Chocolate Grits and other coarse preparations Milk Eggs _Choice of food._--The diet must be carefully chosen, to give a needed variety and to combine the foods properly so that one may have a right proportion of all the food-stuffs. Each meal should contain some protein food, some fats or carbohydrates, some mineral matter, and water. All five forms of food-stuffs should have a place in the day's diet. The greater part of the water which the body needs should be taken between meals. METHOD OF WORK Review the foods discussed in the previous lessons and sum up the classification of foods, being sure that the pupils can name common examples of each. Discuss simple combinations for the different meals, using dishes already prepared in the course and creating an interest in other recipes to be prepared in succeeding lessons. BLACK-BOARD SUMMARY There are five food principles: 1. _Water_--builds and repairs the tissues, regulates the system-- found in all food-stuffs. 2. _Mineral matter_--builds and repairs the tissues, regulates the system-- found in vegetables, fruits, cereal, and so on. 3. _Carbohydrates_--give heat and energy to the body-- found in sugar and starches. 4. _Fats_--give heat and energy to the body-- found in cream, nuts, pork, and so on. 5. Protein--builds and repairs the tissues-- found in meat, eggs, cheese, seeds. Always choose a diet carefully: 1. To give variety. 2. To combine the foods properly, so that they will contain adequate proportions of each food-stuff at every meal. LESSON VIII: THE PLANNING AND SERVING OF MEALS SUBJECT-MATTER Experience has shown that some foods are more acceptable at one time of day than other foods, and that certain combinations are more pleasing than others. The choice of foods will also depend upon the season of the year. For example, breakfast is, as a rule, made up of simple foods that are not highly seasoned nor subjected to elaborate methods of cooking. A fruit, a cereal, and bread, with, possibly, eggs or meat, are served at breakfast. A hot beverage is added by most people to this meal. Fundamentally, dinner consists of a hot meat or other protein dish, with one or two vegetables. Soup, salad, and a sweet dessert are often served. The soup is served before the meat course, and the salad and dessert follow it. The dessert may be a fruit, a cookie or other pastry, a pudding, or a frozen dish. Lunch or supper may be a very simple meal, consisting of a soup with crackers, one protein dish (eggs, milk, or meat) with bread and stewed fruit, or a salad, with a simple dessert. EXAMPLES OF WELL-CHOSEN MENUS _Breakfast_ No. I Apple sauce Sausage or bacon Oatmeal Toast No. II Baked apples Eggs in the shell Cracked wheat Corn muffins No. III Stewed figs or berries Poached eggs Corn-meal porridge Toast Note.--Eggs should be omitted from the breakfast menu if they are not cheap and easily obtainable. _Dinner_ No. I Pork chops Potatoes Fried apples Mashed turnips Bread Rice pudding No. II Beef or mutton stew Biscuits Spinach or turnip tops Cornstarch pudding No. III Baked beans Grape sauce Cabbage salad Bread or biscuits _Supper_ No. I Stewed apricots or other fruit Whole wheat bread Buttermilk or sweet milk Peanut cookies No. II Omelet Creamed potatoes Bread Fresh fruit No. III Cream of carrot soup Biscuits Cottage cheese Syrup The table should always be neatly set, with individual places arranged for each one who is to partake of the meal. Each place should be wide enough for a plate, with a knife and spoon at the right and a fork at the left side. A tumbler should be placed at the point of the knife and a napkin at the left of the fork. Everything on the table should be perfectly clean, the napkin should be neatly folded, and all the articles should be uniformly arranged, in order to give a neat appearance to the table. A flower or plant in the centre will add to its attractiveness. Salt, pepper, sugar, vinegar, and anything of the kind that may be needed with the meal should be arranged where it can be easily reached. Fresh water should be poured into the tumblers just before the meal is served. The bread, butter, and so on, may be put on the table several minutes before the meal is announced, but the hot dishes should be placed immediately before the family is seated. PRELIMINARY PLAN If Lesson VI, entitled "Setting and Clearing the Table" as outlined in the course on the Care of the Home has been given, this lesson may be devoted to what to serve and how to serve it, or it may precede the lesson on "Waiting on Table". The manner of serving may be demonstrated in the next lesson, in connection with the course on the Care of the Home. Simple equipment for family service will be required, if the form of serving is to be taken up. For class practice, a table for four may be arranged. This will necessitate a table-cover, four dinner plates, four bread-and-butter plates, four tumblers, four cups and saucers, four knives, four forks, four teaspoons, four napkins, a platter, one serving spoon, and one serving fork. METHOD OF WORK Discuss meal service from the standpoint both of choice and combination of foods and of the method of service. Let the class plan a meal, then go through the form of serving that meal at table. In the absence of a table, the top of a desk may be used. Later in the course, the teacher should plan to combine this lesson with one on cooking and have the food served. In each cooking lesson, suggestions for serving the food should be made, and each dish cooked should be carefully served. Interest in this lesson may be increased by allowing the pupils to make original menus, and, if they are having some lessons in drawing, simple menu cards may be planned and executed. LESSON IX: MILK _Care, cost, and food value of milk. Value and use of sour milk--cottage cheese, curdled milk. Rice or cornstarch pudding (plain, caramel, or chocolate)._ SUBJECT-MATTER Milk contains all the food-stuffs which the body requires, except starch, and, therefore, is capable of sustaining life for comparatively long periods. It is one of the most important protein foods; but it contains so small a percentage of carbohydrate (milk sugar) that for the adult it must be supplemented with carbohydrate foods. For the baby, milk is a perfect food, and it is a valuable adjunct to the diet of all children. One quart of milk should be allowed for the diet of each child daily, after the twelfth month; and the diet of the adult should be supplemented by the use of milk. The greatest care should be exercised in protecting milk from dust and dirt, for it is easily contaminated and may be the means of carrying disease germs to the body. The changes which milk undergoes when souring do not render it harmful. For many people buttermilk is more easy of digestion than sweet milk, because of the changes produced by souring, as well as the absence of fat. Sour milk is of value in cooking, producing a tender bread which can readily be made light by the addition of soda--one teaspoonful of soda to one pint of sour milk that has curdled. In the preparation of cheese, the whey is separated from the curds, thus extracting most of the water, sugar, and mineral matter, and leaving a substance rich in protein and fat. Cheese is of value in cooking, for it increases the food value of those foods to which it is added. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should make inquiries a few days in advance, to be sure that one quart of sour milk can be secured, and, when it is brought, she should examine it to see that it is in proper condition to make cottage cheese. She should arrange to have about one quart of sweet milk and such other supplies as are necessary for the pudding, brought by the pupils. An opportunity may be afforded to discuss the use of left-over cereal by the preparation of a rice pudding, if the teacher provides some cold cooked rice for the lesson. In the absence of cold rice, the cornstarch pudding may be prepared. RECIPES _Cottage Cheese_ Heat sour milk slowly until the whey rises to the top, pour the whey off, put the curd in a bag, and let it drip for six hours without squeezing. Put the curd into a bowl and break into fine pieces with a wooden spoon; season with salt and mix into a paste with a little cream or butter. Mould into balls, if desired, and keep in a cold place. (It is best when fresh.) _Rice Pudding_ 1/2 c. rice 2 c. milk 2 eggs 1/3 c. sugar 1/8 tsp. salt 1/2 tsp. vanilla Scald the milk in a double boiler. Add the prepared rice and cook until soft. Beat the egg-yolks, sugar, and salt together until well mixed. Stir into the rice and cook for 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and serve cold. Serves eight. _Cornstarch Pudding_ 1/4 c. sugar 5 tbsp. cornstarch, or 1/2 c. flour 1 tsp. vanilla, or other flavouring 3 c. milk 1 egg Mix the sugar and cornstarch thoroughly. Add one cup of cold milk and stir until smooth. Heat the remainder of the milk in a double boiler; add the cornstarch mixture slowly, stirring constantly until it begins to thicken. Continue cooking for 20 minutes. Beat the egg well, add the hot pudding slowly, strain, and cool. Serve with milk or cream and sugar. (The egg may be omitted, if desired.) Serves eight. For chocolate cornstarch pudding, use 1/4 cup of sugar additional and two squares of chocolate. Melt the chocolate carefully, add the sugar, and add to the cornstarch mixture. For caramel cornstarch pudding, use 1 cup of brown sugar and 1/2 cup of boiling water. Heat the sugar until it becomes a light-brown liquid, add the boiling water, and stir until the sugar is all dissolved. Let it cool; then add to the cornstarch mixture. METHOD OF WORK As soon as the class meets, demonstrate the method of making cottage cheese. Show the separation of curd and whey, by adding vinegar or lemon juice to sweet milk. While the cheese is draining, make assignments of work and have the rice or cornstarch pudding made. In this lesson and in those following emphasize the use of protein foods. Discuss also the food value of skimmed milk and sour milk and the purposes for which these may be used in cooking. Use the cottage cheese and the pudding for the school lunch. LESSON X: SOUPS _Cream soups. Cream of carrot, potato, or onion soup, green pea soup. Toast, croutons, or crisp crackers to serve with soup._ SUBJECT-MATTER _Cream soups._--The strained pulp of cooked vegetables or legumes, with an equal portion of thin white sauce, is the basis for cream soups. The liquid for the soup may be all milk, part vegetable water and part milk, or all vegetable water. A binding of flour is used to prevent a separation of the thicker and the thinner parts of the soup. This is combined as for white sauce and is stirred into the hot liquid just before the soup is to be served. The soup should be made in a double boiler and kept in this utensil until it is served. Four tablespoons of flour to each quart of soup is a good proportion to use for thickening all vegetable soups that are not of a starchy nature; half that amount will be sufficient for soup prepared from a very starchy vegetable. The value of the vegetable water should be impressed upon the pupils, and it should be pointed out that these soups are an excellent way of using the cooking water and any left-over vegetables. From these, attractive cream soups may be prepared, and a combination of flavours often gives good results. _Accompaniments._--Crisp crackers, croutons, soup sticks, or bread sticks are served with cream soups, and are valuable because they necessitate thorough mastication, thus inducing the flow of saliva and aiding in the digestion of the starchy ingredients of the soups. PRELIMINARY PLAN As a basis for the soup, the teacher should secure a vegetable that the pupils use in their own homes, and crackers or bread to serve with the soup. If dried peas are used, they should be allowed to soak overnight and be put on to cook early in the morning. It will be well to have the cooking of the carrots begun before the lesson period. If the carrots are cut up in small pieces, they will cook more quickly. RECIPES _Cream of Carrot Soup_ 1 c. cooked carrots 2 c. vegetable water 2 c. milk 4 tbsp. flour 2 tbsp. butter Salt and pepper to taste Press the vegetables through a sieve or chop finely; put the vegetable water on to heat. Mix the flour smoothly with an equal measure of milk and thin it with a little more of the milk. Stir into the steaming liquid, stirring constantly until it thickens. Stir in the butter, vegetable pulp, and remaining milk. Season to taste and serve hot. Serves six. _Cream of Potato Soup_ 1 pt. milk or milk and water 2 tsp. chopped onions 3 potatoes 1 tbsp. butter 1 tbsp. flour 1 tsp. salt 1/8 tsp. pepper 2 tsp. chopped parsley Put the milk to heat in a double boiler. Boil the potatoes and onion together until soft, then rub the liquid and pulp through a strainer into the hot milk. Bind with the flour, add the seasonings, and serve hot. Serves four. _Pea Soup_ 1 c. split peas 2-1/2 qt. water 2 tbsp. chopped onion 3 tbsp. butter 3 tbsp. flour 1-1/2 tsp. salt 1/8 tsp. pepper 1 pt. milk Wash the peas and soak them overnight in cold water, drain and rinse thoroughly, add 2-1/2 quarts of cold water and the onion, cook slowly until soft, rub the liquid and pulp through a strainer, and bind with the flour. Add the milk and the seasonings and serve hot. Serves six to eight. _Toast_ Cut stale bread into slices one quarter of an inch thick; put on the toaster or fork, move gently over the heat until dry, then brown by placing near the heat, turning constantly. Bread may be dried in the oven before toasting. Hot milk may be poured over dry toast. _Croutons_ Cut stale bread into one-half-inch cubes and brown in the oven. _Crisp Crackers_ Put the crackers into the oven for a few minutes, or split and butter thick crackers, and brown in a hot oven; serve with soup. METHOD OF WORK Devote a few minutes to a discussion of cream soups and a review of the cooking of vegetables and white sauce. Divide the work among the members of the class, assigning enough to each pupil to keep her busy, arranging the work so that the soup and its accompaniments will be ready for serving at the same time. LESSON XI: EGGS _Food value and general rules for cooking eggs. Cooked in shell, poached, scrambled, and omelet._ SUBJECT-MATTER Eggs are a very valuable food, because of the large amount of protein and fat they contain. Though lacking in carbohydrates, they furnish material for building up the muscles and provide heat and energy to the body. If cooked at a low temperature, eggs are very easily and very completely digested. Combined with other foods, they serve as a thickening agent (for sauces and soups) and as a means of making batters light (popovers and sponge cake). They add flavour and colour and increase the nutritive value of other foods. PRELIMINARY PLAN The lesson on eggs furnishes one of the best opportunities to teach the muscle-building foods. If eggs are scarce, it may be well to give this lesson at some other time. Each pupil should be asked to bring an egg; one or two should bring a little milk; and sufficient bread should be provided to toast for the poached eggs. The teacher should not undertake to give too many recipes in this lesson, but should try to make the pupils familiar with a sufficient variety of ways of using eggs to make egg cookery interesting. The necessity of having a moderate temperature for the cooking of eggs should be emphasized. RECIPES _Soft-cooked Eggs_ Put the eggs in boiling water sufficient to cover them, remove from the fire, cover, and allow them to stand from 5 to 8 minutes. _Hard-cooked Eggs_ Put the eggs in cold water, heat, and, when the water boils, reduce the heat, and let them stand for 20 minutes with water just below the boiling-point, then put them into cold water. _Poached Eggs_ Break each egg into a saucer carefully, slip the egg into boiling water, decrease the heat, and cook for 5 minutes, or until the white is firm and a film has formed over the yolk. Take up with a skimmer, drain, trim off the rough edges, and serve on slices of toast. Season. Poached eggs are attractive when covered with white sauce to which chopped parsley has been added. _Baked Eggs_ Line a buttered baking-dish with buttered bread crumbs or with cold mashed potatoes. Break the eggs in the dish without separating and add one tablespoon of milk or cream for each egg. Season with salt and pepper and sprinkle with grated cheese, if desired. Bake in a moderate oven until the eggs are set. _Creamed Eggs_ 3 hard-boiled eggs 6 slices toast 1 c. medium white sauce Prepare a white sauce. Add hard-boiled eggs cut in halves, sliced, or chopped and, when hot, serve on toast. Or separate the whites and yolks, chop the whites fine, add to the white sauce and, when hot, serve on toast and garnish with yolks run through a sieve or ricer. Season with salt and pepper. Serves four to six. _Creamy Omelet_ 1 egg 1/4 tsp. salt Pepper 1/2 tsp. butter 1 tbsp. milk Beat the egg slightly, add the milk and seasonings, put the butter in the hot omelet pan and, when melted, turn in the mixture. As it cooks, draw the edges toward the centre until the whole is of a creamy consistency, brown quickly underneath, fold, and turn on a hot platter. Serve at once. Serves one. _Scrambled Eggs_ Double the quantity of milk given for Creamy Omelet and stir all the time while cooking. _Foamy Omelet_[A] 1 egg 1/8 tsp. salt 1 tbsp. milk or water 1/2 tsp. butter Cayenne or white pepper Beat the yolk of the egg until creamy, add seasoning and milk. Beat the white until stiff, but not dry, cut and fold into the yolk carefully. Heat an omelet pan, rub the bottom and sides with the butter, and turn in the omelet, spreading it evenly on the pan. Cook gently over the heat until the omelet is set and evenly browned underneath. Put it into a hot oven for a few minutes, to dry slightly on top, fold, and serve immediately. Serves one. METHOD OF WORK Devote one half of the class period to a discussion of the structure of the egg and the effect of heat upon it. Use simple experiments or watch the poached egg, to make a study of the changes produced in the egg by the application of heat. If the pupils are sufficiently experienced, let them work together in small groups, first scrambling an egg, then making an omelet. Demonstrate the cooking of the omelet before the entire class. Serve the egg dishes carefully while hot. [A] The omelet recipes given are for individual portions. To make a large omelet, multiply the quantity of each ingredient by the number of eggs used. The best results will be obtained by making an omelet of not more than four eggs, as larger omelets are difficult to cook thoroughly and to handle well. A two-egg omelet will serve three people. A four-egg omelet will serve six people. LESSON XII: SIMPLE DESSERTS--CUSTARDS SUBJECT-MATTER A custard is a combination of eggs and milk, usually sweetened and flavoured, and either steamed, or baked as cup custard, or cooked in a double boiler as soft custard. The whole egg may be used or the yolks alone. The yolks make a smoother, richer custard. The eggs must be thoroughly mixed, but not beaten light, the sugar and salt added, and the milk scalded and stirred in slowly. The custard must be strained through a fine sieve and cooked at a moderate temperature. It is desirable to strain a custard, in order to remove the cords and pieces of the membrane which inclosed the yolk. The cup custard should be strained before cooking, the soft custard may be strained afterwards. A soft custard is cooked over water and is stirred constantly until done. When done, the froth disappears from the surface, the custard is thickened and coats the spoon and sides of the pan, and there is no sign of curdling. If the custard is cooked too long, it becomes curdled. If it becomes curdled, put it into a pan of cold water and beat until smooth. A steamed or baked custard is done when it becomes set and when a silver knife will come out clean after cutting it. PRELIMINARY PLAN This lesson will furnish an opportunity for a review of milk and eggs. The pupils should arrange to bring the necessary materials from their homes. RECIPES _Steamed Custards_ 1 qt. milk (heated) 4 eggs or 8 egg yolks 1/2 c. sugar 1/4 tsp. salt 2 tbsp. caramel or 1/2 tsp. nutmeg Beat the eggs sufficiently to mix them thoroughly; add the sugar, salt, and hot milk slowly. Strain into cups, flavour with caramel, or sprinkle nutmeg on top, and steam until firm over gently boiling water--from 20 to 30 minutes. _Baked Custards_ Prepare as for Steamed Custards, set in a pan of hot water, and bake in a slow oven until firm--from 20 to 40 minutes. _Chocolate Custards_ Use the recipe for Steamed Custards, adding 1 ounce of chocolate (melted) to the hot milk. Steam or bake as desired. _Soft Custard_ 1 pt. milk (heated) 4 egg yolks 1/16 tsp. salt 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract 4 tbsp. sugar Beat the egg yolks sufficiently to mix them thoroughly, add the sugar, salt, and hot milk slowly. Cook over water that is boiling gently. Stir constantly until the custard thickens. Strain. Flavour when cool. For soft Chocolate Custard add 1/2 ounce chocolate (melted) to the hot milk. Serves six. _Floating Island_ Use recipe for Soft Custard and, when cold, garnish with a meringue made according to the following recipe: _Meringue_ 4 egg whites 1/4 c. powdered sugar Beat the egg whites very light, add powdered sugar, and continue beating. Drop in large spoonfuls on the cold custard. Serves eight to ten. METHOD OF WORK It may be possible to teach two or three recipes in this lesson. The baked custard may be put into the oven while the soft custard or floating island is being made. Serve at the school lunch. LESSON XIII: BATTERS AND DOUGHS _Griddle Cakes_ SUBJECT-MATTER _Batters._--Batters are mixtures of flour or meal and a liquid, with salt or sugar to give flavour, butter to make tender, and steam, air, or gas to make light. One scant measure of liquid is used with one measure of flour for thin, or pour, batter. One measure of liquid is used with two measures of flour for a thick, or drop, batter. One measure of liquid is used with three measures of flour for a soft, or bread, dough. One measure of liquid is used with four measures of flour for a stiff, or pastry, dough. Before mixing a batter, the oven or griddle should be at the proper temperature, with the fire well regulated and in good condition. The oven should be tested by putting in a piece of white paper or two tablespoonfuls of flour, which should brown in three minutes. The pans should be prepared by greasing with lard, salt pork, or beef dripping. All the materials should be measured and ready before beginning to combine the ingredients. When the batter has been mixed and beaten until smooth, it should be baked at once. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher will be better prepared to give the lesson on batters if she first makes herself familiar with the kinds of breads that are used in the homes of the pupils and the methods followed in their preparation. The simple, general methods of preparing batters should be taught. The teacher should not attempt the preparation of more than one or two batters in this lesson. RECIPES _Sour-milk Griddle Cakes_ 2-1/2 c. flour 1/2 tsp. salt 1-1/4 tsp. soda 1 egg 2 c. sour milk Mix and sift the flour, salt, and soda; add the sour milk and egg well beaten. Drop, by spoonfuls, on a greased hot griddle; cook on one side. When puffed full of bubbles and cooked on the edges, turn, and cook on the other side. Serve with butter and maple syrup. _Sweet-milk Griddle Cakes_ 3 c. flour 1-1/2 tbsp. baking-powder 1 tsp. salt 1/4 c. sugar 2 c. milk 1 egg 2 tbsp. melted butter Mix and sift the dry ingredients, beat the egg, add the milk, and pour on the first mixture. Beat thoroughly and add the butter. Cook the same as Sour-milk Griddle Cakes. METHOD OF WORK Discuss batters briefly. Have all measurements made, the fire regulated, the pans prepared, and so on. Demonstrate the mixing and cooking of Griddle Cakes. Serve the cakes daintily after they are cooked. LESSON XIV: BATTERS AND DOUGHS--Continued _Muffins--Baking-powder Biscuits_ SUBJECT-MATTER _Methods of making batters light._--Batters are made light by beating air into them, by adding eggs into which air has been beaten, or by entangling gas in the batter. Gas is secured by using soda and sour milk in a batter (one teaspoon of soda to one pint of sour milk), or soda with molasses (one teaspoon of soda to one cup of molasses), or soda with cream of tartar (one teaspoon of soda with two slightly rounding teaspoons of cream of tartar). The soda should be mixed well with the other dry ingredients, then the sour milk or molasses added, the whole beaten up quickly, and baked at once. Baking-powder is a preparation containing soda and cream of tartar, and may be used in place of soda if sweet milk is used. Two level teaspoonfuls of baking-powder should be used with one cup of flour. PRELIMINARY PLAN This lesson is a continuation of the lesson on batters. Care should be taken not to undertake more than can be done well in the time available. RECIPES _Graham Muffins_ 1 c. graham flour 1 c. flour 1/4 c. sugar 1 tsp. salt 1 c. milk 1 egg 1 tbsp. melted butter 4 tsp. baking-powder Mix and sift the dry ingredients. Gradually add the milk, the egg well-beaten, and the melted butter. Bake in a hot oven in greased gem pans for 25 minutes. _Plain Muffins_ 1/4 c. butter 1/4 c. sugar 1 egg 3/4 c. milk 2 c. flour 3 tsp. baking-powder Cream the butter, add the sugar and egg well beaten, sift the baking-powder with the flour, and add to the first mixture, alternating with the milk. Bake in greased gem pans for 25 minutes. _Baking-powder Biscuits_ 2 c. flour 4 tsp. baking-powder 1 tsp. salt 2 tbsp. fat 3/4 to 1 c. milk or water Sift the dry ingredients together, chop the fat into the flour with a knife, slowly add sufficient milk to make a dough not too soft to be handled. Toss and roll the dough gently on a slightly-floured board and cut into small biscuits. Moisten the tops with a little milk. Handle the dough quickly, lightly, and as little as possible. Place on a buttered sheet. Bake in a hot oven till brown--from 12 to 15 minutes. Either white or whole wheat flour may be used for the biscuits. Serves six to eight. Oven test--the oven should be hot enough to colour a piece of unglazed white paper to a golden brown in one minute. _Soda Biscuits_ 2 c. flour 1/2 tsp. soda (scant) 1/2 tsp. salt 1 c. sour milk (scant) 2 tbsp. shortening (lard or other fat) Proceed as for Baking-powder Biscuits. If the sour milk is not thick enough to curdle, it will not contain sufficient acid to neutralize the soda, and the biscuits will be yellow and bitter. To avoid this, cream of tartar may be mixed with the soda (1 teaspoonful). If there is no cream of tartar at hand, it will be wise to use the recipe for Baking-powder Biscuits. METHOD OF WORK Have the oven and pans prepared and all the measurements made. Demonstrate the mixing of the muffins and, while these are baking, the mixing of the biscuits. Have one pupil take charge of the baking of the muffins and another of the baking of the biscuits. When the breads are done, have the class sit down and serve them to one another, or to all the pupils at the school lunch hour. LESSON XV: MEATS _Composition and food value. How to make tough cuts of meat palatable. Pork chops with fried apples. Beef or mutton stew with vegetables and dumplings. Rabbit stew. Bacon._ SUBJECT-MATTER Meats are rich in protein and usually in fats, but are lacking in the carbohydrates. They build up the muscular tissue, furnish heat and energy, are more stimulating and strengthening than any other food, and satisfy hunger for a greater length of time. For the most part, meats are a very expensive food. One cannot perform more labour by the use of a meat diet than on a diet of vegetable foods. Those who use large quantities of meat suffer from many disturbances of the system. Hence it should form a very small part of the diet. The cuts of meat that come from those portions of the animal's body that are much exercised are tough, owing to the development of the connective tissues, but they contain a high percentage of nutrition. For the same reason, the meat from older animals is apt to be tough. The flesh of chickens, turkeys, and other fowls is very nutritious and is easily digested if not too fat. The flavour of meats is developed by cooking. Dry heat develops the best flavour, hence the tender cuts are cooked by the processes known as broiling and roasting. Tough cuts of meat require long, slow cooking in moist heat, hence they are prepared in the form of stews and pot roasts or are used in meat soups. PRELIMINARY PLAN After the teacher has found out what meats are used in the homes or what the school can afford to use, she should determine upon a method of cooking that will make the meat palatable, digestible, and attractive. If it can be prepared as a stew, she should use a recipe in which vegetables are also used and, if possible, have dumplings prepared to serve with the meat, as a review of the lesson on batters. RECIPES _Beef or Mutton Stew_ 2 lb. beef or mutton 1 qt. water Salt, pepper, flour to dredge 1 onion, cut in slices 1/2 c. turnip cut in dice 3/4 c. carrot cut in dice 4 potatoes cut in 1/2-inch slices 1 tsp. salt 1/4 tsp. pepper 1/2 c. flour 1/4 c. cold water Remove the fat and cut the meat into 1-inch pieces. Reserve half of the best pieces of meat, put the rest of the meat and the bone into cold water, soak for one hour, then heat until it bubbles. Season half the raw meat and roll it in the flour, melt the fat in a frying-pan, remove the scraps, brown the sliced onion and then the floured meat in the hot fat, add both to the stew, and cook for 2 hours at a low temperature. To this add the vegetables and cook 1/2 hour; then add the flour and seasonings, which have been mixed with one-half cup of cold water, and cook for 1/2 hour longer, until the meat and vegetables are tender. Remove the bone from the stew and serve. Serves six to eight. _Rabbit_ If beef and mutton are not commonly used and are not readily obtainable, but rabbit can be secured, substitute rabbit for beef in the stew. After the rabbit has been thoroughly cleaned, cut up in eight pieces (four leg and four body pieces), season, and dredge with flour, brown in the fat, and proceed as with Beef Stew. _Dumplings_ 2 c. flour 4 tsp. baking-powder 1/2 tsp. salt 2 tbsp. fat (lard or butter) 3/4 c. milk or water (about) Sift the dry ingredients together, cut in the butter, and add the milk gradually, to make a soft dough. Roll out on a floured board, cut with a biscuit cutter, lay on top of meat in a stew pan (they should not sink into the liquid), cover the kettle closely, keep the stew boiling, and cook the dumplings for 10 minutes without removing the lid. (Do not put the dumplings in to cook until the meat is tender.) _Note._--If desired, the rolling may be eliminated and, after mixing, the dough may be dropped by spoonfuls into the stew. _To Cook Bacon_ Place thin slices of bacon from which the rind has been removed in a hot frying-pan, and pour off the fat as fast as it melts. Cook until the bacon is crisp and brown, turning frequently. Another method of cooking is to lay the bacon on a rack in a baking-pan and bake in a hot oven until crisp and brown. _Pork Chops_ Wipe the chops with a damp cloth, and place in a hot frying-pan. Turn frequently at first and cook slowly until well browned on each side. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. _Fried Apples_ Wash and core the apples and slice to the centre. Roll in flour if very juicy. After the chops have been removed from the pan, lay the apples in and cook till tender. Serve around the chops. METHOD OF WORK If the meat is to require two or three hours' cooking, arrange to have the lesson divided and given at two periods through the day. Half an hour before opening the morning session or a portion of the morning or noon recess may be sufficient time to put the meat on to cook and to prepare the vegetables. When the second class period is called, the vegetables should be added to the partially cooked meat and the dumplings should be made. It would be well to serve the completed dish at the lunch period. There should be as much discussion regarding the kinds of meat, their food value, and the methods of cooking as time permits; but it may be necessary to complete this discussion at some other class period. Should it be possible for the teacher to give additional lessons on meat, it might be well to devote one lesson to the preparation and cooking of poultry, directions for which may be secured from any reliable cook-book. LESSON XVI: BAKED PORK AND BEANS--BAKING-POWDER BISCUITS SUBJECT-MATTER Peas, beans, and lentils which are dried for market contain a high percentage of protein, carbohydrate, and mineral matter. They form an excellent substitute for meat and are much cheaper in price. The digestion of leguminous foods proceeds slowly, involving a large amount of work: on this account they are not desirable for invalids, but they are satisfactory for those who are well and active. The dried legumes must be soaked overnight in water and then cooked for a long time, in order to soften the cellulose and develop the flavour. PRELIMINARY PLAN It will be necessary to plan this lesson several days in advance, if the beans are to be baked. As they will be prepared and put on to bake before the lesson period, the Baking-powder Biscuits may be made during the lesson, to serve with them. RECIPE _Boston Baked Beans_ 1 qt. navy beans 1 tbsp. salt 1/2 tbsp. mustard 3 tbsp. sugar 2 tbsp. molasses 1 c. boiling water 1/2 lb. fat salt pork Boiling water to cover Look over the beans and soak them in cold water overnight. In the morning drain, cover with fresh water, and simmer them until the skins will burst, but do not let the beans become broken. Scald one-half pound of fat salt pork. Scrape the pork. Put a slice in the bottom of the bean pot. Cut the remaining pork across the top in strips just through the rind, and bury the pork in beans, leaving the rind exposed. Add one cup of boiling water to seasonings and pour over the beans. Cover with boiling water. Bake slowly, adding more water as necessary. Bake from 6 to 8 hours, uncover at the last, so that the water will evaporate and the beans brown on top. Serves twelve. METHOD OF WORK Have the beans washed and put to soak the night before the lesson is to be given. Assign to one of the pupils the task of putting them on to simmer early the next morning. Call the class together for a few moments when the beans are ready to bake. Assign one of the pupils to attend to the fire and the oven. Let the beans bake all day. If the lesson is to be given late in the afternoon, the beans may be ready to serve, or the cooking may be continued on the second day and the lesson completed then. It would be well to serve the dish at the lunch period. Have the biscuits prepared to serve with the baked beans. LESSON XVII: BUTTER CAKES--PLAIN YELLOW CAKE--COCOA--COFFEE--TEA SUBJECT-MATTER _Cakes._--Cakes made with fat resemble other batters, except that the fat, sugar, and eggs are usually larger in amount and the texture of the baked batter is finer and more tender. When preparing cake, first get the pans ready. Grease them or line them with greased paper. Make sure that the oven is at the proper temperature. For a small cake, the oven should be hot enough to brown a piece of unglazed paper or a tablespoonful of flour in three minutes. Bake a small cake from twenty to thirty minutes. When done, the cake will shrink from the sides of the pan; the crust will spring back when touched with the finger; the loud ticking sound will cease; a fine knitting-needle will come out clean if the cake is pierced; and the crust will be nicely browned. When the cake is removed from the oven, let it stand in the pan for about three minutes, then loosen, and turn out gently. Do not handle while hot. Keep in a clean, ventilated tin box in a cool, dry place. _Cocoa._--Chocolate and cocoa are prepared from the bean of a tropical tree. This bean is rich in protein, fat, carbohydrate, mineral matter, and a stimulant called theobromine. In the preparation of chocolate the seeds are cleaned, milled, and crushed into a paste. In the preparation of cocoa much of the fat is removed, and the cocoa is packed for market in the form of a fine powder. Cocoa is more easily digested than chocolate, because it contains less fat. Though the amount of cocoa used in a cup of this beverage is not large, when prepared with milk it serves as a nutritious food. It is slightly stimulating as well, because of the theobromine present and because it is served hot. _Coffee and Tea._--Coffee and tea have no food value when prepared as beverages. They contain stimulating properties that are harmful to the body if taken in large quantities and, on this account, they should be used with discretion. They should never be given to children or to those troubled with indigestion. If carelessly prepared, both coffee and tea may be decidedly harmful to the body. Coffee should not be boiled for more than eight minutes. Tea should never be permitted to boil. Fresh, boiling water should be poured on the leaves and left for three minutes. It should then be strained off and kept hot until used. PRELIMINARY PLAN It may be wise to give this lesson on some special occasion, as it is well adapted to serve for the refreshments for a mother's club or a little class party. RECIPES _Plain Yellow Cake_ 1/2 c. butter 1 c. sugar 2 eggs 1/2 c. milk 2 tsp. baking-powder 1-1/2 c. flour 1 tsp. spice or 1-1/2 tsp. flavouring Cream the butter, add the sugar gradually, and mix well. Add the well-beaten yolks of eggs, then the flour and baking-powder alternately with the milk. Then add the flavouring and cut and fold in the whites of the eggs carefully. Turn into buttered pans and bake at once in a moderately hot oven. For chocolate cake, 2 ounces of melted chocolate may be added after the yolks of the eggs. Serves sixteen to twenty. _Gingerbread_ 1/4 c. butter 1/2 c. brown sugar 1 egg 1/2 c. molasses 1/2 c. milk (sour if possible) 1/2 tsp. soda 1-3/4 c. flour 1 tsp. ginger 1/2 tsp. cinnamon Salt Cream the butter, add the sugar gradually, then a well-beaten egg. Add the molasses. Sift all the dry ingredients together and add alternately with the milk. Bake in a buttered tin or in gem pans in a moderate oven for 25 or 35 minutes. Serves eight to ten. _Cocoa_ 1/4 c. cocoa 1/4 c. sugar 1 c. water 3 c. milk Mix the cocoa and sugar with the water and boil from 3 to 5 minutes. Stir into the hot milk and serve at once. If a scum forms, beat with a Dover egg-beater. Serves eight to ten. _Tea_ 1 tsp. green or 2 tsp. black tea 2 c. boiling water (freshly boiling) Scald the tea-pot, put the tea in the tea-pot, and pour boiling water over it; steep 3 minutes, strain, and serve. Serves four. _Coffee_ Take two tablespoonfuls of ground coffee for each cup of boiling water that is to be used. Put the coffee in the coffee-pot and add enough cold water to moisten the coffee and make it stick together--about one teaspoonful of water to each tablespoonful of coffee. Pour the boiling water over the coffee and boil it for 3 minutes. Place it where it will keep hot, but not boil, for 5 minutes or more, and then serve. If a small amount of egg white and shell is mixed with the coffee grounds and cold water, it will aid in clarifying and settling the coffee. _Note._--The recipes for coffee and tea are given, so that the teacher can discuss their preparation with the pupils and compare their value with that of cocoa. If coffee and tea are both commonly used in the homes, it may be well to have the pupils prepare both in the class, to be sure that they understand how to make them properly. METHOD OF WORK Begin the lesson period with a discussion of the methods of preparing cakes, and put the cake in the oven as soon as possible. While it is baking, prepare the cocoa. If the cocoa is not to be served for some time, it can be kept hot or re-heated over hot water. LESSON XVIII: YEAST BREAD SUBJECT-MATTER Yeast bread is made light by the presence of a gas produced by the action of yeast in the sponge or dough. Yeast is a microscopic plant which grows in a moist, warm temperature and feeds on starchy materials such as are present in wheat. A portion of the starch is converted into sugar (thus developing new and pleasant flavours), and some is still further changed, giving off the gas upon which the lightness of the bread depends. If the yeast is allowed to work for too long a time or the temperature is very hot, a souring of the dough may result. This souring can be prevented by kneading the dough thoroughly, as soon as it has risen well or doubled in bulk, or by putting it in a very hot oven to bake, when it has reached this stage. The yeast plant thrives in a heat of about the same temperature as our bodies. A little extra heat will only make it more active, but boiling temperature will kill it. Cold makes yeast inactive, though it does not kill the plants. Yeast develops in a natural state on hops and other plants. It is prepared for market in the form of dry or moist cakes. The latter must be kept very cold. For home use, a liquid yeast is often prepared from the dry cakes. This has the advantage of being more active. When the yeast has been added to a batter, it is spoken of as a sponge. When the batter has had enough flour added, so that it may be handled, it is called a dough. If the bread is to be made in a few hours, the yeast is made up at once into a dough. If it is to stand overnight, a sponge is often made first. More yeast is required for quick rising. In ordinary circumstances, one yeast cake is sufficient for one quart of liquid. Thorough kneading and baking are both essential to the success of the bread. PRELIMINARY PLAN Arrange to have the class meet the afternoon before, in order to begin the process by making the sponge, and to come early in the morning to care for the dough. Begin the study of flour, yeast, and bread in a previous class period, correlating the work with geography, nature study, or some other subject. Either white or whole-wheat flour may be used for the breads. RECIPES _Bread_ (Prepared with dry yeast) 1 dry yeast cake 1 c. warm water 1 c. flour 1 qt. water or milk (scalded) Flour enough to make a soft dough 2 tsp. salt 2 tbsp. sugar 2 tbsp. lard or butter At noon put a dry yeast cake to soak in a cup of warm water. When it is soft, add a cup of flour, cover, and put in a warm place to grow light. This will require several hours. In the evening, when ready to begin the dough, mix the salt, sugar, fat, and hot liquid in a large bowl; when lukewarm, add the cup of light yeast and enough flour to knead (about three quarts). Mix thoroughly and knead it into a smooth dough, and continue this process until it is soft and elastic. Return the dough to the bowl, moisten, cover, and set in a moderately warm place for the night. Be sure that the place is free from draughts. In the morning knead slightly; divide into loaves or shape in rolls; put into pans for baking; cover, and let it rise until double in bulk. Bake large loaves from 50 to 60 minutes. Rolls will bake in from 25 to 35 minutes, for they require a hotter oven. It is of the utmost importance that all yeast breads be thoroughly cooked. (Makes 4 loaves.) (Time required for making bread with dry yeast, from 16 to 20 hours.) _Bread_ (Prepared with compressed yeast) 2 c. milk or water (scalded) 2 tsp. salt 2 tsp. sugar 1 tbsp. lard or butter 1/4 cake compressed yeast (1 cake if set in morning) 1/4 c. water (lukewarm) Flour, white or whole wheat Put the hot water or milk, salt, sugar, and fat in a bowl; when lukewarm, and the yeast softened in the lukewarm water, then the flour gradually and, when stiff enough to handle, turn the dough out on a floured board and knead until soft and elastic (20 minutes). Return the dough to the bowl, moisten, cover, and let it rise in a warm place until double in bulk; then knead slightly, divide into loaves or shape into rolls, cover, and let rise in the pan in which they are to be baked until double in bulk, and bake from 50 to 60 minutes. (Makes 2 loaves.) (Time required for making bread, if one cake of compressed yeast is used, 6 hours.) METHOD OF WORK If the class is large, prepare two or three bowls of sponge, so that all can have some practice in stirring and kneading. Do not make too large a quantity of bread to bake in the oven, unless arrangements can be made to do some of the baking at the home of one of the pupils. Use the bread for the school lunch or divide it among the class to take home. Plan a bread contest, so that each pupil will be interested in making bread at home. LESSON XIX: SERVING A SIMPLE DINNER WITHOUT MEAT--BAKED OMELET--MACARONI AND CHEESE PRELIMINARY PLAN AND METHOD OF WORK At some previous time the teacher should discuss with the pupils the plans for the dinner. It may be well to let them invite the members of the school board or others interested in their work to partake of the dinner. They should decide on the menu, with the help and suggestions of the teacher, and should choose foods that they can bring from their homes. The main course should consist of such a vegetable dish as baked beans, an omelet, or macaroni with white sauce and grated cheese. To accompany this there should be potatoes and a fresh green vegetable, such as spinach or cabbage, and a hot bread. A simple dessert which the pupils know how to make should be chosen. One duty should be assigned to each pupil, and she should be entirely responsible for that portion of the dinner. The teacher should supervise all the work carefully. Instructions for making the menu cards may be given in a drawing lesson. RECIPES _Baked Omelet_ 2 tbsp. butter 2 tbsp. flour 1/2 tsp. salt 1 c. milk, heated 4 eggs 2 tsp. fat Pepper Melt the butter, add the flour and seasonings, mix thoroughly, then add the hot milk slowly. Separate the eggs, beat the yolks, and add the white sauce to them. Beat the whites until stiff and cut and fold them carefully into the yolk mixture, so that the lightness is all retained. Turn into a greased baking-dish and bake in a moderate oven from 20 to 30 minutes. Serve hot. Serves six. _Macaroni and Cheese_ 1 c. macaroni, noodles, or rice 2 tbsp. fat 3 tbsp. flour 1/2 tsp. salt Pepper 1-1/2 c. milk 1 c. grated cheese 2 c. buttered bread crumbs (two tbsp. butter or other fat) Break the macaroni into 1-inch pieces and cook it in a large amount of salted boiling water from 30 to 45 minutes. Drain it well when tender and pour cold water through it. Break up the bread crumbs and add two tablespoonfuls of melted butter to them. Grate the cheese and make a white sauce of the fat, flour, seasonings, and milk. Mix the cheese with the sauce, add the macaroni, and pour it into a buttered baking-dish. Cover with the bread crumbs and bake 15 or 20 minutes, to brown the crumbs. Serves eight. LESSON XX: SUGAR _Food value and cooking. The use of peanuts in candy. Peanut cookies, or peanut, molasses, or fudge candies, to be made for a special entertainment._ SUBJECT-MATTER Sugar is valuable to the body as a source of heat and energy. While it is easy of digestion, it is very irritating to the body if taken in large quantities and, on this account, it should be taken in small quantities and preferably at meal time or with other food. Two or three pieces of candy taken at the end of the meal will not be hurtful, but when eaten habitually between meals, it is sure to produce harmful effects. Sugar is present in many fruits and in most vegetables. Milk contains a large percentage of sugar. In preparing foods to which the addition of sugar seems desirable, care should be taken not to add it in large quantities. PRELIMINARY PLAN As it is desirable to have a discussion regarding sugar and its value to the body, the preparation of cookies or candy for some school function or Christmas party may be undertaken in conjunction with this lesson, which should be given at a time when it will mean most to the pupils. The work should be so planned that they will learn something of the principles of sugar cookery, as well as the specific recipes they are using. RECIPES _Cookies_ 1 c. fat 1 c. sugar 2 eggs 1/4 c. milk 3 c. flour 3 tsp. baking-powder 1 tbsp. cinnamon 1/2 c. sugar Cream the butter and add the sugar and well-beaten eggs. Then add the milk alternately with the sifted dry flour (sifted with baking-powder). Mix to the consistency of a soft dough, adding more milk if necessary. Roll lightly, cut in shapes, and dip in the one-half cup of sugar and cinnamon that have been sifted together. Place on buttered sheets and bake in a hot oven for about 10 minutes. Slip from the pan and lay on the cake cooler. To make a softer cookie, use only one-half cup of butter. (Three to four dozen.) _Peanut Cookies_ 2 tbsp. butter 1/4 c. sugar 1 egg 1 tsp. baking-powder 1/8 tsp. salt 1/2 c. flour 2 tsp. milk 1/2 c. finely chopped peanuts 1/2 tsp. lemon juice 2 doz. whole peanuts shelled Cream the butter and add the sugar and the egg well beaten. Add the milk and sifted dry ingredients, alternately, to the first mixture, then the peanuts and lemon juice. Drop from a teaspoon on a baking sheet an inch apart and place 1/2 peanut on top of each. Bake from 12 to 15 minutes in a moderate oven. (Two and a half to three dozen.) _Peanut Brittle_ 1 c. sugar 1 c. peanuts in the shell Stir the sugar over the heat, constantly, until it becomes a clear liquid. Take at once from the heat, add the prepared peanuts, and pour on a warm, buttered tin. Mark in squares and cool. Serves ten. _Molasses Candy_ 2 c. molasses 2/3 c. sugar 1 tbsp. vinegar 1/4 tsp. soda 2 tbsp. butter Put the molasses, sugar, and butter into a thick sauce-pan or kettle and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Boil until the mixture becomes brittle when tried in cold water. Stir constantly at the last to prevent burning. Add vinegar and soda just before removing from the fire. Pour into a well-greased pan and let it stand until cool enough to handle. Then pull until light and porous and cut in small pieces with scissors, arranging on buttered plates. Serves sixteen to twenty. _Fudge_ 2 c. sugar 1 c. milk 1 tbsp. butter 1/2 c. nuts, broken up Put the sugar and the milk in a sauce-pan and stir over the heat until the sugar is dissolved. Add the butter and boil to the "soft ball" stage. Take from the heat and beat until creamy. Add the nuts and pour on buttered pans. When cool, cut in squares. Serves sixteen to eighteen. METHOD OF WORK Devote, if possible, a separate period to the discussion of the food value and cooking of sugar; then assign two recipes for the practical work, allowing the pupils to work in groups. Assign only as much work as can be carefully supervised. Do not undertake both the cookies and the candy. TWENTY LESSONS IN SEWING SUGGESTIONS TO THE TEACHER The teacher should be familiar with the conditions in which the pupils live, should know how much money they can afford to pay for materials, what materials are available, what previous experience in hand work they have had, whether they can afford to have sewing-machines in their own homes, and to what extent they make their own clothes or buy them ready-made. The lessons should be planned to furnish hand training, to give pupils practical instruction in the care of their own clothes, and to provide an opportunity for preparing the apron for the cooking lessons. The lesson course should tend to develop habits of thrift, industry, and neatness. The pupils should be encouraged to learn to sew, both to improve their own home conditions and to give them suggestions as to a possible means of livelihood. If sewing-machines are available and are in use in the homes, it is well to have lessons given in machine sewing and to have the long seams run by machine. If the pupils cannot have sewing-machines in their own homes, the lessons given should be limited to sewing by hand. In some schools, it may be necessary to simplify the lessons; in others, an increased number of articles may be prepared in the time allotted. Should the apron and cap not be needed for the cooking class, an undergarment (corset cover) may well be substituted.[A] [A] Should the teacher feel that an apron or corset-cover is too large a piece for her pupils to undertake, and should she desire to have more time spent on the first ten lessons. Lessons XI to XVIII may be omitted, two periods each devoted to both Lessons XIX and XX, and three lessons used for the making of a simple needle-book or other small piece. For each lesson the teacher should have in mind a definite plan of procedure. The lesson should be opened with a brief and concrete class discussion of the new work that is to be taken up or the special stage that has been reached in work that is already under way. Though individual instruction is necessary, it should not take the place of this general presentation of the subject-matter, which economizes time and develops the real thought content of the work. Whenever possible, the teacher should endeavour to correlate this work with the other subjects on the curriculum. New stitches may be demonstrated on large pieces of scrim, with long darning-needles and coarse red or black yarn. The scrim should be pinned to the black-board with thumb tacks, and the stitches made large enough for all to see without difficulty. A variety of completed articles should be kept on hand, in order to show additional application of points brought out in the lesson. Each class may be given the privilege of preparing one article to add to this collection, and a spirit of class pride and valuable team work may be thereby developed. During the lesson, posture, neatness, and order should be emphasized. Application can be secured by making the problems of interest. Care must be taken that none of the work demands unnecessary eye strain. Each lesson should be closed in time to have one of the members of the class give a brief summary of the steps that have been covered. Since the class period for sewing in the rural school will necessarily be brief, the pupils should be encouraged to continue their work at some other period. However, no work outside of the class period should be permitted until the pupil has mastered the stitch and can be trusted to do the work in the right way. The privilege of sewing may be made the reward for lessons quickly learned, home practice may be assigned, or the class may meet out of school hours. All outside practice must be carefully supervised, the pupil bringing her work to the teacher for frequent inspection. If it is possible to keep on hand a permanent equipment for sewing, the following should be provided for a class of twelve: Approximate cost Scissors, 1 dozen $3.00 Thimbles, 1 dozen .50 Tape-measures, 1 dozen .60 Emery, 1 dozen .50 Boxes for work, 1 dozen 1.00 ------ $5.60 _Note._--Shoe or candy boxes may be used, but an effort should be made to have them uniform. The teacher who is to give lessons in sewing should secure a helpful elementary text-book or some bulletin that deals with the teaching of sewing. REFERENCE BOOKS. _School Sewing, Based on Home Problems._ Burton, I. R. and M. G. Vocational Supply Co., Indianapolis $1.00 _Handbook of Elementary Sewing._ Flagg, E. P. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. (McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, Toronto) .50 _Constructive Sewing, Book I._ (paper) Industrial Book & Equipment Co., Indianapolis .60 _School Needlework._ Hapgood, O. C. Ginn & Co., Boston .50 _Clothing and Health._ Kinne, H., and Cooley, A. M. Macmillan's, Toronto .65 _Handicraft for Girls._ McGlauflin, I. Manual Arts Press, Peoria. Ill. 1.00 _Home and School Sewing._ Patton, F. Newson & Co., New York .60 _A Sewing Course._ Woolman, M. S. Frederick A. Fernald, Washington 1.50 _Sewing._ Department of Education of Ontario .20 LESSON I: PREPARATION FOR SEWING _Preparation and use of working equipment: Needles, pins, thread, tape-measure, thimble, scissors, box for work. Talk on cleanliness and neatness (care of hands, etc.). Discussion of hemming. Hems folded on sheets of paper._ SUBJECT-MATTER A hem is made by twice turning over the edge of a piece of cloth toward the worker, and then sewing it down. It is used to finish a narrow edge. In turning a narrow hem the first fold must not be so deep as the second, in order that the hem may lie smoothly. If the hem is a wide one, the first fold can be much narrower than the second. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should have interested the pupils in the sewing lessons before the first meeting of the class, and each pupil should be asked to bring with her the box in which to keep her materials and such other equipment as is required. If the school is to furnish the equipment, the teacher should be sure that there is an adequate supply on hand. It will probably be necessary to have the towels to be used in the cooking classes hemmed, and the pupils should be interested in doing this work. If some of them wish to hem towels for use in their own homes, it may be desirable to allow them to do so. Flour or meal sacks will answer. It may be well to have each pupil hem a towel for home use, as well as for school use, in order to impress upon her the desirability of having hemmed dish-towels for daily use. The towels may be planned during this lesson, and the pupils may arrange to bring the material from home, if they are to provide it; but it will be well for the teacher to have on hand material for one or two towels. Plain paper will answer for the practice folding of the hem in the first lesson. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should devote a few minutes to a talk on cleanliness, emphasizing its importance, and the necessity for exercising care in handling the sewing materials. This should be followed by a discussion regarding the care of the hands and the condition in which they should be for the sewing lesson. Each pupil should inspect her own hands and show them to the teacher. [Illustration: _Fig._ 2.--Gauge] When all the pupils have their hands in a proper condition for sewing, the teacher should look over their supplies with them, give them suggestions as to how they are to keep these, and let them arrange their boxes. Next, she should tell them what their first work is to be, show them the material for the towels, and discuss with them the best method of finishing the ends. (See Lesson II.) Before turning the hem, the pupils should make a gauge from heavy paper, notched to indicate the depth of the hem. A few minutes should be devoted to practice in measuring and turning a hem of the desired depth on a sheet of paper. This should give practice in the double turning necessary--first, the narrow turn to dispose of the cut edge; second, the fold to finish the edge. When the lesson is finished, the boxes should be put away in systematic order, and all scraps should be carefully picked up from the desks and the floor. LESSON II: HEMMING TOWELS _Turning and basting hems. Hemming towels of crash, sacking, or other material, for use in washing and drying dishes at home or in school._ [Illustration: _Fig._ 3.--Even basting] SUBJECT-MATTER Basting is used to hold two pieces of material together until a permanent stitch can be put in. It is done by taking long stitches (one-fourth inch) from right to left and parallel to the edges that are to be basted together. In starting, the thread is fastened with a knot; when completed, it is fastened by taking two or three stitches one over the other. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should have the necessary materials on hand or should see that they are supplied by the pupils. The articles needed will include material for the towels, white thread for basting and hemming, and gauges for measuring. The teacher should also have a large square of unbleached cotton or canvas, 18 by 18 inches, and a large darning-needle and coloured worsted thread, to use for demonstration purposes. The canvas should be fastened to the black-board, where the class can see it easily. METHOD OF WORK As soon as the class is called, the supplies are at hand, and the hands are in a proper condition, the teacher should demonstrate the basting-stitch, with a large needle and thread, on the square of canvas that has been fastened on the wall. Materials for work should be passed. Each pupil should straighten the ends of her towel by drawing a thread. Then she should turn and baste a hem three eighths of an inch in depth. At the close of the lesson, the pupils should fold their work carefully and put it neatly in their boxes. LESSON III: HEMMING TOWELS--Continued _The overhanding stitch and the hemming stitch._ SUBJECT-MATTER _Overhanding_ (also called overseaming or top sewing).--The edges to be overhanded are held between the first finger and the thumb of the left hand, with the edge parallel to the first finger. The needle is inserted just below and perpendicular to the edge. The needle is pointed straight toward the worker. The stitches proceed from right to left, each stitch being taken a little to the left of the preceding stitch. The stitches should all be straight on the right side, but they will slant a little on the wrong side. They should not be deep. It may be desirable to use this overhanding stitch at the ends of hems, to hold the edges of the material together. The overhanding stitch is also used for seams, for patching, and for sewing on lace. [Illustration: _Fig._ 4.--Overhanding] The overhanding of narrow hems is not always necessary, but the ends may be made stronger thereby, and the stitch is a valuable one for the pupils to know. [Illustration: _Fig._ 5.--Hemming] _Hemming._--The hemming-stitch is placed on the inside of the hem. The end of the basted hem is laid over the first and under the second finger of the left hand, with the folded edge outside and the material toward the worker. It is held in place with the thumb. The stitch is begun at the end of the hem. The fastening of the thread is concealed by slipping it underneath the hem in the inside fold of the material. The needle is pointed over the left shoulder, a small stitch is taken by inserting the needle through the material just below the hem, then through the folded edge. This is repeated, making the next stitch nearer the worker and moving the goods away from the worker as necessary. Uniformity of slant, size, and spacing of the stitches is important. PRELIMINARY PLAN Before this lesson is given, all the pupils should report to the teacher, having both ends of their towels basted, so that they will all be ready to proceed at once with the new stitches. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should begin by demonstrating on the large square of canvas with the large needle and heavy thread the stitches to be used. After overhanding the end of the hem, the hemming-stitch should follow with the same thread. The pupils will probably not be able to finish the hemming in this first lesson, so provision should be made for additional time. This can be required as an outside assignment, if the pupils have mastered the method during the class period. The teacher may also be able to give them some supervision while she is looking after other classes. LESSON IV: BAGS _A school bag. Bag (made of material obtainable) to hold sewing materials. Measuring and straightening the material for the bag. Basting the seams._ SUBJECT-MATTER The basting-stitch will be used as a review of work in the second lesson. PRELIMINARY PLAN Some time before the lesson, the teacher should discuss with the pupils the kind of material they will be able to provide for their bags and, if the material has to be purchased, she should suggest something that is suitable, washable, and inexpensive. The bag should cost only a few cents. The dimensions of the finished bag should be about 12 by 18 inches. METHOD OF WORK The pupils should get out the materials they have brought and determine upon the size and shape of their bags. It will not be necessary to make them uniform. The teacher should help the pupils to use their material to the best advantage. It should be straightened, pulled in place, and measured carefully. When the bags have been cut out, the sides should be basted. LESSON V: BAGS--Continued _Sewing up the seams with a running-stitch and a back-stitch._ SUBJECT-MATTER Running is done by passing the needle in and out of the material at regular intervals. Small, even stitches and spaces should follow consecutively on both sides of the material. The stitches should be much shorter than those used for basting, the length being determined largely by the kind of cloth used. When running is combined with a back-stitch, two or more running-stitches and one back-stitch are taken alternately. The back-stitch is a stitch taken backward on the upper side of the cloth, the needle being put back each time into the end of the last stitch and brought out the same distance beyond the last stitch. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should be sure that all the pupils are ready to report, having the sides of their bags basted ready for stitching. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should first demonstrate the running-stitch with the back-stitch, and the pupils should begin to sew the sides of the bag, using this stitch. They should commence sewing three quarters of an inch from the top of the bag, so that there will be a space left for slits in the hem through which to run the cord.[A] The seams will doubtless have to be finished outside of the class hour, and may be assigned for completion before the next lesson. [Illustration: _Fig._ 6.--Running-stitch with a back-stitch] [A] The draw-string, or cord, is to be run through the hem from the inside of the bag, and it will be necessary to leave three quarters of an inch of space at the ends of the seams, to provide slits as outlets for the cord. LESSON VI: BAGS--Continued _Overcasting the seams and turning the hem at the top of the bag._ SUBJECT-MATTER Overcasting is done by taking loose stitches over the raw edge of the cloth, to keep it from ravelling or fraying. PRELIMINARY PLAN The teacher should be sure that all the pupils are ready to report, having the sides of their bags neatly sewed with the running-stitch. [Illustration: _Fig._ 7.--Overcasting] METHOD OF WORK The teacher should demonstrate the method of overcasting and explain its use. She should have the pupils trim the edges of their seams neatly and overcast them carefully. After the seams have been overcast, she should discuss the depth of the hem that the pupils expect to use and the method of turning and basting it. They should then measure, turn, pin, and baste the hems, using the gauge for determining the depth of the hem. If the bags are deep enough to admit of a heading at the top, a deep hem (about 2-1/2 inches) can be made, and a running-stitch put in one-half inch (or more) above the edge of the hem, to provide a casing, or space, for the cord. If it is necessary to take a narrow hem, the hem itself can be made to answer as space for the cord; in this case the hem should be made about one-half inch deep. LESSON VII: BAGS--Continued _Hemming the top of the bag and putting in a running-stitch to provide a space for the cord._ SUBJECT-MATTER Review of the hemming-stitch and the running-stitch. PRELIMINARY PLAN The pupils, having the hems basted, should report to the teacher. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should review briefly the method of making the hemming-stitch and the running-stitch, asking the pupils to describe these stitches and to demonstrate them on the large square of canvas before the class. The basted hems should then be sewed with the hemming-stitch. After the hem is finished, the pupils should run a basting thread around the bag, to mark the location of the running-stitch, which is to be half an inch above the hem. They should measure for this carefully. If there is not time to do all the hemming in the class period, the hemming-stitch and the running-stitch (which is to provide space for the draw-string) should be assigned for outside work, and each pupil should bring in her finished hem at a designated time before the next class period. LESSON VIII: BAGS--Continued _Preparing a cord or other draw-string for the bag. Putting a double draw-string in the bag, so that it can easily be drawn up. Use of the bodkin._ [Illustration: _Fig._ 8.--Bag nearly completed] SUBJECT-MATTER To make a cord, it is necessary to take more than four times as much cotton as the final length of the cord will require, for some of the length will be taken up in the twisting of the cord. It will be easier for two to work together in making a cord. The cord should be doubled, the two lengths twisted together firmly, and the ends brought together again and held in one hand, while the middle is taken in the other hand, and the lengths are allowed to twist firmly together. The ends should be tied, and the cord run into the bag with a bodkin or tape-needle. If one cord is run in from one side and another is run in from the other side, each cord running all the way around, the bag can be drawn up easily. [Illustration: _Fig._ 9.--Bodkin] In place of the cord, narrow tape may be used. Take two pieces of tape, each piece being twice as long as the width of the bag plus two inches. Run one tape in from one side and a second from the other side, each tape running all the way around. Join the tape ends in the following manner: 1. Turn a narrow fold on one end of the tape to the _wrong_ side, and on the other end of the tape to the _right_ side. 2. Slip one fold under the other and hem down the folded edges. PRELIMINARY PLAN If the pupils are not able to supply cords for their own bags, the teacher should have a sufficient supply of cord on hand. She should be sure the bags are in readiness for the cord before the class period. [Illustration: _Fig._ 10.--- Completed bag] METHOD OF WORK The teacher should begin the lesson by describing the method of making the cord, estimating the amount necessary, and demonstrating the process with the assistance of one of the pupils. The pupils should be numbered, so that they may work in groups of two. After they have completed the cord and run it into the bag, methods of finishing the ends neatly should be suggested to them. LESSON IX: DARNING STOCKINGS _Use of a darning-ball or gourd as a substitute for a ball. Talk on the care of the feet and the care of the stockings._ [Illustration: _Fig._ 11.--Darning] SUBJECT-MATTER This lesson will involve running and weaving. Darning is used to fill in a hole with thread, so as to supply the part that has been destroyed or to strengthen a place which shows signs of weakness. A darning-ball, a gourd, or a firm piece of cardboard should be placed under the hole. The darn should extend one quarter of an inch beyond the edge of the material, beginning with fine stitches in the material, making rows running close together in one direction, then crossing these threads with rows that run at a right angle to them. Care should be taken alternately to pick up and drop the edge of the material around the hole, so that no raw edges will be visible, and to weave evenly in and out of the material and the cross threads. PRELIMINARY PLAN Each pupil should provide a pair of stockings with a few small holes and a gourd or ball of some sort that she can use as a darning ball. METHOD OF WORK When the class meets, the teacher should discuss briefly the care of the feet and of the stockings, and demonstrate the method of darning, on a large piece of coarse material, with heavy yarn and a needle. If the pupils finish one darn during the lesson period, more darning should be assigned for practice out of class. LESSON X: PATCHING[A] _Hemmed patches on cotton garments. Talk on the care of the clothes._ SUBJECT-MATTER This lesson will involve measuring, trimming, basting, and hemming. A patch is a piece of cloth sewed on to a garment to restore the worn part. The material used for the patch should be as nearly like the original fabric in colour and quality as possible. In placing the patch, the condition of the material about the hole must be taken into consideration, as well as the size of the hole. The worn parts around the hole should be removed, and the hole cut square or oblong. The patch should be, on all four sides, an inch larger than the trimmed hole. The corners of the hole should be cut back diagonally, so that the edges may be turned under. The patch should be matched and pinned to the wrong side of the garment, leaving the edges to project evenly on all four sides. The edges of the material around the hole should be turned in and basted to the patch. The edges of the patch should be turned in so that they extend, when finished, one-half inch from the edge of the hole. The patch and the cloth should be basted together and hemmed. [A] Used when special problem comes up. [Illustration: _Fig._ 12.--Patching] PRELIMINARY PLAN The lesson on patching should be given at any time in the course when it can be applied to an immediate need. If a pupil tears her dress while playing at school, or if she wears a torn apron, the teacher can announce a patching lesson for the next sewing class, and request each pupil to bring a torn garment and the material for the patch from home. It may be desirable to use two or three periods for this lesson. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should demonstrate the process of patching on a large piece of cotton. The pupils should practise placing a patch on a piece of paper with a hole in it. Each step should be assigned in succession--examination of the article to determine its condition, calculation of the size and preparation of the patch, placing the patch, trimming the article around the hole, basting the patch and material together, and hemming the patch. LESSON XI: CUTTING OUT APRONS OR UNDERGARMENTS SUBJECT-MATTER When cutting out an apron, the length of the skirt should first be measured, and to this measure 6 inches should be added for the hem and the seams. One length of the material corresponding to this length should be cut. This should be folded lengthwise through the middle. Three quarters of an inch should be measured on this fold, and the material cut from the end of the selvage to this point, in order to slope the front of the apron. When the waist measure is taken, 3 inches should be added to it (1 for the lap and 1 at each end, for finishing). This makes a strong piece at each end for the button and button-hole. Two pieces of this length and 2-1/2 inches wide should be cut lengthwise of the material for the belt. A measure should be made from the middle of the back of the waist line, over the shoulder, to a point 5 inches to the right to the centre front and on the waist line. Two pieces of the length of this measure and 4-1/2 inches wide should be cut lengthwise of the material for the shoulder straps. A piece 9 by 12 inches should be cut for the bib, the longer distance lengthwise of the material. These measurements allow one quarter of an inch for seams. PRELIMINARY PLAN Before the lesson the teacher should see if arrangements can be made to secure the use of one or two sewing-machines, so that the pupils may sew all the long seams by machine. At a previous lesson she should discuss the kinds of material suitable for the aprons. The pupils should consider whether their aprons shall be white or coloured, and whether they shall be of muslin, cambric, or gingham. Each pupil will need from 1-1/2 to 2 yards of material, according to her size. The taller ones will need 2 yards. [Illustration: _Fig._ 13.--Cutting out skirt of apron] There should be on hand a sufficient number of tape-measures, pins, and scissors, so that the pupils may proceed with the cutting of their aprons without unnecessary delay. The apron to be made is to have a skirt, with a bib and shoulder straps, in order to be a protection to the dress, the skirt, and the waist.[A] [A] If the pupils are very inexperienced and find the sewing difficult, it may be advisable to omit the bib and straps and to make the simple full-skirted apron. If a machine is not at hand to use for the long seams, the limited time may make the simpler apron necessary. This will give more time for the various steps. Lessons XIV and XV may then be omitted, Lesson XVI made more simple, and less outside work may be required. METHOD OF WORK As soon as the class meets, the pupils should take the measurements for their aprons. One measurement should be assigned at a time, and the reason for each measurement should be given. The pupils should have explicit directions as to the measurements, as they are apt to become confused if the directions are not clear. They should work carefully, so that the material does not become crumpled or soiled and, at the conclusion of the lesson, they should fold it carefully and put it away neatly. All threads and scraps of material should be carefully picked off the floor and the desks, and the room left in order. LESSON XII: APRONS OR UNDERGARMENTS--Continued _Basting the hem for hemming on the machine or by hand. Uneven basting._ SUBJECT-MATTER An uneven basting forms the better guide for stitching. In uneven basting, the spaces are made about three times as long as the stitches. The stitch should be about one eighth of an inch and the space three eighths of an inch. PRELIMINARY PLAN In addition to the apron material which has been cut out in the previous lesson, each pupil should provide her own spool of thread (number sixty white thread will probably answer for all the work), a piece of cardboard 5 inches wide for a gauge, and pins to use in fastening the hem. [Illustration: _Fig._ 14.--Uneven basting] METHOD OF WORK As soon as the class meets, the pupils should prepare a 5-inch gauge, to guide them in turning the hems of the skirts of their aprons. They should make a half-inch notch in the measure for the first turn in the material. A half-inch edge should be turned up from the bottom of the skirt, then a 5-inch hem should be turned, pinned, and basted carefully with uneven basting. The gauge should be used for both measurements. LESSON XIII: APRONS OR UNDERGARMENTS--Continued _Gathering the skirt and stitching to the belt._ SUBJECT-MATTER In gathering, a stitch much like running is employed. Small stitches are taken up on the needle, with spaces twice as great between them. The top of the skirt should be divided into halves, and each half gathered with a long thread, fine stitches one quarter of an inch from the edge being used. The middle of the belt and the middle of the top of the skirt of the apron should be determined upon. The belt should be pinned to the wrong side of the apron at these points, and the fulness drawn up to fit (approximately one half of the waist measure). The skirt and the belt should be pinned, basted, and sewn together. [Illustration: _Fig._ 15.--Gathering] PRELIMINARY PLAN If the hems have been completed in the skirts, the pupils are ready to gather the skirts and attach them to the belt. It will be well to have a supply of pins on hand, to use in fastening the skirt and belt together. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should first demonstrate the method of gathering and assign that portion of the lesson. When the skirts have all been gathered, she should show the pupils how to measure, pin, and baste the skirt to the belt. [Illustration: _Fig._ 16.--Sewing on the belt of the apron] LESSON XIV: APRONS OR UNDERGARMENTS--Continued _Making the bib._ SUBJECT-MATTER A 2-inch hem should be turned across one short end of the bib. This should be basted and hemmed. The bottom of the bib should be gathered, the method employed for the top of the skirt being used, and sufficient thread being left to adjust the gathers easily. PRELIMINARY PLAN If the pupils have completed the skirts and attached them to the belts, they are ready to make the bibs. They should be provided with a 2-inch marker, for use in making the hems in the top of the bibs. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should guide the pupils carefully in the making of the bibs, reviewing their knowledge of basting, hemming, and gathering. [Illustration: _Fig._ 17.--Bib and straps of apron] LESSON XV: APRONS OR UNDERGARMENTS--Continued _Making the straps._ SUBJECT-MATTER One end of one of the straps should be placed at the bottom of the bib. The edge of the strap should be pinned, basted, and sewed to the right side of the bib with a running-stitch. The other long edge of the strap should then be turned in one quarter of an inch and the side turned in one inch. The strap should then be folded through the middle for its entire length and the free side basted to the wrong side of the bib and hemmed. The remaining edges of the strap should be overhanded together. The other strap should be sewn to the other side of the bib in the same way. PRELIMINARY PLAN The bibs should have been completed before the pupils report for this lesson. METHOD OF WORK As soon as the pupils report for the lesson, the teacher should explain the method of attaching the straps to the bib and tell them how to finish the former. As they proceed with their work, she should supervise them carefully and assign the unfinished portion to be done out of class. LESSON XVI: APRONS OR UNDERGARMENTS--Continued _Putting the bib and the skirt on the belt._ SUBJECT-MATTER The middle of the bottom of the bib should be determined, and pinned to the middle of the upper edge of the belt, to which the skirt has already been attached. The belt should be fastened to the wrong side of the bib. The gathering string of the bib should be drawn up, leaving 2 inches of fulness on each side of the middle. The bib should be pinned, basted, and sewn to the belt. The remaining long edges of the belt should be turned in one quarter of an inch, and the ends one inch. The edges of the other belt piece should be turned in in the same way, and should be pinned over the belt to which the skirt and the bib have been attached (with all the edges turned in), and basted carefully, to keep the edges even. The skirt and the bib should be hemmed to this upper belt, and all the remaining edges should be overhanded. PRELIMINARY PLAN The bib and the straps of the apron should be completed before the pupils report for this lesson. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should guide the pupils carefully in the various steps necessary in fastening the bib to the belt and in completing the belt. If the hemming and overhanding is not completed during the class hour, they may be assigned as home work. LESSON XVII: METHODS OF FASTENING GARMENTS _Sewing buttons on the aprons, corset-cover, or other garment._ SUBJECT-MATTER This lesson should teach neatness in dress, through a consideration of the best methods of fastening garments. The position of the button is measured by drawing the right end of the band one inch over the left end. The place for the button should be marked with a pin on the left end of the band. A double thread is fastened on the right side of the band, drawn through one hole of the button, and back through the other, and then taken through the band close to the first stitch. A pin should be inserted on top of the button under the first stitch, left there until the button is firmly fastened in place, and then removed. Before the thread is fastened, it should be wrapped two or three times around the threads holding the button, between the button and the cloth, then fastened neatly on the wrong side with a few small stitches one on top of another. [Illustration: _Fig._ 18.--Sewing on buttons] PRELIMINARY PLAN Each pupil should come to the class with her apron as nearly completed as possible, and with three buttons to sew on it, for fastening the belt and straps. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should discuss the best methods of fastening garments and should demonstrate the method of sewing on buttons. The pupils should sew one button on the left end of the apron band in the middle of the width about 1 inch from the end, and another button 4 inches from each end of the band, to hold the shoulder straps. LESSON XVIII: METHODS OF FASTENING GARMENTS--Continued _Button-holes on practice piece and on apron._ SUBJECT-MATTER Directions for making the button-hole.--Measure carefully the position for the button-hole, lengthwise of the band, so that the end will come one quarter of an inch from the edge of the garment. Mark the length of the button-hole on the material by putting in two lines of running-stitches at the ends. To cut the button-hole, insert the point of the scissors at the point marked by the running-stitches nearest the edge of the garment, and cut carefully along the thread of the material to the row of stitches marking the length at the other end. [Illustration: (_a_) Starting the button-hole (_b_) The button-hole stitch (_c_) The finished button-hole _Fig._ 19.--Working button-holes] To make the button-hole, use a thread of sufficient length to do both the overcasting and the button-holing. Beginning at the lower right corner, overcast the raw edges with stitches one sixteenth of an inch deep. Do not overcast around the ends of the hole. As soon as the overcasting is done, proceed with the button-holing without breaking the thread. Hold the button-hole horizontally over the first finger of the left hand and work from right to left. Insert the point of the needle through the button-hole (at the back end), bringing the point through, toward you, four or five threads below the edge of the button-hole. Bring the doubled thread from the eye of the needle from right to left under and around the point of the needle, draw the needle through, and pull the thread firmly, so that the purl is on the edge. At the end of the button-hole, near the end of the band, make a fan, by placing from five to seven stitches. The other end of the button-hole should be finished with a bar made by taking three stitches across the end of the button-hole, then button-hole over the bar, taking in the cloth underneath and pulling the purl toward the slit. The thread should be fastened carefully on the under side of the button-hole. PRELIMINARY PLAN For this lesson it is desirable to have small pieces of cotton on hand, to use as practice pieces for the button-holes. METHOD OF WORK The teacher should demonstrate the making of a button-hole, illustrating each step of the process on a large piece of canvas. The pupils should sew two small strips of cotton together and cut a button-hole one quarter of an inch from the edge, and lengthwise of the material, to work for practice. When the button-hole has been sufficiently perfected on the practice piece, the pupils should make three in the apron--one in the right end of the band and one in the end of each shoulder strap. LESSON XIX: A PADDED HOLDER FOR HANDLING HOT DISHES--BINDING SUBJECT-MATTER A holder 6 inches square will be satisfactory for handling hot dishes. It can be made of quilted padding bound with tape, or of two thicknesses of outing flannel covered with percale or denim and bound with tape or braid. If made of the outing flannel and covered, it should be quilted, by stitching from the middle of one side to the middle of the opposite side in both directions, in order to hold the outing flannel and the outside covering together. The tape that is to be used for the binding should be folded through the middle lengthwise; then, a beginning being made at one corner of the padding, the edge should be basted, half on one side and half on the other. Right-angled corners should be formed. When basted all around, the tape should be sewn on each side with a hemming-stitch. If the holder is to be suspended from the apron band, a tape of from 27 inches to 36 inches in length should be attached to one corner. The raw edge at one end of the tape should be turned in. The end should be so placed that it overlaps the corner of the holder about half an inch and it should be basted to the holder. The tape should then be secured firmly to the holder, hemmed down on one edge, across the bottom, and up the other edge. The other end of the tape should be finished with a 2-inch loop. The raw edge should be folded over, the tape turned 2 inches down for the loop, and basted in place. This should be hemmed across the end. One quarter of an inch up from the end, the double thickness of tape should be back-stitched together, and the edges of the tape should be overhanded from there to the hemmed end. PRELIMINARY PLAN Each pupil should provide sufficient denim, percale, huckaback, or other washable material to cover the two sides of a holder 7 inches square, and enough outing or canton flannel for a double lining. About 1-1/2 yards of straight tape one-half inch wide will be needed for the binding and for suspending the holder from the apron. [Illustration: _Fig._ 20.--The holder] METHOD OF WORK The pupils should first carefully measure and turn the material for the covering of the holder and then prepare the lining, basting it all together. They should then put in the running-stitch and finish with the binding. If it is not possible to complete the holder in one period, a second lesson period should be provided, or arrangements may be made to have supervised work done outside of the lesson hours. [Illustration: _Fig._ 21.--Cap] LESSON XX: A CAP TO WEAR WITH THE COOKING APRON SUBJECT-MATTER The simplest cap to make will be the circular one. A pattern should be made by drawing with a pencil and string on a piece of wrapping-paper a circle 21 inches in diameter. The material for the cap should be cut carefully around the circle and finished with a narrow hem. A tape to hold the draw-string should be placed 1-1/4 inches inside the edge of the hem. A small piece of cardboard cut about one-half inch wide should be used for measuring the position of the tape. Bias strips three quarters of an inch wide should be prepared for the tape, or a commercial tape three eighths of an inch wide may be purchased. The outer edge of the tape should be basted first and the edges joined; then the inner edges should be basted, the edge being kept smooth. Both edges should be neatly sewn with the hemming-stitch by hand or on the machine. An elastic should be inserted in the band, carefully fitted to the head, and the ends fastened neatly. PRELIMINARY PLAN This lesson will give a good opportunity to make a cap that will answer for a dust cap or serve as a part of the cooking uniform. If such a cap does not seem desirable and the former lesson has not been completed, the cap may be omitted and the work on the holder continued. METHOD OF WORK The pupils should first make the pattern for the cap and then cut out their material. The hem should be basted and stitched with the hemming-stitch. The bias strip should be basted on and sewn with a running-stitch. It will probably not be possible for the pupils to complete the cap in one class period; but, if the material has been cut out and the work started, they may be able to complete it at some other time. The stitches are not new, and the work will serve as an excellent test of the skill they have acquired in the course. HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE EQUIPMENT The introduction of Household Science into rural schools has been hindered by the prevalent impression that the subject requires equipment similar to that in the Household Science centres of towns and cities, where provision is made for the instruction of twenty-four pupils at one time and for from ten to fifteen different classes each week. Owing to the expense and the lack of accommodation, it is not possible to install such equipment in rural schools. For this and other reasons it has been concluded that the subject is beyond the possibilities of the rural school. That this is not the case is shown by the fact that many rural schools in the United States, and some in Saskatchewan, as well as a number in our own Province, are teaching the subject successfully, with equipment specially designed to meet existing conditions. The accommodations and equipment required may be classified as follows: 1. Working tables 2. Cupboards and cabinets for storing the utensils 3. Stoves 4. Cooking and serving utensils 1. The provision for working tables is conditioned by the space available, and every effort must be made to economize this space. The equipment may be placed in the basement or in a small ante-room. In one school in the Province very successful work is being done in a large corridor. When a new school-house is being erected, provision should be made by building a small work-room off the class-room. The possibilities of a small, portable building, in close proximity to the school, should not be overlooked. [Illustration: _Fig._ 22.--Working drawing of folding table] Where the school is provided with a large table, this may be made of service. When used as a working table it should be covered with a sheet of white oil-cloth. When used as a dining-table a white table-cloth may be substituted for the oil-cloth. If the school does not possess a table, two or three boards may be placed on trestles, if the space at the front or the back of the room permits, and these may be stored away when not required. A table with folding legs, such as is shown in Figures 22 and 23, may also be used. The top of the cabinet containing the utensils or an ordinary kitchen table closed in as a cupboard underneath, may be made to serve. Long boards, about eighteen inches wide, placed across the tops of six or eight desks, provide good accommodation. These should be blocked up level and should be provided with cleats at each end, in order to prevent movement. When not in use they may stand flat against the wall and occupy very little space. Separate boards, resting on a desk at each end, may also be placed across the aisles. Each of these will provide working space for one pupil. Tables which drop down flat when not in use may be fixed to the walls of the school-room. As schools vary in many respects, it is not possible to outline a plan which will suit all; but that plan should be chosen which will best meet the requirements of the particular school. [Illustration: _Fig._ 23: Folding Table] [Illustration: _Fig._ 24--Household Science Cabinet for Rural Schools] 2. The cupboards and cabinets to contain the utensils may take various forms. A kitchen cabinet costing from twenty-five to thirty-five dollars may be obtained from a furniture store, or one may be made by a local carpenter. A large packing-case painted brown outside and white inside (for cleanliness) is satisfactorily used in some schools. If covered with oil-cloth, the top of this may be used as an additional table. A few shelves placed across a corner of the room and covered with a door or curtain may be used, or it may be possible to devote one shelf of the school cupboard to the storing of the utensils. It is desirable to have a combination cupboard and table, which will contain most of the equipment, including the stove. Figure 24 is a working drawing of such a cabinet, which may be made by a local carpenter or by the older boys of the school. The directions for making this cabinet are as follows: Obtain two boxes and cut or re-make them so that each is 30 inches high when standing on end, 12-1/4 inches across the front inside, and 18 inches from front to back. These will form the two end Sections, A and B. Inside the sides of these boxes nail 1 inch � 7/8 inch strips, to form the slides for the drawer. The slides come within 7/8 of an inch of the front edge. Rails may be nailed across the front. Guide pieces should be nailed to the slides, in order to keep the drawers straight. Divide Section A for one drawer and cupboard. The drawers may be made out of raisin boxes cut down to the required size. To the front of each drawer, nail a piece of beaver board or pine a little larger than the drawer front. Use any handles that may be conveniently obtained. Cut two pieces 4' 9-1/2" � 1-1/2" � 7/8". Space the Sections as shown, and nail these pieces firmly to the fronts of the larger boxes, _A_ and _B_, top and bottom. Four end pieces 18" � 1-1/2" will be required. Fill in Section _C_, in this case, 2' 7-1/2", with the pieces from the box lids or with ordinary flooring. Make a door for the cupboard from similar material. The top is best made from good, clear, white pine. Screw battens across, and screw the whole firmly to the box top from the inside. If more table space is required, make a similar bench top, which can rest on top of the cabinet when not in use. When required, it may be placed over the desks. Steel or glass shoes or wooden skids or battens should be fixed under the cabinet, so that it can be pulled away from the stove and replaced easily. The dimensions given are for a two-flame-burner oil-stove which is 30 inches high, 31 inches across the front, and 16 inches from front to back. The middle Section, _C_, and the total height of the cabinet may be enlarged or reduced to fit other sizes of stoves. [Illustration: _Fig._ 25.--Cabinet, showing stove in position for use] [Illustration: _Fig._ 26.--Cabinet, with stove behind centre partition when not in use] The material required for, and the approximate cost of, such a cabinet, labour not included, are as follows: 2 boxes @ 25 $0.50 5 raisin boxes @ 5 .25 5 handles at 45c per doz. .20 1 cupboard latch .15 or 1 turn button .02 About 9 sq. ft. flooring .25 About 8 sq. ft. pine for top .50 Pieces for battens, etc. .25 Steel shoes .10 [Illustration: _Fig._ 27.--Space taken by equipment in class-room] Figure 27 shows another type of equipment and the space it occupies in the class-room when not in use. The cupboard and the back of the cabinet contain the equipment necessary for teaching twelve pupils at one time and also for serving one hot dish at the noon lunch to twenty-four pupils. One drawer contains linen, etc., and the other, knives, forks, and spoons. The dimensions of the cupboard and the cabinet are shown in Figures 28 and 29, and the construction of each is such that it can be made easily by any carpenter. [Illustration: _Fig._ 28.--Working drawings of cupboard] [Illustration: _Fig._ 29.--Working drawing of cabinet] [Illustration: _Fig._ 30.--Cupboard with drawers and doors open, showing equipment] Figure 30 shows the cupboard and drawers open and the method of storing the equipment. The shelves may be covered with white oil-cloth or brown paper, in order to obviate the necessity for frequent scrubbing. The cupboard may be fixed to the wall with mirror plates or small iron brackets, or it may be screwed through the back. [Illustration: _Fig._ 31.--Back of cabinet with equipment in place] [Illustration: _Fig._ 32.--Back of cabinet with stove removed] Figure 31 shows the back of the cabinet, with the three-flame-burner stove-oven, the one-flame-burner stove, and other utensils in place. The folding table, previously described, rests on the top of the cabinet. Figure 32 shows the back of the cabinet with the stove and oven removed. The method of storing utensils and the construction of the cabinet are clearly shown. [Illustration: _Fig._ 33.--Three-flame-burner oil-stove, with kettles and one-flame-burner oil-stove on shelf] [Illustration: _Fig._ 34.--Household Science equipment with drop-leaf table] Figure 33 shows the three-flame-burner oil-stove with the shelf underneath containing three kettles and the one-flame-burner oil-stove. Another type of equipment is shown in Figure 34. Each end of the top of this cabinet drops down when the cupboard doors are closed, space being thus economized. The top of the table may be covered with oil-cloth or zinc carefully tacked down on the edges. The directions for making this cabinet are as follows: MATERIALS REQUIRED Lumber: 7 pieces 3/4" � 4" � 14' yellow pine ceiling 6 pieces 1" � 4" � 12' yellow pine flooring 1 piece 1" � 12" � 12' } 1 piece 1" � 8" � 12' } No. 1 common white pine 1 piece 1/2" � 6" � 14' } 4 white pine laths Hardware: 7 pairs 1-1/2" � 3" butt hinges 3 cupboard catches 1 piece zinc (27" � 39") 2 pieces zinc (21" � 27") 1 drawer pull 1 lb. 8d finishing nails 1 lb. 6d finishing nails 1/4 lb. box 1" brads 1/4 lb. box 1-1/4" brads 1 box tacks 2 ft. stopper chain STOCK BILL +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |Lumber |Cut into |Finished Dimensions |Use | | | the | | | | |following| | | | | pieces: | | | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ | 1" � 8" � 12' | 2 |13-16" � 2" � 32-1/2" |Top side rails | | | 2 |13-16" � 2" � 18-1/2" |Top end rail | | | 4 |13-16" � 2" � 29-3/4" |Frame posts | | | 1 |13-16" � 2" � 30-7/8" |Bottom side | | | | |rail | | | 2 |13-16" � 2" � 18-1/2" |Bottom end | | | | |rails | | | 1 |13-16" � 5" � 14-3/8" |Drop door | +------------- -----+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |2 pieces, 1" � 4" � | | |Flooring | |12' flooring | 7 |3/4" � 3-1/4" � 32-1/2"|(bottom) | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |5 pieces, 1" � 4" � | | |Ceiling (ends | |14' yellow pine | | |and side) | |ceiling | 24 |1/4" � 3-1/4" � 31-1/4"| | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |1" � 12" � 12' | 3 |13-16" � 10-1/4" � | | | | | 32-1/2" |Shelf | | | 1 |13-16" � 8" � 32-1/2" |Shelf | | | 3 |13-16" � 1-3/4" � | | | | | 31-1/4 |Casing | | | 2 |13-16" � 1-3/4" � | | | | | 14-3/8" |Casing | | | 1 |13-16" � 5" � 14-3/8" |Drawer front | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |2 pieces, 1" � 4" � | | |Top | |12' flooring | 8 |3/4" � 3-1/4" � 36" | | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |2 pieces, 1" � 4" � | | |Doors | |14' yellow pine | | | | |ceiling | 10 |3/4" � 3-1/4" � 22-7/8"| | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |2 pieces, 1" � 4" � | | |Swing tops | |12' flooring | 12 |3/4" � 3-1/4" � 24" | | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |1/2" � 6" � 12' | 2 |7-16" � 5" � 19-5/8" |Drawer slides | | | 1 |7-16" � 5" � 13-1/2" |Drawer back | | | 4 |7-16" � 4-3/4" � | | | | | 13-1/2" |Drawer bottom | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ |1/2" � 6" � 12' | 1 |7-16" � 4-1/2" � | | | | | 13-1/2" |Partitions | | | 3 |7-16" � 4-1/2" � 10" |Partitions | +--------------------+---------+-----------------------+---------------+ TOOLS Rule Lead-pencil Saw Hammer Steel square Plane 1/2" Chisel and Screw-driver DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING I Cutting and Squaring Stock-- Cut the stock only as needed, in the following order, and square up according to the directions previously given. 1. Frame; rip the 1" � 8" � 12' piece for the frame material 2. Bottom 3. Ends and sides 4. Shelves 5. Top 6. Casing 7. Doors 8. Swing tops 9. Miscellaneous pieces II Assembling-- Frame: 1. Check up the dimensions of the pieces squared up for the frame. 2. Lay out and cut the lap joints in the top side rails and frame posts, as shown in the drawing. 3. Nail the frame together. 4. Test the corners of the frame with a steel try-square and brace it by nailing, temporarily, several strips diagonally across the corners. Bottom: 1. Cut seven pieces of flooring 32-1/2" long for the bottom and plane off the groove of one piece. 2. Turn the frame upside down and nail this piece with the smooth edge projecting 7/8" over the front side of the frame. Nail the rest of the flooring so that each piece matches tightly. Ends: 1. For the back, cut eleven pieces of ceiling 31-1/4" long. 2. Plane off the groove edge of one piece of ceiling and nail it on the back of the frame even with the end. 3. Nail the rest of the ceiling on the back. Be sure that each joint matches tightly. [Illustration: _Fig._ 35.--Frame of cabinet nailed together] Shelves: 1. Make four strips (3/4" � 3/4" � 16-1/2") and nail two of them inside, across each end, 15" and 24" from the bottom. These strips hold the shelves. 2. From a 1" � 12" piece cut two pieces 32-1/2" long; fit and nail them in for the upper shelf. 3. Make the bottom shelf of two pieces, one 10-1/4" wide and the other 8" wide. When these boards are nailed in place, the shelf is narrow enough to allow the doors, with pockets on, to close. 4. Make two strips; one 13-16" � 1" � 16-1/2" and the other 13-16" � 1-3/4" � 20-1/2", and nail them to the top shelf for drawer guides. Top: 1. Cut eight pieces of flooring 36" long for the top. 2. Plane off the groove of one piece and nail it on the top of the frame, so that the smooth edge and the ends project 1" over the front side and ends of the cabinet. 3. Nail the rest of the flooring on for the top, being sure that each joint matches tightly. The last piece must also project 1" over the back side. Casing: 1. Nail the casing, which is 1-3/4" wide, on the front of the cabinet. Doors: 1. Make each door 3/4" � 14-3/8" � 22-7/8" from five pieces of ceiling 22-7/8" long, held together by cleats at the top and bottom. 2. Fit each door carefully, then hang them with butt hinges. Fasten a cupboard catch on each door. Drop Door: 1. Make the drop door 13-16" � 14-3/8" and hinge it with a pair of butt hinges. Put on the stopper chain and catch. Swing Tops: The swing tops are each made from six pieces of flooring 24" long cleated together. [Illustration: _Fig_. 36.--Working details] 1. Plane off the groove edge of one piece and match them all together. 2. Make the cleats 3/4" � 2" � 15" and nail the top to them. (See the drawing for the position of the cleats.) 3. Rip off the tongue edge and plane it so that the top is exactly 18" wide. 4. Turn the cabinet upside down on the floor and fit the swing tops. Hang them with a pair of butt hinges opposite the ends of the cleats. 5. Make a T-brace with a nailed cross lap joint from two pieces, one being 13-16" � 2" � 14", the other 13-16" � 2" � 16-1/2". The long edge of the T and the leg must be bevelled 13-16" on one side. Fit and hang a T-brace with a pair of butt hinges on each side of the swing tops. 6. Make two brace cleats and fasten them to the ends of the cabinet, so that the swing tops are held level and even with the top of the cabinet. Putting Zinc on the Top: 1. Unscrew the swing tops from the cabinet to put the zinc on. 2. Place the piece of zinc, 27" � 39", on top, extending 1-1/2" over the edges all around. 3. Hold the zinc firmly in place and make a square bend along the front edge with a hammer or mallet, bending the edge of the zinc up under the top. 4. Punch a straight row of holes 1" apart through the zinc and tack it on. 5. Bend the back edge, punch and tack in the same manner as the front edge, but be sure the zinc fits snugly on the top. 6. Bend the ends of the zinc the same as before, but be very careful to fold the corners neatly. 7. Put the zinc on the swing tops in the same manner. 8. Fasten the swing tops again to the top of the cabinet. [Illustration: _Fig._ 37.--Working details] Drawer: The drawer front, 13-16" � 5" � 14-3/8", with lap 3/8" � 1/2" cut out on the ends. 1. Nail the sides, 1/2" � 5" � 19-5/8", to the lap of the front and to the ends of the back. 2. Nail the bottom in between the sides 1/8" from the lower edge. This allows the drawer to slide on the edges of the sides. 3. Put the partitions in the drawer as called for by this plan. The racks for covers and pie tins shown in the drawings are made from two pieces, 13-16" � 2" � 4", one piece 13-16" � 2" � 10-1/2" for the bottom, and two pieces of lath 12" long for the sides. These racks may be placed on the doors as shown, or may be changed to suit the equipment. III Finishing-- 1. Set all the nails and putty the holes. 2. Sandpaper the cabinet carefully. 3. Paint or stain and wax the outside of the cabinet, to harmonize with the surroundings where it is to be used. 4. Paint the inside with two coats of white enamel. [Illustration: _Fig._ 38.--Cabinet completed] Before putting on the enamel, apply a coat of ordinary white-lead paint and allow it to dry thoroughly. If desired, the outside of the cabinet may be finished in white enamel, though this is somewhat more expensive than the paint or stain recommended above. All the Household Science Cabinets shown have a two-fold purpose. In the first place, they furnish storage space for the utensils and working space for the pupils. In the second place, they offer a most interesting manual training project for a boys' club. The members can make any one of them, thus correlating their practical woodwork and the domestic science of the girls and, in this way, exhibiting the co-operative spirit of the home and the school. 3. In some cases it may be possible to use the school stove for cooking purposes. Some schools use natural gas for heating and, where this is the case, provision for cooking may readily be made. Other schools situated on a hydro-electric line, may, as has been done in one case, use electricity as a source of heat. At present, however, the majority of schools may find it best to use one of the many oil-stoves now on the market. One-, two-, or three-flame-burner stoves may be obtained for general use. The two-, or three-flame-burner stoves are recommended, as they are less likely to be overturned. The one-flame-burner stove, however, is often useful as an additional provision. A good grade of oil should be used, and the stove should be kept scrupulously clean, constant attention being paid to the condition of the wick. Any oil spilt on the stove when it is being filled should be carefully wiped off before lighting. If attention is paid to these details, the stove will burn without any perceptible odour. 4. The number of the utensils and the amount of equipment depend upon the community and the number of pupils to be considered. By careful planning few utensils are needed. They should be as good as the people of the neighbourhood can afford and, in general, should be of the same character as those used in the homes of the district. All the table-cloths, towels, dish-cloths, etc., required should be hemmed by the pupils. Articles for storing supplies may be bought or donated. Glass canisters with close lids are best, but as substitutes, fruit jars, jelly glasses, or tin cans will serve the purpose. It is an easy matter to secure an empty lard-bucket or a syrup-can for flour or meal, empty coffee-cans for sugar or starch, etc., and baking-powder or cocoa-tins for spices. Each should be plainly labelled. Several typical lists of equipment in Household Science are given here. These may be modified to suit particular circumstances. Considerable expense may be saved if the pupils bring their own individual equipment--soup-bowl, cup and saucer, plate, spoon, knife, fork, and paper napkins. This plan is not advised unless it is absolutely necessary, but, if followed, an effort should be made to have the articles as uniform as possible. The following equipment is that contained in the cabinet illustrated on page 152 and is sufficient for giving organized instruction to six pupils. If a noon lunch is provided, additional individual equipment will be required. EQUIPMENT FOR RURAL SCHOOL HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE CABINET--NO. 1 1 Perfection blue-flame stove (two-flame) $15.00 1 Two-burner oven 4.50 1 Coal-oil can .50 1 Dish-pan 1.15 1 Tea-kettle 1.50 1 Large sauce-pan and cover .75 2 Medium sauce-pans and covers, 30c each .60 2 Small sauce-pans and covers, 25c each .50 2 Frying-pans, 20c ea. .40 2 Pudding bake-dishes, 50c ea. 1.00 2 Muffin pans (12 rings, each 30c) .60 1 Soap-dish .25 4 Small mixing bowls, 16c ea. .64 2 Pitchers, 55c ea. 1.10 3 Casseroles, 20c, 25c, 30c .75 6 Measuring cups, 90c ea. .60 6 Custard cups, 90c doz. .45 6 White plates, $1.45 doz. .73 6 Supply jars, 90c doz. .45 2 Vegetable brushes, 5c ea. .10 1 Grater .20 2 Egg-beaters, 10c ea. .20 12 Forks 2.25 12 Teaspoons 1.20 6 Tablespoons, $2.85 doz. 1.43 6 Vegetable knives, 25c ea. 1.50 6 Case knives, $3.00 doz. 1.50 2 Strainers, 20c ea. .40 1 Spatula .40 1 Bread knife .50 1 Can-opener .10 1 French knife .45 2 Water pails, $1.15 ea. 2.30 6 Dish-towels, 25c ea. 1.50 3 Dish-cloths, 10c ea. .30 3 Rinsing cloths, 10c ea. .30 1 yd. oil-cloth .45 5 yards cheesecloth .35 EQUIPMENT FOR RURAL SCHOOL HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE CABINET--NO. II The equipment included in the Cabinet and Cupboard shown in Figure 27, page 154, is as follows: For Six Pupils 1 Cupboard $15.00 1 Cabinet table 10.00 1 Three-burner oil-stove 21.00 1 Portable oven 2.20 1 Storage tin 1.35 2 Dish-pans 1.30 2 Draining pans .90 2 Scrub basins .80 2 Soap-dishes .40 1 Pail .55 2 Pails 1.80 2 Dippers .70 2 Tea-kettles 2.00 3 Kneading boards .90 3 Rolling-pins .45 1 Oil-can 1.10 1 Stove mitt .20 1 Dust-pan .10 1 Whisk .15 2 Scrub-brushes .30 3 Vegetable brushes .15 3 Stew pans 1.05 2 Sauce-pans .50 3 Frying-pans .75 3 Strainers .39 3 Pie plates .15 3 Measuring cups (tin) .30 1 Measuring cup (glass) .15 1 Double boiler .85 3 Baking-dishes .38 2 Cake tins .30 3 Toasters .30 1 Tea-pot .25 1 Coffee-pot .35 1 Pitcher (2 quarts) .18 1 " (1 pint) .10 5 Bowls .60 6 Custard cups .60 1 Butter crock .30 1 Covered pail (1 pint) .15 2 Trays .20 1 Grater .10 1 Potato masher .10 1 Can-opener .10 1 French knife .35 1 Bread " .35 3 Egg-beaters .15 1 Dover egg-beater .10 3 Wooden spoons .15 6 Paring knives .90 For Eight Pupils 1 Cupboard $15.00 1 Cabinet table 10.00 1 Collapsible table 5.00 1 Three-burner oil-stove 21.00 1 One-burner oil-stove 6.50 1 Portable oven 2.20 1 Storage tin 1.35 2 Dish-pans 1.30 2 Draining pans .90 4 Scrub basins 1.60 2 Soap-dishes .40 1 Pail .55 2 Pails 1.80 2 Dippers .70 3 Tea-kettles 3.00 4 Kneading boards 1.20 4 Rolling-pins .60 1 Oil-can 1.10 1 Stove mitt .20 1 Dust-pan .10 1 Whisk .15 4 Scrub brushes .60 4 Vegetable brushes .20 4 Stew-pans 1.40 2 Sauce-pans .50 4 Frying-pans 1.00 4 Strainers .52 4 Pie plates .20 4 Measuring cups (tin) .40 1 Measuring cup (glass) .15 1 Double boiler .85 4 Baking-dishes .50 2 Cake tins .30 4 Toasters .40 1 Tea-pot .25 1 Coffee-pot .35 2 Pitchers (2 quarts) .35 1 Pitcher (1 quart) .10 6 Bowls .72 6 Custard cups .60 1 Butter crock .30 1 Covered pail (1 pint) .15 2 Trays .20 1 Grater .10 1 Potato masher .10 1 Can-opener .10 1 French knife .35 1 Bread " .35 4 Egg-beaters .20 1 Dover egg-beater .10 4 Wooden spoons .20 6 Paring knives .90 For Twelve Pupils 1 Cupboard $15.00 1 Cabinet table 10.00 1 Collapsible table 5.00 2 Three-burner oil-stoves 42.00 1 Portable oven 2.20 1 storage tin 1.35 3 Dish-pans 1.95 3 Draining-pans 1.35 6 Scrub basins 2.40 3 Soap-dishes .60 1 Pail .55 2 Pails 1.80 2 Dippers .70 3 Tea-kettles 3.00 6 Kneading boards 1.80 6 Rolling-pins .90 1 Oil-can 1.10 2 Stove mitts .40 1 Dust-pan .10 1 Whisk .15 6 Scrub brushes .90 6 Vegetable brushes .30 6 Stew pans 2.10 3 Sauce-pans .75 6 Frying-pans 1.50 6 Strainers .78 6 Pie plates .30 6 Measuring cups (tin) .60 1 Measuring cup (glass) .15 1 Double boiler .85 6 Baking-dishes .75 3 Cake tins .45 6 Toasters .60 1 Tea-pot .25 1 Coffee-pot .35 2 Pitchers (2 qt.) .35 2 " (1 qt.) .20 8 Bowls .96 6 Custard cups .60 1 Butter crock .30 1 Covered pail (1 pt.) .15 2 Trays .20 1 Grater .10 1 Potato masher .10 1 Can-opener .10 1 French knife .35 1 Bread " .35 6 Egg-beaters .30 3 Dover egg-beaters .30 6 Wooden spoons .30 12 Paring knives 1.80 In the equipment for twelve pupils, three one-burner oil-stoves at $6.50 each might be used in place of the second large stove. In this case extra provision must be made for storing the stoves when not in use, as the cabinet shown does not provide space for more than one large stove. Care should be taken in using the one-burner stove to avoid upsetting it while it is in use. The equipment given above is generous, and reductions may be made if necessary. In any case it is not advisable that the whole equipment should be purchased at once; only sufficient to make a beginning should be secured, and further utensils may be added as the necessity for their use arises. If a hot dish is served at the noon lunch, as is most desirable, the following will be needed in addition, in order to serve twenty-four pupils: 24 Knives $2.40 24 Forks 1.20 24 Teaspoons .40 12 Tablespoons .60 6 Salt and pepper shakers 1.50 24 Glasses 1.50 24 Plates 2.20 4 Plates (large) .50 24 Cups and saucers 4.20 24 Fruit and vegetable dishes 1.50 HECTOGRAPH The hectograph is a device for making copies of written work. Teachers whose schools have limited black-board space will find it of great service. Recipes and other rules for work may be copied and distributed to the pupils, and thus kept in a permanent form. Many other uses in connection with the general work of the school will suggest themselves. The following are the directions for making: Soak 1-1/2 ounces of white glue in three ounces of water until it is well softened. Cook in a double boiler until the whole mass is smooth. Remove from the fire and add six ounces of glycerine. Mix well, re-heat, skim, and pour into a shallow pan or on a slate. Prick the bubbles as soon as they show. Allow the mixture to stand for twenty-four hours, and it is then ready for use. Write the material to be copied, in hectograph ink, on a sheet of the same size as that on which the copy is to be made. Write clearly and space carefully. Wipe the hectograph with a damp cloth. Lay a sheet of unglazed paper on the hectograph, rub it carefully, and take off at once. This removes any drops of water, but leaves the surface moist. Lay the written side of the sheet on the hectograph and rub it carefully over its whole surface with a soft cloth, so that every particle of the writing comes in contact with the surface of the hectograph. Leave it there for four or five minutes. Lift one corner and peel off carefully. Lay a plain sheet on the hectograph and rub as before. Take off as before. If the copy is not clear, leave the next sheet on a little longer. When sufficient copies have been made, wash the hectograph with a wet cloth before putting it away. Keep in a cool, dry place. THE RURAL SCHOOL LUNCH The best method of approach to Household Science in the rural school is through the medium of the hot noon-day lunch or the preparation of one or two hot dishes to supplement the lunch brought from home. Owing to the fact that many pupils live far from the school, it is impossible for them to go home for the mid-day meal, and they are thus dependent upon lunches which they bring with them. Very frequently the pupils are allowed to eat their lunches where and how they please, and the method chosen is conducive neither to comfort nor to health. In fine weather they do not wish to lose any time from their games, and so they eat their food while playing, or they bolt it, in order that they may get to their play more quickly. In severe weather they crowd round the steps or the stove and do not hesitate to scatter crumbs and crusts. In one case even a teacher has been seen holding a sandwich in one hand and writing on the black-board with the other. In many cases the lunch does not attract the pupil. It is often carried, without proper wrapping, in a tin pail, and it then absorbs the taste of the tin; again, it is often wrapped in a newspaper and is flavoured with printer's ink; occasionally, it is wrapped in cloth not too clean. Conditions such as these are not fair to the pupils. They come a long way to school, often over poor roads; and it is necessary, for both their physical and their mental development, that they should receive adequate nourishment served as attractively as possible. Many of the defects found among school children can be traced, to a greater or less extent, to lack of nutrition. The United States military draft shows that the number of those physically defective is from seven to twenty per cent. higher in rural districts than in towns and cities, and this difference is not peculiar to that country. May we not reasonably suppose that many of these defects are caused by mal-nutrition, and that this mal-nutrition is in part due to the poor noon-day lunch? As these defects hinder mental as well as physical development, the question of proper nutrition through the medium of the school lunch becomes an educational one. THE BOX LUNCH With proper care in the selection of food, the packing of the lunch box, and rational methods of consumption, there is no reason why the box lunch should not be nourishing, attractive, and possess an educational value. It may be laid down as an axiom that every school lunch should be supervised by the teacher and hap-hazard methods of eating the lunch should be prohibited. Those schools that are fortunate enough to possess a large table can approximate somewhat to the best home conditions, and have the table set in the proper manner, as shown in Lesson VI, page 18. The pupils should sit round the table, at the head of which is the teacher, and the lunch may be made to partake of the nature of a family party. If rightly managed, the meal, even under the unusual difficulties presented in the rural school, may offer the most favourable opportunities to inculcate habits of cleanliness and neatness and to cultivate good manners. The pupils will learn something about the proper selection of food and the importance of thorough mastication. Clean hands and faces and tidy hair should be insisted upon, and individual drinking cups should be encouraged. As a manual training exercise, each pupil may be taught to make his own drinking cup from heavy waxed paper. Grace may be said by the older pupils in turn. The table should be made to look as attractive as possible. The pupils, in turn, might undertake to have the table-cloth washed at home or, in place of a linen cloth, a covering of white oil-cloth may be used. In some cases the school garden will be able to supply flowers or a growing plant for a centrepiece. Three or four of the larger pupils, either boys or girls, may set the table in ten minutes, while the others are washing their hands and faces and tidying their hair. Some such plan as this will add palatability and cheer to the monotony of the everyday cold and often unattractive lunch and will create a spirit of true and healthy sociability among the pupils. In schools that do not possess tables large enough to be used as suggested above, each pupil should be required to set one place at his own desk, as shown in the illustration on page 20. A paper napkin may be used for a table-cloth, if a small piece of white oil-cloth is not procurable. Each pupil retains his place until all have finished; he should then dispose of the crumbs and leave his desk tidy. From twenty minutes to half an hour is generally found sufficient for the meal. There should be cheerful conversation and restrained laughter throughout the meal, and acts of courtesy and generosity should be encouraged. At seasons when there are no flies, and on days when the weather is favourable, it is a pleasant change to serve lunch out-of-doors. The lunch is provided by the home, but the teacher may give some useful lessons in Household Science by talks on the contents of the lunch box and the proper methods of packing the same, so that the food will keep in good condition until the time for its consumption arrives. It is the duty of the school authorities to provide a suitable storage place for the lunch boxes. These boxes should be kept free from dust or flies and in a place where the food will not freeze in winter. Open shelves, so often seen, are not suitable and a properly ventilated cupboard in the school-room should be provided. CONTENTS OF THE LUNCH BOX The whole question of the box lunch presents a serious problem, when we consider the large number of children who must depend upon it for their noon-day meal. This meal should be so constituted as to make it a real meal and not a makeshift. The same principles which govern the preparation of the meal should govern the preparation of the lunch box. It is said that the school lunch should consist of "something starchy and something meaty, something fat and something fibrous, something sweet and something savoury". With so many varieties of breads, meats, cheese, jams, etc., innumerable kinds of sandwiches may be made. For example, there are brown, graham, rye, raisin, nut, and date breads, and equally many kinds of meat. Such variety makes it quite unnecessary to have an egg sandwich or hard-boiled eggs in the lunch box each day. While eggs are very valuable in the diet, a lunch with hard-boiled eggs five times each week becomes monotonous, and the appetite of the consumer flags. With skill and thought one can make little scraps of meat or other "left-overs" into attractive sandwiches. Ends of meat, ground and mixed with salad dressing or cream, make delicious sandwich fillings. SANDWICH MAKING The bread should be cut evenly. The thickness of the slice should vary with the appetite of the consumer. The crust should not be removed. The butter should be creamed for spreading. Both slices should be buttered, in order to prevent the absorption of the filling. The filling should be carefully placed between the slices. The sandwiches should be wrapped in waxed paper, to prevent drying. SUGGESTIONS FOR SANDWICH FILLING 1. Egg and ham: Three eggs hard boiled and chopped fine or ground An equal amount of chopped or boiled ham Salad dressing Mix and spread. 2. Raisin filling: One cup of raisins ground or chopped One half-cup of water One half-cup of sugar One tablespoonful of flour into the same quantity of vinegar Juice and grated rind of one lemon Cook in a double boiler until thick. 3. Fig filling: Remove the stems and chop the figs fine. Add a small quantity of water. Cook in a double boiler until a paste is formed. Add a few drops of lemon juice. Chopped peanuts may be added. 4. Egg: Chop a hard-cooked egg. Mix with salad dressing or melted butter, to a spreading consistency. 5. Equal parts of finely-cut nuts and grated cheese, with salad dressing 6. Equal parts of grated cheese and chopped olives 7. Sardines with lemon juice or a little dressing 8. Chopped dates with a little cream. Nuts may be added. 9. Thinly sliced tomatoes (seasonal) 10. Sliced cucumbers 11. Marmalade. Chopped nuts may be added. SUGGESTIONS FOR PLANNING In selecting the food the following suggestions may prove helpful: _Protein_--Sandwiches of fish, meat, egg, cheese, nuts, dish of cottage cheese For the older pupils, baked beans _Carbohydrates_--Bread, cake, cookies, jam, honey, dates, figs, raisins, prunes, candy _Fats_--Butter, cream, peanut-butter _Mineral matter_--Celery, lettuce, radish, tomatoes; fresh fruits _Note._--When possible, a bottle of clean sweet milk should form part of every lunch. SUGGESTIONS FOR DESSERTS Cup custards of various flavours Cookies with nuts and fruits Cakes--not too rich Pies well made and with good filling Candy--plain home-made Preserves Canned fruits Fresh fruits As often as possible, a surprise should be included, generally in the form of a dessert of which the pupil is fond. A surprise adds to the pupil's pleasure in eating and, indirectly, aids digestion. PACKING THE LUNCH BOX Much of the attractiveness of a lunch depends upon the manner of packing. We must consider the fact that the foods must be packed together closely and must remain so packed for several hours. This makes careful packing a necessity. RULES FOR PACKING 1. Be sure that the box is absolutely clean. 2. Line it with fresh paper every time it is used. 3. Wrap each article of food in wax paper. 4. Place in the box neatly, the food that is to be used last in the bottom of the box, unless it is easily crushed. 5. Lay a neatly folded napkin on the top. EQUIPMENT FOR PACKING Lunch box Waxed paper Paper napkin Cup or container with screw top Drinking cup Knife, fork, and spoon Thermos bottle or jar for milk or other liquid The box itself should be of odourless material, permanent, and light in weight, admitting of safe means of ventilation. Paper bags should never be used for food containers, as it is impossible to pack the lunch in them firmly and well and there is danger of their being torn or of insects or flies creeping into them. Boxes of fibre, tin, basket weave, or other material, may be used. The box will require scrubbing, and should be frequently dried and aired well. Many types of lunch boxes have compartments provided for the various kinds of food. Waxed paper and paper napkins, or the somewhat heavier paper towels of much the same size, are very useful for packing lunches, and may be obtained at a low price, particularly if bought in large quantities. An extra napkin, either of paper or cloth, should be put in the basket, to be spread over the school desk when the lunch is eaten. Napkins can be made out of cotton crepe at a cost of a very few cents each. The crepe may be bought by the yard and should be cut into squares and fringed. Such napkins have the advantage of not needing to be ironed. Paper cups, jelly tumblers with covers which can now be bought in several sizes, and bottles with screw tops, such as those in which candy and other foods are sold, may all be used for packing jellies, jams, honey, etc. The thermos bottle may be used for carrying milk, or, if this is too expensive, a glass jar with a tight cover may be substituted. If the thermos bottle is used, hot drinks may also be carried. SERVING A HOT DISH The serving of a hot lunch or of one hot dish need be neither an elaborate nor an expensive matter. Many rural schools in the United States, some of them working under conditions worse than any of ours, are serving at least one hot dish to supplement the lunch brought from home. The advantages of this plan are: 1. It enables the pupils to do better work in the afternoon. 2. It adds interest to the school work and makes the pupils more ready to go to school in bad weather. 3. It gives some practical training and paves the way toward definite instruction in Household Science. 4. It gives a better balance to meals, and as compared with a cold lunch it aids digestion. 5. It teaches neatness. 6. It gives opportunity to teach table manners. 7. It strengthens the relationship between the home and the school. THE METHOD The teacher should have a meeting of the school trustees and of the mothers of the pupils and outline the method of procedure. It is only in this way that the co-operation of all can be secured, and without this co-operation there can be no success. This meeting should be addressed by the Public School Inspector; and after the consent of the parents and the trustees has been secured, the scheme may be put into operation. Some thought will have to be given to the organization, in order that the plan may work smoothly. If properly organized, there need be little or no interruption to the ordinary routine of the school. The pupils, both boys and girls, should be arranged in groups, each group taking the work in turn. Even the smallest pupils should be allowed to take part, as there are many duties which they can perform successfully. If each group is composed of five or six pupils, the work may be arranged as follows: two will prepare the dish, two will get the table or the desks ready (or each pupil may prepare his own desk), and the others will wash the dishes. The furnishing of supplies is a problem which each teacher will have to solve for herself, according to the conditions which exist in the community. Supplies which can be stored are best purchased by the school trustees; while the mothers of the pupils should furnish the perishable articles, such as milk and butter. As often as possible, the pupils may be asked to bring various articles, such as a potato, an apple, a carrot, an egg, etc. These may be combined and prepared in quantities. The school garden should be relied upon to supply many vegetables in season, thus adding interest and life to both the garden work and the lunch. In some districts the neighbourhood is canvassed for subscriptions in order to provide funds to purchase supplies for the term lunches. Some schools give a concert or entertainment in order to raise funds for this purpose, and in others all the supplies have been purchased by the school trustees. The pupils who are to prepare the hot dish may make the necessary preparations before school or at recess, and they must so time the cooking that the dish will be ready when required. They should be allowed to leave their desks during school hours to give it attention if necessary. In schools where this method is adopted, it has been found that the privilege has never been abused, nor have the other pupils been less attentive on account of it. However, most of the recipes suggested later require little or no attention while cooking. At twelve o'clock the assigned pupils get the dish ready for serving and set the table. The others wash their hands, tidy their hair, and get their lunch boxes. All pass to their places. The pupils who have prepared the dish may serve it, using trays to carry each pupil's supply, or the pupils may pass in line before the serving table and to their places, time being thus saved. When the meal is finished, the pupils rise and bring their dishes to the serving table and stack them with the other dishes. Two remain behind to clear up and wash the dishes, while the others go to play. If the desks are used, each pupil is responsible for leaving his own desk clean. The pupils may be required to keep an account of the cost of the food and to calculate the cost per head per day or per week. A schedule of the market prices of food should be posted in a conspicuous place, and the pupils may take turns in keeping these prices up to date. A separate black-board may be used for this purpose. The dish chosen should be as simple as possible--a vegetable or cream soup, cocoa, baked potatoes, baked apples, white sauce with potatoes or other vegetables, apple sauce, rice pudding, etc. It may be well, in some cases, to have plans made on Friday for the following week. As a rule, each day a little before or after four o'clock, the recipe for the following day should be discussed, the quantities worked out to suit the number of pupils, and the supplies arranged for. The element of surprise should be made use of occasionally, the pupils not being allowed to know the dish until they take their places. SUGGESTED MENUS The following are some suggested menus in which the food brought from home is supplemented by one hot dish. (The name of the hot dish is printed in italics.) 1. _Potato soup_, meat sandwiches, orange, sponge cake 2. _Cream of tomato soup_, bread and butter sandwiches, stuffed egg, pear, oatmeal cookies 3. _Apple cooked with bacon_, bread and butter sandwiches, gingerbread, milk 4. _Cocoa_, date sandwiches, celery, graham crackers, apple 5. _Stewed apples_, egg sandwiches, plain cake, prunes stuffed with cottage cheese 6. _Custard_, brown bread sandwiches, apple, raisins, sauce, molasses cookies 7. _Baked beans_, bread and butter sandwiches, fruit, sauce, molasses cookies SUGGESTIONS FOR HOT DISHES FOR FOUR WEEKS _First week_ _Second week_ Monday Potato soup Rice and milk Tuesday Cocoa Tomato soup Wednesday Coddled eggs Egg broth Thursday Creamed potatoes Chocolate custard Friday Soft custard Rice and tomato _Third week_ _Fourth week_ Monday Macaroni and cheese Rice soup Tuesday Creamed eggs Cocoa Wednesday Cheese soup Boiled rice and milk Thursday Apple sauce Soft-cooked eggs Friday Cheese Wheat pudding _First week_ _Second week_ Monday Rice soup Macaroni and cheese Tuesday Cocoa Apple sauce Wednesday Baked apples Shirred eggs Thursday Custard Cheese soup Friday Baked eggs Apple custard _Third week_ _Fourth week_ Monday Potato soup Rice and tomato Tuesday Tapioca cream Apple custard Wednesday Cocoa Tomato soup Thursday Creamed potatoes Cracker pudding Friday Soft custard Cocoa RECIPES SUITABLE FOR THE RURAL SCHOOL LUNCH All the recipes given have been used with success in preparing rural school lunches. The number that the recipe will serve is generally stated and, where this number does not coincide with the number of pupils in any particular school, the quantities required may be obtained by division or multiplication. The recipes given in the lessons on cooking may also be used in preparing the school lunch, as each recipe states the number it will serve. _White Sauce_ 1 c. milk 2 tbsp. flour 1/2 tbsp. butter 1/4 tsp. salt 1/8 tsp. white pepper Reserve one quarter of the milk and scald the remainder in a double boiler. Mix the flour to a smooth paste with an equal quantity of the cold milk and thin it with the remainder. Stir this gradually into the hot milk and keep stirring until it thickens. Add the butter, salt, and pepper, and cover closely until required, stirring occasionally. This recipe makes a sauce of medium consistency. To make a thick white sauce, use 3 or 4 tablespoonfuls of flour to one cup of milk. _Cocoa_ 6 tbsp. (18 tsp.) cocoa 6 tbsp. (18 tsp.) sugar 6 c. milk 6 c. boiling water 1/2 tsp. salt Scald the milk in a double boiler. Mix the cocoa, sugar, and salt, then stir in the boiling water and boil for 3 minutes. Add this mixture to the scalded milk. If a scum forms, beat with a Dover egg-beater for one minute. The preparation should begin at half-past eleven, to have the cocoa ready at twelve o'clock. (Will serve eighteen.) _Potato Soup_ 1 qt. peeled potatoes cut in thin slices 3 qt. milk 2 tsp. salt 4 tsp. butter 4 tbsp. flour 1/8 tsp. black pepper 1 small onion 1/2 tsp. celery seed or a stock of celery Before the opening of school, the potatoes should be pared and put into cold water; and the butter, flour, salt, and pepper should be thoroughly mixed. At eleven o'clock, the potatoes, onion, and celery should be put on to boil gently and the milk put into a double boiler to heat. When the vegetables are tender, they should be strained with the cooking liquid into the hot milk and the mixture bound with the flour. The soup should be closely covered until required. (Will serve ten.) _Cream of Pea Soup_ 1 can peas or 1 qt. fresh peas 1 pt. milk 2 tbsp. butter 2 tbsp. flour 1 tsp. salt 1/4 tsp. pepper Heat the peas in their own water, or cook them in boiling salted water until tender. Put the milk to heat in a double boiler. When the peas are tender, rub them, with the cooking liquid, through a strainer into the scalded milk. Add the butter and flour rubbed to a smooth paste and stir until thickened. Season and cover until required. (Will serve six pupils generously.) _Cream of Tomato Soup_ 1 pt. or 1 can tomatoes 2 tbsp. butter 3 tbsp. flour 1 tsp. sugar 1 qt. milk Sprig of parsley 1/4 tsp. white pepper 1/2 tsp. soda 1 tsp. salt Cook the tomatoes slowly with the seasonings for ten minutes and rub through a strainer. Scald the milk, thicken with the flour and butter rubbed to a paste, re-heat the tomatoes, and add the soda, mix with the milk, and serve at once. (Will serve six pupils generously.) _Cream of Corn Soup_ 2 pt. cans corn 1 pt. cold water 2 slices onion 2 qt. of thin white sauce Seasonings The process is that used in making Cream of Pea Soup. When making the thin white sauce, place the onion in the milk and leave it until the milk is scalded. Then remove the onion to the other mixture and make the sauce. This gives sufficient onion flavour. (Will serve eighteen.) _Lima-bean Soup_ 1 c. Lima beans 2 qt. water 2 whole cloves 1 bay leaf 1 tsp. salt 3 tbsp. butter 2 tbsp. flour 3 tbsp. minced onion 1 tbsp. " carrot 1 tbsp. " celery 1/4 tsp. pepper Soak the beans overnight in soft water or in hard water which has been boiled and cooled. If cold, hard water is used, add 1/4 tsp. baking-soda to 1 qt. of water. In the morning, drain and put on to cook in 2 qt. of water. Simmer until tender. It takes 2 hours. Cook the minced vegetables in the butter for 20 minutes, being careful not to brown them. Drain out the vegetables and put them into the soup. Put the flour and butter into a pan and stir until smooth. Add this mixture to the soup. Add the cloves, bay leaf, and seasonings, and simmer for 1 hour. Rub through a sieve. One cup of milk may be added. Bring to the simmering point and serve. (Will serve eighteen.) _Note._--If desired, the vegetables may be used without browning and the cloves and bay leaf omitted. _Milk and Cheese Soup_ 4 c. milk 2 tbsp. flour 1-1/3 c. grated cheese Salt and pepper to taste Thicken the milk with flour, cooking thoroughly. This is best done in a double boiler, stirring occasionally. When ready to serve, add cheese and seasoning. (Will serve six.) _Cream of Rice Soup_ 4 tbsp. rice 4 c. milk 3 tbsp. butter 1/2 small onion 4 stalks celery 1/2 bay leaf Salt and pepper to taste Scald the milk, add the well-washed rice, and cook for 30 minutes in a closely covered double boiler. Melt the butter and cook the sliced onion and celery in it until tender, but not brown. Add these, with the bay leaf, to the contents of the double boiler, cover, and let it stand on the back of the stove for 15 minutes. Strain, season with salt and pepper, re-heat, and serve. Note that the bay leaf is added and allowed to stand, to increase the flavour, and may be omitted if desired. (Will serve six.) _Rice Pudding_ 3 c. rice 6 c. water 6 c. milk 2 c. sugar 4 eggs 2 tsp. salt 3 c. fruit (chopped raisins) if desired Wash the rice in a strainer placed over a bowl of cold water, by rubbing the rice between the fingers. Lift the strainer from the bowl and change the water. Repeat until the water is clear. Put the water in the upper part of a double boiler directly over the fire, and when it boils rapidly, gradually add the rice to it. Boil rapidly for 5 minutes, then add the milk, to which has been added the sugar, salt, and eggs slightly beaten. Cover, place in the lower part of the double boiler, and cook until kernels are tender--from 45 minutes to 1 hour. If raisins are used, add them before putting the rice in the double boiler. Serve with milk and sugar as desired. (Will serve eighteen.) _Rice Pudding_ 2 c. rice 1 c. raisins 1 tsp. salt 4 qt. milk 1 c. sugar 1 tsp. cinnamon Prepare the rice and raisins and put them, with the other ingredients, in a buttered pan. Bake all forenoon, stirring occasionally during the first hour. Serve with milk or cream. (Will serve ten.) _Cream of Wheat_ 1-1/2 c. cream of wheat 10 c. boiling water 1-1/2 tsp. salt 1-1/2 c. dates (chopped) Put the boiling water and salt in the upper part of the double boiler directly over the heat. When boiling, add the cereal slowly. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens. Add the dates and cook for 5 minutes. Place in the lower part of the double boiler and cook at least 1 hour. Serve with milk and sugar. (Will serve eighteen.) _Scrambled Eggs_ 9 eggs 1 c. milk 2 tbsp. butter 1 tsp. salt Pepper Beat the eggs until the yolks and whites are well mixed. Add the seasonings and milk. Heat the frying-pan, melt the butter in it, and turn in the egg mixture. Cook slowly, scraping the mixture from the bottom of the pan as it cooks. As soon as a jelly-like consistency is formed, remove at once to a hot dish or serve on toast. (Will serve nine.) _Creamed Eggs_ 6 hard-cooked eggs 4 tbsp. butter 2 c. milk 4 tbsp. flour Salt and pepper Melt the butter, add the flour, and stir in the milk gradually. Cook well and season with salt and pepper. Cut hard-cooked eggs in small pieces and add them to the white sauce. It may be served on toast. (Will serve six.) _Egg Broth_ 6 eggs 6 tbsp. sugar 1 c. hot milk Few grains salt Vanilla or nutmeg Beat the eggs and add the sugar and salt. Stir in the hot milk gradually, so that the eggs will cook smoothly. Flavour as desired. (Will serve six.) _Soft-cooked Eggs_ Wash the eggs and put in a sauce-pan, cover with boiling water, remove to the back of the stove or where the water will keep hot, but not boil. Let them stand, covered, from 7 to 10 minutes, according to the consistency desired. _Baked Shirred Eggs_ Butter small earthen cups. Break an egg in each and sprinkle with a few grains of salt and pepper and bits of butter. Bake in a moderate oven until the white is set. For Shirred Eggs proceed as above, but to cook, place in a pan of hot water on the back of the stove, until the white is set. _Creamed Potatoes_ White sauce (medium consistency) 3 tbsp. flour 3 tbsp. butter 1-1/2 c. milk Salt and pepper Make a white sauce of the butter, flour, milk, and seasonings. Cut cold potatoes (about eight) into cubes or slices and heat in the sauce. Serve hot. (Will serve nine.) _Mashed Potatoes_ Boil the potatoes, drain, and mash in the kettle in which they were boiled. When free from lumps, add to each cup of mashed potatoes: 1 tsp. butter 1 or more tbsp. hot milk 1/4 tsp. salt Beat all together until light and creamy. Re-heat, and pile lightly, without smoothing, in a hot dish. _Baked Potatoes_ Use potatoes of medium size. Scrub thoroughly in water with a brush. Place in a pan in a hot oven. Bake from 45 to 60 minutes. When done, roll in a clean napkin and twist until the skin is broken. Serve immediately. (If no oven is available, place a wire rack on the top of the stove. Put the potatoes on this rack and cover them with a large pan. When half cooked, turn.) _Macaroni and Cheese_ 3 c. macaroni (2 pieces) 3 tsp. salt 3 qt. boiling water 6 c. white sauce (medium) Cook the macaroni in boiling salted water until tender. Drain, pour cold water over it, and drain it once more. Put the macaroni into a baking dish, sprinkling a layer of grated cheese upon each layer of macaroni. Pour in the sauce and sprinkle the top with cheese. Cook until the sauce bubbles up through the cheese and the top is brown. To give variety, finely-minced ham, boiled codfish, or any cold meat may be used instead of the cheese. (Will serve ten.) _Cornstarch Pudding_ 1 qt. milk 3/4 c. cornstarch 1/2 tsp. salt 3/4 c. sugar Vanilla Scald the milk in a double boiler. Mix the sugar, cornstarch, and salt together. Gradually add to the hot milk and stir constantly until it thickens. Cover, cook for 30 minutes, add vanilla, and pour into cold, wet moulds. When set, turn out, and serve with milk and sugar. (Will serve nine.) _Apple Sauce_ 9 tart apples 3/4 c. water 6 whole cloves (if desired) 3/4 c. sugar Piece of lemon rind (if desired) Wipe, pare, quarter, and core the apples. Put the water, apples, lemon rind, and cloves into a sauce-pan. Cook covered until the apples are tender, but not broken. Remove the lemon peel and cloves. Add the sugar a few minutes before taking from the fire. The apples may be mashed or put through a strainer. (Will serve nine.) _Note._--The lemon and the cloves may be used when the apples have lost their flavour. _Stewed Prunes or Other Dried Fruit--Apricots, Apples, Pears_ 3/4 lb. fruit (about) 1-1/2 pt. of water 1/3 c. sugar 1 or 2 slices lemon or a few cloves and a piece of cinnamon stick Wash the fruit thoroughly and soak overnight. Cook in the water in which it was soaked. Cover, and simmer until tender. When nearly cooked, add sugar and lemon juice. The cloves and cinnamon should cook with the fruit. All flavourings may be omitted, if desired. (Will serve nine.) _Soft Custard_ 2 c. milk 6 tbsp. sugar 2 eggs 1/2 tsp. vanilla A few grains of salt Scald the milk in a double boiler. Add the sugar and salt to the eggs and beat until well mixed. Stir the hot milk slowly into the egg mixture and return to the double boiler. Cook, stirring constantly, until the spoon, when lifted from the mixture, is coated. Remove immediately from the heat, add vanilla, and pour into a cold bowl. To avoid too rapid cooking, lift the upper from the lower portion of the boiler occasionally. (Will serve six.) _Tapioca Custard Pudding_ 3 c. scalded milk 2 eggs slightly beaten 2 tbsp. butter 4 tbsp. pearl, or minute, tapioca 6 tbsp. sugar A few grains of salt Minute tapioca requires no soaking. Soak the pearl tapioca one hour in enough cold water to cover it. Drain, add to the milk, and cook in a double boiler for 30 minutes. Add to remaining ingredients, pour into buttered baking-dish, and bake for about 25 minutes in a slow oven. (Will serve eight.) _Rice and Tomato_ 2 c. cooked rice 2 tbsp. butter 2 tbsp. flour 2 c. unstrained or 1 c. strained tomato 1 slice of onion minced Salt and pepper Cook the onion with the tomato until soft. Melt the butter, and add the flour, salt, and pepper. Strain the tomato, stir the liquid into the butter and flour mixture, and cook until thick and smooth. Add the rice, heat, and serve. (Will serve six.) _Cracker Pudding_ 6 soda crackers 3 c. milk 3 eggs 6 tbsp. sugar 1/2 tsp. salt Roll the crackers and soak them in milk. Beat the yolks and sugar well together and add to the first mixture, with some salt. Make a meringue with white of eggs, pile lightly on top, and put in the oven till it is a golden brown. Serve hot. (Will serve six.) _Note._--Dried bread crumbs may be used in place of the crackers. _Candied Fruit Peel_ The candied peel of oranges, lemons, grapefruit, and other fruits makes a good sweet which is economical, because it utilizes materials which might otherwise be thrown away. Its preparation makes an interesting school exercise. The skins can be kept in good condition for a long time in salt water, which makes it possible to wait until a large supply is on hand before candying them. They should be washed in clear water, after removing from the salt water, boiled until tender, cut into small pieces, and then boiled in a thick sugar syrup until they are transparent. They should then be lifted from the syrup and allowed to cool in such a way that the superfluous syrup will run off. Finally, they should be rolled in pulverized or granulated sugar. A large number of recipes have been given, in order that a selection may be made according to season, community conditions, and market prices, and so that sufficient variety may be secured from day to day. Attention given to this matter will be well repaid by the improved health of the pupils, the greater interest taken in the school by the parents, and the better afternoon work accomplished. It has been well said: "The school lunch is not a departure from the principle of the obligation assumed by educational authorities toward the child, but an intensive application of the measures adopted for the physical nurture of the child, to the end of securing in adult years the highest efficiency of the citizen". USEFUL BULLETINS _The Rural School Luncheon_: Department of Education, Saskatchewan _The Box Luncheon_: New York State College of Agriculture, Cornell University _Hints to Housewives_: Issued by Mayor Mitchell's Food Supply Committee, New York City _Home Economics in Village and Rural Schools_: Kansas State Agricultural College _Home-made Fireless Cookers and Their Use_: Farmers' Bulletin, United States Department of Agriculture _Hot Lunches for Rural Schools_: Parts I and II, Iowa State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts _Rural School Lunches_: University of Idaho, Agricultural Extension Department _The Rural School Lunch_: University of Illinois College of Agriculture _The School Luncheon_: Oregon Agricultural College HOUSEHOLD SCIENCE WITHOUT SCHOOL EQUIPMENT There is no school so unhappily situated or so poorly equipped that it is unable to teach effectively the lessons previously outlined in the "Care of the Home" and "Sewing". Now that a grant in aid is provided by the Department of Education any rural school may procure one of the sets of equipment for cooking suggested or some modification thereof. As a stepping-stone to the provision of that equipment and as a means of educating the people of the district in regard to the advantages of teaching this branch of Household Science, it may be advisable or even necessary, in some cases, to attempt practical work, even where no equipment is installed by the school authorities. It should be remembered that the present position of Manual Training and Household Science in urban schools is entirely owing to private initiative and demonstration, by which the people were shown how and why these subjects should be included in the curriculum of the schools. It is reasonable to suppose that the same results will follow if somewhat the same methods are tried in the case of the rural schools, which form such a large part of our educational system. Two methods of giving instruction of this character have, in the United States, been followed by successful results. FIRST METHOD In the first of these, the teacher spends the last thirty or forty minutes, generally on Friday afternoons, in the description and discussion of some practical cooking problem which may be performed in the homes of the pupils. Before this plan is adopted, it should be discussed with the pupils who are to take the work. They should be required to promise that they will practise at home; and the consent and co-operation of the parents should be secured, as the success of this home work depends, in the first place, on the willingness of the pupil to accept responsibility, and, in the second place, on the honest and hearty co-operation of the parents. A meeting of the mothers should be called, in order that the plan may be laid before them and their suggestions received. At this meeting afternoon tea might be served. The teacher should plan the lessons, but occasionally, particularly at festive seasons, the pupils themselves should be allowed to decide what shall be made. When it is possible, the food prepared at home should be brought by the pupil to the school, in order that it may be compared with that made by other pupils and be judged by the teacher. In other cases, the mother might be asked to fill up a previously prepared form, certifying to the amount and character of the work done at home by the pupil each week. The instructions placed on the black-board should be clear and concise and give adequate information concerning materials, quantities, and methods. They should be arranged in such a way as to appeal to the eye and thus assist the memory. Connected composition should not be attempted, but the matter should be arranged in a series of numbered steps, somewhat as follows: _Recipe: Boiled Carrots_ Carrots Boiling water Salt and pepper Butter 1. Scrub, scrape, and rinse the carrots. 2. Cut them into pieces by dicing them. 3. Place the pieces in a sauce-pan. 4. Set over the fire and cover with boiling water. 5. Cook until the pieces are soft at the centre when pierced with a fork. 6. Serve in a hot vegetable dish. After being thoroughly explained, these directions are placed in a note-book, for the guidance of the pupil in her home practice. In some cases, the directions are placed on properly punched cards, so that at the end of the year every pupil will have a collection of useful recipes and plans, each one of which she understands and has worked out. In many lessons of this type demonstrations may be given by the teacher and, if the food cannot be cooked on the school stove, it may be taken home to be cooked by one of the pupils. Lessons given according to this method, by which the theory is given in school and the practice acquired at home, need not be restricted to cookery. Any of the lessons prescribed in the curriculum for Form III, Junior, may be treated in the same way. Lessons on the daily care of a bed-room, weekly sweeping, care and cleaning of metals, washing dishes, washing clothes, ironing a blouse and, in fact, on all subjects pertaining to the general care and management of the home, may be given in this way. Each lesson should conclude with a carefully prepared black-board summary, which should be neatly copied into the note-books, to be periodically examined by the teacher. The black-board work of many teachers leaves much to be desired, and time spent in improving this will be well repaid. Examples of summaries of the kind referred to are to be found in the Ontario Teachers' Manual on _Household Management_. These instructions may be type-written or hectographed by the teacher and given to the pupils, thus saving the time spent in note-taking. SECOND METHOD The second of the plans referred to is a modification of what is known as the "Crete" plan of Household Science, so called from the name of the place in Nebraska, U.S.A., where it was first put into operation. By this plan, definite instruction is given in the home kitchens of certain women in the district, under the supervision of the educational authorities. It was adopted, at first, in connection with the high schools of the small towns in that State but, with certain modifications, it is suitable to our rural school conditions. In every community there are women who are known to be skilful in certain lines of cookery, and the plan makes use of such women for giving the required instruction. They become actually a part of the staff of the school, giving instruction in Household Science, and using the resources of their households as an integral part of the school equipment. In order to put this plan into operation, a meeting of women interested in the school should be called and if, after the plan has been laid before them and fully discussed, enough women are willing to open their homes and act as instructors, then it is safe to proceed. The subjects should be divided, and a scheme somewhat as follows may be arranged: Mrs. A. bread and biscuits Mrs. B. pies and cakes Mrs. C. canning and preserving Mrs. D. gems and corn bread Mrs. E. desserts and salads Mrs. F. cookies and doughnuts Mrs. G. vegetables. Six has been found a convenient number for a class, though ten is better, if the homes can accommodate that number. Half-past three is a good time for the classes to meet, as they then may be concluded by five o'clock, thus leaving the housewife free to prepare her evening meal. The day of the week should be chosen to suit the convenience of the instructor. The classes may meet once a week. Arriving at the home of the instructor at half-past three, the pupils are seated in the most convenient room, and the lesson is given. During this talk the pupils are given not only the recipe, but details as to materials, the preparation thereof, the degree of heat required, the common causes of failure and, in fact, everything that in the mind of a practical cook would be helpful to the class. Notes are taken, and afterwards properly written out and examined by the teacher of the school. The instructors prepare the food for cooking, and sometimes, as in the case of rolls and so on, they cook the food in the presence of the pupils. When white bread is to be baked, the pupils are asked to call, a few minutes after school, at the home of the instructor, to watch the first step--setting the sponge--and again the next morning before school to see the next step--mixing the bread--and again, about half-past eleven or twelve, to see the bread ready for the oven and, finally, on the way back to school, to see the result--a fine loaf of well-cooked bread. The pupils try the recipe carefully in their own homes, not varying its terms until they are able to make the dish successfully. When they can do this, they are free to experiment with modifications, and there should be no objection to receiving help from any source; in fact, it is a good thing for the daughter to get her mother to criticize her and offer suggestions in the many little details familiar to every housekeeper, but which cannot always be given by an instructor in one lesson. By this method the pupils learn in their own homes and handle real cooking utensils on a real stove heated by the usual fire of that home. If it is a good thing--and no one doubts it--to learn Household Science in a school where everything that invention and skill can provide for the pupils is readily at hand, is it not worth while to enter the field of actual life and, with cruder implements, win a fair degree of success? At the end of five or six months, after the pupils have had an opportunity to become skilful in making some of the dishes which have been taught, it may be well to have an exhibition of their work. Each pupil may, on Saturday afternoon, bring one or more of the dishes she has learned to prepare to the school-house, where they may be arranged on tables for the inspection of the judges. The dishes exhibited should be certified to as being the work of the pupil with no help or suggestion from anybody. Of course, work of this kind cannot be undertaken by the "suit case" teacher. The teacher who packs her bag on Friday at noon, carries it to school with her, and rushes to catch a train or car at four o'clock, not returning to the district until Monday morning, has no time for this kind of service. Occasionally the entire class may meet with their instructors in the school-room. An oil-stove and the necessary equipment may be obtained, and a demonstration may be given by one of the instructors. By this means much valuable instruction will be given that is not included in the regular course. At this time also many things may be discussed that pertain to the growth of the movement and the general well-being of the pupils. The plan is flexible and may be modified easily to suit different localities. It calls for no outlay on the part of the school trustees; nor are the instructors necessarily put to any expense, as the articles prepared in giving the lessons may be used in their own homes. By the adoption of one of the plans outlined, or such modifications of them as the peculiar requirements of the district may demand, every rural school may do something, not only toward giving a real knowledge of some phases of Household Science, but also toward developing the community spirit and arousing an interest in the school, which will benefit all concerned. THE FIRELESS COOKER At the present time there is urgent need for thrift and economy in all that pertains to the management of the household--particularly in food and fuel. In the average home much fuel could be saved by the proper use of what is known as the fireless cooker. The scientific principle applied has long been known and is, briefly, as follows: If a hot body is protected by a suitable covering, the heat in it will be retained for a long time, instead of being lost by radiation or conduction. This is why a cosy is placed over a tea-pot. In using a fireless cooker, the food is first heated on the stove until the cooking has begun, and then it is placed in the fireless cooker--a tight receptacle in which the food is completely surrounded by some insulating substance to prevent the rapid escape of the heat, which in this way is retained in the food in sufficient quantity to complete the cooking. Sometimes, when a higher cooking temperature is desired, an additional source of heat, in the form of a hot soapstone or brick or an iron plate such as a stove lid, is put into the cooker with the food. The same principle is also employed in cookery in other ways. For example, in camp life beans are often baked by burying the pots overnight in hot stones and ashes, the whole being covered with earth; and in the "clam bakes" on the Atlantic Coast, the damp seaweed spread over the embers on the clams prevents the escape of the heat during cooking. The peasants in some parts of Europe are said to begin the cooking of their dinners and then to put them into hay boxes or between feather beds, so that the cooking may be completed while the family is absent in the fields. The chief advantages in the use of the fireless cooker are these: 1. It saves fuel, especially where gas, oil, or electric stoves are used. Where coal or wood is the fuel, the fire in the range is often kept up most of the day, and the saving of fuel is not so great. In summer, or when the kitchen fire is not needed for heating purposes, the dinner can be started in the stove early in the morning, and then placed in the fireless cooker, the fire in the range being allowed to go out. During the hot weather, the use of a kerosene or other liquid-fuel stove and a fireless cooker is a great convenience, since it not only accomplishes a saving in fuel, but helps to keep the kitchen cooler. The saving in fuel resulting from the use of a fireless cooker is greatest in the preparation of foods such as stews, which require long and slow cooking. 2. It saves time. Foods cooked in this way do not require watching, and may be left, without danger from fires or of over-cooking, while other duties are being performed or the family is away from home. 3. It conserves the flavour of the food and makes it easier to utilize the cheaper cuts of meat which, although not having so fine a texture or flavour, are fully as nutritious, pound for pound, as the more expensive cuts. Long cooking at a relatively low temperature, such as is given to foods in the fireless cooker, improves the flavour and texture of these tougher cuts of meat. Most people do not cook cereals long enough. By this method, the cereal may be prepared at night, cooked on the stove for about fifteen minutes, and then put in the fireless cooker. In the morning it will be cooked and ready to be served. The fireless cooker may be used to advantage in preparing the following: soups; pot roasts; beef stew; Irish stew; lamb stew; corned beef and cabbage; boiled ham; baked beans; chicken fricassee; vegetables, such as turnips, carrots, parsnips, beets; dried vegetables, such as peas and beans; and dried fruits, such as peaches, apples, apricots, and prunes; cereals; and puddings. The fireless cookers described in the following pages are not experiments. They have all been tested and found to be most practical. DIRECTIONS FOR FIRELESS COOKER--NO. I While there are many good fireless cookers on the market which cost from five to twenty-two dollars, according to size and make, it is possible to construct a home-made cooker which will give very satisfactory results and will be considerably cheaper than one which is purchased in the shops. Materials required: A box or some other outside container; some good insulating or packing material; an inside container for the kettle, or a lining for the nest in which the kettle is placed; a kettle for holding the food; and a cushion, or pad, of insulating material, to cover the top of the kettle. THE OUTSIDE CONTAINER For the outside container a tightly built wooden box, such as that shown in Figure 39, is satisfactory. The walls should be thick and of some non-conducting material. An old trunk, a small barrel, or a large butter or lard firkin or tin will serve the purpose. Another possibility is a galvanized iron bucket with a closely fitting cover (this has the advantage of being fire-proof). A shoe box 15 by 15 by 28 inches is convenient in size, since it may be divided into two compartments. It should have a hinged cover and, at the front, a hook and staple, or some other device to hold down the cover tightly; an ordinary clamp window fastener answers this purpose very well. The size of the container, which depends upon the size of the kettle used, should be large enough to allow for at least four inches of packing material all round the nest in which the kettle is placed. [Illustration: _Fig._ 39.--Completed fireless cooker] THE INSULATING MATERIAL For packing or insulating material a variety of substances may be used. Asbestos and mineral wool are the best, and have the additional advantage that they cannot burn. Ground cork (used in packing Malaga grapes), hay, excelsior, Spanish moss, wool, and crumpled paper may also be used satisfactorily. Of these materials crumpled paper is probably the best, as it is clean and odourless and, if properly packed, will hold the heat better than the others. It is wise to line the box with one thickness of heavy paper or with several thicknesses of newspaper, to make it as air-tight as possible. Asbestos sheeting may be used instead. To pack the container with paper, crush single sheets of newspaper between the hands and pack a layer at least four inches deep over the bottom of the outside container, pounding it in with a heavy stick of wood. Place the inside container for the cooking kettle or the lining for the inside of the nest in the centre of this layer, and pack more crushed paper about it as solidly as possible. The method of packing with paper is shown in Figure 40. If other material is used it should be packed in a similar way. Where an extra source of heat is to be used, it is much safer to use some non-inflammable material such as asbestos or mineral wool. A cheap substitute and one which is easily obtained are the small cinders sifted from coal ashes, preferably those from soft coal. However, the cinders from hard coal burned in the kitchen range will do. If a fire-proof packing material is not used, a heavy pad of asbestos should be placed at the bottom of the metal lining, and a sheet or two of this paper should be placed between the lining of the nest and the packing material. Whatever is used should come to the top of the inside container, and the box should be filled to within about four inches of the top. [Illustration: _Fig._ 40.--Fireless cooker, showing method of packing with paper] THE INSIDE CONTAINER The inside container for the cooking kettle or the lining for the nest in which it is to be placed should be cylindrical in shape, should be deep enough to hold the cooking kettle and stone, if one is used, and should fit as snugly as possible to the cooking kettle, but at the same time should allow the latter to be moved in and out freely. For this purpose a galvanized iron or other metal bucket may be used, or, better still, a tinsmith may make a lining of galvanized iron or zinc which can be provided with a rim to cover the packing material, as shown in Figure 41. In case no hot stone or plate is to be used, the lining may be made of strong cardboard. [Illustration: _Fig._ 41.--Metal lining with rim] THE KETTLE The kettle to be used for cooking should be durable and free from seams or crevices which are hard to clean. It should have perpendicular sides, and the cover should be as flat as possible and be provided with a deep lid fitting well down into the kettle, in order to retain the steam. A kettle holding about six quarts is a convenient size for general use. Tinned iron kettles should not be used in a fireless cooker, for, although cheap, they are very apt to rust from the confined moisture. Enamelware kettles are satisfactory. EXTRA SOURCE OF HEAT Fireless cookers are adapted to a much wider range of cooking if they are provided with an extra source of heat in the form of a soapstone, brick, or an iron plate which is heated and placed underneath the cooking kettle. This introduces a possible danger from fire, in case the hot stove plate should come into direct contact with inflammable packing material such as excelsior or paper. To avoid this danger, a metal lining must be provided for the nest in which the cooking vessels and stone are to be placed. [Illustration: _Fig._ 42.--Tightly fitting lid] COVERING PAD A cushion, or pad, must be provided, to fill completely the space between the top of the packing material and the cover of the box after the kettle is in place. This should be made of some heavy goods, such as denim, and stuffed with cotton, crumpled paper, or excelsior. Hay may be used, but it will be found more or less odorous. Figure 43 shows the vertical cross-section of a home-made fireless cooker. [Illustration: _Fig._ 43.--Vertical cross-section of fireless cooker. A. Outside container; B. packing or insulating material; C. metal lining of nest; D. cooking kettle; E. soapstone plate, or other source of heat; F. pad of excelsior for covering top; G. hinged cover of outside container.] DIRECTIONS FOR FIRELESS COOKER--NO. II (Single Cooker) Materials required: Galvanized iron can, No. 3, with a cover; some sawdust; a covered agate pail (to be used as a cooking pail); and two yards of denim; any old linen, cotton, or woollen material may be used instead of denim. METHOD OF MAKING Place loose sawdust in the bottom of the can to a depth of about three inches. Measure the depth of the cooking pail. Turn a fold two inches greater than this depth the entire length of the denim or other material and make a long bag. Lay the bag flat on the table and fill it with an even layer of sawdust, so that when completed it will still be half an inch wider than the depth of the pail. Roll the bag around the cooking pail, so that a smooth, firm nest is formed when the bag is placed upright in the can on the top of the sawdust. From the remaining denim or other material make a round, flat bag (the material will have to be pieced for this). Fill this bag with sawdust and use it on top of the cooking pail. The bags must be made and fitted into the can in such a way that there will be no open spaces whatever between the sides of the cooking pail and the can, or between the top of the cooking pail and the cover of the can, through which the heat might escape. DIRECTIONS FOR FIRELESS COOKER--NO. III (Double Cooker) Materials required: One long box and two square boxes; the long box must be large enough to hold the other two and still leave two inches of space all around them; five and one-quarter yards of sheet asbestos one yard wide; two covered agate pails to be used as cooking pails; and about one yard of denim or other material. METHOD OF MAKING Line the bottoms and sides of all three boxes with sheet asbestos. In the bottom of the long box lay newspapers flat to a depth of about half an inch. Put two inches of sawdust on top of this layer of newspapers. Place the two square boxes inside the long one, leaving at least two inches of space between them. Fill all the spaces between the boxes with sawdust. Tack strips of denim or other material so that they will cover all the spaces that are filled with sawdust. The outside box must have a hinged lid, which must be fastened down with a clasp. Line the lid with the sheet asbestos to within half an inch of the edge. Put a layer of sawdust one inch deep on top of the asbestos. Tack a piece of denim or other material over the sawdust, still leaving the edge free and clear so that the cover may fit tightly; or the lid may be lined with asbestos and a denim pillow filled with sawdust made to fit tightly into the top of the box. USE OF THE FIRELESS COOKER IN THE PREPARATION OF LUNCHES The fireless cooker should prove very useful in the lunch equipment of rural schools, as its use should mean economy of fuel, utensils, time, and effort. It might be made by the pupils and would afford an excellent manual training exercise. Many of the dishes in the recipes given may be cooked in this way, but more time must be allowed for cooking, as there is a fall of temperature in placing the food in the cooker. When the vessel is being transferred from the stove to the cooker, the latter should be in a convenient position, and the transfer should be made, and the cushion placed in position, very quickly, so that the food will continue boiling. If the quantity of food is small, it should be placed in a smaller tightly covered pail, set on an inverted pan in the larger pail, and surrounded with boiling water. When there is an air space above the food in the cooking dish, there is greater loss of heat, as air gives off heat more readily than water. The following are examples of the foods that may be cooked in a Fireless Cooker: Apple sauce--Bring to boiling temperature and place in the cooker, leave two hours. Apple compote--Cut the apples in halves or quarters so that they need not be turned. Leave them in the cooker about three hours. Dried fruits--Soak overnight, bring to the boiling-point, and leave in the cooker at least three hours. Cream of wheat--Boil until thick, place in the cooker, leave overnight and, if necessary, re-heat in double boiler before using. Rolled oats--Boil five minutes, then place in the cooker. Leave at least three hours and longer if possible. Macaroni--Boil, then place in the cooker for two hours. Rice--Boil, then place in the cooker for one hour. All vegetables may be cooked in the cooker. They must be given time according to their age. A safe rule for all green vegetables is to allow two and a half times as long as if boiled on the stove. In the home, where the cooking is much greater in amount than it can be in the school, the saving in fuel, by the judicious use of the properly made fireless cooker, is correspondingly much larger. For example: in soups, from 2-1/2 to 3-1/2 hours use of fuel is made unnecessary; pot roast 2-1/2 hours; beef stew 2-1/2 hours; lamb stew 1-1/2 hours; corn beef and cabbage 2-1/2 hours; baked beans 5-1/2 to 7-1/2 hours; chicken fricassee 2 hours; dried peas, beans, and lentils 3 hours; dried fruits 3 hours; rice pudding 1-1/2 hours. SPECIAL GRANTS FOR RURAL AND VILLAGE SCHOOLS (From the Revised Regulations of the Department of Education, 1918) (1) The Board of a rural or a village school which is unable to comply with the provisions of the General Regulations, but which maintains classes in Manual Training as applied to the work of the Farm or in Household Science suitable to the requirements of the rural districts, which employs a teacher qualified as below, and which provides accommodations and equipment and a course of study approved by the Minister before the classes are established, will be paid by the Minister the sums provided in the scheme below, out of the grants appropriated therefor: said grants to be expended on the accommodations, equipment, and supplies for Manual Training and Household Science. In no year, however, will the Departmental grants exceed the total expenditure of the Board for these classes. (2) On the report of the Inspector of Manual Training and Household Science that the organization and the teaching of the classes in Manual Training or Household Science maintained as provided above are satisfactory, an annual grant will be paid by the Minister out of the Grant appropriated according to the following scheme: (_a_) (i) When the teacher holds a Second Class certificate but is not specially certificated in Manual Training or Household Science-- Initial Grant to board, $40; to teacher, $15. Subsequent Grant: to board, $20; to teacher, $15. (ii) When the teacher holds a Second Class certificate and has satisfactorily completed the work of one Summer Course in Manual Training or Household Science, provided by the Department, and undertakes to complete Part II the following year, or receives permission from the Minister to postpone said part-- Initial Grant: to board, $40: to teacher, $20. Subsequent Grant: to board, $20: to teacher, $20. (_b_) (i) When the teacher holds a Second Class certificate and in addition the Elementary certificate in Manual Training or Household Science-- Initial Grant: to board, $75; to teacher, $40. Subsequent Grant: to board, $30; to teacher, $40. (ii) When the teacher holds a Second Class certificate and in addition the Ordinary certificate in Manual Training or Household Science-- Initial Grant: to board, $75; to teacher, $50. Subsequent Grant: to board, $30; to teacher, $50. (_c_) When a school taking up Household Science provides at least one hot dish for the pupils staying to lunch from November 1st to March 31st, the above grants to the teacher of Household Science will be increased $10. 
26032	----	THANKSGIVING MENUS AND RECIPES AMERICAN COOKERY FORMERLY THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE OF·CULINARY·SCIENCE AND DOMESTIC·ECONOMICS NOVEMBER, 1921 VOL. XXVI No. 4 [Illustration] [Illustration: _Painted by Edw. V. Brewer for Cream of Wheat Co._ _Copyright by Cream of Wheat Co._ HIS BODYGUARD] Do You Realize That Success in Baking Depends Upon The Leavener? In reality, if the baking powder is not PURE and PERFECT in its leavening qualities, food will be spoiled in spite of skill and care. RUMFORD THE WHOLESOME BAKING POWDER leavens just right. RUMFORD makes the dough of a fine, even texture. It brings out in the biscuits, muffins, cakes or dumplings the natural, delicious flavor of the ingredients. RUMFORD contains the phosphate necessary to the building of the bodily tissues, so essential to children. [Illustration] Many helpful suggestions are contained in Janet McKenzie Hill's famous book "The Rumford Way of Cookery and Household Economy"-- sent free. RUMFORD COMPANY Dept. 19 Providence, R. I. [Illustration] Buy Advertised Goods--Do not accept substitutes AMERICAN COOKERY =Vol. XXVI= =NOVEMBER, 1921= =No. 4= =CONTENTS FOR NOVEMBER= PAGE WINDOWS AND THEIR FITMENTS. Ill. Mary Ann Wheelwright 251 THE TINY HOUSE. Ill. Ruth Merton 255 YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO, JIMMIE Eva J. DeMarsh 258 SOMEBODY'S CAT Ida R. Fargo 260 HOMING-IT IN AN APARTMENT Ernest L. Thurston 263 TO EXPRESS PERSONALITY Dana Girrioer 265 EDITORIALS 270 SEASONABLE-AND-TESTED RECIPES (Illustrated with halftone engravings of prepared dishes) Janet M. Hill and Mary D. Chambers 273 MENUS FOR WEEK IN NOVEMBER 282 MENUS FOR THANKSGIVING DINNERS 283 CONCERNING BREAKFASTS Alice E. Whitaker 284 SOME RECIPES FOR PREPARING POULTRY Kurt Heppe 286 POLLY'S THANKSGIVING PARTY Ella Shannon Bowles 290 HOME IDEAS AND ECONOMIES:--Vegetable Tarts and Pies--New Ways of Using Milk--Old New England Sweetmeats 292 QUERIES AND ANSWERS 295 THE SILVER LINING 310 =$1.50 A YEAR= =Published Ten Times a Year= =15c A Copy= Foreign postage 40c additional Entered at Boston post-office as second-class matter Copyright 1921, by =THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO.= =Pope Bldg., 221 Columbus Ave., Boston 17, Mass.= Please Renew on Receipt of Colored Blank Enclosed for that Purpose * * * * * [Illustration: _"When it rains--it pours"_] _Discover it for yourself_ To read about the virtues of Morton Salt isn't half so pleasant as finding them out for yourself. It certainly gives you a sense of security and content to find that Morton's won't stick or cake in the package when you want it; that it pours in any weather--always ready; always convenient. You'll like its distinct bracing flavor too. Better keep a couple of packages always handy. MORTON SALT COMPANY, CHICAGO _"The Salt of the Earth"_ [Illustration] * * * * * Buy advertised Goods--Do not accept substitutes =INDEX FOR NOVEMBER= PAGE Concerning Breakfasts 284 Editorials 270 Home Ideas and Economies 292 Homing-It in an Apartment 263 Menus 282, 283 Polly's Thanksgiving Party 290 Silver Lining, The 310 Some Recipes for Preparing Poultry 286 Somebody's Cat 260 Tiny House, The 255 To Express Personality 265 Windows and Their Fitments 251 You're not Supposed to, Jimmie 258 =SEASONABLE-AND-TESTED RECIPES= Beef, Rib Roast of, with Yorkshire Pudding. Ill. 277 Boudin Blanc 281 Bread, Stirred Brown 280 Brother Jonathan 275 Cake, Pyramid Birthday 280 Cake, Thanksgiving Corn. Ill. 277 Chicken, Guinea. Ill. 276 Cookies, Pilgrim. Ill. 279 Cucumbers and Tomatoes, Sautéed 281 Cutlets, Marinated 276 Fanchonettes, Pumpkin. Ill. 279 Frappé, Sweet Cider. Ill. 278 Fruit, Suprême 299 Garnish for Roast Turkey 274 Jelly, Apple Mint, for Roast Lamb 276 Pancakes, Swedish, with Aigre-Doux Sauce 280 Parsnips, Dry Deviled 278 Pie, Fig-and-Cranberry 278 Potage Parmentier 273 Pudding, King's, with Apple Sauce 278 Pudding, Thanksgiving 277 Pudding, Yorkshire 277 Punch, Coffee Fruit 278 Purée, Oyster-and-Onion 274 Salad, New England. Ill. 275 Salmon à la Creole 275 Sauce, Aigre-Doux 280 Sausages, Potato-and-Peanut 273 Steak, Skirt, with Raisin Sauce 281 Stuffing for Roast Turkey 274 Succotash, Plymouth. Ill. 275 Tart, Cranberry, with Cranberry Filling. Ill. 279 Turkey, Roast. Ill. 274 =QUERIES AND ANSWERS= Cake Baking, Temperature for 298 Chicken, To Roast 295 Corn and Potatoes, To boil 295 Fish, To broil 298 Gingerbread, Soft 298 Ice Cream, Classes of 300 Icing, Caramel 295 Pie, Deep-Dish Apple 298 Pies, Lemon, Why Watery 296 Pimientoes, Canned 300 Pineapple, Spiced 295 Potatoes, Crisp Fried 296 Sauce, Cream 298 Sauce, Tartare 296 Table Service, Instructions on 296 * * * * * We want representatives everywhere to take subscriptions for AMERICAN COOKERY. We have an attractive proposition to make those who will canvass their town; also to those who will secure a few names among their friends and acquaintances. Write us today. AMERICAN COOKERY - BOSTON, MASS. Buy advertised Goods--Do not accept substitutes Are You Using this Latest Edition of America's Leading Cook Book? [Illustration] =THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL COOK BOOK= =By FANNIE MERRITT FARMER= In addition to its fund of general information, this latest edition contains 2,117 recipes, all of which have been tested at Miss Farmer's Boston Cooking School, together with additional chapters on the Cold-Pack Method of Canning, on the Drying of Fruits and Vegetables, and on Food Values. This volume also contains the correct proportions of food, tables of measurements and weights, time-tables for cooking, menus, hints to young housekeepers. =_"Good Housekeeping" Magazine says:_= "'The Boston Cooking-School Cook Book' is one of the volumes to which good housewives pin their faith on account of its accuracy, its economy, its clear, concise teachings, and its vast number of new recipes." =656 Pages= =122 Illustrations= =$2.50 net= * * * * * =TABLE SERVICE= =_By Lucy G. Allen_= A clear, concise and yet comprehensive exposition of the waitress' duties. Detailed directions on the duties of the waitress, including care of dining room, and of the dishes, silver and brass, the removal of stains, directions for laying the table, etc. =Fully illustrated. $1.75 net= =COOKING FOR TWO= =_By Janet McKenzie Hill_= "'Cooking for Two' is exactly what it purports to be--a handbook for young housekeepers. The bride who reads this book need have no fear of making mistakes, either in ordering or cooking food supplies."--_Woman's Home Companion._ =With 150 illustrations. $2.25 net= =JUST PUBLISHED= =FISH COOKERY= =_By Evelene Spencer and John N. Cobb_= This new volume offers six hundred recipes for the preparation of fish, shellfish, and other aquatic animals, and there are recipes for fish broiled, baked, fried and boiled; for fish stews and chowders, purées and broths and soup stocks; for fish pickled and spiced, preserved and potted, made into fricassées, curries, chiopinos, fritters and croquettes; served in pies, in salads, scalloped, and in made-over dishes. In fact, every thinkable way of serving fish is herein described. =$2.00 net= =For Sale at all Booksellers or of the Publishers= =LITTLE, BROWN & COMPANY, 34 BEACON ST., BOSTON= =Books on Household Economics= THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE COMPANY presents the following as a list of representative works on household economies. Any of the books will be sent postpaid upon receipt of price. Special rates made to schools, clubs and persons wishing a number of books. Write for quotation on the list of books you wish. We carry a very large stock of these books. One order to us saves effort and express charges. Prices subject to change without notice. =A Guide to Laundry Work.= Chambers. $1.00 =Allen, The, Treatment of Diabetes.= Hill and Eckman 1.75 =American Cook Book.= Mrs. J. M. Hill 1.50 =American Meat Cutting Charts.= Beef, veal, pork, lamb--4 charts, mounted on cloth and rollers 10.00 =American Salad Book.= M. DeLoup 1.50 =Around the World Cook Book.= Barroll 2.50 =Art and Economy in Home Decorations.= Priestman 1.50 =Art of Home Candy-Making (with thermometer, dipping wire, etc.)= 3.75 =Art of Right Living.= Richards .50 =Bacteria, Yeasts and Molds in the Home.= H. W. Conn 1.48 =Bee Brand Manual of Cookery= .75 =Better Meals for Less Money.= Greene 1.35 =Blue Grass Cook Book.= Fox 2.00 =Book of Entrées.= Mrs Janet M. Hill 2.00 =Boston Cook Book.= Mary J. Lincoln 2.25 =Boston Cooking-School Cook Book.= Fannie M. Farmer 2.50 =Bread and Bread-Making.= Mrs. Rorer .75 =Breakfasts, Luncheons and Dinners.= Chambers 1.25 =Bright Ideas for Entertaining.= Linscott .90 =Business, The, of the Household.= Taber 2.50 =Cakes, Icings and Fillings.= Mrs. Rorer 1.00 =Cakes, Pastry and Dessert Dishes.= Janet M. Hill 2.00 =Candies and Bonbons.= Neil 1.50 =Candy Cook Book.= Alice Bradley 1.75 =Canning and Preserving.= Mrs. Rorer 1.00 =Canning, Preserving and Jelly Making.= Hill 1.75 =Canning, Preserving and Pickling.= Marion H. Neil 1.50 =Care and Feeding of Children.= L. E. Holt, M.D. 1.25 =Catering for Special Occasions.= Farmer 1.50 =Century Cook Book.= Mary Ronald 3.00 =Chafing-Dish Possibilities.= Farmer 1.50 =Chemistry in Daily Life.= Lassar-Cohn 2.25 =Chemistry of Cookery.= W. Mattieu Williams 2.25 =Chemistry of Cooking and Cleaning.= Richards and Elliot 1.00 =Chemistry of Familiar Things.= Sadtler 2.00 =Chemistry of Food and Nutrition.= Sherman 2.10 =Cleaning and Renovating.= E. G. Osman 1.20 =Clothing for Women.= L. I. Baldt 2.50 =Cook Book for Nurses.= Sarah C. Hill .90 =Cooking for Two.= Mrs. Janet M. Hill 2.25 =Cost of Cleanness.= Richards 1.00 =Cost of Food.= Richards 1.00 =Cost of Living.= Richards 1.00 =Cost of Shelter.= Richards 1.00 =Course in Household Arts.= Duff 1.30 =Dainties.= Mrs. Rorer 1.00 =Diet for the Sick.= Mrs. Rorer 2.00 =Diet in Relation to Age and Activity.= Thompson 1.00 =Dishes and Beverages of the Old South.= McCulloch-Williams 1.50 =Domestic Art in Women's Education.= Cooley 1.50 =Domestic Science in Elementary Schools.= Wilson 1.20 =Domestic Service.= Lucy M. Salmon 2.25 =Dust and Its Dangers.= Pruden 1.25 =Easy Entertaining.= Benton 1.50 =Economical Cookery.= Marion Harris Neil 2.00 =Elementary Home Economics.= Matthews 1.40 =Elements of the Theory and Practice of Cookery.= Williams and Fisher 1.40 =Encyclopaedia of Foods and Beverages.= 10.00 =Equipment for Teaching Domestic Science.= Kinne .80 =Etiquette of New York Today.= Learned 1.60 =Etiquette of Today.= Ordway 1.25 =European and American Cuisine.= Lemcke 4.00 =Every Day Menu Book.= Mrs. Rorer 1.50 =Every Woman's Canning Book.= Hughes .90 =Expert Waitress.= A. F. Springsteed 1.35 =Feeding the Family.= Rose 2.40 =Fireless Cook Book.= 1.75 =First Principles of Nursing.= Anne R. Manning 1.25 =Fish Cookery.= Spencer and Cobb 2.00 =Food and Cookery for the Sick and Convalescent.= Fannie M. Farmer 2.50 =Food and Feeding.= Sir Henry Thompson 2.00 =Food and Flavor.= Finck 3.00 =Foods and Household Management.= Kinne and Cooley 1.40 =Food and Nutrition.= Bevier and Ushir 1.00 =Food Products.= Sherman 2.40 =Food and Sanitation.= Forester and Wigley 1.40 =Food and the Principles of Dietetics.= Hutchinson 4.25 =Food for the Worker.= Stern and Spitz. 1.00 =Food for the Invalid and the Convalescent.= Gibbs .75 =Food Materials and Their Adulterations.= Richards 1.00 =Food Study.= Wellman 1.10 =Food Values.= Locke 2.00 =Foods and Their Adulterations.= Wiley 6.00 =Franco-American Cookery Book.= Déliée 5.00 =French Home Cooking.= Low 1.50 =Fuels of the Household.= Marian White .75 =Furnishing a Modest Home.= Daniels 1.25 =Furnishing the Home of Good Taste.= Throop 4.50 =Garments for Girls.= Schmit 1.50 =Golden Rule Cook Book (600 Recipes for Meatless Dishes).= Sharpe 2.50 =Handbook of Home Economics.= Flagg 0.90 =Handbook of Hospitality for Town and Country.= Florence H. Hall 1.75 =Handbook of Invalid Cooking.= Mary A. Boland 2.50 =Handbook on Sanitation.= G. M. Price, M.D. 1.50 =Healthful Farm House, The.= Dodd .60 =Home and Community Hygiene.= Broadhurst 2.50 =Home Candy Making.= Mrs. Rorer .75 =Home Economics.= Maria Parloa 2.00 =Home Economics Movement.= .75 =Home Furnishing.= Hunter 2.50 =Home Nursing.= Harrison 1.50 =Home Problems from a New Standpoint= 1.00 =Home Science Cook Book.= Anna Barrows and Mary J. Lincoln 1.25 =Hot Weather Dishes.= Mrs. Rorer .75 =House Furnishing and Decoration.= McClure and Eberlein 2.50 =House Sanitation.= Talbot .80 =Housewifery.= Balderston 2.50 =Household Bacteriology.= Buchanan 2.75 =Household Economics.= Helen Campbell 1.75 =Household Engineering.= Christine Frederick 2.00 =Household Physics.= Alfred M. Butler 1.50 =Household Textiles.= Gibbs 1.40 =Housekeeper's Handy Book.= Baxter 2.00 =How to Cook in Casserole Dishes.= Neil 1.50 =How to Cook for the Sick and Convalescent.= H. V. S. Sachse 2.00 =How to Feed Children.= Hogan 1.25 =How to Use a Chafing Dish.= Mrs. Rorer .75 =Human Foods.= Snyder 2.00 =Ice Cream, Water Ices, etc.= Rorer 1.00 =I Go a Marketing.= Sowle 1.75 =Institution Recipes.= Emma Smedley 3.00 =Interior Decorations.= Parsons 5.00 =International Cook Book.= Filippini 2.50 =Key to Simple Cookery.= Mrs. Rorer 1.25 =King's, Caroline, Cook Book= 2.00 =Kitchen Companion.= Parloa 2.50 =Kitchenette Cookery.= Anna M. East 1.25 =Laboratory Handbook of Dietetics.= Rose 1.50 =Lessons in Cooking Through Preparation of Meals.= 2.00 =Lessons in Elementary Cooking.= Mary C. Jones 1.25 =Like Mother Used to Make.= Herrick 1.35 =Luncheons.= Mary Ronald 2.00 A cook's picture book; 200 illustrations =Made-over Dishes.= Mrs. Rorer .75 =Many Ways for Cooking Eggs.= Mrs. Rorer .75 =Marketing and Housework Manual.= S. Agnes Donham 2.00 =Mrs. Allen's Cook Book.= Ida C. Bailey Allen 2.00 =More Recipes for Fifty.= Smith 2.00 =My Best 250 Recipes.= Mrs. Rorer 1.00 =New Book of Cookery=. A. Farmer 2.50 =New Hostess of Today.= Larned 1.75 =New Salads.= Mrs. Rorer 1.00 =Nursing, Its Principles and Practice.= Isabels and Robb 2.00 =Nutrition of a Household.= Brewster 2.00 =Nutrition of Man.= Chittenden 4.50 =Philadelphia Cook Book.= Mrs. Rorer 1.50 =Planning and Furnishing the House.= Quinn 1.35 =Practical Cooking and Dinner Giving.= Mrs. Mary F. Henderson 1.75 =Practical Cooking and Serving.= Mrs. Janet M. Hill 3.00 =Practical Dietetics.= Gilman Thompson 8.00 =Practical Dietetics with Reference to Diet in Disease.= Patte 2.25 =Practical Food Economy.= Alice Gitchell Kirk 1.35 =Practical Homemaking.= Kittredge 1.00 =Practical Points in Nursing.= Emily A. M. Stoney 2.00 =Principles of Chemistry Applied to the Household.= Rowley and Farrell 1.50 =Principles of Food Preparation.= Mary D. Chambers 1.25 =Principles of Human Nutrition.= Jordan 2.00 =Recipes and Menus for Fifty.= Frances Lowe Smith 2.00 =Rorer's (Mrs.) New Cook Book.= 2.50 =Salads, Sandwiches, and Chafing Dish Dainties.= Mrs. Janet M. Hill 2.00 =Sandwiches.= Mrs. Rorer .75 =Sanitation in Daily Life.= Richards .60 =School Feeding.= Bryant 1.75 =Selection and Preparation of Food.= Brevier and Meter .75 =Shelter and Clothing.= Kinne and Cooley 1.40 =Source, Chemistry and Use of Food Products.= Bailey 2.00 =Spending the Family Income.= Donham 1.75 =Story of Germ Life.= H. W. Conn 1.00 =Successful Canning.= Powell 2.50 =Sunday Night Suppers.= Herrick 1.35 =Table Service.= Allen 1.75 =Textiles.= Woolman and McGowan 2.60 =The Chinese Cook Book.= Shin Wong Chan 1.50 =The House in Good Taste.= Elsie de Wolfe 4.00 =The Housekeeper's Apple Book.= L. G. Mackay 1.25 =The New Housekeeping.= Christine Frederick 1.90 =The Party Book.= Fales and Northend 3.00 =The St. Francis Cook Book.= 5.00 =The Story of Textiles= 5.00 =The Up-to-Date Waitress.= Mrs. Janet M. Hill 1.75 =The Woman Who Spends.= Bertha J. Richardson 1.00 =Till the Doctor Comes and How to Help Him.= 1.00 =True Food Values.= Birge 1.25 =Vegetable Cookery and Meat Substitutes.= Mrs. Rorer 1.50 =Women and Economics.= Charlotte Perkins Stetson 1.50 Address All Orders: =THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO., Boston, Mass.= [Illustration: In Kitchen and Bathroom Old Dutch makes linoleum; tile; tubs and utensils bright like new. For general cleaning, it lightens your work; is efficient and economical] [Illustration: FRUIT SUPRÊME] =Fruit Suprême= Select choice, fresh fruit of all varieties obtainable. Slice, using care to remove all skins, stones, seeds, membranes, etc.; for example, each section of orange must be freed from the thin membranous skin in which it grows. Chill the prepared fruit, arrange in fruit cocktail glasses with maraschino syrup. A maraschino cherry is placed on the very top of each service. [Illustration: WOODEN SHUTTERS, ORNAMENTED, ARE SUITABLE FOR REMODELLED HOUSES] American Cookery VOL. XXVI NOVEMBER NO. 4 Windows and Their Fitments By Mary Ann Wheelwright Through the glamour of the Colonial we are forced to acknowledge the classic charm shown in late seventeenth and early eighteenth century window designs. Developed, as they were, by American carpenters who were stimulated by remembrance of their early impressions of English architecture received in the mother land, there is no precise or spiritless copy of English details; rather there is expressed a vitality that has been brought out by earnest effort to reproduce the spirit desired. Undoubtedly the lasting success of early American craftsmanship has been due to the perfect treatment of proportions, as related one to the other. That these are not imitations is proved by an occasional clumsiness which would be impossible, if they were exact copies of their more highly refined English prototypes. The grasp of the builder's mind is vividly revealed in the construction of these windows, for while blunders are often made, yet successes are much more frequent. They are evolved from remembered motives that have been unified and balanced, that they might accord with the exterior and be knitted successfully into the interior trim. Some of these windows still grace seventeenth century houses, and are found not only on old southern plantations, but all through New England, more especially along the sea coast. True products are they of Colonial craftsmanship, brought into existence by skilled artisans, who have performed their work so perfectly that today they are found unimpaired, striking a dominant note in accord with the architectural feeling of the period. There is no question but that windows such as these lend character to any house, provided, of course, that they coincide with the period. Doubtless the designing of modified Colonial houses is responsible, in part, for the present-day revival of interest, not solely in windows of the Colonial period, but also in that which immediately preceded and followed it. [Illustration: GROUP WINDOWS ON STAIRWAY] The first ornamental windows were of the casement type, copied from English cottage homes. Like those, they opened outward, and were designed with small panes, either diamond or square shaped. As they were in use long before glass was manufactured in this country, the Colonists were forced to import them direct from England. Many were sent ready to be inserted, with panes already leaded in place. Proof of this is afforded by examples still in existence. These often show strange patches or cutting. The arrangement of casements varies from single windows to groups of two or three, and they were occasionally supplemented by fixed transoms. Surely no phase of window architecture stands out more conspicuously in the evolution of our early designs than the casement with its tiny panes, ornamented with handwrought iron strap-hinges which either flared into arrow heads, rounded into knobs, or lengthened into points. That they were very popular is shown from the fact that they withstood the changes of fashion for over a century, not being abolished until about the year 1700. Little drapery is needed in casement windows where they are divided by mullions. The English draw curtain is admirable for this purpose. It can be made of casement cloth with narrow side curtains and valance of bright material. A charming combination was worked out in a summer cottage. The glass curtains were of black and white voile with tiny figures introduced. This was trimmed with a narrow black and white fringe, while the overdrapery had a black background patterned with old rose. [Illustration: GROUPED WINDOWS WITH SQUARE PANES, LACE GLASS CURTAINS AND CRETONNE OVER CURTAINS] In the field of architectural progress, more especially during the last few years, there have arisen vast possibilities for the development of odd windows. These, if properly placed, showing correct grouping, are artistic, not only from the outside, but from the inside as well. The artistic woman, realizing the value of color, will fill a bright china bowl with glowing blossoms and place it in the center of a wide window sill, where the sun, playing across them, will carry their cheerful color throughout the room. She also trains vines to meander over the window pane, working out a delicate tracery that is most effective, suspending baskets of ferns from the upper casement, that she may break the length of her Colonial window. Thus through many artifices she causes her simple room to bloom and blossom like a rose. [Illustration: FOR FRENCH DOORS, USE MUSLIN WITH SILK-LINED OVERHANG] The progress made in window architecture is more apparent as we study the early types. Then small attention was paid to details, the windows placed with little thought of artistic grouping. Their only object to light the room, often they stood like soldiers on parade, in a straight row, lining the front of the house. Out of the past has come a vast array of period windows, each one of which is of interest. They display an unmistakable relationship to one another, for while we acknowledge that they differ in detail and ornamentation, yet do they invariably show in their conception some underlying unity. There is no more fascinating study than to take each one separately and carefully analyze its every detail, for thus only can we recognize and appreciate the links which connect them with the early American types. We happen upon them not only in the modified Colonial structures, but in houses in every period of architecture. It may be only a fragment, possibly a choice bit of carving; or it may be a window composed in the old-fashioned manner of from nine to thirty panes, introduced in Colonial days for the sake of avoiding the glass tax levied upon them if over a certain size. A charming example of a reproduction of one of these thirty-paned windows may be seen in a rough plaster house built in Salem, after the great fire. The suggestion was taken from an old historic house in a fine state of preservation in Boxford, Mass. The first American homes derived their plans and their finish from medieval English tradition. They were forced to utilize such materials as they were able to obtain, and step by step they bettered the construction and ornamentation of their homes. As increasing means and added material allowed, they planned and executed more elaborately, not only in size and finish, but in the adding of window casings, caps, and shutters. The acme of Colonial architecture was reached with the development of the large square houses with exquisitely designed entrances and porticos. These often showed recessed and arched windows, also those of the Palladian type. At the Lindens, Danvers, Mass., a memory-haunted mansion, may be seen one of the finest examples of these recessed windows. This famous dwelling, the work of an English architect, who built it in about 1770, is linked with American history through its use by General Gage as his headquarters during the Revolution. The recessed windows that are found here reveal delicate mouldings in the classic bead and filet design, and are surmounted by an elaborate moulded cornice, which lends great dignity to the room. This is supported by delicate pilasters and balanced by the swelling base shown below the window seats. Such a window as this is no mere incident, or cut in the wall; on the contrary, it is structural treatment of woodwork. Another feature of pronounced interest may be noted on the stair landing, where a charming Palladian window overlooks the old-fashioned box-bordered garden that has been laid out at the rear. We have dwelt, perhaps, too much on the old Colonial types, neglecting those of the present day, but it has been through a feeling that with an intimate knowledge of their designs we shall be better able to appreciate the products of our own age, whose creators drew their inspiration from the past. A modern treatment of windows appears in our illustration. [Illustration: 75 BEACON STREET, BOSTON] [Illustration: THATCHED-STYLE COTTAGE FOR AMERICAN SUBURBS] The Tiny House By Ruth Merton (_Concluded from October_) If, some fine day, all housewives awoke to the fact that most of the trouble in the world originates in the kitchen, there would shortly be a little more interest in kitchen problems and not so much distaste for and neglect of this important part of the house. Of course, women will cry out that we have never in our lives been so intent on just that one subject, kitchens, as we are today. I admit that there is a good deal of talk going on which might lead one to believe that vacuum cleaners and electric-washing machines, etc., are to bring about the millennium for housekeepers; and there is also a good work going forward to make of housework a real profession. But, until in the average home there comes the feeling that the kitchen--the room itself--is just as much an expression of the family life and aims and ideals as the living room or any other room, we shall be only beating about the bush in our endeavor to find a remedy for some of our perplexing troubles. Nowadays, women who are doing much work out in the big world--the so-called "enfranchised" women--are many of them proving that they find housework no detriment to their careers and some even admit that they enjoy it. But so far most of them have standardized their work and systematized it, with the mere idea of doing what they have to do "efficiently" and well, with the least expenditure of time and energy. And they have more than succeeded in proving the "drudgery" plea unfounded. Now, however, we need something more. We need to make housework attractive; in other words, to put charm in the kitchen. There is one very simple way of doing this, that is to make kitchens good to look at, and inviting as a place to stay and work. For the professional, scientifically inclined houseworker, the most beautiful kitchen may be the white porcelain one, with cold, snowy cleanliness suggesting sterilized utensils and carefully measured food calories. But to the woman whose cooking and dishwashing are just more or less pleasant incidents in a pleasant round of home and social duties, the kitchen must suggest another kind of beauty--not necessarily a beauty which harbors germs, nor makes the work less conveniently done, but a beauty of kindly associations with furniture and arrangements. Who could grow fond of a white-tiled floor or a porcelain sink as they exist in so many modern kitchens! And as for the bulgy and top-heavy cook stoves, badly proportioned refrigerators, and kitchen cabinets--well, we should have to like cooking _very_ well indeed before we could feel any pleasure in the mere presence of these necessary but unnecessarily ugly accompaniments to our work. We have come to think of cleanliness as not only next to godliness, but as something which takes the place of beauty--_is_ beauty. This attitude is laziness on our part, for we need sacrifice nothing to utility and convenience, yet may still contrive our kitchen furniture so that it, also, pleases the senses. With a little conscientious reflection on the subject we may make kitchens which have all the charm of the old, combined with all the convenience of the new; and woman will have found a place to reconcile her old and new selves, the housewife and the suffragist, the mother-by-the-fireside and the participator in public affairs. The family will have found a new-old place of reunion--the kitchen! Granted then that our tiny house has a kitchen-with-charm, and an "other room," the rest of the available space may be divided into the requisite number of bed and living rooms, according to the needs of the family. [Illustration: KITCHEN FOR THATCHED-STYLE COTTAGE] There is only one other very important thing to look out for; that is the matter of closets. There is no rule for the number of closets which will make the tiny house livable, but I should say, the more the merrier. If there is ever question of sacrificing a small room and gaining a large closet, by all means do it, for absolute neatness is the saving grace of small quarters, and storage places are essential, if one does not wish to live in a vortex of yesterday's and tomorrow's affairs with no room to concentrate on the present. [Illustration: FIRST-FLOOR PLAN OF THATCHED COTTAGE] Inside and outside the tiny house must conform to one law--elimination of non-essentials; and the person who has a clear idea of his individual needs and has also the strength of will to limit his needs to his circumstances, will find in his tiny house a satisfaction more than compensating for any sacrifices he may have made. No one doubts that it _is_ a sacrifice to give up a lesser pleasure even to gain the "summum bonum" and that it _does_ take will power to keep oneself from weakly saying in the face of temptation, "Oh, well! what does it matter! My little house would perhaps be better without that, but I have grown accustomed to it, let it stay!" Such weakness is fatal in a tiny house. But how much more fatal in a tiny garden! Oh! the waste lands which lie beneath the sun trying to call themselves gardens! Oh! the pitiful little plots, unfenced, unused, entirely misunderstood by people who stick houses in the middle of them and call them "gardens"! No amount of good grass seed, or expensive planting, or well-cared-for flowers and lawns will ever make the average suburban lot anything but a "lot," and most of them might as well, or _better_, be rough, uncultivated fields for all the relation they bear to the houses upon them or the use they were intended for. It is to be supposed that when a man gives up the comforts of town apartments and hies him to the country, it is the garden, the outdoors, which lures him. Why is it, then, that he seems to take particular pains to arrange his garden so that it is about as much his own as Central Park is? It might give the average man a great deal of pleasure to be able to say to all the passersby on the Mall, "This little bit of the Park belongs to me! I cut that grass, I weed those flower beds in the evening when I come home from the office; and every Saturday afternoon I take the hose and thoroughly soak that bit of lawn there, you may see me at it any week in the summer." But then, we are not dealing with the fictitious average man, and we firmly believe that many "commuters" wonder deep down in their hearts why it is they get from their gardens so little of the pleasure they anticipated when they came to live out of the city. Any one who has traveled abroad, has admired and perhaps coveted the gardens of England, France, and Italy. Their charm is undeniable, and thought to be too elusive for reproduction on American soil without the aid of landscape gardeners and a fair-sized fortune. Just why we, as a nation, are beset by the idea of reproducing instead of originating beautiful gardens is a question apart from this discussion. But as soon as we try to develop, to their fullest extent, the advantages of our climate, and soil, in combination with our daily life as a people, we shall produce gardens which will equal, without necessarily resembling, those of other countries. In every case we must, however, follow the same procedure which every successful garden is built upon, whether it be in Mesopotamia or in Long Island City. That is, we must study the place, the people, and the circumstances. The most general fault in American gardens is their lack of privacy. No one claims that the high walls of Italy and France or the impenetrable hedges of England would invariably suit the climate here. But there are many ways to obtain seclusion without in any way depriving us of much-needed air in summer and sun in winter. One way is by placing the house rationally upon its lot. Our custom has been to invariably build so that we had a "front yard," "back yard," and two side yards, all equally important, equally uninteresting, unbeautiful and useless. Of course, we have the porch which in a way takes the place of the outdoor living room, always so attractive in foreign gardens. And recently some laudable efforts are being made to incorporate the porch into the house, where it belongs, as a real American institution, instead of leaving it disconsolately clinging to the outside and bearing no resemblance to the house either in shape or detail. But after all, a porch is a porch, and a garden is a garden, and one does not take the place of the other. Especially is this true of the tiny property. If you have only ten feet of ground to spare outside your tiny house, plan it so that every foot contributes to your joy at being in the country. Arrange it so that on a warm summer evening when the porch seems a bit close and dark, you wander out into your garden and sit beneath the stars in quiet as profound as on the Desert of Sahara. And in the winter, let your garden provide a warm corner out of the wind, where on a bright Sunday morning you may sit and blink in the sun. Once you have got the desire for a room outdoors, a real garden, which is neither flower beds, nor lawns, nor hedges, nor trees, but a place for your comfort, with all these things contributing to its beauty, you will know as by divine inspiration where to put each flower and bush and path. Your planting will be no longer a problem for landscape architects, but a pleasant occupation for yourself and family. So then will your successful tiny house stand forth in its real garden, an object of pride to the community and a tribute to one man who has refused to be the impossible average, and has dared to build and plant for his own needs. May he live forever and ever happy in his tiny house! [Illustration: FIRST-FLOOR PAN OF THATCHED COTTAGE] "You're Not Supposed To, Jimmie" By Eva J. DeMarsh "Huh!" exclaimed Jennie, "there comes Aunt Rachel! Wonder what she wants now? Last time it was--no, it wasn't--that was the time when Jimmie Upson and his wife were here. How scandalized Aunt Rachel looked! Said I'd ruin my husband, and a lot of such tommyrot. As though Jimmie and I couldn't afford a spread now and then! I didn't, and I won't, tell Aunt Rachel that it was a special party and a special occasion. Of course, I know Jimmie isn't a millionaire, but--it's none of Aunt Rachel's business, so there!" she finished defiantly. Aunt Rachel plodded blissfully up the walk. "Jennie'll be glad to see me, I know," she mused. "She's high-headed, but she knows a good thing when she sees it, and I help her a lot." Jennie received her aunt with cordiality, but not effusiveness. To be discourteous was something she could not be. Besides, she liked Aunt Rachel and pitied her idiosyncrasies. "Why can't she be as nice when she goes to people's houses as she is when she is at home?" she mused. "I love to go there, and everything is just perfect, but the minute she steps outside the door--well, we all know Aunt Rachel! And she doesn't go home early either. Jimmie'll be furious. She always calls him 'James' and asks after his health and--and everything. I do so want him to like her, but I'm afraid he never will. I do wish I could get her interested in something. I have it!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "The very thing!" Aunt Rachel looked up in surprise. "What's the matter, Jennie?" she inquired. "Oh, nothing much, Auntie! I was just thinking aloud." "Don't!" said Aunt Rachel. "It's a bad habit, Jennie--though I do do it myself, sometimes." "Sometimes!" Jennie turned away to hide her smile. Why, Aunt Rachel made a business of talking aloud! As luck would have it, the dinner went off to Aunt Rachel's satisfaction. It was good, but conservative. "Jennie is learning," thought the old lady to herself. "After I've been here a few times more, she'll get along all right." Aunt Rachel hadn't noticed that every idea Jennie has used was, strictly, either Jennie's own or her mother's. "How long does your aunt expect to stay?" asked Jimmie, casually, while Jennie was clearing the table. Aunt Rachel was in the kitchen. She prided herself on never being "a burden on any one." Doubtless, some of her friends would have preferred that she be. Most of us have a skeleton we do not wish to keep on exhibition. "Oh, I don't know, maybe a week or two," said Jennie, mischievously. "She hasn't told me yet." "Oh!" replied Jimmie, in a disappointed voice. "Business down town"? "Dinner at the Club"? No, he couldn't keep that up indefinitely. Besides, what did a man want of a home, if he wasn't going to live in it? Covertly, Jennie watched him. She knew every expression of his face. It amused her, but she was sorry, too. "Jimmie wants awfully to flunk--and dassent," was her mental comment. "Anything on for this evening, Jimmie?" inquired Jennie, sweetly, too sweetly, Jimmie thought. He had heard those dulcet tones before. "Yes--no!" stammered Jimmie. How he wished he had! However, as Jennie said no more, he dismissed the subject from his mind. She probably didn't really mean anything, anyway. When James Atherton reached home that evening, he found the house lighted from top to bottom. Beautifully dressed women were everywhere, and in their midst--Aunt Rachel, at her best! "Ladies," she exclaimed, and Jimmie paused to listen, "I am honored--more so than you can guess--at the distinction conferred upon me. This afternoon you have seen fit to make me one of your leaders in a most important movement for civic betterment--an honor never before accorded a woman in this city--and I need not assure you that you shall not regret your choice. As a member of the Civic Betterment Committee of Loudon, I shall do my duty." ("I bet she will!" commented Jimmie, _sotto voce_.) "Again I thank you!" went on Aunt Rachel. "There's a work for you and for me now to do, and--" she paused impressively, "we will do it." ("I'll bet on you every time, Auntie," commented Jimmie to himself.) "Jimmie Atherton, what in the world are you doing?" whispered an exasperated voice. "Hurry, Jimmie, hurry--do!" urged Jennie. "Dinner is almost ready to serve, and you haven't even made the first move to dress. Hurry, Jimmie, please!" And Jimmie did. He fairly sprinted into his clothes, appearing presently fully clad and good to look upon. "Bet you a nickel Jennie couldn't have done that," he reflected, complacently. "Women never can get a move on them, where clothes are concerned." That was the best evening Aunt Rachel had ever spent. She was the center of attraction; she had found a mission--not a desultory one, but one far-reaching in scope, so it seemed to her; and like a war-horse, she was after the charge. Jennie's plans went through without a hitch. Aunt Rachel became, not only a member of the Committee on Civic Betterment, but, as well, its head and, in due season, mayor of the little city itself. Under her active management, Loudon became noted as a model city of its size, one good to look upon and good to live in. Crime fled, or scurried to cover, and Aunt Rachel blossomed like a rose. One day when Jimmie came home something seemed to please him greatly. "What do you think, Jennie," he said, "Aunt Rachel is going to be married! Yes, she is! I've got it on the best of authority--the groom himself." "Who?" gasped Jennie. "Why, Jimmie, she just HATES men! She's always said they were only a necessary evil." "Yes, I know," smiled Jimmie, "that's what she used to say, but she'd never met Jacob Crowder then." "Jacob Crowder!" exclaimed Jennie. "Why, Jimmie, he's as rich as Croesus, and he's always hated women as much as Aunt Rachel has hated men!" "Yes," said Jimmie, "but that was before he met Aunt Rachel. He has been her righthand man for some time now, and they've seemed to hit it off pretty well. Guess they'll get along all right in double harness." "When the girls and I steered Aunt Rachel into politics," said Jennie, "little we thought where it would all end. I'm glad, glad, though! Aunt Rachel is really splendid, but I've always thought she was suffering from something. Now I know what--it's ingrowing ambition. She will have all she can do now to take care of her own home and we won't see her so often." "Oh, ho! So that's it?" smiled Jimmie. "Well, you girls, as has happened to many another would-be plotter before now, have found things have gotten rather out of your hands, haven't you?" Jennie shrugged her shoulders. "We can have the wedding here, can't we, Jimmie?" she asked, somewhat wistfully. Jimmie wondered if she had heard him. Perhaps--and then again, perhaps not. "I don't see where we come in on it," he remarked. "It's a church affair, you know." "Oh!" said Jennie. "But there'll be a reception, of course, and if she'll let us have it here, I'll have every one of us girls she has helped so much in the past." Jimmie stared. "Consistency--" he muttered. "What's that you said, Jimmie? Are you ill?" inquired Jennie, anxiously. "No!" replied Jimmie, "it's you women! I can't understand you at all!" "You're not supposed to, Jimmie, dear," answered Jennie sweetly. Somebody's Cat By Ida R. Fargo I never thought I should come to like cats. But I have. Perhaps it is because, as my Aunt Amanda used to say, we change every seven years, sort of start over again, as it were; and find we have new thoughts, different ideas, unexpected tastes, strange attractions, and shifting doubts. Or, it may be, we merely come to a new milestone from which, looking back, we are able to regard our own personality from a hitherto unknown angle. We discover ourselves anew, and delight in the experiment. Or, it may all be, as my husband stolidly affirms, just the logical result of meeting Sir Christopher Columbus, a carnivorous quadruped of the family _Felidæ_, much domesticated, in this case, white with markings as black and shiny as a crow's wing, so named because he voyaged about our village, not in search of a new world, but in search of a new home. He came to us. It is flattering to be chosen. He stayed. But who could resist Sir Christopher? My husband and my Aunt Amanda may both be right. I strongly suspect they are. I also strongly suspect that Sir Christopher himself has much to do with my change of mental attitude: He is well-mannered, good to look upon, quite adorable, independent and patient. (Indeed, if people were half as patient as my cat this would be a different world to live in.) More: He has taught me many things, he talks without making too much noise; in fact, I have read whole sermons in his soft purrings. And I verily believe that many people might learn much from the family cat, except for the fact that we humans are such poor translators. We know only our own language. More's the pity. Had I known Sir Christopher as a kitten, doubtless he might have added still more to my education. But I did not. He was quite full grown when I first laid my eyes upon him. He was sitting in the sun, on top of a rail fence, blinking at me consideringly. The fence skirted a little trail that led from my back yard down to Calapooia Creek. It seemed trying to push back a fringe of scrubby underbrush which ran down a hillside; a fringe which was, in truth, but a feeler from the great forest of Douglas fir which one saw marching, file upon file, row upon row, back and back to the snows of the high Cascades. And the white of Sir Christopher's vest and snowy gauntlets was just as gleamingly clean as the icy frosting over the hills. Sir Christopher, even a cat, believed firmly in sartorial pulchritude. I admired him for that, even from the first glance; and, afterward, I put me up three new mirrors: I did not mean to be outdone by my cat, I intended to look tidy every minute, and there is nothing like mirrors to tell the truth. Credit for the initial impulse, however, belongs to Christopher C. But that first morning, I merely glanced at him, sitting so comfortably on the top rail of the fence, blinking in the sun. "Somebody's cat," said I, and went on down to the creek to see if Curlylocks had tumbled in. Coming back, the cat was still there. Doubtless he had taken a nap between times. But he might have been carved of stone, so still he lay, till my youngest, tugging at my hand, coaxed: "Kitty--kitty--kitty. Muvver, see my 'ittle kitty?" And I declare, if Sir Christopher (my husband and ten-year-old Ted named him that very evening) didn't look at me and wink. Then he jumped down and followed, very dignified, very discreet. I attempted to shoo him back. But he wouldn't shoo. He merely stopped and seemed to consider matters. Or serenely remained far enough off to "play safe." Meanwhile, my youngest continued to reiterate: "Kitty--kitty--kitty! _My_ 'ittle kitty!" "No, Curlylocks," said I, "it isn't your little kitty. It is somebody's cat." Which merely shows that I knew not whereof I spoke. Sir Christopher proceeded to teach me. Of course, at first I thought his stay with us was merely a temporary matter; like some folk, he had decided to go on a visit and stay over night. But when Sir Christopher continued to tarry, I enquired, I looked about, I advertised--and I assured the children that some one, somewhere, must surely be mourning the loss of a precious pet; some one, sometime, would come to claim him. But no one came. Days slid away, weeks slipped into months, winter walked our way, and spring, and summer again. Sir Christopher C. had deliberately adopted us, for he made no move toward finding another abiding place. He was no longer Somebody's cat, he was our cat; for, indeed, is not possession nine points of the law? Then one day when heat shimmered over the valley, when the dandelions had seeded and the thistles had bloomed, when the corn stood heavy and the cricket tuned his evening fiddle, when spots in the lawn turned brown, where the sprinkler missed, when the baby waked and fretted, and swearing, sweating men turned to the west and wondered what had held up the sea breeze--Sir Christopher missed his supper. He vanished as completely as if he had been kidnapped by the Air Patrol. Three weeks went by and we gave him up for lost, although the children still prowled about looking over strange premises, peeping through back gates, trailing down unaccustomed lanes and along Calapooia Creek, for "We _might_ find him," they insisted. Truly, "Hope springs eternal." "Perhaps, he has gone back where he came from," said Daddy. "Perhaps, he has grown tired of us." But My Man's voice was a little too matter-of-factly gruff--indeed, he had grown very fond of Sir Christopher--and as for the children, they would accept no such explanation. It was Curlylocks who found Sir Christopher--or did Sir Chris find Curlylocks? Anyway, they came walking through the gate, my youngest declaiming, "Kitty--kitty--kitty! _My_ 'ittle kitty!" And since that time, every summer, Sir Christopher takes a vacation. He comes back so sleek and proud and happy that he can hardly contain himself. He rubs against each of us in turn, purring the most satisfied purr--if we could but fully understand the dialect he speaks!--as if he would impart to us something truly important. "I declare," said Daddy, one day, "I believe that cat goes up in the hills and hunts." "Camps out and has a good time," added daughter. "And fishes," suggested Ted. "Cats _do_ catch fish. Sometimes. I've read about it." Daddy nodded. "Seems to agree with him, whatever he does." "Vacations agree with anybody," asserted my oldest. And then, "I don't see why we can't go along with Sir Chris. At least we might go the same _time_ he does." "Mother, couldn't we?"--it was a question that gathered weight and momentum like a snowball rolling down hill, for I had always insisted that, with a big family like mine, I could never bother to go camping. I wanted to be where things were handy: running water from a faucet, bathtubs and gas and linoleum, a smoothly cut lawn and a morning postman. Go camping with a family like mine? Never. But the thought once set going would not down. Perhaps, after all, Sir Christopher was right and I was wrong. For people did go camping, most people, even groups to the number of nine (the right count for our family), and they seemed to enjoy it. They fought with mosquitoes, and fell into creeks; they were blotched with poison oak, black from exposure, lame from undue exercise, and looked worse than vagrant gipsies--but they came home happy. Even those who spent days in bed to rest up from their rest (I have known such) seemed happy. And every one sighs and says, "We had such a good time! We're planning to go back again next summer." So at last I gave up--or gave in. We went to the mountains, following up the trail along Calapooia Creek; we camped and hunted and fished to the hearts' content. We learned to cook hotcakes out-of-doors, and how to make sourdough biscuit, and to frizzle bacon before a bonfire, and to bake ham in a bread pan, such as our mothers fitted five loaves of bread in; we learned to love hash, and like potatoes boiled in their jackets, and coffee with the cream left out. We went three miles to borrow a match; we divided salt with the stranger who had forgotten his; we learned that fish is good on other days than Friday and that trout crisps beautifully in bacon grease; we found eleventeen uses for empty lard pails and discovered the difference between an owl and a tree toad. We gained a speaking acquaintance with the Great Dipper, and learned where to look for the north star, why fires must be put out and what chipmunks do for a living. We learned-- Last night we came home. "Now, mother, aren't you really glad you went?" quizzed Daddy. "Yes-s," said I, slowly, "I'm glad I went. It has been a new experience. I feel like I'd gained a degree at the State University." My understanding mate merely chuckled--and went on unpacking the tinware. But Ted spoke up: "Gee! Bet I make good in English III this year. Got all sorts of ideas for themes. This trip's been bully." "We'll go again, won't we, Mother?" asked my oldest. "I think we'll always go again," answered I--some sober thinking I was doing, as I folded away the blankets. "Let me get supper"--it was Laura, my middle girl, speaking--"surely I can cook on gas, if I can over a campfire." And Laura had never wanted to cook! Strange tendencies develop when one lives out in the open a space of time. But Curlylocks was undisturbed. "Kitty--kitty--kitty! _My_ 'ittle kitty!" he reiterated. And truly, so my neighbor told me, Sir Christopher had beat us home by a scant twenty-four hours. He rubbed about us in turns, happily purring. "He's telling us all what a good time he had," said I, understanding at last, "but he is adding, I think, that the best part of going away is getting home again." "But if we didn't go we couldn't get home again," said Somebody. And somebody's cat purred his approval. Perhaps, after all, he finds us a teachable family. Or perhaps he knows that once caught by the lure of the hills, once having tasted the tang of mountainous ozone, we will always go back--he has rare intuitions, has Sir Christopher. For, already, I find myself figuring to fashion a detachable long handle for the frying pan: Yes, next time, we shall plan to conserve both fingers and face. Next time! That is the beauty of vacation days: We think of them when the frost comes, when the snow drifts deep, when the arbutus blooms again--and we plan, plan, plan! And are very happy--because of memory, and anticipation. We have opened barred windows, and widened our life's horizon. Does Sir Christopher guess? Wise old Sir Chris! Homing-It in an Apartment By Ernest L. Thurston There were four of them--all girls employed in great offices. Alone, far away from their home towns and families, they were all suffering from attacks of too-much-boarding-house. Each was longing for a real, home-y place to live in. And out of that longing was born, in time, an idea, which developed, after much planning, figuring and price-getting, into a concrete plan and a course of action. They were good friends, of congenial tastes, and so they decided to "home-it" together. Now this is nothing new, in itself. It was the thorough way they went about it that was not so common. They applied the rules of their business life, and studied their proposed path before they set foot in it. They looked over the field, weighed the problems, decided what they could do, and then arranged to put themselves on a sound financial basis from the start. All had occupied separate rooms in sundry boarding houses. Each had experience in "meals in" and "meals out." Each could analyze fairly accurately her expenses for the preceding six months. After study, they decided that, without increasing their combined expense, they could have comfortable quarters of their own and more than meet all their needs. "Freedom, food, furniture, fixing and _friends_," said Margaret, "without the boarding house flavor." They longed for a little house and garden of their own. But they were busy people, and this would mean extra hours of care and labor, more demands on their strength, and a longer travel distance--a load they felt they could not carry. So they sought an apartment. The search was long but they found it. It was in a small structure, on a quiet street, and several flights up, without elevator. But, as Peggy said, "Elevators have not been in style in our boarding houses, and flights of stairs have--so what matters it?" The suite, when you arrived up there, was airy and comfortable. It provided two bedrooms, a cheery living room, a dining room and a kitchenette. Clarice remarked, "The 'ette' is so small we can save steps by being within hand's reach of everything, no matter where we stand." The rent was less than the combined rental of their four old rooms. Heat and janitor service were provided without charge, but they were obliged to meet the expense of gas for the range and of electric lights. They might have lived along happily in their new nest without a budget, and without specific agreements as to expense. But they were business girls. So they sat right down and decided every point, modifying each, under trial, to a workable proposition. Then they stuck to it and _made_ it work. There was the matter of furnishing. Each partner, while retaining personal title to her property, contributed to general use such articles of furniture she possessed as met apartment needs. From one, for example, came a comfortable bed, from another, chairs and a reading lamp, from a third a lounge chair, and from the fourth her piano and couch. Of small rugs, sofa pillows, pictures and miscellaneous small furnishings there were sufficient to make possible a real selection. Then the four determined on further absolute essentials to make the rooms homelike. There were needed comfortable single beds for each, dressing tables, bed linen, dining-room equipment, kitchen ware, a chair or two, and draperies. Their decisions were made in committee-of-the-whole, and nothing was done that could not meet with the willing consent of all. To meet the first cost they each contributed fifty dollars from their small savings, and assessed themselves a dollar and a quarter per week thereafter. They then bought their equipment, paying part cash and arranging for the balance on time. And be sure it was fun getting it! Then there was the question of meals. It was determined to prepare their breakfasts and dinners and to put up lunches. To allow a certain freedom, it was agreed that each should pack her own lunch, and that regular meals should be cooked and served, turn and turn about, each partner acting for a week. A second member washed the dishes and took general care of the apartment. Thus a girl's general program reduced to, First week Cooking Second week Free Third week Dishes, etc. Fourth week Free Fifth week Cooking Etc. During an experimental period, the cost of provisions and ice was summed up weekly and paid by equal assessment. Later a fixed assessment of seven dollars, each, was agreed to, and proved sufficient. There were even slight surpluses to go into the mannikin jar on the living room mantel, which Clarice called the "Do Drop Inn", because it provided from its contents refreshment for those who dropped in of an evening. Naturally there was a friendly rivalry, not only in making the most of the allotment, but in providing attractive meals and dainty special dishes. Clarice's stuffed tomatoes won deserved fame, and Margaret made a reputation on cheese soufflé. Peggy, too, was a wizard with the chafing dish. Consideration was given the matter of special guests, either for meals, or for over-night. The couch in the living room provided emergency sleeping quarters. As for meals, separate fixed rates were set for breakfasts and for dinners. This was paid into the regular weekly provision fund by the girl who brought the guest, or by all four equally, if she were a "general" guest. The girl who brought a guest also "pitched in" and helped with the work. Whenever the group went out for a meal, as they did now and then for a change, or for amusement, or recreation, each girl paid her own share at once. Finally, there was the factor of laundry. After a little experimenting, household linen was worked out on an "average" basis, so that a regular amount could be assessed each week. Of course each girl met the expense of her own private laundry. As a result of this planning, each member of the household found herself obligated to meet a weekly assessment containing the following items: Rent, furniture tax, household laundry, extras ($1.00) and personal laundry. Of these, the only item not positively fixed, as to amount, was the last. Each girl, naturally, paid all her strictly private expense, including clothes, and medical and dental service. One of the number was chosen treasurer for a three-months' term, and was then, in turn, succeeded by another, so that each of the four served once a year. The treasurer received all assessments, gave the weekly allotment to the housewife, and paid other bills. Minor deficiencies were met from "surplus." Moreover, she kept accurate accounts. Once settled comfortably in their quarters, with boarding-house memories receding into the background, it took but little time for a happy, home-y atmosphere to develop. Of course, with closer intimacy, there were temperamental adjustments, as always, but they came easily. The household machinery ran smoothly, almost from the first, because there _was_ a machine, properly set up, operated and adjusted--rather than an uncertain makeshift. To Express Personality By Dana Girrioer "'Keep house?' I should say not!" answered Anne, who had journeyed out into the suburbs to "tell" her engagement to Burt Winchester to the home folks before she "announced" it. "I'm going to retire to the Kensington, or some nice apartment hotel, at the ripe old age of twenty-four. What'd you think, we're back in the dark ages, B. F.?" "'B. F.'?" repeated Aunt Milly. "Before Ford," said Anne, laughing. "Oh, it was the thing for you, Auntie, you couldn't have brought up your own big family in a city apartment, to say nothing of stretching your wings to cover Little Orphant Annie, besides, everybody kept house when you were married!" "And now nobody does, except a few Ancient Mariners?" inquired Cousin Dan. Anne blushed. "Of course it suits some people, now," she amended, hastily. "Perhaps it's all right to keep house, if you have a big family, or lots of money and can hire all the fussing done." "You don't need to hire fussing, if you've a big family," said Aunt Milly, her eyes twinkling behind the gold-bowed spectacles. "You'll keep on with the drawing--illustrating?" "Surely," answered Anne. "Burt will keep right on being a lawyer." "I see," said George. "Well, Queen Anne, I suppose when we want to visit you we can hire a room in the same block, I mean, hotel. I thought, perhaps, having so far conformed to the habits of us Philistines as to take a husband, you might go the whole figure and take a house!" "Please!" begged Anne. In that tone, it was a catchword dating back to nursery days which the elf-like Anne had shared with a whole brood of sturdy cousins, and meant, "Please stop fooling; I want to be taken seriously." "I love to draw--but my people don't look alive, somehow," said little Milly, wistfully. Cried Anne: "Keep trying, Milly; there is nothing so lovely as to have even a taste for some sort of creative work, and to develop it; to express your own personality in something tangible, and to be encouraged to do so. Do understand me, Auntie and the rest; it isn't that I want to shirk, but I do want to specialize on what I do best! I'll wash dishes if it's ever necessary, but why must I wish a whole pantry on myself when either Burt or I could pay our proportionate share of a hotel dish-washer, or butler, or whatever is needed?" At the studio it was much easier. "Some time in the early fall," Anne told her callers, who arrived by two's, three's and four's, as the news began to circulate among her friends. "No, I won't keep this," with a jerk of her thumb towards the big, bare room which had been hers since she left Aunt Milly and the little home town. "There's a room at the top of the Kensington I can have, with a light as good as this, and that settles the last problem. I'd hate to have to go outdoors for meals, when I'm working." "Nan Gilbert!" exclaimed her dearest friend. "You have the best luck! You can do good work, and get good pay for it, and be happy all by yourself; and now you're going to be happier, with a husband who'll let you live your own life; you'll be absolutely free, not even a percolator to bother with, nothing to take your mind from your own creative work, free to express your own personality!" "Mercy," said Anne, closing the door upon this last caller. "If I don't set the North River, at least, on fire, pretty soon, they'll all call me a slacker." She hung her card, "Engaged," upon the door leading into the hall (some one had scrawled "Best Wishes" underneath the printed word), and proceeded to get her dinner in a thoughtful frame of mind. The tiny kitchenette boasted ice-box, fireless, and a modest collection of electric cooking appliances; in a half-hour Anne had evolved a cream soup, a bit of steak, nearly cubical in proportions, slice of graham bread, a salad of lettuce and tomato with skilfully tossed dressing, a muffin split ready to toast, with the jam and spreader for it, and coffee was dripping into the very latest model of coffee-pots. Anne had never neglected her country appetite, and was a living refutation of the idea that neatness and art may not dwell together. She moved quietly and with a speed which had nothing of haste; her mind was busy with a magazine cover for December, she believed she'd begin studying camels. After dinner came Burt Winchester, a steady-voiced, olive-skinned young man, in pleasant contrast to Anne's vivacious fairness, and together they journeyed uptown and then west to the Kensington, for a final decision upon the one vacant apartment. The rooms were of fair size, they were all light, and the agent had at least half a yard of applicants upon a printed slip in his pocket. Burt studied the apartment not at all, but his fiancée with quiet amusement. He was much in love with Anne, but he understood her better than she had yet discovered. "I don't think we'll ever find anything better," she was saying to him. "Perhaps he'd have it redecorated for us, with a long lease--" The agent coughed discreetly. "The leases are for one year, with privilege of renewal," he said to Burt. "It has just been redecorated; is there anything needed?" "It would all be lovely, if one liked blue," murmured Anne. "Just the thing for some girl, but not for me, all that pale blue and silver, it doesn't look a bit like either of us, Burt. I had worked out the most stunning scheme, cream and black, with a touch of Kelly green--" Another cough, somewhat louder, and accompanied by an undisguised look of sympathy for Burt. "The owner prefers to decide the decorations, Madame," said the agent. "Tastes differ so, you understand." "Please hold the suite for me until tomorrow night," said Burt, decisively. "I suppose we'll take it; if not, I'll make it right with you." "I should say, 'tastes differ,'" laughed Anne, tucking her arm into Burt's, as they began the long walk down-town. "Do you know, Aunt Milly and the girls thought, of course, we'd keep house, and Dan and George are going to pick out girls that will keep house, I saw it in their eyes. You--you're going to be satisfied, Burt?" "I think so," answered Burt, judiciously, and then with a change of tone, "Nan, you precious goose, you've always told me you were not domestic." "And you've always said you were no more domestic than I was," finished Anne, happily. She entirely missed the quizzical expression of the brown eyes above her. "Nuff said.--Are we going to Branton tomorrow, Burt, with the crowd? Can you take the day?" Anne's "crowd," the half-dozen good friends among the many acquaintances she had formed in the city, were invited for a day in the country. She and Burt now talked it over, agreeing to meet in time to take the nine-thirty train, with the others. But at nine, next morning, Burt had not appeared at the studio; instead, Miss Gilbert had a telephone message that Mr. Winchester was delayed, but would call as soon as possible. It was unlike Burt, but Anne, sensibly, supposed that business had intervened, and, removing her hat, was glad to remember that she had not definitely accepted the invitation when it was given. The "crowd" were sure enough of each other and of themselves to appear casual: Burt and she could take a later train, and have just as warm a welcome. At nine-thirty Burt appeared, explaining briefly, "Best I could do. There's a train in twenty minutes, we'll catch it if we hurry." Anne hurried, which proved to be unnecessary, as the train seemed late in starting; during the trip there was little conversation, as Anne was tactful, and Burt preoccupied. "Branton!" called the conductor, at least it sounded like Branton, Burt came out of his revery with a start, and Anne followed him down the aisle. They stood a moment upon the platform of the quiet little station and watched the train pull out; as they turned back into what seemed the principal street, Anne craned her neck to look around an inconvenient truck piled with baggage, and made out the sign, Byrnton. "Oh, Burt, what were we thinking of?" she exclaimed. "This isn't the right place at all! We were to take the road up past a brick church--and there isn't any here--this is Byrnton, and we wanted Branton. What shall we do--why don't you say something?" "Fudge!" said Burt, soberly, but in his eyes the dancing light he reserved for Anne. "I'll ask the ticket-agent." He came out of the station, smiling. "This isn't the Branton line at all, but a short branch west of it," he informed her. "We took the wrong train, but he says lots of people make the same mistake, and they are going to change one name or the other, eventually. I am to blame, Nan, for I know this place, Byrnton; I have, or used to have, an Aunt Susan here, somewhere--shall we look her up? We have nearly three hours to kill. It will be afternoon before we can get to Branton--and Aunt Susan will give us nourishment, at least, if she's home." "Very well," Anne assented. If Burt's business absorbed him like this, she must learn to take it philosophically. "What a pretty place, Burt! Do see those wonderful elms!" Byrnton proved to be an old-fashioned village, which had had the good fortune to be remodelled without being modernized. Along the main street many of the houses were square, prim little boxes, with front yards bright with sweet williams, marigolds, and candytuft; these had an iron fence around the garden, and, invariably, shutters at the front door. An occasional house stood flush with the brick or flagged sidewalk; in that case there were snowy curtains at the window, and a glimpse of hollyhocks at the back. The newer houses could be distinguished by the wide, open spaces around them; the late comers had not planned their homes to command the village street, and neighbors, as an older generation had done, but these twentieth century models did not begin until one had left the little railway station well behind. "What a homely, homey place," said Anne, noting everything with the eye of an artist. "I don't see how you could forget it, if you have an aunt living here." "That's the question," answered Burt. "Have I an aunt living here? She may be in California; however, in that case, the key will be under the mat." Anne continued to look about her, with sparkling eyes. "If Aunt Milly had lived in a place like this, I'd be there yet," she told him. "The factories spoiled the place for me, but they made business good for Uncle Andy and the boys, and Aunt Milly likes the bustle, she'd think this was too quiet.--Isn't it queer how people manage to get what they want--in time?" "It is, indeed," smiled Burt. "There, Nan, that low white cottage at the very end, the last before you come to open fields. That's Aunt Susan's." They quickened their pace; Anne was conscious of an intense wish that Aunt Susan might be home. She wanted to see the inside of the white house, bungalow, it might almost be called, if one did not associate bungalows with stucco or stained shingles. This cottage was of white wood, with the regulation green blinds. There was an outside chimney of red bricks; a pathway of red bricks in the old herringbone pattern led up to the front door, with its shining brass knocker. A row of white foxgloves stood sentinel before the front of the house, on each side the entrance, their pointed spires coming well above the window-sills; before them the dark foliage of perennial lupins, tossing up a white spray of flowers, and then it seemed as if every old-fashioned flower of white, or with a white variety, ran riot down to a border of sweet alyssum. Above all the fragrance came the unmistakable sweetness of mignonette. "Oh, Burt!" called Anne, "I do hope she's home. What a woman she must be, I can guess some things about her, just from the outside of her house. I hope she'll show me the inside of it." Burt shook his head. "She'd have seen us before this and been out here," he suggested. "Come 'round to the back." The back of the premises proved no less fascinating; there was the neatest of clothes-yards, a vegetable garden, and a small garage, after which Anne regarded the silent cottage with wistful eyes. "Those beautiful, old-fashioned flowers, no petunias but the white frilled kind,--she's an artist--and has the wash done at home," she enumerated, "and runs her automobile herself, I am sure, for she's a practical person as well; if she were just a sentimental flower-lover, she'd have had something or other climbing up the house, and it spoils the woodwork." "It's safe to say Aunt Susan's in California," said Burt, disregarding this. "No joke, Nan, she has a married daughter who has been trying to get her out there for years, and Aunt Susan's always threatening to go. Never thought she would, but we can soon find out; I know who'll have the key." He left Anne and walked back to the house just passed, and presently reappeared with the key. "Here you are. Aunt Susan left it with Mrs. Brown, who is to look after the place, and to use her judgment about letting people in. Aunt Susan has only been gone two days, she went hurriedly at the last, and Mrs. Brown is to close the house for her, but she hasn't got 'round to it yet. Lucky for us, there'll be everything we need for lunch; I brought eggs--see?" Laughing like a boy. Burt unlocked the back door, and then produced four eggs, from as many pockets. He laid them carefully down upon the kitchen table. "Now, Nan, we can use anything in the kitchen or pantry, and Mrs. Brown has a blueberry pie in the oven which she'll give us, she'll bring it over when it's done.--Want to go over the house?--Give you my word it's all right, in fact Aunt Susan told Mrs. Brown she wished she could rent it, as is, if she only knew somebody who would love it--that was her word. You can love it until the afternoon train, can't you?" If Anne heard, she made no reply, she was exploring. Downstairs, a wide hall occupied a central third of the house; it was well lighted by the windows each side the front door, and by double doors of glass, which opened on to the back porch. On one side the hall were kitchen and pantry, nearly equal in size, and glistening with white paint, aluminum, and blue and white porcelain. With a hasty glance over these treasures, to which she was coming back, Anne stepped out into the hall again, and around to the front of the winding staircase, and entered what she knew at once for the "owner's bedroom." There were windows on two sides, as this was a front room, and each broad sill bore its own pot of ferns. The furniture here was all old-fashioned, of some dark wood that had been rubbed to a satin finish, the floor was of plain surface, with braided mats, and a blue and white counterpane provided the only bit of drapery in the room. Anne's bright head nodded with satisfaction. Here was character; to win Aunt Susan's respect would be no light task, her personal and intimate belongings showed an austere sense of values and an almost surgical cleanliness. Yet Aunt Susan could not be a martinet; her hall, furnished for other people, showed due regard for their comfort; the living room, which took the entire western side of the cottage, bore unmistakable signs of much occupancy, with wide and varied interests. A set of dark shelves, at the lower end, held china, and suggested that one might also eat at the refectory table, which was furnished as a desk and held a few books, many writing materials, and a foreign-looking lamp. There was also a piano, well littered with music, a sewing bag thrown down upon a cretonned window seat, and the generous fireplace was flanked by two huge baskets, one heaped with magazines, the other a perfectly round mound of yellow fur, which suddenly took form and life as a yellow tabby cat fastened hopeful topaz eyes upon them, blinked away a brief disappointment, and then yawned with ennui. "His missie left him all alone," said Anne, bending to stroke the smooth head. "What's upstairs, Burt?" "Go and look, I'll take your place with the Admiral until you come back," offered Burt, and at sound of his name the yellow cat jumped out and began rubbing against a convenient table leg. Anne found them in the same relative positions when she returned from her inspection of the upper floor. "Your Aunt Susan must use it for sewing," she told Burt, dreamily. "With that big skylight--it could be a studio, couldn't it?" "It is," Burt informed her. "Aunt Susan is an artist--with her needle. She gives, or gave, dressmaking lessons, in her idle moments. She gave up dressmaking, when she bought this house and settled here, but now she teaches the daughters of her old customers, they come out in automobiles every Wednesday, in winter. Saturday afternoons she has some of the young girls in the village, here,--without price--and without taste, too, some of them! And Nan, I hate to mention it, but--Aunt Susan is a pretty good cook, too!" "Feed the brute!" quoted Nan, with a gay laugh. "Will the Admiral drink condensed milk?" Mrs. Brown came over with her blueberry pie as Burt was summoned to luncheon. She surveyed the table, which Nan had laid in the kitchen, and then the Admiral, who was making his toilette in a thorough manner that suggested several courses, with outspoken approval. "My, I wish Susan Winchester could pop in this minute. You found the prepared flour, and all--baked 'em on the griddle! Wa'n't that cute! I never did see an omelet like that except from Susan Winchester's own hands, and she learned from a Frenchwoman she used to sew with. Some folks can pick up every useful trick they see." Turning to Burt, she continued: "With all the new fangle-dangles of these days, women voting and all, you're a lucky boy to have found an old-fashioned girl!" "I know it," said Burt, brazenly, but he did not meet Anne's astonished eyes. "My girl has learned the best of the new accomplishments, without losing what was worth keeping of the old." Anne's judgment told her it was a good luncheon--no better than she served herself at home, though. She stared at her own slim, capable fingers. Was she domestic, after all? "We've been looking at apartments in the city," Burt went on--"apartments in a hotel, you know.--Try the omelet, Mrs. Brown--Nan's don't fall flat as soon as other omelets do.--But we haven't found what really appeals to us." "I should think not," declared Mrs. Brown, vigorously. "I always say a person hasn't a spark of originality that will go and live in a coop just like hundreds of others, all cut to the same pattern. Look at your Aunt Susan, now. This house belonged to old Joe Potter, he built it less'n ten years ago an Mis' Potter she had it the way she wanted it, and that was like the house she lived in when she was a girl, little, tucked-up rooms, air-tight stoves, a tidy on every chair, and she made portières out of paper beads that tickled 'em both silly--yes, and tickled everybody in the ear that went through 'em, though that wan't what I meant to say. When she died, Joe wouldn't live here, said he wouldn't be so homesick for Julia in another house, this one was full of her. So, your Aunt Susan bought it, and what did she do? "She knocked out partitions, took down fire-boards, threw out a good parlor set and lugged in tables and chairs from all over, put big panes of glass where there was little ones--in some places, she did, and only the good angels and Susan Winchester knows why she didn't change 'em all, they're terrible mean to wash--made the front hall into a setting room and the parlor into a bedroom, got two bathrooms and no dining room--well, to make a long story short, this house is now Susan Winchester. Anybody that knows Susan would know it was her house if they see it in China. "Did you learn to keep house with your mother?" The transition was so abrupt that Anne started. "I--my aunt brought me up--and nine cousins," she answered. "My aunt is as unlike Burt's as you can imagine, but just as dear and good. She had a big family, and there was never time enough to have her home as she wanted it--so she thought--and I thought so, too--but yet--Aunt Milly's home was always full of happy children, and, perhaps, that's what she really wanted, more than dainty furnishings or a spotless kitchen." "Folks, mostly, get what they want, even if they don't know it," confirmed Mrs. Brown. "Look at the Admiral, here. He don't want to come over and live with me, same as Susan meant he should. He wants to stay right in his own home, and have his meals and petting same as usual, and here you come along today and give them to him. Trouble is, folks don't always know what it is they want." When Mrs. Brown went back to her own dinner, she left Anne with something to think about. Washing the dishes in Aunt Susan's white sink, which was fitted to that very purpose, drying them upon a rack which held every dish apart from its neighbors, and, finally, polishing the quaintly shaped pieces upon Aunt Susan's checked towel, which remained dry and spotless; opening every drawer and cupboard to see that all was left in the dainty order she had found there, Anne had a clear vision of the blue and silver furnishings at the Kensington. What had she told Burt: "It doesn't look like either of us"?--while Aunt Susan's home-- "Burt," she called, "come and answer this question. Did you come to Byrnton instead of Branton on purpose?" "What's this?" said Burt. "Cross-examination?" "It's an examination, surely, but I won't be cross," replied Anne, with a rare dimple. "You must answer my question truly." "Yes, Your Honor," said Burt. "I did, Your Honor." "Did you know your Aunt Susan wouldn't be home?" "Our Aunt Susan," corrected Burt.--"No, Your Honor--that is, I thought--" "You knew she was going to California?" "Yes, Your Honor." "This summer?" "I didn't know exactly when--honestly, Nan, I did want you to meet her." "Why?"' "I knew you'd like the way she keeps house. I didn't realize that the house could speak for itself, without her.--You do like it, Nan?" "I don't have to answer questions, because I'm the Judge," Nan told him. "I'll ask you one more. Do you want me to ask you to take this cottage, for us, in the fall, and stay in it until Aunt Susan comes back?" "Not unless Your Honor pleases." "Case dismissed, for lack of evidence," said Nan.--"Burt, could we live here?" "We could. I'll admit it's what I'd like, if you do. The difference in rents would buy gasoline. Could you work here, and keep house, too?" "I can if I'm smart," answered Nan, soberly. "I wonder if I'm smart." "Dear," said Burt. "What have you done since you came to New York but work and keep house, too, in less convenient quarters than this, and with no one to help you--no good husband like me--?" "That's so!" she turned a radiant face upon him. "If we like, we can begin another home, of our very own, when Aunt Susan wants hers back," Burt smiled quizzically. "No one else's house would suit you for always, Nan. Ask me why." "Why?" "Because," said Burt in triumph, "personality, like the measles, will out!" AMERICAN COOKERY FORMERLY THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE OF Culinary Science and Domestic Economics SUBSCRIPTION $1.50 PER YEAR, SINGLE COPIES 15C POSTAGE TO FOREIGN COUNTRIES, 40C PER YEAR TO SUBSCRIBERS The date stamped on the wrapper is the date on which your subscription expires; it is, also, an acknowledgment that a subscription, or a renewal of the same, has been received. Please renew on receipt of the colored blank enclosed for this purpose. In sending notice to renew a subscription or change of address, please give the _old_ address as well as the _new_. In referring to an original entry, we must know the name as it was formerly given, together with the Post-office, County, State, Post-office Box, or Street Number. ENTERED AT BOSTON POST-OFFICE AS SECOND-CLASS MATTER LOVE'S DAY When the morning on the hill crest snuffs the candles of the night, And the wide world blooms in beauty with the coming of the light, With the morn awakens, ever sweet and ever new, The happiness of knowing I share the dawn with you. When the morning shadows shorten on the sunny slopes of noon, And the roads of earth are humming with toil's deep, insistent tune, Fragrant as a sea wind, blowing from an island blue, Through moiling hours of toiling comes my memory of you. When the shadows of the twilight like long lashes dim and gray Close in slumber softly o'er the weary eyes of day, Calling through the twilight like harbor lights from sea, Your love becomes a beacon that shines with cheer for me! _Arthur Wallace Peach._ LIMITATION OF ARMAMENTS "On Armistice Day, November 11, at the hour when the twenty-four men representing the six participating nations first face each other across the council table, a nation-wide demonstration will be under way in the United States. Organized labor announces that in every town and city the workers will join with other citizens in mass-meetings and parades and that the keynote of Armistice Day should be, 'It is time to disarm.' It will help in impressing upon our own government and upon other governments that the people are weary of war-made tax burdens; that they are deeply in earnest in their demands that these burdens be removed. It will strengthen the purpose of the four men who are to represent America to know that they have the support of the workers and the voters. The action of organized labor will help in liberating and directing these 'moral forces'; but Labor cannot do it alone. There are others of these 'forces' that cannot be tapped or directed by Labor, and these must come into action. The time is drawing nigh for their mobilization." _Philadelphia Public Ledger._ "Without the crowding, persistent, fighting force of the masses the crusade cannot be won. This is the people's salvation and it is, therefore, the people's fight. It is now up to the people of this country to make their wishes known and their opinions felt. It should be constantly in mind that, without the mobilized moral force of those upon whom these crushing burdens are now falling, there is little hope that the load will ever be lifted. If it is not lifted, no one can prophesy what lies beyond. There can be no relief from taxes, no relief from expenditures and no relief from war, except through disarmament." W. E. BORAH. "One more war, fully prepared for, prepared for with all the diabolical perversions of science, will reduce Europe and America to what Russia is today." _Churchman._ Certainly we believe in the closest limitation of armament. In this matter we would go to the extreme limit. We are tired of militarism and tired of war and the rumors of war. While we need and desire a merchant marine, we have no use for fighting ships or submarines. Years ago we began to dream that America would never engage in another war, but we have witnessed the most horrid conflict that ever devastated the earth. How can any one ever want war again? The nation that makes an aggressive attack on another should be regarded as an outlaw and treated as such by the rest of the world. Dissensions are sure to arise, but these can be settled by conference and agreement or by arbitration. Prosperity is dependent on peace. No other world-wide saving can equal that which can be gained through limitation of armament. The wealth of the world consists of just what the world produces. The one master word of the day is Production. People are not producing enough to satisfy all their wants; there is not stuff enough to go round. As a nation we need less of politics and more of production. Our main contention should be a moral appeal for unity in the industrial world. "The field for constructive, imaginative, and creative minds is the field of commerce." A PIONEER IN HOME ECONOMICS From a recent report by Mr. Eugene Davenport, vice-president of the University of Illinois, we draw the following: Miss Isabel Bevier retired this year from her work in Home Economics at the University of Illinois. She entered the service of the University in 1900. During the twenty-one years of its existence, Professor Bevier has given herself unsparingly to the development and conduct, day by day, of the department of Home Economics. The field was almost entirely new, as a university subject. The courses have been outlined and conducted with a double purpose in mind. First, the presenting of home economics as a part of a liberal education; and second, the development of courses leading to a profession in teaching, dietetics, and cafeteria management. The first graduating class in 1903 numbered three. The number rapidly increased, reaching ninety-four in 1918. The total number of students coming under the instruction of the staff of teachers for the last twenty-one years is approximately 5,000. If efforts are to be judged by their results, whether in respect to alumnæ or the present registration of undergraduate students, it is not too much to say that the purposes of this department have been in the main accomplished, by which is meant that the department has trained hundreds of competent executives and teachers without such exclusive attention to the professional as to break the contact with that great mass of university women who are to become, not teachers or professionals of any kind, but the heads of American homes. To achieve this double purpose has been the great ambition of the department, in which it has eminently succeeded. It is not too much to say that at present, no department of the university enjoys more of the confidence and respect of the institution than does the department of Home Economics. At the Recognition Service in honor of Professor Bevier, in May, 1921, the alumnæ presented the University with an excellent portrait of Miss Bevier. "FEEDING-THE-FAMILY" CLUB Women are waking up to the fact that upon their shoulders rests the responsibility of having a healthier nation. Too many people are dying of avoidable diseases. Rich foods have taken more toll of life than war and pestilence, dietitians tell us. More and more stress is being placed upon diet--not for the sick only, but for those in good health, that they may preserve it. By diet we mean the proper combinations of foods and the scientific uses of vitamines, starches, proteins and acids. What we need is more than a reading acquaintance with those subjects. A certain group of women in Long Beach, Calif., have decided that the acquisition of knowledge concerning food properties is the only way to better living for their families. They have grouped together under the name of the "Feeding-the-Family" Club, and, under the leadership of the head of the department of domestic science of the public schools, they meet on Wednesday evening each week for two hours to learn how to prepare healthful, nourishing meals for the average family. There are sixteen women in the group, representing fifty-six persons, most of whom are children in school. Think what it means to those children to have mothers who are vitally interested in seeing them grow up to be strong, virile men and women. "Knowledge makes Power," aye, the knowledge of the mothers of today makes for the powerful citizens of tomorrow. R. C. C. DO YOUR OWN WORK AND SAVE MONEY If you are one of the people who are "sick unto death" of these thrift articles and are utterly weary of reading how to clean your porcelain gas-stove and keep your electric washer in repair. The magazines are so full of helpful hints to the $5,000 and upwards class, that it seems as though a mere person like myself might inquire, "How about poor us? Won't somebody write something for us? How can we, who make up most of the world, live within our incomes?" As nobody has responded as yet, I am going to tell how we manage and, possibly, some one else may be helped thereby. Six years ago, when my husband and I awoke from our honeymoon trance, we found ourselves in California, strangers in a lone land, penniless and jobless. My husband was blessed with neither college education nor profession, but we were both young and undaunted--therefore we pulled through. We rented an apartment, furnished, at $15 per month and buckled in. I might say that the rent didn't have to be paid in advance or we wouldn't have moved in. My soul mate--otherwise husband--worked as a truckman, a taxi driver, a cement lamp-post worker, a chauffeur, a night watchman, a salesman, a cook and a dish-washer. In five years we moved twenty different times, an average of once every three months (not because we wished to skip our rent, but because my husband found jobs in so many different parts of the city). The end of the sixth year has found us located, at last. We get $150 per month and live on that alone. We are buying our own home, a flivver stands in the garage, our house is nicely furnished (a good deal of the furniture we have made ourselves) and we dress and live respectably. I do all my own cooking, washing, ironing, sewing, cleaning, baking and gardening, with a little writing thrown in as a spare-time occupation. No electric machine, $300 gas stove, $700 bedroom set, nor blue-goose stenciled kitchen yet graces our home. No little tea-wagon runs our food to the table. We don't lay by 35 cents in one envelope, $1.25 for electricity in another, nor 63 cents per week for meat in another. We merely save a small portion each month. First, toward our home and the rest we spend or save as we see fit. Our twenty chickens help out a little in meat and eggs, but one whole year passed by before we bought linoleum for kitchen or bath-room. At present we are working on a $7 second-hand writing desk with varnish remover and putty knife and in the end we shall have a very modern, pretty, little, fumed-oak desk for one-seventh the cost of a new one. So, Ladies, get in and do your own work. Forget the servant problem and the money question. Make things yourselves and see how much fun there is in Life. Don't be afraid to soil your hands--cold cream will fix them. Get as much fun out of each day as possible. H. W. P. [Illustration: SOME HOMELY THANKSGIVING VEGETABLES] Seasonable-and-Tested Recipes By Janet M. Hill and Mary D. Chambers In all recipes where flour is used, unless otherwise stated, the flour is measured after sifting once. Where flour is measured by cups, the cup is filled with a spoon, and a level cupful is meant. A tablespoonful or a teaspoonful of any designated material is a LEVEL spoonful. In flour mixtures where yeast is called for, use bread flour; in all other flour mixtures, use cake or pastry flour. Potage Parmentier Cook the well-washed, white stalks of two or three leeks, sliced lengthwise, in two tablespoonfuls of fat in a saucepan, and allow to remain over the fire for five or six minutes, or until slightly colored. Add four large potatoes, pared and sliced, one quart of cold water, and two teaspoonfuls of salt, cover, and cook for twenty minutes after the water boils. Strain out the potatoes and leeks and press through a colander. Thicken the water by adding one-fourth a cup of flour, blended with two tablespoonfuls of butter or a substitute; stir until it has boiled for one minute; add one-half a teaspoonful of white pepper, stir into it the potato purée, and let the whole come to a boil. Pour into the tureen, and add one-half a cup of rich cream, a cup of well-browned croûtons, and a few chervil leaves, or the green leaves of cress or any preferred herb. The addition of the half-cup of rich cream is essential to the soup "parmentier." Potato-and-Peanut Sausages Mix one cup of roasted and fine-ground peanuts with one cup and one-half of highly seasoned mashed potatoes. Add one beaten egg, and form the mixture into small sausage-shaped rolls, rolling each one in flour. Roll on a hot pan, greased with bacon fat, or bake in a very hot oven, until the outside of the sausages is lightly browned. Pile in the center of a dish, and garnish with curls of toasted bacon, placed on a border of shredded lettuce. Roast Turkey Clean, stuff and truss a twelve-pound turkey, that, when cooked, may rest on the wings level on the platter, the drumsticks close to the body. Rub all over with salt and dredge with flour. Cover the breast with thin slices of salt pork. Set on a rack in a baking-pan (a "double roaster" gives best results). Turn often, at first, to sear over and brown evenly. For the first half hour the oven should be hot, then lower the heat and finish the cooking in an oven in which the fat in the pan will not burn. Cook until the joints are easily separated. It will require three hours and a half. Add no water or broth to the pan during cooking. For basting use the fat that comes from the turkey during cooking. Turkey Stuffing Add one teaspoonful of salt, one-fourth a teaspoonful of pepper and one tablespoonful and one-half of poultry seasoning to three cups of cracker crumbs; mix thoroughly and add three-fourths a cup of melted butter. [Illustration: ROAST TURKEY] Garnish the Roast Turkey with Stuffed Onions Parboil eight choice onions about one hour. Remove from the water and cut out a circular piece from the top of each to form cups. Chop, fine, the pieces of onion; add an equal measure of cold, cooked ham, salt and pepper to season, one-fourth a cup, each, of fine, soft crumbs and melted butter and mix thoroughly. Season the inside of the cups with salt, then stuff with the prepared mixture. Bake slowly about half an hour, basting with melted butter. Serve decorated with celery tips. Oyster-and-Onion Purée Steam one pound of white onions, and when tender sift through a colander. Cook one quart of oysters in their liquor until the gills separate; strain, and chop the oysters in a chopping bowl. Return the liquor to the saucepan, and cook with three tablespoonfuls of flour and three tablespoonfuls of softened butter, rubbed together, stirring constantly until well thickened and smooth. Season with one teaspoonful and one-half of salt and one-half a teaspoonful of pepper. Sift into the onion-pulp one-fourth a cup of flour, and stir until blended; add one-fourth a teaspoonful of celery seed and one bayleaf, and mix with the thickened oyster liquor. Stir until the whole comes to a boil and the purée is thick as porridge. Add the chopped oysters and one pint of thin cream, let heat through, and serve with oysterettes, saltines or other plain crackers. Salmon à la Creole Clean and scale a small salmon, stuff with one-half a loaf of stale bread moistened with hot water, seasoned with one-fourth a cup of butter, salt and pepper to taste, and one-half a cup of capers. Mix all well, and bind with one beaten egg. Place the salmon on the rack of a baking-pan in a very hot oven, cover with thin slices of bacon, and let cook until done. Serve on a bed of chopped fresh mushrooms, cooked in a little bouillon, and garnish the dish with small fresh tomatoes. Brother Jonathan Make a mush of yellow cornmeal, and mould in cylindrical moulds, such as baking powder boxes or brown bread moulds. Let stand until next day, and cut into slices. Arrange the slices on a large porcelain pie-plate in pyramidal form, sprinkling each layer with some sharp, hard cheese, grated, and seasoned with a very little red pepper. Sift buttered crumbs freely over the whole; brown in a hot oven, and serve as a vegetable with fish, with sour grape jelly melted and poured over it. Plymouth Succotash Boil, separately, one chicken and four pounds of corned beef. The next day remove meat and fat from both kettles of liquid, combine liquids, season with salt (if needed) and pepper; when boiling add five quarts of hulled corn; remove to slow fire and let simmer three hours. Have ready three pints of New York pea beans that have been soaked twelve hours, boiled until soft and strained through a sieve; add to soup (for thickening). Boil one yellow turnip (or two white turnips), and six potatoes; when done add to succotash. This recipe makes eight quarts. [Illustration: PLYMOUTH SUCCOTASH] [Illustration: NEW ENGLAND SALAD] New England Salad Dress flowerets of cold, cooked cauliflower with oil, salt, pepper and vinegar. From cold, cooked beets remove the top and center portions to make beet cups. Arrange the prepared cauliflower to fill cups, pour over boiled salad dressing and arrange a heart of celery in each filled beet-cup. Guinea Chickens Clean and truss two guinea chickens; place on a bed of sliced, uncooked carrots, potatoes and celery, arranged in the bottom of a casserole--(a large bean-pot serves as well). Sprinkle the chicks with salt and pour over them melted butter; set the cover in place. Bake in a moderate oven one hour and one-quarter, basting every fifteen minutes with melted butter. Add no water to the casserole. [Illustration: GUINEA CHICKENS] Rib Roast of Beef with Yorkshire Pudding Place a rib roast of beef on a rack in a dripping pan; dredge with flour and sear over the outside in a hot oven, then add salt and pepper and drippings and let cook at a low temperature until done, basting every ten minutes. Remove to a platter and serve with Yorkshire pudding. Yorkshire Pudding Sift together one cup and a half of flour, and one-third a teaspoonful of salt; gradually add one cup and one-half of milk, so as to form a smooth batter; then add three eggs, which have been beaten until thick and light; turn into a small, hot dripping pan, the inside of which has been brushed over with roast beef drippings; when well risen in the pan, baste with the hot roast beef drippings. Bake about twenty minutes. Cut into squares and serve around the roast. Apple Mint Jelly for Roast Lamb Cut the apples in quarters, removing imperfections. Barely cover with boiling water, put on a cover and let cook, undisturbed, until soft throughout. Turn into a bag to drain. For a quart of this apple juice set one and one-half pounds of sugar on shallow dishes in the oven to heat. Set the juice over the fire with the leaves from a bunch of mint; let cook twenty minutes, then strain into a clean saucepan. Heat to the boiling point, add the hot sugar and let boil till the syrup, when tested, jellies slightly on a cold dish. Tint with green color-paste very delicately. Have ready three to five custard cups on a cloth in a pan of boiling water. Let the glasses be filled with the water; pour out the water and turn in the jelly. When cooled a little remove to table. (English recipe.) Marinaded Cutlets Cut a pound of the best end of neck of mutton into cutlets, allowing two cutlets for each bone, beat them with a cutlet bat and trim them neatly. Let them soak for an hour in a marinade made by mixing six tablespoonfuls of red wine vinegar, one tablespoonful of olive oil, half a teaspoonful of salt, six bruised peppercorns, a minced onion, a sprig of thyme, and a bayleaf. At the end of the hour drain the cutlets, and dredge them with flour to dry them. Brush over each one with beaten egg, and roll it in bread-crumbs; repeat the egging and breadcrumbing a second time, and, if possible, leave them for an hour for the crumbs to dry on. Half fill a deep pan with frying-fat, and when it is heated, so as to give off a pale blue vapor, place the cutlets carefully in the pan, and when they float on top of the fat and are of a rich brown color, they are sufficiently cooked, and must be taken from the fat and drained on kitchen paper before being served _en couronne_, or on a mound of mashed potatoes, green peas, French beans, or Brussels sprouts. [Illustration: RIB ROAST WITH YORKSHIRE PUDDING] Veal cutlets, fillets of beef, fillets of white fish, or cutlets of cod or hake, are excellent when prepared by the same method. (English recipe.) Thanksgiving Corn Cake Sift together two cups of corn meal, two cups of white flour, four _heaping_ teaspoonfuls of baking powder, one LEVEL teaspoonful of soda, one teaspoonful of salt, and one-half a cup of sugar. Add one cup of sour milk (gradually), three-fourths cup of sour cream, four eggs and one-third a cup of melted butter. [Illustration: THANKSGIVING CORN CAKE] Thanksgiving Pudding Beat the yolks of four eggs; add one pint of soft bread crumbs, one cup of sugar, the grated rind of a lemon, one teaspoonful of salt, and one cup of large table raisins from which the seeds have been removed; mix all together thoroughly, then add one quart of rich milk. Bake in a very moderate oven until firm in the center. When the pudding has cooled somewhat, beat the whites of four eggs dry; beat in half a cup of sugar and spread or pipe the meringue over the pudding; dredge with granulated sugar and let cook in a very moderate oven about fifteen minutes; the oven should be of such heat that the meringue does not color until the last few minutes of cooking. Coffee Fruit Punch Add one-half a cup of fine-ground coffee to one cup of cold water, bring very slowly to a boil, and let simmer for ten minutes. Strain, allow grounds to settle, decant, and add one cup of sugar. Mix one-half a cup of sifted strawberry preserve with the juice of two lemons, the juice of three oranges and the grated rind of one, and half a cup of pineapple juice. Let the whole stand together for half an hour; then strain, add the coffee, a quart or more of Vichy, or any preferred sparkling water, and serve in tall glasses filled one-third full with shaved ice; garnish each with a thin strip of candied angelica. [Illustration: SWEET CIDER FRAPPÉ] Sweet Cider Frappé Make a syrup by boiling one cup of sugar and two cups of water fifteen minutes; add one quart of sweet cider and one-half a cup of lemon juice; when cool freeze--using equal parts of ice and salt. Serve with roast turkey or roast pork. Fig-and-Cranberry Pie Chop one-half a pound of figs and cook until tender in a pint of water. Add a pint of cranberries, and cook until they pop. Mix one cup of sugar with four tablespoonfuls of flour and stir into the fig-and-cranberry mixture; let boil, remove from fire, and stir in two tablespoonfuls of butter and the juice of one-half a lemon. Put into a pastry shell, arrange strips of paste in a basket pattern over the top, and bake until these are browned. Dry Deviled Parsnips Wash and scrape--not pare--three large parsnips; cut in halves, lengthwise, and place, cut side uppermost, on the grate of a rather hot oven to bake for thirty to forty minutes, or until soft and lightly browned. Soften one-half a cup of butter, without melting it, and rub into it the following mixture: Two teaspoonfuls of salt, four tablespoonfuls of dry mustard, one-half a teaspoonful of cayenne, one teaspoonful of white pepper, and flour enough to stiffen the paste. When the parsnips are cooked make four slanting cuts in each of the halves, and fill each with as much of the paste as it will hold. Spread over the flat side with the remainder of the paste, arrange on the serving dish, sift fine buttered crumbs over them, and place under the gas flame, or on the upper rack of an oven until crumbs are brown. King's Pudding With Apple-Jelly Sauce Soak, over-night, one-half a cup of well-washed rice, and cook in one pint of milk in double boiler until very tender. Mix this with three cups of apple sauce, well-sweetened and flavored with cinnamon. Add the beaten yolks of two eggs, one ounce, each, of candied citron and orange peel, very fine-chopped, and one-half a cup of raisins. Add, the last thing, the whites of the eggs, beaten to the stiffest possible froth. Line a deep dish with a good, plain paste, pour in the pudding, bake until both paste and pudding top are brown, invert on serving dish and pour the sauce over it. Apple-Jelly Sauce Beat one-half a cup of apple jelly until it is like a smooth batter; gradually add two tablespoonfuls of melted butter, the juice of one lemon and one-half the grated rind, and a few gratings of nutmeg. Set into a saucepan of boiling water until ready to use, then beat well and pour over the pudding. [Illustration: CRANBERRY TART] Cranberry Tart Spread a round of paste over an inverted pie plate, prick the paste with a fork eight times. Bake to a delicate brown. Remove the paste from the plate, wash the plate and set the pastry inside. When cold fill with a cold, cooked cranberry filling and cover the filling with a top pastry crust, made by cutting paste to a paper pattern and baking in a pan. Arrange tart just before serving. Cooked Cranberry Filling Mix together three level tablespoonfuls of cornstarch, three-fourths a teaspoonful of salt and one cup and one-half of sugar; pour on one cup and one-half of boiling water and stir until boiling, then add one-third a cup of molasses, two teaspoonfuls of butter and three cups of cranberries, chopped fine. Let simmer fifteen minutes. Pumpkin Fanchonettes Mix together one cup and a half of dry, sifted pumpkin, half a cup of sugar, two eggs, two tablespoonfuls of molasses, one tablespoonful of ginger, two tablespoonfuls of melted butter, one teaspoonful of cinnamon, one-fourth a teaspoonful of salt, and one cup of rich milk. Pour into small tins lined with pastry, and bake about twenty-five minutes. Serve cold; just before serving decorate with whipped cream. [Illustration: PUMPKIN FANCHONETTES] Pilgrim Cookies Let soak overnight one cup of seedless raisins, then drain and dry on a cloth. Cream one-third a cup of butter; beat in one cup of brown sugar, one tablespoonful of milk, and two eggs, beaten light. Add the raisins, and one cup of flour, sifted with one-half a teaspoonful, each, of nutmeg and cinnamon and two teaspoonfuls and one-half of baking powder. When thoroughly mixed, add one-half a cup of graham flour, unsifted, and one-half a cup of bran, unsifted. [Illustration: PILGRIM COOKIES] Pyramid Birthday Cake Bake any good layer cake or other simple cake mixture in one or two thin sheets, in a large pan. When done cut into as many graduated circles as the child is years old. Ice each circle, top and sides, with any good cake icing, either white or tinted, and lay one above the other with layers of jelly or preserves between slices. Around each layer arrange a decoration of fresh or candied fruits of bright colors, glacéed nuts, candied rose petals or violets, bits of angelica, or any other effective decoration. Let the cake stand on a handsomely decorated dish, and small flags be inserted in the topmost layer. [Illustration: FRUIT AND MELONS] Stirred Brown Bread Measure three cups of graham flour into a large mixing-bowl; add one cup of bran, and sift on to these one cup and one-half of white flour, to which one and one-fourth a teaspoonful of salt has been added. Stir together until mixed. Dissolve one teaspoonful of baking soda in a tablespoonful of hot water, and add to two cups of buttermilk. Melt two tablespoonfuls of butter and one of any preferred substitute, mix with one-half a cup of molasses, stir into the buttermilk, and add all to the dry ingredients, stirring vigorously. Lastly, add one-half a compressed yeast cake to the batter, and stir again until the yeast is thoroughly incorporated with the batter, which should be very stiff. Place in a greased bread pan, cover, set in a warm place until batter has risen to top of pan or doubled in bulk. Bake one hour in an oven with gradually increasing heat. This bread keeps fresh for a long time, and is particularly good sliced thin for sandwiches. Swedish Pancakes With Aigre-Doux Sauce Beat, until light, the yolks of six eggs; add one-half a teaspoonful of salt, one teaspoonful of soda, dissolved in one tablespoonful of vinegar, then two cups of sifted flour, alternately, with the beaten whites of the eggs, and if necessary add enough milk to make a thin batter. Pour a small ladleful at a time on the griddle; spread each cake, when cooked, with raspberry jam, roll up like a jelly roll, pile on a hot platter, dust over with powdered sugar, and serve with each one a spoonful of Aigre-Doux Sauce. Aigre-Doux Sauce Add to two cups of sour cream the juice and fine-grated rind of one large lemon. Stir in enough sugar just to develop a sweet taste, one-half a cup or more, and beat hard and long with a Dover beater until the sauce is quite light. Sautéed Cucumbers and Tomatoes Pare four large cucumbers and cut in quarter-inch slices; season by sprinkling with salt and pepper, then dip in beaten egg, and afterwards in fine, sifted crumbs. Proceed in the same manner with two firm tomatoes, removing the skin by dipping first into boiling water, then into cold, and rubbing the skin off. The tomatoes should be cut in half-inch slices. Heat a large spider until very hot; add two or more tablespoonfuls of dripping or other fat, and sauté in this, first the cucumbers, then the tomatoes, turning the slices when browned on one side, and cooking until crisped. Serve in a hot vegetable dish. Skirt Steak, with Raisin Sauce Make a rich stuffing by chopping together three-fourths a pound of veal, one-half a pound of ham, and an ounce of beef suet or other fat. Add the grated rind of a small lemon, and a teaspoonful of dried, mixed herbs, or of kitchen bouquet, two beaten eggs, a grate of nutmeg, and one cup of cream. Cook all together over hot water until mixture is the consistency of custard; thicken further with fine bread crumbs, and let cool. Divide a two-pound skirt steak into halves, crosswise, spread the stuffing over both parts, roll up each one and tie. Let steam for half an hour, then put into a hot oven to finish cooking and brown. Serve with Raisin Sauce. Raisin Sauce for Skirt Steak Add one-half a cup of seeded raisins to one pint of cold water, set over fire, bring slowly to a boil and let simmer, gently, for fifteen minutes. Blend two tablespoonfuls of flour with one-half a teaspoonful of salt and one-fourth a teaspoonful of white pepper, and stir this into two scant tablespoonfuls of melted butter or butter substitute; add to the raisins and water, and let boil, keeping stirred, for three minutes. Remove from fire and add the juice of one-half a lemon or two tablespoonfuls of vinegar. Boudin Blanc Cook a dozen small onions, sliced, in a saucepan with one cup of sweet leaf-lard. While cooking put through the meat chopper one-half a pound, each, of fresh pork and the dark and white meat of a fowl or chicken. Add to saucepan containing onions and lard, and stir in enough fine bread crumbs to make the whole the consistency of a soft dough. Add seasoning of salt and pepper with a spoonful of mixed dried herbs. Lastly, add one cup of sweet cream and three well-beaten eggs, and stir the whole until the eggs are set. Stuff this into pig entrails, making links six inches long. Keep stored in a cool place, and cook like sausage. Or the boudin may be packed into jars, and sliced or cut into dice and sautéed when cold. Seasonable Menus for Week in November SUNDAY Breakfast Oranges Corn Flakes with Hot Milk Codfish Balls Buttered Toast Marmalade Coffee Dinner Roast Leg of Lamb Mashed Potatoes Spinach with Egg Creamed Turnips Celery Salad Date Soufflé Coffee Supper Oyster Stew Crackers Lettuce-and-Peanut Butter Sandwiches Soft Gingerbread Cocoa MONDAY Breakfast Malt Breakfast Food, Top Milk Scrambled Eggs with Tomato Graham Muffins Coffee Luncheon Potage Parmentier Savory Hash, Meat and Potatoes Tea Tarts Russian Tea Dinner Planked Steak, Parkerhouse Style Head Lettuce King's Pudding, with Apple Jelly Sauce Black Coffee TUESDAY Breakfast Dates Gluten Grits, Cream Baked Potatoes Bacon Graham Toast, Butter Coffee Luncheon Salmon à la Creole Pulled Bread Sweet Potato Croquettes Pears in Syrup Milk or Tea Dinner Stuffed Leg of Pork Mashed Potatoes Apple Sauce Fig-and-Cranberry Pie Coffee WEDNESDAY Breakfast Winter Pears Wheatena, Milk Pork-and-Potato Hash Raised Pancakes, Syrup Coffee Luncheon Oyster-and-Onion Purée Crusty Rolls Apple-and-Nut Salad Cocoa Dinner Skirt Steak with Raisin Sauce Dry Deviled Parsnips Baked Sweet Potatoes Cherry Pie Coffee THURSDAY Breakfast Cream of Wheat, Cream Tomato Omelet Stirred Brown Bread Coffee Luncheon Potato-and-Peanut Sausages Cabbage-and-Celery Salad, with Cheese Strawberry Gelatine Jelly Tea Dinner Boiled Tongue Steamed Potatoes Creamed Carrots Brussels Sprouts Apple Pie à la Mode Coffee FRIDAY Breakfast Grapefruit Cracked Wheat, Milk Creamed Finnan Haddie Hashed Brown Potatoes Popovers Coffee Luncheon Frumenty with Cream Escaloped Chipped Beef and Potatoes Chocolate Layer Cake Café au Lait Dinner Halibut Steaks Brother Jonathan Creamed Cabbage Chow-Chow Apricot Puffs with Custard Sauce Coffee SATURDAY Breakfast Gravenstein Apples Quaker Oats, Milk Scrambled Eggs with Bacon Steamed Brown Bread Coffee Luncheon Purée of Baked Beans Castilian Salad (Pineapple, Nuts, Apples, Grapes, Celery) Swedish Pancakes with Aigre-Doux Sauce Chocolate Dinner Veal Stew Browned Sweet Potatoes Lima Beans in Tomato Sauce Leaf Lettuce with Fr. Dressing Brown Betty with Foamy Sauce Coffee Menus for Thanksgiving Dinners I _Three-Course Dinner for Small Family in Servantless House_ Roast Chicken, stuffed with Chopped Celery and Oysters Baked Sweet Potatoes Boiled Onions Salad (Fine chopped apples and nuts in red apple cups) Cream Dressing Mince or Squash Pie à la mode Sweet Cider Coffee II _A Simple Company Dinner of Six Courses_ Celery Clam Bouillon, Saltines Ripe Olives Roast, Chestnut-Stuffed Turkey, Giblet Sauce Buttered Asparagus Glazed Sweet Potatoes Moulded Cranberry Jelly Chicken Salad in Salad Rolls Thanksgiving Pudding Hard Sauce Chocolate Ice Cream Strawberry Sauce Assorted Fruit Coffee III _A Formal Company Dinner. Eight Courses_ Curled Celery Oyster Soup, Bread Sticks Radish Rosettes Turbans of Flounder Hollandaise Sauce Potato Straws Olives Crusty Rolls Salted Nuts Capon à la Creme (Stuffing of Potatoes, Mushrooms, Chestnuts, etc.) Mashed Potatoes Green Pea Timbales Cranberry Sauce Sweet Cider Frappé Venison Steaks Currant Jelly Sauce Baked Parsnips Apple-and-Grape Salad Macaroon Pudding Frozen Mince Pie Hot Chocolate Sauce Glacéed Walnuts Fruit Black Coffee IV _Elaborate Formal Dinner. Ten Courses_ Fruit Cocktail Oysters on Half-shell Brown Bread-and-Butter Sandwiches Quartered Lemons Clear Bouillon, Oysterettes Radishes Celery Boiled Halibut Potato Balls in Parsley Sauce Sweet Pickles Cauliflower au Gratin Braised Turkey or Capon Bread Stuffing Giblet Gravy Duchesse Potatoes Spinach Crystallized Ginger Salted Pecans Pineapple Fritters, Lemon Sauce Granite of Cider and Apples Cutlets of Duck, with Chopped Celery Orange Salad Pumpkin Pie Raisin and Cranberry Tarts Chocolate Parfait Almond Cakes Nuts Raisins Bonbons Candied Orange Peel Black Coffee Concerning Breakfasts By Alice E. Whitaker A certain Englishman who breakfasted with the Washington family in 1794 wrote of the occasion: "Mrs. Washington, herself, made tea and coffee for us. On the table were two small plates of sliced tongue and dry toast, bread and butter, but no broiled fish, as is the general custom." However sparing the mistress of Mt. Vernon might have been, it was the usual custom in old times to eat a hearty breakfast of meat or fish and potato, hot biscuits, doughnuts, griddle cakes and sometimes even pie was added. A section of hot mince pie was always considered a fitting ending to the winter morning meal in New England, at least. When Charles Dickens was in the United States, in 1842, he stopped at the old Tremont house in Boston. In his "American Notes," which followed his visit to this country, he wrote critically of the American breakfast, as follows: "And breakfast would have been no breakfast unless the principal dish were a deformed beefsteak with a great flat bone in the center, swimming in hot butter and sprinkled with the very blackest of pepper." For a time my household included a colored cook, who, according to local custom, went to her own home every night. Invariably before leaving she came to me with the short and abrupt question, "What's for?" This experience taught me the difficulty of planning breakfasts off hand. More than one beginner in housekeeping wonders whether a light breakfast of little but a roll and coffee is more healthful than one of several courses. It is an old American idea that luncheon or supper may be light, dinner varied and heavier, but breakfast must be wholesome and nourishing. This is based on the belief that it is natural for man and beast to wake up in the morning with a desire for food and unnatural to try to do the hardest work of the day with but a pretence at eating. About twenty years ago there was much talk of the alleged healthfulness of going without breakfast entirely. For a time this plan was the object of much discussion and experiment by medical and scientific men and workers in general. The late Edward Everett Hale was a strong opponent to abstinence from breakfast by brain workers, while those who labored with hand and muscle looked with little favor on the morning fast. Finally the no-breakfast idea went the way of most fads in food. As a compromise between the extremes of going without any breakfast, and the old-time, over-hearty meal of several courses, there came into fashion the simple meal of fruit, cereal and eggs. This is to be commended, if the egg, or its substitute in food value, is not omitted. Too often a sloppy cereal is washed down rapidly with a cup of coffee and called sufficient. Sometimes the ready-to-eat cereal and the milk bottle left at the kitchen door include the entire preparation for the morning meal. The adaptability of this quick breakfast, and its ease of preparation, keep it in favor, but filling the stomach with a cereal, from which some of its best elements have been taken, means, for women folks at home, placing the coffee pot on the range to warm up the cup that will stop that "gone" feeling so common after a near-breakfast. The man at work might once have found solace in a glass of beer; now, perhaps, he smokes an extra cigarette. It is well understood that children grow listless and dull before noon, when an insufficient breakfast is eaten. One who has breakfast leisurely at nine o'clock may be satisfied with a roll and a cup of hot drink, but a commuter with a trip ahead to office or shop, and the farmer who must make an early start in the day, cannot rely on light, quickly digested food in the morning. Their energy and working capacity will slow down long before noon. Objection is sometimes made to a good, sustaining breakfast because of a distaste for food in the morning. In such a case, look to the quality or quantity of the night meal; it may be too heavy or indigestible. Between a breakfast with warmed-over meats, and one without meat, especially if eggs are substituted, the choice should be given to the latter. Twice-cooked meats, however pleasing they may be to the palate, are not easy to digest. They serve merely as a way to use left-overs, which good management will keep to the minimum. When selecting fruits for breakfast, the fact must not be overlooked that the starch of cereals and acid fruits, like a sour orange, often disagree. When apples are plentiful nothing is better than this fruit when baked, but in cities the banana frequently costs less and it stands at the head of all fruits in food value. When perfectly ripe it has about 12 per cent of sugar, but as it is picked green, the fruit sold in the markets is often but partially ripe and is more easily assimilated, if baked like the apple; it then becomes a valuable breakfast food. It is a common mistake in a meatless breakfast to use too large a proportion of cereal. While the standard cereal foods, when dry, are from two-thirds to three-quarters starch, with the balance made up of a little protein, fat, water, fibre and a trace of mineral matter, it should not be forgotten that while cooking they absorb several times their bulk of water, which reduces the food value of the product. Oatmeal and corn meal are best adapted for winter use because they contain a little more fat than wheat or rice, which are suitable for summer diet. Eggs are the most available substitute for meat at breakfast and it is doubtful economy to omit them, except in times of extreme high prices. They are not essential in all desserts and saving in their use should begin at that point. Eggs may be cooked in many ways so that they need never become a monotonous fare. All kinds of fish are an excellent substitute for meat, and, as prepared for the table, nearly equal beef and mutton, in the amount of protein, which is the element missed in a non-meat diet, unless it be carefully planned. Breakfasts without Meat The following are adapted to different seasons and the beverage may be selected to suit the taste. 1. Strawberries, eggs baked in ramekins, oatmeal muffins. 2. Fruit, cheese omelet, rice griddle cakes. 3. Oranges, codfish balls, wheat muffins. 4. Oatmeal, baked bananas, scrambled eggs, rice muffins. 5. Cereal, hashed browned potatoes, date gems. 6. Oranges, soft boiled eggs, lyonnaise potatoes, dry toast. 7. Cereal with dates, whole wheat muffins, orange marmalade. 8. Stewed prunes, French omelet, creamed potatoes, dry toast. 9. Grapefruit, broiled salt codfish, baked potatoes, corn muffins. 10. Fresh pineapple, broiled fresh mackerel, creamed potatoes, French bread. 11. Sliced bananas, omelet with peas, rusked bread. Breakfasts with Meat 1. Fresh apple sauce, pork chops, stewed potatoes, graham muffins. 2. Dried peaches, stewed, broiled honeycomb tripe, escalloped potatoes, reheated rolls. 3. Fruits, minced mutton, potato puffs, rice griddle cakes, lemon syrup. 4. Baked apples, baked sausages, hashed potatoes, corn cakes. 5. Baked rhubarb and raisins, ham omelet, bread-crumb griddle cakes, caramel syrup. 6. Melon or berries, broiled ham, shirred eggs, creamed potatoes. 7. Oranges, broiled beef cakes, French fried potatoes, toast. 8. Steamed rice, sliced tomatoes, bacon and eggs, rye muffins. 9. Berries, broiled chicken with cream sauce, fried potato cakes, muffins. 10. Cereal with syrup, scalded tomatoes with melted butter, baked hash, dry toast. 11. Melon, veal cutlet, cream sauce, baked potatoes, corn bread. Some Recipes for Preparing Poultry By Kurt Heppe Fowls should be divided into four classes, according to their uses. The uses are controlled by the age of the fowl. What is suitable for one dish is not suitable for others. In fowls the age of the bird controls the use to which it can be put. This is something the caterer and the housewife must remember. A young bird can be distinguished from an old one by the pliability of the tip of the breastbone. When this tip bends under pressure, then the bird is young. If it is hard and unyielding, then it is old. Very old birds are used for soup and for fricassée. Medium-aged birds are used for roasts. Spring chickens are used for broilers and for sautéed dishes. Very young chicks are used for frying in deep fat; for this purpose they are dipped in a thin batter, or else in flour, and in eggs mixed with milk and afterward in breadcrumbs. These chicks, and also spring chickens, are used for casserole dishes and for cocottes (covered earthen ware containers, in which the fowls are roasted in the oven). The liver of fowls is used in different ways; it makes an excellent dish. It is best when sautéed with black butter. Some of the fine French ragouts consist mostly of chicken livers. With omelettes they make an incomparable garnish. In very high-class establishments the wings and breast are often separated from the carcass of the fowl and served in manifold ways. Sometimes the entire fowl is freed of bones, without destroying the appearance of the bird. These latter dishes are best adapted for casserole service and for cold jellied offerings. Capons are castrated male fowls. They fatten readily and their flesh remains juicy and tender, owing to the indolence of the birds. The meat of animals is tenderest when the animal is kept inactive. For this reason stall-feeding is often resorted to. When the animal has no opportunity to exercise its muscles the latter degenerate, and nourishment, instead of being converted into energy, is turned into fat. Range birds and animals are naturally tough; this is especially true of the muscles. Large supply houses now regularly basket their fowls for about two weeks before putting them on the market. During this time they are fed on grain soaked in milk. This produces a white, juicy flesh. When a bird is to be roasted it should be trussed. This is done by forcing the legs back against the body (after placing the bird on its back); a string is then tied across the bird's body, holding the legs down. The wings are best set firmly against the breast by sticking a wooden skewer through the joint and into the bony part of the carcass, where the skewer will hold against the bones. In preparing birds for the oven their breasts should be protected by slices of bacon. Otherwise they will shrivel and dry before the birds are cooked. For broiling, the birds are cut through in the back, in such a manner that they quasi-hinge in the breast; they are then flattened so they will lie evenly in a double broiling iron; for this purpose the heavy backbone is removed. Stuffed Poularde After trussing the bird rub it with lemon so it will keep of good color; now cover the breast with thin slices of bacon (these can be tied on). The poularde is put into a deep, thick saucepan and cooked with butter and aromatics in the oven. When it is nearly done it is moistened with poultry stock. If this stock reduces too fast, then it must be renewed. It is finally added to the sauce. These fowls may be stuffed with a pilaff of rice. This is prepared as follows: Half an onion is chopped and fried in two ounces of butter. Before it acquires color half a pound of Carolina rice is added. This is stirred over the fire until the rice has partly taken up the butter; then it is moistened with consommé (one quart); and covered and cooked in a moderate oven for fifteen minutes. It is now combined with a little cream, a quarter a pound of dice of goose liver and some dice of truffles. The rice should not be entirely cooked by the time it is stuffed into the bird; the cooking is completed inside the bird. The cream is added to provide moisture for the rice to take up. Instead of cream one may use consommé, and the truffles and fat liver may be left out, if too expensive. The bird is served with a suitable sauce. The best sauce for this purpose is Sauce Suprême, and is prepared as follows: Put two pints of clear poultry stock and some mushroom-liquor into a sauté-pan. Reduce two-thirds. While this is going on prepare some poultry velouté by bringing some butter in a pan to bubble, and adding some flour. This is brought to a boil while stirring constantly. The flour must not be allowed to color. Now, gradually, add some poultry-stock, stirring all the while with a whisk. Salt, pepper and nutmeg are added. This is simmered on the side of the fire, and then strained. Now add one pint of this velouté to the suprême sauce; reduce the whole on an open fire, while constantly stirring. Gradually add half a pint of good cream and finish with a little butter. Sautéed Chicken Young chickens should be used for this purpose. Feel the breast bone; if it bends beneath pressure the bird is right. Empty, singe and clean, and disjoint the bird. This is done by cutting the skin at the joints and loosening the bones with a knife. The wings are cut off in such manner that each holds half of the breast; the pinions are entirely cut off; the different pieces are seasoned with salt and pepper; now heat some clarified butter in a sauté-pan; when it is very hot insert the pieces of chicken and let them color quickly; turn them over, from time to time, so as to get a uniform color; cover the utensil and put it in a fairly hot oven. The legs are cooked for about ten minutes more than the breast and wings. The latter are kept hot separately. When all pieces are done, they are dished on a platter and kept hot in the oven; the pan is now moistened with mushroom-liquor, or chicken stock, and again put on the fire; only a very little moistening is put in the pan. As soon as it boils swing it around the pan and then add to it, gradually, the sauce that is to be served. This swinging in the pan dissolves the flavor, which solidifies in the bottom of the pan; it greatly improves the sauce. A simple sauce for sautéed chicken is nut butter, that is, butter browned in the pan. This may be varied by flavoring it with a crushed garlic-clove. An addition of fine herbs will further improve it. A dark tomato sauce may also be served. A good garnish for sautéed chicken is large dice of boletus mushrooms, sautéed in garlic butter; also dice of raw potatoes sautéed in clarified butter, and again fresh tomatoes cut up and sautéed in butter. Egg-plants are also excellent for a garnish. Sautéed chicken may be baked and served in the cocotte. Poulet en Casserole Bourgeoise The chicken is trussed; the breast is covered with strips of bacon and put into a deep, thick saucepan. It is colored in the oven, and when nearly done is transferred to a casserole. It is now moistened with some chicken-stock and a little white wine. This moistening is used in the basting, and after being freed of fat, added to the sauce. A few minutes before the fowl is done bouquets of fresh vegetables are added to the chicken, in individual heaps, and the chicken is then served, either with a sauce, or else with an addition of butter. It should be carved in sight of the guests. Chicken Pie A fowl is cooked (boiled) with flavoring vegetables until done, and is then cut up as for fricassée; the pieces are seasoned with salt and pepper and sprinkled with chopped onions, a few mushroom-buttons and some chopped parsley. The pieces are now put into a pie-dish, legs undermost, some thinly-sliced bacon is added and some potatoes Parisienne (spooned with the special potato spoon). The pie-dish is now filled two-thirds with chicken velouté (chicken-stock thickened with flour and egg-yolks), and a pie crust is laid over all, pressed to the edges of the dish and trimmed off. The crust is slit open (so the steam can escape), it should be painted with egg-yolk, and be baked for one and a half hours in a moderate oven. Suprême de Volaille Jeanette Of a poached cold fowl the suprêmes (boneless wing and breast in one piece) are loosened and trimmed to oval shape. They are covered with white chaudfroid sauce, by putting the pieces on a wire tray and pouring the sauce over while still liquid. They are decorated with tarragon leaves. In a square, flat pan a half-inch layer of aspic is laid. On this slices of goose liver are superimposed (after having been trimmed to the shape of the suprêmes); the suprêmes are now put on top of the fat liver, and then covered with half-melted chicken jelly. When thoroughly cooled and ready to serve, a square piece is cut out of the now solid jelly around the suprêmes. The suprême is thus served incrusted in a square block of thick jelly; the dish is decorated with greens. Polly's Thanksgiving Party By Ella Shannon Bowles The idea for the party came to Polly one night as she was washing the dinner dishes, and that very evening she waved away the boys' objection that Thanksgiving was a family affair pure and simple. "I'm not planning to have any one in for dinner," she said, "though there's nothing that would suit me better, if the apartment boasted a larger dining room. But there are three girls in my Sunday School class that can't possibly go home this year, and I've no doubt you boys could find somebody that won't be invited anywhere. Thanksgiving is such a cheerless place in a boarding house! If we ask a few young people in for a party in the evening, it will liven things up a bit for them, and I think it will be pretty good fun for us, don't you?" In the end Polly had her way, and just a week before Thanksgiving, she sent invitations to three girls and to two boys whom Rupert and Harry suggested. Polly searched the shops for a card of two-eyed white buttons of the size of ten cent pieces. She carefully sewed a button on the upper part of a correspondence card, added eyebrows, nose and mouth with India ink, copied a body and cap from Palmer Cox's "Brownie Book," painted the drawing brown, and behold, a saucy brownie grinned at her from the invitation. Underneath the picture, she carefully printed a jingle. "This Thanksgiving Brownie brings a message so gay, To visit our house on Thanksgiving Day, To help celebrate with all kinds of good cheer The 'feast of the harvest' at the end of the year." The boys took a walk into the country on Thanksgiving morning and came laden with sprays of high-bush cranberries. These, with the bunches of chrysanthemums which they bought, and Polly's fern and palm, gave the small living room a festive appearance. Assisted by her brothers, Polly served the dinner early. After clearing the dining room table, she placed a pumpkin jack-o-lantern in the center, and arranged around it piles of apples, grapes, and oranges. After the guests had been introduced to each other, Polly passed each one a paper plate containing a picture, cut and jumbled into small pieces, and a tiny paper of paste and a toothpick. Each girl and boy was asked to put the "pi" together and paste it on the inside of the plate. When arranged, the pictures were found to be of Thanksgiving flavor. "Priscilla at the Wheel," "The Pilgrims Going to Church," "The First Thanksgiving," and others of the same type. To the person making his "pi" first a small and delicious mince pie was awarded. Pencils and paper were then passed. On one slip was written, "What I have to be thankful for," on the other, "Why I am thankful for it." The slips were collected, mixed up, and distributed again. Each guest was asked to read the first slip handed him with the answer. The result caused much laughter. This was followed by a modification of the famous "donkey game." Polly had painted a huge picture of a bronze turkey, but minus the tail, and this was pinned to the wall. Real turkey feathers with pins carefully thrust through the quills were handed about, and each guest was blindfolded and turned about in turn. To the one who successfully pinned a feather in the tail was given a turkey-shaped box of candy, and the consolation prize was a copy of "Chicken-licken." A pumpkin-hunt came next. Tiny yellow and green cardboard pumpkins were concealed about the apartment. The yellow pumpkins counted five and the green two points. At the end of the search a small pumpkin scooped out, and filled with small maple sugar hearts, was presented to the guest having the highest score, and a toy book of, "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater" was awarded to the unfortunate holding the lowest score. Polly had determined to keep the refreshments very simple. The day before Thanksgiving she made an easy salad dressing by beating two eggs, adding one-half a cup of cider vinegar, two tablespoonfuls of sugar, one teaspoonful of mustard and one-half a teaspoonful of salt, and a tablespoonful of melted butter. She placed the ingredients in a bowl, set in a dish of water on the front of the stove, and when they thickened she removed it from the fire and thinned with cream. To make sandwiches, she mixed the dressing with minced turkey, added half a fine-chopped pepper, and spread the mixture between dainty slices of bread. The sugared doughnuts she made by beating two eggs, adding one cup of sugar, one cup of sour milk, three tablespoonfuls of melted butter and flour, sifted with one-half a teaspoonful of soda and two teaspoonfuls of baking powder, to make the mixture thick enough to roll without sticking to the moulding board. They were cut with a small cutter, fried in deep, hot fat, and sugared plentifully. Rupert contributed "Corn Popped in a Kettle." A large spoonful of lard and a teaspoonful of salt were placed in the bottom of a large kettle over a hot fire. A cup of shelled popcorn was added and stirred briskly with a mixing spoon. When the kernels began to pop, the kettle was covered and shaken rapidly, back and forth, until filled with fluffy, white popcorn. With the fruit and "grape-juice lemonade," the sandwiches, doughnuts and popcorn made a pleasing "spread," Polly felt. She served everything on paper plates and used paper napkins, decorated with Thanksgiving designs. To Make a Tiny House Oh, Little House, if thou a home would'st be Teach me thy lore, be all in all to me. Show me the way to find the charm That lies in every humble rite and daily task within thy walls. Then not alone for thee, but for the universe itself, Shall I have lived and glorified my home. _Ruth Merton._ Home Ideas and Economies Contributions to this department will be gladly received. Accepted items will be paid for at reasonable rates. Vegetable Tarts and Pies Elizabeth Goose of Boston bestowed a great blessing upon American posterity when she induced her good man, Thomas Fleet, to publish, in 1719, "The Mother Goose Melodies," many of which rhymes dated back to a similar publication printed in London two hundred years before. Is it strange that, with this ancestral nursery training, the cry against the use of pastry goes unheeded, when as children, we, too, have sung to us, over and over, the songs of tarts and pies? The word tart comes from the Latin word _tortus_, because tarts were originally in twisted shapes, and every country seems to have adopted them into their national menus. That they were toothsome in those early days is shown in these same nursery rhymes, and, that tarts seemed to have been relished by royalty and considered worthy of theft is evinced in the rhymes, "The Queen of Hearts she made some tarts." and, "Little King Boggen he built a fine hall, Pie-crust and pastry-crust that was the wall." Again this ancient lore speaks of "Five and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," and, too, there was that child wonder, "Little Jack Horner" who, with the same unerring instinct of a water wizard with a willow twig, could, by the sole means of his thumb, locate and extricate, upon the tip of the same, a plum from the Christmas pie. American tarts and pies are in a class of their own. Pies were very closely allied to pioneer, and the Colonial housewife of early days was forced to concoct fillings out of sweetened vegetables, such as squash, sweet potatoes, and even some were made of vinegar. Yet the children still doted on these tempting tarts, pies and turnovers, for were they not trotted in babyhood on a "Cock horse to Banbury Cross, To see what Tommy can buy: A penny white loaf, a penny white cake, And a two-penny apple pie." The next time you have a few varieties of vegetables left over, or wish a dainty luncheon side dish, try making a tray of vegetable tarts with various fillings, and they will prove as fascinating to choose from as a tray of French pastries. While I have worked out these modern recipes in tempting ways of serving left-overs using common vegetables, I will lay all pastry honors to our fore-mothers, who passed on to us the art of pie-making. Proof as to the harmlessness of pies in diet is shown in the fine constitution of our American doughboy, who is certainly a great credit to the heritage of pastry handed down by the Daughters of the American Revolution. The moral of this discourse is that, "The child is father of the man," and men dote on pies. Potato Tarts à la Gratin Line round muffin pans with pastry circles as for other preserve tarts, and fill with the following: Dice cold-boiled potatoes, season with salt and pepper, moisten with white sauce, made of two tablespoonfuls of flour, two tablespoonfuls of lard, one cup of milk, one-half a teaspoonful salt. Mix with this grated cheese. Fill the shells and sprinkle grated cheese on top. Bake a light brown. Baked Onion Dumplings Parboil medium-sized onions in salted water. Cut half way down in quarters, add salt, butter, and pepper. Place each on a square of biscuit dough or pastry, rolled thin. Bring together opposite corners, twist, and place in a moderate oven to bake the onion tender. Serve with white sauce. Fresh Tomato Tart Salad With a round cooky cutter make rounds of pastry. Cut an equal number with the doughnut cutter. Prick, sprinkle lightly with grated cheese and bake a light brown. Place a plain shell on a crisp lettuce leaf, add a slice of tomato, not larger, on top. Then pour on a little mayonnaise and place on top the tart shell with a hole in the center. Serve at once. Green Tomato Mince Pie One peck of green tomatoes, put through a food chopper. Boil, drain and add as much water as juice drained out. Scald and drain again. Add water as before, scald and redrain. This time add half as much water, then the following:-- 3 pounds brown sugar 2 pounds raisins 2 tablespoonfuls nutmeg 2 tablespoonfuls cinnamon 2 tablespoonfuls cloves 2 tablespoonfuls allspice 2 tablespoonfuls salt Boil all together, and add one cup of vinegar. Cook till thick as desired. Put in jars and seal. To one pint of this mixture add one cup of chopped apple and the juice and rind, grated or ground. Sweeten to taste, fill crust and bake as the usual mince pie. Evaporated apples may be used, but grind before soaking and do not cook. These pies will not harm children, and are very inexpensive, as compared to those made of mincemeat. Plum Tomato Preserves Turnovers Make a circle as big as a saucer, or a square equal in area. Fill the center with plum tomato preserve and fold over matching edges, either as a half circle, or a triangle. Prick and bake. Turnovers are especially ideal as pies for fitting into lunch boxes, and may be made of any sweetened vegetable preserve for school lunches. King Cabbage Tarts Use cabbage, which has been boiled in salted water and seasoned with salt and pepper to taste. Make a white sauce and pour over, mixing well with the cabbage. Fill round muffin pans lined with pastry circles, sprinkle with cheese over the top and bake. Carrots may be used the same way, omitting the cheese and using latticed strips of pastry over the top. These will be hardly recognizable as such common vegetables. M. K. S. New Ways of Using Milk While probably the best way of using milk is to drink it in its raw or pasteurized state, many children and adults will not use it in that form. In that case, the problem is to disguise or flavor the milk in some way so that the food value will not be changed or destroyed, and yet be more palatable than the natural product. It has been found that children will drink flavored, sweetened milk when they will simply not touch pure milk. In order to demonstrate how universal the craving for sweetened, cold drinks has become, and how easy it is for the milkmen to cater to this demand, Prof. J. L. Sammis of the Wisconsin College of Agriculture conducted a booth at the 1921 Wisconsin state fair and dispensed milk in twenty-five new, pleasing, and attractive ways over a soda fountain. Thousands of these milk drinks were consumed, and a report from a Tennessee county fair also revealed that 10,000 similar drinks were sold there by an enterprising dairyman. There is nothing elaborate about the proposition. If these drinks are to be prepared in the home, and the whole question is largely one of increasing the home consumption of milk, Professor Sammis declares: "Take any flavor that happens to be on the pantry shelf, put a little in a glass, add sugar to taste, fill the glass with milk, and put in some ice. That is all there is to it. Be sure that the milk is drank very cold, when it is most palatable. Vanilla is a very good flavor." It is not even necessary that whole milk be used, as condensed milk will do very well. Simply dilute the condensed milk with an equal volume of water, and use as whole milk. Condensed milk, however, has a cooked flavor found objectionable by many, and, in that case, a suitable substitute is powdered milk, which has no such cooked flavor. To prepare a powdered milk drink, put the flavor into the receptacle first, then the sugar, and then the powdered milk with a little water. Beat the powdered milk with an egg beater until it is wet through, and then add the rest of the water, finishing with the ice. By adding fruit colors these various milk drinks can be given a changed external appearance, and wise is the mother who will prepare them often when her children show an inclination not to drink enough milk. Served at the table, they attract every member of the family. These milk drinks are no more expensive than many of the more watery and less useful compounds, so often substituted. Soda fountains might well consider these various forms of sweetened and flavored milk to attract new trade. At the fountains the various flavoring syrups would naturally be used, and no sugar is necessary. And instead of clear water, carbonated water is used. The variety of these drinks is limited only by the ingenuity of the dispenser. W. A. F. Old New England Sweetmeats Crab-Apple Dainty Wash seven pounds of fruit and let boil with a little water until soft enough to press through a colander. Add three pounds of sugar, three pints of vinegar, and cloves and cinnamon to taste, and let the mixture boil, slowly, until it is thick and jelly-like. Pumpkin Preserve Pare a medium-sized pumpkin and cut into inch cubes. Let steam until tender, but not broken. Or cut the pumpkin into large pieces and let steam a short time and then cut the cubes. Prepare a syrup of sugar and water, about three pounds of sugar and a pint-and-a-half of water, in which simmer the juice and rind (cut into strips) of two lemons. Drop the pumpkin cubes into the syrup and let simmer, carefully, until the pumpkin is translucent. Dip out the pumpkin and pack in ordinary preserve jars; pour over the syrup and lemon and close the jars. S. A. R. * * * * * Apple-Orange Marmalade Take seven pounds of apples, all green, if possible; wash and remove any imperfections, also the blossom and stem. Cut, but do not core nor peel. Cut in very small pieces. Three oranges; wash and remove peel, which put through finest knife of food-chopper, after discarding the inner white peeling, also seeds. Put the apple on to boil, adding water till it shows among the fruit, and boil to quite soft; mash fine and put in jelly bag to drain over night. Boil the juice with the orange pulp, cut in very small pieces; add the orange peel and cook for twenty minutes, or till the orange is cooked. Add five (5) pounds of granulated sugar and let boil until a little in a cold saucer will jell. This recipe has never been in print to my knowledge and will prove very satisfactory to the majority of people. B. F. B. QUERIES AND ANSWERS This department is for the benefit and free use of our subscribers. Questions relating to recipes and those pertaining to culinary science and domestic economics in general, will be cheerfully answered by the editor. Communications for this department must reach us before the first of the month preceding that in which the answers are expected to appear. In letters requesting answers by mail, please enclose address and stamped envelope. Address queries to Janet M. Hill, Editor. AMERICAN COOKERY, 221 Columbus Ave., Boston, Mass. QUERY NO. 4241.--"I wish you would let me have a good recipe for Caramel Icing, the kind that does not call for the whites of eggs." Caramel Icing Add two cups and one-half of dark brown sugar to three-fourths a cup of milk, and let boil thirteen minutes. When nearly done add three tablespoonfuls of butter and one teaspoonful of vanilla. Beat until nearly cold, then spread on top of cake. It may also be used between the layers. If a sugar thermometer be used, the syrup should be boiled to the soft-ball stage, or between 235 deg. Fah. to 240 deg. Fah. QUERY NO. 4242.--"Please let me have a recipe for Spiced Pineapple." Spiced Pineapple Weigh six pounds of pineapple, after paring, coring, and cutting in rather small pieces. Cook in a porcelain kettle with three cups of the best white vinegar, until the pineapple is softened, keeping the kettle closely covered, and turning the fruit once in a while so that the pieces may be equally exposed to the action of the vinegar. Tie in cheesecloth or netting one ounce, each, of whole cloves, previously bruised, and stick cinnamon, broken into small pieces; add these to the kettle with five pounds of granulated sugar, and let cook until the mixture is of the consistency of marmalade, being careful to avoid burning. The spices may be removed as soon as they have given the flavor desired. QUERY NO. 4243.--"Will you kindly answer the following in your Department of Queries and Answers? Should Boiled Potatoes be started in cold or boiling water? Should Corn on the cob be put on in cold water and allowed to simmer for several minutes after it comes to a boil, or be put on in boiling water and boiled five minutes? Should Chicken, Turkey, or other Fowl be covered during roasting? Can you give a clear and up-to-date article on correct Table Service?" To Boil Potatoes Very young, new potatoes--the kind hardly bigger than walnuts, should be put on in cold water and brought quickly to a boil, for potatoes so young as to be immature contain more or less of a bitter principle, which is desirable to get rid of in the cooking. Potatoes in their prime, as from September to March, are best put on in boiling, salted water. Later in the spring, when the potatoes begin to sprout and shrivel they ought to be put on in cold water and brought, as slowly as possible, to a boil, or allowed to stand in cold water for some hours before cooking. To Boil Corn It is usually preferred to put on the corn in cold water, bring to a boil, and let simmer until done. But to steam the ears will give, in our opinion, the best results. Should Chicken Be Covered While Roasting? Decidedly not; it spoils the flavor not only of chicken and turkey, but of any prime joint of meat to bake it in a covered pan. The covered pan is properly used for braising only, for the tough cuts which have to be braised call for the combination of baking and steaming which results from the covered pan. All kinds of poultry, and all prime joints of meat should be placed on a rack in an uncovered roasting pan, put into a very hot oven for the first ten or fifteen minutes, and then have one or two cups of water poured over them, mixed with fat if the meat is lean, this water to be used for basting every ten or fifteen minutes. The rack in the pan serves both to allow a circulation of air around the meat, and to keep it from touching the water. It is this circulation of air that gives the fine flavor of the properly roasted meat, and the frequent opening of the oven door for the basting serves to supply the fresh air needed for the best results. Instructions on Table Service The Up-to-Date Waitress, by Janet M. Hill, or Breakfasts, Luncheons, and Dinners, by Mary D. Chambers, both contain clear and up-to-date directions for table service. We can supply these books if you wish to have either of them. QUERY NO. 4244.--"Will you tell me in your paper why my Lemon Pies become watery when I return them to the oven to brown the meringue? Also give me some suggestions for Desserts for Summertime, other than frozen dishes." Why Lemon Pies Become Watery A lemon pie may become watery when put in the oven to brown the meringue, if it be left in the oven too long; or it may water because the filling was not sufficiently cooked before putting into the pastry shell; or it may be from an insufficiency of flour being used in making the filling. If you had told us just how your pies are made, we would be better able to solve your problem. In future we hope to answer queries as soon as they reach us, and by direct reply to each individual questioner; but up to the present we have answered most of them in this department of the magazine, and since it takes two or three months to get the manuscript into print many of the questions are answered too late. So it happens with your inquiry regarding desserts for Summertime. Any of the cold desserts, such as gelatines, custards, blancmanges, or fresh fruits with cream, are suitable for summer and are easily prepared. QUERY NO. 4245.--"Will you oblige me by an answer to the following in the pages of AMERICAN COOKERY? How shall I make Tartare Sauce? What should be the temperature of the fat for French Fried Potatoes or for Potato Chips? Mine are never crisp, can you tell me why? Also tell me how to Broil Fish, how to make a good Cream Dressing for fish, meat, or croquettes, and how to make Soft Gingerbread with a sauce to put over it." Tartare Sauce A Tartare Sauce or Sauce Tartare is merely a mayonnaise dressing with pickles chopped into it, a tablespoonful, each, or more, of chopped cucumber, cauliflower, and olives, with a tablespoonful of capers and two teaspoonfuls of red pepper to a pint of the mayonnaise. There is, however, a hot Tartare Sauce which is made by adding to one cup of thick white sauce the following ingredients: One tablespoonful, each, of chives, parsley, pickled gherkins, olives, and capers, all put through the food chopper. Stir into the white sauce; heat while stirring constantly, but do not allow the mixture to boil, and add one tablespoonful of vinegar just before serving. Crisp Fried Potatoes We think your trouble is not so much the temperature of the fat, which should be about 350 deg. to 375 deg. Fah., as it is that potatoes, to be crisped by deep frying, should first be soaked in cold water for twenty to thirty minutes, then dried perfectly before immersing in the fat. Also, they should be removed from the fat the moment they are done, and drained dry. To Broil Fish Wipe the fish dry, and brush it lightly with oil or melted butter. Place it in a double wire broiler, and cook over a clear fire, turning every other minute until both sides are a light, even brown. Remove carefully from the broiler, using a sharp boning knife to free it from adhesions. If the fish is thoroughly oiled, it should not adhere to the broiler. Cream Sauce Blend together butter and flour, and add to hot milk; keep stirring until the whole has boiled for at least one minute. Add seasonings to taste, at the beginning of cooking. The proportions for a thin, a medium, and a thick sauce are, respectively: One, two, and four tablespoonfuls of flour to one cup of milk. And an equal volume of butter, or one-third less than the flour, is called for. Soft Gingerbread To two beaten eggs in a mixing-bowl add two tablespoonfuls of butter, melted, three-eighths a cup of sour milk, and one cup of molasses. Beat all together; add two cups of flour, sifted with one-half a teaspoonful of salt and one teaspoonful of baking powder, and one tablespoonful of ginger. Lastly, add one teaspoonful of baking soda, dissolved in two teaspoonfuls of water. Bake in a sheet, and serve with whipped cream for a simple dessert. QUERY NO. 4246.--"Can you give me a recipe for Deep-Dish Apple Pie? It has a thick top covering, I cannot call it a crust, for it is something between a cake and a biscuit dough--not at all like pie crust." Deep-Dish Apple Pie This is the genuine English Apple Pie--they would call ours an apple tart. It is made in oval baking-dishes of thick yellow ware, about two and one-half or three inches deep, and with flat rims an inch in width. The first thing to do is to invert a teacup--preferably one without a handle--in the bottom of the dish, then core and pare sour, juicy apples--any number, from six to a dozen, depending on the size of the family and the dish--and divide them in eighths. Arrange these in alternate layers with sugar in the dish, with a generous sprinkling of whole cloves over each layer, and pile, layer on layer, until not another bit of apple can go in anywhere without toppling out. The apples are piled up as high again as the depth of the dish, or higher. Now lay over all a very rich biscuit dough, lightly rolled out to one-fourth inch in thickness. Decorate this with leaves, or other cut-out designs, and arrange them over the covering and moisten the under sides with water, to make them adhere during the baking. Place long strips of the dough over the brim of the pie-dish, and press with the bowl of a spoon in concentric designs. Bake in a moderate oven for an hour. Pieces of the crust are cut off for serving, and spoonfuls of the apple pulp are served with them on the plate, then, as soon as convenient the inverted cup is removed, and the rich liquid collected under it is spooned over each serving of crust and apples. QUERY NO. 4247.--"I wish very much to know the right temperature for Baking both layer and loaf, white, butter Cakes, also for chocolate Cake. Should the Baking begin with a cold or a warm oven? How long should each kind of cake bake?" Temperature for Cake Baking The usual time and temperature for baking layer cakes is 400 deg. Fah., for twenty minutes. Loaf cakes, made with butter, with or without chocolate, take a temperature of from 350 deg. to 375 deg, Fah. for from forty minutes to an hour. These temperatures are approximate, and are in accordance with the general rules for oven temperature, but this has to be adapted to the recipe. The more sugar used the lower should be the temperature, to avoid burning, and especially when molasses is used does the need to decrease temperature become imperative. The more butter used the higher should be the temperature, at least, until the cake is "set," to keep it from falling. Cakes with much butter need the greatest heat at first, and then a reduced temperature. So do all cakes of small size. Large cakes are better at a uniform temperature, not so high as the average. A different flavor is produced, especially in very rich cakes with a good many eggs, when put into a cool oven and baked with gradually increasing heat, from that developed by a high initial temperature and then a decreased heat. The quality of the flour and shortening also affect the temperature and time needed in baking. It is a good safe thing to follow the rules, and to temper them with judgment. When the cake is just firm in the center, and has shrunk from the sides of the pan, it is done, no matter what the temperature has been or how long it has baked. But you will always get your cake at this condition, more surely and safely, by following the rules, though you must be on the alert to use them with flexibility. QUERY NO. 4248.--"Will you please give me a recipe for Canned Pimientoes?" Canned Pimientoes Cut round the stem of each, and with a small, sharp knife remove the seeds and the white partitions inside. Set on a baking sheet in a hot oven until the thin outside skin puffs and cracks, then remove it with a small, sharp knife. Or they may be scalded, then dipped into cold water and the skin be carefully removed. Sometimes the skin is left on. Now press each one flat, and arrange them in layers, alternately overlapping one another, in the jars, without liquid, and process for twenty-five to thirty-five minutes at 212 deg. Fah. During the processing a thick liquid should exude, covering the pimientoes. QUERY NO. 4249.--"I should like a recipe for New York Ice Cream." Classes of Ice Cream There are three distinct classes of Ice Cream: The Philadelphia, which is supposed to be made of heavy cream; the French, which is made with eggs on a soft custard foundation; and the so-called American, which is made on the foundation of a thin white sauce. All three classes are made in New York, and in every other large city, but we have never heard that any special recipe for ice cream is peculiar to New York. The less expensive forms of cream, in that and every other city, are those based on a thin white sauce, sweetened, flavored, and frozen. * * * * * [Illustration: Housewives the nation over will be enthusiastic over the appointment of Mrs. Belle DeGraf as Domestic Science Director of the California Prune and Apricot Growers. Mrs. DeGraf enjoys a countrywide reputation as a home-cooking expert and as an authority on food values.] =_I never knew what prunes and apricots could do until--_= I came to analyze the flavor-and-health values of these two fruit-foods. At first their use seemed rather limited but with each new dish others immediately suggested themselves. The chief nutritive element in both prunes and apricots, of course, is fruit sugar. But you derive great value, too, from their mineral salts and organic acids. These improve the quality of the blood and counteract the acid-elements in meat, eggs, cereals and other high-protein foods. Also, they are rich in tonic iron and other mineral and vitamine elements needed for body tone. Nor should I forget to mention that prunes especially provide a natural laxative made in Nature's own pharmacy. But aside from these essential health values, I found that Sunsweet Prunes and Apricots offer wonderful possibilities--varying from the most delicate soufflé to the more substantial cobbler, pie or pudding. --_Belle DeGraf_ The new 1922 Sunsweet Recipe Packet--edited by Mrs. Belle DeGraf--will be nothing less than a revelation to you. The recipes are printed on _gummed slips_ [5×3"] for easy pasting in your cook book. And it's free! California Prune & Apricot Growers Inc., 1196 Market St., San Jose, Cal. SUNSWEET CALIFORNIA'S NATURE-FLAVORED PRUNES & APRICOTS * * * * * [Illustration] Another Mystery Cake Can You Name It? The first Royal Mystery Cake Contest created a countrywide sensation. Here is another cake even more wonderful. Who can give it a name that will do justice to its unusual qualities? This cake can be made just right only with Royal Baking Powder. Will you make it and name it? $500 For The Best Names For the name selected as best, we will pay $250. For the second, third, fourth, and fifth choice, we will pay $100, $75, $50, and $25 respectively. Anyone may enter the contest, but only one name from each person will be considered. All names must be received by December 15th. In case of ties, the full amount of the prize will be given to each tying contestant. Do not send your cake. Simply send the name you suggest With your own name and address, to the ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO: 158 William Street, New York HOW TO MAKE IT Use level measurements for all materials 1/2 cup shortening 1-1/2 cups sugar Grated rind of 1/2 orange 1 egg and 1 yolk 2-1/3 cups flour 1/4 teaspoon salt 4 teaspoons Royal Baking Powder 1 cup milk 1-1/2 squares (1-1/2 ozs.) of unsweetened chocolate (melted) Cream shortening, add sugar and grated orange rind. Add beaten egg yolks. Sift together flour, salt and Royal Baking Powder and add alternately with the milk; lastly fold in one beaten egg white. Divide batter into two parts. To one part add the chocolate. Put by tablespoonfuls, alternating dark and light batter, into three greased layer cake pans. Bake in moderate oven 20 min. FILLING AND ICING 3 tablespoons melted butter 3 cups confectioner's sugar 3 squares (3 ozs.) unsweetened chocolate 2 tablespoons orange juice 1 egg white Grated rind of 1/2 orange and pulp of 1 orange Put butter, sugar, orange juice and rind into bowl. Cut pulp from orange, removing skin and seeds, and add. Beat all together until smooth. Fold in beaten egg white. Spread this icing on layer used for top of cake. While icing is soft, sprinkle with unsweetened chocolate shaved in fine pieces with sharp knife (use 1/2 square). To remaining icing add 2-1/2 squares unsweetened chocolate which has been melted, Spread this thickly between layers and on sides of cake. [Illustration] * * * * * [Illustration] "Holds Like Daddy's" Not only that, but it is made with the _same care_ and of the same _quality_ as Daddy's. [Illustration] =The Baby Midget Velvet Grip Hose Supporter= Has taken the place of all makeshifts ever known for holding up baby's tiny socks--equipped with that exclusive feature found only on Velvet Grip garters for "grown-ups"--namely the =All-Rubber Oblong Button= _Sold everywhere or sent postpaid_ =Lisle 12 cents= =Silk 18 cents= =George Frost Company 568 Tremont St., Boston= Makers of the famous =Boston Garter for Men= * * * * * It was the custom of the congregation to repeat the Twenty-third Psalm in concert, and Mrs. Armstrong's habit was to keep about a dozen words ahead all the way through. A stranger was asking one day about Mrs. Armstrong. "Who," he inquired, "was the lady who was already by the still waters while the rest of us were lying down in green pastures?" _Metropolitan._ * * * * * [Illustration: The Finest Relish with Beef as well as Poultry Nature's own condiment--the tonic tang of health-giving cranberries gives zest to the appetite, and a piquant flavor to meats--hot or cold. When cooked with pot-roast or cheaper cuts of meats cranberries make the meat tender and delicious. (See recipe folder for this and other recipes.) =_8 lbs. cranberries and 2-1/2 lbs. of sugar make 10 tumblers of beautiful clear jelly. Try this recipe:--_= Cranberry Jelly Cook until soft the desired quantity of cranberries with 1-1/2 pints of water for each two quarts of berries. Strain the juice through a jelly bag. Measure the juice and heat it to the boiling point. Add one cup of sugar for every two cups of juice; stir until the sugar is dissolved; boil briskly for five minutes; skim, and pour into glass tumblers, porcelain or crockery molds. Always cook cranberries in porcelain-lined, enameled or aluminum utensils. A recipe folder, containing many ways to use and preserve cranberries will be sent free on request. =_For quality and economy specify "Eatmor" Cranberries_= =American Cranberry Exchange, 90 West Broadway, New York City=] * * * * * "Choisa" Orange Pekoe Ceylon Tea [Illustration] Pre-War Prices 1-lb. Cartons, 60 cents 1/2-lb. Cartons, 35 cents Pre-War Quality We invite comparison with any tea selling under $1.00 a pound S. S. PIERCE CO. BOSTON BROOKLINE * * * * * Baked Apples with Marshmallows [Illustration] 6 apples 3/4 cup boiling water 1/2 box Campfire Marshmallows 1 tablespoon butter Wipe apples, remove core, cut through skin half way down to make points and place in baking dish. Reserve six Campfire Marshmallows, cut remainder in pieces and put in center of apples. Put bits of butter on top. Surround apples with water and bake in hot oven until soft, basting frequently. Be very careful that they do not lose their shape. Remove from oven, put a whole marshmallow in the top of each apple, and return to oven until slightly brown. Surround with the syrup from the pan and serve hot or cold with cream. _Recipes on each package_ The big 6 oz. package Campfire Marshmallows _Beautiful Recipe Book FREE_ Dept. A, THE CAMPFIRE CO., Milwaukee, Wis. * * * * * [Illustration: Baker's Fresh Grated Coconut in pure coconut milk _... and Cook says there's a secret behind the flavor_ Baker's Coconut has that tempting flavor of the ripe coconut fresh from the Tropics. YOU'LL note its goodness the very first time you try it. You'll realize, too, that coconut is real food, delicious and nourishing--as well as a garnish for other foods. There IS a secret behind the wonderful flavor of Baker's. See if YOU can find it in the can. _=In the can:=_--Baker's Fresh Grated Coconut--canned in it's own milk. _=In the package:=_--Baker's Dry Shred Coconut--sugar-cured--for those who prefer the old-fashioned kind. Have YOU a copy of the Baker Recipe Booklet? If not write for it NOW--it's free. THE FRANKLIN BAKER COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA, PA. Baker's Coconut First for Flavor] * * * * * DELICIOUS AND SUSTAINING DIABETIC FOODS QUICKLY MADE WITH Hepco Flour RICH IN PROTEIN AND FAT CONTAINS PRACTICALLY NO STARCH _Twenty Cents Brings a General Sample_ Thompson's Malted Food Company 17 River Drive Waukesha, Wisconsin * * * * * SERVICE TABLE WAGON [Illustration: Large Broad Wide Table Top--Removable Glass Service Tray--Double Drawer--Double Handles--Large Deep Undershelves--"Scientifically Silent"--Rubber Tired Swivel Wheels. A high grade piece of furniture surpassing anything yet attempted for GENERAL UTILITY, ease of action, and absolute noiselessness. Write now for descriptive pamphlet and dealer's name. COMBINATION PRODUCTS CO. 5041 Cunard Bldg., Chicago, Ill. It Serves Your Home & Saves Your Time] * * * * * Domestic Science Home-Study Courses Food, health, housekeeping, clothing, children. _For Homemakers and Mothers; professional courses for Teachers, Dietitians, Institution Managers, Demonstrators, Nurses, Tea Room Managers, Caterers, "Cooking for Profit," etc._ "THE PROFESSION OF HOME-MAKING," 100 page handbook, _free_. BULLETINS: "Free-hand Cooking," "Food Values," "Ten-Cent Meals," "Family Finance," "Art of Spending"--10c ea. =American School of Home Economics= =(Chartered in 1915) 503 W. 69th St., Chicago, Ill.= * * * * * Dress Designing Lessons FREE Women--Girls--15 or over, can easily learn Dress and Costume Designing during their spare moments IN TEN WEEKS =Dress and Costume Designers Frequently Earn= =$45 to $100 a Week= =Many Start Parlors in Their Own Homes= Every woman who now does plain sewing should take up Designing Hundreds Learn Millinery by Mail Cut and Mail to Franklin Institute, Dept. R 640 Rochester, N.Y. Send me AT ONCE free sample lessons in the subject here checked. __=Dress Designing= __=Millinery= Name ................................... Address .................................. [Illustration] * * * * * Mrs. Knox's Page Household Discoveries with Gelatine Housekeepers everywhere are constantly sending me new and unusual uses for gelatine. These hints are so interesting that I am giving as many as possible here, together with one of my own gelatine specialties. If you, too, have discovered some new use for Knox Gelatine, send it to me that I may publish it on this page. A DELICIOUS THANKSGIVING DESSERT 1 envelope Knox Sparkling Gelatine 1/2 cup cold water White of 1 egg 1 teaspoonful vanilla 1 cup maple syrup 2 cups cream 1/4 pound nut meats, chopped 1/8 teaspoonful salt Soften the gelatine in the cold water ten minutes and dissolve over hot water. Heat the maple syrup and pour on the beaten white of the egg, beating until very light. Beat in the gelatine and, when cool, fold in the cream, beating well, and add vanilla, salt and nut meats. Line mold with lady fingers or slices of stale sponge cake. Turn in the cream and chill. _=For after-dinner candies, try Knox Gelatine mints=_ Fruit juices, from canned or "put-up" fruits, need not be served with the fruit but poured off, saved and made into Knox Gelatine desserts and salads. The juice from canned strawberries, loganberries, or blackberries makes a most delicious jelly when combined with Knox Gelatine, or with nuts, cheese and lettuce, a delightful fruit salad. Canned apricot juice, jellied with spices and grated orange rind, makes an appetizing relish for meat or fish. Canned pineapple juice, molded with sliced tomatoes or cucumbers, makes a most unusual jellied salad. In these fruit juice desserts and salads, use one level tablespoonful Knox Gelatine for every two cups of juice, or two level teaspoonfuls to a cup of liquid. First soften gelatine in cold water and add fruit juice, heated sufficiently to dissolve gelatine. Pour into wet molds and chill. Bread crumbs, rice and nuts, combined with Knox Gelatine, make a nutritious "Vegetarian Nut Loaf." This may be used in place of meat and is appropriate for a simple home luncheon or dinner. See detailed recipe, page 5, of the Knox booklet, "Food Economy." =MANY GELATINE DISCOVERIES IN KNOX BOOKLETS= There are many additional uses for gelatine in my recipe booklets, "Dainty Desserts" and "Food Economy," which contain recipes for salads, desserts, meat and fish molds, relishes, candies, and invalid dishes. They will be sent free for 4 cents in stamps and your grocer's name. * * * * * Any domestic science teacher can have sufficient gelatine for her class, if she will write me on school stationery, stating quantity and when needed. * * * * * ="Wherever a recipe calls for Gelatine--think of KNOX"= MRS CHARLES B. KNOX KNOX GELATINE =107 Knox Avenue= =Johnstown, N. Y.= [Illustration] [Illustration] * * * * * Buy advertised Goods--Do not accept substitutes * * * * * [Illustration: A Delicious and Sustaining Breakfast All the wholesome, nutritious food elements of wheat and malt are combined in MALT BREAKFAST FOOD With cream or milk, it makes a healthful, substantial morning meal for the whole family. At grocers,--in the blue and yellow package with the little Dutch girl on it. Try it--tomorrow THE MALTED CEREALS CO. Burlington, Vermont] * * * * * [Illustration: DELISCO The Most Delicious Substitute for Coffee Drinkers _Endorsed by Physicians and Professor Allyn of Westfield_ Soothes the nerves, equals in taste and aroma the choicest grades of coffee, without the caffeine effects -------------------------------- | Delisco contains 21% protein | -------------------------------- For Children, Adults and Invalids At your Grocer's--50 cup pkg.--48c By Parcel Post Prepaid: 1 package 55c; 2 packages $1.00 Sawyer Crystal Blue Co. Sole Selling Agents 88 Broad Street, Boston, Mass. -LOCAL AGENTS WANTED-] * * * * * Mother: "No, Bobbie, I can't allow you to play with that little Kim boy. He might have a bad influence over you." Bobbie: "But, mother, can I play with him for the good influence I might have over him?"--_New York Globe._ * * * * * [Illustration: HEBE Some HEBE Suggestions Tomato Puree Chicken Pattie Veal Fricassee Salad Dressings Doughnuts Waffles Pumpkin Pie Puddings Try this recipe for Gingerbread--delicious and economical 2 cups flour 1/4 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon ginger 1/2 teaspoon soda 1/2 teaspoon mace 1 egg beaten 1/2 cup HEBE diluted with 2 tablespoons water 1 cup seedless raisins 1/4 cup brown sugar 1/4 cup butter 1/2 cup corn syrup 1/2 cup molasses Sift flour, salt, soda and spices into bowl. Melt together HEBE, water, sugar, butter, syrup and molasses. Cool slightly and add to dry ingredients with egg and raisins. Turn into greased and floured cake tin and bake in moderate oven for an hour. You'll love gingerbread made this way. It's a good wholesome food and an always welcome dessert. HEBE gives it that good rich flavor and the fine texture that makes it melt in your mouth--and HEBE adds nutriment too. HEBE is pure skimmed milk evaporated to double strength enriched with cocoanut fat. In cooking it serves a threefold purpose--to moisten, to shorten and to enrich. _Order HEBE today from your grocer and write to us for the free HEBE book of recipes. Address 4315 Consumers Building, Chicago_ THE HEBE COMPANY Chicago Seattle * * * * * [Illustration: "WIN-A-SPIN" TOPS Fortune may smile on the winner. White for fame, pink for gold and blue for happiness. The longest spinner is the winner. Box of 3 tops, _50c. postpaid_. (Ask for No. 4249.) Our catalog shows hundreds of novel, inexpensive gifts for young and old. Send for a copy today and make your Christmas shopping a pleasure. See the _Pohlson_ things in stores and gift shops. Look for the Pohlson seal of distinction. POHLSON Gift Shop Pawtucket, R. I.] * * * * * [Illustration: Shurdone _CAKE and MUFFIN TESTER_ Convenient, Sanitary and Hygienic Year's Supply for a Dime. Send 10c. (Stamps or Coin) to PERCY H. HOWARD 2 Central Square Cambridge, Mass.] * * * * * _We wish the following back numbers of_ AMERICAN COOKERY June 1915 May 1917 December 1919 June 1920 November 1920 March 1921 and will remit one dollar to any one sending us the above SET of SIX numbers (_We desire only complete sets of 6 numbers_) The Boston Cooking School Magazine Co. BOSTON, MASS. * * * * * SALAD SECRETS 100 recipes. Brief but complete. 15c by mail. 100 Meatless recipes 15c. 50 Sandwich recipes 15c. All three 30c. B. R. BRIGGS, 250 Madison St., Brooklyn, N. Y. * * * * * "Ten-Cent Meals" 42 Meals with receipts and directions for preparing each. 48 pp. 10c. Am. School of Home Economics, 503 W. 69th St., Chicago The Silver Lining It's Only Old Pot Liquor, After All Respectfully dedicated to the eminent scientist, Dr. H. Barringer Cox Southerners have been rather amused to read lately that the favorite dish of the children and the colored people, "Pot Liquor," that is the liquid in which turnip greens, beans, etc., with bacon, have been boiled, has now been pronounced a most valuable food by scientists. "Pot Liquor" is usually eaten with "corn pone," that is, plain corn bread. I feel advanced and erudite, Because I recently did read Where skilful scientist did write A column full of learned "feed." Oh, it was all about such things As "vitamines" and kindred terms; I read and read how some food brings Eviction to the naughty germs. I read of how we all should eat The "essence" strong of turnip greens, And oh, he showed in language meet For science that he did "know beans." My head did almost ache with weight Of all the learning I obtained; And when I read, through language great, I marvelled at the knowledge gained. Black "Mammy" would have never known A germ. Alas! that she has died Before her nurslings' feast, "corn pone" In juice of greens was glorified. Please, Mr, Scientist, so wise, Since you "pot liquor" do so raise To nth degree, nutrition size, Send us another screed to praise In learned phrase, "pot liquor's" true And constant partner, good "'corn pone"; Oh, we "down South" do beg of you Leave not our childhood's friend alone; But drop in scientific stew-- Of course in language hard to read-- A "corn pone hunk"--we promise you A noble, satisfying "feed." Then honorable mention take Our "side meat," then such generous share, Such unction and such healing make As "inner consciousness" should bear. In earlier days we only knew "Pot Liquor" and we did not bow To "vitamines," Alas! 'tis true, Bacon, a real aristocrat is now. * * * * * Here are some of--Mrs. Rorer's Standard Books of peculiar interest just at this time: HOME CANDY MAKING Has an appealing sound. The idea of making candy is enticing. And here are ways easily understood for making all sorts of delicious confections. The directions are plain and easily followed. =Bound in cloth, 75 cents; by mail, 80 cents= CAKES, ICINGS AND FILLINGS This is another book that has an appeal. Every housewife has pride in her knowledge of cake making, or at least likes to have them for her home and her guests. Well, here are recipes in abundance. =Bound in cloth, $1.00; by mail, $1.10= KEY TO SIMPLE COOKERY A new-plan cook book. Its simplicity will commend it to housewives, for it saves time, worry and expense. By the way, there is also the layout of a model kitchen, illustrated, that will save many steps in the daily work. =Bound in cloth, $1.25; by mail, $1.40= DAINTIES Contains Appetizers, Canapes, Vegetable and Fruit Cocktails, Cakes, Candies, Creamed Fruits, Desserts, Frozen Puddings, etc. =Bound in cloth, $1.00; by mail, $1.10= PHILADELPHIA COOK BOOK A famous cook book, full of all the brightest things in cookery. Hundreds of choice recipes, all good, all sure, that have stood the test by thousands of housewives. The beginner can pin her faith on these tried recipes, and the good cook can find lots to interest her. =Bound in cloth, $1.50; by mail, $1.65= MY BEST 250 RECIPES Mrs. Rorer's own selection of the choicest things in every department of cookery, as for instance, 20 Best Soups, 20 Best Fish Recipes, 20 Best Ways for Meat, 20 Best Vegetable Recipes, and so on through the whole range of table food. =Bound in cloth, $1.00; by mail, $1.10= For sale by Boston Cooking-School Magazine, Co., Department and Bookstores, or =ARNOLD & COMPANY, 420 Sansom St., Philadelphia= Buy advertised Goods--Do not accept substitutes * * * * * [Illustration: No. 4244 Doris brings you ribbon For your lingerie. You'll find her very helpful For one as young as she.] =DAINTY DORIS= Bringing 8 yards of finely-woven washable silk lingerie tape with bodkin, all ready for running. Your choice of pink or blue in delicate shades, 85c post paid. Just one of hundreds of equally attractive things shown in our catalog of Gifts for every member of the family and for every gift occasion. Select from our catalog and make your Christmas shopping a pleasure. Send for it today. Look for the POHLSON things in stores and gift shops of your town. [Illustration: Pohlson Gifts] =POHLSON GIFT SHOP, Pawtucket, R. I.= * * * * * =PERSONAL BODY DEVELOPMENT= =The correct method of obtaining a Perfect Figure, overcoming Nervousness, Constipation, Biliousness, Flabbiness of flesh and thinness of body.= _=Price, $1.00. Fully Guaranteed.=_ =THE NEW IDEAS CO. 14 Collins Bldg., LIMA, OHIO= * * * * * [Illustration: Quarts Only] =FREE FOR 30 DAYS= Have you ever wanted to obtain the =CREAM= from a bottle of =MILK=? This =SEPARATOR= does it =PERFECTLY=. Send this ad., your name and address, and we will send one. Pay postman 50 cents. Use for 30 days; if not entirely =SATISFACTORY= return and we will refund your money. =B. W. J. COMPANY, Dept. A.C.= =1996 Indianola Ave., Columbus, Ohio= * * * * * [Illustration] _PRACTICAL CHRISTMAS GIFT_ ROBERTS Lightning Mixer _BEATS EVERYTHING_ Beats eggs, whips cream, churns butter, mixes gravies, desserts and dressings, and does the work in a few seconds. Blends and mixes malted milk, powdered milk, baby foods and all drinks. Simple and Strong. Saves work--easy to clean. Most necessary household article. Used by 200,000 housewives and endorsed by leading household magazines. If your dealer does not carry this, we will send prepaid quart size $1.25, pint size 90c. Far West and South, quart $1.40, pint $1.00. =Recipe book free with mixer.= =NATIONAL CO. CAMBRIDGE 39, BOSTON, MASS.= * * * * * =A Dishwasher for $2.50!= Keeps hands out of the water, no wiping of dishes, saves 1/2 the time. Consists of special folding dishdrainer, special wire basket, 2 special long-handled brushes. Full directions for use. Sent prepaid for $2.50. Full refund if not satisfactory. =Am. School of Home Economics, 503 W. 69th. St., Chicago= Oh, so advanced I feel, for I-- No science in my cranium small-- In learned dress, old friend do spy-- It's only our "Pot Liquor" after all. BY M. E. HENRY-RUFFIN. * * * * * Foreman: "What are you doin' of, James?" Bricklayer: "Sharpenin' a bit o' pencil." Foreman: "You'll 'ave the Union after you, me lad. That's a carpenter's job."--_Punch._ * * * * * "Home-Making as a Profession" Home-making is the greatest of all the professions--greatest in numbers and greatest in its influence on the individual and on society. All industry is conducted for the home, directly or indirectly, but the industries directly allied to the home are vastly important, as the food industries, clothing industries, etc. Study of home economics leads directly to many well paid vocations as well as to home efficiency. Since 1905 the American School of Home Economics has given home-study courses to over 30,000 housekeepers, teachers, and others. The special textbooks have been used for class work in over 500 schools. Of late years, courses have been developed fitting for many well paid positions:--Institution Management, Tea Room and Lunchroom Management, Teaching of Domestic Science, Home Demonstrators, Dietitians, Nurses, Dressmaking, "Cooking for Profit." Home-Makers' Courses:--Complete Home Economics, Household Engineering, Lessons in Cooking, The Art of Spending. BULLETINS: Free-Hand Cooking, Ten-cent Meals, Food Values, Family Finance, Art of Spending, Weekly Allowance Book, _10c. each_. Details of any of the courses and interesting 80-page illustrated handbook, "The Profession of Home-Making" sent on request. American School of Home Economics, 503 W. 69th Street, Chicago. --_Adv._ * * * * * [Illustration: STICKNEY AND POOR'S SPICED POULTRY SEASONING _Stickney & Poor Spice Co._ TWO OUNCES BOSTON] =THANKSGIVING TIME= means company and lots of preparing for the Feast =Turkey--Chicken--Roast Duck= stuffed with dressing seasoned with =STICKNEY & POOR'S POULTRY SEASONING= PIES Pumpkin--Squash--Mince all seasoned with =STICKNEY & POOR'S DEPENDABLE SPICES= Stickney & Poor's Seasonings have been used by New England Housewives in preparing Thanksgiving dishes for more than a century. Your Mother and Grandmother learned to depend upon them, and you should, too, because they are always pure, full strength, and of uniform quality. Ask your grocer for Stickney & Poor's Seasonings. Your co-operating servant, "MUSTARDPOT." STICKNEY & POOR SPICE COMPANY 1815--Century Old--Century Honored--1921 Mustard-Spices BOSTON and HALIFAX Seasonings-Flavorings THE NATIONAL MUSTARD POT * * * * * =JUST THE THING FOR THE HOT WEATHER= =Gossom's Cream Soups (in Powdered Form)= =Pure, Wholesome, Delicious= [Illustration: Maiden America Gossom's Pure Concentrated Soups] Quickly and Easily Prepared. Simply add water and boil 15 minutes and you have a delightful soup, of high food value and low cost. One 15 cent package makes 3 pints of soup. These soups do not deteriorate, so may be continually on hand and thus found most convenient. The contents also keep after opening. Split pea, Green pea, Lima, Celery, Black Bean, Clam Chowder, Onion and (Mushroom 25c). Sample sent prepaid on receipt of 20 cents, or one dozen for $1.75. For Sale by leading grocers 15 cents a package, 20 cents in far West. =Manufactured by B. F. Gossom, 692 Washington St., Brookline, 46, Mass.= * * * * * ="Free-Hand Cooking"= _Cook without recipes!_ A key to cookbooks, correct proportions, time, temperature; thickening, leavening, shortening, 105 fundamental recipes. 40 p. book. 10 cents coin or stamps. =Am. School of Home Economics, 503 W. 69th Street, Chicago= * * * * * [Illustration: =Trade Mark Registered.= =Gluten Flour= 40% GLUTEN Guaranteed to comply in all respects to standard requirements of U. S. Dept. of Agriculture. =Manufactured by= =FARWELL & RHINES= =Watertown, N. Y.=] * * * * * Cream Whipping Made Easy and Inexpensive CREMO-VESCO Whips Thin Cream or Half Heavy Cream and Milk or Top of the Milk Bottle It whips up as easily as heavy cream and retains its stiffness. Every caterer and housekeeper wants CREMO-VESCO. Send for a bottle to-day. * * * * * Housekeeper's size, 1-1/2 oz., .30 prepaid Caterer's size, 16 oz., $1.00 " (With full directions) CREMO-VESCO COMPANY 631 EAST 23rd ST., BROOKLYN, N. Y. =Pacific Coast Agents:= =MILES MFG. CO., 949-951 E. 2nd St., Los Angeles, Cal.= Bernard Shaw: "Say, Einie, do you really think you understand yourself?" Einstein: "No, Bernie--do you?" * * * * * As the Sunday-school teacher entered, she saw leaving in great haste a little girl and her smaller brother. "Why, Mary, you aren't going away?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Pleathe, Mith Anne, we've got to go," was the distressed reply. "Jimmy thwallowed hith collection." * * * * * DELISCO is considered by connoisseurs a most delicious, refreshing and healthful drink. It fully satisfies, by its aroma and flavor, the natural desire of the coffee drinker who has heretofore continued to take coffee because unable to find a satisfactory equivalent. When properly made, experts have been unable to distinguish DELISCO from the finer grades of coffee.--_Adv._ * * * * * =Cooking for Profit= =BY ALICE BRADLEY= =Principal, Miss Farmer's School of Cookery Cooking Editor, Woman's Home Companion= If you wish to earn money at home through home cooked food and catering--if you would like to own and conduct a food shop, candy kitchen, tea room, cafeteria or lunch room--if you wish to manage a profitable guest house or small hotel, you will be interested in this new correspondence course. It explains just how to prepare food, "good enough to sell"; just what to cook, with many choice recipes; how to establish a reputation and a constant profitable market; how to cater for all occasions, and tells in detail how to establish and conduct successful tea rooms, etc.--how to manage _all_ food service. The expense for equipment is little or nothing at first, the correspondence instruction is under the personal direction of Miss Bradley which assures your success, the fee for the course is very moderate and may be paid on easy terms. For full details write to American School of Home Economics, 503 W. 69th Street, Chicago.--_Adv._ * * * * * =DR. PRICE'S VANILLA= To know pure, delicate, full-flavored vanilla extract at its very best--try Price's Vanilla. Only the highest quality beans, carefully chosen, are used. Perfectly cured and extracted to get the true, pure flavor; this flavor is then aged in wooden casks to bring out all its richness and mellowness. That--and that alone--is Price's Vanilla. [Illustration] [Illustration: Look for Price's Tropikid on the label] For nearly seventy years--the quality of Price's Vanilla has never varied. It is always the best that can be made! Insist upon Price's from your grocer--don't take a substitute. If he hasn't it in stock, he can easily get it for you! =PRICE FLAVORING EXTRACT COMPANY= ="Experts in Flavor" In Business 68 Years= =Chicago, Ill.= * * * * * =WHITE HOUSE _Coffee_= [Illustration] =_For the Business Man's Breakfast_= A steaming cup of _White House Coffee_ at the morning meal gives, to most men, just the needed impetus which carries him through a strenuous day and brings to him the successes he strives for. _=1-3-5 lb. Packages Only=_ =DWINELL-WRIGHT CO. BOSTON · CHICAGO= _Principal Coffee Roasters_ * * * * * Buy advertised Goods--Do not accept substitutes * * * * * =No SALAD is quite so PERFECT as when served with ROSE APPLES= Six hundred leading hotels, from Bangor to Los Angeles, are using them. A new sweet pepper used as salad cups, garnishes, etc.--beautiful red--rich, nutty flavor--crisp--tender--melting--juicy. If not on sale in your Fancy Grocery we will deliver, charges prepaid, east of Denver, a case of six full quarts for $3.90. Each quart will serve 13 to 16 people. Try them at your next dinner. Your guests will rave. The first expression is: "The lovely things, what are they?" Then at the first taste: "How delicious; where can I get them?" If dissatisfied after using one quart, return the remainder at our expense and we will return all money paid. A new book of SALADS in every case, or sent free on request, with the name of your retail Fancy Grocer. =KEHOE PRESERVING COMPANY, Terre Haute, Indiana= * * * * * =French Ivory Manicure Sets= (=21 Pieces=) In black cobra grain, plush lined case. Only =$7.00=. Only a few left =H. L. CARROLL= =New Jersey Ave., S. E. Washington, D.C.= * * * * * ="Where My Money Goes"= _Weekly Allowance Book_--simple little book 32 pages, small enough for your pocketbook, easily kept; gives classified record of all personal or household expenses, _10 cents_. =AM. SCHOOL OF HOME ECONOMICS, 503a W. 69th STREET, CHICAGO= * * * * * [Illustration: Wagner Cast Aluminum utensils are cast, not stamped. Being in one solid piece there are no rivets to loosen, no seams to break, no welded parts. Wagner Cast Aluminum Ware wears longer and cooks better. The thickness of the metal is the reason--heat is retained and evenly distributed--food does not scorch or burn as is liable in stamped sheet utensils. Wagner Ware combines durability and superior cooking quality with the most beautiful designs and finish. At best dealer's. _Don't ask for aluminum ware, ask for Wagner Ware_ =The Wagner Mfg. Co.= =Dept. 74 SIDNEY, OHIO=] * * * * * ="Household Helpers"= If you could engage an expert cook and an expert housekeeper for only 10 cents a week, with no board or room, you would do it, wouldn't you? Of course you would! Well, that is all our "TWO HOUSEHOLD HELPERS" will cost you the first year--nothing thereafter, for the rest of your life. Have you ever considered how much an hour a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year is worth to you? Many workmen get $1 an hour--surely your time is worth 30 cents an hour. We guarantee these "Helpers" to save you _at least_ an hour a day, worth say $2.10 a week. Will you invest the 10 cents a week to gain $2 weekly? _Send the coupon._ And the value our "Helpers" give you in courage and inspiration, in peace of mind, in the satisfaction of progress, in health, happiness and the joy of living,--_is above price_. In mere dollars and cents, they will save their cost twelve times a year or more. _Send the coupon._ These helpers, "Lessons in Cooking" and "Household Engineering," were both prepared as home-study courses, and as such have been tried out and approved by thousands of our members. Thus they have the very highest recommendation. Nevertheless we are willing to send them in book form, on a week's free trial in your own home. _Send the coupon._ In these difficult days you really cannot afford to be without our "Helpers." You owe it to yourself and family to give them a fair trial. You cannot realize what great help they will give you till you try them--and the trial costs you nothing! _Send no money--send the coupon._ American School of Home Economics, Chicago. =_FREE TRIAL FOR ONE WEEK_= =A.S.H.E.--503 W. 69th Street, Chicago, Ill.= =Send your two "HOUSEHOLD HELPERS," prepaid on a week's trial, in the De Luxe binding. If satisfactory, I will send you $5 in full payment (OR) 50 cents and $1 per month for five months. Otherwise I will return one or both books in seven days. (Regular mail price $3.14 _each_).= =Name and= =Address= =_Reference_= * * * * * [Illustration] =MILK=--Nature's first food--is turned into an attractive, delicious dish that children and adults _enjoy_ when it is made into Junket. =Junket MADE _with_ MILK= is wholesome milk in tasty dessert form. It is eaten slowly and _enjoyed_--hence it is the better way of serving milk. Junket can now be made with Junket Powder, as well as with Tablets. The new Junket Powder is already sweetened and flavored. Made in 6 different flavors. Both Grocers and Druggists sell Junket _Send 4c. in stamps and your grocer's name, for sample (or 15c. for full size package of Junket Tablets; 20c. for full size package of Junket Powder) with recipes._ =THE JUNKET FOLKS, Little Falls, N.Y.= Chr. Hansen's Canadian Laboratory, Toronto, Ont. * * * * * [Illustration: =Angel Food Cake=] =8 Inches Square, 5 Inches High= You can be the best cake maker in your club or town. You can make the same Angel Food Cake and many other kinds that I make and sell at $3 a loaf-profit, $2, if you =Learn the Osborn Cake Making System= My methods are different. They are the result of twenty years experience as a domestic science expert. My way is easy to learn. It never fails. I have taught thousands. Let me send you full particulars FREE. =Mrs. Grace Osborn= =Dept.= K 5 =Bay City, Mich.= * * * * * ="The Art of Spending"= Tells how to get more for your money--how to live better and save more! How to budget expenses and record them _without household accounts_. 24 pp. illustrated, _10 cents_. =AM. SCHOOL OF HOME ECONOMICS. 503a W. 69th ST.. CHICAGO= * * * * * =This Big 5 Pound Bag of Delicious Shelled Peanuts $1.75= [Illustration: Send for Recipe Book] Direct from grower by Prepaid Parcels Post to your door. More and better peanuts than $5 will buy at stands or stores. Along with Recipe Book telling of over 60 ways to use them as foods. We guarantee prompt delivery and ship at once. 10 lbs, $3.00. Money back if not delighted. =EASTERN PEANUT CO., 10 A, HERTFORD, N.C.= * * * * * =Help! Help!! Help!!!= Our two new household helpers on 7 days' free trial! They save you _at least_ an hour a day, worth at only 30 cents an hour, $2.10 a week. Cost only the 10 cents a week for a year. Send postcard for details of these "helpers," our two new home-study courses, "_Household Engineering_" and "_Lessons in Cooking_," now in book form; _OR SEND_ $5.00 in full payment. Regular price $6.28. Full refund if not satisfactory. =AM. SCHOOL OF HOME ECONOMICS, 503a W. 69th STREET, CHICAGO= * * * * * =Salt Mackerel CODFISH, FRESH LOBSTER RIGHT FROM THE FISHING BOATS TO YOU= [Illustration: Sea Foods] =COOK BOOK FREE= Write for this book, "Sea Foods; How to Prepare and Serve Them." With it we send our list with delivered price of each kind of fish. USE COUPON BELOW FAMILIES who are fond of FISH can be supplied =DIRECT= from =GLOUCESTER, MASS.=, by the =FRANK E. DAVIS COMPANY=, with newly caught, =KEEPABLE OCEAN FISH=, choicer than any inland dealer could possibly furnish. We sell =ONLY TO THE CONSUMER DIRECT=, sending by =EXPRESS RIGHT TO YOUR HOME=. We =PREPAY= express on all orders east of Kansas. Our fish are pure, appetizing and economical and we want =YOU= to try some, subject to your complete approval or your money will be cheerfully refunded. =SALT MACKEREL=, fat, meaty, juicy fish, are delicious for breakfast. They are freshly packed in brine and will not spoil on your hands. =CODFISH=, as we salt it, is white, boneless and ready for instant use. It makes a substantial meal, a fine change from meat, at a much lower cost. =FRESH LOBSTER= is the best thing known for salads. Right fresh from the water, our lobsters simply are boiled and packed in PARCHMENT-LINED CANS. They come to you as the purest and safest lobsters you can buy and the meat is as crisp and natural as if you took it from the shell yourself. =FRIED CLAMS= are a relishable, hearty dish, that your whole family will enjoy. No other flavor is just like that of clams, whether fried or in a chowder. =FRESH MACKEREL=, perfect for frying, =SHRIMP= to cream on toast, =CRABMEAT= for Newburg or deviled, =SALMON= ready to serve, =SARDINES= of all kinds, =TUNNY= for salad, =SANDWICH FILLINGS= and every good thing packed here or abroad you can get direct from us and keep right on your pantry shelf for regular or emergency use. =FRANK E. DAVIS. CO. 61 Central Wharf Gloucester Mass.= =FRANK E. DAVIS CO. 61 Central Wharf Gloucester, Mass.= Please send me your latest Sea Food Cook Book and Fish Price List Name.................................. Street....................................... City.........................................State........... * * * * * We ask you to try =PRINCE BRAND= MACARONI or SPAGHETTI We know it will please you because of its superior qualities. Easy to cook, delicious in taste, very high in food value. Insist on getting our quality. =PRINCE MACARONI MFG. CO.= BOSTON * * * * * =OYSTERS CLAMS= DEHYDRATED These delightful delicacies preserved with all their salt water flavor =ALWAYS READY EASILY PREPARED= In powder form so that but ten minutes in hot water or milk makes them ready to serve. An oyster stew or broth; clam stew, bouillon and chowder always in the kitchen ready for instant use. Packed in bottles that make a quart of stew and in larger bottles that make 8 quarts. =OYSTERS, small bottles, 30 cents each CLAMS, small bottles, 30 cents each= We pay delivery costs Enjoy a bottle of each of these delicacies BISHOP-GIFFORD CO., Inc., Baldwin, L.I., N.Y. * * * * * =BREAKFASTS, LUNCHEONS _and_ DINNERS= =By MARY D. CHAMBERS= Should be in every home. It treats in detail the three meals a day, in their several varieties, from the light family affair to the formal and company function. Appropriate menus are given for each occasion. The well-balanced diet is kept constantly in view. Table china, glass and silver, and table linen, all are described and illustrated. In short, how to plan, how to serve and how to behave at these meals, is the author's motive in writing the book. This motive has been clearly and admirably well carried out. Table etiquette might well be the subtitle of the volume. Cloth, 150 pages. Illustrated, $1.25 net. We will send this book postpaid on receipt of price, $1.25 THE BOSTON COOKING SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO., Boston, Mass. * * * * * A Coal and Gas Range With Three Ovens That Really Saves [Illustration: Coal, Wood, and Gas Range] =Although it is less than four feet long= it can do every kind of cooking for any ordinary family by gas in warm weather, or by coal or wood when the kitchen needs heating. =There are two separate baking ovens=--one for coal and one for gas. Both ovens may be used at one time--or either one singly. In addition to the two baking ovens there is gas broiling oven. [Illustration: The Range that "Makes Cooking Easy"] =See the cooking surface= when you want to rush things--five burners for gas and four covers for coal. The illustrations show the wonderful pearl grey porcelain enamel finish--so neat and attractive. No more soiled hands, no more dust and smut. By simply passing a damp cloth over the surface you are able to clean your range instantly. They certainly do Make Cooking Easy. =Gold Medal= =Glenwood= Write to-day for handsome free booklet 118 that tells all about it, to Weir Stove Co., Taunton, Mass. Manufacturers of the Celebrated Glenwood Coal, Wood and Gas Ranges, Heating Stoves and Furnaces. * * * * * [Illustration: Suggestions for Christmas Gifts Would not many of your friends to whom you will make _Christmas Gifts_ be more pleased with a year's subscription to AMERICAN COOKERY ($1.50) than with any other thing of equal cost you could send them? The magazine will be of practical use to the recipient 365 days in the year and a constant and pleasant reminder of the donor. To make this gift more complete, we will send the December number so as to be received the day before Christmas, _together with a card reading as per cut herewith_. [Illustration] This card is printed in two colors on heavy stock and makes a handsome souvenir. We will make a Christmas Present of a copy of the =American Cook Book= to every present subscriber who sends us two "Christmas Gift" subscriptions at $1.50 each. =Practical and Useful Cookery Books= _By_ =MRS. JANET M. HILL=, _Editor of American Cookery_ =AMERICAN COOK BOOK $1.50= This cook book deals with the matter in hand in a simple, concise manner, mainly with the cheaper food products. A cosmopolitan cook book. Illustrated. =BOOK OF ENTRÉES $2.00= Over 800 recipes which open a new field of cookery and furnish a solution of the problem of "left overs." There is also a chapter of menus which will be of great help in securing the best combination of dishes. Illustrated. =CAKES, PASTRY AND DESSERT DISHES $2.00= Mrs. Hill's latest book. Practical, trustworthy and up-to-date. =CANNING, PRESERVING AND JELLY-MAKING $1.75= Modern methods of canning and jelly-making have simplified and shortened preserving processes. In this book the latest ideas in canning, preserving and jelly-making are presented. =COOKING FOR TWO $2.25= Designed to give chiefly in simple and concise style those things that are essential to the proper selection and preparation of a reasonable variety of food for the family of two individuals. A handbook for young housekeepers. Used as text in many schools. Illustrated from photographs. =PRACTICAL COOKING AND SERVING $2.50= This complete manual of how to select, prepare, and serve food recognizes cookery as a necessary art. Recipes are for both simple and most formal occasions; each recipe is tested. 700 pages. Used as a text-book in many schools. Illustrated. =SALADS, SANDWICHES AND CHAFING DISH DAINTIES $2.00= To the housewife who likes new and dainty ways of serving food, this book proves of great value. Illustrated. =THE UP-TO-DATE WAITRESS $1.75= A book giving the fullest and most valuable information on the care of the dining-room and pantry, the arrangement of the table, preparing and serving meals, preparing special dishes and lunches, laundering table linen, table decorations, and kindred subjects. The book is a guide to ideal service. We will send any of the above books, postpaid, upon receipt of price; OR, add one dollar ($1) to the price of any of the books and we will include a year's subscription for AMERICAN COOKERY. * * * * * =THE BOSTON COOKING SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO., Boston, Mass.=] * * * * * =Experience= has shown that the most satisfactory way to enlarge the subscription list of American Cookery is through its present subscribers, who personally can vouch for the value of the publication. To make it an object for subscribers to secure new subscribers, we offer the following premiums: CONDITIONS: Premiums are _not_ given _with_ a subscription or _for_ a renewal, but only to _present_ subscribers, for securing and sending to us _new_ yearly subscriptions at $1.50 each. The number of new subscriptions required to secure each premium is clearly stated below the description of each premium. Transportation _is_ or _is not_ paid as stated. * * * * * INDIVIDUAL INITIAL JELLY MOULDS Serve Eggs, Fish and Meats in Aspic: Coffee and Fruit Jelly; Pudding and other desserts with your initial letter raised on the top. Latest and daintiest novelty for the up-to-date hostess. To remove jelly take a needle and run it around inside of mould, then immerse in warm water; jelly will then come out in perfect condition. Be the first in your town to have these. You cannot purchase them at the stores. [Illustration: This shows the jelly turned from the mould.] [Illustration: This shows mould upside down!] Set of six (6), any initial, sent postpaid for (1) new subscription. Cash Price 75 cents. * * * * * "PATTY IRONS" [Illustration] As illustrated, are used to make dainty, flaky patés or timbales; delicate pastry cups for serving hot or frozen dainties, creamed vegetables, salads, shell fish, ices, etc. Each set comes securely packed in an attractive box with recipes and full directions for use. Sent, postpaid, for two (2) new subscriptions. Cash Price $1.50. * * * * * =SILVER'S SURE CUT FRENCH FRIED POTATO CUTTER= [Illustration: HOW IT CUTS] One of the most modern and efficient kitchen helps ever invented. A big labor and time saver. Sent, prepaid, for one (1) new subscription. Cash Price 75 cents. * * * * * =FRENCH ROLL BREAD PAN= [Illustration: Open End] Best quality blued steel. Six inches wide by 13 long. One pan sent, prepaid, for one (1) new subscription. Cash Price 75 cents. * * * * * =SEAMLESS VIENNA BREAD PAN= [Illustration] Two of these pans sent, postpaid, for one (1) new subscription. Cash Price 75 cents for two pans. * * * * * =HEAVY TIN BORDER MOULD= [Illustration] =Imported, Round, 6 inch= Sent, prepaid, for one (1) new subscription. Cash Price =75 cents=. * * * * * =THE BOSTON COOKING SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO., Boston, Mass.= =PREMIUMS PASTRY BAG AND FOUR TUBES= (Bag not shown in cut) [Illustration] A complete outfit. Practical in every way. Made especially for Bakers and Caterers. Eminently suitable for home use. The set sent, prepaid, for one (1) new subscription. Cash price, =75 cents=. * * * * * =THE A. M. C. ORNAMENTER= [Illustration] Rubber pastry bag and twelve brass tubes, assorted designs, for cake decorating. This set is for fine work, while the set described above is for more general use. Packed in a wooden box, prepaid, for two (2) new subscriptions. Cash price, =$1.50=. * * * * * ="RAPIDE" TEA INFUSER= [Illustration] Economic, clean and convenient. Sent, prepaid, for one (1) subscription. Cash price, =75 cents=. * * * * * =CAKE ORNAMENTING SYRINGE= [Illustration] For the finest cake decorating. Twelve German silver tubes, fancy designs. Sent, prepaid, for four (4) new subscriptions. Cash price, =$3.00=. * * * * * =HOME CANDY MAKING OUTFIT= [Illustration] Thermometer, dipping wire, moulds, and most of all, a book written by a professional and practical candy maker for home use. Sent, prepaid, for five (5) new subscriptions. Cash price, =$3.75=. * * * * * =The only reliable and sure way to make Candy, Boiled Frosting, etc., is to use a THERMOMETER= [Illustration] Here is just the one you need. Made especially for the purpose by one of the largest and best manufacturers in the country. Sent, postpaid, for two (2) new subscriptions. Cash price, =$1.50=. * * * * * [Illustration] =VEGETABLE CUTTERS= Assorted shapes. Ordinarily sell for 15 cents each. Six cutters--all different---prepaid, for one (1) new subscription. Cash price, =75 cents=. * * * * * =THE BOSTON COOKING SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO., Boston, Mass.= =Bon Ami= _for mirrors_ [Illustration] [Illustration: "_Hasn't Scratched Yet_" Cake or Powder _whichever you prefer_] Watch how easily Bon Ami and I clean this mirror. A damp cloth and a little Bon Ami are all one needs. When the Bon Ami film has dried--a few brisk rubs with a dry cloth and presto! every speck of dust and dirt has vanished. So it is with everything. The magic touch of Bon Ami brightens up windows, brasses, nickel, linoleum and white woodwork. * * * * * _"Americas Most Famous Dessert"_ [Illustration] =JELL-O In Whipped Form= Of all forms of whipped Jell-O the Bavarian creams are most popular, and they may well be, for in no other way can these favorite dishes be made so easily and cheaply. Jell-O is whipped with an egg-beater just as cream is, and does not require the addition of cream, eggs, sugar or any of the expensive ingredients used in making old-style Bavarian creams. Begin to whip the jelly when it is cool and still liquid--before it begins to congeal--and whip till it is of the consistency of whipped cream. Use a Ladd egg-beater and keep the Jell-O cold while whipping by setting the dish in cracked ice, ice water or very cold water. A tin or aluminum quart measure is an ideal utensil for the purpose. Its depth prevents spattering, and tin and aluminum admit quickly the chill of the ice or cold water. PINEAPPLE BAVARIAN CREAM Dissolve a package of Lemon Jell-O in half a pint of boiling water and add half a pint of juice from a can of pineapple. When cold and still liquid whip to consistency of whipped cream. Add a cup of the shredded pineapple. Pour into mould and set in a cold place to harden. Turn from mould and garnish with sliced pineapple, cherries or grapes. =The Genesee Pure Food Company= _Two Factories_ _Leroy N.Y._ _Bridgeburg, Ont._ [Illustration: =Baker Breakfast Cocoa= is pure and good, delicious and nutritious. _Genuine made only by_ =Walter Baker & Co. Ltd.= Established 1780 DORCHESTER, MASS. _Booklet of Choice Recipes sent free_] * * * * * =Established 1858 Sawyer's Crystal BLUE AND AMMONIA= The Ammonia loosens the dirt, making washing easy. The Blue gives the only perfect finish. [Illustration: _SEE THAT TOP._] [Illustration] _The People's Choice for Over Sixty Years_ For the Laundry SAWYER CRYSTAL BLUE CO. 88 Broad St., Boston, Mass. * * * * * [Illustration: =SAVE MEAT= by serving more stuffing when you serve roast meats, poultry, fish and game. If this dressing is flavored with Bell's Seasoning it adds to the pleasure of the meal. ASK GROCERS FOR [Illustration: BELL'S SEASONING]] * * * * * =MISS CURTIS' SNOWFLAKE Marshmallow Crême= =The Original and Best= [Illustration] Inexpensive and easy to use. Makes delicious desserts. Awarded Gold Medal at Panama-Pacific Exposition. Avoid imitations. The name EMMA E. CURTIS is your guarantee of purity and quality. _Sold by Grocers Everywhere_ [Illustration: _Emma E. Curtis_] MELROSE, MASS. * * * * * =VOSE PIANOS= have been established more than =70 YEARS=. By our system of payments every family in moderate circumstances can own a VOSE piano. We take old instruments in exchange and deliver the new piano to your home free of expense. Write for catalog D and explanation: =VOSE & SONS PIANO CO., 160 Boylston St., Boston, Mass.= * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Page 246, "Nutritión" changed to "Nutrition" (Food and Nutrition) Page 255, "millenium" changed to "millennium" (the millennium for housekeepers) Page 259, "London" changed to "Loudon" (Loudon, I shall do) Page 271, "di titians" changed to "dietitians" (pestilence, dietitians tell) Page 282, "Aprciot" changed to "Apricot" (Apricot Puffs with Custard) Page 287, "supreme" changed to "suprême" (the suprême sauce) Page 322, word obscured, "of" presumed and inserted into text (our system of) Page 322, "in" changed to "to" (piano to your home) This magazine uses both to-day and today. 
30897	----	scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project. A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL OR, MARGARET'S SATURDAY MORNINGS The Ideal Series for Girls * * * * * A little Cook Book for a Little Girl BY CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON Cloth decorative, small 12mo. 75 cents; carriage paid, 85 cents The simple, vivacious style makes this little manual as delightful reading as a story-book. A Little Housekeeping Book for a Little Girl; OR MARGARET'S SATURDAY MORNINGS BY CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON Cloth decorative, small 12mo. 75 cents; carriage paid, 85 cents A little girl, home from school on Saturday mornings, finds out how to make helpful use of her spare time. A Little Candy Book for a Little Girl BY AMY L. WATERMAN Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color, small, 12mo. 75 cents; carriage paid, 85 cents This is a book of special appeal, as it explains in simple fashion the processes of making delicious fudges, fondants, nut dainties and the like. A Little Sewing Book for a Little Girl BY LOUISE FRANCES CORNELL Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color, small, 12mo. 75 cents; carriage paid, 85 cents A splendid volume to encourage little girls in the study of the useful and beautiful art of the needle. * * * * * THE PAGE COMPANY 53 BEACON ST., BOSTON, MASS. A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL OR, MARGARET'S SATURDAY MORNINGS By Caroline French Benton AUTHOR OF "A LITTLE COOK BOOK FOR A LITTLE GIRL" Boston THE PAGE COMPANY Publishers _Copyright, 1906_ BY THE PAGE COMPANY PUBLISHERS' NOTE This little book was originally published under the title _Saturday Mornings_, but there has been some criticism of that title because it is not sufficiently descriptive of the contents of the book. The Publishers, consequently, have thought it wise in the present edition to change the title to _A Little Housekeeping Book for a Little Girl_ OR MARGARET'S SATURDAY MORNINGS. This change has the advantage also of making the title uniform with the other titles in the series-- _A Little Cook Book for a Little Girl_, _A Little Sewing Book for a Little Girl, etc._ Thanks are due the editor of _Good Housekeeping_ for permission to reproduce the greater part of this book from the serial in that magazine. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. MARGARET'S CHRISTMAS TREE 13 II. THE KITCHEN FIRE 19 III. THE DINING-ROOM TABLE 33 IV. WASHING DISHES 57 V. THE CARE OF THE BEDROOMS 70 VI. SWEEPING AND DUSTING 84 VII. THE BATHROOM; BRASSES, GRATES, OILCLOTHS, AND VESTIBULE 99 VIII. HOUSECLEANING; CELLAR AND ATTIC 110 IX. LAUNDRY WORK 122 X. THE LINEN CLOSET; PANTRIES; POLISHING SILVER; THE CARE OF THE REFRIGERATOR; CLEANING THE LAMPS 133 XI. MARKETING AND KEEPING ACCOUNTS 148 XII. THE DAY'S WORK 161 CHAPTER I MARGARET'S CHRISTMAS TREE About Christmas time Margaret was accustomed to see things tucked out of sight whenever she came around, and her feelings were never hurt when her Pretty Aunt, or her Other Aunt, or her mother, or her grandmother said: "Don't you want to run down-stairs a little while, dear!" or, "Margaret, would you mind staying out of the sitting-room all this morning?" But this Christmas everybody said these things twice as often as usual, and Margaret wondered about it. "Mother," she said one day, "if you were a little girl and every one said 'Run away, now,' over and over, twice as many times as other Christmases, what would you think?" Her mother laughed. "Well," she said, "I suppose I should think I was going to have twice as many presents as usual." Margaret drew a long breath. "Would you?" she asked, thoughtfully. "Two pairs of skates, and two sets of furs, and two boxes of handkerchiefs, and two pink kimonos, and six books; that would be twice as many presents as last year. But what does one little girl want with twos? Now if I was twins--" The Pretty Aunt laughed. "Let me explain it to her," she said. "Margaret, how would you like two Christmas trees, one for everybody, just as usual, with your presents on it, and one little tree, all for yourself, with more presents? Would you like that for a change?" Margaret said she thought she would, but it seemed very queer. Two trees, and only one little girl! Now if she really had been twins-- "Twins, indeed!" said the Other Aunt. "Just wait till you see, and perhaps you will be glad there's only one of you!" And everybody laughed again except Margaret, who thought it all very queer indeed. When Christmas morning came she jumped up in a hurry and waked every one up calling out, "Merry Christmas!" and then she danced with impatience because it took them so long to get ready. But at last the doors of the parlor were thrown open and she rushed in. There stood the great, beautiful tree, hung with tinsel and bright balls, and twinkling with beautiful lights, and on its branches were bundles and bundles, tied with red ribbons and holly, and on the floor were more bundles, and she forgot about the little tree she had meant to look for. But by and by, when she had opened all her presents, and made a pile of them on the piano, and thanked everybody for them, she whispered: "Mother, was there to be a little tree, all for me?" "Why, of course," said her mother, smiling, "we nearly forgot, didn't we? Suppose you look behind the library door?" Margaret ran and looked, and, sure enough, there was the tree, but such a queer one! It was small, and had no candles and no ornaments. The corner was dark and she could not see very well, but it seemed to be hung with things that looked like dust-pans and whisk-brooms. She stood looking at it, wondering if it was all a joke. Just then her father saw her and came to pull the tree out where she could see it, and, sure enough, there was a dust-pan tied on with a red tape, and a whisk-broom with another red tape, and a little sweeping-cap with a red bow, some gingham aprons and white aprons, and brown towels and red-and-white towels, and dust-cloths, all with red M's in their corners; and put at the top was a little book tied on the tree with a big red bow. Her mother took this down and handed it to her, and every one stood and looked on and smiled because she was so surprised. When Margaret looked at the cover of the book she knew what was inside in a minute, because, painted on the cover was a little girl who looked just like her with a big apron on, and a sweeping-cap, holding a broom in one hand and a dust-pan in the other, and above, in bright red letters, were the words, Saturday Mornings. "Oh, it's for me!" she cried, delighted. "It's like my own cook-book, only it tells how to clean house instead of cook. I love to clean house! I love to make beds! I love to wash dishes! I just _love_ to sweep! May I wear that beautiful cap, and are all those dish-towels for me, and is that my very own dust-pan?" Then she ran to the tree and got everything down. First she put on all the aprons, one on top of another, with the ruffled waiting-on-table apron on top of the rest, and she put the cap on her head, and hung all the dish-towels over one arm and all the dusters over the other, and gathered up the brooms and dust-pan in her arms and sat down in a corner with her book. "This is the best of all," she said, soberly. "My other presents are lovely, too, my books and my gold heart pin, and my white rocking-chair for my own room, and the mittens grandmother knit for me with the lace stitches down the back, but I like my little book best, and all the things on my own little tree most. This is the nicest Christmas I ever, ever had! The name of my book is Saturday Mornings, because other days I have to go to school, but Saturdays I can sweep and dust and wash dishes. What fun it will be! I don't know which chapter sounds best." She hugged the little dust-pan and shook out the dish-towels. "Oh, I just can't wait to begin," she said. CHAPTER II THE KITCHEN FIRE Although Margaret had become pretty well acquainted with the kitchen during the year she was learning to cook she had never quite understood how to manage the kitchen range or the fire, because Bridget always attended to that part for her. But at the very first lesson in the Saturday Morning Class her mother, who was to be the teacher that day, said the subject would be "Ranges and Fires," because it was the beginning of all housekeeping. Margaret put on her biggest, longest-sleeved gingham apron, got a hearth brush, a dust-pan, the little dish which held the stove blacking, brush and polisher, rolled up her sleeves and prepared to listen. "The reason why so many women find cooking hard work," her mother began, "is because they do not understand their range or stove. They cannot make a fire grow hot quickly, or make it cooler if it is too hot; they do not know how to get what the cook-books call a 'moderate oven.' 'We never could understand about drafts and things,' they say, but the real truth of the matter is that they are too lazy to try and learn, I'm afraid, because it is so very simple that even a little girl can learn about it in ten minutes. The only way to be a good housekeeper is to understand all about a fire and how to keep a kitchen range in a good temper." Margaret laughed at this, but her mother said stoves were just like people, and sometimes would refuse to do as they were told, and were cross and sulky; but they could be as pleasant and smiling and obliging as a good little girl. Then she took off the covers and explained all about the inside of the range. "You see," she began, "the fire is in a sort of box lined with heavy brick. Now, if the coals come up to the very top of this, or lie on its edges, they will crack the brick as they get heated, and so spoil it, and fire-brick is very expensive and troublesome to replace. You can heat the sides and bottom very hot, and it will not hurt it, but not the top edges. So, in putting on coal you must never let it quite fill the box, and after you set the scuttle down on the floor you must take the long poker and feel all around on top of the ovens and see if any bit has rolled there, and bring it back where it belongs. If it should roll down the sides you could not get it out, and it would spoil the draft and injure the stove. Now if you understand all this we will shake out the coal and make a new fire." "Oh, let me shake!" exclaimed Margaret, and before her mother could stop her she had put in the shaker and moved it about so quickly that the ashes came out of the open covers and drafts and filled the room, and both she and her mother were coughing and choking. Her mother stopped her. "That isn't the way to shake a fire," she said. "The covers must all go on first, and everything be shut up tight." Then she showed her the two slides over the oven doors, and the others in front, and pushed them shut. The two in the stovepipe were opened, so the ashes could go up that way, and the covers were tightly put in their places. "Now," she said, "you may shake." So Margaret shook and shook until her arms were tired, but though the fine ashes all came out, there was a handful of large coals which would not go through the grate. These, her mother explained, were partly good, unburned coal, and partly poor, hard bits, called clinkers. Some people just turned them all out with the ashes and threw them away, but this was wasteful. They must be picked over and the good bits burned again. Margaret hunted up a big pair of old gloves of her father's, and with these on she picked out the good pieces of coal and laid them on one side, and then she tipped the grate by turning the stove handle quite around, and the clinkers all fell into the ash-pan and the grate was left empty. A big newspaper was next spread on the floor and the ash-pan carefully drawn out over it and emptied into a scuttle kept ready for this, so it could be easily carried to the place where the ashes were kept, and emptied into the can there. She put the empty pan on the paper, and with her brush swept out all the cracks inside the stove, up and down, here and there, till no ashes were to be seen anywhere. Then the pan was put back. The ovens were opened next, and these, too, swept out with a clean whisk-broom, and away back in the corners they found several bits of toast and such things all dried to a crisp, which Bridget had not seen at all. When all the ashes were taken up and those on the newspaper cleared away, her mother said, "Now we are ready for the fire." "First we put a crumpled paper on the bottom; on this we lay crossed sticks of kindling, a good many, because this is to be a coal fire; if we were going to burn wood we would not need so many; we must shut the little slide in the front of the stove directly before the fire, and open the one at the bottom, so the smoke will go up. Look and see if the two drafts in the pipe are open; if not, the room will be full of smoke as soon as we start the kindling. The dampers into the ovens must be shut, too, so the fire will have nothing to distract its attention; if we left them open it would think it had not only to burn, but to get the ovens hot, too. Now if you are ready you can light the paper." In a moment Margaret heard the wood roaring well, then she took off a cover and sprinkled on one shovel of coal and closed the top again; as soon as she saw by peeping in that this was red, she put on another, scattering it evenly all around, and presently she added a third shovelful, and by this time the wood was well burned away and the coal was hot, so she knew the fire was made. The lesson then took up heating the ovens, which was still more important. Her mother showed Margaret how to push in and out the dampers over the oven doors, and explained the shutter inside which they worked. "When we want the oven hot we pull the shutter open to let the heat go all around the oven. When we want to cool it we shut the shutter. The first thing to learn about a stove is this: find out whether the damper is pushed in or pulled out to heat the ovens; you can tell by taking off the top covers and watching, for you can see in that way how the shutter works. Some push in and others pull out, and each stove may be different. These push in when you want to get the oven hot. Now, if you want to cook on top of the stove, and want all the heat up there, of course you do not need the ovens heated, so you shut them away. When you are all done with the fire never let it burn uselessly, but close it up, and so keep it. The reason of the draft in the front of the stove at the bottom, is this: the air rushes in up through the coal and on into the chimney, and makes the fire go hard. If you want to have it go slowly and not waste the coal, of course you must shut this tight. The other draft, directly in front of the fire, lets the cool air right in on the hot coals, and keeps them from burning up rapidly, so if you want a hot fire you must shut this, and when you want the fire to go down you must open it. Is that plain?" "Yes," said Margaret, thoughtfully. "When I bake I make the ovens hot by pushing in the dampers, and opening the slide at the bottom and shutting it at the top. When I want to make something on top, I pull out the dampers to get the ovens cool, and I open the one at the bottom and shut the one at the top. When I'm all done I leave the oven dampers out, shut the bottom draft in front and open the top one. Then the fire gets cool. But what do I do to the chimney dampers?" "Sure enough," said her mother, "we almost forgot those. You see the queer handles on them--thin and straight; those are like the flat plates inside the pipe that turn just as they do. When you want the fire to burn hard you turn the handle along the pipe, and that turns the plate the same way, and the heat can get out and make a good draft. But if you are shutting up the fire you turn the handle across the pipe, and that makes the plate turn straight across, too, and stops the heat from getting out, and so the fire dies down." "Oh, yes," said Margaret, "that's easy to understand. But what do people do who don't have coal fires? Sometimes they have wood to burn." "But the dampers and drafts all work the same way," said her mother. "Wood is nice and clean to burn, and makes a quick, hot fire, but it has to be watched all the time or it will go out. Coal makes a steady heat, and so for most things it is better to use. Now look in and see how things are going." Margaret raised the covers and found a bed of bright red coals. Her mother told her to put on coal at once; if she waited the fire would grow still hotter,--what was called white hot,--and then it would be spoiled. Coal must always go on before this point, but not too much, which would be wasteful. A bright, low fire was always best. "Now leave the drafts all open just a moment," said her mother, "to let the coal gas burn away, and then you can shut the fire up and it will keep just right for hours. And one thing more--never let the coal come up near the covers of the stove, or the great heat will warp these and spoil them; they will always have cracks around their edges, and the heat will be wasted." "Bridget never lets her fire go out at night," said Margaret, as she shut the fire all up. "She likes to keep it a whole week and then let the stove get cold and make it all over again on Saturdays." "Yes," said her mother, "that is a very good way to do, for it does not use up the kindling, and it takes no more coal to keep the fire all night than to start a new one every morning. But if you ever notice how she manages you will see that she shakes out the ashes at night, puts on coal, and lets the gas burn off, just as we have done. Then she shuts up the oven drafts, and the one at the bottom, and opens the one in front of the fire as we did; in the morning she finds her fire exactly right; all she has to do is to make it a little brighter and hotter, so she shuts the draft in front of the coal and opens the one at the bottom, to get the air to rush up through the coal, and sets the drafts in the pipe open, too, so the hot air can get out; then when the fire burns up red she shakes out the ashes a little and puts on fresh coal, and it is ready for the day, and as hot as she wants it." "I don't see why she ever lets it go out at all," said Margaret. "Why does it burn worse on Fridays, and have to be built all over on Saturdays?" Her mother laughed. "Why, you see," she said, "the ashes will get into the corners and the clinkers into the grate in spite of all the care one can take, so once a week she takes everything out as we have done and makes a nice, clean, new fire. But now we are all done except blacking the stove. Generally that ought to be done when the fire is not hot, but we were talking and I did not have you do it then; next time we will manage better." Margaret wet the blacking a little, dipped in her brush, and scrubbed the stove well all over, especially in the corners. Then she polished it with the dry side of the brush till it shone like a mirror. The little knobs on the doors she rubbed with a bit of nickel polish she found in another box, and used a dry flannel cloth on them last. Her mother explained that it was necessary to keep a stove very bright and shining, or it would wear out, and, besides that, a bright one made the kitchen look tidy and attractive. "Some people just paint the whole stove over once or twice a year with a black enamel, and never polish it at all, and perhaps that is a good way for very busy people to do, but I like the old-fashioned way better myself. Shine it a little every day in the week, and once in every few days give it a good thorough blacking and polishing when the fire is out, and you will make the stove wear a long time and keep it in good working order as well. A clean range, one that is really clean and well cared for inside and out, is always good-natured and happy, and does the very best it knows how for you when you try and cook, but one that is full of ashes and clinkers, with a face all grimy and dusty and gray, gets sullen and cross, and will not try and please anybody. You must keep it good-natured. Just see how proud and happy it looks now." Margaret smiled admiringly at the shiny range and bright fire. "Sometimes Bridget puts things in her stove that make all the house smell," she said. "I am never going to put anything into mine but nice, clean wood and coal." "The reason Bridget puts them in," her mother replied, "is a good one. I often burn up small quantities of garbage myself, but I never have a bit of odor, for all I have to do is to open the drafts in the chimney and at the bottom, and shut those going into the ovens and the one in front of the fire, and then all the smell goes straight up the chimney. If you are careful you can often get rid of little things in the kitchen by burning them, but you should be sure and never let the odor get out into the room." Just then Bridget came into the kitchen and said it was time for her to get lunch. "See, Bridget," Margaret exclaimed, proudly, "we blacked the range and made it smile all over. It just loves to be clean and shiny!" "It does that," said Bridget. "I guess it'll bake sponge cakes for lunch to say it feels glad." "Oh, goody!" said Margaret, as she ran to take off her big apron and wash her hands. CHAPTER III THE DINING-ROOM TABLE The second lesson in Margaret's book really took her a whole month to learn perfectly, because there were so many things to remember. One Saturday she studied about the breakfast-table, and during the next week she practised the lesson over every day; the next week she took the luncheon-table and laid that and waited on it, and the third and fourth weeks she learned all about the dinner-table, and that was hardest of all. But, as her mother said, if she learned in one single month to be a perfect waitress she was an unusually bright maid! BREAKFAST The first Saturday morning her Other Aunt woke her rather early, and told her after she was ready to put on a nice white apron and over it a fresh gingham apron to protect it, or, if she did not feel quite sure she could keep it fresh even so, to put on the gingham one and bring down the white one to put on when everything was ready. The dining-room was dark when they went into it, and smelled of the dinner the night before; they threw open the windows and let the wind sweep through while Margaret got the carpet-sweeper and took up the few crumbs which had not been found and taken away after the last meal. Then they closed the windows again, and dusted about where it was necessary, leaving the thorough dusting until later in the day. "We are going to have oranges for a first course at breakfast," said her aunt, coming in with some in her hands, "and we will put them on the table now. See how nice and cold they are because they have been in the refrigerator all night. Some people leave their fruit-dish standing on the sideboard all the time, and all the oranges and apples and bananas grow warm and stale, instead of being cold and crisp and refreshing. Put a white centrepiece in the middle of the table, and we will pile these in a flat dish on it instead of using the pot of ferns we sometimes have. It is always nice to have something pretty in the middle of the table." Margaret was standing before the drawer in the sideboard hesitating whether she should bring a table-cloth or not. Then she saw a large hemstitched square in a corner, and remembered that her mother had said she had just bought some new cloths for breakfast and luncheon, and that made it still harder to decide. What should they have on the breakfast-table? They usually had little squares of linen, one under each plate and larger ones under the platter and tray, but perhaps she was to learn some new way this morning. Her aunt came and looked over her shoulder. "For breakfast and luncheon we do not use a table-cloth," she said. "Few people do nowadays. Some use the doilies we have been using, and others use a small cloth with a fancy border, such as fringe, or a narrow pattern; the dinner-cloth, you know, is large and heavy, not suitable for a simple meal. But now we have some nice small cloths, which are less trouble to put on than the doilies. See, this is a square which lies on the table with a point hanging over each side, leaving the table corners bare. The plates go on it, but still it looks informal and pretty. Here is a pad just the right size to go under it. You must always put a pad or something of the kind under everything you use on the table; under the doilies, you know, we put squares of felt, and under the big dinner-cloth a large piece of double Canton flannel; if we did not, the varnish on the table-top would be spoiled in no time. Now let us get the silver." There were always six places laid at the table, so Margaret counted out the knives, forks and spoons, and brought them over from the drawer. At each place they put a knife on the right, the sharp edge of the blade toward the plate, and outside that a dessert-spoon for cereal and a teaspoon for coffee; on the left was a fork, and then a napkin. At the top of the place, directly in front, they put a tumbler at the right and a small plate for bread and butter at the left, with a little knife, called a spreader, on it. They then got out small fruit-plates, and on each they laid first, a small, clean doily, then a finger-bowl with a little water in it,--not very much, as it was not intended to swim in, the aunt said,--and on the edge of the plate a fruit-knife and an orange spoon. These plates were laid all around the table at the different places. At the top of the table where her father was to sit Margaret put a carving knife and fork, but took them away when she found there would be bacon for breakfast, and it would be passed around with a fork and spoon on the small platter; if there had happened to be beefsteak she would have left them on, as then they would have been needed. At the other end of the table, where her mother was to sit, they put a tray covered with a fresh napkin, and arranged on it the sugar-bowl, the cream-pitcher, the tray-bowl, and a small pitcher for hot water. At the right near by, the cups and saucers were arranged, each cup standing in its own saucer, not piled up. As it was cold weather Margaret was told she must bring in hot water and half-fill them just before the meal was ready, so they would be hot and not chill the coffee; her mother would empty the water in the tray-bowl when she was ready to use them. Then they brought out of the china-closet the dishes which were to go into the kitchen to be heated: the dish for cereal, the small, deep plates to use with it, the plates and vegetable dish, and the round platter. "Never serve a hot cereal in a cold dish, or use cold dishes to put it in on the table," said the aunt. "And never, never ask anybody to eat hot bacon and potatoes, or anything else which has just come from the fire, on a cold plate. It is no trouble to warm everything, and it makes just the difference between a good meal and a poor one. A famous man once said that if he could have only one thing for his dinner he would choose a hot plate." Margaret laughed as she began to carry out the dishes. Her aunt stopped her. "You have a dinner platter," she said, "get the pretty round platter; always use that for luncheon and breakfast, because it looks more informal, and seems more appropriate. And we must stop a minute to put on the salts; we forgot them." They did not have shakers, because Margaret's mother thought small, low, open silver or glass bowls were prettier; these they filled freshly with salt and shook them evenly, and placed them near the centrepiece at the ends of the table. They only put on two because the table was small; sometimes, however, they used four or six, when guests were there. While the dishes were heating, and Bridget was getting breakfast ready, they filled the glasses and put the butter balls on the bread and butter plates; then, Margaret had her lesson in waiting on the table. "After we sit down," her aunt said, "pass the fruit, going to each person's left, so he can take it with the right hand and hold the dish low down. Then put the dish back in the middle of the table, and leave it there through the meal. If there are flowers or a plant on the table, serve the fruit from the sideboard, and put it back there when you have passed it. If you have berries or melons to serve, those may be ready on the sideboard before breakfast, and a plate with a finger-bowl on it can stand at each place. The berries may be passed, and each person can lift off the finger-bowl and doily at the same time and set it near the plate and serve himself to the berries. Melons are usually set on the table before breakfast on each plate, the finger-bowl standing near by, but if you want to have it more elegantly arranged than this, put the melons on small plates, and after the finger-bowl is removed, lay this plate down on top of the one standing already on the table. Just now it is considered very nice to nearly always have a plate in front of one. I will tell you more about that when we come to serving dinner. "You can have the hot plates brought into the room when the cereal comes in with its hot dishes, and you can lift off a fruit-plate, standing on each person's right, and lay down a hot plate with the small cereal dish already on it, and when all are around you can pass the cereal, and then the sugar and cream." "But," objected Margaret, "I can't carry a tray and take off a plate and put down a plate all at once, because I don't have three hands, only just two!" "No, of course not," smiled her aunt. "But you don't use a tray in changing plates. You slip off the soiled one with the left hand and lay down the clean one with the right, holding this clean one over the other. It really saves time in the end to manage in this way, as you will see. After the cereal, if those small plates have been so good-sized as to well cover the hot plates underneath them and so protect them from cream, all you have to do is to take these off, leaving the larger plates, using your tray this time and standing always on the right; put the first dish on the tray and take the next in your hand and carry them to the sideboard and leave them there and then take the next two, and so on; never pile your plates. Then pass the bacon around, going to the left, as with the fruit, and then the potato and muffins. Bring the cups on the tray, as your mother fills them, and set them down carefully at each person's right; do not offer a cup to any one, because coffee is so easily spilled in taking it off and on a tray and handing it about. "Few people would ever have fruit, cereal, hot things, and then cakes, too; but some day you may have fruit, bacon or meat, and then cakes, so you had better learn how to manage with them. Just have ready small, hot plates, and bring one at a time and exchange it with the meat plate as you did before; you must put on two forks instead of one at the left of each plate when you lay the table, if you are to have a second hot course. "You do not take off the crumbs at breakfast because it is such an informal meal, but you must watch and see if any tumbler needs refilling, or if anybody needs a second butter ball, and supply it without being asked. The meat platter, the dish of potatoes, and the muffins or toast should also be offered twice to every one. Your mother, however, will ask if any one wants a second cup of coffee, and then you bring her the cup, and after she has rinsed it out by pouring in hot water from her little pitcher, she will fill it and you can carry it back and set it down again. Now that is all, I think, and you can wash your hands and take off your gingham apron and ask Bridget if you may call down the family; that is, if you may say to your mother, very quietly and politely, 'Breakfast is served!'" Margaret laughed, and smoothed down her nice crisp white apron proudly as she left the room. LUNCHEON Laying the luncheon-table proved to be exactly like laying the breakfast-table, and, as her aunt said, if they were laying a supper-table that would have also been done in the same way; so really all Margaret had to learn was how to lay two tables, one for breakfast, luncheon or supper, and one for dinner. However, her aunt thought they would use doilies instead of the lunch-cloth for a change, so Margaret would not think her lesson did not amount to much, and she got these out at lunch time and put one down for each person with its square of felt underneath it. In the middle she put a large doily which matched the others, and added one or two smaller ones, one for bread, one for a dish of olives, and so on, arranging them evenly on the table. She put a dish of ferns on for a centrepiece and a tray for tea for her mother at the end. "If," said her aunt, "you wish a formal luncheon you lay a pretty plate--a cold one--in front of each place, and exchange this for a hot one when you pass the main dish. But when you are just laying a family table you can put a hot plate down and merely pass the food as usual. You need not put the dishes of food on the table--just bring them from the sideboard. But remember at every meal never to let the food get cold. The vegetables you can keep in covered dishes, of course, but after you have passed everything so you can leave the room, carry the meat out and put it in the oven until you want to pass it a second time. "If you are to have salad, have this ready on the sideboard before lunch, with its plates, and, if you are to have them, the crackers and cheese also. You can take off the soiled plates after the meat course, and lay down clean ones just as before, standing at each person's right, taking off the soiled plate with the left hand and laying down the clean one with the right, holding it above the other. Then pass the salad, on the tray to each one's left, and next the salad dressing or crackers or olives, or whatever goes with it. After the salad, crumb the table, both at luncheon and supper, but if you use doilies do not take the regular crumb-knife and tray, but carry a folded napkin in your right hand and gently sweep off the crumbs into the tray; a knife might scratch the table, and would certainly sound disagreeable against the wood. "The dessert, which may be fruit, should be ready before the meal on the sideboard, with the plates and finger-bowls. When the last course before it is taken off and the crumbs removed, there are no plates on the table at all; it is the one time when it is cleared. So all you have to do is to lay down the plates and finger-bowls with the fruit-knives and spoons and pass the fruit. If you have cake, or preserves, or dessert of any kind instead of fruit, you do just the same way; lay down the plates and pass the things." "But what do I do with the tray and teacups?" Margaret asked. "Take them off when you do the last plates before the table is crumbed," said her aunt. "Take off the bread and butter plates, too. A good way to do this is to take the large plate on the tray and carry the small one in the hand. Of course the large bread plate is removed, too, and any dish of jelly or olives which is done with. But dishes of salted nuts or candies are left on, to keep the table looking pretty. Now I really think that is all. Do you think you can serve luncheon as well as you did breakfast?" Margaret said she thought she ought to do twice as well, because it was really the same thing over again. DINNER If the lesson on dinner had come first Margaret would have thought it pretty hard, but after the other two she had just had, it seemed easy enough. This time she put on the large pad and the long, heavy dinner-cloth; her aunt had to stand at the opposite end of the table and help her with these, and she warned her to always be very careful not to crease the cloth, because a mussed cloth was worse than none at all. "Be careful always to have table linen spotless," she said. "If anything gets on the cloth at dinner, as soon as the meal is over put a cup under the place and pour a tiny stream of hot water through and then rub the place gently with a clean, dry cloth and smooth it out with your hand; leave the cloth on the table till morning, and usually it will be smooth and dry; if not, take a flat-iron then and quickly and lightly iron the place; then fold the cloth and lay it away. Most people cannot have a new cloth on every night, but no one need ever have on a cloth that is not clean; a good housekeeper never does, so of course you never will." Margaret said she certainly never would. "One reason why we use doilies or a lunch-cloth for breakfast and luncheon and supper is because if these get soiled it is easy to wash them out at once; it makes housework simpler in the end to have them instead of using table-cloths three times a day, which are large and very troublesome to wash. People who once learn to use them never go back to the old-fashioned way of doing. Now get a pretty centrepiece and put that on in the middle, and bring the bunch of roses from the parlor; we will have them to-night instead of the fern-dish, because we want an especially nice table for you." After the flowers were on, the silver was laid, almost as at breakfast. A knife at the right, blade to the plate; a dessert-spoon beyond, for soup; two forks at the left; the bread and butter plate at the top, at the left, and the tumbler also at the top, to the right. If they were having a company dinner, Margaret was told, the bread and butter plate would not be used, for then a dinner roll would be laid in the napkin and no butter served at all. The napkin, as before, went to the left, beyond the forks, and a large, cold plate was laid down between the silver. The salts were freshly filled and put on, and a glass dish for jelly at one end of the table. In front of her father's place they laid a carving cloth, and on it a large knife and fork, putting the tips on a little rest. Next they took the soup-plates, the dinner-plates, the large platter and two vegetable dishes out into the kitchen to be made hot; they also carried out the bread-plate, the salad-bowl, and the pudding-dish, as well as the after-dinner coffee-cups and saucers. Then they arranged the plates for salad on the sideboard, and the dessert-plates, putting a dessert-spoon and fork for each person on these. While the dinner was getting ready came the lesson in waiting, as before. "You see we have laid down cold plates," the aunt said. "Some people lay down hot ones, as we did at luncheon, but the soup is so likely to soil them that it is really hardly safe. Besides, dinner is a more formal meal than the others, so we must be more particular. When Bridget brings in the tureen she will stand it on the sideboard with the hot soup-plates, and you are to dip a spoonful of soup carefully in each plate and carry it on your tray to each person's right and set it down,--do not offer it on the left. When all are served, carry out the tureen. If we had no waitress of course your mother would serve the soup from the table, but this is the way we do when we are nicely waited on. "When it is time to carry off the soup-plates, take your tray and go to each person's right and lift the plate, putting the first one on the tray and taking the next in your hand. Put them on the sideboard, and carry them out later, very quietly, but do not stop now. Leave the cold plate on the table still. Then bring in the hot plates and put them in a pile in front of the carver, slipping out his cold plate first. Bring in the vegetables and put them on the sideboard; last of all bring in the meat and set it before the carver; do not leave the room after the meat is on the table, for it will get cold. "As each plate is filled, take it to the first person served--your mother, if you are a family party, and either your mother or a woman guest first, if you have company; some people always have the mother served first even if guests are present, and others prefer the other way; but always serve the ladies first, whether guests are there or not. Slip out the cold plate and lay down the hot one at the right, as you have before, and put the cold plates neatly in a pile on the sideboard. Pass the vegetables next, offering them at the left, and then the bread in the same way. While this course is eaten, carry out the soup-plates, if they are still on the sideboard, and fill the glasses. "When all have finished take off the roast first and carry it out; then take off the soiled plates and lay down the salad-plates at the right, as you have done each time, and pass the salad to the left. Take off these when they are used, with the bread and butter plates, bread and jelly, and crumb the table, using the knife and tray. Then lay down before each one a dessert-plate with either a fork or a dessert-spoon on it, or both, if the dish to come needs them; nowadays this is done even where the dessert is served at one end of the table. If you can, pass the pudding, or whatever the sweet is, so that each one can serve himself, offering it at the left, of course. If it is very soft, or is something difficult for one to manage in this way, then have the dish put at one end of the table before your mother. She will put a portion on the plate before her, removing the spoon as she does so and laying it at one side, and you can set the plate down before the one you serve first, exchanging the two plates; this person will also remove his spoon and lay it down as the plate is slipped away. Stand on the right to do this; then take the second plate for your mother to fill, and so on. "It is a good plan to have one extra plate ready, and when you take the first plate lay this down before your mother, and when you come back with the second one this will be filled waiting, and you can exchange the two, and so save time. There will be one over at the end, of course, and this you can lay on the sideboard. "When you have company, the coffee is served in the drawing-room, and you must bring it in on a tray. But when you are alone, and wish to have it on the table, take off the pudding-dish, when all have finished, and then all the plates, and bring in the coffee-cups filled on the tray, and set one down before each, from his right. If you use finger-bowls after dinner, lay these down, too, a little above each place. "This is a long lesson, and a difficult one for a little girl, and you must not be discouraged if it takes you quite a while to learn it well. Keep on trying, and soon you will be a perfect waitress. Just remember these things, anyway, and everybody will forgive you if you forget some others: "Be sure your hands are clean, your hair very tidy, and your apron white and starched. Wear silent shoes, and do not clatter the dishes; do not speak to any one, unless you do not understand what to do next, then quietly whisper to your mother. Do not offer anybody a cup of tea or coffee, or a plate of soup, or even a plate with food on it; set these all down at the right. Offer platters, vegetable dishes, bread, and such things always at the left. Change all plates at the right. While a course is being eaten, softly carry out any soiled dishes from the sideboard and fill the glasses. Watch to see what is needed, and offer it. Do not offer any one what is already on his plate; that is, if you are passing a dish all around and see that he has some of it left, skip him and go on to the next. Now I hear Bridget coming in with the soup-tureen; run and put on your very best apron and announce dinner as though you were the finest waitress in the land!" CHAPTER IV WASHING DISHES It was Margaret's grandmother who gave her the lesson on dish-washing. She said it was the part of housekeeping she really liked the best of all and did most easily, so everybody said, "Oh, well, if you really _like_ it, perhaps you had better be the one to show Margaret how to do it properly!" and then they all laughed. The gingham apron with sleeves was the one Margaret put on after breakfast. It buttoned around her wrists snugly, but on unfastening the buttons the sleeves could be rolled up and pinned out of the way, so they would keep clean. After she was ready the grandmother showed her how to stand all the dining-room chairs back against the wall and take up the crumbs under the table, pushing this to one side and then the other, so that the rug would really be clean when they were done. "Now," she said, "run into the kitchen and see that the table there is quite empty, so there will be plenty of room for the dishes we are going to bring out; bring back with you the large tray, and get out the scraping-knife." Margaret found that Bridget had left some pans and dishes on the table after she had cooked the breakfast, and these she piled neatly at one end, out of the way. The scraping-knife was a long one with a thin blade which bent easily; a palette knife, such as artists use in cleaning their paints up, her grandmother explained. "It seems funny to use an artist's knife to scrape dishes with," said Margaret, when she came back. "I should think we would just scrape the plates with the silver knives on them. That's the way Bridget does." "But it is bad for the knives," her grandmother said. "Besides, a stiff knife cannot get the grease off, and this thin one can. You will see presently how beautifully it works. Now we must carry out the food." The dishes of meat, potatoes, bread, and other things were taken to the kitchen table and emptied; the bread was put back into its box; the bits of meat and vegetable were put on small dishes and put in the refrigerator; the butter on the small plates was scraped together into a little bowl and set aside to cook with. Then they were ready to get the dishes together on the dining-room table. They carefully emptied the tumblers and coffee-cups into the tray-bowl, so they would not be spilled in carrying them out. They piled the silver carefully on a dish, and carried out the plates and other things on the table. When it was quite cleared, Margaret took up the crumbs and laid the cloth and pad in the sideboard drawer. A centrepiece was put on the bare table with the fern-dish on it, and the two armchairs were pushed back in their places, one at each end. "There," said the grandmother, "when you have dusted the room will be right to leave until luncheon. Once or twice a week, of course, it has to be thoroughly swept and put to rights, but this is the way we do every day." In the kitchen they scraped the plates very carefully, putting all the scraps into a bowl to empty into the garbage pail. They piled them nicely, putting all the same kind of plates into one pile, not mixing two sizes or sorts. The cups were put together, and the saucers piled also. The tray was set ready on one end of the table, and Margaret got out her new, clean dish-towels, soft ones for glass and silver, and firmer ones for the rest of the things. Then she put out the two dish-pans, and turned on the water. It ran very hot from the first, so it was all right, but Margaret was told she must always try it before she sat down to a meal, and if it was only warm she must put on a kettleful to heat, so it would be ready when needed, because it was impossible to wash dishes well in any sort of water but the very hottest. They only filled one dish-pan to begin with, and after it was half-full Margaret put in the soap-shaker and stirred it around till the water was foamy. She hung it up again, and began to put in the tumblers. "You must be careful that those are not icy," her grandmother cautioned. "Even after they have been emptied they must stand till they are fairly warm, or they will crack as soon as they touch the hot water. But you must be most careful of all about cut glass; that really needs a special lesson. If you have a piece there, set it to one side, and when the rest of the glass is done and the silver, we will take that." There was a fruit-dish which had been used for breakfast, so it was put on a corner of the table where it could not be knocked off, to wait its turn. The tumblers and finger-bowls were put into the hot soapy water at once and turned about in it till they were clean. Then they were wiped while they were still a little soapy, without rinsing them, because in that way they were polished like diamonds. After they were lifted out and put on the tray the silver went into the pan and was well scrubbed with the mop, and then rinsed with very hot water, which proved to be too much for Margaret's hands; when she tried to lift out the forks and spoons she could hardly touch them. "Ouch!" she exclaimed. "It burns me. I must put in some cold water." "No, indeed!" said her grandmother, "that would spoil everything. Just slip a large spoon under all the silver, and lift it out at once. There is a saying that no water is hot enough to wash silver in unless it is too hot to put your hands in. Just see how fast the heat in it dries it as it lies on the tray! And see how it polishes, too, as I wipe it! If it were cold it might be greasy, and certainly it would not look half as well when it was done. Now before we take the china I will tell you about washing cut glass. You can put some fresh water in the dish-pan, but make it only as warm as your hand." While she was getting it ready the grandmother got a soft brush and a cake of nice white soap, and, after trying the water to see that it was not too warm or too cold, she mixed the soap in thoroughly. The beautiful glass bowl was lifted carefully into the pan and scrubbed with the little brush till every crack was cleaned and it was brilliant with the suds. Margaret was not allowed to lift it out on the tray for fear she should let it slip, but she watched how her grandmother handled it. "If I had done as some careless maids do," her grandmother began, as she wiped, "I might have put this bowl right into the very hot water the tumblers can bear, and cracked it at once. Cut glass cannot bear either hot or cold water. I once had a beautiful bowl broken in two because it was held directly under the faucet in the sink while the hot water ran into it, and another dish was broken by having a piece of ice put in it on the table. Iced lemonade often breaks lovely and costly pitchers. You must always wash each piece by itself in lukewarm water, and never put it in the pan with other things. Make a suds with good white soap, scrub the cracks well with a soft brush which will not scratch, and wipe dry without rinsing, and you will have beautiful, brilliant glass, and your care will make it last a lifetime. I will set this away in the dining-room while you draw some hotter water with soap in it for the china. Put in the cleanest things first, and only a few at a time, so they will not be chipped." "Why do I take the cleanest china first?" Margaret inquired, as she put in the fruit-plates. "Why don't I take them as they happen to come on the table!" "Some plates are greasy and some are not, and the greasy ones would spoil your dish-water," her grandmother explained. "Now rinse those, and while I wipe them, wash the rest and then change your water." When Margaret lifted out the plates, she turned them up edgewise and let the water run back into the rinsing-pan, so that they were already half-dry when she laid them on the tray. But her grandmother got a fresh towel for them, because the first one had become damp, and the dishes would not dry easily with it. Margaret decided that the easiest way to empty the dish-pan before putting in more hot water would be to tip it up, so she took it by the handles and turned the water directly into the sink. Her grandmother stopped her. "Use the sink-basket," she said. "See, the wire one in the corner. Pour the water through that, and then if any bits of food are in it they will stop there and not get into the drain; it's a great convenience, and one we never had when I was a little girl. So with the dish-mop; that goes into hot water where the hands do not like to go, and into cups and dishes where it would be much more trouble to take a cloth, as we used to do. Nowadays we do not use dish-cloths very often, because doctors tell us that they are not as cleanly as they might be, and may bring us typhoid fever and other things. A mop can be scalded in very hot water after it has been well washed in soap suds, and then shaken out perfectly clean to dry quickly, so that it is better to use. On the iron and tin things we use a wire dish-washer, which is also very clean, indeed, and these make us feel safe." When the glass, silver, and china was done, Margaret took them on her tray and carried them into the dining-room and put them all away. When she came back, she looked at the pile of pots and pans on the table, and groaned. "Now," she said, "comes the worst of all!" "These are no trouble," laughed her grandmother, "though there are a great many more of them than there ought to be. If Bridget only washed, wiped, and put away every dish as soon as she had finished using it, there might not be one to wash now. As it is, scald out the dish-mop, and put it away, and get the wire dish-washer, and a little household ammonia and sapolio, and some more very hot water in the dish-pan, and we will do these in a minute." Then she showed Margaret how to wash out her rinsing-pan well, and wipe it dry before hanging it on its nail. The other pan was half-filled with very hot water, and a teaspoonful of ammonia put in. "The cleanest dishes first," Margaret was told, so in went the baking-tins, after they were well scraped, and the wire-washer soon scrubbed them clean, and grandmother dried them with a strong towel, and put them on a corner of the stove for a moment to get rid of any dampness before they were put away. The scorched marks on the white enamelled saucepans had to be rubbed well with sapolio, and a nice dish-cloth was found hanging up over the sink for the purpose. The coffee-pot had a special bath all alone, and was scrubbed out carefully inside as well as out, and every single ground was picked out of the spout and corners, and it was wiped and dried very carefully, because otherwise it would never make good coffee. The frying-pan had to have a little ammonia to cut the grease, and as the outside seemed to be rough, as though it needed attention, too, this was well scrubbed with the wire washer till it was just as nice as the inside. After it was wiped, it, too, was dried off on the stove, lest any dampness might rust it. This finished the dishes, and Margaret washed out the dish-pan and scalded it, and then wiped and hung it up, as she had the rinsing-pan. The sink was swept up with a little wire broom, and the bits gathered on a small iron shovel. These they put first into the wire sink-basket, and then turned out into the bowl of garbage; they scalded the shovel and broom, and the basket--turned upside down in the sink--till they were all clean. A bit of washing-soda was laid over the drain-pipe, and a quantity of very hot water was poured into the sink to flush it. The soda melted away, and as it went down the pipe it took all the grease with it which the water had left on the sides and in the corners of the pipe. A special cloth was always kept hanging up over the sink for the tables. This Margaret wrung out, and used in wiping off all the dish-water which lay there; she also wiped up the wood of the sink. Then the kitchen broom was brought out and the floor nicely swept, especially under the tables and in the corners. The damp dish-towels were scalded and hung out in the sunshine; the chairs were set straight, the window-sills wiped off and some flat-irons put away which had been left on the stove. "There," said the grandmother, as they stood looking at the tidy kitchen, "that's all there is to do, and I call it pleasant work. I like to make things clean and sweet, and I never could see why so many women hate to wash dishes." "Why, grandmother," said Margaret, "I think it's just fun!" CHAPTER V THE CARE OF THE BEDROOMS When it was the turn of the Pretty Aunt to give her lesson in housekeeping, she said she should begin at daybreak, so Margaret was not surprised to hear her knock at the door early in the morning, almost before she was dressed. She helped the little girl take the clothes off the bed, one at a time, and put them on two chairs near the windows, being careful not to let the blankets get on the floor. She beat the pillows well, and turned the mattress up over the foot of the bed so the air could get underneath it. The white spread she kept by itself, and had Margaret help fold it up in its creases. "Nothing wrinkles more easily," she told Margaret, "and a wrinkled spread spoils the look of neatness a bed ought to have when it is made. If you have a heavy Marseilles spread, do not sleep under it; fold it at night and put it away, and use only the blankets, because it is not good for any one to sleep under such a weight. Now hang up your night-dress, and put away your slippers and bath-wrapper. I am delighted to see that you have no dress or petticoats lying around this morning from last night. Too many girls do not hang them up at once when they take them off, but leave them over a chair, and put them away in the morning, perhaps creased with lying. It is much better to put them away as you take them off. Open your windows, next, top and bottom, and set the closet door open, too, and then we will go to breakfast." "Why do I open the closet door?" asked Margaret, laughing at the idea. "Because your closet needs airing just as much as your room does; more, indeed, because its door has been shut all night, while the fresh air has been blowing into the room through the open windows. If you did not air it every day, it would soon have a close, shut-up odor, and perhaps your dresses would have it, too, which would certainly not be nice at all. It has to have fresh air to keep it sweet. Now we will shut the door of your room as we go, for the cold wind would chill the halls, and besides, the sight of a disordered bedroom is not attractive." After breakfast Margaret went up-stairs and shut the windows of her room, and a little later, when it was warm, she and her aunt put on fresh white aprons and went in and began to put it to rights. One stood on each side of the bed and turned the mattress from head to foot; the next day, Margaret was told, it must be turned from side to side as well as over, to keep it always in good shape. If this was not done constantly there would soon be a hollow place in the middle, which would never come out, and the mattress would be spoiled. They laid over it the nice white pad which kept it looking always new and clean, and then the lower sheet, the wide hem at the top and the narrow one at the bottom, the seams toward the mattress, and tucked it smoothly in at the sides. "Some people are careless about these little things," said the aunt as they worked. "They think it does not matter if there is a hollow in the mattress, or whether they have a cover for it or not. They mix the top and bottom sheets, and never know which is which; but you are going to do things the right way, which is always the easiest in the end." They laid the upper sheet on with the wide hem at the top, as before, but with the seam up instead of down. Margaret wondered at this, but was told that this way made the two smooth sides of the sheets come next to the one who slept between them, and at the same time made the upper sheet turn over at the top with the seam underneath. When the blankets went on, the Pretty Aunt said she was thankful to notice that Margaret's mother always cut hers in two. "What for?" asked the little girl. "Well," was the reply, "double blankets are difficult to handle. They are really one long blanket folded together, and one-half sometimes slips and gets wrinkled, and is hard to get into place. Then, half-blankets are more easily aired than whole ones, and more easily washed, also. And if one is too warm in the night, and wishes to throw off half of the clothes, it can be done without pulling the bed to pieces. It is simple enough to cut a pair in two and bind the edges with ribbon so the colors will match, and it well pays for the small trouble." "I sometimes wish I had a nice, fat comfortable instead of two blankets," said Margaret. "I know a girl who has such a hot one, all made of cotton and cheesecloth." "They are not nearly as healthful as blankets, my dear, nor so easily kept clean. People who own them would hate to have to tell how seldom they are washed, because they are so heavy to handle that it is put off month after month, and season after season. A pretty little silkolene coverlet to lay on the foot of the bed, such as you have, or a small eiderdown puff, is very nice, but blankets are the things to sleep under. Now let us put the white spread on." "But, auntie," objected Margaret, "you haven't tucked anything in! Just see, not the sides nor the bottom! I don't like to have my feet out all night; I like to be tucked in all nice and warm. Shan't we tuck in everything as we go along? That's the way Bridget does when she makes my bed." Her aunt laughed. "Just wait!" she said. Then she put on the white spread, and smoothed it nicely all over, and told Margaret to stand opposite to her at the side of the bed near the foot, and do as she did. First she turned the spread back, just as though it was at the top instead of the bottom; then she turned back one blanket; then the other; then the upper sheet, and next the lower one, leaving the mattress and pad showing. They raised the mattress, and putting their hands under all the folded back clothes at once, they put them under the end of it smoothly, pushing them well back; then they tucked in the sides. "There," said the aunt, nodding her pretty head at her little niece, "I'd like to see you pull those clothes out at night, as you do when Bridget makes your bed! If you tuck things in one by one sometimes they will come out, but if you tuck them in as we have done they are sure to stay. Now for the top." She turned over the spread, blankets, and sheet, and laid them flat on the spread, and then turned them under themselves, making a smooth, rather narrow fold, close up to the place the pillows were going to stand. "If the sheet was mussed I would not do this," she explained. "Then I would just lay all the clothes back under the pillows; but when the sheet is fresh it looks nice this way. Beat up the pillows, smooth them out, and stand them up evenly. Remember, if you have a white spread with a fringe on it and a muslin valance around the bed, the spread is not tucked in at all, but after the bed is finished and tucked in all around, it is laid on and left hanging over sides and foot. "If, instead of a spread, you have a figured cover, or one made of lace or muslin, you do not use any spread, but put that on over the blankets during the day and take it off at night. A roll covered with the same stuff is used with such a bed cover, and at night this, too, is put away and the pillows brought out from the cupboard and put on when the bed is opened. The bed in the guest-room is like that; you know it has a pretty cover and a roll. But whatever you have, it is always nice to have the bed opened for one at night, the clothes folded smoothly back, the spread laid away and the pillows put down flat, so all one has to do is to slip in." "I know," Margaret replied. "It makes you feel sleepy to see a bed like that." "Now let us take the wash-stand," her aunt went on, after she had passed her hands all over the bed as though she were ironing it, leaving it as smooth as a nice white table. "Get the cloths from the bathroom, a clean white one, you know, and a clean colored one; and the soap." She showed Margaret how to wash everything out neatly, beginning with the tooth-brush mug and soap-dish, and she was told to look carefully and see if they were both clean in the bottom, "because probably they are not," she said. The wash-bowl was washed with soap, especially where there was a greasy streak around it, and the pitcher was filled, and wiped where the water dripped down the front. The dark cloth was used on the rest of the china; it was better to have two cloths of different colors, her aunt explained, to avoid mixing them. After the stand was finished, and the top wiped off with the white cloth, the cloths were both washed out in the bathroom and put away, with the soap. The towels were folded in the creases they had been ironed in, and pulled into shape and rehung; the wash-cloth was wrung dry and shaken out before it was hung up on the rack. The cake of soap had been washed off in the bowl when that was washed, and it was now put back in the clean dish. "Whatever you forget, Margaret, never forget to wash off the soap!" her aunt warned her. There seemed a good deal to do to make the room nice even after the bed and wash-stand were done, for the closet was opened and everything taken out and put on chairs around the room, and then put back. The dresses had to be hung up by the loops on the skirt, and the waists which matched hung each on the same hook with its own skirt by the loops at the sleeves. The petticoats had to go by themselves in a separate part of the closet, and the shoes were all put in pairs in the bag on the door, instead of being left on the floor in piles. Margaret did not like to do these things, but she had to admit that she could dress faster in the morning when she knew just where everything was, and when she could find mates to her shoes in just half a second, instead of having to take a minute or more to hunt them in the corners of the closet on the floor. Arranging the bureau was still worse than making the closet tidy. All the drawers were emptied out, and everything sorted in heaps and put away. Some pretty boxes without covers were brought from her aunt's bureau and put in Margaret's upper drawer, one for gloves, one for handkerchiefs, one for ribbons, so that everything should be where it belonged, yet as soon as the drawer was opened one could see where everything was. Underclothes were made into neat piles, and arranged in the drawers below, one sort of thing in one pile and another in another, and the stockings laid in a nice row, mates together, folded and tucked in, ready to go on. The top of the bureau had many pretty silver ornaments, but they were dull and shabby, and Margaret had to get the silver polish and a bit of chamois and make them shine before they could go on the fresh bureau-cover the aunt put on, and she was given a bit of velvety stuff to tuck in a corner of a drawer, ready to use every day or two, so they would not grow dull again. When all else was done they brushed up the floor, dusted everything thoroughly, straightened the pictures on the wall and the window-shades, and set the chairs where they would look best. Then Margaret sat down to rest, and her aunt finished the lesson in this way: "A lady," she began, "no matter whether she is grown up or not, always keeps her bedroom in beautiful order, fresh and dainty, especially the places which do not show, like bureau drawers! Her closet has plenty of hooks, and her gowns are kept together, each on one. Her hats are in their boxes on the shelves, her shoes in their bag. Her bureau is orderly, the silver clean and shining. Her hair-brush is washed at least once a week, to keep it white and fresh, and the comb is never allowed to have bits of hair in it, but is as clean as the brush. Her wash-stand is always perfectly clean and tidy, and nothing is ever left about in the room. Most important of all, the air of her room is always fresh and sweet, because the window is left open at night and often opened during the day for a time. Now this has been a good long lesson to-day--it's almost noon; but if you have learned it, you have not wasted a minute of even this nice bright Saturday. There's a prize offered by this teacher for perfect lessons. Keep your room in order for a month, and see what you'll find on your bureau then!" "Oh, what?" cried Margaret, running after her Pretty Aunt as she went out into the hall. "Wait and see!" was all she would say, but Margaret decided to keep the room beautifully tidy for the prize, just the same. CHAPTER VI SWEEPING AND DUSTING Margaret could hardly wait for the time for her sweeping lesson, because she wanted so much to wear her sweeping-cap. When she heard her mother say one Saturday morning that the lesson that day would be on the care of the parlors and hall, she asked to be excused from the breakfast-table, and ran up and put on her long-sleeved apron and the pretty little cap with the red bow in front, and came down proud and smiling. The halls and stairs were of hardwood, so Margaret selected from the broom-closet the long-handled floor-brush, the large dust-pan and the small one, a flat wicker beater for the rugs, the bottle of floor oil, and the flannel cloth which was with it, a certain small dish kept especially for the oil, and some of her new dust-cloths. She tried to remember all the things her mother had told her to get, but, after all, she forgot the broom, and had to go back twice for it, the second time because she brought the wrong one. The very best broom, used only on the freshest carpets, had a red tape tied around the handle, so it would not get mixed with the one used in the dining-room, or the rest of the house. Bridget helped carry out the rugs and put them over the clothes-line, and Margaret gently struck them with the wicker beater till all the dust was out. She knew she would injure them if she pounded as hard as she wanted to, so she was very careful to hit them softly, but to do it so often that they were clean when she was done. She laid them on the back porch, and brushed them with the whisk-broom afterward until they were like new; then they were folded and left in a corner of the dining-room, ready to go down when the halls were done. Her mother told her to go to the very top of the house and shut the doors of the rooms all the way down that no dust could get in. Then they moved the table and chair and umbrella jar out of the hall, and carried the coats and hats to the closet, and shut them up. The upper hall was very dark with all the doors closed which usually lighted it, so the gas was lit, that the corners might be easily seen. Beginning at the top of the house Margaret swept down the halls and stairs all the way, using her long-handled brush and taking a little whisk-broom, which was also soft for the corners and the stairs, putting the dust into the pan as she went along, especially on the stairs. Her mother wanted her to let Bridget wipe off the wood with oil, but Margaret begged to be allowed to do at least one floor and the lower stairs, so she would know just how to do it in her very own house, when she had one! She put on a large, strong pair of gloves, put a little oil in the dish from the bottle, dipped in her flannel cloth, and was going to begin when her mother stopped her. "Wring out the cloth," she said; "you are not going to wash the floor, only to wipe it." Then she went away until this part of the work was done, so she might not step on the wood while it was wet, and perhaps spoil the whole floor. The work was not very pleasant, perhaps, and the oil did not smell very nice, but it was interesting to do something new, and Margaret did not mind it at all. She wiped up one floor and one flight of stairs, and then wiped also the baseboard around the floor and the balustrades of the stairs, and when she was done it all looked so fresh and nice she wished she had done all the halls. However, she put away the oil and cloth and floor-brush, and, setting the front door open to let the air come in and dry the wood and carry away the odor of the oil, she dusted the rest of the halls with her ordinary dust-cloth, wiping the tops of the pictures well, and the hall table and chair, which Bridget helped her put back. They brought in the step-ladder, too, so that Margaret could get to the chandelier and the top of the doors, and wipe these off thoroughly. The vestibule had been swept and dusted early in the morning, and there was nothing to do outside, but the glass in the front door looked dingy, and Margaret wiped it off with a clean, damp cloth and polished it with the chamois duster and shook out the lace which hung over it, and dusted the edges of the glass and the wood of the door. Then she ran and got the rugs and spread them down, and called her mother to come and see how beautiful the halls looked. "Beautiful! I should think so, indeed!" her mother exclaimed. "I could not have done the work better myself. What made you think of the glass in the door? I forgot to tell you about that." "Oh," said Margaret, "I pretended I was a new maid, and that you were showing me all about the work, and first I said to myself, 'Next, Mary Jane, the front door,' and then I was Mary Jane, and did the front door, you see!" Her mother smiled. "Well, certainly, Mary Jane does her work thoroughly," she said. "I am sure I shall keep her. Now if you are not tired we will do the parlors." These two rooms took all the rest of the Saturday morning lesson. The window-curtains and portières were pinned up and put into bags, long, loose ones, which kept them off the floor and out of the dust, but did not muss them. They dusted the piano and large sofa and covered them with strong sheets. They wiped off the book-shelves, and tucked newspapers in and out until all the books were entirely covered and protected. They brushed off the cushions of the chairs with a whisk-broom as they had the sofa, and wiped their woodwork, and then carried them into the dining-room; the sofa-pillows were shaken and beaten and put there also. All the ornaments on the tables and mantels, and the lamps, were wiped and put on the dining-room table. When the rooms were as empty as possible they shut the doors and sprinkled bran on the carpets just as though they were sewing garden seeds, which Margaret thought was great fun. "Some people use tea-leaves on their carpets," her mother explained, "and as they are damp they do take up the dust nicely; but they will stain delicate colors so, I think it is safer to use bran, which also takes up dust but never hurts any carpet. Now I will show you how to sweep." Beginning at one side of the room near the wall, she made long, even strokes with the broom, not bearing on too hard, and sweeping toward the centre all the time. "Don't give little jerky dabs at the carpet," she cautioned, "for that is bad for it, and don't sweep from one side to the other, but always toward the middle. But we forgot to open the window." Margaret pushed up the one nearest to her and instantly in rushed the wind, scattering bran and dust all over the floor. Her mother hurried to shut it. "You must find out from which way the wind comes before you open the window," she said. "That one did more harm than good. Try the other one." When this was open they could not feel any breeze at all, and it seemed as though it was not worth opening, but the mother said it was exactly right, for it made a draught, and carried all the dust gently outdoors. After a time Margaret took the broom and finished the floor, and when the dust lay in a little pile in the middle, her mother held the pan for her and she swept it all up, except a little which refused to come on; this they brushed up with the whisk-broom; they also brushed out all the corners of the room with the whisk and pan, because the broom was so large that it would not go in easily, and a little bit of dust had been left in each one. The carpets looked nice and fresh when they had finished. "Once in awhile," the mother said, "it is a good plan to have Bridget wipe off the carpets quickly with warm water in which a little ammonia has been put. She squeezes out a cloth almost dry and works quickly, not to wet the carpet too much, and the ammonia brings out the colors and makes the whole look like new. Some housekeepers like to put a couple of tablespoonfuls of turpentine in the water instead of the ammonia, and this is just as good for the carpet, and if there is any fear of moths being in it, it is even better. Every two or three months a carpet ought to be wiped off in one way or the other to keep it nice. Now while we wait for the dust to settle we will make the marble mantel clean. You can get a basin of water, the sapolio, a flannel cloth, and a white cotton one." They wet the cake of soap a little and rubbed the flannel on it and scrubbed the mantel thoroughly, and then the hearth, rinsing them off and wiping them dry afterward. They also wiped off the fireplace, using a dry cloth here, too, for fear of rust, and then took a damp one to wipe off the baseboard. If there had been a wood floor, that would have had to be treated just as the halls had been--brushed up with the soft brush, and wiped off with floor oil. And, her mother explained, if the halls had been carpeted Margaret would have had to sweep them with the broom and use the whisk in the corners and on all the stairs, one at a time, carefully. By this time there seemed to be no dust left in the air, so they wiped the pictures off with a clean duster, especially on the top where Bridget's duster sometimes failed to go. The sheets were taken off the sofa and piano next, and they were lightly dusted again, "just to make sure," Margaret said. The piano keys proved to be very sticky, and in some spots there were dark marks, as though a little girl had practised with unwashed fingers,--though, of course, no little girl would really do such a thing, the mother said. So Margaret got a little bottle of alcohol and a flannel cloth and sponged off each key. If she had used water on the ivory it would have made it yellow, but the alcohol did not injure it at all. The chairs were brought in after this, and the other things they had carried out, and all arranged again. Some of the bric-à-brac was not clean in spite of its dusting, and this had to be carefully washed in warm water and wiped dry before it was put in place. "Anything but soiled ornaments," her mother told the little girl. The curtains and portières were taken out of their bags and smoothed, and the bags and sheets folded and put away till the next sweeping day. The parlors looked beautifully fresh and orderly, but something seemed missing. "Why, the palm!" Margaret said at length. "Bridget took it out this morning for its bath and did not bring it back." They found there had been no time for the bath yet, so Margaret and her mother said they would attend to it. They wet the earth well, and while the water drained off into a large pan they washed the leaves, using a soft cloth dipped in a basin which held a cup of water and a cup of milk. "I did not know plants liked milk," said Margaret, as she helped sponge the large leaves all over, the back as well as the front sides. "Palms love it," her mother replied, "and it pays to use it on them, for it keeps them green and glossy; you will see how pretty this looks when we have finished it." Sure enough, when they were done the palm looked as though the leaves had just opened, and they agreed that it should have a drink of milk and water every week. Then they put it back in its pot in the window of the parlor, and the room was all done. The last thing of all was the lesson the mother repeated for Margaret to remember for all kinds of sweeping and dusting. It was like this: "First get rid of all the ornaments and furniture in a room; in a bedroom you can put the things from the bureau and mantel on the bed, provided you dust them all well first. The chairs can go into the hall, and over the bureau, table, sofa, and bed, you must put sheets and towels, or even newspapers; never sweep till everything is well covered, or you will have to do double work when you come to dust. Pin up the curtains, and put bran on the carpet, and get somebody to help you push the heavy furniture about so you can sweep under it; there are some people who do not move these things for months, because it is too much trouble, but nice housekeepers always move them every single time they sweep. Use the whisk-broom in all the corners; wipe off the baseboards; dust the pictures thoroughly, and shake out the curtains, and when the room is rearranged, dust all the little things and your rooms will always look as though they had been housecleaned." "My windows really and truly need washing," said Margaret. "When I sweep my room next week I shall wash them all myself." "Then you had better learn how now," her mother said. "That will be a good ending for the lesson. To wash windows you need a basin of warm water, a little ammonia, and two clean cloths. Wring out your first cloth in the ammonia-water until it is nearly dry, and rub the glass over and over from one side to the other, and around and around. Wipe dry each pane as you finish it, so it will not be streaked, and when all are done, polish them off with a handful of tissue-paper or a chamois. When you wash plate glass, such as we have in the parlors, do not use ammonia, but instead put a few drops of blueing in the water, and when they are wiped dry go over the glass again with a cloth wrung out in alcohol. Do mirrors in this way if they are very dim; if they are new but dusty, do not use any water, only the alcohol, and polish them with the chamois. Would you like to try one window or one mirror still, this morning?" Margaret said she thought she would rather wait a week, and as it proved to be luncheon time she hurried to put all the things away which they had been using, and get herself ready. CHAPTER VII THE BATHROOM; BRASSES, GRATES, OILCLOTHS, AND VESTIBULE When the Saturday morning came on which Margaret was to learn how to take care of the bathroom, and clean grates, and do other such things, she groaned out loud. So far her lessons had been delightful, but this one sounded as though it would be work instead of fun. However, she put on her long-sleeved apron and out of the little bathroom cupboard she took the flannel cloth, the cotton cloth, the sapolio, the metal polish, a queer little brush of twigs with a long handle and a bottle of disinfectant, all of which stood ready there in a neat row. Then her Other Aunt came into the room, with a big apron on just like Margaret's, and began: "The bathtub, luckily for us," she said, "is of white enamel, so it is easy to keep clean. But see, all around it there is a streak where the top of the water came after somebody's bath this morning. Now, of course, every single person who uses a bathtub ought to wipe it out afterward; but men don't take the trouble, and women sometimes forget; little girls never do, of course! So the tub has to be washed and wiped out every morning." "Every single morning?" Margaret asked, grumblingly. "It seems as if that would be too often; it must wear the nice enamel off to wash it so much." "Not at all," said her aunt; "it is good for it! Get the nice white cloth and a cake of soap,--not the sapolio, because that would scratch it,--and roll up your sleeves. Kneel down by the tub, put in the stopper, and draw a little warm water; wring out your cloth in it, rub it well on the soap, and scrub off the greasy mark first, and afterward wash the tub all over; rinse out your cloth, let out the water, and wash the tub again and wipe it dry. Sometimes, perhaps twice a week, put a little ammonia in the first water so that the tub will have an extra cleaning. If ever you have a really dirty tub to scrub, take gasoline on a flannel cloth and wash with that, and it will be like new; but tubs which are washed out every day never need gasoline. "If you have a tub lined with zinc remember that needs even more care than a white one, if it is to be kept shining bright. You can scrub it out with gasoline if it seems greasy, then with vinegar, if it is dark, then with metal polish, and so on; zinc tubs are really difficult to care for. A better way is to paint it all over with two coats of white paint and when it is dry enamel it. It costs only a dollar to do it, and it does save so much work; besides, a white tub always looks best of all. Now we will do the wash-stand." They took off the soap-dish and tooth-brush mug and bottles of tooth powder, because, as the aunt explained, one must always wipe under things, not around them. The marble slab and bowl were scrubbed and dried, and the mugs and soap-dish washed, wiped, and replaced. After this they cleaned the closet by pulling the handle and letting the water run while they put in the long-handled brush of twigs and brushed out every inch of china, even down into the pipe as far as possible. Margaret was told that when she used ammonia in the tub she must put some in the closet, too, and once or twice a week a little disinfectant must be poured down to keep the pipe perfectly clean. The woodwork was wiped off with a cloth kept for that purpose, and then they turned to the polishing of the faucets and pipes. This was hard, but as Margaret and her aunt both worked it made it easier. They put some polishing paste on a flannel and rubbed and rubbed till they could see the metal shining through the paste; then they wiped it off with a dry cloth. "If this was all rubbed a little every single day," said the aunt, "it would never be such hard work. I should say that this nickel had been just a little bit neglected lately, but see how bright we have made it! Now for the oilcloth on the floor." They set the hamper and a chair out into the hall, and Margaret went to the kitchen for a basin of milk with a little warm water in it. Out of the cupboard she brought the Japanese seat she had learned she must always use when she got down on the floor, partly to save her dress, and partly because there was a painful disease called sometimes "housemaid's knee," which one could get by kneeling and working on a hard floor with nothing underneath one. When she was all ready her aunt wrung out the cloth for her in the milk, and told her to begin at one edge and work straight across the floor, wiping every part well, but especially under the tub and wash-stand, because those were likely to need it most. "The milk will freshen the oilcloth and make it shine," she said. "Always try and have some when you wipe up an oilcloth, for water alone is not good for it." When the floor was dry they set in the hamper again, folded the towels neatly, and hung them straight on the rack, and dusted around the window and the wood around the sides of the room. "We are done here," the aunt said, as they put away all the things they had been using, "but the lesson isn't over yet, for while we are in the scrubbing business you may as well learn how to take care of steps and vestibule. You may get the old broom from the kitchen Bridget keeps for this, and ask her to bring a pail of water; you will need the scrubbing-brush, too, and the sapolio, and two cloths; the Japanese seat, some more metal polish, a flannel, and a duster." Margaret got them all, and brought them out to the vestibule. The door-mat was taken up, shaken well, and hung over the balustrade outside, and, after sweeping out the vestibule, Margaret knelt on the seat and scrubbed the marble floor, especially in the corners, and then wiped them dry. The steps had already been swept once that morning, so all they needed was a good bath. A little water at a time was poured over them and swept off with the broom, and while they dried in the sunshine, she rubbed the door handles and bell with polish, and gave them a beautiful finish with chamois leather. The woodwork of the doors was pretty dusty, and before it could be made to look just right it had to be rubbed off with a damp duster and a little stick used in the cracks of the wood. When the rug was laid down once more Margaret and her Other Aunt stood and admired their work. "A good housekeeper always has nice, clean steps and a well-cared-for vestibule," said the aunt. "They are like a sign-board on the front of a house, telling the sort of people who live inside. That thought ought to make you keep your vestibule in nice order." "Yes, indeed," said Margaret. "I'd be ashamed to have a sign-board in front of my steps, saying, 'An untidy girl lives here!' Now what do we do?" "Well, let us see if we can find any brass to polish. There are the andirons in the hall, for instance, and the shovel and tongs." So out came the metal polish once more, and, after putting down a newspaper, they rubbed them all well. They found out, however, that some of the brass about the house had an enamel finish over it to keep out the air, and all this needed was wiping off with a cloth instead of rubbing, which was a great saving of time; though this brass was not quite as nice looking as that which they rubbed till it shone like a mirror, in the old-fashioned way. It happened that the chandelier in the hall was covered with the enamel, and here her aunt told Margaret she did not dislike it, because it would have been nearly impossible to rub a chandelier clear up to the ceiling every week. They brought out the step-ladder and wiped it off with a dry duster, however, and then they washed the globes nicely in warm water, and dried them. Globes often got very dusty, the aunt said, and nobody remembered to wash them off instead of merely dusting them once in awhile, and then the family thought the gas must be very poor because the light was dim. "Now, auntie, what next?" Margaret asked, when this work was done. "The sitting-room fireplace," her aunt replied. "It is full of wood ashes." Margaret went once more to the broom closet and got a shovel, a dust-pan, a whisk-broom, a damp cloth, and a newspaper. There were andirons in the fireplace and the ashes lay all over and around them, so her aunt first helped her lift these heavy things out on the newspaper at one side. Then she told her to sweep most of the ashes into a small pile right in the centre of the hearth, at the back. "But, auntie, they won't burn any more; why don't I take them right out!" asked Margaret. "Because they make the fire burn better and last longer. You can take up part of them and put them in the scuttle, but leave some, and especially all the bits of charred wood; it would be wasteful to take those away." Margaret carefully swept up the greater part of the ashes, working from the edges of the hearth toward the middle, and put them into the scuttle. Once she spilled a shovelful, but as a newspaper was spread on the carpet it did not matter. Her aunt told her to be sure and always have plenty of papers ready to use in housework, because in the end they saved so much work. "Suppose you had to sweep up those ashes," she said, "and clean the carpet, too, would not that be a bother! Now if the hearth is clean, wipe it with the damp cloth, and dust off the andirons well. If there had been a grate here you would have had to polish it with the blacking from the kitchen stove. When you have finished you can get more paper and kindling and lay a fire." They put crumpled paper between the andirons, covering all the ashes which lay there so they did not show. On this they laid kindling, crossed, and then some pieces of wood. When they gathered up the newspaper there was nothing to brush from the carpet, and everything was neat. "There," said her aunt, "that's all for to-day. Run and wash your face and hands,--they need it!" CHAPTER VIII HOUSECLEANING; CELLAR AND ATTIC Margaret's Saturday morning lessons were interrupted at this point by the spring housecleaning. Everybody was so busy taking up and putting down carpets, hanging curtains and pictures over, putting away winter clothes and getting out summer ones, that the lessons seemed forgotten. The grandmother, however, remembered, and one day she took the little girl around the house while the cleaning was going on, showing her how the work was done. They found the guest-room had been finished, so they sat down there and talked. "Housecleaning is very different nowadays from what it used to be," she began. "We used to take up all the carpets at once, and keep everything upset for a week or two, and then get all to rights. Now we take a room at a time, and so do the whole house gradually and comfortably. Perhaps the work is divided, and part done in the spring and part in the fall, to make it still easier. Then we do not take up every carpet every year, as we did. This guest-room carpet, for one, does not need beating and cleaning and putting down again, because the room is not used all the time, and once or twice a year it has a scrubbing with warm water or turpentine or ammonia after it is swept." "Yes," said Margaret, "I learned about that in my sweeping lesson." "When this room was cleaned," her grandmother went on, "the curtains were taken down, and the pictures wiped off and put into the storeroom. The furniture was well dusted and put away also, and the bed all taken apart, the mattress beaten gently, the springs dusted and wiped off; the bed slats were washed in hot soap and water, and put away, too. Then the bed itself was taken to pieces and washed in warm soap-suds, because being white iron they could not hurt it. If it had been a wooden bed it would have been wiped with a damp cloth. And then, Margaret, what do you think? a brush dipped in turpentine was put in all the corners of the bed and the springs, so that if by any chance a little bug should have crept in there to hide, it would be driven out." Margaret looked disgusted. "We don't have bugs in our beds," she said, indignantly. "Nice, clean people never do." Her grandmother smiled. "Even a very nice, clean person may bring home a bug from a crowded street-car," she said. "And if it happens to be on a coat which is thrown on a bed, it may crawl quickly into a corner without anybody's seeing it, and presently the bed will have half a dozen bugs in it. Of course a good housekeeper would never let them stay in a bed a single minute after she finds out they are there, and she always hunts occasionally, at least as often as every few months, so that she may be perfectly sure everything is all right. If ever you think you are perfectly safe, my dear, and do not look to make sure, you will be the very one to be surprised some day! You must often put the mattress on a sheet on the floor, and look all along the edge and in the corners and under the ties. The spring must be painted with turpentine, especially in the hidden places, and so must the corners of the bed. It is a good plan to use only metal beds with iron spring frames, for bugs like wood much better; they seldom stay where there is none. If you ever find a bug, or the tiny black speck it makes, get the white of an egg and beat it with a teaspoonful of quicksilver, and paint everything with it, and you will have no more trouble. "After the bed is cleaned and taken down, the floor is to be swept twice over, and the carpet taken away; the paper under it may be swept clean in the yard. The walls are to be swept down with a soft brush, or a broom covered with a duster. The closet is to be emptied entirely, the drawers, shelves, floor, and baseboard washed well, and the closet floor washed also. The windows must be cleaned and all the woodwork washed in warm water with a little nice soap, and rinsed well. When all is fresh and the floor dry, the paper can be laid, the carpet put down, the furniture wiped again, the bed put together and made, the pictures hung, and the fresh curtains put up, if they are used in summer, and the room will be thoroughly done. All rooms are alike in the way they are cleaned. First do the closets, remember, all the drawers as well as shelves; then, shutting this up, empty the room, and do walls, floor, paint, and windows. If there is a matting down, this must be wiped off with salted water, which freshens it. Now I think we can go down to the cellar for the next part of the lesson." The cellar proved to be rather chilly, but they stayed long enough to learn a good many things about it. There were two rooms, one for the coal and wood, and one for vegetables and preserved fruit and such things. All these, Margaret was told, must be looked after. The fuel room should have several bins, one for kitchen coal, one for furnace coal, and one low one for wood; it was untidy to leave any of these lying in heaps on the floor. The vegetables had to be constantly looked over for fear any should decay, and so bring sickness to the family, who might never know why it came. The preserves must be examined, lest any begin to leak, and the whole place must be kept cool and dry by having a window open a little at the top, with a good bolt or a few nails to keep any one from opening it from the outside. The windows did not need to be washed quite as often as those up-stairs, but they should never be left grimy and dirty. "A good housekeeper always keeps watch of her cellar," said the grandmother. "She sees that the air is fresh, the floor clean, the walls free from cobwebs, and that no rubbish is allowed to accumulate. The wood and coal must not get too low in the bins; the grocer's boxes must be kept chopped into kindling, and, most important of all, every cellar should have a good coat of whitewash every spring to make it all sweet and clean." Margaret said she thought she knew this part of her lesson now, and that cellars were not so very interesting. "Well, suppose we take the attic next," grandmother said, smiling; "that is, if you are really certain you can keep your own cellar clean and nice when you have one." Margaret promised to try. The attic was a nice, dusky room, with some old furniture, trunks, and boxes, rolls of carpet, and bags of pieces. It had a dry, comfortable sort of smell in the air. "I like attics," said Margaret. "I mean to have a great big one some day, all full of interesting things, like the girls in story-books." "The more things in your attic the more trouble you will have to be a good housekeeper," said her grandmother. "Let us sit down on this sofa for our lesson, and suppose that was really your own attic. What would you do to put it in order and keep it so!" "Well," said Margaret, thoughtfully, "I'd move everything out and sweep it; then I'd brush off the walls and wash the windows; then I'd arrange things--and then it would be done." "Oh, no!" her grandmother replied. "That isn't half. I see you needed the lesson on the attic, as I thought. Now listen: "You see it is rather dark up here, and so moths love the place, and if it was left to them they would eat up all that is in the trunks. The first thing in cleaning an attic is to empty all the trunks, one at a time, and look everything over. There are pieces of clothing which may be used again which have to go outdoors on the line in the sunshine and be beaten, and furs, especially, require this done frequently. Your pretty little baby things are in one trunk, and those your mother wishes to keep always, so she airs them and refolds the dresses so they will not get discolored streaks by lying always one way; the flannels are aired, too, and folded in papers with perhaps a bit of camphor or a moth ball, though these are not as much protection as the constant airing and shaking is. "In that large trunk there are some old silk dresses, and such things, which are also to be kept. Moths do not touch silks, but these, too, must be taken out and shaken and refolded once in awhile to keep them from cracking in the places where they have laid. Once a year, at least, all trunks must be emptied, wiped out, and relined with fresh papers, the things aired and put back freshly. "If there are any clothes which are being kept which, after all, are not needed, it is always best to give them away before they are out of style or moth-eaten. It is wrong to keep things one does not want when so many are cold. One always keeps certain things like your mother's wedding-gown, and some handsome pieces of velvet, too valuable to give away, and other things which would be of no use to any one else; but your father's old clothes, and your outgrown dresses, and my heavy winter coat which I shall not wear again, must all go before they are half-spoiled by lying. "You see there are several piece-bags hanging up; those we must go over, too. We always keep bits of our dresses to patch with, or to use in re-making them. But sometimes we keep the pieces long after the dress is gone, when perhaps some one would like them for patchwork, or to make a pincushion or needle-book out of. The pieces must be sorted often, the woollen ones put by themselves with moth balls, and the silk and cotton ones divided, some to keep, and some to give to anybody who needs them more than we do. "The roll of old carpet is to go away, too, this time to be made into a kitchen rug. Carpets must not be left in the attic or they will surely make a nice home for moth-families. The broken chairs are to go to-day to be mended, I heard your mother say this morning. Some she will use again, and the rest she will pass on to somebody who wants chairs and has not enough. This old sofa, of course, she will keep, because some day she will have it re-covered; it is a strong, good piece of furniture, and she knows we can use it. "The summer clothes are kept in those two large trunks under the window; in a few days they will go down-stairs, and the winter ones, all shaken and beaten on the clothes-line till they are fresh and clean, will be packed away carefully in their places after the trunks have had fresh paper put in them. Do you know how to put away winter clothes, by the way?" Margaret said she did not think she did, so they stopped the lesson for a minute to put this in. "After the things are aired well, fold each dress or coat or suit of clothes up by itself, and pin it snugly in newspapers, which moths do not like. Tie a strong string around the bundle to lift it by, and paste a slip of paper on the top, and write on this plainly just what is inside. If you have anything very nice to put away, such as a broadcloth suit, put it in a new paste-board box and paste a strip of paper all around the edge of the cover; use good mucilage, and the moths cannot possibly get at it. Put furs in paper bags after they are clean, and hang them from the rafters. Hats and such things may go into boxes, and you can lay a paper over each box before putting on its cover, to keep the dust out. Summer clothes do not need so much care; just fold them neatly and put them in a nice clean trunk, and they will take care of themselves. Now do you think you know how to keep a cellar and attic in good order? Suppose you make up a rule to give me." Margaret thought a moment. "Keep the cellar clean," she said at length, "and give away the things in the attic." Her grandmother laughed. "Keep both the cellar and attic clean, and don't hoard uselessly," she corrected. CHAPTER IX LAUNDRY WORK Margaret's teachers held a meeting before her next lesson. They could not decide whether she should be taught to wash and iron or not. Her Pretty Aunt said, "Certainly not! She will never need to know. Even on a desert island she will find some Woman Friday to do her laundry work!" "But," suggested her Other Aunt, "suppose she had a very beautiful thin dress to be washed, and had a very poor laundress to do it who might spoil it; don't you think she would wish she knew how to do it herself?" "Besides," said her mother, "however could she teach an ignorant servant to wash and iron if she did not know how?" "Of course she must know," said her grandmother, sternly. "I will teach her myself." So on Friday night Margaret made up a bundle of clothes as she was told; "samples," grandmother called them, because there were some of every sort of thing found in a regular washing; these they took down to the laundry. "The first thing is to sort the clothes," the lesson began. "Put the white, starched things in one pile; the bed and table linen in another; the flannels by themselves; the stockings by themselves; the handkerchiefs and colored things in two more piles. "Many people do not soak clothes over night, and it is not necessary to do so, but I am going to teach you to do it because it is the easiest way. If you are ready, look over the white things first for spots. Coffee, tea, and fruit stains must have boiling water poured through them till they disappear. Rust must be rubbed with lemon juice and salt and laid on a new, shiny tin in the sunshine till the spot disappears; some people use acid, but this is apt to eat the cloth. Blood stains must be soaked in cold water; get the handkerchief you had on your cut finger and put it in this pail. Now wet the white things only, rub on a little soap, and get out every spot; put them in nice rolls, the soapy side turned in, and lay them all in the warm water in these two tubs, clothing in one, and table and bed linen in the other--never put the two together. Do not soak the flannels or they will shrink; nor the colored things, or they will fade; nor the stockings. "The handkerchiefs, well soaped and rubbed and squeezed, go into a pail of water all alone with a tablespoonful of kerosene to kill any germs of cold in the head which may be in one of them, and would spread to all the handkerchiefs. The oil boils out and does not smell after they are ironed. That is all for to-night, but be up bright and early in the morning, for only lazy people hang out their washing at noon." The next day Margaret came into the laundry with her biggest apron and her sleeves rolled up and pinned to her shoulders, ready for work. "Flannels first," she was told. "Draw two tubs of warm water, one just exactly as warm as the other. Put in some nice white soap and make a good suds, and then take it out and put in the flannels; rub and squeeze them with your hands till they are clean, but never rub them on the wash-board, or put any soap directly on them or they will grow hard and stiff; as soon as they are clean, wring them out and rinse them in the second water. The reason why they must be washed and rinsed in the same sort of water is that if they were dropped from cold to hot or hot to cold water they would shrink all up and be spoiled at once. A little ammonia or borax in the rinsing water makes them soft and white. You cannot take too much care in washing flannels, for they are expensive and easily spoiled; think how often your winter undervests are shrunken before they are half-worn, and how once Bridget spoiled a pair of beautiful new blankets she washed for the first time, all because the two waters were not just alike, and because she rubbed soap on them and made them hard and yellow. Now you may wring yours out with your hands and hang them out on the line." When Margaret came in again her grandmother had put the white apron into the water the flannels had been rinsed in, for its first bath. She said it was still fresh and warm and soapy and ought not to be wasted. The first tubful, however, she had thrown away as useless any longer. She told Margaret to put a little more soap on the apron and gently rub it on the board, turning it over and over till it was clean; then she dropped it in the wash-boiler, which her grandmother had filled with fresh water and put on the fire. The linen was washed in the same way, rubbing and turning it till it was all fresh, and putting it in the boiler. The water was allowed to boil up well for a moment, the clothes pushed down and turned around with a stick as they rose to the top. They were lifted out with the stick into a tub of fresh, hot water, and rinsed till all the soap was out, and dropped in a tub of cold water which had a little blueing in it. Here they were rinsed once more, and wrung out dry and then put out in the sunshine. Bridget had hung a low clothes-line for Margaret between two small trees, so she could easily reach it. The clothes-pins were in one of her aprons, in a pocket made by turning up the bottom almost half-way to the belt, so none could fall out. This apron was made of heavy ticking, and none of the water reached her dress as she carried out the wet things to the line. When she came in this second time she found her grandmother ready to make starch. As there were only a very few things to stiffen she measured a heaping tablespoonful of dry starch, wet it with just as much cold water, and added a cup of boiling water, with a half-teaspoonful of sugar, to make it extra nice and glossy. The white apron was dipped in this and wrung out; then more water was added till the starch was like milk, and the pillow-cases and gingham apron were dipped in. "I never starch table or bed linen," said her grandmother, "but you may, if you wish to, if you use very thin starch. I know a better way to make such things look nice, however, and when we iron I will teach it to you. Now we must finish the washing. Wash and rinse the stockings in hot water, but do not boil them; wash and rinse and boil the handkerchiefs by themselves. When these are all on the line, and you have made the laundry tidy, you can rest for an hour, while the irons get nice and hot, and then we will take the second half of the laundry lesson." The sunshine had made everything dry and sweet when Margaret brought in the clothes from the line and heaped them on the laundry table. She spread the napkins and pillow-cases out smoothly, and from a nice white bowl of clean water she sprinkled them, one at a time, and smoothed out the creases as her grandmother showed her. "The fewer wrinkles, the easier ironing," she said. Each was made into a tidy roll and laid in the basket again. The handkerchiefs were sprinkled also, and made into one roll and laid by them. The flannels were still damp, and so just ready to iron as they were, and so were the stockings. As the irons were hot, Margaret now spread the ironing-pad of flannel over the table, and laid the ironing-sheet very smoothly over it. She put the iron-stand on one corner on a square, white tile, so the heat would not burn the cloth underneath and got out a thick, soft holder. She also got out the ironing-board, because the flannel petticoats were easier to manage on this than on the table. She tried the iron by holding it to her cheek, and found it quite warm. Then she wet the tip of her finger, as she had seen Bridget do, and quickly touched it. It seemed just right, hot, but not burning, so she began on the stockings, and ironed them flat, on the right side, turning each one over and pressing both sides. She did not turn in the toes, because some of them needed to be darned, and whoever did it would have to turn each one back to see if there were any holes in it; but she made them into pairs, folding each once, and hung them on the little clothes-horse standing before the fire. The flannel skirts she slipped over the skirt-board, and ironed them by beginning at the hem and working toward the belt, pulling each one around the board to bring the unironed part up. These, too, she hung near the fire, because flannels take so long to grow perfectly dry. The table napkins were a real pleasure to do. Her grandmother taught her why they needed no starch--because if they were ironed over and over, with a good hot iron, first on one side and then on the other, they grew a little stiff, and became very glossy and beautiful, like satin, while if starch was used they easily got too stiff. These were folded very carefully indeed, so the edges exactly matched, and laid in a pile by themselves. By the time these were done the iron was again cool and had to be changed for the second time for a hot one. Linen, the grandmother explained, needed hot irons, but one should always be very careful not to have them so hot that there is any danger of scorching, because linen is very expensive, and easily ruined. The towels were ironed exactly as the napkins had been, on both sides, and again and again, till they were dry and shining. Then they were folded carefully, not in four narrow folds, but in three parts, so they would "look generous," grandmother said. The side edges had to match exactly, and the lower edge had to be a tiny bit longer than the rest, so that when hung on the towel-rack it would be perfect. This took time, but when once Margaret learned how they should look, she said it was no trouble. The white apron also took some time to do because it had to be polished, and the gatherings and ruffles were bothersome, but still it was done presently, and also the gingham apron, which was easier. The handkerchiefs were only play, but they had to be carefully folded, so the edges would be even. At last everything was done, and there was a whole clothes-horse full of beautiful clothes. It looked like a blossoming tree, all white and fragrant, and Margaret felt very proud and happy as she ran to call the family to come and admire. "I knew she could learn!" said her grandmother, nodding to her mother, as they all came in to look and praise the little laundress. CHAPTER X THE LINEN CLOSET; PANTRIES; POLISHING SILVER; THE CARE OF THE REFRIGERATOR; CLEANING THE LAMPS "I think," said the Pretty Aunt one day, "we must be coming to the end of the Saturday morning lessons. We have had the kitchen and dining-room, the bedrooms, halls, and parlors, the bathroom, cellar, attic, and vestibule. I really can't think of anything else to teach Margaret about the care of the house." "Why," exclaimed the Other Aunt, "I can! I can think of five or six things you have not said a word about; all important ones, too!" "How nice!" laughed the Pretty Aunt, "because now you can give the lesson!" Margaret had felt disappointed when she thought the lessons were over, for she liked to learn something new each week; so when she was told to put on a clean apron and be ready in half a minute, she ran off in a hurry. Her aunt was in the upper hall when she appeared, with the door of the linen closet open, and she told Margaret they would begin here. "This little room is the one good housekeepers are especially fond of," she began. "Clean, white linen, polished and beautiful, is a joy to look at and handle, and every woman is proud if she has a quantity, all nicely kept. Let us begin with the shelves, taking them in order, and see what is on each." The top one held blankets, each pair folded together smoothly and pinned up in a clean, strong piece of white cotton cloth, and labelled. The first label read, "Guest-room blankets," and when they were opened there lay a fresh, soft, fleecy pair, with a lovely border of pale pink, and edges of broad pink ribbon. "This is your mother's very best pair of blankets," began her aunt. "They are cut in two and bound alike at each end, you see; they have never been washed or cleaned yet, so they are still very white and soft. By and by they will begin to look a little soiled, and then they will be cleaned perhaps, once or twice, and presently they will be washed, and they will not be nearly as nice as they are now, though well-washed blankets should still be fleecy and white." "'Soft, warm water, with suds of white soap,'" murmured Margaret, reviewing her laundry lesson; "'rub with your hands, rinse in the same sort of water as you used in washing, with a little borax or ammonia, and they will look like new.'" "Splendid!" said her aunt. "I see you can wash blankets to perfection. But even so, some day there will be new ones for the guest-room, and these will be on one of the family beds. The next two or three bundles, you see, are clean, washed blankets, in pairs, laid away till they are needed. All blankets have to be put on the line in the sunshine frequently whether they are washed or not, or they may be eaten by moths. "Here are a few clean comfortables next, on this second shelf, done up like the blankets. These have to be washed, too, and are more difficult to manage than blankets, because they are so heavy; they have to be aired often to keep them sweet, for the cotton holds odors easily. Then come the white spreads, the heavy Marseilles in one pile, the lighter ones in another, and the single ones and double ones kept separate. "The third shelf holds towels, you see. This pile is for the best ones; notice how beautifully they are ironed and folded, and how the embroidered initials stand out. The ordinary bedroom towels come next; see how many your mother has, and how each kind is by itself: the hemstitched ones in one pile, the plain huckaback in another; those with colored borders in this one, and the bath towels in that. Any one could come in and get a towel in the dark, sure of taking just the right one. You must remember always to keep your own towels just this way; too many people mix them in in any careless fashion, and do not take the trouble to have them arranged neatly, but it's the best way to do. "The sheets and pillow-cases are in these deep drawers. This top one has the double sheets and the best linen ones; notice how they lie in piles, each kind by itself, just like the towels. They are all marked on the narrow edge, and so they can be recognized at a glance; the large sheets have your mother's full name. In this next drawer are the single bed sheets, marked with her first initials, and her last name. The servants' sheets have only her three initials. You see how easy it is to tell which is which. The pillow-cases are marked in the same way, and put in piles. You must be sure when you have a washing to put away that you do not put the clean things on top of each pile, and then take them off again to use at once; put things on top and take them off the bottom of the pile, so they will all be used in turn. Now for the table-linen." This was in another drawer, and Margaret exclaimed when she saw how beautiful it was. The cloths were like satin, the napkins which matched lay in dozens by them; the every-day cloths and napkins were by themselves, and the small lunch-cloths had a pile of their own. The doilies were in a smaller drawer, all in piles, too, and the pretty centrepieces were fastened around stiff paper made into rolls. "If you ever have lovely table-linen you will want to keep it nicely," said the aunt. "I think it is high time you had some, too. I believe in the old German custom of making a linen-chest for each girl; so learn your lesson well, and when your birthday comes who knows what you'll get? Perhaps a lunch-cloth or some embroidered napkins!" "I'd like some towels, too," Margaret said, soberly. "I guess I'd like to have some linen every birthday." "Very well, I'll remember," said her aunt as they closed the drawers. "And when you really begin to fill your chest I will make you some pretty bags of lavender to lay among your sheets and pillow-cases to make them smell sweet. We will go down-stairs now." The pantry shelves were looked over next; in the china-closet in the dining-room everything was in order; the dishes neatly arranged on white paper, with pretty scalloped flouncings hanging over the front. The plates were piled in sets, the platters were together, the glasses and small dishes on the sides of the closet where the shelves were short. There was really nothing to be done here, so they went into the kitchen. The pantry where the pots and pans stood had rather dingy papers, and they decided to have a good cleaning. They took everything off and washed the shelves with warm water and borax and wiped them dry, and put on fresh papers. The tins and dishes which were seldom used, were then arranged on the highest shelf, and those which were used every day were put lower down. The little things, such as the skimmer, the small sieve, the egg-beater, and the spoons, were hung on nails driven into the edge of the shelf which was over the baking-table in the kitchen, where stood also the cups, bowls, and plates used in cooking, within easy reach. When they were done, the aunt said, "Always watch for ants in the pantry, and roaches and water-bugs in the sink. Ants hate borax, so you can put that on the shelves in all the corners, and it will help keep them away. Roaches come to the sink for food, and you must see to it that they do not find it. Keep it perfectly clean and scalded out, especially at night, and never let the sink-basket have any crumbs in it. If, in spite of everything, the bugs do come, put insect powder on the corners of all the woodwork and use washing-soda to flush the drain every day, and they will get discouraged and leave your house for somebody else's, where there is something in the sink for them. Now for the refrigerator." Margaret helped empty this entirely, setting the things in it on the table, and putting the ice in a large dish. They looked underneath at the pan into which the ice drained and found it half-full, so they emptied it. Then the lesson began as usual. "You see all these little covered bowls and plates with bits of food on them. We never put nice china dishes in a refrigerator, for fear of breaking them; this heavy, yellow ware is just the thing, and a saucer can go over each bowl. We do not put anything in which has a strong odor, such as onions or cheese, or they would make everything taste like themselves. Butter must be in a covered crock, and milk in bottles with a tight top. Warm food must never go in, or it will waste the ice. Let us look in the top; you see there is a nice piece of ice, all covered up with a bit of old blanket, so it will last. You must watch and see that you do not take more ice than you really need and use it economically. Some people never cover it at all, because it keeps the food colder if it is left so, but often it is unnecessary; there may be little food in the box, and that would keep as well if it were not quite as cold. Now you may get a basin of water, two clean cloths, and the borax, and I will show you how to clean a refrigerator." Margaret put a tablespoonful of borax in the water, rung out her cloth, and washed out all the inside of the great box, poking a little stick into the corners, and scrubbing the shelves thoroughly, as well as the sides and bottom. Then she wiped them dry and the food was put in again neatly. There had been a small pan of charcoal in one corner, and this was emptied on a paper and the pan refilled from a bag near by and put back. "What do you put black charcoal in the clean box for?" Margaret asked, curiously. "Because it dislikes a disagreeable odor, and destroys it at once," her aunt replied. "We change this pan every few days because it will take up only so much, while fresh charcoal will keep everything sweet and nice; Bridget burns up what is not fresh, putting it in the fire when she wants to broil or toast, for it makes a clear fire without flame. It only costs a few cents for a large bagful, and we can always have it on hand. "Remember to wash out your refrigerator at least three times a week. This is very important, indeed; if you forget it somebody in the family may be very ill. If you have not time to wash it out and still sweep the parlors, let the parlors go!" Just as they finished they noticed the garbage pail outside the door and took a look into it. It was nearly empty, so Margaret got a dipper of boiling water and a handful of washing-soda and put them in, as her aunt told her, to keep the pail from getting greasy and sour. "The better the housekeeper the less she has in her garbage pail, and the cleaner it is kept," she said, as she put back the cover. "We have still one pleasant thing and one disagreeable thing to do before we are done this morning; which would you rather take first?" asked the aunt. Margaret said she thought she would keep the pleasant one to finish off with. "Then get a newspaper," was the reply, "and spread it over the table, first of all." "That's the way most kitchen lessons seem to begin," said Margaret, as she took one from the paper drawer. "'First get a newspaper.'" "And very sensible, too," smiled her aunt. "It saves so much work if everything can be carried away and the table left clean at once. You may go to the closet and bring the box of things for the lamps while I bring the large one from the sitting-room." The box proved to have in it two cloths, one of flannel, and a white one free from lint; a pair of scissors; a round brush with a wire handle, and a piece of soap. The lamp was taken to pieces, filled with kerosene from the can kept in the cellar-way, and wiped off nicely. The charred wick was rubbed and trimmed, and the corners rounded a little to keep them from throwing the flame against the sides of the chimney and breaking it. The glass chimney was put in a basin of warm water with soap-suds, and washed with the flannel cloth, rubbed with the round brush, and wiped dry with the white cloth. Whenever a new wick was put in a lamp, Margaret was told, the burner should be boiled with washing-soda to free it from clogging oil, and if a wick ever smelled it was to be cooked a few minutes in vinegar and dried, and it would then be all right again. When the lamp was put back they gathered up the things used, and put the newspaper with the kindling for the kitchen fire. "Now for the pleasant thing," Margaret said, as she carried away the oil-can and washed her hands. "I don't think doing lamps is very nice work." "No, it is not," her aunt replied; "but it is certainly very nice to have a clear, strong light to read by at night, and you cannot have that unless the lamp is perfectly clean, so the work is worth doing. Look now on the closet shelf once more and find another box with the silver polish, while I go for the basket from the sideboard." Once more a newspaper was spread on the table, and they set out the box of powder, a small flannel cloth, a little saucer of water, a soft brush, and a chamois. They dipped the flannel into the water, then into the powder, and rubbed the pieces of silver well, scrubbing them with the brush, except where they were perfectly smooth, as in the bowls of the spoons. When it was done they washed it in hot water, wiped it dry, and polished it well with the chamois, and it shone like new. As they put it away again they counted it carefully, using the list which was kept in the bottom of the basket; every piece was there, fortunately, so no time was lost in hunting for it. "Do you count the silver every time it is cleaned?" Margaret inquired, as she took up the basket to put it away. "Every single time," said her aunt, firmly. "It must always be done. One can find a missing spoon when it first disappears, but not after it has been gone a month or more." "We are all done," Margaret said, cheerfully, as they put the kitchen to rights. "Won't Bridget be pleased when she sees her clean refrigerator and pantry, and the nice shiny silver,--and the garbage pail too! That looks just as nice as can be!" "Of course it does," said her aunt. "Everything looks nice when it is clean." CHAPTER XI MARKETING AND KEEPING ACCOUNTS "I think it must be my turn to give you your lesson to-day," said Margaret's Pretty Aunt at breakfast-time, "because I have thought of something none of your other teachers have as much as mentioned. You can get ready as soon as possible." "Which apron?" asked the little girl, curiously. "No apron at all," said her aunt; "your hat and coat. We are going a-marketing. How can anybody be a good housekeeper without knowing how to buy a dinner?" Before they set out they went to the kitchen with a small pad and pencil, and looked into the refrigerator to see what they had already, to know what they would need to buy. There proved to be several things which would be used for luncheon, and then they asked Bridget what she wanted them to get. She said she was out of flour and granulated sugar, and would want raisins and coffee and tea, beside a vegetable for dinner and some lettuce and meat. They planned the meals together, and decided on having a dessert of apple-tart, made with apples and cream, and these were added to the list Margaret wrote down so nothing would be forgotten; then they set out. They stopped at the grocery first, and Margaret was told to order a seven-pound bag of sugar. While the clerk was getting it the aunt explained that this was a better way to buy it than to get it loose, as then it would be sent home in a paper bag, which might break and spill it; then, too, the nice cotton bag in which it would come home would be just the thing to strain jelly through. The flour was also ordered in a bag, this time a large one. "Some things we buy in small quantities because there is danger of waste in the kitchen if there is an unlimited supply at hand. But flour is needed every day, and never wasted, so we buy a good deal of that at a time. If we had a very large family we would buy a whole barrel at once, and so save a little money; as it is, the big bag does very well for us. Now for coffee; tell the clerk to give you his very best Java and Mocha mixed, in a tin can. We will take it browned, but not ground." "I thought Bridget always browned the coffee," said Margaret, who remembered the delicious smell which often had filled the house when the coffee came from the oven. "So she did," her aunt explained, "until we found she would sometimes burn just a few grains each time, which made the whole taste burned. Now we buy it in a can, only a pound or two at a time, and of a man who has just had it browned for him. We keep the tin closely shut always so the odor cannot escape, and grind each morning only as much as we need, and have this heated very hot just before the water is added, and that gives it the same fresh odor you remember. It is the easiest way to manage, though, of course, freshly roasted coffee is the best of all. But remember always to get a good quality in buying, for poor coffee is not fit to drink. Order the tea, when the clerk is ready, and get that also in a package, because it is cleaner and fresher that way. You can pay anything you like for tea, from thirty cents a pound to about two dollars, but your mother gets a black tea without a bit of green mixed in it for from sixty to eighty cents, and buys it in half-pound packages. What is next on the list?" "Raisins," said Margaret. "Well, order those in a paper box, the kind which come already seeded, and when you get them home, take them out of the box and shut them up in a glass jar with a tight top, to keep them fresh. The vegetables come now, but before we buy those you must put down in this little book what we have bought already, with the price of each article opposite. I could wait till we got home, but I am afraid you may forget the cost of things, because you are not used to them." She handed Margaret a cunning little book and a tiny pencil, and showed her how to find the right month and day printed at the top of the page, and to put down under a column headed "Groceries," just what they had bought so far and what each thing cost. After this they crossed the shop to the place where the vegetables and fruit were piled, and looked these over. The apples were of all kinds, sweet and sour, big and little, red and green. Margaret said she would take the biggest red ones for the apple-tart. "No, those are not cooking apples, they are meant for the table," her aunt told her. "And do not take the yellow ones, because they are sweet and only good for baking. Take a nice green apple, not too large, because the smaller ones do just as well and cost less. Let us get half a peck of those greenings. We want oranges for breakfast, too, though Bridget forgot to say so. Can you pick those out, do you think?" There were a good many boxes of these, some with rough skins, some with smooth, some with little bunches at the end. These last, her aunt explained to the little girl, were seedless and rather too dry for breakfast, though very nice for dinner. "The rough-skinned ones are light, as you will see if you lift one, so they would have little juice. Choose a heavy one of medium size and a rather smooth skin; but do not get those which are a very light yellow, for they may be sour." The vegetables had to be looked over carefully. Spinach proved withered, so they passed it by; the cauliflower had tiny black spots on it; the green string beans would not snap as they should when they were bent; but they found a large egg plant, with a fresh, smooth skin, which they took. The lettuce was all dark green, with thick strong leaves, and the aunt said it would never do; lettuce must be in heads, like cabbage, and pale green. Instead they chose some chicory with a white centre, which seemed crisp and newly gathered. All these things were written down in Margaret's account-book under "Fruits" and "Vegetables." A nice dairy was not far from the grocery, and there they ordered a little bottle of cream and put this down in the book before they went on to the meat market. As they entered this shop her aunt said the lesson here was so long it would take years to learn it, and they would only take the a, b, c, of it in one day. "Buying good meat means learning day after day," she explained. "However, there are some things you can learn this morning, and one is to be sure you buy in a clean place. Look around the floor and see whether the sawdust is fresh; notice the odor of the place and whether it is disagreeable or not; look at the counter, too, and be sure it is white and freshly wiped off; and above all, see whether the meat is kept in the ice-box at the back of the shop, not hung up on nails, or left lying carelessly about. Don't buy any meat which has been hanging or lying around; insist that it comes from the box." "But I can't think of the kinds of meat there are if I don't see them," Margaret said, anxiously. "You will learn," the aunt smiled. "I am sure you will never be willing to eat meat which you are not certain is clean. Then look well at what the butcher brings out to show you. Beef ought to be firm, clear red and white, and not streaked with little lines; mutton must not be too fat; veal not too young--you can tell when it is because then it will be very small. Bacon must not be too lean nor too salt, and cut as thin as a wafer. Fish must be fresh, with nice, clear eyes. Chickens too often are buried in a barrel of chopped ice for weeks, and come out blue and clammy; such are not fit to eat. Suppose we buy a pair of roasting chickens this morning, and then you will see how they ought to look." The butcher brought out a pair which were yellow and dry, showing they had not been covered with ice. The aunt bent down the breastbone to see if they were tender, and showed the little girl that if it had been too stiff to bend she would have known by that that they would not do. She also looked inside to see if there was a good deal of fat, for this, too, was a sign of age. She said they had few pin-feathers, were firm and plump, and the feet were clean, so she was quite sure they would be good, and told the butcher to send them home, and not to forget the giblets. "Chicken liver gravy!" Margaret exclaimed at this. "I like your lessons, auntie!" After they reached home and their things were put away the account-book was brought out again, and a lesson given in that. Margaret had to listen carefully, for it seemed rather difficult at first. "It is best to know always how much you are going to spend on your table every week," her aunt began. "At first you may spend too much or too little, but by looking over your book you can tell in a moment where the trouble lies, and the next week you can make it right. Some things cost a great deal, such as turkeys, or strawberries too early in the season, or certain fancy groceries, and by seeing just where your money has gone you can remember the next time not to get these. Look at the different columns in your book. One says Groceries, the next, Vegetables; then Fruits; Milk and Cream; Butter and Eggs; Meat; Fish; Wages; Incidentals. You can put down under these exactly what you spend each day, and when the month is over you can put down in another book what each has amounted to. Let me show you: "Suppose when you add up your columns in your day-book you find at the end of the month you have spent twelve dollars for groceries, fifteen for meat, four for vegetables, three for fruit, and so on. You simply open your second book at the right month and put down what the whole has been; the next month you do the same thing under the new date, and so on. At the end of the year you do not have to go over all the little sums spent each day, but by looking in the right book under each month you can see exactly what all the meat cost and all the vegetables, and so on. If your October bill for meat was larger than it ought to have been and more than it was in September or November, you can look back and see just why, if you care to. Under Incidentals you put all your car-fares spent in shopping for the house, and such things as dust-cloths, or new kitchen tins. When the last of December comes you can see all you spent during the whole year by adding what each month came to, and know exactly how much it costs you to live, and you can plan to spend more or less next year, as you think best. That is not hard to understand, is it?" "No," said Margaret, "not to understand, but you see I am afraid I will forget to put things down, and then I will not know after all what I spent." "But you must put them down at once," her aunt said. "Either taking a pencil with you to market, or writing them down as soon as you come home. You will soon learn, and you will like the plan more and more. It is so nice to know exactly where the money went, day by day." "Sometimes the grocer has a little book to put things down, too," said the little girl. "If he has a book why do I have to have one?" "Because he may make a mistake, for one thing," her aunt replied, "and because if you have him put things down and do not do it too, you spend more than you think, and grow extravagant. You can pay each day, if you prefer, or once a week, or once a month; some people like one way, and some another about this, but you should always keep your own accounts, anyway, and know what you have had and how much, and what it cost; and at the end of each month you must copy off the result of adding your columns, and see what the expenses of the month have come to, and so at the end of the year. That's the way a good housekeeper does!" "Well," said Margaret, "then I will do that way, too, even if it is some trouble." "That's right," said her aunt. "If you do, I'll give you the loveliest set of account-books and the prettiest silver pencil I can buy when Christmas comes." "Oh, I truly, truly will!" Margaret exclaimed. "I'll put down every single penny." CHAPTER XII THE DAY'S WORK It happened that just as Margaret was finishing her Saturday morning lessons Bridget had to go away for a few days, and the last lesson of all, which was given by her mother, was really a sort of review of what she had learned, such as she had in her school lessons. It was hardly more than six o'clock in the morning when the little girl woke and jumped out of bed. She dressed softly so that she should not wake any one, and took her bed to pieces and set her closet door open, as she had learned in her Bedroom lesson. She threw up the windows and hung up her night-dress, and then left the room, closing the door behind her. Her mother met her in the hall, and they went down-stairs together, tying on their clean gingham aprons as they went. The house was all shut up of course, so they opened the front doors, raised the shades in the parlors, and opened the windows a little to change the air. In the kitchen the fire was burning, shut up as they had left it the night before, and they first closed it to shake it down, and then opened the drafts and put on fresh coal, as Margaret had learned when she studied about the range. While the fire was burning up she pinned a little shawl about her head and swept off the front steps and sidewalk, and came in all glowing from the cold air. By this time the fire was hot and bright, and the cereal was put on to cook in the double boiler, the kettle filled with fresh water and put on to boil for coffee. Her mother said she would stay out in the kitchen and make muffins for breakfast while the other rooms were put in order, so Margaret went into the parlors and sitting-room and straightened the chairs, put away books and papers, and dusting a little here and there, leaving the regular dusting until later in the day. The windows were now shut, and the rooms looked very tidy, so she went to the dining-room to prepare that for breakfast. She brushed up the crumbs, aired the room, and put it in order. She arranged the doilies on the table, one under each plate, with a round of felt under that, laid the silver, put on her mother's tray with the cups and saucers, set the tumblers and napkins around, and the plates with the finger-bowls and fruit-knives, and the bread and butter plates with the spreaders. She filled the salts freshly, and last of all put on a vase of flowers. Then she took the cereal dishes, platter, and plates out to heat in the oven. She found her mother was getting ready the eggs and other things for breakfast, and she need not help, so she carried into the dining-room the butter balls and put them around; filled the finger-bowls and tumblers with cold water and the coffee-cups with hot; arranged the fruit on the sideboard, and put cream into the pitcher on the tray as well as in another pitcher for the cereal. By the time breakfast was ready she had on her white apron and had washed her hands, and when the family came down she was ready to show them all what a well-trained waitress she was. "Do sit down with us," her father begged. "You have done so much already!" But Margaret felt a little proud that she knew her waiting lesson so well, and said she would rather not. She really enjoyed moving very quietly around the table, bringing in and taking out things, passing everything to the left, and laying down plates at the right, and generally remembering just what she had been taught. After all had finished she ate her own breakfast, and found she had been up so long and worked so much that it tasted twice as good as usual. When she had finished she put on her gingham apron again and cleared the table. She took up the crumbs carefully and used the carpet-sweeper all over the rug. She scraped and piled the dishes in nice, neat piles, and, drawing the hot water, she washed and wiped them all nicely, and put them away. She swept the kitchen, wiped off the tables, shut up the range and washed out the dish-towels exactly as her grandmother had taught in the lesson she gave on the kitchen. Then she went up-stairs. Her grandmother, mother, and aunts had been afraid she would get too tired with such a long day's work as she had planned to do, and they had made their own beds, but they left Margaret's room for her for fear she would be disappointed. She closed the windows first, and while the room warmed she made the bathroom neat, washed and wiped out the tub and scrubbed off the wash-stand. Her room was put in beautiful order, to her closet and shoe-bag, and she even stopped to put a clean cover on the bureau and dust nicely, to show she had not forgotten a single thing. The halls and parlors had to be thoroughly dusted now, but as none of them needed sweeping it did not take very long, and there was still time to go to market. She got out her jacket and hat, took her pencil, account-book, and kitchen pad, and went out to see what was in the refrigerator. Here she had to stop, for Bridget had gone away in such a hurry she had quite forgotten to wash this out and arrange it properly, so on went the gingham apron again, and out came all the things from the box. She gave it a good scrubbing with warm water and borax, and put in a fresh dish of charcoal before she put back the ice and dishes of food. Then she got her pad again, and with her mother's help, planned the meals and wrote down what she must buy. The walk to the grocery and meat market was pleasant, and Margaret quite enjoyed ordering the vegetables, chops, fruit, and fish, which were needed, and watched to see if she was getting fresh things and good measure, and wrote down the prices as though she had been an old housekeeper instead of a new one. When she got back again she found there was an hour until lunch, and she at once wiped off the shelves in the pantry and put fresh papers on them and arranged the tins in a more orderly way than she found them. By the time she had finished her Pretty Aunt came out to help get luncheon, and together they laid the table and got the meal. She put on her waiting-apron again, when it was ready, but this time she sat down with the family because her mother said she must surely be tired. Her grandmother insisted on helping with the dishes, and watched with pride when afterwards Margaret poured boiling water down the sink after laying a bit of washing-soda over the drain, and scrubbed off all her tables until they shone, and blacked her range until it was like a mirror. "You surely are going to make a wonderful housekeeper!" she said. Margaret laughed as she took off her apron. "But I just _love_ to do things, grandmother," she replied, as she went up-stairs. Bridget always found that she had an hour or two to rest in the afternoon after her work was done, and so did the little girl, but after she had taken a walk and read in a new book for a time, she suddenly remembered that the silver needed cleaning, and she might surprise the family at dinner with it all polished. She got it out and rubbed it well, delighted to see how quickly it grew bright. As she finished her mother came into the kitchen with her Other Aunt, and said they meant to help get the dinner. The mother looked around her. "Everything is very nice," she said. "The sink is clean, and so is the pantry, and so are all the dishes. The range is bright; the dish-towels are washed; the dining-room is in order. I noticed as I came through the other rooms that the bedrooms, bathroom, and parlors have all been looked after to-day, too. Margaret, I do believe you are as good a housekeeper as I am already." "Well," said the little girl, thoughtfully, "I didn't sweep any to-day, nor wash any windows; I didn't shine the faucets in the bathroom, either, because I forgot them till this minute. I didn't have time to oil the floors in the hall this morning-- I only brushed it up; and I haven't looked at the cellar or the attic at all." Her mother laughed. "But nobody does the whole house from top to bottom every single day," she said. "We sweep twice a week, only, and we wash windows when they need washing, not all the time. The attic and cellar are to be kept in order, but not put in order daily, you know. The really good housekeeper does a little putting to rights all the time, and every day she takes a certain part of the house and makes it clean, but she never tries to do more in one day than belongs to that one. To know how to keep a house nice is quite as necessary as to know how to make it so. The most important thing of all is knowing what you have learned to-day--to quietly go through the work, taking one thing after another, each in its turn, and to do all well, without hurry or worry. To be able to do this is to make housework pleasant." "Well," said Margaret, earnestly, "I like to keep house. When I am a woman I mean to have the nicest, cleanest house in all the world!" "Suppose you help me keep this one nice till then!" said her mother. THE END 
33748	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 33748-h.htm or 33748-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33748/33748-h/33748-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33748/33748-h.zip) THE KITCHEN ENCYCLOPEDIA You will find many helpful suggestions in this book; all of them are tried and practical Twelfth Edition Swift & Company, U. S. A. Copyright, 1911, by Swift & Company _Keep this book in your kitchen for ready reference_ The Truth about Oleomargarine Swift's Premium Oleomargarine is a sweet, pure, clean, food product made from rich cream and edible fats. It contains _every element of nutrition_ found in the best creamery butter. The process of manufacture is primitive in its simplicity, but modern in its cleanliness and purity. The butter fat in Swift's Premium Oleomargarine is microscopically and chemically _the same_ as in the best butter; the only difference is _in the way_ it is secured from the cow. Butter fat in butter is all obtained by churning. In Swift's Premium Oleomargarine from 1/3 to 1/2 obtained in that way, the remainder is pressed from the choicest fat of Government inspected animals. This pressed fat is called "Oleo" hence the name "Oleomargarine." Rich cream, fancy creamery butter, 'oleo' 'neutral,' vegetable oil and dairy salt are the _only_ ingredients of Premium Oleomargarine. 'Neutral' is pressed from leaf fat. It is odorless and tasteless. There is _no coloring matter_ added to Premium Oleomargarine, yet it is a tempting rich cream color. Each week day during the year 1911 there has been an average of more than 400 visitors through our Chicago Oleomargarine Factory. In addition to this daily inspection by the visiting public our factories are in complete charge of Government Inspectors. These men test the quality and character of materials, they see that the contents of every tierce of 'oleo' and 'neutral' received from the Refinery is from animals that have passed the rigid Government inspection. They see that everything about the factories is kept absolutely clean and sanitary. Read what a Government expert said about Oleomargarine: The late Prof. W. O. Atwater, director of the United States Government Agricultural Experiment Station at Washington: "It contains essentially the same ingredients as natural butter from cow's milk. It is perfectly wholesome and healthy and has a high nutritious value." Order a carton of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine today to try it. You will find that it is a delicious, wholesome food product that you can use in your home and effect a great saving, still maintaining your standard of good living. We particularly invite you to visit our factories and see for yourself the cleanliness surrounding this interesting industry. {Footer: Did you know that Swift's Premium Oleomargarine contains essentially the same ingredients as natural butter from cows milk?} Recipes You can make exactly as good cakes, pies, cookies, and candies by substituting for the butter named in your recipes 3/4 the quantity of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine. On this and the following pages are a few recipes in which this substitution has been made. Try them. You will find them good and more economical than when made with butter. You may have some favorite recipes that are too expensive on account of the large amount of butter required. You can reduce their cost by using Swift's Premium Oleomargarine. Loaf Fig Cake Light Part 1/2 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1/2 cupful sweet milk 1-1/2 teaspoonfuls baking-powder 1 cupful sugar 1-1/2 cupfuls flour 1 teaspoonful vanilla Whites of 4 eggs Cream the oleomargarine and sugar. Add the milk, with which the vanilla has been mixed. Sift the baking-powder with the flour and add gradually. Add the whites, well beaten, last. Dark Part 1/2 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 3/4 cupful milk 1-1/2 teaspoonfuls baking-powder Yolks of 4 eggs 1/2 pound of raisins 1-1/2 cupfuls sugar 3 cupfuls flour 1 dessertspoonful each of cinnamon, cloves, allspice, and nutmeg 1 pound of figs Cream the oleomargarine and sugar. Add the egg-yolks, well beaten, then the milk. Sift the baking-powder and spices with the flour and add gradually. The raisins should be seeded and dredged with flour, and the figs should be cut in small pieces and dredged with flour and added to the batter the last thing. Put in the pan alternate layers of each part and bake in a loaf. {Footer: The Italian uses olive oil; the Swiss, butter from goat's milk; and the thrifty American housewife, Swift's Premium Oleomargarine.} Sugar Cookies 1 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 cupful sour milk 1 teaspoonful soda 2 cupfuls sugar 3 eggs, well beaten Flavoring to taste Flour enough to roll out thin Cream the oleomargarine and sugar. Add the eggs, whites and yolks beaten together. Dissolve the soda in the sour milk. Add this and then the flour. Roll out thin. Just before cutting out the cookies sift granulated sugar on top and roll it in slightly, then cut out cookies with cookie-cutter and bake in a moderate oven. Lemon Pie 1 cupful sugar 2 tablespoonfuls flour Yolks of three eggs 1 cupful water Juice and grated rind of 1 lemon A lump of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine the size of an egg Put all together in an oatmeal cooker and cook over hot water until thick. Take from the fire and cool a little. Line a deep pie-plate with crust, pour in the lemon mixture, and bake in a moderate oven until the crust is done. Remove from the oven and have ready the whites of the three eggs, beaten up stiff, with three level tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar; spread this meringue smoothly over the pie, return to the oven, and bake a light brown. Cornbread 1/4 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 cupful sweet milk 1 cupful cornmeal 1/4 cupful sugar 1 cupful flour 2 teaspoonfuls baking-powder 2 eggs Sift together meal, flour, baking-powder, and sugar. To this add in order the milk, the egg-yolks well beaten, the oleomargarine melted and lastly the well-beaten whites of the eggs. Bake in a hot oven for thirty to thirty-five minutes. This is particularly delicious if just before it is done half a cupful of cream is poured over the top. {Footer: Have you tasted Swift's Premium Oleomargarine?} Oatmeal Crackers 3/4 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 2 cupfuls rolled oats 1/2 cupful milk 1/2 teaspoonful soda 1-1/2 cupfuls raisins chopped fine 2 cupfuls flour 1 cupful sugar 1 teaspoonful cinnamon 3 eggs A pinch of salt Cream oleomargarine and sugar. Add egg-yolks well beaten. Dissolve soda in milk and add next. Mix oats, flour, salt, and cinnamon together well and add. Add the raisins last. Beat well and drop with a spoon on to buttered tins and bake in moderate oven. English Walnut Pudding 1/2 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 egg 1 cupful boiling water 1 teaspoonful cinnamon 1/2 cupful walnuts 1 cupful molasses 1 teaspoonful soda 3 cupfuls flour 1/2 teaspoonful cloves 1/2 cupful raisins Beat the egg white and yolk together and add it to the molasses. Dissolve the soda in the boiling water and add that next. Mix flour, cinnamon, and cloves together and add gradually. Add the butterine melted. Lastly add the raisins. Steam two and a half hours. Serve warm with sauce made of one cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine stirred until smooth with one cupful powdered sugar. Add one egg, flavor to taste, and beat until smooth. Penoche 1/4 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1-1/2 cupfuls rich milk 3 cupfuls light-brown sugar 1 cupful chopped walnuts Stir together the oleomargarine, milk, and sugar, and cook until it can be picked up when dropped in cold water. Beat until it thickens and add the walnuts slightly salted. Pour in buttered tins and cut in squares. {Footer: Ask your grocer for a carton of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine.} Butter Scotch 3/4 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 cupful molasses 2 cupfuls sugar 1/3 cupful vinegar Put all together and cook, stirring all the time. Cook until brittle when dropped in cold water. Pour into buttered tins and mark for breaking before it is cold. Ginger Bread 1/2 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 cupful molasses 1 teaspoonful ginger 1 teaspoonful cloves 1 teaspoonful cinnamon 1/8 teaspoonful nutmeg 1 egg, beaten light 1/2 cupful sugar 1 cupful sour milk 1 teaspoonful baking soda 2 cupfuls flour Mix into a light dough and bake in a flat pan. Quick oven. Cookies 1-1/2 cupfuls sugar 3/4 cupful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 cupful sour cream 3 eggs 1/2 teaspoonful soda 1 teaspoonful nutmeg 1 teaspoonful vanilla 1 teaspoonful almond Mix with flour enough to roll thin, and bake in a quick oven. {Footer: Would you like to reduce your butter bill? Then use Swift's Premium Oleomargarine.} On Baking-Day When you wish a fine-grained cake, beat the whites of the eggs to a stiff foam with a Dover egg-beater. If something spongy, such as an angel cake, is desired, use a wire egg-beater, which makes a more air-inflated foam. Recipes in the older, much-prized cook-books often call for a teacupful of yeast. A teacupful liquid yeast is equal to one cake of compressed yeast. To remove pecan meats whole, pour boiling water over nuts and let them stand until cold. Then stand the nut on end and crack with a hammer, striking the small end of the nut. If beef or mutton drippings are used in making a pie-crust, beat them to a cream with a teaspoonful of baking-powder and the juice of half a lemon. This effectually removes all taste. When a cake sticks to a pan, set it for a few minutes on a cloth wrung out of cold water. It will then come out in good shape. Heat the blade of the bread-knife before cutting a loaf of fresh bread. This prevents the usual breaking and crumbling of the slices. For cutting hot fudge, first dip the blade of the knife in boiling water. Nothing is better for pudding molds than jelly tumblers with light tin covers. One can readily tell when the puddings are done without removing the covers. The juice will not boil out of apple or berry pies if you dot bits of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine near the outer edge. A little salt in the oven under the baking-tins will prevent burning on the bottom. There is nothing more effective for removing the burned crust from cake or bread than a flat grater. It works evenly and leaves a smooth surface. Use a wooden potato masher for stirring butter and sugar together for a cake. It is much quicker than a spoon. {Footer: Swift's Premium Oleomargarine is sweet, pure, and clean.} Renovating Suggestions TO CLEAN A VELVET SUIT, sponge the spots with pure alcohol. Then suspend the suit on a hanger in the bathroom in such a way that the air can reach all sides of the garment. Turn on the hot water in the tub until the steam fills the room; shut the door and windows; shut off the water, and let the steam do its work for an hour. Then admit the air, but do not touch the garment until it is perfectly dry. TO REMOVE SHINE FROM WOOLEN GOODS, use gentle friction with emery paper. Rub just enough to raise the nap, and then rub it over with a piece of silk. TO MEND KID GLOVES, first buttonhole around the rent not so close as in a buttonhole; then overcast, taking up the thread of the buttonhole on the edge, and then draw together. TO CLEAN MEN'S COAT COLLARS, rub with a black stocking saturated with grain alcohol. This will remove the greasy look. TO FRESHEN A THIN DRESS, dissolve two teaspoonfuls of elastic starch in half a cupful of lukewarm water, and with a soft rag dampen on the right side, then with a hot iron press on the wrong side. TO CLEAN GREASE SPOTS FROM SILK, split a visiting card and rub the soft internal part on the spot on the wrong side of the silk. The spot will disappear without taking the gloss off the silk. TO MEND LACE CURTAINS, take a small piece of net, dip it and the curtains in hot starch, and apply the patch over the hole. The patch will adhere when dry, and the repair will show much less than if the curtains were mended. TO RENEW VEILS, dip them in gum-arabic water, and pin them out to dry as you would a lace curtain. When dry they will look like new. TO FRESHEN BLACK TAFFETA OR SATIN, sponge with a cupful of strong tea to which a little ammonia has been added. Then press on the wrong side over a damp cloth. TO REMOVE PERSPIRATION STAINS, lay the stain over clean white blotting-paper, and sponge with equal parts of alcohol and ether mixed. Rub dry, then touch lightly with household ammonia. If this leaves a blur, rub well with powdered French chalk on the wrong side. The blotting-paper prevents the fluids from forming a ring around the spot. House-Cleaning Hints and Helps TO CLEAN LINEN SHADES, lay them flat and rub with powdered bath-brick. TO CLEAN PIANO KEYS, rub with muslin dipped in alcohol. If the keys are very yellow, use a piece of flannel moistened with cologne water. TO CLEAN BOOKS with delicate bindings, which are soiled from handling, rub with chamois skin dipped in powdered pumice stone. TO RESTORE STRAW MATTING which has become stained or faded, wash with a strong solution of soda water. Use ordinary baking soda and plenty of Swift's Pride Soap and wash thoroughly, and when dry it will be found that the spots have all disappeared and the matting is all one color. TO CLEAN GLASS VASES, tea-leaves moistened with vinegar will remove the discoloration in glass vases caused by flowers, such as asters. TO CLEAN WINDOWS AND MIRRORS, rub them over with thin cold starch, let it dry on, and then wipe off with a soft cloth. This will clean the glass and also give it a brilliant polish. TO REMOVE PAINT from window glass, use strong hot vinegar. TO REMOVE WHITE SPOTS FROM FURNITURE, rub first with oil, and then with slightly diluted alcohol. TO REMOVE STAINS from an enameled saucepan, fill with water, add a little chloride of lime, and boil for a few minutes. TO CLEAN WILLOW-WARE, wash with salt water, using a brush. TO POLISH THE GLOBES of gas and electric-light fixtures, wash with water in which a few drops of ammonia have been dissolved. TO CLEAN TILING, wipe with a soft cloth wrung out in soapy water. Never scrub tiling, as scrubbing or the use of much water will eventually loosen the cement and dislodge the sections. TO BRIGHTEN NICKEL trimmings on a gas stove, wash with warm water, in which two tablespoonfuls of kerosene have been stirred. TO SAVE DUSTING, a piece of cheese cloth about two yards long placed on the floor in a freshly swept room will save much of the usual dusting. Laundry Helps A few cents' worth of powdered orris-root put in the wash water will impart a delicate odor to the clothes. Hot milk is better than hot water to remove fruit stains. To remove spots from gingham, wet with milk and cover with common salt. Leave for two hours, then rinse thoroughly. In washing white goods that have become yellow, put a few drops of turpentine into the water, then lay on the grass to dry in the strong sunshine. To make wash silk look like new, put a tablespoonful of wood alcohol to every quart of water when rinsing and iron while still damp. When washing, if the article is badly soiled, use a small scrubbing brush and scrub the goods over the washboard. To set green or blue, mauve or purple, soak the articles for at least ten minutes in alum water before washing them. Use an ounce of alum to a gallon of water. To set brown or tan color, soak for ten minutes in a solution made of a cupful of vinegar in a pail of water. Black goods and black-and-white goods need to be soaked in strong salt water, or to have a cupful of turpentine put into the wash water. Yellows, buffs, and tans are made much brighter by having a cupful of strong, strained coffee put in the rinsing water. When ironing fine pieces, instead of sprinkling afresh, take a piece of muslin, wring it out in cold water, and lay on the ironing board under the article; press with a warm iron; remove the wet piece and iron. When making starch for light clothes use Wool Soap in the water. This will give the clothes a glossy appearance and the irons will not stick. Badly scorched linen may be improved by using the following solution: Boil together well a pint of vinegar, an ounce of Wool Soap, four ounces of fuller's earth, and the juice of two onions. Spread this solution over the scorched spots on the linen and let it dry. Afterward wash the garment and the scorch will disappear. To keep the clothes-line from twisting, hold the ball of rope in one hand and wind with the other until a twist appears; then change ball to the other hand and the twist will disappear. Keep doing this, changing the rope from one hand to the other until the line is all wound up. About House Plants To make ferns grow better, place some thin pieces of raw beef close to the inside of the pot, between the pot and the soil. Old-fashioned portulaca makes a pretty low-growing green for a fern dish. To prevent plants from dropping their buds, give extra good drainage and systematic but moderate watering. An infallible wash for destroying the scaly insects that infest house plants is made as follows: Place half a bar of Swift's Pride Laundry Soap in a deep saucer and pour kerosene around it. Let this stand for about a week until the soap has absorbed the oil. Then make a strong lather of this soap and with it wash the plants. After which spray them with clear water until clean. To destroy aphis, shower foliage of infested plant on both sides with strong tobacco tea, or, if the plant be small enough, immerse it in this tea. Insects in the earth of a potted plant may be destroyed by pouring over the soil a glass of water in which a pinch of mustard has been stirred. If an asparagus fern turns yellow, repot it, giving it a strong loam enriched with one-fifth very old and finely crumbed manure and add a little coarse sand. Give the fern only an hour or two of sunlight each day. Water when it looks dry, but do not let it stand in any water that may have run through into the saucer. Before putting plants in a wooden window box whitewash the inside of the box. This not only keeps the box from rotting, but prevents insects. If sprays of growing nasturtiums are broken off in the late summer and placed in a bowl of water they will root and grow all winter. How to Use the Cheaper Cuts of Meat Much time has been given in the last few years to the study of foods, their necessary proportions, and the manner of cooking them. Educators and scientists have alike agreed that this knowledge ought to be disseminated. On the part of the public also there has been a general awakening in this regard. There has been a wide demand especially from those of limited incomes for information on the purchase and preparation of foods. To meet this demand books have been published and articles have appeared in the various women's papers giving directions for living at all sorts of prices, from the extremely low one, "How to Live on Ten Cents a Day," to the normal one which requires the preparation of appetizing and satisfying dinners at a nominal cost. In order to accomplish living comfortably at small cost it is evident that one must understand the comparative values of foods, so as to select those which at low prices furnish the necessary nourishment, and, also, be able to cook them in an appetizing way which will conserve the nourishment. Meat is a necessity to most people. Yet much of the present expense in the purchase of meat is needless and unwise. Many pieces of meat of the best quality are sold at low rates because not in shapes to be served as roasting or broiling pieces. These serve well for entrees or made-up dishes. Other pieces which are tough but well flavored can, in the hands of an educated cook, be sent to the table as tender, palatable, sightly and nutritious as the prime cuts. It is to show some methods of preparing these cheaper cuts of meat in an appetizing manner that the following explanation of the processes of cooking and the accompanying recipes are given. Meat is cooked, first, to aid digestion; secondly, to develop new flavors and render it more palatable. For cooking there are three essentials besides the material to be cooked--namely, heat, air, and moisture, the latter in the form of water, either found in the food or added to it. The combined effect of heat and moisture swells and bursts starch grains, hardens albumen, and softens fiber. Albumen is a substance like the white of an egg. It exists in the juices of meat and contains much nourishment. If allowed to escape, the nourishment is lost and the meat is hard. Therefore we have the first general rule for the cooking of meat, namely: _To retain the albumen, the outside of each piece of meat should be seared or sealed at once before the cooking is continued._ Albumen is coagulated and hardened by intense heat. Therefrom comes the second general rule, namely: _Intense heat hardens and toughens meat, while a soft moist heat softens the fiber._ From these general rules we pass to the specific methods of cooking meat, which are nine in number--broiling, roasting, baking, frying, sauteing, steaming, boiling, stewing, or fricasseeing. Broiling and roasting are practically the same, the chief difference being in the time employed. Both mean to expose one side of the meat to the fire while the other is exposed to the air. By this method the meat is quickly seared and the nutritive juices retained. Meat cooked in this way is richer and finer in flavor. Baking means cooking in a pan in the oven of a stove, and in these days of hurry has largely superseded roasting. Frying is the cooking by immersion in hot fat at a temperature of 350 degrees Fahrenheit. There must be sufficient fat to wholly cover each article. This method is employed for croquettes, oysters, etc., and is less injurious to digestion than sauteing. Sauteing is cooking in a small quantity of fat, as an omelet or hashed browned potatoes are cooked. This is the least wholesome of all methods of cooking meat, and is often held directly responsible for indigestion. Steaming is an admirable method of cooking tough meats or hams. Modern housewives use a "cooker," which comes for this purpose, but the old-fashioned perforated steamer over a kettle of boiling water is also good. Boiling is one of the simplest methods of cooking the cheaper cuts of meat. Properly employed, it consists in plunging the whole piece of meat in a large kettle of rapidly boiling water. The meat should be entirely covered by the water, which should continue to boil rapidly for five minutes after the meat has been immersed in it. The temperature of the water should then be immediately lowered to 160 degrees Fahrenheit. If one has not a cooking thermometer, one has only to remember that water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, and it will easily be seen that 160 degrees is considerably below the boiling point. Stewing or fricasseeing is really cooking slowly in a sauce after the meat has first been browned in a little hot fat. If the mixture is allowed to boil the meat will be tough and shriveled, but if properly stewed it will be soft and easy to digest. Fricasseeing is the most economical of all methods of cooking meat, as there is very little loss in weight, and what is lost from the meat is found in the sauce. Braising is a method much used in France, and is a cross between boiling and baking. It is done in a covered pan in the oven. The meat is first browned in a little hot fat and then placed in a pan which is partly filled with stock or water. The pan is covered closely and set in a hot oven. After ten minutes the temperature of the oven is reduced to a very low point, and the meat cooks slowly as the stock in the pan evaporates. This method is the best for inferior pieces which require long, slow cooking. It is an excellent method of cooking veal. Meat which is lacking in flavor can be flavored by adding vegetables or herbs to the stock in the pan. Different cuts of meat require different methods of cooking to bring about the best results. The following diagram and the accompanying suggestions for proper cuts for certain methods of cooking are those given by a prominent teacher in one of the leading domestic science schools in the United States. [Illustration: 1. Chuck 2. Ribs 3. Loin 4. Rump 5. Round 6. Hind Shank 7. Flank 8. Navel End 9. Clod 10. Fore Shank 11. Brisket.] The Practical Value and Use of Fireless Cookers _The object of the following article is to present in simple and convenient form the history of the growth of fireless cooking and its advantages over the ordinary methods, so that those women who have had no experience in the management of fireless cookers may be encouraged to try them, and those adventurous women who experimented with the earlier cookers and met with disappointment may be induced to try again._ _Such eminent authorities as Linda Hull Larned, author of a series of cook-books; Margaret J. Mitchell, Instructor of Domestic Science at Drexel, Pa., and formerly Dietitian of Manhattan Institute State Hospital, N. Y.; Mrs. Runyon, manager of the lunchroom in the Boston Chamber of Commerce; and Miss Armstrong, director of the Drexel Institute lunchroom--all advocate the use of fireless cookers, and unite in the assertion that it has invariably been found that a good understanding of their management has resulted in success followed inevitably by enthusiasm._ The Practical Value and Use of Fireless Cookers This twentieth century is the age of progress in many directions, but most of all in Domestic Science. Never before has so much attention been devoted to the home. Journalists are giving columns of space to this topic. Churches are directing their efforts to the betterment of the home. Women's Clubs and charitable organizations have taken up the study of the home. The most important result of all this action and thought is the widespread awakening to the fact that the social and moral standing of the home is directly dependent upon its hygienic and economic condition. In view of this fact, the National Federation of Women's Clubs has practically covered the United States with their County, State, and National Committees on Housekeeping. They know that bad cooking in the home means unsatisfied stomachs, to gratify whose cravings the saloons are filled; it means anemic children, a physical condition that tends to produce criminals; it means premature funerals. To remedy these evils, churches, journalists, philanthropists, clubs are alike working, and all are working along the same lines--that is, better home furnishings, better fuels, better utensils, more efficient, more economic, and less laborious methods of housekeeping. They have not only sought and introduced new inventions, but they have studied the past and adapted and bettered the old. Among the adaptations of the old ideas with new and modern improvements is the fireless cooker. Ages ago Norwegian and German peasant women, obliged to be away from the house all day working in the fields, knew the secret of bringing food to the boiling point and then continuing its cooking and keeping it hot by packing it in an improvised box of hay. In the evening when the women returned, weary and worn from their field labor, there was the family dinner all ready to serve. German club women were the first to see the value of this idea adapted to the needs of the German working class of the present day. These German club women revived the hay boxes and distributed numbers of them among poor families and began an educational campaign on their use. The American manufacturer, ever on the alert for ideas, was quick to perceive the economic and commercial advantages of making such an appliance in an up-to-date manner, and so to-day we have on the market numerous fireless cookers. The principle of fireless cooking, though it bears the difficult name of recaloration, is simple enough. It is merely the retention of heat through complete insulation, just as we retain cold in the ice-box by complete insulation. In the first case, a material which is a poor conductor of heat is interposed between the kettle of hot food and the surrounding atmosphere to prevent radiation or the escape of heat into the surrounding air. In the second case, a poor conductor of heat is placed between the ice and the warmer surrounding atmosphere to prevent the contact of the atmosphere with the ice and the consequent equalization of temperatures. A vacuum is an excellent non-conductor of heat and is employed in the Thermos bottles advertised for use on automobile trips, but a vacuum is expensive and difficult to obtain, which accounts for the high price of Thermos bottles. The effort has been to find some insulating agent within the means of the average housewife. This has now been done in the metal-lined cookers. The explanation of the cooking principle is equally simple. Ordinarily we heat food to a certain temperature, say, the boiling point, and then we leave it over the fire for some time, not to get hotter, that would be impossible, but to keep it at the same degree of heat, and to do this we must, on account of radiation into the surrounding atmosphere, keep on supplying heat. In the fireless cooker the heat once generated is conserved, and there is no need to add thereto. Herein lies the economy in fuel. You have only to burn gas long enough to bring the food to the boiling point, and the fireless cooker does the rest. You can put dinner on to cook, and go to work, to the theatre, to visit a friend, or read, or sew, without giving your meal any further attention till time to serve it. This sounds like a fairy tale, but it is absolutely true. By the fireless cooker you save nine-tenths of the fuel, and ninety-nine hundredths of your temper, your time, and your labor. You do not become perspiring and cross in a hot kitchen. You do not have scorched pots and kettles to scrape and scour and wash. Another point in favor of fireless cooking is that it is attended by absolutely no odors. Such vegetables as onions and cabbage can be cooked without any one's suspecting they are in the house. The economy in using the fireless cooker is not confined solely to a saving in gas and labor. There is also an actual and great economy in food, for there is almost no waste in this method of cooking. Take for example a 5-pound piece of beef from the round. Put this in the kettle of the fireless cooker with a pint of water for each pound of meat. Heat it on the gas range slowly, taking about twenty minutes to bring it to the boiling point. Then, according to directions, place it in the fireless cooker and finish the cooking. When it is done and tender, it will be found that there is only a minute loss in weight; to be exact, 2 ounces for 5 pounds. You bought 5 pounds of meat and have to serve on your table 4 pounds and 14 ounces. You could not make any such showing if you had cooked the meat on a gas or coal range. Four pounds and 14 ounces, however, is not all that you have to serve. You originally added to your meat 5 pints of water. A little of this evaporated or cooked away in the twenty minutes primary cooking on the stove. All the rest is retained, for there is absolutely no evaporation in a fireless cooker. This water has added to it the nutritive value and flavor acquired from the meat. So besides your 4 pounds and 14 ounces of meat you have over 4 pints of rich soup stock which has cost you absolutely nothing, as it is a by-product of the system of fireless cooking. "But," objects some one, "the meat cooked in such wise will have lost all its juice and flavor." On the contrary, there is a distinct gain in the matter of flavor in fireless cookery. We absolutely know this to be so, for we have had various cuts of meat, especially the cheaper cuts, cooked in a fireless cooker and the dishes so prepared have been submitted to competent judges; the opinion was unanimous that there was a real difference between the flavor of meats so cooked and that of corresponding cuts cooked after the usual methods, and that the delicacy and richness of flavor lay with those meats cooked by the fireless method. When one understands the principles of cookery this richness of flavor of meats cooked by the fireless method is not surprising. Every one knows the proverbial deliciousness of French cookery. The special peculiarity of the French cuisine is the long, slow simmering of meats in closely covered earthen pots called casseroles. The principle is essentially that of the fireless cooker, but the casserole not being insulated, the French cook is obliged to keep on supplying a sufficient degree of heat to keep the casserole warm and its contents simmering. Examples of fireless cooking with which many persons are familiar by experience or hearsay are the foods cooked in primitive ways, whose deliciousness is generally ascribed to the "hunger sauce" that accompanies outdoor cookery. Among such examples are the burying of the saucepan in a hole in the ground, the cooking of food by dropping heated stones into the mixture, and the clambake known among the Narragansett Indians. In all these cases we have the principle of the fireless cooker--_i. e._, closely-covered food slowly cooked at low temperature. Indeed, one fireless cooker is constructed directly on the principle employed in the New England clambake, and every one knows the deliciousness of food so cooked has become proverbial. By the fireless cooker the cheaper cuts of meat can be cooked so that they are delicious, appetizing, tender. There is here a distinct saving in money, for by the employment of the fireless method of cooking, the cheaper cuts of meat can be made to serve all the purposes of the higher-priced pieces. Further, if the meats are stewed, boiled, or steamed, you also acquire at no cost whatever as many pints of delicious soup stock, less one, as you have pounds of meat. Let us now recapitulate the advantages of fireless cooking:-- A Fireless Cooker Saves Money 1. Because by its use cheaper meats can be made to answer as well as higher-priced cuts. 2. Because out of a given quantity of raw material you get, after the cooking is done, more actual food than by any other method. A Fireless Cooker Saves Fuel You have only to burn your gas twenty minutes for a 5-pound piece of meat for fireless cooking, whereas by the usual method you would burn the gas two to four hours, according to the way you desired the meat cooked. A Fireless Cooker Saves Time Because you have only to watch the meat until it boils. By the usual method you must attend to it all the hours it is on cooking. A Fireless Cooker Saves Irritation and Worry For by this method of cooking the housewife knows that the food cannot burn or overcook. A Fireless Cooker Adds to the Intellectual Expansion and the Pleasures of the Family Because it gives the mother time from her kitchen to oversee the development of her children, and to share with them and their father their pleasures and interests. To the Wage-earning Woman the fireless cooker is a positive godsend. She can put food into the cooker before going to work, and return to find her meal all ready. If the Housewife Lives in the City and has to serve dinner at night all the preliminary cooking can be done at noon, and the meal placed in the fireless cooker till evening. To the Bachelor Girl who lives by means of a kitchenette, and must do her cooking in what is at once parlor, bedroom and kitchen, what a blessing is the absence of heat and odors that the fireless cooker assures. In Conclusion we quote from a bulletin published by the University of Illinois, in which a study is made of the methods of roasting and cooking meats. The authors found that there was no advantage in cooking meat in a very hot oven (385 degrees Fahrenheit), but rather a difficulty to keep it from burning; that in an oven which was about 350 degrees Fahrenheit the meat cooked better; and that in an Aladdin oven, which kept the meat at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, it cooked best of all--that is, it was of more uniform character all through, more juicy and more highly flavored. These findings point to an advantage in fireless cooking, and Miss Mitchell asserts that practical experience bears it out. With regard to meats cooked in water in the cooker, Miss Mitchell asserts that experience has shown that they become well done and are more tender than when boiled, showing that the temperatures necessary to reach that degree of cooking are obtained even in the center of a large piece of meat, without toughening or hardening the outside of the meat, as is done when more intense heat is applied. Recipes The following recipes are for the cheaper cuts of meat exclusively, and employ one or another of the preceding methods. Note that in all the recipes the two general rules for tender and juicy meat are observed. The outside of the meat is first quickly seared over to prevent the escape of the juices, and after the first five minutes the heat is reduced so as not to harden the albumen. Boiled or fricasseed meats should cook slowly. If meat is boiled at a gallop the connective tissue is destroyed, the meat falls from the bones in strings, and is hard and leathery. For stews, meat en casserole, or in any fashion where water is used in the cooking, select the round (5), either upper or under. For boiling, the clod (9) or the round (5) or the extreme lower piece of (3). For rolled steak, mock fillet, steak à la Flamande, or beefsteak pie, the flank steak (7) is best. For cheap stews use (10). For beef à la mode, in a large family use a thick slice of the round (5), for a small family the clod (9). For soup, use the shin or leg. For beef tea, mince meat, and beef loaf, the neck is best. The chuck (1) is used only for roasting or baking, and is good value only for a large family. (2) and (3) are the standing ribs and carve to the best advantage. The aitch or pin bone (in 3) is a desirable roast for a large family. (3) is the loin, the choicest part of the animal. From it come the fillet or tenderloin, the sirloin, and the porterhouse steaks. (4) is the rump, from which come good steaks for broiling. Beef Cannelon with Tomato Sauce (One of the nicest and easiest of the cheap dishes) Use Flank Steak (7) 1 pound uncooked beef chopped fine 1 cupful cold boiled potatoes 1 teaspoonful salt 1 egg unbeaten 1/4 teaspoonful white pepper 1/2 cupful Swift's beef extract 1 tablespoonful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine Mix together beef, potatoes, salt, and pepper, and stir in egg last. Form into a roll 6 inches long. Roll this in a piece of white paper which has been oiled on both sides. Place in a baking-pan and add the beef extract and the oleomargarine. Bake half an hour, basting twice over the paper. {Footer: Swift's Premium Oleomargarine reduces the cost of good living.} To serve beef cannelon, remove the paper, place the roll on the platter, and pour over it Tomato Sauce 1 tablespoonful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 cupful strained tomatoes 1 teaspoonful onion juice 1 tablespoonful flour 1/4 teaspoonful white pepper 1 bay-leaf Add onion, bay leaf, salt and pepper to tomatoes. Rub the oleomargarine and flour together and place in inner kettle of oatmeal cooker, set over the fire, add the tomato, and stir until it boils. Then place the kettle over hot water in the lower half of the oatmeal cooker, and cook so for ten minutes, when it is ready to serve. Spanish Minced Beef in Meat Box (Very pretty and palatable) Use any of the cheaper cuts. The Filling 1 tablespoonful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 onion chopped fine 6 sweet peppers cut in strips 4 tomatoes peeled, cut in halves and seeds squeezed out 1/2 teaspoonful salt Make the filling first. Put the oleomargarine in upper half of an oatmeal kettle, add onion and peppers, and simmer gently for twenty minutes. Then add the tomato halves cut into three or four pieces each and cook twenty minutes longer. Then add salt and pepper and set over hot water in lower half of kettle to keep hot till wanted. Now make the Meat Box 2 pounds uncooked beef chopped fine 1 egg unbeaten 1 teaspoonful salt 1/4 teaspoonful pepper Work all well together. Form into a box whose sides are about an inch thick. Place this box on a piece of oiled paper in the bottom of a baking-pan and bake in a quick oven for thirty minutes, basting twice with melted oleomargarine. To serve, lift box carefully, and place on platter and pour the filling into the center, and send at once to the table. {Footer: Swift's Premium Oleomargarine is a delicious, wholesome spread for bread.} Beef à la Mode Use Clod (9) or Under Round (5) The day before the beef is to be served rub it all over with the following, well mixed together:-- 1/2 teaspoonful ground cloves 1 teaspoonful ground ginger 1/2 teaspoonful ground allspice 1/2 teaspoonful ground cinnamon 1/2 teaspoonful white pepper Then sprinkle the beef with about two tablespoonfuls vinegar and let stand overnight. Next day put in the bottom of the roasting pan:-- 1 cupful small white button onions (chopped onion will do) 1 cupful carrot cut in dice 1/2 teaspoonful celery-seed 1 bay-leaf 4 cupfuls Swift's beef extract or of stock 2 tablespoonfuls gelatine that has been soaked in cold water for half an hour Lay the meat on the vegetables in the pan, cover closely, and set in an exceedingly hot oven until the meat has browned a little; then reduce the temperature of the oven, and cook very slowly for four hours, basting frequently. Serve garnished with the vegetables. Make a brown sauce from the stock left in the pan. This is a very good way to prepare meat in warm weather, as the spices enable it to be kept well for over a week. It is excellent served cold with Creamed Horseradish Sauce 4 tablespoonfuls grated horseradish with the vinegar drained off 1/4 teaspoonful salt 6 tablespoonfuls thick cream Yolk of 1 egg Add the salt and egg-yolk to the horseradish and mix thoroughly; whip the cream stiff, and fold it in carefully and send at once to table. {Footer: Have you seen Swift's Premium Oleomargarine? Its appearance is appetizing.} Boiled Beef Use cuts from (1), (8), (9), (11) Put the trimmings and suet of the beef into a large kettle and try out the fat. Remove the cracklings or scraps and into the hot fat put the meat and turn quickly until it is red on all sides. Cover completely with boiling water and boil rapidly for five minutes, then turn down the gas or remove kettle to back of coal range so that the water cannot possibly boil again, and cook fifteen minutes to each pound of meat. One hour before it is done add one tablespoonful salt and one-quarter teaspoonful pepper. When done garnish with watercress, or boiled cabbage, or vegetables. The liquor in which the meat was boiled can be saved for soup, or made into brown sauce to serve with it. Left-over boiled beef may be served cold cut in thin slices, or made into croquettes, or into meat and potato roll, or into various warmed-over dishes. Steak en Casserole Use a Round Steak (5) 1 inch thick 2 pounds uncooked steak cut in pieces 2 inches square 1 cupful small white button onions 1 tablespoonful chopped parsley 1/2 cupful carrot cut in dice 1/2 cupful white turnip cut in dice 1/4 teaspoonful celery-seed 1 teaspoonful salt 1/4 teaspoonful white pepper 2 cupfuls Swift's beef extract or of stock boiling hot Cover the bottom of the casserole with a layer of the mixed vegetables. Put in an iron frying-pan over the fire to heat. When hot, rub over the bottom with a piece of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine. Lay in the pieces of steak and brown quickly on both sides. Remove them from the frying-pan and arrange on the vegetables in the casserole. Cover them with the remaining vegetables. Sprinkle over the celery-seed, salt, and pepper, and then pour the hot stock over all. Cover the dish and bake for one hour in a quick oven. Steak en Casserole should be sent to the table in the same dish in which it is cooked. The steak should be brown and tender, the vegetables slightly brown, and the stock nearly all absorbed. {Footer: Swift's Premium Oleomargarine is U. S. Government Inspected and Passed.} Beef Loaf Use cuts from Chuck (1) or the Round (5) 4 pounds uncooked meat chopped fine 2 cupfuls bread-crumbs 2 tablespoonfuls chopped parsley 1 level teaspoonful pepper 4 eggs unbeaten 1 large onion chopped fine 2 rounding teaspoonfuls salt Mix meat and onion. Add the dry ingredients next. Mix well, then add the eggs. Pack all down hard in a square bread-pan so the loaf will take the form of the pan. Bake for two hours in a moderately quick oven, basting every fifteen minutes with hot Swift's Beef Extract or hot stock. When done, set away in the pan until cold. To serve, turn out on a platter and cut in thin slices and serve with catsup or with cream horseradish sauce. Recipe for the latter is given under "Beef à la Mode." Little Beef Cakes Use any of the cheaper cuts 1 pound uncooked beef chopped fine 1 tablespoonful Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 tablespoonful flour 1/2 teaspoonful salt 1 tablespoonful grated onion 2 cupfuls beef extract or stock 1 teaspoonful kitchen bouquet 1/4 teaspoonful white pepper Shape the meat into little cakes. Put the oleomargarine in a frying-pan, and when hot lay in the cakes and brown quickly on both sides. Then remove the cakes. Into the oleomargarine left in the pan put the flour and brown. Then add the stock gradually, stirring all the time so there will be no lumps. When smooth add the seasonings. Then lay in the beef cakes, cover, and cook slowly for five minutes. Serve at once with the sauce poured over them. {Footer: Have you tried Swift's Premium Oleomargarine? It is worth trying.} Curry Balls Use any of the cheaper cuts 1 pound uncooked beef chopped fine 2 tablespoonfuls Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1 tablespoonful flour 1 level teaspoonful salt 1 teaspoonful curry-powder 1 onion chopped 1 cupful strained tomatoes 1/4 teaspoonful white pepper Make the meat into little balls. Put one tablespoon oleomargarine in frying-pan, and in it cook the onion slowly without browning it until the onion is soft. Then add the curry-powder and meat balls, and shake the pan over a quick fire for ten minutes. Put the second tablespoonful oleomargarine in another frying-pan, and when hot add to it the flour. Stir well, then add the salt, pepper and tomato. Let come to a boil and then pour over the meat balls. Cover and cook slowly for five minutes. Curry balls are nicest served with boiled rice. Smothered Beef with Corn Pudding Use any of the cheaper cuts 2 pounds uncooked beef chopped fine 1 level teaspoonful salt 2 tablespoonfuls Swift's Premium Oleomargarine 1/4 teaspoonful pepper This meat should be free from fat. Have ready an iron pan very hot. Put the chopped meat in it and set in a very hot oven for fifteen minutes, stirring it once or twice. Then add the oleomargarine, salt and pepper, and serve at once with Corn Pudding 1 can corn 1 cupful milk 1 level teaspoonful salt 1 teaspoonful baking-powder 1/4 teaspoonful white pepper 3 eggs 1-3/4 cupfuls flour Mix corn with milk, salt and pepper. Add the yolks, well beaten. Sift the flour with the baking-powder and add it gradually. Lastly, fold in the well-beaten whites of the eggs. Bake in a quick oven for thirty minutes. {Footer: The high price of butter has no terror for users of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine.} Beefsteak Pie Use the Flank Steak (7) or Round (5) 2 pounds uncooked meat cut in inch cubes 1 cupful flour 1 tablespoonful parsley chopped fine 1/4 pound suet freed of membrane and chopped fine 1 onion chopped fine 1 cupful Swift's beef extract or stock boiling hot 1 teaspoonful salt 1/4 teaspoonful pepper Put meat in deep pudding-dish and sprinkle over it parsley, onion, salt and pepper. To the suet add the flour, a pinch of salt, and sufficient ice water to moisten, but not to make wet. Knead a little until it can be rolled out in a crust large enough to cover the top of the pudding-dish. Pour the boiling stock over the meat. Spread the crust over it and cut a slit in the top. Brush over with milk and bake in a moderate oven one and a quarter hours. Serve in same dish with a napkin folded around it. Braised Beef Use inch thick slice from Under Round (5) 1/2 cupful onion chopped 1/2 cupful carrot cut in dice 1/2 cupful turnip cut in dice 1/2 cupful celery cut in 1/2-inch lengths 1 stem parsley 6 peppercorns 3 cloves 1 bay-leaf 1 teaspoonful salt 4 cupfuls Swift's beef extract Rub the slice of meat with flour. Have ready bacon or pork fat very hot in frying-pan. Lay in the meat and brown quickly on both sides. Spread the seasonings and vegetables over the bottom of a baking-pan. Lay the browned meat upon them; add the Swift's beef extract; cover, and bake three hours in very slow oven, basting every fifteen minutes. To serve, lay meat in center of the platter. Place vegetables around it. Make a brown sauce with the liquor left in pan and pour over the vegetables. {Footer: Use Swift's Premium Oleomargarine on your table and for cooking.} Brown Beef Stew with Dumplings Use Bony End Shoulder (10) or Veiny Piece (lower 3) 2 pounds uncooked beef cut in inch cubes 2 tablespoonfuls flour 1 teaspoonful kitchen bouquet 1 small carrot cut in dice 1/4 teaspoonful pepper 1 teaspoonful salt 2 ounces of suet 2 cupfuls Swift's Beef Extract or of stock 1 onion 1 bay-leaf Roll the meat cubes in one tablespoonful of the flour. Put suet in frying-pan and shake over fire until melted. Remove the crackling, put in the meat cubes and turn till they are slightly browned on all sides. Remove the meat. Into the fat in the pan stir the second tablespoonful of flour; mix and add gradually the stock, stirring all the while so there will be no lumps. When smooth, return the meat to the pan, add the vegetables and seasonings. Cover the pan, draw to the back of the coal range, or reduce the flame of the gas so that the stew will not boil, and let it simmer for one and one-half hours. Ten minutes before serving make the Dumplings 2 cupfuls flour 1 rounding teaspoonful baking-powder 1/2 level teaspoonful salt 2/3 cupful milk Sift flour, baking-powder, and salt together. Add the milk. Take to fire and drop the mixture by spoonfuls all over the stew. Cover and cook slowly for ten minutes without once removing the cover. To serve, lift the dumplings carefully and lay around the edge of the platter; place stew in the center, and over it pour the sauce. {Footer: Wherever butter is specified in a recipe use a slightly smaller quantity of Swift's Premium Oleomargarine, it costs less and is just as good.} Timetable for Baking Beans (if prepared by soaking and boiling), 3 to 4 hrs. Beef sirloin or rib, rare, weight 5 pounds, 1 hr. 5 min. Beef sirloin or rib, well done, weight 5 pounds, 1 hr. 40 min. Beef rump, rare, weight 10 pounds, 1 hr. 35 min. Biscuit raised, 12 to 20 min. Biscuits, baking-powder, 12 to 15 min. Bread, white loaf, 45 to 60 min. Bread, graham loaf, 35 to 45 min. Cake, layer, 15 to 25 min. Cake, loaf, 40 to 60 min. Cake, sponge, 45 to 60 min. Chicken, 3 to 4 pounds, 1-1/2 to 2 hrs. Cookies, 6 to 10 min. Custard (baked in cups), 20 to 25 min. Duck, domestic, 1 to 1-1/2 hrs. Duck, wild, 20 to 30 min. Fish, thick, 3 to 4 pounds, 45 to 60 min. Fish, small, 20 to 30 min. Gingerbread, 25 to 35 min. Lamb leg, well done, 1-1/2 to 2 hrs. Mutton, 1-1/2 to 2 hrs. Pork, well done, 4 pounds, 2 hrs. Potatoes, 35 to 50 min. Puddings, rice, bread, 45 to 60 min. Veal leg, well done, per pound, 20 min. Timetable for Boiling Asparagus, 20 to 30 min. Beans, shell, 1 to 1-1/2 hrs. Beans, string, 45 to 60 min. Beets, young, 45 to 60 min. Beets, old, 3 to 4 hrs. Brown bread, steamed, 3 hrs. Cabbage, 35 to 60 min. Carrots, 1 hr. Cauliflower, 20 to 30 min. Chickens, young, 3 to 4 pounds, 1 to 1-1/4 hrs. Corn, green, 15 min. Corned Beef, gentle simmering, 3 to 4 hrs. Eggs, soft cooked (in water which does not boil), 4 to 6 min. Eggs, hard cooked (in water which does not boil), 35 to 45 min. Ham, weight 12 to 14 pounds, 4 to 5 hrs. Onions, 45 to 60 min. Rice in fast boiling water, 20 min. Smoked tongue, 4 hrs. Timetable for Frying Bacon, 3 to 5 min. Fritters or doughnuts, 3 to 5 min. Croquettes, 3 to 5 min. Breaded chops, 10 to 20 min. Smelts, 3 to 5 min. Small fish, 1 to 4 min. Index PAGE Baking-Day Helps, 7 Beef à la Mode, 24 Beef Cannelon, 22 Beef Loaf, 26 Beefsteak Pie, 28 Boiled Beef, 25 Braised Beef, 28 Brown Beef Stew, 29 Butter Scotch, 6 Cookies, 6 Cornbread, 4 Corn Pudding, 27 Cream Horseradish Sauce, 24 Curry Balls, 27 Dumplings, 29 English Walnut Pudding, 5 Fireless Cooker, The Practical Value and Use of, 15-21 Ginger Bread, 6 House-Cleaning Hints, 9 House-Plant Suggestions, 11 How to Use the Cheaper Cuts of Meat, 12-14 Illustration showing Standard Cuts of Beef, 14 Laundry Helps, 10 Lemon Pie, 4 Little Beef Cakes, 26 Loaf Fig Cake, 3 Oatmeal Crackers, 5 Oleomargarine, Swift's Premium, Foot Notes Oleomargarine, The Truth About, 2 Penoche, 5 Renovating Suggestions, 8 Recipes, 3-6, 22-29 Smothered Beef with Corn Pudding, 27 Spanish Minced Beef, 23 Steak en Casserole, 25 Sugar Cookies, 4 Timetables (Baking, Boiling, Frying), 30 Tomato Sauce, 23 Truth about Oleomargarine, 2 [Illustration] THE SHIRLEY PRESS CHICAGO Transcriber's Note: Both "to-day" and "today" appear in the original text. This has not been changed. In the plain-text versions of this book, bolding and italics on page footers (shown as {Footer: text}) have not been represented. The following corrections have been made to the text: p. 11: "dopping" to "dropping" (dropping their buds) p. 21: "Fahrenheat" to "Fahrenheit" (at 212 degrees Fahrenheit) p. 22: "a la" to "à la" ("à la Flamande" and "à la mode") p. 29: missing close bracket added (Bony End Shoulder (10) or Veiny Piece) 
21829	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 21829-h.htm or 21829-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/1/8/2/21829/21829-h/21829-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/1/8/2/21829/21829-h.zip) Transcriber's note: Page numbers 10 and 370 were skipped in the original text; they are not missing. There were two pages 355 and 356 in the original; the two between page 354 and the first page 355 have been renumbered 354a and 345b and references to them in the text changed accordingly. Printer errors were corrected silently and hyphenation was made consistent, but variant spellings have been preserved. A TREATISE ON DOMESTIC ECONOMY, For the Use of Young Ladies at Home, and at School. by MISS CATHERINE E. BEECHER. Revised Edition, With Numerous Additions and Illustrative Engravings. New-York: Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff Street. 1845. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1842, by Thomas H. Webb, & Co., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. TO AMERICAN MOTHERS, whose intelligence and virtues have inspired admiration and respect, whose experience has furnished many valuable suggestions, in this work, whose approbation will be highly valued, and whose influence, in promoting the object aimed at, is respectfully solicited, this work is dedicated, by their friend and countrywoman, THE AUTHOR. PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. The author of this work was led to attempt it, by discovering, in her extensive travels, the deplorable sufferings of multitudes of young wives and mothers, from the combined influence of _poor health_, _poor domestics_, _and a defective domestic education_. The number of young women whose health is crushed, ere the first few years of married life are past, would seem incredible to one who has not investigated this subject, and it would be vain to attempt to depict the sorrow, discouragement, and distress experienced in most families where the wife and mother is a perpetual invalid. The writer became early convinced that this evil results mainly from the fact, that young girls, especially in the more wealthy classes, _are not trained for their profession_. In early life, they go through a course of school training which results in great debility of constitution, while, at the same time, their physical and domestic education is almost wholly neglected. Thus they enter on their most arduous and sacred duties so inexperienced and uninformed, and with so little muscular and nervous strength, that probably there is not _one chance in ten_, that young women of the present day, will pass through the first years of married life without such prostration of health and spirits as makes life a burden to themselves, and, it is to be feared, such as seriously interrupts the confidence and happiness of married life. The measure which, more than any other, would tend to remedy this evil, would be to place _domestic economy_ on an equality with the other sciences in female schools. This should be done because it _can_ be properly and systematically taught (not _practically_, but as a _science_), as much so as _political economy_ or _moral science_, or any other branch of study; because it embraces knowledge, which will be needed by young women at all times and in all places; because this science can never be _properly_ taught until it is made a branch of _study_; and because this method will secure a dignity and importance in the estimation of young girls, which can never be accorded while they perceive their teachers and parents practically attaching more value to every other department of science than this. When young ladies are taught the construction of their own bodies, and all the causes in domestic life which tend to weaken the constitution; when they are taught rightly to appreciate and learn the most convenient and economical modes of performing all family duties, and of employing time and money; and when they perceive the true estimate accorded to these things by teachers and friends, the grand cause of this evil will be removed. Women will be trained to secure, as of first importance, a strong and healthy constitution, and all those rules of thrift and economy that will make domestic duty easy and pleasant. To promote this object, the writer prepared this volume as a _text-book_ for female schools. It has been examined by the Massachusetts Board of Education, and been deemed worthy by them to be admitted as a part of the Massachusetts School Library. It has also been adopted as a text-book in some of our largest and most popular female schools, both at the East and West. The following, from the pen of Mr. George B. Emmerson, one of the most popular and successful teachers in our country, who has introduced this work as a text-book in his own school, will exhibit the opinion of one who has formed his judgment from experience in the use of the work: "It may be objected that such things cannot be taught by books. Why not? Why may not the structure of the human body, and the laws of health deduced therefrom, be as well taught as the laws of natural philosophy? Why are not the application of these laws to the management of infants and young children as important to a woman as the application of the rules of arithmetic to the extraction of the cube root? Why may not the properties of the atmosphere be explained, in reference to the proper ventilation of rooms, or exercise in the open air, as properly as to the burning of steel or sodium? Why is not the human skeleton as curious and interesting as the air-pump; and the action of the brain, as the action of a steam-engine? Why may not the healthiness of different kinds of food and drink, the proper modes of cooking, and the rules in reference to the modes and times of taking them, be discussed as properly as rules of grammar, or facts in history? Are not the principles that should regulate clothing, the rules of cleanliness, the advantages of early rising and domestic exercise, as readily communicated as the principles of mineralogy, or rules of syntax? Are not the rules of Jesus Christ, applied to refine _domestic manners_ and preserve a _good temper_, as important as the abstract principles of ethics, as taught by Paley, Wayland, or Jouffroy? May not the advantages of neatness, system, and order, be as well illustrated in showing how they contribute to the happiness of a family, as by showing how they add beauty to a copy-book, or a portfolio of drawings? Would not a teacher be as well employed in teaching the rules of economy, in regard to time and expenses, or in regard to dispensing charity, as in teaching double, or single entry in bookkeeping? Are not the principles that should guide in constructing a house, and in warming and ventilating it properly, as important to young girls as the principles of the Athenian Commonwealth, or the rules of Roman tactics? Is it not as important that children should be taught the dangers to the mental faculties, when over-excited on the one hand, or left unoccupied on the other, as to teach them the conflicting theories of political economy, or the speculations of metaphysicians? For ourselves, we have always found children, especially girls, peculiarly ready to listen to what they saw would prepare them for future duties. The truth, that education should be _a preparation for actual, real life_, has the greatest force with children. The constantly-recurring inquiry, 'What will be _the use_ of this study?' is always satisfied by showing, that it will prepare for any duty, relation, or office which, in the natural course of things, will be likely to come. "We think this book extremely well suited to be used as a text-book in schools for young ladies, and many chapters are well adapted for a reading book for children of both sexes." To this the writer would add the testimony of a lady who has used this work with several classes of young girls and young ladies. She remarked that she had never known a school-book that awakened more interest, and that some young girls would learn a lesson in this when they would study nothing else. She remarked, also, that when reciting the chapter on the construction of houses, they became greatly interested in inventing plans of their own, which gave an opportunity to the teacher to point out difficulties and defects. Had this part of domestic economy been taught in schools, our land would not be so defaced with awkward, misshapen, inconvenient, and, at the same time, needlessly expensive houses, as it now is. Although the writer was trained to the care of children, and to perform all branches of domestic duty, by some of the best of housekeepers, much in these pages is offered, not as the result of her own experience, but as what has obtained the approbation of some of the most judicious mothers and housekeepers in the nation. The articles on Physiology and Hygiene, and those on horticulture, were derived from standard works on these subjects, and are sanctioned by the highest authorities. _The American Housekeeper's Receipt Book_ is another work prepared by the author of the Domestic Economy, in connexion with several experienced housekeepers, and is designed for a supplement to this work. On pages 354a and 354b will be found the Preface and Analysis of that work, the two books being designed for a complete course of instructions on every department of Domestic Economy. The copyright interest in these two works is held by a board of gentlemen appointed for the purpose, who, after paying a moderate compensation to the author for the time and labour spent in preparing these works, will employ all the remainder paid over by the publishers, to aid in educating and locating such female teachers as wish to be employed in those portions of our country, which are most destitute of schools. The contract with the publisher provides that the publisher shall guaranty the sales and thus secure against any losses for bad debts, for which he shall receive five _per cent_. He shall charge twenty per cent. for commissions paid to retailers, and also the expenses of printing, paper, and binding, at the current market prices, and make no other charges. The net profits thus determined are then to be divided equally, the publishers taking one half, and paying the other half to the board above mentioned. CONTENTS. PREFACE, 7 CHAPTER I. PECULIAR RESPONSIBILITIES OF AMERICAN WOMEN. American Women should feel a peculiar Interest in Democratic Institutions. The Maxim of our Civil Institutions. Its Identity with the main Principle of Christianity. Relations involving Subordination; why they are needful. Examples. How these Relations are decided in a Democracy. What decides the Equity of any Law or Institution. The Principle of Aristocracy. The Tendency of Democracy in Respect to the Interests of Women. Illustrated in the United States. Testimony of De Tocqueville. Miss Martineau's Misrepresentations. In what Respects are Women subordinate? and why? Wherein are they equal or superior in Influence? and how are they placed by Courtesy? How can American Women rectify any real Disadvantages involved in our Civil Institutions? Opinion of De Tocqueville as to the Influence and Example of American Democracy. Responsibilities involved in this View, especially those of American Women, 25 CHAPTER II. DIFFICULTIES PECULIAR TO AMERICAN WOMEN. A Law of Moral Action to be noted. Its Application. Considerations to be borne in Mind, in appreciating peculiar Trials. Application to American Women. Difference between this and Aristocratic Countries. How this affects the Interests of American Women. Effect of Wealth, in this Country, on Domestic Service. Effects on the Domestic Comfort of Women. Second peculiar Trial of American Women. Extent of this Evil. The Writer's Observation on this Point. Effects on the Anticipations of Mothers and Daughters. Infrequency of Healthful Women in the Wealthy Classes. Causes which operate to undermine the Female Constitution. Excitement of Mind. Course of Intellectual Training. Taxation, in Domestic Life, of American Mothers and Housekeepers. Exercise and Fresh Air needful to balance Mental Excitement. Defect in American, compared with English, Customs, in this Respect. Difference in the Health and Youthfulness of Appearance between English and American Mothers. Liabilities of American Women to the uncommon Exposures of a New Country. Remarks of De Tocqueville and the Writer on this Point, 38 CHAPTER III. REMEDIES FOR THE PRECEDING DIFFICULTIES. First Remedy suggested. Obligations of Wealthy Ladies on this Point. How a Dearth of Domestics may prove a Blessing. Second Remedy. Domestic Economy should be taught in Schools. Third Remedy. Reasons for endowing Colleges and Professional Schools. Similar Reasons exist for endowing Female Institutions. Present Evils in conducting Female Education. A Sketch of a Model Female Institution. Accommodations provided. Mode of securing Exercise to Pupils. Objections to this answered. Calisthenics. Course of Intellectual Discipline adopted. Mode of Division of Labor adopted. Example of Illinois in Regard to Female Education. Economy of Health and Time secured by such Institutions. Plan suggested for the Early Education of Young Girls. Last Remedy suggested, 48 CHAPTER IV. ON DOMESTIC ECONOMY AS A BRANCH OF STUDY. Impediment to making Domestic Economy a Study at School. First Reason why it should be so made. State of Domestic Service precarious. Second Reason. Examples illustrating. Third Reason. Questions asked. First Objection; how answered. Next Objection; how answered. Next Objection; how answered. Last Reason, 63 CHAPTER V. ON THE CARE OF HEALTH. Importance of a Knowledge of the Laws of Health, and of the Human System, to Females. Construction of the Human Frame. BONES; their Structure, Design, and Use. Engraving and Description. Spinal Column. Engravings of Vertebræ. Exercise of the Bones. MUSCLES; their Constitution, Use, and Connection with the Bones. Engraving and Description. Operation of Muscles. NERVES; their Use. Spinal Column. Engravings and Descriptions. Distortions of the Spine. Engravings and Descriptions. BLOOD-VESSELS; their Object. Engravings and Descriptions. The Heart, and its Connection with the System. Engravings and Descriptions. ORGANS OF DIGESTION AND RESPIRATION. Engraving and Description. Process of Digestion. Circulation of the Blood. Process of Respiration. Necessity of Pure Air. THE SKIN. Process of Perspiration. Insensible Perspiration. Heat of the Body. Absorbents. Importance of frequent Ablutions and Change of Garments. Follicles of Oily Matter in the Skin. Nerves of Feeling, 68 CHAPTER VI. ON HEALTHFUL FOOD. Responsibility of a Housekeeper in Regard to Health and Food. The most fruitful Cause of Disease. Gastric Juice; how proportioned. Hunger the Natural Guide as to Quantity of Food. A Benevolent Provision; how perverted, and its Effects. A Morbid Appetite, how caused. Effects of too much Food in the Stomach. Duty of a Housekeeper in Reference to this. Proper Time for taking Food. Peristaltic Motion. Need of Rest to the Muscles of the Stomach. Time necessary between each Meal. Exceptions of hard Laborers and active Children. Exercise; its Effect on all parts of the Body. How it produces Hunger. What is to be done by those who have lost the Guidance of Hunger in regulating the Amount of Food. On Quality of Food. Difference as to Risk from bad Food, between Healthy Persons who exercise, and those of Delicate and Sedentary Habits. Stimulating Food; its Effects. Condiments needed only for Medicine, and to be avoided as Food. Difference between Animal and Vegetable Food. Opinion of some Medical Men. Medical Men agree as to the Excess of Animal Food in American Diet. Extracts from Medical Writers on this Point. Articles most easily digested. The most Unhealthful Articles result from bad cooking. Caution as to Mode of Eating. Reason why Mental and Bodily Exertions are injurious after a full Meal. Changes in Diet should be gradual; and why. Drink most needed at Breakfast; and why. Dinner should be the heartiest Meal; and why. Little Drink to be taken while eating; and why. Extremes of Heat or Cold; why injurious in Food. Fluids immediately absorbed from the Stomach. Why Soups are hard of Digestion. Case of Alexis St. Martin. Why highly-concentrated Nourishment is not good for Health. Beneficial Effects of using Unbolted Flour. Scarcity of Wheat under William Pitt's Administration, and its Effects. Causes of a Debilitated Constitution from the Misuse of Food, 94 CHAPTER VII. ON HEALTHFUL DRINKS. Responsibility of a Housekeeper in this Respect. Stimulating Drinks not required for the Perfection of the Human System. Therefore they are needless. First Evil in using them. Second Evil. Five Kinds of Stimulating Articles in Use in this Country. First Argument in Favor of Stimulants, and how answered. Second Argument; how answered. The Writer's View of the Effects of Tea and Coffee on American Females. Duty in Reference to Children. Black Tea the most harmless Stimulant. Warm Drinks not needful. Hot Drinks injurious. Effect of Hot Drinks on Teeth. Mexican Customs and their Effects illustrating this. Opinion of Dr. Combe on this subject. Difference between the Stimulus of Animal Food and the Stimulating Drinks used. Common Habit of Drinking freely of Cold Water debilitating. Persons taking but little Exercise require but little Drink, 106 CHAPTER VIII. ON CLOTHING. Calculations made from Bills of Mortality; and Inference from them. Causes of Infant Mortality. Of the Circulation in Infancy. Warm Dress for Infants; and why. Investigations in France, and Results. Dangers from the opposite Extreme. Effects of too much Clothing. Rule of Safety. Featherbeds; why unhealthy in Warm Weather. Best Nightgowns for Young Children. Clothing; how to be proportioned. Irrational Dress of Women. Use of Flannel next the Skin. Evils of Tight Dresses to Women. False Taste in our Prints of Fashions. Modes in which Tight Dresses operate to weaken the Constitution. Rule of Safety as to Looseness of Dress. Example of English Ladies in Appropriateness of Dress, 112 CHAPTER IX. ON CLEANLINESS. Importance of Cleanliness not realized, without a Knowledge of the Nature of the Skin. Foundation of the Maxim respecting the Healthfulness of Dirt. Office of the Skin. Other Organs which perform similar Duties. Amount of Matter daily exhaled by the Skin. Effect of a Chill upon the Skin, when perspiring. Illustration of this. Effect of closing the Pores of the Skin, with Dirt or other Matter. The Skin absorbs Matter into the Blood. Reasons for a Daily Ablution of the whole Body. Effects of Fresh Air on Clothing worn next the Skin. Americans compared with other Nations as to Care of the Skin. Cautions in Regard to a Use of the Bath. How to decide when Cold Bathing is useful. Warm Bath tends to prevent Colds; and why. When a Bath should be taken. Advantages of General Ablutions to Children. Care of the Teeth, 118 CHAPTER X. ON EARLY RISING. Universal Impression in Respect to this Practice. Why it should be regarded as American and Democratic. Practice in Aristocratic Circles in England. Appeal to American Women. First Consideration in Favor of Early Rising. Another Physiological Reason in its Favor. Another Reason. Time necessary for Sleep. Proper Hours for Rising and Retiring. Evils of protracted Sleep. Testimony of Sir John Sinclair. Another Reason for Early Rising. Responsibility of Parents for the Health and Industry of a Family. Effects of Early Rising on General Society, 122 CHAPTER XI. ON DOMESTIC EXERCISE. Causes which produce Delicacy and Decay of the Female Constitution. Want of Exercise. Neglect of the Laws of Health. Want of Pure Air. Objectionable Amusements. Sleeping by Day. Want of Exercise a greater Cause of these Evils, than all the Others combined. Importance of understanding the Influence of the Neglect or Abuse of the Muscular System. Nerves of Sensation and of Motion. Both need Exercise. Rules for Exercise. Importance of a Feeling of Interest in taking Exercise. Walks merely for Exercise. Exercise most proper for Young Girls. Exercise, more than any Thing else, imparts fresh Strength and Vitality to all Parts of the Body. Mistakes of Mothers and Teachers on this Subject. Effects of neglecting to use the Muscles; Effects of excessive Use of them. Effect of School Confinement and Seats. Extract from the Young Lady's Friend. Lady Montagu. Daughter of a French Nobleman, 128 CHAPTER XII. ON DOMESTIC MANNERS. What are Good-manners. Defect in American Manners. Coldness and Reserve of the Descendants of the Puritans accounted for. Cause of the Want of Courtesy in American Manners. Want of Discrimination. Difference of Principles regulating Aristocratic and Democratic Manners. Rules for regulating the Courtesies founded on Precedence of Age, Office, and Station, in a Democracy. Manners appropriate to Superiors and Subordinates. Miss Martineau's Remarks on the Universal Practice of Americans to give Precedence to Woman. Peculiar Defect of Americans in this Respect. This to be remedied in the Domestic Circle, alone. Rules of Precedence to be enforced in the Family. Manners and Tones towards Superiors to be regulated in the Family. Treatment of grown Brothers and Sisters by Young Children. Acknowledgement of Favors by Children to be required. Children to ask leave or apologize in certain Cases. Rules for avoiding Remarks that wound the Feelings of Others. Rules of Hospitality. Conventional Rules. Rules for Table Manners. Caution as to teaching these Rules to Children. Caution as to Allowances to be made for those deficient in Good-manners. Comparison of English and American Manners, by De Tocqueville. America may hope to excel all Nations in Refinement, Taste, and Good-breeding; and why. Effects of Wealth and Equalisation of Labor. Allusion to the Manners of Courts in the past Century, 136 CHAPTER XIII. ON THE PRESERVATION OF A GOOD TEMPER IN A HOUSEKEEPER. Influence of a Housekeeper on Domestic Happiness. Contrasts to illustrate. Sympathy. Influence of Tones. Allowances to be made for Housekeepers. Considerations to aid in regulating Temper and Tones. First; Her Duties to be regarded as Dignified, Important, and Difficult. Second; She should feel that she really has Great Difficulties to meet and overcome. Third; She should deliberately calculate upon having her Plans interfered with, and be prepared for the Emergency. Fourth; All her Plans should be formed consistently with the Means at Command. Fifth; System, Economy, and Neatness, only valuable when they tend to promote the Comfort and Well-being of the Family. Sixth; Government of Tones of Voice. Some Persons think Angry Tones needful. They mistake. Illustration. Scolding, Unlady-like, and in Bad Taste. A Forgiving Spirit necessary. Seventh and Last Consideration offered; Right View of a Superintending Providence. Fretfulness and Complaining sinful, 148 CHAPTER XIV. ON HABITS OF SYSTEM AND ORDER. Question of the Equality of the Sexes, frivolous and useless. Relative Importance and Difficulty of the Duties a Woman is called to perform. Her Duties not trivial. More difficult than those of the Queen of a great Nation. A Habit of System and Order necessary. Right Apportionment of Time, General Principles. Christianity to be the Foundation. Intellectual and Social Interests to be preferred to Gratification of Taste or Appetite. The Latter to be last in our Estimation. No Sacrifice of Health allowable. Neglect of Health a Sin in the Sight of God. Regular Season of Rest appointed by the Creator. Divisions of Time. Systematic Arrangement of House Articles and other Conveniences. Regular Employment for each Member of a Family. Children can be of great Service. Boys should be taught Family Work. Advantage to them in Afterlife. Older Children to take Care of Infants of a Family, 155 CHAPTER XV. ON GIVING IN CHARITY. No Point of Duty more difficult to fix by Rule, than Charity. First Consideration;--Object for which we are placed in this World. How to be perfectly happy. Self-denying Benevolence. Important Distinction. Second Consideration;--Natural Principles not to be exterminated, but regulated and controlled. All Constitutional Propensities good, and designed to be gratified. Their Abuses to be guarded against. Third Consideration;--Superfluities sometimes proper, and sometimes not. Fourth Consideration;--No Rule of Duty right for One and not for All. The Opposite of this Principle tested. Some Use of Superfluities necessary. Physical Gratifications should always be subordinate to Social, Intellectual, and Moral Advantages. Difficulties in the Way. Remarks upon them. Plan for Keeping an Account of Necessaries and Superfluities. Untoward Results of our Actions do not always prove that we deserve Blame. Examples of Conformity to the Rules here laid down. General Principles to guide in deciding upon Objects of Charity. Parable of Good Samaritan. Who are our Neighbors. Those most in Need to be first relieved. Intellectual and Moral Wants more necessary to be supplied than Physical. Not much Need of Charity in supplying Physical Wants in this Country. System of Associated Charities, in which many small Sums are combined. Indiscriminate Charity--Very injurious to Society, as a General Rule. Exceptions. Impropriety of judging of the Charities of Others, 167 CHAPTER XVI. ON ECONOMY OF TIME AND EXPENSES. _Economy of Time._ Value of Time. Right Apportionment of Time. Laws appointed by God for the Jews. Proportions of Property and Time the Jews were required to devote to Intellectual, Benevolent, and Religious Purposes. The Levites. The weekly Sabbath. The Sabbatical Year. Three sevenths of the Time of the Jews devoted to God's Service. Christianity removes the Restrictions laid on the Jews, but demands all our Time to be devoted to our own best Interests and the Good of our Fellow-men. Some Practical Good to be the Ultimate End of all our Pursuits. Enjoyment connected with the Performance of every Duty. Great Mistake of Mankind. A Final Account to be given of the Apportionment of our Time. Various Modes of economizing Time. System and Order. Uniting several Objects in one Employment. Employment of Odd Intervals of Time. We are bound to aid Others in economizing Time. _Economy in Expenses._ Necessity of Information on this Point. Contradictory Notions. General Principles in which all agree. Knowledge of Income and Expenses. Every One bound to do as much as she can to secure System and Order. Examples. Evils of Want of System and Forethought. Young Ladies should early learn to be systematic and economical. Articles of Dress and Furniture should be in Keeping with each other, and with the Circumstances of the Family. Mistaken Economy. Education of Daughters away from Home injudicious. Nice Sewing should be done at Home. Cheap Articles not always most economical. Buying by wholesale economical only in special cases. Penurious Savings made by getting the Poor to work cheap. Relative Obligations of the Poor and the Rich in Regard to Economy. Economy of Providence in the Unequal Distribution of Property. Carelessness of Expense not a Mark of Gentility. Beating down Prices improper in Wealthy People. Inconsistency in American would-be Fashionables, 180 CHAPTER XVII. ON HEALTH OF MIND. Intimate Connection between the Body and Mind. Brain excited by improper Stimulants taken into the Stomach. Mental Faculties then affected. Example of a Person having lost a Portion of his Skull. Causes of Mental Diseases. Want of Oxygenized Blood. Fresh Air absolutely necessary. Excessive Exercise of the Intellect or Feelings a Cause of Derangement. Such Attention to Religion, as prevents the Performance of other Duties, wrong. Teachers and Parents should look to this. Unusual Precocity in Children usually the Result of a Diseased Brain. Parents generally add Fuel to this Fever. Idiocy often the Result, or the Precocious Child sinks below the Average of Mankind. This Evil yet prevalent in Colleges and other Seminaries. A Medical Man necessary in every Seminary. Some Pupils always needing Restraint in Regard to Study. A Third Cause of Mental Disease, the Want of Appropriate Exercise of the Various Faculties of the Mind. Extract from Dr. Combe. Examples of Wealthy Ladies. Beneficial Results of active Intellectual Employments. Indications of a Diseased Mind, 195 CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE CARE OF DOMESTICS. No Subject on which American Women need more Wisdom, Patience, Principle, and Self-control. Its Difficulties. Necessary Evils. Miseries of Aristocratic Lands. Wisdom of Conforming to Actual Circumstances. How to judge correctly respecting Domestics. They should be treated as we would expect to be under similar Circumstances. When Labor is scarce, its Value is increased. Instability of Domestics; how it may be remedied. Pride and Insubordination; how remedied. Abhorrence of Servitude a National Trait of Character. Domestics easily convinced of the Appropriateness of different Degrees of Subordination. Example. Domestics may be easily induced to be respectful in their Deportment, and appropriate in their Dress. Deficiencies of Qualifications for the Performance of their Duties; how remedied. Forewarning, better than Chiding. Preventing, better than finding Fault. Faults should be pointed out in a Kind Manner. Some Employers think it their Office and Duty to find Fault. Domestics should be regarded with Sympathy and Forbearance, 204 CHAPTER XIX. ON THE CARE OF INFANTS. Necessity of a Knowledge of this Subject, to every Young Lady. Examples. Extracts from Doctors Combe, Bell, and Eberle. Half the Deaths of Infants owing to Mismanagement, and Errors in Diet. Errors of Parents and Nurses. Error of administering Medicines to Children, unnecessarily. Need of Fresh Air, Attention to Food, Cleanliness, Dress, and Bathing. Cholera Infantum not cured by Nostrums. Formation of Good Habits in Children, 213 CHAPTER XX. ON THE MANAGEMENT OF YOUNG CHILDREN. Physical Education of Children. Remark of Dr. Clark, and Opinion of other Medical Men. Many Popular Notions relating to Animal Food for Children, erroneous. The Formation of the Human Teeth and Stomach does not indicate that Man was designed to live on Flesh. Opinions of Linnæus and Cuvier. Stimulus of Animal Food not necessary to Full Developement of the Physical and Intellectual Powers. Examples. Of Laplanders, Kamtschatkadales, Scotch Highlanders, Siberian Exiles, Africans, Arabs. Popular Notion that Animal Food is more Nourishing than Vegetable. Different Opinions on this Subject. Experiments. Opinions of Dr. Combe and others. Examples of Men who lived to a great Age. Dr. Franklin's Testimony. Sir Isaac Newton and others. Albany Orphan Asylum. Deleterious Practice of allowing Children to eat at short Intervals. Intellectual Training. Schoolrooms. Moral Character. Submission, Self-denial, and Benevolence, the three most important Habits to be formed in Early Life. Extremes to be guarded against. Medium Course. Adults sometimes forget the Value which Children set on Trifles. Example. Impossible to govern Children, properly, without appreciating the Value they attach to their Pursuits and Enjoyments. Those who govern Children should join in their Sports. This the best way to gain their Confidence and Affection. But Older Persons should never lose the Attitude of Superiors. Unsteadiness in Government. Illustrations. Punishment from unsteady Governors, does little Good. Over-Government. Want of Patience and Self-control in Parents and Governors. Example of Parents more effectual than their Precepts. Formation of Habits of Self-denial in Early Life. Denying Ourselves to promote the Happiness of Others. Habits of Honesty and Veracity. Habits of Modesty. Delicacy studiously to be cherished. Licentious and Impure Books to be banished. Bulwer a Licentious Writer, and to be discountenanced, 220 CHAPTER XXI. ON THE CARE OF THE SICK. Women frequently called upon to direct in Cases of Indisposition. Extremes to be avoided. Grand Cause of most Diseases, Excess in Eating and Drinking. Fasting useful. Extracts from Doctors Burne and Combe. Necessity of a Woman's Understanding the Nature and Operation of Common Medicines. Simple Electuary. Discretion required. Useful Directions in Regard to Nursing the Sick. Fresh Air absolutely necessary. Frequent Ablutions important. Dressing a Blister. Arrangements to be made beforehand, when practicable. Importance of Cleanliness; Nothing more annoying to the Sick, than a want of it. Necessity of a proper Preparation of Food, for the Sick. Physicians' Directions to be well understood and implicitly followed. Kindness, Patience, and Sympathy, towards the Sick, important. Impositions of Apothecaries. Drugs to be locked up from the Access of Children, 234 CHAPTER XXII. ON ACCIDENTS AND ANTIDOTES. Medical Aid should be promptly resorted to. Suffocation, from Substances in the Throat. Common Cuts. Wounds of Arteries, and other severe Cuts. Bruises. Sprains. Broken Limbs. Falls. Blows on the Head. Burns. Drowning. Poisons:--Corrosive Sublimate; Arsenic, or Cobalt; Opium; Acids; Alkalies. Stupefaction from Fumes of Charcoal, or from entering a Well, Limekiln, or Coalmine. Hemorrhage of the Lungs, Stomach, or Throat. Bleeding of the Nose. Dangers from Lightning, 240 CHAPTER XXIII. ON DOMESTIC AMUSEMENTS AND SOCIAL DUTIES. Indefiniteness of Opinion on this Subject. Every Person needs some Recreation. General Rules. How much Time to be given. What Amusements proper. Those should always be avoided, which cause Pain, or injure the Health, or endanger Life, or interfere with important Duties, or are pernicious in their Tendency. Horse-racing, Circus-riding, Theatres, and Gambling. Dancing, as now conducted, does not conduce to Health of Body or Mind, but the contrary. Dancing in the Open Air beneficial. Social Benefits of Dancing considered. Ease and Grace of Manners better secured by a System of Calisthenics. The Writer's Experience. Balls going out of Fashion, among the more refined Circles. Novel-reading. Necessity for Discrimination. Young Persons should be guarded from Novels. Proper Amusements for Young Persons. Cultivation of Flowers and Fruits. Benefits of the Practice. Music. Children enjoy it. Collections of Shells, Plants, Minerals, &c. Children's Games and Sports. Parents should join in them. Mechanical Skill of Children to be encouraged. Other Enjoyments. Social Enjoyments not always considered in the List of Duties. Main Object of Life to form Character. Family Friendship should be preserved. Plan adopted by Families of the Writer's Acquaintance. Kindness to Strangers. Hospitality. Change of Character of Communities in Relation to Hospitality. Hospitality should be prompt. Strangers should be made to feel at their Ease, 244 CHAPTER XXIV. ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. Importance to Family Comfort of well-constructed Houses. Rules for constructing them. Economy of Labor. Large Houses. Arrangement of Rooms. Wells and Cisterns. Economy of Money. Shape and Arrangement of Houses. Porticoes, Piazzas, and other Ornaments. Simplicity to be preferred. Fireplaces. Economy of Health. Outdoor Conveniences. Doors and Windows. Ventilation. Economy of Comfort. Domestics. Spare Chambers. Good Taste. Proportions. Color and Ornaments. _Plans of Houses and Domestic Conveniences._ Receipts for Whitewash, 258 CHAPTER XXV. ON FIRES AND LIGHTS. Wood Fires. Construction of Fireplaces. Firesets. Building a Fire. Wood. Cautions. Stoves and Grates. Cautions. Stovepipes. Anthracite Coal. Bituminous Coal. Proper Grates. Coal Stoves. _On Lights._ Lamps. Oil. Candles. Lard. Pearlash and Water for cleansing Lamps. Care of Lamps. Difficulty. Articles needed in trimming Lamps. Astral Lamps. Wicks. Dipping Wicks in Vinegar. Shades. Weak Eyes. Entry Lamps. Night Lamps. Tapers. Wax Tapers for Use in Sealing Letters. To make Candles. Moulds. Dipped Candles. Rush Lights, 280 CHAPTER XXVI. ON WASHING. All needful Accommodations should be provided. Plenty of Water, easily accessible, necessary. Articles to be provided for Washing. Substitutes for Soft Water. Common Mode of Washing. Assorting Clothes. To Wash Bedding. Feathers. Calicoes. Bran-water. Potato-water. Soda Washing. Soda Soap. Mode of Soda Washing. Cautions in Regard to Colored Clothes, and Flannels. To Wash Brown Linen, Muslins, Nankeen, Woollen Table-Covers and Shawls, Woollen Yarn, Worsted and Woollen Hose. To Cleanse Gentlemen's Broadcloths. To make Ley, Soft Soap, Hard Soap, White Soap, Starch, and other Articles used in Washing, 284 CHAPTER XXVII. ON STARCHING, IRONING, AND CLEANSING. To prepare Starch. Glue and Gum Starch. Beef's or Ox-Gall. Starching Muslins and Laces. To Cleanse or Whiten Silk Lace, or Blond, and White Lace Veils. _On Ironing._ Articles to be provided for Ironing. Sprinkling, Folding, and Ironing, 292 CHAPTER XXVIII. ON WHITENING, CLEANSING, AND DYEING. To Whiten Articles and Remove Stains from them. Mixtures to Remove Stains and Grease. To Cleanse Silk Handkerchiefs and Ribands; Silk Hose or Gloves; Down and Feathers; Straw and Leghorn Hats. _On Coloring._ Pink, Red, Yellow, Blue, Green, Salmon, Buff, Dove, Slate, Brown, Black, and Olive Colors, 296 CHAPTER XXIX. ON THE CARE OF PARLORS. Proper Arrangement of Rooms. Shades and Colors. Carpets, Curtains, and other Furniture, should be selected with Reference to each other. Laying down Carpets. Blocks to prevent Sofas and Tables from rubbing against Walls, and to hold Doors open. Footstools. Sweeping Carpets. Tealeaves. Wet Indian Meal. Taking up and cleansing Carpets. Washing Carpets. Straw Matting. Pictures and Glasses. Curtains and Sofas. Mahogany Furniture. Unvarnished Furniture; Mixtures for. Hearths and Jambs. Sweeping and Dusting Parlors, 302 CHAPTER XXX. ON THE CARE OF BREAKFAST AND DINING-ROOMS. Large Closet necessary. Dumb Waiter, or Sliding Closet. Furniture for a Table. On Setting a Table. Rules for doing it properly;--for Breakfast and Tea; for Dinner. On Waiting at Table. On Carving and Helping at Table, 306 CHAPTER XXXI. ON THE CARE OF CHAMBERS AND BEDROOMS. Importance of well-ventilated Sleeping-rooms. Debility and Ill-health caused by a Want of Pure Air. Chamber Furniture. Cheap Couch. Bedding. Feathers, Straw, or Hair, Mattresses. To Make a Bed. Domestics should be provided with Single Beds, and Washing Conveniences. On Packing and Storing Articles. To Fold a Gentleman's Coat and Shirt, and a Frock. Packing Trunks. Carpet Bags. Bonnet Covers. Packing Household Furniture for Moving, 311 CHAPTER XXXII. ON THE CARE OF THE KITCHEN, CELLAR, AND STOREROOM. Importance of a Convenient Kitchen. Floor should be painted. Sink and Drain. Washing Dishes. Conveniences needed. Rules. Kitchen Furniture. Crockery. Iron Ware. Tin Ware. Wooden Ware. Basket Ware. Other Articles. On the Care of the Cellar. Storeroom. Modes of Destroying Insects and Vermin, 317 CHAPTER XXXIII. ON SEWING, CUTTING, AND MENDING. Importance of Young Girls being taught various Kinds of Stitching. Directions for doing various Kinds of Work. Work-Baskets, and their Contents. On Cutting and Fitting Garments. Silks. Cotton and Linen. Old Silk Dresses quilted for Skirts. Flannel; White should be colored. Children's Flannels. Nightgowns. Wrappers. Bedding. Mending, 324 CHAPTER XXXIV. ON THE CARE OF YARDS AND GARDENS. On the Preparation of Soil. For Pot-Plants. On the Preparation of a Hot-Bed. Planting Flower-Seeds. To plant Garden-Seeds. Transplanting. To Re-pot House-Plants. On laying out Yards. Gardens. Flower-Beds. Bulbs and Tuberous Roots. List of Various Kinds of Flowers, in Reference to Color, and Height. Annuals. Climbing Plants. Perennials. Herbaceous Roots. Shrubs; List of those most suitable for adorning a Yard. Roses; Varieties of. Shade-Trees. Time for Transplanting. Trees. Care of House Plants, 331 CHAPTER XXXV. ON THE PROPAGATION OF PLANTS. Different Modes of Propagation;--By Offsets; Cuttings; Layers; Budding, or Inoculating; Ingrafting;--Whip-Grafting; Split-Grafting; Stock-Grafting. Pruning. Thinning, 341 CHAPTER XXXVI. ON THE CULTIVATION OF FRUIT. Value of Attention to this Subject. Preparation of Soil. Planting of Seeds. Budding, Grafting, and Transplanting. Training the Limbs. Attention to the Soil. Manuring. Filberts. Figs. Currants. Gooseberries. Raspberries. Strawberries. Grapes. To Preserve Fruit; Modes of Preserving Fruit-Trees. Fire Blight. Worms, 347 CHAPTER XXXVII. MISCELLANEOUS DIRECTIONS. Women should know how to take proper Care of Domestic Animals. Care of a Horse. Care of a Cow. Poultry. Cautions for Winter. Smoky Chimneys. House-Cleaning. Parties. Invitations. Comfort of Guests. Flower-Baskets. Fire-Boards. Water-proof Shoes. Earthen Ware. Cements, &c. &c. 351 NOTE.--Cooking, 354 GLOSSARY, 355 INDEX, 371 LIST OF ENGRAVINGS. 1. The Human Skeleton, showing the Connection of the Bones of the System, 70 2, 3, 4. The Cervical, Dorsal, and Lumbar, Vertebræ, 72 5. Muscles of the Arm, 74 6. Vertical Section of the Skull and Spinal Column, side view, 77 7. View of the same as seen from behind, 77 8. Ramifications of the Nerves, 79 9, 10, 11. Natural and Distorted Spines, 81 12. Vascular System, or Blood-Vessels, 82 13. The Two Sides of the Heart, separated, 85 14. The Heart, with its two Sides united, as in Nature, 86 15. The Heart, with the great Blood-Vessels, on a larger scale, 87 16. Organs of Digestion and Respiration, 88 17. Elevation of a Cottage of Fine Proportions, 262 18. Ground-plan of the same, 262 19. Arrangement of one Side of a Room 263 20. Fireplace and Mantelpiece, 265 21. Elevation of a Cottage on a different Plan from the former, 265 22. Ground-plan of the same, 266 23, 24. Ground-plan and Second Story of a two-story Cottage, 267 25. Front Elevation of the latter Cottage, 268 26. Front Elevation, on a different Plan, 268 27, 28. Plans of First and Second Stories of the latter Elevation, 269 29, 30. Plans of First and Second Stories of a larger House, 270 31. Front Elevation of a very convenient Cottage, 271 32. Ground-plan of the same, 272 33. Cottage of Daniel Wadsworth, Esq., near Hartford, Conn., 274 34. Accommodations for securing Water with the least Labor, 275 35. Back-door Accommodations, 276 36. Latticed Portico, 277 37. Sliding Closet, or Dumb Waiter, 278 38. Cheap Couch, 312 39. Plan of a Flower-Bed, 334 40. Budding, 343 41. Grafting, 344 42. Stock-Grafting, 345 DOMESTIC ECONOMY. CHAPTER I. THE PECULIAR RESPONSIBILITIES OF AMERICAN WOMEN. There are some reasons, why American women should feel an interest in the support of the democratic institutions of their Country, which it is important that they should consider. The great maxim, which is the basis of all our civil and political institutions, is, that "all men are created equal," and that they are equally entitled to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." But it can readily be seen, that this is only another mode of expressing the fundamental principle which the Great Ruler of the Universe has established, as the law of His eternal government. "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;" and "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them," are the Scripture forms, by which the Supreme Lawgiver requires that each individual of our race shall regard the happiness of others, as of the same value as his own; and which forbid any institution, in private or civil life, which secures advantages to one class, by sacrificing the interests of another. The principles of democracy, then, are identical with the principles of Christianity. But, in order that each individual may pursue and secure the highest degree of happiness within his reach, unimpeded by the selfish interests of others, a system of laws must be established, which sustain certain relations and dependencies in social and civil life. What these relations and their attending obligations shall be, are to be determined, not with reference to the wishes and interests of a few, but solely with reference to the general good of all; so that each individual shall have his own interest, as well as the public benefit, secured by them. For this purpose, it is needful that certain relations be sustained, which involve the duties of subordination. There must be the magistrate and the subject, one of whom is the superior, and the other the inferior. There must be the relations of husband and wife, parent and child, teacher and pupil, employer and employed, each involving the relative duties of subordination. The superior, in certain particulars, is to direct, and the inferior is to yield obedience. Society could never go forward, harmoniously, nor could any craft or profession be successfully pursued, unless these superior and subordinate relations be instituted and sustained. But who shall take the higher, and who the subordinate, stations in social and civil life? This matter, in the case of parents and children, is decided by the Creator. He has given children to the control of parents, as their superiors, and to them they remain subordinate, to a certain age, or so long as they are members of their household. And parents can delegate such a portion of their authority to teachers and employers, as the interests of their children require. In most other cases, in a truly democratic state, each individual is allowed to choose for himself, who shall take the position of his superior. No woman is forced to obey any husband but the one she chooses for herself; nor is she obliged to take a husband, if she prefers to remain single. So every domestic, and every artisan or laborer, after passing from parental control, can choose the employer to whom he is to accord obedience, or, if he prefers to relinquish certain advantages, he can remain without taking a subordinate place to any employer. Each subject, also, has equal power with every other, to decide who shall be his superior as a ruler. The weakest, the poorest, the most illiterate, has the same opportunity to determine this question, as the richest, the most learned, and the most exalted. And the various privileges that wealth secures, are equally open to all classes. Every man may aim at riches, unimpeded by any law or institution which secures peculiar privileges to a favored class, at the expense of another. Every law, and every institution, is tested by examining whether it secures equal advantages to all; and, if the people become convinced that any regulation sacrifices the good of the majority to the interests of the smaller number, they have power to abolish it. The institutions of monarchical and aristocratic nations are based on precisely opposite principles. They secure, to certain small and favored classes, advantages, which can be maintained, only by sacrificing the interests of the great mass of the people. Thus, the throne and aristocracy of England are supported by laws and customs, which burden the lower classes with taxes, so enormous, as to deprive them of all the luxuries, and of most of the comforts, of life. Poor dwellings, scanty food, unhealthy employments, excessive labor, and entire destitution of the means and time for education, are appointed for the lower classes, that a few may live in palaces, and riot in every indulgence. The tendencies of democratic institutions, in reference to the rights and interests of the female sex, have been fully developed in the United States; and it is in this aspect, that the subject is one of peculiar interest to American women. In this Country, it is established, both by opinion and by practice, that woman has an equal interest in all social and civil concerns; and that no domestic, civil, or political, institution, is right, which sacrifices her interest to promote that of the other sex. But in order to secure her the more firmly in all these privileges, it is decided, that, in the domestic relation, she take a subordinate station, and that, in civil and political concerns, her interests be intrusted to the other sex, without her taking any part in voting, or in making and administering laws. The result of this order of things has been fairly tested, and is thus portrayed by M. De Tocqueville, a writer, who, for intelligence, fidelity, and ability, ranks second to none. "There are people in Europe, who, confounding together the different characteristics of the sexes, would make of man and woman, beings not only equal, but alike. They would give to both the same functions, impose on both the same duties, and grant to both the same rights. They would mix them in all things,--their business, their occupations, their pleasures. It may readily be conceived, that, by _thus_ attempting to make one sex equal to the other, both are degraded; and, from so preposterous a medley of the works of Nature, nothing could ever result, but weak men and disorderly women. "It is not thus that the Americans understand the species of democratic equality, which may be established between the sexes. They admit, that, as Nature has appointed such wide differences between the physical and moral constitutions of man and woman, her manifest design was, to give a distinct employment to their various faculties; and they hold, that improvement does not consist in making beings so dissimilar do pretty nearly the same things, but in getting each of them to fulfil their respective tasks, in the best possible manner. The Americans have applied to the sexes the great principle of political economy, which governs the manufactories of our age, by carefully dividing the duties of man from those of woman, in order that the great work of society may be the better carried on. "In no country has such constant care been taken, as in America, to trace two clearly distinct lines of action for the two sexes, and to make them keep pace one with the other, but in two pathways which are always different. American women never manage the outward concerns of the family, or conduct a business, or take a part in political life; nor are they, on the other hand, ever compelled to perform the rough labor of the fields, or to make any of those laborious exertions, which demand the exertion of physical strength. No families are so poor, as to form an exception to this rule. "If, on the one hand, an American woman cannot escape from the quiet circle of domestic employments, on the other hand, she is never forced to go beyond it. Hence it is, that the women of America, who often exhibit a masculine strength of understanding, and a manly energy, generally preserve great delicacy of personal appearance, and always retain the manners of women, although they sometimes show that they have the hearts and minds of men. "Nor have the Americans ever supposed, that one consequence of democratic principles, is, the subversion of marital power, or the confusion of the natural authorities in families. They hold, that every association must have a head, in order to accomplish its object; and that the natural head of the conjugal association is man. They do not, therefore, deny him the right of directing his partner; and they maintain, that, in the smaller association of husband and wife, as well as in the great social community, the object of democracy is, to regulate and legalize the powers which are necessary, not to subvert all power. "This opinion is not peculiar to one sex, and contested by the other. I never observed, that the women of America considered conjugal authority as a fortunate usurpation of their rights, nor that they thought themselves degraded by submitting to it. It appears to me, on the contrary, that they attach a sort of pride to the voluntary surrender of their own will, and make it their boast to bend themselves to the yoke, not to shake it off. Such, at least, is the feeling expressed by the most virtuous of their sex; the others are silent; and in the United States it is not the practice for a guilty wife to clamor for the rights of woman, while she is trampling on her holiest duties." "Although the travellers, who have visited North America, differ on a great number of points, they agree in remarking, that morals are far more strict, there, than elsewhere.[A] It is evident that, on this point, the Americans are very superior to their progenitors, the English." "In England, as in all other Countries of Europe, public malice is constantly attacking the frailties of women. Philosophers and statesmen are heard to deplore, that morals are not sufficiently strict; and the literary productions of the Country constantly lead one to suppose so. In America, all books, novels not excepted, suppose women to be chaste; and no one thinks of relating affairs of gallantry." "It has often been remarked, that, in Europe, a certain degree of contempt lurks, even in the flattery which men lavish upon women. Although a European frequently affects to be the slave of woman, it may be seen, that he never sincerely thinks her his equal. In the United States, men seldom compliment women, but they daily show how much they esteem them. They constantly display an entire confidence in the understanding of a wife, and a profound respect for her freedom." They have decided that her mind is just as fitted as that of a man to discover the plain truth, and her heart as firm to embrace it, and they have never sought to place her virtue, any more than his, under the shelter of prejudice, ignorance, and fear. "It would seem, that in Europe, where man so easily submits to the despotic sway of woman, they are nevertheless curtailed of some of the greatest qualities of the human species, and considered as seductive, but imperfect beings, and (what may well provoke astonishment) women ultimately look upon themselves in the same light, and almost consider it as a privilege that they are entitled to show themselves futile, feeble, and timid. The women of America claim no such privileges." "It is true, that the Americans rarely lavish upon women those eager attentions which are commonly paid them in Europe. But their conduct to women always implies, that they suppose them to be virtuous and refined; and such is the respect entertained for the moral freedom of the sex, that, in the presence of a woman, the most guarded language is used, lest her ear should be offended by an expression. In America, a young unmarried woman may, alone, and without fear, undertake a long journey." "Thus the Americans do not think that man and woman have either the duty, or the right, to perform the same offices, but they show an equal regard for both their respective parts; and, though their lot is different, they consider both of them, as beings of equal value. They do not give to the courage of woman the same form, or the same direction, as to that of man; but they never doubt her courage: and if they hold that man and his partner ought not always to exercise their intellect and understanding in the same manner, they at least believe the understanding of the one to be as sound as that of the other, and her intellect to be as clear. Thus, then, while they have allowed the social inferiority of woman to subsist, they have done all they could to raise her, morally and intellectually, to the level of man; and, in this respect, they appear to me to have excellently understood the true principle of democratic improvement. "As for myself, I do not hesitate to avow, that, although the women of the United States are confined within the narrow circle of domestic life, and their situation is, in some respects, one of extreme dependence, I have nowhere seen women occupying a loftier position; and if I were asked, now I am drawing to the close of this work, in which I have spoken of so many important things done by the Americans, to what the singular prosperity and growing strength of that people ought mainly to be attributed, I should reply,--_to the superiority of their women_." This testimony of a foreigner, who has had abundant opportunities of making a comparison, is sanctioned by the assent of all candid and intelligent men, who have enjoyed similar opportunities. It appears, then, that it is in America, alone, that women are raised to an equality with the other sex; and that, both in theory and practice, their interests are regarded as of equal value. They are made subordinate in station, only where a regard to their best interests demands it, while, as if in compensation for this, by custom and courtesy, they are always treated as superiors. Universally, in this Country, through every class of society, precedence is given to woman, in all the comforts, conveniences, and courtesies, of life. In civil and political affairs, American women take no interest or concern, except so far as they sympathize with their family and personal friends; but in all cases, in which they do feel a concern, their opinions and feelings have a consideration, equal, or even superior, to that of the other sex. In matters pertaining to the education of their children, in the selection and support of a clergyman, in all benevolent enterprises, and in all questions relating to morals or manners, they have a superior influence. In such concerns, it would be impossible to carry a point, contrary to their judgement and feelings; while an enterprise, sustained by them, will seldom fail of success. If those who are bewailing themselves over the fancied wrongs and injuries of women in this Nation, could only see things as they are, they would know, that, whatever remnants of a barbarous or aristocratic age may remain in our civil institutions, in reference to the interests of women, it is only because they are ignorant of them, or do not use their influence to have them rectified; for it is very certain that there is nothing reasonable, which American women would unite in asking, that would not readily be bestowed. The preceding remarks, then, illustrate the position, that the democratic institutions of this Country are in reality no other than the principles of Christianity carried into operation, and that they tend to place woman in her true position in society, as having equal rights with the other sex; and that, in fact, they have secured to American women a lofty and fortunate position, which, as yet, has been attained by the women of no other nation. There is another topic, presented in the work of the above author, which demands the profound attention of American women. The following is taken from that part of the Introduction to the work, illustrating the position, that, for ages, there has been a constant progress, in all civilized nations, towards the democratic equality attained in this Country. "The various occurrences of national existence have every where turned to the advantage of democracy; all men have aided it by their exertions; those who have intentionally labored in its cause, and those who have served it unwittingly; those who have fought for it, and those who have declared themselves its opponents, have all been driven along in the same track, have all labored to one end;" "all have been blind instruments in the hands of God." "The gradual developement of the equality of conditions, is, therefore, a Providential fact; and it possesses all the characteristics of a Divine decree: it is universal, it is durable, it constantly eludes all human interference, and all events, as well as all men, contribute to its progress." "The whole book, which is here offered to the public, has been written under the impression of a kind of religious dread, produced in the author's mind, by the contemplation of so irresistible a revolution, which has advanced for centuries, in spite of such amazing obstacles, and which is still proceeding in the midst of the ruins it has made. "It is not necessary that God Himself should speak, in order to disclose to us the unquestionable signs of His will. We can discern them in the habitual course of Nature, and in the invariable tendency of events." "If the men of our time were led, by attentive observation, and by sincere reflection, to acknowledge that the gradual and progressive developement of social equality is at once the past and future of their history, this solitary truth would confer the sacred character of a Divine decree upon the change. To attempt to check democracy, would be, in that case, to resist the will of God; and the nations would then be constrained to make the best of the social lot awarded to them by Providence." "It is not, then, merely to satisfy a legitimate curiosity, that I have examined America; my wish has been to find instruction by which we may ourselves profit." "I have not even affected to discuss whether the social revolution, which I believe to be irresistible, is advantageous or prejudicial to mankind. I have acknowledged this revolution, as a fact already accomplished, or on the eve of its accomplishment; and I have selected the nation, from among those which have undergone it, in which its developement has been the most peaceful and the most complete, in order to discern its natural consequences, and, if it be possible, to distinguish the means by which it may be rendered profitable. I confess, that in America I saw more than America; I sought the image of democracy itself, with its inclinations, its character, its prejudices, and its passions, in order to learn what we have to fear, or to hope, from its progress." It thus appears, that the sublime and elevating anticipations which have filled the mind and heart of the religious world, have become so far developed, that philosophers and statesmen are perceiving the signs, and are predicting the approach, of the same grand consummation. There is a day advancing, "by seers predicted, and by poets sung," when the curse of selfishness shall be removed; when "scenes surpassing fable, and yet true," shall be realized; when all nations shall rejoice and be made blessed, under those benevolent influences, which the Messiah came to establish on earth. And this is the Country, which the Disposer of events designs shall go forth as the cynosure of nations, to guide them to the light and blessedness of that day. To us is committed the grand, the responsible privilege, of exhibiting to the world, the beneficent influences of Christianity, when carried into every social, civil, and political institution; and, though we have, as yet, made such imperfect advances, already the light is streaming into the dark prison-house of despotic lands, while startled kings and sages, philosophers and statesmen, are watching us with that interest, which a career so illustrious, and so involving their own destiny, is calculated to excite. They are studying our institutions, scrutinizing our experience, and watching for our mistakes, that they may learn whether "a social revolution, so irresistible, be advantageous or prejudicial to mankind." There are persons, who regard these interesting truths merely as food for national vanity; but every reflecting and Christian mind, must consider it as an occasion for solemn and anxious reflection. Are we, then, a spectacle to the world? Has the Eternal Lawgiver appointed us to work out a problem, involving the destiny of the whole earth? Are such momentous interests to be advanced or retarded, just in proportion as we are faithful to our high trust? "What manner of persons, then, ought we to be," in attempting to sustain so solemn, so glorious a responsibility? But the part to be enacted by American women, in this great moral enterprise, is the point to which special attention should here be directed. The success of democratic institutions, as is conceded by all, depends upon the intellectual and moral character of the mass of the people. If they are intelligent and virtuous, democracy is a blessing; but if they are ignorant and wicked, it is only a curse, and as much more dreadful than any other form of civil government, as a thousand tyrants are more to be dreaded than one. It is equally conceded, that the formation of the moral and intellectual character of the young is committed mainly to the female hand. The mother forms the character of the future man; the sister bends the fibres that are hereafter to be the forest tree; the wife sways the heart, whose energies may turn for good or for evil the destinies of a nation. Let the women of a country be made virtuous and intelligent, and the men will certainly be the same. The proper education of a man decides the welfare of an individual; but educate a woman, and the interests of a whole family are secured. If this be so, as none will deny, then to American women, more than to any others on earth, is committed the exalted privilege of extending over the world those blessed influences, which are to renovate degraded man, and "clothe all climes with beauty." No American woman, then, has any occasion for feeling that hers is an humble or insignificant lot. The value of what an individual accomplishes, is to be estimated by the importance of the enterprise achieved, and not by the particular position of the laborer. The drops of heaven which freshen the earth, are each of equal value, whether they fall in the lowland meadow, or the princely parterre. The builders of a temple are of equal importance, whether they labor on the foundations, or toil upon the dome. Thus, also, with those labors which are to be made effectual in the regeneration of the Earth. And it is by forming a habit of regarding the apparently insignificant efforts of each isolated laborer, in a comprehensive manner, as indispensable portions of a grand result, that the minds of all, however humble their sphere of service, can be invigorated and cheered. The woman, who is rearing a family of children; the woman, who labors in the schoolroom; the woman, who, in her retired chamber, earns, with her needle, the mite, which contributes to the intellectual and moral elevation of her Country; even the humble domestic, whose example and influence may be moulding and forming young minds, while her faithful services sustain a prosperous domestic state;--each and all may be animated by the consciousness, that they are agents in accomplishing the greatest work that ever was committed to human responsibility. It is the building of a glorious temple, whose base shall be coextensive with the bounds of the earth, whose summit shall pierce the skies, whose splendor shall beam on all lands; and those who hew the lowliest stone, as much as those who carve the highest capital, will be equally honored, when its top-stone shall be laid, with new rejoicings of the morning stars, and shoutings of the sons of God. FOOTNOTE: [A] Miss Martineau is a singular exception to this remark. After receiving unexampled hospitalities and kindnesses, she gives the following picture of her entertainers. Having in other places spoken of the American woman as having "her intellect confined," and "her morals crushed," and as deficient in education, because she has "none of the objects in life for which an enlarged education is considered requisite," she says,--"It is assumed, in America, particularly in New England, that the morals of society there are peculiarly pure. I am grieved to doubt the fact; but I do doubt it." "The Auld-Robin-Gray story is a frequently-enacted tragedy here; and one of the worst symptoms that struck me, was, that there was usually a demand upon my sympathy in such cases."--"The unavoidable consequence of such a mode of marrying, is, that the sanctity of marriage is impaired, and that vice succeeds. There are sad tales in country villages, here and there, that attest this; and yet more in towns, in a rank of society where such things are seldom or never heard of in England."--"I unavoidably knew of more cases of lapse in highly respectable families in one State, than ever came to my knowledge at home; and they were got over with a disgrace far more temporary and superficial than they could have been visited with in England."--"The vacuity of mind of many women, is, I conclude, the cause of a vice, which it is painful to allude to, but which cannot honestly be passed over.--It is no secret on the spot, that the habit of intemperance is not infrequent among women of station and education in the most enlightened parts of the Country. I witnessed some instances, and heard of more. It does not seem to me to be regarded with all the dismay which such a symptom ought to excite. To the stranger, a novelty so horrible, a spectacle so fearful, suggests wide and deep subjects of investigation." It is not possible for language to give representations more false in every item. In evidence of this, the writer would mention, that, within the last few years, she has travelled almost the entire route taken by Miss Martineau, except the lower tier of the Southern States; and, though not meeting the same individuals, has mingled in the very same circles. Moreover, she has _resided_ from several months to several years in _eight_ of the different Northern and Western States, and spent several weeks at a time in five other States. She has also had pupils from every State in the Union, but two, and has visited extensively at their houses. But in her whole life, and in all these different positions, the writer has never, to her knowledge, seen even _one_ woman, of the classes with which she has associated, who had lapsed in the manner indicated by Miss Martineau; nor does she believe that such a woman could find admission in such circles any where in the Country. As to intemperate women, _five_ cases are all of whom the writer has ever heard, in such circles, and two of these many believed to be unwarrantably suspected. After following in Miss Martineau's track, and discovering all the falsehood, twaddle, gossip, old saws, and almanac stories, which have been strung together in her books, no charitable mode of accounting for the medley remains, but to suppose her the pitiable dupe of that love of hoaxing so often found in our Country. Again, Miss Martineau says, "We passed an unshaded meadow, where the grass had caught fire, _every day_, at _eleven o'clock_, the preceding Summer. This demonstrates the necessity of shade"! A woman, with so little common sense, as to swallow such an absurdity for truth, and then tack to it such an astute deduction, must be a tempting subject for the abovementioned mischievous propensity. CHAPTER II. DIFFICULTIES PECULIAR TO AMERICAN WOMEN. In the preceding chapter, were presented those views, which are calculated to inspire American women with a sense of their high responsibilities to their Country, and to the world; and of the excellence and grandeur of the object to which their energies may be consecrated. But it will be found to be the law of moral action, that whatever involves great results and great benefits, is always attended with great hazards and difficulties. And as it has been shown, that American women have a loftier position, and a more elevated object of enterprise, than the females of any other nation, so it will appear, that they have greater trials and difficulties to overcome, than any other women are called to encounter. Properly to appreciate the nature of these trials, it must be borne in mind, that the estimate of evils and privations depends, not so much on their positive nature, as on the character and habits of the person who meets them. A woman, educated in the savage state, finds it no trial to be destitute of many conveniences, which a woman, even of the lowest condition, in this Country, would deem indispensable to existence. So a woman, educated with the tastes and habits of the best New England or Virginia housekeepers, would encounter many deprivations and trials, which would never occur to one reared in the log cabin of a new settlement. So, also, a woman, who has been accustomed to carry forward her arrangements with well-trained domestics, would meet a thousand trials to her feelings and temper, by the substitution of ignorant foreigners, or shiftless slaves, which would be of little account to one who had never enjoyed any better service. Now, the larger portion of American women are the descendants of English progenitors, who, as a nation, are distinguished for systematic housekeeping, and for a great love of order, cleanliness, and comfort. And American women, to a greater or less extent, have inherited similar tastes and habits. But the prosperity and democratic tendencies of this Country produce results, materially affecting the comfort of housekeepers, which the females of monarchical and aristocratic lands are not called to meet. In such countries, all ranks and classes are fixed in a given position, and each person is educated for a particular sphere and style of living. And the dwellings, conveniences, and customs of life, remain very nearly the same, from generation to generation. This secures the preparation of all classes for their particular station, and makes the lower orders more dependent, and more subservient to employers. But how different is the state of things in this Country. Every thing is moving and changing. Persons in poverty, are rising to opulence, and persons of wealth, are sinking to poverty. The children of common laborers, by their talents and enterprise, are becoming nobles in intellect, or wealth, or office; while the children of the wealthy, enervated by indulgence, are sinking to humbler stations. The sons of the wealthy are leaving the rich mansions of their fathers, to dwell in the log cabins of the forest, where very soon they bear away the daughters of ease and refinement, to share the privations of a new settlement. Meantime, even in the more stationary portions of the community, there is a mingling of all grades of wealth, intellect, and education. There are no distinct classes, as in aristocratic lands, whose bounds are protected by distinct and impassable lines, but all are thrown into promiscuous masses. Thus, persons of humble means are brought into contact with those of vast wealth, while all intervening grades are placed side by side. Thus, too, there is a constant comparison of conditions, among equals, and a constant temptation presented to imitate the customs, and to strive for the enjoyments, of those who possess larger means. In addition to this, the flow of wealth, among all classes, is constantly increasing the number of those who live in a style demanding much hired service, while the number of those, who are compelled to go to service, is constantly diminishing. Our manufactories, also, are making increased demands for female labor, and offering larger compensation. In consequence of these things, there is such a disproportion between those who wish to hire, and those who are willing to go to domestic service, that, in the non-slaveholding States, were it not for the supply of poverty-stricken foreigners, there would not be a domestic for each family who demands one. And this resort to foreigners, poor as it is, scarcely meets the demand; while the disproportion must every year increase, especially if our prosperity increases. For, just in proportion as wealth rolls in upon us, the number of those, who will give up their own independent homes to serve strangers, will be diminished. The difficulties and sufferings, which have accrued to American women, from this cause, are almost incalculable. There is nothing, which so much demands system and regularity, as the affairs of a housekeeper, made up, as they are, of ten thousand desultory and minute items; and yet, this perpetually fluctuating state of society seems forever to bar any such system and regularity. The anxieties, vexations, perplexities, and even hard labor, which come upon American women, from this state of domestic service, are endless; and many a woman has, in consequence, been disheartened, discouraged, and ruined in health. The only wonder is, that, amid so many real difficulties, American women are still able to maintain such a character for energy, fortitude, and amiableness, as is universally allowed to be their due. But the second, and still greater difficulty, peculiar to American women, is, a delicacy of constitution, which renders them early victims to disease and decay. The fact that the women of this Country are unusually subject to disease, and that their beauty and youthfulness are of shorter continuance than those of the women of other nations, is one which always attracts the attention of foreigners; while medical men and philanthropists are constantly giving fearful monitions as to the extent and alarming increase of this evil. Investigations make it evident, that a large proportion of young ladies, from the wealthier classes, have the incipient stages of curvature of the spine, one of the most sure and fruitful causes of future disease and decay. The writer has heard medical men, who have made extensive inquiries, say, that a very large proportion of the young women at boarding schools, are affected in this way, while many other indications of disease and debility exist, in cases where this particular evil cannot be detected. In consequence of this enfeebled state of their constitutions, induced by a neglect of their physical education, as soon as they are called to the responsibilities and trials of domestic life, their constitution fails, and their whole existence is rendered a burden. For no woman can enjoy existence, when disease throws a dark cloud over the mind, and incapacitates her for the proper discharge of every duty. The writer, who for some ten years has had the charge of an institution, consisting of young ladies from almost every State in the Union, since relinquishing that charge, has travelled and visited extensively in most of the non-slaveholding States. In these circuits, she has learned the domestic history, not merely of her pupils, but of many other young wives and mothers, whose sorrowful experience has come to her knowledge. And the impression, produced by the dreadful extent of this evil, has at times been almost overwhelming. It would seem as if the primeval curse, which has written the doom of pain and sorrow on one period of a young mother's life, in this Country had been extended over all; so that the hour seldom arrives, when "she forgetteth her sorrow for joy that a man is born into the world." Many a mother will testify, with shuddering, that the most exquisite sufferings she ever endured, were not those appointed by Nature, but those, which, for week after week, have worn down health and spirits, when nourishing her child. And medical men teach us, that this, in most cases, results from a debility of constitution, consequent on the mismanagement of early life. And so frequent and so mournful are these, and the other distresses that result from the delicacy of the female constitution, that the writer has repeatedly heard mothers say, that they had wept tears of bitterness over their infant daughters, at the thought of the sufferings which they were destined to undergo; while they cherished the decided wish, that these daughters should never marry. At the same time, many a reflecting young woman is looking to her future prospects, with very different feelings and hopes from those which Providence designed. A perfectly healthy woman, especially a perfectly healthy mother, is so unfrequent, in some of the wealthier classes, that those, who are so, may be regarded as the exceptions, and not as the general rule. The writer has heard some of her friends declare, that they would ride fifty miles, to see a perfectly healthy and vigorous woman, out of the laboring classes. This, although somewhat jocose, was not an entirely unfair picture of the true state of female health in the wealthier classes. There are many causes operating, which serve to perpetuate and increase this evil. It is a well-known fact, that mental excitement tends to weaken the physical system, unless it is counterbalanced by a corresponding increase of exercise and fresh air. Now, the people of this Country are under the influence of high commercial, political, and religious stimulus, altogether greater than was ever known by any other nation; and in all this, women are made the sympathizing companions of the other sex. At the same time, young girls, in pursuing an education, have ten times greater an amount of intellectual taxation demanded, than was ever before exacted. Let any daughter, educated in our best schools at this day, compare the course of her study with that pursued in her mother's early life, and it will be seen that this estimate of the increase of mental taxation probably falls below the truth. Though, in some countries, there are small classes of females, in the higher circles, who pursue literature and science to a far greater extent than in any corresponding circles in this Country, yet, in no nation in the world are the advantages of a good intellectual education enjoyed, by so large a proportion of the females. And this education has consisted far less of accomplishments, and far more of those solid studies which demand the exercise of the various powers of mind, than the education of the women of other lands. And when American women are called to the responsibilities of domestic life, the degree in which their minds and feelings are taxed, is altogether greater than it is in any other nation. No women on earth have a higher sense of their moral and religious responsibilities, or better understand, not only what is demanded of them, as housekeepers, but all the claims that rest upon them as wives, mothers, and members of a social community. An American woman, who is the mistress of a family, feels her obligations, in reference to her influence over her husband, and a still greater responsibility in rearing and educating her children. She feels, too, the claims which the moral interests of her domestics have on her watchful care. In social life, she recognises the claims of hospitality, and the demands of friendly visiting. Her responsibility, in reference to the institutions of benevolence and religion, is deeply realized. The regular worship of the Lord's day, and all the various religious meetings and benevolent societies which place so much dependence on female influence and example, she feels obligated to sustain. Add to these multiplied responsibilities, the perplexities and evils which have been pointed out, resulting from the fluctuating state of society, and the deficiency of domestic service, and no one can deny that American women are exposed to a far greater amount of intellectual and moral excitement, than those of any other land. Of course, in order to escape the danger resulting from this, a greater amount of exercise in the fresh air, and all those methods which strengthen the constitution, are imperiously required. But, instead of this, it will be found, that, owing to the climate and customs of this Nation, there are no women who secure so little of this healthful and protecting regimen, as ours. Walking and riding and gardening, in the open air, are practised by the women of other lands, to a far greater extent, than by American females. Most English women, in the wealthier classes, are able to walk six and eight miles, without oppressive fatigue; and when they visit this Country, always express their surprise at the inactive habits of American ladies. In England, regular exercise, in the open air, is very commonly required by the mother, as a part of daily duty, and is sought by young women, as an enjoyment. In consequence of a different physical training, English women, in those circles which enjoy competency, present an appearance which always strikes American gentlemen as a contrast to what they see at home. An English mother, at thirty, or thirty-five, is in the full bloom of perfected womanhood; as fresh and healthful as her daughters. But where are the American mothers, who can reach this period unfaded and unworn? In America, young ladies of the wealthier classes are sent to school from early childhood; and neither parents nor teachers make it a definite object to secure a proper amount of fresh air and exercise, to counterbalance this intellectual taxation. As soon as their school days are over, dressing, visiting, evening parties, and stimulating amusements, take the place of study, while the most unhealthful modes of dress add to the physical exposures. To make morning calls, or do a little shopping, is all that can be termed their exercise in the fresh air; and this, compared to what is needed, is absolutely nothing, and on some accounts is worse than nothing.[B] In consequence of these, and other evils, which will be pointed out more at large in the following pages, the young women of America grow up with such a delicacy of constitution, that probably eight out of ten become subjects of disease, either before or as soon as they are called to the responsibilities of domestic life. But there is one peculiarity of situation, in regard to American women, which makes this delicacy of constitution still more disastrous. It is the liability to the exposures and hardships of a newly-settled country. One more extract from De Tocqueville will give a view of this part of the subject, which any one, familiar with Western life, will admire for its verisimilitude. "The same strength of purpose which the young wives of America display in bending themselves, at once, and without repining, to the austere duties of their new condition, is no less manifest in all the great trials of their lives. In no country in the world, are private fortunes more precarious, than in the United States. It is not uncommon for the same man, in the course of his life, to rise and sink again through all the grades which lead from opulence to poverty. American women support these vicissitudes with a calm and unquenchable energy. It would seem that their desires contract, as easily as they expand, with their fortunes. The greater part of the adventurers, who migrate, every year, to people the Western wilds, belong" "to the old Anglo-American race of the Northern States. Many of these men, who rush so boldly onward in pursuit of wealth, were already in the enjoyment of a competency in their own part of the Country. They take their wives along with them, and make them share the countless perils and privations, which always attend the commencement of these expeditions. I have often met, even on the verge of the wilderness, with young women, who, after having been brought up amid all the comforts of the large towns of New England, had passed, almost without any intermediate stage, from the wealthy abode of their parents, to a comfortless hovel in a forest. Fever, solitude, and a tedious life, had not broken the springs of their courage. Their features were impaired and faded, but their looks were firm: they appeared to be, at once, sad and resolute." In another passage, he gives this picturesque sketch: "By the side of the hearth, sits a woman, with a baby on her lap. She nods to us, without disturbing herself. Like the pioneer, this woman is in the prime of life; her appearance would seem superior to her condition: and her apparel even betrays a lingering taste for dress. But her delicate limbs appear shrunken; her features are drawn in; her eye is mild and melancholy; her whole physiognomy bears marks of a degree of religious resignation, a deep quiet of all passion, and some sort of natural and tranquil firmness, ready to meet all the ills of life, without fearing and without braving them. Her children cluster about her, full of health, turbulence, and energy; they are true children of the wilderness: their mother watches them, from time to time, with mingled melancholy and joy. To look at their strength, and her languor, one might imagine that the life she had given them had exhausted her own; and still she regrets not what they have cost her. The house, inhabited by these emigrants, has no internal partition or loft. In the one chamber of which it consists, the whole family is gathered for the night. The dwelling is itself a little world; an ark of civilization amid an ocean of foliage. A hundred steps beyond it, the primeval forest spreads its shades, and solitude resumes its sway." Such scenes, and such women, the writer has met, and few persons realize how many refined and lovely women are scattered over the broad prairies and deep forests of the West; and none, but the Father above, appreciates the extent of those sacrifices and sufferings, and the value of that firm faith and religious hope, which live, in perennial bloom, amid those vast solitudes. If the American women of the East merit the palm, for their skill and success as accomplished housekeepers, still more is due to the heroines of the West, who, with such unyielding fortitude and cheerful endurance, attempt similar duties, amid so many disadvantages and deprivations. But, though American women have those elevated principles and feelings, which enable them to meet such trials in so exemplary a manner, their physical energies are not equal to the exertions demanded. Though the mind may be bright and firm, the casket is shivered; though the spirit may be willing, the flesh is weak. A woman of firm health, with the hope and elasticity of youth, may be envied rather than pitied, as she shares with her young husband the hopes and enterprises of pioneer life. But, when the body fails, then the eye of hope grows dim, the heart sickens, the courage dies; and, in solitude, weariness, and suffering, the wanderer pines for the dear voices and the tender sympathies of a far distant home. Then it is, that the darkest shade is presented, which marks the peculiar trials and liabilities of American women, and which exhibits still more forcibly the disastrous results of that delicacy of constitution which has been pointed out. For, though all American women, or even the greater part of them, are not called to encounter such trials, yet no mother, who rears a family of daughters, can say, that such a lot will not fall to one of her flock; nor can she know which will escape. The reverses of fortune, and the chances of matrimony, expose every woman in the Nation to such liabilities, for which she needs to be prepared. FOOTNOTE: [B] So little idea have most ladies, in the wealthier classes, of what is a proper amount of exercise, that, if they should succeed in walking a mile or so, at a moderate pace, three or four times a week, they would call it taking a great deal of exercise. CHAPTER III. REMEDIES FOR THE PRECEDING DIFFICULTIES. Having pointed out the peculiar responsibilities of American women, and the peculiar embarrassments which they are called to encounter, the following suggestions are offered, as remedies for such difficulties. In the first place, the physical and domestic education of daughters should occupy the principal attention of mothers, in childhood; and the stimulation of the intellect should be very much reduced. As a general rule, daughters should not be sent to school before they are six years old; and, when they are sent, far more attention should be paid to their physical developement, than is usually done. They should never be confined, at any employment, more than an hour at a time; and this confinement should be followed by sports in the open air. Such accommodations should be secured, that, at all seasons, and in all weathers, the teacher can every half hour send out a portion of her school, for sports. And still more care should be given to preserve pure air in the schoolroom. The close stoves, crowded condition, and poisonous air, of most schoolrooms, act as constant drains on the health and strength of young children. In addition to this, much less time should be given to school, and much more to domestic employments, especially in the wealthier classes. A little girl may begin, at five or six years of age, to assist her mother; and, if properly trained, by the time she is ten, she can render essential aid. From this time, until she is fourteen or fifteen, it should be the principal object of her education to secure a strong and healthy constitution, and a thorough practical knowledge of all kinds of domestic employments. During this period, though some attention ought to be paid to intellectual culture, it ought to be made altogether secondary in importance; and such a measure of study and intellectual excitement, as is now demanded in our best female seminaries, ought never to be allowed, until a young lady has passed the most critical period of her youth, and has a vigorous and healthful constitution fully established. The plan might be adopted, of having schools for young girls kept only in the afternoon; that their mornings might be occupied in domestic exercise, without interfering with school employments. Where a proper supply of domestic exercise cannot be afforded, the cultivation of flowers and fruits might be resorted to, as a delightful and unfailing promotive of pleasure and health. And it is to that class of mothers, who have the best means of securing hired service, and who are the most tempted to allow their daughters to grow up with inactive habits, that their Country and the world must look for a reformation, in this respect. Whatever ladies in the wealthier classes decide shall be fashionable, will be followed by all the rest; but, while they persist in the aristocratic habits, now so common, and bring up their daughters to feel as if labor was degrading and unbecoming, the evils pointed out will never find a remedy. It is, therefore, the peculiar duty of ladies, who have wealth, to set a proper example, in this particular, and make it their first aim to secure a strong and healthful constitution for their daughters, by active domestic employments. All the sweeping, dusting, care of furniture and beds, the clear starching, and the nice cooking, should be done by the daughters of a family, and not by hired servants. It may cost the mother more care, and she may find it needful to hire a person for the express purpose of instructing and superintending her daughters, in these employments; but it should be regarded as indispensable to be secured, either by the mother's agency, or by a substitute. It is in this point of view, that the dearth of good domestics in this Country may, in its results, prove a substantial blessing. If all housekeepers, who have the means, could secure good servants, there would be little hope that so important a revolution, in the domestic customs of the wealthy classes, could be effected. And so great is the natural indolence of mankind, that the amount of exercise, needful for health, will never be secured by those who are led to it through no necessity, but merely from rational considerations. Yet the pressure of domestic troubles, from the want of good domestics, has already determined many a mother, in the wealthy classes, to train her daughters to aid her in domestic service; and thus necessity is compelling mothers to do what abstract principles of expediency could never secure. A second method of promoting the same object, is, to raise the science and practice of Domestic Economy to its appropriate place, as a regular study in female seminaries. The succeeding chapter will present the reasons for this, more at large. But it is to the mothers of our Country, that the community must look for this change. It cannot be expected, that teachers, who have their attention chiefly absorbed by the intellectual and moral interests of their pupils, should properly realize the importance of this department of education. But if mothers generally become convinced of this, their judgement and wishes will meet the respectful consideration they deserve, and the object will be accomplished. The third method of securing a remedy for the evils pointed out, is, the endowment of female institutions, under the care of suitable trustees, who shall secure a proper course of education. The importance of this measure cannot be realized by those, who have not turned their attention to this subject; and for such, the following considerations are presented. The endowment of colleges, and of law, medical, and divinity, schools, for the other sex, is designed to secure a thorough and proper education, for those who have the most important duties of society to perform. The men who are to expound the laws, the men who have the care of the public health, and the men who are to communicate religious instruction, should have well-disciplined and well-informed minds; and it is mainly for this object that collegiate and professional institutions are established. Liberal and wealthy individuals contribute funds, and the legislatures of the States also lend assistance, so that every State in this Nation has from one to twenty such endowed institutions, supplied with buildings, apparatus, a library, and a faculty of learned men to carry forward a superior course of instruction. And the use of all these advantages is secured, in many cases, at an expense, no greater than is required to send a boy to a common school and pay his board there. No private school could offer these advantages, without charging such a sum, as would forbid all but the rich from securing its benefits. By furnishing such superior advantages, on low terms, multitudes are properly educated, who would otherwise remain in ignorance; and thus the professions are supplied, by men properly qualified for them. Were there no such institutions, and no regular and appropriate course of study demanded for admission to the bar, the pulpit, and to medical practice, the education of most professional men would be desultory, imperfect, and deficient. Parents and children would regulate the course of study according to their own crude notions; and, instead of having institutions which agree in carrying on a similar course of study, each school would have its own peculiar system, and compete and conflict with every other. Meantime, the public would have no means of deciding which was best, nor any opportunity for learning when a professional man was properly qualified for his duties. But as it is, the diploma of a college, and the license of an appointed body of judges, must both be secured, before a young man feels that he has entered the most promising path to success in his profession. Our Country, then, is most abundantly supplied with endowed institutions, which secure a liberal education, on such low terms as make them accessible to all classes, and in which the interests of education are watched over, sustained, and made permanent, by an appropriate board of trustees. But are not the most responsible of all duties committed to the charge of woman? Is it not her profession to take care of mind, body, and soul? and that, too, at the most critical of all periods of existence? And is it not as much a matter of public concern, that she should be properly qualified for her duties, as that ministers, lawyers, and physicians, should be prepared for theirs? And is it not as important, to endow institutions which shall make a superior education accessible to all classes,--for females, as for the other sex? And is it not equally important, that institutions for females be under the supervision of intelligent and responsible trustees, whose duty it shall be to secure a uniform and appropriate education for one sex as much as for the other? It would seem as if every mind must accord an affirmative reply, as soon as the matter is fairly considered. As the education of females is now conducted, any man or woman who pleases, can establish a female seminary, and secure recommendations which will attract pupils. But whose business is it to see that these young females are not huddled into crowded rooms? or that they do not sleep in ill-ventilated chambers? or that they have healthful food? or that they have the requisite amount of fresh air and exercise? or that they pursue an appropriate and systematic course of study? or that their manners, principles, and morals, are properly regulated? Parents either have not the means, or else are not qualified to judge; or, if they are furnished with means and capacity, they are often restricted to a choice of the best school within reach, even when it is known to be exceedingly objectionable. If the writer were to disclose all that can truly be told of boarding-school life, and its influence on health, manners, disposition, intellect, and morals, the disclosure would both astonish and shock every rational mind. And yet she believes that such institutions are far better managed in this Country, than in any other; and that the number of those, which are subject to imputations in these respects, is much less than could reasonably be expected. But it is most surely the case, that much remains to be done, in order to supply such institutions as are needed for the proper education of American women. In attempting a sketch of the kind of institutions which are demanded, it is very fortunate that there is no necessity for presenting a theory, which may, or may not, be approved by experience. It is the greatest honor of one of our newest Western States, that it can boast of such an Institution, endowed, too, wholly by the munificence of a single individual. A slight sketch of this Institution, which the writer has examined in all its details, will give an idea of what can be done, by showing what has actually been accomplished. This Institution[C] is under the supervision of a Board of Trustees, who hold the property in trust for the object to which it is devoted, and who have the power to fill their own vacancies. It is furnished with a noble and tasteful building, of stone, so liberal in dimensions and arrangement, that it can accommodate ninety pupils and teachers, giving one room to every two pupils, and all being so arranged, as to admit of thorough ventilation. This building is surrounded by extensive grounds, enclosed with handsome fences, where remains of the primeval forest still offer refreshing shade for juvenile sports. To secure adequate exercise for the pupils, two methods are adopted. By the first, each young lady is required to spend a certain portion of time in domestic employments, either in sweeping, dusting, setting and clearing tables, washing and ironing, or other household concerns. Let not the aristocratic mother and daughter express their dislike of such an arrangement, till they can learn how well it succeeds. Let them walk, as the writer has done, through the large airy halls, kept clean and in order by their fair occupants, to the washing and ironing-rooms. There they will see a long hall, conveniently fitted up with some thirty neatly-painted tubs, with a clean floor, and water conducted so as to save both labor and slopping. Let them see some thirty or forty merry girls, superintended by a motherly lady, chatting and singing, washing and starching, while every convenience is at hand, and every thing around is clean and comfortable. Two hours, thus employed, enable each young lady to wash the articles she used during the previous week, which is all that is demanded, while thus they are all practically initiated into the arts and mysteries of the wash-tub. The Superintendent remarked to the writer, that, after a few weeks of probation, most of her young washers succeeded quite as well as those whom she could hire, and who made it their business. Adjacent to the washing-room, is the ironing establishment; where another class are arranged, on the ironing-day, around long, extended tables, with heating-furnaces, clothes-frames, and all needful appliances. By a systematic arrangement of school and domestic duties, a moderate portion of time, usually not exceeding two hours a day, from each of the pupils, accomplished all the domestic labor of a family of ninety, except the cooking, which was done by two hired domestics. This part of domestic labor it was deemed inexpedient to incorporate as a portion of the business of the pupils, inasmuch as it could not be accommodated to the arrangements of the school, and was in other respects objectionable. Is it asked, how can young ladies paint, play the piano, and study, when their hands and dresses must be unfitted by such drudgery? The woman who asks this question, has yet to learn that a pure and delicate skin is better secured by healthful exercise, than by any other method; and that a young lady, who will spend two hours a day at the wash-tub, or with a broom, is far more likely to have rosy cheeks, a finely-moulded form, and a delicate skin, than one who lolls all day in her parlor or chamber, or only leaves it, girt in tight dresses, to make fashionable calls. It is true, that long-protracted daily labor hardens the hand, and unfits it for delicate employments; but the amount of labor needful for health produces no such effect. As to dress, and appearance, if neat and convenient accommodations are furnished, there is no occasion for the exposures which demand shabby dresses. A dark calico, genteelly made, with an oiled-silk apron, and wide cuffs of the same material, secures both good looks and good service. This plan of domestic employments for the pupils in this Institution, not only secures regular healthful exercise, but also aids to reduce the expenses of education, so that, with the help of the endowments, it is brought within the reach of many, who otherwise could never gain such advantages. In addition to this, a system of Calisthenic[D] exercises is introduced, which secures all the advantages which dancing is supposed to effect, and which is free from the dangerous tendencies of that fascinating and fashionable amusement. This system is so combined with music, and constantly varying evolutions, as to serve as an amusement, and also as a mode of curing distortions, particularly all tendencies to curvature of the spine; while, at the same time, it tends to promote grace of movement, and easy manners. Another advantage of this Institution, is, an elevated and invigorating course of mental discipline. Many persons seem to suppose, that the chief object of an intellectual education is the acquisition of knowledge. But it will be found, that this is only a secondary object. The formation of habits of investigation, of correct reasoning, of persevering attention, of regular system, of accurate analysis, and of vigorous mental action, is the primary object to be sought in preparing American women for their arduous duties; duties which will demand not only quickness of perception, but steadiness of purpose, regularity of system, and perseverance in action. It is for such purposes, that the discipline of the Mathematics is so important an element in female education; and it is in this aspect, that the mere acquisition of facts, and the attainment of accomplishments, should be made of altogether secondary account. In the Institution here described, a systematic course of study is adopted, as in our colleges; designed to occupy three years. The following slight outline of the course, will exhibit the liberal plan adopted in this respect. In Mathematics, the whole of Arithmetic contained in the larger works used in schools, the whole of Euclid, and such portions from Day's Mathematics as are requisite to enable the pupils to demonstrate the various problems in Olmsted's larger work on Natural Philosophy. In Language, besides English Grammar, a short course in Latin is required, sufficient to secure an understanding of the philosophy of the language, and that kind of mental discipline which the exercise of translating affords. In Philosophy, Chemistry, Astronomy, Botany, Geology and Mineralogy, Intellectual and Moral Philosophy, Political Economy, and the Evidences of Christianity, the same textbooks are used as are required at our best colleges. In Geography, the most thorough course is adopted; and in History, a more complete knowledge is secured, by means of charts and textbooks, than most of our colleges offer. To these branches, are added Griscom's Physiology,[E] Bigelow's Technology, and Jahn's Archæology, together with a course of instruction in polite literature, for which Chambers's English Literature is employed as the text-book, each recitation being attended with selections and criticisms, from teacher or pupils, on the various authors brought into notice. Vocal Music, on the plan of the Boston Academy, is a part of the daily instructions. Linear drawing, and pencilling, are designed also to be a part of the course. Instrumental Music is taught, but not as a part of the regular course of study. To secure the proper instruction in all these branches, the division of labor, adopted in colleges, is pursued. Each teacher has distinct branches as her department, for which she is responsible, and in which she is independent. One teacher performs the duties of a _governess_, in maintaining rules, and attending to the habits and manners of the pupils. By this method, the teachers have sufficient time, both to prepare themselves, and to impart instruction and illustration in the class-room. In this Institution it is made a direct object of effort _to cure defects_ of _character and habits_. At the frequent meetings of the Principal and teachers, the peculiarities of each pupil are made the subjects of inquiry; and methods are devised for remedying defects through the personal influence of the several teachers. This, when thus made a direct object of combined effort, often secures results most gratifying and encouraging. One peculiarity of this Institution demands consideration. By the method adopted here, the exclusive business of educating their own sex is, as it ever ought to be, confined to females. The Principal of the Institution, indeed, is a gentleman; but, while he takes the position of a father of the family, and responsible head of the whole concern, the entire charge of instruction, and most of the responsibilities in regard to health, morals, and manners, rest upon the female teachers, in their several departments. The Principal is the chaplain and religious teacher; and is a member of the board of instructors, so far as to have a right to advise, and an equal vote, in every question pertaining to the concerns of the School; and thus he acts as a sort of regulator and mainspring in all the various departments. But no one person in the Institution is loaded with the excessive responsibilities, which rest upon one, where a large institution of this kind has a Principal, who employs and directs all the subordinate assistants. The writer has never before seen the principle of the division of labor and responsibility so perfectly carried out in any female institution; and she believes that experience will prove that this is the true model for combining, in appropriate proportions, the agency of both sexes in carrying forward such an institution. There are cases where females are well qualified, and feel willing to take the place occupied by the Principal; but such cases are rare. One thing more should be noticed, to the credit of the rising State where this Institution is located. A female association has been formed, embracing a large portion of the ladies of standing and wealth, the design of which, is, to educate, gratuitously, at this, and other similar, institutions, such females as are anxious to obtain a good education, and are destitute of the means. If this enterprise is continued, with the same energy and perseverance as has been manifested during the last few years, that State will take the lead of her sister States in well-educated women; and if the views in the preceding pages are correct, this will give her precedence in every intellectual and moral advantage. Many, who are not aware of the great economy secured by a proper division of labor, will not understand how so extensive a course can be properly completed in three years. But in this Institution, none are received under fourteen; and a certain amount of previous acquisition is required, in order to admission, as is done in our colleges. This secures a diminution of classes, so that but few studies are pursued at one time; while the number of well-qualified teachers is so adequate, that full time is afforded for all needful instruction and illustration. Where teachers have so many classes, that they merely have time to find out what the pupils learn from books, without any aid from their teachers, the acquisitions of the pupils are vague and imperfect, and soon pass away; so that an immense amount of expense, time, and labor, is spent in acquiring or recalling what is lost about as fast as it is gained. Parents are little aware of the immense waste incurred by the present mode of conducting female education. In the wealthy classes, young girls are sent to school, as a matter of course, year after year, confined, for six hours a day, to the schoolhouse, and required to add some time out of school to learning their lessons. Thus, during the most critical period of life, they are for a long time immured in a room, filled with an atmosphere vitiated by many breaths, and are constantly kept under some sort of responsibility in regard to mental effort. Their studies are pursued at random, often changed with changing schools, while book after book (heavily taxing the parent's purse) is conned awhile, and then supplanted by others. Teachers have usually so many pupils, and such a variety of branches to teach, that little time can be afforded to each pupil; while scholars, at this thoughtless period of life, feeling sure of going to school as long as they please, manifest little interest in their pursuits. The writer believes that the actual amount of education, permanently secured by most young ladies from the age of ten to fourteen, could all be acquired in one year, at the Institution described, by a young lady at the age of fifteen or sixteen. Instead of such a course as the common one, if mothers would keep their daughters as their domestic assistants, until they are fourteen, requiring them to study one lesson, and go out, once a day, to recite it to a teacher, it would abundantly prepare them, after their constitutions are firmly established, to enter such an institution, where, in three years, they could secure more, than almost any young lady in the Country now gains by giving the whole of her youth to school pursuits. In the early years of female life, reading, writing, needlework, drawing, and music, should alternate with domestic duties; and one hour a day, devoted to some study, in addition to the above pursuits, would be all that is needful to prepare them for a thorough education after growth is attained, and the constitution established. This is the time when young women would feel the value of an education, and pursue their studies with that maturity of mind, and vividness of interest, which would double the perpetuity and value of all their acquisitions. The great difficulty, which opposes such a plan, is, the want of institutions that would enable a young lady to complete, in three years, the liberal course of study, here described. But if American mothers become convinced of the importance of such advantages for their daughters, and will use their influence appropriately and efficiently, they will certainly be furnished. There are other men of liberality and wealth, besides the individual referred to, who can be made to feel that a fortune, expended in securing an appropriate education to American women, is as wisely bestowed, as in founding colleges for the other sex, who are already so abundantly supplied. We ought to have institutions, similar to the one described, in every part of this Nation; and funds should be provided, for educating young women destitute of means: and if American women think and feel, that, by such a method, their own trials will be lightened, and their daughters will secure a healthful constitution and a thorough domestic and intellectual education, the appropriate expression of their wishes will secure the necessary funds. The tide of charity, which has been so long flowing from the female hand to provide a liberal education for young men, will flow back with abundant remuneration. The last method suggested for lessening the evils peculiar to American women, is, a decided effort to oppose the aristocratic feeling, that labor is degrading; and to bring about the impression, that it is refined and lady-like to engage in domestic pursuits. In past ages, and in aristocratic countries, leisure and indolence and frivolous pursuits have been deemed lady-like and refined, because those classes, which were most refined, countenanced such an opinion. But whenever ladies of refinement, as a general custom, patronise domestic pursuits, then these employments will be deemed lady-like. It may be urged, however, that it is impossible for a woman who cooks, washes, and sweeps, to appear in the dress, or acquire the habits and manners, of a lady; that the drudgery of the kitchen is dirty work, and that no one can appear delicate and refined, while engaged in it. Now all this depends on circumstances. If a woman has a house, destitute of neat and convenient facilities; if she has no habits of order and system; if she is remiss and careless in person and dress;--then all this may be true. But, if a woman will make some sacrifices of costly ornaments in her parlor, in order to make her kitchen neat and tasteful; if she will sacrifice expensive dishes, in order to secure such conveniences for labor as protect from exposures; if she will take pains to have the dresses, in which she works, made of suitable materials, and in good taste; if she will rise early, and systematize and oversee the work of her family, so as to have it done thoroughly, neatly, and in the early part of the day; she will find no necessity for any such apprehensions. It is because such work has generally been done by vulgar people, and in a vulgar way, that we have such associations; and when ladies manage such things, as ladies should, then such associations will be removed. There are pursuits, deemed very refined and genteel, which involve quite as much exposure as kitchen employments. For example, to draw a large landscape, in colored crayons, would be deemed very lady-like; but the writer can testify, from sad experience, that no cooking, washing, sweeping, or any other domestic duty, ever left such deplorable traces on hands, face, and dress, as this same lady-like pursuit. Such things depend entirely on custom and associations; and every American woman, who values the institutions of her Country, and wishes to lend her influence in extending and perpetuating such blessings, may feel that she is doing this, whenever, by her example and influence, she destroys the aristocratic association, which would render domestic labor degrading. FOOTNOTES: [C] The writer omits the name of this Institution, lest an inference should be drawn which would be unjust to other institutions. There are others equally worthy of notice, and the writer selects this only because her attention was especially directed to it as being in a new State, and endowed wholly by an individual. [D] From two Greek words,--[Greek: kalos], _kalos_, beauty, and [Greek: sthenos], _sthenos_, strength, being the union of both. The writer is now preparing for the press, an improved system, of her own invention, which, in _some_ of its parts, has been successfully introduced into several female seminaries, with advantage. This plan combines singing with a great variety of amusing and graceful evolutions, designed to promote both health and easy manners. [E] This work, which has gone through numerous editions, and been received by the public with great favour, forms No. lxxxv. of the "Family Library," and No. lvii. of the "School District Library," issued by the publishers of this volume. It is abundantly illustrated by engravings, and has been extensively introduced as a school text-book. CHAPTER IV. ON DOMESTIC ECONOMY AS A BRANCH OF STUDY. The greatest impediment to making Domestic Economy a branch of study, is, the fact, that neither parents nor teachers realize the importance, or the practicability of constituting it a regular part of school education. It is with reference to this, that the first aim of the writer will be, to point out some of the reasons for introducing Domestic Economy as a branch of female education, to be studied at school. The first reason, is, that there is no period, in a young lady's life, when she will not find such knowledge useful to herself and to others. The state of domestic service, in this Country, is so precarious, that there is scarcely a family, in the free States, of whom it can be affirmed, that neither sickness, discontent, nor love of change, will deprive them of all their domestics, so that every female member of the family will be required to lend some aid, in providing food and the conveniences of living; and the better she is qualified to render it, the happier she will be, and the more she will contribute to the enjoyment of others. A second reason, is, that every young lady, at the close of her schooldays, and even before they are closed, is liable to be placed in a situation, in which she will need to do, herself, or to teach others to do, all the various processes and duties detailed in this work. That this may be more fully realized, the writer will detail some instances, which have come under her own observation. The eldest daughter of a family returned from school, on a visit, at sixteen years of age. Before her vacation had closed, her mother was laid in the grave; and such were her father's circumstances, that she was obliged to assume the cares and duties of her lost parent. The care of an infant, the management of young children, the superintendence of domestics, the charge of family expenses, the responsibility of entertaining company, and the many other cares of the family state, all at once came upon this young and inexperienced schoolgirl. Again; a young lady went to reside with a married sister, in a distant State. While on this visit, the elder sister died, and there was no one but this young lady to fill the vacant place, and assume all the cares of the nursery, parlor, and kitchen. Again; a pupil of the writer, at the end of her schooldays, married, and removed to the West. She was an entire novice in all domestic matters; an utter stranger in the place to which she removed. In a year, she became a mother, and _her health failed_; while, for most of the time, she had no domestics, at all, or only Irish or Germans, who scarcely knew even the names, or the uses, of many cooking utensils. She was treated with politeness by her neighbors, and wished to return their civilities; but how could this young and delicate creature, who had spent all her life at school, or in visiting and amusement, take care of her infant, attend to her cooking, washing, ironing, and baking, the concerns of her parlor, chambers, kitchen, and cellar, and yet visit and receive company? If there is any thing that would make a kindly heart ache, with sorrow and sympathy, it would be to see so young, so amiable, so helpless a martyr to the mistaken system of female education now prevalent. "I have the kindest of husbands," said the young wife, after her narrative of sufferings, "and I never regretted my marriage; but, since this babe was born, I have never had a single waking hour of freedom from anxiety and care. O! how little young girls know what is before them, when they enter married life!" Let the mother or teacher, whose eye may rest on these lines, ask herself, if there is no cause for fear that the young objects of her care may be thrown into similar emergencies, where they may need a kind of preparation, which as yet has been withheld. Another reason for introducing such a subject, as a distinct branch of school education, is, that, as a general fact, young ladies _will not_ be taught these things in any other way. In reply to the thousand-times-repeated remark, that girls must be taught their domestic duties by their mothers, at home, it may be inquired, in the first place, What proportion of mothers are qualified to teach a _proper_ and _complete_ system of Domestic Economy? When this is answered, it may be asked, What proportion of those who are qualified, have that sense of the importance of such instructions, and that energy and perseverance which would enable them actually to teach their daughters, in all the branches of Domestic Economy presented in this work? It may then be asked, How many mothers _actually do_ give their daughters instruction in the various branches of Domestic Economy? Is it not the case, that, owing to ill health, deficiency of domestics, and multiplied cares and perplexities, a large portion of the most intelligent mothers, and those, too, who most realize the importance of this instruction, actually cannot find the time, and have not the energy, necessary to properly perform the duty? They are taxed to the full amount of both their mental and physical energies, and cannot attempt any thing more. Almost every woman knows, that it is easier to do the work, herself, than it is to teach an awkward and careless novice; and the great majority of women, in this Country, are obliged to do almost every thing in the shortest and easiest way. This is one reason why the daughters of very energetic and accomplished housekeepers are often the most deficient in these respects; while the daughters of ignorant or inefficient mothers, driven to the exercise of their own energies, often become the most systematic and expert. It may be objected, that such things cannot be taught by books. This position may fairly be questioned. Do not young ladies learn, from books, how to make hydrogen and oxygen? Do they not have pictures of furnaces, alembics, and the various utensils employed in _cooking_ the chemical agents? Do they not study the various processes of mechanics, and learn to understand and to do many as difficult operations, as any that belong to housekeeping? All these things are explained, studied, and recited in classes, when every one knows that little practical use can ever be made of this knowledge. Why, then, should not that science and art, which a woman is to practise during her whole life, be studied and recited? It may be urged, that, even if it is studied, it will soon be forgotten. And so will much of every thing studied at school. But why should that knowledge, most needful for daily comfort, most liable to be in demand, be the only study omitted, because it may be forgotten? It may also be objected, that young ladies can get such books, and attend to them out of school. And so they can get books on Chemistry and Philosophy, and study them out of school; but _will_ they do it? And why ought we not to make sure of the most necessary knowledge, and let the less needful be omitted? If young ladies study such a work as this, in school, they will remember a great part of it; and, when they forget, in any emergency, they will know where to resort for instruction. But if such books are not put into schools, probably not one in twenty will see or hear of them, especially in those retired places where they are most needed. And is it at all probable, that a branch, which is so lightly esteemed as to be deemed unworthy a place in the list of female studies, will be sought for and learned by young girls, who so seldom look into works of solid instruction after they leave school? So deeply is the writer impressed with the importance of this, as a branch of female education, at school, that she would deem it far safer and wiser to omit any other, rather than this. Another reason, for introducing such a branch of study into female schools, is, the influence it would exert, in leading young ladies more correctly to estimate the importance and dignity of domestic knowledge. It is now often the case, that young ladies rather pride themselves on their ignorance of such subjects; and seem to imagine that it is vulgar and ungenteel to know how to work. This is one of the relics of an aristocratic state of society, which is fast passing away. Here, the tendency of every thing is to the equalisation of labor, so that all classes are feeling, more and more, that indolence is disreputable. And there are many mothers, among the best educated and most wealthy classes, who are bringing up their daughters, not only to know how to do, but actually to do, all kinds of domestic work. The writer knows young ladies, who are daughters of men of wealth and standing, and who are among the most accomplished in their sphere, who have for months been sent to work with a mantuamaker, to acquire a practical knowledge of her occupation, and who have at home learned to perform all kinds of domestic labor. And let the young women of this Nation find, that Domestic Economy is placed, in schools, on equal or superior ground to Chemistry, Philosophy, and Mathematics, and they will blush to be found ignorant of its first principles, as much as they will to hesitate respecting the laws of gravity, or the composition of the atmosphere. But, as matters are now conducted, many young ladies know how to make oxygen and hydrogen, and to discuss questions of Philosophy or Political Economy, far better than they know how to make a bed and sweep a room properly; and they can "construct a diagram" in Geometry, with far more skill than they can make the simplest article of female dress. It may be urged, that the plan suggested by the writer, in the previous pages, would make such a book as this needless; for young ladies would learn all these things at home, before they go to school. But it must be remembered, that the plan suggested cannot fully be carried into effect, till such endowed institutions, as the one described, are universally furnished. This probably will not be done, till at least one generation of young women are educated. It is only on the supposition that a young lady can, at fourteen or fifteen years of age, enter such an institution, and continue there three years, that it would be easy to induce her to remain, during all the previous period, at home, in the practice of Domestic Economy, and the limited course of study pointed out. In the present imperfect, desultory, varying, mode of female education, where studies are begun, changed, partially learned, and forgotten, it requires nearly all the years of a woman's youth, to acquire the intellectual education now demanded. While this state of things continues, the only remedy is, to introduce Domestic Economy as a study at school. It is hoped that these considerations will have weight, not only with parents and teachers, but with young ladies themselves, and that all will unite their influence to introduce this, as a popular and universal branch of education, into every female school. CHAPTER V. ON THE CARE OF HEALTH. There is no point, where a woman is more liable to suffer from a want of knowledge and experience, than in reference to the health of a family committed to her care. Many a young lady, who never had any charge of the sick; who never took any care of an infant; who never obtained information on these subjects from books, or from the experience of others; in short, with little or no preparation; has found herself the principal attendant in dangerous sickness, the chief nurse of a feeble infant, and the responsible guardian of the health of a whole family. The care, the fear, the perplexity, of a woman, suddenly called to these unwonted duties, none can realize, till they themselves feel it, or till they see some young and anxious novice first attempting to meet such responsibilities. To a woman of age and experience, these duties often involve a measure of trial and difficulty, at times deemed almost insupportable; how hard, then, must they press on the heart of the young and inexperienced! There is no really efficacious mode of preparing a woman to take a _rational_ care of the health of a family, except by communicating that knowledge, in regard to the construction of the body, and the laws of health, which is the basis of the medical profession. Not that a woman should undertake the minute and extensive investigation requisite for a physician; but she should gain a general knowledge of first principles, as a guide to her judgement in emergencies when she can rely on no other aid. Therefore, before attempting to give any specific directions on the subject of this chapter, a short sketch of the construction of the human frame will be given, with a notice of some of the general principles, on which specific rules in regard to health are based. This description will be arranged under the general heads of BONES, MUSCLES, NERVES, BLOOD-VESSELS, ORGANS OF DIGESTION AND RESPIRATION, and THE SKIN. BONES. The bones are the most solid parts of the body. They are designed to protect and sustain it, and also to secure voluntary motion. They are about two hundred and fifty in number, (there being sometimes a few more or less,) and are fastened together by cartilage, or gristle, a substance like the bones, but softer, and more elastic. In order to convey a more clear and correct idea of the form, relative position, and connection, of the bones constituting the human framework, the engraving on page 70, (Fig. 1,) is given. [Illustration: Fig. 1.] By the preceding engraving, it will be seen, that the _cranium_, or _skull_, consists of several distinct pieces, which are united by sutures, (or seams,) as represented by the zigzag lines; _a_, being the _frontal bone_; _b_, the _parietal bone_; _c_, the _temporal bone_; and _d_, the place of the _occipital bone_, which forms the back part of the head, and therefore is not seen in the engraving. The _nasal bones_, or bones of the nose, are shown at _e_; _f_, is the _cheek bone_; _g_, the _upper_, and _h_, the _lower, jaw bones_; _i_, _i_, the _spinal column_, or back bone, consisting of numerous small bones, called _vertebræ_; _j_, _j_, the seven _true ribs_, which are fastened to the spine, behind, and by the _cartilages_, _k_, _k_, to the _sternum_, or _breast bone_, _l_, in front; _m_, _m_, are the first three _false ribs_, which are so called, because they are not united directly to the breast bone, but by cartilages to the seventh true rib; _n_, _n_, are the lower two _false_, which are also called _floating, ribs_, because they are not connected with the breast bone, nor the other ribs, in front; _o_, _o_, _p_, _q_, are the bones of the _pelvis_, which is the foundation on which the spine rests; _r_, _r_, are the _collar bones_; _s_, _s_, the _shoulder blades_; _t_, _t_, the bones of the _upper arm_; _u_, _u_, the _elbow joints_, where the bones of the upper arm and fore arm are united in such a way that they can move like a hinge; _v_ _w_, _v_ _w_, are the bones of the _fore arm_; _x_, _x_, those of the _wrists_; _y_, _y_, those of the _fingers_; _z_, _z_, are the round heads of the thigh bones, where they are inserted into the sockets of the bones of the pelvis, giving motion in every direction, and forming the _hip joint_; a b, a b, are the _thigh bones_; c, c, the _knee joints_; d e, d e, the _leg bones_; f, f, the _ankle joints_; g, g, the _bones of the foot_. The bones are composed of two substances,--one animal, and the other mineral. The animal part is a very fine network, called the _cellular membrane_. In this, are deposited the harder mineral substances, which are composed principally of carbonate and phosphate of lime. In very early life, the bones consist chiefly of the animal part, and are then soft and pliant. As the child advances in age, the bones grow harder, by the gradual deposition of the phosphate of lime, which is supplied by the food, and carried to the bones by the blood. In old age, the hardest material preponderates; making the bones more brittle than in earlier life. As we shall soon have occasion to refer, particularly, to the spinal, or vertebral column, and the derangement to which it is liable, we give, on page 72, representations of the different classes of vertebræ; viz. the _cervical_, (from the Latin, _cervix_, the neck,) the _dorsal_, (from _dorsum_, the back,) and _lumbar_, (from _lumbus_, the loins.) [Illustration: Fig. 2.] Fig. 2, represents one of the _cervical vertebræ_. Seven of these, placed one above another, constitute that part of the spine which is in the neck. [Illustration: Fig. 3.] Fig. 3, is one of the _dorsal vertebræ_, twelve of which, form the central part of the spine. [Illustration: Fig. 4.] Fig. 4, represents one of the _lumbar vertebræ_, (five in number,) which are immediately above the sacrum. These vertebræ are so fastened, that the spine can bend, in any direction; and the muscles of the trunk are used in holding it erect, or in varying its movements. By the drawings here presented, it will be seen, that the vertebræ of the neck, back, and loins, differ somewhat in size and shape, although they all possess the same constituent parts; thus, A, in each, represents the body of the vertebræ; B, the articulating processes, by which each is joined to its fellow, above and below it; C, the spinous process, or that part of the vertebræ, which forms the ridge to be felt, on pressure, the whole length of the centre of the back. The back bone receives its name, _spine_, or _spinal column_, from these spinous processes. It is the universal law of the human frame, that _exercise_ is indispensable to the health of the several parts. Thus, if a blood-vessel be tied up, so as not to be used, it shrinks, and becomes a useless string; if a muscle be condemned to inaction, it shrinks in size, and diminishes in power; and thus it is also with the bones. Inactivity produces softness, debility, and unfitness for the functions they are designed to perform. This is one of the causes of the curvature of the spine, that common and pernicious defect in the females of America. From inactivity, the bones of the spine become soft and yielding; and then, if the person is often placed, for a length of time, in positions that throw the weight of the body unequally on certain portions of the spine, they yield to this frequent compression, and a distortion ensues. The positions taken by young persons, when learning to write or draw, or to play on the guitar, harp, or piano, and the position of the body when sleeping on one side, on high pillows, all tend to produce this effect, by throwing the weight of the body unequally, and for a length of time, on particular parts of the spine. [Illustration: Fig. 5.] MUSCLES. The muscles are the chief organs of motion, and consist of collections of fine fibres or strings, united in casings of membrane or thin skin. They possess an elastic power, like India rubber, which enables them to extend and contract. The red meat in animals consists of muscles. Every muscle has connected with it nerves, veins, and arteries; and those designed to move the bones, are fastened to them by tendons at their extremities. The muscles are laid over each other, and are separated by means of membranes and layers of fat, which enable them to move easily, without interfering with each other. The figure on page 74, represents the muscles of the arm, as they appear when the skin and fat are removed. The muscles _a_ and _b_ are attached, at their upper ends, to the bone of the arm, and by their lower ends to the upper part of the fore arm, near the elbow joint. When the fibres of these muscles contract, the middle part of them grows larger, and the arm is bent at the elbow. The muscle _c_, is, in like manner, fastened, by its upper end, to the shoulder blade and the upper part of the arm, and by its lower end to one of the bones of the fore arm, near the elbow. When the arm is bent, and we wish to straighten it, it is done by contracting this muscle. The muscles _d_, _d_, are fastened at one end near the elbow joint, and at the other near the ends of the fingers; and on the back of the hand are reduced in size, appearing like strong cords. These cords are called _tendons_. They are employed in straightening the fingers, when the hand is shut. These tendons are confined by the ligament or band, _e_, which binds them down, around the wrist, and thus enables them to act more efficiently, and secures beauty of form to the limb. The muscles at _f_, are those which enable us to turn the hand and arm outward. Every different motion of the arm has one muscle to produce it, and another to restore the limb to its natural position. Those muscles which bend the body are called _flexors_; those which straighten it, _extensors_. When the arm is thrown up, one set of muscles is used; to pull it down, another set: when it is thrown forward, a still different set is used; when it is thrown back, another, different from the former; when the arm turns in its socket, still another set is used; and thus every different motion of the body is made by a different set of muscles. All these muscles are compactly and skilfully arranged, so as to work with perfect ease. Among them, run the arteries, veins, and nerves, which supply each muscle with blood and nervous power, as will be hereafter described. The size and strength of the muscles depend greatly on their frequent exercise. If left inactive, they grow thin and weak, instead of giving the plumpness to the figure, designed by Nature. The delicate and feeble appearance of many American women, is chiefly owing to the little use they make of their muscles. Many a pale, puny, shad-shaped girl, would have become a plump, rosy, well-formed person, if half the exercise, afforded to her brothers in the open air, had been secured to her, during childhood and youth. NERVES. The nerves are the organs of sensation. They enable us to see, hear, feel, taste, and smell; and also combine with the bones and muscles in producing motion. The first engraving, on p. 77, (Fig. 6,) is a vertical section of the skull, and of the spinal column, or back bone, which supports the head, and through which runs the spinal cord, whence most of the nerves originate. It is a side view, and represents the head and spine, as they would appear, if they were cut through the middle, from front to back. Fig. 7, exhibits them as they would appear, if viewed from _behind_. In Fig. 6, _a_, represents the _cerebrum_, or great brain; _b_, the _cerebellum_, or little brain, which is situated directly under the great brain, at the back and lower part of the head; _c_, _d_, _e_, is the spinal marrow, which is connected with the brain at _c_, and runs through the whole length of the spinal column. This column consists, as has already been stated, of a large number of small bones, _f_, _f_, called _vertebræ_, laid one above another, and fastened together by _cartilage_, or _gristle_, _g_, between them. [Illustration: Fig. 6.] [Illustration: Fig. 7.] Between each two vertebræ, or spinal bones, there issues from the spine, on each side, a pair of nerves. The lower broad part of the spine, (see _p_, Fig. 1, p. 70, and Fig. 7, p. 77,) is called the _sacrum_; in this, are eight holes, through which the lower pairs of nerves pass off. The nerves of the head and lungs run directly from the brain; those of all other parts of the body proceed from the spine, passing out in the manner already mentioned. The nerves which thus proceed from the spine, branch out, like the limbs and twigs of a tree, till they extend over the whole body; and, so minutely are they divided and arranged, that a point, destitute of a nerve, cannot be found on the skin. Some idea of the ramifications of the nerves, may be obtained by reference to the following engraving, (Fig. 8.) In this, A, A, represents the _cerebrum_, or great brain; B, B, the _cerebellum_, or little brain; (see also _a_, _b_, in Fig. 6;) C, C, represents the union of the fibres of the cerebrum; D, D, the union of the two sides of the cerebellum; E, E, E, the spinal marrow, which passes through the centre of the spine, (as seen at _c_, _d_, _e_, in Fig. 6;) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, branches of the nerves going to different parts of the body. As the nerves are the organs of sensation, all _pain_ is an affection of some portion of the nerves. The health of the nerves depends very greatly on the exercise of the muscles, with which they are so intimately connected. This shows the reason why the _headache_, _tic douloureux_, diseases of the _spine_, and other nervous affections, are so common among American women. Their inactive habits, engender a debility of the nervous system, and these diseases follow, as the consequence. [Illustration: Fig. 8.] It can be seen, by a reference to the side view, represented on page 77, (Fig. 6,) that the spine is naturally curved back and forward. When, from want of exercise, its bones are softened, and the muscles weakened, the spine acquires an improper curve, and the person becomes what is called _crooked_, having the neck projected forward, and, in some cases, having the back convex, where it should be concave. Probably one half of the American women have the head thus projecting forward, instead of carrying it in the natural, erect position, which is both graceful and dignified. The curvature of the spine, spoken of in this work as so common, and as the cause of so many diseases among American women, is what is denominated the _lateral curvature_, and is much more dangerous than the other distortion. The indications of this evil, are, the projection of one shoulder blade more than the other, and, in bad cases, one shoulder being higher, and the hip on the opposite side more projecting, than the other. In this case, the spine, when viewed from behind, instead of running in a straight line, (as in Fig. 7 and 9,) is curved somewhat, as may be seen in Figures 10 and 11. This effect is occasioned by the softness of the bones, induced by want of exercise, together with tight dressing, which tends to weaken the muscles that are thus thrown out of use. Improper and long continued positions in drawing, writing, and sleeping, which throw the weight of the body on one part of the spine, induce the same evil. This distortion is usually accompanied with some consequent disease of the nervous system, or some disarrangement of the internal organs. By comparing Figures 9 and 11, the difference between a natural and distorted spine will be readily perceived. In Fig. 10, the curved line shows the course of the spine, occasioned by distortion; the perpendicular line, in this and Fig. 11, indicates the true direction of the spine; the horizontal lines show that one shoulder and hip are forced from their proper level. [Illustration: Fig. 9.] [Illustration: Fig. 10.] [Illustration: Fig. 11.] BLOOD-VESSELS. The blood is the fluid into which our food is changed, and which is employed to minister nourishment to the whole body. For this purpose, it is carried to every part of the body, by the arteries; and, after it has given out its nourishment, returns to the heart, through the veins. The subjoined engraving, (Fig. 12,) which presents a rude outline of the vascular system, will more clearly illustrate this operation, as we shall presently show. [Illustration: Fig. 12.] Before entering the heart, the blood receives a fresh supply of nourishment, by a duct which leads from the stomach. The arteries have their origin from the heart, in a great trunk, called the _aorta_, which is the parent of all the arteries, as the spinal marrow is the parent of the nerves which it sends out. When the arteries have branched out into myriads of minute vessels, the blood which is in them passes into as minute veins; and these run into each other, like the rills and branches of a river, until they are all united in two great veins, which run into the heart. One of these large receivers, called the _vena cava superior_, or _upper vena cava_, brings back the blood from the arms and head, the other, the _vena cava inferior_, or _lower vena cava_, brings back the blood from the body and lower limbs. In the preceding figure, H, is the heart, which is divided into four compartments; two, called _auricles_, used for receiving the blood, and two, called _ventricles_, used for sending out the blood. A, is the _aorta_, or great artery, which sends its branches to every part of the body. In the upper part, at _a_, _a_, _a_, are the main branches of the _aorta_, which go to the head and arms. Below, at _a_, _a_, are the branches which go to the lower limbs. The branches which set off at X, X, are those by which the intestines are supplied by vessels from the _aorta_. Every muscle in the whole body, all the organs of the body, and the skin, are supplied by branches sent off from this great _artery_. When the blood is thus dispersed through any organ, in minute vessels, it is received, at their terminations, by numerous minute veins, which gradually unite, forming larger branches, till they all meet in either the upper or lower _vena cava_, which returns the blood to the heart. V I, is the _vena cava inferior_, which receives the blood from the veins of the lower parts of the body, as seen at v, v. The blood, sent into the lower limbs from the _aorta_, is received by minute veins, which finally unite at v, v, and thus it is emptied through the lower _vena cava_ into the heart: _o_, _o_, represent the points of entrance of those tributaries of the _vena cava_, which receive that blood from the intestines, which is sent out by the _aorta_ at X, X. In the upper part, V S, is the _vena cava superior_, which receives the blood from the head and arms; v, v, v, are the tributaries of the upper _vena cava_, which bring the blood back from the head and arms; _d_, _d_, represents the course of the _thoracic duct_, a delicate tube by which the chyle is carried into the blood, as mentioned on page 89; _t_, shows the place where this duct empties into a branch of the _vena cava_. It thus appears, that wherever a branch of the _aorta_ goes to carry blood, there will be found a tributary of the upper or lower _vena cava_, to bring it back. The succeeding engravings, will enable the reader to form a more definite idea of this important function of the system,--the circulation of the blood. The heart, in man, and in all warm-blooded animals, is double, having two auricles and two ventricles. In animals with cold blood, (as fishes,) the heart is single, having but one auricle and one ventricle. Fig. 13, represents the double heart as it appears when the two sides are separated, and also the great blood-vessels; those on the left of the figure being on the right side of the body, and _vice versa_. The direction of the blood is represented by the arrows. A, represents the _lower vena cava_, returning the blood from the lower parts of the body, and L, the _upper vena cava_, returning the blood from the head and arms. B, is the _right sinus_, or _auricle_, into which the returned blood is poured. From this cavity of the heart, the blood is carried into the _right ventricle_, C; and from this ventricle, the _pulmonary arteries_, D, convey into the lungs the blood which is returned from the body. These five vessels, A, B, C, D, and L, belong to the right side of the heart, and contain the venous or dark-colored blood, which has been through the circulation, and is now unfit for the uses of the system, till it has passed through the lungs. [Illustration: Fig. 13.] When the blood reaches the lungs, and is exposed to the action of the air which we breathe, it throws off its impurities, becomes bright in color, and is then called arterial blood. It then returns to the left side of the heart, (on the right of the engraving,) by the pulmonary veins E, E, (also seen at _m_, _m_, Fig. 15,) into the left auricle F, whence it is forced into the ventricle, G. From the left ventricle, proceeds the _aorta_, H, H, which is the great artery of the body, and conveys the blood to every part of the system. I, J, K, are branches of the aorta, going to the head and arms. [Illustration: Fig. 14.] Fig. 14, represents the heart, with its two sides united as in nature; and will be understood from the description of Fig. 13. On the opposite page, Fig. 15, represents the heart, with the great blood-vessels, on a still larger scale; _a_, being the _left ventricle_; _b_, the _right ventricle_; _c_, _e_, _f_, the _aorta_, or great artery, rising out of the left ventricle; _g_, _h_, _i_, the branches of the aorta, going to the head and arms; _k_, _l_, _l_, the _pulmonary artery_, and its branches; _m_, _m_, _veins of the lungs_, which bring the blood back from the lungs to the heart; _n_, _right auricle_; _o_, _vena cava inferior_; _p_, veins returning blood from the liver and bowels; _q_, the _vena cava superior_; _r_, the _left auricle_; _s_, the left _coronary artery_, which distributes the blood exclusively to the substance of the heart. [Illustration: Fig. 15.] ORGANS OF DIGESTION AND RESPIRATION. Digestion and respiration are the processes, by which the food is converted into blood for the nourishment of the body. The engraving on the next page (Fig. 16) shows the organs by which these operations are performed. In the lower part of the engraving, is the stomach, marked S, which receives the food through the _gullet_, marked G. The latter, though in the engraving it is cut off at G, in reality continues upwards to the throat. The stomach is a bag composed of muscles, nerves, and blood-vessels, united by a material similar to that which forms the skin. As soon as food enters the stomach, its nerves are excited to perform their proper function of stimulating the muscles. A muscular (called the _peristaltic_) motion immediately commences, by which the stomach propels its contents around the whole of its circumference, once in every three minutes. [Illustration: Fig. 16.] This movement of the muscles attracts the blood from other parts of the system; for the blood always hastens to administer its supplies to any organ which is called to work. The blood-vessels of the stomach are soon distended with blood, from which the _gastric juice_ is secreted by minute vessels in the coat of the stomach. This mixes with the food, and reduces it to a soft pulpy mass, called chyme. It then passes through the lower end of the stomach, into the intestines, which are folded up in the abdomen, and the upper portion, only, of which, is shown in the engraving, at A, A. The organ marked L, L, is the liver, which, as the blood passes through its many vessels, secretes a substance called _bile_, which accumulates in the gall-bladder, marked B. After the food passes out of the stomach, it receives from the liver a portion of bile, and from the _pancreas_ the _pancreatic juice_. The pancreas does not appear in this drawing, being concealed behind the stomach. These two liquids separate the substance which has passed from the stomach, into two different portions. One is a light liquid, very much like cream in appearance, and called _chyle_, of which the blood is formed; the other is a more solid substance, which contains the refuse and useless matter, with a smaller portion of nourishment; and this, after being further separated from the nourishing matter which it contains, is thrown out of the body. There are multitudes of small vessels, called _lacteals_, which, as these two mixed substances pass through the long and winding folds of the intestines in the abdomen, absorb the chyle, and convey it to the _thoracic duct_, which runs up close by the spine, and carries the chyle, thus received, into a branch of the _vena cava superior_, at _t_, whence it is mingled with the blood going into the heart. In this engraving, the _lacteals_ and _thoracic duct_ are not shown; but their position is indicated by the dotted lines, marked X, Y; X, being the lacteals, and Y, the thoracic duct. In the upper half of the engraving, H represents the heart; _a_, the commencement of the _aorta_; _v c s_, the termination of the _vena cava superior_. On each side of the heart, are the lungs; _l l_, being the left lobe, and _r l_, the right lobe. They are composed of a network of air-vessels, blood-vessels, and nerves. W, represents the _trachea_, or _windpipe_, through which, the air we breathe is conducted to the lungs. It branches out into myriads of minute vessels, which are thus filled with air every time we breathe. From the heart, run the _pulmonary arteries_, marked _p a_. These enter the lungs and spread out along-side of the branches of the air-vessels, so that every air-vessel has a small artery running side by side with it. When the two _vena cavas_ empty the blood into the heart, the latter contracts, and sends this blood, through these pulmonary arteries, into the lungs. As the air and blood meander, side by side, through the lungs, the superabundant carbon and hydrogen of the blood combine with the oxygen of the air, forming carbonic acid gas, and water, which are thrown out of the lungs at every expiration. This is the process by which the chyle is converted into arterial blood, and the venous blood purified of its excess of carbon and hydrogen. When the blood is thus prepared, in the lungs, for its duties, it is received by the small _pulmonary veins_, which gradually unite, and bring the blood back to the heart, through the large _pulmonary veins_, marked _p v_, _p v_. On receiving this purified blood from the lungs, the heart contracts, and sends it out again, through the _aorta_, to all parts of the body. It then makes another circuit through every part, ministering to the wants of all, and is afterwards again brought back by the veins to receive the fresh chyle from the stomach, and to be purified by the lungs. The throbbing of the heart is caused by its alternate expansion and contraction, as it receives and expels the blood. With one throb, the blood is sent from the right ventricle into the lungs, and from the left ventricle into the aorta. Every time we inspire air, the process of purifying the blood is going on; and every time we expire the air, we throw out the redundant carbon and hydrogen, taken from a portion of the blood. If the waist is compressed by tight clothing, a portion of the lungs be compressed, so that the air-vessels cannot be filled. This prevents the perfect purification and preparation of the blood, so that a part returns back to the heart unfitted for its duties. This is a slow, but sure, method, by which the constitution of many a young lady is so undermined that she becomes an early victim to disease and to the decay of beauty and strength. The want of _pure air_ is another cause, of the debility of the female constitution. When air has been rendered impure, by the breath of several persons, or by close confinement, it does not purify the blood properly. Sleeping in close chambers, and sitting in crowded and unventilated schoolrooms, are frequent causes of debility in the constitution of young persons. OF THE SKIN. The skin is the covering of the body, and has very important functions to perform. It is more abundantly supplied with nerves and blood-vessels than any other part; and there is no spot of the skin where the point of the finest needle would not pierce a nerve and blood-vessel. Indeed, it may be considered as composed chiefly of an interlacing of minute nerves and blood-vessels, so that it is supposed there is more nervous matter in the skin, than in all the rest of the body united, and that the greater portion of the blood flows through the skin. The whole animal system is in a state of continual change and renovation. Food is constantly taken into the stomach, only a portion of which is fitted for the supply of the blood. All the rest has to be thrown out of the system, by various organs designed for this purpose. These organs are,--the lungs, which throw off a portion of useless matter when the blood is purified; the kidneys, which secrete liquids that pass into the bladder, and are thrown out from the body by that organ; and the intestines, which carry off the useless and more solid parts of the food, after the lacteals have drawn off the chyle. In addition to these organs, the skin has a similar duty to perform; and as it has so much larger a supply of blood, it is the chief organ in relieving the body of the useless and noxious parts of the materials which are taken for food. Various experiments show, that not less than a pound and four ounces of waste matter is thrown off by the skin every twenty-four hours. This is according to the lowest calculation. Most of those, who have made experiments to ascertain the quantity, represent it as much greater; and all agree, that the skin throws off more redundant matter from the body, than the whole of the other organs together. In the ordinary state of the skin, even when there is no apparent perspiration, it is constantly exhaling waste matter, in a form which is called _insensible perspiration_, because it cannot be perceived by the senses. A very cool mirror, brought suddenly near to the skin, will be covered, in that part, with a moisture, which is this effluvium thus made visible. When heat or exercise excites the skin, this perspiration is increased, so as to be apparent to the senses. This shows the reason why it is so important frequently to wash the entire surface of the body. If this be neglected, the pores of the skin are closed by the waste matter thrown from the body, and by small particles of the thin scarfskin, so that it cannot properly perform its duties. In this way, the other organs are made to work harder, in order to perform the labor the skin would otherwise accomplish, and thus the lungs and bowels are often essentially weakened. Another office of the skin, is, to regulate the heat of the body. The action of the internal organs is constantly generating heat; and the faster the blood circulates, the greater is the heat evolved. The perspiration of the skin serves to reduce and regulate this heat. For, whenever any liquid changes to a vapor, it absorbs heat from whatever is nearest to it. The faster the blood flows, the more perspiration is evolved. This bedews the skin with a liquid, which the heat of the body turns to a vapor; and in this change, that heat is absorbed. When a fever takes place, this perspiration ceases, and the body is afflicted with heat. Insensible perspiration is most abundant during sleep, after eating, and when friction is applied to the skin. Perspiration is performed by the terminations of minute arteries in every part of the skin, which exude the perspiration from the blood. The skin also performs another function. It is provided with a set of small vessels, called _absorbents_, which are exceedingly abundant and minute. When particular substances are brought in contact with the skin, these absorbents take up some portions and carry them into the blood. It is owing to this, that opium, applied on the skin, acts in a manner similar to its operation when taken into the stomach. The power of absorption is increased by friction; and this is the reason that liniments are employed, with much rubbing, to bruises and sprains. The substance applied is thus introduced into the injured part, through the absorbents. This shows another reason for frequent washing of the skin, and for the frequent changes of the garment next the skin. Otherwise portions of the noxious matter, thrown out by the skin, are reabsorbed into the blood, and are slow but sure causes of a decay of the strength of the system. The skin is also provided with small follicles, or bags, which are filled with an oily substance. This, by gradually exuding over the skin, prevents water from penetrating and injuring its texture. The skin is also the organ of touch. This office is performed through the instrumentality of the nerves of feeling, which are spread over all parts of the skin. This general outline of the construction of the human frame is given, with reference to the practical application of this knowledge in the various cases where a woman will be called upon to exercise her own unaided judgement. The application will be further pointed out, in the chapters on Food, Dress, Cleanliness, Care of the Sick, and Care of Infants. CHAPTER VI. ON HEALTHFUL FOOD. The person who decides what shall be the food and drink of a family, and the modes of preparation, is the one who decides, to a greater or less extent, what shall be the health of that family. It is the opinion of most medical men, that intemperance in eating is the most fruitful of all causes of disease and death. If this be so, the woman who wisely adapts the food and cooking of her family to the laws of health, removes the greatest risk which threatens the lives of those under her care. To exhibit this subject clearly, it will be needful to refer, more minutely, to the organization and operation of the digestive organs. It is found, by experiment, that the supply of gastric juice, furnished from the blood, by the arteries of the stomach, is proportioned, not to the amount of food put into the stomach, but to the wants of the body; so that it is possible to put much more into the stomach than can be digested. To guide and regulate in this matter, the sensation called _hunger_ is provided. In a healthy state of the body, as soon as the blood has lost its nutritive supplies, the craving of hunger is felt, and then, if the food is suitable, and is taken in the proper manner, this sensation ceases, as soon as the stomach has received enough to supply the wants of the system. But our benevolent Creator, in this, as in our other duties, has connected enjoyment with the operation needful to sustain our bodies. In addition to the allaying of hunger, the gratification of the palate is secured, by the immense variety of food, some articles of which are far more agreeable than others. This arrangement of Providence, designed for our happiness, has become, either through ignorance, or want of self-control, the chief cause of the various diseases and sufferings, which afflict those classes who have the means of seeking a variety to gratify the palate. If mankind had only one article of food, and only water to drink, though they would have less enjoyment in eating, they would never be tempted to put any more into the stomach, than the calls of hunger required. But the customs of society, which present an incessant change, and a great variety of food, with those various condiments which stimulate appetite, lead almost every person very frequently to eat merely to gratify the palate, after the stomach has been abundantly supplied, so that hunger has ceased. When too great a supply of food is put into the stomach, the gastric juice dissolves only that portion which the wants of the system demand. The remainder is ejected, in an unprepared state; the absorbents take portions of it into the system; and all the various functions of the body, which depend on the ministries of the blood, are thus gradually and imperceptibly injured. Very often, intemperance in eating produces immediate results, such as colic, headaches, pains of indigestion, and vertigo. But the more general result, is, a gradual undermining of all parts of the human frame; thus imperceptibly shortening life, by so weakening the constitution, that it is ready to yield, at every point, to any uncommon risk or exposure. Thousands and thousands are passing out of the world, from diseases occasioned by exposures, which a healthy constitution could meet without any danger. It is owing to these considerations, that it becomes the duty of every woman, who has the responsibility of providing food for a family, to avoid a variety of tempting dishes. It is a much safer rule, to have only one kind of healthy food, for each meal, than the abundant variety which is usually met at the tables of almost all classes in this Country. When there is to be any variety of dishes, they ought not to be successive, but so arranged, as to give the opportunity of selection. How often is it the case, that persons, by the appearance of a favorite article, are tempted to eat, merely to gratify the palate, when the stomach is already adequately supplied. All such intemperance wears on the constitution, and shortens life. It not unfrequently happens, that excess in eating produces a morbid appetite, which must constantly be denied. But the organization of the digestive organs demands, not only that food be taken in proper quantities, but that it be taken at proper times. It has before been shown, that, as soon as the food enters the stomach, the muscles are excited by the nerves, and the _peristaltic motion_ commences. This is a powerful and constant exercise of the muscles of the stomach, which continues until the process of digestion is complete. During this time, the blood is withdrawn from other parts of the system, to supply the demands of the stomach, which is laboring hard with all its muscles. When this motion ceases, and the digested food has gradually passed out of the stomach, Nature requires that it should have a period of repose. And if another meal be eaten, immediately after one is digested, the stomach is set to work again, before it has had time to rest, and before a sufficient supply of gastric juice is provided. The general rule, then, is, that three hours be given to the stomach for labor, and two for rest; and in obedience to this, five hours, at least, ought to elapse between every two regular meals. In cases where exercise produces a flow of perspiration, more food is needed to supply the loss; and strong laboring men may safely eat as often as they feel the want of food. So, young and healthy children, who gambol and exercise much, and whose bodies grow fast, may have a more frequent supply of food. But, as a general rule, meals should be five hours apart, and eating between meals avoided. There is nothing more unsafe, and wearing to the constitution, than a habit of eating at any time, merely to gratify the palate. When a tempting article is presented, every person should exercise sufficient self-denial, to wait till the proper time for eating arrives. Children, as well as grown persons, are often injured, by eating between their regular meals, thus weakening the stomach, by not affording it any time for rest. In deciding as to _quantity_ of food, there is one great difficulty to be met by a large portion of the community. It has been shown, that the exercise of every part of the body is indispensable to its health and perfection. The bones, the muscles, the nerves, the organs of digestion and respiration, and the skin, all demand exercise, in order properly to perform their functions. When the muscles of the body are called into action, all the blood-vessels entwined among them are frequently compressed. As the arteries are so contrived, that the blood cannot run back, this compression hastens it forward, through the veins, towards that organ. The heart is immediately put in quicker motion, to send it into the lungs; and they, also, are thus stimulated to more rapid action, which is the cause of that panting which active exercise always occasions. The blood thus courses with greater celerity through the body, and sooner loses its nourishing properties. Then the stomach issues its mandate of hunger, and a new supply of food must be furnished. Thus it appears, as a general rule, that the quantity of food, actually needed by the body, depends on the amount of muscular exercise taken. A laboring man, in the open fields, probably throws off from his skin ten times the amount of perspirable matter, which is evolved from the skin of a person of sedentary pursuits. In consequence of this, he demands a far greater amount of food and drink. Those persons, who keep their bodies in a state of health, by sufficient exercise, can always be guided by the calls of hunger. They can eat when they feel hungry, and stop when hunger ceases; and then they will calculate exactly right. But the difficulty is, that a large part of the community, especially women, are so inactive in their habits, that they seldom feel the calls of hunger. They habitually eat, merely to gratify the palate. This produces such a state of the system, that they have lost the guide which Nature has provided. They are not called to eat, by hunger, nor admonished, by its cessation, when to stop. In consequence of this, such persons eat what pleases the palate, till they feel no more inclination for the article. It is probable, that three fourths of the women, in the wealthier circles, sit down to each meal without any feeling of hunger, and eat merely on account of the gratification thus afforded them. Such persons find their appetite to depend almost solely upon the kind of food on the table. This is not the case with those, who take the exercise which Nature demands. They approach their meals in such a state that almost any kind of food is acceptable. The question then arises, how are persons, who have lost the guide which Nature has provided, to determine as to the proper amount of food they shall take? The only rules they can adopt, are of a general nature; founded on the principles already developed. They should endeavor to proportion their food to the amount of the exercise they ordinarily take. If they take but little exercise, they should eat but little food in comparison with those who are much in the open air and take much exercise; and their food should be chiefly vegetable, and not animal. But how often is it seen, that a student, or a man who sits all day in an office, or a lady who spends the day in her parlor and chamber, will sit down to a loaded table, and, by continuing to partake of the tempting varieties, in the end load the stomach with a supply, which a stout farmer could scarcely digest. But the health of a family depends, not merely on the _quantity_ of food taken; but very much, also, on the _quality_. Some kinds of food are very pernicious in their nature, and some healthful articles are rendered very injurious by the mode of cooking. Persons who have a strong constitution, and take much exercise, may eat almost any thing, with apparent impunity; but young children, who are forming their constitutions, and persons who are delicate, and who take but little exercise, are very dependent for health, on a proper selection of food. There are some general principles, which may aid in regulating the judgement on this subject. It is found, that there are some kinds of food which afford nutriment to the blood, and do not produce any other effect on the system. There are other kinds, which are not only nourishing, but _stimulating_, so that they quicken the functions of the organs on which they operate. The condiments used in cookery, such as pepper, mustard, and spices, are of this nature. There are certain states of the system, when these stimulants are beneficial; but it is only in cases where there is some debility. Such cases can only be pointed out by medical men. But persons in perfect health, and especially young children, never receive any benefit from such kind of food; and just in proportion as condiments operate to quicken the labors of the internal organs, they tend to wear down their powers. A person who thus keeps the body working under an unnatural excitement, _lives faster_ than Nature designed, and the sooner the constitution is worn out. A woman, therefore, should provide dishes for her family, which are free from these stimulating condiments, and as much as possible prevent their use. It is also found, by experience, that animal food is more stimulating than vegetable. This is the reason why, in cases of fevers, or inflammations, medical men forbid the use of meat and butter. Animal food supplies chyle much more abundantly than vegetable food does; and this chyle is more stimulating in its nature. Of course, a person who lives chiefly on animal food, is under a higher degree of stimulus than if his food was chiefly composed of vegetable substances. His blood will flow faster, and all the functions of his body will be quickened. This makes it important to secure a proper proportion of animal and vegetable diet. Some medical men suppose, that an exclusively vegetable diet is proved, by the experience of many individuals, to be fully sufficient to nourish the body; and bring, as evidence, the fact, that some of the strongest and most robust men in the world, are those, who are trained, from infancy, exclusively on vegetable food. From this, they infer, that life will be shortened, just in proportion as the diet is changed to more stimulating articles; and that, all other things being equal, children will have a better chance of health and long life, if they are brought up solely on vegetable food. But, though this is not the common opinion of medical men, they all agree, that, in America, far too large a portion of the diet consists of animal food. As a nation, the Americans are proverbial for the gross and luxurious diet with which they load their tables; and there can be no doubt that the general health of the Nation would be increased, by a change in our customs in this respect. To take meat but once a day, and this in small quantities, compared with the common practice, is a rule, the observance of which would probably greatly reduce the amount of fevers, eruptions, headaches, bilious attacks, and the many other ailments which are produced or aggravated by too gross a diet. The celebrated Roman physician, Baglivi, (who, from practising extensively among Roman Catholics, had ample opportunities to observe,) mentions, that, in Italy, an unusual number of people recover their health in the forty days of Lent, in consequence of the lower diet which is required as a religious duty. An American physician remarks, "For every reeling drunkard that disgraces our Country, it contains one hundred gluttons;--persons, I mean, who eat to excess, and suffer in consequence." Another distinguished physician says, "I believe that every stomach, not actually impaired by organic disease, will perform its functions, if it receives reasonable attention; and when we perceive the manner in which diet is generally conducted, both in regard to _quantity_ and _variety_ of articles of food and drink, which are mixed up in one heterogeneous mass,--instead of being astonished at the prevalence of indigestion, our wonder must rather be, that, in such circumstances, any stomach is capable of digesting at all." In regard to articles which are the most easily digested, only general rules can be given. Tender meats are digested more readily than those which are tough, or than many kinds of vegetable food. The farinaceous articles, such as rice, flour, corn, potatoes, and the like, are the most nutritious, and most easily digested. The popular notion, that meat is more nourishing than bread, is a great mistake. Good bread contains one third more nourishment than butcher's meat. The meat is more _stimulating_, and for this reason is more readily digested. A perfectly healthy stomach can digest almost any healthful food; but when the digestive powers are weak, every stomach has its peculiarities, and what is good for one, is hurtful to another. In such cases, experiment, alone, can decide, which are the most digestible articles of food. A person, whose food troubles him, must deduct one article after another, till he learns, by experience, which is the best for digestion. Much evil has been done, by assuming that the powers of one stomach are to be made the rule in regulating every other. The most unhealthful kinds of food, are those, which are made so by bad cooking; such as sour and heavy bread, cakes, pie-crust, and other dishes consisting of fat, mixed and cooked with flour; also rancid butter, and high-seasoned food. The fewer mixtures there are in cooking, the more healthful is the food likely to be. There is one caution, as to the _mode_ of eating, which seems peculiarly needful to Americans. It is indispensable to good digestion, that food be well chewed and taken slowly. It needs to be thoroughly chewed, in order to prepare it for the action of the gastric juice, which, by the _peristaltic motion_, will be thus brought into universal contact with the minute portions. It has been found, that a solid lump of food requires much more time and labor of the stomach, than divided substances. It has also been found, that, as each bolus, or mouthful, enters the stomach, the latter closes, until the portion received has had some time to move around and combine with the gastric juice; and that the orifice of the stomach resists the entrance of any more, till this is accomplished. But, if the eater persists in swallowing fast, the stomach yields; the food is then poured in more rapidly than the organ can perform its duty of digestion; and evil results are sooner or later developed. This exhibits the folly of those hasty meals, so common to travellers, and to men of business, and shows why children should be taught to eat slowly. After taking a full meal, it is very important to health, that no great bodily or mental exertion be made, till the labor of the stomach is over. Intense mental effort draws the blood to the head, and muscular exertions draw it to the muscles; and in consequence of this, the stomach loses the supply which it requires when performing its office. When the blood is thus withdrawn, the adequate supply of gastric juice is not afforded, and indigestion is the result. The heaviness which follows a full meal, is the indication which Nature gives of the need of quiet. When the meal is moderate, a sufficient quantity of gastric juice is exuded in an hour, or an hour and a half; after which, labor of body and mind may safely be resumed. When undigested food remains in the stomach, and is at last thrown out into the bowels, it proves an irritating substance, producing an inflamed state in the lining of the stomach and other organs. The same effect is produced by alcoholic drinks. It is found, that the stomach has the power of gradually accommodating its digestive powers to the food it habitually receives. Thus, animals, which live on vegetables, can gradually become accustomed to animal food; and the reverse is equally true. Thus, too, the human stomach can eventually accomplish the digestion of some kinds of food, which, at first, were indigestible. But any changes of this sort should be gradual; as those which are _sudden_, are trying to the powers of the stomach, by furnishing matter for which its gastric juice is not prepared. In regard to the nature of the meals prepared, the breakfast should furnish a supply of liquids, because the body has been exhausted by the exhalations of the night, and demands them more than at any other period. It should not be the heartiest meal, because the organs of digestion are weakened by long fasting, and the exhalations. Dinner should be the heartiest meal, because then the powers of digestion are strengthened, by the supplies of the morning meal. Light and amusing employments should occupy mind and body for an hour or more after a full meal. But little drink should be taken, while eating, as it dilutes the gastric juice which is apportioned to each quantity of food as it enters the stomach. It is better to take drink after the meal is past. Extremes of heat or cold are injurious to the process of digestion. Taking hot food or drink, habitually, tends to debilitate all the organs thus needlessly excited. In using cold substances, it is found that a certain degree of warmth in the stomach is indispensable to their digestion; so that, when the gastric juice is cooled below this temperature, it ceases to act. Indulging in large quantities of cold drinks, or eating ice-creams, after a meal, tends to reduce the temperature of the stomach, and thus to stop digestion. This shows the folly of those refreshments, in convivial meetings, where the guests are tempted to load the stomach with a variety, such as would require the stomach of a stout farmer to digest, and then to wind up with ice-creams, thus destroying whatever ability might otherwise have existed, to digest the heavy load. The fittest temperature for drinks, if taken when the food is in the digesting process, is blood heat. Cool drinks, and even ice, can be safely taken at other times, if not in excessive quantity. When the thirst is excessive, or the body weakened by fatigue, or when in a state of perspiration, cold drinks are injurious. When the body is perspiring freely, taking a large quantity of cold drink has often produced instant death. Fluids taken into the stomach are not subject to the slow process of digestion, but are immediately absorbed and carried into the blood. This is the reason why drink, more speedily than food, restores from exhaustion. The minute vessels of the stomach inhale or absorb its fluids, which are carried into the blood, just as the minute extremities of the arteries open upon the inner surface of the stomach, and there exude the gastric juice from the blood. When food is chiefly liquid, (soup, for example,) the fluid part is rapidly absorbed. The solid parts remain, to be acted on by the gastric juice. In the case of St. Martin,[F] in fifty minutes after taking soup, the fluids were absorbed, and the remainder was even thicker than is usual after eating solid food. This is the reason why soups are deemed bad for weak stomachs; as this residuum is more difficult of digestion than ordinary food. In recovering from sickness, beef-tea and broths are good, because the system then demands fluids to supply its loss of blood. Highly-concentrated food, having much nourishment in a small bulk, is not favorable to digestion, because it cannot be properly acted on by the muscular contractions of the stomach, and is not so minutely divided, as to enable the gastric juice to act properly. This is the reason, why a certain _bulk_ of food is needful to good digestion; and why those people, who live on whale oil, and other highly-nourishing food, in cold climates, mix vegetables and even sawdust with it, to make it more acceptable and digestible. So, in civilized lands, bread, potatoes, and vegetables, are mixed with more highly-concentrated nourishment. This explains why coarse bread, of unbolted wheat, so often proves beneficial. Where, from inactive habits, or other causes, the bowels become constipated and sluggish, this kind of food proves the appropriate remedy. One fact on this subject is worthy of notice. Under the administration of William Pitt, for two years or more, there was such a scarcity of wheat, that, to make it hold out longer, Parliament passed a law, that the army should have all their bread made of unbolted flour. The result was, that the health of the soldiers improved so much, as to be a subject of surprise to themselves, the officers, and the physicians. These last came out publicly, and declared, that the soldiers never before were so robust and healthy; and that disease had nearly disappeared from the army. The civic physicians joined and pronounced it the healthiest bread; and, for a time, schools, families, and public institutions, used it almost exclusively. Even the nobility, convinced by these facts, adopted it for their common diet; and the fashion continued a long time after the scarcity ceased, until more luxurious habits resumed their sway. For this reason, also, soups, gellies, and arrow-root, should have bread or crackers mixed with them. We thus see why children should not have cakes and candies allowed them between meals. These are highly-concentrated nourishments, and should be eaten with more bulky and less nourishing substances. The most indigestible of all kinds of food, are fatty and oily substances; especially if heated. It is on this account, that pie-crust, and articles boiled and fried in fat or butter, are deemed not so healthful as other food. The following, then, may be put down as the causes of a debilitated constitution, from the misuse of food. Eating _too much_, eating _too often_, eating _too fast_, eating food and condiments that are _too stimulating_, eating food that is _too warm_ or _too cold_, eating food that is _highly-concentrated_, without a proper admixture of less nourishing matter, and eating food that is _difficult of digestion_. FOOTNOTE: [F] The individual here referred to,--Alexis St. Martin,--was a young Canadian, of eighteen years of age, of a good constitution, and robust health, who, in 1822, was accidentally wounded by the discharge of a musket, which carried away a part of the ribs, lacerated one of the lobes of the lungs, and perforated the stomach, making a large aperture, which never closed; and which enabled Dr. Beaumont, (a surgeon of the American army, stationed at Michilimackinac, under whose care the patient was placed,) to witness all the processes of digestion and other functions of the body, for several years. The published account of the experiments made by Dr. B., is highly interesting and instructive. CHAPTER VII. ON HEALTHFUL DRINKS. Although intemperance in eating is probably the most prolific cause of the diseases of mankind, intemperance in drink has produced more guilt, misery, and crime, than any other one cause. And the responsibilities of a woman, in this particular, are very great; for the habits and liabilities of those under her care, will very much depend on her opinions and practice. It is a point fully established by experience, that the full developement of the human body, and the vigorous exercise of all its functions, can be secured without the use of stimulating drinks. It is, therefore, perfectly safe, to bring up children never to use them; no hazard being incurred, by such a course. It is also found, by experience, that there are two evils incurred, by the use of stimulating drinks. The first, is, their positive effect on the human system. Their peculiarity consists in so exciting the nervous system, that all the functions of the body are accelerated, and the fluids are caused to move quicker than at their natural speed. This increased motion of the animal fluids, always produces an agreeable effect on the mind. The intellect is invigorated, the imagination is excited, the spirits are enlivened; and these effects are so agreeable, that all mankind, after having once experienced them, feel a great desire for their repetition. But this temporary invigoration of the system, is always followed by a diminution of the powers of the stimulated organs; so that, though in all cases this reaction may not be perceptible, it is invariably the result. It may be set down as the unchangeable rule of physiology, that stimulating drinks (except in cases of disease) deduct from the powers of the constitution, in exactly the proportion in which they operate to produce temporary invigoration. The second evil, is, the temptation which always attends the use of stimulants. Their effect on the system is so agreeable, and the evils resulting are so imperceptible and distant, that there is a constant tendency to increase such excitement, both in frequency and power. And the more the system is thus reduced in strength, the more craving is the desire for that which imparts a temporary invigoration. This process of increasing debility and increasing craving for the stimulus that removes it, often goes to such an extreme, that the passion is perfectly uncontrollable, and mind and body perish under this baleful habit. In this Country, there are five forms in which the use of such stimulants is common; namely, _alcoholic drinks_, _tea_, _coffee_, _opium mixtures_, and _tobacco_. These are all alike, in the main peculiarity of imparting that extra stimulus to the system, which tends to exhaust its powers. Multitudes in this Nation are in the habitual use of some one of these stimulants; and each person defends the indulgence by these arguments: First, that the desire for stimulants is a natural propensity, implanted in man's nature, as is manifest from the universal tendency to such indulgences, in every nation. From this, it is inferred, that it is an innocent desire, which ought to be gratified, to some extent, and that the aim should be, to keep it within the limits of temperance, instead of attempting to exterminate a natural propensity. This is an argument, which, if true, makes it equally proper to use opium, brandy, tea, or tobacco, as stimulating principles, provided they are used temperately. But, if it be granted that perfect health and strength can be gained and secured without these stimulants, and that their peculiar effect is to diminish the power of the system, in exactly the same proportion as they stimulate it, then there is no such thing as a temperate use, unless they are so diluted, as to destroy any stimulating power; and in this form, they are seldom desired. The other argument for their use, is, that they are among the good things provided by the Creator, for our gratification; that, like all other blessings, they are exposed to abuse and excess; and that we should rather seek to regulate their use, than to banish them entirely. This argument is based on the assumption, that they are, like healthful foods and drinks, necessary to life and health, and injurious only by excess. But this is not true; for, whenever they are used in any such strength as to be a gratification, they operate, to a greater or less extent, as stimulants; and, to just such extent, they wear out the powers of the constitution; and it is abundantly proved, that they are not, like food and drink, necessary to health. Such articles are designed for medicine, and not for common use. There can be no argument framed to defend the use of one of them, which will not equally defend all. That men have a love for being stimulated, after they have once felt the pleasurable excitement, and that Providence has provided the means for securing it, are arguments as much in favor of alcohol, opium, and tobacco, as of coffee and tea. All that can be said in favor of the last-mentioned favorite beverages, is, that the danger in their use is not so great. Let any one, who defends one kind of stimulating drink, remember, then, that he uses an argument, which, if it be allowed that stimulants are not needed, and are injurious, will equally defend all kinds; and that all which can be said in defence of tea and coffee, is, that they _may_ be used, so weak, as to do no harm, and that they actually have done less harm than some of the other stimulating narcotics. The writer is of opinion, that tea and coffee are a most extensive cause of much of the nervous debility and suffering endured by American women; and that relinquishing such drinks would save an immense amount of such suffering. But there is little probability that the present generation will make so decided a change in their habits, as to give up these beverages; and the subject is presented rather in reference to forming the habits of children. It is a fact, that tea and coffee are, at first, seldom or never agreeable to children. It is the mixture of milk, sugar, and water, that reconciles them to a taste, which in this manner gradually becomes agreeable. Now, suppose that those who provide for a family conclude that it is not _their_ duty to give up entirely the use of stimulating drinks, may not the case appear different, in regard to teaching their children to love such drinks? Let the matter be regarded thus:--The experiments of physiologists all prove, that stimulants are not needful to health, and that, as the general rule, they tend to debilitate the constitution. Is it right, then, for a parent to tempt a child to drink what is not needful, when there is a probability that it will prove, to some extent, an undermining drain on the constitution? Some constitutions can bear much less excitement than others; and, in every family of children, there is usually one, or more, of delicate organization, and consequently peculiarly exposed to dangers from this source. It is this child who ordinarily becomes the victim to stimulating drinks. The tea and coffee which the parents and the healthier children can use without immediate injury, gradually sap the energies of the feebler child, who proves either an early victim, or a living martyr to all the sufferings that debilitated nerves inflict. Can it be right, to lead children, where all allow that there is some danger, and where, in many cases, disease and death are met, when another path is known to be perfectly safe? Of the stimulating drinks in common use, _black tea_ is least injurious, because its flavor is so strong, in comparison with its narcotic principle, that one who uses it, is much less liable to excess. Children can be trained to love milk and water sweetened with sugar, so that it will always be a pleasant beverage; or, if there are exceptions to the rule, they will be few. Water is an unfailing resort. Every one loves it, and it is perfectly healthful. The impression, common in this Country, that _warm drinks_, especially in Winter, are more healthful than cold, is not warranted by any experience, nor by the laws of the physical system. At dinner, cold drinks are universal, and no one deems them injurious. It is only at the other two meals that they are supposed to be hurtful. There is no doubt that _warm_ drinks are healthful, and more agreeable than cold, at certain times and seasons; but it is equally true, that drinks above blood heat are not healthful. If any person should hold a finger in hot water, for a considerable time, twice every day, it would be found that the finger would gradually grow weaker. The frequent application of the stimulus of heat, like all other stimulants, eventually causes debility. If, therefore, a person is in the habit of drinking hot drinks, twice a day, the teeth, throat, and stomach are gradually debilitated. This, most probably, is one of the causes of an early decay of the teeth, which is observed to be much more common among American ladies, than among those in European countries. It has been stated to the writer, by an intelligent traveller, who had visited Mexico, that it was rare to meet an individual with even a tolerable set of teeth; and that almost every grown person, he met in the street, had merely remnants of teeth. On inquiry into the customs of the Country, it was found, that it was the universal practice to take their usual beverage at almost the boiling point; and this, doubtless, was the chief cause of the almost entire want of teeth in that Country. In the United States, it cannot be doubted that much evil is done, in this way, by hot drinks. Most tea-drinkers consider tea as ruined, if it stands until it reaches the healthful temperature for drink. The following extract from Dr. Andrew Combe, presents the opinion of most intelligent medical men on this subject.[G] "_Water_ is a safe drink for all constitutions, provided it be resorted to in obedience to the dictates of natural thirst, only, and not of habit. Unless the desire for it is felt, there is no occasion for its use during a meal." "The primary effect of all distilled and fermented liquors, is, to _stimulate the nervous system and quicken the circulation_. In infancy and childhood, the circulation is rapid, and easily excited; and the nervous system is strongly acted upon, even by the slightest external impressions. Hence slight causes of irritation readily excite febrile and convulsive disorders. In youth, the natural tendency of the constitution is still to excitement; and consequently, as a general rule, the stimulus of fermented liquors is injurious." These remarks show, that parents, who find that stimulating drinks are not injurious to themselves, may mistake in inferring, from this, that they will not be injurious to their children. Dr. Combe continues thus: "In mature age, when digestion is good and the system in full vigor, if the mode of life be not too exhausting, the nervous functions and general circulation are in their best condition, and require no stimulus for their support. The bodily energy is then easily sustained, by nutritious food and a regular regimen, and consequently artificial excitement only increases the wasting of the natural strength. In old age, when the powers of life begin to fail, moderate stimulus may be used with evident advantage." It may be asked, in this connection, why the stimulus of animal food is not to be regarded in the same light, as that of stimulating drinks. In reply, a very essential difference may be pointed out. Animal food furnishes nutriment to the organs which it stimulates, but stimulating drinks excite the organs to quickened action, without affording any nourishment. It has been supposed, by some, that tea and coffee have, at least, a degree of nourishing power. But it is proved, that it is the milk and sugar, and not the main portion of the drink, which imparts the nourishment. Tea has not one particle of nourishing properties; and what little exists in the coffee-berry, is lost by roasting it in the usual mode. All that these articles do, is simply _to stimulate, without nourishing_. It is very common, especially in schools, for children to form a habit of drinking freely of cold water. This is a debilitating habit, and should be corrected. Very often, chewing a bit of cracker will stop a craving for drink, better than taking water; and when teachers are troubled with very thirsty scholars, they should direct them to this remedy. A person who exercises but little, requires no drink, between meals, for health; and the craving for it is unhealthful. Spices, wines, fermented liquors, and all stimulating condiments, produce unhealthful thirst. FOOTNOTE: [G] The writer would here remark, in reference to extracts made from various authors, that, for the sake of abridging, she has often left out parts of a paragraph, but never so as to modify the meaning of the author. Some ideas, not connected with the subject in hand, are omitted, but none are altered. CHAPTER VIII. ON CLOTHING. It appears, by calculations made from bills of mortality, that one quarter of the human race perishes in infancy. This is a fact not in accordance with the analogy of Nature. No such mortality prevails among the young of animals; it does not appear to be the design of the Creator; and it must be owing to causes which can be removed. Medical men agree in the opinion, that a great portion of this mortality, is owing to mismanagement, in reference to fresh air, food, and clothing. At birth, the circulation is chiefly in the vessels of the skin; for the liver and stomach, being feeble in action, demand less blood, and it resorts to the surface. If, therefore, an infant be exposed to cold, the blood is driven inward, by the contracting of the blood-vessels in the skin: and, the internal organs being thus over-stimulated, bowel complaints, croup, convulsions, or some other evil, ensues. This shows the sad mistake of parents, who plunge infants in cold water to strengthen their constitution; and teaches, that infants should be washed in warm water, and in a warm room. Some have constitutions strong enough to bear mismanagement in these respects; but many fail in consequence of it. Hence we see the importance of dressing infants warmly, and protecting them from exposure to a cold temperature. It is for this purpose, that mothers, now, very generally, cover the arms and necks of infants, especially in Winter. Fathers and mothers, if they were obliged to go with bare arms and necks, even in moderate weather, would often shiver with cold; and yet they have a power of constitution which would subject them to far less hazard and discomfort, than a delicate infant must experience from a similar exposure. This mode of dressing infants, with bare necks and arms, has arisen from the common impression, that they have a power of resisting cold superior to older persons. This is a mistake; for the experiments of medical men have established the fact, that the power of producing heat is least in the period of infancy. Extensive investigations have been made in France, in reference to this point. It is there required, in some districts, that every infant, at birth, be carried to the office of the _maire_, [_mayor_,] to be registered. It is found, in these districts, that the deaths of newly-born infants, are much more numerous in the cold, than in the warm, months; and that a much greater proportion of such deaths occurs among those who reside at a distance from the office of the _maire_, than among those in its vicinity. This proves, that exposure to cold has much to do with the continuance of infant life. But it is as dangerous to go to the other extreme, and keep the body too warm. The skin, when kept at too high a temperature, is relaxed and weakened by too profuse perspiration, and becomes more sensitive, and more readily affected by every change of temperature. This increases the liabilities to sudden colds; and it frequently happens, that the children, who are most carefully guarded from cold, are the ones most liable to take sudden and dangerous chills. The reason is, that, by the too great accumulation of clothing, the skin is too much excited, and the blood is withdrawn from the internal organs, thus weakening them, while the skin itself is debilitated by the same process. The rule of safety, is, so to cover the body, as to keep it entirely warm, but not so as to induce perspiration in any part. The perspiration induced by exercise is healthful, because it increases the appetite; but the perspiration produced by excess of clothing is debilitating. This shows the importance of adjusting beds and their covering to the season. Featherbeds are unhealthful in warm weather, because they induce perspiration; and in all cases, those, who have the care of children, should proportion their covering by night to the season of the year. Infants and children should never be so clothed, as either to feel chilly, or to induce perspiration. The greatest trouble, in this respect, to those who have the care of children, is owing to their throwing off their covering in the night. The best guard, against such exposures, is a nightgown, of the warmest and thickest flannel, made like pantaloons at the lower part, and the legs long, so that they can be tied over the feet. This makes less covering needful, and saves the child from excessive cold when it is thrown off. The clothing ought always to be proportioned to the constitution and habits. A person of strong constitution, who takes much exercise, needs less clothing than one of delicate and sedentary habits. According to this rule, women need much thicker and warmer clothing, when they go out, than men. But how different are our customs, from what sound wisdom dictates! Women go out with thin stockings, thin shoes, and open necks, when men are protected by thick woollen hose and boots, and their whole body encased in many folds of flannel and broadcloth. Flannel, worn next the skin, is useful, for several reasons. It is a bad conductor of heat, so that it protects the body from _sudden_ chills when in a state of perspiration. It also produces a kind of friction on the skin, which aids it in its functions, while its texture, being loose, enables it to receive and retain much matter, thrown off from the body, which would otherwise accumulate on its surface. This is the reason, why medical men direct, that young children wear flannel next the body, and woollen hose, the first two years of life. They are thus protected from sudden exposures. For the same reason, laboring men should thus wear flannels, which are also considered as preservatives from infection, in unhealthy atmospheres. They give a healthy action to the skin, and thus enable it to resist the operation of unhealthy miasms. On this account, persons residing in a new country should wear such clothing next the skin, to guard them from the noxious miasms caused by extensive vegetable decompositions. It is stated, that the fatal influence of the malaria, or noxious exhalations around Rome, has been much diminished by this practice. But those who thus wear flannel, through the day, ought to take it off, at night, when it is not needed. It should be hung so that it can be well aired, during the night. But the practice, by which females probably suffer most, is, the use of _tight dresses_. Much has been said against the use of corsets by ladies. But these may be worn with perfect safety, and be left off, and still injury, such as they often produce, be equally felt. It is the _constriction_ of dress, that is to be feared, and not any particular article that produces it. A frock, or a belt, may be so tight, as to be even worse than a corset, which would more equally divide the compression. So long as it is the fashion to admire, as models of elegance, the wasp-like figures which are presented at the rooms of mantuamakers and milliners, there will be hundreds of foolish women, who will risk their lives and health to secure some resemblance to these deformities of the human frame. But it is believed, that all sensible women, when they fairly understand the evils which result from tight dressing, and learn the _real_ model of taste and beauty for a perfect female form, will never risk their own health, or the health of their daughters, in efforts to secure one which is as much at variance with good taste, as it is with good health. Such female figures as our print-shops present, are made, not by the hand of the Author of all grace and beauty, but by the murderous contrivances of the corset-shop; and the more a woman learns the true rules of grace and beauty for the female form, the more her taste will revolt from such ridiculous distortions. The folly of the Chinese belle, who totters on two useless deformities, is nothing, compared to that of the American belle, who impedes all the internal organs in the discharge of their functions, that she may have a slender waist. It was shown, in the article on the bones and muscles, that exercise was indispensable to their growth and strength. If any muscles are left unemployed, they diminish in size and strength. The girding of tight dresses operates thus on the muscles of the body. If an article, like corsets, is made to hold up the body, then those muscles, which are designed for this purpose, are released from duty, and grow weak; so that, after this has been continued for some time, leaving off the unnatural support produces a feeling of weakness. Thus a person will complain of feeling so weak and unsupported, without corsets, as to be uncomfortable. This is entirely owing to the disuse of those muscles, which corsets throw out of employ. Another effect of tight dress, is, to stop or impede the office of the lungs. Unless the chest can expand, fully, and with perfect ease, a portion of the lungs is not filled with air, and thus the full purification of the blood is prevented. This movement of the lungs, when they are fully inflated, increases the peristaltic movement of the stomach and bowels, and promotes digestion; any constriction of the waist tends to impede this important operation, and indigestion, with all its attendant evils, is often the result. The rule of safety, in regard to the tightness of dress, is this. Every person should be dressed so loosely, that, _when sitting in the posture used in sewing, reading, or study_ THE LUNGS _can be as fully and as easily inflated, as they are without clothing_. Many a woman thinks she dresses loosely, because, when she stands up, her clothing does not confine her chest. This is not a fair test. It is in the position most used when engaged in common employments, that we are to judge of the constriction of dress. Let every woman, then, bear in mind, that, just so long as her dress and position oppose any resistance to the motion of her chest, in just such proportion her blood is unpurified, and her vital organs are debilitated. The English ladies set our countrywomen a good example, in accommodating their dress to times and seasons. The richest and noblest among them wear warm cotton hose and thick shoes, when they walk for exercise; and would deem it vulgar to appear, as many of our ladies do, with thin hose and shoes, in damp or cold weather. Any mode of dress, not suited to the employment, the age, the season, or the means of the wearer, is in bad taste. CHAPTER IX. ON CLEANLINESS. The importance of cleanliness, in person and dress, can never be fully realized, by persons who are ignorant of the construction of the skin, and of the influence which its treatment has on the health of the body. Persons deficient in such knowledge, frequently sneer at what they deem the foolish and fidgety particularity of others, whose frequent ablutions and changes of clothing, exceed their own measure of importance. The popular maxim, that "dirt is healthy," has probably arisen from the fact, that playing in the open air is very beneficial to the health of children, who thus get dirt on their persons and clothes. But it is the fresh air and exercise, and not the dirt, which promotes the health. In a previous article, it was shown, that the lungs, bowels, kidneys, and skin, were the organs employed in throwing off those waste and noxious parts of the food not employed in nourishing the body. Of this, the skin has the largest duty to perform; throwing off, at least, twenty ounces every twenty-four hours, by means of insensible perspiration. When exercise sets the blood in quicker motion, it ministers its supplies faster, and there is consequently a greater residuum to be thrown off by the skin; and then the perspiration becomes so abundant as to be perceptible. In this state, if a sudden chill take place, the blood-vessels of the skin contract, the blood is driven from the surface, and the internal organs are taxed with a double duty. If the constitution be a strong one, these organs march on and perform the labor exacted. But if any of these organs be debilitated, the weakest one generally gives way, and some disease ensues. One of the most frequent illustrations of this reciprocated action, is afforded by a convivial meeting in cold weather. The heat of the room, the food, and the excitement, quicken the circulation, and perspiration is evolved. When the company passes into the cold air, a sudden revulsion takes place. The increased circulation continues, for some time after; but the skin being cooled, the blood retreats, and the internal organs are obliged to perform the duties of the skin as well as their own. Then, in case the lungs are the weakest organ, the mucous secretion becomes excessive; so that it would fill up the cells, and stop the breathing, were it not for the spasmodic effort called coughing, by which this substance is thrown out. In case the nerves are the weakest part of the system, such an exposure would result in pains in the head or teeth, or in some other nervous ailment. If the muscles be the weakest part, rheumatic affections will ensue; and if the bowels or kidneys be weakest, some disorder in their functions will result. But it is found, that the closing of the pores of the skin with other substances, tends to a similar result on the internal organs. In this situation, the skin is unable perfectly to perform its functions, and either the blood remains to a certain extent unpurified, or else the internal organs have an unnatural duty to perform. Either of these results tends to produce disease, and the gradual decay of the vital powers. Moreover, it has been shown, that the skin has the power of absorbing into the blood particles retained on its surface. In consequence of these peculiarities, the skin of the whole body needs to be washed, every day. This process removes from the pores the matter exhaled from the blood, and also that collected from the atmosphere and other bodies. If this process be not often performed, the pores of the skin fill up with the redundant matter expelled, and being pressed, by the clothing, to the surface of the body, the skin is both interrupted in its exhaling process, and its absorbents take back into the system portions of the noxious matter. Thus the blood is not relieved to the extent designed, while it receives back noxious particles, which are thus carried to the lungs, liver, and every part of the system. This is the reason why the articles worn next to the skin should often be changed; and why it is recommended that persons should not sleep in the article they wear next the skin through the day. The alternate change and airing of the articles worn next the body by day or night, is a practice very favorable to the health of the skin. The fresh air has the power of removing much of the noxious effluvia received from the body by the clothing. It is with reference to this, that on leaving a bed, its covering should be thrown open and exposed to the fresh air. The benefit arising from a proper care of the skin, is the reason why bathing has been so extensively practised by civilized nations. The Greeks and Romans considered bathing as indispensable to daily comfort, as much so, as their meals; and public baths were provided for all classes. In European countries, this practice is very prevalent, but there is no civilized nation which pays so little regard to the rules of health, on this subject, as our own. To wash the face, feet, hands, and neck, is the extent of the ablutions practised by perhaps the majority of our people. In regard to the use of the bath, there is need of some information, in order to prevent danger from its misuse. Persons in good health, and with strong constitutions, can use the cold bath, and the shower-bath, with entire safety and benefit. But if the constitution be feeble, cold bathing is injurious. If it is useful, it can be known by an invigorated feeling, and a warm glow on the skin; but if, instead of this, there be a feeling of debility, and the hands and feet become cold, it is a certain sign, that this kind of bathing is injurious. A bath at ninety-five degrees of Fahrenheit, is about the right temperature. A bath, blood warm, or a little cooler than the skin, is safe for all constitutions, if not protracted over half an hour. After bathing, the body should be rubbed with a brush or coarse towel, to remove the light scales of scarfskin, which adhere to it, and also to promote a healthful excitement. A bath should never be taken, till three hours after eating, as it interrupts the process of digestion, by withdrawing the blood from the stomach to the surface. Neither should it be taken, when the body is weary with exercise, nor be immediately followed by severe exercise. Many suppose that a warm bath exposes a person more readily to take cold; and that it tends to debilitate the system. This is not the case, unless it be protracted too long. If it be used so as to cleanse the skin, and give it a gentle stimulus, it is better able to resist cold than before the process. This is the reason why the Swedes and Russians can rush, reeking, out of their steam baths, and throw themselves into the snow, and not only escape injury, but feel invigorated. It is for a similar reason, that we suffer less in going into the cold, from a warm room, with our body entirely warm, than when we go out somewhat chilled. When the skin is warm, the circulation is active on the surface, and the cold does not so reduce its temperature, but that increased exercise will keep up its warmth. When families have no bathing establishment, every member should wash the whole person, on rising or going to bed, either in cold or warm water, according to the constitution. It is especially important, that children have the perspiration and other impurities, which their exercise and sports have occasioned, removed from their skin before going to bed. The hours of sleep are those when the body most freely exhales the waste matter of the system, and all the pores should be properly freed from impediments to this healthful operation. For this purpose, a large tin wash-pan should be kept for children, just large enough, at bottom, for them to stand in, and flaring outward, so as to be very broad at top. A child can then be placed in it, standing, and washed with a sponge, without wetting the floor. Being small at bottom, it is better than a tub; it is not only smaller, but lighter, and requires less water. These remarks indicate the wisdom of those parents, who habitually wash their children, all over, before they go to bed. The chance of life and health, to such children, is greatly increased by this practice; and no doubt much of the suffering of childhood, from cutaneous eruptions, weak eyes, earache, colds, and fevers, is owing to a neglect of the skin. The care of the teeth should be made habitual to children, not merely as promoting an agreeable appearance, but as a needful preservative. The saliva contains tartar, an earthy substance, which is deposited on the teeth, and destroys both their beauty and health. This can be prevented, by the use of the brush, night and morning. But, if this be neglected, the deposite becomes hard, and can be removed only by the dentist. If suffered to remain, it tends to destroy the health of the gums; they gradually decay, and thus the roots of the teeth become bare, and they often drop out. When children are shedding their first set of teeth, care should be taken, to remove them as soon as they become loose; otherwise the new teeth will grow awry. When persons have defective teeth, they can often be saved, by having them filled by a dentist. This also will frequently prevent the toothache. Children should be taught to take proper care of their nails. Long and dirty nails have a disagreeable appearance. When children wash, in the morning, they should be supplied with an instrument to clean the nails, and be required to use it. CHAPTER X. ON EARLY RISING. There is no practice, which has been more extensively eulogized, in all ages, than early rising; and this universal impression, is an indication that it is founded on true philosophy. For, it is rarely the case, that the common sense of mankind fastens on a practice, as really beneficial, especially one that demands self-denial, without some substantial reason. This practice, which may justly be called a domestic virtue, is one, which has a peculiar claim to be styled American and democratic. The distinctive mark of aristocratic nations, is, a disregard of the great mass, and a disproportionate regard for the interests of certain privileged orders. All the customs and habits of such a nation, are, to a greater or less extent, regulated by this principle. Now the mass of any nation must always consist of persons who labor at occupations which demand the light of day. But in aristocratic countries, especially in England, labor is regarded as the mark of the lower classes, and indolence is considered as one mark of a gentleman. This impression has gradually and imperceptibly, to a great extent, regulated their customs, so that, even in their hours of meals and repose, the higher orders aim at being different and distinct from those, who, by laborious pursuits, are placed below them. From this circumstance, while the lower orders labor by day, and sleep at night, the rich, the noble, and the honored, sleep by day, and follow their pursuits and pleasures by night. It will be found, that the aristocracy of London breakfast near mid-day, dine after dark, visit and go to Parliament between ten and twelve at night, and retire to sleep towards morning. In consequence of this, the subordinate classes, who aim at gentility, gradually fall into the same practice. The influence of this custom extends across the ocean, and here, in this democratic land, we find many, who measure their grade of gentility by the late hour at which they arrive at a party. And this aristocratic tendency is growing upon us, so that, throughout the Nation, the hours for visiting and retiring are constantly becoming later, while the hours for rising correspond in lateness. The question, then, is one which appeals to American women, as a matter of patriotism; as having a bearing on those great principles of democracy, which we conceive to be equally the principles of Christianity. Shall we form our customs on the principle that labor is degrading, and indolence genteel? Shall we assume, by our practice, that the interests of the great mass are to be sacrificed for the pleasures and honors of a privileged few? Shall we ape the customs of aristocratic lands, in those very practices which result from principles and institutions that we condemn? Shall we not rather take the place to which we are entitled, as the leaders, rather than the followers, in the customs of society, turn back the tide of aristocratic inroads, and carry through the whole, not only of civil and political, but of social and domestic, life, the true principles of democratic freedom and equality? The following considerations may serve to strengthen an affirmative decision. The first, relates to the health of a family. It is a universal law of physiology, that all living things flourish best in the light. Vegetables, in a dark cellar, grow pale and spindling,[H] and children, brought up in mines, are wan and stinted. This universal law, indicates the folly of turning day into night, thus losing the genial influence, which the light of day produces on all animated creation. There is another phenomenon in the physiology of Nature, which equally condemns this practice. It has been shown, that the purification of the blood, in the lungs, is secured, by the oxygen of the atmosphere absorbing its carbon and hydrogen. This combination forms carbonic acid and water, which are expired from our lungs into the atmosphere. Now all the vegetable world undergoes a similar process. In the light of day, all the leaves of vegetables absorb carbon and expire oxygen, thus supplying the air with its vital principle, and withdrawing the more deleterious element. But, when the light is withdrawn, this process is reversed, and all vegetables exhale carbonic acid, and inspire the oxygen of the air. Thus it appears, that the atmosphere of day is much more healthful than that of the night, especially out of doors. Moreover, when the body is fatigued, it is much more liable to deleterious influences, from noxious particles in the atmosphere, which may be absorbed by the skin or the lungs. In consequence of this, the last hours of daily labor are more likely to be those of risk, especially to delicate constitutions. This is a proper reason for retiring to the house and to slumber, at an early hour, that the body may not be exposed to the most risk, when, after the exertions of the day, it is least able to bear it. The observations of medical men, whose inquiries have been directed to this point, have decided, that from six to eight hours, is the amount of sleep demanded by persons in health. Some constitutions require as much as eight, and others no more than six, hours of repose. But eight hours is the maximum for all persons in ordinary health, with ordinary occupations. In cases of extra physical exertions, or the debility of disease, or a decayed constitution, more than this is required. Let eight hours, then, be regarded as the ordinary period required for sleep, by an industrious people, like the Americans. According to this, the practice of rising between four and five, and retiring between nine and ten, in Summer, would secure most of the sunlight, and expose us the least to that period of the atmosphere, when it is most noxious. In Winter, the night air is less deleterious, because the frost binds noxious exhalations, and vegetation ceases its inspiring and expiring process; and, moreover, as the constitution is more tried, in cold, than in warm, weather, and as in cold weather the body exhales less during the hours of sleep, it is not so injurious to protract our slumbers beyond the proper period, as it is in the warm months. But in Winter, it is best for grown persons, in health, to rise as soon as they can see to dress, and retire so as not to allow more than eight hours for sleep. It thus appears, that the laws of our political condition, the laws of the natural world, and the constitution of our bodies, alike demand that we rise with the light of day to prosecute our employments, and that we retire within doors, when this light is withdrawn. In regard to the effects of protracting the time spent in repose, many extensive and satisfactory investigations have been made. It has been shown, that, during sleep, the body perspires most freely, while yet neither food nor exercise are ministering to its wants. Of course, if we continue our slumbers, beyond the time required to restore the body to its usual vigor, there is an unperceived undermining of the constitution, by this protracted and debilitating exhalation. This process, in a course of years, renders the body delicate, and less able to withstand disease; and in the result shortens life. Sir John Sinclair, who has written a large work on the Causes of Longevity, states, as one result of his extensive investigations, that he has never yet heard or read of a single case of great longevity, where the individual was not an early riser. He says, that he has found cases, in which the individual has violated some one of all the other laws of health, and yet lived to great age; but never a single instance, in which any constitution has withstood that undermining, consequent on protracting the hours of repose beyond the demands of the system. Another reason for early rising, is, that it is indispensable to a systematic and well-regulated family. At whatever hour the parents retire, children and domestics, wearied by play or labor, must retire early. Children usually awake with the dawn of light, and commence their play, while domestics usually prefer the freshness of morning for their labors. If, then, the parents rise at a late hour, they either induce a habit of protracting sleep in their children and domestics, or else the family is up, and at their pursuits, while their supervisors are in bed. Any woman, who asserts that her children and domestics, in the first hours of day, when their spirits are freshest, will be as well regulated without her presence, as with it, confesses that, which surely is little for her credit. It is believed, that any candid woman, whatever may be her excuse for late rising, will concede, that, if she could rise early, it would be for the advantage of her family. A late breakfast puts back the work, through the whole day, for every member of a family; and, if the parents thus occasion the loss of an hour or two, to each individual, who, but for their delay in the morning, would be usefully employed, they, alone, are responsible for all this waste of time. Is it said, that those, who wish to rise early, can go to their employments before breakfast? it may be replied, that, in most cases, it is not safe to use the eyes or the muscles in the morning, till the losses of the night have been repaired by food. In addition to this, it may be urged, that, where the parents set an example of the violation of the rules of health and industry, their influence tends in the wrong direction; so that whatever waste of time is induced, by a practice which they thus uphold, must be set down to their account. But the practice of early rising has a relation to the general interests of the social community, as well as to that of each distinct family. All that great portion of the community, who are employed in business and labor, find it needful to rise early; and all their hours of meals, and their appointments for business or pleasure, must be accommodated to these arrangements. Now, if a small portion of the community establish very different hours, it makes a kind of jostling, in all the concerns and interests of society. The various appointments for the public, such as meetings, schools, and business hours, must be accommodated to the mass, and not to individuals. The few, then, who establish domestic habits at variance with the majority, are either constantly interrupted in their own arrangements, or else are interfering with the rights and interests of others. This is exemplified in the case of schools. In families where late rising is practised, either hurry, irregularity, and neglect, are engendered in the family, or else the interests of the school, and thus of the community, are sacrificed. In this, and many other concerns, it can be shown, that the wellbeing of the bulk of the people, is, to a greater or less extent, impaired by this aristocratic practice. Let any teacher select the unpunctual scholars,--a class who most seriously interfere with the interests of the school;--and let men of business select those who cause them most waste of time and vexation, by unpunctuality; and it will be found, that they are among the late risers, and rarely among those who rise early. Thus, it is manifest, that late rising not only injures the person and family which practise it, but interferes with the rights and convenience of the community. FOOTNOTE: [H] Shooting into a long, small, stalk or root. CHAPTER XI. ON DOMESTIC EXERCISE. In the preceding chapters, we have noticed the various causes, which, one or all, operate to produce that melancholy delicacy and decay of the female constitution, which are the occasion of so much physical and mental suffering throughout this Country. These, in a more condensed form, may be enumerated thus: A want of exercise, inducing softness in the bones, weakness in the muscles, inactivity in the digestive organs, and general debility in the nervous system: A neglect of the care of the skin, whereby the blood has not been properly purified, and the internal organs have been weakened: A violation of the laws of health, in regard to food, by eating too much, too fast, and too often; by using stimulating food and drinks; by using them too warm or too cold; and by eating that which the power of the stomach is not sufficient to digest: A neglect of the laws of health, in regard to clothing, by dressing too tight, and by wearing too little covering, in cold and damp weather, and especially by not sufficiently protecting the feet: A neglect to gain a proper supply of pure air, in sleeping apartments and schoolrooms, and too great a confinement to the house: The pursuit of exciting amusements at unseasonable hours, and the many exposures involved at such times: And lastly, sleeping by day, instead of by night, and protracting the hours of sleep, beyond the period of repose demanded for rest; thus exhausting, instead of recruiting, the energies of the system. But all the other causes, combined, probably, do not produce one half the evils, which result from a want of proper exercise. A person who keeps all the functions of the system in full play, by the active and frequent use of every muscle, especially if it be in the open air, gains a power of constitution, which can resist many evils that would follow from the other neglects and risks detailed. This being the case, there can be no subject, more important for mothers and young ladies to understand, than the influence on the health, both of body and mind, of the neglect or abuse of the muscular system. It has been shown, in the previous pages, that all the muscles have nerves and blood-vessels, running in larger trunks, or minute branches, to every portion of the body. The experiments of Sir Charles Bell and others, have developed the curious fact, that each apparently single nerve, in reality consists of two distinct portions, running together in the same covering. One portion, is the nerve of _sensation_ or _feeling_, the other, the nerve of _motion_. The nerves of sensation are those which are affected by the emotions and volitions of the mind; and the nerves of motion are those which impart moving power to the muscles. Experiments show, that, where the nerves issue from the spine, the nerve of sensation may be cut off without severing the nerve of motion, and then the parts, to which this nerve extends, lose the power of feeling, while the power of motion continues; and so, on the other hand, the nerve of motion may be divided, and, the nerve of sensation remaining uninjured, the power of feeling is retained, and the power of motion is lost. In certain nervous diseases, sometimes a limb loses its power of feeling, and yet retains the power of motion; in other cases, the power of motion is lost, and the power of sensation is retained; and in other cases, still, when a limb is _paralysed_, both the power of motion and of sensation are lost. Now, the nerves, like all other parts of the body, gain and lose strength, according as they are exercised. If they have too much, or too little, exercise, they lose strength; if they are exercised to a proper degree, they gain strength. When the mind is continuously excited, by business, study, or the imagination, the nerves of feeling are kept in constant action, while the nerves of motion are unemployed. If this is continued, for a long time, the nerves of sensation lose their strength, from over action, and the nerves of motion lose their power, from inactivity. In consequence, there is a morbid excitability of the nervous, and a debility of the muscular, system, which make all exertion irksome and wearisome. The only mode of preserving the health of these systems, is, to keep up in them an equilibrium of action. For this purpose, occupations must be sought, which exercise the muscles, and interest the mind; and thus the equal action of both kinds of nerves is secured. This shows why exercise is so much more healthful and invigorating, when the mind is interested, than when it is not. As an illustration, let a person go a shopping, with a friend, and have nothing to do, but look on; how soon do the continuous walking and standing weary! But suppose one, thus wearied, hears of the arrival of a very dear friend: she can instantly walk off a mile or two, to meet her, without the least feeling of fatigue. By this is shown the importance of furnishing, for young persons, exercise in which they will take an interest. Long and formal walks, merely for exercise, though they do some good, in securing fresh air and some exercise of the muscles, would be of triple benefit, if changed to amusing sports, or to the cultivation of fruits and flowers, in which it is impossible to engage, without acquiring a great interest. It shows, also, why it is far better to trust to useful domestic exercise, at home, than to send a young person out to walk, for the mere purpose of exercise. Young girls can seldom be made to realize the value of health, and the need of exercise to secure it, so as to feel much interest in walking abroad, when they have no other object. But, if they are brought up to minister to the comfort and enjoyment of themselves and others, by performing domestic duties, they will constantly be interested and cheered in their exercise, by the feeling of usefulness, and the consciousness of having performed their duty. There are few young persons, it is hoped, who are brought up with such miserable habits of selfishness and indolence, that they cannot be made to feel happier, by the consciousness of being usefully employed. And those who have never been accustomed to think or care for any one but themselves, and who seem to feel little pleasure in making themselves useful, by wise and proper influences, can often be gradually awakened to the new pleasure of benevolent exertion to promote the comfort and enjoyment of others. And the more this sacred and elevating kind of enjoyment is tasted, the greater is the relish induced. Other enjoyments, often cloy; but the heavenly pleasure, secured by virtuous industry and benevolence, while it satisfies, at the time, awakens fresh desires for so ennobling a good. But, besides the favorable influence on the nervous and muscular system, thus gained, it has been shown, that exercise imparts fresh strength and vitality to all parts of the body. The exertion of the muscles quickens the flow of the blood, which thus ministers its supplies faster to every part of the body, and, of course, loses a portion of its nourishing qualities. When this is the case, the stomach issues its mandate of _hunger_, calling for new supplies. When these are furnished, the action of the muscles again hastens a full supply to every organ, and thus the nerves, the muscles, the bones, the skin, and all the internal organs, are invigorated, and the whole body developes its powers, in fair proportions, fresh strength and full beauty. All the cosmetics of trade, all the labors of mantuamakers, milliners, makers of corsets, shoemakers, and hairdressers, could never confer so clear and pure a skin, so fresh a color, so finely moulded a form, and such cheerful health and spirits, as would be secured by training a child to obey the laws of the benevolent Creator, in the appropriate employment of body and mind in useful domestic exercise. And the present habits of the wealthy, and even of those without wealth, which condemn young girls so exclusively to books or sedentary pursuits, are as destructive to beauty and grace, as they are to health and happiness. Every allowance should be made for the mistakes of mothers and teachers, to whom the knowledge which would have saved them from the evils of such a course has never been furnished; but as information, on these matters, is every year becoming more abundant, it is to be hoped, that the next generation, at least, may be saved from the evils which afflict those now on the stage. What a change would be made in the happiness of this Country, if all the pale and delicate young girls should become blooming, healthful, and active, and all the enfeebled and care-worn mothers should be transformed into such fresh, active, healthful, and energetic matrons, as are so frequently found in our mother land! It has been stated, that the excessive use of the muscles, as much as their inactivity, tends to weaken them. Nothing is more painful, than the keeping a muscle constantly on the stretch, without any relaxation or change. This can be realized, by holding out an arm, perpendicularly to the body, for ten or fifteen minutes, if any one can so long bear the pain. Of course, confinement to one position, for a great length of time, tends to weaken the muscles thus strained. This shows the evil of confining young children to their seats, in the schoolroom, so much and so long as is often done. Having no backs to their seats, as is generally the case, the muscles, which are employed in holding up the body, are kept in a state of constant tension, till they grow feeble from overworking. Then, the child begins to grow crooked, and the parents, to remedy the evil, sometimes put on bracers or corsets. These, instead of doing any good, serve to prevent the use of those muscles, which, if properly exercised, would hold the body straight; and thus they grow still weaker, from entire inactivity. If a parent perceives that a child is growing crooked, the proper remedy is, to withdraw it from all pursuits which tax one particular set of muscles, and turn it out to exercise in sports, or in gardening, in the fresh air, when all the muscles will be used, and the whole system strengthened. Or, if this cannot be done, sweeping, dusting, running of errands, and many household employments, which involve lifting, stooping, bending, and walking, are quite as good, and, on some accounts, better, provided the house is properly supplied with fresh air. Where persons have formed habits of inactivity, some caution is necessary, in attempting a change; this must be made gradually; and the muscles must never be excessively fatigued at any time. If this change be not thus gradually made, the weakness, at first caused by inactivity, will be increased by excessive exertion. A distinguished medical gentleman gives this rule, to direct us in regard to the amount of fatigue, which is safe and useful. A person is never too much fatigued, if one night of repose gives sufficient rest, and restores the usual strength. But, if the sleep is disturbed, and the person wakes with a feeling of weariness and languor, it is a sure indication that the exercise has been excessive. No more fatigue, then, should be allowed, than one night's rest will remedy. Some persons object to sweeping, on account of the dust inhaled. But free ventilation, frequent sweeping, and the use of damp sand, or damp Indian meal, or damp tea leaves, for carpets, will secure a more clear atmosphere than is often found in the streets of cities. And the mother, who will hire domestics, to take away this and other domestic employments, which would secure to her daughters, health, grace, beauty, and domestic virtues, and the young ladies, who consent to be deprived of these advantages, will probably live to mourn over the languor, discouragement, pain, and sorrow, which will come with ill health, as the almost inevitable result. The following are extracts from 'The Young Ladies' Friend,' on this subject:-- "Whether rich or poor, young or old, married or single, a woman is always liable to be called to the performance of every kind of domestic duty, as well as to be placed at the head of a family; and nothing, short of a _practical_ knowledge of the details of housekeeping, can ever make those duties easy, or render her competent to direct others in the performance of them. "All moral writers on female character, treat of Domestic Economy as an indispensable part of female education; and this, too, in the old countries of Europe, where an abundant population, and the institutions of society, render it easy to secure the services of faithful domestics." "All female characters that are held up to admiration, whether in fiction or biography, will be found to possess these domestic accomplishments; and, if they are considered indispensable in the Old World, how much more are they needed, in this land of independence, where riches cannot exempt the mistress of a family from the difficulty of procuring efficient aid, and where perpetual change of domestics, renders perpetual instruction and superintendence necessary. "Since, then, the details of good housekeeping must be included in a good female education, it is very desirable that they should be acquired when young, and so practised as to become easy, and to be performed dexterously and expeditiously." "The elegant and accomplished Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who figured in the fashionable, as well as the literary, circles of her time, has said, that 'the most minute details of household economy become elegant and refined, when they are ennobled by sentiment;' and they are truly ennobled, when we do them either from a sense of duty, or consideration for a parent, or love to a husband. 'To furnish a room,' continues this lady, 'is no longer a commonplace affair, shared with upholsterers and cabinet-makers; it is decorating the place where I am to meet a friend or lover. To order dinner is not merely arranging a meal with my cook; it is preparing refreshment for him whom I love. These necessary occupations, viewed in this light, by a person capable of strong attachment, are so many pleasures, and afford her far more delight, than the games and shows which constitute the amusements of the world.' "Such is the testimony of a titled lady of the last century, to the sentiment that may be made to mingle in the most homely occupations. I will now quote that of a modern female writer and traveller, who, in her pleasant book, called 'Six Weeks on the Loire,' has thus described the housewifery of the daughter of a French nobleman, residing in a superb chateau on that river. The travellers had just arrived, and been introduced, when the following scene took place. "'The bill of fare for dinner was discussed in my presence, and settled, _sans façon_,[I] with that delightful frankness and gayety, which, in the French character, gives a charm to the most trifling occurrence. Mademoiselle Louise then begged me to excuse her for half an hour, as she was going to make some creams, and some _pastilles_.[J] I requested that I might accompany her, and also render myself useful; we accordingly went together to the dairy. I made tarts _à l'Anglaise_,[K] whilst she made confections and _bonbons_,[L] and all manner of pretty things, with as much ease as if she had never done any thing else, and as much grace as she displayed in the saloon. I could not help thinking, as I looked at her, with her servants about her, all cheerful, respectful, and anxious to attend upon her, how much better it would be for the young ladies in England, if they would occasionally return to the habits of their grandmammas, and mingle the animated and endearing occupations of domestic life, and the modest manners and social amusements of home, with the perpetual practising on harps and pianos, and the incessant efforts at display, and search after gayety, which, at the present day, render them any thing but what an amiable man, of a reflecting mind and delicate sentiments, would desire in the woman he might wish to select as the companion of his life.'" FOOTNOTES: [I] Without formality, or useless ceremony. [J] Rolls of paste, or pastry, or sugarplums. [K] According to the English fashion. [L] Nice things or dainties, such as sweetmeats. CHAPTER XII. ON DOMESTIC MANNERS. Good-manners are the expressions of benevolence in personal intercourse, by which we endeavor to promote the comfort and enjoyment of others, and to avoid all that gives needless uneasiness. It is the exterior exhibition of the Divine precept, which requires us to do to others, as we would that they should do to us. It is saying, by our deportment, to all around, that we consider their feelings, tastes, and convenience, as equal in value to our own. Good-manners lead us to avoid all practices which offend the taste of others; all violations of the conventional rules of propriety; all rude and disrespectful language and deportment; and all remarks, which would tend to wound the feelings of another. There is a serious defect, in the manners of the American people, especially in the free States, which can never be efficiently remedied, except in the domestic circle, and during early life. It is a deficiency in the free expression of kindly feelings and sympathetic emotions, and a want of courtesy in deportment. The causes, which have led to this result, may easily be traced. The forefathers of this Nation, to a wide extent, were men who were driven from their native land, by laws and customs which they believed to be opposed both to civil and religious freedom. The sufferings they were called to endure, the subduing of those gentler feelings which bind us to country, kindred, and home, and the constant subordination of the passions to stern principle, induced characters of great firmness and self-control. They gave up the comforts and refinements of a civilized country, and came, as pilgrims, to a hard soil, a cold clime, and a heathen shore. They were continually forced to encounter danger, privations, sickness, loneliness, and death; and all these, their religion taught them to meet with calmness, fortitude, and submission. And thus it became the custom and habit of the whole mass, to repress, rather than to encourage, the expression of feeling. Persons who are called to constant and protracted suffering and privation, are forced to subdue and conceal emotion; for the free expression of it would double their own suffering, and increase the sufferings of others. Those, only, who are free from care and anxiety, and whose minds are mainly occupied by cheerful emotions, are at full liberty to unveil their feelings. It was under such stern and rigorous discipline, that the first children in New England were reared; and the manners and habits of parents are usually, to a great extent, transmitted to children. Thus it comes to pass, that the descendants of the Puritans, now scattered over every part of the Nation, are predisposed to conceal the gentler emotions, while their manners are calm, decided, and cold, rather than free and impulsive. Of course, there are very many exceptions to these predominating results. The causes, to which we may attribute a general want of courtesy in manners, are certain incidental results of our democratic institutions. Our ancestors, and their descendants, have constantly been combating the aristocratic principle, which would exalt one class of men at the expense of another. They have had to contend with this principle, not only in civil, but in social, life. Almost every American, in his own person, as well as in behalf of his class, has had to assume and defend the main principle of democracy,--that every man's feelings and interests are equal in value to those of every other man. But, in doing this, there has been some want of clear discrimination. Because claims, based on distinctions of mere birth, fortune, or position, were found to be injurious, many have gone to the extreme of inferring that all distinctions, involving subordination, are useless. Such, would regard children as equals to parents, pupils to teachers, domestics to their employers, and subjects to magistrates; and that, too, in all respects. The fact, that certain grades of superiority and subordination are needful, both for individual and public benefit, has not been clearly discerned; and there has been a gradual tendency to an extreme, which has sensibly affected our manners. All the proprieties and courtesies, which depend on the recognition of the relative duties of superior and subordinate, have been warred upon; and thus we see, to an increasing extent, disrespectful treatment of parents, from children; of teachers, from pupils; of employers, from domestics; and of the aged, from the young. In all classes and circles, there is a gradual decay in courtesy of address. In cases, too, where kindness is rendered, it is often accompanied with a cold, unsympathizing manner, which greatly lessens its value, while kindness or politeness is received in a similar style of coolness, as if it were but the payment of a just due. It is owing to these causes, that the American people, especially the inhabitants of New England, do not do themselves justice. For, while those, who are near enough to learn their real character and feelings, can discern the most generous impulses, and the most kindly sympathies, they are so veiled, in a composed and indifferent demeanor, as to be almost entirely concealed from strangers. These defects in our national manners, it especially falls to the care of mothers, and all who have charge of the young, to rectify; and if they seriously undertake the matter, and wisely adapt means to ends, these defects will be remedied. With reference to this object, the following ideas are suggested. The law of Christianity and of democracy, which teaches that all men are born equal, and that their interests and feelings should be regarded as of equal value, seems to be adopted in aristocratic circles, with exclusive reference to the class in which the individual moves. The courtly gentleman, addresses all of his own class with politeness and respect; and, in all his actions, seems to allow that the feelings and convenience of others are to be regarded, the same as his own. But his demeanor to those of inferior station, is not based on the same rule. Among those, who make up aristocratic circles, such as are above them, are deemed of superior, and such as are below, of inferior, value. Thus, if a young, ignorant, and vicious coxcomb, happens to be born a lord, the aged, the virtuous, the learned, and the wellbred, of another class, must give his convenience the precedence, and must address him in terms of respect. So, when a man of noble birth is thrown among the lower classes, he demeans himself in a style, which, to persons of his own class, would be deemed the height of assumption and rudeness. Now, the principles of democracy require, that the same courtesy, which we accord to our own circle, shall be extended to every class and condition; and that distinctions, of superiority and subordination, shall depend, not on accidents of birth, fortune, or occupation, but solely on those relations, which the good of all classes equally require. The distinctions demanded, in a democratic state, are simply those, which result from relations, that are common to every class, and are for the benefit of all. It is for the benefit of every class, that children be subordinate to parents, pupils to teachers, the employed to their employers, and subjects to magistrates. In addition to this, it is for the general wellbeing, that the comfort or convenience of the delicate and feeble, should be preferred to that of the strong and healthy, who would suffer less by any deprivation, and that precedence should be given to their elders, by the young, and that reverence should be given to the hoary head. The rules of good-breeding, in a democratic state, must be founded on these principles. It is, indeed, assumed, that the value of the happiness of each individual, is the same as that of every other; but, as there must be occasions, where there are advantages which all cannot enjoy, there must be general rules for regulating a selection. Otherwise, there would be constant scrambling, among those of equal claims, and brute force must be the final resort; in which case the strongest would have the best of every thing. The democratic rule, then, is, that superiors, in age, station, or office, have precedence of subordinates; age and feebleness, of youth and strength; and the feebler sex, of more vigorous man.[M] There is, also, a style of deportment and address, which is appropriate to these different relations. It is suitable for a superior to secure compliance with his wishes, from those subordinate to him, by commands; but a subordinate must secure compliance with his wishes, from a superior, by requests. It is suitable for a parent, teacher, or employer, to admonish for neglect of duty; but not for an inferior to adopt such a course towards a superior. It is suitable for a superior to take precedence of a subordinate, without any remark; but not for an inferior, without previously asking leave, or offering an apology. It is proper for a superior to use language and manners of freedom and familiarity, which would be improper from a subordinate to a superior. The want of due regard to these proprieties, occasions the chief defect in American manners. It is very common to hear children talk to their parents, in a style proper only between companions and equals; so, also, the young address their elders, those employed, their employers, and domestics, the members of the family and their visiters, in a style, which is inappropriate to their relative positions. A respectful address is required not merely towards superiors; every person desires to be treated with courtesy and respect, and therefore, the law of benevolence demands such demeanor, towards all whom we meet in the social intercourse of life. "Be ye courteous," is the direction of the Apostle in reference to our treatment of _all_. Good-manners can be successfully cultivated, only in early life, and in the domestic circle. There is nothing which depends so much upon _habit_, as the constantly recurring proprieties of good-breeding; and, if a child grows up without forming such habits, it is very rarely the case that they can be formed at a later period. The feeling, that it is of little consequence how we behave at home, if we conduct properly abroad, is a very fallacious one. Persons, who are careless and ill bred at home, may imagine that they can assume good-manners abroad; but they mistake. Fixed habits of tone, manner, language, and movements, cannot be suddenly altered; and those who are illbred at home, even when they try to hide their bad habits, are sure to violate many of the obvious rules of propriety, and yet be unconscious of it. And there is nothing, which would so effectually remove prejudice against our democratic institutions, as the general cultivation of good-breeding in the domestic circle. Good-manners are the exterior of benevolence, the minute and often recurring exhibitions of "peace and good-will;" and the nation, as well as the individual, which most excels in the external, as well as the internal, principle, will be most respected and beloved. The following are the leading points, which claim attention from those who have the care of the young. In the first place, in the family, there should be required, a strict attention to the rules of precedence, and those modes of address appropriate to the various relations to be sustained. Children should always be required to offer their superiors, in age or station, the precedence in all comforts and conveniences, and always address them in a respectful tone and manner. The custom of adding "Sir," or "Ma'am," to "Yes," or "No," is valuable, as a perpetual indication of a respectful recognition of superiority. It is now going out of fashion, even among the most wellbred people; probably from a want of consideration of its importance. Every remnant of courtesy of address, in our customs, should be carefully cherished, by all who feel a value for the proprieties of good-breeding. If parents allow their children to talk to them, and to the grown persons in the family, in the same style in which they address each other, it will be vain to hope for the courtesy of manner and tone, which good-breeding demands in the general intercourse of society. In a large family, where the elder children are grown up, and the younger are small, it is important to require the latter to treat the elder as superiors. There are none, so ready as young children to assume airs of equality; and, if they are allowed to treat one class of superiors in age and character disrespectfully, they will soon use the privilege universally. This is the reason, why the youngest children of a family are most apt to be pert, forward, and unmannerly. Another point to be aimed at, is, to require children always to acknowledge every act of kindness and attention, either by words or manner. If they are so trained as always to make grateful acknowledgements, when receiving favors, one of the objectionable features in American manners will be avoided. Again, children should be required to ask leave, whenever they wish to gratify curiosity, or use an article which belongs to another. And if cases occur, when they cannot comply with the rules of good-breeding, as, for instance, when they must step between a person and the fire, or take the chair of an older person, they should be required either to ask leave, or to offer an apology. There is another point of good-breeding, which cannot, in all cases, be understood and applied by children, in its widest extent. It is that, which requires us to avoid all remarks which tend to embarrass, vex, mortify, or in any way wound the feelings, of another. To notice personal defects; to allude to others' faults, or the faults of their friends; to speak disparagingly of the sect or party to which a person belongs; to be inattentive, when addressed in conversation; to contradict flatly; to speak in contemptuous tones of opinions expressed by another;--all these, are violations of the rules of good-breeding, which children should be taught to regard. Under this head, comes the practice of whispering, and staring about, when a teacher, or lecturer, or clergyman, is addressing a class or audience. Such inattention, is practically saying, that what the person is uttering is not worth attending to; and persons of real good-breeding always avoid it. Loud talking and laughing, in a large assembly, even when no exercises are going on; yawning and gaping in company; and not looking in the face a person who is addressing you, are deemed marks of ill-breeding. Another branch of good-manners, relates to the duties of hospitality. Politeness requires us to welcome visiters with cordiality; to offer them the best accommodations; to address conversation to them; and to express, by tone and manner, kindness and respect. Offering the hand to all visiters, at one's own house, is a courteous and hospitable custom; and a cordial shake of the hand, when friends meet, would abate much of the coldness of manner ascribed to Americans. The last point of good-breeding, to be noticed, refers to the conventional rules of propriety and good taste. Of these, the first class relates to the avoidance of all disgusting or offensive personal habits, such as fingering the hair; cleaning the teeth or nails; picking the nose; spitting on carpets; snuffing, instead of using a handkerchief, or using the article in an offensive manner; lifting up the boots or shoes, as some men do, to tend them on the knee, or to finger them;--all these tricks, either at home or in society, children should be taught to avoid. Another branch, under this head, may be called _table manners_. To persons of good-breeding, nothing is more annoying, than violating the conventional proprieties of the table. Reaching over another person's plate; standing up, to reach distant articles, instead of asking to have them passed; using one's own knife, and spoon, for butter, salt, or sugar, when it is the custom of the family to provide separate utensils for the purpose; setting cups, with tea dripping from them, on the tablecloth, instead of the mats or small plates furnished; using the tablecloth, instead of the napkins; eating fast, and in a noisy manner; putting large pieces in the mouth; looking and eating as if very hungry, or as if anxious to get at certain dishes; sitting at too great a distance from the table, and dropping food; laying the knife and fork on the tablecloth, instead of on the bread, or the edge of the plate;--all these particulars, children should be taught to avoid. It is always desirable, too, to require children, when at table with grown persons, to be silent, except when addressed by others; or else their chattering will interrupt the conversation and comfort of their elders. They should always be required, too, to wait, _in silence_, till all the older persons are helped. All these things should be taught to children, gradually, and with great patience and gentleness. Some parents, with whom good-manners is a great object, are in danger of making their children perpetually uncomfortable, by suddenly surrounding them with so many rules, that they must inevitably violate some one or other, a great part of the time. It is much better to begin with a few rules, and be steady and persevering with these, till a habit is formed, and then take a few more, thus making the process easy and gradual. Otherwise, the temper of children will be injured; or, hopeless of fulfilling so many requisitions, they will become reckless and indifferent to all. But, in reference to those who have enjoyed advantages for the cultivation of good-manners, and who duly estimate its importance, one caution is necessary. Those, who never have had such habits formed in youth, are under disadvantages, which no benevolence of temper can remedy. They may often violate the tastes and feelings of others, not from a want of proper regard for them, but from ignorance of custom, or want of habit, or abstraction of mind, or from other causes, which demand forbearance and sympathy, rather than displeasure. An ability to bear patiently with defects in manners, and to make candid and considerate allowance for a want of advantages, or for peculiarities in mental habits, is one mark of the benevolence of real good-breeding. The advocates of monarchical and aristocratic institutions, have always had great plausibility given to their views, by the seeming tendencies to insubordination and bad-manners, of our institutions. And it has been too indiscriminately conceded, by the defenders of the latter, that such are these tendencies, and that the offensive points, in American manners, are the necessary result of democratic principles. But it is believed, that both facts and reasoning are in opposition to this opinion. The following extract from the work of De Tocqueville, exhibits the opinion of an impartial observer, when comparing American manners with those of the English, who are confessedly the most aristocratic of all people. He previously remarks on the tendency of aristocracy to make men more sympathizing with persons of their own peculiar class, and less so towards those of lower degree; and he then contrasts American manners with the English, claiming that the Americans are much the most affable, mild, and social. "In America, where the privileges of birth never existed, and where riches confer no peculiar rights on their possessors, men acquainted with each other are very ready to frequent the same places, and find neither peril nor advantage in the free interchange of their thoughts. If they meet, by accident, they neither seek nor avoid intercourse; their manner is therefore natural, frank, and open." "If their demeanor is often cold and serious, it is never haughty or constrained." But an "aristocratic pride is still extremely great among the English; and, as the limits of aristocracy are ill-defined, every body lives in constant dread, lest advantage should be taken of his familiarity. Unable to judge, at once, of the social position of those he meets, an Englishman prudently avoids all contact with them. Men are afraid, lest some slight service rendered should draw them into an unsuitable acquaintance; they dread civilities, and they avoid the obtrusive gratitude of a stranger, as much as his hatred." Thus, _facts_ seem to show that when the most aristocratic nation in the world is compared, as to manners, with the most democratic, the judgement of strangers is in favor of the latter. And if good-manners are the outward exhibition of the democratic principle of impartial benevolence and equal rights, surely the nation which adopts this rule, both in social and civil life, is the most likely to secure the desirable exterior. The aristocrat, by his principles, extends the exterior of impartial benevolence to his own class, only; the democratic principle, requires it to be extended _to all_. There is reason, therefore, to hope and expect more refined and polished manners in America, than in any other land; while all the developements of taste and refinement, such as poetry, music, painting, sculpture, and architecture, it may be expected, will come to a higher state of perfection, here, than in any other nation. If this Country increases in virtue and intelligence, as it may, there is no end to the wealth which will pour in as the result of our resources of climate, soil, and navigation, and the skill, industry, energy, and enterprise, of our countrymen. This wealth, if used as intelligence and virtue dictate, will furnish the means for a superior education to all classes, and every facility for the refinement of taste, intellect, and feeling. Moreover, in this Country, labor is ceasing to be the badge of a lower class; so that already it is disreputable for a man to be "a lazy gentleman." And this feeling must increase, till there is such an equalisation of labor, as will afford all the time needful for every class to improve the many advantages offered to them. Already, in Boston, through the munificence of some of her citizens, there are literary and scientific advantages, offered to all classes, rarely enjoyed elsewhere. In Cincinnati, too, the advantages of education, now offered to the poorest classes, without charge, surpass what, some years ago, most wealthy men could purchase, for any price. And it is believed, that a time will come, when the poorest boy in America can secure advantages, which will equal what the heir of the proudest peerage can now command. The records of the courts of France and Germany, (as detailed by the Duchess of Orleans,) in and succeeding the brilliant reign of Louis the Fourteenth,--a period which was deemed the acme of elegance and refinement,--exhibit a grossness, a vulgarity, and a coarseness, not to be found among the lowest of our respectable poor. And the biography of Beau Nash, who attempted to reform the manners of the gentry, in the times of Queen Anne, exhibits violations of the rules of decency among the aristocracy, which the commonest yeoman of this Land would feel disgraced in perpetrating. This shows, that our lowest classes, at this period, are more refined, than were the highest in aristocratic lands, a hundred years ago; and another century may show the lowest classes, in wealth, in this Country, attaining as high a polish, as adorns those who now are leaders of good-manners in the courts of kings. FOOTNOTE: [M] The universal practice of this Nation, in thus giving precedence to woman, has been severely commented on by Miss Martineau and some others, who would transfer all the business of the other sex to women, and then have them treated like men. May this evidence of our superior civilisation and Christianity increase, rather than diminish! CHAPTER XIII. ON THE PRESERVATION OF A GOOD TEMPER IN A HOUSEKEEPER. There is nothing, which has a more abiding influence on the happiness of a family, than the preservation of equable and cheerful temper and tones in the housekeeper. A woman, who is habitually gentle, sympathizing, forbearing, and cheerful, carries an atmosphere about her, which imparts a soothing and sustaining influence, and renders it easier for all to do right, under her administration, than in any other situation. The writer has known families, where the mother's presence seemed the sunshine of the circle around her; imparting a cheering and vivifying power, scarcely realized, till it was withdrawn. Every one, without thinking of it, or knowing why it was so, experienced a peaceful and invigorating influence, as soon as he entered the sphere illumined by her smile, and sustained by her cheering kindness and sympathy. On the contrary, many a good housekeeper, (good in every respect but this,) by wearing a countenance of anxiety and dissatisfaction, and by indulging in the frequent use of sharp and reprehensive tones, more than destroys all the comfort which otherwise would result from her system, neatness, and economy. There is a secret, social sympathy, which every mind, to a greater or less degree, experiences with the feelings of those around, as they are manifested by the countenance and voice. A sorrowful, a discontented, or an angry, countenance, produces a silent, sympathetic influence, imparting a sombre shade to the mind, while tones of anger or complaint still more effectually jar the spirits. No person can maintain a quiet and cheerful frame of mind, while tones of discontent and displeasure are sounding on the ear. We may gradually accustom ourselves to the evil, till it is partially diminished; but it always is an evil, which greatly interferes with the enjoyment of the family state. There are sometimes cases, where the entrance of the mistress of a family seems to awaken a slight apprehension, in every mind around, as if each felt in danger of a reproof, for something either perpetrated or neglected. A woman, who should go around her house with a small stinging snapper, which she habitually applied to those whom she met, would be encountered with feelings very much like to those which are experienced by the inmates of a family, where the mistress often uses her countenance and voice, to inflict similar penalties for duties neglected. Yet, there are many allowances to be made for housekeepers, who sometimes imperceptibly and unconsciously fall into such habits. A woman, who attempts to carry out any plans of system, order, and economy, and who has her feelings and habits conformed to certain rules, is constantly liable to have her plans crossed, and her taste violated, by the inexperience or inattention of those about her. And no housekeeper, whatever may be her habits, can escape the frequent recurrence of negligence or mistake, which interferes with her plans. It is probable, that there is no class of persons, in the world, who have such incessant trials of temper, and temptations to be fretful, as American housekeepers. For a housekeeper's business is not, like that of the other sex, limited to a particular department, for which previous preparation is made. It consists of ten thousand little disconnected items, which can never be so systematically arranged, that there is no daily jostling, somewhere. And in the best-regulated families, it is not unfrequently the case, that some act of forgetfulness or carelessness, from some member, will disarrange the business of the whole day, so that every hour will bring renewed occasion for annoyance. And the more strongly a woman realizes the value of time, and the importance of system and order, the more will she be tempted to irritability and complaint. The following considerations, may aid in preparing a woman to meet such daily crosses, with even a cheerful temper and tones. In the first place, a woman, who has charge of a large household, should regard her duties as dignified, important, and difficult. The mind is so made, as to be elevated and cheered by a sense of far-reaching influence and usefulness. A woman, who feels that she is a cipher, and that it makes little difference how she performs her duties, has far less to sustain and invigorate her, than one, who truly estimates the importance of her station. A man, who feels that the destinies of a nation are turning on the judgement and skill with which he plans and executes, has a pressure of motive, and an elevation of feeling, which are great safeguards from all that is low, trivial, and degrading. So, an American mother and housekeeper, who looks at her position in the aspect presented in the previous pages, and who rightly estimates the long train of influences which will pass down to thousands, whose destinies, from generation to generation, will be modified by those decisions of her will, which regulated the temper, principles, and habits, of her family, must be elevated above petty temptations, which would otherwise assail her. Again, a housekeeper should feel that she really has great difficulties to meet and overcome. A person, who wrongly thinks there is little danger, can never maintain so faithful a guard, as one who rightly estimates the temptations which beset her. Nor can one, who thinks that they are trifling difficulties which she has to encounter, and trivial temptations, to which she must yield, so much enjoy the just reward of conscious virtue and self-control, as one who takes an opposite view of the subject. A third method, is, for a woman deliberately to calculate on having her best-arranged plans interfered with, very often; and to be in such a state of preparation, that the evil will not come unawares. So complicated are the pursuits, and so diverse the habits of the various members of a family, that it is almost impossible for every one to avoid interfering with the plans and taste of a housekeeper, in some one point or another. It is, therefore, most wise, for a woman to keep the loins of her mind ever girt, to meet such collisions with a cheerful and quiet spirit. Another important rule, is, to form all plans and arrangements in consistency with the means at command, and the character of those around. A woman, who has a heedless husband, and young children, and incompetent domestics, ought not to make such plans, as one may properly form, who will not, in so many directions, meet embarrassment. She must aim at just so much as she can probably secure, and no more; and thus she will usually escape much temptation, and much of the irritation of disappointment. The fifth, and a very important, consideration, is, that _system_, _economy_, and _neatness_, are valuable, only so far as they tend to promote the comfort and wellbeing of those affected. Some women seem to act under the impression, that these advantages _must_ be secured, at all events, even if the comfort of the family be the sacrifice. True, it is very important that children grow up in habits of system, neatness, and order; and it is very desirable that the mother give them every incentive, both by precept and example: but it is still more important, that they grow up with amiable tempers, that they learn to meet the crosses of life with patience and cheerfulness; and nothing has a greater influence to secure this, than a mother's example. Whenever, therefore, a woman cannot accomplish her plans of neatness and order, without injury to her own temper, or to the temper of others, she ought to modify and reduce them, until she can. The sixth method, relates to the government of the tones of voice. In many cases, when a woman's domestic arrangements are suddenly and seriously crossed, it is impossible not to feel some irritation. But it _is_ always possible to refrain from angry tones. A woman can resolve, that, whatever happens, she will not speak, till she can do it in a calm and gentle manner. _Perfect silence_ is a safe resort, when such control cannot be attained, as enables a person to speak calmly; and this determination, persevered in, will eventually be crowned with success. Many persons seem to imagine, that tones of anger are needful, in order to secure prompt obedience. But observation has convinced the writer that they are _never_ necessary; that _in all cases_, reproof, administered in calm tones, would be better. A case will be given in illustration. A young girl had been repeatedly charged to avoid a certain arrangement in cooking. On one day, when company was invited to dine, the direction was forgotten, and the consequence was, an accident, which disarranged every thing, seriously injured the principal dish, and delayed dinner for an hour. The mistress of the family entered the kitchen, just as it occurred, and, at a glance, saw the extent of the mischief. For a moment, her eyes flashed, and her cheeks glowed; but she held her peace. After a minute or so, she gave directions, in a calm voice, as to the best mode of retrieving the evil, and then left, without a word said to the offender. After the company left, she sent for the girl, alone, and in a calm and kind manner pointed out the aggravations of the case, and described the trouble which had been caused to her husband, her visiters, and herself. She then portrayed the future evils which would result from such habits of neglect and inattention, and the modes of attempting to overcome them; and then offered a reward for the future, if, in a given time, she succeeded in improving in this respect. Not a tone of anger was uttered; and yet the severest scolding of a practised Xantippe could not have secured such contrition, and determination to reform, as was gained by this method. But similar negligence is often visited by a continuous stream of complaint and reproof, which, in most cases, is met, either by sullen silence, or impertinent retort, while anger prevents any contrition, or any resolution of future amendment. It is very certain, that some ladies do carry forward a most efficient government, both of children and domestics, without employing tones of anger; and therefore they are not indispensable, nor on any account desirable. Though some ladies, of intelligence and refinement, do fall unconsciously into such a practice, it is certainly very unlady-like, and in very bad taste, to _scold_; and the further a woman departs from all approach to it, the more perfectly she sustains her character as a lady. Another method of securing equanimity, amid the trials of domestic life, is, to cultivate a habit of making allowances for the difficulties, ignorance, or temptations, of those who violate rule or neglect duty. It is vain, and most unreasonable, to expect the consideration and care of a mature mind, in childhood and youth; or that persons, of such limited advantages as most domestics have enjoyed, should practise proper self-control, and possess proper habits and principles. Every parent, and every employer, needs daily to cultivate the spirit expressed in the Divine prayer, "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." The same allowances and forbearance, which we supplicate from our Heavenly Father, and desire from our fellow-men, in reference to our own deficiencies, we should constantly aim to extend to all, who cross our feelings and interfere with our plans. The last, and most important, mode of securing a placid and cheerful temper and tones, is, by a right view of the doctrine of a superintending Providence. All persons are too much in the habit of regarding the more important events of life, as exclusively under the control of Perfect Wisdom. But the fall of a sparrow, or the loss of a hair, they do not feel to be equally the result of His directing agency. In consequence of this, Christian persons, who aim at perfect and cheerful submission to heavy afflictions, and who succeed, to the edification of all about them, are sometimes sadly deficient under petty crosses. If a beloved child be laid in the grave, even if its death resulted from the carelessness of a domestic, or of a physician, the eye is turned from the subordinate agent, to the Supreme Guardian of all, and to Him they bow, without murmur or complaint. But if a pudding be burnt, or a room badly swept, or an errand forgotten, then vexation and complaint are allowed, just as if these events were not appointed by Perfect Wisdom, as much as the sorer chastisement. A woman, therefore, needs to cultivate the _habitual_ feeling, that all the events of her nursery and kitchen, are brought about by the permission of our Heavenly Father, and that fretfulness or complaint, in regard to these, is, in fact, complaining and disputing at the appointments of God, and is really as sinful, as unsubmissive murmurs amid the sorer chastisements of His hand. And a woman, who cultivates this habit of referring all the minor trials of life to the wise and benevolent agency of a Heavenly Parent, and daily seeks His sympathy and aid, to enable her to meet them with a quiet and cheerful spirit, will soon find it the perennial spring of abiding peace and content. CHAPTER XIV. ON HABITS OF SYSTEM AND ORDER. The discussion of the question of the equality of the sexes, in intellectual capacity, seems frivolous and useless, both because it can never be decided, and because there would be no possible advantage in the decision. But one topic, which is often drawn into this discussion, is of far more consequence; and that is, the relative importance and difficulty of the duties a woman is called to perform. It is generally assumed, and almost as generally conceded, that woman's business and cares are contracted and trivial; and that the proper discharge of her duties, demands far less expansion of mind and vigor of intellect, than the pursuits of the other sex. This idea has prevailed, because women, as a mass, have never been educated with reference to their most important duties; while that portion of their employments, which is of least value, has been regarded as the chief, if not the sole, concern of a woman. The covering of the body, the conveniences of residences, and the gratification of the appetite, have been too much regarded as the sole objects, on which her intellectual powers are to be exercised. But, as society gradually shakes off the remnants of barbarism, and the intellectual and moral interests of man rise, in estimation, above the merely sensual, a truer estimate is formed of woman's duties, and of the measure of intellect requisite for the proper discharge of them. Let any man, of sense and discernment, become the member of a large household, in which, a well-educated and pious woman is endeavoring systematically to discharge her multiform duties; let him fully comprehend all her cares, difficulties, and perplexities; and it is probable he would coincide in the opinion, that no statesman, at the head of a nation's affairs, had more frequent calls for wisdom, firmness, tact, discrimination, prudence, and versatility of talent, than such a woman. She has a husband, to whose peculiar tastes and habits she must accommodate herself; she has children, whose health she must guard, whose physical constitutions she must study and develope, whose temper and habits she must regulate, whose principles she must form, whose pursuits she must direct. She has constantly changing domestics, with all varieties of temper and habits, whom she must govern, instruct, and direct; she is required to regulate the finances of the domestic state, and constantly to adapt expenditures to the means and to the relative claims of each department. She has the direction of the kitchen, where ignorance, forgetfulness, and awkwardness, are to be so regulated, that the various operations shall each start at the right time, and all be in completeness at the same given hour. She has the claims of society to meet, calls to receive and return, and the duties of hospitality to sustain. She has the poor to relieve; benevolent societies to aid; the schools of her children to inquire and decide about; the care of the sick; the nursing of infancy; and the endless miscellany of odd items, constantly recurring in a large family. Surely, it is a pernicious and mistaken idea, that the duties, which tax a woman's mind, are petty, trivial, or unworthy of the highest grade of intellect and moral worth. Instead of allowing this feeling, every woman should imbibe, from early youth, the impression, that she is training for the discharge of the most important, the most difficult, and the most sacred and interesting duties that can possibly employ the highest intellect. She ought to feel, that her station and responsibilities, in the great drama of life, are second to none, either as viewed by her Maker, or in the estimation of all minds whose judgement is most worthy of respect. She, who is the mother and housekeeper in a large family, is the sovereign of an empire, demanding more varied cares, and involving more difficult duties, than are really exacted of her, who, while she wears the crown, and professedly regulates the interests of the greatest nation on earth, finds abundant leisure for theatres, balls, horseraces, and every gay pursuit. There is no one thing, more necessary to a housekeeper, in performing her varied duties, than _a habit of system and order_; and yet, the peculiarly desultory nature of women's pursuits, and the embarrassments resulting from the state of domestic service in this Country, render it very difficult to form such a habit. But it is sometimes the case, that women, who could and would carry forward a systematic plan of domestic economy, do not attempt it, simply from a want of knowledge of the various modes of introducing it. It is with reference to such, that various modes of securing system and order, which the writer has seen adopted, will be pointed out. A wise economy is nowhere more conspicuous, than in the right _apportionment of time_ to different pursuits. There are duties of a religious, intellectual, social, and domestic, nature, each having different relative claims on attention. Unless a person has some general plan of apportioning these claims, some will intrench on others, and some, it is probable, will be entirely excluded. Thus, some find religious, social, and domestic, duties, so numerous, that no time is given to intellectual improvement. Others, find either social, or benevolent, or religious, interests, excluded by the extent and variety of other engagements. It is wise, therefore, for all persons to devise a general plan, which they will at least keep in view, and aim to accomplish, and by which, a proper proportion of time shall be secured, for all the duties of life. In forming such a plan, every woman must accommodate herself to the peculiarities of her situation. If she has a large family, and a small income, she must devote far more time to the simple duty of providing food and raiment, than would be right were she in affluence, and with a small family. It is impossible, therefore, to draw out any general plan, which all can adopt. But there are some _general principles_, which ought to be the guiding rules, when a woman arranges her domestic employments. These principles are to be based on Christianity, which teaches us to "seek first the kingdom of God," and to deem food, raiment, and the conveniences of life, as of secondary account. Every woman, then, ought to start with the assumption, that religion is of more consequence than any worldly concern, and that, whatever else may be sacrificed, this, shall be the leading object, in all her arrangements, in respect to time, money, and attention. It is also one of the plainest requisitions of Christianity, that we devote some of our time and efforts, to the comfort and improvement of others. There is no duty, so constantly enforced, both in the Old and New Testament, as the duty of charity, in dispensing to those, who are destitute of the blessings we enjoy. In selecting objects of charity, the same rule applies to others, as to ourselves; their moral and religious interests are of the highest moment, and for them, as well as for ourselves, we are to "seek first the kingdom of God." Another general principle, is, that our intellectual and social interests are to be preferred, to the mere gratification of taste or appetite. A portion of time, therefore, must be devoted to the cultivation of the intellect and the social affections. Another, is, that the mere gratification of appetite, is to be placed _last_ in our estimate; so that, when a question arises, as to which shall be sacrificed, some intellectual, moral, or social, advantage, or some gratification of sense, we should invariably sacrifice the last. Another, is, that, as health is indispensable to the discharge of every duty, nothing, which sacrifices that blessing, is to be allowed, in order to gain any other advantage or enjoyment. There are emergencies, when it is right to risk health and life, to save ourselves and others from greater evils; but these are exceptions, which do not militate against the general rule. Many persons imagine, that, if they violate the laws of health, in performing religious or domestic duties, they are guiltless before God. But such greatly mistake. We as directly violate the law, "thou shalt not kill," when we do what tends to risk or shorten our own life, as if we should intentionally run a dagger into a neighbor. True, we may escape any fatal or permanently injurious effects, and so may a dagger or bullet miss the mark, or do only transient injury. But this, in either case, makes the sin none the less. The life and happiness of all His creatures are dear to our Creator; and He is as much displeased, when we injure our own interests, as when we injure those of others. The idea, therefore, that we are excusable, if we harm no one but ourselves, is false and pernicious. These, then, are the general principles, to guide a woman in systematizing her duties and pursuits. The Creator of all things, is a Being of perfect system and order; and, to aid us in our duty, in this respect, He has divided our time, by a regularly returning day of rest from worldly business. In following this example, the intervening six days may be subdivided to secure similar benefits. In doing this, a certain portion of time must be given to procure the means of livelihood, and for preparing food, raiment, and dwellings. To these objects, some must devote more, and others less, attention. The remainder of time not necessarily thus employed, might be divided somewhat in this manner: The leisure of two afternoons and evenings, could be devoted to religious and benevolent objects, such as religious meetings, charitable associations, school visiting, and attention to the sick and poor. The leisure of two other days, might be devoted to intellectual improvement, and the pursuits of taste. The leisure of another day, might be devoted to social enjoyments, in making or receiving visits; and that of another, to miscellaneous domestic pursuits, not included in the other particulars. It is probable, that few persons could carry out such an arrangement, very strictly; but every one can make a systematic apportionment of time, and at least _aim_ at accomplishing it; and they can also compare the time which they actually devote to these different objects, with such a general outline, for the purpose of modifying any mistaken proportions. Without attempting any such systematic employment of time, and carrying it out, so far as they can control circumstances, most women are rather driven along, by the daily occurrences of life, so that, instead of being the intelligent regulators of their own time, they are the mere sport of circumstances. There is nothing, which so distinctly marks the difference between weak and strong minds, as the fact, whether they control circumstances, or circumstances control them. It is very much to be feared, that the apportionment of time, actually made by most women, exactly inverts the order, required by reason and Christianity. Thus, the furnishing a needless variety of food, the conveniences of dwellings, and the adornments of dress, often take a larger portion of time, than is given to any other object. Next after this, comes intellectual improvement; and, last of all, benevolence and religion. It may be urged, that it is indispensable for most persons to give more time to earn a livelihood, and to prepare food, raiment, and dwellings, than to any other object. But it may be asked, how much of the time, devoted to these objects, is employed in preparing varieties of food, not necessary, but rather injurious, and how much is spent for those parts of dress and furniture not indispensable, and merely ornamental? Let a woman subtract from her domestic employments, all the time, given to pursuits which are of no use, except as they gratify a taste for ornament, or minister increased varieties, to tempt the appetite, and she will find, that much, which she calls "domestic duties," and which prevent her attention to intellectual, benevolent, and religious, objects, should be called by a very different name. No woman has a right to give up attention to the higher interests of herself and others, for the ornaments of taste, or the gratification of the palate. To a certain extent, these lower objects are lawful and desirable; but, when they intrude on nobler interests, they become selfish and degrading. Every woman, then, when employing her hands, in ornamenting her person, her children, or her house, ought to calculate, whether she has devoted _as much_ time, to the intellectual and moral wants of herself and others. If she has not, she may know that she is doing wrong, and that her system, for apportioning her time and pursuits, should be altered. Some persons, endeavor to systematize their pursuits, by apportioning them to particular hours of each day. For example, a certain period before breakfast, is given to devotional duties; after breakfast, certain hours are devoted to exercise and domestic employments; other hours, to sewing, or reading, or visiting; and others, to benevolent duties. But, in most cases, it is more difficult to systematize the hours of each day, than it is to secure some regular division of the week. In regard to the minutiæ of domestic arrangements, the writer has known the following methods to be adopted. _Monday_, with some of the best housekeepers, is devoted to preparing for the labors of the week. Any extra cooking, the purchasing of articles to be used during the week, the assorting of clothes for the wash, and mending such as would be injured without;--these, and similar items, belong to this day. _Tuesday_ is devoted to washing, and _Wednesday_ to ironing. On _Thursday_, the ironing is finished off, the clothes are folded and put away, and all articles, which need mending, are put in the mending basket, and attended to. _Friday_ is devoted to sweeping and housecleaning. On _Saturday_, and especially the last Saturday of every month, every department is put in order; the castors and table furniture are regulated, the pantry and cellar inspected, the trunks, drawers, and closets arranged, and every thing about the house, put in order for _Sunday_. All the cooking, needed for Sunday, is also prepared. By this regular recurrence of a particular time, for inspecting every thing, nothing is forgotten till ruined by neglect. Another mode of systematizing, relates to providing proper supplies of conveniences, and proper places in which to keep them. Thus, some ladies keep a large closet, in which are placed the tubs, pails, dippers, soap-dishes, starch, bluing, clothes-line, clothes-pins, and every other article used in washing; and in the same, or another, place, are kept every convenience for ironing. In the sewing department, a trunk, with suitable partitions, is provided, in which are placed, each in its proper place, white thread of all sizes, colored thread, yarns for mending, colored and black sewing-silks and twist, tapes and bobbins of all sizes, white and colored welting-cords, silk braids and cords, needles of all sizes, papers of pins, remnants of linen and colored cambric, a supply of all kinds of buttons used in the family, black and white hooks and eyes, a yard measure, and all the patterns used in cutting and fitting. These are done up in separate parcels, and labelled. In another trunk, are kept all pieces used in mending, arranged in order, so that any article can be found, without loss of time. A trunk, like the first mentioned, will save many steps, and often much time and perplexity; while by purchasing articles thus by the quantity, they come much cheaper, than if bought in little portions as they are wanted. Such a trunk should be kept locked, and a smaller supply, for current use, retained in a workbasket. A full supply of all conveniences in the kitchen and cellar, and a place appointed for each article, very much facilitates domestic labor. For want of this, much vexation and loss of time is occasioned, while seeking vessels in use, or in cleansing those employed by different persons, for various purposes. It would be far better, for a lady to give up some expensive article, in the parlor, and apply the money, thus saved, for kitchen conveniences, than to have a stinted supply, where the most labor is to be performed. If our Countrywomen would devote more to comfort and convenience, and less to show, it would be a great improvement. Expensive mirrors and pier-tables in the parlor, and an unpainted, gloomy, ill-furnished kitchen, not unfrequently are found under the same roof. Another important item, in systematic economy, is, the apportioning of _regular_ employment to the various members of a family. If a housekeeper can secure the cooperation of _all_ her family, she will find, that "many hands make light work." There is no greater mistake, than in bringing up children to feel that they must be taken care of, and waited on, by others, without any corresponding obligations on their part. The extent, to which young children can be made useful, in a family, would seem surprising, to those who have never seen a _systematic_ and _regular_ plan for securing their services. The writer has been in a family, where a little girl, of eight or nine years of age, washed and dressed herself and young brother, and made their small beds, before breakfast, set and cleared all the tables, at meals, with a little help from a grown person in moving tables and spreading cloths, while all the dusting of parlors and chambers was also neatly performed by her. A brother, of ten years old, brought in and piled all the wood, used in the kitchen and parlor, brushed the boots and shoes, neatly, went on errands, and took all the care of the poultry. They were children, whose parents could afford to hire servants to do this, but who chose to have their children grow up healthy and industrious, while proper instruction, system, and encouragement, made these services rather a pleasure, than otherwise, to the children. Some parents pay their children for such services; but this is hazardous, as tending to make them feel that they are not bound to be helpful without pay, and also as tending to produce a hoarding, money-making spirit. But, where children have no hoarding propensities, and need to acquire a sense of the value of property, it may be well to let them earn money, for some extra services, rather as a favor. When this is done, they should be taught to spend it for others, as well as for themselves; and in this way, a generous and liberal spirit will be cultivated. There are some mothers, who take pains to teach their boys most of the domestic arts, which their sisters learn. The writer has seen boys, mending their own garments, and aiding their mother or sisters in the kitchen, with great skill and adroitness; and at an early age, they usually very much relish joining in such occupations. The sons of such mothers, in their college life, or in roaming about the world, or in nursing a sick wife or infant, find occasion to bless the forethought and kindness, which prepared them for such emergencies. Few things are in worse taste, than for a man needlessly to busy himself in women's work; and yet a man never appears in a more interesting attitude, than when, by skill in such matters, he can save a mother or wife from care and suffering. The more a boy is taught to use his hands, in every variety of domestic employment, the more his faculties, both of mind and body, are developed; for mechanical pursuits exercise the intellect, as well as the hands. The early training of New-England boys, in which they turn their hand to almost every thing, is one great reason of the quick perceptions, versatility of mind, and mechanical skill, for which that portion of our Countrymen is distinguished. The writer has known one mode of systematizing the aid of the older children in a family, which, in some cases of very large families, it may be well to imitate. In the case referred to, when the oldest daughter was eight or nine years old, an infant sister was given to her, as her special charge. She tended it, made and mended its clothes, taught it to read, and was its nurse and guardian, through all its childhood. Another infant was given to the next daughter, and thus the children were all paired in this interesting relation. In addition to the relief thus afforded to the mother, the elder children were in this way qualified for their future domestic relations, and both older and younger bound to each other by peculiar ties of tenderness and gratitude. In offering these examples, of various modes of systematizing, one suggestion may be worthy of attention. It is not unfrequently the case, that ladies, who find themselves cumbered with oppressive cares, after reading remarks on the benefits of system, immediately commence the task of arranging their pursuits, with great vigor and hope. They divide the day into regular periods, and give each hour its duty; they systematize their work, and endeavor to bring every thing into a regular routine. But, in a short time, they find themselves baffled, discouraged, and disheartened, and finally relapse into their former desultory ways, in a sort of resigned despair. The difficulty, in such cases, is, that they attempt too much at a time. There is nothing, which so much depends upon _habit_, as a systematic mode of performing duty; and, where no such habit has been formed, it is impossible for a novice to start, at once, into a universal mode of systematizing, which none but an adept could carry through. The only way for such persons, is, to begin with a little at a time. Let them select some three or four things, and resolutely attempt to conquer at these points. In time, a habit will be formed, of doing a few things at regular periods, and in a systematic way. Then it will be easy to add a few more; and thus, by a gradual process, the object can be secured, which it would be vain to attempt, by a more summary course. Early rising is almost an indispensable condition to success, in such an effort; but, where a woman lacks either the health or the energy to secure a period for devotional duties before breakfast, let her select that hour of the day, in which she will be least liable to interruption, and let her then seek strength and wisdom from the only true Source. At this time, let her take a pen, and make a list of all the things which she considers as duties. Then, let a calculation be made, whether there be time enough, in the day or the week, for all these duties. If there be not, let the least important be stricken from the list, as not being duties, and which must be omitted. In doing this, let a woman remember, that, though "what we shall eat, and what we shall drink, and wherewithal we shall be clothed," are matters requiring due attention, they are very apt to obtain a wrong relative importance, while social, intellectual, and moral, interests, receive too little regard. In this Country, eating, dressing, and household furniture and ornaments, take far too large a place in the estimate of relative importance; and it is probable, that most women could modify their views and practice, so as to come nearer to the Saviour's requirements. No woman has a right to put a stitch of ornament on any article of dress or furniture, or to provide one superfluity in food, until she is sure she can secure time for all her social, intellectual, benevolent, and religious, duties. If a woman will take the trouble to make such a calculation as this, she will usually find that she has time enough, to perform all her duties easily and well. It is impossible, for a conscientious woman to secure that peaceful mind, and cheerful enjoyment of life, which all should seek, who is constantly finding her duties jarring with each other, and much remaining undone, which she feels that she ought to do. In consequence of this, there will be a secret uneasiness, which will throw a shade over the whole current of life, never to be removed, till she so efficiently defines and regulates her duties, that she can fulfil them all. And here the writer would urge upon young ladies, the importance of forming habits of system, while unembarrassed with those multiplied cares, which will make the task so much more difficult and hopeless. Every young lady can systematize her pursuits, to a certain extent. She can have a particular day for mending her wardrobe, and for arranging her trunks, closets, and drawers. She can keep her workbasket, her desk at school, and all her other conveniences, in their proper places, and in regular order. She can have regular periods for reading, walking, visiting, study, and domestic pursuits. And, by following this method, in youth, she will form a taste for regularity, and a habit of system, which will prove a blessing to her, through life. CHAPTER XV. ON GIVING IN CHARITY. It is probable, that there is no point of duty, where conscientious persons differ more in opinion, or where they find it more difficult to form discriminating and decided views, than on the matter of charity. That we are bound to give _some_ of our time, money, and efforts, to relieve the destitute, all allow. But, as to how much we are to give, and on whom our charities shall be bestowed, many a reflecting mind has been at a loss. Yet it seems very desirable, that, in reference to a duty so constantly and so strenuously urged by the Supreme Ruler, we should be able so to fix metes and bounds, as to keep a conscience void of offence, and to free the mind from disquieting fears of deficiency. The writer has found no other topic of investigation so beset with difficulty, and so absolutely without the range of definite rules, which can apply to all, in all circumstances. But on this, as on a previous topic, there seem to be _general principles_, by the aid of which, any candid mind, sincerely desirous of obeying the commands of Christ, however much self-denial may be involved, can arrive at definite conclusions, as to its own individual obligations, so that, when these are fulfilled, the mind may be at peace. But, for a mind that is worldly, living mainly to seek its own pleasures, instead of living to please God, no principles can be so fixed, as not to leave a ready escape from all obligation. Such minds, either by indolence (and consequent ignorance) or by sophistry, will convince themselves, that a life of engrossing self-indulgence, with perhaps the gift of a few dollars, and a few hours of time, may suffice, to fulfil the requisitions of the Eternal Judge. For such minds, no reasonings will avail, till the heart is so changed, that, to learn the will and follow the example of Jesus Christ, become the leading objects of interest and effort. It is to aid those, who profess to possess this temper of mind, that the following suggestions are offered. The first consideration, which gives definiteness to this subject, is, a correct view of the object for which we are placed in this world. A great many even of professed Christians, seem to be acting on the supposition, that the object of life is to secure as much as possible of all the various enjoyments placed within reach. Not so, teaches reason or revelation. From these, we learn, that, though the happiness of His creatures, is the end for which God created and sustains them, yet, that this happiness depends, not on the various modes of gratification put within our reach, but mainly on _character_. A man may possess all the resources for enjoyment which this world can afford, and yet feel that "all is vanity and vexation of spirit," and that he is supremely wretched. Another, may be in want of all things, and yet possess that living spring of benevolence, faith, and hope, which will make an Eden of the darkest prison. In order to be perfectly happy, man must attain that character, which Christ exhibited; and the nearer he approaches it, the more will happiness reign in his breast. But what was the grand peculiarity of the character of Christ? It was _self-denying benevolence_. He came not to "seek His own;" He "went about doing good," and this was His "meat and drink;" that is, it was this which sustained the health and life of His mind, as food and drink sustain the health and life of the body. Now, the mind of man is so made, that it can gradually be transformed into the same likeness. A selfish being, who, for a whole life, has been nourishing habits of indolent self-indulgence, can, by taking Christ as his example, by communion with Him, and by daily striving to imitate His character and conduct, form such a temper of mind, that "doing good" will become the chief and highest source of enjoyment. And this heavenly principle will grow stronger and stronger, until self-denial loses the more painful part of its character, and then, _living to make happiness_, will be so delightful and absorbing a pursuit, that all exertions, regarded as the means to this end, will be like the joyous efforts of men, when they strive for a prize or a crown, with the full hope of success. In this view of the subject, efforts and self-denial, for the good of others, are to be regarded, not merely as duties enjoined for the benefit of others, but as the moral training indispensable to the formation of that character, on which depends our own happiness. This view, exhibits the full meaning of the Saviour's declaration, "how hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God!" He had before taught, that the kingdom of Heaven consisted, not in such enjoyments as the worldly seek, but, in the temper of self-denying benevolence, like His own; and, as the rich have far greater temptations to indolent self-indulgence, they are far less likely to acquire this temper, than those, who, by limited means, are inured to some degree of self-denial. But, on this point, one important distinction needs to be made; and that is, between the self-denial, which has no other aim than mere self-mortification, and that, which is exercised to secure greater good to ourselves and others. The first is the foundation of monasticism, penances, and all other forms of asceticism; the latter, only, is that which Christianity requires. A second consideration, which may give definiteness to this subject, is, that the formation of a perfect character, involves, not the extermination of any principles of our nature, but rather the regulating of them, according to the rules of reason and religion; so that the lower propensities shall always be kept subordinate to nobler principles. Thus, we are not to aim at destroying our appetites, or at needlessly denying them, but rather so to regulate them, that they shall best secure the objects for which they were implanted. We are not to annihilate the love of praise and admiration; but so to control it, that the favor of God shall be regarded more than the estimation of men. We are not to extirpate the principle of curiosity, which leads us to acquire knowledge; but so to direct it, that all our acquisitions shall be useful and not frivolous or injurious. And thus, with all the principles of the mind, God has implanted no desires in our constitution, which are evil and pernicious. On the contrary, all our constitutional propensities, either of mind or body, He designed we should gratify, whenever no evils would thence result, either to ourselves or others. Such passions as envy, ambition, pride, revenge, and hatred, are to be exterminated; for they are either excesses or excrescences: not created by God, but rather the result of our own neglect to form habits of benevolence and self-control. In deciding the rules of our conduct, therefore, we are ever to bear in mind, that the developement of the nobler principles, and the subjugation of inferior propensities to them, is to be the main object of effort, both for ourselves and for others. And, in conformity with this, in all our plans, we are to place religious and moral interests as first in estimation, our social and intellectual interests, next, and our physical gratifications, as subordinate to all. A third consideration, is, that, though the means for sustaining life and health are to be regarded as necessaries, without which no other duties can be performed, yet, that a very large portion of the time, spent by most persons, in easy circumstances, for food, raiment, and dwellings, are for mere _superfluities_, which _are right, when they do not involve the sacrifice of higher interests_, and _wrong, when they do_. Life and health can be sustained in the humblest dwellings, with the plainest dress, and the simplest food; and, after taking from our means, what is necessary for life and health, the remainder is to be so divided, that the larger portion shall be given to supply the moral and intellectual wants of ourselves and others, and the smaller share to procure those additional gratifications, of taste and appetite, which are desirable, but not indispensable. Mankind, thus far, have never made this apportionment of their means; yet, just as fast as they have risen from a savage state, mere physical wants have been made, to an increasing extent, subordinate to higher objects. Another very important consideration, is, that, in urging the duty of charity, and the prior claims of moral and religious objects, no rule of duty should be maintained, which it would not be right and wise for _all_ to follow. And we are to test the wisdom of any general rule, by inquiring what would be the result, if all mankind should practise according to it. In view of this, we are enabled to judge of the correctness of those, who maintain, that, to be consistent, men believing in the eternal destruction of all those of our race who are not brought under the influence of the Christian system, should give up, not merely the elegances, but all the superfluities, of life, and devote the whole of their means, not indispensable to life and health, for the propagation of Christianity. But, if this is the duty of any, it is the duty of all; and we are to inquire what would be the result, if all conscientious persons gave up the use of all superfluities. Suppose, that two millions of the people in the United States, were conscientious persons, and relinquished the use of every thing not absolutely necessary to life and health. It would instantly throw out of employment one half of the whole community. The manufacturers, mechanics, merchants, agriculturists, and all the agencies they employ, would be beggared, and one half of those not reduced to poverty, would be obliged to spend all their extra means, in simply supplying necessaries to the other half. The use of superfluities, therefore, to a certain extent, is as indispensable to promote industry, virtue, and religion, as any direct giving of money or time; and it is owing entirely to a want of reflection, and of comprehensive views, that any men ever make so great a mistake, as is here exhibited. Instead, then, of urging a rule of duty which is at once irrational and impracticable, there is another course, which commends itself to the understandings of all. For whatever may be the _practice_, of intelligent men, they universally concede the _principle_, that our physical gratifications should always be made subordinate to social, intellectual, and moral, advantages. And all that is required, for the advancement of our whole race to the most perfect state of society, is, simply, that men should act in agreement with this principle. And, if only a very small portion, of the most intelligent of our race, should act according to this rule, under the control of Christian benevolence, the immense supplies, furnished, for the general good, would be far beyond what any would imagine, who had never made any calculations on the subject. In this Nation, alone, suppose the one million and more, of professed followers of Christ, should give a larger portion of their means, for the social, intellectual, and moral, wants of mankind, than for the superfluities that minister to taste, convenience, and appetite; it would be enough to furnish all the schools, colleges, Bibles, ministers, and missionaries, that the whole world could demand; or, at least, it would be far more, than properly qualified agents to administer it, could employ. But, it may be objected, that, though this view is one, which, in the abstract, looks plausible and rational, not one in a thousand, can practically adopt it. How few keep any account, at all, of their current expenses! How impossible it is, to determine, exactly, what are necessaries, and what are superfluities! And in regard to women, how few have the control of an income, so as not to be bound by the wishes of a parent or a husband! In reference to these difficulties, the first remark is, that we are never under obligations to do, what is entirely out of our power, so that those persons, who have no power to regulate their expenses or their charities, are under no sort of obligation to attempt it. The second remark is, that, when a rule of duty is discovered, we are bound to _aim_ at it, and to fulfil it, just so far as we can. We have no right to throw it aside, because we shall find some difficult cases, when we come to apply it. The third remark is, that no person can tell how much can be done, till a faithful trial has been made. If a woman has never kept any accounts, nor attempted to regulate her expenditures by the right rule, nor used her influence with those that control her plans, to secure this object, she has no right to say how much she can, or cannot, do, till after a fair trial has been made. In attempting such a trial, the following method can be taken. Let a woman keep an account of all she spends, for herself and her family, for a year, arranging the items under three general heads. Under the first, put all articles for food, raiment, rent, wages, and all conveniences. Under the second, place all sums paid in securing an education, and books, and other intellectual advantages. Under the third head, place all that is spent for benevolence and religion. At the end of the year, the first and largest account will show the mixed items of necessaries and superfluities, which can be arranged, so as to gain some sort of idea how much has been spent for superfluities, and how much for necessaries. Then, by comparing what is spent for superfluities, with what is spent for intellectual and moral advantages, data will be gained, for judging of the past, and regulating the future. Does a woman say she cannot do this? let her inquire, whether the offer of a thousand dollars, as a reward for attempting it one year, would not make her undertake to do it; and, if so, let her decide, in her own mind, which is most valuable, a clear conscience, and the approbation of God, in this effort to do His will, or one thousand dollars. And let her do it, with this warning of the Saviour before her eyes,--"No man can serve two masters." "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." Is it objected, How can we decide between superfluities and necessaries, in this list? it is replied, that we are not required to judge exactly, in all cases. Our duty is, to use the means in our power to assist us in forming a correct judgement; to seek the Divine aid in freeing our minds from indolence and selfishness; and then to judge as well as we can, in our endeavors rightly to apportion and regulate our expenses. Many persons seem to feel that they are bound to do better than they know how. But God is not so hard a Master; and, after we have used all proper means to learn the right way, if we then follow it, according to our ability, we do wrong to feel misgivings, or to blame ourselves, if results come out differently from what seems desirable. The results of our actions, alone, can never prove us deserving of blame. For men are often so placed, that, owing to lack of intellect or means, it is impossible for them to decide correctly. To use all the means of knowledge within our reach, and then to judge, with a candid and conscientious spirit, is all that God requires; and, when we have done this, and the event seems to come out wrong, we should never wish that we had decided otherwise. For it is the same as wishing that we had not followed the dictates of judgement and conscience. As this is a world designed for discipline and trial, untoward events are never to be construed as indications of the obliquity of our past decisions. But it is probable, that a great portion of the women of this Nation, cannot secure any such systematic mode of regulating their expenses. To such, the writer would propose one inquiry; cannot you calculate how much _time_ and _money_ you spend for what is merely ornamental, and not necessary, for yourself, your children, and your house? Cannot you compare this with the time and money you spend for intellectual and benevolent purposes? and will not this show the need of some change? In making this examination, is not this brief rule, deducible from the principles before laid down, the one which should regulate you? Every person does right, in spending _some_ portion of time and means in securing the conveniences and adornments of taste; but the amount should never exceed what is spent in securing our own moral and intellectual improvement, nor exceed what is spent in benevolent efforts to supply the physical and moral wants of our fellow-men. In making an examination on this subject, it is sometimes the case, that a woman will count among the _necessaries_ of life, all the various modes of adorning the person or house, practised in the circle in which she moves; and, after enumerating the many _duties_ which demand attention, counting these as a part, she will come to the conclusion, that she has no time, and but little money, to devote to personal improvement, or to benevolent enterprises. This surely is not in agreement with the requirements of the Saviour, who calls on us to seek for others, as well as ourselves, _first of all_, "the kingdom of God, and His righteousness." In order to act in accordance with the rule here presented, it is true, that many would be obliged to give up the idea of conforming to the notions and customs of those, with whom they associate, and compelled to adopt the maxim, "be not conformed to this world." In many cases, it would involve an entire change in the style of living. And the writer has the happiness of knowing more cases than one, where persons, who have come to similar views, on this subject, have given up large and expensive establishments, disposed of their carriages, dismissed a portion of their domestics, and modified all their expenditures, that they might keep a pure conscience, and regulate their charities more according to the requirements of Christianity. And there are persons, well known in the religious world, who save themselves all labor of minute calculation, by devoting so large a portion of their time and means to benevolent objects, that they find no difficulty in knowing that they give more for religious, benevolent, and intellectual, purposes, than for superfluities. In deciding what particular objects shall receive our benefactions, there are also general principles to guide us. The first, is that presented by our Saviour, when, after urging the great law of benevolence, He was asked, "and who is my neighbor?" His reply, in the parable of 'the Good Samaritan,' teaches us, that any human being, whose wants are brought to our knowledge, is our neighbor. The wounded man was not only a stranger, but he belonged to a foreign nation, peculiarly hated; and he had no claim, except that his wants were brought to the knowledge of the wayfaring man. From this, we learn, that the destitute, of all nations, become our neighbors, as soon as their wants are brought to our knowledge. Another general principle, is this, that those who are most in need, must be relieved, in preference to those who are less destitute. On this principle, it is, that we think the followers of Christ should give more to supply those who are suffering for want of the bread of eternal life, than for those who are deprived of physical enjoyments. And another reason for this preference, is, the fact, that many, who give in charity, have made such imperfect advances in civilization and Christianity, that the intellectual and moral wants of our race make but a feeble impression on the mind. Relate a pitiful tale of a family, reduced to live, for weeks, on potatoes, only, and many a mind would awake to deep sympathy, and stretch forth the hand of charity. But describe cases, where the immortal mind is pining in stupidity and ignorance, or racked with the fever of baleful passions, and how small the number, so elevated in sentiment, and so enlarged in their views, as to appreciate and sympathize in these far greater misfortunes! The intellectual and moral wants of our fellow-men, therefore, should claim the first place in our attention, both because they are most important, and because they are most neglected. Another consideration, to be borne in mind, is, that, in this Country, there is much less real need of charity, in supplying physical necessities, than is generally supposed, by those who have not learned the more excellent way. This Land is so abundant in supplies, and labor is in such demand, that every healthy person can earn a comfortable support. And if all the poor were instantly made virtuous, it is probable that there would be no physical wants, which could not readily be supplied by the immediate friends of each sufferer. The sick, the aged, and the orphan, would be the only objects of charity. In this view of the case, the primary effort, in relieving the poor, should be, to furnish them the means of earning their own support, and to supply them with those moral influences, which are most effectual in securing virtue and industry. Another point to be attended to, is, the importance of maintaining a system of _associated_ charities. There is no point, in which the economy of charity has more improved, than in the present mode of combining many small contributions, for sustaining enlarged and systematic plans of charity. If all the half-dollars, which are now contributed to aid in organized systems of charity, were returned to the donors, to be applied by the agency and discretion of each, thousands and thousands of the treasures, now employed to promote the moral and intellectual wants of mankind, would become entirely useless. In a democracy, like ours, where few are very rich, and the majority are in comfortable circumstances, this collecting and dispensing of drops and rills, is the mode, by which, in imitation of Nature, the dews and showers are to distil on parched and desert lands. And every person, while earning a pittance to unite with many more, may be cheered with the consciousness of sustaining a grand system of operations, which must have the most decided influence, in raising all mankind to that perfect state of society, which Christianity is designed to secure. Another consideration, relates to the indiscriminate bestowal of charity. Persons, who have taken pains to inform themselves, and who devote their whole time to dispensing charities, unite in declaring, that this is one of the most fruitful sources of indolence, vice, and poverty. From several of these, the writer has learned, that, by their own personal investigations, they have ascertained, that there are large establishments of idle and wicked persons, in most of our cities, who associate together, to support themselves by every species of imposition. They hire large houses, and live in constant rioting, on the means thus obtained. Among them, are women who have, or who hire the use of, infant children; others, who are blind, or maimed, or deformed, or who can adroitly feign such infirmities, and, by these means of exciting pity, and by artful tales of wo, they collect alms, both in city and country, to spend in all manner of gross and guilty indulgences. Meantime, many persons, finding themselves often duped by impostors, refuse to give at all; and thus many benefactions are withdrawn, which a wise economy in charity would have secured. For this, and other reasons, it is wise and merciful, to adopt the general rule, never to give alms, till we have had some opportunity of knowing how they will be spent. There are exceptions to this, as to every general rule, which a person of discretion can determine. But the practice, so common among benevolent persons, of giving, at least a trifle, to all who ask, lest, perchance, they may turn away some, who are really sufferers, is one, which causes more sin and misery than it cures. The writer has never known any system for dispensing charity, so successful, as the one which, in many places, has been adopted in connection with the distribution of tracts. By this method, a town or city is divided into districts; and each district is committed to the care of two ladies, whose duty it is, to call on each family and leave a tract, and make that the occasion for entering into conversation, and learning the situation of all residents in the district. By this method, the ignorant, the vicious, and the poor, are discovered, and their physical, intellectual, and moral, wants, are investigated. In some places, where the writer has resided or visited, each person retained the same district, year after year, so that every poor family in the place was under the watch and care of some intelligent and benevolent lady, who used all her influence to secure a proper education for the children, to furnish them with suitable reading, to encourage habits of industry and economy, and to secure regular attendance on public religious instruction. Thus, the rich and the poor were brought in contact, in a way advantageous to both parties; and, if such a system could be universally adopted, more would be done for the prevention of poverty and vice, than all the wealth of the Nation could avail for their relief. But this plan cannot be successfully carried out, in this manner, unless there is a large proportion of intelligent, benevolent, and self-denying, persons; and the mere distribution of tracts, without the other parts of the plan, is of very little avail. But there is one species of charity, which needs especial consideration. It is that, which induces us to refrain from judging of the means and the relative charities of other persons. There have been such indistinct notions, and so many different standards of duty, on this subject, that it is rare for two persons to think exactly alike, in regard to the rule of duty. Each person is bound to inquire and judge for himself, as to his own duty or deficiencies; but as both the resources, and the amount of the actual charities, of other men are beyond our ken, it is as indecorous, as it is uncharitable, to sit in judgement on their decisions. CHAPTER XVI. ON ECONOMY OF TIME AND EXPENSES. _On Economy of Time._ The value of time, and our obligation to spend every hour for some useful end, are what few minds properly realize. And those, who have the highest sense of their obligations in this respect, sometimes greatly misjudge in their estimate of what are useful and proper modes of employing time. This arises from limited views of the importance of some pursuits, which they would deem frivolous and useless, but which are, in reality, necessary to preserve the health of body and mind, and those social affections, which it is very important to cherish. Christianity teaches, that, for all the time afforded us, we must give account to God; and that we have no right to waste a single hour. But time, which is spent in rest or amusement, is often as usefully employed, as if it were devoted to labor or devotion. In employing our time, we are to make suitable allowance for sleep, for preparing and taking food, for securing the means of a livelihood, for intellectual improvement, for exercise and amusement, for social enjoyments, and for benevolent and religious duties. And it is the _right apportionment_ of time, to these various duties, which constitutes its true economy. In making this apportionment, we are bound by the same rules, as relate to the use of property. We are to employ whatever portion is necessary to sustain life and health, as the first duty; and the remainder we are so to apportion, that our highest interests, shall receive the greatest allotment, and our physical gratifications, the least. The laws of the Supreme Ruler, when He became the civil as well as the religious Head of the Jewish theocracy, furnish an example, which it would be well for all attentively to consider, when forming plans for the apportionment of time and property. To properly estimate this example, it must be borne in mind, that the main object of God, was, to preserve His religion among the Jewish nation; and that they were not required to take any means to propagate it among other nations, as Christians are now required to extend Christianity. So low were they, in the scale of civilization and mental developement, that a system, which confined them to one spot, as an agricultural people, and prevented their growing very rich, or having extensive commerce with other nations, was indispensable to prevent their relapsing into the low idolatries and vices of the nations around them. The proportion of time and property, which every Jew was required to devote to intellectual, benevolent, and religious purposes, was as follows: In regard to property, they were required to give one tenth of all their yearly income, to support the Levites, the priests, and the religious service. Next, they were required to give the first fruits of all their corn, wine, oil, and fruits, and the first-born of all their cattle, for the Lord's treasury, to be employed for the priests, the widow, the fatherless, and the stranger. The first-born, also, of their children, were the Lord's, and were to be redeemed by a specified sum, paid into the sacred treasury. Besides this, they were required to bring a freewill offering to God, every time they went up to the three great yearly festivals. In addition to this, regular yearly sacrifices, of cattle and fowls, were required of each family, and occasional sacrifices for certain sins or ceremonial impurities. In reaping their fields, they were required to leave unreaped, for the poor, the corners; not to glean their fields, olive-yards, or vineyards; and, if a sheaf was left, by mistake, they were not to return for it, but leave it for the poor. When a man sent away a servant, he was thus charged: "Furnish him liberally out of thy flock, and out of thy floor, and out of thy wine-press." When a poor man came to borrow money, they were forbidden to deny him, or to take any interest; and if, at the sabbatical, or seventh, year, he could not pay, the debt was to be cancelled. And to this command, is added the significant caution, "Beware that there be not a thought in thy wicked heart, saying, the seventh year, the year of release, is at hand; and thine eye be evil against thy poor brother, and thou givest him nought; and he cry unto the Lord against thee, and it be sin unto thee. Thou shalt surely give him," "because that for this thing the Lord thy God shall bless thee in all thy works, and in all that thou puttest thine hand unto." Besides this, the Levites were distributed through the land, with the intention that they should be instructors and priests in every part of the nation. Thus, one twelfth of the people were set apart, having no landed property, to be priests and teachers; and the other tribes were required to support them liberally. In regard to the time taken from secular pursuits, for the support of religion, an equally liberal amount was demanded. In the first place, one seventh part of their time was taken for the weekly sabbath, when no kind of work was to be done. Then the whole nation were required to meet, at the appointed place, three times a year, which, including their journeys, and stay there, occupied eight weeks, or another seventh part of their time. Then the sabbatical year, when no agricultural labor was to be done, took another seventh of their time from their regular pursuits, as they were an agricultural people. This was the amount of time and property demanded by God, simply to sustain religion and morality within the bounds of that nation. Christianity demands the spread of its blessings to all mankind, and so the restrictions laid on the Jews are withheld, and all our wealth and time, not needful for our own best interest, is to be employed in improving the condition of our fellow-men. In deciding respecting the rectitude of our pursuits, we are bound to aim at some practical good, as the ultimate object. With every duty of this life, our benevolent Creator has connected some species of enjoyment, to draw us to perform it. Thus, the palate is gratified, by performing the duty of nourishing our bodies; the principle of curiosity is gratified, in pursuing useful knowledge; the desire of approbation is gratified, when we perform benevolent and social duties; and every other duty has an alluring enjoyment connected with it. But the great mistake of mankind has consisted in seeking the pleasures, connected with these duties, as the sole aim, without reference to the main end that should be held in view, and to which the enjoyment should be made subservient. Thus, men seek to gratify the palate, without reference to the question whether the body is properly nourished; and follow after knowledge, without inquiring whether it ministers to good or evil. But, in gratifying the implanted desires of our nature, we are bound so to restrain ourselves, by reason and conscience, as always to seek the main objects of existence--the highest good of ourselves and others; and never to sacrifice this, for the mere gratification of our sensual desires. We are to gratify appetite, just so far as is consistent with health and usefulness; and the desire for knowledge, just so far as will enable us to do most good by our influence and efforts; and no farther. We are to seek social intercourse, to that extent, which will best promote domestic enjoyment and kindly feelings among neighbors and friends; and we are to pursue exercise and amusement, only so far as will best sustain the vigor of body and mind. For the right apportionment of time, to these and various other duties, we are to give an account to our Creator and final Judge. Instead of attempting to give any very specific rules on this subject, some modes of economizing time will be suggested. The most powerful of all agencies, in this matter, is, that habit of system and order, in all our pursuits, which has been already pointed out. It is probable, that a regular and systematic employment of time, will enable a person to accomplish thrice the amount of labor, that could otherwise be performed. Another mode of economizing time, is, by uniting several objects in one employment. Thus, exercise, or charitable efforts, can be united with social enjoyments, as is done in associations for sewing, or visiting the poor. Instruction and amusement can also be combined. Pursuits like music, gardening, drawing, botany, and the like, unite intellectual improvement with amusement, social enjoyment, and exercise. With housekeepers, and others whose employments are various and desultory, much time can be saved by preparing employments for little intervals of leisure. Thus, some ladies make ready, and keep in the parlor, light work, to take up when detained there; some keep a book at hand, in the nursery, to read while holding or sitting by a sleeping infant. One of the most popular female poets of our Country very often shows her friends, at their calls, that the thread of the knitting, never need interfere with the thread of agreeable discourse. It would be astonishing, to one who had never tried the experiment, how much can be accomplished, by a little planning and forethought, in thus finding employment for odd intervals of time. But, besides economizing our own time, we are bound to use our influence and example to promote the discharge of the same duty by others. A woman is under obligations so to arrange the hours and pursuits of her family, as to promote systematic and habitual industry; and if, by late breakfasts, irregular hours for meals, and other hinderances of this kind, she interferes with, or refrains from promoting regular industry in, others, she is accountable to God for all the waste of time consequent on her negligence. The mere example of system and industry, in a housekeeper, has a wonderful influence in promoting the same virtuous habit in others. _On Economy in Expenses._ It is impossible for a woman to practise a wise economy in expenditures, unless she is taught how to do it, either by a course of experiments, or by the instruction of those who have had experience. It is amusing to notice the various, and oftentimes contradictory, notions of economy, among judicious and experienced housekeepers; for there is probably no economist, who would not be deemed lavish or wasteful, in some respects, by another and equally experienced and judicious person, who, in some different points, would herself be as much condemned by the other. These diversities are occasioned by dissimilar early habits, and by the different relative value assigned, by each, to the various modes of enjoyment, for which money is expended. But, though there may be much disagreement in minor matters, there are certain general principles, which all unite in sanctioning. The first, is, that care be taken to know the amount of income and of current expenses, so that the proper relative proportion be preserved, and the expenditures never exceed the means. Few women can do this, thoroughly, without keeping regular accounts. The habits of this Nation, especially among business-men, are so desultory, and the current expenses of a family, in many points, are so much more under the control of the man than of the woman, that many women, who are disposed to be systematic in this matter, cannot follow their wishes. But there are often cases, when much is left undone in this particular, simply because no effort is made. Yet every woman is bound to do as much as is in her power, to accomplish a systematic mode of expenditure, and the regulation of it by Christian principles. The following are examples of different methods which have been adopted, for securing a proper adjustment of expenses to the means. The first, is that of a lady, who kept a large boarding-house, in one of our cities. Every evening, before retiring, she took an account of the expenses of the day; and this usually occupied her not more than fifteen minutes, at a time. On each Saturday, she made an inventory of the stores on hand, and of the daily expenses, and also of what was due to her; and then made an exact estimate of her expenditures and profits. This, after the first two or three weeks, never took more than an hour, at the close of the week. Thus, by a very little time, regularly devoted to this object, she knew, accurately, her income, expenditures, and profits. Another friend of the writer, lives on a regular salary. The method adopted, in this case, is to calculate to what the salary amounts, each week. Then an account is kept, of what is paid out, each week, for rent, fuel, wages, and food. This amount of each week is deducted from the weekly income. The remainders of each week are added, at the close of a month, as the stock from which is to be taken, the dress, furniture, books, travelling expenses, charities, and all other expenditures. Another lady, whose husband is a lawyer, divides the year into four quarters, and the income into four equal parts. She then makes her plans, so that the expenses of one quarter shall never infringe on the income of another. So resolute is she, in carrying out this determination, that if, by any mischance, she is in want of articles before the close of a quarter, which she has not the means for providing, she will subject herself to temporary inconvenience, by waiting, rather than violate her rule. Another lady, whose husband is engaged in a business, which he thinks makes it impossible for him to know what his yearly income will be, took this method:--She kept an account of all her disbursements, for one year. This she submitted to her husband, and obtained his consent, that the same sum should be under her control, the coming year, for similar purposes, with the understanding, that she might modify future apportionments, in any way her judgement and conscience might approve. A great deal of uneasiness and discomfort is caused, to both husband and wife, in many cases, by an entire want of system and forethought, in arranging expenses. Both keep buying what they think they need, without any calculation as to how matters are coming out, and with a sort of dread of running in debt, all the time harassing them. Such never know the comfort of independence. But, if a man or woman will only calculate what their income is, and then plan so as to know that they are all the time living within it, they secure one of the greatest comforts, which wealth ever bestows, and what many of the rich, who live in a loose and careless way, never enjoy. It is not so much the amount of income, as the regular and correct apportionment of expenses, that makes a family truly comfortable. A man, with ten thousand a year, is often more harassed, for want of money, than the systematic economist, who supports a family on only six hundred a year. And the inspired command, "Owe no man any thing," can never be conscientiously observed, without a systematic adaptation of expenses to means. As it is very important that young ladies should learn systematic economy, in expenses, it will be a great benefit, for every young girl to begin, at twelve or thirteen years of age, to make her own purchases, and keep her accounts, under the guidance of her mother, or some other friend. And if parents would ascertain the actual expense of a daughter's clothing, for a year, and give the sum to her, in quarterly payments, requiring a regular account, it would be of great benefit in preparing her for future duties. How else are young ladies to learn to make purchases properly, and to be systematic and economical? The art of system and economy can no more come by intuition, than the art of watchmaking or bookkeeping; and how strange it appears, that so many young ladies take charge of a husband's establishment, without having had either instruction or experience in one of the most important duties of their station! The second general principle of economy, is, that, in apportioning an income, among various objects, the most important should receive the largest supply, and that all retrenchments be made in matters of less importance. In a previous chapter, some general principles have been presented, to guide in this duty. Some additional hints will here be added, on the same topic. In regard to dress and furniture, much want of judgement and good taste is often seen, in purchasing some expensive article, which is not at all in keeping with the other articles connected with it. Thus, a large sideboard, or elegant mirror, or sofa, which would be suitable only for a large establishment, with other rich furniture, is crowded into too small a room, with coarse and cheap articles around it. So, also, sometimes a parlor, and company-chamber, will be furnished in a style suitable only for the wealthy, while the table will be supplied with shabby linen, and imperfect crockery, and every other part of the house will look, in comparison with these fine rooms, mean and niggardly. It is not at all uncommon, to find very showy and expensive articles in the part of the house visible to strangers, when the children's rooms, kitchen, and other back portions, are on an entirely different scale. So in regard to dress, a lady will sometimes purchase an elegant and expensive article, which, instead of attracting admiration from the eye of taste, will merely serve as a decoy to the painful contrast of all other parts of the dress. A woman of real good taste and discretion, will strive to maintain a relative consistency between all departments, and not, in one quarter, live on a scale fitted only to the rich, and in another, on one appropriate only to the poor. Another mistake in economy, is often made, by some of the best-educated and most intelligent of mothers. Such will often be found spending day after day at needlework, when, with a comparatively small sum, this labor could be obtained of those who need the money, which such work would procure for them. Meantime, the daughters of the family, whom the mother is qualified to educate, or so nearly qualified, that she could readily keep ahead of her children, are sent to expensive boarding-schools, where their delicate frames, their pliant minds, and their moral and religious interests, are relinquished to the hands of strangers. And the expense, thus incurred, would serve to pay the hire of every thing the mother can do in sewing, four or five times over. The same want of economy is shown in communities, where, instead of establishing a good female school in their vicinity, the men of wealth send their daughters abroad, at double the expense, to be either educated or spoiled, as the case may be. Another species of poor economy, is manifested in neglecting to acquire and apply mechanical skill, which, in consequence, has to be hired from others. Thus, all the plain sewing will be done by the mother and daughters, while all that requires skill will be hired. Instead of this, others take pains to have their daughters instructed in mantuamaking, and the simpler parts of millinery, so that the plain work is given to the poor, who need it, and the more expensive and tasteful operations are performed in the family. The writer knows ladies, who not only make their own dresses, but also their caps, bonnets, and artificial flowers. Some persons make miscalculations in economy, by habitually looking up cheap articles, while others go to the opposite extreme, and always buy the best of every thing. Those ladies, who are considered the best economists, do not adopt either method. In regard to cheap goods, the fading colors, the damages discovered in use, the poorness of material, and the extra sewing demanded to replace articles lost by such causes, usually render them very dear, in the end. On the other hand, though some articles, of the most expensive kind, wear longest and best, yet, as a general rule, articles at medium prices do the best service. This is true of table and bed linens, broadcloths, shirtings, and the like; though, even in these cases, it is often found, that the coarsest and cheapest last the longest. Buying by wholesale, and keeping a large supply on hand, are economical only in large families, where the mistress is careful; but in other cases, the hazards of accident, and the temptation to a lavish use, will make the loss outrun the profits. There is one mode of economizing, which, it is hoped, will every year grow more rare; and that is, making penurious savings, by getting the poor to work as cheap as possible. Many amiable and benevolent women have done this, on principle, without reflecting on the want of Christian charity thus displayed. Let every woman, in making bargains with the poor, conceive herself placed in the same circumstances, toiling hour after hour, and day after day, for a small sum, and then deal with others as she would be dealt by in such a situation. _Liberal prices_, and _prompt payment_, should be an invariable maxim, in dealing with the poor. The third general principle of economy, is, that all articles should be so used, and taken care of, as to secure the longest service, with the least waste. Under this head, come many particulars in regard to the use and preservation of articles, which will be found more in detail in succeeding chapters. It may be proper, however, here to refer to one very common impression, as to the relative obligation of the poor and the rich in regard to economy. Many seem to suppose, that those who are wealthy, have a right to be lavish and negligent in the care of expenses. But this surely is a great mistake. Property is a talent, given by God, to spend for the welfare of mankind; and the needless waste of it, is as wrong in the rich, as it is in the poor. The rich are under obligations to apportion their income, to the various objects demanding attention, by the same rule as all others; and if this will allow them to spend more for superfluities than those of smaller means, it never makes it right to misuse or waste any of the bounties of Providence. Whatever is no longer wanted for their own enjoyment, should be carefully saved, to add to the enjoyment of others. It is not always that men understand the economy of Providence, in that unequal distribution of property, which, even under the most perfect form of government, will always exist. Many, looking at the present state of things, imagine that the rich, if they acted in strict conformity to the law of benevolence, would share all their property with their suffering fellow-men. But such do not take into account, the inspired declaration, that "a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth," or, in other words, life is made valuable, not by great possessions, but by such a character as prepares a man to enjoy what he holds. God perceives that human character can be most improved, by that kind of discipline, which exists, when there is something valuable to be gained by industrious efforts. This stimulus to industry could never exist, in a community where all are just alike, as it does in a state of society where every man sees, possessed by others, enjoyments, which he desires, and may secure by effort and industry. So, in a community where all are alike as to property, there would be no chance to gain that noblest of all attainments, a habit of self-denying benevolence, which toils for the good of others, and takes from one's own store, to increase the enjoyments of another. Instead, then, of the stagnation, both of industry and of benevolence, which would follow the universal and equable distribution of property, one class of men, by superior advantages of birth, or intellect, or patronage, come into possession of a great amount of capital. With these means, they are enabled, by study, reading, and travel, to secure expansion of mind, and just views of the relative advantages of moral, intellectual, and physical enjoyments. At the same time, Christianity imposes obligations, corresponding with the increase of advantages and means. The rich are not at liberty to spend their treasures for themselves, alone. Their wealth is given, by God, to be employed for the best good of mankind; and their intellectual advantages are designed, primarily, to enable them to judge correctly, in employing their means most wisely for the general good. Now, suppose a man of wealth inherits ten thousand acres of real estate: it is not his duty to divide it among his poor neighbors and tenants. If he took this course, it is probable, that most of them would spend all in thriftless waste and indolence, or in mere physical enjoyments. Instead, then, of thus putting his capital out of his hands, he is bound to retain, and so to employ, it, as to raise his neighbors and tenants to such a state of virtue and intelligence, that they can secure far more, by their own efforts and industry, than he, by dividing his capital, could bestow upon them. In this view of the subject, it is manifest, that the unequal distribution of property is no evil. The great difficulty is, that so large a portion of those who hold much capital, instead of using their various advantages for the greatest good of those around them, employ the chief of them for mere selfish indulgences; thus inflicting as much mischief on themselves, as results to others from their culpable neglect. A great portion of the rich seem to be acting on the principle, that the more God bestows on them, the less are they under obligation to practise any self-denial, in fulfilling his benevolent plan of raising our race to intelligence and holiness. There are not a few, who seem to imagine that it is a mark of gentility to be careless of expenses. But this notion, is owing to a want of knowledge of the world. As a general fact, it will be found, that persons of rank and wealth, abroad, are much more likely to be systematic and economical, than persons of inferior standing in these respects. Even the most frivolous, among the rich and great, are often found practising a rigid economy, in certain respects, in order to secure gratifications in another direction. And it will be found so common, among persons of vulgar minds, and little education, and less sense, to make a display of profusion and indifference to expense, as a mark of their claims to gentility, that the really genteel look upon it rather as a mark of low breeding. So that the sort of feeling, which some persons cherish, as if it were a degradation to be careful of small sums, and to be attentive to relative prices, in making purchases, is founded on mistaken notions of gentility and propriety. But one caution is needful, in regard to another extreme. When a lady of wealth, is seen roaming about in search of cheaper articles, or trying to beat down a shopkeeper, or making a close bargain with those she employs, the impropriety is glaring to all minds. A person of wealth has no occasion to spend time in looking for extra cheap articles; her time could be more profitably employed in distributing to the wants of others. And the practice of beating down tradespeople, is vulgar and degrading, in any one. A woman, after a little inquiry, can ascertain what is the fair and common price of things; and if she is charged an exorbitant sum, she can decline taking the article. If the price be a fair one, it is not becoming in her to search for another article which is below the regular charge. If a woman finds that she is in a store where they charge high prices, expecting to be beat down, she can mention, that she wishes to know the lowest price, as it is contrary to her principles to beat down charges. There is one inconsistency, worthy of notice, which is found among that class, who are ambitious of being ranked among the aristocracy of society. It has been remarked, that, in the real aristocracy of other lands, it is much more common, than with us, to practise systematic economy. And such do not hesitate to say so, when they cannot afford certain indulgences. This practice descends to subordinate grades; so that foreign ladies, when they come to reside among us, seldom hesitate in assigning the true reason, when they cannot afford any gratification. But in this Country, it will be found, that many, who are most fond of copying aristocratic examples, are, on this point, rather with the vulgar. Not a few of those young persons, who begin life with parlors and dresses in a style fitting only to established wealth, go into expenses, which they can ill afford; and are ashamed even to allow, that they are restrained from any expense, by motives of economy. Such a confession is never extorted, except by some call of benevolence; and then, they are very ready to declare that they cannot afford to bestow even a pittance. In such cases, it would seem as if the direct opposite of Christianity had gained possession of their tastes and opinions. They are ashamed to appear to deny themselves; but are very far from having any shame in denying the calls of benevolence. CHAPTER XVII. ON HEALTH OF MIND. There is such an intimate connection between the body and mind, that the health of one, cannot be preserved, without a proper care of the other. And it is from a neglect of this principle, that some of the most exemplary and conscientious persons in the world, suffer a thousand mental agonies, from a diseased state of body, while others ruin the health of the body, by neglecting the proper care of the mind. When the brain is excited, by stimulating drinks taken into the stomach, it produces a corresponding excitement of the mental faculties. The reason, the imagination, and all the powers, are stimulated to preternatural vigor and activity. In like manner, when the mind is excited by earnest intellectual effort, or by strong passions, the brain is equally excited, and the blood rushes to the head. Sir Astley Cooper records, that, in examining the brain of a young man who had lost a portion of his skull, whenever "he was agitated, by some opposition to his wishes," "the blood was sent, with increased force, to his brain," and the pulsations "became frequent and violent." The same effect was produced by any intellectual effort; and the flushed countenance, which attends earnest study or strong emotions of fear, shame, or anger, is an external indication of the suffused state of the brain from such causes. In exhibiting the causes, which injure the health of the mind, they will be found to be partly physical, partly intellectual, and partly moral. The first cause of mental disease and suffering, is not unfrequently found in the want of a proper supply of duly oxygenized blood. It has been shown, that the blood, in passing through the lungs, is purified, by the oxygen of the air combining with the superabundant hydrogen and carbon of the venous blood, thus forming carbonic acid and water, which are expired into the atmosphere. Every pair of lungs is constantly withdrawing from the surrounding atmosphere its healthful principle, and returning one, which is injurious to human life. When, by confinement, and this process, the atmosphere is deprived of its appropriate supply of oxygen, the purification of the blood is interrupted, and it passes, without being properly prepared, into the brain, producing languor, restlessness, and inability to exercise the intellect and feelings. Whenever, therefore, persons sleep in a close apartment, or remain, for a length of time, in a crowded or ill-ventilated room, a most pernicious influence is exerted on the brain, and, through this, on the mind. A person, who is often exposed to such influences, can never enjoy that elasticity and vigor of mind, which is one of the chief indications of its health. This is the reason, why all rooms for religious meetings, and all schoolrooms, and sleeping apartments, should be so contrived, as to secure a constant supply of fresh air from without. The minister, who preaches in a crowded and ill-ventilated apartment, loses much of his power to feel and to speak, while the audience are equally reduced, in their capability of attending. The teacher, who confines children in a close apartment, diminishes their ability to study, or to attend to his instructions. And the person, who habitually sleeps in a close room, impairs his mental energies, in a similar degree. It is not unfrequently the case, that depression of spirits, and stupor of intellect, are occasioned solely by inattention to this subject. Another cause of mental disease, is, the excessive exercise of the intellect or feelings. If the eye is taxed, beyond its strength, by protracted use, its blood-vessels become gorged, and the bloodshot appearance warns of the excess and the need of rest. The brain is affected, in a similar manner, by excessive use, though the suffering and inflamed organ cannot make its appeal to the eye. But there are some indications, which ought never to be misunderstood or disregarded. In cases of pupils, at school or at college, a diseased state, from over action, is often manifested by increased clearness of mind, and ease and vigor of mental action. In one instance, known to the writer, a most exemplary and industrious pupil, anxious to improve every hour, and ignorant or unmindful of the laws of health, first manifested the diseased state of her brain and mind, by demands for more studies, and a sudden and earnest activity in planning modes of improvement for herself and others. When warned of her danger, she protested that she never was better, in her life; that she took regular exercise, in the open air, went to bed in season, slept soundly, and felt perfectly well; that her mind was never before so bright and clear, and study never so easy and delightful. And at this time, she was on the verge of derangement, from which she was saved only by an entire cessation of all her intellectual efforts. A similar case occurred, under the eye of the writer, from over-excited feelings. It was during a time of unusual religious interest in the community, and the mental disease was first manifested, by the pupil bringing her Hymn-book or Bible to the class-room, and making it her constant resort, in every interval of school duty. It finally became impossible to convince her, that it was her duty to attend to any thing else; her conscience became morbidly sensitive, her perceptions indistinct, her deductions unreasonable, and nothing, but entire change of scene, exercise, and amusement, saved her. When the health of the brain was restored, she found that she could attend to the "one thing needful," not only without interruption of duty, or injury of health, but rather so as to promote both. Clergymen and teachers need most carefully to notice and guard against the danger here alluded to. Any such attention to religion, as prevents the performance of daily duties and needful relaxation, is dangerous, as tending to produce such a state of the brain, as makes it impossible to feel or judge correctly. And when any morbid and unreasonable pertinacity appears, much exercise, and engagement in other interesting pursuits, should be urged, as the only mode of securing the religious benefits aimed at. And whenever any mind is oppressed with care, anxiety, or sorrow, the amount of active exercise in the fresh air should be greatly increased, that the action of the muscles may withdraw the blood, which, in such seasons, is constantly tending too much to the brain. There has been a most appalling amount of suffering, derangement, disease, and death, occasioned by a want of attention to this subject, in teachers and parents. Uncommon precocity in children is usually the result of an unhealthy state of the brain; and, in such cases, medical men would now direct, that the wonderful child should be deprived of all books and study, and turned to play or work in the fresh air. Instead of this, parents frequently add fuel to the fever of the brain, by supplying constant mental stimulus, until the victim finds refuge in idiocy or an early grave. Where such fatal results do not occur, the brain, in many cases, is so weakened, that the prodigy of infancy sinks below the medium of intellectual powers in afterlife. In our colleges, too, many of the most promising minds sink to an early grave, or drag out a miserable existence, from this same cause. And it is an evil, as yet little alleviated by the increase of physiological knowledge. Every college and professional school, and every seminary for young ladies, needs a medical man, not only to lecture on physiology and the laws of health, but empowered, in his official capacity, to investigate the case of every pupil, and, by authority, to restrain him to such a course of study, exercise, and repose, as his physical system requires. The writer has found, by experience, that, in a large institution, there is one class of pupils who need to be restrained, by penalties, from late hours and excessive study, as much as another class need stimulus to industry. Under the head of excessive mental action, must be placed the indulgence of the imagination in _novel reading_ and _castle building_. This kind of stimulus, unless counterbalanced by physical exercise, not only wastes time and energies, but undermines the vigor of the nervous system. The imagination was designed, by our kind Creator, as the charm and stimulus to animate to benevolent activity; and its perverted exercise seldom fails to bring the appropriate penalty. A third cause of mental disease, is, the want of the appropriate exercise of the various faculties of the mind. On this point, Dr. Combe remarks, "We have seen, that, by disuse, muscle becomes emaciated, bone softens, blood-vessels are obliterated, and nerves lose their characteristic structure. The brain is no exception to this general rule. Of it, also, the tone is impaired by permanent inactivity, and it becomes less fit to manifest the mental powers with readiness and energy." It is "the withdrawal of the stimulus necessary for its healthy exercise, which renders solitary confinement so severe a punishment, even to the most daring minds. It is a lower degree of the same cause, which renders continuous seclusion from society so injurious, to both mental and bodily health." "_Inactivity of intellect and of feeling_ is a very frequent predisposing cause of every form of nervous disease. For demonstrative evidence of this position, we have only to look at the numerous victims to be found, among persons who have no call to exertion in gaining the means of subsistence, and no objects of interest on which to exercise their mental faculties and who consequently sink into a state of mental sloth and nervous weakness." "If we look abroad upon society, we shall find innumerable examples of mental and nervous debility from this cause. When a person of some mental capacity is confined, for a long time, to an unvarying round of employment, which affords neither scope nor stimulus for one half of his faculties, and, from want of education or society, has no external resources; his mental powers, for want of exercise, become blunted, and his perceptions slow and dull." "The intellect and feelings, not being provided with interests external to themselves, must either become inactive and weak, or work upon themselves and become diseased." "The most frequent victims of this kind of predisposition, are females of the middle and higher ranks, especially those of a nervous constitution and _good natural abilities_; but who, from an ill-directed education, possess nothing more solid than mere accomplishments, and have no materials of thought," and no "occupation to excite interest or _demand_ attention." "The liability of such persons to melancholy, hysteria, hypochondriasis, and other varieties of mental distress, really depends on a state of irritability of brain, induced by imperfect exercise." These remarks, of a medical man, illustrate the principles before indicated;--namely, that the demand of Christianity, that we live to promote the general happiness, and not merely for selfish indulgence, has for its aim, not only the general good, but the highest happiness, of the individual of whom it is required. A person possessed of wealth, who has nothing more noble to engage his attention, than seeking his own personal enjoyment, subjects his mental powers and moral feelings to a degree of inactivity, utterly at war with health of mind. And the greater the capacities, the greater are the sufferings which result from this cause. Any one, who has read the misanthropic wailings of Lord Byron, has seen the necessary result of great and noble powers bereft of their appropriate exercise, and, in consequence, becoming sources of the keenest suffering. It is this view of the subject, which has often awakened feelings of sorrow and anxiety in the mind of the writer, while aiding in the developement and education of superior female minds, in the wealthier circles. Not because there are not noble objects for interest and effort, abundant, and within reach of such minds; but because long-established custom has made it seem so Quixotic, to the majority, even of the professed followers of Christ, for a woman of wealth to practise any great self-denial, that few have independence of mind and Christian principle sufficient to overcome such an influence. The more a mind has its powers developed, the more does it aspire and pine after some object worthy of its energies and affections; and they are commonplace and phlegmatic characters, who are most free from such deep-seated wants. Many a young woman, of fine genius and elevated sentiment, finds a charm in Lord Byron's writings, because they present a glowing picture of what, to a certain extent, must be felt by every well-developed mind, which has no nobler object in life, than the pursuit of its own gratification. If young ladies of wealth could pursue their education, under the full conviction that the increase of their powers and advantages increased their obligations to use all for the good of society, and with some plan of benevolent enterprise in view, what new motives of interest would be added to their daily pursuits! And what blessed results would follow, to our beloved Country, if all well-educated females carried out the principles of Christianity, in the exercise of their developed powers! It is cheering to know, that there are women, among the most intelligent and wealthy, who can be presented as examples of what may be done, when there is a heart to do. A pupil of the writer is among this number, who, though a rich heiress, immediately, on the close of her school-life, commenced a course of self-denying benevolence, in the cause of education. She determined to secure a superior female institution, in her native place, which should extend the benefits of the best education to all in that vicinity, at a moderate charge. Finding no teacher on the ground, prepared to take the lead, and though herself a timid and retiring character, she began, with the aid of the governess in her mother's family, a daily school, superintending all, and teaching six hours a day. The liberal-minded and intelligent mother cooperated, and the result is a flourishing female seminary, with a large and beautiful and well-furnished building; the greater part of the means being supplied by the mother, and almost all by the members of that family connection. And both these ladies will testify, that no time or money, spent for any other object, has ever secured to them more real and abiding enjoyment, than witnessing the results of this successful and benevolent enterprise, which, for years to come, will pour forth blessings on society. Another lady could be pointed out, who, possessing some property, went into a new western village, built and furnished her schoolhouse, and established herself there, to aid in raising a community from ignorance and gross worldliness, to intelligence and virtue. And in repeated instances, among the friends and pupils of the writer, young ladies have left wealthy homes, and affectionate friends, to find nobler enjoyments, in benevolent and active exertions to extend intelligence and virtue, where such disinterested laborers were needed. In other cases, where it was not practicable to leave home, well-educated young ladies have interested themselves in common schools in the vicinity, aiding the teachers, by their sympathy, counsel, and personal assistance. Other ladies, of property and standing, having families to educate, and being well qualified for such duties, have relinquished a large portion of domestic labor and superintendence, which humbler minds could be hired to perform, devoted themselves to the education of their children, and received others, less fortunate, to share with their own these superior advantages. But, so long as the feeling widely exists, that the increase of God's bounties diminishes the obligations of self-denying service for the good of mankind, so long will well-educated women, in easy circumstances, shrink from such confinement and exertion. It is believed, however, that there are many benevolent and intelligent women, in this Country, who would gladly engage in such enterprises, were there any appropriate way within their reach. And it is a question, well deserving consideration, among those who guide the public mind in benevolent enterprises, whether some organization is not demanded, which shall bring the whole community to act systematically, in voluntary associations, to extend a proper education to every child in this Nation, and to bring into activity all the female enterprise and benevolence now lying dormant, for want of proper facilities to exercise them. There are hundreds of villages, which need teachers, and that would support them, if they were on the spot, but which never will send for them. And there are hundreds of females, now unemployed, who would teach, if a proper place, and home, and support, and escort, were provided for them. And there needs to be some enlarged and systematic plan, conducted by wise and efficient men, to secure these objects. Could such a plan, as the one suggested, be carried out, it is believed that many female minds, now suffering, from diseases occasioned by want of appropriate objects for their energies, would be relieved. The duties of a teacher exercise every intellectual faculty, to its full extent; while, in this benevolent service, all the social, moral, and benevolent, emotions, are kept in full play. The happiest persons the writer has ever known,--those who could say that they were as happy as they wished to be, in this world, (and she has seen such,)--were persons engaged in this employment. The indications of a diseased mind, owing to a want of the proper exercise of its powers, are, apathy, discontent, a restless longing for excitement, a craving for unattainable good, a diseased and morbid action of the imagination, dissatisfaction with the world, and factitious interest in trifles which the mind feels to be unworthy of its powers. Such minds sometimes seek alleviation in exciting amusements; others resort to the grosser enjoyments of sense. Oppressed with the extremes of languor, or over-excitement, or apathy, the body fails under the wearing process, and adds new causes of suffering to the mind. Such, the compassionate Saviour calls to his service, in these appropriate terms: "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me," "and ye shall find rest unto your souls." CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE CARE OF DOMESTICS. There is no point, where the women of this Country need more wisdom, patience, principle, and self-control, than in relation to those whom they employ in domestic service. The subject is attended with many difficulties, which powerfully influence the happiness of families; and the following suggestions are offered, to aid in securing right opinions and practice. One consideration, which it would be well to bear in mind, on this subject, is, that a large portion of the peculiar trials, which American women suffer from this source, are the necessary evils connected with our most valuable civil blessings. Every blessing of this life involves some attendant liability to evil, from the same source; and, in this case, while we rejoice at a state of society, which so much raises the condition and advantages of our sex, the evils involved should be regarded as more than repaid, by the compensating benefits. If we cannot secure the cringing, submissive, well-trained, servants of aristocratic lands, let us be consoled that we thus escape from the untold miseries and oppression, which always attend that state of society. Instead, then, of complaining that we cannot have our own peculiar advantages, and those of other nations, too, or imagining how much better off we should be, if things were different from what they are, it is much wiser and more Christianlike to strive cheerfully to conform to actual circumstances; and, after remedying all that we can control, patiently to submit to what is beyond our power. If domestics are found to be incompetent, unstable, and unconformed to their station, it is Perfect Wisdom which appoints these trials, to teach us patience, fortitude, and self-control; and, if the discipline is met, in a proper spirit, it will prove a blessing, rather than an evil. But, to judge correctly in regard to some of the evils involved in the state of domestic service, in this Country, we should endeavor to conceive ourselves placed in the situation of those, of whom complaint is made, that we may not expect, from them, any more than it would seem right should be exacted from us, in similar circumstances. It is sometimes urged, against domestics, that they exact exorbitant wages. But what is the rule of rectitude, on this subject? Is it not the universal law of labor and of trade, that an article is to be valued, according to its scarcity and the demand? When wheat is scarce, the farmer raises his price; and when a mechanic offers services, difficult to be obtained, he makes a corresponding increase of price. And why is it not right, for domestics to act according to a rule, allowed to be correct in reference to all other trades and professions? It is a fact, that really good domestic service must continue to increase in value, just in proportion as this Country waxes rich and prosperous; thus making the proportion of those, who wish to hire labor, relatively greater, and the number of those, willing to go to service, less. Money enables the rich to gain many advantages, which those of more limited circumstances cannot secure. One of these, is, securing good domestics, by offering high wages; and this, as the scarcity of this class increases, will serve constantly to raise the price of service. It is right for domestics to charge the market value, and this value is always decided by the scarcity of the article and the amount of demand. Right views of this subject, will sometimes serve to diminish hard feelings towards those, who would otherwise be wrongfully regarded as unreasonable and exacting. Another complaint against domestics, is, that of instability and discontent, leading to perpetual change. But in reference to this, let a mother or daughter conceive of their own circumstances as so changed, that the daughter must go out to service. Suppose a place is engaged, and it is then found that she must sleep in a comfortless garret; and that, when a new domestic comes, perhaps a coarse and dirty foreigner, she must share her bed with her. Another place is offered, where she can have a comfortable room, and an agreeable room-mate; in such a case, would not both mother and daughter think it right to change? Or, suppose, on trial, it was found that the lady of the house was fretful, or exacting, and hard to please; or, that her children were so ungoverned, as to be perpetual vexations; or, that the work was so heavy, that no time was allowed for relaxation and the care of a wardrobe;--and another place offers, where these evils can be escaped: would not mother and daughter here think it right to change? And is it not right for domestics, as well as their employers, to seek places, where they can be most comfortable? In some cases, this instability and love of change would be remedied, if employers would take more pains to make a residence with them agreeable; and to attach domestics to the family, by feelings of gratitude and affection. There are ladies, even where well-qualified domestics are most rare, who seldom find any trouble in keeping good and steady ones. And the reason is, that their domestics know they cannot better their condition, by any change within reach. It is not merely by giving them comfortable rooms, and good food, and presents, and privileges, that the attachment of domestics is secured; it is by the manifestation of a friendly and benevolent interest in their comfort and improvement. This is exhibited, in bearing patiently with their faults; in kindly teaching them how to improve; in showing them how to make and take proper care of their clothes; in guarding their health; in teaching them to read, if necessary, and supplying them with proper books; and, in short, by endeavoring, so far as may be, to supply the place of parents. It is seldom that such a course would fail to secure steady service, and such affection and gratitude, that even higher wages would be ineffectual to tempt them away. There would probably be some cases of ungrateful returns; but there is no doubt that the course indicated, if generally pursued, would very much lessen the evil in question. Another subject of complaint, in regard to domestics, is, their pride, insubordination, and spirit not conformed to their condition. They are not willing to be called _servants_; in some places, they claim a seat, at meals, with the family; they imitate a style of dress unbecoming their condition; and their manners and address are rude and disrespectful. That these evils are very common, among this class of persons, cannot be denied; the only question is, how can they best be met and remedied. In regard to the common feeling among domestics, which is pained and offended by being called "servants," there is need of some consideration and allowance. It should be remembered, that, in this Country, children, from their earliest years, are trained to abhor slavery, in reference to themselves, as the greatest of all possible shame and degradation. They are perpetually hearing orations, songs, and compositions of all sorts, which set forth the honor and dignity of freemen, and heap scorn and contempt on all who would be so mean as to be slaves. Now the term servant, and the duties it involves, are, in the minds of many persons, nearly the same as those of slave. And there are few minds, entirely free from associations which make servitude a degradation. It is not always pride, then, which makes this term so offensive. It is a consequence of that noble and generous spirit of freedom, which every American draws from his mother's breast, and which ought to be respected, rather than despised. In order to be respected, by others, we must respect ourselves; and sometimes the ruder classes of society make claims, deemed forward and offensive, when, with their views, such a position seems indispensable to preserve a proper self-respect. Where an excessive sensibility on this subject exists, and forward and disrespectful manners result from it, the best remedy is, a kind attempt to give correct views, such as better-educated minds are best able to attain. It should be shown to them, that, in this Country, labor has ceased to be degrading, in any class; that, in all classes, different grades of subordination must exist; and that it is no more degrading, for a domestic to regard the heads of a family as superiors in station, and treat them with becoming respect, than it is for children to do the same, or for men to treat their rulers with respect and deference. They should be taught, that domestics use a different entrance to the house, and sit at a distinct table, not because they are inferior beings, but because this is the best method of securing neatness, order, and convenience. They can be shown, if it is attempted in a proper spirit and manner, that these very regulations really tend to their own ease and comfort, as well as to that of the family. The writer has known a case, where the lady of the family, for the sake of convincing her domestic of the truth of these views, allowed her to follow her own notions, for a short time, and join the family at meals. It was merely required, as a condition, that she should always dress her hair as the other ladies did, and appear in a clean dress, and abide by all the rules of propriety at table, which the rest were required to practise, and which were duly detailed. The experiment was tried, two or three times; and, although the domestic was treated with studious politeness and kindness, she soon felt that she should be much more comfortable in the kitchen, where she could talk, eat, and dress, as she pleased. A reasonable domestic can also be made to feel the propriety of allowing opportunity for the family to talk freely of their private affairs, when they meet at meals, as they never could do, if restrained by the constant presence of a stranger. Such views, presented in a kind and considerate manner, will often entirely change the views of a domestic, who is sensitive on such subjects. When a domestic is forward and bold in manners, and disrespectful in address, a similar course can be pursued. It can be shown, that those, who are among the best-bred and genteel, have courteous and respectful manners and language to all they meet, while many, who have wealth, are regarded as vulgar, because they exhibit rude and disrespectful manners. The very term, _gentle_man, indicates the refinement and delicacy of address, which distinguishes the high-bred from the coarse and vulgar. In regard to appropriate dress, in most cases it is difficult for an employer to interfere, _directly_, with comments or advice. The most successful mode, is, to offer some service in mending or making a wardrobe, and when a confidence in the kindness of feeling is thus gained, remarks and suggestions will generally be properly received, and new views of propriety and economy can be imparted. In some cases, it may be well for an employer,--who, from appearances, anticipates difficulty of this kind,--in making the agreement, to state that she wishes to have the room, person, and dress of her domestics kept neat, and in order, and that she expects to remind them of their duty, in this particular, if it is neglected. Domestics are very apt to neglect the care of their own chambers and clothing; and such habits have a most pernicious influence on their wellbeing, and on that of their children in future domestic life. An employer, then, is bound to exercise a parental care over them, in these respects. In regard to the great deficiencies of domestics, in qualifications for their duties, much patience and benevolence are required. Multitudes have never been taught to do their work properly; and, in such cases, how unreasonable it would be to expect it of them! Most persons, of this class, depend, for their knowledge in domestic affairs, not on their parents, who are usually unqualified to instruct them, but on their employers; and if they live in a family where nothing is done neatly and properly, they have no chance to learn how to perform their duties well. When a lady finds that she must employ a domestic who is ignorant, awkward, and careless, her first effort should be, to make all proper allowance for past want of instruction, and the next, to remedy the evil, by kind and patient teaching. In doing this, it should ever be borne in mind, that nothing is more difficult, than to change old habits, and to learn to be thoughtful and considerate. And a woman must make up her mind to tell the same thing "over and over again," and yet not lose her patience. It will often save much vexation, if, on the arrival of a new domestic, the mistress of the family, or a daughter, will, for two or three days, go round with the novice, and show the exact manner in which it is expected the work will be done. And this, also, it may be well to specify in the agreement, as some domestics would otherwise resent such a supervision. But it is often remarked, that, after a woman has taken all this pains to instruct a domestic, and make her a good one, some other person will offer higher wages, and she will leave. This, doubtless, is a sore trial; but, if such efforts were made in the true spirit of benevolence, the lady will still have her reward, in the consciousness that she has contributed to the welfare of society, by making one more good domestic, and one more comfortable family where that domestic is employed; and if the latter becomes the mother of a family, a whole circle of children will share in the benefit. There is one great mistake, not unfrequently made, in the management both of domestics and of children; and that is, in supposing that the way to cure defects, is by finding fault as each failing occurs. But, instead of this being true, in many cases the directly opposite course is the best; while, in all instances, much good judgement is required, in order to decide when to notice faults, and when to let them pass unnoticed. There are some minds, very sensitive, easily discouraged, and infirm of purpose. Such persons, when they have formed habits of negligence, haste, and awkwardness, often need expressions of sympathy and encouragement, rather than reproof. They have usually been found fault with, so much, that they have become either hardened or desponding; and it is often the case, that a few words of commendation will awaken fresh efforts and renewed hope. In almost every case, words of kindness, confidence, and encouragement, should be mingled with the needful admonitions or reproof. It is a good rule, in reference to this point, to _forewarn_, instead of finding fault. Thus, when a thing has been done wrong, let it pass unnoticed, till it is to be done again; and then, a simple request, to have it done in the right way, will secure quite as much, and probably more, willing effort, than a reproof administered for neglect. Some persons seem to take it for granted, that young and inexperienced minds are bound to have all the forethought and discretion of mature persons; and freely express wonder and disgust, when mishaps occur for want of these traits. But it would be far better to save from mistake or forgetfulness, by previous caution and care on the part of those who have gained experience and forethought; and thus many occasions of complaint and ill-humor will be avoided. Those, who fill the places of heads of families, are not very apt to think how painful it is, to be chided for neglect of duty, or for faults of character. If they would sometimes imagine themselves in the place of those whom they control, with some person daily administering reproof to them, in the same _tone and style_ as they employ to those who are under them, it might serve as a useful check to their chidings. It is often the case, that persons, who are most strict and exacting, and least able to make allowances and receive palliations, are themselves peculiarly sensitive to any thing which implies that they are in fault. By such, the spirit implied in the Divine petition, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us," needs especially to be cherished. One other consideration, is very important. There is no duty, more binding on Christians, than that of patience and meekness under provocations and disappointment. Now, the tendency of every sensitive mind, when thwarted in its wishes, is, to complain and find fault, and that often in tones of fretfulness or anger. But there are few domestics, who have not heard enough of the Bible, to know that angry or fretful fault-finding, from the mistress of a family, when her work is not done to suit her, is not in agreement with the precepts of Christ. They notice and feel the inconsistency; and every woman, when she gives way to feelings of anger and impatience, at the faults of those around her, lowers herself in their respect, while her own conscience, unless very much blinded, cannot but suffer a wound. There are some women, who, in the main, are amiable, who seem impressed with the idea, that it is their office and duty to find fault with their domestics, whenever any thing is not exactly right, and follow their fancied calling without the least appearance of tenderness or sympathy, as if the objects of their discipline were stocks or stones. The writer once heard a domestic, describing her situation in a family which she had left, make this remark of her past employer: "She was a very good housekeeper, allowed good wages, and gave us many privileges and presents; but if we ever did any thing wrong, she always _talked to us just as if she thought we had no feelings_, and I never was so unhappy in my life, as while living with her." And this was said of a kind-hearted and conscientious woman, by a very reasonable and amiable domestic. Every woman, who has the care of domestics, should cultivate a habit of regarding them with that sympathy and forbearance, which she would wish for herself or her daughters, if deprived of parents, fortune, and home. The fewer advantages they have enjoyed, and the greater difficulties of temper or of habit they have to contend with, the more claims they have on compassionate forbearance. They ought ever to be looked upon, not as the mere ministers to our comfort and convenience, but as the humbler and more neglected children of our Heavenly Father, whom He has sent to claim our sympathy and aid.[N] FOOTNOTE: [N] The excellent little work of Miss Sedgwick, entitled 'Live, and Let Live,' contains many valuable and useful hints, conveyed in a most pleasing narrative form, which every housekeeper would do well to read. The writer also begs leave to mention a work of her own, entitled, 'Letters to Persons engaged in Domestic Service.' CHAPTER XIX. ON THE CARE OF INFANTS. Every young lady ought to learn how to take proper care of an infant; for, even if she is never to become the responsible guardian of a nursery, she will often be in situations where she can render benevolent aid to others, in this most fatiguing and anxious duty. The writer has known instances, in which young ladies, who, having been trained, by their mothers, properly to perform this duty, were, in some cases, the means of saving the lives of infants, and in others, of relieving, by their benevolent aid, sick mothers, from intolerable care and anguish. On this point, Dr. Combe remarks, "All women are not destined, in the course of Nature, to become mothers; but how very small is the number of those, who are unconnected, by family ties, friendship, or sympathy, with the children of others! How very few are there, who, at some time or other of their lives, would not find their usefulness and happiness increased, by the possession of a kind of knowledge, intimately allied to their best feelings and affections! And how important is it, to the mother herself, that her efforts should be seconded by intelligent, instead of ignorant, assistants!" In order to be prepared for such benevolent ministries, every young lady should improve the opportunity, whenever it is afforded her, for learning how to wash, dress, and tend, a young infant; and whenever she meets with such a work as Dr. Combe's, on the management of infants, she ought to read it, and _remember_ its contents. It was the design of the author, to fill this chapter chiefly with extracts from various medical writers, giving some of the most important directions on this subject; but finding these extracts too prolix for a work of this kind, she has condensed them into a shorter compass. Some are quoted verbatim, and some are abridged, chiefly from the writings of Doctors Combe, Bell, and Eberle, who are among the most approved writers on this subject. "Nearly one half of the deaths, occurring during the first two years of existence, are ascribable to mismanagement, and to errors in diet. At birth, the stomach is feeble, and as yet unaccustomed to food; its cravings are consequently easily satisfied, and frequently renewed." "At that early age, there ought to be no fixed time for giving nourishment. The stomach cannot be thus satisfied." "The active call of the infant, is a sign, which needs never be mistaken." But care must be taken to determine between the crying of pain or uneasiness, and the call for food; and the practice of giving an infant food, to stop its cries, is often the means of increasing its sufferings. After a child has satisfied its hunger, from two to four hours should intervene, before another supply is given. "At birth, the stomach and bowels, never having been used, contain a quantity of mucous secretion, which requires to be removed. To effect this, Nature has rendered the first portions of the mother's milk purposely watery and laxative. Nurses, however, distrusting Nature, often hasten to administer some active purgative; and the consequence often is, irritation in the stomach and bowels, not easily subdued." It is only where the child is deprived of its mother's milk, as the first food, that some gentle laxative should be given. "It is a common mistake, to suppose, that, because a woman is nursing, she ought to live very fully, and to add an allowance of wine, porter, or other fermented liquor, to her usual diet. The only result of this plan, is, to cause an unnatural fulness in the system, which places the nurse on the brink of disease, and retards, rather than increases, the food of the infant. More will be gained by the observance of the ordinary laws of health, than by any foolish deviation, founded on ignorance." There is no point, on which medical men so emphatically lift the voice of warning, as in reference to administering medicines to infants. It is so difficult to discover what is the matter with an infant, its frame is so delicate and so susceptible, and slight causes have such a powerful influence, that it requires the utmost skill and judgement to ascertain what would be proper medicines, and the proper quantity to be given. Says Dr. Combe, "That there are cases, in which active means must be promptly used, to save the child, is perfectly true. But it is not less certain, that these are cases, of which no mother or nurse ought to attempt the treatment. As a general rule, where the child is well managed, medicine, of any kind, is very rarely required; and if disease were more generally regarded in its true light, not as something thrust into the system, which requires to be expelled by force, but as an aberration from a natural mode of action, produced by some external cause, we should be in less haste to attack it by medicine, and more watchful in its prevention. Accordingly, where a constant demand for medicine exists in a nursery, the mother may rest assured, that there is something essentially wrong in the treatment of her children. "Much havoc is made among infants, by the abuse of calomel and other medicines, which procure momentary relief, but end by producing incurable disease; and it has often excited my astonishment, to see how recklessly remedies of this kind are had recourse to, on the most trifling occasions, by mothers and nurses, who would be horrified, if they knew the nature of the power they are wielding, and the extent of injury they are inflicting." Instead, then, of depending on medicine, for the preservation of the health and life of an infant, the following precautions and preventives should be adopted. Take particular care of the _food_ of an infant. If it is nourished by the mother, her own diet should be simple, nourishing, and temperate. If the child be brought up by hand, the milk of a new-milch cow, mixed with one third water, and sweetened a little with _white_ sugar, should be the only food given, until the teeth come. This is more suitable, than any preparations of flour or arrow-root, the nourishment of which is too highly concentrated. Never give a child _bread_, _cake_, or _meat_, before the teeth appear. If the food appear to distress the child, after eating, first ascertain if the milk be really from a new-milch cow, as it may otherwise be too old. Learn, also, whether the cow lives on proper food. Cows that are fed on _still-slops_, as is often the case in cities, furnish milk which is very unhealthful. Be sure and keep a good supply of pure and fresh air, in the nursery. On this point, Dr. Bell remarks, respecting rooms constructed without fireplaces, and without doors or windows to let in pure air, from without, "The sufferings of children of feeble constitutions, are increased, beyond measure, by such lodgings as these. _An action, brought by the Commonwealth_, ought to lie against those persons, who build houses for sale or rent, in which rooms are so constructed as not to allow of free ventilation; and _a writ of lunacy_ taken out against those, who, with the common-sense experience which all have on this head, should spend any portion of their time, still more, should sleep, in rooms thus nearly air-tight." After it is a month or two old, take an infant out to walk, or ride, in a little wagon, every fair and warm day; but be very careful that its feet, and every part of its body, are kept warm: and be sure that its eyes are well protected from the light. Weak eyes, and sometimes blindness, are caused by neglecting this precaution. Keep the head of an infant cool, never allowing too warm bonnets, nor permitting it to sink into soft pillows, when asleep. Keeping an infant's head too warm, very much increases nervous irritability; and this is the reason why medical men forbid the use of caps for infants. But the head of an infant should, especially while sleeping, be protected from draughts of air, and from getting cold. Be very careful of the skin of an infant, as nothing tends so effectually to prevent disease. For this end, it should be washed all over, every morning, and then gentle friction should be applied, with the hand, to the back, stomach, bowels, and limbs. The head should be thoroughly washed, every day, and then brushed with a soft hair-brush, or combed with a fine comb. If, by neglect, dirt accumulates under the hair, apply, with the finger, the yolk of an egg, and then the fine comb will remove it all, without any trouble. Dress the infant, so that it will be always warm, but not so as to cause perspiration. Be sure and keep its feet _always_ warm; and, for this end, often warm them at a fire, and use long dresses. Keep the neck and arms covered. For this purpose, wrappers, open in front, made high in the neck, with long sleeves, to put on over the frock, are now very fashionable. It is better for both mother and child, that it should not sleep on the mother's arm, at night, unless the weather be extremely cold. This practice keeps the child too warm, and leads it to seek food too frequently. A child should ordinarily take nourishment but twice in the night. A crib beside the mother, with a plenty of warm and light covering, is best for the child; but the mother must be sure that it is always kept warm. Never cover a child's head, so that it will inhale the air of its own lungs. In very warm weather, especially in cities, great pains should be taken, to find fresh and cool air, by rides and sailing. Walks in a public square, in the cool of the morning, and frequent excursions in ferry or steam-boats, would often save a long bill for medical attendance. In hot nights, the windows should be kept open, and the infant laid on a mattress, or on folded blankets. A bit of straw matting, laid over a featherbed, and covered with the under sheet, makes a very cool bed for an infant. Cool bathing, in hot weather, is very useful; but the water should be very little cooler than the skin of the child. When the constitution is delicate, the water should be slightly warmed. Simply sponging the body, freely, in a tub, answers the same purpose as a regular bath. In very warm weather, this should be done two or three times a day, always waiting two or three hours after food has been given. "When the stomach is peculiarly irritable, (from teething,) it is of paramount necessity to withhold all the nostrums which have been so falsely lauded as 'sovereign cures for _cholera infantum_.' The true restoratives, to a child threatened with disease, are, cool air, cool bathing, and cool drinks of simple water, in addition to _proper_ food, at stated intervals." Do not take the advice of mothers, who tell of this, that, and the other thing, which have proved excellent remedies in their experience. Children have different constitutions, and there are multitudes of different causes for their sickness; and what might cure one child, might kill another, which _appeared_ to have the same complaint. A mother should go on the general rule, of giving an infant very little medicine, and then only by the direction of a discreet and experienced physician. And there are cases, when, according to the views of the most distinguished and competent practitioners, physicians themselves are much too free in using medicines, instead of adopting _preventive_ measures. Do not allow a child to form such habits, that it will not be quiet, unless tended and amused. A healthy child should be accustomed to lie or sit in its cradle, much of the time; but it should occasionally be taken up, and tossed, or carried about, for exercise and amusement. An infant should be encouraged to _creep_, as an exercise very strengthening and useful. If the mother fears the soiling of its nice dresses, she can keep a long slip or apron, which will entirely cover the dress, and can be removed, when the child is taken in the arms. A child should not be allowed, when quite young, to bear its weight on its feet, very long at a time, as this tends to weaken and distort the limbs. Many mothers, with a little painstaking, succeed in putting their infants, while awake, into their cradle, at regular hours, for sleep, and induce regularity in other habits, which saves much trouble. In doing this, a child may cry, at first, a great deal; but for a healthy child, this use of the lungs does no harm, and tends rather to strengthen, than to injure, them. A child who is trained to lie or sit, and amuse itself, is happier than one who is carried and tended a great deal, and thus rendered restless and uneasy when not so indulged. CHAPTER XX. ON THE MANAGEMENT OF YOUNG CHILDREN. In regard to the physical education of children, Dr. Clarke, Physician in Ordinary to the Queen of England, expresses views, on one point, in which most physicians would coincide. He says, "There is no greater error in the management of children, than that of giving them animal diet very early. By persevering in the use of an overstimulating diet, the digestive organs become irritated, and the various secretions, immediately connected with, and necessary to, digestion, are diminished, especially the _biliary secretion_. Children, so fed, become very liable to attacks of fever, and of inflammation, affecting, particularly, the mucous membranes; and measles, and the other diseases incident to childhood, are generally severe in their attack." There are some popular notions on the subject of the use of animal food, which need to be corrected. One mistake, is, in supposing that the formation of the human teeth and stomach indicate that man was designed to feed on flesh. Linnæus says, that the organization of man, when compared with other animals, shows, that "fruits and esculent vegetables constitute his most suitable food." Baron Cuvier, the highest authority on comparative anatomy, says, "the natural food of man, _judging from his structure_, appears to consist of fruits, roots, and other succulent parts of vegetables." Another common mistake, is, that the stimulus of animal food is necessary for the full developement of the physical and intellectual powers. This notion is disproved by facts. The inhabitants of Lapland and Kamtschatka, who live altogether on animal food, are among the smallest, weakest, and most timid, of races. But the Scotch Highlanders, who, in a very cold climate, live almost exclusively on milk and vegetable diet, are among the bravest, largest, and most athletic, of men. The South-Sea Islanders, who live almost exclusively on fruits and vegetables, are said to be altogether superior to English sailors, in strength and agility. An intelligent gentleman, who spent many months in Siberia, testifies, that no exiles endure the climate better than those, who have all their lives been accustomed to a vegetable diet. The stoutest and largest tribes in Africa, live solely on vegetable diet, and the bright, intelligent, and active Arabs, live entirely on milk and vegetables. The popular notion is, that animal food is more nourishing than vegetable; but on this point, scientific men hold different opinions. Experiments, repeatedly made by some chemists, seem to prove the contrary. Tables have been prepared, showing the amount of nutriment in each kind of food, by which it would appear, that, while beef contains thirty-five per cent. of nutritious matter, wheat-bread and rice contain from eighty to ninety-five per cent. The supposed mistake is attributed to the fact, that, on account of the stimulating nature of animal food, it digests easier and more quickly than vegetables. Many physicians, however, among them, Dr. Combe,[O] are of opinion, that animal food "contains a greater quantity of nutriment in a given bulk, than either herbaceous or farinaceous food." In some diseases, too, meat is better for the stomach than vegetables. The largest proportion of those, who have been remarkable for having lived to the greatest age, were persons, whose diet was almost exclusively vegetables; and it is a well-known fact, that the pulse of a hardy and robust man, who lives on simple vegetable diet, is from ten to twenty beats less in a minute, than that of men who live on a mixed diet. In regard to the intellect, Dr. Franklin asserted, from experience, that an exclusively vegetable diet "promotes clearness of ideas and quickness of perception; and is to be preferred, by all who labor with the mind." The mightiest efforts of Sir Isaac Newton, were performed, while nourished only by bread and water. Many other men, distinguished by intellectual vigor, give similar testimony. These facts show that animal food is not needful, to secure the perfect developement of mind or body.[P] The result of the treatment of the inmates of the Orphan Asylum, at Albany, is one, upon which all, who have the care of young children, should deeply ponder. During the first six years of the existence of this Institution, its average number of children was eighty. For the first three years, their diet was meat once a day, fine bread, rice, Indian puddings, vegetables, fruit, and milk. Considerable attention was given to clothing, fresh air, and exercise; and they were bathed once in three weeks. During these three years, from four to six children, and sometimes more, were continually on the sick-list; one or two assistant nurses were necessary; a physician was called, two or three times a week; and, in this time, there were between thirty and forty deaths. At the end of this period, the management was changed, in these respects:--daily ablutions of the whole body were practised; bread of unbolted flour was substituted for that of fine wheat; and all animal food was banished. More attention also was paid to clothing, bedding, fresh air, and exercise. The result was, that the nursery was vacated; the nurse and physician were no longer needed; and, for two years, not a single case of sickness or death occurred. The third year, also, there were no deaths, except those of two idiots and one other child, all of whom were new inmates, who had not been subjected to this treatment. The teachers of the children also testified, that there was a manifest increase of intellectual vigor and activity, while there was much less irritability of temper. Let parents, nurses, and teachers, reflect on the above statement, and bear in mind, that stupidity of intellect, and irritability of temper, as well as ill health, are often caused by the mismanagement of the nursery, in regard to the physical training of children. There is probably no practice, more deleterious, than that of allowing children to eat at short intervals, through the day. As the stomach is thus kept constantly at work, with no time for repose, its functions are deranged, and a weak or disordered stomach is the frequent result. Children should be required to keep cakes, nuts, and other good things which they may have to eat, till just before a meal, and then they will form a part of their regular supply. This is better, than to wait till after their hunger is satisfied by food, when they will eat their niceties merely to gratify the palate, and thus overload the stomach. In regard to the intellectual training of young children, some modification in the common practice is necessary, with reference to their physical wellbeing. More care is needful, in providing _well-ventilated_ schoolrooms, and in securing more time for sports in the open air, during school hours. It is very important, to most mothers, that their young children should be removed from their care, during the six school hours; and it is very useful, to quite young children, to be subjected to the discipline of a school, and to intercourse with other children of their own age. And, with a suitable teacher, it is no matter how early children are sent to school, provided their health is not endangered, by impure air, too much confinement, and too great mental stimulus. In regard to the formation of the moral character, it has been too much the case, that the discipline of the nursery has consisted of disconnected efforts to make children either do, or refrain from doing, certain particular acts. Do this, and be rewarded; do that, and be punished; is the ordinary routine of family government. But children can be very early taught, that their happiness, both now and hereafter, depends on the formation of _habits of submission, self-denial_, and _benevolence_. And all the discipline of the nursery can be conducted by the parents, not only with this general aim in their own minds, but also with the same object daily set before the minds of the children. Whenever their wishes are crossed, or their wills subdued, they can be taught, that all this is done, not merely to please the parent, or to secure some good to themselves or to others; but as a part of that merciful training, which is designed to form such a character, and such habits, that they can hereafter find their chief happiness in giving up their will to God, and in living to do good to others, instead of living merely to please themselves. It can be pointed out to them, that they must always submit their will to the will of God, or else be continually miserable. It can be shown, how in the nursery, and in the school, and through all future days, a child must practise the giving up of his will and wishes, when they interfere with the rights and comfort of others; and how important it is, early to learn to do this, so that it will, by habit, become easy and agreeable. It can be shown, how children, who are indulged in all their wishes, and who are never accustomed to any self-denial, always find it hard to refrain from what injures themselves and others. It can be shown, also, how important it is, for every person, to form such habits of benevolence, towards others, that self-denial, in doing good, will become easy. Parents have learned, by experience, that children can be constrained, by authority and penalties, to exercise self-denial, for _their own_ good, till a habit is formed, which makes the duty comparatively easy. For example, well-trained children can be accustomed to deny themselves tempting articles of food, which are injurious, until the practice ceases to be painful and difficult. Whereas, an indulged child would be thrown into fits of anger or discontent, when its wishes were crossed, by restraints of this kind. But it has not been so readily discerned, that the same method is needful, in order to form a habit of self-denial, in doing good to others. It has been supposed, that, while children must be forced, by _authority_, to be self-denying and prudent, in regard to their own happiness, it may properly be left to their own discretion, whether they will practise any self-denial in doing good to others. But the more difficult a duty is, the greater is the need of parental authority, in forming a habit, which will make that duty easy. In order to secure this, some parents turn their earliest efforts to this object. They require the young child always to offer to others a part of every thing which it receives; always to comply with all reasonable requests of others for service; and often to practise little acts of self-denial, in order to secure some enjoyment for others. If one child receives a present of some nicety, he is required to share it with all his brothers and sisters. If one asks his brother to help him in some sport, and is met with a denial, the parent requires the unwilling child to act benevolently, and give up some of his time to increase his brother's enjoyment. Of course, in such an effort as this, discretion must be used, as to the frequency and extent of the exercise of authority, to induce a habit of benevolence. But, where parents deliberately aim at such an object, and wisely conduct their instructions and discipline to secure it, very much will be accomplished. Religious influence should be brought to bear directly upon this point. In the very beginning of religious instruction, Jesus Christ should be presented to the child, as that great and good Being, who came into this world to teach children how to be happy, both here and hereafter. He, who made it His meat and drink to do the will of His Heavenly Father; who, in the humblest station, and most destitute condition, denied Himself, daily, and went about doing good; should constantly be presented as the object of their imitation. And as nothing so strongly influences the minds of children, as the sympathy and example of a _present_ friend, all those, who believe Him to be an _ever-present Saviour_, should avail themselves of this powerful aid. Under such training, Jesus Christ should be constantly presented to them, as their ever-watchful, tender, and sympathizing friend. If the abstract idea of an unembodied Spirit with the majestic attributes of Deity, be difficult for the mind of infancy to grasp, the simple, the gentle, the lovely, character of Christ, is exactly adapted to the wants and comprehension of a child. In this view, how touching is the language of the Saviour, to His misjudging disciples, "Suffer _the little children_ to come unto me!" In regard to forming habits of obedience, there have been two extremes, both of which need to be shunned. One is, a stern and unsympathizing maintenance of parental authority, demanding perfect and constant obedience, without any attempt to convince a child of the propriety and benevolence of the requisitions, and without any manifestation of sympathy and tenderness for the pain and difficulties which are to be met. Under such discipline, children grow up to fear their parents, rather than to love and trust them; while some of the most valuable principles of character, are chilled, or forever blasted. In shunning this danger, other parents pass to the opposite extreme. They put themselves too much on the footing of equals with their children, as if little were due to superiority of relation, age, and experience. Nothing is exacted, without the implied concession that the child is to be a judge of the propriety of the requisition; and reason and persuasion are employed, where simple command and obedience would be far better. This system produces a most pernicious influence. Children soon perceive the position, thus allowed them, and take every advantage of it. They soon learn to dispute parental requirements, acquire habits of forwardness and conceit, assume disrespectful manners and address, maintain their views with pertinacity, and yield to authority with ill-humor and resentment, as if their rights were infringed. The medium course, is, for the parent to take the attitude of a superior, in age, knowledge, and relation, who has a perfect right to control every action of the child, and that, too, without giving any reason for the requisitions. "Obey, _because your parent commands_," is always a proper and sufficient reason. But care should be taken, to convince the child that the parent is conducting a course of discipline, designed to make him happy; and in forming habits of implicit obedience, self-denial, and benevolence, the child should have the reasons for most requisitions kindly stated; never, however, on the demand of it, from the child, as a right, but as an act of kindness from the parent. It is impossible to govern children properly, especially those of strong and sensitive feelings, without a constant effort to appreciate the value which they attach to their enjoyments and pursuits. A lady, of great strength of mind and sensibility, once told the writer, that one of the most acute periods of suffering, in her whole life, was occasioned by the burning up of some milkweed-silk, by her mother. The child had found, for the first time, some of this shining and beautiful substance; was filled with delight at her discovery; was arranging it in parcels; planning its future uses, and her pleasure in showing it to her companions,--when her mother, finding it strewed over the carpet, hastily swept it into the fire, and that, too, with so indifferent an air, that the child fled away, almost distracted with grief and disappointment. The mother little realized the pain she had inflicted, but the child felt the unkindness, so severely, that for several days her mother was an object almost of aversion. While, therefore, the parent needs to carry on a steady course, which will oblige the child always to give up its will, whenever its own good, or the greater claims of others, require it, this should be constantly connected with the expression of a tender sympathy, for the trials and disappointments thus inflicted. Those, who will join with children, and help them along in their sports, will learn, by this mode, to understand the feelings and interests of childhood; while, at the same time, they secure a degree of confidence and affection, which cannot be gained so easily, in any other way. And it is to be regretted, that parents so often relinquish this most powerful mode of influence, to domestics and playmates, who often use it in the most pernicious manner. In joining in such sports, older persons should never relinquish the attitude of superiors, or allow disrespectful manners or address. And respectful deportment is never more cheerfully accorded, than in seasons, when young hearts are pleased, and made grateful, by having their tastes and enjoyments so efficiently promoted. Next to the want of all government, the two most fruitful sources of evil to children, are, _unsteadiness_ in government, and _over-government_. Most of the cases, in which the children of sensible and conscientious parents turn out badly, result from one or the other of these causes. In cases of unsteady government, either one parent is very strict, severe, and unbending, and the other excessively indulgent, or else the parents are sometimes very strict and decided, and at other times allow disobedience to go unpunished. In such cases, children, never knowing exactly when they can escape with impunity, are constantly tempted to make the trial. The bad effects of this, can be better appreciated, by reference to one important principle of the mind. It is found to be universally true, that, when any object of desire is put entirely beyond the reach of hope or expectation, the mind very soon ceases to long for it, and turns to other objects of pursuit. But, so long as the mind is hoping for some good, and making efforts to obtain it, any opposition excites irritable feelings. Let the object be put entirely beyond all hope, and this irritation soon ceases. In consequence of this principle, those children, who are under the care of persons of steady and decided government, know, that whenever a thing is forbidden or denied, it is out of the reach of hope; the desire, therefore, soon ceases, and they turn to other objects. But the children of undecided, or of over-indulgent parents, never enjoy this preserving aid. When a thing is denied, they never know but either coaxing may win it, or disobedience secure it without any penalty, and so they are kept in that state of hope and anxiety, which produces irritation, and tempts to insubordination. The children of very indulgent parents, and of those who are undecided and unsteady in government, are very apt to become fretful, irritable, and fractious. Another class of persons, in shunning this evil, go to the other extreme, and are very strict and pertinacious, in regard to every requisition. With them, fault-finding and penalties abound, until the children are either hardened into indifference of feeling, and obtuseness of conscience, or else become excessively irritable, or misanthropic. It demands great wisdom, patience, and self-control, to escape these two extremes. In aiming at this, there are parents, who have found the following maxims of very great value. First, Avoid, as much as possible, the multiplication of rules and absolute commands. Instead of this, take the attitude of advisers. "My child, this is improper, I wish you would remember not to do it." This mode of address answers for all the little acts of heedlessness, awkwardness, or ill-manners, so frequently occurring, with children. There are cases, when direct and distinct commands are needful; and, in such cases, a penalty for disobedience should be as steady and sure as the laws of Nature. Where such steadiness, and certainty of penalty, attend disobedience, children no more think of disobeying, than they do of putting their fingers in a burning candle. The next maxim, is, Govern by rewards, more than by penalties. Such faults as wilful disobedience, lying, dishonesty, and indecent or profane language, should be punished with severe penalties, after a child has been fully instructed in the evil of such practices. But all the constantly-recurring faults of the nursery, such as ill-humor, quarrelling, carelessness, and ill-manners, may, in a great many cases, be regulated by gentle and kind remonstrances, and by the offer of some reward for persevering efforts to form a good habit. It is very injurious and degrading to any mind, to be kept under the constant fear of penalties. _Love_ and _hope_ are the principles that should be mainly relied on, in forming the habits of childhood. Another maxim, and perhaps the most difficult, is, Do not govern by the aid of severe and angry tones. A single example will be given to illustrate this maxim. A child is disposed to talk and amuse itself, at table. The mother requests it to be silent, except when needing to ask for food, or when spoken to by its older friends. It constantly forgets. The mother, instead of rebuking, in an impatient tone, says, "My child, you must remember not to talk. I will remind you of it four times more, and after that, whenever you forget, you must leave the table, and wait till we are done." If the mother is steady in her government, it is not probable that she will have to apply this slight penalty more than once or twice. This method is far more effectual, than the use of sharp and severe tones, to secure attention and recollection, and often answers the purpose, as well as offering some reward. The writer has been in some families, where the most efficient and steady government has been sustained, without the use of a cross or angry tone; and in others, where a far less efficient discipline was kept up, by frequent severe rebukes and angry remonstrances. In the first case, the children followed the example set them, and seldom used severe tones to each other; in the latter, the method employed by the parents, was imitated by the children; and cross words and angry tones resounded from morning till night, in every portion of the household. Another important maxim, is, Try to keep children in a happy state of mind. Every one knows, by experience, that it is easier to do right, and submit to rule, when cheerful and happy, than when irritated. This is peculiarly true of children; and a wise mother, when she finds her child fretful and impatient, and thus constantly doing wrong, will often remedy the whole difficulty, by telling some amusing story, or by getting the child engaged in some amusing sport. This strongly shows the importance of learning to govern children without the employment of angry tones, which always produce irritation. Children of active, heedless temperament, or those who are odd, awkward, or unsuitable, in their remarks and deportment, are often essentially injured, by a want of patience and self-control in those who govern them. Such children, often possess a morbid sensibility, which they strive to conceal, or a desire of love and approbation, which preys like a famine on the soul. And yet, they become objects of ridicule and rebuke, to almost every member of the family, until their sensibilities are tortured into obtuseness or misanthropy. Such children, above all others, need tenderness and sympathy. A thousand instances of mistake or forgetfulness should be passed over, in silence, while opportunities for commendation and encouragement should be diligently sought. In regard to the formation of habits of self-denial, in childhood, it is astonishing to see how parents, who are very sensible, often seem to regard this matter. Instead of inuring their children to this duty, in early life, so that by habit it may be made easy in after-days, they seem to be studiously seeking to cut them off, from every chance to secure such a preparation. Every wish of the child is studiously gratified; and, where a necessity exists, of crossing its wishes, some compensating pleasure is offered, in return. Such parents, often maintain that nothing shall be put on their table, which their children may not join them in eating. But where, so easily and surely as at the daily meal, can that habit of self-denial be formed, which is so needful in governing the appetites, and which children must acquire, or be ruined? The food which is proper for grown persons, is often unsuitable for children; and this is a sufficient reason for accustoming them to see others partake of delicacies, which they must not share. Requiring children to wait till others are helped, and to refrain from conversation at table, except when addressed by their elders, is another mode of forming habits of self-denial and self-control. Requiring them to help others, first, and to offer the best to others, has a similar influence. In forming the moral habits of children, it is wise to take into account the peculiar temptations to which they are to be exposed. The people of this Nation are eminently a trafficking people; and the present standard of honesty, as to trade and debts, is very low, and every year seems sinking still lower. It is, therefore, pre-eminently important, that children should be trained to strict _honesty_, both in word and deed. It is not merely teaching children to avoid absolute lying, which is needed. _All kinds of deceit_ should be guarded against; and all kinds of little dishonest practices be strenuously opposed. A child should be brought up with the determined principle, never to _run in debt_, but to be content to live in an humbler way, in order to secure that true independence, which should be the noblest distinction of an American citizen. There is no more important duty, devolving upon a mother, than the cultivation of habits of modesty and propriety in young children. All indecorous words or deportment, should be carefully restrained; and delicacy and reserve studiously cherished. It is a common notion, that it is important to secure these virtues to one sex, more than to the other; and, by a strange inconsistency, the sex most exposed to danger, is the one selected as least needing care. But a wise mother will be especially careful, that her sons are trained to modesty and purity of mind. But few mothers are sufficiently aware of the dreadful penalties which often result from indulged impurity of thought. If children, in _future_ life, can be preserved from licentious associates, it is supposed that their safety is secured. But the records of our insane retreats, and the pages of medical writers, teach, that even in solitude, and without being aware of the sin or the danger, children may inflict evils on themselves, which not unfrequently terminate in disease, delirium, and death. Every mother and every teacher, therefore, carefully avoiding all explanation of the mystery, should teach the young, that the indulgence of impure thoughts and actions, is visited by the most awful and terrific penalties. Disclosing the details of vice, in order to awaken dread of its penalties, is a most dangerous experiment, and often leads to the very evils feared. The attempts made, in late years, to guard children from future dangers, by circulating papers, and books of warning and information, have led to such frightful results, that it is hoped the experiment will never again be pursued. The safest course, is, to cultivate habits of modesty and delicacy, and to teach, that all impure thoughts, words, and actions, are forbidden by God, and are often visited by the most dreadful punishment. At the same time, it is important for mothers to protect the young mind from false notions of delicacy. It should be shown, that whatever is necessary, to save from suffering or danger, must be met, without shame or aversion; and that all, which God has instituted, is wise, and right, and pure. It is in reference to these dangers, that mothers and teachers should carefully guard the young from those highly-wrought fictions, which lead the imagination astray; and especially from that class of licentious works, made interesting by genius and taste, which have flooded this Country, and which are often found on the parlor table, even of moral and Christian people. Of this class, the writings of Bulwer stand conspicuous. The only difference, between some of his works and the obscene prints, for vending which men suffer the penalties of the law, is, that the last are so gross, as to revolt the taste and startle the mind to resistance, while Bulwer presents the same ideas, so clothed in the fascinations of taste and genius, as most insidiously to seduce the unwary. It seems to be the chief aim of this licentious writer, to make thieves, murderers, and adulterers, appear beautiful, refined, and interesting. It is time that all virtuous persons in the community should rise in indignation, not only against the writers, but the venders of such poison. FOOTNOTES: [O] See his 'Physiology of Digestion considered with relation to the Principles of Dietetics,' issued by the Publishers of this work. [P] The writer is not an advocate for _total_ abstinence from animal food. She coincides with the best authorities, in thinking that adults eat too much; that children, while growing, should eat very little, and quite young children, none at all. CHAPTER XXI. ON THE CARE OF THE SICK. Every woman who has the care of young children, or of a large family, is frequently called upon, to advise what shall be done, for some one who is indisposed; and often, in circumstances where she must trust solely to her own judgement. In such cases, some err, by neglecting to do any thing at all, till the patient is quite sick; but a still greater number err, from excessive and injurious dosing. The two great causes of the ordinary slight attacks of illness, in a family, are, sudden chills, which close the pores of the skin, and thus affect the throat, lungs, or bowels; and the excessive or improper use of food. In most cases, of illness from the first cause, bathing the feet, and some aperient drink to induce perspiration, are suitable remedies. A slight cathartic, also, is often serviceable. In case of illness from improper food, or excess in eating, _fasting_, for one or two meals, to give the system time and chance to relieve itself, is the safest remedy. Sometimes, a gentle cathartic may be needful; but it is best first to try fasting. The following extract from a discourse of Dr. Burne, before the London Medical Society, contains important information. "In civilized life, the causes, which are most generally and continually operating in the production of diseases, are, affections of the mind, improper diet, and retention of the intestinal excretions. The undue retention of excrementitious matter, allows of the absorption of its more liquid parts, which is a cause of great impurity to the blood, and the excretions, thus rendered hard and knotty, act more or less as extraneous substances, and, by their irritation, produce a determination of blood to the intestines and to the neighboring viscera, which ultimately ends in inflammation. It also has a great effect on the whole system; causes a determination of blood to the head, which oppresses the brain and dejects the mind; deranges the functions of the stomach; causes flatulency; and produces a general state of discomfort." Dr. Combe remarks, on this subject, "In the natural and healthy state, under a proper system of diet, and with sufficient exercise, the bowels are relieved regularly, once every day." _Habit_ "is powerful in modifying the result, and in sustaining healthy action when once fairly established. Hence the obvious advantage of observing as much regularity, in relieving the system, as in taking our meals." It is often the case that soliciting Nature at a regular period, once a day, will remedy constipation, without medicine, and induce a regular and healthy state of the bowels. "When, however, as most frequently happens, the constipation arises from the absence of all assistance from the abdominal and respiratory muscles, the first step to be taken, is, again to solicit their aid; first, by removing all impediments to free respiration, such as stays, waistbands and belts; secondly, by resorting to such active exercises, as shall call the muscles into full and regular action; and, lastly, by proportioning the quantity of food to the wants of the system, and the condition of the digestive organs. If we employ these means, systematically and perseveringly, we shall rarely fail in at last restoring the healthy action of the bowels, with little aid from medicine. But if we neglect these modes, we may go on, for years, adding pill to pill, and dose to dose, without ever attaining the end at which we aim." There is no point, in which a woman needs more knowledge and discretion, than in administering remedies for what seem slight attacks, which are not supposed to require the attention of a physician. It is little realized, that purgative drugs are unnatural modes of stimulating the internal organs, tending to exhaust them of their secretions, and to debilitate and disturb the animal economy. For this reason, they should be used as little as possible; and fasting, and perspiration, and the other methods pointed out, should always be first resorted to. When medicine must be given, it should be borne in mind, that there are various classes of purgatives, which produce very diverse effects. Some, like salts, operate to thin the blood, and reduce the system; others are stimulating; and others have a peculiar operation on certain organs. Of course, great discrimination and knowledge is needed, in order to select the kind, which is suitable to the particular disease, or to the particular constitution of the invalid. This shows the folly of using the many kinds of pills, and other quack medicines, where no knowledge can be had of their composition. Pills which are good for one kind of disease, might operate as poison in another state of the system. It is wise to keep always on hand some simple cathartic, for family use, in slight attacks; and always to resort to medical advice, whenever powerful remedies seem to be demanded.[Q] It is very common, in cases of colds which affect the lungs or throat, to continue to try one dose after another, for relief. It will be well to bear in mind, at such times, that all which goes into the stomach, must be first absorbed into the blood, before it can reach the diseased part; and that there is some danger of injuring the stomach, or other parts of the system, by such a variety of doses, many of which, it is probable, will be directly contradictory in their nature, and thus neutralize any supposed benefit they might separately impart. It is very unwise, to tempt the appetite of a person who is indisposed. The cessation of appetite is the warning of Nature, that the system is in such a state, that food cannot be digested. The following suggestions may be found useful, in regard to nursing the sick. As nothing contributes more to the restoration of health, than pure air, it should be a primary object, to keep a sick-room well ventilated. At least twice in the twenty-four hours, the patient should be well covered, and fresh air freely admitted from out of doors. After this, if need be, the room should be restored to a proper temperature, by the aid of a fire. Bedding and clothing should also be well aired, and frequently changed; as the exhalations from the body, in sickness, are peculiarly deleterious. Frequent ablutions, of the whole body, if possible, are very useful; and for these, warm water may be employed. The following, are useful directions for dressing a blister. Spread thinly, on a linen cloth, an ointment, composed of one third of beeswax to two thirds of tallow; lay this upon a linen cloth, folded many times. With a sharp pair of scissors, make an aperture in the lower part of the bag of water, with a little hole, above, to give it vent. Break the raised skin as little as possible. Lay on the cloth, spread as directed. The blister, at first, should be dressed as often as three times in a day, and the dressing renewed each time. A sick-room should always be kept very neat, and in perfect order; and all haste, noise, and bustle, should be avoided. In order to secure neatness, order, and quiet, in case of long illness, the following arrangements should be made. Keep a large box for fuel, which will need to be filled only twice in twenty-four hours. Provide, also, and keep in the room, or an adjacent closet, a small teakettle, a saucepan, a pail of water, for drinks and ablutions, a pitcher, a covered porringer, two pint bowls, two tumblers, two cups and saucers, two wine glasses, two large and two small spoons; also, a dish in which to wash these articles; a good supply of towels, and a broom. Keep a slop-bucket, near by, to receive the wash of the room. Procuring all these articles at once, will save much noise and confusion. Whenever medicine or food is given, spread a clean towel over the person or bedclothing, and get a clean handkerchief, as nothing is more annoying to a weak stomach, than the stickiness and soiling produced by medicine and food. Keep the fireplace neat, and always wash all articles, and put them in order, as soon as they are out of use. A sick person has nothing to do, but look about the room; and when every thing is neat and in order, a feeling of comfort is induced, while disorder, filth, and neglect, are constant objects of annoyance, which, if not complained of, are yet felt. Always prepare food for the sick, in the neatest and most careful manner. It is in sickness, that the senses of smell and taste are most susceptible of annoyance; and often, little mistakes or negligences, in preparing food, will take away all appetite. Food for the sick, should be cooked on coals, that no smoke may have access to it; and great care must be taken, to prevent any adherence to the bottom, as this always gives a disagreeable taste. Keeping clean handkerchiefs and towels at hand, cooling the pillows, sponging the hands with water, swabbing the mouth with a clean linen rag, on the end of a stick, are modes of increasing the comfort of the sick. Always throw a shawl over a sick person, when raised up. Be careful to understand a physician's directions, and _to obey them implicitly_. If it be supposed that any other person knows better about the case, than the physician, dismiss the physician, and employ that person in his stead. In nursing the sick, always speak gently and cheeringly; and, while you express sympathy for their pain and trials, stimulate them to bear all with fortitude, and with resignation to Him who has appointed the trial. Offer to read the Bible, or other devotional books, whenever it is suitable, and will not be deemed obtrusive. It is always best to consult the physician, as to where medicines shall be purchased, and to show the articles to him before using them, as great impositions are practised in selling old, useless, and adulterated drugs. Always put labels on vials of medicine, and keep them out of the reach of children. Be careful to label all powders, and particularly all _white powders_; as many poisonous medicines, in this form, are easily mistaken for others which are harmless. FOOTNOTE: [Q] The following electuary, by a distinguished physician, is used by many friends of the writer, as a standing resort, in cases of constipation, or where a gentle cathartic is needed. One recommendation of it, is, that children always love it, and eat the pills as "good plums." Two ounces of powdered Senna; one ounce of Cream of Tartar; one ounce of Sulphur; mixed with sufficient Confection of Senna, to form an electuary. Make this into pills, of the size of peas, and give a young child two or three, as the case may be. Taking three pills, every night, will generally relieve constipation in an adult. CHAPTER XXII. ON ACCIDENTS AND ANTIDOTES. When serious accidents occur, medical aid should be immediately procured. Till that can be done, the following directions may be useful. When a child has any thing in its throat, first try, with the finger, to get the article up. If this cannot be done, push it down into the stomach, with a smooth elastic stick. If the article be a pin, sharp bone, glass, or other cutting substance, give an emetic which will immediately operate. In the case of a common cut, bind the lips of the wound together, with a rag, and put nothing else on. If the cut be large, and so situated that rags will not bind it together, use sticking plaster, cut in strips and laid obliquely across the cut. Sometimes it is needful to take a stitch, with a needle and thread, on each lip of the wound, and draw the two sides together. If an artery be cut, it must be immediately tied up, or the person will bleed to death. The blood from an artery is of a bright red color, and spirts out, in regular jets, at each beat of the heart. Take up the bleeding end of the artery, and hold it, or tie it up, till a surgeon comes. When the artery cannot be found, and in all cases of bad cuts on any of the limbs, apply compression; when it can be done, tie a very tight bandage above the wound, if it be below the heart, and _below_ if the wound be above the heart. Put a stick into the band, and twist it as tight as can be borne, till surgical aid be obtained. Bathe bad bruises in hot water, or hot spirits, or a decoction of bitter herbs. _Entire rest_, is the remedy for sprains. Bathing in warm water, or warm whiskey is very useful. A sprained leg should be kept in a horizontal position, on a bed or sofa. When a leg is broken, tie it to the other leg, to keep it still; and, if possible, get a surgeon, before the limb swells. Bind a broken arm to a piece of shingle, and keep it still, till it is set. In case of a blow on the head, or a fall, causing insensibility, use a mustard paste on the back of the neck and pit of the stomach, and rub the body with spirits. After the circulation is restored, bleeding is often necessary; but it is very dangerous to attempt it before. In cases of bad burns, where the skin is taken off, the great aim should be, _to keep the injured part from the air_. For this purpose, sprinkle on flour, or apply a liniment, made of linseed oil and lime-water, in equal quantities. Sweet-oil, on cotton, is good, and with laudanum, alleviates pain: but many skins cannot bear the application of raw cotton, which is sometimes very good. When a dressing is put on, do not remove it, as it will be sure to protract the cure, by admitting the air. In case of drowning, lay the person in a warm bed, or on blankets, on the right side, with the head raised, and a little inclined forward. Clear the mouth with the fingers, and cautiously apply hartshorn to the nose. Raise the heat of the body, by bottles of warm water, applied to the pit of the stomach, armpits, groins, and soles of the feet. Apply friction to the whole body, with warm hands and cloths dipped in warm spirits of camphor. Endeavor to produce the natural action of the lungs, by introducing the nose of a bellows into one nostril and closing the other, at the same time pressing on the throat, to close the gullet. When the lungs are thus inflated, press gently on the breast and belly, and continue the process, for a long time. Cases have been known, where efforts have been protracted eight or ten hours, without effect, and then have proved successful. Rolling the body on a barrel, suspending it by the heels, giving injections of tobacco, and many other practices, which have been common, are highly injurious. After signs of life appear, give small quantities of wine, or spirits and water. In cases of poisoning, from _corrosive sublimate_, beat up the whites of twelve eggs, mix them in two quarts of water, and give a tumbler full every three minutes, till vomiting is produced. This is the surest remedy. When this is not at hand, fill the stomach, in like manner, with any mucilaginous substance, such as gum and water, flaxseed, or slippery-elm-bark tea. Flour and water, or sugar and water, in great quantities, are next best; and if none of these be at hand, give copious draughts of water alone. In case of poisoning from _arsenic_, _cobalt_, or any such mineral, administer, as soon as possible, large quantities of lime-water and sugared-water, of warm, or even of cold water, or of flaxseed tea, or some other mucilaginous drink, to distend the stomach and produce immediate vomiting, and thereby eject the poison. If opium, or any of its preparations, has been taken, in dangerous quantities, induce vomiting, without a moment's unnecessary delay, by giving, immediately, in _a small quantity_ of water, ten grains of ipecac, and ten grains of sulphate of zinc, (white vitriol, which is the most prompt emetic known,) and repeat the dose every fifteen minutes, till the stomach is entirely emptied. Where white vitriol is not at hand, substitute three or four grains of blue vitriol, (sulphate of copper.) When the stomach is emptied, but not before, give, every ten minutes, alternately, a cup of acid drink, and a cup of very strong coffee, made by pouring a pint of boiling water on a quarter of a pound of ground burnt coffee, and letting it stand ten minutes, and then straining it. Continue these drinks, till the danger is over. Dash cold water on the head, apply friction to the body, and keep the person in constant motion, to prevent sleep. If any kind of acid be taken, in poisonous quantities, give strong pearlash-water. If ley, or pearlash, or any alkali be taken, give sweet-oil; or, if this be wanting, lamp-oil; or, if neither be at hand, give vinegar, freely. In case of stupefaction, from the fumes of charcoal, or from entering a well, limekiln, or coal mine, expose the person to cold air, lying on his back, dash cold water on the head and breast, and rub the body with spirits of camphor, vinegar, or Cologne water. Apply mustard paste to the pit of the stomach, and use friction on the hands, feet, and whole length of the back bone. Give some acid drink, and, when the person revives, place him in a warm bed, in fresh air. Be prompt and persevering. In case of bleeding at the lungs, or stomach, or throat, give a teaspoonful of dry salt, and repeat it often. For bleeding at the nose, pour cold water on the back of the neck, keeping the head elevated. If a person be struck with lightning, throw pailfuls of cold water on the head and body, and apply mustard poultices on the stomach, with friction of the whole body, and inflation of the lungs. When no other emetic can be found, pounded mustard seed, taken a teaspoonful at a time, will answer. The ground mustard is not so effectual, but will do. In case of fire, wrap a woollen blanket about you, to protect from the fire. If the staircases are on fire, tie the corners of the sheets together, very firmly, fasten one end to the bedstead, draw it to the window, and let yourself down. Never read in bed, lest you fall asleep, and the bed be set on fire. If your clothes get on fire, never run, but lie down, and roll about till you can reach a bed or carpet to wrap yourself in, and thus put out the fire. Keep young children in woollen dresses, to save them from the risk of fire. In thunderstorms, shut the doors and windows. The safest part of a room, is its centre; and where there is a featherbed in the apartment, that will be found the most secure resting-place. A lightning rod, if it be well pointed, and run deep into the earth, is a certain protection to a circle around it, whose diameter equals the height of the rod above the highest chimney. But it protects _no further_ than this extent. CHAPTER XXIII. ON DOMESTIC AMUSEMENTS AND SOCIAL DUTIES. Whenever the laws of body and mind are properly understood, it will be allowed, that every person needs some kind of recreation; and that, by seeking it, the body is strengthened, the mind is invigorated, and all our duties are more cheerfully and successfully performed. Children, whose bodies are rapidly growing, and whose nervous system is tender and excitable, need much more amusement, than persons of mature age. Persons, also, who are oppressed with great responsibilities and duties, or who are taxed by great intellectual or moral excitement, need recreations which secure physical exercise, and draw off the mind from absorbing interests. Unfortunately, such persons are those who least resort to amusements, while the idle, gay, and thoughtless, seek those which are needless, and for which useful occupation would be a most beneficial substitute. As the only legitimate object of amusements, is, to prepare mind and body for the proper discharge of duty, any protracting of such as interfere with regular employments, or induce excessive fatigue, or weary the mind, or invade the proper hours for repose, must be sinful. In deciding what should be selected, and what avoided, the following rules are binding. In the first place, no amusements, which inflict needless pain, should ever be allowed. All tricks which cause fright, or vexation, and all sports, which involve suffering to animals, should be utterly forbidden. Hunting and fishing, for mere sport, can never be justified. If a man can convince his children, that he follows these pursuits to gain food or health, and not for amusement, his example may not be very injurious. But, when children see grown persons kill and frighten animals, for sport, habits of cruelty, rather than feelings of tenderness and benevolence, are induced. In the next place, we should seek no recreations, which endanger life, or interfere with important duties. As the only legitimate object of amusements, is to promote health, and prepare for more serious duties, selecting those which have a directly opposite tendency, cannot be justified. Of course, if a person feel that the previous day's diversions have shortened the hours of needful repose, or induced a lassitude of mind or body, instead of invigorating them, it is certain that an evil has been done, which should never be repeated. A third rule, is, to avoid those amusements, which experience has shown to be so exciting, and connected with so many temptations, as to be pernicious in tendency, both to the individual and to the community. It is on this ground, that horse-racing and circus-riding are excluded. Not because there is any thing positively wrong, in having men and horses run, and perform feats of agility, or in persons looking on for the diversion; but because experience has shown so many evils connected with these recreations, that they should be relinquished. So with theatres. The enacting of characters, and the amusement thus afforded, in itself may be harmless; and possibly, in certain cases, might be useful: but experience has shown so many evils to result from this source, that it is deemed wrong to patronize it. So, also, with those exciting games of chance, which are employed in gambling. Under the same head, comes _dancing_, in the estimation of the great majority of the religious world. Still, there are many intelligent, excellent, and conscientious persons, who hold a contrary opinion. Such maintain, that it is an innocent and healthful amusement, tending to promote ease of manners, cheerfulness, social affection, and health of mind and body; that evils are involved only in its excess; that, like food, study, or religious excitement, it is only wrong, when not properly regulated; and that, if serious and intelligent people would strive to regulate, rather than banish, this amusement, much more good would be secured. On the other side, it is objected, not that dancing is a sin, in itself considered, for it was once a part of sacred worship; not that it would be objectionable, if it were properly regulated; not that it does not tend, when used in a proper manner, to health of body and mind, to grace of manners, and to social enjoyment: all these things are conceded. But it is objected to, on the same ground as horse-racing, card-playing, and theatrical entertainments; that we are to look at amusements as they _are_, and not as they _might_ be. Horseraces might be so managed, as not to involve cruelty, gambling, drunkenness, and every other vice. And so might theatres and cards. And if serious and intelligent persons, undertook to patronize these, in order to regulate them, perhaps they would be somewhat raised from the depths, to which they are now sunk. But such persons, know, that, with the weak sense of moral obligation existing in the mass of society, and the imperfect ideas mankind have of the proper use of amusements, and the little self-control, which men, or women, or children, practise, these will not, in fact, be thus-regulated. And they believe dancing to be liable to the same objections. As this recreation is actually conducted, it does not tend to produce health of body or mind, but directly the contrary. If young and old went out to dance together, in the open air, as the French peasants do, it would be a very different sort of amusement, from that which is witnessed, in a room, furnished with many lights, and filled with guests, both expending the healthful part of the atmosphere, where the young collect, in their tightest dresses, to protract, for several hours, a kind of physical exertion, which is not habitual to them. During this process, the blood is made to circulate more swiftly than ordinary, in circumstances where it is less perfectly oxygenized than health requires; the pores of the skin are excited by heat and exercise; the stomach is loaded with indigestible articles, and the quiet, needful to digestion, withheld; the diversion is protracted beyond the usual hour for repose; and then, when the skin is made the most highly susceptible to damps and miasms, the company pass from a warm room to the cold night-air. It is probable, that no single amusement can be pointed out, combining so many injurious particulars, as this, which is so often defended as a healthful one. Even if parents, who train their children to dance, can keep them from public balls, (which is seldom the case,) dancing in private parlors is subject to nearly all the same mischievous influences. As to the claim of social benefits,--when a dancing-party occupies the parlors, and the music begins, most of the conversation ceases; while the young prepare themselves for future sickness, and the old look smilingly on. As to the claim for ease and grace of manners,--all that is gained, by this practice, can be better secured, by Calisthenics, which, in all its parts, embraces a much more perfect system, both of healthful exercise, graceful movement, and pleasing carriage. The writer was once inclined to the common opinion, that dancing was harmless, and might be properly regulated; and she allowed a fair trial to be made, under her auspices, by its advocates. The result was, a full conviction, that it secured no good effect, which could not be better gained another way; that it involved the most pernicious evils to health, character, and happiness; and that those parents were wise, who brought up their children with the full understanding that they were neither to learn nor to practise the art. In the fifteen years, during which she has had the care of young ladies, she has never known any case, where learning this art, and following the amusement, did not have a bad effect, either on the habits, the intellect, the feelings, or the health. Those young ladies, who are brought up with less exciting recreations, are uniformly likely to be the most contented and most useful, while those, who enter the path to which this diversion leads, acquire a relish and desire for high excitement, which make the more steady and quiet pursuits and enjoyments of home, comparatively tasteless. This, the writer believes to be generally the case, though not invariably so; for there are exceptions to all general rules. In reference to these exciting amusements, so liable to danger and excess, parents are bound to regard the principle, which is involved in the petition, "Lead us not into temptation." Would it not be inconsistent, to teach this prayer, to the lisping tongue of childhood, and then send it to the dancing-master, to acquire a love for a diversion, which leads to constant temptations that so few find strength to resist? It is encouraging, to those who take this view of the subject, to find how fast the most serious and intelligent portion of the community is coming to a similar result. Twenty-five years ago, dancing was universally practised by the young, as a matter of course, in every part of the Nation. Now, in those parts of the Country, where religion and intelligence are most extensively diffused, it is almost impossible to get up a ball, among the more refined classes of the community. The amusement is fast leaving this rank in society, to remain as a resource for those, whose grade of intelligence and refinement does not relish more elevated recreations. Still, as there is great diversity of opinion, among persons of equal worth and intelligence, a spirit of candor and courtesy should be practised, on both sides. The sneer at bigotry and narrowness of views, on one side, and the uncharitable implication of want of piety, or sense, on the other, are equally illbred and unchristian. Truth, on this subject, is best promoted, not by ill-natured crimination and rebuke, but by calm reason, generous candor, forbearance, and kindness. There is another species of amusement, which a large portion of the religious world have been accustomed to put under the same condemnation as the preceding. This is novel-reading. The confusion and difference of opinion on this subject, have arisen from a want of clear and definite distinctions. Now, as it is impossible to define what are novels and what are not, so as to include one class of fictitious writings and exclude every other, it is impossible to lay down any rule respecting them. The discussion, in fact, turns on the use of those works of imagination, which belong to the class of narratives. That this species of reading, is not only lawful, but necessary and useful, is settled by Divine examples, in the parables and allegories of Scripture. Of course, the question must be, what kind of fabulous writings must be avoided, and what allowed. In deciding this, no specific rules can be given; but it must be a matter to be regulated by the nature and circumstances of each case. No works of fiction, which tend to throw the allurements of taste and genius around vice and crime, should ever be tolerated; and all that tend to give false views of life and duty, should also be banished. Of those, which are written for mere amusement, presenting scenes and events that are interesting and exciting, and having no bad moral influence, much must depend on character and circumstances. Some minds are torpid and phlegmatic, and need to have the imagination stimulated: such would be benefitted by this kind of reading. Others have quick and active imaginations, and would be as much injured. Some persons are often so engaged in absorbing interests, that any thing innocent, which will for a short time draw off the mind, is of the nature of a medicine; and, in such cases, this kind of reading is useful. There is need, also, that some men should keep a supervision of the current literature of the day, as guardians, to warn others of danger. For this purpose, it is more suitable for _editors_, _clergymen_, and _teachers_, to read indiscriminately, than for any other class of persons; for they are the guardians of the public weal, in matters of literature, and should be prepared to advise parents and young persons of the evils in one direction and the good in another. In doing this, however, they are bound to go on the same principles which regulate physicians, when they visit infected districts,--using every precaution to prevent injury to themselves; having as little to do with pernicious exposures, as a benevolent regard to others will allow; and faithfully employing all the knowledge and opportunities, thus gained, for warning and preserving others. There is much danger, in taking this course, that men will seek the excitement of the imagination, for the mere pleasure it affords, under the plea of preparing to serve the public, when this is neither the aim nor the result. In regard to the use of such works, by the young, as a general rule, they ought not to be allowed to any, except those of a dull and phlegmatic temperament, until the solid parts of education are secured, and a taste for more elevated reading is acquired. If these stimulating condiments in literature be freely used, in youth, all relish for more solid reading, will, in a majority of cases, be destroyed. If parents succeed in securing habits of cheerful and implicit obedience, it will be very easy to regulate this matter, by prohibiting the reading of any story-book, until the consent of the parent is obtained. It is not unfrequently the case, that advocates for dancing, and the other more exciting amusements, speak as if those, who were more strict in these matters, were aiming to deprive the young of all diversions; just as if, when cards, theatres, and dancing, are cut off, nothing remains but serious and severe duties. Perhaps there has been some just ground of objection to the course often pursued by parents, in neglecting to provide agreeable and suitable substitutes, for the amusements denied; but, there is a great abundance of safe, healthful, and delightful, recreations, which all parents may secure for their children. Some of these will here be pointed out. One of the most useful and important, is, the cultivation of flowers and fruits. This, especially for the daughters of a family, is greatly promotive of health and amusement. It is with the hope, that many young ladies, whose habits are now so formed, that they can never be induced to a course of active domestic exercise, so long as their parents are able to hire domestics, may yet be led to an employment, which will tend to secure health and vigor of constitution, that so much space is given, in this work, to directions for the cultivation of fruits and flowers. It would be a most desirable improvement, if all female schools could be furnished with suitable grounds, and instruments, for the cultivation of fruits and flowers, and every inducement offered, to engage the young ladies in this pursuit. No father, who wishes to have his daughters grow up to be healthful women, can take a surer method to secure this end. Let him set apart a portion of his yard and garden, for fruits and flowers, and see that the soil is well prepared and dug over, and all the rest may be committed to the care of the children. These would need to be provided with a light hoe and rake, a dibble, or garden trowel, a watering-pot, and means and opportunities for securing seeds, roots, buds, and grafts, all which might be done at a trifling expense. Then, with proper encouragement, and by the aid of such directions as are contained in this work, every man, who has even half an acre, could secure a small Eden around his premises. In pursuing this amusement, children can also be led to acquire many useful habits. Early rising would, in many cases, be thus secured; and if they were required to keep their walks and borders free from weeds and rubbish, habits of order and neatness would be induced. Benevolent and social feelings could also be cultivated, by influencing children to share their fruits and flowers with friends and neighbors, as well as to distribute roots and seeds to those, who have not the means of procuring them. A woman or a child, by giving seeds, or slips, or roots, to a washerwoman, or a farmer's boy, thus exciting them to love and cultivate fruits and flowers, awakens a new and refining source of enjoyment in minds, which have few resources more elevated than mere physical enjoyments. Our Saviour directs, in making feasts, to call, not the rich, who can recompense again, but the poor, who can make no returns. So children should be taught to dispense their little treasures, not alone to companions and friends, who will probably return similar favors; but to those who have no means of making any return. If the rich, who acquire a love for the enjoyments of taste, and have the means to gratify it, would aim to extend, among the poor, the cheap and simple enjoyment of fruits and flowers, our Country would soon literally "blossom as the rose." If the ladies of a neighborhood would unite small contributions, and send a list of flower-seeds and roots to some respectable and honest florist, who would not be likely to turn them off with trash, they could divide these among themselves, so as to secure an abundant variety, at a very small expense. A bag of flower-seeds, which can be obtained, at wholesale, for four cents, would abundantly supply a whole neighborhood; and, by the gathering of seeds, in the Autumn, could be perpetuated. Another very elevating and delightful recreation, for the young, is found in _music_. Here, the writer would protest against the common practice, in many families, of having the daughters learn to play on the piano, whether they have a taste and an ear for music, or not. A young lady, who cannot sing, and has no great fondness for music, does nothing but waste time, money, and patience, in learning to play on the piano. But all children can be taught to sing, in early childhood, if the scientific mode of teaching music, in schools, could be introduced, as it is in Prussia, Germany, and Switzerland. Then, young children could read and sing music, as easily as they can read language; and might take any tune, dividing themselves into bands, and sing off, at sight, the endless variety of music which is prepared. And if parents of wealth would take pains to have teachers qualified for the purpose, as they may be at the Boston Academy, and other similar institutions, who should teach all the young children in the community, much would be done for the happiness and elevation of the rising generation. This is an amusement, which children relish, in the highest degree; and which they can enjoy, at home, in the fields, and in visits abroad. Another domestic amusement, is, the collecting of shells, plants, and specimens in geology and mineralogy, for the formation of cabinets. If intelligent parents would procure the simpler works which have been prepared for the young, and study them, with their children, a _taste_ for such recreations would soon be developed. The writer has seen young boys, of eight and ten years of age, gathering and cleaning shells from rivers, and collecting plants, and mineralogical specimens, with a delight, bordering on ecstasy; and there are few, if any, who, by proper influences, would not find this a source of ceaseless delight and improvement. Another resource, for family diversion, is to be found in the various games played by children, and in which the joining of older members of the family is always a great advantage to both parties. All medical men unite, in declaring that nothing is more beneficial to health, than hearty laughter; and surely our benevolent Creator would not have provided risibles, and made it a source of health and enjoyment to use them, if it were a sin so to do. There has been a tendency to asceticism, on this subject, which needs to be removed. Such commands, as forbid _foolish_ laughing and jesting, "_which are not convenient_;" and which forbid all idle words, and vain conversation, cannot apply to any thing, except what is foolish, vain, and useless. But jokes, laughter, and sports, when used in such a degree as tends only to promote health, social feelings, and happiness, are neither vain, foolish, nor "not convenient." It is the excess of these things, and not the moderate use of them, which Scripture forbids. The prevailing temper of the mind, should be cheerful, yet serious; but there are times, when relaxation and laughter are proper for all. There is nothing better for this end, than that parents and older persons should join in the sports of childhood. Mature minds can always make such diversions more entertaining to children, and can exert a healthful moral influence over their minds; and, at the same time, can gain exercise and amusement for themselves. How lamentable, that so many fathers, who could be thus useful and happy with their children, throw away such opportunities, and wear out soul and body, in the pursuit of gain or fame! Another resource for children, is in the exercise of mechanical skill. Fathers, by providing tools for their boys, and showing them how to make wheelbarrows, carts, sleds, and various other articles, contribute both to the physical, moral, and social, improvement of their children. And in regard to little daughters, much more can be done, in this way, than many would imagine. The writer, blessed with the example of a most ingenious and industrious mother, had not only learned, before the age of twelve, to make dolls, of various sorts and sizes, but to cut and fit and sew every article, that belongs to a doll's wardrobe. This, which was done for mere amusement, secured such a facility in mechanical pursuits, that, ever afterward, the cutting and fitting of any article of dress, for either sex, was accomplished with entire ease. When a little girl first begins to sew, her mother can promise her a small bed and pillows, as soon as she has sewed a patch quilt for them; and then a bedstead, as soon as she has sewed the sheets and cases for pillows; and then a large doll to dress, as soon as she has made the under garments; and thus go on, till the whole contents of the baby-house are earned by the needle and skill of its little owner. Thus, the task of learning to sew, will become a pleasure; and every new toy will be earned by useful exertion. A little girl can be taught, by the aid of patterns prepared for the purpose, to cut and fit all articles necessary for her doll. She can also be provided with a little wash-tub, and irons, to wash and iron, and thus keep in proper order a complete miniature domestic establishment. Besides these recreations, there are the enjoyments secured in walking, riding, visiting, and many others which need not be recounted. Children, if trained to be healthful and industrious, will never fail to discover resources of amusement; while their guardians should lend their aid to guide and restrain them from excess. There is need of a very great change of opinion and practice, in this Nation, in regard to the subject of social and domestic duties. Many sensible and conscientious men, spend all their time, abroad, in business, except, perhaps, an hour or so at night, when they are so fatigued, as to be unfitted for any social or intellectual enjoyment. And some of the most conscientious men in the Country, will add, to their professional business, public or benevolent enterprises, which demand time, effort, and money; and then excuse themselves for neglecting all care of their children, and efforts for their own intellectual improvement, or for the improvement of their families, by the plea, that they have no time for it. All this, arises from the want of correct notions of the binding obligation of our social and domestic duties. The main object of life, is not to secure the various gratifications of appetite or taste, but to _form such a character_, for ourselves and others, as will secure the greatest amount of present and future happiness. It is of far more consequence, then, that parents should be intelligent, social, affectionate, and agreeable, at home, and to their friends, than that they should earn money enough to live in a large house, and have handsome furniture. It is far more needful, for children, that a father should attend to the formation of their character and habits, and aid in developing their social, intellectual, and moral nature, than it is, that he should earn money to furnish them with handsome clothes, and a variety of tempting food. It will be wise for those parents, who find little time to attend to their children, or to seek amusement and enjoyment in the domestic and social circle, because their time is so much occupied with public cares or benevolent objects, to inquire, whether their first duty is not to train up their own families, to be useful members of society. A man, who neglects the mind and morals of his children, to take care of the public, is in great danger of coming under a similar condemnation, to that of him, who, neglecting to provide for his own household, has "denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." There are husbands and fathers, who conscientiously subtract time from their business, to spend at home, in reading with their wives and children, and in domestic amusements which at once refresh and improve. The children of such parents will grow up with a love of home and kindred, which will be the greatest safeguard against future temptations, as well as the purest source of earthly enjoyment. There are families, also, who make it a definite object to keep up family attachments, after the children are scattered abroad; and, in some cases, secure the means for doing this, by saving money, which would otherwise have been spent for superfluities of food or dress. Some families have adopted, for this end, a practice, which if widely imitated, would be productive of extensive benefit. The method is this. On the first day of each month, some member of the family, at each extreme point of dispersion, takes a folio sheet, and fills a part of a page. This is sealed and mailed to the next family, who read it, add another contribution, and then mail it to the next. Thus the family circular, once a month, goes from each extreme, to all the members of a widely-dispersed family, and each member becomes a sharer in the joys, sorrows, plans, and pursuits, of all the rest. At the same time, frequent family meetings are sought; and the expense, thus incurred, is cheerfully met by retrenchments in other directions. The sacrifice of some unnecessary physical indulgence, (such, for instance, as the use of tea and coffee,) will often purchase many social and domestic enjoyments, a thousand times more elevating and delightful, than the retrenched luxury. There is no social duty, which the Supreme Lawgiver more strenuously urges, than hospitality and kindness to strangers, who are classed with the widow and the fatherless, as the special objects of Divine tenderness. There are some reasons, why this duty peculiarly demands attention from the American people. Reverses of fortune, in this land, are so frequent and unexpected, and the habits of the people are so migratory, that there are very many in every part of the Country, who, having seen all their temporal plans and hopes crushed, are now pining among strangers, bereft of wonted comforts, without friends, and without the sympathy and society, so needful to wounded spirits. Such, too frequently, sojourn long and lonely, with no comforter but Him who "knoweth the heart of a stranger." Whenever, therefore, new comers enter a community, inquiry should immediately be made, whether they have friends and associates, to render sympathy and kind attentions; and, when there is any need for it, the ministries of kind neighborhood should immediately be offered. And it should be remembered, that the first days of a stranger's sojourn, are the most dreary, and that civility and kindness are doubled in value, by being offered at an early period. In social gatherings, the claims of the stranger are too apt to be forgotten; especially, in cases where there are no peculiar attractions of personal appearance, or talents, or high standing. Such a one should be treated with attention, _because he is a stranger_; and when communities learn to act more from principle, and less from selfish impulse, on this subject, the sacred claims of the stranger will be less frequently forgotten. The most agreeable hospitality, to visiters, who become inmates of a family, is, that which puts them entirely at ease. This can never be the case, where the guest perceives that the order of family arrangements is essentially altered, and that time, comfort, and convenience are sacrificed, for his accommodation. Offering the best to visiters, showing a polite regard to every wish expressed, and giving precedence to them, in all matters of comfort and convenience, can be easily combined with the easy freedom which makes the stranger feel at home; and this is the perfection of hospitable entertainment. CHAPTER XXIV. ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF HOUSES. There is no point of domestic economy, which more seriously involves the health and daily comfort of American women, than the proper construction of houses. There are five particulars, to which attention should be given, in building a house; namely, economy of labor, economy of money, economy of health, economy of comfort, and good taste. Some particulars will here be pointed out, under each of these heads. The first, respects _economy of labor_. In deciding upon the size and style of a house, the health and capacity of the housekeeper, and the probabilities of securing proper domestics, ought to be the very first consideration. If a man be uncertain as to his means for hiring service, or if he have a feeble wife, and be where properly-qualified domestics are scarce, it is very poor economy to build a large house, or to live in a style which demands much labor. Every room in a house adds to the expense involved in finishing and furnishing it, and to the amount of labor spent in sweeping, dusting, cleaning floors, paint, and windows, and taking care of, and repairing, its furniture. Double the size of a house, and you double the labor of taking care of it, and so, _vice versa_. There is, in this Country, a very great want of calculation and economy, in this matter. The arrangement of rooms, and the proper supply of conveniences, are other points, in which, economy of labor and comfort is often disregarded. For example, a kitchen will be in one story, a sitting-room in another, and the nursery in a third. Nothing is more injurious, to a feeble woman, than going up and down stairs; and yet, in order to gain two large parlors, to show to a few friends, or to strangers, immense sacrifices of health, comfort, and money, are made. If it be possible, the nursery, sitting-parlor, and kitchen, ought always to be on the same floor. The position of wells and cisterns, and the modes of raising and carrying water, are other particulars, in which, economy of labor and comfort is sadly neglected. With half the expense usually devoted to a sideboard or sofa, the water used from a well or cistern can be so conducted, as that, by simply turning a cock, it will flow to the place where it is to be used. A want of economy, in labor and in money, is often seen in the shape and arrangement of houses, and in the style of ornaments and furniture. A _perfect square_, encloses more rooms, at less expense, than any other shape; while it has less surface exposed to external cold, and can be most easily warmed and ventilated. And the farther a house is removed from this shape, the more the expense is increased. Wings and kitchens built out, beyond a house, very much increase expense, both in building and warming them. Piazzas and porticoes are very expensive; and their cost would secure far more comfort, if devoted to additional nursery or kitchen conveniences. Many kinds of porticoes cost as much as one additional room in the house. Houses can be so constructed, that one staircase will answer for both kitchen and parlour use, as may be seen in the engraving on page 269, (Fig. 27.) This saves the expense and labor usually devoted to a large hall and front staircase. Much money is often worse than wasted, by finical ornaments, which are fast going out of fashion. One of the largest, most beautiful, and agreeable, houses, the writer was ever in, was finished with doors, windows, and fireplaces, in even a plainer style than any given in the subsequent drawings. The position of fireplaces has much to do with economy of expense in warming a house. Where the fireplace is in an outer wall, one third of the heat passes out of doors, which would be retained in the house, if the chimney were within the rooms. A house, contrived like the one represented in the engraving on page 272, (Fig. 32,) which can be heated by a stove or chimney at X, may be warmed with less fuel than one of any other construction.[R] _Economy of health_ is often disregarded, by placing wells, cisterns, and privies, so that persons, in the perspiration of labor, or the debility of disease, are obliged to go out of doors in all weathers. Figure 35, on page 276, shows the proper arrangement of such conveniences. The placing of an outside door, for common use, in a sitting-room, as is frequent at the West and South, is detrimental to health. In such cases, children, in their sports, or persons who labor, are thrown into perspiration, by exercise, the door is thrown open, a chill ensues, and fever, bowel complaints, or bilious attacks, are the result. A long window, extending down to the floor, which can be used as a door, in Summer, and be tightly closed, at the bottom, in Winter, secures all the benefits, without the evils, of an outside door. Constructing houses, without open fireplaces in chambers, or any other mode of ventilation, is another sad violation of the economy of health. Feeble constitutions in children, and ill health to domestics, are often caused by this folly. The _economy of comfort_ is often violated, by arrangements made for domestics. Many a woman has been left to endure much hard labor and perplexity, because she chose to have money spent on handsome parlors and chambers, for company, which should have been devoted to providing a comfortable kitchen and chambers for domestics. Cramping the conveniences and comfort of a family, in order to secure elegant rooms, to show to company, is a weakness and folly, which it is hoped will every year become less common. The construction of houses with reference to _good taste_, is a desirable, though less important, item. The beauty of a house depends very much upon propriety of proportions, color, and ornament. And it is always as cheap, and generally cheaper, to build a house in agreement with the rules of good taste, than to build an awkward and ill-proportioned one. _Plans of Houses and Domestic Conveniences._ The following plans are designed chiefly for persons in moderate circumstances, and have especial reference to young housekeepers. Every year, as the prosperity of this Nation increases, good domestics will decrease, and young mothers are hereafter to be called to superintend and perform all branches of domestic business, to nurse children, direct ignorant domestics, attend the sick, entertain company, and fulfil all other family duties; and this, too, in a majority of cases, with delicate constitutions, or impaired health. Every man, therefore, in forming plans for a future residence, and every woman who has any influence in deciding such matters, ought to make these probabilities the chief basis of their calculations.[S] [Illustration: Fig. 17.] [Illustration: Fig. 18. Ground-plan. _a_, Porch. _b_, Parlor, 15 by 16 feet. _c_, Dining-room, 15 by 16 feet. _d, d_, Small Bedrooms. _e_, Stairs. _f, f, f_, Closets. _g_, Pantry. _h_, Store-closet. _i, i, i_, Fireplaces. _j_, Kitchen. _k_, Bedpress. _z_, Cellar door. Scale of Feet.] The plan, exhibited in Figures 17, and 18, is that of a cottage, whose chief exterior beauty is its fine proportions. It should be painted white. Fig. 17, is the _elevation_, or the front view of the exterior. Fig. 18, is the ground-plan, in which, an entire break in the wall, represents a door, and a break with a line across it, a window. When a cross x is put by a door, it indicates into which room the door swings, and where the hinges should be put, as the comfort of a fireside very much depends on the way in which the doors are hung. A scale of measurement is given at the bottom of the drawings, by which, the size of all parts can be measured. The ten small divisions, are each one foot. The longest divisions are ten feet each. In the ground-plan, (Fig. 18,) _a_, is the porch, which projects enough to afford an entrance to the two adjacent rooms, and thus avoids the evil of an outside door to a sitting-room. If a door be wanted in these rooms, the front windows can be made to extend down to the floor, so as to serve as doors in Summer, and be tightly closed in Winter. The parlor, _b_, has the bedpress, _k_, and the closet, _f_, adjoining it. Figure 19 is intended to represent this side of the room. [Illustration: Fig. 19. Scale of Feet for the Doors.] The two large doors, in the centre, open into the bedpress, and one of the smaller ones into the closet, _f_. The other, can either be a false door, in order to secure symmetry, or else a real one, opening into the kitchen, _j_. A room, thus arranged, can be made to serve as a genteel parlor, for company, during the day, when all these doors can be closed. At night, the doors of the bedpress being opened, it is changed to an airy bedroom, while the closets, _f, f_, serve to conceal all accommodations pertaining to a bedroom. The bedpress is just large enough to receive a bed; and under it, if need be, might be placed a trucklebed, for young children. The eating-room, _c_, has the small bedroom, _d_, adjoining it, which, by leaving the door open, at night, will be sufficiently airy for a sleeping-room. The kitchen, _j_, has a smaller bedroom, _d_, attached to it, which will hold a narrow single bed for a domestic; and, if need be, a narrow trucklebed under it, for a child. The staircase to the garret, can either be placed in the eating-room, or in the small entry. A plan for back accommodations is shown in Fig. 35, (page 276.) These should be placed in the rear of the kitchen, so as not to cover the window. A house like this, will conveniently accommodate a family of six or eight persons; but some economy and contrivance will be needed, in storing away articles of dress and bedclothing. For this end, in the bedpress, _k_, of the parlor, _b_, (Fig. 18,) a wide shelf may be placed, two feet from the ceiling, where winter bedding, or folded clothing, can be stowed, while a short curtain in front, hung from the wall, will give a tidy look, and keep out dust. Under this shelf, if need be, pegs can be placed, to hold other articles; and a curtain be hung from the edge of the shelf, to conceal and protect them. Both the closets, _f, f_, should have shelves and drawers. The garret can have a window inserted in the roof, and thus be made serviceable for storage. [Illustration: Fig. 20.] Figure 20 represents a fireplace and mantelpiece, in a style corresponding with the doors. Such a cottage as this, could be built for from five hundred to nine hundred dollars, according as the expense of labor in the place, and the excellence of the materials and labor, may vary. [Illustration: Fig. 21.] Figures 21 and 22, show the elevation and ground-plan of a cottage, in which the rooms are rather more agreeably arranged, than in the former plan. The elevation, (Fig. 21,) has a piazza, running across the whole front. This would cost nearly two hundred dollars; and, for this sum, another story might be added. An architect told the writer, that he could build the two-story house, (Fig. 23 and 24,) without a piazza, for the same sum, as this cottage, _with_ one. This shows the poor economy of these appendages. The ground-plan, (Fig. 22,) will be understood, from the explanation appended to it. [Illustration: Fig. 22. Scale of Feet. _a_, Porch. _b_, Entry. _c_, Stairs. _d_, Parlor, 16 by 20 feet. _e_, Dining-room, 16 by 16 feet. _f_, Kitchen. _g, g, g_, Bedpresses. _h, h, h, h_, Closets. _i_, Store-closet. _j_, Back entry and Sink. _p_, Cellar stairs. _o, o, o_, Fireplaces.] The parlor, _d_, is designed to have the doors (shown in Fig. 19) placed at the end, where is the bedpress, _g_. This will make it a handsome parlor, by day, and yet allow it to be used as a bedroom, at night. The bedpresses, in the other rooms, can have less expensive doors. A window is put in each bedpress, to secure proper ventilation. These should be opened, to air the bed, on leaving it. These can be fitted up with shelves, pegs, and curtains, as before described. If the elevation of the first cottage be preferred to this, as being less expensive, it can be used, by altering it a little; thus, instead of the projection for the entry, make a slight projection, of the width of one brick, to preserve the same general outside appearance. Let the windows extend down to the floor, and the beauty of symmetry will also be preserved. [Illustration: Fig. 23. Ground-plan. _a_, Entry. _b_, Stairs. _c_, Parlor, 16 by 20 feet. _d_, Kitchen, 14 by 14 feet. _e_, Store-closet. _f_, Pantry. _g_, Sinkroom. _h_, Closet. _i, i_, Fireplaces. _n_, Cellar door. _o_, Oven. _y_, Furnace. _z_, Sink. Scale of Feet.] [Illustration: Fig. 24. Second Story. _a_, Stairs. _b_, Passage. _c, c, c_, Bedrooms. _d, d, d, d_, Closets. _e, e_, Fireplaces. _f_, Nursery. _g_, Room for young children.] The plans, shown in Fig. 23 and 24, are designed for families, where most domestic labor is to be done without the aid of domestics. The parlor, _c_, is for a sitting-room, and for company. The room, _d_, is the eating-room; where, also, the ironing and other nicer family work can be done. In the small room, _g_, either an oven and boiler, or a cooking-stove, can be placed. The elevation, shown in Fig. 25, is designed for the front of this house. [Illustration: Fig. 25.] [Illustration: Fig. 26.] Figures 27 and 28, are plans of a two-story house, on a larger scale, with a concealed staircase, for front and back use. The elevation, Fig. 26, is designed for this plan. [Illustration: Fig. 27. Ground-plan. _b, b_, Entry. _c_, Stairs. _d_, Parlor, 16 by 20 feet. _e_, Dining-room, 15 by 16 feet. _f_, Kitchen, 15 by 16 feet. _g, g, g_, Closets. _h_, Store-closet. _i_, Back entry. _j_, Pantry. _k, k, k_, Fireplaces. _x_, Cellar stairs.] [Illustration: Fig. 28. Second Story. _a, a, a, a_, Bedrooms. _b_, Stairs. _c, c, c_, Closets. _d_, Passage. _e, e, e_, Fireplaces. _y_, Garret stairs.] [Illustration: Fig. 29. Ground-floor. _b_, Entry. _c_, Parlor, 17 by 17 feet. _d_, Dining-room, 13 by 15 feet. _e_, Parlor or Bedroom, 17 by 17 feet. _f_, Kitchen, 19 by 17 feet. _g_, Stairs. _h_, Store-closet. _i, i, i_, Closets. _n, n, n, n_, Fireplaces. _o_, Folding-doors. _p_, Pegs for over-garments. _z_, Cellar stairs.] [Illustration: Fig. 30. Second Story. _a, a, a, a, a_, Bedrooms. _b_, Stairs. _c_, Passage. _d, d, d, d_, Closets. _e, e, e, e_, Fireplaces.] Figures 29 and 30, are plans for a larger house, which can have either of the elevations, Fig. 25 or 26, adapted to it. These also have a concealed staircase, for front and back use. If a nursery, or bedroom, is wished, on the ground-floor, the back parlor, _e_, can be taken; in which case, the closets, _i_, _i_, are very useful. To prevent noise from reaching the front parlor, two sets of folding-doors, each side of the passage, _o_, could be placed. With this arrangement, these rooms could be used, sometimes as two parlors, opening into each other, by folding doors, and at other times, as a nursery and parlor. In this plan, the storeroom, _h_, and china-closet, _i_, between the kitchen and eating-room, are a great convenience. Figures 31 and 32, present the plan of a Gothic cottage, which secures the most economy of _labor_ and _expense_, with the greatest amount of _convenience and comfort_, which the writer has ever seen. [Illustration: Fig. 31.] The elevation, (Fig. 31,) exhibits the front view. It has a recess in the central part, under which, is the door, with a window on each side of it. This forms a piazza; and into this, and a similar one at the back of the house, the two centre parlors open. [Illustration: Fig. 32.] In the centre of the house, (see Fig. 32,) are the two parlors, _b_ and _c_; the back one to be used as an eating-room. At X, can be placed, either a chimney, with doors on each side of the fireplace, or, (which is the most agreeable,) folding-doors, which can be thrown open in Summer, thus making a large saloon, through the house, from one piazza to the other. In this case, the parlors are warmed by a large stove, set near the folding-doors, which would easily warm both parlors and one or two adjacent rooms. In Winter, the outside doors, opening to the piazzas, should be fastened and calked, and the side entry, at _d_, be used. At _e_, is the nursery, with the bedpress, _g_, which, being closed by day, makes a retired parlor for the mother. At _n_, is the children's playroom and sleeping-room, adjoining the mother's room. At _k_, is the kitchen, adjacent to the eating-room, with the storeroom, _e_, and the closets, _m_, _m_, one for the eating-room, and one for the kitchen utensils. At _i_, is a parlor, which can be used for a study or library, by the master of the family; while the adjacent bedpress, _j_, renders it a convenient lodging-room, for guests. Another lodging-room, is at _h_; and in the attic, is space enough for several comfortable lodging-rooms. A window in the roof, on the front and back, like the one on Wadsworth's Cottage, (Fig. 33,) could be placed over the front door, to light the chambers in the attic. A double roof in the attic, with a current of air between, secures cool chambers. The closets are marked _o_, and the fireplaces _p_. The stairs to the attic are at _q_. By this arrangement, the housekeeper has her parlor, sleeping-room, nursery, and kitchen, on the same floor, while the rooms with bedpresses, enable her to increase either parlors or lodging-rooms, at pleasure, without involving the care of a very large and expensive house. Figure 33, is the representation of a cottage, built by Daniel Wadsworth, Esq., in the vicinity of Hartford, Connecticut; and is on a plan, which, though much smaller, is very similar to the plan represented in Fig. 32. It serves to show the manner in which the _roofs_ should be arranged, in Fig. 31, which, being seen exactly in front, does not give any idea of the mode of this arrangement. The elevation of Wadsworth's cottage, could be taken for the ground-plan shown in Fig. 32, if it be preferred to the other. Both this cottage, and all the other plans, require a woodhouse, and the conveniences connected with it, which are represented in Fig. 35, (page 276.) For these Gothic cottages, an appendage of this sort should be in keeping with the rest, having windows, like those in the little Summer-house in the drawing, and battlements, as on the top of the wings of the barn. The ornaments on the front of the cottage, and the pillars of the portico, made simply of the trunks of small trees, give a beautiful rural finish, and their expense is trifling. In this picture, the trees could not be placed as they are in reality, because they would hide the buildings. [Illustration: Fig. 33.] In arranging yards and grounds, the house should be set back, as in the drawing of Wadsworth's cottage; and, instead of planting shade-trees in straight lines, or scattering them about, as single trees, they should be arranged in clusters, with large openings for turf, flowers, and shrubbery, which never flourish well under the shade and dropping of trees. This also secures spots of dark and cool shade, even when trees are young. In arranging shade-trees tastefully around such a place, a large cluster might be placed on each side of the gate; another on the circular grass-plot, at the side of the house; another at a front corner; and another at a back corner. Shrubbery, along the walks, and on the circular plot, in front, and flowers close to the house, would look well. The barn, also, should have clusters of trees near it; and occasional single trees, on the lawn, would give the graceful ease and variety seen in nature. Figure 34, represents the accommodations for securing water with the least labor. It is designed for a well or cistern under ground. The reservoir, R, may be a half hogshead, or something larger, which may be filled once a day, from the pump, by a man, or boy. [Illustration: Fig. 34. _P_, Pump. _L_, Steps to use when pumping. _R_, Reservoir. _G_, Brickwork to raise the Reservoir. _B_, A large Boiler. _F_, Furnace, beneath the Boiler. _C_, Conductor of cold water. _H_, Conductor of hot water. _K_, Cock for letting cold water into the Boiler. _S_, Pipe to conduct cold water to a cock over the kitchen sink. _T_, Bathing-tub, which receives cold water from the Conductor, _C_, and hot water from the Conductor, _H_. _W_, Partition separating the Bathing-room from the Wash-room. _Y_, Cock to draw off hot water. _Z_, Plug to let off the water from the Bathing-tub into a drain.] The conductor, C, should be a lead pipe, which, instead of going over the boiler, should be bent along behind it. From S, a branch sets off, which conducts the cold water to the sink in the kitchen, where it discharges with a cock. H, is a conductor from the lower part of the boiler, made of copper, or some metal not melted by great heat; and at Y, a cock is placed, to draw off hot water. Then the conductor passes to the bathing-tub, where is another cock. At Z, the water is let off from the bathing-tub. By this arrangement, great quantities of hot and cold water can be used, with no labor in carrying, and with very little labor in raising it. In case a cistern is built above ground, it can be placed as the reservoir is, and then all the labor of pumping is saved. [Illustration: Fig. 35. _A_, Boiler and furnace. _B_, Bathing-room. _C_, Reservoir. _D_, Pump. _E_, Wash-form. _F_, Sink. _G_, Kitchen. _H_, Woodpile. _I_, Large doors. _i_,_i_, Bins for coal and ashes. _O_, Window. _P_, _P_, Privies. _T_, Bathing-tub. _V_, Door.] Fig. 35, is the plan of a building for back-door accommodations. At _A_, _C_, _D_, _E_, are accommodations shown in Fig. 34. The bathing-room is adjacent to the boiler and reservoir, to receive the water. The privy, _P_, _P_, should have two apartments, as indispensable to healthful habits in a family. A window should be placed at _O_, and a door, with springs or a weight to keep it shut, should be at _V_. Keeping the window open, and the door shut, will prevent any disagreeable effects in the house. At _G_, is the kitchen, and at _F_, the sink, which should have a conductor and cock from the reservoir. _H_, is the place for wood, where it should in Summer be stored for Winter. A bin, for coal, and also a brick receiver, for ashes, should be in this part. Every woman should use her influence to secure all these conveniences; even if it involves the sacrifice of the piazza, or "the best parlor." [Illustration: Fig. 36. Front View. Side View.] Fig. 36, is a latticed portico, which is cheap, and answers all the purposes of a more expensive one. It should be solid, overhead, to turn off the rain, and creepers should be trained over it. A simple latticed arch, over a door, covered with creepers, is very cheap, and serves instead of an expensive portico. [Illustration: Fig. 37. _C_, Parlor ceiling. _K_, Kitchen ceiling.] Fig. 37, represents a _sliding closet_, or _dumb waiter_, a convenience which saves much labor, when the kitchen is in the basement. The two closets should be made wide, and broad enough to receive a common waiter. The chain, or rope, which passes over the wheels, should branch, at _X_, so as to keep the closet from rubbing in its movements, when the dishes are not set exactly in the middle, or are of unequal weights. By this method, almost every thing needed to pass between the kitchen and parlor can be sent up and down, without any steps. If the kitchen is not directly under the eating-room, the sliding closet can be placed in the vicinity of one or both. Where the place is not wide enough for two closets like these, they can be made wider than they are long, say one foot and six inches long, and three feet wide. A strip of wood, an inch broad, should be fastened on the front and back of the shelves, to prevent the dishes from being broken when they are set on carelessly. There is nothing, which so much improves the appearance of a house and the premises, as painting or whitewashing the tenements and fences. The following receipts for whitewashing, answer the same purpose for wood, brick, and stone, as oil-paint, and are much cheaper. The first, is the receipt used for the President's house, at Washington, improved by further experiments. The second, is a cheaper one, which the writer has known to succeed, in a variety of cases, lasting as long, and looking as well, as white oil-paint. _Receipt._ Take half a bushel of unslacked lime, and slack it with boiling water, covering it, during the process. Strain it, and add a peck of salt, dissolved in warm water; three pounds of ground rice, boiled to a thin paste, put in boiling hot; half a pound of powdered Spanish whiting; and a pound of clear glue, dissolved in warm water. Mix, and let it stand several days. Heat it in a kettle, on a portable furnace, and apply it as hot as possible, with a painter's or whitewash-brush. _Another._ Make whitewash, in the usual way, except that the water used should be hot, and nearly saturated with salt. Then stir in four handfuls of fine sand, to make it thick like cream. Coloring matter can be added to both, making a light stone-color, a cream-color, or a light buff, which are most suitable for buildings. FOOTNOTES: [R] Many houses are now heated, by a furnace in the cellar, which receives pure air from out of doors, heats it, and sends it into several rooms, while water is evaporated to prevent the air from becoming dry. The most perfect one the writer has seen, is constructed by Mr. Fowler, of Hartford. This method secures well-ventilated rooms, and is very economical, where several rooms are to be warmed. [S] Those, who are amateurs in architecture, in judging of these designs, must take into consideration, that this is a work on domestic _economy_, and that matters of taste, have necessarily been made subordinate to points, involving economy of health, comfort, and expense. Still, it is believed, that good taste has been essentially preserved, in most of these designs. CHAPTER XXV. ON FIRES AND LIGHTS. A shallow fireplace saves wood, and gives out more heat than a deeper one. A false back, of brick, may be put up in a deep fireplace. Hooks, for holding up the shovel and tongs, a hearth-brush and bellows, and brass knobs to hang them on, should be furnished to every fireplace. An iron bar, across the andirons, aids in keeping the fire safe, and in good order. Steel furniture is more genteel, and more easily kept in order, than that made of brass. Use green wood, for logs, and mix green and dry wood for the fire; and then the woodpile will last much longer. Walnut, maple, hickory, and oak, wood, are best, chestnut or hemlock is bad, because it snaps. Do not buy a load, in which there are many crooked sticks. Learn how to measure and calculate the solid contents of a load, so as not to be cheated. Have all your wood split, and piled under cover, for Winter. Have the green wood logs in one pile, dry wood in another, oven-wood in another, kindlings and chips in another, and a supply of charcoal to use for broiling and ironing, in another place. Have a brick bin, for ashes, and never allow them to be put in wood. When quitting fires, at night, never leave a burning stick across the andirons, nor on its end, without quenching it. See that no fire adheres to the broom or brush; remove all articles from the fire, and have two pails, filled with water, in the kitchen, where they will not freeze. _Stoves and Grates._ Rooms, heated by stoves, should always have some opening for the admission of fresh air, or they will be injurious to health. The dryness of the air, which they occasion, should be remedied, either by placing a vessel, filled with water, on the stove, or by hooking a long and narrow pan, filled with water, in front of the grate; otherwise, the lungs or eyes may be injured. A large number of plants in a room, prevents this dryness of the air. Openings for pipes, through floors, partitions, or fireboards, should be surrounded by tin, to prevent their taking fire. Lengthening a pipe, will increase its draught. For those, who use _anthracite coal_, that which is broken or screened, is best for grates, and the nut-coal, for small stoves. Three tons are sufficient, in the Middle States, and four tons in the Northern, to keep one fire through the Winter. That which is bright, hard, and clean, is best; and that which is soft, porous, and covered with damp dust, is poor. It will be well to provide two barrels of charcoal, for kindling, to every ton of anthracite coal. Grates, for _bituminous_ coal, should have a flue nearly as deep as the grate; and the bars should be round, and not close together. The better draught there is, the less coal-dust is made. Every grate should be furnished with a poker, shovel, tongs, blower, coal-scuttle, and holder for the blower. The latter may be made of woollen, covered with old silk, and hung near the fire. Coal-stoves should be carefully put up, as cracks, in the pipe, especially in sleeping rooms, are dangerous. _On Lights._ Lamps are better than candles, as they give a steadier light, and do not scatter grease, like tallow candles. The best oil, is clear, and nearly colorless. Winter-strained oil should be used in cold weather. Lard is a good substitute for oil, for astral and other large lamps. It is cheaper, burns clearer, and has a less disagreeable smell. It will not burn so well in small lamps, as in large ones. Melt it every morning, in an old pitcher, kept for the purpose. Oil, long kept, grows thick, and does not burn well. It is therefore best not to buy it in large quantities. It should never be left standing in lamps, for several days, as this spoils it, and often injures the lamps. Camphine is a kind of oil manufactured in New York, which does not smell disagreeably, nor make grease-spots, and gives a brighter light than the best oil. Cleanse the insides of lamps and oil-cans, with pearlash-water. Be careful to drain them well, and not to let any gilding, or bronze, be injured by the pearlash-water coming in contact with it. Put one tablespoonful of pearlash to one quart of water. The care of lamps requires so much attention and discretion, that many ladies choose to do this work, themselves, rather than trust it with domestics. To do it properly, provide the following things:--An old waiter, to hold all the articles used; a lamp-filler, with a spout, small at the end, and turned up to prevent oil from dripping; a ball of wickyarn, and a basket to hold it; a lamp-trimmer, made for the purpose, or a pair of _sharp_ scissors; a small soap-cup and soap; some pearlash, in a broad-mouthed bottle; and several soft cloths, to wash the articles, and towels, to wipe them. If every thing, after being used, is cleansed from oil, and then kept neatly, it will not be so unpleasant a task, as it usually is, to take care of lamps. Wash the shade of an astral lamp, once a week, and the glass chimney oftener. Take the lamp to pieces, and cleanse it, once a month. Keep dry fingers, in trimming lamps. To raise the wick of an astral lamp, turn it to the right; to lower it, turn it to the left. Trim it, after it has been once used; and, in lighting it, raise it to the proper height, as soon as may be, or it will either smoke, or form a crust. Renew the wick, when only an inch and a half long. Close-woven wicks are better than those which are loose. Dipping wicks in vinegar, makes them burn clearer than they otherwise would. Plain shades do not injure the eyes, like cut ones; and prints and pictures appear better by them, than by the others. Lamps should be lighted with a strip of folded or rolled paper, kept on the mantelpiece. Weak eyes should always be shaded from the lights. Small screens, made for the purpose, should be kept at hand. A person with weak eyes, can use them, safely, much longer, when they are shaded from the glare of the light, than if they are not so. Fill the entry-lamp, every day, and cleanse and fill night-lanterns, twice a week, if used often. Provide small, one-wicked lamps, to carry about; and broad-bottomed lamps, for the kitchen, as these are not easily upset. A good night-lamp is made, with a small one-wicked lamp and a roll of tin to set over it. Have some holes made in the bottom of this cover, and it can then be used to heat articles. Very cheap floating tapers, can be bought, to burn in a teacup of oil through the night. Wickyarn, drawn repeatedly through melted wax, till stiff and smooth, makes a good taper, for use in sealing letters. It can be twined in fanciful forms, and kept on the writing-table. _To make Candles._ The nicest candles, are run in moulds. For this purpose, melt together one quarter of a pound of white wax, one quarter of an ounce of camphor, two ounces of alum, and ten ounces of suet or mutton tallow. Soak the wicks, in lime-water and saltpetre, and, when dry, fix them in the moulds, and pour in the melted tallow. Let them remain one night, to cool, then warm them, a little, to loosen them, draw them out, and, when hard, put them in a box, in a dry and cool place. To make dipped candles, cut the wicks of the right length, double them over rods, and twist them. They should first be dipped in lime-water, or vinegar, and dried. Melt the tallow in a large kettle, filling it to the top with hot water, when the tallow is melted. Put in wax, and powdered alum, to harden them. Keep the tallow hot, over a portable furnace, and fill up the kettle, with hot water, as fast as the tallow is used up. Lay two long strips of narrow board, on which to hang the rods; and set flat pans under, on the floor, to catch the grease. Take several rods at once, and wet the wicks in the tallow; and, when cool, straighten and smooth them. Then dip them, as fast as they cool, until they become of the proper size. Plunge them obliquely, and not perpendicularly; and when the bottoms are too large, hold them in the hot grease, till a part melts off. Let them remain one night, to cool; then cut off the bottoms, and keep them in a dry, cool place. Cheap lights are made, by dipping rushes in tallow. CHAPTER XXVI. ON WASHING. There is nothing, which tends more effectually to secure good washing, than a full supply of all conveniences; and among these, none is more important, than an abundance of warm and cold water: but, if this be obtained, and heated, at a great expense of time and labor, it will be used in stinted measure. The accommodations described on page 275, (Fig. 34,) are very convenient in this respect. _Articles to be provided for Washing._ A plenty of soft water is a very important item. When this cannot be had, ley or soda can be put in hard water, to soften it; care being used not to put in so much, as to injure the hands and clothes. Two wash-forms are needed; one for the two tubs in which to put the suds, and the other for blueing and starching-tubs. Four tubs, of different sizes, are necessary; also, a large _wooden_ dipper, (as metal is apt to rust;) two or three pails; a grooved wash-board; a clothes-line, (sea-grass, or horse-hair is best;) a wash-stick to move clothes, when boiling, and a wooden fork to take them out. Soap-dishes, made to hook on the tubs, save soap and time. Provide, also, a clothes-bag, in which to boil clothes; an indigo-bag, of double flannel; a starch-strainer, of coarse linen; a bottle of ox-gall for calicoes; a supply of starch, neither sour nor musty; several dozens of clothes-pins, which are cleft sticks, used to fasten clothes on the line; a bottle of dissolved gum Arabic; two clothes-baskets; and a brass or copper kettle, for boiling clothes, as iron is apt to rust. A closet, for keeping all these things, is a great convenience. It may be made six feet high, three feet deep, and four feet wide. The tubs and pails can be set on the bottom of this, on their sides, one within another. Four feet from the bottom, have a shelf placed, on which to put the basket of clothes-pins, the line, soap-dishes, dipper, and clothes-fork. Above this, have another shelf, for the bottles, boxes, &c. The shelves should reach out only half way from the back, and nails should be put at the sides, for hanging the wash-stick, clothes-bag, starch-bag, and indigo-bag. The ironing-conveniences might be kept in the same closet, by having the lower shelf raised a little, and putting a deep drawer under it, to hold the ironing-sheets, holders, &c. A lock and key should be put on the closet. If the mistress of the family requests the washerwoman to notify her, when she is through, and then ascertains if all these articles are put in their places, it will prove useful. Tubs, pails, and all hooped wooden ware, should be kept out of the sun, and in a cool place, or they will fall to pieces. _Common Mode of Washing._ Assort the clothes, and put them in soak, the night before. Never pour hot water on them, as it sets the dirt. In assorting clothes, put the flannels in one lot, the colored clothes in another, the coarse white ones in a third, and the fine clothes in a fourth lot. Wash the fine clothes in one tub of suds; and throw them, when wrung, into another. Then wash them, in the second suds, turning them wrong side out. Put them in the boiling-bag, and boil them in strong suds, for half an hour, and not much more. Move them, while boiling, with the clothes-stick. Take them out of the boiling-bag, and put them into a tub of water, and rub the dirtiest places, again, if need be. Throw them into the rinsing-water, and then wring them out, and put them into the blueing-water. Put the articles to be stiffened, into a clothes-basket, by themselves, and, just before hanging out, dip them in starch, clapping it in, so as to have them equally stiff, in all parts. Hang white clothes in the sun, and colored ones, (wrong side out,) in the shade. Fasten them with clothes-pins. Then wash the coarser white articles, in the same manner. Then wash the colored clothes. These must not be soaked, nor have ley or soda put in the water, and they ought not to lie wet long before hanging out, as it injures their colors. Beef's-gall, one spoonful to two pailfuls of suds, improves calicoes. Lastly, wash the flannels, in suds as hot as the hand can bear. Never rub on soap, as this shrinks them in spots. Wring them out of the first suds, and throw them into another tub of hot suds, turning them wrong side out. Then throw them into hot blueing-water. Do not put blueing into suds, as it makes specks in the flannel. Never leave flannels long in water, nor put them in cold or lukewarm water. Before hanging them out, shake and stretch them. Some housekeepers have a close closet, made with slats across the top. On these slats, they put their flannels, when ready to hang out, and then burn brimstone under them, for ten minutes. It is but little trouble, and keeps the flannels as white as new. Wash the colored flannels, and hose, after the white, adding more hot water. Some persons dry woollen hose on stocking-boards, shaped like a foot and leg, with strings to tie them on the line. This keeps them from shrinking, and makes them look better than if ironed. It is also less work, than to iron them properly. Bedding should be washed in long days, and in hot weather. Pound blankets in two different tubs or barrels of hot suds, first well mixing the soap and water. Rinse in hot suds; and, after wringing, let two persons shake them thoroughly, and then hang them out. If not dry, at night, fold them, and hang them out the next morning. Bedquilts should be pounded in warm suds; and, after rinsing, be wrung as dry as possible. Bolsters and pillows can be pounded in hot suds, without taking out the feathers, rinsing them in fair water. It is usually best, however, for nice feathers, to take them out, wash them, and dry them on a garret floor. Cotton comforters should have the cases taken off and washed. Wash bedticks, after the feathers are removed, like other things. Empty straw beds once a year. The following cautions, in regard to calicoes, are useful. Never wash them in very warm water; and change the water, when it appears dingy, or the light parts will look dirty. Never rub on soap; but remove grease with French chalk, starch, magnesia, or Wilmington clay. Make starch for them, with coffee-water, to prevent any whitish appearance. Glue is good for stiffening calicoes. When laid aside, not to be used, all stiffening should be washed out, or they will often be injured. Never let calicoes freeze, in drying. Some persons use bran-water, (four quarts of wheat-bran to two pails of water,) and no soap, for calicoes; washing and rinsing in the bran-water. Potato-water is equally good. Take eight peeled and grated potatoes to one gallon of water. _Soda-Washing._ A very great saving in labor is secured, by _soda-washing_. There have been mistakes made in receipts, and in modes of doing it, which have caused a prejudice against it; but if the soap be rightly made, and rightly used, _it certainly saves one half the labor and time of ordinary washing_. _Receipt for Soda-Soap._ Take eight pounds of bar-soap, eight pounds of coarse soda, (the sub-carbonate,) ten gallons of soft water, boiled two hours, stirring it often. This is to be cooled, and set away for use. In washing, take a pound of this soap, to the largest pail of water, and heat till it boils. Having previously soaked the white clothes, in _warm_, not _hot_, water, put them in this boiling mixture, and let them boil _one hour and no more_. Take them out, draining them well, and put them in a tub, half full of soft water. Turn them wrong side out; rub the soiled places, till they look clean; then put them into blue rinsing-water, and wring them out. They are then ready to hang out. Some persons use another rinsing-water. The colored clothes and flannels must not be washed in this way. The fine clothes may be first boiled in this water; it may then be used for coarser clothes; and afterward, the brown towels, and other articles of that nature, may be boiled in the same water. After this, the water which remains, is still useful, for washing floors; and then, the suds is a good manure to put around plants. It is best to prepare, at once, the whole quantity of water to be used. Take out about one third, and set it by; and every time a fresh supply of clothes is put in, use a portion of this, to supply the waste of a former boiling. _Modes of Washing Various Articles._ _Brown Linens_, or _Muslins_, of tea, drab, or olive, colors, look best, washed in hay-water. Put in hay enough, to color the water like new brown linen. Wash them first in lukewarm, fair water, without soap, (removing grease with French chalk,) then wash and rinse them in the hay-water. _Nankeens_ look best, washed in suds, with a teacup of ley added for each pailful. Iron on the wrong side. Soak new nankeens in ley, for one night, and it sets the color perfectly. _Woollen Table-Covers_ and _Woollen Shawls_, may be washed thus: Remove grease as before directed. If there be stains in the articles, take them out with spirits of hartshorn. Wash the things in two portions of hot suds, made of white soap. Do not wring them, but fold them and press the water out, catching it in a tub, under a table. Shake, stretch, and dry, neither by the sun nor a fire, and do not let them freeze, in drying. Sprinkle them three hours before ironing, and fold and roll them tight. Iron them heavily on the wrong side. _Woollen yarn_, should be washed in very hot water, putting in a teacupful of ley, and no soap, to half a pailful of water. Rinse till the water comes off clear. _New Black Worsted and Woollen Hose_, should be soaked all night, and washed in hot suds, with beef's-gall, a tablespoonful to half a pail of water. Rinse till no color comes out. Iron on the wrong side. _To Cleanse Gentlemen's Broadcloths._ The common mode, is, to shake, and brush the articles, and rip out linings and pockets; then to wash them in strong suds, adding a teacupful of ley, using white soap for light cloth; rolling and then pressing, instead of wringing, them; when dry, sprinkling them, and letting them lie all night; and ironing on the wrong side, or with a thin dark cloth over the article, until _perfectly_ dry. But a far better way, which the writer has repeatedly tried, with unfailing success, is the following: Take one beef's-gall, half a pound of salæratus, and four gallons of warm water. Lay the article on a table, and scour it thoroughly, in every part, with a clothes-brush, dipped in this mixture. The collar of a coat, and the grease-spots, (previously marked by stitches of white thread,) must be repeatedly brushed. Then, take the article, and rinse it up and down in the mixture. Then, rinse it up and down in a tub of soft cold water. Then, without wringing or pressing, hang it to drain and dry. Fasten a coat up by the collar. When perfectly dry, it is sometimes the case, with coats, that nothing more is needed. In other cases, it is necessary to dampen the parts, which look wrinkled, with a sponge, and either pull them smooth, with the fingers, or press them with an iron, having a piece of bombazine, or thin woollen cloth, between the iron and the article. _To manufacture Ley, Soap, Starch, and other Articles used in Washing._ _To make Ley._ Provide a large tub, made of pine or ash, and set it on a form, so high, that a tub can stand under it. Make a hole, an inch in diameter, near the bottom, on one side. Lay bricks, inside, about this hole, and straw over them. To every seven bushels of ashes, add two gallons of unslacked lime, and throw in the ashes and lime in alternate layers. While putting in the ashes and lime, pour on boiling water, using three or four pailfuls. After this, add a pailful of cold soft water, once an hour, till all the ashes appear to be well soaked. Catch the drippings, in a tub, and try its strength with an egg. If the egg rise so as to show a circle as large as a ten cent piece, the strength is right; if it rise higher, the ley must be weakened by water; if not so high, the ashes are not good, and the whole process must be repeated, putting in fresh ashes, and running the weak ley through the new ashes, with some additional water. _Quick-ley_ is made by pouring one gallon of boiling soft water on three quarts of ashes, and straining it. Oak ashes are best. _To make Soft-Soap._ Save all drippings and fat, melt them, and set them away, in cakes. Some persons keep, for soap-grease, a half barrel, with weak ley in it, and a cover over it. To make soft-soap, take the proportion of one pailful of ley to three pounds of fat. Melt the fat, and pour in the ley, by degrees. Boil it steadily, through the day, till it is ropy. If not boiled enough, on cooling, it will turn to ley and sediment. While boiling, there should always be a little oil on the surface. If this does not appear, add more grease. If there is too much grease, on cooling, it will rise, and can be skimmed off. Try it, by cooling a small quantity. When it appears like gelly, on becoming cold, it is done. It must then be put in a cool place and often stirred. _To make cold Soft-Soap_, melt thirty pounds of grease, put it in a barrel, add four pailfuls of strong ley, and stir it up thoroughly. Then gradually add more ley, till the barrel is nearly full, and the soap looks _about right_. _To make Potash-Soap_, melt thirty-nine pounds of grease, and put it in a barrel. Take twenty-nine pounds of light ash-colored potash, (the _reddish_-colored will spoil the soap,) and pour hot water on it; then pour it off into the grease, stirring it well. Continue thus, till all the potash is melted. Add one pailful of cold water, stirring it a great deal, every day, till the barrel be full, and then it is done. This is the cheapest and best kind of soap. It is best to sell ashes and buy potash. The soap is better, if it stand a year before it is used; therefore make two barrels at once. _To make Hard White Soap_, take fifteen pounds of lard, or suet; and, when boiling, add, slowly, five gallons of ley, mixed with one gallon of water. Cool a small portion; and, if no grease rise, it is done: if grease do rise, add ley, and boil till no grease rises. Then add three quarts of fine salt, and boil it; if this do not harden well, on cooling, add more salt. Cool it, and if it is to be perfumed, melt it next day, put in the perfume, and then run it in moulds, or cut it in cakes. _Common Hard Soap_, is made in the same way, by using common fat. _To manufacture Starch_, cleanse a peck of unground wheat, and soak it, for several days, in soft water. When quite soft, remove the husks, with the hand, and the soft parts will settle. Pour off the water, and replace it, every day, with that which is fresh, stirring it well. When, after stirring and settling, the water is clear, it is done. Then strain off the water, and dry the starch, for several days, in the sun. If the water be permitted to remain too long, it sours, and the starch is poor. If the starch be not well dried, it grows musty. CHAPTER XXVII. ON STARCHING, IRONING, AND CLEANSING. _To prepare Starch._ Take four tablespoonfuls of starch; put in as much water; and rub it, till all lumps are removed. Then, add half a cup of cold water. Pour this into a quart of boiling water, and boil it for half an hour, adding a piece of spermaceti, or a lump of salt, or sugar, as large as a hazelnut. Strain it, and put in a very little blueing. Thin it with hot water. _Glue and Gum-Starch._ Put a piece of glue, four inches square, into three quarts of water, boil it, and keep it in a bottle, corked up. Dissolve four ounces of gum Arabic, in a quart of hot water, and set it away, in a bottle, corked. Use the glue for calicoes, and the gum for silks and muslins, both to be mixed with water, at discretion. _Beef's-Gall._ Send a junk-bottle to the butcher, and have several gall-bladders emptied into it. Keep it salted, and in a cool place. Some persons perfume it; but fresh air removes the unpleasant smell which it gives, when used for clothes. _Directions for Starching Muslins and Laces._ Many ladies clap muslins, then dry them, and afterwards sprinkle them. This saves time. Others clap them, till nearly dry, then fold and cover, and then iron them. Iron wrought muslins on soft flannel, and on the wrong side. _To do up Laces, nicely_, sew a clean piece of muslin around a long bottle, and roll the lace on it; pulling out the edge, and rolling it so that the edge will turn in, and be covered, as you roll. Fill the bottle with water, and then boil it, for an hour, in a suds made with white soap. Rinse it in fair water, a little blued; dry it in the sun; and, if any stiffening is wished, use thin starch, or gum Arabic. When dry, fold and press it, between white papers, in a large book. It improves the lace, to wet it with sweet-oil, after it is rolled on the bottle, and before boiling in the suds. _Blond laces_ can be whitened, by rolling them on a bottle, in this way, and then setting the bottle in the sun, in a dish of cold suds made with white soap, wetting it thoroughly, and changing the suds, every day. Do this, for a week or more; then rinse, in fair water; dry it on the bottle, in the sun; and stiffen it with white gum Arabic. Lay it away in loose folds. _Lace veils_ can be whitened, by laying them in flat dishes, in suds made with white soap; then rinsing, and stiffening them with gum Arabic, stretching them, and pinning them on a sheet, to dry. ON IRONING. _Articles to be provided for Ironing._ A settee, or settle, made so that it can be used for an ironing-table, is a great convenience. It may be made of pine, and of the following dimensions: length, five feet and six inches; width of the seat, one foot and nine inches; height of the seat, one foot and three inches; height of the sides, (or arms of the seat,) two feet and four inches; height of the back, five feet and three inches. The back should be made with hinges, of the height of the sides or arms, so that it can be turned down, and rest on them, and thus become an ironing-table. The back is to be fastened up, behind, with long iron hooks and staples. The seat should be made with two lids, opening into two boxes, or partitions, in one of which, can be kept the ironing-sheets and holders, and in the other, the other articles used in ironing. It can be stained of a cherry-color; put on casters, so as to move easily; and be provided with two cushions, stuffed with hay and covered with dark woollen. It thus serves as a comfortable seat, for Winter, protecting the back from cold. Where a settee, of this description, is not provided, a large ironing-board, made so as not to warp, should be kept, and used only for this purpose, to be laid, when used, on a table. Provide, also, the following articles: A woollen ironing-blanket, and a linen or cotton sheet, to spread over it; a large fire, of charcoal and hard wood, (unless furnaces or stoves are used;) a hearth, free from cinders and ashes, a piece of sheet-iron, in front of the fire, on which to set the irons, while heating; (this last saves many black spots from careless ironers;) three or four holders, made of woollen, and covered with old silk, as these do not easily take fire; two iron rings, or iron-stands, on which to set the irons, and small pieces of board to put under them, to prevent scorching the sheet; linen or cotton wipers; and a piece of beeswax, to rub on the irons when they are smoked. There should be, at least, three irons for each person ironing, and a small and large clothes-frame, on which to air the fine and coarse clothes. A bosom-board, on which to iron shirt-bosoms, should be made, one foot and a half long, and nine inches wide, and covered with white flannel. A skirt-board on which to iron frock-skirts, should be made, five feet long, and two feet wide at one end, tapering to one foot and three inches wide, at the other end. This should be covered with flannel; and will save much trouble, in ironing nice dresses. The large end may be put on the table, and the other, on the back of a chair. Both these boards should have cotton covers, made to fit them; and these should be changed and washed, when dirty. These boards are often useful, when articles are to be ironed or pressed, in a chamber or parlor. Provide, also, a press-board, for broadcloth, two feet long, and four inches wide at one end, tapering to three inches wide, at the other. A fluting-iron, called, also, a patent Italian iron, saves much labor, in ironing ruffles neatly. A crimping-iron, will crimp ruffles beautifully, with very little time or trouble. Care must be used, with the latter, or it will cut the ruffles. A trial should be made, with old muslins; and, when the iron is screwed in the right place, it must be so kept, and not altered without leave from the housekeeper. If the lady of the house will provide all these articles, see that the fires are properly made, the ironing-sheets evenly put on and properly pinned, the clothes-frames dusted, and all articles kept in their places, she will do much towards securing good ironing. _On Sprinkling, Folding, and Ironing._ Wipe the dust from the ironing-board, and lay it down, to receive the clothes, which should be sprinkled with clear water, and laid in separate piles, one of colored, one of common, and one of fine articles, and one of flannels. Fold the fine things, and roll them in a towel, and then fold the rest, turning them all right side outward. The colored clothes should be laid separate from the rest, and ought not to lie long damp, as it injures the colors. The sheets and table linen should be shaken, stretched, and folded, by two persons. Iron lace and needlework on the wrong side, and carry them away, as soon as dry. Iron calicoes with irons which are not very hot, and generally on the right side, as they thus keep clean for a longer time. In ironing a frock, first do the waist, then the sleeves, then the skirt. Keep the skirt rolled, while ironing the other parts, and set a chair, to hold the sleeves, while ironing the skirt, unless a skirt-board be used. In ironing a shirt, first do the back, then the sleeves, then the collar and bosom, and then the front. Iron silk on the wrong side, when quite damp, with an iron which is not very hot. Light colors are apt to change and fade. Iron velvet, by turning up the face of the iron, and after dampening the wrong side of the velvet, draw it over the face of the iron, holding it straight, and not biased. CHAPTER XXVIII. ON WHITENING, CLEANSING, AND DYEING. _To Whiten Articles, and Remove Stains from them._ Wet white clothes in suds, and lay them on the grass, in the sun. Lay muslins in suds made with white soap, in a flat dish; set this in the sun, changing the suds, every day. Whiten tow-cloth, or brown linen, by keeping it in ley, through the night, laying it out in the sun, and wetting it with fair water, as fast as it dries. Scorched articles can often be whitened again, by laying them in the sun, wet with suds. Where this does not answer, put a pound of white soap in a gallon of milk, and boil the article in it. Another method, is, to chop and extract the juice from two onions, and boil this with half a pint of vinegar, an ounce of white soap, and two ounces of fuller's earth. Spread this, when cool, on the scorched part, and, when dry, wash it off, in fair water. _Mildew_ may be removed, by dipping the article in sour buttermilk, laying it in the sun, and, after it is white, rinsing it in fair water. Soap and chalk are also good; also, soap and starch, adding half as much salt as there is starch, together with the juice of a lemon. Stains in linen can often be removed, by rubbing on soft soap, then putting on a starch paste, and drying in the sun, renewing it several times. Wash off all the soap and starch, in cold, fair water. _Mixtures for Removing Stains and Grease._ _Stain-Mixture._ Half an ounce of oxalic acid, in a pint of soft water. This can be kept in a corked bottle, and is infallible in removing iron-rust, and ink-stains. It is very poisonous. The article must be spread with this mixture over the steam of hot water, and wet several times. This will also remove indelible ink. The article must be washed, or the mixture will injure it. _Another Stain-Mixture_ is made, by mixing one ounce of sal ammoniac, one ounce of salt of tartar, and one pint of soft water. _To remove Grease._ Mix four ounces of fuller's earth, half an ounce of pearlash, and lemon-juice enough to make a stiff paste, which can be dried in balls, and kept for use. Wet the greased spot with cold water, rub it with the ball, dry it, and then rinse it with fair cold water. This is for _white_ articles. For silks, and worsteds, use French chalk, which can be procured of the apothecaries. That which is soft and white, is best. Scrape it on the greased spot, and let it lie for a day and night. Then renew it, till the spot disappears. Wilmington clay-balls, are equally good. Ink-spots can often be removed from white clothes, by rubbing on common tallow, leaving it for a day or two, and then washing, as usual. Grease can be taken out of wall-paper, by making a paste of potter's clay, water and ox-gall, and spreading it on the paper. When dry, renew it, till the spot disappears. Stains on floors, from _soot_, or _stove-pipes_, can be removed, by washing the spot in sulphuric acid and water. Stains, in colored silk dresses, can often be removed, by pure water. Those made by acids, tea, wine, and fruits, can often be removed, by spirits of hartshorn, diluted with an equal quantity of water. Sometimes, it must be repeated, several times. _Tar_, _Pitch_, and _Turpentine_, can be removed, by putting the spot in sweet-oil, or by spreading tallow on it, and letting it remain for twenty-four hours. Then, if the article be linen or cotton, wash it, as usual; if it be silk or worsted, rub it with ether, or spirits of wine. _Lamp-Oil_ can be removed, from floors, carpets, and other articles, by spreading upon the stain a paste, made of fuller's earth or potter's clay, and renewing it, when dry, till the stain is removed. If gall be put into the paste, it will preserve the colors from injury. When the stain has been removed, carefully brush off the paste, with a soft brush. _Oil-Paint_ can be removed, by rubbing it with _very pure_ spirits of turpentine. The impure spirit leaves a grease-spot. _Wax_ can be removed, by scraping it off, and then holding a red-hot poker near the spot. _Spermaceti_ may be removed by scraping it off, then putting a paper over the spot, and applying a warm iron. If this does not answer, rub on spirits of wine. _Ink-Stains_, in carpets and woollen table-covers, can be removed, by washing the spot in a liquid, composed of one teaspoonful of oxalic acid dissolved in a teacupful of warm (not hot) water, and then rinsing in cold water. _Stains on Varnished Articles_, which are caused by cups of hot water, can be removed, by rubbing them with lamp-oil, and then with alcohol. Ink-stains can be taken out of mahogany, by one teaspoonful of oil of vitriol mixed with one tablespoonful of water, or by oxalic acid and water. These must be brushed over quickly, and then washed off with milk. _Modes of Cleansing Various Articles._ _Silk Handkerchiefs_ and _Ribands_ can be cleansed, by using French chalk to take out the grease, and then sponging them, on both sides, with lukewarm fair water. Stiffen them with gum Arabic, and press them between white paper, with an iron not very hot. A tablespoonful of spirits of wine to three quarts of water, improves it. _Silk Hose_, or _Silk Gloves_, should be washed in warm suds made with white soap, and rinsed in cold water; they should then be stretched and rubbed, with a hard-rolled flannel, till they are quite dry. Ironing them, very much injures their looks. _Washleather_ articles should have the grease removed from them, by French chalk, or magnesia; they should then be washed in warm suds, and rinsed in cold water. _White Kid Gloves_ should have the grease removed from them, as above directed. They should then be brushed, with a soft brush, and a mixture of fuller's earth and magnesia. In an hour after, rub them with flannel, dipped in bran and powdered whiting. _Colored or Hoskin's gloves_ can be cleansed, very nicely, by _pure_ spirits of turpentine, put on with a woollen cloth, and rubbed from wrist to fingers. Hang them for several days in the air, and all the unpleasant smell will be removed. _Gentlemen's white gloves_ should be washed with a sponge, in white-soapsuds; then wiped, and dried on the hands. _Swan's-down tippets, and capes_, should be washed in white-soapsuds, squeezing, and not rubbing them; then rinse them in two waters, and shake and stretch them while drying. _Ostrich feathers_ can also be thus washed. Stiffen them, with starch, wet in cold water and not boiled. Shake them in the air, till nearly dry, then hold them before the fire, and curl them with dull scissors, giving each fibre a twitch, turning it inward, and holding it so for a moment. _Straw and Leghorn Hats_, can be cleansed, by simply washing them in white-soapsuds. Remove grease, by French chalk, and stains, by diluted oxalic acid, or cream of tartar. The oxalic acid is best, but must be instantly washed off. _To whiten them_, drive nails in a barrel, near its bottom, so that cords can be stretched across. On these cords, tie the bonnet, wet with suds, (having first removed the grease, stains, and dirt.) Then invert the barrel, over a dish of coals, on which roll brimstone is slowly burning. Put a chip under one side of the barrel, to admit the air. Continue this, till the bonnet is white; then hang it in the air, (when the weather is not damp,) till the smell is removed. Then stiffen it with a solution of isinglass or gum Arabic, put on the inside, with a sponge. Press the crown, on a block, and the rest on a board, on the right side, putting muslin between the iron and straw, and pressing hard. Be careful not to make it too stiff. First, stiffen a small piece, for trial. ON COLORING. _Precautions and Preparations._ All the articles must be entirely free from grease or oil, and also, in most cases, from soapsuds. Make light dyes in brass, and dark ones in iron, vessels. Always wet the articles, in fair water, before dyeing. Always carefully strain the dye. If the color be too light, dry and then dip the article again. Stir the article well in the dye, lifting it up often. Remove any previous color, by boiling in suds, or, what is better, in the soda mixture used for washing. _Pink Dye._ Buy a saucer of carmine, at an apothecary's. With it, you will find directions for its use. This is cheap, easy to use, and beautiful. _Balm blossoms_ and _Bergamot blossoms_, with a little cream of tartar in the water, make a pretty pink. _Red Dye._ Take half a pound of wheat bran, three ounces of powdered alum, and two gallons of soft water. Boil these in a brass vessel, and add an ounce of cream of tartar, and an ounce of cochineal, tied up together in a bag. Boil the mixture for fifteen minutes, then strain it, and dip the articles. Brazil wood, set with alum, makes another red dye. _Yellow Dye._ Fustic, turmeric powder, saffron, barberry-bush, peach-leaves, or marigold flowers, make a yellow dye. Set the dye with alum, putting a piece the size of a large hazelnut to each quart of water. _Light Blue Dye_, for silks and woollens, is made with the 'blue composition,' to be procured of the hat-makers; fifteen drops to a quart of water. Articles dipped in this, must be thoroughly rinsed. For a _dark blue_, boil four ounces of copperas in two gallons of water. Dip the articles in this, and then in a strong decoction of logwood, boiled and strained. Then wash them thoroughly in soapsuds. _Green Dye._ First color the article yellow; and then, if it be silk or woollen, dip it in 'blue composition.' Instead of ironing, rub it with flannel, while drying. _Salmon Color_ is made by boiling arnotto or anotta in soapsuds. _Buff Color_ is made by putting one teacupful of potash, tied in a bag, in two gallons of hot (not boiling) water, and adding an ounce of arnotto, also in a bag, keeping it in for half an hour. First, wet the article in strong potash-water. Dry and then rinse in soapsuds. Birch bark and alum also make a buff. Black alder, set with ley, makes an orange color. _Dove and Slate Colors_, of all shades, are made by boiling, in an iron vessel, a teacupful of black tea, with a teaspoonful of copperas. Dilute this, till you get the shade wanted. Purple sugar-paper, boiled, and set with alum, makes a similar color. _Brown Dye._ Boil half a pound of camwood (in a bag) in two gallons of water, for fifteen minutes. Wet the articles, and boil them for a few minutes in the dye. White-walnut bark, the bark of sour sumach, or of white maple, set with alum, make a brown color. _Black Dye._ Let one pound of chopped logwood remain all night in one gallon of vinegar. Then boil them, and put in a piece of copperas, as large as a hen's egg. Wet the articles in warm water, and put them in the dye, boiling and stirring them for fifteen minutes. Dry them, then wet them in warm water, and dip them again. Repeat the process, till the articles are black enough. Wash them in suds, and rinse them till the water comes off clear. Iron nails, boiled in vinegar, make a black dye, which is good for restoring rusty black silks. _Olive Color._ Boil fustic and yellow-oak bark together. The more fustic, the brighter the olive; the more oak bark, the darker the shade. Set the light shade with a few drops of oil of vitriol, and the dark shade with copperas. CHAPTER XXIX. ON THE CARE OF PARLORS. In selecting the furniture of parlors, some reference should be had to correspondence of shades and colors. Curtains should be darker than the walls; and, if the walls and carpets be light, the chairs should be dark, and _vice versa_. Pictures always look best on light walls. In selecting carpets, for rooms much used, it is poor economy to buy cheap ones. _Ingrain_ carpets, of close texture, and the _three-ply_ carpets, are best for common use. _Brussels_ carpets do not wear so long as the three-ply ones, because they cannot be turned. _Wilton_ carpets wear badly, and _Venetians_ are good only for halls and stairs. In selecting colors, avoid those in which there are any black threads; as they are always rotten. The most tasteful carpets, are those, which are made of various shades of the same color, or of all shades of only two colors; such as brown and yellow, or blue and buff, or salmon and green, or all shades of green, or of brown. All very dark shades should be brown or green, but not black. In laying down carpets, it is a bad practice to put straw under them, as this makes them wear out in spots. Straw matting, laid under carpets, makes them last much longer, as it is smooth and even, and the dust sifts through it. In buying carpets, always get a few yards over, to allow for waste in matching figures. In cutting carpets, make them three or four inches shorter than the room, to allow for stretching. Begin to cut _in the middle_ of a figure, and it will usually match better. Many carpets match in two different ways, and care must be taken to get the right one. Sew a carpet on the wrong side, with double waxed thread, and with the _ball-stitch_. This is done by taking a stitch on the breadth next you, pointing the needle towards you; and then taking a stitch on the other breadth, pointing the needle from you. Draw the thread tightly, but not so as to pucker. In fitting a breadth to the hearth, cut slits in the right place, and turn the piece under. Bind _the whole_ of the carpet, with carpet-binding, nail it with tacks, having bits of leather under the heads. To stretch the carpet, use a carpet-fork, which is a long stick, ending with notched tin, like saw-teeth. This is put in the edge of the carpet, and pushed by one person, while the nail is driven by another. Cover blocks, or bricks, with carpeting, like that of the room, and put them behind tables, doors, sofas, &c., to preserve the walls from injury, by knocking, or by the dusting-cloth. Cheap footstools, made of a square plank, covered with tow-cloth, stuffed, and then covered with carpeting, with worsted handles, look very well. Sweep carpets as seldom as possible, as it wears them out. To shake them often, is good economy. In cleaning carpets, use damp tea leaves, or wet Indian meal, throwing it about, and rubbing it over with the broom. The latter, is very good for cleansing carpets made dingy by coal-dust. In brushing carpets in ordinary use, it will be found very convenient to use a large flat dust-pan, with a perpendicular handle a yard high, put on so that the pan will stand alone. This can be carried about, and used without stooping, brushing dust into it with a common broom. The pan must be very large, or it will be upset. When carpets are taken up, they should be hung on a line, or laid on long grass, and whipped, first on one side, and then on the other, with pliant whips. If laid aside, they should be sewed up tight, in linen, having snuff or tobacco put along all the crevices where moths could enter. Shaking pepper, from a pepper-box, round the edge of the floor, under a carpet, prevents the access of moths. Carpets can be best washed on the floor, thus: First shake them; and then, after cleaning the floor, stretch and nail them upon it. Then scrub them in cold soapsuds, having half a teacupful of ox-gall to a bucket of water. Then wash off the suds, with a cloth, in fair water. Set open the doors and windows, for two days or more. Imperial Brussels, Venetian, ingrain, and three-ply, carpets, can be washed thus; but Wilton, and other plush-carpets, cannot. Before washing them, take out grease, with a paste, made of potter's clay, ox-gall, and water. Straw matting is best for chambers and Summer parlors. The checked, of two colors, is not so good to wear. The best, is the cheapest in the end. When washed, it should be done with salt water, wiping it dry; but frequent washing injures it. Bind matting with cotton binding. Sew breadths together like carpeting. In joining the ends of pieces, ravel out a part, and tie the threads together, turning under a little of each piece, and then, laying the ends close, nail them down, with nails having kid under their heads. In hanging pictures, put them so that the lower part shall be opposite the eye. Cleanse the glass of pictures with whiting, as water endangers the pictures. Gilt frames can be much better preserved by putting on a coat of copal varnish, which, with proper brushes, can be bought of carriage or cabinet-makers. When dry, it can be washed with fair water. Wash the brush in spirits of turpentine. Curtains, ottomans, and sofas covered with worsted, can be cleansed, by wheat-bran, rubbed on with flannel. Dust Venetian blinds with feather brushes. Buy light-colored ones, as the green are going out of fashion. Strips of linen or cotton, on rollers and pulleys, are much in use, to shut out the sun from curtains and carpets. Paper curtains, pasted on old cotton, are good for chambers. Put them on rollers, having cords nailed to them, so that when the curtain falls, the cord will be wound up. Then, by pulling the cord, the curtain will be rolled up. Mahogany furniture should be made in the Spring, and stand some months before it is used, or it will shrink and warp. Varnished furniture should be rubbed only with silk, except occasionally, when a little sweet-oil should be rubbed over, and wiped off carefully. For unvarnished furniture, use beeswax, a little softened with sweet-oil; rub it in with a hard brush, and polish with woollen and silk rags. Some persons rub in linseed-oil; others mix beeswax with a little spirits of turpentine and rosin, making it so that it can be put on with a sponge, and wiped off with a soft rag. Others, keep in a bottle the following mixture; two ounces of spirits of turpentine, four tablespoonfuls of sweet-oil, and one quart of milk. This is applied with a sponge, and wiped off with a linen rag. Hearths and jambs, of brick, look best painted over with blacklead, mixed with soft-soap. Wash the bricks which are nearest the fire with redding and milk, using a painter's brush. A sheet of zinc, covering the whole hearth, is cheap, saves work, and looks very well. A tinman can fit it properly. Stone hearths should be rubbed with a paste of powdered stone, (to be procured of the stonecutters,) and then brushed with a stiff brush. Kitchen-hearths, of stone, are improved by rubbing in lamp-oil. Stains can be removed from marble, by oxalic acid and water, or oil of vitriol and water, left on fifteen minutes, and then rubbed dry. Gray marble is improved by linseed-oil. Grease can be taken from marble, by ox-gall and potter's clay wet with soapsuds, (a gill of each.) It is better to add, also, a gill of spirits of turpentine. It improves the looks of marble, to cover it with this mixture, leaving it two days, and then rubbing it off. Unless a parlor is in constant use, it is best to sweep it only once a week, and at other times use a whisk-broom and dust-pan. When a parlor with handsome furniture is to be swept, cover the sofas, centre table, piano, books, and mantelpiece, with old cottons, kept for the purpose. Remove the rugs, and shake them, and clean the jambs, hearth, and fire-furniture. Then sweep the room, moving every article. Dust the furniture, with a dust-brush and a piece of old silk. A painter's brush should be kept, to remove dust from ledges and crevices. The dust-cloths should be often shaken and washed, or else they will soil the walls and furniture when they are used. Dust ornaments, and fine books, with feather brushes, kept for the purpose. CHAPTER XXX. ON THE CARE OF BREAKFAST AND DINING-ROOMS. An eating-room should have in it a large closet, with drawers and shelves, in which should be kept all the articles used at meals. This, if possible, should communicate with the kitchen, by a sliding window, or by a door, and have in it a window, and also a small sink, made of marble or lined with zinc, which will be a great convenience for washing nice articles. If there be a dumb-waiter, it is best to have it connected with such a closet. It may be so contrived, that, when it is down, it shall form part of the closet floor. A table-rug, or crumb-cloth, is useful to save carpets from injury. Bocking, or baize, is best. Always spread the same side up, or the carpet will be soiled by the rug. Table-mats are needful, to prevent injury to the table from the warm dishes. Teacup-mats, or small plates, are useful to save the table-cloths from dripping tea or coffee. Butter-knives, for the butter-plate, and salt-spoons, for salt-dishes, are designed to prevent those disgusting marks which are made, when persons use their own knives, to take salt or butter. A sugar-spoon should be kept in or by the sugar-dish, for the same purpose. Table-napkins, of diaper, are often laid by each person's plate, for use during the meal, to save the tablecloth and pocket-handkerchief. To preserve the same napkin for the same person, each member of the family has a given number, and the napkins are numbered to correspond, or else are slipped into ivory rings, which are numbered. A stranger has a clean one, at each meal. Tablecloths should be well starched, and ironed on the right side, and always, when taken off, folded in the ironed creases. _Doilies_ are colored napkins, which, when fruit is offered, should always be furnished, to prevent a person from staining a nice handkerchief, or permitting the fruit-juice to dry on the fingers. Casters and salt-stands should be put in order, every morning, when washing the breakfast things. Always, if possible, provide _fine_ and _dry_ table-salt, as many persons are much disgusted with that which is dark, damp, and coarse. Be careful to keep salad-oil closely corked, or it will grow rancid. Never leave the salt-spoons in the salt, nor the mustard-spoon in the mustard, as they are thereby injured. Wipe them, immediately after the meal. For table-furniture, French china is deemed the nicest, but it is liable to the objection of having plates, so made, that salt, butter, and similar articles, will not lodge on the edge, but slip into the centre. Select knives and forks, which have weights in the handles, so that, when laid down, they will not touch the table. Those with rivetted handles last longer than any others. Horn handles (except buckhorn) are very poor. The best are cheapest in the end. Knives should be sharpened once a month, unless they are kept sharp by the mode of scouring. _On Setting Tables._ Neat housekeepers observe the manner in which a table is set more than any thing else; and to a person of good taste, few things are more annoying, than to see the table placed askew; the tablecloth soiled, rumpled, and put on awry; the plates, knives, and dishes thrown about, without any order; the pitchers soiled on the outside, and sometimes within; the tumblers dim; the caster out of order; the butter pitched on the plate, without any symmetry; the salt coarse, damp, and dark; the bread cut in a mixture of junks and slices; the dishes of food set on at random, and without mats; the knives dark or rusty, and their handles greasy; the tea-furniture all out of order, and every thing in similar style. And yet, many of these negligences will be met with, at the tables of persons who call themselves well bred, and who have wealth enough to make much outside show. One reason for this, is, the great difficulty of finding domestics, who will attend to these things in a proper manner, and who, after they have been repeatedly instructed, will not neglect nor forget what has been said to them. The writer has known cases, where much has been gained by placing the following rules in plain sight, in the place where the articles for setting tables are kept. _Rules for setting a Table._ 1. Lay the rug square with the room, and also smooth and even; then set the table also square with the room, and see that the _legs_ are in the right position to support the leaves. 2. Lay the tablecloth square with the table, _right side up_, smooth, and even. 3. Put on the teatray (for breakfast or tea) square with the table; set the cups and saucers at the front side of the teatray, and the sugar, slop-bowls, and cream-cup, at the back side. Lay the sugar-spoon or tongs on the sugar-bowl. 4. Lay the plates around the table, at equal intervals, and the knives and forks at regular distances, each in the same particular manner, with a cup-mat, or cup-plate, to each, and a napkin at the right side of each person. 5. If meat be used, set the caster and salt-cellars in the centre of the table; then lay mats for the dishes, and place the carving-knife and fork and steel by the master of the house. Set the butter on two plates, one on either side, with a butter-knife by each. 6. Set the tea or coffee-pot on a mat, at the right hand of the teatray, (if there be not room upon it.) Then place the chairs around the table, and call the family. _For Dinner._ 1. Place the rug, table, tablecloth, plates, knives and forks, and napkins, as before directed, with a tumbler by each plate. In cold weather, set the plates where they will be warmed. 2. Put the caster in the centre, and the salt-stands at two oblique corners, of the table, the latter between two large spoons crossed. If more spoons be needed, lay them on each side of the caster, crossed. Set the pitcher on a mat, either at a side-table, or, when there is no waiter, on the dining-table. Water looks best in glass decanters. 3. Set the bread on the table, when there is no waiter. Some take a fork, and lay a piece on the napkin or tumbler by each plate. Others keep it in a tray, covered with a white napkin to keep off flies. Bread for dinner is often cut in small junks, and not in slices. 4. Set the principal dish before the master of the house, and the other dishes in a regular manner. Put the carving-knife, fork, and steel, by the principal dish, and also a knife-rest, if one be used. 5. Put a small knife and fork by the pickles, and also by any other dishes which need them. Then place the chairs. _On Waiting at Table._ A domestic, who waits on the table, should be required to keep the hair and hands in neat order, and have on a clean apron. A small teatray should be used to carry cups and plates. The waiter should announce the meal (when ready) to the mistress of the family, then stand by the eating-room door, till all are in, then close the door, and step to the left side of the lady of the house. When all are seated, the waiter should remove the covers, taking care first to invert them, so as not to drop the steam on the tablecloth or guests. In presenting articles, go to the left side of the person. In pouring water never entirely fill the tumbler. The waiter should notice when bread or water is wanting, and hand it without being called. When plates are changed, be careful not to drop knives or forks. Brush off crumbs, with a crumb-brush, into a small waiter. When there is no domestic waiter, a light table should be set at the left side of the mistress of the house, on which the bread, water, and other articles not in immediate use, can be placed. _On Carving and Helping at Table._ It is considered an accomplishment for a lady to know how to carve well, at her own table. It is not proper to stand in carving. The carving-knife should be sharp and thin. To carve fowls, (which should always be laid with the breast uppermost,) place the fork in the breast, and take off the wings and legs without turning the fowl; then cut out the merry thought, cut slices from the breast, take out the collar bone, cut off the side pieces, and then cut the carcass in two. Divide the joints in the leg of a turkey. In helping the guests, when no choice is expressed, give a piece of both the white and dark meat, with some of the stuffing. Inquire whether the guest will be helped to each kind of vegetable, and put the gravy on the plate, and not on any article of food. In carving a sirloin, cut thin slices from the side next to you, (it must be put on the dish with the tenderloin underneath;) then turn it, and cut from the tenderloin Help the guest to both kinds. In carving a leg of mutton, or a ham, begin by cutting across the middle, to the bone. Cut a tongue across, and not lengthwise, and help from the middle part. Carve a forequarter of lamb, by separating the shoulder from the ribs, and then dividing the ribs. To carve a loin of veal, begin at the smaller end and separate the ribs. Help each one to a piece of the kidney and its fat. Carve pork and mutton in the same way. To carve a fillet of veal, begin at the top, and help to the stuffing with each slice. In a breast of veal, separate the breast and brisket, and then cut them up, asking which part is preferred. In carving a pig, it is customary to divide it, and take off the head, before it comes to the table; as, to many persons, the head is very revolting. Cut off the limbs, and divide the ribs. In carving venison, make a deep incision down to the bone, to let out the juices; then turn the broad end of the haunch towards you, cutting deep, in thin slices. For a saddle of venison, cut from the tail towards the other end, on each side, in thin slices. Warm plates are very necessary, with venison and mutton, and in Winter, are desirable for all meats. CHAPTER XXXI. ON THE CARE OF CHAMBERS AND BEDROOMS. Every mistress of a family should see, not only that all sleeping-rooms in her house _can be_ well ventilated at night, but that they actually are so. Where there is no open fireplace to admit the pure air from the exterior, a door should be left open into an entry, or room where fresh air is admitted; or else a small opening should be made in a window, taking care not to allow a draught of air to cross the bed. The debility of childhood, the lassitude of domestics, and the ill-health of families, are often caused by neglecting to provide a supply of pure air. Straw matting is best for a chamber carpet, and strips of woollen carpeting may be laid by the side of the bed. Where chambers have no closets, a _wardrobe_ is indispensable. This is a moveable closet, with doors, divided, by a perpendicular partition, into two apartments. In one division, rows of hooks are placed, on which to hang dresses. The other division is fitted up with shelves, for other uses. Some are made with drawers at the bottom for shoes, and such like articles. A low square box, set on casters, with a cushion on the top, and a drawer on one side to put shoes in, is a great convenience in dressing the feet. An old champaigne basket, fitted up with a cushion on the lid, and a valance fastened to it to cover the sides, can be used for the same purpose. A comfortable couch, for chambers and sitting-rooms, can be made by a common carpenter, at a small expense. Have a frame made (like the annexed engraving, Fig. 38,) of common stuff, six feet long, twenty-eight inches wide, and twelve inches high. It must be made thus low, because the casters and cushions will raise it several inches. Have the sloping side-piece, _a_, and head-piece, _b_, sawed out of a board; nail brown linen on them, and stuff them with soft hay or hair. Let these be screwed to the frame, and covered with furniture patch. Then let slats be nailed across the bottom, as at _c_, _c_, four inches apart. This will cost two or three dollars. Then make a thick cushion, of hay or straw, with side strips, like a mattress, and lay this for the under-cushion. To put over this, make a thinner cushion, of hair, cover it with furniture-calico, and fasten to it a valance reaching to the floor. Then make two square pillows, and cover them with calico, like the rest. Both the cushions should be stitched through like mattresses. [Illustration: Fig. 38.] The writer has seen a couch of this kind, in a common parlor, which cost less than eight dollars, was much admired, and was a constant comfort to the feeble mother, as well as many other members of the family. Another convenience, for a room where sewing is done in Summer, is a fancy-jar, set in one corner, to receive clippings, and any other rubbish. It can be covered with prints, or paintings, and varnished; and then looks very prettily. The trunks in a chamber can be improved in looks and comfort, by making cushions of the same size and shape, stuffed with hay and covered with chintz, with a frill reaching nearly to the floor. Every bedchamber should have a washstand, bowl, pitcher, and tumbler, with a washbucket under the stand, to receive slops. A light screen, made like a clothes-frame, and covered with paper or chintz, should be furnished for bedrooms occupied by two persons, so that ablutions can be performed in privacy. It can be ornamented, so as to look well anywhere. A little frame, or towel-horse, by the washstand, on which to dry towels, is a convenience. A washstand should be furnished with a sponge or washcloth, and a small towel, for wiping the basin after using it. This should be hung on the washstand or towel-horse, for constant use. A soap-dish, and a dish for toothbrushes, are neat and convenient, and each person should be furnished with two towels; one for the feet, and one for other purposes. It is in good taste to have the curtains, bedquilt, valance, and window-curtains, of similar materials. In making featherbeds, side-pieces should be put in, like those of mattresses, and the bed should be well filled, so that a person will not be buried in a hollow, which is not healthful, save in extremely cold weather. Featherbeds should never be used, except in cold weather. At other times, a thin mattress of hair, cotton and moss, or straw, should be put over them. A simple strip of broad straw matting, spread over a featherbed, answers the same purpose. Nothing is more debilitating, than, in warm weather, to sleep with a featherbed pressing round the greater part of the body. Pillows stuffed with papers an inch square, are good for Summer, especially for young children, whose heads should be kept cool. The cheapest and best covering of a bed, for Winter, is a _cotton comforter_, made to contain three or four pounds of cotton, laid in batts or sheets, between covers tacked together at regular intervals. They should be three yards square, and less cotton should be put at the sides that are tucked in. It is better to have two thin comforters, to each bed, than one thick one; as then the covering can be regulated according to the weather. Few domestics will make a bed properly, without much attention from the mistress of the family. The following directions should be given to those who do this work. Open the windows, and lay off the bed-covering, on two chairs, at the foot of the bed. After the bed is well aired, shake the feathers, from each corner to the middle; then take up the middle, and shake it well, and turn the bed over. Then push the feathers in place, making the head higher than the foot, and the sides even, and as high as the middle part. Then put on the bolster and the under sheet, so that the wrong side of the sheet shall go next the bed, and the _marking_ come at the head, tucking in all around. Then put on the pillows, even, so that the open ends shall come to the sides of the bed, and then spread on the upper sheet, so that the wrong side shall be next the blankets, and the marked end at the head. This arrangement of sheets is to prevent the part where the feet lie from being reversed, so as to come to the face, and also to prevent the parts soiled by the body from coming to the bedtick and blankets. Then put on the other covering, except the outer one, tucking in all around, and then turn over the upper sheet, at the head, so as to show a part of the pillows. When the pillow-cases are clean and smooth, they look best outside of the cover, but not otherwise. Then draw the hand along the side of the pillows, to make an even indentation, and then smooth and shape the whole outside. A nice housekeeper always notices the manner in which a bed is made; and in some parts of the Country, it is rare to see this work properly performed. The writer would here urge every mistress of a family, who keeps more than one domestic, to provide them with single beds, that they may not be obliged to sleep with all the changing domestics, who come and go so often. Where the room is too small for two beds, a narrow trucklebed under another, will answer. Domestics should be furnished with washing conveniences in their chambers, and be encouraged to keep their persons and rooms neat and in order. _On Packing and Storing Articles._ Fold a gentleman's coat, thus:--Lay it on a table or bed, the inside downward, and unroll the collar. Double each sleeve once, making the crease at the elbow, and laying them so as to make the fewest wrinkles, and parallel with the skirts. Turn the fronts over the back and sleeves, and then turn up the skirts, making all as smooth as possible. Fold a shirt, thus:--One that has a bosom-piece inserted, lay on a bed, bosom downward. Fold each sleeve twice, and lay it parallel with the sides of the shirt. Turn the two sides, with the sleeves, over the middle part, and then turn up the bottom, with two folds. This makes the collar and bosom lie, unpressed, on the outside. Fold a frock thus:--Lay its front downward, so as to make the first creases in folding come in the side breadths. To do this, find the middle of the side breadths by first putting the middle of the front and back breadths together. Next, fold over the side creases so as just to meet the slit behind. Then fold the skirt again, so as to make the backs lie together within and the fronts without. Then arrange the waist and sleeves, and fold the skirt around them. In packing trunks, for travelling, put all heavy articles at the bottom, covered with paper, which should not be printed, as the ink rubs off. Put coats and pantaloons into linen cases, made for the purpose, and furnished with strings. Fill all crevices with small articles; as, if a trunk is not full, nor tightly packed, its contents will be shaken about, and get injured. A thin box, the exact size of the trunk, with a lid, and covered with brown linen, is a great convenience, to set inside, on the top of the trunk, to contain light articles which would be injured by tight packing. Have straps, with buckles, fastened to the inside, near the bottom, long enough to come up and buckle over this box. By this means, when a trunk is not quite full, this box can be strapped over so tight, as to keep the articles from rubbing. Under-clothing packs closer, by being rolled tightly, instead of being folded. Bonnet-boxes, made of light wood, with a lock and key, are better than the paper bandboxes so annoying to travellers. Carpet bags are very useful, to carry the articles to be used on a journey. The best ones have sides inserted, iron rims, and a lock and key. A large silk travelling-bag, with a double linen lining, in which are stitched receptacles for toothbrush, combs, and other small articles, is a very convenient article for use when travelling. A bonnet-cover, made of some thin material, like a large hood with a cape, is useful to draw over the bonnet and neck, to keep off dust, sun, and sparks from a steam engine. Green veils are very apt to stain bonnets, when damp. In packing household furniture, for moving, have each box numbered, and then have a book, in which, as each box is packed, note down the number of the box, and the order in which its contents are packed, as this will save much labor and perplexity when unpacking. In packing china and glass, wrap each article, separately, in paper, and put soft hay or straw at bottom and all around each. Put the heaviest articles at the bottom; and on the top of the box, write, "This side up." CHAPTER XXXII. ON THE CARE OF THE KITCHEN, CELLAR, AND STOREROOM. If parents wish their daughters to grow up with good domestic habits, they should have, as one means of securing this result, a neat and cheerful kitchen. A kitchen should always, if possible, be entirely above ground, and well lighted. It should have a large sink, with a drain running under ground, so that all the premises may be kept sweet and clean. If flowers and shrubs be cultivated, around the doors and windows, and the yard near them be kept well turfed, it will add very much to their agreeable appearance. The walls should often be cleaned and whitewashed, to promote a neat look and pure air. The floor of a kitchen should be painted, or, which is better, covered with an oilcloth. To procure a kitchen oilcloth as cheaply as possible, buy cheap tow cloth, and fit it to the size and shape of the kitchen. Then have it stretched, and nailed to the south side of the barn, and, with a brush, cover it with a coat of thin rye paste. When this is dry, put on a coat of yellow paint, and let it dry for a fortnight. It is safest to first try the paint, and see if it dries well, as some paint never will dry. Then put on a second coat, and at the end of another fortnight, a third coat. Then let it hang two months, and it will last, uninjured, for many years. The longer the paint is left to dry, the better. If varnished, it will last much longer. A sink should be scalded out every day, and occasionally with hot ley. On nails, over the sink, should be hung three good dish-cloths, hemmed, and furnished with loops; one for dishes not greasy, one for greasy dishes, and one for washing pots and kettles. These should be put in the wash every week. The lady who insists upon this, will not be annoyed by having her dishes washed with dark, musty, and greasy, rags, as is too frequently the case. Under the sink should be kept a slop-pail; and, on a shelf by it, a soap-dish and two water-pails. A large boiler, of warm soft water, should always be kept over the fire, well covered, and a hearth-broom and bellows be hung near the fire. A clock is a very important article in the kitchen, in order to secure regularity at meals. _On Washing Dishes._ No item of domestic labor is so frequently done in a negligent manner, by domestics, as this. A full supply of conveniences, will do much toward a remedy of this evil. A swab, made of strips of linen, tied to a stick, is useful to wash nice dishes, especially small, deep articles. Two or three towels, and three dish-cloths, should be used. Two large tin tubs, painted on the outside, should be provided; one for washing, and one for rinsing; also, a large old waiter, on which to drain the dishes. A soap-dish, with hard soap, and a fork, with which to use it, a slop-pail, and two pails for water, should also be furnished. Then, if there be danger of neglect, the following rules for washing dishes, legibly written, may be hung up by the sink, and it will aid in promoting the desired care and neatness. _Rules for Washing Dishes._ 1. Scrape the dishes, putting away any food which may remain on them, and which it may be proper to save for future use. Put grease into the grease-pot, and whatever else may be on the plates, into the slop-pail. Save tea-leaves, for sweeping. Set all the dishes, when scraped, in regular piles; the smallest at the top. 2. Put the nicest articles in the wash-dish, and wash them in hot suds, with the swab or nicest dish-cloth. Wipe all metal articles, as soon as they are washed. Put all the rest into the rinsing-dish, which should be filled with hot water. When they are taken out, lay them to drain on the waiter. Then rinse the dish-cloth, and hang it up, wipe the articles washed, and put them in their places. 3. Pour in more hot water, wash the greasy dishes with the dish-cloth made for them; rinse them, and set them to drain. Wipe them, and set them away. Wash the knives and forks, _being careful that the handles are never put in water_; wipe them, and then lay them in a knife-dish, to be scoured. 4. Take a fresh supply of clean suds, in which, wash the milk-pans, buckets, and tins. Then rinse and hang up this dish-cloth, and take the other; with which, wash the roaster, gridiron, pots, and kettles. Then wash and rinse the dish-cloth, and hang it up. Empty the slop-bucket and scald it. Dry metal teapots and tins before the fire. Then put the fireplace in order, and sweep and dust the kitchen. Some persons keep a deep and narrow vessel, in which to wash knives with a swab, so that a careless domestic _cannot_ lay them in the water while washing them. This article can be carried into the eating-room, to receive the knives and forks, when they are taken from the table. _Kitchen Furniture._ _Crockery._ Brown earthen pans are said to be best, for milk and for cooking. Tin pans are lighter, and more convenient, but are too cold for many purposes. Tall earthen jars, with covers, are good to hold butter, salt, lard, &c. Acids should never be put into the red earthen ware, as there is a poisonous ingredient in the glazing, which the acid takes off. Stone ware is better, and stronger, and safer, every way, than any other kind. _Iron Ware._ Many kitchens are very imperfectly supplied with the requisite conveniences for cooking. When a person has sufficient means, the following articles are all desirable. A nest of iron pots, of different sizes, (they should be slowly heated, when new;) a long iron fork, to take out articles from boiling water; an iron hook, with a handle, to lift pots from the crane; a large and small gridiron, with grooved bars, and a trench to catch the grease; a Dutch oven, called, also, a bakepan; two skillets, of different sizes, and a spider, or flat skillet, for frying; a griddle, a waffle-iron, tin and iron bake and bread-pans; two ladles, of different sizes; a skimmer; iron skewers; a toasting-iron; two teakettles, one small and one large one; two brass kettles, of different sizes, for soap-boiling, &c. Iron kettles, lined with porcelain, are better for preserves. The German are the best. Too hot a fire will crack them, but with care in this respect, they will last for many years. Portable furnaces, of iron or clay, are very useful, in Summer, in washing, ironing, and stewing, or making preserves. If used in the house, a strong draught must be made, to prevent the deleterious effects of the charcoal. A box and mill, for spice, pepper, and coffee, are needful to those who use these articles. Strong knives and forks, a sharp carving-knife, an iron cleaver and board, a fine saw, steelyards, chopping-tray and knife, an apple-parer, steel for sharpening knives, sugar-nippers, a dozen iron spoons, also a large iron one with a long handle, six or eight flatirons, one of them very small, two iron-stands, a ruffle-iron, a crimping-iron, are also desirable. _Tin Ware._ Bread-pans, large and small pattypans, cake-pans, with a centre tube to insure their baking well, pie-dishes, (of block-tin,) a covered butter-kettle, covered kettles to hold berries, two sauce-pans, a large oil-can, (with a cock,) a lamp-filler, a lantern, broad-bottomed candlesticks for the kitchen, a candle-box, a funnel or tunnel, a reflector, for baking warm cakes, an oven or tin-kitchen, an apple-corer, an apple-roaster, an egg-boiler, two sugar-scoops, and flour and meal-scoop, a set of mugs, three dippers, a pint, quart, and gallon measure, a set of scales and weights, three or four pails, painted on the outside, a slop-bucket, with a tight cover, painted on the outside, a milk-strainer, a gravy-strainer, a colander, a dredging-box, a pepper-box, a large and small grater, a box, in which to keep cheese, also a large one for cake, and a still larger one for bread, with tight covers. Bread, cake, and cheese, shut up in this way, will not grow dry as in the open air. _Wooden Ware._ A nest of tubs, a set of pails and bowls, a large and small sieve, a beetle for mashing potatoes, a spad or stick for stirring butter and sugar, a bread-board, for moulding bread and making pie-crust, a coffee-stick, a clothes-stick, a mush-stick, a meat-beetle to pound tough meat, an egg-beater, a ladle for working butter, a bread-trough, (for a large family,) flour-buckets, with lids to hold sifted flour and Indian meal, salt-boxes, sugar-boxes, starch and indigo-boxes, spice-boxes, a bosom-board, a skirt-board, a large ironing-board, two or three clothes-frames, and six dozen clothes-pins. _Basket Ware._ Baskets, of all sizes, for eggs, fruit, marketing, clothes, &c.; also chip-baskets. When often used, they should be washed in hot suds. _Other Articles._ Every kitchen needs a box containing balls of brown thread and twine, a large and small darning needle, rolls of waste-paper and old linen and cotton, and a supply of common holders. There should also be another box, containing a hammer, carpet-tacks, and nails of all sizes, a carpet-claw, screws and a screw-driver, pincers, gimlets of several sizes, a bed-screw, a small saw, two chisels, (one to use for buttonholes in broadcloth,) two awls, and two files. In a drawer, or cupboard, should be placed, cotton table-cloths, for kitchen use, nice crash towels, for tumblers, marked, T T; coarser towels, for dishes, marked, T; six large roller-towels; a dozen hand-towels, marked, H T; and a dozen hemmed dish-cloths, with loops. Also, two thick linen pudding or dumpling-cloths, a gelly-bag, made of white flannel, to strain gelly, a starch-strainer, and a bag for boiling clothes. In a closet, should be kept, arranged in order, the following articles: the dust-pan, dust-brush, and dusting-cloths, old flannel and cotton for scouring and rubbing, sponges for washing windows and looking-glasses, a long brush for cobwebs, and another for washing the outside of windows, whisk-brooms, common brooms, a coat-broom or brush, a whitewash-brush, a stove-brush, shoebrushes and blacking, articles for cleaning tin and silver, leather for cleaning metals, bottles containing stain-mixtures, and other articles used in cleansing. ON THE CARE OF THE CELLAR. A cellar should often be whitewashed, to keep it sweet. It should have a drain, to keep it perfectly dry, as standing water, in a cellar, is a sure cause of disease in a family. It is very dangerous to leave decayed vegetables in a cellar. Many a fever has been caused, by the poisonous miasm thus generated. The following articles are desirable in a cellar: a safe, or moveable closet, with sides of wire or perforated tin, in which cold meats, cream, and other articles should be kept; (if ants be troublesome, set the legs in tin cups of water;) a refrigerator, or large wooden box, on feet, with a lining of tin or zinc, and a space between the tin and wood filled with powdered charcoal, having at the bottom, a place for ice, a drain to carry off the water, and also moveable shelves and partitions. In this, articles are kept cool. It should be cleaned, once a week. Filtering jars, to purify water, should also be kept in the cellar. Fish and cabbages, in a cellar, are apt to scent a house, and give a bad taste to other articles. STOREROOM. Every house needs a storeroom, in which to keep tea, coffee, sugar, rice, candles, &c. It should be furnished with jars, having labels, a large spoon, a fork, sugar and flour-scoops, a towel, and a dish-cloth. _Modes of destroying Insects and Vermin._ _Bed-bugs_ should be kept away, by filling every chink in the bedstead with putty, and, if it be old, painting it over. Of all the mixtures for killing them, _corrosive sublimate and alcohol_ is the surest. This is a strong poison. _Cockroaches_ may be destroyed, by pouring boiling water into their haunts, or setting a mixture of arsenic, mixed with Indian meal and molasses, where they are found. Chloride of lime and sweetened water will also poison them. _Fleas._ If a dog be infested with these insects, put him in a tub of warm soapsuds, and they will rise to the surface. Take them off, and burn them. Strong perfumes, about the person, diminish their attacks. When caught between the fingers, plunge them in water, or they will escape. _Crickets._ Scalding, and sprinkling Scotch snuff about the haunts of these insects, are remedies for the annoyance caused by them. _Flies_ can be killed, in great quantities, by placing about the house vessels, filled with sweetened water and _cobalt_. Six cents worth of cobalt is enough for a pint of water. It is very poisonous. _Musquitoes._ Close nets around a bed, are the only sure protection at night, against these insects. Spirit of hartshorn is the best antidote for their bite. Salt and water is good. _Red_ or _Black Ants_ may be driven away, by scalding their haunts, and putting Scotch snuff wherever they go for food. Set the legs of closets and safes in pans of water, and they cannot get at them. _Moths._ Airing clothes does not destroy moths, but laying them in a hot sun does. If articles be tightly sewed up in linen, and fine tobacco be put about them, it is a sure protection. This should be done in April. _Rats and Mice._ A good cat is the best remedy for these annoyances. Equal quantities of hemlock, (or _cicuta_,) and old cheese, will poison them, but this renders the house liable to the inconvenience of a bad smell. This evil, however, may be lessened, by placing a dish, containing oil of vitriol poured on saltpetre, where the smell is most annoying. Chloride of lime and water is also good. CHAPTER XXXIII. ON SEWING, CUTTING, AND MENDING. Every young girl should be taught to do the following kinds of stitch, with propriety. Over-stitch, hemming, running, felling, stitching, back-stitch and run, buttonhole-stitch, chain-stitch, whipping, darning, gathering, and cross-stitch. In doing over-stitch, the edges should always be first fitted, either with pins or basting, to prevent puckering. In turning wide hems, a paper measure should be used, to make them even. Tucks, also, should be regulated by a paper measure. A fell should be turned, before the edges are put together, and the seam should be over-sewed, before felling. All biased or goring seams should be felled. For stitching, draw a thread, and take up two or three threads at a stitch. In making buttonholes, it is best to have a pair of scissors, made for the purpose, which cut very neatly. For broadcloth, a chisel and board are better. The best stitch is made by putting in the needle, and then turning the thread around it, near the eye. This is better than to draw the needle through, and then take up a loop. A thread should first be put across each side of the buttonhole, and also a stay-thread, or bar, at each end, before working it. In working the buttonhole, keep the stay-thread as far from the edge as possible. A small bar should be worked at each end. Whipping is done better by sewing _over_, and not under. The roll should be as fine as possible, the stitches short, the thread strong, and in sewing, every gather should be taken up. The rule for _gathering_, in shirts, is, to draw a thread, and then take up two threads and skip four. In _darning_, after the perpendicular threads are run, the crossing threads should interlace, exactly, taking one thread and leaving one, like woven threads. The neatest sewers always fit and baste their work, before sewing; and they say they always save time in the end, by so doing, as they never have to pick out work, on account of mistakes. It is wise to sew closely and tightly all new garments, which will never be altered in shape; but some are more nice than wise, in sewing frocks, and old garments, in the same style. However, this is the least common extreme. It is much more frequently the case, that articles, which ought to be strongly and neatly made, are sewed so that a nice sewer would rather pick out the threads and sew over again, than to be annoyed with the sight of grinning stitches, and vexed with constant rips. _Workbaskets._ It is very important to neatness, comfort, and success in sewing, that a lady's workbasket should be properly fitted up. The following articles are needful to the mistress of a family: a large basket, to hold work; having in it, fastened, a smaller basket, or box, containing a needle-book, in which are needles of every size, both blunts and sharps, with a larger number of those sizes most used; also, small and large darning-needles, for woollen, cotton, and silk; two tape-needles, large and small; nice scissors, for fine work; buttonhole scissors; an emery-bag; two balls of white and yellow wax; and two thimbles, in case one should be mislaid. When a person is troubled with damp fingers, a lump of soft chalk, in a paper, is useful, to rub on the ends of the fingers. Besides this box, keep in the basket, common scissors; small shears; a bag containing tapes, of all colors and sizes, done up in rolls; bags, one, containing spools of white, and another of colored, cotton thread, and another for silks, wound on spools or papers; a box or bag for nice buttons, and another for more common ones; a bag containing silk braid, welting cords, and galloon binding. Small rolls of pieces of white and brown linen and cotton, are also often needed. A brick pincushion is a great convenience, in sewing, and better than screw-cushions. It is made by covering half a brick with cloth, putting a cushion on the top, and covering it tastefully. It is very useful to hold pins and needles, while sewing, and to fasten long seams when basting and sewing. _To make a Frock._ The best way for a novice, is, to get a dress fitted (not sewed) at the best mantuamaker's. Then take out a sleeve, rip it to pieces, and cut out a pattern. Then take out half of the waist, (it must have a seam in front,) and cut out a pattern of the back and fore-body, both lining and outer part. In cutting the patterns, iron the pieces, smooth, let the paper be stiff, and, with a pin, prick holes in the paper, to show the gore in front, and the depth of the seams. With a pen and ink, draw lines from each pinhole, to preserve this mark. Then baste the parts together again, in doing which, the unbasted half will serve as a pattern. When this is done, a lady of common ingenuity can cut and fit a dress, by these patterns. If the waist of a dress be too tight, the seam under the arm must be let out; and in cutting a dress, an allowance should be made, for letting it out, if needful, at this seam. The lining of the fore-body must be biased. The linings for the waists of dresses should be stiffened cotton or linen. In cutting bias-pieces, for trimming, they will not set well, unless they are exact. In cutting them, use a long rule, and a lead pencil or piece of chalk. Welting-cords should be covered with bias-pieces; and it saves time, in many cases, to baste on the welting-cord, at the same time that you cover it. The best way to put on hooks and eyes, is to sew them on double broad tape, and then sew this on the frock-lining. They can then be moved easily, and do not show where they are sewed on. In cutting a sleeve, double it biased. The skirts of dresses look badly, if not full; and in putting on lining, at the bottom, be careful to have it a very little fuller than the dress, or it will shrink, and look badly. All thin silks look much better with lining, and last much longer, as do aprons, also. In putting a lining to a dress, baste it on each separate breadth, and sew it in at the seams, and it looks much better than to have it fastened only at the bottom. Make notches in selvedge, to prevent it from drawing up the breadth. Dresses, which are to be washed, should not be lined. Figured silks do not generally wear well, if the figure be large and satin-like. Black and plain-colored silks can be tested, by procuring samples, and making creases in them; fold the creases in a bunch, and rub them against a rough surface, of moreen or carpeting. Those which are poor, will soon wear off, at the creases. Plaids look becoming, for tall women, as they shorten the appearance of the figure. Stripes look becoming, on a large person, as they reduce the apparent size. Pale persons should not wear blue or green, and brunettes should not wear light delicate colors, except shades of buff, fawn, or straw color. Pearl white is not good for any complexion. Dead white and black look becoming on almost all persons. It is best to try colors, by candle-light, for evening dresses; as some colors, which look very handsome in the daylight, are very homely when seen by candle-light. Never cut a dress low in the neck, as this shows that a woman is not properly instructed in the rules of modesty and decorum, or that she has not sense enough to regard them. Never be in haste to be first in a fashion, and never go to the extremes. In buying linen, seek for that which has a round close thread, and is perfectly white; for, if it be not white, at first, it will never afterwards become so. Much that is called linen, at the shops, is half cotton, and does not wear so well as cotton alone. Cheap linens are usually of this kind. It is difficult to discover which are all linen; but the best way, is, to find a lot, presumed to be good, take a sample, wash it, and ravel it. If this be good, the rest of the same lot will probably be so. If you cannot do this, draw a thread, each way, and if both appear equally strong, it is probably all linen. Linen and cotton must be put in clean water, and boiled, to get out the starch, and then ironed. A long piece of linen, a yard wide, will, with care and calculation, make eight shirts. In cutting it, take a shirt of the right size, as a guide, in fitting and basting. Bosom-pieces, false collars, &c. must be cut and fitted, by a pattern which suits the person for whom the articles are designed. Gentlemen's night-shirts are made like other shirts, except that they are longer. In cutting chemises, if the cotton or linen is a yard wide, cut off small half gores, at the top of the breadths, and set them on the bottom. Use a long rule and a pencil, in cutting gores. In cutting cotton, which is quite wide, a seam can be saved, by cutting out two at once, in this manner:--cut off three breadths, and, with a long rule and a pencil, mark and cut off the gores, thus: from one breadth, cut off two gores, the whole length, each gore one fourth of the breadth, at the bottom, and tapering off to a point, at the top. The other two breadths are to have a gore cut off from each, which is one fourth wide at top, and two fourths at bottom. Arrange these pieces right, and they will make two chemises, one having four seams, and the other three. This is a much easier way of cutting, than sewing the three breadths together, in bag-fashion, as is often done. The biased, or goring seams, must always be felled. The sleeves and neck can be cut according to the taste of the wearer, by another chemise for a pattern. There should be a lining around the armholes, and stays at all corners. Six yards, of yard width, will make two chemises. Old silk dresses, quilted for skirts, are very serviceable. White flannel is soiled so easily, and shrinks so much in washing, that it is a good plan to color it a light dove-color, according to the receipt given on page 301. Cotton flannel, dyed thus, is also good for common skirts. In making up flannel, back-stitch and run the seams, and then cross-stitch them open. Nice flannel, for infants, can be ornamented, with very little expense of time, by turning up the hem, on the right side, and making a little vine at the edge, with saddler's silk. The stitch of the vine is a modification of buttonhole-stitch. Long night gowns are best, cut a little goring. It requires five yards, for a long nightgown, and two and a half for a short one. Linen nightcaps wear longer than cotton ones, and do not, like them, turn yellow. They should be ruffled with linen, as cotton borders will not last so long as the cap. A double-quilted wrapper is a great comfort, in case of sickness. It may be made of two old dresses. It should not be cut full, but rather like a gentleman's study-gown, having no gathers or plaits, but large enough to slip off and on with ease. A double gown, of calico, is also very useful. Most articles of dress, for grown persons or children, require patterns. _Bedding._ The best beds, are thick hair mattresses, which, for persons in health, are good for Winter as well as Summer use. Mattresses may also be made of husks, dried and drawn into shreds; also, of alternate layers of cotton and moss. The most profitable sheeting, is the Russian, which will last three times as long as any other. It is never perfectly white. Unbleached cotton is good for Winter. It is poor economy to make narrow and short sheets, as children and domestics will always slip them off, and soil the bedtick and bolster. They should be three yards long, and two and a half wide, so that they can be tucked in all around. All bed-linen should be marked and numbered, so that a bed can always be made properly, and all missing articles be known. _Mending._ Silk dresses will last much longer, by ripping out the sleeves, when thin, and changing the arms, and also the breadths of the skirt. Tumbled black silk, which is old and rusty, should be dipped in water, then be drained for a few minutes, without squeezing or pressing, and then ironed. Cold tea is better than water. Sheets, when worn thin in the middle, should be ripped, and the other edges sewed together. Window-curtains last much longer, if lined, as the sun fades and rots them. Broadcloth should be cut with reference to the way the nap runs. When pantaloons are thin, it is best to newly seat them, cutting the piece inserted in a curve, as corners are difficult to fit. When the knees are thin, it is a case of domestic surgery, which demands _amputation_. This is performed, by cutting off both legs, some distance above the knees, and then changing the legs. Take care to cut them off exactly of the same length, or in the exchange they will not fit. This method brings the worn spot under the knees, and the seam looks much better than a patch and darn. Hose can be cut down, when the feet are worn. Take an old stocking, and cut it up for a pattern. Make the heel short. In sewing, turn each edge, and run it down, and then sew over the edges. This is better than to stitch and then cross-stitch. Run thin places in stockings, and it will save darning a hole. If shoes are worn through on the sides, in the upper-leather, slip pieces of broadcloth under, and sew them around the holes. If, in sewing, the thread kinks, break it off and begin at the other end. In using spool-cotton, thread the needle with the end which comes off first, and not the end where you break it off. This often prevents kinks. CHAPTER XXXIV. ON THE CARE OF YARDS AND GARDENS. The authorities consulted in the preparation of this and kindred chapters, are, Loudon's Encyclopædia of Gardening, Bridgeman's Young Gardener, Hovey's Magazine of Horticulture, the writings of Judge Buel,[T] and Downing's Landscape Gardening. _On the Preparation of Soil._ If the garden soil be clayey, and adhesive, put on a covering of sand, three inches thick, and the same depth of well-rotted manure. Spade it in, as deep as possible, and mix it well. If the soil be sandy and loose, spade in clay and ashes. Ashes are good for all kinds of soil, as they loosen those which are close, hold moisture in those which are sandy, and destroy insects. The best kind of soil, is that, which will hold water the longest, without becoming hard, when dry. _To prepare Soil for Pot-plants_, take one fourth part of common soil, one fourth part of well-decayed manure, and one half of vegetable mould, from the woods, or from a chip-yard. Break up the manure, fine, and sift it through a lime-screen, (or coarse wire sieve.) These materials must be thoroughly mixed. When the common soil which is used, is adhesive, and, indeed, in most other cases, it is necessary to add sand, the proportion of which, must depend on the nature of the soil. _On the Preparation of a Hot Bed._ Dig a pit, six feet long, five feet wide, and thirty inches deep. Make a frame, of the same size, with the back two feet high, the front fifteen inches, and the sides sloped from the back to the front. Make two sashes, each three feet by five, with the panes of glass lapping like shingles, instead of having cross bars. Set the frame over the pit, which should then be filled with fresh horse-dung, which has not lain long, nor been sodden by water. Tread it down, hard, then put into the frame, light, and very rich soil, ten or twelve inches deep, and cover it with the sashes, for two or three days. Then stir the soil, and sow the seeds in shallow drills, placing sticks by them, to mark the different kinds. Keep the frame covered with the glass, whenever it is cold enough to chill the plants; but at all other times, admit fresh air, which is indispensable to their health. When the sun is quite warm, raise the glasses, enough to admit air, and cover them with matting or blankets, or else the sun may kill the young plants. Water the bed at evening, with water which has stood all day, or, if it be fresh drawn, add a little warm water. If there be too much heat in the bed, so as to scorch or wither the plants, make deep holes, with stakes, and fill them up when the heat is reduced. In very cold nights, cover the box with straw. _On Planting Flower Seeds._ Break up the soil, till it is very soft, and free from lumps. Rub that nearest the surface, between the hands, to make it fine. Make a circular drill, a foot in diameter. For seeds as large as sweet peas, it should be half an inch deep. The smallest seeds must be planted very near the surface, and a very little fine earth be sifted over them. Seeds are to be planted either deeper or nearer the surface, according to their size. After covering them with soil, beat them down with a trowel, so as to make the earth as compact as it is after a heavy shower. Set up a stick, in the middle of the circle, with the name of the plant heavily written upon it, with a dark lead pencil. This remains more permanent, if white lead be first rubbed over the surface. Never plant, when the soil is very wet. In very dry times, water the seeds at night. Never use very cold water. When the seeds are small, many should be planted together, that they may assist each other in breaking the soil. When the plants are an inch high, thin them out, leaving only one or two, if the plant be a large one, like the Balsam; five or six, when it is of a medium size; and eighteen or twenty of the smaller size. Transplanting, retards the growth of a plant about a fortnight. It is best to plant at two different times, lest the first planting should fail, owing to wet or cold weather. _To Plant Garden Seeds._ Make the beds a yard wide; lay across them a board, a yard long and a foot wide, and, with a stick, make a furrow, on each side of it, one inch deep. Scatter the seeds in this furrow, and cover them. Then lay the board over them and step on it, to press down the earth. When the plants are an inch high, thin them out, leaving spaces proportioned to their sizes. Seeds of a similar species, such as melons and squashes, should not be planted very near to each other, as this causes them to degenerate. The same kinds of vegetables should not be planted in the same place, for two years in succession. _On Transplanting._ Transplant at evening, or, which is better, just before a shower. Take a round stick, sharpened at the point, and make openings to receive the plants. Set them a very little deeper than they were before, and press the soil firmly round them. Then water them, and cover them for three or four days, taking care that sufficient air be admitted. If the plant can be removed, without disturbing the soil around the root, it will not be at all retarded, by transplanting. Never remove leaves and branches, unless a part of the roots be lost. _To Re-pot House-Plants._ Renew the soil, every year, soon after the time of blossoming. Prepare soil, as previously directed. Loosen the earth from the pot, by passing a knife around the sides. Turn the plant upside down, and remove the pot. Then remove all the matted fibres at the bottom, and all the earth, except that which adheres to the roots. From woody plants, like roses, shake off all the earth. Take the new pot, and put a piece of broken earthen-ware over the hole at the bottom; and then, holding the plant in the proper position, shake in the earth, around it. Then pour in water, to settle the earth, and heap on fresh soil, till the pot is even full. Small pots are considered better than large ones, as the roots are not so likely to rot, from excess of moisture. _On the Laying out of Yards and Gardens._ In planting trees, in a yard, they should be arranged in groups, and never planted in straight lines, nor sprinkled about, as solitary trees. The object of this arrangement, is, to imitate Nature, and secure some spots of dense shade and some of cleared turf. In yards which are covered with turf, beds can be cut out of it, and raised for flowers. A trench should be made around, to prevent the grass from running on them. These beds can be made in the shape of crescents, ovals, or other fanciful forms, of which, the figure below is one specimen. [Illustration: Fig. 39.] In laying out beds, in gardens and yards, a very pretty bordering can be made, by planting them with common flax seed, in a line about three inches from the edge. This can be trimmed, with shears, when it grows too high. _On the Cultivation of Bulbs, and Tuberous Roots._ For planting the _Amaryllis_, take one third part of leaf mould, half as much sand, and the remainder, earth from under fresh grass sods. Plant them in May. The bulb should not be set more than half its depth in the ground. The _Anemone_ and _Ranunculus_ are medium, or half-hardy, roots. They should be planted in soil which is enriched with cowdung, and the beds should be raised only an inch from the walk. They must be planted in October, in drills, two inches deep, the claws of the roots downward, and be shaded when they begin to bud. The _Crocus_ must be planted in October, two inches deep, and four inches apart. In measuring the depth, always calculate from the top of the bulb. _Crown Imperial._ This must be planted in September, three or four inches deep; and need not be taken up but once in three years. _Gladiolus._ Those who have greenhouses, or pits, plant the Gladiolus in October, and preserve it in pots through the Winter. Those who have not these conveniences, may plant these bulbs late in April. The earth must be composed of one half common soil, one fourth leaf mould, and one fourth sand. Plant them about an inch deep. _Hyacinths_ should be planted in October, eight inches apart, and three or four inches deep, in a rich soil. _Jonquilles_ should be planted in October, two inches deep, in a rich soil, and should not be taken up oftener than once in three years. _Narcissus._ This should be planted in October, four inches deep; covered, through the Winter, with straw and leaves, six inches thick; and uncovered in the middle of March. _Oxalis._ Plant this in September, in a soil, composed of two thirds common earth, and one third leaf mould. The old bulb dies after blossoming, and is succeeded by a new one. Plant _Tulips_, in rich soil, in October, three inches deep. Plant _Tuberoses_ late in April, in a rich, sandy soil. They are delicate plants, and should be covered, in case of frosts. _Daffodils_ should be planted two inches deep. When bulbs have done flowering, and their leaves begin to decay, they should be taken up and dried, and kept in a dry place, till October, when they are to be replanted, taking off the offsets, and putting them in a bed by themselves. Bulbs which blossom in water, or are in any other way forced to bloom out of season, are so much exhausted by it, that it takes them two or three years to recover their beauty. _Dahlias._ Dig a hole, a foot and a half deep; fill it with very light, loose, and rich, soil; and drive in a stake, a yard and a half high, to which, to tie the future plants. Then set in the root, so that it shall be an inch below the soil, where the sprout starts. When the plants are two feet high, tie them to the stakes, and take off some of the lower side-shoots. Continue to tie them, as their growth advances. If the roots are planted in the open borders, without any previous growth, it should be done as early as the first of May, and they should be covered from the frosts. When they are brought forward, in pots or hot-beds, they should be put out, in the middle of June. It is said, by gardeners, that late planting, is better than early, for producing perfect flowers. In the Autumn, after the frosts have destroyed the tops, let the roots remain awhile in the ground, to ripen; then dig them up, and pack them away, in some place where they will neither mould, from dampness, nor freeze. In the Spring, these roots will throw out sprouts, and must then be divided, so as to leave a good shoot, attached to a piece of the tuber or old stem, and each shoot will make a new plant. It is stated, that if the shoots themselves, without any root, be planted in light soil, covered with a bell-glass, or large tumbler, and carefully watered, they will produce plants superior to those with roots. _Annuals_ These are flowers which last only one season. They should be so planted, that the tallest may be in the middle of a bed, and the shortest at the edges; and flowers of a similar color should not be planted adjacent to each other. The following is a list of some of the handsomest Annuals, arranged with reference to their color and height. Those with a star before them, do best when sowed in the Autumn. Those with _tr._ after them, are trailing plants. SIX INCHES TO ONE FOOT HIGH. _White._ Ice Plant, Sweet Alyssum, White Leptosiphon, Walker's Schizopetalon, Blumenbachia insignis, *Candytuft. _Yellow._ *Yellow Chryseis or Eschscholtzia, Sanvitalia procumbens, _tr._, Musk-flowered Mimulus. _Rose._ Many-flowered Catchfly, Rose-colored Verbena, _tr._ _Red._ *Chinese Annual Pink, Virginian Stock, Calandrinia Speciosa. _Blue._ Graceful Lobelia, Nemophila insignis, Clintonia pulchella, Clintonia elegans, Nolana atriplicifolia, _tr._, Anagallis indica, Commelina coelestis, Grove Love, Pimpernel (blue.) _Varying Colors._ *Heart's Ease, or Pansy, Dwarf Love in a Mist, *Rose Campion. ONE FOOT TO EIGHTEEN INCHES HIGH. _White._ Venus's Looking Glass, Priest's Schizanthus, Sweet-scented Stevia, White Evening Primrose. _Yellow._ Drummond's Coreopsis, *New Dark Coreopsis, Golden Hawkweed, Dracopis amplexicaulis, Drummond's Primrose, Cladanthus arabicus, Peroffsky's Erysimum. _Rose._ Drummond's Phlox, Rodanthe, Rose-colored Nonea, Clarkia rosea, Silene Tenorei, Silene armeria. _Red._ Crimson Coxcomb, Silene pendula, Crimson Dew Plant, _tr._ _Scarlet._ Cacalia coccinea, Flos Adonis, Scarlet Zinnia, Mexican Cuphea. _Lilac and Purple._ Clarkia elegans, Clarkia pulchella, *Purple Candytuft, *Purple Petunia, _tr._, *Crimson Candytuft, Double Purple Jacobæa, Leptosiphon androsaceus, all the varieties of Schizanthus, Veined Verbena, _tr._, *Purple eternal Flower. _Blue._ Ageratum Mexicanum, *Gilia capitata, Spanish Nigella, Blue Eutoca, Dwarf Convolvulus, Didiscus coeruleus. _Lilac, Purple_, or _Blue and White._ Collinsia bicolor, Gilia tricolor. _Very Dark._ Lotus Jacobæus, Salpiglossis, Scabious. _Colors varying._ German Aster, Balsam, Rocket Larkspur, Ten-week Stock, Poppy. EIGHTEEN INCHES TO TWO FEET. _White._ *White Petunia, _tr._, White Clarkia, Double White Jacobæa, Love in a Mist. _Red._ *Lavatera trimestris, Red Zinnia, Malva miniata. _Lilac and Purple._ Globe Amaranthus, Purple Sweet Sultan, Sweet Scabious, Purple Zinnia, Prince's Feather, Large Blue Lupine, *Catchfly. TWO FEET AND UPWARDS. _White._ Winged Ammobium, *White Lavatera, White Sweet Sultan, *New White Eternal Flower, White Helicrysum, *White Larkspur. _Yellow._ Golden Bartonia, *Golden Coreopsis, Yellow Sweet Sultan, African Marigold, Yellow Argemone, French Marigold, Yellow Coxcomb, Yellow Hibiscus. The Malope grandiflora and the Cleome are fine tall annuals. _Climbing Plants._ The following are the most beautiful _annual climbers_: Crimson, and White, Cypress Vine; White, and Buff, Thunbergia; Scarlet Flowering Bean; Hyacinth Bean Loasa; Morning Glory; Crimson, and Spotted, Nasturtium; Balloon Vine; Sweet Pea; Tangier Pea; Lord Anson's Pea; Climbing Cobæa; Pink, and White, Maurandia. The following are the most valuable _perennial climbers_: Sweet-scented Monthly Honeysuckle; Yellow, White, and Coral, Honeysuckles; Purple Glycine; Clematis; Bitter Sweet; Trumpet Creeper. The Everlasting Pea is a beautiful perennial climber. The Climbing Cobæa, and Passion Flower, are also beautiful perennials, but must be protected in Winter. _Perennials._ Those who cannot afford every year to devote the time necessary to the raising of annuals, will do well to supply their borders with perennials. The following is a list of some of those generally preferred. Adonis, yellow; Columbine, all colors; Alyssum, yellow; Asclepias, orange and purple; Bee Larkspur, blue; Perennial Larkspur, all colors; Cardinal Flower, scarlet; Chinese Pink, various colors; Clove Pink; Foxglove, purple and white; Gentian, purple and yellow; Hollyhock, various colors; *Lily of the Valley; American Phlox, various colors; Scarlet Lychnis; Monkshood, white and blue; *Spirea, white, and pink; *Ragged Robin, pink; Rudbeckia, yellow, and purple; Sweet William, in variety. Those marked with a star cannot be obtained from seed, but must be propagated by roots, layers, &c. _Herbaceous Roots._ These are such as die to the root, in the Fall, and come up again in the Spring, such as Pæonies, crimson, white, sweet-scented, and straw-colored; Artemisia, of many colors; White and Purple Fleur-de-lis; White, Tiger, Fire, and other Lilies; Little Blue Iris; Chrysanthemums, &c. These are propagated by dividing the roots. _Shrubs._ The following are the finest _Shrubs for yards_: Lilacs, (which, by budding, can have white and purple on the same tree,) Double Syringas, Double Althæas, Corchorus Japonicus, Snow-berry, Double-flowering Almond, Pyrus Japonica, Common Barberry, Burning Bush, Rose Acacia, Yellow Laburnum. The following are the finest Roses: Moss Rose, White, and Red; Double and Single Yellow Rose, (the last needs a gravelly soil and northern exposure;) Yellow Multiflora; La Belle Africana; Small Eglantine, for borders; Champney's Blush Rose; Noisette; Greville, (very fine;) Damask; Blush, White, and Cabbage Roses. Moss Roses, when budded on other rose bushes, last only three years. _Shade Trees._ The following are among the finest: Mountain Ash; Ailanthus, or Tree of Heaven, (grows very fast;) Tulip Tree; Linden; Elm; Locust; Maple; Dog Wood; Horse Chestnut; Catalpa; Hemlock; Silver Fir; and Cedar. These should be grouped, in such a manner that trees of different shades of green, and of different heights, should stand in the same group. The Autumn is the best time for transplanting trees. Take as much of the root, as possible, especially the little fibres, which should never become dry. If kept long, before they are set out, put wet moss around them, and water them. Dig holes, larger than the extent of the roots; let one person hold the tree in its former position, and another place the roots, carefully, as they were before, cutting off any broken or wounded root. _Be careful not to let the tree be more than an inch deeper than it was before._ Let the soil be soft, and well manured; shake the tree, as the soil is shaken in, that it may mix well among the small fibres. Do not tread the earth down, while filling the hole; but, when it is full, raise a slight mound, of, say, four inches, and then tread it down. Make a little basin, two inches deep, around the stem, to hold water, and fill it. Never cut off leaves nor branches, unless some of the roots are lost. Tie the trees to a stake, and they will be more likely to live. Water them often. _On the Care of House-Plants._ The soil of house-plants should be renewed every year, as previously directed. In Winter, they should be kept as dry as they can be without wilting. Many house-plants are injured by giving them too much water, when they have little light and fresh air. This makes them grow spindling. The more fresh air, warmth, and light, they have, the more water is needed. They ought not to be kept very warm in Winter, nor exposed to great changes of atmosphere. Forty degrees is a proper temperature for plants in Winter, when they have little sun and air. When plants have become spindling, cut off their heads, entirely, and cover the pot in the earth, where it has the morning sun, only. A new and flourishing head will spring out. Few house-plants can bear the sun at noon. When insects infest plants, set them in a closet, or under a barrel, and burn tobacco. The smoke kills any insect enveloped in it. When plants are frozen, cold water, and a gradual restoration of warmth, are the best remedies. Never use very cold water for plants, at any season. FOOTNOTE: [T] His 'Farmers' Companion' was written expressly for the larger series of 'THE SCHOOL LIBRARY,' issued by the publishers of this volume. CHAPTER XXXV. ON THE PROPAGATION OF PLANTS. Bulbous roots are propagated by offsets; some growing on the top, others around the sides. Many plants are propagated by cutting off twigs, and setting them in earth, so that two or three eyes are covered. To do this, select a side shoot, ten inches long, two inches of it, being of the preceding year's growth, and the rest, the growth of the season when it is set out. Do this, when the sap is running, and put a piece of crockery at the bottom of the shoot, when it is buried. One eye, at least, must be under the soil. Water it, and shade it in hot weather. Plants are also propagated by layers. To do this, take a shoot, which comes up near the root, bend it down, so as to bring several eyes under the soil, leaving the top above ground. If the shoot be cut half through, in a slanting direction, at one of these eyes, before burying it, the result is more certain. Roses, honeysuckles, and many other shrubs, are readily propagated thus. They will generally take root, by being simply buried; but cutting them, as here directed, is the best method. Layers are more certain than cuttings. For all woody plants, budding and grafting are favorite methods of propagation. In all such plants, there is an outer and inner bark; the latter containing the sap vessels, in which the nourishment of the tree ascends. The success of grafting, or inoculating, consists in so placing the bud or graft, that the sap vessels of the inner bark shall exactly join those of the plant into which they are grafted, so that the sap may pass from one into the other. The following are directions for _budding_, which may be performed at any time from July to September. Select a smooth place, on the stock into which you are to insert the bud. Make a horizontal cut, across the rind, through to the firm wood; and from the middle of this, make a slit downward, perpendicularly, an inch or more long, through to the wood. Raise the bark of the stock, on each side of the perpendicular cut, for the admission of the bud, as is shown in the annexed engraving, (Fig. 40.) Then take a shoot of this year's growth, and slice from it a bud, taking an inch below and an inch above it, and some portion of the wood under it. Then carefully slip off the woody part, under the bud. Examine whether the eye or gem of the bud be perfect. If a little hole appears in that part, the bud has lost its root, and another must be selected. Insert the bud, so that _a_, of the bud, shall pass to a, of the stock; then _b_, of the bud, must be cut off, to match the cut, b, in the stock, and fitted exactly to it, as it is this alone which insures success. Bind the parts, with fresh bass, or woollen yarn, beginning a little below the bottom of the perpendicular slit, and winding it closely round every part, except just over the eye of the bud, until you arrive above the horizontal cut. Do not bind it too tightly, but just sufficient to exclude air, sun, and wet. This is to be removed, after the bud is firmly fixed, and begins to grow. [Illustration: Fig. 40.] Seed-fruit can be budded into any other seed-fruit, and stone-fruit into any other stone-fruit; but stone and seed-fruits, cannot be thus mingled. Rose bushes can have a variety of kinds budded into the same stock. Hardy roots are the best stocks. The branch above the bud, must be cut off, the next March or April after the bud is put in. Apples and pears, are more easily propagated by ingrafting, than by budding. Ingrafting is a similar process to budding, with this advantage; that it can be performed on large trees, whereas budding can be applied only on small ones. The two common kinds of ingrafting, are whip-grafting, and split-grafting. The first kind is for young trees, and the other for large ones. [Illustration: Fig. 41.] The time for ingrafting, is from May to October. The cuttings must be taken from horizontal shoots, between Christmas and March, and kept in a damp cellar. In performing the operation, cut off, in a sloping direction, (as seen in Fig. 41,) the tree or limb to be grafted. Then cut off, in a corresponding slant, the slip to be grafted on. Then put them together, so that the inner bark of each shall match, exactly, on one side, and tie them firmly together, with woollen yarn. It is not essential that both be of equal size; if the bark of each meet together exactly on _one_ side, it answers the purpose. But the two must not differ much, in size. The slope should be an inch and a half, or more, in length. After they are tied together, the place should be covered with a salve or composition of beeswax and rosin. A mixture of clay and cowdung will answer the same purpose. This last must be tied on with a cloth. Grafting is more convenient than budding, as grafts can be sent from a great distance; whereas buds must be taken in July or August, from a shoot of the present year's growth, and cannot be sent to any great distance. [Illustration: Fig. 42.] This engraving, (Fig. 42,) exhibits the mode called stock-grafting; _a_, being the limb of a large tree which is sawed off and split, and is to be held open by a small wedge, till the grafts are put in. A graft, inserted in the limb, is shown at _b_, and at _c_, is one not inserted, but designed to be put in at _d_, as two grafts can be put into a large stock. In inserting the graft, be careful to make the edge of the inner bark of the graft meet exactly the edge of the inner bark of the stock; for on this, success depends. After the grafts are put in, the wedge must be withdrawn, and the whole of the stock be covered with the thick salve or composition before mentioned, reaching from where the grafts are inserted, to the bottom of the slit. Be careful not to knock or move the grafts, after they are put in. _Pruning._ The following rules for pruning, are from a distinguished horticulturist. Prune off all dead wood, and all the little twigs on the main limbs. Retrench branches, so as to give light and ventilation to the interior of the tree. Select the straight and perpendicular shoots, which give little or no fruit, while those which are most nearly horizontal, and somewhat curving, give fruit abundantly, and of good quality. Superfluous and ill-placed buds may be rubbed off, at any time; and no buds, pushing out after Midsummer, should be spared. In choosing between shoots to be retained, preserve the lowest placed; and, on lateral shoots, those which are nearest the origin. When branches cross each other, so as to rub, remove one or the other. Remove all suckers from the roots of trees or shrubs. Prune after the sap is in full circulation, (except in the case of grapes,) as the wounds then heal best. Some think it best to prune before the sap begins to run. Pruning-shears, and a pruning-pole, with a chisel at the end, can be procured of those who deal in agricultural utensils. _Thinning._ As it is the office of the leaves to absorb nourishment from the atmosphere, they should never be removed, except to mature the wood or fruit. In doing this, remove such leaves as shade the fruit, as soon as it is ready to ripen. To do it earlier, impairs the growth. Do it gradually, at two different times. Thinning the fruit is important, as tending to increase its size and flavor, and also to promote the longevity of the tree. If the fruit be thickly set, take off one half, at the time of setting. Revise in June, and then in July, taking off all that may be spared. One _very large_ apple to every square foot, is a rule that may be a sort of guide, in other cases. According to this, two hundred large apples would be allowed to a tree, whose extent is fifteen feet by twelve. If any person think this thinning excessive, let him try two similar trees, and thin one as directed, and leave the other unthinned. It will be found that the thinned tree will produce an equal weight, and fruit of much finer flavor. CHAPTER XXXVI. ON THE CULTIVATION OF FRUIT. By a little attention to this matter, a lady, with the help of her children, can obtain a rich abundance of all kinds of fruit. The writer has resided in families, where little boys, of eight, ten, and twelve years old, amused themselves, under the direction of their mother, in planting walnuts, chestnuts, and hazelnuts, for future time; as well as in planting and inoculating young fruit-trees, of all descriptions. A mother, who will take pains to inspire a love for such pursuits, in her children, and who will aid and superintend them, will save them from many temptations; and, at a trifling expense, secure to them and herself a rich reward, in the choicest fruits. The information given in this work, on this subject, may be relied on, as sanctioned by the most experienced nursery-men. The soil, for a nursery, should be rich, well dug, dressed with well-decayed manure, free from weeds, and protected from cold winds. Fruit seeds should be planted in the Autumn, an inch and a half or two inches deep, in ridges four or five feet apart, pressing the earth firmly over the seeds. While growing, they should be thinned out, leaving the best ones a foot and a half apart. The soil should be kept loose, soft, and free from weeds. They should be inoculated or ingrafted, when of the size of a pipe stem; and in a year after this, may be transplanted to their permanent stand. Peach trees sometimes bear in two years from budding, and in four years from planting, if well kept. In a year after transplanting, take pains to train the head aright. Straight, upright branches, produce _gourmands_, or twigs bearing only leaves. The side branches, which are angular or curved, yield the most fruit. For this reason, the limbs should be trained in curves, and perpendicular twigs should be cut off, if there be need of pruning. The last of June is the time for this. Grass should never be allowed to grow within four feet of a large tree, and the soil should be kept loose, to admit air to the roots. Trees in orchards should be twenty-five feet apart. The soil _under_ the top soil, has much to do with the health of trees. If it be what is called _hard-pan_, the trees will deteriorate. Trees need to be manured, and to have the soil kept open and free from weeds. _Filberts_ can be raised in any part of this Country. _Figs_ can be raised in the Middle States. For this purpose, in the Autumn, loosen the roots, on one side, and bend the tree down to the earth, on the other; then cover it with a mound of straw, earth, and boards; and early in the Spring raise it up, and cover the roots. _Currants_ grow well in any but a wet soil. They are propagated by cuttings. The old wood should be thinned in the Fall, and manure be put on. They can be trained into small trees. _Gooseberries_ are propagated by layers and cuttings. They are best, when kept from suckers and trained like trees. One third of the old wood should be removed every Autumn. _Raspberries_ do best, when shaded during a part of the day. They are propagated by layers, slips, and suckers. There is one kind, which bears monthly. _Strawberries_ require a light soil and vegetable manure. They should be transplanted in April or September, and be set eight inches apart, in rows nine inches asunder, and in beds which are two feet wide, with narrow alleys between them. A part of these plants are _non-bearers_. These have large flowers, with showy stamens and high black anthers. The _bearers_ have short stamens, a great number of pistils, and the flowers are every way less showy. In blossom-time, pull out all the non-bearers. Some think it best to leave one non-bearer to every twelve bearers; but others pull them all out. Many beds never produce any fruit, because all the plants in them are non-bearers. Weeds should be kept from the vines. When the vines are matted with young plants, the best way is to dig over the beds, in cross lines, so as to leave some of the plants standing in little squares, while the rest are turned under the soil. This should be done over a second time in the same year. _Grapes._ To raise this fruit, manure the soil, and keep it soft, and free from weeds. A gravelly or sandy soil, and a south exposure, are best. Transplant the vines in the early Spring, or, better, in the Fall. Prune them, the first year, so as to have only two main branches, taking off all other shoots, as fast as they come. In November, cut off all of these two branches, except four eyes. The second year, in the Spring, loosen the earth around the roots, and allow only two branches to grow, and every month, take off all side shoots. When they are very strong, preserve only a part, and cut off the rest in the Fall. In November, cut off all the two main stems, except eight eyes. After the second year no more pruning is needed, except to reduce the side shoots, for the purpose of increasing the fruit. All the pruning of grapes, (except nipping side shoots,) must be done when the sap is not running, or they will bleed to death. Train them on poles, or lattices, to expose them to the air and sun. Cover tender vines in the Autumn. Grapes are propagated by cuttings, layers, and seeds. For cuttings, select, in the Autumn, well-ripened wood, of the former year, and take five joints for each. Bury them, till April; then soak them, for some hours, and set them out, _aslant_, so that all the eyes but one shall be covered. _To Preserve Fruit._ Raspberries and Strawberries can be preserved, in perfect flavor, in the following manner. Take a pound of nice sifted sugar for each pound of fruit. Put them in alternate layers, of fruit and sugar, till the jar is entirely full, then cork it, and seal it air tight. Currants and Gooseberries may be perfectly preserved thus. Gather them, when dry, selecting only the solid ones. Take off the stalks, and put them in dry junk-bottles. Set them, _uncorked_, in a kettle of water, and slowly raise it to boiling heat, in order to drive the air out of the bottles. Then take out the bottles, cork them, and seal them air tight. Keep them in a dry place, where they will not freeze. The success of this method depends on excluding air and water. Apples, Grapes, and such like fruit can be preserved, by packing them, when dry and solid, in dry sand or sawdust, putting alternate layers of fruit and sawdust or sand. Some sawdust gives a bad flavor to the fruit. _Modes of Preserving Fruit Trees._ Heaps of ashes, or tanner's bark, around peach trees, prevent the attack of the worm. The _yellows_, is a disease of peach trees, which is spread by the pollen of the blossom. When a tree begins to turn yellow, take it away, with all its roots, before it blossoms again, or it will infect other trees. Planting tansy around the roots of fruit trees, is a sure protection against worms, as it prevents the moth from depositing her egg. Equal quantities of salt and saltpetre, put around the trunk of a peach tree, half a pound to a tree, improves the size and flavor of the fruit. Apply this about the first of April, and if any trees have worms already in them, put on half the quantity, in addition, in June. To young trees, just set out, apply one ounce, in April, and another in June, close to the stem. Sandy soil is best for peaches. Apple trees are preserved from insects, by a wash of strong ley to the body and limbs, which, if old, should be first scraped. Caterpillars should be removed, by cutting down their nests in a damp day. Boring a hole, in a tree infested with worms, and filling it with sulphur, will often drive them off immediately. The _fire-blight_, or _brûlure_, in pear trees, can be stopped, by cutting off all the blighted branches. It is supposed, by some, to be owing to an excess of sap, which is remedied by diminishing the roots. The _curculio_, which destroys plums, and other stone fruit, can be checked only by gathering up all the fruit that falls, (which contains their eggs,) and destroying it. The _canker-worm_ can be checked, by applying a bandage around the body of the tree, and every evening smearing it with fresh tar. CHAPTER XXXVII. MISCELLANEOUS DIRECTIONS. Every woman should know how to direct in regard to the proper care of domestic animals, as they often suffer from the negligence of domestics. The following information, in reference to the care of a horse and cow, may be useful. A stable should not be very light nor very dark; its floor should be either plank or soil, as brick or stone pavements injure the feet. It should be well cleaned, every morning. A horse, kept in a stable, should be rubbed and brushed every day. A stable-horse needs as much daily exercise as trotting three miles will give him. Food or drink should never be given, when a horse is very warm with exercise, as it causes disease. A horse should be fed, three times a day. Hay, sheaf-oats, shorts, corn-meal, and bran, are the best food for horses. When a horse is travelling, order six quarts of oats in the morning, four at noon, and six at night, and direct that neither food nor water be given till he is cool. Keep a horse's legs free from mud, or disease will often result from the neglect. A horse, much used, should be shod as often as once in two months. Fish-oil and strong perfumes, on the skin, keep flies from annoying a horse. Some horses are made fractious by having the check-rein so tight as to weary the muscles. A cow should be watered three times a day, and fed with hay, potatoes, carrots, and boiled corn. Turnips and cabbages give a bad taste to the milk. Give a handful of salt to a cow, twice a week, and occasionally give the same quantity to a horse. Let them drink _pure_ water. A well-fed cow gives double the milk that she will if not fed well. A cow should go unmilked, for two months before calving, and her milk should not be used till four days after. The calf must run with the cow for four days, and then be shut from her, except thrice a day, when it should take as much food as it wants, and then the cow should be milked clean. Hens sit twenty days, and should be well fed and watered, during this time. The first food for chickens should be coarse dry meal. Cold and damp weather is bad for all young fowls, and they should be well protected from it. Pepper-berries are good for fowls which have diseases caused by damp and cold weather. In Winter, much fuel may be saved, and comfort secured, by stuffing cotton into all cracks about the windows and the surbases of rooms, and by listing the doors. Cover strips of wood with baize, and nail them tight against a door, on the casing. The following are the causes of smoky chimneys. Short and broad flues, running up straight, as a narrow flue, with a bend in it, draws best. Large openings, at the top, draw the wind down, and should be remedied, by having the summits made tapering. A house higher than a chimney near it, sometimes makes the chimney smoke, and the evil should be remedied, by raising the chimney. Too large a throat to the fireplace, sometimes causes a chimney to smoke, and can be remedied, by a false back, or by lowering the front, with sheet iron. Shallow fireplaces give out more heat, and draw as well, as deep ones. _House-cleaning_ should be done in dry warm weather. Several friends of the writer maintain, that cleaning paint, and windows, and floors, in _hard_, _cold_ water, without any soap, using a flannel washcloth, is much better than using warm suds. It is worth trying. In cleaning in the common way, sponges are best for windows, and clean water only should be used. They should be first wiped with linen, and then with old silk. The outside of windows should be washed with a long brush, made for the purpose; and they should be rinsed, by throwing upon them water, containing a little saltpetre. When inviting company, mention, in the note, the day of the month and week, and the hour for coming. Provide a place for ladies to dress their hair, with a glass, pins, and combs. A pitcher of cold water, and a tumbler, should be added. When the company is small, it is becoming a common method for the table to be set at one end of the room, the lady of the house to pour out tea, and the gentlemen of the party to wait on the ladies and themselves. When tea is sent round, always send a teapot of hot water to weaken it, and a slop-bowl, or else many persons will drink their tea much stronger than they wish. Let it ever be remembered, that the burning of lights and the breath of guests, are constantly exhausting the air of its healthful principle; therefore avoid crowding many guests into one room. Do not tempt the palate by a great variety of unhealthful dainties. Have a warm room for departing guests, that they may not become chilled before they go out. A parlor should be furnished with candle and fire screens, for those who have weak eyes; and if, at table, a person sits with the back near the fire, a screen should be hung on the back of the chair, as it is very injurious to the whole system to have the back heated. Pretty baskets, for flowers or fruits, on centre tables, can be made thus. Knit, with coarse needles, all the various shades of green and brown, into a square piece. Press it with a hot iron, and then ravel it out. Buy a pretty shaped wicker basket, or make one of stiff millinet, or thin pasteboard, cut the worsted into bunches, and sew them on, to resemble moss. Then line the basket, and set a cup or dish of water in it, to hold flowers, or use it for a fruit-basket. Handsome fireboards are made, by nailing black foundation-muslin to a frame the size of the fireplace; and then cutting out flowers, from wall-paper, and pasting them on the muslin, according to the fancy. India rubber, melted in lamp-oil, and brushed over common shoes, keeps water out, perfectly. Keep small whisk brooms, wherever gentlemen hang their clothes, both up stairs and down, and get them to use them if you can. Boil new earthen in bran-water, putting the articles in, when cold. Do the same with porcelain kettles. Never leave wooden vessels out of doors, as they fall to pieces. In Winter, lift the handle of a pump, and cover it with blankets, to keep it from freezing. Broken earthen and china, can often be mended, by tying it up, and boiling it in milk. _Diamond cement_, when genuine, is very effectual for the same purpose. Old putty can be softened by muriatic acid. Nail slats across nursery windows. Scatter ashes on slippery ice, at the door; or rather, remove it. Clarify impure water with powdered alum, a teaspoonful to a barrel. NOTE. A volume, entitled the _American Housekeeper's Receipt Book_, prepared by the author of this work, under the supervision of several experienced housekeepers, is designed as a Supplement to this treatise on Domestic Economy. The following Preface and Analysis of the Contents will indicate its design more fully: _Preface (for the American Housekeeper's Receipt Book.)_ The following objects are aimed at in this work: _First_, to furnish an _original_ collection of receipts, which shall embrace a great variety of simple and well-cooked dishes, designed for every-day comfort and enjoyment. _Second_, to include in the collection only such receipts as have been tested by superior housekeepers, and warranted to be _the best_. It is not a book made up in _any_ department by copying from other books, but entirely from the experience of the best practical housekeepers. _Third_, to express every receipt in language which is short, simple, and perspicuous, and yet to give all directions so minutely as that the book can be kept in the kitchen, and be used by any domestic who can read, as a guide in _every one_ of her employments in the kitchen. _Fourth_, to furnish such directions in regard to small dinner-parties and evening company as will enable any young housekeeper to perform her part, on such occasions, with ease, comfort, and success. _Fifth_, to present a good supply of the rich and elegant dishes demanded at such entertainments, and yet to set forth so large and tempting a variety of what is safe, healthful, and good, in connexion with such warnings and suggestions as it is hoped may avail to promote a more healthful fashion in regard both to entertainments and to daily table supplies. No book of this kind will sell without an adequate supply of the rich articles which custom requires, and in furnishing them, the writer has aimed to follow the example of Providence, which scatters profusely both good and ill, and combines therewith the caution alike of experience, revelation, and conscience, "choose ye that which is good, that ye and your seed may live." _Sixth_, in the work on Domestic Economy, together with this, to which it is a Supplement, the writer has attempted to secure, in a cheap and popular form, for American housekeepers, a work similar to an English work which she has examined, entitled the _Encyclopædia of Domestic Economy, by Thomas Webster and Mrs. Parkes_, containing over twelve hundred octavo pages of closely-printed matter, treating on every department of Domestic Economy; a work which will be found much more useful to English women, who have a plenty of money and well-trained servants, than to American housekeepers. It is believed that most in that work which would be of any practical use to American housekeepers, will be found in this work and the Domestic Economy. _Lastly_, the writer has aimed to avoid the defects complained of by most housekeepers in regard to works of this description issued in this country, or sent from England, such as that, in some cases, the receipts are so rich as to be both expensive and unhealthful; in others, that they are so vaguely expressed as to be very imperfect guides; in others, that the processes are so elaborate and _fussing_ as to make double the work that is needful; and in others, that the topics are so limited that some departments are entirely omitted, and all are incomplete. In accomplishing these objects, the writer has received contributions of the pen, and verbal communications from some of the most judicious and practical housekeepers, in almost every section of this country, so that the work is fairly entitled to the name it bears of the _American_ Housekeeper's Receipt Book. The following embraces most of the topics contained in this work. Suggestions to young housekeepers in regard to style, furniture, and domestic arrangements. Suggestions in regard to different modes to be pursued both with foreign and American domestics. On providing a proper supply of family stores, on the economical care and use of them, and on the furniture and arrangement of a store-closet. On providing a proper supply of utensils to be used in cooking, with drawings to illustrate. On the proper construction of ovens, and directions for heating and managing them. Directions for securing good yeast and good bread. Advice in regard to marketing, the purchase of wood, &c. Receipts for breakfast dishes, biscuits, warm cakes, tea cakes, &c. Receipts for puddings, cakes, pies, preserves, pickles, sauces, catsups, and also for cooking all the various kinds of meats, soups, and vegetables. The above receipts are arranged so that the more healthful and simple ones are put in one portion, and the richer ones in another. Healthful and favourite articles of food for young children. Receipts for a variety of temperance drinks. Directions for making tea, coffee, chocolate, and other warm drinks. Directions for cutting up meats, and for salting down, corning, curing, and smoking. Directions for making butter and cheese, as furnished by a practical and scientific manufacturer of the same, of Goshen, Conn., that land of rich butter and cheese. A guide to a selection of a regular course of family dishes, which will embrace _a successive variety_, and unite convenience with good taste and comfortable living. Receipts for articles for the sick, and drawings of conveniences for their comfort and relief. Receipts for articles for evening parties and dinner parties, with drawings to show the proper manner of setting tables, and of supplying and arranging dishes, both on these, and on ordinary occasions. An outline of arrangements for a family in moderate circumstances, embracing the systematic details of work for each domestic, and the proper mode of doing it, as furnished by an accomplished housekeeper. Remarks on the different nature of food and drinks, and their relation to the laws of health. Suggestions to the domestics of a family, designed to promote a proper appreciation of the dignity and importance of their station, and a cheerful and faithful performance of their duties. Miscellaneous suggestions and receipts. A GLOSSARY OF SUCH WORDS AND PHRASES AS MAY NOT EASILY BE UNDERSTOOD BY THE YOUNG READER. [Many words, not contained in this GLOSSARY, will be found explained in the body of the Work, in the places where they first occur. For these, see INDEX.] _Academy, the Boston_, an association in Boston, established for the purpose of promoting the study and culture of the art of music. _Action brought by the Commonwealth_, a prosecution conducted in the name of the public, or by the authority of the State. _Alcoholic_, made of, or containing, alcohol, an inflammable liquid, which is the basis of ardent spirits. _Alkali_, (plural _alkalies_,) a chemical substance, which has the property of combining with, and neutralizing the properties of, acids, producing salts by the combination. Alkalies change most of the vegetable blues and purples to green, red to purple, and yellow to brown. _Caustic alkali_, an alkali deprived of all impurities, being thereby rendered more caustic and violent in its operation. This term is usually applied to pure potash. _Fixed alkali_, an alkali that emits no characteristic smell, and cannot be volatilized or evaporated without great difficulty. Potash and soda are called the fixed alkalies. Soda is also called a _fossil_, or _mineral_, _alkali_, and potash, the _vegetable alkali_. _Volatile alkali_, an elastic, transparent, colorless, and consequently invisible gas, known by the name of ammonia, or ammoniacal gas. The odor of spirits of hartshorn is caused by this gas. _Anglo-American_, English-American, relating to Americans descended from English ancestors. _Anne, Queen_, a Queen of England, who reigned from A. D. 1702, to 1714. She was the daughter of James II., and succeeded to the throne on the death of William III. She died, August 1, 1714, in the fiftieth year of her age. She was not a woman of very great intellect; but was deservedly popular, throughout her reign, being a model of conjugal and maternal duty, and always intending to do good. She was honored with the title of 'Good Queen Anne', which showed the opinion entertained of her virtues by the people. _Anotta_, _Annotto_, _Arnotta_, or _Rocou_, a soft, brownish-red substance, prepared from the reddish pulp surrounding the seeds of a tree, which grows in the West Indies, Guiana, and other parts of South America, called the _Bixa orellana_. It is used as a dye. _Anther_, that part of the stamen of a flower which contains the pollen or farina, a sort of mealy powder or dust, which is necessary to the production of the flower. _Anthracite_, one of the most valuable kinds of mineral coal, containing no bitumen. It is very abundant in the United States. _Aperient_, opening. _Apple-corer_, an instrument lately invented for the purpose of divesting apples of their cores. _Arabic, gum_, see _Gum Arabic_. _Archæology_, a discourse or treatise on antiquities. _Arnotto_, see _Anotta_. _Arrow-root_, a white powder, obtained from the fecula or starch of several species of tuberous plants in the East and West Indies, Bermuda, and other places. That from Bermuda is most highly esteemed. It is used as an article for the table, in the form of puddings; and also as a highly-nutritive, easily-digested, and agreeable, food, for invalids. It derives its name from having been originally used by the Indians, as a remedy for the poison of their arrows, by mashing and applying it to the wound. _Articulating process_, the protuberance, or projecting part of a bone, by which it is so joined to another bone, as to enable the two to move upon each other. _Asceticism_, the state of an ascetic, or hermit, who flies from society and lives in retirement, or who practises a greater degree of mortification and austerity than others do, or who inflicts extraordinary severities upon himself. _Astral lamp_, a lamp, the principle of which was invented by Benjamin Thompson, (a native of Massachusetts, and afterwards Count Rumford,) in which the oil is contained in a large horizontal ring, having, at the centre, a burner, which communicates with the ring by tubes. The ring is placed a little below the level of the flame, and, from its large surface, affords a supply of oil for many hours. _Astute_, shrewd. _Auld Robin Gray_, a celebrated Scotch song, in which a young woman laments her having married an old rich man, whom she did not love, for the sake of providing for her poor parents. _Auricles_, (from a Latin word, signifying the ear,) the name given to two appendages of the heart, from their fancied resemblance to the ear. _Baglivi_, (George,) an eminent physician, who was born at Ragusa, in 1668, and was educated at Naples and Paris. Pope Clement XIV., on the ground of his great merit, appointed him, while a very young man, Professor of Anatomy and Surgery in the College of Sapienza, at Rome. He wrote several works, and did much to promote the cause of medical science. He died, A. D. 1706. _Bass_, or bass wood, a large forest tree of America, sometimes called the lime-tree. The wood is white and soft, and the bark is sometimes used for bandages, as mentioned in page 343. _Beau Nash_, see _Nash_. _Bell, Sir Charles_, a celebrated surgeon, who was born in Edinburgh, in the year 1778. He commenced his career in London, in 1806, as a lecturer on Anatomy and Surgery. In 1830, he received the honors of knighthood, and in 1836 was appointed Professor of Surgery in the College of Edinburgh. He died near Worcester, in England, April 29, 1842. His writings are very numerous, and have been much celebrated. Among the most important of these, to general readers, are, his Illustrations of Paley's Natural Theology, (which work forms the second and third volumes of the larger series of 'THE SCHOOL LIBRARY,' issued by the Publishers of this volume,) and his treatise on 'The Hand, its Mechanism, and Vital Endowments, as evincing Design.' _Bergamot_, a fruit, which was originally produced by ingrafting a branch of a citron or lemon tree, upon the stock of a peculiar kind of pear, called the bergamot pear. _Biased_, cut diagonally from one corner to another of a square or rectangular piece of cloth. _Bias pieces_, triangular pieces cut as above mentioned. _Bituminous_, containing _bitumen_, which is an inflammable mineral substance, resembling tar or pitch in its properties and uses. Among different bituminous substances, the names _naphtha_ and _petroleum_ have been given to those which are fluid; _maltha_, to that which has the consistence of pitch; and _asphaltum_, to that which is solid. _Blight_, a disease in plants, by which they are blasted, or prevented from producing fruit. _Blond lace_, lace made of silk. _Blood heat_, the temperature which the blood is always found to maintain, or ninety-eight degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer. _Blue vitriol_, sulphate of copper. See _Sulphate_. _Blunts_, needles of a short and thick shape, distinguished from _Sharps_, which are long and slender. _Bocking_, a kind of thin carpeting, or coarse baize. _Boston Academy_, see _Academy_. _Botany_, (from a Greek word, signifying an herb,) a knowledge of plants; the science which treats of plants. _Brazil wood_, the central part, or heart, of a large tree which grows in Brazil, called the _Cæsalpinia echinata_. It produces very lively and beautiful red tints, but they are not permanent. _Bronze_, a metallic composition, consisting of copper and tin. _Brûlure_, a French term, denoting a burning or scalding; a blasting of plants. _Brussels_, (carpet,) a kind of carpeting, so called from the city of Brussels, in Europe. Its basis is composed of a warp and woof of strong linen threads, with the warp of which are intermixed about five times the quantity of woollen threads, of different colors. _Bulb_, a root with a round body, like the onion, turnip, or hyacinth. _Bulbous_, having a bulb. _Byron_, (George Gordon,) _Lord_, a celebrated Poet, who was born in London, January 22, 1788, and died in Missolonghi, in Greece, April 18, 1824. _Calisthenics_, see page 56, note. _Camwood_, a dyewood, procured from a leguminous (or pod-bearing) tree, growing on the Western Coast of Africa, and called _Baphia nitida_. _Cankerworm_, a worm which is very destructive to trees and plants. It springs from an egg deposited by a miller that issues from the ground, and in some years destroys the leaves and fruit of apple and other trees. _Carbon_, a simple inflammable body, forming the principal part of wood and coal, and the whole of the diamond. _Carbonic acid_, a compound gas, consisting of carbon and oxygen. It has lately been obtained in a solid form. _Carmine_, a crimson color, the most beautiful of all the reds. It is prepared from a decoction of the powdered cochineal insect, to which alum and other substances are added. _Caster_, a small phial or vessel for the table, in which to put vinegar, mustard, pepper, &c. _Chancellor of the Exchequer_, the highest judge of the law; the principal financial minister of a government, and the one who manages its revenue. _Chateau_, a castle, a mansion. _Chemistry_, the science which treats of the elementary constituents of bodies. _Chinese belle_, deformities of. In China, it is the fashion to compress the feet of female infants, to prevent their growth; in consequence of which, the feet of all the females of China are distorted, and so small, that the individuals cannot walk with ease. _Chloride_, a compound of chlorine and some other substance. _Chlorine_ is a simple substance, formerly called oxymuriatic acid. In its pure state, it is a gas, of green color, (hence its name, from a Greek word, signifying green.) Like oxygen, it supports the combustion of some inflammable substances. _Chloride of lime_ is a compound of chlorine and lime. _Cholera infantum_, a bowel complaint, to which infants are subject. _Chyle_, a white juice, formed from the chyme, and consisting of the finer and more nutritious parts of the food. It is afterwards converted into blood. _Chyme_, the result of the first process which food undergoes in the stomach, previously to its being converted into chyle. _Cicuta_, the common American Hemlock, an annual plant of four or five feet in height, and found commonly along walls and fences, and about old ruins and buildings. It is a virulent poison, as well as one of the most important and valuable medicinal vegetables. It is a very different plant from the Hemlock tree, or _Pinus Canadensis_. _Clarke_, (Sir Charles Mansfield,) _Dr._, a distinguished English physician and surgeon, who was born in London, May 28, 1782. He was appointed Physician to Queen Adelaide, wife of King William IV., in 1830, and in 1831, he was created a baronet. He is the author of several valuable medical works. _Cobalt_, a brittle metal, of a reddish-gray color and weak metallic lustre, used in coloring glass. It is not easily melted nor oxidized in the air. _Cochineal_, a color procured from the cochineal insect, (or _Coccus cacti_,) which feeds upon the leaves of several species of the plant called cactus, and which is supposed to derive its coloring matter from its food. Its natural color is crimson; but by the addition of a preparation of potash, it yields a rich scarlet dye. _Cologne water_, a fragrant perfume, which derives its name from having been originally made in the city of Cologne, which is situated on the River Rhine, in Germany. The best kind is still procured from that city. _Comparative anatomy_, the science which has for its object a comparison of the anatomy, structure, and functions, of the various organs of animals, plants, &c., with those of the human body. _Confection_, a sweetmeat; a preparation of fruit with sugar; also a preparation of medicine with honey, sirup, or similar saccharine substance, for the purpose of disguising the unpleasant taste of the medicine. _Cooper, Sir Astley Paston_, a celebrated English surgeon, who was born at Brooke, in Norfolk county, England, August 23, 1768, and commenced the practice of Surgery in London, in 1792. He was appointed Surgeon to King George IV., in 1827, was created a baronet in 1821, and died February 12, 1841. He was the author of many valuable works. _Copal_, a hard, shining, transparent resin, of a light citron color, brought, originally, from Spanish America, and now almost wholly from the East Indies. It is principally employed in the preparation of _copal varnish_. _Copper, sulphate of_, see _Sulphate of copper_. _Copperas_, (sulphate of iron, or green vitriol,) a bright green mineral substance, formed by the decomposition of a peculiar ore of iron, called pyrites, which is a sulphuret of iron. It is first in the form of a greenish-white powder, or crust, which is dissolved in water, and beautiful green crystals of copperas are obtained by evaporation. It is principally used in dyeing, and in making black ink. Its solution, mixed with a decoction of oak bark, produces a black color. _Coronary_, relating to a crown or garland. In anatomy, it is applied to arteries which encompass the heart, in the manner, as it is fancied, of a garland. _Corrosive sublimate_, a poisonous substance, composed of chlorine and quicksilver. _Cosmetics_, preparations which some people foolishly think will preserve and beautify the skin. _Cream of tartar_, see _Tartar_. _Crimping-iron_, an instrument for crimping or curling ruffles, &c. _Curculio_, a weevil or worm, which affects the fruit of the plum tree, and sometimes that of the apple tree, causing the unripe fruit to fall to the ground. _Curvature of the spine_, see pages 80, 81. _Cuvier, Baron_, the most eminent naturalist of the present age, was born, A. D. 1769, and died, A. D. 1832. He was Professor of Natural History in the College of France, and held various important posts under the French Government, at different times. His works on Natural History are of the greatest value. _Cynosure_, the star near the North Pole, by which sailors steer. It is used, in a figurative sense, as synonymous with _pole-star_, or _guide_. _De Tocqueville_, see _Tocqueville_. _Diamond cement_, a cement sold in the shops, and used for mending broken glass, and similar articles. _Drab_, a thick woollen cloth, of a light brown or dun color. The name is sometimes used for the color itself. _Dredging-box_, a box with holes in the top, used to sift or scatter flour on meat, when roasting. _Drill_, (in husbandry,) to sow grain in rows, drills, or channels; the row of grain so sowed. _Duchess of Orleans_, see _Orleans_. The _East_, and the _Eastern States_, those of the United States situated in the north-east part of the Country, including Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Vermont. _Electuary_, a mixture, consisting of medicinal substances, especially dry powders, combined with honey or sirup, in order to render them less unpleasant to the taste, and more convenient for internal use. _Elevation_, (of a house,) a plan, representing the upright view of a house, as a ground-plan shows its appearance on the ground. _Euclid_, a celebrated mathematician, who was born in Alexandria, in Egypt, about two hundred and eighty years before Christ. He distinguished himself by his writings on music and geometry. The most celebrated of his works, is his 'Elements of Geometry,' which is in use at the present day. He established a school at Alexandria, which became so famous, that, from his time to the conquest of Alexandria by the Saracens, (A. D. 646,) no mathematician was found, who had not studied at Alexandria. Ptolemy, King of Egypt, was one of his pupils; and it was to a question of this King, whether there were not a shorter way of coming at Geometry, than by the study of his Elements, that Euclid made the celebrated answer, "There is no royal way, or path, to Geometry." _Equator_, or _equinoctial line_, an imaginary line passing round the earth, from east to west, and directly under the sun, which always shines nearly perpendicularly down upon all countries situated near the equator. _Evolve_, to throw off, to discharge. _Exchequer_, a court in England, in which the Chancellor presides, and where the revenues of, and debts due to, the King are recovered. This court was originally established by King William, (called 'the Conqueror,') who died A. D. 1087; and its name is derived from a checkered cloth, (French _echiquier_, a chess-board, checker-work,) on the table. _Excretion_, something discharged from the body, a separation of animal matters. _Excrementitious_, consisting of matter excreted from the body; containing excrements. _Fahrenheit_, (Gabriel Daniel,) a celebrated natural philosopher, who was born at Dantzic, A. D. 1686. He made great improvements in the thermometer; and his name is sometimes used for that instrument. _Farinaceous_, mealy, tasting like meal. To _Fell_, to turn down, on the wrong side, the raw edges of a seam, after it has been stitched, run, or sewed, and then to hem or sew it to the cloth. _Festivals_, of the Jews, the three great annual. These were, the Feast of the Passover, that of Pentecost, and that of Tabernacles; on occasion of which, all the males of the Nation were required to visit the Temple at Jerusalem, in whatever part of the Country they might reside. See Exodus xxiii. 14, 17, xxxiv. 23, Leviticus xxiii. 4, Deuteronomy xvi. 16. The Passover was kept in commemoration of the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt, and was so named, because, the night before their departure, the destroying angel, who slew all the first-born of the Egyptians, _passed over_ the houses of the Israelites, without entering them. See Exodus xii. The Feast of Pentecost was so called, from a word meaning _the fiftieth_, because it was celebrated on the fiftieth day after the Passover, and was instituted in commemoration of the giving of the Law from Mount Sinai, on the fiftieth day from the departure out of Egypt. It is also called the Feast of Weeks, because it was kept seven weeks after the Passover. See Exodus xxxiv. 22, Leviticus xxiii. 15-21, Deuteronomy xvi. 9, 10. The Feast of Tabernacles, or Feast of Tents, was so called, because it was celebrated under tents or tabernacles of green boughs; and was designed to commemorate their dwelling in tents, during their passage through the wilderness. At this Feast, they also returned thanks to God, for the fruits of the earth, after they had been gathered. See Exodus xxiii. 16, Leviticus xxiii. 34-44, Deuteronomy xvi. 13, and also St. John vii. 2. _Fire blight_, a disease in the pear, and some other fruit trees, in which they appear burnt, as if by fire. It is supposed, by some, to be caused by an insect, others suppose it to be caused by an overabundance of sap. _Fluting-iron_, an instrument for making flutes, channels, furrows, or hollows, in ruffles, &c. _Foundation muslin_, a nice kind of buckram, stiff and white, used for the foundation or basis of bonnets, &c. _Free States_, those States in which slavery is not allowed, as distinguished from Slave States, in which slavery does exist. _French chalk_, a variety of the mineral called talc, unctuous to the touch, of a greenish color, glossy, soft, and easily scratched, and leaving a silvery line, when drawn on paper. It is used for marking on cloth, and extracting grease-spots. _Fuller's earth_, a species of clay, remarkable for its property of absorbing oil; for which reason it is valuable for extracting grease from cloth, &c. It is used by fullers, in scouring and cleansing cloth, whence its name. _Fustic_, the wood of a tree which grows in the West Indies, called _Morus tinctoria_. It affords a durable, but not very brilliant, yellow dye, and is also used in producing some greens and drab colors. _Gastric_, (from the Greek [Greek: gastir], _gaster_, the belly,) belonging or relating to the belly, or stomach. _Gastric juice_, the fluid which dissolves the food in the stomach. It is limpid, like water, of a saltish taste, and without odor. _Geology_, the science which treats of the earth, as composed of rocks and stones. _Gore_, a triangular piece of cloth. _Goring_, cut in a triangular shape. _Gothic_, a peculiar and strongly-marked style of architecture, sometimes called the ecclesiastical style, because it is most frequently used in cathedrals, churches, abbeys, and other religious edifices. Its principle seems to have originated in the imitation of groves and bowers, under which the ancients performed their sacred rites; its clustered pillars and pointed arches very well representing the trunks of trees and their interlocking branches. _Gourmand_, or _Gormand_, a glutton, a greedy eater. In agriculture, it is applied to twigs which take up the sap, but bear only leaves. _Green vitriol_, see _Copperas_. _Griddle_, an iron pan, of a peculiarly broad and shallow construction, used for baking cakes. _Ground-plan_, the map or plan of the lower floor of any building, in which the various apartments, windows, doors, fireplaces, and other things, are represented, like the rivers, towns, mountains, roads, &c., on a map. _Gum Arabic_, a vegetable juice which exudes through the bark of the _Acacia_, _Mimosa nilotica_, and some other similar trees, growing in Arabia, Egypt, Senegal, and Central Africa. It is the purest of all gums. _Hardpan_, the hard, unbroken layer of earth, below the mould or cultivated soil. _Hartshorn_, (spirits of,) a volatile alkali, originally prepared from the horns of the stag or hart, but now procured from various other substances. It is known by the name of ammonia, or spirits of ammonia. _Hemlock_, see _Cicuta_. _Horticulturist_, one skilled in horticulture, or the art of cultivating gardens; horticulture being to the garden, what agriculture is to the farm, the application of labor and science to a limited spot, for convenience, for profit, or for ornament,--though implying a higher state of cultivation, than is common in agriculture. It includes the cultivation of culinary vegetables and of fruits, and forcing or exotic gardening, as far as respects useful products. _Hoskin's gloves_, gloves made by a person named Hoskin, whose manufacture was formerly much celebrated. _Hydrogen_, a very light, inflammable gas, of which water is, in part, composed. It is used to inflate balloons. _Hypochondriasis_, melancholy, dejection, a disorder of the imagination, in which the person supposes he is afflicted with various diseases. _Hysteria_, or _hysterics_, a spasmodic, convulsive affection of the nerves, to which women are subject. It is somewhat similar to hypochondriasis in men. _Ingrain_, a kind of carpeting, in which the threads are dyed in the grain, or raw material, before manufacture. _Ipecac_, (an abbreviation of _ipecacuanha_,) an Indian medicinal plant, acting as an emetic. _Isinglass_, a fine kind of gelatin, or glue, prepared from the swimming-bladders of fishes, used as a cement, and also as an ingredient in food and medicine. The name is sometimes applied to a transparent mineral substance called mica. _Kamtschadales_, inhabitants of _Kamtschatka_, a large peninsula situated on the northeastern coast of Asia, having the North Pacific Ocean on the east. It is remarkable for its extreme cold, which is heightened by a range of very lofty mountains, extending the whole length of the peninsula, several of which are volcanic. It is very deficient in vegetable productions, but produces a great variety of animals, from which the richest and most valuable furs are procured. The inhabitants are in general below the common height, but have broad shoulders and large heads. It is under the dominion of Russia. _Kink_, a knotty twist in a thread or rope. _Lapland_, a country at the extreme north part of Europe, where it is very cold. It contains lofty mountains, some of which are covered with perpetual snow and ice. _Latin_, the language of the Latins, or inhabitants of Latium, the principal country of ancient Italy. After the building of Rome, that city became the capital of the whole country. _Leguminous_, pod-bearing. _Lent_, a fast of the Christian Church, (lasting forty days, from Ash Wednesday to Easter,) in commemoration of our Saviour's miraculous fast of forty days and forty nights, in the wilderness. The word Lent means spring; this fast always occurring at that season of the year. _Levite_, one of the tribe of Levi, the son of Jacob, which tribe was set apart from the others, to minister in the services of the Tabernacle, and the Temple at Jerusalem. The Priests were taken from this tribe. See Numbers i. 47-53. _Ley_, water which has percolated through ashes, earth, or other substances, dissolving and imbibing a part of their contents. It is generally spelled _lie_, or _lye_. _Linnæus_, (Charles,) a native of Sweden, and the most celebrated naturalist of his age. He was born May 13, 1707, and died January 11, 1778. His life was devoted to the study of natural history. The science of botany, in particular, is greatly indebted to his labors. His '_Amoenitates Academicæ_' (Academical Recreations) is a collection of the dissertations of his pupils, edited by himself; a work rich in matters relating to the history and habits of plants. He was the first who arranged Natural History into a regular system, which has been generally called by his name. His proper name was Linné. _Lobe_, a division, a distinct part; generally applied to the two divisions of the lungs. _Log Cabin_, a cabin or house built of logs, as is generally the case in newly-settled countries. _Loire_, the largest river of France, being about five hundred and fifty miles in length. It rises in the mountains of Cevennes, and empties into the Atlantic Ocean, about forty miles below the city of Nantes. It divides France into two almost equal parts. _London Medical Society_, a distinguished association, formed in 1773. It has published some valuable volumes of its Transactions. It has a library, of about 40,000 volumes, which is kept in a house presented to the Society, in 1788, by the celebrated Dr. Lettsom, who was one of its first members. _Louis XIV._, a celebrated King of France and Navarre, who was born Sept. 5, 1638, and died Sept. 1, 1715. His mother having before had no children, though she had been married twenty-two years, his birth was considered as a particular favor from heaven, and he was called the 'Gift of God.' He is sometimes styled 'Louis the Great,' and his reign is celebrated as an era of magnificence and learning, and is notorious as a period of licentiousness. He left behind him monuments of unprecedented splendor and expense, consisting of palaces, gardens, and other like works. _Lumbar_, (from the Latin _lumbus_, the loin,) relating or pertaining to the loins. _Lunacy, writ of_, a judicial proceeding, to ascertain whether a person be a lunatic. _Mademoiselle_, the French word for Miss, a young girl. _Magnesia_, a light and white alkaline earth, which enters into the composition of many rocks, communicating to them a greasy or soapy feeling, and a striped texture, with sometimes a greenish color. _Malaria_, (Italian, _mal'aria, bad air_,) a noxious vapor or exhalation; a state of the atmosphere or soil, or both, which, in certain regions, and in warm weather, produces fever, sometimes of great violence. _Mammon_, riches, the Syrian god of riches. See St. Luke, xvi. 11, 13, St. Matthew, vi. 24. _Martineau_, (Harriet,) a woman who has become somewhat celebrated by her book of travels in the United States, and by other works. _Mexico_, a country situated southwest of the United States, and extending to the Pacific Ocean. _Miasms_, such particles or atoms, as are supposed to arise from distempered, putrefying, or poisonous bodies. _Michilimackinac_, or _Mackinac_, (now frequently corrupted into _Mackinaw_, which is the usual pronunciation of the name,) a military post in the State of Michigan, situated upon an island about nine miles in circuit, in the strait which connects Lakes Michigan and Huron. It is much resorted to by Indians and fur traders. The highest summit of the island is about three hundred feet above the lakes, and commands an extensive view of them. _Midsummer_, with us, the time when the sun arrives at his greatest distance from the equator, or about the twenty-first of June, called, also, the summer solstice, (from the Latin _sol_, _the sun_, and _sto_, _to stop_ or _stand still_,) because, when the sun reaches this point, he seems to stand still for some time, and then appears to retrace his steps. The days are then longer than at any other time. _Migrate_, to remove from one place to another; to change residence. _Mildew_, a disease of plants; a mould, spot, or stain, in paper, cloths, &c., caused by moisture. _Militate_, to oppose, to operate against. _Millinet_, a coarse kind of stiff muslin, formerly used for the foundation or basis of bonnets, &c. _Mineralogy_, a science which treats of the inorganic natural substances found upon or in the earth, such as earths, salts, metals, &c., and which are called by the general name of minerals. _Minutiæ_, the smallest particulars. _Monasticism_, monastic life; religiously recluse life, in a monastery, or house of religious retirement. _Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley_, one of the most celebrated among the female literary characters of England. She was daughter of Evelyn, Duke of Kingston, and was born about 1690, at Thoresby, in England. She displayed uncommon abilities, at a very early age, and was educated by the best masters in the English, Latin, Greek, and French, languages. She accompanied her husband (Edward Wortley Montagu) on an embassy to Constantinople, and her correspondence with her friends was published and much admired. She introduced the practice of inoculation for the smallpox into England, which proved of great benefit to millions. She died at the age of seventy-two, A. D. 1762. _Moral Philosophy_, the science which treats of the motives and rules of human actions, and of the ends to which they ought to be directed. _Moreen_, a kind of woollen stuff used for curtains, covers of cushions, bed hangings, &c. _Mucous_, having the nature of _mucus_, a glutinous, sticky, thready, transparent fluid, of a salt savor, produced by different membranes of the body, and serving to protect the membranes and other internal parts against the action of the air, food, &c. The fluid of the mouth and nose is mucus. _Mucous membrane_, that membrane which lines the mouth, nose, intestines, and other open cavities of the body. _Muriatic acid_, an acid, composed of chlorine and hydrogen, called, also, hydrochloric acid, and spirit of salt. _Mush-stick_, a stick to use in stirring _mush_, which is corn meal boiled in water. _Nankeen_, or _Nankin_, a light cotton cloth, originally brought from Nankin, in China, whence its name. _Nash_, (Richard,) commonly called _Beau Nash_, or King of Bath, a celebrated leader of the fashions in England. He was born at Swansea, in South Wales, October 8, 1674, and died in the city of Bath, (England,) February 3, 1761. _Natural History_, the history of animals, plants, and minerals. _Natural Philosophy_, the science which treats of the powers of Nature, the properties of natural bodies, and their action one upon another. It is sometimes called _physics_. _New-milch cow_, a cow which has recently calved. _Newton_, (Sir Isaac,) an eminent English philosopher and mathematician, who was born on Christmas day, 1642, and died March 20, 1727. He was much distinguished for his very important discoveries in Optics and other branches of Natural Philosophy. See the first volume of 'Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties,' forming the fourteenth volume of 'THE SCHOOL LIBRARY,' Larger Series. _Non-bearers_, plants which bear no flowers nor fruit. _Northern States_, those of the United States situated in the Northern and Eastern part of the Country. _Ordinary_, see _Physician in Ordinary_. _Oil of Vitriol_, (sulphuric acid, or vitriolic acid,) an acid composed of oxygen and sulphur. _Orleans_, (Elizabeth Charlotte de Bavière,) _Duchess of_, second wife of Philippe, the brother of Louis XIV., was born at Heidelberg, May 26, 1652, and died at the palace of St. Cloud, in Paris, December 8, 1722. She was author of several works; among which were, Memoirs, and Anecdotes, of the Court of Louis XIV. _Ottoman_, a kind of hassock, or thick mat, for kneeling upon; so called, from being used by the Ottomans or Turks. _Oxalic acid_, a vegetable acid, which exists in sorrel. _Oxide_, a compound (which is not acid) of a substance with oxygen; for example, oxide of iron, or rust of metals. _Oxidize_, to combine oxygen with a body without producing acidity. _Oxygen_, vital air, a simple and very important substance, which exists in the atmosphere, and supports the breathing of animals and the burning of combustibles. It was called oxygen, from two Greek words, signifying to produce acid, from its power of giving acidity to many compounds in which it predominates. _Oxygenized_, combined with oxygen. _Pancreas_, a gland within the abdomen, just below and behind the stomach, and providing a fluid to assist digestion. In animals, it is called the sweet-bread. _Pancreatic_, belonging to the pancreas. _Parterre_, a level division of ground, a flower garden. _Pearlash_, the common name for impure carbonate of potash, which, in a purer form, is called _Sal æratus_. _Peristaltic_, worm-like. _Philosophy_, see _Intellectual_, _Moral_, and _Natural_. _Physician in Ordinary to the Queen_, the Physician who attends the Queen in ordinary cases of illness. _Pistil_, that part of a flower, generally in the centre, composed of the germ, style, and stigma, which receives the pollen or fertilizing dust of the stamens. _Pitt, William_, a celebrated English statesman, son of the Earl of Chatham. He was born, May 28, 1759, and at the age of twenty-three, was made Chancellor of the Exchequer, and soon afterward, Prime Minister. He died, January 23, 1806. _Political Economy_, the science which treats of the general causes affecting the production, distribution, and consumption, of articles of exchangeable value, in reference to their effects upon national wealth and welfare. _Pollen_, the fertilizing dust of flowers, produced by the stamens, and falling upon the pistils, in order to render a flower capable of producing fruit or seed. _Potter's clay_, the clay used in making articles of pottery. _Prairie_, a French word, signifying _meadow_. In the United States, it is applied to the remarkable natural meadows, or plains, which are found in the Western States. In some of these vast and nearly level plains, the traveller may wander for days, without meeting with wood or water, and see no object rising above the plane of the horizon. They are very fertile. _Prime Minister_, the person appointed by the ruler of a nation to have the chief direction and management of the public affairs. _Process_, a protuberance, or projecting part of a bone. _Pulmonary_, belonging to, or affecting, the lungs. _Pulmonary artery_, an artery which passes through the lungs, being divided into several branches, which form a beautiful network over the air-vessels, and finally empty themselves into the left auricle of the heart. _Puritans_, a sect, which professed to follow the pure word of God, in opposition to traditions, human constitutions, and other authorities. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, part of the Protestants were desirous of introducing a simpler, and, as they considered it, a _purer_, form of church government and worship, than that established by law; from which circumstance, they were called _Puritans_. In process of time, this party increased in numbers, and openly broke off from the Church, laying aside the English liturgy, and adopting a service-book published at Geneva, by the disciples of Calvin. They were treated with great rigor by the Government, and many of them left the kingdom and settled in Holland. Finding themselves not so eligibly situated in that Country, as they had expected to be, a portion of them embarked for America, and were the first settlers of New England. _Quixotic_, absurd, romantic, ridiculous; from _Don Quixote_, the hero of a celebrated fictitious work, written by Cervantes, a distinguished Spanish writer, and intended to reform the tastes and opinions of his countrymen. _Reeking_, smoking, emitting vapor. _Residuum_, the remainder, or part which remains. _Routine_, a round, or course of engagements, business, pleasure, &c. To _Run_ a seam, to lay the two edges of a seam together, and pass the threaded needle out and in, with small stitches, a few threads below the edge, and on a line with it. To _Run_ a stocking, to pass a thread of yarn, with a needle, straight along each row of the stocking, as far as is desired, taking up one loop and missing two or three, until the row is completed, so as to double the thickness at the part which is run. _Sabbatical year_, every seventh year, among the Jews, which was a year of rest for the land, when it was to be left without culture. In this year, all debts were to be remitted, and slaves set at liberty. See Exodus xxi. 2, xxiii. 10, Leviticus xxv. 2, 3, &c., Deuteronomy xv. 12, and other similar passages. _Sal æratus_, see _Pearlash_. _Sal ammoniac_, a salt, called also muriate of ammonia, which derives its name from a district in Libya, Egypt, where there was a temple of Jupiter Ammon, and where this salt was found. _Scotch Highlanders_, inhabitants of the Highlands of Scotland. _Selvedge_, the edge of cloth, a border. Improperly written _selvage_. _Service-book_, a book prescribing the order of public services in a church or congregation. _Sharps_, see _Blunts_. _Shorts_, the coarser part of wheat bran. _Shrubbery_, a plantation of shrubs. _Siberia_, a large country in the extreme northern part of Asia, having the Frozen Ocean on the north, and the Pacific Ocean on the east, and forming a part of the Russian empire. The northern part is extremely cold, almost uncultivated, and contains but few inhabitants. It furnishes fine skins, and some of the most valuable furs in the world. It also contains rich mines of iron and copper, and several kinds of precious stones. _Sinclair, Sir John_, of whom it was said, "There is no greater name in the annals of agriculture, than his," was born in Caithness, Scotland, May 10, 1754, and became a member of the British Parliament in 1780. He was strongly opposed to the measures of the British Government towards America, which produced the American Revolution. He was author of many valuable publications, on various subjects. He died December 21, 1835. _Sirloin_, the loin of beef. The appellation 'Sir' is the title of a knight, or baronet; and has been added to the word 'loin,' when applied to beef, because a King of England, in a freak of good humor, once conferred the honor of knighthood upon a loin of beef. _Slack_, to loosen, to relax, to deprive of cohesion. _Soda_, an alkali, usually obtained from the ashes of marine plants. To _Spade_, to throw out earth with a spade. _Spermaceti_, an oily substance, found in the head of a species of whale, called the spermaceti whale. _Spindling_, see page 124. _Spinous process_, a process or bony protuberance, resembling a spine or thorn, whence it derives its name. _Spool_, a piece of cane or reed, or a hollow cylinder of wood, with a ridge at each end, used to wind yarn and thread upon. _Stamen_, (plural _stamens_ and _stamina_,) in _weaving_, the warp, the thread, any thing made of threads. In _botany_, that part of a flower, on which the artificial classification is founded, consisting of the filament or stalk, and the anther, which contains the pollen, or fructifying powder. _Stigma_, (plural _stigmas_ and _stigmata_,) the summit or top of the pistil of a flower. _Style_, or _Stile_, the part of the pistil between the germ and the stigma. _Sub-carbonate_, an imperfect carbonate. _Sulphates_, _Sulphats_, _Sulphites_, salts formed by the combination of some base with sulphuric acid, as _Sulphate of copper_, (blue vitriol, or blue stone,) a combination of sulphuric acid with copper. _Sulphate of iron_, copperas, or green vitriol. _Sulphate of lime_, gypsum, or plaster of Paris. _Sulphate of magnesia_, Epsom salts. _Sulphate of potash_, a chemical salt, composed of sulphuric acid and potash. _Sulphate of soda_, Glauber's salts. _Sulphate of zinc_, white vitriol. _Sulphuret_, a combination of an alkaline earth or metal with sulphur as, _Sulphuret of iron_, a combination of iron and sulphur. _Sulphuric acid_, oil of vitriol, vitriolic acid. _Suture_, a sewing; the uniting of parts by stitching; the seam or joint which unites the flat bones of the skull, which are notched like the teeth of a saw, and the notches, being united together, present the appearance of a seam. _Tartar_, a substance, deposited on the inside of wine casks, consisting chiefly of tartaric acid and potash. _Cream of tartar_, the crude tartar separated from all its impurities, by being dissolved in water and then crystallized, when it becomes a perfectly white powder. _Tartaric acid_, a vegetable acid which exists in the grape. _Technology_, a description of the arts, considered generally, in their theory and practice, as connected with moral, political, and physical science. _Three great Jewish yearly festivals_, see _Festivals_. _Three-ply_, or triple ingrain, a kind of carpeting, in which the threads are woven in such a manner as to make three thicknesses of the cloth. _Tic douloureux_, a painful affection of the nerves, mostly those of the face. _Tocqueville_, (Alexis de,) a celebrated living statesman and writer of France, and author of volumes on the Political Condition, and the Penitentiaries, of the United States, and other works. _Trachea_, the windpipe, so named (from a Greek word signifying _rough_) from the roughness, or inequalities, of the cartilages of which it is formed. _Truckle-bed_, or _trundle-bed_, a bed that runs on wheels. _Tuber_, a solid, fleshy, roundish root, like the potato. _Tuberous_, thick and fleshy; composed of, or having, tubers. _Tucks_, (improperly tacks,) folds in garments. _Turmeric_, the root of a plant called _Curcuma longa_, a native of the East Indies, used as a yellow dye. _Twaddle_, idle, foolish talk, or conversation. _Unbolted_, unsifted. _Unslacked_, not loosened, or deprived of cohesion. Lime, when it has been slacked, crumbles to powder, from being deprived of cohesion. _Valance_, the drapery or fringe hanging round the cover of a bed, couch, or other similar article. _Vascular_, relating to, or full of, vessels. _Venetian_, a kind of carpeting, composed of a striped woollen warp on a thick woof of linen thread. _Verisimilitude_, probability, resemblance to truth. _Verbatim_, word for word. _Vice versa_, the side being changed, or the question reversed, or the terms being exchanged. _Viscera_, (plural of _viscus_,) organs contained in the abdomen and in the chest. _Vitriol_, a compound mineral salt, of a very caustic taste. _Blue vitriol_, sulphate of copper. _Green vitriol_, see _Copperas_. _Oil of vitriol_, sulphuric acid. _White vitriol_, sulphate of zinc. _Waffle-iron_, an iron utensil for the purpose of baking waffles, which are thin and soft cakes indented by the iron in which they are baked. _Washleather_, a soft, pliable leather, dressed with oil, and in such a way, that it may be washed, without shrinking. It is used for various articles of dress, as under-shirts, drawers, &c., and also for rubbing silver, and other articles having a high polish. The article known, in commerce, as chamois, or shammy, leather, is also called wash-leather. _Welting cord_, a cord sewed into the welt or border of a garment. The _West_, or _Western World_. When used in Europe, or in distinction from the Eastern World, it means America. When used in this Country, the West refers to the Western States of the Union. _Western Wilds_, the wild, thinly-settled lands of the Western States. _White vitriol_, see _Zinc_. _Wilton carpet_, a kind of carpets, made in England, and so called from the place which is the chief seat of their manufacture. They are woollen velvets, with variegated colors. _Writ of lunacy_, see _Lunacy_. _Xantippe_, the wife of Socrates, noted for her violent temper and scolding propensities. The name is frequently applied to a shrew, or peevish, turbulent, scolding woman. _Zinc_, a blueish-white metal, which is used as a constituent of brass, and some other alloys. _Sulphate of zinc_, or _White vitriol_, a combination of zinc with sulphuric acid. INDEX. A. Absorbents of the skin, 93, 119. Accidents and antidotes, 240. Accounts, 174, 186. By girls, 188. Acids, 319. Africans, diet of, 221. Air, evils of the want of pure, 91, 129, 196, 311. Exercise in the, 129, 133. For infants, 217, 218. Of sick-rooms, 237. Dancing in the, 246. _See_ Ventilation. Albany Orphan Asylum, 222. Alcoholic drinks, 107. _See_ Stimulating. Alton, account of the Monticello Female Seminary at, 54. Amaryllis, 335. America, anticipations as to, 36. Conspicuous station of, 36. Changeableness in the conditions in, 40, 46, 48, 257. Labor in, 147. American women, peculiar responsibilities of, 25. Rights and privileges of, 27. Their distinct line of duty, 28, 32, 33. Influence of, on America, 32, 33. Their equality, 33. Fancied wrongs of, 33. Part to be acted by, 36. Influence of, in the world, 37, 38. Difficulties peculiar to, 38; as housekeepers, 39, 151, 204; from delicacy of constitution, 41, 45, 47, 128. Few perfectly healthy, 43. Causes of unhealthy, 43, 128; mental excitement, 43; their sense of their responsibilities, 44; too little outdoor exercise, 44. Bad early training of, 45. Exposures of, in newly-settled countries, 46. De Tocqueville describes, in the West, 46. In the East and in the West, compared, 47. Should oppose the feeling that labor is degrading, 61. Precedence given to, by the other sex, 141. Housekeeping by, 151. Time and money spent by, for the ornamental, 175. _See_ Daughters, Females, Mothers, _and_ Women. Amusements, 244, 250. Anemone, 335. Anger, on silence in, 152. _See_ Temper, _and_ Tones. Animal food, 99, 100. For young children, 220. Nourishment of, 221. _See_ Food. Animals, cruelty to, in sport, 244, 246. Annual flowers, 337. Anthracite coal, 281. Ants, red and black, 323. Anxiety, a countenance of, 149. Appetites, gratification of the, 159, 171, 172. Rule as to, 184. Apple trees, preserving from insects, 350. Apportionment of time, 157, 160, 181. By regular division of work, 162. Jewish, 181. Aristocracy, English, 27, 123. The prejudice of, as to labor, 61, 123. Distinguishing mark of, 123. On aping the, 124. Courtesy of, limited, 139. Manners of democracy and, 146. On economy among the, 194. Domestics of, 205. Arm, muscles of the, 74, 75. Arsenic, poisoning from, 242. Arteries, tying up, 240. Associated charities, 178. Association, in Illinois, for educating poor females, 59. For education at large, 203. Astral lamps, 282. B. Back-door accommodations, 276. Baglivi, on health during Lent, 100. Balls, 247, 248. Bargains, on making, 190, 194. Baskets, 321. For centre tables, 354. Bath, on using the, 120. Bathing infants, 217. _See_ Washing. Bathing-rooms, 276. Beating down prices, 190, 194. Beaumont, Dr., experiments by, on the digestibility of food, 104, _note_. Beauty, effect of exercise on, 132. Bed-bugs, 323. Bedrooms, care of, 311. Beds and bedding, 114, 313, 329. Washing, 287. On making, 314. Beef's-gall, uses of, 286, 289. To prepare, 292. Bell, Sir Charles, on nerves, 129. Benevolence, happiness of, 131. _See_ Charity. Bile, 89. Bituminous coal, 281. Black ants, 323. Black tea, 110. Bleeding at the lungs, 243. Blindness, guarding against, 217, 283. Blisters, on dressing, 238. Blood, details as to the circulation of the, 83. Effect of daylight on the, 124; of exercise, 132. Crowded to the brain, when one is excited, 195. When a cause of mental disease, 196. Stopping, 240, 243. When dancing, 246. _See_ Circulation. Blood-vessels, 81. Blows on the head, 241. Boarding-houses, plan as to expenses of, 186. Boarding schools, curvature of the spine common at, 41. _See_ Female seminaries. Boards for ironing, 294. Body, change and renovation of the, 91. Connection of mind and, 195. _See_ Mind. Boldness in domestics, 209. Bones, described, 69. Books, on teaching domestic economy from, 65. Bosom-boards, 294. Boston, scientific and literary advantages in, 147. Bowels, 235, 237, _note_. Boys, small, made useful, 164. Domestic arts taught to, 164. _See_ Children. Brain, excitement of the, 195. Over-action of the, 197. Breakfast, 103. On late, 127. On the care of, and of dining-rooms, 306. Broadcloths, cleansing, 289. Broken limbs, 240. Brown linens, washing, 288. Bruises, 240. Budding, hints on, 342. Bulbs, 335. Bulwer's novels, 234. Burne, Dr., cited, 235. Burns, treatment of, 241. Buttonholes, 324. Byron, Lord, 200, 201. C. Cakes, keeping till meal time, 223. Calicoes, washing, 286, 287. Ironing, 295. Calisthenics, 56, 247. Candles, 281. To make, 283. Caps for infants, 217. Carpets, hints as to, 302. Carving, 310. Castle building, 199. Cathartics, 235, 237. Catholics, health of, during Lent, 100. Cellars, vegetables in dark, 124. On the care of, 322. Chambers, care of, 311. Couches for, 312. Furniture for, 313. Character, attention to, at school, 58. Dependence of happiness on, 169. Self-denying benevolence of Christ's, 169. Charcoal, 242, 281. Charity, 131. On giving in, 158. Difficulty respecting, 167. General principles respecting, 168. Objects for receiving, 176. For souls of men, 177. By furnishing the poor with means of earning support, 178. Associations for, 178. Indiscriminate bestowal of, 178. Benefit of tracts in distributing, 179. On judging of other people's, 180. Union of, with social enjoyments, 184. Cheap articles, hints on, 190, 194. Children, washing, 121, 122. Living in the dark, 124. Early retiring and rising of, 126. Cultivation of good manners in, 141, 142. Too great familiarity with, 143, 226. Should acknowledge acts of kindness, 143; ask leave to use others' articles, 143; avoid wounding others' feelings, 143. To be taught to keep silence, 145, 230. Do not surround with too many rules, 145. On making allowances for, 154. Waiting on, 163. On making useful, 163, 252. On paying, for services, 164, 230. On giving younger, to older, 165. Precocity in, 198. Eating too often, 223. To be guarded as to honesty, deceit, and running in debt, 232. Sharing fruits and flowers, 251. _See_ Boys, Female, Girls, _and_ Young children. Chimneys, smoky, 352. Christ's character, 169. Christianity, principles of, identical with democratic, 25, 34. Churches, ill-ventilated, 196. Chyle, 89. Converted into arterial blood, 90. From animal and other food, 99. Cincinnati, education in, 148. Circulation, in the skin of infants, 113. Effect of cold on, 113, 118, 119. _See_ Blood. Clark, Dr., on animal diet for very young children, 220. Cleaning carpets, 303. Cleanliness, on realizing the importance of, 118. Of the sick, 238. Cleansing articles, 298. Climbing plants, 339. Closets, of conveniences, 162. Sliding, 278. For washing utensils, 285. In eating-rooms, 306. In kitchens, 322. Clothing and clothes, 112. Deficiency of, 113, 129. Excess of, 114. Rule as to, 114. Flannel, 114, 115. Of men and women, compared, 115. Example of English women as to, 117. On changing, next to the body, 120. Girls buying their own, 188. On inconsistent, 189. On washing, 285. Ironing, 295. Whitening, 296. Cleansing, 298. Coloring, 300. _See_ Dress, _and_ Tight dressing. Coal, 281. Coats, on folding, 315. Cobalt, poisoning from, 242. Cockroaches, 323. Coffee, _see_ Tea. Cold, on exposure to, 113, 118. Effect of, on infants, 114. Cold and hot, food, 103. Drinks, 110. Collecting of specimens, 253. Colleges, on the endowment of, 51. On physicians in, 198. Colors, coloring and, 300. For different complexions, 327. Combe, Andrew, on drinks, 111. On exercising the brain, 199. On infants, 214. On animal food, 221. Complexions, colors for the different, 327. Condiments in food, 99. Constipation, 235, 237, _note_. Constitution, delicacy of, in American females, 41, 45, 47; causes of it, 45, 128. On early attention to the, 49. Duties of wealthy mothers, respecting their children's, 50. Effect of stimulating drinks on the, 107. Conveniences, on providing, 162. For cooking, 319. _See_ Closets. Convivial meetings, on exposures after, 119, 247. Cooking, food made unhealthy by, 99, 101. Conveniences wanted for, 319. Cooper, Sir Astley, cited, 195. Corrosive sublimate, poisoning from, 241. Corsets, 116. Couches, cheap, 312. Courtesy, want of, 137, 141; causes of it, 138, 148. _See_ Democracy. Cows, to take care of, 352. Creeping of infants, 219. Cribs for infants, 218. Crickets, 323. Crockery, 319. Crocus, 335. Crown Imperial, 335. Cruelty in amusements, 244, 246. Crying of infants, 219. Curculios, 351. Currants, 348, 350. Curtains, 302, 304. Curvature, _see_ Spine. Cuts, remedies for, 240. Cutting and sewing, 324, 328. Cuvier, cited, 220. D. Daffodils, 336. Dahlias, 336. Dancing, 245, 246. Daughters, on schooling, 48. On keeping, as domestic assistants, 60. Educated to domestic work, 67. _See_ Female, _and_ Girls. Day, on converting into night, 123. Influence of, on vegetables and blood, 124. Debt, on running into, 232. Democracy, principles of, identical with Christian, 25, 34. Tendencies of, as to the female sex, 27. On progress towards, 34. On what the success of, depends, 36. Of early rising, 123. Courtesy of manners and, 138, 140, 146. Derangement, from over-excitement, 197. Diet, _see_ Food. Difficulties, peculiar to American women, 38. On estimating them justly, 39, 151. Remedies for, 48, 151. Digestion, organs of respiration and, 87. Details respecting, 94. Articles easiest for, 101, 104. Experiments respecting, 104. _Bulk_ of food necessary to, 105. Impeded by bathing, 121. Dining-rooms, care of, 306. Dinner, setting table for, 309. Dirt not healthy, 118. Dish-cloths, 317. Dishes, on washing, 318. Dolls, benefits from, 254. Domestic amusements, 244. Domestic exercise, 128. Domestic Economy, on raising, as a science, 50, 67. Reasons for introducing, into school, 63. On teaching, from books, 65. Indispensable part of education, 134. Domestic education, importance of, in childhood, 48. On early training in, 49, 60, 67. On giving mornings to, 49. In the Monticello Female Seminary, 54. Should alternate with studies, 60. Sufferings for want of, 63. Many mothers unqualified to teach, 65. Dignity of, 67, 135. Domestics, peculiar difficulties as to, in America, 40, 204. Duties to be done by daughters, and not by, 50. Blessing of a dearth of, 50. Without, 64. On making allowances for, 154, 210, 212. Care of, 204. Of aristocratic lands, 205. Placing ourselves in their situation, 205, 206. Exorbitant wages of, 205. Instability and discontent of, and the remedy, 206. Pride and insubordination of, and the remedy, 207, 208. On calling them _servants_, 207. Admitted to the table, 209. Bold and forward, 209. Dress and rooms of, 209, 210. Deficiencies of, and the remedies, 210. Getting away, 211. Finding fault with, 211. Patience with, 212. Regard to, in construction of houses, 261. Beds for, 315. Doors, outside, 260, 263. Dress, too much attention to, 166. Inconsistency in, 189. Of domestics, 209. _See_ Clothing. Dresses, for the domestic duties of school girls, 55. Colors for, 327. _See_ Clothing. Drink, during meal-time, 103. Drinks, on healthful, 106. Drowning, 241. Dumb-waiters, 278, 306. Dusting, 304, 306. Duties, enjoyments connected with, 183. E. Early rising, 122. Democratic, 123. Reasons for, 124. Time for, 126. Longevity and, 126. Effects of, on a family, 126; on the community, 127; on systematic duty, 166. Earthen ware, 319. Eating, intemperance in, 94, 95. At any time, 96. Too fast, 101. Should not be followed by exercise, 102; nor bathing, 121. _See_ Food. Eating-rooms, care of, 306. Economy, on domestic, 152. Extravagance changed for, 176. Contradictory ideas as to, 185. General principles as to, 186. Relative obligations of rich and poor as to, 191. Neglect as to, 193. Of the aristocracy, 194. Education in America, 147. Associations for, 203. _See_ Female, _and_ Monticello. Employment, for the different divisions of a week, 162. On regular, for all the family, 163. Enjoyments, _see_ Amusements, _and_ Happiness. Equality, on democratic, 25. _See_ Democracy, Sexes, _and_ Women. Establishments, expensive, given up, 176. Exercise, comparative, of American women and others, 44. Neglect of, 50, 244. Method for securing, at the Monticello Female Seminary, 54. Indispensable to the health of the several parts of the human frame, 73, 97. Of the muscles, 76, 78, 97, 116, 128, 129. Effect of want of, on the spine, 78, 80. Food to be graduated by, 97. After eating, bad, 102. Evils of want of, 129. On furnishing interesting, 131. Walking for, 131. In useful employments, 131. Excessive, 132. Rule as to, 133. On excessive, of the mind and feelings, 197. Of the brain, 199. Exhalations from the skin, 92. Expenses, on keeping account of, 173, 174. Economy in, 185, 193. On graduating, by the income, 186. On gentility in being careless of, 193. On extravagance in, 194. _See_ Economy. Eyes, screening, from light, 217, 283. F. Family, on early rising in the, 126. Fathers neglecting the, 255. On attachments of, 256. Fasting in sickness, 235. Fathers neglecting home, 255. Fault-finding, 211. Featherbeds, 114, 313. Feelings, inactivity of the, 199. Feet, on protecting the, 115, 117, 129. Keeping those of infants, warm, 217. Bathing, for a cold, 235. Female association for educating poor females, 59. Female education, advantages for, in America, 43. Objects to be attended to, in, 48, 49. Importance of mathematics in, 56. Should be conducted by females, 58. Present waste in conducting, 60. _See_ School. Female seminaries, on the endowment of, 51. Importance of, 52. Defects of, 53. Suitable, 53. Monticello Female Seminary, described, 54. Division of labor and responsibility in, 58. Requirement for admission to the Monticello, 59. On providing, 61, 68. Reasons for introducing the study of domestic economy into, 63. Establishment of, by a wealthy female, 202. Should have gardens, 251. Females, influence of, on the character of the young, 37. Building schoolhouses, 202. _See_ American women, Girls, _and_ Women. Filberts, 348. Finding fault, 211. Finger nails, 122, 144. Fire, escaping from, 243. Fireplaces and fires, 260, 265, 280, 311. Fishing, 244. Flannel, 114. Utility of, 115. On washing, 285, 286. Fleas, 323. Flies, on destroying, 323. Flower baskets, 354. Flower seeds, on planting, 332. Flowers, 251, 335. Arranging, 337. Fluids, on taking, 103, 104. Folding articles, 315. Follicles of the skin, 93. Food, on the conversion of, into nourishment, 87. Responsibility as to, in a family, 94. On taking too much, 94, 95, 128. On one kind of, for each meal, 95. Should be taken at proper times, 96. Strong laboring men need most, 96. Quantity of, to be graduated by exercise, 97. On the quality of, 98. Stimulating, 99. Animal and vegetable, 99, 100, 220, 221. Kinds of, most easily digested, 101, 104, 105. Injurious, from bad cooking, 101. On eating, too fast, 101, 128. On exercise after taking, 102. On hot and cold, 103. Highly concentrated, 104. Certain _bulk_ of, necessary to digestion, 105. For infants, 214, 216. For nurses, 215. Sickness from improper, 235. Preparing, for the sick, 239. Footstools, 303. Foreigners, employed as domestics, 40. Forewarning domestics, 211. Forwardness of domestics, 209. Franklin, Benjamin, diet of, 222. Frocks, to make, 326. Fruit, on the cultivation of, 251, 347. To preserve, 350. Fuel, hints as to, 280. Furnaces, 260, _note_. Furniture, on costly, 163, 167. On inconsistent, 188. On selecting, 302. Packing of, for moving, 316. Kitchen, 319. G. Games of children, 253. Garden seeds, to plant, 333. Gardening, 331. Gardens, at female institutions, 251. On laying out, 334. Gas, antidote for, 242. Gastric juice, 88, 94. Gathering, in shirts, 325. Girls, on sending, to school, 48, 60. Should assist their mothers early, 49. Education of, at the Monticello Female Seminary, 54. Confinement of, in school, 133. Small, made useful, 164. Forming habits of system, 167; of making purchases and keeping accounts, 188. Effects of excitement on, 197. Taking care of infants by, 214. _See_ Daughters, _and_ Females. Gladiolus, 335. Gloves, cleansing, 298. Godfrey, Benjamin, Female Seminary endowed by, 54. Gooseberries, 348, 350. Gothic cottage, 271. Government of children, 226. Unsteadiness in, and over-government, 228. Maxims on, 229. _See_ Children, Subordination, _and_ Young children. Grafting, 344. Grapes, 349, 350. Grates, 281. Gratifications, on physical, 159, 171, 172. Grease-spots, 289, 297, 298. In carpets, 304. Greeks and Romans, bathing by, 120. H. Habit, in a system of duty, 166. Handkerchiefs, cleansing, 298. Happiness, dependence of, on character, 169. On living to make, 169, 200. Connected with duties, 183. Hard-soap, to make, 291. Head, blows on the, 241. Headache, 78, 95. Health, delicacy and infrequency of, in American women, 41, 45. Effect of mental excitement on 43; of a high sense of responsibility, &c., 44; of want of outdoor exercise, 44; of bad early training, 45; of exposures in newly-settled countries, 46. On preparation for a _rational_ care of, in a family, 68, 69. Connection of exercise and, 73, 76, 78, 97, 133; of the quantity of food and, 94, 95, 100; of the quality, 98. Of Catholics during Lent, 100. Not from dirt, 118. Effect of early rising on, 125. On the duty of sacrificing, 159. Causes which injure the mind's, 196. Amusements and, 245. Laughter and, 253. Regard to, in constructing houses, 260. Ventilation and, 311. Connection of, with cellars, 322. _See_ Air, Exercise, _and_ Sickness. Hearths, 305. Hearts, different, 84. Cause of their throbbing, 90. Heat of the body, regulated by the skin, 92. Heating houses, 260. Help, _see_ Domestics. Helping at table, 310. Herbaceous roots, 339. Horse-racing, 245, 246. Horses, care of, 351. Hose, on washing, 286, 289. Hospitality, on manifesting, 144. To strangers, 257. Hot and cold food and drinks, 103, 110. Hot-beds, 331. House-cleaning, 353. Housekeepers, difficulties peculiar to American women as, 30. Preservation of good temper in, 148, 150. Allowances to be made for, 150. Necessity of a habit of system and order in, 157. General principles for, 158. Plans by, for saving time, 184. _See_ American women. Housekeeping, on a knowledge of, 134. Dignity and difficulty of, 150, 157. _See_ Labor. House-plants, to repot, 333. Care of, 341. Houses, on the construction of, 258. Regard to economy of labor in, 258; to water, 259, 275; to heating, 260; to economy of health, 260; to domestics, 261; to good taste, 261. Plans of, and of domestic conveniences, 261. Shade-trees around, 275. Back-door accommodations to, 276. Hunger, 94, 132. As a guide for taking food, 97. Hunting, 244. Hyacinths, 335. I. Illinois, female association in, for educating poor females, 59. _See_ Alton. Imagination, 199. Works of, 249. _See_ Novel reading. Impostors, soliciting charity, 178. Impurity of thought, 233. Income, _see_ Expenses. Indigestion, 101. _See_ Health. Infants, mortality among, 112, 114, 214. Too cold, 113. Plunging, in cold water, 113. Registrations of, 113. On giving, to the older children, 165. Use of, to elicit charity, 179. Importance of knowing how to take care of, 213. Combe, Bell, and Eberle on, cited, 214. Food for, 214, 216, 218. Medicines for, 215, 216, 218, 219. Pure air for, 217, 218. Keeping warm, 217, 218. Keeping their heads cool, 217. Bathing, 217, 218. Nostrums for, 219. Unquiet, 219. To creep, 219. Standing, 219. Crying, 219. _See_ Children, _and_ Mortality. Ingrafting, 344. Ink-stains, 298. Insects, on destroying, 323. Preserving apple trees from, 350. Institutions, _see_ Female seminaries, _and_ School. Intelligence, dependence of democracy on, 36. Intemperance, H. Martineau on, criticized, 30, _note_. In eating, 94, 95. In drinking, 106. Female responsibility as to, 106. Invitations, 353. Ironing, articles to be provided for, 293. Settee for, 293. Boards for, 294. Hints on, 295. Iron-ware, 319. J. Jewish use of time, 182. Jokes, 253. Jonquilles, 335. K. Kitchens, 163, 259. On taking care of, 317. Floors of, 317. Oilcloths for, 317. Furniture for, 319. Knitting, to employ time, 185. Knives and forks, 307. L. Labelling powders, 239. Labor, nobility of, 55, 147. On opposing the idea of the degradation of, 61, 123, 124. Not inconsistent with delicacy, 62. On economy of, in houses, 258. Laces, doing up of, 292. Lamps, 281. Care of, 282. Laplanders and their food, 220. Lard, used for oil, 281. Latticed portico, 277. Laughter, 253. Laws, necessity of a system of, 25. Leghorn hats, 299. Lent, health during, 100. Ley, to make, 290. Life, object of, 168. Light, effects of, 124. Screening eyes from, 217, 283. Lightning, 243. Lightning rods, 243. Lights, 281. Limbs of trees, on training, 348. Linens, 288, 328. Linnæus, cited, 220. Liquids, on taking, 103, 104. Literature, guarding, 249. Longevity, Sinclair on, 126. From vegetable diet, 221. Louis XIV., manners of his age, 148. Lungs, 89. Effects of tight-dressing on the, 90, 117. Bleeding at the, 243. Luxuries, _see_ Superfluities. M. Mahogany furniture, 305. Manners, good, 136. American defect in, and cause of it, 137. Of the Puritans and their posterity, 137. Principles respecting, 140. Proprieties in, 141. On cultivation of, 141. At home, 142. Leading points as to, claiming attention, 142. Children to be taught, 143. On conventional, 144. At table, 144. Charity for bad, 145. Of the age of Louis XIV., 148. _See_ Children. Marble, stains on, 305. Martineau, Harriet, criticized, 30, _note_, 141, _note_. Mathematics, importance of, in a female education, 56. Mattresses, 312, 329. Meals, should be five hours apart, 96. On the nature of the, 103. Time of English, 123. Meat, on eating, 99, 100. _See_ Animal food, _and_ Food. Mechanical amusements, 254. Medical men needed in literary institutions, 198. Medicines, on giving, to infants, 215. On administering, 236, 238. Different effects of different, 236. On purchasing, 239. Labelling, 239. Men, engaged in women's work, 164, 165. Mending, 330. Mental excitement, effect of, on health, 43. On reducing youthful, 48, 49. On invigorating, 56. Effect of, on the mind, 197. _See_ Mind. Mexicans, teeth of, 110. Mice, 323. Mildew, removing, 296. Milk, for infants, 216, 217. Milkweed-silk, 227. Mind, connection of body and, 195. Causes which injure the health of the, 196. On inactivity of, 199. Indications of diseased, 204. _See_ Health, _and_ Mental excitement. Mineralogical collections, 253. Modesty in children, 233. Money, children's earning, 164. Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, cited, 135. Monticello Female Seminary, account of, 54. System of studies there, 57. Effort made there to cure defects of character and habits, 58. Morals, American, 29. Dependence of democracy on, 36. Attention to, in the Monticello Female Seminary, 58. In children, 233. _See_ Children, _and_ Young children. Mortality, among infants, 112, 114. Causes of it, 214. At the Albany Orphan Asylum, 222. _See_ Infants. Mothers, sufferings of American, 42. The great objects for, in educating their daughters, 48. Influence of wealthy, 50. Should raise the science of domestic economy, 51. Few, qualified to teach domestic economy, 65. Influence of, 149, 151. Teaching boys domestic arts, 164. _See_ American women, _and_ Women. Moths, 323. Muscles, 74. Exercise of the, 76, 78, 97, 116, 129. Excessive exercise of, 132. Music, 58, 252. Muslins, on washing, 288. Starching, 292. Musquitoes, 323. N. Nails, cleaning, 122, 144. Nankeens, on washing, 288. Napkins, table, 307. Narcissus, 335. Nash, Beau, biography of, 148. Neatness, in housekeeping, 152. Of sick-rooms, 238. _See_ Cleanliness. Needle-work, bad economy in, 189. Nerves, 76. Ramifications of the, 78. Health of, dependent on muscular exercise, 78, 130. Function of, in the stomach, 87. Excited by stimulating drinks, 106, 111. Two kinds of, 129. On cutting off, 130. Exercise and inactivity of, 130. Debility of, 130, 199. New Englanders, one cause of their tact, 165. Newton, Sir Isaac, diet of, 222. Night, converting, into day, 123. Nightgowns, 114, 329. Night-lamps, 283. Novel reading, 199, 234, 249. Nursery, discipline of the, 224, 230. Nursery, soil for a, 347. Nursing, on food while, 215. Of the sick, 237. O. Obedience of children, 226. _See_ Children, _and_ Government. Objects of charity, 176. Oil, 281. Taking out, 297. Oilcloths, for kitchens, 317. Opium, absorbed by the skin, 93. Antidote for, 242. Order, on a habit of, 157. Ornaments, 166. Time and money spent for, 175, 259. Orphan Asylum at Albany, 222. Ostrich feathers, washing, 299. Outhouses, 276. Over-government, 228, 229. _See_ Children, _and_ Government. P. Packing, of trunks, 316. Of furniture for moving, 316. Pain, amusements causing, 244. Paint-spots, 298. Pantaloons, on mending, 330. Parents, exercising of authority by, 226. Should provide amusements, 250. Joining in children's sports, 254. Parlors, kitchens and, 163, 259. Light work in, to save time, 184. Inconsistently furnished, 189. On the care of, 302. On selecting furniture for, 302. Sweeping, 305. Screens in, 353. Parties, invitations to, 353. Passions, the, 170. _See_ Temper. Peach trees, 350. Perennial plants, 339. Peristaltic motion, 87, 96, 102. Perspiration, 92, 93. Demands supply of food, 96. From exercise, healthful, 114. During sleep, 126. On inducing, 235, 236. Physical education, _see_ Exercise, _and_ Health. Physicians, obeying, 239. Piano, playing on the, 252. Pictures, 302, 304. Pills, 236, 237, _note_. Pitch, on removing, 297. Plans, for apportioning time, 158, 160. For duties, 162, 166, 167. For saving time, 184. For expenses, 186. Of houses, 261. Planting flower seeds, 332. Plants, collecting, 253. In rooms with stoves, 281. Soil for, 331. Propagation of, 341. _See_ Flowers, _and_ Seeds. Poisoning, 241. Politeness, _see_ Courtesy, _and_ Manners. Poor, Mosaic laws as to the, 182. On work for the, 189, 190. Liberal prices and prompt payment to the, 191. _See_ Charity. Pores, closing the, 119. _See_ Skin. Portico, latticed, 277. Positions, effects of, 73, 80. Potash-soap, 291. Pot-plants, soil for, 331. Pots, transplanting from, 333. Powders, labelling, 239. Precocity in children, 198. Privies, 276. Propagation of plants, 341. Propensities, 170. Property, Jews' use of, 182. Unequal distribution of, 191. On sharing, 191. On using, properly, 193. Pruning, 346. Pumps, 275. Punctuality, and want of it, 128. In paying the poor, 191. Purchases, on making, 193, 194. Puritans, manners of the, 137. Q. Quality of food, 98. Quantity of food, _see_ Food. R. Ranunculus, 335. Rats, 323 Red ants, 323. Registrations of births, 113. Religion, perversion of, 198. Religious excitement, 197. Respect, American want of, 139, 141. Should be required at home, 142. _See_ Courtesy. Respiration, organs of, 87. Rewards, governing by, 230. Roman Catholics, health of, during Lent, 100. Romans, _see_ Greeks. Rooms, arrangement of, 259. Running into debt, 232. S. St. Martin, Alexis, experiments on, respecting food, 104. Salary, plan as to using, 186. Salt, for bleeding, 243. Salts, 236. School, hints on, 48, 223. Too much required in, 49. On keeping, only in the afternoon, 49. On sending young children to, 223. Schoolrooms and schoolhouses, 133. Not ventilated, 196, 223. Built by a lady in the West, 202. _See_ Female. Scolds, 149, 154. Scotch Highlanders, 221. Screens, in parlors, 353. _See_ Eyes. Secret vice, 233. Sedgwick, Miss, her Live and Let Live, 213, _note_. Seeds, on planting, 332, 333. Of fruit, on planting, 347. Self-denial, happiness of, 169. Distinction as to, 170. Of wealthy women, 201, 202. In children, 224, 232. Servants, on calling domestics, 207. _See_ Domestics. Services, paying children for, 164. Settees for ironing, 293. Setting tables, 307. Rules for, 308. Sewing, by girls, 254. Hints on. 324. Sewing-trunks, 162. Sexes, M. De Tocqueville on the, 28. Distinct lines of action for the, 28, 32, 33. American equality of, 33. Shade-trees, 275, 340. Shells, collecting, 253. Shirts, folding, 315. Making, 328. Shrubs, for yards, 340. Sickness, on ignorance and inexperience in time of, 68. On nursing in, 237. From chills and food, 239. Remedies for slight, 240. _See_ Health. Sick-rooms, hints on, 237. Furniture for, 238. Silence, children to keep, 145, 230. When in anger, 152. Silks, on cleansing, 298. Sinclair, Sir John, on longevity and early rising, 126. Sinks, 277, 317. Six Weeks on the Loire, cited, 135. Skeleton, cut of the, 70. Skin, described, 91. Function of the, 91. Waste matter from the, 92, 118. Regulates the heat of the body, 92. Absorbent vessels of the, 93, 119. Follicles of the, 93. The organ of touch, 93. Circulation in the, in infants, 113. Effect of cold on the circulation in the, 113, 118, 119. Bathing infants', 217. Sleep, amount of, required, 125. On protracting, 126. In close apartments, 196, 217, 311. _See_ Ventilation. Sliding closets, 278. Smoky chimneys, 352. Snow, bathing in, 121. Soap, soda, 288. Soft, 290. Potash, 291. Hard, 291. Social intercourse, 184. Soda-soap, 288. Soda-washing, 287. Soil, on the preparation of, 331. For a nursery, 347. Soups, 104, 105. South-Sea Islanders, 221. Specimens, collecting, 253. Spine, frequency of the disease of the, 41; causes, 73, 133. Cut of the, 77. Curvature of the, 80. Difference between a natural and distorted, 80. Spitting on carpets, 144. Spots, removing, 289, 297, 298. Sprains, 240. Stain-mixture, 296. Stains, removing, from clothes, 296; from marble, 305. Starch, to make, 291. To prepare, 292. Starching, hints on, 292. Stimulating drinks, no need of, 106, 109, 111. Excite the nervous system, 106, 109, 111. Debilitate the constitution, 107. Temptation from using, 107. Five forms of using, 107. Reasons for using, considered, 107. Dr. Combe on, 111. If good for parents, may not be for children, 111. Compared with animal food, 112. Stimulating food, 99. _See_ Animal food, _and_ Food. Stock-grafting, 345. Stockings, on washing, 286, 289. Stomach, 87. Peristaltic motion of the, 87, 96, 102. Effects on, of too much food, 94, 95. Rule for the labor and repose of the, 96. Power of accommodation in the, 102. Wants rest, 223. Storerooms, 271, 322. Stoves, 281. Strangers, hospitality to, 257. Strawberries, 348. Straw hats, 299. Straw matting, 304, 311. Studies, at the Monticello Female Seminary, 57. Pursued at random, 60, 68. Subordination, social, 26. Female, in America, 27, 29, 32. Of children and others, 140, 224. _See_ Government. Superfluities, 163. Duty as to, 171-173. On determining respecting, 173. Sweeping, 134. Of carpets, 303. Of parlors, 305. Sympathy, on silent social, 149. System, continual change and renovation of the human, 91. In housekeeping, 152. On habits of, 155. By dividing the week, 162. In proper conveniences, 162. On attempting too much, at once, 166. On commencing, while young, 167. In time, 184. T. Table, furniture for a, 306. On setting, 307; rules for, 308. Carving and helping at, 310. Table manners, 144. Table-mats, 306. Tapers, 283. Tar, on removing, 297. Tea, coffee and, on the use of, 107, 108. Cause nervous debility, 109. Love of, not natural, 109. If good for adults, may not be for children, 109. Black, least injurious, 110. No nourishment in, 112. _See_ Stimulating. Teachers, 202, 203. Teeth, effects of hot drink on, 110. Care of, 122, 144. Teething of infants, 219. Temper, on the preservation of good, in a housekeeper, 148; hints for it, 150. Making allowances for, in others, 154. _See_ Passions. Temptations, amusements with, 245, 248. Tendons, 75. Theatres, 245. Thinning plants, 346. Thoughts, on pure, 233. Throat, things in the, 240. Thunderstorms, 243. Tic douloureux, 78. Tight dressing, 80, 90, 129. Evils of, 116. Rule as to, 117. Time, on apportioning, 157, 160, 181, 184. On saving, 161, 184. Errors as to employing, 180. Devoted by Jews to religion, 183. Tin ware, 320. Tocqueville, M. De, on the sexes in America, 28. On progress in nations towards democracy, 34. On female hardships in the West, 46. On aristocratic and democratic manners, 146. Tones of voice, 148. On governing the, 152. Governing by angry, 230. Effects of angry, on children, 231. Towels, 321. Tracts and charity, 179. Transplanting, 333, 340. Travelling-bags, 316. Trees, about houses, 275. On planting, 334. Shade, 340. On transplanting, 340. Pruning and thinning, 346. Trials, _see_ Difficulties. Trunks, sewing, 162. In chambers, 313. Packing of, 316. Tuberous roots, 335. Tulips, 336. Turpentine, on removing, 297. U. Unbolted flour, 105. V. Vegetable food, 99, 100, 220, 221. _See_ Animal food, _and_ Food. Vegetables, effect of light and darkness on, 124. Veils, whitening, 293. Ventilation, importance of, 49, 196, 217, 311. Of sleeping-rooms, 129, 196, 311. Of schoolrooms, 223. Of sick-rooms, 237. In construction of houses, 261, 264. Where stoves are used, 281. _See_ Air. Vermin, on destroying, 323. Vertebræ, 72. Virtue, _see_ Morals. Vulgar habits, 144. W. Wadsworth's cottage, 273, 274. Wages, exorbitant, of domestics, 205. Offering higher, 211. Waiting at table, 309. Walking for exercise, 131. Wardrobes, 312. Washing, of clothes done by pupils, 55. Of the body, 92, 93, 119, 121. Of children, 121, 122. Water for, 284. Articles to be provided for, 284. Common mode of, 285. Of calicoes, 287. Soda-washing, 287. Of various articles, 288. Of carpets, 304. Of dishes, 318. _See_ Bathing. Wash-pans for children, 121. Waste matter, from the skin 92, 118. Water, protection against, in the skin, 93. On drinking, 111. Drinking too much, 112. Plunging infants in cold, 113. _See_ Drinks, _and_ Stimulating. Wealthy mothers, influence of their example, 49. Wells, remedy for air in, 242. Remarks on, 259, 275. West, on female hardships in the, 46. Wheat, unbolted, 105. Whitening, of lace veils, 293. Of other articles, 296. Whitewashing, 279. Wicks, 282. Winter, air and sleep in, 125. Women, European contempt for, 30. American esteem for, 30. Influence of, on individuals and nations, 37. Exercise taken by English, 45. Responsibleness of, 52. Eating without being hungry, 98. Responsibility of, as to intemperance, 106. Precedence given to, in America, 141. Importance and difficulty of their duties, 155. General principles for, 158; frequent inversion of them, 160. Men engaged in their work, 164, 165. On their keeping accounts of expenditures, 173, 174. Imagining themselves domestics, 205. _See_ American women. Wood, for fuel, 280. Wooden ware, 321. Woodhouses, 273, 276, 277. Woollens, on washing, 289. Workbaskets, 325. Y. Yellows, the, 350. Young children, female influence on their character, 37. Mismanagement of, 43. Management of, 42, 220. Animal food for, 220. At the Albany Orphan Asylum, 222. Intellectual and moral training of, 223. Three habits for, 224. On distancing, 226. On appreciating their enjoyments and pursuits, 227. Keeping them happy, 231. On ridiculing, 231. Modesty and propriety in, 233. Impurity of thought in, 233. Young Ladies' Friend, cited, 134. 
34097	----	HOUSEHOLD ORGANIZATION. BY MRS. CADDY. "From my tutor I learnt endurance of labour, and to want little, and to work with my own hands."--EMPEROR MARCUS AURELIUS. LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1877. PREFACE. One fine August bank-holiday many thoughts, more or less connected with the day, prompted me to write this essay, so forcibly did it appear that people required help to make their lives easier and happier. Since then there have been several bank-holidays; and though trade is depressed throughout the country, though financial panic has ruined thousands, yet the demand for beer, spirits, and tobacco is as great as ever; the hollow gaieties of life are as noisy as ever--perhaps the more so for being more hollow; still our most precious friends kill themselves with overwork--mental pulverization. If they eased their minds by employing their hands they might yet live, even though many could not, last autumn, afford to buy the breath of sea or mountain air which would have strengthened them for the burdens of the new year. Those who were wise and who had capital invested it in health, that being likely to bring them in the best return. We have had seven years of the highest national prosperity. Although fictitious, it gave us pleasure while it lasted, and we were able to enjoy all that life has to offer in its perfection. We may be going to pass through seven years of dearth, so we must husband our resources of health and wealth, instead of drawing upon them in the reckless way we have lately accustomed ourselves to do. Some years of scarcity may be a blessing to us all, if they lead us back from the habits of excess and idleness we have fallen into, and particularly the craving for excitement, whether in the form of literature, or by means of stimulants and cordials (absinthe). A plain but short statement of our national losses will show the necessity of economizing the goods we still possess, financial as well as physical. Independent of the stagnation of trade which paralyzes every branch of our commerce, we have lately had losses through foreign loans more severe than any we have experienced during the present century. Since the announcement by Turkey in October, 1875, that the interest on the Turkish debt would be reduced, there has been a great fall in foreign stocks. The debt of Turkey--roughly speaking, £200,000,000--has fallen, say, £125,000,000 in value. Egyptian securities, not including the floating debt, approximately estimated at £60,000,000, have fallen some £20,000,000 in value. In smaller stocks the fall has probably been some £20,000,000; and since the breaking out of the Eastern Question, Russian stocks, at an aggregate of about £165,000,000, have fallen 12 per cent., or a sum equal to more than £20,000,000 sterling. Besides these calamities there have been in England, as shown by a recent return, 1,797 commercial failures, representing liabilities of £30,000,000 sterling, and it has been calculated that of the firms and persons occupied in business, 3 per cent. have been unable to meet their engagements. These losses will account for less familiar faces being seen in the Park in the season, for the numerous houses unlet in fashionable quarters, for grouse-moors going almost begging; and, among many other significant facts, Tattersall, who generally has 150 applications for coachmen on his books, has now 150 coachmen applying to him for situations. In our present abundance of money, through dearth of safe investments, many persons have purchased art treasures; which would be wise, but for the pain it always causes to part with things that have once adorned our homes, which makes this not a happy speculation. It would be the part of a screech-owl to cry Woe! woe! and hoot triumphantly over the distresses of our country; but there seems so much of hope and promise in the fact of our meeting reverses of fortune with courage, that we cannot feel that a real disaster has overtaken us. We have in the case of France an example of how a great nation can rise renewed in strength out of overwhelming troubles, and our trial is less severe than that of France. It is not good for any people to sit down to eat and drink and rise up to play, any more than it is good for children to feed upon delicacies in lieu of simple fare. Persons suddenly reduced from affluence to comparative poverty may be glad of a few hints to show them how happiness and refinement are by no means incompatible with a smaller condition of fortune, with a shorter purse; for, after all, the purse is not the pleasure, it only helps us to procure it; our own taste and feeling must teach us what true pleasure is. It may be demurred that some of the household improvements suggested in this book would be expensive to carry out--such, for instance, as the arrangement of the kitchen; and this is true: but looked at as an investment, they would yield large interest, and it might be prudent to invest under one's own eye, in one's own house, some of the capital we cannot afford to sink. If used in economizing wages, it will give us a profitable return. We do not hesitate to lay out money in improvements on our farms. Why, then, need we fear to arrange our dwellings in accordance with principles of true economy, so that the ladies of our families may be able to co-operate with us in advancing the benefit of all? Every family might be its own Economical Housekeeping Company (Limited), comprising in itself its shareholders and board of directors, realizing cent. per cent. for its money, because £200 a year would go as far as £400. If we save the money we now spend upon keeping servants to do our work for us, we shall have more to spend on our holidays, and so shall feel all the more refreshed by our respite from work. Much is said in this book about superfluities, but although some passages may seem to give colour to such an idea, it is by no means wished to convey the recommendation that our homes and lives are to be bare of beauty. On the contrary, I hanker after profusion and love plenty, but wish them to be placed where they will not give more labour than pleasure, where they will not hamper our every movement at every moment, making us ever wear a sort of moral tight kid-gloves, be the weather hot or cold. The rock which theories split upon is that they generally presuppose that we can make our lives, and are in independent position and good circumstances, whereas this is seldom the case. The majority of us are neither in good circumstances nor independent: often we have had no control over the purchase of our very furniture; so we must make the best of what we have, only, when we have the opportunity of making a change, let it be a reform as well as a change. My main object in writing this essay has been to show how frequently, and in how short a time, the saving effected by a reform covers the cost of carrying it out. In the case of young couples about to marry, and beginning to plan their lives, any work will be good which aids them to lay down their plans according to rules of economy and common sense. _January, 1877._ CONTENTS PAGE THE DIFFICULTY. Impossibility of getting good servants--Over-civilization--Labour has been made hideous--Sleeping partnership--Wealth exempt from this difficulty--Refinement of the professional class--Credit--Phase of insecurity and scarcity--Sweet are the uses of adversity--English people do not fear work--Servants too readily changed--Wilfulness of servants--Upper servants are easily obtained--Servants feel the pressure of the times--Ornamental servants costly luxuries--Two questions--Work must be efficiently done--Woman's work--Misuse of time--We keep servants to wait upon each other--Idleness--Pleasure made a toil 1 THE REMEDY. Bad habits to be reformed--Late hours--Value of the long winter evenings--Simplicity of manners--Over-carefulness--Instruction to be gained from foreign nations--Our manners should be natural-- _Impedimenta_ in our households--Comparison of former times with our own--Children trained to habits of consideration--Young men and boys over-indulged--Reduction of establishments--Lady-helps--What is menial work?--Picturesque occupation--What is lady-like--Amateur millinery-- Two subjects for an artist--Taste--Plan of the book--Eugénie de Guérin 20 THE ENTRANCE-HALL. The evil of side doors--Difficulties with cooks--Who is to answer the door?--Four classes of applicants--Arrangements for tradespeople-- Visitors--Furniture of the hall--Warming the passages--Dirt and door-mats--The door-step--Charwomen 40 BREAKFAST. Lighting gas-fire--Difficulty of rousing servants--Family breakfast-- Cooking omelet--Hours of work and enjoyment--Duties of mothers and householders--What is included in six hours' daily work--Clearing away the breakfast--Bowl for washing the _vaisselle_--Ornamented tea-cloths--Muslin cap worn while dusting--Use of feather-brush-- Cleaning windows--Advantages of gas-fire 54 THE KITCHEN. Parisian markets--No refuse food brought into a house--Catering in London--Cooking-stoves--Pretty kitchen--Underground kitchens objectionable--Kitchen level with the street door--Larder and store-room--The dresser--Kitchen in the Swiss style--Herbs in the window--Hygienic value of aromatic plants--Polished sink--Earthenware scrap-dish--Nothing but ashes in dust-bin--Soap-dish--Plate-rack-- Kitchen cloths--Few cleaning materials necessary--Hand work better than machine work--Washing at home--Knife-cleaning--Fuel-box--No work in the kitchen unfit for a lady to do 68 THE LADY-HELP. True position of a lady-help--Division of work in a family--The mother the best teacher--Marketing--Young lady-helps--Luncheon--Early dinners for children--Recreation--Preparing the late dinner--Evening tea--The lady-help a gentlewoman--Her assistance at breakfast--Her spare time-- Tact 88 THE DINING-ROOM. Carpets and curtains--Picture hanging and frames--Distemper colouring for cornices--Oval dining-table--Sideboard for breakfast service-- Beauty of English porcelain--A London dining-room--Giulio Romano's banquet--Growing plants--The large sideboard--Dinner-service--Styles of dinner--Food in due season--Gracefulness of flowers and fruits-- Fresh fruit better than preserves--Communication between kitchen and dining-room--Remarks on plate--Table decorations 103 THE DRAWING-ROOM. Social pressure--Agreeable evening parties--Troubles of party-giving-- Musical parties--Flowers on a balcony--Window-gardening--Crowded drawing-rooms--The library or study--Gas, candles, and candlesticks-- Original outlay on furniture--Different styles of furniture--Raffaelesque decorations--Carpets, curtains, and chair coverings--Portières--Window blinds--Rugs--Care required in buying furniture--Ornaments--Dusting-- Chiffoniers useless--Portfolio stand--Mirrors 127 BED AND DRESSING ROOMS. Ventilation--Window curtains and blinds--Bedsteads--Spring mattresses --Towels--Danger of fire at the toilet--Mantelpiece--Pictures and frames--Superfluous necessaries--Taine's criticisms--Aids to reading in bed--Service of the bath--Improvements in washstands--Arranging the rooms--Attics made beautiful--Sick-rooms--Neatness--Disinfectants-- Chlorine gas--Condy's solution--Filters--Invalid chairs--Generous efforts of the medical profession to improve the national health 155 THE EDUCATION OF GIRLS. To what age should boys' and girls' education be alike?--Accomplishments fruitlessly taught--Nursery and school-room government--Helplessness --Introduction to society--The convent system--Unhappy results-- Scientific education--Geometrical illustration--Religion--Professional life for women--Home training--Varied knowledge--Companionship of a mother--Experience--Kindness--Truth 182 SUNDAY. Children's Sundays made wearisome--Sunday precious to workers--Moral workers--Moral vices--Our gifts--Misuse of them--Necessary work on Sunday--Diminished by management--Sunday prevents us living too fast--The rest must be earned--Sunday repairs the human machine 202 HOUSEHOLD ORGANIZATION. THE DIFFICULTY. Impossibility of getting good servants--Over-civilization--Labour has been made hideous--Sleeping partnership--Wealth exempt from this difficulty--Refinement of the professional class--Credit--Phase of insecurity and scarcity--Sweet are the uses of adversity--English people do not fear work--Servants too readily changed--Wilfulness of servants--Upper servants are easily obtained--Servants feel the pressure of the times--Ornamental servants costly luxuries--Two questions--Work must be efficiently done--Woman's work--Misuse of time--We keep servants to wait upon each other--Idleness--Pleasure made a toil. For a long time past we, the middle-classes of England, have felt a great household perplexity, one which has been a daily burden to us all. This is the difficulty, almost impossibility, of getting good servants. Machinery, though it has lightened other branches of labour and cheapened production, has not helped us much here. Social science has been deeply studied, but nothing practical has yet been brought to bear upon this vexed question. The theories are good, the projected reforms better; but so far there is nothing that people of average intellect, and moderate income, can take hold of and apply to their own case. During the late plethora of wealth throughout the nation, we have so multiplied our wants, and so refined upon the ruder social ideas of the early part of the century, that our servants have not been able to keep pace with our requirements; and notwithstanding that the lower orders have much more careful education than they had formerly, it seems to be of a sort which makes them discontented with their work, rather than instructing them how to do it better. In fact, we have degraded labour by making it hideous, by pushing it into holes and corners, by shrinking from it ourselves, and casting it entirely into the hands of the lower orders; until we English are virtually divided into a contemplative and a working class. This would be all very well if it were true that our class could afford to pay liberally for work done well; but, in effect, the majority of those who wish to be relieved from work cannot pay liberally for hired labour, neither can the bulk of the labouring class perform their part of the bargain in a manner deserving liberal payment. We have tried to keep ourselves as sleeping partners in the domestic concern; we have derived profit from our money invested in service, and we find that this is no longer a profitable investment. There is a large wealthy order exempt from these difficulties. By having ample means of recompense, it has the flower of service at its command, and the domestic economy of the mansions of England is perfect. Under steward and housekeeper, this may be compared to the beautiful system seen on board a large ship of war, for discipline, routine, and celerity of service. In both instances the reverse of the shield shows the injurious effects on the lower ranks of a large proportion of unoccupied time, spent in merely waiting for their hours of duty. The suggestions I have to offer are not required by this wealthy class--the upper ten thousand, as they are popularly called, whose incomes range among the four and five figures; but help seems to be much needed by the upper twice ten hundred thousand who have incomes described by three figures, and who yet, by good birth, breeding, and education, form the backbone of England; whose boys, though only home-boarders at Eton, Harrow, and Rugby, fill all the other large schools of Great Britain, and whose daughters are the flowers of our land. Of late years England has been passing through a period of unexampled prosperity, so much so as to make the customs of wealth a familiar habit with even those who only possess a competence. To them the domestic difficulty is very great, since they exact from inferior servants the quality of service that can only be obtained from the best trained of their order. This occasions disappointment and irritation. The people whose means are inadequate to the gratification of their tastes belong mainly to the professional classes, whose brain-work most demands repose at home; yet these are, beyond all others, perplexed by the increasing toils and troubles of home life. They find that a struggle which should be peace, and so the whole machinery of their lives is thrown out of gear. This upper working-class is so occupied by endeavours to make the fortune, or, if not fortune, at any rate to make both ends meet--which has been denied them by birth or accident--that they have no time nor energy left to think these things out for themselves. So they go on bearing the yearly increasing load piled upon them by the tyranny of fashion, of custom, or by their wish to keep up their credit in the eyes of the world; for their credit is in many cases their fortune, and it must be upheld at any sacrifice. A question occurs to many: Is this credit best maintained by outward appearances, or is it more firmly secured by seeming strong enough to dispense with artificial support? And, again, Is our money credit the best we can have? A man of known wealth may go about in a shabby coat, a countess may wear a cheap bonnet, a Sidonia may dine off bread and cheese. If Gladstone fells trees, he is still Gladstone; if Ruskin grubs up a wood, he is still a great poet. Without becoming mere _dilettanti_, may we not enjoy a reputation for taste, and so allow ourselves to be heedless of a few of the conventional proprieties of life; as a tree rises above the level of the grass? May we not strive, by the culture of our manners and discourse, to make our simpler social entertainments as highly prized as the feasts of our richer neighbours? The years of prosperity have passed away, and we seem to have entered upon a phase of society when scarcity and insecurity overwhelm or threaten us all; when the wealth of yesterday has crumbled into dust, the paper money shrivelled as if it had been burnt. We still have the same high culture, the tastes and feelings of yesterday; and unfortunately, the same habits of Idleness, Helplessness, Waste, and Luxury. These are hard charges to bring against the cream of a nation which for centuries has held its own by its energy, abundance of resource, strength of character, and scorn of effeminacy; but it is impossible to deny that these characteristics of the British race have been much less strongly marked of late years. Still, these things are in our nature, and we must not weakly let ourselves decline from our former high standard. Let us, at the outset of our adversity, meet our altered circumstances with the strength of mind and wisdom befitting English people. Although wealth may be taken from us, we have our education and energy left, which, if properly used, will not allow us to sink into a lower condition than we have hitherto enjoyed; and while we hold our ground we shall strengthen our health, develop our ability, and increase our happiness. Let us, the women of England, encourage and support the men in an endeavour to return to simplicity of life, to a more manly condition; call it Spartan, Roman, republican, what you will, it is, in fact, the training of soul and body. We have had a long holiday; let us return to school with renewed vigour. We women have been much to blame for the degeneracy which has been felt of late. If men trifle away their time and health upon tobacco, women are foolishly helpless, and they permit their dependents to be wantonly wasteful. Both men and women pass the best hours of daylight in their beds, and make their meals the important event of their days. Englishmen abroad do not mind work--indeed, they may be said to love it--and never since the days of Drake have they felt it to be a degradation. He said "he would like to see the gentleman that would not set his hand to a rope and hale and draw with the mariners;" and herein the English differ from continental nations. But in England they let their love of bodily exertion have its scope almost exclusively in their games. Nor do Englishwomen in the Colonies shrink from work, and they are never in the least ashamed of it. You hear them talk quite freely of how Colonel So-and-so called in the morning while they were "stuffing the veal," to ask for the two first dances at the ball at Government House in the evening. It seems to be only in England that we dread to be seen doing anything useful. And unless we soon cast off this fear we shall be condemned to the deadly-liveliness of Hotel Companies (Limited), with their uninteresting routine; for the supply of servants not being forthcoming at our price, we must of necessity be reduced to this levelling American system, which will flatten all individuality out of us. One cause of the ever-increasing difficulty of holding a staff of servants well in hand is that our connection with them is too easily changed or dissolved at pleasure. We should bear ourselves very differently towards each other if we knew we were compelled to live together during even one year certain. As the case now is, we do not get to know each other, and a small trial of temper on either side is the prelude to a change. The old patriarchal feeling of considering the servants as members of the family has quite died out, and so their relation to us has become confused. At times we rate them with the tradespeople who come periodically to polish our bright stoves, clean our chandeliers, and wind our clocks, and so we only care whether they do their specified work well or ill, taking no further trouble about them; sometimes we treat them as the horses which draw our carriage, and see that they are well fed accordingly; and sometimes we look upon them as machines merely. We hear it said, servants do not take the interest in their places that they used to do; they are ready to leave you on the smallest provocation; they will not be told how to do any particular thing; they have their way, and if you do not like it, well, they think your place will not suit them. Indeed, one of the most docile and obliging among the servants I have known, on differing with his employer about some work in which he was engaged, said, "Well, I'll do it a little bit your way, and a little bit my way; and that will be fair, won't it, mum?" It is easy enough to get servants of the superior grades--ladies'-maids, parlour-maids, and even house-maids, where two footmen are kept; but is there such a being as a really good plain cook, or has a servant-of-all-work been heard of lately? Although it is truly said that servants themselves are beginning to feel the pressure of the times, this is not from their actual losses by money-market panics, but from the fact that many domestics are out of place on account of those families who have met with losses dispensing with unnecessary assistance. But that does not ease our case, for we are none the less helpless and dependent. Although many upper servants are out of place, this does not make them seek our situations; and if they did so, they would do us a positive injury by bringing into our houses the habits of wealthier families. The reduction of wages, and lack of suitable situations in England, will cause these unemployed servants to seek in emigration the high wages they are still secure of in the Colonies, or in America. There they will be a godsend, and they may reasonably look forward to establishing themselves permanently and happily. Independently of the collapse of foreign securities and the general depression of trade, the increased cost of all necessaries makes it impossible to many of us to allow ourselves luxuries, of which the most costly are ornamental servants; and the difficulty of obtaining any others makes it incumbent on us to put our own shoulders to the wheel, and try by diligent self-help to solve some of the problems which so miserably defy us to find a practical answer. In this consideration of the subject of domestic work in middle-class households, I hope to show in what way the mistress may be rendered more self-reliant, and how the master's purse may be spared the perpetual drain the present system entails upon it at both ends, and from every mesh. This is but a fraction of a vast subject, yet it is in itself so large, and stretches out into such a variety of kindred topics, that it is difficult to compress it into a form small enough to be easily handled, and still more difficult to make suggestions of reform generally palatable, since many vanities must be hurt by a proposal to reduce establishments, and sensitive feelings wounded by the bluntness of two direct practical questions-- 1st. Must the great majority of our young ladies be elegant superfluities? 2nd. Must we keep many servants to wait upon each other? These questions I hope to answer usefully in the following pages. We must begin with the understanding that in every house there is work to be done, and that somebody must do it. Our aim will be to reduce its compass, and to do what remains in the cheapest and pleasantest way. But it must be efficiently done, which is seldom the case when young ladies play at housekeeping, which too often means giving out the pepper, and such like. We have long shrunk from allowing our women to work at all. Husbands and fathers have taken a pride in keeping the ladies of their households in that state of ease that no call need be made on them to lift a finger in the way of useful work; so that if reverses befal them, their condition is deplorable indeed. Now we are turning round and insisting upon every woman being able to support herself by her own exertions. Though a great part of woman's natural work has been taken out of her hands by machinery, this, which is mainly the preparation of clothing, was the occupation of her uncultivated leisure, and did no more than fill up the time which we now devote to culture. By retreating from our active household duties we now divide our time between culture and idleness, or the union of both in novel-reading. For many years conscientious teachers tried to drive us to household work by calling it our duty: a dull name, sternly forbidding us to find pleasure or interest therein. It was a moral dose of physic, salutary but disagreeable. In the same way we were taught to make shirts and mend stockings, but an evening dress was held to be frivolity. Taste was discouraged, and beauty driven out of our work; no wonder, then, that the young and careless shunned it altogether, and threw as much of it as they could into the hands of hirelings. Is there no way of teaching duty without making it repulsive by its dreariness and ugliness? Now that we pride ourselves upon being no longer weak-minded and silly, let us exert ourselves to act upon Lord Bacon's maxim, "Choose the life that is most useful, and habit will make it the most agreeable." We need not fear that the routine of daily handiwork--which will become interesting to us as we try to make it agreeable--will interfere with our further intellectual culture. And even should it do so, are not our leaders of thought beginning to perceive that manual labour is more commercially valuable than mental labour; that the demand for the former is greater as the supply becomes perceptibly less? The deadness of machine work causes us to prize the spirited and varied touch that can only be imparted by the hand. Every woman, among her acquaintance, knows some one who is a skilful, energetic manager of her house, and yet whose reading and accomplishments are above the average. Indeed, as I heard one of my friends of this stamp say, when asked how she found time for so much sketching from nature, "One always finds time for what one likes to do." We see what priceless possessions we lose by our misuse of time, or waste of it in inanities, when we look at the embroideries and other work of our ancestresses, and compare these with the poor results of our months and years. We see splendid embroideries of the time of Titian, with the needlework still strong enough to outlast all our nonsense in "leviathan stitch" and "railroad stitch;" and old lace, by the side of which our work of mingling woven braids and crochet in such a manner as to get most show for the least cost of taste, labour, and invention, is worth nothing at all. With regard to my second question--Must we keep many servants to wait upon each other?--I will here make one observation. The heaviest part of the work of a cook and kitchen-maid consists in preparing the kitchen meals. Six servants require as many potatoes peeled, and as many plates, knives, forks, etc., cleaned, as six ladies and gentlemen. Multiply their five meals a day by six, and you will find that there are thirty plates, knives, forks spoons, cups or glasses, and many other things, to be laid on the table, used, washed, and put away again, at a computation of only one plate to each meal. Think of the time alone consumed in this, and the breakage; and this merely in the meals. I am not considering the houses which require a complement of ten servants to keep their machinery in motion, as these do not form part of my subject; but this slight calculation will enable us to form some estimate of the cost of maintaining a large retinue. We may well ask why we have drifted into this enormous expenditure, and for what purpose we have gradually let our houses be filled up by a greedy and destructive class, who, notwithstanding many bright exceptions, seem to combine the vices of dirt, disorder, extravagance, disobedience, and insolence. Why, indeed? For this simple reason, that we are idle. Gloss it over as we may, by calling it a desire to secure time for higher ends, the truth remains the same; we have neglected our duty in order that we may live in idleness and devote ourselves to pleasure. But if our lives are to be spent in pleasure, we shall ourselves degenerate; for pleasure wears out the body more than work, and excitement more than both. Let us take our appointed burden of steady work, and bear it onwards cheerfully and patiently. By so doing we shall feel it grow gradually lighter. It is not such slavery as the oar to which we chain ourselves. The artificial strain on our lives must be kept up by stimulants, and idleness must be roused by excitement. But our routine of gaiety is no idleness; and as for its name--gaiety--there never was a term more false. The gaiety is a hollow mockery, masking fatigue, untruth, and disappointment. Sidney Smith says, "One of the greatest pleasures of our lives is conversation." If we will simply allow ourselves to talk upon subjects of common interest, we shall find social gatherings less wearisome than when we have to manufacture small-talk for civility's sake alone. If we meet together for enjoyment instead of for display, we shall replace dissipation--mere dissipation of time (what an endeavour for mortals, whose time is their life!)--by gaiety of heart, which is the best restorative to wearied spirits. Let us Englishwomen make a strong effort to rescue ourselves from this bondage, this constant drain on our resources; and, leaving to men the duty to the state, let us seek our work in what is our duty--the rule and guidance of the house, securing, as Ruskin says, "its order, comfort, and loveliness." But especially must we insist upon its loveliness, which is the point most neglected in all that portion of our lives which does not lie immediately upon the surface. THE REMEDY. Bad habits to be reformed--Late hours--Value of the long winter evenings--Simplicity of manners--Over-carefulness--Instruction to be gained from foreign nations--Our manners should be natural--_Impedimenta_ in our households--Comparison of former times with our own--Children trained to habits of consideration--Young men and boys over-indulged --Reduction of establishments--Lady helps--What is menial work?-- Picturesque occupation--What is lady-like--Amateur millinery--Two subjects for an artist--Taste--Plan of the book--Eugénie de Guérin. Before speaking of work which has to be done in order to make our homes comfortable and beautiful, it is necessary to point out what ought not to be done. We have fallen into one form of self-indulgence which goes far towards unfitting us for work, except under the stimulus of excitement. This is our national habit of keeping late hours. This is an important matter, and one wherein every member of every family may, if he pleases, aid reform. This, unless we are printers, bakers, or policemen, is entirely in our own hands. Later hours are kept in England than in any other part of the world, and they grow later and later. We read in the life of the Prince Consort how painfully he felt this difference between England and Germany; yet the latitude and climate of the two countries differ but little, and we are of the same race. It is merely a matter of custom. Many persons pride themselves on breakfasting at ten o'clock, and nine is thought quite an early hour in comfortable houses. It is deemed aristocratic to breakfast late, as well as to dine late; and as the day begun at ten o'clock would be too short for people to have a probable chance of sleep at ten at night, they are obliged to sit up till after midnight. Thus the best hours of the day are wasted, and the health of many injured by remaining an unnecessary length of time in a gas or paraffin laden atmosphere. This shows an astonishing contrariety of disposition on the part of persons of refined sensations, so completely does it reverse the order of nature, which gives us the early sunshine for our enjoyment. Sunrise is the only beautiful natural spectacle that we modern English do not care about, except once or twice in our lives, when we get a shivering glimpse of it from an altitude of many thousand feet above the level of the sea. From six to six is the natural day throughout by far the largest half of the globe, and the nearer we bring our practice to this measure the better; taking our day of sixteen hours (two-thirds of the twenty-four) from six o'clock in the morning instead of from nine. Old folks in the country ask their young people what is the good of sitting up burning out fire and candle. We never ask ourselves this question in London. Many persons take a nap after their heavy dinner, and only begin to feel lively as the clock strikes ten. To these the midnight oil is invigorating. We have a valuable provision of nature in our long winter evenings, reckoning them at from five till ten. This gives us time for study, which we need more than do southern nations, to learn to contend against our climate. The northern peoples are famed for their mental culture: Scotland and Iceland bear witness to this. This is the season, too, for work in wool, to provide warm garments which are not required in the south. The wise woman does not fear the cold when her household is clothed in scarlet. This is the time when we may gather round the lamp or the fireside, and draw closer the family links under the influence of social warmth and progress. Simplicity in our meals and dress is another point in which we may unite economy of money, time, and trouble, with comfort to ourselves and a regard for the beautiful. We need not drift into the carelessness of the picnic style of living, which is but the parody of simplicity. The real picnic is only suited to a few exceptional days in the year, and these our holidays. We may have simple meals indoors which should have all the freedom of picnic without its inconveniences. Do we not all remember Swiss breakfasts with pleasure: the thyme-flavoured honey, and the Alpine strawberries? Or, better still, those at Athens, where the honey of Hymettus is nectar, and the freshly made butter ambrosia; and our enjoyment of both was enhanced by the scent of the orange blossoms coming in at the open windows, and the sight of sunrise glowing on the purple hills? Or luncheons in Italy, under a pergola of vines, where a melon, macaroni, a basket of grapes, and a tricolour salad constituted the feast?[1] [1] The tricolour salad imitates the Italian banner--red, white, and green. Green salad, beetroot, and cream, or white of egg whipped to snow. These things dwell longer in our memories than does the aldermanic banquet. Although every faculty need not be swamped in the gratification of the palate, our meals ought to give us pleasure. It is only when they are made of supreme importance that the satisfaction of a healthy appetite degenerates into mere greed, and what we call housekeeping means merely thinking of dinner. Simplicity allows play (not work) to our higher faculties, which cannot be refreshed while we are overwhelmed with domestic cares. "Martha was cumbered about," not with serving, but with too much serving. Doubtless, in the fulness of her hospitality, she tried to do too much, and so she showed irritability. Our Lord's teaching is always that there are good things prepared for us, which we cannot attain if we are over-careful and troubled about provision for the body. There are roses in life for those who look for roses, if they will but give themselves time to gather them. We may study with instruction and profit to ourselves the daily habits of foreign nations, and see where they fail, and also wherein they excel us. M. Taine has put into words an observation which must have occurred to all of us who have travelled, how that "from England to France, and from France to Italy, wants and preparations go on diminishing. Life is more simple, and, if I may say so, more naked, more given up to chance, less encumbered with incommodious commodities." From Italy we may go on to Arabia, and there see how little is used to keep the body in health. A woollen garment, warm enough to sleep in the open air (we cannot say out of doors where there are no doors), and thick enough to keep off the scorching rays of the sun by day, and a thin shawl for the head, is all their clothing; and the simplest meal once a day seems to be enough to keep them strong and active. Arabs have walked or run by my horse during whole days in the heat of the sun, and lived upon air until sundown, when they seemed to eat nothing but a little parched corn before stretching themselves down to sleep. It is not customary, even among the upper classes in Southern Europe and in the East, to eat more than two meals a day. Liebig tells us of the nutrition of plants from the atmosphere: we may go further, and proclaim the nutrition of man from the atmosphere. On the moorland, on the mountain side, at sea, and in the desert, I have over and over again felt its feeding properties; and we know that although we are, in such circumstances, hungry for our meals, we are not at all exhausted, nor do we want to feed frequently. As the leaves of a plant absorb the carbon in the air and give back the oxygen, so do we feed upon the oxygen and return the nitrogen. But we must have the oxygen. By our own present system of frequent heavy meals we throw all the hard work done by our bodies entirely upon the digestive organs, and when these are exhausted with their efforts, we feel faint, and mistakenly ply them with stimulants and concentrated nourishment, until at last they break down under their load. But leaving the Arabs, who are types of a high race in a natural (uneducated) condition, may we not learn much from more civilized nations? Besides taking example by the early hours of the Germans, we may imitate their industry, and, in our studies, their thoroughness and diligence of research. From the bright, elastic French people we may (we women especially) copy their cheerfulness, frugality, and their keen, clear-headed habits of business. See how diligent they are at accounts, how quick at estimates, in ways and means; how they sharpen their wit, until it shines and makes their society sought as we in England seek a clever book. The Frenchwoman works the machinery of her own house, goes into the market and fixes the market-price of what she decides upon as suitable to her purposes (she always has a purpose, this Frenchwoman); she dresses herself and her children with taste, and she glitters in society. From the Spaniards we may learn, by the warning of a proud race, what it is to sink into the scorn of other countries through smoking and debt. From the Dutch we may learn cleanliness, from the Swiss simplicity, and from the Italians to foster our patriotism. Our American cousins are part of our own family; they only differ from us in having carried our virtues and some of our follies into the superlative. We should endeavour to be natural in all our doings: to be ourselves, and not always acting a part, and that generally the part of a person of rank, or a millionaire. Let whatever we do be openly done, though not obtrusively nor boastfully; and this whether it is ornamental or only useful. To be truly ornamental it must combine utility. Is not the flower as useful as the leaf? As an example of what I mean, I will give two opposite instances. A young lady was making the bodice of a dress when a visitor called; she quickly pushed the work under a sofa pillow, and caught up a gold-braided smoking-cap, half worked at the shop, which had lasted a long time as a piece of show-needlework. The other case is that of a lady who set up for an example to her sex, and always displayed, as a manifestation of superiority, a basket full of gentlemen's stockings, which she seemed to be ever mending. Both of these ladies were acting a part. Good taste has no false shame; so we need not add the vexations of concealment to the accumulation of cares we have heaped upon our houses, till they are so encumbered with _impedimenta_ of all kinds that our whole strength is taken to keep them in order, and the household machine has to move through such a mass of difficulties that it is like a loaded carriage lumbering through a Turkish road. Why should we add these things to life? We are daily bringing mechanism to greater perfection, and it is our own fault that we do not make it perform for our houses what Manchester has made it do for our looms, and render ourselves mistresses in reality, instead of merely in name, of our own households. If we had to go back to the old flint-and-tinderbox days, when it was an hour's hard work in the dark to strike a light, when gas was unknown, when water was not laid on, when all bread must be made at home, all stockings knitted; when there was no such thing as a ready made shirt, much less gowns and polonaises; no perambulators, nor washing machines;--we should not heap upon ourselves superfluous work in the thoughtless way we do at present, and then leave all to the attention of the most careless and irresponsible members of the community. In a small family there is less work to be done; in a large one there are more hands to do the work, and many hands make light labour. We would have no mistress of a family a household drudge, while her daughters lounge over fancy-work or a novel; but we would ease her hands, and uphold her in her true position of administratrix, mainspring, guiding star of the home. Modern educational pressure causes too many of us to indulge our children, and release them from every personal duty. They must have time and quiet for their studies, and so they are allowed to become selfish, and to think that everything must give way to their mental improvement. Whereas we should train them to give as little trouble as possible; and by good management, or by sacrifices, such as getting up earlier, to do at least the extra work appertaining to their individual enjoyment. Why should they, for instance, require hot water brought to their rooms several times a day? Their grandparents used cold, and it was better for them. Why must girls have their hair brushed and braided for them? Why must their lost gloves be found for them, and their wardrobes tidily arranged for them to throw into confusion in their hurry? Boys, especially, are so seldom trained to habits of consideration, that a young man in a house gives at least twice the trouble that his father does. Boys ring bells with intense heedlessness of its being some one's journey--oftener four journeys--to answer them. They make their boots unnecessarily dirty, and their other clothes also; while the extra baths on football days, and the cleansing of the white garments, make many mothers wish the noble game were not so popular; and to sweep up the dirt the boys bring into a house often constitutes the chief work of a housemaid. We do not expect boys to mend their clothes, but they should be made to put them away, and to keep their books, papers, and toys in their proper places, and to take care of their own pets. We excuse young men from doing these things, instead of smoking or novel-reading through the whole of their spare time, on the plea that they work at money-making, forgetting that they do so for themselves, and not, like their father, for the family benefit. We might reform these things materially, and remove much of the self-indulgence which causes what has been truly called "the shame of mixed luxury and misery over our native land." If we all habitually gave less trouble, we should require fewer servants to wait upon us. There is a scarcity of good working servants, while the governess market is largely over-stocked. How many thousand of the poorest subjects of our Queen are now sinking, sick with hope deferred, into despondence, hating the present, dreading the future. And yet on all hands we hear our lady friends say, "We must all wait upon ourselves now." The impossibility of finding the average of three servants for every house in London being now recognized. Why need there be three servants to every house, when servants are the greatest drain to the fortune of a family, worse even than the dress and society of its lady members, or than the tobacco of the men? With study, and application of modern inventions, the three servants might be reduced to two; the two-servant-power establishments might dispense with one; and in many families where only one servant is kept, a lady-help would be found more useful, as well as more ornamental, than the "dolly-mop." Trade is bad, and many young women, such as lace-makers, seek service. But being of the lower orders does not necessarily make them efficient servants, not more so than young ladies who have never learnt household work. The existing puzzle is how to utilize the lady-help, for we must always bear in mind that she is a lady. She must not be merely ornamental, nor may we expect her to do anything menial. And here we must distinguish--this indeed is the great point for distinction--what is menial and what is not, and then see if we can reduce the number of works considered menial. When we read of Marie Antoinette's delightful playing at work at the Trianon, and think of her in her bewitching costume, her work, the work she supposed herself to be doing, is placed in the region of picturesque poetry; as Tennyson's gardener's daughter, training her wreaths over the porch, is as poetical a personage as his pensive Adeline or stately Eleonöre. We hear that the daughters of Queen Victoria take pride in, and give personal attention to, their dairies, and love to work among their gardens and model farms. And the Prince Consort designed model cottages for the poor in which it would be bliss to dwell, only it is impracticable to make the poor endure novelties in domestic life. Why, then, should we alone think it improper, unlady-like, and what not, to study these every-day utilities, and plan improvements in sinks and boilers? But things are not so bad as they were thirty and forty years ago, as regards what is lady-like and what is not. We are emancipated from the thraldom of its being considered genteel to be idle, and interesting to be helpless, unable to dress ourselves, or tie our own bonnet-strings without the assistance of our maid. In my young days we always had to wait for a maid to come and hook our dresses; we should not endure this now. The favourite story of the Queen always putting away her own bonnet, and folding up the strings(!) helped much in sweeping away this fanciful gentility. Since the introduction of the sewing-machine, made as a piece of furniture fit for a lady's sitting-room, ladies have been less ashamed to be seen making their own dresses; and every girl now, of any pretension to taste, twists up her silk, tulle, and ribbons, mingling them in hats and bonnets with flowers or feathers, the most graceful objects in creation, until her skill produces a thing of beauty which is a joy throughout the summer. What artist would desire a more charming subject for his picture than a pretty girl before her glass, trying in which position these delicate gauds best become the face they will adorn. It is holding nature up to the mirror. Yet some years ago girls were ashamed of a home-made bonnet, because their careful elders taught them it was more virtuous to make shirts than to cultivate their taste. The consequence was they were obliged to pay some guineas for a bonnet, as amateur millinery was a tissue of horrors. The cooking-schools are helping us in another useful branch of housewifery. Here again woman's work is being raised out of the dulness of the "Berlin repository" into an atmosphere in which all the senses may revel. Smell and taste are here perfectly satisfied, and here we offer another picture for our imaginary artist--or perhaps the beholder may be a lover. What more captivating sight than the girl of his heart deftly moving about among bright pots and kettles, and delicious bits of blue and other ware, gleaming among the copper stewpans? Dutch tiles all round the stove, and everything as picturesque as in a Friesland kitchen (which we admire enough to go a long way to see), and the young housewife in a fresh and prettily worked dress of Holland or cambric, made short, showing her red morocco shoes, her sleeves short to the elbow, with a dainty bib and apron to keep her dress from soil: she rolling out pastry at a marble table, having by her side a graceful ewer of water, or fanciful milk-pot, and, in neat arrangement, quaint jars for jams, and pails and tubs of the carved wood which is so artistically made by the Norwegian peasants. But I must fill up my outlines further on, as I enter into detail of each department of the house, and show how the first steps may be made easy in the direction of pleasant employment which shall be both useful and economical. Do not look upon the taste and beauty of details as unimportant. They make up the harmony of our lives. Taste exercises a larger influence than we give it credit for. What makes Paris flourish? Why do we all enjoy it? Not for its Louvre galleries, nor for its intellectual life and culture most, but for its tasty shops! We will speak of the house in the following order. First, the hall by which we enter it from the street; then we will bring our housewife into the kitchen, not necessarily, nor even advisably, downstairs, but near the entrance-door, so that the goods brought into the house need not have far to travel and be lifted (which would entail fatigue) before they reach the scene of their transmutation; the dining-room will come naturally next to the kitchen, as it should be nearest in a topographical sense. Then we can adjourn to the withdrawing-room, and refresh ourselves with _jardinière_ or conservatory before undertaking the arrangement of the bed-rooms and nurseries, where we pass so large a portion of our lives; and lastly, we will speak of the inhabitants, more particularly of the children. In considering the latter, we shall find the greatest benefit of anything I have recommended in this book, namely, that in place of the low-minded words and sentiments and vulgar habits of those who come nearest to ourselves in the society of our children, we may have a higher and purer association, so that the good of their future education will not have already been neutralized by corrupted early principles. By interesting occupation our young ladies will have less time for sentimental troubles and fancied ill-health, which is nervousness. Eugénie de Guérin hit the mark when she wrote, "Yes; work, work! Keep busy the body, which does mischief to the soul! I have been so little occupied to-day, and that is bad for one, and it gives a certain _ennui_ which I have in me time to ferment." On another occasion she speaks of having been writing and thinking, and then going back to her spinning-wheel or a book, or taking a saucepan, or playing with her dogs; and then she adds, "Such a life as this I call heaven upon earth." THE ENTRANCE-HALL. The evil of side doors--Difficulties with cooks--Who is to answer the door?--Four classes of applicants--Arrangements for trades-people --Visitors--Furniture of the hall--Warming the passages--Dirt and door-mats--The door-step--Charwomen. Many of the most respectable old houses in London and other large cities have only one street door and no area gate; and this is a great advantage, for of all inventions for the demoralization of households, the side or servant's door is the one which does its work most surely. There is no oversight of it; and neither master nor mistress can tell what is going on below-stairs, or at the back of the house, when the shutters are closed and the family are at dinner, or in the drawing-room in the evening. The side door had its origin in a pride, or false shame, which could not bear to see a vestige of the working of the machinery of the house, and in that tendency to separate the ornamental from the necessary part of the household economy which has worked so disastrously for us all, making us, first, unwilling to take a practical share in the management of our houses, so widening the class division between mistress and servant; and secondly, has thrown us into such a state of dependence upon our subordinates that the boldest of us dare not venture into the kitchen except at stated hours; and then, having received the programme of the proposed arrangements for the day from the cook, we are expected to go away and be no further hindrance to the eleven o'clock luncheon, which is one of the five solid meals daily required to sustain life in the hardships of service. Most ladies know what it is to wince under the sharp tongues of their cooks, who "don't like to have missuses come messing about in their kitchens," and their sarcasms upon "ladies who are not ladies," etc., etc., until many weak-minded victims retire before the enemy, and, giving up the vain pretence of ordering the dinner and examining the kitchen daily, send for the cook after breakfast, and get the interview over as soon as may be. It requires a very strong sense of duty to make one go where one is so palpably unwelcome, where one's most innocent looks are construed into a mean peeping and prying, and the least remonstrance is met by insolence. I have, as a rule, been fortunate with my servants, and of late years I have successfully employed foreigners, who are generally more tractable than English servants. I carried my point, when living in a villa near London, and locked the side door, retaining the key. I found great advantage in so doing on comparing notes with my neighbours, who told me their servants had threatened to leave directly there was a question of closing the side doors. But this is only a recommendation where servants are kept. A responsible supervision of young servants is quite consistent with allowing them due liberty. This should always be granted them, as a dull imprisonment is misery to the young, and then they would not endeavour to take it in a clandestine manner, and surreptitious dealings with dishonest characters outside would be avoided. To our present argument it matters little whether there be a side door or not, except that it affords greater facility to burglars; so we will treat of the principal door as the only one, because this is most frequently the case in town-houses where there is no area gate, and the use of that does not enter into our plan of proceeding at all. One of the first difficulties that presents itself to the lady wishing to maintain a small household staff is the opening of the front door. The question meets us on the threshold, who is to answer the door? Who will be the slave of the ring? A lady-help does not like to undertake this office, and to the mistress it appears still more unsuitable. But let us analyze the subject. There are four classes of people who knock at our door: the family, tradespeople, visitors, and casuals. The first division of the difficulty may be easily disposed of. The master and mistress, for these titles must be strictly maintained, have each a latch key; the rest of the family may habitually use a particular knock agreed upon between them, and then the person who happens to be nearest to the door will open it. Schoolboys and girls return at stated hours, and one is prepared for their appeal. For several years past my family has used four single knocks, which is a sign sufficiently unlike other knocks to be recognized immediately. The postman's knock is well known, and in families where there is no great eagerness to get the letters, they fall naturally into the letter-box, which should be made deep, and the slit large enough to admit the _Times_ newspaper easily. In Italy it is usual to write the word _fuori_ on a card, and stick it in the door when one is not at home; and in this case visiting-cards would also be left in the letter-box. We might adopt this method, or even the Temple fashion of saying when we are likely to be home again. The tradesmen are the most difficult to arrange for, and here invention must be called into play. Tradespeople first call for orders, and then with supplies. Suppose we had our doors fitted with a kind of turnstile door, something like the birdcage gates which used to be at the Zoological Gardens, only with the outside made of wood, closely fitting, so as to admit no draught. This, by a push, would allow the goods to be deposited within the door, on the table upon which the cage turns round. The opening should be of a size to admit a leg of mutton easily. The goods, once deposited, could not be removed from the outside, as the door only works one way. Through this opening the lady-housekeeper might give her own orders without their interpretation by an underling, and without being exposed to the public gaze, as she would be if the front door were fully opened, while the leg-of-mutton aperture would be sufficient for both parties to see to whom they were speaking. In the case of a single door, instead of the very general folding doors, it would be necessary to have the cage made to fold back, and the table to let down with hinges, to allow of the door being opened back against the wall; the table might be lowered after midday. This arrangement would also dispose of most of the casuals--the beggars, pedlars, and others who haunt our door-steps--to the entire prevention of hall robberies. And now we come to the last and most considerable division of the subject--our visitors; comprising relatives, friends, and strangers. If we lived in Arcadia, or in the Colonies, we should most likely be so glad to see our friends that we should joyfully run to welcome them. Or if we were very great people indeed, we should not mind doing as Queen Victoria does, going to receive them at the moment of their arrival. But as we are middling people, and neither shepherdesses nor queens, we dread being natural for fear of being thought poor. For people are very much more afraid of being thought poor than of being poor, seeing how often they let themselves be dragged into poverty by idleness and extravagance. The best remedy I know for the fancied difficulty of opening our door to our visitors, is to have no friends but those whom we are glad to see, and to begin every new acquaintance by putting it at once on a footing of actual fact, letting people understand that we try to make the best of our means, and live within them. Then, if they will not take us upon our own terms, we need not regret that they do not wish for our friendship. We shall find, in actual practice, that it makes very little difference to their opinion of us, if when we are at home we have the courage to tell them so ourselves; or if a dirty maid-servant, after an interval of waiting, receives their cards in the corner of her apron because her hands are black, and says she will go and see if "missis" is at home, or even if a neat parlour-maid fulfils the same office, and ushers visitors into a brown holland-encased room, leaving them to remark the time the lady of the house takes arranging her dress and her smiles previous to appearing. In whatsoever way the ceremonial may be performed is of importance to none but ourselves. The visitor forgets it immediately, only retaining a general impression, cheery or dismal, as the case may seem; and if we are nice people and our visitors nice people, according to our respective ideas on that subject, we shall cultivate each other's acquaintance all the same. It is immensely hard work to make five hundred a year look like a thousand. The effort to do so is seen through in an instant by a keen-sighted observer, and then it is ten chances to one if you get credit for what you really possess. It is never worth while to pinch and pare our everyday life for the sake of a few occasions of display. Let us now go on to consider the best fittings and furniture for the entrance-hall. Encaustic tiles make very good flooring for a hall, and are very easily cleansed with a mop or a damp cloth wrapped round a broom. A good thick door-mat is a great temptation to people to rub their boots well. This is really better than one of those delightful indoor scrapers all set round with brushes, which are seldom used after the first few weeks of their introduction. Mine is as good as new, and as highly polished, and I have had it for years. A couple of good door-mats are much more useful. It is necessary to have a stand with a large drip-dish in a corner of the hall, to hang up cloaks and mackintoshes, and hat-pegs of course, but particularly a good-sized cupboard for boots, shoes, and goloshes, so that the family may change them in the hall on entrance. A carved _bahut_, or Italian linen coffer, is very useful in a hall for children to keep their school and garden hats and bonnets in, the lid serving for a bench; but many halls, which are often merely narrow passages, would be inconveniently crowded by one of these rather ponderous pieces of furniture; besides which, they are costly. A deep bowl of Oriental china is as nice as anything for a card-dish, and the hall is a more appropriate place for it than the drawing-room. Where it is thought necessary to warm the house, hot-water pipes laid from the kitchen are as cheap as anything. If the pipes are heated by a separate gas-stove in the hall, they will supply hot water to the bed-rooms also; but it is not a healthy practice to heat the passages of a house: it causes the cold to be so much more felt on going out. Where the influence of the stove is felt in the bed-rooms it often prevents sleep. In many houses which are kept too close and warm the families are subject to constant headache, and in others to a perpetual succession of colds; according to their temperament requiring more oxygen, or their susceptibility to the sudden change from the heated to the outdoor air. Unpolished oak is the most usual and the best material for hall furniture; it is cleaned by rubbing with a little oil, which shows the grain and enriches its colour. One rule which in practice saves more dirt in the house than any other, is that no member of the family be allowed to go upstairs in walking-boots. I have carried out this law for some years, after having long been troubled by my schoolboys rushing up and down stairs with their dirty boots on; and the saving to my stair carpet is very considerable. Boys and girls do not run up and down so often, if compelled to exercise a little attention beforehand. But little boot blacking or brushing need be done in the house. Gentlemen can easily have their boots cleaned out of doors, and ladies, by the use of goloshes, may reduce this work for themselves to a minimum, many kinds of boots being much better cleaned when sponged over lightly than when they are brushed or blacked. Every member of the family may not unreasonably be expected to take care of his or her own boots. The door-step, or flight of steps, which is such an affliction to householders and such a joy to servants, may be kept sufficiently clean by being washed by the charwoman who comes one morning a week to do the scrubbing and scouring; which would be too menial--in other words, too public and too laborious--for any lady-help to endure. Hearthstoning the step seems a very useless practice; the grey stone itself is a nicer colour, and only requires a mop or a broom to keep it free from dirt, according to the weather. Much white dust is brought into the house by the daily use of hearthstone, and precious time is wasted in the operation. It may be well to understand, at the outset of our description of the work of a house, what parts of it cannot usefully or practicably be undertaken by women who have been gently nurtured, before discussing the portions which their knowledge and skill are best calculated to perform. For although we may by forethought reduce within a small compass the toilsome part of the duties, there will always remain some functions which it would uselessly tax a lady's valuable time and strength to perform. For, after all, the office of the mistress is to raise housekeeping to the level of the fine arts, "where the head, the hand, and the heart work together." Incidental mention has already been made of the charwoman; she may be employed for the harder work in the following manner:-- The charwoman should not have her meals in the house, but she should be paid by the piece for certain work done; say, door-step, 1_d._ or 2_d._, according to size and number of steps; kitchen floor, 4_d._; passages, according to size and requirements. Many charwomen would gladly undertake work on this plan, and many poor women or strong girls would rejoice to do a morning's work and get home early to their family with what would pay for their dinner. It is impossible to lay down fixed prices for piece-work, as this must necessarily vary with the size of houses and the habits of the owners. The charwoman can shake the heavy door-mats, and sweep out the kitchen flue, if the species of stove used require sweeping--and most of them do. She may also break the large lumps of coal into knobs of the size necessary for the patent ranges needing fuel of a certain size, and she might place the week's supply of coal in the fuel-box. It would be better in many cases to employ for this hard work a strong boy with a Saturday half-holiday. He could do it all quite as well as a woman, and much more easily; but as we find we shall be taxed for a man-servant if we employ any arms but a woman's, we must make the best use we can of the worse means, consoling ourselves with the idea that the woman will use the money paid better than the boy might do. BREAKFAST. Lighting gas-fire--Difficulty of rousing servants--Family breakfast --Cooking omelet--Hours of work and enjoyment--Duties of mothers and householders--What is included in six hours' daily work--Clearing away the breakfast--Bowl for washing the _vaisselles_--Ornamented tea-cloths --Muslin cap worn while dusting--Use of feather-brush--Cleaning windows--Advantages of gas-fire. The gas-fire is the key-note of my system of domestic economy. The thing most impossible for a lady to contemplate doing, unless compelled thereto by duty, is to get up early, and before the shutters are open or the household stirring, to lay and light a fire, or light one already laid. The thought of going to a coal-cellar, shovel in hand, to bring in a scuttle of coals on a winter's morning is enough to make the bravest shudder. It is work only suited to those who have strength and hard nurture. But can the most delicate woman think it a hardship to light the gas-stove, or tripod, in the dining-room, whereon stands an enamel-lined kettle ready filled overnight, or else a coffee-pot already full, and only waiting for the match to be struck to make it hot? This is less trouble than to rouse one's self at seven o'clock to ring the bed-room bell, which often fails to summon a sleepy maid: and few English servants are early risers. Those who keep foreign servants have greatly the advantage in this respect. Very many of us require our servants to rise and be downstairs before seven, as most gentlemen have to be in the city, or at their offices or chambers, by nine, and all schoolboys and girls at school. In the great majority of families breakfast must be ready punctually at eight. While the family is assembling and prayers are being read, the kettle is boiling, and the tripod is soon ready for eggs to be boiled upon it, and bacon or kidneys fried. My experience of another plan for a very comfortable every-day breakfast is, where a spirit lamp (methylated spirit, not petroleum) stands on the breakfast-table at the mistress's right hand, and from a plate containing eggs, butter, and some rashers of bacon, she cooks a savoury omelet, and fries the rashers in a small china fryingpan over the lamp, passing to each person the hot slices as they are done, and serving the omelet fizzling from the pan to all. This process of cooking only takes five minutes, and the food is ready to be eaten as soon as the tea is made or the coffee poured out; and it is a pretty and cheerful occupation while letters are being read and talked of, or the _Saturday Review_ cut. A few savoury herbs, such as parsley or chives, are a great addition to the omelet; and it is easy to chop overnight the teaspoonful that is sufficient for the purpose, and put it on the plate with the other preparations. A few slices of cold potato are easily fried when the bacon is taken out of the pan; the bacon fat fries them deliciously. The china frying pans may be bought at many shops, particularly at No. 9, Oxford Street, London. Toast is not easily managed; but with hot rolls from the baker's, marmalade, honey, and potted meat or ham, on the table, a very substantial breakfast may be had with little trouble, and no delay in its preparation. We will suppose the gentlemen of the family have left the house for the business of the day, and the boys gone to school, and we will now, before continuing our description of the house and its furniture, give an outline sketch of the proceedings of the ladies during their absence. For England expects every woman to do her duty, as well as every man, and to prove herself a help-meet for man before pretending to rivalry. The division of our time given in the old lines seems to be a very rational one-- "Six hours to work, To soothing slumber seven, Ten to the world allot, And all to heaven." This allows ample time for rest and enjoyment, and sets apart an hour for daily service in the church for all who wish to attend it. In Utopia, Sir Thomas More allots six hours a day for work to all men and women, and no longer; as he holds it to be important that we should have more time available for enjoying the living we work for, than for working to sustain it. We give ourselves so little enjoyment in our play, that a great man once said, "Life would be very tolerable if it were not for its pleasures." We have come to treat our play as if it were our work--and no wonder, since we have made it so very troublesome--and having thrown our appointed work upon the shoulders of other people, we now complain how badly they do it. We mothers have a certain work given us to do, not by man, but by our Maker, whose servants we are. This is to take care of our children. Instead of doing this, we leave them almost entirely in the hands of strangers, and during great part of the day we know nothing of their doings, nor of what they are learning or thinking. What should we say to a nurse or a governess who neglected them as we do, and how shall we answer for our lack of care? We householders have laid upon us the care of our houses. Yet it has come to be a recognized thing that we are to touch nothing in them with our own hands--at the utmost, we are to give our orders; and the wealthy among us do not even do that, but are waited upon with every luxury, and then sent ready-dressed into society. We are not our own, and we have little to do with the making of our position in life. We must accept the _status quo_ and make the best of it; so we may as well acquiesce cheerfully in our circumstances, doing as much as we can, and see if regular occupation will not make our hearts lighter, and help to bring back the days of Merry England again. But we have no time for preaching now, and I would not willingly give a sermon in any case. I only threw out that suggestion of six hours' work for fear you might think I meant you to be busily employed all day, and then you would drop the book in disgust. But go on a little longer, and you will find that I am less hard than the Ladies' Art-Needlework Society, which insists upon eight hours of close application, and far less hard than the Cambridge Board of Examiners, which drives you on night and day, leaving no time for household duties; much less for dancing, or picking flowers in country lanes. No; my six hours' work will include your music-practising, and your attentive reading for purposes of study. For unless yours be the only pair of feminine hands in the family, you will not find more than three hours occupied with household work, and part of that time will comprise a daily walk, a constitutional with an object, and the remaining part will not be disagreeable; at least, I hope not, but it will be work and not play. After this explanation let us return to our subject. We will take it for granted that there are at least two ladies at home. One, the lady-help or eldest daughter, for example, will dust and set in order the drawing-room, whilst the mistress of the house proceeds to clear away the breakfast somewhat after the following manner. When the coffee-pot was taken from the gas tripod to be placed on the breakfast-table, the kettle was refilled from a tap fixed on one side of the dining-room fire-place, and the water will be by this time hot enough to wash the cups and plates in. Immediately under the tap stands a large bowl of Delft, or other ware sufficiently strong for daily use, and yet ornamental or picturesque enough to remain always in the dining-room. Terra-cotta is a good material for this purpose, as the colour is always decorative to a room. One might have a bowl of very elegant design made at the Watcombe terra-cotta works. Better still, in the case of its being required to be movable, would be a wooden bowl of the Norwegian carved work manufactured by peasant artists of Thelemarken, under the direction of M. de Coninck, of Christiania. Some one of Minton's vases or _jardinières_ would answer the purpose very well; but unless it had a plug and a pipe for letting off the water, like many washstands have, it would be heavy to lift with water in it. But a bowl with these fittings, placed on a fixed stand near the fire-place, would be well worth while taking some trouble to procure for the dining-room. It would be quite as ornamental, and no more expensive, than the china flower-pots on unsteady pedestals which are so universally popular; indeed, it might balance one of these on the window-side of the fire-place, if it were thought proper. A piece of oilcloth might be spread under the pedestal, if it does not stand on the varnished floor. From the sideboard-drawer will be taken a neatly folded tea-cloth, ornamented most probably with open work at each end, or adorned with colour in the style of the Russian household linen in the collection of the Duchess of Edinburgh, and the lady will proceed to rinse and wipe the breakfast cups and saucers, together with the teaspoons, milk-jug, and the cleaner plates, and will then lay the plates that have grease upon them to soak in the hot water, to which some additional hot water has been added. Before taking out the plates, the china which has been used at breakfast should be neatly arranged on, or in, the sideboard. This saves the trouble of carrying about trays of crockery, and the consequent breakage. I will describe the china cabinet as I go more particularly into the details of the dining-room. The remaining plates may now be wiped, and the _etceteras_ replaced, the cloth brushed, neatly folded, and laid in a drawer with the table napkins, and the fryingpan cleansed by relighting the spirit-lamp for a minute while some hot water bubbles in it to clean it; the towel itself taken away to dry, and the tea-leaves, and a small basin of eggshells and scraps carried into the kitchen; the raw eggshells to be used to wash decanters and glass, and the tea-leaves reserved for dusting purposes. The windows are opened and the gas fire turned out, and this important ceremonial of the day is at an end. By this time the drawing-room will have been dusted by the second lady, the week's duster being kept in a convenient drawer. The feather-brush is wielded as a wand by the graceful mistress of the instrument, whom I should recommend to wear a muslin cap to keep the dust from falling on her hair. These caps, when made of Swiss muslin and trimmed with a frill border edged with Valenciennes lace, are most becoming. They are best and prettiest when made in the shape of a large hair-net. A pretty bride used to come down to breakfast at Interlaken wearing this kind of cap, and other ladies at once adopted the style for wearing at their morning work or sketching. This was some years ago, but a good shape is always good. To any one unused to the mysteries of dusting, it is surprising to find how easily the ornaments of a drawing-room may be kept in order, and how well the gilt frames of pictures preserved, by a light play of the feather-brush every morning. The French use the _plumeau_ in nearly all cases where we rub with a hard duster, and with great advantage, especially in the case of gilding. A man or woman hired once a month will keep the windows bright; they are all the brighter if cleaned with newspaper dipped in cold water--some mordant in the printer's ink has the property of rendering them so--and they are the more easily wiped, having less fluff about them than if cloths are used. A light rub with a leather makes bright stove bars more brilliant, and in summer the fire-place will give very little trouble; though for ladies managing their own work, andirons and a wood fire will be found easier to keep in order, as well as being more picturesque. A gas fire, built with pumice and asbestos, lasts without needing a touch for three years, and though less delightful than wood or coal, is infinitely cleaner, and gives no trouble at all. A gas apparatus with four jets can be laid in any ordinary fire-place, and fitted with pumice and asbestos complete for seven and twenty shillings, perhaps for less; but that is what I have paid. And when one considers the saving of labour in carrying upstairs heavy scuttles of coal, besides the original cost of the scuttles, with the ludicrous inappropriateness of the ornamental varieties, the total abolition of fire-irons, including that absurdity seen in many houses, the supplementary or deputy poker, besides requiring no chimneysweep in the drawing-room at all, it may be thought well worth while to have a gas fire laid at first. The superior cleanliness and security against smoke are great arguments for its general use, besides the ease with which it can be lighted, or turned out when not wanted for use. Being in the fire-place, the gas finds vent in the chimney, so there is no feeling of closeness in the room. The disadvantage of a gas fire, in some people's opinion, is that it may not be poked or touched; but this is soon forgotten. Its appearance is like a clear fire of cinders, except when the sun is shining, and then it burns with a greenish tint not at all pretty. Breakfast cleared away, and the drawing-room neatly arranged, the beds have next to be made. This is done with little exertion, as modern beds have spring mattresses, and French wool mattresses above these which require no shaking; so that bed-making gives only a little exercise with a minimum of fatigue. Two people can make a bed with great ease, but as a rule I should advocate every person making his or her own bed. I must not here go into the detail of setting the bed-rooms in order, as this will come more properly into the description of the upper part of the house. So I will only suggest that if one room be cleaned each day, and the staircase on one day, the housework is not so heavy a task as it appears. THE KITCHEN. Parisian markets--No refuse food brought into a house--Catering in London--Cooking-stoves--Pretty kitchen--Underground kitchens objectionable--Kitchen level with the street door--Larder and store-room--The dresser--Kitchen in the Swiss style--Herbs in the window--Hygienic value of aromatic plants--Polished sink--Earthenware scrap-dish--Nothing but ashes in dust-bin--Soap-dish--Plate-rack-- Kitchen cloths--Few cleaning materials necessary--Hand work better than machine work--Washing at home--Knife-cleaning--Fuel-box--No work in the kitchen unfit for a lady to do. Time works many changes; but will it ever bring into our English markets the various and neatly arranged vegetables, the bouquets of salad, pleasant to the eye as to the taste, the neat little joints and divisions of meat, the temptingly prepared poultry and game, and the many kinds of appetizing comestibles, which are to be found in the markets of Paris? There a housekeeper may amuse herself by varying her dinners for every day, having an embarrassment of choice between countless delicacies. There the fillet of beef (the undercut of the sirloin) is already larded for the roast; the pigeons are boned and prepared for the _compôte_; the veal is cut in shape and beaten for the cutlets; the pigs'-feet are boned, stuffed, and truffled; slices of galantine are ready to be laid on a dish for luncheon; crayfish woo the _mayonnaise_; parsley and butter are waiting to be poured over potatoes _à la maître-d'hôtel_. There the spinach may be bought ready boiled and finely chopped, only needing to be warmed with its poached eggs; the sorrel is already picked over and cooked; the carrots are cleanly grown, and evenly selected, and sold with just the quantity of feathered green tops useful for a garnish. In fact, all is so contrived that the least possible refuse matter shall be brought into any house, so saving the labour that this entails. Nor does this trimming and spoke-shaving add to the price of the articles, as the surplus vegetable remains go into the ground at once, but little of what is uneatable being taken to the market at all; thus saving the cost of carriage, and paying for the little time expended in its removal; while in the case of meat, the purchaser finds it more profitable to cook only such parts as are entirely eatable, without letting time and fire be consumed in preparing what is always wasted. This is not a cookery-book, though when I think of how much we have to learn before we can make good use of our fine provisions, I feel tempted to branch off on this line; but the lady amateur will learn more by giving careful attention at the cooking-school than by reading many books. In London we can buy peas ready shelled, fowls ready trussed, fish prepared for the pot or pan, and sometimes our beans ready slit; but carrots must be scraped, greens washed, and turnips peeled, and apples also, though potatoes need not; tongues and hams may be bought boiled, and cakes ready baked. Still, with us much more food has to be prepared at home than in France, though we have this convenience--that the provisions are brought by the tradesmen to our doors, which is seldom the practice there. For general cooking, the gas tripod like that used at breakfast will not serve our turn, except on cold-collation days in the heat of summer, when cold lamb or salmon, salads and fruit, are more grateful than anything else. Many people dislike to have their cooking done by gas, and it is objectionable for roasting or broiling; still, there are such numerous inventions in cooking-stoves, each simpler, cleaner, and more perfect than the rest, that only the embarrassment of selection can cause hesitation in making a choice. Near a nice bright stove, placed in a recess glittering with Dutch tiles or Minton's artistic _plaques_, surrounded by burnished pans and pots of well-lined copper or brass and neat enamelled saucepans, the genius of the hearth presides over the mysteries of Hestia. The window, made with diamond panes mingled with a few lozenges of bright colour, is mostly open in summer, and wreathed with climbing plants--as vines, and ornamental gourds, with their curious black or scarlet fruit, the rich foliage intercepting the sunshine--or closed if it be winter, and draped in pleasant muslin. I would take great pains to make my kitchen the most picturesque and cheerful room in the house, as it is one of the most important. On no account would I use the great black beetle-trap cellar downstairs and underground, which strikes with dismay the greater number of young girls who have rushed from school into marriage, and who instantly become the prey of the tyrant imprisoned in that dungeon, which is too often also a den of iniquity. No; if obliged to have a house with one of these dismal caverns, I would invent some useful purpose for it; but I would not willingly select such a dwelling. These underground kitchens must eventually die out, and our children will wonder why we used such airless, lightless places. In a house arranged on my plan we aim upwards, not downwards. We might, perhaps, on wet days, let the children go to these basement rooms to skip or romp, as there they could not shake down the ceiling beneath them, as sometimes happens in upstairs play-rooms; only the rooms must be kept carefully whitewashed, and, as far as possible, well aired. Or the old kitchen might be fitted up with racks for guns and fishing-rods, and used as a smoking-room, when cosily papered, and carpeted with matting; and the back kitchen converted into a carpenter's shop with lathe and tool-chest. But our kitchen, the pride of our house, will be level with the dining-room and front door. It is a foolish practice to have all vegetables, meat, coal, etc., taken downstairs for the purpose of bringing them all up again. When it is impossible to spare two rooms on the ground floor for household use, let both kitchen and dining-room be upstairs, while the drawing-room might be on the ground floor. This would give no more work than does our present custom. But where it is possible, it is better, for obvious reasons, that the kitchen should be on a level with the street door. When the room used as kitchen is large and has two windows, one side of it may be partitioned off for a larder, or store closet; or if there is a small third room near, it may be used for these purposes. But much depends upon the aspect of the room and its means of ventilation. A town larder need not be large, as the butcher, fishmonger, etc., can keep the provisions far better than we can do in the best of larders. A pantry and scullery will be quite unnecessary in a house arranged in this way. Wine will be kept in the usual wine-cellar, but beer, in bottles or in a small cask, may be kept in the cupboard under the stairs which is so universal in town houses. The kitchen floor should not be carpeted; but one or two undyed sheepskins make comfortable mats, and are easily cleaned. The kitchen dresser may be made of the usual shape, though the cornice seems superfluous, as it is too high for anything but dust to rest upon it. Where it is thought better to do so, the old kitchen dresser may be brought bodily upstairs. If it is varnished and its back painted red, and the edges of its shelves very dark brown, with bright brass hooks in them, it may have bright brass handles put on its drawers, and it will do very well; and white or blue-and-white ware will look extremely well upon it. A kitchen may be very prettily fitted up in the Swiss style, with unpainted deal employed decoratively whenever there is a fit occasion for it. The back of the dresser may be made of narrow boards, each lath cut out uniformly in a pattern at the top, forming a band of ornament. The shelves will look very nice with a border of fretwork, in sycamore, placed either above or below their edges. They are more easily cleaned if the ornamental border is fastened on like barge-boarding, but this plan is not so well adapted for hooks. Mottoes in old English character, which is similar to the German Gothic type used in Switzerland, form an appropriate decoration to the cornice of the room. The tables and chairs must be of unpainted wood, plain, but of good form. All hooks and bars, or whatever cannot conveniently be made of wood, should be of wrought iron. This gives a good opportunity for having window-bars and fastenings, or even a balcony, made in ornamental iron work. The window-curtains will be of Swiss muslin. Oval wooden pails, with a board on one side left tall and cut out for a handle, made in various sizes for water, milk, etc., are as useful as they are suitable to the style adopted; and baskets may be made like those carried by the Swiss mountaineers at their backs. A cuckoo clock and a few hooks of chamois horn carry out the effect. Characteristic ornaments, such as paintings of Swiss scenery, and flowers in wooden frames, wood carvings on brackets, wooden bears as matchboxes, wooden screw nutcrackers, should be collected during visits to Switzerland; and a Swiss costume will be found as practically useful as any dress the young cook can wear, and will add a great charm and liveliness to the scene. But be the style adopted what it may, and it is well to exercise individual tastes, it need not be made expensive, or not more so than an ugly kitchen. Thought and care should combine to make it cheerful and attractive, in order that the real work to be done in it may not have a depressing influence: that the lady, or her assistant, may not pine for the greater excitement of the Row or the rink. The kitchen window should be well furnished with scented plants; and in case of having no garden, pots of parsley, mint, and thyme may be grown successfully on a balcony. Every house might possess its sweet basil plant, and every Isabella might rear it in as elegant a pot as that in Holman Hunt's picture. Plentiful use should be made of it in cookery; it is one of the best of herbs. Indeed, we too much neglect all these aromatic plants, the hygienic value of their fragrance alone being very great. Some girls might save the small fortune they now spend in opopanax and patchouly, by cultivating lavender and thyme for their wardrobes; while balm and bergamot are sweet enough to make the kitchen smell like Araby the Blest. China ginger-jars will be found good for preserving dried herbs for winter use. The sink is a very important part of the kitchen furniture. This, in our model kitchen, should be a shallow bath of Marezzo marble, which is a strong, durable composition, finely coloured. We should select it of a colour harmonizing with the general style of the kitchen. The sink must rest upon two columns, or short shafts, of the Marezzo marble, hollowed down the centre, to allow of the water running freely away at both ends of the sink, each tube being stopped by a bell-trap. It must stand on one side of the kitchen fire-place, so that a pipe and tap may readily communicate with the self-supplying boiler. There must also be the usual pipe to conduct cold water from the cistern. The best possible sink would be of real marble, highly polished; but the cost of this would preclude its use in our economical household. Enamelled slate would be cheaper and very good, and it would retain its polish better than the Marezzo marble, or japanned metal might answer the purpose pretty well. But doubtless a demand for such articles would cause Messrs. Minton's factory to produce a sink in strong glazed earthenware which should be finely coloured as well as elegant in form, making, indeed, an object as beautiful as a Roman porphyry bath. Many of the public washing fountains in Italy, or the south of France, would serve as models for this purpose. One of the most important points to be attended to is that it should be highly polished, as grease would be more easily removed from it, and it would be cleaner. Beneath the sink is the pot for scraps and refuse, of which a small quantity is inevitable, unless there is a garden, or poultry are kept; in which cases all rubbish may be turned to account, the only exception being fish-bones and scraps, which, under all circumstances, must be burned. The refuse dish should be of earthenware to match the sink, or of terra-cotta, glazed inside. It must be made in two compartments, one for usable scraps and one for waste. Each division should have a cover with a small air-hole in it, both covers made sufficiently heavy not to be upset or opened by the cat; and there must be a handle to lift it out once a week, or oftener, when its contents are disposed of, either as gift, or to some person calling for it regularly. In all economical families the dripping is consumed either for frying, or else clarified for cakes, etc. Cinders, of course, are to be sifted in the covered cinder-sieve, and the ashes only allowed in the dust-bin. By care on this point, seven-tenths of all fevers might be prevented. By the side of the sink should stand a neat towel-horse for drying the damp cloths; and a pretty dish made in two divisions, with a strainer for soap and soda, should be hung in a convenient place. This dish would be best made in earthenware, but it might be of carved wood in a kitchen fitted up in the Swiss style. A plate-rack must be above the sink, and here is great scope for tasteful decoration without interfering with its lightness or strength. A rack like those in general use would, however, be perfectly inoffensive, and so would our ordinary buckets and dish-tubs; but souvenirs of travel, such as the quaint wooden pails seen at Antwerp, or the brass fryingpan-shaped candlesticks at Ghent, should be eagerly sought, as they add much to the picturesqueness and piquant liveliness which are so desirable. A round towel, on a roller with nicely carved brackets, is indispensable. This should be of finer holland than it is generally made of, being for ladies' use; or it might preferably be of soft Turkish towelling, with coloured stripes and a fringed end, and so be pleasanter to the eye and touch than the ordinary jack-towel. The dresser-drawers must have their piles of kitchen cloths neatly folded, and separated for their different services. These should be the pride of the young housewife's heart, all of them having their ends tastefully ornamented, either ravelled out or knotted into fringe for the commonest, or open worked, or edged with Greek lace and _guipure-d'art_, according to their quality; the dusters only being plain, and these of two sorts, one stout for furniture, and the other kind of soft muslin for ornaments. Housemaid's gloves, wash-leather, and any favourite cleaning materials, should be kept in a drawer by themselves; but in my experience I have found very few of these things necessary. As is the case with all the arts, the more complete the paraphernalia, the less is the work done. It takes so long to set in order one's apparatus, and to play with it a little, that as soon as something is begun to be done, it is time to put all away again. How often we see this with amateur painters; they set out too heavily equipped. The black-lead and brush, and broken saucer full of something pulpy, the powder that is always falling out of its packet or bit of newspaper, and the other odds and ends which crowd our house-maids' dirty buckets, and the scrubbing brushes and hearthstone which encumber our sinks, are only barbarisms trying to conceal the slovenliness they pretend to correct. A house regularly and neatly attended to needs few or none of these things, while sandpaper, rotten-stone, and whiting may be almost entirely dispensed with. The homely old proverb should be remembered, when tempted by advertisements of these things, "Elbow-grease is the best furniture polish." Mincing-machines, apple-paring-machines, and toys of this kind, are all very well when ladies use them themselves; but they represent so much idleness, waste, and destruction in the hands of careless cooks, who like to sit over their letter writing, or their weekly paper, while the kitchen-maid does the work. And when a fragile machine breaks or gets out of order under her heavy hand, she only "drats the nasty thing" and throws away the broken part, pushing the rest aside to become a portion of the dreadful accumulation of lumber to be seen in every house. My own practice as a wood-carver teaches me to prefer using that perfect tool, the hand, in its ever adaptable way, to using it servilely to grind out sausages. By the time one has prepared the meat to feed the machine, set it in working order, and taken it to pieces again to clean it, one might as soon have used a sharp knife, and the meat would have tasted better than it does when its juice is squeezed out and its fibre torn to rags, so that the insipid _rissoles_ made from it need half a bottle of Harvey's sauce to make them eatable. It may be a matter of taste, but the difference seems to me as great as between music played on a piano and noise ground out of a barrel-organ. Washing-machines, I have found to my cost, are a failure also, at least in hired hands. I bought one of the best, but as I had also a washing-tray, the machine, warranted to do everything, was neglected, and its lid employed as a table; as we too often see with our pianos, telling thereby a tale of forgetfulness. The mangling part of the machine, which was sometimes used by semi-compulsion, always had its screw left turned on at full pressure, so that the spring would have been powerless in a week, had I not loosened it myself. Washing at home had better not be attempted in the case of ladies doing their own work. We want to lighten the labour of the house; since, if we endeavour to do too much, we shall either become household drudges, or else decline the work altogether. But supposing a family has time and opportunity to do the laundry work at home, a tablespoonful of liquid ammonia and a dessertspoonful of turpentine used in the washing water, where a quarter of a pound of soap has been finely sliced, will be found to remove dirt from the clothes without rubbing, saving labour, much soap, and the wear and tear of the things. In the case of large families, besides the greater economy of washing at home, which is, however, doubtful when extra labour is hired, the immunity from infectious diseases being brought home in the linen is a powerful motive for undertaking the work, and doubly so where there is a garden, as it is so much better for our health to wear linen dried in the fresh air, rather than in the small courts of the neighbourhood where our laundresses usually dwell, or in the close passages of their houses. Kent's patent knife-cleaner is as much used, and as useful, as any of these domestic machines, though I prefer the leather-covered board. Pyro-silver knives seem to save labour, as they are cleaned like any spoon; wiped first, as all greasy knives should be, with paper, then washed in warm water and wiped with a cloth. My own pyro-silver knives keep very well and remain bright, but as they have valuable handles of elaborate Burmese ivory-carving they are carefully used. I have heard people say that the pyro-silver does not wear well, being easily scratched and otherwise injured. Balancing the sink on one side of the stove is the fuel-box, containing a quarter of ton of coal. This, in most of the new stoves, will last several weeks, and it may be bought in this small quantity at a time, or replenished from the usual coal-cellar. This consideration would be determined by the season, by whether the other stoves in the house burn gas or coal, and by the number of rooms requiring daily fires. The fuel-box should have a lid, forming a table for any temporary uses, or any of the less cleanly sorts of work--I will not say dirtier work, because in this system there should be no dirty work, nothing but what a lady may do without loss of dignity, and without injury to hands which in the afternoon will handle delicate needlework, and in the evening recreate themselves over the piano. And this leads us to speak of the systematic employment of lady-helps, in such cases as they may be a real comfort and assistance in a family, and not where they are expected to be perfect servants, who for small wages will relieve idle ladies from the difficulty of first obtaining and then enduring a few ignorant domestics. THE LADY-HELP. True position of a lady-help--Division of work in a family--The mother the best teacher--Marketing--Young lady-helps--Luncheon--Early dinners for children--Recreation--Preparing the late dinner--Evening tea--The lady-help a gentlewoman--Her assistance at breakfast--Her spare time --Tact. I use this title, not because I think it is the best, but because it is already in general use; though, as yet, very few people have any clear idea of what the true position of a lady-help should be. Some persons suppose they must treat her as a visitor, in which case she would be worse than useless, and such a situation could not possibly be permanent. Others think she must be employed precisely like an upper servant, and only look upon her as a means of escape from the penalties of their own position. In houses where there are grown-up daughters it is not necessary, nor even advisable, to employ any labour outside of the family beyond that of the charwoman, as previously described. The work may be so divided as to press too heavily on none, always bearing in mind, however, that, as "Life is real, life is earnest," there is real work to be done in every household, the aim being to lighten it by contrivance, and by utilizing modern inventions; in fact, making of science and social economy two valuable servants, instead of exalting them to be our masters, as we have all been doing lately. For, notwithstanding all our brilliant inventions, we have so multiplied our wants that life is neither easier nor cheaper than it was in the days when we knitted our own stockings, spun our own flax, and used strong handloom sheetings, and woollen cloths which were not made of shoddy. Let us take as a typical family a mother and three daughters, two of them grown up and one still a child--a by no means uncommon instance. The men and boys may be many or few, it makes little difference to our example. Probably the mother is not so strong as the grown-up daughters. She might make choice of the needlework department, or the teaching, supposing her own education to have been good; in which case she would add the benefit of her experience to every lesson given, rendering it far more valuable than instruction from a young teacher; as in all branches of study she would distinguish what is good and lasting from what is merely ephemeral, and we should have fewer flimsy pieces of music learnt to the exclusion of great masters, and fewer meretricious drawings on tinted paper, as we grow out of our admiration for these things at an early period, and home education would have a more solid groundwork. Young teachers are too apt to think they know everything, and only aim at their own standard of education, finished as they believe it to be. Perhaps the mother might prefer to reserve a general oversight, with only such lighter work as the breakfast-table as already described. The daughters could share the remaining work in the following manner. While the breakfast is being cleared away, one daughter, accompanied by her youngest sister, will arrange the bed-rooms, and dust the drawing-room and such parts of the dining-room as have not been included in the work of setting in order after breakfast. The little girl would rejoice in helping in this way--all children do; and when they have no real work of this kind, they imitate it with dolls' houses. Housekeeping is one of a girl's natural instincts; it is only quenched by accomplishments being put in its stead. While the manager of the needlework sees what requires her attention in that department, and plans it for unoccupied hours--keeping, perhaps, some fancy portion of it for pleasant work in the evening, while music or reading is going on--the daughter who is housekeeper for the week attends to the culinary arrangements, and considers what marketing will be required. She will, either alone or accompanied by one of her sisters, proceed to give her orders at the various shops, or go to the market and make her own selection. She will bring home some of the purchases herself--any parcel, for instance, that is no heavier than a little dog--but mostly the things will be sent to the house. Co-operative stores may or may not be an advantage to their customers--it is a disputed point; but two good things they have done for us: first, making us pay ready money for what we buy; secondly, doing away with the ridiculous fear we formerly had of being seen carrying a parcel. This expedition will have given our young heroine the necessary morning air and exercise, and it need not be so long as to prevent her enjoyment of a more ornamental walk in the afternoon--visits, or a cruise in the rink. In the case of there being only one grown-up daughter, a young lady-help may be thought an agreeable addition to the family. She would be a pleasant companion to the daughter, and they might share the work in the same manner as two sisters would do. If she were more accomplished, or better read, than the daughter of the house, this would be a source of improvement to the latter; or if the superiority were on the other side, the benefit resulting to the companion would be such as to make her endeavour, by increased usefulness, to show her sense of the advantages whereby she would be enabled to add to her acquirements. Much ease in daily life is obtained by dining early; but as this is seldom possible where fathers and husbands are out all day at their employments, the necessarily late dinner involves a sacrifice of our time and pleasure, which we must try to render as small a hardship as may be, and take as a duty what is such in reality. Luncheon for ladies is easily provided where there are no ravenous schoolboys and girls to cater for, because, as they will dine late, the luncheon need not be a hot spread meal. A tray with slices of cold meat, bread, butter, cheese, or perhaps some cold potatoes fried, or any easily warmed little dish remaining from yesterday's dinner, will make an ample luncheon, with a glass of beer or some claret. But if there are schoolboys and girls who come home to an early dinner, it is indispensable that it should be a real dinner, and no make-believe. The experience of schools and large families shows us that the cheapest and most wholesome fare for children is a joint of meat, with potatoes and another vegetable, a daily pudding, varied according to circumstances, bread, and beer. No adjuncts; neither pickles nor condiments, cheese nor dessert. All these _etceteras_ are superfluous and unwholesome, and entail extra plates and additional trouble to everybody. The joints of meat, with potatoes and Yorkshire pudding, are as well cooked at the baker's as at home, and with much saving of heavy work. The following is a good working-plan for a large family: a joint of meat roasted the first day, the next day cold, which is better for the children than having the joint cut in two and both parts eaten hot--cold meat is very good for them. The remainder may be stewed, or otherwise warmed up on the third day; and so forth, varied with boiled meat occasionally and fish once a week--on Friday in preference, as there is a better choice of it on that day, it being purveyed for the Roman Catholics and others who eat it on principle. Monday is the worst day for fish. The daily pudding should be simple, without sauce, and with very little spice. Spices become valuable medicines when not habitually taken with the food. It is a mistake to feed children entirely on meat and potatoes; this diet does not afford sufficient variety. Fruit and milk puddings are very wholesome and nourishing for children, and so is simple pastry, when made without baking powder, the frequent use of which is very lowering, as is the case with all alkalies. Luncheon over, the hours from two till half-past four are free for everybody. Now is the time for music-practice, walks, visits, and general recreation. Visitors drop in about this time, and may be encouraged to stay by the sight of the afternoon tea-table standing ready arranged in a corner of the drawing-room. The descent for five minutes of one of the ladies will be sufficient time to make the tea and produce a plate of biscuits, or the cake-basket. The gas may be lighted under the kettle at the time the door is opened to visitors. At half-past four the fire must be made up in the kitchen, and all things put in readiness to prepare the late dinner. This, in the interest of the health of all, and especially of those who return home tired and hungry, should not be later than six o'clock, where it is possible. The dinner and dessert occupy little more than an hour, and half an hour is sufficient to clear all away, and set the things ready for the next morning's breakfast. The cloth may be left spread on the table, only brushed and neatly laid. We have then a pleasant social evening left us; two hours and a half before ten o'clock, which may or may not be broken by an evening cup of tea, according to taste. Luxurious people, whose days hang heavily on their hands, are the fortune of the doctors. Among them we may include servants in large houses, who are, perhaps, more self-indulgent than any. And it is the habitual five meals a day required to fill up time in an opulent house, that contribute most to fill the pockets of the physician. It is pleasant, certainly, for an occasional change, to stay in a house where at nine o'clock the butler and two footmen stalk in with the tea-tray and its appurtenances; but the main, though unacknowledged, cause of the ceremonial is, that it may be seen that the men-servants are at home in the evening, and not at the public-house. As a daily habit, however, the continual breaking up of time caused by the ever-recurring meals is very tiresome to those whose occupations are so unnecessarily hindered. It has been shown that the daily housework for a small family is not too arduous to be undertaken by the members of that family, in any case where the grown-up ladies in the house are two or more. But in the circumstance of a young wife and mother, it were better that she should not attempt to cope with the greater part of the household work, especially if she be alone in the house all day, or with young children only. The sense of solitude is too depressing, and all unshared labour is much heavier. In case of her having no sister, or female friend or relation, to whom she might be glad to offer a home, she should seek a cheerful lady-help, who would be pleased to feel she is putting her time to profit. And if strong, healthy, and a skilful manager, the lady-help will find how far more interesting this varied work may be made, than the drudgery of sitting in a dreary school-room as governess to a tribe of tiresome children, where her only recreation is the monotonous daily walk; or the more independent, but far more laborious, occupation of a fine-art needleworker, to whom eight hours' continuous daily toil are obligatory. As far as I can see and judge by letters written to the _Queen_ and other papers, and the jokes in _Punch_, the difficulty, almost impossibility, of getting gentlewomen as helps is the drawback to their being put forward as a solution of the domestic difficulty. The engagement of half-educated or pretentious daughters of small tradespeople is by no means desirable, either for themselves or for us. We do not wish them to be our companions, yet they must be treated with a greater degree of familiarity than ordinary servants; and if they are allowed to be on a nominal footing of equality, it can only tend to lower the tone of the whole household. But the lady-help, in an establishment suited to the feelings of such an one, may easily be a gentlewoman by birth and education, and not a lady in name merely. As regards the invasion of domestic privacy, which has ever been found such a disadvantage where a companion, or a governess, is always the sharer of our meals and conversation, it is by no means necessary, hardly even possible, that this should be the case with a lady-help; except at breakfast, when it is surely no hardship, but the contrary--indeed, it must be a pleasure--to have at our children's most important meal the assistance of a lady whose care of their wants prevents our own breakfast being uncomfortably hurried. For breakfast is unlike dinner-time in this, that as husband and wives have already had plenty of time for all they wish to say to each other, the presence of a third person is not inconvenient, while at their reunion about dinner-time, when each has the day's adventures to relate and comment upon, a stranger is sometimes in the way. Indeed, it is one of the greatest difficulties in the lady-help system, that of necessity she cannot sit at table while serving the dinner. The greater number of ladies will be as well pleased to have their spare time for their own pursuits, as to be obliged to sit in the drawing-room all the evening, trying to seem amused with doing nothing. A lady offering herself for work of this kind will generally be of an energetic temperament, and able to employ her leisure profitably in reading, drawing, or needlework, or perhaps she may have her own piano in her room. It would frequently conduce to the comfort of all parties if she had an invitation, which she might accept or refuse, to join the drawing-room circle; and this should be given on occasions when it is likely to be agreeable to her, at such times as her necessary duties will cause no awkwardness to herself, the mistress, or the guests. Exercise of tact will be frequently called for, no doubt, in this avowedly the weak part of the scheme; but with wit, invention, and a hearty endeavour to make a subordinate position as little painful as possible, many difficulties will be tided over, and when once the novelty of the method is worn off, many little complications, by being less thought of, will be less felt. Where a governess is kept as well as a lady-help, the two ladies could enjoy life together quite independently of the general company; and it might be found perfectly compatible with their avocations to give them permission to invite their personal friends to spend their evenings occasionally with them. In the case of the daughters of the house taking its duties upon themselves (and no one can consider it an ungraceful service to wait upon a father), the way would be smoothed by common endeavour of all the members of the family, and much kindly courtesy would be aroused, and earnest effort to give the least possible trouble; all of which should be done in the case of the lady-help. When we go more deeply into the detail of the dinner, which is the _pièce de résistance_ of the day's programme, we will endeavour to show how, by careful fitting and steady guidance, the wheels of the domestic machine may run smoothly and noiselessly in their grooves, especially if the oil of good humour be plentifully supplied. And several suggestions will be offered, which, however, must be looked on merely as suggestions, and not as essential parts of the system; for in every household there will be modifications, according to the infinite variety of tempers, tastes, and habits of the family. THE DINING-ROOM. Carpets and curtains--Picture hanging and frames--Distemper colouring for cornices--Oval dining-table--Sideboard for breakfast service-- Beauty of English porcelain--A London dining-room--Giulio Romano's banquet--Growing plants--The large sideboard--Dinner-service--Styles of dinner--Food in due season--Gracefulness of flowers and fruits--Fresh fruit better than preserves--Communication between kitchen and dining-room --Remarks on plate--Table decorations. Having given a sketch of the kitchen, I must now fill up that of the dining-room, which we left after the breakfast was cleared away. As the gas-tripod, the spirit-lamp, and the large bowl for washing the china and other crockery have been already described, we may proceed to consider what more immediately relates to the dinner-table; since the rest of the furniture need not materially differ from what is at present in use. In selecting a carpet for the dining-room, let us remember that a Brussels carpet is more easily brushed and kept clean, than are Turkey or Indian carpets. If it be made with a border, and the floor stained and varnished all round at a width of from one to two feet from the wainscot, beside being cheaper to begin with than a fitted carpet, it is more artistic in appearance, and more readily taken up periodically to be beaten; while a long brush easily dusts the varnished margin, and a damp cloth tied over a harder broom will wash it in case of necessity. Bordered square carpets are the more durable, as they are able to be turned round as one part becomes unduly worn. The best kind of curtains for a dining-room are of some rich-looking woollen stuff, thick enough not to require lining. Rep is very serviceable, but there are many more curious foreign fabrics which may sometimes be met with at no very great cost. Curtains ought to run easily on a pole, either of wood or metal. If of metal, it should not be very large, as the size of a hollow rod does not add to its strength. Curtain rings can be sewn on at home, and so can any cord that may be thought desirable at the edge, though this does not often improve curtains from an artistic point of view. There is no need of the upholsterer's intervention, which mostly doubles the price of the curtains. The height from the floor to the top of the window should be measured, and the requisite number of yards of material bought, allowing a margin for curves in the folds of the drapery. The rods should be sufficiently long to allow the curtains to hang entirely upon the wall, not overhanging the window in the least. This preserves the drapery, and keeps it from fading, while it does not exclude the light. The curtains should be ample enough to cover the window completely when the shutters are shut, without leaving a streak of opening. They should likewise extend to the ends of the pole, so as comfortably to keep out the draught. If muslin curtains are used, they may conveniently be tacked inside the woollen ones about half-way; this will keep the latter from some dust. A few additional rings can be slipped on the pole, to which the remaining central parts of the muslin will be gathered. Curtains should touch the floor, or nearly so, but they need never be allowed to lie in heaps on the ground, as was formerly the fashion; and the voluminous folds sustained by brackets have been advantageously exchanged for a simple band to hold back the curtain. Our mothers and grandmothers were certainly victims to their upholstery; we have improved in this respect. It does not take many minutes to unhook our curtains, shake them free from dust, and hang them up again; we have no complicated pulleys to get out of order perpetually, nor ponderous cornices with heavy valances, and wonderful gimp and fringe. Those were fine times for the upholsterers! Do not hang your dining-room pictures very high; few of us tower above six feet, and it is easier for those who do so to stoop, than for the rest of us to stand on tip-toe; we must consider the convenience of the majority. Money is well expended on picture-frames, as when they are handsome and chosen with taste, they enhance our enjoyment of the pictures. But a costly frame is not always a good one, and when gilt composition runs riot in ferns and fantastic flames, as we frequently see it do around mirrors, its effect is barbaric, rather than elegant. Broad flats in gilt plaster are less excellent than gold laid on the wood itself. For prints, where economy has to be much considered, few frames are better than those of flat oak with a bevelled edge, and on the flat a slight design of graceful lines made with the parting-tool, and only the lines gilt. Pictures, if small and numerous, should not be dotted about the walls, but grouped. One sometimes see walls as spotted as a currant-dumpling. A band of wood, called a grazing line, behind the chair-backs protects the wall, and is an aid to picture hanging, by giving a line from which we may measure their bases. If there are many large pictures, they should be hung from a rod placed near the ceiling, or a foot lower, if an ornamental band of paper is carried round the top of the room below the cornice. If the cornice is not already "picked out," as the decorators term it, in colour--that is, delicately tinted in distemper--it should be done, as it is a great improvement. It is not difficult to do this for one's self. The necessary materials are a pennyworth of whitening, a pennyworth of size, and of the required tints a pennyworth. Break up some whitening into saucers, mix it with water until it is of the consistence of thick cream, add a tablespoonful of melted size to each saucer, shake in about a teaspoonful of powdered colour to each, and apply with a badger or hog-hair paintbrush. Strong colours become pale tints when mixed with the whitening, and the mixture dries paler than it is applied. To paint the ground on which the plaster design is embossed gives a cameo effect and is elegant, but sometimes it is better to colour the raised ornaments. Taste must be the guide here. This quantity of material is sufficient to tint every cornice in the house. Splashes of the colour are easily wiped off while the mixture is wet. Where the family is small, an oval table, like we generally see in France, is the most convenient form; as the master and mistress sit facing each other at the narrowest part of the oval, where they can communicate freely with each other, and more easily dispense the general hospitality. A table of this shape is lengthened by leaves inserted in the central division; when quite closed it is a round table. A dumb-waiter placed at the right hand of the mistress enables much personal waiting to be dispensed with. If the dining-room be large, it is desirable to have two sideboards, one larger than the other. The breakfast things should adorn (for that is what they really ought to do) the smaller sideboard. With all the beauty and comparative cheapness of our Worcester and other pottery, we ought, in every family, to possess such a collection of beautiful objects for daily use as should for ever prevent our sighing after the palmy days of Greek art. I was at Sèvres not long ago, and while going over the porcelain factory there, I mentioned that I had been over that at Worcester. "Ah, then, madame," said the official, "we can show you no more; you have indeed seen all." And had we no careless and ever-changing servants to shatter our elegant treasures, we might have in daily use objects which would enrich a museum, and train our eyes to a higher perception of beauty; and we should learn to value our porcelain, not for its rarity, but for its intrinsic merit. Look at our picturesque coffee and tea pots, our elegant cups, and well-painted bowls. Why should they always be concealed in china closets, or consigned to kitchen-dressers, while our dining-room walls are too often bare and cheerless?--a few dismal prints, hung too high to be seen or easily dusted, being frequently the only adornments of a darkened room, like a waiting-room at a railway station for emptiness of anything to occupy the mind, yet which ought to be one of the pleasantest and brightest in the house. Instead of which cheerful appearance, here is a sketch of a regulation dining-room in one of London's broadest brown streets: a room always dark in winter, but in summer exposed to glaring sun and a plague of flies. As soon as a window is opened to cool the stifling air, a simoom of dust rushes in from the road, and from the dust carts heavily moving to the slow music of the "Trovatore's" _Miserere_, adding a bass to the noise of cabs whirling by to the waltz tunes of "Daughter Angot" and "La belle Hélène." Tables, chairs, and sideboard are remarkable for nothing but representing so many tons of mahogany embellished with the grinning heads of griffins. Curtains powerfully scented with dust, a large chimney-glass made over to the flies, a heavy bronze machine with ponderous weights and pulleys, all smelling very strongly of gas, chiefly useful for casting deep shadows upon the dining-table. The bean-green carpet, monotonizing with the pea-green walls, whereon hang divers prints of subjects undiscoverable, because they are skied as high as the ceiling will allow, and two "old masters," as two oil paintings are called; one a bitumen-brown Wouvermans, or somebody else, with the hind leg of a gray horse in the foreground, and in the sky a patch of cloud caught in a tree. The other "gem" had been bought at a sale under the impression that its subject was "Angels adoring the Infant Saviour," but which on closer investigation turned out to be two wicked old drunkards playing at cards, purporting to be by a Dutch master. Could even Giulio Romano's artistic festival have been enjoyed in such a room as this, which is only a fair specimen of the modern British banquet hall? Hear a short extract from Benvenuto Cellini's description of it. After speaking of the rich dress of all the guests and the beauty of the ladies, he continues: "When they had taken their seats, every man produced a sonnet on some subject or other"--for they were a company of poets and artists--"and Michelagnolo read them aloud in a manner which infinitely increased the effect of their excellence. The company fell into discourse, and many fine things were said, and dinner was served up. Behind our backs there were rows of flower-pots, filled with beautiful jessamines, which seemed to heighten the charms of the young ladies beyond expression. Thus we all, with great cheerfulness, began to regale ourselves at that elegant dinner. After our repast was over we were entertained with a concert of music, both vocal and instrumental, and an _improvisatore_ recited some admirable verses in praise of the ladies." We could only on very rare occasions have rows of pots of jasmine placed behind our chairs, but we might easily grow an elder plant to keep off the flies. The Swiss scarlet-berried elder (_Sambucus rufus_) is graceful in growth, and will endure some hard usage. Flower-pots may also be allowed to remain on the table, unless the plants are cherished pets, and then they will be placed where they can receive the sun and air. Plants growing outside the windows, especially climbers wreathing the window-frames, give an appearance of size to rooms by bringing air into the perspective. The picturesque effect of the forms of foliage relieved against the paler sky is very pleasing, and it breaks the stiff straight lines of the window better than any drapery. The glory of the dining-room is its large sideboard. This, where there is a second sideboard, may be either in the same style or in complete contrast to it. Here the larger pieces of earthenware and porcelain should be displayed to advantage. These are such things as salad bowls and outside pie-dishes, which may always remain in the dining-room, and the whole of the dessert-service, with the ornaments and table decorations. The glasses and decanters should always be elegant, and although in my opinion the Venetian glass is by far the most beautiful kind, still our own crystal and engraved glass is often exquisitely lovely, and the sunshine playing through the prismatic decanter knobs, and other cut glass ornaments, gives an unrivalled lustre to the summer dinner-table. Breakages under careful, delicate handling would be less frequent than they are now, so that the expense of procuring glass and porcelain the best of their kind would not be felt to be the extravagance it is now. It will be said that for all this display of glass and china an enormous sideboard will be required, at as enormous a cost. And the first objection I concede, without, however, admitting it to be a fault. Why should not the sideboard be, if necessary, as large as the side of the room? But the cost may be less than that of an ordinary dinner-waggon. It might be constructed as a series of shelves, ranged as high as can be conveniently reached, broken by cellarettes and other cupboards or cabinets, hung with worked curtains, the shelves merely backed by paper made like embossed leather. There is an infinite variety of styles and forms in which the sideboard may be made; from the gorgeous mass of carved oak and velvet, set with golden shields, and cups, and services of gold plate, such as I have admired on the dining-room walls of a palace built on the ruins of an abbey, down to the stained deal dresser-shaped sideboard of a house of fifty pounds a year, where it would only be decked with graceful, yet unpretending, china and terra-cotta, where its curtains would be of brown holland worked in crewels, and its intrinsic ornaments the burnished brass locks, hinges, and handles. Yet as fine taste might be visible in one as in the other. The table-cloth, table-napkins, and spoons and forks should be laid in drawers, as such seems their befitting place; and salt-cellars, and other diminutive articles containing condiments, may be put away behind small curtains, or veils, of decorative needlework, to shelter them from the dust, as well as to give an opportunity for the display of rich and elegant furniture embroidery, adapted in style to the carvings, plaques, inlaid work, or other adornments of the sideboard. The piles of plates--as many of them must almost of necessity be in piles--will be also concealed and protected by curtains, or behind doors turning on pivots, which, where they are available, are far better than hinges. The quantity of plates wanted for the daily use of the family must be kept in the kitchen, as they will be washed there, and need to be warmed in readiness for dinner; but dinner and dessert plates that are not used for greasy comestibles will be rinsed in the dining-room, and rearranged at once. I know some old Bristol china butter boats of such simple but elegant form, that the curves of the nautilus shell are hardly more graceful. Yet these things had been banished to a kitchen dresser until I implored their release; and now, in the present Bristol china mania, they are promoted to a drawing-room table, a place quite as unsuitable as was the kitchen dresser. Among useful decorations for the sideboard, some of the prettiest I have seen are the Venetian curved bottles for holding oil and vinegar. They are fixed in a glass stand, and as the curved necks of the flask-shaped bottles bend over across each other, by taking up the stand either oil or vinegar may be poured out without spilling the other condiment, and the flasks require no stoppers, as their curve is sufficient to keep out the dust, though occasionally a glass dolphin is stuck in the mouth of each bottle. This simple yet ingenious contrivance is far prettier than our somewhat vulgar cruet-stand. Moorish brass salvers add colour and brightness to the sideboard, in families where silver salvers and presentation plate are not matters of course. A simple style of dinner is more elegant, as well as more healthful, than one more elaborate. Let it vary with each day rather than with every course: the dinner will thus preserve a character of its own, better than where this is frittered away among so many dishes that you cannot remember off what you have dined. There is a medium between this fidgety _menu_ and the monster joints we sometimes burden ourselves with. It requires judgment to take the right line. We need not attempt, in our everyday dinner, to realize Disraeli's ideal of dining: "eating ortolans to the sound of soft music." But we may try to make our dinner an enjoyment as well as a refreshment; and although our set banquets may be rare, taste and attention will impart to every meal something of the character of a feast. Stress must be laid on the importance of having every article of food in its due season. Independently of the hygienic value of the change of diet so supplied, which is in itself a substitute for many tonic and alternative medicines, attention to this point will give us luxuries when we may reasonably afford them. Salmon is as nice when it is a shilling a pound as when it is four times that price, and venison is by no means an expensive viand if the market be watched. If we only think of ribs of beef and legs of mutton, we shall only get beef and mutton. But if we take Nature for our guide, we need not deny ourselves the most gratifying and healthful variety. It is essential that we should eat the fresh fruits as they are ripe, and this rule is equally necessary as regards vegetables. Indeed, in summer we should accustom ourselves to think more of the vegetable food than of meat; to arrange our dinner in this department primarily, considering what dainty dishes we may concoct of flour and vegetables fried, boiled, and baked, dressed with oil or milk, herbs or spices, incidentally adding the meat--in fact, reversing our usual order of proceedings, where we construct our dinner plan of solid meat, only throwing in vegetables or fruit by way of garnish. But what I wish to dwell on now is not so much the quantity of vegetable produce we ought to consume, as the necessity of its seasonableness. When our cooks, be they noble, gentle, or simple, have come to study the medicinal properties of plants--how they act upon the different organs of the body, and so on--they will see how beautifully they are adapted by the great Provider to our bodily requirements, according to the weather and other circumstances, and how often what grows best in any situation or soil is the aliment best suited to our own growth in that situation. If we attended more to this point, our digestions would have sufficiently varied exercise to keep them in healthy working order, and we should hear less about what does or does not agree with people. It is of more consequence that our digestions should be permitted to work at regular hours, than that they should have an over-easy diet. This, indeed, is absolutely injurious to them. Persons sometimes feel ill, and whatever they may happen to have fed upon is loaded with the responsibility, and that article of diet is cut off for ever from their list, and its hygienic benefit lost to the constitution. The blame is never laid on irregularity, want of air, exercise, or occupation, excitement or perhaps temper, or upon circumstances generally. Either the weather or the food, irrespective of the quantity taken, is charged with every ill. If we took care to make pictures of our dishes of fruit, they would afford us two delightful sensations instead of one. To do this it is not needful to have heaps of fruits, or pyramids of pines. A plum on a leaf, an orange on a china tile, with a branch of flowers laid across it, make exquisite pictures. See how we appreciate the form and grace of a single flower in a specimen glass, so that we cannot now endure to see the mass of crushed flowers we used to call a nosegay; the very word, so descriptive of the bundle, being done away with the thing itself. The old nosegay gave us the scent and gay colours of the flowers, but their tender grace had fled. Now they are delightful to their very stems. Provident housekeepers have so impressed upon our minds the necessity of caring for the future, that we have been taught to make jam of our most delicious fruits, denying ourselves their fresh beauty and fragrance at our tables, while we roast ourselves over preserving pans in the hottest days of July. This, besides being martyrdom, is a work of supererogation, as the fruit is nicer fresh, and to buy it for the sake of keeping it is absurd, as it can but be eaten once. It is a very reasonable practice in the case of persons possessing large fruit-gardens, as much might otherwise be spoiled; but in our town households it is trouble taken in vain. We all know the difference it makes to our dinners whether they are served up hot, or only lukewarm; and this alone gives a sufficient reason why we should insist upon the kitchen being close to the dining-room. Where there is no possibility of making a door of immediate communication, we should try our utmost to get a slide-window between the two rooms, so that the dishes, and indeed the whole paraphernalia that necessarily moves from kitchen to dining-room, may be placed on a slab at the said window on one side, and taken in at the other side. If two persons are engaged in performing this work, one dishing up and placing on the window slab, and the other putting the things on the dining-table, it will be very expeditious, but it may be quite easily managed by one person. The slide-window, either a sash or a sliding-door, saves much running to and fro. I will conclude my remarks upon dining-room furniture with a few words about plate. The bulk of the plate in daily use in the houses of the upper middle-class is electro-silver, and it is very admissible, being strong, durable, and agreeable to use; and when made in the ordinary fiddle or threaded patterns is useful without being pretentious. But when it expands into Albert patterns, king's patterns, and the like--when, in short, it claims intrinsic value, and pretends to be silver--it becomes vulgar immediately, because it represents a snobbish feeling which is bent on making a show with a sham. We cannot all afford silver plate, though doubtless we should all like it, but all of us wish to have the most agreeable medium with which to eat our food, and for this purpose electro is as good as silver. It is better, in purchasing, to buy the best quality, as it is so much more durable, and it always looks better. For dessert knives and forks, those with mother-of-pearl handles are the best; the colour is so pleasant, and they are very easily cleaned. Should you happen to be the fortunate possessor of old plate, let nothing induce you to do as many weak persons are talked into doing: exchange it for modern patterns. Modern plate is seldom of even moderately good design. The object of the manufacturer seems to be to crowd upon it as lumpy an embossed ornament as possible, to make it massive, and remind us of so much per ounce. This was not the motive of the old silversmiths, who more frequently engraved than embossed their ornaments. Most of the old engraved silver is delightful, and it is very light. The Queen-Anne plate, now so keenly sought, is of admirable workmanship and good design, though the edges are rather thin and sharp for comfort in use. It is worth while having nice electro dish-covers, as the ugly tin ones sometimes seem to have such a very miserable appearance. It will not be necessary to possess many, and they will come to no harm in our elegant kitchen. They may be either hung up or stood on the dresser; the former way is preferable, and rings to suspend them by are easily attached. Dish-covers should be warmed before they are put on, as a cold metal cavern chills a leg of mutton almost to the marrow. Real silver ornaments for the dinner-table are very precious, but failing these, we may make our tables very elegant with Parian, glass, or even wicker ornaments; and the most interesting of any adornments are vases and dishes painted on porcelain by members of the family. I am sorry to see so many small vulgarities introduced in the shops in the way of _menu_ holders, and other so-called ornaments. Grotesque is all very well, but it should show a light, delicate play of fancy; and things comic are very amusing when they are not vulgar. But the degenerate caricatures we see about now, mark a tendency to flatter the lowest order of taste, which, if followed, will inevitably drag our conversation down with it. These silly table-decorations began with caricatures of the men who carry the sandwich placards up and down the streets, and daily I see them acquiring all the bad style of common burlesques, or of the cheap valentines. THE DRAWING-ROOM. Social pressure--Agreeable evening parties--Troubles of party-giving --Musical parties--Flowers on a balcony--Window-gardening--Crowded drawing-rooms--The library or study--Gas, candles, and candlesticks --Original outlay on furniture--Different styles of furniture-- Raffaelesque decorations--Carpets, curtains, and chair coverings-- Portières--Window blinds--Rugs--Care required in buying furniture-- Ornaments--Dusting--Chiffoniers useless--Portfolio stand--Mirrors. This section of our subject involves our relations with society; and here not even our vanity can make us believe that modern customs are really improvements. What chance has any lady of our time of emulating the graceful manner in which Madame Récamier held her salon, although she may have as much learning as Madame de Staël? We are too heavily weighted, our social intercourse is too complicated, too much clogged with ceremony, to move easily; and where our highest faculties should be allowed full play, we find so much hard work and consequent fatigue, that we look upon every dinner and evening party in the light of an uphill road with a difficult team to drive. We all know and applaud the French manner of visiting. Receiving friends on a stated day of the week, simply enjoying their society, and exerting the intellectual faculties instead of merely opening the purse for their entertainment. Why have we so seldom the courage to follow this example? It is because we fear to show less well to the eyes of our acquaintance if our own habits seem less expensive than theirs. A low purse-pride is at the bottom of it all. Our dress must be costly and perpetually changing, our servants and establishment must be displayed, if we are ourselves smothered beneath their weight. So we give up our precious daylight to morning calls, as we ridiculously call those visits of ceremony which are paid in the afternoon. These afford us no pleasure, while they are an infliction to the people called upon. Do not most of us know the feeling of relief that we have after paying a round of visits, when, on finding, as the day was fine, the greater number of our friends from home, we return with an empty card-case, and say, with the complacency of self-satisfied persons who have done their duty, "There, that is done and need not be done again for a month." Whereas we are sorry when even our slight acquaintances "regret they cannot accept" our invitations to an evening party, when we might enjoy their company, and they the society of each other, at the same time, and at a reasonable hour for enjoyment. Our "at homes" are on a radically wrong principle. We crowd our rooms, we insist on late hours and fullest dress, and our pleasure in consequence becomes a toil. But how agreeable is the easy evening gathering in a cheerful and early lighted drawing-room, where few or many welcome guests drop in, knowing it to be our "at home" day. Where we talk and sip tea, play and sing, or amuse ourselves, if clever, with paper games--capital promoters of laughter and whetstones to the wits--and go away as early as we please. All to be over by half-past ten, at any rate, in order not to interfere with early rising next morning. I have found nothing, not even guinea lessons from eminent masters, more conducive to family improvement in music than this way of enjoying society, since one is obliged to have a few new things always at one's fingers' ends ready to perform; and in homely little parties like these, young girls "not yet out" may pass many pleasant evenings under their mother's wing, with real advantage to themselves. The simpler the dress worn by the ladies who are "at home," the better the taste shown. Here again we may learn much from the French, who perfectly understand the art of _demi-toilette_. Our theatres and concert-rooms are filled night after night by people who pay to be entertained. They never take food in their pockets, and the passing to and fro of sellers of refreshment is felt to be a nuisance. Why should people who have dined late be supposed to want supper, unless they have been dancing, or are sitting up later than is good for them? And the proof that they do not want it is in the very little they take of it, except some stout elderly ladies who prepared for it before they came, and who consequently have felt too low all the evening to be moderately cheerful. People who dine early always make a solid tea about six o'clock. It is only the _bourgeois_ class who love their hot suppers, and the taste stamps them. How can we use hospitality one towards another without grudging, when, instead of being able to rejoice that a friend is sharing our daily pursuits and repasts, we must spend a fortune in jellies, pastry, and unwholesome sweets, whenever we invite our friends inside our doors; when we are compelled to import from the confectioner piles of plates, dishes, and hired cutlery, turn our houses into scenes of confusion for a week, and feed our children upon what have been aptly called "brass knockers," the remains of the feast? No wonder most of us dread giving a party! No; I would have special banquets on special occasions--Christmas, comings of age, marriages, silver, and above all golden, weddings, welcomes from abroad, and other joyful days. But our enjoyment of society need not be limited to such observances as these, but rather the crop of friendship increased by attentive cultivation. "Has friendship increased?" asks wise Sir Arthur Helps. "Anxious as I am to show the uniformity of human life, I should say that this, one of the greatest soothers of human misery, has decreased." Lady Morgan, an experienced leader of society, used to tell me, "My dear, give them plenty of wax-candles and people will enjoy themselves;" to which I add, manage the music well, and teach your daughters to help you, and cultivate musical young men, keeping, however, the law in your own hands. Almost the only art we have not spoiled by machinery is music--for we do not consider the barrel-organ in the light of music. Perhaps it is because in this art we had scope for invention, not finding a good thing ready made to our hands by the Greeks, which we might imitate mechanically, and become slaves of its tradition. Possibly it is a blessing in disguise that the music of the ancients is lost to us, for having no models we have no fetters. There is, however, in music, less liberty for the performer than for the master-inventor; and this is as it should be: we interpret his greater mind. Wilful music is seldom pleasing. What Ruskin says about truth of line in drawing applies equally to music: In the rapid passages of a _presto_ by Beethoven, the audience at St. James's Hall would know if Hallé played one single note out, even if he slightly touched the corner of a wrong black key; for our ears have been wonderfully trained. And the time must be as accurate as the tone, and the proper degree of light and shade must be expressed, or you are no master. What must it be to be the creator of the music which it is so difficult even to copy! Yet in our drawing-rooms we permit people to talk all the time music is being played, showing respect neither to the composition nor to the performer. This should not be, and abroad this ill-bred custom has not obtained. There is, however, something to be said on the other side. The music we hear in society is frequently either flimsy and not worth studying; or it is too difficult for the capacity of the performer, perhaps having been learnt in too idle a manner, in which case conversation shields the composer. But the chief cause of the distressing rudeness complained of, is that there is too much music at a party, and it is not well arranged. Glees are got up and fail deplorably; harps and flutes are not in tune with other instruments; people accompany songs they have never seen before; and much time and talk are consumed in wishing for absent tenor or bass voices. A little good music would have been delightful; the noise of so many imperfect efforts is only a bore. In our parties we carelessly lose Nature's purest delights: those which appeal most strongly to our finest perceptions. Is it not true enjoyment to sit among the roses on a balcony listening to a sweet voice within singing an air of Schubert or Mozart? And if the charm be enhanced by moonlight, it is a pleasure for the gods! It is true that roses will not flourish on London balconies, the coal-smoke being so injurious to them; but pinks, and many other fragrant flowers, grow well and easily, without the cost of frequent renewal required for roses. The general use of window gardens, and the due encouragement of greenery over our houses, would tend much to improve our vitiated atmosphere, and we may have the gratification of feeling that we are doing good to our neighbours while we cultivate plants for our own benefit. Perhaps, by-and-by, a tax may be charged upon every empty window-sill. The front and back of every house would make a good-sized bit of garden, only it will be perpendicular instead of horizontal. We ought all to grow our own pears trained against the walls, as these ripen as well in town as in the country; and most of us might dwell under our own vines and fig-trees. A balcony, however small it may be, is an extra room, and frequently it is a good play-room for children if kept clean and well syringed. No training is better for children than the culture of flowers--it unites work and play with every advantage of both. It is an education in itself. Mr. Gladstone calls the love of flowers a peculiarly English taste. He seems to have forgotten the special fondness for plants shown by the French and Belgians; though the Dutch tulip mania reminds one somewhat of a commercial speculation. His remarks on the children's flower-show held at Grosvenor House merit particular attention. He observes that owing to the increased value of land, large masses of the population are removed from contact with nature, and at this period it is important that every family should learn that they possess a resource in the cultivation of flowers both in their cottages and windows, and at every point where contact with the open air may be obtained. He hopes that with the needful improvements in the dwellings of the poor, some means may be devised for fostering cottage horticulture and cottage floriculture. Wind and scorching sunshine are the great adversaries to window gardening, but both of these evils may be obviated by simple contrivances in the way of screens. Very few plants can be cultivated in our sitting-rooms with advantage either to themselves or to our furniture. They are greatly injured by gas, as well as by the dry heat of our fires, while they cause a dampness in the atmosphere which speedily produces mildew and other ill effects of moisture. We should bear in mind, in furnishing a drawing-room, that the guests are the principal part of the furniture, and leave sufficient space for the number we wish our room to hold. A drawing-room as empty as one of Orchardson's pictures may be overcrowded by twenty people. The walls may be adorned to profusion with objects of taste, without their inconveniently occupying space; but tiny tables and flower-pot stands are often in jeopardy. In a room crowded with furniture the guests cannot circulate--one because there is not space enough to pass between a lady's dress and the small table with a vase upon it that is so likely to be upset; another because an ottoman just before her keeps her a prisoner on the sofa where she was planted on entering the room--until ladies are thankful to do a little something inaudible at the piano as a pretext for moving, and gentlemen are only too glad to be required to force a passage in the service of a lady. And this not merely in the absurd and terrible crush at an "at home" in the London season, but at a simple evening party anywhere. It is often agreeable to have several afternoon tea-tables in the drawing-room, as the ladies can pair off at each, and become pleasantly acquainted while serving each other. But in the case of large musical "at homes," it is better to have refreshments served in the dining-room, as the clatter of spoons and the bustle of waiting disturbs the music; besides injury being often done by ice plates left about, tea spilt, and crumbs trodden into the carpet. We will now leave the subject of parties and study the drawing-room in its ordinary appearance as the sitting-room of the family out of working hours. A drawing-room should be used, and look as if it were used, and if used properly it need never be dirty nor in disorder. A library, or study, greatly aids the drawing-room by preventing its too indiscriminate use. Indeed, where boys and girls have school-work to prepare, this is almost a matter of necessity, as there is neither rest nor comfort for their elders while lessons are going on; and if other members of the family occupy themselves much in writing or painting, it is a great hindrance to have to remove their paraphernalia every time the table is required for some other purpose. The room may be called a study, morning-room, or library, according to its purpose, bearing in mind that although the name is more high sounding, a library with few books is only ridiculous. And when there are many and good books, the room must be held in great respect, and those who use it trained to extreme neatness and order. I find it a good plan to instal my eldest son as responsible librarian at a small salary; he sees that the younger children put away their books after them. A gas-standard lights a study better than anything else for general use, though "the Queen's reading lamp" is good for weak eyes. The standard must be firm on its base, so as not easily to upset; it is less in the way if it stands on the floor rather than on the table, and it should be capable of being raised to the height of six feet, or lowered to any point. It ought to be easily movable in any direction, and the tube long enough to admit of its being placed in any part of the room. The only kind of tubing that really prevents a disagreeable smell escaping from the gas is the snake tubing. I had at first a kind that was dearer than the ordinary india-rubber tubing, but, although assured by the gasfitter that it would be inodorous, I was obliged to change it for the snake, for which I paid twelve shillings, and have had no trouble since. We all know that wax candles are the nicest and most becoming light for a drawing-room; but they are dear, and candlesticks, however elegant, require frequent cleaning. The commoner kind of candles are greasy, and grease is very troublesome when it drops about, though wax and sperm are readily removed by warming the spots. There is a kind of candle called the dropless candle which answers very well to its name. Paraffin, and almost all patent candles, fill the air with burnt smoke, and this, to many people, is insufferable. Sperm candles are preferable to any others for general use at the piano and for bed-rooms. And candles need not be an expensive item when a house is well fitted with gas, as much music practising may be done by daylight and gaslight; while in bed-rooms we ought not to require much length of candlelight. There is no need of more than one candle to be carried about, and that is for the person who turns off the gas to go upstairs with. An Italian _lucerna_ is a picturesque object for this purpose; oil is burnt in it--colza will do, though they burn olive oil in Italy, and it gives double the light of colza. On no account use petroleum, or any of the mineral oils. Besides their horrible smell and associations, all the kinds are more or less explosive, and for the little use for which we should require lamps, the difference in cost is trifling. One occasionally sees curious and quaint old iron or bronze candlesticks, and it is well to seize the opportunity of purchasing such treasures; but if not fortunate enough to get a better thing, it is easy to procure one of those funny little brass candlesticks, in the shape of a frying-pan, so commonly used in the Belgian hotels. As there are no servants in our model establishment, tallow candles need never be bought, and no candlebox will be required, nor any kitchen candlesticks, to be stuck periodically in a row in the fender to melt their grease and solder, and lose their extinguishers and snuffers. So we see, even in this small instance, how a young couple beginning to furnish will want few of these superfluities, and, not being compelled to buy common things for servants, may afford things of choice quality for themselves, and to these they may add others as time goes on. Take, for another example, the breakfast-cups; they may at first buy two very pretty cups and saucers for their own use, and a third equally pretty for their lady friend, or help, as they may like to call her; and either title is honourable, only one seems kinder than the other. And so they need not purchase what is called a whole set, or, more shopmanly, a "suite," comprising a dozen of almost everything, whose chief merit is in its completeness, of which we tire; and this merit is destroyed when on breaking one of the two bread-and-butter plates we find it is a last year's pattern, and cannot be matched at the shop without its being specially made for us. How much more we should be attached to a pretty thing if we could say of it: "Don't you remember we bought that cup when So-and-So came to stay with us?" Such associations endow everyday objects with life. The original outlay throughout the house may proceed in like manner, and spare rooms may be furnished after the other rooms. This would enable more young people to marry, and they need not go to a shop whose advertisements recommend them to furnish on the three years' system, by the end of which time they will have paid double the value of their furniture, and most of it will probably be discarded, or broken in pieces. Perhaps a day may come when nobody will heed an advertisement, and only look at a circular when they write memoranda on its clean side. Then our postmen will be spared the bulk of their work, which makes it a perpetual Valentine's-day for them. It is too visionary to hope that our eyes may cease to be distressed by posters blazing everywhere, or that nearly half of every book or newspaper we buy may not be made up of advertisements. But no more on this irritating topic, as I would only counsel those about to furnish not to be too much tempted with novelties, especially patent novelties. Some of us are beginning to tire of the mediævalism which was the natural reaction from the preposterous designs of the wall-papers, curtains, and other furniture which disguised our rooms--the ridiculous carpets with such patterns as orange-blossoms tied with white satin favours ("So sweet for a bride"), and rugs with huge blue roses. But we have now gone too far the other way, and made all our houses like "High" churches, not permitting even the simplest unconventional design to interfere with the severity of our Gothic taste. This is a mistake; for as our houses ought not to be turned into Greek temples, as they were in the time of the first French Empire, as little should they be decorated like Gothic churches. Many styles, and many beautiful yet diverse objects, may be made to harmonize by tasteful arrangement; and this freer latitude is well adapted to our varied moods and our many-sided lives. Few people of moderate means can carry out one style in its entirety. I have seen a very handsome drawing-room fitted up perfectly in the Louis Quatorze style, and spoiled by some German bead-mats on the table; and some of the most beautiful upholstery I ever saw, of Neo-Greek designs painted on straw-coloured satin, covering chairs of purely Greek form, looked droll on a Brussels carpet with fuchsias upon it. Twenty years ago, people of taste and pretension to archæological knowledge furnished their houses in the Elizabethan style, with the result of uncomfortable furniture abounding in anachronisms. The Queen Anne style, so fashionable at present, is far better suited to modern requirements than is the Elizabethan, which is of necessity kept exclusively English. The Jacobean style too is less rigid, as we may with propriety consider that much French and Italian elegance had been imported into the court of Scotland by the two French queens and Mary Stuart. The possession of a portrait by Vandyke would be of itself enough to make one wish to furnish a house in the stately and elegant style of his time. Although it may not be so pure in taste, the style of the Renaissance is eminently adapted for comfortable household service. The delicate arabesques and grotesques followed from Raffaelle's adornments of the Vatican are not too precious for use in household decoration--where painting cannot be expected to last as long as pictures framed and out of reach of daily handling--and yet they are graceful enough to refresh without exciting a tired mind. Any one possessing artistic taste and some training can work out these fanciful decorations for home gratification, and being cherished, they will last three or four times as long as the graining of the house-painter. Besides, and this is a great consideration in cities, all the majolica ornaments and tiles, which are so suitable to this style of decoration, will wash, and be bright and clear for ever. Do not despise the Renaissance, for there is much delight in it, though not of the highest kind. We may keep the higher things for higher uses. A Brussels carpet of Persian pattern is very nice for a drawing-room, as it is unobtrusive, and yet it is cheerful, and suits most styles of furniture. This, like the dining-room carpet, had better be made with a border, and so as to allow of a margin of the floor round it being varnished. If edged with fringe its appearance is enriched; and I do not in practice find the fringe inconveniently displaced by ladies' dresses, nor in dusting, as I feared it might be when I added it to a carpet which required enlarging. The remarks on dining-room curtains and rods apply equally here, as it is of great consequence that the room should be easily cleaned. For a young couple beginning to furnish, it may be well to have some of the pretty _cretonnes_ for curtains and chair-coverings, which would last clean and bright while better were being worked on simple materials from patterns, either original or borrowed from the Art Needlework Society. Then the _cretonne_ curtains might be hung in the newly furnished spare bed-room. The chair-coverings would be replaced one by one as others were worked or nice materials met with. In doing fancy-work, it is better to make one good thing large enough to take a pride in, than countless little elegances, such as mats, antimacassars, table banner-screens, etc., which seldom last long, and are terribly in the way. The time consumed in making pincushions, pocket-tidies, and tiny knick-knacks, would serve to tapestry a room, let alone making curtains for it. Where there are fine views from the windows, they are better framed as pictures than curtained. Draperies, if they are very beautiful, are more favourably displayed when facing the light (as in the case of _portières_) than at the windows, where they are liable to fade, and the light shining through them hides their beauty. Draught more often enters from doorways than by the windows; and in summer doors are often unhung for the sake of coolness and additional space, and the _portières_ are comfortable to use on chilly days. Venetian blinds are the best of any interior blinds, though window awnings are much pleasanter in summer. Red tammy enriches the colour of the room, but it is not agreeable to sit long in a room filled with the flame-coloured light, though this softens as the blinds fade, which they soon do. Yellow blinds are very disagreeable, and tryingly sunny in summer. Blue are as unpleasantly cold, and make people look like ghosts. White holland gives as soft a light as any, and if carefully used the blinds will not go awry. Green tammy is good, but it soon fades. With a gas fire there is no occasion for a hearth-rug, though fur and other large rugs look very comfortable spread before the windows in winter, and Indian mats look cool in summer, and preserve the carpet from fading. In buying furniture it is safer to move cautiously. Seize, by all means, anything that strikes you as being "just the very thing," the moment you see it, or it may escape you for ever; but do not be beguiled into buying a whole "suite" of everything at once, because you think you may as well finish the work while you are about it, but let your taste, as well as wisdom, have time to grow. We all know the feeling of vexation we endure when we have committed ourselves to any particular thing, and find subsequently something which would have suited us very much better. Whatever you buy or make, do not let it be rubbish. Things ill considered get dreadfully in our way, and by-and-by we cannot endure their discordance; that is, if they last long enough for us to weary of them. When you purchase anything, remember that it has to be taken care of and dusted every day, and the smaller the trifle the more troublesome it is to keep clean. Think, before you buy it, whether or not you will like it when it is tarnished, and if you can value it sufficiently to devote thought and a minute of time to it every day for years. We squander our money on frippery--not in dress merely, but in hideous ornaments for our fire-places, in antimacassars of disagreeably suggestive name, in toys and trinkets and imitation rubbish of all kinds, which encumber our table-surfaces, and are dust-traps occupying the minds and mornings of our parlour-maids to keep them clean. We spend in this taste-destroying trash the change of the twenty pounds which would have bought one ornament of real beauty, which would only take the same time to dust as one of the fifty frivolities costing from half-a-crown to seven-and-sixpence each. This is mostly so much waste, or worse, because it helps the habit of foolish, ill-considered spending; and while we thus bedizen our drawing-rooms, we render them so uninhabitable that they fall out of use for our own comfort, and become merely show places for visitors. A long article might be written on dusting. We can hardly have too little of the carpet-broom (which all housemaids love to use every week to the detriment of our carpets), and hardly too much of the feather-brush for lightly touching curtains, walls, and pictures, or of the duster for rubbing furniture. If a little is done daily, furniture will never need polishing, but will always look bright, as dust will not have entered the crevices. It is easier, and also better for the durability of carpets, to take them up occasionally to be beaten, and have the dusty floor beneath them cleaned, than to have everything smothered weekly in the dust raised by the carpet-broom. A pair of steps is necessary in a house where cleanliness is attended to, to unhang curtains and pictures and replace them after dusting. The walls need to be whisked over weekly with the feather-brush. The elegant china and glass gaseliers which are now so general are easily cleaned with a damp sponge; those of Venetian glass are still more beautiful, and not much more expensive: these also can be washed with little trouble. Adopting the plan of cleaning one room each day, it will not take a great deal of time, or cause much fatigue; while the light daily dusting required is a mere nothing to any one doing it dexterously. I have a great dislike of chiffoniers; the very name presupposes them receptacles of _chiffons_ and lumber. I cannot see any use for them in a drawing-room. Music-books should be in the music-stand, a lady's work in her work-table, and books either in use or put away in the book-case. A portfolio-stand is of great service in preserving and displaying drawings and prints which require careful and practised handling. Sir Felix Slade, the eminent print-collector, used to complain that many persons, especially young ladies, made a bent mark with their thumbs in the margin of an engraving; he always insisted on having his prints taken up by what he called their north-west corner, and carefully laid on the print-stand. A portfolio-stand should have a piece of stuff laid over the books and cases, wrapped inside the woodwork of the stand. This is easily removed when the stand is in use; as it is left hanging down on one side, it keeps much dust from the pictures, and if of some nice silk or other stuff is ornamental in itself. A sofa with a rack-end to let down at pleasure at any angle is a great convenience, but such couches are not often made, unless especially ordered. Numerous mirrors injure the repose of a room, causing bewilderment; but one or two are pleasing, as they have the effect of water in a landscape, repeating the lines and echoing the forms of objects. They also tend to give space, though not to the same extent as pictures do, which are the most decorative of all ornaments; and when they are very good they rank with our most precious possessions. Brackets may be appropriately used for ornaments, such as terra-cotta and others; a few fine bronzes, besides being handsome in themselves, give value to the colouring of a room. BED AND DRESSING ROOMS. Ventilation--Window curtains and blinds--Bedsteads--Spring mattresses --Towels--Danger of fire at the toilet--Mantelpiece--Pictures and frames--Superfluous necessaries--Taine's criticisms--Aids to reading in bed--Service of the bath--Improvements in washstands--Arranging the rooms--Attics made beautiful--Sick-rooms--Neatness--Disinfectants-- Chlorine gas--Condy's solution--Filters--Invalid chairs--Generous efforts of the medical profession to improve the national health. We pass a third of our time in our bed-rooms when we are in health, and the whole of it when we are ill; therefore their ventilation and general arrangement demand our most earnest consideration. Some bed-rooms are draughty, occasioning cold and neuralgia, but the more common fault is that they are not airy enough; for with our extreme attention to what is called "English comfort," we too frequently make our bed-rooms almost air-tight. This causes restlessness by night and headache by day. It were far better to accustom ourselves to sleep with our windows open, as the night air is not at all injurious in dry weather, unless an east wind is blowing. We must be guided by the weather, and trim to the wind; our feeling will tell us whether we may, or may not, safely leave our windows open much more surely than the almanac. The time when windows should be shut throughout the house is when the dew is rising and falling; then the damp enters and saturates everything. People seldom attend to this point, but keep their windows open too late in the afternoon, which in Italy is recognized as the dangerous time. We have but little malaria in England, but what little there is is at work just before and after sunset. Many persons, too, who like myself have immense faith in fresh air, throw open their windows on leaving their rooms in the morning, regardless of whether the air be dry and warm, or whether a fog or bitter east wind will penetrate the whole house to damp or chill it. It is more prudent, in case of bleak or raw weather, to wait for an hour or two before opening the windows, ventilation from the door being sufficient for the room while it is empty. It is useless to lay down laws as to the windows in our variable climate. We must work by our natural thermometer, and let our skin perform one of its most useful functions and tell us whether it is cold or hot; but if our feelings are uncertain, give judgment in favour of fresh air. If your rooms have the old-fashioned long and narrow windows which are always found in houses built in the reigns of the early Georges, the Japanese paper curtains, being very cheap, are as good as any, the intention being to drape a skeleton window, which curtainless is a dismal object. But more modern windows should not, or at least need not, have long hanging curtains, but only just sufficient to cover the window without leaving a streak of light. The drapery may hang from one side or from both, according to taste; but unless you are very particular to admit no light in your bed-room, a mere valance, or some ornament at the top of the window, is enough. For instance, some pretty design in fretwork, as the tracery of an Arabian arch, made of deal an inch thick, cut out with a steam saw and stained or enamelled black, would be effective when lined with rose colour, or any drapery suited to your room; and you might furnish an appropriate design for the fretwork. This would be easily dusted, and is not expensive. White blinds are clean and pleasant for bed-rooms, but dark-green ones are better for persons with weak sight; either these or Venetian blinds are very useful where there are no shutters. Brass and iron bedsteads have almost entirely superseded wooden ones, and they are generally made without fittings for curtains. Indeed, in our well-built modern houses there are so few draughts to be guarded against that curtains are seldom necessary. In bed-rooms of the present time valances to the beds are quite superfluous, as the bed-round is completely out of fashion. This was the name of the breadth of carpet which went round three sides of the bed, leaving the remainder of the floor bare. The fashion was healthy and economical, certainly, but it was tryingly ugly and cheerless. For a bed-room, nothing is so good as the square carpet, with a broad margin of the floor stained and varnished, as this is very easily taken up for the floor and carpet to be cleaned. The carpet must be laid down the first time by a man from the carpet-warehouse, so that it may be evenly stretched, which is seldom done by a carpenter; but after that it is easily spread, as it remains in shape, and needs very few nails to keep it in position. Bed-room carpets need not have brown paper laid under them, though this is an advantage in other rooms, as it keeps dust and draught from coming through the cracks of the floor, besides saving the carpet from being cut by the edges of the boards. Kidderminster carpets are now made in very nice patterns, and are quite suitable for bed-rooms where Brussels carpets may be thought too expensive. A hearth-rug is more useful in a bed-room than elsewhere, as a bed-room fire should be of coal or wood, and not of gas, as this is injurious in a bed-room. Take care never to let the head of the bed be placed before the fire-place. This is sometimes foolishly done, and unsuspecting sleepers get neuralgia from it. In summer a pretty pattern, cut out in tissue-paper so as to resemble lace, tacked on a slight frame covered with black tarletane, and fitted into the fire-place, allows ventilation and keeps out the dust from the chimney. Little girls love to cut these fire-papers, and one of them, with care, lasts two summers, and often three. When there are no bed-curtains, it is sometimes advisable to line the ironwork at the head of the bed, so that the sleeper may not be exposed to draught. Spring mattresses, with soft woollen mattresses upon them, are the most comfortable beds of any; and Heal's folding spring mattresses, though expensive, cannot be too strongly recommended. These spring beds are so easily made up, that this is a matter of very trifling consideration in any house where there are two pairs of hands, children's or grown-up people's. It is necessary to turn back the bed-clothes completely over the foot of the bed, and leave it to air for an hour, at least, after the window has been opened. There is a great fancy now for having trimmed pillow-covers, and pieces of ornamental needlework to spread over the bed after it is turned down; the fashion is pretty, but superfluous, as a nicely worked counterpane looks equally well, and need not be folded up at bedtime. Towels may, and should be, ornamented, but not so much as to make them inconvenient for use. The collection of linen exhibited by the Duchess of Edinburgh gave many of us an interesting lesson in things of this kind. One of the silliest pieces of finery seen in a bed or dressing room is the trimmed towel-horse cover. Towels cannot possibly dry if the evaporation is stopped, and even when the cover is made of thin muslin, it is only a troublesome frivolity. Every lady has her own particular taste about her toilet-table, so that I only give a caution to let it be safe, and not liable to take fire. We frequently want candles on our dressing-tables; therefore it stands to reason that the veil often placed over the looking-glass is highly dangerous. This drapery is intended to keep the sun from scorching the back of the glass, but it is safer to stand the glass elsewhere than in the window when the room is exposed to the midday sun, although it will not be so pleasant for use. The rose-lined white muslin petticoat which was once such a popular way of concealing a deal dressing-table is highly dangerous. Indeed, it is difficult to conceive any combination more inflammable than the veiled glass set in the midst of cotton window-curtains, and two candles standing on a cotton toilet-cover, with a frilled muslin pincushion between them, and full muslin drapery below. The most convenient table allows the large square-seated stool, so comfortable to sit on while dressing the hair, to be pushed under it when not in use. When light ornaments are placed on a bed-room mantelpiece and exposed to a current of air, it is advisable to have two upright pieces of board, painted, cut out, or otherwise made ornamental, placed one on each side of the shelf to protect the knick-knacks from being blown down; and if these are numerous, one or two shelves may be put above the mantelpiece, forming a pretty little museum of curiosities which may be too small, or too trifling, to be placed with advantage in the drawing-room; and houses of the class I am describing seldom have a boudoir. If the mantelpiece is covered with cloth or velvet, the shelves and back might be covered with the same, and this would be very becoming to the ornaments. Tunisian or point lace forms a very good edging to a mantelboard, and when a foot deep, or nearly so, it is extremely handsome. Water-colour sketches should abound in a bed-room, souvenirs of places we have visited, or of friends who have made the drawings, being doubly enjoyed when we are recovering from illness, or when we are awake early in the summer morning. Sketches are as pleasant as books, without the trouble of holding them up to our eyes. They should be carefully arranged so as not to look spotty; and they must be hung flat against the wall by having the rings placed high in the frames, as, although it is becoming to the pictures, the effect of them hanging much forward makes many people giddy, and in an invalid will sometimes produce a feeling akin to sea-sickness. Neatly made frames of the cheap German gilding (which will wash) answer very well for sketches hung in the less prominent situations in a bedroom, and bring a luxury within the reach of many who would not otherwise afford it. Now I am come to the difficult part of my subject--the tug of war, in fact--for I want men to do something for themselves, and women to do without something dear to their hearts. I think I will speak of the latter clause first. In bed-rooms especially is seen that truly English love of superfluous comforts which we mistake for civilization: it meets us everywhere, in and out of the house, but it abounds in our bed and dressing rooms. The amount of toilet so-called necessaries is incredible, and the number of patent objects overwhelming. When we consider that seven things only are necessary to our personal neatness and cleanliness--soap, sponge, towel, and tooth-brush for washing, and brush and comb and nail-scissors for the rest of the toilet--and then count the other paraphernalia seen in our dressing-rooms, we shall discover how many frivolous trades our superfluities maintain, to say nothing of ingenuity misplaced in making advertisements of dressing-cases and hair-restorers conspicuously attractive. The toilet-table is not alone to blame: the fault pervades the whole house and overwhelms the bed-rooms. M. Taine, in his "Notes on England," amusingly describing an English house, says, "In my bedroom is a table of rosewood, standing on an oilcloth mat on the carpet; upon this table is a slab of marble, on the marble a round straw mat--all this to bear an ornamented water-bottle covered with a tumbler. One does not simply place one's book on a table: upon the table is a small stand for holding it. One does not have a plain candlestick: the candle is enclosed in a glass cylinder, and is furnished with a self-acting extinguisher. All this apparatus hampers; it involves too much trouble for the sake of comfort." This was only a bachelor's room; what would the French critic have thought of the aids to reading in bed in an ordinarily well-appointed bed-room where the master indulges in that practice? By the Englishman's bedside is also a small table standing on a mat, and on this table another mat supporting a patent stand which screws up and down, and on this another mat with a candlestick with a nozzle and a patent protector of the candle from the draught, a glass shield set in an ormolu frame which has an elaborate screw; and by the side of the candlestick-stand another mat, on which is a patent screw for shading the light from the aforesaid candle. Then, besides the extinguisher, also on a stand and a mat, and patent matches in a patent box, he is supplied with a book-rest which will turn in every possible way, with a patent leaf-turner and leaf-holder, and a variety of other little conveniences. He only lacks an electric communication between the fire-escape outside and the patent night-bolt on his door, to prevent him being burnt in his bed, to make the thing complete. We feel how difficult we have made life by having to put all these indispensables to their intended use. We have multiplied these patent gimcracks until we cannot move without being crushed by our comforts; and the keeping of all this in order obliges us to have under us a parlour-maid, an upper housemaid, and an under housemaid, to wait upon these inventions. Helps, in one of his essays, says, "I have always maintained that half the work of the world is useless, if subjected to severe scrutiny. My idea of organization would be to diminish much of this useless work." The same remark applies to our luggage when we travel. We take things fancying. We may want them, forgetting that it is easier to do without an article once, than to have the trouble of packing it and looking after it every day; so we bury our pleasure under a heap of care. I must give another extract from Taine's description of his bed-room before I proceed to my second great battle-field, where I fear a harder contest. After describing his dressing-table, Taine goes on to say of his washstand: "It is furnished with one large jug, one small one, a medium one for hot water, two porcelain basins, a dish for toothbrushes, two soap-dishes, a water-bottle with its tumbler, a finger-glass with its glass. Underneath is a very low table, a sponge, another basin, a large shallow zinc bath for morning bathing. In a cupboard is a towel-horse with four towels of different kinds, one of them thick and rough. Napkins are under all the vessels and utensils; to provide for such a service, when the house is occupied, it is necessary that washing should be always going on. The servant comes four times a day into the rooms: in the morning to draw the blinds and the curtains, open the inner blinds, carry off the boots and clothes, and bring a large can of hot water with a fluffy towel on which to place the feet; at midday and at seven in the evening to bring water and the rest, in order that the visitor may wash before luncheon and dinner; at night to shut the window, arrange the bed, get the bath ready, renew the linen;--all this with silence, gravity, and respect. Pardon these trifling details, but they must be handled in order to figure to one's self the wants of an Englishman in the direction of his luxury: what he expends in being waited upon and comfort is enormous, and one may laughingly say that he spends the fifth of his life in his tub." Men will do much for glory and for vainglory, even to using cold shower-baths in winter, and boast of breaking the ice in them; but I never yet heard of a man who would take the trouble to empty his bath after using it. Now I maintain that every man who has not a valet ought to do this. Few men consider the hard work it is to a woman to carry upstairs heavy cans of water; but that is trifling, compared with the difficulty to a woman of turning the water out of a large flat bath into a pail. A man would find little difficulty in doing this; his arms are longer, his back stronger, and his dress does not come in the way. When a man likes to have his bath regularly--and who does not?--he should think of the labour that half a dozen or more baths entail, and in the evening prepare his can of water for to-morrow's use, place his own bath on his piece of oil-cloth, enjoy his tub to his heart's content, pour away the water, put up his tub, and say nothing about it. This disagreeable lecture over, we will go on and see how easy the general dressing-room arrangements might be made. If, instead of our ordinary washstands with their jugs and basins, we had fixed basins with plugs in them and taps above, much of the water-bearing difficulty would be obviated. These washstands should be placed back to back, as it were, in every two rooms, having only the partition-wall between them, so that the same pipe would supply two taps. I have three sorts of basins in use in my house: one kind has the ordinary tap and plug, another kind has handles for supply and waste, the water being sucked away on turning the waste handle. This is safe for careless people who let rings or any other articles drop in the basin, and nothing but water can go down to choke the pipe. But the basin I find easiest and most pleasant to use, tilts out the water by lifting a handle, or rather finger-niche, in front of the basin; and when this is let fall it strikes on an india-rubber pad beneath the tap, so that the basin cannot be cracked. All these different basins are fitted into marble washstands with dishes for soap and tooth-brushes hollowed in the marble, with holes for drainage connected with the waste-pipe below. These conveniences, with a housemaid's-closet with sink and tap on the same floor, save all carrying up and down of pails and cans of water, and, in fact, the heaviest part of a housemaid's work. Where the hall is warmed by hot-water pipes, water from the same source will supply the bedrooms. It will be warm if the first quart is allowed to flow away. Or the pipes may be connected with the kitchen boiler, which, in the case of our kitchen on the ground floor, will not be so expensive as where the pipes have to communicate with the basement. Supplying the taps is perfectly easy when only cold water is required, and children and delicate persons may be indulged with jugs of warm water, which, however, every boy using should fetch for himself. We should thus be able to dispense with ewers and toilet-cans, which would at once pay for the fitting of the pipe and tap to each room. It is better and nicer to use filtered water for the toilet-decanter, and not water drawn directly from the cistern, unless it has been tested and found pure. In such a case, which is rare, no decanter will be needed, unless we like to have a Venetian glass one for the sake of its beauty. Let all persons, in dressing, replace the things they have used, and spread their towels on the horse to dry; then the rooms will be set in order for the day, only needing the daily dusting, which will be done after the beds are made. Boys and girls who go to school should make their beds before they go, so they must open them to air immediately they get up. "These seem little things: and so they are unless you neglect them" (_Sir A. Helps_). Everybody should have his or her own wardrobe, and keep it in order. Men and boys and little children will have everything neatly made and mended for them, and laid in its proper place; so all they have to do is to leave the drawers as tidy as they found them, taking heed not to lose their gloves and neckties; the larger things take care of themselves. The secret of keeping one's clothes tidy is not to have too many. Of course, where there are no servants to provide for, the house has fewer rooms than a family of the same size requires in our present experience, and the uglier part of the house is abolished, or where not abolished, is converted from servants' bed-rooms and attics--unpleasant, dusty, and ill furnished; redolent of tallow candle, shoes, brushes, and stale perfumery; with closed windows and the floor strewn with old letters, hair-pins, half-empty matchboxes, and dogs-eared penny novels--into a bower-like study or morning-room, where a young lady may entertain herself and her own especial visitors. I have even known an attic in Baker Street so converted by the invention and taste of a young lady, as to live in one's recollection as as pretty a summer room as any country rectory could boast, by being papered with bright flowery paper all over its sloping roof, and its window made cheerful with climbing plants and flowers; tasteful draperies, a work-table and work-basket in embroidered green satin, book-shelves carved by friends, a piano just good enough for practising upon, and water-colour drawings on the walls. I have known another room, cheaply fitted up in a French style by a French lady, as a dressing-room, with looking-glass wardrobe and painted furniture. A small bed in an alcove, in case the room might be wanted as a spare room, and lace curtains drawn over the alcove. The head of the bed and all its plain wood-work covered in quilted white cotton in large diamonds, and cross-barred with narrow blue satin ribbon, and large blue bows here and there. The walls papered with a paper resembling quilted muslin. The effect was soft, clean, and extremely pretty. A few words on the topic of sick-rooms before quitting this part of the subject. In cases of severe illness it is advisable to engage a professed nurse. She is a great help to the physician, and a support to the family, who too often, in their love for the sufferer, overtax their strength, and break down at the moment this is most required. No person can long sustain night and day nursing, particularly if to bodily fatigue anxiety and distress of mind be added; nor can they keep up that appearance of cheerfulness which is such a support to a sick person. It is a great mistake to attempt to do this in any case, but more especially if it is likely to be a prolonged illness. A sister of mercy is often found a most valuable member of the household under such circumstances. People often talk of not having had their clothes off for a fortnight. One's first thought on hearing this said is, how glad you will be to take a bath! And one's second thought, what good did it do the patient? The sick-room should be kept as much as possible in its usual order. The paraphernalia of illness distresses the sick person, causing nervousness. Do not let physic bottles be visible in all directions, or the patient will never feel well, and those in attendance will fancy they have caught the infection, simply because they are nauseated with the smell of the medicines, and the disagreeable sight of their dregs left about in spoons and glasses. The medicines that have to be given at stated hours should be neatly placed in readiness on a small tray, near the clock if possible, so that they may be remembered and the hours observed. Keep perfect cleanliness and neatness in the room, and avoid clatter. Wear thin shoes, and do not let your dress rustle. A woman's hand should at every touch improve or replace something, so that there may never be a great bustle of setting to rights. We have already spoken at length of ventilation: in sickness it must be particularly attended to, as fresh air is the most beneficial of all medicines. At the time of the great cattle-plague, fumigation with chlorine gas was advocated, and beneficially employed, by Professor Stone, of Owen's College, Manchester. It is simple for domestic use. One teaspoonful of powdered chlorate of potash should be loosely stirred together with three table-spoonfuls of dry sand in an empty dry pickle bottle; add to this nearly an ounce of muriatic acid; stand the bottle on some warm embers in an old Australian-meat tin, or other receptacle of this kind, and place it (with the embers in it) on a shelf, or somewhere high up in the room, taking care not to scorch the wood-work. The heavy chlorine gas will descend and so fill all parts of the room, and in about three hours disinfection will be complete. It would be a good thing if district-visitors, and other charitable persons, would instruct the clergy and their poor people in such effectual means of stamping out infection. In all hospitals "Condy's solution" is placed with the water and towels for the use of the visiting medical men. It is highly advisable to keep this in every house for cleansing and disinfecting purposes, and for the removal of unpleasant smells. It is useful in cleansing bird-cages and gun-barrels, in preparing poultry or game, and in many other ways. The solution may be made at home. The British Pharmacopoeia allows four grains of the permanganate of potash (the basis of the solution) to the fluid ounce. It is chiefly for external use. The permanganate of potash is sold in crystals of two kinds: the most expensive is the purple, which is used in what is called the ozonized water, a very weak solution of permanganate, sold by chemists for toilet use. The cheaper and more general disinfectant is a greenish coarse powder, sold by any honest chemist at under five shillings a pound. It may be bought of the General Apothecaries' Company, 49, Berner's Street, London, for from three shillings a pound to three-and-sixpence, as it varies with the market; and this does as well as Condy's patent, and is 500 per cent. cheaper, as fourteen gallons of disinfectant may be prepared from a pound of the powdered crystals, and these again will be extensively diluted for use. The purple crystals may be bought by the ounce. Be cautious in using this fluid, or the Condy, whichever you may happen to prefer, as it turns almost everything brown that it touches. Very deep stains will never come out; slight stains wash and wear out after a time, but china and all white ware, and sponges and brushes, have their appearance greatly injured by it. Bed-room floors may be washed with it; they will be thoroughly purified, and the colour will be as if they were stained dark oak previous to being varnished. Stains will wear off the hands in a few days, and a weak solution will not discolour them. The purple fluid is a test of water--if it turns brown the water is impure. It decolorizes on contact with animal matter. It is a useful plan to keep a filter on every floor of a house; the expense is not very great, while the increased safety is incalculable. Spencer's patent, or magnetic-carbide, filter is one of the best. He imitated nature's process when constructing it, having observed that the purest water filtered through oxide of iron in the earth's strata. Two articles of furniture will be found of great use in a sick-room. One is a chair back with bars of broad webbing, made to lift up and down like the music-desk of a grand piano. This is a most comfortable support to an invalid when sitting up to take food or medicine. When closed flat it will slip easily under the pillow, and it can be raised gently and gradually to the angle required. The other thing is an arm-chair, stood and fastened on a board with four French castors. This is a great assistance in cases of lameness or extreme weakness, as it is easy for the invalid to sit on it and be wheeled to any part of the room; and it costs less than a wheeled chair. None of the learned professions have advanced during the last thirty years so much as the medical. Medicine has become a new science since it has taken hold of the sanitary improvement of our towns and dwellings. The profession, with a disinterestedness and devotion to science worthy of liberal minds, combines to make the prevention of disease its aim, even beyond its cure. It forms a noble co-operative society. At the last meeting of the British Medical Association at Sheffield, it was most truly said that independent medical officers of health would before long change the character of disease throughout the nation, and save future generations much misery. It is to be hoped that the country, which will reap the benefit of their endeavours, will strengthen the hands of those whose efforts are directed to raising the standard of national health. THE EDUCATION OF GIRLS. To what age should boys' and girls' education be alike?--Accomplishments fruitlessly taught--Nursery and School-room government--Helplessness --Introduction to society--The convent system--Unhappy results--Scientific education--Geometrical illustration--Religion--Professional life for women--Home training--Varied knowledge--Companionship of a mother-- Experience--Kindness--Truth. At what age should the training of boys and girls begin to differ? This is a doubtful point, though we may consider that as, until about the age of fourteen, their nature has been much the same, their strength of mind and body nearly equal, and their tastes and dispositions much alike, this may be the time when their training should begin to follow each its own path; as the boy's strength grows from this time beyond that of the girl, while she becomes more remarkable for the increasing delicacy of her skill. Practically there is a divergence when their clothing begins to differ, but this is merely artificial. The girl is made to wear finer and more delicate clothing than the boy; its texture and form impede her movements, and it is more easily injured by the weather. But where a girl is sensibly dressed, so that her clothes will not spoil with the rain, nor prevent her moving her limbs freely, this diversity between the two disappears. But although it will not harm a girl to share her brother's pursuits till the age of fourteen, the conditions of her so doing will depend upon circumstances. Except in the case of twins, the boy will be rather older or younger than the girl, if even she have brothers about her own age at all, and many accidents will be found to control her education. Besides these, nature works gradually, and there are seldom abrupt transitions in her processes. The girl's future skill of hand and the boy's strength of arm will be prepared for, and seen, in their differences of taste and choice of pursuits and games; the girl will prefer working for her doll and protecting it from the boy's rough handling, and the boy will love his bat and knife. He will show his instinct for construction, and she hers for preservation, after the first early stage when both alike delight in destruction. Here education comes into use, leading each child to exercise the good instinct instead of its converse. When the conventional proprieties are not allowed to warp the natural taste, a girl loves running and climbing as well as the boy does: she likes to collect stamps, minerals, fossils, birds' eggs, insects, etc., fully as much as he does. Their favourite books are identical, their scrap-books equally enjoyed, the theatre and theatricals at home delighted in by both, and their pets are much beloved. Why, then, should we make so much difference between them where Nature has created none? Girls of the upper classes are always at lessons of some kind from six years old to eighteen; thus they have twelve years of instruction, and we know that of old a seven year's apprenticeship was held sufficient to make a master in some craft. What do the twelve years do for our girls? Does their training enable them to maintain them decently in any one line? What have they learnt, and what can they do? They have learnt music enough to play a _morceau de salon_ showily, and the allegretto movement of a sonata stumblingly, and the latter only because it was thought 'proper' that they should learn 'classical music.' But they do not know enough even to learn another _morceau de salon_ without the help of a master, so of course music cannot be reckoned upon as doing much for them. I place music first, because the most time has been given to it; a weary hour every day, had it not been so broken up by visits to the clock. Practical girls grudge this hour wasted on a weakness they are sure to give up when they marry, for they all think they are as certain to marry as to give up their music. They are healthy and strong and have good voices, but few of them can do more than incomprehensibly murmur a few lines of twaddle to a feeble accompaniment, or sing out of all time the top line of a glee, provided the piano helps them out with the notes. So here is a physical gift thrown aside. Can anything be made of that pencil-stroking on buff paper, with some splashes of white, which is held to represent a cottage, flanked on one side by a gate-post which could never have been a good gate-post, and on the other side by something smeary which is not at all like a tree, nor any other created thing? Every willow-pattern plate has a better landscape on it than that. So there are two hours a week gone, for the lop-sided chalk head is of no more use to anybody than was the landscape. The girl has been taught French and German, but has not learnt enough of either language to enjoy a good book, or to converse with intelligence in either tongue, and her stock of dialogue-book phrases is soon exhausted. Indeed, she can hardly talk better in English when she gets beyond the depth of drawing-room chatter, as her knowledge of facts is of a most uncertain sort; so in general conversation she covers her deficiencies by slang, which, although it distresses us, we forgive in a pretty, lively girl. She cannot cook, how should she? She was never permitted to peep inside the kitchen, but was kept in an upstairs nursery until she was six years old, under the stultifying dominion of "nurse," whose sole training was "Miss, I'll tell your ma," when wicked or cruel teaching did not replace this feebleness. When she was promoted to the school-room and made over to the care of the governess, the system of instruction was little more satisfactory. The list of the Kings of England superseded standing in the corner as a punishment for weariness, but her chief experience of life was gathered from tales in cheap magazines, read surreptitiously; and as she grew older, the railway novel by a sensational author replaced the serial in the penny paper. The child saw her parents together for a quarter of an hour in the evening, when she was full dressed to go down to dessert, and her mother for about five minutes in the course of the morning, when she came up to the school-room to find fault with the governess for the children's bad grammar, or awkward behaviour, on the previous evening. The round of the year brings the sea-side visit. Here, although health is gained, there is no education beyond lodging-house gossip. The children are put into the train like so many parcels, and in so many hours are somewhere else; frocks suited to the sea-side are put on them by the nurse, but these might have dropped from the clouds, and the children have been none the wiser. Helplessness is the natural outcome of all this. The school-room course begins in about six years to be agreeably diversified by the visits of music and drawing-masters; which, if the governess did not sit in the room all the time, trying to attract their admiration, would be a really pleasant change. But nothing comes of the lessons beyond the showy _morceau de salon_ aforesaid, the buff-paper drawing, and the weak rhyme jingled to an accompaniment in quavers; except an increase of energy in borrowing, or hiring, yellow-covered books revealing stirring impossibilities in the lives of Edwin and Angelina, over which a girl, according to her disposition, may weep or rage. For this is the only outlet for her poor imprisoned life, until, on her introduction to society, she is suddenly flung upon the world, to make her way as best, or worst, she can; and now, and now only, does her real education begin. This manner of bringing up our girls differs from the convent system in this, that it is worldly instead of being religious, and needlework and confectionery are worse taught; other things are about equal. Both we and our continental neighbours imprison our girls in a school-room or convent for twelve years, and yet boast of our superiority over the Turks! After this, can we wonder at the weakness or the folly of girls, or be surprised that society is at a dead-lock, or that our women eat bitter bread? Can we marvel that women ruin their husbands by their dress and extravagance; that they drive them to their clubs for companionship, and freedom from the wretchedness of home; that they tyrannize over their milliners, and are in their turn tyrannized over by their servants; that their sons drink the brandy and smoke the tobacco of idleness, and that their daughters grow up the patterns of themselves? Only where the mother is passively useless, the daughter will be actively mischievous; where the mother was merely frivolous, the daughter will be actually wicked. Does all our boasted culture come to this; or will Cambridge examinations and a scientific education set all right again? When an hour a day, at least, for twelve years passed in the study of music has failed to implant those habits of accuracy which this beautiful science so pre-eminently combines with sweetness and grace, is a smattering of geology certain to succeed? Will Greek strengthen the character more than German? Or is one as likely as the other to puff the mind with conceit, where it does not equally encourage a deceitful appearance of knowledge. And is the new system better calculated than the old one to prepare girls for fifty years of womanhood? People talk of depth, as if truth were only to be found at the bottom of a well. What seems most wanted is breadth, free expansion all round to keep the soul healthy. Let every branch have due encouragement to stretch out towards the light, to receive the shower or sunshine as they come. Some careful mothers say, "I keep my girls exclusively at 'studies' for the piano; they make such a good groundwork." This may be so, but finger training is not everything. The poor girls have had their souls so sickened over melancholy minor "meditations," that their hearts are closed to the tender or joyous melodies of music, and its rich, majestic harmonies. Point out these things to the young, who will love them, at first blindly, and afterwards with a gradually developing appreciation. Here a little, there a little, is a true precept in education. A thing can never be completely taught, for there is infinity everywhere. How rarely we can begin at the beginning, or even the unit, of anything; multiplication and subdivision meet us at both ends, besides all the collaterals. I have ever observed that those girls who have been the greatest number of years at the same school know the least, and are the most stupid. It is better to let children go to many different schools in succession, than to remain long in one: they gain more experience, while the chances of their learning evil are the same in both cases. In public schools as boys go up through the forms, they meet different sets of masters and subjects of study, so that these are, in fact, fresh schools. To use a simile which will be intelligible to this generation, women have been treated as if they were stones. Left shapeless under the school-room prison system, they are only fit to be broken up for the roads, as they will fit in nowhere. Our well-educated ancestresses, down to the time of Hannah More, were formed into cubes, very solid and steady on either of their bases, and suitable for many buildings, though the finer kinds of stone are in this manner misapplied. Modern science gives the stones more sides, and, while seeming to round them into more adaptable forms, only produces a number of small facets, making a somewhat polished dodecahedron, which rolls about in any position and is of no particular service, except, maybe, to stick upon a gate-post at a girl's school, though it has given a great deal of trouble in the cutting. But the hourly guidance of the loving hands of father and mother, aided by raspings and filings of circumstances, and many blows from chisels more or less severe, produces at last a beautiful statue, well shaped in all its parts, which becomes a perfect and nobly planned Galatea. What is the best training for girls? That is the question. What are they to be, or not to be? We have tried hitherto to bring up our girls so that they may be fitted for the high position here that we all wish they may attain, making their education tend solely to pleasure; forgetting how easily the nature of woman adapts itself to any superior station, and how soon it seems like everyday life, however high the rank or great the wealth to which a girl may be suddenly raised. We teach religion, when it is taught at all, under the head of "divinity," at school, where it is put on a par with the multiplication-table; or as a series of "religious duties," to be performed once a week and rendered as irksome as possible, quite ignoring that everything we do is our duty towards God, or towards our neighbour, which is part of the same duty; whereas we ought to train our girls for "duties" here, and give them joy in preparing for their high position as daughters of God in heaven. We should let our divine life so permeate through every hour of our stay here, that it may be the vivifying light shed upon everything we are concerned with, making the trifles of this life unfold their beauties, comforting sadness and gilding poverty, as the southern sunshine lights up squalid dwellings till they shine like gold and silver, and makes rags glow with light and colour. Our ideas have changed lately, and now we seem to think that all girls who are not born to high position here must of necessity be trained to professional life. But, after all, the demand for certified teachers, heads of ladies' colleges, doctors, and other learned professions, will never comprise the great bulk of the number of willing workers among the unmarried women of England: nor do these things constitute a quarter of the work to be done. Instances of marked talent or decided turn for some particular line of study should be furthered and fostered to the utmost, consistently with the possibility that after all the vocation may not be carried into effect; but women are really more valuable, and more likely to be happy, in what it is old-fashioned to call the sphere of a home. And this is best prepared for by home training; which does not mean being pushed aside so as to be out of the way, and shut up in the nursery or school-room, but enjoying the companionship of a judicious and sensible mother, and the freedom of the house--where the child will be taught to behave herself properly, and be useful and obliging; where she will have regular hours of study with her mother, her governess, or at school, and yet have opportunities of seeing how everything is managed in the kitchen and throughout the house, being allowed occasionally to do some little thing herself, and so acquire some of the needful practice; where she can be taught needlework and the proper use of many tools; learn to carve, to cut bread and butter, to help dishes neatly at table, and gain a knowledge of gardening and green-house culture. Children should be permitted to look on at the proceedings of all workmen employed in or out of the house: the glazier, gasfitter, gardener, carpet-stretcher, carpenter, locksmith, and piano-tuner; the exceptions being the dustman and the sweep, because of the dirt. How much money might be saved in a house if people understood the use of a few tools, the construction of a few fittings, or could take a piano to pieces and tune it. If a bell-wire is broken, a man is sent for; he charges half a day's work and some materials, and generally makes a little bit of work for some other tradesman, whereas a knowledge of how to unscrew and take off the bell-cover would often enable a piece of copper wire to be joined, and the bell set in order. How often people fail to force down a window whose weights are just over-lapping, where a blow with a mallet on the shutterbox would have shaken them into their places; or, failing that, the box containing the sash-weights might be opened by taking off the beading near the window-sash, the cords and weights put straight, and the beading replaced by hammering the brads. But no; we send for a man. Our water-pipes burst in winter, because during a hard frost we have not taken the precaution to turn the taps so that a few drops may pass to relieve the pressure in thawing. We cannot even frame and hang up a picture when we have painted it, or cover a chair with the piece of needlework we have made. We do not know how to renew the cord of a spring blind, nor many a little thing besides; and yet any one who keeps a house in order knows how constantly these things are recurring, and what a source of expense they are. Girls should be taken out shopping that they may learn the names and qualities of things, the quantities of material required for different purposes, and the value of money. The knowledge of how much it costs to clothe a child will teach them more practical arithmetic than any amount of extraction of the square root, and give an interest to their tables of weights and measures besides. Let Euclid be learnt by all means, if desired; but if it is only done for the sake of training, and not to aid some particular purpose, as good, if not as exact, training may be found in some study leading to a pleasing result, such as music, drawing, or knowledge of architecture, as from the pure mathematics. Let the girls learn to fit their clothes exactly, estimate the needful quantity of material, and calculate the cost of the quality. When the mother is considering the size and price of a new carpet, if she consult with her daughters about it, it will help their judgment at the same time that it improves their arithmetic. Let girls learn to write notes of invitation and letters of business, and write orders to tradespeople; let them accompany their parents on house-hunting expeditions--it is a school in itself--or when furniture is bought. Elder girls may go with their mothers when they are treating for schools for little brothers, and when servants are hired, or evening parties catered for; when lodgings are taken for friends, and a thousand and one other circumstances. It is all experience, and of the kind those girls never gain who are always at school-work; so that those who have not this knowledge begin life many years behind the home-trained girls, and commit many follies owing to their want of it. It need not be feared that this experience will destroy a girl's charm of manner. Ignorance is not simplicity, nor silliness a grace, neither are awkwardness and affectation as dignified as self-possession. I would on no account depreciate the efforts made for the higher education of women. No one rejoices more than I do at seeing things more thoroughly taught. Still, we cannot rest content with crumbs of science; female education must be filled with the milk of human kindness. It is not the nature of woman to stand Alp-like alone, with one peak seeming to pierce the heavens; she should be like the spreading tree which gives shelter and enjoyment to all within its influence, its roots being firmly fixed in the good ground. The nursery training for children is merely repressive. They are told not to be naughty, not to be greedy, not to break their toys, not to be noisy. Whereas a teaching more calculated to develop their intelligence would substitute some interesting occupation to counteract their naughtiness; such as mending a toy they have broken, which would delight them more than any new toy; and having seen the trouble it took to mend it, and the time it took to dry it, they would learn carefulness. If they wish to shout at inconvenient times and places, teach them to sing a chorus, and if the noise is too great, let them sing one at a time. If they are greedy, which often means hungry, for children need frequent feeding, give them a piece of bread. But although tender kindness is the best of nurture, on no account let it degenerate into weak indulgence. Compel instant obedience to the slightest word, the minutest direction, enforcing habits of attention and discipline. Never let children be obtrusive or feel that they are a power in the house; and require of them the utmost respect to elders. The good example of parents is the safeguard of the children. If they show reverence to all that is lovely, children will do so too. Above all, parents should never break a promise, nor ever deceive their children, even in play, or children will not honour their word. I do not like to see mothers or nurses take away from a child something they do not wish it to have, and hide it, and pretend not to know where it is gone; yet this is a very favourite form of play, and deemed quite innocent. Surely it were better kindly, but firmly and openly, to remove the object and turn the attention from the loss. I hope these few remarks will be found useful. I have tried to keep them brief, but in writing on so important a topic as that of education, it is difficult to bear in mind the clever old French saying, "Woe to him who says all that can be said." SUNDAY. Children's Sundays made wearisome--Sunday precious to workers--Moral workers--Moral vices--Our gifts--Misuse of them--Necessary work on Sunday--Diminished by management--Sunday prevents us living too fast--The rest must be earned--Sunday repairs the human machine. Do not let Sunday be turned into a day of dread to the children. It is the day which the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. For years I lived in terror of the Sunday, and I feel for children who, being brought more into the presence of their elders on that day, are consequently more exposed to reproof for their natural animal spirits, which are trying to jaded and irritable persons. An only child, I was taken twice a day to a church built in the dismal style of the reign of George III., and put into a high pew, "shut up in a cupboard," as I have heard a little child express it, where I could only see a frightful ornament like a row of teeth in painted woodwork that ran round the upper part of the church. I sat contemplating this through the long low church service and sermon, of which I was too young to understand a word. The remainder of the day was filled up with collect, epistle, and catechism, Bible questions to write and answer, the text to remember, hymns to repeat to visitors, and a prolonged dessert, with half a glass of sherry, which was like a dose of physic to me. The "Life of Joseph" was my only recreation. Too often is Sunday given up to the display of toilet vanities out of doors and listlessness at home. Those who have been really working during the week know well what a blessing the Sunday rest is. Those who have been idle cannot expect to feel this, and they experience such a flatness in the quietly kept Sunday that they regard it as a weekly penance which interrupts their pleasures. But they ought not to have allowed themselves to get into this condition of feeling. There is work for all in the world; none but the dead have a right to be idle. As Kingsley justly asks: "If vanity, profligacy, pride, and idleness be not moral vices, what are?" What is more common than to find pride and vanity leading our women to idleness, and that extravagance and craving after gaiety which are the feminine form of profligacy? And Kingsley goes on to show that beneath these vices, and perhaps the cause of them all, lies another and deeper vice--godlessness, atheism. "I do not," continues he, "mean merely the want of religion, doctrinal unbelief. I mean want of belief in duty, in responsibility. Want of belief that there is a living God governing the universe, who has set us our work, and will judge us according to our work." Why are our noble gifts given to us; such gifts as these-- "The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill." Is it that we may become "tolerably harmless dolls?" How shall we answer for having used our endurance only so much as may make us wait with common patience for next month's number of _Belgravia_; our foresight in choosing a pattern for a mantle which shall be fashionable enough to be worn next autumn; our skill in crochet-work, and our strength in skating on the outside edge. No wonder we do not value the Sunday rest. We know that heavenly mansions are being prepared for us to enjoy the heavenly rest in, and that we must prepare ourselves for these mansions, or we shall not be permitted to enter them. Then let us take pains to prepare our earthly houses for the right use of the day of rest, and be able to go up to the house of the Lord with the multitude that keep holy-day. We should so put our houses in order on Saturday that we may really be able to rest on Sunday. Some works of necessity must be done, such as the dinner prepared; but by dining early, and doing as much as possible on the previous day towards its preparation, the labour may be reduced to a minimum. There will be no needlework, no cleaning or dusting, no marketing to be done on Sunday. Pies and tarts should have been made on Saturday, a double quantity of potatoes and other vegetables prepared, and a general foresight used. Sunday is a good day for sending out a large joint to be baked, and a pudding also; indeed, this seems the opportunity for the national roast beef and plumpudding dinner. So that, in fact, beyond laying the cloth and removing the things used at meals, there is absolutely no work to be done beyond the five minutes' daily occupation of each person in making his or her own bed, as the re-arrangement of the used dinner things may be left till the following morning. The table is cleared as if by magic, if every child is told to put in its place two things, or three things, according to the number of things used and the number of children to put them back. Each person replaces his or her own chair, and the Sunday work is over. Life is not so hard to us as it was to the country squire's wife half a century ago, who always gave her servants physic on a Sunday because it was no loss of time. To us the Sunday is very helpful in another way: it keeps us from living too fast; without this wholesome stop we might drive ourselves on to frenzy. Many if not most of us feel lazy and desultory on Monday morning (which therefore had better be employed on some kind of desultory and irregular work), and we only get ourselves warm in the harness by the middle of the week. We go on working with gradually increasing excitement until Saturday night, when some sensible friend hints that it is too late to make a bad week's work good; precious Sunday comes to ease the strain, and the human machine is oiled and cooled. Let us be diligent during the week, and lengthen our days by beginning them earlier, so as to do most of our work in the morning; then with a clear conscience we may leave off our play as early as we please and go to rest: we shall enjoy the Sunday repose which we have earned, and find ourselves refreshed instead of wearied by it. I will conclude this essay in the words of Macaulay--words which he considers among the very best he ever wrote. "Man, man is the great instrument that produces wealth. The natural difference between Campania and Spitzbergen is trifling when compared with the difference between a country inhabited by men full of bodily and mental vigour, and a country inhabited by men sunk in bodily and mental decrepitude. Therefore it is that we are not poorer but richer, because we have, through many ages, rested from our labour one day in seven. That day is not lost. While industry is suspended, while the plough lies in the furrow, while the Exchange is silent, while no smoke ascends from the factory, a process is going on quite as important to the wealth of nations as any process which is performed on more busy days. Man, the machine of machines, the machine compared with which all the contrivances of the Watts and Arkwrights are worthless, is repairing and winding up, so that he returns to his labours on the Monday with clearer intellect, with livelier spirits, with renewed corporal vigour. Never will I believe that what makes a population stronger and healthier and wiser and better can ultimately make it poorer. "If ever we are forced to yield the foremost place among commercial nations, we shall yield it not to a race of degenerate dwarfs, but to some people pre-eminently vigorous in body and in mind." THE END. PRINTED AT THE CAXTON PRESS, BECCLES. 
35066	----	GUIDE TO HOTEL HOUSEKEEPING BY MARY E. PALMER 1908 Copyrighted 1908, BY MARY E. PALMER THE TRIBUNE PRINTING CO. Charleston. W. Va. [Illustration] CREDIT TO THE HOTEL WORLD. The greater part of the contents of this book was published, in instalments, in The Hotel World, of Chicago. A FOREWORD. My chief purpose in writing this book was to place a few guide-posts along the route of hotel housekeepers to warn them against certain errors common to women engaged in the arduous and difficult occupation of keeping house for hotels. If anything that I have set forth herein shall make the work of hotel housekeepers easier, more inviting, or more efficient, thereby contributing to the satisfaction of proprietors and to the comfort of patrons, I shall feel amply repaid for writing this book. MARY E. PALMER. Hotel Ruffner, Charleston, West Va. March 1, 1908. THE MANAGER AND THE HELP. The average hotel manager is only too prone to complain of the incompetency and the inefficiency of hotel "help." It is true that it is difficult to secure skilled help, for there is no sort of institution that trains men and women for the different kinds of hotel work. Each hotel must train its own help, or obtain them from other hotels. Thus there is no uniform and generally accepted standard of excellence in the different departments of hotel-keeping. A good word should be said in behalf of the Irish-American girls, who constitute a majority of the laundry help, waitresses, and chambermaids in American hotels to-day. With a high regard for honor and rectitude, handicapped by poverty, they find employment, at a very early age, in hotels, and perform menial duties in a manner that is greatly to their credit. The Irish-American girls are not shiftless, remaining in one place for years until they either marry or leave to fill better positions, which is the privilege of every one living under the "Stars and Stripes." Some improve their spare time in study, thereby fitting themselves to become stenographers and bookkeepers. Some adopt the stage as a profession, one instance being that of Clara Morris, who takes delight in telling of the days when she washed silver in a hotel. _An ex-Governor Peeled Potatoes._ Ex-Governor Hoard, of Wisconsin, boasts of the time when he peeled potatoes in a hotel. The success of hotel-keeping depends largely on the manager. He should possess patience, forbearance, and amiability. He should know that the best results are obtained from his help by kindness, and that good food and good beds mean better service. The manager should realize that the working force of a hotel is like the mechanism of a clock: it has to be wound occasionally and set going. No novice can operate this wonderful piece of mechanism; it requires a skilled mechanic. The proprietor of a hotel should be a good loser; for there are periods of the year when the employes outnumber the guests, and the balance-sheet shows a heavy loss. One of the most successful hotel men of the writer's acquaintance is Mr. Louis Reibold, formerly of the Bates House (now the Claypool), Indianapolis, Ind. Mr. Reibold's fame rests in his liberal, kindly treatment of his help. He never called them "help," but always referred to them as "employes." Reception, reading, and writing-rooms were furnished for their use, and he himself saw that good food was provided and that the tables were spread with clean, white table-cloths once a day. He remembered his employes at Christmas, each one receiving a gold coin, some as much as $20. When a girl in his employ lost her arm in a mangle, he presented her with a house and lot, provided her with ample means to furnish the house and to keep her the remainder of her lifetime. Mr. Reibold is a multi-millionaire, and he has the admiration and love of every woman and man that ever worked for him. FEEDING AND ROOMING THE HELP. Employes, such as housekeepers, clerks, cashiers, stenographers, stewards--though few stewards use the privilege--and bartenders, are permitted to take their meals in the main dining-room. Other office-employes take their meals in the officers' dining-room, from the same bill of fare used in the main dining-room. Chambermaids, bell-boys, and other "help," are served in the "helps' hall," from a separate bill of fare. Their food is good, as a rule; when it is not, the fault usually lies with the chef in the kitchen. All proprietors want their help to have good food. The housekeeper can do much to make the help comfortable. She can see that their rooms are kept clean and sweet, and free from vermin. She can give them soft pillows and plenty of warm covering. It is her duty to add to their comfort in every way she can. In a majority of hotels, the help are roomed and fed equally as well as are the patrons. REQUIREMENTS OF A HOUSEKEEPER. Every profession or trade is made up of two classes: the apprentice and the skilled workman. The young woman looking for a position as hotel housekeeper should not forget that careful training is fully as important and necessary in her chosen vocation as it is in medicine or cooking; that she must learn by slow and wearisome experience what it has taken years for the skilled housekeeper to acquire. The apprentice may stumble on the road to success and may even fall by the wayside. In order to succeed, she must give her time wholly to her occupation. She must be thankful for the successes that come to her and not fret over the failures, remembering that hotel housekeeping, like all other occupations, demands experience, patience, and perseverance, as well as skill, in its followers. The profession is overcrowded with novices to-day; they are the ones that have demoralized the profession--if the word, profession, may be applied to hotel housekeeping. The failure of many housekeepers is due to the lack of proper training; it is only the skilled housekeeper that wins lasting approval. A trained nurse must remain in a training school at least three years, possibly four, before she is given a certificate to care for the sick. The chef of the hotel kitchen, in all probability began his career as a scullion, serving at least ten years' apprenticeship in minor situations in the kitchen. The housekeeper must not be above gaining knowledge in the laundry and the linen-room. A woman that is ambitious to become a good housekeeper should first serve as a chambermaid. If she is wise, she will secure the good graces of the linen-woman by offering to help her mend the linen, hem the napkins, sort the linen, and mend the curtains. In this way, a clever chambermaid may learn many useful things that will help her to a better position. From the linen-room, it is only a step to the position of a housekeeper. When a housekeeper leaves on her vacation, or is called away to fill another place, or drops out on account of illness, the linen-woman may seize the opportunity of showing her executive ability. After she has worked faithfully in the linen-room for three years, there is not much danger that a linen-woman of ability will fail to find employment as a housekeeper. If she should have any trouble getting a situation, one way out of the difficulty is to offer her services one month on probation to a hotel man in need of a housekeeper; and, if she is granted a trial and mixes brains with her enthusiasm, she will receive a housekeeper's salary at the end of the month. Just what a housekeeper's work should be is a vital question. We hear of housekeepers meddling in the steward's department and with the affairs of the office. This is, at least, no less wrong than the idea that the housekeeper owes servile obedience to all other heads of departments. The essential requirements of a housekeeper are the same, whether she is in a hotel with the capacity of a thousand guests or in a hotel of two hundred rooms. The young housekeeper, looking for a position in a first-class hotel, should read the following requirements, which were submitted to the writer by the manager of a first-class Western hotel a few years ago: _A Housekeeper's Requirements._ Must be morally correct. Must have a dignified and respectable appearance. Must have executive ability. Must have a good disposition and try to get along with the help. Must be a good listener and not a talker. Must be quiet, giving orders in a firm but low tone. Must be loyal to the management. Must be courteous to guests. Must not worry the management with small matters. Must refrain from gossiping. Neatness in dress is essential to the success of a hotel housekeeper. She should take great pains to be always well groomed, and neat in her attire. If she finds herself growing coarse or commonplace-looking, her fingernails in mourning, and her hair unacquainted with soap and water, she should at once set about to remedy the defects. It is her duty, as well as her privilege, to dress as well as she can, not by donning all the colors of the rainbow or by useless extravagance, but by modest and harmonizing shades and by appropriate apparel. It behooves the woman to make herself as good-looking as possible, for good looks pay. Obliging manners are also a stock in trade. Grit, grace, and good looks can accomplish wonders, especially the good looks. Ignorance and ambition make an unprofitable combination. There are housekeepers filling positions to-day that have never been taught to do a single useful thing correctly; they can not darn the linens, they can not sew, they can not upholster a chair, they can not wait on the sick, nor can they settle the slightest dispute without sending for the manager. The housekeeper should know how these things are done, in order to impart her knowledge to others; for any housekeeper that has any respect for her calling considers herself an instructor. There is no special hour set for the housekeeper's appearance in the morning. It is safe to say that she will make a greater "impression" and last longer by rising at 6 o'clock. Late rising is one of the rocks on which many a housekeeper has been wrecked. _Cheerfulness and Good Manners._ Every housekeeper should make the "good morning" her bright keynote for the day. She should not say, "Hello, Mollie," to a girl named Mary. Though the girl may be only a scrub-girl, she knows a breach of etiquette; and a girl that bears the beautiful name of Mary does not want it changed to "Mollie." A cheerful "good morning" should be the beginning of each day, by the housekeeper. It makes everybody feel pleasant, and the maids can work faster and easier when their hearts are full of pleasantness. The successful housekeeper does not win her laurels by merely perfecting herself in her work, but also by careful study of the lives of others in her charge, and how to promote their happiness. Getting along with help requires tact, poise, and balance. The housekeeper should bestow praise where it is due. She may give a gentle pat on the back to some faithful employe, and yet keep her dignity. A hard task may be made lighter by it, and monotonous labor robbed of its weariness. The old and persistent notion that housekeepers are an irascible tribe--if it was ever true--is not true now. The question here arises--What qualities of mind and heart should a housekeeper possess to be successful? Nobody has discovered a rule--to say nothing of a principle--whereby a housekeeper's success may be determined. It is reasonable to claim that the permanent success of any housekeeper lies in her skill and in the confidence and esteem of her employer. She has learned that skill is acquired by serving an apprenticeship, and that esteem and confidence are won by character. Everybody who touches a sterling character comes at last to feel it, and the true hotel man has come to know that the housekeeper of skill and character is his friend. After the relation of friendship has been established between the manager and the housekeeper, a "go-between" has no place; to speak plainly, there is no legitimate function for a tattler. The young housekeeper should not become discouraged, excited, or worried, but learn to "manage." She should sit down quietly and think it over. She should have a system about her most ordinary duties, and never put off till to-morrow what may be done to-day. Tomorrow may never come, and, if it does come, it will bring other duties equally as important. Every field of labor has its drawbacks. The greater the work, the greater the hindrances and the obstacles seem to be. THE HOUSEKEEPER AND THE "HELP." It is a truism that there should be no hostilities between the heads of the different departments of a hotel. Everything works more smoothly and satisfactorily when pleasant relationships exist between the different departments of any business. A housekeeper feels stronger if she thinks that she is of sufficient importance to her employer to have her views receive some consideration. She takes up her daily tasks with an added sense of responsibility, and with a desire to do still better work. No housekeeper is perfect. It cannot be wisely assumed that any housekeeper will possess all the requisite qualifications for successful housekeeping, nor can she develop them all, no matter how ambitious, industrious, and naturally fitted for the work she may be. But "Knowledge is power," and she that has the most of it, coupled with the greatest ability to utilize it, enjoys advantages that will contribute largely to her success. _Keeping a Position._ A housekeeper studies not only to secure a good situation, but also to avoid losing it. "Good enough" is not her motto; "the very best" are her constant watchwords. Some one has said: "A housekeeper is born, not made." The "born housekeeper" is a spasmodic housekeeper. As a rule, she is not evenly balanced. A housekeeper with plain common sense, susceptible to instructions, willing to obey orders, is the housekeeper that leaves the old situation for one of better pay. There must be, of course, a foundation on which to build. The stones of that foundation should be self-control, self-confidence, education, neatness in dress, and cleanliness. None of these is a gift, but an accomplishment that can be developed more or less according to the individual. Good manners are very essential. Politeness alone will not bring about the desired results in any profession, but it has never been known to be a hindrance. Manners that will be accepted without criticism in one woman, will be odious and objectionable in another. Too much familiarity breeds contempt. An employer would better be approached with dignity and reserve. _The Charm of Neatness._ Few housekeepers realize the charm of the neatly dressed woman. The hair should always be neatly arranged and not look as if it was about to fall on her shoulders. The binding of her skirt should not show ragged in places. These are little things, but they weigh heavily in the general results. The well-groomed woman knows that the neglect of these things is full of shame to womankind. In regard to "bumping up against" the bell-boys, clerks, stewards, and stenographers, the wise housekeeper is shrewd enough to "stand in." She "turns the other cheek," which may sometimes be a difficult task to perform. Remember that no one on earth can ever succeed in life and hold a "grudge." The inability to forgive his enemies lost James G. Blaine the White House. If a bell-boy is caught doing something detrimental to the success of the management, the housekeeper should write a note to the clerk, or the captain of the watch, and inform him of the bell-boy's misdeeds. This will be sufficient from the housekeeper. On assuming the duties of a new field, the housekeeper may remember merely a few important duties; for instance, she must carefully scrutinize the time-book and learn all the maids' names and stations. Next learn the location of rooms and become familiarized with every piece of furniture in them. Then, step by step, she should build up the general cleanliness of the house. This is by far the most important of all the requisites pertaining to hotel housekeeping. Guarding against difficulties encountered with the employes and with the managers' wives is secondary. A housekeeper that can not take orders is not fit to give them; if the manager asks for the removal of an offensive employe, the housekeeper should immediately get rid of the objectionable person. If the housekeeper fails in deference to the manager's wishes, is not that good evidence that she is not a good soldier? She should be eager to maintain the dignity of her position--must maintain it in fact--and do as high service as possible for the management. Yet she can not always carry out her own ideas. The manager has his ideas about matters, which right or wrong, must be respected. The housekeeper carries out the manager's orders. If the hotel fails to bring a profit or give satisfaction, the manager alone is held accountable. _About Hiring Help._ To dismiss a maid is a very easy matter; to obtain a substitute that will perform the duties assigned her in a manner that will prove more effectual, is not so easy. To fire or not to fire, that is the question Whether 'tis easier on the impulse of the moment To suffer the terrors and exactions of the haughty maids, Or take up arms against their impudence And with pen and ink end them. To lie, to sleep-- Worry no more, and by good management to dispatch The cares and thousand little details Housekeepers are heir to--'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. The employment-agency is the housekeeper's recruiting station. She gets most of her help from this place. The housekeeper should always consult the manager when other help is to be hired. Everyone knows that old employes are always best, even if they do spoil the new ones. The housekeeper endeavors to keep the help as long as she can, using persuasion, kindness, and forbearance, striving to teach them the best and easiest way to do their work, bearing with their imperfections, overlooking a great deal that is actually repulsive, not expecting to find in the hard-working individual the graces of a Marie Antoinette, or the inherent qualities of a Lady Jane Gray. The housekeeper should not only be scrupulously honest herself, but should insist that the maids be honest. It is true that almost irresistible temptations and opportunities to steal are constantly thrown in the way of the maids; and those that are steadfastly honest deserve great credit. If a maid is neat and clean in appearance and does her work well--these qualities cover a multitude of sins. From the standpoint of many housekeepers, too much curiosity and gossiping are the chiefest and quickest causes--next to the neglect of work--for a maid's dismissal. A housekeeper is usually disliked by the maids that do not want to do their work, just as a stepmother is hated by some stepchildren, regardless of her kindness and her consideration for their welfare. Employes in any business prefer to take their orders from the person that pays them their money. For this, they are not to be blamed; but if the proprietor or the proprietor's wife wishes to retain the services of a good housekeeper, and be relieved of the trying ordeal of training the help, he or she will not encourage tattling from the housekeeper's inferiors. THE HOTEL PROPRIETOR'S WIFE. Implicit confidence should exist between the housekeeper and the proprietor's wife. This does not mean that the proprietor's wife should take the housekeeper automobile riding. Any proprietor's wife that enters into such a degree of intimacy with any of her husband's employes distinctly displays the hallmarks of plebeanism. The writer does not want to become an iconoclast, but she believes that all business should be conducted on a business basis. There must be an unwavering loyalty to the interests mutually represented, at all times and under all circumstances. The proprietor's wife that goes to the help's dining-room or to the laundry, presumably to press a skirt or a shirt-waist, but in reality to see what she can see and to hear what she can hear, is disloyal to the management. She will always have poured into her ears stories that will annoy her and keep her worried. There are maids in a hotel always ready to "keep the pot boiling." Such a proprietor's wife not only encourages malicious slander and tattling, but she will soon be asking questions of the inferior help about the housekeeper's management. Soon the inferiors will be giving the orders instead of the housekeeper, and the discipline will be spoiled. Besides, the proprietor's wife will be told imaginary wrongs, and exaggerated stories concerning some maid employed in the hotel, which will necessitate the maid's discharge. Whether the story is real or imaginary, the proprietor's wife is not benefited by the stories she has heard. She should ask herself: Is this loyalty? Isn't it unmistakably the earmark of commonality? No housekeeper will object to taking orders from the proprietor's wife. The progressive housekeeper is always polite to her employer's wife, though not to the extent of being deceitful. The housekeeper must bear in mind that what is of vital importance to the proprietor of a hotel is of equal importance to the proprietor's wife. The housekeeper tries to work in harmony with them both, which means success of the highest order. To do this, the housekeeper must retain her dignity, often under the most exasperating circumstances. The proprietor's wife is privileged to frequent any part of the hotel she may choose to, but how must a housekeeper feel to see her conversing in the most familiar tones with the waitresses and the chambermaids, and to know that she is listening to malicious slander of the lowest kind. A housekeeper can have no control over the employes where the discipline is thus ruined, or where there is so much unpleasantness arising from unwise interference over trifles, by the proprietor's wife, or from officious meddling by the families of the prominent stockholders. _Tact Can Not be Taught._ "Bumping up against" the proprietor and proprietor's wife or family is one of the most perplexing problems that the housekeeper has to solve. The ability to combat with such a problem can not be imparted by teaching. It has to exist in the housekeeper herself, in the peculiar, individual bent of her nature. No amount of preaching and teaching can ever endow a housekeeper with the ever ready wit characteristic of the "Irish tongue." The savory reply, "O, Mrs. B., you are a dream of loveliness!" would be sweet to some ears while to others it would be a "harsh discord." It is impossible to teach which ear would or would not be the receptive one. Any attempt on the part of the housekeeper to work up these qualities, "by rule" would only be a failure Even the "Golden Rule" fails sometimes to bring about desired results. The better plan, perhaps, for the housekeeper to adopt is to live her own life, and not try to imitate others. If she tries to be great, she will be nothing; if she tries to be plain, simple, and good, she may be great. CHARACTER IN THE HOTEL BUSINESS. There is no royal road to success for the hotel clerk, steward, manager, or housekeeper. The hotel business is peculiar in many respects; it teaches conspicuously the great importance of character. There is no ingenious system that the housekeeper may adopt to insure her success. Getting into trouble or keeping out of it is largely a matter of luck, influenced by the kind of help that she is able to secure. But, first and last, her success depends on her character--her own energy, industry, intelligence, and moral worth. ROOM INSPECTION. When inspecting rooms, the housekeeper will notice that the room is completed with the following necessaries: One bed, one foot blanket. One rocking chair and two straight chairs. One writing table and a scrap basket. One cuspidor. One dresser. One clothes tree or wardrobe. One ice water pitcher and two glasses on a tray. If there is no bathroom, or stationary hot and cold water, there must be a commode, a wash bowl and pitcher, soap dish and clean soap. One slop jar, one chamber. Four face towels. If there is a bathroom, one bath mat and toilet paper in the holder. One small mirror. One cake of bath soap and two bath towels are needed. On the dresser in every guest room should be a box of safety matches and a candle. Candles are so cheap, and candle holders may be purchased for a trifle, which will answer the purpose as well as silver. No one who has lived in hotels but knows how annoying it is to be left in total darkness for half an hour, on account of a burned out fuse, when they are dressing for the theatre and in a hurry to complete their toilet. The clerk in the office with the room rack in front of him has no conception of the rooms except that they are in perfect order. Perfect order does not only mean that the bed is neatly made, the floor clean and all the furniture dusted; soap, towels, matches, candles and glasses in their places, but everything must be in perfect working order. Let the housekeeper's inspection begin then with the door. The lock must be in order, and the key work properly. It is embarrassing to the clerk to have to listen of a morning to such complaints as "my door would not lock, and I was compelled to push the dresser in front of it to insure safety." But this "kick" is often heard in first-class houses. The transoms next should receive attention--see if they will open and close. Next the electric lights; they must all be in order and burn brightly. The dresser drawers must move readily, and be perfectly clean. The windows must be carefully examined to see if they open and close easily, and they must have no broken cords. A housekeeper's intelligent attentions to these details will greatly aid the clerk in prompt service to the guests, and will insure to the hotel the service that will be its own best advertisement. GOSSIP BETWEEN EMPLOYES. There are only two classes in a hotel among its employes; one class is quite perfect and pure as angels, while the others are black sheep and altogether unspeakable. There is no transition, no intermediate links, no shading of light or dark. A hotel employe is either good or bad, and this rigid rule applies not only to moral character, but intellectual excellence also is measured by the same standard. In a large hotel of, say 250 employes, everybody seems to know everybody and everything about everybody. Everybody knows that he is watched, and gossip, both in the best and worst sense of the word, rules supreme. Gossip is, in fact, public opinion, with all its good and all its bad features. Still, the result is that no one can afford to lose caste, and everybody behaves as well as he can. The private life of hotel employes is almost blameless. The great evils of society do not exist; now and then a black sheep gets in, but his or her life soon becomes a burden, everybody knows what has happened and the employes, being on a whole so blameless, are all the more merciless on the sinners, whether their sins are great or small. What most impresses one in hotels is the loyalty among employes. No one tells them what to do or what to say, or what not to say, or what not to do, yet you will observe that one who professes to be your friend will not say unfriendly things behind your back. This condition is noticeable among those of inferior rank, as well as among managers, stewards, clerks and housekeepers. As a rule, one table in the main dining room is reserved for the officers, clerks, stewards, cashiers, bookkeepers, checkers, stenographers and housekeepers. Most of them have been taught a few rules of life wisdom by their seniors. At any rate, few of them are seen with their elbows on the table. They are observant enough of social forms to eat pie with a fork, and their teaspoon is always in the saucer; they eat slowly and take time to triturate. There is always one "wit" to make one sorry when the meal is ended. Many hotel employes possess intellectual powers to a great degree. Many clerks are college graduates. The housekeeper is not, as some have said usually a member of the broken down aristocracy, some one who has seen better days, whose duty it is to walk through the halls with a "persimmon" countenance, in search of the evildoer; never was a statement more false. Hotels employ a house detective to look after its morals. A housekeeper is more apt to be an assistant, who has been promoted to the very responsible position of housekeeper. _Relationship Between Housekeeper and Women Patrons._ A simple acquaintance is the most desirable footing with all persons, however desiring. The unlicensed freedom that usually attends familiarity affords but too ample scope for the indulgence of selfish and mercenary motives on the part of the women patrons. It would be safe to say that the housekeeper owes to all women patrons the courtesy and consideration due one woman from another. It has been said that woman's inhumanity to woman makes countless millions mourn. But this condition is happily fading away; within the last decade women have been improving in manners and morals toward each other. The housekeeper should take the initiative, consider the "roof as an introduction" and assume a kindly interest in the welfare of the women guests. Politeness is the sweetener of human society and gives a charm to everything said and done. But a housekeeper may be called on to sacrifice her duty to her employer. In this case she must not let any weak desire of pleasing guests make her recede one jot from any point that reason and prudence have bid her pursue. _Birds of Passage._ One of the most striking conditions in modern hotel life is that few hotels retain their heads of departments any great length of time, while the inferior working class remains in one hotel for many years, and often for a lifetime. This significant state becomes more marked from year to year, and the question arises: What has brought about such a changed condition? The traveling public surely is gratified to see a familiar face behind the desk, in the housekeeping department, and also in the dining-room. In days past, clerks, stewards, and housekeepers, were identified with the same hotel until a retirement from all active life would see them replaced by others. But of late they seem to have earned the title, "birds of passage." Temperament creates the atmosphere of your surroundings, and if you would remain in a fixed place, you should cultivate the respect of all, and, if possible, their love, also. A nervous man or woman speaks in haste and uses a sharp tone of voice over mere trifles, which, to an ignorant mind, may have a tendency to create dislike, causing results that may prove distinct barriers to his or her success as a manager or housekeeper, whereas a placid man or woman could bring about the same result with gentler tones, thereby preventing useless friction and hatred. _Directing and Commanding._ Heads of hotel departments should cultivate their talents for directing and commanding. Politeness, which belongs to all persons of good breeding and is essential in the ordinary transactions of life, is so minutely cultivated by the heads of hotel departments as to be conspicuous in its absence; some are not even civil, which is the very least that one person can be to another. I do not mean to infer that an employe is to be forgiven if he gets intoxicated and is late to his work every morning, nor that a sneak, a thief, or an agitator should be excused. To handle help on the forgiving plan in such cases, employers would become sentimental reformers and the worst kind of failures. Sentiment may be comforting, but it is silly when employed in business, under these conditions. Those that desire may practice forgiveness, but when it costs time and money and brings gray hairs to those that are doing the forgiving, it is better to keep as near the line of sternness as possible. Everyone employing labor should be very careful of his manner in expressing his disapproval of the actions of subordinates. A reprimand should never be made in anger. If a grave offense has been committed, reprimanding should be done with great coolness and reserve, if you would look to future events and their probable consequences. Impertinent and forward people may be checked by cold reserve. Often the faculties for transacting business and the talents for directing and reprimanding are considered by fond admirers to be the gift of nature, when, in reality, they are the outcome of self-control and education. Chesterfield says: "If you are in authority and have a right to command, your commands delivered in _sauviter in modo_ will be willingly, cheerfully, and, consequently, well obeyed." _Attention to Details._ Hotel housekeeping is a science. The crowning excellence, as all acknowledge, lies in giving strict attention to small things. Successful hotel-keeping is an artistic achievement in which everything is in its right place, is of the proper grade, shade, quality, and cleanliness, harmonizing in every particular. Details are repulsive to the lazy or the listless. Let the housekeeper feel the greatness of her position and the importance of her duties, if she so desires to succeed. Enthusiasm is an element that can least be spared--one that must accompany the housekeeper at every step. The question has arisen whether the housekeeper should learn without rules, by blundering experience, or should she take what the approved experience of others has found to be the best. No one doubts the answer. The true way is to submit to rules and regulations and methods of experienced and practical hotel housekeepers that have made their profession a life-long study. THE PROGRESSIVE HOUSEKEEPER. The ocean is an everchanging wonder of kaleidoscopic views and no eye ever wearies of its beauty. The earth arrays herself in such gorgeous costumes so pleasing to man's sight that few there are who want to leave her to try another. The child tires of the old ragdoll and cries for the "Teddy bear." Put a new dress on the old ragdoll and it will again become the favorite. If a housekeeper is not progressive, her employer will tire of her. The onward trick of nature is too much for the average housekeeper, and gladly would she anchor, but to do so means to sink. She must keep up with the times, she must travel the pace of progress. There is nothing new under the sun, but there is constant metamorphosis. Time brings changes. Competition is strong and housekeepers must be on the alert for any accomplishment that will aid in their calling. In America, life is a universal race for exalted positions. Then get out of the rut and keep up the long list of illusions, of which a rapid succession of changes and moods and styles and ideas is the secret. You must keep busy. There is only one sin that you can commit; that sin is idleness. Polish the old things and make them look like new. Do not let your footsteps become so narrow that they will end in a turkey-track. Keep up your practice of thoroughly cleaning rooms, overhauling furniture, and sending out a mattress now and then to have it repaired. Take up a carpet and have it cleaned. Give the radiators a coat of bronze. Have the ceiling lights cleaned. Paste up the wall-paper that is hanging from the wall. Polish the brass on the stairs. Put in an order for some new material of which to make dresser covers. _Decorative Dresser Covers._ The writer has just completed some very pretty dresser covers for the parlor floor rooms, en suite. The work is fascinating, and the linen-room girls and parlor-maids can lend a hand at making them. Any kind of linen material can be adapted that can be laundered with ease and success. Plain white linen is a well-deserved favorite and makes thoroughly useful, as well as fashionable, dresser-covers. A cheaper material can be found in linen toweling--just as pretty and just as durable as the plain white linen. The dresser cover just covering the dresser and not allowed to hang down is the favorite mode just now. It can be simply hemmed; but a charming and more attractive pattern is with scalloped edges and elaborated ends. These scallops are made with a spool, medium size, No 50 being especially suitable. Put the spool on the edge of the material and with a lead pencil, draw a crescent and then another, clear across the end. Pad the scallops with common white darning-cotton, using the old fashioned chain-stitch. Before putting the work in the embroidery-hoops, sew a strip of muslin, about six inches in width to the edge of the dresser cover. This will aid in getting the work placed in the hoops and will enable you to do smoother and more satisfactory work. Embroider the scallops with linen embroidery floss, size "D," using the buttonhole stitch. An eyelet at the termination and just above each crescent will add materially to its effectiveness. Rip off the muslin and launder before cutting out the scallops. This will prevent the ugly fringe seen on so many embroidered dresser-covers. THE HOUSEKEEPER'S SALARY. Too many housekeepers of the present day neglect the small things. They want to draw large salaries and let the house take care of itself, while they visit with the guests and gossip and have a good time. The clerks are kind and do not report to the manager the little complaints that come to the office every day; but the housekeeper's conscience should tell her that she is not earning her money. The housekeeper that is above her profession, is not interested in her work, and that is trying to get into some church society, had better not engage in hotel housekeeping, for her housekeeping duties will require her constant attention at the hotel. There will be some difficulties to settle at all times, which will require her presence. Maids work better when they are conscious of a vigilant overseer. They take more pride in their work when they know that every nook and corner is being inspected by the housekeeper. Especially is this true if the housekeeper is successful in commanding the respect of her subordinates. The housekeeper that lays the blame of some grave mistake on her assistants is not worthy of the name of housekeeper. Had she been there, attending to her affairs, it would not have happened, for she would have prevented or stopped it. The housekeeper, by diligence, attendance to her duties, and by economies, figures greatly in the success of a hotel, and makes her own position. The position does not make her. Then it is fairly reasonable to suppose that such a housekeeper should make her own salary; that she should command and receive her price; that she should be paid according to the amount she is really worth, and not the fixed scale that the hotel pays. If a housekeeper can show by her books, by her management, and by her economies, that she is worth more than her predecessor, she is entitled to more pay, and by all means should receive more pay. The average salary paid a housekeeper is not enough to properly clothe a housekeeper. After her laundry bills are paid, what has she left to lay up for the "rainy day," to say nothing of an old age, when parsimony and incompatibility of temper and "set ways" make her, in any place, an unwelcome personage. _The Faithful, Efficient Housekeeper._ The housekeeper that sticks to her post and is always looking after her work is surely worth more to her employer than one that has worn the carpet threadbare in front of her mirror, or one that puts in a great portion of her time at the bargain-counter, or the theater, or with a novel in her hand. Surely, the hard-working housekeeper, the one that makes her occupation a study and is always at her post, is worth more to her employer than the housekeeper that is trying to do society "stunts," to ring in with people of fashion, to "out-dress" them. But the majority of hotels pay much the same salaries to housekeepers, good, bad, and indifferent. The progressive housekeeper that thus looks after her employer's business every day, always at her post in the linen-room, is uncomplaining, shoulders the blame, and is not always knocking on his private-office door and entering complaints about this or that, is surely worth more than thirty dollars a month to any hotel man. If he does not think so, he should not blame the progressive, faithful, reliable housekeeper, if she promptly accepts a position with better pay. INSPECTION AND CLEANING OF ROOMS. The housekeeper, or her assistant, should go through every room twice a day. In the morning, the housekeeper should take the house-plan, inspect every room, and check up the rooms that have been occupied. If the bed in a room has been used, and if there is baggage, she should check this also, and should turn the report into the office by nine o'clock. Then, in the afternoon, when the maids are supposed to have finished their work, the housekeeper should take her pencil and pad and thoroughly inspect every room and the maids' work. She may find a ragged sheet or pillow slip; if so, she should make a note of it. Some room may be short of a towel, soap or matches; she should make a note of this also. Around the gas-jets and in the corners, she may find "Irish curtains" (cobwebs); in the commode, she may find a vessel that was forgotten; in a dresser drawer, a man may have left his cast-off hose, and suspenders. Some maid may have swept the center of the room, while under the bed and under the dresser there may be dust of two weeks' standing; in another room, the housekeeper may find a bathtub forgotten--all of which she should write on the pad. This work will occupy two hours of her time in a two-hundred-room house. When the maids come on watch at six o'clock, each one should be given instructions to go back and finish her work. In some hotels, the maids do not go off duty of an afternoon, but continue working until six o'clock. In this case, the housekeeper should issue her instructions at once. HOW TO CLEAN A ROOM. There are many ways to clean a room, but there is just one best way to clean it thoroughly. "Dig out the corners" should be the watchword of every successful housekeeper. She would rather the maid would leave the dirt in a pile in the center of the room than fail to clean out the corners. If one word could be selected that means the most and needs the most emphasis in the science of housekeeping, that word would be "cleanliness." The first desideratum, therefore, of the chambermaid, is the scrub-pail and a piece of oilcloth--some maids use a newspaper--under it to protect the carpet. The first thing to do is to clean the small pieces of furniture. If the furniture is new, it should be only wiped with the dust-cloth. If it is old and marred, it should be washed with warm water and soap, and oiled with a good furniture-polish. It should then be set in the hall. The dresser drawers should be washed and the marble cleaned with sapolio; the mirrors should be polished, the windows washed, and the shutters dusted. The crockery should be cleaned and put in the hall. The bed should be covered with a dust-cover. The cobwebs should be swept down with a long-handled broom. The lace curtains should be shaken, and either taken down or pinned up. The closet should be swept out. The toilet-bowl should be scrubbed inside and out with the toilet-brush, and a disinfectant powder put in. The stationary wash-bowl should be scrubbed with sapolio, and the faucets polished, not forgetting the chain. The bathtub should also be scrubbed with sapolio, and the floor washed. The door should now be closed and the sweeping begun. A very good plan is to scatter wet paper over the floor to keep the dust down. The corners should be dug out and the dirt swept to the center of the room and taken up in the dust-pan. If the carpet is old, it should be sponged with warm water and soap, to which a little ammonia has been added. The carpet will look like new after this process. After the dust is well settled, all the wood work in the room should be washed; the bed and dresser should be washed and oiled, and all the furniture should be symmetrically arranged, and the windows closed on account of storms. One chambermaid can successfully look after eighteen or twenty rooms a day. Not all of the rooms are occupied every night. The maid should take advantage of the dull days to clean her rooms thoroughly; she should clean one room every day. THE IMPORTANCE OF GOOD BEDS. Competition is great, and success will come to the best and cleanest hotel. The traveler loves to slip into a bed with perfectly laundered sheets that do not look as if the maids had sprinkled, folded, and pressed them between the mattress, as chambermaids ordinarily do in hotels where there is a scant supply of linen. Sometimes the chambermaid will ask the laundryman for a pair of sheets to make up a sample-room, as the guest wants to receive a customer. The laundryman replies: "Well, just as soon as the machinery starts again, you may have them." There has been a breakdown; the belt is off; or something has gone wrong, and they have sent for the engineer to fix it. Then the housekeeper must go to some unoccupied room and strip the bed and use the linen for making up the bed in the sample-room, while the guest walks the floor and frets over the delay. Much time is saved if the hotel is supplied with plenty of linen. Sheets that cover only two-thirds of the mattress do not add to the cheerfulness and comfort of the guests. Many well grounded complaints are entered about this. Special laws have been enacted in some states, within the last year, regarding the length of sheets. Occasionally a guest finds it expedient to make his bed over, if he would have any comfort. The maid has put the double fold of the blanket to the top; it is a warm night, yet he fears to throw the blanket off--he might take cold. So he concludes to make his own bed, putting the single fold to the top, that he may throw some of it back. HOW A BED IS MADE. Good bed-making is the one trait par excellence in all good chambermaid work. To make a bed artistically is one important feature, and to make it so that the guest may rest comfortably is another, and, finally, just how is the best way to make a bed is a question worthy of consideration. In our big country of America, the traveler from Maine to California sees many styles of bed-making. In New Orleans is seen the picturesque canopy of pure white mosquito-netting tucked in neatly all around. In Kansas City is seen the snowy spreads plaited half way to the foot with numerous little folds. In New York is seen the pure linen hemstitched sheets, turned back with a single fold. To begin to make a bed, first, the mattress should be turned. The bottom sheet should then be tucked in carefully by raising the mattress with one hand and smoothing the sheet down with the other. The large hems should always be at the head, in order that no one may be compelled to lay his face where some one's feet have been. After the bottom sheet has been tucked in at the head, it should be tightly drawn and tucked in at the foot in the same way. Sheets should be long enough to tuck in one foot at the head and one at the bottom. If it is a brass bed, the sheets should be left to hang down. After the bottom sheet is on perfectly, it is easy to make a pretty bed, and one in which the guest may rest well. The top sheet should be put on, and tucked in at the foot only. The blanket should be put on with the single fold at the head. If the guest should get too warm, he can throw half of the blanket to the foot and yet have sufficient covering. After the spread is put on, a single fold as large as your hand should be made, then another fold one foot in width should complete the folding, and the spread should be neatly tucked in. The pillows should now be smoothed evenly and placed up aright, and the bed is made. HOW TO CLEAN WALLS. To clean a painted canvas wall does not require so much skill as patience. A painted canvas wall is very easily cleaned. Many housekeepers have them washed with ivory soap and water, and obtain good results. Others add a little ammonia to the water, and still others use the powdered pumice. The cost of painted walls are great, and it is a great saving to any proprietor, if the housekeeper can successfully clean a painted wall without calling the decorators. Perhaps the most practical and most economical way to do the work and obtain the best results is to wash the wall with water, in which has been dissolved a cake of sapolio. To proceed to clean the parlor walls: first, take out all the bric-a-brac and tapestry and furniture; then take up the carpet. Have the carpenter erect a scaffolding for the houseman to stand on. Have two pails of hot water, and in one let a cake of sapolio dissolve. Keep the other pail of water for rinsing. Have two large sponges, one for cleaning and the other for rinsing. Souse the cleaning-sponge in the pail in which the sapolio has been dissolved, then squeeze the water out of the sponge. Then begin on the ceiling or in one corner, cleaning only a small square at a time. After cleaning, rinse with the sponge from the clean pail, not making the sponge too dry. Do not wipe the wall with a cloth, but leave moist, after which have ready a pail of starch, and with an ordinary paint or white-wash-brush, starch the square that you have cleaned, before it is thoroughly dry. The starching-process is very necessary. It will leave a gloss on the paint, and also preserves it the next time it is washed; for, in this case, it will be the starch that will be washed off instead of the paint. To make the starch take ordinary laundry starch and dissolve one cupful in one pint of cold water. Into this pour boiling water until it is as thick as cream and let boil, stirring constantly. The following is an excellent preparation for cleaning wall-paper, and perhaps it might serve as well to clean walls hung with burlap: 2 pounds of rye flour. ½ pound of wheat flour. 1 handful of salt. Mix well together with water and bake one hour in the oven. Then peel and work back into a dough, adding ½ ounce of ammonia and ½ ounce of gasoline. This is not an expensive preparation and will clean papered or burlap walls very nicely. Calcimined walls will have to be re-decorated. A good way to clean hardwood floors in halls where the carpet does not entirely cover the floor, is to take a can of linseed oil and a small woolen cloth and dip one end of the cloth in the oil, being careful not to spill the oil on the carpet, or touch the edge of the carpet while cleaning; this will remove the dust and dirt, after which the floor may be polished with ordinary floor-wax put on with a flannel cloth and polished with a brick, over which has been sewed a piece of Brussels carpet. _How to Scrub a Floor._ What is prettier than a hardwood floor after it has been properly scrubbed? To scrub a floor and get satisfactory results is a science. To change the water frequently is one secret of success. "Elbow grease" is another. Mops are impossible, and this is another subject on which the housekeeper can wax eloquent. What is more disgusting than to see the baseboards of a room smeared, or the dirt shoved in the corners with an old dirty mop? Before commencing to scrub, place every article of furniture on the table and then sweep. Beginning in the rear of the door so as not to track over the clean part until it is perfectly dry, scrub with a brush a small section at a time; first wipe up with a damp rag and then with a dry one. The New York Knitting Mills, of Albany, N. Y., furnish remnants of cloth that are indispensable for scrubbing. Enough of these remnants can be bought for $3 to last six months. A little ammonia in the water will help to whiten the floors. The modern skewers from the kitchen are very useful in getting into the corners of the window sills and into the corners of the stair steps. A weak solution of oxalic acid and boiling water will remove the very worst kind of ink-stains from the floor. Pads for kneeling on are made of burlap, and one is given to each scrubber. The unnatural position that the scrubber assumes makes the work laborious; the scrubber may change her position frequently by getting clean water. HOW TO GET RID OF VERMIN. The worst kind of house-pests, if you do not know how to get rid of them, but not the easiest to exterminate, are bedbugs. They do not confine themselves to any section of the country, though the International Encyclopedia gives the belief "that up to Shakespeare's time they were not known in England," and that "they came originally from India." In Kansas, the bedbug is improperly called the chintz-bug, and is believed to dwell under the bark of the cotton-wood tree. There is no authentic truth for this belief. The spread of the bedbug is mainly due to its being carried from place to place in furniture and clothing. It has the power of resisting great cold and of fasting indefinitely. The eggs of the bedbug are very small, whitish, oval objects, laid in clusters in the crevices used by the bugs for concealment; they hatch in eight days. Under favorable conditions and slovenly housekeeping, their multiplication is extremely rapid. The greatest trouble lies with the housekeeper who allows the bugs to increase unchecked until they are so numerous in the floors and walls that it is nearly impossible to kill them off. It is useless waste of time to try to exterminate with Persian insect powder, or sulphur candles. These remedies have been recommended by the International Encyclopedia, but have not demonstrated their worth when subjected to tests by careful experimental methods, by the author. _Scientific Way of Extermination._ The only scientific and practical way to get rid of them is to clean thoroughly, religiously, and scrupulously the room and every article in it. Bedbugs are exceedingly difficult to fight, owing both to their ability to withstand the action of many insecticides and owing also to the protection afforded them by the walls and the woodwork of the room. If the mattress is old, it should be burned. The bed should be taken apart, the slats and springs taken to the bathroom and scalded, and then treated with a mixture of corrosive sublimate and alcohol, liberally applied, after which a coat of varnish should be given to the entire bed--slats, springs and all. The carpet should be taken up and sent to the cleaners. The paper should be scraped from the walls and sent to the furnace and burned, and the walls should be left bare until the bugs are exterminated. The holes in the walls and woodwork and the cracks and crevices in the floor should be filled up with common yellow soap. This is better than to fill them with putty; it is more practical and is easier to handle. Use the thumb or an old knife to put the soap into the holes; the workman should get the stepladder and go over the entire ceiling, getting the soap into every crack and crevice. After this is done, it will be impossible for the eggs to hatch or the bugs to get out. This is the most important part of the extermination of bugs. The floor should then be scrubbed, after which it should be well poisoned with the mixture of corrosive sublimate and alcohol. Every piece of furniture in the room should be washed and poisoned, and given a coat of varnish. _Treating the Mattress._ If the mattress is too good to be thrown away, the following will be found a good method to destroy the vermin in it: dissolve two pounds of alum in one gallon of water; let it remain twenty-four hours until all the alum is dissolved. Then, with a whisk-broom, apply while boiling hot. This is also a good way to rid the walls and ceiling of bugs. Getting on the stepladder, the workman should apply the wash with the whisk-broom, never missing an inch of the entire ceiling and walls, keeping the liquid boiling hot while using. It should be poured in all the cracks of the floor, in the corners, over the doors and over the windows. The operation should be repeated every day for two weeks, after which the woodwork should be painted and the walls papered. A strict watch should be kept on all the help's rooms, and any signs of bugs should be promptly treated with the mixture of corrosive sublimate and alcohol. _Cleanliness a Necessity._ Cleanliness is a prime factor in ridding rooms of vermin. In many of the hotels there is one woman appointed to look after the bugs, and she has no other duty. A good night's sleep is necessary to health and happiness. It can not be found in a room with vermin. The housekeeper should keep up the continual warfare against the standing army of bugs, and never allow the enemy to take possession. Roaches, or water-bugs, are easily exterminated. Hellebore sprinkled on the floor will soon kill them off. It is poison. They eat it at night and are killed. Some people object to having poison around. In that case, powdered borax will prove an expedient eradicator. A good way to keep rats from a room is to saturate a rag with cayenne pepper and stuff it in the hole; no rat or mouse will touch the rag, not if it would open a communication with a depot of eatables. _A Nauseating Subject._ Of all the obnoxious being that get into a hotel, the one whose feet smell to the heavens is the worst. Every housekeeper in America--heaven bless them--if she has a normal and simple mind as fits her calling, finds smelling feet an intolerable nuisance. Health requires at least one bath a day for the feet, and when they perspire freely they should be bathed twice a day. What must be said of the maid who, on entering a room, compels you to leave it on account of the sickening odor from her feet. In a case like this, the housekeeper must "take the bull by the horns," tell the maid that "her feet smell" and that "she must keep herself cleaner." The maid's feelings are not to be spared in the performance of this important duty. After washing the feet carefully twice a day for a week a cure will be effected. Clean hosiery should be put on every day. A very good remedy for offensive feet is a few drops of muriatic acid in the water when bathing the feet before retiring to bed. THE SUPERIORITY OF VACUUM CLEANING. This is an age of surprises and scientific researches. The up-to-date vacuum-cleaning machine is a huge debt to an ancient past. It is a big improvement over the methods employed in days gone by. As a preventive for moths, it has no equal. In hotels where this labor-saving device has not been installed, carpets must be carried to the roof to be cleaned, or sent to the regular carpet-cleaners, and soon converted into ravelings. Carpets are very expensive, and, if you want your money's worth from them, you must preserve them from moths. In order to do this, they must be either vacuum-cleaned or taken to the roof every six months and given a beating. After the moths get a start in a carpet it is surprising to learn what vast inroads toward destruction they can make in a few weeks. Moving the furniture and thoroughly sweeping and brushing the edges with turpentine are good preventives. But nothing will so effectually destroy them as does the vacuum-cleaning process. In order to secure detailed information regarding the workings of the vacuum-cleaning system for hotels, I wrote to a gentleman in Milwaukee, who is probably the best informed man on that subject in the country. Besides being in the vacuum-cleaning business, he is a hotel man himself and therefore knows how to meet the needs of the hotel housekeeper. I quote a part of his reply: _System Explained by an Expert._ "The vacuum-cleaning system in a hotel will pay for itself every year by reducing the cleaning force and by increasing the life of carpets, rugs, hangings, upholstery, and decorations, whether paper, fresco, or paint. "In hotels where this system is in use--and their number is increasing every month--carpets and rugs are cleaned on the floor. Right here is a big saving. First, taking up and relaying carpets is expensive. There is nothing that wears them out quicker than this sort of handling and the beating and "tumbling." Vacuum-cleaning not only saves this, but saves the daily wear and tear of grinding in the dirt and wearing off the nap with a broom. Third, with the vacuum-system, valuable rooms are never put out of commission while the carpets and rugs are away being cleaned. "Not only are the carpets and rugs kept cleaner by the vacuum-system, but everything else is cleaner because dust is kept down. The housekeeper of a certain hotel told the owner that since he put in the vacuum-system, the transoms had to be washed only one-fourth as often as before. Now, the dust on those transoms came out of the air. It settled everywhere, but it showed plainly only on the transoms. With the vacuum-system, there is only one-fourth as much dust to settle on the walls and decorations, and even that little is quickly removed with the vacuum-wall-brush. Dust on the walls is what causes the unpleasant, musty smell of many hotel rooms. Keeping walls clean means less frequent redecorating. _Purifies Nearly Everything._ "Upholstered furniture is quickly and thoroughly cleaned by the vacuum-method. Dust is removed not only from the surface, but also from the folds and creases and even the interior of the cushions. Moths and their eggs are sucked out from their hiding places under the upholstery buttons or in the corners. "Mattresses and pillows are kept clean and sweet by vacuum-treatment. Passing the cleaning tool over the surface prevents dust from accumulating and sifting in. It sucks out the stale dusty air inside and draws in fresh air, thus preventing that unpleasant musty smell which hotel beds sometimes have. "By the vacuum-method, tapestries and hangings are kept fresh and bright without the trouble and expense of taking them down. One hotel manager told me his vacuum-system saved him $10 every time he cleaned the hangings in his dining-room, for it used to cost him that sum to have them re-draped. "By means of a special brush, wood and tile floors can be cleaned without the dust of dry sweeping, or the muddy aftermarks of sawdust. _Vacuum Always on Tap._ "The most and recent important improvement in vacuum-cleaning consists in having the vacuum or 'suction power' always 'on tap' on every floor. At convenient points in the corridors, nickel-plated taps are placed. To these, the housemen or maids can quickly attach the rubber hose connected with the cleaning-tools. Opening a valve turns on the suction or vacuum. Then, as fast as the tool is moved over the surface to be cleaned, dust and dirt are sucked through the hose into the pipes and away to an air-tight dust-tank in the basement. The 'on tap' vacuum is always ready for use. No need to telephone or send word to the engineer to start that pump or to stop it when the work is done. "Although the vacuum, or suction, is kept on tap all the time, practically no power is consumed except when the cleaning is going on. Even then the amount of power used--whether it be steam or electricity--is automatically proportioned to the number and the size of the cleaning tools in use. Whenever you lay down the sweeper to move a chair, just so much less power is consumed while the tool is idle. If one sweeper is in use, only one-tenth as much power is needed as when ten sweepers are working. The little upholstery tuft-cleaner consumes only one-ninth as much power as the carpet-sweeper. This means a great saving of power and is a great improvement over the old vacuum-methods, by which it was impossible to keep the vacuum on tap and by which, once the apparatus was started, full power was consumed, no matter how many sweepers were at work." THE LINEN-ROOM AND THE LINEN-WOMAN. The linen-woman has in her care all the beautiful and expensive linen in the hotel; if she is careless in counting it when sending it to the different departments, careless in counting it after it has been returned, there will be a deficit in the "stock-report" at the end of the month. The linen-room is a position of trust. The linen-woman should be as accurate in counting her employer's napkins and table-cloths as the cashier is in counting his employer's dollars. The following set of rules and essential requirements are suggested for the management of the linen-woman: 1. She must be prompt to open the linen-room at 6:30 a.m. 2. Must not leave the linen-room without notifying the housekeeper. 3. Must sort the linen. 4. Must see that no damaged article of linen is sent out to the guest-rooms. 5. Must mend all the linen. 6. Must keep track of the linen. 7. Must keep the linen-room books. 8. Must mark the new linen before sending it out. The linen-room is the housekeeper's pride. What is more pleasing to a housekeeper than to look into a well-kept linen-room. This room is the housekeeper's "stock-exchange," the room where all her business transactions take place. It is also her home. She has her geraniums in the window and her desk in one corner. She has her sewing-machine, and telephone, and a bright rug or two on the spotless floor. The linen-room is the place where the housekeeper is found or her whereabouts made known. The room should be thoroughly cleaned every Saturday, and swept and dusted every day. It requires skill and labor to keep a well regulated linen-room looking neat and pretty. Linen-shelves are scrubbed, not papered. All heavy articles, such as spreads, blankets, pillows, and table-felts should be kept on the top shelf. The water-glasses, ice-water pitchers, extra slop jars, washbowls and pitchers, should also be kept on the top shelves, and covered with a dust-cover. The other shelves should be scrubbed, and the sheets, slips, face-towels, and bath-towels used for the guest-rooms, put on a shelf by themselves. The helps' linen should be put on another shelf. The table-linen should be placed by itself, and so on--a place for everything and everything in its place. _How Linen is Mended._ The table-cloths should be mended first before they are sent to the laundry. The best way to mend table-linen is first to fill the holes with darning-cotton, just as you would if you were darning a stocking; then loosen the presser-foot of your sewing-machine and darn it down neatly with the machine. If the hole is very large--say as large as your hand--the better way is to cover the hole with darning-net before filling it in with the darning-cotton; then it may be finished on the machine. When the table-cloths are too bad to mend, the large ones can be cut down into small ones and the small ones into tray-covers. Old napkins can be sewed together and used for cleaning-cloths. Table-linen is very expensive and the careful housekeeper will easily save her salary above that of a careless one by properly taking care of the linen. _How Coffee Bags Are Made._ The coffee-bags should be made from the stewards' dictation. No two stewards will have them made the same. Bath-towels, when damaged, may be made into wash-cloths, and used in the public baths. The cases for hot-water bags are made of white flannel. A supply of soap, matches, toilet-paper, and sanitary powder, should be kept in the linen-room, where it is convenient for the maids. The progressive housekeeper will not allow the stock of linen to grow too small. She will see that it is replenished each month. The linen-room should be opened at 6:30 a.m. and closed at 10:00 p.m. If it is a commercial hotel, the linen should be portioned among the maids, in the morning. The linen issued in the morning should be charged to each girl on the slate. The maids should count the soiled linen on their floor, pin the count to the bundle, and bring it to the linen-room, where the linen-woman again should count it and give each maid credit on the slate. The linen-woman should deduct the clean linen issued in the morning from the soiled linen returned, and, if the linen-room owes the maid, she should be given her linen at once. After that, the maid should get only one piece of clean linen for one of soiled. If the maid brings in no soiled linen, she should not get any clean. In this way, the linen-woman will be able to keep track of the linen. She will be able to tell the manager where every piece of linen is at any time of the day. The dining-room linen should be issued in the same way. The linen-woman should be able to tell by her books how many napkins are in the dining-room, how many are in the laundry, and the number that are on the shelf in the linen-room. It may not be an innovation, but a blackboard in the linen-room will be of great assistance to the housekeeper in copying the changes that are sent up from time to time during the day. The board may be freshly ruled every day, with as many columns as there are maids, and the maid's name, or number, should be written above her column. As the changes are sent up on a pad by the clerks, the linen-woman should copy them on the board, putting each maid's changes under her name. The maids should take the chalk and draw a straight line through their changes, indicating that the rooms have received proper attention. As there are few hotels that have not had some trouble about reporting changes, it would be a splendid idea for the clerk to insist on the housekeeper or the linen-woman signing for the changes. The fact that the clerk can produce his duplicate, showing the time to the very minute he sent the change, is not proof that the change was received in the linen-room. The bell-boy may be a new boy, and may have taken the change-slip to some other part of the house. But if the housekeeper, or the linen-woman, signs the pad on which the changes have been sent up, and the pad is returned to the office, the housekeeper or the linen-woman will have to furnish some other excuse for the room being out of order, than that she did not get the change. The housekeeper should see that an accurate account is taken every month of all the linen, and correctly entered on the linen-room stock-book. This account should show the new linen purchased during the month. The following form is suggested for the stock-book for the linen-room: Inventory of Linen-Room for month ending January 1, 1908. ================+============+=====+=====+====+======++========= |Total No. | Plus| | | || Jan. 1, 1908. |last count | new |Grand|Worn| || |Dec. 1, 1907|stock|Total|out |Stolen||Net Total ----------------+------------+-----+-----+----+------++--------- Sheets | 800 | 50 | 850 | 25 | || 825 Slips | | | | | || Spreads | | | | | || Face-Towels | | | | | || Bath-Towels | | | | | || Table-Cloths | | | | | || Napkins | | | | | || Side-Towels | | | | | || Tray-Towels | | | | | || Tops | | | | | || Kitchen-Towels | | | | | || Glass-Towels | | | | | || Roller-Towels | | | | | || Bar-Towels | | | | | || Wash-room Towels| | | | | || ----------------+------------+-----+-----+----+------++--------- Paradise, indeed, to the housekeeper, is the hotel that has its reserve-linen closet, where, in case of accident in the laundry, she may find linen to put the rooms in order. On the other hand, how very discouraging it is where there is only one set of linen for the beds and the maids must wait until the linen is back from the laundry before they can put the rooms in order. In such hotels, the housekeeper spends much of her time running to and from the laundry. When a new linen-woman is installed in the linen-room, the housekeeper should write out all the details of the duties required of her, regardless of any previous experience she may claim to have had. CARE OF TABLE-LINEN. A table-cloth should be long enough to hang over the table, at least eighteen inches on all sides. Pattern cloths are prettier than the piece-linen. They are more expensive, but it pays to buy the best for hotel use. Linen, to have sufficient body to wear well, should have a certain weight to the square inch. Table-linen should weigh at least four and one-half ounces to the square yard. All pattern-cloths have the napkins to match. The napkins and table-cloths should have a tiny, narrow hem. They are best hemmed by hand, but this can not be thought of for hotels. It takes the same amount of money to purchase the unbleached linen as it does to buy the bleached. The Irish bleached linen is of a more snowy whiteness than that of Germany. This is owing to the climate of Ireland, which is particularly adapted by sunshine and rain for natural bleaching. _Table-Linen Most Important._ The table-linen is more important than the bed-linen, and should receive the first consideration in the laundry. It should be carefully counted and sorted by the linen-woman at night, after dinner, and should be ready for the laundryman who must rise very early in the morning in order to have the table-linen ready for the laundry-maids that come on duty at seven o'clock. A table-cloth should be folded lengthwise twice, then doubled, putting both ends together, then folded, and it will be ready for the shelf. Napkins should be put through the mangle three times and left without folding, so the linen-woman can easily sort them. _Removing Stains._ Fruit-stains in linen may be removed by pouring boiling water through the stained spot. Lemon juice and salt will remove iron-rust. Tea, coffee, chocolate, and fruit-stains should be removed as soon as possible by pouring boiling water over them. After fruit-stains have been washed a few times in soapsuds, they become as firmly fixed in the linen as though they were dyed there, and can only be removed by a bleaching process. A good bleach can be made by taking one pint of boiling water to one teaspoonful of oxalic acid and one teaspoonful of ammonia. One teacupful of ammonia to a wash will keep the table-linen white. The care of the table-linen is a very important feature of the housekeeper's work. In many hotels, the housekeeper is required to purchase the linen. Fashion changes in table-linen as in other things. A careful study of facts and figures has proved that, in proportion to the population, the United States of America consumes more linen than any other country in the world. It is not, however, a leader in the production of flax. Russia takes the lead in this industry. The United States grows flax for the seed and not for the fibre; hence very little weaving is done in this country. _Kinds of Linen._ Linen has a variety of names, as Holland, damask, et cetera. Damask linen was first made in Damascus--the oldest city in the world--and was figured in fruit and flowers. A long time ago linen made in Scotland was sent to Germany to be bleached; hence the name Holland. The old-time way of bleaching was long and expensive, sometimes taking an entire summer. After it was bleached by a natural process of open air, dew, and sunshine, it was then treated with an alkaline, and then buttermilk. It was left lying on the grass for a month, and sprinkled frequently with water and sometimes sour milk. At the present time, linen can be bleached in two weeks. The cost of bleaching is much less and linen fabric is one-half cheaper than formerly. The chemicals used in the modern process of bleaching greatly injures the fibre, and linen is not so durable as it was under the old-fashioned way of bleaching. _How to Test Linen._ The housekeeper in selecting linen at the counter may test the linen by ravelling out some of the threads. The threads that form the woof as well as the warp should be strong, and long thread linen. Never buy linen that is stiff and glossy, as it will be thin after it is laundered. Linen should be substantial, but pliant when crushed in the hand. Never buy a table-cloth that is part linen and part cotton, as the shrinkage of linen and cotton fibre varies greatly, which causes the threads to break, and the table-cloth will soon be full of holes. LAUNDRY WORK. "Order is Heaven's first law," sang the poet, and to keep order in a hotel seems not such an Herculean task. System makes work easy, and the superintendent of the laundry must insist on the work being systematically performed. Soap and water are the most important materials used in the laundry work. To do good work with little or no damage to the linen, soft water and good soap are absolutely necessary. In many parts of the United States, the water is permanently hard, and is a perplexing question to laundry workers. The first thing to do is to soften the water. It can not be made soft by boiling, and must be treated with chemicals which must be used before the soap is added. When soap is used in hard water before it has been softened, the soap unites with the minerals in the water, and clings to the linen like a greasy scum. Borax is the best softening agent for hard water. To soften water with borax, use one tablespoonful to each gallon of water. A tablespoonful of ammonia and one tablespoonful of turpentine to each washing will keep clothes white. Hard water may be softened with potash or sal soda, which is much cheaper than borax and ammonia, but potash and sal soda are both corrosive and very injurious to the linen. Great care must be used in softening water with these alkalines. If they are not thoroughly dissolved before using in the washer, little particles are apt to escape the solvent action of the water and stick to the linen and form brown spots which soon become holes. _Good Soap a Necessity._ Soap is the next cleaning agent to be considered. You can not have pretty, white linen without good soap. A good soft soap for use in hotel laundries can be made from the refuse fat from the kitchen. This soap will effect the cleaning of the hotel bed and table-linen, but for bundle-washing, flannels, and prints, a milder soap is generally used. A very good soap for washing flannels and prints may be made from the pieces of soap that are collected from the rooms. How linen is laundered and to be able to give a scientific reason for each step are the very first things a housekeeper should learn. No housekeeper is worthy of the title if she is unskilled in laundry tactics. Yet how few housekeepers there are that could give even a recipe for making bleach, to say nothing of the most effective way to use it so as to cause the least injury to the fabric? Few housekeepers know little or anything of the benefits of the scientific researches that have been made to render laundering easy. The linen must be carefully sorted and counted in the linen-room by the linen-woman. In hotels where the houseman gathers the linen from the different floors and carries it direct to the laundry, the laundryman has been known to dump it in the washer without sorting it. This is the source of many a lost pillow, blanket, nightshirt, and even pocketbooks and jewelry. Guests often put their valuables under the pillow or in the pillowslip and forget them. These valuables sometimes escape the chambermaid's eyes in her haste to strip the beds. Sometimes a new waiter in the dining-room will use a napkin to wipe his tray; these greatly soiled napkins should be rinsed out before they are put in the washer. _Why the Hotel Laundry Work is Discolored._ Is it any wonder that the sheets and table-linen soon get that brown color? All the soft water in the kingdom will not bring about the desired results if the linen is not carefully sorted. The napkins should be put in one pile, those that are badly soiled with mustard or gravy in another pile, and the table-cloths in another. Napkins and table-cloths that are stained with tea, coffee, chocolate, or fruit, should be laid aside and boiling water should be poured through the stains before they come in contact with soap, as the soap will help to set the stains permanently. The laundryman should rise early and have the first washing from the extractor before the laundrygirls make their appearance, which is usually at seven o 'clock. The table-linen should receive the first attention. It is the least soiled, the most expensive, and it may be needed before the bed-linen. The napkins and table-cloths should not remain long after they are shaken out. They will have a finer gloss if they are mangled immediately after being taken from the extractor. One reason that linen gets that dirty brown color is because it has not been properly rinsed before adding the blueing. The soap should be thoroughly rinsed from the linen before the blueing is put in the washer. How many hotel laundries send the linen to the linen-room damp and steaming and smelling of soap? Is it any wonder that the linen is soon full of holes and worn out? Two tablespoonfuls of kerosene in a washing will greatly aid in cleansing, though more soap must be used in this case. In many laundries, there is not sufficient help. There should be at least two girls employed to shake out and two at the mangles, in a 200-room house. Where there is bundle-washing it will require even more help than this. The kitchen-linen should be washed by hand on the board and not put in the washer. The housekeeper should be allowed plenty of help to properly do the work. _Bleaching Linens._ When clothes have become yellow by the use of impure water or any other cause, the snowy whiteness must be restored by a bleaching process. Chloride of lime and oxalic acid are powerful agents, and, if not quickly removed from the fabric, they will corrode and do much injury to the linen. Turpentine has some power as a bleacher as also has borax. Blueing will aid in keeping the clothes white, but do not use too much. There are a variety of blueings to be had. The indigo blue is the best. Starch will greatly aid in keeping clothes clean. It is made mostly from rice, wheat, corn, or potatoes. Only a little starch should be used with delicate fabrics. They should be no stiffer than when they are new. The starch should be completely dissolved in cold water before adding the boiling water. Stir the starch constantly while the boiling water is being poured in. A few things may be put in to give a gloss, and to make the iron run smooth; among them are paraffine, lard, kerosene, and gum arabic. _How to Iron._ Before commencing to iron, have ready a bowl of water and a cloth for smoothing wrinkles and rubbing away any soot or spots that may get on the garment. Have a piece of paraffine tied in a cloth to rub over the iron, and a knife for scraping any starch from the iron that may stick to it in the process of ironing. Put much weight on the iron and do not raise it from the garment but move it quickly over the surface. When a wrinkle is made, dampen it again with a wet cloth and smooth again with the iron. Always iron in a good light so that scorching may be avoided. A garment should be ironed quickly; otherwise it will dry out and much time will be wasted in going over it with the damp cloth and changing the irons. In ironing a white duck skirt, stretch it in shape quickly while it is damp and iron it into shape, else it will be long here and short there. When ironing a ruffled skirt, always iron the bottom ruffle first and turn it back while ironing the others. Iron around hooks and eyes and not over them. Never iron a crease in a garment unless it is necessary. A crease will mar the effect of the garment and also cause the threads to break sooner, thereby making holes. _Recipe for Making Bleach._ An inexpensive recipe for making a good bleach to be used every day will be found in the following: Fill a clean barrel half full of boiling water and put into it ten pounds of chloride of lime and stir until well dissolved. Dissolve ten pounds of caustic soda in boiling water and stir in the barrel. Fill the barrel with boiling water and stir. Let it settle and skim the little white particles from the surface, as these are what rot the clothes. Use one gallon of the bleach in a washing. Although laundering is one of the last kinds of work to receive the benefits of scientific research, much effort has recently been made to present easy and effective ways of laundering. The "how" and "why" has been learned. It is no difficulty for the housekeeper to hire a laundryman and to install him in his work with the words: "This is the laundry; you will meet with many difficulties in your line, but you must work out your own salvation." _How Curtains are Washed and Mended._ Take down the lace curtains that you are going to wash and shake them well so as to get all of the dust from them. Put them in cold water to soak. Then wash by hand in warm suds, to which has been added one teaspoonful of ammonia. Do not rub them, squeeze dry and rinse through two waters. Do not blue them. If they are of an ecru shade, put a little coffee in the water and they will look like new. Starch and stretch loosely on the curtain frames while they are wet. The holes can be drawn together while on the bars so they will never be noticed after they are dry, and it is a far better way to mend curtains than darning them on the machine after they have dried. Cream-colored curtains may be washed in the same way. Colored madras and silk curtains can be cleansed in gasoline. Great care must be taken, as gasoline is explosive. The curtains should be taken to the bathroom, and the door should be bolted and kept bolted until the curtains are cleaned and the gasoline is washed down the sewer. The curtains are then taken to the roof and aired for half a day. Embroidered and lace-trimmed pieces should be taken from the line while only half dry and immediately ironed, to secure the best result. To raise the embroidery, iron on the wrong side over several layers of flannel covered with a sheet of old linen. Never iron lace with the point of the iron, if you would have it look like new. Pull and pat it into place, picking out the loops with a hairpin, or with a pointless darning-needle or bodkin. Dampen it with a wet cloth and press with the reverse iron, using its "heel" only. When ironing circular centerpieces and table-cloths, see that the iron moves with the straight grain of the cloth. If this method is followed, the circular edge will take its true line. Guard against ironing on the bias or on a curve, lest the linen stretch hopelessly out of shape. Never fold a piece of this character after ironing it. THE HOUSEKEEPER'S RULES. If the management does not provide the housekeeper with rules, she is safe in formulating the following: 1. Maids must report for duty at 7:00 a.m. 2. Maids must lock all doors when leaving rooms. 3. No maid is allowed to transfer chairs or furniture from one room to another by order of the guests, unless they have an order from the office. 4. Maids must report at once any articles which are misplaced or taken from the rooms. 5. Keep all soiled linen in closets. 6. Maids must not leave any article of soiled linen lying in the halls. 7. Maids must not leave their brooms, feather dusters, dust-cloths, or sweepers, in the halls at any time during the day. 8. Any article found in the rooms must be brought to the linen-room, with the number of the room and date when found. 9. All keys found left in rooms and doors must be sent to the office. 10. When a tray of dishes is left in a room, the maid must ring for a bell-boy and have him notify the headwaiter or report it to the housekeeper who will telephone the headwaiter. 11. All ink, paper, and pens left in the rooms must be put in the wire ink and stationery-receiver. 12. The watch-girls must report at 6 p.m. and remain until 10 p.m. or later, if required. 13. All torn blankets and spreads must be brought to the linen-room for repairs. 14. Maids must not receive men friends in their rooms. 15. The housekeeper will relieve the linen-woman while she goes to her meals. _Sunday._ 1. Maids must report at 8 a.m. and remain until 1 p.m. 2. Watch-girls must report for duty at 1 p.m. and remain until 9 p.m. All of these rules can not be, at all times, strictly enforced by the housekeeper. She will make such modifications as are made necessary by circumstances. But rules she must have, and she must insist on their being observed. THE PARLOR MAID. Excepting the linen-room position, that of parlor maid is the most desirable situation that the hotel housekeeper can offer a girl. The wages are usually better than those of a chambermaid, and her work is not near so laborious. At all times, the parlor-maid is neatly dressed, suave, serene, and courteous. A quiet and unobtrusive manner is absolutely essential. She needs to take many steps during the day, and thus youth and a slender figure are the first qualities in one who wishes to make a success of the position. She meets people of wealth and refinement and the ultra fastidious, hence her position is a responsible one and requires a dignified appearance and demeanor. She must have self-respect and must claim the respect of others. None of the moralities must be omitted nor must she forget the daily bath, clean underwear, and clean hosiery every day. The morning is the time for the parlor-maid to do the cleaning, and she should wear about her work a washable dress of percale or dimity, with a white apron. In the afternoon and evening, this should be exchanged for a black skirt, white waist, and white apron. _Where Work Is Diversified._ She is expected to render quite diversified services. Her duties vary with the mode of life of those by whom she is employed. She will scarcely be called on to do all the work that is herein enumerated; but the success of any hotel employe is largely due to the number of things he or she is able to do well. A parlor-maid may raise her occupation to a level with that of millinery or dress-making. There is room at the top of the ladder for the expert parlor-maid just the same as there is for any other person in any other calling. In the small hotels, the parlor-maid usually cares for the proprietor's private apartments. In addition to these, a suite next to the parlor may be given her to keep in order. She can easily look after these rooms where she has only one parlor. The cleaning of the ladies' toilet-room and reception-hall and the ladies' entrance-stairs usually falls to the parlor-maid. She must look after the writing-rooms, do the high dusting, clean the tiles, clean the mirrors, polish the brass trays, clean the cuspidors, wash the lace curtains, and sweep and dust. In washing windows and mirrors, she should use warm water to which a little ammonia has been added. She should not use soap, as the grease in the soap makes the polishing difficult. Wipe with a dry cotton cloth and polish with a chamois skin. _Keeping Parlor in Order._ As the parlor must always be in readiness for the reception of guests, it is thoroughly cleaned early in the morning. Once a week is often enough for a thorough cleaning. Monday is the best day for it. The furniture is moved into the hallway or into one corner of the parlor, the parlor is swept and dusted and every article replaced before breakfast. On week days, the corners are dug out with a whisk-broom and the dirt taken up with the sweeper. The parlor is dusted frequently and the cuspidors washed at least four times a day. She should wash the cuspidors inside and out, using soap and water; then wipe with a dry cloth. Leave a little clean water in the cuspidors, as this will make the vessels easier to clean next time. _Cleaning Brass Trays._ If the brass trays under the cuspidors are very badly stained, the stains may be easily removed with a solution of vinegar and salt, to which has been added a little flour. Have the mixture boiling hot; rub the tray with the mixture with a flannel cloth, then wash the tray with hot water and wipe dry with a cloth. After this, it may be polished with a good mineral paste or some of the special preparations made for the purpose, using a flannel cloth for polishing. The high dusting is done with a long handled broom. Tie a bag made of cotton flannel over the broom and brush the walls downward. Brush the dust off the cornice and over the doors and windows. Then, using a clean cheesecloth duster, go over the doors, window sills, mantles, and furniture, changing the soiled dust-cloth frequently for a clean one. The housekeeper must see that the parlor-maid is supplied with plenty of clean dust-cloths. _The Maid's Many Duties._ If the fireplace is finished with tile, the parlor-maid should wash these with soap and water. She should polish the brass and replace it. The curtains and silk draperies should be taken down and hung in the open air and brushed with a whisk-broom. The rugs should be rolled up and the houseman should take them to a flat roof where they should be laid flat and swept. They should not be whipped or beaten, as "whipping" will ruin an expensive rug. When sweeping the stairs of the ladies' entrance, the parlor-maid should use the whisk-broom and dust-pan. The ladies' toilet-room requires some care to keep it always neat and clean. After sweeping the floor and dusting the doors, the bowls should be washed inside and out with the toilet-brush and a disinfectant put in. The stationary wash-basins should be scrubbed with sapolio and the faucets polished. There should be kept always on hand clean towels and soap, a comb and brush, a box of face-powder--the English prepared chalk is the best for toilet-rooms. The public baths on the parlor floor come under the parlor-maid's charge. She should keep the tubs and the floor clean, and see that soap and towels are supplied. The writing rooms should be cleaned before breakfast. The sweeping should be done the first thing in the morning. The desks should be supplied with fresh pen points, paper and ink once a day. The waste paper baskets should be emptied as often as is necessary, and the cuspidors should be cleaned at least four times a day. _Keeps Assembly-Room in Order._ It is usually the parlor maid's duty to take care of the casino, more familiarly called the assembly-hall. The casino floor requires very careful cleaning. No scrubbing or sweeping with ordinary brooms is permissible on a polished hardwood floor. It should be carefully swept with a bristle broom and the dust taken up on the dust-pan. The floor should then be dusted with a broom, over which has been tied the cotton-flannel bag made for the purpose. If there are any spots on the floor, they will have to be washed up, but this will take off the polish; therefore, it must be restored by the weighted brush or weighted box with Brussels carpet tacked on the bottom of it. The original polish is restored by pulling the box back and forth over the floor. A housekeeper will make a sad mistake if she attempts to scrub the ballroom floor. _Waxing the Ballroom Floor._ In most every hotel, it is left to the housekeeper to wax the ballroom floor before the opening of the "hop." The wax is sprinkled over the floor. In very large hotels in large cities where there are three or four public parlors, and where three or four parlor-maids are employed, their work is confined to the parlors. The parlor-maid waits on the ladies, helps them on and off with their wraps, and caters to their comfort both physically and mentally; keeps the parlor clean, and does many little acts which go to make a great big hotel seem like home. _The Card and Wine-Rooms._ No drinks are served in the public parlors, public halls, or cosy-corners. The wine-rooms are usually kept in order by the parlor-maid. The bar-porter should come for the bottles and remove the dishes. The parlor-maid should sweep and dust the wine rooms and wipe the tables, if they are polished wood. If they are ordinary dining-room tables, she should put clean table-cloths on them twice a day. The wine-rooms are usually named for the cities: Chicago, New York, Binghamton, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Denver, and New Orleans. The card-rooms are kept in order by the parlor-maid. There is seldom much furniture in a card-room, only chairs and tables. Sweeping and dusting once a day and a clean cover for the table is all that is required. To make a muslin cover for a poker-table, take a piece of muslin and cut it round to fit the table, allowing six inches to hang down. Run a casing on the edge of it, with a bias piece two inches wide. Run in the casing, a drawing-string of common wrapping-twine. The drawing-string must be as long as the muslin is around so it will not have to be removed when laundered. After it is laundered, put it on the table and pull the drawing-string, and tie under the table. In small hotels where the parlor-maid is called on to perform all of these manifold duties, she is assisted by the houseman. ABOUT CHAMBERMAIDS. Some person that does not know anything about the life of a chambermaid will tell you that the "chambermaid has no protection, no morality, and is without the influence of a fixed place or home atmosphere;" finally, that "chamber-work is the most degrading occupation a girl can engage in!" If a girl is not capable of a higher calling, why should not she make beds in a hotel when there is such a crying need from the hotel managers for conscientious and painstaking work? It is not every girl that Providence has blessed with a prima donna's voice. Not every girl can be admitted on the vaudeville stage. Not all have had kind and wealthy parents to send them through college and fit them for the higher attainments. _Chambermaid Can Take Care of Self._ The proprietor is ever ready to protect the maids from undue familiarity from the male patrons of the hotel. This is seldom necessary. The average maid meets an incivility with a cold disdain that puts to rout a second attempt. Men that wreck women's lives are found outside of hotels. _Religion a Factor._ It is an undisputed fact that the Irish-American Catholic girls make the best chambermaids. The comfort found in the Catholic religion compensates for the loss of home ties. She is without any danger signal save her own conscience, yet there does not exist on the face of the earth a more moral class of girls than the Irish-American Catholic chambermaids in the hotels of the United States. She goes at her work determined to use her experience as a stepping-stone to something higher. She encounters many pitfalls. She makes a few mistakes, but during her stay in Yankeeland she has learned President Roosevelt's maxim: "The man who never makes any mistakes is the man who never does anything." She is consoled by it, and from her pitfalls learns a lesson that enables her to avoid making the same mistakes in the future. _Not a Bad Day's Program._ At the Grand Union Hotel in New York City, and in hotels in other cities in New York state, the writer has learned from observation that the social side of the chambermaid's life is a pleasant one. She begins the day at 7:15 and quits at 4:00, except the night she is on watch. She is given a ten o'clock lunch; she has one hour for dinner, and at 2:30 she is given fifteen minutes for a cup of tea. The night she is on watch, she is served with a good dinner of chicken and all the good things the hotel affords. She has every third Sunday off and may follow her own will. She has time to cultivate acquaintances, and attend to her religious duties. _Christmas Time._ There is kindness and courtesy existing among the maids. When Christmas day draws near, the festivities are looked forward to with eager anticipation. Mysterious-looking bundles are coming in and going out. Friends are remembered. The father and mother, brother and sister over the water are not forgotten; and likewise the maids are not forgotten by their employer. The dining-hall is wreathed in holly, the table is loaded with all the season's delicacies. Trade is dull in the hotel, and the time is given over to enjoyment. _Chambermaids at Their Best._ There are evening parties in the "help's hall." The weekly "tips" or any "stray coins" are invested in sugar and butter, and "fondant" is made that would melt in your mouth. Then there is the "taffy-pull," the cups of tea, and the "fortunes told," over the cups. The jokes go round, the merry laughter resounds and gets so loud that the housekeeper, who has retired, rises, and hastens to put a stop to the noise. Arriving on the scene, she has not the heart to reprove them. Herein she tastes an old joy of girlhood. It is Christmas. She slips back to her own room and into bed again. The airs of "Killarney" and "The Wearing of the Green" die away, and the house is quiet. MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS. The housekeeper should furnish the houseman with a synopsis of his duties every morning. In addition to this, he has, of course, his regular duties--sweeping halls, dusting, cleaning cuspidors, washing windows, hanging curtains, moving furniture, laying carpets, and cleaning lights. Sweeping roofs and keeping gutters clean fall to his share also. Fortunate indeed is the housekeeper that can have a houseman for each floor. A skull cap and an over-all suit would be appropriate apparel for the houseman. * * * * * Any defective plumbing in bathrooms should be promptly reported by the housekeeper. Sometimes a guest will justly complain that the faucet in the bathtub is out of order, and the water trickling all night keeps him awake. A tray under the ice-water pitcher will save the table or dresser. * * * * * The soul of the housekeeper faints within her when a guest complains that he has been given a room reserved for "plain drunks." He calls attention to the fact that the carpet is patched in thirteen places, and at least as many patches of paper are in evidence on the wall. * * * * * The sweepers require special care. The maids should bring them to the linen room once a month where they are oiled. Never empty the sweeper by pulling the pan down, as this breaks the spring, causing the pan to drop lower than the brush, and the sweeper fails to pick up the dirt. A Bissell sweeper in the hands of a skillful maid will last three years. _Season for Repotting House-Plants._ September is the season for repotting house-plants. As flowers are such important factors of civilization speaking to us of nature's God, it is surprising that more plants are not seen in hotels, and that more proprietors do not adopt this ingenious plan of beautifying their dining-rooms and corridors, using palms instead of those cheap artificial roses which are so conspicuous in third-rate hotels. The stately palm lends an air of refinement that nothing else can give. The greatest obstacle to the growth of house-plants is dust. The palms, azaleas, and rubber plants may be sponged occasionally to keep them clean and healthy. Other plants may be taken to the bathroom and given a shower-bath. In the summer time, two or three times a week is often enough for watering the house-plants. In winter, once a week is sufficient. WHY HOTEL EMPLOYEES FAIL TO RISE. The reasons why some people never rise above commonplace positions should be made clear to all that seek employment or better conditions. In every field, there are those that never take the initiative, and they make up the great majority. They are apparently afraid of doing too much work, or of making themselves generally useful, or of doing some bit of work that has not been assigned them, for which they might not be paid, forgetting that the world's greatest prizes are generally bestowed on the individual who does the right thing without being told. If we wait to be told our duties, we cease to be moral agents and are mere machines, and, as such, stationary in place and pay. If you would succeed, cultivate self-confidence, which is one of the foundation stones of success. Rest assured your employer knows the difference between "bluff" and the real thing. "Nerve" will not win in the long run. It may accomplish temporary advantage, but there must be something back of "nerve." Practice self-control. If you can not control yourself, you can not control others. When the commander riding in front of his army takes to the woods in the face of the enemy, he can only expect his troops to follow his example. Anger is an unbecoming mood. In serenity, lies power. Keep busy. Improve each moment. Do not be afraid of too much work. The office-boy that sits around watching the clock, as if he might be waiting for his automobile to take him home, will never own the hotel. The superintendent that has not enough patience to instruct properly a beginner may lose valuable assistants and can not hope to achieve a great enterprise. Do not become discouraged and resign your position because it is not up to your ideal. It may be better to bear with the ills you have than fly to others you know not of. SUGGESTIONS IN CASE OF FIRE. It is hard to tell a housekeeper what to do or what not to do in case of fire. No two hotels are alike, and no two fires occur in the same way. Circumstances are to be considered first. Much depends on the location and the progress of the fire, and whether it is night or day. It is an old maxim "that fire is a good servant but a hard master." Shakespeare wrote: "A little fire is quickly trodden out, which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench." It is bad policy to delay sending in the alarm to the fire department. Many persons put off this important duty until it is too late. They reason that it might alarm the guests and cause a panic and that they will be drowned out. Thus they battle with the flames with the incomplete fire apparatus belonging to the hotel, refusing the petition to turn in an alarm to the fire department until the fire has gained such headway that it is impossible for even the skilled firemen to put it out. Thereby jeopardizing the lives of the hotel guests and also the lives of the firemen. No general in command of an army, no hero in battle deserves more praise than do these courageous men who hourly risk their lives to save lives and the property of others. Minutes count for something in a fire. The fire department can quickly and quietly put out a small fire, and the guests of the hotel may never know that a fire has occurred until it is all over. Panics usually follow when the people are face to face with the flames, and not at the sight of the fire department in front of the hotel. To a sensible mind, the fire engine and firemen should bring a feeling of safety. A feeling that if the hotel is on fire, the fire will soon be extinguished. Keep cool; don't run, and don't talk or give orders in an excited tone. Should a fire occur in a single room, close the door of that room to prevent the flames from spreading, and go to the nearest fire hose rack, and attach the hose to the plug and take the nozzle end to the door of the room in which the fire is started, then go back and turn on the water. If the water is turned on before the hose has been carried it will make the hose too heavy for one person to carry, especially if you have to climb a stairway or go any great distance; a fire hose when full of water is very heavy. The housekeeper should never desert the hotel in case of fire. She has in her possession keys to all doors. She is familiar with the location of windows and fire escapes, and the location of the fire extinguishers and axes. She knows the position of all stairways, particularly the top landing and scuttle to the roof. She knows where all fire proof doors are located, where the water pails are kept and she can render the firemen great service in directing them to a more advantageous position. All doors should be unlocked so that the firemen can have free access without breaking them in and causing delay. The doors, however, should be kept closed to prevent the fire spreading. The rapidity with which a building is consumed by flames is due to the wind and the draughts from stairways, open doors and windows and elevator shafts. The walls of elevator shafts and all vertical openings should be built of non-combustible material, such as brick and mortar and all elevators should be equipped with automatic traps. In case of a fire on the first floor, the automatic trap would fall when a certain degree of heat was reached and thus prevent the fire from reaching the second floor, and the progress of the fire would be delayed. All fire hose should be tested every six months. A leak may have caused the hose to become worthless. All hose should be attached to the fire plug at all times and the little wrench for turning on the water should be tied to the rack where the hose is kept. All these essentials should be examined and carefully scrutinized by every housekeeper and chambermaid. A fire can make great progress while some inexperienced person is fumbling with and trying to attach the hose and turn on the water. There should be a red light in the hall in front of the fire escape window; a red light can be seen better than a white one. The view of the fire escape window should never be obstructed by any kind of a curtain. All hotels should have a stand pipe, it will reduce the rate of insurance one-third. Although few people know how to escape down a rope fire-escape, every room in the hotel should be equipped with one. All fire departments should have a life net; dropping into a life-net is not so hazardous as sliding down a rope when one is ignorant of the proper way to do it. The life nets are made of woven rope with springs, and are 10 feet in diameter. The firemen hold this net and persons dropping into it can be saved. The Kirker Bender spiral tube fire-escape is the best and safest. In one minute 200 persons can slide through the Kirker Bender, to absolute safety. It is a very expensive fire escape, but expense should not be considered when building fire-escapes. There should be a fire-alarm box in every hall. Should a fire occur, on a floor where there is no fire-alarm box, a messenger would have to be dispatched to the office before the fire company could be notified. Some hotels have no fire-box at all. The fire-box being located a block away from the hotel. Fire-boxes can be put in hotels with very little expense. It is an old saying--"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." This is especially true in the case of fire prevention. If the following precautions are taken, fires from accident or spontaneous combustion seldom occur. _Fire Prevention._ Keep your hotel clean and never allow rubbish, such as paper, rags, cobwebs, old clothing and boxes to accumulate in closets and unused rooms. Don't allow coal oil lamps to be used by women patrons for the purpose of heating curling irons. Never put up gas brackets so they can be swung against door casings or immediately under curtains. Never keep matches in any but metal or earthen safes. Never keep old woolen rags that have been used in oiling and cleaning furniture, or waxing floors, unless in a tin can with a tin lid. _Origin of Fires._ Fires are the results of accidents, of spontaneous combustion, and of design. If they have been accidental, the cause can generally be discovered, and it will be found, that they might have been prevented. Carelessness and negligence are the cause of over two-thirds of all fires. Electrical fires are caused from electric light wires lying against wood or iron, or coming in contact with water. A stream of water thrown on a heavily charged electric light wire will give a shock and may even kill the fireman holding the nozzle. This is one reason why the electric lights are cut off when a fire is raging and thus leaving people to grope their way out through darkness. All hotels should have hall-ways lighted by gas, and especially should a gas light with a red globe be placed in front of all fire escape windows. Should a fire occur at night the housekeeper should give orders to have all doors unlocked and the gas lighted in the halls. THE EVOLUTION OF THE HOUSEKEEPER. The greatest wonder to my mind is that more women that must of necessity earn their livelihood, do not adopt the profession of hotel housekeeping. What nicer or more profitable way can a woman earn her living. Standing at my window of a stormy morning, I see many women going early through the wind and snow, sometimes rain, to their work, and I can not help comparing my daily tasks to theirs. Many of these women stand all day behind the counters of some large dry-goods store, where they are designated only as No. 1, No. 2, and so on. Some of the women are going to work in silk mills, where the looms keep up a deafening roar, and where, at their noon hour, they must eat a cold lunch. These women get a small salary, on an average $8.00 a week, and out of this they must pay their room, board and laundry bills. I could not refrain from contrasting the hotel housekeeper's position with that of other women-workers in cities. The housekeeper has a good, warm room, clean bed, hot and cold bath, and the best eating that the hotel affords. She may command the respect of all other employes in the house, and may make many life-long friends. My advice to any young woman seeking a situation is to start right at chamber-work, to keep her wits sharp, and her head on her shoulders. To be sure, there are many temptations, all of which the average girl should be able to resist. But a chambermaid with a modest and reticent disposition may never meet with any pitfalls, at least, no more than would be encountered in a dry-goods store or factory. From chambermaid, she may get promoted to the linen-room, where she will be shielded and protected from interlopers, and will have plenty of leisure to sew or to mend for her own benefit. She can save money, for she will have better pay in the linen-room. She will also have better food, and will learn something of the executive management of the hotel. Naturally, she will see more of the proprietor or the manager, and will learn his ideas and principles, which knowledge may be useful to her in later years. Time brings about many changes, and hotels change proprietors, as well as housekeepers and managers. Often, when a new manager makes his appearance, he will bring his housekeeper or linen-room woman with him; in this case, the linen-room woman may have to secure another situation. Now is her chance to take a step higher on the ladder, by obtaining a position as housekeeper. INDEX. Assembly Hall, 87 Attention to Details, 34 Birds of Passage, 32-33 Character in The Hotel Business, 26 Cleaning Rooms, 41-44 Card and Wine Rooms, 88 Cleaning Brass, 85 Chambermaids, 90 Evolution of the Housekeeper, 104-105 Fires, Suggestions in case of, 98 Fire Prevention, 102 Fires, origin of, 103 Gossip between employes, 29-30 Housekeeper and the Help, 17-22 Housekeeper's salary, 38-40 Housekeeper, progressive, 35-37 Housekeeper's Rules, 81 Housekeeper, relationship between guests, 31 Housekeeper, requirements of, 11-20 Housekeeper, and co-operation, 17-22 How to Make Beds, 47-48 How to Clean Walls, 49-51 How to Scrub a Floor, 51-52 How to Get Rid of Vermin, 53-57 Linen Room, Linen Woman, 63-68 Linen, table, care of, 69-70 Linen, removing stains, 70 Linen, best kind, 71 Linen, how to test, 72 Laundry, making bleach, 73-80 Miscellaneous subjects, 94 Parlor Maid, 83-90 Proprietor's Wife, 23-25 Room Inspection, 21-28 Vacuum Cleaning System, 58-62 Waxing Ballroom Floor, 88 +-------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the | | original document have been preserved. | | | | Typographical errors corrected in the text: | | | | Page 8 succees changed to success | | Page 9 Riebold changed to Reibold | | Page 12 linen-en-room changed to linen-room | | Page 14 housekeeperes changed to housekeepers | | Page 22 ordel changed to ordeal | | Page 23 plebianism changed to plebeanism | | Page 24 benefitted changed to benefited | | Page 31 sweetner changed to sweetener | | Page 33 admireres changed to admirers | | Page 39 avereage changed to average | | Page 40 theadbare changed to threadbare | | Page 44 symmetricaly changed to symmetrically | | Page 49 woll changed to wall | | Page 49 obmtain changed to obtain | | Page 58 clening changed to cleaning | | Page 59 sytem changed to system | | Page 60 accumulationg changed to accumulating | | Page 63 line changed to linen | | Page 65 ow changed to How | | Page 67 line changed to linen | | Page 70 procees changed to process | | Page 71 presen changed to present | | Page 75 line changed to linen | | Page 75 pilow changed to pillow | | Page 85 cupidors changed to cuspidors | | Page 87 cosino changed to casino | | Page 88 Balroom changed to Ballroom | | Page 89 Binghampton changed to Binghamton | | Page 96 occasionaly changed to occasionally | | Page 99 headwas changed to headway | | Page 100 prevtn changed to prevent | | Page 102 an a floor changed to on a floor | | Page 103 Carlessness changed to Carelessness | +-------------------------------------------------+ 
35963	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration and illuminations. See 35963-h.htm or 35963-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35963/35963-h/35963-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35963/35963-h.zip) [Illustration: Very sincerely yours, Annie S. Swan.] Twenty-fourth thousand. COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE And the Gentle Art of Home-Making. by ANNIE S. SWAN (Mrs. Burnett-Smith), Author of "A Bitter Debt," "Homespun," "Aldersyde," Etc., Etc. "_Love is the incense that doth sweeten earth._" "_Be it ever so humble, There's no place like home._" London, 1894: Hutchinson & Co., 34, Paternoster Row. * * * * * * New Books By ANNIE S. SWAN. A BITTER DEBT. A TALE OF THE BLACK COUNTRY. _In large crown 8vo, handsome cloth gilt binding, with illustrations by D. Murray-Smith. Price 5s._ Thirty-second Thousand. HOMESPUN: A STUDY OF A SIMPLE FOLK. _In cloth, gilt, 1s. 6d., paper, 1s. With Illustrations._ "The language is perfect; the highest strings of humanity are touched."--_Athenæum._ "'Homespun' is excellent, a masterpiece. It is told with great skill, and quiet but genuine power. The story will long be a favourite in Scotland, and is sure to be widely read in England."--_British Weekly._ "Power and felicity are in evidence on every page."--_Glasgow Herald._ London: HUTCHINSON & Co., 34, Paternoster Row. * * * * * * TO The Loved Memory OF MY FATHER. "An honest man--the noblest work of God." [Illustration] CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. THE LOVERS 7 II. THE IDEAL WIFE 19 III. THE IDEAL HUSBAND 30 IV. THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIED LIFE 43 V. THE IDEAL HOME 56 VI. KEEPING THE HOUSE 64 VII. THE TRUEST ECONOMY 72 VIII. ON KEEPING UP APPEARANCES 80 IX. MOTHERHOOD 90 X. THE SON IN THE HOME 99 XI. THE DAUGHTER IN THE HOME 109 XII. THE EDUCATION OF OUR DAUGHTERS 117 XIII. THE SERVANT IN THE HOME 128 XIV. RELIGION IN THE HOME 136 [Illustration] COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. I. _THE LOVERS._ Of this truly gentle art we do not hear a great deal. It has no academies connected with its name, no learned body of directors or councillors, no diplomas or graduation honours; yet curiously enough it offers more enduring consequences than any other art which makes more noise in the world. Its business is the most serious business of life, fraught with the mightiest issues here and hereafter--viz., the moulding of human character and the guiding of human conduct. It is right and fitting, then, that it should demand from us some serious attention, and we may with profit consider how it can best be fostered and made competent to bless the greatest number, which, I take it, is the _ultima Thule_ of all art. To trace this gentle art from its early stages we must first consider, I think, the relation to each other before marriage of the young pair who aim at the upbuilding of a home, wherein they shall not only be happy themselves, but which, in their best moments, when the heavenly and the ideal is before them, they hope to make a centre of influence from which shall go forth means of grace and blessing to others. I do not feel that any apology is required for my desire to linger a little over that old-fashioned yet ever-new phase of life known as courting days. It is one which is oftener made a jest of than a serious study; yet such is its perennial freshness and interest for men and women, that it can never become threadbare; and though there cannot be much left that is new or original to say about it, yet a few thoughts from a woman's point of view may not be altogether unacceptable. We are constantly being told that we live in a hard, prosaic age, that romance has no place in our century, and that the rush and the fever of life have left but little time or inclination for the old-time grace and leisure with which our grandfathers and grandmothers loved, wooed, and wed. This study of human nature is my business, and it appears to me that the world is very much as it was--that Eden is still possible to those who are fit for it; and it is beyond question that love, courtship, and marriage are words to conjure with in the garden of youth, and that a love-story has yet the power to charm even sober men and women of middle age, for whom romance is mistakenly supposed to be over. Every man goes to woo in his own way, and the woman he woos is apt to think it the best way in the world; it would be superfluous for a mere outsider to criticise it. Examples might be multiplied; in the novels we read we have variety and to spare. We know the types well. Let me enumerate a few. The diffident youth, weighed down with a sense of his own unworthiness, approaching his divinity with a blush and a stammer; and in some extreme cases--these much affected by the novelists of an earlier decade--going down upon his knees; the bold wooer, who believes in storming the citadel, and is visited by no misgiving qualms; the cautious one, who counts the cost, and tries to make sure of his answer beforehand,--the only case in which I believe that a woman has a right to exercise the qualities of the coquette; then we have also the victim of extreme shyness, who would never come to the point at all without a little assistance from the other side. There are other types,--the schemer and the self-seeker, whose matrimonial ventures are only intended to advance worldly interests. We need not begin to dissect them--it would not be a profitable occupation. Well, while not seeking or attempting to lay down rules or offer any proposition as final, there are sundry large and general principles which may be touched upon to aid us in looking at this interesting subject from a sympathetic and common-sense point of view. Most people, looking back, think their own romance the most beautiful in the world, even if it sometimes lacked that dignity which the onlooker thought desirable. It is a crisis in the life of a young maiden when she becomes conscious for the first time that she is an object of special interest to a member of the opposite sex; that interest being conveyed in a thousand delicate yet unmistakable ways, which cause a strange flutter at her heart, and make her examine her own feelings to find whether there be a responsive chord. The modest, sensible, womanly girl, who is not yet extinct, in spite of sundry croakers, will know much better than anybody can tell her how to adjust her own conduct at this crisis in her life. Her own innate delicacy and niceness of perception will guide her how to act, and if the attentions be acceptable to her she will give just the right meed of encouragement, so that the course of true love may run smoothly towards consummation. Of course the usual squalls and cross currents must be looked for--else would that delightful period of life be robbed of its chief zest and charm, to say nothing of the unhappy novelist's occupation, which would undoubtedly be gone for ever. There have occasionally been discussions as to the desirability of long engagements, and there are sufficient arguments both for and against; but the best course appears to be, as in most other affairs of life, to try and strike the happy medium. Of necessity, circumstances alter cases. When the young pair have known each other for a long period of years, and there are no obstacles in the way, the long engagement is then superfluous. But in cases where an attachment arises out of a very brief acquaintance, I should think it desirable that some little time should be given for the pair to know something of each other before incurring the serious responsibility of life together. Of course it is true that you cannot thoroughly know a person till you live with him or her; yet it is surely possible to form a fair estimate of personal character before entering on that crucial ordeal, and there is no doubt that fair opportunity given for such estimate considerably reduces the matrimonial risk. That the risk is great and serious even the most giddy and thoughtless will not deny. No doubt both men and maidens are on their best behaviour during courting days; still, if a mask be worn, it must of necessity sometimes be drawn aside, and a glimpse of the real personality obtained. It is not for me to say what should or should not be the conduct of a young man during his period of probation, though of course I may be allowed my own ideas concerning it. One thing, however, is very sure, and that is, that if he truly and whole-heartedly love the woman he desires to make his wife, this pure and ennobling passion, which I believe to be a "means of grace" to every man, will arouse all that is best and purest and highest in him,--that is, if the woman be worthy his regard, and capable of exercising such an influence over him. It is possible for a man to deteriorate under the constant companionship of a light-minded, frivolous woman, who by force of her personal attractions and fascinations can keep him at her side, even against his better judgment. But only for a time: the woman who has beauty only, and does not possess those lasting qualities, stability of mind and purity of heart, will not long retain her hold upon the affections she has won. I will do men credit to believe that they desire something more in a wife than mere physical attractions, though these are by no means to be despised. I am sure every unmarried man hopes to find in the wife he may yet marry a companion and a sympathiser, who will wear the same steadfast and lovely look on grey days as well as gold. I once heard a young Scotch working man give his definition of a good wife--"A woman who will be the same to you on off-Saturday as pay Saturday." Nor was he very wide of the mark. I have no sort of hesitation in laying down a law for the guidance of young women during that halcyon time "being engaged." She knows very well, without any telling from me, that her influence is almost without limit. In these days before marriage the haunting fear of losing her is before her lover's mind, making him at once humble and pliable, and it is then that the wise, womanly girl sows the seed which will bear rich harvest in the more prosaic days of married life, when many engrossing cares are apt to wean her from the finer shading of higher things. And here I would wish to emphasise one inexorable fact, which is too often passed by or made light of. I do not set it down in a bitter or pessimistic spirit, but simply stating what men and women of larger experience know to be true: what a man will not give up for a woman before marriage, he never will after. Therefore no young girl can make a more profound mistake than to marry a man of doubtful habits in the hope of reforming him after she is his wife. The reformation must be begun, if not ended before, or the risks are perilous indeed. She will probably repent her folly in sadness and tears. And here I would protest, and solemnly, against that view, held by some women, I believe, though I hope they are few: that a man is none the worse for having been a little fast. It is a most dangerous creed, and one which has done much to lower the morals of this and other days. Let us reverse the position, and ask whether any man in his right mind will admit as much in regarding the woman he would make his wife. If it is imperative that she should be blameless and pure, let him see to it that his record also is clean--that he is fit to mate with her. And I would implore the mistaken and foolish girls who entertain an idea so false to every principle of righteousness and purity to put it from them for ever, and exact from the men to whom they give themselves so absolutely and irrevocably, a standard of purity as high as that set for them. I speak strongly on this subject because it is one on which I feel so very strongly. There is no necessity for priggishness or preaching; the womanly woman, true to the highest ideal, the ideal which God has set for her, can surround herself with that atmosphere, indescribable, undefinable, but in the presence of which impurity and lightness of speech or behaviour cannot live. I believe women are our great moral teachers--would that more of them would awaken to the stupendous greatness of their calling! Love is the most wonderful educator in the world; it opens up worlds and possibilities undreamed of to those to whom it comes, the gift of God. I am speaking of love which is worthy of the name, not of its many counterfeits. The genuine article only, based upon respect and esteem, can stand the test of time, the wear and tear of life; the love which is the wine of life, more stimulating and more heart-inspiring when the days are dark than at any other time,--the love which rises to the occasion, and which many waters cannot quench. Blessed be God that it is still as possible to us men and women of to-day as to the pair that dwelt in Eden! [Illustration] II. _THE IDEAL WIFE._ Now having brought our young pair so far on the road, we must needs go a step farther, and see what grit is in them for the plain prose of daily life; not that we admit or hint for a moment that poetry must be laid aside, only the prose may, very likely will, demand their first consideration. If the novels most eagerly read, most constantly sought after at the libraries and book-shops, are any sign of the times, we may feel very certain that marriage has caused no diminution of interest in those looking on, but rather the reverse, so we may follow them without hesitation across the threshold of their new home. And as the wife is properly supposed to be the light and centre of the home, we must first consider her position in it, and her fitness for it. It is by no means so easy to fill the position successfully as the uninitiated are apt to suppose; and I have no hesitation in saying that the first year of married life is a crucial test of a woman's disposition and character. It brings out her individuality in bold relief, shows her at her worst and best. She has to give herself so entirely and unreservedly, and in many cases to merge her individuality in that of another, that to do it with grace requires a considerable drain on her fund of unselfishness. It is even more difficult in cases where the wife has come from a home where she was idolised, and perhaps indulged a great deal more than was good for her. It seems to me that one of the most valuable qualities the new wife can take with her is unselfishness. Equipped with that, everything else will come easily. While it is true that she is required, to a certain extent, sometimes greater and sometimes less, to take a back place, she must be careful not to lose her individuality, to become merely an echo of her husband, to render herself insipid. It is a fine distinction, perhaps, but necessary to observe, because I am sure there is no man here present, married or unmarried, or anywhere else, unless a fool, who would wish to be tied for life to a nonentity. The woman who dearly loves her husband will never seek to usurp his place as head of the house; nay, she will delight to keep herself in the background if by so doing he can show to more advantage. Even if nature has endowed her with gifts more richly than her spouse, she will be careful, out of the very wealth of her love, not to make the contrast observable. It has been said that men prefer as wives women whose intelligence is not above the average; but is that not a libel on the sex? The higher the intelligence the more satisfactory the performance of the duties required of a reasonable being; and I would therefore insist that the woman of large brain power, provided she has well-balanced judgment, and a heart as expansive as her brain, will more nearly approach the ideal in matrimony than the more frivolous woman, who has no thought beyond her personal aggrandisement and adornment, and who buys her new bonnet with a kiss. The woman who looks with intelligent interest upon the large questions affecting the welfare of the world is likely to bring a more wide and loving sympathy to bear upon the concerns of more immediate moment to her, and which affect the welfare of all within the walls of her home. I am old-fashioned enough to think these latter should be her first concern, but in her large heart she may have room for many more; for when the outlook is narrow and mean, when nothing is deemed of consequence except what affects self and those circled by selfish interest, life becomes a poor thing, and human nature a stunted and miserable quality. I have known, as, I daresay, you also have known, women whose whole talk is "my home," "my husband," "my children," until one grows weary of the selfish iteration, and prays to be delivered from it. We have of late years had much amusing and perhaps, in some remote degree, profitable newspaper discussion on the subject of married life, and the respective merits of wives. On the whole, the wife, I think, has fared but badly at the hands of her critics. She is a great grievance to some, it would appear, from the minuteness with which her faults and failings have been enumerated. That she may have her uses has been somewhat grudgingly admitted; that she may in some rare instances sweeten the desert of life for her mate is not absolutely denied; but in the main she is judged to have fallen short--in a word, she is _not_ ideal. Of course such discussion and such verdict is but the froth on a passing wave; still, it serves to illustrate my contention that there is no subject on earth of more surpassing interest to men and women than this very theme we are considering. The men who have written on the subject lay great stress on a loving disposition and an amiable temper, which are indeed two most powerful factors in the scene of wedded happiness. An amiable temper is a gift of God which cannot be too highly prized, since those who have it not must be constantly at war with self. When combined with these sweet qualities is a large meed of common sense, which accepts the inevitable, even if it bring disappointment and disillusionment in its train, with a cheerful philosophy, then is the happiness of married life secured. The buffets of fortune cannot touch it--its house is builded on a rock. It is Lady Henry Somerset, I think, who has said that sentimentality has been from time immemorial the curse of woman. There is a great deal of truth in the remark. We want women to be delivered from this sickly thrall of sentimentality--which word I use as distinct from sentiment, a very different quality indeed; we desire them to take wider, healthier, sounder views of life. In fiction it is no longer considered necessary to bring one's heroine to the very verge of a decline in order to make her interesting; and nobody now has much sympathy with Thackeray's favourite Amelia, and other limp young women who are dissolved in tears on the smallest provocation, sometimes on none at all. No, we want a more robust womanhood than that, sound of body and sound of mind, in order that our homes may be happy and well regulated, our children born and reared fit for the battle of life. A well-known novelist, lecturing recently on the younger generation of fiction-writers, remarked that Robert Louis Stevenson, in ignoring woman so much in his works, had passed by the most picturesque part of human life. The contention was perfectly unimpeachable from the artistic point of view; but we aim, I trust, at being something more than picturesque. While not disdaining the high privilege of giving the romance and sweetness to life, we would desire also to be strong, capable, serviceable to our day and generation. So and so only can we hope to be the equal and the friend of man. But in this worthy aim we have to steer clear of many quicksands; we must avoid the very semblance of usurpation or imitation. Surely we are sufficiently endowed with our own gifts and graces, so powerful in their influence, that I need not enumerate or expatiate upon them here. Let us not forget that in true womanliness is our strength, and that the end of our being is to comfort and bless and love--never to usurp. What can be more melancholy than to live with a grumbler, to sit opposite a face prematurely wrinkled at the brows and down-drooped at the lips? I have in my mind's eye, as perhaps you have in yours, such a woman, tied to the best of good fellows, who, through no fault of his own, has not as yet made such headway in life as was expected of him. And his Nemesis sits at home, querulous and fretful because her establishment is more modest than her ambition, her possessions than her pretensions. Life is embittered to him; hope has died: if love follow it sadly to the bier, who can blame him? Certainly not the woman who has been a hindrance and not a help, one whose reproaches, tacit and acknowledged, have caused the iron to enter into his soul. It is such women who send men to mental and moral destruction, nor is their punishment lacking. The ideal wife, then, will sedulously cultivate the happy spirit of contentment, and make the best of everything, not seeking to add to the burden an already overworked husband may have to carry. It is not the abundance of worldly possessions which makes happiness. I can speak from personal experience, and I could tell you a story of a young pair who began life in very humble circumstances, in the face of much opposition, and who, by dint of honest, faithful, united endeavours, overcame obstacles over which Experience shook her head and called insurmountable. And the struggle being over, the memory of it is sweet beyond all telling,--the little shifts to make ends meet, the constant planning and striving, the simple pleasures won by waiting and hard work, are possessions which they would not barter for untold gold. The woman who loves and is beloved finds herself strong to bear the ills that may meet her from day to day. We have much to bear physically, and it is hard to carry always a bright spirit in a frail body; but we have our compensations, which are many. They will at once occur to every sympathetic and discerning heart, but are they not after all summed up in the eloquent words of Holy Writ, "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her;" "Her children arise and call her blessed"? And these, after all, are the heavenliest gifts for women here below, and the wise woman, so blessed, will always feel that her possessions are greater than her needs, and in her loving service, for her own first, and afterwards for all whom her blessed influence can reach, will as near as possible approach the ideal. With God, tender to Woman always, we may safely leave the rest. [Illustration] III. _THE IDEAL HUSBAND._ The duties and obligations of the husband in the house are surely not less binding than those of the wife; he has to contribute his share towards its happiness or misery. The ideal husband, from a woman's point of view, is a many-sided creature; but his outstanding characteristic must of necessity be his power to make the home of which he is the head come as near to the heavenly type as may be in this mundane sphere. However wise and wifely and absolutely conscientious in her endeavour the wife may be, she cannot unaided make the perfect home--it must be a joint concern. The pity of it is we so often see two, bound together by the closest and most indissoluble of all earthly ties, walking their separate ways, forgetful of both spirit and letter of their marriage vows. This home-making and home-keeping quality is the very wherefore of the man's existence as a husband; for his home with its shelter, adequate or inadequate, is all he has to offer in exchange for the woman who has given him herself. If she be cheated of her birthright here, she may consider herself poor indeed. There are undoubtedly very many selfish and purely self-seeking women, who starve the atmosphere about them; but as a rule the beauty of true unselfishness is oftener found adorning the female character than the male. Nobody attempts to deny this, therefore when we meet a truly unselfish man we must regard him with reverence, as a being truly great. It is without doubt a more arduous task for a man to cultivate the unselfish spirit, because the training of the race for centuries has rather tended to the fostering of selfishness in him--woman having for long been cheated of her lawful place and power in the scheme of creation. The quality most of all admired by woman in man is manliness: she can forgive almost anything but his lack of courage. The manly man, conscious of his strength, is of necessity tender and considerate towards those weaker than himself, and so wins their confidence and love. When he marries, therefore, he takes a wife to shield her from the rude blasts of the world; all that his care and tenderness can do will be done to make lighter for her the ordinary burdens of life. Nor will he expect impossibilities, nor growl because he finds he has married a very human woman, with a great many needs and wants. Angels do not mate with mortals, the contrast would be too one-sided. It is well with the man who has in his wife not only a bright companion for his days of sunshine, but who in the crises of his life finds in her heart the jewel of common sense and the pearl of a quick understanding. The wife who comprehends him at once when he says expenditure has been too heavy, that it must be reduced to meet the altered finances, and who not only comprehends, but cheerfully acquiesces, planning with him how retrenchment can best be carried out; the wife to whom the lack of the new bonnet or the new carpet is a matter of small moment,--she it is who makes glad the heart of her husband. Ay, but what kind of a husband? He must first deserve this jewel before he can expect her to display those qualities which money cannot buy, but which prevent marriage from being the failure sundry croakers would have us believe. How is he to deserve her? how win her to this most desirable height of perfection? By treating her as an entirely reasonable being, which most women are, in spite of many affirmations to the contrary. The monetary basis of the engagement matrimonial is not, unfortunately, always sound. How common it is for a man to keep his wife in utter ignorance of the state of his affairs, thus depriving her of the only safe guide she can have in the conduct of her domestic affairs! If a woman is to be a man's true helpmeet, she must stand shoulder to shoulder with him in everything, sharing as far as is possible his anxieties and his hopes, and by judicious expenditure of his means aiding him to the best position it is possible for him to attain. Of course there are poor silly creatures fit to be wife to no man, who do not deserve and could not appreciate confidence, and who are lamentably ignorant of the value of £ _s. d._ But the majority of wives, I would hope, possess sufficient common sense to comprehend the simple questions of income and expenditure when candidly placed before them. How delightful, as well as imperative, to go into a committee of ways and means periodically, talking over everything confidentially, and feeling the sweet bond of union growing closer and dearer because of the cares and worries none can escape, though love and sympathy can make them light! There is a type of husband--unfortunately rather common--who begrudges his wife, whatever her character and disposition, every penny she spends, even though it is spent primarily for his own comfort, and who has never in his life cheerfully opened out to her his purse, whatever he may have done with the thing he calls his heart. This is a very serious matter, and one which presses heavily on the hearts of many wives. It is hard for a young girl, who may in her father's house have had pocket money always to supply her simple needs, to find herself after marriage practically penniless--having to ask for every penny she requires, and often to explain minutely how and where it is to be spent. I have known a man who required an absolute account of every halfpenny spent by his wife, and who took from her change of the shilling he had given her for a cab fare. We must pray, for the credit of the sex, that there are few so lost to all gentlemanly feeling, to speak of nothing else; but it is certain that, through thoughtlessness as much as stinginess often, many sensitive women suffer keenly from this form of humiliation. It ought not to be. If a woman is worthy to be trusted with a man's honour, which is supposed to be more valuable to him than his gold, let her likewise be trusted with a little of the latter, without having to crave it and answer for it as a servant sent on an errand counts out the copper change to her master on her return. There are many little harmless trifles a woman wants, many small kindnesses she would do on the impulse of the moment, had she money in her purse; and though she may sometimes not be altogether wise, she is blessed in the doing, and nobody is the poorer. However small a man's income, there are surely a few odd shillings the wife might have for her very own, if only to gratify her harmless little whims, and to make her feel that she sometimes has a penny to spare. It is quite desirable, I think, that there should be, even where means are limited (I am not of course alluding to working people whose weekly wage is barely sufficient for family needs), some arrangement whereby the wife may have something, however small, upon which she can depend, and which she can spend when and how she pleases. Some indulgent fathers, foreseeing the possibility of their daughters feeling the lack of a little money, continue their allowance to their married daughters; but there are very few husbands, one would think, who would care to leave their wives so dependent for little luxuries it should be their privilege to supply. The labourer is surely worthy of his hire; and the wife, upon whose shoulders the domestic load presses most heavily, is as justly entitled to her payment as her housemaid, whose duties are more clearly defined. Some high-flown personages may think this a very gross view of the case, and say, perchance, that where love is there can never be any hardship felt. But I know that I touch upon what is a sore point with many women, and I can only hope that if any stingy husbands read these words they will try a little experiment on their own account, and see how the unexpected gift of a little money, offered lovingly, can bring the light back to eyes which have grown a little weary, and smooth the lines away from a brow which care has wrinkled before its time. The ideal husband we are considering will also be a home-keeping husband. Let me not here be misunderstood. No sensible woman will desire to keep her husband always at her side, nor can any woman make a more profound mistake than to try and wean the man she has married away from all his old friends and associations. I am speaking of good men, of course, whose friends and associations are such as she need not regard with apprehension. Yet it is a mistake which many women make, and it is a common saying with the bachelors who may miss a certain bright spirit from their midst, "Oh, nobody ever sees him now, he's married!" And there is a peculiar emphasis on the last word which you must hear to appreciate, but it signifies that he is as good as dead. Now why should this be? The wise wife, instead of being so small-minded and jealous, should try to remember that there is a side of man's nature which demands sympathy and contact with his own sex--and also that her husband knew and loved these old friends of his perhaps before he ever saw her. Let her try instead to make them all so welcome in her home that they will come and come again, and instead of pitying her husband because he has got his head into a noose will go away thinking him a lucky fellow. This is not an impossibility. It can be done. But while this husband of ours does not give up his old friends of his own sex, nor abjure all the manly pursuits and recreations so dear to his soul in his state of bachelorhood, he will take care that they do not absorb an undue share of his leisure, but will prefer home and wife to them all, and _let her know it_. He will not be above expressing his satisfaction when his home suddenly strikes him with more force than usual as being the sweetest place on earth; he will say so just as frankly as he finds fault when there is just cause for complaint; and she will return it by a loving interest pressed down and running over, or I am neither woman nor wife. The ideal husband, then, is no more perfect than the ideal wife; nor would she wish him to be other than he is, manly, generous, kindly-hearted, well-conditioned, and, above all things, true as steel. That he occasionally loses his temper, and does many thoughtless and stupid things, makes no difference so long as his heart is pure and tender and true. The ideal relationship betwixt husband and wife has always appeared to me to be comradeship,--a standing shoulder to shoulder, upholding each other through thick and thin, and above all keeping their inner sanctuary sacred from the world. What says one of our greatest teachers in "Romola"?--"She who willingly lifts the veil from her married life transforms it from a sanctuary into a vulgar place." These are solemn words, solemn and true. We have in these strange days too much publicity--the fierce light beats not only on the throne but on the humbler home. The craving for details relating to the private life of those who may in any degree stand out among their fellows has developed into a species of disease. Kept within due bounds this curiosity is in itself harmless, and may be to a certain extent gratified, but the privacy of domestic life cannot be too sacredly guarded; the home ought to be to tired men and women a veritable sanctuary where they can be at peace. [Illustration] IV. _THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIED LIFE._ This is the crucial period in the lives of most married people; the test which decides the wisdom or the folly of the step they have taken. Now, when the irrevocable words have been said, the vow taken for better or for worse, and the door shut upon the outside world, if any mask has been worn it is laid aside and true self revealed. To some this means disillusionment, and disappointment is inevitable, since marriage is entered on from a great variety of motives, and love is not always the first and most potent. With these, meanwhile, we do not propose to deal; their punishment is certain, since there can be no misery on earth more hopeless and more galling than the misery of a loveless marriage. But even ordinary happy and sensible people, who have married for love, and who honestly desire to make their home as far as possible an earthly paradise, cannot escape the inevitable strain of this first year of married life. To begin with, it is a trite saying that you cannot know a person until you live with him or her; and people come to years of maturity have formed habits of thought and action which may, in some cases must, clash with those of the other with whom they are brought into contact every day. Contact, too, from which it is impossible to escape. You meet in business and society many persons with whom you find it difficult to agree, whose opinions jar upon you, and who rub you the wrong way, and you find it irksome enough to meet such a person even occasionally; imagine, then, what it would be like were you placed in, or forced to endure, his or her companionship every day. Yet such is the experience of some married persons, who have rushed into matrimony without due knowledge or consideration. But leaving these extreme cases out of the question, meanwhile let us think of the test of perpetual companionship as applied to an ordinary pair who enter on married life with the ordinary prospect of happiness. During the days of courtship and engagement they, of course, saw a good deal of each other, and got to know, as they thought, every peculiarity and characteristic. Sometimes, even, they had quarrels arising out of trifles, foolish misunderstandings which caused serious heart-burnings, none of which, however, were of long duration; and the making up was invariably sweet enough to atone for the temporary misery, and help to make up the poetry of life. But the lovers' quarrel and the quarrel matrimonial are entirely different; and while the former is usually but a passing breeze, the latter is more serious, and to be avoided almost at any cost. We want fair winds always, if possible, to speed our matrimonial barque; we do not wish its timbers shaken by the whirlwind of passion. We have all our little peculiarities, excrescences of character which are apt to rub roughly against our neighbours' sensibilities, let us not, when feeling these drawbacks, forget our own. We are so apt to magnify in others, and to minimise in ourselves. It is easy to be on good behaviour with a person we only see occasionally, even every day, so long as the cares and worries of life are in the background, never obtruded, however heavily they press, because these short moments are too precious to be clouded in any way. It is easy to be unselfish for a little while; to bow, now and then, absolutely to another's will; to suffer discomfort once a week, if necessary, to make a dear one comfortable. All such little sacrifices during courting days seem but a privilege, and make up the poetry of that happy time. But the day comes sooner or later to the married pair, when the prose pages must be turned, and poetry relegated to the background, days on which the reality of life, in all its grim nakedness, seems to banish romance, and when love needs all its strength and staying power for the fight. The common-sense man or woman, of which type a few examples yet remain with us, will prepare themselves for the slight disappointments which are inevitable, when two people, regarding each other from an adoring distance, and having invested each other with many exaggerated gifts and graces, put themselves voluntarily to the test of everyday life, with all its prosaic details, its crosses and losses, its silences and its tears. It is like making a new acquaintance, having to meet each other in all situations, and in various unromantic and sometimes supremely trying conditions. Edwin pacing his chamber floor anathematising a buttonless shirt is a picture our comic journals have made familiar to us; and Angelina in her curl-papers and untidy morning gown looks a different being from the sylph in evening attire all smiles and blushes. These extreme examples serve only to illustrate my contention, that the closeness of the marriage relation carries its peril with it. To the man or woman, however, who marries for that love which is based on the qualities of both head and heart, and who knows that daily life, with its rubs and scrubs, will sometimes mar the sweetest temper and cloud the serenest brow, there cannot come any serious disillusionment. Loving each other dearly, they remember they are but human; and as perfection is not inborn in humanity, they accept each other's faults and shortcomings gracefully, not magnifying them sourly and grumblingly, but bearing with them, and rejoicing in and accepting the good. Domestic life to the young and untried housekeeper is something of an ordeal. She may have had her own place in her father's home, her own special duties to attend to, even her own share of responsibility. Still, it is an altogether different matter to have the entire care of a household, to guide all its concerns, and be responsible for the domestic comfort of all within the four walls of the house. Happy the young wife who had a wise mother, and came well-equipped from the parental home. There is no more fruitful source of the disappointment and disillusionment of which we have been speaking than incapacity on the part of the young wife to steer the domestic boat. All men like creature comforts, and are more keenly sensible perhaps than women to the advantages of a well-ordered home. We all know how women living alone are apt to neglect themselves in the matter of preparing regular and substantial meals; and how many suffer thereby. A good dinner is more to a man than it is to a woman; and, for my part, I do not see why it should be necessary to sneer at a man because he desires and can enjoy a wholesome, well-cooked meal. It is a sign of a healthy body and a sound mind, and the true housewife is never happier than when she caters successfully for the members of her household, and beholds the hearty appreciation of her labours. It is the custom in certain quarters in these days to decry this special department of woman's work, and to belittle its importance, but I am old-fashioned enough to hold that one of the most essential points of fitness for the married life in woman is her ability to keep house economically, wisely, and successfully. Nothing will ever convince me that such fitness is not one of her solemn and binding duties; in fact, it is one of the reasons of her existence as a wife. Sometimes her worries and perplexities, at first, resting entirely on her shoulders, may give to her tongue an unusually sharp edge, and she may find it a too serious effort to smile just when her spouse may think it right and fitting that she should. Out of what trifles do great issues arise! Let not the sun go down upon your wrath. My advice to the young wife when things do _not_ go well with her, when she grows hot and tired over a weary dinner, which does not turn out the success she wishes, or when she has been tried beyond all patience with her "help",--my advice is, Don't nag. Be cheerful. Swallow the pill in the kitchen at any cost, but, above all, don't nag! A man will stand almost anything but nagging. Don't save up a long string of miseries, small and big, to pour on to him the moment he puts his head in at the door. Yes, I know all about it--that the day has been long and dreary, that nothing has gone right, and you have had nobody to share it; but I want you to let the man have his dinner or his tea in peace before you relate the tale of your woes. It will make all the difference in the world to his reception of it. Try to remember that he has had a long day too, that, maybe, he has been nagged and worried in the office, or the market, or behind the counter; and that he left it with relief, hoping for a little fireside comfort at home. Let him enjoy first, at least, the meal you have prepared or superintended, then, when you both have eaten, you will be in a better mood for the discussion of the little worries which looked so big and black all day. If they have not disappeared altogether by this time they have at least sensibly decreased in size and number. Another thing I should like to impress on the young wife, and that is the absolute necessity of being as fastidious and dainty with her personal appearance after marriage as before. It is a poor compliment to a man to show that you care so little for his opinion as a husband that you can't or won't take the trouble to dress up for him. Dear girls, contemplating the final leap, I want you to understand that you can afford a great deal less to be careless after marriage than before; because you have now to keep the husband you have won. Men like what is bright and cheerful, and pleasant to behold. So far as you are concerned see that you are never an eyesore. Even if you have your own work to do, there is no necessity why you should be a dowdy or a slattern. Even a cotton dress clean and daintily made can be as becoming to you as a robe of silk and lace. It is a great deal more important for you to keep your husband's love and respect than it was to win them as a lover; because now your stake is greater--in fact, it is your all. To the husband I would say, "Be kind, be true, be appreciative always. If you have to find fault do it gently. There are two ways of doing and saying everything. Take time to choose the better, the kinder, the more helpful and encouraging." Most women are quick to respond to the slightest touch of kindness, the sunshine their more dependent natures require. See that you, having taken this young creature from the shelter of a loving parental home, do not starve her in an atmosphere of cold criticism and fault-finding. Remember that she is young, inexperienced, ignorant of many things, and that wisdom walks with years. Little things these, you say? Yes, friend, but great and far-reaching in their issues even to the wreck or salvation of a human soul. To both in the early days, "Live near to God,"--His blessing alone can consecrate the home. So will your last days be better than your first, and love be as sweet and soul-satisfying on the brink of the grave, at the close of the long pilgrimage you have made together, as in the halcyon days, "when all the world was young." [Illustration] V. _THE IDEAL HOME._ A house is not a home, although it has sometimes to pass as such. There are imposing mansions, replete with magnificence and luxury, which if realised would provide the outward trappings of many modest domiciles, but which offer shelter and nothing more to their possessors. Home is made by those who dwell within its walls, by the atmosphere they create; and if that spirit which makes humble things beautiful and gracious be absent, then there can be no home in the full and true sense of the word. While each member of the household contributes more or less to the upbuilding of the fabric, it is, of course, those at the head whose influence makes or mars. A lesser influence may be felt in a degree great enough to modify disagreeable elements, or intensify happy ones, but it cannot, save in very exceptional circumstances, set aside the influence of those at the head. It is to them, then, that our few words under this heading must be addressed; and, to reduce it to a still narrower basis, it is the woman's duty and privilege, and solemn responsibility, which make this art of home-making more interesting and important to her than any other art in the world. Her right to study it, and to make it a glorious and perfect thing, will never be for a moment questioned, even in this age of fierce rivalry and keen competition for the good things of life. In her own kingdom she may make new laws and inaugurate improvements without let or hindrance, and as a rule she will meet with more gratitude and appreciation than usually fall to the lot of law-givers and law-makers. She will also find in her own domain scope for her highest energies, and for the exercise of such originality as she may be endowed with. I do not know of any sphere with a wider scope, but of course it requires the open eye and the understanding heart to discern this fact. It seems superfluous, after the chapters preceding this, to say again that the very first principle to be learned in this art of home-making must be love. Without it the other virtues act but feebly. There may be patience, skill, tact, forbearance, but without true love the home cannot reach its perfect state. It may well be a comfortable abode, a place where creature comforts abound, and where there is much quiet peace of mind; but those who dwell in such an atmosphere the hidden sweetness of home will never touch. There will be heart-hunger and vague discontents, which puzzle and irritate, and which only the sunshine of love can dispel. Home-making, like the other arts, is with some an inborn gift,--the secret of making others happy, of conferring blessings, of scattering the sunny _largesse_ of love everywhere, is as natural to some as to breathe. Such sweet souls are to be envied, as are those whose happy lot it is to dwell with them. But, at the same time, perhaps they are not so deserving of our admiration and respect as some who, in order to confer happiness on others, themselves undergo what is to them mental and moral privation, who day by day have to keep a curb on themselves in order to crucify the "natural man." It is possible, even for some whom Nature has not endowed with her loveliest gifts, to cultivate that spirit in which is hidden the whole secret of home happiness. It is the spirit of unselfishness. No selfish man or woman has the power to make a happy home. By selfish, I mean giving prominence always to the demands and interests of self, to the detriment or exclusion of the interests and even the rights of others. It is possible, however, for a selfish person to possess a certain superficial gift of sunshine, which creates for the time being a pleasant atmosphere, which can deceive those who come casually into contact with him; but those who see him in all his moods are not deceived. They know by experience that a peaceful and endurable environment can only be secured and maintained by a constant pandering to his whims and ways. He must be studied, not at an odd time, but continuously and systematically, or woe betide the happiness of home! When this element is conspicuous in the woman who rules the household, then that household deserves our pity. A selfish woman is more selfish, if I may so put it, than a selfish man. Her tyranny is more petty and more relentless. She exercises it in those countless trifling things which, insignificant in themselves, yet possess the power to make life almost insufferable. Sometimes she is fretful and complaining, on the outlook for slights and injuries, so suspicious of those surrounding her that they feel themselves perpetually on the brink of a volcano. Or she is meek and martyred, bearing the buffets of a rude world and unkind relatives with pious resignation; or self-righteous and complacent, convinced that she and she alone knows and does the proper thing, and requiring absolutely that all within her jurisdiction should see eye to eye with her. It is no slight, insignificant domain, this kingdom of home, in which the woman reigns. In one family there are sure to be diversities of dispositions and contrasts of character most perplexing and difficult to deal with. She needs so much wisdom, patience, and tact that sometimes her heart fails her at the varied requirements she is expected to meet, and to meet both capably and cheerfully. If she has been herself trained in a well-ordered home, so much the better for her. She has her model to copy, and her opportunities before her to improve upon it. Every home is bound to bear the impress of the individuality which guides it. If it be a weak and colourless individuality, then so much the worse for the home, which must be its reflex. This fact has, I think, something solemn in it for women, and it is somewhat saddening that so many look upon the responsibilities that home-making entails without the smallest consideration. Verily fools rush in where angels fear to tread! If they think of the responsibility at all, they comfort themselves with the delusion that it is every woman's natural gift to keep house; but housekeeping and home-making are two different things, though each is dependent on the other. This thoughtlessness, which results in much needless domestic misery, is the less excusable because we hear and read so much about the inestimable value of home influences, the powerful and permanent nature of early impressions, even if we are not ourselves living examples of the same. Let us each examine our own heart and mind, and just ask ourselves how much we owe to the influences surrounding early life, and how much more vivid are the lessons and impressions of childhood compared with those of a later date. The contemplation is bound to astonish us, and if it does not awaken in us a higher sense of responsibility regarding those who are under the direct sway of our influence, then there is something amiss with our ideal of life and its purpose. [Illustration] VI. _KEEPING THE HOUSE._ Making the home and keeping the house are two different things, though closely allied. Having considered the graces of mind and heart which so largely contribute to the successful art of home-making, it is not less necessary that we now devote our attention to the more practical, and certainly not less important, quality of housekeeping. Ignorance of the prosaic details of housekeeping is the primary cause of much of the domestic worry and discomfort that exist, to say nothing of the more serious discords that may arise from such a defect in the fitness of the woman supposed to be the home-maker. For such ignorance, or lack of fitness, to use a milder term, there does not appear to me to be any excuse; it is so needless, so often wilful. Some blame careless, indifferent mothers, who do not seem to have profited by their own experience, but allow their daughters to grow up in idleness, and launch them on the sea of matrimony with a very faint idea of what is required of them in their new sphere. It is very reprehensible conduct on the part of such mothers, and if in a short time the bright sky of their daughters' happiness begins to cloud a little, they need not wonder or feel aggrieved. A man is quite justified in expecting and exacting a moderate degree of comfort at least in his own house, and if it is not forthcoming may be forgiven a complaint. He is to be pitied, but his unhappy wife much more deserves our pity, since she finds herself amid a sea of troubles, at the mercy of her servants, if she possesses them; and if moderate circumstances necessitate the performance of the bulk of household duties, then her predicament is melancholy indeed. To revert again to our Angelina and Edwin of the comic papers, we have the threadbare jokes at the expense of the new husband subjected to the ordeal of Angelina's awful cooking. At first he is forbearing and encouraging; but in the end, when no improvement is visible, the honeymoon begins to wane much more rapidly than either anticipated. Edwin becomes sulky, discontented, and complaining; Angelina tearful or indignant, as her temperament dictates, but equally and miserably helpless. The chances are that time will not improve but rather aggravate her troubles, especially if the cares of motherhood be added to those of wifehood, which she finds quite enough for her capacities. True, some women have a clever knack of adapting themselves readily to every circumstance, and pick up knowledge with amazing rapidity. If they are by nature housewifely women, they will triumph over the faults of their early training, and after sundry mistakes and a good deal of unnecessary expenditure may develop into fairly competent housewives. But it is a dangerous and trying experiment, which ought not to be made, because there is absolutely no need for it. It is the duty of every mother who has daughters entrusted to her care to begin early to train them in domestic work. That there are servants in the house need be no obstacle in the way. There are silly domestics who resent what they call the "meddling" of young ladies in the kitchen; but no wise woman will allow that to trouble her, but will take care to show her young daughters, as time and opportunity offer, every secret contained in the domestic _répertoire_. One of the primary lessons to be learned in this housekeeping art is that of method; viz.--a place for everything, and a time. It is the key to all domestic comfort. Most of us are familiar with at least one household where the genius of method is conspicuous by its absence; where regularity and punctuality are unobserved, if not unknown. The household governed by a woman without method is to be pitied. Her husband is a stranger to the comfort of a well-ordered home; and her children, if she has any, hang as they grow, as the Scotch say; while her servants, having nobody to guide them, become careless and indifferent, and so suffer injustice at her hands. It is such women who are loudest in complaints against servants, and who are in a state of perpetual warfare against the class. Of course this method must be kept within bounds, and not carried to excess, thereby becoming an evil instead of an unmixed good. We are familiar with that other type of women, who make their housekeeping an idol, at whose shrine they perpetually worship, regardless of the comfort of those under their roof-tree. With them it is a perpetual cleaning day, and woe betide the luckless offender who has the misfortune to mar, if ever so slightly, the immaculate cleanliness of that abode! He is likely to have his fault brought home to him in no measured terms. The woman possessed of the cleaning mania, who goes to bed to dream of carpet-beating and furniture polish, and who rises to carry her dreams into execution, is quite as objectionable in her way as the woman who never cleans, and for whom the word dirt has no horrors. Although it is doubtless pleasant to feel assured that no microbe-producing speck can possibly lurk in any corner of the house, and to be certain that food and everything pertaining to it is perfect so far as cleanliness is concerned, there is a sense of insecurity and unrest in the abode of the over-particular woman which often develops into positive misery and discomfort. It is the sort of discomfort specially distasteful to the male portion of mankind. Although they may be compelled to admit, when brought to bay, that "cleaning" is a necessary evil, it requires a superhuman amount of persuasion to make them see any good in it. The way women revel, or appear to revel, in the chaos of a house turned topsy-turvy is to them the darkest of all mysteries. It is long since they were compelled to treat it as a conundrum, and give it up. I think, however, that, with few exceptions, women dislike the periodical household earthquake quite as much as men, and dread its approach. The housekeeper who considers the comfort of those about her will do her utmost to rob it of its horrors. This can be done by a judicious planning, and by resort to the method of which we spoke in the last chapter. Let "One room at a time" be her motto, and then the inmates of the house will not be made to feel that they are quite in the way, and have no abiding-place on the face of the earth. This may involve a little more work, and a great deal of patience; but she will have her reward in the grateful appreciation of those for whom she makes home such a happy and restful place. [Illustration] VII. _THE TRUEST ECONOMY._ In these days many new phrases have been coined to give expression and significance to old truths; thus we hear of the "sin of cheapness," the fault attributed to those shortsighted bargain-hunters who waste time and energy and money hunting the length and breadth of the land for the cheapest market. The true and competent housekeeper knows that there is no economy in this method of marketing, but the reverse. Of course, where the family is large and the resources limited, it is absolutely incumbent on the purveyor to seek the most moderate market; and those of us who dwell in cities know that prices vary with localities, and that West-enders must pay a West-end price. But it is reprehensible always to hunt for cheap things simply because they are cheap, because we ought not to forget that this very cheapness has caused suffering, or at least deprivation, somewhere, since it would appear that some things are absolutely offered at prices under the cost of production. In the matter of food, so important a factor in the health and well-being of the family, it can seldom be a saving to buy in the cheap market, because cheapness there is too often a synonymous term with unwholesomeness; and a small quantity of the very best will undoubtedly afford more sustenance than an unlimited supply of inferior quality. In small and working-class homes the tea and tinned-food grievance is an old one, but one which does not appear to be in the way of mending. If the wives and mothers of the working-class could only have it demonstrated to them, beyond all question, that a small piece of excellent fresh beef, made into a wholesome soup flavoured with vegetables, would give three times the nourishment of this tinned stuff, which, good enough as an occasional stand-by, has become the curse and the tyrant of the lazy and thriftless housewife, what a step in the right direction that would be! The mere salting and preserving process destroys the most valuable nutritive elements of the meat; and though it may be tasty and palatable, it is practically useless as a strength-producer or strength-imparter. Milk, too, we fear has not its proper place in very many homes where children abound; though no mother of even ordinary intelligence can shut her eyes to the fact that it is Nature's own food for her children in their early years, when it is so important to build up the elements of a strong constitution. I would here put in a plea for oatmeal, in former days the backbone of my country's food, and which has of late years fallen sadly into disuse, especially in quarters where its very cheapness and absolute wholesomeness recommend it as _the_ food _par excellence_ for old and young. We have replaced it with tea and toast, to the great detriment of limb and muscle and digestive power. It is in the palace now we find oatmeal accorded its rightful place, not in the cottage; and the change is to be deplored. Regularity in meals is another thing the wise housekeeper will insist upon in her abode. Regularity and punctuality, how delightful they are, and how they ease the roll of the domestic wheels! A punctual and tidy woman makes a punctual and tidy home. We know the type who dawdles away the forenoon in idle talk or listless indolence, and rushes to prepare a hasty and only half-cooked meal when perhaps her husband or children are on their way home from school or workshop; and this is a very fruitful cause of domestic dispeace, and at the root even of much of the intemperance which has ruined so many homes. If a man has no comfort at his own fireside, then he is compelled in self-defence to seek it elsewhere. To recur to the question of buying in cheap markets, the principle that what is good and costs something to begin with will inevitably prove the cheapest in the end is even more clearly demonstrated in the matter of clothing than of food. The best will always wear and look the best, even when it has grown threadbare. Then when we hear so constantly of the appalling misery endured by men and women who make the garments sold in the cheap shops, we are bound to feel that these things are offered at a price which is the cost of flesh and blood. This is a very pressing question, and one which many Christian people do not lay to heart. There appears to be in every human breast the instinct of the bargain-hunter, and there is a placid satisfaction in having got something at an exceptionally low price which charms the finer sensibilities. To gratify this peculiar and morbid craving, witness the system of buying and selling which prevails in Italy; the shopkeepers there, with few exceptions, invariably asking double the money they are willing to accept. And to this craving in our own country is due the system of all cheap sales in the shops, and mock auctions in the sale-rooms, in which many a shortsighted person of both sexes fritter away both time and money. It is a rotten system, and shows that there is great need for reform in this matter of buying and selling, which occupies so much of our time, means, and thought. All good housekeepers know that those who buy in the ready-money market fare best; and besides, the paying out of ready-money is undoubtedly a check on expenditure, and is to be specially recommended to people of small means. It is easy and tempting to give an order, and though it can no doubt be paid for sooner or later, somehow the sum always seems to assume larger proportions as time goes on. We very seldom get in a bill for a less amount than we expect. My own view of the case is, that I grudge to pay for food after it is eaten, or clothes after they are worn; and in my own housekeeping I have found ready-money, or, at the outside, weekly accounts, the best arrangement, to which I adhere without any exceptions. Short accounts, also, give one another advantage, the choice of all markets. Thus the money is laid out to the best possible advantage, and the highest value obtained. All thrifty and far-seeing housekeepers know that it is cheaper to buy certain household stores, as sugar, butter, flour, soap, etc., in quantities, provided there is a suitable storeroom where the things will be kept in good condition. There are indeed innumerable methods whereby the good housewife can save her coppers and her shillings, and a wise woman is she who takes advantage of them to the utmost. This art of housekeeping is not learned in a day; those of us who have been engaged in it for years are constantly finding out how little we know, and how far we are, after all, from perfection. It requires a clever woman to keep house; and as I said before there is ample scope, even within the four walls of a house (a sphere which some affect to despise), for the exercise of originality, organising power, administrative ability. And to the majority of women I would fain believe it is the most interesting and satisfactory of all feminine occupations. [Illustration] VIII. _ON KEEPING UP APPEARANCES._ In these very words lurks a danger likely to beset our young couple, on the very threshold of their career. All eyes are upon them, of course; their house and all it contains, their way of life, the position they take up and maintain, are, for the time being, topics of intense concern to all who know them, and to many who do not. There is no doubt that we need to go back in some degree to the simpler way of life in vogue in the days of our grandmothers; that pretentiousness and extravagance have reached a point which is almost unendurable. We are constantly being informed by statistics which cannot be questioned that the marriage rate is decreasing; and we know that in our own circles the number of marriageable girls and marriageable youths who for some inexplicable reason _don't_ marry is very great. What _is_ the reason? Is the age of romance over? is it impossible any longer to conjure with the words love and marriage in the garden of youth? or is it that our young people are less brave and enduring, that they shrink from the added responsibility, care, and self-denial involved in the double life? My own view is that this pretentiousness and desire for display is at the bottom of it; that young people want to begin where their fathers and mothers left off, and that courage is lacking to take a step down and begin together on the lowest rung of the ladder. I have heard many young men say that they are afraid to ask girls to leave the luxury and comfort of their father's house, and to enter a plainer home, where they will have less luxury and more care; and though I grant that there are many girls who would shrink from the ordeal, and who prefer the indolent ease of single blessedness to the cares of matrimony on limited means, yet have I been tempted sometimes, looking at these young men, to wonder in my soul whether it was not _they_ who shrank from the plain home and the increased responsibility marriage involves. The salary sufficient for the comfort and mild luxury of one is scarcely elastic enough for two. It would mean giving up a good many things; it would mean fewer cigars, fewer new suits, fewer first nights at the theatre,--in fact, a general modification of luxuries which he has begun to regard as indispensable; and he asks himself, Is the game worth the candle? His answer is, No. And so he drifts out of young manhood into bachelor middle age, passing unscathed through many flirtations, becoming encrusted with selfish ideas and selfish aims, and gradually less fit for domestic life. And all the time, while he imagines he has a fine time of it, he has missed the chief joy, the highest meaning of life. The conditions of modern life are certainly harder than they were. Competition in every profession and calling is so enormous that remuneration has necessarily fallen; and it is a problem to many how single life is to be respectably maintained, let alone double. Then the invasions of women into almost every domain of man's work is somewhat serious in its consequences to men. A woman can be got to do a certain thing as quickly, correctly, and efficiently as a man; therefore the man goes to the wall. While we are glad to see the position of woman improve, and the value of her labour in the markets of the world increase, we are perplexed as to the effect of this better condition of things on the position of men. The situation is full of perplexities, strained to the utmost. There is no doubt whatever that this improvement in the position of woman, the increased opportunities afforded her of making a respectable livelihood, has had, and is having, its serious effect in the marriage market. A single woman in a good situation, the duties of which she has strength of body and strength of mind to perform, is a very independent being, and in contrast with many of her married sisters a person to be envied. She has her hours, for one thing; there is no prospect of an eight hours' day for the married woman with a family to superintend. Then she, having earned her own money, can spend it as she likes--and has to give account of it only to herself; and she is free from the physical trials and disabilities consequent upon marriage and maternity. If you tell her that the sweet fulness of married life, its multiplied joys, amply compensate for the troubles, she will shake her head and want proof. Altogether, the outlook matrimonial is not very bright. Now, while we deplore, as a serious evil, hasty, improvident, ill-considered marriages, and hold that their consequences are very sad, we would also, scarcely less seriously, deplore that over-cautiousness which is reducing the marriage rate in quarters where it ought not to be reduced,--our lower middle-class, which is the backbone of society. There is no fear of a serious reduction in other quarters: where there is no responsibility felt, there is none to shirk; and so, among the very poor, children are multiplied, and obligations increased, without any thought for the morrow, or concern for future provision. There is a very supreme kind of selfishness in this over-cautiousness which is not delightful to contemplate, the fear lest self should be inconvenienced or deprived in the very slightest degree; and all this does not tend to the highest development of human nature, but rather the reverse, since the spirit of self-denial and self-sacrifice is one of the loveliest attributes of human character. That it is possible for two people to live together almost as cheaply as one, and, if the wife be careful, thrifty, and managing, with a great deal more comfort, is hardly disputed; and surely love is yet strong enough to take its chance of falling on evil days, and when they come of making the best of them. Our girls must exhibit less frivolity, less devotion to dress and idle amusements, if they wish for homes of their own; because at present it is partly true that men are afraid to take the risk and responsibility of them as partners in life. And this brings us back to the heading of our chapter, the subject of keeping up appearances. This fearful rivalry to make the greatest show on inadequate means, to outshine our neighbours in house and dress and everything else, is really a tremendous evil, the scourge of many middle-class families. And what, after all, is its aim or outcome; what its rewards? To begin with, it is a pandering, pure and simple, to the baser part of human nature--the desire to out-rival your neighbour, to be able to soar over him at any price; and more, it is both hypocritical and immoral. Hypocritical, because it is pure pretence to a station which has no means to support it; and immoral, because you cannot afford to pay for it, and thereby suffering is entailed somewhere and somehow. How many of us number among our acquaintances (if not absolutely guilty ourselves), persons who, possessed of a small and limited income, live in a large house, the rent of which is a kind of sword of Damocles hanging over them for ever? You know them by their hunted, eager, restless look, which tells of inward dispeace, of worry too great almost to be borne. Their servants do not stay long, perhaps because the larder of the big house is kept very bare, and comfort is sacrificed to outside show. They never have anything to give away, and their excuse is that they do not believe in indiscriminate charity. And they look back with a painful longing, never expressed, however, to the days when they lived at peace in a little house, and had enough and to spare for man and beast, and a penny for the beggar at the gate. The big house is but one thing; the struggle to keep up appearances is observed in many other ways--in expensive and not always efficient education of the children, in party-giving, extravagant dress, frequent going out of town, and many others too numerous to mention. And what, after all, is the advantage of it? Is there any advantage gained? You may succeed in exciting in the breast of your neighbour a bitter envy which will probably find expression in some such remark as this--"I only hope it is all paid for." And you never will have any peace of mind, without which the outward trappings are but a mockery. Oh, let us be simpler! Let us at least not pretend to be what we are not. In a word, let us not try to humbug ourselves and the world at large. [Illustration] IX. _MOTHERHOOD._ It is a great theme, which I approach with fear and trembling; yet--is the home complete without the child? Can even an unpretentious book of this sort be written without some attempted treatment of the same? The first year of married life is often very full, as well as specially trying, a record of new and very crucial experiences such as are bound to prove the grit of our young housekeeper. She has many things to learn in her new sphere, both in the department of ethics as well as of housekeeping. She has a husband to study, for even though they have seen a great deal of each other before marriage, there yet remains much to learn of many little peculiarities before undreamed of, which in the full glare and test of daily life sometimes stand out with a certain unpleasant prominence, which both find trying. There are new tastes to discover and consider, new likes and dislikes to be studied--in a word, the situation is a severe ordeal, especially if our young wife be very young and inexperienced. Of course she has an adoring and approving love to aid her, and all her efforts to please will be appreciated at their full value, and perhaps a little over, and that is much. If in addition to all the trying amenities of her new position there be added early in her married life the prospect of motherhood, with its attendant cares, anxieties, and fears, then our young housekeeper may be granted to have hand and heart full. That it is a prospect full of joy and satisfaction, the realisation of a sweet and secret hope, nobody will deny. There are a few women, we are told, who do not desire motherhood, preferring the greater freedom and ease of childless wifehood; but it is not of such we seek to write, because the vast majority agree with me that motherhood is the crown of marriage, as well as the sweetest of all bonds between husband and wife. It is the great, almost awful, responsibility of this bond which makes thinking people deplore the prevalence of early and improvident marriage between persons who seem to lack entirely this sense of responsibility, and who undertake the most solemn duties in the same flippant mood as they go out on a day's enjoyment. The idea that they have in their power the making and marring of a human soul, to say nothing of the influences which in fulness of time must go forth from that same soul, does not trouble them, or indeed exist for them at all. They have no ideas--they never think. If the child comes, good and well--it has to be provided for; welcome or unwelcome it arrives; and is tolerated or rejoiced over as the case may be. We need a great deal of educating on this particular point, and the fact that a child may have rights before it is born is one which presses home to the heart of every man and woman who may give the matter any serious attention whatsoever. If we marry, then as surely do we undertake the possible obligations of parentage; and if we do not see that we are fit physically, mentally, and morally for this undoubtedly greatest of all human obligations, then are we blameworthy, and answerable to God and man for our shortcomings. Heroism is a word to stir the highest enthusiasm in every heart, and we Britons are not supposed to lack in that glorious quality. While not despising nor making light of that heroism which shows an unflinching front on the battlefield, or in the face of any danger, and while recognising also and glorying in that other heroism of which the world hears less, but which is nevertheless very rich and far-reaching in results--I mean that brave heart which does not sink under adverse circumstances, which makes the best of everything, which can do, dare, and suffer for others, without notice or applause--there is yet another phase of heroism of which the world knows not at all, but which in my estimation is as great, if not greater, than any of these. It is a delicate theme, and yet in such a book as this are we not justified in touching upon it, reverently and tenderly as it deserves? There are some--more, I believe, than we dream of--who, being afflicted physically or mentally, and who, fearing some hereditary moral taint for which they have to suffer, though entirely blameless, deliberately abstain from marriage for the highest of all reasons--that they fear to perpetuate in their own children the weaknesses which are already so stupendous a curse to mankind. Oh that such examples could be multiplied, and that we were once thoroughly awakened to the solemn significance of the fact that the sins of the fathers are visited on the children! But when we look around we see the innocent made to suffer daily for the guilty; we see children whose lives even in infancy are but a burden to them, and whose later life can only be a cross, and we pray for a great baptism of light on this painful subject, for a great awakening to that personal, individual responsibility which is the only solution of a difficulty which concerns the future and the highest interest of the race. To return to the question of rights as affecting the unborn babe: the mother has then so much in her power that she can not only determine to a great extent what kind of infancy the child shall have, but also whether her own duties therein shall be heavy or light. By attending strictly to her own health, adhering to natural laws, living simply and wholesomely, she can almost ensure the bodily health of the child; and by keeping her mind calm and even, avoiding worry, and cultivating cheerfulness and contentment, she thus moulds the disposition of the child to a far greater extent than she dreams of. The woman who lives in a condition of perpetual nervous excitement and worry before the birth of her child, who is fretful, complaining, impatient of the discomfort of her condition, need not be much surprised if her baby be fretful and difficult to rear. Of course this is all very easy to write down, and most difficult--in many cases of physical and nervous prostration impossible--to bear in mind; nevertheless, it is worth the trial, worth the self-denial involved, even looking at it from the most selfish standpoint, one's own ultimate comfort and ease. The gain to the child is too great to be estimated. And surely taking into consideration the enormous number of miserable, weakly babies who have never had a chance, the day of whose birth, like Job's, is sadder than the day of their death, it is not too much to ask from thoughtful Christian women, who at heart feel their responsibility and their high privilege, that nothing shall be lacking on their part to make the child given to them by God a moral, mental, and physical success. We are careful in all other departments of life to try and obtain the best--why not here? Is human life less precious, human souls of less account, than merchandise? I do not see why mothers should not seek to impress upon their daughters, and fathers upon their sons, as they approach maturity, the solemnity and sacredness of such themes, which involve all that is most important in human life. I consider that the ignorance with which so many young girls are allowed to enter matrimony is nothing short of criminal; and I do not myself see that a plain, straight, loving talk from her mother beforehand, which will prepare her for her new obligations and make them less a surprise and a trial when they come, can possibly take the edge off that exquisite and delicate purity which we would wish to be our daughters' outstanding characteristic, and which every right-thinking man desires in his wife. There are many who do not share this opinion, and hold that the wall of reserve should never be broken. But the issues are great, and I cannot but think that in this case ignorance is more likely to be fruitful of anxiety and foreboding, to say nothing of mistakes, than is a little knowledge wisely imparted by those whom experience has taught. [Illustration] X. _THE SON IN THE HOME._ The son is peculiarly the mother's child, and the bond between them, seen at its best, is one of the loveliest, and, to the woman who has suffered for her firstborn, one of the most soul-satisfying on earth. I suppose most women given choice would wish their firstborn to be a son; and her pride in the boy as he grows in grace and strength and manliness is a very exquisite thing in the mother. As a rule, a boy is more difficult to rear. He has more strength of limb and will, and shows earlier, perhaps, the desire to be master of the whole situation, as very often he is. It is amazing at how early an age a child can begin to discern between the firm will and the weak will of those who guide him, and to profit thereby; and she is a wise woman who begins as she means to end, and who teaches her child that her decision is absolute from the earliest stage. The moment he begins to understand that though you say no a yell will probably convert it into a yes, your occupation is gone, so to speak--you have lost your hold, and Baby is master of the situation and of you. There is no doubt, I think, that the woman who has a nurse to relieve her of the child has a better chance than the one who has to fight the battle single-handed--for this reason, that extreme weariness of body, which nothing brings about more quickly than the perpetual care of a baby, is apt to weaken the will; the desire for peace at any price becomes too great to be resisted, and so the citadel is lost. It is impossible also for the ordinary woman, who has the care of a baby all day long, in addition to a multitude of other duties, not to become nervous, irritable, and excitable, and the probability is that the child becomes a reflex of herself. I know of no more self-denying and harassing life than that of the mother of many children, whose limited means prohibit much assistance in her labours. It would require the strength of a Hercules and the patience of a Job. Yet how many go on from day to day with an uncomplaining and heroic cheerfulness which does not strike the onlooker, simply because it is so common, like the toothache, that it attracts but little sympathy or attention. In one day such a mother may win moral victories beside which the brilliant engagements of the battlefield would pale. It is not one that she has to consider and contend with, but many; the diversity of disposition in one family is truly amazing, and affords a most interesting psychological study. If she be a thoughtful and conscientious woman she knows that she is sowing the seeds of future good and ill, that early impressions are never erased, and that her own influence is the one which will leave the strongest, the most indelible mark on the future of the little ones she has under her wing. To this there is no exception whatever; it is a fact nobody attempts to dispute. Who shall say, then--who shall dare to say--that a woman's work is slight, her sphere narrow, her influence feeble? Have we not yet with us the proverb, "She who rocks the cradle rules the world"? as true to-day as it was a hundred years ago, as it will be in a hundred years to come. But though the anxieties and responsibilities of the nursery are great, they increase, especially in the case of some, as the years go by; though as the boy grows older his mother may be somewhat relieved by the wise guidance of the father. There comes a time when the lad wants to emancipate himself from his mother's jurisdiction, and begins to look to his father, seeing in him the image of what he may yet become. He will not love his mother any less, but he will be impatient a little, perhaps, of her careful supervision; he wants to be a man, to imitate his father, to show that he is a being of another order. It is always amusing to look on at this subtle and inevitable change, but sometimes touching as well. It is the strong soul seeking his heritage, the first stirring of manhood in the boy, who will never be other than a bairn to his mother. Happy then the mother, blessed the boy, who has a good, wise, and tender father to take him by the hand, and show him at this critical stage the beauty of a noble, pure, and honest manhood, and how great is its power to bless the world. There are some men who never grow old, who, while doing a man's part better than most in the world, keep the child-heart pure within them. Happy are the children who call them father! The ideal father (since we are writing of what we all know to be the highest in home relationship, we may call him so) will be a boy in the midst of his boys all his days; he will share the pastimes, the interests, the absorbing occupations of his boys, in the schoolroom and the recreation-ground, just as he did not disdain to join sometimes in the frolic of the nursery. He will understand cricket and football, and hounds and hares, and know all the little points of schoolboy honour, so that he may at once grasp the situation when his lad brings his grievance or his tale of victory to him. And through it all, without preaching, which the soul of the average boy abhors, he will seek to inculcate the highest moral lessons, thus accentuating and deepening the teaching of the nursery still fresh in the boy's mind. This is the ideal which we would wish to see in every home, but the real is rather different, and sometimes perplexing to deal with. We have seen homes where the boys do not "get on" with their father, who seem to rub each other the wrong way, and to have no sort of kinship with each other--in a word, who are not chums, which is a boy's definition of the jolliest possible relationship, and which is very beautiful existing between father and son. But there are fathers who have no patience with the boy who, feeling in him the promptings of a larger life, begins to give himself little airs, and to adopt a manly and masterful manner; no sympathy with his desire for freedom; and who, instead of wisely guiding all these accompaniments of young manhood into fresh and legitimate channels, seeks to curb them, to restrain every impulse, and to enforce an authority the boy does not understand, and inwardly, if not outwardly, kicks against. I know many mothers who have difficulty in pouring oil on such troubled waters, and who see that the father and the boy do not understand each other, and cannot get on--and she is powerless to help. Out of this strained relationship many evils may arise. The young heart, bounding with a thousand buoyant impulses, eager to see life and taste its every cup, deprived of sympathy and outlet, and thrown back upon itself, becomes reserved, self-contained, and morbid. Then, again, there is a temptation to concealment, and even to prevarication, over mere trifles. When censure is feared--and the young heart is fearfully sensitive--little fibs are told to escape it, and so a great moral wrong is inflicted, which can undoubtedly be laid at the unsympathetic parent's door. The mother, by reason of her gentler nature (to which, of course, there are the usual exceptions), is not so feared, and is made the go-between. "Mother, will _you_ ask father for so-and-so?" is an everyday question in many homes; and why should it be? Why should sympathy and confidence be less full and sweet between father and son than between mother and son? Nay, rather, it might be fuller, since the father, being of the same sex, can the better understand the boy nature, making allowance for its failings, which were also his, if, indeed, they are not in an aggravated form still characteristic of him. Some men forget that they have ever been young; looking at them and witnessing their conduct in certain circumstances, one finds it difficult to believe that they ever _were_ young. They have been fossils from their birth. That is the grand mistake--to fix such a great gulf betwixt youth and maturity that nothing can bridge it. It is more love, more sympathy we want; it is the dearth of it that is the curse of the world. Yet how dare we, being responsible for the advent of the child into the world, deny him his heritage, starve his heart of its right to our affection and regard? The Lord sent him? Well, He did undoubtedly, and His commands with the gift. There is no hesitation or ambiguity about the Lord's mandate regarding little children. In homes where this lovely sympathy exists, anxiety regarding the moral welfare of the boy is reduced to a minimum. Where the youth can come to his mother, and still better to his father, in every dilemma, sure of advice and aid, he will not go very far wrong. The world is full of pitfalls, and it is sure nothing short of the grace of God can keep young manhood in the right way; but very certain am I that parents have much, ay, more than they dream of in their power. Let them at least see to it that they do not fall short. Let the boy feel that the home is his, that his friends are welcome to it, and that he need not go out always to seek liberty and enjoyment. In one word, let him have room to breathe and to live, and the chances are that he will repay you by becoming all you could desire even in your fondest dreams. [Illustration] XI. _THE DAUGHTER IN THE HOME._ The home is incomplete without the daughter, the sweet little baby who from the first entwined herself about her parents' hearts; and who, as she grows in beauty, is a source of constant joy and pride, not quite untouched by anxiety. For when we have educated our sons and done for them all we possibly can, they can, as a rule, stand on their own sturdy legs, and take their own place in the world, we looking on with pride if they adorn it well--with sadness if they fall short. We do not love them less, but they sooner place themselves beyond our jurisdiction, and responsibility concerning them is sooner at an end. With the daughters it is different. As the old rhyme says-- "A son is a son till he gets him a wife, A daughter's a daughter to the end of her life," words which just express the whole situation. Even after she marries our anxiety and loving concern for her in her new sphere quite equals the old; her little children, reminding us of what she was once to us, are dear to us in a way our son's children can never be. It seems a strange anomaly, yet will most mothers bear me out in what I say. A home where there are many boys and no girls is a jolly, healthy, happy household enough, but it lacks something, a gentler element, which the boys miss keenly, though they may not even be conscious of it. It is a great misfortune for boys to have no sisters, because in the family circle, where they grow up side by side, they acquire a knowledge of girl-nature which is invaluable to them when they begin to take an interest in that interesting personage, "another fellow's sister." And _vice versâ_--girls brought up in a brotherless home have no opportunity of studying boy-nature, and are apt to take a very prim, narrow view of the same. The ideal family is the one judiciously mixed, where boys and girls rub shoulders and carry on their little campaigns, entering into each other's pursuits and being chums all round. It is good for both. As I said before, girls, even in infancy, are more easily managed and reared than boys, the usual exceptions being allowed; and the same may be said of them as they grow older. They are more docile, more amenable to control, and their animal spirits, dependent on bodily organisation, are not usually so obstreperous. It is astonishing how soon a little girl becomes a companionable creature; she develops at a much earlier age than her brothers. Of course there are great differences. We have the tomboy, never still, more interested in her brothers' pranks than in the sober frolics of girls--dolls have no charm for her; yet the curious thing is that the tomboy has been known to develop into the extraordinarily successful wife and mother, her very energies of mind and body, when mellowed by experience, proving invaluable to her in her new sphere. I have often thought that an interesting article might be written on the place and power of dolls in the early life of women; it is such an interesting study to watch the different grades of interest taken in them by different children. To some they are real flesh and blood, treated as such, fondled over and considered quite as much as any living baby, invested with aches and pains, tempers and troubles, and subjected to a regular system of reward and punishment; while to others they are mere toys, which serve only to beguile the tedium of a rainy day. Then there are the few who regard them as mere objects for scorn and hatred; and when they do not ignore them, maltreat them mercilessly. The small girl who hates dolls, and dubs them as stupid things, is apt to be a little troublesome to amuse, though it is also quite possible that she may possess a very original mind, which strikes out a new path even in amusement for itself. Some little boys who afterwards became good and noble men have not disdained dolls as a baby amusement, and you generally find that the small boy who takes a kind interest in his sister's dolls, and who does not spend his leisure in concocting schemes for their torture and dismemberment, has the fatherly instinct very strongly developed, and will in his own home be tenderly devoted to his children. Boys ought to be taught early the beauty of little kindly attentions and thoughtfulness for others. On no account ought their sisters to be allowed to fetch and carry for them. There may be a system of mutual obligation if you like, but boys of a certain age are apt to become very arbitrary, and to consider their sisters in the light of body servants. By allowing boys to order their sisters about, to bring them things and give in always, you foster a spirit of selfishness, which grows tyrannical as the years go by, and paves the way for some domestic discomfort in a future home which will be beyond your jurisdiction. They tell us the age of chivalry is dead; and really manners do not seem to be as they were. The changed order of things concerning women, who are no longer cooped up within the four walls of a house, and told that that is their sphere spelled with a very big S, but who are pushing their way steadily to the front in every walk of life, no doubt partly accounts for this; still the lapse of that old-fashioned and gracious courtesy of men to women is to be deplored, and I cannot but think that we who have raw material to work upon in the nursery might do something to restore it. We cannot afford to lose any of the graces of life. Heaven knows things are reduced to a prosaic enough level with us in these days, when the fret and fever seem to leave time for nothing but the barest realities. As we have already admitted that early impressions and early training never quite lose their hold, so if we teach our boys to be gracious, courteous, considerate always to their sisters because they are little women, some women of a later date will be grateful to us. The very advanced of our sex have been known to disclaim any desire for such consideration; they want none from the opposite sex, but only room to fight the battle side by side; but we who do not wish to see life robbed of all its grace and courtliness would respectfully insist that this reserve should not be entirely dispensed with. We still like a man to take off his hat to us in the street, instead of jerking his head on one side; we have no objection to the inside of the pavement or the most comfortable seat in carriage or tram, for which we have still a word of appreciative thanks left, though we may thereby show how far we are left behind in the race. I wish to make myself very clear. We do not want our girls to be namby-pamby, selfish, silly creatures, who imagine it is interesting and fascinating to pose as weak, dependent, fluttering creatures; but neither do we want our sons to be boors, and it is in the home where manners as well as morals are formed. So let us not despise the little courtesies which do so much to sweeten daily intercourse, but teach them to the children from the beginning, so that to be chivalrous, courteous, gentle to rich and poor, gentle and simple of both sexes, will become as natural for them as to breathe. [Illustration] XII. _THE EDUCATION OF OUR DAUGHTERS._ Even a very young daughter can be of use to her mother, and her influence felt in the house, if she is taught how. Of course, the first concern, when our little maid gets out of the nursery, is that she should be educated, and her mental powers have the best possible chance of being brought to their full power. The education of our girls is one of the great questions of the day--engrossing the interest of those in the highest places; and a healthy sign of the times it is. For since it is upon the women of to-day that the future of the race depends, what could be of greater importance than that all her powers, physical, mental, and moral, should be brought as near perfection as possible? Do I of a set purpose mention the physical first? Yes; because the older I grow the more it comes home to me that unless we have sound and healthy bodies we can but poorly serve our day and generation. Therefore the food the children eat should be one of our chief studies and concerns; because if we can send them out into the world with constitutions built upon a sure and common-sense foundation, it is the best possible service we can render them; and one for which they and theirs will be grateful always. This question of education is rather a perplexing one, which gives parents a great deal of anxious thought. The present system is undoubtedly a great improvement upon any we have had heretofore, and yet it seems to leave something to be desired. In the board schools, where the bulk of the lower middle-class children are educated, and where tuition is very excellent and thorough, there is yet this drawback,--all are sought to be raised to one dead level, the passing of so many standards being imperative, nor any consideration given to individual capacity or fitness. The inevitable result of this is that the teacher is bound to concentrate his attention on the dull pupils, in order to get them dragged up to the required standard, the bright ones being left pretty much to their own devices. However much he may deplore this, he cannot help himself, since it is upon his percentage of passes that his status as a teacher, to say nothing of his salary, depends. Therefore in some respects the old system of parochial teaching had its advantage over the new. But it is very specially of the education of the girls we wish to speak, and it is gratifying to observe that many parents are awaking to the absurdity of insisting that their daughters shall acquire a superficial knowledge of certain accomplishments, whatever the bent of their minds. How much money, to say nothing of precious time, has been sacrificed in the vain pursuit of music, that sweetest of the arts; which is so often desecrated and tortured by unwilling and unsympathetic votaries. It very soon becomes evident whether the child has an aptitude for music or not; and if she has not, but finds the study of it an imposition and a trial, what is the use of forcing her to such unwilling drudgery, when very likely she possesses some other aptitude, the cultivation of which will be both profitable and pleasant? How many girls upon whom pounds and pounds have been spent never touch the piano when they are emancipated from schoolroom control; and how much more usefully could both time and money have been employed in the pursuit of something else! Mothers are beginning to see this, and it is a welcome awakening. So long as our young maiden is occupied with school and lessons, she has not time to learn much else, since it is imperative that she has recreation likewise; it is when she leaves school that the wise mother, having an eye to the future, will at once seek to initiate her into the mysteries of housekeeping. True, she may never have a home of her own; she may be one of those called to labour, perhaps, in the very forefront of the working women outside; but all the same she ought not to be ignorant of what used to be considered the chief, if not the only occupation for women,--she ought to be fit to keep house on the shortest notice. It is a woman's heritage. Whatever she may or may not know, I hold that she ought to acquire a certain amount of domestic knowledge, whether she uses it or not. Most young girls are interested in domestic affairs, and are never happier than when allowed to have their finger in the domestic pie; but in this as in other things a thorough grounding is the most satisfactory. It is astonishing what undreamed-of qualities a sense of responsibility awakens in a young soul; how the very idea that something depends on her, that she is being trusted, puts our little maid upon her mettle. Therefore it is a good plan to leave to a young daughter some particular duty or duties for which she is entirely responsible. This may of course be a very slight thing to begin with--the dusting of a room, or the arrangement of flowers or books, or the superintendence of the tea-table; but whatever it is, the mother should insist that it be done regularly and at the appointed time. Thus will she teach her child punctuality and a primary lesson in a method, which is the key to all perfect housekeeping. Of course it is a little trouble to the mother to superintend the performance of such little duties, but she will have her reward in the daily increasing helpfulness of the daughter in the home. Most young girls, if skilfully dealt with, speedily learn to take a special pride in their own little duties, especially if their efforts be met with appreciation. Never snub a child; the young heart is very sensitive, and takes a long time to forget. Little changes in the domestic routine will be introduced by the wise mother, in order that the work may not become irksome. Where there are several daughters, it is a good plan for them to exchange their particular duties for a time. Thus, one may assist with the cooking for a week, then change with her sister who has the care and arrangement of the drawing-room or sitting-room, or with the one who helps with the mending. So the daily round would never become monotonous, and by gradual and pleasant degrees a knowledge of the whole system of housekeeping is acquired, which will be simply invaluable to her, whatever her future may be. If the family circumstances demand that she shall go out into the world to earn her living by teaching or typewriting or shopkeeping, the wise mother will not for this reason relax her desire and effort to teach her the art and mystery of housekeeping. True, while she is occupied outside she has little opportunity to learn it, but "where there's a will there's a way"; and though it may not appear at present of much practical value to her, yet she may marry, or have to go to single housekeeping, when the home is no longer open to her. I again insist that it is every woman's duty to know, or to acquire some practical knowledge of housekeeping, so that she may be ready for any emergency. Her fitness for it will be a perpetual source of satisfaction to her, for there is nothing more self-satisfying than to feel that one is capable; it gives confidence, strength, and self-reliance. One of the very necessary lessons to be taught a young girl is the value of money. The sooner she learns what equivalent in household necessaries money can procure the better. The day may come when the tired mother will be glad to be relieved even of the responsibility of spending, and when, thanks to her own wisdom and foresight, she can place the family purse in younger hands, knowing that the contents will not be recklessly or extravagantly spent. Let our young maiden feel that she is entirely trusted, and that a great deal is expected of her, then will she display qualities undreamed-of. She will be eager to show what she can do; and when the word of encouragement and appreciation is not lacking she will be proud and happy indeed. Of course there are perverse natures, of whom one is tempted at times to despair--irresponsible young persons who would make wild havoc in any establishment left to their care; but I am speaking of the average young girl, who may be expected to be thoughtless and forgetful often, as is the way of youth, but who nevertheless has the makings of a fine, gentle-hearted, noble woman in her. "What shall we do with our daughters?" is one of the great questions of the day. Formerly marriage was their only destiny; if they missed that, they were supposed to have missed all that was worth the winning here. But that old fallacy is exploded. While still holding that in happy marriage is to be found the fullest and most soul-satisfying life for women, no open-eyed person will deny that a single, independent, and self-respecting life is far preferable to the miserable, starved, inadequate wifehood to which many women are bound. Having dealt in a former chapter with the question of matrimony, I must here avoid repetition, but in connection with this subject of our daughters we must touch upon it once again. The wise mother will rear her daughters to be independent, self-respecting, and, if possible, self-supporting; not hiding from them that she considers a real marriage (not the mockery of it so often seen) the highest destiny for them, but at the same time impressing on them that there are other spheres in which women may be as happy and comfortable, and where they will certainly have less anxiety and care. The woman who trains her daughters in the belief that marriage is their only end and aim, the very _raison d'être_ of their being, is a mistaken, despicable creature, and in all probability her daughters will take after her. If they do not marry, then what is to become of our daughters? Of late years their path of life has opened up more widely and clearly, and though the avocations open to women are very crowded there is still room for the best equipped. That is the secret,--to bring to the market the highest value only, to render oneself as efficient as nature and circumstances permit. I would have our girls fully comprehend that in this age of unprecedented strain and stress there is absolutely no room for mediocrity, and that they cannot afford to be anything but the most efficient workers in whatever department they have made their own. There is still room for the best, and persevering, conscientious labour, worth the highest market value, sooner or later meets its due appreciation and reward. [Illustration] XIII. _THE SERVANT IN THE HOME._ Any little book attempting to treat of home-life must necessarily be incomplete without some reference to the place and power of the servant therein. We housekeepers all know that this servant question is just as pressing as any upon which we have yet touched, and it is one that is with us every day. We cannot rid ourselves of it, even if we would, because it involves so much of our domestic comfort and happiness. We of modern days are filled with a vague envy when we read of such treasures as Caleb Balderstone, Bell of the Manse, and various other types of a class now, we fear, extinct--the faithful servitor, who lived in the service of one house for generations and desired to die in it. Perhaps such types had their drawbacks likewise, and sometimes presumed past endurance, doing what seemed good in their own eyes, and that alone. But all that could be forgiven, because, weighed in the balance with a lifelong devotion and loyalty and love, they were as nothing. A few Calebs and Bells undoubtedly still exist, but the bulk of modern housekeepers know them not, and regard them as pleasant creatures of fiction, impossible to real life. Are servants really less efficient, less conscientious, less diligent than they were? Or is it that we expect and exact more? Modern life has undergone such a tremendous change, there have been so many upheavals in relative positions, that we are inclined to think domestic service is now regarded from a very different standpoint than it was fifty, or even twenty, years ago. It is no longer regarded as honourable; those who enter it seem to do so under protest, the result being a most unsatisfactory relation within doors. Some blame education for this; and yet it seems hard to believe that education, the pioneer of progress everywhere and in all ages, should be responsible for such a distorted view. Some will tell us that this very dissatisfaction is a sign of the times, indicating the march of progress towards the time when all men shall be equal, and no more lines of demarcation shall be drawn. Never were wages higher; never, I am very sure, were domestic servants treated with more consideration and respect; and yet the fact remains that girls prefer almost any other occupation to it. They will stand for hours behind a counter, suffering untold tortures from exhaustion and insufficient food, content to receive a mere pittance, and subjected to a system of espionage and bullying far harder to bear than anything found in domestic service; and they will give you as their reasons, in general, these: It is more genteel, they have their evenings and their Sundays free, and they are not required to wear the livery of cap and apron. These are the reasons, then; what are we to make of them? Can we make domestic service more genteel; give evenings and Sundays free; and are we willing to dispense with the badge distinguishing maid from mistress? These are the questions we have before us, waiting an answer; in that answer perhaps may be found the solution of the whole stupendous difficulty. I write under one disadvantage. I have never been a domestic servant, and I cannot therefore look at the situation from that particular standpoint; but I have had for some years servants under my roof, and I have my own experiences of these years to guide me from the mistress's point of view. During these years I can truthfully say that I have most conscientiously, kindly, and systematically done my best to make them happy; that I have considered them very often at the expense of my own comfort; and though I have had no startling experiences whatsoever, I am bound to admit that the result on the whole is not particularly encouraging. I have seldom found that corresponding consideration, that devotion to my concerns, that warm personal interest, which make one feel that one has friends in the household. I have had my pound of flesh, nothing more; they have done the work for which they have been paid, sometimes well, but often carelessly; and that is all. When it came to a question of personal consideration, of caring for my substance, looking after my interests as I have honestly tried to look after theirs, I have been disappointed, and now I expect no more, thankful if I have average comfort, and do not have my nerves and temper tried a hundred times a day. This I suppose is the experience of two-thirds of the women who may read this book. Nobody feels more keenly than I do the monotonous drudgery of a servant's life. Day in, day out, the same weary round; and while the same may be said of all workers, in whatsoever estate they may find themselves, yet is the lot of the domestic servant notoriously a dull routine. I often wonder, indeed, that without that element of personal interest which is the only thing to make the multitudinous and weary round of household duties sweet, or in any way tolerable, she should do it half so well; but, on the other hand, when one thinks of her absolute freedom from care, sordid or otherwise, a feeling of impatience is bound to arise. "All found" is a comprehensive phrase, and it is those who have to "find" it who have the care, the thought, the anxious planning. How, then, can we establish a better understanding between mistress and maid, how lift this question to its highest platform, and render the service one which will be honoured and sought after, instead of despised, and entered on under compulsion, or as a last resource? I confess, for once, I am baffled completely, and beyond redemption. I have thought of it long and earnestly, have done my best with my own opportunities, and I have no glorified results to offer. I am as others, worried and often weary, and grateful for every small mercy that comes in my way. It seems to me that we want to enlarge our own minds and the minds of those we take into our employ; we need a wider vision, which shall lift us clean above mere petty and selfish concerns. That is a baptism we all need. When shall it descend? I am forced to this conclusion--that it is this question of all others that is absolutely dependent on the grace of God. We must have the true spirit of Christianity in our kitchens and in our drawing-rooms,--that spirit whose gracious teaching is never ambiguous or difficult to understand; in a word, there is nothing but the Sermon on the Mount will do us any good. Of human preaching, teaching, and writing we have enough and to spare--it does not appear to go home, or to bear any practical fruit. We can only pray that He, whose great heart is open now as it was then to every human need, will help us to realise our responsibility to each other, will give us new lessons in the law of love, and show us that service is the highest form of praise, and that nothing is really small or mean or despicable, except sin and the littleness of human aims. All work is honourable, nay, it is the highest calling on earth. It can only be dishonoured in the doing. If each one, master and man, mistress and maid, could adopt this attitude towards their daily duty to the world and to each other, there would be found the solution of the problem vexing the souls of so many at the present day. [Illustration] XIV. _RELIGION IN THE HOME._ Perhaps this chapter might more appropriately have been placed at the beginning of the book than at the end, seeing we have in it the root of the whole matter, the key to all happiness, fitness, comfort, and peace. Religion is a word much misunderstood, yet it is given to us in the Epistle of St. James in the clearest, most intelligible language,--"Pure religion and undefiled is to visit the widows and the fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." It always seems to me that the former part of the injunction is easier than the latter. There is so much in the world with which we must combat, so much that, though we can avoid in one sense, comes so very near to us, that it is well-nigh impossible to keep ourselves unspotted. But though there is a great deal of evil around us, we must not be such cowards as to shrink from facing it, and shut ourselves up in selfish safety, lest it should come near us at all. This is not what the Apostle means, for it is possible to be in the world and yet not of it, it is written too that "to the pure all things are pure." What we have to do is to see that in our inmost thoughts we are pure, not giving lodgment in our mind to any unholy thing which if revealed would bring the blush of shame to our cheek. But in the high standard of personal purity, which we may rightly set up for ourselves, let us not be too arrogant, or forgetful that such as fall away from purity may have been subjected to such terrible temptations as we know nothing of. Let us cultivate more of that Divine compassion towards them which Christ showed of old towards the Magdalene. It is in matters of such immediate and personal interest that the spirit of the religion we profess is to be exhibited,--in a word, we must consecrate all to the high service God requires of us, honouring us in the requirement. We are placed in this world to be happy and useful; and though we are reminded many times by personal sorrows and bereavements that we have no continuing city here, yet the knowledge need not make us gloomy, or restless, or dissatisfied. In this lovely world, so full of beauty and variety, we are bidden to rejoice; it is for our enjoyment and our use, there is no stint or condition attached to our citizenship of God's earth. Nature is mother to all, and has a message for the meanest and most tried of her children; and it is a message of divinest love. Through Nature, His handmaid, God speaks to us, giving us in the dawn of each new day, in the return of each season, in the shining of the sun and the blessing of the rain, grand and practical lessons in faith, fulfilment of promises which should mean a great deal to us, and teach us more and more to trust Him in all and through all. While we are in the world we have a duty to it, and those who neglect or think lightly of the practical and commonplace requirements of daily life are in the wrong. What is needed is a deepened sense of responsibility concerning the charge God has given us to keep for Him, in the house, the workshop, or the busy mart of life. It is with the home we have presently to deal; and it is in the home, I think, we need certainly, in as great a degree as elsewhere, all the aid and stimulus religion can give. It teaches us to make the very best of all our circumstances, adverse or pleasant; and aids us to the performance of all duties, however monotonous or irksome in themselves. It is not ours to inquire whether these duties are just what we would desire or choose for ourselves, had choice remained with us. Religion does not consist in the performance of religious ordinances, in conscientious reading of the Word or the utterance of its formal prayers; these are its attributes, its natural outcome, not by any means the thing itself. Religion is, I take it, to be a principle, a powerful guiding motive to direct us in the ordinary affairs of life, and its mainspring is love. Love for whom? For the Lord Jesus. And if we love Him, and truly desire to serve Him, it will be no difficulty for us, but a natural and exquisite result, that we love one another. Even the enemies of Christ, who deny His divinity, admit the beauty and perfectness of His character, and the unselfishness and holiness of His earthly life. Since these three-and-thirty years He walked with men many new Christs have risen, many new creeds and dogmas been offered for the world's acceptance; but all have passed away, disappeared into nothingness, and Christ remains, the mainstay and salvation of human souls. His teaching is still the very best we can obtain for our guidance here. Take the Sermon on the Mount, for instance. How perfect it is, how comprehensive, how full of little things, and yet how wide-reaching in its limit! There is nothing forgotten; nearly nineteen hundred years old, and yet it is adapted for every need of the human soul. If we could get the spirit of that blessed teaching more firmly planted in our hearts, we could make the world a happier place for ourselves and others. We are all fond of laying plans for the future; and there are few of us who do not at least once a year review the past, and make new resolves for the future. Some of us are constantly taking retrospects, and sometimes feel hopeless. We seem to be making so little progress in that higher life which we desire, and strive after in some degree. In a twofold sense this looking back may be made profitable to us. It must always, unless we are very hard of heart, make us grateful for past mercies; and when we consider how wonderfully and tenderly we have been led through difficulties and trials, or dangers, or guided through the more perilous waters of prosperity and success, it will give us greater heart to go forward to whatever may lie before us. When we look back on lost opportunities, it must make us more watchful of those present with us, and help us to give to each new day as it comes something upon which we shall afterwards look back without regret. The older I grow the more strongly do I feel that religion is a matter of daily living--of practice, not precept; and that unless the Spirit of Christ animate us in all our relations one to the other we name His name in vain. And what a lovely spirit it was, unsullied by any trace of selfishness, gentle, forbearing, long-suffering, just to the last degree! It is this spirit alone that can sanctify and bless the home, and raise all common life out of a sordid groove; that can make homely things beautiful, and hard things, of which so many meet us on life's road, easier to bear. Oh that we had a larger baptism of it; that we who so long and strive for it could have it always with us! Human nature is so perverse, and self so strong. Yet, even in its weakest efforts, this earnest desire to live the religion Christ has taught us will not go unblessed, but will make its little lesson felt wherever it is found. Because it makes us more self-denying, more charitable, more forbearing in every relation of life, it will make others inquire concerning the hope that is in us. "In hidden and unnoticed ways; In household work, on common days," we may do the Master's work, and make our homes altars to His glory. We want less talk and more action, less precept and more example, which though reticent of speech is yet eloquent in testimony for good or for evil. So, whatever be our lot or circumstances, whatever our joys and sorrows, our losses or crosses, we may with confidence look ahead, and our great compensation will not be lacking--"She hath done what she could"; and again, "Well done, good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury. 
36498	----	BULLETIN No. 156 Home Economics Series No. 13 THE TEACHING OF ART RELATED TO THE HOME SUGGESTIONS FOR CONTENT AND METHOD IN RELATED ART INSTRUCTION IN THE VOCATIONAL PROGRAM IN HOME ECONOMICS JUNE, 1931 Issued by the Federal Board for Vocational Education--Washington, D. C. THE TEACHING OF ART RELATED TO THE HOME SUGGESTIONS FOR CONTENT AND METHOD IN RELATED ART INSTRUCTION IN THE VOCATIONAL PROGRAM IN HOME ECONOMICS JUNE, 1931 [Illustration] UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE WASHINGTON: 1931 For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, Washington, D. C. Price 20 cents FEDERAL BOARD FOR VOCATIONAL EDUCATION MEMBERS William N. Doak, _Chairman_ _Secretary of Labor_ Robert P. Lamont, _Secretary of Commerce_. Arthur M. Hyde, _Secretary of Agriculture_. Wm. John Cooper, _Commissioner of Education_. Edward T. Franks, _Vice Chairman_, _Manufacture and Commerce_. Perry W. Reeves, _Labor_. Claude M. Henry, _Agriculture_. John S. Shaw, _Secretary and Chief Clerk_ EXECUTIVE STAFF J. C. Wright, _Director_ Charles R. Allen, _Educational Consultant_ John Cummings, _Chief, Statistical and Research Service_ VOCATIONAL EDUCATION DIVISION C. H. Lane, _Chief_, _Agricultural Education Service_. Adelaide S. Baylor, _Chief_, _Home Economics Education Service_. Frank Cushman, _Chief_, _Trade and Industrial Education Service_. Earl W. Barnhart, _Chief_, _Commercial Education Service_. VOCATIONAL REHABILITATION DIVISION John Aubel Kratz, _Chief_, _Vocational Rehabilitation Service_ CONTENTS Page FOREWORD VII SECTION I. Introduction 1 SECTION II. Purpose of the bulletin 4 SECTION III. Determining content for a course in art related to the home 10 Place of art in the vocational program in home economics 10 Objectives for the teaching of art 12 Essential art content 14 Home situations for which art is needed 17 SECTION IV. Suggestive teaching methods in art related to the home 22 Creating interest 22 Discussion of method in the teaching of art 29 Suggested procedure for developing an ability to use a principle of proportion for attaining beauty 34 Suggested plan for the development of an understanding of the principle of proportion and its use 34 Details of lesson procedure 35 Series of suggested problems to test pupils' ability to recognize and use the principle of proportion just developed 38 Further suggestions for problems, illustrative materials, and assignments 40 Class projects 42 Notebooks 43 The place of laboratory problems 46 Field trips 53 Measuring results 55 Evidences of the successful functioning of art in the classroom 55 Evidences of the successful functioning of art in the home 58 Home projects 66 Suggestive home projects in which art is an important factor 68 SECTION V. Additional units in art related specifically to house furnishing and clothing selection 72 SECTION VI. Illustrative material 75 Purpose 75 Selection and sources 75 Use 77 Care and storage 79 SECTION VII. Reference material 81 Use of reference material 81 Sources of reference material 81 Bibliography 82 INDEX 85 FIGURES Page 1. An arrangement of wild flowers and grasses and a few books placed on a blotter on a typewriter table in front of an inexpensive india print may furnish a colorful spot in any schoolroom. Note the effective use of the screen in concealing a filing case 7 2. A bulletin board on which it is necessary to use a variety of materials adds to the appearance of the room when these materials are well arranged and frequently changed 8 3. Pupils in a Nebraska high school try out different flowers and arrangements 9 4. In a Nebraska high school a screen was used in an unattractive corner as a background for an appreciation center 24 5. The simplest school furnishings can be combined attractively. A low bookcase, a bowl of bittersweet, and a passe partout picture as here used are available in most schools 26 6. A few pieces of unrelated illustrative material may be grouped successfully in bulletin-board space 28 7. Sprouted sweetpotato produced this attractive centerpiece for the home table 29 8. Glass-paneled doors open from the dining room directly into a main first-floor corridor in the high school at Stromsburg, Nebr. 30 9. The dresser as found in the dormitory room 43 10. The same dresser after the class in related art had remodeled and painted it 43 CHARTS 1. Suggestions for use of this bulletin by teachers 5 2. Analysis of the value of notebooks in art courses 44 3. Types and sources of illustrative materials 76 Publications of the Federal Board for Vocational Education relating to home-economics education 89 FOREWORD Since the organization of the vocational program in 1917 the teaching of art in its relation to the home has been recognized as an essential part of the home-economics program. Great difficulties have been experienced in securing adequate instruction in this field. Many schools, especially in the rural communities, employ no art teachers. In such schools the only art instruction is that given by the regular home-economics teacher, and is commonly reduced to a minimum of applicable content. The teaching of art has dealt too exclusively with the creation of artistic things, and it is not easy to change the emphasis over into the field of appreciation and discriminating selection. Clothing, home planning and furnishing, care of the sick, serving of foods, care of children, and family relationships, all have an "art" side. The successful discharge of household responsibilities is conditioned largely upon a perception of this truth. There has been a dearth of teachers prepared to teach art in its application to homemaking. In the last decade, however, several of the institutions approved for training vocational teachers of home economics have introduced courses in this field, and the number of such institutions is increasing. This bulletin was prepared under the direction of Adelaide S. Baylor, chief of the home economics education service, by Florence Fallgatter, Federal agent for home economics in the central region, assisted by Elsie Wilson, a member of the home economics teacher-training staff of Iowa State College. The Federal Board for Vocational Education and Home Economics Education Service appreciate the cooperation of State supervisors, members of teacher-training staffs, vocational teachers, and art teachers both in the schools and colleges, and their contributions of material for this study. It has been undertaken to meet a demand expressed very generally during the last 14 years by teaching staffs for assistance in adapting art instruction specifically to homemaking, to the end that all instruction for homemaking may be made more effective. J. C. Wright, _Director_. THE TEACHING OF ART RELATED TO THE HOME Section I INTRODUCTION All art is life made more living, more vital than the average man lives it--hence its power. Taste, unlike genius can be acquired; and its acquisition enriches personality perhaps more than any other quality.--E. Drew. Professor Whitford[1] bases his book, An Introduction to Art, on two hypotheses: "(1) That art is an essential factor in twentieth century civilization and that it plays an important and vital part in the everyday life of people; (2) that the public school presents the best opportunity for conveying the beneficial influence of art to the individuals, the homes, and the environment of the people." In keeping with this present-day philosophy, the introduction of art instruction into the public schools is increasing. Through the influence of home economics, a field of education in which there is an urgent need and wide opportunity for practical application of the fundamental principles of art, art instruction is finding its way into many of the small schools as a definite part of the vocational programs. Whitford[2] refers to this present-day trend in home economics as follows: At first there was very little articulation between the courses in art and the courses in industrial art or household art. At the present time we realize that these courses are all related, and all work together through correlation and interrelation to supply the child with those worth while educational values which aid in meeting social, vocational, and leisure-time needs of life. Not until all girls in the public schools can have their inherent love for beauty rightly stimulated and directed may we look forward to a nation of homes tastily furnished and artistically satisfying or of people who express real genuineness and sincerity in their living. With the inception of the vocational program in home making through the passage of the Smith-Hughes Act by Congress in 1917, art was recognized as one of the essential related subjects. Thus, in the majority of the schools that have organized vocational homemaking programs, art has been included as a part of these programs and an effort has been made to apply the principles of art to those problems in everyday life in which beauty and utility are factors. The aim has been to develop in girls not only an understanding of these principles but also an ability to use them intelligently in solving many of their daily problems. Therefore the teaching of art in home economics courses is primarily concerned with problems of selection and arrangement. The girl as a prospective home maker needs to know not so much how to make a pattern but how to choose one well; not how to make a textile print but how to select and use it; not how to design furniture but how to select and arrange it; not how to make pottery but how to select the right vase or bowl for flowers. At the same time, teachers of related art in vocational schools have endeavored to show that true art is founded upon comfort, utility, convenience, and true expression of personalities as well as upon the most perfect application of art principles. Considerable emphasis has been given, therefore, to a consideration and utilization of those material things that afford opportunity for self-expression. The importance of such self-expression is stressed in the following words by Clark B. Kelsey:[3] The home expresses the personalities of its occupants and reveals far more than many realize. It stamps them as possessing taste or lacking it. Thinking men and women want backgrounds that interpret them to their friends, and they prefer that the interpretation be worthy. They also want them correct for their own personal satisfaction. In art courses that are related to the home, an attempt is made to build up in girls ideals of finding and creating beauty in their surroundings and to bring them to the point where they can recognize fitness and purpose and see beauty and derive pleasure from inexpensive and unadorned things that are available to all homes. Mr. Cyrus W. Knouff[4] has well expressed something of the importance of such a practical type of art training as follows: Show the people through their children that one may dress better on fifty dollars, understanding art principles, than on five hundred dollars not understanding symmetry, design, color, harmony, and proportion. With this knowledge you furnish a lovelier home on five hundred dollars than on five thousand without it. Get your art away from the studio into life. Teach your children the gospel of beauty and good taste in their letter writing, their picture hangings, their clothes, everything they do. Since the vocational program also provides class instruction for women who have entered upon the pursuit of home making, as well as for girls of school age, there has been some opportunity to extend art training to these women through adult classes. An attempt has been made in classes in art related to the home, home furnishing, and in clothing classes to give a training which will help them to better appreciate the influence upon family life of attractive and comfortable homes, of careful selection and arrangement of home furnishings, and of intelligent purchasing and selection of clothing. For the girls who have dropped out of school and have entered upon employment, part-time classes have been organized under the vocational program. To these the girls may come for a definite period each week to secure such instruction as will further extend their general education, better prepare them for their present work, and also improve their home life. To the extent that the employed girl improves her personal appearance, makes her living quarters more attractive, and enjoys the finer things of life she is more valuable to her employer and is an asset to society. Much has been accomplished in this direction but there is a large opportunity in most of the States for more definite attention to such needs of the employed girl. Section II PURPOSE OF THE BULLETIN The aim of related art education is to develop appreciation and character through attempting to surround one's self with things that are honest and consistent as well as beautiful.--Goldstein. The vocational programs in homemaking are designed for girls over 14 years of age in the full-time day schools, many of whom do not complete high school or do not have opportunity for more than a high-school education; for those young girls, 14 to 18 years of age, who having dropped out of full-time school can attend the part-time schools; and for women who are in position to attend adult homemaking classes. The provision of time in the programs for related subjects as well as for home-economics subjects covered in these three types of schools has made it possible to develop the principles of art and science as more than abstract theories. In this way these principles become fundamental to the most successful solving of many of the problems in home economics. The fact that these principles may be applied repeatedly in many different home-life situations means in turn a very much better understanding and subsequent use of them. Through the comparatively few years in which these vocational programs have been in operation, teachers in all States have attempted with some success to give an art training that is both practical and vital to young girls and women. They have, however, been confronted with many baffling problems. Some of these have been considered by committees on related subjects and an urgent request was made by one of these committees that a more detailed discussion of these problems be published. It is the purpose of the bulletin to point out some of the most significant problems in connection with art courses that are related to the work in homemaking and to present the pooled thinking of various groups upon them to the end that girls and women may know how to make their homes attractive even with limited incomes and how to choose and wear clothing effectively and becomingly. Some of the questions to be answered in an attempt to solve these problems are: 1. What should be the place of art in the homemaking program? 2. What are pupils' greatest art needs? 3. What classroom training will help meet these needs? 4. What are the best methods to use in teaching art? 5. To what extent will laboratory problems function in meeting pupils' needs? 6. What results should be expected from art training in the homemaking program? 7. How can these results be measured? In vocational programs the courses or units in art related to the home are taught by both art teachers and home-economics teachers. In the larger schools they are frequently assigned to the regular art teacher, provided she has had sufficient contact and experience in homemaking to give her the necessary background for making the fundamental applications. In this case she follows very closely the work in the homemaking classes and makes use of every opportunity for correlation of her art work with the home. In the smaller schools in which the vocational programs are organized there is usually no special art teacher and therefore the home-economics teacher must give all of the art work. In most States training in art is included among the qualifications for vocational home-economics teachers. The teacher-training institutions are providing instruction in art and also special methods courses in the teaching of related art in public schools in order that their prospective teachers may be as well prepared as possible to handle the related art as well as the home-economics courses. This bulletin is intended as a help to teachers of related art courses, be they regular art teachers or home-economics teachers, to art instructors and teacher trainers in colleges, and to supervisors of home economics. The following tabulated suggestions indicate how it may be of service to these four groups: Chart 1.--_Suggestions for use of this bulletin by teachers_ --------------------+-------------------------------------------------------- Groups | Uses --------------------+-------------------------------------------------------- | I. Art and home | 1. As a guide in determining objectives in related art. economics | 2. As a help in selecting content. teachers in | 3. As a means of determining method. vocational | 4. As suggestive of ways for evaluating results. schools. | 5. As suggestive in the selection and use of | illustrative materials. | 6. As a guide for reference material. | II. Art instructors | 1. As a means of becoming familiar with some of the in colleges. | typical problems which prospective teachers of | related art will meet. | 2. As a guide in selecting those phases of art for | college courses which will enable the prospective | teacher of art to solve many of her teaching | problems. III. Teacher | 1. As an index to the interests and needs of girls trainers. | in home-economics classes. | 2. As a means of determining the phases of art that | most nearly meet the needs of girls. | 3. As suggestive of methods for student teaching in | classes in art related to the home. | 4. As a basis for guiding student teachers in | collecting and preparing illustrative material. | 5. As a guide for reference material. | IV. Home economics | 1. As a stimulus to promote more courses or units supervisors, | in art. State and | 2. As a stimulus to work for better programs in local. | related art. | 3. As a guide in developing art units with teachers | through individual, district, and State | conferences. | 4. As a basis for giving assistance to teachers on | art problems. --------------------+-------------------------------------------------------- While the major emphasis in the bulletin is directed toward the teaching of related art, mention should be made of the importance of environment as a potent factor in shaping ideals and developing appreciation of the beautiful. Constant association with things of artistic quality and frequent opportunity for directed observation of good design and color should be provided for all home-economics students. The home-economics laboratory offers an opportunity for centers in which interesting and artistic groupings may be arranged. These tend to eliminate much of the formal school atmosphere and provide a more typical home environment. Such centers in home-economics laboratories have been appropriately called appreciation centers. A laboratory with examples of the beautiful in line and color, such as well-arranged bowls of flowers, bulletin boards, wall hangings, or book corners, may prove an effective though silent teacher. It would be futile to attempt to make most school laboratories too much like homes, however. Such attempts may give the appearance of being overdone. The light and cheerful room, with the required furnishings well arranged and one or more appreciation centers, is usually the more restful and attractive. From daily contact with this type of room girls unconsciously develop an appreciation of appropriateness and of orderliness and an ideal for reproducing interesting arrangements in their own homes. It is desirable to have the appreciation centers changed frequently, and to give pupils an opportunity to share in selecting and making the arrangements. [Illustration: Figure 1.--An arrangement of wild flowers and grasses and a few books placed on a blotter on a typewriter table in front of an inexpensive india print may furnish a colorful spot in any schoolroom. Note the effective use of the screen in concealing a filing case] [Illustration: Figure 2.--A bulletin board on which it is necessary to use a variety of materials adds to the appearance of the room when these materials are well arranged and frequently changed] [Illustration: Figure 3.--Pupils in a Nebraska high school try out different flowers and arrangements] Section III DETERMINING CONTENT FOR A COURSE IN ART RELATED TO THE HOME Taste develops gradually through the making of choices with reference to some ideal.--Henry Turner Bailey. PLACE OF ART IN THE VOCATIONAL PROGRAM IN HOME ECONOMICS In recent years, many schools carrying the vocational program in home economics have scheduled courses in related art five to seven periods each week for one semester and in some cases for an entire year. In other schools, the entire vocational half day has been devoted to home economics, art being introduced in short units or as a part of some unit in home economics where it seemed to meet particular needs. A unit of several weeks or a full semester of consecutive time devoted to the teaching of art as related to the home is generally considered more effective than to teach only certain art facts and principles as they are needed in the regular home economics units. Since art is recognized as fundamental to the solving of so many homemaking problems, it seems desirable to provide for this training as early in the first year of the home-economics program as possible so that it may contribute to the instruction in the first unit in clothing and home furnishing. Prior to selecting the pattern and material for a dress, the girl needs to understand certain principles of design and color which will enable her to choose wisely. If art training has not preceded this problem in the clothing course, or if there is no provision for art work to parallel the clothing instruction unit, it becomes necessary to introduce some art training at this point. A similar situation arises in connection with the other units involving selection and arrangement such as home furnishing or table service. If art is taught only to solve specific problems as they arise the pupil will not have an opportunity to apply it to other phases of home-economics instruction and will therefore fail to develop the ability to understand and use the principles of art effectively in solving her other problems. There is the further danger that the girl's interest in home economics will be destroyed by interrupting the home-making instruction to teach the art needed for each unit. For example, if the girl is planning to make a dress, her interest and efforts are centered on its production. If preliminary to starting the dress, time must be taken to establish standards for the selection of the pattern and materials, the process of making is prolonged and the girl's interest in the art lessons and in the later construction of the dress is only half-hearted. Training which provides for many applications of the art principles as they are developed gives the girl an ability to use these principles in solving the problems which arise at other times in home-making units. It is preferable therefore to arrange the vocational program so that the art instruction parallels or precedes those units in homemaking in which there is particular need for art. However, if the program can not include the teaching of art as a consecutive unit paralleling or preceding certain units in homemaking, it will be far better for the home-economics teacher to include art training as it is needed in the homemaking work than to omit it or attempt to proceed without the basic fundamental information necessary for the successful solution of many problems in home economics. In such a plan, time and opportunity should be definitely provided later in the homemaking program to summarize and unify the art training that has been given at various times in order that it may function in the lives of the pupils to a larger extent than that of solving only the immediate problems for which it was introduced. Such a summarization will make possible the application of the essential principles of art to a wide variety of situations and will mean not only a more thorough understanding of these principles but a more permanent ability to use them in achieving beauty and satisfaction in environment. There are then three possible plans for including art instruction in the vocational program in homemaking, namely: 1. By presenting the course in art related to the home as a separate semester or year course that parallels the homemaking course. When it is a semester course, it is well to offer art the first half of the year in order that it may be of greatest value to the first units in clothing. 2. By giving the course in art related to the home as a separate unit in the homemaking course. Such an art unit should precede that homemaking unit in which there is greatest need as well as opportunity for many applications of the principles of art which are being developed. This will usually be the unit in clothing or home furnishing. 3. By giving short series of art lessons as needs arise in the homemaking course. Certain dangers have been pointed out in this plan. If used, it should include a definite time for unifying and summarizing the art work at the end of the course. OBJECTIVES FOR THE TEACHING OF ART In the vocational program in which the teaching is specifically designed to train for homemaking, it is obvious that the major objective in the related art units should be to train for the consumption of art objects rather than for their production. Bobbitt[5] elaborates on this objective as follows: * * * the curriculum maker will discern that the men and women of the community dwell within the midst of innumerable art forms. Our garments, articles of furniture, lamps, clocks, book covers, automobiles, the exterior and interior of our houses, even the billboards by the roadside are shaped and colored to comply in some degree, small or large, with the principles of aesthetic design. Even the most utilitarian things are shaped and painted so as to please the eye. * * * It would seem then that individuals should be sensitive to and appreciative of the better forms of art in the things of their environment. As consumers they should be prepared to choose things of good design and reject those of poor design: and thus gradually create through their choices a world in which beauty prevails and ugliness is reduced to a minimum. This does not require skill in drawing or in other form of visual art. It calls rather for sensitiveness of appreciation and powers of judgment. * * * The major objectives must be the ability to choose and use those things which embody the higher and better art motives. Education is to aim at power to judge the relative aesthetic qualities of different forms, designs, tones, and colors. Skill in drawing and design does not find a place as one of the objectives. The type of furnishing and decorating products consumed in the home as well as the type of clothing purchased for the family depends upon the understanding and appreciation which the home makers have developed for good art qualities. This in turn is dependent upon training. As one writer points out[6]-- * * * one's capacity richly to enjoy life is dependent upon one's capacity fully to understand and participate in the things which make up life interests. In art this is particularly true, for we can only enjoy and appreciate that which we are able to understand. Through training we may be able to appreciate and understand art even though we can not produce art to any great extent. This we may think of as mental training. The content of an art training course may be defined in terms of objectives to be attained and these in turn should be determined through a careful consideration of the art needs of girls and women. In order to know these needs, the teacher must study the appearance, conditions, and practices in the homes of her pupils. Through observation of the general appearance and clothing of the pupils and a knowledge of their interests and activities outside of school, she will obtain much valuable information, but, in addition, it is highly desirable that she visit their homes. This first-hand knowledge of the homes and community should be secured early in the school year and prior to the art unit or course if possible. The teacher should also be constantly alert to the many opportunities offered through community functions, local stores, and newspapers for becoming more familiar with particular needs and interests in her school community. In making contacts in the homes and community, it is essential that the teacher use utmost tact. Few homes are ideal as they are, but something good can be found in all of them. The starting point should be with the good features and from there guidance should be given in making the best possible use of what is already possessed. _It would be far better for the girls to have no art work than to have the type of course that develops in them a hypercritical attitude or that creates an unhappiness or a sense of shame of their own homes. The aim of all art work is to develop appreciation, not a critical or destructive attitude._ Through such a study of girls' needs and interests certain general objectives will be set up for units of courses in related art. Through a well-planned program the majority of pupils in any situation may reasonably be expected to develop-- 1. A growing interest in the beauty to be found in nature and the material things of their environment. 2. Enjoyment of good design and color found in their surroundings. 3. A desire to own and use things which have permanent artistic qualities. 4. An ability to choose things which are good in design and color and to use them effectively. Out of these general objectives for all related art work, more specific objectives based on pupils' immediate needs and interests are essential. In terms of pupil accomplishment these objectives may be as follows:[7] I. Interest in-- 1. Finding beauty in everyday surroundings. _a._ In nature. _b._ In man-made materials and objects. _c._ In art masterpieces. 2. Making homes attractive as well as comfortable. II. Development of a desire for-- 1. Beautiful though simple and inexpensive possessions. 2. Skill in making artistic combinations and arrangements in home and clothing. III. Ability to-- 1. Select and make balanced arrangements. 2. Select articles and make arrangements in which the various proportions are pleasing. 3. Select and use articles and materials which are pleasing because there is interesting repetition of line, shape, or color. 4. Select and use articles and materials in which there is desirable rhythmic movement. 5. Select and make arrangements in which there is desirable emphasis. 6. Arrange articles in a given space so they are in harmony with the space and with each other. 7. Select colors suited to definite use and combine them harmoniously. IV. Appreciation of good design and color wherever found. These specific objectives probably cover those phases of art for which the average homemaker has the greatest need. In the limited amount of time that is available for the related art units in most vocational programs, the choice of what to teach must be confined to the most fundamental facts and principles of art only. The problems through which these are to be developed may be drawn for the most part from actual situations within the girls' own experiences. It should be remembered that the ulterior motive in all art training in the homemaking program is to give to girls that which will make it possible for them to achieve and to enjoy more beauty in their everyday lives. In the average class few, if any, girls will have that type of "creative ability" possessed by great artists, but all of the group may be expected to attain considerable ability in selecting, grouping, and arranging the articles and materials of a normal home and for personal use. This may rightfully be termed creative ability. For example, the girl who works out a successful color scheme through wise selections and uses of color in her room or in a costume is indeed a creator of beauty. ESSENTIAL ART CONTENT A very careful selection of content for the course or unit in related art must be made. The vast amount of material in art from which to choose makes the problem the more difficult. An attempt to teach with any degree of success all of the content in art books and to give pupils an understanding of all of the art terms would be futile and would result in confusion. In the time available for art in the day vocational schools, as well as in the part-time and adult classes, the teacher is limited in her choice of content and must be guided by the objectives for the course that represent the girls' needs in their everyday problems of selection and arrangement. Teachers are often baffled by the seeming multiplicity of terms. The Federated Council on Art Education has recently issued the report of its committee on terminology. The pertinent section dealing with indefinite nomenclature is here quoted:[8] The subject of terminology in the field of art is extremely broad and for the most part indefinitely classified. Over 100 technical terms are in common use in the vocabulary of art. Often words are used by different authors with entirely different meanings, and in other cases the degree of difference between words is too slight to warrant use of a separate term. Also many of the terms are used interchangeably by different authors and frequently they are ambiguous and obscure in meaning and difficult to apply in public-school work. In general, the literature used as a basis for planning, organizing, and developing units of art instruction in the schools is very indefinite in regard to nomenclature. For this reason the committee on terminology centered the first part of its investigation upon a program of analysis to determine, if possible, the most significant words in common use. In the preparation of this bulletin, several art texts, reference books, and courses of study were examined for the purpose of determining the art terms that were most frequently used. On that basis, from these various sources the following were listed: Balance. Proportion. Repetition. Rhythm. Emphasis. Harmony. Color. Line. Light and dark. Unity. Radiation. Opposition. Transition. Subordination. Center of Interest. Dominance. Since the content for a course in related art should contribute very definitely to the girl's present and future individual and home needs it is suggested that only the minimum essential terminology be used, remembering that in such a course the chief concern is the development of those principles and facts that contribute to the realization of such objectives as have been suggested. There seems to be common agreement that balance, proportion, repetition, rhythm, emphasis, harmony, and color are of first importance in their contribution to beauty and that the various principles and facts concerning each should be developed in an art unit or course. The selection of these seven phases of art as fundamental is supported by Goldstein,[9] by Russell and Wilson,[10] and by Trilling and Williams.[11] The committee on art terminology has also given emphasis to these in the classification as set up in Table V of their report. This is here given in full. _Simplest form of classification_[12] ----------------+--------------+--------------+------------+------------ Basic | Major | Minor | Resulting | Supreme elements | principles | principles | attributes | attainment ----------------+--------------+--------------+------------+------------ | | | | Line. | Repetition. | Alteration. | | Form. | | Sequence. | | | Rhythm. | | Harmony. | Light } | | Radiation. | | and } Tone. | Proportion. | Parallelism. | | Beauty. Dark. } | | Transition. | | | Balance. | | Fitness. | Color. | | Symmetry. | | Texture. | Emphasis. | Contrast. | | | | | | ----------------+--------------+--------------+------------+------------ It will be noted that repetition, rhythm, proportion, balance, and emphasis are listed as major principles. It will also be noted that harmony is classified as a resulting attribute. This will be the inevitable result if the principles of the first five are well taught. Arrangements which meet the standards of good proportion, which are well balanced and which are suited to the space in which they are arranged will be harmonious. Although color is designated as a basic element of art structure in this table and the principles of design function in the effective use of it, there are some guides of procedure in the use of those qualities of color, such as hue, value, and intensity, which should be developed to insure a real ability to select colors and combine them harmoniously. Line is also considered a basic element of art structure. Since the problems in a course in art related to the home are largely those of selection, combination, and arrangement, the consideration of line may be confined to its effect as it provides pleasing proportions, is repeated in an interesting manner, or produces desirable rhythm. The omission of the remainder of the art terms that were found to be frequently used in art books and courses of study is not as arbitrary as it seems. Through the consideration of the qualities of color it will be found that value includes the material often given under "light and dark" or "notan." Referring again to the report of the Committee on Art Terminology,[13] "unity" is considered as a synonymous term for "harmony." Since it is possible for an arrangement to be unified and still be lacking in harmony, the latter term is used in the bulletin as the more important and inclusive one. There is less obvious need for the principles of "radiation," "opposition," and "transition" in problems of selection and arrangement. The Goldsteins refer to them as methods of arranging the basic elements of lines, forms, and colors in contributing to the principles of balance, proportion, rhythm, emphasis, and harmony. Thus some reference to them may be made in the development of the principles of harmony and rhythm. Emphasis has been chosen as an inclusive term which represents "subordination," "center of interest," and "dominance." It is hoped that these suggested phases of art to be included in a course or unit in art related to the home will not be considered too limited. Each teacher of art should feel free to develop as many of the principles as are needed by her groups, remembering that it is far better to teach _a few principles well_ than to attempt more than can be done satisfactorily. In developing the principles of design certain guides for procedure or methods in achieving beauty will be formulated. For example, in considering balance, pupils will soon recognize that the feeling of rest or repose that is the result of balance is essential in any artistic or satisfying arrangement. Their problem is how to attain it in the various arrangements for which they are responsible. Thus guides for procedure or methods of attaining balance must be determined. Such guides for obtaining balance may be-- 1. Arranging like objects so they are equidistant from a center produces a feeling of rest or balance. 2. Unlike objects may be balanced by placing the larger or more noticeable one nearer the center. It will be seen that these are also measuring sticks for the judging of results. It is evident that in a short course in art a teacher can not assist girls in all situations at home in which balance may be used. Therefore it is essential that the pupils understand and use these guiding laws or rules for obtaining balance in a sufficient number of problems at school to gain independence in the application of them in other situations. Some authorities[14] term these methods for attaining results, guiding laws for procedure, or principles. HOME SITUATIONS FOR WHICH ART IS NEEDED The common practice in art courses relating to the home has been to draw problems from the fields of clothing and home furnishing. This has been true for the obvious reason that an endeavor has been made to interest the girl in art through her personal problems of clothing and her own room. Since in a vocational program the objective is to train for homemaking, it is essential that art contribute to the solving of all home problems in which color and good design are factors. In the selection and utilization of materials that have to do with child development, meal preparation and table service, home exterior as well as interior, and social and community relationships, application of the principles of art plays a large and important part. One of the teacher's great problems is that of determining pupil needs. Although homes vary considerably in detail, there are many similar situations arising in all of them for which an understanding of the fundamental art principles is essential. It is important that the problems and situations utilized for developing and then applying again and again these fundamental principles shall be within the realm of each student's experience. The following series of topics may suggest some of the situations that are common to most homes and therefore be usable as the basis for problems in developing principles of art or for providing judgment and creative problems. In most of these topics, other factors such as cost, durability, and ease of handling will need to be considered in making final decisions, for art that is taught in relation to the home is not divorced from the practical aspects of it. _Child development_-- Choosing colored books and toys for children. Choosing wall covering for a child's room. Choosing pictures for a child's room. Placing and hanging pictures in a child's room. Selecting furniture for a child's room. Determining types of decoration and desirable amounts of it for children's clothing. Choosing colors for children's clothing. Making harmonious combinations of colors for children's clothing. Choosing designs and textures suitable for children's clothing. Avoiding elaborate and fussy clothing for children. _Meal planning and table service_-- Using table appointments that are suitable backgrounds for the meal. Choosing appropriate table appointments in-- Linen. China. Silver. Glassware. Using desirable types of flowers or plants for the dining table. Making flower arrangements suitable in size for the dining table. Selecting consistent substitutes for flowers on the table. Choosing containers for flowers or plants. Using candles on the table. Deciding upon choice and height of candles and candlesticks in relation to the size and height of the centerpiece. Determining when to use nut cups and place cards. Choosing place cards and nut cups. Arranging individual covers so that the table is balanced and harmonious. Folding and placing napkins. Considering color and texture of foods in planning menus. Determining when and how to use suitable food garnishes. _Home--Exterior_-- Developing and maintaining attractive surroundings for the house. Choosing dormers, porches, and porch columns that are in scale with the house. Grouping and placing the windows so they are harmonious with each other and with the house. Planning suitable and effective trellises and arbors. Recognizing limitations in the use of formal gardens and grounds. Determining the use of the informal type of grounds. Choosing house paint and considering how it may be influenced by neighboring houses. Determining the influence of the color of the house on the choice of color for the porch furniture and accessories and for awnings. Selecting and arranging porch furniture and accessories. Selecting curtains for the windows of the house which are attractive from the exterior as well as from the interior. Determining desirable shapes for trimmed hedges and shrubbery. Selecting shrubbery and flowers that will contribute, at small cost, to the appearance of a home. Planning the grounds of a home and the possible use of a bird bath, an artificial pool, or a rock garden. _Home--Interior_-- Securing beauty rather than display. Selecting textures that suggest good taste rather than merely a desire for display. Choosing wall coverings that are attractive and suitable backgrounds for the home. Selecting rugs for various rooms. Selecting furniture that adds attractiveness, comfort, and convenience to the home. Determining relation of beauty in furniture to the price of it. Choosing window shades, curtains, and draperies from the standpoint of color, texture, design, and fashion. Selecting appropriate accessories for the home. Determining when to use pictures and wall hangings in the home. Choosing pictures and wall hangings for the home. Placing rugs, furniture, and accessories in the home. Arranging and hanging pictures and wall hangings. Determining the relation of type and arrangement of furnishings and accessories to the formality or informality of a room. Avoiding formal treatment and shiny textures in the average home. Planning how color may be used and distributed effectively in a room. Determining how color schemes of rooms are affected by size, purpose, and location. Discouraging the use of cloth, paper, and wax flowers and painted weeds in the home. _Social and community relations_-- Determining social and community activities with which high school girls are asked to assist and for which art training is needed. Making attractive and suitable posters for special occasions. Selecting and arranging flowers and potted plants for various occasions. Planning, selecting, and using appropriate decorations for special events. Wrapping gifts and packages attractively. Choosing and using appropriate stationery, calling cards, place cards, and greeting cards. _Clothing_-- Determining appropriate clothing for all occasions. Planning clothing that adds to rather than detracts from the charm of the wearer. Planning to avoid garments and accessories that may be liabilities rather than assets. Recognizing the relation of the "style of the moment" to the choice and combination of the clothing for the individual. Choosing colors for the individual. Utilizing bright colors in clothing. Selecting harmonious color combinations in clothing. Selecting and using textile designs in clothing. Selecting and adapting style designs in patterns for the individual. Improving undesirable body lines and proportions through the wise choice of clothing. Selecting clothing accessories-- Hats. Shoes. Hosiery. Gloves. Bags. Jewelry. Selecting and using appropriate jewelry and similar accessories with various ensembles. Choosing texture, color and design for undergarments that make appropriate and attractive foundations for the outer garments. As yet no committee on related art has proceeded so far as to suggest specific content for art courses that are related to homemaking. Since this bulletin deals with the teaching of art as it relates to homemaking, teaching content is presented only in so far as it exemplifies methods or procedures and relates to objectives. It is hoped, however, that teachers will find real guidance for selecting content that will meet the particular needs of their classes through, the detailed consideration of objectives, the selection of principles, and the many suggestions that are offered for art applications that can be made in all phases of homemaking. Section IV SUGGESTIVE TEACHING METHODS IN ART RELATED TO THE HOME The test of a real product of learning is this: First, its permanency; and second, its habitual use in the ordinary activities of life.--Morrison. CREATING INTEREST There is a general conception that art is naturally interesting to everyone. Accepting this as true, a specific interest must be developed from this natural interest for the most effective courses in art training. Whitford[15] says: Little can be accomplished in general education, and practically nothing can be done in art education, unless interest and enthusiasm are awakened in the student. The awakening of interest constitutes one of the first steps in the development of a pupil's natural talents. Some teachers, in attempting to awaken or to hold the interest of girls in related art courses, have started with art laboratory problems which involve considerable manipulation of materials. A certain type of interest may be so aroused, for pupils are always interested in the manipulative processes involved in producing articles and even more in the possession of the completed products, but it may be only a temporary appeal rather than an interest in the larger relation of art to everyday living. While it is true that manipulative problems do contribute to the development of greater confidence and initiative and therefore have their place in an art course, yet the successful completion of most products requires greater creative and judgment abilities than pupils will have acquired early in the course. It is then a questionable use of laboratory problems to depend upon them for awakening the specific interest in art. Initial interest of students may be stimulated through directed observation of the many things about them which are good in color and design or by discussion of problems which are very pertinent to girls' art needs or desires.[16] However, conscious effort on the part of the teacher is necessary to "open the windows of the world," if pupils are to develop real interest and experience such enjoyment from the beauty which surrounds them that an ideal of attaining beauty in dress and home is established. A definite plan is necessary for stimulating this interest which is said to be possessed by all. Without an interest that will continue to grow from day to day it is difficult to develop the necessary judgment abilities for solving everyday problems in selection and arrangement. Professor Lancelot[17] suggests the following procedure as the initial steps in the building of permanent interests: 1. Early in the course endeavor through general class discussions, rather than by mere telling, to lead the students to see clearly just how the subject which they are taking up may be expected to prove useful to them in later life and how great its actual value to them will probably be. 2. At the same time attempt to establish clearly in their minds the relationships that exist between the new subject, taken as a whole, and any other branches of knowledge, or human activities, in which they are already interested. 3. Specify and describe the new worthwhile powers and abilities which are to be acquired from the course, endeavoring to create in the students the strongest possible desire or "feeling of need" for them. If this procedure is followed, in the field of art the teacher will refrain from merely telling pupils that art will be of great value to them later in life. On the other hand, in creating interest it is suggested that class discussion of general topics within the range of pupil experience and of obvious need be used to awaken an interest in the value of art in their own lives. The teacher must be sure that the topics are of real interest to the pupils. For example, which of these questions would probably arouse the most animated discussion: "What is art?" or "Arnold Bennett says, 'The art of dressing ranks with that of painting. To dress well is an art and an extremely complicated and difficult art.' Do you agree with Arnold Bennett? Why?" Other discussions may be started by asking questions such as the following: 1. Have you ever heard some one say, "Mary's new dress is lovely but the color is not becoming to her"? Why do people ever choose unbecoming colors? Would you like to be able to select colors becoming to you? How can you insure success for yourself? 2. Movie corporations are spending great sums of money in an attempt to produce pictures in color. Why do they feel justified in making such expenditures to introduce the single new quality of color? [Illustration: Figure 4.--In a Nebraska high school a screen was used in an unattractive corner as a background for an appreciation center] 3. Do you like this scarf? This cushion? This picture? Why? Why not? Why is there some disagreement? To what extent can our likes guide our choices? 4. The class may be asked to choose from a number of vases, lamp shades, table covers, or candles those which they think are most beautiful. The question may then be asked, "Would you like to find out what makes some articles more beautiful than others?" 5. Where in nature are the brightest spots of color found? Have you ever seen combinations of color in nature that were not pleasing? How may we make better use of nature's examples? 6. Why do girls and women prefer to go to the store to select dresses or dress material? Hats? Coats? Can one always be sure of the most becoming thing to buy even when shopping in person? What would be helpful in making selections? The classroom setting for the teaching of art plays a very important part in arousing interest. Attempting to awaken interest in art in a bare, unattractive room is even more futile than trying to create interest in better table service with no table appointments. In the first situation there is probably such a wide variation in the background and experience of the pupils and in their present ability to observe the beautiful things of their surroundings that it becomes increasingly important that the teacher provide an environment which is attractive and inviting. In the second situation the pupils have had experience with the essential equipment in their own homes and so can visualize to some extent the use of that equipment at the table. Bobbitt[18] says-- One needs to have his consciousness saturated by living for years in the presence of art forms of good quality. The appreciations will grow up unconsciously and inevitably; and they will be normal and relatively unsophisticated. As a matter of fact, art to be most enjoyed and to be most serviceable, should not be too conscious. Schoolrooms in which pupils spend a large part of their waking hours should provide for the building of appreciation in this way, and it is especially true in the homemaking room. Some home economics teachers have cleverly planned for students to share in the responsibility of creating and maintaining an attractive classroom as a means of stimulating interest in art. It would be well for all home economics teachers to follow this practice. [Illustration: Figure 5.--The simplest school furnishings can be combined attractively. A low bookcase, a bowl of bittersweet, and a passe partout picture as here used are available in most schools] In many economics laboratories there are several possible improvements that would make better environment for art teaching. Suggestions for such improvements include: 1. More color in the room through the use of flowers, colorful pottery, colored candles, and pictures, featuring arrangements that could be duplicated in the home. 2. More emphasis upon structural lines-- _a._ Pictures that are grouped and hung correctly. _b._ Attractive arrangement of a teacher's desk. _c._ Arrangement of the furniture so that the groupings are well balanced and the wall spaces are nicely proportioned. _d._ Good arrangement of materials on bulletin board. 3. More attention to orderliness-- _a._ When class is not working, orderliness in window-shade arrangement. _b._ Elimination of unnecessary objects and furnishings to avoid cluttered appearance. _c._ Tops of cases and cupboards or open shelves cleared. There are few seasons in the year when the teacher can not introduce interesting shapes and notes of color through products of nature. The fall brings the colored leaves and bright berries which last through the winter. Bulbs may be started in late winter for early spring, and certain plants can be kept successfully throughout the year. With such interesting possibilities for using natural flowers, berries, and grasses, why would a teacher resort to the use of artificial flowers or painted grasses? Morgan[19] pertinently discusses the artificial versus the real: Some say "What about painted weeds and grasses?" No; that is mockery. It doesn't seem fair to paint them with colors that were not theirs in life. One can almost fancy hearing the dead grasses crying out, "Don't smear us up and then display us like mummies in a museum." Remember, a true artist, one who truly loves beauty, despises imitation or deceit. There are several interesting possibilities for home table centerpieces to be used during the winter months when flowers are not available. Grapefruit seeds or parsley planted in nice-shaped, low bowls grow to make attractive-shaped foliage for the table. A sweetpotato left half covered with water in a low bowl sprouted and made the graceful arrangement of pretty foliage pictured in Figure 7, page 29. Pupils are more apt to provide such plants in their homes if they see examples of the real centerpieces at school. It is, therefore, worth while for a teacher to direct a class in starting and caring for one or more types of them. In one State a definite effort is made in planning home-economics departments to have the dining room open directly into corridors through which most of the pupils of the entire school pass at some time during the day. See figure 8, page 30. [Illustration: Figure 6.--A few pieces of unrelated illustrative materials may be grouped successfully in bulletin-board space] This arrangement permits pupils to observe attractive as well as suitable arrangements of the dining room furnishings, and especially of the table. Such a plan should be effective in establishing ideals of what is good and in raising standards in the homes of boys as well as of girls in the community. A further contributing essential to stimulating interest in art is a teacher who exemplifies in her appearance the art she is teaching. It is said that sometimes our most successful teaching is done at a time when the teacher is least conscious of it. The teacher of an art class who appears in an ensemble of clothing which is unsuited to the occasion and in which the various parts are not in harmony with each other from the standpoint of color, of texture, or of decoration loses sight of one of her finest opportunities for influencing art practices of pupils and developing good taste in them. [Illustration: Figure 7.--Sprouted sweetpotato produced this attractive centerpiece for the home table] There is no more applicable situation for the old adage, "Practice what you preach," than in the teaching of art. One teacher was conducting a discussion on the choice of bowls and vases for flowers as a part of flower arrangement while behind her on the desk was a bottle into which a bunch of flowers had been jammed. Contrast this with the situation in which the teacher had worked out the arrangement of wild flowers and grasses as shown in Figure 1. DISCUSSION OF METHOD IN THE TEACHING OF ART In discussing the best methods of teaching art, Whitford[20] says: As a practical subject art education calls for no exceptional treatment in regard to methods of instruction. The instruction should conform to those general educational principles that have been found to hold good in the teaching of other subjects. Without such conformity the best results can not be hoped for. [Illustration: Figure 8.--Glass-paneled doors open from the dining room directly into a main first-floor corridor in the high school at Stromsburg, Nebr.] It is anticipated that through the course in related art pupils will have gained an ability to choose more suitably those materials and articles of wearing apparel and of home furnishing which involve color and design. It is through understanding certain fundamental principles of art and using them that the everyday art problems can be more adequately solved. The teacher is confronted with the question as to how to develop most successfully this understanding and ability. Shall she proceed from the stated principles to their application in solving problems or shall she start with the problems and so direct their solution that the important principles and generalizations are derived in the process. The present trend in education is toward the second procedure and in keeping with this trend, the elaboration of method in this section is confined to the so-called problem-solving method. When pupils have an opportunity to formulate their own conclusions in solving problems and through the solution of many problems having an identical element find a generalization or principle that serves as a guide in other procedures, experience seems to indicate that they get not only a clearer conception of the principle but are able also to make greater subsequent use of it. In their everyday experiences pupils are continually faced with the necessity for making selections, combinations, and arrangements which will be satisfying from the standpoint of color and design. Before they can select wisely they need some standards upon which to base their judgments and by which they can justify their decisions. Before they can make satisfying arrangements and combinations of material they need judgment skill in determining what to do. They also need principles or standards by which they can determine how to proceed. Finally, they need opportunity for practice so that they may become adept in assembling articles and materials into pleasing and harmonious groupings and arrangements. The more experience pupils have in confronting and solving true-to-life problems under the guidance of the teacher, the greater is the probability that they will have acquired habits of thinking that will enable them to solve successfully the many problems that they are continually forced to meet in life. It might be well to inquire at this point the meaning of the word problem as used in this bulletin. According to Strebel and Morehart[21]-- Probably there is no better definition of a problem than the condition which is spoken of by Doctor Kilpatrick as a "balked activity." This idea is general enough to include all sorts and phases of problems, practical and speculative, simple and difficult, natural and artificial, final and preliminary, empirical and scientific, and those of skill and information. It covers the conditions which exist when one does not know what to do either in whole or in part, and when one knows what to do but not how to do it, and when one knows what to do and how to do it but for lack of skill can not do it. In teaching by the problem-solving method Professor Lancelot[22] makes use of three types of problems. Through the first type, known as the _inductive problem_, the pupil is to determine certain causes or effects in the given situation. In determining these causes and effects, various details of information are needed but these do not remain as isolated and unrelated items. Out of the several facts is evolved a general law, a truth, or a principle. For example, in developing pupil ability to understand and use the underlying principle of emphasis, the teacher may make use of such questions as: Have you ever tried to watch a three-ring circus? Pupils are given an opportunity to relate their experiences. Have you ever seen a store window that reminded you of a circus? In which of the store windows on Center Street do you think the merchant has displayed his merchandise to the greatest advantage? Why? From a discussion of such questions as these the teacher can lead the pupil to realize the desirability of avoiding confusion in combining and arranging articles used together and to understand at least one way of producing the desired effect. The next type is the _judgment or reasoning problem_, which offers two or more possible solutions. In certain subjects as mathematics in which there is but one correct answer, the reasoning problem is used. In other subjects in which, in the light of existing conditions, there is a best answer, the judgment problem is used. This best answer or final choice is determined upon the basis of the law or principle established through the inductive problems. Few subjects are more concerned with the making of choices than art. For this reason, judgment problems play an important part in an art training which is to function in the daily lives of pupils. As soon as a principle has been tentatively established, it is desirable to give the pupils an opportunity to recognize the use of the principle in several similar situations and to use it as a basis for making selections. For example, following the establishment of the principle of emphasis, the teacher may ask the pupils: Will each of you select from these magazines an advertisement in which your attention was immediately attracted to the article for sale? Be ready to tell the class why you were attracted to this piece of merchandise. The third and final type is the _creative problem_, which makes use of the truth or principle discovered in the inductive problems, so that the pupil is encouraged to do some creative thinking by using the principle as the basis for determining procedure to follow in a new situation. Since everyday living is full of opportunities for making choices and combinations, it is essential that both judgment and creative problems be included in practical art training. For example, to teach the use of the creative problem in the study of emphasis the instructor may say to a pupil: Choose a partner with whom to work. From the materials I am providing make an attractive table arrangement for a living room, and then choose a large piece of wallpaper or a textile that would make a good background for it. Lamps, candles, candlesticks, flowers, pottery, and books will be provided for this activity, as well as the textiles and the wallpaper. Professor Lancelot[23] sets up five standards for determining what are good problems. They must, he says, be-- 1. Based on true-to-life situations. 2. Interesting or connected with things of interest. 3. Clearly and definitely stated. 4. Neither too difficult nor too easy. 5. Call for thinking of superior ability. In addition, there are four other factors to be considered in the planning of a successful problem series; 1. Each problem should score high according to the above standards. 2. The usual sequence is in the order already given--inductive, judgment, and creative. Since the creative problems call for the highest type of thinking and are the most difficult, the natural place for them is at the end of the problem series. At that point the pupils should have sufficient information and judgment ability to enable them to solve the most difficult problem quite readily. Introducing the difficult problem too soon may discourage the pupil and lessen interest in the course as a whole. Some creative problems involve fewer art principles than others. For example, the spacing of a name on a place card is much simpler than the hanging of a picture in a given space. In art it is desirable to use simple creative problems as they fit naturally into the problem series. (See pp. 38-39.) 3. As the problem series develops, there should be an increase in the difficulty of the problems. It is obvious that the simpler problems are to be used at the first of the series. To develop judgment to a desirable extent, the later choices will be determined from an increasing number of similar situations and from situations in which the degree of difference decreases as the problem series progresses. 4. Each problem series should involve as many types of life situations as possible. For example, applications of art are needed in the various phases of homemaking. (See Section III, pp. 18-21.) For that reason it is very desirable to select problems in each series from as many of these phases as possible. By this means the pupils are better able to cope with their own problems in which a fundamental art truth, or principle is the basis for adequate solution. The following detailed procedure is presented as an illustration of the way in which an art principle may be developed through a problem series. It may appear to be unnecessarily detailed and to require more time than the average teacher would have for planning. However, part of material here given consists of probable pupil replies and a description of the illustrative materials that are to be used. SUGGESTED PROCEDURE FOR DEVELOPING AN ABILITY TO USE A PRINCIPLE OF PROPORTION FOR ATTAINING BEAUTY An effort is here made to present the details of a teaching plan by which a principle of proportion may be developed by the pupils. This plan is spoken of as a lesson, but not in the sense that it is to be accomplished in a limited amount of time, such as one class period. The term _lesson_ is used to designate the _entire procedure_ from the introductory problem to the point where the pupils have developed the ability to use the principle of proportion. It will be possible to make more rapid progress with some classes than with others and in some class periods than in others. It is suggested that the teacher endeavor to evaluate the class time and plan so that the end of the period comes not as an interruption but as a challenge to further interest, observation, and efforts. The lesson suggested below should take not more than three of the short class periods of 40 to 45 minutes. If too much time is spent on one series there may be a lessening of interest because of seeming repetition. On the other hand, if sufficient applications and problems are not used after the principle is established, there is danger that the pupils will not be able to use it in solving other daily problems. Further suggestions for problems, illustrative materials, and assignments may be found on page 40. SUGGESTED PLAN FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF AN UNDERSTANDING OF THE PRINCIPLE OF PROPORTION AND ITS USE _General objective._--To develop ability to-- Select articles which are pleasing because of good proportions. Adapt and make pleasing proportions as needed. _Specific objective._--To develop ability to-- Divide a space so the resulting parts are pleasing in their relationship to each other and to the whole. Assume that the group to be taught is a ninth-grade class in art related to the home. Very few members of the class have had any previous art training and such training has consisted of some drawing and water-color work in the lower grades. Previous to this lesson, it is assumed that the teacher has developed the pupils' interest in the beauty to be seen and enjoyed in the everyday surroundings of their community, and has developed pupil ability to understand and to use a principle of proportion, namely, that _a shape is most pleasing when one side is about one and one-half times as long as the other_. The establishment of the above principle has probably given the class an opportunity to read of the Golden Oblong or the Greek Law of proportion in an art reference such as Goldstein's Art in Everyday Life. This will have served to further establish a feeling for interesting shape relationships and also will have made the pupils familiar with the term "proportion." The class may or may not have developed an ability to recognize and use the principles of balance. =Details of Lesson Procedure= [Sidenote: Problems and questions to introduce the principle needed to solve this and many similar problems] The first-aid room in the school is very bare and cheerless. Miss M., the school nurse, and Mr. B., the superintendent, have decided that some thin ruffled curtains at the two windows will soften the light and make the room more homelike. Miss M. has purchased some ready-made curtains and has asked if the class would like to determine the best way to arrange the tie backs. "How many of you think that this is an art problem? Will it be helpful to us to know how to divide a window space with curtains? Tie-back, ruffled curtains have been very much in vogue for some time. The models in the drapery departments and the illustrated advertisements show a variety of methods to use. Since there is so much variation, how can we be sure that curtains are tied back in the most attractive way possible?" [Sidenote: Use of illustrative materials] The curtains have been hung at the two windows in the first-aid room. At one window the curtains are not tied back and come to the bottom of the casing, at the other one they are arranged in two other ways designated as A and B. By the A method the curtain is tied back exactly in half; by the B method it is tied back between one-half and two-thirds of the length. The initial question would probably be: "Which of these two arrangements, A and B, do you think contributes most to the appearance of the window?" [Sidenote: Class discussion] Some of the class will undoubtedly choose A. Their reasons for this choice may be as follows: 1. The uncurtained window space is more or less diamond shaped. 2. The four sections of the curtains are almost exactly alike. Others will choose B, and give such reasons as follows: 1. The window space is less noticeable. 2. There is more variety in the curtains. 3. It is more interesting if the eye can travel down the longer part of the curtain and then come to rest at the part tied back. These reasons will probably lead the majority of the class to decide that B is more desirable than A. At this time another arrangement designated as C may be introduced. For this, one curtain at the second window may now be tied back so near the sill that the two parts do not seem to be related. One designated as D may also be introduced, in which the arrangement is exactly like that of B, except that the curtains are tied back above the center instead of below. A summary of the points which may be brought out by the class on each arrangement of curtains follows: [Sidenote: Summary of class discussion] A, in which the curtains are divided exactly in half, is not interesting for a very long time because-- 1. The divisions on each side as well as above and below the tie backs are all alike. 2. It leaves too much of the window exposed. 3. The window space exposed does not follow the lines of the window. 4. The arrangement becomes tiresome the longer one looks at it. 5. One's curiosity is quickly satisfied when it is obvious that the two areas are exactly alike. B, in which the curtains are tied back between one-half and two-thirds of the length and below the center continues to be interesting because-- 1. The two sides are alike, but the top half is not exactly like the bottom half. This variation makes it more pleasing. 2. Although the top half of each side is larger than the bottom half, it does not look top-heavy because the tying back of the curtain gives a place for the eye to rest. It holds the same amount of attention as the long length of curtain above it. C, in which the tie backs are placed at a point below three-quarters the length of the curtain, is not interesting for any length of time because-- 1. The eye travels very far down the length of the window, then is suddenly interrupted by the tie back. 2. This arrangement is top-heavy. 3. The window space is not pleasing. D is exactly the reverse of B, so it is equally interesting. [Sidenote: Further use of illustrative material] "Suppose we now look at these curtained windows from the outside. Do you think that the arrangements which we decided are most pleasing from the inside are equally pleasing from the outside?" After examining the arrangements of curtains at the windows the pupils may be led to decide that B and D continue to be the most pleasing. "Since we are now agreed that in B and D the tie-backs divide the curtains so that the spaces are most pleasing, would you like to determine just where the division comes in each of the curtains?" Some of the members of the class will be eager to take the measurements and report on them. They will find that in-- [Sidenote: Class determines best division of space] A the division is exactly in the center of the length. B the division comes at a point between one-half and two-thirds of the length. C the division comes at a point more than three-quarters of the length. D the division comes at a point between one-half and two-thirds of the length. At this point it will be well to direct the attention of the class to the possibility of space division in other places. "Do you think that there are spaces, other than windows, which could be satisfactorily divided according to the same measurements?" Members of the class may suggest panels in doors, divisions in dress, and the like. "Marie is making a plain one-piece dress. The narrow belt is to be of the same material. Where would be the best place for her to place the belt?" Try placing a belt on a plain one-piece dress or provide three tracings of such a dress with the belt placed as follows: In one the belt divides the dress in two equal parts. In the second the belt is placed so the skirt is a little longer than the waist. In the third the belt is placed at normal waistline. (With a long skirt this makes the skirt very much longer than the waist.) Measurements may again be taken and compared with the divisions of the window. The class may be led to decide that a plain dress is divided best by a belt which comes some place a little above or below the center of the total length. [Sidenote: Class develops statement of principle for good proportion] "If you wanted to help someone to divide a space so the resulting parts would be pleasing, what directions would you now give them?" Each member of the class may be asked to write out a statement of directions. Some of these may be put on the blackboard and the class members given an opportunity to choose the one which they think would be most helpful in obtaining space division. The final statement should bring out the following: _When a space is to be divided the result is most pleasing if the dividing line falls at a point between one-half and two-thirds of the length divided._ To insure real ability to use the principle of space division which has just been developed, it will be necessary to give the class several problems which they may judge as a group. These in turn should be followed by other problems which will call for individual planning and the application of the principle in their solution. The number of such problems will vary with the class, but there should be enough to insure the desired ability. Furthermore, those given should be from as varied fields as possible so that the pupils will be able to make their own applications as needed. =Series of Suggested Problems to Test Pupils' Ability to Recognize and Use the Principle of Proportion Just Developed= [Sidenote: Judgment problems given for class solution] 1. "In which of these doors do you think the division into panels is most satisfactory? Why?" In this problem, as in the succeeding ones, the solution is not considered adequate unless each pupil can justify the choice she makes or the answer she gives according to the principle which was established in the earlier part of this lesson. 2. "On which of these book covers do you think the space is best divided? Why?" 3. "Small boxes have a variety of uses in our homes. These are all approximately the same in size. Which do you think has the most interesting relation between the depth of the lid and the depth of the box? Why?" 4. "Helen is planning to make a dress with a cape collar. Her mother thinks the collar is not deep enough and suggests that Helen change the pattern. How could she determine the most becoming depth for her cape collar?" 5. "Jane did not have enough cloth to make a dress without piecing it or buying more material. She decided to put a yoke in the waist. How deep on the waist do you think a yoke should come to be most attractive?" 6. "Mary has some 6-inch glass candlesticks at home. How can she determine the length of candle that would be most suitable when they are used on the buffet?" [Sidenote: Creative problem involving activity] 7. "Arrange the window shades so that the window space and the depth of the shade are pleasing in their relation to each other. Justify the arrangement you have made." [Sidenote: Judgment problem involving activity] 8. "Choose a girl with whom to work during the next few minutes. Check to see if the dresses you are wearing to-day have the belts so placed that each dress is divided as well as possible. Suggest any desirable changes for each other and justify each change." (At some time in the development and subsequent use of the principle established in this lesson it will be well to connect it with a previously established and closely related principle. Such a connection is made use of in the following problems.) [Sidenote: Creative problem involving use of a principle previously developed] 9. "I have an odd picture frame that I wish to use for this landscape which came from a magazine illustration. The picture is the right width, but it is too long for the frame. How do you suggest cutting it so that it can be used in this frame and still retain its pleasing proportions?" (Such a landscape will obviously have a division of space in it by the line of the horizon. The problem will be one of retaining pleasing space divisions in the picture, as well as retaining pleasing proportions of the whole, while fitting it to the frame.) [Sidenote: Possible assignment] 10. "Choose a plain card most pleasing in proportion, which may be used as a place card for the home economics luncheon that the class is giving to the mothers. Plan the placing of the names on these cards. Justify your choice of card and the place you have chosen for the name." Problem 10 may well be given as an assignment. It may be given at any desired time in the problem series as a judgment problem following the establishment of the principle. A definite attempt has been made to arrange problems 1 to 8 in order of degree of difficulty. It is evident that those which necessitate creative planning and manipulation call for greater ability than the problems of selection. Although problems 9 and 10 are given last they may be introduced at any point. They are given last here because they require the use of two principles of proportion, i. e., relation of length to width in objects and division of a space into two parts. Problems 1 to 8 make use of only one, i. e., the principle concerned with the division of a space into two parts. =Further Suggestions for Problems, Illustrative Materials, and Assignments= There are various possibilities of introducing this lesson on proportion other than through the arranging of curtains. The curtain problem is used here because it involves a school situation. Such a problem sometimes has as great an appeal for girls as some of the most personal ones. However, any one of a number of problems, such as the placing of a belt on a dress, the depth of a flounce or yoke on a dress, the relative lengths of jacket and skirt in a suit, or the length of candles for candlesticks may be used for the introductory one. Choice will be determined upon class needs and school possibilities. The important factor will be to see that the problem is so stated that it stimulates a desire on the part of the pupil for adequate solution. If the school windows and real curtains are not available for this problem, some window and curtain models may be borrowed from drapery departments of local stores for class use. If it is not practicable to use curtains or to borrow store models, the teacher might prepare in advance of the class meeting miniature windows for this problem. These may be made of heavy construction paper, cardboard, or beaver board, and should be of a size and scale that will permit accuracy in the conclusions drawn from their use. _The use of miniatures should be confined to emergency situations, when the real things are not obtainable._ With some classes it may be necessary to use additional illustrative materials in which there are no other factors than those of space division. The teacher may prepare rectangles of neutral paper, representing any given space to be divided, in which the division is made by a contrasting line in each of the following ways: One divided exactly in half. One with the dividing line between one-half and two-thirds of the length from one end. One with the dividing line at a point three-quarters of the length. One with the dividing line between three-quarters of the entire length and the end. Conclusions drawn from a comparison of the above illustrative materials may in turn be applied to other problems in which color, texture, or design may have made it difficult in the beginning for the pupils to focus their attention upon space division. It is obvious that if choosing candles for certain definite candlesticks is the introductory problem, candles of varying heights, but of the same color, will need to be provided if the class is to come to some definite conclusions. If this problem is used in the judgment series, as in the lesson above, it will serve as another application of the principles of space division. One possible assignment has been given in the lesson. Other possibilities present themselves as follows: 1. "Where could you find an illustration in which you think there is particularly pleasing space division? Will you bring such an illustration to class?" Such an assignment affords additional training in selection and directs the observation of the pupils to their environment outside the school. 2. "When you are at home to-night, will you notice the arrangement of articles on your dresser? If these articles are not as well arranged as you think they can be, make an arrangement which is balanced and which divides the space as well as possible. Be ready to tell the class why you think you have a well-balanced and nicely spaced arrangement." In this particular assignment it is assumed that pupils have previously developed the ability to make balanced arrangements. This is a further application of that ability but in an advanced form. In developing an ability to make balanced arrangements, attention was centered on the placing of articles on either side of a center. Now that the ability to divide a space has been developed, it is time to take up the balancing of articles within a given space so that the proportions of that space are pleasing. It is highly desirable in the teaching of art that the relationships of principles in the attainment of beauty be established as soon as each is clearly understood. It is not enough that a principle be clearly established and several applications of it made. As soon as this much has been accomplished it is time that problems be used which involve this new principle and at least one of the preceding ones. Such a cumulative teaching plan is essential to make art training function most successfully in the lives of the pupils. CLASS PROJECTS Many judgment and creative problems arise in certain group and class projects, providing opportunity for utilizing and showing the relationships of the essential principles of art in their application. They are more often undertaken in connection with home furnishing than with other phases of homemaking. Provision for such projects involving the selection of articles and materials and the arrangement of them to bring about an attractive and harmonious effect can usually be found right in the school. For example, as a class project, the wall finishes, the furnishings, and the accessories may be chosen and arranged for a specific room such as the dining room, bedroom, or living room of the home-economics department if such rooms are available or the rest room for teachers or girls. In some schools, the separate cottage is used to house the home-economics department. This offers an opportunity for pupils to show what they would do under practical conditions. It is important that the furnishings for such cottages be in keeping with what is possible in the majority of homes in the community. If when the cottage is new the teacher plans with the pupils for only the essential furnishings at first, further problems of selection and arrangement will be reserved for several classes. In a few schools the home-economics department has cooperated with the trade and industrial department in planning small houses, which were then built by the boys in their carpentry classes. The girls have then selected and arranged the furnishings for such houses as a class project. When there is no opportunity within the school for such class or group projects, there are other available possibilities to which a teacher of related art should be alert. Better Homes Week is observed in many towns and cities and those in charge are usually glad to turn over the furnishing of one or more rooms for the occasion to the local home-economics department. A center to which so many visitors come affords an excellent opportunity for exemplifying to the community good taste in furnishings at a cost consistent with the income of the average family. In one school the related art class took over the project of refinishing one of the rooms in the girls' dormitory. It was necessary to use the furniture already provided, which meant the expenditure of a minimum amount of money. There was, therefore, the problem of refinishing some of the furniture to bring it into harmony with the newly planned room. The old dresser was one of the pieces to be remodeled and painted. Figures 9 and 10 show the dresser before and after the class had worked on it. [Illustration: Figure 9.--The dresser as found in the dormitory room] [Illustration: Figure 10.--The same dresser after the class in related art had remodeled and painted it] In a few instances, homemakers have entrusted the furnishing of rooms in their homes to the related art class. Thus it is seen that a variety of opportunities do exist. They should be located and such use made of them as will mean the enrichment and vitalization of the work in related art. NOTEBOOKS In the limited time usually allotted for the teaching of art related to the home the teacher is confronted with the problem of how to make the best utilization of that time. One of the first questions which must be decided is whether a portion of it shall be devoted to the making of notebooks. In analyzing the situation she will need to determine the purposes which they serve. The notebooks may be justified on the ground that they-- 1. Provide a collection of illustrative and written materials which pupils may have for future use. 2. Provide a classroom activity through which pupils learn. 3. Measure pupil ability to recognize art applications through the selection of pertinent illustrations. 4. May supplement or be used in place of a class text. 5. Provide material for the school exhibit. 6. Insure material for competitive purposes at county and State fairs. 7. Maintain interest. Answering the following questions may serve to determine whether notebooks are of value to the pupil: 1. Does the notebook provide for worthwhile individual experience? 2. Will it pay in terms of time and energy expended? 3. What is the ultimate use of it? The following chart may serve to aid the teacher in judging whether notebooks are justified: Chart 2.--_Analysis of the value of notebooks in art courses_ -----------------+----------------------------------------------------------- | Value Purposes of +--------------------+-------------------+------------------ notebook | In terms of | In terms of time | In terms of | worth-while | and energy | ultimate use | individual | consumed | of notebook | experience | | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ 1. To provide a | To the extent that | Usually more | Notebooks may be collection of | the activities | time and energy | exhibited, but material for | involved exercise | consumed than | beyond that later pupil | individual | later use | experience seems use. | judgment. | justifies. This | to indicate that | | is dependent upon| few girls or | | the degree of | women use them | | elaborateness of | later in home | | the notebook. | life as a source | | Copying, tracing,| of information. | | and pasting | | | are very | | | time-consuming. | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ 2. To provide | To the extent that | Both may be well | It may train classroom | the activities | spent, provided | pupils to be activity | involved provide | the evaluation | observant and through which | opportunity for | in (1) is kept | critical and pupil learns. | exercising | in mind and if | thus aid in | selection. | much of the | making wiser | | mechanical work | choices in | | is done outside | real life. | | of class. | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ 3. To measure | To the extent | A justifiable | After selections pupil's | to which the | use of time and | have been made ability to | activities give | energy, provided | they are of no recognize art | added opportunity | the emphasis | use later as applications | for making | is on making | a measuring in the | independent | selection and | device. selection of | choices and offer | the mechanical | pertinent | opportunity for | processes are | illustrations.| students to | minimized. | | recognize and | | | select additional | | | applications to | | | those given in | | | class. | | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ 4. To supplement | There is little | It is not | Pupil may use it or use in | opportunity | justifiable use | for review in place of a | for individual | of pupil's time | organizing class text. | experience | to compile text | subject matter | in writing a | material which | of the course | notebook, since | should be made | for examination. | the material is | available to | Beyond this, | usually dictated | them through | probably little | or copied from | other channels. | use is ever made | references. With | | of it. | the present | | | available | | | facilities for | | | reproduction of | | | printed | | | information there | | | is little excuse | | | for this | | | procedure. | | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ 5. To provide | Not a justifiable | Time and energy | No use except materials | objective. It | consumed do | for some proud for school | develops a sense | not justify | relative to show exhibits. | of false value. | preparing | to friends the | Some judgment is | notebooks for | notebook that | undoubtedly | this purpose | has won special | developed, but | alone. Time so | recognition. | the competitive | used may mean | | spirit so far | sacrificing | | exceeds the | opportunities | | desire to | for the | | learn that the | development and | | experience is | use of judgment | | frequently | in real-life | | unfortunate to | situations. | | the individual. | | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ 6. To insure | See (5) above. | See (5) above. | See (5) above. material for | | | competitive | | | purposes at | | | county and | | | State fairs. | | | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ 7. To maintain | To the extent that | An expensive use | Of little value interest. | the pupils are | of time and | since notebooks | permitted to use | energy, since | are usually | some originality | interest may be | stored away | or initiative in | obtained in so | and forgotten. | choosing material | many quicker and | | and compiling it, | easier ways. | | interest may be | If there is | | maintained. | seemingly greater| | | interest it is | | | probably in the | | | manipulative | | | processes rather | | | than in art | | | itself. | -----------------+--------------------+-------------------+------------------ In the light of the analysis of their value it would seem that the use of notebooks should be carefully considered before they are given any place in the teaching of art related to the home. If used at all, they should not be the objective of the course but the voluntary effort of the pupils in attaining other objectives and should take a minimum of class time. From the standpoint of time alone there is certainly a question as to how much routine work in cutting, pasting, or writing should be permitted. The teacher not only has a responsibility for teaching but for the most efficient teaching at a minimum cost in time and energy to the pupil. The immediate and ultimate uses of collected materials should be the most important criteria as to kind and amount. When the pupils have an opportunity to choose illustrations which show good application of art they are not only developing their powers of discrimination but are revealing the degree to which these powers have been developed. Some practices in judgment are valuable and probably sufficient in themselves. For instance, when a pupil selects two or three good examples of rhythmic movement in design she will have developed a finer feeling for rhythm and will have demonstrated her recognition of it. Of what value would it be for her to make a permanent record of these illustrations? There are other selections that may be of more permanent value, such as pictures chosen to illustrate some art application. When these are mounted or framed attractively they make desirable additions to the girl's room and home. Illustrations suggestive of new and interesting ways of applying trimming, or of arrangements for dressing table covers, window draperies, and similar materials are also of more permanent value. They may serve the immediate purpose of illustration in the art class and then be made available for later use if they are filed in some way. One of the most satisfactory means of keeping such materials is in large envelopes or portfolios. These may be provided at small expenditure of time and money by using heavy wrapping or construction paper. The latter may be made very simply by cutting and folding the paper to form a double-pocket envelope. Rather than encourage the notebook type of collection of magazine illustrations and samples of materials, the teacher may interest the girls and women in selecting simple articles that may be used in their own homes and will give lasting enjoyment. If a notebook or portfolio is to be used for keeping certain records for later reference, the requirements for it should be limited to those which are easily attainable by all members of the class. However, this does not suggest a restriction of the efforts of the especially-talented pupil. Each page of the simplest notebook offers opportunity for the application of art principles in the planning of good margins, as well as in making attractive groupings of illustrations on mounted and written pages. It would seem desirable to discourage the elaborately decorated type of notebook covers because they consume considerable time for making and have such a temporary use. Portfolios well constructed and of lasting quality may be used later for keeping choice, unmounted pictures, or photographs. THE PLACE OF LABORATORY PROBLEMS The "laboratory problem" is a term quite generally used to designate a problem which is carried on within the classroom and involves some pupil activity. Such problems may involve judgment, a combination of judgment and manipulative skills, or a combination of judgment and creative thinking with some manipulation. They may be used to discover a law or principle, to verify a conclusion, or to test the judgment and creative ability of the pupils. The term as it is used here is restricted to the type of problem which involves judgment in selection, creative planning, and careful manipulation of materials for successful completion. Such problems are frequently known as craft problems. Since this type of problem involves so many kinds of ability it is evident that it can not be introduced too early in the course if it is to be executed successfully by the pupils. To the degree that judgment ability in selection has been developed and there has been opportunity to do creative thinking, the pupils will be able to carry out such problems more independently. This does not mean that all laboratory problems are to be reserved until the end of the course, but it suggests that each problem be considered carefully to determine if the pupils' preceding training has been adequate. For example, posters may be undertaken much earlier than a problem in tie dyeing. The main requirement for successful posters is an ability to use the principles of proportion and emphasis. A problem in tie dyeing to be successful should be preceded by an understanding of the use of the principles of proportion, balance, and harmony as well as of color. The successful laboratory or craft problem provides a measure of the pupil's judgment and creative ability; an opportunity for manipulative expression; and a means of producing something that should contribute to the beauty of the home. The pupil should visualize each finished article in its place in relation to the whole scheme of the room or home. The making of articles for which there is no definite need or place in the girl's home can hardly be justified in school time. The use of those materials in laboratory problems with which the pupils will need to work later is considered the more valuable experience. For example, experience in working with dyes rather than with water colors or paints will be more useful to the average girl, for in her home she is more often confronted with the problem of renewing color in underwear or other garments or changing the color of curtains to fit in with the new color scheme of her room than with problems necessitating the use of water color or paints. Laboratory problems that are well selected and wisely directed will result in one or more of three values: 1. Pupils may have a better appreciation of fitness and purpose. 2. Pupils may have a greater desire to own and use beautiful things. 3. Pupils may have a greater appreciation for possibilities of beauty in the simple things. With these possible values in mind the teacher will need to determine which of the many laboratory problems can be used most effectively. The following standards are offered as a basis for evaluating the various possibilities for such laboratory problems: 1. _Time._--This is probably the most important factor because, in the first place, many laboratory problems are far too time consuming, and, in the second place, the total time allotment for an art course is usually limited in the vocational program in homemaking. _Every article which can be justified for a school problem should require a relatively small amount of time and few repetitive practices._ 2. _Ultimate use of the article._--This is a factor which is often lost sight of and as a result girls make ruffled organdy or embroidered or quilted silk pillows for which they have no real use. _Every article should be evaluated in terms of its relation to use and surroundings and be chosen for a specific place._ 3. _Structural quality of the article._--"Structural design is the design made by the size and shape of the object."[24] Laboratory problems involving structural design afford opportunity to make use of several art principles, but to bring about structural beauty the pupil must have achieved real ability to use these principles. _Every article should meet the fundamental requirements of good design._ 4. _Suitable decoration for the article._--"Decorative design is the surface enrichment of a structural design." Too often decoration has failed to contribute to the appearance or to the utility of the article. _Decoration, if any is used, should make a lasting contribution rather than a temporary appeal._ 5. _Good technique._--An article may be well planned, with good design and pleasing decoration, and may be one that would not require too much time in the making, but the finished product may not be acceptable because of poor technique. _Laboratory problems should require only that type of technique which can be achieved successfully by the pupil._ The ultimate purpose of this particular part of the training in art related to the home is to enable girls and women to make selections for their homes that will contribute to their attractiveness rather than to produce artisans in the various crafts. Therefore the selection of class laboratory problems must be made most carefully. The teacher will need to emphasize repeatedly the importance of structural value, as well as the utility of articles if the pupils are to appreciate these qualities as more fundamental than decoration. Difficult situations often arise as a result of poor choices on the part of pupils for their laboratory problems or for the decoration of articles to be made. Great tact is required in leading pupils to see that such choices are poor without offending them. It sometimes means slow progress and waiting until the class judgment brings out opinions that may have more weight than those of the teacher. It is more effective for a teacher to allow a pupil to proceed through the "trial and error" method than to completely discourage the making of the poorly-chosen article. However, the successful teacher must evaluate each situation in light of the cost in time and money and the effect that failure would have upon the individual pupil. The most important consideration is that out of the experience the pupil will progress toward the desired objectives. The "trial and error" procedure is well illustrated in the following report of a Wisconsin high school teacher: Related art is taught in all units but is taken up in detail for the first time in the sophomore year in home furnishing and decoration, wardrobe planning, and the Christmas gift unit. Most of the girls come from very poor homes; and the prevailing idea of beauty is largely artificial flowers or large framed family photographs. The aim in the related art work has been to help the girls use the things they already have and to appreciate beauty in the things they own and have the opportunity to buy or see. The following problem arose in the sophomore class of 27 girls in the home furnishing and wardrobe planning unit: The girls were to make Christmas gifts in which their knowledge of design and construction was to be applied. The gifts were to be for some particular member of the family or friends. After deciding what they were to make they planned the design and colors. Some of the girls used yarn or bias tape designs on theatrical gauze or monk's cloth, making scarfs, pillows, curtains, davenport covers, or couch covers. Others made collar and cuff sets, aprons, underwear, towels, laundry bags, pan holders, or passe partout pictures. Elva came to school with a blue bird panholder to embroider in many colors as her gift to a married sister. I told her it would take much time and I wondered if it were worth while putting the time on a panholder. I asked her if the design were appropriate, and she said she liked it better than the plain quilted holders. I did not know what to do as I did not want her to spend time on such a foolish and inappropriate article but decided that she might be convinced of her poor choice after making it so I allowed her to work on the holder, giving her help as needed, but no encouragement as to the beauty of the holder. In order that the others in the class might be more convinced concerning some of the things we had discussed in our related art from this holder, I asked each girl to keep accurate account of time spent in making the gifts. The girls who were making plain holders had finished a set of them and at least one other simple gift while Elva continued embroidering on her holder. Everyone was much interested in all of the gifts and made many comments. Although none but Elva knew my views, she received no class approval or bursts of enthusiasm over her holder, and one girl even ventured to ask her if she thought her holder was good design. Finally the gifts were finished, and each girl exhibited her work, criticizing it both constructively and adversely. Finally it was Elva's turn. It was a pleasant surprise when she said: "I spent 6-1/2 hours of time on this one holder, and I don't like it now. I could have made six plain ones, and they would have been better in design and served the purpose better than this one will. I don't think my sister will appreciate this holder more or maybe as much as one of the others." The class did not take exception to her criticism, and we then evaluated the design, appropriateness, and time spent on it. The class decided Elva was right in her conclusions that she had made a mistake. As most of the girls were giving their gifts to persons in the community, we discussed placing and use of the various gifts, and the girls decided that after Christmas they would tell how or where the gifts were being used. When this time came and Elva reported, she said the panholder had surely been used and was so badly scorched that you couldn't even see the design that took 6-1/2 hours. Several laboratory problems which teachers have used in art classes are here presented. In the light of the standards which are offered as a basis for determining what problems shall be chosen, they are discussed briefly as to their educational possibilities. The order in which they are listed is alphabetical and not suggestive of importance in ranking. 1. _Block printing._--If the designs are so simple that the girl learns how to adapt similar simple designs to other things for her home, this problem may have value in such a course. In addition, the girl is acquiring a wall hanging or a table cover that will have an appropriate place in her home. Such simple blocks may be kept for using on a variety of articles for gifts which the girl can make at very little expense and in a short time. The "stick printing" also offers some opportunity for adapting designs. 2. _Fabric or yarn flowers for the wardrobe._--If such articles are made of appropriate materials, there is opportunity for girls to exercise judgment in the selection of colors, textures, and combinations that are suited for their use on special garments. 3. _Hand stitchery (embroidery, hemstitching, fagoting, and quilting)._--In so far as the pupils can justify the use of hand stitchery for a particular article or garment and then confine their efforts to the choosing and adapting of designs, to the planning of color combinations and to the doing of just enough of the stitchery to learn the process, stitchery problems may have a place in the art course. The actual repetition of stitches is too time consuming for class practice. Unless the pupils will finish such problems outside of class some others would better be chosen. There is an opportunity through stitchery problems to show girls how a bit of appropriate handwork may be applied to an inexpensive ready-made garment, thereby enhancing its attractiveness and value. 4. _Lamp shades._--Lamp shades may be individual class problems if the pupils have real need for them. If made in class the educational value comes through planning the size and shape, choosing suitable and inexpensive materials, and adapting appropriate designs to them. 5. _Lettering._--Since in many real situations in life one is requested to print one's name, it would seem desirable to include some very simple straight-line printing problems. 6. _Marbleized paper._--This is a possible class exercise which involves the handling of colors. Such papers may be utilized as wrapping for gifts, book covers, desk sets, or portfolios. 7. _Painting furniture._--There will probably be little opportunity or need for the actual carrying out of such a laboratory problem in the beginning course in art related to the home, but it may be used successfully in a later unit in home furnishing or in a home project. The educational value in painting furniture is confined to the choice of finish and color and in learning the manipulative processes. The actual painting of many pieces is too time consuming to be done at school and too laborious for young girls to do unassisted at home. 8. _Place cards._--The choice of size and shape of card and the placing of the name on it are the important factors in using plain place cards. Here is an opportunity for girls to make use of straight-line letters. In selecting and making decorated place cards, suitability to purpose and kind and amount of decoration are other factors that need to be considered. 9. _Portfolios._--Simple portfolios may be appropriately used as class problems provided the pupils have a need for them. They afford opportunity for the application of the principles of proportion, emphasis, and harmony as well as of color. If decoration is to be used, it should be simple and suited to the material of which the portfolio is made and to its intended use. 10. _Posters._--When the need for posters arises, a related art class may profit by applying their knowledge of color, emphasis, and space arrangement in making them. For a simple yet attractive poster, a well-mounted picture which suggests the story with one or two lines of lettering may be grouped to form a unit. This takes but a short time. For those students having difficulty in making the straight-line letters in crayon or ink, the gummed or cut letters may be used, or a school stamp lettering press may be utilized. 11. _Rug hooking._--The educational value of this problem is in the selection and adaptation of designs and colors to the spaces and materials used. Beyond this point it is largely repetitive manipulation; and unless girls want to finish rugs outside of class, and will have an opportunity to do so, such work should be discouraged. 12. _Tie dyeing._--If good dyes are procurable and the exercise is limited to using a few hues, tie dyeing may be desirable from the standpoint of developing ability to combine colors successfully and to the fitting of the design to the shape of the piece dyed. If used as a class problem, special attention needs to be given to the adaptation of design to the space. This means careful preparation of the material for the dye bath. Wise planning for the desired color effects is also essential. Shaded dyeing offers an interesting opportunity for further use of color. The problem involves the recognition of interesting ranges of values and the determination of pleasing space relations for those values. It has been suggested previously that handling dyes would be a more valuable experience to girls than using paints or water colors. However, to insure success, dyes of standard quality should be selected and carefully prepared. Soft water has been found best for most dyes. A soft, loosely woven material without dressing is typical of the fabrics that are most frequently dyed at home and may well be used at school. Carefully dyed yard or half-yard lengths of cheese cloth have been found valuable in supplementing other fabrics in the study of color. The experience girls gain in mixing and handling the dyes for these short length pieces has been deemed by some teachers as far more valuable than that gained through making flat washes for a color chart as a means of understanding colors and their relationships. Much time is usually lost in having pupils attempt to mix paints for flat washes for the various hues of color charts. The purpose of making color charts is to provide the girls with a guide for recognizing and combining colors. Many teachers have found that a more successful method is to have the pupils arrange colored fabrics or papers in the order of their hue relationship. It has not been considered necessary for each pupil to do this, since the ability to recognize hues and their relationships may be equally well achieved through working in groups. A large chart of standard hues provided by the teacher will be valuable in developing understanding of color. 13. _Weaving._--This problem requires a loom, and for the small amount of weaving that should be done in school and in view of future needs, the teacher is seldom justified in asking for such a piece of equipment. Book ends, trays, and candlesticks are essential articles from the standpoint of utility and well-selected ones are valuable as illustrative material in the development of good judgment in their selection and arrangement. When these articles are used as laboratory problems, special care should be taken to avoid placing the emphasis upon decoration. There are no doubt other problems that may be used successfully. However, only those should be chosen that will supplement the art training advantageously and that will measure up to the five suggested standards on pages 47-48, which, stated in more specific terms, are-- 1. Every article should require a relatively small amount of time and few repetitive practices. 2. Every article should be evaluated in terms of its relation to use and surroundings and chosen for a specific place. 3. Every article should meet the fundamental requirements of good design. 4. Decoration, if any is used, should make a lasting contribution rather than a temporary appeal. 5. All problems should require only that technique which can be achieved successfully by the pupils. FIELD TRIPS Field trips in some form have been used to quite an extent in the teaching of many subjects and have been undertaken for a variety of reasons. In the teaching of art the purpose may be fourfold: 1. To stimulate interest in beauty. 2. To provide contact with materials and articles as they are to be found in life. 3. To extend information. 4. To provide additional opportunity for exercising judgment. Unless the trips to be made by the class are planned carefully they may become merely freedom from regular school routine. If the group has an opportunity to help plan the trip, including the route to be taken, the points of interest to be looked for and reported upon at the next regular meeting of the class, the conduct to be maintained on the trip, and the courtesy due the homemaker or the merchant or the business man who is cooperating with the class visit, there is bound to be greater interest and concentration upon the trip with more beneficial results. Trips taken very early in the unit or course can do little more than serve as a means of stimulating interest in the new phase of work. Trips taken later may be used to verify conclusions and develop judgment in making selections as well as to create broader interests. One class in a study of clothing selection made several trips to the local stores. The first one was preceded by a study of surface pattern in dress fabrics from the standpoint of the effect of design and color upon the appearance of the wearer. The trip to the local stores was made to determine which of the wash dresses exhibited in three store windows best met the standards which the class had set up for such a dress. The standards were as follows: 1. The style or design of the dress should be suited to the kind of fabric and the surface pattern of it. 2. The trimming should be in harmony with the construction lines and the color of the dress. 3. The surface pattern of the material should be one of which the wearer and her friends would not soon tire. In this particular case, since the class was small and the trip included only window shopping, some discussion was carried on in the group as they stood outside of the display windows. At a little later time the same class was taken to the stores on a shopping trip. Each pupil was asked to select material for two dresses for one of her classmates, one to be for a washable school dress and the other for a "dress-up" dress. The materials were to be selected from the standpoint of color and design for the individual and of suitability for the type of dress. The procedure set up by the class previous to the trip was to work quietly and independently at the store and to refrain from saying why they did or did not like various things they saw there. When each girl had made her selections she was to ask the clerk for small samples and to be sure that the rest of the class saw the large pieces from which she had made her selections. During the next class period each girl exhibited her samples and justified the choices she had made. The girl for whom the selections had been made was given an opportunity to express her opinion, and the remainder of the group were encouraged to comment upon the proposed materials. When these pupils later had the problem of selecting materials for the new spring dresses they had decided to make in class, there were many evidences that the experience gained on the trips to the stores had been of real value to them. In the study of accessories for the spring dress this class had another window-shopping trip which followed a lesson on the selection of shoes. The purpose of this trip was to see what effect trimming lines had upon the apparent width and length of the shoes and to choose from those displayed in the windows the style of shoe that would be most suitable for some member of their class to wear with a dress she had made or purchased. Field trips that have a definite purpose and are well planned and arranged for in advance can make valuable contributions to the classroom training in art. If a class is to be taken on a trip to a store, to visit a home in the community, or to an industrial plant it is only courteous and an evidence of good management for the teacher to obtain permission and make necessary arrangements with the merchant, the homemaker, or the manager far enough in advance to avoid conflict in time and to plan in accordance with their most convenient time for visitors. MEASURING RESULTS How can the degree to which art training is functioning in the lives of the girls and women be determined? It is fully as important for the teacher to evaluate results of her teaching as to plan for it carefully. This has been commonly recognized as a definite part of teaching, but the procedure has been largely limited to the giving of written tests. Such tests have usually been of the type that measure factual information and have probably failed to indicate the degree to which the student's life has been improved by her use of the art information. Tests which are thought provoking and the solving of school problems are both valuable measures, but they are not sufficient in themselves for testing art. They fail to reveal whether or not the girl is making voluntary and satisfactory art applications or appreciating beauty to any greater extent in her everyday life. Whitford[25] refers to outcomes as follows: Two significant and fundamental outcomes of art education are revealed by an analysis of the relation of this subject to the social and occupational life of the pupil. These are, first, ability to recognize and appreciate art quality and to apply this ability to the needs of everyday life; and, secondly, ability to produce art quality even though in a relatively elementary form. When art has been effectively taught there are many tangible evidences of its functioning in the personal and home life of the girl. What are some of these tangible evidences that indicate successful art training? The outstanding ones may be found in the girl's appearance at school and in the choice and arrangement of furnishings in her room and home. =Evidences of the Successful Functioning of Art in the Classroom= Improved personal appearance of pupils may manifest itself in their selection of ensembles from garments already possessed or from newly selected garments from the standpoint of-- 1. Color combinations. 2. Texture combinations. 3. Appropriateness of clothing for school. 4. Appropriateness of style of garments to the girl. 5. Appropriateness of accessories. The story of freckled-faced Mary well illustrates how art did function in one girl's life. She was an unmistakably plain high-school girl. Her hair was red, her face freckled, and her nose decidedly retroussé. Her clothes of gaudy colors never fitted and always seemed to emphasize her personal deficiencies. But one day a new teacher came to the school, whose business it was to teach home economics, and into her hands Mary, mercifully, came. A few months later the State supervisor of home economics, a close observer, visited the school, and her attention was soon drawn to Mary, not as the worst-looking girl in the school but as one of the best-looking girls in the school. Soft, becoming colors, good lines, and a suitable style of garments had brought out the best tints in her red hair, softened the freckles, and transformed a plain girl into an attractive one. All of this had been accomplished as an indirect objective of the teacher in her related art instruction in home economics. Mary had unconsciously learned that beauty is, after all, a relative term in regard to individual objects and that it is the setting that gives grace and charm. Unless the teacher is on the alert some interesting evidences of successful teaching may go unnoticed. Some of the changes in the pupil's appearance come about gradually and without audible comment. Such was the case in one class. Most of the year Betty had been wearing an old 1-piece wool dress. During the winter she had worn a belt of the dress material at a low waistline, so that the belt covered the line at which the pleats were stitched to the dress. Early in the spring, and, as it happened, near the beginning of the art unit, Betty evidently became much interested in the styles that advocated a return of the normal waistlines and succumbed to the appeal of the new leather belts in the store window. For several days she proudly wore a wide leather belt fairly tight and high, with this straight flannel dress, all unconscious of the fullness bunching above the belt, the poor proportions of the dress, and the poorly finished seam where the pleats were joined to the dress. After some time had been spent on the art unit in which no direct reference had been made to Betty's belt, the teacher was very much pleased one morning to notice that Betty had taken in the side seams of her dress to remove some of the fullness and was wearing the leather belt a little more loosely and somewhat lower, so that the space divisions of the dress were more pleasing. Is there a better evidence of successful art training than that which shows that the pupil is able to adapt in an attractive way the garments of her present wardrobe so that they measure up to the individual's desire to be up to date? A Kansas teacher reports that she overhears comments among girls before and after school which reveal evidences that art is influencing tastes. Here are some examples of these comments: That color is too bright for her. That particular green dress makes her skin look yellow. Those beads harmonize beautifully with that dress. She is one girl who should not wear her belt high. It makes her look so short and dumpy. I have given my sister my colored scarf, which I now realize clashed with everything I had, but fits in with her things. Better pupil contributions to class work constitute another evidence of the effectiveness of art instruction. These manifest themselves in-- 1. Voluntary reports and comments of observations and experiences. 2. The bringing in of illustrative material for class and bulletin board use. 3. The asking of relevant questions. Some of these may be evidenced outside the regular class period. This was true in the case of Joan, a high-school freshman in an art class, who had been rather unwilling at times to accept the art standards set up by the rest of the class. Her argument was, "What difference does it make? Why can't everyone select just the things she likes?" Very little attention was definitely directed to her for she would sulk if pressed for a reason to justify her statement that everyone should choose as she liked. One Monday morning the teacher, upon her arrival at school, found Joan waiting in the classroom to tell her of the shopping trip she had had with her mother on Saturday. Joan had selected a red silk dress which she and her mother had both liked. After going home Joan had begun to wonder if the dress would look all right with her last year's coat and hat and wanted to know what kind of hose would be best to wear with the dress. This teacher could well feel that her art teaching was developing in Joan a real interest in art. Assumption of greater responsibility by the pupils for more attractive arrangements at school contribute another evidence of the effectiveness of art instruction. This may manifest itself in the arrangement of-- 1. Articles on tables, buffets, or bookcases. 2. Flowers in suitable bowls. 3. Books and magazines. 4. Exhibit cabinets. 5. Stage settings for class plays. Still another criterium of the effectiveness of art instruction is the spread of interest in the work from home economics pupils to others in the school. A teacher of related art in Missouri says: One of the most striking and pleasing evidences of art's carrying over is the fact that so many girls outside of the home-economics department come in and ask questions regarding some of our pupils' clothing or ask to see the art work done here. The seniors in the teacher-training department are especially interested, as they expect to teach art in the rural schools and have had practically no work in it. =Evidences of the Successful Functioning of Art in the Home= One of the most gratifying results of art teaching is the influence it creates in improving the homes of the community. This may be seen through-- 1. More attractive arrangements and rearrangements of furniture, rugs, pictures, and accessories. 2. Elimination of unnecessary bric-a-brac. 3. More suitable use of color. 4. More appropriate choice of textiles and texture combinations. 5. Improved selection and care of shrubbery, hedges, and flower beds. Removal of unnatural or grotesque shapes. 6. Improvements in walks, trellises, fences, and gates to make them more suitable for house and grounds. A teacher in a vocational school in North Dakota reports as follows: One of the most valuable evidences of improved practices that I see from our art work is the girls' appreciation of things that are beautiful and their desire to acquire a few truly beautiful things for their own rooms and homes. An itinerant teacher trainer describes a lesson in related art which she observed. It is given here for its very practical suggestion of a means for measuring results of teaching: The day before my visit the teacher had taken all the girls of her class to a city about 18 miles away to purchase Christmas gifts for their mothers. The girls had limited themselves as to possible types of gifts within their limited means and at the same time suitable for their mothers. Only one gift cost more than $1 and that was the joint gift of two sisters to their mother. The class had agreed that each gift should be of such nature that the application of art principles studied would be involved in making a choice. They had practically confined themselves to pictures, beads, book ends, or vases. All of the gifts had been brought to the home-economics rooms for storage until the Christmas tea when they would be presented to the mothers. The girls brought out all their purchases and all entered into the judging without false modesty. In some cases the purchasers were able to suggest improvements in future purchases. The entire group showed unusual poise, self-confidence, and good judgment, as well as tact, in making suggestions. The new problem arising from this lesson of designing an invitation to the annual Christmas tea for the mothers was a very real one to the girls. The principles of balance were taught and applied, and the girls decided on a design for the invitation. Various tests and problems may also serve to measure the results of art teaching. A description of the test which was used at the end of one art unit, as a basis for determining the use the pupils were able to make of that training, is here included. It is hoped that this plan may prove suggestive to other teachers. The test was given at the close of an art unit which had been conducted according to the method described earlier in this section. (See Section IV, pp. 34 to 42.) The class consisted of ninth-grade girls and met for daily class periods, 80 minutes in length. At the beginning of the period on this day the teacher told the class that the first part of the period was to be devoted to a make-believe shopping trip. In this test, cost was not a factor but the material used did not include too wide a range in values. Slips with the names of the articles for which they were to shop and directions were prepared. Some of the shopping was to be done individually and some of it by groups. When all were finished the shoppers were to meet in the classroom and be given an opportunity to see all of the "purchases" and to know why each selection had been made. The slips were then passed out from which the pupils were to draw. The directions for procedure on the slips were as follows: 1. Select from the box of scarfs the one you think would be most suitable to wear with the blue coat that is in the clothing room. (Three girls drew copies of this slip and worked together in choosing the scarf and justifying the final choice.) 2. For the plain tailored flannel school dress hanging in the clothing room, select a scarf or some appropriate accessory which could be worn with the dress to introduce variety. (Three girls worked on this shopping problem.) 3. Mrs. B. wishes to use this colored picture and these blue-green pottery candlesticks in an arrangement on her mantel. She does not know what color of candles to buy. She is afraid that if she uses blue-green candles the color combination will be monotonous. Which of these candles would you suggest? Why? (There was considerable variation in the candles provided. In addition to several hues from which to select there were plain as well as decorated candles, and some variations in length. Two girls made this selection.) 4. Suppose your bedroom were a small one and had but one window in it. Select from these samples the wallpaper design that you think would make the room look larger and the material to use for draperies in the room. (A large wallpaper sample book and several samples of plain and figured fabrics in a variety of colors were provided for the two girls who did this shopping.) 5. You are to have a new print dress. Which of these pieces of material would you choose as having the most rhythmic design? Which trimming material do you think would be best to use with it? (Several samples of printed materials were pinned together and each pupil who drew a copy of this slip was given a separate set from which to choose. Bias tape, braid, and lace, as well as plain and printed fabrics, were provided for trimmings.) 6. Choose from these printed fabrics the one that you think would be most suited in color and design for some member of this class. Tell for whom you have made the selection, justify your choice, and suggest the trimming that you think would be most appropriate. (The selections were made from a miscellaneous group of samples, printed and plain materials in a variety of colors.) 7. From colored fabrics plan three color combinations that could be used for a dress. Describe the combinations that you have used in each as to hue, value, and intensity, indicating areas of each color and justify their use together. (An assortment of fabrics separate from those used by other pupils was prepared for this group to save time and to enable the pupils to work independently. If fabrics are not available, papers may be used, although colors are never the same as in fabrics.) As soon as the "purchases" were all completed the pupils individually or as group representatives, exhibited the selections to the class and gave the reasons justifying each choice. The entire class participated in commending or criticizing the selections made and the reasons given. Here the teacher was able not only to measure the individual's ability to solve a given problem but to observe how readily the pupils could recognize desirable selections and offer correct art reasons as the basis for those selections. Immediately following the reports, the pupils took their places around the tables in the clothing laboratory, and the remainder of the period was devoted to individual and written judgments of materials which were passed around the class. This material was numbered, and to each piece was attached a slip of paper containing suggestive questions and directions as follows: 1. To which of these mounted pictures do you think the margins are best suited? Why? (The pictures cut from magazines were suitable for the classroom or a girl's room and were mounted on a neutral construction paper. Only one had margins suited to the size and shape of the picture.) 2. Which of these stamped and addressed envelopes do you think has the most pleasing margins? Why? (Several envelopes differing in size and shape were addressed and stamped in a variety of ways.) 3. Which of these dress designs are balanced? Select one that you have decided is not balanced and suggest the changes necessary to make it so. (Illustrations of several dress designs that the pupils themselves might use were chosen from a current fashion sheet and were mounted and numbered. Attention was first focused on the designs which were balanced and then on the possibility of improving those that were not balanced.) 4. In which of these pieces of china do you think the design is in harmony with the shape of the dish and would make a suitable background for food? Justify your choice. (In the absence of real china, magazine advertisements of china furnished the necessary examples from the standpoint of color and design.) 5. Which of these three border designs has rhythm made most beautiful? Why? (Advertisements of towels with borders furnished the designs.) 6. Is this calendar pleasing in proportion? Give reasons for your answer. (The calendar was quite a long rectangle in shape, but the margins were well suited to it, and the entire space was well divided.) 7. What in this picture catches your attention first? How has the artist emphasized it? (The picture used was one taken from a magazine cover and was a copy of a painting of recognized merit.) 8. Which of these fabrics has the most pleasing combination of stripes? Why is that piece more pleasing than the other two? (Cotton materials were provided with stripes varying from those that were regularly repeated at intervals as wide as the stripes, to those in which there was an interesting grouping of stripes of varying widths.) 9. Which of the containers pictured in this advertisement would you select to use for an arrangement of flowers? Why? (The containers varied from those which were undecorated and well proportioned, to those which were elaborate in shape as well as in surface decoration.) 10. On this page are two color combinations. Tell what scheme has been used and by what means the colors have been harmonized. (These combinations were cut from magazine advertisements in which the combinations were pleasing. The colors had been harmonized through the quality of each color as well as the area.) In each of the above situations the answer was not considered adequate if the pupil had merely made a choice. A reason was needed to substantiate that choice and the most complete answer was based on the principles of art which applied in each case. This did not mean that formal statements of the principles were required. It was considered much more desirable to have the pupils give in their own words the art reasons which justified each choice. That such a test gives pertinent evidence of the use pupils are able to make of their art training is shown in the words of the teacher who gave the above test: I did not want my students to feel that art work was something to be memorized until the course was over but a thing to be carried through life. I was very much pleased with the results I obtained from the class. The pupils responded to the idea that art could be used in every phase of life even when it came to writing up their daily lessons. They no longer thought of art as something accomplished only by professional artists, nor the word as meaning painting and drawing, but as the feeling or appreciation of things beautiful in line, design, and color. By having them constantly put into practice the art principles which they learned, by the end of the art unit the pupils had enough confidence in themselves to back up each choice that they made with a reason. I felt that this type of a test was a true test of their art knowledge because it was practical. Immediately the question arises as to the source of materials to use in such a test, for it is evident that those used as illustrative material for developing or applying principles in class can not be reused in the test. For questions 1, 2, and 3 of the first part (p. 59) the materials used may be borrowed from a store or solicited from interested friends. The girls themselves may be asked in advance to bring in a scarf and some dress accessory. Since the choice is confined to an article suited for a particular garment that choice ceases to be a personal one, although some pupil-owned garments and accessories are used. Drug stores, paint shops, and drapery departments may be solicited for wall paper catalogues and samples of fabrics. Some firms will send fair-sized samples or swatches of material for class use. In the second part of the test (pp. 60-62) magazine illustrations and advertisements proved to be most usable. Illustrative materials have long been recognized as having an important part to play in the teaching of home economics. The possibilities of their use in testing the results of teaching have not yet been fully appreciated. Further suggestions on illustrative materials will be found in Section VI, page 75. The objective type test also has its place in measuring results.[26] As has been suggested, many tangible evidences of the effectiveness of art instruction may be observed and several of them can be noted in the classroom. Others of equal or greater importance can not be measured in the classroom, but can only be determined by the teacher as she visits the home, supervises home projects, and participates with her pupils in the life of the community. The home project has been an essential part of the vocational program in home economics since the inauguration of the vocational program in 1917-1918. It has afforded an opportunity for extending the work of the classroom into the home and has developed additional desirable abilities through practice under normal conditions. The project carried on in the home has therefore been considered a valuable educational procedure. It is also a measure of results of teaching in that it shows how well the girl is able to apply classroom training to actual situations that arise in her project. Art can contribute to the success of many home improvement and clothing projects. There has been a tendency in some cases, however, for the pupil's interest in the actual manipulative processes involved in the project to be so great that she lost sight of the opportunities for the best applications of art. In the home project "Redecorating my room," there is evidence that the pupil has consciously applied art for the successful attainment of it. This project, reported as follows, grew out of the unit in home furnishing, which is recommended as an additional study following the first general course in art related to the home. _Name of project._--Redecorating my bedroom. _Plan of project._--Since my bedroom must be repapered and painted, I plan to make it as attractive as possible by following some of the things we have had in our art work in home economics. The plaster of the walls is not suitable for painting, so I will select some light and cheerful colored paper with figures in warm pastel shades. The woodwork, which is a pea-green color, is quite dull and cool for a north room and needs brightening up, so instead of having the same color again, I will paint it a light cream or ivory. A dark-yellow paint covers the floor, which is quite worn in some places. I do not like this color, so my plan is to use either light brown or tan, at least something darker than the walls, as I want the floors darkest, the walls next, and the ceiling the lightest. To make the furniture, which is now varnished, blend with the color of the woodwork and floor, it too will have to be painted a color lighter than the floor or darker than the woodwork. In place of white tie-back curtains, deep cream or some other color darker than the white will be more suitable with plain-colored draperies, as they will blend with the ivory woodwork and enameled furniture. In order to contrast the curtains with the bedspread and dresser scarf, I think the spread and scarf can be a lighter cream color. A cushion for the rocker and a flower by the window will also add color and finishing touches to the room. _Outline of project activities._-- ----------------------------------+-------------------------------------- Jobs | References ----------------------------------+-------------------------------------- Selected wall paper and helped | Looked through several wall paper paper the room, using paper | catalogues and samples at the with light background and | furniture store. pastel figures in it. | | Painted the woodwork an ivory | I got sample folders of paint and color. | also used the samples in the | catalogue. | | The House and Its Care, by Matthews. | Painted the floor an inside tan | Used sample folders of paint. (deep tan color). | | Goldstein, Art in Everyday Life, | for suggestion on color. | Painted the furniture with beige | I referred to paint folders. enamel. | | Made an unbleached krinkled | I looked through several magazines spread, repeating the color of | and catalogues for styles and the draperies on the spread. | my mother and sister gave | suggestions. | Made deep cream voile curtains. | Studied different styles of curtains These were straight curtains, | in magazines. not ruffled. | | Made draperies. | Referred to magazines and catalogues. | Made cretonne cushion for rocker. | Mother gave me suggestions. | Made a dresser scarf, repeating | Consulted mother and my teacher. colors that are in the wall | paper. | ----------------------------------+-------------------------------------- _Time for project._--A total of 62-1/2 hours was spent on my project between November 15 and January 11. _Story of my project._--My bedroom is a northeast room, long and narrow, with sloping walls, and had but one window on the north side. This made it dark and cheerless during most of the year. Last summer my father built a dormer window in the east side of the sloping walls. Immediately the room seemed transformed. It did not look so long and narrow and the sunshine drove out the darkness and cheerlessness. This improvement gave me the idea of remodeling the bedroom, and I saw many possibilities of making it into a cheerful and cozy one, where I could spend much of my spare time. I began almost immediately to remodel. The first thing I started with was the walls. They were not suited for painting, so I chose paper, which I got at the furniture store. After looking through several wall paper catalogues I chose paper with a light background and an inconspicuous, conventionalized design in pastel tones of blue-green, red-orange, violet, and yellow. (Sample attached.) Before I put the paper on the wall I cleaned and sandpapered the woodwork, floors, and dusted the walls. Father and I then began papering. We had some trouble in matching the paper, but after the first two strips were matched the rest was put on without difficulty. The next job was painting the woodwork. I applied two coats of ivory paint after having dusted the wood so that there would be no dust to interfere with the painting. This was done successfully and without difficulty. (Sample of color used.) The next step was painting the floor. I chose inside tan. (Sample of color used.) The furniture was easier to paint than the floor but it took quite a while to give it two coats. I used enamel that dried in two hours, so had to be careful not to rebrush the parts I had painted, as rebrushing causes light streaks after the paint has set. (Sample of color used.) With father's assistance, I completed the difficult work of papering and painting. Then I began the pleasant work of making a spread, curtains, draperies, and cushion. I looked through several magazines, catalogues, and books for the different ways of making curtains, spreads, and draperies. My mother and sister also gave suggestions as to what would go best with the room and how to make them. I chose deep cream voile curtains with red-orange (peach) pongee draperies. The curtains are made with a wide hem at the bottom and sides. The spread is of unbleached krinkled muslin. (Sample attached.) I have a deep ruffle of the same material at both sides and I repeated the red-orange color in two bands near the ruffle. The rocker needed a cushion. This I made of figured cretonne, which blends nicely with the room. (Sample attached.) On the floor I have two rag rugs which also have colors of blue, red-orange, and tan. My teacher came to visit my room one evening and gave me some splendid ideas. I shall add a homemade wardrobe for my clothes and put a low shelf in it for my shoes. In front of the dormer window a table will fit nicely. I am going to fix this table up with some books supported by book ends, a simple box, and a blooming plant. I will keep some simple and useful articles on my dresser. All through this report there are many evidences that the pupil can apply the principles of art successfully and also that she knows how to obtain further information as needed. Another interesting feature of this project is that the pupil did not consider this a finished piece of work when her original plan had been completed. She saw other possibilities for her room and was beginning to make plans for further changes and additions in keeping with those that had been completed. There is no better evidence of the success of art training than in the effective use the girl makes of it in her home life. It may be anticipated that a girl who has gone this far in improving a part of the home will endeavor to make other desirable changes. To the extent that the members of the entire family welcome the changes brought about by the project and enjoy the results, the project may be considered successful. The success of art instruction may then be evaluated by-- 1. Evidences in the classroom. 2. Evidences in the home. 3. Tests which call for judgment and creative thinking. 4. Home projects. HOME PROJECTS Home projects involving the use of art are to be encouraged, not only as a device for measuring the results of teaching, but as a means of stimulating applications of art in the home. Art training will function in the immediate lives of the girls to the extent that successful applications of it are made through the home projects. However, such applications are not made without the ideal and therein lies the importance of developing in girls ideals of having and creating beauty that will be sufficiently deep seated not only to motivate but to carry through pieces of work in their homes that will bring more beauty and satisfaction to the families. Projects carried on in the home demand more than a repetition of certain processes that have been learned in school. They involve the bringing together of many principles and processes, the exercising of judgment in determining which are needed, and then the applications of these in the new situation. Thus the home project is a creative piece of work. Much more use of art should be encouraged in many of the projects which girls are choosing in all phases of home activities since it can contribute so much to the comfort and attractiveness of homes, and these are essential factors of happy family life. Lewis Mumford,[27] a distinguished critic of modern architecture and decoration, has fittingly said: The chief forms of decoration in the modern house will be living things--flowers, pictures, people. Here is a style of interior decoration that perpetually renews itself. For the modern house is built not for show but for living; and the beauty it seeks to create is inseparable from the personalities that it harbors. It is safe to predict, on the basis of the home projects in which desirable art applications have been made, that through conscious effort the following outcomes may be expected: 1. The ideal of creating beauty in the home will be strengthened. 2. Pupils will recognize greater possibilities for making art applications. 3. Pupils will become more observing and discriminating. 4. Family life will be bettered by those projects in which home improvement has been achieved. 5. Pupils will appreciate that beauty is not dependent upon cost. 6. More successful projects will be carried out. The last point is reflected in the summary of results that one girl made of her home project, "Improving the Looks of My Room." She said: The only cost for my project was for the two little pictures that I hung by the mirror. I learned that it is not always the cost or quality that determines the attractiveness of a room. Things must be arranged correctly or much of the beauty is lost. My mother thought that everything I did to my room was an improvement and encouraged me to do much more. I am planning to do more for our entire house in the future. The home project which resulted in an improved kitchen in one home had a favorable influence upon the home life of the family. The girl, with the financial assistance of her brothers, had made an attractive and more efficient kitchen in the bare 4-room house, which was the home of the family. The living quarters were naturally limited in such a small space. In reporting on this project the teacher said: I feel that this project has been very worthwhile to Ethel and her whole family. Her mother was so grateful and told me how much better it made her feel to walk into a bright, cheerful kitchen every morning. She said that her boys were so pleased they had made a living room out of the kitchen on cold winter nights. =Suggestive Home Projects in Which Art is an Important Factor= Clothing projects which include planning as well as construction offer many possibilities. This planning would necessitate such applications of art as the adapting of style, design, and color to the individual, selecting and combining textures and colors in the fabrics, and using appropriate trimmings and accessories. Such projects would also afford opportunity for exercising judgment through the evaluation of results. The same opportunities exist in the "make-over" projects as in the others in which all new materials are used. A few clothing projects involving art are suggested, as follows: 1. Planning and buying or making (_a_) school wardrobe for self; (_b_) season's wardrobe for small sister or brother. 2. Making the most of clothing on hand. This will involve cleaning, pressing, and mending, as well as some remodeling. 3. Remodeling clothing on hand and choosing additional garments needed for an attractive and suitable wardrobe. 4. Selecting the accessories to complete a costume for self or for mother. Home-improvement projects which involve the exterior of the home as well as the interior should have a place in the home-economics program. In this group of projects there is not only great opportunity for the application of art as the basis for planning and selecting, but also for the making of more pleasing arrangements of things already in the home. In view of the fact that in most home-improvement projects the girl needs to make the best use of furnishings and equipment already possessed by the family, and usually has a limited amount of money to spend, her problems are greatly increased. Except in the few cases in which she has the privilege of newly furnishing a room or a part of the home, the starting point is with the present possessions in the home and a careful evaluation of them to determine the good in each. _She should appreciate the fact that the home and its possessions belong to the entire family and that any changes she may desire to make should meet their approval or at least be undertaken with their consent._ In most cases the proposed changes will be more welcomed by the family if little outlay of money is necessitated and if the largest and best use is made of cherished household treasures. Joint home improvement projects have been carried out in some States with considerable success. In these projects the girls in home economics have worked cooperatively with brothers who were in agricultural classes. This usually meant greater interest on the part of parents and other members of the family. More ambitious programs for improvement were thus possible, not only through greater family support and encouragement but through the boy's ability to make certain alterations in structure or finishing that a girl could not do alone. Through these projects the boy and girl have learned much from each other. Perhaps the most conspicuous evidence of success has been the spread of interest beyond the homes into community improvement. Some suggestive home-improvement projects are as follows: 1. Making the home kitchen a more convenient and attractive place in which to work. 2. Arranging home furnishings and accessories so that harmony, balance, and desirable centers of emphasis contribute to the attractiveness and comfort of each room. 3. Assisting in the selection and arrangement of furniture, wall coverings, floor coverings, or accessories for the girl's own room or other rooms in the house. 4. Preparing the sun porch for summer use. 5. Planning and caring for window boxes. 6. Planning and planting a flower garden or border that will contribute to the appearance of the home and also be a source of pleasure. 7. Re-covering or making slip covers for furniture. 8. Assisting in the selection of linen, china, silver, and glassware for the table. 9. Planning the table decorations for special occasions. 10. Keeping appropriate centerpieces of flowers, plants, or fruit on the home table. Two home-improvement project reports on Beautifying Our Yard and Improving Our Home are given as suggestive of types of projects in which art plays an important part in successful achievement. Only the plans for the first one are given, since they show the significant art applications. _Name of project: Beautifying Our Yard_ (Reported by a girl in a vocational high school in Nebraska.) I. Reasons for choosing this project-- 1. The flowers will improve the looks of the yard. 2. It will be an experience in the arrangement of flowers for me and will not only add to the attractiveness of the yard but to the house and surrounding buildings. II. Aims-- 1. To make the yard and house more attractive. 2. To keep flowers watered and weeded and give other care they need. 3. To plant the flowers in the most suitable place and position. III. Plans-- 1. Get all the information I can from experienced gardeners and from books and magazines that tell which are the best flowers to raise, easiest to grow and take care of, and when and where they should be planted. 2. Names of flowers to be planted-- Cock's Comb. Zinnias. Phlox. Larkspur. Nasturtiums. Petunia. Sweet William. Cannas. Snap Dragons. Sweet Peas. Poppies. Heliotrope. Asters. Sweet Alyssum. Cosmos. Marigolds. 3. Location of flowers-- _a._ Along the walk (both sides). _b._ Along sides of the house. _c._ Along side of vacant lot. _d._ Around garage. _e._ Along the driveway. 4. How to plant the flowers-- _a._ The tallest ones in the back. _b._ The shortest in front. 5. When to plant them-- _a._ Sweet peas, March 1 to 10, or before. _b._ Others in the middle of April to May. _c._ The flowers may be started in the house and transplanted to the outside when the weather permits. 6. Care of flowers-- _a._ Water the flowers at least once a day (if dry weather). It is best to water them in the evening. _b._ Weed them at least twice a week and loosen the soil around them. _c._ If some insect starts destroying any of the flowers, spray them with a solution which will kill the destroyer. IV. Approval of guardian-- This project, Beautifying Our Yard, selected by Alta, is a very profitable project, especially at this time of the year when our thoughts are directed toward the planting of flowers, shrubs, etc. A beautiful yard adds so much to the home and makes everyone more happy and contented. This project should create a desire in Alta to take more interest in the yard and in planting it. Also watching the plants grow will make her feel some responsibility in caring for them, while at the same time every member of the family will enjoy the realization of the project. I wish her all success in making this project come true. NOTE.--An excellent planting plan worked out on squared paper accompanied this project. _Name of Project: Improving Our Home_ (Reported by an Alabama high school girl.) In the spring I took as my project home beautification. I thought when I started there was very little I could do to improve the old barnlike house and unsightly grounds, but the more I did the more there was to be done. I began by removing the old overgrown hedge from the side and front of the yard. After grading the ground we sodded the whole yard in Bermuda grass. The house was next underpinned with rough strips of lumber which were painted. A lattice fence was also built from the house to the garage (about 40 feet). Between the fence and the lawn a space about 30 feet square was left for a flower garden. Just in front of the fence several rambling rose bushes, jonquills, and chrysanthemums were planted. All around the garden I had flower beds about 4 feet wide filled with marigolds, zenias, bachelor buttons, asters, and phlox. In the summer we decided that we could afford a concrete walk and steps. This was a little expensive but it has helped the looks of the place so much that we have never regretted the time and money spent. The interior next received attention, beginning with my own room. The furniture consisted of an iron bedstead, an oak dresser, table, and chairs. There was a faded rug on the floor. I moved the dresser to another room, then from an old washstand I made a little dressing table. With rough lumber I made a window seat which I covered with bright cretonne. The furniture was very attractive after a coat of paint and two of enamel were put on. I have very light curtains at the windows. The old rug was turned over and looks almost like new. The walls in the living room and hall were painted in buff, the dining room and kitchen are to be the same. One of the greatest improvements of the interior is the built-in cabinets. A very convenient one was made between the dining room and kitchen, where an old chimney used to be. The bricks were used to build a basement. The part of the cabinet in the dining room is to be used for dishes, and that in the kitchen for the cooking utensils. Both are to be painted cream inside and oak outside. Next spring I am going to plant more flowers and keep working on everything that I think can be improved, for I love home projects. It not only has helped me, but has helped my entire family and even our neighbors. Section V ADDITIONAL UNITS IN ART RELATED SPECIFICALLY TO HOUSE FURNISHING AND CLOTHING SELECTION Though we travel the whole world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.--Emerson. In the earlier sections of this bulletin it has been suggested that the first course or unit in art be chiefly concerned with the fundamental principles of art and that applications of them be made in a great many fields. It is anticipated that a detailed or complete study of art as related to home furnishing or to clothing selection is to be given at a later time as separate units or courses. It is, however, hoped that the foundation course in art related to the home will give pupils such training that they will be better able to solve their most common daily problems in which art is an important factor, should they fail to have opportunity to take units in home furnishing or clothing selection later. In schools having two semesters that can be devoted to related art, it is recommended that the fundamental art course in which general applications are to be made be given in the first semester and the work of the second be composed of these more advanced units. When but one semester is provided for related art work, additional units in home furnishing and clothing selection should become a part of the regular homemaking program, with several consecutive weeks planned for each unit. These additional units offer fine opportunity for further applications of the principles of art in judgment and creative problems pertaining to home furnishing and clothing. Since the pupils will have gained an art consciousness through the more general course in art related to the home, and should have developed to a fair degree an ability to recognize and use certain fundamental art principles, it may be expected that the home furnishing and clothing selection units will be built around the larger and more difficult judgment and creative problems of selection, combination, arrangement, and rearrangement as they are met in life. In planning for a unit in home furnishing as an additional unit in related art, the present and future needs of girls should again be considered. In the study of house plans, the question arises as to whether or not to require pupils either to draw original plans or to copy plans for houses. To do so has been justified as a means of developing interest of pupils in well-planned houses. However, since comparatively few pupils will ever make use of house plans they have made and because many of them will have occasion for making changes in a house that is already planned or assisting in the selection of a plan for a house, it would seem more worth while and less time consuming for them to judge house plans from the standpoint of convenience and the placing of furniture than to draw them. Since the amount and kind of wall space is a determining factor in successful arrangements of home furnishings, opportunity for the individual pupil and class to judge house plans should be provided. Many interesting plans are to be found in nearly all household magazines. Care in the selection of such plans is important in order to avoid discussion of types of houses that are not in keeping with the standards of the community. If the home furnishing unit is to provide worth-while training and experience it should give to the pupils not only an ability to recognize good design and pleasing proportion in various pieces of furniture but ability to determine pleasing combinations of color, design, and texture in upholstery, drapery materials, and floor coverings, and to arrange and rearrange furniture and home accessories so that the rooms are comfortable and inviting. In all consideration of home furnishing and accessories, emphasis is given to the selection of the vase, the lamp, the chair, or the curtain which is most pleasing in shape and suited in color and texture for a particular grouping or arrangement. In the earlier and more general art unit, attention is confined to such selection for some parts of the home, but in the later study of home furnishing, they are made for the entire home, with more specific reference to the relationship of one room to another and to larger arrangements. It is assumed that in classes for the average girl 14 years of age and above, little if any reference will be made to period furniture. If any is made, it should be from the point of view of determining the suitability of adaptations of it to the average home and not purely as a means of identifying one style from another. To the extent that a better appreciation of good design and proportion in furniture may be gained by studying why some period furniture, as early American, is always beautiful and continues to be reproduced, it may be desirable to make some allusion to it. When a teacher determines that for the majority in a particular class there is no need for devoting any time to a consideration of period styles in furniture, she may satisfy the few who ask questions concerning those styles by directing them to specific reference readings and allowing them to make individual studies of those in which they have greatest interest. The type of furniture to be found within the community is always a guide in determining how much, if any, study of period furniture is to be made. An attempt to justify such a study is sometimes made from the standpoint of the pupil's personal need in assisting in the selection of new pieces of furniture for the parental home and of the future need in selecting furniture for her own home. But, after all, success in providing an attractive and convenient home depends more upon the harmonious combination of colors and materials and the satisfying daily arrangement of furniture and accessories than upon whether or not the furniture is of a definite period or style. It is upon the former that emphasis should be placed in planning and directing a unit in home furnishing if it is to be of the most service in the everyday experiences of the pupils. The unit in clothing selection provides further opportunity for valuable art training. The main purpose in this unit is to develop in the pupils an ideal of being becomingly dressed at all times and an ability to choose and combine articles of clothing into attractive daily ensembles. It is evident that if such a training is to be of real service to the pupils in meeting their daily clothing problems they must work as much as possible with actual garments, clothing materials, and clothing accessories. The pupils may be expected to bring some of the needed garments and accessories from home, the teacher may borrow some from the stores, and whenever possible the pupils may be taken to the stores. Such an experience as the last named is most true to life and is described elsewhere under the topic "Field trips." (See pp. 53-55.) Many teachers question whether or not to include some study of historic costume. Since the unit in clothing selection is designed to give the pupils an ability to solve their daily clothing problems, the practice of having the pupils make sketches, tracings, and mountings of costumes of different periods is undoubtedly of little value. It is not only time consuming but can contribute very little to the development of judgment in selecting and combining articles of modern clothing into suitable and becoming ensembles. There is even a danger that such a procedure may stifle rather than stimulate interest in beautiful and harmonious clothing combinations for everyday use. However, certain features of those costumes which have withstood the test of time and have been revived and adapted again and again in modern dress designs may justly claim some consideration. A few well selected and mounted illustrations of these historic costumes in color may stimulate an interest in art and a desire to know more about the influence of dress in the early periods upon the designs of to-day as well as contribute to better appreciation of color. Section VI ILLUSTRATIVE MATERIAL When you understand all about the sun and all about the atmosphere and all about the rotation of the earth, you may still miss the radiance of the sunset.--Whitehead. PURPOSE In home economics teaching there is an increasing recognition of the importance of illustrative material as a teaching device. There is no greater opportunity for effective use of it than in the teaching of art related to the home. Since one of the major objectives of such a course is to develop an ability to select the most suitable materials and articles, and since there is such a variety from which to choose, it is essential that materials which will give the pupils contact with good things and adequate experience in selection be provided. Another important objective is to develop ability to make successful combinations and arrangements. Since it is not yet possible to use real homes as classrooms, it is advantageous to bring some of the home into the schoolroom. Some outstanding advantages of the use of illustrative material are: 1. It focuses attention upon a single example and affords opportunity for common interpretation and discussion. 2. It furnishes visual as well as audible instruction. 3. It provides contact with actual materials not in an imaginary form, but as found in real life. (The use of doll-size houses with furnishings is questionable for their construction is too time-consuming and they are too much in miniature to furnish standards or to interest girls in real problems.) SELECTION AND SOURCE What are the factors governing the choice of illustrative material? The following ones have been adapted from a study by a graduate student at the University of Nebraska. The material should-- 1. Make a psychological appeal by-- _a._ Coming within the experience of the pupils. _b._ Being suited to their age and previous training. _c._ Possessing pertinent and attractive qualities. 2. Afford wide opportunity for independent choice. 3. Be simple and adapted to the standards of the community. 4. Be reasonable in cost. Teachers of art have a double problem in the selection of illustrative material in that they must not only choose those things which meet the above standards, but they must eliminate those in which there are unrelated factors which cause a lack of clarity. Quality rather than quantity should be the guide in making selections, for a small amount of well selected and arranged illustrative material is usually more effectively used than a large unorganized collection. Having determined upon the pieces of material that are desirable, the next problem is where to obtain them. Every teacher of art should build up her own personal collection of materials to supplement what can be procured from other sources, for one teaches best from her own material. At the same time, the teacher has a responsibility in guiding the selection of some pieces which should be provided by the school as permanent illustrative material. Still other pieces which it is inadvisable for either teacher or school to buy may be borrowed for special purposes. Chart 3 lists the general types of illustrative material and indicates possible sources of this material. Chart 3.--_Types and sources of illustrative materials_ ------------------------------------+-------------------------------- General types of | Sources of these materials illustrative materials | ------------------------------------+-------------------------------- | I. Articles and materials | in everyday use: | | 1. School-owned materials-- | 1. This collection will be Book ends. | accumulated as funds are Candlesticks and candles. | available and as desirable China. | articles are located. Colored papers. | Certain things as bits Curtains. | of yarns and scraps Flower vases and bowls. | of materials may be Necklines cut from neutral | contributed by members fabrics. | of classes. Pictures. | Screen. | Swatches of fabrics-- | For color. | For design. | For texture. | Wall hangings. | Yarns of many colors. | | 2. Borrowed materials-- | 2. Borrowed from teachers, Brass or pewter articles. | homes, and stores in the Wardrobe accessories. | community. Dresses. | Dressing table articles. | Household linens. | Picture molding samples. | Scarfs. | Small tables. | Table runners. | Trays. | | II. Collected and constructed | materials: | | 1. Collected-- | 1. Collected by the teacher Magazine covers. | from commercial firms and Magazine advertisements. | magazines. Much of this Magazine articles and | material comes to the illustrations. | teacher by virtue of her Commercial advertising-- | position and should Booklets. | therefore be considered Boxes of miscellaneous | school property. size and shape. | Catalogues-- | Wallpaper. | Furniture. | China. | Silver. | Pictures. | Floor coverings. | Charts-- | Paints and enamels. | Fabrics. | Dyes. | Colored paper samples. | Fabric samples. | | 2. Constructed-- | 2. Made by the teacher. Paper models representing-- | Margins. | Space divisions. | General proportions. | Repetition of units. | Harmony of shapes. | Colour wheel. | ------------------------------------+-------------------------------- USE The above list of illustrative material should in no way be considered as representing all that should be provided for the teaching of art nor as meeting minimum requirements. It is, however, indicative of some of the materials that are desirable and most usable as well as available at a small expenditure of money. The finest collection of illustrative material is futile if it is not used in such a way that the pupils see the significance of it and develop discriminating powers through the use of it. Charts and other materials lose their value if hung around the room or left in the same arrangements from September to June. Little notice is taken of them for they seem to become a permanent part of the background. Most charts are not decorative and their use should be confined to that part of the work to which they definitely contribute. There are three important objectives to be kept in mind in the use of illustrative materials. They are-- 1. To arouse interest. For this purpose pertinent materials should be arranged attractively on the bulletin board or screen or placed in some conspicuous part of the classroom. These particular pieces should be changed very frequently. See Figure 2, page 8. 2. To assist in solving problems in the development of the principle. The teacher will need to use clear and concise illustrative materials for this purpose. Since these pieces of illustrative material are usually held up before the class, it is necessary that they be of such size that all of the pupils can see them clearly. In addition, the class should be so arranged that all members have equal opportunity for observing them and handling them. 3. To assist in developing judgment ability. Materials for this purpose will be used in two ways: (1) As an aid in solving judgment problems given to the class. In this case some pieces will be used by the group as a whole and others will be passed out to individual pupils. (2) As a means of further developing powers of discrimination and judgment. For this pupils are asked to make selections and arrangements from a large number of articles and materials. In using illustrative material it is often advisable to have examples of both the good and the poor. When this is true, one must remember to finish with the good. In other words, start with the poor and contrast with the good; or start with the good, contrast with the poor, and then go back to the good. Illustrative materials can not serve such purposes successfully unless they are so arranged as to be easily accessible for class use. For example, the small fabric sample mounted fast to a sheet of paper can not be examined adequately for texture study. It would be far better to have larger samples which are unmounted, thus making possible not only design, color, and texture study of them, but also many variations in combinations. The bulletin board and screen, well placed, offer good possibilities for accessibility of certain illustrative material which does not need to be handled. The screen is preferable because it can be moved around and placed to the best advantage for vision and light. To the extent that pupils have contact and experience with real articles and materials, there will be a better carry over and thus a greater ability to solve everyday art problems successfully. CARE AND STORAGE In addition to collecting and using illustrative materials, the teacher has the further problem of caring for and storing them. Soiled, creased, or worn materials are not only lacking in inspiration but set up poor standards. Illustrative materials may be most efficiently cared for by-- 1. Mounting that from which margins will not detract, that in which only one side needs to be used, and that of which texture study is not important. 2. Avoiding too long or unnecessary exposure. 3. Careful handling. 4. Cleaning if possible. 5. Pressing. 6. Labeling and classifying. 7. Careful storing. Good storage for illustrative materials offers many problems, but is that sufficient excuse for a teacher to leave materials on the wall the year around or piled carelessly on open shelves in the classroom? The provision for adequate storage does not necessarily require elaborate equipment nor a large expenditure of money. Cabinets and steel filing cases are highly desirable but are not absolutely essential for good storage. Much of the illustrative material for teaching related art lends itself to storage in manila folders and large envelopes, but some could better be stored in boxes, and still others, such as posters, swatches of fabrics held together by large clips, or pictures, may be best hung up. The use of folders or envelopes necessitates a place to keep them. In the absence of a filing case, one teacher improvised space by utilizing a large, deep drawer. A partition through the center made it possible to arrange two rows of folders. The same plan might be utilized in narrower drawers, providing for one row of folders and space at the side for storage of boxes. If regular manila folders are not large enough to protect the materials, larger ones may be procured at small expense by making them of heavy paper, which is obtainable at any printers. A strip of bookbinding tape may be used to reinforce the bottom. Cupboard shelves are more often provided in school laboratories than drawers. In such cases large envelopes, which are easily labeled and handled, will hold the materials more successfully. Boxes are very usable also, and may be stacked on shelves for easy accessibility. Those which are uniform in size and color are especially nice for storing many materials such as textiles, yarns, and other bulky pieces, and when used on open shelves a good standard of appearance in the laboratory is maintained. Any available space for hanging materials can also be used effectively. Textile swatches, charts, and posters, as well as garments, may be kept in better condition by hanging in closets or cases than by packing. When the teacher of art has the privilege of advising on the original building plans that include an art laboratory, she would do well to plan for various types of storage space. Perhaps the first essential is plenty of drawer space of varying sizes. Shallow drawers of 4 to 6 inches are recommended by many art teachers. These may vary in width and length, but some should be sufficiently large for posters and the larger pictures. Some deeper drawers are desirable for the odd, bulky pieces of material. Cupboards with solid panel doors should also be provided, for boxes, vases, candlesticks, and similar articles which can be most easily stored on shelves. If a storage closet or case is to be provided, a small rod and many hooks should be included. Then, of course, a special series of deep drawers or a filing case for the material that can be placed in folders should be a part of any newly planned laboratory. The most important factor is accessibility, and therefore the containers for all materials must be plainly labeled and conveniently arranged. Since illustrative material is such a valuable teaching device in art related to the home, good storage space and easy accessibility are of fundamental importance in its successful use. Section VII REFERENCE MATERIAL The home of the future will become more and more an art laboratory for the homemaker. When housewives make a serious study of art in the home--and this may be manifest in the preparation of food as well as in the color arrangement of the house--there will be better homes as well as houses.--Richard Allen. USE OF REFERENCE MATERIAL A wide use of reference material is essential in the successful teaching of art through the use of problems. Many sources of information are necessary for pupils to evaluate tentative conclusions and to verify final conclusions as well as for elaboration of facts. Reference to several different authorities will reveal to students the fact that there are differences of opinion regarding art and will help in making them realize the importance of weighing information thoroughly before accepting conclusions. In other words, it is valuable in preventing pupils from jumping to conclusions or accepting hasty conclusions. This suggests that several books for reference are preferable to a single text. However, many teachers favor the plan of providing three or four copies of the best books for class use rather than single copies of every art book that is published. In support of the use of references rather than single texts, the following points are made: 1. Opportunity is offered for pupils to verify and elaborate on information. 2. More pupils will have contact with the best references. 3. Resourcefulness in the pupil will be better developed. 4. Teachers are challenged to make better selection of books as well as better use of them. 5. In those schools which provide free textbooks for the pupils it is easier to replace old books, since fewer copies of the newer ones will be purchased at one time. SOURCES OF REFERENCE MATERIAL In addition to books, the teacher of art has at her disposal bulletins, current magazines, and educational advertising materials. In selecting art reference material for pupil use she should keep in mind that-- 1. Information must be authentic. 2. It should be pertinent to the study at hand. 3. It should be not only clear, concise, and interesting, but easy to understand. 4. It should include a wide variety of well chosen and clearly reproduced illustrations. 5. Illustrations should for the most part represent objects with which the girls come in frequent contact. 6. It should be up to date. 7. Subject matter and illustrations should avoid extravagant choices that are not within the reach of the average family. 8. It should contain a good table of contents and index. Since there is such a quantity of current magazine and advertising material, it is obvious that it can not all be used and therefore it is imperative that the teacher evaluate it and choose with keen discrimination all that she plans to utilize for illustrative or reference purposes. Much of this material is valuable and may be had for the asking. While it is desirable for the teacher to have subscriptions to several of the most helpful magazines for class use, it is not imperative, since she may procure many of them from pupils, from other teachers, and from the school or local community library. Several State departments have issued helpful lists of available advertising material for home economics, including related art. BIBLIOGRAPHY 1. For pupil and teacher use-- Baldt, Laura I., and Harkness, Helen D., Clothing for the High School Girl, 1931. J. B. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia. Butterick, Helen G., Principles of Clothing Selection. Revised 1930. The Macmillan Co., New York. Goldstein, Harriett and Vetta, Art in Everyday Life, 1925. The Macmillan Co., New York. Rathbone, Lucy, and Tarpley, Elizabeth, Fabrics and Dress, 1931. Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston. Sage, Elizabeth, Textiles and Clothing. 1930. Scribners, New York. Snow, Bonnie E., and Froehlich, Hugo B., The Theory and Practice of Color, 1918. Prang & Co., New York. Trilling, Mable B., and Williams, Florence, Art in Home and Clothing, 1928. J. B. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia. 2. For teacher use-- Bailey, Henry Turner, Art Education, 1914. Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston. Batchelder, Ernest A., Design in Theory and Practice, 1914. The Macmillan Co., New York. Degarmo, Charles, and Winslow, Leon Loyal, Essentials of Design, 1924. The Macmillan Co., New York. Federated Art Council on Art Education, Report of the Committee on Terminology. 1929. L. L. Winslow, secretary. Baltimore. Heckman, Albert, Pictures from Many Lands, 1925. The Art Extension Society, 415 Madison Avenue, New York. Morgan, A. B., Elements of Art and Decoration, 1915, 1928. Bruce Publishing Co., Milwaukee. Neuhaus, Eugene, Appreciation of Art, 1924. Ginn & Co., New York. National Committee on Wood Utilization, United States Department of Commerce, Furniture, Its Selection and Use, 1931. Superintendent of Documents, Washington, D. C. Packard, Edgar, Picture Readings, 1918. Public School Publishing Co., Bloomington, Ill. Parsons, Frank Alvah, Interior Decoration. Doubleday, Doran & Co., Garden City, N. Y. Russell, Mable, and Wilson, Elsie, Art Training Through Home Problems. (In press.) Manual Arts Press, Peoria, Ill. Sargent, Walter, Enjoyment and Use of Color, 1923. Scribners, New York. Weinberg, Louis, Color in Everyday Life, 1918. Dodd, Mead & Co., New York. Welling, Jane Betsy, More Color for You, 1927. Abbott Educational Co., Chicago. INDEX Abilities: creative, 14, 22. in laboratory problems, 46-47. judgment, 22. objectives, 14. permanent, 11. specific ability in a lesson, 34. Additional units. _See_ Units. Allen, Richard, 81. Applications of art principles: in notebooks, 43. to all phases of home making, 18-21. through home projects, 67. Appreciation: fundamental outcome of art instruction, 55, 58. objective, 14. Arrangements: of articles on dresser, 41. of bulletin board, 8, 28. of curtains, 35-38. of flowers, 7, 9, 24, 26. Art (_see also_ Design, Beauty, and Taste): essential factor in education, 1. quality, 25, 55. relation to home economics, 1. Assignments, 39, 40-42, 65-66. Baily, Henry Turner, 10. Balance: objective, 14. principles, 15, 16. procedure for achieving, 17. Beauty: contribution of principles to, 15. enjoyment of, 14. ideal of creating beauty in home, 67. objective, 13. Better Homes Week, 42. Block printing, 50. Bobbitt, F., 12, 25. Bulletin board: arrangement of, 8, 28. for illustrative materials, 78. Center of interest. _See_ Emphasis. Child development, art topics, 18. Clothing selection: art topics in, 21. suggested projects in, 68. unit in, 72-74. Color: a basic element, 16. in laboratory, 27. in nature, 27. objective, 13, 14. principles, 16. use of dyes in teaching, 51-52. Consumer: art training needed by, 12. selection versus making by, 2. Content: choice of art, 12. essential art content, 14-17, 22, 33. Costume design. _See_ Clothing selection. Craft work. _See_ Laboratory problems. Creative problems. _See_ Problems. Cumulative teaching, 42. Curtains. _See_ Draperies. Decoration, definition, 48. Design. (_See also_ Structural design), objectives, 13-14. Dining room, school, 28, 30. Draperies, lesson on arranging curtains, 34-40. Drew, E., 1. Economy, in dress, 2. Embroidery. _See_ Hand stitchery. Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 72. Emphasis: objective, 14. principles, 15, 17. Environment: home, 58. home-economics department, 6, 7, 9, 24, 26, 27. objective, 13. Evaluation of results. _See_ Measuring results. Exterior design. _See_ Home exterior. Federated Council on Art Education, 15, 16. Field trips: description, 54-55. place in related art course, 53-55. purpose, 53. Flowers: fabric or yarn, 50. substitutes for, 27. Flower arrangement: discussion of, 29. illustrations, 7, 9, 24, 26. Furniture: painting, 51. refinishing, 42-43. Girls' room, home project, 63-66, 69. Goldstein, Harriett and Vetta, 4, 15, 48. Hand stitchery, 50. Harmony: objective, 14. principles, 15, 17. Historic costume, 74. Home-economics cottages, 42. Home exterior, art topics, 19. Home improvement: joint projects in, 68-69. project reports of, 63-66, 69-71. suggested projects in, 69. Home interior: art topics, 20. unit in home furnishing, 72-74. Home projects. _See_ Projects. Home situations for which art is needed, 17-21. House furnishings. _See_ Home interior. Ideals: establishing, 28. in related art courses, 2. objective, 13. Illustrations of appreciation centers, 7, 8, 9, 24, 26. Illustrative material: for test, 62-63. further suggestions for use of, 40-41. in notebooks, 43, 45, 46. purpose of, 75. selection and source of, 75-77. storage, 79-80. use, 77-78. use in specific lesson, 40-41. Inductive problems. _See_ Problems. Interest: arrangement of units to create, 10-11. contribution of classroom to, 25, 26. creating, 22-29. initial, 23-25. objective, 13. specific, 22. spread of, 58. through field trips, 53. through illustrative material, 78. through notebooks, 44, 45. Interior design. _See_ Home interior. Judgment problems. _See_ Problems. Kelsey, Clark, B., 2. Knouff, Cyrus, W., 2. Laboratory, improvement in, 27. Laboratory problems: education possibilities of commonly used, 50-52. place in related art course, 46-53. relation to interest, 22. standards for evaluating, 47-48. values of, 47. Lamp shades, 50. Lesson in art, 34-38. Lettering, 50. Line, basic element, 16. Marbleized paper, 50-51. Meal planning and table service, art topics, 18-19. Measuring results: description of test given for, 59-63. discussion of, 55-66. improved practices-- at home, 58. in school, 55-58. practical test, 58. through home projects, 63-66. through notebooks, 44. Method in teaching: discussion, 29-33. problem solving, 31-33. Morehart, 31. Morgan, A. B., 27. Morrison, H. C., 22. Mumford, Lewis, 67. Needs for art training: general art, 12. girls, 3, 13, 15. home, 15, 17-21. individual, 15. Notebooks: analysis to determine use of, 44-45. discussion of use, 43-46. justification of use, 43-44. Objectives: general, 13, 34. guide for content, 14-15, 21. in related art, 12-14. in using illustrative materials, 77-78. specific, 13-14, 34. Opposition, 16. Orderly arrangement: in laboratory, 27. on bulletin board, 8, 27, 28. Period furniture, 73-74. Personality, expressed in homes, 2, 67. Place cards, 51. Portfolios: for illustrative material, 45-46. making, 51. Posters, 46, 51. Principles of art: application in all phases of homemaking, 18. classification, 16. illustrated in lesson on proportion, 35, 38. relationship, 41-42. selection, 15-17, 21. Problems: creative, 32, 39. inductive, 31-32, 35. judgment or reasoning, 32, 38, 39, 61. meaning, 31. source, 14. Problem series: factors in planning, 33. suggested series, 38-40. Problem solving: discussion, 29-34. use of illustrative material, 78. Projects: class, 42-43. home-- outcomes, 67. report of one, 63-66. suggestive projects, 67-68. Proportion: objective, 14. principles, 15, 16, 35, 38, 52, 58-59. sample lesson for developing principle, 34-40. Radiation, 15, 16. Reasoning. _See_ Judgment. Reference material: for pupil and teacher use, 82. for teacher use, 82-83. sources, 81-82. use, 81. Repetition: objective, 14. principles, 15, 16. Rhythm: objective, 14. principles, 15, 16. Rugs, rug hooking, 51. Russell, Mabel, 15, 17, 22. Sequence: in problems, 33. in units, 10, 72. Shaded dyeing, 52. Social and community relations, art topics, 20. Standards: for a dress, 54. for evaluating laboratory problems, 47-48, 53. for reference material, 81-82. Strebel, 31. Structural design: definition of, 48. emphasis in classroom, 27. Subordination. _See_ Emphasis. Supervisors, use of bulletin by State and local, 6. Surroundings. _See_ Environment. Taste: developed through good example, 29. quotation on, 2, 10. Teachers: appearance, 29. art teachers, 5. home economics, 5. quoted, 49, 56-57, 58, 62, 67-68. special problems of, in art, 4-5. Teacher training: preparation in art, 5. use of bulletin in, 6. Terminology in art, 15-16. Terms, art, 15. Tests. _See_ Measuring results. Tie dyeing, 51-52. Transition, 15, 16. Trilling, M. B., 15. Units: additional units in art, 72-74. arrangement in vocational schools, 10-11, 72. in clothing selection, 73-74. in home furnishing, 72-73. Unity, 15, 16. Vocational program: art in all-day schools in, 1-2, 10-11, 14. art for adults in, 2-3, 14. art for part-time girls in, 11, 14. objectives, 12. place of art in, 10-11. Weaving, 52. Whitford, William C., 1, 12, 15, 16, 22, 29, 55, 63. Williams, F., 15. Wilson, Elsie, VII, 15, 17, 22. Windows, lesson on curtain arrangement for school, 34-40. Winter bouquets, 27, 29. PUBLICATIONS OF THE FEDERAL BOARD FOR VOCATIONAL EDUCATION RELATING TO HOME-ECONOMICS EDUCATION[28] ANNUAL REPORTS TO CONGRESS 1919, 1920, 1923, 1924, 1925, 1926, 1927, 1928, 1929, 1930. BULLETINS 23. Clothing for the Family. 1918. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 15c. 28. Home-Economics Education. Organization and Administration (revised). 1928. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 15c. 35. Use and Preparation of Food. 1919. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 20c. 79. A Study of Home-Economics Education in Teacher-Training Institutions for Negroes. 1923. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 15c. 86. Health of the Family. A Program for the Study of Personal, Home, and Community Health Problems. 1923. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 25c. 116. Training for Leadership in Home-Economics Education. Report of the National Committee on Advanced Courses in Vocational Education. 1927. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 10c. 124. Plant and Equipment for Vocational Classes in Home Economics. Intended for the Use of Those Responsible for Determining Plant and Equipment for Vocational Schools and Classes. 1927. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 40c. 143. Training Supervisors of Home-Economics Education. Report of the National Committee on Advanced Courses in Vocational Education. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 5c. 151. Vocational Education in Home Economics. Twelve Years of Home Economics Under the National Vocational Education Acts. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 30c. 156. The Teaching of Art Related to the Home. Suggestions for Content and Method in Related Art Instruction in the Vocational Program in Home Economics. 1931. On sale by Superintendent of Documents, Government Printing Office. Price, 25c. 158. The Teaching of Science Related to the Home. Suggestions for Content and Method in Related Science Instruction in the Vocational Program in Home Economics. 1931. (In press.) FOOTNOTES [Footnote 1: Whitford, William G., An Introduction to Art. Preface XI. Appleton Series in Education, 1929.] [Footnote 2: Ibid., p. 16.] [Footnote 3: National Committee on Wood Utilization, United States Department of Commerce--Furniture and Its Selection and Use, by Clark B. Kelsey, p. 1.] [Footnote 4: School and Society, Vol. XXX, No. 780.] [Footnote 5: Bobbitt, F. How to Make a Curriculum, pp. 220-221. Houghton, Mifflin Co. 1924.] [Footnote 6: Whitford, William G., An Introduction to Art, pp. 192-193. Appleton Series in Education, 1929.] [Footnote 7: Adapted from Russell and Wilson, Art Training Through Home Problems. Manual Arts Press. (In press.)] [Footnote 8: Federated Council on Art Education. Report of the Committee on Terminology (William G. Whitford, chairman), p. 12, 1929.] [Footnote 9: Goldstein, Harriett and Vetta, Art in Everyday Life, p. 5. The MacMillan Co. 1925.] [Footnote 10: Russell, M., and Wilson, E., Art Training Through Home Problems. Manual Arts Press. (In press.)] [Footnote 11: Trilling, M. B., and Williams, F., Art in Home and Clothing, pp. 28-63. The Lippincott Co. 1928.] [Footnote 12: Federated Council on Art Education. Report of the Committee on Terminology, Table V (William G. Whitford, chairman), p. 26.] [Footnote 13: Federated Council on Art Education. Report of the Committee on Terminology (William G. Whitford, chairman), p. 38.] [Footnote 14: Russell, M., and Wilson, E., Art Training Through Home Problems. Manual Arts Press. (In press.) North Dakota State Department of Education, A Suggested Outline for the Content of a Course in Related Art for High School Girls. Nebraska State Department of Education, Suggested Outline for Content and Methods in Related Art. Home Economics Publication, Serial No. 38.] [Footnote 15: Whitford, William G., An Introduction to Art, p. 194. Appleton Series in Education, 1929.] [Footnote 16: Russell, M., and Wilson, E., Art Training Through Home Problems. (Chapter "Creating an Interest in Everyday Art.") Manual Arts Press. (In press.)] [Footnote 17: Lancelot, W. H., Handbook of Teaching Skills. John Wiley & Sons, 1929.] [Footnote 18: Bobbitt, F. How to Make a Curriculum, p. 222. Houghton-Mifflin Co., 1929.] [Footnote 19: Morgan, A. B., Elements of Art and Decoration, p. 33. The Bruce Publishing Co. 1928.] [Footnote 20: Whitford, William G., An Introduction to Art, p. 186. Appleton Series in Education. 1929.] [Footnote 21: Strebel and Morehart, The Nature and Meaning of Teaching, p. 177. McGraw-Hill Book Co. 1929.] [Footnote 22: Lancelot, W. H., Handbook of Teaching Skills. John Wiley and Sons. 1929.] [Footnote 23: Lancelot, W. H., Handbook of Teaching Skills. John Wiley & Sons. 1929.] [Footnote 24: Goldstein, Harriet and Vetta, Art in Everyday Life, p. 6. The Macmillan Co. 1925.] [Footnote 25: Whitford, William G., An Introduction to Art, p. 236. Appleton Series in Education. 1929.] [Footnote 26: Refer to Whitford, An Introduction to Art Education, pp. 239-245, for suggestive appreciation test in art. Appleton Series in Education. 1929.] [Footnote 27: Mumford, Lewis, The American Mercury, April, 1930.] [Footnote 28: A complete list of available publications relating to the work of other services of the Federal Board for Vocational Education may be obtained on request. Address Publications Section of the Board.] 
32863	----	http://www.archive.org/details/cottageeconomyco00cobb COTTAGE ECONOMY; CONTAINING INFORMATION RELATIVE TO THE BREWING OF BEER, MAKING OF BREAD, KEEPING OF COWS, PIGS, BEES, EWES, GOATS, POULTRY, AND RABBITS, AND RELATIVE TO OTHER MATTERS DEEMED USEFUL IN THE CONDUCTING OF THE AFFAIRS OF A LABOURER'S FAMILY; TO WHICH ARE ADDED, INSTRUCTIONS RELATIVE TO THE SELECTING, THE CUTTING AND THE BLEACHING OF THE PLANTS OF ENGLISH GRASS AND GRAIN, FOR THE PURPOSE OF MAKING HATS AND BONNETS; AND ALSO INSTRUCTIONS FOR ERECTING AND USING ICE-HOUSES, AFTER THE VIRGINIAN MANNER. TO WHICH IS ADDED THE POOR MAN'S FRIEND; OR, A DEFENCE OF THE RIGHTS OF THOSE WHO DO THE WORK, AND FIGHT THE BATTLES. BY WILLIAM COBBETT. New York: Published by John Doyle, 12, Liberty-St. Stereotyped by Conner & Cooke. 1833. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year of our Lord 1833, by John Doyle, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New-York. CONTENTS. No. I.--Introduction. To the Labouring Classes of this Kingdom--Brewing Beer, 5 II.--Brewing Beer, continued, 23 III.--Making Bread, 41 IV.--Making Bread, continued--Brewing Beer--Keeping Cows, 59 V.--Keeping Cows, continued,--Keeping Pigs, 73 VI.--Keeping Pigs, continued--Salting Mutton, and Beef, 86 VII.--Bees, Geese, Ducks, Turkeys, Fowls, Pigeons, Rabbits, Goats, and Ewes, Candles and Rushes, Mustard, Dress and Household Goods, and Fuel, Hops, and Yeast, 98 VIII.--Selecting, Cutting and Bleaching the Plants of English Grass and Grain, for the purpose of making Hats and Bonnets--Constructing and using Ice-houses, 122 ADDITION.--Mangel Wurzel--Cobbett's Corn, 151 INDEX, 158 COTTAGE ECONOMY. No. I. INTRODUCTION. TO THE LABOURING CLASSES OF THIS KINGDOM. 1. Throughout this little work, I shall _number_ the Paragraphs, in order to be able, at some stages of the work, to refer, with the more facility, to parts that have gone before. The last Number will contain an _Index_, by the means of which the several matters may be turned to without loss of time; for, when _economy_ is the subject, _time_ is a thing which ought by no means to be overlooked. 2. The word _Economy_, like a great many others, has, in its application, been very much abused. It is generally used as if it meant parsimony, stinginess, or niggardliness; and, at best, merely the refraining from expending money. Hence misers and close-fisted men disguise their propensity and conduct under the name of _economy_; whereas the most liberal disposition, a disposition precisely the contrary of that of the miser, is perfectly consistent with economy. 3. ECONOMY means _management_, and nothing more; and it is generally applied to the affairs of a house and family, which affairs are an object of the greatest importance, whether as relating to individuals or to a nation. A nation is made powerful and to be honoured in the world, not so much by the number of its people as by the ability and character of that people; and the ability and character of a people depend, in a great measure, upon the _economy_ of the several families, which, all taken together, make up the nation. There never yet was, and never will be, a nation _permanently great_, consisting, for the greater part, of wretched and miserable families. 4. In every view of the matter, therefore, it is desirable; that the families of which a nation consists should be happily off: and as this depends, in a great degree, upon the _management_ of their concerns, the present work is intended to convey, to the families of the _labouring classes_ in particular, such information as I think may be useful with regard to that management. 5. I lay it down as a maxim, that for a family to be happy, they must be well supplied with _food_ and _raiment_. It is a sorry effort that people make to persuade others, or to persuade themselves, that they can be happy in a state of _want_ of the necessaries of life. The doctrines which fanaticism preaches, and which teach men to be _content_ with _poverty_, have a very pernicious tendency, and are calculated to favour tyrants by giving them passive slaves. To live well, to enjoy all things that make life pleasant, is the right of every man who constantly uses his strength judiciously and lawfully. It is to blaspheme God to suppose, that he created man to be miserable, to hunger, thirst, and perish with cold, in the midst of that abundance which is the fruit of their own labour. Instead, therefore, of applauding "_happy_ poverty," which applause is so much the fashion of the present day, I despise the man that is _poor_ and _contented_; for, such content is a certain proof of a base disposition, a disposition which is the enemy of all industry, all exertion, all love of independence. 6. Let it be understood, however, that, by _poverty_, I mean _real want_, a real insufficiency of the food and raiment and lodging necessary to health and decency; and not that imaginary poverty, of which some persons complain. The man who, by his own and his family's labour, can provide a sufficiency of food and raiment, and a comfortable dwelling-place, is not a _poor man_. There must be different ranks and degrees in every civil society, and, indeed, so it is even amongst the savage tribes. There must be different degrees of wealth; some must have more than others; and the richest must be a great deal richer than the least rich. But it is necessary to the very existence of a people, that nine out of ten should live wholly by the sweat of their brow; and, is it not degrading to human nature, that all the nine-tenths should be called _poor_; and, what is still worse, _call themselves poor_, and be _contented_ in that degraded state? 7. The laws, the economy, or management, of a state may be such as to render it impossible for the labourer, however skilful and industrious, to maintain his family in health and decency; and such has, for many years past, been the management of the affairs of this once truly great and happy land. A system of paper-money, the effect of which was to take from the labourer the half of his earnings, was what no industry and care could make head against. I do not pretend that this system was adopted _by design_. But, no matter for the _cause_; such was the effect. 8. Better times, however, are approaching. The labourer now appears likely to obtain that hire of which he is worthy; and, therefore, this appears to me to be the time to press upon him the _duty_ of using his best exertions for the rearing of his family in a manner that must give him the best security for happiness to himself, his wife and children, and to make him, in all respects, what his forefathers were. The people of England have been famed, in all ages, for their _good living_; for the _abundance of their food_ and _goodness of their attire_. The old sayings about English roast beef and plum-pudding, and about English hospitality, had not their foundation in _nothing_. And, in spite of all refinements of sickly minds, it is _abundant living_ amongst the people at large, which is the great test of good government, and the surest basis of national greatness and security. 9. If the labourer have his fair wages; if there be no false weights and measures, whether of money or of goods, by which he is defrauded; if the laws be equal in their effect upon all men: if he be called upon for no more than his due share of the expenses necessary to support the government and defend the country, he has no reason to complain. If the largeness of his family demand extraordinary labour and care, these are due from him to it. He is the cause of the existence of that family; and, therefore, he is not, except in cases of accidental calamity, to throw upon others the burden of supporting it. Besides, "little children are as arrows in the hands of the giant, and blessed is the man that hath his quiver full of them." That is to say, children, if they bring their _cares_, bring also their _pleasures_ and _solid advantages_. They become, very soon, so many assistants and props to the parents, who, when old age comes on, are amply repaid for all the toils and all the cares that children have occasioned in their infancy. To be without sure and safe friends in the world makes life not worth having; and whom can we be so sure of as of our children? Brothers and sisters are a mutual support. We see them, in almost every case, grow up into prosperity, when they act the part that the impulses of nature prescribe. When cordially united, a father and sons, or a family of brothers and sisters, may, in almost any state of life, set what is called misfortune at defiance. 10. These considerations are much more than enough to sweeten the toils and cares of parents, and to make them regard every additional child as an additional blessing. But, that children may be a blessing and not a curse, care must be taken of their _education_. This word has, of late years, been so perverted, so corrupted; so abused, in its application, that I am almost afraid to use it here. Yet I must not suffer it to be usurped by cant and tyranny. I must use it: but not without clearly saying what I mean. 11. _Education_ means _breeding up_, _bringing up_, or _rearing up_; and nothing more. This includes every thing with regard to the _mind_ as well as the _body_ of a child; but, of late years, it has been so used as to have no sense applied to it but that of _book-learning_, with which, nine times out of ten, it has nothing at all to do. It is, indeed, proper, and it is the duty of all parents, to teach, or cause to be taught, their children as much as they can of books, _after_, and not before, all the measures are safely taken for enabling them to get their living by labour, or for _providing them a living without labour_, and that, too, out of the means obtained and secured by the parents out of their own income. The taste of the times is, unhappily, to give to children something of _book-learning_, with a view of placing them to live, in some way or other, _upon the labour of other people_. Very seldom, comparatively speaking, has this succeeded, even during the wasteful public expenditure of the last thirty years; and, in the times that are approaching, it cannot, I thank God, succeed at all. When the project has failed, what disappointment, mortification and misery, to both parent and child! The latter is spoiled as a labourer: his book-learning has only made him conceited: into some course of desperation he falls; and the end is but too often not only wretched but ignominious. 12. Understand me clearly here, however; for it is the duty of parents to give, if they be able, book-learning to their children, having _first_ taken care to make them capable of earning their living by _bodily labour_. When that object has once been secured, the other may, if the ability remain, be attended to. But I am wholly against children wasting their time in the idleness of what is called _education_; and particularly in schools over which the parents have no control, and where nothing is taught but the rudiments of servility, pauperism and slavery. 13. The _education_ that I have in view is, therefore, of a very different kind. You should bear constantly in mind, that nine-tenths of us are, from the very nature and necessities of the world, born to gain our livelihood by the sweat of our brow. What reason have we, then, to presume, that our children are not to do the same? If they be, as now and then one will be, endued with extraordinary powers of mind, those powers may have an opportunity of developing themselves; and if they never have that opportunity, the harm is not very great to us or to them. Nor does it hence follow that the descendants of labourers are _always_ to be labourers. The path upwards is steep and long, to be sure. Industry, care, skill, excellence, in the present parent, lay the foundation of _a rise_, under more favourable circumstances, for his children. The children of these take _another rise_; and, by-and-by, the descendants of the present labourer become gentlemen. 14. This is the natural progress. It is by attempting to reach the top at a _single leap_ that so much misery is produced in the world; and the propensity to make such attempts has been cherished and encouraged by the strange projects that we have witnessed of late years for making the labourers _virtuous_ and _happy_ by giving them what is called _education_. The education which I speak of consists in bringing children up to labour with _steadiness_, with _care_, and with _skill_; to show them how to do as many useful things as possible; to teach them to do them all in the best manner; to set them an example in industry, sobriety, cleanliness, and neatness; to make all these _habitual_ to them, so that they never shall be liable to fall into the contrary; to let them always see a _good living_ proceeding from _labour_, and thus to remove from them the temptation to get at the goods of others by violent or fraudulent means; and to keep far from their minds all the inducements to hypocrisy and deceit. 15. And, bear in mind, that if the state of the labourer has its disadvantages when compared with other callings and conditions of life, it has also its advantages. It is free from the torments of ambition, and from a great part of the causes of ill-health, for which not all the riches in the world and all the circumstances of high rank are a compensation. The able and prudent labourer is always _safe_, at the least; and that is what few men are who are lifted above him. They have losses and crosses to fear, the very thought of which never enters his mind, if he act well his part towards himself, his family and his neighbour. 16. But, the basis of good to him, is _steady and skilful labour_. To assist him in the pursuit of this labour, and in the turning of it to the best account, are the principal objects of the present little work. I propose to treat of brewing Beer, making Bread, keeping Cows and Pigs, rearing Poultry, and of other matters; and to show, that, while, from a very small piece of ground a large part of the food of a considerable family may be raised, the very act of raising it will be the best possible foundation of _education_ of the children of the labourer; that it will teach them a great number of useful things, _add greatly to their value when they go forth from_ their father's home, make them start in life with all possible advantages, and give them the best chance of leading happy lives. And is it not much more rational for parents to be employed in teaching their children how to cultivate a garden, to feed and rear animals, to make bread, beer, bacon, butter and cheese, and to be able to do these things for themselves, or for others, than to leave them to prowl about the lanes and commons, or to mope at the heels of some crafty, sleekheaded pretended saint, who while he extracts the last penny from their pockets, bids them be contented with their misery, and promises them, in exchange for their pence, everlasting glory in the world to come? It is upon the hungry and the wretched that the fanatic works. The dejected and forlorn are his prey. As an ailing carcass engenders vermin, a pauperized community engenders teachers of fanaticism, the very foundation of whose doctrines is, that we are to care nothing about this world, and that all our labours and exertions are in vain. 17. The man, who is doing well, who is in good health, who has a blooming and dutiful and cheerful and happy family about him, and who passes his day of rest amongst them, is not to be made to believe, that he was born to be miserable, and that poverty, the natural and just reward of laziness, is to secure him a crown of glory. Far be it from me to recommend a disregard of even outward observances as to matters of religion; but, can it be _religion_ to believe that God hath made us to be wretched and dejected? Can it be _religion_ to regard, as marks of his grace, the poverty and misery that almost invariably attend our neglect to use the means of obtaining a competence in worldly things? Can it be _religion_ to regard as blessings those things, those very things, which God expressly numbers amongst his curses? Poverty never finds a place amongst the _blessings_ promised by God. His blessings are of a directly opposite description; flocks, herds, corn, wine and oil; a smiling land; a rejoicing people; abundance for the body and gladness of the heart: these are the blessings which God promises to the industrious, the sober, the careful, and the upright. Let no man, then, believe that, to be poor and wretched is a mark of God's favour; and let no man remain in that state, if he, by any honest means, can rescue himself from it. 18. Poverty leads to all sorts of evil consequences. _Want_, horrid want, is the great parent of crime. To have a dutiful family, the father's principle of rule must be _love_ not _fear_. His sway must be gentle, or he will have only an unwilling and short-lived obedience. But it is given to but few men to be gentle and good-humoured amidst the various torments attendant on pinching poverty. A competence is, therefore, the first thing to be thought of; it is the foundation of all good in the labourer's dwelling; without it little but misery can be expected. "_Health_, _peace_, and _competence_," one of the wisest of men regards as the only things needful to man: but the two former are scarcely to be had without the latter. _Competence_ is the foundation of happiness and of exertion. Beset with wants, having a mind continually harassed with fears of starvation, who can act with energy, who can calmly think? To provide a _good living_, therefore, for himself and family, is the _very first duty_ of every man. "Two things," says AGUR, "have I asked; deny me them not before I die: remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be full and deny thee; or lest I be poor and steal." 19. A _good living_ therefore, a _competence_, is the first thing to be desired and to be sought after; and, if this little work should have the effect of aiding only a small portion of the Labouring Classes in securing that competence, it will afford great gratification to their friend WM. COBBETT. _Kensington, 19th July, 1821._ BREWING BEER. 20. Before I proceed to give any directions about brewing, let me mention some of the inducements to do the thing. In former times, to set about to show to Englishmen that it was good for them to brew beer in their houses would have been as impertinent as gravely to insist, that they ought to endeavour not to lose their breath; for, in those times, (only forty years ago,) to have a _house_ and not to brew was a rare thing indeed. Mr. ELLMAN, an old man and a large farmer, in Sussex, has recently given in evidence, before a Committee of the House of Commons, this fact; that, _forty years ago_, there was not a labourer in his parish that did not _brew his own beer_; and that _now_ there is _not one that does it_, except by chance the malt be given him. The causes of this change have been the lowering of the wages of labour, compared with the price of provisions, by the means of the paper-money; the enormous tax upon the barley when made into _malt_; and the increased tax upon _hops_. These have quite changed the customs of the English people as to their drink. They still drink _beer_, but, in general, it is of the brewing of _common brewers_, and in public-houses, of which the common brewers have become the owners, and have thus, by the aid of paper-money, obtained a _monopoly_ in the supplying of the great body of the people with one of those things which, to the hard-working man, is almost a necessary of life. 21. These things will be altered. They must be altered. The nation must be sunk into nothingness, or a new system must be adopted; and the nation will not sink into nothingness. The malt now pays a tax of 4_s._ 6_d._[1] a bushel, and the barley costs only 3_s._ This brings the bushel of malt to 8_s._ including the maltster's charge for malting. If the tax were taken off the malt, malt would be sold, at the present price of barley, for about 3_s._ 3_d._ a bushel; because a bushel of barley makes more than a bushel of malt, and the tax, besides its amount, causes great expenses of various sorts to the maltster. The hops pay a tax of 2_d._[2] a pound; and a bushel of malt requires, in general, a pound of hops; if these two taxes were taken off, therefore, the consumption of barley and of hops would be exceedingly increased; for double the present quantity would be demanded, and the land is always ready to send it forth. 22. It appears impossible that the landlords should much longer submit to these intolerable burdens on their estates. In short, they must get off the malt tax, or lose those estates. They must do a great _deal more_, indeed; but that they must do at any rate. The paper-money is fast losing its destructive power; and things are, with regard to the labourers, coming back to what they were _forty years ago_, and therefore we may prepare for the making of beer in our own houses, and take leave of the poisonous stuff served out to us by common brewers. We may begin _immediately_; for, even at _present prices_, home-brewed beer is the _cheapest_ drink that a family can use, except _milk_, and milk can be applicable only in certain cases. 23. The drink which has come to supply the place of beer has, in general, been _tea_. It is notorious that tea has no _useful strength_ in it; that it contains nothing _nutritious_; that it, besides being _good_ for nothing, has _badness_ in it, because it is well known to produce want of sleep in many cases, and in all cases, to shake and weaken the nerves. It is, in fact, a weaker kind of laudanum, which enlivens for the moment and deadens afterwards. At any rate it communicates no strength to the body; it does not, in any degree, assist in affording what labour demands. It is, then, of no _use_. And, now, as to its _cost_, compared with that of _beer_. I shall make my comparison applicable to a year, or three hundred and sixty-five days. I shall suppose the tea to be only five shillings the pound; the sugar only sevenpence; the milk only twopence a quart. The prices are at the very lowest. I shall suppose a tea-pot to cost a shilling, six cups and saucers two shillings and sixpence, and six pewter spoons eighteen-pence. How to estimate the firing I hardly know; but certainly there must be in the course of the year, two hundred fires made that would not be made, were it not for tea drinking. Then comes the great article of all, the _time_ employed in this tea-making affair. It is impossible to make a fire, boil water, make the tea, drink it, wash up the things, sweep up the fire-place, and put all to rights again, in a less space of time, upon an average, than _two hours_. However, let us allow _one hour_; and here we have a woman occupied no less than three hundred and sixty-five hours in the year, or thirty whole days, at twelve hours in the day; that is to say, one month out of the twelve in the year, besides the waste of the man's time in hanging about waiting for the tea! Needs there any thing more to make us cease to wonder at seeing labourers' children with dirty linen and holes in the heels of their stockings? Observe, too, that the time thus spent is, one half of it, the best time of the day. It is the top of the morning, which, in every calling of life, contains an hour worth two or three hours of the afternoon. By the time that the clattering tea tackle is out of the way, the morning is spoiled; its prime is gone; and any work that is to be done afterwards lags heavily along. If the mother have to go out to work, the tea affair must all first be over. She comes into the field, in summer time, when the sun has gone a third part of his course. She has the heat of the day to encounter, instead of having her work done and being ready to return home at any early hour. Yet early she must go, too: for, there is the fire again to be made, the clattering tea-tackle again to come forward; and even in the longest day she must have _candle light_, which never ought to be seen in a cottage (except in case of illness) from March to September. 24. Now, then, let us take the bare cost of the use of tea. I suppose a pound of tea to last twenty days; which is not nearly half an ounce every morning and evening. I allow for each mess half a pint of milk. And I allow three pounds of the red dirty sugar to each pound of tea. The account of expenditure would then stand very high; but to these must be added the amount of the tea tackle, one set of which will, upon an average, be demolished every year. To these outgoings must be added the cost of beer at the public-house; for some the man will have, after all, and the woman too, unless they be upon the point of actual starvation. Two pots a week is as little as will serve in this way; and here is a dead loss of ninepence a week, seeing that two pots of beer, full as strong, and a great deal better, can be brewed at home for threepence. The account of the year's tea drinking will then stand thus: _L._ _s._ _d._ 18lb. of tea 4 10 0 54lb. of sugar 1 11 6 365 pints of milk 1 10 0 Tea tackle 0 5 0 200 fires 0 16 8 30 days' work 0 15 0 Loss by going to public-house 1 19 0 ------------ _L._ 11 7 2[3] 25. I have here estimated every thing at its very lowest. The entertainment which I have here provided is as poor, as mean, as miserable as any thing short of starvation can set forth; and yet the wretched thing amounts to a good third part of a good and able labourer's wages! For this money, he and his family may drink good and wholesome beer; in a short time, out of the mere savings from this waste, may drink it out of silver cups and tankards. In a labourer's family, _wholesome_ beer, that has a little life in it, is all that is wanted in _general_. Little children, that do not work, should not have beer. Broth, porridge, or something in that way, is the thing for them. However, I shall suppose, in order to make my comparison as little complicated as possible, that he brews nothing but beer as strong as the generality of beer to be had at the public-house, and divested of the poisonous drugs which that beer but too often contains; and I shall further suppose that he uses in his family two quarts of this beer every day from the first of October to the last day of March inclusive: three quarts a day during the months of April and May; four quarts a day during the months of June and September; and five quarts a day during the months of July and August; and if this be not enough, it must be a family of drunkards. Here are 1097 quarts, or 274 gallons. Now, a bushel of malt will make eighteen gallons of better beer than that which is sold at the public-houses. And this is precisely a gallon for the price of a quart. People should bear in mind, that the beer bought at the public-house is loaded with a _beer tax_, with the tax on the public-house keeper, in the shape of license, with all the taxes and expenses of the brewer, with all the taxes, rent, and other expenses of the publican, and with all the _profits_ of both brewer and publican; so that when a man swallows a pot of beer at a public-house, he has all these expenses to help to defray, besides the mere tax on the malt and on the hops. 26. Well, then, to brew this ample supply of good beer for a labourer's family, these 274 gallons, requires _fifteen_ bushels of malt and (for let us do the thing well) _fifteen pounds of hops_. The malt is now eight shillings a bushel, and very good hops may be bought for less than a shilling a pound. The _grains_ and yeast will amply pay for the labour and fuel employed in the brewing; seeing that there will be pigs to eat the grains, and bread to be baked with the yeast. The account will then stand thus: _L._ _s._ _d._ 15 bushels of malt 6 0 0 15 pounds of hops 0 15 0 Wear of utensils 0 10 0 ----------- _L._ 7 5 0[4] 27. Here, then, is the sum of four pounds two shillings and twopence saved every year. The utensils for brewing are, a brass kettle, a mashing tub, coolers, (for which washing tubs may serve,) a half hogshead, with one end taken out, for a tun tub, about four nine-gallon casks, and a couple of eighteen-gallon casks. This is an ample supply of utensils, each of which will last, with proper care, a good long lifetime or two, and the whole of which, even if purchased new from the shop, will only exceed by a few shillings, if they exceed at all, the amount of the saving, arising _the very first year_, from quitting the troublesome and pernicious practice of drinking tea. The saving of each succeeding year would, if you chose it, purchase a silver mug to hold half a pint at least. However, the saving would naturally be applied to purposes more conducive to the well-being and happiness of a family. 28. It is not, however, the _mere saving_ to which I look. This is, indeed, a matter of great importance, whether we look at the amount itself, or at the ultimate consequences of a judicious application of it; for _four pounds_ make a great _hole_ in a man's wages for the year; and when we consider all the advantages that would arise to a family of children from having these four pounds, now so miserably wasted, laid out upon their backs, in the shape of a decent dress, it is impossible to look at this waste without feelings of sorrow not wholly unmixed with those of a harsher description. 29. But, I look upon the thing in a still more serious light. I view the tea drinking as a destroyer of health, an enfeebler of the frame, an engenderer of effeminacy and laziness, a debaucher of youth, and a maker of misery for old age. In the fifteen bushels of malt there are 570 pounds weight of _sweet_; that is to say, of nutricious matter, unmixed with any thing injurious to health. In the 730 tea messes of the year there are 54 pounds of sweet in the sugar, and about 30 pounds of matter equal to sugar in the milk. Here are 84 pounds instead of 570, and even the good effect of these 84 pounds is more than over-balanced by the corrosive, gnawing and poisonous powers of the tea. 30. It is impossible for any one to deny the truth of this statement. Put it to the test with a lean hog: give him the fifteen bushels of malt, and he will repay you in ten score of bacon or thereabouts. But give him the 730 tea messes, or rather begin to give them to him, and give him nothing else, and he is dead with hunger, and bequeaths you his skeleton, at the end of about seven days. It is impossible to doubt in such a case. The tea drinking has done a great deal in bringing this nation into the state of misery in which it now is; and the tea drinking, which is carried on by "dribs" and "drabs;" by pence and farthings going out at a time; this miserable practice has been gradually introduced by the growing weight of the taxes on malt and on hops, and by the everlasting penury amongst the labourers, occasioned by the paper-money. 31. We see better prospects however, and therefore let us now rouse ourselves, and shake from us the degrading curse, the effects of which have been much more extensive and infinitely more mischievous than men in general seem to imagine. 32. It must be evident to every one, that the practice of tea drinking must render the frame feeble and unfit to encounter hard labour or severe weather, while, as I have shown, it deducts from the means of replenishing the belly and covering the back. Hence succeeds a softness, an effeminacy, a seeking for the fire-side, a lurking in the bed, and, in short, all the characteristics of idleness, for which, in this case, real want of strength furnishes an apology. The tea drinking fills the public-house, makes the frequenting of it habitual, corrupts boys as soon as they are able to move from home, and does little less for the girls, to whom the gossip of the tea-table is no bad preparatory school for the brothel. At the very least, it teaches them idleness. The everlasting dawdling about with the slops of the tea tackle, gives them a relish for nothing that requires strength and activity. When they go from home, they know how to do nothing that is useful. To brew, to bake, to make butter, to milk, to rear poultry; to do any earthly thing of use they are wholly unqualified. To shut poor young creatures up in manufactories is bad enough; but there, at any rate, they do something that is useful; whereas, the girl that has been brought up merely to boil the tea-kettle, and to assist in the gossip inseparable from the practice, is a mere consumer of food, a pest to her employer, and a curse to her husband, if any man be so unfortunate as to fix his affections upon her. 33. But is it in the power of any man, any good labourer, who has attained the age of fifty, to look back upon the last thirty years of his life, without cursing the day in which tea was introduced into England? Where is there such a man, who cannot trace to this cause a very considerable part of all the mortifications and sufferings of his life? When was he ever _too late_ at his labour; when did he ever meet with a frown, with a turning off, and pauperism on that account, without being able to trace it to the tea-kettle? When reproached with lagging in the morning, the poor wretch tells you that he will make up for it by _working during his breakfast time_! I have heard this a hundred and a hundred times over. He was up time enough; but the tea-kettle kept him lolling and lounging at home; and now, instead of sitting down to a breakfast upon bread, bacon, and beer, which is to carry him on to the hour of dinner, he has to force his limbs along under the sweat of feebleness, and at dinner time to swallow his dry bread, or slake his half-feverish thirst at the pump or the brook. To the wretched tea-kettle he has to return at night, with legs hardly sufficient to maintain him; and thus he makes his miserable progress towards that death, which he finds ten or fifteen years sooner than he would have found it had he made his wife brew beer instead of making tea. If he now and then gladdens his heart with the drugs of the public house, some quarrel, some accident, some illness, is the probable consequence; to the affray abroad succeeds an affray at home; the mischievous example reaches the children, corrupts them or scatters them, and misery for life is the consequence. 34. I should now proceed to the _details_ of brewing; but these, though they will not occupy a large space, must be put off to the _second number_. The custom of brewing at home has so long ceased amongst labourers, and, in many cases, amongst tradesmen, that it was necessary for me fully to state my reasons for wishing to see the custom revived. I shall, in my next, clearly explain how the operation is performed; and it will be found to be so _easy a thing_, that I am not without hope, that many _tradesmen_, who now spend their evenings at the public house, amidst tobacco smoke and empty _noise_, may be induced, by the finding of better drink at home, at a quarter part of the price, to perceive that home is by far the pleasantest place wherein to pass their hours of relaxation. 35. My work is intended chiefly for the benefit of _cottagers_, who must, of course, have some _land_; for, I purpose to show, that a large part of the food of even a large family may be raised, without any diminution of the labourer's earnings abroad, from forty rod, or a quarter of an acre, of ground; but at the same time, what I have to say will be applicable to larger establishments, in all the branches of domestic economy: and especially to that of providing a family with _beer_. 36. The _kind of beer_, for a labourer's family, that is to say, the _degree of strength_, must depend on circumstances; on the numerousness of the family; on the season of the year, and various other things. But, generally speaking, beer _half_ the strength of that mentioned in paragraph 25 will be quite strong enough; for that is, at least, one-third stronger than the farm-house "_small beer_," which, however, as long experience has proved, is best suited to the purpose. A judicious labourer would probably always have some _ale_ in his house, and have small beer for the general drink. There is no reason why he should not keep _Christmas_ as well as the farmer; and when he is _mowing_, _reaping_, or is at any other hard work, a quart, or three pints, of _really good fat ale_ a-day is by no means too much. However, circumstances vary so much with different labourers, that as to the _sort_ of beer, and the number of brewings, and the times of brewing, no general rule can be laid down. 37. Before I proceed to explain the uses of the several brewing utensils, I must speak of the _quality_ of the materials of which beer is made; that is to say, the _malt_, _hops_, and _water_. Malt varies very much in quality, as, indeed, it must, with the quality of the barley. When good, it is full of flour, and in biting a grain asunder, you find it bite easily, and see the _shell thin_ and filled up well with flour. If it bite _hard_ and _steely_, the malt is bad. There is _pale_ malt and _brown_ malt; but the difference in the two arises merely from the different degrees of heat employed in the drying. The main thing to attend to is, the _quantity of flour_. If the barley was bad; _thin_, or _steely_, whether from unripeness or blight, or any other cause, it will not _malt_ so well; that is to say, it will not send out its roots in due time; and a part of it will still be barley. Then, the world is wicked enough to think, and even to say, that there are maltsters who, when they send you a bushel of malt, _put a little barley amongst it_, the malt being _taxed_ and the barley _not_! Let us hope that this is seldom the case; yet, when we _do know_ that this terrible system of taxation induces the beer-selling gentry to supply their customers with stuff little better than poison, it is not very uncharitable to suppose it possible for some maltsters to yield to the temptations of the devil so far as to play the trick above mentioned. To detect this trick, and to discover what portion of the barley is in an unmalted state, take a handful of the _unground_ malt, and put it into a bowl of cold water. Mix it about with the water a little; that is, let every grain be _just wet all over_; and whatever part of them _sink_ are not good. If you have your malt _ground_, there is not, as I know of, any means of detection. Therefore, if your brewing be considerable in amount, _grind your own malt_, the means of doing which is very easy, and neither expensive nor troublesome, as will appear, when I come to speak of _flour_. If the barley be _well malted_, there is still a variety in the quality of the malt; that is to say, a bushel of malt from fine, plump, heavy barley, will be better than the same quantity from thin and light barley. In this case, as in the case of wheat, the _weight_ is the criterion of the quality. Only bear in mind, that as a bushel of wheat, weighing _sixty-two_ pounds, is better worth _six_ shillings, than a bushel weighing _fifty-two_ is worth _four_ shillings, so a bushel of malt weighing _forty-five_ pounds is better worth _nine_ shillings, than a bushel weighing _thirty-five_ is worth _six_ shillings. In malt, therefore, as in every thing else, the word _cheap_ is a deception, unless the quality be taken into view. But, bear in mind, that in the case of _unmalted_ barley, mixed with the malt, the _weight_ can be no rule; for barley is _heavier_ than malt. No. II. BREWING BEER--(_continued._) 38. As to using _barley_ in the making of beer, I have given it a full and fair trial twice over, and I would recommend it to neither rich nor poor. The barley produces _strength_, though nothing like the malt; but the beer is _flat_, even though you use half malt and half barley; and flat beer lies heavy on the stomach, and of course, besides the bad taste, is unwholesome. To pay 4_s._ 6_d._ tax upon every bushel of our own barley, turned into malt, when the barley itself is not worth 3_s._ a bushel, is a horrid thing; but, as long as the owners of the land shall be so dastardly as to suffer themselves to be thus deprived of the use of their estates to favour the slave-drivers and plunderers of the East and West Indies, we must submit to the thing, incomprehensible to foreigners, and even to ourselves, as the submission may be. 39. With regard to _hops_, the quality is very various. At times when some sell for 5_s._ a pound, others sell for _sixpence_. Provided the purchaser understand the article, the quality is, of course, in proportion to the price. There are two things to be considered in hops: the _power of preserving beer_, and that of giving it a _pleasant flavour_. Hops may be _strong_; and yet not _good_. They should be _bright_, have no _leaves_ or bits of branches amongst them. The hop is the _husk_, or _seed-pod_, of the hop-vine, as the _cone_ is that of the fir-tree; and the _seeds_ themselves are deposited, like those of the fir, round a little soft stalk, enveloped by the several folds of this pod, or cone. If, in the gathering, leaves of the vine or bits of the branches are mixed with the hops, these not only help to make up the _weight_, but they give a _bad taste_ to the beer; and indeed, if they abound much, they spoil the beer. Great attention is therefore necessary in this respect. There are, too, numerous _sorts_ of hops, varying in size, form, and quality, quite as much as _apples_. However, when they are in a state to be used in brewing, the marks of goodness are an absence of _brown colour_, (for that indicates perished hops;) a colour _between green_ and _yellow_; a great _quantity of the yellow farina_; seeds _not too large nor too hard_; a _clammy feel_ when rubbed between the fingers; and a _lively_, pleasant smell. As to the _age_ of hops, they retain for twenty years, probably, their _power of preserving beer_; but not of giving it a pleasant flavour. I have used them at _ten years old_, and should have no fear of using them at twenty. They lose none of their _bitterness_; none of their power of preserving beer; but they lose the other quality; and therefore, in the making of fine ale, or beer, new hops are to be preferred. As to the _quantity_ of hops, it is clear, from what has been said, that that must, in some degree depend upon their _quality_; but, supposing them to be good in quality, a pound of hops to a bushel of malt is about the quantity. A good deal, however, depends upon the length of time that the beer is intended to be kept, and upon the season of the year in which it is brewed. Beer intended to be kept a long while should have the full pound, also beer brewed in warmer weather, though for present use: half the quantity may do under an opposite state of circumstances. 40. The _water_ should be soft by all means. That of brooks, or rivers, is best. That of a _pond_, fed by a rivulet, or spring, will do very well. _Rain-water_, if just fallen, may do; but stale rain-water, or stagnant pond-water, makes the beer _flat_ and difficult to keep; and _hard water_, from wells, is very bad; it does not get the sweetness out of the malt, nor the bitterness out of the hops, like soft water; and the wort of it does not ferment well, which is a certain proof of its unfitness for the purpose. 41. There are two descriptions of persons whom I am desirous to see brewing their own beer; namely, _tradesmen_, and _labourers_ and _journeymen_. There must, therefore, be two _distinct scales_ treated of. In the former editions of this work, I spoke of a _machine_ for brewing, and stated the advantages of using it in a family of any considerable consumption of beer; but, while, from my desire to promote _private brewing_, I strongly recommended the _machine_, I stated that, "if any of my readers could point out any method by which we should be more likely to restore the practice of private brewing, and especially to the _cottage_, I should be greatly obliged to them to communicate it to me." Such communications have been made, and I am very happy to be able, in this new edition of my little work, to avail myself of them. There was, in the _Patent Machine_, always, an objection on account of the _expense_; for, even the machine for _one bushel of malt_ cost, at the reduced price, _eight pounds_; a sum far above the reach of _a cottager_, and even above that of a small tradesman. Its _convenience_, especially in _towns_, where room is so valuable, was an object of great importance; but there were _disadvantages_ attending it which, until after some experience, I did not ascertain. It will be remembered that the method by the brewing machine requires the malt to be put into _the cold water_, and for the water to make the malt _swim_, or, at least, to be in such proportion as to prevent the fire beneath from burning the malt. We found that our beer was _flat_, and that it did _not keep_. And this arose, I have every reason to believe, from this process. The malt should be put _into hot water_, and the water, at first, should be but just sufficient in quantity to _stir the malt in_, and _separate it well_. Nevertheless, when it is merely to make _small beer_; beer _not wanted to keep_; in such cases the brewing machine may be of use; and, as will be seen by-and-by, a moveable _boiler_ (which has nothing to do with the _patent_) may, in many cases, be of great convenience and utility. 42. The two _scales_ of which I have spoken above, are now to be spoken of; and, that I may explain my meaning the more clearly, I shall suppose, that, for the tradesman's family, it will be requisite to brew eighteen gallons of ale and thirty-six of small beer, to fill three casks of eighteen gallons each. It will be observed, of course, that, for larger quantities, larger utensils of all sorts will be wanted. I take this quantity as the one to give directions on. The utensils wanted here will be, FIRST, a _copper_ that will contain _forty gallons_, at least; for, though there be to be but thirty-six gallons of small beer, there must be space for the hops, and for the liquor that goes off in steam. SECOND, a _mashing-tub_ to contain sixty gallons; for the malt is to be in this along with the water. THIRD, an _underbuck_, or shallow tub to go under the mash-tub, for the wort to run into when drawn from the grains. FOURTH, a _tun-tub_, that will contain thirty gallons, to put the ale into to work, the mash-tub, as we shall see, serving as a tun-tub for the small beer. Besides these, a couple of _coolers_, shallow tubs, which may be the heads of wine buts, or some such things, about a foot deep; or if you have _four_ it may be as well, in order to effect the cooling more quickly. 43. You begin by filling the copper with water, and next by making the water _boil_. You then put into the mashing-tub water sufficient _to stir and separate the malt in_. But now let me say more particularly what this mashing-tub is. It is, you know, to contain _sixty gallons_. It is to be a little broader at top than at bottom, and not quite so deep as it is wide across the bottom. Into the middle of the bottom there is a hole about two inches over, to draw the wort off through. In this hole goes a stick, a foot or two longer than the tub is high. This stick is to be about two inches through, and _tapered_ for about eight inches upwards at the end that goes into the hole, which at last it fills up closely as a cork. Upon the hole, before any thing else be put into the tub, you lay a little bundle of _fine birch_, (heath or straw _may_ do,) about half the bulk of a birch broom, and well tied at both ends. This being laid over the hole (to keep back the grains as the wort goes out,) you put the tapered end of the stick down through into the hole, and thus _cork_ the hole up. You must then have something of weight sufficient to keep the birch steady at the bottom of the tub, with a hole through it to slip down the stick; otherwise when the stick is raised it will be apt to raise the birch with it, and when you are stirring the mash you would move it from its place. The best thing for this purpose will be a _leaden collar_ for the stick, with the hole in the collar plenty large enough, and it should weigh three or four pounds. The thing they use in some farm-houses is the iron box of a wheel. Any thing will do that will slide down the stick, and lie with weight enough on the birch to keep it from moving. Now, then, you are ready to begin brewing. I allow _two bushels_ of malt for the brewing I have supposed. You must now put into the mashing-tub as much boiling water as will be sufficient to _stir the malt in_ and _separate it well_. But here occur some of the nicest points of all; namely, the _degree of heat_ that the water is to be at, before you put in the malt. This heat is _one hundred and seventy degrees_ by the thermometer. If you have a thermometer, this is ascertained easily; but, without one, take this rule, by which so much good beer has been made in England for hundreds of years: when you can, by looking down into the tub, _see your face clearly in the water_, the water is become cool enough; and you must not put the malt in before. Now put in the malt and _stir it well in the water_. To perform this stirring, which is very necessary, you have a stick, somewhat bigger than a broom-stick, with two or three smaller sticks, eight or ten inches long, put through the lower end of it at about three or four inches asunder, and sticking out on each side of the long stick. These small cross sticks serve to search the malt and separate it well in the stirring or _mashing_. Thus, then, the _malt is in_; and in this state it should continue for about a quarter of an hour. In the mean while you will have filled up your copper, and made it _boil_; and now (at the end of the quarter of an hour) you put in boiling water sufficient to give you your eighteen gallons of _ale_. But, perhaps, you must have thirty gallons of water in the whole; for the grains will retain at least ten gallons of water; and it is better to have rather too much wort than too little. When your proper quantity of water is in, stir the malt again well. Cover the mashing-tub over with _sacks_, or something that will answer the same purpose; and there let the mash stand for _two hours_. When it has stood the two hours, you draw off the wort. And now, mind, the mashing-tub is placed on a _couple of stools_, or on something, that will enable you to put the _underbuck_ under it, so as to receive the wort as it comes out of the hole before-mentioned. When you have put the underbuck in its place, you let out the wort by pulling up the stick that corks the whole. But, observe, this stick (which goes six or eight inches through the hole) must be raised by degrees, and the wort must be let out _slowly_, in order to keep back the _sediment_. So that it is necessary to have something to _keep the stick up_ at the point where you are to raise it, and wish to fix it at for the time. To do this, the simplest, cheapest and best thing in the world is a _cleft stick_. Take a _rod_ of ash, hazel, birch, or almost any wood; let it be a foot or two longer than your mashing-tub is wide over the top; _split_ it, as if for making hoops; tie it round with a string at each end; lay it across your mashing-tub; pull it open in the middle, and let the upper part of the wort-stick through it, and when you raise that stick, by degrees as before directed, the cleft stick _will hold it up_ at whatever height you please. 44. When you have drawn off the _ale-wort_, you proceed to put into the mashing tub water for the _small beer_. But, I shall go on with my directions about the _ale_ till I have got it into the _cask_ and _cellar_; and shall then return to the small-beer. 45. As you draw off the ale-wort into the underbuck, you must lade it out of that into the tun-tub, for which work, as well as for various other purposes in the brewing, you must have a _bowl-dish_ with a handle to it. The underbuck will not hold the whole of the wort. It is, as before described, a shallow tub, to go _under_ the mashing-tub to draw off the wort into. Out of this underbuck you must lade the ale-wort into the _tun-tub_; and there it must remain till your _copper_ be emptied and ready to receive it. 46. The copper being empty, you put the wort into it, and put in after the wort, or before it, _a pound and a half of good hops_, well rubbed and separated as you put them in. You now make the copper boil, and keep it, with the lid off, at a good _brisk_ boil, for a _full hour_, and if it be an hour and a half it is none the worse. 47. When the boiling is done, put out your fire, and put the liquor into the _coolers_. But it must be put into the coolers _without the hops_. Therefore, in order to get the hops out of the liquor, you must have a _strainer_. The best for your purpose is a small _clothes-basket_, or any other wicker-basket. You set your coolers in the most convenient place. It may be in-doors or out of doors, as most convenient. You lay a couple of sticks across one of the coolers, and put the basket upon them. Put your liquor, hops and all, into the basket, which will _keep back the hops_. When you have got liquor enough in one cooler, you go to another with your sticks and basket, till you have got all your liquor out. If you find your liquor deeper in one cooler than the other, you can make an alteration in that respect, till you have the liquor so distributed as to cool equally fast in both, or all, the coolers. 48. The next stage of the liquor is in the _tun-tub_, where it is _set to work_. Now, a very great point is, the _degree of heat_ that the liquor is to be at when it is set to working. The proper heat is seventy degrees; so that a thermometer makes this matter sure. In the country they determine the degree of heat by merely putting a finger into the liquor. Seventy degrees is but _just warm_, a gentle _luke-warmth_. Nothing like _heat_. A little experience makes perfectness in such a matter. When at the proper heat, or nearly, (for the liquor will cool a little in being removed,) put it into the _tun-tub_. And now, before I speak of the act of setting the beer to work, I must describe this _tun-tub_, which I first mentioned in Paragraph 42. It is to hold _thirty gallons_, as you have seen; and nothing is better than an old _cask_ of that size, or somewhat larger, with the head taken out, or cut off. But, indeed, any tub of sufficient dimensions, and of about the same depth proportioned to the width as a cask or barrel has, will do for the purpose. Having put the liquor into the tun-tub, you put in the _yeast_. About _half a pint_ of good yeast is sufficient. This should first be put into a thing of some sort that will hold about a gallon of your liquor; the thing should then be nearly filled with liquor, and with a stick or spoon you should mix the yeast well with the liquor in this bowl, or other thing, and stir in along with the yeast a handful of _wheat or rye flour_. This mixture is then to be poured out clean into the tun-tub, and the whole mass of the liquor is then to be agitated well by lading up and pouring down again with your bowl-dish, till the yeast be well mixed with the liquor. Some people do the thing in another manner. They mix up the yeast and flour with some liquor (as just mentioned) taken out of the coolers; and then they set the little vessel that contains this mixture down _on the bottom of the tun-tub_; and, leaving it there, put the liquor out of the coolers into the tun-tub. Being placed at the bottom, and having the liquor poured on it, the mixture is, perhaps, more perfectly effected in this way than in any way. The _flour_ may not be necessary; but, as the country people use it, it is, doubtless, of some use; for their hereditary experience has not been for nothing. When your liquor is thus properly put into the tun-tub and set a working, cover over the top of the tub by laying across it a sack or two, or something that will answer the purpose. 49. We now come to the _last stage_; the _cask_ or _barrel_. But I must first speak of the place for the tun-tub to stand in. The place should be such as to avoid too much warmth or cold. The air should, if possible, be at about 55 degrees. Any cool place in summer and any _warmish_ place in winter. If the weather be _very cold_, some cloths or sacks should be put round the tun-tub while the beer is working. In about six or eight hours, a _frothy_ head will rise upon the liquor; and it will keep rising, more or less slowly, for about forty-eight hours. But, the _length of time_ required for the working depends on various circumstances; so that no precise time can be fixed. The best way is, to take off the froth (which is indeed _yeast_) at the end of about twenty-four hours, with a common skimmer, and put it into a pan or vessel of some sort; then, in twelve hours' time, take it off again in the same way; and so on till the liquor has _done working_, and sends up no more yeast. Then it is _beer_; and when it is _quite cold_ (for _ale_ or _strong beer_) put it into the _cask_ by means of a _funnel_. It must be cold before you do this, or it will be what the country-people call _foxed_; that is to say, have a rank and disagreeable taste. Now, as to the _cask_, it must be _sound_ and _sweet_. I thought, when writing the former edition of this work, that the _bell-shaped_ were the best casks. I am now convinced that that was an error. The bell-shaped, by contracting the width of the top of the beer, as that top descends, in consequence of the draft for use, certainly prevents the _head_ (which always gathers on beer as soon as you begin to draw it off) from breaking and mixing in amongst the beer. This is an advantage in the bell-shape; but then the bell-shape, which places the widest end of the cask uppermost, exposes the cask to the admission of _external air_ much more than the other shape. This danger approaches from the _ends_ of the cask; and, in the bell-shape, you have the _broadest_ end wholly exposed the moment you have drawn out the first gallon of beer, which is not the case with the casks of the common shape. Directions are given, in the case of the bell-casks, to put _damp sand_ on the top to keep out the air. But, it is very difficult to make this effectual; and yet, if you do not keep out the air, your beer will be _flat_; and when flat, it really is good for nothing but the pigs. It is very difficult to _fill_ the bell-cask, which you will easily see if you consider its shape. It must be placed on the _level_ with the greatest possible _truth_, or there will be a space left; and to place it with such truth is, perhaps, as difficult a thing as a mason or bricklayer ever had to perform. And yet, if this be not done, there will be an _empty space_ in the cask, though it may, at the same time, run over. With the common casks there are none of these difficulties. A common eye will see when it is well placed; and, at any rate, any little vacant space that may be left is not at an _end_ of the cask, and will, without great carelessness, be so small as to be of no consequence. We now come to the act of putting in the beer. The cask should be placed on a stand with legs about a foot long. The cask, being round, must have a little wedge, or block, on each side to keep it steady. _Bricks_ do very well. Bring your beer down into the cellar in buckets, and pour it in through the funnel, until the cask be full. The cask should _lean a little on one side_, when you fill it; because the beer will _work again_ here, and send more yeast out of the bung-hole; and, if the cask were not a little on one side, the yeast would flow over both sides of the cask, and would not descend in _one stream_ into a pan, put underneath to receive it. Here the bell-cask is extremely inconvenient; for the yeast works up all _over the head_, and _cannot run off_, and makes a very nasty affair. This _alone_, to say nothing of the other disadvantages, would decide the question against the bell-casks. Something will _go off in this working_, which may continue for two or three days. When you put the beer in the cask, you should have a _gallon or two left_, to keep filling up with as the working produces emptiness. At last, when the working is completely over, _right_ the cask. That is to say, block it up to its level. Put in a handful of _fresh hops_. Fill the cask quite full. Put in the bung, with a bit of _coarse linen_ stuff round it; hammer it down tight; and, if you like, fill a coarse bag with sand, and lay it, well pressed down, over the bung. 50. As to the length of time that you are to keep the beer before you begin to use it, that must, in some measure, depend on taste. _Such beer_ as this _ale_ will keep almost any length of time. As to the mode of _tapping_, that is as easy almost as _drinking_. When the cask is _empty_, great care must be taken to cork it _tightly up_, so that no air get in; for, if it do, the cask is _moulded_, and when once moulded, it is _spoiled for ever_. It is never again fit to be used about beer. Before the cask be used again, the grounds must be poured out, and the cask cleaned by several times scalding; by putting in _stones_ (or a _chain_,) and rolling and shaking about till it be quite clean. Here again the round casks have the decided advantage; it being almost impossible to make the bell-casks thoroughly clean, without _taking the head out_, which is both troublesome and expensive; as it cannot be well done by any one but a _cooper_, who is not always at hand, and who, when he is, must be _paid_. 51. I have now done with the _ale_, and it remains for me to speak of the _small beer_. In Paragraph 47 (which now see) I left you drawing off the _ale-wort_, and with your copper full of boiling water. Thirty-six gallons of that boiling water are, as soon as you have got your ale-wort out, and have put down your mash-tub stick to close up the hole at the bottom; as soon as you have done this, thirty-six gallons of the boiling water are to go into the mashing-tub; the grains are to be well stirred up, as before; the mashing-tub is to be covered over again, as mentioned in Paragraph 43; and the mash is to stand in that state for _an hour_, and not two hours, as for the ale-wort. 52. When the small beer mash has stood its hour, draw it off as in Paragraph 47, and put it into the tun-tub as you did the ale-wort. 53. By this time your copper will be _empty_ again, by putting your ale-liquor to cool, as mentioned in Paragraph 47. And you now put the small beer wort _into the copper_, with the hops that you used before, and with _half a pound of fresh hops_ added to them; and this liquor you boil briskly for _an hour_. 54. By this time you will have taken the grains and the sediment clean out of the mashing-tub, and taken out the bunch of birch twigs, and made all clean. Now put in the birch twigs again, and put down your stick as before. Lay your two or three sticks across the mashing-tub, put your basket on them, and take your liquor from the copper (putting the fire out first) and pour it into the mashing-tub through the basket. Take the basket away, throw the hops to the dunghill, and leave the small beer liquid _to cool in the mashing-tub_. 55. Here it is to remain to be _set to working_ as mentioned for the ale, in Paragraph 48; only, in this case, you will want _more yeast in proportion_; and should have for your thirty-six gallons of small beer, three half pints of good yeast. 56. Proceed, as to all the rest of the business, as with the ale, only, in the case of the small beer, it should be put into the cask, not _quite cold_, but a _little warm_; or else it will not work at all in the barrel, which it ought to do. It will not work so strongly or so long as the ale; and may be put in the barrel much sooner; in general the next day after it is brewed. 57. All the utensils should be well cleaned and put away as soon as they are done with; the _little_ things as well as the great things; for it is _loss of time_ to make new ones. And, now, let us see the _expense_ of these utensils. The copper, _new_, 5_l._; the mashing-tub, _new_, 30_s._; the tun-tub, not new, 5_s._; the underbuck and three coolers, not new, 20_s._ The whole cost is 7_l._ 10_s._ which is ten shillings less than the _one bushel machine_. I am now in a farm-house, where the _same set_ of utensils has been used for _forty years_; and the owner tells me, that, with the same use, they may last for _forty years longer_. The machine will not, I think, last _four years_, if in any thing like regular use. It is of sheet-iron, _tinned on the inside_, and this tin _rusts_ exceedingly, and is not to be kept clean without such _rubbing_ as must soon take off the tin. The great advantage of the machine is, that it can be _removed_. You can brew without a _brew-house_.--You can set the boiler up against any fire-place, or any window. You can brew under a cart-shed, and even out of doors. But all this may be done with _these utensils_, if your _copper_ be moveable. Make the boiler of _copper_, and not of sheet-iron, and fix it on a stand with a fire-place and stove-pipe; and then you have the whole to brew out of doors with as well as in-doors, which is a very great convenience. 58. Now with regard to the _other_ scale of brewing, little need be said; because, all the principles being the same, the utensils only are to be proportioned to the _quantity_. If only one sort of beer be to be brewed at a time, all the difference is, that, in order to extract the whole of the goodness of the malt, the mashing ought to be at _twice_. The two worts are then put together, and then you boil them together with the hops. 59. A Correspondent at _Morpeth_ says, the whole of the utensils used by him are a twenty-gallon _pot_, a mashing-tub, that also answers for a tun-tub, and a shallow tub for a cooler; and that these are plenty for a person who is any thing of a contriver. This is very true; and these things will cost no more, perhaps, than _forty shillings_. A nine gallon cask of beer can be brewed very well with such utensils. Indeed, it is what used to be done by almost every labouring man in the kingdom, until the high price of malt and comparatively low price of wages rendered the people too poor and miserable to be able to brew at all. A Correspondent at Bristol has obligingly sent me the model of utensils for _brewing on a small scale_; but as they consist chiefly of _brittle ware_, I am of opinion that they would not so well answer the purpose. 60. Indeed, as to the country labourers, all they want is the ability to _get the malt_. Mr. ELLMAN, in his evidence before the Agricultural Committee, said, that, when he began farming, forty-five years ago, there was not a labourer's family in the parish that did not brew their own beer and enjoy it by their own fire-sides; and that, _now, not one single family did it, from want of ability to get the malt_. It is the _tax_ that prevents their getting the malt; for, the barley is cheap enough. The tax causes a monopoly in the hands of the maltsters, who, when the tax is _two_ and _sixpence_, make the malt, cost 7_s._ 6_d._, though the barley cost but 2_s._ 6_d._; and though the malt, tax and all, ought to cost him about 5_s._ 6_d._ If the tax were taken off, this _pernicious monopoly_ would be destroyed. 61. The reader will easily see, that, in proportion to the quantity wanted to be brewed must be the size of the utensils; but, I may observe here, that the above utensils are sufficient for three, or even four, bushels of malt, if stronger beer be wanted. 62. When it is necessary, in case of falling short in the quantity wanted to fill up the ale cask, some may be taken from the small beer. But, upon the _whole brewing_, there ought to be no falling short; because, if the casks be not _filled up_, the beer will not be good, and certainly will not _keep_. Great care should be taken as to the _cleansing_ of the _casks_. They should be made perfectly _sweet_; or it is impossible to have good beer. 63. The cellar, for beer to keep any length of time, should be cool. Under _a hill_ is the best place for a cellar; but, at any rate, a cellar of good depth, and _dry_. At certain times of the year, beer that is kept long will ferment. The vent-pegs must, in such cases, be loosened a little, and afterwards fastened. 64. Small beer may be tapped almost directly. It is a sort of joke that it should _see a Sunday_; but, that it may do before it be two days old. In short, any beer is better than water; but it should have some strength and some _weeks_ of age at any rate. 65. I cannot conclude this Essay without expressing my pleasure, that a law has been recently passed to authorize the general retail of beer. This really seems necessary to prevent the King's subjects from being _poisoned_. The brewers and porter quacks have carried their tricks to such an extent, that there is _no safety_ for those who drink brewer's beer. 66. The best and most effectual thing is, however, for people to _brew their own beer_, to enable them and induce them to do which, I have done all that lies in my power. A longer treatise on the subject would have been of no use. These few plain directions will suffice for those who have a disposition to do the thing, and those who have not would remain unmoved by any thing that I could say. 67. There seems to be a _great number of things to do_ in brewing, but the greater part of them require only about a _minute_ each. A brewing, such as I have given the detail of above, may be completed in _a day_; but, by the word _day_, I mean to include the _morning_, beginning at four o'clock. 68. The putting of the beer into barrel is not more than an hour's work for a servant woman, or a tradesman's or a farmer's wife. There is no _heavy_ work, no work too heavy for a woman in any part of the business, otherwise I would not recommend it to be performed by the women, who, though so amiable in themselves, are never quite so amiable as when they are _useful_; and as to beauty, though men may fall in love with girls at _play_, there is nothing to make them stand to their love like seeing them at _work_. In conclusion of these remarks on beer brewing, I once more express my most anxious desire to see abolished for ever the accursed tax on _malt_, which, I verily believe, has done more harm to the people of England than was ever done to any people by plague, pestilence, famine, and civil war. 69. In Paragraph 76, in Paragraph 108, and perhaps in another place or two (of the last edition,) I spoke of the _machine_ for brewing. The work being _stereotyped_, it would have been troublesome to alter those paragraphs; but, of course, the public, in reading them, will bear in mind what has been _now_ said relative to the _machine_. The inventor of that machine deserves great praise for his efforts to promote private brewing; and, as I said before, in certain confined situations, and where the beer is to be merely _small beer_, and for _immediate use_, and where _time_ and _room_ are of such importance as to make the _cost_ of the machine comparatively of trifling consideration, the machine may possibly be found to be an useful utensil. 70. Having stated the inducements to the brewing of beer, and given the plainest directions that I was able to give for the doing of the thing, I shall, next, proceed to the subject of _bread_. But this subject is too large and of too much moment to be treated with brevity, and must, therefore, be put off till my next Number. I cannot, in the mean while, dismiss the subject of _brewing beer_ without once more adverting to its many advantages, as set forth in the foregoing Number of this work. 71. The following instructions for the making of _porter_, will clearly show what sort of stuff is sold at _public-houses_ in London; and we may pretty fairly suppose that the public-house beer in the country is not superior to it in quality, "A quarter of malt, with these ingredients, will make _five barrels of good porter_. Take one quarter of high-coloured malt, eight pounds of hops, nine pounds of _treacle_, eight pounds of _colour_, eight pounds of sliced _liquorice-root_, two drams of _salt of tartar_, two ounces of _Spanish-liquorice_, and half an ounce of _capsicum_." The author says, that he merely gives the ingredients, as _used by many persons_. 72. This extract is taken from a _book on brewing_, recently published in London. What a curious composition! What a mess of drugs! But, if the brewers _openly avow_ this, what have we to expect from the _secret practices_ of them, and the _retailers_ of the article! When we know, that _beer-doctor_ and _brewers'-druggist_ are professions, practised as openly as those of _bug-man_ and _rat-killer_, are we simple enough to suppose that the above-named are the _only_ drugs that people swallow in those potions, which they call _pots of beer_? Indeed, we know the contrary; for scarcely a week passes without witnessing the detection of some greedy wretch, who has used, in making or in _doctoring_ his beer, drugs, forbidden by the law. And, it is not many weeks since one of these was convicted, in the Court of Excise, for using potent and dangerous drugs, by the means of which, and a suitable quantity of water, he made _two buts of beer into three_. Upon this occasion, it appeared that no less than _ninety_ of these worthies were in the habit of pursuing the same practices. The drugs are not unpleasant to the taste; they sting the palate: they give a present relish: they communicate a momentary exhilaration: but, they give no force to the body, which, on the contrary, they enfeeble, and, in many instances, with time, destroy; producing diseases from which the drinker would otherwise have been free to the end of his days. 73. But, look again at the receipt for making porter. Here are _eight_ bushels of malt to 180 gallons of beer; that is to say, twenty-fire gallons from the bushel. Now the malt is eight shillings a bushel, and eight pounds of the very _best hops_ will cost but a shilling a pound. The malt and hops, then, for the 180 gallons, cost but _seventy-two shillings_; that is to say, only a little more than _fourpence three farthings a gallon_, for stuff which is now retailed for _sixteen pence a gallon_! If this be not an abomination, I should be glad to know what is. Even if the treacle, colour, and the drugs, be included, the cost is not _fivepence a gallon_; and yet, not content with this enormous extortion, there are wretches who resort to the use of other and pernicious drugs, in order to increase their gains! 74. To provide against this dreadful evil there is, and there can be, no _law_; for, it is _created by the law_. The _law_ it is that imposes the enormous tax on the _malt_ and _hops_; the _law_ it is that imposes the _license tax_, and places the power of granting the license at the discretion of persons appointed by the government; the _law_ it is that checks, in this way, the private brewing, and that prevents _free and fair competition_ in the selling of beer, and as long as the _law_ does these, it will in vain endeavour to prevent the people from being destroyed by slow poison. 75. Innumerable are the benefits that would arise from a repeal of the taxes on malt and on hops. Tippling-houses might then be shut up with justice and propriety. The labourer, the artisan, the tradesman, the landlord, all would instantly feel the benefit. But the _landlord_ more, perhaps, in this case, than any other member of the community. The four or five pounds a year which the day-labourer now drizzles away in tea-messes, he would divide with the farmer, if he had untaxed beer. His wages would _fall_, and fall to his _advantage_ too. The fall of wages would be not less than 40_l._ upon a hundred acres. Thus 40_l._ would go, in the end, a fourth, perhaps to the farmer, and three-fourths to the landlord. This is the kind of work to _reduce poor-rates_, and to restore _husbandry to prosperity_. Undertaken this work _must_ be, and _performed too_; but whether we shall see this until the estates have passed away from the _present race_ of landlords, is a question which must be referred to _time_. 76. Surely we may hope, that, when the American farmers shall see this little Essay, they will begin seriously to think of leaving off the use of the liver-burning and palsy-producing _spirits_. Their _climate_, indeed, is something: _extremely hot_ in one part of the year, and _extremely cold_ in the other part of it. Nevertheless, they may have, and do have, very good beer if they will. _Negligence_ is the greatest impediment in their way. I like the Americans very much; and that, if there were no other, would be a reason for my not hiding their faults. No. III. MAKING BREAD. 77. Little time need be spent in dwelling on the necessity of _this_ article to all families; though, on account of the modern custom of using _potatoes_ to supply the place of _bread_, it seems necessary to say a few words here on the subject, which, in another work I have so amply, and, I think, so triumphantly discussed. I am the more disposed to revive the subject for a moment, in this place, from having read, in the evidence recently given before the Agricultural Committee, that many labourers, especially in the West of England, use potatoes _instead_ of bread to a very great extent. And I find, from the same evidence, that it is the custom to allot to labourers "_a potatoe ground_" in part payment of their wages! This has a tendency to bring English labourers down to the state of the Irish, whose mode of living, as to food, is but one remove from that of the pig, and of the ill-fed pig too. 78. I was, in reading the above-mentioned Evidence, glad to find, that Mr. EDWARD WAKEFIELD, the best informed and most candid of all the witnesses, gave it as his opinion, that the increase which had taken place in the cultivation of potatoes was "_injurious to the country_;" an opinion which must, I think, be adopted by every one who takes the trouble to reflect a little upon the subject. For leaving out of the question the slovenly and beastly habits engendered amongst the labouring classes by constantly lifting their principal food at once out of the earth to their mouths, by eating without the necessity of any implements other than the hands and the teeth, and by dispensing with everything requiring skill in the preparation of the food, and requiring cleanliness in its consumption or preservation; leaving these out of the question, though they are all matters of great moment, when we consider their effects in the rearing of a family, we shall find, that, in mere quantity of food, that is to say of _nourishment_, bread is the preferable diet. 79. An acre of land that will produce 300 bushels of potatoes, will produce 32 bushels of wheat. I state this as an average fact, and am not at all afraid of being contradicted by any one well acquainted with husbandry. The potatoes are supposed to be of a _good sort_, as it is called, and the wheat may be supposed to weigh 60 pounds a bushel. It is a fact clearly established, that, after the _water_, the _stringy_ substance, and the _earth_, are taken from the potatoe, there remains only one _tenth_ of the rough raw weight of nutritious matter, or matter which is deemed equally nutritious with bread, and, as the raw potatoes weigh 56lb. a bushel, the acre will yield 1,830lb. of nutritious matter. Now mind, a bushel of wheat, weighing 60lb. will make of _household bread_ (that is to say, taking out only the _bran_) 65lb. Thus, the acre yields 2,080lb. of bread. As to the _expenses_, the seed and act of planting are about equal in the two cases. But, while the potatoes _must_ have cultivation during their growth, the wheat needs none; and while the wheat straw is worth from three to five pounds an acre, the haulm of the potatoes is not worth one single truss of that straw. Then, as to the expense of gathering, housing, and keeping the potatoe crop, it is enormous, besides the risk of loss by frost, which may be safely taken, on an average, at a tenth of the crop. Then comes the expense of _cooking_. The thirty-two bushels of wheat, supposing a bushel to be baked at a time, (which would be the case in a large family,) would demand _thirty-two heatings of the oven_. Suppose a bushel of potatoes to be cooked every day in order to supply the place of this bread, then we have _nine hundred boilings of the pot_, unless _cold potatoes_ be eaten at some of the meals; and, in that case, the diet must be _cheering_ indeed! Think of the _labour_; think of the _time_; think of all the peelings and scrapings and washings and messings attending these _nine hundred boilings of the pot_! For it must be a considerable time before English people can be brought to eat potatoes in the Irish style; that is to say, scratch them out of the earth with their paws, toss them into a pot without washing, and when boiled, turn them out upon a dirty board, and then sit round that board, peel the skin and dirt from one at a time and eat the inside. Mr. Curwen was delighted with "_Irish hospitality_," because the people there receive no parish relief; upon which I can only say, that I wish him the exclusive benefit of such hospitality. 80. I have here spoken of a large quantity of each of the sorts of food. I will now come to a comparative view, more immediately applicable to a labourer's family. When wheat is _ten_ shillings the bushel, potatoes, bought at best hand, (I am speaking of the country generally,) are about _two_ shillings (English) a bushel. Last spring the average price of wheat might be _six and sixpence_, (English;) and the average price of potatoes (in small quantities) was about _eighteen-pence_; though, by the wagon-load, I saw potatoes bought at a _shilling_ (English) a bushel, to give to sheep; then, observe, these were of the coarsest kind, and the farmer had to fetch them at a considerable expense. I think, therefore, that I give the advantage to the potatoes when I say that they sell, upon an average, for full a _fifth_ part as much as the wheat sells for, per bushel, while they contain four pounds less weight than the bushel of wheat; while they yield only five pounds and a half of nutritious matter equal to bread; and while the bushel of wheat will yield _sixty-five pounds of bread_, besides the ten pounds of bran. Hence it is clear, that, instead of that _saving_, which is everlastingly dinned in our ears, from the use of potatoes, there is a _waste of more than one half_; seeing that, when wheat is _ten shillings_ (English) the bushel, you can have _sixty-five pounds of bread for the ten shillings_; and can have out of potatoes only five pounds and a half of nutritious matter equal to bread for _two shillings_! (English.) This being the case, I trust that we shall soon hear no more of those _savings_ which the labourer makes by the use of potatoes; I hope we shall, in the words of Dr. DRENNAN, "leave Ireland to her _lazy_ root," if she choose still to adhere to it. It is the root, also, of slovenliness, filth, misery, and slavery; its cultivation has increased in England with the increase of the paupers: both, I thank God, are upon the decline. Englishmen seem to be upon the return to beer and bread, from water and potatoes: and, therefore, I shall now proceed to offer some observations to the cottager, calculated to induce him to bake his own bread. 81. As I have before stated, sixty pounds of wheat, that is to say, where the Winchester bushel weighs sixty pounds, will make sixty-five pounds of bread, besides the leaving of about ten pounds of bran. This is household bread, made of flour from which the bran only is taken. If you make fine flour, you take out pollard, as they call it, as well as bran, and then you have a smaller quantity of bread and a greater quantity of offal; but, even of this finer bread, bread equal in fineness to the baker's bread, you get from _fifty-eight to fifty-nine_ pounds out of the bushel of wheat. Now, then, let us see how many quartern loaves you get out of the bushel of wheat, supposing it to be fine flour, in the first place. You get thirteen quartern loaves and a half; these cost you, at the present average price of wheat (seven and sixpence a bushel,) in the first place 7_s_. 6_d._;[5] then 3_d._ for yeast; then not more than 3_d._ for grinding; because you have about thirteen pounds of offal, which is worth more than a 1/2_d._ a pound, while the grinding is 9_d._ a bushel. Thus, then, the bushel of bread of fifty-nine pounds costs you _eight shillings_; and it yields you the weight of thirteen and a half quartern loaves: these quartern loaves _now_ (Dec. 1821) sell at Kensington, at the baker's shop, at 1_s._ 1/2_d._; that is to say, the thirteen quartern loaves and a half cost 14_s._ 7-1/2_d._ I omitted to mention the salt, which would cost you 4_d._ more. So that, here is 6_s._ 3-1/2_d._ saved upon the baking of a bushel of bread. The baker's quartern loaf is indeed cheaper in the country than at Kensington, by, probably, a penny in the loaf; which would still, however, leave a saving of 5_s._ upon the bushel of bread. But, besides this, pray think a little of the materials of which the baker's loaf is composed. The _alum_, the _ground potatoes_, and other materials; it being a notorious fact, that the bakers, in London at least, have _mills_ wherein to grind their potatoes; so large is the scale upon which they use that material. It is probable, that, out of a bushel of wheat, they make between _sixty_ and _seventy_ pounds of bread, though they have no more _flour_, and, of course, no more nutritious matter, than you have in your fifty-nine pounds of bread. But, at the least, supposing their bread to be as good as yours in quality, you have, allowing a shilling for the heating of the oven, a clear 4_s._ saved upon every bushel of bread. If you consume half a bushel a week, that is to say about a quartern loaf a day, this is a saving of 5_l._ 4_s._ a year, or full a sixth part, if not a fifth part, of the earnings of a labourer in husbandry. 82. How wasteful, then, and, indeed, how shameful, for a labourer's wife to go to the baker's shop; and how negligent, how criminally careless of the welfare of his family, must the labourer be, who permits so scandalous a use of the proceeds of his labour! But I have hitherto taken a view of the matter the least possibly advantageous to the home-baked bread. For, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the fuel for heating the oven costs very little. The hedgers, the copsers, the woodmen of all descriptions, have fuel for little or nothing. At any rate, to heat the oven cannot, upon an average, take the country through, cost the labourer more than 6_d._ a bushel. Then, again, fine flour need not ever be used, and ought not to be used. This adds six pounds of bread to the bushel, or nearly another quartern loaf and a half, making nearly fifteen quartern loaves out of the bushel of wheat. The finest flour is by no means the most wholesome; and, at any rate, there is more nutritious matter in a pound of household bread than in a pound of baker's bread. Besides this, rye, and even barley, especially when mixed with wheat, make very good bread. Few people upon the face of the earth live better than the Long Islanders. Yet nine families out of ten seldom eat wheaten-bread. Rye is the flour that they principally make use of. Now, rye is seldom more than two-thirds the price of wheat, and barley is seldom more than half the price of wheat. Half rye and half wheat, taking out a little more of the offal, make very good bread. Half wheat, a quarter rye and a quarter barley, nay, one-third of each, make bread that I could be very well content to live upon all my lifetime; and, even barley alone, if the barley be good, and none but the finest flour taken out of it, has in it, measure for measure, ten times the nutrition of potatoes. Indeed the fact is well known, that our forefathers used barley bread to a very great extent. Its only fault, with those who dislike it, is its sweetness, a fault which we certainly have not to find with the baker's loaf, which has in it little more of the _sweetness_ of grain than is to be found in the offal which comes from the sawings of deal boards. The nutritious nature of barley is amply proved by the effect, and very rapid effect, of its meal, in the fatting of hogs and of poultry of all descriptions. They will fatten quicker upon meal of barley than upon any other thing. The flesh, too, is sweeter than that proceeding from any other food, with the exception of that which proceeds from _buck wheat_, a grain little used in England. That proceeding from Indian corn is, indeed, still sweeter and finer; but this is wholly out of the question with us. 83. I am, by-and-by, to speak of the _cow_ to be kept by the labourer in husbandry. Then there will be _milk_ to wet the bread with, an exceedingly great improvement in its taste as well as in its quality! This, of all the ways of using skim milk, is the most advantageous: and this great advantage must be wholly thrown away, if the bread of the family be bought at the shop. With milk, bread with very little wheat in it may be made far better than baker's bread; and, leaving the milk out of the question, taking a third of each sort of grain, you would get bread weighing as much as fourteen quartern loaves, for about 5_s._ 9_d._ at present prices of grain; that is to say, you would get it for about 5_d._ the quartern loaf, all expenses included; thus you have nine pounds and ten ounces of bread a day for about 5_s._ 9_d._ a week. Here is enough for a very large family. Very few labourers' families can want so much as this, unless indeed there be several persons in it capable of earning something by their daily labour. Here is cut and come again. Here is bread always for the table. Bread to carry a field; always a hunch of bread ready to put into the hand of a hungry child. We hear a great deal about "_children crying for bread_," and objects of compassion they and their parents are, when the latter have not the means of obtaining a sufficiency of bread. But I should be glad to be informed, how it is possible for a labouring man, who earns, upon an average, 10_s._ a week, who has not more than four children (and if he have more, some ought to be doing something;) who has a garden of a quarter of an acre of land (for that makes part of my plan;) who has a wife as industrious as she ought to be; who does not waste his earnings at the ale-house or the tea shop: I should be glad to know how such a man, while wheat shall be at the price of about 6_s._ a bushel, _can possibly have children crying for bread_! 84. Cry, indeed, they must, if he will persist in giving 13_s._ for a bushel of bread instead of 5_s._ 9_d._ Such a man is not to say that the bread which I have described is _not good enough_. It was good enough for his forefathers, who were too proud to be paupers, that is to say, abject and willing slaves. "Hogs eat barley." And hogs will eat wheat, too, when they can get at it. Convicts in condemned cells eat wheaten bread; but we think it no degradation to eat wheaten bread, too. I am for depriving the labourer of none of his rights; I would have him oppressed in no manner or shape; I would have him bold and free; but to have him such, he must have bread in his house, sufficient for all his family, and whether that bread be fine or coarse must depend upon the different circumstances which present themselves in the cases of different individuals. 85. The married man has no right to expect the same plenty of food and of raiment that the single man has. The time before marriage is the time to lay by, or, if the party choose, to indulge himself in the absence of labour. To marry is a voluntary act, and it is attended in the result with great pleasures and advantages. If, therefore, the laws be fair and equal; if the state of things be such that a labouring man can, with the usual ability of labourers, and with constant industry, care and sobriety; with decency of deportment towards all his neighbours, cheerful obedience to his employer, and a due subordination to the laws; if the state of things be such, that such a man's earnings be sufficient to maintain himself and family with food, raiment, and lodging needful for them; such a man has no reason to complain; and no labouring man has reason to complain, if the numerousness of his family should call upon him for extraordinary exertion, or for frugality uncommonly rigid. The man with a large family has, if it be not in a great measure his own fault, a greater number of pleasures and of blessings than other men. If he be wise, and _just_ as well as wise, he will see that it is reasonable for him to expect less delicate fare than his neighbours, who have a less number of children, or no children at all. He will see the justice as well as the necessity of his resorting to the use of coarser bread, and thus endeavour to make up that, or at least a part of that, which he loses in comparison with his neighbours. The quality of the bread ought, in every case, to be proportioned to the number of the family and the means of the head of that family. Here is no injury to health proposed; but, on the contrary, the best security for its preservation. Without bread, all is misery. The Scripture truly calls it the staff of life; and it may be called, too, the pledge of peace and happiness in the labourer's dwelling. 86. As to the act of making bread, it would be shocking indeed if that had to be taught by the means of books. Every woman, high or low, ought to know how to make bread. If she do not, she is unworthy of trust and confidence; and, indeed, a mere burden upon the community. Yet, it is but too true, that many women, even amongst those who have to get their living by their labour, know nothing of the making of bread; and seem to understand little more about it than the part which belongs to its consumption. A Frenchman, a Mr. CUSAR, who had been born in the West Indies, told me, that till he came to Long Island, he never knew _how the flour came_: that he was surprised when he learnt that it was squeezed out of little grains that grew at the tops of straw; for that he had always had an idea that it was got out of some large substances, like the yams that grow in tropical climates. He was a very sincere and good man, and I am sure he told me truth. And this may be the more readily believed, when we see so many women in England, who seem to know no more of the constituent parts of a loaf than they know of those of the moon. Servant women in abundance appear to think that loaves are made by the baker, as knights are made by the king; things of their pure creation, a creation, too, in which no one else can participate. Now, is not this an enormous evil? And whence does it come? Servant women are the children of the labouring classes; and they would all know how to make bread, and know well how to make it too, if they had been fed on bread of their mother's and their own making. 87. How serious a matter, then, is this, even in this point of view! A servant that cannot make bread is not entitled to the same wages as one that can. If she can neither bake nor brew; if she be ignorant of the nature of flour, yeast, malt, and hops, what is she good for? If she understand these matters well; if she be able to supply her employer with bread and with beer, she is really _valuable_; she is entitled to good wages, and to consideration and respect into the bargain; but if she be wholly deficient in these particulars, and can merely dawdle about with a bucket and a broom, she can be of very little consequence; to lose her, is merely to lose a consumer of food, and she can expect very little indeed in the way of desire to make her life easy and pleasant. Why should any one have such desire? She is not a child of the family. She is not a relation. Any one as well as she can take in a loaf from the baker, or a barrel of beer from the brewer. She has nothing whereby to bind her employer to her. To sweep a room any thing is capable of that has got two hands. In short, she has no useful skill, no useful ability; she is an ordinary drudge, and she is treated accordingly. 88. But, if such be her state in the house of an employer, what is her state in the house of a _husband_? The lover is blind; but the husband has eyes to see with. He soon discovers that there is something wanted besides dimples and cherry cheeks; and I would have fathers seriously reflect, and to be well assured, that the way to make their daughters to be long admired, beloved and respected by their husbands, is to make them skilful, able and active in the most necessary concerns of a family. Eating and drinking come three times every day; the preparations for these, and all the ministry necessary to them, belong to the wife; and I hold it to be impossible, that at the end of two years, a really ignorant, sluttish wife should possess any thing worthy of the name of love from her husband. This, therefore, is a matter of far greater moment to the father of a family, than, whether the Parson of the parish, or the Methodist Priest, be the most "_Evangelical_" of the two; for it is here a question of the daughter's happiness or misery for life. And I have no hesitation to say, that if I were a labouring man, I should prefer teaching my daughters to bake, brew, milk, make butter and cheese, to teaching them to read the Bible till they had got every word of it by heart; and I should think, too, nay I should know, that I was in the former case doing my duty towards God as well as towards my children. 89. When we see a family of dirty, ragged little creatures, let us inquire into the cause; and ninety-nine times out of every hundred we shall find that the parents themselves have been brought up in the same way. But a consideration which ought of itself to be sufficient, is the contempt in which a husband will naturally hold a wife that is ignorant of the matters necessary to the conducting of a family. A woman who understands all the things above mentioned, is really a skilful person; a person worthy of respect, and that will be treated with respect too, by all but brutish employers or brutish husbands; and such, though sometimes, are not very frequently found. Besides, if natural justice and our own interest had not the weight which they have, such valuable persons will be treated with respect. They know their own worth; and, accordingly, they are more careful of their character, more careful not to lessen by misconduct the value which they possess from their skill and ability. 90. Thus, then, the interest of the labourer; his health; the health of his family; the peace and happiness of his home; the prospects of his children through life; their skill, their ability, their habits of cleanliness, and even their moral deportment; all combine to press upon him the adoption and the constant practice of this branch of domestic economy. "Can she _bake_?" is the question that I always put. If she can, she is _worth a pound or two a year more_. Is that nothing? Is it nothing for a labouring man to make his four or five daughters worth eight or ten pounds a year more; and that too while he is by the same means providing the more plentifully for himself and the rest of his family? The reasons on the side of the thing that I contend for are endless; but if this one motive be not sufficient, I am sure, all that I have said, and all that I could say, must be wholly unavailing. 91. Before, however, I dismiss this subject, let me say a word or two to those persons who do not come under the denomination of labourers. In London, or in any very large town where the space is so confined, and where the proper fuel is not handily to be come at and stored for use, to bake your own bread may be attended with too much difficulty; but in all other situations there appears to me to be hardly any excuse for not baking bread at home. If the family consist of twelve or fourteen persons, the money actually saved in this way (even at present prices) would be little short of from twenty to thirty pounds a year. At the utmost here is only the time of one woman occupied one day in the week. Now mind, here are twenty-five pounds to be employed in some way different from that of giving it to the baker. If you add five of these pounds to a woman's wages, is not that full as well employed as giving it in wages to the baker's men? Is it not better employed for you? and is it not better employed for the community? It is very certain, that if the practice were as prevalent as I could wish, there would be a large deduction from the regular baking population; but would there be any harm if less alum were imported into England, and if some of those youths were left at the plough, who are now bound in apprenticeships to learn the art and mystery of doing that which every girl in the kingdom ought to be taught to do by her mother? It ought to be a maxim with every master and every mistress, never to employ another to do that which can be done as well by their own servants. The more of their money that is retained in the hands of their own people, the better it is for them altogether. Besides, a man of a right mind must be pleased with the reflection, that there is a great mass of skill and ability under his own roof. He feels stronger and more independent on this account, all pecuniary advantage out of the question. It is impossible to conceive any thing more contemptible than a crowd of men and women living together in a house, and constantly looking out of it for people to bring them food and drink, and to fetch their garments to and fro. Such a crowd resemble a nest of unfledged birds, absolutely dependent for their very existence on the activity and success of the old ones. 92. Yet, on men go, from year to year, in this state of wretched dependence, even when they have all the means of living within themselves, which is certainly the happiest state of life that any one can enjoy. It may be asked, Where is the mill to be found? where is the wheat to be got? The answer is, Where is there not a mill? where is there not a market? They are every where, and the difficulty is to discover what can be the particular attractions contained in that long and luminous manuscript, a baker's half-yearly bill. 93. With regard to the mill, in speaking of families of any considerable number of persons, the mill has, with me, been more than once a subject of observation in print. I for a good while experienced the great inconvenience and expense of sending my wheat and other grain to be ground at a mill. This expense, in case of a considerable family, living at only a mile from a mill, is something; but the inconveniency and uncertainty are great. In my "Year's Residence in America," from Paragraphs 1031 and onwards, I give an account of a horse-mill which I had in my farm yard; and I showed, I think very clearly, that corn could be ground cheaper in this way than by wind or water, and that it would answer well to grind for sale in this way as well as for home use. Since my return to England I have seen a mill, erected in consequence of what the owner had read in my book. This mill belongs to a small farmer, who, when he cannot work on his land with his horses, or in the season when he has little for them to do, grinds wheat, sells the flour; and he takes in grists to grind, as other millers do. This mill goes with three small horses; but what I would recommend to gentlemen with considerable families, or to farmers, is a mill such as I myself have at present. 94. With this mill, turned by a man and a stout boy, I can grind six bushels of wheat in a day and dress the flour. The grinding of six bushels of wheat at ninepence a bushel comes to four and sixpence, which pays the man and the boy, supposing them (which is not and seldom can be the case) to be hired for the express purpose out of the street. With the same mill you grind meat for your pigs; and of this you will get eight or ten bushels ground in a day. You have no trouble about sending to the mill; you are sure to have your _own wheat_; for strange as it may seem, I used sometimes to find that I sent white Essex wheat to the mill, and that it brought me flour from very coarse red wheat. There is no accounting for this, except by supposing that wind and water power has something in it to change the very nature of the grain; as, when I came to grind by horses, such as the wheat went into the hopper, so the flour came out into the bin. 95. But mine now is only on the petty scale of providing for a dozen of persons and a small lot of pigs. For a farm-house, or a gentleman's house in the country, where there would be _room_ to have a walk for a horse, you might take the labour from the men, clap any little horse, pony, or even ass to the wheel; and he would grind you off eight or ten bushels of wheat in a day, and both he and you would have the thanks of your men into the bargain. 96. The cost of this mill is twenty pounds. The dresser is four more; the horse-path and wheel might, possibly, be four or five more; and, I am very certain, that to any farmer living at a mile from a mill, (and that is less than the average distance perhaps;) having twelve persons in family, having forty pigs to feed, and twenty hogs to fatten, the savings of such a mill would pay the whole expenses of it the very first year. Such a farmer cannot send less than _fifty times_ a year to the mill. Think of that, in the first place! The elements are not always propitious: sometimes the water fails, and sometimes the wind. Many a farmer's wife has been tempted to vent her spleen on both. At best, there must be horse and man, or boy, and, perhaps, cart, to go to the mill; and that, too, observe, in all weathers, and in the harvest as well as at other times of the year. The case is one of imperious necessity: neither floods nor droughts, nor storms nor calms, will allay the cravings of the kitchen, nor quiet the clamorous uproar of the stye. Go, somebody must, to some place or other, and back they must come with flour and with meal. One summer many persons came down the country more than fifty miles to a mill that I knew in Pennsylvania; and I have known farmers in England carry their grists more than fifteen miles to be ground. It is surprising, that, under these circumstances, hand-mills and horse-mills should not, long ago, have become of more general use; especially when one considers that the labour, in this case, would cost the farmer next to nothing. To grind would be the work of a wet day. There is no farmer who does not at least fifty days in every year exclaim, when he gets up in the morning, "What shall I set _them_ at to-day?" If he had a mill, he would make them pull off their shoes, sweep all out clean, winnow up some corn, if he had it not already done, and grind and dress, and have every thing in order. No scolding within doors about the grist; no squeaking in the stye; no boy sent off in the rain to the mill. 97. But there is one advantage which I have not yet mentioned; and which is the greatest of all; namely, that you would have the power of supplying your married labourers; your blacksmith's men sometimes; your wheelwright's men at other times; and, indeed, the greater part of the persons that you employed, with good flour, instead of their going to purchase their flour, after it had passed through the hands of a Corn Merchant, a Miller, a Flour Merchant, and a Huckster, every one of whom does and must have a profit out of the flour, arising from wheat grown upon, and sent away from, your very farm! I used to let all my people have flour at the same price that they would otherwise have been compelled to give for worse flour. _Every Farmer_ will understand me when I say, that he ought to pay for nothing in _money_, which he can pay for in any thing but money. His maxim is to keep the money that he takes as long as he can. Now here is a most effectual way of putting that maxim in practice to a very great extent. Farmers know well that it is the Saturday night which empties their pockets; and here is the means of cutting off a good half of the Saturday night. The men have better flour for the same money, and still the farmer keeps at home those profits which would go to the maintaining of the dealers in wheat and in flour. 98. The maker of my little mill is Mr. HILL, of Oxford-street. The expense is what I have stated it to be. I, with my small establishment, find the thing convenient and advantageous; what then must it be to a gentleman in the country who has room and horses, and a considerable family to provide for? The dresser is so contrived as to give you at once, meal, of four degrees of fineness; so that, for certain purposes, you may take the very finest; and, indeed, you may have your flour, and your bread of course, of what degree of fineness you please. But there is also a _steel mill_, much less _expensive_, requiring _less labour_, and yet quite sufficient for a _family_. Mills of this sort, very good, and at a reasonable price, are to be had of Mr. PARKES, in _Fenchurch-street_, London. These are very complete things of their kind. Mr. PARKES has, also, excellent Malt-Mills. 99. In concluding this part of my Treatise, I cannot help expressing my hope of being instrumental in inducing a part of the labourers, at any rate, to bake their own bread; and, above all things, to abandon the use of "Ireland's _lazy_ root." Nevertheless, so extensive is the erroneous opinion relative to this villanous root, that I really began to despair of checking its cultivation and use, till I saw the declaration which Mr. WAKEFIELD had the good sense and the spirit to make before the "AGRICULTURAL COMMITTEE." Be it observed, too, that Mr. WAKEFIELD had himself made a survey of the state of Ireland. What he saw there did not encourage him, doubtless, to be an advocate for the growing of this root of wretchedness. It is an undeniable fact, that, in the proportion that this root is in use, as a _substitute for bread_, the people are wretched; the reasons for which I have explained and enforced a hundred times over. Mr. WILLIAM HANNING told the Committee that the labourers in his part of Somersetshire were "almost wholly supplied with potatoes, _breakfast_ and _dinner_, brought them _in the fields_, and nothing but potatoes; and that they used, in better times, to get a certain portion of bacon and cheese, which, on account of their "poverty, they do not eat now." It is impossible that men can be _contented_ in such a state of things: it is unjust to desire them to be contented: it is a state of misery and degradation to which no part of any community can have any show of right to reduce another part: men so degraded have no protection; and it is a disgrace to form part of a community to which they belong. This degradation has been occasioned by a silent change in the value of the money of the country. This has purloined the wages of the labourer; it has reduced him by degrees to housel with the spider and the bat, and to feed with the pig. It has changed the habits, and, in a great measure, the character of the people. The sins of this system are enormous and undescribable; but, thank God! they seem to be approaching to their end! Money is resuming its value, labour is recovering its price: let us hope that the wretched potatoe is disappearing, and that we shall, once more, see the knife in the labourer's hand and the loaf upon his board. [This was written in 1821. _Now_ (1823) we have had the experience of 1822, when, for the first time, the world saw a considerable part of a people, plunged into all the horrors of _famine_, at a moment when the government of that nation declared _food to be abundant_! Yes, the year 1822 saw Ireland in this state; saw the people of whole parishes receiving the _extreme unction_ preparatory to yielding up their breath for want of food; and this while large exports of meat and flour were taking place in that country! But horrible as this was, disgraceful as it was to the name of Ireland, it was attended with this good effect: it brought out, from many members of Parliament (in their places,) and from the public in general, the acknowledgment, that the _misery_ and _degradation_ of the Irish were chiefly owing to the _use of the potatoe as the almost sole food of the people_.] 100. In my next number I shall treat of the _keeping of cows_. I have said that I will teach the cottager how to keep a cow all the year round upon the produce of a quarter of an acre, or, in other words, _forty rods_, of land; and, in my next, I will make good my promise. No. IV MAKING BREAD--(CONTINUED.) 101. In the last number, at Paragraph 86, I observed that I hoped it was unnecessary for me to give any directions as to the mere _act_ of making bread. But several correspondents inform me that, without these directions, a conviction of the utility of baking bread at home is of _no use to them_. Therefore, I shall here give those directions, receiving my instructions here from one, who, I thank God, does know how to perform this act. 102. Suppose the quantity be a bushel of flour. Put this flour into a _trough_ that people have for the purpose, or it may be in a clean smooth tub of any shape, if not too deep, and if sufficiently large. Make a pretty deep hole in the middle of this heap of flour. Take (for a bushel) a pint of good fresh yeast, mix it and stir it well up in a pint of _soft_ water milk-warm. Pour this into the hole in the heap of flour. Then take a spoon and work it round the outside of this body of moisture so as to bring into that body, by degrees, flour enough to make it form a _thin batter_, which you must stir about well for a minute or two. Then take a handful of flour and scatter it thinly over the head of this batter, so as to _hide_ it. Then cover the whole over with a cloth to keep it _warm_; and this covering, as well as the situation of the trough, as to distance from the fire, must depend on the nature of the place and state of the weather as to heat and cold. When you perceive that the batter has risen enough to make _cracks_ in the flour that you covered it over with, you begin to form the whole mass into _dough_, thus: you begin round the hole containing the batter, working the flour into the batter, and pouring in, as it is wanted to make the flour mix with the batter, soft water milk-warm, or milk, as hereafter to be mentioned. Before you begin this, you scatter the _salt_ over the heap at the rate of _half a pound_ to a bushel of flour. When you have got the whole _sufficiently moist_, you _knead it well_. This is a grand part of the business; for, unless the dough be _well worked_, there will be _little round lumps of flour in the loaves_; and, besides, the original batter, which is to give fermentation to the whole, will not be duly mixed. The dough must, therefore, be well worked. The _fists_ must go heartily into it. It must be rolled over; pressed out; folded up and pressed out again, until it be completely mixed, and formed into a _stiff_ and _tough dough_. This is _labour_, mind. I have never quite liked baker's bread since I saw a great heavy fellow, in a bakehouse in France, kneading bread with his _naked feet_! His feet looked very _white_, to be sure: whether they were of that colour _before he got into the trough_ I could not tell. God forbid, that I should suspect that this is ever done _in England_! It is _labour_; but, what is _exercise_ other than labour? Let a young woman bake a bushel once a week, and she will do very well without phials and gallipots. 103. Thus, then, the dough is made. And, when made, it is to be formed into a lump in the middle of the trough, and, with a little dry flour thinly scattered over it, covered over again to be kept warm and to ferment; and in this state, if all be done rightly, it will not have to remain more than about 15 or 20 minutes. 104. In the mean while _the oven is to be heated_; and this is much more than half the art of the operation. When an oven is properly heated, can be known only by _actual observation_. Women who understand the matter, know when the heat is right the moment they put their faces within a yard of the oven-mouth; and once or twice observing is enough for any person of common capacity. But this much may be said in the way of _rule_: that the fuel (I am supposing a brick oven) should be _dry_ (not _rotten_) wood, and not mere _brush-wood_, but rather _fagot-sticks_. If larger wood, it ought to be split up into sticks not more than two, or two and a half inches through. Bush-wood that is _strong_, not green and not too old, if it be hard in its nature and has some _sticks_ in it, may do. The _woody_ parts of furze, or ling, will heat an oven very well. But the thing is, to have a _lively_ and yet _somewhat strong_ fire; so that the oven may be heated in about 15 minutes, and retain its heat sufficiently long. 105. The oven should be hot by the time that the dough, as mentioned in Paragraph 103, has remained in the lump about 20 minutes. When both are ready, take out the fire, and wipe the oven out clean, and, at nearly about the same moment, take the dough out upon the lid of the baking trough, or some proper place, cut it up into pieces, and make it up into loaves, kneading it again into these separate parcels; and, as you go on, shaking a little flour over your board, to prevent the dough from adhering to it. The loaves should be put into the oven as _quickly_ as possible after they are formed; when in, the oven-lid, or door, should be fastened up _very closely_; and, if all be properly managed, loaves of about the size of quartern loaves will be sufficiently baked in about _two hours_. But they usually take down the _lid_, and _look_ at the bread, in order to see how it is going on. 106. And what is there worthy of the name of _plague_, or _trouble_, in all this? Here is no dirt, no filth, no rubbish, no _litter_, no _slop_. And, pray, what can be pleasanter to _behold_? Talk, indeed, of your pantomimes and gaudy shows; your processions and installations and coronations! Give me, for a beautiful sight, a neat and smart woman, heating her oven and setting in her bread! And, if the bustle does make the sign of labour glisten on her brow, where is the man that would not kiss that off, rather than lick the plaster from the cheek of a duchess. 107. And what is the _result_? Why, good, wholesome food, sufficient for a considerable family for a week, prepared in three or four hours. To get this quantity of food, fit to be _eaten_, in the shape of potatoes, _how many fires_! what a washing, what a boiling, what a peeling, what a slopping, and what a messing! The cottage everlastingly in a litter; the woman's hands everlastingly wet and dirty; the children grimed up to the eyes with dust fixed on by potato-starch; and ragged as colts, the poor mother's time all being devoted to the everlasting boilings of the pot! Can any man, who knows any thing of the labourer's life, deny this? And will, then, any body, except the old shuffle-breeches band of the Quarterly Review, who have all their lives been moving from garret to garret, who have seldom seen the sun, and never the dew except in print; will any body except these men say, that the people ought to be taught to use potatoes as a _substitute for bread_? BREWING BEER. 108. This matter has been fully treated of in the two last numbers. But several correspondents wishing to fall upon some means of rendering the practice beneficial to those who are _unable to purchase_ brewing utensils, have recommended the _lending_ of them, or letting out, round a neighbourhood. Another correspondent has, therefore, pointed out to me _an Act of Parliament_ which touches upon this subject; and, indeed, what of Excise Laws and Custom Laws and Combination Laws and Libel Laws, a human being in this country scarcely knows what he dares do or what he dares say. What father, for instance, would have imagined, that, having brewing utensils, which two men carry from house to house as easily as they can a basket, _he dared not lend them to his son, living in the next street, or at the next door_? Yet such really is the law; for, according to the Act 5th of the 22 and 23 of that honest and sincere gentleman Charles II., there is a penalty of 50_l._ for lending or letting brewing utensils. However, it has this limit; that the penalty is confined to _Cities_, _Corporate Towns_, and _Market Towns_, WHERE THERE IS A PUBLIC BREWHOUSE. So that, in the first place, you may let, or lend, in _any_ place where there is _no public brewhouse_; and in all towns not _corporate or market_, and in all villages, hamlets, and scattered places. 109. Another thing is, can a man who has brewed beer at his own house in the country, bring that beer into town to his own house, and for the use of his family there? This has been asked of me. I cannot give a positive answer without reading about _seven large volumes in quarto of taxing laws_. The best way would be to _try it_; and, if any penalty, pay it by _subscription_, if that would not come under the law of _conspiracy_! However, I _think_, there can be no danger here. So monstrous a thing as this can, surely, not exist. If there be such a law, it is daily violated; for nothing is more common than for country gentlemen, who have a dislike to die by poison, bringing their home-brewed beer to London. 110. Another correspondent recommends _parishes to make their own malt_. But, surely, the landlords mean to get rid of the _malt and salt tax_! Many dairies, I dare say, pay 50_l._ a year each in salt tax. How, then, are they to contend against Irish butter and Dutch butter and cheese? And as to the malt tax, it is a dreadful drain from the land. I have heard of labourers, living "in _unkent places_," making their _own malt_, even now! Nothing is so easy as to make your own malt, if you were permitted. You soak the barley about three days (according to the state of the weather.) and then you put it upon stones or bricks _and keep it turned_, till the root _shoots out_; and then to know when to _stop_, and to put it to dry, take up a corn (which you will find nearly transparent) and look through the skin of it. You will see the _spear_, that is to say, the shoot that would come out of the ground, pushing on towards the _point_ of the barley-corn. It starts from the bottom, where the root comes out; and it goes on towards the other end; and would, if _kept moist_, come out at that other end when the root was about an inch long. So that, when you have got the _root to start_, by soaking and turning in heap, the spear is _on its way_. If you look in through the skin, you will see it; and now observe; when the _point of the spear_ has got along as far as the _middle of the barley-corn_, you should take your barley and _dry it_. How easy would every family, and especially every farmer, do this, if it were not for the punishment attached to it! The persons in the "unkent places" before mentioned, dry the malt in their _oven_! But let us hope that the labourer will soon be able to get malt without exposing himself to punishment as a _violater of the law_. KEEPING COWS. 111. As to the _use_ of _milk_ and of that which proceeds from milk, in a family, very little need be said. At a certain age bread and milk are _all_ that a child wants. At a later age they furnish one meal a day for children. Milk is, at all seasons, good to _drink_. In the making of puddings, and in the making of _bread_ too, how useful is it! Let any one who has eaten none but baker's bread for a good while, taste bread home-baked, mixed with milk instead of with water; and he will find what the difference is. There is this only to be observed, that in _hot weather_, bread mixed with milk will not _keep so long_ as that mixed with water. It will of course turn _sour_ sooner. 112. Whether the milk of a cow be to be consumed by a cottage family in the shape of milk, or whether it be to be made to yield butter, skim-milk, and buttermilk, must depend on circumstances. A woman that has no child, or only one, would, perhaps, find it best to make _some butter_ at any rate. Besides, skim-milk and bread (the milk being boiled) is quite strong food enough for any children's breakfast, even when they begin to go to work; a fact which I state upon the most ample and satisfactory experience, very seldom having ever had any other sort of breakfast myself till I was more than ten years old, and I was in the fields at work full four years before that. I will here mention that it gave me singular pleasure to see a boy, just turned of _six_, helping his father to _reap_, in Sussex, this last summer. He did little, to be sure; but it was _something_. His father set him into the ridge at a great distance before him; and when he came up to the place, he found a _sheaf_ cut; and, those who know what it is to reap, know how pleasant it is to find now and then a sheaf cut ready to their hand. It was no small thing to see a boy fit to be trusted with so dangerous a thing as a reap-hook in his hands, at an age when "young masters" have nursery-maids to cut their victuals for them, and to see that they do not fall out of the window, tumble down stairs, or run under carriage-wheels or horses' bellies. Was not this father discharging his duty by this boy much better than he would have been by sending him to a place called a _school_? The boy is in a school here; and an excellent school too: the school of useful labour. I must hear a great deal more than I ever have heard, to convince me, that teaching children to _read_ tends so much to their happiness, their independence of spirit, their manliness of character, as teaching them to _reap_. The creature that is in _want_ must be a _slave_; and to be habituated _to labour cheerfully_ is the only means of preventing nineteen-twentieths of mankind from being in want. I have digressed here; but observations of this sort can, in my opinion, never be too often repeated; especially at a time when all sorts of mad projects are on foot, for what is falsely called _educating_ the people, and when some would do this by a _tax_ that would compel the single man to give part of his earnings to teach the married man's children to read and write. 113. Before I quit the _uses_ to which milk may be put, let me mention, that, as mere _drink_, it is, unless perhaps in case of heavy labour, better, in my opinion, than any beer, however good. I have drinked little else for the last five years, at any time of the day. Skim-milk I mean. If you have not milk enough to wet up your bread with (for a bushel of flour requires about 16 to 18 pints,) you make up the quantity with water, of course; or, which is a very good way, with water that has been put, boiling hot, upon _bran_, and then drained off. This takes the goodness out of the bran to be sure; but _really good bread_ is a thing of so much importance, that it always ought to be the very first object in domestic economy. 114. The cases vary so much, that it is impossible to lay down rules for the application of the produce of a cow, which rules shall fit all cases. I content myself, therefore, with what has already been said on this subject; and shall only make an observation on the _act of milking_, before I come to the chief matter; namely, the _getting of the food for the cow_. A cow should be milked _clean_. Not a drop, if it can be avoided, should be left in the udder. It has been proved that the half pint that comes out _last_ has _twelve times_, I think it is, as much butter in it, as the half pint that comes out _first_. I tried the milk of ten Alderney cows, and, as nearly as I, without being very nice about the matter, could ascertain, I found the difference to be about what I have stated. The udder would seem to be a sort of milk-pan in which the cream is uppermost, and, of course, comes out last, seeing that the outlet is at the bottom. But, besides this, if you do not milk clean, the cow will give less and less milk, and will become dry much sooner than she ought. The _cause_ of this I do not know, but experience has long established the fact. 115. In providing food for a cow we must look, first, at the _sort of cow_; seeing that a cow of one sort will certainly require more than twice as much food as a cow of another sort. For a cottage, a cow of the smallest sort common in England is, on every account, the best; and such a cow will not require above 70 or 80 pounds of good moist food in the twenty-four hours. 116. Now, how to raise this food on 40 rods of ground is what we want to know. It frequently happens that a labourer has _more_ than 40 rods of ground. It more frequently happens, that he has some _common_, some _lane_, some little out-let or other, for a part of the year, at least. In such cases he may make a different disposition of his ground; or may do with less than the 40 rods. I am here, for simplicity's sake, to suppose, that he have 40 rods of clear, unshaded land, besides what his house and sheds stand upon; and that he have nothing further in the way of means to keep his cow. 117. I suppose the 40 rods to be _clean_ and _unshaded_; for I am to suppose, that when a man thinks of 5 quarts _of milk a day_, on an average, all the year round, he will not suffer his ground to be encumbered by apple-trees that give him only the means of treating his children to fits of the belly-ache, or with currant and gooseberry bushes, which, though their fruit do very well to _amuse_, really give nothing worthy of the name of _food_, except to the blackbirds and thrushes. The ground is to be _clear_ of trees; and, in the spring, we will suppose it to be _clean_. Then, dig it up _deeply_, or, which is better, _trench_ it, keeping, however, the top _spit_ of the soil _at the top_. Lay it in _ridges_ in April or May about two feet apart, and made high and sharp. When the weeds appear about three inches high, turn the ridges into the furrows (_never moving the ground but in dry weather_,) and bury all the weeds. Do this as often as the weeds get three inches high; and by the fall, you will have really clean ground, and not poor ground. 118. There is the ground then, ready. About the 26th of August, but _not earlier_, prepare a rod of your ground; and put some _manure_ in it (for _some_ you must have,) and sow one half of it with Early York Cabbage Seed, and the other half with Sugar-loaf Cabbage Seed, both of the _true_ sort, in little drills at 8 inches apart, and the seeds thin in the drill. If the plants come up at two inches apart (and they should be thinned if thicker,) you will have a plenty. As soon as fairly out of ground, hoe the ground nicely, and pretty deeply, and again in a few days. When the plants have six leaves, which will be very soon, dig up, make fine, and manure another rod or two, and prick out the plants, 4000 of each in rows at eight inches apart and three inches in the row. Hoe the ground between them often, and they will grow fast and be _straight_ and strong. I suppose that these beds for plants take 4 rods of your ground. Early in November, or, as the weather may serve, a little earlier or later, lay some manure (of which I shall say more hereafter) between the ridges, in the other 36 rods, and turn the ridges over on this manure, and then transplant your plants on the ridges at 15 inches apart. Here they will stand the winter; and you must see that the slugs do not eat them. If any plants fail, you have plenty in the bed where you prick them out; for your 36 rods will not require more than 4000 plants. If the winter be very hard, and bad for plants, you cannot _cover_ 36 rods; but you may the _bed_ where the rest of your plants are. A little litter, or straw, or dead grass, or fern, laid along between the rows and the plants, not to cover the leaves, will preserve them completely. When people complain of _all_ their plants being "_cut off_," they have, in fact nothing to _complain_ of but their own extreme carelessness. If I had a gardener who complained of _all_ his plants being cut off, I should cut him off pretty quickly. If those in the 36 rods fail, or fail in part, fill up their places, later in the winter, by plants from the bed. 119. If you find the ground dry at the top during the winter, hoe it, and particularly near the plants, and rout out all slugs and insects. And when March comes, and the ground _is dry_, hoe deep and well, and earth the plants up close to the lower leaves. As soon as the plants begin to _grow_, dig the ground with a spade clean and well, and let the spade go as near to the plants as you can without actually _displacing the plants_. Give them another digging in a month; and, if weeds come in the mean-while, _hoe_, and let not one live a week. Oh! "what a deal of _work_!" Well! but it is for _yourself_, and, besides, it is not all to be done in a day; and we shall by-and-by see what it is altogether. 120. By the first of June; I speak of the South of England, and there is also some difference in seasons and soils; but, generally speaking, by the first of June you will have _turned-in cabbages_, and soon you will have the Early Yorks _solid_. And by the first of June you may get your cow, one that is about to calve, or that has just calved, and at this time such a cow as you will want will not, thank God, cost above five pounds. 121. I shall speak of the place to keep her in, and of the manure and litter, by-and-by. At present I confine myself to her mere food. The 36 rods, if the cabbages all stood till they got _solid_, would give her food for 200 days, at 80 pounds weight per day, which is more than she would eat. But you must use some, at first, that are not solid; and, then, some of them will split before you can use them. But you will have pigs to help off with them, and to gnaw the heads of the stumps. Some of the sugar-loaves may have been planted out in the spring; and thus these 36 rods will get you along to some time in September. 122. Now mind, in March, and again in April, sow more _Early Yorks_, and get them to be fine stout plants, as you did those in the fall. Dig up the ground and manure it, and, as fast as you cut cabbages, plant cabbages; and in the same manner and with the same cultivation as before. Your last planting will be about the middle of August, with _stout plants_, and these will serve you into the month of November. 123. Now we have to provide from _December to May inclusive_; and that, too, out of this same piece of ground. In November there must be, arrived at perfection, 3000 turnip plants. These, _without the greens_, must weigh, on an average, 5 pounds, and this, at 80 pounds a day, will keep the cow 187 days; and there are but 182 days in these six months. The greens will have helped put the latest cabbages to carry you through November, and perhaps into December. But for these six months, you must _depend_ on nothing but the Swedish turnips. 124. And now, how are these to be had _upon the same ground that bears_ the cabbages? That we are now going to see. When you plant out your cabbages at the out-set, put first a row of Early Yorks, then a row of Sugar-loaves, and so on throughout the piece. Of course, as you are to use the Early Yorks first, you will cut every other row; and the Early Yorks that you are to plant in summer will go into the intervals. By-and-by the Sugar-loaves are cut away, and in their place will come Swedish turnips, you digging and manuring the ground as in the case of the cabbages: and, at last, you will find about 16 rods where you will have found it too late, and _unnecessary_ besides, to plant any second crop of cabbages. Here the Swedish turnips will stand in rows at two feet apart, (and always a foot apart in the row,) and thus you will have three thousand turnips; and if these do not weigh five pounds each on an average, the fault must be in the _seed_ or in the management. 125. The Swedish turnips are raised in this manner. You will bear in mind the _four rods_ of ground in which you have sowed and pricked out your cabbage plants. The plants that will be left there will, in April, serve you for _greens_, if you ever eat any, though bread and bacon are very good without greens, and rather better than with. At any rate, the pig, which has strong powers of digestion, will consume this herbage. In a part of these four rods you will, in March and April, as before directed, have sown and raised your Early Yorks for the summer planting. Now, in the _last week of May_, prepare a quarter of a rod of this ground, and sow it, precisely as directed for the Cabbage-seed, with Swedish turnip-seed; and sow a quarter of a rod _every three days_, till you have sowed _two rods_. If the _fly appear_, cover the rows over in the _day-time_ with cabbage leaves, and take the leaves off at night; hoe well between the plants; and when they are safe from the fly, _thin_ them to four inches apart in the row. The two rods will give you nearly _five thousand plants_, which is 2000 more than you will want. From this bed you draw your plants to transplant in the ground where the cabbages have stood, as before directed. You should transplant none much _before_ the middle of July, and not much _later_ than the middle of August. In the two rods, whence you take your turnip plants, you may leave plants to come to perfection, at two feet distances each way; and this will give you _over and above_, 840 pounds weight of turnips. For the other two rods will be ground enough for you to sow your cabbage plants in at the end of August, as directed for last year. 126. I should now proceed to speak of the manner of harvesting, preserving, and using the crops; of the manner of feeding the cow; of the shed for her; of the managing of the manure, and several other less important things; but these, for want of room here, must be reserved for the beginning of my next Number. After, therefore, observing that the Turnip plants must be transplanted in the same way that Cabbage plants are; and that both ought to be transplanted in _dry_ weather and in ground just _fresh digged_, I shall close this Number with the notice of two points which I am most anxious to impress upon the mind of every reader. 127. The first is, whether these crops give an _ill taste_ to milk and butter. It is very certain, that the taste and smell of certain sorts of cattle-food will do this; for, in some parts of America, where the wild _garlick_, of which the cows are very fond, and which, like other bulbous-rooted plants, springs before the grass, not only the milk and butter have a strong taste of garlick, but even the _veal_, when the calves suck milk from such sources. None can be more common expressions, than, in Philadelphia market, are those of _Garlicky Butter_ and _Garlicky Veal_, I have distinctly tasted the _Whiskey_ in milk of cows fed on distiller's wash. It is also certain, that, if the cow eat _putrid_ leaves of cabbages and turnips, the butter will be offensive. And the white-turnip, which is at best but a poor thing, and often half putrid, makes miserable butter. The large _cattle-cabbage_, which, when loaved hard, has a strong and even an offensive smell, will give a bad taste and smell to milk and butter, whether there be putrid leaves or not. If you boil one of these rank cabbages, the water is extremely offensive to the smell. But I state upon positive and recent experience, that Early York and Sugar-loaf Cabbages will yield as sweet milk and butter _as any food that can be given to a cow_. During this last summer, I have, with the exception about to be noticed, kept, from the 1st of May to the 22d of October, _five cows_ upon the grass _of two acres and a quarter of ground, the grass_ being generally _cut up for them_ and given to them in the stall. I had in the spring 5000 cabbage plants, intended for my pigs, eleven in number. But the pigs could not eat _half_ their allowance, though they were not very small when they began upon it. We were compelled to resort to the aid of the cows; and, in order to see _the effect on the milk and butter_, we did not _mix_ the food; but gave the cows two _distinct spells_ at the cabbages, each spell about 10 _days in duration_. The cabbages were cut off the stump with little or no care about _dead leaves_. And sweeter, finer butter, butter of a finer colour, than these cabbages made, never was made in this world. I never had better from cows feeding in the sweetest pasture. Now, as to _Swedish turnips_, they do give a little taste, especially if boiling of the milk pans be neglected, and if the greatest care be not taken about _all_ the dairy tackle. Yet we have, for months together, had the butter so fine from Swedish turnips, that nobody could well distinguish it from grass-butter. But to secure this, there must be no _sluttishness_. Churn, pans, pail, shelves, wall, floor, and all about the dairy, must be clean; and, above all things, the pans must be _boiled_. However, after all, it is not here a case of delicacy of smell so refined as to faint at any thing that meets it except the stink of perfumes. If the butter do taste a little of the Swedish turnip, it will do very well where there is plenty of that sweet sauce which early rising and bodily labour are ever sure to bring. 128. The _other point_ (about which I am still more anxious) is the _seed_; for if the seed be not _sound_, and especially if it be not _true to its kind_, all your labour _is in vain_. It is best, if you can do it, to get your seed from some friend, or some one that you know and can trust. If you save seed, observe all the precautions mentioned in my book on _Gardening_. This very year I have some Swedish turnips, _so called_, about 7000 in number, and should, if my seed had been _true_, have had about _twenty tons_ weight; instead of which I have about _three_! Indeed, they are not _Swedish turnips_, but a sort of mixture between that plant and _rape_. I am sure the seedsman did not wilfully deceive me. He was deceived himself. The truth is, that seedsmen are compelled to _buy_ their seeds of this plant. _Farmers_ save it; and they but too often pay very little attention to the manner of doing it. The best way is to get a dozen of fine turnip plants, perfect in all respects, and plant them in a situation where the smell of the blossoms of nothing of the cabbage or rape or turnip or even _charlock_ kind, can reach them. The seed will keep perfectly good for _four years_. No. V KEEPING COWS--(_continued._) 129. I have now, in the conclusion of this article, to speak of the manner of _harvesting_ and _preserving_ the _Swedes_; of the place _to keep the cow in_; of the _manure_ for the land; and of the _quantity of labour_ that the cultivation of the land and the harvesting of the crop will require. 130. _Harvesting and preserving the Swedes._ When they are ready to take up, the tops must be cut off, if not cut off before, and also the _roots_; but neither tops nor roots should be cut off _very close_. You will have room for ten bushels of the _bulbs_ in the house, or shed. Put the rest into ten-bushel heaps. Make the heap _upon_ the ground in a _round form_, and let it rise up to a point. Lay over it a little litter, straw, or dead grass, about three inches thick, and then earth upon that about six inches thick. Then cut a thin round _green turf_, about eighteen inches over, and put it upon the crown of the heap to prevent the earth from being washed off. Thus these heaps will remain till wanted for use. When given to the cow, it will be best to _wash_ the Swedes and cut each into two or three pieces with a spade or some other tool. You can take in ten bushels at a time. If you find them _sprouting_ in the spring, open the remaining heaps, and expose them to the sun and wind; and cover them again slightly with straw or litter of some sort.[6] 131. _As to the place to keep the cow in_, much will depend upon _situation_ and circumstances. I am always supposing that the cottage is a real _cottage_, and not a house in a town or village street; though, wherever there is the quarter of an acre of ground, the cow _may_ be kept. Let me, however, suppose that which will generally happen; namely, that the cottage stands by the side of a road, or lane, and amongst fields and woods, if not on the side of a common. To pretend to tell a country labourer how to build a shed for a cow, how to stick it up against the end of his house, or to make it an independent erection; or to dwell on the materials, where poles, rods, wattles, rushes, furze, heath, and cooper-chips, are all to be gotten by him for nothing or next to nothing, would be useless; because a man who, thus situated, can be at any loss for a shed for his cow, is not only unfit to keep a cow, but unfit to keep a cat. The warmer the shed is the better it is. The floor should _slope_, but not too much. There are _stones_, of some sort or other, every-where, and about six wheel-barrow-fulls will _pave_ the shed, a thing to be by no means neglected. A broad trough, or box, fixed up at the head of the cow, is the thing to give her food in; and she should be fed three times a day, at least; always at _day-light_ and at _sun-set_. It is not _absolutely necessary_ that a cow ever quit her shed, except just at calving time, or when taken to the bull. In the former case the time is, nine times out of ten, known to within forty-eight hours. Any enclosed field or place will do for her during a day or two; and for such purpose, if there be not room at home, no man will refuse place for her in a fallow field. It will, however, be good, where there is no _common_ to turn her out upon, to have her led by a string, two or three times a week, which may be done by a child only five years old, to graze, or pick, along the sides of roads and lanes. Where there is a _common_, she will, of course, be turned out in the day time, except in very wet or severe weather; and in a case like this, a smaller quantity of ground will suffice for the keeping of her. According to the present practice, a miserable "_tallet_" of bad hay is, in such cases, the winter provision for the cow. It can scarcely be called food; and the consequence is, the cow is both _dry_ and _lousy_ nearly half the year; instead of being dry only about fifteen days before calving, and being sleek and lusty at the end of the winter, to which a _warm lodging_ greatly contributes. For, observe, if you keep a cow, any time between September and June, out in a field or yard, to endure the chances of the weather, she will not, though she have food precisely the same in quantity and quality, yield above _two-thirds_ as much as if she were lodged in house; and in _wet_ weather she will not yield _half_ so much. It is not so much the _cold_ as the _wet_ that is injurious to all our stock in England. 132. _The Manure._ At the _beginning_ this must be provided by collections made on the road; by the results of the residence in a cottage. Let any man clean out _every place_ about his dwelling; rake and scrape and sweep all into a heap; and he will find that he has a _great deal_. Earth of almost any sort that has long lain on the surface, and has been trodden on, is a species of manure. Every act that tends to neatness round a dwelling, tends to the creating of a mass of manure. And I have very seldom seen a cottage, with a plat of ground of a quarter of an acre belonging to it, round about which I could not have collected a very large heap of manure. Every thing of animal or vegetable substance that comes into a house, must _go out of it again_, in one shape or another. The very emptying of vessels of various kinds, on a heap of common earth, makes it a heap of the best of manure. Thus goes on the work of _reproduction_; and thus is verified the words of the Scripture, "_Flesh is grass_, and there is _nothing new under the sun_." Thus far as to the _outset_. When you have _got the cow_, there is no more care about manure; for, and especially if you have a _pig_ also, you must have enough annually for _an acre_ of ground. And let it be observed, that, after a time, it will be unnecessary, and would be injurious, to manure _for every crop_; for that would produce more stalk and green than substantial part; as it is well known, that wheat plants, standing in ground too full of manure, will yield very thick and long _straws_, but grains of little or no substance. You ought to depend more on the spade and the hoe than on the dung-heap. Nevertheless, the greatest care should be taken to preserve the manure; because you will want _straw_, unless you be by the side of a common which gives you rushes, grassy furze, or fern; and to get straw you must give a part of your dung from the cow-stall and pig-sty. The best way to preserve manure, is to have a pit of sufficient dimensions close behind the cow-shed and pig-sty, for the run from these to go into, and from which all runs of _rain water_ should be kept. Into this pit would go the emptying of the shed and of the sty, and the produce of all sweepings and cleanings round the house; and thus a large mass of manure would soon grow together. Much too large a quantity for a quarter of an acre of ground. One good load of wheat or rye straw is all that you would want for the winter, and half of one for the summer; and you would have more than enough dung to exchange against this straw. 133. Now, as to _the quantity of labour_ that the cultivation of the land will demand in _a year_. We will suppose the whole to have _five complete diggings_, and say nothing about the little matters of sowing and planting and hoeing and harvesting, all which are a mere trifle. We are supposing the owner to be _an able labouring man_; and such a man will dig 12 rods of ground in a day. Here are 200 rods to be digged, and here are little less than 17 days of work at 12 hours in the day; or 200 _hours'_ work, to be done in the course of the long days of spring and summer, while it is light long before _six_ in the morning, and long after six at night. What _is it_, then? Is it not better than time spent in the ale-house, or in creeping about after a miserable hare? Frequently, and most frequently, there will be a _boy_, if not two, big enough to help. And (I only give this as a _hint_) I saw, on the 7th of November last (1822,) _a very pretty woman_, in the village of _Hannington, in Wiltshire, digging_ a piece of ground and planting it with Early Cabbages, which she did as handily and as neatly as any gardener that ever I saw. The ground was _wet_, and therefore, _to avoid treading the digged ground in that state_, she had her line extended, and put in the rows as she advanced in her digging, standing _in the trench_ while she performed the act of planting, which she did with great nimbleness and precision. Nothing could be more skilfully or beautifully done. Her clothes were neat, clean, and tight about her. She had turned her handkerchief down from her neck, which, with the glow that the work had brought into her cheeks, formed an object which I do not say would have made me _actually stop my chaise_, had it not been for the occupation in which she was engaged; but, all taken together, the temptation was too strong to be resisted. But there is the _Sunday_; and I know of no law, human or divine, that forbids a labouring man to dig or plant his garden on Sunday, if the good of his family demand it; and if he cannot, without injury to that family, find other time to do it in. Shepherds, carters, pigfeeders, drovers, coachmen, cooks, footmen, printers, and numerous others, work on the Sundays. Theirs are deemed by the law _works of necessity_. Harvesting and haymaking are allowed to be carried on on the Sunday, in certain cases; when they are always carried on by _provident farmers_. And I should be glad to know the case which is more a _case of necessity_ than that now under our view. In fact, the labouring people _do work on the Sunday_ morning in particular, all over the country, at something or other, or they are engaged in pursuits a good deal less religious than that of digging and planting. So that, as to _the 200 hours_, they are easily found, without the loss of any of the time required for constant daily labour. 134. And what a _produce_ is that of a cow! I suppose only an average of 5 _quarts of milk a day_. If made into butter, it will be _equal every week to two days of the man's wages_, besides the value of the skim milk: and this can hardly be of less value than another day's wages. What a thing, then, is this cow, if she earn half as much as the man! I am greatly under-rating her produce; but I wish to put all the advantages at the lowest. To be sure, there is work for the wife, or daughter, to milk and make butter. But the former is done at the two ends of the day, and the latter only about once in the week. And, whatever these may subtract from the _labours of the field_, which all country women ought to be engaged in whenever they conveniently can; whatever the cares created by the cow may subtract from these, is amply compensated for by the _education_ that these cares will give to the children. They will _all_ learn to milk,[7] and the girls to make butter. And which is a thing of the very first importance, they will all learn, from their infancy, to _set a just value upon dumb animals_, and will grow up in the _habit_ of treating them with gentleness and feeding them with care. To those who have not been brought up in the midst of rural affairs, it is hardly possible to give an adequate idea of the importance of this part of _education_. I should be very loth to intrust the care of my horses, cattle, sheep, or pigs, to any one whose father never had cow or pig of his _own_. It is a general complaint, that servants, and especially farm-servants, are not _so good as they used to be_. How should they? They were formerly the sons and daughters of _small farmers_; they are now the progeny of miserable property-less labourers. They have never seen an animal in which they had any interest. They are careless by habit. This monstrous evil has arisen from causes which I have a thousand times described; and which causes must now be speedily removed; or, they will produce a dissolution of society, and give us a _beginning afresh_. 135. The circumstances vary so much, that it is impossible to lay down precise rules suited to all cases. The cottage may be on the side of a forest or common; it may be on the side of a lane or of a great road, distant from town or village; it may be on the skirts of one of these latter: and then, again, the family may be few or great in number, the children small or big, according to all which circumstances, the extent and application of the cow-food, and also the application of the produce, will naturally be regulated. Under some circumstances, half the above crop may be enough; especially where good commons are at hand. Sometimes it may be the best way to sell the calf as soon as calved; at others, to fat it; and, at others, if you cannot sell it, which sometimes happens, to knock it on the head as soon as calved; for, where there is a family of small children, the price of a calf of two months old cannot be equal to the half of the value of the two months' milk. It is pure weakness to call it "_a pity_." It is a much greater pity to see hungry children crying for the milk that a calf is sucking to no useful purpose; and as to the cow and the calf, the one must lose her young, and the other its life, after all; and the respite only makes an addition to the sufferings of both. 136. As to the pretended _unwholesomeness_ of milk in certain cases; as to its not being adapted to _some constitutions_, I do not believe one word of the matter. When we talk of the _fruits_, indeed, which were formerly the chief food of a great part of mankind, we should recollect, that those fruits grew in countries that had a _sun to ripen_ the fruits, and to put nutritious matter into them. But as to _milk_, England yields to no country upon the face of the earth. Neat cattle will touch nothing that is not wholesome in its nature; nothing that is not wholly innoxious. Out of a pail that has ever had grease in it, they will not drink a drop, though they be raging with thirst. Their very breath is fragrance. And how, then, is it possible, that unwholesomeness should distil from the udder of a cow? The milk varies, indeed, in its quality and taste according to the variations in the nature of the food; but no food will a cow touch that is any way hostile to health. Feed young puppies upon _milk from the cow_, and they will never die with that ravaging disease called "_the distemper_." In short, to suppose that milk contains any thing essentially unwholesome is monstrous. When, indeed, the appetite becomes vitiated: when the organs have been long accustomed to food of a more stimulating nature; when it has been resolved to eat ragouts at dinner, and drink wine, and to swallow "a devil," and a glass of strong grog at night; then milk for breakfast may be "_heavy_" and disgusting, and the feeder may stand in need of tea or laudanum, which differ only as to degrees of strength. But, and I speak from the most ample experience, milk is not "_heavy_," and much less is it _unwholesome_, when he who uses it rises early, never swallows strong drink, and never _stuffs_ himself with flesh of any kind. Many and many a day I scarcely taste of meat, and then chiefly at _breakfast_, and that, too, at an early hour. Milk is the natural food of _young people_; if it be too rich, _skim_ it again and again till it be not too rich. This is an evil easily cured. If you have now to _begin_ with a family of children, they may not like it at first. But _persevere_; and the parent who does not do this, having the means in his hands, shamefully neglects his duty. A son who prefers a "devil" and a glass of grog to a hunch of bread and a bowl of cold milk, I regard as a pest; and for this pest the father has to thank himself. 137. Before I dismiss this article, let me offer an observation or two to those persons who live in the vicinity of towns, or in towns, and who, though they have _large gardens_, have "_no land to keep a cow_," a circumstance which they "_exceedingly regret_." I have, I dare say, witnessed this case at least a thousand times. Now, how much garden ground does it require to supply even a large family with _garden vegetables_? The market gardeners round the metropolis of this wen-headed country; round this Wen of all wens;[8] round this prodigious and monstrous collection of human beings; these market gardeners have about _three hundred thousand families to supply with vegetables_, and these they supply well too, and with summer fruits into the bargain. Now, if it demanded _ten rods to a family_, the whole would demand, all but a fraction, _nineteen thousand acres of garden ground_. We have only to cast our eyes over what there is to know that there is not a _fourth_ of that quantity. A _square mile_ contains, leaving out parts of a hundred, 700 acres of land; and 19,000 acres occupy more than _twenty-two square miles_. Are there twenty-two square miles covered with the Wen's market gardens? The very question is absurd. The whole of the market gardens from Brompton to Hammersmith, extending to Battersea Rise on the one side, and to the Bayswater road on the other side, and leaving out loads, lanes, nurseries; pastures, corn-fields, and pleasure-grounds, do not, in my opinion, cover _one square mile_. To the north and south of the Wen there is very little in the way of market garden; and if, on both sides of the Thames, to the eastward of the Wen, there be _three square miles_ actually covered with market gardens, that is the full extent. How, then, could the Wen be supplied, if it required _ten rods_ to each family? To be sure, potatoes, carrots, and turnips, and especially the first of these, are brought, for the use of the Wen, from a great distance, in many cases. But, so they are for the use of the persons I am speaking of; for a gentleman thinks no more of raising a large quantity of these things in his _garden_, than he thinks of _raising wheat there_. How is it, then, that it requires half an acre, or eighty rods, in a _private_ garden to supply a family, while these market gardeners supply all these families (and so amply too) from ten, or more likely, five rods of ground to a family? I have shown, in the last Number, that nearly fifteen tons of vegetables can be raised in a year upon forty rods of ground; that is to say, _ten loads for a wagon and four good horses_. And is not a fourth, or even an eighth, part of this weight, sufficient to go down the throats of a family in a year? Nay, allow that only _a ton_ goes to a family in a year, it is more than _six pound weight a day_; and what sort of a family must that be that really _swallows_ six pounds weight a day? and this a market gardener will raise for them upon less than _three rods_ of ground; for he will raise, in the course of the year, even more than fifteen tons upon forty rods of ground. What is it, then, that they _do_ with the eighty rods of ground in a private garden? Why, in the first place, they have _one crop_ where they ought to have _three_. Then they do not half _till_ the ground. Then they grow things that are _not wanted_. Plant cabbages and other things, let them stand till they be good for nothing, and then wheel them to the rubbish heap. Raise as many radishes, lettuces, and as much endive, and as many kidney-beans, as would serve for ten families; and finally throw nine-tenths of them away. I once saw not less than three rods of ground, in a garden of this sort, with lettuces all bearing _seed_. Seed enough for half a county. They cut a cabbage _here_ and a cabbage _there_, and so let the whole of the piece of ground remain undug, till the _last_ cabbage be cut. But, after all, the produce, even in this way, is so great, that it never could be gotten rid of, if the main part were not _thrown away_. The rubbish heap always receives four-fifths even of the _eatable_ part of the produce. 138. It is not thus that the market gardeners proceed. Their rubbish heap consists of little besides mere cabbage stumps. No sooner is one crop _on_ the ground than they settle in their minds what is to follow it. They _clear as they go_ in taking off a crop, and, as they clear they dig and plant. The ground is never without seed in it or plants on it. And thus, in the course of the year, they raise a prodigious bulk of vegetables from eighty rods of ground. Such vigilance and industry are not to be expected in a _servant_; for it is foolish to expect that a man will exert himself for another as much as he will for himself. But if I was situated as one of the persons is that I have spoken of in Paragraph 137; that is to say, if I had a garden of eighty rods, or even of sixty rods of ground, I would out of that garden, draw a sufficiency of vegetables for my family, and would make it yield enough for a _cow_ besides. I should go a short way to work with my gardener. I should put _Cottage Economy_ into his hands, and tell him, that if he could furnish me with vegetables, and my cow with food, he was my man; and that if he could not, I must get one that could and would. I am not for making a man toil like a slave; but what would become of the world, if a well-fed healthy man could exhaust himself in tilling and cropping and clearing half an acre of ground? I have known many men _dig_ thirty rods of garden ground in a day; I have, before I was fourteen, digged twenty rods in a day, for more than ten days successively; and I have heard, and believe the fact, of a man at Portsea, who digged forty rods in one single day, between daylight and dark. So that it is no slavish toil that I am here recommending. KEEPING PIGS. 139. Next after the _Cow_ comes the _Pig_; and, in many cases, where a cow cannot be kept, a pig or pigs may be kept. But these are animals not to be ventured on without due consideration as to the means of _feeding_ them; for a starved pig is a great deal worse than none at all. You cannot make bacon as you can milk, merely out of the garden. There must be _something more_. A couple of flitches of bacon are worth fifty thousand Methodist sermons and religious tracts. The sight of them upon the rack tends more to keep a man from poaching and stealing than whole volumes of penal statutes, though assisted by the terrors of the hulks and the gibbet. They are great softeners of the temper, and promoters of domestic harmony. They are a great blessing; but they are not to be had from _herbage_ or _roots_ of any kind; and, therefore, before a _pig_ be attempted, the means ought to be considered. 140. _Breeding sows_ are great favourites with Cottagers in general; but I have seldom known them to answer their purpose. Where there is an outlet, the sow will, indeed, keep herself by grazing in summer, with a little _wash_ to help her out: and when her pigs come, they are many in number; but they are a heavy expense. The sow must live as well as a _fatting hog_, or the pigs will be good for little. It is a great mistake, too, to suppose that the condition of the sow _previous to pigging_ is of no consequence; and, indeed, some suppose, that she ought to be rather _bare of flesh_ at the pigging time. Never was a greater mistake; for if she be in this state, she presently becomes a mere rack of bones; and then, do what you will, the pigs will be poor things. However fat she may be before she farrow, the pigs will make her lean in a week. All her fat goes away in her milk, and unless the pigs have a _store_ to draw upon, they pull her down directly; and, by the time they are three weeks old, they are starving for want; and then they never come to good. 141. Now, a cottager's sow cannot, without great expense, be kept in a way to enable her to meet the demands of her farrow. She may _look_ pretty well; but the flesh she has upon her is not of the same nature as that which the _farm-yard_ sow carries about her. It is the result of grass, and of poor grass, too, or other weak food; and not made partly out of corn and whey and strong wash, as in the case of the farmer's sow. No food short of that of a fatting hog will enable her to keep her pigs _alive_; and this she must have for _ten weeks_, and that at a great expense. Then comes the operation, upon the principle of _Parson Malthus_, in order to _check population_; and there is some risk here, though not very great. But there is the _weaning_; and who, that knows any thing about the matter, will think lightly of the weaning of a farrow of pigs! By having nice food given them, they seem, for a few days, not to miss their mother. But their appearance soon shows the want of her. Nothing but the very best food, and that given in the most judicious manner, will keep them up to any thing like good condition; and, indeed, there is nothing short of _milk_ that will effect the thing well. How should it be otherwise? The very richest cow's milk is poor, compared with that of the sow; and, to be taken from this and put upon food, one ingredient of which is _water_, is quite sufficient to reduce the poor little things to bare bones and staring hair, a state to which cottagers' pigs very soon come in general; and, at last, he frequently drives them to market, and sells them for less than the cost of the food which they and the sow have devoured since they were farrowed. It was, doubtless, pigs of this description that were sold the other day at Newbury market, for _fifteen pence a piece_, and which were, I dare say, dear even as a gift. To get such a pig to _begin_ to grow will require _three months_, and with good feeding too in winter time. To be sure it does come to be a hog at last; but, do what you can, it is a dear hog. 142. The _Cottager_, then, can hold no competition with the _Farmer_ in the _breeding_ of pigs, to do which, with advantage, there must be _milk_, and milk, too, that can be advantageously applied to no other use. The cottager's pig must be bought ready weaned to his hand, and, indeed, at _four months old_, at which age, if he be in good condition, he will eat any-thing that an old hog will eat. He will graze, eat cabbage leaves, and almost the stumps. Swedish turnip tops or roots, and such things, with a little wash, will keep him along in very good growing order. I have now to speak of the time of purchasing, the manner of keeping, of fatting, killing, and curing; but these I must reserve till my next Number. No. VI. KEEPING PIGS--(_continued._) 143. As in the case of cows so in that of pigs, much must depend upon the situation of the cottage; because all pigs will _graze_; and therefore, on the skirts of forests or commons, a couple or three pigs may be kept, if the family be considerable; and especially if the cottager brew his own beer, which will give him grains to assist the wash. Even in _lanes_, or on the sides of great roads, a pig will find a good part of his food from May to November; and if he be _yoked_, the occupiers of the neighbourhood must be churlish and brutish indeed, if they give the owner any annoyance. 144. Let me break off here for a moment to point out to my readers the truly excellent conduct of Lord WINCHILSEA and Lord STANHOPE, who, as I read, have taken great pains to make the labourers on their estates comfortable, by allotting to each a piece of ground sufficient for the keeping of a cow. I once, when I lived at Botley, proposed to the copyholders and other farmers in my neighbourhood, that we should petition the Bishop of Winchester, who was lord of the manors thereabouts, to grant titles to all the numerous persons called _trespassers on the wastes_; and also to give titles to others of the poor parishioners, who were willing to make, on the skirts of the wastes, enclosures not exceeding an acre each. This I am convinced, would have done a great deal towards relieving the parishes, then greatly burdened by men out of work. This would have been better than digging holes one day to fill them up the next. Not a single man would agree to my proposal! One, a bullfrog farmer (now, I hear, pretty well sweated down,) said it would only make them _saucy_! And one, a true disciple of _Malthus_, said, that to facilitate their rearing of children _was a harm_! This man had, at the time, in his own occupation, land that had formerly been _six farms_, and he had, too, ten or a dozen children. I will not mention names; but this farmer will _now_, perhaps, have occasion to call to mind what I told him on that day, when his opposition, and particularly the ground of it, gave me the more pain, as he was a very industrious, civil, and honest man. Never was there a greater mistake than to suppose that men are made saucy and idle by just and kind treatment. _Slaves_ are always lazy and saucy; nothing but the lash will extort from them either labour or respectful deportment. I never met with a _saucy_ Yankee (New Englander) in my life. Never servile; always civil. This must necessarily be the character of _freemen living in a state of competence_. They have nobody to envy; nobody to complain of; they are in good humour with mankind. It must, however, be confessed, that very little, comparatively speaking, is to be accomplished by the individual efforts even of benevolent men like the two noblemen before mentioned. They have a strife to maintain against the _general tendency of the national state of things_. It is by general and indirect means, and not by partial and direct and positive regulations, that so great a good as that which they generously aim at can be accomplished. When we are to see such means adopted, God only knows; but, if much longer delayed, I am of opinion, that they will come too late to prevent something very much resembling a dissolution of society. 145. The cottager's pig should be bought in the spring, or late in winter; and being then four months old, he will be a year old before killing time; for it should always be borne in mind, that this age is required in order to insure the greatest quantity of meat from a given quantity of food. If a hog be more than a year old, he is the better for it. The flesh is more solid and more nutritious than that of a young hog, much in the same degree that the mutton of a full-mouthed wether is better than that of a younger wether. The pork or bacon of young hogs, even if fatted on corn, is very apt to _boil out_, as they call it; that is to say, come out of the pot smaller in bulk than it goes in. When you begin to fat, do it by degrees, especially in the case of hogs under a year old. If you feed _high_ all at once, the hog is apt to _surfeit_, and then a great loss of food takes place. Peas, or barley-meal is the food; the latter rather the best, and does the work quicker. Make him _quite fat_ by all means. The last bushel, even if he sit as he eat, is the most profitable. If he can walk two hundred yards at a time, he is not well fatted. Lean bacon is the most wasteful thing that any family can use. In short, it is uneatable, except by drunkards, who want something to stimulate their sickly appetite. The man who cannot live on _solid fat_ bacon, well-fed and well-cured, wants the sweet sauce of labour, or is fit for the hospital. But, then, it must be _bacon_, the effect of barley or peas, (not beans,) and not of whey, potatoes, or _messes_ of any kind. It is frequently said, and I know that even farmers say it, that bacon, made from corn, _costs more than it is worth_! Why do they take care to have it then? They know better. They know well, that it is the very _cheapest_ they can have; and they, who look at both ends and both sides of every cost, would as soon think of shooting their hogs as of fatting them on _messes_; that is to say, for _their own use_, however willing they might now-and-then be to regale the Londoners with a bit of potato-pork. 146. About _Christmas_, if the weather be coldish, is a good time to kill. If the weather be very mild, you may wait a little longer; for the hog cannot be too fat. The day before killing he should have no food. To kill a hog nicely is so much of a profession, that it is better to pay a shilling for having it done, than to stab and hack and tear the carcass about. I shall not speak of _pork_; for I would by no means recommend it. There are two ways of going to work to make bacon; in the one you take off the hair by _scalding_. This is the practice in most parts of England, and all over America. But the _Hampshire_ way, and the best way, is to _burn the hair off_. There is a great deal of difference in the consequences. The first method slackens the skin, opens all the pores of it, makes it loose and flabby by drawing out the roots of the hair. The second tightens the skin in every part, contracts all the sinews and veins in the skin, makes the flitch a solider thing, and the skin a better protection to the meat. The taste of the meat is very different from that of a scalded hog; and to this chiefly it was that Hampshire bacon owed its reputation for excellence. As the hair is to be _burnt_ off it must be _dry_, and care must be taken, that the hog be kept on dry litter of some sort the day previous to killing. When killed he is laid upon a narrow bed of straw, not wider than his carcass, and only two or three inches thick. He is then covered all over thinly with straw, to which, according as the wind may be, the fire is put at one end. As the straw burns, it burns the hair. It requires two or three coverings and burnings, and care is taken, that the skin be not in any part burnt, or parched. When the hair is all burnt off close, the hog is _scraped_ clean, but never touched with _water_. The upper side being finished, the hog is turned over, and the other side is treated in like manner. This work should always be done _before day-light_; for in the day-light you cannot so nicely discover whether the hair be sufficiently burnt off. The light of the fire is weakened by that of the day. Besides, it makes the boys get up very early for once at any rate, and that is something; for boys always like a bonfire. 147. The _inwards_ are next taken out, and if the wife be not a slattern, here, in the mere offal, in the mere garbage, there is food, and delicate food too, for a large family for a week; and hog's puddings for the children, and some for neighbours' children, who come to play with them; for these things are by no means to be overlooked, seeing that they tend to the keeping alive of that affection in children for their parents, which, later in life, will be found absolutely necessary to give effect to wholesome precept, especially when opposed to the boisterous passions of youth. 148. The butcher, the next day, cuts the hog up; and then the house is _filled with meat_! Souse, griskins, blade-bones, thigh-bones, spare-ribs, chines, belly-pieces, cheeks, all coming into use one after the other, and the last of the latter not before the end of about four or five weeks. But about this time, it is more than possible that the Methodist parson will pay you a visit. It is remarked in America, that these gentry are attracted by the squeaking of the pigs, as the fox is by the cackling of the hen. This may be called slander; but I will tell you what I did know to happen. A good honest careful fellow had a spare-rib, on which he intended to sup with his family after a long and hard day's work at coppice-cutting. Home he came at dark with his two little boys, each with a nitch of wood that they had carried four miles, cheered with the thought of the repast that awaited them. In he went, found his wife, the Methodist parson, and a whole troop of the sisterhood, engaged in prayer, and on the table lay scattered the clean-polished bones of the spare-rib! Can any reasonable creature believe, that, to save the soul, God requires us to give up the food necessary to sustain the body? Did Saint Paul preach this? He, who, while he spread the gospel abroad, _worked himself_, in order to have it to give to those who were unable to work? Upon what, then, do these modern saints; these evangelical gentlemen, found their claim to live on the labour of others. 149. All the other parts taken away, the two sides that remain, and that are called _flitches_, are to be cured for _bacon_. They are first rubbed with salt on their insides, or flesh sides, then placed, one on the other, the flesh sides uppermost, in a salting trough which has a gutter round its edges to drain away the _brine_; for, to have sweet and fine bacon, the flitches must not lie sopping in brine; which gives it that sort of taste which barrel-pork and sea-jonk have, and than which nothing is more villanous. Every one knows how different is the taste of fresh, dry salt, from that of salt in a dissolved state. The one is savoury, the other nauseous. Therefore, _change the salt often_. Once in four or five days. Let it melt, and sink in; but let it not lie too long. Change the flitches. Put that at bottom which was first put on the top. Do this a couple of times. This mode will cost you a great deal more in salt, or rather in _taxes_, than the _sopping mode_; but without it, your bacon will not be sweet and fine, and _will not keep so well_. As to the _time_ required for making the flitches sufficiently salt, it depends on circumstances; the thickness of the flitch, the state of the weather, the place wherein the salting is going on. It takes a longer time for a thick than for a thin flitch; it takes longer in dry, than in damp weather; it takes longer in a dry than in a damp place. But for the flitches of a hog of twelve score, in weather not very dry or very damp, about six weeks may do; and as yours is to be _fat_, which receives little injury from over-salting, give time enough; for you are to have bacon till Christmas comes again. The place for salting should, like a dairy, always be cool, but always admit of a _free circulation of air_: _confined_ air, though _cool_, will taint meat sooner than the mid-day sun accompanied with a breeze. Ice will not melt in the hottest sun so soon as in a close and damp cellar. Put a lump of ice in _cold water_, and one of the same size before a _hot fire_, and the former will dissolve in half the time that the latter will. Let me take this occasion of observing, that an ice-house should never be _under ground_, or _under the shade of trees_. That the bed of it ought to be three feet above the level of the ground; that this bed ought to consist of something that will admit the drippings to go instantly off; and that the house should stand in a place _open to the sun and air_. This is the way they have the ice-houses under the burning sun of Virginia; and here they keep their fish and meat as fresh and sweet as in winter, when at the same time neither will keep for twelve hours, though let down to the depth of a hundred feet in a well. A Virginian, with some poles and straw, will stick up an ice-house for ten dollars, worth a dozen of those ice-houses, each of which costs our men of taste as many scores of pounds. It is very hard to imagine, indeed, what any one should want ice _for_, in a country like this, except for clodpole boys to slide upon, and to drown cockneys in skaiting-time; but if people must have ice in summer, they may as well go a right way as a wrong way to get it. 150. However, the patient that I have at this time under my hands wants nothing to cool his blood, but something to warm it, and, therefore, I will get back to the flitches of bacon, which are now to be _smoked_; for smoking is a great deal better than merely _drying_, as is the fashion in the dairy countries in the West of England. When there were plenty of _farm_-houses there were plenty of places to smoke bacon in; since farmers have lived in gentleman's houses, and the main part of the farm-houses have been knocked down, these places are not so plenty. However, there is scarcely any neighbourhood without a chimney left to hang bacon up in. Two precautions are necessary: first, to hang the flitches where no _rain_ comes down upon them: second, not to let them be so near the fire as to _melt_. These precautions taken, the next is, that the smoke must proceed from _wood_, not turf, peat, or coal. Stubble or litter might do; but the trouble would be great. _Fir_, or _deal_, smoke is not fit for the purpose. I take it, that the absence of wood, as fuel, in the dairy countries, and in the North, has led to the making of pork and dried bacon. As to the _time_ that it requires to smoke a flitch, it must depend a good deal upon whether there be a _constant fire beneath_, and whether the fire be large or small. A month may do, if the fire be pretty constant, and such as a farm-house fire usually is. But over smoking, or, rather, too long hanging in the air, makes the bacon _rust_. Great attention should, therefore, be paid to this matter. The flitch ought not be dried up to the hardness of a board, and yet it ought to be perfectly dry. Before you hang it up, lay it on the floor, scatter the flesh-side pretty thickly over with bran, or with some fine saw-dust other than that of deal or fir. Rub it on the flesh, or pat it well down upon it. This keeps the smoke from getting into the little openings, and makes a sort of crust to be dried on; and, in short, keeps the flesh cleaner than it would otherwise be. 151. To keep the bacon sweet and good, and free from nasty things that they call _hoppers_; that is to say, a sort of skipping maggots, engendered by a fly which has a great relish for bacon: to provide against this mischief, and also to keep the bacon from becoming rusty, the Americans, whose country is so hot in summer, have two methods. They smoke no part of the hog except the hams, or gammons. They cover these with coarse linen cloth such as the finest hop-bags are made of, which they sew neatly on. They then _white-wash_ the cloth all over with _lime_ white-wash, such as we put on walls, their lime being excellent stone-lime. They give the ham four or five washings, the one succeeding as the former gets dry; and in the sun, all these washings are put on in a few hours. The flies cannot get through this; and thus the meat is preserved from them. The _other_ mode, and that is the mode for you, is, to sift _fine_ some clean and dry _wood-ashes_. Put some at the bottom of a box, or chest, which is long enough to hold a flitch of bacon. Lay in one flitch; then put in more ashes; then the _other flitch_; and then cover this with six or eight inches of the ashes. This will effectually keep away all flies; and will keep the bacon as fresh and good as when it came out of the chimney, which it will not be for any great length of time, if put on a rack, or kept hung up in the open air. _Dust_, or even _sand_, very, very _dry_, would, perhaps, do as well. The object is not only to keep out the flies, but the _air_. The place where the chest, or box, is kept, ought to be _dry_; and, if the ashes should get damp (as they are apt to do from the salts they contain,) they should be put in the fire-place to dry, and then be put back again. Peat-ashes, or turf-ashes, might do very well for this purpose. With these precautions, the bacon will be as good at the end of the year as on the first day; and it will keep two, and even three years, perfectly good, for which, however, there can be no necessity. 152. Now, then, this hog is altogether a capital thing. The other parts will be meat for about four or five weeks. The _lard_, nicely put down, will last a long while for all the purposes for which it is wanted. To make it keep well there should be some salt put into it. Country children are badly brought up if they do not like sweet lard spread upon bread, as we spread butter. Many a score hunches of this sort have I eaten, and I never knew what poverty was. I have eaten it for luncheon at the houses of good substantial farmers in France and Flanders. I am not now frequently so hungry as I ought to be; but I should think it no hardship to eat _sweet_ lard instead of butter. But, now-a-days, the labourers, and especially the female part of them, have fallen into the taste of _niceness_ in food and _finery in dress_; a quarter of a bellyful and rags are the consequence. The food of their choice is high-priced, so that, for the greater part of their time, they are half-starved. The dress of their choice is _showy_ and _flimsy_, so that, to-day, they are _ladies_, and to-morrow ragged as sheep with the scab. But has not Nature made the country girls as pretty as ladies? Oh, yes! (bless their rosy cheeks and white teeth!) and a great deal prettier too! But are they _less_ pretty, when their dress is plain and substantial, and when the natural presumption is, that they have smocks as well as gowns, than they are when drawn off in the frail fabric of Sir Robert Peel,[9] "where tawdry colours strive with dirty white," exciting violent suspicions that all is not as it ought to be nearer the skin, and calling up a train of ideas extremely hostile to that sort of feeling which every lass innocently and commendably wishes to awaken in her male beholders? Are they prettiest when they come through the wet and dirt safe and neat; or when their draggled dress is plastered to their backs by a shower of rain? However, the fault has not been theirs, nor that of their parents. It is _the system_ of managing the affairs of the nation. This system has made all _flashy_ and _false_, and has put all things out of their place. Pomposity, bombast, hyperbole, redundancy, and obscurity, both in speaking and in writing; mock-delicacy in manners; mock-liberality, mock-humanity, and mock-religion. Pitt's false money, Peel's flimsy dresses, Wilberforce's potatoe diet, Castlereagh's and Mackintosh's oratory, Walter Scott's poems, Walter's and Stoddart's[10] paragraphs, with all the bad taste and baseness and hypocrisy which they spread over this country; all have arisen, grown, branched out, bloomed, and borne together; and we are now beginning to taste of their fruit. But, as the fat of the adder is, as is said, the antidote to its sting; so in the Son of the great worker of Spinning-Jennies, we have, thanks to the Proctors and Doctors of Oxford, the author of that _Bill_, before which this false, this flashy, this flimsy, this rotten system will dissolve as one of his father's pasted calicoes does at the sight of the washing-tub. 153. "What," says the cottager, "has all this to do with hogs and bacon?" Not directly with hogs and bacon, indeed; but it has a great deal to do, my good fellow with your affairs, as I shall, probably, hereafter more fully show, though I shall now leave you to the enjoyment of your flitches of bacon, which, as I before observed, will do ten thousand times more than any Methodist parson, or any other parson (except, of course, those of _our_ church) to make you happy, not only in this world, but in the world to come. _Meat in the house_ is a great source of _harmony_, a great preventer of the temptation to commit those things, which, from small beginnings, lead, finally, to the most fatal and atrocious results; and I hold that doctrine to be _truly damnable_, which teaches that God has made any selection, any condition relative to belief, which is to save from punishment those who violate the principles of _natural justice_. 154. _Some_ other meat you may have; but, bacon is the great thing. It is always ready; as good cold as hot; goes to the field or the coppice conveniently; in harvest, and other busy times, demands the pot to be boiled only on a Sunday; has twice as much strength in it as any other thing of the same weight; and in short, has in it every quality that tends to make a labourer's family able to work and well off. One pound of bacon, such as that which I have described, is, in a labourer's family, worth four or five of ordinary mutton or beef, which are great part _bone_, and which, in short, are gone in a moment. But always observe, it is _fat bacon_ that I am talking about. There will, in spite of all that can be done, be _some_ lean in the gammons, though comparatively very little; and therefore you ought to begin at that end of the flitches; for, _old lean bacon_ is not good. 155. Now, as to the _cost_. A pig (a _spayed sow_ is best) bought in March four months old, can be had now for fifteen shillings. The cost till fatting time is next to nothing to a Cottager; and then the cost, at the present price of corn, would, for a hog of twelve score, not exceed _three pounds_; in the whole _four pounds five_; a pot of poison a week bought at the public-house comes to _twenty-six shillings_ of the money; and more than _three times the remainder_ is generally flung away upon the miserable _tea_, as I have clearly shown in the First Number, at Paragraph 24. I have, indeed, there shown, that if the tea were laid aside, the labourer might supply his family well with beer all the year round, and have a fat hog of even _fifteen score_ for the _cost of the tea_, which does him and can do him _no good at all_. 156. The feet, the cheeks, and other bone, being considered, the _bacon and lard_, taken together, would not exceed _sixpence a pound_. Irish bacon is "_cheaper_." Yes, _lower-priced_. But, I will engage that a pound of mine, when it comes _out_ of the pot (to say nothing of the _taste_,) shall weigh as much as a _pound and a half_ of Irish, or any dairy or slop-fed bacon, when that comes out of the pot. No, no: the farmers joke when they say, that their bacon _costs them more than_ they could buy bacon for. They know well what it is they are doing; and besides, they always forget, or, rather, remember not to say, that the fatting of a large hog yields them three or four load of dung, really worth more than ten or fifteen of common yard dung. In short, without hogs, farming _could not go on_; and it never has gone on in any country in the world. The hogs are the great _stay_ of the whole concern. They are _much in small space_; they make no _show_, as flocks and herds do; but with out them, the cultivation of the land would be a poor, a miserably barren concern. SALTING MUTTON AND BEEF. 157. _VERY FAT_ Mutton may be salted to great advantage, and also smoked, and may be kept thus a long while. Not the shoulders and legs, but the _back_ of the sheep. I have never made any flitch of _sheep-bacon_; but I will; for there is nothing like having a _store_ of meat in a house. The running to the butchers daily is a ridiculous thing. The very idea of being fed, of a _family_ being fed, by daily supplies, has something in it perfectly _tormenting_. One half of the time of a mistress of a house, the affairs of which are carried on in this way, is taken up in talking about what is to be got for dinner, and in negotiations with the butcher. One single moment spent at table beyond what is absolutely necessary, is a moment very shamefully spent; but, to suffer a system of domestic economy, which unnecessarily wastes daily an hour or two of the mistress's time in hunting for the provision for the repast, is a shame indeed; and when we consider how much time is generally spent in this and in equally absurd ways, it is no wonder that we see so little performed by numerous individuals as they do perform during the course of their lives. 158. _Very fat parts of Beef_ may be salted and smoked in a like manner. Not the _lean_; for that is a great waste, and is, in short, good for nothing. Poor fellows on board of ships are compelled to eat it, but it is a very bad thing. No. VII. BEES, FOWLS, &C. &C. 159. I now proceed to treat of objects of less importance than the foregoing, but still such as may be worthy of great attention. If all of them cannot be expected to come within the scope of a labourer's family, some of them must, and others may: and it is always of great consequence, that children be brought up to set a just value upon all useful things, and especially upon all _living things_; to know the _utility_ of them: for, without this, they never, when grown up, are worthy of being entrusted with the _care_ of them. One of the greatest, and, perhaps, the very commonest, fault of servants, is their inadequate care of animals committed to their charge. It is a well-known saying that "the _master's eye_ makes the horse fat," and the remissness to which this alludes, is generally owing to the servant not having been brought up to feel _an interest_ in the well-being of animals. BEES. 160. It is not my intention to enter into a history of this insect about which so much has been written, especially by the French naturalists. It is the _useful_ that I shall treat of, and that is done in not many words. The best _hives_ are those made of clean unblighted _rye-straw_. Boards are too cold in England. A swarm should always be put into a _new_ hive, and the sticks should be _new_ that are put into the hive for the bees to work on; for, if the hive be old, it is not so _wholesome_, and a thousand to one but it contain the embryos of _moths_ and other insects injurious to bees. Over the hive itself there should be a cap of thatch, made also of clean rye straw; and it should not only be _new_ when first put on the hive; but a new one should be made to supply the place of the former one every three or four months; for when the straw begins to get rotten, as it soon does, insects breed in it, its smell is bad, and its effect on the bees is dangerous. 161. The hive should be placed on a bench, the legs of which mice and rats cannot creep up. Tin round the legs is best. But even this will not keep down _ants_, which are mortal enemies of bees. To keep these away, if you find them infest the hive, take a green stick and twist it round in the shape of a ring to lay on the ground round the leg of the bench, and at a few inches from it; and cover this stick with _tar_. This will keep away the ants. If the ants come from one home, you may easily _trace them to it_; and when you have found it, pour _boiling water_ on it in the night, when all the family are at home. This is the only effectual way of destroying ants, which are frequently so troublesome. It would be cruel to cause this destruction, if it were not necessary to do it, in order to preserve the honey, and indeed the bees too. 162. Besides the hive and its cap, there should be a sort of shed, with top, back, and ends, to give additional protection in winter; though in summer hives may be kept _too hot_, and in that case the bees become sickly and the produce becomes light. The _situation_ of the hive is to face the South-east; or, at any rate, to be sheltered from the _North_ and the _West_. From the North always, and from the West in winter. If it be a very dry season in summer, it contributes greatly to the success of the bees, to place clear water near their home, in a thing that they can conveniently drink out of; for if they have to go a great way for drink, they have not much time for work. 163. It is supposed that bees live only a year; at any rate it is best never to keep the same stall, or family, over two years, except you want to increase your number of hives. The swarm of _this summer_ should always be taken in the autumn of next year. It is whimsical to _save_ the bees when you take the honey. You must _feed_ them; and, if saved, they will die of old age before the next fall; and though young ones will supply the place of the dead, this is nothing like a good swarm put up during the summer. 164. As to the things that bees make their collections from, we do not, perhaps, know a thousandth part of them; but of all the blossoms that they seek eagerly that of the _Buck-wheat_ stands foremost. Go round a piece of this grain just towards sunset, when the buck-wheat is in bloom, and you will see the air filled with bees going home from it in all directions. The buck-wheat, too, continues in bloom a long while; for the grain is dead ripe on one part of the plant, while there are fresh blossoms coming out on the other part. 165. A good stall of bees, that is to say, the produce of one, is always worth about _two bushels of good wheat_. The _cost_ is nothing to the labourer. He must be a stupid countryman indeed who cannot make a bee-hive; and a lazy one indeed if he _will_ not, if he can. In short, there is nothing but _care_ demanded; and there are very few situations in the country, especially in the south of England, where a labouring man may not have half a dozen stalls of bees to take every year. The main things are to keep away insects, mice, and birds, and especially a little bird called the bee-bird; and to keep all clean and fresh as to the hives and coverings. Never put a swarm into an _old hive_. If wasps, or hornets, annoy you, watch them home in the day time; and in the night kill them by fire, or by boiling water. Fowls should not go where bees are, for they eat them. 166. Suppose a man get three stalls of bees in a year. Six bushels of wheat give him bread for an _eighth part of the year_. Scarcely any thing is a greater misfortune than _shiftlessness_. It is an evil little short of the loss of eyes or of limbs. GEESE. 167. They can be kept to advantage only where there are _green commons_, and there they are easily kept; live to a very great age; and are amongst the hardiest animals in the world. If _well kept_, a goose will lay a hundred eggs in a year. The French put their eggs under large hens of common fowls, to each of which they give four or five eggs; or under turkies, to which they give nine or ten goose-eggs. If the goose herself sit, she must be well and _regularly fed_, at, or near to, her nest. When the young ones are hatched, they should be kept in a warm place for about four days, and fed on barley-meal, mixed, if possible, with milk; and then they will begin to _graze_. Water for them, or for the old ones to _swim_ in, is by no means _necessary_, nor, perhaps, ever even _useful_. Or, how is it, that you see such fine flocks of fine geese all over Long Island (in America) where there is scarcely such a thing as a pond or a run of water? 168. Geese are raised by _grazing_; but to _fat_ them something more is required. Corn of some sort, or boiled Swedish turnips. Some corn and some raw Swedish turnips, or carrots, or white cabbages, or lettuces, make the best fatting. The modes that are resorted to by the French for fatting geese, _nailing_ them down by their webs, and other acts of cruelty, are, I hope, such as Englishmen will never think of. They will get fat enough without the use of any of these unfeeling means being employed. He who can deliberately inflict _torture_ upon an animal, in order to heighten the pleasure his palate is to receive in eating it, is an abuser of the authority which God has given him, and is, indeed, a tyrant in his heart. Who would think himself safe, if at the _mercy_ of such a man? Since the first edition of this work was published, I have had a good deal of experience with regard to geese. It is a very great error to suppose that what is called a Michaelmas goose is _the thing_. Geese are, in general, eaten at the age when they are called green geese; or after they have got their full and entire growth, which is not until the latter part of October. Green geese are tasteless squabs; loose flabby things; no rich taste in them; and, in short, a very indifferent sort of dish. The full-grown goose has solidity in it; but it is _hard_, as well as solid; and in place of being _rich_, it is strong. Now, there is a middle course to take; and if you take this course, you produce the finest birds of which we can know any thing in England. For three years, including the present year, I have had the finest geese that I ever saw, or ever heard of. I have bought from twenty to thirty every one of these years. I buy them off the common late in June, or very early in July. They have cost me from two shillings to three shillings each, first purchase. I bring the flock home, and put them in a pen, about twenty feet square, where I keep them well littered with straw, so as for them not to get filthy. They have one trough in which I give them dry oats, and they have another trough where they have constantly plenty of clean water. Besides these, we give them, two or three times a day, a parcel of lettuces out of the garden. We give them such as are going to seed generally; but the better the lettuces are, the better the geese. If we have no lettuces to spare, we give them cabbages, either loaved or not loaved; though, observe, the white cabbage as well as the white lettuce, that is to say, the loaved cabbage and lettuce, are a great deal better than those that are not loaved. This is the food of my geese. They thrive exceedingly upon this food. After we have had the flock about ten days, we begin to kill, and we proceed once or twice a week till about the middle of October, sometimes later. A great number of persons who have eaten of these geese have all declared that they did not imagine that a goose could be brought to be so good a bird. These geese are altogether different from the hard, strong things that come out of the stubble fields, and equally different from the flabby things called a green goose. I should think that the cabbages or lettuces perform half the work of keeping and fatting my geese; and these are things that really cost nothing. I should think that the geese, upon an average, do not consume more than a shilling's worth of oats each. So that we have these beautiful geese for about four shillings each. No money will buy me such a goose in London; but the thing that I can get nearest to it, will cost me _seven_ shillings. Every gentleman has a garden. That garden has, in the month of July, a wagon-load, at least, of lettuces and cabbages to throw away. Nothing is attended with so little trouble as these geese. There is hardly any body near London that has not room for the purposes here mentioned. The reader will be apt to exclaim, as my friends very often do, "Cobbett's Geese are all _Swans_." Well, better that way than not to be pleased with what one has. However, let gentlemen try this method of fatting geese. It saves money, mind, at the same time. Let them try it; and if any one, who shall try it, shall find the effect not to be that which I say it is, let him reproach me publicly with being a deceiver. The thing is no _invention_ of mine. While I could buy a goose off the common for half-a-crown, I did not like to give seven shillings for one in London, and yet I wished that geese should not be excluded from my house. Therefore I bought a flock of geese, and brought them home to Kensington. They could not be eaten all at once. It was necessary, therefore, to fix upon a mode of feeding them. The above mode was adopted by my servant, as far as I know, without any knowledge of mine; but the very agreeable result made me look into the matter; and my opinion, that the information will be useful to many persons, at any rate, is sufficient to induce me to communicate it to my readers. DUCKS. 169. No water, to _swim_ in, is necessary to the old, and is _injurious_ to the very young. They never should be suffered to swim (if water be near) till _more than a month old_. The old duck will lay, in the year, if _well kept_, ten dozen of eggs; and that is her best employment; for common hens are the best mothers. It is not good to let young ducks out in the morning to eat _slugs_ and _worms_; for, though they like them, these things kill them if they eat a great quantity. Grass, corn, white cabbages, and lettuces, and especially buck-wheat, cut, when half ripe, and flung down in the haulm. This makes fine ducks. Ducks will feed on garbage and all sorts of filthy things; but their flesh is _strong_, and bad in proportion. They are, in Long Island, fatted upon a coarse sort of _crab_, called a horse-foot fish, prodigious quantities of which are cast on the shores. The young ducks grow very fast upon this, and very fat; but wo unto him that has to _smell_ them when they come from the spit; and, as for _eating_ them, a man must have a stomach indeed to do that! 170. When young, they should be fed upon barley-meal, or _curds_, and kept in a warm place in the night-time, and not let out _early_ in the morning. They should, if possible, be kept from water to _swim_ in. It always does them harm; and, if intended to be sold to be killed _young_, they should never go near ponds, ditches, or streams. When you come to fat ducks, you must take care that they get at _no filth_ whatever. They will eat garbage of all sorts; they will suck down the most nauseous particles of all those substances which go for manure. A dead rat three parts rotten is a feast to them. For these reasons I should never eat any ducks, unless there were some mode of keeping them from this horrible food. I treat them precisely as I do my geese. I buy a troop when they are young, and put them in a pen, and feed them upon oats, cabbages, lettuces, and water, and have the place kept very clean. My ducks are, in consequence of this, a great deal more fine and delicate than any others that I know any-thing of. TURKEYS. 171. These are _flying_ things, and so are _common fowls_. But it may happen that a few hints respecting them may be of use. To raise turkeys in this chilly climate, is a matter of much greater difficulty than in the climates that give great warmth. But the great enemy to young turkeys (for old ones are hardy enough) _is the wet_. This they will endure in _no climate_; and so true is this, that, in America, where there is always "_a wet spell_" in April, the farmers' wives take care never to have a brood come out until that spell is passed. In England, where the wet spells come at haphazard, the first thing is to take care that young turkeys never go out, on any account, except in dry weather, till the _dew be quite off the ground_; and this should be adhered to till they get to be of the size of an old partridge, and have their backs well covered with feathers. And, in wet weather, they should be kept under cover all day long. 172. As to the _feeding_ of them, when young, various nice things are recommended. Hard eggs chopped fine, with crumbs of bread, and a great many other things; but that which I have seen used, and always with success, and for all sorts of young poultry, is milk _turned into curds_. This is the food for young poultry of all sorts. Some should be made _fresh every_ day; and if this be done, and the young turkeys kept warm, and especially _from wet_, not one out of a score will die. When they get to be strong, they may have meal and grain, but still they always love the curds. 173. When they get their _head feathers_ they are hardy enough; and what they then want is _room_ to prowl about. It is best to breed them under a _common hen_; because she does not _ramble_ like a hen-turkey; and it is a very curious thing that the turkeys bred up by a hen of the common fowl, _do not themselves ramble much when they get old_; and for this reason, when they buy turkeys for _stock_, in America, (where there are such large woods, and where the distant rambling of turkeys is inconvenient,) they always buy such as have been bred under the hens of the common fowl; than which a more complete proof of the great powers of _habit_ is, perhaps, not to be found. And ought not this to be a lesson to fathers and mothers of families? Ought not they to consider that the habits which they give their children are to stick by those children during their whole lives? 174. The _hen_ should be fed _exceedingly well_, too, while she is _sitting_ and _after_ she has hatched; for though she does not give _milk_, she gives _heat_; and, let it be observed, that as no man ever yet saw healthy pigs with a poor sow, so no man ever saw healthy chickens with a poor hen. This is a matter much too little thought of in the rearing of poultry; but it is a matter of the greatest consequence. Never let a poor hen sit; feed the hen well while she is sitting, and feed her most abundantly when she has young ones; for then her _labour_ is very great; she is making exertions of some sort or other during the whole twenty-four hours; she has no rest; is constantly doing something or other to provide food or safety for her young ones. 175. As to _fatting_ turkeys, the best way is, never to let them be poor. _Cramming_ is a nasty thing, and quite unnecessary. Barley-meal, mixed with skim-milk, given to them, fresh and fresh, will make them fat in a short time, either in a coop, in a house, or running about. Boiled carrots and Swedish turnips will help, and it is a change of sweet food. In France they sometimes _pick turkeys alive_, to make them _tender_; of which I shall only say, that the man that can do this, or order it to be done, ought to be skinned alive himself. FOWLS. 176. These are kept for two objects; their _flesh_ and their _eggs_. As to _rearing them_, every thing said about rearing turkeys is applicable here. They are best _fatted_, too, in the same manner. But, as to _laying-hens_, there are some means to be used to secure the use of them in _winter_. They ought not to be _old hens_. Pullets, that is, birds hatched in the foregoing spring, are, perhaps, the best. At any rate, let them not be more than _two years old_. They should be kept in a _warm_ place, and not let out, even in the day-time, in _wet_ weather; for one good sound wetting will keep them back for a fortnight. The dry cold, even in the severest cold, if _dry_, is less injurious than even a little _wet_ in winter-time. If the feathers get wet, in our climate, in winter, or in short days, they do not get dry for a long time; and this it is that spoils and kills many of our fowls. 177. The French, who are great egg-eaters, take singular pains as to the _food_ of laying-hens in winter. They let them out very little, even in their fine climate, and give them very stimulating food; barley boiled, and given them warm; curds, _buck-wheat_, (which, I believe, is the best thing of all except curds;) parsley and other herbs chopped fine; leeks chopped in the same way; also apples and pears chopped very fine; oats and wheat cribbled; and sometimes they give them hemp-seed, and the seed of nettles; or dried nettles, harvested in summer, and boiled in the winter. Some give them ordinary food, and, once a day, toasted bread sopped in wine. White cabbages chopped up are very good in winter for all sorts of poultry. 178. This is taking a great deal of pains; but the produce is also great and very valuable in winter; for, as to _preserved_ eggs, they are things to run _from_ and not after. All this supposes, however, a proper _hen-house_, about which we, in England, take very little pains. The _vermin_, that is to say, the _lice_, that poultry breed, are the greatest annoyance. And as our wet climate furnishes them, for a great part of the year, with no _dust_ by which to get rid of these vermin, we should be very careful about _cleanliness_ in the hen-houses. Many a hen, when sitting, is compelled to quit her nest to get rid of the lice. They torment the young chickens. And, in short, are a great injury. The fowl-house should, therefore, be very often cleaned out; and sand, or fresh earth, should be thrown on the floor. The nest should not be on _shelves_, or on any-thing fixed; but little flat baskets, something like those that the gardeners have in the markets in London, and which they call _sieves_, should be placed against the sides of the house upon pieces of wood nailed up for the purpose. By this means the nests are kept perfectly clean, because the baskets are, when necessary, taken down, the hay thrown out, and the baskets washed; which cannot be done, if the nest be made in any-thing forming a part of the building. Besides this, the roosts ought to be cleaned every week, and the hay changed in the nests of laying-hens. It is good to _fumigate_ the house frequently by burning dry herbs, juniper wood, cedar wood, or with brimstone; for nothing stands so much in need of cleanliness as a fowl-house, in order to have fine fowls and plenty of eggs. 179. The _ailments_ of fowls are numerous, but they would seldom be seen, if the proper care were taken. It is useless to talk of _remedies_ in a case where you have complete power to prevent the evil. If well fed, and kept perfectly clean, fowls will seldom be sick; and, as to old age, they never ought to be kept more than a couple or three years; for they get to be good for little as layers, and no _teeth_ can face them as food. 180. It is, perhaps, seldom that fowls can be kept conveniently about a cottage; but when they can, three, four, or half a dozen hens to lay in _winter_, when the wife is at _home_ the greater part of the time, are worth attention. They would require but little room, might be bought in November and sold in April, and six of them, with proper care, might be made to clear every week the price of a gallon of flour. If the labour were great, I should not think of it; but it is _none_; and I am for neglecting nothing in the way of pains in order to ensure a hot dinner every day in winter, when the man comes home from work. As to the _fatting_ of fowls, information can be of no use to those who live in a cottage all their lives; but it may be of some use to those who are born in cottages, and go to have the care of poultry at richer persons' houses. Fowls should be put to fat about a fortnight before they are wanted to be killed. The best food is barley-meal wetted with milk, but not wetted too much. They should have clear water to drink, and it should be frequently changed. Crammed fowls are very nasty things: but "_barn-door_" fowls, as they are called, are sometimes a great deal more nasty. _Barn_-door would, indeed, do exceedingly well; but it unfortunately happens that the _stable_ is generally pretty near to the barn. And now let any gentleman who talks about sweet barn-door fowls, have one caught in the yard, where the stable is also. Let him have it brought in, killed, and the craw taken out and cut open. Then let him take a ball of horse-dung from the stable-door; and let his nose tell him how very small is the difference between the smell of the horse-dung, and the smell of the craw of his fowl. In short, roast the fowl, and then pull aside the skin at the neck, put your nose to the place, and you will almost think that you are at the stable door. Hence the necessity of taking them away from the barn-door a fortnight, at least, before they are killed. We know very well that ducks that have been fed upon fish, either wild ducks, or tame ducks, will scent a whole room, and drive out of it all those who have not pretty good constitutions. It must be so. Solomon says that all flesh is grass; and those who know any-thing about beef, know the difference between the effect of the grass in Herefordshire and Lincolnshire, and the effect of turnips and oil cake. In America they always take the fowls from the farm-yard, and shut them up a fortnight or three weeks before they be killed. One thing, however, about fowls ought always to be borne in mind. They are never good for any-thing when they have attained their full growth, unless they be _capons_ or _poullards_. If the poulets be old enough to have little eggs in them, they are not worth one farthing; and as to the cocks of the same age, they are fit for nothing but to make soup for soldiers on their march, and they ought to be taken for that purpose. PIGEONS. 181. A few of these may be kept about any cottage, for they are kept even in towns by labourers and artizans. They cause but little trouble. They take care of their own young ones; and they do not scratch, or do any other mischief in gardens. They want feeding with tares, peas, or small beans; and buck-wheat is very good for them. To _begin_ keeping them, they must not have _flown at large_ before you get them. You must keep them for two or three days, shut into the place which is to be their home; and then they may be let out, and will never leave you, as long as they can get proper food, and are undisturbed by vermin, or unannoyed exceedingly by lice. 182. The common dove-house pigeons are the best to keep. They breed oftenest, and feed their young ones best. They begin to breed at about _nine months old_, and if well kept, they will give you eight or nine pair in the year. Any little place, a shelf in the cow shed; a board or two under the eaves of the house; or, in short, any place under cover, even on the ground floor, they will sit and hatch and breed up their young ones in. 183. It is not supposed that there could be much _profit_ attached to them; but they are of this use; they are very pretty creatures; very interesting in their manners; they are an object to delight _children_, and to give them the _early habit_ of fondness for animals and of _setting a value_ on them, which, as I have often had to observe before, is a very great thing. A considerable part of all the _property_ of a nation consists of animals. Of course a proportionate part of the cares and labours of a people appertain to the breeding and bringing to perfection those animals; and, if you consult your experience, you will find that a labourer is, generally speaking, of value in proportion as he is worthy of being intrusted with the care of animals. The most careless fellow cannot _hurt_ a hedge or ditch; but to trust him with the _team_, or the _flock_, is another matter. And, mind, for the _man_ to be trust-worthy in this respect, the _boy_ must have been in the _habit_ of being kind and considerate towards animals; and nothing is so likely to give him that excellent habit as his seeing, from his very birth, animals taken great care of, and treated with great kindness by his parents, and now-and-then having a little thing to _call his own_. RABBITS. 184. In this case, too, the chief use, perhaps, is to give children those habits of which I have been just speaking. Nevertheless, rabbits are really profitable. Three does and a buck will give you a rabbit to eat for _every three days in the year_, which is a much larger quantity of food than any man will get by spending half his time in the pursuit of _wild_ animals, to say nothing of the toil, the tearing of clothes, and the danger of pursuing the latter. 185. Every-body knows how to knock up a rabbit hutch. The does should not be allowed to have more than _seven litters_ in a year. Six young ones to a doe is all that ought to be kept; and then they will be fine. _Abundant food_ is the main thing; and what is there that a rabbit will _not eat_? I know of nothing _green_ that they will not eat; and if hard pushed, they will eat bark, and even wood. The best thing to feed the young ones on when taken from the mother, is the _carrot_, wild or garden. Parsnips, Swedish turnips, roots of dandelion; for too much green or _watery_ stuff is not good for _weaning_ rabbits. They should remain as long as possible with the mother. They should have oats once a-day; and, after a time, they may eat any-thing with safety. But if you give them too much _green_ at first when they are weaned, they _rot_ as sheep do. A _variety_ of food is a great thing; and, surely, the fields and gardens and hedges furnish this variety! All sorts of grasses, strawberry-leaves, ivy, dandelions, the _hog-weed_ or _wild parsnip_, in root, stem, and leaves. I have fed working horses, six or eight in number, upon this plant for weeks together. It is a tall bold plant that grows in prodigious quantities in the hedges and coppices in some parts of England. It is the _perennial parsnip_. It has flower and seed precisely like those of the parsnip; and hogs, cows, and horses, are equally fond of it. Many a half-starved pig have I seen within a few yards of cart-loads of this pig-meat! This arises from want of the early habit of attention to such matters. I, who used to get hog-weed for pigs and for rabbits when a little chap, have never forgotten that the wild parsnip is good food for pigs and rabbits. 186. When the doe has young ones, feed her most abundantly with all sorts of greens and herbage and with carrots and the other things mentioned before, besides giving her a few oats once a-day. That is the way to have fine healthy young ones, which, if they come from the mother in good case, will very seldom die. But do not think, that because she is a small animal, a little feeding is sufficient! Rabbits eat a great deal more than cows or sheep in proportion to their bulk. 187. Of all animals rabbits are those that _boys_ are most fond of. They are extremely pretty, nimble in their movements, engaging in their attitudes, and always completely under immediate control. The produce has not long to be waited for. In short, they keep an interest constantly alive in a little chap's mind; and they really _cost nothing_; for as to the _oats_, where is the boy that cannot, in harvest-time, pick up enough along the _lanes_ to serve his rabbits for a year? The _care_ is all; and the habit of taking care of things is, of itself, a most valuable possession. 188. To those gentlemen who keep rabbits for the use of their family (and a very useful and convenient article they are,) I would observe, that when they find their rabbits die, they may depend on it, that ninety-nine times out of the hundred _starvation_ is the malady. And particularly short feeding of the doe, while, and before she has young ones; that is to say, short feeding of her _at all times_; for, if she be poor, the young ones will be good for nothing. She will _live_ being poor, but she will not, and cannot breed up fine young ones. GOATS AND EWES. 189. In some places where a cow cannot be kept, a goat may. A correspondent points out to me, that a Dorset ewe or two might be kept on a common near a cottage to give milk; and certainly this might be done very well; but I should prefer a goat, which is hardier and much more domestic. When I was in the army, in New Brunswick, where, be it observed, the snow lies on the ground seven months in the year, there were many goats that _belonged to the regiment_, and that went about with it on shipboard and every-where else. Some of them had gone through nearly the whole of the _American War_. We _never fed_ them. In summer they picked about wherever they could find grass; and in winter they lived on cabbage-leaves, turnip-peelings, potatoe-peelings, and other things flung out of the soldiers' rooms and huts. One of these goats belonged to me, and, on an average throughout the year, she gave me more than three half-pints of milk a day. I used to have the kid killed when a few days old; and, for some time, the goat would give nearly or quite, two quarts of milk a day. She was seldom dry more than three weeks in the year. 190. There is one great inconvenience belonging to goats; that is, they bark all young trees that they come near; so that, if they get into a _garden_, they destroy every thing. But there are seldom trees on commons, except such as are too large to be injured by goats; and I can see no reason against keeping a goat where a cow cannot be kept. Nothing is so hardy; nothing is so little nice as to its food. Goats will pick peelings out of the kennel and eat them. They will eat mouldy bread or biscuit; fusty hay, and almost rotten straw; furze-bushes, heath-thistles; and, indeed, what will they not eat, when they will make a hearty meal on _paper_, brown or white, printed on or not printed on, and give milk all the while! They will lie in any dog-hole. They do very well clogged, or stumped out. And, then, they are very _healthy_ things into the bargain, however closely they may be confined. When sea voyages are so stormy as to kill geese, ducks, fowls, and almost pigs, the goats are well and lively; and when a dog of no kind can keep the deck for a minute, a goat will skip about upon it as bold as brass. 191. Goats do not _ramble_ from home. They come in regularly in the evening, and if called, they come like dogs. Now, though ewes, when taken great care of, will be very gentle, and though their milk may be rather more delicate than that of the goat, the ewes must be fed with nice and clean food, and they will not do much in the milk-giving way upon a common; and, as to _feeding them_, provision must be made pretty nearly as for a cow. They will not endure _confinement_ like goats; and they are subject to numerous ailments that goats know nothing of. Then the ewes are done by the time they are about six years old; for they then lose their teeth; whereas a goat will continue to breed and to give milk in abundance for a great many years. The sheep is _frightened_ at everything, and especially at the least sound of a dog. A goat, on the contrary, will _face a dog_, and if he be not a big and courageous one, beat him off. 192. I have often wondered how it happened that none of our labourers kept goats; and I really should be glad to see the thing tried. They are pretty creatures, domestic as a dog, will stand and watch, as a dog does, for a crumb of bread, as you are eating; give you no trouble in the milking; and I cannot help being of opinion, that it might be of great use to introduce them amongst our labourers. CANDLES AND RUSHES. 193. We are not permitted to make candles ourselves, and if we were, they ought seldom to be used in a labourer's family. I was bred and brought up mostly by _rush-light_, and I do not find that I see less clearly than other people. Candles certainly were not much used in English labourers' dwellings in the days when they had meat dinners and Sunday coats. Potatoes and taxed candles seem to have grown into fashion together; and, perhaps, for this reason: that when the pot ceased to afford _grease_ for the rushes, the potatoe-gorger was compelled to go to the chandler's shop for light to swallow the potatoes by, else he might have devoured peeling and all! 194. My grandmother, who lived to be pretty nearly ninety, never, I believe, burnt a candle in her house in her life. I know that I never saw one there, and she, in a great measure, brought me up. She used to get the meadow-rushes, such as they tie the hop-shoots to the poles with. She cut them when they had attained their full substance, but were still _green_. The rush at this age, consists of a body of _pith_ with a green _skin_ on it. You cut off both ends of the rush, and leave the prime part, which, on an average, may be about a foot and a half long. Then you take off all the green skin, except for about a fifth part of the way round the pith. Thus it is a piece of pith all but a little strip of skin in one part all the way up, which, observe, is necessary to hold the pith together all the way along. 195. The rushes being thus prepared, the _grease_ is melted, and put in a melted state into something that is as _long_ as the rushes are. The rushes are put into the grease; soaked in it sufficiently; then taken out and laid in a bit of bark taken from a young tree, so as not to be too large. This bark is fixed up against the wall by a couple of straps put round it; and there it hangs for the purpose of holding the rushes. 196. The rushes are carried about _in the hand_; but to sit by, to work by, or to go to bed by, they are fixed in _stands_ made for the purpose, some of which are high to stand on the ground, and some low, to stand on a table. These stands have an iron port something like a pair of _pliers_ to hold the rush in, and the rush is shifted forward from time to time, as it burns down to the thing that holds it. 197. Now these rushes give a _better light_ than a common small dip-candle; and they cost next to nothing, though the labourer may with them have as much light as he pleases, and though, without them he must sit the far greater part of the winter evenings _in the dark_, even if he expend _fifteen shillings_ a year in candles. You may do any sort of work by this light; and, if reading be your taste, you may read the foul libels, the lies and abuse, which are circulated gratis about _me_ by the "Society for promoting _Christian Knowledge_," as well by rush-light, as you can by the light of taxed candles; and, at any rate, you would have one evil less; for to be deceived and to pay a tax for the deception are a little too much for even modern loyalty openly to demand. MUSTARD. 198. Why _buy_ this, when you can _grow_ it in your garden? The stuff you buy is half _drugs_; and is injurious to health. A _yard square_ of ground, sown with common Mustard, the crop of which you would grind for use, in a little mustard-mill, as you wanted it, would save you _some money_, and probably save your _life_. Your mustard would look _brown_ instead of _yellow_; but the former colour is as good as the latter: and, as to the _taste_, the _real_ mustard has certainly a much better than that of the _drugs_ and flour which go under the name of mustard. Let any one _try_ it, and I am sure he will never use the drugs again. The drugs, if you take them freely, leave _a burning at the pit of your stomach_, which the real mustard does not. DRESS, HOUSEHOLD GOODS, AND FUEL. 199. In Paragraph 152, I said, I think, enough to caution you, the English labourer, against the taste, now too prevalent, for _fine_ and _flimsy_ dress. It was, for hundreds of years, amongst the characteristics of the English people, that their taste was, in all matters, for things solid, sound, and good; for the _useful_, and _decent_, the _cleanly_ in dress, and not for the _showy_. Let us hope that this may be the taste again; and let us, my friends, fear no troubles, no perils, that may be necessary to produce a return of that taste, accompanied with full bellies and warm backs to the labouring classes. 200. In _household goods_, the _warm_, the _strong_, the _durable_, ought always to be kept in view. Oak tables, bedsteads and stools, chairs of oak or of yew tree, and never a bit of miserable deal board. Things of this sort ought to last several lifetimes. A labourer ought to inherit from his great grandfather something besides his toil. As to bedding, and other things of that sort, all ought to be good in their nature, of a durable quality, and plain in their colour and form. The plates, dishes, mugs, and things of that kind, should be of _pewter_, or even of wood. Any-thing is better than crockery-ware. Bottles to carry a-field should be of wood. Formerly, nobody but the gypsies and mumpers, that went a hop-picking in the season, carried glass or earthen bottles. As to _glass_ of any sort, I do not know what business it has in any man's house, unless he be rich enough to live on his means. It pays a tax, in many cases, to the amount of two-thirds of its cost. In short, when a house is once furnished with sufficient goods, there ought to be no renewal of hardly any part of them wanted for half an age, except in case of destruction by fire. Good management in this way leaves the man's wages to provide an _abundance of good food and good raiment_; and these are the things that make happy families; these are the things that make a good, kind, sincere, and brave people; not little pamphlets about "loyalty" and "content." A good man will be contented fast enough, if he be fed and clad sufficiently; but if a man be not well fed and clad, he is a base wretch to be contented. 201. _Fuel_ should be, if possible, provided in summer, or at least some of it. Turf and peat must be got in summer, and some _wood_ may. In the woodland countries, the next winter ought to be thought of in _June_, when people hardly know what to do with the fuelwood; and something should, if possible, be saved in the bark-harvest to get a part of the fuel for the next winter. Fire is a capital article. To have no fire, or a bad fire, to sit by, is a most dismal thing. In such a state man and wife must be something out of the common way to be in good humour with each other, to say nothing of colds and other ailments which are the natural consequence of such misery. If we suppose the great Creator to condescend to survey his works in detail, what object can be so pleasing to him as that of the labourer, after his return from the toils of a cold winter day, sitting with his wife and children round a cheerful fire, while the wind whistles in the chimney and the rain pelts the roof? But, of all God's creation, what is so miserable to behold or to think of as a wretched, half-starved family creeping to their nest of flocks or straw, there to lie shivering, till sent forth by the fear of absolutely expiring from want? HOPS. 202. I treated of them before; but before I conclude this little Work, it is necessary to speak of them again. I made a mistake as to the _tax_ on the Hops. The positive tax is 2_d._ a pound, and I (in former editions) stated it at 4_d._ However, in all such cases, there falls upon the _consumer_ the _expenses_ attending the paying of the tax. That is to say, the cost of interest of capital in the grower who pays the tax, and who must pay for it, whether his hops be cheap or dear. Then the _trouble_ it gives him, and the rules he is compelled to obey in the drying and bagging, and which cause him great _expense_. So that the tax on hops of our own English growth, may _now be reckoned_ to cost the _consumer_ about 3-1/4_d._ a pound. YEAST. 203. Yeast is a great thing in domestic management. I have once before published a receipt for making _yeast-cakes_, I will do it again here. 204. In Long Island they make _yeast-cakes_. A parcel of these cakes is made _once a year_. That is often enough. And, when you bake, you take one of these cakes (or more according to the bulk of the batch) and with them raise your bread. The very best bread I ever ate in my life was lightened with these cakes. 205. The materials for a good batch of cakes are as follows:--3 ounces of good fresh Hops; 3-1/2 pounds of Rye Flour; 7 pounds of Indian Corn Meal; and one Gallon of Water.--Rub the hops, so as to separate them. Put them into the water, which is to be boiling at the time. Let them boil half an hour. Then strain the liquor through a fine sieve into an earthen vessel. While the liquor is hot, put in the Rye-Flour; stirring the liquor well, and quickly, as the Rye-Flour goes into it. The day after, when it is working, put in the Indian Meal, stirring it well as it goes in. Before the Indian Meal be all in, the mess will be very stiff; and it will, in fact, be _dough_, very much of the consistence of the dough that bread is made of.--Take this dough; knead it well, as you would for _pie-crust_. Roll it out with a rolling-pin, as you roll out pie-crust, to the thickness of about a third of an inch. When you have it (or a part of it at a time) rolled out, cut it up into cakes with a tumbler glass turned upside down, or with something else that will answer the same purpose. Take a clean board (a _tin_ may be better) and put the cakes _to dry in the sun_. Turn them every day; let them receive _no wet_; and they will become as hard as ship biscuit. Put them into a bag, or box, and keep them in a place _perfectly free from damp_. When you bake, take two cakes, of the thickness above-mentioned, and about 3 inches in diameter; put them into hot water, _over-night_, having cracked them first. Let the vessel containing them stand near the fire-place all night. They will dissolve by the morning, and then you use them in setting your sponge (as it is called) precisely as you would use the yeast of beer. 206. There are _two things_ which may be considered by the reader as obstacles. FIRST, where are _we_ to get the _Indian Meal_? Indian Meal is used merely because it is of a _less adhesive_ nature than that of wheat. White pea-meal, or even barley-meal, would do just as well. But SECOND, to _dry_ the cakes, to make them (and _quickly_ too, mind) _as hard as ship biscuit_ (which is much harder than the timber of Scotch firs or Canada firs;) and to do this _in the sun_ (for it must not be _fire_,) where are we, in this climate, to _get the sun_? In 1816 we could not; for, that year, melons rotted in the _glazed frames_ and never ripened. But, in every nine summers out of ten, we have in June, in July, or in August, _a fortnight of hot sun_, and that is enough. Nature has not given us a _peach-climate_; but we _get peaches_. The cakes, when put in the sun, may have a _glass sash_, or a _hand-light_, put over them. This would make their birth _hotter_ than that of the hottest open-air situation in America. In short to a farmer's wife, or any good housewife, all the little difficulties to the attainment of such an object would appear as nothing. The _will_ only is required; and, if there be not that, it is useless to think of the attempt. SOWING SWEDISH TURNIP SEED. 207. It is necessary to be a little more full than I have been before as to the _manner of sowing_ this seed; and I shall make my directions such as to be applied on a small or a large scale.--Those that want to transplant on a large scale will, of course, as to the other parts of the business, refer to my larger work.--It is to get plants for _transplanting_ that I mean to sow the Swedish Turnip Seed. The _time_ for sowing must depend a little upon the nature of the situation and soil. In the north of England, perhaps early in April may be best; but, in any of these southern counties, any time after the _middle of April and before the 10th of May_, is quite early enough. The ground which is to receive the seed should be made very _fine_, and manured with wood-ashes, or with good compost well mixed with the earth. Dung is not so good; for it breeds the fly more; or, at least, I think so. The seed should be sown in drills _an inch deep_, made as pointed out under the head of _Sowing_ in my book on _Gardening_. When deposited in the drills _evenly_ but _not thickly_, the ground should be raked across the drills, so as to fill them up; and then the whole of the ground should be _trodden hard_, with shoes not nailed, and not very thick in the sole. The ground should be laid out in four-feet _beds_ for the reasons mentioned in the "_Gardener_." When the seeds come up, thin the plants to two inches apart as soon as you think them clear from the fly; for, if left thicker, they injure each other even in this infant state. Hoe frequently between the rows even before thinning the plants; and when they are thinned, hoe well and frequently between them; for this has a tendency to make them strong; and the hoeing _before thinning_ helps to keep off the fly. A rod of ground, the rows being eight inches apart, and plants two inches apart in the row, will contain about _two thousand two hundred_ plants. An acre in rows four feet apart and the plants a foot apart in the row, will take about ten thousand four hundred and sixty plants. So that to transplant an acre, you must sow about _five rods of ground_. The plants should be kept very clean; and, by the last week in June, or first in July, you put them out. I have put them out (in England) at all times between 7th of June and middle of August. The first is certainly earlier than I like; and the very finest I ever grew in England, and the finest I ever saw for a large piece, were transplanted on the 14th of July. But one year with another, the last week in June is the best time. For size of plants, manner of transplanting, intercultivation, preparing the land, and the rest, see "_Year's Residence in America_." No. VIII. _On the converting of English Grass, and Grain Plants cut green, into Straw, for the purpose of making Plat for Hats and Bonnets._ KENSINGTON, MAY 30, 1823. 208. The foregoing Numbers have treated, chiefly, of the management of the affairs of a labourer's family, and more particularly of the mode of disposing of the money earned by the labour of the family. The present Number will point out what I hope may become _an advantageous kind of labour_. All along I have proceeded upon the supposition, that the wife and children of the labourer be, as constantly as possible, employed _in work of some sort or other_. The cutting, the bleaching, the sorting, and the platting of straw, seem to be, of all employments, the best suited to the wives and children of country labourers; and the discovery which I have made, as to the means of obtaining the necessary materials, will enable them to enter at once upon that employment. 209. Before I proceed to give my directions relative to the performance of this sort of labour, I shall give a sort of history of the discovery to which I have just alluded. 210. The practice of making hats, bonnets, and other things, of _straw_, is perhaps of very ancient date; but not to waste time in fruitless inquiries, it is very well known that, for many years past, straw coverings for the head have been greatly in use in England, in America, and, indeed, in almost all the countries that we know much of. In this country the manufacture was, only a few years ago, _very flourishing_; but it has now greatly declined, and has left in poverty and misery those whom it once well fed and clothed. 211. The cause of this change has been, the importation of the straw hats and bonnets from _Italy_, greatly superior, in durability and beauty, to those made in England. The plat made in England was made of the straw of _ripened grain_. It was, in general, _split_; but the main circumstance was, that it was made of the straw of _ripened grain_; while the Italian plat was made of the straw of grain, or grass, _cut green_. Now, the straw of ripened grain or grass is brittle; or, rather, rotten. It _dies_ while standing, and, in point of toughness, the difference between it and straw from plants cut green is much about the same as the difference between a stick that has _died on the tree_, and one that has been _cut from the tree_. But besides the difference in point of toughness, strength, and durability, there was the difference in beauty. The colour of the Italian plat was better; the plat was brighter; and the Indian straws, being _small whole_ straws, instead of small straws made by the splitting of large ones, here was a _roundness_ in them, that gave _light and shade_ to the plat, which could not be given by our flat bits of straw. 212. It seems odd, that nobody should have set to work to find out how the Italians _came_ by this fine straw. The importation of these Italian articles was chiefly from the port of LEGHORN; and therefore the bonnets imported were called _Leghorn Bonnets_. The straw manufacturers in this country seem to have made no effort to resist this invasion from Leghorn. And, which is very curious, the Leghorn _straw_ has now began to be imported, and to be _platted in this country_. So that we had _hands_ to plat as well as the Italians. All that we wanted was the _same kind of straw_ that the Italians had: and it is truly wonderful that these importations from Leghorn should have gone on increasing year after year, and our domestic manufacture dwindling away at a like pace, without there having been any inquiry relative to the way in which the Italians _got their straw_! Strange, that we should have imported even _straw_ from Italy, without inquiring whether similar straw could not be got in England! There really seems to have been an opinion, that England could no more produce this straw than it could produce the sugar-cane. 213. Things were in this state, when in 1821, a Miss WOODHOUSE, a farmer's daughter in CONNECTICUT, sent a straw-bonnet of her own making to the _Society of Arts_ in London. This bonnet, superior in fineness and beauty to anything of the kind that had come from Leghorn, the maker stated to consist of a sort of grass of which she sent along with the bonnet some of the _seeds_. The question was, then, would these precious seeds _grow and produce plants in perfection in England_? A large quantity of the seed had not been sent: and it was therefore, by a member of the Society, thought desirable to get, with as little delay as possible, a considerable quantity of the seed. 214. It was in this stage of the affair that my attention was called to it. The member just alluded to applied to me to get the seed from America. I was of opinion that there could be no sort of grass in Connecticut that would not, and that _did not_, grow and flourish in England. My son JAMES, who was then at New-York, had instructions from me, in June 1821, to go to Miss WOODHOUSE, and to send me home an account of the matter. In September, the same year, I heard from him, who sent me an account of the cutting and bleaching, and also a specimen of the plat and grass of Connecticut. Miss WOODHOUSE had told the Society of Arts, that the grass used was the _Poa Pratensis_. This is the _smooth-stalked meadow-grass_. So that it was quite useless to send for _seed_. It was clear, that we had _grass enough_ in England, if we could but make it into straw as handsome as that of Italy. 215. Upon my publishing an account of what had taken place with regard to the American Bonnet, _an importer of Italian straw_ applied to me to know whether I would _undertake to import American straw_. He was in the habit of importing Italian straw, and of having it platted in this country; but having seen the bonnet of Miss WOODHOUSE, he was anxious to get the American straw. This gentleman showed me some Italian straw which he had imported, and as the seed heads were not on, I could not see what plant it was. The gentleman who showed the straw to me, told me (and, doubtless, he believed) that the plant was one that _would not grow in England_. I however, who looked at the straw with the eyes of a farmer, perceived that it consisted of dry _oat_, _wheat_, and _rye_ plants, and of _Bennet_ and other _common grass_ plants. 216. This quite settled the point of _growth in England_. It was now certain that we had the plants in abundance; and the only question that remained to be determined was, Had we SUN to give to those plants the beautiful colour which the American and Italian straw had? If that colour were to be obtained by _art_, by any chemical applications, we could obtain it as easily as the Americans or the Italians; but, if it were the gift of the SUN solely, here might be a difficulty impossible for us to overcome. My experiments have proved that the fear of such difficulty was wholly groundless. 217. It was late in September 1821 that I obtained this knowledge, as to the kind of plants that produced the foreign straw. I could, at that time of the year, do nothing in the way of removing my doubts as to the _powers of our Sun_ in the bleaching of grass; but I resolved to do this when the proper season for bleaching should return. Accordingly, when the next month of _June_ came, I went into the country for the purpose. I made my experiments, and, in short, I proved to demonstration, that we had not only the _plants_, but the _sun_ also, necessary for the making of straw, yielding in no respect to that of America or of Italy. I think that, upon the whole, we have greatly the advantage of those countries; for grass is more abundant in this country than in any other. It flourishes here more than in any other country. It is here in a greater variety of sorts; and for _fineness_ in point of size, there is no part of the world which can equal what might be obtained from some of our _downs_, merely by keeping the land ungrazed till the month of July. 218. When I had obtained the straw, I got some of it made into plat. One piece of this plat was equal in point of colour, and superior in point of fineness, even to the plat of the bonnet, of Miss WOODHOUSE. It seemed, therefore, now to be necessary to do nothing more than to _make all this well known to the country_. As the SOCIETY OF ARTS had interested itself in the matter, and as I heard that, through its laudable zeal, several _sowings of the foreign grass-seed_ had been made in England, I communicated an account of my experiments to that Society. The first communication was made by me on the 19th of February last, when I sent to the Society, specimens of my straw and also of the plat. Some time after this I attended a committee of the Society on the subject, and gave them a verbal account of the way in which I had gone to work. 219. The committee had, before this, given some of my straw to certain _manufacturers_ of plat, in order to see what it would produce. These manufacturers, with the exception of one, brought _such_ specimens of plat as to induce, at first sight, any one to believe that it was nonsense to think of bringing the thing to any degree of perfection! But, was it _possible_ to believe this? Was it possible to believe that it could _answer_ to import straw from Italy, to pay a twenty per cent. duty on that straw, and to have it platted here; and that it would _not answer_ to turn into plat straw of just the same sort grown in England? It was impossible to believe _this_; but possible enough to believe, that persons now making profit by Italian straw, or plat, or bonnets, would rather that English straw should come to shut out the Italian and to put an end to the Leghorn trade. 220. In order to show the character of the reports of those manufacturers, I sent some parcels of straw into Hertfordshire, and got back, in the course of five days, _fifteen specimens of plat_. These I sent to the Society of Arts on the 3d of April; and I here insert a copy of the letter which accompanied them. TO THE SECRETARY OF THE SOCIETY OF ARTS. KENSINGTON, April 3, 1823. SIR,--With this letter I send you sixteen specimens of plat, and also eight parcels of straw, in order to show the sorts that the plat is made out of. The numbers of the plat correspond with those of the straw; but each parcel of straw has two numbers attached to it, except in the case of the first number, which is the _wheat straw_. Of each kind of straw a parcel of the _stoutest_ and a parcel of the _smallest_ were sent to be platted; so that each parcel of the straw now sent, except that of the wheat, refers to _two of the pieces of plat_. For instance, 2 and 3 of the plat is of the sort of straw marked 2 and 3; 4 and 12 of the plat is of the sort of straw marked 4 and 12; and so on. These parcels of straw are sent in order that you may know the _kind_ of straw, or rather, of grass, from which the several pieces of plat have been made. This is very _material_; because it is by those parcels of straw that the _kinds of grass_ are to be known. The piece of plat No. 16 is _American_; all the rest are from my straw. You will see, that 15 is the _finest plat of all_. No. 7 is from the _stout_ straws of the same _kind_ as No. 15. By looking at the parcel of straw Nos. 7 and 15, you will see what sort of grass this is. The next, in point of beauty and fineness combined, are the pieces Nos. 13 and 8; and by looking at the parcel of straw, Nos. 13 and 8, you will see what sort of grass that is. Next comes 10 and 5, which are very beautiful too; and the sort of grass, you will see, is the _common Bennet_. The wheat, you see, is too coarse; and the rest of the sorts are either _too hard_ or _too brittle_. I beg you to look at Nos. 10 and 5. Those appear to me to be the thing to supplant the Leghorn. The colour is good, the straws _work well_, they afford a great _variety of sizes_, and they come from the common _Bennet grass_, which grows all over the kingdom, which is cultivated in all our fields, which is in bloom in the fair month of June, which may be grown as fine or as coarse as we please, and ten acres of which would, I dare say, make ten thousand bonnets. However, 7 and 15, and 8 and 13, are very good; and they are to be got in every part of the kingdom. As to _platters_, it is to be too childish to believe that they are not to be got, when I could send off these straws, and get back the plat, in the course of five days. Far _better work_ than this would have been obtained if I could have gone on the errand myself. What then will people not do, who regularly undertake the business for their livelihood? I will, as soon as possible, send you an account of the manner in which I went to work with the grass. The card or plat, which I sent you some time ago, you will be so good as to give me back again some time; because I have now not a bit of the American plat left. I am, Sir, your most humble and most obedient servant, WM. COBBETT. 221. I should observe, that these written communications, of mine to the Society, _belong_, in fact, to it, and will be published in its PROCEEDINGS, a volume of which comes out every year; but, in this case, there would have been _a year lost_ to those who may act in consequence of these communications being made public. The grass is to be got, in great quantities and of the best sorts, only in _June_ and _July_; and the Society's volume does not come out till _December_. The Society has, therefore, given its consent to the making of the communications public through the means of this little work of mine. 222. Having shown what sort of plat could be produced from English grass-straw, I next communicated to the Society an account of the method which I pursued in the cutting and bleaching of the grass. The letter in which I did this I shall here insert a copy of, before I proceed further. In the original the paragraphs were _numbered_ from _one_ to _seventeen_: they are here marked by _letters_, in order to avoid confusion, the paragraphs of the work itself being marked by _numbers_. TO THE SECRETARY OF THE SOCIETY OF ARTS. KENSINGTON, April 14, 1823. A.--SIR,--Agreeably to your request, I now communicate to you a statement of those particulars which you wished to possess, relative to the specimens of straw and of plat which I have at different times sent to you for the inspection of the Society. B.--That my statement may not come too abruptly upon those members of the Society who have not had an opportunity of witnessing the progress of this interesting inquiry, I will take a short review of the circumstances which led to the making of my experiments. C.--In the month of June, 1821, a gentleman, a member of the Society, informed me, by letter, that a Miss WOODHOUSE, a farmer's daughter, of Weathersfield, in Connecticut, had transmitted to the Society a straw-bonnet of very fine materials and manufacture; that this bonnet (according to her account) was made from the straw of a sort of grass called _poa pratensis_; that it seemed to be unknown whether the same grass would grow in England; that it was desirable to ascertain whether this grass would grow in England; that, at all events, it was desirable to get from America some of the seed of this grass; and that, for this purpose, my informant, knowing that I had a son in America; addressed himself to me, it being his opinion that, if materials similar to those used by Miss WOODHOUSE could by any means be _grown in England_, the benefit to the nation must be considerable. D.--In consequence of this application, I wrote to my son James, (then at New York,) directing him to do what he was able in order to cause success to the undertaking. On the receipt of my letter, in July, he went from New York to Weathersfield, (about a hundred and twenty miles;) saw Miss WOODHOUSE; made the necessary inquiries; obtained a specimen of the grass, and also of the plat, which other persons at Weathersfield, as well as Miss WOODHOUSE, were in the habit of making; and having acquired the necessary information as to cutting the grass and bleaching the straw, he transmitted to me an account of the matter; which account, together with his specimens of grass and plat, I received in the month of September. E.--I was now, when I came to see the specimen of grass, convinced that Miss WOODHOUSE'S materials could be _grown in England_; a conviction which, if it had not been complete at once, would have been made complete immediately afterwards by the sight of a bunch of bonnet-straw _imported from Leghorn_, which straw was shown to me by the importer, and which I found to be that of two or three sorts of our common grass, and of oats, wheat, and rye. F.--That the grass, or plants, could be _grown in England_ was, therefore, now certain, and indeed that they were, in point of commonness, next to the earth itself. But before the grass could, with propriety, be called materials for bonnet-making, there was the _bleaching_ to be performed; and it was by no means certain that this could be accomplished by means of an _English sun_, the difference between which and that of Italy or Connecticut was well known to be very great. G.--My experiments have, I presume, completely removed this doubt. I think that the straw produced by me to the Society, and also some of the pieces of plat, are of a colour which no straw or plat can surpass. All that remains, therefore, is for me to give an account of the manner in which I cut and bleached the grass which I have submitted to the Society in the state of straw. H.--First, as to the _season_ of the year, all the straw, except that of one sort of couch-grass, and the long coppice-grass, which two were got in Sussex, were got from grass cut in Hertfordshire on the 21st of June. A grass head-land, in a wheat-field, had been mowed during the forepart of the day, and in the afternoon I went and took a handful here and a handful there out of the swaths. When I had collected as much as I could well carry, I took it to my friend's house, and proceeded to prepare it for bleaching, according to the information sent me from America by my son; that is to say, I put my grass into a shallow tub, put boiling water upon it until it was covered by the water, let it remain in that state for ten minutes, then took it out, and laid it very thinly on a closely-mowed lawn in a garden. But I should observe, that, before I put the grass into the tub, I tied it up in small bundles, or sheaves, each bundle being about six inches through at the butt-end. This was necessary, in order to be able to take the grass, at the end of ten minutes, out of the water, without throwing it into a confused mixture as to tops and tails. Being tied up in little bundles, I could easily, with a prong, take it out of the hot water. The bundles were put into a large wicker basket, carried to the lawn in the garden, and there taken out, one by one, and laid in swaths as before-mentioned. I.--It was laid _very thinly_; almost might I say, that no stalk of grass covered another. The swaths were _turned_ once a day. The bleaching was completed at the end of _seven days_ from time of scalding and laying out. June is a fine month. The grass was, as it happened, cut on the _longest day in the year_; and the weather was remarkably fine and clear. But the grass which I afterwards cut in Sussex, was cut in the first week in August; and as to the weather my journal speaks thus:-- August, 1822. 2d.--Thunder and rain.--_Began cutting grass._ 3d.--Beautiful day. 4th.--Fine day. 5th.--Cloudy day--_Began scalding grass, and laying it out._ 6th.--Cloudy greater part of the day. 7th.--Same weather. 8th.--Cloudy and rather misty.--_Finished cutting grass._ 9th.--Dry but cloudy. 10th.--Very close and hot.--_Packed up part of the grass._ 11th, 12th, 13th, and 14th.--Same weather. 15th.--Hot and clear.--_Finished packing the grass._ K.--The grass cut in Sussex was as _well bleached_ as that cut in Hertfordshire; so that it is evident that we never can have a summer that will not afford sun sufficient for this business. L.--The part of the straw used for platting; that part of the stalk which is _above the upper joint_; that part which is between the _upper joint_ and the seed-branches. This part is taken out, and the rest of the straw thrown away. But the _whole plant must be cut and bleached_; because, if you were to take off, _when green_, the part above described, that part would wither up next to nothing. This part must die in company with the whole plants, and be separated from the other parts after the bleaching has been performed. M.--The time of cutting must vary with the seasons, the situation, and the sort of grass. The grass which I got in Hertfordshire, than which nothing can, I think, be more beautiful, was, when cut, generally in _bloom_; just in bloom. The _wheat_ was in full bloom; so that a good time for getting grass may be considered to be that when the _wheat is in bloom_. When I cut the grass in Sussex, the _wheat was ripe_, for reaping had begun; but that grass is of a very backward sort, and, besides, grew in the _shade_ amongst coppice-wood and under trees, which stood pretty thick. N.--As to the sorts of grass, I have to observe generally, that in proportion as the colour of the grass is _deep_; that is to say, getting further from the _yellow_, and nearer to the _blue_, it is of a deep and _dead yellow_ when it becomes straw. Those kinds of grass are best which are, in point of colour, nearest to that of wheat, which is a fresh pale green. Another thing is, the quality of the straw as to _pliancy_ and _toughness_. Experience must be our guide here. I had not time to make a large collection of sorts; but those which I have sent to you contain three sorts which are proved to be good. In my letter of the 3d instant I sent you _sixteen_ pieces of plat and _eight_ bunches of straw, having the seed heads on, in order to show the sorts of grass. The sixteenth piece of plat was American. The first piece was from _wheat_ cut and bleached by me; the rest from _grass_ cut and bleached by me. I will here, for fear of mistake, give a list of the names of the several sorts of grass, the straw of which was sent with my letter of the 3d instant, referring to the numbers, as placed on the plat and on the bunches of straw. PIECES BUNCHES SORTS OF PLAT. OF STRAW. OF GRASS. No 1.-- No. 1. --Wheat. 2.} { Melica Cærulea; or, Purple Melica 3.} 2 and 3 { Grass. 4.} { Agrostis Stolonifera; or, Fiorin Grass; 12.} 4 and 12 { that is to say, one sort of Couch-grass. 5.} 10.} 5 and 10 Lolium Perenne; or Ray-grass. 6.} { Avena Flavescens; or, Yellow Oat 11.} 6 and 11 { grass. 7.} { Cynosurus Cristatus; or Crested 15.} 7 and 15 { Dog's-tail grass. 8.} { Anthoxanthum Odoratum; or, Sweet 13.} 8 and 13 { scented Vernal grass. 9.} { Agrostis Canina; or, Brown Bent 14.} 9 and 14 { grass. O.--These names are those given at the Botanical Garden _at Kew_. But the same English names are not in the country given to these sorts of grass. The _Fiorin grass_, the _Yellow Oat-grass_, and the _Brown-Bent_, are all called _couch-grass_; except that the latter is, in Sussex, called _Red Robin_. It is the native grass of the _plains_ of Long Island; and they call it _Red Top_. The _Ray-grass_ is the common field grass, which is, all over the kingdom, sown with clover. The farmers, in a great part of the kingdom, call it _Bent_, or _Bennett_, grass; and sometimes it is galled _Darnel-grass_. The _Crested Dog's-tail_ goes, in Sussex, by the name of _Hendonbent_; for what reason I know not. The _sweet-scented Vernal-grass_ I have never, amongst the farmers, heard any name for. Miss WOODHOUSE'S grass appears, from the _plants_ that I saw in the Adelphi, to be one of the sorts of Couch-grass. Indeed, I am sure that it is a Couch-grass, if the plants I there saw came from her seed. My son, who went into Connecticut, who saw the grass growing, and who sent me home a specimen of it, is now in England: he was with me when I cut the grass in Sussex; and he says that Miss WOODHOUSE'S was a Couch-grass. However, it is impossible to look at the specimens of straw and of plat which I have sent you, without being convinced that there is no want of the raw material in England. I was, after my first hearing of the subject, very soon convinced that the grass grew in England; but I had great doubts as to the capacity of our _sun_. Those doubts my own experiments have completely removed; but then I was not aware of the great effect of the _scalding_, of which, by the way, Miss WOODHOUSE had said nothing, and the knowledge of which we owe entirely to my son James' journey into Connecticut. P.--Having thus given you an account of the time and manner of cutting the grass, of the mode of cutting and bleaching; having given you the best account I am able, as to the sorts of grass to be employed in this business; and having, in my former communications, given you specimens of the plat wrought from the several sorts of straw, I might here close my letter; but as it may be useful to speak of _the expense_ of cutting and bleaching, I shall trouble you with a few words relating to it. If there were a field of _Ray-grass_, or of _Crested Dog's-tail_, or any other good sort, and nothing else growing with it, the expense of _cutting_ would be very little indeed, seeing that the _scythe_ or _reap-hook_ would do the business at a great rate. Doubtless there _will be_ such fields; but even if the grass have to be cut by the handful, my opinion is, that the expense of cutting and bleaching would not exceed _fourpence_ for straw enough to make a large bonnet. I should be willing to contract to supply straw, at this rate, for half a million of bonnets. The _scalding_ must constitute a considerable part of the expense; because there must be _fresh water_ for every parcel of grass that you put in the tub. When water has scalded one parcel of cold grass, it will not scald another parcel. Besides, the scalding draws out the _sweet matter_ of the grass, and makes the water the colour of that horrible stuff called London porter. It would be very good, by-the-by, to give to pigs. Many people give _hay-tea_ to pigs and calves; and this is _grass-tea_. To scald a large quantity, therefore would require means not usually at hand, and the scalding is an essential part of the business. Perhaps, in a large and convenient farm-house, with a good brewing copper, good fuel and water handy, four or five women might scald a wagon load in a day; and a wagon would, I think, carry straw enough (in the rough) to furnish the means of making a thousand bonnets. However, the scalding _might_ take place _in the field itself_, by means of a portable boiler, especially if water were at hand; and perhaps it would be better to carry the water to the field than to carry the grass to the farm-house, for there must be _ground to lay it out upon the moment it has been scalded_, and no ground can be so proper as the newly-mowed ground where the grass has stood. The _space_, too, must be _large_, for any considerable quantity of grass. As to all these things, however, the best and cheapest methods will soon be discovered when people set about the work with a view to profit. Q.--The Society will want nothing from me, nor from any-body else, to convince it of the importance of this matter; but I cannot, in concluding these communications to you, Sir, refrain from making an observation or two on the consequences likely to arise out of these inquiries. The manufacture is alone of considerable magnitude. Not less than about _five millions_ of persons in this kingdom have a dress which consists partly of manufactured straw; and a large part, and all the most expensive part, of the articles thus used, now come from abroad. In cases where you can get from abroad any article at _less expense than you can get it at home_, the wisdom of fabricating that article at home may be doubted. But, in this case, you get the raw material by labour performed at home, and the cost of that labour is not nearly so great as would be the cost of the mere carriage of the straw from a foreign country to this. If our own people had all plenty of employment, and that too more profitable to them and to the country than the turning of a part of our own grass into articles of dress, then it would be advisable still to import Leghorn bonnets; but the facts being the reverse, it is clear, that whatever money, or money's worth things, be sent out of the country, in exchange for Leghorn bonnets, is, while we have the raw material here for next to nothing, just so much thrown away. The Italians, it may be said, take some of our manufactures in exchange; and let us suppose, for the purpose of illustration, that they take cloth from Yorkshire. Stop the exchange between Leghorn and Yorkshire, and, does Yorkshire _lose part of its custom_? No: for though those who make the bonnets out of English grass, prevent the Leghorners from buying Yorkshire cloth, they, with the money which they now get, instead of its being got by the Leghorners, buy the Yorkshire cloth themselves; and they wear this cloth too, instead of its being worn by the people of Italy; ay, Sir, and many, now in rags, will be well clad, if the laudable object of the Society be effected. Besides this, however, why should we not _export_ the articles of this manufacture? To America we certainly should; and I should not be at all surprised if we were to export them to Leghorn itself. R.--Notwithstanding all this, however, if the manufacture were of a description to require, in order to give it success, the _collecting of the manufacturers together in great numbers_, I should, however great the wealth that it might promise, never have done any thing to promote its establishment. The contrary is happily the case: here all is not only performed _by hand_, but by hand _singly_, without any combination of hands. Here there is no power of machinery or of chemistry wanted. All is performed out in the open fields, or sitting in the cottage. There wants no coal mines and no rivers to assist; no water-powers nor powers of fire. No part of the kingdom is unfit for the business. Every-where there are grass, water, sun, and women and children's fingers; and these are all that are wanted. But, the great thing of all is this; that, to obtain the materials for the making of this article of dress, at once so gay, so useful, and in some cases so expensive, there requires not _a penny of capital_. Many of the labourers now make their own straw hats to wear in summer. Poor rotten things, made out of straw of ripened grain. With what satisfaction will they learn that straw, twenty times as durable, to say nothing of the beauty, is to be got from every hedge? In short when the people are well and clearly informed of the facts, which I have through you, Sir, had the honour to lay before the Society, it is next to impossible that the manufacture should not become general throughout the country. In every labourer's house a pot of water can be boiled. What labourer's wife cannot, in the summer months, find time to cut and bleach grass enough to give her and her children work for a part of the winter? There is no necessity for all to be _platters_. Some may cut and bleach only. Others may prepare the straw, as mentioned in paragraph L. of this letter. And doubtless, as the farmers in Hertfordshire now sell their straw to the platters, grass collectors and bleachers and preparers would do the same. So that there is scarcely any country labourer's family that might not derive some advantage from this discovery; and, while I am convinced that this consideration has been by no means over-looked by the Society, it has been, I assure you, the great consideration of all with, Sir, your most obedient and most humble Servant, WM. COBBETT. 223. In the last edition, this closing part of the work, relative to the straw plat, was not presented to the public as a thing which admitted of no alteration; but, on the contrary, it was presented to the public with the following concluding remark: "In conclusion I have to observe, that I by no means send forth this essay as containing opinions and instructions that are to undergo no alteration. I am, indeed, endeavouring to teach others; but I am myself only a learner. Experience will, doubtless, make me much more perfect in a knowledge of the several parts of the subject; and the fruit of this experience I shall be careful to communicate to the public." I now proceed to make good this promise. Experience has proved that very beautiful and very fine plat can be made of the straw of divers kinds of _grass_. But the most ample experience has also proved to us that it is to the straw of _wheat_, that we are to look for a manufacture to supplant the Leghorn. This was mentioned as a strong suspicion in my former edition of this work. And I urged my readers to sow wheat for the purpose. The fact is now proved beyond all contradiction, that the straw of wheat or rye, but particularly of wheat, is the straw for this purpose. _Finer_ plat may be made from the straw of grass than can possibly be made from the straw of wheat or rye: but the grass plat is, all of it, more or less _brittle_; and none of it has the beautiful and uniform colour of the straw of wheat. Since the last edition of this work, I have received packets of the straw _from Tuscany_, all of _wheat_; and, indeed, I am _convinced_ that no other straw is any-thing like so well calculated for the purpose. Wheat straw bleaches better than any other. It has that fine, pale, golden colour which no other straw has; it is much more simple, more pliant than any other straw; and, in short, this is the material. I did not urge in vain. A good quantity of wheat was sowed for this purpose. A great deal of it has been well harvested; and I have the pleasure to know that several hundreds of persons are now employed in the platting of straw. One more year; one more crop of wheat; and another Leghorn bonnet will never be imported in England. Some great errors have been committed in the sowing of the wheat, and in the cutting of it. I shall now, therefore, availing myself of the experience which I have gained, offer to the public some observations on the _sort of wheat_ to be sowed for this purpose; on the _season_ for sowing; on the _land_ to be used for the purpose; on the _quantity of seed_, and the _manner_ of sowing: on the _season_ for cutting; on the manner of _cutting_, _bleaching_, and _housing_; on the _platting_; on the _knitting_, and on the _pressing_. 224. The SORT OF WHEAT. The Leghorn plat is all made of the straw of the spring wheat. This spring wheat is so called by us, because it is sowed in the spring, at the same time that barley is sowed. The botanical name of it is TRITICUM �STIVUM. It is a small-grained bearded wheat. It has very fine straw; but experience has convinced me, that the little brown-grained winter wheat is just as good for the purpose. In short, any wheat will do. I have now in my possession specimens of plat made of both winter and spring wheat, and I see no difference at all. I am decidedly of opinion that the winter wheat is as good as the spring wheat for the purpose. I have plat, and I have straw both now before me, and the above is the result of my experience. 225. THE LAND PROPER FOR THE GROWING OF WHEAT. The object is to have the straw as small as we can get it. The land must not, therefore, be too rich; yet it ought not to be _very poor_. If it be, you get the straw of no length. I saw an acre this year, as beautiful as possible, sowed upon a light loam, which bore last year a fine crop of potatoes. The land ought to be perfectly clean, at any rate; so that, when the crop is taken off, the wheat straw may not be mixed with weeds and grass. 226. SEASON FOR SOWING. This will be more conveniently stated in paragraph 228. 227. QUANTITY OF SEED AND MANNER OF SOWING. When first this subject was started in 1821, I said, in the Register, that I would engage to grow as fine straw in England as the Italians could grow. I recommended then, as a first guess, _fifteen_ bushels of wheat to the acre. Since that, reflection told me that that was not quite enough. I therefore recommended _twenty_ bushels to the acre. Upon the beautiful acre which I have mentioned above, eighteen bushels, I am told, were sowed; fine and beautiful as it was, I think it would have been better if it had had twenty bushels; twenty bushels, therefore, is what I recommend. You must sow broad cast, of course, and you must take great pains to cover the seed well. It must be a good even-handed seedsman, and there must be very nice covering. 228. SEASON FOR CUTTING. Now, mind, it is fit to cut in just about one week _after the bloom has dropped_. If you examine the ear at that time, you will find the grain just beginning to be formed, and that is precisely the time to cut the wheat: The straw has then got its full substance in it. But I must now point out a very material thing. It is by no means desirable to have _all_ your wheat _fit to cut at the same time_. It is a great misfortune, indeed, so to have it. If fit to cut altogether, it ought to be cut all at the same time; for supposing you to have an acre, it will require a fortnight or three weeks to cut it and bleach it, unless you have a very great number of hands, and very great vessels to prepare water in. Therefore, if I were to have an acre of wheat for this, purpose, and were to sow all spring wheat, I would sow a twelfth part of the acre every week from the first week in March to the last week in May. If I relied partly upon winter wheat, I would sow some every month, from the latter end of September to March. If I employed the two sorts of wheat, or indeed if I employed only the spring wheat, the TRITICUM �STIVUM, I should have some wheat fit to cut in June, and some not fit to cut till September. I should be sure to have a fair chance as to the weather. And, in short, it would be next to impossible for me to fail of securing a considerable part of my crop. I beg the reader's particular attention to the contents of this paragraph. 229. MANNER OF CUTTING THE WHEAT. It is cut by a little reap-hook, close to the ground as possible. It is then tied in little sheaves, with two pieces of string, one near the butt, and the other about half-way up. This little bundle or sheaf ought to be six inches through at the butt, and no more. It ought not to be tied too tightly, lest the scalding should not be perfect. 230. MANNER OF BLEACHING. The little sheaves mentioned in the last paragraph are carried to a brewing mash, vat, or other tub. You must not put them into the tub in too large a quantity, lest the water get chilled before it get to the bottom. Pour on scalding water till you cover the whole of the little sheaves, and let the water be a foot above the top sheaves. When the sheaves have remained thus a full quarter of an hour, take them out with a prong, lay them in a clothes-basket, or upon a hurdle, and carry them to the ground where the bleaching is to be finished. This should be, if possible, a piece of grass land, where the grass is very short. Take the sheaves, and lay some of them along in a row; untie them, and lay the straw along in that row as thin as it can possibly be laid. If it were possible, no one straw ought to have another lying upon it, or across it. If the sun be clear, it will require to lie twenty-four hours thus, then to be turned, and lie twenty-four hours on the other side. If the sun be not very clear, it must lie longer. But the numerous sowings which I have mentioned will afford you so many chances, so many opportunities of having fine weather, that the risk about weather would necessarily be very small. If wet weather should come, and if your straw remain out in it any length of time, it will be spoiled; but, according to the mode of sowing above pointed out, you really could stand very little chance of losing straw by bad weather. If you had some straw out bleaching, and the weather were to appear suddenly to be about to change, the quantity that you would have out would not be large enough to prevent you from putting it under cover, and keeping it there till the weather changed. 231. HOUSING THE STRAW. When your straw is nicely bleached, gather it up, and with the same string that you used to tie it when green, tie it up again into little sheaves. Put it by in some room where there is no _damp_, and where mice and rats are not suffered to inhabit. Here it is always ready for use, and it will keep, I dare say, four or five years very well. 232. THE PLATTING. This is now so well understood that nothing need be said about the manner of doing the work. But much might be said about the measures to be pursued by land-owners, by parish officers, by farmers, and more especially by gentlemen and ladies of sense, public spirit, and benevolence of disposition. The thing will be done; the manufacture will spread itself all over this kingdom; but the exertions of those whom I have here pointed out might hasten the period of its being brought to perfection. And I beg such gentlemen and ladies to reflect on the vast importance of such manufacture, which it is impossible to cause to produce any-thing but good. One of the great misfortunes of England at this day is, that the land has had _taken away from it those employments for its women and children which were so necessary to the well-being of the agricultural labourer_. The spinning, the carding, the reeling, the knitting; these have been all taken away from the land, and given to the Lords of the Loom, the haughty lords of bands of abject slaves. But let the landholder mark how the change has operated to produce his ruin. He must have the labouring MAN and the labouring BOY; but, alas! he cannot have these, without having the man's wife, and the boy's mother, and little sisters and brothers. Even Nature herself says, that he shall have the wife and little children, or that he shall not have the man and the boy. But the Lords of the Loom, the crabbed-voiced, hard-favoured, hard-hearted, puffed-up, insolent, savage and bloody wretches of the North have, assisted by a blind and greedy Government, taken all the employment away from the agricultural women and children. This manufacture of Straw will form one little article of employment for these persons. It sets at defiance all the hatching and scheming of all the tyrannical wretches who cause the poor little creatures to die in their factories, heated to eighty-four degrees. There will need no inventions of WATT; none of your horse powers, nor water powers; no murdering of one set of wretches in the coal mines, to bring up the means of murdering another set of wretches in the factories, by the heat produced from those coals; none of these are wanted to carry on this manufactory. It wants no _combination_ laws; none of the inventions of the hard-hearted wretches of the North. 233. THE KNITTING. Upon this subject, I have only to congratulate my readers that there are great numbers of English women who can now knit, plat together, better than those famous Jewesses of whom we were told. 234. THE PRESSING. Bonnets and hats are pressed after they are made. I am told that a proper press costs pretty nearly a hundred pounds; but, then, that it will do prodigious deal of business. I would recommend to our friends in the country to teach as many children as they can to make the plat. The plat will be knitted in London, and in other considerable towns, by persons to whom it will be sold. It appears to me, at least, that this will be the course that the thing will take. However, we must leave this to time; and here I conclude my observations upon a subject which is deeply interesting to myself, and which the public in general deem to be of great importance. 235. POSTSCRIPT on _brewing_.--I think it right to say here, that, ever since I published the instructions for brewing by copper and by wooden utensils, the beer at _my own house_ has always been brewed precisely agreeable to the instructions contained in this book; and I have to add, that I never have had such good beer in my house in all my lifetime, as since I have followed that mode of brewing. My table-beer, as well as my ale, is always as clear as wine. I have had hundreds and hundreds of quarters of malt brewed into beer in my house. My people could always make it strong enough and sweet enough; but never, except by accident, could they make it CLEAR. Now I never have any that is not clear. And yet my utensils are all very small; and my brewers are sometimes one labouring man, and sometimes another. A man wants showing how to brew the first time. I should suppose that we use, in my house, about seven hundred gallons of beer every year, taking both sorts together; and I can positively assert, that there has not been one drop of bad beer, and indeed none which has not been most excellent, in my house, during the last two years, I think it is, since I began using the utensils, and in the manner named in this book. ICE-HOUSES. 236. First begging the reader to read again paragraph 149, I proceed here, in compliance with numerous requests to that effect, to describe, as clearly as I can, the manner of constructing the sort of Ice-houses therein mentioned. In England, these receptacles of frozen water are, generally, _under ground_, and always, if possible, under the _shade of trees_, the opinion being, that the _main_ thing, if not the _only_ thing, is to keep away _the heat_. The heat is to be kept away certainly; but _moisture_ is the great enemy of _Ice_; and how is this to be kept away either _under ground_, or under the shade of trees? Abundant experience has proved, that no thickness of _wall_, that no cement of any kind, will effectually resist _moisture_. Drops will, at times, be seen hanging on the under side of an arch of any thickness, and made of any materials, if it have earth over it, and even when it has the floor of a house over it; and wherever the moisture enters, the ice will quickly melt. 237. Ice-houses should therefore be, in all their parts, _as dry_ as possible: and they should be so constructed, and the ice so deposited in them, as to ensure _the running away of the meltings_ as quickly as possible, whenever such meltings come. Any-thing in way of drains or gutters, is too slow in its effect; and therefore there must be something that will not suffer the water proceeding from any melting, to remain an instant. 238. In the first place, then, the ice-house should stand in a place quite open to the _sun and air_; for whoever has travelled even but a few miles (having eyes in his head) need not be told how long that part of a road from which the sun and wind are excluded by trees, or hedges, or by any-thing else, will remain wet, or at least damp, after the rest of the road is even in a state to send up dust. 239. The next thing is to protect the ice against wet, or damp, from _beneath_. It should, therefore, stand on some spot _from which water would run in every direction_; and if the natural ground presents no such spot, it is no very great job to _make it_. 240. Then come the _materials_ of which the house is to consist. These, for the reasons before-mentioned, must not be bricks, stones, mortar, nor earth; for these are all affected by the atmosphere; they will become _damp_ at certain times, and _dampness_ is the great destroyer of ice. The materials are _wood_ and _straw_. Wood will not do; for, though not liable to become damp, it imbibes _heat_ fast enough; and, besides, it cannot be so put together as to shut out air sufficiently. Straw is wholly free from the quality of becoming damp, except from water actually put upon it; and it can, at the same time, be placed on a roof, and on sides, to such a degree of thickness as to exclude the air in a manner the most perfect. The ice-house ought, therefore, to be made of _posts, plates, rafters, laths, and straw_. The best form is the _circular_; and the house, when made, appears as I have endeavoured to describe it in _Fig. 3_ of the plate. 241. FIG. 1, _a_, is the centre of a circle, the diameter of which is ten feet, and at this centre you put up a post to stand fifteen feet above the level of the ground, which post ought to be about nine inches through at the bottom, and not a great deal smaller at the top. Great care must be taken that this post be _perfectly perpendicular_; for, if it be not, the whole building will be awry. 242. _b b b_ are fifteen posts, nine feet high, and six inches through at the bottom, without much tapering towards the top. These posts stand about two feet apart, reckoning from centre of post to centre of post, which leaves between each two a space of eighteen inches, _c c c c_ are fifty-four posts, five feet high, and five inches through at the bottom, without much tapering towards the top. These posts stand about two feet apart, from centre of post to centre of post, which leaves between each two a space of nineteen inches. The space between these two rows of posts is four feet in width, and, as will be presently seen, is to contain _a wall of straw_. 243. _e_ is a passage through this wall; _d_ is the outside door of the passage; _f_ is the inside door; and the inner circle, of which _a_ is the centre, is the place in which the ice is to be deposited. 244. Well, then, we have now got _the posts_ up; and, before we talk of the _roof_ of the house, or of the _bed_ for the ice, it will be best to speak about the making of the _wall_. It is to be made of _straw_, wheat-straw, or rye-straw, with no rubbish in it, and made very smooth by the hand as it is put in. You lay it _in very closely_ and very smoothly, so that if the wall were cut across, as at _g g_, in FIG. 2 (which FIG. 2 represents _the whole building cut down through the middle_, omitting the centre post,) the ends of the straws would present a compact face as they do after a cut of a chaff-cutter. But there requires something _to keep the straw from bulging out between the posts_. Little stakes as big as your _wrist_ will answer this purpose. Drive them into the ground, and fasten, at top, to the _plates_, of which I am now to speak. The plates are pieces of wood which go all round both the circles, and are _nailed on upon the tops of the posts_. Their main business is to receive and sustain the _lower ends of the rafters_, as at _m m_ and _n n_ in FIG. 2. But to the plates also the _stakes_ just mentioned must be fastened at top. Thus, then, there will be this space of four feet wide, having, on each side of it, a row of posts and stakes, not more than about six inches from each other, to hold up, and to keep in its place, this wall of straw. [Illustration: _Fig. 1_, _Fig. 2_, _Fig. 3_] 245. Next come the _rafters_, as from _s_ to _n_, FIG. 2. Carpenters best know what is the _number_ and what the _size_ of the rafters; but from _s_ to _m_ there need be only about half as many as from _m_ to _n_. However, carpenters know all about this. It is their every-day work. The roof is forty-five _degrees pitch_, as the carpenters call it. If it were even _sharper_, it would be none the worse. There will be about _thirty_ ends of rafters to lodge on the plate, as at _m_; and these cannot _all_ be fastened to the top of the centre-post rising up from _a_; but carpenters know how to manage this matter, so as to make all strong and safe. The _plate_ which goes along on the tops of the row of posts, _b b b_, must, of course, be put on in a somewhat sloping form; otherwise there would be a sort of _hip_ formed by the rafters. However, the thatch is to be so deep, that this may not be of much consequence. Before the thatching begins, there are _laths_ to put upon the rafters. Thatchers know all about this, and all that you have to do is, to take care that the thatcher _tie the straw on well_. The best way, in a case of such deep thatch, is to have _a strong man to tie for the thatcher_. 246. The roof is now _raftered_, and it is to receive a thatch of _clean_, _sound_, and well-prepared wheat or rye straw, four _feet thick_, as at _h h_ in FIG. 2. 247. The house having now got _walls_ and _roof_, the next thing is to make the _bed_ to receive the ice. This bed is the area of the circle of which _a_ is the centre. You begin by laying on the ground _round logs_, eight inches through, or thereabouts, and placing them across the area, leaving spaces between them of about a foot. Then, _crossways on them_, poles about four inches through, placed at six inches apart. Then, _crossways on them_, other poles, about two inches through, placed at three inches apart. Then, _crossways on them_, rods as thick as your finger, placed at an inch apart. Then upon these, small, clean, dry, last-winter-cut _twigs_, to the thickness of about two inches; or, instead of these twigs, good, clean, strong _heath_, free from grass and moss, and from rubbish of all sorts. 248. This is the _bed_ for the ice to lie on; and as you see, the top of the bed will be seventeen inches from the ground. The pressure of the ice may, perhaps, bring it to fourteen, or to thirteen. Upon this bed the ice is put, broken and pummelled, and beaten down together in the usual manner. 249. Having got the bed filled with ice, we have next to _shut it safely up_. As we have seen, there is a passage (_e_). Two feet wide is enough for this passage; and, being as long as the wall is thick, it is of course, four feet long. The use of the passage is this: that you may have _two doors_, so that you may, in hot or damp weather, shut the outer door, while you have the inner door open. This inner door may be of hurdle-work, and straw, and covered, on one of the sides, with sheep-skins with the _wool on_, so as to keep out the external air. The outer-door, which must lock, must be of wood, made to shut very closely, and, besides, covered with skins like the other. At times of great danger from heat, or from wet, the whole of the passage may be filled with straw. The door (_p._ FIG. 3) should face the North, or between North and East. 250. As to the _size_ of the ice-house, that must, of course, depend upon the _quantity_ of ice that you may choose to have. A house on the above scale, is from _w_ to _x_ (FIG. 2) twenty-nine feet; from _y_ to _z_ (FIG. 2) nineteen feet. The area of the circle, of which _a_ is the centre, is ten feet in diameter, and as this area contains seventy-five superficial feet, you will, if you put ice on the bed to the height of only five feet, (and you _may_ put it on to the height of seven feet from the top of the bed,) you will have _three hundred and seventy-five cubic feet of ice_; and, observe, a cubic foot of ice will, when broken up, fill much more than a _Winchester Bushel_: what it may do as to an "IMPERIAL BUSHEL," engendered like Greek Loan Commissioners, by the unnatural heat of "PROSPERITY," God only knows! However, I do suppose, that, without making any allowance for the "_cold_ fit," as Dr. Baring calls it, into which "_late_ panic" has brought us; I do suppose, that even the scorching, the burning dog-star of "IMPERIAL PROSPERITY;" nay, that even DIVES himself, would hardly call for more than two bushels of ice in a day; for more than two bushels a day it would be, unless it were used in cold as well as in hot weather. 251. As to the _expense_ of such a house, it could, in the country, not be much. None of the posts, except the main or centre-post, need be _very straight_. The other posts might be easily culled from tree-lops, destined for fire-wood. The straw would _make all straight_. The _plates_ must of necessity be short pieces of wood; and, as to the _stakes_, the _laths_, and the _logs_, _poles_, _rods_, _twigs_, and _heath_, they would not all cost _twenty shillings_. The straw is the principal article; and, in most places, even that would not cost more than two or three pounds. If it last many years, the price could not be an object; and if but a little while, it would still be nearly as good for litter as it was before it was applied to this purpose. How often the _bottom of the straw walls_ might want renewing I cannot say, but I know that the roof would with few and small repairs, last well for ten years. 252. I have said that the interior row of posts is to be nine feet high, and the exterior row five feet high. I, in each case, mean, _with the plate inclusive_. I have only to add, that by way of superabundant precaution against bottom wet, it will be well to make a sort of _gutter_, to receive the drip from the roof, and to carry it away as soon as it falls. 253. Now, after expressing a hope that I shall have made myself clearly understood by every reader, it is necessary that I remind him, that I do not pretend to pledge myself for the complete success, nor for any success at all, of this mode of making ice-houses. But, at the same time, I express my firm belief, that complete success would attend it; because it not only corresponds with what I have seen of such matters; but I had the details from a gentleman who had ample experience to guide him, and who was a man on whose word and judgment I placed a perfect reliance. He advised me to erect an ice-house; but not caring enough about _fresh meat_ and _fish_ in summer, or at least not setting them enough above "_prime pork_" to induce me to take any trouble to secure the former, I never built an ice-house. Thus, then, I only communicate that in which I believe; there is, however, in all cases, this comfort, that if the thing fail as an ice-house, it will serve all generations to come as a model for a pig-bed. ADDITION. _Kensington, Nov. 14th, 1831._ MANGEL WURZEL. 254. This last summer, I have proved that, as keep for cows, MANGEL WURZEL is preferable to SWEDISH TURNIPS, whether as to quantity or quality. But there needs no other alteration in the book, than merely to read _mangel wurzel_ wherever you find _Swedish turnip_; the time of sowing, the mode and time of transplanting, the distances, and the cultivation, all being the same; and the only difference being in the _application of the leaves_, and in _the time of harvesting_ the roots. 255. The leaves of the MANGEL WURZEL are of great value, especially in dry summers. You begin, about the third week in August, to take off by a _downward pull_, the leaves of the plants; and they are excellent food for pigs and cows; only observe this, that, if given to cows, there must be, for each cow, _six pounds of hay a day_, which is not necessary in the case of the Swedish turnips. These leaves last till the crop is taken up, which ought to be in the _first week of November_. The taking off of the leaves does good to the plants: new leaves succeed higher up; and the plant becomes _longer_ than it otherwise would be, and, of course, _heavier_. But, in taking off the leaves, you must not approach too near to the top. 256. When you take the plants up in November, you must cut off the _crowns_ and the remaining leaves; and they, again, are for cows and pigs. Then you put the roots into some place to keep them from the frost; and, if you have no place under cover, put them in _pies_, in the same manner as directed for the Swedish turnips. The roots will average in weight 10 _lbs. each_. They may be given to cows _whole_, or to pigs either, and they are better than the Swedish turnip for both animals; and they do not give any bad or strong taste to the milk and butter. But, besides this use of the mangel wurzel, there is another, with regard to pigs at least, of very great importance. The _juice_ of this plant has so much of _sweetness_ in it, that, in France, they make _sugar_ of it; and have used the sugar, and found it equal in goodness to West India sugar. Many persons in England make _beer_ of this juice, and I have drunk of this beer, and found it very good. In short, the juice is most excellent for the mixing of moist food for pigs. I am now (20th Nov. 1831) boiling it for this purpose. My copper holds seven strike-bushels; I put in three bushels of mangel wurzel cut into pieces two inches thick, and then fill the copper with water. I draw off as much of the liquor as I want to wet pollard, or meal, for little pigs or fatting-pigs, and the rest, roots and all, I feed the _yard-hogs_ with; and this I shall follow on till about the middle of May. 257. If you give boiled, or steamed, _potatoes_ to pigs, there wants some liquor to mix with the potatoes; for the water in which potatoes have been boiled is _hurtful_ to any animal that drinks it. But mix the potatoes with juice of mangel wurzel, and they make very good food for hogs of all ages. The mangel wurzel produces _a larger_ crop than the Swedish turnip. COBBETT'S CORN. 258. IF you prefer _bread_ and _pudding_ to milk, butter, and meat, this corn will produce, on your forty rods, forty bushels, each weighing 60 _lbs. at the least_; and more flour, in proportion, than the best white wheat. To make _bread_ with it you must use _two-thirds_ wheaten, or rye, flour; but in puddings this is not necessary. The puddings at my house are all made with this flour, except meat and fruit pudding; for the corn flour is not adhesive or _clinging_ enough to make paste, or crust. This corn is the very best for hog-fatting in the whole world. I, last April, sent parcels of the seed into several counties, to be given away to working men: and I sent them instructions for the cultivation, which I shall repeat here. 259. I will first describe this _corn_ to you. It is that which is sometimes called _Indian corn_; and sometimes people call it Indian wheat. It is that sort of corn which the disciples ate as they were going up to Jerusalem on the Sabbath-day. They gathered it in the fields as they went along and ate it green, they being "an hungered," for which you know they were reproved by the pharisees. I have written a treatise on this corn in a book which I sell for four shillings, giving a minute account of the qualities, the culture, the harvesting, and the various uses of this corn; but I shall here confine myself to what is necessary for a labourer to know about it, so that he may be induced to raise and may be enabled to raise enough of it in his garden to fat a pig of ten score. 260. There are a great many sorts of this corn. They all come from countries which are hotter than England. This sort, which my eldest son brought into England, is a dwarf kind, and is the only kind that I have known to ripen in this country: and I know that it will ripen in this country in any summer; for I had a large field of it in 1828 and 1829; and last year (my lease at my farm being out at Michaelmas, and this corn not ripening till late in October) I had about two acres in my garden at Kensington. Within the memory of man there have not been three summers so cold as the last, one after another; and no one so cold as the last. Yet my corn ripened perfectly well, and this you will be satisfied of if you be amongst the men to whom this corn is given from me. You will see that it is in the shape of the cone of a spruce fir; you will see that the grains are fixed round a stalk which is called the _cob_. These _stalks_ or _ears_ come out of the side of the plant, which has leaves like a flag, which plant grows to about three feet high, and has two or three and sometimes more, of these ears or bunches of grain. Out of the top of the plant comes the tassel, which resembles the plumes of feathers upon a hearse; and this is the flower of the plant. 261. The grain is, as you will see, about the size of a large pea, and there are from two to three hundred of these grains upon the ear, or cob. In my treatise, I have shown that, in America, all the hogs and pigs, all the poultry of every sort, the greater part of the oxen, and a considerable part of the sheep, are fatted upon this corn; that it is the best food for horses; and that, when ground and dressed in various ways, it is used in bread, in puddings, in several other ways in families; and that, in short, it is the real staff of life, in all the countries where it is in common culture, and where the climate is hot. When used for poultry, the grain is rubbed off the cob. Horses, sheep, and pigs, bite the grain off, and leave the cob; but horned cattle eat cob and all. 262. I am to speak of it to you, however, only as a thing to make you some bacon, for which use it surpasses all other grain whatsoever. When the grain is in the whole ear, it is called corn in the ear; when it is rubbed off the cob, it is called shelled corn. Now, observe, ten bushels of shelled corn are equal, in the fatting of a pig, to fifteen bushels of barley; and fifteen bushels of barley, if properly ground and managed, will make a pig of ten score, if he be not too poor when you begin to fat him. Observe that everybody who has been in America knows, that the finest hogs in the world are fatted in that country; and no man ever saw a hog fatted in that country in any other way than tossing the ears of corn over to him in the sty, leaving him to bite it off the ear, and deal with it according to his pleasure. The finest and solidest bacon in the world is produced in this way. 263. Now, then, I know, that a bushel of shelled corn may be grown upon one single rod of ground sixteen feet and a half each way; I have grown more than that this last summer; and any of you may do the same if you will strictly follow the instructions which I am now about to give you. 1. Late in March (I am doing it now,) or in the first fortnight of April, dig your ground up _very deep_, and let it lie rough till between the seventh and fifteenth of May. 2. Then (in dry weather if possible) dig up the ground again, and make it smooth at top. Draw drills with a line two feet apart, just as you do drills for peas; rub the grains off the cob; put a little very rotten and fine manure along the bottom of the drill; lay the grains along upon that six inches apart; cover the grain over with fine earth, so that there be about an inch and a half on the top of the grain; pat the earth down a little with the back of a hoe to make it lie solid on the grain. 3. If there be any danger of slugs, you must kill them before the corn comes up if possible: and the best way to do this is to put a little hot lime in a bag, and go very early in the morning, and shake the bag all round the edges of the ground and over the ground. Doing this three or four times very early in a dewy morning, or just after a shower, will destroy all the slugs; and this ought to be done for all other crops as well as for that of corn. 4. When the corn comes up, you must take care to keep all birds off till it is two or three inches high; for the spear is so sweet, that the birds of all sorts are very apt to peck it off, particularly the doves and the larks and pigeons. As soon as it is fairly above ground, give the whole of the ground (in dry weather) a flat hoeing, and be sure to move all the ground close round the plants. When the weeds begin to appear again, give the ground another hoeing, but always in dry weather. When the plants get to be about a foot high or a little more, dig the ground between the rows, and work the earth up a little against the stems of the plants. 5. About the middle of August you will see the tassel springing up out of the middle of the plant, and the ears coming out of the sides. If weeds appear in the ground, hoe it again to kill the weeds, so that the ground may be always kept clean. About the middle of September you will find the grains of the ears to be full of milk, just in the state that the ears were at Jerusalem when the disciples cropped them to eat. From this milky state, they, like the grains of wheat, grow hard; and as soon as the grains begin to be hard, you should cut off the tops of the corn and the long flaggy leaves, and leave the ears to ripen upon the stalk or stem. If it be a warm summer, they will be fit to harvest by the last of October; but it does not signify if they remain out until the middle of November or even later. The longer they stay out, the harder the grain will be. 6. Each ear is covered in a very curious manner with a husk. The best way for you will be, when you gather in your crop to strip off the husks, to tie the ears in bunches of six or eight or ten, and to hang them up to nails in the walls, or against the beams of your house; for there is so much moisture in the cob that the ears are apt to heat if put together in great parcels. The room in which I write in London is now hung all round with bunches of this corn. The bunches may be hung up in a shed or stable for a while, and, when perfectly dry, they may be put into bags. 7. Now, as to the mode of _using_ the corn; if for poultry, you must rub the grains off the cob; but if for pigs, give them the whole ears. You will find some of the ears in which the grain is still soft. Give these to your pig first; and keep the hardest to the last. You will soon see how much the pig will require in a day, because pigs, more decent than many rich men, never eat any more than is necessary to them. You will thus have a pig; you will have two flitches of bacon, two pig's cheeks, one set of souse, two griskins, two spare-ribs, from both which I trust in God you will keep the jaws of the Methodist parson; and if, while you are drinking a mug of your own ale, after having dined upon one of these, you drink my health, you may be sure that it will give you more merit in the sight of God as well as of man, than you would acquire by groaning the soul out of your body in responses to the blasphemous cant of the sleekheaded Methodist thief that would persuade you to live upon potatoes. 264. You must be quite sensible that I cannot have any motive but your good in giving you this advice, other than the delight which I take and the pleasure which I derive from doing that good. You are all personally unknown to me: in all human probability not one man in a thousand will ever see me. You have no more power to show your gratitude to me than you have to cause me to live for a hundred years. I do not desire that you should deem this a favour received from me. The thing is worth your trying, at any rate. 265. The corn is off by the middle of November. The ground should then be well manured, and deeply dug, and planted with EARLY YORK, or EARLY DWARF CABBAGES, which will be _loaved_ in the _latter end of April_, and may be either sold or given to pigs, or cows, _before the time to plant the corn again_. Thus you have two very large crops on the same ground in the same year. INDEX. PARAGRAPH Agur 18 Bees 160 Bread, making of 77 Brewing Beer 20, 108 _See also_ "POSTSCRIPT." Brewing-machine 41 Brougham, Mr. 41 Candles and Rushes 199 Castlereagh's and Mackintosh's Oratory 152 Combination Laws 108 Corn, Cobbett 258 Cows, keeping 111 Cusar, Mr. 86 Custom Laws 108 Drennen, Dr. 80 Dress, Household Goods, and Fuel 199 Ducks 169 Economy, meaning of the term 2, 3 Education 11 Ellman, Mr. 20, 60 Excise Laws 108 Fowls 176 Geese 167 Goats and Ewes 189 Hanning, Mr. Wm. 99 Hill, Mr. 98 Hops 202 Ice-houses 236 Leghorn 212 Libel Laws 108 Malthus, Parson 141 Mangel Wurzel 254 Mustard 198 Parks, Mr. 98 Paul, Saint 148 Peel's flimsy Dresses 152 Pigeons 181 Pigs, keeping 139 Pitt's false Money 152 Plat, English Straw 208 Porter, how to make 71 Potatoes 77 Rabbits 184 Salting Mutton and Beef 157 Stanhope, Lord 144 Swedish Turnips 207 Turkeys 171 Walter's and Stoddart's Paragraphs 152 Walter Scott's Poems 152 Want, the Parent of Crime 18 Wakefield, Mr. Edward 78, 99 Wilberforce's Potatoe-Diet 152 Winchelsea, Lord. 144 Woodhouse, Miss 213 Yeast 203 COBBETT'S POOR MAN'S FRIEND; A DEFENCE OF THE RIGHTS OF THOSE WHO DO THE WORK, AND FIGHT THE BATTLES. COBBETT'S POOR MAN'S FRIEND. NUMBER I. TO THE WORKING CLASSES OF PRESTON. _Burghclere, Hampshire, 22d August, 1826._ MY EXCELLENT FRIENDS, 1. Amongst all the new, the strange, the unnatural, the monstrous things that mark the present times, or, rather, that have grown out of the present system of governing this country, there is, in my opinion, hardly any thing more monstrous, or even so monstrous, as the language that is now become fashionable, relative to the condition and the treatment of that part of the community which are usually denominated the POOR; by which word I mean to designate the persons who, from age, infirmity, helplessness, or from want of the means of gaining anything by labour, become destitute of a sufficiency of food or of raiment, and are in danger of perishing if they be not relieved. Such are the persons that we mean when we talk of THE POOR; and, I repeat, that amongst all the monstrous things of these monstrous days, nothing is, in my opinion, so monstrous as the language which we now constantly hear relative to the condition and treatment of this part of the community. 2. Nothing can be more common than to read, in the newspapers, descriptions the most horrible of the sufferings of _the Poor_, in various parts of England, but particularly in the North. It is related of them, that they eat horse-flesh, grains, and have been detected in eating out of pig-troughs. In short, they are represented as being far worse fed and worse lodged than the greater part of the pigs. These statements of the _newspapers_ may be false, or, at least, only partially true; but, at a public meeting of rate-payers, at Manchester, on the 17th of August, Mr. BAXTER, the Chairman, said, that some of the POOR had been _starved to death_, and that _tens of thousands were upon the point of starving_; and, at the same meeting, Mr. POTTER gave a detail, which showed that Mr. BAXTER'S general description was true. Other accounts, very nearly official, and, at any rate, being of unquestionable authenticity, concur so fully with the statements made at the Manchester Meeting, that it is impossible not to believe, that a great number of thousands of persons are now on the point of perishing for want of food, and _that many have actually perished from that cause_; and that this has taken place, and is taking place, IN ENGLAND. 3. There is, then, no doubt of the existence of the disgraceful and horrid facts; but that which is as horrid as are the facts themselves, and even more horrid than those facts, is the cool and _unresentful_ language and manner in which the facts are usually spoken of. Those who write about the misery and starvation in Lancashire and Yorkshire, never appear to think _that any body is to blame_, even when the poor die with hunger. The Ministers ascribe the calamity to "_over-trading_;" the cotton and cloth and other master-manufacturers ascribe it to "_a want of paper-money_," or to the _Corn-Bill_; others ascribe the calamity to the _taxes_. These last are right; but what have these things to do with the treatment of the poor? What have these things to do with the horrid facts relative to the condition and starvation of English people? It is very true, that the enormous taxes which we pay on account of loans made to carry on the late unjust wars, on account of a great standing army in time of peace, on account of pensions, sinecures and grants, and on account of _a Church_, which, besides, swallows up so large a part of the produce of the land and the labour; it is very true, that these enormous taxes, co-operating with the paper-money and its innumerable monopolies; it is very true, that _these enormous taxes_, thus associated, have produced the ruin in trade, manufactures and commerce, and have, of course, produced the _low wages_ and the _want of employment_; this is very true; but it is not less true, that, be wages or employment as they may, the poor are not to perish with hunger, or with cold, while the rest of the community have food and raiment more than the latter want for their own sustenance. The LAW OF ENGLAND says, that there shall be no person to suffer from want of food and raiment. It has placed _officers_ in every parish to see that no person suffer from this sort of want; and lest these officers should not do their duty, _it commands all the magistrates_ to hear the complaints of the poor, and to compel the officers to do their duty. The LAW OF ENGLAND has provided ample means of relief for the poor; for, it has authorized the officers, or overseers, to get from the rich inhabitants of the parish as much money as _is wanted_ for the purpose, without any limit as to amount; and, in order that the overseers may have no excuse of inability to make people pay, the law has armed them with powers of a nature the most efficacious and the most efficient and most prompt in their operation. In short, the language of the LAW, to the overseer, is this: "Take care that no person suffer from hunger, or from cold; and that you may be sure not to fail of the means of obeying this my command, I give you, as far as shall be necessary for this purpose, full power over all the lands, all the houses, all the goods, and all the cattle, in your parish." To the Justices of the Peace the LAW says: "Lest the overseer should neglect his duty; lest, in spite of my command to him, any one should suffer from hunger or cold, I command you to be ready to hear the complaint of every sufferer from such neglect; I command you to summon the offending overseer, and to compel him to do his duty." 4. Such being the language of the LAW, is it not a monstrous state of things, when we hear it commonly and coolly stated, that many thousands of persons in England are _upon the point of starvation_; that _thousands will die of hunger and cold next winter_; that many have _already died of hunger_; and when we hear all this, unaccompanied with one word of _complaint against any overseer_, or any _justice of the peace_! Is not this state of things perfectly monstrous? A state of things in which it appears to be taken for granted, that the LAW is nothing, when it is intended to operate as a protection to the poor! Law is always law: if one part of the law may be, with impunity, set at defiance, why not another and every other part of the law? If the law which provides for the succour of the poor, for the preservation of their lives, may be, with impunity, set at defiance, why should there not be impunity for setting at defiance the law which provides for the security of the property and the lives of the rich? If you, in Lancashire, were to read, in an account of a meeting in Hampshire, that, here, the farmers and gentlemen were constantly and openly robbed; that the poor were daily breaking into their houses, and knocking their brains out; and that it was expected that great part of them would be killed very soon: if you, in Lancashire were to hear this said of the state of Hampshire, what would you say? Say! Why, you would say, to be sure, "Where is the LAW; where are the constables, the justices, the juries, the judges, the sheriffs, and the hangmen? Where can that _Hampshire_ be? It, surely, never can be in Old England. It must be some savage country, where such enormities can be committed, and where even those, who talk and who _lament_ the evils, never utter one word in the way of _blame_ of the perpetrators." And if you were called upon to pay taxes, or to make subscriptions in money, to furnish the means of protection to the unfortunate rich people in Hampshire, would you not say, and with good reason, "No: what should we do this for? The people of Hampshire have the SAME LAW that we have; they are under the same Government; _let them duly enforce that law_; and then they will stand in no need of money from us to provide for their protection." 5. This is what common sense says would be _your_ language in such a case; and does not common sense say, that the people of Hampshire, and of every other part of England, will thus think, when they are told of the sufferings, and the starvation, in Lancashire and Yorkshire! The report of the Manchester ley-payers, which took place on the 17th of August, reached me in a friend's house in this little village; and when another friend, who was present, read, in the speeches of Mr. BAXTER and Mr. POTTER, that tens of thousands of Lancashire people were _on the point of starvation_, and that many had already _actually died from starvation_; and when he perceived, that even those gentlemen uttered not a word of _complaint_ against either overseer or justices of the peace, he exclaimed: "What! are there _no poor-laws_ in Lancashire? Where, amidst all this starvation, is the overseer? Where is the justice of the peace? Surely that Lancashire can never be _in England_?" 6. The observations of this gentleman are those which occur to every man of sense; when he hears the horrid accounts of the sufferings in the manufacturing districts; for, though we are all well aware, that the burden of the poor-rates presses, at this time, with peculiar weight on the land-owners and occupiers, and on owners and occupiers of other real property, in those districts, we are equally well aware, that those owners and occupiers _have derived great benefits_ from that vast population that now presses upon them. There is _land_ in the parish in which I am now writing, and belonging to the farm in the house of which I am, which land would not let for 20_s._ a statute acre; while land, not so good, would let, in any part of Lancashire, near to the manufactories, at 60_s._ or 80_s._ a statute acre. The same may be said with regard to _houses_. And, pray, are the owners and occupiers, who have gained so largely by the manufacturing works being near their lands and houses; are they, _now_, to complain, if the vicinage of these same works causes a charge of rates _there_, heavier than exists _here_? Are the owners and occupiers of Lancashire to enjoy _an age of advantages_ from the labours of the spinners and the weavers; and are they, when a reverse comes, _to bear none of the disadvantages_? Are they to make no sacrifices, in order to save from perishing those industrious and ever-toiling creatures, by the labours of whom their land and houses have been augmented in value, three, five, or perhaps tenfold? None but the most unjust of mankind can answer these questions in the affirmative. 7. But as _greediness_ is never at a loss for excuses for the hard-heartedness that it is always ready to practise, it is said, that _the whole of the rents_ of the land and the houses would not suffice for the purpose; that is to say, that if the poor rates were to be made so high as to leave the tenant no means of paying rent, even then some of the poor must go without a sufficiency of food. I have no doubt that, in particular instances, this would be the case. But for cases like this the LAW has amply provided; for, in every case of this sort, _adjoining parishes_ may be made to _assist_ the hard pressed parish; and if the pressure becomes severe on these adjoining parishes, those _next adjoining them_ may be made to assist; and thus the call upon adjoining parishes maybe extended till it reach _all over the county_. So good, so benignant, so wise, so foreseeing, and so effectual, is this, the very best of all our good old laws! This law or rather code of laws, distinguishes England from all the other countries in the world, _except the United States of America_, where, while hundreds of other English statutes have been abolished, this law has always remained in full force, this great law of mercy and humanity, which says, that _no human being that treads English ground shall perish for want of food and raiment_. For such poor persons as are _unable to work_, the law provides food and clothing; and it commands that _work_ shall be provided for such as are able to work, and _cannot otherwise get employment_. This law was passed more than _two hundred years_ ago. Many attempts have been made to _chip it away_, and some have been made to destroy it altogether; but it still exists, and every man who does not wish to see general desolation take place, will do his best to cause it to be duly and conscientiously executed. 8. Having now, my friends of Preston, stated what the law is, and also the reasons for its honest enforcement in the particular case immediately before us, I will next endeavour to show you that it is founded in the law of nature, and that, were it not for the provisions of this law, people would, according to the opinions of the greatest lawyers, have _a right_ to _take_ food and raiment sufficient to preserve them from perishing; and that _such taking_ would be neither _felony_ nor _larceny_. This is a matter of the greatest importance; it is a most momentous question; for if it be settled in the affirmative--if it be settled that it is _not felony, nor larceny,_ to take other men's goods without their assent, and even against their will, when such taking is absolutely necessary to the preservation of life, how great, how imperative, is the duty of affording, if possible, _that relief which will prevent such necessity_! In other words, how imperative it is on all overseers and justices to obey the law with alacrity; and how weak are those persons who look to "_grants_" and "_subscriptions_," to supply the place of the execution of this, the most important of all the laws that constitute the basis of English society! And if this question be settled in the affirmative; if we find the most learned of lawyers and most wise of men, maintaining the affirmative of this proposition; if we find them maintaining, that it is neither _felony_ nor _larceny_ to take food, in case of _extreme necessity_, though without the assent, and even against the will of the owner, what are we to think of those (and they are not few in number nor weak in power) who, animated with the savage soul of the Scotch _feelosophers_, would wholly abolish the poor-laws, or, at least, render them of little effect, and thereby constantly keep thousands exposed to this dire necessity! 9. In order to do justice to this great subject; in order to treat it with perfect fairness, and in a manner becoming of me and of you, I must take the authorities _on both sides_. There are some great lawyers who have contended that the starving man is still guilty of felony or larceny, if he take food to satisfy his hunger; but there are a greater number of other, and still greater, lawyers, who maintain the contrary. The general doctrine of those who maintain the right to take, is founded on the law of nature; and it is a saying as old as the hills, a saying in every language in the world, that "_self-preservation_ is the _first law_ of nature." The law of nature teaches every creature to prefer the preservation of its own life to all other things. But, in order to have a fair view of the matter before us, we ought to inquire how it came to pass, that the laws were ever made to punish men as criminals, for taking the victuals, drink, or clothing, that they might stand in need of. We must recollect, then, that there was a time when no such laws existed; when men, like the wild animals in the fields, took what they were able to take, if they wanted it. In this state of things, all the land and all the produce belonged to all the people _in common_. Thus were men situated, when they lived under what is called the _law of nature_; when every one provided, as he could, for his self-preservation. 10. At length this state of things became changed: men entered into society; they made laws to restrain individuals from following, in certain cases, the dictates of their own will; they protected the weak against the strong; the laws secured men in possession of lands, houses, and goods, that were called THEIRS; the words MINE and THINE, which mean _my own_ and _thy own_, were invented to designate what we now call _a property_ in things. The law necessarily made it criminal in one man to take away, or to injure, the property of another man. It was, you will observe, even in this state of nature, always _a crime_ to do certain things against our neighbour. To kill him, to wound him, to slander him, to expose him to suffer from the want of food or raiment, or shelter. These, and many others, were crimes in the eye of the law of nature; but, to take share of a man's victuals or clothing; to go and insist upon sharing a part of any of the good things that he happened to have in his possession, could be _no crime_, because there was _no property_ in anything, except in man's body itself. Now, civil society was formed for the _benefit_ of the whole. The whole gave up their natural rights, in order that every one might, for the future, enjoy his life in greater security. This civil society was intended to change the state of man _for the better_. Before this state of civil society, the starving, the hungry, the naked man, had a right to go and provide himself with necessaries wherever he could find them. There would be sure to be some such necessitous persons in a state of civil society. Therefore, when civil society was established, it is impossible to believe that it _had not in view some provision for these destitute persons_. It would be monstrous to suppose the contrary. The contrary supposition would argue, that fraud was committed upon the mass of the people in forming this civil society; for, as the sparks fly upwards, so will there always be destitute persons to some extent or other, in _every community_, and such there are to now a considerable extent, even in the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA; therefore, the formation of the civil society must have been fraudulent or tyrannical upon any other supposition than that it made provision, in some way or other, for destitute persons; that is to say, for persons unable, from some cause or other, to provide for themselves the food and raiment sufficient to preserve them from perishing. Indeed, a provision for the destitute seems _essential to the lawfulness_ of civil society; and this appears to have been the opinion of BLACKSTONE, when, in the first Book and first Chapter of his Commentaries on the Laws of England, he says, "the law not only regards _life_ and _member_, and protects every man in the enjoyment of them, but also _furnishes him with every thing necessary for their support_. For there is no man so indigent or wretched, but he may _demand_ a supply _sufficient for all the necessaries of life_ from the more opulent part of the community, by means of the several statutes enacted for the relief of the poor; a humane provision _dictated_ by the _principles of society_." 11. No man will contend, that the main body of the people in any country upon earth, and of course in England, would have consented to abandon the rights of nature; to give up their right to enjoy all things in common; no man will believe, that the main body of the people would ever have given their assent to the establishing of a state of things which should make all the lands, and all the trees, and all the goods and cattle of every sort, private property; which should have shut out a large part of the people from having such property, and which should, at the same time, not have provided the means of preventing those of them, who might fall into indigence, from being _actually starved to death_! It is impossible to believe this. Men never gave their assent to enter into society on terms like these. One part of the condition upon which men entered into society was, that care should be taken that no human being should perish from want. When they agreed to enter into that state of things, which would necessarily cause some men to be rich and some men to be poor; when they gave up that right, which God had given them, to live as well as they could, and to take the means wherever they found them, the condition clearly was, the "_principle of society_;" clearly was, as BLACKSTONE defines it, that the indigent and wretched should have a right to "_demand_ from the rich a supply _sufficient_ for all the _necessities_ of life." 12. If the society did not take care to act upon this principle; if it neglected to secure the legal means, of preserving the life of the indigent and wretched; then the society itself, in so far as that wretched person was concerned, ceased to have a legal existence. It had, as far as related to him, forfeited its character of legality. It had no longer any claim to his submission to its laws. His rights of nature returned: as far as related to him, the law of Nature revived in all its force: that state of things in which all men enjoyed all things _in common_ was revived with regard to him; and he took, and he had a right to take, food and raiment, or, as Blackstone expresses it, "a supply sufficient for all the necessities of life." For, if it be true, as laid down by this English lawyer, that the _principles_ of society; if it be true, that the very principles, or _foundations_ of society dictate, that the destitute person shall have a legal demand for a supply from the rich, sufficient for all the necessities of life; if this be true, and true it certainly is, it follows of course that the principles, that is, the base, or _foundation_, of society, is subverted, is gone; and that society is, in fact, no longer what it was intended to be, when the indigent, when the person in a state of extreme necessity, cannot, at once, obtain from the rich such sufficient supply: in short, we need go no further than this passage of BLACKSTONE, to show, that civil society is subverted, and that there is, in fact, nothing legitimate in it, when the destitute and wretched have no certain and legal resource. 13. But this is so important a matter, and there have been such monstrous doctrines and projects put forth by MALTHUS, by the EDINBURGH REVIEWERS, by LAWYER SCARLETT, by LAWYER NOLAN, by STURGES BOURNE, and by an innumerable swarm of persons who have been giving before the House of Commons what they call "_evidence_:" there have been such monstrous doctrines and projects put forward by these and other persons; and there seems to be such a lurking desire to carry the hostility to the working classes still further, that I think it necessary in order to show, that these English poor-laws, which have been so much calumniated by so many greedy proprietors of land; I think it necessary to show, that these poor-laws are the things which men of property, above all others, _ought to wish to see maintained_, seeing that, according to the opinions of the greatest and the wisest of men, they must suffer most in consequence of the abolition of those laws; because, by the abolition of those laws, the right given by the laws of nature would revive, and the destitute would _take_, where they now simply _demand_ (as BLACKSTONE expresses it) in the name of the law. There has been some difference of opinion, as to the question, whether it be _theft_ or _no theft_; or, rather, whether it be a _criminal act_, or _not a criminal act_, for a person, in a case of extreme necessity from want of food, to take food without the assent and even against the will, of the owner. We have, amongst our great lawyers, SIR MATTHEW HALE and SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE, who contend (though as we shall see, with much feebleness, hesitation, and reservation,) that it _is theft_, notwithstanding the extremity of the want; but there are many, and much higher authorities, foreign as well as English, on the other side. Before, however, I proceed to the hearing of these authorities, let me take a short view of _the origin of the poor laws in England_; for that view will convince us, that, though the present law was passed but a little more than two hundred years ago, there had been something to effect the same purpose ever since England had been called England. 14. According to the Common Law of England, as recorded in the MIRROUR OF JUSTICES, a book which was written before the Norman Conquest; a book in as high reputation, as a law-book, as any one in England; according to this book, CHAPTER 1st, SECTION 3d, which treats of the "First constitutions made by the antient kings;" According to this work, provision was made for the sustenance of the poor. The words are these: "It was ordained, that the poor should be sustained by _parsons_, by _rectors_ of the church, and by the _parishioners_, so that _none of them die for want of sustenance_." Several hundred years later, the canons of the church show, that when the church had become rich, it took upon itself the whole of the care and expense attending the relieving of the poor. These canons, in setting forth the manner in which the tithes should be disposed of, say, "Let the priests set apart the first share for the building and ornaments of the church; let them distribute the _second to the poor and strangers, with their own hands, in mercy and humility_; and let them reserve the third part for themselves." This passage is taken from the canons of ELFRIC, canon 24th. At a later period, when the tithes had, in some places, been appropriated to convents, acts of Parliament were passed, compelling the impropriators to leave, in the hands of their vicar, a sufficiency for the maintenance of the poor. There were two or three acts of this sort passed, one particularly in the twelfth year of RICHARD the Second, chapter 7th. So that here we have the most ancient book on the Common Law; we have the canons of the church at a later period; we have acts of Parliament at a time when the power and glory of England were at their very highest point; we have all these to tell us, that in England, from the very time that the country took the name, _there was always a legal and secure provision for the poor, so that no person, however aged, infirm, unfortunate, or destitute, should suffer from want_. 15. But, my friends, a time came when the provision made by the Common Law, by the Canons of the Church, and by the Acts of the Parliament coming in aid of those canons; a time arrived, when all these were rendered null by what is called the PROTESTANT REFORMATION. This "Reformation," As it is called, sweeped away the convents, gave a large part of the tithes to greedy courtiers, put parsons with wives and children into the livings, and left the poor without any resource whatsoever. This terrible event, which deprived England of the last of her possessions on the continent of Europe, reduced the people of England to the most horrible misery; from the happiest and best fed and best clad people in the world, it made them the most miserable, the most wretched and ragged of creatures. At last it was seen that, in spite of the most horrible tyranny that ever was exercised in the world, in spite of the racks and the gibbets and the martial law of QUEEN ELIZABETH, those who had amassed to themselves the property out of which the poor had been formerly fed, were compelled to _pass a law to raise money, by way of tax, for relieving the necessities of the poor_. They had passed many acts before the FORTY-THIRD year of the reign of this Queen Elizabeth; but these acts were all found to be ineffectual, till, at last, in the forty-third year of the reign: of this tyrannical Queen, and in the year of our Lord 1601, that famous act was passed, which has been in force until this day; and which, as I said before, is still in force, notwithstanding all the various attempts of folly and cruelty to get rid of it. 16. Thus, then, the present poor-laws are _no new thing_. They are no _gift_ to the working people. You hear the greedy landowners everlastingly complaining against this law of QUEEN ELIZABETH. They pretend that it was _an unfortunate_ law. They affect to regard it as a great INNOVATION, seeing that no such law existed before; but, as I have shown, a better law existed before, having the same object in view. I have shown, that the "Reformation," as it is called, had sweeped away that which had been secured to the poor by the Common Law, by the Canons of the Church, and by ancient Acts of Parliament. There was _nothing new_, then, in the way of benevolence towards the people, in this celebrated Act of Parliament of the reign of QUEEN ELIZABETH; and the landowners would act wisely by holding their tongues upon the subject; or, if they be too noisy, one may look into their GRANTS, and see if we cannot find something THERE to keep out the present parochial assessments. 17. Having now seen _the origin_ of the present poor-laws, and the justice of their due execution, let us return to those authorities of which I was speaking but now, and an examination into which will show the extreme danger of listening to those projectors who would abolish the poor-laws; that is to say, who would sweep away that provision which was established in the reign of QUEEN ELIZABETH, from a conviction that it was absolutely necessary to preserve the peace of the country and the lives of the people. I observed before that there has been some difference of opinion amongst lawyers as to the question, whether it be, or be not, _theft_, to take without his consent and against his will, the victuals of another, in order to prevent the taker from starving. SIR MATTHEW HALE and SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE say that it _is theft_. I am now going to quote the several authorities on both sides, and it will be necessary for me to indicate the works which I quote from by the words, letters, and figures which are usually made use of in quoting from these works. Some part of what I shall quote will be in Latin: but I shall put nothing in that language of which I will not give you the translation. I beg you to read these quotations with the greatest attention; for you will find, at the end of your reading, that you have obtained great knowledge upon the subject, and knowledge, too, which will not soon depart from your minds. 18. I begin with SIR MATTHEW HALE, (a Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench in the reign of Charles the Second,) who, in his PLEAS OF THE CROWN, CHAP. IX., has the following passage, which I put in distinct paragraphs, and mark A, B, and C. 19. A. "Some of the casuists, and particularly COVARRUVIUS, Tom. I. _De furti et rapinæ restitutione_, § 3, 4, p. 473; and GROTIUS, _de jure belli, ac pacis_; lib. II. cap. 2. § 6, tell us, that in case of extreme necessity, either of hunger or clothing, the _civil distributions of property cease_, and by a kind of tacit condition the _first community doth return_, and upon this those common assertions are grounded: '_Quicquid necessitas cogit, defendit._' [Whatever necessity calls for, it justifies.] '_Necessitas est lex temporis et loci._' [Necessity is the law of time and place.] '_In casu extremæ necessitatis omnia sunt communia._' [In case of extreme necessity, all things are _in common_;] and, therefore, in such case _theft is no theft_, or at least not punishable as theft; and some even of our own lawyers have asserted the same; and very bad use hath been made of this concession by some of the _Jesuitical_ casuists of _France_, who have thereupon advised apprentices and servants to rob their masters, where they have been indeed themselves in want of necessaries, of clothes or victuals; whereof, they tell them, they themselves are the competent judges; and by this means let loose, as much as they can, by their doctrine of probability, all the ligaments of property and civil society." 20. B. "I do, therefore, _take it_, that, where persons live under the same civil government, _as here in England_, that rule, at least by the laws of _England_, is false; and, therefore, if a person being _under necessity for want of victuals_, or clothes, shall, upon that account, clandestinely, and '_animo furandi_,' [with intent to steal,] steal another man's goods, it is felony, and a crime, by the laws of _England_, punishable with death; although, the judge before whom the trial is, in this case (as in other cases of extremity) be by the laws of _England_ intrusted with a power to reprieve the offender, before or after judgment, in order to the obtaining the King's mercy. For, 1st, Men's properties would be under a strange insecurity, being laid open to other men's necessities, whereof no man can possibly judge, but the party himself. And, 2nd, Because by the laws of this kingdom [here he refers to the 43 Eliz. cap. 2] sufficient provision is made for the supply of such necessities by collections for the poor, and by the power of the civil magistrate. Consonant hereunto seems to be the law even among the Jews; if we may believe the wisest of kings. Proverbs vi. 30, 31. '_Men do not despise a thief, if he steal to satisfy his soul when he is hungry, but if he be found, he shall restore seven-fold, he shall give all the substance of his house._' It is true, _death_ among them was not the penalty of theft, yet his necessity gave him _no exception_ from the ordinary punishment inflicted by their law upon that offence." 21. C. "Indeed this rule, '_in casu extremæ necessitatis omnia sunt communia_,' does hold, in some measure, in some particular cases, where, by the tacit consent of nations, or of some particular countries or societies, it hath obtained. First, among the _Jews_, it was lawful in case of hunger to pull ears of standing corn, and eat, (Matt. xii. 1;) and for one to pass through a vineyard, or olive-yard, to gather and eat without carrying away. Deut. xxiii. 24, 25. SECOND, By the _Rhodian_ law, and the common-maritime custom, if the common provision for the ship's company fail, the master may, under certain temperaments, _break open the private chests of the mariners or passengers_, and _make a distribution_ of that particular and private provision for the _preservation of the ship's company_." Vide CONSOLATO DEL MARE, cap. 256. LE CUSTOMES DE LA MERE, p. 77. 22. SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE agrees, in substance, with HALE; but he is, as we shall presently see, much more eager to establish his doctrine; and, we shall see besides, that he has not scrupled to be guilty of misquoting, and of very shamefully _garbling_, _the Scripture_, in order to establish his point. We shall find him flatly contradicting the laws of England; but, he might have spared the Holy Scriptures, which, however, he has not done. 23. To return to HALE, you see he is compelled to begin with acknowledging that there are great authorities against him; and he could not say that GROTIUS was not one of the most virtuous as well as one of the most learned of mankind. HALE does not know very well what to do with those old sayings about the justification which hard necessity gives: he does not know what to do with the maxim, that, "in case of extreme necessity all things _are owned in common_." He is exceedingly puzzled with these ancient authorities, and flies off into prattle rather than argument, and tells us a story about "_jesuitical_" casuists in France, who advised apprentices and servants to rob their masters, and that they thus "let loose the ligaments of property and civil society." I fancy that it would require a pretty large portion of that sort of faith which induced this Protestant judge to send witches and wizards to the gallows; a pretty large portion of this sort of faith, to make us believe, that the "_casuists_ of France," who, doubtless, _had servants of their own_, would teach servants to rob their masters! In short, this prattle of the judge seems to have been nothing more than one of those Protestant effusions which were too much in fashion at the time when he wrote. 24. He begins his second paragraph, or paragraph B., by saying, that he "_takes it_" to be so and so; and then comes another qualified expression; he talks of civil government "_as here in England_." Then he says, that the rule of GROTIUS and others, against which he has been contending, "he takes _to be false_, at _least_," says he, "_by the laws of England_." After he has made all these qualifications, he then proceeds to say that _such taking is theft_; that it is _felony_; and it is a crime which the laws of England punish with _death_! But, as if stricken with remorse at putting the frightful words upon paper; as if feeling shame for the law and for England itself, he instantly begins to tell us, that the judge who presides at the trial is intrusted, "_by the laws of England_," with power to _reprieve_ the offender, in order to the obtaining of the _King's mercy_! Thus he softens it down. He will have it to be LAW to put a man to death in such a case; but he is ashamed to leave his readers to believe, that an English judge and an English king WOULD OBEY THIS LAW! 25. Let us now hear the reasons which he gives for this which he pretends to be law. His first reason is, that there would be no security for property, if it were laid open to the necessities of the indigent, of which necessities _no man but the takers themselves could be the judge_. He talks of a "strange insecurity;" but, upon my word, no insecurity could be half so strange as this assertion of his own. BLACKSTONE has just the same argument. "Nobody," says he, "would be a judge of the wants of the taker, but the taker himself;" and BLACKSTONE, copying the very words of HALE, talks of the "strange insecurity" arising from this cause. Now, then, suppose a man to come into my house, and to take away a bit of bacon. Suppose me to pursue him and seize him. He would tell me that he was starving for want of food. I hope that the bare statement would induce me, or any man in the world that I do call or ever have called my friend, to let him go without further inquiry; but, if I chose to push the matter further, there would be _the magistrate_. If he chose to commit the man, would there not be a _jury_ and a _judge_ to receive evidence and to ascertain _whether the extreme necessity existed or not_? 26. Aye, says Judge HALE; but I have another reason, a devilish deal better than this, "and that is, the act of the 43d year of the reign of QUEEN ELIZABETH!" Aye, my old boy, that is a thumping reason! "_Sufficient provision_ is made for the supply of such necessities by _collections for the poor_, and by the _power of the civil magistrate_." Aye, aye! that is the reason; and, Mr. SIR MATTHEW HALE, there is _no other reason_, say what you will about the matter. There stand the overseer and the civil magistrate to take care that such necessities be provided for; and if they did not stand there for that purpose, the law of nature would be revived in behalf of the suffering creature. 27. HALE, not content however with this act of QUEEN ELIZABETH, and still hankering after this hard doctrine, furbishes up a bit of Scripture, and calls Solomon the _wisest of kings_ on account of these two verses which he has taken. HALE observes, indeed, that the Jews did not put thieves to _death_; but, to restore seven-fold was the _ordinary punishment_, inflicted by their law, for theft; and here, says he, we see, that the extreme necessity _gave no exemption_. This was a piece of such flagrant sophistry on the part of HALE, that he could not find in his heart to send it forth to the world without a qualifying observation; but even this qualifying observation left the sophistry still so shameful, that his editor, Mr. EMLYN, who published the work under authority of the House of Commons, did not think it consistent with his reputation to suffer this passage to go forth unaccompanied with the following remark: "But their (the Jews') ordinary punishment being entirely _pecuniary_, could affect him _only when he was found in a condition to answer it_; and therefore the same reasons which could justify that, can, by no means, be extended to a _corporal_, much less to a _capital_ punishment." Certainly: and this is the fair interpretation of these two verses of the Proverbs. PUFFENDORF, one of the greatest authorities that the world knows anything of, observes, upon the argument built upon this text of Scripture, "It may be objected, that, in Proverbs, chap. vi. verses 30, 31, he is called a _thief_, and pronounced obnoxious to the penalty of theft, who steals to satisfy his hunger; but whoever closely views and considers that text will find that the thief there censured is neither in such _extreme necessity_ as we are now supposing, nor seems to have fallen into his needy condition merely by ill fortune, without his own idleness or default: for the context implies, that he had _a house and goods sufficient_ to make seven-fold restitution; which he might have either sold or pawned; a chapman or creditor being easily to be met with in times of plenty and peace; for we have no grounds to think that the fact there mentioned is supposed to be committed, either in time of war, or upon account of the extraordinary price of provisions." 28. Besides this, I think it is clear that these two verses of the Proverbs do not apply to _one and the same person_; for in the first verse it is said, that men _do not despise_ a thief if he steal to satisfy his soul when he is hungry. How, then, are we to reconcile this with _morality_? Are we not to despise a _thief_? It is clear that the word _thief_ does not apply to the first case; but to the second case only; and that the distinction was here made for the express purpose of preventing the man who took food to relieve his hunger _from being confounded with the thief_. Upon any other interpretation, it makes the passage contain nonsense and immorality; and, indeed, GROTIUS says that the latter text does not apply to the person mentioned in the former. The latter text could not mean a man taking food from necessity. It is _impossible_ that it can mean that; because the man who was starving for want of food _could not have_ seven-fold; _could not have_ any substance in his house. But what are we to think of JUDGE BLACKSTONE, who, in his Book IV., chap. 2, really _garbles_ these texts of Scripture. He clearly saw the effect of the expression, "MEN DO NOT DESPISE;" he saw what an awkward figure these words made, coming before the words "A THIEF;" he saw that, with these words in the text, he could never succeed in making his readers believe that a man ought to be _hanged_ for taking food to save his life. He clearly saw that he could not make men believe that _God had said this_, unless he could, somehow or other, get rid of those words about NOT DESPISING the thief that took victuals when he was hungry. Being, therefore, very much pestered and annoyed by these words about NOT DESPISING, what does he do but fairly _leave them out_! And not only leave them out, but leave out a part of both the verses, keeping in that part of each that suited him, and no more; nay, further, leaving out one word, and putting in another, giving a sense to the whole which he knew well never was intended. He states the passage to be this: "If a thief steal to satisfy his soul when he is hungry, _he_ shall restore seven-fold, _and_ shall give all the substance of his house." No broomstick that ever was handled would have been too heavy or too rough for the shoulders of this dirty-souled man. HALE, with all his desire to make out a case in favour of severity, has given us the words fairly: but this shuffling fellow; this smooth-spoken and mean wretch, who is himself _thief_ enough, God knows, if stealing other men's thoughts and words constitute theft; this intolerably mean reptile has, in the first place, left out the words "_men do not despise_:" then he has left out the words at the beginning of the next text, "_but if he be found_." Then in place of the "_he_," which comes before the words "_shall give_" he puts the word "_and_;" and thus he makes the whole apply to the poor creature that takes to satisfy his soul when he is hungry! He leaves out every mitigating word of the Scripture; and, in his reference, he represents the passage to be in _one_ verse! Perhaps, even in the history of the conduct of crown-lawyers, there is not to be found mention of an act so coolly bloody-minded as this. It has often been said of this BLACKSTONE, that he not only _lied_ himself, but _made others lie_; he has here made, as far as he was able, a liar of King Solomon himself: he has wilfully garbled the Holy Scripture; and that, too, for the manifest purpose of justifying cruelty in courts and judges; for the manifest purpose of justifying the most savage oppression of the poor. 29. After all, HALE has not the courage to send forth this doctrine of his, without allowing that the case of extreme necessity does, "in _some measure_," and "in _particular cases_," and, "by the _tacit_ or _silent_ consent of nations," _hold good_! What a crowd of qualifications is here! With what reluctance he confesses that which all the world knows to be true, that the disciples of JESUS CHRIST pulled off, without leave, the ears of standing corn, and ate them "_being an hungered_." And here are two things to observe upon. In the first place this _corn_ was not what _we call corn_ here in England, or else it would have been very droll sort of stuff to crop off and eat. It was what the Americans call _Indian corn_, what the French call _Turkish corn_; and what is called _corn_ (as being far surpassing all other in excellence) in the Eastern countries where the Scriptures were written. About four or five ears of this corn, of which you strip all the husk off in a minute, are enough for a man's breakfast or dinner; and by about the middle of August this corn is just as wholesome and as efficient as bread. So that, this was _something_ to take and eat without the owner's leave; it was something of value; and observe, that the Pharisees, though so strongly disposed to find fault with everything that was done by Jesus Christ and his disciples, did not find fault of their _taking_ the corn to eat; did not call them _thieves_; did not propose to punish them for _theft_; but found fault of them only for having _plucked the corn on the Sabbath-day_! To pluck the corn was _to do work_, and these severe critics found fault of this working on the Sabbath-day. Then, out comes another fact, which HALE might have noticed if he had chosen it; namely, that our Saviour reminds the Pharisees that "DAVID and his companions, _being an hungered_, entered into the House of God, and did eat the show-bread, to eat which was unlawful in any-body but the priests." Thus, that which would have been _sacrilege_ under any other circumstances; that which would have been one of the most _horrible of crimes against the law of God_, became no crime at all when committed by a person _pressed by hunger_. 30. Nor has JUDGE HALE fairly interpreted the two verses of DEUTERONOMY. He represents the matter thus: that, if you be _passing through_ a vineyard or an olive-yard you may gather and eat, without being deemed a thief. This interpretation would make an Englishman believe that the Scripture allowed of this taking and eating, only where there was a _lawful foot-way_ through the vineyard. This is a very gross misrepresentation of the matter; for if you look at the two texts, you will find, that they say that, "when thou _comest into_;" that is to say, when thou _enterest_ or _goest into_, "thy neighbour's vineyard, then thou mayest eat grapes thy fill at thine own pleasure, but thou shalt not put any in thy vessel;" that is to say, that you should not go and make wine in his vineyard and carry it away. Then in case of the corn, precisely the same law is laid down. You may pluck with your _hand_; but not use the _hook_ or a _sickle_. Nothing can be plainer than this: no distinction can be wiser, nor more just. HALE saw the force of it; and therefore, as these texts made very strongly against him, he does not give them at full length, but gives us a misrepresenting abbreviation. 31. He had, however, too much regard for his reputation to conclude without acknowledging the right of seizing on the provisions of others _at sea_. He allows that private chests may be _broken open_ to prevent men from dying with hunger at sea. He does not stop to tell us why men's lives are _more precious_ on sea than on land. He does not attempt to reconcile these liberties given by the Scripture, and by the maritime laws, with his own hard doctrine. In short, he brings us to this at last: that he will _not acknowledge_, that it is _not theft_ to take another man's goods, without his consent, under any circumstances; but, while he will not acknowledge this, he plainly leaves us to conclude, that no English judge and no English king will _ever punish_ a poor creature that takes victuals to save himself from perishing; and he plainly leaves us to conclude, that it is the _poor-laws_ of England; that it is their existence and _their due execution_, which deprive everybody in England of the right to take food and raiment in case of extreme necessity. 32. Here I agree with him most cordially; and it is because I agree with him in this, that I deprecate the abominable projects of those who would annihilate the poor-laws, seeing that it is those very poor-laws which give, under all circumstances, really legal security _to property_. Without them, cases must frequently arise, which would, according to the law of nature, according to the law of God, and as we shall see before we have done, according to the law of England, bring us into a state, or, at least, bring particular persons into a state, which as far as related to them, would cause the law of nature to _revive_, and to make _all things to be owned in common_. To adhere, then, to these poor-laws; to cause them to be duly executed, to prevent every encroachment upon them, to preserve them as the apple of our eye, are the duty of every Englishman, as far as he has capacity so to do. 33. I have, my friends, cited, as yet, authorities only _on one side_ of this great subject, which it was my wish to discuss in this one Number. I find that to be impossible without leaving undone much more than half my work. I am extremely anxious to cause this matter to be well understood, not only by the working classes, but by the owners of the land and the magistrates. I deem it to be of the greatest possible importance; and, while writing on it, I address myself to you, because I most sincerely declare that I have a greater respect for you than for any other body of persons that I know any thing of. The next Number will conclude the discussion of the subject. The whole will lie in a very small compass. _Sixpence_ only will be the cost of it. It will creep about, by degrees, over the whole of this kingdom. All the authorities, all the arguments, will be brought into this small compass; and I do flatter myself that many months will not pass over our heads, before all but misers and madmen will be ashamed to talk of abolishing the poor-rates and of supporting the needy by grants and subscriptions. I am, Your faithful friend and Most obedient servant, WM. COBBETT. NUMBER II. _Bollitree Castle, Herefordshire, 22d Sept. 1826._ MY EXCELLENT FRIENDS, 34. In the last Number, paragraph 33, I told you, that I would, in the present Number, conclude the discussion of the great question of _theft, or no theft_, in a case of taking another's goods without his consent, or against his will, the taker being pressed by extreme necessity. I laid before you; in the last Number, JUDGE HALE'S doctrine upon the subject; and I there mentioned the foul conduct of BLACKSTONE, the author of the "Commentaries on the Laws of England." I will not treat this unprincipled lawyer, this shocking court sycophant; I will not treat him as he has treated King Solomon and the Holy Scriptures; I will not garble, misquote, and belie him, as he garbled, misquoted, and belied them; I will give the whole of the passage to which I allude, and which my readers may find in the Fourth Book of his Commentaries. I request you to read it with great attention; and to compare it, very carefully, with the passage that I have quoted from SIR MATTHEW HALE, which you will find in paragraphs from 19 to 21 inclusive. The passage from BLACKSTONE is as follows: 35. "There is yet another case of necessity, which has occasioned great speculation among the writers upon general law; viz., whether a man in extreme want of food or clothing may justify stealing either, to relieve his present necessities. And this both GROTIUS and PUFFENDORF, together with _many other_ of the foreign jurists, hold in the affirmative; maintaining by many ingenious, humane, and plausible reasons, that in such cases the community of goods by a kind of tacit concession of society is revived. And some even of our own lawyers have held the same; though it seems to be an unwarranted doctrine, borrowed from the notions of some civilians: at least it is now antiquated, the law of England admitting no such excuse at present. And this its doctrine is agreeable not only to the sentiments of many of the wisest ancients, particularly CICERO, who holds that 'suum cuique incommodum ferendum est, potius quam de alterius commodis detrahendum;' but also to the Jewish law, as certified by King Solomon himself: 'If a thief steal to satisfy his soul when he is hungry, he shall restore seven-fold, and shall give all the substance of his house:' which was the ordinary punishment for theft in that kingdom. And this is founded upon the highest reason: for men's properties would be under a strange insecurity, if liable to be invaded according to the wants of others; of which wants no man can possibly be an adequate judge, but the party himself who pleads them. In this country especially, there would be a peculiar impropriety in admitting so dubious an excuse; for by our laws such a sufficient provision is made for the poor by the power of the civil magistrate, that it is impossible that the most needy stranger should ever be reduced to the necessity of thieving to support nature. This case of a stranger is, by the way, the strongest instance put by Baron PUFFENDORF, and whereon he builds his principal arguments; which, however they may hold upon the continent, where the parsimonious industry of the natives orders every one to work or starve, yet must lose all their weight and efficacy in England, where _charity is reduced to a system, and interwoven in our very constitution_. Therefore, our laws ought by no means to be taxed with being _unmerciful_, for denying this privilege to the necessitous; especially when we consider, that the king, on the representation of his ministers of justice, hath a power to soften the law, and to extend mercy in cases of peculiar hardship. An advantage which is wanting in many states, particularly those which are democratical: and these have in its stead introduced and adopted, in the body of the law itself, a multitude of circumstances tending to alleviate its rigour. But the founders of our constitution thought it better to vest in the crown the power of pardoning peculiar objects of compassion, than to countenance and establish theft by one general undistinguishing law." 36. First of all, I beg you to observe, that this passage is merely _a flagrant act of theft_, committed upon JUDGE HALE; next, you perceive, that which I noticed in paragraph 28, a most base and impudent garbling of the Scriptures. Next, you see, that BLACKSTONE, like HALE, comes, at last, to the _poor-laws_; and tells us that to take other men's goods without leave, is theft, _because_ "charity is here reduced to a system, and interwoven in our very constitution." That is to say, to relieve the necessitous; to prevent their suffering from want; completely to render starvation impossible, makes a part of our very constitution. "THEREFORE, our laws ought by no means to be taxed with being _unmerciful_ for denying this privilege to the necessitous." Pray mark the word _therefore_. You see, our laws, he says, are not to be taxed with being unmerciful in deeming the necessitous taker _a thief_. And _why_ are they not to be deemed unmerciful? BECAUSE the laws provide effectual relief for the necessitous. It follows, then, of course, even according to BLACKSTONE himself, that if the Constitution _had not_ provided this effectual relief for the necessitous, then the laws _would have been unmerciful_ in deeming the necessitous taker a thief. 37. But now let us hear what that GROTIUS and that PUFFENDORF say; let us hear what these great writers on the law of nature and of nations say upon this subject. BLACKSTONE has mentioned the names of them both; but he has not thought proper to notice their arguments, much less has he attempted to answer them. They are two of the most celebrated men that ever wrote; and their writings are referred to as high authority, with regard to all the subjects of which they have treated. The following is a passage from GROTIUS, on War and Peace, Book II., chap. 2. 38. "Let us see, further, what common right there appertains to men in those things which have already become the property of individuals. Some persons, perchance, may consider it strange to question this, as proprietorship seems to have absorbed all that right which arose out of a state of things in common. But it is not so. For, it is to be considered, _what was the intention of those who first introduced private property_, which we may suppose to have been such, as to deviate as little as possible from _natural equity_. For if even _written laws_ are to be construed in that sense, as far as it is practicable, much more so are _customs_, which are not fettered by the chains of writers.--Hence it follows, first, that, in case of _extreme necessity_, the _pristine right of using things revives_, as much as if they had remained in common; because, in all human laws, as well as in the law of private property, _this case of extreme necessity appears to have been excepted_.--So, if the means of sustenance, as in case of a sea-voyage, should chance to fail, that which any individual may have, should be shared in common. And thus, a fire having broken out, I am justified in destroying the house of my neighbour, in order to preserve my own house; and I may cut in two the ropes or cords amongst which any ship is driven, if it cannot be otherwise disentangled. All which exceptions are not made in the written law, but are presumed.--For the opinion has been acknowledged amongst Divines, that, if any one, in such case of necessity, take from another person what is requisite for the preservation of his life, _he does not commit a theft_. The meaning of which definition is not, as many contend, that the proprietor of the thing be bound to give to the needy upon the principle of _charity_; but, that all things distinctly vested in proprietors ought to be regarded as such _with a certain benign acknowledgment of the primitive right_. For if the original distributors of things were questioned, as to what they thought about this matter, they would reply what I have said. _Necessity_, says Father SENECA, _the great excuse for human weakness, breaks every law_; that is to say, _human law_, or law made after the manner of man." 39. "But cautions ought to be had, for fear this license should be abused: of which the principal is, to try, in every way, whether the necessity can be avoided by any other means; for instance, by making application to the magistrate, or even by trying whether the use of the thing can, by entreaties, be obtained from the proprietor. PLATO permits water to be fetched from the well of a neighbour upon this condition alone, that the person asking for such permission shall dig in his own well in search of water as far as the chalk: and SOLON, that he shall dig in his own well as far as forty cubits. Upon which PLUTARCH adds, _that he judged that necessity was to be relieved, not laziness to be encouraged_." 40. Such is the doctrine of this celebrated civilian. Let us now hear PUFFENDORF; and you will please to bear in mind, that both these writers are of the greatest authority upon all subjects connected with the laws of nature and of nations. We read in their works the result of an age of study: they have been two of the great guides of mankind ever since they wrote: and, we are not to throw them aside, in order to listen exclusively to Parson HAY, to HULTON OF HULTON, or to NICHOLAS GRIMSHAW. They tell us what they, and what other wise men, deemed to be right; and, as we shall by and by see, the laws of England, so justly boasted of by our ancestors, hold precisely the same language with these celebrated men. After the following passage from PUFFENDORF, I shall show you what our own lawyers say upon the subject; but I request you to read the following passage with the greatest attention. 41. "Let us inquire, in the next place, whether the necessity of preserving our life can give us any right over other men's goods, so as to make it allowable for us to seize on them for our relief, either secretly, or by open force, against the owner's consent. For the more clear and solid determination of which point, we think it necessary to hint in short on the causes upon which distinct _properties_ were first introduced in the world; designing to examine them more at large in their proper place. Now the main reasons on which _properties_ are founded, we take to be these two; that the feuds and quarrels might be appeased which arose in the _primitive communion_ of things, and that men might be put under a kind of necessity of being industrious, every one being to get his maintenance by his own application and labour. This division, therefore, of goods, was not made, that every person should sit idly brooding over the share of wealth he had got, without assisting or serving his fellows; but that any one might dispose of his things how he pleased; and if he thought fit to communicate them to others, he might, at least, be thus furnished with an opportunity of laying obligations on the rest of mankind. Hence, when properties were once established, men obtained a power, not only of exercising commerce to their mutual advantage and gain, but likewise of dispensing more largely in the works of humanity and beneficence; whence their diligence had procured them a greater share of goods than others: whereas before, when all things lay in common, men could lend one another no assistance but what was supplied by their corporeal ability, and could be charitable of nothing but of their _strength_. Further, such is the force of _property_, that the _proprietor_ hath a right of delivering his goods with his own hands; even such as he is obliged to give to others. Whence it follows, that when one man has anything owing from another, he is not presently to seize on it at a venture, but ought to apply himself to the owner, desiring to receive it from his disposal. Yet in case the other party refuse thus to make good his obligation, the power and privilege of _property_ doth not reach so far as that the things may not be taken away without the owner's consent, either by the authority of the magistrate in _civil communities_, or in a _state of nature_, by violence and hostile force. And though in regard to bare Natural Right, for a man to relieve another in extremity with his goods, for which he himself hath not so much occasion, be a duty obliging only _imperfectly_, and not in the manner of a _debt_, since it arises wholly from the virtue of _humanity_; yet there seems to be no reason why, by the additional force of a civil ordinance, it may not be turned into a strict and perfect obligation. And this _Seldon_ observes to have been done among the _Jews_; who, upon a man's refusing to give such alms as were proper for him, _could force him to it by an action at law_. It is no wonder, therefore, that they should forbid _their poor_, on any account, to seize on the goods of others, enjoining them to take only what private persons, or the public officers, or stewards of alms, should give them on their petition. Whence the stealing of what was another's, though upon extreme necessity, passed in that state for theft or rapine. But now supposing _under another government the like good provision is not made for persons in want_, supposing likewise that the covetous temper of men of substance cannot be prevailed on to give relief, and that the needy creature is not able, either by his work or service, or by making sale of anything that he possesses, to assist his present necessity, _must_ he, _therefore, perish with famine_? Or _can any human institution bind me_ with such a force that, in case another man neglects his duty towards me, _I must rather die, than recede a little from the ordinary and regular way of acting_? We conceive, therefore, that such a person doth _not contract the guilt of theft_, who happening, not through his own fault, to be in extreme want, either of necessary food, or of clothes to preserve him from the violence of the weather, and cannot obtain them from the voluntary gift of the rich, either by urgent entreaties, or by offering somewhat equivalent in price, or by engaging _to work it out, shall either forcibly or privily relieve himself out of their abundance_; especially if he do it with full intention to pay the value of them whenever his better fortune gives him ability. Some men deny that such a case of _necessity_, as we speak of, can possibly happen. But what if a man should wander in a foreign land, unknown, friendless, and in want, spoiled of all he had by shipwreck, or by robbers, or having lost by some casualty whatever he was worth in his own country; should none be found willing either to relieve his distress, or to hire his service, or should they rather (as it commonly happens,) seeing him in a good garb, suspect him to beg without reason, must the poor creature starve in this miserable condition?" 42. Many other great foreign authorities might be referred to, and I cannot help mentioning COVARRUVIUS, who is spoken of by JUDGE HALE, and who expresses himself upon the subject in these words: "The reason why a man in extreme necessity may, _without incurring the guilt of theft or rapine_, forcibly take the goods of others for his present relief, is because his condition _renders all things common_. For it is the ordinance and institution of nature itself, that inferior things should be designed and directed to serve the necessities of men. Wherefore the division of goods afterwards introduced into the world doth not derogate from that precept of natural reason, which Suggests, that the _extreme wants of mankind may be in any manner removed by the use of temporal possessions_." PUFFENDORF tells us, that PERESIUS maintains, that, in case of extreme necessity, a man is compelled to the action, by a force which he cannot resist; and then, that the owner's consent may be presumed on, because humanity obliges him to succour those who are in distress. The same writer cites a passage from St. AMBROSE, one of the FATHERS of the church, which alleges that (in case of refusing to give to persons in extreme necessity) it is the person who retains the goods who is guilty of the act of wrong doing, for St. AMBROSE says; "it is the _bread of the hungry_ which you detain; it is the _raiment of the naked_ which you lock up." 43. Before I come to the English authorities on the same side, let me again notice the foul dealing of Blackstone; let me point out another instance or two of the insincerity of this English court-sycophant, who was, let it be noted, Solicitor-general to the queen of the "good old King." You have seen, in paragraph 28, a most flagrant instance of his perversion of the Scriptures. He garbles the word of God, and prefaces the garbling by calling it a thing "_certified_ by King Solomon himself;" and this word _certified_ he makes use of just when he is about to begin the scandalous falsification of the text which he is referring to. Never was anything more base. But, the whole extent of the baseness we have not yet seen; for, BLACKSTONE had read HALE, who had quoted the two verses fairly; but besides this, he had read PUFFENDORF, who had noticed very fully this text of Scripture, and who had shown very clearly that it did not at all make in favour of the doctrine of Blackstone. Blackstone ought to have given the argument of PUFFENDORF; he ought to have given the whole of his argument; but particularly he ought to have given this explanation of the passage in the PROVERBS, which explanation I have inserted in paragraph 27. It was also the height of insincerity in BLACKSTONE, to pretend that the passage from CICERO had anything at all to do with the matter. He knew well that it had not; he knew that CICERO contemplated no case of extreme necessity for want of food or clothing; but, he had read PUFFENDORF, and PUFFENDORF had told him, that CICERO'S was a question of the mere _conveniences_ and _inconveniences_ of life in general; and not a question of pinching hunger or shivering nakedness. BLACKSTONE had seen his fallacy exposed by PUFFENDORF; he had seen the misapplication of this passage of CICERO fully exposed by PUFFENDORF; and yet the base court-sycophant trumped it up again, without mentioning PUFFENDORF'S exposure of the fallacy! In short this BLACKSTONE, upon this occasion, as upon almost all others, has gone all lengths; has set detection and reproof at defiance, for the sake of making his court to the government by inculcating harshness in the application of the law, and by giving to the law such an interpretation as would naturally tend to justify that harshness. 44. Let us now cast away from us this insincere sycophant, and turn to other law authorities of our own country. The _Mirrour of Justices_, (quoted by me in paragraph 14,) Chap. 4, Section 16, on the subject of arrest of judgment of death, has this passage. Judgment is to be staid in seven cases here specified: and the seventh is this: "in POVERTY, in which case you are to distinguish of the poverty of the offender, or of things; for if poor people, _to avoid famine, take victuals to sustain their lives, or clothes that they die not of cold_, (so that they perish if they keep not themselves from cold,) _they are not to be adjudged to death, if it were not in their power to have bought their victuals or clothes_; for as much as _they are warranted so to do by the law of nature_." Now, my friends, you will observe, that I take this from a book which may almost be called the BIBLE of the law. There is no lawyer who will deny the goodness of this authority; or who will attempt to say that this was not always the law of England. 45. Our next authority is one quite as authentic, and almost as ancient. The book goes by the name of BRITTON, which was the name of a Bishop of Hereford, who edited it, in the famous reign of EDWARD THE FIRST. The book does, in fact, contain the laws of the kingdom as they existed at that time. It may be called the record of the laws of Edward the First. It begins thus, "Edward by the grace of God, King of England and Lord of Ireland, to all his liege subjects, peace, and grace of salvation." The preamble goes on to state, that people cannot be happy without good laws; that even good laws are of no use unless they be known and understood; and that, therefore, the king has ordered the laws of England thus to be written and recorded. This book is very well known to be of the greatest authority, amongst lawyers, and in Chap. 10 of this book, in which the law describes what constitutes a BURGLAR, or house-breaker, and the punishment that he shall suffer (which is that of death,) there is this passage: "Those are to be deemed burglars who feloniously, in time of peace, break into churches or houses, or through walls or doors of our cities, or our boroughs; with _exception_ of children under age, and of _poor people who for hunger, enter to take any sort of victuals of less value than twelve pence_; and except idiots and mad people, and others that cannot commit felony." Thus, you see, this agrees with the MIRROUR OF JUSTICES, and with all that we have read before from these numerous high authorities. But this, taken in its full latitude, goes a great length indeed; for a burglar is a _breaker-in by night_. So that this is not only _a taking_; but a breaking into a house in order to take! And observe, it is taking to the value of _twelve pence_; and twelve pence then was the price of _a couple of sheep_, and of fine fat sheep too; nay, twelve pence was the price of _an ox_, in this very reign of Edward the First. So that, a hungry man might have a pretty good belly-full in those days without running the risk of punishment. Observe, by-the-by, how time has hardened the law. We are told of the _dark ages_, of the _barbarous customs_, of our forefathers: and we have a SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH to receive and to present petitions innumerable, from the most tender hearted creatures in the world, about "_softening the criminal code_;" but, not a word do they ever say about a softening of _this law_, which now hangs a man for stealing the value of a RABBIT, and which formerly did not hang him till he stole the value of an OX! Curious enough, but still more scandalous, that we should have the impudence to talk of our _humanity_, and our _civilization_, and of the barbarousness of our forefathers. But, if a _part_ of the ancient law remain, shall not the _whole_ of it remain? If we hang the thief, still hang the thief for stealing to the value of _twelve pence_; though the twelve pence now represents a rabbit instead of an ox; if we still do this, would BLACKSTONE take away the benefit of the ancient law from the starving man? The passage that I have quoted is of such great importance as to this question, that I think it necessary to add, here, a copy of the original, which is in the old _Norman-French_, of which I give the translation above. "Sunt tenus burgessours trestous ceux, que felonisement en temps de pees debrusent esglises ou auter mesons, ou murs, ou portes de nos cytes, ou de nos burghes; hors pris enfauntz dedans age, et poures, que, pur feyn, entrêt pur ascun vitaille de meindre value q'de xii deners, et hors pris fous nastres, et gens arrages, et autres que seuent nule felonie faire." 46. After this, _lawyers_, at any rate, will not attempt to gainsay. If there should, however, remain any one to affect to doubt of the soundness of this doctrine, let them take the following from him who is always called the "_pride of philosophy_," the "_pride of English learning_," and whom the poet POPE calls "_greatest_ and _wisest_ of mankind." It is LORD BACON of whom I am speaking. He was Lord High Chancellor in the reign of James the First; and, let it be observed, that he wrote those "_law tracts_," from which I am about to quote, long after the present poor-laws had been established. He says (Law Tracts, page 55,) "The law chargeth no man with default where the act is compulsory and not voluntary, and where there is not consent and election; and, therefore, if either there be an impossibility for a man to do otherwise, or so great a perturbation of the judgment and reason, as in presumption of law a man's nature cannot overcome, such necessity carrieth a privilege in itself.--Necessity is of three sorts: necessity of conservation of life; necessity of obedience; and necessity of the act of God or of a stranger.--First, of conservation of life; _if a man steal viands (victuals) to satisfy his present hunger_, this is _no felony_ nor _larceny_." 47. If any man want more authority, his heart must be hard indeed; he must have an uncommonly anxious desire to take away by the halter the life that sought to preserve itself against hunger. But, after all, what need had we of any _authorities_? What need had we even of _reason_ upon the subject? Who is there upon the face of the earth, except the monsters that come from across the channel of St. George; who is there upon the face of the earth, except those monsters, that have the brass, the hard hearts and the brazen faces, which enable them coolly to talk of the "MERIT" of the degraded creatures, who, amidst an abundance of food, amidst a "_superabundance of food_," lie quietly down and receive the extreme unction, and expire with hunger? Who, upon the face of the whole earth, except these monsters, these ruffians by way of excellence; who, except these, the most insolent and hard-hearted ruffians that ever lived, will contend, or will dare to think, that there ought to be any force under heaven to compel a man to lie down at the door of a baker's and butcher's shop, and expire with hunger! The very nature of man makes him shudder at the thought. There want no authorities; no appeal to law books; no arguments; no questions of right or wrong: that same human nature that tells me that I am not to cut my neighbour's throat, and drink his blood, tells me that I am not to make him die at my feet by keeping from him food or raiment of which I have more than I want for my own preservation. 48. Talk of barbarians, indeed; Talk of "_the dark_ and _barbarous ages_." Why, even in the days of the DRUIDS, such barbarity as that of putting men to death, or of punishing them for taking to relieve their hunger, was never thought of. In the year 1811, the REV. PETER ROBERTS, A. M. published a book, entitled COLLECTANEA CAMBRICA. In the first volume of that book, there is an account of the laws of the ANCIENT BRITONS. Hume, and other Scotchmen, would make us believe, that the ancient inhabitants of this country were a set of savages, clothed in skins and the like. The laws of this people were collected and put into writing, in the year 694 _before Christ_. The following extract from these laws shows, that the moment civil society began to exist, that moment the law _took care that people should not be starved to death_. That moment it took care, that provision should be made for the destitute, or that, in cases of extreme necessity, men were to preserve themselves from death by taking from those who had to spare. The words of these laws (as applicable to our case) given by Mr. ROBERTS, are as follows:--"There are three distinct kinds of personal individual property, which cannot be shared with another, or surrendered in payment of fine; viz., a wife, a child, and argyfrew. By the word _argyfrew_ is meant, clothes, arms, or the implements of a lawful calling. For without these a man has not the means of support, and it would be _unjust_ in the law to _unman_ a man, or to _uncall_ a man as to his calling." TRIAD 53d.--"Three kinds of THIEVES are not to be punished with DEATH. 1. A wife, who joins with her husband in theft. 2. A youth under age. And 3. One who, after he has _asked, in vain_, for support, in _three towns_, and at _nine houses_ in each town." TRIAD 137. 49. There were, then, _houses_ and _towns_, it seems; and the towns were pretty thickly spread too; and, as to "_civilization_" and "_refinement_," let this law relative to a _youth under age_, be compared with the new _orchard and garden law_, and with the tread-mill affair, and new trespass law! 50. We have a law, called the VAGRANT ACT, to _punish men for begging_. We have a law to punish men for _not working to keep their families_. Now, with what show of justice can these laws be maintained? They are founded upon this; the first, that begging is disgraceful to the country; that it is degrading to the character of man, and, of course, to the character of an Englishman; and, that there is no necessity for begging, _because the law has made ample provision for every person in distress_. The law for punishing men for not working to maintain their families is founded on this, that they are _doing wrong to their neighbours_; their neighbours, that is to say, the parish, being _bound to keep the family_, if they be not kept by the man's labour; and, therefore, his not labouring is _a wrong done to the parish_. The same may be said with regard to the punishment for not maintaining bastard children. There is some reason for these laws, as long as the poor-laws are duly executed; as long as the poor are duly relieved, according to law; but, unless the poor-laws exist; unless they be in full force; unless they be duly executed; unless efficient and prompt relief be given to necessitous persons, these acts, and many others approaching to a similar description, are acts of barefaced and most abominable tyranny. I should say that they _would be_ acts of such tyranny; for generally speaking, the poor-laws are, as yet, fairly executed, and efficient as to their object. 51. The law of this country is, that every man, able to carry arms, is liable to be called on, to serve in the militia, or to serve as a soldier in some way or other, _in order to defend the country_. What, then, the man has _no land_; he has _no property_ beyond his mere body, and clothes, and tools; he has nothing that an enemy can take away from him. What _justice_ is there, then, in calling upon this man to take up arms and _risk his life_ in the _defence of the land_: what is the land to him? I _say_, that it is something to him; I _say_, that he ought to be called forth to assist to defend the land; because, however poor he may be, _he has a share in the land_, through the poor-rates; and if he be liable to be called forth to defend the land, _the land is always liable to be taxed for his support_. This is what _I say_: my opinions are consistent with reason, with justice, and with the law of the land; but, how can MALTHUS and his silly and _nasty_ disciples; how can those who want to abolish the poor-rates or to prevent the poor from marrying; how can this at once stupid and conceited tribe look the labouring man in the face, while they call upon him to take up arms, to risk his life, in defence of the land? Grant that the poor-laws are just; grant that every necessitous creature has a right to demand relief from some parish or other; grant that the law has most effectually provided that every man shall be protected against the effects of hunger and of cold; grant these, and then the law which compels the man without house or land to take up arms and risk his life in defence of the country, is a perfectly just law; but, deny to the necessitous that legal and certain relief of which I have been speaking; abolish the poor laws; and then this military-service law becomes an act of a character such as I defy any pen or tongue to describe. 52. To say another word upon the subject is certainly unnecessary; but we live in days when "_stern necessity_" has so often been pleaded for most flagrant departures from the law of the land, that one cannot help asking, whether there were any greater necessity to justify ADDINGTON for his deeds of 1817 than there would be to justify a starving man in taking a loaf? ADDINGTON pleaded _necessity_, and he got a Bill of _Indemnity_. And, shall a starving man be hanged, then, if he take a loaf to save himself from dying? When SIX ACTS were before the Parliament, the proposers and supporters of them never pretended that they did not embrace a most dreadful departure from the ancient laws of the land. In answer to LORD HOLLAND, who had dwelt forcibly on this departure from the ancient law, the Lord Chancellor, unable to contradict LORD HOLLAND, exclaimed, "_Salus populi suprema lex_," that is to say "_The salvation of the people is the first law_." Well, then, if the salvation of the people be the first law, the _salvation of life_ is really and bona fide the salvation of the people; and, if the ordinary laws may be dispensed with, in order to obviate a possible and speculative danger, surely they may be dispensed with, in cases where to dispense with them is visibly, demonstrably, notoriously, necessary to the salvation of _the lives_ of the people: surely, bread is as necessary to the lips of the starving man, as a new law could be necessary to prevent either house of parliament from being brought into _contempt_; and surely, therefore, _Salus populi suprema lex_ may come from the lips of the famishing people with as much propriety as they came from those of the Lord Chancellor! 53. Again, however, I observe, and with this I conclude, that we have nothing to do but to adhere to the poor-laws which we have; that the poor have nothing to do, but to apply to the overseer, or to appeal from him to the magistrate; that the magistrate has nothing to do but duly to enforce the law; and that the government has nothing to do, in order to secure the peace of the country, amidst all the difficulties that are approaching, great and numerous as they are; that it has nothing to do, but to enjoin on the magistrates to do their duty according to our excellent law; and, at the same time, the government ought to discourage, by all the means in their power, all projects for maintaining the poor _by any other than legal means_; to discourage all begging-box affairs; all miserable expedients; and also to discourage, and, where it is possible, fix its mark of reprobation upon all those detestable projectors, who are hatching schemes for what is called, in the blasphemous slang of the day, "_checking the surplus population_" who are hatching schemes for _preventing the labouring people from having children_: who are about spreading their nasty beastly publications; who are hatching schemes of _emigration_; and who, in short, seem to be doing every-thing in their power to widen the fearful breach that has already been made between the poor and the rich. The government has nothing to do but to cause the law to be honestly enforced; and then we shall see no starvation, and none of those dreadful conflicts which the fear of want, as well as actual want, never fail to produce. The bare thought of _forced emigration_ to a foreign state, including, as it must, a _transfer of all allegiance_, which is contrary to the fundamental laws of England; or, exposing every emigrating person to the danger of committing _high treason_; the very thought of such a measure, _having become necessary in England_, is enough to make an Englishman mad. But, of these projects, these scandalous nasty beastly and shameless projects, we shall have time to speak hereafter; and in the mean while, I take my leave of you, for the present, by expressing my admiration of the sensible and spirited conduct of the people of STOCKPORT, when an attempt was, on the 5th of September, made to cheat them into an address, _applauding the conduct of the Ministers_! What! Had the people of STOCKPORT so soon forgotten _16th of August_! Had they so soon forgotten their townsman, JOSEPH SWAN! If they had, they would have deserved to perish to all eternity. Oh, no! It was a proposition _very premature_: it will be quite soon enough for the good and sensible and spirited fellows of STOCKPORT; quite soon enough to address the Ministers, when the Ministers shall have proposed a repeal of the several Jubilee measures, called Ellenborough's law; the poacher-transporting law; the sun-set and sun-rise transportation law; the tread-mill law; the select-vestry law; the Sunday-toll laws; the new trespass law; the new treason law; the seducing-soldier-hanging law; the new apple-felony law; the SIX ACTS; and a great number of others, passed in the reign of Jubilee. Quite soon enough to applaud, that is, for the sensible people of STOCKPORT to applaud, the Ministers, when those Ministers have proposed to repeal these laws, and, also, to repeal the _malt tax_, and _those other taxes_, which take, even from the pauper, one half of what the parish gives him to keep the breath warm in his body. Quite soon enough to applaud the Ministers, when they have done these things; and when in addition to all these, they shall have openly proposed _a radical reform of the Commons House of Parliament_. Leaving them to do this as soon as they like, and trusting, that you will never, on any account, applaud them until they do it, I, expressing here my best thanks to Mr. BLACKSHAW, who defeated the slavish scheme at Stockport, remain, Your faithful friend, and most obedient servant, WM. COBBETT. NUMBER III. _Hurstbourne Tarrant (called Uphusband,)_ _Hants, 13th October, 1826._ MY EXCELLENT FRIENDS, 54. In the foregoing Numbers, I have shown, that men can never be so poor as to have no rights at all: and that, in England, they have a legal, as well as a natural, _right_ to be maintained, if they be destitute of other means, out of the lands, or other property, of the rich. But, it is an interesting question, HOW THERE CAME TO BE SO MUCH POVERTY AND MISERY IN ENGLAND. This is a very interesting question; for, though it is the doom of man, that he shall never be certain of any-thing, and that he shall never be beyond the reach of calamity; though there always has been, and always will be, poor people in every nation; though this circumstance of poverty is inseparable from the means which uphold communities of men; though, without poverty, there could be _no charity_, and none of those feelings, those offices, those acts, and those relationships, which are connected with charity, and which form a considerable portion of the cement of civil society: yet, notwithstanding these things, there are bounds beyond which the poverty of the people cannot go, without becoming a thing to complain of, and to trace to the Government as a fault. Those bounds have been passed, in England, long and long ago. England was always famed for many things; but especially for its _good living_; that is to say, for the _plenty_ in which the whole of the people lived; for the abundance of good clothing and good food which they had. It was always, ever since it _bore the name of England_, the richest and most powerful and most admired country in Europe; but, its _good living_, its superiority in this particular respect, was proverbial amongst all who knew, or who had heard talk of, the English nation. Good God! How changed! Now, the very worst fed and worst clad people upon the face of the earth, those of Ireland only excepted. _How, then, did this horrible, this disgraceful, this cruel poverty come upon this once happy nation?_ This, my good friends of Preston, is, to us all, a most important question; and, now let us endeavour to obtain a full and complete answer to it. 55. POVERTY is, after all, the great badge, the never-failing badge, of slavery. Bare bones and rags are the true marks of the real slave. What is the object of Government? To cause men to live _happily_. They cannot be happy without a sufficiency of _food_ and of _raiment_. Good government means a state of things in which the main body are well fed and well clothed. It is the chief business of a government to take care, that one part of the people do not cause the other part to lead miserable lives. There can be no morality, no virtue, no sincerity, no honesty, amongst a people continually suffering from want; and, it is cruel, in the last degree, to punish such people for almost any sort of crime, which is, in fact, not crime of the heart, not crime of the perpetrator, but the crime of his all-controlling necessities.--To what degree the main body of the people, in England, _are now_ poor and miserable; how deplorably wretched they now are; this we know but too well; and now, we will see what was their state before this vaunted "REFORMATION." I shall be very particular to cite my _authorities_ here. I will _infer_ nothing; I will give no "_estimate_;" but refer to authorities, such as no man can call in question, such as no man can deny to be proofs _more_ complete than if founded on oaths of credible witnesses, taken before a judge and jury. I shall begin with the account which FORTESCUE gives of the state and manner of living of the English, in the reign of Henry VI.; that is, in the 15th century, when the Catholic Church was in the height of its glory. FORTESCUE was Lord Chief Justice of England for nearly twenty years; he was appointed Lord High Chancellor by Henry VI. Being in exile, in France, in consequence of the wars between the Houses of York and Lancaster, and the King's son, Prince Edward, being also in exile with him, the Chancellor wrote a series of Letters, addressed to the Prince, to explain to him the nature and effects of the Laws of England, and to induce him to study them and uphold them. This work, which was written in Latin, is called _De Laudibus Legum Angliæ_; or, PRAISE OF THE LAWS OF ENGLAND. This book was, many years ago, translated into English, and it is a book of Law-Authority, quoted frequently in our courts of this day. No man can doubt the truth of _facts_ related in such a work. It was a work written by a famous lawyer for a prince; it was intended to be read by other contemporary lawyers, and also by all lawyers in future. The passage that I am about to quote, relating to the state of the English, was _purely incidental_; it was not intended to answer any temporary purpose. It _must have been a true account_.--The Chancellor, after speaking generally of the nature of the laws of England, and of the difference between them and the laws of France, proceeds to show the difference in their effects, by a description of the state of the French people, and then by a description of the state of the English. His words, words that, as I transcribe them, make my cheeks burn with shame, are as follows: "Besides all this, the inhabitants of France give every year to their King the _fourth part_ of all their _wines_, the growth of that year, every vintner gives the fourth penny of what he makes of his wine by sale. And all the towns and boroughs pay to the King yearly great sums of money, which are assessed upon them, for the expenses of his men at arms. So that the King's troops, which are always considerable, are substituted and paid yearly by those common people, who live in the villages, boroughs, and cities. Another grievance is, every village constantly finds and maintains two _cross-bow-men_, at the least; some find more, well arrayed in all their accoutrements, to serve the King in his wars, as often as he pleaseth to call them out, which is frequently done. Without any consideration had of these things, other very heavy taxes are assessed yearly upon every village within the kingdom, for the King's service; _neither is there ever any intermission or abatement of taxes_. Exposed to these and other calamities, the peasants live in great hardship and misery. Their _constant drink is water_, neither do they taste, throughout the year, any other liquor, unless upon some extraordinary times, or festival days. Their clothing consists of _frocks_, or little short _jerkins_, made of canvass, no better than common _sackcloth_; they _do not wear any woollens_, except of the _coarsest sort_; and that only in the garment under their frocks; nor do they wear any trowse, but from the knees upwards; their legs being exposed and naked. The women go barefoot, except on holidays. They do _not eat flesh_, except it be the fat of bacon, and _that in very small quantities_, with which they make _a soup_. Of other sorts, either boiled or roasted, _they do not so much as taste_, unless it be of the inwards and offals of sheep and bullocks, and the like which are killed, for the use of the better sort of people, _and the merchants_; for whom also quails, _partridges_, _hares_, and the like, _are reserved, upon pain of the gallies_; as for their poultry, _the soldiers consume them_, so that scarce the eggs, slight as they are, are indulged them, by way of a dainty. And if it happen that a man is observed to thrive in the world, and become rich, he is _presently assessed to the King's tax_, proportionably more than his poorer neighbours, _whereby he is soon reduced to a level with the rest_." Then comes his description of the ENGLISH, at the same time; those "priest-ridden" English, whom CHALMERS and HUME, and the rest of that tribe, would fain have us believe, were a mere band of wretched beggars.--"The King of England cannot alter the laws, or make new ones, without the express consent of _the whole kingdom in Parliament assembled_. Every inhabitant is at his liberty fully to use and enjoy whatever his farm produceth, the fruits of the earth, the increase of his flock, and the like: all the improvements he makes, whether by his own proper industry, or of those he retains in his service, are his own, to use and enjoy, without the let, interruption, or denial of any. If he be in anywise injured or oppressed, he shall have his amends and satisfactions against the party offending. Hence it is that the inhabitants are _rich in gold, silver_, and in all the necessaries and conveniences of life. _They drink no water_, unless at certain times, upon _a religious score_, and by way of doing penance. They _are fed, in great abundance_, with _all sorts of flesh_ and _fish_, of which _they have plenty every-where_; they are _clothed throughout in good woollens_; their bedding and other furniture in their houses _are of wool_, and that _in great store_. They are also well provided with all other sorts of household goods and necessary implements for husbandry. Every one, according to his rank, hath _all things which conduce to make life easy and happy_."--Go, and read this to the poor souls, who are now eating sea-weed in Ireland; who are detected in robbing the pig-troughs in Yorkshire; who are eating horse-flesh and grains (draff) in Lancashire and Cheshire; who are harnessed like horses, and drawing gravel in Hampshire and Sussex; who have 3_d._ a day allowed them by the magistrates in Norfolk; who are, all over England, worse fed than the _felons_ in the jails. Go, and tell them, when they raise their hands from the pig-trough, or from the grains-tub, and, with their dirty tongues, cry "_No Popery_;" go, read to the degraded and deluded wretches, this account of the state of their _Catholic_ forefathers, who lived under what is impudently called "_Popish superstition and tyranny_," and in those times which we have the audacity to call "_the dark ages_."--Look at the _then_ picture of the French; and, Protestant Englishmen, if you have the capacity of blushing left, blush at the thought of how precisely that picture fits the English _now_! Look at _all the parts_ of the picture; the _food_, the _raiment_, the _game_! Good God! If any one had told the old Chancellor, that the day would come, when this picture, and even a picture more degrading to human nature, would fit his own boasted country, what would he have said? What would he have said, if he had been told, that the time was to come, when the soldier, in England, would have more than twice, nay, more than thrice, the sum allowed to the day-labouring man; when potatoes would be carried to the field as the only food of the ploughman; when soup-shops would be open to feed the English; and when the Judges, sitting on that very Bench on which he himself had sitten for twenty years, would (as in the case of last year of the complaints against Magistrates at NORTHALLERTON) declare that BREAD AND WATER were the general food of working people in England? What would he have said? Why, if he had been told, that there was to be a "REFORMATION," accompanied by a total devastation of Church and Poor property, upheld by wars, creating an enormous Debt and enormous taxes, and requiring a constantly standing army; if he had been told this, he would have foreseen our present state, and would have wept for his country; but, if he had, in addition, been told, that, even in the midst of all this suffering, we should still have the ingratitude and the baseness to cry "_No Popery_," and the injustice and the cruelty to persecute those Englishmen and Irishmen, who adhered to the faith of their pious, moral, brave, free and happy fathers, he would have said, "God's will be done: let them suffer."--But, it may be said, that it was not, then, the _Catholic Church_, but the _Laws_, that made the English so happy; for, the French had that Church as well as the English. Aye! But, in England, the Church was the very _basis of the laws_. The very first clause of MAGNA CHARTA provided for the stability of its property and rights. _A provision for the indigent_, an effectual provision, was made _by the laws_ that related to the Church and its property; and this was not the case in France; and never was the case in any country but this: so that the English people lost more by a "Reformation" than any other people could have lost.--Fortescue's authority would, of itself, be enough; but, I am not to stop with it. WHITE, the late Rector of SELBOURNE, in Hampshire, gives, in his History of that once-famous village, an extract from a record, stating that for disorderly conduct, men were _punished_ by being "compelled to _fast_ a fortnight on _bread and beer_!" This was about the year 1380, in the reign of RICHARD II. Oh! miserable "_dark ages_!" This fact _must be true_. WHITE had no purpose to answer. His mention of the fact, or rather his transcript from the record, is purely _incidental_; and trifling as the fact is, it is conclusive as to the general mode of living in those happy days. Go, tell the harnessed gravel-drawers, in Hampshire, to cry "_No Popery_;" for, that, if the Pope be not put down, he may, in time, compel them to _fast_ on _bread and beer_, instead of suffering them to continue to regale themselves on nice potatoes and pure water.--But, let us come to _Acts of Parliament_, and, first, to the Act above mentioned of KING EDWARD III. That Act fixes the _price of meat_. After naming the four sorts of meat, _beef_, _pork_, _mutton_, and _veal_, the preamble has these words: "These being THE FOOD OF THE POORER SORT." This is conclusive. It is an _incidental_ mention of a fact. It is an Act of Parliament. It _must have been true_; and, it is a fact that we know well, that even the Judges have declared from the Bench, that _bread alone_ is _now the food of the poorer sort_. What do we want more than this to convince us, that the main body of the people have been _impoverished_ by the "Reformation?"--But I will _prove_, by other Acts of Parliament, this Act of Parliament to have spoken truth. These Acts declare what the _wages_ of workmen shall be. There are several such Acts, but one or two may suffice. The Act of 23d of EDW. III. fixes the wages, without food, as follows. There are many other things mentioned, but the following will be enough for our purpose. _s._ _d._ A woman hay-making, or weeding corn, for the day 0 1 A man filling dung-cart 0 3-1/2 A reaper 0 4 Mowing an acre of grass 0 6 Thrashing a quarter of Wheat 0 4 The price of _shoes_, _cloth_, and of _provisions_, throughout the time that this law continued in force, was as follows:-- _L._ _s._ _d._ A pair of shoes 0 0 4 Russet broad-cloth the yard 0 1 1 A stall-fed ox 1 4 0 A grass-fed ox 0 16 0 A fat sheep unshorn 0 1 8 A fat sheep shorn 0 1 2 A fat hog 2 years old 0 3 4 A fat goose 0 0 2-1/2 Ale, the gallon, by proclamation 0 0 1 Wheat the quarter 0 3 4 White wine the gallon 0 0 6 Red wine 0 0 4 These prices are taken from the PRECIOSUM of BISHOP FLEETWOOD, who took them from the accounts kept by the bursers of convents. All the world knows, that FLEETWOOD'S book is of undoubted authority.--We may then easily believe, that "beef, pork, mutton, and veal," were "the food of the _poorer sort_," when a _dung-cart filler_ had more than the price of _a fat goose and a half for a day's work_, and when a woman was allowed, for _a day's weeding_, the price of a _quart of red wine_! Two yards of the cloth made a coat for the _shepherd_; and, as it cost 2_s._ 2_d._, the reaper would earn it _in 6-1/2 days_; and, the dung-cart man would earn very nearly a _pair of shoes every day_! this dung-cart filler would earn a _fat shorn sheep_ in four days; he would earn a _fat hog_, two years old, in twelve days; he would earn a _grass-fed ox_ in twenty days; so that we may easily believe, that "beef, pork, and mutton," were "the food of the _poorer sort_." And, mind, this was "a _priest-ridden people_;" a people "buried in _Popish superstition_!" In our days of "_Protestant light_" and of "_mental enjoyment_," the "poorer sort" are allowed by the Magistrates of Norfolk, 3_d._ a day for a _single man_ able to work. That is to say, a half-penny _less_ than the Catholic dung-cart man had; and that 3_d._ will get the "_No Popery_" gentleman about _six ounces_ of old ewe-mutton, while the Popish dung-cart man got, for his day, rather more than _the quarter of a fat sheep_.--But, the popish people might work _harder_ than "_enlightened_ Protestants." They might do _more work in a day_. This is contrary to all the assertions of the _feelosophers_; for they insist, that the Catholic religion made people _idle_. But, to set this matter at rest, let us look at the price of the _job-labour_; at the _mowing_ by _the acre_, and at the _thrashing_ of wheat by _the quarter_; and let us see how these _wages are now_, compared with the price of food. I have no _parliamentary_ authority since the year 1821, when a report was printed by order of the House of Commons, containing the evidence of Mr. ELLMAN, of Sussex, as to wages, and of Mr. GEORGE, of Norfolk, as to price of wheat. The report was dated 18th June, 1821. The accounts are for 20 years, on an average, from 1800 inclusive. We will now proceed to see how the "popish, priest-ridden" Englishman stands in comparison with the "_No Popery_" Englishman. POPISH MAN. NO POPERY MAN. _s._ _d._ _s._ _d._ Mowing an acre of grass 0 6 3 7-3/4 Thrashing a quarter of Wheat 0 4 4 0 Here are "_waust_ improvements, Mau'm!" But, now let us look at the relative _price of the wheat_, which the labourer had to purchase with his wages. We have seen, that the "popish _superstition slave_" had to give _fivepence_ a bushel for his wheat, and the evidence of Mr. GEORGE states, that the "_enlightened_ Protestant" had to give 10 _shillings_ a bushel for his wheat; that is 24 _times_ as much as the "popish _fool_," who suffered himself to be "priest-ridden." So that the "_enlightened_" man, in order to make him as well off as the "_dark_-ages" man was, ought to receive _twelve shillings_, instead of 3_s._ 7-3/4_d._ for mowing an acre of grass; and he, in like manner, ought to receive, for thrashing a quarter of wheat, _eight shillings_, instead of the _four shillings_ which he does receive. If we had the _records_, we should doubtless find, that IRELAND was in the same state. 56. There! That settles the matter as to _ancient_ good living. Now, as to the progress of poverty and misery, amongst the working people, during the last half century, take these facts; in the year 1771, that is, 55 years ago, ARTHUR YOUNG, who was afterwards Secretary to the Board of Agriculture, published a work on the state of the agriculture of the country, in which he gave the allowance for the keeping of _a farm-labourer, his wife and three children_, which allowance, reckoning according to the present money-price of the articles which he allows amounted to 13_s._ 1_d._ He put the sum, at what he deemed the _lowest possible sum_, on which the people could _exist_. Alas! we shall find, that they can be made to exist upon little more than _one-half_ of this sum! 57. This allowance of Mr. ARTHUR YOUNG was made, observe, in 1771, which was before the Old American War took place. That war made some famous fortunes for admirals and commodores and contractors and pursers and generals and commissaries; but, it was not the Americans, the French, nor the Dutch, that gave the money to make these fortunes. They came out of _English taxes_; and the heaviest part of those taxes fell upon the _working people_, who, when they were boasting of "_victories_," and rejoicing that the "JACK TARS" had got "prize-money," little dreamed that these victories were purchased by them, and that they paid fifty pounds for every crown that sailors got in prize-money! In short, this American war caused a great mass of new taxes to be laid on, and the people of England became _a great deal poorer than they ever had been before_. During that war, they BEGAN TO EAT POTATOES, as something to "_save bread_." The poorest of the people, the very poorest of them, refused, for a long while, to use them in this way; and even when I was ten years old, which was just about _fifty years ago_; the poor people would not eat potatoes, except _with meat_, as they would cabbages, or carrots, or any other moist vegetable. But, by the end of the American war, their stomachs had come to! By slow degrees they had been reduced to swallow this pig-meat, (and bad pig-meat too,) not, indeed, without grumbling; but to swallow it; to be reduced, thus, many degrees in the scale of animals. 58. At the end of _twenty-four years_ from the date of ARTHUR YOUNG'S allowance, the poverty and degradation of the English people had made great strides. We were now in the year 1795, and a new war, and a new series of "_victories_ and _prizes_" had begun. But who it was that _suffered_ for these, out of whose blood and flesh and bones they came, the allowance now (in 1795) made to the poor labourers and their families will tell. There was, in that year, a TABLE, or SCALE, of allowance, framed by the Magistrates of Berkshire. This is, by no means, a _hard_ county; and therefore it is reasonable to suppose, that the _scale_ was as good a one for the poor as any in England. According to this scale, which was printed and published, and also acted upon for years, the weekly allowance, for _a man, his wife and three children_, was, according to present money-prices, 11_s._ 4_d._ Thus it had, in the space of twenty-four years, fell from 13_s._ 1_d._ to 11_s._ 4_d._ Thus were the people brought to the _pig-meat_! Food, fit for men, they could not have with 11_s._ 4_d._ a week for five persons. 59. One would have thought, that to make a human being _live_ upon 4_d._ _a day_, and find _fuel_, _clothing_, _rent_, _washing_, and _bedding_, out of the 4_d._, besides eating and drinking, was impossible; and one would have thought it impossible for any-thing not of hellish birth and breeding, to entertain a wish to make poor creatures, and our _neighbours_ too, exist in such a state of horrible misery and degradation as the labourers of England were condemned to by this scale of 1795. Alas! this was happiness and honour; this was famous living; this 11_s._ 4_d._ a week was _luxury_ and _feasting_, compared to what we NOW BEHOLD! For now the allowance, according to present money-prices, is 8_s._ a week for the man, his wife, and three children; that is to say 2-5/7 _d._ In words, TWO PENCE AND FIVE SEVENTHS OF ANOTHER PENNY, FOR A DAY! There, that is England now! That is what the base wretches, who are fattening upon the people's labour, call "the _envy_ of surrounding nations and the _admiration_ of the world." This is what SIR FRANCIS BURDETT applauds; and he applauds the mean and cruel and dastardly ruffians, whom he calls, "the _country gentlemen_ of England," and whose _generosity_ he cries up; while he well knows, _that it is they_ (and he amongst the rest) who are the real and only cause of this devil-like barbarity, which (and he well knows that too) could not possibly be practised without the constant existence and occasional employment of that species of force, which is so abhorrent to the laws of England, and of which this Burdett's son forms a part. The poor creatures, _if they complain_; if their hunger make them _cry out_, are either punished by even harder measures, or are _slapped into prison_. Alas! the jail is really become a place of _relief_, a scene of comparative _good living_: hence the invention of the _tread-mill_! What shall we see next? _Workhouses, badges, hundred-houses, select-vestries, tread-mills, gravel-carts, and harness!_ What shall we see next! And what should we see at last, if this infernal THING could continue for only a few years longer? 60. In order to form a judgment of the cruelty of making our working neighbours live upon 2-5/7_d._ a day; that is to say 2_d._ and rather more than a halfpenny, let us see what the surgeons allow in the hospitals, to patients with _broken limbs_, who, of course, have no _work_ to do, and who cannot even take any _exercise_. In GUY'S HOSPITAL, London, the _daily_ allowance to patients, having _simple fractures_, is this: 6 ounces of meat; 12 ounces of bread; 1 pint of broth; 2 quarts of good beer. This is the _daily_ allowance. Then, in addition to this, the same patient has 12 ounces of butter _a week_. These articles, for a week, amount to not less at present retail prices (and those are the poor man's prices,) than 6_s._ 9_d._ a week; while the working man is allowed 1_s._ 7_d._ a week! For, he cannot and he will not see his wife and children actually drop down dead with hunger before his face; and this is what he must see, if he take to himself more than a _fifth_ of the allowance for the family. 61. Now, pray, observe, that _surgeons_, and particularly those eminent surgeons who frame rules and regulations for great establishments like that of Guy's Hospital, _are competent judges_ of what nature requires in the way of food and of drink. They are, indeed, not only competent judges, but they are the best of judges: they know precisely what is necessary; and having the power to order the proper allowance, they order it. If, then, they make an allowance like that, which we have seen, to a person who is under a regimen for a broken limb; to a person who does _no work_, and who is, nine times out of ten, unable to take any exercise at all, even that of walking about, at least in the open air; if the eminent surgeons of London deem _six shillings and ninepence worth_ of victuals and drink, a week, necessary to such a patient; if they think that _nature calls_ for so much in such a case; what must that man be made of, who can allow to a _working man_, a man fourteen hours every day in the open air, _one shilling and seven pence worth_ of victuals and drink for the week! Let me not however ask what "that _man_" can be made of; for it is a monster and not a man: it is a murderer of men: not a murderer with the knife or the pistol, but with the more cruel instrument of starvation. And yet, such monsters go to _church_ and to _meeting_; aye, and _subscribe_, the base hypocrites, to circulate that Bible which commands _to do as they would be done by_, and which, from the first chapter to the last, menaces them with punishment, if they be hard to the poor, the fatherless, the widow, or the stranger! 62. But, not only is the patient, in a hospital, thus so much more amply fed than the working man; the _prisoners in the jails_; aye, even the _convicted felons_, are fed better, and much better, than the working men now are! Here is a fine "_Old England_;" that country of "roast beef and plumb pudding:" that, as the tax-eaters say it is, "envy of surrounding nations and admiration of the world." Aye; the country WAS all these; but, it is now precisely the reverse of them all. We have just seen that the _honest labouring man_ is allowed 2-5/7_d._ a day; and that will buy him _a pound and a half of good bread a day_, and no more, not a single crumb more. This is all he has. Well enough might the Hampshire Baronet, SIR JOHN POLLEN, lately, at a meeting at Andover, call the labourers "_poor devils_," and say, that they had "_scarcely a rag to cover them_!" A pound and a half of bread a day, and nothing more, and that, too, _to work upon_! Now, then, how fare the prisoners in the jails? Why, if they be CONVICTED FELONS, they are, say the Berkshire jail-regulations, "to have ONLY BREAD and water, _with vegetables_ occasionally from the garden." Here, then, they are already better fed than the honest labouring man. Aye, and this is not all; for, this is only the _week-day_ fare; for, they are to have, "on Sundays, SOME MEAT _and broth_!" Good God! And the honest working man can never, never smell the smell of meat! This is "envy of surrounding nations" with the devil to it! This is a state of things for Burdett to applaud. 63. But we are not even yet come to a sight of the depth of our degradation. These Berkshire jail-regulations make provision for setting the convicted prisoners, in certain cases, TO WORK, and, they say, "if the surgeon think it necessary, the WORKING PRISONERS may be allowed MEAT AND BROTH ON WEEK-DAYS;" and on Sundays, of course! There it is! There is the "envy and admiration!" There is the state to which Mr. Prosperity and Mr. Canning's best Parliament has brought us. There is the result of "_victories_" and prize-money and battles of Waterloo and of English ladies kissing, "Old Blucher." There is the fruit, the natural fruit, of anti-jacobinism and battles on the Serpentine River and jubilees and heaven-born ministers and sinking-funds and "public credit" and army and navy contracts. There is the fruit, the natural, the nearly (but _not quite_) ripe fruit of it all: the CONVICTED FELON is, if he do not work at all, allowed, on week-days, some vegetables in addition to his bread, and, on Sundays, both _meat and broth_; and, if the CONVICTED FELON work, if he be a WORKING convicted felon, he is allowed _meat and broth all the week round_; while, hear it Burdett, thou Berkshire magistrate! hear it, all ye base miscreants who have persecuted men because they sought a reform! The WORKING CONVICTED FELON is allowed _meat and broth every day in the year_, while the WORKING HONEST MAN is allowed _nothing but dry bread_, and of that not half a belly-full! And yet you see the people that seem _surprised_ that _crimes_ increase! Very strange, to be sure; that men should like to _work_ upon meat and broth better than they like to work upon dry bread! No wonder that _new jails_ arise. No wonder that there are now two or three or four or five jails to one county, and that as much is now written upon "_prison discipline_" as upon almost any subject that is going. But, why so good, so generous, to FELONS? The truth is, that they are _not fed too well_; for, to be _starved_ is no part of their sentence; and, here are SURGEONS who have something to say! They know very well that a man may be _murdered_ by keeping necessary food from him. Felons are not apt to lie down and _die quietly_ for want of food. The jails are in _large towns_, where the news of any cruelty soon gets about. So that the felons have many circumstances in their favour. It is in the villages, the recluse villages, where the greatest cruelties are committed. 64. Here, then, in this contrast between the treatment of the WORKING FELON and that of the WORKING HONEST MAN, we have a complete picture of the present state of England; that horrible state, to which, by slow degrees, this once happy country has been brought; and, I should now proceed to show, as I proposed in the first paragraph of this present Number, HOW THERE CAME TO BE SO MUCH POVERTY AND MISERY IN ENGLAND; for, this is the main thing, it being clear, that, if we do not see the real causes of our misery, we shall be very unlikely to adopt any effectual remedy. But, before I enter on this part of my subject, let me _prove_, beyond all possibility of doubt, that what I say relatively to the situation of, and the allowances to, the labourers and their families, IS TRUE. The _cause_ of such situation and allowances I shall show hereafter; but let me first show, by a reference to indubitable facts, that the situation and allowances are such as, or worse than, I have described them. To do this, no way seems to me to be so fair, so likely to be free from error, so likely to produce a suitable impression on the minds of my readers, and so likely to lead to some useful practical result; no way seems to me so well calculated to answer these purposes, as that of taking _the very village, in which, I, at this moment, happen to be_, and to describe, with names and dates, the actual state of its labouring people, as far as that state is connected with steps taken under the poor-laws. 65. This village was in former times a very considerable place, as is manifest from the size of the church as well as from various other circumstances. It is now, as a _church living_, united with an adjoining parish, called VERNON DEAN, which also has its church, at a distance of about three miles from the church of this parish. Both parishes put together now contain only _eleven hundred_, and a few odd, inhabitants, men, women, children, and all; and yet, the _great tithes_ are supposed to be worth _two or three thousand pounds a year_, and the _small tithes_ about _six hundred pounds a year_. Formerly, before the event which is called "THE REFORMATION," there were _two Roman Catholic priests_ living at the parsonage houses in these two parishes. They could not marry, and could, therefore have no wives and families to keep out of the tithes; and, WITH PART OF THOSE TITHES, THEY, AS THE LAW PROVIDED, MAINTAINED THE POOR OF THESE TWO PARISHES; and, the canons of the church commanded them to distribute the portion to the poor and the stranger, "_with their own hands_, in _humility_ and _mercy_." 66. This, as to church and poor, was the state of these villages, in the "_dark ages_" of "_Romish superstition_." What! No poor-laws? No poor-rates? What horribly _unenlightened_ times! No _select vestries_? Dark ages indeed! But, how stands these matters now? Why, the two parishes are moulded into _one church living_. Then the GREAT TITHES (amounting to two or three thousand a year) belong to some part of the _Chapter_ (as they call it) of Salisbury. The Chapter leases them out, as they would a house or a farm, and they are now rented by JOHN KING, who is one of this happy nation's greatest and oldest _pensioners_. So that, _away go_ the great tithes, not leaving a single wheat-ear to be spent in the parish. The SMALL TITHES belong to a VICAR, who is one FISHER, a _nephew of the late bishop of Salisbury_, who has not resided here for a long while; and who has a curate, named JOHN GALE, who being the son of a little farmer and shop-keeper at BURBAGE in Wiltshire, was, by a parson of the name of BAILEY (very _well known and remembered_ in these parts), put to school; and, in the fulness of time, became a _curate_. So that, _away go_ also the small tithes (amounting to about 500_l._ or 600_l._ a year); and, out of the large church revenues; or, rather, large church-_and-poor_ revenues, of these two parishes; out of the whole of them, there remains only the amount of the curate, Mr. JOHN GALE'S, salary, which does not, perhaps, exceed seventy or a hundred pounds, and a part of which, at any rate, I dare say, he does not expend in these parishes: _away goes_, I say, all the rest of the small tithes, leaving not so much as a mess of milk or a dozen of eggs, much less a tithe-pig, to be consumed in the parish. 67. As to _the poor_, the parishes continue to be _in two_; so that I am to be considered as speaking of the parish of UPHUSBAND only. You are aware, that, amongst the last of the acts of the famous JUBILEE-REIGN, was an act to enable parishes to establish SELECT VESTRIES; and one of these vestries now exists in this parish. And now, let me explain to you the nature and tendency of this Jubilee-Act. Before this Act was passed, _overseers of the poor had full authority to grant relief at their discretion_. Pray mark that. Then again, before this Act was passed, _any one justice of the peace might, on complaint of any poor person, order relief_. Mark that. A select vestry is _to consist of the most considerable rate-payers_. Mark that. Then, mark these things: this Jubilee-Act _forbids the overseer to grant any relief other than such as shall be ordered by the select vestry_: it forbids ONE _justice_ to order relief, in any case, except in a case of _emergency:_ it forbids MORE THAN ONE to order relief, except _on oath_ that the complainant has _applied to the select vestry_ (where there is one,) and has been refused relief by it; and that, in no case, the justice's order _shall be for more than a month_; and, moreover, that when a poor person shall appeal to justices from a select vestry, the justices, in ordering relief, or refusing, shall have "_regard to the conduct and_ CHARACTER _of the applicant_!" 68. From this Act, one would imagine, that _overseers_ and _justices_ were looked upon as being too _soft_ and _yielding_ a nature; _too good, too charitable, too liberal_ to the poor! In order that the select vestry may have an agent suited to the purposes that the Act _manifestly has in view_, the Act authorizes the select vestry to appoint what is called an "_assistant overseer_," and to _give him a salary out of the poor-rates_. Such is this Jubilee-Act, one of the last Acts of the Jubilee-reign, that reign, which gave birth to the American war, to Pitt, to Perceval, Ellenborough, Sidmouth, and Castlereagh, to a thousand millions of taxes and another thousand millions of debt: such is the Select Vestry Act; and this now little trifling village of UPHUSBAND _has a Select-Vestry_! Aye, and an "ASSISTANT OVERSEER," too, with a _salary_ of FIFTY POUNDS A YEAR, being, as you will presently see, about a SEVENTH PART OF THE WHOLE OF THE EXPENDITURE ON THE POOR! 69. The Overseers make out and cause to be _printed_ and _published_, at the end of every _four weeks_, an account of the disbursements. I have one of these accounts now before me; and I insert it here, word for word, as follows:-- 70. "The disbursements of Mr. T. Child and Mr. C. Church, bread at 1_s._ 2_d._ per gallon. Sept. 25th, 1826. WIDOWS. £. s. d. £. s. d. Blake, Ann 0 8 0 Bray, Mary 0 8 0 Cook, Ann 0 7 6 Clark, Mary 0 10 0 Gilbert, Hannah 0 8 0 Marshall, Sarah 0 10 0 Smith, Mary 0 8 0 Westrip, Jane 0 8 0 Withers, Ann 0 8 0 Dance, Susan 0 8 0 --------- 4 3 6 BASTARDS. ---- ---- 0 7 0 ---- ---- 0 6 0 ---- ---- 0 7 0 ---- ---- 0 6 0 ---- ---- 2 children 0 12 0 ---- ---- 2 children 0 12 0 ---- ---- - 10 0 ---- ---- - 8 0 ---- ---- - 6 0 ---- ---- - 8 0 ---- ---- - 8 0 ---- ---- - 6 0 ---- ---- - 6 0 ---- ---- - 6 0 ---------- 5 8 0 OLD MEN. Blake, John 0 16 0 Cannon, John 0 14 0 Cummins, Peter 0 16 0 Hopgood, John 0 16 0 Holden, William 0 6 0 Marshall, Charles 0 16 0 Nutley, George 0 7 0 --------- 4 11 0 FAMILIES. Bowley, Mary 0 4 0 Baverstock, Elizabeth, 2 children 0 9 4 Cook, Levi 5 children 0 5 4 Kingston, John 6 ditto 0 10 0 Knight, John 6 ditto 0 10 0 Newman, David 5 ditto 0 5 4 Pain, Robert 5 ditto 0 5 4 Synea, William 6 ditto 0 10 0 Smith, Sarah (Moses) 1 ditto 0 4 8 Studman, Sarah 2 ditto 0 9 4 White, Joseph 8 ditto 0 19 4 Wise, William 6 ditto 0 10 0 Waldren, Job 5 ditto 0 5 4 Noyce, M. Batt, 7do. 6 weeks' pay 1 2 0 --------- 6 10 0 EXTRA IN THIS MONTH. Thomas Farmer, ill 3 days 0 4 0 Levi Cook, ill 4 weeks and 1 day 1 13 4 Joseph White's child, 6 weeks 0 7 0 Jane Westrip's rent 0 2 0 William Fisher, 1 month ill 1 12 0 Paid boy, 2 days ill 0 0 8 James Orchard, ill 1 0 2 James Orchard's daughter, ill 0 8 0 Adders and Sparrows 0 2 3-1/2 Wicks for Carriage 0 1 0 Paid Mary Hinton 0 4 0 Joseph Farmer, ill 3 days 0 2 9 Thomas Cummins 0 6 0 Samuel Day, and son, ill 0 8 2 --------- 6 11 4 Total amount for the 4 weeks 27 3 10-1/2 71. Under the head of "WIDOWS" are, generally, old women wholly unable to work; and that of "OLD MEN" are men past all labour: in some of the instances _lodging places_, in very poor and wretched houses, are found these old people, and, in other instances, they have the bare money; and, observe, that money is FOR FOUR WEEKS! Gracious God! Have we had no mothers ourselves! Were we not born of woman! Shall we not feel then for the poor widow who, in her old age, is doomed to exist on two shillings a week, or threepence halfpenny a day, and to find herself _clothes_ and washing and fuel and bedding out of that! And, the poor old men, the very happiest of whom gets, you see, less than 7_d._ a day, at the end of 70 or 80 years of a life, all but six of which have been years of labour! I have thought it right to put _blanks_ instead of the names, under the _second head_. Men of less rigid morality, and less free from all illicit intercourse, than the members of the Select Vestry of Uphusband, would, instead of the word "_bastard_," have used the more amiable one of "_love-child_;" and, it may not be wholly improper to ask these rigid moralists, whether they be aware, that they are guilty of LIBEL, aye, of real criminal libel, in causing these poor girls' names to be _printed_ and _published_ in this way. Let them remember, that the greater the truth the greater the libel; and, let them remember, that the mothers and the children too, may have _memories_! But, it is under the head of "FAMILIES" that we see that which is most worthy of our attention. Observe, that _eight shillings a week_ is _the wages_ for a day labourer in the village. And, you see, it is only when there are _more than four children_ that the family is allowed anything at all. "LEVI COOK," for instance, has _five children_, and he receives allowance for _one_ child. "JOSEPH WHITE" has _eight children_, and he receives allowance for _four_. There are three widows under this head; but, it is where there is _a man_, the father of the family, that we ought to look with attention; and here we find, that nothing at all is allowed to a family of a man, a wife, and _four children_, beyond the bare eight shillings a week of wages; and this is even worse than the allowance which I contrasted with that of the hospital patients and convicted felons; for there I supposed the family to consist of a man, his wife and _three children_. If I am told, that the farmers, that the occupiers of houses and land, are _so poor_ that they cannot do more for their wretched work-people and neighbours; then I answer and say, What a selfish, what a dastardly wretch is he, who is not ready to do all he can to change this disgraceful, this horrible state of things! 72. But, at any rate, is the salary of the "ASSISTANT OVERSEER" necessary? Cannot that be dispensed with? Must he have as much as _all the widows_, or _all the old men_? And his salary, together with the charge for _printing_ and other his various expenses, will come to a great deal more _than go to all the widows and old men too_! Why not, then, do without him, and double the allowance to these poor old women, or poor old men, who have spent their strength in raising crops in the parish? I went to see with my own eyes some of the "_parish houses_," as they are called; that is to say, the places where the select vestry put the poor people into to live. Never did my eyes before alight on such scenes of wretchedness! There was one place, about 18 feet long and 10 wide, in which I found the wife of ISAAC HOLDEN, which, when all were at home, had to contain _nineteen persons_; and into which, I solemnly declare, I would not put 19 pigs, even if well-bedded with straw. Another place was shown me by JOB WALDRON'S daughter; another by Thomas Carey's wife. The _bare ground_, and that in holes too, was the floor in both these places. The windows broken, and the holes stuffed with rags, or covered with rotten bits of board. Great openings in the walls, parts of which were fallen down, and the places stopped with hurdles and straw. The thatch rotten, the chimneys leaning, the doors but bits of doors, the sleeping holes shocking both to sight and smell; and, indeed, every-thing seeming to say: "_These_ are the abodes of wretchedness, which, to be believed possible, must be seen and felt: _these_ are the abodes of the descendants of those amongst whom _beef_, _pork_, _mutton_ and _veal_ were the food of the poorer sort; to _this are come, at last_, the descendants of those common people of England, who, FORTESCUE tells us, were clothed throughout in good woollens, whose bedding, and other furniture in their houses, were of wool, and that in great store, and who were well provided with all sorts of household goods, every one having all things that conduce to make life easy and happy!" 73. I have now, my friends of Preston, amply proved, that what I have stated relative to the present state of, and allowances to, the labourers is TRUE. And now we are to do all we can to remove the evil; for, removed the evil must be, or England must be sunk for ages; and, never will the evil be removed, until its causes, remote as well as near, be all clearly ascertained. With my best wishes for the health and happiness of you all, I remain, Your faithful friend, and most obedient servant, WM. COBBETT. THE END. Footnotes: [1] 4s. 6d. English, equal to one dollar. [2] 2d. English, equal to four cents, nearly. [3] The above items may be converted into United States' money by reckoning 4s. 6d. to the dollar: Thus As 4_s._ 6_d._ : 1 dollar :: 11_l._ 7_s._ 2_d._ : 50 dollars 48 cents. [4] To convert these sums into United States' money, see page 16. [5] All the calculations in this work, it must be remembered, are in English money but may be turned into United States' money as before directed, page 16. [6] Be sure, now, _before you go any further_, to go to the end of the book, and there read about MANGLE WURZLE. Be _sure_ to do this. And there read also about COBBETT'S CORN. Be sure to do this before you go any further. [7] To me the following has happened within the last year. A young man, in the country, had agreed to be my servant; but it was found _that he could not milk_; and the bargain was set aside. About a month afterwards a young man, who said he was _a farmer's son_, and who came from Herefordshire, offered himself to me at Kensington. "_Can you milk?_" He could not; but _would learn_! Ay, but in the learning, he might _dry up my cows_! What a shame to the _parents_ of these young men! Both of them were in _want of employment_. The latter had come more than a hundred miles in _search of work_; and here he was left to hunger still, and to be exposed to all sorts of ills, because he _could not milk_. [8] London [9] The father of the present Sir Robert Peel, who gained his fortune as a cotton weaver by the help of machinery. [10] Editors of the London Times Newspaper. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). Footnote marker 4 is not in the original text. Some quotation marks are not matched in the original. Obvious errors have been silently matched, while those requiring interpretation have been left unmatched. The following misprints have been corrected: "it" corrected to "is" (page 26) "whorthy" corrected to "worthy" (page 51) "bady" corrected to "bad" (page 68) "buln of the hatch" corrected to "bulk of the batch" (page 119) "the the" corrected to "the" (page 123) "abuudant" corrected to "abundant" (page 126) "pig's" corrected to "pigs" (index) "Chancollor" corrected to "Chancellor" (Part 2, page 47) "Chanceller" corrected to "Chancellor" (Part 2, page 47) "Amecan" corrected to "American" (Part 2, page 55) Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation usage have been retained. 
7428	----	The Consumer Viewpoint covering vital phases of manufacturing and selling household devices by Mildred Maddocks, Director GOOD HOUSEKEEPING INSTITUTE Department of Household Engineering It has been Good Housekeeping's privilege to build up, as a source for reader service, many departments that are unique and noteworthy in the extent to which they have gone in measuring consumer needs and consumer viewpoint. In the following pages are presented some observations made by one of these departments as the result of years of research and investigation in the field of household appliances. Generally speaking, most man-made devices are man-used. Here is an industry whose products are man-made, but woman-used. It is this fundamental condition that has placed the merchandising and selling problems of the industry absolutely in a class by themselves and has made them of peculiar importance and significance. It is hoped that the material given herein may be of real service to those whose interest lies in knowing more about one of our most rapidly growing and least understood industries and also to those who would better understand the basic element in all manufacturing and selling. _C. Henry Hathaway_ FOREWORD The manufacture of home devices to be used by women in household work is of comparatively recent development, the growth of the industry has been so rapid that many manufacturers are still groping to establish standards that will meet the new and uncertain conditions under which their product must be used. Dealers in household equipment as well as manufacturers are still uncertain as to what constitutes the selling value of an article, because it has been impossible to predicate the conditions, the care and skill with which each device would be used after it was marketed. It is comparatively easy for designer and factory manager to guard against known conditions of use. The dishwashing machine for a hotel or restaurant service can be built to perform with satisfactory efficiency. Its operating purposes and costs are known, the skill of its operators is more or less established, and the materials can be so selected to result in a satisfactory life of the machine. It is a different story when the manufacturer's product is to be used in the typical American home. Household equipment of every type must be made so that it will prove adaptable to different service conditions, with regard to both homes and actual users. An even more important consideration is intermittent use that must be met successfully by all home devices. It is the unusual home in which washing is done more than once or twice a week. The balance of the time the machine must stand idle. And this is true of practically every other type of labor saving device. It represents the most difficult of conditions a factory product has to face. In dealing in the following pages with this most important subject it must be understood that Good Housekeeping Institute is offering valuable facts that have been established through fifteen years of experience in testing household equipment, and is further utilizing the viewpoint of thousands of consumers and dealers who have come for a conference with us either in person or by letter. POINTS OFTEN OVERLOOKED BY MANUFACTURERS. It is not too much to say that in general the manufacturer wants to produce the article that the woman wants to buy. In many cases the reason he does not accomplish it is due to the fact that he does not divide his expenditures wisely. He neglects to pay the price for the highest grade skill in designing and he markets his product too quickly. The importance of developing a specific design cannot be overestimated. No machine on the market, of any type, is one hundred per cent perfect and none on the market should, therefore, be taken as a standard to be met by the new manufacturer. It is a patchwork, only, that is obtained by one common method used to obtain a newly designed machine. Namely, the manufacturer purchases every type of machine, already marketed to perform a given work, and adapts one part from one machine, another part from a second machine and perhaps still another part from a third machine. Such a design must always be a compromise, and it is seldom possible to obtain the original working efficiency of the several parts in the new machine because of the necessary compromises. A second point that the manufacturer is apt to overlook is the importance of including the most minute of details in his general high standard of manufacture. For instance, he elects to use copper for a water container, but forgets to provide that every bolt and rivet and screw, no matter how small, shall be of a rust-resisting metal. The small part capable of rusting is as much an eyesore to the purchaser and in certain conditions can do as great damage as though the manufacturer had not spent the major sum to insure his rust-resisting container. And a third point: sometimes a manufacturer neglects to make certain of a perfection of detail in the factory that will produce one hundred per cent. of uniformity in his product. Thus vacuum cleaner manufacturers, merely by installing an equipment that would measure for them, under actual conditions of service, the correct air displacement of the particular machine tested, could eliminate any possibility of lack of uniformity in their product. Further, it would take no more time for the inspection than is at present accorded to the routine reading of current consumption. Yet up to this time we know of no vacuum cleaner factory that has installed this comparatively simple and inexpensive equipment. When attempting to market a product to women, factory faults are of far greater importance than when marketing a product for the use of men. The latter understand the difficulties of factory production and accept the occasional defective product as a routine. They expect it to be credited. They expect prompt correction on the part of the manufacturer or dealer, and, once adjusted, with them the matter usually ends. Not so with the average woman purchaser. First of all, and last of all, she remembers that something was the matter with the machine for which she paid her money. Oftentimes only the most drastic and unusual service on the part of the manufacturer will take away the sting that was left in her mind by the original transaction. In club, church, or in confidential chat at home, somewhere she leaves the impression that there is still something the matter or she would not have gotten a poor machine. The advertising value, therefore, of a uniformity of product cannot be overestimated. No amount of costly after-service will compensate for the lack of it. THE VALUE OF PROPER DEMONSTRATION BY THE DEALER. A manufacturer sometimes fails to satisfy the woman consumer because he is attempting to satisfy a dealer's demand for "flashy" rather than practical selling points and, therefore, loses sight of the value to him of a perfect functioning of his device. Exclusive points of design that can be used for a spectacular demonstration have been up to this time perhaps the strongest of selling aids; but manufacturers and dealers alike are beginning to realize that they have an element of danger. Thus, the confetti test for vacuum cleaners was an unfortunate misuse of the machine. It has never convinced the woman purchaser that it would accomplish the more trying task of removing "grimed-in" soil, even while it fascinated her as a spectator and even while she left as a purchaser. She doubted her own machine because of the unconvincing test. It was only a short time ago that in one of the trade papers dealing with household equipment there appeared an editorial endorsement, and an exceedingly strong one at that, of a certain dealer display which had attracted great crowds on both sidewalk and street before the dealer's window. The crowd had been drawn by the display of a number of different washing machines grouped around a central machine which was absorbing the "limelight." It had a swinging wringer and the wringer was revolving at so rapid a rate it became plain that any woman who stepped in the way of that particular type of wringer was doomed to a severe blow if not a fall. The idea of the dealer in using such a display was of the "stop-look-listen" variety, and he obtained all he could desire of this variety of interest. But he had not safeguarded the interest of _any_ washing machine in his window. For women have a certain reluctance toward machinery in motion and he failed to reckon with them as the purchasers of his washing machines. Would she buy one in order to use the swinging wringer as an obvious menace to herself and to her household? No. In selecting an Iron, the woman looks for: 1. A weight of household iron that is around six pounds. 2. A general design that is easy to handle, of good balance and with comfortable large handle grip. 3. A thin sheet metal hood; weight in hood decreases ironing efficiency. 4. A correct relation between the weight of the storage heat mass above the heating element, and the weight of the sole plate beneath the heating element. Upon this relation depends good ironing results. (_If heating element should be inset in sole plate with one-fourth inch margin, a direct heat connection between the two masses of metal could be secured at a consequent reduction of heat loss._) 5. Cord connections to slip in and out easily. 6. Switch in plug connection or on cord. 7. Plug connection so heat insulated as to prevent conduction of heat, and overheating of cord at connections. Undoubtedly if there was a prospective woman purchaser in that group in front of the window she left to become one of the hundreds of women who still are asking themselves the question "is a washing machine safe?" It is not difficult to see how quickly this particular kind of demonstration becomes a boomerang to the manufacturer. It is as true of every type of spectacular appeal. The time has surely come to discontinue all such practices and to sell appliances: because they will do the work more quickly, more easily, or more cheaply, because they are so built that they will prove durable, and therefore, a satisfactory investment; and finally, because they are the only logical solution of comfortable, well-ordered present day family life. WHAT THE PURCHASER LOOKS FOR It has been amply proved that women are not especially interested in fine points of design unless that interest is implanted by competitive statements of the salesmen. They are not especially interested in form or color or detail, but they are supremely interested in dealer assurance that the machine is solidly built; that it will accomplish the work; and that its purchase will save them money, time or labor, perhaps all three. Let the appliance itself impress them with the strength of the materials used, the cleanness of its design and the perfection of work performed, and the sale is made. COST IS CONSIDERED The question of cost considered only from the woman's standpoint of expenditure is more difficult to discuss. In the case of small equipment priced under or around five dollars it is easy to make large sales upon the time or labor-saving qualities the devices may have. But repeat sales are affected by the quality of construction and materials used. In all higher priced equipment the question of strength and quality seems uppermost in her mind, but a difference in price between two makes or two models of same manufacture, often results in the sale of the higher priced, because she has enjoyed the opportunity of discrimination. There seems to be no question that the woman purchaser is willing to pay _any added sum required to make construction better or convenience greater_--always provided that the salesman convinces her she is obtaining the quality she is paying for. In selecting a Vacuum Cleaner, the woman looks for: 1. A design that will prove efficient at low upkeep cost over a period of time. 2. If motor driven brush type [Footnote: Her selection may include either motor driven brush type or air type machine, since properly designed, either will care for all kinds of soil, including thread and lint.], there must be correct relation between air suction power and brush sweeping action. 3. As light a construction as is consistent with quality. 4. If air type, a narrow floor nozzle so designed as to clean by small amount of air at high velocity. 5. If air and brush (geared to wheels) type, a broader nozzle with inset brush is permissible provided care is exercised in design to prevent air leakage. This type cleans by a larger volume of air with correspondingly lower velocity. 6. Durable construction, either aluminum or steel casings, an assembly that secures tight joints and seams that won't leak air. 7. Easy operation--weight of appliance not so important if weight is easily handled. 8. Convenient switch; handle designed long enough for comfortable operation at woman's height. 9. Bag, double seamed; strong, tight connections; easily emptied; durable material, preferably of cotton flannel type. 10. Winding posts for cord to be strong and conveniently placed. 11. Convenience in connecting attachments. 12. Elimination of noise, in so far as this is possible. Instead, then, of attempting merely to learn the dealer's demand for selling points, put part of your effort into learning the demands of the user of the machine. Consumer suggestion or demands are apt to come only after a period of use. Obvious ones are sometimes reported by the dealer, but very often they never come to the manufacturer through the reports of the trade in time to be of service. It took a period of years for the dealer to realize the importance of enclosed moving parts. It finally came to him through the reaction developed by women using the machines. In the same way the manufacture and marketing of both gas and electric ranges, which has been uniformly efficient, has overlooked one very important detail. The broiler grids are often so placed that the steak is an inch and a half away from the flame instead of one-half inch. With such a broiler, perfect broiling is impossible. Again a kitchen cabinet may be made of high grade materials but the hardware proves too light to stand the constant closing and opening. Such a kitchen cabinet is handicapped in any neighborhood because constant use makes the minor annoyance a cumulative one, which reacts directly upon the manufacturer's product. The vacuum cleaner that is easily sold on the dealer's floor because it looks big and imposing oftentimes discloses its poor efficiency only after from four to six months of use. This is due to the fact that from time immemorial women have ordained a period devoted to housecleaning twice a year. And it is at this crucial time that they discover if the routine care of rugs and carpets by their vacuum cleaner has accomplished a work satisfactory to them. This conclusion is well borne out by a conversation we had with a large dealer in vacuum cleaners from the west coast. He freely told us of handling two vacuum cleaners, one a comparatively inexpensive and absolutely inefficient machine (as we had proved by test), the other a more expensive and a thoroughly efficient machine. He claimed that the first proved only a feeder for the second, since when the woman, after a longer or shorter period of use, realized that the first machine would not do the work, she returned to buy the more expensive and better machine. And the average time was six months! Now this dealer could have selected a machine no higher in price than his less expensive model which would have done good work and thoroughly satisfied the user. We leave you to draw your own conclusions as to the fate of the manufacturer's product in the first place, and the dealer's selling methods in the second place. In selecting a Washing Machine, the woman looks for: 1. Compact, trim appearance with all machine parts covered. 2. Plain outlines. 3. Swinging wringer with safety release. 4. Pump attached to machine to rapidly drain off water when drain connection is not practical. 5. Metal tub exterior painted (easy to keep clean). 6. A waterproof finish on a wood tub. 7. Switch control of motor, clutch control of tub and wringer. 8. Height that will obviate stooping. 9. Design to insure efficiency. 10. Motor and switch insulation. 11. Materials and workmanship that insure durability. 12. A water outlet that allows rapid running off of water. 13. Threaded outlet to allow for connection. 14. All handles and levers to be easy to grasp and to turn by wet hands. 15. Tub body slightly off the level to allow for draining. It is easy to sell a refrigerator that has a sightly appearance, that is equipped with a sanitary seamless lining and that is marked with a price that spells to the woman good workmanship. But it is only actual use in storing food that develops the fact that the insulation is of sufficient quantity and is assembled with high grade construction, or that cheap material and workmanship have been substituted. The service that can be obtained from the appliance after it is marketed is of the utmost importance for the manufacturer to learn. _It is peculiarly impossible to sell and "forget" any product sold to women._ THE WOMAN'S VIEWPOINT ON MATERIALS USED IN CONSTRUCTION. Undoubtedly a phase of manufacturing that acutely interests the average manufacturer deals with the selection of the materials that are to be used in the construction of his product. Too often the person who selects these materials fails to take into account the fact that women are almost fanatically intolerant of two things, rust and discoloration. It may be but one bolt that can rust, but women under our observation have utterly condemned a washing machine for which they paid from $125 to $165 because of this one bolt alone. We have heard them further condemn a machine because of the difficulty of keeping it polished. It is not purpose, we are convinced, but it must be carelessness on the part of that manufacturer who allows the use of a rusting screw here or a bolt there when the rest of the equipment is safeguarded against such conditions. In one specific instance a single part of a machine intended to be used in connection with water was made up of five different metals. Each one of these metals had its own different reaction towards hard water in the presence of soap. That this manufacturer had intended no slight toward his product was indicated by the fact that the largest section of this part was constructed of the most expensive material. He probably fully believed that he had made that particular part of rustproof material but it was the selection of defective small parts that offset any advantage due to his use of fine materials for the major part of the machine. THE RELATION OF SECTIONAL SELLING TO MATERIALS USED. Because a great deal of household equipment that is of interest to women must be used as a water container, the effect of water of varying degrees of hardness upon the several metals is of interest. Most metals have some electrolytic action. There are throughout the country water supplies of every known degree of hardness. There are water supplies whose hardness can be corrected and there are supplies of the type known as "permanent" hardness. In actual practice the salts in these hard waters react with soap of any variety to form a sticky gray precipitate. This precipitate is increased in quantity in direct proportion to the activity of the metal. Therefore, the material selected for the tub and cylinder of a washing machine, for the container of the dishwashing machine, or for the tea kettle that demands constant contact with water should be given the careful attention that its importance demands. In selecting a Refrigerator, the woman looks for: 1. Seamless lining. 2. Compartment beneath ice high enough to hold quart milk bottles. 3. Generous insulation. 4. A selection of wood and treatment of it that will prevent warping. 5. Heavy hardware. 6. Positive-closing, lever locks. 7. Plain unpanelled trim--high leg base. 8. Dull, rather than highly finished wood. 9. Easily accessible drain. 10. Adjustable shelves. A universal metal that can withstand any and all attacks of these several waters is difficult if not impossible to locate. In our judgment there is no perfect metal. Copper comes the nearest to it and yet copper must be tinned, and there is some slight consumer reaction against its use, in large containers, because they claim copper must be scoured in order to be sightly. However, enamel paint on the outside of such a container, leaving only a fair sized name-plate to be burnished, would overcome this objection. Galvanized iron, zinc, nickel, all have a disadvantage of inducing electrolytic action (producing whitish precipitate) and that should be taken into account in your selection of metals. In sections save those in which waters are of the "permanent hard" variety, this disadvantage can be overcome by including directions that the machine should not be scoured. Flush with rinsing water only. With such care, the whitish deposit acts as a film over the metal, and, once the latter is completely covered, reduces the precipitation. But in the presence of extremely hard waters, the quantity is so great that the precipitate snows a tendency to deposit on the linen itself, instead of being thrown solely to the sides of tub, cylinder, or suction cup. Once this does get on the fabric, it has all the sticky characteristics of chewing gum. Bronze or brass rather than steel or iron should be used for any bearings that come in contact with water. Only thus can you fully safeguard against rust. LITTLE THINGS THAT OFTEN PROVE GREAT. Safety demands that every equipment involving an electric motor be so fully insulated from the machine frame by water-proof fittings and insulated shaft couplings, etc., that a maximum of safety can be assured. It is indeed remarkable that this is not more often cared for in the original design. In one short period, at least three machines were forced into the disapproval group in the Department of Household Engineering of Good Housekeeping Institute with such lack of insulation as one of the causes. It is thus clear that consumer needs, in this great classification of merchandise (household appliances) as reflected by consumer attitude are often ill-defined and extremely difficult for the manufacturer to interpret. Therefore, as a recognition of this condition, the basic purpose running throughout all of the testing work at Good Housekeeping Institute is to test every device so as to duplicate the conditions under which the device will be used by the ultimate consumer, be she intelligent or unintelligent. It has furthermore been the Institute's special province to express to each manufacturer the trend of consumer demand as seen, not only through the Institute's use of appliances, but through the thousands of consumers who report their experiences. It is an interesting and surprising fact that mechanical tests develop data which often interpret the results obtained under practical usage of the equipment, and the results obtained under the practical usage quite as often define the value of the mechanical data. Any effort a manufacturer may make to develop these two angles of testing will more than offset any money cost that may be added to the factory overhead. Complete testing of this character will also save ultimate consumer reactions against the completed manufactured product. It is not enough, as so many manufacturers have done, to place the appliance in a variety of homes and take the consequent "say-so." It must be remembered that it is only possible to compare an appliance when you have something to compare it with, and that something must be an appliance designed to do similar work. How many instances are there where manufacturers allow their products to go out without comparative information of this kind, just because such information is so extremely difficult to get? To all interested in or concerned with this great industry, there is one thing to be remembered above all else--study and test not only the mechanical construction and perfection of your product but know from every conceivable angle what the user or consumer is going to demand of it. If this be done, and done thoroughly, and exhaustively, you will build the appliance of the best materials obtainable, because it must wear well; of the most efficient design, because it must operate smoothly; and you cannot fail to so build it that it will do its work completely and well because you will have the measure of these values within the experience of your own investigation. The results of this care in manufacture will promptly be reflected when marketing your product in at least three ways,--first, increase of sales and repeat sales; second, a lowered overhead cost for servicing, repairing, and replacing defective machines, and third, a fairer and lower price to the consumer because it is based on the cost of her machine only since she is not burdened with a share of her neighbor's repairs in your "overhead." There is perhaps no household device operated by electricity that is more complicated in its oiling system than the old-fashioned sewing machine and yet the manufacturer managed to train the housewife to ninety per cent. efficiency in caring for the machine. Therefore, well defined and specified places for oiling should be provided for, and decalcomaniac or otherwise permanent directions placed on all enclosed gearings, in order that the user may continually have before her the correct places marked for oiling. It is not enough to supply a circular of directions: she loses it promptly as has been proved over and over again. All important service directions must be permanent. SOME NEEDS OF THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE. It is largely because there has not been a consumer demand that was well defined that we find few equipments designed with attention to the proper working heights. Moreover, we are convinced that it is a decidedly difficult question to settle. However, it is possible to group most exertions that women must practice into two classes: those that involve upper arm muscles, as work at a sink, range, washtub, or washing machine, etc., and secondly, exertions that involve the muscles of the forearm, as the mixing, stirring, and beating involved in cookery processes. In the first case any variations in a woman's height makes comparatively little difference. A range of heights from five feet to six feet would be served equally well by a similar height of equipment. This makes it possible to lay down the rule that sinks should be designed and plumbers should provide for piping them at a height of thirty-five inches from the bottom of the sink to the floor. Ranges should be thirty-four inches in height to the working top, and both washing machines and tubs should be thirty-eight inches to their rims. This enables all work to be done with straight unstrained back. Where the forearm muscle is involved, however, it becomes a far more delicate question. The distance between work-table top and elbow must be the control on designing. For that reason it is not possible to establish a constant and ideal height for kitchen cabinets and working table surfaces, although in general most of these have been from one to two inches too low. "Adjustable in height" seems to be the only answer to this phase of the problem. Some one, sometime, will undoubtedly design a well made table (we have already seen one of poor construction) that will have strong, as well as adjustable leg support. Some one, sometime, will build a good refrigerator (as we have seen a poor one) constructed with the sanitary, high leg-base of the present day office desk. It will obviate stooping and it will enable one to get the refrigerator pan without groping provided there can be no drain. It will further allow for a refrigerator pan large enough to prevent the common accident of overflowing. Again, sometime, we believe the manufacturer of kitchen cabinets will see a picture of kitchens built with four, straight, clean walls and completely equipped with the pantry on one wall, consisting of kitchen cabinet and side units for storage cabinets, each one of these side cabinets to be only fourteen inches deep. The time will come--it is almost here--when the demand from women for the high sink we have already indicated is going to be strong enough so that the Plumber's standards for cutting pipe will be changed to meet her demand. It is difficult to realize, but it is nevertheless true, that every woman who wishes a properly placed sink in her kitchen or pantry has to overcome the inertia of the plumber not only because of his conservative unwillingness to do this unusual task, but because he is put to the extra expense and trouble of getting "specials" in pipe length, due to the fact that the plumbing trade, as yet, has not recognized an at least partially developed consumer demand. 
4622	----	fever, or small pox, or croup, active and energetic treatment would, probably, have been required, and the doctor would have known what he was about in administering his remedies. But, in a slight indisposition, like that from which your child suffered, it is, in my opinion, always better to give no medicine for a time. Drugs thrown into the tender system of a child, will always produce disease of some kind, more or less severe; and where slight disorders already exist, they are apt to give them a dangerous hold upon the body, or, uniting with them, cause a most serious, and, at times, fatal illness." But Mrs. Lee shook her head. She thought the doctors knew best. They had great confidence in their family physician. He had doctored them through many dangerous attacks, and had always brought them through safely. As to the new-fangled notions about giving little or no medicine, she had no confidence in them. Medicine was necessary at times, and she always gave her children medicine at least two, or three times a year, whether they were sick or well. Prevention, in her eyes, was better than cure. And where there was actual sickness, she was in favor of vigorous treatment. One good dose of medicine would do more good than a hundred little ones; with much more to the same effect. On the next morning, my dear baby, who was just as sick for a few hours as Mrs. Lee's child was at first, was as well as ever. Not long after breakfast, I was sent for by Mrs. Lee. Her poor child was much worse. The servant said that she was sure it was dying. I changed my dress hurriedly, and went over to the house of my neighbor. Shall I describe the painful object that met my sight? It was three days since I had seen the little sufferer; but, oh! how it had changed in that brief time. Its face was sunken, its eyes far back in their sockets, and its forehead marked with lines of suffering. The whole of its breast was raw from the blister, and its mouth, lying open, showed, with painful distinctness, the dreadful injury wrought by the mercury thrown, with such a liberal hand, into its delicate system. All the life seemed to have withdrawn itself from the skin; for the vital forces, in the centre of its body, were acting but feebly. The doctor came in while I was there. He said but little. It was plain that he was entirely at fault, and that he saw no hope of a favorable issue. All his, "active treatment" had tended to break down the child, rather than cure the disease from which it at first suffered. There was a great deal of heat about the child's head, and he said something about having it shaved for a blister. "Wouldn't ice do better, doctor?" I felt constrained to suggest. He turned upon me quickly and seemed annoyed. "No, madam!" he replied with dignity. I said no more, for I felt how vain my words would be. The blister, however, was not ordered; but, in its stead, mustard plasters were directed to be placed over the feet and legs to the knees, and a solution of iodine, or iron, I don't now remember which, prescribed, to be given every half hour. I went home, some time after the doctor left, feeling sick at heart. "They are murdering that child," I could not help saying to myself. My own dear babe I found full of health and life; and I hugged it to my breast with a feeling of thankfulness. Before the day closed, Mrs. Lee's poor child died. Was it a cause of wonder? CHAPTER XXVI. THE RIVAL BONNETS. I HAVE a pleasant story to relate of a couple of fashionables of our city, which will serve to diversify these "Confessions," and amuse the reader. To the incidents, true in the main, I have taken the liberty of adding some slight variations of my own. A lady of some note in society, named Mrs. Claudine, received a very beautiful bonnet from New York, a little in advance of others, and being one of the rival leaders in the fashionable world, felt some self-complacency at the thought of appearing abroad in the elegant head-gear, and thereby getting the reputation of leading the fashion. Notwithstanding Mrs. Claudine's efforts to keep the matter a secret, and thus be able to create a surprise when she appeared at church on the next Sunday, the fact that she had received the bonnet leaked out, and there was some excitement about it. Among those who heard of the new bonnet, was a Mrs. Ballman, who had written to a friend to get for her the very article obtained first by Mrs. Claudine. From some cause or other a delay had occurred, and to her chagrin she learned that a rival had the new fashion, and would get the _eclat_ that she so much coveted. The disappointment, to one whose pleasures in life are so circumscribed as those of a real fashionable lady, was severe indeed. She did not sleep more than a few hours on the night after she received the mortifying intelligence. The year before, Mrs. Claudine had led the fashion in some article of dress, and to see her carry off the palm in bonnets on this occasion, when she had striven so hard to be in advance, was more than Mrs. Bellman could endure. The result of a night's thinking on the subject was a determination to pursue a very extraordinary course, the nature of which will be seen. By telegraph Mrs. Bellman communicated with her friend in New York, desiring her to send on by the evening of the next day, which was Saturday, the bonnet she had ordered, if four prices had to be paid as an inducement to get the milliner to use extra exertions in getting it up. In due time, notice came back that the bonnet would be sent on by express on Saturday, much to the joy of Mrs. Ballman, who from the interest she felt in carrying out her intentions, had entirely recovered from the painful disappointment at first experienced. Saturday brought the bonnet, and a beautiful one it was. A few natural sighs were expended over the elegant affair, and then other feelings came in to chase away regrets at not having been first to secure the article. On the day previous, Friday, Mrs. Ballman called upon a fashionable milliner, and held with her the following conversation. "You have heard of Mrs. Claudine's new bonnet, I presume?" "Yes, madam," replied the milliner. "Do you think it will take?" asked Mrs. Ballman. "I do." "You have not the pattern?" "Oh, yes. I received one a week ago." "You did!" "Yes. But some one must introduce it. As Mrs. Claudine is about doing this there is little doubt of its becoming the fashion, for the style is striking as well as tasteful." Mrs. Ballman mused for some moments. There she drew the milliner aside, and said, in a low confidential tone. "Do you think you could get up a bonnet a handsome as that, and in just as good taste?" "I know I could. In my last received London and Paris fashions are several bonnets a handsome as the one that is about being adopted in New York, and here also without doubt." "I am not so sure of its being adopted here," said the lady. "If Mrs. Claudine introduces it, as I understand she intends doing on Sunday, it will certainly be approved and the style followed." "I very much doubt it. But we will see. Where are the bonnets you spoke of just now?" The milliner brought forth a number of pattern cards and plates, and pointed out two bonnets, either of which, in her judgment, was more beautiful than the one Mrs. Claudine had received. "Far handsomer," was the brief remark with which Mrs. Ballman approved the milliner's judgment. "And now," she added, "can you get me up one of these by Sunday?" "I will try." "Try won't do," said the lady, with some excitement in her manner. "I must have the bonnet. Can you make it?" "Yes." "Very well. Then make it. And let it be done in your very best manner. Why I wish to have this bonnet I need hardly explain to you. I believed that I would have received the bonnet, about to be adopted in New York, first. I had written to a friend to procure it; but, by some means, Mrs. Claudine has obtained hers in advance of me. Mine will be here to-morrow, but I don't mean to wear it. I wish to lead." "If you were both to appear in this bonnet, the fashion would be decided," said the milliner. "I know. But I have no wish to share the honor with Mrs. Claudine. Make me the bonnet I have selected, and I will see that it puts hers down." "You will remember," said the milliner, "that hers has been already adopted in New York. This will be almost sure to give it the preference. It would be better that you did not attempt a rivalry, than that you should be beaten." "But I don't mean to be beaten," replied the lady. "I have taken measures to prevent that. After Sunday you will hear no more of the New York bonnet. Mine will go, and this, I need not tell you, will be a feather in your cap, and dollars in your pocket; as I will refer to you as the only one who can get it up. So do your best, and improve the pattern we have selected, if it will bear improvement." The milliner promised to do her "prettiest," and Mrs. Ballman returned home in a state of considerable elation at the prospect of carrying off the palm, and humiliating her rival at the same time. Mrs. Claudine, though a little vain, and fond of excelling, was a woman of kind feelings, and entirely superior to the petty jealousies that annoyed Mrs. Ballman, and soured her towards all who succeeded in rivalling her in matters of taste and fashion. Of what was passing in the mind of the lady who had been so troubled at her reception of a new style of bonnet from New York, she was entirely ignorant. She was not even aware that Mrs. Ballman had ordered the same article, nor that she had suffered a disappointment. Saturday came. Mrs. Claudine was busy over some little article of dress that was to add to her appearance on the next day, when an Irish girl, who had formerly lived with her, entered her room. "Ah! Kitty!" said the lady pleasantly. "How do you do?" "I'm right well, mum, thankee," replied Kitty, with a courtesy. "Where do you live now, Kitty?" inquired Mrs. Claudine. "I'm living with Mrs. Ballman," said the girl. "A very good place, I have no doubt." "Oh, yes, mum. It is a good place. I hain't much to do, barrin' going out with the children on good days, and seein' after them in the house; and I get good wages." "I'm very glad to hear it, Kitty; and hope you will not give up so good a home." "No, indeed, mum; and I won't do that. But Mrs. Claudine--" Kitty's face flushed, and she stammered in her speech. "What do you wish to say?" inquired the lady, seeing that Kitty hesitated to speak of what was on her mind. "Indade, mum," said Kitty, evincing much perplexity, "I hardly know what I ought to do. But yez were good to me, mum, when I was sick and didn't send me off to the poor house like some girls are sent; and I never can forget yez while there's breath in me body. And now I've come to ask yez, just as a favor to me, not to wear that new bonnet from New York, to-morrow." It was some moments before, the surprise occasioned by so novel and unexpected a request left Mrs. Claudine free to make any reply. "Why, Kitty!" she at length exclaimed, "what on earth can you mean?" "Indade, mum, and yez mustn't ask me what I mane, only don't wear the bonnet to church on the morrow, because--because--och, indade, mum, dear! I can't say any more. It wouldn't be right." Mrs. Claudine told Kitty to sit down, an invitation which the girl, who was much agitated, accepted. The lady then remained silent and thoughtful for some time. "Kitty," she remarked, at length, in a serious manner, "what you have said to me sounds very strangely. How you should know that I intended appearing in a new bonnet to-morrow, or why you should be so much interested in the matter is more than I can understand. As to acting as you desire, I see no reason for that whatever." This reply only had the effect of causing Kitty to urge her request more strenuously. But she would give no reason for her singular conduct. After the girl had gone away, Mrs. Claudine laid aside her work--for she was not in a state of mind to do any thing but think---and sat for at least an hour, musing upon the strange incident which had occurred. All at once, it flashed upon her mind that there must be some plot in progress to discredit or rival her new bonnet, which Kitty had learned at Mrs. Ballman's. The more she thought of this, the more fully did she become satisfied that it must be so. She was aware that Mrs. Ballman had been chagrined at her leading off in new fashions once or twice before; and the fact, evident now, that she knew of her reception of the bonnet, and Kitty's anxiety that she should not wear it on Sunday, led her to the conviction that there was some plot against her. At first, she determined to appear in her new bonnet, disregardful of Kitty's warning. But subsequent reflection brought her to a different conclusion. The moment Mrs. Claudine settled it in her mind that she would not appear in the new bonnet, she began dressing herself, hurriedly, to go out. It was as late as five o'clock in the afternoon when she called at the store of the milliner who had been commissioned by Mrs. Ballman to get the rival bonnet. "Have you the last fashions from abroad?" enquired Mrs. Claudine. "We have," replied the milliner. "Will you let me see them?" "Certainly, ma'am." And the patterns were shown. After examining them carefully, for some time, Mrs. Claudine selected a style of bonnet that pleased her fancy, and said-- "You must get me up this bonnet so that I can wear it to-morrow." "Impossible, madam!" replied the milliner. "This is Saturday evening." "I know it is; but for money you can get one of your girls to work all night. I don't care what you charge; but I must have the bonnet." The milliner still hesitated, and seemed to be confused and uneasy. She asked Mrs. Claudine to sit down and wait for a little while, and then retired to think upon what she had better do. The fact was, Mrs. Claudine had pitched upon the very bonnet Mrs. Ballman had ordered, and her earnestness about having it made in time to wear on the next day, put it almost beyond her power to say no. If she were to tell her that Mrs. Ballman had ordered the same bonnet, it would, she knew, settle the matter. But, it occurred to her, that if both the ladies were to appear at church in the same style of bonnet, the fashion would be sure to take, and she, in consequence, get a large run of business. This thought sent the blood bounding through the milliner's veins, and decided her to keep her own counsel, and take Mrs. Claudine's order. "She's as much right to the bonnet as Mrs. Ballman," settled all ethical questions that intruded themselves upon the milliner. "I will have it ready for you," she said, on returning to Mrs. Claudine. "Very well. But mind," said the lady, "I wish it got up in the very best style. The hurry must not take from its beauty. As for the price, charge what you please." The milliner promised every thing, and Mrs. Claudine went home to think about the important events of the approaching Sabbath. On Sunday morning both bonnets were sent home, and both the ladies fully approved the style, effect, and all things appertaining to the elegant affairs. At ten o'clock, Kitty, who was a broad-faced, coarse-looking Irish girl, came into the chamber of Mrs. Ballman, dressed up in her best, which was not saying much for the taste and elegance of her appearance. "Are you all ready?" asked her mistress. "Yes, mum." "Very well, Kitty, here's the bonnet. Now, remember, you are to go into the pew just in front of ours. The Armburner's are all out of town, and there will be no one to occupy it." Kitty received the elegant bonnet which had come on express from New York, and placed it upon her head. "You really look charming," said the lady. But Kitty was not flattered by her words, and evinced so little heart in what she was doing that Mrs Ballman said to her, in a half threatening tone, as she left the room-- "Mind, Kitty, I shall expect to see you at church." "Oh, yes, mum; I'll be there," replied Kitty, courtesying awkwardly, and retiring. Not long after Kitty had retired, Mrs. Ballman, after surveying, for many minutes, the effect of her new bonnet, becoming more and more pleased with it every moment, and more and more satisfied that it would "take," left her room, and was descending the stairs for the purpose of joining the family, who were awaiting her below. Just at that unlucky moment, a servant, who was bringing down a vessel of water, slipped, and a portion of the contents came dashing over the head and shoulders of the richly attired lady, ruining her elegant bonnet, and completely destroying the happy frame of mind in which she was about attending public worship. No wonder that she cried aloud from the sudden shock and distress so untoward an event occasioned; nor that she went back weeping to her chamber, and refused to be comforted. Mr. Ballman and the children proceeded alone to church on that day. On their return home they found the lady in a calmer frame of mind. But Mr. Ballman looked grave and was unusually silent. Kitty came home and gave up her elegant head-dress; and when her mistress told her that she might keep it, she thanked her, but declined the present. "You went to church, of course," she said. "Oh, yes, mum," replied Kitty. "And sat in the Armburner's pew?" "Yes, mum." "Alone." "Yes, mum." "Was Mrs. Claudine there?" "Yes, mum." "Did she wear her new bonnet?" "Yes, mum." "It was exactly like this?" "Oh, no, mum, it was exactly like the new one you had sent home this morning." "What!" The face of the lady flushed instantly. "Wasn't it like this?" "No, mum." Mrs. Ballman sunk into a chair. "You can retire, Kitty," she said, and the girl withdrew, leaving her to her own feelings and reflections, which were not of the most pleasing character. The appearance of Kitty at church, fully explained to Mrs. Claudine the ungenerous game that had been played against her. Her first thought was to retaliate. But reflection brought other and better feelings into play. Instead of exposing what had been done, she destroyed the bonnet received from New York, and made an effort to keep what had occurred a secret. But Kitty's appearance at church in such an elegant affair, naturally created some talk. One surmise after another was started, and, at last, from hints dropped by the milliner, and admissions almost extorted from Mrs. Claudine, the truth came out so fully, that all understood it; nor was Mrs. Ballman long left in ignorance on this head. As to the fashion, Mrs. Claudine's bonnet became the rage; though, as might be supposed, Mrs. Ballman refused to adopt it. Who will be the successful rival next season, I am unable to predict. But it is believed that Mrs. Claudine intends giving Mrs. Ballman an advance of two weeks, and then coming in with a different style, and beating her in spite of the advantage. CHAPTER XXVII. MY WASHERWOMAN. WE were sitting at tea one evening--Mr. Smith, my sister and her husband, Mr. John Jones, and myself. In the midst of a pleasant conversation, Bridget looked into the dining-room. "What is wanted?" said I. "Mary Green is down stairs." "Oh! the washerwoman." "Yes ma'am." "Well, what does she want?" I knew what she wanted well enough. She had come for two dollars that I owed her. I felt annoyed. "Why?" the reader asks. "Obligations of this kind should always be met promptly and cheerfully." True; and I am of those who never grudge the humble poor the reward of their labor. But, it so happened that I had received a pretty liberal supply of money from my husband on this very day, all of which I had spent in shopping. Some of my purchases could not be classed exactly under the head, "Articles of Domestic Economy," and I was, already, in rather a repentant mood--the warmth of admiration at the sight of sundry ornamental trifles having subsided almost as soon as I found myself their owner. To my question, Bridget very promptly answered, "She's come for her money." When a woman feels annoyed, she is rarely able to repress its exhibition. Men are cooler, and have a quicker self control. They make better hypocrites. "She's very prompt," I remarked, a little fretfully, as I took out my porte-monnaie. Now I did not possess twenty cents, and I knew it; still, I fingered among its compartments as if in search of the little gold dollars that were not there. "Hav'nt you the change?" enquired Mr. Smith, at the same time drawing forth his purse, through the meshes of which the gold and silver coin glittered in the gas light. "No dear," I replied, feeling instant relief. "Help yourself;" said he, as he tossed the purse to my side of the table. I was not long in accepting the invitation you may be sure. "Don't think," said I, after Bridget had retired, "that I am one of those who grudge the toiling poor the meagre wages they earn. I presume I looked, as I spoke, a little annoyed. The fact is, to tell the honest truth, I have not a dollar in my porte-monnaie; this with the not very pleasant consciousness of having spent several dollars to-day rather foolishly, fretted me when the just demand of the washerwoman came." "I will exonerate my wife from any suspicion of grinding the faces of the poor." Mr. Smith spoke promptly and with some earnestness of manner. After a slight pause, he continued, "Some people have a singular reluctance to part with money. If waited on for a bill, they say, almost involuntarily, 'Call to-morrow,' even though their pockets are far from being empty. "I once fell into this bad habit myself; but, a little incident, which I will relate, cured me. Not many years after I had attained my majority, a poor widow named Blake did my washing and ironing. She was the mother of two or three little children, whose sole dependance for food and raiment was on the labor of her hands. "Punctually, every Thursday morning, Mrs. Blake appeared with my clothes, 'white as the driven snow;' but, not always, as punctually, did I pay the pittance she had earned by hard labor. "'Mrs. Blake is down stairs,' said a servant tapping at my room door, one morning, while I was in the act of dressing myself. "'Oh, very well,' I replied. 'Tell her to leave my clothes. I will get them when I come down.' "The thought of paying the seventy-five cents, her due, crossed my mind. But, I said to myself, 'It's but a small matter, and will do as well when she comes again.' "There was in this a certain reluctance to part with money. My funds were low, and I might need what change I had during the day. And so it proved! As I went to the office in which I was engaged, some small article of ornament caught my eye in a shop window. "'Beautiful!' said I, as I stood looking at it. Admiration quickly changed into the desire for possession; and so I stepped in to ask the price. It was just two dollars. "'Cheap enough,' thought I. And this very cheapness was a further temptation. "So I turned out the contents of my pockets, counted them over, and found the amount to be two dollars and a quarter. "'I guess I'll take it,' said I, laying the money on the shopkeeper's counter. "'Better have paid Mrs. Blake.' This thought crossed my mind, an hour afterwards, by which time, the little ornament had lost its power of pleasing. 'So much would at least have been saved.' "I was leaving the table, after tea, on the evening that followed, when the waiter said to me-- "'Mrs. Blake is at the door, and wishes to see you.' "I felt worried at hearing this; for there was no change in my pockets, and the poor washerwoman, had, of course, come for her money. "'She's in a great hurry,' I muttered to myself as I descended to the door. "'You'll have to wait until you bring home my clothes next week, Mrs. Blake.' I havn't any change this evening.' "The expression of the poor woman's face, as she turned slowly away, without speaking, rather softened my feelings. "'I'm sorry,' said I--'but, it can't be helped now. I wish you had said, this morning, that you wanted money. I could have paid you then.' "She paused, and turned partly towards me as I said this. Then she moved off, with something so sad in her manner, that I was touched, sensibly. "'I ought to have paid her this morning when I had the change about me. And I wish I had done so. Why didn't she ask for her money if she wanted it so badly.' "I felt, of coarse, rather ill at ease. A little while afterwards, I met the lady with whom I was boarding. "'Do you know anything about this Mrs. Blake, who washes for me?' I enquired. "'Not much; except that she is very poor, and has three children to feed and clothe. And what is worst of all, she is in bad health. I think she told me this morning, that one of her little ones was very sick.' "I was smitten with a feeling of self-condemnation, and soon after left the room. It was too late to remedy the evil, for I had only a sixpence in my pocket; and, moreover, I did not know where to find Mrs. Blake. Having purposed to make a call upon some young ladies that evening, I now went up into my room to dress. Upon my bed lay the spotless linen brought home by Mrs. Blake in the morning. The sight of it rebuked me; and I had to conquer, with some force, an instinctive reluctance, before I could compel myself to put on a clean shirt, and snow-white vest, too recently from the hand of my unpaid washerwoman. "One of the young ladies upon whom I called was more than a mere pleasant acquaintance. (And here Mr. Smith glanced, with a tender smile, towards me.) My heart had, in fact been warming towards her for some time; and I was particularly anxious to find favor in her eyes. On this evening she was lovelier and more attractive than ever. "Judge then, of the effect produced upon me by the entrance of her mother--at the very moment when my heart was all a-glow with love, who said, as she came in-- "'Oh, dear! This is a strange world!' "'What new feature have you discovered now, mother?' asked one of her daughters, smiling. "'No new one, child; but an old one that looks more repulsive than ever,' was answered. 'Poor Mrs. Blake came to see me just now, in great trouble.' "'What about, mother?' All the young ladies at once manifested unusual interest. "Tell-tale blushes came instantly to my countenance, upon which the eyes of the mother turned themselves, as I felt, with a severe scrutiny. "'The old story in cases like hers,' was answered. 'Can't get her money when earned, although, for daily bread, she is dependent on her daily labor. With no food in the house, or money to buy medicine for her sick child, she was compelled to seek me to-night, and to humble her spirit, which is an independent one, so low as to ask bread for her little ones, and the loan of a pittance with which to get what the doctor has ordered for her feeble sufferer at home.' "'Oh, what a shame!' fell from the lips of her in whom my heart felt more than a passing interest; and she looked at me earnestly as she spoke. "'She fully expected,' said the mother, 'to get a trifle that was due her from a young man who boards with Mrs. Corwin; and she went to see him this evening. But he put her off with some excuse. How strange that any one should be so thoughtless as to withhold from the poor their hard-earned pittance! It is but a small sum, at best, that the toiling seamstress or washerwoman can gain by her wearying labor. That, at least, should be promptly paid. To withhold it an hour is to do, in many cases, a great wrong.' "For some minutes after this was said, there ensued a dead silence. I felt that the thoughts of all were turned upon me as the one who had withheld from poor Mrs. Blake the trifling sum due her for washing. What my feelings were, it is impossible for me to describe; and difficult for any one, never himself placed in so unpleasant a position, to imagine. "My relief was great when the conversation flowed on again, and in another channel; for I then perceived that suspicion did not rest upon me. You may be sure that Mrs. Blake had her money before ten o'clock on the next day, and that I never again fell into the error of neglecting, for a single week, my poor washerwoman." "Such a confession from you, Mr. Smith, of all men," said I, feeling a little uncomfortable, that he should have told this story of himself. "We are none of us perfect," he answered, "He is best, who, conscious of natural defects and evils, strives against, and overcomes them." CHAPTER XXVIII. MY BORROWING NEIGHBOR. "I THINK, my dear," said I to my husband one day, "that we shall have to move from here." "Why so?" asked Mr. Smith, in surprise. "It is a very comfortable house. I am certain we will not get another as desirable at the same rent." "I don't know that we will. But--" Just as I said this, my cook opened the door of the room where we were sitting and said-- "Mrs. Jordon, ma'am, wants to borrow half a pound of butter. She says, they are entirely out, and their butter-man won't come before to-morrow." "Very well, Bridget, let her have it." The cook retired. "Why do you wish to move, Jane?" asked my husband, as the girl closed the door. "Cook's visit was quite apropos," I replied. "It is on account of the 'half pound of butter,' 'cup of sugar,' and 'pan of flour' nuisance." "I don't exactly comprehend you, Jane," said my husband. "It is to get rid of a borrowing neighbor. The fact is, Mrs. Jordon is almost too much for me. I like to be accommodating; it gives me pleasure to oblige my neighbors; I am ready to give any reasonable obedience to the Scripture injunction--_from him that would borrow of thee, turn thou not away_; but Mrs. Jordon goes beyond all reason." "Still, if she is punctual in returning what she gets, I don't know that you ought to let it annoy you a great deal." "There lies the gist of the matter, my dear," I replied. "If there were no 'if,' such as you suggest, in the case, I would not think a great deal about it. But, the fact is, there is no telling the cups of sugar, pans of flour, pounds of butter, and little matters of salt, pepper, vinegar, mustard, ginger, spices, eggs, lard, meal, and the dear knows what all, that go out monthly, but never come back again. I verily believe we suffer through Mrs. Jordon's habit of borrowing not less than fifty or sixty dollars a year. Little things like these count up." "So bad as that, is it?" said my husband. "Indeed it is; and when she returns anything, it is almost always of an inferior quality, and frequently thrown away on that account." While we were talking, the tea bell rang, and we retired to the dining-room. "What's the matter with this tea?" asked Mr. Smith, pushing the cup I had handed him aside, after leaving sipped of its contents. "I never tasted such stuff. It's like herb tea." "It must be something in the water," replied I. "The tea is the same we have been using all along." I poured some into a cup and tasted it. "Pah!" I said, with disgust, and rang the bell. The cook entered in a few moments. "Bridget, what's the matter with your tea? It isn't fit to drink. Is it the same we have been using?" "No, ma'am," replied Bridget. "It is some Mrs. Jordon sent home. I reminded Nancy, when she was here for butter, that they owed us some tea, borrowed day before yesterday, and she came right back with it, saying that Mrs. Jordon was sorry it had slipped her mind. I thought I would draw it by itself, and not mix it with the tea in our canister." "You can throw this out and draw fresh tea, Bridget; we can't drink it," said I, handing her the tea-pot. "You see how it works," I remarked as Bridget left the room, and my husband leaned back in his chair to wait for a fresh cup of tea. "One half of the time, when anything is returned, we can't use it. The butter Mrs. Jordon got a little while ago, if returned to-morrow, will not be fit to go on our table. We can only use it for cooking." "It isn't right," sententiously remarked my husband. "The fact is," he resumed, after a slight pause, "I wouldn't lend such a woman anything. It is a downright imposition." "It is a very easy thing to say that, Mr. Smith. But I am not prepared to do it. I don't believe Mrs. Jordon means to do wrong, or is really conscious that she is trespassing upon us. Some people don't reflect. Otherwise she is a pleasant neighbor, and I like her very much. It is want of proper thought, Mr. Smith, and nothing else." "If a man kept treading on my gouty toe for want of thought," said my husband, "I should certainly tell him of it, whether he got offended I or not. If his friendship could only be retained on these terms, I would prefer dispensing with the favor." "The case isn't exactly parallel, Mr. Smith," was my reply. "The gouty toe and crushing heel are very palpable and straightforward matters, and a man would be an egregious blockhead to be offended when reminded of the pain he was inflicting. But it would be impossible to make Mrs. Jordon at all conscious of the extent of her short-comings, very many of which, in fact, are indirect, so far as she is concerned, and arise from her general sanction of the borrowing system. I do not suppose, for a moment, that she knows about everything that is borrowed." "If she doesn't, pray who does?" inquired my husband. "Her servants. I have to be as watchful as you can imagine, to see that Bridget, excellent a girl as she is, doesn't suffer things to get out, and then, at the last moment, when it is too late to send to the store, run in to a neighbor's and borrow to hide her neglect. If I gave her a _carte blanche_ for borrowing, I might be as annoying to my neighbors as Mrs. Jordon." "That's a rather serious matter," said my husband. "In fact, there is no knowing how much people may suffer in their neighbors' good opinion, through the misconduct of their servants in this very thing." "Truly said. And now let me relate a fact about Mrs. Jordon, that illustrates your remark." (The fresh tea had come in, and we were going on with our evening meal.) "A few weeks ago we had some friends here, spending the evening. When about serving refreshments, I discovered that my two dozen tumblers had been reduced to seven or eight. On inquiry, I learned that Mrs. Jordon had ten--the rest had been broken. I sent to her, with my compliments, and asked her to return them, as I had some company, and wished to use them in serving refreshments. Bridget was gone some time, and when she returned, said that Mrs. Jordon at first denied having any of my tumblers. Her cook was called, who acknowledged to five, and, after sundry efforts on the part of Bridget to refresh her memory, finally gave in to the whole ten. Early on the next morning Mrs. Jordon came in to see me, and seemed a good deal mortified about the tumblers. "'It was the first I had heard about it,' she said. 'Nancy, it now appears, borrowed of you to hide her own breakage, and I should have been none the wiser, if you had not sent in. I have not a single tumbler left. It is too bad! I don't care so much for the loss of the tumblers, as I do for the mortifying position it placed me in toward a neighbor.'" "Upon my word!" exclaimed my husband. "That is a beautiful illustration, sure enough, of my remarks about what people may suffer in the good opinion of others, through the conduct of their servants in this very thing. No doubt Mrs. Jordon, as you suggest, is guiltless of a good deal of blame now laid at her door. It was a fair opportunity for you to give her some hints on the subject. You might have opened her eyes a little, or at least diminished the annoyance you had been, and still are enduring." "Yes, the opportunity was a good one, and I ought to have improved it. But I did not and the whole system, sanctioned or not sanctioned by Mrs. Jordon, is in force against me." "And will continue, unless some means be adopted by which to abate the nuisance." "Seriously, Mr. Smith," said I, "I am clear for removing from the neighborhood." But Mr. Smith said, "Nonsense, Jane!" A form of expression he uses, when he wishes to say that my proposition or suggestion is perfectly ridiculous, and not to be thought of for a moment. "What is to be done?" I asked. "Bear the evil?" "Correct it, if you can." "And if not, bear it the best I can?" "Yes, that is my advice." This was about the extent of aid I ever received from my husband in any of my domestic difficulties. He is a first-rate abstractionist, and can see to a hair how others ought to act in every imaginable, and I was going to say unimaginable case; but is just as backward about telling people what he thinks of them, and making everybody with whom he has anything to do toe the mark, as I am. As the idea of moving to get rid of my borrowing neighbor was considered perfect nonsense by Mr. Smith, I began to think seriously how I should check the evil, now grown almost insufferable. On the next morning the coffee-mill was borrowed to begin with. "Hasn't Mrs. Jordon got a coffee-mill of her own?" I asked of Bridget. "Yes, ma'am," she replied, "but it is such a poor one that Nancy won't use it. She says it takes her forever and a day to grind enough coffee for breakfast." "Does she get ours every morning?" "Yes, ma'am." Nancy opened the kitchen door at this moment--our back gates were side by side--and said-- "Mrs. Jordon says, will you oblige her so much as to let her have an egg to clear the coffee? I forgot to tell her yesterday that ours were all gone." "Certainly," I said. "Bridget, give Nancy an egg." "Mrs. Jordon is very sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Smith," said Nancy, re-appearing in a little while, and finding me still in the kitchen, "but she says if you will lend her a bowl of sugar it will be a great accommodation. I forgot to tell her yesterday that the sugar was all gone." "You appear to be rather forgetful of such matters, Nancy," I could not help saying. "I know I am a little forgetful," the girl said, good humoredly, "but I have so much to do, that I hardly have time to think." "Where is the large earthen dish that you use sometimes in making bread?" I asked, after Mrs. Jordon's cook had withdrawn, missing it from its usual place on the shelf. "Nancy borrowed it last week." "Why don't she bring it home?" "I've told her about it three or four times." Nancy opened the door again. "Please, ma'am to let Mrs. Jordon have another half pound of butter. We haven't enough to do for breakfast, and the butter man don't come until the middle of the day." Of course, I couldn't refuse, though I believe I granted the request with no very smiling grace. I heard no more of Nancy until toward dinner-time. I had given my cook orders not to lend her anything more without first coming to me. "Mrs. Jordon has sent in to know if you won't lend her two or three scuttles full of coal," said Bridget. "Mr. Jordon was to have sent home the fires are going down." "Certainly," I replied, "let her have it, but I want you to see that it is returned." "As to that, ma'am, I'll do my best; but I can't get Nancy to return one half what she borrows. She forgets from one day to another." "She mustn't forget," I returned, warmly. "You must go to Mrs. Jordon yourself. It isn't right." "I shall have to go, I guess, before I'm able to get back a dozen kitchen things of ours they have. I never saw such borrowing people. And then, never to think of returning what they get. They have got one of our pokers, the big sauce-pan and the cake-board. Our muffin rings they've had these three months. Every Monday they get two of our tubs and the wash-boiler. Yesterday they sent in and got our large meat-dish belonging to the dinner-set, and haven't sent it home yet. Indeed, I can't tell you all they've got." "Let Nancy have the coal," said I. "But we must stop this in some way, if it be possible." For three or four days the same thing was kept up, until I lost all patience, and resolved, offence or no offence, to end a system that was both annoying and unjust. Mrs. Jordon called in to see me one day, and sat conversing in a very pleasant strain for an hour. She was an agreeable companion, and I was pleased with the visit. In fact, I liked Mrs. Jordon. About an hour after she was gone, Nancy came into the kitchen, where I happened to be. "What's wanted now?" said I. My voice expressed quite as much as my words. I saw the color flush in Nancy's face. "Mrs. Jordon says, will you please to lend her a pan of flour? She will return it to-morrow." "Tell Mrs. Jordon," I replied, "that we are going to make up bread this afternoon, and haven't more than enough flour left, or I would let her have what she wants. And, by the way, Nancy, tell Mrs. Jordon that I will be obliged to her if she will send in my large earthen dish. We want to use it." Nancy didn't seem pleased. And I thought she muttered something to herself as she went away. Not five minutes elapsed before word came to my room that Mrs. Jordon was in the parlor and wished to speak to me. "Now for trouble," thought I. Sure enough, when I entered the parlor, the knit brow, flushed face, and angry eyes of my neighbor told me that there was to be a scene. "Mrs. Smith," she began, without ceremony or apology for her abruptness of manner, "I should like to know what you mean by the manner in which you refused to let me have a little flour just now?" "How did I refuse?" I was cool enough to inquire. "You refused in a manner which plainly enough snowed that you thought me a troublesome borrower. 'What's wanted now?' I think rather strange language to use to a domestic of mine." Really, thought I, this caps the climax. "To speak the plain truth, Mrs. Jordon," said I, "and not wishing to give any offence, you do use the privilege of a neighbor in this respect rather freely--more freely, I must own, than I feel justified in doing." "Mrs. Smith, this is too much!" exclaimed Mrs. Jordon. "Why you borrow of me twice where I borrow of you once. I am particularly careful in matters of this kind." I looked at the woman with amazement. "Borrow of you?" I asked. "Certainly!" she replied, with perfect coolness. "Scarcely a day passes that you do not send in for something or other. But dear knows! I have always felt pleasure in obliging you." I was mute for a time. "Really, Mrs. Jordon," said I, at length, as composedly as I could speak, "you seem to be laboring under some strange mistake. The charge of frequent borrowing, I imagine, lies all on the other side. I can name a dozen of my things in your house now, and can mention as many articles borrowed within the last three days." "Pray do so," was her cool reply. "You have my large wash-boiler," I replied, "and two of my washing tubs. You borrow them every Monday, and I have almost always to send for them." "I have your wash-boiler and tubs? You are in error, Mrs. Smith. I have a large boiler of my own, and plenty of tubs." "I don't know what you have, Mrs. Jordon; but I do know that you get mine every week. Excuse me for mentioning these things--I do so at your desire. Then, there is my coffee-mill, borrowed every morning." "Coffee-mill! Why should I borrow your coffee-mill? We have one of our own." "Yesterday you borrowed butter, and eggs, and sugar," I continued. "I?" my neighbor seemed perfectly amazed. "Yes; and the day before a loaf of bread--an egg to clear your coffee--salt, pepper, and a nutmeg." "Never!" "And to-day Nancy got some lard, a cup of coffee, and some Indian meal for a pudding." "She did?" asked Mrs. Jordon in a quick voice, a light seeming to have flashed upon her mind. "Yes," I replied, "for I was in the kitchen when she got the lard and meal, and Bridget mentioned the coffee as soon as I came down this morning." "Strange!" Mrs. Jordon looked thoughtful. "It isn't a week since we got coffee, and I am sure our Indian meal cannot be out." "Almost every week Nancy borrows a pound or a half pound of butter on the day before your butter man comes; and more than that, doesn't return it, or indeed anything she gets more than a third of the time." "Precisely the complaint I have to make against you," said Mrs. Jordon, looking me steadily in the face. "Then," said I "there is something wrong somewhere, for to my knowledge nothing has been borrowed from you or any body else for months. I forbid anything of the kind." "Be that as it may, Mrs. Smith; Nancy frequently comes to me and says you have sent in for this, that, and the other thing--coffee, tea, sugar, butter; and, in fact, almost everything used in a family." "Then Nancy gets them for her own use," said I. "But I have often seen Bridget in myself for things." "My Bridget!" I said, in surprise. I instantly rang the bell. "Tell Bridget I want her," said I to the waiter who came to the door. The cook soon appeared. "Bridget, are you in the habit of borrowing from Mrs. Jordon without my knowledge?" "No, ma'am!" replied the girl firmly, and without any mark of disturbance in her face. "Din't you get a bar of soap from our house yesterday?" asked Mrs. Jordon. "Yes, ma'am," returned Bridget, "but it was soap you owed us." "Owed you!" "Yes, Ma am. Nancy got a bar of soap from me last washing-day, and I went in for it yesterday." "But Nancy told me you wanted to borrow it," said Mrs. Jordon. "Nancy knew better," said Bridget, with a face slightly flushed; but any one could see that it was a flush of indignation. "Will you step into my house and tell Nancy I want to see her?" "Certainly, ma'am." And Bridget retired. "These servants have been playing a high game, I fear," remarked Mrs. Jordon, after Bridget had left the room. "Pardon me, if in my surprise I have spoken in a manner that has seemed offensive." "Most certainly there is a game playing that I know nothing about, if anything has been borrowed of you in my name for these three months," said I. "I have heard of your borrowing something or other almost every day during the time you mention," replied Mrs. Jordon. "As for me, I have sent into you a few times; but not oftener, I am sure, than once in a week." Bridget returned, after having been gone several minutes, and said Nancy would be in directly. We waited for some time, and then sent for her again. Word was brought back that she was nowhere to be found in the house. "Come in with me, Mrs. Smith," said my neighbor, rising. I did so, according to her request. Sure enough, Nancy was gone. We went up into her room, and found that she had bundled up her clothes and taken them off, but left behind her unmistakable evidence of what she had been doing. In an old chest which Mrs. Jordon had let her use for her clothes were many packages of tea, burnt coffee, sugar, soap, eggs; a tin kettle containing a pound of butter, and various other articles of table use. Poor Mrs. Jordon seemed bewildered. "Let me look at that pound lump of butter," said I. Mrs. Jordon took up the kettle containing it. "It isn't my butter," she remarked. "But it's mine, and the very pound she got of me yesterday for you." "Gracious me!" ejaculated my neighbor. "Was anything like this ever heard?" "She evidently borrowed on your credit and mine--both ways," I remarked with a smile, for all my unkind feelings toward Mrs. Jordon were gone, "and for her own benefit." "But isn't it dreadful to think of, Mrs. Smith? See what harm the creature has done! Over and over again have I complained of your borrowing so much and returning so little; and you have doubtless made the same complaint of me." "I certainly have. I felt that I was not justly dealt by." "It makes me sick to think of it." And Mrs. Jordon sank into a chair. "Still I don't understand about the wash-boiler and tubs that you mentioned," she said, after a pause. "You remember my ten tumblers," I remarked. "Perfectly. But can she have broken up my tubs and boiler, or carried them off?" On searching in the cellar we found the tubs in ruins, and the wash-boiler with a large hole in the bottom. I shall never forget the chagrin, anger, and mortification of poor Mrs. Jordon when, at her request, Bridget pointed out at least twenty of my domestic utensils that Nancy had borrowed to replace such as she had broken or carried away. (It was a rule with Mrs. Jordon to make her servants pay for every thing they broke.) "To think of it!" she repeated over and over again. "Just to think of it! Who could have dreamed of such doings?" Mrs. Jordon was, in fact, as guiltless of the sin of troublesome borrowing from a neighbor as myself. And yet I had seriously urged the propriety of moving out of the neighborhood to get away from her. We both looked more closely to the doings of our servants after this pretty severe lesson; and I must freely confess, that in my own case, the result was worth all the trouble. As trusty a girl as my cook was, I found that she would occasionally run in to a neighbor's to borrow something or other, in order to hide her own neglect; and I only succeeded in stopping the the evil by threatening to send her away if I ever detected her in doing it again. CHAPTER XXIX. EXPERIENCE IN TAKING BOARDERS. I HAVE no experiences of my own to relate on this subject. But I could fill a book with the experiences of my friends. How many poor widows, in the hope of sustaining their families and educating their children, have tried the illusive, and, at best, doubtful experiment of taking boarders, to find themselves in a year or two, or three, hopelessly involved in debt, a life time of labor would fail to cancel. Many, from pride, resort to this means of getting a living, because--why I never could comprehend--taking boarders is thought to be more genteel than needlework or keeping a small store for the sale of fancy articles. The experience of one of my friends, a Mrs. Turner, who, in the earlier days of her sad widowhood, found it needful to make personal effort for the sustenance of her family, I will here relate. Many who find themselves in trying positions like hers, may, in reviewing her mistakes, be saved from similar ones themselves. "I don't know what we shall do!" exclaimed Mrs. Turner, about six months after the death of her husband, while pondering sadly over the prospect before her. She had one daughter about twenty, and two sons who were both under ten years of age. Up to this time she had never known the dread of want. Her husband had been able to provide well for his family; and they moved in a very respectable, and somewhat showy circle. But on his death, his affairs were found to be much involved, and when settled, there was left for the widow and children only about the sum of four thousand dollars, besides the household furniture, which was very handsome. This sad falling off in her prospects, had been communicated to Mrs. Turner a short time before, by the administrator on the estate; and its effect was to alarm and sadden her extremely. She knew nothing of business, and yet, was painfully conscious, that four thousand dollars would be but a trifle to what she would need for her family, and that effort in some direction was now absolutely necessary. But, besides her ignorance of any calling by which money could be made, she had a superabundance of false pride, and shrunk from what she was pleased to consider the odium attached to a woman who had to engage in business. Under these circumstances, she had a poor enough prospect before her. The exclamation as above recorded, was made in the presence of Mary Turner, her daughter, a well educated girl, who had less of that false pride which obscured her mother's perceptions of right. After a few moments' silence the latter said-- "And yet we must do something, mother." "I know that, Mary, too well. But I know of nothing that we can do." "Suppose we open a little dry goods' store?" suggested Mary. "Others seem to do well at it, and we might. You know we have a great many friends." "Don't think of it, Mary! We could not expose ourselves in that way." "I know that it would not be pleasant, mother; but, then, we must do something." "It must be something besides that, Mary. I can't listen to it. It's only a vulgar class of women who keep stores." "I am willing to take in sewing, mother; but, then, all I could earn would go but a little way towards keeping the family. I don't suppose I could even pay the rent, and that you know, is four hundred dollars." "Too true," Mrs. Turner said, despondingly. "Suppose I open a school?" suggested Mary. "O no! no! My head would never stand the noise and confusion. And, any way, I never did like a school." "Then I don't know what we shall do, unless we take some boarders." "A little more genteel. But even that is low enough." "Then, suppose, mother we look for a lower rent, and try to live more economically. I will take in sewing, and we can try for awhile, and see how we get along." "O no, indeed, child. That would never do. We must keep up appearances, or we shall lose our place in society. You know that it is absolutely necessary for you and your brothers, that we should maintain our position." "As for me, mother," said Mary, in a serious tone, "I would not have you to take a thought in that direction. And it seems to me that our true position is the one where we can live most comfortably according to our means." "You don't know anything about it, child," Mrs. Turner replied, in a positive tone. Mary was silenced for the time. But a banishment of the subject did not, in any way, lesson the difficulties. Thoughts of these soon again became apparent in words; and the most natural form of these was the sentence-- "I don't know what we _shall_ do!" uttered by the mother in a tone of deep despondency. "Suppose we take a few boarders?" Mary urged, about three weeks after the conversation just alluded to. "No, Mary; we would be too much exposed: and then it would come very hard on you, for you know that I cannot stand much fatigue," Mrs. Turner replied, slowly and sadly. "O, as to that," said Mary, with animation: "I'll take all the burden off of you." "Indeed, child, I cannot think of it," Mrs. Turner replied, positively; and again the subject was dismissed. But it was soon again recurred to, and after the suggestion and disapproval of many plans, Mary again said-- "Indeed, mother, I don't see what we will do, unless we take a few boarders." "It's the only thing at all respectable, that I can think of," Mrs. Turner said despondingly; "and I'm afraid it's the best we can do." "I think we had better try it, mother, don't you?" "Well, perhaps we had, Mary. There are four rooms that we can spare; and these ought to bring us in something handsome." "What ought we to charge?" "About three dollars and a half for young men, and ten dollars for a man and his wife." "If we could get four married couples for the four rooms, that would be forty dollars a week, which would be pretty good," said Mary, warming at the thought. "Yes, if we could, Mary, we might manage pretty well. But most married people have children, and they are such an annoyance that I wouldn't have them in the house. We will have to depend mainly on the young men." It was, probably, three weeks after this, that an advertisement, running thus, appeared in one of the newspapers: "BOARDING--Five or six genteel young men, or a few gentlemen and their wives, can be accommodated with boarding at No.--Cedar street. Terms moderate." In the course of the following day, a man called and asked the terms for himself and wife. "Ten dollars," said Mrs. Turner. "That's too high--is it not?" remarked the man. "We cannot take you for less." "Have you a pleasant room vacant?" "You can have your choice of the finest in the house?" "Can I look at them, madam?" "Certainly, sir." And the stranger was taken through Mrs. Turner's beautifully furnished chambers. "Well, this is certainly a temptation," said the man, pausing and looking around the front chamber on the second floor. "And you have named your lowest terms?" "Yes, sir; the lowest." "Well, it's higher than I've been paying, but this looks too comfortable. I suppose we will have to strike a bargain." "Shall be pleased to accommodate you, sir." "We will come, then, to-morrow morning." "Very well, sir." And the stranger departed. "So much for a beginning," said Mrs. Turner, evidently gratified. "He seems to be much of a gentleman. If his wife is like him, they will make things very agreeable I am sure." "I hope she is," said Mary. On the next morning, the new boarders made their appearance, and the lady proved as affable and as interesting as the husband. "I always pay quarterly. This is the custom in all the boarding houses I have been in. But if your rules are otherwise, why just say so. It makes no difference to me," remarked the new boarder, in the blandest manner imaginable. "Just suit yourself about that, Mr. Cameron. It is altogether immaterial," Mrs. Turner replied, smiling. "I am in no particular want of money." Mr. Cameron bowed lower, and smiled more blandly, if possible, than before. "You have just opened a boarding house, I suppose, madam?" he said. "Yes sir, I am a new beginner at the business." "Ah--well, I must try and make you known all I can. You will find Mrs. Cameron, here, a sociable kind of a woman. And if I can serve you at any time, be sure to command me." "You are too kind!" Mrs. Turner responded, much pleased to have found, in her first boarders, such excellent, good-hearted people. In a few days, a couple of young men made application, and were received, and now commenced the serious duties of the new undertaking. Mary had to assume the whole care of the house. She had to attend the markets, and oversee the kitchen, and also to make with her own hands all the pastry. Still, she had, a willing heart, and this lightened much of the heavy burden now imposed upon her. "How do you like your new boarding house?" asked a friend of one of the young men who had applied, and been received. This was about two weeks after his entrance into Mrs. Turner's house. "Elegant," responded the young man, giving his countenance a peculiar and knowing expression. "Indeed? But are you in earnest?" "I am that. Why, we live on the very fat of the land." "Pshaw! you must be joking. Whoever heard of the fat of the land being found in a boarding house. They can't afford it." "I don't care, myself, whether they can afford it or not. But we do live elegantly. I wouldn't ask to sit down to a better table." "What kind of a room have you? and what kind of a bed?" "Good enough for a lord." "Nonsense!" "No, but I am in earnest, as I will prove to you. I sleep on as fine a bed as ever I saw, laid on a richly carved mahogany bedstead, with beautiful curtains. The floor is covered with a Brussels carpet, nearly new and of a rich pattern. There is in the room a mahogany wardrobe, an elegant piece of furniture--a marble top dressing bureau, and a mahogany wash-stand with a marble slab. Now if you don't call that a touch above a common boarding house, you've been more fortunate than I have been until lately." "Are there any vacancies there, Tom?" "There is another bed in my room." "Well, just tell them, to-night, that I'll be there to-morrow morning." "Very well." "And I know of a couple more that'll add to the mess, if there is room." "It's a large house, and I believe they have room yet to spare." A week more passed away, and the house had its complement, six young men, and the polite gentleman and his wife. This promised an income of thirty-one dollars per week. As an off-set to this, a careful examination into the weekly expenditure would have shown a statement something like the following: Marketing $12; groceries, flour, &c., $10; rent, $8; servants' hire-cook, chambermaid, and black boy, $4; fuel, and incidental expenses, $6--in all, $40 per week. Besides this, their own clothes, and the schooling of the two boys did not cost less than at the rate of $300 per annum. But neither Mrs. Turner nor Mary ever thought that any such calculation was necessary. They charged what other boarding house keepers charged, and thought, of course, that they must make a good living. But in no boarding house, even where much higher prices were obtained, was so much piled upon the table. Every thing, in its season, was to be found there, without regard to prices. Of course, the boarders were delighted, and complimented Mrs. Turner upon the excellent fare which they received. Mr. and Mrs. Cameron continued as affable and interesting as when they first came into the house. But the first quarter passed away, and nothing was said about their bill, and Mrs. Turner never thought of giving them a polite hint. Two of her young men were also remiss in this respect, but they were such gentlemanly, polite, attentive individuals, that, of course, nothing could be said. "I believe I've never had your bill, Mrs. Turner, have I?" Mr. Cameron said to her one evening, when about six months had passed. "No; I have never thought of handing it in. But it's no difference, I'm not in want of money." "Yes, but it ought to be paid. I'll bring you up a check from the counting-room in a few days." "Suit your own convenience, Mr. Cameron," answered Mrs. Turner, in an indifferent tone. "O, it's perfectly convenient at all times. But knowing that you were not in want of it, has made me negligent." This was all that was said on the subject for another quarter, during which time the two young men alluded to as being in arrears, went off, cheating the widow out of fifty dollars each. But nothing was said about it to the other boarders, and none of them knew of the wrong that had been sustained. Their places did not fill up, and the promised weekly income was reduced to twenty-four dollars. At the end of the third quarter, Mr. Cameron again recollected that he had neglected to bring up a check from the counting-room, and blamed himself for his thoughtlessness. "I am so full of business," said he, "that I sometimes neglect these little things." "But it's a downright shame, Mr. Cameron, when it's so easy for you to draw off a check and put it into your pocket," remarked his wife. "O, it's not a particle of difference," Mrs. Turner volunteered to say, smiling--though, to tell the truth, she would much rather have had the money. "Well, I'll try and bear it in mind this very night," and Mr. Cameron hurried away, as business pressed. The morning after Mr. Cameron's fourth quarter expired, he walked out, as usual, with his wife before breakfast. But when all assembled at the table, they had not (something very uncommon for them) returned. "I wonder what keeps Mr. and Mrs. Cameron?" remarked Mrs. Turner. "Why, I saw them leave in the steamboat for the South, this morning," said one of the boarders. "You must be mistaken," Mrs. Turner replied. "O no, ma'am, not at all. I saw them, and conversed with them before the boat started. They told me that they were going on as far as Washington." "Very strange!" ejaculated Mrs. Turner. "They said nothing to me about it." "I hope they don't owe you any thing," remarked one of the boarders. "Indeed, they do." "Not much, ma'am; I hope." "Over five hundred dollars." "O, that is too bad! How could you trust a man like Mr. Cameron to such an amount?" "Why, surely," said Mrs. Turner, "he is a respectable and a responsible merchant; and I was in no want of the money." "Indeed, Mrs. Turner, he is no such thing." "Then what is he?" "He is one of your gentlemen about town, and lives, I suppose, by gambling. At least such is the reputation he bears. I thought you perfectly understood this." "How cruelly I have been deceived!" said Mrs. Turner, unable to command her feelings; and rising, she left the table in charge of Mary. On examining Mr. and Mrs. Cameron's room, their trunk was found, but it was empty. The owners of it, of course, came not back to claim their property. The result of this year's experience in keeping boarders, was an income of just $886 in money, and a loss of $600, set off against an expense of $2380. Thus was Mrs. Turner worse off by $1494 at the end of the year, than she was when she commenced keeping boarders. But she made no estimates, and had not the most remote idea of how the matter stood. Whenever she wanted money, she drew upon the amount placed to her credit in bank by the administrator on her husband's estate, vainly imagining that it would all come back through the boarders. All that she supposed to be lost of the first year's business were the $600, out of which she had been cheated. Resolving to be more circumspect in future, another year was entered upon. But she could not help seeing that Mary was suffering from hard labor and close confinement, and it pained her exceedingly. One day she said to her, a few weeks after they had entered upon the second year-- "I am afraid, Mary, this is too hard for you. You begin to look pale and thin. You must spare yourself more." "I believe I do need a little rest, mother," said Mary; "but if I don't look after things, nobody will, and then we should soon have our boarders dissatisfied." "That is too true, Mary." "But I wouldn't mind it so much, mother, if I thought we were getting ahead. But I am afraid we are not." "What makes you think so, child?" "You know we have lost six hundred dollars already, and that is a great deal of money." "True, Mary; but we must be more careful in future. We will soon make that up, I am sure." "I hope so," Mary responded, with a sigh. She did not herself feel so sanguine of making it up. Still, she had not entered into any calculation of income and expense, leaving that to her mother, and supposing that all was right as a matter of course. As they continued to set an excellent table, they kept up pretty regularly their complement of boarders. The end of the second year would have shown this result, if a calculation had been made: cash income, $1306--loss by boarders, $150--whole expenses, $2000. Consequently, they were worse off at the end of the year by $694; or in the two years, $2188, by keeping boarders. And now poor Mrs. Turner was startled on receiving her bank book from the bank, settled up, to find that her four thousand dollars had dwindled down to $1812. She could not at first believe her senses. But there were all her checks regularly entered; and, to dash even the hope that there was a mistake, there were the cancelled checks, also, bearing her own signature. "Mary, what _shall_ we do?" was her despairing question, as the full truth became distinct to her mind. "You say we have sunk more than two thousand dollars in two years?" "Yes, my child." "And have had all our hard labor for nothing?" Mary continued, and her voice trembled as she thought of how much she had gone through in that time. "Yes." "Something must be wrong, mother. Let us do what we should have done at first, make a careful estimate of our expenses." "Well." "It costs us just ten dollars each week for marketing--and I know that our groceries are at least that, including flour; that you see makes twenty dollars, and we only get twenty-eight dollars for our eight boarders. Our rent will bring our expenses up to that. And then there are servants' wages, fuel, our own clothes, and the boys' schooling, besides what we lose every year, and the hundred little expenses which cannot be enumerated." "Bless me, Mary! No wonder we have gone behindhand." "Indeed, mother, it is not." "We have acted very blindly, Mary." "Yes, we have; but we must do so no longer. Let us give up our boarders, and move into a smaller house." "But what shall we do Mary? Our money will soon dwindle away." "We must do something for a living, mother, that is true. But if we cannot now see what we shall do, that is no reason why we should go on as we are. Our rent, you know, takes away from us eight dollars a week. We can get a house large enough for our own purposes at three dollars a week, or one hundred and fifty dollars a year, I am sure, thus saving five dollars a week there, and that money would buy all the plain food our whole family would eat." "But it will never do, Mary, for us to go to moving into a little bit of a pigeon-box of a house." "Mother, if we don't get into a cheaper house and husband our resources, we shall soon have no house to live in!" said Mary, with unwonted energy. "Well, child, perhaps you are right; but I can't bear the thought of it," Mrs. Turner replied. "And any how, I can't see what we are going to do then." "We ought to do what we see to be right, mother, had we not?" Mary asked, looking affectionately into her mother's face. "I suppose so, Mary." "Won't it be right for us to reduce our expenses, and make the most of what we have left?" "It certainly will, Mary." "Then let us do what seems to be right, and we shall see further, I am sure, as soon as we have acted." Thus urged, Mrs. Turner consented to relinquish her boarders, and to move into a small house, at a rent very considerably reduced. Many articles of furniture they were obliged to dispose of, and this added to their little fund some five hundred dollars. About two months after they were fairly settled, Mary said to her mother-- "I've been thinking a good deal lately, mother, about getting into something that would bring us in a living." "Well, child, what conclusion have you come to?" "You don't like the idea of setting up a little store?" "No, Mary, it is too exposing." "Nor of keeping a school?" "No." "Well, what do you think of my learning the dress-making business?" "Nonsense, Mary!" "But, mother, I could learn in six months, and then we could set up the business, and I am sure we could do well. Almost every one who sets up dress-making, gets along." "There was always something low to me in the idea of a milliner or mantua maker, and I cannot bear the thought of your being one," Mrs. Turner replied, in a decided tone. "You know what Pope says, mother-- 'Honor and shame from no _condition_ rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies.'" "Yes, but that is poetry, child." "And song is but the eloquence of truth, some one has beautifully said," responded Mary, smiling. The mother was silent, and Mary, whose mind had never imbibed, fully, her mother's false notions, continued-- "I am sure there can be no wrong in my making dresses. Some one must make them, and it is the end we have in view, it seems to me, that determines the character of an action. If I, for the sake of procuring an honest living for my mother, my little brothers, and myself, am willing to devote my time to dress-making, instead of sitting in idleness, and suffering James and Willie to be put out among strangers, then the calling is to me honorable. My aim is honorable, and the means are honest. Is it not so, mother?" "Yes, I suppose it is so. But then there was always something so degrading to me in the idea of being nothing but a dress-maker!" Just at that moment a young man, named Martin, who had lived with them during the last year of their experiment in keeping boarders, called in to see them. He kept a store in the city, and was reputed to be well off. He had uniformly manifested an interest in Mrs. Turner and her family, and was much liked by them. After he was seated. Mrs. Turner said to him-- "I am trying, Mr. Martin, to beat a strange notion out of Mary's head. She has been endeavouring to persuade me to let her learn the dress-making business." The young man seemed a little surprised at this communication, and Mary evinced a momentary confusion when it was made. He said, however, very promptly and pleasantly, turning to Mary-- "I suppose you have a good reason for it, Miss Mary." "I think I have, Mr. Martin," she replied, smiling. "We cannot live, and educate James and William, unless we have a regular income; and I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that what we have cannot last long--nor to another, that I am the only one in the family from whom any regular income can be expected." "And you are willing to devote yourself to incessant toil, night and day, for this purpose?" "Certainly I am," Mary replied, with a quiet, cheerful smile. "But it never will do, Mr. Martin, will it?" Mrs. Turner remarked. "Why not, Mrs. Turner?" "Because, it is not altogether respectable." "I do not see any thing disrespectable in the business; but, with Mary's motive for entering into it, something highly respectable and honorable," Mr. Martin replied, with unusual earnestness. Mrs. Turner was silenced. "And you really think of learning the business, and then setting it up?" said Mr. Martin, turning to Mary, with a manifest interest, which she felt, rather than perceived. "Certainly I do, if mother does not positively object." "Then I wish you all success in your praiseworthy undertaking. And may the end you have in view support you amid the wearisome toil." There was a peculiar feeling in Mr. Martin's tone that touched the heart of Mary, she knew not why. But certain it was, that she felt doubly nerved for the task she had proposed to herself. As Mr. Martin wended his way homeward that evening, he thought of Mary Turner with an interest new to him. He had never been a great deal in her company while he boarded with her mother, because Mary was always too busy about household affairs, to be much in the parlor. But what little he had seen of her, made him like her as a friend. He also liked Mrs. Turner, and had from these reasons, frequently called in to see them since their removal. After going into his room, on his return home that evening, he sat down and remained for some time in a musing attitude. At length he got up, and took a few turns across the floor, and again seated himself, saying as he did so-- "If that's the stuff she's made of, she's worth looking after." From this period, Mr. Martin called to see Mrs. Turner more frequently, and as Mary, who had promptly entered upon the duties of a dress-maker's apprentice, came home every evening, he had as many opportunities of being with her and conversing with her as he desired. Amiable accomplished, and intelligent, she failed not to make, unconsciously to herself, a decided impression upon the young man's heart. Nor could she conceal from herself that she was happier in his company than she was at any other time. Week after week, and month after month, passed quickly away, and Mary was rapidly acquiring a skill in the art she was learning, rarely obtained by any. After the end of four months, she could turn off a dress equal to any one in the work-room. But this constant application was making sad inroads upon her health. For two years she had been engaged in active and laborious duties, even beyond her strength. The change from this condition to the perfectly sedentary, was more than her constitution could bear up under, especially as she was compelled to bend over her needle regularly, from ten to twelve hours each day. As the time for the expiration of her term of service approached, she felt her strength to be fast failing her. Her cheek had become paler and thinner, her step more languid, and her appetite was almost entirely gone. These indications of failing health were not unobserved by Mr. Martin. But, not having made up his mind, definitely, that she was precisely the woman he wanted for a wife, he could not interfere to prevent her continuance at the business which was too evidently destroying her health. But every time he saw her his interest in her became tenderer. "If no one steps forward and saves her," he would sometimes say to himself, as he gazed with saddened feelings upon her colorless cheek, "she will fall a victim in the very bloom of womanhood." And Mary herself saw the sad prospect before her. She told no one of the pain in her side, nor of the sickening sensation of weakness and weariness that daily oppressed her. But she toiled on and on, hoping to feel better soon. At last her probation ended. But the determined and ambitious spirit that had kept her up, now gave way. Martin knew the day when her apprenticeship expired, and without asking why, followed the impulse that prompted him, and called upon her in the evening. "Is any thing the matter, Mrs. Turner?" he asked, with a feeling of alarm, on entering the house and catching a glance at the expression of that lady's countenance. "Oh, yes, Mr. Martin, Mary is extremely ill," she replied, in evident painful anxiety. "What ails her?" he asked, showing equal concern. "I do not know, Mr. Martin. She came home this evening, and as soon as she reached her chamber fainted away. I sent for the doctor immediately, and he says that she must be kept very quiet, and that he will be here very early in the morning again. I am afraid she has overworked herself. Indeed, I am sure she has. For many weeks back, I have noticed her altered appearance and loss of appetite. It was in vain that I urged her to spare herself for a few weeks and make up the time afterwards. She steadily urged the necessity of getting into business as soon as possible, and would not give up. She has sacrificed herself, Mr. Martin, I very much fear, to her devotion to the family." And Mrs. Turner burst into tears. We need not say how sad and depressed Martin was, on turning away from the house, without the chance of seeing Mary, under the idea, too, of her dangerous illness. He called about ten o'clock the next morning, and learned that she was no better; that the doctor had been there, and pronounced her in a low nervous fever. Strict injunctions had been left that no one should be admitted to her room but the necessary attendants. Regularly every morning and evening Martin called to ask after Mary, for the space of fifteen days, and always received the sad information that she was no better. His feelings had now become intensely excited. He blamed himself for having favored the idea of Mary's going to learn a trade. "How easily I might have prevented it!" he said to himself. "How blind I was to her true worth! How much suffering and toil I might have saved her!" On the evening of the sixteenth day, he received the glad intelligence that Mary was better. That although greatly emaciated, and feeble as an infant, a decidedly healthy action had taken place, and the doctor expressed confident hopes of her recovery. "May I not see her, Mrs. Turner?" he asked, earnestly. "Not yet, Mr. Martin, The doctor is positive in his directions to have her kept perfectly quiet." Martin had, of course, to acquiesce, but with great reluctance. For five days more he continued to call in twice every day, and each time found her slightly improved. "May I not see her now?" he again asked, at the end of these additional days of anxious self-denial. "If you will not talk to her," said Mrs. Turner. Martin promised, and was shown up to her chamber. His heart sickened as he approached the bed-side, and looked upon the thin, white, almost expressionless face, and sunken eye, of her who was now the ruler of his affections. He took her hand, that returned a feeble, almost imperceptible pressure, but did not trust himself to utter her name. She hardly seemed conscious of his presence, and he soon turned away, sad, very sad, yet full of hope for her recovery. The healthy action continued, and in a week Mary could bear conversation. As soon as she could begin to sit up, Martin passed every evening with her, and seeing, as he now did, with different eyes, he perceived in her a hundred things to admire that had before escaped his notice. Recovering rapidly, in a month she was fully restored to health, and looked better than she had for years. Just about this time, as Martin was making up his mind to declare himself her lover, he was surprised, on entering their parlor one evening, to find on the table a large brass door-plate, with the words, "MARY TURNER, FANCY DRESS MAKER," engraved upon it. "Why, what are you going to do with this Mary?" he asked, forgetting that she did not know his peculiar thoughts about her. "I am going to commence my business," she replied in a quiet tone. "I have learned a trade, and now I must turn it, if possible, to some good account." "But your health won't bear it, Mary," he urged. "Don't you know that you made yourself sick by your close application in learning your trade?" "I do, Mr. Martin; but still, you know why I learned my trade." Mr. Martin paused for a few moments, and then looking into her face, said-- "Yes, I know the reason, Mary, and I always admired your noble independence in acting as you did--nay," and he took her hand, "If you will permit me to say so, have loved you ever since I had a true appreciation of your character. May I hope for a return of kindred feelings?" Mary Turner's face became instantly crimsoned with burning blushes, but she did not withdraw her hand. A brief silence ensued, during which the only sounds audible to the ears of each, was the beating of their own hearts. Martin at length said-- "Have I aught to hope, Mary?" "You know, Mr. Martin," she replied, in a voice that slightly trembled, "that I have duties to perform beyond myself. However much my feelings may be interested, these cannot be set aside. Under present circumstances, my hand is not my own to give." "But, your duties will become mine, Mary; and most gladly will I assume them. Only give me your hand, and in return I will give you a home for all you love, and you can do for them just as your heart desires. Will you now be mine?" "If my mother object not," she said, bursting into tears. Of course, the mother had no objection to urge, and in a few weeks they were married. It was, perhaps, three months after this event, that the now happy family were seated in a beautifully furnished parlor, large enough to suit even Mrs. Turner's ideas. Something had turned their thoughts on the past, and Mary alluded to their sad experience in keeping boarders. "You did not lose much, did you?" asked her husband. "We sunk over two thousand dollars," Mary replied. "Is it possible! You paid rather dear, then, for your experience in keeping a boarding house." "So I then thought," Mary answered, looking into his face with a smile, "But I believe it was money well laid out. What you call a good investment." "How so?" Mary stooped down to the ear of her husband, who sat a little behind her mother, and whispered, "You are dull, dear--I got you by it, didn't I?" His young wife's cheek was very convenient, and his lips touched it almost involuntarily. "What is that, Mary?" asked her mother, turning towards them, for she had heard her remark, and was waiting for the explanation. "Oh, nothing, mother, it was only some of my fun." "You seem quite full of fun, lately," said Mrs. Turner, with a quiet smile of satisfaction, and again bent her eyes upon the book she was reading. CHAPTER XXX. TWO WAYS WITH DOMESTICS. "AH, good morning, dear! I'm really glad to see you," said Helen Armitage to her young friend Fanny Milnor, as the latter came in to sit an hour with her. "I just wanted a little sunshine." "There ought to be plenty of sunshine here," returned Fanny smiling. "You always seem happy, and so does your mother and sister Mary, whenever I meet you abroad." "Abroad, or at home, makes quite a difference, Fanny. Precious little sunshine have we here. Not a day passes over our heads, that we are not thrown into hot water about something or other, with our abominable servants. I declare! I never saw the like, and it grows worse and worse every day." "Indeed! That is bad, sure enough. But can't you remedy this defect in some way?" "We try hard enough, dear knows! I believe we have had no less than, six cooks, and as many chambermaids in the last three months. But change only makes the matter worse. Sometimes they are so idle and dirty that we cannot tolerate them for a week. And then again they are so ill-natured, and downright saucy, that no one can venture to speak to them." As Helen Armitage said this, she arose from her chair, and walking deliberately across the room, rang the parlor bell, and then quietly walked back again and resumed her seat, continuing her remarks as she did so, upon the exhaustless theme she had introduced. In a little while a domestic entered. "That door has been left open by some one," the young lady said, in a half vexed tone of authority, and with a glance of reproof, as she pointed to the door of the back parlor leading into the passage. The servant turned quickly away, muttering as she did so, and left the parlor, slamming the door after her with a sudden, indignant jerk. "You see that!" remarked Helen, the color deepening on her cheeks, and her voice indicating a good deal of inward disturbance. "That's just the way we are served by nine out of ten of the people we get about us. They neglect every thing, and then, when reminded of their duty, flirt, and grumble, and fling about just as you saw that girl do this moment. I'll ring for her again, and make her shut that door as she ought to do, the insolent creature!" Helen was rising, when Fanny laid her hand on her arm, and said, in a quiet persuasive tone, "No--no--don't, Helen. She is out of temper, and will only retort angrily at further reproof. The better way is to pass over these things as if you did not notice them." "And let them ride over us rough shod, as they most certainly will! The fact is, with all our efforts to make them know and keep their places, we find it impossible to gain any true subordination in the house." "We never have any trouble of this kind," Fanny said. "You must be very fortunate then." "I don't know as to that. I never recollect an instance in which a domestic opposed my mother or failed to obey, cheerfully, any request. And we have had several in our house, within my recollection. At least half a dozen." "Half a dozen! Oh, dear! We have half a dozen a month sometimes! But come, let us go up to my room; I have some new prints to show you. They are exquisite. My father bought them for me last week." The two young ladies ascended to Helen's chamber in the third story. But the book of prints was not to be found there. "It is in the parlor, I recollect now," said Helen, ringing the bell as she spoke, with a quick, strong jerk. In about three or four minutes, and just as the young lady's patience was exhausted and her fingers were beginning to itch for another pull at the bell rope, the tardy waiting women appeared. "Hannah--Go down into the parlor, and bring me off of the piano a book you will find there. It is a broad flat book, with loose sheets in it." This was said in a tone of authority. The domestic turned away without speaking and went down stairs. In a little while she came back, and handed Helen a book, answering the description given. But it was a portfolio of music. "O no! Not this!" said she, with a curl of the lip, and an impatient tossing of her head. "How stupid you are, Hannah! The book I want, contains prints, and this is only a music book! There! Take it back, and bring me the book of prints." Hannah took the book, and muttering as she went out, returned to the parlor, down two long flights of stairs, and laid it upon the piano. "If you want the pictures, you may get them yourself, Miss; you've got more time to run up and down stairs than I have." As she said this Hannah left the parlor, and the book of prints lying upon the piano, and went back to the chamber she had been engaged in cleaning up when called away by Helen's bell. It was not long after she had resumed her occupation, before the bell sounded loudly through the passages. Hannah smiled bitterly, and with an air of resolution, as she listened to the iron summons. "Pull away to your heart's content, Miss!" she said, half audibly. "When you call me again take care and know what you want me for. I've got something else to do besides running up and down stairs to bring you pictures. Why didn't you look at them while you were in the parlor, or, take them up with you, if you wanted them in your chamber?" "Did you ever see the like!" ejaculated Helen, deeply disturbed at finding both her direction and her subsequent summons unattended to. "That's just the way we are constantly served by these abominable creatures." Two or three heavy jerks at the bell rope followed these remarks. "Pull away! It's good exercise for you!" muttered Hannah to herself. And this was all the notice she took of the incensed young lady, who was finally compelled to go down stairs and get the prints herself. But she was so much disturbed and caused Fanny to feel so unpleasantly that neither of them had any real enjoyment in examining the beautiful pictures. After these had been turned over and remarked upon for some time, and they had spent an hour in conversation, the bell was again rung. Hannah, who came with her usual reluctance, was directed to prepare some lemonade, and bring it up with cake. This she did, after a good deal of delay, for which she was grumbled at by Helen. After the cake bad been eaten, and the lemonade drank, Hannah was again summoned to remove the waiter. This was performed with the same ill grace that every other service had been rendered. "I declare! these servants worry me almost to death!" Helen again broke forth. "This is just the way I am served whenever I have a visiter. It is always the time Hannah takes to be ill-natured and show off her disobliging, ugly temper." Fanny made no reply to this. But she had her own thoughts. It was plain enough to her mind, that her friend had only herself to blame, for the annoyance she suffered. After witnessing one or two mote petty contentions with the domestic, Fanny went away, her friend promising, at her particular request, to come and spend a day with her early in the ensuing week. It can do no harm, and may do good, for us to draw aside for an instant the veil that screened from general observation the domestic economy of the Armitage family. They were well enough off in the world as regards wealth, but rather poorly off in respect to self-government and that domestic wisdom which arranges all parts of a household in just subordination, and thus prevents collisions, or encroachments of one portion upon another. With them, a servant was looked upon as a machine who had nothing to do but to obey all commands. As to the rights of servants in a household, that was something of which they had never dreamed. Of course, constant rebellion, or the most unwillingly preformed duties, was the undeviating attendant upon their domestic economy. It was a maxim, with Mrs. Armitage, never to indulge or favor one of her people in the smallest matter. She had never done so in her life, she said, that she had got any thanks for it. It always made them presumptuous and dissatisfied. The more you did for them, the more they expected, and soon came to demand as a right what had been at first granted as a favor. Mrs. Armitage was, in a word, one of those petty domestic tyrants, who rule with the rod of apparent authority. Perfect submission she deemed the only true order in a household. Of course, true order she never could gain, for such a thing as perfect submission to arbitrary rule among domestics in this country never has and never will be yielded. The law of kindness and consideration is the only true law, and where this is not efficient, none other will or can be. As for Mrs. Armitage and her daughters, each one of whom bore herself towards the domestics with an air of imperiousness and dictation, they never reflected before requiring a service whether such a service would not be felt as burdensome in the extreme, and therefore, whether it might not be dispensed with at the time. Without regard to what might be going on in the kitchen, the parlor or chamber, bells were rung, and servants required to leave their half finished meals, or to break away in the midst of important duties that had to be done by a certain time, to attend to some trifling matter which, in fact, should never have been assigned to a domestic at all. Under this system, it was no wonder that a constant succession of complaints against servants should be made by the Armitages. How could it be otherwise? Flesh and blood could not patiently bear the trials to which these people were subjected. Nor was it any wonder, that frequent changes took place, or that they were only able to retain the most inferior class of servants, and then only for short periods. There are few, perhaps, who cannot refer, among their acquaintances, to a family like the Armitages. They may ordinarily be known by their constant complaints about servants, and their dictatorial way of speaking whenever they happen to call upon them for the performance of any duty. In pleasing contrast to them were the Milnors. Let us go with Helen in her visit to Fanny. When the day came which she had promised to spend with her young friend, Helen, after getting out of patience with the chambermaid for her tardy attendance upon her, and indulging her daily murmurs against servants, at last emerged into the street, and took her way towards the dwelling of Mr. Milnor. It was a bright day, and her spirits soon rose superior to the little annoyances that had fretted her for the past hour. When she met Fanny she was in the best possible humor; and so seemed the tidy domestic who had admitted her, for she looked very cheerful, and smiled as she opened the door. "How different from our grumbling, slovenly set!" Helen could not help remarking to herself, as she passed in. Fanny welcomed her with genuine cordiality, and the two young ladies were soon engaged in pleasant conversation. After exhausting various themes, they turned to music, and played, and sang together for half an hour. "I believe I have some new prints that you have never seen," said Fanny on their leaving the piano, and she looked around for the portfolio of engravings, but could not find it. "Oh! now I remember--it is up stairs. Excuse me for a minute and I will run and get it." As Fanny said this, she glided from the room. In a few minutes she returned with the book of prints. "Pardon me, Fanny--but why didn't you call a servant to get the port-folio for you? You have them in the house to wait upon you." "Oh, as to that," returned Fanny, "I always prefer to wait upon myself when I can, and so remain independent. And besides, the girls are all busy ironing, and I would not call them off from their work for any thing that I could do myself. Ironing day is a pretty hard day for all of them, for our family is large, and mother always likes her work done well." "But, if you adopt that system, you'll soon have them grumbling at the merest trifle you may be compelled to ask them to do." "So far from that, Helen, I never make a request of any domestic in the house, that is not instantly and cheerfully met. To make you sensible of the good effects of the system I pursue of not asking to be waited on when I can help myself, I will mention that as I came down just now with these engravings in my hand, I met our chambermaid on the stairs, with a basket of clothes in her hands--'There now, Miss Fanny,' she said half reprovingly, 'why didn't you call me to get that for you, and not leave your company in the parlor?' There is no reluctance about her, you see. She knows that I spare her whenever I can, and she is willing to oblige me, whenever she can do so." "Truly, she must be the eighth wonder of the world!" said, Helen in laughing surprise. "Who ever heard of a servant that asked as a favor to be permitted to serve you? All of which I ever saw, or heard, cared only to get out of doing every thing, and strove to be as disobliging as possible." "It is related of the good Oberlin," replied Fanny, "that he was asked one day by an old female servant who had been in his house for many years, whether there were servants in heaven. On his inquiring the reason for so singular a question, he received, in substance, this reply--'Heaven will be no heaven to me, unless I have the privilege of ministering to your wants and comfort there as I have the privilege of doing here. I want to be your servant even in heaven.' Now why, Helen, do you suppose that faithful old servant was so strongly attached to Oberlin?" "Because, I presume, he had been uniformly kind to her." "No doubt that was the principal reason. And that I presume is the reason why there is no domestic in our house who will not, at any time, do for me cheerfully, and with a seeming pleasure, any thing I ask of her. I am sure I never spoke cross to one of them in my life--and I make it a point never to ask them to do for me what I can readily do for myself." "Your mother must be very fortunate in her selection of servants. There, I presume, lies the secret. We never had one who would bear the least consideration. Indeed, ma makes it a rule on no account to grant a servant any indulgences whatever, it only spoils them, she says. You must keep them right down to it, or they soon get good for nothing." "My mother's system is very different," Fanny said--"and we have no trouble." The young ladies then commenced examining the prints, after which, Fanny asked to be excused a moment. In a little while she returned with a small waiter of refreshments. Helen did not remark upon this, and Fanny made no allusion to the fact of not having called a servant from the kitchen to do what she could so easily do herself. A book next engaged their attention, and occupied them until dinner time. At the stable, a tidy domestic waited with cheerful alacrity, so different from the sulky, slow attendance, at home. "Some water, Rachael, if you please." Or, "Rachael, step down and, bring up some hot potatoes." Or--"Here, Rachael," with a pleasant smile, "you have forgotten the salt spoons," were forms of addressing a waiter upon the table so different from what Helen had ever heard, that she listened to them with utter amazement. And she was no less surprised to see with what cheerful alacrity every direction, or rather request, was obeyed. After they all rose from the table, and had retired to the parlor, a pleasant conversation took place, in which no allusions whatever were made to the dreadful annoyance of servants, an almost unvarying subject of discourse at Mr. Armitage's, after the conclusion of nearly every badly cooked, illy served meal.--A discourse too often overheard by some one of the domestics and retailed in the kitchen, to breed confirmed ill-will, and a spirit of opposition towards the principal members of the family. Nearly half an hour had passed from the time they had risen from the table, when a younger sister of Fanny's, who was going out to a little afternoon party, asked if Rachael might not be called up from the kitchen to get something for her. "No, my dear, not until she has finished her dinner," was the mild reply of Mrs. Milnor. "But it won't take her over a minute, mother, and I am in a hurry." "I can't help it, my dear. You will have to wait. Rachael must not be disturbed at her meals. You should have thought of this before, dinner. You know I have always tried to impress upon your mind, that there are certain hours in which domestics must not be called upon to do any thing, unless of serious importance. They have their rights, as well, as we have, and it is just as wrong for us to encroach upon their rights, as it is for them to encroach upon ours." "Never mind, mother, I will wait," the little girl said, cheerfully. "But I thought, it was such a trifle, and would have taken her only a minute." "It is true, my dear, that is but a trifle. Still, even trifles of this kind we should form the habit of avoiding; for they may seriously annoy at a time when we dream not that they are thought of for a moment. Think how, just as you had seated yourself at the table, tired and hungry, you would like to be called away, your food scarcely tasted, to perform some task, the urgency of which to you, at least, was very questionable?" "I was wrong I know, mother," the child replied, "and you are right." All this was new and strange doctrine to Helen Armitage, but she was enabled to see, from the manner in which Mrs. Milnor represented the subject, that it was true doctrine. As this became clear to her mind, she saw with painful distinctness the error that had thrown disorder into every part of her mother's household; and more than this, she inwardly resolved, that, so far as her action was concerned, a new order of things should take place. In this she was in earnest--so much so, that she made some allusion to the difference of things at home, to what they were at Mrs. Milnor's, and frankly confessed that she had not acted upon the kind and considerate principles that seemed to govern all in this well-ordered family. "My dear child!" Mrs. Milnor said to her, with affectionate earnestness, in reply to this allusion--"depend upon it, four-fifths of the bad domestics are made so by injudicious treatment. They are, for the most part, ignorant of almost every thing, and too often, particularly, of their duties in a family. Instead of being borne with, instructed, and treated with consideration, they are scolded, driven and found fault with. Kind words they too rarely receive; and no one can well and cheerfully perform all that is required of her as a domestic, if she is never spoken to kindly, never considered--never borne with, patiently. It is in our power to make a great deal of work for our servants that is altogether unnecessary--and of course, in our power to save them many steps, and many moments of time. If we are in the chambers, and wish a servant for any thing, and she is down in the kitchen engaged, it is always well to think twice before we ring for her once. It may be, that we do not really want the attendance of any one, or can just as well wait until some errand has brought her up stairs. Then, there are various little things in which we can help ourselves and ought to do it. It is unpardonable, I think, for a lady to ring for a servant to come up one or two pairs of stairs merely to hand her a drink, when all she has to do is to cross the room, and get it for herself. Or for a young lady to require a servant to attend to all her little wants, when she can and ought to help herself, even if it takes her from the third story to the kitchen, half a dozen times a day. Above all, domestics should never be scolded. If reproof is necessary, let it be administered in a calm mild voice, and the reasons shown why the act complained of is wrong. This is the only way in which any good is done." "I wish my mother could only learn that," said Helen, mentally, as Mrs. Milnor ceased speaking. When she returned home, it was with a deeply formed resolution never again to speak reprovingly to any of her mother's domestics--never to order them to do any thing for her,--and never to require them to wait upon her when she could just as well help herself. In this she proved firm. The consequence was, an entire change in Hannah's deportment towards her, and a cheerful performance by her of every thing she asked her to do. This could not but be observed by her mother, and it induced her to modify, to some extent, her way of treating her servants. The result was salutary, and now she has far less trouble with them than she ever had in her life. All, she finds, are not so worthless as she had deemed them. CHAPTER XXXI. A MOTHER'S DUTY. I CLOSE my volume of rambling sketches, with a chapter more didactic and serious. The duties of the housekeeper and mother, usually unite in the same person; but difficult and perplexing as is the former relation, how light and easy are all its claims compared with those of the latter. Among my readers are many mothers--Let us for a little while hold counsel together. To the mind of a mother, who loves her children, no subject can have so deep an interest as that which has respect to the well being of her offspring. Young mothers, especially, feel the need, the great need of the hints and helps to be derived from others' experience. To them, the duty of rightly guiding, forming and developing the young mind is altogether a new one; at every step they feel their incompetence, and are troubled at their want of success. A young married friend, the mother of two active little boys, said to me, one day, earnestly, "Oh! I think, sometimes, that I would give the world if I only could see clearly what was my duty towards my children. I try to guide them aright--I try to keep them from all improper influences--but rank weeds continually spring up with the flowers I have planted. How shall I extirpate these, without injuring the others?" How many a young mother thus thinks and feels. It is indeed a great responsibility that rests upon her. With the most constant and careful attention, she will find the task of keeping out the weeds a hard one; but let her not become weary or discouraged. The enemy is ever seeking to sow tares amid her wheat, and he will do it if she sleep at her post. Constant care, good precept, and, above all, good example, will do much. The gardener whose eye is ever over, and whose hand is ever busy in his garden, accomplishes much; the measure of his success may be seen if the eye rest for but a moment on the garden of his neighbor, the sluggard. Even if a weed springs here and there, it is quickly plucked up, and never suffered to obstruct or weaken the growth of esculent plants. A mole may enter stealthily, marring the beauty of a flower-bed, and disturbing the roots of some garden-favorite, but through the careful husbandman's well set enclosure, no beasts find an entrance. So it will be with the watchful, conscientious mother. She will so fence around her children from external dangers and allurements, that destructive beasts will be kept out; and she will, at the same time cultivate the garden of their good affections, and extirpate the weeds, that her children may grow up in moral health and beauty. All this can be done. But the right path must be seen before we can walk in it. Every mother feels as the one I have alluded to; but some, while they feel as deeply, have not the clear perceptions of what is right that others have. Much has been written on the subject of guiding and governing children--much that is good, and much that is of doubtful utility. I will here present, from the pen of an English lady, whose work has not, we believe, been re-printed in this country, a most excellent series of precepts. They deserve to be written in letters of gold, and hung up in every nursery. She says-- "The moment a child is born into the world, a mother's duties commence; and of all those which God has allotted to mortals, there are none so important as those which devolve upon a mother. More feeble and helpless than any thing else of living creatures is an infant in the first days of its existence--unable to minister to its own wants, unable even to make those wants known: a feeble cry which indicates suffering, but not what or where the pain is, is all it can utter. But to meet this weakness and incapacity on the part of the infant, God has implanted in the heart of the mother a yearning affection to her offspring, so that she feels this almost inanimate being to be a part of herself, and every cry of pain acts as a dagger to her own heart. And to humanity alone, of all the tribes of animated beings, has a power been given to nullify this feeling. Beast, bird, and insect, attend to the wants of their offspring, accordingly as those wants require much or little assiduity. But woman, if she will, can drug and stupefy this feeling. She can commit the charge of her child to dependants and servants, and need only to take care that enough is provided to meet that child's wants, but need not see herself that those wants are actually met. But a woman who does this is far, very far, from doing her duty. Who is so fit to watch over the wants of infancy as she who gave that infant birth? Can a mother suppose, that if she can so stifle those sensibilities which prompt her to provide for the wants of her children, servants and dependants, in whom no such sensibilities exist, will be very solicitous about their charge? How many of the infant's cries will be unattended to, which would at once have made their way to the heart of a mother! and, therefore, how many of the child's wants will in consequence remain uncared for! No one can understand so well the wants of a child as a mother--no one is ever so ready to meet those wants as she; and, therefore, to none but a mother, under ordinary circumstances, should the entire charge of a child be committed, And in all countries in which, luxury has not so far attained the ascendency, that in order to partake of its pleasures a mother will desert her offspring, the cares and trials of maternal love are entered upon as the sweetest of enjoyments and the greatest of pleasures. It was a noble saying of a queen of France, "that none should share with her the privileges of a mother;" and if the same sentiment found its way into every heart, a very different aspect would soon be produced. How many, through ill-treatment and neglect in childhood, carry the marks to their dying day in weak and sickly constitutions! how many more in a distorted body and crippled limbs! These are but the too sure consequences of the neglect of a mother, and, consequent upon that, the neglect of servants, who, feeling the child a burden, lessen their own trouble; and many a mother who, perhaps, now that her child has grown up, weeps bitter tears over his infirmities, might have saved his pain and her own sorrow by attending to his wants in infancy. "Can a mother forget her sucking child?" asks the inspired penman, in a way that it would seem to be so great an anomaly as almost to amount to an impossibility. Yet modern luxury not only proves that such a thing can be done, but it is one even of common occurrence. But if done, surely some great stake must be pending--something on which life and property are concerned--that a mother can thus forget the child of her bosom? Alas! no; the child is neglected, that no interruption may take place in the mother's stream of pleasure. For the blandishments of the theatre, or the excitements of the dance, is a child left to the charge of those who have nothing of love for it--no sympathy for its sufferings, no joyousness in sharing in its pleasures. A woman forfeits all claim to the sacred character of a mother if she abandon her offspring to the entire care of others: for ere she can do this, she must have stifled all the best feelings of her nature, and become "worse than the infidel"--for she gives freely to the stranger, and neglects her own. Therefore should a woman, if she would fulfil her duty, make her child her first care. It is not necessary that her whole time should be spent in attending to its wants; but it is necessary that so much of the time should be spent, that nothing should be neglected which could add to the child's comfort and happiness. And not only is it needful that a woman should show a motherly fondness for her child, so that she should attend to its wants and be solicitous for its welfare; it is also necessary that she should know how those wants are best to be provided for, and how that welfare is best to be consulted: for to the natural feelings which prompt animals to provide for their offspring, to humanity is added the noble gift of reason; so that thought and solicitude are not merely the effects of blind instinct, but the produce of a higher and nobler faculty. As we have already adverted to this point, we shall only say, that without a knowledge of how the physical wants of a child are to be met in the best manner, a mother cannot be said to be performing her duty; for the kindness which is bestowed may be but the result of natural feeling, which it would be far harder to resist than to fulfil; whereas the want of knowledge may have resulted from ignorance and idleness, and the loss of this knowledge will never be made up by natural kindness and love: it will be like trying to work without hands, or to see when the eyes are blinded. But there is yet a higher duty devolving upon woman. She has to attend to the mental and moral wants of her offspring, as well as to the physical. And helpless as we are born into the world if reference be made to our physical wants, we are yet more helpless if reference be made to our mental and moral. We come into the world with evil passions, perverted faculties, and unholy dispositions: for let what will be said of the blandness and attractiveness of children, there are in those young hearts the seeds of evil; and it needs but that a note be taken of what passes in the every-day life of a child, to convince that all is not so amiable as at first sight appears, but that the heart hides dark deformity, headstrong passions, and vicious thoughts. And to a mother's lot it falls to be the instructress of her children--their guide and pattern, and she fails in her duty when she fails in either of these points. But it may be said, that the requirement is greater than humanity can perform, and that it would need angelic purity to be able fully to meet it; for who shall say that she is so perfect that no inconsistencies shall appear between what she teaches and what she practises? It would be, indeed, to suppose mothers more than human to think that their instructions should be perfect. The best of mothers are liable to err, and the love a mother has for her child may tempt her frequently to pass over faults which she knows ought to be corrected. But making due allowance for human incompetency and human weakness, still will a mother be bound to the utmost of her power to be the instructress of her child, equally by the lesson she inculcates and the pattern she exhibits. There is, indeed, too much neglect shown in the instruction of children. Mothers seem to think, that if amiable qualities are shown in the exterior, no instruction is necessary for the heart. But this is a most futile attempt to make children virtuous; it is like attempting to purify water half-way down the stream, and leaving it still foul at the source. The heart should be the first thing instructed; a motive and a reason should be given for every requirement--a motive and a reason should be given for every abstinence called for--and when the heart is made to love virtue, the actions will be those of virtue; for it is the heart which is the great mover of all actions--and the moment a child can distinguish between a smile and a frown, from that moment should instruction commence--an instruction suited indeed to infantine capacities, but which should be enlarged as the child's capacities expand. It is very bad policy to suffer the first years of a child's life to pass without instruction; for if good be not written on the mind, there is sure to be evil. It is a mother's duty to watch the expanding intellect of her child, and to suit her instructions accordingly: it is equally so to learn its disposition--to study its wishes, its hopes and its fears, and to direct, control, and point them to noble aims and ends. Oh! not alone is it needful that a mother be solicitous for the health and happiness of her child on earth: a far higher and more important thought should engage her attention--concern for her child as an immortal and an accountable being. To all who bear the endearing name of mother, thus would we speak: That child with whom you are so fondly playing--whose happy and smiling countenance might serve for the representation of a cherub, and whose merry laugh rings joyously and free--yes! that blooming child, notwithstanding all these pleasing and attractive smiles, has a heart prone to evil. To you is it committed to be the teacher of that child; and on that teaching will mainly if not entirely depend its future happiness or misery; not of a few brief years--not of a life-time, but of eternity; for though a dying creature, it is still immortal, and the happiness or misery of that immortality depends upon your instruction. Will you neglect or refuse to be your child's teacher? Shall the world and its pleasures draw off your attention from your duty when so much is at stake? or, will you leave your child to glean knowledge as best it can, thus imbibing all principles and all habits, most of them unwholesome, and many poisonous? You can decide--you, the mother. You gave it life, you may make that life a blessing or a curse, as you inculcate good or evil; for if through your neglect, or through bad example, you let evil passions obtain an ascendency, that child may grow into a dissolute and immoral man; his career may be one of debauchery and profaneness; and then, when he comes to die, in the agonies of remorse, in the delirium of a conscience-stricken spirit, he may gasp out his last breath with a curse on your head, for having given him life, but not a disposition to use it aright, so that his has been a life of shame and disgrace here, and will be one of misery hereafter. That child's character is yet untainted; with you that decision rests--his destiny is in your hands. He may have dispositions the most dark and foul--falseness, hatred and revenge; but you may prevent their growth. He may have dispositions the most bland and attractive; you can so order it that contact with the world shall never sully them. Yes, you--the mother--can prevent the evil and nurture the good. You can teach that child--you can rear it, discipline it. You can make your offspring so love you, that the memory of your piety shall prevent their wickedness, and the hallowed recollection of your goodness stimulate their own. And equally in your power is it to neglect your child. By suffering pleasure to lure you--by following the follies of fashion, or by the charm of those baubles which the world presents to the eye, but keeps from your grasp--you may neglect your child. But you have neglected a plain and positive duty--a duty which is engraven on your heart and wound into your nature: and a duty neglected is sure, sooner or later, to come back again as an avenger to punish; while, on the other hand, a duty performed to the best of the ability returns back to the performer laden with a blessing. But it may be said, how are children to be trained in order that happiness may be the result? It is quite impossible to lay down rules for the management of children; since those which would serve for guidance in regulating the conduct of one child, would work the worst results when applied to another. But we mention a few particulars. The grand secret in the management of children is to treat them as reasonable beings. We see that they are governed by hope, fear, and love: these feelings, then, should be made the instruments by which their education is conducted. Whenever it is possible (and it is very rarely that it is not), a reason should be given for every requirement, and a motive for the undertaking any task: this would lead the child to see that nothing was demanded out of caprice or whim, but that it was a requirement involving happiness as well as duty. This method would also teach the child to reverence and respect the parent. She would be regarded as possessed of superior knowledge; and he would the more readily undertake demands for which he could see no reason, from a knowledge that no commands of which he understood the design were ever unreasonable. The manner of behaving to children should be one of kindness, though marked by decision of character. An over fondness should never allow a mother to gratify her child in any thing unreasonable; and after having once refused a request--which she should not do hastily or unadvisedly--no coaxing or tears should divert her from her purpose; for if she gives way, the child will at once understand that he has a power over his mother, and will resort to the same expedient whenever occasion may require; and a worse evil than this is, that respect for the parent will be lost, and the child, in place of yielding readily to her wishes, will try means of trick and evasion to elude them. In order to really manage a child well, a mother should become a child herself; she should enter into its hopes and fears, and share its joys and sorrows; she should bend down her mind to that of her offspring, so as to be pleased with all those trivial actions which give it pleasure, and to sorrow over those which bring it pain. This would secure a love firm and ardent, and at the same time lasting; for as a child advanced in strength of intellect, so might the mother, until the child grew old enough to understand the ties which bound them; and then, by making him a friend, she would bind him to her for life. There are none of the human race so sagacious and keensighted as children: they seem to understand intuitively a person's disposition, and they quickly notice any discrepancies or inconsistencies of conduct. On this point should particular attention be paid, that there be nothing practised to cheat the child. Underhand means are frequently resorted to, to persuade a child to perform or abstain from some particular duty or object; but in a very short time it will be found out, and the child has been taught a lesson in deception which it will not fail to use when occasion requires. And under this head might be included all that petty species of deceit used towards children, whether to mislead their apprehension, or to divert their attention. If any thing be improper for a child to know or do, better tell him so at once, than resort to an underhand expedient. If a reason can be given for requiring the abstinence; it should; but if not tell the child that the reason is such that he could not comprehend it, and he will remain satisfied. But if trick or scheming be resorted to, the child will have learned the two improper lessons of first being cunning, and then telling a falsehood to avoid it. In whatever way you wish to act upon a child, always propose the highest and noblest motive--this will generally be a motive which centres in God. Thus, in teaching a child to speak the truth, it should be proposed not so much out of obedience to parents, as out of obedience to God; and in all requirements the love and fear of God should be prominently set forth. A child is born with feelings of religion; and if these feelings are properly called forth, the actions will generally have a tendency to good. Thus, with a child whose disposition is to deceive, a mother has no hold upon such an one; for the child will soon perceive that his mother cannot follow him every where, and that he can commit with impunity many actions of deceit. But, impress the child with the truth that a Being is watching these actions, and that though done with the greatest cunning, they cannot be committed with impunity, and it is more than probable that they will never be committed at all. A temptation may be thrown in the way of such a child, but it will not be powerful enough to overcome the feeling that the action is watched. That child may eagerly pant to perform the forbidden action, or to partake of the forbidden pleasure; but he will not be able to rid himself of the feeling that it cannot be done without being observed. He will stand in a state of anxiety, and steal a glance around, in order to see the Being he feels is looking upon him, and every breeze that murmurs will be a voice to chide him, and every leaf that whistles will seem a footstep, and never will he be able to break the restraint; for wherever he goes and whatever he does, he will feel that his actions are watched by one who will punish the bad and reward the good. And in the same way might this be applied to all dispositions and feelings. How cheering is it to a timid child to be told that at no time is he left alone: but that the Being who made every thing preserves and keeps every thing, and that nothing can happen but by his permission! This is to disarm fear of its terrors, and to implant a confidence in the mind, for the child will feel that while his actions are good he is under the protection of an Almighty Parent. In the same way, in stimulating a child to the performance of a duty, the end proposed should be the favour of God. This would insure the duty being entered upon with a right spirit--not merely for the sake of show and effect, but springing from the heart and the mind--and, at the same time, it would prevent any thing of hypocrisy. If it were only the estimation of the world which was to be regarded, a child could soon understand that the applause would be gained by the mere exterior performance, be the motive what it might: but when the motive is centered in God, it is readily understood that the feeling must be genuine; otherwise, whatever the world may say, God will look upon it as unworthy and base. We believe it would be found to work the best results, if all the actions of a child were made thus to depend upon their harmony with the will of God; for it would give a sacredness to every action, make every motive a high and holy one, and harmonise the thoughts of the heart with the actions of the life. But in this mode of teaching, it is essentially necessary that a mother should herself be an example of the truth she teaches. It will be worse than useless to teach a child that God is always at hand, 'and spieth out all our ways,' if she act as though she did not believe in the existence of a Deity. In the same way will it hold good of every requirement. It will be vain to teach a child that lying is a great crime in God's sight, when a mother in her own words shows no regard to truth; and equally so of all other passions and feelings. It is idle to teach a child that pride--hatred--revenge--anger, are unholy passions, if a mother's own conduct displays either of them. How useless is it to teach that vanity should never be indulged in, when a mother delights in display! Such instruction as this is like the web of Penelope--unpicked as fast as done. The greatest reverence is due to a child; and previously to becoming a teacher, a mother should learn this hardest of all lessons--'Know thyself.' Without this, the instruction she gives her children will at best prove very imperfect. It is quite useless to teach children to reverence any thing, when a mother's conduct shows that, practically at least, she has no belief in the truths she inculcates. And a very hard requirement this is: but it is a requirement absolutely necessary, if education is meant to be any thing more than nominal. The finest lesson on the beauty of truth is enforced by a mother never herself saying what is false; for children pay great regard to consistency, and very soon detect any discrepancies between that which is taught and that which is practised. The best method of inculcating truth on the minds of children is by analogy and illustration. They cannot follow an argument, though they readily understand a comparison: and, by a judicious arrangement, every thing, either animate or inanimate, might be made to become a teacher. What lesson on industry would be so likely to be instructive as that gathered from a bee-hive? The longest dissertation on the evils of idleness and the advantages of industry would not prove half so beneficial as directing the observation to the movements of the bee--that ever-active insect, which, without the aid of reason, exercises prudence and foresight, and provides against the wants of winter. A child will readily understand such instruction as this, and will blush to be found spending precious hours in idleness. And in the same way with other duties, whether to God or mankind, the fowls of the air and the flowers of the field might be made profitable teachers, and the child would, wherever he went, be surrounded with instruction. This mode of teaching has this special recommendation--it raises up no evil passions: and a child which would display an evil temper by being reproved in words, will feel no such rancor at a lesson being inculcated in a way like this. This instruction will also be much longer remembered than one delivered in words, forasmuch as the object upon which the instruction is based would be continually presented to the eye. And, we believe, almost all duties might be inculcated in this manner. Thus, humility by the lily, patience by the spider, affection by the dove, love to parents by the stork,--all might be rendered teachers, and in a way never to be forgotten. And that this mode of teaching is the best, we have the example of Christ himself, who almost invariably enforced his instructions by an allusion to some created thing. What, for instance, was so likely to teach men dependence upon God as a reference to the 'ravens and the lilies,' which without the aid of reason had their wants cared for? And in the same way with children--what is so likely to teach them their duties, as a reference to the varied things in nature with whose uses and habits they are well acquainted? God should be the object upon which the child's thoughts are taught to dwell--for the minds even of children turn to the beautiful, and the beautiful is the Divine. All thoughts and actions should be raised to this standard; and the child would raise above the feelings of self-gratification and vanity, and the panting for applause, to the favor and love of God. Thus should religion be the great and the first thing taught; and a mother should be careful that neither in her own actions, nor in the motives she holds out to her children, should there be any thing inimical or contrary to religion. And by this course the best and happiest results may be expected to follow. The perverse and headstrong passions of the human heart are so many, that numerous instructions may seem to be useless, and a mother may have often to sigh over her child as she sees him allowing evil habits to obtain the mastery, or unholy dispositions to reign in his heart; but, as we have before said, we do not think that the instruction will be lost, but that a time will come when she will reap the fruits of her toil, care and anxiety. Such then is the duty of woman as a mother--to tend and watch over the wants of her child, to guard it in health, to nurse it in sickness, to be solicitous for it in all the changes of life, and to prevent, as much as possible, those many ills to which flesh is heir from assailing her fondly cherished offspring. It is also her province to instruct her children in those duties which will fall to their lot both as reasonable and as immortal creatures; and by so doing she will make her own life happy--leave to her children a happy heritage on earth, and a prospect of a higher one in heaven. But if a mother neglect her duty, she will reap the fruits of her own negligence in the ingratitude of her children--an ingratitude which will bring a double pain to her, from the thought that her own neglect was the cause of its growth, as an eagle with an arrow in his heart might be supposed to feel an agony above that of pain on seeing the shaft now draining its life's blood feathered from its own wing. Mrs. Child, in her excellent "Mother's Book," a volume that should be in the hands of every woman who has assumed the responsibilities of a parent, gives some valuable suggestions on the subject of governing children. I make a single extract and with it close my present rambling work. She says: "Some children, from errors in early management, get possessed with the idea that they may have every thing. They even tease for things it would be impossible to give them. A child properly managed will seldom ask twice for what you have once told him he should not have. But if you have the care of one who has acquired this habit, the best way to cure him of it is never to give him what he asks for, whether his request is proper or not; but at the same time be careful to give him such things as he likes, (provided they are proper for him,) when he does not ask for them. This will soon break him of the habit of teasing. "I have said much in praise of gentleness. I cannot say too much. Its effects are beyond calculation, both on the affections and the understanding. The victims of oppression and abuse are generally stupid, as well as selfish and hard-hearted. How can we wonder at it? They are all the time excited to evil passions, and nobody encourages what is good in them. We might as well expect flowers to grow amid the cold and storm of winter. "But gentleness, important as it is, is not all that is required in education. There should be united with it firmness--great firmness. Commands should be reasonable, and given in perfect kindness; but once given, it should be known that they must be obeyed. I heard a lady once say, 'For my part, I cannot be so very strict with my children. I love them too much to punish them every time they disobey me.' I will relate a scene which took place in her family. She had but one domestic, and at the time to which I allude, she was very busy preparing for company. Her children knew by experience that when she was in a hurry she would indulge them in any thing for the sake of having them out of the way. George began, 'Mother, I want a piece of mince-pie.' The answer was, 'It is nearly bed-time; and mince-pie will hurt you. You shall have a piece of cake, if you will sit down and be still.' The boy ate his cake; and liking the system of being hired to sit still, he soon began again, 'Mother, I want a piece of mince-pie.' The old answer was repeated. The child stood his ground, 'Mother, I want a piece of mince-pie--I _want_ a piece--I _want_ a piece,' was repeated incessantly. 'Will you leave off teasing, If I give you a piece?' 'Yes, I will--certain true,' A small piece was given, and soon devoured. With his mouth half full, he began again, 'I want another piece--I want another piece.' 'No, George; I shall not give you another mouthful. Go sit down, you naughty boy. You always act the worst when I am going to have company.' George continued his teasing; and at last said, 'If you don't give me another piece, I'll roar.' This threat not being attended to, he kept his word. Upon this, the mother seized him by the shoulder, shook him angrily, saying, 'Hold your tongue, you naughty boy!' 'I will if you will give me another piece of pie,' said he. Another small piece was given him, after he had promised that he certainly would not tease any more. As soon as he had eaten it, he, of course, began again; and with the additional threat, 'If you don't give me a piece, I will roar after the company comes, so loud that they can all hear me.' The end of all this was, that the boy had a sound whipping, was put to bed, and could not sleep all night, because the mince-pie made his stomach ache. What an accumulation of evils in this little scene! His health injured--his promises broken with impunity--his mother's promises broken--the knowledge gained that he could always vex her when she was in a hurry--and that he could gain what he would by teasing. He always acted upon the same plan afterward; for he only once in a while (when he made his mother very angry) got a whipping; but he was _always_ sure to obtain what he asked for, if he teased her long enough. His mother told him the plain truth, when she said the mince-pie would hurt him; but he did not know whether it was the truth, or whether she only said it to put him off; for he knew that she did sometimes deceive. When she gave him the pie, he had reason to suppose it was not true it would hurt him--else why should a kind mother give it to her child? Had she told him that if he asked a second time, she would put him to bed directly--and had she kept her promise, in spite of entreaties--she would have saved him a whipping, and herself a great deal of unnecessary trouble. And who can calculate all the whippings, and all the trouble, she would have spared herself and him? I do not remember ever being in her house half a day without witnessing some scene of contention with the children. "Now let me introduce you to another acquaintance. She was in precisely the same situation, having a comfortable income and one domestic; but her children were much more numerous, and she had had very limited advantages for education. Yet she managed her family better than any woman I ever saw, or ever expect to see again. I will relate a scene I witnessed there, by way of contrast to the one I have just described. Myself and several friends once entered her parlor unexpectedly, just as the family were seated at the supper-table. A little girl, about four years old, was obliged to be removed, to make room for us. Her mother assured her she should have her supper in a little while, if she was a good girl. The child cried; and the guests insisted that room should be made for her at table. 'No,' said the mother; 'I have told her she must wait; and if she cries, I shall be obliged to send her to bed. If she is a good little girl, she shall have her supper directly.' The child could not make up her mind to obey; and her mother led her out of the room, and gave orders that she should be put to bed without supper. When my friend returned, her husband said, 'Hannah, that was a hard case. The poor child lost her supper, and was agitated by the presence of strangers. I could hardly keep from taking her on my knee, and giving her some supper. Poor little thing! But I never will interfere with your management; and much as it went against my feelings, I entirely approve of what you have done.' 'It cost me a struggle,' replied his wife; 'but I know it is for the good of the child to be taught that I mean exactly what I say.' "This family was the most harmonious, affectionate, happy family I ever knew. The children were managed as easily as a flock of lambs. After a few unsuccessful attempts at disobedience, when very young, they gave it up entirely; and always cheerfully acted from the conviction that their mother knew best. This family was governed with great strictness; firmness was united with gentleness. The indulgent mother, who said she loved her children too much to punish them, was actually obliged to punish them ten times as much as the strict mother did." THE END. 
31217	----	THE WRITINGS OF HARRIET BEECHER STOWE Riverside Edition _WITH BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIONS PORTRAITS, AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS_ IN SIXTEEN VOLUMES VOLUME VIII HOUGHTON MIFFLIN & CO [Illustration: Portrait of Mrs. Stowe] HOUSEHOLD PAPERS AND STORIES BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE [Illustration: Mrs. Stowe's Hartford Home] BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY The Riverside Press, Cambridge 1896 Copyright, 1868, By TICKNOR & FIELDS. Copyright, 1864, 1892, 1896, By HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. Copyright, 1896, By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. _All rights reserved._ The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. CONTENTS PAGE INTRODUCTORY NOTE vii HOUSE AND HOME PAPERS I. The Ravages of a Carpet 1 II. Homekeeping vs. Housekeeping 16 III. What is a Home? 33 IV. The Economy of the Beautiful 54 V. Raking Up the Fire 69 VI. The Lady who does her own Work 85 VII. What can be got in America 101 VIII. Economy 112 IX. Servants 133 X. Cookery 153 XI. Our House 182 XII. Home Religion 212 THE CHIMNEY-CORNER I. What will You do with Her? or, The Woman Question 231 II. Woman's Sphere 249 III. A Family Talk on Reconstruction 274 IV. Is Woman a Worker? 300 V. The Transition 316 VI. Bodily Religion: A Sermon on Good Health 330 VII. How shall we entertain our Company? 347 VIII. How shall we be Amused? 362 IX. Dress, or Who makes the Fashions 374 X. What are the Sources of Beauty in Dress? 395 XI. The Cathedral 412 XII. The New Year 425 XIII. The Noble Army of Martyrs 438 OUR SECOND GIRL 449 A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY 473 TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER 487 The frontispiece is from a photograph of Mrs. Stowe taken in 1884. The vignette of Mrs. Stowe's later Hartford home is from a drawing by Charles Copeland. INTRODUCTORY NOTE Mrs. Stowe had early and very practical acquaintance with the art of housekeeping. It strikes one at first as a little incongruous that an author who devoted her great powers to stirring the conscience of a nation should from time to time, and at one period especially, give her mind to the ordering of family life, but a moment's consideration will show that the same woman was earnestly at the bottom of each effort. In a letter to the late Lord Denman, written in 1853, Mrs. Stowe, speaking of _Uncle Tom's Cabin_, said: "I wrote what I did because, as a woman, as a mother, I was oppressed and heartbroken with the sorrows and injustice which I saw, and because, as a Christian, I felt the dishonor to Christianity." Not under the stress of passionate emotion, yet largely from a sense of real responsibility as a woman, a mother, and a Christian, she occupied herself with those concerns of every-day life which so distinctly appeal to a woman's mind. How to order a household, how to administer that little kingdom over which a woman rules, and, above all, how to make family life stable, pure, and conservative of the highest happiness, these were the questions which she asked herself constantly, and which she tried to solve, not only incidentally in her fiction, but directly in her essays, and in that field of one tenth fiction and nine tenths didacticism, which constitutes most of the present volume. _A Scholar's Adventures in the Country_ and _Trials of a Housekeeper_ appeared in the miscellany to which she gave the name of _The Mayflower_, and reflect humorously the Cincinnati experiences which again are playfully recounted in letters published in her son's _Life_. The former, contributed in 1850 to _The National Era_, was drawn pretty closely from the experiments of Professor Stowe. It is noticeable that in this paper and in _Our Second Girl_, which was contributed to _The Atlantic Monthly_ for January, 1868, the author poses as the masculine member of the household, as if this assumption gave her some advantage in the point of view. At any rate, she adopted the same rôle when she came more deliberately to survey a wide field in a series of articles. _The House_ and _Home Papers_ were contributed first to _The Atlantic Monthly_, and afterward published in book form as the production of one Christopher Crowfield, though there was not the slightest attempt otherwise at disguising the authorship. The immediate occasion of the papers was no doubt the removal of the Stowes from Andover and their establishment in Hartford, an event which took place shortly before the papers began to appear in _The Atlantic_. The years which followed during the first Hartford residence saw also a marriage in the family and new problems of daily life constantly presenting themselves, so that a similar series appeared in the same magazine, purporting to be from the same householder, entitled _The Chimney Corner_. This series, indeed, entered rather more seriously into questions of social morality, and deepened in feeling as it proceeded. The eleventh section is a warm appreciation of the woman who figured so largely in Mrs. Stowe's early life, and the last two papers rose, as the reader will see, to the height of national memories. Mrs. Fields has preserved for us, in her _Days with Mrs. Stowe_, a striking record of the mingling of the great and the near in this writer's mind. The period of which she writes is that in which _The Chimney Corner_ series was drawing to a close:-- "In the autumn of 1864 she wrote: 'I feel I need to write in these days, to keep me from thinking of things that make me dizzy and blind, and fill my eyes with tears, so that I cannot see the paper. I mean such things as are being done where our heroes are dying as Shaw died. It is not wise that all our literature should run in a rut cut through our hearts and red with our blood. I feel the need of a little gentle household merriment and talk of common things, to indulge which I have devised the following.' "Notwithstanding her view of the need, and her skillfully devised plans to meet it, she soon sent another epistle, showing how impossible it was to stem the current of her thought:-- "'_November 29, 1864._ "'MY DEAR FRIEND,-- "'I have sent my New Year's article, the result of one of those peculiar experiences which sometimes occur to us writers. I had planned an article, gay, sprightly, wholly domestic; but as I began and sketched the pleasant home and quiet fireside, an irresistible impulse _wrote for me_ what followed,--an offering of sympathy to the suffering and agonized, whose homes have forever been darkened. Many causes united at once to force on me this vision, from which generally I shrink, but which sometimes will not be denied,--will make itself felt. "'Just before I went to New York two of my earliest and most intimate friends lost their oldest sons, captains and majors,--splendid fellows physically and morally, beautiful, brave, religious, uniting the courage of soldiers to the faith of martyrs,--and when I went to Brooklyn it seemed as if I were hearing some such thing almost every day; and Henry, in his profession as minister, has so many letters full of imploring anguish, the cry of hearts breaking that ask help of him.'"... HOUSEHOLD PAPERS AND STORIES HOUSE AND HOME PAPERS I THE RAVAGES OF A CARPET "My dear, it's so cheap!" These words were spoken by my wife, as she sat gracefully on a roll of Brussels carpet which was spread out in flowery lengths on the floor of Messrs. Ketchem & Co. "It's _so_ cheap!" Milton says that the love of fame is the last infirmity of noble minds. I think he had not rightly considered the subject. I believe that last infirmity is the love of getting things cheap! Understand me, now. I don't mean the love of getting cheap things, by which one understands showy, trashy, ill-made, spurious articles, bearing certain apparent resemblances to better things. All really sensible people are quite superior to that sort of cheapness. But those fortunate accidents, which put within the power of a man things really good and valuable for half or a third of their value, what mortal virtue and resolution can withstand? My friend Brown has a genuine Murillo, the joy of his heart and the light of his eyes, but he never fails to tell you, as its crowning merit, how he bought it in South America for just nothing,--how it hung smoky and deserted in the back of a counting-room, and was thrown in as a makeweight to bind a bargain, and, upon being cleaned turned out a genuine Murillo; and then he takes out his cigar, and calls your attention to the points in it; he adjusts the curtain to let the sunlight fall just in the right spot; he takes you to this and the other point of view; and all this time you must confess that, in your mind as well as his, the consideration that he got all this beauty for ten dollars adds lustre to the painting. Brown has paintings there for which he paid his thousands, and, being well advised, they are worth the thousands he paid; but this ewe lamb that he got for nothing always gives him a secret exaltation in his own eyes. He seems to have credited to himself personally merit to the amount of what he should have paid for the picture. Then there is Mrs. Croesus, at the party yesterday evening, expatiating to my wife on the surprising cheapness of her point-lace set. "Got for just nothing at all, my dear!" and a circle of admiring listeners echoes the sound. "Did you ever hear anything like it? I never heard of such a thing in my life;" and away sails Mrs. Croesus as if she had a collar composed of all the cardinal virtues. In fact, she is buoyed up with a secret sense of merit, so that her satin slippers scarcely touch the carpet. Even I myself am fond of showing a first edition of "Paradise Lost" for which I gave a shilling in a London bookstall, and stating that I would not take a hundred dollars for it. Even I must confess there are points on which I am mortal. But all this while my wife sits on her roll of carpet, looking into my face for approbation, and Marianne and Jenny are pouring into my ear a running fire of "How sweet! How lovely! Just like that one of Mrs. Tweedleum's!" "And she gave two dollars and seventy-five cents a yard for hers, and this is"-- My wife here put her hand to her mouth and pronounced the incredible sum in a whisper, with a species of sacred awe, common, as I have observed, to females in such interesting crises. In fact Mr. Ketchem, standing smiling and amiable by, remarked to me that really he hoped Mrs. Crowfield would not name generally what she gave for the article, for positively it was so far below the usual rate of prices that he might give offense to other customers; but this was the very last of the pattern, and they were anxious to close off the old stock, and we had always traded with them, and he had a great respect for my wife's father, who had always traded with their firm, and so, when there were any little bargains to be thrown in any one's way, why, he naturally, of course--And here Mr. Ketchem bowed gracefully over the yardstick to my wife, and I consented. Yes, I consented; but whenever I think of myself at that moment, I always am reminded, in a small way, of Adam taking the apple; and my wife, seated on that roll of carpet, has more than once suggested to my mind the classic image of Pandora opening her unlucky box. In fact, from the moment I had blandly assented to Mr. Ketchem's remarks, and said to my wife, with a gentle air of dignity, "Well, my dear, since it suits you, I think you had better take it," there came a load on my prophetic soul which not all the fluttering and chattering of my delighted girls and the more placid complacency of my wife could entirely dissipate. I presaged I know not what of coming woe, and all I presaged came to pass. In order to know just what came to pass, I must give you a view of the house and home into which this carpet was introduced. My wife and I were somewhat advanced housekeepers, and our dwelling was first furnished by her father, in the old-fashioned jog-trot days when furniture was made with a view to its lasting from generation to generation. Everything was strong and comfortable,--heavy mahogany, guiltless of the modern device of veneering, and hewed out with a square solidity which had not an idea of change. It was, so to speak, a sort of granite foundation of the household structure. Then we commenced housekeeping with the full idea that our house was a thing to be lived in, and that furniture was made to be used. That most sensible of women, Mrs. Crowfield, agreed fully with me that in our house there was to be nothing too good for ourselves,--no room shut up in holiday attire to be enjoyed by strangers for three or four days in the year, while we lived in holes and corners; no best parlor from which we were to be excluded; no silver plate to be kept in the safe in the bank, and brought home only in case of a grand festival, while our daily meals were served with dingy Britannia. "Strike a broad, plain average," I said to my wife; "have everything abundant, serviceable, and give all our friends exactly what we have ourselves, no better and no worse;" and my wife smiled approval on my sentiment. Smile? she did more than smile. My wife resembles one of those convex mirrors I have sometimes seen. Every idea I threw out, plain and simple, she reflected back upon me in a thousand little glitters and twinkles of her own; she made my crude conceptions come back to me in such perfectly dazzling performances that I hardly recognized them. My mind warms up when I think what a home that woman made of our house from the very first day she moved into it. The great, large, airy parlor, with its ample bow-window, when she had arranged it, seemed a perfect trap to catch sunbeams. There was none of that discouraging trimness and newness that often repel a man's bachelor friends after the first call, and make them feel, "Oh, well, one cannot go in at Crowfield's now, unless one is dressed; one might put them out." The first thing our parlor said to any one was, that we were not people to be put out, that we were widespread, easy-going, and jolly folk. Even if Tom Brown brought in Ponto and his shooting-bag, there was nothing in that parlor to strike terror into man and dog; for it was written on the face of things that everybody there was to do just as he or she pleased. There were my books and my writing-table spread out with all its miscellaneous confusion of papers on one side of the fireplace, and there were my wife's great, ample sofa and work-table on the other; there I wrote my articles for the "North American;" and there she turned and ripped and altered her dresses; and there lay crochet and knitting and embroidery side by side with a weekly basket of family mending, and in neighborly contiguity with the last book of the season, which my wife turned over as she took her after-dinner lounge on the sofa. And in the bow-window were canaries always singing, and a great stand of plants always fresh and blooming, and ivy which grew and clambered and twined about the pictures. Best of all, there was in our parlor that household altar, the blazing wood fire, whose wholesome, hearty crackle is the truest household inspiration. I quite agree with one celebrated American author who holds that an open fireplace is an altar of patriotism. Would our Revolutionary fathers have gone barefooted and bleeding over snows to defend air-tight stoves and cooking-ranges? I trow not. It was the memory of the great open kitchen-fire, with its back log and fore stick of cord-wood, its roaring, hilarious voice of invitation, its dancing tongues of flame, that called to them through the snows of that dreadful winter to keep up their courage, that made their hearts warm and bright with a thousand reflected memories. Our neighbors said that it was delightful to sit by our fire,--but then, for their part, they could not afford it, wood was so ruinously dear, and all that. Most of these people could not, for the simple reason that they felt compelled, in order to maintain the family dignity, to keep up a parlor with great pomp and circumstance of upholstery, where they sat only on dress occasions, and of course the wood fire was out of the question. When children began to make their appearance in our establishment, my wife, like a well-conducted housekeeper, had the best of nursery arrangements,--a room all warmed, lighted, and ventilated, and abounding in every proper resource of amusement to the rising race; but it was astonishing to see how, notwithstanding this, the centripetal attraction drew every pair of little pattering feet to our parlor. "My dear, why don't you take your blocks upstairs?" "I want to be where oo are," said with a piteous under lip, was generally a most convincing answer. Then, the small people could not be disabused of the idea that certain chief treasures of their own would be safer under papa's writing-table or mamma's sofa than in the safest closet of their domains. My writing-table was dockyard for Arthur's new ship, and stable for little Tom's pepper-and-salt-colored pony, and carriage-house for Charley's new wagon, while whole armies of paper dolls kept house in the recess behind mamma's sofa. And then, in due time, came the tribe of pets who followed the little ones and rejoiced in the blaze of the firelight. The boys had a splendid Newfoundland, which, knowing our weakness, we warned them with awful gravity was never to be a parlor dog; but somehow, what with little beggings and pleadings on the part of Arthur and Tom, and the piteous melancholy with which Rover would look through the window-panes when shut out from the blazing warmth into the dark, cold veranda, it at last came to pass that Rover gained a regular corner at the hearth, a regular status in every family convocation. And then came a little black-and-tan English terrier for the girls; and then a fleecy poodle, who established himself on the corner of my wife's sofa; and for each of these some little voice pleaded, and some little heart would be so near broken at any slight that my wife and I resigned ourselves to live in a menagerie, the more so as we were obliged to confess a lurking weakness towards these four-footed children ourselves. So we grew and flourished together,--children, dogs, birds, flowers, and all; and although my wife often, in paroxysms of housewifeliness to which the best of women are subject, would declare that we never were fit to be seen, yet I comforted her with the reflection that there were few people whose friends seemed to consider them better worth seeing, judging by the stream of visitors and loungers which was always setting towards our parlor. People seemed to find it good to be there; they said it was somehow home-like and pleasant, and that there was a kind of charm about it that made it easy to talk and easy to live; and as my girls and boys grew up, there seemed always to be some merry doing or other going on there. Arty and Tom brought home their college friends, who straightway took root there and seemed to fancy themselves a part of us. We had no reception-rooms apart, where the girls were to receive young gentlemen; all the courting and flirting that were to be done had for their arena the ample variety of surface presented by our parlor, which, with sofas and screens and lounges and recesses, and writing and work tables, disposed here and there, and the genuine _laisser aller_ of the whole mènage, seemed, on the whole, to have offered ample advantages enough; for at the time I write of, two daughters were already established in marriage, while my youngest was busy, as yet, in performing that little domestic ballet of the cat with the mouse, in the case of a most submissive youth of the neighborhood. All this time our parlor furniture, though of that granitic formation I have indicated, began to show marks of that decay to which things sublunary are liable. I cannot say that I dislike this look in a room. Take a fine, ample, hospitable apartment, where all things, freely and generously used, softly and indefinably grow old together, there is a sort of mellow tone and keeping which pleases my eye. What if the seams of the great inviting armchair, where so many friends have sat and lounged, do grow white? What, in fact, if some easy couch has an undeniable hole worn in its friendly cover? I regard with tenderness even these mortal weaknesses of these servants and witnesses of our good times and social fellowship. No vulgar touch wore them; they may be called, rather, the marks and indentations which the glittering in and out of the tide of social happiness has worn in the rocks of our strand. I would no more disturb the gradual toning-down and aging of a well-used set of furniture by smart improvements than I would have a modern dauber paint in emendations in a fine old picture. So we men reason, but women do not always think as we do. There is a virulent demon of housekeeping not wholly cast out in the best of them, and which often breaks out in unguarded moments. In fact Miss Marianne, being on the lookout for furniture wherewith to begin a new establishment, and Jenny, who had accompanied her in her peregrinations, had more than once thrown out little disparaging remarks on the time-worn appearance of our establishment, suggesting comparison with those of more modern furnished rooms. "It is positively scandalous, the way our furniture looks," I one day heard one of them declaring to her mother; "and this old rag of a carpet!" My feelings were hurt, not the less so that I knew that the large cloth which covered the middle of the floor, and which the women call a bocking, had been bought and nailed down there, after a solemn family council, as the best means of concealing the too evident darns which years of good cheer had made needful in our stanch old household friend, the three-ply carpet, made in those days when to be a three-ply was a pledge of continuance and service. Well, it was a joyous and bustling day when, after one of those domestic whirlwinds which the women are fond of denominating house-cleaning, the new Brussels carpet was at length brought in and nailed down, and its beauty praised from mouth to mouth. Our old friends called in and admired, and all seemed to be well, except that I had that light and delicate presage of changes to come which indefinitely brooded over me. The first premonitory symptom was the look of apprehensive suspicion with which the female senate regarded the genial sunbeams that had always glorified our bow-window. "This house ought to have inside blinds," said Marianne, with all the confident decision of youth; "this carpet will be ruined if that sun is allowed to come in like that." "And that dirty little canary must really be hung in the kitchen," said Jenny; "he always did make such a litter, scattering his seed chippings about; and he never takes his bath without flirting out some water. And, mamma, it appears to me it will never do to have the plants here. Plants are always either leaking through the pots upon the carpet, or scattering bits of blossoms and dead leaves, or some accident upsets or breaks a pot. It was no matter, you know, when we had the old carpet; but this we really want to have kept nice." Mamma stood her ground for the plants,--darlings of her heart for many a year,--but temporized, and showed that disposition towards compromise which is most inviting to aggression. I confess I trembled; for, of all radicals on earth, none are to be compared to females that have once in hand a course of domestic innovation and reform. The sacred fire, the divine furor, burns in their bosoms; they become perfect Pythonesses, and every chair they sit on assumes the magic properties of the tripod. Hence the dismay that lodges in the bosoms of us males at the fateful spring and autumn seasons denominated house-cleaning. Who can say whither the awful gods, the prophetic fates, may drive our fair household divinities; what sins of ours may be brought to light; what indulgences and compliances, which uninspired woman has granted in her ordinary mortal hours, may be torn from us? He who has been allowed to keep a pair of pet slippers in a concealed corner, and by the fireside indulged with a chair which he might _ad libitum_ fill with all sorts of pamphlets and miscellaneous literature, suddenly finds himself reformed out of knowledge, his pamphlets tucked away into pigeonholes and corners, and his slippers put in their place in the hall, with, perhaps, a brisk insinuation about the shocking dust and disorder that men will tolerate. The fact was, that the very first night after the advent of the new carpet I had a prophetic dream. Among our treasures of art was a little etching, by an English artist friend, the subject of which was the gambols of the household fairies in a baronial library after the household were in bed. The little people are represented in every attitude of frolic enjoyment. Some escalade the great armchair, and look down from its top as from a domestic Mont Blanc; some climb about the bellows; some scale the shaft of the shovel; while some, forming in magic ring, dance festively on the yet glowing hearth. Tiny troops promenade the writing-table. One perches himself quaintly on the top of the inkstand, and holds colloquy with another who sits cross-legged on a paper weight, while a companion looks down on them from the top of the sandbox. It was an ingenious little device, and gave me the idea, which I often expressed to my wife, that much of the peculiar feeling of security, composure, and enjoyment which seems to be the atmosphere of some rooms and houses came from the unsuspected presence of these little people, the household fairies, so that the belief in their existence became a solemn article of faith with me. Accordingly, that evening, after the installation of the carpet, when my wife and daughters had gone to bed, as I sat with my slippered feet before the last coals of the fire, I fell asleep in my chair, and, lo! my own parlor presented to my eye a scene of busy life. The little people in green were tripping to and fro, but in great confusion. Evidently something was wrong among them; for they were fussing and chattering with each other, as if preparatory to a general movement. In the region of the bow-window I observed a tribe of them standing with tiny valises and carpetbags in their hands, as though about to depart on a journey. On my writing-table another set stood around my inkstand and pen-rack, who, pointing to those on the floor, seemed to debate some question among themselves; while others of them appeared to be collecting and packing away in tiny trunks certain fairy treasures, preparatory to a general departure. When I looked at the social hearth, at my wife's sofa and work-basket, I saw similar appearances of dissatisfaction and confusion. It was evident that the household fairies were discussing the question of a general and simultaneous removal. I groaned in spirit, and, stretching out my hand, began a conciliatory address, when whisk went the whole scene from before my eyes, and I awaked to behold the form of my wife asking me if I were ill, or had had the nightmare, that I groaned so. I told her my dream, and we laughed at it together. "We must give way to the girls a little," she said. "It is natural, you know, that they should wish us to appear a little as other people do. The fact is, our parlor is somewhat dilapidated; think how many years we have lived in it without an article of new furniture." "I hate new furniture," I remarked, in the bitterness of my soul. "I hate anything new." My wife answered me discreetly, according to approved principles of diplomacy. I was right. She sympathized with me. At the same time, it was not necessary, she remarked, that we should keep a hole in our sofa-cover and armchair,--there would certainly be no harm in sending them to the upholsterer's to be new-covered; she didn't much mind, for her part, moving her plants to the south back room; and the bird would do well enough in the kitchen: I had often complained of him for singing vociferously when I was reading aloud. So our sofa went to the upholsterer's; but the upholsterer was struck with such horror at its clumsy, antiquated, unfashionable appearance that he felt bound to make representations to my wife and daughters: positively, it would be better for them to get a new one, of a tempting pattern which he showed them, than to try to do anything with that. With a stitch or so here and there it might do for a basement dining-room; but, for a parlor, he gave it as his disinterested opinion,--he must say, if the case were his own, he should get, etc., etc. In short, we had a new sofa and new chairs, and the plants and the birds were banished, and some dark-green blinds were put up to exclude the sun from the parlor, and the blessed luminary was allowed there only at rare intervals, when my wife and daughters were out shopping, and I acted out my uncivilized male instincts by pulling up every shade and vivifying the apartment as in days of old. But this was not the worst of it. The new furniture and new carpet formed an opposition party in the room. I believe in my heart that for every little household fairy that went out with the dear old things there came in a tribe of discontented brownies with the new ones. These little wretches were always twitching at the gowns of my wife and daughters, jogging their elbows, and suggesting odious comparisons between the smart new articles and what remained of the old ones. They disparaged my writing-table in the corner; they disparaged the old-fashioned lounge in the other corner, which had been the maternal throne for years; they disparaged the work-table, the work-basket, with constant suggestions of how such things as these would look in certain well-kept parlors where new-fashioned furniture of the same sort as ours existed. "We don't have any parlor," said Jenny one day. "Our parlor has always been a sort of log cabin,--library, study, nursery, greenhouse, all combined. We never have had things like other people." "Yes, and this open fire makes such a dust; and this carpet is one that shows every speck of dust; it keeps one always on the watch." "I wonder why papa never had a study to himself; I'm sure I should think he would like it better than sitting here among us all. Now there's the great south room off the dining-room; if he would only move his things there and have his open fire, we could then close up the fireplace and put lounges in the recesses, and mamma could have her things in the nursery,--and then we should have a parlor fit to be seen." I overheard all this, though I pretended not to,--the little busy chits supposing me entirely buried in the recesses of a German book over which I was poring. There are certain crises in a man's life when the female element in his household asserts itself in dominant forms that seem to threaten to overwhelm him. The fair creatures, who in most matters have depended on his judgment, evidently look upon him at these seasons as only a forlorn, incapable male creature, to be cajoled and flattered and persuaded out of his native blindness and absurdity into the fairyland of their wishes. "Of course, mamma," said the busy voices, "men can't understand such things. What can men know of housekeeping, and how things ought to look? Papa never goes into company; he don't know and don't care how the world is doing, and don't see that nobody now is living as we do." "Aha, my little mistresses, are you there?" I thought; and I mentally resolved on opposing a great force of what our politicians call backbone to this pretty domestic conspiracy. "When you get my writing-table out of this corner, my pretty dears, I'd thank you to let me know it." Thus spake I in my blindness, fool that I was. Jupiter might as soon keep awake when Juno came in best bib and tucker, and with the cestus of Venus, to get him to sleep. Poor Slender might as well hope to get the better of pretty Mistress Anne Page as one of us clumsy-footed men might endeavor to escape from the tangled labyrinth of female wiles. In short, in less than a year it was all done, without any quarrel, any noise, any violence,--done, I scarce knew when or how, but with the utmost deference to my wishes, the most amiable hopes that I would not put myself out, the most sincere protestations that, if I liked it better as it was, my goddesses would give up and acquiesce. In fact I seemed to do it of myself, constrained thereto by what the Emperor Napoleon has so happily called the logic of events,--that old, well-known logic by which the man who has once said A must say B, and he who has said B must say the whole alphabet. In a year we had a parlor with two lounges in decorous recesses, a fashionable sofa, and six chairs and a looking-glass, and a grate always shut up, and a hole in the floor which kept the parlor warm, and great, heavy curtains that kept out all the light that was not already excluded by the green shades. It was as proper and orderly a parlor as those of our most fashionable neighbors; and when our friends called, we took them stumbling into its darkened solitude, and opened a faint crack in one of the window-shades, and came down in our best clothes and talked with them there. Our old friends rebelled at this, and asked what they had done to be treated so, and complained so bitterly that gradually we let them into the secret that there was a great south room, which I had taken for my study, where we all sat; where the old carpet was down; where the sun shone in at the great window; where my wife's plants flourished, and the canary-bird sang, and my wife had her sofa in the corner, and the old brass andirons glistened, and the wood fire crackled,--in short, a room to which all the household fairies had emigrated. When they once had found that out, it was difficult to get any of them to sit in our parlor. I had purposely christened the new room my study, that I might stand on my rights as master of ceremonies there, though I opened wide arms of welcome to any who chose to come. So, then, it would often come to pass that, when we were sitting round the fire in my study of an evening, the girls would say,-- "Come, what do we always stay here for? Why don't we ever sit in the parlor?" And then there would be manifested among guests and family friends a general unwillingness to move. "Oh, hang it, girls!" would Arthur say; "the parlor is well enough, all right; let it stay as it is, and let a fellow stay where he can do as he pleases and feels at home;" and to this view of the matter would respond divers of the nice young bachelors who were Arthur's and Tom's sworn friends. In fact nobody wanted to stay in our parlor now. It was a cold, correct, accomplished fact; the household fairies had left it,--and when the fairies leave a room, nobody ever feels at home in it. No pictures, curtains, no wealth of mirrors, no elegance of lounges, can in the least make up for their absence. They are a capricious little set; there are rooms where they will not stay, and rooms where they will; but no one can ever have a good time without them. II HOMEKEEPING VERSUS HOUSEKEEPING I am a frank-hearted man, as perhaps you have by this time perceived, and you will not, therefore, be surprised to know that I read my last article on the carpet to my wife and the girls before I sent it to the "Atlantic," and we had a hearty laugh over it together. My wife and the girls, in fact, felt that they could afford to laugh, for they had carried their point, their reproach among women was taken away, they had become like other folks. Like other folks they had a parlor, an undeniable best parlor, shut up and darkened, with all proper carpets, curtains, lounges, and marble-topped tables, too good for human nature's daily food; and being sustained by this consciousness, they cheerfully went on receiving their friends in the study, and having good times in the old free-and-easy way; for did not everybody know that this room was not their best? and if the furniture was old-fashioned and a little the worse for antiquity, was it not certain that they had better, which they could use if they would? "And supposing we wanted to give a party," said Jenny, "how nicely our parlor would light up! Not that we ever do give parties, but if we should,--and for a wedding-reception, you know." I felt the force of the necessity; it was evident that the four or five hundred extra which we had expended was no more than such solemn possibilities required. "Now, papa thinks we have been foolish," said Marianne, "and he has his own way of making a good story of it; but, after all, I desire to know if people are never to get a new carpet. Must we keep the old one till it actually wears to tatters?" This is a specimen of the _reductio ad absurdum_ which our fair antagonists of the other sex are fond of employing. They strip what we say of all delicate shadings and illusory phrases, and reduce it to some bare question of fact, with which they make a home-thrust at us. "Yes, that's it; are people _never_ to get a new carpet?" echoed Jenny. "My dears," I replied, "it is a fact that to introduce anything new into an apartment hallowed by many home associations, where all things have grown old together, requires as much care and adroitness as for an architect to restore an arch or niche in a fine old ruin. The fault of our carpet was that it was in another style from everything in our room, and made everything in it look dilapidated. Its colors, material, and air belonged to another manner of life, and were a constant plea for alterations; and you see it actually drove out and expelled the whole furniture of the room, and I am not sure yet that it may not entail on us the necessity of refurnishing the whole house." "My dear!" said my wife, in a tone of remonstrance; but Jane and Marianne laughed and colored. "Confess, now," said I, looking at them; "have you not had secret designs on the hall and stair carpet?" "Now, papa, how could you know it? I only said to Marianne that to have Brussels in the parlor and that old mean-looking ingrain carpet in the hall did not seem exactly the thing; and in fact you know, mamma, Messrs. Ketchem & Co. showed us such a lovely pattern, designed to harmonize with our parlor carpet." "I know it, girls," said my wife; "but you know I said at once that such an expense was not to be thought of." "Now, girls," said I, "let me tell you a story I heard once of a very sensible old New England minister, who lived, as our country ministers generally do, rather near to the bone, but still quite contentedly. It was in the days when knee-breeches and long stockings were worn, and this good man was offered a present of a very nice pair of black silk hose. He declined, saying he 'could not afford to wear them.'" "'Not afford it?' said the friend; 'why, I _give_ them to you.' "'Exactly; but it will cost me not less than two hundred dollars to take them, and I cannot do it.' "'How is that?' "'Why, in the first place, I shall no sooner put them on than my wife will say, "My dear, you must have a new pair of knee-breeches," and I shall get them. Then my wife will say, "My dear, how shabby your coat is! You must have a new one," and I shall get a new coat. Then she will say, "Now, my dear, that hat will never do," and then I shall have a new hat; and then I shall say, "My dear, it will never do for me to be so fine and you to wear your old gown," and so my wife will get a new gown; and then the new gown will require a new shawl and a new bonnet; all of which we shall not feel the need of if I don't take this pair of silk stockings, for, as long as we don't see them, our old things seem very well suited to each other.'" The girls laughed at this story, and I then added, in my most determined manner,-- "But I must warn you, girls, that I have compromised to the utmost extent of my power, and that I intend to plant myself on the old stair carpet in determined resistance. I have no mind to be forbidden the use of the front stairs, or condemned to get up into my bedroom by a private ladder, as I should be immediately if there were a new carpet down." "Why, papa!" "Would it not be so? Can the sun shine in the parlor now for fear of fading the carpet? Can we keep a fire there for fear of making dust, or use the lounges and sofas for fear of wearing them out? If you got a new entry and stair carpet, as I said, I should have to be at the expense of another staircase to get up to our bedroom." "Oh no, papa," said Jane innocently; "there are very pretty druggets now for covering stair carpets, so that they can be used without hurting them." "Put one over the old carpet, then," said I, "and our acquaintance will never know but it is a new one." All the female senate laughed at this proposal, and said it sounded just like a man. "Well," said I, standing up resolutely for my sex, "a man's ideas on woman's matters may be worth some attention. I flatter myself that an intelligent, educated man doesn't think upon and observe with interest any particular subject for years of his life without gaining some ideas respecting it that are good for something; at all events, I have written another article for the 'Atlantic,' which I will read to you." "Well, wait one minute, papa, till we get our work," said the girls, who, to say the truth, always exhibit a flattering interest in anything their papa writes, and who have the good taste never to interrupt his readings with any conversations in an undertone on cross-stitch and floss-silks, as the manner of some is. Hence the little feminine bustle of arranging all these matters beforehand. Jane, or Jenny, as I call her in my good-natured moods, put on a fresh clear stick of hickory, of that species denominated shagbark, which is full of most charming slivers, burning with such a clear flame, and emitting such a delicious perfume in burning, that I would not change it with the millionaire who kept up his fire with cinnamon. You must know, my dear Mr. Atlantic, and you, my confidential friends of the reading public, that there is a certain magic or spiritualism which I have the knack of in regard to these mine articles, in virtue of which my wife and daughters never hear or see the little personalities respecting them which form parts of my papers. By a peculiar arrangement which I have made with the elves of the inkstand and the familiar spirits of the quill, a sort of glamour falls on their eyes and ears when I am reading, or when they read the parts personal to themselves; otherwise their sense of feminine propriety would be shocked at the free way in which they and their most internal affairs are confidentially spoken of between me and you, O loving readers. Thus, in an undertone, I tell you that my little Jenny, as she is zealously and systematically arranging the fire, and trimly whisking every untidy particle of ashes from the hearth, shows in every movement of her little hands, in the cock of her head, in the knowing, observing glance of her eye, and in all her energetic movements, that her small person is endued and made up of the very expressed essence of housewifeliness,--she is the very attar, not of roses, but of housekeeping. Care-taking and thrift and neatness are a nature to her; she is as dainty and delicate in her person as a white cat, as everlastingly busy as a bee; and all the most needful faculties of time, weight, measure, and proportion ought to be fully developed in her skull, if there is any truth in phrenology. Besides all this, she has a sort of hard-grained little vein of common sense, against which my fanciful conceptions and poetical notions are apt to hit with just a little sharp grating, if they are not well put. In fact, this kind of woman needs carefully to be idealized in the process of education, or she will stiffen and dry, as she grows old, into a veritable household Pharisee, a sort of domestic tyrant. She needs to be trained in artistic values and artistic weights and measures, to study all the arts and sciences of the beautiful, and then she is charming. Most useful, most needful, these little women: they have the centripetal force which keeps all the domestic planets from gyrating and frisking in unseemly orbits, and, properly trained, they fill a house with the beauty of order, the harmony and consistency of proportion, the melody of things moving in time and tune, without violating the graceful appearance of ease which Art requires. So I had an eye to Jenny's education in my article which I unfolded and read, and which was entitled HOMEKEEPING VERSUS HOUSEKEEPING There are many women who know how to keep a house, but there are but few that know how to keep a home. To keep a house may seem a complicated affair, but it is a thing that may be learned; it lies in the region of the material; in the region of weight, measure, color, and the positive forces of life. To keep a home lies not merely in the sphere of all these, but it takes in the intellectual, the social, the spiritual, the immortal. * * * * * Here the hickory stick broke in two, and the two brands fell controversially out and apart on the hearth, scattering the ashes and coals, and calling for Jenny and the hearth-brush. Your wood fire has this foible, that it needs something to be done to it every five minutes; but, after all, these little interruptions of our bright-faced genius are like the piquant sallies of a clever friend,--they do not strike us as unreasonable. When Jenny had laid down her brush she said,-- "Seems to me, papa, you are beginning to soar into metaphysics." "Everything in creation is metaphysical in its abstract terms," said I, with a look calculated to reduce her to a respectful condition. "Everything has a subjective and an objective mode of presentation." "There papa goes with subjective and objective!" said Marianne. "For my part, I never can remember which is which." "I remember," said Jenny; "it's what our old nurse used to call internal and _out_-ternal,--I always remember by that." "Come, my dears," said my wife, "let your father read;" so I went on as follows:-- * * * * * I remember in my bachelor days going with my boon companion, Bill Carberry, to look at the house to which he was in a few weeks to introduce his bride. Bill was a gallant, free-hearted, open-handed fellow, the life of our whole set, and we felt that natural aversion to losing him that bachelor friends would. How could we tell under what strange aspects he might look forth upon us, when once he had passed into "that undiscovered country" of matrimony? But Bill laughed to scorn our apprehensions. "I'll tell you what, Chris," he said, as he sprang cheerily up the steps and unlocked the door of his future dwelling, "do you know what I chose this house for? Because it's a social-looking house. Look there, now," he said, as he ushered me into a pair of parlors,--"look at those long south windows, the sun lies there nearly all day long; see what a capital corner there is for a lounging-chair; fancy us, Chris, with our books or our paper, spread out loose and easy, and Sophie gliding in and out like a sunbeam. I'm getting poetical, you see. Then, did you ever see a better, wider, airier dining-room? What capital suppers and things we'll have there! the nicest times,--everything free and easy, you know,--just what I've always wanted a house for. I tell you, Chris, you and Tom Innis shall have latch-keys just like mine, and there is a capital chamber there at the head of the stairs, so that you can be free to come and go. And here now's the library,--fancy this full of books and engravings from the ceiling to the floor; here you shall come just as you please and ask no questions,--all the same as if it were your own, you know." "And Sophie, what will she say to all this?" "Why, you know Sophie is a prime friend to both of you, and a capital girl to keep things going. Oh, Sophie'll make a house of this, you may depend!" A day or two after, Bill dragged me stumbling over boxes and through straw and wrappings to show me the glories of the parlor furniture, with which he seemed pleased as a child with a new toy. "Look here," he said; "see these chairs, garnet-colored satin, with a pattern on each; well, the sofa's just like them, and the curtains to match, and the carpets made for the floor with centrepieces and borders. I never saw anything more magnificent in my life. Sophie's governor furnishes the house, and everything is to be A No. 1, and all that, you see. Messrs. Curtain & Collamore are coming to make the rooms up, and her mother is busy as a bee getting us in order." "Why, Bill," said I, "you are going to be lodged like a prince. I hope you'll be able to keep it up; but law business comes in rather slowly at first, old fellow." "Well, you know it isn't the way I should furnish, if my capital was the one to cash the bills; but then, you see, Sophie's people do it, and let them,--a girl doesn't want to come down out of the style she has always lived in." I said nothing, but had an oppressive presentiment that social freedom would expire in that house, crushed under a weight of upholstery. But there came in due time the wedding and the wedding-reception, and we all went to see Bill in his new house, splendidly lighted up and complete from top to toe, and everybody said what a lucky fellow he was; but that was about the end of it, so far as our visiting was concerned. The running in, and dropping in, and keeping latch-keys, and making informal calls, that had been forespoken, seemed about as likely as if Bill had lodged in the Tuileries. Sophie, who had always been one of your snapping, sparkling, busy sort of girls, began at once to develop her womanhood and show her principles, and was as different from her former self as your careworn, mousing old cat is from your rollicking, frisky kitten. Not but that Sophie was a good girl. She had a capital heart, a good, true womanly one, and was loving and obliging; but still she was one of the desperately painstaking, conscientious sort of women whose very blood, as they grow older, is devoured with anxiety, and she came of a race of women in whom housekeeping was more than an art or a science,--it was, so to speak, a religion. Sophie's mother, aunts, and grandmothers, for nameless generations back, were known and celebrated housekeepers. They might have been genuine descendants of the inhabitants of that Hollandic town of Broeck, celebrated by Washington Irving, where the cows' tails are kept tied up with unsullied blue ribbons, and the ends of the fire-wood are painted white. He relates how a celebrated preacher, visiting this town, found it impossible to draw these housewives from their earthly views and employments, until he took to preaching on the neatness of the celestial city, the unsullied crystal of its walls and the polish of its golden pavement, when the faces of all the housewives were set Zionward at once. Now this solemn and earnest view of housekeeping is onerous enough when a poor girl first enters on the care of a moderately furnished house, where the articles are not too expensive to be reasonably renewed as time and use wear them; but it is infinitely worse when a cataract of splendid furniture is heaped upon her care,--when splendid crystals cut into her conscience, and mirrors reflect her duties, and moth and rust stand ever ready to devour and sully in every room and passageway. Sophie was solemnly warned and instructed by all the mothers and aunts,--she was warned of moths, warned of cockroaches, warned of flies, warned of dust; all the articles of furniture had their covers, made of cold Holland linen, in which they looked like bodies laid out,--even the curtain tassels had each its little shroud,--and bundles of receipts, and of rites and ceremonies necessary for the preservation and purification and care of all these articles, were stuffed into the poor girl's head, before guiltless of cares as the feathers that floated above it. Poor Bill found very soon that his house and furniture were to be kept at such an ideal point of perfection that he needed another house to live in,--for, poor fellow, he found the difference between having a house and a home. It was only a year or two after that my wife and I started our ménage on very different principles, and Bill would often drop in upon us, wistfully lingering in the cosy armchair between my writing-table and my wife's sofa, and saying with a sigh how confoundedly pleasant things looked there,--so pleasant to have a bright, open fire, and geraniums and roses and birds, and all that sort of thing, and to dare to stretch out one's legs and move without thinking what one was going to hit. "Sophie is a good girl!" he would say, "and wants to have everything right, but you see they won't let her. They've loaded her with so many things that have to be kept in lavender that the poor girl is actually getting thin and losing her health; and then, you see, there's Aunt Zeruah, she mounts guard at our house, and keeps up such strict police regulations that a fellow can't do a thing. The parlors are splendid, but so lonesome and dismal!--not a ray of sunshine, in fact not a ray of light, except when a visitor is calling, and then they open a crack. They're afraid of flies, and yet, dear knows, they keep every looking-glass and picture-frame muffled to its throat from March to December. I'd like, for curiosity, to see what a fly would do in our parlors!" "Well," said I, "can't you have some little family sitting-room where you can make yourselves cosy?" "Not a bit of it. Sophie and Aunt Zeruah have fixed their throne up in our bedroom, and there they sit all day long, except at calling-hours, and then Sophie dresses herself and comes down. Aunt Zeruah insists upon it that the way is to put the whole house in order, and shut all the blinds, and sit in your bedroom, and then, she says, nothing gets out of place; and she tells poor Sophie the most hocus-pocus stories about her grandmothers and aunts, who always kept everything in their houses so that they could go and lay their hands on it in the darkest night. I'll bet they could in our house. From end to end it is kept looking as if we had shut it up and gone to Europe,--not a book, not a paper, not a glove, or any trace of a human being in sight; the piano shut tight, the bookcases shut and locked, the engravings locked up, all the drawers and closets locked. Why, if I want to take a fellow into the library, in the first place it smells like a vault, and I have to unbarricade windows, and unlock and rummage for half an hour before I can get at anything; and I know Aunt Zeruah is standing tiptoe at the door, ready to whip everything back and lock up again. A fellow can't be social, or take any comfort in showing his books and pictures that way. Then there's our great, light dining-room, with its sunny south windows,--Aunt Zeruah got us out of that early in April, because she said the flies would speck the frescoes and get into the china-closet, and we have been eating in a little dingy den, with a window looking out on a back alley, ever since; and Aunt Zeruah says that now the dining-room is always in perfect order, and that it is such a care off Sophie's mind that I ought to be willing to eat down cellar to the end of the chapter. Now, you see, Chris, my position is a delicate one, because Sophie's folks all agree that, if there is anything in creation that is ignorant and dreadful and mustn't be allowed his way anywhere, it's 'a man.' Why, you'd think, to hear Aunt Zeruah talk, that we were all like bulls in a china-shop, ready to toss and tear and rend, if we are not kept down cellar and chained; and she worries Sophie, and Sophie's mother comes in and worries, and if I try to get anything done differently Sophie cries, and says she don't know what to do, and so I give it up. Now, if I want to ask a few of our set in sociably to dinner, I can't have them where we eat down cellar,--oh, that would never do! Aunt Zeruah and Sophie's mother and the whole family would think the family honor was forever ruined and undone. We mustn't ask them unless we open the dining-room, and have out all the best china, and get the silver home from the bank; and if we do that, Aunt Zeruah doesn't sleep for a week beforehand, getting ready for it, and for a week after, getting things put away; and then she tells me that, in Sophie's delicate state, it really is abominable for me to increase her cares, and so I invite fellows to dine with me at Delmonico's, and then Sophie cries, and Sophie's mother says it doesn't look respectable for a family man to be dining at public places; but, hang it, a fellow wants a home somewhere!" My wife soothed the chafed spirit, and spake comfortably unto him, and told him that he knew there was the old lounging-chair always ready for him at our fireside. "And you know," she said, "our things are all so plain that we are never tempted to mount any guard over them; our carpets are nothing, and therefore we let the sun fade them, and live on the sunshine and the flowers." "That's it," said Bill bitterly. "Carpets fading,--that's Aunt Zeruah's monomania. These women think that the great object of houses is to keep out sunshine. What a fool I was when I gloated over the prospect of our sunny south windows! Why, man, there are three distinct sets of fortifications against the sunshine in those windows: first, outside blinds; then solid, folding, inside shutters; and, lastly, heavy, thick, lined damask curtains, which loop quite down to the floor. What's the use of my pictures, I desire to know? They are hung in that room, and it's a regular campaign to get light enough to see what they are." "But, at all events, you can light them up with gas in the evening." "In the evening! Why, do you know my wife never wants to sit there in the evening? She says she has so much sewing to do that she and Aunt Zeruah must sit up in the bedroom, because it wouldn't do to bring work into the parlor. Didn't you know that? Don't you know there mustn't be such a thing as a bit of real work ever seen in a parlor? What if some threads should drop on the carpet? Aunt Zeruah would have to open all the fortifications next day, and search Jerusalem with candles to find them. No; in the evening the gas is lighted at half-cock, you know; and if I turn it up, and bring in my newspapers and spread about me, and pull down some books to read, I can feel the nervousness through the chamber floor. Aunt Zeruah looks in at eight, and at a quarter past, and at half past, and at nine, and at ten, to see if I am done, so that she may fold up the papers and put a book on them, and lock up the books in their cases. Nobody ever comes in to spend an evening. They used to try it when we were first married, but I believe the uninhabited appearance of our parlors discouraged them. Everybody has stopped coming now, and Aunt Zeruah says 'it is such a comfort, for now the rooms are always in order. How poor Mrs. Crowfield lives, with her house such a thoroughfare, she is sure she can't see. Sophie never would have strength for it; but then, to be sure, some folks ain't as particular as others. Sophie was brought up in a family of very particular housekeepers.'" My wife smiled, with that calm, easy, amused smile that has brightened up her sofa for so many years. Bill added bitterly,-- "Of course, I couldn't say that I wished the whole set and system of housekeeping women at the--what-'s-his-name?--because Sophie would have cried for a week, and been utterly forlorn and disconsolate. I know it's not the poor girl's fault; I try sometimes to reason with her, but you can't reason with the whole of your wife's family, to the third and fourth generation backwards; but I'm sure it's hurting her health,--wearing her out. Why, you know Sophie used to be the life of our set; and now she really seems eaten up with care from morning to night, there are so many things in the house that something dreadful is happening to all the while, and the servants we get are so clumsy. Why, when I sit with Sophie and Aunt Zeruah, it's nothing but a constant string of complaints about the girls in the kitchen. We keep changing our servants all the time, and they break and destroy so that now we are turned out of the use of all our things. We not only eat in the basement, but all our pretty table-things are put away, and we have all the cracked plates and cracked tumblers and cracked teacups and old buck-handled knives that can be raised out of chaos. I could use these things and be merry if I didn't know we had better ones; and I can't help wondering whether there isn't some way that our table could be set to look like a gentleman's table; but Aunt Zeruah says that 'it would cost thousands, and what difference does it make as long as nobody sees it but us?' You see, there is no medium in her mind between china and crystal and cracked earthenware. Well, I'm wondering how all these laws of the Medes and Persians are going to work when the children come along. I'm in hopes the children will soften off the old folks, and make the house more habitable." Well, children did come, a good many of them, in time. There was Tom, a broad-shouldered, chubby-cheeked, active, hilarious son of mischief, born in the very image of his father; and there was Charlie, and Jim, and Louisa, and Sophie the second, and Frank,--and a better, brighter, more joy-giving household, as far as temperament and nature were concerned, never existed. But their whole childhood was a long battle,--children versus furniture, and furniture always carried the day. The first step of the housekeeping powers was to choose the least agreeable and least available room in the house for the children's nursery, and to fit it up with all the old, cracked, rickety furniture a neighboring auction-shop could afford, and then to keep them in it. Now everybody knows that to bring up children to be upright, true, generous, and religious needs so much discipline, so much restraint and correction, and so many rules and regulations, that it is all that the parents can carry out, and all the children can bear. There is only a certain amount of the vital force for parents or children to use in this business of education, and one must choose what it shall be used for. The Aunt Zeruah faction chose to use it for keeping the house and furniture, and the children's education proceeded accordingly. The rules of right and wrong of which they heard most frequently were all of this sort: Naughty children were those who went up the front stairs, or sat on the best sofa, or fingered any of the books in the library, or got out one of the best teacups, or drank out of the cut-glass goblets. Why did they ever want to do it? If there ever is a forbidden fruit in an Eden, will not our young Adams and Eves risk soul and body to find out how it tastes? Little Tom, the oldest boy, had the courage and enterprise and perseverance of a Captain Parry or Dr. Kane, and he used them all in voyages of discovery to forbidden grounds. He stole Aunt Zeruah's keys, unlocked her cupboards and closets, saw, handled, and tasted everything for himself, and gloried in his sins. "Don't you know, Tom," said the nurse to him once, "if you are so noisy and rude, you'll disturb your dear mamma? She's sick, and she may die, if you're not careful." "Will she die?" says Tom gravely. "Why, she may." "Then," said Tom, turning on his heel,--"then I'll go up the front stairs." As soon as ever the little rebel was old enough, he was sent away to boarding-school, and then there was never found a time when it was convenient to have him come home again. He could not come in the spring, for then they were house-cleaning, nor in the autumn, because then they were house-cleaning; and so he spent his vacations at school, unless, by good luck, a companion who was so fortunate as to have a home invited him there. His associations, associates, habits, principles, were as little known to his mother as if she had sent him to China. Aunt Zeruah used to congratulate herself on the rest there was at home, now he was gone, and say she was only living in hopes of the time when Charlie and Jim would be big enough to send away, too; and meanwhile Charlie and Jim, turned out of the charmed circle which should hold growing boys to the father's and mother's side, detesting the dingy, lonely playroom, used to run the city streets, and hang round the railroad depots or docks. Parents may depend upon it that, if they do not make an attractive resort for their boys, Satan will. There are places enough, kept warm and light and bright and merry, where boys can go whose mothers' parlors are too fine for them to sit in. There are enough to be found to clap them on the back, and tell them stories that their mothers must not hear, and laugh when they compass with their little piping voices the dreadful litanies of sin and shame. In middle life, our poor Sophie, who as a girl was so gay and frolicsome, so full of spirits, had dried and sharpened into a hard-visaged, angular woman,--careful and troubled about many things, and forgetful that one thing is needful. One of the boys had run away to sea; I believe he has never been heard of. As to Tom, the eldest, he ran a career wild and hard enough for a time, first at school and then in college, and there came a time when he came home, in the full might of six feet two, and almost broke his mother's heart with his assertions of his home rights and privileges. Mothers who throw away the key of their children's hearts and childhood sometimes have a sad retribution. As the children never were considered when they were little and helpless, so they do not consider when they are strong and powerful. Tom spread wide desolation among the household gods, lounging on the sofas, spitting tobacco juice on the carpets, scattering books and engravings hither and thither, and throwing all the family traditions into wild disorder, as he would never have done had not all his childish remembrances of them been embittered by the association of restraint and privation. He actually seemed to hate any appearance of luxury or taste or order,--he was a perfect Philistine. As for my friend Bill, from being the pleasantest and most genial of fellows, he became a morose, misanthropic man. Dr. Franklin has a significant proverb,--"Silks and satins put out the kitchen fire." Silks and satins--meaning by them the luxuries of housekeeping--often put out not only the parlor fire, but that more sacred flame, the fire of domestic love. It is the greatest possible misery to a man and to his children to be homeless; and many a man has a splendid house, but no home. "Papa," said Jenny, "you ought to write and tell what are your ideas of keeping a home." "Girls, you have only to think how your mother has brought you up." * * * * * Nevertheless, I think, being so fortunate a husband, I might reduce my wife's system to an analysis, and my next paper shall be, What is a Home, and How to Keep it. III WHAT IS A HOME It is among the sibylline secrets which lie mysteriously between you and me, O reader, that these papers, besides their public aspect, have a private one proper to the bosom of mine own particular family. They are not merely an _ex post facto_ protest in regard to that carpet and parlor of celebrated memory, but they are forth-looking towards other homes that may yet arise near us. For, among my other confidences, you may recollect I stated to you that our Marianne was busy in those interesting cares and details which relate to the preparing and ordering of another dwelling. Now, when any such matter is going on in a family, I have observed that every feminine instinct is in a state of fluttering vitality,--every woman, old or young, is alive with womanliness to the tips of her fingers; and it becomes us of the other sex, however consciously respected, to walk softly and put forth our sentiments discreetly, and with due reverence for the mysterious powers that reign in the feminine breast. I had been too well advised to offer one word of direct counsel on a subject where there were such charming voices, so able to convict me of absurdity at every turn. I had merely so arranged my affairs as to put into the hands of my bankers, subject to my wife's order, the very modest marriage portion which I could place at my girl's disposal; and Marianne and Jenny, unused to the handling of money, were incessant in their discussions with ever patient mamma as to what was to be done with it. I say Marianne and Jenny, for, though the case undoubtedly is Marianne's, yet, like everything else in our domestic proceedings, it seems to fall, somehow or other, into Jenny's hands, through the intensity and liveliness of her domesticity of nature. Little Jenny is so bright and wide awake, and with so many active plans and fancies touching anything in the housekeeping world, that, though the youngest sister and second party in this affair, a stranger, hearkening to the daily discussions, might listen a half-hour at a time without finding out that it was not Jenny's future establishment that was in question. Marianne is a soft, thoughtful, quiet girl, not given to many words; and though, when you come fairly at it, you will find that, like most quiet girls, she has a will five times as inflexible as one who talks more, yet in all family counsels it is Jenny and mamma that do the discussion, and her own little well-considered "Yes" or "No" that finally settles each case. I must add to this family tableau the portrait of the excellent Bob Stephens, who figured as future proprietor and householder in these consultations. So far as the question of financial possibilities is concerned, it is important to remark that Bob belongs to the class of young Edmunds celebrated by the poet:-- "Wisdom and worth were all he had." He is, in fact, an excellent-hearted and clever fellow, with a world of agreeable talents, a good tenor in a parlor duet, a good actor at a charade, a lively, off-hand conversationist, well up in all the current literature of the day, and what is more, in my eyes, a well-read lawyer, just admitted to the bar, and with as fair business prospects as usually fall to the lot of young aspirants in that profession. Of course, he and my girl are duly and truly in love, in all the proper moods and tenses; but as to this work they have in hand of being householders, managing fuel, rent, provision, taxes, gas and water rates, they seem to my older eyes about as sagacious as a pair of this year's robins. Nevertheless, as the robins of each year do somehow learn to build nests as well as their ancestors, there is reason to hope as much for each new pair of human creatures. But it is one of the fatalities of our ill-jointed life that houses are usually furnished for future homes by young people in just this state of blissful ignorance of what they are really wanted for, or what is likely to be done with the things in them. Now, to people of large incomes, with ready wealth for the rectification of mistakes, it doesn't much matter how the ménage is arranged at first; they will, if they have good sense, soon rid themselves of the little infelicities and absurdities of their first arrangements, and bring their establishment to meet their more instructed tastes. But to that greater class who have only a modest investment for this first start in domestic life, mistakes are far more serious. I have known people go on for years groaning under the weight of domestic possessions they did not want, and pining in vain for others which they did, simply from the fact that all their first purchases were made in this time of blissful ignorance. I had been a quiet auditor to many animated discussions among the young people as to what they wanted and were to get, in which the subject of prudence and economy was discussed, with quotations of advice thereon given in serious good faith by various friends and relations who lived easily on incomes four or five times larger than our own. Who can show the ways of elegant economy more perfectly than people thus at ease in their possessions? From what serene heights do they instruct the inexperienced beginners! Ten thousand a year gives one leisure for reflection, and elegant leisure enables one to view household economies dispassionately; hence the unction with which these gifted daughters of upper air delight to exhort young neophytes. "Depend upon it, my dear," Aunt Sophia Easygo had said, "it's always the best economy to get the best things. They cost more in the beginning, but see how they last! These velvet carpets on my floor have been in constant wear for ten years, and look how they wear! I never have an ingrain carpet in my house,--not even on the chambers. Velvet and Brussels cost more to begin with, but then they last. Then I cannot recommend the fashion that is creeping in of having plate instead of solid silver. Plate wears off, and has to be renewed, which comes to about the same thing in the end as if you bought all solid at first. If I were beginning as Marianne is, I should just set aside a thousand dollars for my silver, and be content with a few plain articles. She should buy all her furniture at Messrs. David & Saul's. People call them dear, but their work will prove cheapest in the end, and there is an air and style about their things that can be told anywhere. Of course, you won't go to any extravagant lengths,--simplicity is a grace of itself." The waters of the family council were troubled when Jenny, flaming with enthusiasm, brought home the report of this conversation. When my wife proceeded, with her well-trained business knowledge, to compare the prices of the simplest elegancies recommended by Aunt Easygo with the sum total to be drawn on, faces lengthened perceptibly. "How _are_ people to go to housekeeping," said Jenny, "if everything costs so much?" My wife quietly remarked that we had had great comfort in our own home,--had entertained unnumbered friends, and had only ingrain carpets on our chambers and a three-ply on our parlor, and she doubted if any guest had ever thought of it,--if the rooms had been a shade less pleasant; and as to durability, Aunt Easygo had renewed her carpets oftener than we. Such as ours were, they had worn longer than hers. "But, mamma, you know everything has gone on since your day. Everybody must at least approach a certain style nowadays. One can't furnish so far behind other people." My wife answered in her quiet way, setting forth her doctrine of a plain average to go through the whole establishment, placing parlors, chambers, kitchen, pantries, and the unseen depths of linen-closets in harmonious relations of just proportion, and showed by calm estimates how far the sum given could go towards this result. _There_ the limits were inexorable. There is nothing so damping to the ardor of youthful economies as the hard, positive logic of figures. It is so delightful to think in some airy way that the things we like best are the cheapest, and that a sort of rigorous duty compels us to get them at any sacrifice. There is no remedy for this illusion but to show by the multiplication and addition tables what things are and are not possible. My wife's figures met Aunt Easygo's assertions, and there was a lull among the high contracting parties for a season; nevertheless, I could see Jenny was secretly uneasy. I began to hear of journeys made to far places, here and there, where expensive articles of luxury were selling at reduced prices. Now a gilded mirror was discussed, and now a velvet carpet which chance had brought down temptingly near the sphere of financial possibility. I thought of our parlor, and prayed the good fairies to avert the advent of ill-assorted articles. "Pray keep common sense uppermost in the girls' heads, if you can," said I to Mrs. Crowfield, "and don't let the poor little puss spend her money for what she won't care a button about by and by." "I shall try," she said; "but you know Marianne is inexperienced, and Jenny is so ardent and active, and so confident, too. Then they both, I think, have the impression that we are a little behind the age. To say the truth, my dear, I think your papers afford a good opportunity of dropping a thought now and then in their minds. Jenny was asking last night when you were going to write your next paper. The girl has a bright, active mind, and thinks of what she hears." So flattered, by the best of flatterers, I sat down to write on my theme; and that evening, at firelight time, I read to my little senate as follows:-- WHAT IS A HOME, AND HOW TO KEEP IT I have shown that a dwelling, rented or owned by a man, in which his own wife keeps house, is not always, or of course, a home. What is it, then, that makes a home? All men and women have the indefinite knowledge of what they want and long for when that word is spoken. "Home!" sighs the disconsolate bachelor, tired of boarding-house fare and buttonless shirts. "Home!" says the wanderer in foreign lands, and thinks of mother's love, of wife and sister and child. Nay, the word has in it a higher meaning hallowed by religion; and when the Christian would express the highest of his hopes for a better life, he speaks of his _home_ beyond the grave. The word "home" has in it the elements of love, rest, permanency, and liberty; but, besides these, it has in it the idea of an education by which all that is purest within us is developed into nobler forms, fit for a higher life. The little child by the home-fireside was taken on the Master's knee when he would explain to his disciples the mysteries of the kingdom. Of so great dignity and worth is this holy and sacred thing, that the power to create a HOME ought to be ranked above all creative faculties. The sculptor who brings out the breathing statue from cold marble, the painter who warms the canvas into a deathless glow of beauty, the architect who built cathedrals and hung the world-like dome of St. Peter's in midair, is not to be compared, in sanctity and worthiness, to the humblest artist who, out of the poor materials afforded by this shifting, changing, selfish world, creates the secure Eden of a home. A true home should be called the noblest work of art possible to human creatures, inasmuch as it is the very image chosen to represent the last and highest rest of the soul, the consummation of man's blessedness. Not without reason does the oldest Christian church require of those entering on marriage the most solemn review of all the past life, the confession and repentance of every sin of thought, word, and deed, and the reception of the holy sacrament; for thus the man and woman who approach the august duty of creating a home are reminded of the sanctity and beauty of what they undertake. In this art of homemaking I have set down in my mind certain first principles, like the axioms of Euclid, and the first is,-- _No home is possible without love._ All business marriages and marriages of convenience, all mere culinary marriages and marriages of mere animal passion, make the creation of a true home impossible in the outset. Love is the jeweled foundation of this New Jerusalem descending from God out of heaven, and takes as many bright forms as the amethyst, topaz, and sapphire of that mysterious vision. In this range of creative art all things are possible to him that loveth, but without love nothing is possible. We hear of most convenient marriages in foreign lands, which may better be described as commercial partnerships. The money on each side is counted; there is enough between the parties to carry on the firm, each having the appropriate sum allotted to each. No love is pretended, but there is great politeness. All is so legally and thoroughly arranged that there seems to be nothing left for future quarrels to fasten on. Monsieur and Madame have each their apartments, their carriages, their servants, their income, their friends, their pursuits,--understand the solemn vows of marriage to mean simply that they are to treat each other with urbanity in those few situations where the path of life must necessarily bring them together. We are sorry that such an idea of marriage should be gaining foothold in America. It has its root in an ignoble view of life,--an utter and pagan darkness as to all that man and woman are called to do in that highest relation where they act as one. It is a mean and low contrivance on both sides, by which all the grand work of home-building, all the noble pains and heroic toils of home education--that education where the parents learn more than they teach--shall be (let us use the expressive Yankee idiom) _shirked_. It is a curious fact that, in those countries where this system of marriages is the general rule, there is no word corresponding to our English word "home." In many polite languages of Europe it would be impossible neatly to translate the sentiment with which we began this essay, that a man's house is not always his home. Let any one try to render the song, "Sweet Home," into French, and one finds how Anglo-Saxon is the very genius of the word. The structure of life, in all its relations, in countries where marriages are matter of arrangement and not of love, excludes the idea of home. How does life run in such countries? The girl is recalled from her convent or boarding-school, and told that her father has found a husband for her. No objection on her part is contemplated or provided for; none generally occurs, for the child is only too happy to obtain the fine clothes and the liberty which she has been taught come only with marriage. Be the man handsome or homely, interesting or stupid, still he brings these. How intolerable such a marriage! we say, with the close intimacies of Anglo-Saxon life in our minds. They are not intolerable, because they are provided for by arrangements which make it possible for each to go his or her several way, seeing very little of the other. The son or daughter, which in due time makes its appearance in this ménage, is sent out to nurse in infancy, sent to boarding-school in youth, and in maturity portioned and married, to repeat the same process for another generation. Meanwhile father and mother keep a quiet establishment and pursue their several pleasures. Such is the system. Houses built for this kind of life become mere sets of reception-rooms, such as are the greater proportion of apartments to let in Paris, where a hearty English or American family, with their children about them, could scarcely find room to establish themselves. Individual character, it is true, does something to modify this programme. There are charming homes in France and Italy, where warm and noble natures, thrown together perhaps by accident, or mated by wise paternal choice, infuse warmth into the coldness of the system under which they live. There are in all states of society some of such domesticity of nature that they will create a home around themselves under any circumstances, however barren. Besides, so kindly is human nature, that Love, uninvited before marriage, often becomes a guest after, and with Love always comes a home. My next axiom is,-- _There can be no true home without liberty._ The very idea of home is of a retreat where we shall be free to act out personal and individual tastes and peculiarities, as we cannot do before the wide world. We are to have our meals at what hour we will, served in what style suits us. Our hours of going and coming are to be as we please. Our favorite haunts are to be here or there; our pictures and books so disposed as seems to us good; and our whole arrangements the expression, so far as our means can compass it, of our own personal ideas of what is pleasant and desirable in life. This element of liberty, if we think of it, is the chief charm of home. "Here I can do as I please," is the thought with which the tempest-tossed earth-pilgrim blesses himself or herself, turning inward from the crowded ways of the world. This thought blesses the man of business, as he turns from his day's care and crosses the sacred threshold. It is as restful to him as the slippers and gown and easy-chair by the fireside. Everybody understands him here. Everybody is well content that he should take his ease in his own way. Such is the case in the ideal home. That such is not always the case in the real home comes often from the mistakes in the house-furnishing. Much house-furnishing is too fine for liberty. In America there is no such thing as rank and station which impose a sort of prescriptive style on people of certain income. The consequence is that all sorts of furniture and belongings, which in the Old World have a recognized relation to certain possibilities of income, and which require certain other accessories to make them in good keeping, are thrown in the way of all sorts of people. Young people who cannot expect by any reasonable possibility to keep more than two or three servants, if they happen to have the means in the outset furnish a house with just such articles as in England would suit an establishment of sixteen. We have seen houses in England having two or three housemaids, and tables served by a butler and two waiters, where the furniture, carpets, china, crystal, and silver were in one and the same style with some establishments in America where the family was hard pressed to keep three Irish servants. This want of servants is the one thing that must modify everything in American life; it is, and will long continue to be, a leading feature in the life of a country so rich in openings for man and woman that domestic service can be only the stepping-stone to something higher. Nevertheless we Americans are great travelers; we are sensitive, appreciative, fond of novelty, apt to receive and incorporate into our own life what seems fair and graceful in that of other people. Our women's wardrobes are made elaborate with the thousand elegancies of French toilet,--our houses filled with a thousand knick-knacks of which our plain ancestors never dreamed. Cleopatra did not set sail on the Nile in more state and beauty than that in which our young American bride is often ushered into her new home,--her wardrobe all gossamer lace and quaint frill and crimp and embroidery, her house a museum of elegant and costly gewgaws, and, amid the whole collection of elegancies and fragilities, she, perhaps, the frailest. Then comes the tug of war. The young wife becomes a mother, and while she is retired to her chamber, blundering Biddy rusts the elegant knives, or takes off the ivory handles by soaking in hot water; the silver is washed in greasy soapsuds, and refreshed now and then with a thump, which cocks the nose of the teapot awry, or makes the handle assume an air of drunken defiance. The fragile china is chipped here and there around its edges with those minute gaps so vexatious to a woman's soul; the handles fly hither and thither in the wild confusion of Biddy's washing-day hurry, when cook wants her to help hang out the clothes. Meanwhile Bridget sweeps the parlor with a hard broom, and shakes out showers of ashes from the grate, forgetting to cover the damask lounges, and they directly look as rusty and time-worn as if they had come from an auction-store; and all together unite in making such havoc of the delicate ruffles and laces of the bridal outfit and baby _layette_ that, when the poor young wife comes out of her chamber after her nurse has left her, and, weakened and embarrassed with the demands of the newcomer, begins to look once more into the affairs of her little world, she is ready to sink with vexation and discouragement. Poor little princess! Her clothes are made as princesses wear them, her baby's clothes like a young duke's, her house furnished like a lord's, and only Bridget and Biddy and Polly to do the work of cook, scullery-maid, butler, footman, laundress, nursery-maid, housemaid, and lady's maid. Such is the array that in the Old Country would be deemed necessary to take care of an establishment got up like hers. Everything in it is too fine,--not too fine to be pretty, not in bad taste in itself, but too fine for the situation, too fine for comfort or liberty. What ensues in a house so furnished? Too often, ceaseless fretting of the nerves, in the wife's despairing, conscientious efforts to keep things as they should be. There is no freedom in a house where things are too expensive and choice to be freely handled and easily replaced. Life becomes a series of petty embarrassments and restrictions, something is always going wrong, and the man finds his fireside oppressive,--the various articles of his parlor and table seem like so many temper-traps and spring-guns, menacing explosion and disaster. There may be, indeed, the most perfect home-feeling, the utmost cosiness and restfulness, in apartments crusted with gilding, carpeted with velvet, and upholstered with satin. I have seen such, where the home-like look and air of free use was as genuine as in a Western log cabin; but this was in a range of princely income that made all these things as easy to be obtained or replaced as the most ordinary of our domestic furniture. But so long as articles must be shrouded from use, or used with fear and trembling, because their cost is above the general level of our means, we had better be without them, even though the most lucky of accidents may put their possession in our power. But it is not merely by the effort to maintain too much elegance that the sense of home liberty is banished from a house. It is sometimes expelled in another way, with all painstaking and conscientious strictness, by the worthiest and best of human beings, the blessed followers of Saint Martha. Have we not known them, the deaf, worthy creatures, up before daylight, causing most scrupulous lustrations of every pane of glass and inch of paint in our parlors, in consequence whereof every shutter and blind must be kept closed for days to come, lest the flies should speck the freshly washed windows and wainscoting? Dear shade of Aunt Mehitabel, forgive our boldness! Have we not been driven for days, in our youth, to read our newspaper in the front veranda, in the kitchen, out in the barn,--anywhere, in fact, where sunshine could be found,--because there was not a room in the house that was not cleaned, shut up, and darkened? Have we not shivered with cold, all the glowering, gloomy month of May, because, the august front parlor having undergone the spring cleaning, the andirons were snugly tied up in the tissue-paper, and an elegant frill of the same material was trembling before the mouth of the once glowing fireplace? Even so, dear soul, full of loving-kindness and hospitality as thou wast, yet ever making our house seem like a tomb! And with what patience wouldst thou sit sewing by a crack in the shutters an inch wide, rejoicing in thy immaculate paint and clear glass! But was there ever a thing of thy spotless and unsullied belongings which a boy might use? How I trembled to touch thy scoured tins, that hung in appalling brightness! with what awe I asked for a basket to pick strawberries! and where in the house could I find a place to eat a piece of gingerbread? How like a ruffian, a Tartar, a pirate, I always felt when I entered thy domains! and how, from day to day, I wondered at the immeasurable depths of depravity which were always leading me to upset something, or break or tear or derange something, in thy exquisitely kept premises! Somehow the impression was burned with overpowering force into my mind that houses and furniture, scrubbed floors, white curtains, bright tins and brasses, were the great, awful, permanent facts of existence; and that men and women, and particularly children, were the meddlesome intruders upon this divine order, every trace of whose intermeddling must be scrubbed out and obliterated in the quickest way possible. It seemed evident to me that houses would be far more perfect if nobody lived in them at all, but that, as men had really and absurdly taken to living in them, they must live as little as possible. My only idea of a house was a place full of traps and pitfalls for boys, a deadly temptation to sins which beset one every moment; and when I read about a sailor's free life on the ocean, I felt an untold longing to go forth and be free in like manner. But a truce to these fancies, and back again to our essay. If liberty in a house is a comfort to a husband, it is a necessity to children. When we say liberty, we do not mean license. We do not mean that Master Johnny be allowed to handle elegant volumes with bread-and-butter fingers, or that little Miss be suffered to drum on the piano, or practice line-drawing with a pin on varnished furniture. Still it is essential that the family parlors be not too fine for the family to sit in,--too fine for the ordinary accidents, haps and mishaps of reasonably well-trained children. The elegance of the parlor where papa and mamma sit and receive their friends should wear an inviting, not a hostile and bristling, aspect to little people. Its beauty and its order gradually form in the little mind a love of beauty and order, and the insensible carefulness of regard. Nothing is worse for a child than to shut him up in a room which he understands is his, _because_ he is disorderly,--where he is expected, of course, to maintain and keep disorder. We have sometimes pitied the poor little victims who show their faces longingly at the doors of elegant parlors, and are forthwith collared by the domestic police and consigned to some attic apartment, called a playroom, where chaos continually reigns. It is a mistake to suppose, because children derange a well-furnished apartment, that they like confusion. Order and beauty are always pleasant to them as to grown people, and disorder and defacement are painful; but they know neither how to create the one nor to prevent the other,--their little lives are a series of experiments, often making disorder by aiming at some new form of order. Yet, for all this, I am not one of those who feel that in a family everything should bend to the sway of these little people. They are the worst of tyrants in such houses: still, where children are, though the fact must not appear to them, _nothing must be done without a wise thought of them_. Here, as in all high art, the old motto is in force, "_Ars est celare artem_." Children who are taught too plainly, by every anxious look and word of their parents, by every family arrangement, by the impressment of every chance guest into the service, that their parents consider their education as the one important matter in creation, are apt to grow up fantastical, artificial, and hopelessly self-conscious. The stars cannot stop in their courses, even for our personal improvement, and the sooner children learn this the better. The great art is to organize a home which shall move on with a strong, wide, generous movement, where the little people shall act themselves out as freely and impulsively as can consist with the comfort of the whole, and where the anxious watching and planning for them shall be kept as secret from them as possible. It is well that one of the sunniest and airiest rooms in the house be the children's nursery. It is good philosophy, too, to furnish it attractively, even if the sum expended lower the standard of parlor luxuries. It is well that the children's chamber, which is to act constantly on their impressible natures for years, should command a better prospect, a sunnier aspect, than one which serves for a day's occupancy of the transient guest. It is well that journeys should be made or put off in view of the interests of the children; that guests should be invited with a view to their improvement; that some intimacies should be chosen and some rejected on their account. But it is not well that all this should, from infancy, be daily talked out before the child, and he grow up in egotism from moving in a sphere where everything from first to last is calculated and arranged with reference to himself. A little appearance of wholesome neglect combined with real care and never ceasing watchfulness has often seemed to do wonders in this work of setting human beings on their own feet for the life journey. Education is the highest object of home, but education in the widest sense,--education of the parents no less than of the children. In a true home the man and the woman receive, through their cares, their watchings, their hospitality, their charity, the last and highest finish that earth can put upon them. From that they must pass upward, for earth can teach them no more. The home education is incomplete unless it include the idea of hospitality and charity. Hospitality is a Biblical and apostolic virtue, and not so often recommended in Holy Writ without reason. Hospitality is much neglected in America for the very reasons touched upon above. We have received our ideas of propriety and elegance of living from old countries, where labor is cheap, where domestic service is a well-understood, permanent occupation, adopted cheerfully for life, and where of course there is such a subdivision of labor as insures great thoroughness in all its branches. We are ashamed or afraid to conform honestly and hardily to a state of things purely American. We have not yet accomplished what our friend the Doctor calls "our weaning," and learned that dinners with circuitous courses and divers other Continental and English refinements, well enough in their way, cannot be accomplished in families with two or three untrained servants, without an expense of care and anxiety which makes them heart-withering to the delicate wife, and too severe a trial to occur often. America is the land of subdivided fortunes, of a general average of wealth and comfort, and there ought to be, therefore, an understanding in the social basis far more simple than in the Old World. Many families of small fortunes know this,--they are quietly living so,--but they have not the steadiness to share their daily average living with a friend, a traveler, or guest, just as the Arab shares his tent and the Indian his bowl of succotash. They cannot have company, they say. Why? Because it is such a fuss to get out the best things, and then to put them back again. But why get out the best things! Why not give your friend what he would like a thousand times better,--a bit of your average home life, a seat at any time at your board, a seat at your fire? If he sees that there is a handle off your teacup, and that there is a crack across one of your plates, he only thinks, with a sigh of relief, "Well, mine aren't the only things that meet with accidents," and he feels nearer to you ever after; he will let you come to his table and see the cracks in his teacups, and you will condole with each other on the transient nature of earthly possessions. If it become apparent in these entirely undressed rehearsals that your children are sometimes disorderly, and that your cook sometimes overdoes the meat, and that your second girl sometimes is awkward in waiting, or has forgotten a table propriety, your friend only feels, "Ah, well, other people have trials as well as I," and he thinks, if you come to see him, he shall feel easy with you. "Having company" is an expense that may always be felt; but easy daily hospitality, the plate always on your table for a friend, is an expense that appears on no accounts book, and a pleasure that is daily and constant. Under this head of hospitality, let us suppose a case. A traveler comes from England; he comes in good faith and good feeling to see how Americans live. He merely wants to penetrate into the interior of domestic life, to see what there is genuinely and peculiarly American about it. Now here is Smilax, who is living, in a small, neat way, on his salary from the daily press. He remembers hospitalities received from our traveler in England, and wants to return them. He remembers, too, with dismay, a well-kept establishment, the well-served table, the punctilious, orderly servants. Smilax keeps two, a cook and chambermaid, who divide the functions of his establishment between them. What shall he do? Let him say, in a fair, manly way, "My dear fellow, I'm delighted to see you. I live in a small way, but I'll do my best for you, and Mrs. Smilax will be delighted. Come and dine with us, so and so, and we'll bring in one or two friends." So the man comes, and Mrs. Smilax serves up such a dinner as lies within the limits of her knowledge and the capacities of her servants. All plain, good of its kind, unpretending, without an attempt to do anything English or French,--to do anything more than if she were furnishing a gala dinner for her father or returned brother. Show him your house freely, just as it is, talk to him freely of it, just as he in England showed you his larger house and talked to you of his finer things. If the man is a true man, he will thank you for such unpretending, sincere welcome; if he is a man of straw, then he is not worth wasting Mrs. Smilax's health and spirits for, in unavailing efforts to get up a foreign dinner-party. A man who has any heart in him values a genuine, little bit of home more than anything else you can give him. He can get French cooking at a restaurant; he can buy expensive wines at first-class hotels, if he wants them; but the traveler, though ever so rich and ever so well-served at home, is, after all, nothing but a man as you are, and he is craving something that doesn't seem like an hotel,--some bit of real, genuine heart life. Perhaps he would like better than anything to show you the last photograph of his wife, or to read to you the great, round-hand letter of his ten-year-old which he has got to-day. He is ready to cry when he thinks of it. In this mood he goes to see you, hoping for something like, home, and you first receive him in a parlor opened only on state occasions, and that has been circumstantially and exactly furnished, as the upholsterer assures you, as every other parlor of the kind in the city is furnished. You treat him to a dinner got up for the occasion, with hired waiters,--a dinner which it has taken Mrs. Smilax a week to prepare for, and will take her a week to recover from,--for which the baby has been snubbed and turned off, to his loud indignation, and your young four-year-old sent to his aunts. Your traveler eats your dinner, and finds it inferior, as a work of art, to other dinners,--a poor imitation. He goes away and criticises; you hear of it, and resolve never to invite a foreigner again. But if you had given him a little of your heart, a little home warmth and feeling,--if you had shown him your baby, and let him romp with your four-year-old, and eat a genuine dinner with you,--would he have been false to that? Not so likely. He wanted something real and human,--you gave him a bad dress rehearsal, and dress rehearsals always provoke criticism. Besides hospitality, there is, in a true home, a mission of charity. It is a just law which regulates the possession of great or beautiful works of art in the Old World, that they shall in some sense be considered the property of all who can appreciate. Fine grounds have hours when the public may be admitted; pictures and statues may be shown to visitors: and this is a noble charity. In the same manner the fortunate individuals who have achieved the greatest of all human works of art should employ it as a sacred charity. How many, morally wearied, wandering, disabled, are healed and comforted by the warmth of a true home! When a mother has sent her son to the temptations of a distant city, what news is so glad to her heart as that he has found some quiet family where he visits often and is made to feel at HOME? How many young men have good women saved from temptation and shipwreck by drawing them often to the sheltered corner by the fireside! The poor artist; the wandering genius who has lost his way in this world, and stumbles like a child among hard realities; the many men and women who, while they have houses, have no homes, see from afar, in their distant, bleak life journey, the light of a true home fire, and, if made welcome there, warm their stiffened limbs, and go forth stronger to their pilgrimage. Let those who have accomplished this beautiful and perfect work of divine art be liberal of its influence. Let them not seek to bolt the doors and draw the curtains; for they know not, and will never know till the future life, of the good they may do by the ministration of this great charity of home. We have heard much lately of the restricted sphere of woman. We have been told how many spirits among women are of a wider, stronger, more heroic mould than befits the mere routine of housekeeping. It may be true that there are many women far too great, too wise, too high, for mere housekeeping. But where is the woman in any way too great, or too high, or too wise, to spend herself in creating a home? What can any woman make diviner, higher, better? From such homes go forth all heroisms, all inspirations, all great deeds. Such mothers and such homes have made the heroes and martyrs, faithful unto death, who have given their precious lives to us during these three years of our agony! Homes are the work of art peculiar to the genius of woman. Man helps in this work, but woman leads; the hive is always in confusion without the queen bee. But what a woman must she be who does this work perfectly! She comprehends all, she balances and arranges all; all different tastes and temperaments find in her their rest, and she can unite at one hearthstone the most discordant elements. In her is order, yet an order ever veiled and concealed by indulgence. None are checked, reproved, abridged of privileges by her love of system; for she knows that order was made for the family, and not the family for order. Quietly she takes on herself what all others refuse or overlook. What the unwary disarrange she silently rectifies. Everybody in her sphere breathes easy, feels free; and the driest twig begins in her sunshine to put out buds and blossoms. So quiet are her operations and movements that none sees that it is she who holds all things in harmony; only, alas, when she is gone, how many things suddenly appear disordered, inharmonious, neglected! All these threads have been smilingly held in her weak hand. Alas, if that is no longer there! Can any woman be such a housekeeper without inspiration? No. In the words of the old church service, "her soul must ever have affiance in God." The New Jerusalem of a perfect home cometh down from God out of heaven. But to make such a home is ambition high and worthy enough for any woman, be she what she may. One thing more. Right on the threshold of all perfection lies the cross to be taken up. No one can go over or around that cross in science or in art. Without labor and self-denial neither Raphael nor Michel Angelo nor Newton was made perfect. Nor can man or woman create a true home who is not willing in the outset to embrace life heroically to encounter labor and sacrifice. Only to such shall this divinest power be given to create on earth that which is the nearest image of heaven. IV THE ECONOMY OF THE BEAUTIFUL Talking to you in this way once a month, O my confidential reader, there seems to be danger, as in all intervals of friendship, that we shall not readily be able to take up our strain of conversation just where we left off. Suffer me, therefore, to remind you that the month past left us seated at the fireside, just as we had finished reading of what a home was, and how to make one. The fire had burned low, and great, solid hickory coals were winking dreamily at us from out their fluffy coats of white ashes,--just as if some household sprite there were opening now one eye and then the other, and looking in a sleepy, comfortable way at us. The close of my piece about the good house mother had seemed to tell on my little audience. Marianne had nestled close to her mother, and laid her head on her knee; and though Jenny sat up straight as a pin, yet her ever busy knitting was dropped in her lap, and I saw the glint of a tear in her quick, sparkling eye,--yes, actually a little bright bead fell upon her work; whereupon she started up actively, and declared that the fire wanted just one more stick to make a blaze before bedtime; and then there was such a raking among the coals, such an adjusting of the andirons, such vigorous arrangement of the wood, and such a brisk whisking of the hearth-brush, that it was evident Jenny had something on her mind. When all was done, she sat down again and looked straight into the blaze, which went dancing and crackling up, casting glances and flecks of light on our pictures and books, and making all the old, familiar furniture seem full of life and motion. "I think that's a good piece," she said decisively. "I think those are things that should be thought about." Now Jenny was the youngest of our flock, and therefore, in a certain way, regarded by my wife and me as perennially "the baby;" and these little, old-fashioned, decisive ways of announcing her opinions seemed so much a part of her nature, so peculiarly "Jennyish," as I used to say, that my wife and I only exchanged amused glances over her head when they occurred. In a general way, Jenny, standing in the full orb of her feminine instincts like Diana in the moon, rather looked down on all masculine views of women's matters as _tolerabiles ineptioe_; but towards her papa she had gracious turns of being patronizing to the last degree; and one of these turns was evidently at its flood-tide, as she proceeded to say,-- "_I_ think papa is right,--that keeping house and having a home, and all that, is a very serious thing, and that people go into it with very little thought about it. I really think those things papa has been saying there ought to be thought about." "Papa," said Marianne, "I wish you would tell me exactly how you would spend that money you gave me for house-furnishing. I should like just your views." "Precisely," said Jenny with eagerness; "because it is just as papa says,--a sensible man, who has thought and had experience, can't help having some ideas, even about women's affairs, that are worth attending to. I think so, decidedly." I acknowledged the compliment for my sex and myself with my best bow. "But then, papa," said Marianne, "I can't help feeling sorry that one can't live in such a way as to have beautiful things around one. I'm sorry they must cost so much, and take so much care, for I am made so that I really want them. I do so like to see pretty things! I do like rich carpets and elegant carved furniture, and fine china and cut-glass and silver. I can't bear mean, common-looking rooms. I should so like to have my house look beautiful!" "Your house ought not to look mean and common,--your house ought to look beautiful," I replied. "It would be a sin and a shame to have it otherwise. No house ought to be fitted up for a future home without a strong and a leading reference to beauty in all its arrangements. If I were a Greek, I should say that the first household libation should be made to beauty; but, being an old-fashioned Christian, I would say that he who prepares a home with no eye to beauty neglects the example of the great Father who has filled our earth home with such elaborate ornament." "But then, papa, there's the money!" said Jenny, shaking her little head wisely. "You men don't think of that. You want us girls, for instance, to be patterns of economy, but we must always be wearing fresh, nice things; you abhor soiled gloves and worn shoes; and yet how is all this to be done without money? And it's just so in housekeeping. You sit in your armchairs, and conjure up visions of all sorts of impossible things to be done; but when mamma there takes out that little account-book, and figures away on the cost of things, where do the visions go?" "You are mistaken, my little dear, and you talk just like a woman,"--this was my only way of revenging myself; "that is to say, you jump to conclusions, without sufficient knowledge. I maintain that in house-furnishing, as well as woman-furnishing, there's nothing so economical as beauty." "There's one of papa's paradoxes!" said Jenny. "Yes," said I, "that is my thesis, which I shall nail up over the mantelpiece there, as Luther nailed his to the church door. It is time to rake up the fire now; but to-morrow night I will give you a paper on the Economy of the Beautiful." * * * * * "Come, now we are to have papa's paradox," said Jenny, as soon as the tea-things had been carried out. _Entre nous_, I must tell you that insensibly we had fallen into the habit of taking our tea by my study fire. Tea, you know, is a mere nothing in itself, its only merit being its social and poetic associations, its warmth and fragrance; and the more socially and informally it can be dispensed, the more in keeping with its airy and cheerful nature. Our circle was enlightened this evening by the cheery visage of Bob Stephens, seated, as of right, close to Marianne's work-basket. "You see, Bob," said Jenny, "papa has undertaken to prove that the most beautiful things are always the cheapest." "I'm glad to hear that," said Bob; "for there's a carved antique bookcase and study-table that I have my eye on, and if this can in any way be made to appear"-- "Oh, it won't be made to appear," said Jenny, settling herself at her knitting, "only in some transcendental, poetic sense, such as papa can always make out. Papa is more than half a poet, and his truths turn out to be figures of rhetoric when one comes to apply them to matters of fact." "Now, Miss Jenny, please remember my subject and thesis," I replied,--"that in house-furnishing there is nothing so economical as beauty; and I will make it good against all comers, not by figures of rhetoric, but by figures of arithmetic. I am going to be very matter-of-fact and commonplace in my details, and keep ever in view the addition table. I will instance a case which has occurred under my own observation." THE ECONOMY OF THE BEAUTIFUL Two of the houses lately built on the new land in Boston were bought by two friends, Philip and John. Philip had plenty of money, and paid the cash down for his house, without feeling the slightest vacancy in his pocket. John, who was an active, rising young man, just entering on a flourishing business, had expended all his moderate savings for years in the purchase of his dwelling, and still had a mortgage remaining, which he hoped to clear off by his future successes. Philip begins the work of furnishing as people do with whom money is abundant, and who have simply to go from shop to shop and order all that suits their fancy and is considered "the thing" in good society. John begins to furnish with very little money. He has a wife and two little ones, and he wisely deems that to insure to them a well-built house, in an open, airy situation, with conveniences for warming, bathing, and healthy living, is a wise beginning in life; but it leaves him little or nothing beyond. Behold, then, Philip and his wife, well pleased, going the rounds of shops and stores in fitting up their new dwelling, and let us follow step by step. To begin with the wall-paper. Imagine a front and back parlor, with folding-doors, with two south windows on the front, and two looking on a back court, after the general manner of city houses. We will suppose they require about thirty rolls of wall-paper. Philip buys the heaviest French velvet, with gildings and traceries, at four dollars a roll. This, by the time it has been put on, with gold mouldings, according to the most established taste of the best paper-hangers, will bring the wall-paper of the two rooms to a figure something like two hundred dollars. Now they proceed to the carpet stores, and there are thrown at their feet by obsequious clerks velvets and Axminsters, with flowery convolutions and medallion centres, as if the flower gardens of the tropics were whirling in waltzes, with graceful lines of arabesque,--roses, callas, lilies, knotted, wreathed, twined, with blue and crimson and golden ribbons, dazzling marvels of color and tracery. There is no restraint in price,--four or six dollars a yard, it is all the same to them,--and soon a magic flower garden blooms on the floors, at a cost of five hundred dollars. A pair of elegant rugs, at fifty dollars apiece, complete the inventory, and bring our rooms to the mark of eight hundred dollars for papering and carpeting alone. Now come the great mantel-mirrors for four hundred more, and our rooms progress. Then comes the upholsterer, and measures our four windows, that he may skillfully barricade them from air and sunshine. The fortifications against heaven, thus prepared, cost, in the shape of damask, cord, tassels, shades, laces, and cornices, about two hundred dollars per window. To be sure, they make the rooms close and sombre as the grave, but they are of the most splendid stuffs; and if the sun would only reflect, he would see, himself, how foolish it was for him to try to force himself into a window guarded by his betters. If there is anything cheap and plebeian, it is sunshine and fresh air! Behold us, then, with our two rooms papered, carpeted, and curtained for two thousand dollars; and now are to be put in them sofas, lounges, étagères, centre-tables, screens, chairs of every pattern and device, for which it is but moderate to allow a thousand more. We have now two parlors furnished at an outlay of three thousand dollars, without a single picture, a single article of statuary, a single object of art of any kind, and without any light to see them by if they were there. We must say for our Boston upholsterers and furniture-makers that such good taste generally reigns in their establishments that rooms furnished at haphazard from them cannot fail of a certain air of good taste, so far as the individual things are concerned. But the different articles we have supposed, having been ordered without reference to one another or the rooms, have, when brought together, no unity of effect, and the general result is scattering and confused. If asked how Philip's parlors look, your reply is, "Oh, the usual way of such parlors,--everything that such people usually get,--medallion carpets, carved furniture, great mirrors, bronze mantel ornaments, and so on." The only impression a stranger receives, while waiting in the dim twilight of these rooms, is that their owner is rich, and able to get good, handsome things, such as all other rich people get. Now our friend John, as often happens in America, is moving in the same social circle with Philip, visiting the same people,--his house is the twin of the one Philip has been furnishing,--and how shall he, with a few hundred dollars, make his rooms even presentable beside those which Philip has fitted up elegantly at three thousand? Now for the economy of beauty. Our friend must make his prayer to the Graces,--for, if they cannot save him, nobody can. One thing John has to begin with, that rare gift to man, a wife with the magic cestus of Venus,--not around her waist, but, if such a thing could be, in her finger-ends. All that she touches falls at once into harmony and proportion. Her eye for color and form is intuitive: let her arrange a garret, with nothing but boxes, barrels, and cast-off furniture in it, and ten to one she makes it seem the most attractive place in the house. It is a veritable "gift of good faërie," this tact of beautifying and arranging, that some women have; and, on the present occasion, it has a real, material value, that can be estimated in dollars and cents. Come with us and you can see the pair taking their survey of the yet unfurnished parlors, as busy and happy as a couple of bluebirds picking up the first sticks and straws for their nest. "There are two sunny windows to begin with," says the good fairy, with an appreciative glance. "That insures flowers all winter." "Yes," says John; "I never would look at a house without a good sunny exposure. Sunshine is the best ornament of a house, and worth an extra thousand a year." "Now for our wall-paper," says she. "Have you looked at wall-papers, John?" "Yes; we shall get very pretty ones for thirty-seven cents a roll; all you want of a paper, you know, is to make a ground-tint to throw out your pictures and other matters, and to reflect a pleasant tone of light." "Well, John, you know Uncle James says that a stone color is the best, but I can't bear those cold blue grays." "Nor I," says John. "If we must have gray, let it at least be a gray suffused with gold or rose color, such as you see at evening in the clouds." "So I think," responds she; "but, better, I should like a paper with a tone of buff,--something that produces warm yellowish reflections, and will almost make you think the sun is shining in cold gray weather; and then there is nothing that lights up so cheerfully in the evening. In short, John, I think the color of a _zafferano_ rose will be just about the shade we want." "Well, I can find that, in good American paper, as I said before, at from thirty-seven to forty cents a roll. Then our bordering: there's an important question, for that must determine the carpet, the chairs, and everything else. Now what shall be the ground-tint of our rooms?" "There are only two to choose between," says the lady,--"green and maroon: which is the best for the picture?" "I think," says John, looking above the mantelpiece, as if he saw a picture there,--"I think a border of maroon velvet, with maroon furniture, is the best for the picture." "I think so, too," said she; "and then we will have that lovely maroon and crimson carpet that I saw at Lowe's; it is an ingrain, to be sure, but has a Brussels pattern, a mossy, mixed figure, of different shades of crimson; it has a good warm, strong color, and when I come to cover the lounges and our two old armchairs with maroon rep, it will make such a pretty effect." "Yes," said John; "and then, you know, our picture is so bright, it will light up the whole. Everything depends on the picture." Now as to "the picture," it has a story which must be told. John, having been all his life a worshiper and adorer of beauty and beautiful things, had never passed to or from his business without stopping at the print-shop windows, and seeing a little of what was there. On one of these occasions he was smitten to the heart with the beauty of an autumn landscape, where the red maples and sumachs, the purple and crimson oaks, all stood swathed and harmonized together in the hazy Indian summer atmosphere. There was a great yellow chestnut tree, on a distant hill, which stood out so naturally that John instinctively felt his fingers tingling for a basket, and his heels alive with a desire to bound over on to the rustling hillside and pick up the glossy brown nuts. Everything was there of autumn, even to the goldenrod and purple asters and scarlet creepers in the foreground. John went in and inquired. It was by an unknown French artist, without name or patrons, who had just come to our shores to study our scenery, and this was the first picture he had exposed for sale. John had just been paid a quarter's salary; he bethought him of board-bill and washerwoman, sighed, and faintly offered fifty dollars. To his surprise he was taken up at once, and the picture became his. John thought himself dreaming. He examined his treasure over and over, and felt sure that it was the work of no amateur beginner, but of a trained hand and a true artist soul. So he found his way to the studio of the stranger, and apologized for having got such a gem for so much less than its worth. "It was all I could give, though," he said; "and one who paid four times as much could not value it more." And so John took one and another of his friends, with longer purses than his own, to the studio of the modest stranger; and now his pieces command their full worth in the market, and he works with orders far ahead of his ability to execute, giving to the canvas the trails of American scenery as appreciated and felt by the subtile delicacy of the French mind,--our rural summer views, our autumn glories, and the dreamy, misty delicacy of our snowy winter landscapes. Whoso would know the truth of the same, let him inquire for the modest studio of Morvillier, at Maiden, scarce a bowshot from our Boston. This picture had always been the ruling star of John's house, his main dependence for brightening up his bachelor apartments; and when he came to the task of furbishing those same rooms for a fair occupant, the picture was still his mine of gold. For a picture painted by a real artist, who studies Nature minutely and conscientiously, has something of the charm of the good Mother herself,--something of her faculty of putting on different aspects under different lights. John and his wife had studied their picture at all hours of the day: they had seen how it looked when the morning sun came aslant the scarlet maples and made a golden shimmer over the blue mountains, how it looked toned down in the cool shadows of afternoon, and how it warmed up in the sunset and died off mysteriously into the twilight; and now, when larger parlors were to be furnished, the picture was still the tower of strength, the rallying-point of their hopes. "Do you know, John," said the wife, hesitating, "I am really in doubt whether we shall not have to get at least a few new chairs and a sofa for our parlors? They are putting in such splendid things at the other door that I am positively ashamed of ours; the fact is, they look almost disreputable,--like a heap of rubbish." "Well," said John, laughing, "I don't suppose all together sent to an auction-room would bring us fifty dollars, and yet, such as they are, they answer the place of better things for us; and the fact is, Mary, the hard impassable barrier in the case is that there really is no money to get any more." "Ah, well, then, if there isn't, we must see what we can do with these, and summon all the good fairies to our aid," said Mary. "There's your little cabinet-maker, John, will look over the things and furbish them up; there's that broken arm of the chair must be mended, and everything re-varnished; then I have found such a lovely rep, of just the richest shade of maroon, inclining to crimson, and when we come to cover the lounges and armchairs and sofas and ottomans all alike, you know they will be quite another thing." "Trust you for that, Mary! By the bye, I've found a nice little woman, who has worked on upholstery, who will come in by the day, and be the hands that shall execute the decrees of your taste." "Yes, I am sure we shall get on capitally. Do you know that I'm almost glad we can't get new things? It's a sort of enterprise to see what we can do with old ones." "Now, you see, Mary," said John, seating himself on a lime-cask which the plasterers had left, and taking out his memorandum-book,--"you see, I've calculated this thing all over; I've found a way by which I can make our rooms beautiful and attractive without a cent expended on new furniture." "Well, let's hear." "Well, my way is short and simple. We must put things into our rooms that people will look at, so that they will forget to look at the furniture, and never once trouble their heads about it. People never look at furniture so long as there is anything else to look at; just as Napoleon, when away on one of his expeditions, being told that the French populace were getting disaffected, wrote back, 'Gild the _dome des Invalides_,' and so they gilded it, and the people, looking at that, forgot everything else." "But I'm not clear yet," said Mary, "what is coming of this rhetoric." "Well, then, Mary, I'll tell you. A suit of new carved black-walnut furniture, severe in taste and perfect in style, such as I should choose at David & Saul's, could not be got under three hundred dollars, and I haven't the three hundred to give. What, then, shall we do? We must fall back on our resources; we must look over our treasures. We have our proof cast of the great glorious head of the Venus di Milo; we have those six beautiful photographs of Rome, that Brown brought to us; we have the great German lithograph of the San Sisto Mother and Child, and we have the two angel heads, from the same; we have that lovely golden twilight sketch of Heade's; we have some sea photographs of Bradford's; we have an original pen-and-ink sketch by Billings; and then, as before, we have 'our picture.' What has been the use of our watching at the gates and waiting at the doors of Beauty all our lives, if she hasn't thrown us out a crust now and then, so that we might have it for time of need? Now, you see, Mary, we must make the toilet of our rooms just as a pretty woman makes hers when money runs low, and she sorts and freshens her ribbons, and matches them to her hair and eyes, and, with a bow here and a bit of fringe there, and a button somewhere else, dazzles us into thinking that she has an infinity of beautiful attire. Our rooms are new and pretty of themselves, to begin with; the tint of the paper, and the rich coloring of the border, corresponding with the furniture and carpets, will make them seem prettier. And now for arrangement. Take this front room. I propose to fill those two recesses each side of the fireplace with my books, in their plain pine cases, just breast-high from the floor: they are stained a good dark color, and nobody need stick a pin in them to find out that they are not rosewood. The top of these shelves on either side to be covered with the same stuff as the furniture, finished with a crimson fringe. On top of the shelves on one side of the fireplace I shall set our noble Venus di Milo, and I shall buy at Cicci's the lovely Clytie, and put it the other side. Then I shall get of Williams & Everett two of their chromo lithographs, which give you all the style and charm of the best English watercolor school. I will have the lovely Bay of Amalfi over my Venus, because she came from those suns and skies of southern Italy, and I will hang Lake Como over my Clytie. Then, in the middle, over the fireplace, shall be 'our picture.' Over each door shall hang one of the lithographed angel heads of the San Sisto, to watch our going out and coming in; and the glorious Mother and Child shall hang opposite the Venus di Milo, to show how Greek and Christian unite in giving the noblest type to womanhood. And then, when we have all our sketches and lithographs framed and hung here and there, and your flowers blooming as they always do, and your ivies wandering and rambling as they used to, and hanging in the most graceful ways and places, and all those little shells and ferns and vases, which you are always conjuring with, tastefully arranged, I'll venture to say that our rooms will be not only pleasant, but beautiful, and that people will oftener say, 'How beautiful!' when they enter, than if we spent three times the money on new furniture." In the course of a year after this conversation, one and another of my acquaintances were often heard speaking of John Morton's house. "Such beautiful rooms,--so charmingly furnished,--you must go and see them. What does make them so much pleasanter than those rooms in the other house, which have everything in them that money can buy?" So said the folk; for nine people out of ten only feel the effect of a room, and never analyze the causes from which it flows: they know that certain rooms seem dull and heavy and confused, but they don't know why; that certain others seem cheerful, airy, and beautiful, but they know not why. The first exclamation, on entering John's parlors, was so often "How beautiful!" that it became rather a byword in the family. Estimated by their mere money value, the articles in the rooms were of very trifling worth; but, as they stood arranged and combined, they had all the effect of a lovely picture. Although the statuary was only plaster, and the photographs and lithographs such as were all within the compass of limited means, yet every one of them was a good thing of its own kind, or a good reminder of some of the greatest works of art. A good plaster cast is a daguerreotype, so to speak, of a great statue, though it may be bought for five or six dollars, while its original is not to be had for any namable sum. A chromo lithograph of the best sort gives all the style and manner and effect of Turner or Stanfield, or any of the best of modern artists, though you buy it for five or ten dollars, and though the original would command a thousand guineas. The lithographs from Raphael's immortal picture give you the results of a whole age of artistic culture, in a form within the compass of very humble means. There is now selling for five dollars at Williams & Everett's a photograph of Cheney's crayon drawing of the San Sisto Madonna and Child, which has the very spirit of the glorious original. Such a picture, hung against the wall of a child's room, would train its eye from infancy; and yet how many will freely spend five dollars in embroidery on its dress, that say they cannot afford works of art! There was one advantage which John and his wife found, in the way in which they furnished their house, that I have hinted at before: it gave freedom to their children. Though their rooms were beautiful, it was not with the tantalizing beauty of expensive and frail knick-knacks. Pictures hung against the wall, and statuary safely lodged on brackets, speak constantly to the childish eye, but are out of the reach of childish fingers, and are not upset by childish romps. They are not, like china and crystal, liable to be used and abused by servants; they do not wear out; they are not spoiled by dust, nor consumed by moths. The beauty once there is always there; though the mother be ill and in her chamber, she has no fears that she shall find it all wrecked and shattered. And this style of beauty, inexpensive as it is, compared with luxurious furniture, is a means of cultivation. No child is ever stimulated to draw or to read by an Axminster carpet or a carved centre-table; but a room surrounded with photographs and pictures and fine casts suggests a thousand inquiries, stimulates the little eye and hand. The child is found with its pencil, drawing, or he asks for a book on Venice, or wants to hear the history of the Roman Forum. But I have made my article too long. I will write another on the moral and intellectual effects of house-furnishing. "I have proved my point, Miss Jenny, have I not? _In house-furnishing nothing is more economical than beauty._" "Yes, papa," said Jenny; "I give it up." V RAKING UP THE FIRE We have a custom at our house which we call _raking up the fire_. That is to say, the last half hour before bedtime, we draw in, shoulder to shoulder, around the last brands and embers of our hearth, which we prick up and brighten, and dispose for a few farewell flickers and glimmers. This is a grand time for discussion. Then we talk over parties, if the young people have been out of an evening,--a book, if we have been reading one; we discuss and analyze characters,--give our views on all subjects, æsthetic, theological, and scientific, in a way most wonderful to hear; and, in fact, we sometimes get so engaged in our discussions that every spark of the fire burns out, and we begin to feel ourselves shivering around the shoulders, before we can remember that it is bedtime. So, after the reading of my last article, we had a "raking-up talk,"--to wit, Jenny, Marianne, and I, with Bob Stephens: my wife, still busy at her work-basket, sat at the table a little behind us. Jenny, of course, opened the ball in her usual incisive manner. "But now, papa, after all you say in your piece there, I cannot help feeling that, if I had the taste and the money too, it would be better than the taste alone with no money. I like the nice arrangements and the books and the drawings, but I think all these would appear better still with really elegant furniture." "Who doubts that?" said I. "Give me a large tub of gold coin to dip into, and the furnishing and beautifying of a house is a simple affair. The same taste that could make beauty out of cents and dimes could make it more abundantly out of dollars and eagles. But I have been speaking for those who have not and cannot get riches, and who wish to have agreeable houses; and I begin in the outset by saying that beauty is a thing to be respected, reverenced, and devoutly cared for, and then I say that BEAUTY IS CHEAP,--nay, to put it so that the shrewdest Yankee will understand it,--BEAUTY IS THE CHEAPEST THING YOU CAN HAVE, because in many ways it is a substitute for expense. A few vases of flowers in a room, a few blooming, well-kept plants, a few prints framed in fanciful frames of cheap domestic fabric, a statuette, a bracket, an engraving, a pencil-sketch,--above all, a few choice books,--all these arranged by a woman who has the gift in her finger-ends, often produce such an illusion on the mind's eye that one goes away without once having noticed that the cushion of the armchair was worn out, and that some veneering had fallen off the centre-table. "I have a friend, a schoolmistress, who lives in a poor little cottage enough, which, let alone of the Graces, might seem mean and sordid, but a few flower-seeds and a little weeding in the spring make it, all summer, an object which everybody stops to look at. Her æsthetic soul was at first greatly tried with the water-barrel which stood under the eaves spout,--a most necessary evil, since only thus could her scanty supply of soft water for domestic purposes be secured. One of the Graces, however, suggested to her a happy thought. She planted a row of morning-glories round the bottom of her barrel, and drove a row of tacks around the top, and strung her water-butt with twine, like a great harpsichord. A few weeks covered the twine with blossoming plants, which every morning were a mass of many-colored airy blooms, waving in graceful sprays, and looking at themselves in the water. The water-barrel, in fact, became a celebrated stroke of ornamental gardening, which the neighbors came to look at." "Well, but," said Jenny, "everybody hasn't mamma's faculty with flowers. Flowers will grow for some people, and for some they won't. Nobody can see what mamma does so very much, but her plants always look fresh and thriving and healthy,--her things blossom just when she wants them, and do anything else she wishes them to; and there are other people that fume and fuss and try, and their things won't do anything at all. There's Aunt Easygo has plant after plant brought from the greenhouse, and hanging-baskets, and all sorts of things; but her plants grow yellow and drop their leaves, and her hanging-baskets get dusty and poverty-stricken, while mamma's go on flourishing as heart could desire." "I can tell you what your mother puts into her plants," said I,--"just what she has put into her children, and all her other home-things,--her _heart_. She loves them; she lives in them; she has in herself a plant-life and a plant-sympathy. She feels for them as if she herself were a plant; she anticipates their wants,--always remembers them without an effort, and so the care flows to them daily and hourly. She hardly knows when she does the things that make them grow, but she gives them a minute a hundred times a day. She moves this nearer the glass,--draws that back,--detects some thief of a worm on one,--digs at the root of another, to see why it droops,--washes these leaves and sprinkles those,--waters, and refrains from watering, all with the habitual care of love. Your mother herself doesn't know why her plants grow; it takes a philosopher and a writer for the 'Atlantic' to tell her what the cause is." Here I saw my wife laughing over her work-basket as she answered,-- "Girls, one of these days _I_ will write an article for the 'Atlantic,' that your papa need not have _all_ the say to himself; however, I believe he has hit the nail on the head this time." "Of course he has," said Marianne. "But, mamma, I am afraid to begin to depend much on plants for the beauty of my rooms, for fear I should not have your gift,--and, of all forlorn and hopeless things in a room, ill-kept plants are the most so." "I would not recommend," said I, "a young housekeeper, just beginning, to rest much for her home ornament on plant-keeping, unless she has an experience of her own love and talent in this line which makes her sure of success; for plants will not thrive if they are forgotten or overlooked, and only tended in occasional intervals; and, as Marianne says, neglected plants are the most forlorn of all things." "But, papa," said Marianne anxiously, "there, in those patent parlors of John's that you wrote of, flowers acted a great part." "The charm of those parlors of John's may be chemically analyzed," I said. "In the first place, there is sunshine, a thing that always affects the human nerves of happiness. Why else is it that people are always so glad to see the sun after a long storm? why are bright days matters of such congratulation? Sunshine fills a house with a thousand beautiful and fanciful effects of light and shade,--with soft, luminous, reflected radiances, that give picturesque effects to the pictures, books, statuettes of an interior. John, happily, had no money to buy brocatelle curtains, and, besides this, he loved sunshine too much to buy them, if he could. He had been enough with artists to know that heavy damask curtains darken precisely that part of the window where the light proper for pictures and statuary should come in, namely, the upper part. The fashionable system of curtains lights only the legs of the chairs and the carpets, and leaves all the upper portion of the room in shadow. John's windows have shades which can at pleasure be drawn down from the top or up from the bottom, so that the best light to be had may always be arranged for his little interior." "Well, papa," said Marianne, "in your chemical analysis of John's rooms, what is the next thing to the sunshine?" "The next," said I, "is harmony of color. The wall-paper, the furniture, the carpets, are of tints that harmonize with one another. This is a grace in rooms always, and one often neglected. The French have an expressive phrase with reference to articles which are out of accord,--they say that they swear at each other, I have been in rooms where I seemed to hear the wall-paper swearing at the carpet, and the carpet swearing back at the wall-paper, and each article of furniture swearing at the rest. These appointments may all of them be of the most expensive kind, but with such dis-harmony no arrangement can ever produce anything but a vulgar and disagreeable effect. On the other hand, I have been in rooms where all the material was cheap and the furniture poor, but where, from some instinctive knowledge of the reciprocal effect of colors, everything was harmonious, and produced a sense of elegance. "I recollect once traveling on a Western canal through a long stretch of wilderness, and stopping to spend the night at an obscure settlement of a dozen houses. We were directed to lodgings in a common frame house at a little distance, where, it seemed, the only hotel was kept. When we entered the parlor, we were struck with utter amazement at its prettiness, which affected us before we began to ask ourselves how it came to be pretty. It was, in fact, only one of the miracles of harmonious color working with very simple materials. Some woman had been busy there, who had both eyes and fingers. The sofa, the common wooden rocking-chairs, and some ottomans, probably made of old soap-boxes, were all covered with American nankeen of a soft yellowish-brown, with a bordering of blue print. The window-shades, the table-cover, and the piano-cloth all repeated the same colors, in the same cheap material. A simple straw matting was laid over the floor, and, with a few books, a vase of flowers, and one or two prints, the room had a home-like and even elegant air, that struck us all the more forcibly from its contrast with the usual tawdry, slovenly style of such parlors. "The means used for getting up this effect were the most inexpensive possible,--simply the following out, in cheap material, a law of uniformity and harmony, which always will produce beauty. In the same manner, I have seen a room furnished, whose effect was really gorgeous in color, where the only materials used were Turkey-red cotton and a simple ingrain carpet of corresponding color. "Now, you girls have been busy lately in schemes for buying a velvet carpet for the new parlor that is to be, and the only points that have seemed to weigh in the council were that it was velvet, that it was cheaper than velvets usually are, and that it was a genteel pattern." "Now, papa," said Jenny, "what ears you have! We thought you were reading all the time!" "I see what you are going to say," said Marianne. "You think that we have not once mentioned the consideration which should determine the carpet, whether it will harmonize with our other things. But you see, papa, we don't really know what our other things are to be." "Yes," said Jenny, "and Aunt Easygo said it was an unusually good chance to get a velvet carpet." "Yet, good as the chance is, it costs just twice as much as an ingrain." "Yes, papa, it does." "And you are not sure that the effect of it, after you get it down, will be as good as a well-chosen ingrain one." "That's true," said Marianne reflectively. "But then, papa," said Jenny, "Aunt Easygo said she never heard of such a bargain; only think, two dollars a yard for a _velvet_!" "And why is it two dollars a yard? Is the man a personal friend, that he wishes to make you a present of a dollar on the yard, or is there some reason why it is undesirable?" said I. "Well, you know, papa, he said those large patterns were not so salable." "To tell the truth," said Marianne, "I never did like the pattern exactly; as to uniformity of tint, it might match with anything, for there's every color of the rainbow in it." "You see, papa, it's a gorgeous flower-pattern," said Jenny. "Well, Marianne, how many yards of this wonderfully cheap carpet do you want?" "We want sixty yards for both rooms," said Jenny, always primed with statistics. "That will be a hundred and twenty dollars," I said. "Yes," said Jenny; "and we went over the figures together, and thought we could make it out by economizing in other things. Aunt Easygo said that the carpet was half the battle,--that it gave the air to everything else." "Well, Marianne, if you want a man's advice in the case, mine is at your service." "That is just what I want, papa." "Well, then, my dear, choose your wall-papers and borderings, and, when they are up, choose an ingrain carpet to harmonize with them, and adapt your furniture to the same idea. The sixty dollars that you save on your carpet spend on engravings, chromo lithographs, or photographs of some good works of art, to adorn your walls." "Papa, I'll do it," said Marianne. "My little dear," said I, "your papa may seem to be a sleepy old book-worm, yet he has his eyes open. Do you think I don't know why my girls have the credit of being the best-dressed girls on the street?" "Oh papa!" cried out both girls in a breath. "Fact, that!" said Bob, with energy, pulling at his mustache. "Everybody talks about your dress, and wonders how you make it out." "Well," said I, "I presume you do not go into a shop and buy a yard of ribbon because it is selling at half price, and put it on without considering complexion, eyes, hair, and shade of the dress, do you?" "Of course we don't!" chimed in the duo with energy. "Of course you don't. Haven't I seen you mincing downstairs, with all your colors harmonized, even to your gloves and gaiters? Now, a room must be dressed as carefully as a lady." "Well, I'm convinced," said Jenny, "that papa knows how to make rooms prettier than Aunt Easygo; but then she said this was cheap, because it would outlast two common carpets." "But, as you pay double price," said I, "I don't see that. Besides, I would rather, in the course of twenty years, have two nice, fresh ingrain carpets, of just the color and pattern that suited my rooms, than labor along with one ill-chosen velvet that harmonized with nothing." "I give it up," said Jenny; "I give it up." "Now, understand me," said I; "I am not traducing velvet or Brussels or Axminster. I admit that more beautiful effects can be found in those goods than in the humbler fabrics of the carpet rooms. Nothing would delight me more than to put an unlimited credit to Marianne's account, and let her work out the problems of harmonious color in velvet and damask. All I have to say is, that certain unities of color, certain general arrangements, will secure very nearly as good general effects in either material. A library with a neat, mossy green carpet on the floor, harmonizing with wall-paper and furniture, looks generally as well, whether the mossy green is made in Brussels or in ingrain. In the carpet stores, these two materials stand side by side in the very same pattern, and one is often as good for the purpose as the other. A lady of my acquaintance, some years since, employed an artist to decorate her parlors. The walls being frescoed and tinted to suit his ideal, he immediately issued his decree that her splendid velvet carpets must be sent to auction, and others bought of certain colors harmonizing with the walls. Unable to find exactly the color and pattern he wanted, he at last had the carpets woven in a neighboring factory, where, as yet, they had only the art of weaving ingrains. Thus was the material sacrificed at once to the harmony." I remarked, in passing, that this was before Bigelow's mechanical genius had unlocked for America the higher secrets of carpet-weaving, and made it possible to have one's desires accomplished in Brussels or velvet. In those days, English carpet-weavers did not send to America for their looms, as they now do. "But now to return to my analysis of John's rooms. "Another thing which goes a great way towards giving them their agreeable air is the books in them. Some people are fond of treating books as others do children. One room in the house is selected, and every book driven into it and kept there. Yet nothing makes a room so home-like, so companionable, and gives it such an air of refinement, as the presence of books. They change the aspect of a parlor from that of a mere reception-room, where visitors perch for a transient call, and give it the air of a room where one feels like taking off one's things to stay. It gives the appearance of permanence and repose and quiet fellowship; and, next to pictures on the walls, the many-colored bindings and gildings of books are the most agreeable adornment of a room." "Then, Marianne," said Bob, "we have something to start with, at all events. There are my English Classics and English Poets, and my uniform editions of Scott and Thackeray and Macaulay and Prescott and Irving and Longfellow and Lowell and Hawthorne and Holmes and a host more. We really have something pretty there." "You are a lucky girl," I said, "to have so much secured. A girl brought up in a house full of books, always able to turn to this or that author and look for any passage or poem when she thinks of it, doesn't know what a blank a house without books might be." "Well," said Marianne, "mamma and I were counting over my treasures the other day. Do you know, I have one really fine old engraving, that Bob says is quite a genuine thing; and then there is that pencil-sketch that poor Schöne made for me the month before he died,--it is truly artistic." "And I have a couple of capital things of Landseer's," said Bob. "There's no danger that your rooms will not be pretty," said I, "now you are fairly on the right track." "But, papa," said Marianne, "I am troubled about one thing. My love of beauty runs into everything. I want pretty things for my table; and yet, as you say, servants are so careless, one cannot use such things freely without great waste." "For my part," said my wife, "I believe in best china, to be kept carefully on an upper shelf, and taken down for high-days and holidays; it may be a superstition, but I believe in it. It must never be taken out except when the mistress herself can see that it is safely cared for. My mother always washed her china herself; and it was a very pretty social ceremony, after tea was over, while she sat among us washing her pretty cups, and wiping them on a fine damask towel." "With all my heart," said I; "have your best china and venerate it,--it is one of the loveliest of domestic superstitions; only do not make it a bar to hospitality, and shrink from having a friend to tea with you, unless you feel equal to getting up to the high shelf where you keep it, getting it down, washing, and putting it up again. "But in serving a table, I say, as I said of a house, beauty is a necessity, and beauty is cheap. Because you cannot afford beauty in one form, it does not follow that you cannot have it in another. Because one cannot afford to keep up a perennial supply of delicate china and crystal, subject to the accidents of raw, untrained servants, it does not follow that the every-day table need present a sordid assortment of articles chosen simply for cheapness, while the whole capacity of the purse is given to the set forever locked away for state occasions. "A table-service all of simple white, of graceful forms, even though not of china, if arranged with care, with snowy, well-kept table-linen, clear glasses, and bright American plate in place of solid silver, may be made to look inviting; add a glass of flowers every day, and your table may look pretty: and it is far more important that it should look pretty for the family every day than for company once in two weeks." "I tell my girls," said my wife, "as the result of my experience, you may have your pretty china and your lovely fanciful articles for the table only so long as you can take all the care of them yourselves. As soon as you get tired of doing this, and put them into the hands of the trustiest servants, some good, well-meaning creature is sure to break her heart and your own and your very pet darling china pitcher all in one and the same minute, and then her frantic despair leaves you not even the relief of scolding." "I have become perfectly sure," said I "that there are spiteful little brownies, intent on seducing good women to sin, who mount guard over the special idols of the china closet. If you hear a crash, and a loud Irish wail from the inner depths, you never think of its being a yellow pie-plate, or that dreadful one-handled tureen that you have been wishing were broken these five years; no, indeed,--it is sure to be the lovely painted china bowl, wreathed with morning-glories and sweet-peas, or the engraved glass goblet, with quaint Old English initials. China sacrificed must be a great means of saintship to women. Pope, I think, puts it as the crowning grace of his perfect woman that she is "'Mistress of herself though china fall.'" "I ought to be a saint by this time, then," said mamma; "for in the course of my days I have lost so many idols by breakage, and peculiar accidents that seemed by a special fatality to befall my prettiest and most irreplaceable things, that in fact it has come to be a superstitious feeling now with which I regard anything particularly pretty of a breakable nature." "Well," said Marianne, "unless one has a great deal of money, it seems to me that the investment in these pretty fragilities is rather a poor one." "Yet," said I, "the principle of beauty is never so captivating as when it presides over the hour of daily meals. I would have the room where they are served one of the pleasantest and sunniest in the house. I would have its coloring cheerful, and there should be companionable pictures and engravings on the walls. Of all things, I dislike a room that seems to be kept, like a restaurant, merely to eat in. I like to see in a dining-room something that betokens a pleasant sitting-room at other hours. I like there some books, a comfortable sofa or lounge, and all that should make it cosy and inviting. The custom in some families, of adopting for the daily meals one of the two parlors which a city house furnishes, has often seemed to me a particularly happy one. You take your meals, then, in an agreeable place, surrounded by the little pleasant arrangements of your daily sitting-room; and after the meal, if the lady of the house does the honors of her own pretty china herself, the office may be a pleasant and social one. "But in regard to your table-service I have my advice at hand. Invest in pretty table-linen, in delicate napkins, have your vase of flowers, and be guided by the eye of taste in the choice and arrangement of even the every-day table articles, and have no ugly things when you can have pretty ones by taking a little thought. If you are sore tempted with lovely china and crystal, too fragile to last, too expensive to be renewed, turn away to a print-shop and comfort yourself by hanging around the walls of your dining-room beauty that will not break or fade, that will meet your eye from year to year, though plates, tumblers, and teasets successively vanish. There is my advice for you, Marianne." At the same time let me say, in parenthesis, that my wife, whose weakness is china, informed me that night, when we were by ourselves, that she was ordering secretly a teaset as a bridal gift for Marianne every cup of which was to be exquisitely painted with the wild flowers of America, from designs of her own,--a thing, by the by, that can now be very nicely executed in our country, as one may find by looking in at our friend Briggs's on School Street. "It will last her all her life," she said, "and always be such a pleasure to look at; and a pretty tea-table is such a pretty sight!" So spoke Mrs. Crowfield, "unweaned from china by a thousand falls." She spoke even with tears in her eyes. Verily these women are harps of a thousand strings! But to return to my subject. "Finally and lastly," I said, "in my analysis and explication of the agreeableness of those same parlors, comes the growing grace,--their _homeliness_. By 'homeliness' I mean not ugliness, as the word is apt to be used, but the air that is given to a room by being really at home in it. Not the most skillful arrangement can impart this charm. "It is said that a king of France once remarked, 'My son, you must seem to love your people.' "'Father, how shall I _seem_ to love them?' "'My son, you _must_ love them.' "So, to make rooms seem home-like, you must be at home in them. Human light and warmth are so wanting in some rooms, it is so evident that they are never used, that you can never be at ease there. In vain the housemaid is taught to wheel the sofa and turn chair toward chair; in vain it is attempted to imitate a negligent arrangement of the centre-table. "Books that have really been read and laid down, chairs that have really been moved here and there in the animation of social contact, have a sort of human vitality in them; and a room in which people really live and enjoy is as different from a shut-up apartment as a live woman from a wax image. "Even rooms furnished without taste often become charming from this one grace, that they seem to let you into the home life and home current. You seem to understand in a moment that you are taken into the family, and are moving in its inner circles, and not revolving at a distance in some outer court of the gentiles. "How many people do we call on from year to year and know no more of their feelings, habits, tastes, family ideas and ways, than if they lived in Kamtschatka! And why? Because the room which they call a front parlor is made expressly so that you never shall know. They sit in a back room,--work, talk, read, perhaps. After the servant has let you in and opened a crack of the shutters, and while you sit waiting for them to change their dress and come in, you speculate as to what they may be doing. From some distant region, the laugh of a child, the song of a canary-bird reaches you, and then a door claps hastily to. Do they love plants? Do they write letters, sew, embroider, crochet? Do they ever romp and frolic? What books do they read? Do they sketch or paint? Of all these possibilities the mute and muffled room says nothing. A sofa and six chairs, two ottomans fresh from the upholsterer's, a Brussels carpet, a centre-table with four gilt Books of Beauty on it, a mantel-clock from Paris, and two bronze vases,--all those tell you only in frigid tones, 'This is the best room,'--only that, and nothing more,--and soon _she_ trips in in her best clothes, and apologizes for keeping you waiting, asks how your mother is, and you remark that it is a pleasant day, and thus the acquaintance progresses from year to year. One hour in the back room, where the plants and canary-bird and children are, might have made you fast friends for life; but, little as it is, you care no more for them than for the gilt clock on the mantel. "And now, girls," said I, pulling a paper out of my pocket, "you must know that your father is getting to be famous by means of these 'House and Home Papers.' Here is a letter I have just received:-- "MOST EXCELLENT MR. CROWFIELD,--Your thoughts have lighted into our family circle and echoed from our fireside. We all feel the force of them, and are delighted with the felicity of your treatment of the topic you have chosen. You have taken hold of a subject that lies deep in our hearts, in a genial, temperate, and convincing spirit. All must acknowledge the power of your sentiments upon their imaginations; if they could only trust to them in actual life! There is the rub. "Omitting further upon these points, there is a special feature of your articles upon which we wish to address you. You seem as yet (we do not know, of course, what you may hereafter do) to speak only of homes whose conduct depends upon the help of servants. Now your principles apply, as some of us well conceive, to nearly all classes of society; yet most people, to take an impressive hint, must have their portraits drawn out more exactly. We therefore hope that you will give a reasonable share of your attention to us who do not employ servants, so that you may ease us of some of our burdens, which, in spite of common sense, we dare not throw off. For instance, we have company,--a friend from afar (perhaps wealthy), or a minister, or some other man of note. What do we do? Sit down and receive our visitor with all good will and the freedom of a home? No; we (the lady of the house) flutter about to clear up things, apologizing about this, that, and the other condition of unpreparedness, and, having settled the visitor in the parlor, set about marshaling the elements of a grand dinner or supper, such as no person but a gourmand wants to sit down to, when at home and comfortable; and in getting up this meal, clearing away and washing the dishes, we use up a good half of the time which our guest spends with us. We have spread ourselves, and shown him what we could do; but what a paltry, heart-sickening achievement! Now, good Mr. Crowfield, thou friend of the robbed and despairing, wilt thou not descend into our purgatorial circle, and tell the world what thou hast seen there of doleful remembrance? Tell us how we, who must do and desire to do our own work, can show forth in our homes a homely yet genial hospitality, and entertain our guests without making a fuss and hurlyburly, and seeming to be anxious for their sake about many things, and spending too much time getting meals, as if eating were the chief social pleasure. Won't you do this, Mr. Crowfield? "Yours beseechingly, "R. H. A." "That's a good letter," said Jenny. "To be sure it is," said I. "And shall you answer it, papa?" "In the very next 'Atlantic,' you may be sure I shall. The class that do their own work are the strongest, the most numerous, and, taking one thing with another, quite as well cultivated a class as any other. They are the anomaly of our country,--the distinctive feature of the new society that we are building up here; and, if we are to accomplish our national destiny, that class must increase rather than diminish. I shall certainly do my best to answer the very sensible and pregnant questions of that letter." Here Marianne shivered and drew up a shawl, and Jenny gaped; my wife folded up the garment in which she had set the last stitch, and the clock struck twelve. Bob gave a low whistle. "Who knew it was so late?" "We have talked the fire fairly out," said Jenny. VI THE LADY WHO DOES HER OWN WORK "My dear Chris," said my wife, "isn't it time to be writing the next 'House and Home Paper'?" I was lying back in my study-chair, with my heels luxuriously propped on an ottoman, reading for the two-hundredth time Hawthorne's "Mosses from an Old Manse," or his "Twice-Told Tales," I forget which,--I only know that these books constitute my cloud-land, where I love to sail away in dreamy quietude, forgetting the war, the price of coal and flour, the rates of exchange, and the rise and fall of gold. What do all these things matter, as seen from those enchanted gardens in Padua where the weird Rappaccini tends his enchanted plants, and his gorgeous daughter fills us with the light and magic of her presence, and saddens us with the shadowy allegoric mystery of her preternatural destiny? But my wife represents the positive forces of time, place, and number in our family, and, having also a chronological head, she knows the day of the month, and therefore gently reminded me that by inevitable dates the time drew near for preparing my--which is it, now, May or June number? "Well, my dear, you are right," I said, as by an exertion I came head-uppermost, and laid down the fascinating volume. "Let me see, what was I to write about?" "Why, you remember you were to answer that letter from the lady who does her own work." "Enough!" said I, seizing the pen with alacrity; "you have hit the exact phrase:-- "'The _lady_ who _does her own work_.'" * * * * * America is the only country where such a title is possible,--the only country where there is a class of women who may be described as _ladies_ who do their own work. By a lady we mean a woman of education, cultivation, and refinement, of liberal tastes and ideas, who, without any very material additions or changes, would be recognized as a lady in any circle of the Old World or the New. What I have said is, that the existence of such a class is a fact peculiar to American society, a clear, plain result of the new principles involved in the doctrine of universal equality. When the colonists first came to this country, of however mixed ingredients their ranks might have been composed, and however imbued with the spirit of feudal and aristocratic ideas, the discipline of the wilderness soon brought them to a democratic level; the gentleman felled the wood for his log-cabin side by side with the ploughman, and thews and sinews rose in the market. "A man was deemed honorable in proportion as he lifted his hand upon the high trees of the forest." So in the interior domestic circle. Mistress and maid, living in a log-cabin together, became companions, and sometimes the maid, as the more accomplished and stronger, took precedence of the mistress. It became natural and unavoidable that children should begin to work as early as they were capable of it. The result was a generation of intelligent people brought up to labor from necessity, but turning on the problem of labor the acuteness of a disciplined brain. The mistress, outdone in sinews and muscles by her maid, kept her superiority by skill and contrivance. If she could not lift a pail of water she could invent methods which made lifting the pail unnecessary; if she could not take a hundred steps without weariness, she could make twenty answer the purpose of a hundred. Slavery, it is true, was to some extent introduced into New England, but it never suited the genius of the people, never struck deep root, or spread so as to choke the good seed of self-helpfulness. Many were opposed to it from conscientious principle,--many from far-sighted thrift, and from a love of thoroughness and well-doing which despised the rude, unskilled work of barbarians. People, having once felt the thorough neatness and beauty of execution which came of free, educated, and thoughtful labor, could not tolerate the clumsiness of slavery. Thus it came to pass that for many years the rural population of New England, as a general rule, did their own work, both out doors and in. If there were a black man or black woman or bound girl, they were emphatically only the _helps_, following humbly the steps of master and mistress, and used by them as instruments of lightening certain portions of their toil. The master and mistress with their children were the head workers. Great merriment has been excited in the Old Country because years ago the first English travelers found that the class of persons by them denominated servants were in America denominated help or helpers. But the term was the very best exponent of the state of society. There were few servants in the European sense of the word; there was a society of educated workers, where all were practically equal, and where, if there was a deficiency in one family and an excess in another, a _helper_, not a servant, was hired. Mrs. Brown, who has six sons and no daughters, enters into agreement with Mrs. Jones, who has six daughters and no sons. She borrows a daughter, and pays her good wages to help in her domestic toil, and sends a son to help the labors of Mr. Jones. These two young people go into the families in which they are to be employed in all respects as equals and companions, and so the work of the community is equalized. Hence arose, and for many years continued, a state of society more nearly solving than any other ever did the problem of combining the highest culture of the mind with the highest culture of the muscles and the physical faculties. Then were to be seen families of daughters, handsome, strong females, rising each day to their indoor work with cheerful alertness,--one to sweep the room, another to make the fire, while a third prepared the breakfast for the father and brothers who were going out to manly labor; and they chatted meanwhile of books, studies, embroidery, discussed the last new poem, or some historical topic started by graver reading, or perhaps a rural ball that was to come off the next week. They spun with the book tied to the distaff; they wove; they did all manner of fine needlework; they made lace, painted flowers, and, in short, in the boundless consciousness of activity, invention, and perfect health, set themselves to any work they had ever read or thought of. A bride in those days was married with sheets and tablecloths of her own weaving, with counterpanes and toilet-covers wrought in divers embroidery by her own and her sisters' hands. The amount of fancy work done in our days by girls who have nothing else to do will not equal what was done by these, who performed besides, among them, the whole work of the family. For many years these habits of life characterized the majority of our rural towns. They still exist among a class respectable in numbers and position, though perhaps not as happy in perfect self-satisfaction and a conviction of the dignity and desirableness of its lot as in former days. Human nature is above all things--lazy. Every one confesses in the abstract that exertion which brings out all the powers of body and mind is the best thing for us all; but practically most people do all they can to get rid of it, and as a general rule nobody does much more than circumstances drive him to do. Even I would not write this article were not the publication-day hard on my heels. I should read Hawthorne and Emerson and Holmes, and dream in my armchair, and project in the clouds those lovely unwritten stories that curl and veer and change like mist-wreaths in the sun. So also, however dignified, however invigorating, however really desirable, are habits of life involving daily physical toil, there is a constant evil demon at every one's elbow, seducing him to evade it, or to bear its weight with sullen, discontented murmurs. I will venture to say that there are at least, to speak very moderately, a hundred houses where these humble lines will be read and discussed, where there are no servants except the ladies of the household. I will venture to say, also, that these households, many of them, are not inferior in the air of cultivation and refined elegance to many which are conducted by the ministration of domestics. I will venture to assert furthermore that these same ladies who live thus find quite as much time for reading, letter-writing, drawing, embroidery, and fancy work as the women of families otherwise arranged. I am quite certain that they would be found on an average to be in the enjoyment of better health, and more of that sense of capability and vitality which gives one confidence in one's ability to look into life and meet it with cheerful courage, than three quarters of the women who keep servants; and that, on the whole, their domestic establishment is regulated more exactly to their mind, their food prepared and served more to their taste. And yet, with all this, I will _not_ venture to assert that they are satisfied with this way of living, and that they would not change it forthwith if they could. They have a secret feeling all the while that they are being abused, that they are working harder than they ought to, and that women who live in their houses like boarders, who have only to speak and it is done, are the truly enviable ones. One after another of their associates, as opportunity offers and means increase, deserts the ranks, and commits her domestic affairs to the hands of hired servants. Self-respect takes the alarm. Is it altogether genteel to live as we do? To be sure, we are accustomed to it; we have it all systematized and arranged; the work of our own hands suits us better than any we can hire; in fact, when we do hire, we are discontented and uncomfortable, for who will do for us what we will do for ourselves? But when we have company! there's the rub, to get out all our best things and put them back,--to cook the meals and wash the dishes ingloriously,--and to make all appear as if we didn't do it, and had servants like other people. There, after all, is the rub. A want of hardy self-respect, an unwillingness to face with dignity the actual facts and necessities of our situation in life,--this, after all, is the worst and most dangerous feature of the case. It is the same sort of pride which makes Smilax think he must hire a waiter in white gloves, and get up a circuitous dinner party on English principles, to entertain a friend from England. Because the friend in England lives in such and such a style, he must make believe for a day that he lives so, too, when in fact it is a whirlwind in his domestic establishment equal to a removal or a fire, and threatens the total extinction of Mrs. Smilax. Now there are two principles of hospitality that people are very apt to overlook. One is, that their guests like to be made at home, and treated with confidence; and another is, that people are always interested in the details of a way of life that is new to them. The Englishman comes to America as weary of his old, easy, family-coach life as you can be of yours: he wants to see something new under the sun,--something American; and forthwith we all bestir ourselves to give him something as near as we can fancy exactly like what he is already tired of. So city people come to the country, not to sit in the best parlor and to see the nearest imitation of city life, but to lie on the haymow, to swing in the barn, to form intimacy with the pigs, chickens, and ducks, and to eat baked potatoes, exactly on the critical moment when they are done, from the oven of the cooking-stove,--and we remark, _en passant_, that nobody has ever truly eaten a baked potato unless he has seized it at that precise and fortunate moment. I fancy you now, my friends, whom I have in my eye. You are three happy women together. You are all so well that you know not how it feels to be sick. You are used to early rising, and would not lie in bed if you could. Long years of practice have made you familiar with the shortest, neatest, most expeditious method of doing every household office, so that really, for the greater part of the time in your house, there seems to a looker-on to be nothing to do. You rise in the morning and dispatch your husband, father, and brothers to the farm or wood-lot; you go sociably about chatting with each other, while you skim the milk, make the butter, turn the cheeses. The forenoon is long; it's ten to one that all the so-called morning work is over, and you have leisure for an hour's sewing or reading before it is time to start the dinner preparations. By two o'clock your housework is done, and you have the long afternoon for books, needlework, or drawing,--for perhaps there is among you one with a gift at her pencil. Perhaps one of you reads aloud while the others sew, and you manage in that way to keep up with a great deal of reading. I see on your bookshelves Prescott, Macaulay, Irving, besides the lighter fry of poems and novels, and, if I mistake not, the friendly covers of the "Atlantic." When you have company, you invite Mrs. Smith or Brown or Jones to tea: you have no trouble--they come early, with their knitting or sewing; your particular crony sits with you by your polished stove while you watch the baking of those light biscuits and tea rusks for which you are so famous, and Mrs. Somebodyelse chats with your sister, who is spreading the table with your best china in the best room. When tea is over, there is plenty of volunteering to help you wash your pretty India teacups, and get them back into the cupboard. There is no special fatigue or exertion in all this, though you have taken down the best things and put them back, because you have done all without anxiety or effort, among those who would do precisely the same if you were their visitors. But now comes down pretty Mrs. Simmons and her pretty daughter to spend a week with you, and forthwith you are troubled. Your youngest, Fanny, visited them in New York last fall, and tells you of their cook and chambermaid, and the servant in white gloves that waits on the table. You say in your soul, "What shall we do? they never can be contented to live as we do; how shall we manage?" And now you long for servants. This is the very time that you should know that Mrs. Simmons is tired to death of her fine establishment, and weighed down with the task of keeping the peace among her servants. She is a quiet soul, dearly loving her ease and hating strife; and yet last week she had five quarrels to settle between her invaluable cook and the other members of her staff, because invaluable cook, on the strength of knowing how to get up state dinners and to manage all sorts of mysteries which her mistress knows nothing about, asserts the usual right of spoiled favorites to insult all her neighbors with impunity, and rule with a rod of iron over the whole house. Anything that is not in the least like her own home and ways of living will be a blessed relief and change to Mrs. Simmons. Your clean, quiet house, your delicate cookery, your cheerful morning tasks, if you will let her follow you about, and sit and talk with you while you are at your work, will all seem a pleasant contrast to her own life. Of course, if it came to the case of offering to change lots in life, she would not do it; but very likely she _thinks_ she would, and sighs over and pities herself, and thinks sentimentally how fortunate you are, how snugly and securely you live, and wishes she were as untrammeled and independent as you. And she is more than half right; for, with her helpless habits, her utter ignorance of the simplest facts concerning the reciprocal relations of milk, eggs, butter, saleratus, soda, and yeast, she is completely the victim and slave of the person she pretends to rule. Only imagine some of the frequent scenes and rehearsals in her family. After many trials, she at last engages a seamstress who promises to prove a perfect treasure,--neat, dapper, nimble, skillful, and spirited. The very soul of Mrs. Simmons rejoices in heaven. Illusive bliss! The newcomer proves to be no favorite with Madam Cook, and the domestic fates evolve the catastrophe, as follows. First, low murmur of distant thunder in the kitchen; then a day or two of sulky silence, in which the atmosphere seems heavy with an approaching storm. At last comes the climax. The parlor door flies open during breakfast. Enter seamstress in tears, followed by Mrs. Cook, with a face swollen and red with wrath, who tersely introduces the subject-matter of the drama in a voice trembling with rage. "Would you be plased, ma'am, to suit yerself with another cook? Me week will be up next Tuesday, and I want to be going." "Why, Bridget, what's the matter?" "Matter enough, ma'am! I niver could live with them Cork girls in a house, nor I won't; them as likes the Cork girls is welcome for all me; but it's not for the likes of me to live with them, and she been in the kitchen a-upsettin' of me gravies with her flatirons and things." Here bursts in the seamstress with a whirlwind of denial, and the altercation wages fast and furious, and poor, little, delicate Mrs. Simmons stands like a kitten in a thunderstorm in the midst of a regular Irish row. Cook, of course, is sure of her victory. She knows that a great dinner is to come off Wednesday, and that her mistress has not the smallest idea how to manage it, and that therefore, whatever happens, she must be conciliated. Swelling with secret indignation at the tyrant, poor Mrs. Simmons dismisses her seamstress with longing looks. She suited her mistress exactly, but she didn't suit cook! Now, if Mrs. Simmons had been brought up in early life with the experience that you have, she would be mistress in her own house. She would quietly say to Madam Cook, "If my family arrangements do not suit you, you can leave. I can see to the dinner myself." And she could do it. Her well-trained muscles would not break down under a little extra work; her skill, adroitness, and perfect familiarity with everything that is to be done would enable her at once to make cooks of any bright girls of good capacity who might still be in her establishment; and, above all, she would feel herself mistress in her own house. This is what would come of an experience in doing her own work as you do. She who can at once put her own trained hand to the machine in any spot where a hand is needed never comes to be the slave of a coarse, vulgar Irishwoman. So, also, in forming a judgment of what is to be expected of servants in a given time, and what ought to be expected of a given amount of provisions, poor Mrs. Simmons is absolutely at sea. If even for one six months in her life she had been a practical cook, and had really had the charge of the larder, she would not now be haunted, as she constantly is, by an indefinite apprehension of an immense wastefulness, perhaps of the disappearance of provisions through secret channels of relationship and favoritism. She certainly could not be made to believe in the absolute necessity of so many pounds of sugar, quarts of milk, and dozens of eggs, not to mention spices and wine, as are daily required for the accomplishment of Madam Cook's purposes. But though now she does suspect and apprehend, she cannot speak with certainty. She cannot say, "_I_ have made these things. I know exactly what they require. I have done this and that myself, and know it can be done, and done well, in a certain time." It is said that women who have been accustomed to doing their own work become hard mistresses. They are certainly more sure of the ground they stand on,--they are less open to imposition,--they can speak and act in their own houses more as those "having authority," and therefore are less afraid to exact what is justly their due, and less willing to endure impertinence and unfaithfulness. Their general error lies in expecting that any servant ever will do as well for them as they will do for themselves, and that an untrained, undisciplined human being ever _can_ do housework, or any other work, with the neatness and perfection that a person of trained intelligence can. It has been remarked in our armies that the men of cultivation, though bred in delicate and refined spheres, can bear up under the hardships of camp-life better and longer than rough laborers. The reason is, that an educated mind knows how to use and save its body, to work it and spare it, as an uneducated mind cannot; and so the college-bred youth brings himself safely through fatigues which kill the unreflective laborer. Cultivated, intelligent women, who are brought up to do the work of their own families, are labor-saving institutions. They make the head save the wear of the muscles. By forethought, contrivance, system, and arrangement, they lessen the amount to be done, and do it with less expense of time and strength than others. The old New England motto, _Get your work done up in the forenoon_, applied to an amount of work which would keep a common Irish servant toiling from daylight to sunset. A lady living in one of our obscure New England towns, where there were no servants to be hired, at last by sending to a distant city succeeded in procuring a raw Irish maid of all work, a creature of immense bone and muscle, but of heavy, unawakened brain. In one fortnight she established such a reign of Chaos and old Night in the kitchen and through the house that her mistress, a delicate woman, incumbered with the care of young children, began seriously to think that she made more work each day than she performed, and dismissed her. What was now to be done? Fortunately, the daughter of a neighboring farmer was going to be married in six months, and wanted a little ready money for her trousseau. The lady was informed that Miss So-and-so would come to her, not as a servant, but as hired "help." She was fain to accept any help with gladness. Forthwith came into the family circle a tall, well-dressed young person, grave, unobtrusive, self-respecting, yet not in the least presuming, who sat at the family table and observed all its decorums with the modest self-possession of a lady. The newcomer took a survey of the labors of a family of ten members, including four or five young children, and, looking, seemed at once to throw them into system, matured her plans, arranged her hours of washing, ironing, baking, cleaning, rose early, moved deftly, and in a single day the slatternly and littered kitchen assumed that neat, orderly appearance that so often strikes one in New England farmhouses. The work seemed to be all gone. Everything was nicely washed, brightened, put in place, and stayed in place: the floors, when cleaned, remained clean; the work was always done, and not doing; and every afternoon the young lady sat neatly dressed in her own apartment, either writing letters to her betrothed, or sewing on her bridal outfit. Such is the result of employing those who have been brought up to do their own work. That tall, fine-looking girl, for aught we know, may yet be mistress of a fine house on Fifth Avenue; and, if she is, she will, we fear, prove rather an exacting mistress to Irish Biddy and Bridget; but she will never be threatened by her cook and chambermaid, after the first one or two have tried the experiment. * * * * * Having written thus far on my article I laid it aside till evening, when, as usual, I was saluted by the inquiry, "Has papa been writing anything to-day?" and then followed loud petitions to hear it; and so I read as far, reader, as you have. "Well, papa," said Jenny, "what are you meaning to make out there? Do you really think it would be best for us all to try to go back to that old style of living you describe? After all, you have shown only the dark side of an establishment with servants, and the bright side of the other way of living. Mamma does not have such trouble with her servants; matters have always gone smoothly in our family; and, if we are not such wonderful girls as those you describe, yet we may make pretty good housekeepers on the modern system, after all." "You don't know all the troubles your mamma has had in your day," said my wife. "I have often, in the course of my family history, seen the day when I have heartily wished for the strength and ability to manage my household matters as my grandmother of notable memory managed hers. But I fear that those remarkable women of the olden times are like the ancient painted glass,--the art of making them is lost; my mother was less than her mother, and I am less than my mother." "And Marianne and I come out entirely at the little end of the horn," said Jenny, laughing; "yet I wash the breakfast cups and dust the parlors, and have always fancied myself a notable housekeeper." "It is just as I told you," I said. "Human nature is always the same. Nobody ever is or does more than circumstances force him to be and do. Those remarkable women of old were made by circumstances. There were, comparatively speaking, no servants to be had, and so children were trained to habits of industry and mechanical adroitness from the cradle, and every household process was reduced to the very minimum of labor. Every step required in a process was counted, every movement calculated; and she who took ten steps, when one would do, lost her reputation for 'faculty.' Certainly such an early drill was of use in developing the health and the bodily powers, as well as in giving precision to the practical mental faculties. All household economies were arranged with equal niceness in those thoughtful minds. A trained housekeeper knew just how many sticks of hickory of a certain size were required to heat her oven, and how many of each different kind of wood. She knew by a sort of intuition just what kind of food would yield the most palatable nutriment with the least outlay of accessories in cooking. She knew to a minute the time when each article must go into and be withdrawn from her oven; and, if she could only lie in her chamber and direct, she could guide an intelligent child through the processes with mathematical certainty. It is impossible, however, that anything but early training and long experience can produce these results, and it is earnestly to be wished that the grandmothers of New England had only written down their experiences for our children; they would have been a mine of maxims and traditions, better than any other traditions of the elders which we know of." "One thing I know," said Marianne, "and that is, I wish I had been brought up so, and knew all that I should, and had all the strength and adroitness that those women had. I should not dread to begin housekeeping, as I now do. I should feel myself independent. I should feel that I knew how to direct my servants, and what it was reasonable and proper to expect of them; and then, as you say, I shouldn't be dependent on all their whims and caprices of temper. I dread those household storms, of all things." Silently pondering these anxieties of the young expectant housekeeper, I resumed my pen, and concluded my paper as follows:-- * * * * * In this country, our democratic institutions have removed the superincumbent pressure which in the Old World confines the servants to a regular orbit. They come here feeling that this is somehow a land of liberty, and with very dim and confused notions of what liberty is. They are for the most part the raw, untrained Irish peasantry, and the wonder is, that, with all the unreasoning heats and prejudices of the Celtic blood, all the necessary ignorance and rawness, there should be the measure of comfort and success there is in our domestic arrangements. But, so long as things are so, there will be constant changes and interruptions in every domestic establishment, and constantly recurring interregnums when the mistress must put her own hand to the work, whether the hand be a trained or an untrained one. As matters now are, the young housekeeper takes life at the hardest. She has very little strength,--no experience to teach her how to save her strength. She knows nothing experimentally of the simplest processes necessary to keep her family comfortably fed and clothed; and she has a way of looking at all these things which makes them particularly hard and distasteful to her. She does not escape being obliged to do housework at intervals, but she does it in a weak, blundering, confused way, that makes it twice as hard and disagreeable as it need be. Now what I have to say is, that, if every young woman learned to do housework and cultivated her practical faculties in early life, she would, in the first place, be much more likely to keep her servants, and, in the second place, if she lost them temporarily, would avoid all that wear and tear of the nervous system which comes from constant ill-success in those departments on which family health and temper mainly depend. This is one of the peculiarities of our American life which require a peculiar training. Why not face it sensibly? The second thing I have to say is, that our land is now full of motorpathic institutions to which women are sent at great expense to have hired operators stretch and exercise their inactive muscles. They lie for hours to have their feet twigged, their arms flexed, and all the different muscles of the body worked for them, because they are so flaccid and torpid that the powers of life do not go on. Would it not be quite as cheerful and less expensive a process if young girls from early life developed the muscles in sweeping, dusting, ironing, rubbing furniture, and all the multiplied domestic processes which our grandmothers knew of? A woman who did all these, and diversified the intervals with spinning on the great and little wheel, never came to need the gymnastics of Dio Lewis or of the Swedish motorpathist, which really are a necessity now. Does it not seem poor economy to pay servants for letting our muscles grow feeble, and then to pay operators to exercise them for us? I will venture to say that our grandmothers in a week went over every movement that any gymnast has invented, and went over them to some productive purpose, too. Lastly, my paper will not have been in vain if those ladies who have learned and practice the invaluable accomplishment of doing their own work will know their own happiness and dignity, and properly value their great acquisition, even though it may have been forced upon them by circumstances. VII WHAT CAN BE GOT IN AMERICA While I was preparing my article for the "Atlantic," our friend Bob Stephens burst in upon us, in some considerable heat, with a newspaper in his hand. "Well, girls, your time is come now! You women have been preaching heroism and sacrifice to us,--'so splendid to go forth and suffer and die for our country,'--and now comes the test of feminine patriotism." "Why, what's the matter now?" said Jenny, running eagerly to look over his shoulder at the paper. "No more foreign goods," said he, waving it aloft,--"no more gold shipped to Europe for silks, laces, jewels, kid gloves, and what not. Here it is,--great movement, headed by senators' and generals' wives, Mrs. General Butler, Mrs. John P. Hale, Mrs. Henry Wilson, and so on, a long string of them, to buy no more imported articles during the war." "But I don't see how it _can_ be done," said Jenny. "Why," said I, "do you suppose that 'nothing to wear' is made in America?" "But, dear Mr. Crowfield," said Miss Featherstone, a nice girl, who was just then one of our family circle, "there is not, positively, much that is really fit to use or wear made in America,--is there now? Just think: how is Marianne to furnish her house here without French papers and English carpets?--those American papers are so very ordinary, and, as to American carpets, everybody knows their colors don't hold; and then, as to dress, a lady must have gloves, you know,--and everybody knows no such things are made in America as gloves." "I think," I said, "that I have heard of certain fair ladies wishing that they were men, that they might show with what alacrity they would sacrifice everything on the altar of their country: life and limb would be nothing; they would glory in wounds and bruises, they would enjoy losing a right arm, they wouldn't mind limping about on a lame leg the rest of their lives, if they were John or Peter, if only they might serve their dear country." "Yes," said Bob, "that's female patriotism! Girls are always ready to jump off from precipices, or throw themselves into abysses, but as to wearing an unfashionable hat or thread gloves, that they can't do,--not even for their dear country. No matter whether there's any money left to pay for the war or not, the dear souls must have twenty yards of silk in a dress,--it's the fashion, you know." "Now, isn't he too bad?" said Marianne. "As if we'd ever been asked to make these sacrifices and refused! I think I have seen women ready to give up dress and fashion and everything else for a good cause." "For that matter," said I, "the history of all wars has shown women ready to sacrifice what is most intimately feminine in times of peril to their country. The women of Carthage not only gave up their jewels in the siege of their city, but, in the last extremity, cut off their hair for bowstrings. The women of Hungary and Poland, in their country's need, sold their jewels and plate and wore ornaments of iron and lead. In the time of our own Revolution, our women dressed in plain homespun and drank herb-tea,--and certainly nothing is more feminine than a cup of tea. And in this very struggle, the women of the Southern States have cut up their carpets for blankets, have borne the most humiliating retrenchments and privations of all kinds without a murmur. So let us exonerate the female sex of want of patriotism, at any rate." "Certainly," said my wife; "and if our Northern women have not retrenched and made sacrifices, it has been because it has not been impressed on them that there is any particular call for it. Everything has seemed to be so prosperous and plentiful in the Northern States, money has been so abundant and easy to come by, that it has really been difficult to realize that a dreadful and destructive war was raging. Only occasionally, after a great battle, when the lists of the killed and wounded have been sent through the country, have we felt that we were making a sacrifice. The women who have spent such sums for laces and jewels and silks have not had it set clearly before them why they should not do so. The money has been placed freely in their hands, and the temptation before their eyes." "Yes," said Jenny, "I am quite sure that there are hundreds who have been buying foreign goods who would not do it if they could see any connection between their not doing it and the salvation of the country; but when I go to buy a pair of gloves, I naturally want the best pair I can find, the pair that will last the longest and look the best, and these always happen to be French gloves." "Then," said Miss Featherstone, "I never could clearly see why people should confine their patronage and encouragement to works of their own country. I'm sure the poor manufacturers of England have shown the very noblest spirit with relation to our cause, and so have the silk weavers and artisans of France,--at least, so I have heard; why should we not give them a fair share of encouragement, particularly when they make things that we are not in circumstances to make, have not the means to make?" "Those are certainly sensible questions," I replied, "and ought to meet a fair answer, and I should say that, were our country in a fair ordinary state of prosperity, there would be no reason why our wealth should not flow out for the encouragement of well-directed industry in any part of the world; from this point of view we might look on the whole world as our country, and cheerfully assist in developing its wealth and resources. But our country is now in the situation of a private family whose means are absorbed by an expensive sickness, involving the life of its head: just now it is all we can do to keep the family together; all our means are swallowed up by our own domestic wants; we have nothing to give for the encouragement of other families, we must exist ourselves; we must get through this crisis and hold our own, and, that we may do it, all the family expenses must be kept within ourselves as far as possible. If we drain off all the gold of the country to send to Europe to encourage her worthy artisans, we produce high prices and distress among equally worthy ones at home, and we lessen the amount of our resources for maintaining the great struggle for national existence. The same amount of money which we pay for foreign luxuries, if passed into the hands of our own manufacturers and producers, becomes available for the increasing expenses of the war." "But, papa," said Jenny, "I understood that a great part of our governmental income was derived from the duties on foreign goods, and so I inferred that the more foreign goods were imported the better it would be." "Well, suppose," said I, "that for every hundred thousand dollars we send out of the country we pay the government ten thousand; that is about what our gain as a nation would be: we send our gold abroad in a great stream, and give our government a little driblet." "Well, but," said Miss Featherstone, "what can be got in America? Hardly anything, I believe, except common calicoes." "Begging your pardon, my dear lady," said I, "there is where you and multitudes of others are greatly mistaken. Your partiality for foreign things has kept you ignorant of what you have at home. Now I am not blaming the love of foreign things: it is not peculiar to us Americans; all nations have it. It is a part of the poetry of our nature to love what comes from afar, and reminds us of lands distant and different from our own. The English belles seek after French laces; the French beauty enumerates English laces among her rarities; and the French dandy piques himself upon an English tailor. We Americans are great travelers, and few people travel, I fancy, with more real enjoyment than we; our domestic establishments, as compared with those of the Old World, are less cumbrous and stately, and so our money is commonly in hand as pocket-money, to be spent freely and gayly in our tours abroad. "We have such bright and pleasant times in every country that we conceive a kindliness for its belongings. To send to Paris for our dresses and our shoes and our gloves may not be a mere bit of foppery, but a reminder of the bright, pleasant hours we have spent in that city of boulevards and fountains. Hence it comes, in a way not very blamable, that many people have been so engrossed with what can be got from abroad that they have neglected to inquire what can be found at home: they have supposed, of course, that to get a decent watch they must send to Geneva or to London; that to get thoroughly good carpets they must have the English manufacture; that a really tasteful wall-paper could be found only in Paris; and that flannels and broadcloths could come only from France, Great Britain, or Germany." "Well, isn't it so?" said Miss Featherstone. "I certainly have always thought so; I never heard of American watches, I'm sure." "Then," said I, "I'm sure you can't have read an article that you should have read on the Waltham watches, written by our friend George W. Curtis, in the 'Atlantic' for January of last year. I must refer you to that to learn that we make in America watches superior to those of Switzerland or England, bringing into the service machinery and modes of workmanship unequaled for delicacy and precision; as I said before, you must get the article and read it, and, if some sunny day you could make a trip to Waltham and see the establishment, it would greatly assist your comprehension." "Then, as to men's clothing," said Bob, "I know to my entire satisfaction that many of the most popular cloths for men's wear are actually American fabrics baptized with French and English names to make them sell." "Which shows," said I, "the use of a general community movement to employ American goods. It will change the fashion. The demand will create the supply. When the leaders of fashion are inquiring for American instead of French and English fabrics, they will be surprised to find what nice American articles there are. The work of our own hands will no more be forced to skulk into the market under French and English names, and we shall see, what is really true, that an American gentleman need not look beyond his own country for a wardrobe befitting him. I am positive that we need not seek broadcloth or other woolen goods from foreign lands,--that _better_ hats are made in America than in Europe, and better boots and shoes; and I should be glad to send an American gentleman to the World's Fair dressed from top to toe in American manufactures, with an American watch in his pocket, and see if he would suffer in comparison with the gentlemen of any other country." "Then, as to house-furnishing," began my wife, "American carpets are getting to be every way equal to the English." "Yes," said I, "and, what is more, the Brussels carpets of England are woven on looms invented by an American, and bought of him. Our countryman, Bigelow, went to England to study carpet-weaving in the English looms, supposing that all arts were generously open for the instruction of learners. He was denied the opportunity of studying the machinery and watching the processes by a shortsighted jealousy. He immediately sat down with a yard of carpeting, and, patiently unraveling it thread by thread, combined and calculated till he invented the machinery on which the best carpets of the Old and the New World are woven. No pains which such ingenuity and energy can render effective are spared to make our fabrics equal those of the British market, and we need only to be disabused of the old prejudice, and to keep up with the movement of our own country, and find out our own resources. The fact is, every year improves our fabrics. Our mechanics, our manufacturers, are working with an energy, a zeal, and a skill that carry things forward faster than anybody dreams of; and nobody can predicate the character of American articles in any department now by their character even five years ago." "Well, as to wall-papers," said Miss Featherstone, "there you must confess the French are and must be unequaled." "I do not confess any such thing," said I hardily. "I grant you that, in that department of paper-hangings which exhibits floral decoration, the French designs and execution are, and must be for some time to come, far ahead of all the world: their drawing of flowers, vines, and foliage has the accuracy of botanical studies and the grace of finished works of art, and we cannot as yet pretend in America to do anything equal to it. But for satin finish, and for a variety of exquisite tints of plain colors, American papers equal any in the world: our gilt papers even surpass in the heaviness and polish of the gilding those of foreign countries; and we have also gorgeous velvets. All I have to say is, let people who are furnishing houses inquire for articles of American manufacture, and they will be surprised at what they will see. We need go no farther than our Cambridge glassworks to see that the most dainty devices of cut-glass, crystal, ground and engraved glass of every color and pattern, may be had of American workmanship, every way equal to the best European make, and for half the price. And American painting on china is so well executed, both in Boston and New York, that deficiencies in the finest French or English sets can be made up in a style not distinguishable from the original, as one may easily see by calling on our worthy next neighbor, Briggs, who holds the opposite corner to our 'Atlantic Monthly.' No porcelain, it is true, is yet made in America, these decorative arts being exercised on articles imported from Europe. Our tables must, therefore, perforce, be largely indebted to foreign lands for years to come. Exclusive of this item, however, I believe it would require very little self-denial to paper, carpet, and furnish a house entirely from the manufactures of America. I cannot help saying one word here in favor of the cabinet-makers of Boston. There is so much severity of taste, such a style and manner about the best-made Boston furniture, as raises it really quite into the region of the fine arts. Our artisans have studied foreign models with judicious eyes, and so transferred to our country the spirit of what is best worth imitating that one has no need to import furniture from Europe." "Well," said Miss Featherstone, "there is one point you cannot make out,--gloves; certainly the French have the monopoly of that article." "I am not going to ruin my cause by asserting too much," said I. "I haven't been with nicely dressed women so many years not to speak with proper respect of Alexander's gloves; and I confess honestly that to forego them must be a fair, square sacrifice to patriotism. But then, on the other hand, it is nevertheless true that gloves have long been made in America and surreptitiously brought into market as French. I have lately heard that very nice kid gloves are made at Watertown and in Philadelphia. I have only heard of them and not seen. A loud demand might bring forth an unexpected supply from these and other sources. If the women of America were bent on having gloves made in their own country, how long would it be before apparatus and factories would spring into being? Look at the hoop-skirt factories; women wanted hoop-skirts,--would have them or die,--and forthwith factories arose, and hoop-skirts became as the dust of the earth for abundance." "Yes," said Miss Featherstone, "and, to say the truth, the American hoop-skirts are the only ones fit to wear. When we were living on the Champs Élysées, I remember we searched high and low for something like them, and finally had to send home to America for some." "Well," said I, "that shows what I said. Let there be only a hearty call for an article and it will come. These spirits of the vasty deep are not so very far off, after all, as we may imagine, and women's unions and leagues will lead to inquiries and demands which will as infallibly bring supplies as a vacuum will create a draught of air." "But, at least, there are no ribbons made in America," said Miss Featherstone. "Pardon, my lady, there is a ribbon factory now in operation in Boston, and ribbons of every color are made in New York; there is also in the vicinity of Boston a factory which makes Roman scarfs. This shows that the faculty of weaving ribbons is not wanting to us Americans, and a zealous patronage would increase the supply. "Then, as for a thousand and one little feminine needs, I believe our manufacturers can supply them. The Portsmouth Steam Company makes white spool-cotton equal to any in England, and colored spool-cotton, of every shade and variety, such as is not made either in England or France. Pins are well made in America; so are hooks and eyes, and a variety of buttons. Straw bonnets of American manufacture are also extensively in market, and quite as pretty ones as the double-priced ones which are imported. "As to silks and satins, I am not going to pretend that they are to be found here. It is true, there are silk manufactories, like that of the Cheneys in Connecticut, where very pretty foulard dress-silks are made, together with sewing-silk enough to supply a large demand. Enough has been done to show that silks might be made in America; but at present, as compared with Europe, we claim neither silks nor thread laces among our manufactures. "But what then? These are not necessaries of life. Ladies can be very tastefully dressed in other fabrics besides silks. There are many pretty American dress-goods which the leaders of fashion might make fashionable, and certainly no leader of fashion could wish to dress for a nobler object than to aid her country in deadly peril. "It is not a life-pledge, not a total abstinence, that is asked,--only a temporary expedient to meet a stringent crisis. We only ask a preference for American goods where they can be found. Surely, women whose exertions in Sanitary Fairs have created an era in the history of the world will not shrink from so small a sacrifice for so obvious a good. "Here is something in which every individual woman can help. Every woman who goes into a shop and asks for American goods renders an appreciable aid to our cause. She expresses her opinion and her patriotism, and her voice forms a part of that demand which shall arouse and develop the resources of her country. We shall learn to know our own country. We shall learn to respect our own powers, and every branch of useful labor will spring and flourish under our well-directed efforts. We shall come out of our great contest, not bedraggled, ragged, and poverty-stricken, but developed, instructed, and rich. Then will we gladly join with other nations in the free interchange of manufactures, and gratify our eye and taste with what is foreign, while we can in turn send abroad our own productions in equal ratio." "Upon my word," said Miss Featherstone, "I should think it was the Fourth of July; but I yield the point. I am convinced; and henceforth you will see me among the most stringent of the leaguers." "Right!" said I. And, fair lady reader, let me hope you will say the same. You can do something for your country,--it lies right in your hand. Go to the shops, determined on supplying your family and yourself with American goods. Insist on having them; raise the question of origin over every article shown to you. In the Revolutionary times, some of the leading matrons of New England gave parties where the ladies were dressed in homespun and drank sage tea. Fashion makes all things beautiful, and you, my charming and accomplished friend, can create beauty by creating fashion. What makes the beauty of half the Cashmere shawls? Not anything in the shawls themselves, for they often look coarse and dingy and barbarous. It is the association with style and fashion. Fair lady, give style and fashion to the products of your own country,--resolve that the money in your hand shall go to your brave brothers, to your co-Americans, now straining every nerve to uphold the nation and cause it to stand high in the earth. What are you without your country? As Americans you can hope for no rank but the rank of your native land, no badge of nobility but her beautiful stars. It rests with this conflict to decide whether those stars shall be badges of nobility to you and your children in all lands. Women of America, your country expects every woman to do her duty! VIII ECONOMY "The fact is," said Jenny, as she twirled a little hat on her hand, which she had been making over, with nobody knows what of bows and pompons, and other matters for which the women have curious names,--"the fact is, American women and girls must learn to economize; it isn't merely restricting one's self to American goods, it is general economy, that is required. Now here's this hat,--costs me only three dollars, all told; and Sophie Page bought an English one this morning at Madam Meyer's for which she gave fifteen. And I really don't think hers has more of an air than mine. I made this over, you see, with things I had in the house, bought nothing but the ribbon, and paid for altering and pressing, and there you see what a stylish hat I have!" "Lovely! admirable!" said Miss Featherstone. "Upon my word, Jenny, you ought to marry a poor parson; you would be quite thrown away upon a rich man." "Let me see," said I. "I want to admire intelligently. That isn't the hat you were wearing yesterday?" "Oh no, papa! This is just done. The one I wore yesterday was my waterfall-hat, with the green feather; this, you see, is an oriole." "A what?" "An oriole. Papa, how can you expect to learn about these things?" "And that plain little black one, with the stiff crop of scarlet feathers sticking straight up?" "That's my jockey, papa, with a plume _en militaire_." "And did the waterfall and the jockey cost anything?" "They were very, very cheap, papa, all things considered. Miss Featherstone will remember that the waterfall was a great bargain, and I had the feather from last year; and as to the jockey, that was made out of my last year's white one, dyed over. You know, papa, I always take care of my things, and they last from year to year." "I do assure you, Mr. Crowfield," said Miss Featherstone, "I never saw such little economists as your daughters; it is perfectly wonderful what they contrive to dress on. How they manage to do it I'm sure I can't see. I never could, I'm convinced." "Yes," said Jenny, "I've bought but just one new hat. I only wish you could sit in church where we do, and see those Miss Fielders. Marianne and I have counted six new hats apiece of those girls',--_new_, you know, just out of the milliner's shop; and last Sunday they came out in such lovely puffed tulle bonnets! Weren't they lovely, Marianne? And next Sunday, I don't doubt, there'll be something else." "Yes," said Miss Featherstone,--"their father, they say, has made a million dollars lately on government contracts." "For my part," said Jenny, "I think such extravagance, at such a time as this, is shameful." "Do you know," said I, "that I'm quite sure the Misses Fielder think they are practicing rigorous economy?" "Papa! Now there you are with your paradoxes! How can you say so?" "I shouldn't be afraid to bet a pair of gloves, now," said I, "that Miss Fielder thinks herself half ready for translation, because she has bought only six new hats and a tulle bonnet so far in the season. If it were not for her dear bleeding country, she would have had thirty-six, like the Misses Sibthorpe. If we were admitted to the secret councils of the Fielders, doubtless we should perceive what temptations they daily resist; how perfectly rubbishy and dreadful they suffer themselves to be, because they feel it important now, in this crisis, to practice economy; how they abuse the Sibthorpes, who have a new hat every time they drive out, and never think of wearing one more than two or three times; how virtuous and self-denying they feel when they think of the puffed tulle, for which they only gave eighteen dollars, when Madame Caradori showed them those lovely ones, like the Misses Sibthorpe's, for forty-five; and how they go home descanting on virgin simplicity, and resolving that they will not allow themselves to be swept into the vortex of extravagance, whatever other people may do." "Do you know," said Miss Featherstone, "I believe your papa is right? I was calling on the oldest Miss Fielder the other day, and she told me that she positively felt ashamed to go looking as she did, but that she really did feel the necessity of economy. 'Perhaps we might afford to spend more than some others,' she said; 'but it's so much better to give the money to the Sanitary Commission!'" "Furthermore," said I, "I am going to put forth another paradox, and say that very likely there are some people looking on my girls, and commenting on them for extravagance in having three hats, even though made over, and contrived from last year's stock." "They can't know anything about it, then," said Jenny decisively; "for, certainly, nobody can be decent and invest less in millinery than Marianne and I do." "When I was a young lady," said my wife, "a well-dressed girl got her a new bonnet in the spring, and another in the fall; that was the extent of her purchases in this line. A second-best bonnet, left of last year, did duty to relieve and preserve the best one. My father was accounted well-to-do, but I had no more, and wanted no more. I also bought myself, every spring, two pair of gloves, a dark and a light pair, and wore them through the summer, and another two through the winter; one or two pair of white kids, carefully cleaned, carried me through all my parties. Hats had not been heard of, and the great necessity which requires two or three new ones every spring and fall had not arisen. Yet I was reckoned a well-appearing girl, who dressed liberally. Now, a young lady who has a waterfall-hat, an oriole-hat, and a jockey must still be troubled with anxious cares for her spring and fall and summer and winter bonnets,--all the variety will not take the place of them. Gloves are bought by the dozen; and as to dresses, there seems to be no limit to the quantity of material and trimming that may be expended upon them. When I was a young lady, seventy-five dollars a year was considered by careful parents a liberal allowance for a daughter's wardrobe. I had a hundred, and was reckoned rich; and I sometimes used a part to make up the deficiencies in the allowance of Sarah Evans, my particular friend, whose father gave her only fifty. We all thought that a very scant allowance; yet she generally made a very pretty and genteel appearance, with the help of occasional presents from friends." "How could a girl dress for fifty dollars?" said Marianne. "She could get a white muslin and a white cambric, which, with different sortings of ribbons, served her for all dress occasions. A silk, in those days, took only ten yards in the making, and one dark silk was considered a reasonable allowance to a lady's wardrobe. Once made, it stood for something,--always worn carefully, it lasted for years. One or two calico morning-dresses, and a merino for winter wear, completed the list. Then, as to collars, capes, cuffs, etc., we all did our own embroidering, and very pretty things we wore, too. Girls looked as prettily then as they do now, when four or five hundred dollars a year is insufficient to clothe them." "But, mamma, you know our allowance isn't anything like that,--it is quite a slender one, though not so small as yours was," said Marianne. "Don't you think the customs of society make a difference? Do you think, as things are, we could go back and dress for the sum you did?" "You cannot," said my wife, "without a greater sacrifice of feeling than I wish to impose on you. Still, though I don't see how to help it, I cannot but think that the requirements of fashion are becoming needlessly extravagant, particularly in regard to the dress of women. It seems to me, it is making the support of families so burdensome that young men are discouraged from marriage. A young man, in a moderately good business, might cheerfully undertake the world with a wife who could make herself pretty and attractive for seventy-five dollars a year, when he might sigh in vain for one who positively could not get through, and be decent, on four hundred. Women, too, are getting to be so attached to the trappings and accessories of life that they cannot think of marriage without an amount of fortune which few young men possess." "You are talking in very low numbers about the dress of women," said Miss Featherstone. "I do assure you that it is the easiest thing in the world for a girl to make away with a thousand dollars a year, and not have so much to show for it, either, as Marianne and Jenny." "To be sure," said I. "Only establish certain formulas of expectation, and it is the easiest thing in the world. For instance, in your mother's day girls talked of a pair of gloves,--now they talk of a pack; then it was a bonnet summer and winter,--now it is a bonnet spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and hats like monthly roses,--a new blossom every few weeks." "And then," said my wife, "every device of the toilet is immediately taken up and varied and improved on, so as to impose an almost monthly necessity for novelty. The jackets of May are outshone by the jackets of June; the buttons of June are antiquated in July; the trimmings of July are _passées_ by September; side-combs, back-combs, puffs, rats, and all sorts of such matters, are in a distracted race of improvement; every article of feminine toilet is on the move towards perfection. It seems to me that an infinity of money must be spent in these trifles by those who make the least pretension to keep in the fashion." "Well, papa," said Jenny, "after all, it's just the way things always have been since the world began. You know the Bible says, 'Can a maid forget her ornaments?' It's clear she can't. You see, it's a law of nature; and you remember all that long chapter in the Bible that we had read in church last Sunday about the curls and veils and tinkling ornaments and crimping-pins, and all that, of those wicked daughters of Zion in old times. Women always have been too much given to dress, and they always will be." "The thing is," said Marianne, "how can any woman, I, for example, know what is too much or too little? In mamma's day, it seems, a girl could keep her place in society, by hard economy, and spend only fifty dollars a year on her dress. Mamma found a hundred dollars ample. I have more than that, and find myself quite straitened to keep myself looking well. I don't want to live for dress, to give all my time and thoughts to it; I don't wish to be extravagant: and yet I wish to be lady-like--it annoys and makes me unhappy not to be fresh and neat and nice, shabbiness and seediness are my aversion. I don't see where the fault is. Can one individual resist the whole current of society? It certainly is not strictly necessary for us girls to have half the things we do. We might, I suppose, live without many of them, and, as mamma says, look just as well, because girls did so before these things were invented. Now I confess I flatter myself, generally, that I am a pattern of good management and economy, because I get so much less than other girls I associate with. I wish you could see Miss Thorne's fall dresses that she showed me last year when she was visiting here. She had six gowns, and no one of them could have cost less than seventy or eighty dollars, and some of them must have been even more expensive, and yet I don't doubt that this fall she will feel that she must have just as many more. She runs through and wears out these expensive things, with all their velvet and thread lace, just as I wear my commonest ones; and at the end of the season they are really gone,--spotted, stained, frayed, the lace all pulled to pieces,--nothing left to save or make over. I feel as if Jenny and I were patterns of economy when I see such things. I really don't know what economy is. What is it?" "There is the same difficulty in my housekeeping," said my wife. "I think I am an economist. I mean to be one. All our expenses are on a modest scale, and yet I can see much that really is not strictly necessary; but if I compare myself with some of my neighbors, I feel as if I were hardly respectable. There is no subject on which all the world are censuring one another so much as this. Hardly any one but thinks her neighbors extravagant in some one or more particulars, and takes for granted that she herself is an economist." "I'll venture to say," said I, "that there isn't a woman of my acquaintance that does not think she is an economist." "Papa is turned against us women, like all the rest of them," said Jenny. "I wonder if it isn't just so with the men?" "Yes," said Marianne, "it's the fashion to talk as if all the extravagance of the country was perpetrated by women. For my part, I think young men are just as extravagant. Look at the sums they spend for cigars and meerschaums,--an expense which hasn't even the pretense of usefulness in any way; it's a purely selfish, nonsensical indulgence. When a girl spends money in making herself look pretty, she contributes something to the agreeableness of society; but a man's cigars and pipes are neither ornamental nor useful." "Then look at their dress," said Jenny: "they are to the full as fussy and particular about it as girls; they have as many fine, invisible points of fashion, and their fashions change quite as often; and they have just as many knick-knacks, with their studs and their sleeve buttons and waistcoat buttons, their scarfs and scarf pins, their watch chains and seals and seal rings, and nobody knows what. Then they often waste and throw away more than women, because they are not good judges of material, nor saving in what they buy, and have no knowledge of how things should be cared for, altered, or mended. If their cap is a little too tight, they cut the lining with a penknife, or slit holes in a new shirt-collar because it does not exactly fit to their mind. For my part, I think men are naturally twice as wasteful as women. A pretty thing, to be sure, to have all the waste of the country laid to us!" "You are right, child," said I; "women are by nature, as compared with men, the care-taking and saving part of creation,--the authors and conservators of economy. As a general rule, man earns and woman saves and applies. The wastefulness of woman is commonly the fault of man." "I don't see into that," said Bob Stevens. "In this way. Economy is the science of proportion. Whether a particular purchase is extravagant depends mainly on the income it is taken from. Suppose a woman has a hundred and fifty a year for her dress, and gives fifty dollars for a bonnet, she gives a third of her income,--it is a horrible extravagance; while for the woman whose income is ten thousand it may be no extravagance at all. The poor clergyman's wife, when she gives five dollars for a bonnet, may be giving as much in proportion to her income as the woman who gives fifty. Now the difficulty with the greater part of women is, that the men, who make the money and hold it, give them no kind of standard by which to measure their expenses. Most women and girls are in this matter entirely at sea, without chart or compass. They don't know in the least what they have to spend. Husbands and fathers often pride themselves about not saying a word on business matters to their wives and daughters. They don't wish them to understand them, or to inquire into them, or to make remarks or suggestions concerning them. 'I want you to have everything that is suitable and proper,' says Jones to his wife, 'but don't be extravagant.' "'But, my dear,' says Mrs. Jones, 'what is suitable and proper depends very much on our means; if you could allow me any specific sum for dress and housekeeping, I could tell better.' "'Nonsense, Susan! I can't do that,--it's too much trouble. Get what you need, and avoid foolish extravagances; that's all I ask.' "By and by Mrs. Jones's bills are sent in, in an evil hour, when Jones has heavy notes to meet, and then comes a domestic storm. "'I shall just be ruined, madam, if that's the way you are going on. I can't afford to dress you and the girls in the style you have set up: look at this milliner's bill!' "'I assure you,' says Mrs. Jones, 'we haven't got any more than the Stebbinses, nor so much.' "'Don't you know that the Stebbinses are worth five times as much as ever I was?' "No, Mrs. Jones did not know it: how should she, when her husband makes it a rule never to speak of his business to her, and she has not the remotest idea of his income? "Thus multitudes of good, conscientious women and girls are extravagant from pure ignorance. The male provider allows bills to be run up in his name, and they have no earthly means of judging whether they are spending too much or too little, except the semi-annual hurricane which attends the coming in of these bills. "The first essential in the practice of economy is a knowledge of one's income, and the man who refuses to accord to his wife and children this information has never any right to accuse them of extravagance, because he himself deprives them of that standard of comparison which is an indispensable requisite in economy. As early as possible in the education of children, they should pass from that state of irresponsible waiting to be provided for by parents, and be trusted with the spending of some fixed allowance, that they may learn prices and values, and have some notion of what money is actually worth and what it will bring. The simple fact of the possession of a fixed and definite income often suddenly transforms a giddy, extravagant girl into a care-taking, prudent little woman. Her allowance is her own; she begins to plan upon it,--to add, subtract, multiply, divide, and do numberless sums in her little head. She no longer buys everything she fancies; she deliberates, weighs, compares. And now there is room for self-denial and generosity to come in. She can do without this article; she can furbish up some older possession to do duty a little longer, and give this money to some friend poorer than she; and ten to one the girl whose bills last year were four or five hundred finds herself bringing through this year creditably on a hundred and fifty. To be sure, she goes without numerous things which she used to have. From the standpoint of a fixed income she sees that these are impossible, and no more wants them than the green cheese of the moon. She learns to make her own taste and skill take the place of expensive purchases. She refits her hats and bonnets, retrims her dresses, and in a thousand busy, earnest, happy little ways sets herself to make the most of her small income. "So the woman who has her definite allowance for housekeeping finds at once a hundred questions set at rest. Before it was not clear to her why she should not 'go and do likewise' in relation to every purchase made by her next neighbor. Now, there is a clear logic of proportion. Certain things are evidently not to be thought of, though next neighbors do have them; and we must resign ourselves to find some other way of living." "My dear," said my wife, "I think there is a peculiar temptation in a life organized as ours is in America. There are here no settled classes, with similar ratios of income. Mixed together in the same society, going to the same parties, and blended in daily neighborly intercourse, are families of the most opposite extremes in point of fortune. In England there is a very well understood expression, that people should not dress or live above their station; in America none will admit that they have any particular station, or that they can live above it. The principle of democratic equality unites in society people of the most diverse positions and means. "Here, for instance, is a family like Dr. Selden's: an old and highly respected one, with an income of only two or three thousand; yet they are people universally sought for in society, and mingle in all the intercourse of life with merchant millionaires whose incomes are from ten to thirty thousand. Their sons and daughters go to the same schools, the same parties, and are thus constantly meeting upon terms of social equality. "Now it seems to me that our danger does not lie in the great and evident expenses of our richer friends. We do not expect to have pineries, graperies, equipages, horses, diamonds,--we say openly and of course that we do not. Still, our expenses are constantly increased by the proximity of these things, unless we understand ourselves better than most people do. We don't, of course, expect to get a fifteen-hundred-dollar Cashmere, like Mrs. So-and-so, but we begin to look at hundred-dollar shawls and nibble about the hook. We don't expect sets of diamonds, but a diamond ring, a pair of solitaire diamond ear-rings, begin to be speculated about among the young people as among possibilities. We don't expect to carpet our house with Axminster and hang our windows with damask, but at least we must have Brussels and brocatelle,--it _would not do_ not to. And so we go on getting hundreds of things that we don't need, that have no real value except that they soothe our self-love; and for these inferior articles we pay a higher proportion of our income than our rich neighbor does for his better ones. Nothing is uglier than low-priced Cashmere shawls; and yet a young man just entering business will spend an eighth of a year's income to put one on his wife, and when he has put it there it only serves as a constant source of disquiet, for, now that the door is opened and Cashmere shawls are possible, she is consumed with envy at the superior ones constantly sported around her. So, also, with point-lace, velvet dresses, and hundreds of things of that sort, which belong to a certain rate of income, and are absurd below it." "And yet, mamma, I heard Aunt Easygo say that velvet, point-lace, and Cashmere were the cheapest finery that could be bought, because they lasted a lifetime." "Aunt Easygo speaks from an income of ten thousand a year: they may be cheap for her rate of living; but for us, for example, by no magic of numbers can it be made to appear that it is cheaper to have the greatest bargain in the world in Cashmere, lace, and diamonds than not to have them at all. I never had a diamond, never wore a piece of point-lace, never had a velvet dress, and have been perfectly happy, and just as much respected as if I had. Who ever thought of objecting to me for not having them? Nobody, that I ever heard." "Certainly not, mamma," said Marianne. "The thing I have always said to you girls is, that you were not to expect to live like richer people, not to begin to try, not to think or inquire about certain rates of expenditure, or take the first step in certain directions. We have moved on all our life after a very antiquated and old-fashioned mode. We have had our little, old-fashioned house, our little old-fashioned ways." "Except the parlor carpet, and what came of it, my dear," said I mischievously. "Yes, except the parlor carpet," said my wife, with a conscious twinkle, "and the things that came of it; there was a concession there, but one can't be wise always." "_We_ talked mamma into that," said Jenny. "But one thing is certain," said my wife,--"that, though I have had an antiquated, plain house, and plain furniture, and plain dress, and not the beginning of a thing such as many of my neighbors have possessed, I have spent more money than many of them for real comforts. While I had young children, I kept more and better servants than many women who wore Cashmere and diamonds. I thought it better to pay extra wages to a really good, trusty woman who lived with me from year to year, and relieved me of some of my heaviest family cares, than to have ever so much lace locked away in my drawers. We always were able to go into the country to spend our summers, and to keep a good family horse and carriage for daily driving,--by which means we afforded, as a family, very poor patronage to the medical profession. Then we built our house, and, while we left out a great many expensive commonplaces that other people think they must have, we put in a profusion of bathing accommodations such as very few people think of having. There never was a time when we did not feel able to afford to do what was necessary to preserve or to restore health; and for this I always drew on the surplus fund laid up by my very unfashionable housekeeping and dressing." "Your mother has had," said I, "what is the great want in America, perfect independence of mind to go her own way without regard to the way others go. I think there is, for some reason, more false shame among Americans about economy than among Europeans. 'I cannot afford it' is more seldom heard among us. A young man beginning life, whose income may be from five to eight hundred a year, thinks it elegant and gallant to affect a careless air about money, especially among ladies,--to hand it out freely, and put back his change without counting it,--to wear a watch chain and studs and shirt-fronts like those of some young millionaire. None but the most expensive tailors, shoemakers, and hatters will do for him; and then he grumbles at the dearness of living, and declares that he cannot get along on his salary. The same is true of young girls, and of married men and women, too,--the whole of them are ashamed of economy. The cares that wear out life and health in many households are of a nature that cannot be cast on God, or met by any promise from the Bible: it is not care for 'food convenient,' or for comfortable raiment, but care to keep up false appearances, and to stretch a narrow income over the space that can be covered only by a wider one. "The poor widow in her narrow lodgings, with her monthly rent staring her hourly in the face, and her bread and meat and candles and meal all to be paid for on delivery or not obtained at all, may find comfort in the good old Book, reading of that other widow whose wasting measure of oil and last failing handful of meal were of such account before her Father in heaven that a prophet was sent to recruit them; and when customers do not pay, or wages are cut down, she can enter into her chamber, and, when she hath shut her door, present to her Father in heaven His sure promise that with the fowls of the air she shall be fed and with the lilies of the field she shall be clothed: but what promises are there for her who is racking her brains on the ways and means to provide as sumptuous an entertainment of oysters and champagne at her next party as her richer neighbor, or to compass that great bargain which shall give her a point-lace set almost as handsome as that of Mrs. Croesus, who has ten times her income?" "But, papa," said Marianne, with a twinge of that exacting sensitiveness by which the child is characterized, "I think I am an economist, thanks to you and mamma, so far as knowing just what my income is, and keeping within it; but that does not satisfy me, and it seems that isn't all of economy; the question that haunts me is, Might I not make my little all do more and better than I do?" "There," said I, "you have hit the broader and deeper signification of economy, which is, in fact, the science of _comparative values_. In its highest sense, economy is a just judgment of the comparative value of things,--money only the means of enabling one to express that value. This is the reason why the whole matter is so full of difficulty,--why every one criticises his neighbor in this regard. Human beings are so various, the necessities of each are so different, they are made comfortable or uncomfortable by such opposite means, that the spending of other people's incomes must of necessity often look unwise from our standpoint. For this reason multitudes of people who cannot be accused of exceeding their incomes often seem to others to be spending them foolishly and extravagantly." "But is there no standard of value?" said Marianne. "There are certain things upon which there is a pretty general agreement, verbally, at least, among mankind. For instance, it is generally agreed that _health_ is an indispensable good,--that money is well spent that secures it, and worse than ill spent that ruins it. "With this standard in mind, how much money is wasted even by people who do not exceed their income! Here a man builds a house, and pays, in the first place, ten thousand more than he need, for a location in a fashionable part of the city, though the air will be closer and the chances of health less; he spends three or four thousand more on a stone front, on marble mantels imported from Italy, on plate-glass windows, plated hinges, and a thousand nice points of finish, and has perhaps but one bath-room for a whole household, and that so connected with his own apartment that nobody but himself and his wife can use it. "Another man buys a lot in an open, airy situation, which fashion has not made expensive, and builds without a stone front, marble mantels, or plate-glass windows, but has a perfect system of ventilation through his house, and bathing-rooms in every story, so that the children and guests may all, without inconvenience, enjoy the luxury of abundant water. "The first spends for fashion and show, the second for health and comfort. "Here is a man that will buy his wife a diamond bracelet and a lace shawl, and take her yearly to Washington to show off her beauty in ball dresses, who yet will not let her pay wages which will command any but the poorest and most inefficient domestic service. The woman is worn out, her life made a desert by exhaustion consequent on a futile attempt to keep up a showy establishment with only half the hands needed for the purpose. Another family will give brilliant parties, have a gay season every year at the first hotels at Newport, and not be able to afford the wife a fire in her chamber in midwinter, or the servants enough food to keep them from constantly deserting. The damp, mouldy, dingy cellar-kitchen, the cold, windy, desolate attic, devoid of any comfort, where the domestics are doomed to pass their whole time, are witnesses to what such families consider economy. Economy in the view of some is undisguised slipshod slovenliness in the home circle for the sake of fine clothes to be shown abroad; it is undisguised hard selfishness to servants and dependants, counting their every approach to comfort a needless waste,--grudging the Roman Catholic cook her cup of tea at dinner on Friday, when she must not eat meat,--and murmuring that a cracked, second-hand looking-glass must be got for the servants' room: what business have they to want to know how they look? "Some families will employ the cheapest physician, without regard to his ability to kill or cure; some will treat diseases in their incipiency with quack medicines, bought cheap, hoping thereby to fend off the doctor's bill. Some women seem to be pursued by an evil demon of economy, which, like an _ignis fatuus_ in a bog, delights constantly to tumble them over into the mire of expense. They are dismayed at the quantity of sugar in the recipe for preserves, leave out a quarter, and the whole ferments and is spoiled. They cannot by any means be induced at any one time to buy enough silk to make a dress, and the dress finally, after many convulsions and alterations, must be thrown by altogether as too scanty. They get poor needles, poor thread, poor sugar, poor raisins, poor tea, poor coal. One wonders, in looking at their blackened, smouldering grates in a freezing day, what the fire is there at all for,--it certainly warms nobody. The only thing they seem likely to be lavish in is funeral expenses, which come in the wake of leaky shoes and imperfect clothing. These funeral expenses at last swallow all, since nobody can dispute an undertaker's bill. One pities these joyless beings. Economy, instead of a rational act of the judgment, is a morbid monomania, eating the pleasure out of life, and haunting them to the grave. "Some people's ideas of economy seem to run simply in the line of eating. Their flour is of an extra brand, their meat the first cut; the delicacies of every season, in their dearest stages, come home to their table with an apologetic smile,--'It was scandalously dear, my love, but I thought we must just treat ourselves.' And yet these people cannot afford to buy books, and pictures they regard as an unthought-of extravagance. Trudging home with fifty dollars' worth of delicacies on his arm, Smith meets Jones, who is exulting with a bag of crackers under one arm and a choice little bit of an oil painting under the other, which he thinks a bargain at fifty dollars. '_I_ can't afford to buy pictures,' Smith says to his spouse, 'and I don't know how Jones and his wife manage.' Jones and his wife will live on bread and milk for a month, and she will turn her best gown the third time, but they will have their picture, and they are happy. Jones's picture remains, and Smith's fifty dollars' worth of oysters and canned fruit to-morrow will be gone forever. Of all modes of spending money, the swallowing of expensive dainties brings the least return. There is one step lower than this,--the consuming of luxuries that are injurious to the health. If all the money spent on tobacco and liquors could be spent in books and pictures, I predict that nobody's health would be a whit less sound, and houses would be vastly more attractive. There is enough money spent in smoking, drinking, and over-eating to give every family in the community a good library, to hang everybody's parlor walls with lovely pictures, to set up in every house a conservatory which should bloom all winter with choice flowers, to furnish every dwelling with ample bathing and warming accommodations, even down to the dwellings of the poor; and in the millennium I believe this is the way things are to be. "In these times of peril and suffering, if the inquiry arises, How shall there be retrenchment? I answer, First and foremost, retrench things needless, doubtful, and positively hurtful, as rum, tobacco, and all the meerschaums of divers colors that do accompany the same. Second, retrench all eating not necessary to health and comfort. A French family would live in luxury on the leavings that are constantly coming from the tables of those who call themselves in middling circumstances. There are superstitions of the table that ought to be broken through. Why must you always have cake in your closet? why need you feel undone to entertain a guest with no cake on your tea-table? Do without it a year, and ask yourselves if you or your children, or any one else, have suffered materially in consequence. "Why is it imperative that you should have two or three courses at every meal? Try the experiment of having but one, and that a very good one, and see if any great amount of suffering ensues. Why must social intercourse so largely consist in eating? In Paris there is a very pretty custom. Each family has one evening in the week when it stays at home and receives friends. Tea, with a little bread and butter and cake, served in the most informal way, is the only refreshment. The rooms are full, busy, bright,--everything as easy and joyous as if a monstrous supper, with piles of jelly and mountains of cake, were waiting to give the company a nightmare at the close. "Said a lady, pointing to a gentleman and his wife in a social circle of this kind, 'I ought to know them well,--I have seen them every week for twenty years.' It is certainly pleasant and confirmative of social enjoyment for friends to eat together; but a little enjoyed in this way answers the purpose as well as a great deal, and better, too." "Well, papa," said Marianne, "in the matter of dress, now,--how much ought one to spend just to look as others do?" "I will tell you what I saw the other night, girls, in the parlor of one of our hotels. Two middle-aged Quaker ladies came gliding in, with calm, cheerful faces, and lustrous dove-colored silks. By their conversation I found that they belonged to that class of women among the Friends who devote themselves to traveling on missions of benevolence. They had just completed a tour of all the hospitals for wounded soldiers in the country, where they had been carrying comforts, arranging, advising, and soothing by their cheerful, gentle presence. They were now engaged on another mission, to the lost and erring of their own sex; night after night, guarded by a policeman, they had ventured after midnight into the dance-houses where girls are being led to ruin, and with gentle words of tender, motherly counsel sought to win them from their fatal ways,--telling them where they might go the next day to find friends who would open to them an asylum and aid them to seek a better life. "As I looked upon these women, dressed with such modest purity, I began secretly to think that the Apostle was not wrong when he spoke of women adorning themselves with the _ornament_ of a meek and quiet spirit; for the habitual gentleness of their expression, the calmness and purity of the lines in their faces, the delicacy and simplicity of their apparel, seemed of themselves a rare and peculiar beauty. I could not help thinking that fashionable bonnets, flowing lace sleeves, and dresses elaborately trimmed could not have improved even their outward appearance. Doubtless their simple wardrobe needed but a small trunk in traveling from place to place, and hindered but little their prayers and ministrations. "Now, it is true, all women are not called to such a life as this; but might not all women take a leaf at least from their book? I submit the inquiry humbly. It seems to me that there are many who go monthly to the sacrament, and receive it with sincere devotion, and who give thanks each time sincerely that they are thus made 'members incorporate in the mystical body of Christ,' who have never thought of this membership as meaning that they should share Christ's sacrifices for lost souls, or abridge themselves of one ornament or encounter one inconvenience for the sake of those wandering sheep for whom he died. Certainly there is a higher economy which we need to learn,--that which makes all things subservient to the spiritual and immortal, and that not merely to the good of our own souls and those of our family, but of all who are knit with us in the great bonds of human brotherhood. "There have been from time to time, among well-meaning Christian people, retrenchment societies on high moral grounds, which have failed for want of knowledge how to manage the complicated question of necessaries and luxuries. These words have a signification in the case of different people as varied as the varieties of human habit and constitution. It is a department impossible to be bound by external rules, but none the less should every high-minded Christian soul in this matter have a law unto itself. It may safely be laid down as a general rule, that no income, however large or however small, should be unblessed by the divine touch of self-sacrifice. Something for the poor, the sorrowing, the hungry, the tempted, and the weak should be taken from _what is our own_ at the expense of some personal sacrifice, or we suffer more morally than the brother from whom we withdraw it. Even the Lord of all, when dwelling among men, out of that slender private purse which he accepted for his little family of chosen ones, had ever something reserved to give to the poor. It is easy to say, 'It is but a drop in the bucket. I cannot remove the great mass of misery in the world. What little I could save or give does nothing.' It does this, if no more,--it prevents one soul, and that soul your own, from drying and hardening into utter selfishness and insensibility; it enables you to say, I have done something; taken one atom from the great heap of sins and miseries and placed it on the side of good. "The Sisters of Charity and the Friends, each with their different costume of plainness and self-denial, and other noble-hearted women of no particular outward order, but kindred in spirit, have shown to womanhood, on the battlefield and in the hospital, a more excellent way,--a beauty and nobility before which all the common graces and ornaments of the sex fade, appear like dim candles by the pure, eternal stars." IX SERVANTS In the course of my papers various domestic revolutions have occurred. Our Marianne has gone from us with a new name to a new life, and a modest little establishment not many squares off claims about as much of my wife's and Jenny's busy thoughts as those of the proper mistress. Marianne, as I always foresaw, is a careful and somewhat anxious housekeeper. Her tastes are fastidious; she is made for exactitude: the smallest departures from the straight line appear to her shocking deviations. She had always lived in a house where everything had been formed to quiet and order under the ever-present care and touch of her mother; nor had she ever participated in those cares more than to do a little dusting of the parlor ornaments, or wash the best china, or make sponge-cake or chocolate-caramels. Certain conditions of life had always appeared so to be matters of course that she had never conceived of a house without them. It never occurred to her that such bread and biscuit as she saw at the home table would not always and of course appear at every table,--that the silver would not always be as bright, the glass as clear, the salt as fine and smooth, the plates and dishes as nicely arranged, as she had always seen them, apparently without the thought or care of any one; for my wife is one of those housekeepers whose touch is so fine that no one feels it. She is never heard scolding or reproving,--never entertains her company with her recipes for cookery or the faults of her servants. She is so unconcerned about receiving her own personal share of credit for the good appearance of her establishment that even the children of the house have not supposed that there is any particular will of hers in the matter: it all seems the natural consequence of having very good servants. One phenomenon they had never seriously reflected on,--that, under all the changes of the domestic cabinet which are so apt to occur in American households, the same coffee, the same bread and biscuit, the same nicely prepared dishes and neatly laid table, always gladdened their eyes; and from this they inferred only that good servants were more abundant than most people had supposed. They were somewhat surprised when these marvels were wrought by professedly green hands, but were given to suppose that these green hands must have had some remarkable quickness or aptitude for acquiring. That sparkling jelly, well-flavored ice-creams, clear soups, and delicate biscuits could be made by a raw Irish girl, fresh from her native Erin, seemed to them a proof of the genius of the race; and my wife, who never felt it important to attain to the reputation of a cook, quietly let it pass. For some time, therefore, after the inauguration of the new household, there was trouble in the camp. Sour bread had appeared on the table; bitter, acrid coffee had shocked and astonished the palate; lint had been observed on tumblers, and the spoons had sometimes dingy streaks on the brightness of their first bridal polish; beds were detected made shockingly awry: and Marianne came burning with indignation to her mother. "Such a little family as we have, and two strong girls," said she,--"everything ought to be perfect; there is really nothing to do. Think of a whole batch of bread absolutely sour! and when I gave that away, then this morning another exactly like it! and when I talked to cook about it, she said she had lived in this and that family, and her bread had always been praised as equal to the baker's!" "I don't doubt she is right," said I. "Many families never have anything but sour bread from one end of the year to the other, eating it unperceiving, and with good cheer; and they buy also sour bread of the baker, with like approbation,--lightness being in their estimation the only virtue necessary in the article." "Could you not correct her fault?" suggested my wife. "I have done all I can. I told her we could not have such bread, that it was dreadful; Bob says it would give him the dyspepsia in a week; and then she went and made exactly the same! It seems to me mere willfulness." "But," said I, "suppose, instead of such general directions, you should analyze her proceedings and find out just where she makes her mistake: is the root of the trouble in the yeast, or in the time she begins it, letting it rise too long?--the time, you know, should vary so much with the temperature of the weather." "As to that," said Marianne, "I know nothing. I never noticed; it never was my business to make bread; it always seemed quite a simple process, mixing yeast and flour and kneading it; and our bread at home was always good." "It seems, then, my dear, that you have come to your profession without even having studied it." My wife smiled and said,-- "You know, Marianne, I proposed to you to be our family bread-maker for one month of the year before you married." "Yes, mamma, I remember; but I was like other girls: I thought there was no need of it. I never liked to do such things; perhaps I had better have done it." "You certainly had," said I, "for the first business of a housekeeper in America is that of a teacher. She can have a good table only by having practical knowledge, and tact in imparting it. If she understands her business practically and experimentally, her eye detects at once the weak spot; it requires only a little tact, some patience, some clearness in giving directions, and all comes right. I venture to say that your mother would have exactly such bread as always appears on our table, and have it by the hands of your cook, because she could detect and explain to her exactly her error." "Do you know," said my wife, "what yeast she uses?" "I believe," said Marianne, "it's a kind she makes herself. I think I heard her say so. I know she makes a great fuss about it, and rather values herself upon it. She is evidently accustomed to being praised for her bread, and feels mortified and angry, and I don't know how to manage her." "Well," said I, "if you carry your watch to a watchmaker, and undertake to show him how to regulate the machinery, he laughs and goes on his own way; but if a brother-machinist makes suggestions, he listens respectfully. So, when a woman who knows nothing of woman's work undertakes to instruct one who knows more than she does, she makes no impression; but a woman who has been trained experimentally, and shows she understands the matter thoroughly, is listened to with respect." "I think," said my wife, "that your Bridget is worth teaching. She is honest, well-principled, and tidy. She has good recommendations from excellent families, whose ideas of good bread, it appears, differ from ours; and with a little good-nature, tact, and patience, she will come into your ways." "But the coffee, mamma,--you would not imagine it to be from the same bag with your own, so dark and so bitter; what do you suppose she has done to it?" "Simply this," said my wife. "She has let the berries stay a few moments too long over the fire,--they are burnt, instead of being roasted; and there are people who think it essential to good coffee that it should look black, and have a strong, bitter flavor. A very little change in the preparing will alter this." "Now," said I, "Marianne, if you want my advice, I'll give it to you gratis: make your own bread for one month. Simple as the process seems, I think it will take as long as that to give you a thorough knowledge of all the possibilities in the case; but after that you will never need to make any more,--you will be able to command good bread by the aid of all sorts of servants; you will, in other words, be a thoroughly prepared teacher." "I did not think," said Marianne, "that so simple a thing required so much attention." "It is simple," said my wife, "and yet requires a delicate care and watchfulness. There are fifty ways to spoil good bread; there are a hundred little things to be considered and allowed for that require accurate observation and experience. The same process that will raise good bread in cold weather will make sour bread in the heat of summer; different qualities of flour require variations in treatment, as also different sorts and conditions of yeast; and when all is done, the baking presents another series of possibilities which require exact attention." "So it appears," said Marianne gayly, "that I must begin to study my profession at the eleventh hour." "Better late than never," said I. "But there is this advantage on your side: a well-trained mind, accustomed to reflect, analyze, and generalize, has an advantage over uncultured minds even of double experience. Poor as your cook is, she now knows more of her business than you do. After a very brief period of attention and experiment you will not only know more than she does, but you will convince her that you do, which is quite as much to the purpose." "In the same manner," said my wife, "you will have to give lessons to your other girl on the washing of silver and the making of beds. Good servants do not often come to us: they must be _made_ by patience and training; and if a girl has a good disposition and a reasonable degree of handiness, and the housekeeper understands her profession, she may make a good servant out of an indifferent one. Some of my best girls have been those who came to me directly from the ship, with no preparation but docility and some natural quickness. The hardest cases to be managed are not of those who have been taught nothing, but of those who have been taught wrongly,--who come to you self-opinionated, with ways which are distasteful to you, and contrary to the genius of your housekeeping. Such require that their mistress shall understand at least so much of the actual conduct of affairs as to prove to the servant that there are better ways than those in which she has hitherto been trained." "Don't you think, mamma," said Marianne, "that there has been a sort of reaction against woman's work in our day? So much has been said of the higher sphere of woman, and so much has been done to find some better work for her, that insensibly, I think, almost everybody begins to feel that it is rather degrading for a woman in good society to be much tied down to family affairs." "Especially," said my wife, "since in these Woman's Rights Conventions there is so much indignation expressed at those who would confine her ideas to the kitchen and nursery." "There is reason in all things," said I. "Woman's Rights Conventions are a protest against many former absurd, unreasonable ideas,--the mere physical and culinary idea of womanhood as connected only with puddings and shirt-buttons, the unjust and unequal burdens which the laws of harsher ages had cast upon the sex. Many of the women connected with these movements are as superior in everything properly womanly as they are in exceptional talent and culture. There is no manner of doubt that the sphere of woman is properly to be enlarged, and that republican governments in particular are to be saved from corruption and failure only by allowing to woman this enlarged sphere. Every woman has rights as a human being first, which belong to no sex, and ought to be as freely conceded to her as if she were a man,--and, first and foremost, the great right of doing anything which God and Nature evidently have fitted her to excel in. If she be made a natural orator, like Miss Dickinson, or an astronomer, like Mrs. Somerville, or a singer, like Grisi, let not the technical rules of womanhood be thrown in the way of her free use of her powers. Nor can there be any reason shown why a woman's vote in the state should not be received with as much respect as in the family. A state is but an association of families, and laws relate to the rights and immunities which touch woman's most private and immediate wants and dearest hopes; and there is no reason why sister, wife, and mother should be more powerless in the state than in the home. Nor does it make a woman unwomanly to express an opinion by dropping a slip of paper into a box, more than to express that same opinion by conversation. In fact, there is no doubt that, in all matters relating to the interests of education, temperance, and religion, the state would be a material gainer by receiving the votes of women. "But, having said all this, I must admit, _per contra_, not only a great deal of crude, disagreeable talk in these conventions, but a too great tendency of the age to make the education of women anti-domestic. It seems as if the world never could advance except like ships under a head wind, tacking and going too far, now in this direction and now in the opposite. Our common-school system now rejects sewing from the education of girls, which very properly used to occupy many hours daily in school a generation ago. The daughters of laborers and artisans are put through algebra, geometry, trigonometry, and the higher mathematics, to the entire neglect of that learning which belongs distinctively to woman. A girl cannot keep pace with her class if she gives any time to domestic matters, and accordingly she is excused from them all during the whole term of her education. The boy of a family, at an early age, is put to a trade, or the labors of a farm; the father becomes impatient of his support, and requires of him to care for himself. Hence an interrupted education,--learning coming by snatches in the winter months, or in the intervals of work. As the result, the females in our country towns are commonly, in mental culture, vastly in advance of the males of the same household; but with this comes a physical delicacy, the result of an exclusive use of the brain and a neglect of the muscular system, with great inefficiency in practical domestic duties. The race of strong, hardy, cheerful girls, that used to grow up in country places, and made the bright, neat, New England kitchens of old times,--the girls that could wash, iron, brew, bake, harness a horse and drive him, no less than braid straw, embroider, draw, paint, and read innumerable books,--this race of women, pride of olden time, is daily lessening; and in their stead come the fragile, easily fatigued, languid girls of a modern age, drilled in book-learning, ignorant of common things. The great danger of all this, and of the evils that come from it, is that society by and by will turn as blindly against female intellectual culture as it now advocates it, and, having worked disproportionately one way, will work disproportionately in the opposite direction." "The fact is," said my wife, "that domestic service is the great problem of life here in America; the happiness of families, their thrift, well-being, and comfort, are more affected by this than by any one thing else. Our girls, as they have been brought up, cannot perform the labor of their own families, as in those simpler, old-fashioned days you tell of; and, what is worse, they have no practical skill with which to instruct servants, and servants come to us, as a class, raw and untrained; so what is to be done? In the present state of prices, the board of a domestic costs double her wages, and the waste she makes is a more serious matter still. Suppose you give us an article upon this subject in your 'House and Home Papers.' You could not have a better one." * * * * * So I sat down, and wrote thus on SERVANTS AND SERVICE Many of the domestic evils in America originate in the fact that, while society here is professedly based on new principles which ought to make social life in every respect different from the life of the Old World, yet these principles have never been so thought out and applied as to give consistency and harmony to our daily relations. America starts with a political organization based on a declaration of the primitive freedom and equality of all men. Every human being, according to this principle, stands on the same natural level with every other, and has the same chance to rise, according to the degree of power or capacity given by the Creator. All our civil institutions are designed to preserve this equality, as far as possible, from generation to generation: there is no entailed property, there are no hereditary titles, no monopolies, no privileged classes,--all are to be as free to rise and fall as the waves of the sea. The condition of domestic service, however, still retains about it something of the influences from feudal times, and from the near presence of slavery in neighboring States. All English literature, all the literature of the world, describes domestic service in the old feudal spirit and with the old feudal language, which regarded the master as belonging to a privileged class and the servant to an inferior one. There is not a play, not a poem, not a novel, not a history, that does not present this view. The master's rights, like the rights of kings, were supposed to rest in his being born in a superior rank. The good servant was one who, from childhood, had learned "to order himself lowly and reverently to all his betters." When New England brought to these shores the theory of democracy, she brought, in the persons of the first pilgrims, the habits of thought and of action formed in aristocratic communities. Winthrop's Journal, and all the old records of the earlier colonists, show households where masters and mistresses stood on the "right divine" of the privileged classes, howsoever they might have risen up against authorities themselves. The first consequence of this state of things was a universal rejection of domestic service in all classes of American-born society. For a generation or two, there was, indeed, a sort of interchange of family strength,--sons and daughters engaging in the service of neighboring families, in default of a sufficient working force of their own, but always on conditions of strict equality. The assistant was to share the table, the family sitting-room, and every honor and attention that might be claimed by son or daughter. When families increased in refinement and education so as to make these conditions of close intimacy with more uncultured neighbors disagreeable, they had to choose between such intimacies and the performance of their own domestic toil. No wages could induce a son or daughter of New England to take the condition of a servant on terms which they thought applicable to that of a slave. The slightest hint of a separate table was resented as an insult; not to enter the front door, and not to sit in the front parlor on state occasions, was bitterly commented on as a personal indignity. The well-taught, self-respecting daughters of farmers, the class most valuable in domestic service, gradually retired from it. They preferred any other employment, however laborious. Beyond all doubt, the labors of a well-regulated family are more healthy, more cheerful, more interesting, because less monotonous, than the mechanical toils of a factory; yet the girls of New England, with one consent, preferred the factory, and left the whole business of domestic service to a foreign population; and they did it mainly because they would not take positions in families as an inferior laboring class by the side of others of their own age who assumed as their prerogative to live without labor. "I can't let you have one of my daughters," said an energetic matron to her neighbor from the city, who was seeking for a servant in her summer vacation; "if you hadn't daughters of your own, maybe I would; but my girls ain't going to work so that your girls may live in idleness." It was vain to offer money. "We don't need your money, ma'am, we can support ourselves in other ways; my girls can braid straw and bind shoes, but they ain't going to be slaves to anybody." In the Irish and German servants who took the place of Americans in families, there was, to begin with, the tradition of education in favor of a higher class; but even the foreign population became more or less infected with the spirit of democracy. They came to this country with vague notions of freedom and equality, and in ignorant and uncultivated people such ideas are often more unreasonable for being vague. They did not, indeed, claim a seat at the table and in the parlor, but they repudiated many of those habits of respect and courtesy which belonged to their former condition, and asserted their own will and way in the round, unvarnished phrase which they supposed to be their right as republican citizens. Life became a sort of domestic wrangle and struggle between the employers, who secretly confessed their weakness, but endeavored openly to assume the air and bearing of authority, and the employed, who knew their power and insisted on their privileges. From this cause domestic service in America has had less of mutual kindliness than in old countries. Its terms have been so ill understood and defined that both parties have assumed the defensive; and a common topic of conversation in American female society has often been the general servile war which in one form or another was going on in their different families,--a war as interminable as would be a struggle between aristocracy and common people, undefined by any bill of rights or constitution, and therefore opening fields for endless disputes. In England, the class who go to service _are_ a class, and service is a profession; the distance between them and their employers is so marked and defined, and all the customs and requirements of the position are so perfectly understood, that the master or mistress has no fear of being compromised by condescension, and no need of the external voice or air of authority. The higher up in the social scale one goes, the more courteous seems to become the intercourse of master and servant; the more perfect and real the power, the more is it veiled in outward expression,--commands are phrased as requests, and gentleness of voice and manner covers an authority which no one would think of offending without trembling. But in America all is undefined. In the first place, there is no class who mean to make domestic service a profession to live and die in. It is universally an expedient, a stepping-stone to something higher; your best servants always have something else in view as soon as they have laid by a little money; some form of independence which shall give them a home of their own is constantly in mind. Families look forward to the buying of landed homesteads, and the scattered brothers and sisters work awhile in domestic service to gain the common fund for the purpose; your seamstress intends to become a dressmaker, and take in work at her own house; your cook is pondering a marriage with the baker, which shall transfer her toils from your cooking-stove to her own. Young women are eagerly rushing into every other employment, till female trades and callings are all overstocked. We are continually harrowed with tales of the sufferings of distressed needlewomen, of the exactions and extortions practiced on the frail sex in the many branches of labor and trade at which they try their hands; and yet women will encounter all these chances of ruin and starvation rather than make up their minds to permanent domestic service. Now what is the matter with domestic service? One would think, on the face of it, that a calling which gives a settled home, a comfortable room, rent-free, with fire and lights, good board and lodging, and steady, well-paid wages, would certainly offer more attractions than the making of shirts for tenpence, with all the risks of providing one's own sustenance and shelter. I think it is mainly from the want of a definite idea of the true position of a servant under our democratic institutions that domestic service is so shunned and avoided in America, that it is the very last thing which an intelligent young woman will look to for a living. It is more the want of personal respect toward those in that position than the labors incident to it which repels our people from it. Many would be willing to perform these labors, but they are not willing to place themselves in a situation where their self-respect is hourly wounded by _the implication of a degree of inferiority which does not follow any kind of labor or service in this country but that of the family_. There exists in the minds of employers an unsuspected spirit of superiority, which is stimulated into an active form by the resistance which democracy inspires in the working class. Many families think of servants only as a necessary evil, their wages as exactions, and all that is allowed them as so much taken from the family; and they seek in every way to get from them as much and to give them as little as possible. Their rooms are the neglected, ill-furnished, incommodious ones,--and the kitchen is the most cheerless and comfortless place in the house. Other families, more good-natured and liberal, provide their domestics with more suitable accommodations, and are more indulgent; but there is still a latent spirit of something like contempt for the position. That they treat their servants with so much consideration seems to them a merit entitling them to the most prostrate gratitude; and they are constantly disappointed and shocked at that want of sense of inferiority on the part of these people which leads them to appropriate pleasant rooms, good furniture, and good living as mere matters of common justice. It seems to be a constant surprise to some employers that servants should insist on having the same human wants as themselves. Ladies who yawn in their elegantly furnished parlors, among books and pictures, if they have not company, parties, or opera to diversify the evening, seem astonished and half indignant that cook and chambermaid are more disposed to go out for an evening gossip than to sit on hard chairs in the kitchen where they have been toiling all day. The pretty chambermaid's anxieties about her dress, the time she spends at her small and not very clear mirror, are sneeringly noticed by those whose toilet-cares take up serious hours; and the question has never apparently occurred to them why a serving-maid should not want to look pretty as well as her mistress. She is a woman as well as they, with all a woman's wants and weaknesses; and her dress is as much to her as theirs to them. A vast deal of trouble among servants arises from impertinent interferences and petty tyrannical exactions on the part of employers. Now the authority of the master and mistress of a house in regard to their domestics extends simply to the things they have contracted to do and the hours during which they have contracted to serve; otherwise than this, they have no more right to interfere with them in the disposal of their time than with any mechanic whom they employ. They have, indeed, a right to regulate the hours of their own household, and servants can choose between conformity to these hours and the loss of their situation; but, within reasonable limits, their right to come and go at their own discretion, in their own time, should be unquestioned. If employers are troubled by the fondness of their servants for dancing, evening company, and late hours, the proper mode of proceeding is to make these matters a subject of distinct contract in hiring. The more strictly and perfectly the business matters of the first engagement of domestics are conducted, the more likelihood there is of mutual quiet and satisfaction in the relation. It is quite competent to every housekeeper to say what practices are or are not consistent with the rules of her family, and what will be inconsistent with the service for which she agrees to pay. It is much better to regulate such affairs by cool contract in the outset than by warm altercations and protracted domestic battles. As to the terms of social intercourse, it seems somehow to be settled in the minds of many employers that their servants owe them and their family more respect than they and the family owe to the servants. But do they? What is the relation of servant to employer in a democratic country? Precisely that of a person who for money performs any kind of service for you. The carpenter comes into your house to put up a set of shelves,--the cook comes into your kitchen to cook your dinner. You never think that the carpenter owes you any more respect than you owe to him because he is in your house doing your behests; he is your fellow-citizen, you treat him with respect, you expect to be treated with respect by him. You have a claim on him that he shall do your work according to your directions,--no more. Now I apprehend that there is a very common notion as to the position and rights of servants which is quite different from this. Is it not a common feeling that a servant is one who may be treated with a degree of freedom by every member of the family which he or she may not return? Do not people feel at liberty to question servants about their private affairs, to comment on their dress and appearance, in a manner which they would feel to be an impertinence if reciprocated? Do they not feel at liberty to express dissatisfaction with their performances in rude and unceremonious terms, to reprove them in the presence of company, while yet they require that the dissatisfaction of servants shall be expressed only in terms of respect? A woman would not feel herself at liberty to talk to her milliner or her dressmaker in language as devoid of consideration as she will employ towards her cook or chambermaid. Yet both are rendering her a service which she pays for in money, and one is no more made her inferior thereby than the other. Both have an equal right to be treated with courtesy. The master and mistress of a house have a right to require respectful treatment from all whom their roof shelters, but they have no more right to exact it of servants than of every guest and every child, and they themselves owe it as much to servants as to guests. In order that servants may be treated with respect and courtesy, it is not necessary, as in simpler patriarchal days, that they sit at the family table. Your carpenter or plumber does not feel hurt that you do not ask him to dine with you, nor your milliner and mantua-maker that you do not exchange ceremonious calls and invite them to your parties. It is well understood that your relations with them are of a mere business character. They never take it as an assumption of superiority on your part that you do not admit them to relations of private intimacy. There may be the most perfect respect and esteem and even friendship between them and you, notwithstanding. So it may be in the case of servants. It is easy to make any person understand that there are quite other reasons than the assumption of personal superiority for not wishing to admit servants to the family privacy. It was not, in fact, to sit in the parlor or at the table, in themselves considered, that was the thing aimed at by New England girls,--these were valued only as signs that they were deemed worthy of respect and consideration, and, where freely conceded, were often in point of fact declined. Let servants feel, in their treatment by their employers, and in the atmosphere of the family, that their position is held to be a respectable one, let them feel in the mistress of the family the charm of unvarying consideration and good manners, let their work rooms be made convenient and comfortable, and their private apartments bear some reasonable comparison in point of agreeableness to those of other members of the family, and domestic service will be more frequently sought by a superior and self-respecting class. There are families in which such a state of things prevails; and such families, amid the many causes which unite to make the tenure of service uncertain, have generally been able to keep good permanent servants. There is an extreme into which kindly disposed people often run with regard to servants, which may be mentioned here. They make pets of them. They give extravagant wages and indiscreet indulgences, and, through indolence and easiness of temper, tolerate neglect of duty. Many of the complaints of the ingratitude of servants come from those who have spoiled them in this way; while many of the longest and most harmonious domestic unions have sprung from a simple, quiet course of Christian justice and benevolence, a recognition of servants as fellow-beings and fellow-Christians, and a doing to them as we would in like circumstances that they should do to us. The mistresses of American families, whether they like it or not, have the duties of missionaries imposed upon them by that class from which our supply of domestic servants is drawn. They may as well accept the position cheerfully, and, as one raw, untrained hand after another passes through their family, and is instructed by them in the mysteries of good housekeeping, comfort themselves with the reflection that they are doing something to form good wives and mothers for the Republic. The complaints made of Irish girls are numerous and loud; the failings of green Erin, alas! are but too open and manifest; yet, in arrest of judgment, let us move this consideration: let us imagine our own daughters between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four, untaught and inexperienced in domestic affairs as they commonly are, shipped to a foreign shore to seek service in families. It may be questioned whether as a whole they would do much better. The girls that fill our families and do our housework are often of the age of our own daughters, standing for themselves, without mothers to guide them, in a foreign country, not only bravely supporting themselves, but sending home in every ship remittances to impoverished friends left behind. If our daughters did as much for us, should we not be proud of their energy and heroism? When we go into the houses of our country, we find a majority of well-kept, well-ordered, and even elegant establishments where the only hands employed are those of the daughters of Erin. True, American women have been their instructors, and many a weary hour of care have they had in the discharge of this office; but the result on the whole is beautiful and good, and the end of it, doubtless, will be peace. In speaking of the office of the American mistress as being a missionary one, we are far from recommending any controversial interference with the religious faith of our servants. It is far better to incite them to be good Christians in their own way than to run the risk of shaking their faith in all religion by pointing out to them the errors of that in which they have been educated. The general purity of life and propriety of demeanor of so many thousands of undefended young girls cast yearly upon our shores, with no home but their church, and no shield but their religion, are a sufficient proof that this religion exerts an influence over them not to be lightly trifled with. But there is a real unity even in opposite Christian forms; and the Roman Catholic servant and the Protestant mistress, if alike possessed by the spirit of Christ, and striving to conform to the Golden Rule, cannot help being one in heart, though one go to mass and the other to meeting. Finally, the bitter baptism through which we are passing, the life blood dearer than our own which is drenching distant fields, should remind us of the preciousness of distinctive American ideas. They who would seek in their foolish pride to establish the pomp of liveried servants in America are doing that which is simply absurd. A servant can never in our country be the mere appendage to another man, to be marked like a sheep with the color of his owner; he must be a fellow-citizen, with an established position of his own, free to make contracts, free to come and go, and having in his sphere titles to consideration and respect just as definite as those of any trade or profession whatever. Moreover, we cannot in this country maintain to any great extent large retinues of servants. Even with ample fortunes they are forbidden by the general character of society here, which makes them cumbrous and difficult to manage. Every mistress of a family knows that her cares increase with every additional servant. Two keep the peace with each other and their employer; three begin a possible discord, which possibility increases with four, and becomes certain with five or six. Trained housekeepers, such as regulate the complicated establishments of the Old World, form a class that are not, and from the nature of the case never will be, found in any great numbers in this country. All such women, as a general thing, are keeping, and prefer to keep, houses of their own. A moderate style of housekeeping, small, compact, and simple domestic establishments, must necessarily be the general order of life in America. So many openings of profit are to be found in this country that domestic service necessarily wants the permanence which forms so agreeable a feature of it in the Old World. This being the case, it should be an object in America to exclude from the labors of the family all that can, with greater advantage, be executed out of it by combined labor. Formerly, in New England, soap and candles were to be made in each separate family; now, comparatively few take this toil upon them. We buy soap of the soap-maker, and candles of the candle-factor. This principle might be extended much further. In France no family makes its own bread, and better bread cannot be eaten than what can be bought at the appropriate shops. No family does its own washing; the family's linen is all sent to women who, making this their sole profession, get it up with a care and nicety which can seldom be equaled in any family. How would it simplify the burdens of the American housekeeper to have washing and ironing day expunged from her calendar! How much more neatly and compactly could the whole domestic system be arranged! If all the money that each separate family spends on the outfit and accommodations for washing and ironing, on fuel, soap, starch, and the other et ceteras, were united in a fund to create a laundry for every dozen families, one or two good women could do in firstrate style what now is very indifferently done by the disturbance and disarrangement of all other domestic processes in these families. Whoever sets neighborhood laundries on foot will do much to solve the American housekeeper's hardest problem. Finally, American women must not try with three servants to carry on life in the style which in the Old World requires sixteen: they must thoroughly understand, and be prepared _to teach_, every branch of housekeeping; they must study to make domestic service desirable by treating their servants in a way to lead them to respect themselves and to feel themselves respected; and there will gradually be evolved from the present confusion a solution of the domestic problem which shall be adapted to the life of a new and growing world. X COOKERY My wife and I were sitting at the open bow-window of my study, watching the tuft of bright-red leaves on our favorite maple, which warned us that summer was over. I was solacing myself, like all the world in our days, with reading the "Schönberg Cotta Family," when my wife made her voice heard through the enchanted distance, and dispersed the pretty vision of German cottage life. "Chris!" "Well, my dear." "Do you know the day of the month?" Now my wife knows this is a thing that I never do know, that I can't know, and in fact that there is no need I should trouble myself about, since she always knows, and, what is more, always tells me. In fact, the question, when asked by her, meant more than met the ear. It was a delicate way of admonishing me that another paper for the "Atlantic" ought to be in train; and so I answered, not to the external form, but to the internal intention,-- "Well, you see, my dear, I haven't made up my mind what my next paper shall be about." "Suppose, then, you let me give you a subject." "Sovereign lady, speak on! Your slave hears!" "Well, then, take _Cookery_. It may seem a vulgar subject, but I think more of health and happiness depends on that than on any other one thing. You may make houses enchantingly beautiful, hang them with pictures, have them clean and airy and convenient; but if the stomach is fed with sour bread and burnt coffee, it will raise such rebellions that the eyes will see no beauty anywhere. Now, in the little tour that you and I have been taking this summer, I have been thinking of the great abundance of splendid material we have in America, compared with the poor cooking. How often, in our stoppings, we have sat down to tables loaded with material, originally of the very best kind, which had been so spoiled in the treatment that there was really nothing to eat! Green biscuits with acrid spots of alkali; sour yeast-bread; meat slowly simmered in fat till it seemed like grease itself, and slowly congealing in cold grease; and, above all, that unpardonable enormity, strong butter! How often I have longed to show people what might have been done with the raw material out of which all these monstrosities were concocted!" "My dear," said I, "you are driving me upon delicate ground. Would you have your husband appear in public with that most opprobrious badge of the domestic furies, a dishcloth, pinned to his coat-tail? It is coming to exactly the point I have always predicted, Mrs. Crowfield: you must write yourself. I always told you that you could write far better than I, if you would only try. Only sit down and write as you sometimes talk to me, and I might hang up my pen by the side of 'Uncle Ned's' fiddle and bow." "Oh, nonsense!" said my wife. "I never could write. I know what ought to be said, and I could _say_ it to any one; but my ideas freeze in the pen, cramp in my fingers, and make my brain seem like heavy bread. I was born for extemporary speaking. Besides, I think the best things on all subjects in this world of ours are said, not by the practical workers, but by the careful observers." "Mrs. Crowfield, that remark is as good as if I had made it myself," said I. "It is true that I have been all my life a speculator and observer in all domestic matters, having them so confidentially under my eye in our own household; and so, if I write on a pure woman's matter, it must be understood that I am only your pen and mouthpiece,--only giving tangible form to wisdom which I have derived from you." So down I sat and scribbled, while my sovereign lady quietly stitched by my side. And here I tell my reader that I write on such a subject under protest,--declaring again my conviction that, if my wife only believed in herself as firmly as I do, she would write so that nobody would ever want to listen to me again. COOKERY We in America have the raw material of provision in greater abundance than any other nation. There is no country where an ample, well-furnished table is more easily spread, and for that reason, perhaps, none where the bounties of Providence are more generally neglected. I do not mean to say that the traveler through the length and breadth of our land could not, on the whole, find an average of comfortable subsistence; yet, considering that our resources are greater than those of any other civilized people, our results are comparatively poorer. It is said that, a list of the summer vegetables which are exhibited on New York hotel tables being shown to a French _artiste_, he declared that to serve such a dinner properly would take till midnight. I recollect how I was once struck with our national plenteousness on returning from a Continental tour, and going directly from the ship to a New York hotel, in the bounteous season of autumn. For months I had been habituated to my neat little bits of chop or poultry garnished with the inevitable cauliflower or potato, which seemed to be the sole possibility after the reign of green peas was over. Now I sat down all at once to a carnival of vegetables,--ripe, juicy tomatoes, raw or cooked; cucumbers in brittle slices; rich, yellow sweet potatoes; broad Lima-beans, and beans of other and various names; tempting ears of Indian corn steaming in enormous piles, and great smoking tureens of the savory succotash, an Indian gift to the table for which civilization need not blush; sliced egg-plant in delicate fritters; and marrow squashes, of creamy pulp and sweetness: a rich variety, embarrassing to the appetite, and perplexing to the choice. Verily, the thought has often impressed itself on my mind that the vegetarian doctrine preached in America left a man quite as much as he had capacity to eat or enjoy, and that in the midst of such tantalizing abundance he really lost the apology which elsewhere bears him out in preying upon his less gifted and accomplished animal neighbors. But with all this, the American table, taken as a whole, is inferior to that of England or France. It presents a fine abundance of material, carelessly and poorly treated. The management of food is nowhere in the world, perhaps, more slovenly and wasteful. Everything betokens that want of care that waits on abundance; there are great capabilities and poor execution. A tourist through England can seldom fail, at the quietest country inn, of finding himself served with the essentials of English table comfort,--his mutton-chop done to a turn, his steaming little private apparatus for concocting his own tea, his choice pot of marmalade or slice of cold ham, and his delicate rolls and creamy butter, all served with care and neatness. In France, one never asks in vain for delicious _café-au-lait_, good bread and butter, a nice omelet, or some savory little portion of meat with a French name. But to a tourist taking like chance in American country fare, what is the prospect? What is the coffee? what the tea? and the meat? and, above all, the butter? In lecturing on cookery, as on housebuilding, I divide the subject into, not four, but five grand elements: first, Bread; second, Butter; third, Meat; fourth, Vegetables; and fifth, Tea,--by which I mean, generically, all sorts of warm, comfortable drinks served out in teacups, whether they be called tea, coffee, chocolate, broma, or what not. I affirm that, if these five departments are all perfect, the great ends of domestic cookery are answered, so far as the comfort and well-being of life are concerned. I am aware that there exists another department, which is often regarded by culinary amateurs and young aspirants as the higher branch and very collegiate course of practical cookery; to wit, confectionery, by which I mean to designate all pleasing and complicated compounds of sweets and spices, devised not for health and nourishment, and strongly suspected of interfering with both,--mere tolerated gratifications of the palate, which we eat, not with the expectation of being benefited, but only with the hope of not being injured by them. In this large department rank all sorts of cakes, pies, preserves, ices, etc. I shall have a word or two to say under this head before I have done. I only remark now that, in my tours about the country, I have often had a virulent ill-will excited towards these works of culinary supererogation, because I thought their excellence was attained by treading under foot and disregarding the five grand essentials. I have sat at many a table garnished with three or four kinds of well-made cake, compounded with citron and spices and all imaginable good things, where the meat was tough and greasy, the bread some hot preparation of flour, lard, saleratus, and acid, and the butter unutterably detestable. At such tables I have thought that, if the mistress of the feast had given the care, time, and labor to preparing the simple items of bread, butter, and meat that she evidently had given to the preparation of these extras, the lot of a traveler might be much more comfortable. Evidently she never had thought of these common articles as constituting a good table. So long as she had puff pastry, rich black cake, clear jelly, and preserves, she seemed to consider that such unimportant matters as bread, butter, and meat could take care of themselves. It is the same inattention to common things as that which leads people to build houses with stone fronts and window-caps and expensive front-door trimmings, without bathing-rooms or fireplaces or ventilators. Those who go into the country looking for summer board in farmhouses know perfectly well that a table where the butter is always fresh, the tea and coffee of the best kinds and well made, and the meats properly kept, dressed, and served, is the one table of a hundred, the fabulous enchanted island. It seems impossible to get the idea into the minds of people that what is called common food, carefully prepared, becomes, in virtue of that very care and attention, a delicacy, superseding the necessity of artificially compounded dainties. To begin, then, with the very foundation of a good table,--_Bread_: What ought it to be? It should be light, sweet, and tender. This matter of lightness is the distinctive line between savage and civilized bread. The savage mixes simple flour and water into balls of paste, which he throws into boiling water, and which come out solid, glutinous masses, of which his common saying is, "Man eat dis, he no die,"--which a facetious traveler who was obliged to subsist on it interpreted to mean, "Dis no kill you, nothing will." In short, it requires the stomach of a wild animal or of a savage to digest this primitive form of bread, and of course more or less attention in all civilized modes of bread making is given to producing lightness. By lightness is meant simply that the particles are to be separated from each other by little holes or air-cells; and all the different methods of making light bread are neither more nor less than the formation in bread of these air-cells. So far as we know, there are four practicable methods of aerating bread, namely, by fermentation; by effervescence of an acid and an alkali; by aerated egg, or egg which has been filled with air by the process of beating; and, lastly, by pressure of some gaseous substance into the paste, by a process much resembling the impregnation of water in a soda fountain. All these have one and the same object,--to give us the cooked particles of our flour separated by such permanent air-cells as will enable the stomach more readily to digest them. A very common mode of aerating bread in America is by the effervescence of an acid and an alkali in the flour. The carbonic acid gas thus formed produces minute air-cells in the bread, or, as the cook says, makes it light. When this process is performed with exact attention to chemical laws, so that the acid and alkali completely neutralize each other, leaving no overplus of either, the result is often very palatable. The difficulty is, that this is a happy conjunction of circumstances which seldom occurs. The acid most commonly employed is that of sour milk, and, as milk has many degrees of sourness, the rule of a certain quantity of alkali to the pint must necessarily produce very different results at different times. As an actual fact, where this mode of making bread prevails, as we lament to say it does to a great extent in this country, one finds five cases of failure to one of success. It is a woful thing that the daughters of New England have abandoned the old respectable mode of yeast brewing and bread raising for this specious substitute, so easily made, and so seldom well made. The green, clammy, acrid substance called biscuit, which many of our worthy republicans are obliged to eat in these days, is wholly unworthy of the men and women of the Republic. Good patriots ought not to be put off in that way,--they deserve better fare. As an occasional variety, as a household convenience for obtaining bread or biscuit at a moment's notice, the process of effervescence may be retained; but we earnestly entreat American housekeepers, in Scriptural language, to stand in the way and ask for the old paths, and return to the good yeast-bread of their sainted grandmothers. If acid and alkali must be used, by all means let them be mixed in due proportions. No cook should be left to guess and judge for herself about this matter. There is an article, called "Preston's Infallible Yeast Powder," which is made by chemical rule, and produces very perfect results. The use of this obviates the worst dangers in making bread by effervescence. Of all processes of aeration in bread-making, the oldest and most time-honored is by fermentation. That this was known in the days of our Saviour is evident from the forcible simile in which he compares the silent permeating force of truth in human society to the very familiar household process of raising bread by a little yeast. There is, however, one species of yeast, much used in some parts of the country, against which I have to enter my protest. It is called salt-risings, or milk-risings, and is made by mixing flour, milk, and a little salt together and leaving them to ferment. The bread thus produced is often very attractive, when new and made with great care. It is white and delicate, with fine, even air-cells. It has, however, when kept, some characteristics which remind us of the terms in which our old English Bible describes the effect of keeping the manna of the ancient Israelites, which we are informed, in words more explicit than agreeable, "stank, and bred worms." If salt-rising bread does not fulfill the whole of this unpleasant description, it certainly does emphatically a part of it. The smell which it has in baking, and when more than a day old, suggests the inquiry whether it is the saccharine or the putrid fermentation with which it is raised. Whoever breaks a piece of it after a day or two will often see minute filaments or clammy strings drawing out from the fragments, which, with the unmistakable smell, will cause him to pause before consummating a nearer acquaintance. The fermentation of flour by means of brewer's or distiller's yeast produces, if rightly managed, results far more palatable and wholesome. The only requisites for success in it are, first, good materials, and, second, great care in a few small things. There are certain low-priced or damaged kinds of flour which can never by any kind of domestic chemistry be made into good bread; and to those persons whose stomachs forbid them to eat gummy, glutinous paste, under the name of bread, there is no economy in buying these poor brands, even at half the price of good flour. But good flour and good yeast being supposed, with a temperature favorable to the development of fermentation, the whole success of the process depends on the thorough diffusion of the proper proportion of yeast through the whole mass, and on stopping the subsequent fermentation at the precise and fortunate point. The true housewife makes her bread the sovereign of her kitchen,--its behests must be attended to in all critical points and moments, no matter what else be postponed. She who attends to her bread when she has done this, and arranged that, and performed the other, very often finds that the forces of nature will not wait for her. The snowy mass, perfectly mixed, kneaded with care and strength, rises in its beautiful perfection till the moment comes for fixing the air-cells by baking. A few minutes now, and the acetous fermentation will begin, and the whole result be spoiled. Many bread-makers pass in utter carelessness over this sacred and mysterious boundary. Their oven has cake in it, or they are skimming jelly, or attending to some other of the so-called higher branches of cookery, while the bread is quickly passing into the acetous stage. At last, when they are ready to attend to it, they find that it has been going its own way,--it is so sour that the pungent smell is plainly perceptible. Now the saleratus-bottle is handed down, and a quantity of the dissolved alkali mixed with the paste,--an expedient sometimes making itself too manifest by greenish streaks or small acrid spots in the bread. As the result, we have a beautiful article spoiled,--bread without sweetness, if not absolutely sour. In the view of many, lightness is the only property required in this article. The delicate, refined sweetness which exists in carefully kneaded bread, baked just before it passes to the extreme point of fermentation, is something of which they have no conception; and thus they will even regard this process of spoiling the paste by the acetous fermentation, and then rectifying that acid by effervescence with an alkali, as something positively meritorious. How else can they value and relish baker's loaves, such as some are, drugged with ammonia and other disagreeable things, light indeed, so light that they seem to have neither weight nor substance, but with no more sweetness or taste than so much white cotton? Some persons prepare bread for the oven by simply mixing it in the mass, without kneading, pouring it into pans, and suffering it to rise there. The air-cells in bread thus prepared are coarse and uneven; the bread is as inferior in delicacy and nicety to that which is well kneaded as a raw Irish servant to a perfectly educated and refined lady. The process of kneading seems to impart an evenness to the minute air-cells, a fineness of texture, and a tenderness and pliability to the whole substance, that can be gained in no other way. The divine principle of beauty has its reign over bread as well as over all other things; it has its laws of æsthetics; and that bread which is so prepared that it can be formed into separate and well-proportioned loaves, each one carefully worked and moulded, will develop the most beautiful results. After being moulded, the loaves should stand a little while, just long enough to allow the fermentation going on in them to expand each little air-cell to the point at which it stood before it was worked down, and then they should be immediately put into the oven. Many a good thing, however, is spoiled in the oven. We cannot but regret, for the sake of bread, that our old steady brick ovens have been almost universally superseded by those of ranges and cooking-stoves, which are infinite in their caprices, and forbid all general rules. One thing, however, may be borne in mind as a principle,--that the excellence of bread in all its varieties, plain or sweetened, depends on the perfection of its air-cells, whether produced by yeast, egg, or effervescence; that one of the objects of baking is to fix these air-cells, and that the quicker this can be done through the whole mass, the better will the result be. When cake or bread is made heavy by baking too quickly, it is because the immediate formation of the top crust hinders the exhaling of the moisture in the centre, and prevents the air-cells from cooking. The weight also of the crust pressing down on the doughy air-cells below destroys them, producing that horror of good cooks, a heavy streak. The problem in baking, then, is the quick application of heat rather below than above the loaf, and its steady continuance till all the air-cells are thoroughly dried into permanent consistency. Every housewife must watch her own oven to know how this can be best accomplished. Bread-making can be cultivated to any extent as a fine art; and the various kinds of biscuit, tea-rusks, twists, rolls, into which bread may be made, are much better worth a housekeeper's ambition than the getting up of rich and expensive cake or confections. There are also varieties of material which are rich in good effects. Unbolted flour, altogether more wholesome than the fine wheat, and when properly prepared more palatable, rye-flour and corn-meal, each affording a thousand attractive possibilities,--each and all of these come under the general laws of breadstuffs, and are worth a careful attention. A peculiarity of our American table, particularly in the Southern and Western States, is the constant exhibition of various preparations of hot bread. In many families of the South and West, bread in loaves to be eaten cold is an article quite unknown. The effect of this kind of diet upon the health has formed a frequent subject of remark among travelers; but only those know the full mischiefs of it who have been compelled to sojourn for a length of time in families where it is maintained. The unknown horrors of dyspepsia from bad bread are a topic over which we willingly draw a veil. * * * * * Next to bread comes _butter_,--on which we have to say that, when we remember what butter is in civilized Europe, and compare it with what it is in America, we wonder at the forbearance and lenity of travelers in their strictures on our national commissariat. Butter in England, France, and Italy is simply solidified cream, with all the sweetness of the cream in its taste, freshly churned each day, and unadulterated by salt. At the present moment, when salt is five cents a pound and butter fifty, we Americans are paying, I should judge from the taste, for about one pound of salt to every ten of butter, and those of us who have eaten the butter of France and England do this with rueful recollections. There is, it is true, an article of butter made in the American style with salt, which, in its own kind and way, has a merit not inferior to that of England and France. Many prefer it, and it certainly takes a rank equally respectable with the other. It is yellow, hard, and worked so perfectly free from every particle of buttermilk that it might make the voyage of the world without spoiling. It is salted, but salted with care and delicacy, so that it may be a question whether even a fastidious Englishman might not prefer its golden solidity to the white, creamy freshness of his own. Now I am not for universal imitation of foreign customs, and where I find this butter made perfectly I call it our American style, and am not ashamed of it. I only regret that this article is the exception, and not the rule, on our tables. When I reflect on the possibilities which beset the delicate stomach in this line, I do not wonder that my venerated friend Dr. Mussey used to close his counsels to invalids with the direction, "And don't eat grease on your bread." America must, I think, have the credit of manufacturing and putting into market more bad butter than all that is made in all the rest of the world together. The varieties of bad tastes and smells which prevail in it are quite a study. This has a cheesy taste, that a mouldy,--this is flavored with cabbage, and that again with turnip; and another has the strong, sharp savor of rancid animal fat. These varieties, I presume, come from the practice of churning only at long intervals, and keeping the cream meanwhile in unventilated cellars or dairies, the air of which is loaded with the effluvia of vegetable substances. No domestic articles are so sympathetic as those of the milk tribe: they readily take on the smell and taste of any neighboring substance, and hence the infinite variety of flavors on which one mournfully muses who has late in autumn to taste twenty firkins of butter in hopes of finding one which will simply not be intolerable on his winter table. A matter for despair as regards bad butter is that, at the tables where it is used, it stands sentinel at the door to bar your way to every other kind of food. You turn from your dreadful half-slice of bread, which fills your mouth with bitterness, to your beefsteak, which proves virulent with the same poison; you think to take refuge in vegetable diet, and find the butter in the string-beans, and polluting the innocence of early peas; it is in the corn, in the succotash, in the squash; the beets swim in it, the onions have it poured over them. Hungry and miserable, you think to solace yourself at the dessert; but the pastry is cursed, the cake is acrid with the same plague. You are ready to howl with despair, and your misery is great upon you, especially if this is a table where you have taken board for three months with your delicate wife and four small children. Your case is dreadful,--and it is hopeless, because long usage and habit have rendered your host perfectly incapable of discovering what is the matter. "Don't like the butter, sir? I assure you I paid an extra price for it, and it's the very best in the market. I looked over as many as a hundred tubs, and picked out this one." You are dumb, but not less despairing. Yet the process of making good butter is a very simple one. To keep the cream in a perfectly pure, cool atmosphere, to churn while it is yet sweet, to work out the buttermilk thoroughly, and to add salt with such discretion as not to ruin the fine, delicate flavor of the fresh cream,--all this is quite simple, so simple that one wonders at thousands and millions of pounds of butter yearly manufactured which are merely a hobgoblin-bewitchment of cream into foul and loathsome poisons. * * * * * The third head of my discourse is that of _Meat_, of which America furnishes, in the gross material, enough to spread our tables royally, were it well cared for and served. The faults in the meat generally furnished to us are, first, that it is too new. A beefsteak, which three or four days of keeping might render practicable, is served up to us palpitating with freshness, with all the toughness of animal muscle yet warm. In the Western country, the traveler, on approaching an hotel, is often saluted by the last shrieks of the chickens which half an hour afterward are presented to him à la spread-eagle for his dinner. The example of the Father of the Faithful, most wholesome to be followed in so many respects, is imitated only in the celerity with which the young calf, tender and good, was transformed into an edible dish for hospitable purposes. But what might be good housekeeping in a nomadic Emir, in days when refrigerators were yet in the future, ought not to be so closely imitated as it often is in our own land. In the next place, there is a woful lack of nicety in the butcher's work of cutting and preparing meat. Who that remembers the neatly trimmed mutton-chop of an English inn, or the artistic little circle of lamb-chop fried in bread-crumbs coiled around a tempting centre of spinach which can always be found in France, can recognize any family resemblance to these dapper civilized preparations in those coarse, roughly hacked strips of bone, gristle, and meat which are commonly called mutton-chop in America? There seems to be a large dish of something resembling meat, in which each fragment has about two or three edible morsels, the rest being composed of dry and burnt skin, fat, and ragged bone. Is it not time that civilization should learn to demand somewhat more care and nicety in the modes of preparing what is to be cooked and eaten? Might not some of the refinement and trimness which characterize the preparations of the European market be with advantage introduced into our own? The housekeeper who wishes to garnish her table with some of those nice things is stopped in the outset by the butcher. Except in our large cities, where some foreign travel may have created the demand, it seems impossible to get much in this line that is properly prepared. I am aware that, if this is urged on the score of æsthetics, the ready reply will be, "Oh, we can't give time here in America to go into niceties and French whim-whams!" But the French mode of doing almost all practical things is based on that true philosophy and utilitarian good sense which characterize that seemingly thoughtless people. Nowhere is economy a more careful study, and their market is artistically arranged to this end. The rule is so to cut their meats that no portion designed to be cooked in a certain manner shall have wasteful appendages which that mode of cooking will spoil. The French soup kettle stands ever ready to receive the bones, the thin fibrous flaps, the sinewy and gristly portions, which are so often included in our roasts or broilings, which fill our plates with unsightly débris, and finally make an amount of blank waste for which we pay our butcher the same price that we pay for what we have eaten. The dead waste of our clumsy, coarse way of cutting meats is immense. For example, at the beginning of the present season, the part of a lamb denominated leg and loin, or hind-quarter, sold for thirty cents a pound. Now this includes, besides the thick, fleshy portions, a quantity of bone, sinew, and thin fibrous substance, constituting full one third of the whole weight. If we put it into the oven entire, in the usual manner, we have the thin parts overdone, and the skinny and fibrous parts utterly dried up, by the application of the amount of heat necessary to cook the thick portion. Supposing the joint to weigh six pounds, at thirty cents, and that one third of the weight is so treated as to become perfectly useless, we throw away sixty cents. Of a piece of beef at twenty-five cents a pound, fifty cents' worth is often lost in bone, fat, and burnt skin. The fact is, this way of selling and cooking meat in large, gross portions is of English origin, and belongs to a country where all the customs of society spring from a class who have no particular occasion for economy. The practice of minute and delicate division comes from a nation which acknowledges the need of economy, and has made it a study. A quarter of lamb in this mode of division would be sold in three nicely prepared portions. The thick part would be sold by itself, for a neat, compact little roast; the rib-bones would be artistically separated, and all the edible matters scraped away would form those delicate dishes of lamb-chop which, fried in bread-crumbs to a golden brown, are so ornamental and so palatable a side-dish; the trimmings which remain after this division would be destined to the soup kettle or stew pan. In a French market is a little portion for every purse, and the far-famed and delicately flavored soups and stews which have arisen out of French economy are a study worth a housekeeper's attention. Not one atom of food is wasted in the French modes of preparation; even tough animal cartilages and sinews, instead of appearing burnt and blackened in company with the roast meat to which they happen to be related, are treated according to their own laws, and come out either in savory soups, or those fine, clear meat-jellies which form a garnish no less agreeable to the eye than palatable to the taste. Whether this careful, economical, practical style of meat cooking can ever to any great extent be introduced into our kitchens now is a question. Our butchers are against it; our servants are wedded to the old wholesale wasteful ways, which seem to them easier because they are accustomed to them. A cook who will keep and properly tend a soup kettle which shall receive and utilize all that the coarse preparations of the butcher would require her to trim away, who understands the art of making the most of all these remains, is a treasure scarcely to be hoped for. If such things are to be done, it must be primarily through the educated brain of cultivated women who do not scorn to turn their culture and refinement upon domestic problems. When meats have been properly divided--so that each portion can receive its own appropriate style of treatment--next comes the consideration of the modes of cooking. These may be divided into two great general classes: those where it is desired to keep the juices within the meat, as in baking, broiling, and frying; and those whose object is to extract the juice and dissolve the fibre, as in the making of soups and stews. In the first class of operations, the process must be as rapid as may consist with the thorough cooking of all the particles. In this branch of cookery, doing quickly is doing well. The fire must be brisk, the attention alert. The introduction of cooking-stoves offers to careless domestics facilities for gradually drying up meats, and despoiling them of all flavor and nutriment,--facilities which appear to be very generally laid hold of. They have almost banished the genuine, old-fashioned roast meat from our tables, and left in its stead dried meats with their most precious and nutritive juices evaporated. How few cooks, unassisted, are competent to the simple process of broiling a beefsteak or mutton-chop! how very generally one has to choose between these meats gradually dried away, or burned on the outside and raw within! Yet in England these articles _never_ come on table done amiss; their perfect cooking is as absolute a certainty as the rising of the sun. No one of these rapid processes of cooking, however, is so generally abused as frying. The frying-pan has awful sins to answer for. What untold horrors of dyspepsia have arisen from its smoky depths, like the ghosts from witches' caldrons! The fizzle of frying meat is as a warning knell on many an ear, saying, "Touch not, taste not, if you would not burn and writhe!" Yet those who have traveled abroad remember that some of the lightest, most palatable, and most digestible preparations of meat have come from this dangerous source. But we fancy quite other rites and ceremonies inaugurated the process, and quite other hands performed its offices, than those known to our kitchens. Probably the delicate _côte-lettes_ of France are not flopped down into half-melted grease, there gradually to warm and soak and fizzle, while Biddy goes in and out on her other ministrations, till finally, when thoroughly saturated and dinner-hour impends, she bethinks herself, and crowds the fire below to a roaring heat, and finishes the process by a smart burn, involving the kitchen and surrounding precincts in volumes of Stygian gloom. From such preparations has arisen the very current medical opinion that fried meats are indigestible. They are indigestible if they are greasy; but French cooks have taught us that a thing has no more need to be greasy because emerging from grease than Venus had to be salt because she rose from the sea. There are two ways of frying employed by the French cook. One is, to immerse the article to be cooked in _boiling_ fat, with an emphasis on the present participle,--and the philosophical principle is, so immediately to crisp every pore at the first moment or two of immersion as effectually to seal the interior against the intrusion of greasy particles; it can then remain as long as may be necessary thoroughly to cook it, without imbibing any more of the boiling fluid than if it were enclosed in an eggshell. The other method is, to rub a perfectly smooth iron surface with just enough of some oily substance to prevent the meat from adhering, and cook it with a quick heat, as cakes are baked on a griddle. In both these cases there must be the most rapid application of heat that can be made without burning, and by the adroitness shown in working out this problem the skill of the cook is tested. Any one whose cook attains this important secret will find fried things quite as digestible and often more palatable than any other. In the second department of meat cookery, to wit, the slow and gradual application of heat for the softening and dissolution of its fibre and the extraction of its juices, common cooks are equally untrained. Where is the so-called cook who understands how to prepare soups and stews? These are precisely the articles in which a French kitchen excels. The soup kettle, made with a double bottom to prevent burning, is a permanent, ever-present institution, and the coarsest and most impracticable meats distilled through that alembic come out again in soups, jellies, or savory stews. The toughest cartilage, even the bones, being first cracked, are here made to give forth their hidden virtues, and to rise in delicate and appetizing forms. One great law governs all these preparations: the application of heat must be gradual, steady, long protracted, never reaching the point of active boiling. Hours of quiet simmering dissolve all dissoluble parts, soften the sternest fibre, and unlock every minute cell in which Nature has stored away her treasures of nourishment. This careful and protracted application of heat and the skillful use of flavors constitute the two main points in all those nice preparations of meat for which the French have so many names,--processes by which a delicacy can be imparted to the coarsest and cheapest food superior to that of the finest articles under less philosophic treatment. French soups and stews are a study, and they would not be an unprofitable one to any person who wishes to live with comfort and even elegance on small means. John Bull looks down from the sublime of ten thousand a year on French kickshaws, as he calls them: "Give me my meat cooked so I may know what it is!" An ox roasted whole is dear to John's soul, and his kitchen arrangements are Titanic. What magnificent rounds and sirloins of beef, revolving on self-regulating spits, with a rich click of satisfaction, before grates piled with roaring fires! Let us do justice to the royal cheer. Nowhere are the charms of pure, unadulterated animal food set forth in more imposing style. For John is rich, and what does he care for odds and ends and parings? Has he not all the beasts of the forest, and the cattle on a thousand hills? What does he want of economy? But his brother Jean has not ten thousand pounds a year,--nothing like it; but he makes up for the slenderness of his purse by boundless fertility of invention and delicacy of practice. John began sneering at Jean's soups and ragouts, but all John's modern sons and daughters send to Jean for their cooks, and the sirloins of England rise up and do obeisance to this Joseph with a white apron who comes to rule in their kitchens. There is no animal fibre that will not yield itself up to long-continued, steady heat. But the difficulty with almost any of the common servants who call themselves cooks is, that they have not the smallest notion of the philosophy of the application of heat. Such a one will complacently tell you, concerning certain meats, that the harder you boil them the harder they grow,--an obvious fact, which, under her mode of treatment by an indiscriminate galloping boil, has frequently come under her personal observation. If you tell her that such meat must stand for six hours in a heat just below the boiling-point, she will probably answer, "Yes, ma'am," and go on her own way. Or she will let it stand till it burns to the bottom of the kettle,--a most common termination of the experiment. The only way to make sure of the matter is either to import a French kettle, or to fit into an ordinary kettle a false bottom, such as any tinman may make, that shall leave a space of an inch or two between the meat and the fire. This kettle may be maintained as a constant _habitué_ of the range, and into it the cook may be instructed to throw all the fibrous trimmings of meat, all the gristle, tendons, and bones, having previously broken up these last with a mallet. Such a kettle will furnish the basis for clear, rich soups or other palatable dishes. Clear soup consists of the dissolved juices of the meat and gelatine of the bones, cleared from the fat and fibrous portions by straining when cold. The grease, which rises to the top of the fluid, may thus be easily removed. In a stew, on the contrary, you boil down this soup till it permeates the fibre which long exposure to heat has softened. All that remains, after the proper preparation of the fibre and juices, is the flavoring, and it is in this, particularly, that French soups excel those of America and England and all the world. English and American soups are often heavy and hot with spices. There are appreciable tastes in them. They burn your mouth with cayenne or clove or allspice. You can tell at once what is in them, oftentimes to your sorrow. But a French soup has a flavor which one recognises at once as delicious, yet not to be characterized as due to any single condiment; it is the just blending of many things. The same remark applies to all their stews, ragouts, and other delicate preparations. No cook will ever study these flavors; but perhaps many cooks' mistresses may, and thus be able to impart delicacy and comfort to economy. As to those things called hashes, commonly manufactured by unwatched, untaught cooks, out of the remains of yesterday's repast, let us not dwell too closely on their memory,--compounds of meat, gristle, skin, fat, and burnt fibre, with a handful of pepper and salt flung at them, dredged with lumpy flour, watered from the spout of the tea-kettle, and left to simmer at the cook's convenience while she is otherwise occupied. Such are the best performances a housekeeper can hope for from an untrained cook. But the cunningly devised minces, the artful preparations choicely flavored, which may be made of yesterday's repast,--by these is the true domestic artist known. No cook untaught by an educated brain ever makes these, and yet economy is a great gainer by them. * * * * * As regards the department of _Vegetables_, their number and variety in America are so great that a table might almost be furnished by these alone. Generally speaking, their cooking is a more simple art, and therefore more likely to be found satisfactorily performed, than that of meats. If only they are not drenched with rancid butter, their own native excellence makes itself known in most of the ordinary modes of preparation. There is, however, one exception. Our stanch old friend the potato is to other vegetables what bread is on the table. Like bread, it is held as a sort of _sine qua non_; like that, it may be made invariably palatable by a little care in a few plain particulars, through neglect of which it often becomes intolerable. The soggy, waxy, indigestible viand that often appears in the potato-dish is a downright sacrifice of the better nature of this vegetable. The potato, nutritive and harmless as it appears, belongs to a family suspected of very dangerous traits. It is a family connection of the deadly nightshade and other ill-reputed gentry, and sometimes shows strange proclivities to evil,--now breaking out uproariously, as in the noted potato rot, and now more covertly in various evil affections. For this reason, scientific directors bid us beware of the water in which potatoes are boiled,--into which, it appears, the evil principle is drawn off; and they caution us not to shred them into stews without previously suffering the slices to lie for an hour or so in salt and water. These cautions are worth attention. The most usual modes of preparing the potato for the table are by roasting or boiling. These processes are so simple that it is commonly supposed every cook understands them without special directions, and yet there is scarcely an uninstructed cook who can boil or roast a potato. A good roasted potato is a delicacy worth a dozen compositions of the cook-book; yet when we ask for it, what burnt, shriveled abortions are presented to us! Biddy rushes to her potato-basket and pours out two dozen of different sizes, some having in them three times the amount of matter of others. These being washed, she tumbles them into her oven at a leisure interval, and there lets them lie till it is time to serve breakfast, whenever that may be. As a result, if the largest are cooked, the smallest are presented in cinders, and the intermediate sizes are withered and watery. Nothing is so utterly ruined by a few moments of overdoing. That which at the right moment was plump with mealy richness, a quarter of an hour later shrivels and becomes watery,--and it is in this state that roast potatoes are most frequently served. In the same manner we have seen boiled potatoes from an untaught cook coming upon the table like lumps of yellow wax,--and the same article, the day after, under the directions of a skillful mistress, appearing in snowy balls of powdery lightness. In the one case, they were thrown in their skins into water and suffered to soak or boil, as the case might be, at the cook's leisure, and, after they were boiled, to stand in the water till she was ready to peel them. In the other case, the potatoes being first peeled were boiled as quickly as possible in salted water, which, the moment they were done, was drained off, and then they were gently shaken for a minute or two over the fire to dry them still more thoroughly. We have never yet seen the potato so depraved and given over to evil that could not be reclaimed by this mode of treatment. As to fried potatoes, who that remembers the crisp, golden slices of the French restaurant, thin as wafers and light as snowflakes, does not speak respectfully of them? What cousinship with these have those coarse, greasy masses of sliced potato, wholly soggy and partly burnt, to which we are treated under the name of fried potatoes à la America? In our cities the restaurants are introducing the French article to great acceptance, and to the vindication of the fair fame of this queen of vegetables. * * * * * Finally, I arrive at the last great head of my subject, to wit, _Tea_,--meaning thereby, as before observed, what our Hibernian friend did in the inquiry, "Will y'r Honor take 'tay tay' or 'coffee tay'?" I am not about to enter into the merits of the great tea and coffee controversy, or say whether these substances are or are not wholesome. I treat of them as actual existences, and speak only of the modes of making the most of them. The French coffee is reputed the best in the world; and a thousand voices have asked, What is it about the French coffee? In the first place, then, the French coffee is coffee, and not chicory, or rye, or beans, or peas. In the second place, it is freshly roasted, whenever made,--roasted with great care and evenness in a little revolving cylinder which makes part of the furniture of every kitchen, and which keeps in the aroma of the berry. It is never overdone, so as to destroy the coffee flavor, which is in nine cases out of ten the fault of the coffee we meet with. Then it is ground, and placed in a coffee-pot with a filter, through which it percolates in clear drops--the coffee-pot standing on a heated stove to maintain the temperature. The nose of the coffee-pot is stopped up to prevent the escape of the aroma during this process. The extract thus obtained is a perfectly clear, dark fluid, know as _café noir_, or black coffee. It is black only because of its strength, being in fact almost the very essential oil of coffee. A tablespoonful of this in boiled milk would make what is ordinarily called a strong cup of coffee. The boiled milk is prepared with no less care. It must be fresh and new, not merely warmed or even brought to the boiling point, but slowly simmered till it attains a thick, creamy richness. The coffee mixed with this, and sweetened with that sparkling beet-root sugar which ornaments a French table, is the celebrated _café-au-lait_, the name of which has gone round the world. As we look to France for the best coffee, so we must look to England for the perfection of tea. The tea-kettle is as much an English institution as aristocracy or the Prayer Book; and when one wants to know exactly how tea should be made, one has only to ask how a fine old English housekeeper makes it. The first article of her faith is, that the water must not merely be hot, not merely _have boiled_ a few moments since, but be actually _boiling_ at the moment it touches the tea. Hence, though servants in England are vastly better trained than with us, this delicate mystery is seldom left to their hands. Tea making belongs to the drawing-room, and high-born ladies preside at "the bubbling and loud-hissing urn," and see that all due rites and solemnities are properly performed,--that the cups are hot, and that the infused tea waits the exact time before the libations commence. Oh, ye dear old English tea-tables, resorts of the kindest-hearted hospitality in the world! we still cherish your memory, even though you do not say pleasant things of us there. One of these days you will think better of us. Of late, the introduction of English breakfast tea has raised a new sect among the tea drinkers, reversing some of the old canons. Breakfast tea must be boiled! Unlike the delicate article of olden time, which required only a momentary infusion to develop its richness, this requires a longer and severer treatment to bring out its strength,--thus confusing all the established usages, and throwing the work into the hands of the cook in the kitchen. The faults of tea, as too commonly found at our hotels and boarding-houses, are that it is made in every way the reverse of what it should be. The water is hot, perhaps, but not boiling; the tea has a general flat, stale, smoky taste, devoid of life or spirit; and it is served, usually, with thin milk instead of cream. Cream is as essential to the richness of tea as of coffee. We could wish that the English fashion might generally prevail, of giving the traveler his own kettle of boiling water and his own tea-chest, and letting him make tea for himself. At all events he would then be sure of one merit in his tea,--it would be hot, a very simple and obvious virtue, but one very seldom obtained. Chocolate is a French and Spanish article, and one seldom served on American tables. We in America, however, make an article every way equal to any which can be imported from Paris, and he who buys Baker's best vanilla-chocolate may rest assured that no foreign land can furnish anything better. A very rich and delicious beverage may be made by dissolving this in milk slowly boiled down after the French fashion. * * * * * I have now gone over all the ground I laid out, as comprising the great first principles of cookery; and I would here modestly offer the opinion that a table where all these principles are carefully observed would need few dainties. The struggle after so-called delicacies comes from the poorness of common things. Perfect bread and butter would soon drive cake out of the field; it has done so in many families. Nevertheless, I have a word to say under the head of _Confectionery_, meaning by this the whole range of ornamental cookery,--or pastry, ices, jellies, preserves, etc. The art of making all these very perfectly is far better understood in America than the art of common cooking. There are more women who know how to make good cake than good bread,--more who can furnish you with a good ice-cream than a well-cooked mutton-chop; a fair charlotte-russe is easier to come by than a perfect cup of coffee; and you shall find a sparkling jelly to your dessert where you sighed in vain for so simple a luxury as a well-cooked potato. Our fair countrywomen might rest upon their laurels in these higher fields, and turn their great energy and ingenuity to the study of essentials. To do common things perfectly is far better worth our endeavor than to do uncommon things respectably. We Americans in many things as yet have been a little inclined to begin making our shirt at the ruffle; but nevertheless, when we set about it, we can make the shirt as nicely as anybody,--it needs only that we turn our attention to it, resolved that, ruffle or no ruffle, the shirt we will have. I have also a few words to say as to the prevalent ideas in respect to French cookery. Having heard much of it, with no very distinct idea what it is, our people have somehow fallen into the notion that its forte lies in high spicing,--and so, when our cooks put a great abundance of clove, mace, nutmeg, and cinnamon into their preparations, they fancy that they are growing up to be French cooks. But the fact is, that the Americans and English are far more given to spicing than the French. Spices in our made dishes are abundant, and their taste is strongly pronounced. In living a year in France I forgot the taste of nutmeg, clove, and allspice, which had met me in so many dishes in America. The thing may be briefly defined. The English and Americans deal in _spices_, the French in _flavors_,--flavors many and subtile, imitating often in their delicacy those subtile blendings which Nature produces in high-flavored fruits. The recipes of our cookery-books are most of them of English origin, coming down from the times of our phlegmatic ancestors, when the solid, burly, beefy growth of the foggy island required the heat of fiery condiments, and could digest heavy sweets. Witness the national recipe for plum-pudding, which may be rendered: Take a pound of every indigestible substance you can think of, boil into a cannon-ball, and serve in flaming brandy. So of the Christmas mince-pie and many other national dishes. But in America, owing to our brighter skies and more fervid climate, we have developed an acute, nervous delicacy of temperament far more akin to that of France than of England. Half of the recipes in our cook-books are mere murder to such constitutions and stomachs as we grow here. We require to ponder these things, and think how we in our climate and under our circumstances ought to live, and, in doing so, we may, without accusation of foreign foppery, take some leaves from many foreign books. * * * * * But Christopher has prosed long enough. I must now read this to my wife, and see what she says. XI OUR HOUSE Our gallant Bob Stephens, into whose lifeboat our Marianne has been received, has lately taken the mania of housebuilding into his head. Bob is somewhat fastidious, difficult to please, fond of domesticities and individualities; and such a man never can fit himself into a house built by another, and accordingly housebuilding has always been his favorite mental recreation. During all his courtship, as much time was taken up in planning a future house as if he had money to build one; and all Marianne's patterns, and the backs of half their letters, were scrawled with ground-plans and elevations. But latterly this chronic disposition has been quickened into an acute form by the falling-in of some few thousands to their domestic treasury,--left as the sole residuum of a painstaking old aunt, who took it into her head to make a will in Bob's favor, leaving, among other good things, a nice little bit of land in a rural district half an hour's railroad ride from Boston. So now ground-plans thicken, and my wife is being consulted morning, noon, and night; and I never come into the room without finding their heads close together over a paper, and hearing Bob expatiate on his favorite idea of a library. He appears to have got so far as this, that the ceiling is to be of carved oak, with ribs running to a boss overhead, and finished mediævally with ultramarine blue and gilding,--and then away he goes sketching Gothic patterns of bookshelves which require only experienced carvers, and the wherewithal to pay them, to be the divinest things in the world. Marianne is exercised about china-closets and pantries, and about a bedroom on the ground-floor,--for, like all other women of our days, she expects not to have strength enough to run upstairs oftener than once or twice a week; and my wife, who is a native genius in this line, and has planned in her time dozens of houses for acquaintances, wherein they are at this moment living happily, goes over every day with her pencil and ruler the work of rearranging the plans, according as the ideas of the young couple veer and vary. One day Bob is importuned to give two feet off from his library for a closet in the bedroom, but resists like a Trojan. The next morning, being mollified by private domestic supplications, Bob yields, and my wife rubs out the lines of yesterday, two feet come off the library, and a closet is constructed. But now the parlor proves too narrow,--the parlor wall must be moved two feet into the hall. Bob declares this will spoil the symmetry of the latter; and, if there is anything he wants, it is a wide, generous, ample hall to step into when you open the front door. "Well, then," says Marianne, "let's put two feet more into the width of the house." "Can't on account of the expense, you see," says Bob. "You see every additional foot of outside wall necessitates so many more bricks, so much more flooring, so much more roofing, etc." And my wife, with thoughtful brow, looks over the plans, and considers how two feet more are to be got into the parlor without moving any of the walls. "I say," says Bob, bending over her shoulder, "here, take your two feet in the parlor, and put two more feet on to the other side of the hall stairs;" and he dashes heavily with his pencil. "Oh, Bob!" exclaims Marianne, "there are the kitchen pantries! you ruin them,--and no place for the cellar stairs!" "Hang the pantries and cellar stairs!" says Bob. "Mother must find a place for them somewhere else. I say the house must be roomy and cheerful, and pantries and those things may take care of themselves; they can be put _somewhere_ well enough. No fear but you will find a place for them somewhere. What do you women always want such a great enormous kitchen for?" "It is not any larger than is necessary," said my wife, thoughtfully; "nothing is gained by taking off from it." "What if you should put it all down into a basement," suggests Bob, "and so get it all out of sight together?" "Never, if it can be helped," said my wife. "Basement kitchens are necessary evils, only to be tolerated in cities where land is too dear to afford any other." So goes the discussion till the trio agree to sleep over it. The next morning an inspiration visits my wife's pillow. She is up and seizes plans and paper, and, before six o'clock, has enlarged the parlor very cleverly by throwing out a bow-window. So waxes and wanes the prospective house, innocently battered down and rebuilt with India-rubber and black-lead. Doors are cut out to-night and walled up to-morrow; windows knocked out here and put in there, as some observer suggests possibilities of too much or too little draught. Now all seems finished, when, lo! a discovery! There is no fireplace nor stove-flue in my lady's bedroom, and can be none without moving the bathing-room. Pencil and India-rubber are busy again, and for a while the whole house seems to threaten to fall to pieces with the confusion of the moving; the bath-room wanders like a ghost, now invading a closet, now threatening the tranquillity of the parlor, till at last it is laid, by some unheard-of calculations of my wife's, and sinks to rest in a place so much better that everybody wonders it never was thought of before. "Papa," said Jenny, "it appears to me people don't exactly know what they want when they build; why don't you write a paper on housebuilding?" "I have thought of it," said I, with the air of a man called to settle some great reform. "It must be entirely because Christopher has not written that our young people and mamma are tangling themselves daily in webs which are untangled the next day." "You see," said Jenny, "they have only just so much money, and they want everything they can think of under the sun. There's Bob been studying architectural antiquities, and nobody knows what, and sketching all sorts of curly-whorlies; and Marianne has her notions about a parlor and boudoir and china closets and bedroom closets; and Bob wants a baronial hall; and mamma stands out for linen closets and bathing-rooms and all that; and so, among them all it will just end in getting them head over ears in debt." The thing struck me as not improbable. "I don't know, Jenny, whether my writing an article is going to prevent all this; but as my time in the 'Atlantic' is coming round, I may as well write on what I am obliged to think of, and so I will give a paper on the subject to enliven our next evening's session." So that evening, when Bob and Marianne had dropped in as usual, and while the customary work of drawing and rubbing out was going on at Mrs. Crowfield's sofa, I produced my paper and read as follows:-- OUR HOUSE There is a place, called "our house," which everybody knows of. The sailor talks of it in his dreams at sea. The wounded soldier, turning in his uneasy hospital-bed, brightens at the word; it is like the dropping of cool water in the desert, like the touch of cool fingers on a burning brow. "Our house," he says feebly, and the light comes back into his dim eyes; for all homely charities, all fond thoughts, all purities, all that man loves on earth or hopes for in heaven, rise with the word. "Our house" may be in any style of architecture, low or high. It may be the brown old farmhouse, with its tall wellsweep, or the one-story gambrel-roofed cottage, or the large, square, white house, with green blinds, under the wind-swung elms of a century; or it may be the log-cabin of the wilderness, with its one room,--still there is a spell in the memory of it beyond all conjurations. Its stone and brick and mortar are like no other; its very clapboards and shingles are dear to us, powerful to bring back the memories of early days and all that is sacred in home love. * * * * * "Papa is getting quite sentimental," whispered Jenny, loud enough for me to hear. I shook my head at her impressively, and went on undaunted. * * * * * There is no one fact of our human existence that has a stronger influence upon us than the house we dwell in, especially that in which our earlier and more impressible years are spent. The building and arrangement of a house influence the health, the comfort, the morals, the religion. There have been houses built so devoid of all consideration for the occupants, so rambling and haphazard in the disposal of rooms, so sunless and cheerless and wholly without snugness or privacy, as to make it seem impossible to live a joyous, generous, rational, religious family life in them. There are, we shame to say, in our cities _things_ called houses, built and rented by people who walk erect and have the general air and manner of civilized and Christianized men, which are so inhuman in their building that they can only be called snares and traps for souls,--places where children cannot well escape growing up filthy and impure; places where to form a home is impossible, and to live a decent, Christian life would require miraculous strength. A celebrated British philanthropist, who had devoted much study to the dwellings of the poor, gave it as his opinion that the temperance societies were a hopeless undertaking in London unless these dwellings underwent a transformation. They were so squalid, so dark, so comfortless, so constantly pressing upon the senses foulness, pain, and inconvenience, that it was only by being drugged with gin and opium that their miserable inhabitants could find heart to drag on life from day to day. He had himself tried the experiment of reforming a drunkard by taking him from one of these loathsome dens, and enabling him to rent a tenement in a block of model lodging-houses which had been built under his supervision. The young man had been a designer of figures for prints; he was of a delicate frame, and a nervous, susceptible temperament. Shut in one miserable room with his wife and little children, without the possibility of pure air, with only filthy, fetid water to drink, with the noise of other miserable families resounding through the thin partitions, what possibility was there of doing anything except by the help of stimulants, which for a brief hour lifted him above the perception of these miseries? Changed at once to a neat flat, where, for the same rent as his former den, he had three good rooms, with water for drinking, house-service, and bathing freely supplied, and the blessed sunshine and air coming in through windows well arranged for ventilation, he became in a few weeks a new man. In the charms of the little spot which he could call home, its quiet, its order, his former talent came back to him, and he found strength, in pure air and pure water and those purer thoughts of which they are the emblems, to abandon burning and stupefying stimulants. The influence of dwelling-houses for good or for evil--their influence on the brain, the nerves, and, through these, on the heart and life--is one of those things that cannot be enough pondered by those who build houses to sell or rent. Something more generous ought to inspire a man than merely the percentage which he can get for his money. He who would build houses should think a little on the subject. He should reflect what houses are for, what they may be made to do for human beings. The great majority of houses in cities are not built by the indwellers themselves; they are built for them by those who invest their money in this way, with little other thought than the percentage which the investment will return. For persons of ample fortune there are, indeed, palatial residences, with all that wealth can do to render life delightful. But in that class of houses which must be the lot of the large majority, those which must be chosen by young men in the beginning of life, when means are comparatively restricted, there is yet wide room for thought and the judicious application of money. In looking over houses to be rented by persons of moderate means, one cannot help longing to build,--one sees so many ways in which the same sum which built an inconvenient and unpleasant house might have been made to build a delightful one. * * * * * "That's so!" said Bob with emphasis. "Don't you remember, Marianne, how many dismal, commonplace, shabby houses we trailed through?" "Yes," said Marianne. "You remember those houses with such little squeezed rooms and that flourishing staircase, with the colored-glass china-closet window, and no butler's sink?" "Yes," said Bob; "and those astonishing, abominable stone abortions that adorned the doorsteps. People do lay out a deal of money to make houses look ugly, it must be confessed." "One would willingly," said Marianne, "dispense with frightful stone ornaments in front, and with heavy mouldings inside, which are of no possible use or beauty, and with showy plaster cornices and centrepieces in the parlor ceilings, and even with marble mantels, for the luxury of hot and cold water in each chamber, and a couple of comfortable bath-rooms. Then, the disposition of windows and doors is so wholly without regard to convenience! How often we find rooms, meant for bedrooms, where really there is no good place for either bed or dressing-table!" Here my wife looked up, having just finished redrawing the plans to the latest alteration. "One of the greatest reforms that could be, in these reforming days," she observed, "would be to have women architects. The mischief with houses built to rent is that they are all mere male contrivances. No woman would ever plan chambers where there is no earthly place to set a bed except against a window or door, or waste the room in entries that might be made into closets. I don't see, for my part, apropos to the modern movement for opening new professions to the female sex, why there should not be well-educated female architects. The planning and arrangement of houses, and the laying-out of grounds, are a fair subject of womanly knowledge and taste. It is the teaching of Nature. What would anybody think of a bluebird's nest that had been built entirely by Mr. Blue, without the help of his wife?" "My dear," said I, "you must positively send a paper on this subject to the next Woman's Rights Convention." "I am of Sojourner Truth's opinion," said my wife,--"that the best way to prove the propriety of one's doing anything is to go and _do it_. A woman who should have energy to grow through the preparatory studies and set to work in this field would, I am sure, soon find employment." "If she did as well as you would do, my dear," said I. "There are plenty of young women in our Boston high schools who are going through higher fields of mathematics than are required by the architect, and the schools for design show the flexibility and fertility of the female pencil. The thing appears to me altogether more feasible than many other openings which have been suggested to woman." "Well," said Jenny, "isn't papa ever to go on with his paper?" * * * * * I continued:-- * * * * * What ought "our house" to be? Could any other question be asked admitting in its details of such varied answers,--answers various as the means, the character, and situation of different individuals? But there are great wants, pertaining to every human being, into which all lesser ones run. There are things in a house that every one, high or low, rich or poor, ought, according to his means, to seek. I think I shall class them according to the elemental division of the old philosophers: Fire, Air, Earth, and Water. These form the groundwork of this _need-be_,--the _sine-qua-nons_ of a house. * * * * * "Fire, air, earth, and water! I don't understand," said Jenny. "Wait a little till you do, then," said I. "I will try to make my meaning plain." * * * * * The first object of a house is shelter from the elements. This object is effected by a tent or wigwam which keeps off rain and wind. The first disadvantage of this shelter is, that the vital air which you take into your lungs, and on the purity of which depends the purity of blood and brain and nerves, is vitiated. In the wigwam or tent you are constantly taking in poison, more or less active, with every inspiration. Napoleon had his army sleep without tents. He stated that from experience he found it more healthy, and wonderful have been the instances of delicate persons gaining constantly in rigor from being obliged, in the midst of hardships, to sleep constantly in the open air. Now the first problem in housebuilding is to combine the advantage of shelter with the fresh elasticity of outdoor air. I am not going to give here a treatise on ventilation, but merely to say, in general terms, that the first object of a house builder or contriver should be to make a healthy house; and the first requisite of a healthy house is a pure, sweet, elastic air. I am in favor, therefore, of those plans of housebuilding which have wide central spaces, whether halls or courts, into which all the rooms open, and which necessarily preserve a body of fresh air for the use of them all. In hot climates this is the object of the central court which cuts into the body of the house, with its fountain and flowers, and its galleries, into which the various apartments open. When people are restricted for space, and cannot afford to give up wide central portions of the house for the mere purposes of passage, this central hall can be made a pleasant sitting-room. With tables, chairs, bookcases, and sofas comfortably disposed, this ample central room above and below is, in many respects, the most agreeable lounging room of the house; while the parlors below and the chambers above, opening upon it, form agreeable withdrawing rooms for purposes of greater privacy. It is customary with many persons to sleep with bedroom windows open,--a very imperfect and often dangerous mode of procuring that supply of fresh air which a sleeping-room requires. In a house constructed in the manner indicated, windows might be freely left open in these central halls, producing there a constant movement of air, and the doors of the bedrooms placed ajar, when a very slight opening in the windows would create a free circulation through the apartments. In the planning of a house, thought should be had as to the general disposition of the windows, and the quarters from which favoring breezes may be expected should be carefully considered. Windows should be so arranged that draughts of air can be thrown quite through and across the house. How often have we seen pale mothers and drooping babes fanning and panting during some of our hot days on the sunny side of a house, while the breeze that should have cooled them beat in vain against a dead wall! One longs sometimes to knock holes through partitions, and let in the air of heaven. No other gift of God so precious, so inspiring, is treated with such utter irreverence and contempt in the calculations of us mortals as this same air of heaven. A sermon on oxygen, if one had a preacher who understood the subject, might do more to repress sin than the most orthodox discourse to show when and how and why sin came. A minister gets up in a crowded lecture-room, where the mephitic air almost makes the candles burn blue, and bewails the deadness of the church,--the church the while, drugged by the poisoned air, growing sleepier and sleepier, though they feel dreadfully wicked for being so. Little Jim, who, fresh from his afternoon's ramble in the fields, last evening said his prayers dutifully, and lay down to sleep in a most Christian frame, this morning sits up in bed with his hair bristling with crossness, strikes at his nurse, and declares he won't say his prayers,--that he don't want to be good. The simple difference is, that the child, having slept in a close box of a room, his brain all night fed by poison, is in a mild state of moral insanity. Delicate women remark that it takes them till eleven or twelve o'clock to get up their strength in the morning. Query: Do they sleep with closed windows and doors, and with heavy bed-curtains? The houses built by our ancestors were better ventilated in certain respects than modern ones, with all their improvements. The great central chimney, with its open fireplaces in the different rooms, created a constant current which carried off foul and vitiated air. In these days, how common is it to provide rooms with only a flue for a stove! This flue is kept shut in summer, and in winter opened only to admit a close stove, which burns away the vital portion of the air quite as fast as the occupants breathe it away. The sealing up of fireplaces and introduction of air-tight stoves may, doubtless, be a saving of fuel; it saves, too, more than that,--in thousands and thousands of cases it has saved people from all further human wants, and put an end forever to any needs short of the six feet of narrow earth which are man's only inalienable property. In other words, since the invention of air-tight stoves, thousands have died of slow poison. It is a terrible thing to reflect upon, that our Northern winters last from November to May, six long months, in which many families confine themselves to one room, of which every window-crack has been carefully calked to make it air-tight, where an air-tight stove keeps the atmosphere at a temperature between eighty and ninety, and the inmates sitting there, with all their winter clothes on, become enervated both by the heat and by the poisoned air, for which there is no escape but the occasional opening of a door. It is no wonder that the first result of all this is such a delicacy of skin and lungs that about half the inmates are obliged to give up going into the open air during the six cold months, because they invariably catch cold if they do so. It is no wonder that the cold caught about the first of December has by the first of March become a fixed consumption, and that the opening of the spring, which ought to bring life and health, in so many cases brings death. We hear of the lean condition in which the poor bears emerge from their six months' wintering, during which they subsist on the fat which they have acquired the previous summer. Even so, in our long winters, multitudes of delicate people subsist on the daily waning strength which they acquired in the season when windows and doors were open, and fresh air was a constant luxury. No wonder we hear of spring fever and spring biliousness, and have thousands of nostrums for clearing the blood in the spring. All these things are the pantings and palpitations of a system run down under slow poison, unable to get a step farther. Better, far better, the old houses of the olden time, with their great roaring fires, and their bedrooms where the snow came in and the wintry winds whistled. Then, to be sure, you froze your back while you burned your face; your water froze nightly in your pitcher; your breath congealed in ice-wreaths on the blankets; and you could write your name on the pretty snow-wreath that had sifted in through the window-cracks. But you woke full of life and vigor,--you looked out into the whirling snowstorms without a shiver, and thought nothing of plunging through drifts as high as your head on your daily way to school. You jingled in sleighs, you snowballed, you lived in snow like a snowbird, and your blood coursed and tingled, in full tide of good, merry, real life, through your veins,--none of the slow-creeping, black blood which clogs the brain and lies like a weight on the vital wheels! "Mercy upon us, papa!" said Jenny, "I hope we need not go back to such houses?" "No, my dear," I replied. "I only said that such houses were better than those which are all winter closed by double windows and burnt-out air-tight stoves." * * * * * The perfect house is one in which there is a constant escape of every foul and vitiated particle of air through one opening, while a constant supply of fresh outdoor air is admitted by another. In winter, this outdoor air must pass through some process by which it is brought up to a temperate warmth. Take a single room, and suppose on one side a current of outdoor air which has been warmed by passing through the air chamber of a modern furnace. Its temperature need not be above sixty-five,--it answers breathing purposes better at that. On the other side of the room let there be an open wood or coal fire. One cannot conceive the purposes of warmth and ventilation more perfectly combined. Suppose a house with a great central hall, into which a current of fresh, temperately warmed air is continually pouring. Each chamber opening upon this hall has a chimney up whose flue the rarefied air is constantly passing, drawing up with it all the foul and poisonous gases. That house is well ventilated, and in a way that need bring no dangerous draughts upon the most delicate invalid. For the better securing of privacy in sleeping-rooms, we have seen two doors employed, one of which is made with slats, like a window-blind, so that air is freely transmitted without exposing the interior. When we speak of fresh air, we insist on the full rigor of the term. It must not be the air of a cellar, heavily laden with the poisonous nitrogen of turnips and cabbages, but good, fresh, outdoor air from a cold-air pipe, so placed as not to get the lower stratum near the ground, where heavy damps and exhalations collect, but high up, in just the clearest and most elastic region. The conclusion of the whole matter is, that as all of man's and woman's peace and comfort, all their love, all their amiability, all their religion, have got to come to them, while they live in this world, through the medium of the brain,--and as black, uncleansed blood acts on the brain as a poison, and as no other than black, uncleansed blood can be got by the lungs out of impure air,--the first object of the man who builds a house is to secure a pure and healthy atmosphere therein. Therefore, in allotting expenses, set this down as a _must-be_: "Our house must have fresh air,--everywhere, at all times, winter and summer." Whether we have stone facings or no; whether our parlor has cornices or marble mantles or no; whether our doors are machine-made or hand-made. All our fixtures shall be of the plainest and simplest, but we will have fresh air. We will open our door with a latch and string, if we cannot afford lock and knob and fresh air too; but in our house we will live cleanly and Christianly. We will no more breathe the foul air rejected from a neighbor's lungs than we will use a neighbor's tooth-brush and hair-brush. Such is the first essential of "our house,"--the first great element of human health and happiness,--AIR. * * * * * "I say, Marianne," said Bob, "have we got fireplaces in our chambers?" "Mamma took care of that," said Marianne. "You may be quite sure," said I, "if your mother has had a hand in planning your house, that the ventilation is cared for." It must be confessed that Bob's principal idea in a house had been a Gothic library, and his mind had labored more on the possibility of adapting some favorite bits from the baronial antiquities to modern needs than on anything so terrestrial as air. Therefore he awoke as from a dream, and taking two or three monstrous inhalations, he seized the plans and began looking over them with new energy. Meanwhile I went on with my prelection. The second great vital element for which provision must be made in "our house" is FIRE. By which I do not mean merely artificial fire, but fire in all its extent and branches,--the heavenly fire which God sends us daily on the bright wings of sunbeams, as well as the mimic fires by which we warm our dwellings, cook our food, and light our nightly darkness. To begin, then, with heavenly fire or sunshine. If God's gift of vital air is neglected and undervalued, His gift of sunshine appears to be hated. There are many houses where not a cent has been expended on ventilation, but where hundreds of dollars have been freely lavished to keep out the sunshine. The chamber, truly, is tight as a box; it has no fireplace, not even a ventilator opening into the stove-flue; but, oh, joy and gladness! it has outside blinds and inside folding-shutters, so that in the brightest of days we may create there a darkness that may be felt. To observe the generality of New England houses, a spectator might imagine they were planned for the torrid zone, where the great object is to keep out a furnace draught of burning air. But let us look over the months of our calendar. In which of them do we not need fires on our hearths? We will venture to say that from October to June all families, whether they actually have it or not, would be the more comfortable for a morning and evening fire. For eight months in the year the weather varies on the scale of cool, cold, colder, and freezing; and for all the four other months what is the number of days that really require the torrid-zone system of shutting up houses? We all know that extreme heat is the exception, and not the rule. Yet let anybody travel, as I did last year, through the valley of the Connecticut, and observe the houses. All clean and white and neat and well-to-do, with their turfy yards and their breezy great elms, but all shut up from basement to attic, as if the inmates had all sold out and gone to China. Not a window-blind open above or below. Is the house inhabited? No,--yes,--there is a faint stream of blue smoke from the kitchen chimney, and half a window-blind open in some distant back part of the house. They are living there in the dim shadows, bleaching like potato-sprouts in the cellar. * * * * * "I can tell you why they do it, papa," said Jenny. "It's the flies, and flies are certainly worthy to be one of the plagues of Egypt. I can't myself blame people that shut up their rooms and darken their houses in fly-time,--do you, mamma?" "Not in extreme cases; though I think there is but a short season when this is necessary; yet the habit of shutting up lasts the year round, and gives to New England villages that dead, silent, cold, uninhabited look which is so peculiar." "The one fact that a traveler would gather in passing through our villages would be this," said I, "that the people live in their houses and in the dark. Barely do you see doors and windows open, people sitting at them, chairs in the yard, and signs that the inhabitants are living out-of-doors." "Well," said Jenny, "I have told you why, for I have been at Uncle Peter's in summer, and aunt does her spring-cleaning in May, and then she shuts all the blinds and drops all the curtains, and the house stays clean till October. That's the whole of it. If she had all her windows open, there would be paint and windows to be cleaned every week; and who is to do it? For my part, I can't much blame her." "Well," said I, "I have my doubts about the sovereign efficacy of living in the dark, even if the great object of existence were to be rid of flies. I remember, during this same journey, stopping for a day or two at a country boarding-house, which was dark as Egypt from cellar to garret. The long, dim, gloomy dining-room was first closed by outside blinds, and then by impenetrable paper curtains, notwithstanding which it swarmed and buzzed like a beehive. You found where the cake plate was by the buzz which your hand made, if you chanced to reach in that direction. It was disagreeable, because in the darkness flies could not always be distinguished from huckleberries; and I couldn't help wishing, that, since we must have the flies, we might at last have the light and air to console us under them. People darken their rooms and shut up every avenue of outdoor enjoyment, and sit and think of nothing but flies; in fact, flies are all they have left. No wonder they become morbid on the subject." "Well now, papa talks just like a man, doesn't he?" said Jenny. "He hasn't the responsibility of keeping things clean. I wonder what he would do, if he were a housekeeper." "Do? I will tell you. I would do the best I could. I would shut my eyes on fly-specks, and open them on the beauties of Nature. I would let the cheerful sun in all day long, in all but the few summer days when coolness is the one thing needful: those days may be soon numbered every year. I would make a calculation in the spring how much it would cost to hire a woman to keep my windows and paint clean, and I would do with one less gown and have her; and when I had spent all I could afford on cleaning windows and paint, I would harden my heart and turn off my eyes, and enjoy my sunshine and my fresh air, my breezes, and all that can be seen through the picture windows of an open, airy house, and snap my fingers at the flies. There you have it." "Papa's hobby is sunshine," said Marianne. "Why shouldn't it be? Was God mistaken, when He made the sun? Did He make him for us to hold a life's battle with? Is that vital power which reddens the cheek of the peach and pours sweetness through the fruits and flowers of no use to us? Look at plants that grow without sun,--wan, pale, long-visaged, holding feeble, imploring hands of supplication towards the light. Can human beings afford to throw away a vitalizing force so pungent, so exhilarating? You remember the experiment of a prison where one row of cells had daily sunshine and the others none. With the same regimen, the same cleanliness, the same care, the inmates of the sunless cells were visited with sickness and death in double measure. Our whole population in New England are groaning and suffering under afflictions, the result of a depressed vitality,--neuralgia, with a new ache for every day of the year, rheumatism, consumption, general debility; for all these a thousand nostrums are daily advertised, and money enough is spent on them to equip an army, while we are fighting against, wasting, and throwing away with both hands, that blessed influence which comes nearest to pure vitality of anything God has given. "Who is it that the Bible describes as a sun, arising with healing in his wings? Surely, that sunshine which is the chosen type and image of His love must be healing through all the recesses of our daily life, drying damp and mould, defending from moth and rust, sweetening ill smells, clearing from the nerves the vapors of melancholy, making life cheery. If I did not know Him, I should certainly adore and worship the sun, the most blessed and beautiful image of Him among things visible! In the land of Egypt, in the day of God's wrath, there was darkness, but in the land of Goshen there was light. I am a Goshenite, and mean to walk in the light, and forswear the works of darkness. But to proceed with our reading." * * * * * "Our house" shall be set on a southeast line, so that there shall not be a sunless room in it, and windows shall be so arranged that it can be traversed and transpierced through and through with those bright shafts of light which come straight from God. "Our house" shall not be blockaded with a dank, dripping mass of shrubbery set plumb against the windows, keeping out light and air. There shall be room all round it for breezes to sweep, and sunshine to sweeten and dry and vivify; and I would warn all good souls who begin life by setting out two little evergreen-trees within a foot of each of their front-windows, that these trees will grow and increase till their front-rooms will be brooded over by a sombre, stifling shadow fit only for ravens to croak in. One would think, by the way some people hasten to convert a very narrow front-yard into a dismal jungle, that the only danger of our New England climate was sunstroke. Ah, in those drizzling months which form at least one half of our life here, what sullen, censorious, uncomfortable, unhealthy thoughts are bred of living in dark, chilly rooms, behind such dripping thickets? Our neighbors' faults assume a deeper hue, life seems a dismal thing, our very religion grows mouldy. My idea of a house is, that, as far as is consistent with shelter and reasonable privacy, it should give you on first entering an open, breezy, outdoor freshness of sensation. Every window should be a picture--sun and trees and clouds and green grass should seem never to be far from us. "Our house" may shade but not darken us. "Our house" shall have bow-windows, many, sunny, and airy,--not for the purpose of being cleaned and shut up, but to be open and enjoyed. There shall be long verandas above and below, where invalids may walk dry-shod, and enjoy open-air recreation in wettest weather. In short, I will try to have "our house" combine as far as possible the sunny, joyous, fresh life of a gypsy in the fields and woods with the quiet and neatness and comfort and shelter of a roof, rooms, floors, and carpets. After heavenly fire, I have a word to say of earthly, artificial fires. Furnaces, whether of hot water, steam, or hot air, are all healthy and admirable provisions for warming our houses during the eight or nine months of our year that we must have artificial heat, if only, as I have said, fireplaces keep up a current of ventilation. The kitchen-range with its water-back I humbly salute. It is a great throbbing heart, and sends its warm tides of cleansing, comforting fluid all through the house. One could wish that this friendly dragon could be in some way moderated in his appetite for coal,--he does consume without mercy, it must be confessed,--but then great is the work he has to do. At any hour of day or night, in the most distant part of your house, you have but to turn a stop-cock and your red dragon sends you hot water for your need; your washing-day becomes a mere play-day; your pantry has its ever-ready supply; and then, by a little judicious care in arranging apartments and economizing heat, a range may make two or three chambers comfortable in winter weather. A range with a water-back is among the _must-be's_ in "our house." Then, as to the evening light,--I know nothing as yet better than gas, where it can be had. I would certainly not have a house without it. The great objection to it is the danger of its escape through imperfect fixtures. But it must not do this: a fluid that kills a tree or a plant with one breath must certainly be a dangerous ingredient in the atmosphere, and if admitted into houses, must be introduced with every safeguard. There are families living in the country who make their own gas by a very simple process. This is worth an inquiry from those who build. There are also contrivances now advertised, with good testimonials, of domestic machines for generating gas, said to be perfectly safe, simple to be managed, and producing a light superior to that of the city gas works. This also is worth an inquiry when "our house" is to be in the country. And now I come to the next great vital element for which "our house" must provide,--WATER. "Water, water, everywhere,"--it must be plentiful, it must be easy to get at, it must be pure. Our ancestors had some excellent ideas in home living and housebuilding. Their houses were, generally speaking, very sensibly contrived,--roomy, airy, and comfortable; but in their water arrangements they had little mercy on womankind. The well was out in the yard; and in winter one must flounder through snow and bring up the ice-bound bucket, before one could fill the tea-kettle for breakfast. For a sovereign princess of the republic, this was hardly respectful or respectable. Wells have come somewhat nearer in modern times; but the idea of a constant supply of fresh water by the simple turning of a stop-cock has not yet visited the great body of our houses. Were we free to build "our house" just as we wish it, there should be a bath-room to every two or three inmates, and the hot and cold water should circulate to every chamber. Among our _must-be's_, we would lay by a generous sum for plumbing. Let us have our bath-rooms, and our arrangements for cleanliness and health in kitchen and pantry; and afterwards let the quality of our lumber and the style of our finishing be according to the sum we have left. The power to command a warm bath in a house at any hour of day or night is better in bringing up a family of children than any amount of ready medicine. In three quarters of childish ailments the warm bath is an almost immediate remedy. Bad colds, incipient fevers, rheumatisms, convulsions, neuralgias innumerable, are washed off in their first beginnings, and run down the lead pipes into oblivion. Have, then, O friend, all the water in your house that you can afford, and enlarge your ideas of the worth of it, that you _may_ afford a great deal. A bathing-room is nothing to you that requires an hour of lifting and fire-making to prepare it for use. The apparatus is too cumbrous,--you do not turn to it. But when your chamber opens upon a neat, quiet little nook, and you have only to turn your stop-cocks and all is ready, your remedy is at hand, you use it constantly. You are waked in the night by a scream, and find little Tom sitting up, wild with burning fever. In three minutes he is in the bath, quieted and comfortable; you get him back, cooled and tranquil, to his little crib, and in the morning he wakes as if nothing had happened. Why should not so invaluable and simple a remedy for disease, such a preservative of health, such a comfort, such a stimulus, be considered as much a matter-of-course in a house as a kitchen-chimney? At least there should be one bath-room always in order, so arranged that all the family can have access to it, if one cannot afford the luxury of many. A house in which water is universally and skillfully distributed is so much easier to take care of as almost to verify the saying of a friend, that his house was so contrived that it did its own work: one had better do without carpets on the floors, without stuffed sofas and rocking-chairs, and secure this. * * * * * "Well, papa," said Marianne, "you have made out all your four elements in your house, except one. I can't imagine what you want of _earth_." "I thought," said Jenny, "that the less of our common mother we had in our houses, the better housekeepers we were." "My dears," said I, "we philosophers must give an occasional dip into the mystical, and say something apparently absurd for the purpose of explaining that we mean nothing in particular by it. It gives common people an idea of our sagacity, to find how clear we come out of our apparent contradictions and absurdities. Listen." * * * * * For the fourth requisite of "our house," EARTH, let me point you to your mother's plant-window, and beg you to remember the fact that through our long, dreary winters we are never a month without flowers, and the vivid interest which always attaches to growing things. The perfect house, as I conceive it, is to combine as many of the advantages of living out of doors as may be consistent with warmth and shelter, and one of these is the sympathy with green and growing things. Plants are nearer in their relations to human health and vigor than is often imagined. The cheerfulness that well-kept plants impart to a room comes not merely from gratification of the eye,--there is a healthful exhalation from them, they are a corrective of the impurities of the atmosphere. Plants, too, are valuable as tests of the vitality of the atmosphere; their drooping and failure convey to us information that something is amiss with it. A lady once told me that she could never raise plants in her parlors on account of the gas and anthracite coal. I answered, "Are you not afraid to live and bring up your children in an atmosphere which blights your plants?" If the gas escape from the pipes, and the red-hot anthracite coal or the red-hot air-tight stove burns out all the vital part of the air, so that healthy plants in a few days wither and begin to drop their leaves, it is sign that the air must be looked to and reformed. It is a fatal augury for a room that plants cannot be made to thrive in it. Plants should not turn pale, be long-jointed, long-leaved, and spindling; and where they grow in this way, we may be certain that there is a want of vitality for human beings. But where plants appear as they do in the open air, with vigorous, stocky growth, and short-stemmed, deep-green leaves, we may believe the conditions of that atmosphere are healthy for human lungs. It is pleasant to see how the custom of plant growing has spread through our country. In how many farmhouse windows do we see petunias and nasturtiums vivid with bloom, while snows are whirling without, and how much brightness have those cheap enjoyments shed on the lives of those who cared for them! We do not believe there is a human being who would not become a passionate lover of plants, if circumstances once made it imperative to tend upon and watch the growth of one. The history of Picciola for substance has been lived over and over by many a man and woman who once did not know that there was a particle of plant-love in their souls. But to the proper care of plants in pots there are many hindrances and drawbacks. The dust chokes the little pores of their green lungs, and they require constant showering; and to carry all one's plants to a sink or porch for this purpose is a labor which many will not endure. Consequently plants often do not get a showering once a month! We should try to imitate more closely the action of Mother Nature, who washes every green child of hers nightly with dews, which lie glittering on its leaves till morning. * * * * * "Yes, there it is!" said Jenny. "I think I could manage with plants, if it were not for this eternal showering and washing they seem to require to keep them fresh. They are always tempting one to spatter the carpet and surrounding furniture, which are not equally benefited by the libation." "It is partly for that very reason," I replied, "that the plan of 'our house' provides for the introduction of Mother Earth, as you will see." * * * * * A perfect house, according to my idea, should always include in it a little compartment where plants can be kept, can be watered, can be defended from the dust, and have the sunshine and all the conditions of growth. People have generally supposed a conservatory to be one of the last trappings of wealth,--something not to be thought of for those in modest circumstances. But is this so? You have a bow-window in your parlor. Leave out the flooring, fill the space with rich earth, close it from the parlor by glass doors, and you have room for enough plants and flowers to keep you gay and happy all winter. If on the south side, where the sunbeams have power, it requires no heat but that which warms the parlor; and the comfort of it is incalculable, and the expense a mere trifle greater than that of the bow-window alone. In larger houses a larger space might be appropriated in this way. We will not call it a conservatory, because that name suggests ideas of gardeners, and mysteries of culture and rare plants, which bring all sorts of care and expense in their train. We would rather call it a greenery, a room floored with earth, with glass sides to admit the sun,--and let it open on as many other rooms of the house as possible. Why should not the dining-room and parlor be all winter connected by a spot of green and flowers, with plants, mosses, and ferns for the shadowy portions, and such simple blooms as petunias and nasturtiums garlanding the sunny portion near the windows? If near the water-works, this greenery might be enlivened by the play of a fountain, whose constant spray would give that softness to the air which is so often burned away by the dry heat of the furnace. * * * * * "And do you really think, papa, that houses built in this way are a practical result to be aimed at?" said Jenny. "To me it seems like a dream of the Alhambra." "Yet I happen to have seen real people in our day living in just such a house," said I. "I could point you, this very hour, to a cottage, which in style of building is the plainest possible, which unites many of the best ideas of a true house. My dear, can you sketch the ground plan of that house we saw in Brighton?" "Here it is," said my wife, after a few dashes with her pencil, "an inexpensive house, yet one of the pleasantest I ever saw." [Illustration: House Blueprint] "This cottage, which might, at the rate of prices before the war, have been built for five thousand dollars, has many of the requirements which I seek for a house. It has two stories, and a tier of very pleasant attic-rooms, two bathing-rooms, and the water carried into each story. The parlor and dining-room both look into a little bower, where a fountain is ever playing into a little marble basin, and which all the year through has its green and bloom. It is heated simply from the furnace by a register, like any other room of the house, and requires no more care than a delicate woman could easily give. The brightness and cheerfulness it brings during our long, dreary winters is incredible." * * * * * But one caution is necessary in all such appendages. The earth must be thoroughly underdrained to prevent the vapors of stagnant water, and have a large admixture of broken charcoal to obviate the consequences of vegetable decomposition. Great care must be taken that there be no leaves left to fall and decay on the ground, since vegetable exhalations poison the air. With these precautions such a plot will soften and purify the air of a house. Where the means do not allow even so small a conservatory, a recessed window might be fitted with a deep box, which should have a drain-pipe at the bottom, and a thick layer of broken charcoal and gravel, with a mixture of fine wood-soil and sand, for the top stratum. Here ivies may be planted, which will run and twine and strike their little tendrils here and there, and give the room in time the aspect of a bower; the various greenhouse nasturtiums will make winter gorgeous with blossoms. In windows unblessed by sunshine--and, alas! such are many--one can cultivate ferns and mosses; the winter-growing ferns, of which there are many varieties, can be mixed with mosses and woodland flowers. Early in February, when the cheerless frosts of winter seem most wearisome, the common blue violet, wood anemone, hepatica, or rock-columbine, if planted in this way, will begin to bloom. The common partridge-berry, with its brilliant scarlet fruit and dark-green leaves, will also grow finely in such situations, and have a beautiful effect. These things require daily showering to keep them fresh, and the moisture arising from them will soften and freshen the too dry air of heated winter rooms. * * * * * Thus I have been through my four essential elements in housebuilding,--air, fire, water, and earth. I would provide for these before anything else. After they are secured, I would gratify my taste and fancy as far as possible in other ways. I quite agree with Bob in hating commonplace houses, and longing for some little bit of architectural effect! and I grieve profoundly that every step in that direction must cost so much. I have also a taste for niceness of finish. I have no objection to silver-plated door-locks and hinges, none to windows which are an entire plate of clear glass. I congratulate neighbors who are so fortunate as to be able to get them; and after I have put all the essentials into a house, I would have these too, if I had the means. But if all my wood work were to be without groove or moulding, if my mantels were to be of simple wood, if my doors were all to be machine-made, and my lumber of the second quality, I would have my bath-rooms, my conservatory, my sunny bow-windows, and my perfect ventilation; and my house would then be so pleasant, and every one in it in such a cheerful mood, that it would verily seem to be ceiled with cedar. Speaking of ceiling with cedar, I have one thing more to say. We Americans have a country abounding in beautiful timber, of whose beauties we know nothing, on account of the pernicious and stupid habit of covering it with white paint. The celebrated zebra wood with its golden stripes cannot exceed in quaint beauty the grain of unpainted chestnut, prepared simply with a coat or two of oil. The butternut has a rich golden brown, the very darling color of painters, a shade so rich, and grain so beautiful, that it is of itself as charming to look at as a rich picture. The black-walnut, with its heavy depth of tone, works in well as an adjunct; and as to oak, what can we say enough of its quaint and many shadings? Even common pine, which has been considered not decent to look upon till hastily shrouded in a friendly blanket of white paint, has, when oiled and varnished, the beauty of satin-wood. The second quality of pine, which has what are called _shakes_ in it, under this mode of treatment often shows clouds and veins equal in beauty to the choicest woods. The cost of such a finish is greatly less than that of the old method; and it saves those days and weeks of cleaning which are demanded by white paint, while its general tone is softer and more harmonious. Experiments in color may be tried in the combinations of these woods, which at small expense produce the most charming effects. As to paper hangings, we are proud to say that our American manufacturers now furnish all that can be desired. There are some branches of design where artistic, ingenious France must still excel us; but whoso has a house to fit up, let him first look at what his own country has to show, and he will be astonished. There is one topic in housebuilding on which I would add a few words. The difficulty of procuring and keeping good servants, which must long be one of our chief domestic troubles, warns us so to arrange our houses that we shall need as few as possible. There is the greatest conceivable difference in the planning and building of houses as to the amount of work which will be necessary to keep them in respectable condition. Some houses require a perfect staff of housemaids: there are plated hinges to be rubbed, paint to be cleaned, with intricacies of moulding and carving which daily consume hours of dusting to preserve them from a slovenly look. Simple finish, unpainted wood, a general distribution of water through the dwelling, will enable a very large house to be cared for by one pair of hands, and yet maintain a creditable appearance. In kitchens one servant may perform the work of two by a close packing of all the conveniences for cooking and such arrangements as shall save time and steps. Washing-day may be divested of its terrors by suitable provisions for water, hot and cold; by wringers, which save at once the strength of the linen and of the laundress; and by drying-closets connected with ranges, where articles can in a few moments be perfectly dried. These, with the use of a small mangle, such as is now common in America, reduce the labors of the laundry one half. There are many more things which might be said of "our house," and Christopher may, perhaps, find some other opportunity to say them. For the present his pen is tired and ceaseth. XII HOME RELIGION It was Sunday evening, and our little circle were convened by my study fireside, where a crackling hickory fire proclaimed the fall of the year to be coming on, and cold weather impending. Sunday evenings, my married boys and girls are fond of coming home and gathering round the old hearthstone, and "making believe" that they are children again. We get out the old-fashioned music-books, and sing old hymns to very old tunes, and my wife and her matron daughters talk about the babies in the intervals; and we discourse of the sermon, and of the choir, and all the general outworks of good pious things which Sunday suggests. "Papa," said Marianne, "you are closing up your 'House and Home Papers,' are you not?" "Yes,--I am come to the last one, for this year at least." "My dear," said my wife, "there is one subject you haven't touched on yet; you ought not to close the year without it; no house and home can be complete without Religion: you should write a paper on Home Religion." My wife, as you may have seen in these papers, is an old-fashioned woman, something of a conservative. I am, I confess, rather given to progress and speculation; but I feel always as if I were going on in these ways with a string round my waist, and my wife's hand steadily pulling me back into the old paths. My wife is a steady, Bible-reading, Sabbath-keeping woman, cherishing the memory of her fathers, and loving to do as they did,--believing, for the most part, that the paths well beaten by righteous feet are safest, even though much walking therein has worn away the grass and flowers. Nevertheless, she has an indulgent ear for all that gives promise of bettering anybody or anything, and therefore is not severe on any new methods that may arise in our progressive days of accomplishing old good objects. "There must be a home religion," said my wife. "I believe in home religion," said Bob Stephens,--"but not in the outward show of it. The best sort of religion is that which one keeps at the bottom of his heart, and which goes up thence quietly through all his actions, and not the kind that comes through a certain routine of forms and ceremonies. Do you suppose family prayers, now, and a blessing at meals, make people any better?" "Depend upon it, Robert," said my wife,--she always calls him Robert on Sunday evenings,--"depend upon it, we are not so very much wiser than our fathers were, that we need depart from their good old ways. Of course I would have religion in the heart, and spreading quietly through the life; but does this interfere with those outward, daily acts of respect and duty which we owe to our Creator? It is too much the slang of our day to decry forms, and to exalt the excellency of the spirit in opposition to them; but tell me, are you satisfied with friendship that has none of the outward forms of friendship, or love that has none of the outward forms of love? Are you satisfied of the existence of a sentiment that has no outward mode of expression? Even the old heathen had their pieties; they would not begin a feast without a libation to their divinities, and there was a shrine in every well-regulated house for household gods." "The trouble with all these things," said Bob, "is that they get to be mere forms. I never could see that family worship amounted to much more in most families." "The outward expression of all good things is apt to degenerate into mere form," said I. "The outward expression of social good feeling becomes a mere form; but for that reason must we meet each other like oxen? not say, 'Good morning,' or 'Good evening,' or 'I am happy to see you'? Must we never use any of the forms of mutual good will, except in those moments when we are excited by a real, present emotion? What would become of society? Forms are, so to speak, a daguerreotype of a past good feeling, meant to take and keep the impression of it when it is gone. Our best and most inspired moments are crystallized in them; and even when the spirit that created them is gone, they help to bring it back. Every one must be conscious that the use of the forms of social benevolence, even towards those who are personally unpleasant to us, tends to ameliorate prejudices. We see a man entering our door who is a weary bore, but we use with him those forms of civility which society prescribes, and feel far kinder to him than if we had shut the door in his face and said, 'Go along, you tiresome fellow!' Now why does not this very obvious philosophy apply to better and higher feelings? The forms of religion are as much more necessary than the forms of politeness and social good will as religion is more important than all other things." "Besides," said my wife, "a form of worship kept up from year to year in a family--the assembling of parents and children for a few sacred moments each day, though it may be a form many times, especially in the gay and thoughtless hours of life--often becomes invested with deep sacredness in times of trouble, or in those crises that rouse our deeper feelings. In sickness, in bereavement, in separation, the daily prayer at home has a sacred and healing power. Then we remember the scattered and wandering ones; and the scattered and wandering think tenderly of that hour when they know they are remembered. I know, when I was a young girl, I was often thoughtless and careless about family prayers; but now that my father and mother are gone forever, there is nothing I recall more often. I remember the great old Family Bible, the hymn-book, the chair where father used to sit. I see him as he looked bending over that Bible more than in any other way; and expressions and sentences in his prayers which fell unheeded on my ears in those days have often come back to me like comforting angels. We are not aware of the influence things are having on us till we have left them far behind in years. When we have summered and wintered them, and look back on them from changed times and other days, we find that they were making their mark upon us, though we knew it not." "I have often admired," said I, "the stateliness and regularity of family worship in good old families in England,--the servants, guests, and children all assembled,--the reading of the Scriptures and the daily prayers by the master or mistress of the family, ending with the united repetition of the Lord's Prayer by all." "No such assemblage is possible in our country," said Bob. "Our servants are for the most part Roman Catholics, and forbidden by their religion to join with us in acts of worship." "The greater the pity," said I. "It is a pity that all Christians who can conscientiously repeat the Apostles' Creed and the Lord's Prayer together should for any reason be forbidden to do so. It would do more to harmonize our families, and promote good feeling between masters and servants, to meet once a day on the religious ground common to both, than many sermons on reciprocal duties." "But, while the case is so," said Marianne, "we can't help it. Our servants cannot unite with us; our daily prayers are something forbidden to them." "We cannot in this country," said I, "give to family prayer that solemn stateliness which it has in a country where religion is a civil institution, and masters and servants, as a matter of course, belong to one church. Our prayers must resemble more a private interview with a father than a solemn act of homage to a king. They must be more intimate and domestic. The hour of family devotion should be the children's hour,--held dear as the interval when the busy father drops his business and cares, and, like Jesus of old, takes the little ones in his arms and blesses them. The child should remember it as the time when the father always seemed most accessible and loving. The old family worship of New England lacked this character of domesticity and intimacy,--it was stately and formal, distant and cold; but, whatever were its defects, I cannot think it an improvement to leave it out altogether, as too many good sort of people in our day are doing. There may be practical religion where its outward daily forms are omitted, but there is assuredly no more of it for the omission. No man loves God and his neighbor _less_, is a _less_ honest and good man, for daily prayers in his household,--the chances are quite the other way; and if the spirit of love rules the family hour, it may prove the source and spring of all that is good through the day. It seems to be a solemn duty in the parents thus to make the Invisible Fatherhood real to their children, who can receive this idea at first only through outward forms and observances. The little one thus learns that his father has a Father in heaven, and that the earthly life he is living is only a sacrament and emblem,--a type of the eternal life which infolds it, and of more lasting relations there. Whether, therefore, it be the silent grace and silent prayer of the Friends, or the form of prayer of ritual churches, or the extemporaneous outpouring of those whose habits and taste lead them to extempore prayer, in one of these ways there should be daily outward and visible acts of worship in every family." "Well, now," said Bob, "about this old question of Sunday-keeping, Marianne and I are much divided. I am always for doing something that she thinks isn't the thing." "Well, you see," said Marianne, "Bob is always talking against our old Puritan fathers, and saying all manner of hard things about them. He seems to think that all their ways and doings must of course have been absurd. For my part, I don't think we are in any danger of being too strict about anything. It appears to me that in this country there is a general tendency to let all sorts of old forms and observances float down-stream, and yet nobody seems quite to have made up his mind what shall come next." "The fact is," said I, "that we realize very fully all the objections and difficulties of the experiments in living that we have tried; but the difficulties in others that we are intending to try have not yet come to light. The Puritan Sabbath had great and very obvious evils. Its wearisome restraints and over-strictness cast a gloom on religion, and arrayed against the day itself the active prejudices that now are undermining it and threatening its extinction. But it had great merits and virtues, and produced effects on society that we cannot well afford to dispense with. The clearing of a whole day from all possibilities of labor and amusement necessarily produced a grave and thoughtful people, and a democratic republic can be carried on by no other. In lands which have Sabbaths of mere amusement, mere gala days, republics rise and fall as quick as children's card-houses; and the reason is, they are built by those whose political and religious education has been childish. The common people of Europe have been sedulously nursed on amusements by the reigning powers, to keep them from meddling with serious matters; their religion has been sensuous and sentimental, and their Sabbaths thoughtless holidays. The common people of New England are educated to think, to reason, to examine all questions of politics and religion for themselves; and one deeply thoughtful day every week baptizes and strengthens their reflective and reasoning faculties. The Sunday-schools of Paris are whirligigs where Young France rides round and round on little hobby-horses till his brain spins even faster than Nature made it to spin; and when he grows up, his political experiments are as whirligig as his Sunday education. If I were to choose between the Sabbath of France and the old Puritan Sabbath, I should hold up both hands for the latter, with all its objectionable features." "Well," said my wife, "cannot we contrive to retain all that is really valuable of the Sabbath, and to ameliorate and smooth away what is forbidding?" "That is the problem of our day," said I. "We do not want the Sabbath of Continental Europe: it does not suit democratic institutions; it cannot be made even a quiet or a safe day, except by means of that ever-present armed police that exists there. If the Sabbath of America is simply to be a universal loafing, picnicking, dining-out day, as it is now with all our foreign population, we shall need what they have in Europe, the gendarmes at every turn, to protect the fruit on our trees and the melons in our fields. People who live a little out from great cities see enough, and more than enough, of this sort of Sabbath-keeping, with our loose American police. "The fact is, our system of government was organized to go by moral influences as much as mills by water, and Sunday was the great day for concentrating these influences and bringing them to bear; and we might just as well break down all the dams and let out all the water of the Lowell mills, and expect still to work the looms, as to expect to work our laws and constitution with European notions of religion. "It is true the Puritan Sabbath had its disagreeable points. So have the laws of Nature. They are of a most uncomfortable sternness and rigidity; yet for all that, we would hardly join in a petition to have them repealed, or made wavering and uncertain for human convenience. We can bend to them in a thousand ways, and live very comfortably under them." "But," said Bob, "Sabbath-keeping is the iron rod of bigots; they don't allow a man any liberty of his own. One says it's wicked to write a letter Sunday; another holds that you must read no book but the Bible; and a third is scandalized if you take a walk, ever so quietly, in the fields. There are all sorts of quips and turns. We may fasten things with pins of a Sunday, but it's wicked to fasten with needle and thread, and so on, and so on; and each one, planting himself on his own individual mode of keeping Sunday, points his guns and frowns severely over the battlements on his neighbors whose opinions and practice are different from his." "Yet," said I, "Sabbath days are expressly mentioned by Saint Paul as among those things concerning which no man should judge another. It seems to me that the error as regards the Puritan Sabbath was in representing it, not as a gift from God to man, but as a tribute of man to God. Hence all these hagglings and nice questions and exactions to the uttermost farthing. The holy time must be weighed and measured. It must begin at twelve o'clock of one night, and end at twelve o'clock of another; and from beginning to end, the mind must be kept in a state of tension by the effort not to think any of its usual thoughts or do any of its usual works. The fact is, that the metaphysical, defining, hair-splitting mind of New England, turning its whole powers on this one bit of ritual, this one only day of divine service, which was left of all the feasts and fasts of the old churches, made of it a thing straiter and stricter than ever the old Jews dreamed of. "The old Jewish Sabbath entered only into the physical region, merely enjoining cessation from physical toil. 'Thou shalt not _labor_ nor do any _work_,' covered the whole ground. In other respects than this it was a joyful festival, resembling, in the mode of keeping it, the Christmas of the modern church. It was a day of social hilarity,--the Jewish law strictly forbidding mourning and gloom during festivals. The people were commanded on feast days to rejoice before the Lord their God with all their might. We fancy there were no houses where children were afraid to laugh, where the voice of social cheerfulness quavered away in terror lest it should awake a wrathful God. The Jewish Sabbath was instituted, in the absence of printing, of books, and of all the advantages of literature, to be the great means of preserving sacred history,--a day cleared from all possibility of other employment than social and family communion, when the heads of families and the elders of tribes might instruct the young in those religious traditions which have thus come down to us. "The Christian Sabbath is meant to supply the same moral need in that improved and higher state of society which Christianity introduced. Thus it was changed from the day representing the creation of the world to the resurrection day of Him who came to make all things new. The Jewish Sabbath was buried with Christ in the sepulchre, and arose with Him, not a Jewish, but a Christian festival, still holding in itself that provision for man's needs which the old institution possessed, but with a wider and more generous freedom of application. It was given to the Christian world as a day of rest, of refreshment, of hope and joy, and of worship. The manner of making it such a day was left open and free to the needs and convenience of the varying circumstances and characters of those for whose benefit it was instituted." "Well," said Bob, "don't you think there is a deal of nonsense about Sabbath-keeping?" "There is a deal of nonsense about everything human beings have to deal with," I said. "And," said Marianne, "how to find out what is nonsense?"-- "By clear conceptions," said I, "of what the day is for. I should define the Sabbath as a divine and fatherly gift to man,--a day expressly set apart for the cultivation of his moral nature. Its object is not merely physical rest and recreation, but moral improvement. The former are proper to the day only so far as they are subservient to the latter. The whole human race have the conscious need of being made better, purer, and more spiritual; the whole human race have one common danger of sinking to a mere animal life under the pressure of labor or in the dissipations of pleasure; and of the whole human race the proverb holds good, that what may be done any time is done at no time. Hence the Heavenly Father appoints one day as a special season for the culture of man's highest faculties. Accordingly, whatever ways and practices interfere with the purpose of the Sabbath as a day of worship and moral culture should be avoided, and all family arrangements for the day should be made with reference thereto." "Cold dinners on Sunday, for example," said Bob. "Marianne holds these as prime articles of faith." "Yes,--they doubtless are most worthy and merciful, in giving to the poor cook one day she may call her own, and rest from the heat of range and cooking-stove. For the same reason, I would suspend as far as possible all traveling, and all public labor, on Sunday. The hundreds of hands that these things require to carry them on are the hands of human beings, whose right to this merciful pause of rest is as clear as their humanity. Let them have their day to look upward." "But the little ones," said my oldest matron daughter, who had not as yet spoken,--"they are the problem. Oh, this weary labor of making children keep Sunday! If I try it, I have no rest at all myself. If I must talk to them or read to them to keep them from play, my Sabbath becomes my hardest working day." "And, pray, what commandment of the Bible ever said children should not play on Sunday?" said I. "We are forbidden to work, and we see the reason why; but lambs frisk and robins sing on Sunday; and little children, who are as yet more than half animals, must not be made to keep the day in the manner proper to our more developed faculties. As much cheerful, attractive religious instruction as they can bear without weariness may be given, and then they may simply be restrained from disturbing others. Say to the little one, 'This day we have noble and beautiful things to think of that interest us deeply: you are a child; you cannot read and think and enjoy such things as much as we can; you may play softly and quietly, and remember not to make a disturbance.' I would take a child to public worship at least once of a Sunday; it forms a good habit in him. If the sermon be long and unintelligible, there are the little Sabbath-school books in every child's hands; and while the grown people are getting what they understand, who shall forbid a child's getting what is suited to him in a way that interests him and disturbs nobody? The Sabbath-school is the child's church and happily it is yearly becoming a more and more attractive institution. I approve the custom of those who beautify the Sabbath school-room with plants, flowers, and pictures, thus making it an attractive place to the childish eye. The more this custom prevails, the more charming in after years will be the memories of Sunday. "It is most especially to be desired that the whole air and aspect of the day should be one of cheerfulness. Even the new dresses, new bonnets, and new shoes, in which children delight of a Sunday, should not be despised. They have their value in marking the day as a festival; and it is better for the child to long for Sunday, for the sake of his little new shoes, than that he should hate and dread it as a period of wearisome restraint. All the latitude should be given to children that can be, consistently with fixing in their minds the idea of a sacred season. I would rather that the atmosphere of the day should resemble that of a weekly Thanksgiving than that it should make its mark on the tender mind only by the memory of deprivations and restrictions." "Well," said Bob, "here's Marianne always breaking her heart about my reading on Sunday. Now I hold that what is bad on Sunday is bad on Monday,--and what is good on Monday is good on Sunday." "We cannot abridge other people's liberty," said I. "The generous, confiding spirit of Christianity has imposed not a single restriction upon us in reference to Sunday. The day is put at our disposal as a good Father hands a piece of money to his child,--'There it is; take it and spend it well.' The child knows from his father's character what he means by spending it well, but he is left free to use his own judgment as to the mode. "If a man conscientiously feels that reading of this or that description is the best for him as regards his moral training and improvement, let him pursue it, and let no man judge him. It is difficult, with the varying temperaments of men, to decide what are or are not religious books. One man is more religiously impressed by the reading of history or astronomy than he would be by reading a sermon. There may be overwrought and wearied states of the brain and nerves which require and make proper the diversions of light literature; and if so, let it be used. The mind must have its recreations as well as the body." "But for children and young people," said my daughter,--"would you let them read novels on Sunday?" "That is exactly like asking, Would you let them talk with people on Sunday? Now people are different; it depends, therefore, on who they are. Some are trifling and flighty, some are positively bad-principled, some are altogether good in their influence. So of the class of books called novels. Some are merely frivolous, some are absolutely noxious and dangerous, others again are written with a strong moral and religious purpose, and, being vivid and interesting, produce far more religious effect on the mind than dull treatises and sermons. The parables of Christ sufficiently establish the point that there is no inherent objection to the use of fiction in teaching religious truth. Good religious fiction, thoughtfully read, may be quite as profitable as any other reading." "But don't you think," said Marianne, "that there is danger in too much fiction?" "Yes," said I. "But the chief danger of all that class of reading is its _easiness_, and the indolent, careless mental habits it induces. A great deal of the reading of young people on all days is really reading to no purpose, its object being merely present amusement. It is a listless yielding of the mind to be washed over by a stream which leaves no fertilizing properties, and carries away by constant wear the good soil of thought. I should try to establish a barrier against this kind of reading, not only on Sunday, but on Monday, on Tuesday, and on all days. Instead, therefore, of objecting to any particular class of books for Sunday reading, I should say in general that reading merely for pastime, without any moral aim, is the thing to be guarded against. That which inspires no thought, no purpose, which steals away all our strength and energy, and makes the Sabbath a day of dreams, is the reading I would object to. "So of music. I do not see the propriety of confining one's self to technical sacred music. Any grave, solemn, thoughtful, or pathetic music has a proper relation to our higher spiritual nature, whether it be printed in a church service-book or on secular sheets. On me, for example, Beethoven's Sonatas have a far more deeply religious influence than much that has religious names and words. Music is to be judged of by its effects." "Well," said Bob, "if Sunday is given for our own individual improvement, I for one should not go to church. I think I get a great deal more good in staying at home and reading." "There are two considerations to be taken into account in reference to this matter of church-going," I replied. "One relates to our duty as members of society in keeping up the influence of the Sabbath, and causing it to be respected in the community; the other, to the proper disposition of our time for our own moral improvement. As members of the community, we should go to church, and do all in our power to support the outward ordinances of religion. If a conscientious man makes up his mind that Sunday is a day for outward acts of worship and reverence, he should do his own part as an individual towards sustaining these observances. Even though he may have such mental and moral resources that as an individual he could gain much more in solitude than in a congregation, still he owes to the congregation the influence of his presence and sympathy. But I have never yet seen the man, however finely gifted morally and intellectually, whom I thought in the long run a gainer in either of these respects by the neglect of public worship. I have seen many who in their pride kept aloof from the sympathies and communion of their brethren, who lost strength morally, and deteriorated in ways that made themselves painfully felt. Sunday is apt in such cases to degenerate into a day of mere mental idleness and reverie, or to become a sort of waste-paper box for scraps, odds and ends of secular affairs. "As to those very good people--and many such there are--who go straight on with the work of life on Sunday, on the plea that 'to labor is to pray,' I simply think they are mistaken. In the first place, to labor is _not_ the same thing as to pray. It may sometimes be as good a thing to do, and in some cases even a better thing; but it is not the same thing. A man might as well never write a letter to his wife, on the plea that making money for her is writing to her. It may possibly be quite as great a proof of love to work for a wife as to write to her, but few wives would not say that both were not better than either alone. Furthermore, there is no doubt that the intervention of one day of spiritual rest and aspiration so refreshes a man's whole nature, and oils the many wheels of existence, that he who allows himself a weekly Sabbath does more work in the course of his life for the omission of work on that day. "A young student in a French college, where the examinations are rigidly severe, found by experience that he succeeded best in his examination by allowing one day of entire rest just before it. His brain and nervous system refreshed in this way carried him through the work better than if taxed to the last moment. There are men transacting a large and complicated business who can testify to the same influence from the repose of the Sabbath. "I believe those Christian people who from conscience and principle turn their thoughts most entirely out of the current of worldly cares on Sunday fulfill unconsciously a great law of health; and that, whether their moral nature be thereby advanced or not, their brain will work more healthfully and actively for it, even in physical and worldly matters. It is because the Sabbath thus harmonizes the physical and moral laws of our being that the injunction concerning it is placed among the ten great commandments, each of which represents some one of the immutable needs of humanity." "There is yet another point of family religion that ought to be thought of," said my wife: "I mean the customs of mourning. If there is anything that ought to distinguish Christian families from Pagans, it should be their way of looking at and meeting those inevitable events that must from time to time break the family chain. It seems to be the peculiarity of Christianity to shed hope on such events. And yet it seems to me as if it were the very intention of many of the customs of society to add tenfold to their gloom and horror,--such swathings of black crape, such funereal mufflings of every pleasant object, such darkening of rooms, and such seclusion from society and giving up to bitter thoughts and lamentation. How can little children that look on such things believe that there is a particle of truth in all they hear about the joyous and comforting doctrines which the Bible holds forth for such times?" "That subject is a difficult one," I rejoined. "Nature seems to indicate a propriety in some outward expressions of grief when we lose our friends. All nations agree in these demonstrations. In a certain degree they are soothing to sorrow; they are the language of external life made to correspond to the internal. Wearing mourning has its advantages. It is a protection to the feelings of the wearer, for whom it procures sympathetic and tender consideration; it saves grief from many a hard jostle in the ways of life; it prevents the necessity of many a trying explanation, and is the ready apology for many an omission of those tasks to which sorrow is unequal. For all these reasons I never could join the crusade which some seem disposed to wage against it. Mourning, however, ought not to be continued for years. Its uses are more for the first few months of sorrow, when it serves the mourner as a safeguard from intrusion, insuring quiet and leisure in which to reunite the broken threads of life, and to gather strength for a return to its duties. But to wear mourning garments and forego society for two or three years after the loss of any friend, however dear, I cannot but regard as a morbid, unhealthy nursing of sorrow, unworthy of a Christian." "And yet," said my wife, "to such an unhealthy degree does this custom prevail, that I have actually known young girls who have never worn any other dress than mourning, and consequently never been into society, during the entire period of their girlhood. First, the death of a father necessitated three years of funereal garments and abandonment of social relations; then the death of a brother added two years more; and before that mourning was well ended, another of a wide circle of relatives being taken, the habitual seclusion was still protracted. What must a child think of the Christian doctrine of life and death who has never seen life except through black crape? We profess to believe in a better life to which the departed good are called,--to believe in the shortness of our separation, the certainty of reunion, and that all these events are arranged in all their relations by an infinite tenderness which cannot err. Surely, Christian funerals too often seem to say that affliction 'cometh of the dust,' and not from above." "But," said Bob, "after all, death is a horror; you can make nothing less of it. You can't smooth it over, nor dress it with flowers; it is what Nature shudders at." "It is precisely for this reason," said I, "that Christians should avoid those customs which aggravate and intensify this natural dread. Why overpower the senses with doleful and funereal images in the hour of weakness and bereavement, when the soul needs all her force to rise above the gloom of earth, and to realize the mysteries of faith? Why shut the friendly sunshine from the mourner's room? Why muffle in a white shroud every picture that speaks a cheerful household word to the eye? Why make a house look stiff and ghastly and cold as a corpse? In some of our cities, on the occurrence of a death in the family, all the shutters on the street are closed and tied with black crape, and so remain for months. What an oppressive gloom must this bring on a house! how like the very shadow of death! It is enlisting the nerves and the senses against our religion, and making more difficult the great duty of returning to life and its interests. I would have flowers and sunshine in the deserted rooms, and make them symbolical of the cheerful mansions above, to which our beloved ones are gone. Home ought to be so religiously cheerful, so penetrated by the life of love and hope and Christian faith, that the other world may be made real by it. Our home life should be a type of the higher life. Our home should be so sanctified, its joys and its sorrows so baptized and hallowed, that it shall not be sacrilegious to think of heaven as a higher form of the same thing,--a Father's house in the better country, whose mansions are many, whose love is perfect, whose joy is eternal." THE CHIMNEY-CORNER I WHAT WILL YOU DO WITH HER? OR, THE WOMAN QUESTION "Well, what will you do with her?" said I to my wife. My wife had just come down from an interview with a pale, faded-looking young woman in rusty black attire, who had called upon me on the very common supposition that I was an editor of the "Atlantic Monthly." By the by, this is a mistake that brings me, Christopher Crowfield, many letters that do not belong to me, and which might with equal pertinency be addressed, "To the Man in the Moon." Yet these letters often make my heart ache,--they speak so of people who strive and sorrow and want help; and it is hard to be called on in plaintive tones for help which you know it is perfectly impossible for you to give. For instance, you get a letter in a delicate hand, setting forth the old distress,--she is poor, and she has looking to her for support those that are poorer and more helpless than herself: she has tried sewing, but can make little at it; tried teaching, but cannot now get a school,--all places being filled, and more than filled; at last has tried literature, and written some little things, of which she sends you a modest specimen, and wants your opinion whether she can gain her living by writing. You run over the articles, and perceive at a glance that there is no kind of hope or use in her trying to do anything at literature; and then you ask yourself mentally, "What is to be done with her? What can she do?" Such was the application that had come to me this morning,--only, instead of by note, it came, as I have said, in the person of the applicant, a thin, delicate, consumptive-looking being, wearing that rusty mourning which speaks sadly at once of heart bereavement and material poverty. My usual course is to turn such cases over to Mrs. Crowfield; and it is to be confessed that this worthy woman spends a large portion of her time, and wears out an extraordinary amount of shoe-leather, in performing the duties of a self-constituted intelligence office. Talk of giving money to the poor! what is that, compared to giving sympathy, thought, time, taking their burdens upon you, sharing their perplexities? They who are able to buy off every application at the door of their heart with a five or ten dollar bill are those who free themselves at least expense. My wife had communicated to our friend, in the gentlest tones and in the blandest manner, that her poor little pieces, however interesting to her own household circle, had nothing in them wherewith to enable her to make her way in the thronged and crowded thoroughfare of letters,--that they had no more strength or adaptation to win bread for her than a broken-winged butterfly to draw a plough; and it took some resolution in the background of her tenderness to make the poor applicant entirely certain of this. In cases like this, absolute certainty is the very greatest, the only true kindness. It was grievous, my wife said, to see the discouraged shade which passed over her thin, tremulous features when this certainty forced itself upon her. It is hard, when sinking in the waves, to see the frail bush at which the hand clutches uprooted; hard, when alone in the crowded thoroughfare of travel, to have one's last bank-note declared a counterfeit. I knew I should not be able to see her face, under the shade of this disappointment; and so, coward that I was, I turned this trouble, where I have turned so many others, upon my wife. "Well, what shall we do with her?" said I. "I really don't know," said my wife musingly. "Do you think we could get that school in Taunton for her?" "Impossible; Mr. Herbert told me he had already twelve applicants for it." "Couldn't you get her plain sewing? Is she handy with her needle?" "She has tried that, but it brings on a pain in her side, and cough; and the doctor has told her it will not do for her to confine herself." "How is her handwriting? Does she write a good hand?" "Only passable." "Because," said I, "I was thinking if I could get Steele and Simpson to give her law papers to copy." "They have more copyists than they need now; and, in fact, this woman does not write the sort of hand at all that would enable her to get on as a copyist." "Well," said I, turning uneasily in my chair, and at last hitting on a bright masculine expedient, "I'll tell you what must be done. She must get married." "My dear," said my wife, "marrying for a living is the very hardest way a woman can take to get it. Even marrying for love often turns out badly enough. Witness poor Jane." Jane was one of the large number of people whom it seemed my wife's fortune to carry through life on her back. She was a pretty, smiling, pleasing daughter of Erin, who had been in our family originally as nursery-maid. I had been greatly pleased in watching a little idyllic affair growing up between her and a joyous, good-natured young Irishman, to whom at last we married her. Mike soon after, however, took to drinking and unsteady courses; and the result has been to Jane only a yearly baby, with poor health and no money. "In fact," said my wife, "if Jane had only kept single, she could have made her own way well enough, and might have now been in good health and had a pretty sum in the savings bank. As it is, I must carry not only her, but her three children, on my back." "You ought to drop her, my dear. You really ought not to burden yourself with other people's affairs as you do," said I inconsistently. "How can I drop her? Can I help knowing that she is poor and suffering? And if I drop her, who will take her up?" Now there is a way of getting rid of cases of this kind, spoken of in a quaint old book, which occurred strongly to me at this moment:-- "If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, 'Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled,' notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body, what doth it profit?" I must confess, notwithstanding the strong point of the closing question, I looked with an evil eye of longing on this very easy way of disposing of such cases. A few sympathizing words, a few expressions of hope that I did not feel, a line written to turn the case into somebody else's hands,--any expedient, in fact, to hide the longing eyes and imploring hands from my sight,--was what my carnal nature at this moment greatly craved. "Besides," said my wife, resuming the thread of her thoughts in regard to the subject just now before us, "as to marriage, it's out of the question at present for this poor child; for the man she loved and would have married lies low in one of the graves before Richmond. It's a sad story,--one of a thousand like it. She brightened for a few moments, and looked almost handsome, when she spoke of his bravery and goodness. Her father and lover have both died in this war. Her only brother has returned from it a broken-down cripple, and she has him and her poor old mother to care for, and so she seeks work. I told her to come again to-morrow, and I would look about for her a little to-day." "Let me see, how many are now down on your list to be looked about for, Mrs. Crowfield?--some twelve or thirteen, are there not? You've got Tom's sister disposed of finally, I hope,--that's a comfort!" "Well, I'm sorry to say she came back on my hands yesterday," said my wife patiently. "She is a foolish young thing, and said she didn't like living out in the country. I'm sorry, because the Morrises are an excellent family, and she might have had a life home there, if she had only been steady, and chosen to behave herself properly. But yesterday I found her back on her mother's hands again; and the poor woman told me that the dear child never could bear to be separated from her, and that she hadn't the heart to send her back." "And in short," said I, "she gave you notice that you must provide for Miss O'Connor in some more agreeable way. Cross that name off your list, at any rate. That woman and girl need a few hard raps in the school of experience before you can do anything for them." "I think I shall," said my long-suffering wife; "but it's a pity to see a young thing put in the direct road to ruin." "It is one of the inevitables," said I, "and we must save our strength for those that are willing to help themselves." "What's all this talk about?" said Bob, coming in upon us rather brusquely. "Oh, as usual, the old question," said I,--"'What's to be done with her?'" "Well," said Bob, "it's exactly what I've come to talk with mother about. Since she keeps a distressed women's agency office, I've come to consult her about Marianne. That woman will die before six months are out, a victim to high civilization and the Paddies. There we are, twelve miles out from Boston, in a country villa so convenient that every part of it might almost do its own work,--everything arranged in the most convenient, contiguous, self-adjusting, self-acting, patent-right, perfective manner,--and yet I tell you Marianne will die of that house. It will yet be recorded on her tombstone, 'Died of conveniences.' For myself, what I languish for is a log-cabin, with a bed in one corner, a trundle-bed underneath for the children, a fireplace only six feet off, a table, four chairs, one kettle, a coffee-pot, and a tin baker,--that's all. I lived deliciously in an establishment of this kind last summer, when I was up at Lake Superior; and I am convinced, if I could move Marianne into it at once, that she would become a healthy and a happy woman. Her life is smothered out of her with comforts; we have too many rooms, too many carpets, too many vases and knick-knacks, too much china and silver; she has too many laces and dresses and bonnets; the children all have too many clothes: in fact, to put it scripturally, our riches are corrupted, our garments are moth-eaten, our gold and our silver is cankered, and, in short, Marianne is sick in bed, and I have come to the agency office for distressed women to take you out to attend to her. "The fact is," continued Bob, "that since our cook married, and Alice went to California, there seems to be no possibility of putting our domestic cabinet upon any permanent basis. The number of female persons that have been through our house, and the ravages they have wrought on it for the last six months, pass belief. I had yesterday a bill of sixty dollars' plumbing to pay for damages of various kinds which had had to be repaired in our very convenient water-works; and the blame of each particular one had been bandied like a shuttlecock among our three household divinities. Biddy privately assured my wife that Kate was in the habit of emptying dustpans of rubbish into the main drain from the chambers, and washing any little extra bits down through the bowls; and, in fact, when one of the bathing-room bowls had overflowed so as to damage the frescoes below, my wife, with great delicacy and precaution, interrogated Kate as to whether she had followed her instructions in the care of the water-pipes. Of course she protested the most immaculate care and circumspection. 'Sure, and she knew how careful one ought to be, and wasn't of the likes of thim as wouldn't mind what throuble they made,--like Biddy, who would throw trash and hair in the pipes, and niver listen to her tellin'; sure, and hadn't she broken the pipes in the kitchen, and lost the stoppers, as it was a shame to see in a Christian house?' Ann, the third girl, being privately questioned, blamed Biddy on Monday, and Kate on Tuesday; on Wednesday, however, she exonerated both; but on Thursday, being in a high quarrel with both, she departed, accusing them severally, not only of all the evil practices aforesaid, but of lying and stealing, and all other miscellaneous wickednesses that came to hand. Whereat the two thus accused rushed in, bewailing themselves and cursing Ann in alternate strophes, averring that she had given the baby laudanum, and, taking it out riding, had stopped for hours with it in a filthy lane where the scarlet fever was said to be rife,--in short, made so fearful a picture that Marianne gave up the child's life at once, and has taken to her bed. I have endeavored all I could to quiet her, by telling her that the scarlet fever story was probably an extemporaneous work of fiction, got up to gratify the Hibernian anger at Ann; and that it wasn't in the least worth while to believe one thing more than another from the fact that any of the tribe said it. But she refuses to be comforted, and is so Utopian as to lie there crying, 'Oh, if I only could get one that I could trust,--one that would really speak the truth to me,--one that I might know really went where she said she went, and really did as she said she did!' To have to live so, she says, and bring up little children with those she can't trust out of her sight, whose word is good for nothing,--to feel that her beautiful house and her lovely things are all going to rack and ruin, and she can't take care of them, and can't see where or when or how the mischief is done,--in short, the poor child talks as women do who are violently attacked with housekeeping fever tending to congestion of the brain. She actually yesterday told me that she wished, on the whole, she never had got married, which I take to be the most positive indication of mental alienation." "Here," said I, "we behold at this moment two women dying for the want of what they can mutually give one another,--each having a supply of what the other needs, but held back by certain invisible cobwebs, slight but strong, from coming to each other's assistance. Marianne has money enough, but she wants a helper in her family, such as all her money has been hitherto unable to buy; and here, close at hand, is a woman who wants home shelter, healthy, varied, active, cheerful labor, with nourishing food, kind care, and good wages. What hinders these women from rushing to the help of one another, just as two drops of water on a leaf rush together and make one? Nothing but a miserable prejudice,--but a prejudice so strong that women will starve in any other mode of life rather than accept competency and comfort in this." "You don't mean," said my wife, "to propose that our protégée should go to Marianne as a servant?" "I do say it would be the best thing for her to do,--the only opening that I see, and a very good one, too, it is. Just look at it. Her bare living at this moment cannot cost her less than five or six dollars a week,--everything at the present time is so very dear in the city. Now by what possible calling open to her capacity can she pay her board and washing, fuel and lights, and clear a hundred and some odd dollars a year? She could not do it as a district school teacher; she certainly cannot, with her feeble health, do it by plain sewing; she could not do it as a copyist. A robust woman might go into a factory and earn more; but factory work is unintermitted, twelve hours daily, week in and out, in the same movement, in close air, amid the clatter of machinery; and a person delicately organized soon sinks under it. It takes a stolid, enduring temperament to bear factory labor. Now look at Marianne's house and family, and see what is insured to your protégée there. "In the first place, a home,--a neat, quiet chamber, quite as good as she has probably been accustomed to,--the very best of food, served in a pleasant, light, airy kitchen, which is one of the most agreeable rooms in the house, and the table and table service quite equal to those of most farmers and mechanics. Then her daily tasks would be light and varied,--some sweeping, some dusting, the washing and dressing of children, the care of their rooms and the nursery,--all of it the most healthful, the most natural work of a woman,--work alternating with rest, and diverting thought from painful subjects by its variety, and, what is more, a kind of work in which a good Christian woman might have satisfaction, as feeling herself useful in the highest and best way; for the child's nurse, if she be a pious, well-educated woman, may make the whole course of nursery life an education in goodness. Then, what is far different from any other modes of gaining a livelihood, a woman in this capacity can make and feel herself really and truly beloved. The hearts of little children are easily gained, and their love is real and warm, and no true woman can become the object of it without feeling her own life made brighter. Again, she would have in Marianne a sincere, warm-hearted friend, who would care for her tenderly, respect her sorrows, shelter her feelings, be considerate of her wants, and in every way aid her in the cause she has most at heart,--the succor of her family. There are many ways besides her wages in which she would infallibly be assisted by Marianne, so that the probability would be that she could send her little salary almost untouched to those for whose support she was toiling,--all this on her part." "But," added my wife, "on the other hand, she would be obliged to associate and be ranked with common Irish servants." "Well," I answered, "is there any occupation, by which any of us gain our living, which has not its disagreeable side? Does not the lawyer spend all his days either in a dusty office or in the foul air of a court-room? Is he not brought into much disagreeable contact with the lowest class of society? Are not his labors dry and hard and exhausting? Does not the blacksmith spend half his life in soot and grime, that he may gain a competence for the other half? If this woman were to work in a factory, would she not often be brought into associations distasteful to her? Might it not be the same in any of the arts and trades in which a living is to be got? There must be unpleasant circumstances about earning a living in any way, only I maintain that those which a woman would be likely to meet with as a servant in a refined, well-bred Christian family would be less than in almost any other calling. Are there no trials to a woman, I beg to know, in teaching a district school, where all the boys, big and little, of a neighborhood congregate? For my part, were it my daughter or sister who was in necessitous circumstances, I would choose for her a position such as I name, in a kind, intelligent, Christian family, before many of those to which women do devote themselves." "Well," said Bob, "all this has a good sound enough, but it's quite impossible. It's true, I verily believe, that such a kind of servant in our family would really prolong Marianne's life years,--that it would improve her health, and be an unspeakable blessing to her, to me, and the children,--and I would almost go down on my knees to a really well-educated, good American woman who would come into our family and take that place; but I know it's perfectly vain and useless to expect it. You know we have tried the experiment two or three times of having a person in our family who should be on the footing of a friend, yet do the duties of a servant, and that we never could make it work well. These half-and-half people are so sensitive, so exacting in their demands, so hard to please, that we have come to the firm determination that we will have no sliding-scale in our family, and that whoever we are to depend on must come with bona fide willingness to take the position of a servant, such as that position is in our house; and that, I suppose, your protégée would never do, even if she could thereby live easier, have less hard work, better health, and quite as much money as she could earn in any other way." "She would consider it a personal degradation, I suppose," said my wife. "And yet, if she only knew it," said Bob, "I should respect her far more profoundly for her willingness to take that position, when adverse fortune has shut other doors." "Well, now," said I, "this woman is, as I understand, the daughter of a respectable stone-mason, and the domestic habits of her early life have probably been economical and simple. Like most of our mechanics' daughters, she has received in one of our high schools an education which has cultivated and developed her mind far beyond those of her parents and the associates of her childhood. This is a common fact in our American life. By our high schools the daughters of plain workingmen are raised to a state of intellectual culture which seems to make the disposition of them in any kind of industrial calling a difficult one. They all want to teach school,--and schoolteaching, consequently, is an overcrowded profession,--and, failing that, there is only millinery and dressmaking. Of late, it is true, efforts have been made in various directions to widen their sphere. Typesetting and bookkeeping are in some instances beginning to be open to them. "All this time there is lying, neglected and despised, a calling to which womanly talents and instincts are peculiarly fitted,--a calling full of opportunities of the most lasting usefulness; a calling which insures a settled home, respectable protection, healthful exercise, good air, good food, and good wages; a calling in which a woman may make real friends, and secure to herself warm affection: and yet this calling is the one always refused, shunned, contemned, left to the alien and the stranger, and that simply and solely because it bears the name of _servant_. A Christian woman, who holds the name of Christ in her heart in true devotion, would think it the greatest possible misfortune and degradation to become like him in taking upon her 'the form of a servant.' The founder of Christianity says: 'Whether is greater, he that sitteth at meat or he that serveth? But _I_ am among you as he that serveth.' But notwithstanding these so plain declarations of Jesus, we find that scarce any one in a Christian land will accept real advantages of position and employment that come with that name and condition." "I suppose," said my wife, "I could prevail upon this woman to do all the duties of the situation, if she could be, as they phrase it, 'treated as one of the family.'" "That is to say," said Bob, "if she could sit with us at the same table, be introduced to our friends, and be in all respects as one of us. Now, as to this, I am free to say that I have no false aristocratic scruples. I consider every well-educated woman as fully my equal, not to say my superior; but it does not follow from this that she would be one whom I should wish to make a third party with me and my wife at meal-times. Our meals are often our seasons of privacy,--the times when we wish in perfect unreserve to speak of matters that concern ourselves and our family alone. Even invited guests and family friends would not be always welcome, however agreeable at times. Now a woman may be perfectly worthy of respect, and we may be perfectly respectful to her, whom nevertheless we do not wish to take into the circle of intimate friendship. I regard the position of a woman who comes to perform domestic service as I do any other business relation. We have a very respectable young lady in our employ who does legal copying for us, and all is perfectly pleasant and agreeable in our mutual relations; but the case would be far otherwise were she to take it into her head that we treated her with contempt, because my wife did not call on her, and because she was not occasionally invited to tea. Besides, I apprehend that a woman of quick sensibilities, employed in domestic service, and who was so far treated as a member of the family as to share our table, would find her position even more painful and embarrassing than if she took once for all the position of a servant. We could not control the feelings of our friends; we could not always insure that they would be free from aristocratic prejudice, even were we so ourselves. We could not force her upon their acquaintance, and she might feel far more slighted than she would in a position where no attentions of any kind were to be expected. Besides which, I have always noticed that persons standing in this uncertain position are objects of peculiar antipathy to the servants in full; that they are the cause of constant and secret cabals and discontents; and that a family where the two orders exist has always raked up in it the smouldering embers of a quarrel ready at any time to burst out into open feud." "Well," said I, "here lies the problem of American life. Half our women, like Marianne, are being faded and made old before their time by exhausting endeavors to lead a life of high civilization and refinement with only such untrained help as is washed up on our shores by the tide of emigration. Our houses are built upon a plan that precludes the necessity of much hard labor, but requires rather careful and nice handling. A well-trained, intelligent woman, who had vitalized her finger-ends by means of a well-developed brain, could do all the work of such a house with comparatively little physical fatigue. So stands the case as regards our houses. Now, over against the women that are perishing in them from too much care, there is another class of American women that are wandering up and down, perishing for lack of some remunerating employment. That class of women, whose developed brains and less developed muscles mark them as peculiarly fitted for the performance of the labors of a high civilization, stand utterly aloof from paid domestic service. Sooner beg, sooner starve, sooner marry for money, sooner hang on as dependents in families where they know they are not wanted, than accept of a quiet home, easy, healthful work, and certain wages, in these refined and pleasant modern dwellings of ours." "What is the reason of this?" said Bob. "The reason is, that we have not yet come to the full development of Christian democracy. The taint of old aristocracies is yet pervading all parts of our society. We have not yet realized fully the true dignity of labor, and the surpassing dignity of domestic labor. And I must say that the valuable and courageous women who have agitated the doctrines of Woman's Rights among us have not in all things seen their way clear in this matter." "Don't talk to me of those creatures," said Bob, "those men-women, those anomalies, neither flesh nor fish, with their conventions, and their cracked woman-voices strained in what they call public speaking, but which I call public squeaking! No man reverences true women more than I do. I hold a real, true, thoroughly good _woman_, whether in my parlor or my kitchen, as my superior. She can always teach me something that I need to know. She has always in her somewhat of the divine gift of prophecy; but in order to keep it, she must remain a woman. When she crops her hair, puts on pantaloons, and strides about in conventions, she is an abortion, and not a woman." "Come! come!" said I, "after all, speak with deference. We that choose to wear soft clothing and dwell in kings' houses must respect the Baptists, who wear leathern girdles, and eat locusts and wild honey. They are the voices crying in the wilderness, preparing the way for a coming good. They go down on their knees in the mire of life to lift up and brighten and restore a neglected truth; and we that have not the energy to share their struggle should at least refrain from criticising their soiled garments and ungraceful action. There have been excrescences, eccentricities, peculiarities, about the camp of these reformers; but the body of them have been true and noble women, and worthy of all the reverence due to such. They have already in many of our States reformed the laws relating to woman's position, and placed her on a more just and Christian basis. It is through their movements that in many of our States a woman can hold the fruits of her own earnings, if it be her ill luck to have a worthless, drunken spendthrift for a husband. It is owing to their exertions that new trades and professions are opening to woman; and all that I have to say to them is, that in the suddenness of their zeal for opening new paths for her feet, they have not sufficiently considered the propriety of straightening, widening, and mending the one broad, good old path of domestic labor, established by God himself. It does appear to me, that, if at least a portion of their zeal could be spent in removing the stones out of this highway of domestic life, and making it pleasant and honorable, they would effect even more. I would not have them leave undone what they are doing; but I would, were I worthy to be considered, humbly suggest to their prophetic wisdom and enthusiasm, whether, in this new future of women which they wish to introduce, women's natural, God-given employment of _domestic service_ is not to receive a new character, and rise in a new form. "'To love and serve' is a motto worn with pride on some aristocratic family shields in England. It ought to be graven on the Christian shield. _Servant_ is the name which Christ gives to the _Christian_; and in speaking of his kingdom as distinguished from earthly kingdoms, he distinctly said, that rank there should be conditioned, not upon desire to command, but on willingness to serve. "'Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them, and they that are great exercise authority upon them. But it shall not be so among you: but whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minister; and whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your _servant_.' "Why is it, that this name of servant, which Christ says is the highest in the kingdom of heaven, is so dishonored among us professing Christians, that good women will beg or starve, will suffer almost any extreme of poverty and privation, rather than accept home, competence, security, with this honored name?" "The fault with many of our friends of the Woman's Rights order," said my wife, "is the depreciatory tone in which they have spoken of the domestic labors of a family as being altogether below the scope of the faculties of woman. '_Domestic drudgery_' they call it,--an expression that has done more harm than any two words that ever were put together. "Think of a woman's calling clear-starching and ironing domestic drudgery, and to better the matter turning to typesetting in a grimy printing office! Call the care of china and silver, the sweeping of carpets, the arrangement of parlors and sitting-rooms, drudgery; and go into a factory and spend the day amid the whir and clatter and thunder of machinery, inhaling an atmosphere loaded with wool and machine grease, and keeping on the feet for twelve hours, nearly continuously! Think of its being called drudgery to take care of a clean, light, airy nursery, to wash and dress and care for two or three children, to mend their clothes, tell them stories, make them playthings, take them out walking or driving; and rather than this, to wear out the whole livelong day, extending often deep into the night, in endless sewing, in a close room of a dressmaking establishment! Is it any less drudgery to stand all day behind a counter, serving customers, than to tend a doorbell and wait on a table? For my part," said my wife, "I have often thought the matter over, and concluded, that, if I were left in straitened circumstances, as many are in a great city, I would seek a position as a servant in one of our good families." "I envy the family that you even think of in that connection," said I. "I fancy the amazement which would take possession of them as you began to develop among them." "I have always held," said my wife, "that family work, in many of its branches, can be better performed by an educated woman than an uneducated one. Just as an army where even the bayonets think is superior to one of mere brute force and mechanical training, so, I have heard it said, some of our distinguished modern female reformers show an equal superiority in the domestic sphere,--and I do not doubt it. Family work was never meant to be the special province of untaught brains. I have sometimes thought I should like to show what I could do as a servant." "Well," said Bob, "to return from all this to the question, What's to be done with her? Are you going to _my_ distressed woman? If you are, suppose you take _your_ distressed woman along, and ask her to try it. I can promise her a pleasant house, a quiet room by herself, healthful and not too hard work, a kind friend, and some leisure for reading, writing, or whatever other pursuit of her own she may choose for her recreation. We are always quite willing to lend books to any who appreciate them. Our house is surrounded by pleasant grounds, which are open to our servants as to ourselves. So let her come and try us. I am quite sure that country air, quiet security, and moderate exercise in a good home, will bring up her health; and if she is willing to take the one or two disagreeables which may come with all this, let her try us." "Well," said I, "so be it; and would that all the women seeking homes and employment could thus fall in with women who have homes and are perishing in them for want of educated helpers!" On this question of woman's work I have yet more to say, but must defer it till another time. II WOMAN'S SPHERE "What do you think of this Woman's Rights question?" said Bob Stephens. "From some of your remarks, I apprehend that you think there is something in it. I may be wrong, but I must confess that I have looked with disgust on the whole movement. No man reverences women as I do; but I reverence them _as_ women. I reverence them for those very things in which their sex differs from ours; but when they come upon our ground, and begin to work and fight after our manner and with our weapons, I regard them as fearful anomalies, neither men nor women. These Woman's Rights Conventions appear to me to have ventilated crudities, absurdities, and blasphemies. To hear them talk about men, one would suppose that the two sexes were natural-born enemies, and wonder whether they ever had fathers and brothers. One would think, upon their showing, that all men were a set of ruffians, in league against women,--they seeming, at the same time, to forget how on their very platforms the most constant and gallant defenders of their rights are men. Wendell Phillips and Wentworth Higginson have put at the service of the cause masculine training and manly vehemence, and complacently accepted the wholesale abuse of their own sex at the hands of their warrior sisters. One would think, were all they say of female powers true, that our Joan-of-Arcs ought to have disdained to fight under male captains." "I think," said my wife, "that, in all this talk about the rights of men, and the rights of women, and the rights of children, the world seems to be forgetting what is quite as important, the _duties_ of men and women and children. We all hear of our _rights_ till we forget our _duties_; and even theology is beginning to concern itself more with what man has a right to expect of his Creator than what the Creator has a right to expect of man." "You say the truth," said I; "there is danger of just this overaction; and yet rights must be discussed; because, in order to understand the duties we owe to any class, we must understand their rights. To know our duties to men, women, and children, we must know what the rights of men, women, and children justly are. As to the 'Woman's Rights movement,' it is not peculiar to America, it is part of a great wave in the incoming tide of modern civilization; the swell is felt no less in Europe, but it combs over and breaks on our American shore, because our great wide beach affords the best play for its waters; and as the ocean waves bring with them kelp, seaweed, mud, sand, gravel, and even putrefying débris, which lie unsightly on the shore, and yet, on the whole, are healthful and refreshing,--so the Woman's Rights movement, with its conventions, its speech-makings, its crudities, and eccentricities, is nevertheless a part of a healthful and necessary movement of the human race towards progress. This question of Woman and her Sphere is now, perhaps, the greatest of the age. We have put Slavery under foot, and with the downfall of Slavery the only obstacle to the success of our great democratic experiment is overthrown, and there seems no limit to the splendid possibilities which it may open before the human race. "In the reconstruction that is now coming there lies more than the reconstruction of States and the arrangement of the machinery of government. We need to know and feel, all of us, that, from the moment of the death of Slavery, we parted finally from the régime and control of all the old ideas formed under old oppressive systems of society, and came upon a new plane of life. "In this new life we must never forget that we are a peculiar people, that we have to walk in paths unknown to the Old World,--paths where its wisdom cannot guide us, where its precedents can be of little use to us, and its criticisms, in most cases, must be wholly irrelevant. The history of our war has shown us of how little service to us in any important crisis the opinions and advice of the Old World can be. We have been hurt at what seemed to us the want of sympathy, the direct antagonism, of England. We might have been less hurt if we had properly understood that Providence had placed us in a position so far ahead of her ideas or power of comprehension that just judgment or sympathy was not to be expected from her. "As we went through our great war with no help but that of God, obliged to disregard the misconceptions and impertinences which the foreign press rained down upon us, so, if we are wise, we shall continue to do. Our object must now be to make the principles on which our government is founded permeate consistently the mass of society, and to purge out the leaven of aristocratic and Old World ideas. So long as there is an illogical working in our actual life, so long as there is any class denied equal rights with other classes, so long will there be agitation and trouble." "Then," said my wife, "you believe that women ought to vote?" "If the principle on which we founded our government is true, that taxation must not exist without representation, and if women hold property and are taxed, it follows that women should be represented in the State by their votes, or there is an illogical working of our government." "But, my dear, don't you think that this will have a bad effect on the female character?" "Yes," said Bob, "it will make women caucus holders, political candidates." "It may make this of some women, just as of some men," said I. "But all men do not take any great interest in politics; it is very difficult to get some of the best of them to do their duty in voting, and the same will be found true among women." "But, after all," said Bob, "what do you gain? What will a woman's vote be but a duplicate of that of her husband or father, or whatever man happens to be her adviser?" "That may be true on a variety of questions; but there are subjects on which the vote of women would, I think, be essentially different from that of men. On the subjects of temperance, public morals, and education, I have no doubt that the introduction of the female vote into legislation, in States, counties, and cities, would produce results very different from that of men alone. There are thousands of women who would close grog-shops, and stop the traffic in spirits, if they had the legislative power; and it would be well for society if they had. In fact, I think that a State can no more afford to dispense with the vote of women in its affairs than a family. Imagine a family where the female has no voice in the housekeeping! A State is but a larger family, and there are many of its concerns which, equally with those of a private household, would be bettered by female supervision." "But fancy women going to those horrible voting-places! It is more than I can do myself," said Bob. "But you forget," said I, "that they are horrible and disgusting principally because women never go to them. All places where women are excluded tend downward to barbarism; but the moment she is introduced, there come in with her courtesy, cleanliness, sobriety, and order. When a man can walk up to the ballot-box with his wife or his sister on his arm, voting-places will be far more agreeable than now, and the polls will not be such bear-gardens that refined men will be constantly tempted to omit their political duties there. "If for nothing else, I would have women vote, that the business of voting may not be so disagreeable and intolerable to men of refinement as it now is; and I sincerely believe that the cause of good morals, good order, cleanliness, and public health would be a gainer not merely by the added feminine vote, but by the added vote of a great many excellent but too fastidious men, who are now kept from the polls by the disagreeables they meet there. "Do you suppose that, if women had equal representation with men in the municipal laws of New York, its reputation for filth during the last year would have gone so far beyond that of Cologne, or any other city renowned for bad smells? I trow not. I believe a lady mayoress would have brought in a dispensation of brooms and whitewash, and made a terrible searching into dark holes and vile corners, before now. Female New York, I have faith to believe, has yet left in her enough of the primary instincts of womanhood to give us a clean, healthy city, if female votes had any power to do it." "But," said Bob, "you forget that voting would bring together all the women of the lower classes." "Yes; but, thanks to the instincts of their sex, they would come in their Sunday clothes; for where is the woman that hasn't her finery, and will not embrace every chance to show it? Biddy's parasol, and hat with pink ribbons, would necessitate a clean shirt in Pat as much as on Sunday. Voting would become a fête, and we should have a population at the polls as well-dressed as at church. Such is my belief." "I do not see," said Bob, "but you go to the full extent with our modern female reformers." "There are certain neglected truths, which have been held up by these reformers, that are gradually being accepted and infused into the life of modern society; and their recognition will help to solidify and purify democratic institutions. They are:-- "1. The right of every woman to hold independent property. "2. The right of every woman to receive equal pay with man for work which she does equally well. "3. The right of any woman to do any work for which, by her natural organization and talent, she is peculiarly adapted. "Under the first head, our energetic sisters have already, by the help of their gallant male adjutants, reformed the laws of several of our States, so that a married woman is no longer left the unprotected legal slave of any unprincipled, drunken spendthrift who may be her husband,--but, in case of the imbecility or improvidence of the natural head of the family, the wife, if she have the ability, can conduct business, make contracts, earn and retain money for the good of the household; and I am sure no one can say that immense injustice and cruelty are not thereby prevented. "It is quite easy for women who have the good fortune to have just and magnanimous husbands to say that they feel no interest in such reforms, and that they would willingly trust their property to the man to whom they give themselves; but they should remember that laws are not made for the restraint of the generous and just, but of the dishonest and base. The law which enables a married woman to hold her own property does not forbid her to give it to the man of her heart, if she so pleases; and it does protect many women who otherwise would be reduced to the extremest misery. I once knew an energetic milliner who had her shop attached four times, and a flourishing business broken up in four different cities, because she was tracked from city to city by a worthless spendthrift, who only waited till she had amassed a little property in a new place to swoop down upon and carry it off. It is to be hoped that the time is not distant when every State will give to woman a fair chance to the ownership and use of her own earnings and her own property. "Under the head of the right of every woman to do any work for which by natural organization and talent she is especially adapted, there is a word or two to be said. "The talents and tastes of the majority of women are naturally domestic. The family is evidently their sphere, because in all ways their organization fits them for that more than for anything else. "But there are occasionally women who are exceptions to the common law, gifted with peculiar genius and adaptations. With regard to such women, there has never seemed to be any doubt in the verdict of mankind that they ought to follow their nature, and that their particular sphere was the one to which they are called. Did anybody ever think that Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. Kemble and Ristori had better have applied themselves sedulously to keeping house, because they were women, and 'woman's noblest station is retreat'? "The world has always shown a fair average of good sense in this matter, from the days of the fair Hypatia in Alexandria, who, we are told, gave lectures on philosophy behind a curtain, lest her charms should distract the attention of too impressible young men, down to those of Anna Dickinson. Mankind are not, after all, quite fools, and seem in these cases to have a reasonable idea that exceptional talents have exceptional laws, and make their own code of proprieties. "Now there is no doubt that Miss Dickinson, though as relating to her femininity she is quite as pretty and modest a young woman as any to be found in the most sheltered circle, has yet a most exceptional talent for public speaking, which draws crowds to hear her, and makes lecturing for her a lucrative profession, as well as a means of advocating just and generous sentiments, and of stimulating her own sex to nobler purposes; and the same law which relates to Siddons and Kemble and Ristori relates also to her. "The doctrine of _vocations_ is a good one and a safe one. If a woman mistakes her vocation, so much the worse for her; the world does not suffer, but she does, and the suffering speedily puts her where she belongs. There is not near so much danger from attempts to imitate Anna Dickinson as there is from the more common feminine attempts to rival the _demi-monde_ of Paris in fantastic extravagance and luxury. "As to how a woman may determine whether she has any such vocation, there is a story quite in point. A good Methodist elder was listening to an ardent young mechanic who thought he had a call to throw up his shop and go to preaching. "'I feel,' said the young ardent, 'that I have a call to preach.' "'Hast thou noticed whether people seem to have a call to hear thee?' said the shrewd old man. 'I have always noticed that a true call of the Lord may be known by this, that people have a _call_ to hear.'" "Well," said Bob, "the most interesting question still remains: What are to be the employments of woman? What ways are there for her to use her talents, to earn her livelihood and support those who are dear to her, when Providence throws that necessity upon her? This is becoming more than ever one of the pressing questions of our age. The war has deprived so many thousands of women of their natural protectors, that everything must be thought of that may possibly open a way for their self-support." "Well, let us look over the field," said my wife. "What is there for woman?" "In the first place," said I, "come the professions requiring natural genius,--authorship, painting, sculpture, with the subordinate arts of photographing, coloring, and finishing; but when all is told, these furnish employment to a very limited number,--almost as nothing to the whole. Then there is teaching, which is profitable in its higher branches, and perhaps the very pleasantest of all the callings open to woman; but teaching is at present an overcrowded profession, the applicants everywhere outnumbering the places. Architecture and landscape gardening are arts every way suited to the genius of woman, and there are enough who have the requisite mechanical skill and mathematical education; and, though never yet thought of for the sex, that I know of, I do not despair of seeing those who shall find in this field a profession at once useful and elegant. When women plan dwelling-houses, the vast body of tenements to be let in our cities will wear a more domestic and comfortable air, and will be built more with reference to the real wants of their inmates." "I have thought," said Bob, "that agencies of various sorts, as canvassing the country for the sale of books, maps, and engravings, might properly employ a great many women. There is a large class whose health suffers from confinement and sedentary occupations, who might, I think, be both usefully and agreeably employed in business of this sort, and be recruiting their health at the same time." "Then," said my wife, "there is the medical profession." "Yes," said I. "The world is greatly obliged to Miss Blackwell and other noble pioneers who faced and overcame the obstacles to the attainment of a thorough medical education by females. Thanks to them, a new and lucrative profession is now open to educated women in relieving the distresses of their own sex; and we may hope that in time, through their intervention, the care of the sick may also become the vocation of cultivated, refined, intelligent women, instead of being left, as heretofore, to the ignorant and vulgar. The experience of our late war has shown us what women of a high class morally and intellectually can do in this capacity. Why should not this experience inaugurate a new and sacred calling for refined and educated women? Why should not NURSING become a vocation equal in dignity and in general esteem to the medical profession, of which it is the right hand? Why should our dearest hopes, in the hour of their greatest peril, be committed into the hands of Sairey Gamps, when the world has seen Florence Nightingales?" "Yes, indeed," said my wife; "I can testify, from my own experience, that the sufferings and dangers of the sickbed, for the want of intelligent, educated nursing, have been dreadful. A prejudiced, pig-headed, snuff-taking old woman, narrow-minded and vulgar, and more confident in her own way than seven men that can render a reason, enters your house at just the hour and moment when all your dearest earthly hopes are brought to a crisis. She becomes absolute dictator over your delicate, helpless wife and your frail babe,--the absolute dictator of all in the house. If it be her sovereign will and pleasure to enact all sorts of physiological absurdities in the premises, who shall say her nay? 'She knows her business, she hopes!' And if it be her edict, as it was of one of her class whom I knew, that each of her babies shall eat four baked beans the day it is four days old, eat them it must; and if the baby die in convulsions four days after, it is set down as the mysterious will of an overruling Providence. "I know and have seen women lying upon laced pillows, under silken curtains, who have been bullied and dominated over in the hour of their greatest helplessness by ignorant and vulgar tyrants, in a way that would scarce be thought possible in civilized society, and children that have been injured or done to death by the same means. A celebrated physician told me of a babe whose eyesight was nearly ruined by its nurse taking a fancy to wash its eyes with camphor,--'to keep it from catching cold,' she said. I knew another infant that was poisoned by the nurse giving it laudanum in some of those patent nostrums which these ignorant creatures carry secretly in their pockets, to secure quiet in their little charges. I knew one delicate woman who never recovered from the effects of being left at her first confinement in the hands of an ill-tempered, drinking nurse, and whose feeble infant was neglected and abused by this woman in a way to cause lasting injury. In the first four weeks of infancy the constitution is peculiarly impressible; and infants of a delicate organization may, if frightened and ill-treated, be the subjects of just such a shock to the nervous system as in mature age comes from the sudden stroke of a great affliction or terror. A bad nurse may affect nerves predisposed to weakness in a manner they never will recover from. I solemnly believe that the constitutions of more women are broken up by bad nursing in their first confinement than by any other cause whatever. And yet there are at the same time hundreds and thousands of women, wanting the means of support, whose presence in a sick-room would be a benediction. I do trust that Miss Blackwell's band of educated nurses will not be long in coming, and that the number of such may increase till they effect a complete revolution in this vocation. A class of cultivated, well-trained, intelligent nurses would soon elevate the employment of attending on the sick into the noble calling it ought to be, and secure for it its appropriate rewards." "There is another opening for woman," said I,--"in the world of business. The system of commercial colleges now spreading over our land is a new and most important development of our times. There that large class of young men who have either no time or no inclination for an extended classical education can learn what will fit them for that active material life which in our broad country needs so many workers. But the most pleasing feature of these institutions is, that the complete course is open to women no less than to men, and women there may acquire that knowledge of bookkeeping and accounts, and of the forms and principles of business transactions, which will qualify them for some of the lucrative situations hitherto monopolized by the other sex. And the expenses of the course of instruction are so arranged as to come within the scope of very moderate means. A fee of fifty dollars entitles a woman to the benefit of the whole course, and she has the privilege of attending at any hours that may suit her own engagements and convenience." "Then, again," said my wife, "there are the departments of millinery and dressmaking, and the various branches of needlework, which afford employment to thousands of women; there is typesetting, by which many are beginning to get a living; there are the manufactures of cotton, woolen, silk, and the numberless useful articles which employ female hands in their fabrication,--all of them opening avenues by which, with more or less success, a subsistence can be gained." "Well, really," said Bob, "it would appear, after all, that there are abundance of openings for women. What is the cause of the outcry and distress? How is it that we hear of women starving, driven to vice and crime by want, when so many doors of useful and profitable employment stand open to them?" "The question would easily be solved," said my wife, "if you could once see the kind and class of women who thus suffer and starve. There may be exceptions, but too large a portion of them are girls and women who can or will do no earthly thing well,--and, what is worse, are not willing to take the pains to be taught to do anything well. I will describe to you one girl, and you will find in every intelligence-office a hundred of her kind to five thoroughly trained ones. "Imprimis: she is rather delicate and genteel-looking, and you may know from the arrangement of her hair just what the last mode is of disposing of rats or waterfalls. She has a lace bonnet with roses, a silk mantilla, a silk dress trimmed with velvet, a white skirt with sixteen tucks and an embroidered edge, a pair of cloth gaiters, underneath which are a pair of stockings without feet, the only pair in her possession. She has no under-linen, and sleeps at night in the working-clothes she wears in the day. She never seems to have in her outfit either comb, brush, or tooth-brush of her own,--neither needles, thread, scissors, nor pins; her money, when she has any, being spent on more important articles, such as the lace bonnet or silk mantilla, or the rats and waterfalls that glorify her head. When she wishes to sew, she borrows what is needful of a convenient next neighbor; and if she gets a place in a family as second girl, she expects to subsist in these respects by borrowing of the better-appointed servants, or helping herself from the family stores. "She expects, of course, the very highest wages, if she condescends to live out; and by help of a trim outside appearance, and the many vacancies that are continually occurring in households, she gets places, where her object is to do just as little of any duty assigned to her as possible, to hurry through her performances, put on her fine clothes, and go a-gadding. She is on free-and-easy terms with all the men she meets, and ready at jests and repartee, sometimes far from seemly. Her time of service in any one place lasts indifferently from a fortnight to two or three months, when she takes her wages, buys her a new parasol in the latest style, and goes back to the intelligence-office. In the different families where she has lived she has been told a hundred times the proprieties of household life, how to make beds, arrange rooms, wash china, glass, and silver, and set tables; but her habitual rule is to try in each place how small and how poor services will be accepted. When she finds less will not do, she gives more. When the mistress follows her constantly, and shows an energetic determination to be well served, she shows that she can serve well; but the moment such attention relaxes, she slides back again. She is as destructive to a house as a fire; the very spirit of wastefulness is in her; she cracks the china, dents the silver, stops the water-pipes with rubbish, and, after she is gone, there is generally a sum equal to half her wages to be expended in repairing the effects of her carelessness. And yet there is one thing to be said for her: she is quite as careful of her employer's things as of her own. The full amount of her mischiefs often does not appear at once, as she is glib of tongue, adroit in apologies, and lies with as much alertness and as little thought of conscience as a blackbird chatters. It is difficult for people who have been trained from childhood in the school of verities,--who have been lectured for even the shadow of a prevarication, and shut up in disgrace for a lie, till truth becomes a habit of their souls,--it is very difficult for people so educated to understand how to get on with those who never speak the truth except by mere accident, who assert any and every thing that comes into their heads with all the assurance and all the energy of perfect verity. "What becomes of this girl? She finds means, by begging, borrowing, living out, to keep herself extremely trim and airy for a certain length of time, till the rats and waterfalls, the lace hat and parasol, and the glib tongue, have done their work in making a fool of some honest young mechanic who earns three dollars a day. She marries him with no higher object than to have somebody to earn money for her to spend. And what comes of such marriages? "That is one ending of her career; the other is on the street, in haunts of vice, in prison, in drunkenness, and death. "Whence come these girls? They are as numerous as yellow butterflies in autumn; they flutter up to cities from the country; they grow up from mothers who ran the same sort of career before them; and the reason why in the end they fall out of all reputable employment and starve on poor wages is, that they become physically, mentally, and morally incapable of rendering any service which society will think worth paying for." "I remember," said I, "that the head of the most celebrated dressmaking establishment in New York, in reply to the appeals of the needlewomen of the city for sympathy and wages, came out with published statements to this effect: that the difficulty lay, not in unwillingness of employers to pay what work was worth, but in finding any work worth paying for; that she had many applicants, but among them few who could be of real use to her; that she, in common with everybody in this country who has any kind of serious responsibilities to carry, was continually embarrassed for want of skilled work-people who could take and go on with the labor of her various departments without her constant supervision; that, out of a hundred girls, there would not be more than five to whom she could give a dress to be made and dismiss it from her mind as something certain to be properly done. "Let people individually look around their own little sphere, and ask themselves if they know any woman really excelling in any valuable calling or accomplishment who is suffering for want of work. All of us know seamstresses, dressmakers, nurses, and laundresses who have made themselves such a reputation, and are so beset and overcrowded with work, that the whole neighborhood is constantly on its knees to them with uplifted hands. The fine seamstress, who can cut and make trousseaus and layettes in elegant perfection, is always engaged six months in advance; the pet dressmaker of a neighborhood must be engaged in May for September, and in September for May; a laundress who sends your clothes home in nice order always has all the work that she can do. Good work in any department is the rarest possible thing in our American life; and it is a fact that the great majority of workers, both in the family and out, do only tolerably well,--not so badly that it actually cannot be borne, yet not so well as to be a source of real, thorough satisfaction. The exceptional worker in every neighborhood, who does things really _well_, can always set her own price, and is always having more offering than she can possibly do. "The trouble, then, in finding employment for women lies deeper than the purses or consciences of the employers: it lies in the want of education in women; the want of _education_, I say,--meaning by education that which fits a woman for practical and profitable employment in life, and not mere common-school learning." "Yes," said my wife; "for it is a fact that the most troublesome and helpless persons to provide for are often those who have a good medium education, but no feminine habits, no industry, no practical calculation, no muscular strength, and no knowledge of any one of woman's peculiar duties. In the earlier days of New England, women, as a class, had far fewer opportunities for acquiring learning, yet were far better educated, physically and morally, than now. The high school did not exist; at the common school they learned reading, writing, and arithmetic, and practiced spelling; while at home they did the work of the household. They were cheerful, bright, and active, ever on the alert, able to do anything, from the harnessing and driving of a horse to the finest embroidery. The daughters of New England in those days looked the world in the face without a fear. They shunned no labor; they were afraid of none; and they could always find their way to a living." "But although less instructed in school learning," said I, "they showed no deficiency in intellectual acumen. I see no such women, nowadays, as some I remember of that olden time,--women whose strong minds and ever-active industry carried on reading and study side by side with household toils. "I remember a young lady friend of mine, attending a celebrated boarding-school, boarded in the family of a woman who had never been to school longer than was necessary to learn to read and write, yet who was a perfect cyclopedia of general information. The young scholar used to take her Chemistry and Natural Philosophy into the kitchen, where her friend was busy with her household work, and read her lessons to her, that she might have the benefit of her explanations; and so, while the good lady scoured her andirons or kneaded her bread, she lectured to her protégée on mysteries of science far beyond the limits of the textbook. Many of the graduates of our modern high schools would find it hard to shine in conversation on the subjects they had studied, in the searching presence of some of these vigorous matrons of the olden time, whose only school had been the leisure hours gained by energy and method from their family cares." "And in those days," said my wife, "there lived in our families a class of American domestics, women of good sense and good powers of reflection, who applied this sense and power of reflection to household matters. In the early part of my married life, I myself had American 'help'; and they were not only excellent servants, but trusty and invaluable friends. But now, all this class of applicants for domestic service have disappeared, I scarce know why or how. All I know is, there is no more a Betsey or a Lois, such as used to take domestic cares off my shoulders so completely." "Good heavens! where are they?" cried Bob. "Where do they hide? I would search through the world after such a prodigy!" "The fact is," said I, "there has been a slow and gradual reaction against household labor in America. Mothers began to feel that it was a sort of _curse_, to be spared, if possible, to their daughters; women began to feel that they were fortunate in proportion as they were able to be entirely clear of family responsibilities. Then Irish labor began to come in, simultaneously with a great advance in female education. "For a long while nothing was talked of, written of, thought of, in teachers' meetings, conventions, and assemblies, but the neglected state of female education; and the whole circle of the arts and sciences was suddenly introduced into our free-school system, from which needlework as gradually and quietly was suffered to drop out. The girl who attended the primary and high school had so much study imposed on her that she had no time for sewing or housework; and the delighted mother was only too happy to darn her stockings and do the housework alone, that her daughter might rise to a higher plane than she herself had attained to. The daughter, thus educated, had, on coming to womanhood, no solidity of muscle, no manual dexterity, no practice or experience in domestic life; and if she were to seek a livelihood, there remained only teaching, or some feminine trade, or the factory." "These factories," said my wife, "have been the ruin of hundreds and hundreds of our once healthy farmers' daughters and others from the country. They go there young and unprotected; they live there in great boarding-houses, and associate with a promiscuous crowd, without even such restraints of maternal supervision as they would have in great boarding-schools; their bodies are enfeebled by labor often necessarily carried on in a foul and heated atmosphere; and at the hours when off duty, they are exposed to all the dangers of unwatched intimacy with the other sex. "Moreover, the factory girl learns and practices but one thing,--some one mechanical movement, which gives no scope for invention, ingenuity, or any other of the powers called into play by domestic labor; so that she is in reality unfitted in every way for family duties. "Many times it has been my lot to try, in my family service, girls who have left factories; and I have found them wholly useless for any of the things which a woman ought to be good for. They knew nothing of a house, or what ought to be done in it; they had imbibed a thorough contempt of household labor, and looked upon it but as a _dernier ressort_; and it was only the very lightest of its tasks that they could even begin to think of. I remember I tried to persuade one of these girls, the pretty daughter of a fisherman, to take some lessons in washing and ironing. She was at that time engaged to be married to a young mechanic, who earned something like two or three dollars a day. "'My child,' said I, 'you will need to understand all kinds of housework if you are going to be married.' "She tossed her little head,-- "'Indeed, she wasn't going to trouble herself about that.' "'But who will get up your husband's shirts?' "'Oh, he must put them out. I'm not going to be married to make a slave of myself!' "Another young factory girl, who came for table and parlor work, was so full of airs and fine notions that it seemed as difficult to treat with her as with a princess. She could not sweep, because it blistered her hands, which, in fact, were long and delicate; she could not think of putting them into hot dish-water, and for that reason preferred washing the dishes in cold water; she required a full hour in the morning to make her toilet; she was laced so tightly that she could not stoop without vertigo; and her hoops were of dimensions which seemed to render it impossible for her to wait upon table; she was quite exhausted with the effort of ironing the table-napkins and chamber-towels: yet she could not think of 'living out' under two dollars a week. "Both these girls had had a good free-school education, and could read any amount of novels, write a tolerable letter, but had not learned anything with sufficient accuracy to fit them for teachers. They were pretty, and their destiny was to marry and lie a deadweight on the hands of some honest man, and to increase, in their children, the number of incapables." "Well," said Bob, "what would you have? What is to be done?" "In the first place," said I, "I would have it felt, by those who are seeking to elevate woman, that the work is to be done, not so much by creating for her new spheres of action as by elevating her conceptions of that domestic vocation to which God and Nature have assigned her. It is all very well to open to her avenues of profit and advancement in the great outer world; but, after all, _to make and keep a home_ is, and ever must be, a woman's first glory, her highest aim. No work of art can compare with a perfect home; the training and guiding of a family must be recognized as the highest work a woman can perform; and female education ought to be conducted with special reference to this. "Men are trained to be lawyers, to be physicians, to be mechanics, by long and self-denying study and practice. A man cannot even make shoes merely by going to the high school and learning reading, writing, and mathematics; he cannot be a bookkeeper or a printer simply from general education. "Now women have a sphere and profession of their own,--a profession for which they are fitted by physical organization, by their own instincts, and to which they are directed by the pointing and manifest finger of God,--and that sphere is _family life_. Duties to the state and to public life they may have; but the public duties of women must bear to their family ones the same relation that the family duties of men bear to their public ones. The defect in the late efforts to push on female education is, that it has been for her merely general, and that it has left out and excluded all that is professional; and she undertakes the essential duties of womanhood, when they do devolve on her, without any adequate preparation." "But is it possible for a girl to learn at school the things which fit for her family life?" said Bob. "Why not?" I replied. "Once it was thought impossible in school to teach girls geometry or algebra, or the higher mathematics; it was thought impossible to put them through collegiate courses; but it has been done, and we see it. Women study treatises on political economy in schools, and why should not the study of domestic economy form a part of every school course? A young girl will stand up at the blackboard, and draw and explain the compound blowpipe, and describe all the processes of making oxygen and hydrogen. Why should she not draw and explain a refrigerator as well as an air-pump? Both are to be explained on philosophical principles. When a schoolgirl, in her chemistry, studies the reciprocal action of acids and alkalies, what is there to hinder the teaching her its application to the various processes of cooking where acids and alkalies are employed? Why should she not be led to see how effervescence and fermentation can be made to perform their office in the preparation of light and digestible bread? Why should she not be taught the chemical substances by which food is often adulterated, and the test by which such adulterations are detected? Why should she not understand the processes of confectionery, and know how to guard against the deleterious or poisonous elements that are introduced into children's sugar-plums and candies? Why, when she learns the doctrine of mordants, the substances by which different colors are set, should she not learn it with some practical view to future life, so that she may know how to set the color of a fading calico or restore the color of a spotted one? Why, in short, when a girl has labored through a profound chemical work, and listened to courses of chemical lectures, should she come to domestic life, which presents a constant series of chemical experiments and changes, and go blindly along as without chart or compass, unable to tell what will take out a stain, or what will brighten a metal, what are common poisons and what their antidotes, and not knowing enough of the laws of caloric to understand how to warm a house, or of the laws of atmosphere to know how to ventilate one? Why should the preparation of food, that subtile art on which life, health, cheerfulness, good temper, and good looks so largely depend, forever be left in the hands of the illiterate and vulgar? "A benevolent gentleman has lately left a large fortune for the founding of a university for women; and the object is stated to be to give to women who have already acquired a general education the means of acquiring a professional one, to fit themselves for some employment by which they may gain a livelihood. "In this institution the women are to be instructed in bookkeeping, stenography, telegraphing, photographing, drawing, modeling, and various other arts; but, so far as I remember, there is no proposal to teach domestic economy as at least _one_ of woman's professions. "Why should there not be a professor of domestic economy in every large female school? Why should not this professor give lectures, first on house planning and building, illustrated by appropriate apparatus? Why should not the pupils have presented to their inspection models of houses planned with reference to economy, to ease of domestic service, to warmth, to ventilation, and to architectural appearance? Why should not the professor go on to lecture further on house-fixtures, with models of the best mangles, washing-machines, clothes-wringers, ranges, furnaces, and cooking-stoves, together with drawings and apparatus illustrative of domestic hydraulics, showing the best contrivances for bathing-rooms and the obvious principles of plumbing, so that the pupils may have some idea how to work the machinery of a convenient house when they have it, and to have such conveniences introduced when wanting? If it is thought worth while to provide at great expense apparatus for teaching the revolutions of Saturn's moons and the precession of the equinoxes, why should there not be some also to teach what it may greatly concern a woman's earthly happiness to know? "Why should not the professor lecture on home chemistry, devoting his first lecture to bread-making? and why might not a batch of bread be made and baked and exhibited to the class, together with specimens of morbid anatomy in the bread line,--the sour cotton bread of the baker; the rough, big-holed bread; the heavy, fossil bread; the bitter bread of too much yeast,--and the causes of their defects pointed out? And so with regard to the various articles of food,--why might not chemical lectures be given on all of them, one after another? In short, it would be easy to trace out a course of lectures on common things to occupy a whole year, and for which the pupils, whenever they come to have homes of their own, will thank the lecturer to the last day of their life. "Then there is no impossibility in teaching needlework, the cutting and fitting of dresses, in female schools. The thing is done very perfectly in English schools for the working classes. A girl trained at one of these schools came into a family I once knew. She brought with her a sewing-book, in which the process of making various articles was exhibited in miniature. The several parts of a shirt were first shown, each perfectly made, and fastened to a leaf of the book by itself, and then the successive steps of uniting the parts, till finally appeared a miniature model of the whole. The sewing was done with red thread, so that every stitch might show, and any imperfections be at once remedied. The same process was pursued with regard to other garments, and a good general idea of cutting and fitting them was thus given to an entire class of girls. "In the same manner the care and nursing of young children and the tending of the sick might be made the subject of lectures. Every woman ought to have some general principles to guide her with regard to what is to be done in case of the various accidents that may befall either children or grown people, and of their lesser illnesses, and ought to know how to prepare comforts and nourishment for the sick. Hawthorne's satirical remarks upon the contrast between the elegant Zenobia's conversation, and the smoky porridge she made for him when he was an invalid, might apply to the volunteer cookery of many charming women." "I think," said Bob, "that your Professor of Domestic Economy would find enough to occupy his pupils." "In fact," said I, "were domestic economy properly honored and properly taught, in the manner described, it would open a sphere of employment to so many women in the home life, that we should not be obliged to send our women out to California or the Pacific to put an end to an anxious and aimless life. "When domestic work is sufficiently honored to be taught as an art and science in our boarding-schools and high-schools, then possibly it may acquire also dignity in the eyes of our working classes, and young girls who have to earn their own living may no longer feel degraded in engaging in domestic service. The place of a domestic in a family may become as respectable in their eyes as a place in a factory, in a printing-office, in a dressmaking or millinery establishment, or behind the counter of a shop. "In America there is no class which will confess itself the lower class, and a thing recommended solely for the benefit of any such class finds no one to receive it. "If the intelligent and cultivated look down on household work with disdain; if they consider it as degrading, a thing to be shunned by every possible device,--they may depend upon it that the influence of such contempt of woman's noble duties will flow downward, producing a like contempt in every class in life. "Our sovereign princesses learn the doctrine of equality very quickly, and are not going to sacrifice themselves to what is not considered _de bon ton_ by the upper classes; and the girl with the laced hat and parasol, without underclothes, who does her best to 'shirk' her duties as housemaid, and is looking for marriage as an escape from work, is a fair copy of her mistress, who married for much the same reason, who hates housekeeping, and would rather board or do anything else than have the care of a family. The one is about as respectable as the other. "When housekeeping becomes an enthusiasm, and its study and practice a fashion, then we shall have in America that class of persons to rely on for help in household labors who are now going to factories, to printing-offices, to every kind of toil, forgetful of the best life and sphere of woman." III A FAMILY TALK ON RECONSTRUCTION Our Chimney-Corner, of which we have spoken somewhat, has, besides the wonted domestic circle, its habitués who have a frequent seat there. Among these, none is more welcome than Theophilus Thoro. Friend Theophilus was born on the shady side of Nature, and endowed by his patron saint with every grace and gift which can make a human creature worthy and available, except the gift of seeing the bright side of things. His bead-roll of Christian virtues includes all the graces of the spirit except hope; and so, if one wants to know exactly the flaw, the defect, the doubtful side, and to take into account all the untoward possibilities of any person, place, or thing, he had best apply to friend Theophilus. He can tell you just where and how the best-laid scheme is likely to fail, just the screw that will fall loose in the smoothest-working machinery, just the flaw in the most perfect character, just the defect in the best-written book, just the variety of thorn that must accompany each particular species of rose. Yet Theophilus is without guile or malice. His want of faith in human nature is not bitter and censorious, but melting and pitiful. "We are all poor trash, miserable dogs together," he seems to say, as he looks out on the world and its ways. There is not much to be expected of or for any of us; but let us love one another and be patient. Accordingly, Theophilus is one of the most incessant workers for human good, and perseveringly busy in every scheme of benevolent enterprise, in all which he labors with melancholy steadiness without hope. In religion he has the soul of a martyr,--nothing would suit him better than to be burned alive for his faith; but his belief in the success of Christianity is about on a par with that of the melancholy disciple of old, who, when Christ would go to Judæa, could only say, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." Theophilus is always ready to die for the truth and the right, for which he never sees anything but defeat and destruction ahead. During the late war, Theophilus has been a despairing patriot, dying daily, and giving all up for lost in every reverse from Bull Run to Fredericksburg. The surrender of Richmond and the capitulation of Lee shortened his visage somewhat; but the murder of the President soon brought it back to its old length. It is true that, while Lincoln lived, he was in a perpetual state of dissent from all his measures. He had broken his heart for years over the miseries of the slaves, but he shuddered at the Emancipation Proclamation; a whirlwind of anarchy was about to sweep over the country, in which the black and the white would dash against each other, and be shivered like potters' vessels. He was in despair at the accession of Johnson, believing the worst of the unfavorable reports that clouded his reputation. Nevertheless he was among the first of loyal citizens to rally to the support of the new administration, because, though he had no hope in that, he could see nothing better. You must not infer from all this that friend Theophilus is a social wet blanket, a goblin shadow at the domestic hearth. By no means. Nature has gifted him with that vein of humor and that impulse to friendly joviality which are frequent developments in sad-natured men, and often deceive superficial observers as to their real character. He who laughs well and makes you laugh is often called a man of cheerful disposition, yet in many cases nothing can be further from it than precisely this kind of person. Theophilus frequents our chimney-corner, perhaps because Mrs. Crowfield and myself are, so to speak, children of the light and the day. My wife has precisely the opposite talent to that of our friend. She can discover the good point, the sound spot, where others see only defect and corruption. I myself am somewhat sanguine, and prone rather to expect good than evil, and with a vast stock of faith in the excellent things that may turn up in the future. The millennium is one of the prime articles of my creed; and all the ups and downs of society I regard only as so many jolts on a very rough road that is taking the world on, through many upsets and disasters, to that final consummation. Theophilus holds the same belief theoretically; but it is apt to sink so far out of sight in the mire of present disaster as to be of very little comfort to him. "Yes," he said, "we are going to ruin, in my view, about as fast as we can go. Miss Jenny, I will trouble you for another small lump of sugar in my tea." "You have been saying that, about our going to ruin, every time you have taken tea here for four years past," said Jenny; "but I always noticed that your fears never spoiled your relish either for tea or muffins. People talk about being on the brink of a volcano, and the country going to destruction, and all that, just as they put pepper on their potatoes; it is an agreeable stimulant in conversation,--that's all." "For my part," said my wife, "I can speak in another vein. When had we ever in all our history so bright prospects, so much to be thankful for? Slavery is abolished; the last stain of disgrace is wiped from our national honor. We stand now before the world self-consistent with our principles. We have come out of one of the severest struggles that ever tried a nation, purer and stronger in morals and religion, as well as more prosperous in material things." "My dear madam, excuse me," said Theophilus; "but I cannot help being reminded of what an English reviewer once said,--that a lady's facts have as much poetry in them as Tom Moore's lyrics. Of course poetry is always agreeable, even though of no statistical value." "I see no poetry in my facts," said Mrs. Crowfield. "Is not slavery forever abolished, by the confession of its best friends,--even of those who declare its abolition a misfortune, and themselves ruined in consequence?" "I confess, my dear madam, that we have succeeded, as we human creatures commonly do, in supposing that we have destroyed an evil, when we have only changed its name. We have contrived to withdraw from the slave just that fiction of property relation which made it for the interest of some one to care for him a little, however imperfectly; and, having destroyed that, we turn him out defenseless to shift for himself in a community every member of which is embittered against him. The whole South resounds with the outcries of slaves suffering the vindictive wrath of former masters; laws are being passed hunting them out of this State and out of that; the animosity of race--at all times the most bitter and unreasonable of animosities--is being aroused all over the land. And the free States take the lead in injustice to them. Witness a late vote of Connecticut on the suffrage question. The efforts of government to protect the rights of these poor defenseless creatures are about as energetic as such efforts always have been and always will be while human nature remains what it is. For a while the obvious rights of the weaker party will be confessed, with some show of consideration, in public speeches; they will be paraded by philanthropic sentimentalists, to give point to their eloquence; they will be here and there sustained in governmental measures, when there is no strong temptation to the contrary, and nothing better to be done; but the moment that political combinations begin to be formed, all the rights and interests of this helpless people will be bandied about as so many make-weights in the political scale. Any troublesome lion will have a negro thrown to him to keep him quiet. All their hopes will be dashed to the ground by the imperious Southern white, no longer feeling for them even the interest of a master, and regarding them with a mixture of hatred and loathing as the cause of all his reverses. Then if, driven to despair, they seek to defend themselves by force, they will be crushed by the power of the government and ground to powder, as the weak have always been under the heel of the strong. "So much for our abolition of slavery. As to our material prosperity, it consists of an inflated paper currency, an immense debt, a giddy, foolhardy spirit of speculation and stock-gambling, and a perfect furor of extravagance, which is driving everybody to live beyond his means, and casting contempt on the republican virtues of simplicity and economy. "As to advancement in morals, there never was so much intemperance in our people before, and the papers are full of accounts of frauds, defalcations, forgeries, robberies, assassinations, and arsons. Against this tide of corruption the various organized denominations of religion do nothing effectual. They are an army shut up within their own intrenchments, holding their own with difficulty, and in no situation to turn back the furious assaults of the enemy." "In short," said Jenny, "according to your showing, the whole country is going to destruction. Now, if things really are so bad, if you really believe all you have been saying, you ought not to be sitting drinking your tea as you are now, or to have spent the afternoon playing croquet with us girls; you ought to gird yourself with sackcloth, and go up and down the land, raising the alarm, and saying, 'Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be overthrown.'" "Well," said Theophilus, while a covert smile played about his lips, "you know the saying, 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow,' etc. Things are not yet gone to destruction, only going,--and why not have a good time on deck before the ship goes to pieces? Your chimney-corner is a tranquil island in the ocean of trouble, and your muffins are absolutely perfect. I'll take another, if you'll please to pass them." "I've a great mind not to pass them," said Jenny. "Are you in earnest in what you are saying, or are you only saying it for sensation? How can people believe such things and be comfortable? I could not. If I believed all you have been saying I could not sleep nights,--I should be perfectly miserable; and _you_ cannot really believe all this, or you would be." "My dear child," said Mrs. Crowfield, "our friend's picture is the truth painted with all its shadows and none of its lights. All the dangers he speaks of are real and great, but he omits the counterbalancing good. Let _me_ speak now. There never has been a time in our history when so many honest and just men held power in our land as now,--never a government before in which the public councils recognized with more respect the just and the right. There never was an instance of a powerful government showing more tenderness in the protection of a weak and defenseless race than ours has shown in the care of the freedmen hitherto. There never was a case in which the people of a country were more willing to give money and time and disinterested labor to raise and educate those who have thus been thrown on their care. Considering that we have had a great, harassing, and expensive war on our hands, I think the amount done by government and individuals for the freedmen unequaled in the history of nations; and I do not know why it should be predicted from this past fact that, in the future, both government and people are about to throw them to the lions, as Mr. Theophilus supposes. Let us wait, at least, and see. So long as government maintains a freedmen's bureau, administered by men of such high moral character, we must think, at all events, that there are strong indications in the right direction. Just think of the immense advance of public opinion within four years, and of the grand successive steps of this advance,--Emancipation in the District of Columbia, the Repeal of the Fugitive Slave Law, the General Emancipation Act, the Amendment of the Constitution. All these do not look as if the black were about to be ground to powder beneath the heel of the white. If the negroes are oppressed in the South, they can emigrate; no laws hold them; active, industrious laborers will soon find openings in any part of the Union." "No," said Theophilus, "there will be black laws like those of Illinois and Tennessee; there will be turbulent uprisings of the Irish, excited by political demagogues, that will bar them out of Northern States. Besides, as a class, they _will_ be idle and worthless. It will not be their fault, but it will be the result of their slave education. All their past observation of their masters has taught them that liberty means licensed laziness, that work means degradation; and therefore they will loathe work, and cherish laziness as the sign of liberty. 'Am not I free? Have I not as good a right to do nothing as you?' will be the cry. "Already the lazy whites, who never lifted a hand in any useful employment, begin to raise the cry that 'niggers won't work;' and I suspect the cry may not be without reason. Industrious citizens can never be made in a community where the higher class think useful labor a disgrace. The whites will oppose the negro in every effort to rise; they will debar him of every civil and social right; they will set him the worst possible example, as they have been doing for hundreds of years; and then they will hound and hiss at him for being what they made him. This is the old track of the world,--the good, broad, reputable road on which all aristocracies and privileged classes have been always traveling; and it's not likely that we shall have much of a secession from it. The millennium isn't so near us as that, by a great deal." "It's all very well arguing from human selfishness and human sin in that way," said I; "but you can't take up a newspaper that doesn't contain abundant facts to the contrary. Here, now,"--and I turned to the "Tribune,"--"is one item that fell under my eye accidentally, as you were speaking:-- "'The Superintendent of Freedmen's Affairs in Louisiana, in making up his last Annual Report, says he has 1,952 blacks settled temporarily on 9,650 acres of land, who last year raised crops to the value of $175,000, and that he had but few worthless blacks under his care; and that, as a class, the blacks have fewer vagrants than can be found among any other class of persons.' "Such testimonies gem the newspapers like stars." "Newspapers of your way of thinking, very likely," said Theophilus; "but if it comes to statistics, I can bring counter-statements, numerous and dire, from scores of Southern papers, of vagrancy, laziness, improvidence, and wretchedness." "Probably both are true," said I, "according to the greater or less care which has been taken of the blacks in different regions. Left to themselves, they tend downward, pressed down by the whole weight of semi-barbarous white society; but when the free North protects and guides, the results are as you see." "And do you think the free North has salt enough in it to save this whole Southern mass from corruption? I wish I could think so; but all I can see in the free North at present is a raging, tearing, headlong chase after _money_. Now money is of significance only as it gives people the power of expressing their ideal of life. And what does this ideal prove to be among us? Is it not to ape all the splendors and vices of old aristocratic society? Is it not to be able to live in idleness, without useful employment, a life of glitter and flutter and show? What do our New York dames of fashion seek after? To avoid family care, to find servants at any price who will relieve them of home responsibilities, and take charge of their houses and children while they shine at ball and opera, and drive in the park. And the servants who learn of these mistresses,--what do they seek after? _They_ seek also to get rid of care, to live as nearly as possible without work, to dress and shine in their secondary sphere, as the mistresses do in the primary one. High wages with little work and plenty of company express Biddy's ideal of life, which is a little more respectable than that of her mistress, who wants high wages with no work. The house and the children are not Biddy's; and why should she care more for their well-being than the mistress and the mother? "Hence come wranglings and moanings. Biddy uses a chest of tea in three months, and the amount of the butcher's bill is fabulous; Jane gives the baby laudanum to quiet it, while she slips out to _her_ parties; and the upper classes are shocked at the demoralized state of the Irish, their utter want of faithfulness and moral principle! How dreadful that there are no people who enjoy the self-denials and the cares which they dislike, that there are no people who rejoice in carrying that burden of duties which they do not wish to touch with one of their fingers! The outcry about the badness of servants means just this: that everybody is tired of self-helpfulness,--the servants as thoroughly as the masters and mistresses. All want the cream of life, without even the trouble of skimming; and the great fight now is, who shall drink the skim-milk, which nobody wants. _Work_,--honorable toil,--manly, womanly endeavor,--is just what nobody likes; and this is as much a fact in the free North as in the slave South. "What are all the young girls looking for in marriage? Some man with money enough to save them from taking any care or having any trouble in domestic life, enabling them, like the lilies of the field, to rival Solomon in all his glory, while they toil not, neither do they spin; and when they find that even money cannot purchase freedom from care in family life, because their servants are exactly of the same mind with themselves, and hate to do their duties as cordially as they themselves do, then are they in anguish of spirit, and wish for slavery, or aristocracy, or anything that would give them power over the lower classes." "But surely, Mr. Theophilus," said Jenny, "there is no sin in disliking trouble, and wanting to live easily and have a good time in one's life,--it's so very natural." "No sin, my dear, I admit; but there is a certain amount of work and trouble that somebody must take to carry on the family and the world; and the mischief is, that all are agreed in wanting to get rid of it. Human nature is above all things lazy. I am lazy myself. Everybody is. The whole struggle of society is as to who shall eat the hard bread-and-cheese of labor, which must be eaten by somebody. Nobody wants it,--neither you in the parlor, nor Biddy in the kitchen. "'The mass ought to labor, and we lie on sofas,' is a sentence that would unite more subscribers than any confession of faith that ever was presented, whether religious or political; and its subscribers would be as numerous and sincere in the free States as in the slave States, or I am much mistaken in my judgment. The negroes are men and women, like any of the rest of us, and particularly apt in the imitation of the ways and ideas current in good society; and consequently to learn to play on the piano and to have nothing in particular to do will be the goal of aspiration among colored girls and woman, and to do housework will seem to them intolerable drudgery, simply because it is so among the fair models to whom they look up in humble admiration. You see, my dear, what it is to live in a democracy. It deprives us of the vantage-ground on which we cultivated people can stand and say to our neighbor,--'The cream is for me, and the skim-milk for you; the white bread for me, and the brown for you. I am born to amuse myself and have a good time, and you are born to do everything that is tiresome and disagreeable to me.' The 'My Lady Ludlows' of the Old World can stand on their platform and lecture the lower classes from the Church Catechism, to 'order themselves lowly and reverently to all their betters;' and they can base their exhortations on the old established law of society by which some are born to inherit the earth, and live a life of ease and pleasure, and others to toil without pleasure or amusement, for their support and aggrandizement. An aristocracy, as I take it, is a combination of human beings to divide life into two parts, one of which shall comprise all social and moral advantages, refinement, elegance, leisure, ease, pleasure, and amusement,--and the other, incessant toil, with the absence of every privilege and blessing of human existence. Life thus divided, we aristocrats keep the good for ourselves and our children, and distribute the evil as the lot of the general mass of mankind. The desire to monopolize and to dominate is the most rooted form of human selfishness; it is the hydra with many heads, and, cut off in one place, it puts out in another. "Nominally, the great aristocratic arrangement of American society has just been destroyed; but really, I take it, the essential _animus_ of the slave system still exists, and pervades the community, North as well as South. Everybody is wanting to get the work done by somebody else, and to take the money himself; the grinding between employers and employed is going on all the time, and the field of controversy has only been made wider by bringing in a whole new class of laborers. The Irish have now the opportunity to sustain their aristocracy over the negro. Shall they not have somebody to look down upon? "All through free society, employers and employed are at incessant feud; and the more free and enlightened the society, the more bitter the feud. The standing complaint of life in America is the badness of servants; and England, which always follows at a certain rate behind us in our social movements, is beginning to raise very loudly the same complaint. The condition of service has been thought worthy of public attention in some of the leading British prints; and Ruskin, in a summing-up article, speaks of it as a deep ulcer in society,--a thing hopeless of remedy." "My dear Mr. Theophilus," said my wife, "I cannot imagine whither you are rambling, or to what purpose you are getting up these horrible shadows. You talk of the world as if there were no God in it, overruling the selfishness of men, and educating it up to order and justice. I do not deny that there is a vast deal of truth in what you say. Nobody doubts that, in general, human nature _is_ selfish, callous, unfeeling, willing to engross all good to itself, and to trample on the rights of others. Nevertheless, thanks to God's teaching and fatherly care, the world has worked along to the point of a great nation founded on the principles of strict equality, forbidding all monopolies, aristocracies, privileged classes, by its very constitution; and now, by God's wonderful providence, this nation has been brought, and forced, as it were, to overturn and abolish the only aristocratic institution that interfered with its free development. Does not this look as if a Mightier Power than ours were working in and for us, supplementing our weakness and infirmity? and if we believe that man is always ready to drop everything and let it run back to evil, shall we not have faith that God will _not_ drop the noble work he has so evidently taken in hand in this nation?" "And I want to know," said Jenny, "why your illustrations of selfishness are all drawn from the female sex. Why do you speak of girls that marry for money, any more than men? of mistresses of families that want to be free from household duties and responsibilities, rather than of masters?" "My charming young lady," said Theophilus, "it is a fact that in America, except the slaveholders, women have hitherto been the only aristocracy. Women have been the privileged class,--the only one to which our rough democracy has always and everywhere given the precedence,--and consequently the vices of aristocrats are more developed in them as a class than among men. The leading principle of aristocracy, which is to take pay without work, to live on the toils and earnings of others, is one which obtains more generally among women than among men in this country. The men of our country, as a general thing, even in our uppermost classes, always propose to themselves some work or business by which they may acquire a fortune, or enlarge that already made for them by their fathers. The women of the same class propose to themselves nothing but to live at their ease on the money made for them by the labors of fathers and husbands. As a consequence, they become enervated and indolent,--averse to any bracing, wholesome effort, either mental or physical. The unavoidable responsibilities and cares of a family, instead of being viewed by them in the light of a noble life work, in which they do their part in the general labors of the world, seem to them so many injuries and wrongs; they seek to turn them upon servants, and find servants unwilling to take them; and so selfish are they, that I have heard more than one lady declare that she didn't care if it was unjust, she should like to have slaves, rather than be plagued with servants who had so much liberty. All the novels, poetry, and light literature of the world, which form the general staple of female reading, are based upon aristocratic institutions, and impregnated with aristocratic ideas; and women among us are constantly aspiring to foreign and aristocratic modes of life rather than to those of native republican simplicity. How many women are there, think you, that would not go in for aristocracy and aristocratic prerogatives, if they were only sure that they themselves should be of the privileged class? To be 'My Lady Duchess,' and to have a right by that simple title to the prostrate deference of all the lower orders! How many would have firmness to vote against such an establishment merely because it was bad for society? Tell the fair Mrs. Feathercap, 'In order that you may be a duchess, and have everything a paradise of elegance and luxury around you and your children, a hundred poor families must have no chance for anything better than black bread and muddy water all their lives, a hundred poor men must work all their lives on such wages that a fortnight's sickness will send their families to the almshouse, and that no amount of honesty and forethought can lay up any provision for old age.'" "Come now, sir," said Jenny, "don't tell me that there are any girls or women so mean and selfish as to want aristocracy or rank so purchased! You are too bad, Mr. Theophilus!" "Perhaps they might not, were it stated in just these terms; yet I think, if the question of the establishment of an order of aristocracy among us were put to vote, we should find more women than men who would go for it; and they would flout at the consequences to society with the lively wit and the musical laugh which make feminine selfishness so genteel and agreeable. "No! It is a fact that in America, the women, in the wealthy classes, are like the noblemen of aristocracies, and the men are the workers. And in all this outcry that has been raised about women's wages being inferior to those of men there is one thing overlooked,--and that is, that women's work is generally inferior to that of men, because in every rank they are the pets of society and are excused from the laborious drill and training by which men are fitted for their callings. Our fair friends come in generally by some royal road to knowledge, which saves them the dire necessity of real work,--a sort of feminine hop-skip-and-jump into science or mechanical skill,--nothing like the uncompromising hard labor to which the boy is put who would be a mechanic or farmer, a lawyer or physician. "I admit freely that we men are to blame for most of the faults of our fair nobility. There is plenty of heroism, abundance of energy, and love of noble endeavor lying dormant in these sheltered and petted daughters of the better classes; but we keep it down and smother it. Fathers and brothers think it discreditable to themselves not to give their daughters and sisters the means of living in idleness; and any adventurous fair one, who seeks to end the ennui of utter aimlessness by applying herself to some occupation whereby she may earn her own living, infallibly draws down on her the comments of her whole circle: 'Keeping school, is she? Isn't her father rich enough to support her? What could possess her?'" "I am glad, my dear Sir Oracle, that you are beginning to recollect yourself and temper your severities on our sex," said my wife. "As usual, there is much truth lying about loosely in the vicinity of your assertions; but they are as far from being in themselves the truth as would be their exact opposites. "The class of American women who travel, live abroad, and represent our country to the foreign eye, have acquired the reputation of being Sybarites in luxury and extravagance, and there is much in the modes of life that are creeping into our richer circles to justify this. "Miss Murray, ex-maid-of-honor to the Queen of England, among other impressions which she received from an extended tour through our country, states it as her conviction that young American girls of the better classes are less helpful in nursing the sick and in the general duties of family life than the daughters of the aristocracy of England; and I am inclined to believe it, because even the Queen has taken special pains to cultivate habits of energy and self-helpfulness in her children. One of the toys of the Princess Royal was said to be a cottage of her own, furnished with every accommodation for cooking and housekeeping, where she from time to time enacted the part of housekeeper, making bread and biscuit, boiling potatoes which she herself had gathered from her own garden-patch, and inviting her royal parents to meals of her own preparing; and report says, that the dignitaries of the German court have been horrified at the energetic determination of the young royal housekeeper to overlook her own linen closets and attend to her own affairs. But as an offset to what I have been saying, it must be admitted that America is a country where a young woman can be self-supporting without forfeiting her place in society. All our New England and Western towns show us female teachers who are as well received and as much caressed in society, and as often contract advantageous marriages, as any women whatever; and the productive labor of American women, in various arts, trades, and callings, would be found, I think, not inferior to that of any women in the world. "Furthermore, the history of the late war has shown them capable of every form of heroic endeavor. We have had hundreds of Florence Nightingales, and an amount of real hard work has been done by female hands not inferior to that performed by men in the camp and field, and enough to make sure that American womanhood is not yet so enervated as seriously to interfere with the prospects of free republican society." "I wonder," said Jenny, "what it is in our country that spoils the working classes that come into it. They say that the emigrants, as they land here, are often simple-hearted people, willing to work, accustomed to early hours and plain living, decorous and respectful in their manners. It would seem as if aristocratic drilling had done them good. In a few months they become brawling, impertinent, grasping, want high wages, and are very unwilling to work. I went to several intelligence-offices the other day to look for a girl for Marianne, and I thought, by the way the candidates catechized the ladies, and the airs they took upon them, that they considered themselves the future mistresses interrogating their subordinates. "'Does ye expect me to do the washin' with the cookin'?' "'Yes.' "'Thin I'll niver go to that place!' "'And does ye expect me to get the early breakfast for yer husband to be off in the train every mornin'?' "'Yes.' "'I niver does that,--that ought to be a second girl's work.' "'How many servants does ye keep, ma'am?' "'Two.' "'I niver lives with people that keeps but two servants.' "'How many has ye in yer family?' "'Seven.' "'That's too large a family. Has ye much company?' "'Yes, we have company occasionally.' "'Thin I can't come to ye; it'll be too harrd a place.' "In fact, the thing they were all in quest of seemed to be a very small family, with very high wages, and many perquisites and privileges. "This is the kind of work-people our manners and institutions make of people that come over here. I remember one day seeing a coachman touch his cap to his mistress when she spoke to him, as is the way in Europe, and hearing one or two others saying among themselves,-- "'That chap's a greenie; he'll get over that soon.'" "All these things show," said I, "that the staff of power has passed from the hands of gentility into those of labor. We may think the working classes somewhat unseemly in their assertion of self-importance; but, after all, are they, considering their inferior advantages of breeding, any more overbearing and impertinent than the upper classes have always been to them in all ages and countries? "When Biddy looks long, hedges in her work with many conditions, and is careful to get the most she can for the least labor, is she, after all, doing any more than you or I or all the rest of the world? I myself will not write articles for five dollars a page, when there are those who will give me fifteen. I would not do double duty as an editor on a salary of seven thousand, when I could get ten thousand for less work. "Biddy and her mistress are two human beings, with the same human wants. Both want to escape trouble, to make their life comfortable and easy, with the least outlay of expense. Biddy's capital is her muscles and sinews; and she wants to get as many greenbacks in exchange for them as her wit and shrewdness will enable her to do. You feel, when you bargain with her, that she is nothing to you, except so far as her strength and knowledge may save you care and trouble; and she feels that you are nothing to her, except so far as she can get your money for her work. The free-and-easy airs of those seeking employment show one thing,--that the country in general is prosperous, and that openings for profitable employment are so numerous that it is not thought necessary to try to conciliate favor. If the community were at starvation-point, and the loss of a situation brought fear of the almshouse, the laboring-class would be more subservient. As it is, there is a little spice of the bitterness of a past age of servitude in their present attitude,--a bristling, self-defensive impertinence, which will gradually smooth away as society learns to accommodate itself to the new order of things." "Well, but, papa," said Jenny, "don't you think all this a very severe test, if applied to us women particularly, more than to the men? Mr. Theophilus seems to think women are aristocrats, and go for enslaving the lower classes out of mere selfishness; but I say that we are a great deal more strongly tempted than men, because all these annoyances and trials of domestic life come upon us. It is very insidious, the aristocratic argument, as it appeals to us; there seems much to be said in its favor. It does appear to me that it is better to have servants and work-people tidy, industrious, respectful, and decorous, as they are in Europe, than domineering, impertinent, and negligent, as they are here,--and it seems that there is something in our institutions that produces these disagreeable traits; and I presume that the negroes will eventually be traveling the same road as the Irish, and from the same influences. "When people see all these things, and feel all the inconveniences of them, I don't wonder that they are tempted not to like democracy, and to feel as if aristocratic institutions made a more agreeable state of society. It is not such a blank, bald, downright piece of brutal selfishness as Mr. Theophilus there seems to suppose, for us to wish there were some quiet, submissive, laborious lower class, who would be content to work for kind treatment and moderate wages." "But, my little dear," said I, "the matter is not left to our choice. Wish it or not wish it, it's what we evidently can't have. The day for that thing is past. The power is passing out of the hands of the cultivated few into those of the strong, laborious many. _Numbers_ is the king of our era; and he will reign over us, whether we will hear or whether we will forbear. The sighers for an obedient lower class and the mourners for slavery may get ready their crape and have their pocket-handkerchiefs bordered with black; for they have much weeping to do, and for many years to come. The good old feudal times, when two thirds of the population thought themselves born only for the honor, glory, and profit of the other third, are gone, with all their beautiful devotions, all their trappings of song and story. In the land where such institutions were most deeply rooted and most firmly established, they are assailed every day by hard hands and stout hearts; and their position resembles that of some of the picturesque ruins of Italy, which are constantly being torn away to build prosaic modern shops and houses. "This great democratic movement is coming down into modern society with a march as irresistible as the glacier moves down from the mountains. Its front is in America,--and behind are England, France, Italy, Prussia, and the Mohammedan countries. In all, the rights of the laboring masses are a living force, bearing slowly and inevitably all before it. Our war has been a marshaling of its armies, commanded by a hard-handed, inspired man of the working-class. An intelligent American, recently resident in Egypt, says it was affecting to notice the interest with which the working classes there were looking upon our late struggle in America, and the earnestness of their wishes for the triumph of the Union. 'It is our cause, it is for us,' they said, as said the cotton spinners of England and the silk weavers of Lyons. The forces of this mighty movement are still directed by a man from the lower orders, the sworn foe of exclusive privileges and landed aristocracies. If Andy Johnson is consistent with himself, with the principles which raised him from a tailor's bench to the head of a mighty nation, he will see to it that the work that Lincoln began is so thoroughly done, that every man and every woman in America, of whatever race or complexion, shall have exactly equal rights before the law, and be free to rise or fall according to their individual intelligence, industry, and moral worth. So long as everything is not strictly in accordance with our principles of democracy, so long as there is in any part of the country an aristocratic upper class who despise labor, and a laboring lower class that is denied equal political rights, so long this grinding and discord between the two will never cease in America. It will make trouble not only in the South, but in the North,--trouble between all employers and employed,--trouble in every branch and department of labor,--trouble in every parlor and every kitchen. "What is it that has driven every American woman out of domestic service, when domestic service is full as well paid, is easier, healthier, and in many cases far more agreeable, than shop and factory work? It is, more than anything else, the influence of slavery in the South,--its insensible influence on the minds of mistresses, giving them false ideas of what ought to be the position and treatment of a female citizen in domestic service, and its very marked influence on the minds of freedom-loving Americans, causing them to choose _any_ position rather than one which is regarded as assimilating them to slaves. It is difficult to say what are the very worst results of a system so altogether bad as that of slavery; but one of the worst is certainly the utter contempt it brings on useful labor, and the consequent utter physical and moral degradation of a large body of the whites; and this contempt of useful labor has been constantly spreading like an infection from the Southern to the Northern States, particularly among women, who, as our friend here has truly said, are by our worship and exaltation of them made peculiarly liable to take the malaria of aristocratic society. Let anybody observe the conversation in good society for an hour or two, and hear the tone in which servant-girls, seamstresses, mechanics, and all who work for their living, are sometimes mentioned, and he will see that, while every one of the speakers professes to regard useful labor as respectable, she is yet deeply imbued with the leaven of aristocratic ideas. "In the South the contempt for labor bred of slavery has so permeated society, that we see great, coarse, vulgar _lazzaroni_ lying about in rags and vermin, and dependent on government rations, maintaining, as their only source of self-respect, that they never have done and never will do a stroke of useful work in all their lives. In the North there are, I believe, no _men_ who would make such a boast; but I think there are many women--beautiful, fascinating _lazzaroni_ of the parlor and boudoir--who make their boast of elegant helplessness and utter incompetence for any of woman's duties with equal naïveté. The Spartans made their slaves drunk, to teach their children the evils of intoxication; and it seems to be the policy of a large class in the South now to keep down and degrade the only working class they have, for the sake of teaching their children to despise work. "We of the North, who know the dignity of labor, who know the value of free and equal institutions, who have enjoyed advantages for seeing their operation, ought, in true brotherliness, to exercise the power given us by the present position of the people of the Southern States, and put things thoroughly right for them, well knowing, that, though they may not like it at the moment, they will like it in the end, and that it will bring them peace, plenty, and settled prosperity, such as they have long envied here in the North. It is no kindness to an invalid brother, half recovered from delirium, to leave him a knife to cut his throat with, should he be so disposed. We should rather appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober, and do real kindness, trusting to the future for our meed of gratitude. "Giving equal political rights to all the inhabitants of the Southern States will be their shortest way to quiet and to wealth. It will avert what is else almost certain,--a war of races; since all experience shows that the ballot introduces the very politest relations between the higher and lower classes. If the right be restricted, let it be by requirements of property and education, applying to all the population equally. "Meanwhile, we citizens and citizenesses of the North should remember that Reconstruction means something more than setting things right in the Southern States. We have saved our government and institutions, but we have paid a fearful price for their salvation; and we ought to prove now that they are worth the price. "The empty chair, never to be filled; the light gone out on its candlestick, never on earth to be rekindled; gallant souls that have exhaled to heaven in slow torture and starvation; the precious blood that has drenched a hundred battlefields,--all call to us with warning voices, and tell us not to let such sacrifices be in vain. They call on us by our clear understanding of the great principles of democratic equality, for which our martyred brethren suffered and died, to show to all the world that their death was no mean and useless waste, but a glorious investment for the future of mankind. "This war, these sufferings, these sacrifices, ought to make every American man and woman look on himself and herself as belonging to a royal priesthood, a peculiar people. The blood of our slain ought to be a gulf, wide and deep as the Atlantic, dividing us from the opinions and the practices of countries whose government and society are founded on other and antagonistic ideas. Democratic republicanism has never yet been perfectly worked out either in this or any other country. It is a splendid edifice, half built, deformed by rude scaffolding, noisy with the clink of trowels, blinding the eyes with the dust of lime, and endangering our heads with falling brick. We make our way over heaps of shavings and lumber to view the stately apartments,--we endanger our necks in climbing ladders standing in the place of future staircases; but let us not for all this cry out that the old rat-holed mansions of former ages, with their mould, and moss, and cockroaches, are better than this new palace. There is no lime-dust, no clink of trowels, no rough scaffolding there, to be sure, and life goes on very quietly; but there is the foul air of slow and sure decay. "Republican institutions in America are in a transition state; they have not yet separated themselves from foreign and antagonistic ideas and traditions, derived from old countries; and the labors necessary for the upbuilding of society are not yet so adjusted that there is mutual pleasure and comfort in the relations of employer and employed. We still incline to class distinctions and aristocracies. We incline to the scheme of dividing the world's work into two orders: first, physical labor, which is held to be rude and vulgar, and the province of a lower class; and second, brain labor, held to be refined and aristocratic, and the province of a higher class. Meanwhile, the Creator, who is the greatest of levelers, has given to every human being both a physical system, needing to be kept in order by physical labor, and an intellectual or brain power, needing to be kept in order by brain labor. Work, use, employment, is the condition of health in both; and he who works either to the neglect of the other lives but a half-life, and is an imperfect human being. "The aristocracies of the Old World claim that their only labor should be that of the brain; and they keep their physical system in order by violent exercise, which is made genteel from the fact only that it is not useful or productive. It would be losing caste to refresh the muscles by handling the plough or the axe; and so foxes and hares must be kept to be hunted, and whole counties turned into preserves, in order that the nobility and gentry may have physical exercise in a way befitting their station,--that is to say, in a way that produces nothing, and does good only to themselves. "The model republican uses his brain for the highest purposes of brain work, and his muscles in productive physical labor; and useful labor he respects above that which is merely agreeable. When this equal respect for physical and mental labor shall have taken possession of every American citizen, there will be no so-called laboring class; there will no more be a class all muscle without brain power to guide it, and a class all brain without muscular power to execute. The labors of society will be lighter, because each individual will take his part in them; they will be performed better, because no one will be overburdened. In those days, Miss Jenny, it will be an easier matter to keep house, because, housework being no longer regarded as degrading drudgery, you will find a superior class of women ready to engage in it. "Every young girl and woman, who in her sphere and by her example shows that she is not ashamed of domestic labor, and that she considers the necessary work and duties of family life as dignified and important, is helping to bring on this good day. Louis Philippe once jestingly remarked, 'I have this qualification for being a king in these days, that I have blacked my own boots, and could black them again.' "Every American ought to cultivate, as his pride and birthright, the habit of self-helpfulness. Our command of the labors of good employees in any department is liable to such interruptions, that he who has blacked his own boots, and can do it again, is, on the whole, likely to secure the most comfort in life. "As to that which Mr. Ruskin pronounces to be a deep, irremediable ulcer in society, namely, domestic service, we hold that the last workings of pure democracy will cleanse and heal it. When right ideas are sufficiently spread; when everybody is self-helpful and capable of being self-supporting; when there is a fair start for every human being in the race of life, and all its prizes are, without respect of persons, to be obtained by the best runner; when every kind of useful labor is thoroughly respected,--then there will be a clear, just, wholesome basis of intercourse on which employers and employed can move without wrangling or discord. "Renouncing all claims to superiority on the one hand, and all thought of servility on the other, service can be rendered by fair contracts and agreements, with that mutual respect and benevolence which every human being owes to every other. But for this transition period, which is wearing out the life of so many women, and making so many households uncomfortable, I have some alleviating suggestions, which I shall give in my next chapter." IV IS WOMAN A WORKER "Papa, do you see what the 'Evening Post' says of your New Year's article on Reconstruction?" said Jenny, as we were all sitting in the library after tea. "I have not seen it." "Well, then, the charming writer, whoever he is, takes up for us girls and women, and maintains that no work of any sort ought to be expected of us; that our only mission in life is to be beautiful, and to refresh and elevate the spirits of men by being so. If I get a husband, my mission is to be always becomingly dressed, to display most captivating toilettes, and to be always in good spirits,--as, under the circumstances, I always should be,--and thus 'renew his spirits' when he comes in weary with the toils of life. Household cares are to be far from me: they destroy my cheerfulness and injure my beauty. "He says that the New England standard of excellence as applied to woman has been a mistaken one; and, in consequence, though the girls are beautiful, the matrons are faded, overworked, and uninteresting; and that such a state of society tends to immorality, because, when wives are no longer charming, men are open to the temptation to desert their firesides, and get into mischief generally. He seems particularly to complain of your calling ladies who do nothing the 'fascinating _lazzaroni_ of the parlor and boudoir.'" "There was too much truth back of that arrow not to wound," said Theophilus Thoro, who was ensconced, as usual, in his dark corner, whence he supervises our discussions. "Come, Mr. Thoro, we won't have any of your bitter moralities," said Jenny; "they are only to be taken as the invariable bay-leaf which Professor Blot introduces into all his recipes for soups and stews,--a little elegant bitterness, to be kept tastefully in the background. You see now, papa, I should like the vocation of being beautiful. It would just suit me to wear point-lace and jewelry, and to have life revolve round me, as some beautiful star, and feel that I had nothing to do but shine and refresh the spirits of all gazers, and that in this way I was truly useful, and fulfilling the great end of my being; but alas for this doctrine! all women have not beauty. The most of us can only hope not to be called ill-looking, and, when we get ourselves up with care, to look fresh and trim and agreeable; which fact interferes with the theory." "Well, for my part," said young Rudolph, "I go for the theory of the beautiful. If ever I marry, it is to find an asylum for ideality. I don't want to make a culinary marriage or a business partnership. I want a being whom I can keep in a sphere of poetry and beauty, out of the dust and grime of every-lay life." "Then," said Mr. Theophilus, "you must either be a rich man in your own right, or your fair ideal must have a handsome fortune of her own." "I never will marry a rich wife," quoth Rudolph. "My wife must be supported by me, not I by her." Rudolph is another of the habitués of our chimney-corner, representing the order of young knighthood in America, and his dreams and fancies, if impracticable, are always of a kind to make every one think him a good fellow. He who has no romantic dreams at twenty-one will be a horribly dry peascod at fifty; therefore it is that I gaze reverently at all Rudolph's chateaus in Spain, which want nothing to complete them except solid earth to stand on. "And pray," said Theophilus, "how long will it take a young lawyer or physician, starting with no heritage but his own brain, to create a sphere of poetry and beauty in which to keep his goddess? How much a year will be necessary, as the English say, to _do_ this garden of Eden, whereinto shall enter only the poetry of life?" "I don't know. I haven't seen it near enough to consider. It is because I know the difficulty of its attainment that I have no present thoughts of marriage. Marriage is to me in the bluest of all blue distances,--far off, mysterious, and dreamy as the Mountains of the Moon or sources of the Nile. It shall come only when I have secured a fortune that shall place my wife above all necessity of work or care." "I desire to hear from you," said Theophilus, "when you have found the sum that will keep a woman from care. I know of women now inhabiting palaces, waited on at every turn by servants, with carriages, horses, jewels, laces, Cashmeres, enough for princesses, who are eaten up by care. One lies awake all night on account of a wrinkle in the waist of her dress; another is dying because no silk of a certain inexpressible shade is to be found in New York; a third has had a dress sent home, which has proved such a failure that life seems no longer worth having. If it were not for the consolations of religion, one doesn't know what would become of her. The fact is, that care and labor are as much correlated to human existence as shadow is to light; there is no such thing as excluding them from any mortal lot. You may make a canary-bird or a gold-fish live in absolute contentment without a care or labor, but a human being you cannot. Human beings are restless and active in their very nature, and will do something, and that something will prove a care, a labor, and a fatigue, arrange it how you will. As long as there is anything to be desired and not yet attained, so long its attainment will be attempted; so long as that attainment is doubtful or difficult, so long will there be care and anxiety. When boundless wealth releases woman from every family care, she immediately makes herself a new set of cares in another direction, and has just as many anxieties as the most toilful housekeeper, only they are of a different kind. Talk of labor, and look at the upper classes in London or in New York in the fashionable season. Do any women work harder? To rush from crowd to crowd all night, night after night, seeing what they are tired of, making the agreeable over an abyss of inward yawning, crowded, jostled, breathing hot air, and crushed in halls and stairways, without a moment of leisure for months and months, till brain and nerve and sense reel, and the country is longed for as a period of resuscitation and relief! Such is the release from labor and fatigue brought by wealth. The only thing that makes all this labor at all endurable is, that it is utterly and entirely useless, and does no good to any one in creation; this alone makes it genteel, and distinguishes it from the vulgar toils of a housekeeper. These delicate creatures, who can go to three or four parties a night for three months, would be utterly desolate if they had to watch one night in a sick-room; and though they can exhibit any amount of physical endurance and vigor in crowding into assembly rooms, and breathe tainted air in an opera-house with the most martyr-like constancy, they could not sit one half-hour in the close room where the sister of charity spends hours in consoling the sick or aged poor." "Mr. Theophilus is quite at home now," said Jenny; "only start him on the track of fashionable life, and he takes the course like a hound. But hear, now, our champion of the 'Evening Post':-- "'The instinct of women to seek a life of repose, their eagerness to attain the life of elegance, does not mean contempt for labor, but it is a confession of unfitness for labor. Women were not intended to work,--not because work is ignoble, but because it is as disastrous to the beauty of a woman as is friction to the bloom and softness of a flower. Woman is to be kept in the garden of life; she is to rest, to receive, to praise; she is to be kept from the workshop world, where innocence is snatched with rude hands, and softness is blistered into unsightliness or hardened into adamant. No social truth is more in need of exposition and illustration than this one; and, above all, the people of New England need to know it, and, better, they need to believe it. "'It is therefore with regret that we discover Christopher Crowfield applying so harshly, and, as we think so indiscriminatingly, the theory of work to women, and teaching a society made up of women sacrificed in the workshops of the State, or to the dustpans and kitchens of the house, that women must work, ought to work, and are dishonored if they do not work; and that a woman committed to the drudgery of a household is more creditably employed than when she is charming, fascinating, irresistible, in the parlor or boudoir. The consequence of this fatal mistake is manifest throughout New England,--in New England where the girls are all beautiful and the wives and mothers faded, disfigured, and without charm or attractiveness. The moment a girl marries, in New England, she is apt to become a drudge or a lay figure on which to exhibit the latest fashions. She never has beautiful hands, and she would not have a beautiful face if a utilitarian society could "apply" her face to anything but the pleasure of the eye. Her hands lose their shape and softness after childhood, and domestic drudgery destroys her beauty of form and softness and bloom of complexion after marriage. To correct, or rather to break up, this despotism of household cares, or of work, over woman, American society must be taught that women will inevitably fade and deteriorate, unless it insures repose and comfort to them. It must be taught that reverence for beauty is the normal condition, while the theory of work, applied to women, is disastrous alike to beauty and morals. Work, when it is destructive to men or women, is forced and unjust. "'All the great masculine or creative epochs have been distinguished by spontaneous work on the part of men, and universal reverence and care for beauty. The praise of work, and sacrifice of women to this great heartless devil of work, belong only to, and are the social doctrine of, a mechanical age and a utilitarian epoch. And if the New England idea of social life continues to bear so cruelly on woman, we shall have a reaction somewhat unexpected and shocking.'" "Well now, say what you will," said Rudolph, "you have expressed my idea of the conditions of the sex. Woman was not made to work; she was made to be taken care of by man. All that is severe and trying, whether in study or in practical life, is and ought to be in its very nature essentially the work of the male sex. The value of woman is precisely the value of those priceless works of art for which we build museums,--which we shelter and guard as the world's choicest heritage; and a lovely, cultivated, refined woman, thus sheltered, and guarded, and developed, has a worth that cannot be estimated by any gross, material standard. So I subscribe to the sentiments of Miss Jenny's friend without scruple." "The great trouble in settling all these society questions," said I, "lies in the gold-washing--the cradling I think the miners call it. If all the quartz were in one stratum and all the gold in another, it would save us a vast deal of trouble. In the ideas of Jenny's friend of the 'Evening Post' there is a line of truth and a line of falsehood so interwoven and threaded together that it is impossible wholly to assent or dissent. So with your ideas, Rudolph, there is a degree of truth in them, but there is also a fallacy. "It is a truth, that woman as a sex ought not to do the hard work of the world, either social, intellectual, or moral. These are evidences in her physiology that this was not intended for her, and our friend of the 'Evening Post' is right in saying that any country will advance more rapidly in civilization and refinement where woman is thus sheltered and protected. And I think, furthermore, that there is no country in the world where women _are_ so much considered and cared for and sheltered, in every walk of life, as in America. In England and France,--all over the continent of Europe, in fact,--the other sex are deferential to women only from some presumption of their social standing, or from the fact of acquaintanceship; but among strangers, and under circumstances where no particular rank or position can be inferred, a woman traveling in England or France is jostled and pushed to the wall, and left to take her own chance, precisely as if she were not a woman. Deference to delicacy and weakness, the instinct of protection, does not appear to characterize the masculine population of any other quarter of the world so much as that of America. In France, _les Messieurs_ will form a circle round the fire in the receiving-room of a railroad station, and sit, tranquilly smoking their cigars, while ladies who do not happen to be of their acquaintance are standing shivering at the other side of the room. In England, if a lady is incautiously booked for an outside place on a coach, in hope of seeing the scenery, and the day turns out hopelessly rainy, no gentleman in the coach below ever thinks of offering to change seats with her, though it pour torrents. In America, the roughest backwoods steamboat or canal-boat captain always, as a matter of course, considers himself charged with the protection of the ladies. '_Place aux dames_' is written in the heart of many a shaggy fellow who could not utter a French word any more than could a buffalo. It is just as I have before said,--women are the recognized aristocracy, the only aristocracy, of America; and, so far from regarding this fact as objectionable, it is an unceasing source of pride in my country. "That kind of knightly feeling towards woman which reverences her delicacy, her frailty, which protects and cares for her, is, I think, the crown of manhood; and without it a man is only a rough animal. But our fair aristocrats and their knightly defenders need to be cautioned lest they lose their position, as many privileged orders have before done, by an arrogant and selfish use of power. "I have said that the vices of aristocracy are more developed among women in America than among men, and that, while there are no men in the Northern States who are not ashamed of living a merely idle life of pleasure, there are many women who make a boast of helplessness and ignorance in woman's family duties which any man would be ashamed to make with regard to man's duties, as if such helplessness and ignorance were a grace and a charm. "There are women who contentedly live on, year after year, a life of idleness, while the husband and father is straining every nerve, growing prematurely old and gray, abridged of almost every form of recreation or pleasure,--all that he may keep them in a state of careless ease and festivity. It may be very fine, very generous, very knightly, in the man who thus toils at the oar that his princesses may enjoy their painted voyages; but what is it for the women? "A woman is a moral being--an immortal soul--before she is a woman; and as such she is charged by her Maker with some share of the great burden of work which lies on the world. "Self-denial, the bearing of the cross, are stated by Christ as indispensable conditions to the entrance into his kingdom, and no exception is made for man or woman. Some task, some burden, some cross, each one must carry; and there must be something done in every true and worthy life, not as amusement, but as duty,--not as play, but as earnest work,--and no human being can attain to the Christian standard without this. "When Jesus Christ took a towel and girded himself, poured water into a basin, and washed his disciples' feet, he performed a significant and sacramental act, which no man or woman should ever forget. If wealth and rank and power absolve from the services of life, then certainly were Jesus Christ absolved, as he says: 'Ye call me Master, and Lord. If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you.' "Let a man who seeks to make a terrestrial paradise for the woman of his heart,--to absolve her from all care, from all labor, to teach her to accept and to receive the labor of others without any attempt to offer labor in return,--consider whether he is not thus going directly against the fundamental idea of Christianity; taking the direct way to make his idol selfish and exacting, to rob her of the highest and noblest beauty of womanhood. "In that chapter of the Bible where the relation between man and woman is stated, it is thus said, with quaint simplicity: 'It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an _help meet_ for him.' Woman the _helper_ of man, not his toy,--not a picture, not a statue, not a work of art, but a HELPER, a doer,--such is the view of the Bible and the Christian religion. "It is not necessary that women should work physically or morally to an extent which impairs beauty. In France, where woman is harnessed with an ass to the plough which her husband drives,--where she digs, and wields the pick-axe,--she becomes prematurely hideous; but in America, where woman reigns as queen in every household, she may surely be a good and thoughtful housekeeper, she may have physical strength exercised in lighter domestic toils, not only without injuring her beauty, but with manifest advantage to it. Almost every growing young girl would be the better in health, and therefore handsomer, for two hours of active housework daily; and the habit of usefulness thereby gained would be an equal advantage to her moral development. The labors of modern, well-arranged houses are not in any sense severe; they are as gentle as any kind of exercise that can be devised, and they bring into play muscles that ought to be exercised to be healthily developed. "The great danger to the beauty of American women does not lie, as the writer of the 'Post' contends, in an overworking of the physical system which shall stunt and deform; on the contrary, American women of the comfortable classes are in danger of a loss of physical beauty from the entire deterioration of the muscular system for want of exercise. Take the life of any American girl in one of our large towns, and see what it is. We have an educational system of public schools which for intellectual culture is a just matter of pride to any country. From the time that the girl is seven years old, her first thought, when she rises in the morning, is to eat her breakfast and be off to her school. There really is no more time than enough to allow her to make that complete toilet which every well-bred female ought to make, and to take her morning meal before her school begins. She returns at noon with just time to eat her dinner, and the afternoon session begins. She comes home at night with books, slate, and lessons enough to occupy her evening. What time is there for teaching her any household work, for teaching her to cut or fit or sew, or to inspire her with any taste for domestic duties? Her arms have no exercise; her chest and lungs, and all the complex system of muscles which are to be perfected by quick and active movement, are compressed while she bends over book and slate and drawing-board; while the ever active brain is kept all the while going at the top of its speed. She grows up spare, thin, and delicate; and while the Irish girl, who sweeps the parlors, rubs the silver, and irons the muslins, is developing a finely rounded arm and bust, the American girl has a pair of bones at her sides, and a bust composed of cotton padding, the work of a skillful dressmaker. Nature, who is no respecter of persons, gives to Colleen Bawn, who uses her arms and chest, a beauty which perishes in the gentle, languid Edith, who does nothing but study and read." "But is it not a fact," said Rudolph, "as stated by our friend of the 'Post,' that American matrons are perishing, and their beauty and grace all withered, from overwork?" "It is," said my wife; "but why? It is because they are brought up without vigor or muscular strength, without the least practical experience of household labor, or those means of saving it which come by daily practice; and then, after marriage, when physically weakened by maternity, embarrassed by the care of young children, they are often suddenly deserted by every efficient servant, and the whole machinery of a complicated household left in their weak, inexperienced hands. In the country, you see a household perhaps made void some fine morning by Biddy's sudden departure, and nobody to make the bread, or cook the steak, or sweep the parlors, or do one of the complicated offices of a family, and no bakery, cook-shop, or laundry to turn to for alleviation. A lovely, refined home becomes in a few hours a howling desolation; and then ensues a long season of breakage, waste, distraction, as one wild Irish immigrant after another introduces the style of Irish cottage life into an elegant dwelling. "Now suppose I grant to the 'Evening Post' that woman ought to rest, to be kept in the garden of life, and all that, how is this to be done in a country where a state of things like this is the commonest of occurrences? And is it any kindness or reverence to woman, to educate her for such an inevitable destiny by a life of complete physical delicacy and incapacity? Many a woman who has been brought into these cruel circumstances would willingly exchange all her knowledge of German and Italian, and all her graceful accomplishments, for a good physical development, and some respectable _savoir faire_ in ordinary life. "Moreover, American matrons are overworked because some unaccountable glamour leads them to continue to bring up their girls in the same inefficient physical habits which resulted in so much misery to themselves. Housework as they are obliged to do it, untrained, untaught, exhausted, and in company with rude, dirty, unkempt foreigners, seems to them a degradation which they will spare to their daughters. The daughter goes on with her schools and accomplishments, and leads in the family the life of an elegant little visitor during all those years when a young girl might be gradually developing and strengthening her muscles in healthy household work. It never occurs to her that she can or ought to fill any of the domestic gaps into which her mother always steps; and she comforts herself with the thought, 'I don't know how; I can't; I haven't the strength. I can't sweep; it blisters my hands. If I should stand at the ironing-table an hour, I should be ill for a week. As to cooking, I don't know anything about it.' And so, when the cook, or the chambermaid, or nurse, or all together, vacate the premises, it is the mamma who is successively cook, and chambermaid, and nurse; and this is the reason why matrons fade and are overworked. "Now, Mr. Rudolph, do you think a woman any less beautiful or interesting because she is a fully developed physical being,--because her muscles have been rounded and matured into strength, so that she can meet the inevitable emergencies of life without feeling them to be distressing hardships? If there be a competent, well-trained servant to sweep and dust the parlor, and keep all the machinery of the house in motion, she may very properly select her work out of the family, in some form of benevolent helpfulness; but when the inevitable evil hour comes, which is likely to come first or last in every American household, is a woman any less an elegant woman because her love of neatness, order, and beauty leads her to make vigorous personal exertions to keep her own home undefiled? For my part, I think a disorderly, ill-kept home, a sordid, uninviting table, has driven more husbands from domestic life than the unattractiveness of any overworked woman. So long as a woman makes her home harmonious and orderly, so long as the hour of assembling around the family table is something to be looked forward to as a comfort and a refreshment, a man cannot see that the good house fairy, who by some magic keeps everything so delightfully, has either a wrinkle or a gray hair." "Besides," said I, "I must tell you, Rudolph, what you fellows of twenty-one are slow to believe; and that is, that the kind of ideal paradise you propose in marriage is, in the very nature of things, an impossibility,--that the familiarities of every-day life between two people who keep house together must and will destroy it. Suppose you are married to Cytherea herself, and the next week attacked with a rheumatic fever. If the tie between you is that of true and honest love, Cytherea will put on a gingham wrapper, and with her own sculptured hands wring out the flannels which shall relieve your pains; and she will be no true woman if she do not prefer to do this to employing any nurse that could be hired. True love ennobles and dignifies the material labors of life; and homely services rendered for love's sake have in them a poetry that is immortal. "No true-hearted woman can find herself, in real, actual life, unskilled and unfit to minister to the wants and sorrows of those dearest to her, without a secret sense of degradation. The feeling of uselessness is an extremely unpleasant one. Tom Hood, in a very humorous paper, describes a most accomplished schoolmistress, a teacher of all the arts and crafts which are supposed to make up fine gentlewomen, who is stranded in a rude German inn, with her father writhing in the anguish of a severe attack of gastric inflammation. The helpless lady gazes on her suffering parent, longing to help him, and thinking over all her various little store of accomplishments, not one of which bears the remotest relation to the case. She could knit him a bead purse, or make him a guard-chain, or work him a footstool, or festoon him with cut tissue-paper, or sketch his likeness, or crust him over with alum crystals, or stick him over with little rosettes of red and white wafers; but none of these being applicable to his present case, she sits gazing in resigned imbecility, till finally she desperately resolves to improvise him some gruel, and, after a laborious turn in the kitchen,--after burning her dress and blacking her fingers,--succeeds only in bringing him a bowl of paste! "Not unlike this might be the feeling of many an elegant and accomplished woman, whose education has taught and practiced her in everything that woman ought to know, except those identical ones which fit her for the care of a home, for the comfort of a sick-room; and so I say again that, whatever a woman may be in the way of beauty and elegance, she must have the strength and skill of a practical worker, or she is nothing. She is not simply to be the beautiful,--she is to make the beautiful, and preserve it; and she who makes and she who keeps the beautiful must be able to work, and know how to work. Whatever offices of life are performed by women of culture and refinement are thenceforth elevated; they cease to be mere servile toils, and become expressions of the ideas of superior beings. If a true lady makes even a plate of toast, in arranging a _petit souper_ for her invalid friend, she does it as a lady should. She does not cut blundering and uneven slices; she does not burn the edges; she does not deluge it with bad butter, and serve it cold; but she arranges and serves all with an artistic care, with a nicety and delicacy, which make it worth one's while to have a lady friend in sickness. "And I am glad to hear that Monsieur Blot is teaching classes of New York ladies that cooking is not a vulgar kitchen toil, to be left to blundering servants, but an elegant feminine accomplishment, better worth a woman's learning than crochet or embroidery; and that a well-kept culinary apartment may be so inviting and orderly that no lady need feel her ladyhood compromised by participating in its pleasant toils. I am glad to know that his cooking-academy is thronged with more scholars than he can accommodate, and from ladies in the best classes of society. "Moreover, I am glad to see that in New Bedford, recently, a public course of instruction in the art of bread-making has been commenced by a lady, and that classes of the most respectable young and married ladies in the place are attending them. These are steps in the right direction, and show that our fair countrywomen, with the grand good sense which is their leading characteristic, are resolved to supply whatever in our national life is wanting. "I do not fear that women of such sense and energy will listen to the sophistries which would persuade them that elegant imbecility and inefficiency are charms of cultivated womanhood or ingredients in the poetry of life. She alone can keep the poetry and beauty of married life who has this poetry in her soul; who with energy and discretion can throw back and out of sight the sordid and disagreeable details which beset all human living, and can keep in the foreground that which is agreeable; who has enough knowledge of practical household matters to make unskilled and rude hands minister to her cultivated and refined tastes, and constitute her skilled brain the guide of unskilled hands. From such a home, with such a mistress, no sirens will seduce a man, even though the hair grow gray, and the merely physical charms of early days gradually pass away. The enchantment that was about her person alone in the days of courtship seems in the course of years to have interfused and penetrated the home which she has created, and which in every detail is only an expression of her personality. Her thoughts, her plans, her provident care, are everywhere; and the home attracts and holds by a thousand ties the heart which before marriage was held by the woman alone." V THE TRANSITION "The fact is, my dear," said my wife, "that you have thrown a stone into a congregation of blackbirds, in writing as you have of our family wars and wants. The response comes from all parts of the country, and the task of looking over and answering your letters becomes increasingly formidable. Everybody has something to say,--something to propose." "Give me a résumé," said I. "Well," said my wife, "here are three pages from an elderly gentleman, to the effect that women are not what they used to be,--that daughters are a great care and no help, that girls have no health and no energy in practical life, that the expense of maintaining a household is so great that young men are afraid to marry, and that it costs more now per annum to dress one young woman than it used to cost to carry a whole family of sons through college. In short, the poor old gentleman is in a desperate state of mind, and is firmly of opinion that society is going to ruin by an express train." "Poor old fellow!" said I, "the only comfort I can offer him is what I take myself,--that this sad world will last out our time at least. Now for the next." "The next is more concise and spicy," said my wife. "I will read it. "CHRISTOPHER CROWFIELD, ESQ.: "_Sir_,--If you want to know how American women are to be brought back to family work, I can tell you a short method. Pay them as good wages for it as they can make in any other way. I get from seven to nine dollars a week in a shop where I work; if I could make the same in any good family, I should have no objection to doing it. "Your obedient servant, "LETITIA." "My correspondent Letitia does not tell me," said I, "how much of this seven or nine dollars she pays out for board and washing, fire and lights. If she worked in a good family at two or three dollars a week, it is easily demonstrable that, at the present cost of these items, she would make as much clear profit as she now does at nine dollars for her shop-work. "And there are two other things, moreover, which she does not consider: First, that, besides board, washing, fuel, and lights, which she would have in a family, she would have also less unintermitted toil. Shop-work exacts its ten hours per diem; and it makes no allowance for sickness or accident. "A good domestic in a good family finds many hours when she can feel free to attend to her own affairs. Her work consists of certain definite matters, which being done her time is her own; and if she have skill and address in the management of her duties, she may secure many leisure hours. As houses are now built, and with the many labor-saving conveniences that are being introduced, the physical labor of housework is no more than a healthy woman really needs to keep her in health. In case, however, of those slight illnesses to which all are more or less liable, and which, if neglected, often lead to graver ones, the advantage is still on the side of domestic service. In the shop and factory, every hour of unemployed time is deducted; an illness of a day or two is an appreciable loss of just so much money, while the expense of board is still going on. But in the family a good servant is always considered. When ill, she is carefully nursed as one of the family, has the family physician, and is subject to no deduction from her wages for loss of time. I have known more than one instance in which a valued domestic has been sent, at her employer's expense, to the seaside or some other pleasant locality, for change of air, when her health has been run down. "In the second place, family work is more remunerative, even at a lower rate of wages, than shop or factory work, because it is better for the health. All sorts of sedentary employment, pursued by numbers of persons together in one apartment, are more or less debilitating and unhealthy, through foul air and confinement. "A woman's health is her capital. In certain ways of work she obtains more income, but she spends on her capital to do it. In another way she may get less income, and yet increase her capital. A woman cannot work at dressmaking, tailoring, or any other sedentary employment, ten hours a day, year in and out, without enfeebling her constitution, impairing her eyesight, and bringing on a complication of complaints, but she can sweep, wash, cook, and do the varied duties of a well-ordered house with modern arrangements, and grow healthier every year. The times, in New England, when all women did housework a part of every day, were the times when all women were healthy. At present, the heritage of vigorous muscles, firm nerves, strong backs, and cheerful physical life has gone from American women, and is taken up by Irish women. A thrifty young man I have lately heard of married a rosy young Irish girl, quite to the horror of his mother and sisters, but defended himself by the following very conclusive logic: 'If I marry an American girl, I must have an Irish girl to take care of her; and I cannot afford to support both.' "Besides all this, there is a third consideration, which I humbly commend to my friend Letitia. The turn of her note speaks her a girl of good common sense, with a faculty of hitting the nail square on the head; and such a girl must see that nothing is more likely to fall out than that she will some day be married. Evidently, our fair friend is born to rule; and at this hour, doubtless, her foreordained throne and humble servant are somewhere awaiting her. "Now domestic service is all the while fitting a girl physically, mentally, and morally for her ultimate vocation and sphere,--to be a happy wife and to make a happy home. But factory work, shop work, and all employments of that sort, are in their nature essentially undomestic,--entailing the constant necessity of a boarding-house life, and of habits as different as possible from the quiet routine of home. The girl who is ten hours on the strain of continued, unintermitted toil feels no inclination, when evening comes, to sit down and darn her stockings, or make over her dresses, or study any of those multifarious economies which turn a wardrobe to the best account. Her nervous system is flagging; she craves company and excitement; and her dull, narrow room is deserted for some place of amusement or gay street promenade. And who can blame her? Let any sensible woman, who has had experience of shop and factory life, recall to her mind the ways and manners in which young girls grow up who leave a father's roof for a crowded boarding-house, without any supervision of matron or mother, and ask whether this is the best school for training young American wives and mothers. "Doubtless there are discreet and thoughtful women who, amid all these difficulties, do keep up thrifty, womanly habits, but they do it by an effort greater than the majority of girls are willing to make, and greater than they ought to make. To sew or read or study after ten hours of factory or shop work is a further drain on the nervous powers which no woman can long endure without exhaustion. "When the time arrives that such a girl comes to a house of her own, she comes to it as unskilled in all household lore, with muscles as incapable of domestic labor and nerves as sensitive, as if she had been leading the most luxurious, do-nothing, fashionable life. How different would be her preparation, had the forming years of her life been spent in the labors of a family! I know at this moment a lady at the head of a rich country establishment, filling her station in society with dignity and honor, who gained her domestic education in a kitchen in our vicinity. She was the daughter of a small farmer, and when the time came for her to be earning her living, her parents wisely thought it far better that she should gain it in a way which would at the same time establish her health and fit her for her own future home. In a cheerful, light, airy kitchen, which was kept so tidy always as to be an attractive sitting-room, she and another young country girl were trained up in the best of domestic economies by a mistress who looked well to the ways of her household, till at length they married from the house with honor, and went to practice in homes of their own the lessons they had learned in the home of another. Formerly, in New England, such instances were not uncommon; would that they might become so again!" "The fact is," said my wife, "the places which the daughters of American farmers used to occupy in our families are now taken by young girls from the families of small farmers in Ireland. They are respectable, tidy, healthy, and capable of being taught. A good mistress, who is reasonable and liberal in her treatment, is able to make them fixtures. They get good wages, and have few expenses. They dress handsomely, have abundant leisure to take care of their clothes and turn their wardrobes to the best account, and they very soon acquire skill in doing it equal to that displayed by any women of any country. They remit money continually to relatives in Ireland, and from time to time pay the passage of one and another to this country,--and whole families have thus been established in American life by the efforts of one young girl. Now, for my part, I do not grudge my Irish fellow citizens these advantages obtained by honest labor and good conduct; they deserve all the good fortune thus accruing to them. But when I see sickly, nervous American women jostling and struggling in the few crowded avenues which are open to mere brain, I cannot help thinking how much better their lot would have been, with good strong bodies, steady nerves, healthy digestion, and the habit of looking any kind of work in the face, which used to be characteristic of American women generally, and of Yankee women in particular." "The matter becomes still graver," said I, "by the laws of descent. The woman who enfeebles her muscular system by sedentary occupation, and over-stimulates her brain and nervous system, when she becomes a mother perpetuates these evils to her offspring. Her children will be born feeble and delicate, incapable of sustaining any severe strain of body or mind. The universal cry now about the ill health of young American girls is the fruit of some three generations of neglect of physical exercise and undue stimulus of brain and nerves. Young girls now are universally _born_ delicate. The most careful hygienic treatment during childhood, the strictest attention to diet, dress, and exercise, succeeds merely so far as to produce a girl who is healthy so long only as she does nothing. With the least strain, her delicate organism gives out, now here, now there. She cannot study without her eyes fail or she has headache,--she cannot get up her own muslins, or sweep a room, or pack a trunk, without bringing on a backache,--she goes to a concert or a lecture, and must lie by all the next day from the exertion. If she skates, she is sure to strain some muscle; or if she falls and strikes her knee or hits her ankle, a blow that a healthy girl would forget in five minutes terminates in some mysterious lameness which confines our poor sibyl for months. "The young American girl of our times is a creature who has not a particle of vitality to spare,--no reserved stock of force to draw upon in cases of family exigency. She is exquisitely strung, she is cultivated, she is refined; but she is too nervous, too wiry, too sensitive,--she burns away too fast; only the easiest of circumstances, the most watchful of care and nursing, can keep her within the limits of comfortable health; and yet this is the creature who must undertake family life in a country where it is next to an absolute impossibility to have permanent domestics. Frequent change, occasional entire breakdowns, must be the lot of the majority of housekeepers,--particularly those who do not live in cities." "In fact," said my wife, "we in America have so far got out of the way of a womanhood that has any vigor of outline or opulence of physical proportions that, when we see a woman made as a woman ought to be, she strikes us as a monster. Our willowy girls are afraid of nothing so much as growing stout; and if a young lady begins to round into proportions like the women in Titian's and Giorgione's pictures, she is distressed above measure, and begins to make secret inquiries into reducing diet, and to cling desperately to the strongest corset-lacing as her only hope. It would require one to be better educated than most of our girls are, to be willing to look like the Sistine Madonna or the Venus of Milo. "Once in a while our Italian opera-singers bring to our shores those glorious physiques which formed the inspiration of Italian painters; and then American editors make coarse jokes about Barnum's fat woman, and avalanches, and pretend to be struck with terror at such dimensions. "We should be better instructed, and consider that Italy does us a favor, in sending us specimens, not only of higher styles of musical art, but of a warmer, richer, and more abundant womanly life. The magnificent voice is only in keeping with the magnificent proportions of the singer. A voice which has no grate, no strain, which flows without effort,--which does not labor eagerly up to a high note, but alights on it like a bird from above, there carelessly warbling and trilling,--a voice which then without effort sinks into broad, rich, sombre depths of soft, heavy chest-tone,--can come only with a physical nature at once strong, wide, and fine,--from a nature such as the sun of Italy ripens, as he does her golden grapes, filling it with the new wine of song." "Well," said I, "so much for our strictures on Miss Letitia's letter. What comes next?" "Here is a correspondent who answers the question, 'What shall we do with her?'--apropos of the case of the distressed young woman which we considered in our first chapter." "And what does he recommend?" "He tells us that he should advise us to make our distressed woman Marianne's housekeeper, and to send South for three or four contrabands for her to train, and, with great apparent complacency, seems to think that course will solve all similar cases of difficulty." "That's quite a man's view of the subject," said Jenny. "They think any woman who isn't particularly fitted to do anything else can keep house." "As if housekeeping were not the very highest craft and mystery of social life," said I. "I admit that our sex speak too unadvisedly on such topics, and, being well instructed by my household priestesses, will humbly suggest the following ideas to my correspondent. "1st. A woman is not of course fit to be a housekeeper because she is a woman of good education and refinement. "2d. If she were, a family with young children in it is not the proper place to establish a school for untaught contrabands, however desirable their training may be. "A woman of good education and good common sense may learn to be a good housekeeper, as she learns any trade, by going into a good family and practicing first one and then another branch of the business, till finally she shall acquire the comprehensive knowledge to direct all. "The next letter I will read:-- "DEAR MR. CROWFIELD,--Your papers relating to the domestic problem have touched upon a difficulty which threatens to become a matter of life and death with me. "I am a young man, with good health, good courage, and good prospects. I have, for a young man, a fair income, and a prospect of its increase. But my business requires me to reside in a country town, near a great manufacturing city. The demand for labor there has made such a drain on the female population of the vicinity, that it seems, for a great part of the time, impossible to keep any servants at all; and what we can hire are of the poorest quality, and want exorbitant wages. My wife was a well-trained housekeeper, and knows perfectly all that pertains to the care of a family; but she has three little children, and a delicate babe only a few weeks old; and can any one woman do all that is needed for such a household? Something must be trusted to servants; and what is thus trusted brings such confusion and waste and dirt into our house, that the poor woman is constantly distraught between the disgust of having them and the utter impossibility of doing without them. "Now, it has been suggested that we remedy the trouble by paying higher wages; but I find that for the very highest wages I secure only the most miserable service; and yet, poor as it is, we are obliged to put up with it, because there is an amount of work to be done in our family that is absolutely beyond my wife's strength. "I see her health wearing away under these trials, her life made a burden; I feel no power to help her, and I ask you, Mr. Crowfield, What are we to do? What is to become of family life in this country? "Yours truly, "A YOUNG FAMILY MAN." "My friend's letter," said I, "touches upon the very hinge of the difficulty of domestic life with the present generation. "The real, vital difficulty, after all, in our American life is, that our country is so wide, so various, so abounding in the richest fields of enterprise, that in every direction the cry is of the plenteousness of the harvest and the fewness of the laborers. In short, there really are not laborers enough to do the work of the country. "Since the war has thrown the whole South open to the competition of free labor, the demand for workers is doubled and trebled. Manufactories of all sorts are enlarging their borders, increasing their machinery, and calling for more hands. Every article of living is demanded with an imperativeness and over an extent of territory which set at once additional thousands to the task of production. Instead of being easier to find hands to execute in all branches of useful labor, it is likely to grow every year more difficult, as new departments of manufacture and trade divide the workers. The price of labor, even now higher in this country than in any other, will rise still higher, and thus complicate still more the problem of domestic life. Even if a reasonable quota of intelligent women choose domestic service, the demand will be increasingly beyond the supply." "And what have you to say to this," said my wife, "seeing you cannot stop the prosperity of the country?" "Simply this,--that communities will be driven to organize, as they now do in Europe, to lessen the labors of individual families by having some of the present domestic tasks done out of the house. "In France, for example, no housekeeper counts either washing, ironing, or bread-making as part of her domestic cares. All the family washing goes out to a laundry, and being attended to by those who make that department of labor a specialty, it comes home in refreshingly beautiful order. "We in America, though we pride ourselves on our Yankee thrift, are far behind the French in domestic economy. If all the families of a neighborhood should put together the sums they separately spend in buying or fitting up and keeping in repair tubs, boilers, and other accommodations for washing, all that is consumed or wasted in soap, starch, bluing, fuel, together with the wages and board of an extra servant, the aggregate would suffice to fit up a neighborhood laundry, where one or two capable women could do easily and well what ten or fifteen women now do painfully and ill, and to the confusion and derangement of all other family processes. "The model laundries for the poor in London had facilities which would enable a woman to do both the washing and ironing of a small family in from two to three hours, and were so arranged that a very few women could, with ease, do the work of a neighborhood. "But in the absence of an establishment of this sort, the housekeepers of a country village might help themselves very much by owning a mangle in common, to which all the heavier parts of the ironing could be sent. American ingenuity has greatly improved the machinery of the mangle. It is no longer the heavy, cumbersome, structure that it used to be in the Old World, but a compact, neat piece of apparatus, made in three or four different sizes to suit different-sized apartments. "Mr. H. F. Bond, of Waltham, Massachusetts, now manufactures these articles, and sends them to all parts of the country. The smallest of them does not take up much more room than a sewing-machine, can be turned by a boy of ten or twelve, and thus in the course of an hour or two the heaviest and most fatiguing part of a family ironing may be accomplished. "I should certainly advise the 'Young Family Man' with a delicate wife and uncertain domestic help to fortify his kitchen with one of these fixtures. "But after all, I still say that the quarter to which I look for the solution of the American problem of domestic life is a wise use of the principle of association. "The future model village of New England, as I see it, shall have for the use of its inhabitants not merely a town lyceum hall and a town library, but a town laundry, fitted up with conveniences such as no private house can afford, and paying a price to the operators which will enable them to command an excellence of work such as private families seldom realize. It will also have a town bakery, where the best of family bread, white, brown, and of all grains, shall be compounded; and lastly a town cook-shop, where soup and meats may be bought, ready for the table. Those of us who have kept house abroad remember the ease with which our foreign establishments were carried on. A suite of elegant apartments, a courier, and one female servant were the foundation of domestic life. Our courier boarded us at a moderate expense, and the servant took care of our rooms. Punctually at the dinner hour every day, our dinner came in on the head of a porter from a neighboring cook-shop. A large chest lined with tin, and kept warm by a tiny charcoal stove in the centre, being deposited in an anteroom, from it came forth first soup, then fish, then roasts of various names, and lastly pastry and confections,--far more courses than any reasonable Christian needs to keep him in healthy condition; and dinner being over, our box with its débris went out of the house, leaving a clear field. "Now I put it to the distressed 'Young Family Man' whether these three institutions of a bakery, a cook-shop, and a laundry, in the village where he lives, would not virtually annihilate his household cares, and restore peace and comfort to his now distracted family. "There really is no more reason why every family should make its own bread than its own butter,--why every family should do its own washing and ironing than its own tailoring or mantua-making. In France, where certainly the arts of economy are well studied, there is some specialty for many domestic needs for which we keep servants. The beautiful inlaid floors are kept waxed and glossy by a professional gentleman who wears a brush on his foot-sole, skates gracefully over the surface, and, leaving all right, departeth. Many families, each paying a small sum, keep this servant in common. "Now, if ever there was a community which needed to study the art of living, it is our American one; for, at present, domestic life is so wearing and so oppressive as seriously to affect health and happiness. Whatever has been done abroad in the way of comfort and convenience can be done here; and the first neighborhood that shall set the example of dividing the tasks and burdens of life by the judicious use of the principle of association will initiate a most important step in the way of national happiness and prosperity. "My solution, then, of the domestic problem may be formulized as follows:-- "1st. That women make self helpfulness and family helpfulness fashionable, and every woman use her muscles daily in enough household work to give her a good digestion. "2d. That the situation of a domestic be made so respectable and respected that well-educated American women shall be induced to take it as a training-school for their future family life. "3d. That families by association lighten the multifarious labors of the domestic sphere. "All of which I humbly submit to the good sense and enterprise of American readers and workers." VI BODILY RELIGION: A SERMON ON GOOD HEALTH One of our recent writers has said, that "good health is physical religion;" and it is a saying worthy to be printed in golden letters. But good health being physical religion, it fully shares that indifference with which the human race regards things confessedly the most important. The neglect of the soul is the trite theme of all religious teachers; and, next to their souls, there is nothing that people neglect so much as their bodies. Every person ought to be perfectly healthy, just as everybody ought to be perfectly religious; but, in point of fact, the greater part of mankind are so far from perfect moral or physical religion that they cannot even form a conception of the blessing beyond them. The mass of good, well-meaning Christians are not yet advanced enough to guess at the change which a perfect fidelity to Christ's spirit and precepts would produce in them. And the majority of people who call themselves well, because they are not, at present, upon any particular doctor's list, are not within sight of what perfect health would be. That fullness of life, that vigorous tone, and that elastic cheerfulness, which make the mere fact of existence a luxury, that suppleness which carries one like a well-built boat over every wave of unfavorable chance,--these are attributes of the perfect health seldom enjoyed. We see them in young children, in animals, and now and then, but rarely, in some adult human being, who has preserved intact the religion of the body through all opposing influences. Perfect health supposes not a state of mere quiescence, but of positive enjoyment in living. See that little fellow, as his nurse turns him out in the morning, fresh from his bath, his hair newly curled, and his cheeks polished like apples. Every step is a spring or a dance; he runs, he laughs, he shouts, his face breaks into a thousand dimpling smiles at a word. His breakfast of plain bread and milk is swallowed with an eager and incredible delight,--it is so good that he stops to laugh or thump the table now and then in expression of his ecstasy. All day long he runs and frisks and plays; and when at night the little head seeks the pillow, down go the eye-curtains, and sleep comes without a dream. In the morning his first note is a laugh and a crow, as he sits up in his crib and tries to pull papa's eyes open with his fat fingers. He is an embodied joy,--he is sunshine and music and laughter for all the house. With what a magnificent generosity does the Author of life endow a little mortal pilgrim in giving him at the outset of his career such a body as this! How miserable it is to look forward twenty years, when the same child, now grown a man, wakes in the morning with a dull, heavy head, the consequence of smoking and studying till twelve or one the night before; when he rises languidly to a late breakfast, and turns from this and tries that,--wants a deviled bone, or a cutlet with Worcestershire sauce, to make eating possible; and then, with slow and plodding step, finds his way to his office and his books. Verily the shades of the prison-house gather round the growing boy; for, surely, no one will deny that life often begins with health little less perfect than that of the angels. But the man who habitually wakes sodden, headachy, and a little stupid, and who needs a cup of strong coffee and various stimulating condiments to coax his bodily system into something like fair working order, does not suppose he is out of health. He says, "Very well, I thank you," to your inquiries,--merely because he has entirely forgotten what good health is. He is well, not because of any particular pleasure in physical existence, but well simply because he is not a subject for prescriptions. Yet there is no store of vitality, no buoyancy, no superabundant vigor, to resist the strain and pressure to which life puts him. A checked perspiration, a draught of air ill-timed, a crisis of perplexing business or care, and he is down with a bilious attack or an influenza, and subject to doctors' orders for an indefinite period. And if the case be so with men, how is it with women? How many women have at maturity the keen appetite, the joyous love of life and motion, the elasticity and sense of physical delight in existence, that little children have? How many have any superabundance of vitality with which to meet the wear and strain of life? And yet they call themselves well. But is it possible, in maturity, to have the joyful fullness of the life of childhood? Experience has shown that the delicious freshness of this dawning hour may be preserved even to midday, and may be brought back and restored after it has been for years a stranger. Nature, though a severe disciplinarian, is still, in many respects, most patient and easy to be entreated, and meets any repentant movement of her prodigal children with wonderful condescension. Take Bulwer's account of the first few weeks of his sojourn at Malvern, and you will read, in very elegant English, the story of an experience of pleasure which has surprised and delighted many a patient at a water-cure. The return to the great primitive elements of health--water, air, and simple food, with a regular system of exercise--has brought to many a jaded, weary, worn-down human being the elastic spirits, the simple, eager appetite, the sound sleep, of a little child. Hence the rude huts and châlets of the peasant Priessnitz were crowded with battered dukes and princesses and notables of every degree, who came from the hot, enervating luxury which had drained them of existence, to find a keener pleasure in peasants' bread under peasants' roofs than in soft raiment and palaces. No arts of French cookery can possibly make anything taste so well to a feeble and palled appetite as plain brown bread and milk taste to a hungry water-cure patient, fresh from bath and exercise. If the water-cure had done nothing more than establish the fact that the glow and joyousness of early life are things which may be restored after having been once wasted, it would have done a good work. For if Nature is so forgiving to those who have once lost or have squandered her treasures, what may not be hoped for us if we can learn the art of never losing the first health of childhood? And though with us, who have passed to maturity, it may be too late for the blessing, cannot something be done for the children who are yet to come after us? Why is the first health of childhood lost? Is it not the answer, that childhood is the only period of life in which bodily health is made a prominent object? Take our pretty boy, with cheeks like apples, who started in life with a hop, skip, and dance,--to whom laughter was like breathing, and who was enraptured with plain bread and milk,--how did he grow into the man who wakes so languid and dull, who wants strong coffee and Worcestershire sauce to make his breakfast go down? When and where did he drop the invaluable talisman that once made everything look brighter and taste better to him, however rude and simple, than now do the most elaborate combinations? What is the boy's history? Why, for the first seven years of his life his body is made of some account. It is watched, cared for, dieted, disciplined, fed with fresh air, and left to grow and develop like a thrifty plant. But from the time school education begins, the body is steadily ignored, and left to take care of itself. The boy is made to sit six hours a day in a close, hot room, breathing impure air, putting the brain and the nervous system upon a constant strain, while the muscular system is repressed to an unnatural quiet. During the six hours, perhaps twenty minutes are allowed for all that play of the muscles which, up to this time, has been the constant habit of his life. After this he is sent home with books, slate, and lessons to occupy an hour or two more in preparing for the next day. In the whole of this time there is no kind of effort to train the physical system by appropriate exercise. Something of the sort was attempted years ago in the infant schools, but soon given up; and now, from the time study first begins, the muscles are ignored in all primary schools. One of the first results is the loss of that animal vigor which formerly made the boy love motion for its own sake. Even in his leisure hours he no longer leaps and runs as he used to; he learns to sit still, and by and by sitting and lounging come to be the habit, and vigorous motion the exception, for most of the hours of the day. The education thus begun goes on from primary to high school, from high school to college, from college through professional studies of law, medicine, or theology, with this steady contempt for the body, with no provision for its culture, training, or development, but rather a direct and evident provision for its deterioration and decay. The want of suitable ventilation in school-rooms, recitation-rooms, lecture-rooms, offices, court-rooms, conference-rooms, and vestries, where young students of law, medicine, and theology acquire their earlier practice, is something simply appalling. Of itself it would answer for men the question, why so many thousand glad, active children come to a middle life without joy,--a life whose best estate is a sort of slow, plodding endurance. The despite and hatred which most men seem to feel for God's gift of fresh air, and their resolution to breathe as little of it as possible, could only come from a long course of education, in which they have been accustomed to live without it. Let any one notice the conduct of our American people traveling in railroad cars. We will suppose that about half of them are what might be called well-educated people, who have learned in books, or otherwise, that the air breathed from the lungs is laden with impurities,--that it is noxious and poisonous; and yet, travel with these people half a day, and you would suppose from their actions that they considered the external air as a poison created expressly to injure them, and that the only course of safety lay in keeping the cars hermetically sealed, and breathing over and over the vapor from each others' lungs. If a person in despair at the intolerable foulness raises a window, what frowns from all the neighboring seats, especially from great rough-coated men, who always seem the first to be apprehensive! The request to "put down that window" is almost sure to follow a moment or two of fresh air. In vain have rows of ventilators been put in the tops of some of the cars, for conductors and passengers are both of one mind, that these ventilators are inlets of danger, and must be kept carefully closed. Railroad traveling in America is systematically, and one would think carefully, arranged so as to violate every possible law of health. The old rule to keep the head cool and the feet warm is precisely reversed. A red-hot stove heats the upper stratum of air to oppression, while a stream of cold air is constantly circulating about the lower extremities. The most indigestible and unhealthy substances conceivable are generally sold in the cars or at way-stations for the confusion and distress of the stomach. Rarely can a traveler obtain so innocent a thing as a plain good sandwich of bread and meat, while pie, cake, doughnuts, and all other culinary atrocities are almost forced upon him at every stopping-place. In France, England, and Germany, the railroad cars are perfectly ventilated; the feet are kept warm by flat cases filled with hot water and covered with carpet, and answering the double purpose of warming the feet and diffusing an agreeable temperature through the car, without burning away the vitality of the air; while the arrangements at the refreshment-rooms provide for the passenger as wholesome and well-served a meal of healthy, nutritious food as could be obtained in any home circle. What are we to infer concerning the home habits of a nation of men who so resignedly allow their bodies to be poisoned and maltreated in traveling over such an extent of territory as is covered by our railroad lines? Does it not show that foul air and improper food are too much matters of course to excite attention? As a writer in "The Nation" has lately remarked, it is simply and only because the American nation like to have unventilated cars, and to be fed on pie and coffee at stopping-places, that nothing better is known to our travelers; if there were any marked dislike of such a state of things on the part of the people, it would not exist. We have wealth enough, and enterprise enough, and ingenuity enough, in our American nation, to compass with wonderful rapidity any end that really seems to us desirable. An army was improvised when an army was wanted,--and an army more perfectly equipped, more bountifully fed, than so great a body of men ever was before. Hospitals, Sanitary Commissions, and Christian Commissions all arose out of the simple conviction of the American people that they must arise. If the American people were equally convinced that foul air was a poison,--that to have cold feet and hot heads was to invite an attack of illness,--that maple-sugar, popcorn, peppermint candy, pie, doughnuts, and peanuts are not diet for reasonable beings,--they would have railroad accommodations very different from those now in existence. We have spoken of the foul air of court-rooms. What better illustration could be given of the utter contempt with which the laws of bodily health are treated, than the condition of these places? Our lawyers are our highly educated men. They have been through high-school and college training, they have learned the properties of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbonic-acid gas, and have seen a mouse die under an exhausted receiver, and of course they know that foul, unventilated rooms are bad for the health; and yet generation after generation of men so taught and trained will spend the greater part of their lives in rooms notorious for their close and impure air, without so much as an attempt to remedy the evil. A well-ventilated court-room is a four-leaved clover among court-rooms. Young men are constantly losing their health at the bar; lung diseases, dyspepsia, follow them up, gradually sapping their vitality. Some of the brightest ornaments of the profession have actually fallen dead as they stood pleading,--victims of the fearful pressure of poisonous and heated air upon the excited brain. The deaths of Salmon P. Chase of Portland, uncle of our present Chief Justice, and of Ezekiel Webster, the brother of our great statesman, are memorable examples of the calamitous effects of the errors dwelt upon; and yet, strange to say, nothing efficient is done to mend these errors, and give the body an equal chance with the mind in the pressure of the world's affairs. But churches, lecture-rooms, and vestries, and all buildings devoted especially to the good of the soul, are equally witness of the mind's disdain of the body's needs, and the body's consequent revenge upon the soul. In how many of these places has the question of a thorough provision of fresh air been even considered? People would never think of bringing a thousand persons into a desert place and keeping them there without making preparations to feed them. Bread and butter, potatoes and meat, must plainly be found for them; but a thousand human beings are put into a building to remain a given number of hours, and no one asks the question whether means exist for giving each one the quantum of fresh air needed for his circulation, and these thousand victims will consent to be slowly poisoned, gasping, sweating, getting red in the face, with confused and sleepy brains, while a minister with a yet redder face and a more oppressed brain struggles and wrestles, through the hot, seething vapors, to make clear to them the mysteries of faith. How many churches are there that for six or eight months in the year are never ventilated at all, except by the accidental opening of doors? The foul air generated by one congregation is locked up by the sexton for the use of the next assembly; and so gathers and gathers from week to week, and month to month, while devout persons upbraid themselves, and are ready to tear their hair, because they always feel stupid and sleepy in church. The proper ventilation of their churches and vestries would remove that spiritual deadness of which their prayers and hymns complain. A man hoeing his corn out on a breezy hillside is bright and alert, his mind works clearly, and he feels interested in religion, and thinks of many a thing that might be said at the prayer-meeting at night. But at night, when he sits down in a little room where the air reeks with the vapor of his neighbor's breath and the smoke of kerosene lamps, he finds himself suddenly dull and drowsy,--without emotion, without thought, without feeling,--and he rises and reproaches himself for this state of things. He calls upon his soul and all that is within him to bless the Lord; but the indignant body, abused, insulted, ignored, takes the soul by the throat, and says, "If you won't let _me_ have a good time, neither shall you." Revivals of religion, with ministers and with those people whose moral organization leads them to take most interest in them, often end in periods of bodily ill health and depression. But is there any need of this? Suppose that a revival of religion required, as a formula, that all the members of a given congregation should daily take a minute dose of arsenic in concert,--we should not be surprised after a while to hear of various ill effects therefrom; and, as vestries and lecture-rooms are now arranged, a daily prayer-meeting is often nothing more nor less than a number of persons spending half an hour a day breathing poison from each other's lungs. There is not only no need of this, but, on the contrary, a good supply of pure air would make the daily prayer-meeting far more enjoyable. The body, if allowed the slightest degree of fair play, so far from being a contumacious infidel and opposer, becomes a very fair Christian helper, and, instead of throttling the soul, gives it wings to rise to celestial regions. This branch of our subject we will quit with one significant anecdote. A certain rural church was somewhat famous for its picturesque Gothic architecture, and equally famous for its sleepy atmosphere, the rules of Gothic symmetry requiring very small windows, which could be only partially opened. Everybody was affected alike in this church; minister and people complained that it was like the enchanted ground in the Pilgrim's Progress. Do what they would, sleep was ever at their elbows; the blue, red, and green of the painted windows melted into a rainbow dimness of hazy confusion; and ere they were aware, they were off on a cloud to the land of dreams. An energetic sister in the church suggested the inquiry, whether it was ever ventilated, and discovered that it was regularly locked up at the close of service, and remained so till opened for the next week. She suggested the inquiry, whether giving the church a thorough airing on Saturday would not improve the Sunday services; but nobody acted on her suggestion. Finally, she borrowed the sexton's key one Saturday night, and went into the church and opened all the windows herself, and let them remain so for the night. The next day everybody remarked the improved comfort of the church, and wondered what had produced the change. Nevertheless, when it was discovered, it was not deemed a matter of enough importance to call for an order on the sexton to perpetuate the improvement. The ventilation of private dwellings in this country is such as might be expected from that entire indifference to the laws of health manifested in public establishments. Let a person travel in private conveyance up through the valley of the Connecticut, and stop for a night at the taverns which he will usually find at the end of each day's stage. The bedchamber into which he will be ushered will be the concentration of all forms of bad air. The house is redolent of the vegetables in the cellar,--cabbages, turnips, and potatoes; and this fragrance is confined and retained by the custom of closing the window blinds and dropping the inside curtains, so that neither air nor sunshine enters in to purify. Add to this the strong odor of a new feather bed and pillows, and you have a combination of perfumes most appalling to a delicate sense. Yet travelers take possession of these rooms, sleep in them all night without raising the window or opening the blinds, and leave them to be shut up for other travelers. The spare chamber of many dwellings seems to be an hermetically closed box, opened only twice a year, for spring and fall cleaning; but for the rest of the time closed to the sun and the air of heaven. Thrifty country housekeepers often adopt the custom of making their beds on the instant after they are left, without airing the sheets and mattresses; and a bed so made gradually becomes permeated with the insensible emanations of the human body, so as to be a steady corrupter of the atmosphere. In the winter, the windows are calked and listed, the throat of the chimney built up with a tight brick wall, and a close stove is introduced to help burn out the vitality of the air. In a sitting-room like this, from five to ten persons will spend about eight months of the year, with no other ventilation than that gained by the casual opening and shutting of doors. Is it any wonder that consumption every year sweeps away its thousands?--that people are suffering constant chronic ailments,--neuralgia, nervous dyspepsia, and all the host of indefinite bad feelings that rob life of sweetness and flower and bloom? A recent writer raises the inquiry, whether the community would not gain in health by the demolition of all dwelling-houses. That is, he suggests the question, whether the evils from foul air are not so great and so constant that they countervail the advantages of shelter. Consumptive patients far gone have been known to be cured by long journeys, which have required them to be day and night in the open air. Sleep under the open heaven, even though the person be exposed to the various accidents of weather, has often proved a miraculous restorer after everything else had failed. But surely, if simple fresh air is so healing and preserving a thing, some means might be found to keep the air in a house just as pure and vigorous as it is outside. An article in the May number of "Harpers' Magazine" presents drawings of a very simple arrangement by which any house can be made thoroughly self-ventilating. Ventilation, as this article shows, consists in two things,--a perfect and certain expulsion from the dwelling of all foul air breathed from the lungs or arising from any other cause, and the constant supply of pure air. One source of foul air cannot be too much guarded against,--we mean imperfect gas-pipes. A want of thoroughness in execution is the sin of our American artisans, and very few gas-fixtures are so thoroughly made that more or less gas does not escape and mingle with the air of the dwelling. There are parlors where plants cannot be made to live, because the gas kills them; and yet their occupants do not seem to reflect that an air in which a plant cannot live must be dangerous for a human being. The very clemency and long-suffering of Nature to those who persistently violate her laws is one great cause why men are, physically speaking, such sinners as they are. If foul air poisoned at once and completely, we should have well-ventilated houses, whatever else we failed to have. But because people can go on for weeks, months, and years breathing poisons, and slowly and imperceptibly lowering the tone of their vital powers, and yet be what they call "pretty well, I thank you," sermons on ventilation and fresh air go by them as an idle song. "I don't see but we are well enough, and we never took much pains about these things. There's air enough gets into houses, of course. What with doors opening and windows occasionally lifted, the air of houses is generally good enough;"--and so the matter is dismissed. One of Heaven's great hygienic teachers is now abroad in the world, giving lessons on health to the children of men. The cholera is like the angel whom God threatened to send as leader to the rebellious Israelites. "Beware of him, obey his voice, and provoke him not; for he will not pardon your transgressions." The advent of this fearful messenger seems really to be made necessary by the contempt with which men treat the physical laws of their being. What else could have purified the dark places of New York? What a wiping-up and reforming and cleansing is going before him through the country! At last we find that Nature is in earnest, and that her laws cannot be always ignored with impunity. Poisoned air is recognized at last as an evil,--even although the poison cannot be weighed, measured, or tasted; and if all the precautions that men are now willing to take could be made perpetual, the alarm would be a blessing to the world. Like the principles of spiritual religion, the principles of physical religion are few and easy to be understood. An old medical apothegm personifies the hygienic forces as the Doctors Air, Diet, Exercise, and Quiet: and these four will be found, on reflection, to cover the whole ground of what is required to preserve human health. A human being whose lungs have always been nourished by pure air, whose stomach has been fed only by appropriate food, whose muscles have been systematically trained by appropriate exercises, and whose mind is kept tranquil by faith in God and a good conscience, has perfect physical religion. There is a line where physical religion must necessarily overlap spiritual religion and rest upon it. No human being can be assured of perfect health, through all the strain and wear and tear of such cares and such perplexities as life brings, without the rest of faith in God. An unsubmissive, unconfiding, unresigned soul will make vain the best hygienic treatment; and, on the contrary, the most saintly religious resolution and purpose may be defeated and vitiated by an habitual ignorance and disregard of the laws of the physical system. Perfect spiritual religion cannot exist without perfect physical religion. Every flaw and defect in the bodily system is just so much taken from the spiritual vitality: we are commanded to glorify God, not simply in our spirits, but in our bodies and spirits. The only example of perfect manhood the world ever saw impresses us more than anything else by an atmosphere of perfect healthiness. There is a calmness, a steadiness, in the character of Jesus, a naturalness in his evolution of the sublimest truths under the strain of the most absorbing and intense excitement, that could come only from the one perfectly trained and developed body, bearing as a pure and sacred shrine the One Perfect Spirit. Jesus of Nazareth, journeying on foot from city to city, always calm yet always fervent, always steady yet glowing with a white heat of sacred enthusiasm, able to walk and teach all day and afterwards to continue in prayer all night, with unshaken nerves, sedately patient, serenely reticent, perfectly self-controlled, walked the earth, the only man that perfectly glorified God in His body no less than in His spirit. It is worthy of remark, that in choosing His disciples He chose plain men from the laboring classes, who had lived the most obediently to the simple, unperverted laws of nature. He chose men of good and pure bodies,--simple, natural, childlike, healthy men,--and baptized their souls with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. The hygienic bearings of the New Testament have never been sufficiently understood. The basis of them lies in the solemn declaration, that our bodies are to be temples of the Holy Spirit, and that all abuse of them is of the nature of sacrilege. Reverence for the physical system, as the outward shrine and temple of the spiritual, is the peculiarity of the Christian religion. The doctrine of the resurrection of the body, and its physical immortality, sets the last crown of honor upon it. That bodily system which God declared worthy to be gathered back from the dust of the grave, and re-created, as the soul's immortal companion, must necessarily be dear and precious in the eyes of its Creator. The one passage in the New Testament in which it is spoken of disparagingly is where Paul contrasts it with the brighter glory of what is to come: "He shall change our vile bodies, that they may be fashioned like his glorious body." From this passage has come abundance of reviling of the physical system. Memoirs of good men are full of abuse of it, as the clog, the load, the burden, the chain. It is spoken of as pollution, as corruption,--in short, one would think that the Creator had imitated the cruelty of some Oriental despots who have been known to chain a festering corpse to a living body. Accordingly, the memoirs of these pious men are also mournful records of slow suicide, wrought by the persistent neglect of the most necessary and important laws of the bodily system; and the body, outraged and downtrodden, has turned traitor to the soul, and played the adversary with fearful power. Who can tell the countless temptations to evil which flow in from a neglected, disordered, deranged nervous system,--temptations to anger, to irritability, to selfishness, to every kind of sin of appetite and passion? No wonder that the poor soul longs for the hour of release from such a companion. But that human body which God declares expressly was made to be the temple of the Holy Spirit, which he considers worthy to be perpetuated by a resurrection and an immortal existence, cannot be intended to be a clog and a hindrance to spiritual advancement. A perfect body, working in perfect tune and time, would open glimpses of happiness to the soul approaching the joys we hope for in heaven. It is only through the images of things which our bodily senses have taught us, that we can form any conception of that future bliss; and the more perfect these senses, the more perfect our conceptions must be. The conclusion of the whole matter, and the practical application of this sermon, is,--First, that all men set themselves to form the idea of what perfect health is, and resolve to realize it for themselves and their children. Second, that with a view to this they study the religion of the body, in such simple and popular treatises as those of George Combe, Dr. Dio Lewis, and others, and with simple and honest hearts practice what they there learn. Third, that the training of the bodily system should form a regular part of our common-school education,--every common school being provided with a well-instructed teacher of gymnastics; and the growth and development of each pupil's body being as much noticed and marked as is now the growth of his mind. The same course should be continued and enlarged in colleges and female seminaries, which should have professors of hygiene appointed to give thorough instruction concerning the laws of health. And when this is all done, we may hope that crooked spines, pimpled faces, sallow complexions, stooping shoulders, and all other signs indicating an undeveloped physical vitality, will, in the course of a few generations, disappear from the earth, and men will have bodies which will glorify God, their great Architect. The soul of man has got as far as it can without the body. Religion herself stops and looks back, waiting for the body to overtake her. The soul's great enemy and hindrance can be made her best friend and most powerful help; and it is high time that this era were begun. We old sinners, who have lived carelessly, and almost spent our day of grace, may not gain much of its good; but the children,--shall there not be a more perfect day for them? Shall there not come a day when the little child, whom Christ set forth to his disciples as the type of the greatest in the kingdom of heaven, shall be the type no less of our physical than our spiritual advancement,--when men and women shall arise, keeping through long and happy lives the simple, unperverted appetites, the joyous freshness of spirit, the keen delight in mere existence, the dreamless sleep and happy waking of early childhood? VII HOW SHALL WE ENTERTAIN OUR COMPANY "The fact is," said Marianne, "we must have a party. Bob don't like to hear of it, but it must come. We are in debt to everybody: we have been invited everywhere, and never had anything like a party since we were married, and it won't do." "For my part, I hate parties," said Bob. "They put your house all out of order, give all the women a sick-headache, and all the men an indigestion; you never see anybody to any purpose; the girls look bewitched, and the women answer you at cross-purposes, and call you by the name of your next-door neighbor, in their agitation of mind. We stay out beyond our usual bedtime, come home and find some baby crying, or child who has been sitting up till nobody knows when; and the next morning, when I must be at my office by eight, and wife must attend to her children, we are sleepy and headachy. I protest against making overtures to entrap some hundred of my respectable married friends into this snare which has so often entangled me. If I had my way, I would never go to another party; and as to giving one--I suppose, since my empress has declared her intentions, that I shall be brought into doing it; but it shall be under protest." "But, you see, we must keep up society," said Marianne. "But I insist on it," said Bob, "it isn't keeping up society. What earthly thing do you learn about people by meeting them in a general crush, where all are coming, going, laughing, talking, and looking at each other? No person of common sense ever puts forth any idea he cares twopence about, under such circumstances; all that is exchanged is a certain set of commonplaces and platitudes which people keep for parties, just as they do their kid gloves and finery. Now there are our neighbors, the Browns. When they drop in of an evening, she knitting, and he with the last article in the paper, she really comes out with a great deal of fresh, lively, earnest, original talk. We have a good time, and I like her so much that it quite verges on loving; but see her in a party, when she manifests herself over five or six flounces of pink silk and a perfect egg-froth of tulle, her head adorned with a thicket of crêped hair and roses, and it is plain at first view that talking with her is quite out of the question. What has been done to her head on the outside has evidently had some effect within, for she is no longer the Mrs. Brown you knew in her every-day dress, but Mrs. Brown in a party state of mind, and too distracted to think of anything in particular. She has a few words that she answers to everything you say, as for example, 'Oh, very!' 'Certainly!' 'How extraordinary!' 'So happy to,' etc. The fact is, that she has come into a state in which any real communication with her mind and character must be suspended till the party is over and she is rested. Now I like society, which is the reason why I hate parties." "But you see," said Marianne, "what are we to do? Everybody can't drop in to spend an evening with you. If it were not for these parties, there are quantities of your acquaintances whom you would never meet." "And of what use is it to meet them? Do you really know them any better for meeting them got up in unusual dresses, and sitting down together when the only thing exchanged is the remark that it is hot or cold, or it rains, or it is dry, or any other patent surface-fact that answers the purpose of making believe you are talking when neither of you is saying a word?" "Well, now, for my part," said Marianne, "I confess I like parties: they amuse me. I come home feeling kinder and better to people, just for the little I see of them when they are all dressed up and in good humor with themselves. To be sure we don't say anything very profound,--I don't think the most of us have anything profound to say; but I ask Mrs. Brown where she buys her lace, and she tells me how she washes it, and somebody else tells me about her baby, and promises me a new sack-pattern. Then I like to see the pretty, nice young girls flirting with the nice young men; and I like to be dressed up a little myself, even if my finery is all old and many times made over. It does me good to be rubbed up and brightened." "Like old silver," said Bob. "Yes, like old silver, precisely; and even if I do come home tired, it does my mind good to have that change of scene and faces. You men do not know what it is to be tied to house and nursery all day, and what a perfect weariness and lassitude it often brings on us women. For my part I think parties are a beneficial institution of society, and that it is worth a good deal of fatigue and trouble to get one up." "Then there's the expense," said Bob. "What earthly need is there of a grand regale of oysters, chicken salad, ice-creams, coffee, and champagne, between eleven and twelve o'clock at night, when no one of us would ever think of wanting or taking any such articles upon our stomachs in our own homes? If we were all of us in the habit of having a regular repast at that hour, it might be well enough to enjoy one with our neighbor; but the party fare is generally just so much in addition to the honest three meals which we have eaten during the day. Now, to spend from fifty to one, two, or three hundred dollars in giving all our friends an indigestion from a midnight meal seems to me a very poor investment. Yet if we once begin to give the party, we must have everything that is given at the other parties, or wherefore do we live? And caterers and waiters rack their brains to devise new forms of expense and extravagance; and when the bill comes in, one is sure to feel that one is paying a great deal of money for a great deal of nonsense. It is in fact worse than nonsense, because our dear friends are, in half the cases, not only no better, but a great deal worse, for what they have eaten." "But there is this advantage to society," said Rudolph,--"it helps us young physicians. What would the physicians do if parties were abolished? Take all the colds that are caught by our fair friends with low necks and short sleeves, all the troubles from dancing in tight dresses and inhaling bad air, and all the headaches and indigestion from the _mélange_ of lobster salad, two or three kinds of ice-cream, cake, and coffee on delicate stomachs, and our profession gets a degree of encouragement that is worthy to be thought of." "But the question arises," said my wife, "whether there are not ways of promoting social feeling less expensive, more simple and natural and rational. I am inclined to think that there are." "Yes," said Theophilus Thoro; "for large parties are not, as a general thing, given with any wish or intention of really improving our acquaintance with our neighbors. In many cases they are openly and avowedly a general tribute paid at intervals to society, for and in consideration of which you are to sit with closed blinds and doors and be let alone for the rest of the year. Mrs. Bogus, for instance, lives to keep her house in order, her closets locked, her silver counted and in the safe, and her china-closet in undisturbed order. Her 'best things' are put away with such admirable precision, in so many wrappings and foldings, and secured with so many a twist and twine, that to get them out is one of the seven labors of Hercules, not to be lightly or unadvisedly taken in hand, but reverently, discreetly, and once for all, in an annual or biennial party. Then says Mrs. Bogus, 'For Heaven's sake, let's have every creature we can think of, and have 'em all over with at once. For pity's sake, let's have no driblets left that we shall have to be inviting to dinner or to tea. No matter whether they can come or not,--only send them the invitation, and our part is done; and, thank Heaven! we shall be free for a year.'" "Yes," said my wife; "a great stand-up party bears just the same relation towards the offer of real hospitality and good will as Miss Sally Brass's offer of meat to the little hungry Marchioness, when, with a bit uplifted on the end of a fork, she addressed her, 'Will you have this piece of meat? No? Well, then, remember and don't say you haven't had meat _offered_ to you!' You are invited to a general jam, at the risk of your life and health; and if you refuse, don't say you haven't had hospitality offered to you. All our debts are wiped out and our slate clean; now we will have our own closed doors, no company and no trouble, and our best china shall repose undisturbed on its shelves. Mrs. Bogus says she never could exist in the way that Mrs. Easygo does, with a constant drip of company,--two or three to breakfast one day, half a dozen to dinner the next, and little evening gatherings once or twice a week. It must keep her house in confusion all the time; yet, for real social feeling, real exchange of thought and opinion, there is more of it in one half-hour at Mrs. Easygo's than in a dozen of Mrs. Bogus's great parties. "The fact is, that Mrs. Easygo really does like the society of human beings. She is genuinely and heartily social; and, in consequence, though she has very limited means, and no money to spend in giving great entertainments, her domestic establishment is a sort of social exchange, where more friendships are formed, more real acquaintance made, and more agreeable hours spent, than in any other place that can be named. She never has large parties,--great general pay-days of social debts,--but small, well-chosen circles of people, selected so thoughtfully, with a view to the pleasure which congenial persons give each other, as to make the invitation an act of real personal kindness. She always manages to have something for the entertainment of her friends, so that they are not reduced to the simple alternative of gaping at each other's dresses and eating lobster salad and ice-cream. There is either some choice music, or a reading of fine poetry, or a well-acted charade, or a portfolio of photographs and pictures, to enliven the hour and start conversation; and as the people are skillfully chosen with reference to each other, as there is no hurry or heat or confusion, conversation, in its best sense, can bubble up, fresh, genuine, clear, and sparkling as a woodland spring, and one goes away really rested and refreshed. The slight entertainment provided is just enough to enable you to eat salt together in Arab fashion,--not enough to form the leading feature of the evening. A cup of tea and a basket of cake, or a salver of ices, silently passed at quiet intervals, do not interrupt conversation or overload the stomach." "The fact is," said I, "that the art of society among us Anglo-Saxons is yet in its rudest stages. We are not, as a race, social and confiding, like the French and Italians and Germans. We have a word for home, and our home is often a moated grange, an island, a castle with its drawbridge up, cutting us off from all but our own home-circle. In France and Germany and Italy there are the boulevards and public gardens, where people do their family living in common. Mr. A. is breakfasting under one tree, with wife and children around, and Mr. B. is breakfasting under another tree, hard by; and messages, nods, and smiles pass backward and forward. Families see each other daily in these public resorts, and exchange mutual offices of good will. Perhaps from these customs of society come that naïve simplicity and abandon which one remarks in the Continental, in opposition to the Anglo-Saxon, habits of conversation. A Frenchman or an Italian will talk to you of his feeling and plans and prospects with an unreserve that is perfectly unaccountable to you, who have always felt that such things must be kept for the very innermost circle of home privacy. But the Frenchman or Italian has from a child been brought up to pass his family life in places of public resort, in constant contact and intercommunion with other families; and the social and conversational instinct has thus been daily strengthened. Hence the reunions of these people have been characterized by a sprightliness and vigor and spirit that the Anglo-Saxon has in vain attempted to seize and reproduce. English and American _conversazioni_ have very generally proved a failure, from the rooted, frozen habit of reticence and reserve which grows with our growth and strengthens with our strength. The fact is, that the Anglo-Saxon race as a race does not enjoy talking, and, except in rare instances, does not talk well. A daily convocation of people, without refreshments or any extraneous object but the simple pleasure of seeing and talking with each other, is a thing that can scarcely be understood in English or American society. Social entertainment presupposes in the Anglo-Saxon mind something to eat, and not only something, but a great deal. Enormous dinners or great suppers constitute the entertainment. Nobody seems to have formed the idea that the talking--the simple exchange of social feelings--is, of itself, the entertainment, and that being together is the pleasure. "Madame Rocamier for years had a circle of friends who met every afternoon in her salon from four to six o'clock, for the simple and sole pleasure of talking with each other. The very first wits and men of letters and statesmen and savans were enrolled in it, and each brought to the entertainment some choice morceau which he had laid aside from his own particular field to add to the feast. The daily intimacy gave each one such perfect insight into all the others' habits of thought, tastes, and preferences, that the conversation was like the celebrated music of the Conservatoire in Paris, a concert of perfectly chorded instruments taught by long habit of harmonious intercourse to keep exact time and tune together. "Real conversation presupposes intimate acquaintance. People must see each other often enough to wear off the rough bark and outside rind of commonplaces and conventionalities in which their real ideas are enwrapped, and give forth without reserve their innermost and best feelings. Now what is called a large party is the first and rudest form of social intercourse. The most we can say of it is, that it is better than nothing. Men and women are crowded together like cattle in a pen. They look at each other, they jostle each other, exchange a few common bleatings, and eat together; and so the performance terminates. One may be crushed evening after evening against men or women, and learn very little about them. You may decide that a lady is good-tempered, when any amount of trampling on the skirt of her new silk dress brings no cloud to her brow. But _is_ it good temper, or only wanton carelessness, which cares nothing for waste? You can see that a man is not a gentleman who squares his back to ladies at the supper-table, and devours boned turkey and _paté de foie gras_, while they vainly reach over and around him for something, and that another is a gentleman so far as to prefer the care of his weaker neighbors to the immediate indulgence of his own appetites; but further than this you learn little. Sometimes, it is true, in some secluded corner, two people of fine nervous system, undisturbed by the general confusion, may have a sociable half-hour, and really part feeling that they like each other better, and know more of each other than before. Yet these general gatherings have, after all, their value. They are not so good as something better would be, but they cannot be wholly dispensed with. It is far better that Mrs. Bogus should give an annual party, when she takes down all her bedsteads and throws open her whole house, than that she should never see her friends and neighbors inside her doors at all. She may feel that she has neither the taste nor the talent for constant small reunions. Such things, she may feel, require a social tact which she has not. She would be utterly at a loss how to conduct them. Each one would cost her as much anxiety and thought as her annual gathering, and prove a failure after all; whereas the annual demonstration can be put wholly into the hands of the caterer, who comes in force, with flowers, silver, china, servants, and, taking the house into his own hands, gives her entertainment for her, leaving to her no responsibility but the payment of the bills; and if Mr. Bogus does not quarrel with them, we know no reason why any one else should; and I think Mrs. Bogus merits well of the republic, for doing what she can do towards the hospitalities of the season. I'm sure I never cursed her in my heart, even when her strong coffee has held mine eyes open till morning, and her superlative lobster salads have given me the very darkest views of human life that ever dyspepsia and east wind could engender. Mrs. Bogus is the Eve who offers the apple; but after all, I am the foolish Adam who take and eat what I know is going to hurt me, and I am too gallant to visit my sins on the head of my too obliging tempter. In country places in particular, where little is going on and life is apt to stagnate, a good, large, generous party, which brings the whole neighborhood into one house to have a jolly time, to eat, drink, and be merry, is really quite a work of love and mercy. People see one another in their best clothes, and that is something; the elders exchange all manner of simple pleasantries and civilities, and talk over their domestic affairs, while the young people flirt, in that wholesome manner which is one of the safest of youthful follies. A country party, in fact, may be set down as a work of benevolence, and the money expended thereon fairly charged to the account of the great cause of peace and good will on earth." "But don't you think," said my wife, "that, if the charge of providing the entertainment were less laborious, these gatherings could be more frequent? You see, if a woman feels that she must have five kinds of cake, and six kinds of preserves, and even ice-cream and jellies in a region where no confectioner comes in to abbreviate her labors, she will sit with closed doors, and do nothing towards the general exchange of life, because she cannot do as much as Mrs. Smith or Mrs. Parsons. If the idea of meeting together had some other focal point than eating, I think there would be more social feeling. It might be a musical reunion, where the various young people of a circle agreed to furnish each a song or an instrumental performance. It might be an impromptu charade party, bringing out something of that taste in arrangement of costume, and capacity for dramatic effect, of which there is more latent in society than we think. It might be the reading of articles in prose and poetry furnished to a common paper or portfolio, which would awaken an abundance of interest and speculation on the authorship, or it might be dramatic readings and recitations. Any or all of these pastimes might make an evening so entertaining that a simple cup of tea and a plate of cake or biscuit would be all the refreshment needed." "We may with advantage steal a leaf now and then from some foreign book," said I. "In France and Italy, families have their peculiar days set apart for the reception of friends at their own houses. The whole house is put upon a footing of hospitality and invitation, and the whole mind is given to receiving the various friends. In the evening the salon is filled. The guests, coming from week to week, for years, become in time friends; the resort has the charm of a home circle; there are certain faces that you are always sure to meet there. A lady once said to me of a certain gentleman and lady whom she missed from her circle, 'They have been at our house every Wednesday evening for twenty years.' It seems to me that this frequency of meeting is the great secret of agreeable society. One sees, in our American life, abundance of people who are everything that is charming and cultivated, but one never sees enough of them. One meets them at some quiet reunion, passes a delightful hour, thinks how charming they are, and wishes one could see more of them. But the pleasant meeting is like the encounter of two ships in mid-ocean: away we sail, each on his respective course, to see each other no more till the pleasant remembrance has died away. Yet were there some quiet, home-like resort where we might turn in to renew from time to time the pleasant intercourse, to continue the last conversation, and to compare anew our readings and our experiences, the pleasant hour of liking would ripen into a warm friendship. "But in order that this may be made possible and practicable, the utmost simplicity of entertainment must prevail. In a French salon all is to the last degree informal. The _bouilloire_, the French tea-kettle, is often tended by one of the gentlemen, who aids his fair neighbors in the mysteries of tea-making. One nymph is always to be found at the table dispensing tea and talk; and a basket of simple biscuit and cakes, offered by another, is all the further repast. The teacups and cake-basket are a real addition to the scene, because they cause a little lively social bustle, a little chatter and motion,--always of advantage in breaking up stiffness, and giving occasion for those graceful, airy nothings that answer so good a purpose in facilitating acquaintance. "Nothing can be more charming than the description which Edmond About gives, in his novel of 'Tolla,' of the reception evenings of an old noble Roman family,--the spirit of repose and quietude through all the apartments; the ease of coming and going; the perfect home-like spirit in which the guests settle themselves to any employment of the hour that best suits them: some to lively chat, some to dreamy, silent lounging, some to a game, others in a distant apartment to music, and others still to a promenade along the terraces. "One is often in a state of mind and nerves which indisposes for the effort of active conversation; one wishes to rest, to observe, to be amused without an effort; and a mansion which opens wide its hospitable arms, and offers itself to you as a sort of home, where you may rest, and do just as the humor suits you, is a perfect godsend at such times. You are at home there, your ways are understood, you can do as you please,--come early or late, be brilliant or dull,--you are always welcome. If you can do nothing for the social whole to-night, it matters not. There are many more nights to come in the future, and you are entertained on trust, without a challenge. "I have one friend,--a man of genius, subject to the ebbs and flows of animal spirits which attend that organization. Of general society he has a nervous horror. A regular dinner or evening party is to him a terror, an impossibility; but there is a quiet parlor where stands a much-worn old sofa, and it is his delight to enter without knocking, and be found lying with half-shut eyes on this friendly couch, while the family life goes on around him without a question. Nobody is to mind him, to tease him with inquiries or salutations. If he will, he breaks into the stream of conversation, and sometimes, rousing up from one of these dreamy trances, finds himself, ere he or they know how, in the mood for free and friendly talk. People often wonder, 'How do you catch So-and-so? He is so shy! I have invited and invited, and he never comes.' We never invite, and he comes. We take no note of his coming or his going; we do not startle his entrance with acclamation, nor clog his departure with expostulation; it is fully understood that with us he shall do just as he chooses; and so he chooses to do much that we like. "The sum of this whole doctrine of society is, that we are to try the value of all modes and forms of social entertainment by their effect in producing real acquaintance and real friendship and good will. The first and rudest form of seeking this is by a great promiscuous party, which simply effects this,--that people at least see each other on the outside, and eat together. Next come all those various forms of reunion in which the entertainment consists of something higher than staring and eating,--some exercise of the faculties of the guests in music, acting, recitation, reading, etc.; and these are a great advance, because they show people what is in them, and thus lay a foundation for a more intelligent appreciation and acquaintance. These are the best substitute for the expense, show, and trouble of large parties. They are in their nature more refining and intellectual. It is astonishing, when people really put together, in some one club or association, all the different talents for pleasing possessed by different persons, how clever a circle may be gathered,--in the least promising neighborhood. A club of ladies in one of our cities has had quite a brilliant success. It is held every fortnight at the houses of the members, according to alphabetical sequence. The lady who receives has charge of arranging what the entertainment shall be,--whether charade, tableau, reading, recitation, or music; and the interest is much increased by the individual taste shown in the choice of the diversion and the variety which thence follows. "In the summertime, in the country, open-air reunions are charming forms of social entertainment. Croquet parties, which bring young people together by daylight for a healthy exercise, and end with a moderate share of the evening, are a very desirable amusement. What are called 'lawn teas' are finding great favor in England and some parts of our country. They are simply an early tea enjoyed in a sort of picnic style in the grounds about the house. Such an entertainment enables one to receive a great many at a time, without crowding, and, being in its very idea rustic and informal, can be arranged with very little expense or trouble. With the addition of lanterns in the trees and a little music, this entertainment may be carried on far into the evening with a very pretty effect. "As to dancing, I have this much to say of it. Either our houses must be all built over and made larger, or female crinolines must be made smaller, or dancing must continue as it now is, the most absurd and ungraceful of all attempts at amusement. The effort to execute round dances in the limits of modern houses, in the prevailing style of dress, can only lead to developments more startling than agreeable. Dancing in the open air, on the shaven green of lawns, is a pretty and graceful exercise, and there only can full sweep be allowed for the present feminine toilet. "The English breakfast is an institution growing in favor here, and rightfully, too; for a party of fresh, good-natured, well-dressed people, assembled at breakfast on a summer morning, is as nearly perfect a form of reunion as can be devised. All are in full strength from their night's rest; the hour is fresh and lovely, and they are in condition to give each other the very cream of their thoughts, the first keen sparkle of the uncorked nervous system. The only drawback is that, in our busy American life, the most desirable gentlemen often cannot spare their morning hours. Breakfast parties presuppose a condition of leisure; but when they can be compassed, they are perhaps the most perfectly enjoyable of entertainments." "Well," said Marianne, "I begin to waver about my party. I don't know, after all, but the desire of paying off social debts prompted the idea; perhaps we might try some of the agreeable things suggested. But, dear me! there's the baby. We'll finish the talk some other time." VIII HOW SHALL WE BE AMUSED "One, two, three, four,--this makes the fifth accident on the Fourth of July, in the two papers I have just read," said Jenny. "A very moderate allowance," said Theophilus Thoro, "if you consider the Fourth as a great national saturnalia, in which every boy in the land has the privilege of doing whatever is right in his own eyes." "The poor boys!" said Mrs. Crowfield. "All the troubles of the world are laid at their door." "Well," said Jenny, "they did burn the city of Portland, it appears. The fire arose from firecrackers, thrown by boys among the shavings of a carpenter's shop,--so says the paper." "And," said Rudolph, "we surgeons expect a harvest of business from the Fourth, as surely as from a battle. Certain to be woundings, fractures, possibly amputations, following the proceedings of our glorious festival." "Why cannot we Americans learn to amuse ourselves peaceably like other nations?" said Bob Stephens. "In France and Italy, the greatest national festivals pass off without fatal accident, or danger to any one. The fact is, in our country we have not learned _how to be amused_. Amusement has been made of so small account in our philosophy of life, that we are raw and unpracticed in being amused. Our diversions, compared with those of the politer nations of Europe, are coarse and savage,--and consist mainly in making disagreeable noises and disturbing the peace of the community by rude uproar. The only idea an American boy associates with the Fourth of July is that of gunpowder in some form, and a wild liberty to fire off pistols in all miscellaneous directions, and to throw firecrackers under the heels of horses, and into crowds of women and children, for the fun of seeing the stir and commotion thus produced. Now take a young Parisian boy and give him a fête, and he conducts himself with greater gentleness and good breeding, because he is part of a community in which the art of amusement has been refined and perfected, so that he has a thousand resources beyond the very obvious one of making a great banging and disturbance. "Yes," continued Bob Stephens, "the fact is, that our grim old Puritan fathers set their feet down resolutely on all forms of amusement; they would have stopped the lambs from wagging their tails, and shot the birds for singing, if they could have had their way; and in consequence of it, what a barren, cold, flowerless life is our New England existence! Life is all, as Mantalini said, one 'demd horrid grind.' 'Nothing here but working and going to church,' said the German emigrants,--and they were about right. A French traveler, in the year 1837, says that attending the Thursday-evening lectures and church prayer-meetings was the only recreation of the young people of Boston; and we can remember the time when this really was no exaggeration. Think of that, with all the seriousness of our Boston east winds to give it force, and fancy the provision for amusement in our society! The consequence is, that boys who have the longing for amusement strongest within them, and plenty of combativeness to back it, are the standing terror of good society, and our Fourth of July is a day of fear to all invalids and persons of delicate nervous organization, and of real, appreciable danger of life and limb to every one." "Well, Robert," said my wife, "though I agree with you as to the actual state of society in this respect, I must enter my protest against your slur on the memory of our Pilgrim fathers." "Yes," said Theophilus Thoro, "the New Englanders are the only people, I believe, who take delight in vilifying their ancestry. Every young hopeful in our day makes a target of his grandfather's gravestone, and fires away, with great self-applause. People in general seem to like to show that they are well-born, and come of good stock; but the young New Englanders, many of them, appear to take pleasure in insisting that they came of a race of narrow-minded, persecuting bigots. "It is true, that our Puritan fathers saw not everything. They made a state where there were no amusements, but where people could go to bed and leave their house doors wide open all night, without a shadow of fear or danger, as was for years the custom in all our country villages. The fact is, that the simple early New England life, before we began to import foreigners, realized a state of society in whose possibility Europe would scarcely believe. If our fathers had few amusements, they needed few. Life was too really and solidly comfortable and happy to need much amusement. "Look over the countries where people are most sedulously amused by their rulers and governors. Are they not the countries where the people are most oppressed, most unhappy in their circumstances, and therefore in greatest need of amusement? It is the slave who dances and sings, and why? Because he owns nothing, and can own nothing, and may as well dance and forget the fact. But give the slave a farm of his own, a wife of his own, and children of his own, with a schoolhouse and a vote, and ten to one he dances no more. He needs no amusement, because he is happy. "The legislators of Europe wished nothing more than to bring up a people who would be content with amusements, and not ask after their rights or think too closely how they were governed. 'Gild the dome of the Invalides,' was Napoleon's scornful prescription, when he heard the Parisian population were discontented. They gilded it, and the people forgot to talk about anything else. They were a childish race, educated from the cradle on spectacle and show, and by the sight of their eyes could they be governed. The people of Boston, in 1776, could not have been managed in this way, chiefly because they were brought up in the strict schools of the fathers." "But don't you think," said Jenny, "that something might be added and amended in the state of society our fathers established here in New England? Without becoming frivolous, there might be more attention paid to rational amusement." "Certainly," said my wife, "the State and the Church both might take a lesson from the providence of foreign governments, and make liberty, to say the least, as attractive as despotism. It is a very unwise mother that does not provide her children with playthings." "And yet," said Bob, "the only thing that the Church has yet done is to forbid and to frown. We have abundance of tracts against dancing, whist-playing, ninepins, billiards, operas, theatres,--in short, anything that young people would be apt to like. The General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church refused to testify against slavery, because of political diffidence, but made up for it by ordering a more stringent crusade against dancing. The theatre and opera grow up and exist among us like plants on the windy side of a hill, blown all awry by a constant blast of conscientious rebuke. There is really no amusement young people are fond of, which they do not pursue, in a sort of defiance of the frown of the peculiarly religious world. With all the telling of what the young shall _not_ do, there has been very little telling what they shall do. "The whole department of amusements--certainly one of the most important in education--has been by the Church made a sort of outlaws' ground, to be taken possession of and held by all sorts of spiritual ragamuffins; and then the faults and shortcomings resulting from this arrangement have been held up and insisted on as reasons why no Christian should ever venture into it. "If the Church would set herself to amuse her young folks, instead of discussing doctrines and metaphysical hair-splitting, she would prove herself a true mother, and not a hard-visaged stepdame. Let her keep this department, so powerful and so difficult to manage, in what are morally the strongest hands, instead of giving it up to the weakest. "I think, if the different churches of a city, for example, would rent a building where there should be a billiard-table, one or two ninepin-alleys, a reading-room, a garden and grounds for ball playing or innocent lounging, that they would do more to keep their young people from the ways of sin than a Sunday-school could. Nay, more: I would go further. I would have a portion of the building fitted up with scenery and a stage, for the getting up of tableaux or dramatic performances, and thus give scope for the exercise of that histrionic talent of which there is so much lying unemployed in society. "Young people do not like amusements any better for the wickedness connected with them. The spectacle of a sweet little child singing hymns, and repeating prayers, of a pious old Uncle Tom dying for his religion, has filled theatres night after night, and proved that there really is no need of indecent or improper plays to draw full houses. "The things that draw young people to places of amusement are not at first gross things. Take the most notorious public place in Paris,--the Jardin Mabille, for instance,--and the things which give it its first charm are all innocent and artistic. Exquisite beds of lilies, roses, gillyflowers, lighted with jets of gas so artfully as to make every flower translucent as a gem; fountains where the gaslight streams out from behind misty wreaths of falling water and calla-blossoms; sofas of velvet turf, canopied with fragrant honeysuckle; dim bowers overarched with lilacs and roses; a dancing-ground under trees whose branches bend with a fruitage of many-colored lamps; enchanting music and graceful motion; in all these there is not only no sin, but they are really beautiful and desirable; and if they were only used on the side and in the service of virtue and religion, if they were contrived and kept up by the guardians and instructors of youth, instead of by those whose interest it is to demoralize and destroy, young people would have no temptation to stray into the haunts of vice. "In Prussia, under the reign of Frederick William II., when one good, hard-handed man governed the whole country like a strict schoolmaster, the public amusements for the people were made such as to present a model for all states. The theatres were strictly supervised, and actors obliged to conform to the rules of decorum and morality. The plays and performances were under the immediate supervision of men of grave morals, who allowed nothing corrupting to appear; and the effect of this administration and restraint is to be seen in Berlin even to this day. The public gardens are full of charming little resorts, where, every afternoon, for a very moderate sum, one can have either a concert of good music, or a very fair dramatic or operatic performance. Here whole families may be seen enjoying together a wholesome and refreshing entertainment,--the mother and aunts with their knitting, the baby, the children of all ages, and the father,--their faces radiant with that mild German light of contentment and good will which one feels to be characteristic of the nation. When I saw these things, and thought of our own outcast, unprovided boys and young men, haunting the streets and alleys of cities, in places far from the companionship of mothers and sisters, I felt as if it would be better for a nation to be brought up by a good strict schoolmaster king than to try to be a republic." "Yes," said I, "but the difficulty is to get the good schoolmaster king. For one good shepherd, there are twenty who use the sheep only for their flesh and their wool. Republics can do all that kings can,--witness our late army and sanitary commission. Once fix the idea thoroughly in the public mind that there ought to be as regular and careful provision for public amusement as there is for going to church and Sunday-school, and it will be done. Central Park in New York is a beginning in the right direction, and Brooklyn is following the example of her sister city. There is, moreover, an indication of the proper spirit in the increased efforts that are made to beautify Sunday-school rooms, and make them interesting, and to have Sunday-school fêtes and picnics,--the most harmless and commendable way of celebrating the Fourth of July. Why should saloons and bar-rooms be made attractive by fine paintings, choice music, flowers, and fountains, and Sunday-school rooms be four bare walls? There are churches whose broad aisles represent ten and twenty millions of dollars, and whose sons and daughters are daily drawn to circuses, operas, theatres, because they have tastes and feelings, in themselves perfectly laudable and innocent, for the gratification of which no provision is made in any other place." "I know one church," said Rudolph, "whose Sunday-school room is as beautifully adorned as any haunt of sin. There is a fountain in the centre, which plays into a basin surrounded with shells and flowers; it has a small organ to lead the children's voices, and the walls are hung with oil paintings and engravings from the best masters. The festivals of the Sabbath school, which are from time to time held in this place, educate the taste of the children, as well as amuse them; and, above all, they have through life the advantage of associating with their early religious education all those ideas of taste, elegance, and artistic culture which too often come through polluted channels. "When the amusement of the young shall become the care of the experienced and the wise, and the floods of wealth that are now rolling over and over, in silent investments, shall be put into the form of innocent and refined pleasures for the children and youth of the state, our national festivals may become days to be desired, and not dreaded. "On the Fourth of July, our city fathers do in a certain dim wise perceive that the public owes some attempt at amusement to its children, and they vote large sums, principally expended in bell-ringing, cannon, and fireworks. The sidewalks are witness to the number who fall victims to the temptations held out by grog-shops and saloons; and the papers, for weeks after, are crowded with accounts of accidents. Now, a yearly sum expended to keep up, and keep pure, places of amusement which hold out no temptation to vice, but which excel all vicious places in real beauty and attractiveness, would greatly lessen the sum needed to be expended on any one particular day, and would refine and prepare our people to keep holidays and festivals appropriately." "For my part," said Mrs. Crowfield, "I am grieved at the opprobrium which falls on the race of _boys_. Why should the most critical era in the life of those who are to be men, and to govern society, be passed in a sort of outlawry,--a rude warfare with all existing institutions? The years between ten and twenty are full of the nervous excitability which marks the growth and maturing of the manly nature. The boy feels wild impulses, which ought to be vented in legitimate and healthful exercise. He wants to run, shout, wrestle, ride, row, skate; and all these together are often not sufficient to relieve the need he feels of throwing off the excitability that burns within. "For the wants of this period what safe provision is made by the church, or by the state, or any of the boy's lawful educators? In all the Prussian schools amusements are as much a part of the regular school system as grammar or geography. The teacher is with the boys on the playground, and plays as heartily as any of them. The boy has his physical wants anticipated. He is not left to fight his way, blindly stumbling against society, but goes forward in a safe path, which his elders and betters have marked out for him. "In our country, the boy's career is often a series of skirmishes with society. He wants to skate, and contrives ingeniously to dam the course of a brook and flood a meadow which makes a splendid skating-ground. Great is the joy for a season, and great the skating. But the water floods the neighboring cellars. The boys are cursed through all the moods and tenses,--boys are such a plague! The dam is torn down with emphasis and execration. The boys, however, lie in wait some cold night, between twelve and one, and build it up again; and thus goes on the battle. The boys care not whose cellar they flood, because nobody cares for their amusement. They understand themselves to be outlaws, and take an outlaw's advantage. "Again, the boys have their sleds; and sliding down hill is splendid fun. But they trip up some grave citizen, who sprains his shoulder. What is the result? Not the provision of a safe, good place, where boys _may_ slide down hill without danger to any one, but an edict forbidding all sliding, under penalty of fine. "Boys want to swim: it is best they should swim; and if city fathers, foreseeing and caring for this want, should think it worth while to mark off some good place, and have it under such police surveillance as to enforce decency of language and demeanor, they would prevent a great deal that now is disagreeable in the unguided efforts of boys to enjoy this luxury. "It would be cheaper in the end, even if one had to build sliding-piles, as they do in Russia, or to build skating-rinks, as they do in Montreal,--it would be cheaper for every city, town, and village to provide legitimate amusement for boys, under proper superintendence, than to leave them, as they are now left, to fight their way against society. "In the boys' academies of our country, what provision is made for amusement? There are stringent rules, and any number of them, to prevent boys making any noise that may disturb the neighbors; and generally the teacher thinks that, if he keeps the boys _still_, and sees that they get their lessons, his duty is done. But a hundred boys ought not to be kept still. There ought to be noise and motion among them, in order that they may healthily survive the great changes which nature is working within them. If they become silent, averse to movement, fond of indoor lounging and warm rooms, they are going in far worse ways than any amount of outward lawlessness could bring them to. "Smoking and yellow-covered novels are worse than any amount of hullabaloo; and the quietest boy is often a poor, ignorant victim, whose life is being drained out of him before it is well begun. If mothers could only see the series of books that are sold behind counters to boarding-school boys, whom nobody warns and nobody cares for,--if they could see the poison, going from pillow to pillow, in books pretending to make clear the great, sacred mysteries of our nature, but trailing them over with the filth of utter corruption! These horrible works are the inward and secret channel of hell, into which a boy is thrust by the pressure of strict outward rules, forbidding that physical and out-of-door exercise and motion to which he ought rather to be encouraged, and even driven. "It is melancholy to see that, while parents, teachers, and churches make no provision for boys in the way of amusement, the world, the flesh, and the devil are incessantly busy and active in giving it to them. There are ninepin-alleys, with cigars and a bar. There are billiard-saloons, with a bar, and, alas! with the occasional company of girls who are still beautiful, but who have lost the innocence of womanhood, while yet retaining many of its charms. There are theatres, with a bar, and with the society of lost women. The boy comes to one and all of these places, seeking only what is natural and proper he should have,--what should be given him under the eye and by the care of the Church, the school. He comes for exercise and amusement,--he gets these, and a ticket to destruction besides,--and whose fault is it?" "These are the aspects of public life," said I, "which make me feel that we never shall have a perfect state till women vote and bear rule equally with men. State housekeeping has been, hitherto, like what any housekeeping would be, conducted by the voice and knowledge of man alone. "If women had an equal voice in the management of our public money, I have faith to believe that thousands which are now wasted in mere political charlatanism would go to provide for the rearing of the children of the state, male and female. My wife has spoken for the boys; I speak for the girls also. What is provided for their physical development and amusement? Hot, gas-lighted theatric and operatic performances, beginning at eight, and ending at midnight; hot, crowded parties and balls; dancing with dresses tightly laced over the laboring lungs,--these are almost the whole story. I bless the advent of croquet and skating. And yet the latter exercise, pursued as it generally is, is a most terrible exposure. There is no kindly parental provision for the poor, thoughtless, delicate young creature,--not even the shelter of a dressing-room with a fire, at which she may warm her numb fingers and put on her skates when she arrives on the ground, and to which she may retreat in intervals of fatigue; so she catches cold, and perhaps sows the seed which with air-tight stoves and other appliances of hot-house culture may ripen into consumption. "What provision is there for the amusement of all the shop girls, seamstresses, factory girls, that crowd our cities? What for the thousands of young clerks and operatives? Not long since, in a respectable old town in New England, the body of a beautiful girl was drawn from the river in which she had drowned herself,--a young girl only fifteen, who came to the city, far from home and parents, and fell a victim to the temptation which brought her to shame and desperation. Many thus fall every year who are never counted. They fall into the ranks of those whom the world abandons as irreclaimable. "Let those who have homes and every appliance to make life pass agreeably, and who yet yawn over an unoccupied evening, fancy a lively young girl all day cooped up at sewing in a close, ill-ventilated room. Evening comes, and she has three times the desire for amusement and three times the need of it that her fashionable sister has. And where can she go? To the theatre, perhaps, with some young man as thoughtless as herself, and more depraved; then to the bar for a glass of wine, and another; and then, with a head swimming and turning, who shall say where else she may be led? Past midnight and no one to look after her,--and one night ruins her utterly and for life, and she as yet only a child! "John Newton had a very wise saying: 'Here is a man trying to fill a bushel with chaff. Now if I fill it with wheat first, it is better than to fight him.' This apothegm contains in it the whole of what I would say on the subject of amusements." IX DRESS, OR WHO MAKES THE FASHIONS The door of my study being open, I heard in the distant parlor a sort of flutter of silken wings, and chatter of bird-like voices, which told me that a covey of Jenny's pretty young street birds had just alighted there. I could not forbear a peep at the rosy faces that glanced out under pheasants' tails, doves' wings, and nodding humming-birds, and made one or two errands in that direction only that I might gratify my eyes with a look at them. Your nice young girl, of good family and good breeding, is always a pretty object, and, for my part, I regularly lose my heart (in a sort of figurative way) to every fresh, charming creature that trips across my path. All their mysterious rattletraps and whirligigs,--their curls and networks and crimples and rimples and crisping-pins,--their little absurdities, if you will,--have to me a sort of charm, like the tricks and stammerings of a curly-headed child. I should have made a very poor censor if I had been put in Cato's place: the witches would have thrown all my wisdom into some private chip-basket of their own, and walked off with it in triumph. Never a girl bows to me that I do not see in her eye a twinkle of confidence that she could, if she chose, make an old fool of me. I surrender at discretion on first sight. Jenny's friends are nice girls,--the flowers of good, staid, sensible families,--not heathen blossoms nursed in the hot-bed heat of wild, high-flying, fashionable society. They have been duly and truly taught and brought up, by good mothers and painstaking aunties, to understand in their infancy that handsome is that handsome does; that little girls must not be vain of their pretty red shoes and nice curls, and must remember that it is better to be good than to be handsome; with all other wholesome truisms of the kind. They have been to school, and had their minds improved in all modern ways,--have calculated eclipses, and read Virgil, Schiller, and La Fontaine, and understand all about the geological strata, and the different systems of metaphysics,--so that a person reading the list of their acquirements might be a little appalled at the prospect of entering into conversation with them. For all these reasons I listened quite indulgently to the animated conversation that was going on about--Well! What _do_ girls generally talk about, when a knot of them get together? Not, I believe, about the sources of the Nile, or the precession of the equinoxes, or the nature of the human understanding, or Dante, or Shakespeare, or Milton, although they have learned all about them in school; but upon a theme much nearer and dearer,--the one all-pervading feminine topic ever since Eve started the first toilet of fig-leaves; and as I caught now and then a phrase of their chatter, I jotted it down in pure amusement, giving to each charming speaker the name of the bird under whose colors she was sailing. "For my part," said little Humming-Bird, "I'm quite worn out with sewing; the fashions are all _so_ different from what they were last year, that everything has to be made over." "Isn't it dreadful!" said Pheasant. "There's my new mauve silk dress! it was a very expensive silk, and I haven't worn it more than three or four times, and it really looks quite dowdy; and I can't get Patterson to do it over for me for this party. Well, really, I shall have to give up company because I have nothing to wear." "Who _does_ set the fashions, I wonder," said Humming-Bird; "they seem nowadays to whirl faster and faster, till really they don't leave one time for anything." "Yes," said Dove, "I haven't a moment for reading, or drawing, or keeping up my music. The fact is, nowadays, to keep one's self properly dressed is all one can do. If I were _grande dame_ now, and had only to send an order to my milliner and dressmaker, I might be beautifully dressed all the time without giving much thought to it myself; and that is what I should like. But this constant planning about one's toilet, changing your buttons and your fringes and your bonnet-trimmings and your hats every other day, and then being behindhand! It is really too fatiguing." "Well," said Jenny, "I never pretend to keep up. I never expect to be in the front rank of fashion, but no girl wants to be behind every one; nobody wants to have people say, 'Do see what an old-times, rubbishy looking creature _that_ is.' And now, with my small means and my conscience (for I have a conscience in this matter, and don't wish to spend any more time and money than is needed to keep one's self fresh and tasteful), I find my dress quite a fatiguing care." "Well, now, girls," said Humming-Bird, "do you really know, I have sometimes thought I should like to be a nun, just to get rid of all this labor. If I once gave up dress altogether, and knew I was to have nothing but one plain robe tied round my waist with a cord, it does seem to me as if it would be a perfect repose,--only one is a Protestant, you know." Now, as Humming-Bird was the most notoriously dressy individual in the little circle, this suggestion was received with quite a laugh. But Dove took it up. "Well, really," she said, "when dear Mr. S---- preaches those saintly sermons to us about our baptismal vows, and the nobleness of an unworldly life, and calls on us to live for something purer and higher than we are living for, I confess that sometimes all my life seems to me a mere sham,--that I am going to church, and saying solemn words, and being wrought up by solemn music, and uttering most solemn vows and prayers, all to no purpose; and then I come away and look at my life, all resolving itself into a fritter about dress, and sewing-silk, cord, braid, and buttons,--the next fashion of bonnets,--how to make my old dresses answer instead of new,--how to keep the air of the world, while in my heart I am cherishing something higher and better. If there's anything I detest it is hypocrisy; and sometimes the life I lead looks like it. But how to get out of it?--what to do?--" "I'm sure," said Humming-Bird, "that taking care of my clothes and going into company is, frankly, all I do. If I go to parties, as other girls do, and make calls, and keep dressed,--you know papa is not rich, and one must do these things economically,--it really does take all the time I have. When I was confirmed the Bishop talked to us so sweetly, and I really meant sincerely to be a good girl,--to be as good as I knew how; but now, when they talk about fighting the good fight and running the Christian race, I feel very mean and little, for I am quite sure this isn't doing it. But what is,--and who is?" "Aunt Betsey Titcomb is doing it, I suppose," said Pheasant. "Aunt Betsey!" said Humming-Bird, "well, she is. She spends all her money in doing good. She goes round visiting the poor all the time. She is a perfect saint;--but oh girls, how she looks! Well, now, I confess, when I think I must look like Aunt Betsey, my courage gives out. Is it necessary to go without hoops, and look like a dipped candle, in order to be unworldly? Must one wear such a fright of a bonnet?" "No," said Jenny, "I think not. I think Miss Betsey Titcomb, good as she is, injures the cause of goodness by making it outwardly repulsive. I really think, if she would take some pains with her dress, and spend upon her own wardrobe a little of the money she gives away, that she might have influence in leading others to higher aims; now all her influence is against it. Her _outré_ and repulsive exterior arrays our natural and innocent feelings against goodness; for surely it is natural and innocent to wish to look well, and I am really afraid a great many of us are more afraid of being thought ridiculous than of being wicked." "And after all," said Pheasant, "you know Mr. St. Clair says, 'Dress is one of the fine arts,' and if it is, why of course we ought to cultivate it. Certainly, well-dressed men and women are more agreeable objects than rude and unkempt ones. There must be somebody whose mission it is to preside over the agreeable arts of life; and I suppose it falls to 'us girls.' That's the way I comfort myself, at all events. Then I must confess that I do like dress; I'm not cultivated enough to be a painter or a poet, and I have all my artistic nature, such as it is, in dress. I love harmonies of color, exact shades and matches; I love to see a uniform idea carried all through a woman's toilet,--her dress, her bonnet, her gloves, her shoes, her pocket-handkerchief and cuffs, her very parasol, all in correspondence." "But, my dear," said Jenny, "anything of this kind must take a fortune!" "And if I had a fortune, I'm pretty sure I should spend a good deal of it in this way," said Pheasant. "I can imagine such completeness of toilet as I have never seen. How I would like the means to show what I could do! My life, now, is perpetual disquiet. I always feel shabby. My things must all be bought at haphazard, as they can be got out of my poor little allowance,--and things are getting so horridly dear! Only think of it, girls! gloves at two and a quarter! and boots at seven, eight, and ten dollars! and then, as you say, the fashions changing so! Why, I bought a sack last fall and gave forty dollars for it, and this winter I'm wearing it, to be sure, but it has no style at all,--looks quite antiquated!" "Now I say," said Jenny, "that you are really morbid on the subject of dress; you are fastidious and particular and exacting in your ideas in a way that really ought to be put down. There is not a girl of our set that dresses as nicely as you do, except Emma Seyton, and her father, you know, has no end of income." "Nonsense, Jenny," said Pheasant. "I think I really look like a beggar; but then, I bear it as well as I can, because, you see, I know papa does all for us he can, and I won't be extravagant. But I do think, as Humming-Bird says, that it would be a great relief to give it up altogether and retire from the world; or, as Cousin John says, climb a tree and pull it up after you, and so be in peace." "Well," said Jenny, "all this seems to have come on since the war. It seems to me that not only has everything doubled in price, but all the habits of the world seem to require that you shall have double the quantity of everything. Two or three years ago a good balmoral skirt was a fixed fact; it was a convenient thing for sloppy, unpleasant weather. But now, dear me! there is no end to them. They cost fifteen and twenty dollars; and girls that I know have one or two every season, besides all sorts of quilled and embroidered and ruffled and tucked and flounced ones. Then, in dressing one's hair, what a perfect overflow there is of all manner of waterfalls, and braids, and rats, and mice, and curls, and combs; when three or four years ago we combed our own hair innocently behind our ears, and put flowers in it, and thought we looked nicely at our evening parties! I don't believe we look any better now, when we are dressed, than we did then,--so what's the use?" "Well, did you ever see such a tyranny as this of fashion?" said Humming-Bird. "We know it's silly, but we all bow down before it; we are afraid of our lives before it; and who makes all this and sets it going? The Paris milliners, the Empress, or who?" "The question where fashions come from is like the question where pins go to," said Pheasant. "Think of the thousands and millions of pins that are being used every year, and not one of them worn out. Where do they all go to? One would expect to find a pin mine somewhere." "Victor Hugo says they go into the sewers in Paris," said Jenny. "And the fashions come from a source about as pure," said I, from the next room. "Bless me, Jenny, do tell us if your father has been listening to us all this time!" was the next exclamation; and forthwith there was a whir and rustle of the silken wings, as the whole troop fluttered into my study. "Now, Mr. Crowfield, you are too bad!" said Humming-Bird, as she perched upon a corner of my study-table, and put her little feet upon an old "Froissart" which filled the armchair. "To be listening to our nonsense!" said Pheasant. "Lying in wait for us!" said Dove. "Well, now, you have brought us all down on you," said Humming-Bird, "and you won't find it so easy to be rid of us. You will have to answer all our questions." "My dears, I am at your service, as far as mortal man may be," said I. "Well, then," said Humming-Bird, "tell us all about everything,--how things come to be as they are. Who makes the fashions?" "I believe it is universally admitted that, in the matter of feminine toilet, France rules the world," said I. "But who rules France?" said Pheasant. "Who decides what the fashions shall be there?" "It is the great misfortune of the civilized world, at the present hour," said I, "that the state of morals in France is apparently at the very lowest ebb, and consequently the leadership of fashion is entirely in the hands of a class of women who could not be admitted into good society, in any country. Women who can never have the name of wife,--who know none of the ties of family,--these are the dictators whose dress and equipage and appointments give the law, first to France, and through France to the civilized world. Such was the confession of Monsieur Dupin, made in a late speech before the French Senate, and acknowledged, with murmurs of assent on all sides, to be the truth. This is the reason why the fashions have such an utter disregard of all those laws of prudence and economy which regulate the expenditures of families. They are made by women whose sole and only hold on life is personal attractiveness, and with whom to keep this up, at any cost, is a desperate necessity. No moral quality, no association of purity, truth, modesty, self-denial, or family love, comes in to hallow the atmosphere about them, and create a sphere of loveliness which brightens as mere physical beauty fades. The ravages of time and dissipation must be made up by an unceasing study of the arts of the toilet. Artists of all sorts, moving in their train, rack all the stores of ancient and modern art for the picturesque, the dazzling, the grotesque; and so, lest these Circes of society should carry all before them, and enchant every husband, brother, and lover, the staid and lawful Penelopes leave the hearth and home to follow in their triumphal march and imitate their arts. Thus it goes in France; and in England, virtuous and domestic princesses and peeresses must take obediently what has been decreed by their rulers in the _demi-monde_ of France; and we in America have leaders of fashion, who make it their pride and glory to turn New York into Paris, and to keep even step with everything that is going on there. So the whole world of womankind is marching under the command of those leaders. The love of dress and glitter and fashion is getting to be a morbid, unhealthy epidemic, which really eats away the nobleness and purity of women. "In France, as Monsieur Dupin, Edmond About, and Michelet tell us, the extravagant demands of love for dress lead women to contract debts unknown to their husbands, and sign obligations which are paid by the sacrifice of honor, and thus the purity of the family is continually undermined. In England there is a voice of complaint, sounding from the leading periodicals, that the extravagant demands of female fashion are bringing distress into families, and making marriages impossible; and something of the same sort seems to have begun here. We are across the Atlantic, to be sure; but we feel the swirl and drift of the great whirlpool; only, fortunately, we are far enough off to be able to see whither things are tending, and to stop ourselves if we will. "We have just come through a great struggle, in which our women have borne an heroic part,--have shown themselves capable of any kind of endurance and self-sacrifice; and now we are in that reconstructive state which makes it of the greatest consequence to ourselves and the world that we understand our own institutions and position, and learn that, instead of following the corrupt and worn-out ways of the Old World, we are called on to set the example of a new state of society,--noble, simple, pure, and religious; and women can do more towards this even than men, for women are the real architects of society. "Viewed in this light, even the small, frittering cares of women's life--the attention to buttons, trimmings, thread, and sewing-silk--may be an expression of their patriotism and their religion. A noble-hearted woman puts a noble meaning into even the commonplace details of life. The women of America can, if they choose, hold back their country from following in the wake of old, corrupt, worn-out, effeminate European society, and make America the leader of the world in all that is good." "I'm sure," said Humming-Bird, "we all would like to be noble and heroic. During the war, I did so long to be a man! I felt so poor and insignificant because I was nothing but a girl!" "Ah, well," said Pheasant, "but then one wants to do something worth doing, if one is going to do anything. One would like to be grand and heroic, if one could; but if not, why try at all? One wants to be _very_ something, _very_ great, _very_ heroic; or if not that, then at least very stylish and very fashionable. It is this everlasting mediocrity that bores me." "Then, I suppose, you agree with the man we read of, who buried his one talent in the earth, as hardly worth caring for." "To say the truth, I always had something of a sympathy for that man," said Pheasant. "I can't enjoy goodness and heroism in homoeopathic doses. I want something appreciable. What I can do, being a woman, is a very different thing from what I should try to do if I were a man, and had a man's chances: it is so much less--so poor--that it is scarcely worth trying for." "You remember," said I, "the apothegm of one of the old divines, that if two angels were sent down from heaven, the one to govern a kingdom, and the other to sweep a street, they would not feel any disposition to change works." "Well, that just shows that they are angels, and not mortals," said Pheasant; "but we poor human beings see things differently." "Yet, my child, what could Grant or Sherman have done, if it had not been for the thousands of brave privates who were content to do each their imperceptible little,--if it had not been for the poor, unnoticed, faithful, never-failing common soldiers, who did the work and bore the suffering? No _one_ man saved our country, or could save it; nor could the men have saved it without the women. Every mother that said to her son, Go; every wife that strengthened the hands of her husband; every girl who sent courageous letters to her betrothed; every woman who worked for a fair; every grandam whose trembling hands knit stockings and scraped lint; every little maiden who hemmed shirts and made comfort-bags for soldiers,--each and all have been the joint doers of a great heroic work, the doing of which has been the regeneration of our era. A whole generation has learned the luxury of thinking heroic thoughts and being conversant with heroic deeds, and I have faith to believe that all this is not to go out in a mere crush of fashionable luxury and folly and frivolous emptiness,--but that our girls are going to merit the high praise given us by De Tocqueville, when he placed first among the causes of our prosperity the _noble character of American women_. Because foolish female persons in New York are striving to outdo the _demi-monde_ of Paris in extravagance, it must not follow that every sensible and patriotic matron, and every nice, modest young girl, must forthwith and without inquiry rush as far after them as they possibly can. Because Mrs. Shoddy opens a ball in a two-thousand-dollar lace dress, every girl in the land need not look with shame on her modest white muslin. Somewhere between the fast women of Paris and the daughters of Christian American families there should be established a _cordon sanitaire_, to keep out the contagion of manners, customs, and habits with which a noble-minded, religious democratic people ought to have nothing to do." "Well now, Mr. Crowfield," said the Dove, "since you speak us so fair, and expect so much of us, we must of course try not to fall below your compliments; but, after all, tell us what is the right standard about dress. Now we have daily lectures about this at home. Aunt Maria says that she never saw such times as these, when mothers and daughters, church-members and worldly people, all seem to be going one way, and sit down together and talk, as they will, on dress and fashion,--how to have this made and that altered. We used to be taught, she said, that church-members had higher things to think of,--that their thoughts ought to be fixed on something better, and that they ought to restrain the vanity and worldliness of children and young people; but now, she says, even before a girl is born, dress is the one thing needful,--the great thing to be thought of; and so, in every step of the way upward, her little shoes, and her little bonnets, and her little dresses, and her corals and her ribbons, are constantly being discussed in her presence, as the one all-important object of life. Aunt Maria thinks mamma is dreadful, because she has maternal yearnings over our toilet successes and fortunes; and we secretly think Aunt Maria is rather soured by old age, and has forgotten how a girl feels." "The fact is," said I, "that the love of dress and outside show has been always such an exacting and absorbing tendency, that it seems to have furnished work for religionists and economists, in all ages, to keep it within bounds. Various religious bodies, at the outset, adopted severe rules in protest against it. The Quakers and the Methodists prescribed certain fixed modes of costume as a barrier against its frivolities and follies. In the Romish Church an entrance on any religious order prescribed entire and total renunciation of all thought and care for the beautiful in person or apparel, as the first step towards saintship. The costume of the _religieuse_ seemed to be purposely intended to imitate the shroudings and swathings of a corpse and the lugubrious color of a pall, so as forever to remind the wearer that she was dead to the world of ornament and physical beauty. All great Christian preachers and reformers have leveled their artillery against the toilet, from the time of St. Jerome downward; and Tom Moore has put into beautiful and graceful verse St. Jerome's admonitions to the fair churchgoers of his time. WHO IS THE MAID? ST. JEROME'S LOVE. Who is the maid my spirit seeks, Through cold reproof and slander's blight? Has _she_ Love's roses on her cheeks? Is _hers_ an eye of this world's light? No: wan and sunk with midnight prayer Are the pale looks of her I love; Or if, at times, a light be there, Its beam is kindled from above. I chose not her, my heart's elect, From those who seek their Maker's shrine In gems and garlands proudly decked, As if themselves were things divine. No: Heaven but faintly warms the breast That beats beneath a broidered veil; And she who comes in glittering vest To mourn her frailty, still is frail. Not so the faded form I prize And love, because its bloom is gone; The glory in those sainted eyes Is all the grace _her_ brow puts on. And ne'er was Beauty's dawn so bright, So touching, as that form's decay, Which, like the altar's trembling light, In holy lustre wastes away. "But the defect of all these modes of warfare on the elegances and refinements of the toilet was that they were too indiscriminate. They were in reality founded on a false principle. They took for granted that there was something radically corrupt and wicked in the body and in the physical system. According to this mode of viewing things, the body was a loathsome and pestilent prison, in which the soul was locked up and enslaved, and the eyes, the ears, the taste, the smell, were all so many corrupt traitors in conspiracy to poison her. Physical beauty of every sort was a snare, a Circean enchantment, to be valiantly contended with and straitly eschewed. Hence they preached, not moderation, but total abstinence from all pursuit of physical grace and beauty. "Now, a resistance founded on an over-statement is constantly tending to reaction. People always have a tendency to begin thinking for themselves; and when they so think, they perceive that a good and wise God would not have framed our bodies with such exquisite care only to corrupt our souls,--that physical beauty, being created in such profuse abundance around us, and we being possessed with such a longing for it, must have its uses, its legitimate sphere of exercise. Even the poor, shrouded nun, as she walks the convent garden, cannot help asking herself why, if the crimson velvet of the rose was made by God, all colors except black and white are sinful for her; and the modest Quaker, after hanging all her house and dressing all her children in drab, cannot but marvel at the sudden outstreaking of blue and yellow and crimson in the tulip-beds under her window, and reflect how very differently the great All-Father arrays the world's housekeeping. The consequence of all this has been, that the reforms based upon these severe and exclusive views have gradually gone backward. The Quaker dress is imperceptibly and gracefully melting away into a refined simplicity of modern costume, which in many cases seems to be the perfection of taste. The obvious reflection, that one color of the rainbow is quite as much of God as another, has led the children of gentle dove-colored mothers to appear in shades of rose-color, blue, and lilac; and wise elders have said, it is not so much the color or the shape that we object to, as giving too much time and too much money,--if the heart be right with God and man, the bonnet ribbon may be of any shade you please." "But don't you think," said Pheasant, "that a certain fixed dress, marking the unworldly character of a religious order, is desirable? Now, I have said before that I am very fond of dress. I have a passion for beauty and completeness in it; and as long as I am in the world and obliged to dress as the world does, it constantly haunts me, and tempts me to give more time, more thought, more money, to these things than I really think they are worth. But I can conceive of giving up this thing altogether as being much easier than regulating it to the precise point. I never read of a nun's taking the veil without a certain thrill of sympathy. To cut off one's hair, to take off and cast from her, one by one, all one's trinkets and jewels, to lie down and have the pall thrown over one, and feel one's self once for all dead to the world,--I cannot help feeling as if this were real, thorough, noble renunciation, and as if one might rise up from it with a grand, calm consciousness of having risen to a higher and purer atmosphere, and got above all the littlenesses and distractions that beset us here. So I have heard charming young Quaker girls, who in more thoughtless days indulged in what for them was a slight shading of worldly conformity, say that it was to them a blessed rest when they put on the strict, plain dress, and felt that they really had taken up the cross and turned their backs on the world. I can conceive of doing this, much more easily than I can of striking the exact line between worldly conformity and noble aspiration, in the life I live now." "My dear child," said I, "we all overlook one great leading principle of our nature, and that is, that we are made to find a higher pleasure in self-sacrifice than in any form of self-indulgence. There is something grand and pathetic in the idea of an entire self-surrender, to which every human soul leaps up, as we do to the sound of martial music. "How many boys of Boston and New York, who had lived effeminate and idle lives, felt this new power uprising in them in our war! How they embraced the dirt and discomfort and fatigue and watchings and toils of camp-life with an eagerness of zest which they had never felt in the pursuit of mere pleasure, and wrote home burning letters that they never were so happy in their lives! It was not that dirt and fatigue and discomfort and watchings and weariness were in themselves agreeable, but it was a joy to feel themselves able to bear all and surrender all for something higher than self. Many a poor Battery bully of New York, many a street rowdy, felt uplifted by the discovery that he too had hid away under the dirt and dust of his former life this divine and precious jewel. He leaped for joy to find that he too could be a hero. Think of the hundreds of thousands of plain ordinary workingmen, and of seemingly ordinary boys, who, but for such a crisis, might have passed through life never knowing this to be in them, and who courageously endured hunger and thirst and cold, and separation from dearest friends, for days and weeks and months, when they might, at any day, have bought a respite by deserting their country's flag! Starving boys, sick at heart, dizzy in head, pining for home and mother, still found warmth and comfort in the one thought that they could suffer, die, for their country; and the graves at Salisbury and Andersonville show in how many souls this noble power of self-sacrifice to the higher good was lodged,--how many there were, even in the humblest walks of life, who preferred death by torture to life in dishonor. "It is this heroic element in man and woman that makes self-sacrifice an ennobling and purifying ordeal in any religious profession. The man really is taken into a higher region of his own nature, and finds a pleasure in the exercise of higher faculties which he did not suppose himself to possess. Whatever sacrifice is supposed to be duty, whether the supposition be really correct or not, has in it an ennobling and purifying power; and thus the eras of conversion from one form of the Christian religion to another are often marked with a real and permanent exaltation of the whole character. But it does not follow that certain religious beliefs and ordinances are in themselves just, because they thus touch the great heroic master-chord of the human soul. To wear sackcloth and sleep on a plank may have been of use to many souls, as symbolizing the awakening of this higher nature; but, still, the religion of the New Testament is plainly one which calls to no such outward and evident sacrifices. "It was John the Baptist, and not the Messiah, who dwelt in the wilderness and wore garments of camel's hair; and Jesus was commented on, not for his asceticism, but for his cheerful, social acceptance of the average innocent wants and enjoyments of humanity. 'The Son of man came eating and drinking.' The great, and never ceasing, and utter self-sacrifice of his life was not signified by any peculiarity of costume, or language, or manner; it showed itself only as it unconsciously welled up in all his words and actions, in his estimates of life, in all that marked him out as a being of a higher and holier sphere." "Then you do not believe in influencing this subject of dress by religious persons' adopting any particular laws of costume?" said Pheasant. "I do not see it to be possible," said I, "considering how society is made up. There are such differences of taste and character,--people move in such different spheres, are influenced by such different circumstances,--that all we can do is to lay down certain great principles, and leave it to every one to apply them according to individual needs." "But what are these principles? There is the grand inquiry." "Well," said I, "let us feel our way. In the first place, then, we are all agreed in one starting-point,--that beauty is not to be considered as a bad thing,--that the love of ornament in our outward and physical life is not a sinful or a dangerous feeling, and only leads to evil, as all other innocent things do, by being used in wrong ways. So far we are all agreed, are we not?" "Certainly," said all the voices. "It is, therefore, neither wicked nor silly nor weak-minded to like beautiful dress, and all that goes to make it up. Jewelry, diamonds, pearls, emeralds, rubies, and all sorts of pretty things that are made of them, are as lawful and innocent objects of admiration and desire, as flowers or birds or butterflies, or the tints of evening skies. Gems, in fact, are a species of mineral flower; they are the blossoms of the dark, hard mine; and what they want in perfume they make up in durability. The best Christian in the world may, without the least inconsistency, admire them, and say, as a charming, benevolent old Quaker lady once said to me, 'I do so love to look at beautiful jewelry!' The love of beautiful dress, in itself, therefore, so far from being in a bad sense worldly, may be the same indication of a refined and poetical nature that is given by the love of flowers and of natural objects. "In the third place, there is nothing in itself wrong, or unworthy a rational being, in a certain degree of attention to the fashion of society in our costume. It is not wrong to be annoyed at unnecessary departures from the commonly received practices of good society in the matter of the arrangement of our toilet; and it would indicate rather an unamiable want of sympathy with our fellow beings, if we were not willing, for the most part, to follow what they indicate to be agreeable in the disposition of our outward affairs." "Well, I must say, Mr. Crowfield, you are allowing us all a very generous margin," said Humming-Bird. "But now," said I, "I am coming to the restrictions. When is love of dress excessive and wrong? To this I answer by stating my faith in one of old Plato's ideas, in which he speaks of beauty and its uses. He says there were two impersonations of beauty worshiped under the name of Venus in the ancient times,--the one celestial, born of the highest gods, the other earthly. To the earthly Venus the sacrifices were such as were more trivial; to the celestial, such as were more holy. 'The worship of the earthly Venus,' he says, 'sends us oftentimes on unworthy and trivial errands, but the worship of the celestial to high and honorable friendships, to noble aspirations and heroic actions.' "Now it seems to me that, if we bear in mind this truth in regard to beauty, we shall have a test with which to try ourselves in the matter of physical adornment. We are always excessive when we sacrifice the higher beauty to attain the lower one. A woman who will sacrifice domestic affection, conscience, self-respect, honor, to love of dress, we all agree, loves dress too much. She loses the true and higher beauty of womanhood for the lower beauty of gems and flowers and colors. A girl who sacrifices to dress all her time, all her strength, all her money, to the neglect of the cultivation of her mind and heart, and to the neglect of the claims of others on her helpfulness, is sacrificing the higher to the lower beauty; her fault is not the love of beauty, but loving the wrong and inferior kind. "It is remarkable that the directions of Holy Writ, in regard to the female dress, should distinctly take note of this difference between the higher and the lower beauty which we find in the works of Plato. The Apostle gives no rule, no specific costume, which should mark the Christian woman from the Pagan; but says, 'whose adorning, let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.' The gold and gems and apparel are not forbidden; but we are told not to depend on them for beauty, to the neglect of those imperishable, immortal graces that belong to the soul. The makers of fashion among whom Christian women lived when the Apostle wrote were the same class of brilliant and worthless Aspasias who make the fashions of modern Paris; and all womankind was sunk into slavish adoration of more physical adornment when the gospel sent forth among them this call to the culture of a higher and immortal beauty. "In fine, girls," said I, "you may try yourselves by this standard. You love dress too much when you care more for your outward adornings than for your inward dispositions, when it afflicts you more to have torn your dress than to have lost your temper, when you are more troubled by an ill-fitting gown than by a neglected duty,--when you are less concerned at having made an unjust comment, or spread a scandalous report, than at having worn a passé bonnet, when you are less troubled at the thought of being found at the last great feast without the wedding garment, than at being found at the party to-night in the fashion of last year. No Christian woman, as I view it, ought to give such attention to her dress as to allow it to take up _all_ of three very important things, viz:-- _All_ her time. _All_ her strength. _All_ her money. Whoever does this lives not the Christian, but the Pagan life,--worships not at the Christian's altar of our Lord Jesus, but at the shrine of the lower Venus of Corinth and Rome." "Oh now, Mr. Crowfield, you frighten me," said Humming-Bird. "I'm so afraid, do you know, that I am doing exactly that." "And so am I," said Pheasant; "and yet, certainly, it is not what I mean or intend to do." "But how to help it," said Dove. "My dears," said I, "where there is a will there is a way. Only resolve that you will put the true beauty first,--that, even if you do have to seem unfashionable, you will follow the highest beauty of womanhood,--and the battle is half gained. Only resolve that your time, your strength, your money, such as you have, shall not all--nor more than half--be given to mere outward adornment, and you will go right. It requires only an army of girls animated with this noble purpose to declare independence in America, and emancipate us from the decrees and tyrannies of French actresses and ballet-dancers. _En avant_, girls! You yet can, if you will, save the republic." X WHAT ARE THE SOURCES OF BEAUTY IN DRESS The conversation on dress which I had held with Jenny and her little covey of Birds of Paradise appeared to have worked in the minds of the fair council, for it was not long before they invaded my study again in a body. They were going out to a party, but called for Jenny, and of course gave me and Mrs. Crowfield the privilege of seeing them equipped for conquest. Latterly, I must confess, the mysteries of the toilet rites have impressed me with a kind of superstitious awe. Only a year ago my daughter Jenny had smooth dark hair, which she wreathed in various soft, flowing lines about her face, and confined in a classical knot on the back of her head. Jenny had rather a talent for coiffure, and the arrangement of her hair was one of my little artistic delights. She always had something there,--a leaf, a spray, a bud or blossom, that looked fresh, and had a sort of poetical grace of its own. But in a gradual way all this has been changing. Jenny's hair first became slightly wavy, then curly, finally frizzly, presenting a tumbled and twisted appearance, which gave me great inward concern; but when I spoke upon the subject I was always laughingly silenced with the definitive settling remark: "Oh, it's the fashion, papa! Everybody wears it so." I particularly objected to the change on my own small account, because the smooth, breakfast-table coiffure, which I had always so much enjoyed, was now often exchanged for a peculiarly bristling appearance; the hair being variously twisted, tortured, woven, and wound, without the least view to immediate beauty or grace. But all this, I was informed, was the necessary means towards crimping for some evening display of a more elaborate nature than usual. Mrs. Crowfield and myself are not party-goers by profession, but Jenny insists on our going out at least once or twice in a season, just, as she says, to keep up with the progress of society; and at these times I have been struck with frequent surprise by the general untidiness which appeared to have come over the heads of all my female friends. I know, of course, that I am only a poor, ignorant, bewildered man creature; but to my uninitiated eyes they looked as if they had all, after a very restless and perturbed sleep, come out of bed without smoothing their tumbled and disordered locks. Then, every young lady, without exception, seemed to have one kind of hair, and that the kind which was rather suggestive of the term "woolly." Every sort of wild abandon of frowzy locks seemed to be in vogue; in some cases the hair appearing to my vision nothing but a confused snarl, in which glittered tinklers, spangles, and bits of tinsel, and from which waved long pennants and streamers of different colored ribbons. I was in fact very greatly embarrassed by my first meeting with some very charming girls, whom I thought I knew as familiarly as my own daughter Jenny, and whose soft, pretty hair had often formed the object of my admiration. Now, however, they revealed themselves to me in coiffures which forcibly reminded me of the electrical experiments which used to entertain us in college, when the subject stood on the insulated stool, and each particular hair of his head bristled and rose, and set up, as it were, on its own account. This high-flying condition of the tresses, and the singularity of the ornaments which appeared to be thrown at haphazard into them, suggested so oddly the idea of a bewitched person, that I could scarcely converse with any presence of mind, or realize that these really were the nice, well-informed, sensible little girls of my own neighborhood,--the good daughters, good sisters, Sunday-school teachers, and other familiar members of our best educated circles; and I came away from the party in a sort of blue maze, and hardly in a state to conduct myself with credit in the examination through which I knew Jenny would put me as to the appearance of her different friends. I know not how it is, but the glamour of fashion in the eyes of girlhood is so complete that the oddest, wildest, most uncouth devices find grace and favor in the eyes of even well-bred girls, when once that invisible, ineffable aura has breathed over them which declares them to be fashionable. They may defy them for a time,--they may pronounce them horrid; but it is with a secretly melting heart, and with a mental reservation to look as nearly like the abhorred spectacle as they possibly can on the first favorable opportunity. On the occasion of the visit referred to, Jenny ushered her three friends in triumph into my study; and, in truth, the little room seemed to be perfectly transformed by their brightness. My honest, nice, lovable little Yankee fireside girls were, to be sure, got up in a style that would have done credit to Madame Pompadour, or any of the most questionable characters of the time of Louis XIV. or XV. They were frizzled and powdered, and built up in elaborate devices; they wore on their hair flowers, gems, streamers, tinklers, humming-birds, butterflies, South American beetles, beads, bugles, and all imaginable rattletraps, which jingled and clinked with every motion; and yet, as they were three or four fresh, handsome, intelligent, bright-eyed girls, there was no denying the fact that they did look extremely pretty; and as they sailed hither and thither before me, and gazed down upon me in the saucy might of their rosy girlhood, there was a gay defiance in Jenny's demand, "Now, papa, how do you like us?" "Very charming," answered I, surrendering at discretion. "I told you, girls, that you could convert him to the fashions, if he should once see you in party trim." "I beg pardon, my dear; I am not converted to the fashion, but to you, and that is a point on which I didn't need conversion; but the present fashions, even so fairly represented as I see them, I humbly confess I dislike." "Oh, Mr. Crowfield!" "Yes, my dears, I do. But then, I protest, I'm not fairly treated. I think, for a young American girl, who looks as most of my fair friends do look, to come down with her bright eyes and all her little panoply of graces upon an old fellow like me, and expect him to like a fashion merely because _she_ looks well in it, is all sheer nonsense. Why, girls, if you wore rings in your noses, and bangles on your arms up to your elbows, if you tied your hair in a war-knot on the top of your heads like the Sioux Indians, you would still look pretty. The question isn't, as I view it, whether you look pretty,--for that you do, and that you will, do what you please and dress how you will. The question is whether you might not look prettier, whether another style of dress, and another mode of getting up, would not be far more becoming. I am one who thinks that it would." "Now, Mr. Crowfield, you positively are too bad," said Humming-Bird, whose delicate head was encircled by a sort of crêpy cloud of bright hair, sparkling with gold-dust and spangles, in the midst of which, just over her forehead, a gorgeous blue butterfly was perched, while a confused mixture of hairs, gold-powder, spangles, stars, and tinkling ornaments fell in a sort of cataract down her pretty neck. "You see, we girls think everything of you; and now we don't like it that you don't like our fashions." "Why, my little princess, so long as I like _you_ better than your fashions, and merely think they are not worthy of you, what's the harm?" "Oh yes, to be sure. You sweeten the dose to us babies with that sugarplum. But really, Mr. Crowfield, why don't you like the fashions?" "Because, to my view, they are in great part in false taste, and injure the beauty of the girls," said I. "They are inappropriate to their characters, and make them look like a kind and class of women whom they do not, and I trust never will, resemble internally, and whose mark therefore they ought not to bear externally. But there you are, beguiling me into a sermon which you will only hate me in your hearts for preaching. Go along, children! You certainly look as well as anybody can in that style of getting up; so go to your party, and to-morrow night, when you are tired and sleepy, if you'll come with your crochet, and sit in my study, I will read you Christopher Crowfield's dissertation on dress." "That will be amusing, to say the least," said Humming-Bird; "and, be sure, we will all be here. And mind, you have to show good reasons for disliking the present fashion." So the next evening there was a worsted party in my study, sitting in the midst of which I read as follows:-- WHAT ARE THE SOURCES OF BEAUTY IN DRESS "The first one is _appropriateness_. Colors and forms and modes, in themselves graceful or beautiful, can become ungraceful and ridiculous simply through inappropriateness. The most lovely bonnet that the most approved modiste can invent, if worn on the head of a coarse-faced Irishwoman bearing a market-basket on her arm, excites no emotion but that of the ludicrous. The most elegant and brilliant evening dress, if worn in the daytime in a railroad car, strikes every one with a sense of absurdity; whereas both these objects in appropriate associations would excite only the idea of beauty. So a mode of dress obviously intended for driving strikes us as _outré_ in a parlor; and a parlor dress would no less shock our eyes on horseback. In short, the course of this principle through all varieties of form can easily be perceived. Besides appropriateness to time, place, and circumstances, there is appropriateness to age, position, and character. This is the foundation of all our ideas of professional propriety in costume. One would not like to see a clergyman in his external air and appointments resembling a gentleman of the turf; one would not wish a refined and modest scholar to wear the outward air of a fast fellow, or an aged and venerable statesman to appear with all the peculiarities of a young dandy. The flowers, feathers, and furbelows which a light-hearted young girl of seventeen embellishes by the airy grace with which she wears them, are simply ridiculous when transferred to the toilet of her serious, well-meaning mamma, who bears them about with an anxious face, merely because a loquacious milliner has assured her, with many protestations, that it is the fashion, and the only thing remaining for her to do. "There are, again, modes of dress in themselves very beautiful and very striking, which are peculiarly adapted to theatrical representation and to pictures, but the adoption of which as a part of unprofessional toilet produces a sense of incongruity. A mode of dress maybe in perfect taste on the stage, that would be absurd in an evening party, absurd in the street, absurd, in short, everywhere else. "Now you come to my first objection to our present American toilet,--its being to a very great extent _inappropriate_ to our climate, to our habits of life and thought, and to the whole structure of ideas on which our life is built. What we want, apparently, is some court of inquiry and adaptation that shall pass judgment on the fashions of other countries, and modify them to make them a graceful expression of our own national character, and modes of thinking and living. A certain class of women in Paris at this present hour makes the fashions that rule the feminine world. They are women who live only for the senses, with as utter and obvious disregard of any moral or intellectual purpose to be answered in living as a paroquet or a macaw. They have no family ties; love, in its pure domestic sense, is an impossibility in their lot; religion in any sense is another impossibility; and their whole intensity of existence, therefore, is concentrated on the question of sensuous enjoyment, and that personal adornment which is necessary to secure it. When the great ruling country in the world of taste and fashion has fallen into such a state that the virtual leaders of fashion are women of this character, it is not to be supposed that the fashions emanating from them will be of a kind well adapted to express the ideas, the thoughts, the state of society, of a great Christian democracy such as ours ought to be. "What is called, for example, the Pompadour style of dress, so much in vogue of late, we can see to be perfectly adapted to the kind of existence led by dissipated women whose life is one revel of excitement; and who, never proposing to themselves any intellectual employment or any domestic duty, can afford to spend three or four hours every day under the hands of a waiting-maid, in alternately tangling and untangling their hair. Powder, paint, gold-dust and silver-dust, pomatums, cosmetics, are all perfectly appropriate where the ideal of life is to keep up a false show of beauty after the true bloom is wasted by dissipation. The woman who never goes to bed till morning, who never even dresses herself, who never takes a needle in her hand, who never goes to church, and never entertains one serious idea of duty of any kind, when got up in Pompadour style, has, to say the truth, the good taste and merit of appropriateness. Her dress expresses just what she is,--all false, all artificial, all meretricious and unnatural; no part or portion of her from which it might be inferred what her Creator originally designed her to be. "But when a nice little American girl, who has been brought up to cultivate her mind, to refine her taste, to care for her health, to be a helpful daughter and a good sister, to visit the poor and teach in Sunday schools; when a good, sweet, modest little puss of this kind combs all her pretty hair backward till it is one mass of frowsy confusion; when she powders, and paints under her eyes; when she adopts, with eager enthusiasm, every _outré_, unnatural fashion that comes from the most dissipated foreign circles,--she is in bad taste, because she does not represent either her character, her education, or her good points. She looks like a second-rate actress, when she is, in fact, a most thoroughly respectable, estimable, lovable little girl, and on the way, as we poor fellows fondly hope, to bless some one of us with her tenderness and care in some nice home in the future. "It is not the fashion in America for young girls to have waiting-maids,--in foreign countries it is the fashion. All this meretricious toilet--so elaborate, so complicated, and so contrary to nature--must be accomplished, and it is accomplished, by the busy little fingers of each girl for herself; and so it seems to be very evident that a style of hair-dressing which it will require hours to disentangle, which must injure and in time ruin the natural beauty of the hair, ought to be one thing which a well-regulated court of inquiry would reject in our American fashions. "Again, the genius of American life is for simplicity and absence of ostentation. We have no parade of office: our public men wear no robes, no stars, garters, collars, etc.; and it would, therefore, be in good taste in our women to cultivate simple styles of dress. Now I object to the present fashions, as adopted from France, that they are flashy and theatrical. Having their origin with a community whose senses are blunted, drugged, and deadened with dissipation and ostentation, they reject the simpler forms of beauty, and seek for startling effects, for odd and unexpected results. The contemplation of one of our fashionable churches, at the hour when its fair occupants pour forth, gives one a great deal of surprise. The toilets there displayed might have been in good keeping among showy Parisian women in an opera house, but even their original inventors would have been shocked at the idea of carrying them into a church. The rawness of our American mind as to the subject of propriety in dress is nowhere more shown than in the fact that no apparent distinction is made between church and opera house in the adaptation of attire. Very estimable and we trust very religious young women sometimes enter the house of God in a costume which makes their utterance of the words of the litany and the acts of prostrate devotion in the service seem almost burlesque. When a brisk little creature comes into a pew with hair frizzed till it stands on end in a most startling manner, rattling strings of beads and bits of tinsel, mounting over all some pert little hat with a red or green feather standing saucily upright in front, she may look exceedingly pretty and piquant; and, if she came there for a game of croquet or a tableau party, would be all in very good taste; but as she comes to confess that she is a miserable sinner, that she has done the things she ought not to have done, and left undone the things she ought to have done,--as she takes upon her lips most solemn and tremendous words, whose meaning runs far beyond life into a sublime eternity,--there is a discrepancy which would be ludicrous if it were not melancholy. "One is apt to think, at first view, that St. Jerome was right in saying, "'She who comes in glittering vest To mourn her frailty, still is frail.' But St. Jerome was in the wrong, after all; for a flashy, unsuitable attire in church is not always a mark of an undevout or entirely worldly mind; it is simply a mark of a raw, uncultivated taste. In Italy, the ecclesiastical law prescribing a uniform black dress for the churches gives a sort of education to European ideas of propriety in toilet, which prevents churches from being made theatres for the same kind of display which is held to be in good taste at places of public amusement. It is but justice to the inventors of Parisian fashions to say that, had they ever had the smallest idea of going to church and Sunday school, as our good girls do, they would immediately have devised toilets appropriate to such exigencies. If it were any part of their plan of life to appear statedly in public to confess themselves 'miserable sinners,' we should doubtless have sent over here the design of some graceful penitential habit, which would give our places of worship a much more appropriate air than they now have. As it is, it would form a subject for such a court of inquiry and adaptation as we have supposed, to draw a line between the costume of the theatre and the church. "In the same manner, there is a want of appropriateness in the costume of our American women, who display in the street promenade a style of dress and adornment originally intended for showy carriage drives in such great exhibition grounds as the Bois de Boulogne. The makers of Parisian fashions are not generally walkers. They do not, with all their extravagance, have the bad taste to trail yards of silk and velvet over the mud and dirt of a pavement, or promenade the street in a costume so pronounced and striking as to draw the involuntary glance of every eye; and the showy toilets displayed on the _pavé_ by American young women have more than once exposed them to misconstruction in the eyes of foreign observers. "Next to appropriateness, the second requisite to beauty in dress I take to be unity of effect. In speaking of the arrangement of rooms in the 'House and Home Papers,' I criticised some apartments wherein were many showy articles of furniture, and much expense had been incurred, because, with all this, there was no _unity of result_. The carpet was costly, and in itself handsome; the paper was also in itself handsome and costly; the tables and chairs also in themselves very elegant; and yet, owing to a want of any unity of idea, any grand harmonizing tint of color, or method of arrangement, the rooms had a jumbled, confused air, and nothing about them seemed particularly pretty or effective. I instanced rooms where thousands of dollars had been spent, which, because of this defect, never excited admiration; and others in which the furniture was of the cheapest description, but which always gave immediate and universal pleasure. The same rule holds good in dress. As in every apartment, so in every toilet, there should be one ground-tone or dominant color, which should rule all the others, and there should be a general style of idea to which everything should be subjected. "We may illustrate the effect of this principle in a very familiar case. It is generally conceded that the majority of women look better in mourning than they do in their ordinary apparel; a comparatively plain person looks almost handsome in simple black. Now why is this? Simply because mourning requires a severe uniformity of color and idea, and forbids the display of that variety of colors and objects which go to make up the ordinary female costume, and which very few women have such skill in using as to produce really beautiful effects. "Very similar results have been attained by the Quaker costume, which, in spite of the quaint severity of the forms to which it adhered, has always had a remarkable degree of becomingness, because of its restriction to a few simple colors and to the absence of distracting ornament. "But the same effect which is produced in mourning or the Quaker costume may be preserved in a style of dress admitting color and ornamentation. A dress may have the richest fullness of color, and still the tints may be so chastened and subdued as to produce the impression of a severe simplicity. Suppose, for example, a golden-haired blonde chooses for the ground-tone of her toilet a deep shade of purple, such as affords a good background for the hair and complexion. The larger draperies of the costume being of this color, the bonnet may be of a lighter shade of the same, ornamented with lilac hyacinths, shading insensibly towards rose-color. The effect of such a costume is simple, even though there be much ornament, because it is ornament artistically disposed towards a general result. "A dark shade of green being chosen as the ground-tone of a dress, the whole costume may, in like manner, be worked up through lighter and brighter shades of green, in which rose-colored flowers may appear with the same impression of simple appropriateness that is made by the pink blossom over the green leaves of a rose. There have been times in France when the study of color produced artistic effects in costume worthy of attention, and resulted in styles of dress of real beauty. But the present corrupted state of morals there has introduced a corrupt taste in dress; and it is worthy of thought that the decline of moral purity in society is often marked by the deterioration of the sense of artistic beauty. Corrupt and dissipated social epochs produce corrupt styles of architecture and corrupt styles of drawing and painting, as might easily be illustrated by the history of art. When the leaders of society have blunted their finer perceptions by dissipation and immorality, they are incapable of feeling the beauties which come from delicate concords and truly artistic combinations. They verge towards barbarism, and require things that are strange, odd, dazzling, and peculiar to captivate their jaded senses. Such we take to be the condition of Parisian society now. The tone of it is given by women who are essentially impudent and vulgar, who override and overrule, by the mere brute force of opulence and luxury, women of finer natures and moral tone. The court of France is a court of adventurers, of parvenus; and the palaces, the toilets, the equipage, the entertainments, of the mistresses outshine those of the lawful wives. Hence comes a style of dress which is in itself vulgar, ostentatious, pretentious, without simplicity, without unity, seeking to dazzle by strange combinations and daring contrasts. "Now, when the fashions emanating from such a state of society come to our country, where it has been too much the habit to put on and wear, without dispute and without inquiry, any or every thing that France sends, the results produced are often things to make one wonder. A respectable man, sitting quietly in church or other public assembly, may be pardoned sometimes for indulging a silent sense of the ridiculous in the contemplation of the forest of bonnets which surround him, as he humbly asks himself the question, Were these meant to cover the head, to defend it, or to ornament it? and, if they are intended for any of these purposes, how? "I confess, to me nothing is so surprising as the sort of things which well-bred women serenely wear on their heads with the idea that they are ornaments. On my right hand sits a good-looking girl with a thing on her head which seems to consist mostly of bunches of grass, straws, with a confusion of lace, in which sits a draggled bird, looking as if the cat had had him before the lady. In front of her sits another, who has a glittering confusion of beads swinging hither and thither from a jaunty little structure of black and red velvet. An anxious-looking matron appears under the high eaves of a bonnet with a gigantic crimson rose crushed down into a mass of tangled hair. She is _ornamented_! she has no doubt about it. "The fact is, that a style of dress which allows the use of everything in heaven above or earth beneath requires more taste and skill in disposition than falls to the lot of most of the female sex to make it even tolerable. In consequence, the flowers, fruits, grass, hay, straw, oats, butterflies, beads, birds, tinsel, streamers, jinglers, lace, bugles, crape, which seem to be appointed to form a covering for the female head, very often appear in combinations so singular, and the results, taken in connection with all the rest of the costume, are such, that we really think the people who usually assemble in a Quaker meeting-house are, with their entire absence of ornament, more becomingly attired than the majority of our public audiences. For if one considers his own impression after having seen an assemblage of women dressed in Quaker costume, he will find it to be, not of a confusion of twinkling finery, but of many fair, sweet faces, of charming, nice-looking women, and not of articles of dress. Now this shows that the severe dress, after all, has better answered the true purpose of dress, in setting forth the _woman_, than our modern costume, where the woman is but one item in a flying mass of colors and forms, all of which distract attention from the faces they are supposed to adorn. The dress of the Philadelphian ladies has always been celebrated for its elegance of effect, from the fact, probably, that the early Quaker parentage of the city formed the eye and the taste of its women for uniform and simple styles of color, and for purity and chastity of lines. The most perfect toilets that have ever been achieved in America have probably been those of the class familiarly called the gay Quakers,--children of Quaker families, who, while abandoning the strict rules of the sect, yet retain their modest and severe reticence, relying on richness of material, and soft, harmonious coloring, rather than striking and dazzling ornament. "The next source of beauty in dress is the impression of truthfulness and reality. It is a well-known principle of the fine arts, in all their branches, that all shams and mere pretenses are to be rejected,--a truth which Ruskin has shown with the full lustre of his many-colored prose-poetry. As stucco pretending to be marble, and graining pretending to be wood, are in false taste in building, so false jewelry and cheap fineries of every kind are in bad taste; so also is powder instead of natural complexion, false hair instead of real, and flesh-painting of every description. I have even the hardihood to think and assert, in the presence of a generation whereof not one woman in twenty wears her own hair, that the simple, short-cropped locks of Rosa Bonheur are in a more beautiful style of hair-dressing than the most elaborate edifice of curls, rats, and waterfalls that is erected on any fair head nowadays." "Oh, Mr. Crowfield! you hit us all now," cried several voices. "I know it, girls,--I know it. I admit that you are all looking very pretty; but I do maintain that you are none of you doing yourselves justice, and that Nature, if you would only follow her, would do better for you than all these elaborations. A short crop of your own hair, that you could brush out in ten minutes every morning, would have a more real, healthy beauty than the elaborate structures which cost you hours of time, and give you the headache besides. I speak of the short crop,--to put the case at the very lowest figure,--for many of you have lovely hair of different lengths, and susceptible of a variety of arrangements, if you did not suppose yourself obliged to build after a foreign pattern, instead of following out the intentions of the great Artist who made you. "Is it necessary absolutely that every woman and girl should look exactly like every other one? There are women whom Nature makes with wavy or curly hair: let them follow her. There are those whom she makes with soft and smooth locks, and with whom crinkling and crêping is only a sham. They look very pretty with it, to be sure; but, after all, is there but one style of beauty? and might they not look prettier in cultivating the style which Nature seemed to have intended for them? "As to the floods of false jewelry, glass beads, and tinsel finery which seem to be sweeping over the toilet of our women, I must protest that they are vulgarizing the taste, and having a seriously bad effect on the delicacy of artistic perception. It is almost impossible to manage such material and give any kind of idea of neatness or purity; for the least wear takes away their newness. And, of all disreputable things, tumbled, rumpled, and tousled finery is the most disreputable. A simple white muslin, that can come fresh from the laundry every week, is, in point of real taste, worth any amount of spangled tissues. A plain straw bonnet, with only a ribbon across it, is in reality in better taste than rubbishy birds or butterflies, or tinsel ornaments. "Finally, girls, don't dress at haphazard; for dress, so far from being a matter of small consequence, is in reality one of the fine arts,--so far from trivial, that each country ought to have a style of its own, and each individual such a liberty of modification of the general fashion as suits and befits her person, her age, her position in life, and the kind of character she wishes to maintain. "The only motive in toilet which seems to have obtained much as yet among young girls is the very vague impulse to look 'stylish,'--a desire which must answer for more vulgar dressing than one would wish to see. If girls would rise above this, and desire to express by their dress the attributes of true ladyhood, nicety of eye, fastidious neatness, purity of taste, truthfulness, and sincerity of nature, they might form, each one for herself, a style having its own individual beauty, incapable of ever becoming common and vulgar. "A truly trained taste and eye would enable a lady to select from the permitted forms of fashion such as might be modified to her purposes, always remembering that simplicity is safe, that to attempt little and succeed is better than to attempt a great deal and fail. "And now, girls, I will finish by reciting to you the lines old Ben Jonson addressed to the pretty girls of his time, which form an appropriate ending to my remarks:-- "'Still to be dressed As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed; Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. "'Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace,-- Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art, That strike my eyes, but not my heart.'" XI THE CATHEDRAL "I am going to build a cathedral one of these days," said I to my wife, as I sat looking at the slant line of light made by the afternoon sun on our picture of the Cathedral of Milan. "That picture is one of the most poetic things you have among your house ornaments," said Rudolph. "Its original is the world's chief beauty,--a tribute to religion such as Art never gave before and never can again,--as much before the Pantheon as the Alps, with their virgin snows and glittering pinnacles, are above all temples made with hands. Say what you will, those Middle Ages that you call Dark had a glory of faith that never will be seen in our days of cotton-mills and Manchester prints. Where will you marshal such an army of saints as stands in yonder white-marble forest, visibly transfigured and glorified in that celestial Italian air? Saintship belonged to the medieval Church; the heroism of religion has died with it." "That's just like one of your assertions, Rudolph," said I. "You might as well say that Nature has never made any flowers since Linnæus shut up his herbarium. We have no statues and pictures of modern saints; but saints themselves, thank God, have never been wanting. 'As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be'"-- "But what about your cathedral?" said my wife. "Oh yes!--my cathedral,--yes. When my stocks in cloud-land rise, I'll build a cathedral larger than Milan's; and the men, but more particularly the women, thereon, shall be those who have done even more than Saint Paul tells of in the saints of old, who 'subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens.' I am not now thinking of Florence Nightingale, nor of the host of women who have been walking worthily in her footsteps, but of nameless saints of more retired and private state,--domestic saints, who have tended children not their own through whooping-cough and measles, and borne the unruly whims of fretful invalids,--stocking-darning, shirt-making saints,--saints who wore no visible garment of haircloth, bound themselves with no belts of spikes and nails, yet in their inmost souls were marked and seared with the red cross of a lifelong self-sacrifice,--saints for whom the mystical terms self-annihilation and self-crucifixion had a real and tangible meaning, all the stronger because their daily death was marked by no outward sign. No mystical rites consecrated them; no organ-music burst forth in solemn rapture to welcome them; no habit of their order proclaimed to themselves and the world that they were the elect of Christ, the brides of another life: but small, eating cares, daily prosaic duties, the petty friction of all the littleness and all the inglorious annoyances of every day, were as dust that hid the beauty and grandeur of their calling even from themselves; they walked unknown even to their households, unknown even to their own souls; but when the Lord comes to build his New Jerusalem, we shall find many a white stone with a new name thereon, and the record of deeds and words which only He that seeth in secret knows. Many a humble soul will be amazed to find that the seed it sowed in such weakness, in the dust of daily life, has blossomed into immortal flowers under the eye of the Lord. "When I build my cathedral, that woman," I said, pointing to a small painting by the fire, "shall be among the first of my saints. You see her there, in an every-day dress-cap with a mortal thread-lace border, and with a very ordinary worked collar, fastened by a visible and terrestrial breastpin. There is no nimbus around her head, no sign of the cross upon her breast; her hands are clasped on no crucifix or rosary. Her clear, keen, hazel eye looks as if it could sparkle with mirthfulness, as in fact it could; there are in it both the subtile flash of wit and the subdued light of humor; and though the whole face smiles, it has yet a certain decisive firmness that speaks the soul immutable in good. That woman shall be the first saint in my cathedral, and her name shall be recorded as Saint Esther. What makes saintliness in my view, as distinguished from ordinary goodness, is a certain quality of magnanimity and greatness of soul that brings life within the circle of the heroic. To be really great in little things, to be truly noble and heroic in the insipid details of every-day life, is a virtue so rare as to be worthy of canonization,--and this virtue was hers. New England Puritanism must be credited with the making of many such women. Severe as was her discipline, and harsh as seems now her rule, we have yet to see whether women will be born of modern systems of tolerance and indulgence equal to those grand ones of the olden times whose places now know them no more. The inconceivable austerity and solemnity with which Puritanism invested this mortal life, the awful grandeur of the themes which it made household words, the sublimity of the issues which it hung upon the commonest acts of our earthly existence, created characters of more than Roman strength and greatness; and the good men and women of Puritan training excelled the saints of the Middle Ages, as a soul fully developed intellectually, educated to closest thought, and exercised in reasoning, is superior to a soul great merely through impulse and sentiment. "My earliest recollections of Aunt Esther, for so our saint was known, were of a bright-faced, cheerful, witty, quick-moving little middle-aged person, who came into our house like a good fairy whenever there was a call of sickness or trouble. If an accident happened in the great roystering family of eight or ten children (and when was not something happening to some of us?), and we were shut up in a sick-room, then duly as daylight came the quick step and cheerful face of Aunt Esther,--not solemn and lugubrious like so many sick-room nurses, but with a never failing flow of wit and story that could beguile even the most doleful into laughing at their own afflictions. I remember how a fit of the quinsy--most tedious of all sicknesses to an active child--was gilded and glorified into quite a fête by my having Aunt Esther all to myself for two whole days, with nothing to do but amuse me. She charmed me into smiling at the very pangs which had made me weep before, and of which she described her own experiences in a manner to make me think that, after all, the quinsy was something with an amusing side to it. Her knowledge of all sorts of medicines, gargles, and alleviatives, her perfect familiarity with every canon and law of good nursing and tending, was something that could only have come from long experience in those good old New England days when there were no nurses recognized as a class in the land, but when watching and the care of the sick were among those offices of Christian life which the families of a neighborhood reciprocally rendered each other. Even from early youth she had obeyed a special vocation as sister of charity in many a sick-room, and, with the usual keen intelligence of New England, had widened her powers of doing good by the reading of medical and physiological works. Her legends of nursing in those days of long typhus fever and other formidable and protracted forms of disease were to our ears quite wonderful, and we regarded her as a sort of patron saint of the sick-room. She seemed always so cheerful, so bright, and so devoted, that it never occurred to us youngsters to doubt that she enjoyed, above all things, being with us, waiting on us all day, watching over us by night, telling us stories, and answering, in her lively and always amusing and instructive way, that incessant fire of questions with which a child persecutes a grown person. "Sometimes, as a reward of goodness, we were allowed to visit her in her own room, a neat little parlor in the neighborhood, whose windows looked down a hillside on one hand, under the boughs of an apple-orchard, where daisies and clover and bobolinks always abounded in summer time; and on the other faced the street, with a green yard flanked by one or two shady elms between them and the street. No nun's cell was ever neater, no bee's cell ever more compactly and carefully arranged; and to us, familiar with the confusion of a great family of little ones, there was always something inviting about its stillness, its perfect order, and the air of thoughtful repose that breathed over it. She lived there in perfect independence, doing, as it was her delight to do, every office of life for herself. She was her own cook, her own parlor and chamber maid, her own laundress; and very faultless the cooking, washing, ironing, and care of her premises were. A slice of Aunt Esther's gingerbread, one of Aunt Esther's cookies, had, we all believed, certain magical properties such as belonged to no other mortal mixture. Even a handful of walnuts that were brought from the depths of her mysterious closet had virtues in our eyes such as no other walnuts could approach. The little shelf of books that hung suspended by cords against her wall was sacred in our regard; the volumes were like no other books; and we supposed that she derived from them those stores of knowledge on all subjects which she unconsciously dispensed among us,--for she was always telling us something of metals, or minerals, or gems, or plants, or animals, which awakened our curiosity, stimulated our inquiries, and, above all, led us to wonder where she had learned it all. Even the slight restrictions which her neat habits imposed on our breezy and turbulent natures seemed all quite graceful and becoming. It was right, in our eyes, to cleanse our shoes on scraper and mat with extra diligence, and then to place a couple of chips under the heels of our boots when we essayed to dry our feet at her spotless hearth. We marveled to see our own faces reflected in a thousand smiles and winks from her bright brass andirons,--such andirons we thought were seen on earth in no other place,--and a pair of radiant brass candlesticks, that illustrated the mantelpiece, were viewed with no less respect. "Aunt Esther's cat was a model for all cats,--so sleek, so intelligent, so decorous and well-trained, always occupying exactly her own cushion by the fire, and never transgressing in one iota the proprieties belonging to a cat of good breeding. She shared our affections with her mistress, and we were allowed as a great favor and privilege, now and then, to hold the favorite on our knees, and stroke her satin coat to a smoother gloss. "But it was not for cats alone that she had attractions. She was in sympathy and fellowship with everything that moved and lived; knew every bird and beast with a friendly acquaintanceship. The squirrels that inhabited the trees in the front yard were won in time by her blandishments to come and perch on her window-sills, and thence, by trains of nuts adroitly laid, to disport themselves on the shining cherry tea-table that stood between the windows; and we youngsters used to sit entranced with delight as they gamboled and waved their feathery tails in frolicsome security, eating rations of gingerbread and bits of seedcake with as good a relish as any child among us. "The habits, the rights, the wrongs, the wants, and the sufferings of the animal creation formed the subject of many an interesting conversation with her; and we boys, with the natural male instinct of hunting, trapping, and pursuing, were often made to pause in our career, remembering her pleas for the dumb things which could not speak for themselves. "Her little hermitage was the favorite resort of numerous friends. Many of the young girls who attended the village academy made her acquaintance, and nothing delighted her more than that they should come there and read to her the books they were studying, when her superior and wide information enabled her to light up and explain much that was not clear to the immature students. "In her shady retirement, too, she was a sort of Egeria to certain men of genius, who came to read to her their writings, to consult her in their arguments, and to discuss with her the literature and politics of the day,--through all which her mind moved with an equal step, yet with a sprightliness and vivacity peculiarly feminine. "Her memory was remarkably retentive, not only of the contents of books, but of all that great outlying fund of anecdote and story which the quaint and earnest New England life always supplied. There were pictures of peculiar characters, legends of true events stranger than romance, all stored in the cabinets of her mind; and these came from her lips with the greater force because the precision of her memory enabled her to authenticate them with name, date, and circumstances of vivid reality. From that shadowy line of incidents which marks the twilight boundary between the spiritual world and the present life she drew legends of peculiar clearness, but invested with the mysterious charm which always dwells in that uncertain region; and the shrewd flash of her eye, and the keen, bright smile with which she answered the wondering question, 'What _do_ you suppose it was?' or, 'What could it have been?' showed how evenly rationalism in her mind kept pace with romance. "The retired room in which she thus read, studied, thought, and surveyed from afar the whole world of science and literature, and in which she received friends and entertained children, was perhaps the dearest and freshest spot to her in the world. There came a time, however, when the neat little independent establishment was given up, and she went to associate herself with two of her nieces in keeping house for a boarding-school of young girls. Here her lively manners and her gracious interest in the young made her a universal favorite, though the cares she assumed broke in upon those habits of solitude and study which formed her delight. From the day that she surrendered this independency of hers, she had never, for more than a score of years, a home of her own, but filled the trying position of an accessory in the home of others. Leaving the boarding-school, she became the helper of an invalid wife and mother in the early nursing and rearing of a family of young children,--an office which leaves no privacy and no leisure. Her bed was always shared with some little one; her territories were exposed to the constant inroads of little pattering feet; and all the various sicknesses and ailments of delicate childhood made absorbing drafts upon her time. "After a while she left New England with the brother to whose family she devoted herself. The failing health of the wife and mother left more and more the charge of all things in her hands; servants were poor, and all the appliances of living had the rawness and inconvenience which in those days attended Western life. It became her fate to supply all other people's defects and deficiencies. Wherever a hand failed, there must her hand be. Whenever a foot faltered, she must step into the ranks. She was the one who thought for and cared for and toiled for all, yet made never a claim that any one should care for her. "It was not till late in my life that I became acquainted with the deep interior sacrifice, the constant self-abnegation, which all her life involved. She was born with a strong, vehement, impulsive nature,--a nature both proud and sensitive,--a nature whose tastes were passions, whose likings and whose aversions were of the most intense and positive character. Devoted as she always seemed to the mere practical and material, she had naturally a deep romance and enthusiasm of temperament which exceeded all that can be written in novels. It was chiefly owing to this that a home and a central affection of her own were never hers. In her early days of attractiveness, none who would have sought her could meet the high requirements of her ideality; she never saw her hero, and so never married. Family cares, the tending of young children, she often confessed, were peculiarly irksome to her. She had the head of a student, a passionate love for the world of books. A Protestant convent, where she might devote herself without interruption to study, was her ideal of happiness. She had, too, the keenest appreciation of poetry, of music, of painting, and of natural scenery. Her enjoyment in any of these things was intensely vivid whenever, by chance, a stray sunbeam of the kind darted across the dusty path of her life; yet in all these her life was a constant repression. The eagerness with which she would listen to any account from those more fortunate ones who had known these things, showed how ardent a passion was constantly held in check. A short time before her death, talking with a friend who had visited Switzerland, she said, with great feeling: 'All my life my desire to visit the beautiful places of this earth has been so intense, that I cannot but hope that after my death I shall be permitted to go and look at them.' "The completeness of her self-discipline may be gathered from the fact that no child could ever be brought to believe she had not a natural fondness for children, or that she found the care of them burdensome. It was easy to see that she had naturally all those particular habits, those minute pertinacities in respect to her daily movements and the arrangement of all her belongings, which would make the meddling, intrusive demands of infancy and childhood peculiarly hard for her to meet. Yet never was there a pair of toddling feet that did not make free with Aunt Esther's room, never a curly head that did not look up, in confiding assurance of a welcome smile, to her bright eyes. The inconsiderate and never ceasing requirements of children and invalids never drew from her other than a cheerful response; and to my mind there is more saintship in this than in the private wearing of any number of haircloth shirts or belts lined with spikes. "In a large family of careless, noisy children there will be constant losing of thimbles and needles and scissors; but Aunt Esther was always ready, without reproach, to help the careless and the luckless. Her things, so well kept and so treasured, she was willing to lend, with many a caution and injunction, it is true, but also with a relish of right good will. And, to do us justice, we generally felt the sacredness of the trust, and were more careful of her things than of our own. If a shade of sewing-silk were wanting, or a choice button, or a bit of braid or tape, Aunt Esther cheerfully volunteered something from her well-kept stores, not regarding the trouble she made herself in seeking the key, unlocking the drawer, and searching out in bag or parcel just the treasure demanded. Never was more perfect precision, or more perfect readiness to accommodate others. "Her little income, scarcely reaching a hundred dollars yearly, was disposed of with a generosity worthy a fortune. One tenth was sacredly devoted to charity, and a still further sum laid by every year for presents to friends. No Christmas or New Year ever came round that Aunt Esther, out of this very tiny fund, did not find something for children and servants. Her gifts were trifling in value, but well timed,--a ball of thread-wax, a paper of pins, a pin-cushion,--something generally so well chosen as to show that she had been running over our needs, and noting what to give. She was no less gracious as receiver than as giver. The little articles that we made for her, or the small presents that we could buy out of our childish resources, she always declared were exactly what she needed; and she delighted us by the care she took of them and the value she set upon them. "Her income was a source of the greatest pleasure to her, as maintaining an independence without which she could not have been happy. Though she constantly gave to every family in which she lived services which no money could repay, it would have been the greatest trial to her not to be able to provide for herself. Her dress, always that of a true gentlewoman,--refined, quiet, and neat,--was bought from this restricted sum, and her small traveling expenses were paid out of it. She abhorred anything false or flashy: her caps were trimmed with real thread lace, and her silk dresses were of the best quality, perfectly well made and kept; and, after all, a little sum always remained over in her hands for unforeseen exigencies. "This love of independence was one of the strongest features of her life, and we often playfully told her that her only form of selfishness was the monopoly of saintship,--that she who gave so much was not willing to allow others to give to her; that she who made herself servant of all was not willing to allow others to serve her. "Among the trials of her life must be reckoned much ill health, borne, however, with such heroic patience that it was not easy to say when the hand of pain was laid upon her. She inherited, too, a tendency to depression of spirits, which at times increased to a morbid and distressing gloom. Few knew or suspected these sufferings, so completely had she learned to suppress every outward manifestation that might interfere with the happiness of others. In her hours of depression she resolutely forbore to sadden the lives of those around her with her own melancholy, and often her darkest moods were so lighted up and adorned with an outside show of wit and humor, that those who had known her intimately were astonished to hear that she had ever been subject to depression. "Her truthfulness of nature amounted almost to superstition. From her promise once given she felt no change of purpose could absolve her; and therefore rarely would she give it absolutely, for she _could not_ alter the thing that had gone forth from her lips. Our belief in the certainty of her fulfilling her word was like our belief in the immutability of the laws of nature. Whoever asked her got of her the absolute truth on every subject, and, when she had no good thing to say, her silence was often truly awful. When anything mean or ungenerous was brought to her knowledge, she would close her lips resolutely; but the flash in her eyes showed what she would speak were speech permitted. In her last days she spoke to a friend of what she had suffered from the strength of her personal antipathies. 'I thank God,' she said, 'that I believe at last I have overcome all that too, and that there has not been, for some years, any human being toward whom I have felt a movement of dislike.' "The last year of her life was a constant discipline of unceasing pain, borne with that fortitude which could make her an entertaining and interesting companion even while the sweat of mortal agony was starting from her brow. Her own room she kept as a last asylum, to which she would silently retreat when the torture became too intense for the repression of society, and there alone, with closed doors, she wrestled with her agony. The stubborn independence of her nature took refuge in this final fastness, and she prayed only that she might go down to death with the full ability to steady herself all the way, needing the help of no other hand. "The ultimate struggle of earthly feeling came when this proud self-reliance was forced to give way, and she was obliged to leave herself helpless in the hands of others. 'God requires that I should give up my last form of self-will,' she said; 'now I have resigned this, perhaps He will let me go home.' "In a good old age, Death, the friend, came and opened the door of this mortal state, and a great soul, that had served a long appenticeship to little things, went forth into the joy of its Lord; a life of self-sacrifice and self-abnegation passed into a life of endless rest." "But," said Rudolph, "I rebel at this life of self-abnegation and self-sacrifice. I do not think it the duty of noble women, who have beautiful natures and enlarged and cultivated tastes, to make themselves the slaves of the sick-room and nursery." "Such was not the teaching of our New England faith," said I. "Absolute unselfishness,--the death of self,--such were its teachings, and such as Esther's the characters it made. 'Do the duty nearest thee' was the only message it gave to 'women with a mission;' and from duty to duty, from one self-denial to another, they rose to a majesty of moral strength impossible to any form of mere self-indulgence. It is of souls thus sculptured and chiseled by self-denial and self-discipline that the living temple of the perfect hereafter is to be built. The pain of the discipline is short, but the glory of the fruition is eternal." XII THE NEW YEAR [1865.] Here comes the First of January, Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-Five, and we are all settled comfortably into our winter places, with our winter surroundings and belongings; all cracks and openings are calked and listed, the double windows are in, the furnace dragon in the cellar is ruddy and in good liking, sending up his warming respirations through every pipe and register in the house; and yet, though an artificial summer reigns everywhere, like bees we have our swarming place,--in my library. There is my chimney-corner, and my table permanently established on one side of the hearth; and each of the female genus has, so to speak, pitched her own winter tent within sight of the blaze of my camp-fire. I discerned to-day that Jenny had surreptitiously appropriated one of the drawers of my study-table to knitting-needles and worsted; and wicker work-baskets and stands of various heights and sizes seem to be planted here and there for permanence among the bookcases. The canary-bird has a sunny window, and the plants spread out their leaves and unfold their blossoms as if there were no ice and snow in the street, and Rover makes a hearth-rug of himself in winking satisfaction in front of my fire, except when Jenny is taken with a fit of discipline, when he beats a retreat, and secretes himself under my table. Peaceable, ah, how peaceable, home and quiet and warmth in winter! And how, when we hear the wind whistle, we think of you, O our brave brothers, our saviors and defenders, who for our sake have no home but the muddy camp, the hard pillow of the barrack, the weary march, the uncertain fare,--you, the rank and file, the thousand unnoticed ones, who have left warm fires, dear wives, loving little children, without even the hope of glory or fame,--without even the hope of doing anything remarkable or perceptible for the cause you love,--resigned only to fill the ditch or bridge the chasm over which your country shall walk to peace and joy! Good men and true, brave unknown hearts, we salute you, and feel that we, in our soft peace and security, are not worthy of you! When we think of you, our simple comforts seem luxuries all too good for us, who give so little when you give all! But there are others to whom from our bright homes, our cheerful firesides, we would fain say a word, if we dared. Think of a mother receiving a letter with such a passage as this in it! It is extracted from one we have just seen, written by a private in the army of Sheridan, describing the death of a private. "He fell instantly, gave a peculiar smile and look, and then closed his eyes. We laid him down gently at the foot of a large tree. I crossed his hands over his breast, closed his eyelids down, but the smile was still on his face. I wrapt him in his tent, spread my pocket-handkerchief over his face, wrote his name on a piece of paper, and pinned it on his breast, and there we left him: we could not find pick or shovel to dig a grave." There it is!--a history that is multiplying itself by hundreds daily, the substance of what has come to so many homes, and must come to so many more before the great price of our ransom is paid! What can we say to you, in those many, many homes where the light has gone out forever?--you, O fathers, mothers, wives, sisters, haunted by a name that has ceased to be spoken on earth,--you, for whom there is no more news from the camp, no more reading of lists, no more tracing of maps, no more letters, but only a blank, dead silence! The battlecry goes on, but for you it is passed by! the victory comes, but, oh, never more to bring him back to you! your offering to this great cause has been made, and been taken; you have thrown into it _all_ your living, even all that you had, and from henceforth your house is left unto you desolate! O ye watchers of the cross, ye waiters by the sepulchre, what can be said to you? We could almost extinguish our own home-fires, that seem too bright when we think of your darkness; the laugh dies on our lip, the lamp burns dim through our tears, and we seem scarcely worthy to speak words of comfort, lest we seem as those who mock a grief they cannot know. But is there no consolation? Is it nothing to have had such a treasure to give, and to have given it freely for the noblest cause for which ever battle was set,--for the salvation of your country, for the freedom of all mankind? Had he died a fruitless death, in the track of common life, blasted by fever, smitten or rent by crushing accident, then might his most precious life seem to be as water spilled upon the ground; but now it has been given for a cause and a purpose worthy even the anguish of your loss and sacrifice. He has been counted worthy to be numbered with those who stood with precious incense between the living and the dead, that the plague which was consuming us might be stayed. The blood of these young martyrs shall be the seed of the future church of liberty, and from every drop shall spring up flowers of healing. O widow! O mother! blessed among bereaved women! there remains to you a treasure that belongs not to those who have lost in any other wise,--the power to say, "He died for his country." In all the good that comes of this anguish you shall have a right and share by virtue of this sacrifice. The joy of freedmen bursting from chains, the glory of a nation new-born, the assurance of a triumphant future for your country and the world,--all these become yours by the purchase-money of that precious blood. Besides this, there are other treasures that come through sorrow, and sorrow alone. There are celestial plants of root so long and so deep that the land must be torn and furrowed, ploughed up from the very foundation, before they can strike and nourish; and when we see how God's plough is driving backward and forward and across this nation, rending, tearing up tender shoots, and burying soft wild-flowers, we ask ourselves, What is He going to plant? Not the first year, nor the second, after the ground has been broken up, does the purpose of the husbandman appear. At first we see only what is uprooted and ploughed in,--the daisy drabbled, and the violet crushed,--and the first trees planted amid the unsightly furrows stand dumb and disconsolate, irresolute in leaf, and without flower or fruit. Their work is under the ground. In darkness and silence they are putting forth long fibres, searching hither and thither under the black soil for the strength that years hence shall burst into bloom and bearing. What is true of nations is true of individuals. It may seem now winter and desolation with you. Your hearts have been ploughed and harrowed and are now frozen up. There is not a flower left, not a blade of grass, not a bird to sing,--and it is hard to believe that any brighter flowers, any greener herbage, shall spring up than those which have been torn away; and yet there will. Nature herself teaches you to-day. Outdoors nothing but bare branches and shrouding snow; and yet you know that there is not a tree that is not patiently holding out at the end of its boughs next year's buds, frozen indeed, but unkilled. The rhododendron and the lilac have their blossoms all ready, wrapped in cere-cloth, waiting in patient faith. Under the frozen ground the crocus and the hyacinth and the tulip hide in their hearts the perfect forms of future flowers. And it is even so with you: your leaf buds of the future are frozen, but not killed; the soil of your heart has many flowers under it cold and still now, but they will yet come up and bloom. The dear old book of comfort tells of no present healing for sorrow. No chastening for the present seemeth joyous, but grievous, but afterwards it yieldeth peaceable fruits of righteousness. We, as individuals, as a nation, need to have faith in that AFTERWARDS. It is sure to come,--sure as spring and summer to follow winter. There is a certain amount of suffering which must follow the rending of the great cords of life, suffering which is natural and inevitable; it cannot be argued down; it cannot be stilled; it can no more be soothed by any effort of faith and reason than the pain of a fractured limb, or the agony of fire on the living flesh. All that we can do is to brace ourselves to bear it, calling on God, as the martyrs did in the fire, and resigning ourselves to let it burn on. We must be willing to suffer, since God so wills. There are just so many waves to go over us, just so many arrows of stinging thought to be shot into our soul, just so many faintings and sinkings and revivings only to suffer again, belonging to and inherent in our portion of sorrow; and there is a work of healing that God has placed in the hands of Time alone. Time heals all things at last; yet it depends much on us in our suffering, whether time shall send us forth healed, indeed, but maimed and crippled and callous, or whether, looking to the great Physician of sorrows, and co-working with him, we come forth stronger and fairer even for our wounds. We call ourselves a Christian people, and the peculiarity of Christianity is that it is a worship and doctrine of sorrow. The five wounds of Jesus, the instruments of the passion, the cross, the sepulchre,--these are its emblems and watchwords. In thousands of churches, amid gold and gems and altars fragrant with perfume, are seen the crown of thorns, the nails, the spear, the cup of vinegar mingled with gall, the sponge that could not slake that burning death-thirst; and in a voice choked with anguish the Church in many lands and divers tongues prays from age to age, "By thine agony and bloody sweat, by thy cross and passion, by thy precious death and burial!"--mighty words of comfort, whose meaning reveals itself only to souls fainting in the cold death-sweat of mortal anguish! They tell all Christians that by uttermost distress alone was the Captain of their salvation made perfect as a Saviour. Sorrow brings us into the true unity of the Church,--that unity which underlies all external creeds, and unites all hearts that have suffered deeply enough to know that when sorrow is at its utmost there is but one kind of sorrow, and but one remedy. What matter, _in extremis_, whether we be called Romanist, or Protestant, or Greek, or Calvinist? We suffer, and Christ suffered; we die, and Christ died; he conquered suffering and death, he rose and lives and reigns,--and we shall conquer, rise, live, and reign. The hours on the cross were long, the thirst was bitter, the darkness and horror real,--_but they ended_. After the wail, "My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" came the calm, "It is finished;" pledge to us all that our "It is finished" shall come also. Christ arose, fresh, joyous, no more to die; and it is written that, when the disciples were gathered together in fear and sorrow, he stood in the midst of them, and showed unto them his hands and his side; and then were they glad. Already had the healed wounds of Jesus become pledges of consolation to innumerable thousands; and those who, like Christ, have suffered the weary struggles, the dim horrors of the cross,--who have lain, like him, cold and chilled in the hopeless sepulchre,--if his spirit wakes them to life, shall come forth with healing power for others who have suffered and are suffering. Count the good and beautiful ministrations that have been wrought in this world of need and labor, and how many of them have been wrought by hands wounded and scarred, by hearts that had scarcely ceased to bleed! How many priests of consolation is God now ordaining by the fiery imposition of sorrow! how many Sisters of the Bleeding Heart, Daughters of Mercy, Sisters of Charity, are receiving their first vocation in tears and blood! The report of every battle strikes into some home; and heads fall low, and hearts are shattered, and only God sees the joy that is set before them, and that shall come out of their sorrow. He sees our morning at the same moment that He sees our night,--sees us comforted, healed, risen to a higher life, at the same moment that He sees us crushed and broken in the dust; and so, though tenderer than we, He bears our great sorrows for the joy that is set before us. After the Napoleonic wars had desolated Europe, the country was, like all countries after war, full of shattered households, of widows and orphans and homeless wanderers. A nobleman of Silesia, the Baron von Kottwitz, who had lost his wife and all his family in the reverses and sorrows of the times, found himself alone in the world, which looked more dreary and miserable through the multiplying lenses of his own tears. But he was one of those whose heart had been quickened in its death anguish by the resurrection voice of Christ; and he came forth to life and comfort. He bravely resolved to do all that one man could to lessen the great sum of misery. He sold his estates in Silesia, bought in Berlin a large building that had been used as barracks for the soldiers, and, fitting it up in plain, commodious apartments, formed there a great family-establishment, into which he received the wrecks and fragments of families that had been broken up by the war,--orphan children, widowed and helpless women, decrepit old people, disabled soldiers. These he made his family, and constituted himself their father and chief. He abode with them, and cared for them as a parent. He had schools for the children; the more advanced he put to trades and employments; he set up a hospital for the sick; and for all he had the priestly ministrations of his own Christ-like heart. The celebrated Professor Tholuck, one of the most learned men of modern Germany, was an early protégé of the old Baron's, who, discerning his talents, put him in the way of a liberal education. In his earlier years, like many others of the young who play with life, ignorant of its needs, Tholuck piqued himself on a lordly skepticism with regard to the commonly received Christianity, and even wrote an essay to prove the superiority of the Mohammedan to the Christian religion. In speaking of his conversion, he says,--"What moved me was no argument, nor any spoken reproof, but simply that divine image of the old Baron walking before my soul. That life was an argument always present to me, and which I never could answer; and so I became a Christian." In the life of this man we see the victory over sorrow. How many with means like his, when desolated by like bereavements, have lain coldly and idly gazing on the miseries of life, and weaving around themselves icy tissues of doubt and despair,--doubting the being of a God, doubting the reality of a Providence, doubting the divine love, embittered and rebellious against the power which they could not resist, yet to which they would not submit! In such a chill heart-freeze lies the danger of sorrow. And it is a mortal danger. It is a torpor that must be resisted, as the man in the whirling snows must bestir himself, or he will perish. The apathy of melancholy must be broken by an effort of religion and duty. The stagnant blood must be made to flow by active work, and the cold hand warmed by clasping the hands outstretched towards it in sympathy or supplication. One orphan child taken in, to be fed, clothed, and nurtured, may save a heart from freezing to death: and God knows this war is making but too many orphans! It is easy to subscribe to an orphan asylum, and go on in one's despair and loneliness. Such ministries may do good to the children who are thereby saved from the street, but they impart little warmth and comfort to the giver. One destitute child housed, taught, cared for, and tended personally, will bring more solace to a suffering heart than a dozen maintained in an asylum. Not that the child will probably prove an angel, or even an uncommonly interesting mortal. It is a prosaic work, this bringing-up of children, and there can be little rose-water in it. The child may not appreciate what is done for him, may not be particularly grateful, may have disagreeable faults, and continue to have them after much pains on your part to eradicate them,--and yet it is a fact, that to redeem one human being from destitution and ruin, even in some homely every-day course of ministrations, is one of the best possible tonics and alteratives to a sick and wounded spirit. But this is not the only avenue to beneficence which the war opens. We need but name the service of hospitals, the care and education of the freedmen,--for these are charities that have long been before the eyes of the community, and have employed thousands of busy hands: thousands of sick and dying beds to tend, a race to be educated, civilized, and Christianized, surely were work enough for one age; and yet this is not all. War shatters everything, and it is hard to say what in society will not need rebuilding and binding up and strengthening anew. Not the least of the evils of war are the vices which a great army engenders wherever it moves,--vices peculiar to military life, as others are peculiar to peace. The poor soldier perils for us not merely his body, but his soul. He leads a life of harassing and exhausting toil and privation, of violent strain on the nervous energies, alternating with sudden collapse, creating a craving for stimulants, and endangering the formation of fatal habits. What furies and harpies are those that follow the army, and that seek out the soldier in his tent, far from home, mother, wife and sister, tired, disheartened, and tempt him to forget his troubles in a momentary exhilaration, that burns only to chill and to destroy! Evil angels are always active and indefatigable, and there must be good angels enlisted to face them; and here is employment for the slack hand of grief. Ah, we have known mothers bereft of sons in this war, who have seemed at once to open wide their hearts, and to become mothers to every brave soldier in the field. They have lived only to work,--and in place of one lost, their sons have been counted by thousands. And not least of all the fields for exertion and Christian charity opened by this war is that presented by womanhood. The war is abstracting from the community its protecting and sheltering elements, and leaving the helpless and dependent in vast disproportion. For years to come, the average of lone women will be largely increased; and the demand, always great, for some means by which they may provide for themselves, in the rude jostle of the world, will become more urgent and imperative. Will any one sit pining away in inert grief, when two streets off are the midnight dance-houses, where girls of twelve, thirteen, and fourteen are being lured into the way of swift destruction? How many of these are daughters of soldiers who have given their hearts' blood for us and our liberties! Two noble women of the Society of Friends have lately been taking the gauge of suffering and misery in our land, visiting the hospitals at every accessible point, pausing in our great cities, and going in their purity to those midnight orgies where mere children are being trained for a life of vice and infamy. They have talked with these poor bewildered souls, entangled in toils as terrible and inexorable as those of the slave-market, and many of whom are frightened and distressed at the life they are beginning to lead, and earnestly looking for the means of escape. In the judgment of these holy women, at least one third of those with whom they have talked are children so recently entrapped, and so capable of reformation, that there would be the greatest hope in efforts for their salvation. While such things are to be done in our land, is there any reason why any one should die of grief? One soul redeemed will do more to lift the burden of sorrow than all the blandishments and diversions of art, all the alleviations of luxury, all the sympathy of friends. In the Roman Catholic Church there is an order of women called the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, who have renounced the world to devote themselves, their talents and property, entirely to the work of seeking out and saving the fallen of their own sex; and the wonders worked by their self-denying love on the hearts and lives of even the most depraved are credible only to those who know that the Good Shepherd himself ever lives and works with such spirits engaged in such a work. A similar order of women exists in New York, under the direction of the Episcopal Church, in connection with St. Luke's Hospital; and another in England, who tend the "House of Mercy" of Clewer. Such benevolent associations offer objects of interest to that class which most needs something to fill the void made by bereavement. The wounds of grief are less apt to find a cure in that rank of life where the sufferer has wealth and leisure. The _poor_ widow, whoso husband was her all, _must_ break the paralysis of grief. The hard necessities of life are her physicians; they send her out to unwelcome, yet friendly toil, which, hard as it seems, has yet its healing power. But the sufferer surrounded by the appliances of wealth and luxury may long indulge the baleful apathy, and remain in the damp shadows of the valley of death till strength and health are irrecoverably lost. How Christ-like is the thought of a woman, graceful, elegant, cultivated, refined, whose voice has been trained to melody, whose fingers can make sweet harmony with every touch, whose pencil and whose needle can awake the beautiful creations of art, devoting all these powers to the work of charming back to the sheepfold those wandering and bewildered lambs whom the Good Shepherd still calls his own! Jenny Lind once, when she sang at a concert for destitute children, exclaimed in her enthusiasm, "Is it not beautiful that I can sing so?" And so may not every woman feel, when her graces and accomplishments draw the wanderer, and charm away evil demons, and soothe the sore and sickened spirit, and make the Christian fold more attractive than the dizzy gardens of false pleasure? In such associations, and others of kindred nature, how many of the stricken and bereaved women of our country might find at once a home and an object in life! Motherless hearts might be made glad in a better and higher motherhood; and the stock of earthly life that seemed cut off at the root, and dead past recovery, may be grafted upon with a shoot from the tree of life which is in the Paradise of God. So the beginning of this eventful 1865, which finds us still treading the wine-press of our great conflict, should bring with it a serene and solemn hope, a joy such as those had with whom in the midst of the fiery furnace there walked one like unto the Son of God. The great affliction that has come upon our country is so evidently the purifying chastening of a Father, rather than the avenging anger of a Destroyer, that all hearts may submit themselves in a solemn and holy calm still to bear the burning that shall make us clean from dross and bring us forth to a higher national life. Never, in the whole course of our history, have such teachings of the pure abstract Right been so commended and forced upon us by Providence. Never have public men been so constrained to humble themselves before God, and to acknowledge that there is a Judge that ruleth in the earth. Verily his inquisition for blood has been strict and awful; and for every stricken household of the poor and lowly hundreds of households of the oppressor have been scattered. The land where the family of the slave was first annihilated, and the negro, with all the loves and hopes of a man, was proclaimed to be a beast to be bred and sold in market with the horse and the swine,--that land, with its fair name, Virginia, has been made a desolation so signal, so wonderful, that the blindest passer-by cannot but ask for what sin so awful a doom has been meted out. The prophetic visions of Nat Turner, who saw the leaves drop blood and the land darkened, have been fulfilled. The work of justice which he predicted is being executed to the uttermost. But when this strange work of judgment and justice is consummated, when our country, through a thousand battles and ten thousands of precious deaths, shall have come forth from this long agony, redeemed and regenerated, then God himself shall return and dwell with us, and the Lord God shall wipe away all tears from all faces, and the rebuke of his people shall he utterly take away. XIII THE NOBLE ARMY OF MARTYRS When the first number of the Chimney-Corner appeared, the snow lay white on the ground, the buds on the trees were closed and frozen, and beneath the hard frost-bound soil lay buried the last year's flower-roots, waiting for a resurrection. So in our hearts it was winter,--a winter of patient suffering and expectancy,--a winter of suppressed sobs, of inward bleedings,--a cold, choked, compressed anguish of endurance, for how long and how much God only could tell us. The first paper of the Chimney-Corner, as was most meet and fitting, was given to those homes made sacred and venerable by the cross of martyrdom,--by the chrism of a great sorrow. That Chimney-Corner made bright by home firelight seemed a fitting place for a solemn act of reverent sympathy for the homes by whose darkness our homes had been preserved bright, by whose emptiness our homes had been kept full, by whose losses our homes had been enriched; and so we ventured with trembling to utter these words of sympathy and cheer to those whom God had chosen to this great sacrifice of sorrow. The winter months passed with silent footsteps, spring returned, and the sun, with ever waxing power, unsealed the snowy sepulchre of buds and leaves,--birds reappeared, brooks were unchained, flowers filled every desolate dell with blossoms and perfume. And with returning spring, in like manner, the chill frost of our fears and of our dangers melted before the breath of the Lord. The great war, which lay like a mountain of ice upon our hearts, suddenly dissolved and was gone. The fears of the past were as a dream when one awaketh, and now we scarce realize our deliverance. A thousand hopes are springing up everywhere, like spring flowers in the forest. All is hopefulness, all is bewildering joy. But this our joy has been ordained to be changed into a wail of sorrow. The kind hard hand, that held the helm so steadily in the desperate tossings of the storm, has been stricken down just as we entered port,--the fatherly heart that bore all our sorrows can take no earthly part in our joys. His were the cares, the watchings, the toils, the agonies, of a nation in mortal struggle; and God, looking down, was so well pleased with his humble faithfulness, his patient continuance in well-doing, that earthly rewards and honors seemed all too poor for him, so he reached down and took him to immortal glories. "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!" Henceforth the place of Abraham Lincoln is first among that noble army of martyrs who have given their blood to the cause of human freedom. The eyes are yet too dim with tears that would seek calmly to trace out his place in history. He has been a marvel and a phenomenon among statesmen, a new kind of ruler in the earth. There has been something even unearthly about his extreme unselfishness, his utter want of personal ambition, personal self-valuation, personal feeling. The most unsparing criticism, denunciation, and ridicule never moved him to a single bitter expression, never seemed to awaken in him a single bitter thought. The most exultant hour of party victory brought no exultation to him; he accepted power not as an honor, but as a responsibility; and when, after a severe struggle, that power came a second time into his hands, there was something preternatural in the calmness of his acceptance of it. The first impulse seemed to be a disclaimer of all triumph over the party that had strained their utmost to push him from his seat, and then a sober girding up of his loins to go on with the work to which he was appointed. His last inaugural was characterized by a tone so peculiarly solemn and free from earthly passion, that it seems to us now, who look back on it in the light of what has followed, as if his soul had already parted from earthly things, and felt the powers of the world to come. It was not the formal state paper of the chief of a party in an hour of victory, so much as the solemn soliloquy of a great soul reviewing its course under a vast responsibility, and appealing from all earthly judgments to the tribunal of Infinite Justice. It was the solemn clearing of his soul for the great sacrament of Death, and the words that he quoted in it with such thrilling power were those of the adoring spirits that veil their faces before the throne,--"Just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints!" Among the rich treasures which this bitter struggle has brought to our country, not the least is the moral wealth which has come to us in the memory of our martyrs. Thousands of men, women, and children too, in this great conflict, have "endured tortures, not accepting deliverance," counting not their lives dear unto them in the holy cause; and they have done this as understandingly and thoughtfully as the first Christians who sealed their witness with their blood. Let us in our hour of deliverance and victory record the solemn vow, that our right hand shall forget her cunning before we forget them and their sufferings,--that our tongue shall cleave to the roof of our mouth if we remember them not above our chief joy. Least suffering among that noble band were those who laid down their lives on the battlefield, to whom was given a brief and speedy passage to the victor's meed. The mourners who mourn for such as these must give place to another and more august band, who have sounded lower deeps of anguish, and drained bitterer drops out of our great cup of trembling. The narrative of the lingering tortures, indignities, and sufferings of our soldiers in Rebel prisons has been something so harrowing that we have not dared to dwell upon it. We have been helplessly dumb before it, and have turned away our eyes from what we could not relieve, and therefore could not endure to look upon. But now, when the nation is called to strike the great and solemn balance of justice, and to decide measures of final retribution, it behooves us all that we should at least watch with our brethren for one hour, and take into our account what they have been made to suffer for us. Sterne said he could realize the miseries of captivity only by setting before him the image of a miserable captive with hollow cheek and wasted eye, notching upon a stick, day after day, the weary record of the flight of time. So we can form a more vivid picture of the sufferings of our martyrs from one simple story than from any general description; and therefore we will speak right on, and tell one story which might stand as a specimen of what has been done and suffered by thousands. In the town of Andover, Massachusetts, a boy of sixteen, named Walter Raymond, enlisted among our volunteers. He was under the prescribed age, but his eager zeal led him to follow the footsteps of an elder brother who had already enlisted; and the father of the boy, though these two were all the sons he had, instead of availing himself of his legal right to withdraw him, indorsed the act in the following letter addressed to his captain:-- ANDOVER, MASS., _August 15, 1862_. CAPTAIN HUNT,--My eldest son has enlisted in your company. I send you his younger brother. He is, and always has been, in perfect health, of more than the ordinary power of endurance, honest, truthful, and courageous. I doubt not you will find him on trial all you can ask, except his age, and that I am sorry to say is only sixteen; yet if our country needs his service, take him. Your obedient servant, SAMUEL RAYMOND. The boy went forth to real service, and to successive battles at Kingston, at Whitehall, and at Goldsborough; and in all this did his duty bravely and faithfully. He met the temptations and dangers of a soldier's life with the pure-hearted firmness of a Christian child, neither afraid nor ashamed to remember his baptismal vows, his Sunday-school teachings, and his mother's wishes. He had passed his promise to his mother against drinking and smoking, and held it with a simple, childlike steadiness. When in the midst of malarious swamps, physicians and officers advised the use of tobacco. The boy writes to his mother: "A great many have begun to smoke, but I shall not do it without your permission, though I think it does a great deal of good." In his leisure hours, he was found in his tent reading; and before battle he prepared his soul with the beautiful psalms and collects for the day, as appointed by his church, and writes with simplicity to his friends:-- "I prayed God that he would watch over me, and if I fell, receive my soul in heaven; and I also prayed that I might not forget the cause I was fighting for, and turn my back in fear." After nine months' service, he returned with a soldier's experience, though with a frame weakened by sickness in a malarious region. But no sooner did health and strength return than he again enlisted, in the Massachusetts cavalry service, and passed many months of constant activity and adventure, being in some severe skirmishes and battles with that portion of Sheridan's troops who approached nearest to Richmond, getting within a mile and a half of the city. At the close of this raid, so hard had been the service, that only thirty horses were left out of seventy-four in his company, and Walter and two others were the sole survivors among eight who occupied the same tent. On the sixteenth of August, Walter was taken prisoner in a skirmish; and from the time that this news reached his parents, until the 18th of the following March, they could ascertain nothing of his fate. A general exchange of prisoners having been then effected, they learned that he had died on Christmas Day in Salisbury Prison, of hardship and privation. What these hardships were is, alas! easy to be known from those too well-authenticated accounts published by our government of the treatment experienced by our soldiers in the Rebel prisons. Robbed of clothing, of money, of the soldier's best friend, his sheltering blanket,--herded in shivering nakedness on the bare ground,--deprived of every implement by which men of energy and spirit had soon bettered their lot,--forbidden to cut in adjacent forests branches for shelter, or fuel to cook their coarse food,--fed on a pint of corn-and-cob-meal per day, with some slight addition of molasses or rancid meat,--denied all mental resources, all letters from home, all writing to friends,--these men were cut off from the land of the living while yet they lived,--they were made to dwell in darkness as those that have been long dead. By such slow, lingering tortures,--such weary, wasting anguish and sickness of body and soul,--it was the infernal policy of the Rebel government either to wring from them an abjuration of their country, or by slow and steady draining away of the vital forces to render them forever unfit to serve in her armies. Walter's constitution bore four months of this usage, when death came to his release. A fellow sufferer, who was with him in his last hours, brought the account to his parents. Through all his terrible privations, even the lingering pains of slow starvation, Walter preserved his steady simplicity, his faith in God, and unswerving fidelity to the cause for which he was suffering. When the Rebels had kept the prisoners fasting for days, and then brought in delicacies to tempt their appetite, hoping thereby to induce them to desert their flag, he only answered, "I would rather be carried out in that dead-cart!" When told by some that he must steal from his fellow sufferers, as many did, in order to relieve the pangs of hunger, he answered, "No, I was not brought up to that!" And so when his weakened system would no longer receive the cobmeal which was his principal allowance, he set his face calmly towards death. He grew gradually weaker and weaker and fainter and fainter, and at last disease of the lungs set in, and it became apparent that the end was at hand. On Christmas Day, while thousands among us were bowing in our garlanded churches or surrounding festive tables, this young martyr lay on the cold, damp ground, watched over by his destitute friends, who sought to soothe his last hours with such scanty comforts as their utter poverty afforded,--raising his head on the block of wood which was his only pillow, and moistening his brow and lips with water, while his life ebbed slowly away, until about two o'clock, when he suddenly roused himself, stretched out his hand, and, drawing to him his dearest friend among those around him, said, in a strong, clear voice:-- "I am going to die. Go tell my father I am ready to die, for I die for God and my country,"--and, looking up with a triumphant smile, he passed to the reward of the faithful. And now, men and brethren, if this story were a single one, it were worthy to be had in remembrance; but Walter Raymond is not the only noble-hearted boy or man that has been slowly tortured and starved and done to death, by the fiendish policy of Jefferson Davis and Robert Edmund Lee. No,--wherever this simple history shall be read, there will arise hundreds of men and women who will testify, "Just so died my son!" "So died my brother!" "So died my husband!" "So died my father!" The numbers who have died in these lingering tortures are to be counted, not by hundreds, or even by thousands, but by tens of thousands. And is there to be no retribution for a cruelty so vast, so aggravated, so cowardly and base? And if there is retribution, on whose head should it fall? Shall we seize and hang the poor, ignorant, stupid, imbruted semi-barbarians who were set as jailers to keep these hells of torment and inflict these insults and cruelties? or shall we punish the educated, intelligent chiefs who were the head and brain of the iniquity? If General Lee had been determined not to have prisoners starved or abused, does any one doubt that he could have prevented these things? Nobody doubts it. His raiment is red with the blood of his helpless captives. Does any one doubt that Jefferson Davis, living in ease and luxury in Richmond, knew that men were dying by inches in filth and squalor and privation in the Libby Prison, within bowshot of his own door? Nobody doubts it. It was his will, his deliberate policy, thus to destroy those who fell into his hands. The chief of a so-called Confederacy, who could calmly consider among his official documents incendiary plots for the secret destruction of ships, hotels, and cities full of peaceable people, is a chief well worthy to preside over such cruelties; but his only just title is President of Assassins, and the whole civilized world should make common cause against such a miscreant. There has been, on both sides of the water, much weak, ill-advised talk of mercy and magnanimity to be extended to these men, whose crimes have produced a misery so vast and incalculable. The wretches who have tortured the weak and the helpless, who have secretly plotted to supplement, by dastardly schemes of murder and arson, that strength which failed them in fair fight, have been commiserated as brave generals and unfortunate patriots, and efforts are made to place them within the comities of war. It is no feeling of personal vengeance, but a sense of the eternal fitness of things, that makes us rejoice, when criminals who have so outraged every sentiment of humanity are arrested and arraigned and awarded due retribution at the bar of their country's justice. There are crimes against God and human nature which it is treason alike to God and man not to punish; and such have been the crimes of the traitors who were banded together in Richmond. If there be those whose hearts lean to pity, we can show them where all the pity of their hearts may be better bestowed than in deploring the woes of assassins. Let them think of the thousands of fathers, mothers, wives, sisters, whose lives will be forever haunted with memories of the slow tortures in which their best and bravest were done to death. The sufferings of those brave men are ended. Nearly a hundred thousand are sleeping in those sad nameless graves,--and may their rest be sweet! "There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary be at rest. There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor." But, O ye who have pity to spare, spare it for the broken-hearted friends, who, to life's end, will suffer over and over all that their dear ones endured. Pity the mothers who hear their sons' faint calls in dreams, who in many a weary night-watch see them pining and wasting, and yearn with a lifelong, unappeasable yearning to have been able to soothe those forsaken, lonely death-beds. O man or woman, if you have pity to spare, spend it not on Lee or Davis,--spend it on their victims, on the thousands of living hearts which these men of sin have doomed to an anguish that will end only with life! Blessed are the mothers whose sons passed in battle,--a quick, a painless, a glorious death! Blessed in comparison,--yet we weep for them. We rise up and give place at sight of their mourning-garments. We reverence the sanctity of their sorrow. But before this other sorrow we are dumb in awful silence. We find no words with which to console such grief. We feel that our peace, our liberties, have been bought at a fearful price, when we think of the sufferings of our martyred soldiers. Let us think of them. It was for _us_ they bore hunger and cold and nakedness. They might have had food and raiment and comforts, if they would have deserted our cause,--and they did not. Cut off from all communication with home or friends or brethren, dragging on the weary months, apparently forgotten,--still they would not yield, they would not fight against us; and so for us at last they died. What return can we make them? Peace has come, and we take up all our blessings restored and brightened; but if we look, we shall see on every blessing a bloody cross. When three brave men broke through the ranks of the enemy, to bring to King David a draught from the home well, for which he longed, the generous-hearted prince would not drink it, but poured it out as an offering before the Lord; for he said, "Is not this the blood of the men that went in jeopardy of their lives?" Thousands of noble hearts have been slowly consumed to secure to us the blessings we are rejoicing in. We owe a duty to these our martyrs,--the only one we can pay. In every place, honored by such a history and example, let a monument be raised at the public expense, on which shall be inscribed the names of those who died for their country, and the manner of their death. Such monuments will educate our young men in heroic virtue, and keep alive to future ages the flame of patriotism. And thus, too, to the aching heart of bereaved love shall be given the only consolation of which its sorrows admit, in the reverence which is paid to its lost loved ones. OUR SECOND GIRL Our establishment on Beacon Street had been for some days in a revolutionary state, owing to the fact that our second girl had gone from us into the holy estate of matrimony. Alice was a pretty, tidy, neat-handed creature, and, like many other blessings of life, so good as to be little appreciated while with us. It was not till she had left us that we began to learn that clean glass, bright silver, spotless and untumbled table-linen, and, in short, all the appetizing arrangements and appointments of our daily meals, were not always and in all hands matters of course. In a day or two, our silver began to have the appearance of old pewter, and our glass looked as if nothing but muddy water could be found. On coming down to our meals, we found the dishes in all sorts of conversational attitudes on the table,--the meat placed diagonally, the potatoes crosswise, and the other vegetables scattered here and there,--while the table itself stood rakishly aslant, and wore the air of a table slightly intoxicated. Our beautiful china, moreover, began to have little chipped places in the edges, most unusual and distressing to our eyes; the handles vanished from our teacups, and here and there a small mouthful appeared to be bitten out of the nose of some pretty fancy pitchers, which had been the delight of my eyes. Now, if there is anything which I specially affect, it is a refined and pretty table arrangement, and at our house for years and years such had prevailed. All of us had rather a weakness for china, and the attractions of the fragile world, as presented in the great crockery-stores, had been many times too much for our prudence and purse. Consequently we had all sorts of little domestic idols of the breakfast and dinner table,--Bohemian-glass drinking-mugs of antique shape, lovely bits of biscuit choicely moulded in classic patterns, beauties, oddities, and quaintnesses in the way of especial teacups and saucers, devoted to different members of the family, wherein each took a particular and individual delight. Our especial china or glass pets of the table often started interesting conversations on the state of the plastic arts as applied to every-day life, and the charm of being encircled, even in the material act of feeding our mortal bodies, with a sort of halo of art and beauty. All this time none of us ever thought in how great degree our feeling for elegance and refinement owed its gratification at the hour of meals to the care, the tidiness, and neat handling of our now lost and wedded Alice. Nothing presents so forlorn an appearance as battered and neglected finery of any kind; and elegant pitchers with their noses knocked off, cut glass with cracked edges, and fragments of artistic teacups and saucers on a tumbled tablecloth, have a peculiarly dismal appearance. In fact, we had really occasion to wonder at the perfectly weird and bewitched effect which one of our two Hibernian successors to the pretty Alice succeeded in establishing in our table department. Every caprice in the use and employment of dishes, short of serving cream in the gravy-boats and using the sugar-bowl for pickled oysters and the cream-pitcher for vinegar, seemed possible and permissible. My horror was completed one morning on finding a china hen, artistically represented as brooding on a nest, made to cover, not boiled eggs, but a lot of greasy hash, over which she sat so that her head and tail bewilderingly projected beyond the sides of the nest, instead of keeping lengthwise within it, as a respectable hen in her senses might be expected to do. There certainly is a great amount of native vigor shown by these untrained Hibernians in always finding an unexpected wrong way of doing the simplest thing. It quite enlarges one's ideas of human possibilities. In a paroxysm of vexation, I reviled matrimony and Murphy O'Connor, who had stolen our household treasure, and further expressed my griefs, as elder sons are apt to do, by earnest expostulations with the maternal officer on the discouraging state of things; declaring most earnestly, morning, noon, and night, that all was going to ruin, that everything was being spoiled, that nothing was even decent, and that, if things went on so much longer, I should be obliged to go out and board,--by which style of remark I nearly drove that long-suffering woman frantic. "Do be reasonable, Tom," said she. "Can I make girls to order? Can I do anything more than try such as apply, when they seem to give promise of success? Delicacy of hand, neatness, nicety of eye, are not things likely to be cultivated in the Irish boarding-houses from which our candidates emerge. What chance have the most of them had to learn anything except the most ordinary rough housework? A trained girl is rare as a nugget of gold amid the sands of the washings; but let us persevere in trying, and one will come at last." "Well, I hope, at any rate, you have sent off that Bridget," I said, in high disdain. "I verily believe, if that girl stays a week longer, I shall have to leave the house." "Compose yourself," said my mother; "Bridget's bundle is made up, and she is going. I'm sorry for her too, poor thing; for she seemed anxious to keep the place." At this moment the doorbell rang. "I presume that's the new girl whom they have sent round for me to see," said my mother. I opened the door, and there in fact stood a girl dressed in a neat-fitting dark calico, with a straw bonnet, simply tied with some dark ribbon, and a veil which concealed her face. "Is Mrs. Seymour at home?" "She is." "I was told that she wanted a girl." "She does; will you walk in?" I pique myself somewhat on the power of judging character, and there was something about this applicant which inspired hope; so that, before I introduced her into the room, I felt it necessary to enlighten my mother with a little of my wisdom. I therefore whispered in her ear, with the decisive tone of an eldest son, "I think, mother, this one will do; you had better engage her at once." "Have you lived out much?" said my mother, commencing the usual inquiries. "I have not, ma'am. I am but lately come to the city." "Are you Irish?" "No, ma'am; I am American." "Have you been accustomed to the care of the table,--silver, glass, and china?" "I think, ma'am, I understand what is necessary for that." All this while the speaker remained standing with her veil down; her answers seemed to be the briefest possible; and yet, notwithstanding the homely plainness of her dress, there was something about her that impressed both my mother and me with an idea of cultivation and refinement above her apparent station,--there was a composure and quiet decision in her manner of speaking which produced the same impression on us both. "What wages do you expect?" said my mother. "Whatever you have been accustomed to give to a girl in that place will satisfy me," she said. "There is only one thing I would like to ask," she added, with a slight hesitation and embarrassment of manner; "would it be convenient for me to have a room by myself?" I nodded to my mother to answer in the affirmative. The three girls who composed our establishment had usually roomed in one large apartment, but there was a small closet of a room which I had taken for books, fishing-rods, guns, and any miscellaneous property of my own. I mentally turned these out, and devoted the room to the newcomer, whose appearance interested me. And, as my mother hesitated, I remarked, with the assured tone of master of the house, that "certainly she could have a small room to herself." "It is all I ask," she briefly answered. "In that case, I will come for the same wages you paid the last girl in my situation." "When will you come?" said my mother. "I am ready to come immediately. I only want time to go and order my things to be sent here." She rose and left us, saying that we might expect her that afternoon. "Well, sir," said my mother, "you seem to have taken it upon you to settle this matter on your own authority." "My dear little mother," said I, in a patronizing tone, "I have an instinctive certainty that she will do. I wanted to make sure of a prize for you." "But the single room." "Never mind; I'll move all my traps out of the little third-story room. It's my belief that this girl or woman has seen better days; and if she has, a room to herself will be a necessity of her case,--poor thing!" "I don't know," said my mother hesitatingly. "I never wish to employ in my service those above their station,--they always make trouble; and there is something in this woman's air and manner and pronunciation that makes me feel as if she had been born and bred in cultivated society." "Supposing she has," said I; "it's quite evident that she, for some reason, means to conform to this position. You seldom have a girl apply for work who comes dressed with such severe simplicity; her manner is retiring, and she seemed perfectly willing and desirous to undertake any of the things which you mentioned as among her daily tasks." On the afternoon of that day our new assistant came, and my mother was delighted with the way she set herself at work. The china-closet, desecrated and disordered in the preceding reigns of terror and confusion, immediately underwent a most quiet but thorough transformation. Everything was cleaned, brightened, and arranged with a system and thoroughness which showed, as my mother remarked, a good head; and all this was done so silently and quietly that it seemed like magic. By the time we came down to breakfast the next morning, we perceived that the reforms of our new prime minister had extended everywhere. The dining-room was clean, cool, thoroughly dusted, and freshly aired; the tablecloth and napkins were smooth and clean; the glass glittered like crystal, and the silver wore a cheerful brightness. Added to this were some extra touches of refinement, which I should call table coquetry. The cold meat was laid out with green fringes of parsley; and a bunch of heliotrope, lemon verbena, and mignonette, with a fresh rosebud, all culled from our little back yard, stood in a wineglass on my mother's waiter. "Well, Mary, you have done wonders," said my mother, as she took her place; "your arrangements restore appetite to all of us." Mary received our praises with a gracious smile, yet with a composed gravity which somewhat puzzled me. She seemed perfectly obliging and amiable, yet there was a serious reticence about her that quite piqued my curiosity. I could not help recurring to the idea of a lady in disguise; though I scarcely knew to what circumstance about her I could attach the idea. So far from the least effort to play the lady, her dress was, in homely plainness, a perfect contrast to that of the girls who had preceded her. It consisted of strong dark-blue stuff, made perfectly plain to her figure, with a narrow band of white linen around her throat. Her dark brown hair was brushed smoothly away from her face, and confined simply behind in a net; there was not the slightest pretension to coquetry in its arrangement; in fact, the object seemed to be to get it snugly out of the way, rather than to make it a matter of ornament. Nevertheless, I could not help remarking that there was a good deal of it, and that it waved very prettily, notwithstanding the care that had been taken to brush the curl out of it. She was apparently about twenty years of age. Her face was not handsome, but it was a refined and intelligent one. The skin had a sallow hue, which told of ill health or of misfortune; there were lines of trouble about the eye; but the mouth and chin had that unmistakable look of firmness which speaks a person able and resolved to do a quiet battle with adverse fate, and to go through to the end with whatever is needed to be done, without fretfulness and without complaint. She had large, cool, gray eyes, attentive and thoughtful, and she met the look of any one who addressed her with an honest firmness; she seemed to be, in fact, simply and only interested to know and to do the work she had undertaken,--but what there might be behind and beyond that I could not conjecture. One thing about her dress most in contrast with that of the other servants was that she evidently wore no crinoline. The exuberance of this article in the toilet of our domestics had become threatening of late, apparently requiring that the kitchens and pantries should be torn down and rebuilt. As matters were, our three girls never could be in our kitchen at one time without reefings and manoeuvrings of their apparel which much impeded any other labor, and caused some loss of temper; and our china-closet was altogether too small for the officials who had to wash the china there, and they were constantly at odds with my mother for her firmness in resisting their tendency to carry our china and silver to the general mélée of the kitchen sink. Moreover, our dining-room not having been constructed with an eye to modern expansions of the female toilet, it happened that, if our table was to be enlarged for guests, there arose serious questions of the waiter's crinoline to complicate the calculations; and for all these reasons, I was inclined to look with increasing wonder on a being in female form who could so far defy the tyranny of custom as to dress in a convenient and comfortable manner, adapted to the work which she undertook to perform. A good-looking girl without crinoline had a sort of unworldly freshness of air that really constituted a charm. If it had been a piece of refined coquetry,--as certainly it was not,--it could not have been better planned. Nothing could be more perfectly proper than the demeanor of this girl in relation to all the proprieties of her position. She seemed to give her whole mind to it with an anxious exactness; but she appeared to desire no relations with the family other than those of a mere business character. It was impossible to draw her into conversation. If a good-natured remark was addressed to her on any subject such as in kindly disposed families is often extended as an invitation to a servant to talk a little with an employer, Mary met it with the briefest and gravest response that was compatible with propriety, and with a definite and marked respectfulness of demeanor which had precisely the effect of throwing us all at a distance, like ceremonious politeness in the intercourse of good society. "I cannot make out our Mary," said I to my mother; "she is a perfect treasure, but who or what do you suppose she is?" "I cannot tell you," said my mother. "All I know is, she understands her business perfectly, and does it exactly; but she no more belongs to the class of common servants than I do." "Does she associate with the other girls?" "Not at all--except at meal-times, and when about her work." "I should think that would provoke the pride of sweet Erin," said I. "One would think so," said my mother; "but she certainly has managed her relations with them with a curious kind of tact. She always treats them with perfect consideration and politeness, talks with them during the times that they necessarily are thrown together in the most affable and cheerful manner, and never assumes any airs of supremacy with them. Her wanting a room to herself gave them at first an idea that she would hold herself aloof from them, and in fact, for the first few days, there was a subterranean fire in the kitchen ready to burst forth; but now all that is past, and in some way or other, without being in the least like any of them, she has contrived to make them her fast friends. I found her last night in the kitchen writing a letter for the cook, and the other day she was sitting in her room trimming a bonnet for Katy; and her opinion seems to be law in the kitchen. She seldom sits there, and spends most of her leisure in her own room, which is as tidy as a bee's cell." "What is she doing there?" "Reading, sewing, and writing, as far as I can see. There are a few books, and a portfolio, and a small inkstand there,--and a neat little work-basket. She is very nice with her needle, and obliging in putting her talents to the service of the other girls; but towards me she is the most perfectly silent and reserved being that one can conceive. I can't make conversation with her; she keeps me off by a most rigid respectfulness of demeanor which seems to say that she wants nothing from me but my orders. I feel that I could no more ask her a question about her private affairs, than I could ask one of Mrs. McGregor in the next street. But then it is a comfort to have some one so entirely trustworthy as she is in charge of all the nice little articles which require attention and delicate handling. She is the only girl I ever had whom I could trust to arrange a parlor and a table without any looking after. Her eye and hand, and her ideas, are certainly those of a lady, whatever her position may have been." In time our Mary became quite a family institution for us, seeming to fill a thousand little places in the domestic arrangement where a hand or an eye was needed. She was deft at mending glass and china, and equally so at mending all sorts of household things. She darned the napkins and tablecloths in a way that excited my mother's admiration, and was always so obliging and ready to offer her services that, in time, a resort to Mary's work-basket and ever ready needle became the most natural thing in the world to all of us. She seemed to have no acquaintance in the city, never went out visiting, received no letters,--in short, seemed to live a completely isolated life, and to dwell in her own thoughts in her own solitary little room. By that talent for systematic arrangement which she possessed, she secured for herself a good many hours to spend there. My mother, seeing her taste for reading, offered her the use of our books; and one volume after another spent its quiet week or fortnight in her room, and returned to our shelves in due time. They were mostly works of solid information,--history, travels,--and a geography and atlas which had formed part of the school outfit of one of the younger children she seemed interested to retain for some time. "It is my opinion," said my mother, "that she is studying,--perhaps with a view to getting some better situation." "Pray keep her with us," said I, "if you can. Why don't you raise her wages? You know that she does more than any other girl ever did before in her place, and is so trustworthy that she is invaluable to us. Persons of her class are worth higher wages than common uneducated servants." My mother accordingly did make a handsome addition to Mary's wages, and by the time she had been with us a year the confidence which her quiet manner had inspired was such that, if my mother wished to be gone for a day or two, the house, with all that was in it, was left trustingly in Mary's hands, as with a sort of housekeeper. She was charged with all the last directions, as well as the keys to the jellies, cakes, and preserves, with discretionary power as to their use; and yet, for some reason, such was the ascendency she contrived to keep over her Hibernian friends in the kitchen, all this confidence evidently seemed to them quite as proper as to us. "She ain't quite like us," said Biddy one day, mysteriously, as she looked after her. "She's seen better days, or I'm mistaken; but she don't take airs on her. She knows how to take the bad luck quiet like, and do the best she can." "Has she ever told you anything of herself, Biddy?" said my mother. "Me? No. It's a quiet tongue she keeps in her head. She is ready enough to do good turns for us, and to smooth out our ways, and hear our stories, but it's close in her own affairs she is. Maybe she don't like to be talkin', when talkin' does no good,--poor soul!" Matters thus went on, and I amused myself now and then with speculating about Mary. I would sometimes go to her to ask some of those little charities of the needle which our sex are always needing from feminine hands; but never, in the course of any of these little transactions, could I establish the slightest degree of confidential communication. If she sewed on a shirt-button, she did it with as abstracted an air as if my arm were a post which she was required to handle, and not the arm of a good-looking youth of twenty-five,--as I fondly hoped I was. And certain remarks which I once addressed to her in regard to her studies and reading in her own apartment were met with that cool, wide-open gaze of her calm gray eyes, that seemed to say, "Pray, what is that to your purpose, sir?" and she merely answered, "Is there anything else that you would like me to do, sir?" with a marked deference that was really defiant. But one day I fancied I had got hold of a clue. I was standing in our lower front hall, when I saw young McPherson, whom I used to know in New York, coming up the doorsteps. At the moment that he rung the doorbell, our Mary, who had seen him from the chamber window, suddenly grew pale, and said to my mother, "Please, ma'am, will you be so good as to excuse my going to the door? I feel faint." My mother spoke over the banisters, and I opened the door, and let in McPherson. He and I were jolly together, as old classmates are wont to be, and orders were given to lay a plate for him at dinner. Mary prepared the service with her usual skill and care, but pleaded that her illness increased so that it would be impossible for her to wait on table. Now, nobody in the house thought there was anything peculiar about this but myself. My mother, indeed, had noticed that Mary's faintness had come on very suddenly, as she looked out on the street; but it was I who suggested to her that McPherson might have some connection with it. "Depend upon it, mother, he is somebody whom she has known in her former life, and doesn't wish to meet," said I. "Nonsense, Tom; you are always getting up mysteries, and fancying romances." Nevertheless, I took a vicious pleasure in experimenting on the subject; and therefore, a day or two after, when I had got Mary fairly within eye-range, as she waited on table, I remarked to my mother carelessly, "By the bye, the McPhersons are coming to Boston to live." There was a momentary jerk of Mary's hand, as she was filling a tumbler, and then I could see the restraint of self-command passing all over her. I had hit something, I knew; so I pursued my game. "Yes," I continued, "Jim is here to look at houses; he is thinking strongly of one in the next block." There was a look of repressed fear and distress on Mary's face as she hastily turned away, and made an errand into the china-closet. "I have found a clue," I said to my mother triumphantly, going to her room after dinner. "Did you notice Mary's agitation when I spoke of the McPhersons coming to Boston? By Jove! but the girl is plucky, though; it was the least little start, and in a minute she had her visor down and her armor buckled. This certainly becomes interesting." "Tom, I certainly must ask you what business it is of yours," said my mother, settling back into the hortatory attitude familiar to mothers. "Supposing the thing is as you think,--suppose that Mary is a girl of refinement and education, who, from some unfortunate reason, has no resource but her present position,--why should you hunt her out of it? If she is, as you think, a lady, there is the strongest reason why a gentleman should respect her feelings. I fear the result of all this restless prying and intermeddling of yours will be to drive her away; and really, now I have had her, I don't know how I ever could do without her. People talk of female curiosity," said my mother, with a slightly belligerent air; "I never found but men had fully as much curiosity as women. Now, what will become of us all if your restlessness about this should be the means of Mary's leaving us? You know the perfectly dreadful times we had before she came, and I don't know anybody who has less patience to bear such things than you." In short, my mother was in that positive state of mind which is expressed by the colloquial phrase of being on her high horse. I--as the male part of creation always must in such cases--became very meek and retiring, and promised to close my eyes and ears, and not dream, or think, or want to know, anything which it was not agreeable to Mary and my mother that I should. I would not look towards the doorbell, nor utter a word about the McPhersons, who, by the bye, decided to take the house in our neighborhood. But though I was as exemplary as one of the saints, it did no good. Mary, for some reasons known to herself, became fidgety, nervous, restless, and had frequent headaches and long crying spells in her own private apartment, after the manner of women when something is the matter with them. My mother was, as she always is with every creature in her employ, maternal and sympathetic, and tried her very best to get into her confidence. Mary only confessed to feeling a little unwell, and hinted obscurely that perhaps she should be obliged to leave the place. But it was quite evident that her leaving was connected with the near advent of the McPhersons in the next block; for I observed that she always showed some little irrepressible signs of nervousness whenever that subject was incidentally alluded to. Finally, on the day that their furniture began to arrive, and to provide abundant material for gossip and comment to the other members of the kitchen cabinet, Mary's mind appeared suddenly made up. She came into my mother's room looking as a certain sort of women do when they have made a resolution which they mean to stand by,--very pale, very quiet, and very decided. She asked to see my mother alone, and in that interview she simply expressed gratitude for all her kindness to her, but said that circumstances would oblige her to go to New York. My mother now tried her best to draw from her her history, whatever that might be. She spoke with tact and tenderness, and with the respect due from one human being to another; for my mother always held that every soul has its own inviolable private door which it has a right to keep closed, and at which even queens and duchesses, if they wish to enter, must knock humbly and reverently. Mary was almost overcome by her kindness. She thanked her over and over; at times my mother said she looked at her wistfully, as if on the very point of speaking, and then, quietly gathering herself within herself, she remained silent. All that could be got from her was, that it was necessary for her hereafter to live in New York. The servants in the kitchen, with the warm-heartedness of their race, broke out into a perfect Irish howl of sorrow; and at the last moment, Biddy, our fat cook, fell on her neck and lifted up her voice and wept, almost smothering her with her tumultuous embraces; and the whole party of them would go with her to the New York station, one carrying her shawl, another her hand-bag and parasol, with emulous affection; and so our very pleasant and desirable second girl disappeared, and we saw her no more. Six months after this, when our Mary had become only a memory of the past, I went to spend a week or two in Newport, and took, among other matters and things, a letter of introduction to Mrs. McIntyre, a Scotch lady, who had just bought a pretty cottage there, and, as my friend who gave it told me, would prove an interesting acquaintance. "She has a pretty niece," said he, "who I'm told is heiress to her property, and is called a very nice girl." So, at the proper time, I lounged in one morning, and found a very charming, cosy, home-like parlor, arranged with all those little refined touches and artistic effects by which people of certain tastes and habits at once recognize each other in all parts of the world, as by the tokens of freemasonry. I felt perfectly acquainted with Mrs. McIntyre from the first glance at her parlor,--where the books, the music, the birds, the flowers, and that everlasting variety of female small-work prepared me for a bright, chatty, easy-going, home-loving kind of body, such as I found Mrs. McIntyre to be. She was, as English and Scotch ladies are apt to be, very oddly dressed in very nice and choice articles. It takes the eye of the connoisseur to appreciate these oddly dressed Englishwomen. They are like antique china; but a discriminating eye soon sees the real quality that underlies their quaint adornment. Mrs. McIntyre was scrupulously, exquisitely neat. All her articles of dress were of the choicest quality. The yellow and tumbled lace that was fussed about her neck and wrists might have been the heirloom of a countess; her satin gown, though very short and very scanty, was of a fabulous richness; and the rings that glittered on her withered hands were of the fashion of two centuries ago, but of wonderful brilliancy. She was very gracious in her reception, as my letter was from an old friend, and said many obliging things of me; so I was taken at once to her friendship, with the frankness characteristic of people of her class when they make up their minds to know you at all. "I must introduce you to my Mary," she said; "she has just gone into the garden to cut flowers for the vases." In a moment more "Mary" entered the room, with a little white apron full of flowers, and a fresh bloom on her cheeks; and I was--as the reader has already anticipated--to my undisguised amazement, formally introduced to Miss Mary McIntyre, our second girl. Of all things for which I consider women admirable, there is no trait which fills me with such positive awe as their social tact and self-command. Evidently this meeting was quite as unexpected to Mary as to me; but except for a sudden flash of amused astonishment in the eyes, and a becoming flush of complexion, she met me as any thoroughbred young lady meets a young man properly presented by her maternal guardian. For my part, I had one of those dreamy periods of existence in which people doubt whether they are awake or asleep. The world seemed all turning topsy-turvy. I was filled with curiosity, which I could with difficulty keep within the limits of conventional propriety. "I see, Mr. Seymour, that you are very much astonished," said Mary to me, when Mrs. McIntyre had left the room to give some directions to the servants. "Upon my word," said I, "I never was more so; I feel as if I were in the midst of a fairy tale." "Nothing so remarkable as that," she said. "But since I saw you, a happy change, as I need not tell you now, has come over my life through the coming of my mother's sister to America. When my mother died, my aunt was in India. The letters that I addressed to her in Scotland were a long time in reaching her, and then it took a long time for her to wind up her affairs there, and find her way to this country." "But," said I, "what could"-- "What could induce me to do as I did? Well, I knew your mother's character,--no matter how. I needed a support and protection, and I resolved for a time to put myself under her wing. I knew that in case of any real trouble I should find in her a true friend and a safe adviser, and I hoped to earn her esteem and confidence by steadily doing my duty. Some other time, perhaps, I will tell you more," she added. The return of Mrs. McIntyre put an end to our private communication, but she insisted, with true old-world hospitality, on my remaining to dinner. Here I was precipitated into a romance at once. Mary had just enough of that perverse feminine pleasure in teasing to keep my interest alive. The fact was, she saw me becoming entangled from day to day without any more misgivings of conscience than the celebrated spider of the poem felt when she invited the fly to walk into her parlor. Mrs. McIntyre took me in a very marked way into her good graces, and I had every opportunity to ride, walk, sketch, and otherwise to attend upon Mary; and Mary was gracious also, but so quietly and discreetly mistress of herself that I could not for the life of me tell what to make of her. There were all sorts of wonders and surmises boiling up within me. What was it about McPherson? Was there anything there? Was Mary engaged? Or was there any old affair? etc., etc. Not that it was any business of mine; but then a fellow likes to know his ground before--Before _what_? I thought to myself, and that unknown WHAT every day assumed new importance in my eyes. Mary had many admirers. Her quiet, easy, self-possessed manners, her perfect tact and grace, always made her a favorite; but I could not help hoping that between her and me there was that confidential sense of a mutually kept secret which it is delightful to share with the woman you wish to please. Why won't women sometimes enlighten a fellow a little in this dark valley that lies between intimate acquaintance and the awful final proposal? To be sure, there are kind souls who will come more than halfway to meet you, but they are always sure to be those you don't want to meet. The woman you want is always as reticent as a nut, and leaves you the whole work of this last dread scene without a bit of help on her part. To be sure, she smiles on you; but what of that? You see she smiles also on Tom, Dick, and Harry. "Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike; And, like the sun, they shine on all alike." I fought out a battle of two or three weeks with my fair foe, trying to get in advance some hint from her as to what she would do with me if I put myself at her mercy. No use. Our sex may as well give up first as last before one of these quiet, resolved, little pieces of femininity, who are perfect mistresses of all the peculiar weapons, defensive and offensive, of womanhood. There was nothing for it but to surrender at discretion; but when I had done this, I was granted all the honors of war. Mrs. McIntyre received me with an old-fashioned maternal blessing, and all was as happy as possible. "And now," said Mary, "I suppose, sir, you will claim a right to know all about me." "Something of the sort," I said complacently. "I know you have been dying of curiosity ever since I was waiting behind your lordship's chair at your mother's. I knew you suspected something then,--confess now." "But what could have led you there?" "Just hear. My mother, who was Mrs. McIntyre's sister, had by a first marriage only myself. Shortly after my father's death, she married a widower with several children. As long as she lived, I never knew what want or care or trouble was; but just as I was entering upon my seventeenth year she died. A year after her death, my stepfather, who was one of those men devoted to matrimony at all hazards, married another woman, by whom he had children. "In a few years more, he died; and his affairs, on examination, proved to be in a very bad state; there was, in fact, scarcely anything for us to live on. Our stepmother had a settlement from her brother. The two other daughters of my father were married, and went to houses of their own; and I was left, related really to nobody, without property and without home. "I suppose hundreds of young girls are from one reason or other left just in this way, and have, without any previous preparation in their education and habits, to face the question, How can I get a living? "I assure you it is a serious question for a young girl who has grown up in the easy manner in which I had. My stepfather had always been a cheery, kindly, generous man, one of those who love to see people enjoy themselves, and to have things done handsomely, and had kept house in a free, abundant, hospitable manner; so that when I came to look myself over in relation to the great uses of life, I could make out very little besides expensive tastes and careless habits. "I had been to the very best schools, but then I had studied, as most girls in easy circumstances do, without a thought of using my knowledge for any practical purpose. I could speak very fair English; but how I did it, or why, I didn't know,--all the technical rules of grammar had passed from my head like a dream. I could play a little on the piano, and sing a few songs; but I did not know enough of music to venture to propose myself as a teacher; and so with every other study. All the situations of profit in the profession of teaching are now crowded and blocked by girls who have been studying for that express object,--and what could I hope among them? "My mother-in-law was a smart, enterprising, driving woman of the world, who told all her acquaintance that, of course, she should give me a home, although I was no kind of relation to her, and who gave me to understand that I was under infinite obligations to her on this account, and must pay for the privilege by making myself generally useful. I soon found that this meant doing a servant's work without wages. During six months I filled, I may say, the place of a seamstress and nursery governess to some very ungoverned children, varying with occasional weeks of servant's work, when either the table girl or the cook left a place vacant. For all this I received my board, and some cast-off dresses and underclothes to make over for myself. I was tired of this, and begged my stepmother to find me some place where I could earn my own living. She was astonished and indignant at the demand. When Providence had provided me a good home, under respectable protection, she said, why should I ask to leave it? For her part, she thought the situation of a young lady making herself generally useful in domestic life, in the family of her near connections, was a delightful one. She had no words to say how much more respectable and proper it was thus to live in the circle of family usefulness and protection, than to go out in the world looking for employment. "I did not suggest to her that the chief difference in the cases would be, that in a hired situation I should have regular wages and regular work; whereas in my present position it was irregular work, and no wages. "Her views on the subject were perhaps somewhat beclouded by the extreme convenience she found in being able to go into company, and to range about the city at all hours, unembarrassed by those family cares which generally fall to the mistress, but which her views of what constituted general usefulness devolved upon me. "I had no retirement, no leisure, no fixed place anywhere. My bed was in the nursery, where the children felt always free to come and go; and even this I was occasionally requested to resign, to share the couch of the housemaid, when sickness in the family or a surplus of guests caused us to be crowded for room. "I grew very unhappy, my health failed, and the demands upon me were entirely beyond my strength, and without any consideration. The doer of all the odds and ends in a family has altogether the most work and least praise of any, as I discovered to my cost. I found one thing after another falling into my long list of appointed duties, by a regular progress. Thus first it would be, 'Mary, won't you see to the dusting of the parlors? for Bridget is'--etc., etc.; this would be the form for a week or two, and then, 'Mary, have you dusted the parlors?' and at last, 'Mary, why have you not dusted the parlors?' "As I said, I never studied anything to practical advantage; and though I had been through arithmetic and algebra, I had never made any particular use of my knowledge. But now, under the influence of misfortune, my thoughts took an arithmetical turn. By inquiring among the servants, I found that, in different families in the neighborhood, girls were receiving three dollars a week for rendering just such services as mine. Here was a sum of a hundred and fifty-six dollars yearly, in ready money, put into their hands, besides their board, the privilege of knowing their work exactly, and having a control of their own time when certain definite duties were performed. Compared with what I was doing and receiving, this was riches and ease and rest. "After all, I thought to myself, why should not I find some respectable, superior, motherly woman, and put myself under her as a servant, make her my friend by good conduct, and have some regular hours and some definite income, instead of wearing out my life in service without pay? Nothing stood in my way but the traditionary shadow of gentility, and I resolved it should not stop me. "Years before, when I was only eight or ten years old, I had met your mother with your family at the seaside, where my mother took me. I had seen a great deal of her, and knew all about her. I remembered well her habitual consideration for the nurses and servants in her employ. I knew her address in Boston, and I resolved to try to find a refuge in her family. And so there is my story. I left a note with my stepmother, saying that I was going to seek independent employment, and then went to Boston to your house. There I hoped to find a quiet asylum,--at least, till I could hear from my aunt in Scotland. The delay of hearing from her during those two years at your house often made me low-spirited." "But what made you so afraid of McPherson?" said I nervously. "I remember your faintness, and all that, the day he called." "Oh, that? Why, it was merely this,--they were on intimate visiting terms with my mother-in-law, and I knew that it would be all up with my plans if they were to be often at the house." "Why didn't you tell my mother?" said I. "I did think of it, but then"--She gave me a curious glance. "But what, Mary?" "Well, I could see plainly enough that there were no secrets between you and her, and I did not wish to take so fine a young gentleman into my confidence," said Mary. "You will observe I was not out seeking flirtations, but an honest independence." * * * * * My mother was apprised of our engagement in due form, and came to Newport, all innocence, to call on Miss McIntyre, her intended daughter-in-law. Her astonishment at the moment of introduction was quite satisfactory to me. For the rest, Mary's talents in making a home agreeable have had since then many years of proof; and where any of the little domestic chasms appear which are formed by the shifting nature of the American working-class, she always slides into the place with a quiet grace, and reminds me, with a humorous twinkle of the eye, that she is used to being second girl. A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY "If we could only live in the country," said my wife, "how much easier it would be to live!" "And how much cheaper!" said I. "To have a little place of our own, and raise our own things!" said my wife. "Dear me! I am heartsick when I think of the old place at home, and father's great garden. What peaches and melons we used to have! what green peas and corn! Now one has to buy every cent's worth of these things--and how they taste! Such wilted, miserable corn! Such peas! Then, if we lived in the country, we should have our own cow, and milk and cream in abundance; our own hens and chickens. We could have custard and ice-cream every day." "To say nothing of the trees and flowers, and all that," said I. The result of this little domestic duet was that my wife and I began to ride about the city of ---- to look up some pretty, interesting cottage, where our visions of rural bliss might be realized. Country residences, near the city, we found to bear rather a high price; so that it was no easy matter to find a situation suitable to the length of our purse; till, at last, a judicious friend suggested a happy expedient. "Borrow a few hundred," he said, "and give your note; you can save enough, very soon, to make the difference. When you raise everything you eat, you know it will make your salary go a wonderful deal further." "Certainly it will," said I. "And what can be more beautiful than to buy places by the simple process of giving one's note?--'tis so neat, and handy, and convenient!" "Why," pursued my friend, "there is Mr. B., my next-door neighbor--'tis enough to make one sick of life in the city to spend a week out on his farm. Such princely living as one gets! And he assures me that it costs him very little--scarce anything perceptible, in fact." "Indeed!" said I; "few people can say that." "Why," said my friend, "he has a couple of peach-trees for every month, from June till frost, that furnish as many peaches as he, and his wife, and ten children can dispose of. And then he has grapes, apricots, etc.; and last year his wife sold fifty dollars' worth from her strawberry patch, and had an abundance for the table besides. Out of the milk of only one cow they had butter enough to sell three or four pounds a week, besides abundance of milk and cream; and madam has the butter for her pocket money. This is the way country people manage." "Glorious!" thought I. And my wife and I could scarcely sleep, all night, for the brilliancy of our anticipations! To be sure our delight was somewhat damped the next day by the coldness with which my good old uncle, Jeremiah Standfast, who happened along at precisely this crisis, listened to our visions. "You'll find it pleasant, children, in the summer time," said the hard-fisted old man, twirling his blue-checked pocket-handkerchief; "but I'm sorry you've gone in debt for the land." "Oh, but we shall soon save that--it's so much cheaper living in the country!" said both of us together. "Well, as to that, I don't think it is, to city-bred folks." Here I broke in with a flood of accounts of Mr. B.'s peach-trees, and Mrs. B.'s strawberries, butter, apricots, etc., etc.; to which the old gentleman listened with such a long, leathery, unmoved quietude of visage as quite provoked me, and gave me the worst possible opinion of his judgment. I was disappointed, too; for as he was reckoned one of the best practical farmers in the county, I had counted on an enthusiastic sympathy with all my agricultural designs. "I tell you what, children," he said, "a body can live in the country, as you say, amazin' cheap; but then a body must _know how_,"--and my uncle spread his pocket-handkerchief thoughtfully out upon his knees, and shook his head gravely. I thought him a terribly slow, stupid old body, and wondered how I had always entertained so high an opinion of his sense. "He is evidently getting old," said I to my wife; "his judgment is not what it used to be." At all events, our place was bought, and we moved out, well pleased, the first morning in April, not at all remembering the ill savor of that day for matters of wisdom. Our place was a pretty cottage, about two miles from the city, with grounds that had been tastefully laid out. There was no lack of winding paths, arbors, flower borders, and rosebushes, with which my wife was especially pleased. There was a little green lot, strolling off down to a brook, with a thick grove of trees at the end, where our cow was to be pastured. The first week or two went on happily enough in getting our little new pet of a house into trimness and good order; for as it had been long for sale, of course there was any amount of little repairs that had been left to amuse the leisure hours of the purchaser. Here a doorstep had given way, and needed replacing; there a shutter hung loose, and wanted a hinge; abundance of glass needed setting; and as to painting and papering, there was no end to that. Then my wife wanted a door cut here, to make our bedroom more convenient, and a china closet knocked up there, where no china closet before had been. We even ventured on throwing out a bay-window from our sitting-room, because we had luckily lighted on a workman who was so cheap that it was an actual saving of money to employ him. And to be sure our darling little cottage did lift up its head wonderfully for all this garnishing and furbishing. I got up early every morning, and nailed up the rosebushes, and my wife got up and watered geraniums, and both flattered ourselves and each other on our early hours and thrifty habits. But soon, like Adam and Eve in Paradise, we found our little domain to ask more hands than ours to get it into shape. So says I to my wife, "I will bring out a gardener when I come next time, and he shall lay the garden out, and get it into order; and after that I can easily keep it by the work of my leisure hours." Our gardener was a very sublime sort of man,--an Englishman, and of course used to laying out noblemen's places,--and we became as grasshoppers in our own eyes when he talked of Lord This and That's estate, and began to question us about our carriage drive and conservatory; and we could with difficulty bring the gentleman down to any understanding of the humble limits of our expectations; merely to dress out the walks, and lay out a kitchen garden, and plant potatoes, turnips, beets and carrots, was quite a descent for him. In fact, so strong were his æsthetic preferences, that he persuaded my wife to let him dig all the turf off from a green square opposite the bay window, and to lay it out into divers little triangles, resembling small pieces of pie, together with circles, mounds, and various other geometrical ornaments, the planning and planting of which soon engrossed my wife's whole soul. The planting of the potatoes, beets, carrots, etc., was intrusted to a raw Irishman; for as to me, to confess the truth, I began to fear that digging did not agree with me. It is true that I was exceedingly vigorous at first, and actually planted with my own hands two or three long rows of potatoes; after which I got a turn of rheumatism in my shoulder, which lasted me a week. Stooping down to plant beets and radishes gave me a vertigo, so that I was obliged to content myself with a general superintendence of the garden; that is to say, I charged my Englishman to see that my Irishman did his duty properly, and then got on to my horse and rode to the city. But about one part of the matter, I must say, I was not remiss; and that is, in the purchase of seed and garden utensils. Not a day passed that I did not come home with my pockets stuffed with choice seeds, roots, etc.; and the variety of my garden utensils was unequaled. There was not a priming hook of any pattern, not a hoe, rake, or spade great or small, that I did not have specimens of; and flower seeds and bulbs were also forthcoming in liberal proportions. In fact, I had opened an account at a thriving seed store; for when a man is driving business on a large scale, it is not always convenient to hand out the change for every little matter, and buying things on account is as neat and agreeable a mode of acquisition as paying bills with one's notes. "You know we must have a cow," said my wife, the morning of our second week. Our friend the gardener, who had now worked with us at the rate of two dollars a day for two weeks, was at hand in a moment in our emergency. We wanted to buy a cow, and he had one to sell--a wonderful cow, of a real English breed. He would not sell her for any money, except to oblige particular friends; but as we had patronized him, we should have her for forty dollars. How much we were obliged to him! The forty dollars were speedily forthcoming, and so also was the cow. "What makes her shake her head in that way?" said my wife, apprehensively, as she observed the interesting beast making sundry demonstrations with her horns. "I hope she's gentle." The gardener fluently demonstrated that the animal was a pattern of all the softer graces, and that this head-shaking was merely a little nervous affection consequent on the embarrassment of a new position. We had faith to believe almost anything at this time, and therefore came from the barn yard to the house as much satisfied with our purchase as Job with his three thousand camels and five hundred yoke of oxen. Her quondam master milked her for us the first evening, out of a delicate regard to her feelings as a stranger, and we fancied that we discerned forty dollars' worth of excellence in the very quality of the milk. But alas! the next morning our Irish girl came in with a most rueful face. "And is it milking that baste you'd have me be after?" she said; "sure, and she won't let me come near her." "Nonsense, Biddy!" said I; "you frightened her, perhaps; the cow is perfectly gentle;" and with the pail on my arm I sallied forth. The moment madam saw me entering the cow yard, she greeted me with a very expressive flourish of her horns. "This won't do," said I, and I stopped. The lady evidently was serious in her intentions of resisting any personal approaches. I cut a cudgel, and, putting on a bold face, marched towards her, while Biddy followed with her milking stool. Apparently the beast saw the necessity of temporizing, for she assumed a demure expression, and Biddy sat down to milk. I stood sentry, and if the lady shook her head I shook my stick; and thus the milking operation proceeded with tolerable serenity and success. "There!" said I, with dignity, when the frothing pail was full to the brim. "That will do, Biddy," and I dropped my stick. Dump! came madam's heel on the side of the pail, and it flew like a rocket into the air, while the milky flood showered plentifully over me, and a new broadcloth riding-coat that I had assumed for the first time that morning. "Whew!" said I, as soon as I could get my breath from this extraordinary shower bath; "what's all this?" My wife came running towards the cow yard, as I stood with the milk streaming from my hair, filling my eyes, and dropping from the tip of my nose; and she and Biddy performed a recitative lamentation over me in alternate strophes, like the chorus in a Greek tragedy. Such was our first morning's experience; but as we had announced our bargain with some considerable flourish of trumpets among our neighbors and friends, we concluded to hush the matter up as much as possible. "These very superior cows are apt to be cross," said I; "we must bear with it as we do with the eccentricities of genius; besides, when she gets accustomed to us, it will be better." Madam was therefore installed into her pretty pasture lot, and my wife contemplated with pleasure the picturesque effect of her appearance, reclining on the green slope of the pasture lot, or standing ankle deep in the gurgling brook, or reclining under the deep shadows of the trees. She was, in fact, a handsome cow, which may account, in part, for some of her sins; and this consideration inspired me with some degree of indulgence towards her foibles. But when I found that Biddy could never succeed in getting near her in the pasture, and that any kind of success in the milking operations required my vigorous personal exertions morning and evening, the matter wore a more serious aspect, and I began to feel quite pensive and apprehensive. It is very well to talk of the pleasures of the milkmaid going out in the balmy freshness of the purple dawn; but imagine a poor fellow pulled out of bed on a drizzly, rainy morning, and equipping himself for a scamper through a wet pasture lot, rope in hand, at the heels of such a termagant as mine! In fact, madam established a regular series of exercises, which had all to be gone through before she would suffer herself to be captured; as, first, she would station herself plump in the middle of a marsh, which lay at the lower part of the lot, and look very innocent and absent-minded, as if reflecting on some sentimental subject. "Suke! Suke! Suke!" I ejaculate, cautiously tottering along the edge of the marsh, and holding out an ear of corn. The lady looks gracious, and comes forward, almost within reach of my hand. I make a plunge to throw the rope over her horns, and away she goes, kicking up mud and water into my face in her flight, while I, losing my balance, tumble forward into the marsh. I pick myself up, and, full of wrath, behold her placidly chewing her cud on the other side, with the meekest air imaginable, as who should say, "I hope you are not hurt, sir." I dash through swamp and bog furiously, resolving to carry all by a _coup de main_. Then follows a miscellaneous season of dodging, scampering, and bopeeping, among the trees of the grove, interspersed with sundry occasional races across the bog aforesaid. I always wondered how I caught her every day; and when I had tied her head to one post and her heels to another, I wiped the sweat from my brow, and thought I was paying dear for the eccentricities of genius. A genius she certainly was, for besides her surprising agility, she had other talents equally extraordinary. There was no fence that she could not take down; nowhere that she could not go. She took the pickets off the garden fence at her pleasure, using her horns as handily as I could use a claw hammer. Whatever she had a mind to, whether it were a bite in the cabbage garden, or a run in the corn patch, or a foraging expedition into the flower borders, she made herself equally welcome and at home. Such a scampering and driving, such cries of "Suke here" and "Suke there," as constantly greeted our ears, kept our little establishment in a constant commotion. At last, when she one morning made a plunge at the skirts of my new broadcloth frock coat, and carried off one flap on her horns, my patience gave out, and I determined to sell her. As, however, I had made a good story of my misfortunes among my friends and neighbors, and amused them with sundry whimsical accounts of my various adventures in the cow-catching line, I found, when I came to speak of selling, that there was a general coolness on the subject, and nobody seemed disposed to be the recipient of my responsibilities. In short, I was glad, at last, to get fifteen dollars for her, and comforted myself with thinking that I had at least gained twenty-five dollars worth of experience in the transaction, to say nothing of the fine exercise. I comforted my soul, however, the day after, by purchasing and bringing home to my wife a fine swarm of bees. "Your bee, now," says I, "is a really classical insect, and breathes of Virgil and the Augustan age,--and then she is a domestic, tranquil, placid creature. How beautiful the murmuring of a hive near our honeysuckle of a calm, summer evening! Then they are tranquilly and peacefully amassing for us their stores of sweetness, while they lull us with their murmurs. What a beautiful image of disinterested benevolence!" My wife declared that I was quite a poet, and the beehive was duly installed near the flower plots, that the delicate creatures might have the full benefit of the honeysuckle and mignonette. My spirits began to rise. I bought three different treatises on the rearing of bees, and also one or two new patterns of hives, and proposed to rear my bees on the most approved model. I charged all the establishment to let me know when there was any indication of an emigrating spirit, that I might be ready to receive the new swarm into my patent mansion. Accordingly, one afternoon, when I was deep in an article that I was preparing for the "North American Review," intelligence was brought me that a swarm had risen. I was on the alert at once, and discovered, on going out, that the provoking creatures had chosen the top of a tree about thirty feet high to settle on. Now my books had carefully instructed me just how to approach the swarm and cover them with a new hive; but I had never contemplated the possibility of the swarm being, like Haman's gallows, forty cubits high. I looked despairingly upon the smooth-bark tree, which rose, like a column, full twenty feet, without branch or twig. "What is to be done?" said I, appealing to two or three neighbors. At last, at the recommendation of one of them, a ladder was raised against the tree, and, equipped with a shirt outside of my clothes, a green veil over my head, and a pair of leather gloves on my hands, I went up with a saw at my girdle to saw off the branch on which they had settled, and lower it by a rope to a neighbor, similarly equipped, who stood below with the hive. As a result of this manoeuvre the fastidious little insects were at length fairly installed at housekeeping in my new patent hive, and, rejoicing in my success, I again sat down to my article. That evening my wife and I took tea in our honeysuckle arbor, with our little ones and a friend or two, to whom I showed my treasures, and expatiated at large on the comforts and conveniences of the new patent hive. But alas for the hopes of man! The little ungrateful wretches--what must they do but take advantage of my oversleeping myself, the next morning, to clear out for new quarters without so much as leaving me a P. P. C.! Such was the fact; at eight o'clock I found the new patent hive as good as ever; but the bees I have never seen from that day to this! "The rascally little conservatives!" said I; "I believe they have never had a new idea from the days of Virgil down, and are entirely unprepared to appreciate improvements." Meanwhile the seeds began to germinate in our garden, when we found, to our chagrin, that, between John Bull and Paddy, there had occurred sundry confusions in the several departments. Radishes had been planted broadcast, carrots and beets arranged in hills, and here and there a whole paper of seed appeared to have been planted bodily. My good old uncle, who, somewhat to my confusion, made me a call at this time, was greatly distressed and scandalized by the appearance of our garden. But by a deal of fussing, transplanting, and replanting, it was got into some shape and order. My uncle was rather troublesome, as careful old people are apt to be--annoying us by perpetual inquiries of what we gave for this and that, and running up provoking calculations on the final cost of matters; and we began to wish that his visits might be as short as would be convenient. But when, on taking leave, he promised to send us a fine young cow of his own raising, our hearts rather smote us for our impatience. "'Tain't any of your new breeds, nephew," said the old man, "yet I can say that she's a gentle, likely young crittur, and better worth forty dollars than many a one that's cried up for Ayrshire or Durham; and you shall be quite welcome to her." We thanked him, as in duty bound, and thought that if he was full of old-fashioned notions, he was no less full of kindness and good will. And now, with a new cow, with our garden beginning to thrive under the gentle showers of May, with our flower borders blooming, my wife and I began to think ourselves in Paradise. But alas! the same sun and rain that warmed our fruit and flowers brought up from the earth, like sulky gnomes, a vast array of purple-leaved weeds, that almost in a night seemed to cover the whole surface of the garden beds. Our gardeners both being gone, the weeding was expected to be done by me--one of the anticipated relaxations of my leisure hours. "Well," said I, in reply to a gentle intimation from my wife, "when my article is finished, I'll take a day and weed all up clean." Thus days slipped by, till at length the article was dispatched, and I proceeded to my garden. Amazement! Who could have possibly foreseen that anything earthly could grow so fast in a few days! There were no bounds, no alleys, no beds, no distinction of beet and carrot, nothing but a flourishing congregation of weeds nodding and bobbing in the morning breeze, as if to say, "We hope you are well, sir--we've got the ground, you see!" I began to explore, and to hoe, and to weed. Ah! did anybody ever try to clean a neglected carrot or beet bed, or bend his back in a hot sun over rows of weedy onions! He is the man to feel for my despair! How I weeded, and sweat, and sighed! till, when high noon came on, as the result of all my toils, only three beds were cleaned! And how disconsolate looked the good seed, thus unexpectedly delivered from its sheltering tares, and laid open to a broiling July sun! Every juvenile beet and carrot lay flat down wilted, and drooping, as if, like me, they had been weeding, instead of being weeded. "This weeding is quite a serious matter," said I to my wife; "the fact is, I must have help about it!" "Just what I was myself thinking," said my wife. "My flower borders are all in confusion, and my petunia mounds so completely overgrown, that nobody would dream what they were meant for!" In short, it was agreed between us that we could not afford the expense of a full-grown man to keep our place; yet we must reinforce ourselves by the addition of a boy, and a brisk youngster from the vicinity was pitched upon as the happy addition. This youth was a fellow of decidedly quick parts, and in one forenoon made such a clearing in our garden that I was delighted. Bed after bed appeared to view, all cleared and dressed out with such celerity that I was quite ashamed of my own slowness, until, on examination, I discovered that he had, with great impartiality, pulled up both weeds and vegetables. This hopeful beginning was followed up by a succession of proceedings which should be recorded for the instruction of all who seek for help from the race of boys. Such a loser of all tools, great and small; such an invariable leaver-open of all gates, and letter-down of bars; such a personification of all manner of anarchy and ill luck, had never before been seen on the estate. His time, while I was gone to the city, was agreeably diversified with roosting on the fence, swinging on the gates, making poplar whistles for the children, hunting eggs, and eating whatever fruit happened to be in season, in which latter accomplishment he was certainly quite distinguished. After about three weeks of this kind of joint gardening, we concluded to dismiss Master Tom from the firm, and employ a man. "Things must be taken care of," said I, "and I cannot do it. 'Tis out of the question." And so the man was secured. But I am making a long story, and may chance to outrun the sympathies of my readers. Time would fail me to tell of the distresses manifold that fell upon me--of cows dried up by poor milkers; of hens that wouldn't set at all, and hens that, despite all law and reason, would set on one egg; of hens that, having hatched families, straightway led them into all manner of high grass and weeds, by which means numerous young chicks caught premature colds and perished; and how, when I, with manifold toil, had driven one of these inconsiderate gadders into a coop, to teach her domestic habits, the rats came down upon her and slew every chick in one night; how my pigs were always practicing gymnastic exercises over the fence of the sty, and marauding in the garden. I wonder that Fourier never conceived the idea of having his garden land ploughed by pigs; for certainly they manifest quite a decided elective attraction for turning up the earth. When autumn came, I went soberly to market, in the neighboring city, and bought my potatoes and turnips like any other man; for, between all the various systems of gardening pursued, I was obliged to confess that my first horticultural effort was a decided failure. But though all my rural visions had proved illusive, there were some very substantial realities. My bill at the seed store, for seeds, roots, and tools, for example, had run up to an amount that was perfectly unaccountable; then there were various smaller items, such as horseshoeing, carriage mending--for he who lives in the country and does business in the city must keep his vehicle and appurtenances. I had always prided myself on being an exact man, and settling every account, great and small, with the going out of the old year; but this season I found myself sorely put to it. In fact, had not I received a timely lift from my good old uncle, I should have made a complete break down. The old gentleman's troublesome habit of ciphering and calculating, it seems, had led him beforehand to foresee that I was not exactly in the money-making line, nor likely to possess much surplus revenue to meet the note which I had given for my place; and, therefore, he quietly paid it himself, as I discovered, when, after much anxiety and some sleepless nights, I went to the holder to ask for an extension of credit. "He was right, after all," said I to my wife; "'to live cheap in the country, a body must know how.'" TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER I have a detail of very homely grievances to present; but such as they are, many a heart will feel them to be heavy--the trials of a housekeeper. "Poh!" says one of the lords of creation, taking his cigar out of his mouth, and twirling it between his two first fingers, "what a fuss these women do make of this simple matter of managing a family! I can't see for my life as there is anything so extraordinary to be done in this matter of housekeeping: only three meals a day to be got and cleared off--and it really seems to take up the whole of their mind from morning till night. _I_ could keep house without so much of a flurry, I know." Now, prithee, good brother, listen to my story, and see how much you know about it. I came to this enlightened West about a year since, and was duly established in a comfortable country residence within a mile and a half of the city, and there commenced the enjoyment of domestic felicity. I had been married about three months, and had been, previously _in love_ in the most approved romantic way, with all the proprieties of moonlight walks, serenades, sentimental billets doux, and everlasting attachment. After having been allowed, as I said, about three months to get over this sort of thing, and to prepare for realities, I was located for life as aforesaid. My family consisted of myself and husband, a female friend as a visitor, and two brothers of my good man, who were engaged with him in business. I pass over the first two or three days, spent in that process of hammering boxes, breaking crockery, knocking things down and picking them up again, which is commonly called getting to housekeeping. As usual, carpets were sewed and stretched, laid down, and taken up to be sewed over; things were formed, and _re_formed, _trans_formed, and _con_formed, till at last a settled order began to appear. But now came up the great point of all. During our confusion we had cooked and eaten our meals in a very miscellaneous and pastoral manner, eating now from the top of a barrel, and now from a fireboard laid on two chairs, and drinking, some from teacups, and some from saucers, and some from tumblers, and some from a pitcher big enough to be drowned in, and sleeping, some on sofas, and some on straggling beds and mattresses thrown down here and there wherever there was room. All these pleasant barbarities were now at an end. The house was in order, the dishes put up in their places; three regular meals were to be administered in one day, all in an orderly, civilized form; beds were to be made, rooms swept and dusted, dishes washed, knives scoured, and all the et cetera to be attended to. Now for getting "help," as Mrs. Trollope says; and where and how were we to get it? We knew very few persons in the city; and how were we to accomplish the matter? At length the "house of employment" was mentioned; and my husband was dispatched thither regularly every day for a week, while I, in the mean time, was very nearly _dispatched_ by the abundance of work at home. At length, one evening, as I was sitting completely exhausted, thinking of resorting to the last feminine expedient for supporting life, viz., a good fit of crying, my husband made his appearance, with a most triumphant air, at the door. "There, Margaret, I have got you a couple at last--cook and chambermaid." So saying, he flourished open the door, and gave to my view the picture of a little, dry, snuffy-looking old woman, and a great, staring Dutch girl, in a green bonnet with red ribbons, with mouth wide open, and hands and feet that would have made a Greek sculptor open _his_ mouth too. I addressed forthwith a few words of encouragement to each of this cultivated-looking couple, and proceeded to ask their names; and forthwith the old woman began to snuffle and to wipe her face with what was left of an old silk pocket-handkerchief preparatory to speaking, while the young lady opened her mouth wider, and looked around with a frightened air, as if meditating an escape. After some preliminaries, however, I found out that my old woman was Mrs. Tibbins, and my Hebe's name was _Kotterin_; also, that she knew much more Dutch than English, and not any too much of either. The old lady was the cook. I ventured a few inquiries. "Had she ever cooked?" "Yes, ma'am, sartain; she had lived at two or three places in the city." "I suspect, my dear," said my husband confidently, "that she is an experienced cook, and so your troubles are over;" and he went to reading his newspaper. I said no more, but determined to wait till morning. The breakfast, to be sure, did not do much honor to the talents of my official; but it was the first time, and the place was new to her. After breakfast was cleared away I proceeded to give directions for dinner; it was merely a plain joint of meat, I said, to be roasted in the tin oven. The experienced cook looked at me with a stare of entire vacuity. "The tin oven," I repeated, "stands there," pointing to it. She walked up to it, and touched it with such an appearance of suspicion as if it had been an electrical battery, and then looked round at me with a look of such helpless ignorance that my soul was moved. "I never see one of them things before," said she. "Never saw a tin oven!" I exclaimed. "I thought you said you had cooked in two or three families." "They does not have such things as them, though," rejoined my old lady. Nothing was to be done, of course, but to instruct her into the philosophy of the case; and having spitted the joint, and given numberless directions, I walked off to my room to superintend the operations of Kotterin, to whom I had committed the making of my bed and the sweeping of my room, it never having come into my head that there could be a wrong way of making a bed; and to this day it is a marvel to me how any one could arrange pillows and quilts to make such a nondescript appearance as mine now presented. One glance showed me that Kotterin also was "_just caught_," and that I had as much to do in her department as in that of my old lady. Just then the doorbell rang. "Oh, there is the doorbell," I exclaimed. "Run, Kotterin, and show them into the parlor." Kotterin started to run, as directed, and then stopped, and stood looking round on all the doors and on me with a wofully puzzled air. "The street door," said I, pointing towards the entry. Kotterin blundered into the entry, and stood gazing with a look of stupid wonder at the bell ringing without hands, while I went to the door and let in the company before she could be fairly made to understand the connection between the ringing and the phenomenon of admission. As dinner time approached, I sent word into my kitchen to have it set on; but recollecting the state of the heads of department there, I soon followed my own orders. I found the tin oven standing out in the middle of the kitchen, and my cook seated _à la Turc_ in front of it, contemplating the roast meat with full as puzzled an air as in the morning. I once more explained the mystery of taking it off, and assisted her to get it on to the platter, though somewhat cooled by having been so long set out for inspection. I was standing holding the spit in my hands, when Kotterin, who had heard the doorbell ring, and was determined this time to be in season, ran into the hall, and, soon returning, opened the kitchen door, and politely ushered in three or four fashionable looking ladies, exclaiming, "Here she is." As these were strangers from the city, who had come to make their first call, this introduction was far from proving an eligible one--the look of thunderstruck astonishment with which I greeted their first appearance, as I stood brandishing the spit, and the terrified snuffling and staring of poor Mrs. Tibbins, who again had recourse to her old pocket-handkerchief, almost entirely vanquished their gravity, and it was evident that they were on the point of a broad laugh; so, recovering my self-possession, I apologized, and led the way to the parlor. Let these few incidents be a specimen of the four mortal weeks that I spent with these "helps," during which time I did almost as much work, with twice as much anxiety, as when there was nobody there; and yet everything went wrong besides. The young gentlemen complained of the patches of starch grimed to their collars, and the streaks of black coal ironed into their dickies, while one week every pocket-handkerchief in the house was starched so stiff that you might as well have carried an earthen plate in your pocket; the tumblers looked muddy; the plates were never washed clean or wiped dry unless I attended to each one; and as to eating and drinking, we experienced a variety that we had not before considered possible. At length the old woman vanished from the stage, and was succeeded by a knowing, active, capable damsel, with a temper like a steel-trap, who remained with me just one week, and then went off in a fit of spite. To her succeeded a rosy, good-natured, merry lass, who broke the crockery, burned the dinner, tore the clothes in ironing, and knocked down everything that stood in her way about the house, without at all discomposing herself about the matter. One night she took the stopper from a barrel of molasses, and came singing off upstairs, while the molasses ran soberly out into the cellar bottom all night, till by morning it was in a state of universal emancipation. Having done this, and also dispatched an entire set of tea things by letting the waiter fall, she one day made her disappearance. Then, for a wonder, there fell to my lot a tidy, efficient, trained English girl; pretty, and genteel, and neat, and knowing how to do everything, and with the sweetest temper in the world. "Now," said I to myself, "I shall rest from my labors." Everything about the house began to go right, and looked as clean and genteel as Mary's own pretty self. But, alas! this period of repose was interrupted by the vision of a clever, trim-looking young man, who for some weeks could be heard scraping his boots at the kitchen door every Sunday night; and at last Miss Mary, with some smiling and blushing, gave me to understand that she must leave in two weeks. "Why, Mary," said I, feeling a little mischievous, "don't you like the place?" "Oh, yes, ma'am." "Then why do you look for another?" "I am not going to another place." "What, Mary, are you going to learn a trade?" "No, ma'am." "Why, then, what do you mean to do?" "I expect to keep house myself, ma'am," said she, laughing and blushing. "Oh ho!" said I, "that is it;" and so in two weeks I lost the best little girl in the world: peace to her memory. After this came an interregnum, which put me in mind of the chapter in Chronicles that I used to read with great delight when a child, where Basha, and Elah, and Tibni, and Zimri, and Omri, one after the other, came on to the throne of Israel, all in the compass of half a dozen verses. We had one old woman, who stayed a week, and went away with the misery in her tooth; one young woman, who ran away and got married; one cook, who came at night and went off before light in the morning; one very clever girl, who stayed a month, and then went away because her mother was sick; another, who stayed six weeks, and was taken with the fever herself; and during all this time, who can speak the damage and destruction wrought in the domestic paraphernalia by passing through these multiplied hands? What shall we do? Shall we give up houses, have no furniture to take care of, keep merely a bag of meal, a porridge pot, and a pudding stick, and sit in our tent door in real patriarchal independence? What shall we do? 
36689	----	Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been maintained. A list of inconsistently spelled and hyphenated words is found at the end of the text. THE NEW ENGLAND COOK BOOK OR YOUNG HOUSEKEEPER'S GUIDE: BEING A COLLECTION OF THE MOST VALUABLE RECEIPTS; EMBRACING ALL THE VARIOUS BRANCHES OF COOKERY AND WRITTEN IN A MINUTE AND METHODICAL MANNER. ALSO AN APPENDIX CONTAINING A COLLECTION OF MISCELLANEOUS RECEIPTS RELATIVE TO HOUSEWIFERY. NEW HAVEN: HEZEKIAH HOWE & CO. AND HERRICK & NOYES. 1836. Entered according to the Act of Congress in the year 1836 by HEZEKIAH HOWE & CO. in the Clerk's office of the District Court of Connecticut. PREFACE. The writer deems that no apology need be offered for adding another to the long list of works on the truly interesting if not noble science of gastronomy provided she has accomplished the desirable object of producing a work that will commend itself to all persons of true taste; that is to say those whose taste has not been vitiated by a mode of living contrary to her own. She has made that her aim and although not an Ude or Kitchener she does profess to have sufficient knowledge of the occult science if properly imparted to enlighten those not versed in culinary lore. The utter inefficiency of most works of the kind are well known to every experienced housekeeper serving but to lead the uninitiated astray who following implicitly the directions given have to lament in the language of that homely but not inapt proverb that their cake is all dough. Among the few exceptions she would mention the Frugal Housewife by Mrs. Child which is a very useful book and fully answers its author's design; but that is limited as its name imports to the plainest cooking and is not intended for those who can afford to consult their taste in preference to their purse. The writer of this short but she trusts comprehensive work has endeavored to combine both economy and that which would be agreeable to the palate but she has never suffered the former to supersede the latter. Although the mode of cooking is such as is generally practiced by good notable Yankee housekeepers yet the New England Cook Book is not so local but that it will answer like a modern almanac without any material alteration for almost any meridian. It is intended for all classes of society and embracing both the plainest and richest cooking joined to such minuteness of directions as to leave as little as possible to the judgment of the practitioner proving to the unskilled quite a desideratum while in the hands of the head of the culinary department it will prevent that incessant running to and fro for directions with which housekeepers' patience are too often tried. The experienced cook may smile at the simplicity and minuteness of some of the receipts yet if she has witnessed as much good food spoiled by improper cooking as the writer of these receipts she will not think she has been unnecessarily plain. In regard to the seasoning of food it has been found impossible to give any exact rules as so much depends on the quality of the food and seasoning. The cook should be careful not to have the natural flavor of the food overpowered by the seasoning and where a variety of spices are used no one should predominate over the other. Measuring has been adopted as far as practicable in preference to weighing on account of its being more convenient. As many people have not a set of measures it has been thought best to use such utensils as every one has viz. tumblers tea cups wine glasses &c. but as they may be thought rather too indefinite by some the exact quantity will here be stated; most tumblers are a good half pint measure wine glasses usually hold half a gill and table spoons the fifth of a gill; by tea cups are meant the old fashioned ones which hold very little over a gill. In conclusion the writer would give her sincere thanks to those of her friends who have kindly furnished her with many of their choice and rare receipts and to the public she would not add any thing more in its favor being strongly impressed with the truth of the adage that the proof of the pudding is in the eating. CONTENTS. Page. 1. Meat 1 2. Roast Beef 1 3. Beef Steak 2 4. Alamode Beef 2 5. Beef Liver 3 6. To Corn Beef 3 7. Mutton 4 8. Veal 4 9. Veal Cutlets 4 10. Calf's Head 5 11. Collops 5 12. Plaw 5 13. A Fillet of Veal 6 14. Lamb 6 15. Shoulder of Lamb Grilled 7 16. Lamb's Fry 7 17. Turkey 7 18. Goose 8 19. Chickens 8 20. Fricassee Chickens 9 21. Pigeons 9 22. Ducks 10 23. Baked Pig 10 24. Pressed Head 10 25. Souse 11 26. Tripe 11 27. Ham 11 28. Tongues 11 29. Curries 12 30. Curry Powder 12 31. Chicken Pie 12 32. Beef and Mutton Pie 13 33. Chicken and Veal Pot Pie 13 34. To Frizzle Beef 14 35. Warmed over Meats 14 36. A Ragout of cold Veal 15 37. Drawn Butter 15 38. Burnt Butter 16 39. Roast Meat Gravy 16 40. Sauce for cold Meat Fish or Salad 16 41. Wine Sauce for Venison or Mutton 16 42. Rice Sauce 17 43. Oyster Sauce 17 44. Liver Sauce for Fish 17 45. Lobster Sauce 17 46. Chicken Salad 18 47. Sauce for Turtle or Calf's Head 18 48. Apple Sauce 18 49. Pudding Sauce 18 50. Tomato Catsup 19 51. Mushroom Catsup 19 52. Essence of Celery 19 53. Soup Herb Spirit 20 54. Veal Soup 20 55. Black Soup 20 56. Calf's Head or mock Turtle Soup 21 57. Chicken or Turkey Soup 21 58. Oyster Soup 22 59. Pea Soup 22 60. To Bake Beans 22 61. Poached Eggs 23 62. To Boil Eggs 23 63. Omelet 23 64. Fresh Fish 23 65. Fresh Cod 24 66. Halibut 24 67. Striped and Sea Bass 24 68. Black Fish 25 69. Shad 25 70. Chowder 25 71. Stuffed and baked Fish 26 72. Salt Cod 26 73. Fish Cakes 26 74. Lobsters and Crabs 27 75. Scollops 27 76. Eels 27 77. Clams 28 78. Stew Oysters 28 79. To Fry Oysters 28 80. Oyster Pancakes 28 81. Oyster Pie 29 82. Scolloped Oysters 29 83. Vegetables.--Potatoes 29 84. Turnips 30 85. Beets 30 86. Parsnips and Carrots 30 87. Onions 30 88. Artichokes 31 89. Squashes 31 90. Cabbage 31 91. Asparagus 31 92. Peas 31 93. Beans 32 94. Corn 32 95. Greens 32 96. Salads 32 97. To Stew Mushrooms 33 98. Egg Plant 33 99. Celeriac 33 100. Salsify or Vegetable Oyster 33 101. Tomatoes 34 102. Gumb 34 103. Southern manner of Cooking Rice 34 104. To Pickle Peppers 35 105. Mangoes 35 106. To Pickle Butternuts and Walnuts 35 107. To Pickle Cabbage and Cauliflower 36 108. To Pickle Onions 36 109. To Pickle Artichokes 36 110. To Pickle Cucumbers 37 111. To Pickle Gherkins 37 112. To Pickle Oysters 38 113. To Pickle Mushrooms 38 114. Wheat Bread 38 115. Sponge Bread 39 116. Rye Bread 39 117. Rice Bread 40 118. French Rolls or Twists 40 119. Yeast 40 120. Yeast Cakes 41 121. Biscuit 42 122. Butter Milk Biscuit 42 123. Hard Biscuit 42 124. York Biscuit 42 125. Rice Cakes 43 126. Rice Ruffs 43 127. Buck Wheat Cakes 43 128. Economy Cakes 43 129. Green Corn Cakes 44 130. Corn Cake 44 131. Indian Slap Jacks 44 132. Johnny Cakes 44 133. Hoe Cakes 45 134. Muffins 45 135. Flour Waffles 45 136. Quick Waffles 45 137. Rice Waffles 46 138. Rice Wafers 46 139. Observations respecting Sweet Cakes 46 140. Gingerbread 47 141. Soft Gingerbread 47 142. Ginger Snaps 48 143. Cider Cake 48 144. Cookies 48 145. New Year's Cookies 49 146. Plain Tea Cakes 49 147. Shrewsbury Cake 49 148. Tunbridge Cake 49 149. Jumbles 50 150. Simbals 50 151. Sugar Gingerbread 50 152. Rusk 50 153. Whigs 51 154. Hot Cream Cakes 51 155. Cross Buns 51 156. Nut Cakes 52 157. Crollers 52 158. Molasses Dough Cake 53 159. Sugar Dough Cake 53 160. Measure Cake 53 161. Cup Cake 53 162. French Loaf 54 163. Washington Cake 54 164. Plain Cream Cake 54 165. Rich Cream Cake 54 166. Shelah or quick Loaf Cake 55 167. Loaf Cake 55 168. Rice Cake 55 169. Diet Bread 56 170. Scotch or Lemon Cake 56 171. Pound Cake 56 172. Queen's or heart Cakes 56 173. Jelly Cake 57 174. Raised Queen's Cake 57 175. Sponge Cake 57 176. Almond Sponge Cake 58 177. Black or Fruit Cake 58 178. Almond Cheese Cake 59 179. Maccaroons 59 180. Frosting for Cake 59 181. Cocoanut Cakes 60 182. Floating Island 60 183. Whip Syllabub 60 184. Blanc Mange 61 185. Rice flour Blanc mange 61 186. Ice Cream 61 187. Pastry 62 188. Puff Paste or Confectioner's Pastry 63 189. Apple Pie 63 190. Mince Pie 64 191. Peach Pie 64 192. Tart Pie 65 193. Rice Pie 65 194. Rhubarb or Persian Apple Pie 65 195. Cherry and Blackberry Pies 66 196. Grape Pie 66 197. Currant and Gooseberry Pies 66 198. Pumpkin Pie 66 199. Carrot Pie 67 200. Potatoe Pie 67 201. Marlborough Pie 67 202. Custard Pie 67 203. A Plain Custard Pie 68 204. Lemon Pie 68 205. Cocoanut Pie 68 206. Small Puffs 69 207. Boiled Custards 69 208. Almond Custards 69 209. Cold Custard or Rennet Pudding 70 210. Custard Pudding 70 211. Boiled Bread Pudding 70 212. A Plain Baked Bread Pudding 71 213. A Rich Bread Pudding 71 214. Flour Pudding 71 215. A Plain Rice Pudding 72 216. A Rich Rice Pudding 72 217. Rice Snow Balls 72 218. Baked Indian Pudding 72 219. Boiled Indian Pudding 73 220. Corn Pudding 73 221. Hasty Pudding 73 222. Fruit Pudding 74 223. Fritters 74 224. Apple Dumplings 74 225. Orange Pudding 75 226. Bird's Nest Pudding 75 227. Apple Custard Pudding 75 228. English Plum Pudding 76 229. Transparent Pudding 76 230. Lemon Syrup 76 231. Orange Syrup 77 232. Blackberry Syrup 77 233. Clarified Syrup for Sweet Meats 77 234. To Preserve Quinces 78 235. Quince Marmalade 79 236. To Preserve Pears 79 237. To Preserve Peaches 79 238. To Preserve Currants 80 239. To Preserve Barberries 80 240. To Preserve Ginger 81 241. To Preserve Apples 81 242. To Preserve Cymbelines or Mock Citron 81 243. To Preserve Watermelon Rinds 82 244. To Preserve Cherries 82 245. To Preserve Muskmelons 82 246. To Preserve Pine Apples 82 247. To Preserve Pumpkins 83 248. To Preserve Gages 84 249. To Preserve Strawberries 84 250. Blackberry and Raspberry Jam 84 251. Strawberry Blackberry and Raspberry Jelly 84 252. Cranberry Grape and Currant Jelly 85 253. Quince Jelly 85 254. Apple Jelly 85 255. Lemon Jelly 86 256. Calf's Foot Jelly 86 257. Coffee 87 258. To make Tea 88 259. Chocolate 88 260. Hop Beer 88 261. Spruce Beer 89 262. Spring Beer 89 263. Ginger Beer 89 264. A good Family Wine 90 265. Currant Wine 90 266. Raspberry Shrub 90 267. Noyeau 91 268. Spring Fruit Sherbet 91 269. Grape Wine 91 270. Smallage Cordial 91 MISCELLANEOUS RECEIPTS AND OBSERVATIONS USEFUL TO YOUNG HOUSEKEEPERS. Page. 1. To make Essence of Lemon 92 2. Essence of Ginger 92 3. Rose Water 92 4. Spice Brandy 93 5. Barley Water 93 6. Water Gruel 93 7. Wine Whey 93 8. Stomachic Tincture 94 9. Beef Tea 94 10. Carrageen or Irish Moss 94 11. Moss Blanc Mange 95 12. Elderberry Syrup 95 13. New Bread and Cake from old and rusked bread 95 14. To Preserve Cheese from Insects and Mould 96 15. To keep vegetables and herbs 96 16. To Preserve various kinds of Fruit over winter 97 17. To extract Essences from various kinds of Flowers 98 18. Indelible Ink for marking linen 98 19. Perfume Bags 98 20. Lip Salve 99 21. Bread Seals 99 22. To Loosen the Glass Stopples of Decanters or Smelling Bottles when wedged in tight 99 23. Cement for broken China Glass and Earthenware 100 24. Japanese Cement or Rice Glue 100 25. Cement for Alabaster 101 26. To extract fruit Stains 101 27. To extract Spots of paint from Silk Woolen and Cotton Goods 101 28. To remove black stains on Scarlet Merinos or Broadcloths 102 29. To remove grease spots from Paper Silk or Woolen 102 30. To extract stains from white Cotton goods and Colored Silks 102 31. Rules for washing Calicoes 103 32. Rules for washing Silks 103 33. Rules for washing woolens 104 34. Rules for washing white Cotton Clothes 105 35. To clean silk and woolen Shawls 105 36. To clean Silk Stockings 106 37. To clean Carpets 106 38. To clean feather Beds and Mattresses 107 39. To clean Light Kid Gloves 107 40. To remove Ink or grease spots from Floors 107 41. To clean Mahogany and Marble Furniture 108 42. To clean stone hearths and stoves 108 43. To clean Brass 109 44. To cleanse Vials and Pie Plates 109 45. Cautions Relative to Brass and Copper 109 46. To keep Pickles and Sweet Meats 109 47. Starch 110 48. To temper new Ovens and Iron Ware 110 49. To temper Earthen Ware 111 50. Preservatives against the ravages of Moths 111 51. To drive away various kinds of household vermin 111 52. To keep Meat in hot Weather 112 53. To Prevent polished Cutlery from rusting 112 54. To melt Fat for Shortening 112 55. To preserve Eggs fresh a year 113 56. To preserve Cream for long Voyages 113 57. Substitute for Milk and Cream in Tea or Coffee 113 58. To Cure Butter 113 59. To make salt Butter fresh 114 60. To take rankness from a small quantity of butter 114 61. Windsor Soap 114 62. To make Bayberry or Myrtle Soap 115 63. Cold Soap 115 PRACTICAL COOKERY. 1. _Meat._ To be in perfection meat should be kept several days when the weather will admit of it. Beef and mutton should be kept at least a week in cold weather and poultry three or four days. In summer meat should be kept in a cool airy place away from the flies and if there is any danger of its spoiling sprinkle a little salt over it. When meat is frozen it should be put in cold water and remain in it till the frost is entirely out if there is any frost in it when put to the fire it will be impossible to cook it well. Fresh meat should not be put into the pot until the water boils. When meat is too salt soak it in lukewarm water for several hours change the water before boiling it. Meat should boil gently with just water enough to cover it and the side that is to go up on the table should be put down in the pot as the scum that rises makes the meat look dark it should be taken off as soon as it rises. The liquor in which all kinds of fresh meat is boiled makes good soup. 2. _Roast Beef._ The tender loin and first and second cuts of the rack are the best roasting pieces the third and fourth cuts are good. The lower part of a rack of beef should be cut off as it prevents the meat from roasting thoroughly. When the beef is put to the fire to roast a little salt should be sprinkled on it and the bony side turned towards the fire when the ribs get well heated through turn the meat put it to a brisk fire and baste it frequently till done. If the meat is a thick piece allow fifteen minutes to each pound to roast it in if thin less time will be required. 3. _Beef Steak._ The tender loin is the best piece for broiling that from the shoulder clod or from the round is good and comes much cheaper. Beef before broiling if not very tender should be laid on a board and pounded. Wash it in cold water and broil it on a hot bed of coals the quicker it is cooked without being burnt the better it is. Cut up about quarter of a pound of butter for 7 or 8 lbs. of beef put the pieces into a platter and when the steak is done lay it on the butter pepper and salt it on both sides. 4. _Alamode Beef._ The round of beef is the best piece to alamode. The shoulder clod is good and comes cheaper it is also good stewed without any spices. For five lbs. of beef soak about a pound of bread in cold water when soft drain off the water mash the bread fine put in a piece of butter half the size of a hen's egg together with half a tea spoonful of salt the same quantity of mace pepper and cloves also a couple of eggs and a table spoonful of flour mix the whole well together then cut gashes in the beef and fill them with half of the dressing put it in a bake pan with boiling water enough to cover it. The bake pan lid should be just hot enough to scorch flour put a few coals and ashes on the top let it stew constantly for two hours then place the reserved dressing on top of the meat put in a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg heat the bake pan lid till hot enough to brown the dressing stew it an hour and a half longer. When you have taken up the meat if the gravy is not thick enough mix a tea spoonful or two of flour with a little water and stir it in put in a couple of wine glasses of white wine and a small piece of butter. 5. _Beef Liver._ The best way to cook liver is to pour boiling water on it dip it in salt and water then broil it till nearly done with two or three slices of salt pork previously dipped in flour cut up the meat and pork into strips about two inches long lay the whole into a pan with a little water salt and pepper put in a little butter stew it four or five minutes. It is more economical to fry or broil it but it is not as nice. 6. _To Corn Beef._ To every gallon of cold water put a quart of rock salt an oz. of salt petre a quarter of a lb. of sugar and a couple of table spoonsful of blown salt. (Some people use molasses instead of sugar but it is not as good). No boiling is necessary put your beef in the brine as long as any salt remains at the bottom of the brine it is strong enough. Whenever any scum rises the brine should be scalded skimmed and more sugar salt and salt petre put in. When a piece of beef is put in the brine a little salt should be added and if the weather is warm cut gashes in the beef and fill them with salt. Keep a heavy weight on the beef in order to keep it under the brine. The top of the weight is a good place to keep fresh meat from spoiling in hot weather. In very hot weather it is difficult to corn beef in cold brine before it spoils on this account it is a good plan to corn it in the pot it is done in the following manner to six or eight lbs. of beef put a tea cup of salt sprinkle flour on the side that is to go up on the table and put it down in the pot without any water in it then turn in cold water enough to cover it boil it two hours then fill up the pot and boil it an hour and a half longer. 7. _Mutton._ The saddle is the best part for roasting the shoulder and leg are good roasted; but the latter is better boiled with a piece of salt pork; a tea cup of rice improves the looks of it. Before putting the mutton down to roast rub a little butter on it sprinkle on salt and pepper; cloves and allspice improve it. Put a small piece of butter in the dripping pan and baste it frequently the bony side should be turned towards the fire first and roasted. For boiling or roasting mutton allow a quarter of an hour to each pound. 8. _Veal._ The loin of veal is the best roasting piece the breast and rack are good roasting pieces the breast makes a good pot pie. The leg is nice for frying and when several slices have been cut off for cutlets the remainder is nice boiled with about half a pound of salt pork. Veal for roasting should be salted and peppered and have a little butter rubbed on it baste it frequently and unless the meat is very fat put a small piece of butter in the dripping pan when the meat is put down to roast. 9. _Veal Cutlets._ Fry three or four slices of pork when brown take them up. Cut part of a leg of veal into slices about an inch thick and fry them in your pork fat when brown on both sides take it up stir about half a tea cup of clear water into the gravy then mix a tea spoonful or two of flour with a little water and turn it in soak a couple of slices of toasted bread in the gravy lay them on the bottom of a platter place your meat and pork over the toast then turn your gravy on the meat. Some people dip the veal into the white of an egg and roll it in pounded bread crumbs before cooking it. It takes nearly an hour to cook this dish. 10. _Calf's Head._ Boil the head two hours together with the lights and feet put in the liver when it has boiled an hour and twenty minutes before the head is done tie up the brains in a bag and boil them with it. When these are done take them up and mash them fine season them with salt pepper and butter sweet herbs if you like use them as the dressing for the head. Some people prefer part of the liver and the feet for dressing they are prepared like the brains. The liquor that the calf's head is boiled in makes a nice soup seasoned in a plain way like any other veal soup or seasoned turtle fashion. The liquor should stand till the day after the head is boiled when the fat should be skimmed off. 11. _Collops._ Cut part of a leg of veal into pieces three or four inches broad sprinkle flour on them and fry in butter till brown then turn in water enough to cover the veal when it boils take off the scum put in two or three onions a blade of mace let it stew gently three quarters of an hour put in a little salt pepper and the juice of half a lemon. Take it up pour the gravy over it. The gravy should be previously thickened with a little flour and water. 12. _Plaw._ Boil a piece of lean veal till tender. Then take it up cut it into strips three or four inches long put it back into the pot with the liquor it was boiled in and a couple of tea cups of rice to four lbs. of the veal put in a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg season it with salt pepper and sweet herbs stew it gently till the water has nearly boiled away. A little curry powder in this converts it into a curry dish. 13. _A Fillet of Veal._ Take a leg of veal cut off the shank and cut gashes in the remainder. Make a dressing of bread soaked soft and mashed season it with salt pepper and sweet herbs chop a little raw pork fine and put it into the dressing if you have not pork use a little butter. Fill the gashes in the meat with the dressing put it in a bake pan with water enough to just cover it put the remainder of the dressing on top of the meat. For six lbs. of veal allow two hours steady baking. A leg of veal is nice prepared in this manner and roasted. 14. _Lamb._ The fore and hind quarter of lamb are good roasting pieces. Sprinkle salt and pepper on the lamb and turn the bony side towards the fire first if not fat rub on a little butter and put a little in the dripping pan baste it frequently. These pieces are good stuffed like a fillet of veal and roasted the leg is also good cooked in the same manner but it is better boiled with a little pork or salt allow fifteen minutes boiling to each lb. The breast of lamb is good roasted broiled or corned and boiled it is also good made into a pot pie. The fore quarter with the ribs divided is good broiled the bones of this as well as of all other kinds of meat when put down to broil should be put toward the fire a little butter pepper and salt should be put on it. Lamb is very apt to spoil in warm weather if you wish to keep a leg several days put it in brine it should not be put in with pork as fresh meat is apt to injure the pork. 15. _Shoulder of Lamb Grilled._ The shoulder of lamb is good roasted or cooked in the following manner. Score it in chequers about an inch long rub it over with a little butter and the yolk of an egg then dip it into finely pounded bread crumbs sprinkle on salt pepper and sweet herbs broil or roast it till of a light brown. This is good with plain gravy or sauce made in the following manner with half a pint of the gravy (or the same quantity of drawn butter ) put a table spoonful of tomato catsup the juice of half a lemon a little salt and pepper. 16. _Lamb's Fry._ The heart and sweet bread are nice fried plainly or dipped into the white of an egg and fine bread crumbs they should be fried in lard. 17. _Turkey._ Take out the inwards and wash both the inside and outside of the turkey. Prepare a dressing of either boiled potatoes mashed fine or bread soaked in cold water the water should be squeezed out of the bread mash it fine add a small piece of butter or pork chopped fine put in pepper salt and sweet herbs if you like them an egg mixed with the dressing makes it cut smoother. Fill the crop and body of the turkey with the dressing sew it up tie up the legs and wings rub on a little salt and butter. Roast it from two to three hours according to the size; twenty five minutes for every pound is a good rule. A turkey should be roasted slowly at first and basted frequently the inwards of a turkey should be boiled till tender and the liquor they are boiled in used for the gravy when you have taken up the inwards mix a little flour and water smoothly together and stir it into the skillet put in a little of the drippings of the turkey season it with salt and pepper and sweet herbs if you like. Drawn butter is used for boiled turkey. A turkey for boiling should be dressed like one for roasting tie it up in a cloth unless you boil rice in the pot with it if you use rice put in a tea cup two thirds full a small piece of pork boiled with the turkey improves it. If you wish to make a soup of the liquor in which the turkey is boiled let it stand till the next day and then skim off the fat. 18. _Goose._ If a goose is tender under the wing and you can break the skin easily by running the head of a pin across the breast there is no danger of its being tough. A goose should be dressed in the same manner and roasted the same length of time as a turkey. 19. _Chickens._ Chickens for roasting or boiling should have a dressing prepared like that for turkies. Half a tea cup full of rice boiled with the chickens makes them look white they will be less liable to break if the water is cold when they are put in to boil a little pork boiled with the chickens improves them if you do not boil any pork with them put in a little salt. Chickens for broiling should be split the inwards taken out and the chicken washed inside and out put the bony side down on the gridiron and broil it very slowly till brown then turn it when done take it up salt and butter it. About forty minutes is required to broil a common sized chicken. For roast chicken boil the liver and gizzard by themselves and use the water for gravy cut the inwards in slices and put them in. 20. _Fricassee Chickens._ The chickens should be jointed the inwards taken out and the chickens washed put them in a stew pan with the skin side down on each layer sprinkle salt and pepper; put in three or four slices of pork just cover them with water and let them stew slowly till tender. Then take them up mix a tea spoonful of flour smoothly with a little water and stir it into the gravy add a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg put the chickens back into the stew pan let them stew slowly for four or five minutes. When you have taken up the chickens put two or three slices of toast into the gravy and when soaked soft lay it in a platter and lay the chickens on top and turn the gravy upon it. If you wish to brown the chickens reserve the pork and fry it by itself when brown take it up and put in the chickens (when they are stewed tender ) and let them fry till of a light brown. 21. _Pigeons._ Take out the inwards and stuff them with a dressing prepared like that for turkies put them in the pot with the breast side down the water should more than cover them when nearly done put in a quarter of a lb. of butter to every dozen of pigeons mix a little flour and water and stir into the gravy. When stewed tender if you wish to brown them take them up and fry them in a little pork fat or butter an hour before they are done put on a heated bake pan lid. They are very good split open and stewed with a dressing made and warmed up separately with a little of the gravy. It takes about two hours to cook tender pigeons and three for tough ones. Tender pigeons are good stuffed and roasted. They should be buttered just before they are taken from the fire. 22. _Ducks._ Are good stewed like pigeons or roasted. Two or three onions in the dressing of wild ducks takes out the fishy taste. If ducks or any other fowls are slightly injured by being kept too long dip them in weak sal eratus and water before cooking them. 23. _Baked Pig._ Take out the inwards cut off the first joint of the feet and boil them till tender take them up and take out the bones chop them a little. Prepare a dressing of bread soaked and mashed fine season it with salt pepper butter and sweet herbs if you like fill the pig with the dressing rub a little butter on the out side to prevent its blistering. If you wish to have it go on the table whole put it into a long dripping pan put in a little water set it in a well heated oven bake it from two hours and a half to three according to the size. When done take out a little of the dressing and mix it with the chopped inwards and feet put in a little butter pepper and salt let the pig stand in the open air a few minutes before it goes on the table in order to make it crispy. 24. _Pressed Head._ Boil ears forehead and rind (the cheek is good but is better corned and smoked) boil them till the meat will almost drop from the bones take them up when cold cut the meat in strips about an inch long and half an inch broad warm it in a little of the liquor in which the meat was boiled season it with pepper salt cloves nutmeg and cinnamon when hot take it up and put it in a strong bag put a heavy weight upon it and let it remain till perfectly cold. 25. _Souse._ Take pig's ears and feet clean them thoroughly boil them till tender take them out and when cold split them lay them in a deep dish pour on boiling vinegar strongly spiced with pepper corns cloves and nutmeg put in a little salt. When cold they are fit to cook. Fry them in lard. They will keep good pickled for four or five weeks. 26. _Tripe._ After being scoured should be soaked in salt and water seven or eight days changing the water every other day. Then boil it till tender which will take eight or ten hours. It is then fit for broiling frying or pickling. It is pickled like souse. 27. _Ham._ A ham that weighs ten lbs. should be boiled four or five hours if too salt the water should be changed. Before it goes on to the table take off the rind put pepper or whole clove in the form of diamonds all over it. The Virginia way of curring Hams is the following dissolve two oz. of salt petre two tea spoonsful of sal eratus for every 16 lbs. of ham add molasses in the proportion of a gallon to a hogshead of brine. Make a salt pickle as strong as possible put the above ingredients in it then put the hams in and let them remain for six weeks. Take them out and smoke them for three months. Hams cured in this way will keep good a long time and are very fine flavored. 28. _Tongues._ Cut off the roots of the tongues make a brine like that for curing beef let the tongues remain in it for a week then smoke them eight or ten days. They require boiling four or five hours. The roots make very nice mince pies but are not good smoked. 29. _Curries._ Chickens pigeons mutton chops veal lamb and lobsters make good curries. The meat should be boiled till nearly tender if made of fowls they should be jointed before they are boiled. Put a little butter in a stew pan when melted put in the meat and cover it with part of the liquor it was boiled in let it stew for ten or fifteen minutes. For 4 lbs. of meat mix a table spoonful of curry powder with one of flour or a tea cup of boiled rice put in a little water and a table spoonful of melted butter and half a tea spoonful of salt turn the whole over the meat and let it stew six or eight minutes. 30. _Curry Powder._ Pound fine one oz. of ginger one of mustard one of pepper three of coriander seed the same quantity of turmeric half an oz. of cardamums quarter of an oz. of cayenne pepper the same quantity of cinnamon and cummin seed. Pound the whole well together sift and put them in a bottle. 31. _Chicken Pie._ Joint the chickens and boil them till nearly tender in water just sufficient to cover them. Take them up and lay them in a dish lined with pie crust on each layer of the chickens sprinkle pepper and salt put in a little of the liquor that they were boiled in three or four slices of pork and a small piece of butter sprinkle flour over the whole. Cover it with a nice pie crust ornament it with pastry cut in narrow strips. Bake it an hour and a quarter. 32. _Beef and Mutton Pie._ Take meat that is tender pound it out thin and boil it ten minutes. Take it up cut off the bony and gristly parts season the meat highly with pepper and salt butter it and cut it in narrow strips. Line a deep dish with piecrust put in the meat and to each layer put a tea spoonful of tomato catsup and a table spoonful of water sprinkle flour over the whole and cover it with piecrust ornament it as you please with pastry. Cold roast or boiled beef and mutton cut in bits and seasoned highly with salt and pepper make a nice pie put them in a dish and turn a little melted butter over them pour on water till you can just see it at the top. 33. _Chicken and Veal Pot Pie._ Boil the meat until about half done if chickens they should be jointed. Take up the meat and put it in a pot with a layer of crust to each layer of meat; have a layer of crust on the top cover the whole with the liquor the meat was boiled in. Keep a tea kettle of boiling water to turn in when the water boils away (cold water makes the crust heavy.) If you wish to have it brown heat a bake pan lid and cover the pot while it is cooking which takes about an hour. The crust for the pie is good made like common pie crust only very plain roll it about an inch thick cut it with a tumbler into small cakes. Raised pie crust is generally preferred to any other it is made in the following manner. Rub together three pints of flour one cup of butter half a tea spoonful of salt and then turn in a tea cup of yeast and half a pint of water. Set it in a warm place to rise when risen (which will be in the course of ten or twelve hours in cold weather ) roll it out and cut it into small cakes. If it is not stiff enough to roll out knead in a little flour if too stiff put in a little water. Potatoe pie crust is good boil the potatoes peel and mash them fine put in a tea spoonful of salt a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg and half a pint of milk mix flour with it till of the right consistency to roll out cut it into cakes and put them with the meat. A very good way to make the crust when you happen to have unbaked wheat bread; is to roll out the dough several times and spread butter on it each time let it lay about half an hour before you put it with the meat. 34. _To Frizzle Beef._ Take tender smoked beef and shave it off thin put it in a stew pan with boiling water enough to cover it let it stew ten or fifteen minutes; three or four minutes before it is done thicken the water it is stewed in with a little flour when taken up sprinkle on a little pepper. This makes a nice dish for breakfast provided the beef is moist and tender. 35. _Warmed over Meats._ Boiled or roasted veal makes a nice dish chopped very fine and warmed up with a little pepper a small piece of butter and a little water if you have gravy it is very good instead of the butter and water. A little nutmeg and the rind and juice of half a lemon improve it the rind should be chopped very fine (none of the white part should be used.) When well heated through take it up and cut a couple of lemons in slices and lay over it. Veal and fresh or salt beef are all of them good minced fine with boiled potatoes and warmed up with pepper salt and gravy if you have not gravy use a little butter and water. Some people like boiled onions or turnips chopped fine and mixed with the minced meat instead of potatoes. Veal lamb and mutton are good cut in small strips and warmed with boiled potatoes cut in slices and pepper salt and gravy. Roast beef and mutton if not cooked too much are nice cut in slices and just scorched on a gridiron. Meat when warmed over should only be on the fire just long enough to get heated well through if on the fire long most of the nourishment of the meat will be extracted and it will be very indigestible. Cold fowls are nice jointed and warmed up with a little water and salt then take the fowls out of the water put them in a frying pan that has a little hot butter in it and fry them till of a light brown they should have a little flour sprinkled over them before they are browned. Thicken the water with flour that the fowls were warmed in put a little butter in it and turn it over the meat when taken up. 36. _A Ragout of Cold Veal._ Cut boiled or roasted veal in nice slices flour and fry them in butter till of a light brown. Then take them up and turn a little hot water into the butter they were fried in mix a little flour with water and into the gravy season it with salt pepper mace and catsup if you have any and a little lemon juice. Put in the meat and stew it till very hot. 37. _Drawn Butter._ Mix a couple of tea spoonsful of flour gradually with a little water stir it till free from lumps thin it and stir it into half a pint of boiling water let it boil four or five minutes then put in about a quarter of a lb. of butter previously cut in small pieces set it where it will melt gradually. If carefully mixed it will be free from lumps if not strain it before it is put on to the table. If the butter is to be eaten on fish cut up several boiled eggs into it. A little curry powder sprinkled in it will convert it into curry sauce. 38. _Burnt Butter._ Put a couple of ounces of butter in a frying pan set it on the fire when of a dark brown color put in a table spoonful of vinegar a little pepper and salt. This is nice for fish or boiled eggs. 39. _Roast Meat Gravy._ Meat when put down to roast should have about a pint of water in the dripping pan. If you like your gravy very rich skim off the top of the drippings to your meat and use them if you like it plain stir up the drippings strain them and put in a skillet and boil them. Mix a tea spoonful of flour with a little cold water and stir it into the gravy. Lamb and veal require a little butter in the gravy. 40. _Sauce for cold Meat Fish or Salad._ Mix the yolks of two eggs boiled soft with a mustard spoonful of made mustard a little salt and pepper two table spoonsful of salad oil or melted butter when well mixed put in three table spoonsful of vinegar. A table spoonful of tomato or mushroom catsup improves it. 41. _Wine Sauce for Venison or Mutton._ Warm half a pint of the drippings or the liquor the meat was boiled in. When it boils mix a tea spoonful of scorched flour with a little water and stir it in put in a little pepper salt and quarter of a tea spoonful of cloves put in a table spoonful of currant jelly and half a tumbler full of wine just before you take it from the fire. Many people prefer melted currant jelly to any other sauce for venison. 42. _Rice Sauce._ Boil half a tea cup of rice till soft then stir in two table spoonsful of milk a little salt and a nutmeg or mace sweet herbs a boiled onion and strain it. This is a very nice accompaniment to game. 43. _Oyster Sauce._ Take the juice of your oysters and to a pint put a couple of sticks of mace a little salt and pepper put it on the fire when it boils mix two tea spoonsful of flour with a little milk and stir it in. When it has boiled two or three minutes put in about half a pint of solid oysters a piece of butter of the size of half an egg when scalded through take them up. 44. _Liver Sauce for Fish._ Boil the liver of the fish then mash it fine stir it into drawn butter put in a little cayenne or black pepper a couple of tea spoonsful of lemon juice and a table spoonful of catsup. 45. _Lobster Sauce._ Mash the yolks of two eggs boiled soft with the spawn of the lobster and a tea spoonful of water when rubbed smooth put in a mustard spoonful of made mustard two table spoonsful of salad oil or melted butter a little salt pepper and five table spoonsful of vinegar. 46. _Chicken Salad._ Boil four eggs three minutes take them out of the shell mash and mix them with a couple of table spoonsful of olive oil or melted butter two thirds of a tumbler of vinegar a tea spoonful of mixed mustard half a tea spoonful of salt quarter of a tea spoonful of pepper and a little essence of celery if you have any. Cut up a boiled chicken that weighs two or three pounds into small strips and turn the sauce over it. 47. _Sauce for Turtle or Calf's Head._ To half a pint of drawn butter or thickened beef gravy put the juice of half a lemon a little sage basil or sweet marjoram a little cayenne pepper and a wine glass of white wine just before you take it up. 48. _Apple Sauce._ Pare and quarter the apples take out the cores stew them in cider. When soft take them up put in a piece of butter of the size of a walnut to every quart of the sauce sweeten it to your taste with brown sugar. Another way which is very good is to boil the apples with a few quinces in new cider and molasses enough to sweeten them till reduced to half the quantity. This kind of sauce will keep good for several months. 49. _Pudding Sauce._ Mix a tea cup of butter with two of nice brown sugar when white put in a wine glass of wine or brandy flavor it with nutmeg essence of lemon or rosewater. If you wish to have it liquid make two thirds of a pint of thin starch and stir it into the butter and sugar. If you wish to have it foam put in a little cider. Cider instead of wine or brandy answers very well for common pudding sauce. 50. _Tomato Catsup._ Wipe the tomatoes which should be perfectly ripe. Boil them till soft in a little water. Strain the whole through a sieve season it highly with salt pepper cloves allspice and mace then boil it fifteen minutes. Let it stand twenty four hours then take off the watery part bottle the remainder seal it tight and keep it in a cool place. Made in this way it will keep the year round. The catsup should be stewed in tin and the later in the season it is made the less liable will it be to spoil. 51. _Mushroom Catsup._ Put a layer of fresh mushrooms in a deep dish sprinkle a little salt over them then put in another layer of mushrooms and salt and so on till you get in all the mushrooms let them stand several days then mash them fine; to each quart put a tea spoonful of black pepper put it in a stone jar tightly covered set it in a pot of boiling water boil it two hours then strain it without squeezing the mushrooms. Boil the juice half an hour skim it well let it stand a few hours to settle then turn it off carefully through a sieve bottle cork and seal it tight set it in a cool place. 52. _Essence of Celery._ Steep half an oz. of bruised celery seed in a quarter of a pint of brandy for a fortnight. A few drops of this will give a fine flavor to soup. 53. _Soup Herb Spirit._ Those who like a variety of herbs in soup will find it very convenient to have the following mixture. Take when in their prime thyme sweet marjoram sweet basil and summer savory dry pound and sift them steep them in brandy. The herb spirit will be fit for use in the course of a fortnight. 54. _Veal Soup._ A leg of veal after enough has been cut off for cutlets makes a soup nearly as good as calves head. Boil it with a cup two thirds full of rice a pound and a half of pork season it with salt pepper and sweet herbs if you like a little boiled celery cut in slices or a little essence of celery improves it parsly carrot and onions boiled in the soup are liked by some people. If you wish for balls in your soup chop veal fine mix it with a couple of eggs a few bread crumbs a small piece of butter or raw pork chopped fine put in salt and pepper to your taste or a little curry powder boil them in the soup. Just before you take the soup up put in a couple of slices of toast cut into small pieces. The veal should be taken up before the soup is seasoned. 55. _Black Soup._ The shank of beef is the best part for soup cold roast beef bones and beef steak make very good soup. Boil the shank four or five hours in water enough to cover it. Half an hour before the soup goes on the table take out the meat thicken the soup with scorched flour mixed with cold water season it with pepper salt nutmeg and cloves a little tomato catsup improves it put in sweet herbs or herb spirit if you like. Some people boil onions in the soup but as they are very disagreeable to many persons it is better to boil them and put them in a dish by themselves. Take bread soaked soft mash it well and put in a little of the boiled beef chopped fine a couple of eggs a very little flour season it highly with salt pepper cloves and mace do it up in small balls and boil them in the soup fifteen minutes. 56. _Calf's Head or mock Turtle Soup._ Boil the head till perfectly tender then take it out strain the liquor and set it away till the next day then skim off the grease. Cut up the meat and put it in the liquor together with the lights (the brains should be reserved for the balls) warm it and season it with salt pepper cloves mace and sweet herbs if you like and onions let it stew gently for half an hour. Just before taking it up add half a pint of white wine. For the balls chop lean veal fine with a small piece of raw salt pork add the brains and season it highly with salt pepper cloves mace and sweet herbs or curry powder make it up into balls about the size of half a hen's egg boil part in the soup and fry the remainder and put them in a dish by themselves. 57. _Chicken or Turkey Soup._ The liquor that turkey or chicken is boiled in makes a good soup with half a tea cup of rice and a lb. of pork boiled in it. If you do not like it very fat let it stand till the next day after the turkey is boiled skim off the fat season it with salt pepper and sweet herbs. If you like vegetables in soup boil them by themselves slice them up when done and put them in the turreen with toasted bread cut in small pieces; or toasted crackers. When the soup is hot turn it on them. 58. _Oyster Soup._ Take a couple of quarts of oysters out of the liquor with a fork strain the liquor and if there are any shells in them rinse them off. To each quart put a pint of milk or water. Set them on the fire when it begins to simmer skim it mix three tea spoonsful of flour with a little milk stir it in when the oysters boil when it boils again take it up and season it with salt pepper a table spoonful of tomato catsup a table spoonful of vinegar and a small lump of butter; turn it on to a slice of toast cut in pieces. 59. _Pea Soup._ To a quart of peas put a quart of cold water soak them over night in a warm place. Next day set them to boiling four or five hours before they are to be eaten put in a couple of lbs. of pork to two quarts of the peas add in a little more water if not likely to be sufficiently soft put in a tea spoonful of saleratus half an hour before you take up the soup. 60. _To Bake Beans._ Pick over the beans wash and put them in a pot with cold water enough to cover them hang them over the fire where they will keep just lukewarm. When they begin to grow soft stew them over a hot fire several minutes with a heaping tea spoonful of saleratus. Then take them up with a skimmer and put them in a baking pot gash a lb. of pork and put it down in the pot so as to have the beans just cover it pour in cold water till you can see it at the top. They will bake in a hot oven in the course of three hours; but they will be better to remain in it five or six. Beans are very good stewed without being baked. 61. _Poached Eggs._ Break your eggs into a dish and beat them to a foam. Then put them on a few coals put in a small lump of butter a little salt let them cook very slowly stirring them constantly till they become quite thick then take them up and turn them on buttered toast. 62. _To Boil Eggs._ They should be put into boiling water and if you wish to have them soft three minutes is long enough to boil them if you wish to have them hard they should boil five minutes. Another way to boil them is to break the shells and drop the eggs into a frying pan of boiling water let them boil three or four minutes. If you do not use the eggs as a garnish salt and butter them when you take them up. 63. _Omelet._ Beat your eggs to a froth leaving out half the whites put in a couple of ounces of fine minced ham corned beef or veal when veal is used a little salt will be requisite. Fry it in butter till it begins to thicken. When it is brown on the underside it is sufficiently cooked. If you wish to have it brown on the top put a heated bake pan lid over it as soon as it has set. 64. _Fresh Fish._ Fresh fish for boiling or broiling are the best the day after they are caught. They should be cleaned washed and half a tea cup of salt sprinkled on the inside of them and a little pepper if they are to be broiled. Set them in a cool place. When fresh fish are boiled they should be put in a strainer or sewed up in a cloth carefully; put them in cold water with the backbone down; with eight or ten pounds of fish boil half a tea cup of salt. Many people do not put their fish into the pot until the water boils but it is not a good plan as the outside gets cooked too much before the inside is cooked sufficiently. Fish for frying should be wiped dry after being washed and flour sprinkled on them. For five or six lbs. of fish fry three or four slices of pork when brown take them up and put in the fish if the pork does not make sufficient fat to fry the fish in add a little lard. For good plain gravy mix a tea spoonful or two of flour with a little water and turn in when you have taken up the fish; when well mixed add a little butter and pepper when it boils turn it on to the fish. Boiled fish should be served up with drawn butter or liver sauce. For a garnish to boiled fish boil several eggs five minutes cool them in water then take off the shells and cut them in slices and lay them round the fish; parsly and pepper grass are also a pretty garnish for boiled fish. For broiling fish the gridiron should be greased with a little butter the inside of the fish should be broiled first. 65. _Fresh Cod_ Is good boiled fried baked or made into a chowder. It is too dry a fish to broil. 66. _Halibut_ Is nice cut in slices and broiled or fried; the fins and the thick part are good boiled. 67. _Striped and Sea Bass_ Are good fried boiled broiled baked or made into a chowder. 68. _Black Fish._ Black fish are the best fried or boiled they will do to broil but are not so nice as cooked in any other way. 69. _Shad._ Fresh shad are the best bloated and broiled; but they are good boiled or fried the spawn and liver are nice fried in lard. Salt shad is good boiled without any soaking if liked quite salt if not pour on scalding water and let them soak in it half an hour then drain off the water and boil them twenty minutes. Salt shad and mackerel for broiling should be soaked twenty four hours in cold water the water should be changed several times. To salt twenty five shad mix one pound of sugar a peck of rock salt two quarts of fine salt and quarter of a pound of salt petre. Put a layer of it at the bottom of the keg then a layer of shad with the skin side down sprinkle on the mixed salt sugar and salt petre and so on till you get in all the shad. Lay a heavy weight on the shad to keep it under brine. If there is not brine enough in the course of a week add a little more sugar salt and salt petre. 70. _Chowder._ Fry three or four slices of pork until brown. Cut each of your fish into five or six slices flour and put a layer of them in your pork fat sprinkle on pepper and very little salt cloves and mace if you like lay on several crackers previously soaked soft in cold water and several bits of your fried pork this operation repeat till you get in all your fish then turn on nearly water enough to cover them put on a heated bake pan lid. When the fish has stewed about twenty minutes take them up and mix a tea spoonful of flour with a little water and stir it into the gravy add about an ounce of butter and cloves. Half a pint of white wine and the juice of half a lemon or a tea cup of tomato catsup improve it. Bass and Cod make the best chowder. Some people like them made of clams the hard part should be cut off. 71. _Stuffed and Baked Fish._ Soak bread in cold water till soft then squeeze out all the water mash it and mix it with a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg a little salt pepper cloves and mace a couple of raw eggs makes the dressing cut smoother. Fill the fish with this dressing and sew it up. Put a tea cup of water in a bake pan and a small piece of butter lay in the fish; bake it about an hour. Fresh cod bass and shad are suitable fish for baking. 72. _Salt Cod_ Should be soaked in lukewarm water till the skin will come off easily. Scrape it and change the water and put it over a moderate fire where it will keep warm without boiling boiling hardens rather than softens it. It takes three hours to soak it soft. It should be cut into good square pieces and served up with drawn butter. Cold codfish is good minced up fine with potatoes and warmed up with butter and a little water. 73. _Fish Cakes._ Cold boiled salt or fresh fish are nice mixed up fine with potatoes a little butter put in and moulded up into small cakes with the hand fry them in pork fat or butter. 74. _Lobsters and Crabs._ Put them into boiling water and boil them three quarters of an hour if large if not half an hour will be long enough. Boil two thirds of a tea cup of salt with four or five pounds of lobsters. When cold crack the shells take out the meat. Be careful to get out the blue vein and what is called the lady as they are very unhealthy. Lobsters are good cold or warmed up with a little vinegar pepper salt and butter. A way of dressing them which looks very prettily is to pick out the spawn and red chord mash it fine and rub it through the sieve put in a little butter and salt cut the lobsters into small squares and warm it together with the spawn over a moderate fire. When hot take it up and garnish it with parsly. The chord and spawn when strained are a handsome garnish for any kind of boiled fish. 75. _Scollops._ Are nice fried or boiled and pickled like oysters for frying they should be previously boiled and taken out of the shells and all but the hearts thrown away as the rest is very unhealthy dip the hearts into flour and fry them till brown in lard. The hearts are also good stewed with a little water butter pepper and salt. 76. _Eels._ If very large are best bloated and broiled they should be bloated several hours before cooking them. If not very large fry them in pork fat; large eels are nice cut into small strips and laid in a deep dish with bits of salt pork and pepper and baked for half an hour. 77. _Clams._ Wash and boil them until the shells open with just water enough to prevent their burning at the bottom of the pot. When the shells open take the clams out of them and warm them with a little of the liquor they were boiled in and a little butter pepper and salt. Soak a slice of toasted bread in the clam liquor put it in the bottom of a dish and turn the clams on to it when hot. For clam pancakes take some of the clam liquor and mix with a little flour to a pint of flour put two beaten eggs and a little salt fry them in lard. Very large long clams are nice taken out of the shell without boiling and broiled. 78. _Stew Oysters._ Take the oysters out of the liquor with a fork rinse the bits of shell from them and strain the liquor put the oysters in a stew pan with the juice when scalded through take them up turn them on buttered toast salt butter and pepper them to your taste some cooks add a little catsup or lemon juice. 79. _To Fry Oysters._ Take those that are large dip them in eggs and fine bread crumbs fry them in lard till of a light brown. They are a nice garnish for boiled or fried fish if fried when first caught with a little salt and pepper sprinkled on them will keep good several months provided they are put into a bottle and corked tight as soon as cooked. Whenever they are to be eaten warm them with a little water. 80. _Oyster Pancakes._ Mix the juice of the oysters with flour in the proportion of a pint of liquor to a pint of flour if you have not juice enough put in a little milk or water add a couple of eggs and a little salt to each pint fry them in lard. 81. _Oyster Pie._ Line a deep dish with pie crust fill it with dry pieces of bread; make a nice puff paste and cover the dish with it bake till of a light brown either in a quick oven or bake pan have the oysters just stewed by the time the crust is done take off the upper crust and remove the pieces of bread put in the oysters season them with salt pepper and butter a little catsup improves the pie but is not essential cover it with the crust. 82. _Scolloped Oysters._ Pound crackers or rusked bread till fine butter scolloped tins or shell sprinkle on the crumbs then put in a layer of oysters a small lump of butter a little pepper salt and juice of the oysters put on another layer of crumbs and oysters and so on till the shells are filled having the bread crumbs on top; bake them until a light brown. 83. _Vegetables.--Potatoes._ The best way to cook potatoes is to pare and put them in a pot with just boiling water enough to prevent their burning put in a little salt and cover them up tight let them stew till you can stick a fork through them easily. If there is any water in the pot turn it off and put it back on the fire and let the potatoes steam a few moments longer. The easiest way to cook them is to put them in boiling water with the skins on they should boil constantly till done if you wish to have them mealy; they are more mealy to have the water turned off as soon as you can stick a fork through them easily and put in a warm place where they will steam the lid should be off. Cold mashed or whole potatoes are nice cut in slices and fried in lard or butter. Sweet potatoes are the best baked. Most potatoes will boil sufficiently in half an hour new Irish potatoes will boil in less time. 84. _Turnips._ White turnips require about as much boiling as potatoes. When tender take them up peel and mash them season them with a little salt and butter. Yellow turnips require about two hours boiling if very large they should be split in two. 85. _Beets._ Beets should not be cut or scraped before they are boiled. In summer they will boil in an hour in winter it takes three hours to boil them tender. Boiled beets cut in slices and put in vinegar for several days are nice. 86. _Parsnips and Carrots._ The best way to cook them is to scrape and split them in two put them in a stew pan with the flat side down pour on boiling water enough to cover them when done take them up and butter them. Many people boil parsnips whole but it is not a good plan as the outside gets done too much before the inside is cooked sufficiently. 87. _Onions._ Peel and put them in boiling milk water will do to boil them in but is not as good when done take them up salt them and turn a little melted butter over them. 88. _Artichokes._ Scrape and put them in boiling water with a table spoonful of salt to a couple of dozen when boiled tender (which will be in about two hours) take them up and butter them. 89. _Squashes._ If very young boil them whole if not they should be pared quartered and the seeds taken out boil them till very tender then take them up put them in a cloth and press out the water mash them in a dish salt and butter them to your taste. 90. _Cabbage._ Take off the loose leaves cut the stalky part in quarters to the heart of the cabbage. Boil it an hour if not boiled with corn beef put a little salt in the pot. Cauliflowers will boil tender in fifteen or twenty minutes. 91. _Asparagus._ The tough part should be cut in thin slices and boiled eight or ten minutes before the other part is put in lay the remainder compactly together tie it in small bundles and boil it from fifteen to twenty minutes according to its age. Take it up when tender with a skimmer lay it on buttered toast in a deep dish sprinkle a little salt on it melt a little butter and turn over it. 92. _Peas._ Shell and boil them from fifteen to thirty minutes according to their age and kind if very old a tea spoonful of saleratus boiled with them makes them better and more healthy. When tender take them up salt and butter them to your taste. 93. _Beans._ String beans should have the strings carefully taken off and if old the edges should be cut off; if the beans are old put saleratus in the pot in the proportion of half a tea spoonful of saleratus to a peck of beans it should be put in before the beans. Boil them from twenty five to thirty minutes salt and butter them when you take them up. Beans and all other summer vegetables should not be picked longer than one day before being cooked; the fresher green vegetables are the better they are and more healthy. 94. _Corn_ Should be put in boiling water with a little salt and boiled from ten to twenty minutes according to its age. It is much sweeter to be boiled on the cob. 95. _Greens._ White mustard spinach and the leaves and roots of very small beets are the best greens. Boil them with a little salt and saleratus in the water. 96. _Salads_ Should be fresh and put in cold water for half an hour before they are eaten. Cucumbers to be healthy should not be picked longer than a day before they are eaten they should be kept in cold water and fifteen or twenty minutes before they are eaten pare and slice them into fresh cold water. 97. _To Stew Mushrooms._ Peel and put them in a sauce pan with just enough water to prevent their burning to the bottom of the pan. Put in a little salt and shake them occasionally. When they have stewed about twenty minutes put in a little butter pepper and salt; a little wine and cloves improve them. They should be stewed very slowly and taken up as soon as seasoned turn them on buttered toast. 98. _Egg Plant_ Should be cut in slices about half an inch thick between every slice sprinkle a little salt let them lay two hours before cooking then scrape off the salt and fry them till brown in lard. 99. _Celeriac._ This is an excellent vegetable but it is but little known. The stalks of it can hardly be distinguished from celery and it is much easier cultivated. The roots are nice boiled tender and cut in thin slices and put in soup or meat pie or cooked in the following manner and eaten with meat. Scrape and cut them in slices and boil them till perfectly tender then take them up sprinkle on a little salt and stew them in a little milk four or five minutes turn them into a dish and put in a little butter. 100. _Salsify or Vegetable Oyster._ The best way too cook it is to cut it in slices and dip it into an egg and fine bread crumbs fry it in lard. It is very good boiled and then stewed a few moments in milk and a little butter put on it or cut in slices and fried in butter made like that for oyster pancakes substituting milk for the juice of the oyster. 101. _Tomatoes _ If very ripe will skin easily if not pour on scalding water and let them remain in it four or five minutes. Peel and put them in a stew pan with a table spoonful of water if not very juicy if so no water will be required put in a little salt and stew them in tin for half an hour when done turn them into a dish with buttered toast. Another way of cooking them which is considered very nice by epicures is to put them in a deep dish with powdered bread crumbs or crackers a layer of each alternately sprinkle salt and pepper on each layer and put on small bits of butter over each layer some people like a little nutmeg and sugar. Have a layer of bread crumbs on the top and bake it in a bake pan three quarters of an hour. 102. _Gumb._ Take an equal quantity of young tender okra chopped fine and ripe tomatoes skinned an onion shredded fine a small lump of butter a little salt and pepper put the whole in a stew pan with a table spoonful of water and stew it till tender. 103. _Southern Manner of Cooking Rice._ Pick over the rice and wash it in cold water put it in three quarts of boiling water with half a tea spoonful of salt to a pint of the rice. Boil it seventeen minutes then turn off the water very close put it over a moderate fire with the lid of the pot off let it steam fifteen minutes. Rice boiled in this manner is superior to any other; but care must be taken to be exact in the time of boiling and steaming as a few moments variation makes a great deal of difference with it the water should boil when it is put in the pot and not allowed to stop boiling till done. The water that the rice is cooked in makes nice starch if boiled a few moments by itself. 104. _To Pickle Peppers._ If you do not like them fiery take out the seeds they should be taken out carefully with a penknife so as not to mangle the pepper. Soak them in salt and water eight or nine days change the water each day and keep them in a warm place. If you like them stuffed put in cinnamon cloves mace and nasturtions lay them in cold spiced vinegar. Tomatoes when very small and green are good pickled with the peppers. 105. _Mangoes._ Procure muskmelons as late in the season as possible and those that are very green; if pickled early they are apt to spoil. Take out the seeds and soak them in salt and water three or four days. Then take them out of the water sprinkle powdered cloves and nutmeg round on the inside of the melon fill them with strips of horseradish cinnamon small string beans or flag root nasturtion and radish tops fill the crevices with American mustard seed; put on the covers and sew each one up in a bag. Lay the melons in a stone jar with the side that the covers are on up; turn on scalding hot vinegar with alum pepper corns and salt in it. Pickled barberries are a pretty garnish for them. 106. _To Pickle Butternuts and Walnuts._ The nuts for pickling should be picked as early as the first of July unless the season is very backward if a pin will go through them easily they are in a right state for pickling. Soak them in salt and water a week then drain and scrape or rub them with a cloth sprinkle them with ground cloves and pour on boiling vinegar spiced with cloves pepper corns allspice and mace add a little salt. They will be fit to eat in the course of a fortnight or three weeks. The vinegar they are pickled in makes a nice catsup if boiled down to half the quantity and a little more spice added. 107. _To Pickle Cabbage and Cauliflower._ Purple cabbages are the best for pickling. Pull off the loose leaves and quarter them sprinkle salt on the flat side of each one let them lay several days then rinse off the salt and drain them; sprinkle on powdered cloves mace salt and pour on scalding vinegar with a few peppers in it alum and pepper corns. Cauliflowers are pickled in the same manner as the cabbages. They will be fit to eat in the course of a fortnight after being pickled. 108. _To Pickle Onions._ Peel and boil them in milk and water a few minutes. Put cloves cinnamon mace and salt in vinegar and heat the vinegar scalding hot in brass. Take the onions out of the milk and water drain them then turn on the vinegar scalding hot with two ounces of alum to each pailful of vinegar. Cover them tight until cold. 109. _To Pickle Artichokes._ Soak the artichokes in salt and water a week then drain and rub them till you get all the skin off turn boiling vinegar on them spiced with pepper corns and mace add salt and alum. Let them remain a week then turn off the vinegar scald it and turn it back while hot on to the artichokes. Continue to scald the vinegar at intervals of a week or ten days until the vinegar appears to have entered the artichokes. 110. _To Pickle Cucumbers._ Pour boiling water on them when first picked; and let them lay in it eight or ten hours then put them in cold vinegar with alum and salt in the proportion of quarter of a pound of the first and a pint of the last to every half barrel of pickles. When you have done picking your cucumbers for pickling turn the vinegar from them boil and skim it till clear throw in the cucumbers and let them boil a few moments then put them in fresh cold vinegar with salt and alum; a few peppers improve them. Whenever any scum rises on any kind of pickles turn off the vinegar scald and skim it turn it back when cold on the pickles. Pickles of all kinds should be stirred up occasionally and if there are any soft ones among them they should be thrown away and the vinegar scalded; if very weak it should be thrown away and fresh added. The vinegar when scalded should not be allowed to cool in brass. Another method of pickling cucumbers which is very good is to put them in salt and water as you pick them change the water once in three days; when you have done picking your cucumbers take them out of the salt and water and put them in cold vinegar with alum salt and pepper corns in it. 111. _To Pickle Gherkins._ Put them in strong brine keep them in a warm place when they turn yellow drain off the brine and turn hot vinegar on them let them remain in it near the fire till they turn green turn off the vinegar and pour on fresh hot vinegar spiced with pepper corns mace cloves and cinnamon; add salt and alum in the same proportions as for cucumbers. These as well as all other pickles should not be kept in glazed earthen jars. 112. _Oysters._ Take the oysters from the liquor strain and boil it then put in the oysters let them boil one minute take them out and to the liquor put a few pepper corns cloves a little mace and the same quantity of vinegar as oyster juice boil it fifteen minutes; when cold turn it on to the oysters. Bottle and cork them tight. 113. _Mushrooms._ Peel and stew them with just water enough to prevent their sticking to the bottom of the stew pan shake them occasionally to prevent their burning. When tender take them up and put them in scalding vinegar spiced with mace cloves and pepper corns add a little salt bottle and cork them up. 114. _Wheat Bread._ For six common sized loaves of bread take three pints of boiling water and mix with five quarts of flour; when thoroughly mixed add three pints of cold water stir it till the whole of the dough is equally cold; when lukewarm stir in half a pint of yeast a table spoonful of salt knead in flour till stiff enough to mould up cover it over and if the weather is cold set it near the fire to rise. To ascertain when it is risen cut it through the middle with a knife and if full of small holes like a sponge it is sufficiently light. If the dough gets sour before you are ready to bake it dissolve two or more tea spoonsful of saleratus (according to the acidity of it ) in a cup of water and strain it on the dough work it in well mould it up slash it on the sides to prevent its cracking when baked put it in buttered pans and let it stand ten or twelve minutes before you bake it; if you like it quite brown let it stand in the oven an hour and a half. If the wheat is grown use all boiling water and let it stand till cool before putting in the yeast. Some people have an idea that it kills the life of the flour to scald it but it is a mistake it makes it much sweeter and prevents its moulding soon in warm weather; bread made in this manner is very nearly as good as that which is wet with milk. Care must be taken not to put in the yeast when the dough is hot as it will scald it and prevent its rising. Bread is much better in the winter for being made several days before it is baked it should be kept in a cool place and a little flour knead in every day. Most ovens require heating an hour and a half for bread some will heat sufficiently in an hour a brisk fire should be kept up the doors in the room should be kept shut in cold weather. Pine and ash or birch mixed are the best wood for heating an oven. To ascertain if your oven is of the right temperature when cleared throw in a little flour if it browns in the course of a minute it is hot enough if it turns black wait several minutes before you put in your things if not hot enough set in a furnace of live coals after you have put your things in. 115. _Sponge Bread._ For four loaves of bread take three quarts of boiling water and turn it into three quarts of flour. When lukewarm put in a cup of yeast a table spoonful of salt set it in a warm place to rise when light knead in flour till stiff enough to mould up then let it stand till risen again before moulding it up. 116. _Rye Bread._ Wet up the rye flour with lukewarm milk if you have it; if not water will do and the same proportion of yeast as for wheat flour; put in a small piece of butter and a little salt. It should not be kneaded as stiff as wheat flour as it will be hard when baked; let it stand in the pans after it is moulded up half an hour. Brown Bread is made by mixing Indian meal and Rye flour. The Indian meal should be scalded; when cool put in the rest of the ingredients in the same proportion as for plain rye bread. Bake it between two and three hours. 117. _Rice Bread._ Boil a pint of rice till soft then mix it with two quarts of rice flour a tea cup of yeast two tea spoonsful of salt and milk enough to render it of the consistency of rye bread. When light bake it in small loaves. 118. _French Rolls or Twists._ Turn a pint of lukewarm milk into a pint of flour mix them well together then turn in a small tea cup of yeast two tea spoonsful of salt and flour enough to make a thick batter. Set it in a warm place to rise. When light put in a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg and half a tea cup of lukewarm water the butter should be melted before it is put in; knead in flour until stiff enough to roll out. Let it stand till risen again then roll it out about half an inch thick cut it into narrow strips braid and twist them a little as you braid them. Lay them on flat buttered tins let them remain from twenty to thirty minutes then bake them slowly. 119. _Yeast._ Boil a small handful of hops in two quarts of water when all the strength is obtained from them strain the liquor and put it back on the fire take a little of it and mix smoothly with a couple of table spoonsful of flour mix it with the boiling liquor when it has boiled five or six minutes take it from the fire and when lukewarm add a tea cup of yeast keep it in a warm place till risen then stir in a table spoonful of salt turn it into a jar and cover it up tight. Some people keep yeast in bottles but they are very apt to burst. Yeast made in this manner will keep a fortnight in the warmest weather. If your yeast appears to be sour put a little saleratus in just before you put it into your bread; if it does not foam well it is too stale to use. Another method of raising bread which is very good is to leave about half a pound of dough from one week's baking to another. It should be rolled out thin and dried in the sun about two hours before you wish to bake your bread turn a quart of warm water to it and set it near the fire till light which will be in the course of an hour then scald your dough and when lukewarm stir in the yeast; it will raise the bread in the course of an hour. This can only be used two or three times without having fresh yeast put to it. 120. _Yeast Cakes._ Stir into a pint of yeast a table spoonful of salt and Indian meal sufficient to enable you to roll it out. When rolled thin cut it into cakes with a tumbler and dry them in the wind; in hot weather care must be taken to keep them from the sun or they will ferment; when perfectly dry tie them up in a bag and keep them in a cool dry place. To raise four or five loaves of bread take one of these cakes and put it in half a pint of warm water set it near the fire to rise when light use it to raise your dough. 121. _Biscuit._ Melt a cup of butter and mix it with half a pint of lukewarm milk; if you have not milk water will do add a tea cup of yeast two tea spoonsful of salt and flour to render it sufficiently stiff to roll out. Set it in a warm place when light roll it out about an inch thick cut it with a tumbler into cakes and let them stand half an hour before baking them. 122. _Butter Milk Biscuit._ Dissolve a couple of tea spoonsful of saleratus in a tea cup of milk sour is the best. Mix it with a pint of buttermilk three tea spoonsful of salt; a little cream improves it; knead in flour till stiff enough to roll out. Mould it into small cakes and bake them directly. 123. _Hard Biscuit._ Weigh out four pounds of sifted flour; take out about a quarter of a pound of it rub the remainder with four ounces of butter two tea spoonsful of salt and four eggs. Wet up the whole with milk pound it out flat with a rolling pin sprinkle a little of the reserved flour over it lightly roll it up and pound it out thin again sprinkle on more of the flour roll it up this operation continue to repeat until you get in all the reserved flour. Then mould it up into small cakes lay them on flat buttered tins flatten and cover them with a damp cloth as you lay them on the tins to prevent their drying too fast. Bake them in a quick oven. 124. _York Biscuit._ Rub together six ounces of butter two pounds and three quarters of flour dissolve a couple of tea spoonsful of saleratus in a little milk and mix it with the flour add a tea spoonful of salt and milk sufficient to enable you to roll it out. Pound it out thin and cut it into cakes bake them till a light brown. 125. _Rice Cakes._ Mix a pint of soft boiled rice with a pint of milk or water a tea spoonful of salt and a couple of beaten eggs. Stir in rice or wheat flour till of the right consistency to roll out. Cut them into cakes and bake them. 126. _Rice Ruffs._ To a pint of rice flour put a pint of boiling water a tea spoonful of salt and four eggs beaten to a froth. Drop this mixture into boiling fat by large spoonsful. 127. _Buck Wheat Cakes._ Mix a quart of buck wheat flour with a pint and a half of warm milk (water will do but is not quite as good) and a tea cup of yeast then set it in a warm place to rise. When light (which will be in the course of ten or twelve hours ) add a tea spoonful of salt if sour the same quantity of saleratus dissolved in milk and strained thin them with a little milk. Fry them in just fat enough to prevent their sticking to the griddle or pan. Salt pork rinds beef fat or lard are good to fry them in. 128. _Economy Cakes._ Soak dry pieces of bread in water till soft enough to mash fine squeeze out all the water and to three pints of the bread pulp put a couple of table spoonsful of flour one beaten egg half a tea spoonful of salt the same quantity of saleratus dissolved in a cup of milk and strained. If not thin enough stir in a little more milk. Cook them in the same manner as buck wheat cakes. 129. _Green Corn Cakes._ Mix a pint of grated green corn with three table spoonsful of milk a tea cup of flour half a cup of melted butter one egg a tea spoonful of salt half a tea spoonful of pepper. Drop this mixture by the spoonful into hot butter and fry it eight or ten minutes. These cakes are nice served up with meat for dinner. 130. _Corn Cake._ To a quart of milk put three beaten eggs a tea spoonful of salt mix it with sifted Indian meal enough to make a thin batter. Bake it in a bake pan about one hour. Buttermilk or sour milk with a tea spoonful of saleratus is better to mix with the Indian meal than sweet milk and eggs. 131. _Indian Slap Jacks._ Mix a quart of milk with a pint of Indian meal four table spoonsful of flour three beaten eggs a tea spoonful of salt. A table spoonful of molasses or a little stewed pumpkin is thought by many people to improve them. Fry them in lard. Another way which is very good is to scald a quart of Indian meal and half a pint of wheat flour with milk (water will do but is not as good) stir in a small tea cup of yeast and set them in a warm place to rise. When light fry them in just fat enough to prevent their sticking to the griddle. 132. _Johnny Cakes._ Scald sifted Indian meal put in a little salt mould it with the hand into cakes of the size of biscuit. In order to mould them up considerable flour must be rubbed on the hands. Fry them in fat enough to cover them. When cooked split and butter them. 133. _Hoe Cakes._ Stir up Indian meal with cold water sufficient to make a batter of the consistency of buck wheat cakes add a tea spoonful of salt a table spoonful of melted butter. Butter your bakepan and turn this mixture into it and bake it about an hour. Indian meal wet up in this manner is good fried. 134. _Muffins._ Mix a pint of lukewarm milk with the same quantity of flour a tea spoonful of salt a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg. When light beat a couple of eggs and put in; butter muffin rings and put them in a buttered pie pan turn in the mixture and bake them till of a light brown. 135. _Flour Waffles._ Gradually turn a quart of milk or water on to a quart of flour stirring it well as you turn it in so that it may not be lumpy add a tea cup of yeast a tea spoonful of salt a table spoonful of melted butter a couple of eggs improve them but they can be dispensed with very well. When light bake them in waffle irons well heated and greased with lard before each one is poured in. Bake them on hot coals; when they have been on the fire about two minutes turn the irons and let them brown on the other side. 136. _Quick Waffles._ Into a quart of flour stir slowly a quart of milk or water beat five eggs and put in together with a tea spoonful of salt and a table spoonful of melted butter. They are cooked in the same manner as other waffles. A quarter of a pound of sugar stirred into the mixture improves it. 137. _Rice Waffles._ Mix a quart of milk with a tea cup of boiled rice and a pint and a half of rice or wheat flour. Beat three eggs to a froth and stir in together with a tea spoonful of salt. 138. _Rice Wafers._ Rub a pound of rice flour with quarter of a pound of butter put in a little salt a wine glass of wine two eggs and milk sufficient to enable you to roll them out. When rolled thin cut them with a wine glass into small cakes and bake them. 139. _Observations respecting Sweet Cakes._ If you wish your cake to be good it must be made of nice materials. The butter eggs and flour should not be stale and the sugar should be dry and of a light color. Brown sugar answers for most kinds of cakes if rolled free from lumps and stirred with the butter until it is a very light color. The flour should be sifted and if damp it should be dried perfectly or it will make the cake heavy. Where sifted flour for cake is measured it should be shaken down in the measure to be accurate; if there is not flour enough in cake it will not be light. The eggs should be beaten to a froth on a shallow plate and for very nice cake the whites and yolks should be beaten separately. Where saleratus is used it should be thoroughly dissolved and strained. Raisins for cake should have the seeds taken out and Zante currants should be carefully washed and rubbed in a cloth to get out the sticks; they should be perfectly dried before they are put into the cake. All kinds of cake that has not yeast in it should be stirred till it goes into the oven. It should not be moved while in the oven if it can be avoided. The quicker most kinds of cake are baked without burning the better they will be. It is impossible to give any exact rules as to the time for baking cake as so much depends on the heat of the oven; it should be narrowly watched and if likely to burn covered with a thick paper. To ascertain when rich cake is sufficiently baked stick a clean broom splinter through the thickest part and if none of the cake adheres to it it is baked enough. When cake that is baked on flat tins moves easily on them it is sufficiently done. 140. _Gingerbread._ Melt a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg and put it with a pint of molasses stir in a little flour and a heaping table spoonful of ginger. Dissolve a large table spoonful of saleratus in half a pint of water strain and mix it with the rest of the ingredients together with flour enough to enable you to roll it out easily. Roll it about half an inch thick and lay it on flat buttered tins; bake it as soon as rolled out in a quick oven a few moments. Gingerbread to be very nice should be made of good molasses and baked very quick. Some people use only a tea spoonful of saleratus to a pint of molasses but it is much better with more appearing in point of lightness like sponge cake. 141. _Soft Gingerbread._ Melt a cup of butter and mix it with a pint of molasses a table spoonful of ginger and a little flour dissolve three tea spoonsful of saleratus in a tea cup of water and stir it into the cake together with flour enough to render it of the consistency of pound cake. Bake it in deep cake pans about thirty minutes. A couple of eggs improve the cake. 142. _Ginger Snaps._ Mix half a tea cup of melted butter with a tea cup of sugar half a tea cup of molasses and a table spoonful of ginger. Dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in half a tea cup of water and strain it into the cake knead in flour till quite stiff. Roll it out very thin and cut it into cakes with a wine glass. Lay them on buttered tins and bake them a few moments in a very moderate oven. A tea spoonful of allspice the same quantity of cinnamon mace and coriander seed together with a tea spoonful of ginger instead of a table spoonful put into this cake will convert it into spice snaps. 143. _Cider Cake._ Rub together three quarters of a pound of sugar and half a pound of butter. Dissolve two tea spoonsful of saleratus in half a tea cup of water turn it into the cake together with half a pint of cider stir in two pounds of flour and a grated nutmeg. Bake it about half an hour. This cake should be eaten in the course of two or three days after it is made as it gets dry very quick. 144. _Cookies._ Stir together one cup of butter two of sugar. Dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in a cup of milk (water will do but the cake will not be as rich ) stir it into the cake together with a table spoonful of caraway seed and one egg beaten to a froth knead in flour till of the right consistency to roll out easily. Lay the cake on a moulding board and if you cannot roll it out without its sticking to the rolling pin more flour should be added. Stamp and cut it into cakes lay them on flat tins well buttered bake them in a quick oven. 145. _New Year's Cookies._ Mix one pound of butter a pound and three quarters of sugar dissolve a couple of tea spoonsful of saleratus in a pint of milk and turn it on to the butter and sugar when well mixed beat three eggs to a froth and stir them into the cake with a grated nutmeg and three heaping table spoonsful of caraway seed. Sift three pounds of flour and work into the cake with the hand. Roll them half an inch thick and bake them immediately in a quick oven. 146. _Plain Tea Cakes._ Stir together half a tea cup of butter two of sugar turn in a tea cup of milk with a tea spoonful of saleratus dissolved in it add one half of a grated nutmeg and flour enough to enable you to roll it out cut it into small cakes. 147. _Shrewsbury Cake._ Mix a pound of butter with twelve ounces of sugar add five eggs beaten to a froth a little rosewater or essence of lemon and a pound of flour roll the cake out thin and stamp and cut it into cakes and bake them in a quick oven. 148. _Tunbridge Cake._ Stir six ounces of butter with the same quantity of sugar beat a couple of eggs and put in together with a table spoonful of cream and a little orange flower water or essence of lemon; add three quarters of a pound of flour roll it out thin and cut it into cakes. 149. _Jumbles._ Mix half a pound of sugar with the same quantity of butter five beaten eggs a little essence of lemon; add a pound of flour when well mixed. Roll it about half an inch thick cut it into narrow strips of equal length join the ends together so as to form rings. Bake them on flat tins. 150. _Simbals._ Rub together half a pound of sugar quarter of a pound of butter; dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in half a cup of milk put it into the cake with a couple of beaten eggs a little mace or nutmeg. Then add flour enough to render it sufficiently stiff to roll out. It should be rolled in pounded white sugar cut into strips and the ends joined in the form of rings. 151. _Sugar Gingerbread._ Mix a pound of sugar with six ounces of butter dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in half a tumbler of milk and stir in together with four beaten eggs three tea spoonsful of ginger; when well mixed add a pound and a half of flour and roll it out about an inch thick run a jagging iron across it in parallel lines an inch apart. Bake it on flat buttered tins in a quick oven. 152. _Rusk._ Melt six ounces of butter and mix it with half a pound of sugar turn in half a pint of lukewarm milk half a tea cup of yeast (brewer's is the best ) add three tea spoonsful of cinnamon and flour to make them stiff enough to mould up. Set them in a warm place to rise. When light mould them up into small cakes lay them on tins well buttered let them remain till very light before baking them. 153. _Whigs._ Mix three quarters of a pound of sugar with half a pound of butter; when white beat two eggs and put in together with half a pint of milk half a tea cup of yeast a tea spoonful of rosewater or nutmeg and two pounds of flour. When very light bake them in cups. 154. _Hot Cream Cakes._ Rub together three quarters of a pound of flour a quarter of a pound of butter and half a tea spoonful of salt; beat four eggs to a froth and put in together with a tea cup of cream; drop this mixture into buttered muffin hoops placed in a buttered bake pan; when brown take them up split and butter them. 155. _Cross Buns._ Mix a tumbler of lukewarm milk with a pint of flour a tea cup of yeast a tea spoonful of salt the same quantity of allspice mace and three tea spoonsful of cinnamon set it in a warm place; when light add half a pound of sugar the same quantity of melted butter (it should not be hot ) and flour enough to render it sufficiently stiff to roll out. Put them in a warm place to rise again when risen mould them up into cakes of the size of an egg lay them on buttered tins several inches apart; press on them a mould in the form of a cross let them remain an hour before baking them. 156. _Nut Cakes._ Melt a tea cup of lard and mix it with four tea cups of rolled sugar three eggs well beaten three tea spoonsful of cinnamon or a little rosewater add a pint of lukewarm milk half a pint of yeast and flour to make it stiff enough to roll out. Put it in a warm place to rise (the oven is the best place to raise them in several hours after you have baked in it.) When so light as to appear like a sponge in the middle roll it out about an inch thick and cut it into cakes about three inches long and two wide; let them stand twenty or thirty minutes before boiling them. Fry them in a kettle with about two pounds of hot lard; the fat should boil up as they are put in and not more than seven or eight boiled at once; the kettle should be over a brisk fire and shaken constantly while frying. The same lard will answer to fry several batches of nut cakes in if not burnt with the addition of a little more fat. 157. _Crollers._ Melt your lard in a frying pan to fry your crollers in; take four table spoonsful of it when melted and mix with five heaping table spoonsful of rolled sugar half a tea spoonful of salt four beaten eggs and a little essence of lemon or rosewater. Dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in half a tea cup of milk and turn it in together with flour sufficient to enable you to roll it out easily. Roll it half an inch thick cut it with a jagging iron or knife into strips about half an inch wide twist them into any shape you please. Heat your fat in your frying pan till it boils up as the cakes are laid in. There should be fat enough to cover them watch them narrowly when brown on the under side turn them carefully and let them brown on the other. 158. _Molasses Dough Cake._ Into three tea cups of raised dough work with the hand half a tea cup of melted butter a tea cup of molasses and a couple of eggs beaten to a froth chop the rind of a fresh lemon very fine and put it in together with the juice and a tea spoonful of cinnamon; work it with the hand eight or ten minutes then put it into cake pans well buttered and set it in a warm place about twenty minutes before baking it. 159. _Sugar Dough Cake._ Dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in half a tumbler of milk strain it on three cups of raised dough a tea cup of melted butter two eggs two tea cups of rolled sugar and two tea spoonsful of cinnamon. Work it with the hand for ten or twelve minutes put it in deep pans set it in a warm place for fifteen minutes before you put it in the oven. 160. _Measure Cake._ Stir together till of a light color a tea cup of butter with two of sugar beat four eggs and put in together with a grated nutmeg and a pint of flour. Stir it till just before it goes into the oven bake it in deep tins about twenty minutes. 161. _Cup Cake._ Mix three cups of sugar with one and a half of butter. Beat three eggs and put in together with a little essence of lemon or rosewater. Dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in a tea cup of milk and strain it into the cake. Stir in six cups of sifted flour and bake it either in cups or deep pans. 162. _French Loaf._ Stir together one pound of sugar three quarters of butter. When white mix a gill of wine one of rose or French brandy half a gill of milk and stir it into the cake together with eight eggs beaten to a froth the whites and yolks separate put in a pound and a half of sifted flour just before it goes into the oven; add a grated nutmeg a quarter of a pound of citron or pounded almonds and three quarters of a pound of Zante currants or stoned raisins. 163. _Washington Cake._ Dissolve a tea spoonful of saleratus in a wine glass of milk and put it with half a pound of butter and a pound of sugar previously stirred white add a wine glass of wine four eggs and a pound and a half of flour put in rosewater or essence of lemon to the taste. 164. _Plain Cream Cake._ Mix a tea cup of cream two of sugar a couple of beaten eggs and a wine glass of milk with a tea spoonful of saleratus dissolved in it. Stir in flour to render it of the consistency of pound cake. 165. _Rich Cream Cake._ Stir till white half a pound of butter with three quarters of sugar then add a wine glass of brandy seven eggs beaten to a froth the whites and yolks separate. Stir in a pound and a half of sifted flour and mace to your taste. Just before it goes into the oven stir in half a pint of cream and three quarters of a pound of fruit. 166. _Shelah or quick Loaf Cake._ Melt half a pound of butter when cool work it into a pound and a half of raised dough. Beat four eggs with three quarters of a pound of rolled sugar and put it into the cake together with a tea spoonful of saleratus dissolved in a tea cup of milk add a wine glass of brandy a little mace and cinnamon. Work the whole with the hand for a quarter of an hour add a pound of raisins; then put it into cake pans let it remain twenty five or thirty minutes before baking it. 167. _Loaf Cake._ Into two pounds of flour stir a pound of lukewarm melted butter and a tea cup of yeast put it in a warm place to rise but care must be taken not to get it too warm as the yeast will get scalded and prevent its rising. When perfectly light beat four eggs with a pound and a quarter of sugar and work them into the sponge with a wine glass of wine and one of brandy three tea spoonsful of cinnamon a little mace or nutmeg. Work the whole well with the hand for ten minutes then set it where it will rise again. When risen the second time work it with the hand for fifteen minutes then stir in gradually a pound of stoned raisins and quarter of a pound of citron cut into small strips fill your cake pans about half full put them near the fire for half an hour to rise again in the pans. Bake the cake in a quick (but not a furious oven ) for about an hour and twenty minutes. 168. _Rice Cake._ Mix ten ounces of ground rice three of wheat flour eight ounces of powdered sugar sift them by degrees into eight yolks and six whites of eggs previously beaten to a froth grate in the peel of a lemon and bake it in deep pans about twenty minutes. 169. _Diet Bread._ Sift a pound of flour and put it with a pound of sugar and eight eggs well beaten add a little rosewater or essence of lemon bake it fifteen or twenty minutes. 170. _Scotch or Lemon Cake._ Stir together till white a pound of sugar half a pound of butter; then put in eight eggs beaten to a froth with the grated peel of a couple of lemons and the juice. Sift a pound of flour and stir it in. 171. _Pound Cake._ Mix a pound of sugar three quarters of butter when white put in eight eggs beaten to a froth the whites and yolks separate add a pound of sifted flour and mace to your taste. If you wish your cake to be very rich stir in just before it is put in the oven half a pound of stoned raisins and quarter of a pound of citron or pounded sweet almonds. 172. _Queen's or Heart Cakes._ Rub together till very white a pound of sugar three quarters of butter then beat the whites and yolks of seven eggs separately to a froth and stir them into the cake mix a wine glass of wine one of brandy and one of milk turn it into the cake then stir in a pound of flour a little essence of lemon and mace or nutmeg to your taste. Stir the whole well together then add (a minute before you put it in the pans ) half a pound of raisins seeded quarter of a pound of Zante currants quarter of a pound of almonds pounded fine or citron cut in strips; they should be stirred in very gradually a handful of each alternately; when well mixed in bake the cake immediately in small tins or in large cake pans if baked in the latter it will require baking about an hour and twenty five minutes if baked in small tins it will bake in much less time. 173. _Jelly Cake._ Stir together half a pound of sugar and six ounces of butter beat seven eggs to a froth and put in together with a little mace or nutmeg then stir in gradually a pound of flour and the juice and grated peel of a fresh lemon turn the mixture on to scolloped tin plates well buttered the mixture should not be more than quarter of an inch thick in each one bake them until brown in a quick oven then pile them together on a plate with jelly spread on each one and jelly on the top. 174. _Raised Queen's Cake._ Stir into a pound of flour half a pint of lukewarm milk a tea cup of yeast set it in a warm place; when light stir a pound of sugar with three quarters of butter and work it into the sponge with three beaten eggs a little mace or essence of lemon and half a pound more of sifted flour. Work the whole together for fifteen or twenty minutes then let it remain till very light when so stir in half a pound of seeded raisins quarter of a pound of Zante currants and the same of citron. Bake it directly in a moderate oven but not a slow one. 175. _Sponge Cake._ Take the weight of ten eggs in sifted loaf sugar beat it well with the yolks of twelve eggs then grate in the peel of a fresh lemon and add the juice of half an one. Beat the whites of six eggs to a froth and mix them with the sugar and yolks. Beat the whole well together without any cessation for fifteen minutes on a shallow plate then stir in very gradually the weight of six eggs in sifted flour put it in a moderate oven as soon as the flour is well mixed in and bake it from fifteen to twenty minutes. 176. _Almond Sponge Cake._ Into the whites of sixteen eggs beaten to a froth stir their weight of sifted loaf sugar; beat them well five or six minutes then add the weight of seven whites of eggs in sweet almonds previously blanched dried and pounded fine a table spoonful of cream or lukewarm melted butter beat the ingredients well together then stir in very gradually the weight of the whites of eight eggs in sifted flour; as soon as it is mixed in well bake it in a moderate oven about twenty minutes. 177. _Black or Fruit Cake._ Stir for twenty minutes four pounds of butter with five of sugar. Beat forty eggs the whites and yolks separate and stir them into the butter and sugar then add a table spoonful of cinnamon the same quantity of rosewater a tea spoonful of essence of lemon or three of orange flower water half an ounce of allspice the same of mace and a tea spoonful of cloves. Stir in very gradually five pound of sifted flour. Mix three glasses of white wine three of brandy and two of milk. Stir it with the rest of the above ingredients for twenty minutes then stir in three quarters of a pound of blanched dried and pounded almonds four pounds of stoned raisins five of Zante currants and a pound of citron cut in small pieces the fruit should be stirred in gradually a handful of each kind alternately. Bake it immediately in a moderate oven for about two hours and a half. This kind of cake will keep good four or five months. 178. _Almond Cheese Cake._ Mix half a pound of powdered loaf sugar with four ounces of butter when white add a gill of cream if you have it if not put in the same quantity of boiling milk with an ounce of pounded cracker two ounces of blanched and pounded sweet almonds half a glass of wine a tea spoonful of orange flower or rosewater and half a grated nutmeg. Beat five eggs to a froth the whites and yolks separate and stir into the above mixture; then set it on a few coals and stir it constantly till scalding hot take it off before it boils and stir it till nearly cold then add quarter of a pound of Zante currants. Pour it into patty pans lined with puff paste cut blanched almonds into small slips and ornament the top of the cheese cake with them. Bake them in a quick oven twenty minutes. 179. _Maccaroons._ Beat the whites of nine eggs to a stiff froth then stir in ten large table spoonsful of powdered loaf sugar beat them together well; add quarter of a pound of bitter almonds previously blanched dried and pounded fine and the same quantity of sweet ones. When the whole is well mixed do them up into balls of the size of a walnut lay them on buttered baking plates several inches apart flatten them on the top bake them in a slow oven till of a light brown. 180. _Frosting for Cake._ Allow for each loaf of cake the white of one egg and ten heaping tea spoonsful of powdered double refined loaf sugar. Beat the eggs on a shallow plate till you can turn the plate upside down without the eggs dropping from it. Then stir in the sugar very gradually; stir it without any cessation for fifteen minutes then add a tea spoonful of lemon juice vinegar will do but it is not as good as the lemon juice. If you wish to have it colored stir in a few grains of cochineal powder or a little powder blue. As soon as you have put in the lemon juice lay it with a knife on the cake which should be hot smooth it over and set the cake away in a cool place and let it remain until it hardens. 181. _Cocoanut Cakes._ Beat the whites of eight eggs to a stiff froth then stir in half a pound of sifted loaf sugar; it should be stirred in very gradually and beaten eight or ten minutes then add half a pound of grated cocoanut the brown part should be cut off before it is grated. Put in a table spoonful of the milk of the cocoanut if you have it if not it will do without drop it on buttered pie plates several inches apart the drops should be about the size of a cent. Bake them in a oven about twenty minutes. 182. _Floating Island._ Beat the whites of nine eggs to a froth then beat with them seven large table spoonsful of whatever dark colored jelly you may happen to have. When you have beaten them seven or eight minutes put some cream into a large shallow dish and turn the jelly and eggs into the center of it. This should not be made but a short time before it is to be eaten. 183. _Whip Syllabub._ Take good sweet cream and to each pint of it put six ounces of sifted double refined loaf sugar half a tumbler of white wine the juice and grated peel of a lemon. Beat it well as the froth rises take it off and lay it on jelly in a dish or glasses. Keep it in a cool place till just before it is eaten. 184. _Blanc Mange._ Pull an ounce of isinglass into small pieces rinse and put it to a pint and a half of milk. Stir it over a slow fire with a stick of cinnamon or mace and loaf sugar to your taste. Stir it without boiling until the isinglass dissolves. Then set it where it will boil five or six minutes stirring it constantly. Strain it and fill your moulds with it when cool and let it remain until wanted. 185. _Rice Flour Blanc Mange._ Boil a quart of milk and sweeten it to your taste with loaf sugar; add the juice and grated peel of a lemon. Mix four table spoonsful of ground rice smoothly with a little cold milk and stir it into the boiling milk. Boil the whole together ten minutes stirring it occasionally while boiling; then take it from the fire stir into it the beaten whites of three eggs set it back on a few coals and stir it constantly until nearly boiling hot take it off fill your moulds and let it remain till cold. This is very good food for invalids. 186. _Ice Cream._ To one quart of milk put the yolks of four eggs well beaten the rind of a lemon pared thin sweeten it very sweet with loaf sugar. Put it on a slow fire and stir it constantly till scalding hot care must be taken then it does not get to boiling. Take it up take out the lemon peel set it away to cool. When perfectly cold put it into an ice cream form (if you cannot procure one a milk kettle will do ) set it into a large tub strew round it a layer of ice cracked fine then a layer of rock salt then another layer of ice and salt and so on till the ice is as high as the top of the form; a layer of ice should be last. Shake the form frequently while the cream is freezing; care must be taken that none of the salt gets into the cream. The tub should be covered with a flannel cloth while the cream is freezing. If you wish to shape the cream in moulds turn it into them as soon as it freezes in the form and set them in the tub and let them remain in it till just before they are to be eaten. When you wish to get them out of the moulds or form dip them into warm water and take them out of it instantly and turn them out into your dishes. Where cream is used instead of milk no eggs or scalding will be necessary. Three table spoonsful of pine apple juice to a quart of the cream gives it a fine flavor strawberries are also nice in the cream. If you wish to color the cream stir in a little cochineal powder saffron or powder blue before you freeze it. 187. _Pastry._ For good common pie crust allow two tea cups of shortening to a quart of flour and a tea spoonful of salt half lard and half butter is the best beef shortening does very well with butter for plain pie crust. Rub part of the shortening thoroughly with two thirds of the flour; then put in the salt together with cold water to moisten it just enough to roll out easily. Roll it out thin spread on the reserved shortening then sprinkle on the remainder of your flour and roll it up. Cut it into as many pieces as you have pies roll out the under crust very thin butter your pie plates and put it on them fill your plates with your fruit roll out the upper crust lightly about half an inch thick and cover your pies pare it off neatly round the edges of the plates. This rule furnishes crust enough for a couple of pies. Pie crust to be light should be baked in a quick oven. 188. _Puff Paste or Confectioner's Pastry._ Sift three quarters of a pound of flour and mix it with cold water enough to render it sufficiently stiff to roll out put in one half a tea spoonful of salt before you put in the water. Weigh out a pound of butter cut it into thin slices and roll it out thin as possible on a moulding board; in order to do this a great deal of flour should be sprinkled on the board and butter and rubbed on the rolling pin. Lay your rolled butter on a platter. Then roll out your crust very thin lay the pieces of butter thickly over it. Weigh out a quarter of a pound of sifted flour and sprinkle part of it over it roll it up then roll it out again put on the remainder of the butter and flour roll it up and let it stand half an hour in a cool place. Roll it our lightly half an inch thick for the upper crust to the pies. Bake it in a quick oven till of a light brown. 189. _Apple Pie._ Pare quarter and take out the cores of the apples and if not ripe stew them before baking them and season them to your taste. Butter your plates put on a thin under crust fill the plates and cover them with a thick crust. Bake them about three quarters of an hour. When done take off the upper crust carefully and put a piece of butter of the size of a walnut into each pie sweeten them to your taste if not acid enough squeeze in the juice of part of a lemon or put in a little tartaric acid dissolved in a little water. Essence of lemon nutmeg or rosewater are all good spice for apple pies. Apples stewed in new cider and molasses with a few quinces and strained with a little cinnamon in it makes nice pies. Dried apples for pies should have boiling water turned on them and stewed till tender then add a little sour cider and a little orange peel and stew them a few moments longer take them up put in a little butter sugar and the juice and peel of a lemon improve them they are better for being rubbed through a sieve. Fill your pie plates and bake the pies half an hour. 190. _Mince Pie._ The best kind of meat for mince pies is neats tongue and feet and chickens; a shank of beef makes very good pies. Boil your meat till perfectly tender then take it up clear it from the bones and gristle chop it very fine and mix it with double the quantity of chopped apple; if the meat is not fat put in a little suet or melted butter moisten it with cider add cloves mace or nutmeg and cinnamon to your taste sweeten it with molasses and sugar add a little salt. If you wish to have your pies very rich put in wine or brandy to your taste the juice and peel of a lemon the peel should be grated and stoned raisins and citron cut in small strips. Bake the pies in shallow plates. Make apertures in the upper crust before you cover the pies. Bake the pies from half to three quarters of an hour. Mince meat for pies with brandy or wine in it and strongly spiced will keep several months in cold weather. It should be put in a stone pot and kept in a dry cool place. 191. _Peach Pie._ Take mellow juicy peaches wash and put them in a deep pie plate or pudding dish lined with pie crust sprinkle sugar on each layer of peaches a great deal will be necessary to sweeten them sufficiently put in about a table spoonful of water sprinkle a little flour over the top and cover the pie with a thick crust. Bake it an hour. Pies made in this manner are much better than with the stones taken out as the prussic acid of the stones gives the pie a fine flavor. Dried peaches should be stewed and sweetened before being made into pies; they do not require any spice. 192. _Tart Pie._ Sour apples cranberries and dried peaches all make nice tarts. Stew and strain them; if the peaches are not tart put in the juice and grated peel of a lemon put in a little sugar. Line shallow pie plates with a thin crust put a rim of pie crust round the edge of the dish fill the plates with your tart. Roll some of the crust very thin cut it into narrow strips with a jagging iron and lay it on the pie in a fanciful manner. Bake the pies about twenty five minutes. 193. _Rice Pie._ To a quart of boiling water put a small tea cup of rice and boil it till very soft. Then add a quart of milk strain it through a sieve put in a little salt five beaten eggs a nutmeg grated and sugar enough to sweeten it the sugar should be put in before the rice is strained add a few raisins. Bake it in deep pie plates without an upper crust. 194. _Rhubarb or Persian Apple Pie._ Take the stalks of the rhubarb plant in the spring or fore part of summer (they are not good later ) cut them in small pieces and stew them till tender; then strain and sweeten them to your taste bake them with only an under crust. 195. _Cherry and Blackberry Pies._ Cherries and blackberries for pies should be perfectly ripe; put them in a deep plate with an under crust and sprinkle sugar and cinnamon or cloves over them; cover them and bake them half an hour. 196. _Grape Pie._ Grapes are the best for pies when very small and tender; if not very small they should be stewed and strained on account of the seeds. Sweeten them to your taste no spice is necessary. 197. _Currant and Gooseberry Pies._ Pick them over and stew them in just water enough to prevent their burning at the bottom when tender sweeten them to your taste with sugar and bake them without any spice in deep dishes. Some people do not stew the currants before baking them but they are not apt to be sweet enough if not previously stewed. 198. _Pumpkin Pie._ Cut your pumpkin in two take out the seeds and wash the pumpkin cut it into small strips and boil it in just water enough to prevent its burning when tender turn off the water and let it steam over a moderate fire for fifteen minutes taking care it does not burn. Take it up strain it through the sieve and if you like the pies very thin put two quarts of milk to a quart of the pumpkin and six eggs; if you wish to have them thick put a quart only of milk to a quart of pumpkin and three eggs. Three eggs to a quart of milk does very well but they are better with five or six. Sweeten it with molasses or sugar put in ginger or grated lemon peel to your taste. Bake them in deep plates from fifty to sixty minutes in a hot oven. 199. _Carrot Pie._ Scrape three good sized carrots boil them till very tender. Then rub them through a sieve and mix them with a quart of milk four beaten eggs a piece of butter of the size of half an egg a table spoonful of lemon juice and the grated peel of half a one. Sweeten it to your taste. Bake it in deep pie plates with an under crust and rim. 200. _Potatoe Pie._ Boil Irish or sweet potatoes till very soft. Take them up peel and mash them fine. To one quarter of a pound of potatoes put a quart of milk three ounces of butter melted; five eggs a glass of wine and one of lemon or French brandy. Put in sugar and mace to your taste. 201. _Marlborough Pie._ Pare tart mellow apples quarter them take out the seeds and stew them in a little water till soft enough to rub through a sieve. To twelve table spoonsful of it when strained put twelve table spoonsful of sugar the same quantity of wine five eggs six table spoonsful of melted butter half a pint of milk the juice and grated peel of half a lemon and half a nutmeg. Bake it in deep pie plates without an upper crust. 202. _Custard Pie._ Beat seven eggs with three table spoonsful of rolled sugar mix them with a quart of milk flavor it with nutmeg or rosewater. This is good baked either in cups or deep pie plates with an under crust. Set the pie plates with the crust in the oven and let it bake a moment before you turn in the custard. To ascertain when the pie is done stick a clean broom splinter through the center of the pie if none of the custard adheres to it it is sufficiently bakes. 203. _A Plain Custard Pie._ Boil a quart of milk with a few peach leaves or lemon peel; strain it. Put it back on the fire; when it boils mix a table spoonful of flour with a little milk and turn it in let it boil a minute then put it with four beaten eggs and sugar to your taste and bake it in deep pie plates with an under crust. 204. _Lemon Pie._ Squeeze out the juice of two good sized lemons grate the rind of the lemon but not the white part put the juice and grated lemon to a pint of milk. Beat six eggs with five table spoonsful of powdered loaf sugar and put them in the milk with a couple of crackers pounded fine and a table spoonful of melted butter. Line a pudding dish with pie crust put a rim of puff paste or nice pie crust round the edge turn the mixture into it and bake it from twenty five to thirty minutes. 205. _Cocoanut Pie._ Cut off the brown part of the cocoanut grate the remainder of it. Scald a quart of milk and turn it on to the cocoanut and three crackers pounded fine. Beat eight eggs with three table spoonsful of sifted loaf sugar turn it into the milk together with a glass of wine and half a grated nutmeg. If any of the milk of the cocoanut can be saved to mix with the cow's milk it makes the pie nicer. Bake it in a deep pie plate or pudding dish with a rim of puff paste round the edge of the dish. 206. _Small Puffs._ Make some puff paste and roll it half an inch thick cut it with a tumbler into any number of puffs you want cut the remainder of your paste into narrow strips with a jagging iron put them round the edge of those you have cut with a tumbler lay the puffs on buttered plates and bake them in a quick oven till of a light brown. Then fill them with any preserved fruit you may happen to have. 207. _Boiled Custards._ Boil a quart of milk. Beat six eggs with three table spoonsful of sugar four eggs are enough if you want them plain grate in a nutmeg or put in a little rosewater or essence of lemon. Turn the boiling milk on to the sugar and eggs stir it several minutes then put it on a few coals stir it constantly till boiling hot take it up before it gets to boiling stir it a few moments then turn it into your cups and grate nutmeg on them. 208. _Almond Custards._ Boil in a quart of milk a couple of ounces each of sweet and of bitter almonds pounded fine. When it has boiled seven or eight minutes strain it on to the beaten yolks of eight eggs and three table spoonsful of loaf sugar. Stir it several moments then put it on a moderate fire stir it without any cessation till scalding hot then take it from the fire and stir it constantly till nearly cold then fill your glasses or cups. Just before they are to be eaten beat the whites of the eggs to a froth and lay them on the top of the custards. A few grains of cochineal powder or saffron in the beaten whites makes them look handsomely. 209. _Cold Custard or Rennet Pudding._ Put a piece of calf's rennet three inches square to a pint of wine when it has stood seven or eight hours it is fit for use. Whenever you wish to make your custard put three table spoonsful of the wine to a quart of milk and four table spoonsful of powdered loaf sugar flavor it with essence of lemon or rosewater. Stir it twenty minutes then dish it out grate nutmeg over it. It should be eaten in the course of an hour after it is made as it will soon curdle. 210. _Custard Pudding._ Stir a quart of milk very gradually into half a pint of flour put in a little salt seven beaten eggs and a little nutmeg or essence of lemon sweeten it to your taste bake it three quarters of an hour. 211. _Boiled Bread Pudding._ Soak about three quarters of a pound of rusked bread in milk if you have not milk water will do. When soft squeeze out the water mash it fine and put in a heaping table spoonful of flour mixed with a tea cup of milk put in three eggs half a tea spoonful of salt. Mix the whole well together flour the inside of your pudding bag and put the pudding in. The bag should not be more than two thirds full as the pudding swells considerably while boiling. The pudding should be put into a pot of boiling water and boiled an hour and a half without intermission; if allowed to stop it will be heavy. 212. _A Plain Baked Bread Pudding._ Pound rusked bread and put five heaping table spoonsful of it to a quart of milk three beaten eggs four table spoonsful of sugar half a tea spoonful of salt half a nutmeg and a table spoonful of melted butter. Bake it an hour and a half; it is good without the eggs if baked two hours and a half. It does not require any sauce. 213. _A Rich Bread Pudding._ Cut a loaf of baker's bread into thin slices spread butter on both sides; lay them in a buttered pudding dish and on each layer strew Zante currants or stoned raisins and citron cut into small pieces. Beat eight eggs with six table spoonsful of sugar rolled free from lumps; mix them with three pints of milk and a grated nutmeg. Turn the whole over the bread and let it stand until the bread has absorbed most of the milk then bake it about three quarters of an hour. 214. _Flour Pudding._ Into a pint and a half of flour stir gradually a quart of milk; stir it till free from lumps then add seven beaten eggs a couple of tea spoonsful of salt and a grated nutmeg. A pudding made in this manner is good either baked or boiled; it takes two hours to boil and one to bake it. It should be eaten as soon as cooked or it will be heavy. This as well as all other kinds of boiled puddings should not be put into the pot until the water boils and should not be allowed to stop for a moment if the water wastes much in boiling fill the pot up with boiling water. A pudding bag should be floured on the inside and not filled more than two thirds full. When the pudding has boiled six or eight minutes turn it over as it is apt to settle. Flour puddings require rich sauce. 215. _A Plain Rice Pudding._ Swell the rice with a little milk over a fire then put in acid apples pared and cut in thin slices or gooseberries and currants add a couple of eggs a tea spoonful of salt fill your pudding bag half full and boil it an hour and a half. Serve it up with butter and sugar. 216. _A Rich Rice Pudding._ Pick over and wash two small tea cups of rice and put it into two quarts of milk; add a tea cup of butter two of sugar and a grated nutmeg. Butter a pudding dish set it in a bake pan then turn in the pudding when it begins to thicken stir in three tea cups full of raisins. Bake it two hours it will not fall if taken from the fire sometime before it is to be eaten it is also good cold. It is good without any sauce and is the only kind of pudding that eggs do not improve. 217. _Rice Snow Balls._ Pare large tart apples take out the cores with a pen-knife; fill the holes with sugar and a stick of cinnamon or mace. Put each one in a small bag well floured fill them half full of unboiled rice tie up the bags and boil them an hour and twenty minutes. When done turn them out carefully and serve them up with pudding sauce. 218. _Baked Indian Pudding._ Boil three pints of milk and turn it on to a pint of Indian meal and five table spoonsful of wheat flour. When cool beat three eggs with the same quantity of sugar and stir it into the pudding together with a tea spoonful of salt three tea spoonsful of cinnamon and a piece of butter of the size of an egg. If raisins are put in the pudding a tea cup more of milk will be required as they absorb the milk. This pudding is good if the eggs are omitted. It takes two hours and a half to bake it. 219. _Boiled Indian Pudding._ Into a quart of boiling milk stir a couple of table spoonsful of flour and sifted Indian meal till it is a thick batter and half a table spoonful of ginger or cinnamon half a tea cup of molasses. Dip the pudding bag into water wring it out and flour the inside of it and fill it not more than half full as Indian puddings swell very much. Put it into boiling water and keep it boiling constantly for four or five hours. A kettle of boiling water should be kept to turn into the pudding pot as the water boils away. 220. _Corn Pudding._ Grate a cup and a half of green corn mix it with a quart of milk four beaten eggs and half a grated nutmeg; melt a piece of butter of the size of a hen's egg and stir it in. Bake it one hour. 221. _Hasty Pudding._ Wet Indian meal with cold water sufficient to make a thin batter turn part of it into a pot of boiling water; when it has boiled fifteen or twenty minutes stir in the remainder salt it to your taste and stir in Indian meal by the handful as long as you can stir the pudding stick round in it easily. When the stick can be made to stand upright in it for a minute it is thick enough. It should boil slowly and be stirred often; if you wish to fry it it will be necessary to boil it from two to three hours if not it will boil sufficiently in an hour. If a little flour is stirred in just before it is taken up it will fry better. Turn it into a deep dish and if it is to be fried let it stand till cold then cut it into thin slices flour and fry them in lard till very brown. 222. _Fruit Pudding._ Take raised or common pie crust and roll it out about half an inch thick. Strew over it either currants cherries cranberries gooseberries black or whortle berries. Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon or cloves over them. Roll it up carefully join the ends together and put it in a floured cloth and sew it up. Boil it an hour and eat it with sauce as soon as done. 223. _Fritters._ Mix a quart of milk gradually with a quart of flour stir it till smooth then add a little essence of lemon or rosewater and five beaten eggs. Drop it into boiling hot fat by the spoonsful. They are lighter for being fried in a great deal of fat but less greasy if fried in just enough to prevent their sticking to the griddle. They should be served up with pudding sauce. 224. _Apple Dumplings._ Make good common or raised pie crust divide it into as many pieces as you wish dumplings. Pare tart mellow apples take out the cores with a penknife fill the holes with a blade of mace and sugar. Roll out your crust half an inch thick and enclose an apple in each piece. Tie them up in separate bags that are floured inside. Drop them into a pot of boiling water and boil them without any intermission for an hour then take them out of the bags. If allowed to stop boiling they will not be light. Eat them with butter and sugar or pudding sauce. 225. _Orange Pudding._ Mix three ounces of butter with four table spoonsful of powdered loaf sugar when stirred to a cream add a quart of boiling milk the juice and peel of two large oranges the peel should be chopped very fine put in a gill of wine then an ounce of citron cut into small strips add eight eggs the whiles and yolks beaten separately. Mix the whole well together then turn it into a pudding dish with a lining and rim of puff paste. Bake it directly in a quick oven from twenty-five to thirty minutes. 226. _Bird's Nest Pudding._ Pare and halve tart mellow apples scoop out the cores put a little flour in the hollow of the apples and wet it so as to form a thick paste stick a blade or two of mace and three or four Zante currants in each one of the apples. Butter small cups and put half an apple in each one lay three or four narrow strips of citron round each apple. Mix a quart of milk with three table spoonsful of flour six eggs a grated nutmeg and four table spoonsful of sugar. Nearly fill the cups with this mixture. Bake them about thirty minutes. They should be eaten as soon as done. 227. _Apple Custard Pudding._ Pare and take out the cores of nice tart apples lay them in a pudding dish well buttered fill the holes of the apples with nutmeg and sugar. For nine or ten apples mix half a pint of flour with a quart of milk four table spoonsful of sugar and seven eggs turn it over the apples flavor it with whatever spice you like and bake it about half an hour. 228. _English Plum Pudding._ Soak three quarters of a pound of finely pounded crackers in two quarts of milk. Put in twelve beaten eggs half a pound of stoned raisins quarter of a pound of Zante currants the same weight of citron cut into small pieces and five ounces of blanched and pounded almonds; add a wine glass of lemon brandy or wine and a little orange flower or rosewater and a little salt. Bake or boil it from two hours and a half to three hours. 229. _Transparent Pudding._ Melt half a pound of butter and stir it into the same weight of double refined loaf sugar add half a tea spoonful of essence of lemon eight eggs the whites and yolks beaten separately and a couple of table spoonsful of cream. Set the whole on a few coals stir it constantly till it thickens take it off before it gets to boiling and stir it till nearly cold then turn it into a dish lined with pastry put a rim of puff paste round the edge and bake it half an hour. It will cut light and clear. 230. _Lemon Syrup._ Mix a pint of lemon juice with a pound and three quarters of lump sugar. Dissolve it by a gentle heat skim it until clear then add one ounce of thin cut lemon peel and simmer if gently for a few moments. Strain it through a flannel bag; when cold bottle cork and seal it tight keep it in a cool place. Another method of making it which is cheaper and very good is to dissolve half an ounce of citric acid in a pint of clarified syrup by a gentle heat; when cool put in a few drops of oil or a little essence of lemon. 231. _Orange Syrup._ Take nice fresh oranges squeeze out the juice and strain it; to a pint of juice put a pound and a half of while sugar. Dissolve it over a moderate fire put in the peel of the oranges and let the whole boil eight or ten minutes. Strain it till clear through a flannel bag bottle and cork it tight. This is nice to flavor puddings and pies or sherbet. 232. _Blackberry Syrup._ Pick over blackberries that are perfectly ripe boil them in their juice till they break to pieces then strain them through a flannel cloth and to each pint of juice put a pound of sugar. Boil it again for ten minutes then strain it and add a wine glass of brandy to each pint of syrup. When cool bottle and cork it tight and set it in a cool place. This mixed with cold water in the proportion of a wine glass of it to two thirds of a tumbler of water is a very agreeable summer beverage it also possesses fine medicinal properties. 233. _Clarified Syrup for Sweet Meats._ For most kinds of fruit one pound of sugar to one of the fruit is sufficient to preserve them; some kinds of fruit will do with less. Put your sugar into your preserving kettle and turn in as much cold water as you think will cover your fruit when put in add the white of an egg to every three pounds of sugar then put it over a slow fire; when the sugar has dissolved put it where it will boil let it boil several minutes then take it from the fire and skim it till clear put it back on the fire when the scum rises again take the kettle off and skim it again this operation repeat till it is perfectly clear then put in the fruit. If you have not syrup enough to cover the fruit take the fruit out and put in more cold water and let it get to boiling before you put in the fruit if you have too much syrup it should boil away before you boil your fruit in it. White sugar is better than brown for preserving but brown sugar answers very well for common sweet meats. Every kind of ware but iron will do to preserve in but earthen ware is the best on account of its not imparting an unpleasant taste to the sweet meats. 234. _To Preserve Quinces._ Quinces if very ripe are best pared and cut in slices about an inch thick the cores should be taken out carefully with a small knife then put the quinces in clarified syrup and boil them till you can stick a broom splinter through them easily take them up and put them in jars and turn the syrup over them cover them up and put them in a cool place as soon as done. Quinces preserved in this manner retain more of their natural flavor but they cannot be preserved in this way without they are very ripe. If not very ripe pare and halve them and take out the cores. Boil the quinces till tender then take them out strain the water they were boiled in and use it to make a syrup for the quinces allow a pound of sugar to a pound of the fruit when clarified put in the quinces and boil them slowly half an hour. Set them away in jars covered with a paper wet in brandy. Look at them in the course of three or four days and if they have begun to ferment turn off the syrup and scald it then turn it back on the quinces. Some people boil the cores of the quinces with them but the syrup does not look as nice for it. A cheap way of preserving quinces which is very good for common use is to boil the parings and cores in cider till tender then strain the cider and for ten pounds of quince put in two pounds of brown sugar and a couple of quarts of molasses and the beaten whites of two eggs; put it on the fire clarify it then put in the quinces which should be pared and halved put in the peel of an orange boil them till tender. 235. _Quince Marmalade._ Wash and quarter them put them on the fire with a little water and stew them till tender enough to rub through a sieve. When strained put to a pound of pulp a pound of brown sugar set it back on the fire and let it stew slowly stir it constantly. To ascertain when it is done take a little of it out and let it get cold if it then cuts smooth and clear it is sufficiently stewed. Crab apple marmalade is made in the same manner. 236. _To Preserve Pears._ Take an ounce of race ginger for every pound of pears. Scrape off the skin cut it into thin slices and boil it until tender then take it from the fire put in your sugar allowing three quarters of a pound to a pound of the pears set it on the fire clarify it then put in the pears if very small they are good preserved whole boil them till tender then put them in jars tightly covered set them away in a cool place. In the course of five or six days boil the syrup again and turn it on them while hot. Choke and Vergoulouse are the best pears for preserving. The ginger can be omitted if not liked. 237. _To Preserve Peaches._ Pare your peaches which should be very ripe and if you wish to preserve them whole allow a pound of sugar to a pound of fruit. Take lump sugar break it into small pieces and dip each piece into cold water let it be in just long enough to get saturated with the water then put the lumps into a preserving kettle set the kettle over a slow fire when the sugar has dissolved put in your peaches boil them twenty minutes. These as well as all other sweet meats should be set away in a cool place as soon as done if allowed to stand by the fire for a few hours the syrup will not look clear; all preserves should be covered up tight. Let them remain several days then turn the syrup from them scald it and turn it back on to them while hot. If you preserve your peaches without the stones three quarters of a pound of sugar to a pound of fruit is sufficient take those that are mellow and juicy pare and halve them take out the stones put them in a deep dish; on each layer of peach sprinkle your sugar let them stand three or four hours then put them on the fire with very little water let them boil slowly for twenty minutes. 238. _To Preserve Currants._ Take your currants from the stems for a pound of currants allow a pound of sugar. Make some syrup clarify it and put in the currants let them boil slowly for a few moments. A table spoonful of these mixed with a tumbler of water is a very wholesome drink in the summer. 239. _To Preserve Barberries._ Pick over your barberries and put them in clarified syrup boil them half an hour. Molasses does very well to preserve barberries in for common use with a little orange peel boiled with them. Preserved barberries mixed with water is a very refreshing drink in fevers. 240. _To Preserve Ginger._ Take green ginger and soak it until you can scrape off the outside when scraped soak it in salt and water one day then take it out of the salt and water and boil it till tender. Make a syrup of white sugar allowing equal weights of sugar and ginger when clarified take it off and when cold turn it on the ginger let it remain a week then boil the ginger and syrup together until the syrup appears to have entered the ginger when cool put in a little essence of lemon. 241. _To Preserve Apples._ Take nice tart apples halve and quarter them and take out the cores. For a pound of apples allow three quarters of a pound of sugar. When you have clarified your syrup put in the apples with the skin of a lemon pared thin. When the apples are tender take them up and let the syrup remain till cold then turn it over them. Apples preserved in this manner will keep but a few days. Crab apples should be preserved whole with the skins on and to a pound of the apples put a pound of sugar. 242. _To Preserve Cymbelines or Mock Citron._ Cut and scrape the rinds of cymbelines put them in strong salt and water let them remain in it a week then in fair water three days changing the water every day then soak them in alum water an hour. Tie up oyster shells in a cloth and boil them with the cymbelines. When the cymbelines are tender take them up and put them in alum water. Make your syrup allowing a pound and a half of sugar to a pound of the melon boil your cymbelines in it three quarters of an hour. These are good eaten as any other preserves or put in cake instead of citron. 243. _To Preserve Watermelon Rinds._ Take the rind of a nice watermelon cut it in strips and boil them a quarter of an hour with a tea spoonful of saleratus to three or four quarts of water then soak them in alum water an hour rinse and put them in clarified syrup and boil them twenty minutes. When they have stood three or four days turn the syrup from them and boil it then turn it back on the rinds while hot. Allow equal weights of rinds and sugar. 244. _To Preserve Cherries._ Allow three quarters of a pound of sugar to a pound of cherries. Make your syrup allowing half a pint of water to two pounds of cherries put in your cherries shake them occasionally to prevent their sticking to the kettle. When the syrup is colored strain the cherries. 245. _To Preserve Muskmelons._ Procure muskmelons that are perfectly green the later in the season the better. Scrape off the skin of the rind taking care not to scrape the green part. Cut them through the middle and take out the seeds then cut them in the form of rings an inch thick. Put them in salt and water and let them lay several days then in fair water one day changing the water several times; take them out and soak them in alum water one or two hours. Take race ginger the green is the best soak it until you can scrape off the outside cut it in slices and boil it until tender. Boil your melons in fresh water with a handful of peach leaves and the ginger allowing half an ounce to each pound of fruit. When the melon is tender put it in alum water together with the ginger. Make the syrup for the melons allowing a pound of white sugar to a pound of the fruit when clarified put in the melons and boil them together with the ginger half an hour take them up turn the syrup over them when cool drop in a little essence of lemon. When they have stood several days turn the syrup from them boil and turn it back while hot to the melons. 246. _To Preserve Pine Apples._ Pare off the rind of the pine apples cut them in slices an inch thick. Weigh out a pound of white sugar allowing a pound of it to each pound of fruit lay your pine apples in a deep dish on each layer of it sprinkle some of your sugar (which should be powdered.) Set the pine apples away till the next day reserving part of the sugar. Then turn the syrup from the pine apples into your preserving pan add your reserved sugar put in a tea cup of water to the juice of four or five pine apples clarify it then put in the apples and boil them till tender. Let the whole stand in a dish several days and if there is any appearance of fermentation put it in a preserving pan scald it through then turn it into glasses and set it in a cool place. 247. _To Preserve Pumpkins._ Take a good sweet pumpkin halve it take out the seeds and cut it in chips of the size of a dollar. To each pound of pumpkin allow a pound of powdered loaf sugar and a gill of lemon juice. Put your pumpkin chips in a dish and to each layer put a layer of sugar turn the lemon juice over the whole and let it stand a day then boil it till tender with half a pint of water to four or five pounds of the pumpkin. Tie up ginger in a bag and boil with it also the rind of several lemons cut into chips. 248. _To Preserve Gages._ Take equal quantities of fruit and sugar. Make a syrup of the sugar (which should be white ) with a little water when it boils drop in the plums boil them very slowly for a few moments then take them up into dishes and let them remain several days then boil them again until the syrup appears to have entered them. Put the plums in jars boil the syrup again in the course of two or three days and turn it over them. 249. _To Preserve Strawberries._ Take Chili or field strawberries and hull them. Take equal quantities of fruit and white sugar and put a layer of each alternately in a preserving pan having a layer of strawberries at the bottom let them stand for half an hour then put a gill of cold water with them to prevent their burning at the bottom of the pan. Set them over a moderate fire when the juice runs freely increase the fire until they boil briskly when they have boiled half an hour take them up turn them into bottles cork them tight and dip the mouths of the bottles into hot sealing wax. Keep them in dry sand. 250. _Blackberry and Raspberry Jam._ For a pound of berries allow a pound of brown sugar put a layer of each alternately in a dish let them stand two or three hours strain them put them over a moderate fire and boil them half an hour. 251. _Strawberry Blackberry and Raspberry Jelly._ Pick over your fruit carefully then mash and squeeze the berries through a flannel bag to each pint of juice put a pound of white sugar set it on the fire when it has boiled seven or eight minutes take it from the fire and skim it till clear then put it back on the fire; as fast as the scum rises take it from the fire and skim it. To ascertain when it is done take a little of it from the fire and let it be till cold. 252. _Cranberry Grape and Currant Jelly._ Wash and drain the berries till nearly dry then put them in a preserving pan with a plate at the bottom heat them till they break then strain them through a flannel cloth; to each pint put a pound of white sugar. Boil and skim them till perfectly clear the kettle should be taken from the fire when skimmed. When the jelly has boiled four or five hours take a little of it up and put it in a tumbler of cold water if it sinks to the bottom in a solid mass it is done sufficiently. Jellies are improved by being put in the sun for several days. Care must be taken that the dew does not fall on them. 253. _Quince Jelly._ Halve your quinces take out the cores and boil the quinces until very soft in just sufficient water to cover them then squeeze them through a flannel bag and to a pound of quince pulp put a pound of white sugar. Boil and skim it till clear; when it becomes a jelly strain it again fill your glasses and cover them tight. 254. _Apple Jelly._ Take greenings pippins or crab apples halve them and take out the cores boil them till tender in water just sufficient to cover them boil with them the peel and juice of a lemon to every three pounds of the apple. Strain the apple and to each pound put a pound of loaf sugar. Boil and skim it till clear; when it becomes a jelly take it up color it if you like either with saffron beet juice or cochineal. Strain it and put it in glasses and set them in a cool place. 255. _Lemon Jelly._ Put on a slow fire an ounce and a half of isinglass (pulled into small pieces ) a pint of water with the rind of several lemons; when dissolved put in a pint of lemon juice a pound and a half of white sugar color it with a few grains of saffron strain it through a flannel bag then boil it ten or fifteen minutes strain it till clear let it remain till nearly congealed then fill your glasses or moulds with it. To get it out of the moulds dip them into lukewarm water for a minute the jelly will then come out easily. 256. _Calf's Foot Jelly._ To four feet put four quarts of water boil them till tender and the water boils away to one quart. Take it off let it stand till cold then skim off the fat carefully and put the jelly into a preserving pan and set it on the fire; when it melts take it from the fire put in the beaten whites of seven eggs a little cinnamon half a pint of white wine the juice of two lemons and the rind leaving out the white part; sweeten the whole to your taste with loaf sugar. Put it back on the fire and boil it fifteen minutes then strain it through a flannel bag without squeezing it if it is not clear the first time it is strained strain it till it is. The bag should be suspended on a nail over a dish and the jelly poured into it and allowed to drain through it gradually. When clear turn it into cups or glasses and set them where the jelly will congeal but not so cold as to freeze it. This kind of jelly will not keep longer than two or three days in warm weather. A knuckle of veal makes a jelly as good as calves' feet it is made in the same manner. Jellies and sweet meats are less liable to ferment if kept in glass jars or bottles. A paper wet in spirits and put over sweet meats has a tendency to prevent their fermenting. Sweet meats should be carefully watched during warm weather and if fermentation commences turn the syrup from them scald it and turn it back. 257. _Coffee._ To make good strong coffee allow for each person a heaping table spoonful of ground coffee and a pint of water. Put your coffee into a tin pot with a piece of fish skin about the size of a ninepence to two or three quarts of water turn on your water boiling hot and boil the coffee from fifteen to twenty minutes take it off and let it stand to settle five or six minutes then turn it off carefully. French coffee is made in a German filter the water is turned on to it boiling hot an ounce to each person is allowed put in a piece of fish skin before you turn on the water. When cream cannot be preserved for coffee boiled milk is a good substitute. Many people dislike to settle coffee with fish skin thinking it imparts a disagreeable taste to the coffee but it is owing to its not being prepared properly the skin should be taken from mild codfish washed and cut into small pieces and dried perfectly. The white of an egg egg shells and isinglass are all good to settle coffee. The best kind of coffee is old Java and Mocha; before it is roasted it should be hung over the fire two or three hours to dry if dried in the oven it looses its strength it should be hung at such a distance from the fire as to be in no danger of burning. When dry put it on hot coals and stir it constantly till done which is ascertained by biting one of the lightest kernels if it is brittle the whole is done. Put it in a box and cover it up tight to keep in the steam. Coffee is much better roasted in a coffee roaster than a kettle as the fine aromatic flavor of the coffee is preserved which escapes in a great measure when roasted in an open kettle. 258. _To make Tea._ Scald your tea pot and put in a tea spoonful of tea for each person that is to drink it if it is a weak kind of tea more will be required pour on just boiling water enough to cover it let it stand six or eight minutes not longer if you wish to have it in perfection pour on the rest of the water boiling hot. 259. _Chocolate._ Scrape the chocolate off fine and mix it smoothly with a little cold milk or water. If liked very rich make it entirely of milk if not use equal quantities of milk and water boil it then stir in the chocolate while boiling sweeten it to your taste let it boil five or six minutes; if liked rich grate in a little nutmeg. A heaping table spoonful of grated chocolate to a pint of milk or water is the right proportion. 260. _Hop Beer._ For three gallons of beer take nine quarts of water six ounces of hops. Boil the hops in half the water three hours strain it then boil the hops again in the remainder of the water three hours longer with a tea cup of ginger. Strain and put it with the rest of the liquor and two quarts of molasses and when lukewarm put in a pint of new yeast without any salt in it. Keep it in a temperate place till it has ceased fermenting which is ascertained by the froth subsiding. Turn it off carefully into a cask or bottle it; it should not be corked very tight or it will burst the bottles. Keep the bottles in a cool place. 261. _Spruce Beer._ Take five gallons of water and boil with a couple of ounces of hops when it has boiled four or five hours strain it put to it two quarts of molasses when lukewarm put in a pint of fresh yeast without any salt in it (brewer's is the best ) put in three table spoonsful of the essence of spruce. A decoction made of the leaves of white or black spruce is equally as good as the essence; boil the hops with the leaves. Let the beer stand in a temperate situation several days exposed to the air then put it in a cask or bottle it it will be fit to drink in the course of a few days. This is a nice summer drink and a powerful antiscorbutic. 262. _Spring Beer._ Take a small bunch each of sarsaparilla sweet fern wintergreen sassafras and spice wood boil them with three ounces of hops to six gallons of water pare two or three raw potatoes and throw them into the beer while it is boiling. When it has boiled five or six hours strain it and put to it three pints of molasses when cool stir in a pint of fresh yeast if the beer is too thick dilute it with a little cold water. When fermented bottle and keep it in a cool place. 263. _Ginger Beer._ Take three table spoonsful of ginger one of cream of tartar and boil them gently in a gallon of water with a lemon cut in slices; sweeten it to your taste with loaf or Havana sugar boil it three quarters of an hour. Strain it and when cool put in a tea cup of yeast; as soon as it has ceased fermenting bottle it. 264. _A good Family Wine._ Take equal parts of red and white currants grapes raspberries and English cherries bruise and mix them with soft water in the proportion of four pounds of fruit to one gallon of water let the liquid remain for two or three hours then strain it and to each gallon of wine add three pounds of sugar. Let it stand open three days stirring it frequently skim and put it in a cask place it in a temperate situation where it will ferment slowly when fermented add to it a ninth part of brandy and stop it up tight. In two or three years it will be very rich. 265. _Currant Wine._ Strain the currants which should be perfectly ripe to each quart of juice put two of water and three pounds of sugar. Stir the whole well together and let it stand twenty four hours then skim it and set it in a cool place where it will ferment slowly let it remain three or four days if at the end of that time it has fermented add one quart of French brandy to every fifteen gallons stop it tight when it is clear it is fit to bottle. This wine is better for being kept several years. 266. _Raspberry Shrub._ To a quart of vinegar put three quarts of fresh ripe raspberries let it stand a day then strain it and to each pint put a pound of white sugar. Put it in a jar and set it in a kettle of boiling water boil it an hour skim it till clear. When cool add a wine glass of wine to each pint of shrub. A couple of table spoonsful of this mixed with a tumbler of water is a very wholesome and refreshing drink in fevers. 267. _Noyeau._ To three pints of good French brandy put four ounces of bitter almonds or peach meats bruised put in half an ounce of cinnamon the same quantity of mace and amber pounded fine add a tea spoonful of cloves; let it stand for a fortnight shaking it often then add a quart of water and a pound and a quarter of sugar let it stand a week shaking it each day then strain it off for use. 268. _Spring Fruit Sherbet._ Boil in a quart of water six or eight stalks of the rhubarb plant with the peel of a lemon pared very thin and the juice of it. When it has boiled eight or ten minutes take it sweeten it to the taste with any kind of syrup you like or honey flavor it with rosewater strain it let it stand five or six hours it will then be fit to drink. It is a fine thing to assuage thirst. 269. _Grape Wine._ To every gallon of ripe grapes put a gallon of soft water bruise the grapes and let them stand a week without stirring then draw off the liquor carefully; to each gallon put three pounds of lump sugar when fermented put it in a cask stop it up tight in six months it will be fit to bottle. 270. _Smallage Cordial._ Take the young sprouts of smallage wash and drain them till perfectly dry. Cut them into small pieces and put them in a bottle with stoned raisins a layer of each alternately; when the bottle is two thirds full fill it up with good French brandy. Cork it up let it stand four or five days then pour in as much more brandy as you can get in. It will be fit for use in the course of a few days. _Miscellaneous Receipts and observations useful to young housekeepers._ 1. _To make Essence of Lemon._ Take one drachm of the best oil of lemon and two ounces of strong rectified spirit. Mix the spirit by degrees with the oil. Another way to procure the essence of the peel is to rub the peel with lumps of sugar till the yellow part is all taken up. Scrape off the surface of the sugar and press it down tight in a preserving pot and cover it tight; a little of this sugar gives a fine flavor to pies or cake. This mode of procuring the essence of the peel is superior to any other as the fine flavor of the peel is extracted without any alloy. 2. _Essence of Ginger._ Put three ounces of fresh grated ginger an ounce of thin cut lemon peel into a quart of brandy or proof spirit bottle and cork it let it stand for ten days shaking it up each day it will then be fit for use. A few drops of this in a little water or on a lump of sugar answers all the purposes of ginger tea and is much more convenient and palatable. 3. _Rose Water._ Gather your roses on a dry day when full blown pick off the leaves and to a peck of them put a quart of water. Put them in a cold still and put it over a slow fire the slower they are distilled the better. When distilled put it in the bottles let it stand a couple of days then cork it tight. 4. _Spice Brandy._ Into a large wide mouthed bottle put French brandy and fresh rose leaves or lemon and orange peel. When this has stood a week it is nice spice for pies puddings and cake. Peach meats or almonds steeped in brandy are very good spice for custards. 5. _Barley Water._ Take a couple of ounces of pearl barley wash it in cold water and put it into half a pint of boiling water and let it boil four or five minutes then turn off the water and pour on two quarts of boiling water strain it and put to it two ounces of figs sliced two of stoned raisins half an ounce of liquorice cut into small bits and bruised boil it till reduced to a quart and strain it. This is a very wholesome drink in fevers. 6. _Water Gruel._ Mix a couple of table spoonsful of Indian meal with one of flour and a little water stir it into a pint of boiling water let it boil six or eight minutes then take it up put in a piece of butter of the size of a walnut pepper and salt to your taste and nutmeg or cinnamon if you like turn it on to toasted bread or crackers. To convert this into caudle add a little ale; wine or brandy and loaf sugar. 7. _Wine Whey._ Into a pint of milk while boiling stir a couple of wine glasses of wine let it boil for a moment then take it off when the curd has settled turn off the whey and sweeten it with loaf sugar. Where wine cannot be procured cider or half the quantity of vinegar is a good substitute. 8. _Stomachic Tincture._ Bruise an ounce and a half of Peruvian bark and one of bitter dried orange peel. Steep it in brandy or proof spirit for a fortnight shaking it each day. Let it remain for a couple of days without shaking it then decant the liquor. A tea spoonful of it in a wine glass of water is a fine tonic. 9. _Beef Tea._ Broil a pound of fresh beef ten minutes take it up pepper and salt it cut it into small pieces and turn a pint of boiling water on to it let it steep in a warm place for half an hour then strain it off and it is fit to drink. This is a quick way of making it but the best way is to cut beef into small bits and fill a junk bottle with it stop it up tight and immerse it in a kettle of cold water put it where it will boil four or five hours. This way is superior to the other as the juices of the meat are obtained unmixed with water; a table spoonful of this is as nourishing as a cup full of that which is made by broiling. 10. _Carrageen or Irish Moss._ American or Irish Carrageen is a very nutritious and light article of food for children and invalids and is a good thickener of milk and broths and for blanc mange is equal to the most expensive ingredients while the cost is very trifling. The following decoction for consumptive patients is recommended. Steep half an ounce of the moss in cold water for a few minutes then take it out boil it in a quart of milk until it attains the consistency of warm jelly strain it and sweeten it to the taste with white sugar or honey flavor it with whatever spice is most agreeable if milk is disagreeable water may be substituted. If a tea spoonful of the tincture of rhutany is mixed with a cup full of the decoction a tone will be given to the stomach at the same time that nourishment is conveyed to the system. 11. _Moss Blanc Mange._ Steep half an ounce of Irish moss in a pint and a half of milk; when it becomes a thick jelly sweeten it with loaf sugar and flavor it with white wine and cinnamon. To make orange lemon or savory jellies use a similar process substituting water for milk. Jellies made of it are more nourishing than those made of sago tapioca or arrow root. 12. _Elderberry Syrup._ Wash and strain the berries which should be perfectly ripe to a pint of the juice put a pint of molasses. Boil it twenty minutes stirring it constantly; then take it from the fire and when cold add to each quart four table spoonsful of brandy; bottle and cork it. This is an excellent remedy for a tight cough. 13. _New Bread and Cake from old and rusked bread._ Bread that is several days old may be renewed by putting it into a steamer and steaming it from half to three quarters of an hour according to its size; the steamer should not be more than half full otherwise the water will boil up on to the bread. When steamed wrap it up loosely in a dry cloth and let it remain till quite dry it will then appear like bread just baked. If pieces of bread are put in the oven and dried several hours after baking in it they will keep good a long time. They are good as fresh bread for dressing to meat and for puddings if soaked soft in cold water. Rich cake with wine or brandy in it will keep good several months in winter if kept in a cool place. The day it is to be eaten it should be put in a tin pan and set in a bake pan that has a tea cup of water in it when heated thoroughly through take it up. 14. _To Preserve Cheese from Insects and Mould._ Cover the cheese while whole with a paste made of wheat flour put a piece of paper or cloth over it and cover it with the paste keep it in a cool dry place. Cheese that has skippers in it if kept till cold weather will be free from them. Cheese that is growing mouldy can be prevented from becoming any more so by grating it fine and moistening it with wine and covering it up in a jar. It is preferred by many people to that which is not grated. 15. _To keep Vegetables and Herbs._ Succulent vegetables are preserved best in a cool shady place that is damp. Turnips potatoes and similar vegetables should be protected from the air and frost by being buried in earth; in very severe cold weather they should be covered with a linen cloth. It is said that the dust of charcoal will keep potatoes from sprouting if sprinkled over them.--Herbs should be gathered on a dry day either just before or while in blossom; they should be tied in bundles and hung in a shady airy place with the blossoms downwards. When perfectly dry put away the medicinal ones in bundles; pick off the leaves of those that are to be used in cooking pound and sift them and keep them in bottles corked tight. 16. _To preserve various kinds of Fruit over winter._ Apples can be kept till June by taking only those that are perfectly sound and wiping them dry and putting them in barrels with a layer of bran to each layer of apples. Cover the barrel with a linen cloth to protect them from the frost. Mortar put on the top of the apples is said to be an excellent thing to prevent their decaying as it draws the air from them which is the principal cause of decay; the mortar should not touch the apples. To preserve oranges and lemons for several months take those that are perfectly fresh and wrap each one by itself in soft paper and put them in glass jars or a very tight box strew white sand thickly round each one and over the top. The sand should be previously perfectly dried in the oven several hours after baking in it. Cover the fruit up tight and keep it in a cool dry place but not so cold as to freeze it. To preserve grapes gather them on a dry day when not quite dead ripe; pick those off from the stem that are not perfectly fair lay them in a glass jar and on each layer sprinkle a layer of dry bran taking care that none of the grapes touch each other have a layer of bran on the top of them and cork and seal them tight. A box will do to keep them in if covered with mortar. To restore them to their freshness when they are to be eaten cut the ends of the stalks and immerse them in wine let them remain in it for a few moments before they are to be eaten. Various kinds of green fruit such as grapes currants gooseberries and plums can be kept the year round by putting them in bottles and setting them in an oven four or five hours after baking in it; let them remain in it till they begin to shrink then cork and seal them tight they will be fit for pies whenever you wish to use them. Ripe blackberries and whortleberries dried perfectly in the sun and tied up in bags so as to exclude the air will keep good over the winter. Whenever you wish to use them for pies pour on boiling water enough to cover them and let them remain in it till they swell to nearly the original size then drain off the water and use them. 17. _To extract essences from various kinds of flowers._ Procure a quantity of the petals of any kind of flowers that have an agreeable fragrance. Card thin layers of cotton which dip into the finest Florence oil. Sprinkle a small quantity of salt on the flowers and put a layer of them in a glass jar or wide mouthed bottle with a layer of the cotton put in a layer of each alternately until the jar is full then cover the top up tight with a bladder. Place the vessel in a south window exposed to the heat of the sun. In the course of a fortnight a fragrant oil may be squeezed from the cotton little inferior if rose leaves are made use of to the imported otto of rose. 18. _Indelible Ink for marking linen._ Dissolve a drachm of lunar caustic in half an ounce of pure cold water. Dip whatever is to be marked in pearlash water dry it perfectly then rub it smooth with a silver spoon (ironing it sets the pearlash water ) write on it and place it in the sun and let it remain until the name appears plain and black. Red ink for marking linen is made by mixing and reducing to a fine powder half an ounce of vermilion a drachm of the salt of steel and linseed oil enough to render it of the consistency of black durable ink. 19. _Perfume Bags._ Rose leaves dried in the shade and mixed with powdered cloves cinnamon and mace put in small bags and pressed is a fine thing to keep in drawers of linen to perfume them. 20. _Lip Salve._ Dissolve a small lump of white sugar in a table spoonful of rose water clear water will do but is not as good. Mix it with a table spoonful of sweet oil a piece of spermaceti of the size of half a butternut. Simmer the whole together about eight or ten minutes. 21. _Bread Seals._ Take the crust of newly baked bread moisten it with gum water and milk add either vermilion in powder or rose pink to color it. When moistened work it with the fingers till it forms a consistent paste without cracking; it should then be laid in a cellar till the next day. Then break it into pieces of the size you wish to have the seals warm and roll them into balls press one at a time on the warm impression of a seal press. The bread should go into every part of the sealing wax impression; while the bread remains on it pinch the upper part so as to form a handle to hold the bread seal when in use. Take off the bread seal trim all the superfluous parts put the seals where they will dry slowly. The more the bread has been worked with the fingers the more glossy and smooth will be the seals and the better impression will they make. 22. _To loosen the Glass Stopples of Decanters or Smelling Bottles when wedged in tight._ Rub a drop or two of oil with a feather round the stopple close to the mouth of the bottle or decanter then place it between one and two feet from the fire. The heat will cause the oil to run down between the stopple and mouth. When warm strike it gently on both sides with any light wooden instrument you may happen to have; then try to loosen it with the hand. If it will not move repeat the process of rubbing oil on it and warming it. By persevering in this method you will at length succeed in loosening it however firmly it may be wedged in. 23. _Cement for broken China Glass and Earthenware._ To half a pint of skimmed milk add an equal quantity of vinegar to curdle it then separate the curd from the whey and mix the curd with the whites of five eggs beat the whole well together then add enough of the finest quicklime to form a consistent paste. (Plaster of Paris is still better if it can be procured than lime.) Rub this mixture on the broken edges of the china or glass match the pieces and bind them tightly together and let them remain bound several weeks. They will then be as firm as if never broken. Boiling crockery in milk is a good thing to cement them the pieces should be matched bound with pieces of cloth and boiled half an hour they should remain in the milk till cold and not be used for several weeks. Pulverized quicklime mixed with the white of an egg and rubbed in the cracks of china and glass will prevent their coming apart; the dishes should be bound firmly for several weeks after it is rubbed in. The Chinese method of mending broken china is to grind flint glass on a painter's stone as fine as possible and then beat it with the white of an egg to a froth and lay it on the edges of the broken pieces. It should remain bound several weeks. It is said that no art will then be able to break it in the same place. 24. _Japanese Cement or Rice Glue._ Mix rice flour intimately with cold water and then gently boil it. It answers all the purposes of wheat flour paste and is far superior in point of transparency and smoothness. This composition made with a comparatively small proportion of water that it may have the consistence of plastic clay will form models busts statues basso relievos and similar articles. The Japanese make fish of it which very much resemble those made of mother of pearl. Articles made of it when dry are susceptible of a very high polish. Poland starch is a very nice cement for pasting layers of paper together and any fancy articles when it is necessary. 25. _Cement for Alabaster._ Take of bees' wax one pound of rosin half a pound and three quarters of a pound of alabaster. Melt the wax and rosin then strew the alabaster previously reduced to a fine powder over in it lightly. Stir the whole well together then knead the mass in water in order to incorporate the powder thoroughly with the rosin and wax. Heat the cement and the alabaster which should be perfectly dry when applied join and keep it bound a week. This composition when properly managed forms an extremely strong cement. 26. _To Extract Fruit Stains._ Hold the spot over steam till quite moist then over burning sulphur; the sulphurous gas will cause the spot to disappear. 27. _To extract spots of paint from Silk Woolen and Cotton Goods._ Saturate the spots with spirits of turpentine let it remain several hours then take the cloth and rub it between the hands. It will crumble away and not injure either the texture or color of the cloth. 28. _To remove black stains on Scarlet Merinos or Broadcloths._ Wash the stain in water with a little tartaric acid in it rinse it directly and care should be taken not to get any of the acid water on the clean part of the dress. Weak pearlash water is good to remove stains produced by acids. 29. _To remove grease spots from Paper Silk or Woolen._ Grate on chalk enough to cover the grease spots. French chalk is the best but common chalk will answer very well. Cover the spots with brown paper and set a warm flat iron on the top and let it remain until cold. Care must be taken not to get the iron so hot as to change the color of the article. If the grease does not appear to be extracted on removing the flat iron grate on more chalk and heat the iron and put it on again. 30. _To extract stains from white Cotton goods and Colored Silks._ Spots of common or durable ink can be removed by saturating them with lemon juice and salt in summer and keeping them where the sun will shine on them several hours. Rub the juice and salt on them as fast as they get dry. Where lemons cannot be procured tartaric acid dissolved in salt and water is a good substitute. Iron mould can be removed in the same way; it is said that spirits of salts diluted with water will also extract iron mould. Sal ammoniac with lime will take out the stains of wine. Mildew and most other stains on white goods can be removed by rubbing on soft soap and salt and putting them in a hot summer's sun it should be rubbed on as fast as it dries. Where this fails lemon juice and salt will be generally effectual. Colored cotton goods that have ink spilt on them should be soaked in lukewarm milk or vinegar; sour milk is the best. Spirits of turpentine alcohol or sal ammoniac are all good to remove spots from colored silks. 31. _Rules for washing Calicoes._ Calicoes that incline to fade can have the colors set by washing them with beef's gall in clear water previous to washing them in soap suds; a small tea cup full to a pail of water is the right proportion. By squeezing out the gall and bottling and corking it up it can be kept several months. A little vinegar in the rinsing water of calicoes that have green pink or red colors will brighten them and prevent their mixing together. Yellow calicoes should be washed in soap suds and not rinsed. A little salt in the rinsing water of calicoes particularly blues and greens tends to prevent their fading by subsequent washing it will also prevent their catching fire readily. Thin starch water is good to wash fading calicoes in but it is rather hard to get them clean in it; no soap is necessary. Calicoes should not be washed in very hot suds and soft soap should never be used excepting for buff and yellows for which it is the best. The two latter colors should not be rinsed in clear water. 32. _Rules for washing Silks._ The water in which pared potatoes has been boiled is an excellent thing to wash black silk in it makes it look almost as black and glossy as new. Beef's gall in soap suds is also very good and soap suds without the gall does very well. Colored silks should have all the spots removed before the whole of the article is wet. Put soap into boiling water and beat it till it is all dissolved and forms a strong lather when at a hand heat put in the article that is to be washed and if strong it may be rubbed hard; when clean squeeze out the water without wringing and rinse it in warm water. Rinse it in another water and for bright yellows crimsons maroons and scarlets put in oil of vitriol sufficient to give the water an acid taste for oranges fawns browns or their shades use no acids for pinks rose colors and their shades use tartaric acid lemon juice or vinegar. For bright scarlet use a solution of tin. For blues purples and their shades add a small quantity of American pearlash to restore the colors. Verdigris dissolved in the rinsing water of olive greens is good to revive the colors a solution of copper is also good. Dip the silks up and down in the rinsing water and take them out without wringing and before they get perfectly dry fold them up tight and let them lay a few moments then mangle them if you have not a mangler iron them on the wrong side. A little isinglass dissolved in the rinsing water of blondes and gauzes is good to stiffen them. 33. _Rules for washing Woolens._ If you do not wish flannels to shrink wash them in two good suds made of hard soap then wring them out and pour boiling water on them and let them remain in it till cold. A little indigo in the rinsing water of white flannels makes them look nicer. If you wish to shrink your flannels wash them in suds made of soft soap and rinse them in cold water. Colored woolens that incline to fade should be washed with a little beef's gall in the suds. Cloth pantaloons look well washed with beef's gall in the suds; they should be pressed when quite damp on the wrong side. 34. _Rules for washing white Cotton Clothes._ Table cloths that have coffee or any other stains on them should have boiling water turned on them and remain in it till cold. The spots should be rubbed out before they are put in soap suds or they will be set so that they cannot be removed by subsequent washing. If a little starch is put in the rinsing water the stains will come out more easily the next time they are washed. Any white cloths that have fruit stains on them should be washed in the same manner. It is a good plan to soap and soak very dirty clothes over night; put them in when the water is lukewarm and let them heat gradually if they get to boiling it will not do any harm. Where rain water cannot be procured to wash with a little lye in the proportion of half a pailful to seven or eight pails of hard water will soften it so that much less soap will be necessary. It is said that white clothes washed in the following manner will not need any rubbing. To five gallons of soft water add half a gallon of lime water a pint and a half of soap and a couple of ounces of the salts of soda. Wet the clothes thoroughly and soak the parts that are most soiled; if very dirty they should be soaked over night. Heat the above mixture boiling hot then put in the clothes let them boil an hour then drain and rinse them thoroughly in warm water then in indigo water and they are fit for drying. The soda can be procured cheap by purchasing it in large quantities. It is a good plan to save the dirty suds after washing to water your garden if you have one it is also good to harden sandy cellars and yards. 35. _To clean Silk and Woolen Shawls._ Pare and grate raw potatoes put a pint of it in two quarts of clear water. Let it stand for five hours then strain the water and rub through as much of the potatoe as possible; let it remain until perfectly clear then turn off the water carefully. Put a clean white cloth on a table lay the shawl on it and pin it down tight. Dip a clean sponge into the potatoe water and rub the shawl with it till clean then rinse the shawl in clear water. When nearly dry mangle it; if you have not a mangler wrap it up in a clean white cloth and press it under a heavy weight till perfectly dry. All the grease spots and stains should be taken out of the shawls before they are washed with the potatoe water. 36. _To clean Silk Stockings._ Wash the stockings in mildly warm hard soap suds rinse them in soap suds and if you wish to have them of a flesh color put in a little rose pink or cochineal powder; if you prefer a bluish cast put in a little indigo. Hang them up to dry without wringing when nearly dry iron them on the right side till perfectly so. If you wish silks of any kind to have a gloss on them never rinse them without soap in the water. 37. _To clean Carpets._ Carpets should be taken up as often as once a year even if not much used as there is danger of their getting moth eaten. If used much they should be taken up two or three times a year. If there is any appearance of moths when carpets are taken up sprinkle a little black pepper or tobacco on the floor before the carpets are put down. Shake the dust out of the carpets and if they are so much soiled as to require cleaning rub a little dry magnesia or grated raw potatoes on them; the potatoes should be rubbed on with a new broom. Let it remain until perfectly dry before walking on it. If there are any grease or oil spots on the carpet they should be extracted before the potatoe is rubbed on. They can be extracted by grating on potter's clay covering it with brown paper and a moderately warm flat iron or warming pan. It will be necessary to do it several times to get out the whole of the grease. 38. _To clean Feather Beds and Mattresses._ When feather beds become soiled or heavy rub them over with a brush dipped into hot suds. When clean lay them on a shed or railing where the rain will fall on them till they get thoroughly soaked let them dry in a hot sun for a week shaking and turning them over each day. This way of washing the beds makes the feathers fresh and light and is much easier than the old fashioned way of emptying the beds and washing the ticking and feathers separately while it answers quite as well. Hair mattresses that have become hard and dirty can be made nearly as good as new ones by ripping them and washing the ticking picking the hair free from bunches and keeping it in an airy place several days. When the ticking gets dry fill it lightly and tack it together. 39. _To clean Light Kid Gloves._ Magnesia moist bread and India Rubber are all of them good to clean light kid gloves if rubbed on thoroughly. 40. _To remove Ink or Grease spots from Floors._ Ink spots can be removed by scouring them with sand wet with water that has a few drops of oil of vitriol in it. Great care is necessary in using it as it eats holes if suffered to remain long without having something put on to counteract its effects. When rubbed on floors it should be rinsed off immediately with weak pearlash water. Oil and grease spots can be removed by grating on potter's clay thick and wetting it it should remain on till it has absorbed all the grease; if brown paper and a warm iron is put on it will come out much quicker. Pearlash water and sand is also good to extract grease and oil they should be rubbed hard then rinsed directly. 41. _To clean Mahogany and Marble Furniture._ They should be washed in water without any soap. A little oil rubbed on them occasionally gives them a fine polish. White spots on varnished furniture can be removed by rubbing them with a warm flannel cloth dipped in spirits of turpentine. It is said that ink spots can be extracted by rubbing them with blotting paper rolled up tight. 42. _To clean Stone Hearths and Stoves._ If you wish to preserve the original color of free stone hearths wash them in clear water then rub them with a stone of the same kind pounded fine let it remain until dry then rub it off. If the hearths are stained rub them hard with a free stone. Hot soft soap or soap suds does very well to wash hearths in provided you have no objections to their looking dark. For brick hearths use redding mixed with thin starch and milk. Varnished stoves should have several coats of varnish put on in summer so as to get quite hard before being used. They should be washed in warm water without any soap a little oil rubbed on once or twice a week improves the looks of them. Black lead is good to black stoves that have never been varnished but it will not do where they have been. It should be rubbed on dry once or twice a day. 43. _To clean Brass._ Rotten stone and spirit is better than any thing else to clean brasses with. Acids make them look nice at first but they will not remain clean long they are also apt to spot without a great deal of care is used. When brass andirons are not in use they should be thoroughly cleaned with rotten stone and rubbed over with oil and wrapped up tight. 44. _To cleanse Vials and Pie Plates._ Bottles and vials that have had medicine in them can be cleaned by putting a tea spoonful or two of ashes in them and immersing them in cold water the water should then be heated gradually until it boils. When they have boiled about half an hour take them from the fire and let them cool gradually in the water. Pie plates that have been baked on many times are apt to impart an unpleasant taste to pies. It may be remedied by boiling them in ashes and water. 45. _Cautions relative to Brass and Copper._ Cleanliness has been aptly styled the cardinal virtue of cooks; food is not only more palatable cooked in a cleanly manner but it is also more healthy. Many lives have been lost in consequence of carelessness in using copper brass and glazed earthen utensils. No oily or acid substance should be allowed to cool or stand in them. Brass and copper utensils should be thoroughly cleaned with salt and hot vinegar before being used. 46. _To keep Pickles and Sweet Meats._ Pickles should be kept in kegs or unglazed earthen jars. Sweetmeats keep best in glass jars unglazed earthen jars do very well. If the jar is covered with a paper wet in spirits the sweet meats are less liable to ferment. Both pickles and sweet meats should be looked to occasionally to see that they are not fermenting if so the vinegar or syrup should be turned from them and scalded. If pickles grow soft it is owing to the vinegar's not being strong enough; to make it stronger scald it and put in a paper wet with molasses and a little alum. 47. _Starch._ To make good flour starch mix the flour with a little water till free from lumps thin it gradually with more water then stir it slowly into boiling water. Let it boil five or six minutes stirring it frequently a tallow candle stirred round in it several times makes it smoother. Strain it through a thick bag. Starch made in this manner will be free from lumps and answers for cotton and linen as well as Poland starch. Many people like it for muslins. Poland starch is made in the same manner as flour starch. When rice is boiled in a pot without a bag the water that it is boiled in is as good as Poland starch for clearing muslins if boiled by itself a few moments and strained. Muslins to look very clear should be starched and clapped while the starch is hot. 48. _To temper New Ovens and Iron Ware._ New ovens before being used to retain their heat well should be heated half a day. The lid should be put up as soon as the wood is taken out. It should not be used to bake in the first time it is heated. Iron utensils are less liable to crack if heated gradually before they are used. New flat irons should be heated half a day to retain their heat well. 49. _To temper Earthen Ware._ Earthen ware that is used to cook in is less liable to crack from the heat by being put before they are used into cold water and heated gradually till the water boils then taken from the fire and left in the water until cold. 50. _Preservatives against the Ravages of Moths._ To prevent woolen and fur articles of dress from getting moth eaten when you have done wearing them put them in a chest with cedar chips camphor gum or tobacco leaves. 51. _To drive away various kinds of Household Vermin._ A little quicksilver and white of an egg beat together and put in the crevices of bedsteads with a feather is the most effectual bed bug poison. A solution of vitriol is also a good thing rubbed on walls that are infested by them. Hellebore with molasses rubbed on it is an excellent thing to kill cockroaches and put round the places that they are in the habit of frequenting. Arsenic spread on bread and butter and placed round in rat holes will put a stop to their ravages very speedily. Great care is necessary in using all these poisons where there are children as they are equally as fatal to human beings as vermin. The flower of sulphur sprinkled round places that ants frequent will drive them away. Half a tea spoonful of black pepper one of sugar and a table spoonful of cream mixed and kept on a plate in a room where flies are troublesome will soon cause them to disappear. Weak brine will kill worms in gravel walks. They should be kept moist with it a week in the spring and three or four days in the fall. 52. _To keep Meat in hot Weather._ Cover it with bran and keep it where there is a free circulation of air away from the flies. A wire safe is an excellent thing to preserve meat from spoiling. 53. _To Prevent polished Cutlery from rusting._ Knives snuffers and other steel articles are apt to rust when not cleaned frequently. To prevent it wrap them tight in coarse brown paper when not in use. Knives and forks should be perfectly free from spots and well polished when not in use. They should also be wrapped up each one by itself so as to exclude the air. 54. _To melt Fat for Shortening._ The fat of all kinds of meat excepting mutton and hams makes good shortening. Roast meat drippings and the liquor that meat is boiled in should stand until cold to have the fat harden so that it can be taken off easily. Cut your scraps of fat into small pieces and melt them slowly without burning together with the fat from your drippings. When melted strain it and let it remain until nearly cold then pour in a little cold water. When the fat forms into a hard cake take it up and scrape off the sediment that adheres to the under side melt it again and when lukewarm sprinkle in a little salt. The dregs of fat are good for soap grease. This shortening answers all the various purposes of lard very well excepting in the warmest weather. In using it for pies it is necessary to use considerable butter with it. The fat of meat should not be suffered to lie more than a week in winter without melting and in summer not more than two or three days. Mutton fat and the fat of beef if melted into hard cakes will fetch a good price at the tallow chandler's. It is much more economical for housekeepers to put down their own pork than to buy it already salted. The leaves and thin pieces that are not good for salting should be cut into small bits and melted then strained through a cullender with a cloth laid in it as soon as it begins to thicken sprinkle in a tea cup of salt to twenty or thirty weight of the lard; stir it in well then set it away in a cool place. Some people have an idea that pork scraps must be fried till very brown in order to be preserved good the year round but it is not necessary if salt is put in. 55. _To preserve Eggs fresh a Year._ Mix a handful of unslacked lime with the same quantity of salt two or three gallons of water. If eggs that are perfectly fresh are put in this mixture they will keep good a year in it provided none are cracked. 56. _To preserve Cream for long Voyages._ Take cream that is fresh and rich and mix it with half its weight of powdered white sugar stir the whole well together and preserve it in bottles corked very tight. In this state it is ready to mix with tea and coffee. 57. _Substitute for Milk and Cream in Tea or Coffee._ Beat the white of a fresh egg in a bowl and turn on to it gradually boiling tea or coffee. It is difficult to distinguish the taste from rich cream. 58. _To Cure Butter._ Take two parts of the best common salt one part of sugar and one of saltpetre blend the whole well together. Mix one ounce of this composition well with every sixteen ounces of the butter. Close it up tight in kegs cover it with an oiled paper and let it remain untouched for a month. Butter cured in this manner is very nice and will keep good eight or nine months if not exposed to the air. 59. _To make salt Butter Fresh._ Put four pounds of salt butter into a churn with four quarts of new milk and a small portion of annatto. Churn them together take out the butter in the course of an hour and treat it like fresh butter working in the usual quantity of salt; a little white sugar improves it. This is said to be equal to fresh butter in every respect. The salt may be got out of a small quantity at a time by working it over in fresh water changing the water several times. 60. _To take Rankness from a small quantity of Butter._ Take a quantity that is to be made use of put it into a bowl filled with boiling water with a little saleratus in it let it remain until cold then take it off carefully and work it over with a little salt. By this method it is separated from the grosser particles. 61. _Windsor Soap._ To make this celebrated soap for shaving and washing the hands nothing more is necessary than to slice the best white soap as thin as possible and melt it over a slow fire. When melted take it up when lukewarm scent it with the oil of caraway or any other oil that is more agreeable then turn it into moulds and let it remain in a dry situation several days. It will then be fit for use. 62. _To make Bayberry or Myrtle Soap._ To a pound of bayberry tallow put a pint of potash lye strong enough to bear up an egg. Boil them together till it becomes soap. Then put in half a tea cup of cold water let it boil several minutes longer. Take it off and when partly cooled put in a few drops of the essence of wintergreen pour it into moulds and let it remain several days. This soap is good for shaving and is an excellent thing for chapped hands and eruptions on the face. 63. _Cold Soap._ To twenty pounds of white potash put ten of grease previously melted and strained. Mix it well together with a pailful of cold water let it remain several days then stir in several more pailsful of cold water. Continue to pour in cold water at intervals of two or three days stirring it up well each time. As soon as the water begins to thin it it is time to leave off adding it. This method of making soap is much easier than any other while it is equally cheap and good. If you have not land to enrich with your ashes they can be disposed of to advantage at the soap boiler's. THE END. Transcriber's Note The following typographical errors were corrected: Page Error vii 67 changed to 97 ix Apple Dumplings changed to Apple Dumplings x woolen Shawls changed to woolen Shawls 3 petre changed to petre 4 and alspice changed to and allspice 4 when severl slices changed to when several slices 4 mix a tea spoonfull changed to mix a tea spoonful 11 pigs ear's changed to pig's ears 15 fow s changed to fowls 15 Cold Veal changed to Cold Veal. 21 rice and a a lb. changed to rice and a lb. 25 twenty minutes changed to twenty minutes. 61 whites of threee ggs changed to whites of three eggs 63 to your tase. changed to to your taste. 71 sugar half a tea spoonsful changed to sugar half a tea spoonful 71 nutmeg and a table spoonsful changed to nutmeg and a table spoonful 74 by the spoonsful changed to by the spoonful 89 be fit to to changed to be fit to 108 without any soap changed to without any soap. The following words were inconsistently spelled. bake pan / bakepan pen-knife / penknife pie crust / piecrust saleratus / sal eratus whortle berries / whortleberries 
42803	----	available by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com) Note: Images of the original pages are available through the Google Books Library Project. See http://www.google.com/books?id=zNVBAQAAIAAJ [Illustration: Book Cover] LIVING ON A LITTLE by CAROLINE FRENCH BENTON Author of "A Little Cook Book for a Little Girl," "Margaret's Saturday Mornings," etc [Illustration] Boston * Dana Estes & Company * Publishers Copyright, 1908 By Dana Estes & Company To all those housekeepers, young and old, who are engaged in the delightful task of making one dollar do the work of two Thanks are due the editor of _Good Housekeeping_ for permission to reprint the greater part of this book from that magazine. Contents CHAPTER PAGE I. At the Very Beginning--Dividing the Income 11 II. Saving for Staples--The Kitchen--Buying--Linen 28 III. Arranging the Meals--Cooking-Dresses--The Table--The Dinner 48 IV. Soups and Meats 68 V. Vegetables, Salads, Desserts 90 VI. Breakfast, Luncheon, Supper--Odds and Ends 110 VII. The Emergency Closet--Winter Preserves--Cake 129 VIII. The Game of Menus 148 IX. Two Dinner Parties 165 X. Reducing Expenses 183 XI. Luncheons for a Little 201 XII. In the Country 221 XIII. Midsummer Housekeeping--The End of the Holiday 245 CHAPTER I At the Very Beginning--Dividing the Income Mrs. Thorne laid down the letter she was reading and looked across the table to her husband, who, as he was industriously engaged in buttering a muffin, paid scant attention to her for the moment. Presently, however, as he became aware of something portentous in the air, he looked up and inquired: "My dear, you alarm me. What's the matter? Has the bank suspended and are you considering how best to break the news to me, or has Dolly eloped with the ice-man?" His wife did not relax her important expression as she replied, "Dolly's engaged." "Engaged!" Mr. Thorne assumed an overwhelming surprise. "You don't say so! Now who in the world can she possibly be engaged to?" Mrs. Thorne regarded him with scorn. "Just as though you did not know perfectly well! Who could she possibly be engaged to but Fred Mason? I told you a month ago she was certain to be." "So you did," was the soothing reply, "but I strive to please, and I thought from your manner that you hoped to astonish me with the news. So she's really and truly engaged. Well, I'm glad of it. Fred's a good fellow in spite of the fact that he has arranged to be a brother-in-law to me when he knows that I hate brothers-in-law; and Dolly's a great girl." "Dolly's a dear, and I only hope he's half good enough for her. But that is only part of the news in the letter." Her husband took another muffin and looked interested. "She wants to come and spend a year with us; if we can take her, father and mother will go abroad. Her idea is to learn how to keep house. Listen to what she says: "'Dearest Mary:-- "'I don't suppose you will be exactly amazed when I tell you that Fred and I are engaged, for when I wrote you last I realized that you must know what was in the air. And I don't suppose I need say that we are the two happiest people in the world and that Fred is the dearest--'" "Skip all that," pleaded Mr. Thorne. "Well, I will; but she goes on to say that the firm Fred is with has offered him a better salary than he has now, provided he will go to South America for a year and really learn the business. I'll begin there: "'That means that we can get married as soon as he comes back, for then he will have as much as eighteen hundred a year, certainly. But even so, with rents so high and food going up daily as the papers say it is, I am sure we shall find it not too easy to make both ends meet, especially as I strongly suspect that years in an expensive apartment hotel do not exactly fit one for living on a little. "'All this brings me to the point of my letter, which is: won't you please let me come and live with you for a year and learn how to manage? That would be a cool proposition, I am aware, but for certain mitigating circumstances which I hasten to mention. "'You said in your last letter that Delia was leaving you to be married; I suppose by now she is only a memory. You also said that you dreaded getting a new somebody in her place because you were confident that Fate had in store for you a high-priced, high-spirited and extravagant person who would smash your things and possibly order you out of the kitchen, not to mention putting whole loaves of bread in the garbage pail daily. Now if that remorseless being has not yet arrived, won't you consider me in the light of an applicant for a place as general housework maid in her stead? I'll do anything and everything. I'll take the place of a butler, a cook, a house-maid, a waitress, anything you can mention except a laundress, and you can order me around all you like and I'll never, never answer back. My aprons shall be clean, my hair tidy and my kitchen immaculate. I won't ask for a latch-key, and for only occasional afternoons out in cases of great emergency, such as matinees or afternoon teas and such things. And I'll solemnly promise not to have a single follower. "'It won't cost any more for you to board me than it would a second edition of Delia, and what you save on wages you can turn in toward the dishes I break and the ingredients I waste in my apprenticeship. Please, please let me come! And send a telegram, for this suspense is wearing me to a thread. "'Fred sends you his love and says he will be perfectly easy in his mind about me if I am with you while he is away. And he thinks it such a good idea for me to learn to cook! "'Affectionately yours, "'Dolly. "'P. S. Isn't it too perfectly dreadful that he has to go away at all! I'm just in despair.'" Mrs. Thorne laid down the letter and looked eagerly at her husband. He was smiling broadly. "Let her come," he said as he rose from his chair. "Poor, heart-broken young thing, it would be cruel to refuse her. Let her divert herself cooking up messes; if we can't eat them we can always invite company, who can't refuse. I'll send her a telegram as I go down town, and congratulate and condole with her, and incidentally include the invitation she wants." So for a week preparations for the coming of the new maid absorbed her sister's attention. Delia had been a treasure, and there was little cleaning up to follow her departure, but on general principles the pantry shelves were scrubbed and some new saucepans purchased to replace the burned ones bestowed on the ash-man; the dish-towels were done up with extra attention to their folds, and the kitchen window had a fresh curtain. Dolly arrived presently; rather a pensive Dolly too, for Fred had just sailed and life for the next year seemed scarcely worth living. But after she had unpacked and settled herself in her pretty room her spirits revived, and she was able to look forward to her stay at her sister's with some degree of resignation, if not enjoyment. When the work was all out of the way the very next morning she produced a blank book and pencil. "Now sit down close by me," she began importantly, "and let us begin this very minute with my lessons. You see, I am going to do this thing in a really systematic fashion. You had to learn as you went along, I remember, and I dare say you made a lot of mistakes and wasted a lot of time; my plan is to take everything up in order and to write down all you teach me, and then I shall have it ready to use at a moment's notice. "I have got a nice ruled book, and Fred and I talked over some things, and he put down some columns for me to fill out. See--first comes Income; then Food; then Rent; then Fuel, and Clothes, and so on. Mary, you have no idea what a practical mind he has! So you see we can take up these things and get some sort of view as to what it will cost us to live; then we shall know where we are. Later on, in the book, I will write down other things, such as suggestions on How to Save Money, and things like that, you see." Her sister regarded her admiringly. "My dear, I didn't give you credit for so much forethought. How I wish I had had anybody to start me right! When I think of my struggles and of what a time it took me to learn how to manage on a small income I wonder I have survived. I did make such blunders, and then I cried,--I cried bucketfuls of tears, and most of them at least could have been saved for other and important occasions if only I had been taught more practically. I do think it is too difficult for a girl who has always lived on a liberal income, and never had to think twice about expenses, to suddenly have to get along on a tiny amount of money all by herself. I certainly will promise to save you some of my mistakes." "I really scarcely know where to begin," said Dolly, as she brushed back her hair, "but perhaps we had better give my book a title; I shall call it 'Living on a Little.'" "Then the first question to settle is this: 'What is a little?' and that has about a hundred possible answers. You can easily see that to a couple brought up 'in marble halls, with servants and serfs to command,' five thousand a year might seem a pittance, while other people would cheerfully begin housekeeping on five hundred dollars and think it plenty; it all depends on the point of view, of course. "But this is the way I reason about an income: to live with any real comfort on whatever is to you a little, you must be a good manager; when you have arrived at that desirable point, the actual amount of your income does not matter so much as you would think, because, you see, you know how to get out of it all that there is there, and it is enough for your needs. "Do you remember that friend of mother's, Mrs. Grant, who had that perfect palace of a house and an income of fifty thousand dollars a year? Well, I have never forgotten that one day I heard her say that for the first six years of her married life she and her husband lived on a salary of six hundred dollars, 'and,' she said in the most complacent way, 'I could do it again, too, if I had to!' You see, she was a good manager and she realized it. She had learned just how much to buy at a time, and where to buy it, and what to pay for it, and how to make a small amount of money do as much as twice that. "Now I have been married only six years, but I have learned a lot in that time, because we have had to move from one place to another and our income has varied so much; then you know all one winter Dick was ill and we had nothing to live on but what we had saved, and so we had to be very, very careful. I really feel that I have mastered the problem of living on a little." "Then I'll begin my book with the result of your experience in a nutshell, or in an epigram, or something, please, if you can put it that way." "I don't believe I can do that; but here is the main part of it: Keep down your table expenses. You see, even if you wear your old clothes and pay a lower rent than you have been accustomed to pay, and walk instead of riding, you still must eat, and you must have nourishing, appetizing food, or you will have doctor's bills which will terrify and impoverish you. Unless you can set a good table for a small sum of money, you are lost on a narrow income, and if you know how to accomplish that economic feat, you are safe. So that is my first great rule for living on a little: Learn how to have a generous table for a small sum of money. "You will find you have to study the food question with a will, too, if you mean to master it in a year so you can work out its problems easily forward and backward, as you must. You see you begin by learning to manage with a fixed allowance; then how to buy in places that are not necessarily the best ones, but the best for you; how to cut down expenses when you have been extravagant or have to entertain, and how to lay in supplies when you have a surplus of money on hand; what to get in quantities and what to get in small amounts; what to do with the left-overs, and how to eke out one thing with another so as to have enough when you are short. It is as difficult to be that kind of a housekeeper as to be a great whist player or a concert artist! It is easy enough to make a little money go a long way if you are a clever manager, and fatally easy, too, to drop a little here and there till you are actually bankrupt, if you don't understand just how to live. So put your mind on the food question, my dear." "Then tell me what to put down under Food; that seems to be the next item after Income; that I put down as $1,800, though of course that is only a sort of average, because we are not positively certain just what we shall really have, but it will be about that. Now what will it cost us a year for our table?" "We will put down just what Dick and I spend--about a dollar a day; you can feed a maid or a sister on that, too, so I am sure it is enough." "It certainly does not seem so," Dolly murmured, but she obediently set down "Food, $365." "Then here is my second question: 'Which is the cheaper place to live in, the city or the country, when you have only a small sum to put into rent, and such things?'" Mrs. Thorne considered. "The fact is I cannot say with any certainty, though we have tried both places. We found the balance was pretty even. Suppose you live in the country; there rent would be less than here. We pay forty dollars a month for this small apartment, and we paid twenty-five for a whole house there; but to offset that, Dick's commutation ticket used up the difference. Of course if your home and your husband's business were both in the one country place, that would be saved and you would be ahead; but I am supposing the business to be in the city. "Then in the country we had to burn a great deal of coal in the furnace and the kitchen range, and that was a decided item, while here we do not have to consider that at all. In the country we had to hire our walks cleaned, and here we do not. There I simply had to have a maid, because I could not do all the work of a whole house, and here I can do without perfectly well if I like. Really, you see things were about the same in those ways, so we will waive the question for the present and get at it later by degrees according to your own needs." "Then what shall I put down under Rent? Shall I say $40 a month and put down nothing for fuel? That would be right in both city and country you see, the rent here more and the fuel less, and there just the reverse." "Yes, I think that will be fair." So that item went down: Rent and Fuel, $480. "Wages come next. Do we settle the servant question here and now, offhand? I've always understood that was a life-work, and you might even go to another world no wiser on the subject than when you came into this one." "It is a great subject, certainly; anybody who has had an average experience can testify to that. I scarcely know where to begin to tell you what to do. But let us see. Suppose you decide to keep a servant, at least at first. For general housework in the city you will have to pay $5.00 a week, and you will be lucky if you get any one who will do your washing for that; probably you will have to pay $5.00 and put the laundry work out; at least that is what your maid will ask." "Well, she won't get it, then," said Dolly decidedly. "She may as well understand first as last that two people who have not much money to spend cannot pay five dollars a week and still put out the washing. It's perfectly absurd to expect it." She shook her head indignantly at the imaginary maid who was supposed to have made the preposterous suggestion. "Let us give up having her at all," smiled her sister. "Perhaps, instead of taking a competent person, you can get a newly landed Finn or German who will consent to wash and iron, cook and clean, all for $4.00 a week; you really cannot do much better than that. Then you must teach her everything, of course, and do all the dainty cooking yourself, beside. You must also allow a good deal for her food; she will be accustomed to eat a great deal and of a substantial sort." "I don't like the idea of an untrained maid, at all," said Dolly rebelliously. "It is nice to have somebody, though, especially at first, because no bride likes to cook in her new clothes, above all at dinner time. Still, many a clever girl does do all her work and still manages to be always rested and fresh and prettily dressed; it's a miracle how she does it, but you must learn the secret if you have to dispense with the maid, my dear, or risk seeing romance vanish!" "Well, you know how! I'm convinced Dick thinks you a perfect Queen of Beauty and a Madame Recamier of cleverness and a female chef and everything else that is desirable in a wife, all rolled up in one prize package." "Well, if he does,--and let us hope he may!--remember how long I've been in the business of learning how to manage. You must try and get to the point without wasting the time I have put on my lessons. But to go back to that perennially interesting question, Concerning Servants; put down $200 under Service. It really ought to be a little more than that at $4.00 a week, but as your Finn will certainly never stay a whole year at a time, you will probably do your own work for some weeks at least, and so save her wages." "I have about decided not to have either a Finn or a German or anybody else. I think I'll do my own work and have a woman in to wash and iron and clean by the day; that will save something, won't it?" "Yes; but in town, at least, you will have to pay $1.50 a day, besides car-fare and meals; that is pretty expensive for you." "Well, why can't I have a woman just to clean, say a day, or even half a day at a time, and put out my washing?" "Laundry work is dreadfully expensive. You must pay, at the very lowest, fifty cents a dozen, and more for all the fine things, such as white petticoats and shirt-waists. I don't believe you can afford it. Why not try this way? Send out all your washing except the finest things and have it returned rough-dry; that is a rather cheap way of doing, if you send a whole wash; then have a woman one day to iron and give you perhaps an hour or more of cleaning, too. There is an economical and a practical plan, to my thinking, but very likely you may not find it the best one for you to follow. For that particular one, you must experiment and study conditions for yourself in the place you live in; what would do for me here might not suit you at all elsewhere. But anyway, we will put down $200 for service, for I doubt if it will be less than that amount, no matter how you manage." "And the next item I suppose should be Clothes." "Yes, it ought to be, but here is a difficulty. The first year you are married the sum will fall way below the average, for your two trousseaux will supply your needs. Suppose this time you put down $150, just to have something to go by; it will be at least double that, possibly, after awhile. Now if you will add up what you have there you can tell what you will have for the most important item of all, Incidentals, which we have left for the last." Dolly added in silence for a moment, and then read: "Income $1,800 Food $365 Rent and Fuel 480 Service 200 Clothes 150 ------ Total $1,195 "Or, say $1,200; that, subtracted from what I hope will be our income, $1,800, leaves $600 for Incidentals." "And that is very much like a skeleton in the closet. Incidentals, my dear Dolly, are the very worst foe of all young housekeepers. I wish I could impress upon you from the very first to watch that column. It must cover everything we have not put down, and the name of them is Legion. Doctor's bills, dentist's bills, church, books, magazines, car-fares, entertaining, pocket money of every sort, gas bills,--unless you can get those out of your table allowance, as possibly you can, and perhaps you can not,--and vacations, and amusements, and two things that ought to come first of all, and you must never, never forget or treat lightly--life insurance and the savings bank account." "Really, Mary, you frighten me!" "You may well think of these things seriously at least, because they need that sort of consideration. Six hundred dollars is very little for all those items, and yet it must cover them. Life insurance is a necessity; don't ever think you can dispense with that, but keep your premiums paid up if you have to live on bread and water to do it. And the savings bank; into that must--must, Dolly--go a small sum every single month. Nothing makes one feel so at peace with all the world as to know that there is a small but growing sum laid by for the rainy day which is absolutely sure to come just when you can least endure it. Think what it means to have something to fall back on in a great emergency! It is so fatally easy to forget about that and all these other things which devour that sum under Incidentals, and then, behold, the end of July finds one with the next December's money all spent! Candy and flowers and theatre tickets and other nice but unnecessary things will behave in just exactly that way; they will simply devour Incidentals." "Well, I'll try and keep a stern and watchful eye on the column," said Dolly, "and when Fred's salary is raised we will go on living at exactly the same rate as before and spend all the new margin on luxuries; I do love luxuries!" "They certainly are pleasant, but if you want a mind at ease, keep your attention firmly fixed on your account in the savings bank. That in the long run gives greater satisfaction than candy or violets, though I don't dispute that they have their place, too. But cheer up! Housekeeping always gets simpler the farther you get along, and the day will come when you won't know that you are economizing, it will be so easy and natural and pleasant." Dolly sighed heavily as she added Incidentals on to her other items and made her column under Income come out neatly, $1,800 received, and $1,800 spent. "I hope you will hurry up and teach me everything as fast as possible," she said. "It does seem rather impossible to me, after all, and I started off this morning so sure that I could do it offhand! I feel exactly as though I had a lesson to learn made up of a mixture of Sanscrit and German philosophy and trigonometry, and all the rest of the most dreadful things you can think of." CHAPTER II Saving for Staples--The Kitchen--Buying--Linen The very next day the two lady-maids went seriously to work on their problem of living on a little. They arranged for a woman to come one day in the week and wash, do a little cleaning for perhaps an hour while the wash was drying, and then iron the heavy things; the next morning the sisters were to finish up the light and dainty things left over, the napkins, pretty waists, handkerchiefs, and odds and ends; these would take only an hour or two after the regular routine of bed-making, dusting, and brushing up the hardwood floors was out of the way, and this in their small, convenient apartment was no great task. After everything was in order, they sat down with books and pencils to lay out a sort of campaign for the winter. "I said we would allow ourselves about seven dollars a week for food," Mrs. Thorne began. "Please notice that I said about. It is really impossible to be absolutely exact with you, because you are not sure just where you are going to live. If you are in the country proper, or possibly even in a suburb, you will find food somewhat less than in the city; milk, eggs, and vegetables are almost always cheaper there than they are here. Then, too, prices differ in different places, sometimes without any apparent reason. So we won't be absolutely bound down to seven dollars a week; sometimes we will spend only six, and once in awhile we may go a little over our allowance, though I plan never to do that. "Now out of this dollar a day we must buy meat, vegetables, groceries, milk, butter, and eggs, so you see we shall have to be very careful indeed and very saving, especially as we must have a little margin every week to put in some staple. One week we will lay in half a barrel of potatoes, if we find some that are cheap just then; another, we will buy olive oil, or fruit for preserving, or flour, or something for our emergency closet; all these things must be taken into account, you see, if we are not going to get into deep water financially. Just fancy! We might spend our dollar a day right along, and some morning wake up to find ourselves flourless, sugarless, coffeeless, and no money in our purse but the one dollar for the one day! No, the only safe way is to put in staples as we go along, and so never get out of everything at once. "You see that tin bank on the kitchen mantel: every day when I come back from market I put in that all the pennies and nickels I have left; then some days, when I have spent only about fifty cents down-town, because we had so much in the house in the way of left-overs that I did not need to get much of anything, I put in all of the dollar that I have left,--perhaps forty cents or so. You can see that I always have enough for our needs right there without drawing on our future. "And then besides staples there is entertaining to save for. Half the fun of keeping house is having one's friends in to a meal now and then. I just love to give dinner-parties." "But I thought we allowed for that," said Dolly, turning over the leaves of her book. "You certainly said Entertaining came under Incidentals; see, here it is in black and white." "So I did, but by that I meant really serious entertaining, which comes only once in awhile, such as a big family dinner at Christmas, with a fourteen-pound turkey or some similar extravagance. If we undertook any such affair as that I should unhesitatingly take out its cost from Incidentals, because otherwise we should be on short rations ourselves for far too long a time to be comfortable, in order to make things come out even; but now I am speaking of little dinners and luncheons when we have four people at a time. Those I hope to get out of our regular allowance; that is what I want a good margin for. And we can do it all, too; even with meat and vegetables at the frightful price they have reached to-day, it's quite possible, if you know how to manage. Other people do it, and we can, too. 'What man has done,' you know." Dolly groaned. "I'm perfectly sure I had better cable to Fred to-day that I have decided we can never be married at all," she declared, dismally. "The longer I think about the matter the more certain I am that seven dollars a week is nothing, absolutely nothing. Why, the last winter we kept house mother went off for a week, and I did the ordering; and I remember the meat bill alone for father, Cousin Marion, myself, and three maids was twenty-eight dollars. Father did not say anything when it came in, and did not seem surprised, and I would not have thought that there was anything strange about it except for a remark mother made when she came back and looked over the accounts. 'Well,' she said, 'I do hope you won't marry a poor man; if you do, I'm sorry for him in advance!' From which I argued that poor people did not spend twenty-eight dollars a week on meat,--not as a general thing!" "I suppose you had sweetbreads for luncheon once or twice?" asked Mary, smiling. Dolly nodded. "Certainly. We had sweetbreads several times, and quail, and broiled chickens, too; and for breakfast we had little French chops, and such things; and for dinner we had capons and guinea-hens and legs of spring lamb. All the delicacies of the season were ours for the telephoning. So you see I don't know the first thing about living on a little." "I should say not," said her sister, emphatically. "If ever there was an ignoramus, you are one, my dear. But then, I did not know any more than you when I was married, and behold me now! And I'll make you into an expert, too, before this year of servitude is over, or I'm no prophet. And as we had better lose no time over it, we will begin the lessons this very minute. Come out in the kitchen and take a careful view of its contents. I'm proud of my kitchen!" Dolly did not wonder, when she looked around the room and noticed what her sister pointed out. It was small, but very attractive. The walls were painted cream color and the floor was covered with a blue and white oilcloth. The woodwork was the exact color of the walls. Around the room, six feet from the floor, ran a shelf set out with nests of blue and white bowls and cheap but effective plates and cups and saucers to match, all meant to use in cooking. Under the edge of the shelf, over the table, hooks were driven, and from these hung spoons and egg-beaters and the little things needed in stirring up dishes. The table itself was covered with blue and white enamel cloth. The sink was painted white, and the dish-towels were of crash marked off in blue squares. The open cupboard door showed shiny tins and blue and white saucepans, and some delightful contrivances in the way of cream-whippers and mayonnaise-droppers and moulds. Everything was not only spotless but charmingly pretty to look at. "Do you remember a book we had when we were small, called 'We Girls,' I think it was, in which the family decided to let their maid go and do their own work? They had a basement kitchen and an up-stairs dining-room, and the problem was how to manage. They solved it by doing the work up-stairs in the dining-room, behind a screen. The cooking-stove was brilliant and ornamental with polish. The carpeted floor--carpeted, mind you--never had a speck of flour or grease on it. The cooking was done as if by magic, and they called their workroom a 'ladies' kitchen.' That story made an undying impression on me when I was sixteen. I thought if Fate would only grant me the boon of doing my own work in a palatial kitchen like that, I should have no further requests to make. And I've never forgotten the idea behind the story. My kitchen simply must be an attractive room, bright and cheerful, with the 'rocking-chair and the white curtain and red geranium in the window,' which newspaper articles tell us nowadays are essential to make a maid contented; you know the kind of thing I mean! Well, since I mean to be a maid a good deal of my life, my kitchen too must be charmingly pretty. And I have not spared expense to make it so, either, for I regard all my blue bowls and labor-saving utensils as investments; they make my work easier, and that is everything when one has other things in the world to do besides cook." "But don't you have to keep supplying these things over and over? Your first outlay does not by any means cover the whole thing; you have to replace all the time." "Oh, no, for when I do my own work things last forever; I don't smash bowls and cups and burn the bottoms out of saucepans, as a maid does. And even when I have a maid, I find these things pay, for she will not break pretty things half as fast as she will ugly cracked and burned ones; those she does not bother handling with care. And then I watch the ten-cent counters and other places, and pick up blue and white ware when I find something very cheap; so it does not cost as much to keep stocked up as you would think. But now I want to show you my stoves. I have three of them--think of that!" "I don't see a single one," said Dolly, looking around in amazement. "That is because this is an apartment and not a house, and we cook by gas. But instead of having a range, as most people do, I got the landlord to just give me a three-holed stove standing on little low legs, connected with the gas-pipe with this flexible tube, which I can take off when I am not using it. When I want the stove, I first reach under this cooking-table and pull out this lower table,--an invention of my own; I'm thinking of patenting it. I got a small pine kitchen table, exactly like the larger one, and had six inches cut off the legs and rollers put on; you see it slips in and out easily under the regular table. Then I had the top covered with zinc, so nothing would set it on fire. Under this, on the floor, stands my gas-stove. I pull out the small table, set this stove on it, attach the tube to the gas-jet, and cook. The upper table holds all my extra dishes, you see, and I take them off when I want them on the gas. I have a splendid sheet-iron oven I use to bake things quickly; that I keep out by the refrigerator, because it is bulky, but it is light and easy to handle, so I don't mind lifting it in and out. Then when I have finished cooking I unfasten the gas pipe and let it hang down by the wall; I lift off my stove and put that on the floor, push my zinc table under my ordinary one, and there I am, all done and orderly. In a little kitchen like this I have to manage space. Of course if you have a good-sized apartment or a house you can have a regular gas-range, as other people do; but I am explaining how to manage if you have a tiny kitchen, such as many of us cliff-dwellers have to cook in. But in any case, have a zinc-topped table; you lift off a hot pot from the stove and set it down there and neither burn nor crock anything, and that is a real blessing when you have to do your own cleaning-up." "Doesn't your gas cost you a great deal each month? I remember hearing somewhere that it was expensive to cook with it." "It is not expensive for us, because I use it carefully. Of course if you have a maid who turns on four burners at once, and runs them for hours, you will have a frightful bill. But see these saucepans; three of them, and triangular in shape, so that when they are put together they make what looks like one good-sized round one. You can fill all three with vegetables or other things, and cook them at once on one burner. That's one great saving, to begin with." "But even so, when you cook soup or corned beef, or such things, which take hours and hours, you must use lots of gas, in spite of yourself." "Ah, that is where another great economy comes in. Look at my fireless stove!" From a corner she drew out a covered wooden box and raised the lid. It was lined with asbestos pads, some fitted close to the sides, others ready to tuck in here and there, or put over the top beneath the lid. "Now," she said, triumphantly, "you behold the eighth wonder of the world! I want to make soup, let us say, or a slow-cooking rice-pudding, or a stew. I put any one of them on the gas-stove and let them boil for fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on the size of the materials. A small pudding will need less time and soup more,--say twenty or twenty-five. Then I take it off, cover it tightly, put the dish or pot in the box and tuck it up carefully, shut down the cover, and set the box away. When I want it, six or eight hours later on, I open the box, and behold, my soup or my pudding is done to a turn and not a cent's worth of fuel used." "They'd have burned you for witchcraft a century ago," said Dolly, gazing awestruck at the miraculous box. "So they would have--cheerfully," Mary replied. "But wait a minute; I forgot to tell you that it also freezes ice-cream." "That fairy story, my dear, I distinctly decline to believe." "It's a fact, nevertheless. The way to do it is this: I make what is called by the initiated, a mousse; that is, I boil a cup of sugar and a cup of water to a thread, pour it slowly over the stiff whites of three eggs, just as you make boiled icing, and when I have beaten it till it is cold I fold in half a pint of whipped cream and flavor it. Then I put the whole in a little covered pail and set that in a larger pail. To admit a somewhat embarrassing truth, they are merely lard-pails which I save for this purpose. I put cracked ice and salt between the two, cover both, and set them in the box. As the pads retain cold as well as they do heat, the ice does not melt, and the mousse gradually freezes itself. Unlike ice-cream, you must never stir it any way; so that if I put the mousse away at noon I take it out for dinner a perfect frozen mould, which both metaphorically and literally melts in your mouth." "Do have it every day," begged Dolly, with fervor. "We will have it semi-occasionally," laughed her sister. "Cream, whites of eggs, and flavoring all cost money; but still we do and will have it at convenient periods. That is one of the things I keep a bank for; you will be surprised when you see how much I accumulate there from week to week." "I certainly shall be surprised if it turns out there is anything at all in it," declared the skeptical pupil, who had yet to learn economy. "Now see my third stove; no well-regulated family can manage without three. This thing that looks like a big square tin cracker-box is what is called an Aladdin oven. Perhaps you think I do not need it; but wait a minute. Suppose you want to have baked beans--" "Fred simply adores baked beans," Dolly murmured, parenthetically, hanging on her sister's words. "You can't afford to bake them in the gas-oven, because it takes a whole day or night; and of course you can't well bake things in the fireless stove. At least, you cannot make them crisp and brown there, though you can cook them in it. So you put this stove on the zinc table, light the Rochester burner which is attached to a lamp underneath, and then let it go on and bake for you without any attention. It will bake the beans a beautiful and artistic brown, and the kerosene in the lamp will cost you about two cents. Now are not my stoves worth their weight in gold? And if you are too poor to buy them, one of their greatest attractions is you can make two of them yourself. Take a wooden pail with a cover, and make hay-pads for your fireless stove, and get a real tin cracker-box and put a lamp under it for the Aladdin oven, and you will have good substitutes for both these." "Well, they are truly wonderful," said Dolly, with conviction, "and far be it from me to throw cold water. But suppose I live in a country village where there is no gas and where the kitchen is unheated. I don't see but that I shall have to have a real old-fashioned stove, and burn plain coal or wood in it, to heat the kitchen, nevertheless." "Yes, of course you will; these stoves do not heat the kitchen at all,--which, by the way, is a merit in city eyes. But you can have a regular stove for winter, and for summer a kerosene-stove, which is really as good as a gas-range, because it is made with a flame which does not smoke or black things up, and it has an oven lifting on and off exactly like this one on the gas-stove. That will save fuel and work and keep the house cool at the same time. But I certainly would have a fireless stove in any case, because you often want to cook things all night and still not keep the fire going. Oatmeal, for one thing, is far better cooked in this than on top of a stove; you let it simmer from eight at night till seven the next morning, and you will take it out in a sort of jelly which is delicious and very digestible. The Aladdin oven you can have or not, as you find you need it; perhaps in the country you might get on without it, but in town I find it a necessity." "The stoves must have cost a good deal," mused Dolly. "Did you buy them out of Incidentals?" "Yes, I did. I consider all utensils for my work necessities, and when I cannot buy them out of the margin in my tin bank I deliberately take the money out of the general fund; but in this case you can even things up by saving on Fuel, so it is all the same in the long run, you see. But now look at this pail; this is my bread-mixer." "You don't tell me that you make your own bread! Why, I supposed of course you bought that in the city. Isn't it a nuisance to have to make it?" "Simply child's play with this. In the evening I put in the flour and milk and water and yeast, according to the directions, exactly so much of each; then I turn the handle and beat them up for five minutes, cover the pail, and set it away in a nice cozy place, and in the morning I beat it all up again for three minutes in the same way, and put it in my pans to rise. Afterwards I bake it in my gas-oven. In summer I mix it up in the morning and bake it the same day, because, of course, it rises more quickly in warm weather." "Do you really save much by making it yourself? Because unless you do, I think I'll buy mine; I am sure I would rather." "I should say you did save! Why, baker's bread would cost at least five cents a day, getting only one loaf, and that is nearly a dollar and a half a month, and a good deal more than a bag of flour would cost, which would last twice as long at least. Flour is expensive to buy by the bag, too; if I could I should always get a barrel at a time, and save a bagful by doing so, but I have no place to put a barrel, and when we are alone it lasts too long, and in a steam-heated apartment it possibly might spoil. But if you live in the country, buy this by the quantity." "Don't you always buy things by the quantity? I thought all careful housekeepers made a point of doing that." "That depends. If I have a maid I seldom do, because experience has taught me that, generally speaking, the more she has to 'do' with, the more she uses up and wastes, and it is natural enough that she should do just that way. So I find the best way is never to have too much on hand. I get a few pounds of sugar, only one box of gelatine, half a cake of chocolate, and so on. I know there is a theory that by buying at wholesale you save a good deal, and so you do, on paper. Actually, with a maid, I believe you use enough to even the account. You know the French, whom I always try and copy as far as possible, since they are such wonderful managers, buy only in tiny quantities, such as we should be ashamed to ask for in our shops. I am perfectly sure if it were cheaper to buy in quantities they would do that way. "But of course there are exceptions to this rule; when I do my own work, at least, I frequently do buy a good deal at a time. Tea and coffee I get in small quantities, because they do not improve by keeping; canned vegetables we use rather seldom, and I get those only by the half-dozen. Still I save a little there, because a half-dozen of this and that gives a discount on the whole dozen or dozens that they come to. Butter I buy by rule: a pound a week for each person, when I have a maid; when we are alone I frequently manage to use a little less. Sometimes, too, I get a pound of good cooking-butter and help out with that a little. "I make it a point to read the market reports in the papers and get an idea of what is cheapest at the moment. Sometimes things will fluctuate from week to week in the most curious way, and you can find real bargains in fruit or some particular vegetable. For instance, when I read that a ship has come in loaded with dates or lemons or pineapples or Bermuda onions, I wait a few days till they are distributed, and then I ask for them, and invariably the price has dropped below normal. So I do not lay down any hard and fast rule about buying, but I just do as seems best from time to time. There are certain things I should do if I had more room, such as buy flour, as I told you, and sugar as well, by the barrel. I cannot do that in a small apartment. In the country I should put in winter vegetables each fall; that, too, I cannot do here, but I try and make it up in other ways." "Could you not do with a maid as the Southerners do with their colored people, and give out stores every morning?" "Perhaps some women might, but, honestly, I have not the moral courage to do so. When everybody does it, as in the South, it is accepted as a perfectly proper thing to do. Here it would be thought mean and small, and a maid would think herself under suspicion of possible theft, and I am sure she would take herself off at the first moment. No, it would not do to try such a thing here, I am sure." "But with other things besides groceries which you must have, table-linen and bed-linen and towels, how do you do about buying those things? Do you lay in a supply every year at a regular time, or get them as you go along?" "Linen is one of the things it is difficult to get when you have a small income, and when your housekeeping allowance does not permit any margin larger than just enough for staples. I have to do as best I can here, too. Of course the linen I had when I was married still exists, but most of it is too fine for us to use every day. Costly tablecloths and napkins wear out when they are in constant use, and if I get rid of mine rapidly I shall never be able to replace them; so, though I have so much, I am about on a level with the woman who has none. Don't make the mistake I made, Dolly, and buy your linen all of the loveliest quality. I know it is a temptation, when a father who does not mind what things cost is paying the bills. It is not wise in your future circumstances to have too much beautiful linen and too little that is good also, but plainer and heavier. Get an abundance of small tablecloths and lunch squares, and napkins of medium size, and good strong towels, and sensible sheets and pillow-cases of cotton. I know linen sheets and pillow-cases with monograms on them are delightful to have, but then in a short time you must buy, buy, buy, as you find these are not what you need in your particular surroundings, and with a laundress who possibly stoops to use soda in her washing once in awhile when she thinks you won't find her out. "As to replacing these things, I get a dozen napkins or towels or a tablecloth when I have the money and when they are cheap; that is all I can tell you about it. I do not buy them at regular intervals, because I cannot do that way. I believe, of course, in putting in just so much linen every year and so never getting short, only I can't do it." "I suppose all your things need replacing at times. When chair coverings wear out, and carpets, and your china set breaks to bits gradually till it disappears, do you fly to Incidentals, or what?" "Oh, I do as I told you before; I manage as best I can. You learn to cover your own furniture in time, not elegantly, but well enough. You paint or stain your floors when your carpets wear out, and put down rugs, not always Oriental rugs, either, but occasionally artistic--and luckily fashionable--rag-carpet rugs made in beautiful colors, dyed just the way you want them, in olive-greens or dull orange or old blue; they are really beautiful, and I mean to have plenty of them as my wedding supply of good rugs gradually goes. As for china, I take care of what I have, you may be sure, and once in awhile I put Christmas money or birthday money from home into a set of plates for salad or dessert; or I save up and buy a whole set of platters and vegetable dishes and plates for a main course. Even if I were rich I should never care for a whole dinner-service that matched. I like different kinds of plates for different courses, though they ought to harmonize. Then as tumblers and such small things vanish, I cut down my table expenses for a week and buy them with my savings, unless my tin bank is full at the time. I will not break into Incidentals unless I must." "No, I should expect you to serve water in tin mugs before you would touch that sacred sum." "Well, perhaps I might do that way; I'm glad you suggested it." "Is that the end of the lesson for the day?" "What have you written down?" "'Have a pretty kitchen,'" read Dolly. "'Have a zinc table and three stoves; make your own bread; buy some things by quantity and don't buy others so; have linen not too nice for hard usage; get dishes as you can, when they break; and don't buy anything with money out of Incidentals." "Very good indeed, especially the last warning," laughed Mary. "Now the class is dismissed, for it is too lovely to stay indoors another minute, and we will go to market and then down-town. By the way, one of the joys in having no maid is that you can turn the key in your door and walk off any minute you please and leave no anxieties behind you. You know the dishes are washed and put away, there is nothing left in the oven to burn, and no mistakes to be made by anybody; and you come home when you please. I just love to do my own work!" "What a desirable state of mind to be in," Dolly replied. "Let us hope I'll attain that same lofty height by the time my 'prentice year is up." CHAPTER III Arranging the Meals--Cooking-Dresses--The Table--The Dinner "Now that you know all about your working-tools in the kitchen and pantry, I think it is time you should begin to take them in hand," said Mrs. Thorne, the next morning. "Don't you remember how Squeers used to teach his boys first to spell 'bot-tin-ney,' and then go and weed the garden to prove that the lesson had been learned? That's my principle, exactly. So now as to to-day's work; I have been thinking it over and I believe we must study the routine of the meals theoretically and go on to illustrate by getting them practically. But where to begin--that is the trouble; I'm such a novice in teaching that I am bewildered what to take up first." "Bread-making, I suppose," said Dolly, with regret. "Oh, no, indeed, not for a long time yet. First, the theory, you know." "Well, while you are thinking about it I will just occupy the time with asking some questions. One of them is this: do you always look as neat and trim when you do your work, or is this costume a sort of stage-dress for my benefit?" "My dear, I can proudly say I always look just as I do now, and I'll tell you why. When I first had to do my own work, years ago, I put on a short skirt and shirt-waist, with an apron over all; that, I supposed, was just the proper thing. Then I rolled up my sleeves, took off my stock or collar, and hung it on a nail in the kitchen, and did my dishes or cooked. When the door-bell rang I put on my collar and unrolled my sleeves and took off my apron, and answered it. It was not long before I discovered that my sleeves were perpetually mussed, and I had temporarily lost my self-respect by dispensing with a collar. Then, too, in spite of all I could do, the dish-water would sometimes splash over and the lower part of my dress would get greasy. I spoiled two good tailor-skirts that way. And worst of all, when Dick came home, all I could do by way of dressing to meet him was to put on another fresh shirt-waist and a clean apron, because I knew that after dinner I should wash the dishes. The consequence was that I never wore my pretty frocks at all, and my husband knew me only as a cook; sometimes a cook who sat with him in the parlor, but a cook, nevertheless, and one who did not change her dress after the dishes were done for the night, and so had to run when callers came for the evening. "After a few weeks of that sort of thing I made up my mind it would never do. I must be a 'lady help,' even though there was no one to help but Dick. So I changed my plans of work and got some especial gowns, and I have kept to a sort of uniform like this ever since, to my infinite satisfaction. If you look me over carefully you may discover the points I had in mind when I planned it." Dolly looked. "I see," she said, slowly. "Elbow sleeves, to keep from rolling them up; and a little square Dutch neck just below the collar line, so you won't have to wear a collar; and a short, full skirt, just off the floor; and the color, my dear,--and here you show your feminine vanity,--a most becoming blue!" "I hope so," said Mary, not at all abashed. "I like to have becoming clothes, even in the kitchen. But you did not say a word of the material; all my working things are ginghams or some sort of wash goods. Then they are all in one piece, and trimmed with plain bias bands edged with a fold of white, or some similar contrivance. I put an apron on when I do kitchen work and try and keep the dresses clean as long as I can, and when they are soiled put them right in the tub, and they take no time to do up. And, by the way, they are not all this pretty color. I have still more serviceable ones of dark navy blue, and others of striped gray and white, like a nurse's dress; but I am thankful to say they are all pretty and all becoming, and far neater in every way than my shirt-waist and skirt used to be." "Do you wear the same thing summer and winter?" "No; in summer I have thin things, lawns and dimities and organdies, but they are all made like this. Even my dress-up summer things are apt to be, too, because I like the fashion and it never 'goes out,' as other fashions do." "But you don't wear this uniform at dinner. At least you change every afternoon now to a more or less dress-up frock. Is that for my benefit? Do you wear these gowns when you are alone?" "No, never. I always put on a fresh and pretty gown after my lunch dishes are put away and my dinner all ready but heating it up or doing the last necessary cooking. Then I spend the afternoon like a lady of leisure. At dinner-time I put a mammoth long-sleeved apron on and go out in the kitchen and finish up as I am; I take off my apron before the dinner is served, too. If I have to carry out plates and wait, as of course I do when we are alone, then I have a really pretty little white apron I slip on; but I will look as nice as I can at my own dinner-table." "And spill the greasy dish-water around the edge of the dress, as you did before?" "Never again; I learned my lesson at that time. No, my dresses clear the ground all around; that had to be so, to my regret, because I love a long gown for dinner, but I will not pin up a train at the back with a safety-pin, as so many do, nor will I wear things soiled. I have them just a tiny bit off the floor, and put on the big apron. As to the dish-water, Dolly, to let you into an awful secret which would make our New England grandmother turn in her grave, I never do any dishes at night; that is part of the lesson I told you I had mastered. I just clear the table, scrape the things and pile them in the big dish-pan, with some very hot water and a little soap powder, and there they repose till morning. I tidy the kitchen and dining-room in about three minutes, and that is all I do. Then I take off my apron and go into the parlor, rested and ready to spend the evening with my husband." "Do you never set the breakfast-table at night?" "No; it does not take any time to do it in the morning, and, as I tell you, I will not do a single unnecessary thing at night. Then I have more important things to think of; books to read and friends to see and a husband to entertain. I am in earnest, Dolly. That is all a part of learning how to manage to keep a home as well as a house." "I certainly shall never learn enough to marry on, I see that. But tell me more while we are on this subject. How do you have such a pretty table all the time and still economize in everything, including time and strength? I should think it would take both money and labor to keep up as you do." "To speak with seriousness still, then, I am convinced most girls make a great mistake when, after having had pretty things all their lives, they marry on a small income and one by one give up their dainty little ways of doing. Sometimes they put everything on the table at once at dinner; sometimes they have a tablecloth that has seen better days; sometimes they dispense with a fern-dish, or stop cleaning the silver. I call it all bad management. One can keep up the traditions of niceness just as easily as to dispense with them, and to my mind it is false economy to let down. If you must have plain food, it tastes better, and I believe it nourishes you more, if it is set out attractively. No, Dolly, never give up using your pretty dishes and doilies, and keep your silver and glass bright, and learn to do it so easily that it is a matter of course, and it will never be the last straw that reduces you to nervous prostration, as some women believe. Ugly things, soiled and broken things, and careless living, are far more likely to wear out your nerves than trifles such as I am telling you to attend to." "But as to details, Mary. Take your breakfast and lunch-table; there are those doilies, always clean and white, and your pretty blue and white china. How about the laundress's bills and the cost of the dishes?" "There is no economy, to my thinking, greater than is found in using doilies, to begin with. I put them on as you see, always, for two meals. When one gets mussed or gets a spot on it I wash it out when I do my dishes; I have an iron on and press it as soon as it dries, right here in the kitchen, and it is ready for next time. When they all need a regular boiling, I put a set in the weekly wash, and the laundress does them in far less time than she would a tablecloth. For dinner of course I do use a cloth, but having it on only once a day it lasts a week, and there is but one in the wash instead of two or three, as there would be otherwise. If a spot comes on this I rub it out in a hand-basin and stretch the cloth out smoothly on the table and leave it to dry; then if it is rough, I put on an iron for a moment. Of course I should not use a soiled cloth under any circumstances." "And the china?" "That is just cheap blue and white Japanese stuff that I have picked up a piece at a time, sometimes at the ten-cent stores; it would chip in the hands of some maids, I suppose, but I am careful of it. If I had a maid who broke things I would get other and heavier kinds of blue and white; there are plenty that are cheap and pretty. I love blue and white for breakfast and luncheon." "And how often do you clean the silver?" "I wash it every day in very hot soapsuds and dry it quickly; that keeps it bright a long time. Then usually I polish it all once a week, some rainy afternoon when I am not pressed for time." "Well, this is all a revelation to me. I supposed people who 'did their own work,' as we say, had to have everything very plain, and, to be honest, very uncomfortable. I supposed they put on a dinner-cloth in the morning and kept the table set most of the day, and saved steps by having on all the food at once at each meal. I hate that way of living, too. But how do you do about waiting on the table? Do you keep jumping up and down all the time?" "Certainly not, my dear--perish the thought! When you lay your table put on the bread, the butter balls, if you use them, the jelly, if you are to have any, and fill the glasses. Put on the sideboard the salad, the dressing, the plates and crackers; put the dessert there, too, with its plates, and the coffee-cups and spoons. Have ready there also extra bread and butter, if necessary, and fill the water-pitcher before the meal is served. Then take up all the dinner, and put the vegetables in the covered dishes in the warming-oven, and the meat ready there also on the platter; leave nothing to do after you sit down that you can do beforehand. "In changing the courses you can set the soiled plates on the sideboard, to save leaving the room, provided you have the next course there; or, if you like, you can have a low two-shelved serving-table on casters close by your side at the table. You can put the plates on this if you can easily reach them, as you can if you have a small round table for two, and if your next course is on one of the two shelves, instead of on the sideboard, you may be able to produce it from there and put it right on and not get up at all; that is a very easy way of doing." "You use a coffee machine, I see; do you like it better than the old way of making the coffee in the kitchen?" "Without a maid I certainly do. I light this before dinner, and when we are ready it is there, ready for us, and I do not have to go out for it." "Single-handed housekeeping has its ways of doing of which people never dream who have always had maids to wait on them. I think that all sounds simple enough." "It is simple, and yet it is nice, and things go smoothly. Now, next I want to say some things about having dinner at night, for that is one of my hobbies. I believe it is by far the easiest way to manage when one is to be the cook as well as the lady of the house." "Most people don't think so, I fancy." "Well, but they have not tried it, perhaps. It is a tradition in many places, especially in the country, to have dinner at noon and supper at night, on the ground that supper is the easy meal to get and clear away, but I maintain that it makes one work all day. Now listen: Suppose you are to have dinner at noon. After breakfast you must hurry and do up the dishes and get the house in order; go to market as early as possible, in order that the food may come home in good season; come back, make dessert, lay the dinner-table, and as soon as your orders arrive, clean the vegetables, put the meat on to cook, and generally prepare the meal. If it is ready by half-past twelve or one o'clock you have been busy every single moment since you got up. Then after dinner there are all the dishes to wash and put away and the supper to begin, unless that you have done in the morning with the other things. By three o'clock you have finished, but you are all tired out, if you are a normal woman of average strength. "Now see how different the matter is with dinner at night. After breakfast you wash and put away the dishes from the night before with the breakfast dishes; then you do up the housework and examine the refrigerator. As you have only a light meal to get for noon, you will ordinarily find something there which you can have; or you can decide to get something simple and prepare it just before lunch. Next you go down-town and market in a leisurely manner, because you are not in a desperate rush to get the things home. When you return you prepare the dinner; put the soup-meat and bones in the fireless stove to cook, or make a milk soup to reheat; make the dessert and set it away; stir up salad-dressing; bake a cake, or do any such light cooking. When the grocery boy comes and the butcher's boy, you prepare the vegetables for dinner and do whatever you have to to the meat; perhaps put it in the fireless stove, if it is a stew, or chop it if it is to be any sort of mince. "Then you have luncheon; scrambled eggs, or devilled sardines, or any light dish, with tea. Afterwards you wash and put away these dishes, and then your afternoon is before you; it cannot be later than two o'clock at the worst. You sew, or go out, or rest in any way you like, and at five or half-past, at the earliest, you put the final touches to the dinner and lay the table. Afterwards, as I have said, you pile the dishes in the dish-pan in a nice, tidy way, and your day's work is done. That seems to me the easiest sort of housekeeping. However, I don't mean to dogmatize. This is merely my own idea, and if you don't agree with me, but later on you can manage better some other way, do so, and accept my blessing." "Certainly I shall. But as I now see the case, I shall do just as you do and continue to have dinner at night to the end of the chapter. You might have added to your other reasons for having it than the one we were taught at school, that it is most hygienic to have the heavy meal when work is over." "That is true; I did not think of it, but there is that in its favor as well as the ease and comfort of it. But now to go on to other things about dinners." "Why do you begin with dinners? I should think you would take up breakfast first and then luncheons." "For one thing, dinner is the principal meal of the day and therefore the most important; for another, as the two lighter meals are largely made up of left-overs from dinner, you must begin with that or you will not have anything for the other two." "Oh, yes, of course. Go on, then, with the lesson." "The first rule for dinners is this: Always have your food in courses. You would be surprised to find that plenty of poor people--poor but respectable, like ourselves--would dispute this, but I assure you they would. They have an idea that with a small income you should have one large, substantial course of meat and vegetables, with perhaps a solid pudding or pie to follow, and eliminate all frills and fashions of service. To them the plan of a three-course dinner every day is a wild vagary, not to be considered by people living on a little; but really it is the truest economy. Look at the French; I have to point to them over and over, even if you tire of hearing about them. They can make a tiny bit of money go farther than an American would dream possible, and they always have their dinners in courses. You may be perfectly positive that there is good, solid reason back of that fact, for unless they saved money by it they would not do so. "You will see how it is if you think a moment, too. If you give a hungry family, or even a lone hungry man, a plate of strong, substantial soup, the edge of his appetite is blunted, and when the meat course appears, instead of demanding two helpings, one will probably suffice. Now as meat is your most expensive item of housekeeping, you can easily see what an advantage that is. Soups are very wholesome, and, if you will kindly overlook the slang, decidedly 'filling at the price.' You will save materially, your family will have stronger digestions and better health, and no one will suspect your economic motive. "Then after the soup, of course you have your substantial course; and here comes in my second rule: Remember that you cannot have any expensive meats. Give up all your preconceived ideas of what is 'proper' for dinner. You cannot have the proper thing; instead you must have the cheap thing. Roasts, steaks, and chickens are not for you. In their place you must have all sorts of queer things, which you would naturally call luncheon or supper dishes. It seems strange and unpleasant, doesn't it? But that is the way it has to be if you are to be a good manager. However, here is a grain of comfort for you: men seldom pay much attention to details; to them, meat is meat, and if it is good and there is plenty of it, it does not much matter from what part of the animal it is cut nor how much it costs a pound. So a Hamburg steak or a stew or a meat pie is all right, provided only that it is appetizing and nourishing. And as I said, the costly things you simply cannot have." "Do you really mean we are never to have a roast?" "Oh, once in awhile you may have one, for Sunday dinner or for company; but for steady diet you are to have simpler things. And here comes in my third rule, no less important than the other two: Never use up the meat from one day's dinner for breakfast or luncheon, but always save it for dinner the second day. That seems absurd and impossible, I know, for sometimes there is nothing worth mentioning left over; but listen: "Suppose you get three pounds of lamb stew one day, which is too much for a single meal; you cook it all, take out the large bones and put them over for soup, and serve half the meat for dinner. The second night you have the other half in a meat pie, with any gravy you do not need you put in the stock-pot. Now, incidentally, let me say that sometimes lamb is expensive, so do not rush madly off when you market and invest largely in it because I said it was cheap. Always watch the price and buy only when things are low in price. "You see this is the way I plan: I make a point of buying enough meat for two dinners at one time, because one large purchase costs less and goes farther than two smaller ones. You can buy a pound and a half of chopped beef and make two meals of it for less than you can buy one pound one day and a second pound the next, and that is what you would do, practically, if you bought each day." "But I am sure Fred would not like Hamburg steak twice running, Mary." "He need not have it. I buy the two days' supply at once, say the steak on Monday; I serve half that night in one fashion; Tuesday night I have something quite different, perhaps veal; Wednesday night we have the rest of the steak in another way from the way we had it Monday night, and Thursday night we finish up the veal, also in a different way from the Tuesday night style. That gives variety, and a man cannot keep count of these things in spite of his alleged mathematical mind, so it works perfectly." "Suppose you don't get enough for two nights, or the man eats more than you expected he would and you are short, what do you do then?" "I manage, my dear. If I have a good deal of meat left over from the first day's dinner I have perhaps English rissoles; or I have a nice dish of baked hash; or a cottage loaf; or I have a meat pie. "If I run short and have only a little meat, as you suggest, I have a soufflé, which takes only a cup of chopped meat for a good-sized dishful. I'll give you the rule for that. Or, I have croquettes; they are one of the queer dishes apparently out of place at dinner, but they are good and make a change, and when you have only a little meat they are invaluable. You see what I mean. Plan to get enough meat for two dinners at once, and if you are short on the second night, have a little dish of left-overs, disguised." "But do you think croquettes would be enough dinner for a hungry man? I have an idea they would be considered as a sort of appetizer only." "Of course they would not be enough; what an idea! You have forgotten soup. Always have a course of distinctly heavy soup when you are to have a light meal, and vice versa. With corned beef you can have a thin stock, clear; but with croquettes have a rich, substantial bean soup or split pea purée, and have solid vegetables with the meat and a good dessert. All those things may be cheap and not bring up your bills at all, and still you can keep down that dreadful item we housekeepers all must struggle with,--meat." "And do you have fish on Fridays?" "Yes, I have fish occasionally, for a change, but I am careful to buy that which has little waste. Large, whole fishes for baking are expensive, for the head and tail have to come off, you see. I get codfish steaks or sometimes a little halibut; neither of those has any waste at all. Or, if there were a river near by, or a lake, I should find out what they caught there and buy that. One day I have the fish as it comes from market, baked or fried, or otherwise prepared; the next day I have the remains scalloped with crumbs and baked. Sometimes I have them in cream sauce, baked in the same way. Once in awhile I get a can of salmon in the place of fresh fish and use it in exactly the same way; and when the exchequer gets very low indeed, I take salt codfish and freshen it and cream and bake it, and invariably Dick compliments me on the extremely good halibut I have!" "Absurd! But to go on: tell me about the vegetables and salads and desserts that you have." "I can't do it all at once, my dear; you are so energetic! We will take a special lesson on each of those important things as we come to them. Just now I am laying down principles, you see, and I was speaking of courses at dinner when you diverted me with your questions, just as a pupil when she is not prepared does to a teacher. But perhaps you have my idea, and I can stop here." "Yes, I think I understand. Have a heavy soup when you have a light course to follow; have a light soup with a heavy meat; have vegetables with the meat and dessert last; is that all?" "Often I have meat and vegetables first and then salad next; always in summer, I think. It is the best way in hot weather. But have three courses,--that is the economic point I am striving for,--and have coffee last, if you can. Men love coffee for dinner, and if it is black and only a little is taken, it is considered a digestive; and, like other things, it helps out." "Think of the dishes you are piling up for me to wash in the morning, Mary!" "Not at all. Only a poor cook ever has piles of dishes to wash up. Wash up all your cooking utensils as you go along. When you have finished with anything, even a bowl or spoon, take it to the sink, wash, wipe, and put it away; it takes no more steps to do it then than it will later. After dinner at night there should be only the few dishes actually in use on the table; if, possibly, you cannot manage to wash up your broiler or frying-pan because you use them at the last minute, and also because they are too greasy to handle in your nice gown, put these in a special dish-pan all by themselves, with hot water and washing-powder, and stand this out of the way till morning; so much is allowable." "Is that all for to-day?" Dolly inquired, seeing her sister preparing to do some cooking. "Yes, that is all, and though you may not think it amounts to much, you will see more in the lesson when you come to keep house than you do now. If you always are neat and look attractive, if you always serve a delightful course dinner for a minimum sum, and have a pretty table, you will be far on your way toward being the perfect housewife." "I wish I were at the end now," murmured Dolly. "Then you would lose half the fun of life, my dear. The interest of your studies grows the farther you get along, as I have told you before. Long before you know it all you will be sighing for more worlds to conquer." Dolly looked unconvinced, but her sister laughed at her sober face. "Mark my words, before you are a finished housekeeper you will love your work!" CHAPTER IV Soups and Meats "When I came to look over what you said about soups and meats the other day," Dolly complained at the next lesson, "I found it was all glittering generalities. I didn't have a thing written down under soups but 'beans' and 'split peas,' and as to meats, it was mostly don'ts or left-overs. Now, before you go off on anything else, suppose you tell me a lot more about these things." "So I will. Perhaps I did generalize a bit, but I do not always realize that you do not know how to use a cook-book yet; if you did you could look up all these things for yourself. "To begin with soups, then, like 'all Gaul,' they are divided into three parts.' There are soups made with vegetables and water and nothing else; soups made with a foundation of meat and bones; and milk-and-vegetable soups. The first kind is the cheapest, and we will start there. "There are any number of good things to make these soups of, principally beans,--black, white, red, and Lima beans, all dried. You must soak them, cook them slowly in another water, season well with a slice of onion, salt, and pepper, and put them, when they are soft and pulpy, through the sieve. What is called a purée sieve is the best, because it is made in such a way that it presses the vegetables through itself. Then you must thicken the soup with a little bit of butter melted and rubbed with flour; this is not because it is not thickened with the vegetables already, but because the water will separate from the rest if no extra thickening is used. You can have the soup rather thin to make it just right after it is thickened. "Black bean soup is the best kind; this really needs a bone of some sort cooked with it, a ham bone if you have it. Then it takes lots of seasoning, a pinch of mustard, a thin slice or two of lemon, and last a little chopped hard-boiled egg on top at serving; but it pays for the slight trouble of making it because it is so good; have it often in winter. White bean soups also need a good deal of seasoning, and a bone is good in them, but not really necessary. Left-over baked beans make a good brown soup, and dried Lima beans are excellent; alternate these, and make each one by rule, for each has some little touch of seasoning which makes it have a taste of its own. Any cook-book will tell you how, because all of them are so simple to put together. Besides these there is one more thick soup, split pea purée, which you must have too. You can buy the peas in packages, but you can also get them in bulk, and that is the cheaper way. You soak and cook them exactly as you do the beans, and serve them with croutons on top; croutons are tiny squares of bread browned in the oven,--not fried in fat, as some people make them; those are very greasy. "You can also make purées of any fresh vegetable, carrots, or garden peas, or a mixture of several kinds of vegetables; cook them with onion and salt and pepper and bits of celery or parsley, and put them through the sieve and thicken them. All of them are improved by adding a little milk, but they will do as they are if you have none to spare." "Do you put a bone in purées?" "If I happen to have one I do, but not otherwise; I never buy a bone for such a soup. Remember that these thick soups go with the dinners with the light meat course, because they are so substantial. Now we will go on to the next kind. "The stock soups are made with water, bones, meat, and vegetables. Some housekeepers keep a stock pot on the back of the range and put in it any odds and ends they happen to have, adding more water and seasoning from time to time. When they want a soup, they pour off enough of the stock, strain and clarify it, and either use it as it is or put in something like tomato or potato. This is all very well if you have a range which goes day and night, and if you are careful to completely empty the pot twice a week in winter and three times a week in summer and scrub it out thoroughly and start an entirely fresh lot of bones and meat; otherwise the whole will have a sour taste. I think a better way is to start a soup on the fire and cook it all night in the tireless stove; start it over again in the morning, and cook it half a day more, and then cool and use it." "Do you mean you pour off the soup, and it is all right just as it is?" "No, indeed; you first put what bones and meat and vegetables you have in cold water and slowly bring them to the boiling point and skim well. Then you must simmer and simmer on the stove or in the tireless box. When it is done you cool it, take off the white cake of fat on top and save it for frying purposes; heat the soup again and clarify it by stirring in a washed and broken up egg-shell and a little of the white. When this has boiled with the soup for two minutes, the whole will clear. Then you strain it and divide it; half you can have one night with tapioca or barley or minced vegetables, and the other half another night with perhaps tomato in it." "Do you buy bones and things for stock soup?" "No, because I use what I have. I don't think it is necessary to buy things for it; but one thing I do; I keep a little kitchen bouquet in the house. It comes in a small bottle on purpose, and it flavors the soup and at the same time colors it brown; that is really necessary, making soup out of odd things, for too often it has little color. "Milk soups come next, and those are always nice; cream of celery or cream of corn are among the best things we can have. Unfortunately, if you have to buy your milk, they are rather expensive; however, I will tell you how to make them in case you have an extra pint to use up at any time. You take about a cupful of any vegetable and cook it in a pint of water till it is pulpy, adding a little onion, salt, and pepper; then you put it through the sieve, and add a pint of milk, or, rather, add as much milk as you have water, for often you can use only half a pint of each. Then you thicken it slightly, cook it up once, strain, and serve. You can use left-overs of any sort for this,--the outer leaves of lettuce, a little spinach, a few cooked beets, or minced carrot, or a mixture of any different thing you happen to have in the refrigerator. I often make this soup in the morning and just heat it up for dinner, to save time; or, I get the vegetables ready and add the milk at night. Now that is the end of the soup lesson; it is too easy to spend more time over." "But I can think of ever and ever so many more soups you have not so much as mentioned," said Dolly, indignant at having her thirst for information treated in this summary manner. "You have not spoken of oyster soup or clam chowder, or tomato bisque, or potato soup, or--" Mary put her hands over her ears. "I won't listen," she said. "I am not compiling a cook-book, as I keep on telling you over and over. I am only laying down general instructions, and after you get those fixed in your mind you can go on by yourself and have no trouble at all. I am in such a hurry to get on to meats, to tell the truth, that I feel like skipping everything to get to that, because to my mind it is the most important of all the subjects we have to learn about. It is where most housekeepers come to grief, if they do. I consider that a girl who wants to really live on a little cannot know too much about meat; she must simply have the whole subject at her finger-ends. "Remember what I told you in your last lesson, that you cannot have regular dinner meat at all, but instead must have plain and cheap dishes of all sorts and kinds. Now we will begin with beef, because that is really our staple; it is good and nourishing and has no waste about it. Also it does not vary much in price in the different seasons of the year; it is a plain, substantial, dependable sort of meat. "Though we cannot have regular roasting-roasts, we may have pot-roasts. To make those you buy a sort of square piece from the round. Do not let the butcher persuade you to get a long, thin piece; insist on a chunk. Sear this all over by pressing it down in a hot frying-pan, first on one side and then on the other; this makes a covering that keeps in the juices. Then simmer it a long, long time in a deep covered dish; a casserole, or a crock, or some such thing. When it is half-done put in salt and pepper, chopped onions, and plenty of finely minced vegetables, and keep on cooking till it is tender and the juice is pretty well absorbed. You can cook it in the tireless stove all day, or keep it shut up in the oven of the range, or let it cook slowly on the back of it; but it must cook very slowly and a long, long time. This is all good solid meat, and a four-pound piece will easily make three meals, with perhaps something over for croquettes. "Beef stew is just this same sort of thing; beef cut in finger lengths, and cooked with vegetables till very soft. Serve that with the gravy thickened. Chopped beef you can have in a dozen ways. Buy cheap beef and put it through your own meat-chopper, to be quite sure it is perfectly clean. Sometimes I get three pounds at once, and make up two pounds into beef loaf, mixing it with a cup of bread crumbs, an egg, salt, and pepper, and a little bit of salt pork. I put it in a bread tin and bake it two hours, basting it well with melted butter and water mixed, and serve it hot, with either a brown gravy or a tomato sauce. That is a dish good enough for a king. For the second dinner you slice what is left, and heat this in the gravy or tomato; or, have brown gravy with the loaf and thick tomato with the slices. "The other pound I make into a steak. Now real porter-house steak is far too costly for you and me, but I recommend this substitute; you will be surprised to see how exactly it looks like a porter-house and how good it tastes. Copy the shape and size of the real thing, and flatten out the chopped meat and make it into a long piece, larger at one end than the other. Have the butcher give you some strips of suet and press one down through the middle, to represent the bone; put the other one all around the steak to look like the edge of fat. Then put this into a hot, dry frying-pan and cook it, turning it only once and dusting with salt and pepper as you do so. Do not overcook it, as it should be pink inside. Take it up on a hot platter, put a little butter on top and parsley around the edge, and, behold, a perfectly gorgeous porter-house! "When I am going to make a beef loaf, and do not intend to have this steak, however, I get only two pounds and a half of the meat, and the extra half-pound I make up into little balls and fry. At the same time I fry thick rounds of banana and put one on each ball when I take them up; this is a very good combination. Or, Dolly, if you will never betray me, I will tell you a horrid secret. Twice a year, when the equinoctial storm rages and I am positively certain no one can go out or come in that evening, I make up a plain little steak without suet of the extra half-pound, and all around the edge I put--fried onions!" "I don't wonder you said it was a horrid secret. I don't think I shall ever sink to that low level; fried onions are not romantic." "Still, put it down, equinoctial and all, my dear, for Fred probably will approve the dish in spite of your prejudice. And now one thing more about steak: did you ever hear of a flank steak?" "Never in my life." "That is the answer most women would make to the question, I fancy; yet, strange to say, many epicures think this one of the best dishes of beef there is. You get the butcher to cut you one, and hang it till it is tender. Then broil it, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and dot with butter mixed with chopped parsley; if you have any doubts about its being tender, score it all over with a sharp knife and lay it in a little oil and vinegar mixed for half an hour or more before you cook it. You will really find it a delicious piece of meat, and you will have enough over for a second dinner, at least." "Do you ever have corned beef?" "Once in awhile. When we have it, I cook it till it is very tender and serve it as it is the first night; then I put it back in the water it was cooked in, to keep it from drying out, and the second time I have it I cut it up in even cubes and cream them and put them in a baking-dish with crumbs and butter on top, and brown it in the oven. It is difficult to use up corned beef, for it is not good sliced and warmed over, as most meats are. Sometimes we have it cold, with a hot soup and vegetables; or I have a dish of hash put in a mould and baked. I turn this out and surround it with a ring of minced carrots and turnips; that does very well indeed. The stock I make into bean soup. "Veal I find a most useful meat, for there is so little waste about it, like beef. When I have a roast I get the breast and stuff it and it is just as good as the higher priced roasts. I get the cheap cut from the leg too, and have a stew with dumplings in it, or a meat pie; if I have any over I sometimes mix it with egg, gravy, and crumbs and make a loaf of it. Or I mince it, add chopped hard-boiled eggs, and serve it that way. Then there is veal stew cooked with tomatoes; to make that, cut up the meat, add a slice of onion and a small cup of tomato, with a tablespoonful of rice or barley, and simmer them all till they are almost solid. This is very nourishing and good. Veal cutlet is expensive, but half a pound goes a long way if you have it cut in small bits and pound them out, and bread and fry them. "Then there is veal loaf; that is a delightful dish. Get the cheapest veal you can buy and chop it; add a little chopped salt pork, bread crumbs, seasoning, some celery if you have any, or chopped nuts, and bake it as you did the beef loaf; that will make at least two dinners. In summer you can have that for dinner, cold. "And also for summer, do not forget to have veal and ham pie. You get about a pound of veal, a slice of ham, and a veal knuckle bone, and simmer them all together till the meat drops apart; put this in layers in a deep baking-dish, and add seasoning. Boil down the stock to a cupful, strain it, add a level teaspoonful of gelatine dissolved in cold water, and pour it all over the meat; put on a thin crust and bake it. Set it away to get ice-cold, and you will have a pie with the meat set in a delicious aspic jelly." "Wasn't that the 'Weal and hammer' of the Boffins?" "It was indeed, and worthy of immortalization, too. And now as to a second dinner off one of these firsts. One of the perfectly improper dinner dishes you will want to have is croquettes. You can make them of any sort of meat, but they are particularly nice of veal. Learn to make good croquettes, Dolly. So few amateur cooks can do it, and it is the easiest thing in the world to do if only you will remember a few simple things." "I'll write the rule down; I love croquettes." "Chop your meat evenly, to begin with; then make the white sauce with double the usual quantity of flour. Instead of using one cup of milk, one tablespoonful of butter, and one of flour, you must take two of flour; that is the first thing to emphasize. You mix this with the meat and seasoning and cook it till it is a smooth paste; spread it out thickly in a platter and let it get perfectly cold before you take another step. I leave mine an hour, at the very least. Then cut it up into small pieces and roll them under your hand and square the ends; dip each one in finely sifted bread crumbs--have them well sifted, Dolly. Next dip in half-beaten egg yolk, then in crumbs again, and then dry them thoroughly before you go any farther. I usually make the paste after breakfast and set it away, bread the croquettes after lunch and set them away again. Then just before dinner I fry them, two at a time, in the wire basket in deep fat. I keep them in only enough to brown the crumbs; then I put them in the oven on paper to drain, leaving the door open. That way you make delicious croquettes, pale golden brown outside and creamy inside and with a soup--" "A good thick purée," interrupted Dolly. "Yes, and vegetables, you will have a substantial meal. "Now for pork. I do hope you are going to see that you get that from a reliable man, and have it once in awhile, especially in winter, for it is to my mind neither indigestible nor unwholesome for a change, and it is such an inexpensive meat that it saves you ever so much. You can see for yourself that two pork chops, with all the other things you are to have for dinner, will be plenty of meat for two people, and so cheap! Pork tenderloins I think are the greatest economy. Try getting two of them and opening them lengthwise, filling them with bread-crumb stuffing, and roasting them with nice brown gravy; you will be perfectly surprised to see how good they are. There will be enough meat left over for a second dinner, either croquettes or scallop or something else. And there is this other way of cooking them: tell the butcher to French them for you; that is, to cut them into rounds and pound each one out into a little cake. Cook these in the frying-pan till they are a pale brown; arrange them on a hot platter, and put an edge of mashed potato around. One good-sized tenderloin will make a dinner. "As to mutton, you can get what are called steaks of that; really they are chops from the top of the leg, round, with a bone in the middle. Those you can simmer a little, as they are inclined to be tough, and then fry them; or broil them and have peas with them. And there is mutton stew, and scrag of mutton--a part of the neck,--and minced mutton made up into collops with Worcestershire sauce, and mutton stewed with barley into a thick Scotch broth and served like a stew; all those are cheap. As to roasts, once in a long time you can get a small leg of mutton and parboil it, to save roasting it all the time in the oven, and so shrinking it more or less. Brown it at the last, however, and serve it with peas and mint jelly. For the second dinner there will be plenty to slice with the gravy, and enough still to offer again, perhaps disguised as a curry. Of course the stock in which the meat was boiled must make a soup. Tomatoes would go well with mutton, and after the bone was free, that could go in bean soup. As to lamb, I spoke of having stew of that, the cheap parts such as the neck, of course; and occasionally the forequarter for parties. We will experiment with that later on, so I am going to skip it now." "Yes, do; I want to talk about chicken. Are we never, never to have that? I think you are dreadfully severe." Mary smiled. "Well, as a concession, I will say that you can have it once in a long, long time, provided you conscientiously make up beforehand for the extravagance by going in for a regular diet of cheap things. When you do indulge, buy a large fowl, because that goes farther for the price. Stew it till it is tender, and serve it in sections. Cut the breast in four pieces, and lay two away; cut the second joints lengthwise, take out the bone and lay half the meat away with the breast. Cook some boiled rice, to put around your platter; have plenty of gravy, and the first four pieces will do very well for two people. For the second dinner, brown the corresponding four pieces, and serve these with sweet potatoes. The third night, open the drumsticks, take out the bones, fill the centres with stuffing, and brown these. Serve them on toast, like birds; you might well pretend that is what they are, too. You will still have the bits on the wings, neck and back for a nice luncheon dish or for croquettes; and the liver, gizzard, and heart should go into an omelette. After all, a fowl is not too expensive for two people provided they will make three meals of it; not too expensive for an occasional change, that is. It would be too much for daily consumption." "It would do provided the fowl was not too tough," corrected Dolly. "It is tolerably sure to be tough, but long cooking corrects that. Try this sometimes: instead of simmering it, cut it up and fry each piece a little; as you do so, put them in a kettle and add a very little water. When all are in see that the water just covers them; put a cover on and put this away in the tireless stove, or simmer it very slowly on the back of the range for four or five hours. It will come out brown and tender." "And put all left-over gravy and bones in the stock pot," Dolly muttered to herself as she wrote this down. "Now, before I forget it, tell me why the drumsticks are to be served 'on toast?' I see I have that expression down over and over. Are you so awfully fond of toast as all that?" "Toast, my dear child, is the way of making a small dish larger. When things are scanty it conceals the fact as nothing else does. Don't you know how often the cook-books say, 'serve with sippets of toast?'" "Now you mention it, I do seem to recall the phrase, though I thought it said 'snippets' of toast. I supposed they were a sort of garnish, like parsley." "They are a garnish, but at the same time they are one of the small economies of cooking. They get rid of bits of bread, and at the same time give an air to a dish while they help eke it out. "And now for the left-overs of meat. I have spoken of some of those as we have gone along, but there are heaps and heaps more. If you have a good deal of meat left over you can have English rissoles, for one thing; generally you make them out of beef, but not necessarily. You chop the meat, mix it with gravy and a raw egg to bind it, add a few crumbs and some seasoning, and roll the whole into balls. Dip each one in flour and fry it in a wire basket. Beef olives are thin slices of beef with a spoonful of crumbs put on each slice, and these rolled over once and pinned in place with a tiny wooden skewer--in other words, a wooden toothpick. Any other meat can be used in the same way. Mutton can be served a la marquise; that is, mince it, mix it with boiled rice and curry-powder and a tiny bit of onion, and a raw egg to bind it all; make into balls and fry them. Sliced mutton is nice dipped in French dressing and broiled. Cottage loaf is good, especially for an extra busy day. For that, line a dish with mashed potato, put the minced and seasoned meat in the centre and cover with more potato; bake this and turn out in a mould. Tomato sauce goes well with this dish by way of gravy. Baked hash is just minced meat mixed with gravy, pressed into a mould and baked in the oven till it will turn out. "When you have only a little meat left over and can make none of these dishes, try soufflé; I have never found anything so good to help out. You chop the meat till you have a cupful; or, if there is less, measure everything else in the same proportion. With a cupful take as much white sauce, a little minced onion and parsley, salt and pepper, and put it all on the fire with two beaten egg yolks. Cook this three minutes; take it off and cool it, and fold in the stiffly beaten whites. Put it in a buttered baking-dish and bake it half an hour and serve at once while it is nice and puffy. "Besides this have croquettes, and if you are short of meat for those, put in a little boiled rice. And when your meat gives out altogether, try this cheap and very nice Mexican dish: put in a saucepan a quarter of a pound of dried beef cut up rather small, with a cup of tomato and a quarter of a cup of rice, a little onion and seasoning; cook till the rice is soft. The rest of the beef in the box, if you buy it that way, you can broil; it is like delicate ham. "I should think all these things ought to make it easy for you to at least begin to manage; afterwards you can go on and have anything more you can find to make that is good and cheap." "I think somebody once told me that twice-cooked food was not wholesome; do you really believe it is a good idea to have warmed-over things for dinners?" "Think of the French once more! They have the greatest number of made dishes in the world and they never have dyspepsia. And then you are to have warmed-over things only every other night, at the worst, and not always then, by any means, and I am sure you will thrive on them." "One thing more; do you believe it pays to spend so much time and thought and all that on doing over things? Don't you think you might as well buy fresh ones as to put so much strength in these?" "My dear girl, if you are going to save your money you must expend your time and ingenuity in doing so. I don't believe in wasting strength, but I do believe in using it wisely in order to save buying unnecessarily. But you will learn that as you go on. Now do you think I have told you enough about meat to enable you to keep the wolf from the door?" "I do, indeed; I only hope Fred will consent to eat these things. If he finds out he is dining on left-overs and dried beef and scrags of mutton, I am afraid he will think me a pretty poor sort of housekeeper." "Do you suppose any mere man is going to know that he is eating cheap meat unless you actually tell him so in plain words? Not at all; he will eat all these delicacies and declare that they are far better than roasts of beef and spring lamb, and wonder how you can possibly afford to have such good things on your little housekeeping income. You will simply be covered with glory, and he will never know how you are deceiving him for his own good." "I think it is going to be dreadfully trying to live on an allowance, anyway. It will be just like being shipwrecked on a raft, and having exactly so much hardtack and so many ounces of water doled out to you each day. If you eat any of your to-morrow's provisions you won't be alive when a ship sights you at last. In other words, you will never get your salary raised if you don't live within what you have now." "You won't deserve to have it raised if you can't live within what you have now; so much is sure. But you won't have any trouble. Remember to keep within your week's allowance, not your daily one; there's comfort in that for you. You can see that one day you may buy two days' food at once, and so spend part or all of the dollar that properly belongs to to-morrow; but the end of the week straightens that out comfortably, and if that account comes out all right you cannot run over the whole." "I really believe we had better be vegetarians and live on pea soup and lentils and peanuts and such things. Being both cheap and filling, what more could one ask?" "Well, vegetarians have taught us all a great deal. I think, however, that men who have been brought up to have meat at least once a day do not take kindly to a diet which cuts it out altogether. But I am sure they are far better off without too much meat, and if they can be made to think they are getting as much as usual when really they are getting only half as much, that is a distinct gain. Always remember what I told you, that they do not inquire too closely exactly what they are getting to eat if only it is good; that is something to count among your mercies." "Have you any idea what you spend for meat a day?" "Yes; we have it for dinner only, and, as I explained, I buy enough one day for at least two dinners. Dividing the two or possibly three pounds up in that way, of course it makes the daily total absurdly small; I suppose it averages only about twenty cents,--probably less." "That does seem impossible, except as I review the baked hash and other dinner meats you mentioned. And with this enormous expense you pay for vegetables, milk, eggs, butter, and all the rest, and yet put pennies in the kitchen bank?" "Of course. I buy meat one day, vegetables the next, flour the third, and so on; that is the explanation." "Well, I see that it is not quite as impossible as one would think at first sight, anyway." "You are only in the first stages of housekeeping yet, so wait awhile, my dear, before you make up your mind one way or the other. Now get your hat and we will go down-town and buy the dinner for to-night,--pot-roast, I think, for one thing." "Pot-roast to-night; to-morrow the remains of yesterday's mutton; the next day the beef again,--in soufflé, possibly, provided Dick comes home to-night with a good appetite, in which case little will be left." "Don't forget the soup; we have a vegetable one to-night." "Then there may possibly be enough beef left for rissoles next time." "Good girl," said Mary, approvingly, "you are learning, and deserve a reward, and, as George Eliot says 'the reward for work well done is the ability to do more work,' we will pick out a particularly difficult lesson on something for to-morrow," and she laughed over the ungrateful face Dolly made as she went for her marketing hat. CHAPTER V Vegetables, Salads, Desserts "After soup and meat I suppose we have dessert," said Dolly, as she hung up her dish-washing apron. "No, indeed; after soup we have vegetables with the meat, and sometimes salad next, before we come to the dessert. I think those things are difficult to manage, too, especially the vegetables; so sharpen up your wits and let us finish up dinners as soon as possible. I seem to see so much ahead all the time that I am in a constant hurry; there are breakfasts and luncheons, preserves, and entertaining, not to mention about forty more things, each one more interesting than the last. So hurry!" "Begin," said Dolly, finding her pencil; "I'm all attention." "Suppose we take up the subject of potatoes, then, because those come oftenest on the table. Potatoes are one of the extravagances of the housekeeper, strange as it may seem at first sight. To have them twice a day, to peel them carelessly and throw away about a quarter of each potato, and to buy them by the small basketful in the first place, are all distinctly wasteful. If you live where you can do it, Dolly, always buy them in good measure, a half-barrel at a time, let us say, when you find they are rather cheap, as they are in the fall; then toward the end of winter, when they grow dearer all the time, do not have them right along. I would not have them for luncheon at all, if I were you; I never have them then; and at night have boiled rice twice a week with the meat, choosing the time by the kind you have, for some things are better with rice than others." "Chicken goes well with it." "Yes, and lamb stew, and in general meats with gravy. Then once a week have macaroni in place of potatoes, and vary the way you cook it; at one time have cheese and the next time tomatoes. You can put in about a quarter of a can of those, and use the rest in other ways; perhaps put a second quarter of the can into a beef stew and still have a half-can for one night's vegetable. Then remember when you are cooking potatoes that it is a time-saving plan to boil enough for two meals, or even more. You can mash the first supply, because they must be freshly cooked for that; but make more than you need, and the second time you can make potato-cakes of the left-overs of those; the third time you can cream what are still plain boiled. By the way, sometimes cut or chop these potatoes quite fine, and after creaming them put crumbs on top and bake them; that is a good change. Of course you can scallop the second supply, too, or chop and brown them, or serve in any one of a dozen ways; look those things all up, so you will not get into a rut. So many women seem to know only two ways of cooking potatoes, for they always serve them either boiled or mashed. And, Dolly, when you have a maid to peel your potatoes for you, do try and teach her to cut the peel thin; she will possess an inveterate determination to cut it thick, and it will probably be a lifelong battle to teach her to do your way, but your duty will be to persevere just the same. If she will not learn, at least you can have her boil the potatoes whole first and scrape off the peel afterwards; that will save them in spite of her. "As to the other vegetables, I think we ought to add another dinner rule to those I laid down when we were on that subject, and that is this: Buy only the vegetables that are in season. You know that all winter long city people can have spinach and string-beans and eggplant and such things, because they come from the South, and also because many of them can be kept in cold storage,--eggplant for one. But these are always expensive. You must resolutely turn your back on them when you market; you cannot have them at all." "We have to have canned things, I suppose," said Dolly, writing down the statement immediately, with conscious pride in her knowledge. "Canned! Not at all. Canned vegetables are far too costly for you; like everything else, they have risen in price. You must use them very carefully indeed, and for every-day use you must depend on old-fashioned winter things, parsnips and turnips and beets and onions; really, if you cook them in nice new ways they are very good, too, and you will not mind at all." "I don't believe there are any new ways." "Indeed there are; I can't stop to tell you many of them, but here are just a few ideas. Cook parsnips a long time, season and slice them, and put them in the double boiler with a little butter and let them smother; brown them a little at the end in the frying-pan, and you will find them really delicious. Or, cook them soft, add salt and pepper, and make them into little cakes and fry them brown. Never boil, slice and fry them, as we once did; they are frightfully indigestible so. "Turnips you can steam, dice and cream alone, or better, mix them with a few peas and diced carrots and serve them around meat. You can get a pint or so of dried peas and soak them up as you need them, to avoid opening a can each time. "A delightful company way of serving turnips is this: boil or steam them whole and scrape them; scoop out the tops till you have a little white cup of each one, and cut a slice from the bottom, to make it stand evenly; put butter, salt, and pepper in each and fill with drained and seasoned canned peas. You can't think how pretty they are; you can have those with mutton or lamb. The inside bits you mix with the carrots the next night, as I told you. "Speaking of carrots, they are considered one of the most wholesome of vegetables, because they are full of iron; so have them often. Just boil them, cut them up and cream them, or drain them dry and put a little butter on them if you are short of milk; they are especially good with Hamburg steak or beef in any shape. "Beets you boil, scrape and dice and put in a very little white sauce; any left over make a good milk soup the second night. Or, for company you fix them exactly as you did the turnips; make them into cups and fill them with peas. I am not sure which is the prettier dish. "Onions you have once in awhile for a change; they are certainly good for you, and they need not be odoriferous. Cut them up and simmer them in just enough water to cover them, adding a bit of soda. Drain them,--and, by the way, do not 'throw away the water,' as cook-books say, but save it for soup; put the onions in a baking-dish with white sauce and crumbs and bake them. I think with a dinner ending with black coffee no one will suspect you of having eaten them. If ever you find any especially large onions in market, or can pick out several from the quart of the ordinary kind, boil these whole, and when they are soft take out the middle part and fill them with bread crumbs and bake them, basting them occasionally. "Salsify or oyster-plant is really an extremely good vegetable if only it is well cooked, which it isn't, as a general thing. Try this way: simmer it till it is very tender indeed; take it up and drain it and scrape it well. Then cut off the little end and also the top, so that what is left is like a croquette in shape; of course the rest can go in soup, so it will not be lost. Dip each piece in crumbs, then in egg, then in crumbs, exactly as you do croquettes, and let them dry; fry in deep fat in a wire basket, and you will be astonished to see what a nice new dish you have. "As to cabbage, there you have a real treasure. If every woman could only cook it in the hygienic way she would find she had one of the greatest helps in winter. It is so cheap, so good, and so easily digested when it is right that it is a pity every one does not know how to do it. You cut the cabbage up in quarters and take out the core; the four pieces you put in a pot of hard-boiling water, dropping in one at a time gently, so as not to stop the boiling. Then put in a small plate or anything to keep it under water, a piece of soda as large as the end of your little finger, and some salt, and boil as hard as you can for twenty-five minutes, being careful to keep the pot uncovered." "Think of the horrid odor, Mary! It would just fill the house." "That is exactly what it would not do, my dear. If you cover the pot, the cabbage will make itself known at once, but if you boil it hard and keep it uncovered, it will not; if you don't believe me, try for yourself. At the end of the time take it up and press the water out in the colander and cut it up. Put it in a hot dish and cover with white sauce; and then bless your kind sister who taught you how to make one of the best things you ever ate. "Now the canned things come next. There, as I said, you must economize, and the best way to do that aside from buying few of them, is to always make two meals of each canful. That is not difficult to do with a small family. For instance, when you have tomatoes, serve half stewed down with bits of toast in them; the next time scallop what is left with crumbs, to help out. Canned corn you also divide, having two-thirds as it is, drained and freshly creamed, of course, with lots of seasoning; and the next night you have the left-over third in corn fritters. By the way, Dolly, try the grated corn; it is better than the other kind, and you can have another change by sometimes serving the first part in a baked corn custard. If you use the ordinary kind, you will also make one can go farther by adding some beans and serving it as succotash. "Canned peas are one of the most useful things for an emergency, for they can be combined with so many other things; with croquettes they are delicious, and with sliced meat. Just reheat the meat and have a circle of creamed peas around it on the platter. And with salmon, too, they are invaluable. However, be careful in buying them, for they are not cheap, and remember to buy small American peas, not French ones, even for company. Canned string-beans are good for some things, but you do not need them as a vegetable; I'll come to those later on. Asparagus is out of court entirely, for it's too expensive for us. "As to dried things, by all means invest in dried beans of all kinds; most of them you will use for soups, but Lima beans are excellent as a vegetable. Soak them with a bit of soda, to bring back their color, and then season well. I believe always in adding a bit of onion to the water I soak them in, for it brings out the flavor; and then add white sauce or butter, as usual. I suppose few people ever bake Lima beans, but they are very good, especially for a change. In winter, Dolly, have plenty of baked beans for luncheon, the ordinary kind and the Limas, and once in awhile pretend to live in Boston and have a big dish of nice crisply browned beans, with a bit of pork in them, for Saturday night's dinner, in place of meat." "All right, I will. But if you have come to a stopping-place, may I speak? Tell me this: are we never to have any green things, celery or lettuce, for instance?" "Celery you must watch for, and when you find it is cheap, as sometimes you may,--for small bunches often look rusty and go for a little when they are still useful,--then buy some. Open it and take out the best parts for dinner as they are; scrape the outside pieces and cut them up; stew them and bake in a white sauce. You can put a little grated cheese over the top with the crumbs if you choose; it makes a good dish that way. And as to lettuce, that turns me to salads. "You know how strongly I believe in having a nice fresh green salad, with a light dressing of oil, for dinner every single day; it is a real hardship that people who must live on a little cannot have it right along, but they cannot. Once in awhile in winter you will find what grocers call 'seconds' in market; that is, lettuce which has had its outer leaves pulled off because they are withered. Those little round heads sell for a small sum, often five cents or less; one of them is plenty for two people, so buy whenever you can. You can omit the soup that night; begin with a heavy meat, such as pot-roast or corned beef, have the salad next, and then dessert. Or, here is another way I like still better: have the soup and meat and vegetables as usual, with the salad next, served with crackers and cheese, and have no dessert at all, simply coffee last. We often do that way. "Besides lettuce, however, you can frequently find watercress in market for five cents a head, and often chicory; both those are good for dinner salads. And shredded cabbage mixed with nuts is good, and of course celery. As to the oil, there is an economy you must practise. Never buy bottled oil; it is frightfully dear and too often it is not fresh. Besides, the so-called quart bottles hold only a pint by actual measurement. Always go to an Italian grocery and get the oil that comes in tins, at about sixty cents a real quart; that is pure and fresh and does not turn rancid, no matter how long you keep it, because it is not exposed to the light. One tin will last a long time, so it is not expensive. Anyway, you buy that out of the box on the mantel, as it is a staple." "So we can have only plain salads, and those occasionally," mourned Dolly. "And I simply dote on grapefruit salad for dinner." "Watch your market, then. Once in awhile you can buy a grapefruit for about seven cents; get it by all means, and a little head of lettuce, and have it; only remember to make up for your extravagance by having a cheap meat twice over. And sometimes you can have orange salad in the same way; get one or two oranges, cut them in thick slices, and serve with French dressing. You don't need lettuce for that." "Good! That's an idea that suits me, and I will cheerfully sacrifice dessert to have either kind. Is that the end of salads?" "Not quite. You can have canned string-beans sometimes, very cold, with French dressing, either as they are or on lettuce. And of course escarole and romaine and anything else you find that is cheap; sometimes in a city market one of them will be. And in the spring you can have nice little dandelion leaves and spinach and garden lettuce, and such things. And in summer--in summer, Dolly, you can simply revel in salads. Then I should dispense with soup for dinner and have one every single day; sometimes twice a day. There's nothing more wholesome in the whole range of eatables, and nothing which requires so little preparation. There are a thousand things to have in summer; study them up by all means." "I suppose you do not have salads with mayonnaise for dinner, or you would speak of salmon and chicken salad and all those things." "No, those are for luncheon and we will take them up then. I think that is the end of the dinner salads." "Now for desserts," said Dolly, cheerfully. "Those are the best of all. I really and truly know how to make some of those, too. You remember, Mary, I began to take cooking lessons once, and got in three, all on desserts, and then I went off visiting and never finished the course. But I did learn how to make bomb glacé, and marrons with whipped cream, and a perfectly delicious sort of iced pudding that I know Fred will just love, if only I have not forgotten all about them!" "Well, suppose we begin with some of the plainer things," laughed her sister; "rice pudding for one." "Oh, I forgot," Dolly groaned. "Yes, I suppose we must have rice pudding and bread pudding and corn-starch pudding and tapioca pudding in a pleasing round, and when we have completed the circle we begin and have them all over again. I hate them all!" "You are tolerably certain to have them, at one time or another, but I would not have them in rotation, and I would dress them up so as to change them whenever I could. But before we go into details, let me tell you one important thing: that is, that in making desserts you must be extra careful, for most of them take eggs and butter and sugar and possibly a good many other things that cost money, especially in winter time. You must have simple desserts, made from apples when they are cheap, and rice, and as you suggest, tapioca and corn-starch at times. In summer, of course, you can have fruit, and if you live in the country there are lots of good things to make out of milk and cream, especially cream. But in town, be on your guard. Have the plain things, but disguise them so they will seem new. "Bread pudding can be varied in ever so many ways. One day you can put raisins in; another you can put in home-made orange peel or orange marmalade; still another, put dates in it or chocolate. A little something different is very nice, and a man will never know that, after all, he is eating bread pudding each time. "So with corn-starch pudding; you can have infinite variety there. Always make it soft, never stiff, Dolly, look out for that; and one day put in a little chocolate, and another a few chopped nuts with a dash of almond flavoring, and a third mix the milk with as much coffee; or add orange juice or lemon. Always change the flavor, and you will not tire of the basis. I find the best way to serve those things is in glasses, too, not on plates; they go a great deal farther, for one ordinary portion will serve two people easily. Then, too, a plain cold pudding seems nicer and more appetizing served in little glasses or glass cups, so it pays. "Tapioca is good for a cold night's dinner. Try the instantaneous kind, and you will find it turns out a sort of hot jelly, and very good. In that you can have clear coffee once, and apples or oranges at other times, and any sort of canned fruits you have left over; and as it takes no eggs and no butter, just like corn-starch pudding, it is particularly cheap. "As to rice pudding, cook one tablespoonful of rice in one pint of milk with one tablespoonful of sugar; put it in a baking-dish and put it in a moderate oven in the morning for an hour or more, and as a crust forms on top, turn it underneath and the bottom part up, and repeat till the whole is soft and creamy and pale brown; then let the top brown. Put in raisins or chopped dates, and eat it very cold, and you will think you have found something deserving a fancy French name, it is so good, and different from plain rice pudding as one usually gets it. Orange marmalade, too, is very nice on cold rice pudding. "When apples are cheap try apple porcupine. Peel and core and bake the apples, and when they are cold stick them full of strips of blanched almonds; five cents' worth will be enough for six apples. If you serve them covered with a nice glaze of sugar and water syrup made by basting them as they cook, you will not need cream with them, though it is nice, too. "Junket takes only milk and sugar, but you must dress it up well when you have it. I mean if you have one little pot of preserved ginger in your closet for use at such times, put the junket in glasses to set, and serve with the ginger cut in little cubes on top and a bit of juice with it. One pot of ginger costs only fifteen cents and keeps forever. So I would get it occasionally; or, make some for yourself from the root, in the fall. "As to pies, in winter I have them rather often, but I make them as the English do, in a baking-dish with an upper crust only. I take a small can of fruit which I have put up on purpose, perhaps blueberries or cherries or plums, and fill the dish; then I add sugar, and a sprinkling of flour, put on the crust and bake it, and serve it almost or quite cold. That is a wholesome dessert and one a man is certain to approve of. Apple tart is very good, too, and of course peach or apricot tart are best of all, if you can get these fruits cheaply, as you sometimes can in September. "Gelatine things are economical, because with them you do not need butter or eggs. Any sort of cooked fruit, such as prunes or canned fruits, needs only to be set with gelatine in a pretty mould and served with the fruit juice, or cream if you have it. In a city you can't have it often, but luckily people who own cows may; I only hope they appreciate their blessings as they should. "Then try French pancakes; sometimes you will have griddle cakes for breakfast. Save a little batter and for dinner make four cakes for two people, because two will be called for apiece. While they are hot spread them with jam or jelly, roll them up and cover thickly with mixed sugar and cinnamon. "Shortcakes in summer are an unfailing delight; have them with strawberries and raspberries and peaches. In winter you can make a rather thin layer of shortcake, split it open while it is warm, spread it with a little butter and sugar, and put jam inside or rich preserves and serve a little boiled custard with it. All these things, you see, take only a short time to make, as well as few costly ingredients. I don't think it good policy for people who are trying to economize to put much time or money on desserts. Indeed, if I could I believe I would always have fruit; but in town it is too expensive, except occasionally. Sometimes I do have baked bananas; those are cheap, certainly, and good, too; and when I find some good and cheap oranges I have two for dessert and possibly save a little elsewhere. One orange sliced with two bananas goes a long way, too." "And no ices or ice-creams, Mary! Are we never to have those?" "Of course--I forgot them. In winter I put out a small pail of water at night and freeze it; the next day I make an ice or sherbet from some simple thing, such as part of a can of pineapple, or a lemon or orange, and freeze it. This costs almost nothing at all, especially as I save the salt and dry it for next time. For creams I get the ice in the same way when I can, and either make a mousse and put it in the fireless stove, or make a cheap boiled custard and freeze that, adding a few dried and rolled macaroons to enrich it, or even a few dried crumbs of Boston brown-bread, which, strange to say, look and taste much the same. Of course you must not deliberately buy ingredients for ice-cream except for company, but an ice you can have whenever you choose. Then in summer, if you can get ice cheaply, you can have fruits made into sherbet or frozen as they are. I think frozen peaches are perfectly delicious." "So they are, and three peaches with sugar enough to sweeten them ought not to cost much, surely, nor would frozen watermelon." "Speaking of that, reminds me of something I had last summer which was cheap and good, which you might put down. I had some watermelon on hand which had lost its freshness; indeed, it was not fit to put on the table as it was, but my conscience would not let me throw it away. I just chopped it up, sweetened it with a little sugar and water syrup, flavored it with a dash of cooking-sherry, and froze it, and it came out one of the best sherbets I ever ate in my life." "It does sound good. I'll write that down; and we can have lots of melons for dessert in the autumn, just as they are." "Yes, indeed; have all the fruit you can when it is cheap. You can serve it in so many ways that you can never tire of it. That suggests something else, too,--nuts. You have no idea, Dolly, how nuts help out in winter. When you have no time to make dessert, or nothing in the house to make it of, try serving nuts and a few raisins with the coffee for a final course, and you will be surprised to see the rapture which Fred will show. Men always like nuts, and if you are careful not to have them after a heavy dinner of corned beef or such things, they are not unwholesome. Of course you must not have many; just a few with the black coffee. Keep them for emergencies, too, and do not have them too often, or they may pall, which would be a pity, for a dessert of nuts, raisins, and coffee will often cover a multitude of deficiencies in the dinner." "Good; and I must put down not to have anything made with eggs or butter or cream, so I won't forget your words of wisdom about those." "Don't put down a 'never,' only a 'seldom,' then. I do have things made with whipped cream sometimes, for a bottle holding a quarter of a pint costs ten or twelve cents, and judiciously used makes two desserts, in part at least, so once in awhile I indulge in it. Half a box of red raspberries, served in two glasses, with a big spoonful of whipped cream on top of each, is ever so good. And just a little cream on a small open shell of pie-crust filled with preserved fruit, makes it what the late Delia used to call 'a stylish dish.' No, don't entirely bar out all expensive ingredients, Dolly; sometimes you can have some of them in homoeopathic quantities. A few lady-fingers, split in halves and cut across, laid in two glasses with a spoonful of flavored cream on top, make a good dessert, especially if there is a bit of jam tucked underneath the cream. And after all, the lady-fingers cost only two cents and the cream five or six,--so you see." "I see," said Dolly. "And eggs, now; may I ever make desserts with them?" "Certainly, in the spring you can have them in a custard often; and a little sweet omelette made with jam is a delightful finish to a dinner, and it takes only two eggs to make it." "Then how am I to know what to do? No, don't tell me, for I know myself. I use my common sense." "Exactly. Keep your eyes and ears open when you go to market, and buy things in season and cheaply, and have whatever you can afford. It would be too ridiculous to have rice puddings when strawberries were cheaper, or corn-starch, when you could have sherbet or some other delicacy. Just 'use your common sense,' and you will be safe. And this finishes Dinners, at last, and with a good motto for your book to head the chapter as well as to close it." CHAPTER VI Breakfast, Luncheon, Supper--Odds and Ends "To-day we will begin on the smaller meals," said Mrs. Thorne, one morning. "Those seem trifles light as air after the heavy work we have put on dinners, and as the meals themselves are far from being substantial, we ought not to have to spend very much time or thought on any of them. "Breakfast comes first, of course. For that you will need to plan for plain, simple dishes only. It would be nice always to have a first course of fruit, but in winter that is really impossible on our tiny income, since it has grown so expensive. In summer I do try and have it, if not every day, at least every other day. Ordinarily I can find some sort of berries in market within my means; and if we lived in the country, Dolly, we could have something from our garden, surely. But in cold weather we either do without or have something twice a week only. Often I find bananas costing only a trifle, perhaps even ten cents a dozen at times, and then I get half a dozen; not more, because probably they are rather too ripe to keep long or they would not sell for the price. Oranges, too, sometimes come into market in quantities, and then small ones are cheap for a few days. In the autumn I have baked apples frequently. We could have dried fruits, prunes, and peaches, and so on, but neither Dick nor I care for those for breakfast, so I do not get them. But I do get figs, a half-pound at a time, and dates in the same quantity, and stew those and cut them up in a hot cereal; they are a great addition to it. And often we have neither fruit nor cereal, but instead a second course of hot dry toast and home-made orange marmalade. "The days we do not have fruit we often have cereal first; not always, mind, for we tire of it. Probably we have it three times a week. And here, Dolly, let me give you some advice: look out for the cost of cereals; there is one place where economy counts more than you would believe. Many of the cereals that come in boxes cost fifteen cents or more and do not last any time because they are loose and light; those are what I call extravagant breakfast foods. You must use the plainer things; old-fashioned oatmeal and cracked wheat, bought in bulk, and rice and corn-meal. They go twice, no, three times as far as the things you buy in packages. If you cook the oatmeal and wheat all night they will be really very good and far more wholesome and digestible than the same things bought in small amounts and cooked up in twenty minutes. Never fail to cook your cereals a long time, Dolly, no matter how 'instantaneous' they are said to be. As for the corn-meal, that you can have as a second course in fried mush, or you can make up a well salted mush with raisins in it." "What we had when we were children, plum porridge!" interrupted Dolly, smiling, "and didn't we love it!" Mary nodded, but went on without pausing. "The rice you can have boiled, with or without raisins in it, for one morning, and another you can have it in little brown cakes or croquettes; or you can make griddle-cakes out of what is left over." "Do you buy extra cream for these cereals?" "No, unfortunately we can't do that, though I wish we could. Here again is where I long to keep a cow. But as it is, I take off just a little of the very top of the milk for coffee and the next best I put on for the cereal." "And do you have muffins and cakes and those hot breads?" "I think I had better tell you in order just what we have, because you will understand it all better. I arrange breakfast this way: "First, if it is a day when we are to have fruit, a course of that; afterward a hot dish, a little bacon, an egg apiece, milk toast, or creamed codfish, or some simple thing warmed over that I have in the house; often in summer fried tomatoes on toast. And I have coffee and hot rolls or biscuits or muffins or toast, too. "That is one sort of breakfast. When we do not have fruit I have cereal, let us say; after that we do not care for anything hot and substantial, as when the first course was an orange, perhaps, so we have the coffee and muffins alone. Or, for a third breakfast, one for cold weather, we begin with a hot dish and coffee and have cakes afterward." "I am astonished to hear you speak of having eggs as though they were to be bought for nothing. I thought in town they cost too much to eat them up recklessly." "So they do, in winter; they are often four cents apiece. But you see then I do not use them in cooking, or only occasionally, so even at that price I can afford to have them for breakfast twice a week, and that is the extent of my recklessness." "But one apiece! My dear Mary, I am positively certain Fred will demand two eggs for his breakfast, if that is all he is to have." "Then you must scramble the one-apiece with milk and serve them on toast, and he will think he is having any number of them. Or, make a parsley omelette of two with a little milk; or have them hard-boiled, chopped, and creamed, on toast or in individual dishes, with crumbs on top; that is an easy way out of the difficulty. He can't count how many eggs there are on the table when they are served mixed up." "I only hope he won't ask, that's all. Now before you leave Breakfasts tell me whether you ever have waffles." "Yes, when I have time enough to make them. On Sundays, when Dick does not have to hurry away, we often have them, but not when I have to rush; then I have easy things." "And don't you have to rise with the lark to get a breakfast of two courses?" "No, indeed; I put on the things to heat, such as the cooked cereal out of the tireless stove; or I start the corn-meal mush in the kettle and put the muffins in the oven. While they are getting themselves ready I lay the table and make the coffee and put on the butter and set out the fruit, or whatever else I am to have. I pride myself on having everything ready in a very little while." "So breakfast is just fruit or cereal; muffins or toast; eggs or bacon or codfish, and coffee," said Dolly, as she wrote these down. "Not quite, for there are a number of small dishes I make out of scraps of this or that, but those will come later on. Many of them will be under luncheon dishes; that is, easy things to make up for any informal meal. But this will do for the present. Now we will begin on Luncheons." "I think those are so interesting, too; we can have all sorts of good things creamed and in croquettes and salads. Luncheon is such a dainty meal." "Unfortunately you cannot have exactly everything you can think of, for your luncheons must be made up of odds and ends, usually what is to be found in the refrigerator. Still I agree with you in thinking this an interesting meal, but partly, I am afraid, because I enjoy the fun of getting something out of nothing. You must remember that you cannot use up anything at noon that will do for dinner; the meat and vegetables left over from one night, you know--" "Yes, of course; you must use them up the next night. But if you cannot have those and cannot buy on purpose, what can you have?" "There is where the fun comes in; you must study up possible dishes made out of odds and ends. I am not going to try and make a full list for you, but just to begin on, I will give you a few things you can have: "Macaroni and cheese; cheese fondu; rarebit; milk toast; milk toast with grated cheese on it; French fried toast; vegetable croquettes; fish croquettes; creamed fish; baked potatoes cut in halves and the centres scooped out, mixed with creamed codfish and browned; sweet potatoes treated in the same way, omitting the fish; Spanish toast,--that is, thick tomato, green peppers, and onion, on toast; corn fritters; clam fritters; fruit fritters; creamed peas; croustades of bread filled with any sort of creamed meat, fish, or egg; green peppers filled with similar things; baked beans; fried eggplant; stuffed eggplant; all sorts of salads with mayonnaise; creamed celery, baked; cabbage and cheese baked; rice and tomatoes; rice croquettes; potato croquettes; eggs in every shape when they are cheap; all kinds of griddle-cakes and muffins. As a second course, if you want one: jam and thin crackers; or cookies, or gingerbread, or a bit of cake; left over preserves, or anything sweet that you have at hand; and of course tea or cocoa. You see how easy luncheons are, even if you can't have meat. Really the greatest help in learning to keep house is to understand how to have good luncheons at a small expense; when you know that, you know how to do both breakfast and dinner better." "Of course if I am all alone I can have a good luncheon with but little to eat, but you know what a way people in town have of dropping in at that time. Suppose you, for instance, should come in some fine day; I am sure there would not be enough for two people." "That is one of the places where I hope, my dear, your grandmother's 'faculty' will assert itself. Suppose I do come in, or even a more formidable person than I. If you were planning to have a cup of soup left over from the night before for a first course, thin it with a very little boiling water and a seasoning of kitchen bouquet if it is a stock soup, and add a little milk if it is a cream soup, and serve it in two half-filled cups instead of one full one. There will be enough that way without too much liquidating. If you were to have had a hot dish first, say a little baked corn, put in a beaten egg and a trifle of milk, and it will grow larger at once; or, if you planned to have one plate of string-bean salad, add a hard-boiled egg quartered to the quantity, and there will be enough for two. If you were to have had some little hot thing which you cannot add to, fry some potatoes to go with it, and add 'sippets of toast.' If there is nothing whatever to eat, make an omelette, or open one of the tins of tomatoes you keep for such an occasion and have Spanish toast, and then tea and crackers and cheese and jam; you see it is simple enough." Dolly groaned. "Yes, simple enough for you, my experienced sister, but most frightfully difficult for me." "Just in anticipation, Dolly. Really it is great fun to manage, and you will enter into the spirit of the thing when once you get to work. Now we will take Suppers next in order." "I thought you did not believe in suppers." "I do not, but I must take into consideration that you may have to live where it is customary to have them instead of dinners at night, and you must possibly conform; or, Fred's work may send him home at noon and again late in the evening; in that case you must also have them. Anyway, the subject is part of your education and you cannot be allowed to skip it. "You lay the table in the same way as for breakfast and luncheon, with doilies instead of a tablecloth; suppers are really the very same thing as luncheons, you have the same things to eat. You can have a first course of soup, if you like, served always in cups or bouillon bowls, not in soup plates; or, you can begin with a hot dish. In winter time you must have things of the same sort as I planned for luncheon; not meat, but baked corn, or minced clams, or milk toast, or bread croustades, or baked beans; with them go potatoes, possibly, sometimes, or merely tea or coffee, with hot biscuits or muffins. Then comes a salad, if you choose. In summer I have the main dish for either luncheon or supper of salad, and you can serve mayonnaise or French dressing on them. Here a meat or fish salad comes in if you can afford it; chicken or cold salmon with mayonnaise, or lobster, or whatever you can have easily. Afterward comes the sweet course; or you can omit the salad, as you did the soup, and have the supper consist of the main dish first, with tea or coffee, and the sweet course next and last. It depends on circumstances what you will decide to do. Of course with a heavy dinner in the middle of the day you would have a lighter supper at night; but if you wanted to enlarge the meal for company, you do it by putting on the extra courses. "For the sweet course you usually have preserves in winter and berries in summer, with cake or cookies or gingerbread. Or, you can have hot gingerbread and American or cream cheese, and no fruit; or you can have first one thing and then the other." "It seems to me you have a good deal of cheese in your suppers and luncheons. I thought it was considered indigestible." "Not at all, by those who understand how to use it. Most of the nations of the world live largely on it and have digestions of iron. Do not have it with meat, but in the place of meat, because it is so hearty. When you put it in a dish and cook it, always put in a tiny pinch of cayenne pepper and one of soda, that makes it perfectly wholesome. When once it is digested it is all solid nourishment, too, and for the money you get more than you can in any other way; so don't be afraid to use it. Cream cheese is always considered easily assimilated, and if you can get some one to make it fresh for you out of country milk you will find it a perfect standby." "You passed lightly over the subject of cake for supper; don't we have chocolate layer-cakes at all?" "Dolly, try hard to curb the natural propensity to make chocolate cake which lies in every woman's heart. All girls, I know, consider it the very staff of life, but it isn't; it is an expensive thing to make, and as few men care for it, it is largely wasted on them. Do not make much cake of any sort, and when you do, make up simple little things and have them fresh. Make cookies and gingerbread and drop-cakes and spice-cakes and peanut wafers and such things, and when you are tempted to indulge in a great layer-cake, count up first the ingredients, the butter and sugar and eggs and other things--and refrain." "I have already written down somewhere in my book, 'Beware of ingredients,'" said Dolly, meekly. "That is an excellent rule, too: 'Beware of ingredients.' Stick to it, my dear. Now, if you are sure you understand Suppers, we will go on." "I think I do. Have a hot dish in winter for a main course, and something nice and cold in its place in summer. Have coffee or tea and preserves or shortcake or gingerbread and such things afterward, usually. When you have company, begin with soup, then have the main course, then the salad, and last the sweet. It really seems exactly the same thing as a luncheon." "So it does, and it is, too. Now we come at last to my hobby; such an interesting hobby, too, Dolly; it is Scraps, or, Left-overs, if you like that better. And here you must study hard, for to my thinking you stand or fall as a housekeeper by your knowledge or ignorance of the subject. "Of course you know the saying that a French family could live on what an American family throws away. There is something in the saying, though I will not admit it to be entirely true; but it is a fact that a good cook seldom has anything to put in her garbage pail, and it really is horrifying to see what people, especially poor people, do throw out: half-loaves of bread, good-sized bits of vegetables, bones that would have made soup, and lots of other things. "To begin with bread, save all the odds and ends of that. Make crusts and hard ends into crumbs and sift them well; the half-slices make into bits of toast and use them at once, whenever you find them in the box, before they get very dry. No bit of bread should ever be wasted. "Then there is fat of all sorts; the grease on top of soups, drippings from meat, bacon fat, everything of that sort is to be saved. Put the strips of fat through the meat-chopper and then put all in a dish with water, cover tightly, and set in the oven and let it cook till the water is gone. Strain it through cheesecloth, put it in a covered pail, and you will always have enough for frying without buying lard. When you use part of it and it gets brown, do not pour it back on the white fat, but put it by itself, and when you have enough cook it up again with boiling water, strain it twice, and it will turn white and as good as before. "As to bits of meat, I have told you about those; use them up in soufflé or in hash, or any way you can. Some people insist that there are some things that one cannot properly use, such as an end of steak, but I have yet to find the bit of meat that is not good for something. The steak ends I pour boiling water over and scrape till the charred part disappears, and they make either hash of some sort or soufflé. If you cannot do any better, at least put the bits of meat into soup stock, and of course all the bones you have go with it. "As to bits of fish, those go into patties or croustades; the patties are really baking-powder biscuits. I just cut out the middle, without opening them, and there is a perfect shell. I put a little butter inside, heat it well, and fill it with creamed fish or anything else. The croustades are one of the most useful things of all for serving left-overs. To make those you take slices of bread three inches thick and cut them into rounds with a biscuit-cutter; on top you mark a smaller circle. Dip each one in milk; drop it into hot fat and let it turn golden brown; fill it with creamed chicken or meat or fish or peas. A platter of croustades is a really attractive dish and as good to eat as it is to look at. If ever I have a round loaf of bread that I can spare I make that into a large croustade, too, especially for company. I cut out the middle till it is a good-sized shell, butter the inside, and brown it in the oven, and then fill it with creamed salmon, or anything else. Creamed oysters are delicious in it. That does not properly come under left-overs, but as it belongs with croustades I put it there, anyway. "As to eggs, begin by saving all their shells and washing them; they do for clearing coffee. Of course you must not break a fresh egg for that. Then when you make mayonnaise out of the yolk of one, always make up a dish calling for one white, perhaps a little cake; or, whip it, sweeten with powdered sugar, mix with currant jelly, make it very cold, and serve it in two small glasses as currant fluff. It does for dessert after a heavy dinner. If you use the egg white first, do not let the yolk dry out, but stir it with a little cold water and you can keep it over a day or so till you need it; or make it up at once into mayonnaise, and do not put water in it. "Vegetables, as you know, I have already told you a good deal about. Peel the potatoes carefully. When you have only a little bit of carrot or turnip, mix this with cooked peas; or put all three together and cream them. Put a slice of beet in corned beef hash; a spoonful of peas goes into an omelette; a carrot can be diced and added to beef stew; celery tops go into soup; mixed vegetables are to be made up into vegetable croquettes; cooked potato makes potato soup, and so on. Never let so much as a single pea escape your watchful care. Even in slicing an onion, remember not to cut through the middle, but to begin at one end, to keep it fresh for next time, and so on till it gradually disappears. "Now, the worst of economies is yet to come, for to my mind utilizing bits of cold puddings and such things is most difficult. If you feel you must not eat up such left-overs at luncheon, and of course you ought to feel so, and yet there is not really enough to make a second dessert as it is, you have to face a problem at once. But here are a few things I have learned. "Suppose you have a very little rice pudding left; mix some jam with it, beat in it the yolk of one egg, pour it into two little moulds, and bake them in a pan of water. They will come out nice little shapes of fruity rice, quite different from the previous pudding. Corn-starch left-overs can be thickened by reheating and adding more corn-starch; when it is all smooth, pour this into a baking-powder can to harden, then turn it out, slice it, dip each piece in crumbs, egg, and crumbs again, and fry in deep fat; they grow soft in the middle and are very good indeed; the French call them fried cream. Treat bread pudding in the same way, and serve with a nice sauce. When you make gingerbread, put some raisins and spice into part and bake separately. When you want this half, steam it up and serve as a fruit pudding with a hot sauce. You can crumb up plain gingerbread that is stale, add a little molasses to keep it together, and raisins and spice, and steam it that way, too. It is surprisingly like a plum pudding. "A spoonful or two of boiled custard can be utilized as sauce for another pudding. Tapioca pudding can have canned fruit with plenty of juice put with it; it can be cooked over again and this time served cold, perhaps in a mould. In fact nearly everything but a small bit of pie can be made over to seem unlike itself. Pie, my dear, I really think you must eat for lunch, provided there is but one small piece." "Fred can have it for dinner," said Dolly, complacently. "All men love pie, and I can have coffee only, for once." "So you can; or, if you have saved all the bits of pie-crust, as, of course, you should have done, you can have a little tartlet in place of the pie. I always make up some tartlets, anyway, when I make crust, and when they are filled with peach jam with perhaps a dot of cream on top, they make an excellent dessert. This reminds me to say that a half-can of fruit or left-over cranberry sauce can be put into a pie-crust shell with strips of crust over the top; they make very good pies." "I should think you could use left-overs of canned fruit for pudding sauces." "Bright girl! So you can. Chop up the fruit and heat the whole together; it would be especially good on cottage pudding." "I hate cottage pudding; I shall never have it." "Oh, yes, you will; put grated chocolate in it and you won't know what it is. But don't divert my attention, for I am not done yet with left-overs. There is orange peel, for one thing. Keep all the orange skins you have and throw them into a crock of salt and water and let them stand till you have enough to make candying worth while. Then drain them and wash them well, and put them in cold water and bring to a boil; repeat this till the water is perfectly fresh. When the skins are transparent take them out, put two or three together and cut them in tiny little strips; cook these in thick sugar and water syrup, only enough to cover them, and dry in the oven with the door open. Sprinkle with granulated sugar, put them in a fruit-can with a cover, and they will keep for years, and be just the thing to put in fruit-cake or plain bread pudding or any such thing. Lemon peel and grapefruit peel are good, too, and quite as useful. "When you have a little syrup left after you have taken out spiced peaches or pears from a can, stew peeled and quartered apples gently in it and serve them without canning. They will be almost as good as the peaches were; and sometimes stew prunes a little, till you can slip the stone out, and put these in the syrup. You can't guess how good they are, and how they help out a plain meal." "And watermelon rind--don't you do something with that?" "Yes, make that up into sweet pickles, too." Dolly suddenly threw down her pencil and snatched off her apron. "Mary, there are the Cliffords coming around the corner. I know they are coming to lunch, too!" "Of course they are, and we have scarcely anything to give them. Let me see." The refrigerator yielded up some outer pieces of celery, a good-sized wedge of cheese, eggs, and milk. Before the door-bell had rung, Dolly was told to lay the table. After she had done that she was to come into the parlor and entertain the guests while her sister excused herself and transformed the cheese into a rarebit, and the celery, with hard-boiled eggs and mayonnaise, into salad. The meal was to conclude with thin crackers and jam and tea. "And plenty for them, too," said Dolly, ungraciously, as the footsteps sounded in the hall. "I did not want them to interrupt my lesson." "That was the end, anyway," said her sister, laughing; "and you can't convince me you are so interested as all that. Now I'll go to the door; be as pleasant as you know how, and we will surprise them with a good luncheon of transformed scraps in short order." CHAPTER VII The Emergency Closet--Winter Preserves--Cake "The lesson to-day begins with a story, a story with a moral, too," said Mrs. Thorne. "Once upon a time, when I was a young and inexperienced housekeeper, it began to snow early in the morning, before I had been out to market. It happened that everything in the house had given out at once, and I had a long list of things to get, but as I had a bad cold I did not wish to go out in the storm. I waited nearly all day for it to stop, as it was against my principles even then to telephone for anything, but at last, as it began to grow dark, I could not wait longer, and took my receiver to call up the grocery and meat market, only to find the wires were down. What to do I did not know. Even if I ventured out it was now too late to hope to have anything delivered before dinner-time, and I could not carry the food home in my arms and at the same time manage a dress and an umbrella. "Well, just as I was trying to make up my mind to go and borrow something of the neighbors whom I didn't know, which made things all the harder for me, a strange grocery boy came to my door by mistake, thinking it was the apartment above. I saw my chance, and poured out my tale of woe to him and begged him to help me. Of course I could not ask him to go to the meat market for me, but between us we planned a meal which we could get at the grocery, and I tipped him to go and get the things and bring them back at once, and I would pay for them on delivery. He said he had canned roast beef, for one thing, so we began with that. Then he was to bring canned string-beans, and some oranges for dessert, besides the staples I had to have. It was an expensive meal, I assure you, for roast beef is not cheap, even when it is tinned. I thought then I must have meat, at any price. I know better to-day, and could now plan a supper which would cost about a quarter of what that meal came to. However, as I said, I ordered the things, laid the table, put on the potatoes to boil, and the groceries came just before six o'clock. Ten minutes later Dick appeared, bringing with him two college friends who happened to be in town for the day, men I had never met, and for whom I certainly would have wished to have a good dinner! "There was nothing to be done but to make the best of things. We had a first course of the beef, heated in gravy, with potatoes and pickled pears. The string-beans I served up in a salad, though of course I wanted them with the meat; but I was determined to have three courses, somehow; I had no crackers or cheese to serve with it, either, and plain beans seemed very little. The dessert was oranges and coffee. How I wished I had anything else, even nuts, to help out, but there was nothing whatever. I simply lived from hand to mouth in those days and bought supplies enough for only one day at a time. Well, we tried to make up in conversation what we lacked in food, and I thought of what some novelist of New England life once suggested, that when the cake was heavy you should always turn the talk toward the sufferings of the Pilgrim Fathers. But I can tell you that experience taught me a lesson. Never again did I fail to have something to set out in an emergency, and now anybody may drop in, day or night, and I can furnish a really good meal; not an extravagant one, but one that I shall not be ashamed to offer." "That reminds me to tell you something. This morning, after you left the dining-room, I was telling Dick about the luncheon yesterday, and how you managed to get up such a good one for the Cliffords, and he said, 'Dolly, you and Mary are having far too easy a time of it. One of these days I am going to surprise you with a nice little dinner-party by bringing home two fellows I know.' His eyes twinkled as though he was planning a joke of some sort." "Yes, I know the kind of joke perfectly well; he often springs these surprises on me when he thinks he will catch me unprepared, but that only makes me more determined to have everything ready for such an event. Come now and see my emergency closet, and you will understand why Dick's little jokes do not alarm me." The closet was dark, but Mary lighted a gas-jet and showed rows of shelves stretching almost from the floor to the ceiling, with pots and jars and packages, fruit-cans and jelly-glasses and paper boxes. "Here in the middle part are my groceries," she began, pointing out some well-stocked shelves. "First come the tins of soup, only two, because they are of the best kind and expensive; but I have those on hand all the time, for they are very good, and such a comfort when you are in great need. Next are the tins of meat and fish; not roast beef now, but a can of tongue, two of chicken, and bacon, and several of salmon and sardines. Then come the vegetables, two of each kind, like the animals in the ark: grated corn, peas, string-beans, tomatoes, and mushrooms. Here are several kinds of crackers, to serve with fancy cheese, either with salad or for dessert, and the cheese as well, three pots, two small ones and one of larger size. And I have two cans of condensed milk, a jar of beef extract, and some nuts. Here are olives, too, and a pot of ginger, and some quickly made gelatine for jelly. All that last needs is to add hot water and pour it into a mould, and before you know it it is ready for use, and very pretty and good. You can imagine how, if we were actually without another thing in the house except what is here, with perhaps coffee and sugar and potatoes, we could have a good dinner. First soup; then hot tongue with a brown sauce, with potatoes and grated corn made into a custard; then a salad of string-beans, with crackers and cheese; then jelly, for dessert; and we could follow this up with a breakfast of bacon and a luncheon of creamed chicken, you see." "But, Mary, these things must have cost a great deal of money; dollars and dollars, I am sure. How did you ever get them?" "Most of them out of the tin bank on the kitchen mantel. When a day comes that I do not need to buy any meat and no staple is out, you see I have perhaps sixty cents over from my dollar; then I buy a can of vegetables, or a pot of cheese, or a can of tongue or soup, or whatever is out in the closet. I make it a rule not to use up what I have here without replacing it at the earliest possible moment; that prevents my getting out of everything before I realize it. Then when I am feeling very poor, and am in need of a vegetable, let us say, I just use one of my canned ones from here, and so tide over till the money is plenty again. Of course toward spring I let everything get low, for I like to put in fresh canned things once a year; then in the fall I stock up for the winter as I can." "It's a great idea," said Dolly, admiringly. "The first thing I do when I go to housekeeping will be to set up an emergency closet and keep it full all the time." "Not too full; that is extravagance; but get just a few very useful things and add to them as you can." "Tell me why, with all these things you did not fly to get them out when those people came in to lunch the other day. It would have been much less trouble, and we could have had a better luncheon; not that I cast aspersions on that one, either." "For two reasons: first, because I found on looking in the refrigerator that I could manage with what was there, and I do not take anything from my closet except in case of real need. And secondly, because the Cliffords have rather a habit of coming in to luncheon in that way, and once when I was showing them over the apartment they went through this closet, and I knew I would be found out if I served anything canned to them. And also, perhaps, to show you what could be done with odds and ends of food, because the lesson that very day had been on the subject." "Oh, I see; very good reasons, too. Now what is to be to-day's lesson? Or is this closet the lesson all by itself?" "Dear me, no; that is only the first half. Now look at my preserves on the other shelves. On the top one are my very best ones, peaches, rich cherries, strawberries, and such things. Those I use only when I have company; or, if I have a plain ice-cream, sometimes I put some around that to help out. I am careful in using them, because they are not cheap to make, by any means, when you have to buy the fruit. "Next below come my canned fruits, and those I use more freely; plums, you see, and red raspberries, and blueberries, and such things. Many of those I use in pies in winter, when I must economize on butter and eggs. They were not so costly as the preserves, for I bought them a few at a time and put them up as I could. "Below are all my spiced fruits, peaches, pears, melon rind, gooseberries, currants, plums, grapes, and various things. Those are great helps when one has a rather plain dinner. My jams and jellies come last, on these shelves, and here I have just the usual things, currant jelly and grape and crab-apple and so on. And on this last shelf of all are my winter preserves that I keep on making all the time." "Winter preserves! What in the world are they?" "I rather thought that would surprise you, but one of my pet economies is in making preserves and jellies all winter. See, here are six glasses of apple jelly I made up the day you lunched down-town. I found some cheap apples in market that morning and bought them, and then I cut them up without peeling them, stewed them in water enough to cover them, hung them up in a bag to drain, and when the juice was all out I boiled it fifteen minutes and put in the sugar and boiled it five more. Then I dropped in half a lemon for a moment to flavor it, and put it in glasses. It was firm in a short time. That explains my way of doing. I buy anything I find that is cheap and put up a glass of it one day and another glass of something else the next day, and so keep this shelf full all the time and save my summer fruit. Some of the jelly is spiced, too, for variety. I dropped a bag of whole cloves and cinnamon in while it cooked, and gave a distinctly new flavor to it. That goes well with meats; it's no trouble at all to make up a few glasses either way." "'No trouble,' is your daily phrase; you say it over and over, and I never cease to be astonished at it. Everything seems a trouble to me, and I am sure jelly-making the year round would be a dreadful trouble." "Not at all, if you took it as a matter of course and made nothing of it. I cook up my fruit in the morning while I am doing up my dishes, and then put it in a bag and hang it up and go away and forget it. After luncheon I find the juice is all out, because I have only a small amount of fruit, you see. I let that boil while I do the luncheon dishes, and put in the sugar, and it is done; I pour it into glasses and set it away to harden for one day, or for two if necessary, and then I just pour melted paraffin on top of it and put it in the closet. That is really no trouble, is it?" Mrs. Thorne asked, placidly. "Well, we won't discuss it now. Tell me instead whether you do up anything besides apples in winter?" "Yes, indeed, lots of things. For one, when early in the season I find a basket of winter pears, I get those and make up pear conserve. I peel and chop them, cook them with sugar, lemon, and ginger-root; four pounds of pear, a pound and a half of sugar, an eighth of a pound of cooked and finely chopped ginger-root, and a chopped lemon. Boil it down thick, and you will find it extremely good, especially with cream cheese, or in sandwiches for afternoon tea. If pears were expensive in the fall and I did not pickle any, I usually do some now. "Later on, carts full of small sour oranges come through the streets, and then I make orange marmalade; that helps out a breakfast nicely. And when, later still, the carts have the queer little whole figs covered with sugar, I preserve them. They are the best thing in ice-cream you ever ate, and also good just as preserves; and I make sweet pickles of them if I had no peach pickles in the fall." "How do you make those?" "Just by the one rule you always use: a quart of cider vinegar boiled down with three pounds of sugar and a handful of whole spices; that is a pretty large rule for just a few pickles, however, and you had better divide it." "And what comes next?" "Cranberry conserve, I think. You chop a quart of the berries, mix them with the pulp of two oranges and the grated peel, a cup of raisins, and two cups of sugar, and boil it all down till it is thick. That is a really choice thing to have with chicken or a good company roast. Then, too, I make a little mint jelly to go with lamb, also for company. I divide the apple jelly when I make that, and in part I put a bunch of bruised mint, or if I cannot get that in winter at the butcher's, I use dried mint. When it is done I strain it well and add a little green vegetable coloring, and it makes a lovely jelly. You know you can also make that with a basis of lemon jelly and use gelatine to set it with, if you want it at once." "Suppose in the autumn you find peaches and pears are expensive; do you go on and do them up regardless of price, or do you depend on these winter preserves?" "I certainly never do anything 'regardless of price.' I get around the difficulty some other way. If I cannot afford peaches and pears, I preserve some apples, for one thing, making them just as rich and transparent as I can, and they do to help out in the place of the better things. Then I always have a good deal of summer fruit, for some of that is bound to be cheap at one time or another, no matter what the season is. And I put up melon rind in the place of pickled peaches, and citron and crab-apples in the place of pears. So you see I have enough with the winter preserves, even when I have to do without the costly fruit." "It sounds as though you were supplying a boarding-school or a hotel with all these things, but I suppose you mean that I shall make only a little of each kind." "That is it, exactly; make these things up as you can, a glass or a can at a time. For instance, when you have cranberry sauce for dinner and have a cupful left over, boil that down the next day with an orange and some raisins and a little more sugar, and you will have two glasses of compote. So with the other things; do not take a whole rule at a time, but divide it and make up a small amount." "I am sure with a closet full of such goodies I shall be extravagant and use them all up as fast as I can; it will be such a temptation." "Then you must resist it. Have things only when you need them. Put on the jelly when the dinner seems just a little bit too plain, and if there is any over, do not feel bound to eat it up at luncheon the next day in order to 'save' it. That idea of saving is too absurd. But make it up into something useful for dessert; tartlets, perhaps." "And when do you have the preserves and canned fruit?" "Those are for Sunday night suppers and company luncheons and to put with too plain a pudding when somebody drops in at dinner-time. And when butter and eggs are beyond the dreams of avarice, I just fly to this closet for relief. I make deep tarts of cherries or plums or blueberries and put a crust on top only; they are about the best winter desserts that we ever have. And the bits of crust left over from them I make into small tartlets, to fill with jam or jelly and help out luncheons, or I cut the crust into strips and cover it with sugar and bake it in a very hot oven, so the sugar melts and turns to a brown caramel. Those go well with afternoon tea. Or, sometimes I cover the strips with a little white of egg and chopped nuts and put them in the oven to just brown. They are what our grandmothers called 'toothsome dainties.'" "Let's make pie to-day and try those; they sound perfectly delicious," begged Dolly. "Very well, we will. And, by the way, remember when you make cake to keep out just a little batter and thin it with water or milk and pour it on a buttered tin; bake it quickly, mark it off while warm into strips, cover with the egg and nuts as before, and brown it; that is just as nice as a more elaborate cake." "You said we were not to have cake." "No, I said not often, and no rich cake at all. But you can make cake once a week, for Sunday night, of course; and when you do, Dolly, try this: take out enough batter to put in two little patty pans. Bake those, and while they are fresh split them open on the side and take out part of the crumb; put in a spoonful of preserves or jam or half a peach and press the edge together so the opening does not show. Then cover the cakes with plain icing made by mixing a little water or milk with confectioner's sugar; when this is firm, serve the cakes for a dessert. If you have a tiny bit of whipped cream to put with each cake, so much the better. There you have a dessert which practically costs nothing, for the cake was inevitable anyway, and you simply took a bit of left-over, added the fruit and icing, and there you are." "If I had a cow and so could have cream, I could fill the middle with whipped cream, and have something even better." "Yes, indeed; it makes me sigh to think of that cow! Or, you could manage this dessert in this way; bake the cake in one small tin instead of in two little ones, and split it and fill it with soft custard well thickened with corn-starch and flavored; or you could put jam between the layers and eat cream on it, if you had any. Or, you could use strawberries in summer and have a perfectly delicious shortcake." "Yes, of course; I'll write all those things down. Only I suppose we sha'n't have cake very often if it has to be cheap and plain, for I don't care for that kind." "Oh, there are good kinds you can have, my dear. I said not to have extravagant kinds, that was all. Have good cake when you have any, and do not try and skimp on the materials. Only, make a little cake, that calls for a small amount of butter and few eggs, and eat it up while it is fresh and good, rather than make a huge layer-cake that lasts a week and costs money. If you choose a good rule, you can vary it. One day bake the cake in a loaf and add raisins and spices; or split it and put jam between the layers; or bake it in two tins and put mixed nuts and raisins chopped together between the layers. You can have all sorts of things for a change, you see." "I am afraid to venture, but I suppose I will learn in time. When eggs are cheap I suppose we can indulge in a little better cake than when they are dear." "Yes, indeed; and then, too, you will economize in butter, so you can afford to spend a little more on eggs. In April or May you can have sponge cake, or even angels' food; either divide the rule and make half, or make it all and use part in one or more dessert. Even stale cake is most useful cut in strips and put in soft custard or with whipped cream; while for that good thing, pêche Melba, you need a round of rather stale sponge cake for each person, to stand half a peach on before you fill the top with ice-cream or fruit. And there is cabinet pudding, made by lining a mould with stale cake and filling the inside with custard, jam, and more cake crumbs; you bake that in a pan of water. And you can make a pudding of mixed bread and cake crumbs, too, and color it with grated chocolate, and have a change from the usual thing. Don't think I despise cake, or undervalue its use, for I do not. I am only warning you not to make too much of it and not to use an expensive recipe." "I see. Your advice here, as on other occasions, would he 'Study the cook-book,' I suppose." "Exactly. A sensible cook-book is a wonderful help in learning to live on a little. But before we finish this lesson I had better just tell you a little more about eggs, because here I differ with so many housekeepers that I want to put the matter before you and let you hear my side; you will find the other exploited in plenty of articles here and there. I do not believe in using any eggs that are not fresh. I never put mine down in lime or brine or anything else. That seems a heresy, because it is possible to keep them in several ways. But I either buy good, fresh ones when I need them, or go without. One can easily manage to use very few in housekeeping by being careful, and I would rather do that than have those on my table or in my food which have the slightest flavor of stateness. I just tell you this as a personal feeling, and if you live where you can buy them cheaply in quantity and put them away for winter use, do so; only I never do it." "How many do you use a week, anyway?" "A dozen for two people will answer, and in very cold weather, when they are costly, as I said, I do without, except for breakfast once a week, possibly." "So if they are forty cents, or fifty, a dozen, you spend a good deal." "Yes, we do; you need not follow in my footsteps if you do not choose, you know. The fact is, I economize everything else so carefully that I suppose I permit myself this one laxity." "That reminds me; are you infallible, Mary? In other words, do you never make a mistake and overrun your allowance? I have a horrid sinking feeling that I certainly shall do that." "Very likely you may, at first. I used to; but it would be inexcusable after my six years of housekeeping if I did so now. But do up your accounts at the end of each week, Dolly, and if you find you have spent more than your dollar a day, or if your tin bank is so low that you see you are not going to have enough in it for staples the next week, cut right down somewhere. I suggest in meat and fruit and cake. Live on very plain things till you catch up again. In that way you will keep within your monthly sum, and if you do that it is all right." "Well, now, just one thing more and I will let you go. I see you have an eye on the kitchen clock. Tell me how you manage to so plan your meals that you will not have the same things over and over. If we are to have cheap meat always, and cheaper vegetables, and no fruit to speak of, it seems to me I shall get right into a rut and have the same food each week, a sort of squirrel-in-a-cage round and round, and that would be horrid." "So it would, and distinctly unhygienic as well, for you must have variety or your digestion will give out. I think a good way is to write out bills of fare and follow them more or less; or, to have a card catalogue and keep that in a convenient place and run it over when you want anything. That is, have Puddings in one small square box, each recipe written out clearly with a nice black title. If you want one, run these over and select something for which the ingredients are in season. So with hot breads, and made dishes and meats. That might be some little trouble at first, but after you were started I think it would be simple and easy to follow." "Yes, it might be a help; I'll put that down. However, that does not quite cover what I meant to ask you. How do you plan your meals? Do you begin with what you happen to have in the house, say a piece of mutton, half a can of tomatoes, and so on, and so have a hit or miss meal, or do you plan two dinners at once and buy things that will do over in different ways?" "I do both ways; I say to myself when I buy anything, 'What form can this take to-morrow?' and when I see things in the refrigerator in the morning I plan the next meals out of them. I always plan luncheon, dinner, and breakfast each morning. I never will think up breakfast after dinner at night. But I see what you mean, and in the next lesson we will go to work on the subject of meals. I really think, as it is more play than work, we won't make a lesson of it, but a game; the Game of Menus." "It sounds difficult, just the same." "No more than whist or chess or any other game worth learning. Of course it calls for brains, and it cannot be learned in a moment, but it's a game, all the same, and good fun when you have learned it; you'll see!" CHAPTER VIII The Game of Menus "Now for our game," said Mrs. Thorne, after looking in the refrigerator the next day. "I have been thinking about what it is like, and I have decided that it is not so much like chess or whist as it is like anagrams. But though it may not be as great an intellectual feat to master it as though it were one of the famous games, it takes brains, nevertheless. So take heart and try and learn it." She took one sheet of paper and gave Dolly another, and went on. "You know already that the refrigerator plays a large part in our housekeeping and we must be guided in our planning by what we find there morning by morning. But still there is always a place for new dishes after combining the old ones. So first we see what we have and then decide what will best go with it." "Do you always write down what you are going to have? Why?" "Oh, no, of course I do not write every meal down, but I keep a lot of possible menus on hand and turn to them for inspiration when I feel stupid. Or if I have a maid, I hand her over a few and have her follow them, and so be sure--that is, tolerably sure--that the meal will come out as I planned it. Besides these good reasons, there are more which apply especially to you. One is that when you have once learned to make up menus rapidly, you will save yourself a lot of mental storm and stress. Often young housekeepers groan over thinking out meals, especially dinners, of course, since they are the most difficult, and declare that they have had every known meat and vegetable again and again. Instead of that sort of thing, if they had at hand a number of dinners written down, they could select one and save bothering. "And one thing more. You might often go on having the same thing over and over without realizing it. Now, in writing down the dinners for a week at a time you soon see if you are repeating yourself. If the words 'beef stew,' for instance, appear frequently you presently grasp the idea that you are having too much of that festal dish, whereas if you did not see the words in black and white, you might not guess it." "I still do not see how you can plan a second day's meals at the same time you plan the first day's, unless you can gauge with accuracy the size of the family's appetites. Suppose some night, instead of each one's taking one helping of meat all around, we should all take two helpings; that would smash your written menu to bits." "Yes, of course it would, and such things have happened. But written menus are not binding contracts, but only suggestions, and when you and Dick recklessly eat up all the meat between you some night,--personally I should know better than to join you in your extravagance,--then you will have to modify your next day's menu and either plan a new meal or substitute something else for the meat you had arranged for. But still you will find written menus a great help if you use them sensibly and do not feel bound to follow them literally. Now let us begin to play the game. You write down a dinner for to-night, and then I will undertake the thankless task of criticizing it." Dolly gazed thoughtfully at the chandelier a few moments and then wrote rapidly. Presently she read glibly: "Potato soup. Lamb pot pie with dumplings; boiled rice; macaroni and cheese. Tapioca pudding. Coffee." Mrs. Thorne smiled. "Poor Fred! If that is the sort of meal you are arranging to give him, I think he had better stay where he is. Now think a minute. Potato soup first, and potatoes are starchy; next, boiled rice, dumplings and macaroni,--more starch; and last, tapioca pudding! Starchier and starchier, to parody Alice in Wonderland." Dolly pouted. "Well, I am perfectly sure he would eat that dinner thankfully and say it was a good one. He would never know he was eating starch if you did not put it into his head. I think it is all nonsense to point such things out to a man, anyway; it makes him notional about his food." "Later on he would wonder why on earth he had dyspepsia, my child. You would not like to have a dyspeptic husband, would you? People who have poor digestions are proverbially cross, you know, and too much starch is certain to ruin even the very best of stomachs in time. "Now let me explain what I took it for granted you knew already. You must not have too much of any one ingredient in your food; not too much fat, or starch, or sugar or anything else, because it is not wholesome. The perfect dinner is like this: First a good soup; then meat with one green and one starchy vegetable; then a fresh vegetable salad dressed lightly with oil; then a very simple sweet; coffee last; or, omitting the sweet, coffee alone. Of course you and I cannot afford to have dinners like that all the year around, because green vegetables cost too much, but that is the ideal toward which we must strive. In place of the things we cannot have, we must have substitutes as nearly resembling them as may be. In summer, of course, it is the easiest thing in the world to have salads and green vegetables, and in winter we must do the best we can without them. Now try another menu, and do not mind my criticisms. And put a date on this one, so we can tell the time of year and see whether or not you are having the proper things; suppose you say this is a March dinner." Dolly again consulted the chandelier, and after much study produced this result: "Clear soup. Veal stew; mashed potatoes; canned string-beans. Prune pudding. Coffee." "Better," said her sister doubtfully. "But don't you think veal would be pretty expensive in March? And why string-beans, when parsnips and salsify are plenty? And as to prune pudding, consider the egg whites!" "Mary, you are too exasperating for words," ejaculated her much tried sister. "I am sure that was a beautiful menu. However, I'll try again. Still winter?" "Yes, still winter." "Well, here is a perfect one; absolutely faultless," Dolly said presently. "Clear soup. Mutton and barley stew; potatoes; parsnip cakes. Deep apple tart. Coffee." Her sister laughed outright. "This game evidently has more to it than you thought when you began to learn it, hasn't it? Now this menu has its good points, but I think you were rash in pronouncing it faultless. The clear soup is all right, provided you made it out of what you had in the house, and the mutton and barley stew is good and nourishing. But why have potatoes and barley at the same meal? You do not need them both. Instead, drop out the potatoes and have a dish of spiced fruit with the meat instead of a second vegetable. Or, omit the soup, have the stew first, and then a salad. As to dessert, unless it was a phenomenal apple year, I am afraid you would find deep apple tart would cost too much in March. However, that menu is an improvement on your other. Now make a second dinner off the remains of the first, if you can." "That is worse still. I think we will eat the whole up one night, this time, and have no remains." "If you do, you must have half-priced things the second night, then." "Well, how is this? "Mutton croquettes; mashed potatoes; minced turnips. Celery salad; crackers and cheese. Bread pudding with dates. Coffee." "That does very well. I see you had no carrots and had to buy turnips, but they are cheap. Celery, however, I am afraid was rather expensive, wasn't it? Could you not have had shredded cabbage instead? And you really did not need crackers and cheese with it; you might have had them with coffee for dessert. But, you are learning. Now try another winter dinner, because they are most difficult of all." Dolly wrote, after some thinking: "Purée of dried lima bean soup. Rounds of pork tenderloin; minced carrots; potato balls. Cherry pie. Coffee." "Fair; pretty good," commented her sister. "I see you plan to put the carrots and potato balls around the one pork tenderloin you had Frenched, so it would be enough, and you had a heavy soup with the light meat. So far I have no fault to find. But I cannot approve of pie after pork. Can you not have the canned cherries another way?" Dolly scratched out the word "pie," and wrote in "pudding." "That is all right. Now just one more to use up the scraps left from this." "Cream of carrot soup. Veal chops, breaded; scalloped canned tomato; sweet potatoes. Chocolate custard. Coffee," wrote Dolly. "Now that is what I call a good dinner," Mrs. Thorne said approvingly. "The left-over carrots you made up into soup. You had no pork to use up, so you got two veal chops, and those are fairly cheap. Having tomatoes was a master stroke, because they go so well with veal, and you will have enough of them over for a second dinner. I suppose the custard does not call for eggs?" "No, it's a soft corn-starch pudding served in glasses. But, Mary, I did not intend to use up the tomatoes for a second dinner, but to have them for luncheon as Spanish toast." "Oh, very well, that will do for once, especially as I hope you bought only a small can of them. By the way, speaking of luncheon, remember when you have cabbage for dinner, to keep out half after it is creamed, and the next day have it baked with layers of cheese; that is a delightful luncheon dish. You can use up boiled rice in the same way with white sauce and cheese, or you can merely mix your tomato and rice and bake that. Or, you could have rice croquettes and tomato sauce. But I am getting off the subject. Now try a July dinner, for a change." "Oh, that's easy. "Cream of celery soup. Lamb chops and peas; new potatoes in cream. Strawberry shortcake. Coffee." "Where will you buy celery in July, my dear? That must come off your menu the very first thing. Remember you can have only seasonable things. And lamb chops are always expensive by the pound, and very small, with lots of bone and trimming, too, so they will not do; you must change them for a cheaper meat. As to strawberries--strawberries in July?" "It's the very first of the month, Mary. They are still plenty and cheap." "All right, then. But if the weather is warm I don't think Fred will care for a hot soup and hot coffee too. Why soup at all?" "Just because. I can change that if you do not approve. How is this? "Veal cutlet in strips; peas and new potatoes. Sliced tomatoes on lettuce. Strawberry shortcake. Coffee." "That is perfect. But do not let yourself be eaten up with pride yet, for as you said, summer menus are easy to do. Try one in September." "Boiled corned beef; potatoes; cabbage. Watercress salad. Chocolate corn-starch pudding. Coffee." Dolly wrote down rapidly, and read aloud. Her sister laughed again. "This time you have decidedly lost the game," she said. "I think you have everything wrong in that menu that you possibly could have. Remember the rule: you must eat whatever is in season. Now, why have in September the food you should reserve for winter, and why omit all the good fall vegetables and fruits? Try again. I blush for you, my dear." Dolly muttered something about people who were too particular, but rewrote her menu docilely. "Cream of corn soup. Lamb and tomatoes stewed; fried eggplant; sweet potatoes. Frozen peaches. Coffee." "Perfectly delicious; I wish we could have that to-night. You see you really know how to use what you can have in market if only you think about it. Corn for soup, and tomatoes, eggplant and peaches all in one good dinner, and yet all cheap. Now, cover yourself with glory again in a menu for December. And this time use up some probable left-overs. Let me see. Suppose you had the lamb only the night before and there was a little left of that, and half the corn and sweet potatoes. Add what you need to those, since all of them come in December as well as earlier." This took more time, but presently Dolly read: "Lamb soufflé; sweet potato puff; corn fritters. Oranges. Coffee." "That is a distinctly inferior menu," said Mary severely. "I see you are not ready for a prize yet, unless it's a booby prize. That soufflé of the lamb is quite right, but imagine what a light and trifling meal for a hungry man! Soufflé,--half fluff; corn fritters, and potato puff,--more fluffiness. What should have begun that dinner, Dolly, in December?" "Oh, of course! A heavy bean soup; but I will add that." "Before you do, let me finish my criticisms. Oranges are too light a dessert for a simple meal unless everything else is heavy. With the bean soup you will improve things, but it seems to me you should have either crackers and cheese with the fruit and coffee, or nuts and coffee instead of the oranges." "Oh, well, I can easily rewrite the whole thing. How is this? "Black bean soup. Lamb soufflé; fried sweet potatoes; succotash. Nuts and raisins. Coffee." "Splendid! I could not do better myself. You put dried beans in with the corn, and sliced and fried the sweet potatoes. That is a very good dinner indeed. Now do two menus for January and use up left-overs again." "Corned beef; cabbage; mashed potatoes. Canned string-bean salad. Mince pie and cheese. Coffee." "Dolly, I do think you are crazy! Corned beef and cabbage and mince pie! Do you want your husband to expire in agonies that very same night? Never have mince pie with a heavy meat. I might almost say never have it at all, because it is so hearty it ought to be a meal all by itself. If you ever do have it, put it after the lightest things you can find, and have green salad or apple sauce, or something of the sort, to counteract it." "Well, I'll cut the pie out. But what is the matter with corned beef and cabbage? I thought those went particularly well together." "If you do not cook them in the same pot, but prepare the cabbage as I told you, in such a way that anybody can digest it, even a child or a confirmed dyspeptic, you can have it with any meat. But never cook anything with corned beef, except a slice of onion to season it. As for dessert, what will you have instead of mince pie?" "Oh, canned blueberry tart; eggs and butter are dear in January. You see I do know something." "Very good. Now make a second dinner and use the left-overs of this one." "Split pea purée. Creamed corned beef, baked; string beans; mashed potato cakes. Steamed fig pudding. Coffee." "That menu is really a success. You made the purée of the water the corned beef was boiled in, I see, and used up your half-can of string-beans for a vegetable; and of course the potato cakes were the mashed potatoes reheated. But why that particular pudding?" "Fred ate up all the blueberry tart the night before; not a scrap of it was left, because it was so good," said Dolly demurely. "Well, I don't blame him. Now I think you understand the game, and you can go on and practise it as you get time. Making out a whole set of menus for a year, four or five for each month, would be excellent practice for you, Dolly. But that is all for to-day." "But, Mary, why do you skip all the breakfasts and luncheons? I am quite as capable of making glaring mistakes there as in dinners. If you don't tell me what to have, I shall certainly lunch on cold meat, and have two eggs apiece every morning in the week--also grapefruit!" "What a frightful threat! Well, then, here are a few breakfasts, just to start you off comfortably:" Spring 1. Poached eggs on toast; muffins; coffee. 2. Boiled rice and raisins, with cream; milk toast; coffee. 3. Codfish croquettes; pop-overs; coffee, toast, orange marmalade. Summer 1. Cold oatmeal with berries; coffee and toast. 2. Scrambled eggs; corn bread; coffee. 3. Slices of fried eggplant; muffins; coffee. Autumn 1. Sliced peaches; little pan fish; toast; coffee. 2. Fried tomatoes with cream sauce; rice muffins; coffee. 3. Parsley omelette; sally-lunn; coffee. Winter 1. Cereal with chopped figs; creamed codfish; toast; coffee. 2. Bacon; fried apples; corn-meal puffs. 3. Creamed hard-boiled eggs on toast; coffee; fried hominy and syrup. "Those are all practical and cheap, Dolly, I think, but you must modify them to suit your own needs, of course. If you find any of them expensive, substitute something else. You can have broiled dried beef in place of the bacon in one of the winter menus, for one thing, and in place of the eggs in any menu you can have some left-over you cannot use elsewhere. Now for the luncheons:" Spring 1. Canned corn fritters; tea; jam tartlets. 2. Spinach on toast; tea; cheese crackers. 3. Codfish cutlets; tea; drop cakes. Summer 1. Lettuce with mayonnaise; sandwiches; iced tea; berries. 2. Stuffed and baked eggplant; tea; lettuce and French dressing. 3. Baked tomatoes; iced coffee and fruit. Autumn 1. Vegetable croquettes; cocoa; grapes. 2. Plain omelette; tea; stewed pears. 3. Baked sweet potatoes; tea; baked apples. Winter 1. Cheese soufflé; tea; wafers. 2. Cup of soup; macaroni and tomatoes. 3. Potatoes filled with creamed fish; doughnuts. "There! I think you might write those down and add to them as you like, too. I did not say which luncheons were made from left-overs and which were not, but some of them are, you can see for yourself. Of course you must never forget to use up what you have in the house rather than buy anything whatever for any meal. I think I have sufficiently impressed that on your mind, haven't I?" "You have, indeed. Now let's stop playing this game for awhile and go and get luncheon; I am starved." "Dear me, I should think you would be; it's lunch time now. I declare, Dolly, this game is as absorbing as bridge." CHAPTER IX Two Dinner Parties Mr. Thorne proved as good as his word, for though he did not immediately follow up his warning that he would bring home unexpected company to dinner, he merely bided his time. One morning his wife said that, as she and Dolly would be out most of the day he need not expect a very good dinner that night, so that evening he gaily put in an appearance at six o'clock with two bachelor friends who had occasionally helped enliven the domestic circle on similar occasions. Now, the dinner had been planned with an especial view to getting it on the table without a delay, as Mrs. Thorne could not be certain just what time she would be at home. The soup was ready to reheat. It was a plain purée, made with vegetables and water, flavored with a bone and plenty of seasoning, but there was not enough of it for five, unluckily. The meat was a Hamburg steak of moderate size, all ready to put in the dry frying-pan. For vegetables, a half-can of corn was already scalloped with crumbs, to be browned in the oven, and for potatoes a dishful of plain boiled ones was at hand, to be heated up in a white sauce. For dessert there was to be crackers, American cheese, and the usual black coffee, made in the coffee machine on the sideboard for convenience' sake. When Dolly took in the situation and reviewed this menu, she shuddered. What a company dinner! Insufficient soup, scanty meat and corn, plain boiled potatoes, no salad and no dessert! "Really, this time Dick has all but caught us," her sister whispered, as after receiving her guests with a cordial welcome she excused herself to put the dinner on. "Hurry, Dolly, and put more plates in the oven to heat, and get out the big platter and the vegetable dishes and put them in, too. Then lay two extra places and come out and help me. "Now, here is the soup," she went on when her sister appeared. "There isn't half enough. You will have to get a can out of the emergency closet. Then the steak; isn't it fortunate that I had not put it over to cook? Now I can flatten it a little and make it larger, so it will cover more surface. I'll put vegetables all around it, and it will just fill that big platter and look exactly like a planked porter-house when I'm done with it. But the corn is hopeless; it is far too small an amount. Get some peas from the closet, Dolly, and drain and season them and make them hot. The potatoes won't do, either. Get some raw ones, and peel them and cut them in good-sized bits. And put on the kettle of fat to heat; I'll brown them in that." After the meat was on the fire Mrs. Thorne made a salad by peeling and slicing in thick pieces three oranges she had bought for the next day's breakfast, because they happened to be cheap that day. She arranged these in the salad bowl and stirred up a French dressing to pour over them. She put the bowl on the sideboard and arranged the dessert by it, the crackers, a jar of fancy cheese from the closet in place of the American, and the coffee in the machine with small cups and saucers; she also set out the salad plates. She filled the tumblers, put on bread, and the bread and butter plates, with butter balls on them. Then she added a dish of spiced prunes to go with the meat course. As she was always certain that the dinner cloth was fresh and her fern dish filled and pretty, she had no changes to make in the table, and the two extra places had been laid by Dolly. When she returned to the kitchen, the steak was ready to be turned and the potatoes prepared for the hot fat; it took only a moment to cook and drain them. The soup was put in the heated tureen, and with the hot soup plates carried into the dining-room. Then dinner was announced. While the rest were seated at the table, Dolly served the soup from the sideboard. This plan was arranged beforehand. Whenever the question was discussed in the family which was the easiest and best plan of managing this first course without a maid, Mr. Thorne always held that the soup should be served at the table, and when they were alone this was done; but with guests there was always the possibility of an accident when men's unskilled hands passed filled soup plates from hand to hand. Sometimes in the past they had tried the plan of serving it before the guests came to the table, but too often the soup had been somewhat cooled, an unpardonable offence in the eyes of the hostess. Generally there was the same compromise as to-night, and with guests it was passed from the sideboard. After this course the cold plates under the soup plates, which had been put on when the table was laid, were removed with those above. With a maid they would have been left on the table and merely exchanged for hot ones by her, but after many experiments this had been decided on as the only feasible plan,--to take away the two together and put a pile of hot ones before the carver and have them passed from hand to hand. It was not as elegant as the other way, but it did away with the waiting on the table during the course. So Dolly brought in the large platter of steak and set it down before the carver. The meat was brown on the outside and pink within. A strip of suet representing a bone ran down the middle, and another outlined the edge, making it look like a porter-house cut. All around it were alternating piles of browned potatoes and green peas, with sprigs of parsley here and there, so that it was appetizing to look at and delicious to eat. With this arrangement there were no vegetables to pass, and the bread and spiced prunes were passed around without trouble. The next course was the salad. After taking off meat plates and platter, Dolly set the bowl before her sister and put on the table a plate of thin bread crisps, rolled up slices of bread and butter, browned quickly in the oven while the plates were warming for dinner. After this third course Dolly removed everything and crumbed the table. Then came the crackers, and the fancy cheese which had taken the place of the plain American variety intended for family consumption only; and with them the coffee machine was put on, with the cups, saucers, and spoons and a bowl of cut sugar, and the black, hot, fragrant coffee brought the dinner successfully to a close. "I can never catch you," said Mr. Thorne mournfully, when the guests had finally departed with complimentary remarks to their hostess. "You always spoil my nice little practical dinner-jokes by your confounded preparedness! And now I suppose I've got to pay the forfeit." "What forfeit?" asked Dolly. "Why, we have an arrangement that Dick can bring any friends home to dinner at any time, the number not to exceed two at once," explained her sister. "Then if there is dinner enough, and if it really is good enough for the occasion, he has to pay me for my extra trouble. Of course, if I ever fail, I'll have to pay up in my turn, but so far he has been caught every time. Dolly and I will consider, Dick, what the forfeit shall be. Matinee tickets, I rather think, this time." "Well, I'll get them cheerfully, for that was really a good dinner, and the kind a man likes, which is another matter." The next day Mrs. Thorne replaced the soup, cheese, and peas she had taken out of her emergency closet. She had also to buy extra meat for dinner as there was none left over for a second day's meal, but as the dinner had been a cheap one for five, she did not grudge the small amount expended. "But now we must economize in earnest this week," she said as she added up her accounts, "because next week I want to have a real little dinner-party. I must have several, in fact, to return the hospitality shown you, my dear. Luckily it is spring, now; remember that it is always cheaper to entertain in spring than at any other time in the year." "It's a lot cheaper not to entertain at all," Dolly grumbled rebelliously. "Don't let's have any dinner-parties--they're such a bother!" "On the contrary, they are no bother at all, but lots of fun when you have them as I do, simply and inexpensively. And you really must do some entertaining in your turn if you do not want to drop out of everything when you are married, and that would be a most foolish thing to do." "Who waits on the table?" demanded Dolly. "Oh, that's the trouble with the dinner-party, is it? Well, I hasten to relieve your mind--you don't! When I give a company dinner I have in a young girl whom I have trained. She does all the waiting, and stays and washes the dishes, and I pay her seventy-five cents for the evening. Sometimes, when I have a little luncheon I do my own waiting, and of course in a surprise-party dinner I have to also, but not when I give a regular invitation dinner. I wait till I have money enough in hand for the waitress as well as the food and flowers and all, and then I go ahead." A few days later the party was arranged for. A young couple and their unmarried brother were asked, making a group of six to sit about the round table. This was the menu Mrs. Thorne wrote out: Cream of beet soup. Radishes, almonds, olives. Forequarter of lamb, stuffed; mint jelly; new potatoes; peas. Lettuce and cheese balls; wafers. Vanilla ice-cream and sherried cherries; small cakes. Coffee. "Doesn't that sound good?" she asked, surveying the paper with her head on one side. "Now to make as many things as possible to-day, so we won't get too tired to-morrow. First, we will salt the almonds." "Do let me do those all alone! I saw somebody do it once, and I know exactly how. You just take off the skins and fry them in olive oil." "My dear, I hate to seem unappreciative or hurt your little feelings, but the fact is, that is a most abominable way to do them, though it's common enough. It makes them greasy and streaky, partly brown and partly white. This is the really-truly way to make them: first you put them in boiling water till the skins loosen, and then drop them in cold water; slip off the skins, and dry them and mix them with the half beaten white of an egg--that is, about half the whole white; then you sprinkle them with salt and put them on a tin in the oven and occasionally stir them. They will turn a lovely creamy brown and will be crisp and evenly colored, and you can keep those you do not use at one dinner and heat them up to freshen them when you need them, for a second dinner, just as you do crackers. We will do them that way to-day. Then besides that we will get the dining-room in order, polish the silver and glass, fill the salts, and look over the china and table linen, so that to-morrow there will not be much to do." The next morning the marketing was done early, so that the things would come home in good season. At the grocery they bought the beets,--one bunch of old ones, not the young ones just in market; a can of small American peas; a head of lettuce; a square cream cheese and a round one half its size in order to have enough; a little American cheese; two lemons, and a pint of cream. At the butcher's they ordered lamb. "Not what you call 'spring lamb,'" she explained, "but exactly what you have been selling all winter; that is still nice, and plenty young enough. Now cut off the neck and the trimmings, and take out the shoulder-blade and make a pocket for the stuffing to go in comfortably, and send me a bunch of mint with it all." While she waited for her change she told Dolly about this purchase. "Forequarter of lamb is really the cheapest roast there is. Sometimes even when we are all by ourselves I buy it and make ever so many meals of it. I get a big piece, as much as eight or nine pounds, because that is the cheapest way, and the butcher keeps it for me and lets me have it as I want it. The roast makes at least two dinners, and there is a lot left over still for croquettes and soufflés and such things. Then there are four chops for one or even two dinners more for two people--" "'With a good filling soup to take off the edge of the appetite first,' otherwise the four chops would make only one dinner," interrupted Dolly, quoting freely. "Exactly. And besides, there are the trimmings and odds and ends for meat pies and stews, so you see how far it goes." "Really, I should think you and Dick would fairly bleat!" "Well, perhaps we might if we deliberately sat down to lamb night after night, but we don't do anything half so foolish. We have things between, veal and beef and pork, and as the lamb is practically in cold storage at the butcher's, it can wait indefinitely, and when we do have it we live on what I used to think the old Jews wanted to live on in Canaan,--'the fat of the lamb!' But now's let's hurry home, for there's lots to do yet." As soon as their things were taken off and kitchen dresses put on, the plain vanilla ice-cream was frozen and packed away to ripen. For the sauce which was to be put on each glass which it was served, a small can of preserved cherries was opened and drained; the juice was boiled down to a thick syrup with a small cup of sugar, and the cherries put back in it to cool, with a flavoring of sherry. The salad was made next, the lettuce washed and rolled up in a clean towel and put where it was very cold, to crisp. They rolled balls of cream cheese, wetting them with a bit of oil to make them smooth, and adding salt and a dash of cayenne; as each one was made it was rolled in grated American cheese and then laid away. The French dressing was also made, and at the last moment was to be poured over the lettuce, and the golden, white-centred balls laid on it. The beets for the soup were next chopped and boiled in a pint of water; as much milk was added, the whole seasoned with a slice of onion, salt and pepper, and then strained and slightly thickened. This made the prettiest of pink soups, and one which could be set away and be reheated at dinner time in three minutes. The mint jelly was also made: a cup of water was put with the juice of a lemon and heated; when hot, a small bunch of bruised mint was put in and simmered for two minutes; then this was strained and a level tablespoonful of gelatine, dissolved in half a cup of cold water, was put in with a tiny bit of green vegetable coloring, the whole strained through flannel and put into a pretty little mould. It would come out a lovely sparkling green, quite decorative enough to be put on the table, and delicious to eat with the lamb, Mrs. Thorne assured Dolly complacently. The peas were turned out of the can, drained, seasoned and made ready to heat up quickly. The potatoes were boiled and cut up in a very little thick white sauce, and a spoonful of parsley was minced to be scattered over them, last of all. After their luncheon the dinner table was laid. It had a white damask cloth, and a white, lace-edged centrepiece. There were four glass candlesticks with yellow candles and shades, and in the middle a bowl of the yellow jonquils, now in season and inexpensive. At each place was a pretty plate, which was to remain on till exchanged for a hot one later, and a small array of silver, with a tumbler and napkin. The latter hid a dinner roll, so no bread and butter was served at the dinner. The table was then finished except for the last touch; the small dishes of radishes and salted almonds, and a few white peppermints, were to be put on just before dinner, with the dish of mint jelly. After the dinner was over Dolly confessed her amazement. "I 'never did,' as the children say. I had no idea you could have so nice, so pretty a party with so little to 'do' with. Really, we never missed the fish, or the entrée, or the game or anything else. It was a lovely and delicious meal, wasn't it, Dick?" "Modesty compels me to refrain from saying what I truly think, Dolly. Otherwise I should mention my conviction is that it was as good a dinner and as nice a party as you'd often find, and your sister is about as fine a cook and manager as they make 'em. But as I said to begin with, in my position of host my lips are sealed." "So little trouble, too," Dolly went on, smiling at him. "I really thought you were crazy to ask the Osgoods, whom everybody is afraid to entertain because they have everything in the world, but our dinner was just as nice as though we had followed in their footsteps and had a table decorated with orchids, and whitebait and fancy ices and everything else to eat. Mary, permit me to say I consider you a genius!" "Nothing of the sort. I am simply a woman, more or less sensible, I fondly trust, who knows that nowadays nobody cares for long, ten-course meals, and if what is set out is only good of its kind, that is all that matters. Then, too, when we are really living on a little and everybody knows it, either we cannot entertain at all, which means that we cannot accept invitations, or we must do it in a plain way, in keeping with the general style of our home life. Anything else would be absurd, snobbish and extravagant. And to prove that people like to come to simple dinner-parties like ours, I shall have two more right away." "Three cheers," said her husband calmly. The next morning the sisters added up their accounts and set down the dinner menu and what it cost in a little dinner-party book which was often used for reference by them. This is what the dinner proved to have cost: Soup, milk and beets $.15 Lamb 1.40 Lettuce, one head, cheese balls, French dressing .30 Cream, ice and salt for freezing .30 Cakes, home-made .10 Almonds, radishes, olives, mint jelly .50 ----- $2.75 "That is all, except the flowers, which were forty cents, and the cherries, which I made myself last summer and paid for then, so I did not have to put their cost in now, you see. The little bottle of olives cost ten cents; so did the radishes. The Jordan almonds were forty cents a pound, and I got half a pound and have some over for next time. With the flowers, that makes the dinner $3.15; say $3.25, to allow a liberal margin for little bits of butter, sugar, salt and so on used up in cooking, and $4, including the pay of the waitress. I call that a cheap party." As soon as finances permitted and small economies had made the two sisters feel comparatively rich, they gave a second dinner. This time they found some pink tulips at a small florist's, and these they used in making a lovely table. They stuck them one by one into a very shallow dish filled with sand, the leaves put in and out also, and the edge of the dish concealed with moss; this gave exactly the effect of a little bed of growing flowers. The menu was quite different from the other dinner: Cream of almond soup. Olives, radishes, salted nuts. Maryland chicken with cream gravy; new potatoes; corn fritters. Lettuce and cherry salad; crackers. Vanilla ice-cream with strawberries. Coffee. The soup was made by chopping a quarter of a pound of almonds and simmering them in a pint of milk; then the other pint was put in with the seasoning, and it was slightly thickened, strained, and at last beaten up well with an egg-beater to make it foamy. The chicken was cut up and the best pieces dipped in batter and fried in deep fat; a rich cream gravy was passed with this. The corn fritters which were the necessary accompaniment of the dish were made of canned, grated corn. The salad was very cheap at this time of year. Large California cherries were stoned, laid on lettuce, and a French dressing poured over all. The ice-cream was a nice vanilla, and on each glass was put one fine large strawberry. The next day the remains of the chicken appeared at dinner in the shape of croquettes, with a rice border, and the rest of the box of berries came on also. This materially reduced the expenses of that meal, and the difference went on to the cost of the party dinner, to help out. The account was like this: Soup, milk and almonds $.20 Chickens, two 1.75 Potatoes and corn .25 Lettuce and cherries .30 Cream and berries .30 ----- $2.80 Adding the little things as before, the flowers, nuts, olives, pay of the waitress, and a margin, brought this up to a trifle over four dollars. "That is too much," said Mary soberly, as she set down the figures. "I mean to keep strictly within a four-dollar limit. So our third dinner, Dolly, must be less than these and even things." This was the third dinner: Clear soup with tapioca. Salted nuts, radishes, almonds. Roast of veal, stuffed; fresh mushrooms; potatoes. Lettuce with chopped nuts; French dressing. Strawberry ices. Coffee. "That is a good, sensible dinner," said Dolly. "No frills, unless you count the mushrooms." "It is the cost of the waitress that makes these dinners so expensive," said her sister. "It provokes me to have to put money on that, yet I will do it at a real dinner-party. But as for the rest, this ought not to be a costly affair." The soup was made of very ordinary materials, but it looked and tasted well. The roast was crisply browned and juicy within, and the delicious stuffing and broiled mushrooms were substantial and good. The salad was lettuce covered with chopped almonds put on after the French dressing. The ices called for no cream and so were inexpensive. The figures showed this result: Soup $.15 Veal 1.20 Mushrooms, quarter of a pound .25 Potatoes, radishes, almonds, etc. .35 Lettuce, nuts, dressing, crackers .20 Ices .20 ----- $2.35 "Ah, that's better," said Mary, when she saw the total. "Then the flowers were the same as before, only red instead of pink tulips; the waitress, too, and the margin--only $3.25. I feel relieved." "Of course roast veal is not quite as good as Maryland chicken," said Dolly, "but the mushrooms made it seem quite elegant; broiled mushrooms are certainly food for the gods. It is quite a saving to have an ice instead of an ice-cream, isn't it? And Mary, did you see what a big, big piece of roast was left over?" "That is one of the good things about veal, that there is so little waste. I am sure we can easily make two dinners out of it, and that will save ever so much. And when we can get ahead at all, Dolly, we must hurry and have our luncheons." CHAPTER X Reducing Expenses "I never feel as extravagant as I do in spring-time," Mrs. Thorne said as she hovered over asparagus, tiny new potatoes, fresh peas and strawberries in the market one May morning. "Everything is so tempting, and we are tired of winter vegetables, and yet we will run up dreadful accounts if we attempt to have any of these goodies. Come right along, Dolly; don't linger a moment longer, or I am lost." "You could really have bought a spring vegetable or two," remonstrated her sister as they walked home. "We are ahead on our money, I know, because I rattled the bank this morning, and it was nearly full. I do not see why you did not get something nice and springy if you wanted to." "Because now for a week or two I mean to reduce expenses. I want to give three small luncheons and have everything as nice and pretty as possible, and you know we used up our savings of two months on our dinner-parties. The rattling of the bank meant only pennies, my dear; I know, for I peeked. So we must cut down vigorously." "That is an absolute impossibility," said Dolly with decision. "We do not waste a single crumb now, not a potato paring, not a bone nor even an egg-shell. We can't save a cent's worth." "Oh, yes, we can; we can save a lot if we try. And there is a suggestion for to-day's lesson; it will be on Retrenchment." Dolly still looked unconvinced when she sat down with book and pencil, but Mary was complacent. "Of course we do not waste anything," she began, as she took her seat in the sitting-room after the entire apartment was in immaculate order and lunch under way, "and as you suggest, we have cheap meats and vegetables right along. But we can still find some things that are cheaper still,--because you always can, whatever you have. So if we cut down on those to begin with, and have desserts for a week made without butter or eggs, and abandon fruit altogether for the time, I am sure we can have quite a surplus presently. "To begin with meat, because you know my theory that that is always the expensive point in housekeeping, you know I said veal was cheap in the spring. So it is, but instead of using the ordinary cuts, you can have something less expensive. There is a calf's heart, for one thing. A country butcher would probably give that away--and incidentally inquire what on earth you wanted it for. Here in town I suppose we must pay something for it, but it will not be much; only a few cents. You have no idea what a delicious meat that is, so delicate and tender. You wash it well and make a bread-crumbs stuffing for it with a good deal of seasoning, and after you cut out the strings and wipe it dry in the middle you stuff it. Bake it in a covered pan for two hours, basting it well frequently, then make a gravy and pour over it. You really should have cooked onions, browned in this gravy, to go with the dish, because they are the accepted thing with the heart, but you need not if you do not want to, for it will be good without them. Then the next day you will have enough left over for a dish of baked hash, or a cottage loaf. And all for, say, ten cents or less! Isn't that a stroke of economy? "Then there is boiled calf's head. That, too, you could get for a song in the country. Have the butcher clean it well and let you have both the brain and the tongue; be sure and make him understand that. Wash and parboil both of these in separate saucepans. The brains taste exactly like sweetbreads, and if you chop them and make them up into croquettes, no one will suspect that they are not what they seem. It is strange that so many people are prejudiced against using brains, for they are the cleanest possible meat. They are kept shut up in a little bone box where nothing can soil or hurt them, and as a calf has little intelligence, they never grow tough from use! So have the brains for one meal. Then when the tongue is tender, take it up and peel it and braise it with minced vegetables; that is, cook it in the oven in a covered pan, smothered in vegetables. Have this as it is, as a roast, and what is left over make up into a loaf exactly as you do with chopped veal or beef; or dice, cream and bake it for a second dinner. If you have any tiny bits still left, put those through the meat chopper and spread them on toast; put an egg on each and serve for breakfast or luncheon. "Then the head proper. This you had better have the butcher keep for you till you have used up the other things, or you will have too much meat on hand to use economically. When he sends it, tell him to split it open, as this must be done and you probably could not do it yourself. Put it into cold water and put it on the fire till it comes to the boiling point. Take it off and plunge it into cold water to blanch it, rub it all over with half a lemon, and then put it into boiling water, only just enough to cover it, and add a tablespoonful of vinegar, a small onion, chopped, a carrot and a sprig of parsley. If you have a bay leaf, put that in too. Cover the pot and gently simmer it for two hours, or till the meat is ready to drop from the bones. Take it up then, take out all the bones, skin, and gristle, and put the meat in an even pile; cover it with bread crumbs and brown it in the oven. In cool weather this will make two good dinners, and you will find it as good as the tongue. In summer, divide the meat and have only one dinner baked. Put the other half into a mould and fill it up with the stock it was boiled in, after you have cooked this down and strained it; it is so full of gelatine that it will set at once and you will have a fine dish of ice-cold meat set in a clear aspic, and what better could any one wish for? If there is more stock than you need, keep out part for the basis of a soup; it is so strong that it will make you an extra good one, with perhaps tomatoes added to it. Now when you consider that one calf's head will make at the very least four dinners for a small family, do you not think by having it you will materially reduce expenses?" "Having a mind open to conviction, I do." "Well, then! To go on to another sort of meat, here is another suggestion of cheapness. You know what a shin of beef is, don't you? The lower part of the leg, where the meat is apt to be stringy and tough; most people think it is good only for soup. Get the butcher to cut you two rounds from that, right through the bone. Perhaps you may need three, if he cuts low down, or possibly only one high up; you must watch him and judge how many you will need. Take this, put it in a casserole or stew-pan with hot water enough to cover it and put it on the very back of the stove, where it cannot boil, and let it stand there for three hours; then try it, and if it is tender, cover it with chopped vegetables, carrots, a little onion, parsley, and turnips and peas if you happen to have them at hand. Let it simmer now for an hour. Take up the meat, drain the vegetables and put them around it, thicken and brown the gravy and put it over all, and you would never guess you were dining off 'soup meat.' "Or, here is another way to cook the same cut. Get a good large piece, say one weighing two and a half pounds. Brown it in a hot saucepan all over with a spoonful of drippings; when it is all a good color, pour enough water on to just cover it, and put in the vegetables as you did before and add six cloves. Simmer the whole under a cover for four hours and serve just as it is, in a hot dish. "Still a third way to manage, is to cut the meat from the bone and dice it. Simmer this with the vegetables and the bone till it is very tender. Take up the meat and put it in a baking-dish, and strain and thicken the gravy and pour this over; then put a crust on top, either one of pastry or a mashed potato crust with an egg beaten in it to make it light, and bake the whole. Put a little butter on top to brown it if you use the potato. Now, no one who ate those three or four dishes would think they were related; but when you have them, do not serve them one after another, but let a week go by between, just to have a change of meat. "Then there is calf's liver. That in town even in spring costs more than it did some years ago, but even here a little goes so far that I call it a cheap meat, too; there is not a particle of waste about it, you see. Get a pound and a half some time and lard it; that is, stick narrow strips of salt pork in it. If you cannot do that, lay two slices on top of the whole. Bake it in a covered pan and baste it often, and serve with a brown gravy. There will be one dinner off this roast to begin with. For a second, chop it up and either make a mock terrapin by a cook-book rule, or else cut it in dice, cream and bake it. If any bits are left over have those on toast for luncheon." "Mary, you told me in the most solemn manner that I was never to have meat for either luncheon or breakfast." "Did I say never? I did not quite mean that, because sometimes you have a very little bit of something you can economically utilize in that way. Of course you could have it in a soufflé for dinner if you had a small cupful, but if you had only half as much, you could not; then put it on toast and add plenty of gravy, and have it for breakfast with a clear conscience. Only do not have anything which would do for dinner; that is all I meant by my 'never.' The same thing applies to lunch. If you have just a little meat you are sure is useless elsewhere, mix it with boiled rice and lots of seasoning, and bake it in a mould in a pan of water and turn it out hot; that makes a very good and economical dish for once." "It does seem strange, when one thinks that we are eating scrag of mutton and beef stew right along, to buy things cheaper still for dinner, doesn't it?" "Oh, we have not had those things right along! We had chicken last week, once, and the week before we had a pot-roast which I recall with pleasure this minute. But I admit the accusation in part, for you know we have had the dinner-parties to make up for. Ordinarily, I do not manage quite so closely. But if for a week or two you have calf's head once, and a dinner or two of beef shin and such things, you will cut down wonderfully on your meat bill. You can have also a dinner of one Frenched tenderloin, and another of scrag of mutton with barley, and a third of half a pound of chopped beef made up into meat cakes with a brown gravy. If you eke out with odds and ends of things in croquettes, with heavy soup before it, I should think you could save nearly two dollars in the one item of meat, and no one the wiser. Then once have a main course of salt codfish, freshened and creamed and baked with crumbs, in place of meat, and another time have baked beans, just for a change. If it is summer-time you can have a very good dinner dish of an eggplant. Cut it in two sidewise, take out the centre and salt it, and put it under a weight to extract the juice. After an hour or so take it up and chop it and mix it with an equal quantity of seasoned bread crumbs and a small cup of chopped nuts. Heap this in the shell and bake it with a covering of crumbs and butter. It is just as nourishing as meat and not so heavy, though it is a distinctly substantial dish. Of course you must be careful to get a very cheap eggplant, or you save nothing, but I am supposing now you live where gardens are plenty; perhaps you can walk out and pick one in your own. "To go with the meats, possibly we can find some spring vegetables that cost no more than winter ones would. Naturally we cannot buy asparagus, nor yet new peas, but I fancy we may pick up some cheap new beets or carrots. If not, we will just go on having winter ones, but we will try and serve them in vegetable croquettes, or cream them and bake them with crumbs for a change. And then we can certainly have greens of ever so many kinds, and nothing is more wholesome in the spring than greens." "I simply despise them," said Dolly with a sniff of disdain. "You will not despise mine, my child; I learned how to cook them in Paris and they are good enough for an epicure. Write down my words of wisdom on this subject. Take any sort of green thing you can get, beet-tops, spinach, sorrel, lettuce, escarole or cress; wash them well in several waters, and do not drain them very dry; put them in a covered saucepan without water, and turn and press them well from time to time till the juice flows. Take them up then and put them twice through the meat-chopper; never try and chop them in a bowl or they will not be good, but instead, coarse and stringy. After they are a smooth pulp, put them on the fire, and add seasoning generously: salt, pepper, lemon juice or a very little vinegar, and a little cream if you have it. With sorrel, which is the very best of all greens, do not put in any acid; with spinach, add a little nutmeg. Then, when the whole has cooked for five minutes, take it up, put it in a very hot dish, and serve at once; you will have a new dish you will certainly like." "How about potatoes?" inquired Dolly after she had written this down and marked it with a star as "extra good." "No new potatoes for us, I suppose?" "Unluckily, no. I hate to keep on using old ones, but I always do until that happy day when I find the price is exactly the same for new or old; then I change over. But do not have potatoes all the time; boiled rice is cheaper when you are cutting down expenses. And when you can buy some vegetable cheaper than potatoes, have neither, but have two fresh vegetables instead. That makes a good change in spring and summer." "And how about salads?" "Just as soon as you find young dandelion leaves and cress and cheap lettuce, cut off soups and have those instead. But do not buy them unless you can really save money by doing so; there is a danger you may not think of. Usually soups are cheaper." "And desserts?" "Eggs are cheap just now, so depend somewhat on them. That is, make a sweet omelet of two, for one night, and for another have prune puff. For that you take the white of one egg, sweeten it and mix with the pulp of half a dozen cooked prunes; chill this and serve it in glasses. Or, put it in small brown baking-dishes and put it in the oven for five minutes, and serve it hot in the same dishes. "Have a sweet soufflé sometimes, too. Beat the white of two eggs light, fold in a little powdered sugar, and put it in a buttered dish with spoonfuls of jam or orange marmalade dropped in here and there. Set this in a hot oven as you go to dinner, and it will be just ready when it is time for dessert. "The next night after you have had either of these, have baked custard. Mix the slightly beaten egg yolks with a little milk and sugar, and put them in cups or small moulds and bake them in a pan of water. You can vary them by putting in jam or by making the sugar into caramel, or adding a little bit of rice. Or, use up the yolks by having them scrambled with milk for breakfast. "And if you live in the country, Dolly, have lots of rhubarb for spring desserts. You can serve it one day in a deep tart with pie-crust on top, and little tartlets made from the left-overs. On another you stew it in a little water, and put in the sugar as it is just done, because it does not take as much then as if it went in at first. Then, while it is hot, add enough dissolved gelatine to set the whole and pour it into a mould. Serve with part of the juice as a sauce, which you kept out on purpose. "Speaking of this jelly suggests also coffee jelly and prune jelly and things of that kind, for they do not take butter or eggs; but I rather think I told you of those when we were studying desserts. However, I can remind you of them now, can't I? "When strawberries are cheap, get one boxful and divide it. Serve part the first one night with a plain soft corn-starch pudding. The second night, slightly crush the rest and sweeten them. Make just a little bit of baking-powder biscuit dough and mould several rather thin biscuits; bake these, split them, and put in the berries between two layers, and you have nice individual shortcakes. In that way one box will make two desserts, while otherwise you might not find it enough. Of course if you had a garden you could go out and pick some berries and serve them in their natural state, but I am telling you how to manage if you have not such luxuries as home-grown fruit. "When we speak of cheap desserts, our mind naturally reverts to bread pudding, and we have already had that once. But to cut down its expense, serve it in small moulds instead of in one large one; individual dishes are a great economy for any sort of thing. And try having boiled rice croquettes with raisins in them; and have farina croquettes, too, cooked rather brown, and if possible covered with scraped maple sugar. Don't you think we might leave desserts now? I told you so much about them when we went over the subject." "Yes, you may go on to breakfasts and luncheons if you have finished dinners. Can you really economize on those? It seems to me we have reduced them to their lowest terms already." "Well, we have, just about. But for breakfasts I should cut out fruit altogether for a time, and make a breakfast of hot cereal, coffee and toast, or some good sort of muffin that did not take too many eggs. In winter you can have a hearty meal of fried corn-meal mush; you can either make that the day before you want it and slice and fry it in the morning, or you can stir it up and boil it freshly just before breakfast and fry spoonfuls of it while it is soft. I like it best that way myself, but you can try both ways. In summer you can have an excellent breakfast of cold cereals." "They sound horrid." "They are not horrid at all, but very good; we will begin to have them ourselves as soon as it gets warm enough. And besides cereals, I should see if I could not have some cheap hot breakfast dish to alternate with them; I suppose milk toast, or if you live where milk is plenty, cream toast, and codfish in lots of ways, especially in baked potatoes, or mixed with mashed potato in small dishes. Sometimes I should have codfish in fritters; brown puffy fritters, not flat greasy cakes. And I should have clams in that way, too, if they were cheap." "How about luncheons, now? Did you say you could or could not cut down on those?" "I think we cannot do much better than we have done, but I should keep trying all the time. I should have fried bread with jelly to eat on it, and baked beans, and farina cakes, and minced vegetables, hot or in salad. And in summer I should have creamed corn or peas on toast, and lots of salads of plain cooked vegetables. But be very careful not to try and cut down on your luncheons by doing without substantial dishes. No woman who does her own work can long keep up on bread and tea at noon without getting sallow and thin and anaemic; you simply must not try and economize on nourishing food, even though you cut down on everything expensive. Starvation is poor management." "Well, leaving meals for a moment, do you try and cut down on other things, such as coffee, for example? Do you have a poorer quality to save money?" "Never. I must have good coffee at any rate. But I will tell you what I do right along. I go to a very good grocery, one of the largest and most expensive sort, and there I ask for a good kind of coffee which is not as expensive as their highest grades. You will be astonished to find that all such places make a specialty of coffee which actually costs less than you can buy it for at your regular grocery, and it is infinitely better, too. One famous place keeps coffee for thirty-five and forty cents a pound and even more, and at the same time recommends what they call their 'best' coffee, at nineteen cents! It seems absurd, but that is a fact. I always use it, and it is the best I can buy. Never use cheap coffee, Dolly; it is horrid, just as bad butter is, or bad tea, or bad eggs. Go without, or have them good." "Mary, did you ever think what you would do if you had to live on just a few cents a day? I have often wondered whether I could manage or not. Suppose for a time you had practically nothing at all, how would you manage then?" "I suppose I should plan to have things to eat that would give the maximum of nourishment for the minimum of cost. Let me see. I should have corn-meal mush for one breakfast, because that contains fat and is very nourishing. For another, I should have boiled rice, I think. For luncheons I should have split pea purée, or a thick bean soup. For dinner I should have a dish of creamed codfish, let us say; or, I should have whole wheat bread and a baked apple instead of the fish. And I should have macaroni and cheese, too. I know people who have tried these things say you can live easily on beans and lentils and whole wheat bread and a certain amount of fruit, apples or bananas or figs, and I can quite believe it. Of course, if only one could have plenty of milk, the rest would be easy." "Easy, but not pleasant. I should hate to have to have such monotonous food, so I hope Fred's income will never be less. I like a pretty dinner table and a dainty dinner. Cereals may be all very well as to nourishment for the body, but I think the spirit suffers. I don't mean spirit, either, exactly. But you get the idea, don't you?" "The general poetry of life, I suppose you have in mind. The dinner table with candles and china and glass and good things to eat gives an air of refinement to life. Well, I agree with you that they are worth having, too. We can economize in the food, but we cannot dispense with the graces of the dinner." "If we cut down too much, you see I am afraid things will not be quite as nice as I like to have them." "I don't believe in doing it all at once, but in cutting down a trifle here and another there, day by day, till you can afford better things. I am sure it would give one a most uncomfortable moral jar to suddenly drop from very comfortable living to lentils, or to anything corresponding with your idea of the 'scrags of mutton' which you are perpetually holding up as the very embodiment of inelegance! Better not go in for too much luxury any one day; have things economically nice right along and save a little margin so you will not have to cut down at all. Unless, indeed, you cut for entertaining, as we are doing now; then do it imperceptibly, and don't tell of it, and all will go well. "And now that is my last word. I find reducing expenses has a most exhausting effect on me. Let's go down-town and lark a bit and refresh our jaded spirits, and when we feel equal to it, we will come back and cook up a dinner that will not cost half as much as it will seem to cost, judging by its looks and taste." CHAPTER XI Luncheons for a Little One morning, after two weeks of close economy, the bank on the kitchen mantel was emptied and the sisters received the reward of their savings. There were not only pennies, but dimes and even quarters; quite enough to ensure the financial success of the luncheons they had planned for. "Ah, we are evidently safe, now," said Dolly as she poured the money out in her lap. "Here's richness! I seem to hear broilers cackling; or don't fowls cackle in the spring-time of their youth? Anyway, there is no doubt we can afford to have some of them for our parties." "Indeed we cannot. Not broilers, my dear girl; they are not for the likes of us. But we shall have some other good things, at least. And isn't it fine to have the money ahead instead of having to catch up later on when we have forgotten all about the occasion?" moralized Mrs. Thorne complacently. "I don't mind economizing beforehand, but I just hate to, afterwards. Now for our menus. I think we will begin with a luncheon for four only. Next week we will go on to six, and possibly we will have eight, later; still, I am not sure about it, for six is all we can really manage to serve easily. Suppose we take turns writing out what we will have." "I'll begin," Dolly said. "A simple luncheon for four, you said; I certainly ought to be able to manage that by this time. Let me see." This is what she presently produced: Cream of spinach soup. Lamb chops; new potatoes; peas in crusts; tea. Asparagus salad with mayonnaise. Strawberry ices. "That does very well indeed," said Mrs. Thorne as she took the paper and read over the menu. "My only criticism is on the chops; those cost a good deal, and especially in the spring, when the lamb is small." "I meant to have old lamb," interrupted Dolly. "Yes, but even so, I think chops for a luncheon of four cost too much. Why not substitute strips of veal, breaded? I know a delicious way of cooking those, and they are ever so much cheaper." "All right," said Dolly. "Veal strips it is. How about that dessert?" "Strawberries are only nine cents a box now; those will be all right. And we will have a perfectly delicious salad of that asparagus; that is, we will if it does not go up in price before the luncheon. It has such a queer way in town of getting cheaper one day and more expensive the next. Now for our two invitations. We won't write them, but just run in and ask Mrs. Hays and Mrs. Curtis informally, as it is to be such a very simple affair." "Yes. I wait on the table, I suppose?" Dolly inquired gloomily. Her sister laughed. "You do, or I do; it is all the same. But how absurd to think of that! It makes things all the more homelike. You see, you are not used to it; if you were, you would not mind a bit." "You make me think of the eels who didn't mind being skinned at all--not when they got used to it. But I agree for this time, and when you have the larger luncheon you will get the waitress, won't you?" "I truly will," promised Mrs. Thorne. The day of the luncheon found some changes in the meal that had been planned. Asparagus had suddenly taken on a higher price, as they had feared, and they had to do without it. Instead they had lettuce and cheese and nut balls, the latter made by mixing cream cheese and chopped nuts into balls the size of a hickory nut. These were laid in cup-shaped lettuce leaves and French dressing poured over at the last. The table was laid with the doilies and fern dish of every day, but a festive look was given to it when yellow sprays of genesta were stuck among the ferns. A bread and butter plate stood at the top of each pretty place-plate by the tumbler and a napkin at the side; one knife, and soup spoon lay at the right, and a spoon for tea, two forks at the left, and a dessert spoon across the top of the plate. Just before luncheon the soup was taken up and put in hot cups, and the strips of veal, the potatoes and peas in the crusts were arranged on hot plates. All these were put in the warming oven, and fresh parsley stood ready in a cup of water on the table, to be added at the last moment. On the sideboard in the dining-room was the salad and the tea tray; the glasses for the dessert were ready in the kitchen, each one standing on a small plate. The soup was put on before the guests came to the table. After it was eaten Dolly rose and got the hot, filled plates from the oven and put them on the sideboard; then she merely exchanged a hot plate with the food on it for the plate holding the soup cup. There was no delay or confusion, and no passing, so this went off easily, while Mary poured the tea from the tray her sister set before her. The same arrangement was made with the salad; this was already served on the sideboard, and the hot plate on the table was exchanged for the cold one with the lettuce. After this course everything was taken off and the table crumbed. Then, while an animated conversation covered the pause, Dolly went to the kitchen and took the strawberry mousse from its pail in the tireless stove, being thankful as she did so that she did not have to dive into an ice-cream freezer and extract a wet, icy mould and half freeze her hands. She quickly put a heaping spoonful of the cream in each glass, put on one of the big berries which had been saved on purpose, and carried all four glasses in on a small tray, putting this on the sideboard and serving one at a time from there. "I did not mind waiting at all," Dolly said, after the guests had gone. "I suppose it was because luncheon is such an informal meal anyway; or rather, it is supposed to be. I think I believe in doing a good deal as the English do both at breakfast and luncheon--have things on the sideboard and let the guests help themselves from there if they choose. However, I flatter myself I did pretty well, to-day. You noticed, I hope, that I left the room only twice, once to get the meat course, and once for the dessert, and no one seemed to pay any attention." "You did beautifully. You had 'the noiseless tread' the perfect maid is supposed to possess and so seldom actually does have. You see you can get along very well by yourself. Really, if one has everything possible on the sideboard or on the serving table, and will serve the main course ready prepared on plates, there is nothing simpler than a luncheon. Now that we have tea served with the main course quite as often as coffee at the end, that too makes things easy, for with a ready prepared tray one can always manage passing the cups to a few women, and if there is nothing else on the table there can be no confusion." "And what did it cost?" Dolly inquired, getting out her book. "Soup: I got a quart of milk for that, and used a little spinach left over from the night before; I got a little extra on purpose when I was buying it. Then I had a third of the milk left still for the potatoes. The soup was about .07. There was three-quarters of a pound of the veal, .21. By the way, did you see me cook that? I pounded it well to ensure its being tender, and then I breaded it twice over." "I thought you always breaded things twice." "I mean I breaded it four times. I dipped each piece in crumbs, then in egg, then in crumbs, just as usual; then I laid it away till this dried, and repeated the process. Last of all I fried it in the wire basket in deep fat, and the result was a thick rich crust over veal as tender as chicken. That is the way the Germans cook it, and I think it is awfully good. "Then the potatoes, those were only .05. The peas, half a can, at .15; I used only half, because by putting them in bread-crusts they not only look prettier, but go much further. The other half of the can we shall have for dinner to-night, mixed with chopped carrots. The salad, lettuce, cheese, nuts and dressing were .25. The mousse took only a bottle of cream, a quarter of a pint,--.12,--and the ice to freeze it was .05. I put in only half a box of the berries at .12, and the rest go in the shortcake for to-night. The almonds were only a handful. I got half a pound and used only half of those; four people do not consume so many as six do, I find. So altogether, and allowing a margin for staples, you see it comes out only a little over $1.00--say about $1.25." "Perfectly absurd! I supposed it cost to have a luncheon, and it doesn't. I shall live in a perpetual round of gaiety, entertaining seven days a week, at this same rate. Now when will you have another?" "Next week, I think. This second one will have to cost more, however, for we shall have two more people in, and must give them rather a better meal, or rather, a more elaborate meal. Shall we have the little maid?" "Oh, well--never mind. I suppose I must learn to do my own waiting if I am to begin as I must keep on afterward. No, I'll wait, Mary." When they came to write out the menu for this second luncheon, they again put down asparagus. "I'm afraid we shall be doomed to disappointment, but I hope we may be able to find some that is cheap," sighed Mrs. Thorne. "Nothing makes such a good company salad." "A little voice within me tells me we shall get it for almost nothing," said her sister comfortably; "put it down, Mary." This was the menu for the luncheon: Strawberries. Cream of beet soup. Salmon cutlets; creamed potatoes; peas; tea. Asparagus salad with French dressing. Café parfait. "But why is the main course fish instead of meat?" Dolly inquired anxiously, as she read it over. "Oh, at luncheon I often have a substantial fish course as a main one; salmon is just what we want, and in the spring I like it better than a meat, anyway. You will see that it is all right. Besides, it is cheap!" "I suspected as much. Canned, then, of course." "Yes, my dear, canned, and very good; wait and see!" This time the centrepiece was the fern dish as usual, but small white flowers were stuck in the earth all through the ferns, and the effect was beautifully fresh. For the meal, the strawberries were laid on small plates on paper doilies in a circle, with the hulls turned in; in the middle lay a little heap of powdered sugar. A finger-bowl stood above the plate, and this was left on all through the luncheon. In removing this course Dolly merely took off the berry plates, leaving the service plates beneath them on the table and putting the soup cups on these next; later on she substituted the hot, filled plates for both service plate and cup at once. The salmon was picked over, mixed with a stiff white sauce, seasoned, and then cooled for an hour. The paste which resulted was cut in strips, moulded into oval, chop-shaped pieces, and crumbed as usual; these were again dried, and last fried a golden brown in deep fat; then a paper frill was stuck into each one to represent a chop bone. They were laid on the hot plates and a spoonful of peas and one potato added. As Mary predicted, the guests were fully satisfied, and never missed meat. The asparagus materialized for the salad, to their delight. It was cooked, chilled, laid on lettuce, and a French dressing poured over just before it was passed. The mousse, or parfait, was made as before, but the flavoring of coffee was a cupful left from breakfast, boiled with the sugar in the place of the water usually cooked with it. "If that luncheon was not expensive, then I am indeed an ignoramus," said Dolly, when they began to figure out its cost. "It tasted expensive, Mary." "It was that horrid asparagus. Why did you let me buy it, Dolly? I am truly sorry I did, for like you, I suspect we have spent too much. Let us see. "Strawberries--a whole box this time. Luckily they are cheaper, however; they cost .10. The soup was much as before: left-over beets and three quarters of a quart of milk; put down .06. Salmon, one can, .25; peas, one can, .15; potatoes, only .05, thank goodness! Asparagus, .30, and right in the height of the season, too; it's absurd. Lettuce, .05. Parfait, say, .20. So, allowing a margin as before, it was about $1.30. Oh, well, that is not as bad as I feared. Six people, too! But then, this time we had almonds left over, and Dick gave me the chocolates we had on the table. We must be careful, anyway, even if this once we have not overrun." The third luncheon again had but six guests, as Dolly was perfectly sure she could not wait on more. This time they were gay young women who were accustomed to all sorts of elaborate functions, and Dolly secretly dreaded her part. They, however thought it great fun to go to an informal meal cooked by one sister and served by another, and eat few and simple dishes beautifully cooked; so far from criticizing, they rather envied the two hostesses their ability to carry off the affair with ease and charm. The menu was planned very thoughtfully. They wanted things rather prettier than ever, and yet they must avoid extravagance. They decided on this: Bouillon with whipped cream. Creamed fish. Chicken croquettes; creamed peas; potatoes; chocolate with marshmallows. Pineapple salad, cream cheese and wafers. Vanilla mousse with strawberries. "Five courses," commented Dolly as the last was set down. "And chicken croquettes! I call that elegance." "Five courses, because we omitted the fruit before the soup, as we had it before, and because fish is cheap and makes a good second course; it sounds more elaborate than it really is. Now for our table: do you suppose we could get some violets from the country? They make such a lovely centrepiece." "Of course we can. Let's ask the milkman to get us some." This proved a lucky thought, for the milkman had a small boy who promised to get a quantity of wood violets and send them in early in the morning by his father all tied up in bunches, and all for twenty-five cents. Of course these were not fragrant like hothouse violets, but they had quite as beautiful a color. A lovely table was arranged with a low basket of the violets edged with a heavy band of their own leaves; a couple of small glass dishes held some violet-colored candies, and the finger-bowls which came on with the dessert had a couple of violets in each, so that the effect of the meal was springlike. The bouillon was made the day before it was needed, out of bones and odds and ends of meat; it was clarified, colored a good brown with kitchen bouquet, and well seasoned. The spoonful of whipped cream on the hot soup gave a touch of richness to it. The fish was merely a little plain fresh cod, boiled the day before the luncheon, then picked up in the morning, mixed with white sauce, put in individual dishes, with crumbs on top, and browned in the oven. The croquettes were made out of a small-sized can of chicken of the best brand. This was a genuine stroke of economy, for the cost was just half of what the very toughest and oldest fowl would have been. By taking it out of the tin in good season, picking it up and letting it lie in the air till the oxygen lost in canning had been re-absorbed, its flavor was largely restored, and when the croquettes were made and came to the table, golden brown without, creamy within and deliciously seasoned, no one suspected the artifice used in making them. They were served with the peas and potato as before; peas were a staple for luncheon, Mrs. Thorne thought. This time the potatoes were not creamed, however, but cut in balls with a cutter and dropped in fat till they were browned. Instead of tea with this course, there was chocolate, served from the pot on the table, and in each cup was dropped, last of all, one marshmallow, which puffed and melted in the steaming heat and gave a delightful flavor. After this course, instead of exchanging the plates for others filled with salad, Dolly altered the plan of service. She took off all the plates and left the table bare. Then she set on the salad in front of her sister; it was so pretty that she wished every one to see it. They had bought two pineapples, which were cheap just then. One was of moderate size, and the other the very smallest they could find; a perfect baby of a pineapple. The larger one had been peeled, picked up in bits and laid on lettuce on a flat glass dish. The little one was not peeled, but had its brush cut off with a slice from the top; the centre was scooped out till only a shell remained, and this was wiped dry and filled with a stiff mayonnaise; the brush was put on again, and the pineapple put on a plate with the ladle by its side. In serving, Mary put a portion of the lettuce and pineapple on a plate, and removed the cover of the new mayonnaise dish by lifting it by the brush and laying it on the plate; then she added a spoonful of mayonnaise, and Dolly passed the plates for her. This salad was a great success. Last of all came the vanilla mousse, each glass topped by a big strawberry. A few berries had also been sliced and mixed with the mousse as she put it in the glasses. "That was the best luncheon yet," said Dolly as they discussed the affair. "Really, I was proud of the table it was so pretty with those violets. I don't know why it is, but lay a table with pretty white doilies and put on violets, and somehow it has a most gorgeous appearance. Then the luncheon itself was good, thanks to your cooking, Mary; I would not have been ashamed to have had anybody in the world drop in--not even a queen! Now what did it cost?" "The flowers, .25," figured Mrs. Thorne aloud, writing it down as she did so. "Soup, about .05; I have been saving bones for that for days. Fish, half a pound, .09; chicken, .25; peas and potatoes, .20; chocolate and marshmallows, about .10. Salad, two pineapples, one .15 and one .05, and lettuce and mayonnaise, about .30; mousse and berries,--half a box of berries,--about .20. Then almonds and candies and crackers, and the little margin bring it up to, say $1.75. That is much more, Dolly, than we have spent yet." "Yes, but it's the last one of the season, and think how good it all was!" "I know, but if we were going on we should have to cut down on things. However, I don't mind this once, as we had money enough for it. Now while you have your book there, do you not think it would be a good idea to write out some more possible luncheons like those we have had, and average the price, so you can have some sort of a guide to go by? We can easily make out some menus for each season in the year, since you are so determined to have them right along." "Blessings on you for the thought! Begin right away." "First copy out those we have had and mark them Spring, while I go out and start the family meal that comes next. I have bread to mix, for one thing, so give me time enough." "Four minutes is plenty for that; I'll give you just five." When they were ready, the list began with a very simple one first, headed Summer: Cream of corn soup. Frenched chops; purée of cucumber; potato croquettes; iced tea. Lettuce with peppers stuffed with string-beans; cheese balls. Ginger ice. "Just make a memorandum of that cucumber purée," said Mary as Dolly finished. "You cook the cucumbers soft in just a tiny bit of water; then season well, put them through the sieve, and serve very hot, a spoonful on each plate. It is very good indeed. The salad, too, is nice. Fill green pepper shells with tiny cooked beans, and pour French dressing over; on top of each put one white cream cheese ball, and stand on a lettuce leaf. The ice is just a plain lemon water ice, with preserved ginger cut up in it." "Now the next one," said Dolly. "Well, suppose we have two for each season. This will do for another summer one: "Cubes of watermelon in glasses. Soft shell crabs; fried tomatoes; potatoes. Yellow tomato salad on lettuce. Raspberry ice; sponge cake. Iced coffee." "Suppose you can't get crabs; what do you do then?" "Tell the grocer to order them for you in tins; they come with the shells thrown in at about thirty or forty cents a big can, which holds enough for a whole family. Instead of having the soft-shelled crabs fried, devil the canned meat and serve in the shells; it's perfectly delicious." "And whatever is yellow tomato salad? I never ate such a thing." "Don't you know those little pear-shaped yellow tomatoes you see in summer? You scald those and skin them, chill them well, lay them on lettuce, and put on French dressing. Or, you can have mayonnaise with them, if you like. It's a nice change from the usual salad, and it will not interfere with your having fried tomatoes with the main course, for they neither look or taste alike." "Very well; now the next one." "Mark this Autumn. Suppose we have melons first; "Little melons, halved. Tomato bisque. Strips of veal, breaded; creamed chestnuts; spiced peaches; coffee. Salad of red peppers filled with cauliflower. Pêche Melba. "Cut the melons in halves, Dolly, and chill them, but mind you don't put ice inside, to make them watery and horrid. And pick out little melons, spicy green ones. Get the big Italian chestnuts to serve with the veal, if you can. Cook and peel them, and leave the inside skins on; then just cream them. If you can't get those, use ordinary ones, and put them through the sieve like a purée; they taste just as well. The salad is very pretty. Cut the tops off the red peppers and take out the inside exactly as you did with the green ones; cook the cauliflower, pick it up in flowerets, and mix with French dressing and fill the peppers. If you wish to be perfectly grand, cook a carrot, cut it up into tiny dice, and put a few on top of each; the colors are lovely together. Serve these on lettuce, of course. Then the dessert. Halve nice peaches, peel them, and put one half on a round of sponge cake for each person. Fill the middle with a spoonful of plain ice-cream, and add a little bit of candied cherry if you have any." "One more for Autumn; two for each season except Spring,--I have three for that," said Dolly complacently. "Try this: "Cream of Lima bean soup. Filets of fish; white sauce; potato balls; stuffed tomatoes. Lettuce and grape salad. Frozen peaches. Coffee. "That needs no explaining, I am sure. Have sauce tartare instead of white sauce with the fish if you can afford it, Dolly, for it's better. And serve the peaches in glasses, just a little to each person; they will be cheap, anyway, at that time of year. Now for winter; that is the most difficult time to entertain in, to my thinking." "Still, we must entertain," said Dolly inflexibly. "Then try this: "Clam soup. Creamed chicken; peas in crusts; sweet potato puff; tea. Celery and nut salad with mayonnaise. Little cakes filled with ice-cream." "Very good! And as I can make all those things, go right on while the inspiration holds." "Bouillon. Fried oysters with sauce tartare; French fried potatoes; creamed celery. Banana and peanut salad. Chocolate mousse. Coffee." "How do you make that salad?" "Peel the bananas and cut them in halves crosswise; cut off also the pointed end to make each one look like a croquette; then roll them in chopped peanuts and lay them on lettuce. Pass mayonnaise with them." "That's easy enough," Dolly said as she scribbled it down. "And that is the whole set already. I wish you would go on and do me a lot more, Mary; you do them like a lightning calculator." "Why did I go to all the trouble to teach you that Game of Menus, I'd like to know, if this is the result? Not another one will I furnish you; just write out a lot yourself." "Well, but don't rush away like that! Tell me how much these are going to cost?" "I planned for a dollar and a quarter apiece for six people. That leaves a margin, and you can put as much or as little in addition in flowers and such extravagances as you choose. I do not think any luncheon will cost more than my estimate; if it does, I'll pay the difference." "Then I'm certain it will not cost one cent more," said Dolly with decision. "That remark settles the matter for me. I know too well you would never make the offer if you were not sure and certain." CHAPTER XII In the Country "A letter from Aunt Maria," said Mr. Thorne, who had met the postman at the door at breakfast time. "Dear old lady! I wonder whether she can be coming to make us a good long visit." His wife looked up from the coffee cups with dismay. "Don't suggest such a thing," she remonstrated. "Remember that last three months visit. Of course she will not come again for years." Dolly looked inquiringly at her sister. "Aunt Maria? I think I recall something about a visit from such a relative." "Of course you do," said her brother. "She came and found Mary was keeping house all wrong, and kindly tried to show her how it should be done. She insisted on boiled dinners and pie for me at night, and doughnuts every morning for breakfast. When at last she showed signs of getting ready to go home, I entreated her to stay longer, and it is my fondest dream to have her back; indeed, I want her to make her home with us permanently." "Do hurry up and read the letter, Dick. If she says she is coming here, I warn you in advance that Dolly can keep house. I shall go off and make some visits." After a brief glance at the page Mr. Thorne waved the letter about his head. "Glory, glory!" he chanted. "Listen to this and think shame to your inhospitable selves. "'My dear Nephew:--I have decided to go West and spend the summer with your great-aunt Eliza. I write to say that, as I do not care to close the cottage, I shall be pleased to have you and Mary spend two or three months in it. I recall that though your ways of keeping house in the city seemed strange to me, still Mary did have things tidy, so I am quite willing to have her here in my absence. I shall go next week, and you can come any time after that. My regards to your wife. "'Your affectionate aunt, "'Maria Hancock.'" Mary beamed as she listened. "Dear old thing," she said when her husband laid down the letter; "there's a reward for all my sufferings while she was here. Dolly, she has a darling little house only an hour's ride from town; and a garden, my dear, a garden! We can have a lovely cool time all summer, and eat our own vegetables. Think of it." "Yes, Dolly, I seem to smell the delicious, soul-satisfying odor of those onions now," said Dick, luxuriously closing his eyes. "Young ones, Dolly, strong and spicy. We shall have them for breakfast in the morning and for dinner at night, and I shall have a light lunch of them with bread and butter at bedtime; there's nothing like onions for insomnia. Sundays, of course, I shall have them four times. Dear, dear Aunt Maria!" "Hush, Dick; don't spoil all our pleasure with such horrid suggestions. Is it really a nice place, Mary?" "Nice! It's heavenly. Not much society, you know, just a plain little country village, but cool and lovely. We will wear our oldest gowns, and do up fruit, and have our breakfasts on the porch, and just revel." "Cherry pie," murmured Mr. Thorne, who was apparently eating his breakfast in a sort of waking dream. "And apple pie; rhubarb pie, too, and currant pie; strawberry pie and gooseberry pie also. Dear Aunt Maria!" "You can cut the grass nights after you get home, Dick," said his wife; "and you can get up early and pull the weeds in the garden and water things. And on half-holidays you can saw wood; I remember Aunt Maria said she had a wood-stove. It will give you just the exercise you need, and be a pleasant change for you from office work." "Mary," said Dick, rising suddenly from the table, "don't detain me with such frivolous ideas when I am in such a hurry as I am in this morning. However, I must pause long enough to say that I am to have extra hours this summer, and no half-holidays, so that it will not do for you to depend upon me to pull weeds or cut grass. You had better plan to do those little things yourselves." "He may joke all he likes," smiled his wife as the dining-room door closed after her husband, "but he is as delighted as we are over the prospect. We will go the very minute Aunt Maria leaves the house. It seems as though I couldn't wait till then." In ten days the little apartment was ready to be closed for the summer and the trunks stood in the hallway. Mrs. Thorne was taking a parting glance all around. "I have just one regret in leaving," she said to Dolly. "That is, that we have had no time to try and sub-let this place. I have known ever so many people who went away in summer and rented their apartments to people who wanted to come to the city and study in the college or take a course in art, or something of the sort. Often you can find half a dozen nice girls who want to do their own housekeeping in a furnished flat, and then, you see, I would have let them have this for exactly the same rent as we pay and so have saved a lot. Of course, as we do not pay rent in the country, there is no additional expense, but still I cannot help mourning over the 'might have been.' Remember, Dolly, to try and get a good tenant when you move out temporarily." By afternoon of the next day the family was settled in the little cottage. It was a plain, old house with a low roof, and the furnishings were largely of hair-cloth, and the pictures enlarged crayon portraits of deceased relatives, or wreaths of wax flowers encased in glass. Still, the porch was shaded with vines, and the flowers grew luxuriantly in the little yard in front, and back of the house was what Mary declared was "a perfect dream" of a vegetable garden, with rows of currant and raspberry bushes along the fence and a group of fruit trees in a tiny orchard further off. Altogether, it was just what filled their needs. "The kitchen, however, does not suit me a bit," declared Dolly after the rest of the house had been examined and pronounced quite comfortable, and roomy enough for a servantless ménage. "Well, it isn't up to our modern notions, to be sure," said her sister, looking critically around. "Everything is as clean as wax, as I had expected, but an unpainted sink needs lots of scrubbing, and a wood-stove needs blacking, and also constant stoking. Dear me, how horrid it is to have to burn wood after gas! But never mind; I ought to be ashamed to say such a thing in view of our mercies. Keep your mind on the garden, Dolly, and such things as scrubbing will be forgotten." "And no bread-mixer," Dolly went on, investigating the pantry shelves, "and no egg-beater and no cream-whipper! My dear, we must pack up our trunks and go straight back to town. We will be worn to a frazzle in a week working in Aunt Maria's ways." "Don't worry," said Mrs. Thorne placidly. "Those things are all in the big barrel I packed while you were off shopping day before yesterday. I forgot to tell you. I knew we would have to eke out in such things. As to the bread-mixer, one of my unpardonable sins, in Aunt Maria's eyes, was that I made bread in one, so I knew in advance that I must bring mine along." "And did you buy a kerosene-stove, too?" "Yes, I did! I was going to surprise you with it, however, and I wish you hadn't asked. I just boldly took the price out of Incidentals, knowing that we should save mints of money on vegetables this summer and I could put the amount back on our return to town in September." "And all those groans over the stove-stoking we were going to do were words, idle words!" Mrs. Thorne laughed gaily. "Just low comedy," she said. "And now for our meals. What shall we have for dinner to-night? We shall have to go down-town and buy some butter and eggs and coffee and such things, and bring them back, too; we must not expect city service here." They decided that this first night it would be foolish to try and have a regular dinner, so when Mr. Thorne came home he found a supper table set out on the porch, and a little meal arranged of parsley omelet, creamed potatoes, and coffee, followed by strawberries and cream. It was the very poetry of living to sit leisurely in the growing dusk under the vines and listen to the soft country noises. The family then and there decided to take their meals out-of-doors all summer. "The neighbors will think we are crazy," said Mr. Thorne placidly. "They will write to Aunt Maria and tell her we are disgracing her hearthstone. No well conducted villagers would think of doing such a thing as eating on a porch when there was a dining-room with a black walnut table and six chairs in their proper places. They will not consider us respectable, my dears!" "I can't help it if they don't like it, and I don't believe it would surprise Aunt Maria in the least if she heard of it; I think she would say she had no doubt I was quite capable of doing something even as outlandish as this. But in spite of everything, we certainly shall have our meals out-of-doors except on blazing hot noons, and on rainy nights. So there!" Mr. Thorne was entirely right in the estimation put on the family by the neighbors, but nevertheless they ate, and rejoiced that they could eat under the vines on the porch all summer long. The second day they took account of what their garden could be depended on to give them. They found string-beans in plenty, radishes, potatoes, spinach and beets. Lettuce was almost ready; peas and corn progressing nicely, and later on there would be cucumbers and tomatoes and eggplant. Last of all, squashes and melons might be looked for. They could scarcely believe all this wealth was to be theirs for the picking. "But the weeding, don't forget that!" said Dolly, as she heard her sister's exclamation. "I somehow don't seem to fancy the idea of weeding this place. At least, I don't yearn to begin." "I think we had better have a regular weeding boy; we can pay him in vegetables." "He will not take them; everybody has vegetables here." "Then we will pay him in dollars and cents,--mostly cents. Of course we can't do the weeding ourselves, except casually and at odd minutes, and I foresee that Dick will never do a bit. I shall take the money out of what we would spend on food at home, our dollar a day. Weeding is a legitimate expense, but you know how I hate to break into Incidentals, and we can easily save here." "There's the washing and ironing, remember. You have got to pay for those, you know. I wonder whether they will be a great deal here." "Those will be less than in town; we can have the wash-lady scrub up the floors too." "And there is milk." "That will be less, too. In town we have to pay eight cents a bottle, and in some places it is more than that; here, I fancy, it will be about six cents a quart." "And there is ice; or do they use ice in the country?" "Yes, they cut it on the river near here; but it is not always good or abundant. I rather think we cannot use it recklessly; I have known the supply to give out in the middle of the summer when there was a short crop cut." "And is it cheap?" "About as much as in town, I think; that is the way usually." "What do you think about meat? Did you see the butcher shop when we came up from the station?" "Yes, and I did not like its looks a bit better than I see you did. But perhaps we need not buy our meat there, if we do not like it better when we go inside and look around. There may be a meat-wagon that comes around." "I think meat-wagons are horrid; they are never clean." "Not to our city eyes, you mean. Well, we shall see. Perhaps there is a model cart with everything spick and span, and driver in a white jacket; who knows?" One morning, when they had quite settled down to housekeeping, Mary got out the best preserving-kettle, after the breakfast dishes were done, and presently the weeding boy appeared with a big basket of strawberries which had been ordered the day before, as the garden bed must not be entirely picked off. "Now for some delicious strawberry preserves," the cook observed as she began vigorously to stem them. "Get out my book, Dolly, and copy down for yourself that recipe marked 'Strawberries; unfailing.' I got it from a Danish woman once, and it is the best I ever saw. The fruit looks like rich German berries, the kind that come done up in glass and cost a dollar a bottle, and they never lose color or spoil; they keep for years." So Dolly read and wrote out: "'Get firm, large berries, and stem but do not wash them. Weigh three-quarters of a pound of sugar to each pound of fruit, and arrange them in layers in your kettle; cover and let them stand all night (or if the weather is very hot and damp, do this in the early morning and cook them toward night). The next morning put the kettle on and bring the berries slowly to the boiling point and skim them. Simmer exactly fifteen minutes and take the kettle off the fire; cover it with a thin cloth and let it stand all night without moving. In the morning heat again, and skim; this time let it simmer exactly ten minutes and take off the kettle; drain off the juice and boil down for just five minutes, put the berries in, and put them in the cans and seal.' That's a queer rule," Dolly commented as she finished. "It's perfectly splendid, and we will follow it to the letter and you shall see for yourself. Now remember this important thing that I am about to tell you, for it is something you must never lose sight of when you do up fruit: the reason why any fruit spoils, when you put it in good, air-tight cans, is that you have not sterilized the cans and covers, and have not used new rubbers each year." "But just how do you sterilize cans?" "Wash them, and then put them in the oven, tops and all, and bake them half an hour. Put the rubbers in hot water for fifteen minutes and wipe them dry. And always use glass cans with glass tops fastened on with wires. When you put the fruit away, find a place for it in a cool, rather dark closet. If you do all these things, none of it will ever 'turn' or spoil." "Well, I'll impress it all on my mind. Now tell me what we are going to do up this summer, and all about it." "Currants come first. I shall make jelly of some of those, and later on we will spice them and make conserve, and mix some with raspberries for another sort of jam." "Does your jelly always 'jell?'" "Always. It has to, whether it wants to or not. Most jellies are perfectly easy to make, so you can follow a good cook-book; currant jelly is the only sort you could ever have any trouble with, and that you need not have if you follow this rule. Write down: "'Currant Jelly That Never Fails. Take currants that are barely ripe, and do not pick them just after a rain, when the juice is thin. Do not stem them or wash them, but look them over carefully and crush them in a crock with a wooden potato masher. Put them in a bag, and hang them up and let them drain all night. In the morning measure the juice and take just as much sugar, with the addition of one extra half-pint at the end; put this in the oven to heat. Put the juice on the fire and boil it twenty minutes, skimming it occasionally; then put in the hot sugar and stir till this is dissolved. Let it boil up hard just once, and take it from the fire immediately, for the jelly has come; longer boiling will prevent its ever setting. Pour it into glasses and put it in the sunshine for two days, then cover with paraffin and put it away. This is perfectly clear and of a fine flavor.'" "So it is," Mrs. Thorne added, as Dolly copied the last words. "Next let us make a sort of list of what you can put up when you are where you can get fruits cheaply in summer. When you are in town you cannot well do them by the wholesale, but a glass or a can when you can find something reasonable, such as a box of nice berries one day, and a quart of nicer plums the next, and so on." "Like winter preserves," said Dolly. "Exactly. But now, as we happen to be in clover this summer, we must do up a lot of things. I have learned to alternate the fruits, one year doing one kind and the next leaving that sort out and taking another, for variety's sake; but as you are going to divide all the fruit with me this year and have half for your very own, we must do up heaps and piles of everything. I will tell you what we can make if we choose." Dolly took her pencil again, and her sister gave her this list: "Take strawberries first; those you preserve and also make into jam. Then come cherries; like the strawberries, you use the Danish rule, taking less sugar if they are sweet, or the usual amount if they are sour. You can make spiced cherries to eat with meats, too; those are lovely. Currants you make into jelly, of course; to my mind it is the best kind of all. Then you spice them also, and make currant conserve, which is a mixture of currants, raisins and oranges, and awfully good. You also mix them with red raspberries for jam, and if you like, you make raspberry and currant jelly too. Raspberries you do up by the Danish rule, using the smaller amount of sugar, as they are sweet. Raspberry jam is very nice for a good many things, and I usually do up a good deal of that. "Then come gooseberries; those you make into jam to eat with cream cheese--home-made Bar-le-Duc, you know. And you spice them exactly as you do currants. All those rules are in your cook-book. "Pineapples you can with a good deal of sugar. Blackberries you can make into jam and jelly, and you can also can them, but to my mind they are pretty seedy except in jelly, and that is rather dark colored, not as pretty as most jellies. Still, all things are good for a change. Blueberries or huckleberries I can for tarts in winter. "Then melons come on, and you can make watermelon sweet pickles, and also citron preserves. Plums come, too, about this time, and those you merely can, making them as sweet as you like. I put up greengages and purple plums in quantities, and use them for deep tarts in winter, saving eggs, you see, in my desserts. And I also make plum jelly and spiced plums, if I can get them at a cheap price. "Peaches are your best preserve. I can them in a rather rich syrup, leaving them whole and putting in a good many kernels from their stones. Buy those carefully, for they are usually expensive. The bits left over I make into peach jam; it is the best thing for little tarts and to use with whipped cream in different ways. And of course I make spiced peaches, too. Pears I can, and I make pear conserve, out of pears, lemon and ginger-root; that is very good with cream cheese and crackers for lunch. "Quinces I use in jelly, sometimes mixing apples with it, as it is apt to be a little high flavored. I also do up a few cans of preserves, and once in awhile I make a lovely conserve of quince, grapefruit and a few oranges; that I do later in the fall. Grapes I make into jelly, and I spice a lot, too. I make a marmalade with the skins and pulp and sugar, all boiled down together; and grape conserve, made of grape pulp and oranges and raisins, is one of my choicest things. Citron you preserve; it looks exactly like pineapple. "By this time crab-apples come, and I spice some of those, and make a good deal of jelly, it is so clear and pretty. By the way, because your cook-book will not mention the fact, remember always to put half a lemon, cut up with its peel, into each kettle of hot jelly as you take it off the fire; just stir it in and leave it while you dip out the jelly. It gives a delicious flavor. And when you want geranium jelly, drop in three of four leaves of rose geranium with the lemon at the same time; you can bruise them a little if you like. Spiced crab-apple jelly is nice, too; you just add a bag of whole spices as it cooks. You see what a lot of things there are, and I am sure I could think up others if I tried. But probably you will learn more for yourself as you keep house, because every cook is experimenting nowadays, and you constantly hear of new things." "I am sure I shall love to do up fruit; it looks so pretty when it is in the glass, and you feel so rich when you see it on your shelves." "The worst of it is that it is the poetry of cooking, and all housekeepers love to do it up, love it not wisely but too well. They buy when they ought not, and put too much money in both fruit and sugar. Often they have to keep a lot over from year to year, which is not at all a good idea. So be on your guard and do not rashly buy and do up everything in sight every summer. Of course this one year, when we are economizing so in vegetables and milk, we can afford to spend more than usual in other things. Then, too, most of the fruit is right in our own garden, which is a wonderful stroke of good fortune and probably will not come our way twice. And I brought out that barrel of cans and glasses from town, so we shall not have to buy as many as we would otherwise; we shall have to buy some dozens, however, I am afraid." "Don't you think we ought to do up some fruit for Aunt Maria, Mary?" "Indeed I do. I am not sure whether she will like the idea,--though I hope she will like the fruit,--but I think we had better get out her own cans and fill them with the old-fashioned things she will be apt to enjoy, such as cherries and strawberries and quinces and watermelon rind. It will be fun to leave her some things, and goodness knows we ought to, after all we have had out of her garden." "Do you ever do up vegetables?" "I seldom have done that, but we must this year. We will do up some peas and corn and succotash, and string-beans and tomatoes, anyway." "I thought vegetables didn't keep well if you did them up yourself." "Get a good rule to begin with; you can get a perfect one by sending to Washington to the Bureau of Agriculture. Then sterilize your cans, and you won't have a bit of trouble. Spoiling used to be the bane of a housekeeper, for five times out of ten things would sour, and she could not tell what was the matter; but sterilize the cans, and you will be all right." "And do you think you save a lot by doing up vegetables?" "Of course you do--heaps of money; you can see how that is at a glance; and they are so much better than what you buy, too. Tomatoes I just peel and salt a little, and put in cans and stand them in a cold oven; then I make a fire and leave them till the tomatoes boil. I keep one extra canful ready to fill up the others from as I take them out, because they shrink a little as they cook; then I put on the covers. They come out six months later just as though they had just been gathered. You see how easy that is, especially as you scald the tomatoes instead of taking off the skin with a knife, as you do with fruits. String beans and peas I can so you would not know them from fresh ones. I pick them over and put them on in cold water and simmer them fifteen minutes; then I drain and measure them; to a quart of either I put in one level teaspoonful of salt and one of sugar, and to each four quarts one of soda; then I put them back in the kettle, just cover them with hot water, cook five minutes and can them in glass jars." "Oh, Mary, that reminds me--pickles! You haven't said a word about those." "To be sure. Well, I do up few of those, because we like sweet pickles made from fruit better than sour ones of vegetables; but you can make some tiny little cucumber pickles if you like, and chow chow, and chili sauce, and a sort of mince made of green tomatoes and cabbage and all sorts of things. You can study up on pickles, later on, and ask people who like to do them up about recipes, and decide, as time goes on, what you want. We have undertaken so much this summer that, except for chili sauce and a few jars of other things, I do not think we shall do much in the pickle line. Pickles are really not economical, because they do not serve as a food, as fruit and jellies and jams do; they are only a relish, after all. Still, they help out, especially at luncheon, so put up some when you keep house, by all means." Picking over the strawberries and starting the process of preserving them, making up jam out of the smaller and poorer berries, and a hurried trip down town for more sugar, together with getting lunch and cleaning up the kitchen after all the work was done, consumed most of the day. It was not until toward night that Mrs. Thorne began to make preparations for dinner, and then she found that the beef left by the butcher had evidently not been kept in the ice-house, but had been exposed on the counter, and it had a distinct odor which was anything but pleasant. "No wonder he drove off in such haste after he gave me the bundle," said Dolly indignantly. "Whatever shall we do, now, Mary? Go down-town for more?" "No, it's much too hot, and we are too tired. We shall have a supper of some kind. Let me see; what can we have? I'm really too used up to think." "Iced tea for one thing; that is made and ready, at least. But the kerosene-stove has got to be filled before we can cook anything, for the oil gave out just as we finished the last strawberry." Mary looked apprehensive. "It did? My dear, that was the last drop in the house, and they won't deliver anything after four o'clock. And there's not a single stick of wood sawed, either, for that miserable boy, who promised to come back after handing in the berries, has never appeared at all." "What will you do? Dick is sure to come home ravenous." "There's the chafing-dish, blessings on it! And the alcohol bottle is full; even if all the other fuels have given out, that remains. We will stir up something in that and have a salad. Always have a chafing-dish, Dolly; there are times when life would not be worth living without it." The emergency shelf of the pantry yielded a can of salmon, and this was drained and the bones removed, and a white sauce made for it in one of the pans of the dish. It was to be reheated and the fish put in it in the chafing-dish on the table. With this was to be bread and butter and iced tea. "For a salad, Dolly, get those string-beans I cooked and set away this morning. Put them on lettuce and add French dressing; that will be very nice. For dessert I meant to have strawberries, but the very idea of them is nauseating after working with them all day." "I should rather think so--strawberries, indeed! No, for once I am going over to neighbor Thomas' and borrow; that is the proper thing to do in the country, and I dare say they have felt slighted that we have not been before. Probably they think we are proud. I know they have more cream from that Jersey cow than they can possibly use, and I have an idea of a dessert I can make up all alone. Mary, do you think we shall ever be able to have a real live cow of our very own?" "If we were going to live in the country the year around, I think somehow or other we ought to manage to have one. We should have to pay for hay and things in winter to feed it on, and get somebody to milk it, though, and I remember to have heard that caring for the milk was no small consideration when one has a small family. I rather think, when you counted up the first cost of a good cow and added the price of its care and food, you would find it was cheaper to buy milk; but wouldn't it be perfectly delightful never to have to economize on it? Think of the cream soups and ice-cream and custards and fresh cream cheese and everything else! Well, Dolly, dear, run along on your errand, for if we continue this subject you will see me dissolve in tears." Their neighbor proved to have a bowl of cream she did not need and was glad to let Dolly have, and in a moment the cream-whipper was at work, and presently a mass of stiff whip was ready, sweetened, flavored and laid lightly on a cold glass dish. Then going to the pantry, a small paper box was found among the cracker boxes sent from town. This was full of lady-fingers. Half of it was used for the dessert, as they were split and arranged around the cream, and there was a most delicious mould of charlotte russe. As half the five-cent box of cakes was left over, this cost but a veritable song, thanks to the neighbor's kindness, which, by the way, was repaid later on by the gift of a strawberry shortcake. Mary was getting the chafing-dish ready to light for the second time the moment the latch of the garden gate announced her husband's home-coming. Meanwhile she gave Dolly a talk on its uses. "Always have a chafing-dish in the house," she began seriously. "When you need it at all, you need it dreadfully. Now, in a place like this, where you may be caught unawares at any moment with no fuel, you can see that we simply could not do without it. Of course in town we have the gas-stove, and that cooks just as well as this, but even there a chafing-dish is a good thing to own. On Sunday night, for supper, it is more fun to cook with this than it is to stir up things in the kitchen. Then, too, when you have people in during the evening, it is nice to have them sit around the table and chat while you get up a little supper with it. You can have so many good things in it, too, such as lobster, creamed or Newburg, and scrambled eggs mixed with green peppers or tomatoes, or creamed haddie, or cheese fondu or rarebit. And with sandwiches and coffee and salad, you can see you can have a really beautiful supper, the coffee in the machine on the sideboard or on one end of the table, the salad ready in its bowl, and the chafing-dish and hot plates in front of the hostess." "Yes, of course it is fun to use one. I know lots of girls who make a regular business of learning how to make new things; they take cooking lessons on them." "I know they do, but sometimes I am inclined to think they overdo that matter. You should not take a chafing-dish too seriously, in my opinion. It is invaluable in an emergency, and good at other times, but after all it is better to learn to cook on a range, and make all sorts of things, and then you can easily add on the chafing-dish cookery. In other words, it is an informal utensil for informal occasions, not for every-day use." "Well, certainly to-night we needed it badly enough, and if Dick declines to saw wood this evening, as my prophetic soul says he will, we shall have to get breakfast on it too. What will you have?" "Let me see. Are there plenty of eggs? I think we will scramble some, or, if we are short, we will cream codfish in the dish. The coffee I shall make in one of the two pans, too, since our machine is in town. Toast we can't have, and muffins are equally out of the question, but we will have berries, and bread and butter, and then our nice hot dish and coffee. That's a meal fit for anybody." "And 'no trouble at all,'" quoted Dolly. CHAPTER XIII Midsummer Housekeeping--The End of the Holiday As summer went on the weather turned extremely hot, and the problem of keeping the little house cool and doing the work easily became a real study to the sisters. It was such a simple matter to allow the cooking to stretch itself out over so much of the morning that before they realized it they were tired out for the rest of the day. In order to make things easier, they decided to rise a trifle earlier than usual, throw open all the doors and windows, and let the cool air in; then they would breakfast on the porch as usual, wash up the dishes, and set the house in order and close and darken it for the middle of the day. There would still be time to go down-town and market and do what cooking was necessary, and yet before noon everything would be out of the way. By careful planning they could manage the luncheons and dinner so that they could be ready in advance and the long afternoons could be devoted to rest and reading. Then between four and five o'clock the doors and windows were again thrown open. The dinner table was laid on the porch, just before the six o'clock train was due, and the dinner itself was put on in only a moment, thanks to the foresight of the morning. One of the things upon which Mrs. Thorne laid great emphasis was the delightfulness of cold meals on hot days. When one rose jaded from a sultry night she felt it was not the time for codfish cakes or scrambled eggs. When luncheon was to be set out, things from the refrigerator were what one wished for, cold and comfortable. Even at dinner, the food on a blisteringly hot evening was cold; cold and appetizing, and quite as nourishing as though it had been heated. They arranged these meals in this way: for breakfast, they cooked oatmeal or farina or some other cereal in the fireless stove all day, till it was a jelly; toward night they put this into a mould, cooled it, and then set it on the ice. In the morning they had first a pretty form of this cereal surrounded by red raspberries or sliced peaches, with sugar and cream; this, with toast and hot coffee, was all they wished for. Sometimes, when they tired of the cereal, they had a chilled salad of sliced tomatoes on lettuce, with a light French dressing, a curious breakfast dish, but one they found very refreshing in the heat. On cooler mornings they had a first course of little melons, followed by eggs, muffins and coffee, or fried tomatoes in the place of the eggs. For luncheon they had all sorts of things from the garden. Often the main dish was a vegetable salad,--string-beans or stuffed tomatoes, or cucumbers and tomatoes,--with freshly made cottage cheese bought from a neighbor, and bread and butter and iced tea, coffee or chocolate. Or, if the day was cool, they had the vegetable hot,--baked corn, or creamed peas, or tomatoes, baked, filled with crumbs and seasoning,--and for a second course there was usually fruit. Luncheons such as these were nothing to get up. The vegetables were prepared directly after breakfast. If they were to be served as salads, they were cooked, cooled and set on the ice; if hot, they were made all ready to put in the oven at the last moment. Their cold dinners, however, were their pride. They found so many good things to have that they fairly hesitated which to choose for any particular night. Sometimes they began with clear soup. This, of course, was made the day before in the tireless stove, and only strained and put on ice the next morning for the second evening. On very hot days sometimes they put it in a small pail, and set this in another and larger one, with ice between, and put it back in the stove for the afternoon; then it came out full of splinters of ice, a most delightfully cool affair. Fruit soups they experimented with, but found they did not care for, so they clung to this clear bouillon when they had soup at all. Usually, however, their dinner began with meat. This was made ready either the day before it was needed, or else it was prepared early in the morning. They had veal loaf sometimes, surrounded with sliced tomatoes and French dressing; or slices of cold mutton with peas in mayonnaise; or occasionally, as a treat, jellied chicken with the peas. Sometimes they had bits of lamb, cooked very tender with a knuckle-bone, and then made exactly like the jellied chicken, the meat turning out set in an aspic. Often peas were mixed with the lamb in the mould, and then a little gelatine was added to ensure its setting firmly. Usually, with the dish, they had dressed lettuce. After this combination course of meat and salad, came dessert. They often had an ice or sherbet made from the fruit in the garden, costing nothing but the small amount of sugar used in making it and the ice used in freezing. This was alternated with some sort of mousse made in the fireless stove. Sometimes there was fruit jelly, raspberries, possibly, set with lemon jelly, moulded in a circle with whipped cream in the middle. Or there would be a chilled rice pudding; or peaches, cut up, sugared, and put in a pail with ice around them and set away till they were half frozen. These things, too, could all be prepared early in the day. Usually, even when the weather was hot, the one exception to the cold-food rule was the coffee, which they liked best hot at night as well as morning, but when they had had any mousse or ice-cream for dinner, part of this was sometimes saved, and late in the evening there came in tall glasses of iced coffee or chocolate with a spoonful of the cream in the bottom of each; a sort of ice-cream-soda they particularly fancied. When the weather grew cooler these cold dinners gave way to hot ones. Then they had cream soups first, made with any vegetable they happened to have ready cooked from the night before; a spoonful of spinach, or a handful of beans, or the outer leaves of lettuce, all were used. Afterward came meat and vegetables, and then perhaps a berry tart or a custard or shortcake. However, whatever they had, they were certain to prepare it to the last possible spoonful in the morning. The meat course at dinner was too often a problem, for the butcher continued all summer to exercise them in the virtue of patience. In the early part of their stay his shop was so far from sanitarily clean that they were obliged to tell him they could not trade with him unless he improved his ways. This he good-naturedly consented to do as far as in him lay. He put his meat in the ice-box instead of leaving it exposed on the counter; what there was out he covered with a mosquito-netting. But as his ice-box was small, this meant that the meat could not hang long enough to make it tender; it was brought in one day by the farmers and put out for sale the next. All the beef was tough and stringy; the veal was apt to be far too young, and the chickens far too old. There was seldom any lamb to be had, and the mutton often had a curious flavor decidedly suggestive of wool. To offset these difficulties, however, there were some advantages, advantages over the city market, even. By watching the calves brought in, Mary could select the largest one and insist that her meat must be cut from that. Then she would also secure the liver for almost nothing, and the sweetbreads and brains for a song; as she predicted in the winter she would find, the farming community did not appreciate these things as she did. The liver she roasted after larding it, and it made a delicious dinner, while the left-over appeared the next night as mock terrapin and was equally good. The sweetbreads and brains were of course among their choicest dishes. Sometimes on a Sunday night they had a salad of them served on lettuce with mayonnaise. The mutton she bought occasionally, for it was cheap, too, but she always parboiled it before roasting it, and put considerable seasoning in the dish to disguise the woolly flavor she perhaps imagined she noticed. Once cold, however, this disappeared, and the meat was a welcome change from the other things she could get. Though the beef was really almost worthless in the condition in which it appeared in the shop, as it was coarse and tough and not ready to eat, this Mary also made palatable. She would buy a piece off the round, and put it through her own meat-chopper to ensure having it clean. This then appeared as Hamburg steak, surrounded by all sorts of vegetables, small piles of tiny carrots, little beans and fresh peas setting the brown meat off by their alternating colors. Or she cut the beef up into finger lengths and stewed it long and slowly in the tireless stove, putting in barley and tomatoes and other good things till it came out a delicious, rich, and nourishing stew. When she could get a beef's tongue, she always rejoiced, for one night it was braised with vegetables, and another the slices left over were set in an aspic jelly, and a third the rest was chopped, creamed and slightly baked, and the whole cost little as compared to what she would have had to pay in town, where tongue was an extravagant meat. When a chicken could be found which promised to be tender, that was purchased, not at twenty-two cents or thereabouts, as it would have been in the city, but for fifteen cents. This was usually split up the back and panned for Sunday dinner. When an old fowl was purchased for jellied chicken for hot nights, it was first stewed to rags, then imbedded in its own stock, strained and set with gelatine, and it came out tender in spite of itself. As to fish, once in awhile they could get something from the river. A fish-man drove a wagon past the door, but as he asked city prices for what he had, and as there was always some doubt as to just what day the fish had originally appeared on sale, these they never purchased. The little perch and sunfish small boys brought straight from the water, strung on twigs and still dripping, they did buy, and found them excellent for a change, though after the skin and bones were removed there was little left of the fish. As to groceries, there had been a good deal of trouble at first. The coffee and tea at the post-office-shop were too poor to use; the spices were distinctly stale; crackers were to be had only in broken bits from the common barrel. Butter was almost as expensive as in town, and not very good even so; too often it was pale, and the buttermilk exuded in tiny drops here and there. Eggs were a constant source of anxiety; they were not only much more expensive than they should have been, according to Mrs. Thorne's ideas, but they were of all ages, and so mixed at the store that it was impossible to decide which would do for breakfast and which would not, until, by breaking several, one after the other, it was found that all were about equally stale. To make housekeeping easy, it was necessary to hunt up a farmer's wife who made really good butter and would promise to deliver it weekly. This arrangement proved the solution of that difficulty. Sometimes, when the weather was cool, Dolly would take the cream-whipper, and using the sweet cream she could occasionally get for a small sum, she would turn out enough delicious unsalted butter to make the next day's meals a delight. The egg problem had to be solved in the same fashion as the butter problem. A farmer had to be found who would bring in a dozen eggs or more a week, provided he had them; too often he came supplied with only half as many as they wished to have, hens being obdurate at the time. This meant that they had then to be very economical for awhile, till the wretched fowls returned to business. Most of the groceries had to be ordered from town, for their coffee and tea must be good, and a certain number of packages of crackers and fancy biscuit, with salmon, olives, spices, chocolate, gelatine, raisins and some tins of olive oil, were ordered with them. The staples, flour, sugar, rice, salt, corn-meal and such things, they bought from day to day, as they were needed, at the local grocery. Ice continued to arrive on schedule time, but as it was almost as dear as at home, they had to use it carefully. The water was bottled and put on it in the refrigerator. Tea and coffee were treated in the same way, so that they could all be used without adding any ice from the block, except perhaps a small bit in each glass. They kept the one large piece carefully wrapped up, to prevent its melting, in defiance of the advice of most household teachers of housekeeping, who had declared that the truest economy consisted in letting the ice melt as it would, in order to best preserve the food. They found that the food still kept from day to day when the ice was wrapped, and just half as much had to be bought as when it melted at its own sweet will. When they had ice-cream they made only a small quantity at a time by having a little freezer, and breaking only as much ice as they really needed. They made more sherbets than any other frozen dainty, and for these they used fruit from the garden; raspberry, cherry and currant ices took little from the family purse. When cream was used, it was made into mousse, and of course frozen in the tireless stove. This useful article, by the way, was not brought from town, but constructed out of a wooden candy-pail with hay-filled pads; it took only a morning of the sisters' time, and no money at all to make. One warm afternoon Dolly roused herself from a reverie in the hammock and suddenly said to Mary, "This place reminds me of the seashore!" "Because it's so different, I suppose." "Exactly; you have guessed it. The reason why I was reminded of the seashore in the first place, however, was the distant view I get from here of the fish-man's wagon disappearing down the road, and the thought of the shore suggested the summer we all spent there together before you were married. I was wondering whether you knew much about housekeeping then, and how you found living there compared with living here." "I really did not do any housekeeping then, but four years ago Dick and I spent three weeks there visiting a friend, and I learned all about the way prices ran from her; she was a splendid manager, too." "Well, what do you think of the difference between it and this place?" "It's as wide as the sea itself. In the first place, unless you go to a very primitive spot, you will find the fish is nearly all sent to town, and you must pay city prices for what you can get. That is the first great disillusionment you meet with. Bluefish and lobsters and all, even down to flounders, are no longer cheap if the place is near enough a railroad to permit an easy shipment to town. Clams are usually an exception, and if you can live largely on these, you will find they cost little. We used to ring the changes on chowder, minced clams on toast, and clam broth." "Do you mean hard-shelled clams or soft?" "Hard shell; quahaugs, they are called locally. Soft-shell clams you can dig yourself in many places; and if you go to the seashore, do try and find out in advance how the supply is, for freshly dug clams that cost nothing, and can be steamed or made into clam fritters and other good dishes, are indeed a boon to those who must live on a little by the sea." "And how about groceries and such things?" "They are all high; city prices again. You must really take down some good dry things yourself to help out, just as we do here. And butter and eggs are very expensive, for the climate at the seaside never seems to agree with either cows or hens; they are scarce. So eggs and butter and milk are all costly." "And meat, I suppose, is, too." "Meat is frightfully dear if you go to any place where it is sent down from the city. If it is not, but is bought at a butcher shop at the nearest place, it is the same sort of thing we get here--poor, distinctly poor, my dear." "On the whole, then, you do not recommend the seashore as an economical place to spend the summer in." "Not unless you go to an unfashionable place a long way off. Then if you get a furnished cottage, and can get clams by digging them and fish by catching it, or getting it of a fisherman who does not find it in demand elsewhere, you can really live on a little. Of course you will not have milk, nor eggs, nor vegetables nor fruit, except in homoeopathic doses, but then, it will be cool and refreshing as to climate, and the rest will doubtless do your weary brain a great deal of good." "Doubtless. But I think, as long as I am poor, I shall take my vacations among the hills; it must be cheap there." "Then you must rent your apartment in town or board in the country, for you can't well rent two places at the same time. You can get a cheap place in certain farmhouses in the hills not too near the city, but often they are not so very comfortable, to our ways of thinking." "But certainly, if I rent the apartment and take a small house, I shall find food cheap enough." "Just about as it is here: vegetables and fruit will be cheap, and meat poor, and ice probably hard to be had. But milk will be inexpensive, and probably eggs and butter, too." "The farther off you get the more it costs to live, if one is to go by prices in the Adirondacks, or similar remote spots. I remember going there once and staying in a camp, and everything had to be brought by pack, and I knew it must cost heaps to get such things as vegetables and eggs and city groceries." "Yes, such places are costly if you try and live as you do at home. I believe the only way to manage is to accommodate yourself as far as possible to the place you are in. That is, here we do not send away for anything but groceries, and only one box of those in a summer; we eat the local meat, and if we had no garden we could buy vegetables of our neighbors. At the seashore you must live on what is there; not meat and vegetables, but fish you can catch for yourself and clams you can dig. In the hills, put up with discomforts and look at the sunsets. Don't try and have city meats, but when the farmer kills an animal, take what you can get of it and be thankful, and make it up on vegetables and blueberries and such things." "But taking this summer as a whole and comparing it with life in the city and elsewhere, would you not say that the country is about the best place of all to live in? It seems to me that it is. Living has been very cheap this summer, hasn't it?" "Yes, very, but remember that we pay no rent here, and have a garden. Suppose we hired a cottage and had to have a garden made. That would be another story, for the first year at least. I suppose after that the garden part would be less expensive. Then remember that there are two of us to do the work; you alone without a maid would find it much harder to get along. And then in summer, it is lovely anywhere in the country, but think of this place in winter, with snow piled up high and nobody to dig walks except a husband who has only brief mornings and evenings to do it in. Then the problem of heating the house! No, I do not believe I should find it easy to live here in the winter." "Oh, I did not mean here; I meant in some nice suburb not too far from town." "Well, rents are high in any nice place, and you have to have a furnace man and somebody to shovel snow just as you would have here. Beside, food is always very expensive in a suburb; you have to pay city prices for everything." "Well, is the last word that the city is the only place to live in economically?" "Not at all. I hope I could live economically anywhere. But if you do live in town in an apartment, you get your heating done without trouble on your part, and you can buy any sort of food at any price you choose to pay. If you want cheap meat you can get it, and it will be of a good kind, not the poor stuff we have here. Vegetables and fruit are as cheap in summer in town as they are anywhere, provided you have to buy them in the country. You have to spend car-fares there, and here you have a commutation ticket to get. My mind is exactly where it was before we came out here for the summer. It is not the place you live in, it is the way you live that makes things come out even. Don't pay more rent than you can afford; don't spend more on your table than you can afford; watch your small outgoings; keep down Incidentals. If you observe these rules, Dolly, I am sure you will come out right in the end wherever you are. Live in the country if you choose; there are lots of compensations for the extra care of the fires and the snow in the winter. Think of the lovely summer we have had here. That would be worth a long cold winter, I really believe. Or, live in a suburb and have a good time socially--I believe you get more gaiety of a nice kind in a small place than in town. But if you do, be very, very careful, for it is extra hard there to live on a little. If you live in an apartment in town, economize all winter, for no one will be the wiser, and spend the money you save in an outing in summer of some sort. That is my advice after trying living in all sorts of places." "Well, I'll consider the subject later on. Meanwhile, tell me truly: have you saved as much money as you expected to when we came out here?" "Yes, quite as much. Meat has cost little, and vegetables still less, in spite of the wages of the weeding boy. Fuel has been low; milk less than in town, and butter and eggs no more here than there. Fruit has been almost nothing at all, and though we have done up so much, the sugar has not been so very expensive, because we bought that by the half-barrel and saved a good deal so. On the whole, I am more than satisfied, and we will have a snug little sum left over after we put back what we took out of Incidentals when we came." "And next time we will have a cow and make all our butter," said Dolly. "And we will surely have hens, too," said her sister. "That is, we will have them if we can; I am not sure we could invest in any for one summer alone, though I do sigh for plenty of eggs and broilers. I have heard, however, that hens are expensive and unsatisfactory in the hands of a novice, so we won't order any in advance." When Mr. Thorne came home at night he had two letters in his pocket which proved of amazing interest. One was Dolly's regular letter from South America, but it conveyed the joyful news that the end of probation was at hand and it was about time to begin ordering the trousseau for an early wedding. The other letter was from Aunt Maria, and said that her sister was ill and she should not return in the autumn, and the family was to have whatever they could take home from the garden. These things naturally made the breaking up of the little home very exciting. "We will take all the potatoes," said Mary as they looked over the outdoor supplies still uneaten. "We will have those put in two barrels, and have one apiece for you and ourselves. The squashes we will take too, and the onions and turnips and beets, and all those things. The parsley we will plant in boxes for the kitchen windows, and the apples we will take every one." "And may a mere man inquire where on earth you are going to store all these things in our flat?" asked her husband. "The barrel of potatoes can stand in the dining-room, to be sure, and the apples in the parlor, but the squashes and turnips will have to go in your dress-boxes under the beds." "No, they won't. We will take everything to town that we can and divide them up. The janitor can keep our barrels in the basement and bring up one at a time, and I will put the other things in baskets and pile those one on top of the other in the corner by the refrigerator, or some other place." "Some other place will be better," said Dick. "Well, of course I realize that they will not keep forever, Dick Thorne, but I shall take every single thing I can find, for all that, and we will eat them up as soon as possible. Still, it is maddening not to have more room to store things in a city apartment. Now in the country we should have a root cellar, Dolly, and put lots of them out there, and have them come in all winter when we needed them. And of course potatoes and apples and squashes we could put down cellar and they would be all right there. Isn't it too provoking we can't do that way in town? I declare it is enough to make me determine to stay on here till spring." "Do," said her husband encouragingly. "Shovelling snow is said to be the finest exercise in the world, and you can do it at odd moments when you are not stoking the kitchen fire. I should have to catch the early train in the morning, and it would be dark when I came back, so I could not help you, unfortunately, much as I should regret the fact. But I am sure it would do you all the good in the world." "Some other winter," laughed his wife. "The next thing is to get Dolly married, and we must go back to get that over. Father and mother will be home soon, too, and that is another reason for our leaving. But it has been a lovely summer; we shall always remember it, I am sure." "It has been a lovely year all through," said Dolly. "I can't tell you how grateful I am for your taking me in. And do you--now honestly, Mary--do you think I know enough to keep house all by myself?" "I have my doubts, Dolly dear," her brother broke in. "On the whole I think Fred had better put off coming home for awhile. I shall write him to-morrow in any case, and I shall tell him so and save you the trouble." "There won't be time for a letter to reach him, unfortunately," Dolly replied with a most becoming blush. "He is coming right away--about next week, he thinks. So, Mary, you see why I am anxious to know whether I can keep house or not. Do tell me honestly." "I can conscientiously give you a diploma, my dear, so don't worry. You really and truly have learned to live on a little." 
41940	----	Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. Illustrations and Advertisements have been moved so that the flow of the text is uninterrupted. THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE OF·CULINARY·SCIENCE·AND· DOMESTIC·ECONOMICS AUG.-SEPT., 1910 Vol. XV No. 2 1 DOLLAR A YEAR 10 CENTS A COPY PUBLISHED BY THE BOSTON COOKING SCHOOL MAGAZINE Co. 372 BOYLSTON ST. BOSTON MASS. [Illustrated Advertisement] RUMFORD THE WHOLESOME Baking Powder SURPASSES ALL OTHERS IN HEALTHFUL AND BAKING QUALITIES. It is a food itself, made of the genuine Professor Horsford's Phosphate, thereby supplying the nutritious and strength-giving phosphates so essential to health, which are removed from flour in the process of bolting. Hot Biscuit, Rolls, Muffins, etc., made with Rumford Baking Powder can be eaten hot without detriment. Its action in the dough is thorough, producing superior Cake, Biscuit, etc., of the finest texture, and without impairing the most delicate flavorings that may be used. The Best at a Reasonable Cost. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] LOWNEY'S COCOA =GOOD= Cocoa is the best beverage known to modern authorities on food and drink, nourishing, strengthening and a valuable aid to digestion. There is, however, a wide range in the _Quality_ of cocoas. =Lowney's= cocoa is made of the choicest cocoa beans without "treatments" or adulteration, and in a manner that insures the purest and best product possible. It is the best cocoa made. _The Lowney Cook Book 421 pages, $1.25 postpaid_ =The Walter M. Lowney Co.= =Boston= Cocoa-Chocolate Chocolate Bonbons * * * * * THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE Vol. XV AUGUST-SEPTEMBER, 1910 No. 2 CONTENTS FOR AUGUST-SEPTEMBER PAGE DISHES FOR AUTOMOBILE AND PICNIC LUNCHEONS 57 QUAINT CUSTOMS AND TOOTHSOME DAINTIES Frances R. Sterrett 59 BEING MARRIED Mrs. Charles Norman 65 THE REGENERATION OF PODUNK Phoebe D. Roulon 67 FATE Grace Agnes Thompson 70 OUT OF CHICKEN PIE Helen Campbell 71 IN AUGUST Cora A. M. Dolson 73 OLD AGE Kate Gannett Wells 73 LOVE AND AFFECTION Helen Coale Crew 75 THREE GIRLS GO BLACKBERRYING Samuel Smyth 76 A ROMANY TENT Lalia Mitchell 77 EDITORIALS 78 SEASONABLE RECIPES (Illustrated by half-tone engravings of prepared dishes) Janet M. Hill 81 MENUS FOR WEEK IN AUGUST " " " 90 MENUS FOR WEEK IN SEPTEMBER " " " 91 MENUS, ECONOMICAL, FOR WEEK IN SEPTEMBER Janet M. Hill 92 RHYMED RECEIPTS FOR ANY OCCASION, Kimberly Strickland 93 IN TIME OF VACATION Janet M. Hill 94 THE TASK WE LOVE L. M. Thornton 95 A GROUP OF CHOICE SPANISH AND MEXICAN RECIPES Mrs. L. Rice 96 THE NURSERY E. R. Parker 97 PRACTICAL HOME DIETETICS Minnie Genevieve Morse 99 HOME IDEAS AND ECONOMIES 104 GOIN' TO SCHOOL Laura R. Talbot 108 QUERIES AND ANSWERS 109 MISCELLANEOUS xiv $1.00 A YEAR Published Ten Times a Year 10c. A COPY Four Years' Subscription, $3.00 Entered at Boston post-office as second-class matter. Copyright, 1910, by THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE COMPANY 372 BOYLSTON STREET BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS PLEASE RENEW ON RECEIPT OF THE COLORED BLANK ENCLOSED FOR THAT PURPOSE [Advertisement] Is your Canning done? If not, now is the time to commence. With the larger fruits, such as peaches, pears, plums, etc., and the vegetables at their best, there is no time to be lost. You will find Mrs. Rorer's book, =Canning and Preserving=, a wonderful help. You cannot fail in your work if you follow her directions. Isn't that worth something? To have your jellies come out right--no mistakes, no reboiling, no worry, no fret--what wouldn't a woman give to insure such a result? 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Well, here in this book are many fine, choice recipes to tickle the palate and give that nice finish to a good meal. =Cloth bound, only 50 cents= =At all bookstores or department stores, or write the publishers= =Arnold and Company, 420 Sansom Street, Philadelphia= * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] SLADE'S CINNAMON ABSOLUTELY PURE ¼ LB. NET =DELICIOUS FOOD= Costs but little, if any more than disgusting food. It is the flavor that marks the difference between =Slade's Spices and Extracts= and the ordinary kind. That is why you should insist on having SLADE'S. _Grocers generally sell Slade's to particular people._ D. & L. SLADE CO. BOSTON * * * * * [Advertisement] EUTHENICS _The Science of Controllable Environment_ _By ELLEN H. RICHARDS, A.M._ This book is a plea for better living conditions as a first step toward higher human efficiency. It discusses most readably the opportunity for betterment, the need of individual and community effort, the training of the child in the home and in the school, stimulative education for adults, the protection of the ignorant, and the responsibility for improving the national health and increasing the national wealth. Ready in June. Price to be announced. WHITCOMB & BARROWS _Publishers_ Huntington Chambers, Boston, Mass. * * * * * INDEX FOR AUGUST-SEPTEMBER PAGE A Group of Choice Spanish and Mexican Recipes 96 A Romany Tent 77 Being Married 65 Dishes for Automobile and Picnic Luncheons 57 Editorials 78 Fate 70 Goin' to School 108 Home Ideas and Economies 104 In August 73 In Time of Vacation 94 Love and Affection 75 Menus 90-92 Old Age 73 Out of Chicken Pie 71 Practical Home Dietetics 99 Quaint Customs and Toothsome Dainties 59 Rhymed Receipts for any Occasion 93 The Father xiv The Nursery 97 The Regeneration of Podunk 67 The Task we Love 95 Three Girls Go Blackberrying 76 SEASONABLE RECIPES: Bouillon, Jellied 82 Chicken and Ham, Terrine of (Ill.) 84 Chowder, Green Corn 83 Corn, Green, au Gratin (Ill.) 88 Kuchen, Kugelhopf (Ill.) 89 Meat, Cold, with Vegetable Salad (Ill.) 85 Oysters, Escalloped 83 Parfait, Grape-Juice (Ill.) 89 Pastry, Plain and Flaky 86, 87 Pears Béatrice (Ill.) 87 Rissoles, Chicken-and-Ham (Ill.) 85 Salad, Cheese (Ill.) 86 Salad, Peach (Ill.) 89 Sauce, Vinaigrette 85 Sausage with Pineapple Fritters (Ill.) 85 Sherbet, Grape-Juice 89 Soup, Bisque of Clams and Green Peas 81 Soup, Clam Broth, Chantilly 81 Soup, Purée of Tomato, Julienne 82 Soup, Tomato Bisque 82 Watermelon Cones (Ill.) 89 QUERIES AND ANSWERS: Angel Food with Cornstarch xii Blitz Kuchen 109 Cake, Lady Baltimore xii Cake, Sponge, for Jelly Roll 111 Cookies, Peanut xii Currants, Bar-le-Duc 112 Custard, Cheese x Eggs Benedict 111 Ginger Root, Preserving x Ice Cream, Dark Chocolate 109 Jelly, Tomato, Aspic 110 Omelet, Rum x Peach Cordial xii Rice with Bacon and Tomatoes xii Soup, Cream of Corn 111 Sundae, Maple-Walnut xii Tamales, Mexican x Time Table for Cooking 110 [Advertisement] LEADING WORKS ON COOKERY PUBLISHED BY LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., BOSTON =The Boston Cooking School Cook Book= By FANNIE MERRITT FARMER. New revised edition, with 130 illustrations in half-tone. 664 pages. Cloth. $2.00. This new and enlarged edition contains 2117 thoroughly tested recipes, from the simple and economical to the more elaborate. =Food and Cookery for the Sick and Convalescent= By FANNIE MERRITT FARMER. With sixty illustrations in half-tone. 300 pages. Cloth. $1.50 _net_. An invaluable book for those whose duty it is to care for the sick. =Chafing Dish Possibilities= By FANNIE MERRITT FARMER. 161 pages. Cloth. $1.00. It is a book that no one who entertains with the chafing dish will be without.--_St. Paul Globe._ =The Golden Rule Cook Book= By M. R. L. SHARPE. 12mo. 300 pages. Cloth. $2.50 _net_. A collection of 600 recipes for meatless dishes with specimen menus that will delight the vegetarian. =Cooking for Two= By JANET MACKENZIE HILL. A handbook for young housekeepers. With numerous illustrations. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50 _net_. Over 400 pages of recipes, menus, and other invaluable information for families of two. =The Up-To-Date Waitress= By JANET MACKENZIE HILL. With 53 illustrations. 165 pages. Cloth. $1.50 _net_. A book for every household in which a waitress is employed. =Salads, Sandwiches, and Chafing-Dish Dainties= By JANET MACKENZIE HILL. With 50 illustrations. 143 pages. Cloth. $1.50. To the housewife who likes new and dainty ways of serving food, this book will simply be a godsend. =The Boston Cook Book= By MARY J. LINCOLN. Revised edition, with 51 illustrations. About 600 pages. Cloth, $2.00. It ought to be in every household.--_Philadelphia Press._ * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] MRS. HILL'S NEW BOOK COOKING TOR TWO =Over 400 pages; over 100 illustrations.= =Price $1.50 net, postage 16c.= COOKING FOR TWO is designed to give in simple and concise style, those things that are essential to the proper selection and preparation of a reasonable variety of food for a family of two individuals. At the same time by simply doubling the quantity of each ingredient given in a recipe, the dish prepared will serve four or more people. The food products considered in the recipes are such as the housekeeper of average means would use on every day occasions, with a generous sprinkling of choice articles for Sunday, or when a friend or two have been invited to dinner, luncheon or high tea. Menus for a week or two in each month are given. There is much in the book that is interesting, even indispensable, to young housekeepers, or those with little experience in cooking, while every housekeeper will find it contains much that is new and helpful. =An ideal gift to a young housekeeper. The recipes are practical and are designed, and really are, "For Two."= We will send "=Cooking for Two=" _postpaid_ on receipt of price; or to a present subscriber as a premium for sending us three (3) _new_ yearly subscriptions at $1.00 each. =The Boston Cooking-School Magazine Co., Boston, Massachusetts= * * * * * [Advertisement] Books on Household Economics THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE presents the following as a list of representative works on household economics. Any of the books will be sent postpaid on receipt of price. With an order amounting to $5 or more we include a year's subscription to THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE (price $1). The MAGAZINE must be sent, however, to a new subscriber. The books will be sent as premiums for securing new subscriptions to THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE as follows: any book listed at not more than fifty cents will be sent postpaid to a present subscriber on receipt of one new yearly subscription at $1; for two subscriptions we will send postpaid any $1 book; for three subscriptions any $1.50 book; and so on in like ratio. Special rates will be made to schools, clubs and persons wishing a number of books. Write for quotation on the list of books you wish. =American Salad Book.= M. DeLoup $1.00 =Art of Home Candy-making= (=with thermometer, dipping wire, and moulds=) 3.00 =Art of Right Living.= Richards .50 =Baby, The. A book for mothers and nurses.= D. R. Brown, M.D. 1.00 =Blue Grass Cook Book.= Minnie C. Fox 2.00 =Book of Good Manners.= Kingsland 1.50 =Boston Cook Book.= Mary J. Lincoln 2.00 =Boston Cooking School Cook Book.= Fannie M. 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Hill 1.50 =Cost of Cleanness.= Richards 1.00 =Cost of Food.= Richards 1.00 =Cost of Living.= Richards 1.00 =Cost of Shelter.= Richards 1.00 =Dainties.= Mrs. Rorer .35 =Desserts--One Hundred Recipes.= By Fillipini .30 =Diet in Relation to Age and Activity.= Sir Henry Thompson 1.00 =Dictionary of Cookery.= Cassell 3.00 =Dictionary of Foods and Culinary Encyclopædia.= Senn 1.00 =Domestic Service.= Lucy M. Salmon 2.00 =Economics of Modern Cookery.= M. M. Mollock 1.00 =Eggs--One Hundred Recipes.= Fillipini .30 =Every Day Menu Book.= Mrs. Rorer 1.50 =Expert Waitress.= A. F. Springsteed 1.00 =First Lessons in Food and Diet=. .30 =Fish--One Hundred Recipes for Cooking Fish.= Fillipini .30 =First Principles of Nursing.= Anne R. Manning 1.00 =Food.= A. H. Church 1.20 =Food and Cookery for the Sick and Convalescent.= Fannie M. Farmer 1.50 =Food and Dietaries.= R. W. Burnett, M.D. 1.50 =Food and its Functions.= James Knight 1.00 =Food in Health and Disease.= I. B. Yéo, M.D. 2.50 =Food Materials and their Adulterations.= Richards 1.00 =Golden Rule Cook Book= (=600 Recipes for Meatless Dishes=). Sharpe 2.50 =Handbook of Invalid Cooking.= Mary A. Boland 2.00 =Healthful Farm House, The.= Helen Dodd .60 =Home Economics.= Maria Parloa 1.50 =Home Economics Movement= .75 =Home Nursing.= Harrison 1.00 =Home Problems from a New Standpoint= 1.00 =Home Sanitation.= Richards and Talbot .25 =Home Science Cook Book.= Anna Barrows and Mary J. Lincoln 1.00 =Hostess of Today.= Linda Hull Larned 1.50 =Hot Weather Dishes.= Mrs. Rorer .50 =Household Economics.= Helen Campbell 1.50 =Household Science.= Juniata L. Shepperd 1.75 =How to Cook Fish.= Olive Green 1.00 =How to Cook for the Sick and Convalescent.= H. V. Sachse 1.00 =How to Feed Children.= Louise E. Hogan 1.00 =International Cook Book.= Fillipini 4.80 =Kitchen Companion.= Parloa 2.50 =Laundry Manual.= Balderston and Limerick .50 =Laundry Work.= Juniata L. Shepperd .60 =Louis' Salads and Chafing Dishes.= Muckensturm .50 =Luncheons.= Mary Roland 1.40 =Made-over Dishes.= Mrs. Rorer .50 =Many Ways for Cooking Eggs.= Mrs. Rorer .35 =Marion Harland's Complete Cook Book= 2.00 =Menu Book and Register of Dishes.= Senn 2.50 =My Best 250 Recipes.= Mrs. Rorer .50 =One Woman's Work for Farm Women= .50 =Practical Cooking and Serving.= Mrs. Janet M. Hill 2.00 =Practical, Sanitary, and Economic Cooking.= Mary Hinman Abel .40 =Principles of Home Decoration.= Candace Wheeler 1.80 =Register of Foods= 1.00 =Rorer's (Mrs.) New Cook Book= 2.00 =Salads, Sandwiches, and Chafing Dish Dainties.= Mrs. Janet M. Hill 1.50 =Sanitation in Daily Life.= Richards .60 =Spirit of Cookery.= J. L. W. Thudichum 2.50 =The Up-to-date Waitress.= Mrs. Janet M. Hill 1.50 =The Woman who Spends.= Bertha J. Richardson 1.00 =Till the Doctor Comes, and How to Help Him.= George H. Hope, M.D., and Mary Kydd 1.00 =Vegetable Cookery and Meat Substitutes.= Mrs. Rorer 1.50 =Vegetarian Cookery.= A. G. Payne .50 ADDRESS ALL ORDERS THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO., BOSTON, MASS. * * * * * [Advertisement] We Have an Attractive Proposition To make to those who will take subscriptions for _THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE_ Write us for it if you wish to canvass your town or if you wish to secure only a few names among your friends and acquaintances. Start the work at once and you will be surprised how easily you can earn ten, twenty or fifty dollars. ADDRESS SUBSCRIPTION DEPARTMENT _Boston Cooking-School Magazine Co._ _BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS_ Buy advertised goods--do not accept substitutes * * * * * Dishes for Automobile and Picnic Luncheons I. Terrine-of-Chicken and Ham Cold Jellied Chicken Pie Cold Jellied Tongue Cold Boiled Ham, Sliced Thin Cold Chicken-and-Ham Rissoles Boned Loin of Lamb, Roasted, Cooled, Sliced Thin Slices of Cold Roast Lamb in Mint Jelly Cold Broiled Lamb Chops, Paper Frills on Bones Cold Creamed Chicken in Puff Cases Salmon-and-Green Pea Salad Potato-and-Egg Salad Stringless Bean-and-Egg Salad Deviled Ham Sandwiches Cheese-and-Pecan Nut Sandwiches Bacon Sandwiches Noisette Sandwiches Pimento-and-Cream Cheese Sandwiches Corned Beef-and-Mustard Sandwiches Peanut Butter-and-Olive Sandwiches Lady Finger Rolls Parker House Rolls Rye Biscuit Apple Turnovers. Banbury Tarts. Jelly Tarts Grape-fruit Marmalade. Currant Jelly Gherkins. Melon Mangoes Cold Coffee. Hot Coffee Grape Juice. Pineappleade Lemonade [Illustration: CORNER OF LIVING ROOM IN BUNGALOW] The Boston Cooking-School Magazine VOL. XV AUGUST-SEPTEMBER, 1910 NO. 2 Quaint Customs and Toothsome Dainties By Frances R. Sterrett Popular hotels and big cafés are much the same the world over, whether you find them in New York, Paris, Cairo or Calcutta. There is the same staff of uniformed, expectant servants, the same glittering decorations and appointments, the orchestra plays the same selections, and the throng of well-dressed guests looks as though it might have been transported bodily from one to the other. Love of variety sends the traveler, away from all this glare and glitter, to some quaint resort that had its group of patrons when the United States was young, and which still retains many of the customs that were features of the common life a century or more ago, and that now are so unusual that they prove strong magnets for the tourist. Nearly everybody who goes to London finds his way, sooner or later, to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in Wine Office Court. Tucked away, as it is, just off of Fleet Street, it presents anything but a pretentious appearance and more than one party of timid American women has hurried away, disappointed at sight of its dingy court. But the dinginess is all on the outside; within, there is light and warmth, and cheery greeting. The Cheese was a coffee house beloved by Samuel Johnson, and the chair in which the great man sat, night after night, while busy Boswell listened and took copious notes of the interchange of wits, is still there, standing now beneath the big portrait of Dr. Johnson that hangs on one side of the fireplace. Oliver Goldsmith was also a regular patron of the Cheese, which is one of the few meeting places of the literati of the eighteenth century that still remain. Indeed, these old relics of the past are fast disappearing. Five years ago, when I first visited the Cheese, the waiter, impressed with my interest in the old associations, asked if I would care to see the house in which Johnson lived. It was near at hand, but he said emphatically, "You'll have to hurry for they are tearing it down at this minute." Hurry we did and arrived in time to see the dismantling of the last row of windows. Ye Olde Cheese is too good a source of revenue for it to be destroyed, and the prospects are that for years to come Americans will flock there to exclaim over the high paneled walls and the sanded floors. The tables still stand between high-backed benches, over which the newspapers are hung, as they were in Johnson's day. The old grill is on the second floor, and over its gleaming coals innumerable kidneys and chops have been brought to culinary perfection. Beefsteak pudding, which is served on Wednesdays, with all the pomp and ceremony of ancient days, is an attraction that fills the tables and sends away dozens of envious men and women, who can get no more than a sniff of the Old English dish, as it is borne in triumph through the rooms. Other days have their specialities, but it is the beefsteak pudding that is the favorite, and if you delay your arrival, the prospects are, you will have to be satisfied with a kidney or a chop, for not a scrap of pie is ever left. But with toasted cheese to follow, the kidney is not a bad substitute, and it brings with it, also, a flavor of Dickens and Thackeray, whose heroes dined frequently on such fare. With the luncheon comes Devonshire cider, another speciality of the house, if you do not care for beer or ale, but beer or cider is served in reproductions of the pewter mugs that Dr. Johnson drank from, and, for a consideration, you can carry one away, wrapped in an odd bag of woven reeds. The visitors' book at the Cheese makes interesting reading while you wait for your chop, for it is embellished with pen drawings by the famous artists of the world, and enriched with sentiments from poets, novelists, musicians, politicians, capitalists, and others whose names are known on more than one continent. [Illustration: "YE OLDE CHESHIRE CHEESE, A COFFEE HOUSE BELOVED BY SAMUEL JOHNSON"] Buszard's on Oxford Street is not as familiar to Americans, but it has an interest of its own, for it has made wedding cakes for royalty for many years, and the models displayed in the show-room form an amusing exhibition to the American who has little idea of what a royal wedding cake should be. There they stand six or seven feet tall and in as many tiers, each ornamented with almond icing, inches thick, and sugar piping, with coats of arms and heraldic devices, and bearing on top a sugar temple surmounted by doves and other hymeneal emblems. The account of a fashionable wedding in the English society papers usually closes with the line, "Cake by Buszard" or Bolland, for Buszard in London and Bolland in Chester make most of the wedding cakes that are served in England, and they send hundreds of them to the colonies, so that the English bride, even if she be far from home, can have "Cake by Buszard." And most delectable cake it is, too, and if you wander into the heavily furnished, rather gloomy tea-room at the tea hour, you will find it well filled with city and country people and a sprinkling of foreigners who are partaking of the conventional afternoon refreshment where their grandparents or great grandparents, perhaps, were refreshed. Tea for two shillings allows you to eat all the cake you wish, but unfortunately physical limitations prevent you from trying half of the delicious confections in the tray beside you, the almond pound, Dundee, Maderia simnel, rich currant, muscatel, green ginger, cheese cakes and Scotch short bread, all made from ancient recipes. It is difficult to choose a favorite, although the Scotch short bread never tastes quite the same as it does in one of the popular tea rooms on Princes Street in Edinburgh. Newhaven, just outside of Edinburgh, used to be more famous for its fish dinners than it is now and, perhaps, you will find no other party in the hotel coffee room where at least four kinds of fried fish, no one of which you can find on this side of the water, are served for a shilling, sixpence. Newhaven is visited for its picturesque fishwives; and the women look more as though they had just been brought from Holland than as descendants of Scandinavians who crossed in the time of James IV. They have been singularly conservative in their habits, and, owing to a strict custom of intermarriages, there are only a few names to be found in this colony of fisher folk, who have to resort to nicknames for identification. [Illustration: FROM THE COFFEE-ROOM WINDOW YOU CAN SEE THE QUAINT NEWHAVEN FISHWIVES] If you are a tourist of the feminine gender, you will probably stop at the Globe Inn, in Dumfries, for a lemon squash, or a ginger ale, although you may be brave enough to ask the rosy-cheeked landlady for a small glass of what Robert Burns used to order; for the Globe Inn is the Burns' Howff, and down its narrow court the poet slipped nightly to the brightly-lighted room where his companions waited. The chair in which the poet lolled is still there, and a right stout affair it is, and with stout arms. It is kept securely locked behind wooden doors, and the landlady made a great ceremony of opening them and insisted on each of us trying the capacious seat. "Perhaps you write poetry yourself?" she asked; but we had to confess that we felt no more gifted with rhymes in Burns' chair than in our own inglenook in America, and followed her up the stairs to the old-time room filled with relics. "Americans come a long way to see these old pieces," she said, as she motioned majestically to a punch bowl, and then moved to the window on whose pane the poet had written the verses to "The Lovely Polly Stewart." "You seem to think a sight of Burns? There was one American gentleman who offered me a pot of money, if I would let him take the Howff to a fair in America, but I make a tidy living out of it here and God knows if we would ever live to cross the ocean. Burns lived and died here, and what would do for him will do for me," humbly. There are many colleges in Oxford, but at no one of them is the tourist supposed to find refreshment in the dining halls, so that it was something of a triumph to be given a tart in one of the quaint old kitchens. The tart was really a tribute to an interest in the pantry shelves which were filled with pastry, and in the explanatory list that hung beside them. Tarts have been made in the same fashion at this Oxford college for several hundred years, in order, the cook explained, with a twinkle in his eye, that the students might get what they wanted, when they slipped down on a night tart raid. It is the nick in the edge that has told generations of students the contents of the tart; an apple has only one nick, a mince has two at each end, a gooseberry three, and so on until a student who has learned the rule can choose his favorite in the dark. Winchester, the old royal city of England, has so many places of interest, the cathedral, the famous Winchester school, the castle, in which hangs King Arthur's round table as it has hung for several hundred years, that the traveler who is there but for a day may not have time to share the wayfarer's dole at St. Cross hospital which is distributed today just as Bishop Henry de Blois, a grandson of William the Conqueror, arranged almost eight hundred years ago. This wayfarer's dole consists of a horn of ale and piece of white bread, and anyone who knocks at the hatchway of the porter's gate is entitled to receive it. About thirty wayfarers are given it daily as well as many notable people and curious travelers who knock at the door for the novelty of sharing in a picturesque survival of a mediæval charity. Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote of his experience, "Just before entering Winchester we stopped at the Church of St. Cross, and after looking through the quaint antiquity we demanded a piece of bread and a draught of ale, which the founder, Henry de Blois, in 1136, commanded should be given to everyone who should ask it at the gate. We had both from the old couple who take care of the church." When you are in Paris you must not forget Rumpelmeyer, the "king of pastry makers." His shop is unpretentious, considering his vogue, and the room is all too small on a pleasant afternoon for the throng which would invade it. There are representatives from the far corners of the world. Americans are all about you; at the next table is a Russian grand duchess, perhaps, with her cavaliers; nearer the wall sits a woman from the Orient, whose soft silk draperies are in strange contrast to the modish Parisiennes; a group of children chatter of South Africa to their attendants and two natives from India have not doffed their spotless white turbans. [Illustration: SHARING IN A PICTURESQUE SURVIVAL OF A MEDIÆVAL CHARITY] Rumpelmeyer's might be considered a glorified cafeteria, and the great moment of your visit to the café is when you have taken the fork and plate from the smiling maid, and stand hesitating beside the table laden with cakes. And such cakes! Fluffy balls rolled in chocolate and cocoanut, maple crescents, diamonds of paste enriched with French fruits, tiny tarts filled with glacéd cherries, half an apricot or a plum; cornets heaped with cream of pistachio or strawberries, pastry and sweetmeats in every appetizing form, until it is difficult to make a choice. At last with plate laden you find your way to the table where something new in ices, cool or hot drinks, is served. And as you go away, you cast a lingering glance at the patisserie table and plan to come, again and again, until you have tried every kind, not knowing that new confections are offered every few days to make such a plan almost an impossibility. [Illustration: THE HOSPITABLE PEOPLE OF VOLENDAM] In strange contrast to the smart Parisian café is the Hotel Spaander in quaint Volendam, and if it is not the season you may be alone on the piazza which is swept by the bracing winds from the Zuyder Zee, and where the picturesque hospitable people give you a cordial greeting. And palatable as were the marvelous cakes of Paris, they were no better than the Dutch raisin bread, Edam cheese and mild beer that forms your luncheon. Volendam is but next door to Edam, the home of the popular cheeses, and the thin shavings seem to have been made to accompany the delicious raisin bread of Holland. The Spaander is a popular rendezvous for artists, and the big rooms have been adorned with paintings and sketches by the men and women who have enjoyed its hospitality. The bright-faced girl, who serves you, was taught to speak English, perhaps, by some artist who may be a member of the British Royal Academy now, and she loves to tell you of the notable people who have come and gone, and she fairly carries you away to see the homes of the fisher folk. She explains their marvelous clothes, and declares that the huge silver buttons worn by the men and boys were used as a mark of identification in case of drowning, for each district in Holland has its own design. She calls your attention to the old china, pewter and brass, and giggles approval when you pass the school and slip a copper into each of the wooden shoes at the door. Everybody takes at least one ice at Florian's on St. Mark's Square in Venice for at Florian's you are sure to see the world and his wife, especially, if you are there on an evening when the band plays in the square. Florian's ices are world renowned, and its patrons are as cosmopolitan as Rumpelmeyer's, and, as you eat your way through the pink or chocolate cone of sweetness, you will find the price of it in the bottom of the dish. There is no room for argument over the charge, for in the bottom of every dish, in plain figures, is its cost, two francs or two francs, fifty. And after you have paid the reckoning, the waiter turns over the dish as a sign that your debt is canceled, and you are at liberty to sit and listen to the music and watch the people for as long as you wish. Nearly every European city has a café or a restaurant that is of special interest, not because of its smart patronage or high prices, but for its quaint customs, old dishes or drinks, and it varies the routine of galleries and historic buildings to hunt them out. They add a spice, a zest, to what might become rather a dreary round of sight seeing, for no one appreciates the old customs more than the American. There are some travelers who make a point of stopping at the Three Tuns in Durham, no more to see Durham's beautiful cathedral, if the truth were told, than to have the trim maid bring them a tiny glass of cherry brandy to "drink to the health of the house," a custom that was young two hundred years or more ago, although it must be confessed that, while the custom has been retained, the glasses that hold the delicious cordial are considerably smaller than they were in the days when the request was first made. Being Married By Mrs. Chas. Norman The morning paper tells of a man and woman who got married after only a few hours' acquaintance. Unfortunately, this couple cannot claim to have done anything unique. Numerous persons have done likewise--at least the newspapers say so--though the statement is one which makes upon a sane mind an impression of confusion. I say confusion, not to mention other effects. After reading the announcement, I looked into the dictionary to see if it could be true, and I judge it is possible. Marriage, according to Webster, is the act which unites the man and woman, and, while it seems impossible for a real union to take place in so brief a time, still there is probably no other way of telling in the English language what has occurred. It might well happen that the persons so hastily "joined" should become married in the course of time. Certain metals really mix and stick together even after the heat of welding has died out, but no mere ceremony can unite, though it be performed by the holiest of ministers or the most profound legal interpreter. And, as it is impossible for any third person to "unite" man and woman, so it is out of the question for any third person to give any legitimate advice as to whether or not the man and woman should unite, unless by chance the third person discovers that the real union or disunion already exists. An ambitious young lady stopped to see me on her way to New York. She was about to sail for Europe, and she told me, confidentially, that she was engaged to marry a clergyman of this country, and that she "might marry him," if she failed to get a certain position she hoped for in Paris. I could not refrain from saying, "Do not marry," and she took it that I was either averse to matrimony or to the young man. Such supposition was incorrect. I simply disliked to see any man irrevokably tied to a woman who took him only because she could not get something else. I explained this to the girl, but it did no good. She said I was "sentimental and not at all practical." I confessed to a little sentiment on the subject of wedlock, and refrained from adding that I should rather be truthful than practical, but I told her that, if she had accepted her lover, conditionally, her course was entirely honorable, and then, to relieve the _heaviness_ of the conversation, I repeated these lines, which she laughed at very moderately indeed: "I, Pegg Pudding, promise thee, William Crickett, That I will hold thee for mine own dear lily, Whilst I have a head in mine eye and a face on my nose, A mouth in my tongue and all that a woman should have, From the crown of my foot to the sole of my head." The attention of my guest flagged a little and, when I completed the stanza, she confessed she was thinking of a Philadelphia girl whose resolution she much admired. During a sojourn in Europe, this girl had refused sixty-five offers of marriage--I hope I have the number exactly right--having determined to marry no one of lower rank than a prince. I sped my guest to New York and Europe, and after her departure no ghost needed to come from the grave to tell me why marriage is so often a failure. We hear this thing and that thing given as a reason. Responsibility enough is to be laid at the door of men, but let women confess a share in the desecration of the sacred ordinance. Is it possible to think of a marriage resulting well that does not begin in truth, and continue in truth? Let truth, at least, be counted an essential. After truth, let the candidate consider the necessity of sacrifice. Present-day girls cannot claim much more of that element than boys. If modern women have a hobby more general than another, it must be the development of their individuality. This is a fine thing, but let those who are over-zealous on this point remain single or remain rational, for it is scarcely fair to develop one's individuality to the extinction of another person's rights. To speak the truth, a proper individuality is never oblivious to others. Women would be learned and wise, but they fail to see that the very richest return of wisdom comes from putting forth their full strength _where it is due_. God has provided that recompense for all dutiful activity, and it often happens that the circumstances that would seem to retard mental development are its greatest stimuli, and the saving of the much-cherished individuality is accomplished by self-forgetfulness. Marriage is one of the apparent interruptions to intellectual progress--especially a woman's. We often hear of the fine career a certain person might have had, unmarried. Such talk signifies nothing. In the first place, age does not always fulfill the promises of youth. Many a young man has started well in life and failed through no fault of his companion. A discerning man will not be apt to choose a frivolous woman, though we often hear the contrary. A bright girl, though she may remain single and devote herself to herself, is not sure of a successful career. Some womanly virtues are certainly fostered best in a home. Love is, to many women, what the tropics are to vegetation. On the other hand, there are women who seem to be created for public benefactions and isolated labors. Concentration in any line of business is bound to bring definite results, but definite, tangible results may not be the best results. A man who assumes some domestic responsibility must abridge his public services, and, as it is only public services that make a show, his life seems less valuable. "I like you better since you married," said a frank old lady to a young man, and he laughed and answered: "I used to know a great many things, but they were all wrong, every one of them! It takes a sensible wife to straighten out a man's mental distortions." Doubtless his wife could have reversed the compliment. The pictures of unhappy marriages are hung in every household which the American press can possibly reach: the good marriages attract no attention. Natural reverence prevents those who know anything about them from telling what they know. We do not talk glibly of God's love. The theme is sacred. Just as sacred, and very personal, is the other subject. No man of sense, who loves his wife, says much about it, even to his intimate friends. What adult, with reason, goes about seeking advice upon matrimony? Marriage is for persons of mature minds, and it is absolutely an individual matter, each case deciding itself. Let those who doubt concerning matrimony stay out of it. Let those who are already in it, remember that it is a solemn compact between two persons and that any action is unbecoming and inconsistent which does not result to the advantage of both. The Regeneration of Podunk By Phoebe D. Roulon Jack and I arrived at Podunk just in "strawberry time." Did you ever stop to consider what a mandatory phrase "strawberry time" is? Jack and I did to the fullest, for from one end of Podunk highway to the other, in every farmstead that was the happy possessor of a strawberry patch, the proclamation had gone forth that berries were ripe and must be "done up" at once. There is no such thing as procrastinating with Nature, especially in her fruit department. Infinite in patience, unsparing in pains from the first inception of the berry to its maturity, when once her creative work is accomplished, she lays the finished product at your feet and henceforth waives all responsibility. Put off until tomorrow what should have been "done up" today and Nature will seek vengeance upon you and show you your folly. Mrs. Simpkins might better save her breath than to enter the protest that she cannot possibly "can" today, for the minister and family are coming to dinner. Nature makes no exception for even the clergy. When Mrs. Hopewell declares she must take her butter and eggs to market today and so cannot do another stroke of work after one o'clock, Nature simply smiles complacently from the four corners of every ruddy berry basket and says, "Take me now in my perfection, for tomorrow it will have passed away." In obedience to this inexorable law Podunk was making ready. Brass kettles were being scoured and granite ones were coming forth from their winter hiding places. With one accord Podunk was becoming a huge canning and preserving factory, with as many annexes as there were houses with berry patches. Day after day the process went on, for day after day a fresh supply demanded attention. Overworked and tired housewives groaned in spirit and slept in meeting as a result. Everybody's nerves were a little on the bias until the strawberries were settled for the winter. To a casual observer it seemed as if Nature's lavishness had outrun Podunk's gratitude, and as if strawberries were becoming a nuisance. As I said, Jack and I arrived just at this crisis in the farm life of Podunk. Indeed, within an hour after we landed, and amid the chaos of unpacking, a gentle maiden tapped at our kitchen door and importuned us to buy some preserving berries. Jack has a sweet tooth and I saw at a glance that he had not missed the vision of rows of red jars on the swinging shelf in the cellar, and Sunday night teas of jam, long after the last strawberry had ripened and decayed. But he desisted and let her depart without buying a berry. This I call heroic and manly, and told him so on the spot. Of course the well had not been pumped out, the water-pail had not been unpacked, the grocery supplies had not arrived. There had not been a fire in the stove for eight months, and there was no split wood in the wood shed, but men have been known to expect household routine to go on under conditions quite as hindering, therefore I repeat, that Jack, in the face of vanishing sweets, showed fortitude and consideration. But it was plain that "strawberry time" had made an impression on his mind that took somewhat the form of a problem. Now Jack is never happier than when he has nuts to crack or problems to solve. He is that all-round type of man that can and does bring the same philosophic trend of mind to bear upon matters domestic as upon civic and national affairs. We had come to Podunk to rest, but Jack always rests in motion, and in less than a week after our arrival I saw him go forth to canvass the community. For days and days he was as glum as an oyster, leaving me to guess what he was up to, but I have so long known the limitations to his capacity for holding in and carrying a secret, that I could wait in patience for the unbosoming. It came on one of those chilly, rainy nights in June,--the sort of night that Jack always expects and gets warm gingerbread for supper. Gingerbread always puts him in a talkative mood. We had each taken a second cup of tea, when Jack looked up and said, "Do you realize, my dear, that this canning and jellying process is only just started for the season in Podunk? I find that our Fourth of July not only proclaims American independence but also the proper time for making currant jelly, and so, unless Nature plays us false, the same ordeal must be repeated, with only the difference that 'currant' will be written on the label instead of 'strawberry.' And still another repetition, when raspberries are ripe and blackberries grow sweet and luscious. Again when the huckleberry bushes give up their treasures, shadowing forth a winter supply for pies. Then come the peaches, pears and plums, followed by apples, grapes and quinces. Between times, lest the hand forgets its cunning, there are peas, corn, beets and tomatoes to be rescued for future use. And the season ends with a pickling tournament. "It hardly seems creditable, but from here to Podunk Hollow, a distance of less than two miles, and only sparsely settled, I find by actual count that there are thousands of cans of fruit and hundreds of glasses of jelly prepared every season. From 'strawberry time'--indeed some ambitious housekeepers start in with rhubarb in April--until the last luckless green tomato is snatched from Jack Frost, there is a mad rush on the part of the farmer's wife to keep apace with Nature and to take care of her bounties with a thrifty hand." By this time Jack was ready for a second helping of gingerbread and proceeded. "Don't you see, my dear, that this is an awful waste of muscular energy and stove fuel. Don't you see that consolidation and coöperation at just this point would emancipate these women quite as much as the telephone and the rural delivery? "Furthermore, I believe there is fruit enough that goes to waste every year, which, if rescued, would not only pay for the running of a community kitchen, but also give a handsome bonus for civic beautifying. It is my firm faith that Podunk can earn the foundations of a fine library, within the next three years, by simply saving the waste of fruit and vegetables within her own borders. She has a market already established at the summer colony of Bide-a-wee." The third piece of gingerbread gave Jack the courage to make a clean breast of everything, and to confess that he had called a meeting and made all the necessary arrangements to start a community kitchen for canning and preserving, to be ready this season for the currant crop. Jack always persists that my impulsive opposition is his most helpful ally, so I never feel hindered in giving it. But I said "You have surely never looked at this problem from the psychological standpoint. You have never calculated the personal pride of every housewife in her own handiwork, done in her own way, the way tradition has made sacred to her. Eliminate the personal touch from half the preserve closets of Podunk and you rob them of their glory and half of their flavor. There are some things that cannot be consolidated and coöperated and this is one of them. Why! Mrs. Patterson would be inconsolably wretched, if she thought a jar of peaches would ever stand in her cellar that did not adhere to the formula of one and three-quarters pints of sugar to three pints of water. Now Mrs. Smith is equally loyal to one and one-half parts sugar to three parts water." "And as for jelly making, it has a hedge about it as conservative and invulnerable as a Chinese wall. Instance, our beloved Mrs. Thornton. That splendid spirit of housewifely excellence that we have always admired in her would be wholly inundated and wrecked, if she ever had to set before us, on her own tea-table, a glass of jelly that had been made by heating the currants before they were crushed, and straining the juice through cheesecloth instead of flannel. To Mrs. Thornton there is but one right way, the cold and flannel process. "Even I, Jack, dear, must own up to feeling an unpleasant sensation down my spinal column, and a vexatious agitation in my mind, whenever I see jelly boil more than five minutes after the sugar is added. Nay, my Worthy Wisdom, let me entreat you to carefully consider ere you intrude upon the sacred precincts of jelly-making with any ruthless tread. "As for pickling, it is an established fact that every housewife pickles to suit the taste of her family and her rule lies in the palate of said family. You know that the Joneses are always strong on the onion flavor, while the Millers emphasize cinnamon and allspice! Fancy consolidating these flavors into a blend and expect either family to be contented and happy. "Worthy as your Community Kitchen idea is in its inception, I fear it is doomed to failure. It uproots too many of the 'eternals' of housekeeping." Jack received my volley of opposing arguments, not only with fortitude but with apparent satisfaction, and simply said, "Have you finished?" As I had, he again took the floor. "Now, I am sure that my foundation is secure and my psychological attitude all right, for all the objections you mention were brought up, in one form or another, at the meeting we held, and I was able to meet every one of them. No, my dear, I do not mean to uproot the 'eternals' and the Joneses shall stand for onion flavor to the end of time. The personal equation will always be considered. Each farmer will simply send his consignment of berries or fruit with explicit instructions as to recipes to be followed, just as our great-grandfathers sent their grist to the mill to be ground and ordered middlings left in or middlings left out, according as to whether it was for pancakes or bread. Those worthies took it on faith that they brought back the same grain they carried and there need be no question now. Farmer Dunn's marrowfats need never get mixed with Deacon White's telephone peas, and Mrs. Thornton can always send her flannel jelly bag. "It is my opinion that the good wives will have gained enough leisure time to come to the Kitchen and inspect the process while their batch of fruit is being handled." So closely are faith and works related in Jack's philosophy of life that in an incredibly short time Podunk awoke one morning to find the abandoned Haskell house turned into a "Community Kitchen," in charge of a New England man and his wife, of thrift and learning. They began on the currant crop. Of course, since Jack was behind the innovation, I had to show my faith by sending the first lot, with instructions that the jelly should be boiled only one minute after the sugar was added. The twenty glasses of tender crystalline jelly that stood on my pantry shelf the next day needed no argument and so encouraged my nearest neighbor that she sent half of her picking to the Kitchen. I saw that it caused a wrench, but she supported herself on the consciousness that she was only risking half. But the jelly that came back adhered so closely in color, taste and texture to the "traditional" that the other half was sent without a qualm. This made a beginning and by the time the raspberries were ripe a dozen families were converted. When the fall fruits came on, it had grown into such a fashion to send the preserving out that the capacity of the Kitchen was somewhat taxed. An evaporating outfit was added, that saved hundreds of bushels of apples from absolute waste. A simple device for making unfermented grape juice brought profit enough the first year to paint the town hall, build over the stage and buy a curtain that never failed to work. The second year a "Sunshine" Laundry was added to the Kitchen, which proved a great boon. Podunk had wrestled with the domestic problem, but like the rest of the world had not solved it, and was left to do its own washing. As the name suggests, the "Community Kitchen" was established on a coöperative basis, with the understanding that after all running expenses were paid and each contributor had a certain share of profit, proportioned to the amount of surplus material he contributed, all the remaining profit was to go for the improvement of the town. The "Kitchen" is now three years old and every visitor coming to Podunk naturally wanders into the pretty new library on Main Street. The sweet-faced librarian is always cordial and tells you with unmasked pride that this is the first library built of fruit and vegetables. But complete regeneration came not to Podunk, until the Culture Club became an active organization, impelled forward by the brain force of the women of the community. Given a margin of leisure, it was demonstrated that culture will flourish as persistently in rural districts as in city precincts. Shakespeare and Browning were not neglected, nor were Wagner and Mendelssohn. Nature study, Domestic Economy and Civic beautifying opened new and broad avenues of culture, and classes in these subjects were held every week. The women of Podunk began to know their birds and to call them by name. The church suppers took on a new aspect, for the dietetic unrighteousness of four kinds of cake and three kinds of sweet pudding, at the same meal, was openly discussed and frowned upon. Deacon Wyburn, who had a tooth sweeter even than Jack's, declared, at first, that this was heresy that should not be allowed to enter the sanctuary. But regeneration came to the deacon as indigestion departed. And all of this happened, because Jack saw the need of an emancipation proclamation and the people of Podunk availed themselves of its freedom. I have always said that Jack was a man among men. Fate Great men live in word and deed, Tho' the hand that sows the seed No harvest knows. Fixed as is the rolling sea By its bounds, so this shall be To thee and those; Something lost and something won E'er the life that hath begun For thee shall close. --_Grace Agnes Thompson_ Out of Chicken Pie By Helen Campbell "The point is," said the young woman, "never to spend any time in self-pity and never mention one of whatever afflictions may have been apportioned to your individual self. The first takes your strength and spoils any good work you might do. The second is a bore to your friends and destruction to self-respect. In the first grip of things it is possible one may send up a howl. But at that or any other time, no matter what the impulse, Don't!" Was she a young woman after all? For, as she brought out the "Don't!" staccato, I looked again. Really she seemed more like a nice boy, well up in athletics, and as far on in general college work as athletics permit. Her hair was short, cut close to her head, yet curly, and though rather a dark brown, yet showing gold where little tendrils had their way, here and there, behind an ear or on her slender neck. Her hands were small, of course, for she was a Southern woman, generations of whom had no need to use their hands in any coarsening work, yet could and did use them in delicate cookery, preserving, and the like, and knew every secret of cutting and generally overseeing the garments for a plantation. Delicately formed, straight as a dart and with the alert expression of a champion tennis player, she stood at the gate into the chicken-yard, and smiled a delightful smile. "I shouldn't tell you one word," she said, "if you hadn't come from so old a friend. Oh, privately I would tell anyone interested, but printing is another matter. It will help, you say. I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps, but I somehow seem to think most find out for themselves, perhaps by a good many experiments, just what to do. But I will tell you just how it began with me. Nellie has told you, I don't doubt, that I was left a widow with three children. We had lived in town, after my marriage, in a rented house. When my husband died and I presently summed up my capital, it was, first, the children, then, not quite two hundred dollars left in the bank after the expenses of the long sickness and the funeral were paid. Added to this were nine hens and a rooster that I had kept at the end of the little garden at the back of the house, our cat and dog and about a fortnight's supplies in the pantry. Our clothes, too, were in fair amount and order. That was all. Lots of people came to condole with me and tell me what to do, but not one made what seemed to me a really practical suggestion. I knew what I could do, or thought I did, which amounts to the same thing, if you really go ahead and do it. I did it. "The first thing was to move into the country, where I had longed to have the children. It isn't country now exactly, for the station is not far away, but the house was out of repair, and I had the option of buying it at the end of the year, if I wanted it then. The owner couldn't do much and was glad to think it might be off his hands, and I took it for eighty dollars a year--this to include a few repairs. "There was a big garden, not tended for years, not a fruit tree, and the four acres outside the fenced-in garden one mass of brush. My next neighbor was a farmer from the North, come South for his health and getting it, and he took an interest from the beginning; he ploughed my land for me, and agreed to go over it with the cultivator when it was necessary, but I must first manage to rake up and burn up all the weeds and sticks, etc. The children helped me and we made a spree of it. I bought a cow of him, a good one, and, as one of my hens had begun to set on a box of nails, decided she should have eggs. He had some fine, pure-blooded Plymouth Rocks, and mine were Wyandottes, just as good and no fear as to crossing breeds, and so I started in. What I was after was broilers, and if broilers wouldn't support us, why there was something else that I felt sure would, and that was chicken pies. You smile, but let me tell you they weren't everyday chicken pies. Our old Dilly on my father's plantation was a champion chicken-pie maker, in demand for every wedding and general church entertainment, and she taught me just how, swearing me to secrecy long as she lived. So I watched her many times, realizing, at last, that it meant using the very choicest material straight through. No old hens simmered all day long to make them tender. On the contrary, she demanded the choicest broilers, and she made, not exactly puff paste but the most delicate order of pastry to put them in. To season to a turn and with no variation, and to have the gravy smooth and rich, these were her secrets, and I learned them so thoroughly that after once sampling them there was no further trouble as to orders. I sent little individual pies to every hotel and restaurant in the city I had left. I had bought a good cow, as I said, and soon bought another, to have plenty of cream, for that was one important item in the pies, and as the work got too much for me alone I presently had a girl to help, and at last another, all of us doing steady hard work, but liking it. I raised the chickens, you see, though I often hated to have them killed, and by this time we had small fruits, and all that grows in a well-kept garden. The children helped as well as went to school and were rosy, healthy creatures, my comfort and joy, and they always have been. I never have cleared over five hundred a year, but what more do I need? I make ten cents clear on each individual chicken pie and fifteen on the larger ones. Specials I make as large as people want them, but I prefer the little ones. Three sizes are made every day, and some families, who go away for the summer, have their chicken pies expressed to them each week and won't do without them. Some people fuss and say they are too rich. Others want me to charge less and say, if I would use lard instead of butter in the pastry, I could sell cheaper. But I answer that it is my business never to fall below the standard. Aunt Dilly would turn in her grave if she thought her rule was to have lard used instead of butter. I made some experiments and found it was distinctly best to stick close to the old original text. You can buy cheap pies anywhere and they taste cheap. These melt in your mouth. And you ought to know that two other women in the neighborhood have specialties, too, and I taught them, for my mother used to make a delicious chicken jelly for sick people and one woman does that and has a big market for it at the Woman's Exchange, and another makes cornbeef hash for three restaurants and has all she can do. The gist of it is _good cooking can always be made to pay_. Keep to the best form you can find, never vary, and a living, and often much more, is certain. When women learn that, perhaps more of them will turn in this direction. Here is the home paid for, trees growing and yielding, children growing too, and Tom almost ready for college, and chicken pie has done it, and will keep on doing it, perhaps as long as I live. At any rate I should never stop doing something as perfectly as I could for that is half the fun of living. Don't you think so? We keep the evenings for as much of a good time as possible. I keep a little of my old music and play accompaniments, for Tom has a fine baritone voice and we all sing, and Edith and her violin take the kinks out of any day's work. We have a fair little library and do not mean to fall behind or forget what quiet progress means. It has been a happy life, thank God! How could it help being so, with such children and a certain sure thing to do?" Yes, how could it help being thus with such a spirit at work to bring it about? That was the thought as I looked at the mother, and wished that all dolorous and uncertain women might have the same chance. Joining the Sunshine Circle or the Harmony Club might be the first essential. After that things would take care of themselves. In August Cora A. Matson Dolson For me a basket and a book Where cooling hemlocks grow; And, in the deep of wooded nooks, The spikes of cardinal glow. A book to bring but not to read-- Enough to know it near, To turn a leaf I do not need, The song is with me here. A bird-note comes adown the wood, It seems to stillness wed; A tap, then gleam of scarlet hood High in the tree o'erhead. The Indian-pipe is waxen stemmed; The squirrels near me play; While on this bank by mosses gemmed I dream the hours away. Old Age By Kate Gannett Wells Old age becomes more of a problem when living in it than when viewed afar off. It is a question of economics and ethics more than of wrinkles. It is so easy not to mind it when well, rich and beloved; it is so impossible not to object to it when sick, poor and unwelcome. It creeps into almost every home and, though we try to alleviate it and succeed to a certain extent, through affection, cookery and cleanliness, the vast majority of the world does not know how to manage to live on almost nothing, and yet it is upon those of small or of no means that the support of old age presses most heavily. So love only is left, and too often not even that. Then one wonders if one ought to refuse marriage and devote one's self to one's parents;--or, if married and children are many, and food and lodgings scant, shall one also house one's aged parents? If the ethics thereof are difficult to settle when money and space are available, it is a hideous task for decision when both are lacking. Nowhere does the attempted settlement to remove the stigma of pauperism from the aged through legislation threaten to be more puzzling than in England, where after January 1, 1911, a workhouse inmate of above seventy years and "fairly respectable" is entitled to leave the house and receive in lieu of its shelter five shillings a week. Is acceptance of such pension outside of a workhouse more honorable than being dependent on Government for support inside the workhouse? That is the question the Old Age pensioners of England are trying to solve. Who is going to house, feed and clothe them for five shillings a week? What does that amount to, set against the care of an infirm, old, undesired relative who is not wanted either for his keep or his affection, and who will only grow older? Even as a boarder of no kin whatever to his landlady, is he likely to be as comfortable as in the workhouse? Startling have been some of the discoveries that have followed upon this apparently beneficent legislation. Well was it that Miss Edith Sellers of England, of her own free will, visited relatives of the inmates of a London workhouse, hoping to carry back to the latter place the joyful tidings that they were wanted in families. Alas! out of 528 such inmates only 221 had any relatives, and more than half of that number knew that, if they went to their kinspeople, they would not be taken in. Some who had felt sure of a welcome were bitterly disappointed. "Old folk give no end of trouble; keeping them clean takes up all one's time. Besides they must have somewhere to sleep," was generally answered. One grown-up daughter, supporting herself, her mother and brother in two rooms, one no better than a cupboard, grieved she could not take back her father. Other sons and daughters, by blood or by law, waxed indignant at being urged to receive their kinsmen, even for the sake of the shillings. They had neither room nor food for them; each generation must care first for its own children and not take up burdens of parents, worse still of grandparents, aunts and cousins once gotten rid of; especially, if they were of the drunken variety, as was too often the case. Fortunately Miss Sellers found a few other homes which promised to receive a pensioner for the sake of his pension, or from real affection. After all the bitter work-a-day life in these narrow homes, attics, cellars, two or three rooms at most, would have been more wretched for the pensioners to bear than their blighted hopes. "To work a bit harder," in order to take in one's aged mother, is not possible in thousands of cases. Better to remain a workhouse pauper and be sure of warmth, cleanliness and food than to wander forth uncared for or to be an unwelcome burden on an overworked child. Therefore is it that the English Old Age Pension Act does not solve its own problem, for the infirm or sick must still be sheltered in some refuge which should have no workhouse taint of pauperism attached to it. However much there may be among us of similar reluctance to take home aged pauper relatives, it has not yet become a matter of public investigation, though, if it were, it is possible that there would be as much unwillingness manifested here as in England. Certainly many of our almshouses and homes for the aged poor suggest that there will be the same forlorn hopes shattered, if pensions should ever be conferred instead of legal residences in almshouses. Fortunately for us, old age is still an individual question. All the more, then, should elderly people not let themselves get crabbed. Of course, if other people would not nag one with being old, one would not be,--quite so old! What old age, whether poor, middling or well-to-do lacks is amusement. It is lonesome to keep jolly by remembering that one's mind ought to be one's kingdom. Meditation is all very well, but so also is the circus, the "greatest value of which lies in its non-ethical quality." Even if it has its symbolism, it does not mercilessly set one to moralizing, save as a three ring circus and a "brigade of clowns" (the result of trying to make as much money as possible) incites to weariness. The real "gospel of the circus" lies in its democracy, in its revealings of the power of training on acrobats and animals through kindly persistence, and in the mutual good will and law abiding qualities of the household of a circus. Always has it belonged to the people, and even ministers have not been discounted for their attendance. It seems a wide jump in fancy from old age to a circus, and yet to me they are intimately connected through the dear old people, poor and well to do, whom I have known, who found in it their objective base for amusement. To them the clown and his jokes were links in the spirit of human brotherhood. Alas, as a pension of five shillings a week will not permit of the circus in its glory, old age asks for the minor blessings of five cent shows, public parks, and good tobacco. Just to be out doors is rejuvenating. All the more is amusement desirable, because legislation has undertaken to set the goal when one shall no longer work. To retire teachers, officers, workers, merely because they are sixty-five or seventy is an insult to human nature, which rejects any arbitrary limit save that of incapacity. The average of average people, though perhaps unable to earn their living after seventy, are still capable of being occupied. Therefore let the old folks work at household and woodshed drudgery as long as they can, however irritating their slowness may be to the young and merciless. Let the old serve also in semi-public ways, because of their experience, even if they are not wanted round. It is a common saying that it is harder to resign office at seventy than at sixty, just because old age clings to occupation as its protection. But if with most of us, if not with all, as the years increase, occupation shrivels and the fads or hobbies, the solace of earlier days, cease by their very weight to be pursued,--then may there still be amusement provided for the elderly before they become "Shut Ins," dependent on Christmas and Easter cards for enjoyment. Love and Affection By Helen Coale Crew I love thee not, Love, though thou'rt called divine! Thou pagan god, whose flashing fires glow But for a season; then the winter's snow No colder lies than ashes on thy shrine. Thou selfish child! Ready to fret and whine When disappointed. Wandering to and fro In quest of joy, from flower to flower dost go Like greedy bee upon a honeyed vine. But thou, Affection, human art, and true! Fitted for every day's most urgent needs; Warm-glowing ever, all the seasons through; Mother of tenderness and selfless deeds. Clear-seeing thou, nor like that other blind; Clear-burning on the hearths of all mankind. Three Girls go Blackberrying By Samuel Smyth Grandpa told Mary that he saw a few blackberries in the pasture. Mary hastened to inform Mina that there were bushels of ripe blackberries in the pasture. Mina hurried to tell Jane, and almost breathlessly suggested that they go and get them before anybody else found them. Jane thought it would be more comfortable after sundown. Mina said that they would be gone before that time, and insisted that they go at once. Outnumbered, Jane reluctantly consented. Mary must change her dress; so must the other two. Much time was spent in that operation, for it included the special dressing of the hair, also. There was much impatience manifested by Mary, the first to declare herself ready; but after the others appeared she suddenly thought of several things that she must attend to. At last each inquired of the others, "Well, are you ready?" "Yes, in a minute," said Mina. "I forgot to put on cold cream to prevent sunburn." "So did I," said Jane; "and, Mary, you had better use some, also, or you will regret it." "I think I will," said Mary; and a good half hour has passed before they are all downstairs again, when the old question was asked again, "Are you ready?" "Had we better wear rubbers?" asked Jane. "No," answered Mary, "but I am going upstairs to put on an old pair of shoes." "That is sensible," said Mina. "I think we all had better follow Mary's example, as it won't take a minute." Upstairs they all went again; much talk and another half hour passed when each made the declaration, "Well, I am ready, are you?" with much emphasis on the personal pronoun I. "Are you coming with me?" said Mary, and she started in the direction of the pasture with great animation, when Jane inquired, in a loud voice, if she were not going to take something along to put the berries in. "To be sure I am. In my hurry I entirely forgot it. What shall I take?" asked Mary. "We ourselves have not yet decided. Which do you think would be better, Mary, a basket or a pail?" "I don't know and I don't care what you take, I am going to take a paper bag," replied Mary. "It is light and convenient, and we can easily destroy all evidence of failure in case we fail to get any berries." "Thank you, Mary, for the happy suggestion. We will take paper bags. What size will be suitable?" "I think," said Jane, "that if we each fill a flour sack, that will be sufficient for once. It is such a job to carry so many or to make them into jam." "To obviate any chance for envy as to which shall gather the greatest amount of berries, let us take along a common, large receptacle, into which each of us shall deposit as often as our smaller vessels shall be filled." "That is a thoughtful and wise plan for an unambitious person. I assent to the proposition," smilingly answered Mina. A bushel basket was found and all agreed to take turns in carrying it to the pasture. At last, the procession was formed, after several more short halts for consultation and criticism, and was finally under way for the pasture. But when in the highway, which they had to cross to reach the same, they were accosted by two ragged boys with, "Say, girls, do you want to buy any berries; only five cents a quart; twelve quarts--all there were in the pasture, every one, and it's the last picking of the season." "Oh dear, I told you so; I knew it would be this way," said Mary petulantly; "some people are so slow." "It is too provoking for anything," said Mina, "and it will be so humiliating to return to the house without any berries after making such a hullabaloo," sighed Jane. "Oh, girls!" exclaimed Mary, "let's buy the berries of the boys and divide them between us. Let's see, twelve divided by three equals four; four quarts is a very reasonable and respectable amount for an ordinary person. You hold them while I run home and get the money." After the transfer of the berries was completed, the three girls returned to the house, triumphantly smiling, and happy, with the twelve quarts of berries. Mingling with the rest of the family, I could not refrain from speaking about what fun it was to go berrying, when suddenly grandpa remarked, "that four quarts was a very reasonable and respectable amount for an ordinary person." Grandpa had been sitting on a fence, concealed by bushes, and had seen the whole performance. A quick, suspicious, comprehensive glance passed between the conspirators, when the suspense was broken by the voice of the shock-headed boy who yelled out, "Say, girls, do you want to buy any more berries for tomorrow?" "How provoking!" said Mary. "How humiliating!" assented Mina. "I feel so ashamed I shall never feel right again. Why did we dissemble? Prevarication is a kind of a lie; I never want to hear the word 'blackberries' again," moaned Jane. A Romany Tent By Lalia Mitchell When you bring your pledge of a lasting love, A love that is fond and free, Oh, whisper not of a castle high, Or a yacht that sails the sea. I want no tale of a palace fair That towers over loch and lea; But a table set in the open air And a Romany tent for me. When you whisper words that should please me well, When you woo me, Sweetheart mine, Oh, paint no picture of wealth and power, Of silks and of jewels fine. And breathe no word of the jostling throng, For my heart would fain be free; I go where the woodland paths are long, And a Romany tent for me. Will you meet my wish, will you walk my way? Will you chart the flower-strewn lea? Will you curb your pride, will you keep the faith, The faith of my company? I will bear no yoke, I will wear no brand, But my heart shall be true to thee, So give me the world for a home, and love In a Romany tent for me. EDITORIALS THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE OF Culinary Science and Domestic Economics JANET MCKENZIE HILL, Editor PUBLISHED TEN TIMES A YEAR Publication Office: 372 BOYLSTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. SUBSCRIPTION, $1.00 PER YEAR. SINGLE COPIES, 10C FOREIGN POSTAGE: TO CANADA, 20C PER YEAR TO OTHER FOREIGN COUNTRIES, 40C PER YEAR TO SUBSCRIBERS The date stamped on the wrapper is the date on which your subscription expires; it is, also, an acknowledgment that a subscription, or a renewal of the same, has been received. Please renew on receipt of the colored blank enclosed for this purpose. In sending notice to renew a subscription or change an address, please give the _old_ address as well as the _new_. In referring to an original entry, we must know the name as it was formerly given, together with the Post-office, County, State, Post-office Box, or Street Number. Entered at Boston Post-office as second-class matter * * * * * Summer The Springtime has gone with its verdure and song, The fragrance of bud and the fullness of flower, And now o'er the grainfields the harvesters throng To gather in triumph the glad Summer's dower. The orchards are bending with fruitage today And vineyards are purple with grapes juicy sweet; Our hearts are exultant, our voices are gay, As Summer flings down all her wealth at our feet. O Summer, bright Summer, the queen of the year, We praise thee, and love thee, and share of thy bliss; Thy mornings are happy, thy evenings are dear, Thy hours are all golden, not one would we miss. --_Ruth Raymond._ "WHERE THERE IS NO VISION, THE PEOPLE PERISH." Often life becomes dull and irksome because our living and working seem to be in vain. We are constantly asking ourselves, how we can make our lives worth living. Now, in accordance with the consensus of modern thought, it would seem that the better way to live is, while ever taking active interest in the current affairs of the day, to cherish some lofty aim or purpose, in other words, "to formulate and cultivate a vision." A vision is the aim, purpose, object or ideal we set before us in our several occupations in life. As we find it stated elsewhere, "A vision, a creative vision, is a pictured goal. There is purpose and vigor in it. It is productive of results, and the loftier the vision, the higher the attainment." In life and history it is easy to distinguish the man of vision from him who is without high aim. "Eat, drink and be merry" is the maxim of the one, while faithful service in trying to make the conditions of life better, far and wide, is characteristic of the other. Likewise, the nature or quality of every man's vision is capable of discernment. Certainly no aim or low aim is almost crime. Each of us must find his vision in his own occupation or calling in life. There each must strive not only to grow and enrich his own life, but also that of the few or the many about him, as chance or environment permits. "Not for success, nor health, nor wealth, nor fame, I daily beg on bended knee from Thee; But for Thy guidance. Make my life so fit That ne'er in condemnation must I sit, Judged by the clear-eyed children Thou gav'st me." To the home-maker, for instance, with an ideal like this, life cannot seem listless and futile, nor of such an one can it be said that her life has been lived in vain. Does it not follow that the only life worth living is that which is actuated by a real purpose, a lofty ideal, a clear vision? How much in the way of successful and happy living depends upon our ideals! Let us look well to _our aims_; waste no time in idle dreaming, but keep ever before us some far-away and hopeful vision. PROGRESS AND REFORM We believe that progress is made by means of genuine reform. In every instance we find ourselves on the side of wholesome reform, for in this way only true progress seems to lie. The changes that have taken place within the past fifty years in our educational system are great, indeed. No doubt these changes have been beneficial in the main, and yet further changes are still needful. Certainly, according to recent developments, some change seems to be called for in our reformatory institutions. In general, it seems to us the transition from our schools and colleges to the imperative duties and occupations of life is too abrupt, too difficult and sadly unsatisfactory; at least this is true in case of the majority of young people. Education should prepare one to pass easily and readily into some chosen occupation, and the first need of every human being is the chance to earn a living; since every one should earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. Do our schools fit or unfit our youth for life's real work? Can they engage at once and successfully in some congenial occupation? Until these questions can be favorably answered, we advocate reform in our forms of education. Labor we must; a taste, even a fondness for wholesome, necessary labor should be cultivated in our schools. It has been stated and confirmed by those in authority that $300,000,000 might be saved per year in the conduct of our government on a strictly business basis. If this be true, here reform, good and true, is an imperative need. Such a condition of affairs is in no sense humorous. For what do we choose our legislators? Is it to squander or conserve the revenues and resources of the State? Likewise, in ways of living or the conduct of life, reform is ever in order, provided thereby gain can be made. It has been said that "The whole moral law is based on health. The ideal body is the proper shrine for the ideal soul,--a truth that has yet to be educated into the modern consciousness. Righteousness and health should go together. This is an eternal law,--a law that covers society, education and morality. The real meaning of the word 'temperance' is a careful use of the body. It has nothing primarily to do with mere abstinence from certain forms of pleasure. A man says to himself, I am in possession of a mechanism which will endure a certain amount of wear and usage, but it is the most delicate of all machinery, and for that reason it must be used with more consideration than even the fine works of a watch. Intemperance, of any sort, means unnecessary wear and tear. It increases the waste of the system, the rapidity of the living process, so that repair cannot keep up with use, and it burns where there should be the clear light of life." DON'T KILL THE BIRDS For a number of years the scientific investigators have been arguing that a bird--almost any bird--was worth a good deal more to the country alive than dead; worth more in the glorious freedom of its habitat than on my lady's hat or on the plate of the epicure. It has been shown by the dissection of birds and the examination of their stomachs just what seeds and insects they eat. These examinations have made it clear that most birds live principally on the seeds of pernicious weeds, and on the insect and small mammal pests against which the farmer has to wage an increasing fight every year. It is true that some birds damage crops and it is true that any birds will do damage if there are too many of them--just as the extreme congestion of people results in disease and immorality. But under normal conditions of distribution almost any bird is an able assistant to the agriculturist and horticulturist in the protection of his crops against their most dangerous enemies. * * * * * The steady increase in the cost of living during the period of a year and a half ending on the last day of March, 1910, is strikingly demonstrated by a bulletin issued by the Bureau of Labor of the Department of Commerce and Labor. It is shown by the careful investigation into the course of prices of 257 commodities, which enter into the everyday life of the average man, that prices last March were higher than at any time since twenty years ago; that in that month it cost the consumer 7.5 per cent more to buy the necessities of life than it had cost him in March, 1909; 10.2 per cent more than in August, 1908; 21.1 per cent more than the average range of prices for 1900; 49.2 per cent more than in 1897,--a rate of progression which is causing a country-wide agitation for means and measures of relief. Yet it is shown that prices in 1909, high as they were, still ranged 2.3 per cent below those for 1907, the costliest year in the period beginning with 1890. ECONOMY, WISE AND UNWISE We are trying to publish a magazine in every sense worth renewing. That we are succeeding to a certain degree is shown by the increasing number of our readers who are renewing their annual subscriptions, and calling for back numbers, in order to bind their volumes and keep them in permanent form for future reference and use. Not long since we shipped to Calcutta, India, back numbers, to complete a full set of fourteen volumes, up to date. A woman who seems to have no special need of the magazine wrote recently, "I am sending my renewal because it seems to me the magazine is entirely too good a publication not to be found in every good home." Though the cost of living at present is high, we hope no good, earnest housekeeper will begin to practice economy by cutting off her list the only publication, to which she has subscribed, that is devoted exclusively to the teaching of practical, wholesome economy in the management of the household. The subscription price of this magazine will not be increased. For _three_ dollars we offer to renew the subscription of any reader for _four_ years. * * * * * A Lift for Every Day Lincoln's rules for living: "Don't worry, eat three good meals a day, say your prayers, be courteous to your creditors, keep your digestion good, steer clear of biliousness, exercise, go slow and go easy. Maybe there are other things that your special case requires to make you happy, but, my friend, these, I reckon, will give you a good lift." * * * * * "This cook-book will do very nicely," said Mrs. Nuwedd to the book department clerk; "and now I want a good, standard work on taxidermy." "We don't keep any in stock," said the clerk. "How annoying!" sighed the young housewife, "and I not knowing a blessed thing about stuffing a fowl!" [Illustration: Terrine of Chicken and Cooked Ham Garnished: Aspic Jelly and Lettuce Hearts] Seasonable Recipes By Janet M. Hill In all recipes where flour is used, unless otherwise stated, the flour is measured after sifting once. When flour is measured by cups, the cup is filled with a spoon, and a level cupful is meant. A tablespoonful or a teaspoonful of any designated material is a _level_ spoonful of such material. Clam Broth, Chantilly Style This most refreshing broth may be served hot or cold. Canned broth may be used, or, when fresh clams are obtainable, the broth may be fresh made from either clams in bulk or in the shells. For clams in bulk, to serve eight, take one pint of fresh opened clams, two stalks of celery, broken in pieces, and one quart of cold water. Bring the whole slowly to the boiling point and let boil five minutes. Skim carefully as soon as the boiling point is reached. Strain through a napkin wrung out of boiling water. Season with salt, if needed; add also a little paprika or other pepper. Beat one cup of double cream until firm throughout. Set a tablespoonful of the cream on the top of the broth in each cup. Bisque of Clams and Green Peas Cut a slice of fat salt pork (about two ounces) in bits; cook in a saucepan until the fat is well tried out but not in the least browned; add a small onion, cut in thin slices, two new carrots, cut in slices, one or two branches of celery, broken in pieces, and stir and cook until softened and yellowed a little; add one pint of green peas, a branch of parsley and a pint of water and let cook till the peas are tender, then press through a sieve. Cook one pint of fresh clams in a pint of boiling water five minutes; drain the broth into the pea purée; chop the clams and add to the purée. Melt one-fourth a cup of butter; in it cook one-fourth a cup of flour; stir until frothy, then add one quart of milk and stir until boiling. Add to the other ingredients and let boil once. Add salt and pepper, as needed, and from one-half to a whole cup of cream. Purée of Tomato, Julienne Chop fine about two ounces of raw, lean ham; add an onion, cut in thin slices, two small new carrots, sliced, half a green pepper, sliced, and two branches of parsley; cook these, stirring often, in two or three tablespoonfuls of fat from the top of a kettle of soup. When lightly browned, add the bones from a roast of chicken or veal, the skinned feet of the chicken, and the uncooked giblets, if at hand, two quarts of water and one quart of tomatoes, cut in slices. Let simmer one hour and a half. Strain through a fine sieve, pressing through all the pulp (no seeds). Reheat, stir one-fourth a cup of flour with cold water to pour and stir into the boiling soup. While the soup is cooking, cut in short julienne strips two stalks of celery, an onion, a carrot and a cup of string beans; let cook in salted water with a teaspoonful of butter until tender; drain, rinse in cold water and set aside to serve in the soup. Simple Tomato Bisque (Soup) Scald one quart of milk with a stalk of celery and two slices of onion. Press enough cooked tomatoes through a sieve to make one pint; add half a teaspoonful of salt and pepper as desired. Stir one-third a cup of flour and a teaspoonful of salt with milk to make a smooth batter; dilute with a little of the hot milk, stir until smooth, then stir into the rest of the hot milk. Continue stirring until smooth and thick; cover and let cook fifteen minutes. Strain into the hot purée, mix thoroughly and serve at once with croutons. Jellied Bouillon (Two quarts) Have about four pounds of beef from the hind shin, cut it into small pieces; melt the marrow from the bone in a frying pan; in it cook part of the bits of meat until nicely browned. Put the bone and the rest of the bits of meat into a soup kettle and add five pints of cold water. When the meat is browned, add it to the soup kettle. Put a cup or more of the water from the soup kettle into the frying-pan; let stand to dissolve the glaze in the pan, then return to the soup kettle. Cover and let simmer four or five hours; add half a cup, each, of sliced onion and carrot, one or two large branches of parsley, one or two stalks of celery and let cook an hour longer. Strain off the broth and set it aside, first, if necessary, adding boiling water to make two quarts of broth. Add also two teaspoonfuls of salt, half a teaspoonful of pepper and an ounce (half a package) of gelatine, softened in half a cup of cold water. When cold and set remove the fat; break up the jelly with a spoon or silver fork; serve in bouillon cups at any meal where it is desired. Green Corn Chowder (To Serve Six) Cut two slices (about two ounces) of fat salt pork into tiny bits; let cook in a frying-pan until the fat is well tried out, taking care to keep the whole of a straw color. Add two small onions, or one of medium size, cut in thin slices, and let cook until softened and yellowed, add a pint of water and let simmer. In the meantime pare and cut four potatoes in thin slices, cover with boiling water and let boil five minutes; drain, rinse in cold water and drain again, then strain over them the water from the onions and pork, pressing out all the juice possible. Add more water, if needed, and a teaspoonful of salt and let cook until the potatoes are tender. Add a pint of green corn, carefully cut from the cob, and one pint of milk, also salt and pepper to season. Mix thoroughly and let become very hot, then serve at once. Two or three tablespoonfuls of butter may be added, by small bits, and stirred into the soup just before serving. Escalloped Oysters Finnelli (The Caterer) Select a shallow au gratin dish; pour into it about two tablespoonfuls of melted butter and turn the dish, to spread the butter over the whole surface. Sprinkle lightly with crushed saltine crackers or oysterettes; upon the crumbs dispose a layer of carefully cleaned oysters; sprinkle with salt and paprika or other pepper and pour on three or four tablespoonfuls of rich cream; add crushed crackers, oysters, seasoning, one or two tablespoonfuls of butter, in little bits, then more cream. Finish with a thin layer of cracker crumbs and enough cream to moisten them. Let cook in a very hot oven about ten minutes or until the crumbs are straw color. [Illustration: TERRINE OF CHICKEN AND HAM, COOLING] Terrine of Chicken and Ham Scrape the pulp from the fibers in half a pound, each, of veal and fresh pork; pound this pulp in a mortar; add the yolks of two raw eggs, half a teaspoonful, each, of salt and paprika and, if desired, two tablespoonfuls of sherry and pound again, then press through a sieve. Remove the bones from the breast, second joints and legs of a young chicken, weighing about two pounds. Have an oval terrine, or shallow casserole, that holds about three pints. Line the bottom and sides with thin slices of larding pork. The pork should be cut exceedingly thin. Over the pork spread a thin layer of the veal forcemeat mixture, over this put a thin slice of cold boiled ham, on the ham a layer of forcemeat, then half of the chicken (light and dark meat); sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper, spread with forcemeat, a layer of ham, forcemeat, chicken, forcemeat, ham, forcemeat and, lastly, a layer of larding pork. Pour in half a cup of broth, cover, and set the terrine into an agate dish or a saucepan. Pour in boiling water to half the height of the terrine and let cook in the oven one hour and a half. Remove the cover and set a board with weight upon it over the meat, to remain till cold. Remove fat and loosen the meat from the dish at the edge. Unmold on a dish. Ornament with tiny cubes of jelly (made of broth from the rest of the chicken and the trimmings of the veal, thickened with gelatine), slices of truffle and lettuce hearts. This dish is suitable for high tea, lawn parties, picnics and automobile baskets. Lettuce served with it should be seasoned with French dressing. [Illustration: BOLOGNA STYLE SAUSAGE WITH PINEAPPLE FRITTERS] Bologna Style Sausages with Pineapple Fritters Prick the sausages on all sides that the skin may not burst in cooking. Set into a moderate oven in a frying-pan. Let cook about half an hour, then turn them and let cook another half hour. Just before the sausages are done pour some of the fat into another frying-pan (or keep the sausage hot on the serving dish and use the original pan). Have ready some half slices of pineapple, roll these in flour and let cook in the hot fat until browned on one side, then turn and cook on the other side. If preferred the pineapple may be dipped in fritter batter instead of flour. Dispose the pineapple at the ends of the dish and serve at once. [Illustration: COLD MEAT WITH VEGETABLE SALAD] Cold Meat with Vegetable Salad Cut cold meat of any variety in thin slices; trim off all unedible portions and dispose neatly in the center of an ample dish. Around the meat set heart leaves of lettuce, each holding six or eight cold, cooked string beans, cut in pieces, a few slices of radish and a slice of cooked beet. Pour vinaigrette sauce over the whole or set a tablespoonful of mayonnaise or tartare sauce above the vegetables in each nest. Tomatoes, cut in slices or in julienne strips, may be used in place of the beet and radish, but not with either of them. Vinaigrette Sauce Allow a tablespoonful of oil and half a tablespoonful of vinegar for each service. To this add one-eighth a teaspoonful of salt and pepper as desired, gherkins or capers (the latter with cold lamb), chives (or onion juice), chervil and parsley to taste, all chopped exceedingly fine. [Illustration: CHICKEN-AND-HAM RISSOLES] Chicken-and-Ham Rissoles Cut tender cooked chicken and ham, three-fourths chicken and one-fourth ham, into tiny cubes. The meat may be chopped, but it is preferable to have tangible pieces of small size. For one pint of meat, melt three tablespoonfuls of butter; in it cook four tablespoonfuls of flour and half a teaspoonful, each, of salt and paprika; when frothy stir in one cup of chicken broth and half a cup of cream; stir until boiling, then add a beaten egg; stir until cooked, then stir in the meat and let cool. The mixture should be quite consistent. Seasonings, as onion or lemon juice, celery salt, or chopped truffles, or fresh mushrooms, broken in pieces and sautéd in butter, may be added at pleasure. Have ready some flaky pastry or part plain and part puff paste. Stamp out rounds three and a half or four inches in diameter. If plain and puff paste be used have an equal number of rounds of each. On the rounds of plain paste put a generous tablespoonful of the meat mixture, spreading it toward the edge; brush the edge of the paste with cold water; make two small openings in each round of puff paste, press these rounds over the meat on the others, brush over with milk, or yolk of egg diluted with milk and bake in a hot oven. Serve hot with a tomato or mushroom sauce, or cold without a sauce. Cold corned beef is good used in this way. Rissoles are often brushed over with egg and fried in deep fat. [Illustration: CHEESE SALAD IN MOLDS LINED WITH STRIPS OF PIMENTO] Cheese Salad Line each "flute" in small fluted molds with narrow strips of pimento. For this recipe six or seven molds will be needed. Beat one cup of cream, one-fourth a teaspoonful, each, of salt and paprika till firm. Soften half a level tablespoonful of gelatine in about one-eighth a cup of cold water; dissolve by setting the dish in warm water. To the dissolved gelatine add half a cup, generous measure, of grated cheese of any variety. Stir until cool, then fold into the cream. Use this mixture to fill the molds. When cold and firm unmold and serve with a plain lettuce salad. French or mayonnaise dressing may be used with the lettuce. Bread or crackers should also be provided. Hot pulled bread or toasted crackers are excellent. As the pimentos flavor the dish strongly, nothing that does not harmonize with them should be presented at the same time. If the pimento prove objectionable--they sometimes cause flatulency--strips of uncooked tomato may be substituted. Plain Pastry Sift together two and one-half cups of pastry flour, a teaspoonful of baking powder and half a teaspoonful of salt; work in half a cup of shortening, then stir in cold water as is needed to make a paste. Knead slightly on a floured board; cut off half the paste for the lower rounds. Flaky Paste Roll the other half of the paste into a rectangular sheet, dot one half with tiny bits of butter, fold the unbuttered paste over the other, dot half of this with bits of butter, fold as before, dot one half with butter, fold as before, then roll out into a thin sheet for the upper rounds. The paste may be chilled to advantage before rolling. In pastry making a magic cover may be used more successfully than a marble slab. [Illustration: PEARS BÉATRICE] Pears Béatrice Cut choice pears in halves, lengthwise; remove the skin and the seed cavity. Cook tender in a little sugar and water. Cut into small bits enough French candied fruits to half fill the cavities in the pears. Mix the fruit with apricot, peach or apple marmalade and use to fill the open spaces in the pears. For a dozen halves of pears, scald one pint of rich milk; sift together, several times, three-fourths a cup, each, of sugar and flour, dilute with some of the hot milk and stir until smooth and return to the rest of the milk; stir the whole until thick and smooth, cover and let cook fifteen minutes, stirring occasionally. Beat the yolks of five eggs; add one-fourth a cup of sugar and half a teaspoonful of salt and beat again, then stir into the hot mixture; continue stirring until the egg is cooked, then fold in the whites of five eggs, beaten dry, continuing the cooking and folding until the white is set or cooked. Flavor with a teaspoonful of vanilla extract. Turn part of this cream into an au gratin dish (sometimes called cocotte and sometimes Welsh rabbit dish). Dispose the pears in the cream, cover with the rest of the cream, sprinkle the whole with dried and pulverized macaroons, mixed with melted butter. Set the dish into the oven to brown the crumbs. Serve hot in the dish. [Illustration: GREEN CORN AU GRATIN IN RAMEKINS] Green Corn au Gratin in Ramekins Cook one slice of onion and a slice of green pepper, chopped fine, in one or two tablespoonfuls of butter, until softened and yellowed; add two tablespoonfuls of flour and half a teaspoonful of salt and cook until frothy; add two cups of thin cream and cook and stir until boiling, then stir in sweet corn, cut from the cob, to make quite a consistent mixture. One or two beaten eggs may be added, if desired. Turn into buttered ramekins and cover with two-thirds a cup of cracker crumbs mixed with melted butter; let cook in the oven until the crumbs are browned. Serve as an entrée at dinner or luncheon, or as the chief dish at supper or luncheon. [Illustration: KUGELHOPF KUCHEN SLICED AND TOASTED] [Illustration: KUGELHOPF KUCHEN READY TO SHAPE] Kugelhopf Kuchen for Afternoon Tea Take one pound of flour (four cups), ten ounces (one cup and a fourth) of butter, two tablespoonfuls of sugar, one-fourth a teaspoonful of salt, one cake of compressed yeast, two or three tablespoonfuls of lukewarm water and seven eggs. Soften the yeast in the water, mix thoroughly, and stir in enough of the flour to make a soft dough. Knead the little ball of dough; with a knife slash across it in opposite directions and drop it into a small saucepan of lukewarm water. Put the rest of the flour, the salt, sugar and butter, broken up into bits, into a mixing bowl; add four of the eggs and with the hand work the whole to a smooth consistency, then add the rest of the eggs, one at a time, and continue beating each time until the paste is smooth. When the little ball of sponge has become very light, at least twice its original size, remove it with a skimmer to the egg mixture, add a cup of large raisins, from which the seeds have been removed, and work the whole together. Let stand to become double in bulk. Cut down and set aside in an ice chest overnight. Shape on a board either into a loaf or buns. When again light and puffy bake in a quick oven. Cut the cake into thick slices. Toast these over a quick fire, being careful (by not moving the cake while toasting) to retain the lines of the toaster. Spread with butter, sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon, mixed, and serve at once on a hot napkin. The sugar and cinnamon may be omitted. [Illustration: PEACH SALAD] Peach Salad Set pared halves of choice peaches in nests of lettuce hearts and pour on enough French dressing to season nicely. Sprinkle with blanched almonds cut in thin slices. For a change, omit the nuts and set chopped celery, mixed with mayonnaise dressing, in the open space of each half of peach, or the nuts may be mixed with the celery. Fresh or rather firm canned peaches may be used. Use lemon juice as the acid in both the French and mayonnaise dressings. [Illustration: GRAPE JUICE PARFAIT SPRINKLED WITH CHOPPED PISTACHIO NUTS] Grape Juice Parfait Boil one-third a cup of grape juice and three-fourths a cup of sugar to 240° Fahr. or until it will spin a thread two inches in length. Pour in a fine stream upon the whites of two eggs, beaten dry, then beat occasionally until cold. To one cup and a fourth of double cream add half a cup of grape juice and the juice of a lemon and beat until firm throughout. Fold the two mixtures together and turn into a quart mold; cover securely and pack in equal measures of rock salt and crushed ice. When unmolded sprinkle with fine-chopped pistachio nuts blanched before chopping. [Illustration: WATERMELON CONES] Watermelon Cones Cut a ripe and chilled watermelon in halves, crosswise the melon. Use a tea, soup or tablespoon, as is desired. Press the bowl of the spoon to its full height down into the melon, turn it around until it comes again to the starting place, lift out the cone of melon, remove the seeds in sight and dispose on a serving dish. When all the cones possible have been cut from the surface of the half melon, cut off a slice of rind that extends to the tip of the cones, then remove the red portion of the melon in cones as before. Grape Juice Sherbet Prepare as peach sherbet, substituting grape juice for peach juice. Scald the grapes and strain through cheesecloth. Cool before freezing. Menus for a Week in August "_As a business there is nothing derogatory in the preparation of our daily food, and the rewards are greater than in many walks of life._" SUNDAY =Breakfast= Red Raspberries, Cream Floradora Buns (reheated) Coffee =Dinner= Bisque-of-Clams and Green Peas Stuffed Tomatoes Cheese Salad Toasted Crackers Peach Sherbet, Whipped Cream Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Cold Corned Beef, Sliced Thin Potato Salad Tiny Baking Powder Biscuit Hot Coffee MONDAY =Breakfast= Barley Crystals, Thin Cream Corned Beef-and-Potato Hash Rye Meal Muffins Sliced Tomatoes Coffee =Dinner= Hamburg Steak Corn on the Cob Stewed Tomatoes Blackberry Shortcake Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Shell Beans, Stewed Cream Toast Berries. Tea TUESDAY =Breakfast= Grapes Omelet with Creamed Fish Flakes Baked Potatoes Zwiebach. Coffee =Dinner= Guinea Fowl, Roasted Candied Sweet Potatoes Apple-and-Celery Salad Baked Rice Pudding, Vanilla Sauce Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Green Corn Custard Bread and Butter Sliced Peaches Sponge Cake. Tea WEDNESDAY =Breakfast= Melons. Broiled Lamb Chops Maître d'Hôtel Butter French Fried Potatoes German Coffee Cake. Coffee =Dinner= Guinea Fowl Soup Broiled Swordfish, Parsley Butter Mashed Potatoes Cucumbers, French Dressing Eggplant Fritters. Lemon Sherbet Little Gold Cakes. Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Egg Salad, Garnish of Sliced Tomatoes Graham Bread and Butter Blueberries. Tea THURSDAY =Breakfast= Melons. Eggs Cooked in the Shell Green Corn Griddle Cakes Toasted Bread, Buttered. Coffee =Dinner= Fried Chicken. Corn Fritters Boiled Cauliflower, Hollandaise Sauce Berry Pie Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Succotash (Green Corn and Shelled Beans) Hot Apple Sauce Cream Cheese Cookies Tea FRIDAY =Breakfast= Grapes Barley Crystals, Thin Cream Fish Flake Balls, Bacon Rolls. Sliced Tomatoes Yeast Rolls. Coffee =Dinner= Boiled Swordfish, Egg Sauce Boiled Potatoes. Pickled Beets Summer Squash Grape Juice Parfait Marguerites. Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Creamed Celery with Poached Eggs on Toast Berries. Bread and Butter. Tea SATURDAY =Breakfast= Barley Crystals, Thin Cream. Sliced Peaches Field Mushrooms (Campestris) Stewed, on Toast Eggs Cooked in the Shell Yeast Rolls. Coffee =Dinner= Simple Mock Bisque Soup Swordfish Salad with Vegetables Blackberry Shortcake Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Cold Tongue in Jelly Mayonnaise of Eggs-and-Lettuce Hot Yeast Rolls Sliced Peaches. Tea Menus for a Week in September "_Men drink because they have a sinking feeling; good food satisfies that craving permanently._"--ADELAIDE KEEN. SUNDAY =Breakfast= Melons Egg-O-See, Thin Cream Country Ham, Broiled. Sliced Tomatoes Broiled Potatoes. Corn Meal Muffins Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Chicken, Roasted. Green Corn Custard Sweet Potatoes, Southern Style Cauliflower, Hollandaise Sauce Celery, Club Style Peach Sherbet. Sponge Cakelets Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Clam Broth Apple Sauce. Bread and Butter MONDAY =Breakfast= Barley Crystals, Thin Cream Minced Chicken on Toast Broiled Tomatoes. Rye Meal Muffins Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Stuffed Flank of Beef, Roasted Tomato Sauce Green Corn on the Cob. Baked Squash Endive, French Dressing Baked Sweet Apples, Thin Cream Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= New Lima Beans, Stewed, in Cream Bread and Butter Sliced Peaches. Tea TUESDAY =Breakfast= Broiled Honeycomb Tripe Maître d'Hôtel Butter French Fried Potatoes. Parker House Rolls. Blackberries. Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Chicken-and-Tomato Soup Boiled Corned Beef Boiled Potatoes, Cabbage and Beets Baked Indian Pudding Vanilla Ice Cream. Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Green Corn au Gratin Bread and Butter Hot Apple Sauce Gingerbread. Tea WEDNESDAY =Breakfast= Egg-O-See, Thin Cream Corn Beef and Green Pepper Hash Poached Eggs. Waffles White Clover Honey Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Stuffed Bluefish, Baked Cucumbers, French Dressing Mashed Potatoes. Scalloped Tomatoes Apple Pie. Cheese Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Rice Croquettes, Cheese Sauce Graham Bread and Butter Baked Pears. Tea THURSDAY =Breakfast= Gluten Grits, Thin Cream Eggs Cooked in Shell Blackberry Shortcake Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Hamburg Roast, Tomato Sauce Scalloped Potatoes Late Green Peas. Celery Peach Tapioca Pudding, Cream Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Scalloped Oysters, Finnelli, Philadelphia Relish. Tiny Baking Powder Biscuit Berries. Cookies. Tea FRIDAY =Breakfast= Codfish Balls of Fish Flakes, Bacon Stewed Tomatoes Baking Powder Biscuit, Reheated Doughnuts. Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Boiled Fresh Haddock, Egg Sauce Sliced Tomatoes, French Dressing Boiled Potatoes Late Stringless Beans Baked Apples with Meringue Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Succotash Bread and Butter. Stewed Crab Apples Wafers. Tea SATURDAY =Breakfast= Creamed Corned Beef and Celery White Hashed Potatoes Green Corn Griddle Cakes Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Veal Balls en Casserole Stewed Shell Beans Endive Salad Sponge Cake filled with Sliced Peaches, Cream Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Creamed Haddock au Gratin Pickled Beets Buttered Toast Stewed Pears Economical Menus for a Week in September _"At a small dinner, no one should hesitate to ask for more if he desires it; it would only be considered a flattering tribute to the dish."_--MRS. HENDERSON. SUNDAY =Breakfast= Egg-O-See, Top of Milk Creamed Fish Flakes Baked Potatoes Sliced Tomatoes Doughnuts. Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Boiled Shoulder of Lamb, Pickle Sauce Boiled Potatoes. Mashed Turnips Lettuce, French Dressing Peach Pie, Cream Cheese Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Cheese-and-Nut Sandwiches Hot Apple Sauce Tea. Cocoa. Cookies MONDAY =Breakfast= Broiled Honeycomb Tripe Creamed Potatoes Rye Biscuit. Coffee =Dinner= Rechaufée of Lamb with Macaroni and Tomato Sauce Summer Squash Lettuce-and-Celery Salad Rice Pudding with Raisins Coffee =Supper= Stewed Cranberry Beans Rye Biscuit. Stewed Crab Apples Rochester Gingerbread. Tea TUESDAY =Breakfast= Gluten Grits. Blackberries Green Corn Griddle Cakes Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Lamb-and-Tomato Soup Canned Salmon Heated in Can, Egg Sauce. Boiled Potatoes Sliced Tomatoes and Cucumbers Apple Dumpling Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Cheese Custard Hot Apple Sauce (Cooked in closed Casserole) Bread and Butter. Tea WEDNESDAY =Breakfast= Egg-O-See, Thin Cream Broiled Bacon Fried Potatoes Cream Toast Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Round Steak en Casserole Celery Cream Puffs Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Stewed Cranberry Beans Baking Powder Biscuit Cream Puffs Cocoa. Tea THURSDAY =Breakfast= Grapes French Hash (remnants from Casserole) Fried Corn Meal Mush Dry Toast. Coffee =Dinner= Cream-of-Potato Soup Stuffed Tomatoes, Baked or Cabbage Scalloped with Cheese Chocolate-Cornstarch Pudding, Sugar, Cream Half Cups of Coffee =Supper= Green Corn Fritters. Bread and Butter Stewed Crab Apples. Cottage Cheese FRIDAY =Breakfast= Blackberries, Sugar, Cream Fish Flakes, Country Style Baked Potatoes Graham Baking Powder Biscuit Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Boiled Swordfish, Pickle Sauce or Broiled Swordfish, Mâitre d'Hôtel Butter Boiled Potatoes Onions in Cream Sauce or Buttered Cabbage Salad. Blueberry Pie. Coffee =Supper= Potato Salad, Sardines. Rye Biscuit Baked Apples. Tea SATURDAY =Breakfast= Egg-O-See, Thin Cream Tomato Cream Toast with Cheese Corn Meal Muffins Coffee. Cocoa =Dinner= Hamburg Steak Stewed Tomatoes Squash Coffee Jelly, Whipped Cream =Supper= Creamed Swordfish (left over) Potatoes Scalloped with Onions and Cheese Pickled Beets Cookies. Tea Rhymed Receipts for any Occasion By Kimberly Strickland NUT WAFERS Here's a cake for dainty eating. Peanut butter, just a cup, In the bowl some soda meeting (Half a teaspoon, you take up). Add one cup of clear, warm water, Stir till paste is smooth as silk, Leaving not a trace, my daughter, Of the soda--white as milk. Then, still beating like a Vandal, Mix in flour just enough To form dough that you can handle-- It must be a plastic stuff. Knead this well with your ten fingers, After which roll very thin, Seek where moderate heat lingers As the place to bake it in. Let the oven do its duty, You'll discover by and by That each wafer is a beauty, When it comes out crisp and dry. BANANA SALAD Select bananas, gold of hue, And uniform in size, With care remove the fruit, and slice Quite thin--I would advise. Mix these slim rounds with pecan meats, Broken in tiny bits, And grape-fruit shredded finely, too, And robbed of all its pits. This medley next is drenched with oil, And lemon juice combined, The hollow skins are then filled up-- Or, shall we say, relined? Now place upon crisp lettuce leaves, Or curly water-cress, The golden shapes, and walnuts add, Shorn of their outer dress. FRENCH ORANGE COMPOTE Sugar and water you combine To make a syrup sweet, Adding a little lemon juice, The flavor to complete. Peel oranges, the seeds remove, Cut into quarters true, Lay in the boiling syrup next, And cook ten minutes through. Place on a crystal dish the fruit O'er which the syrup pour, And strew with candied cherries red-- To give the one touch more. In Time of Vacation By Janet M. Hill Any part of a house in disorder and confusion is a source of mental distress to a neat and conscientious housekeeper, and often an occasion for slurs from other members of the family. The number of steps to be taken and the motions to be made, each day, to keep a house in order and set three meals upon a table are often overlooked or largely underestimated. We are speaking now of the homes of the "four-fifths," where little help outside of the family is available. Mothers are thought "slow and poky" by the younger members of the family, who are inclined to value the slight and irregular assistance which they give more highly than it deserves. There are members of the family, perhaps, who should keep their strength, mental and physical, for their work away from home; but in general the young people should be trained to take a part in the responsibility of the housekeeping and home-making. If boys and girls, as soon as they are old enough, be taught to open their beds for airing, hang up their clothing and leave the bowl and bath tub in suitable condition for the next occupant of the room, the mother can prepare the breakfast and begin the work of the day without fret as to the condition of the upper part of the house, or without the mental fatigue that comes where there are so many things to be done at once that one knows not where to begin. Often where one maid is kept, too much is expected of her, even by the house-mother. With the advent of a maid, the dishes multiply and time is spent in dish washing that should be given to the larger affairs of the housekeeping. For the mother or one maid the washing of dishes must be regulated to make the work an incident and not the event of the day. We are not protesting against a change of plates, or forks, etc., for the dessert; but extra dishes for vegetables, the plate underneath the plate, both handled and therefore to be washed, much glassware that requires careful washing and polishing, all tend to prolong the time at the sink. Such work may be increased at will, when some one is hired for this special purpose, or when the daughter of the family is willing to take the responsibility of it. For the mother or the one maid, day in and day out, more necessary duties must eliminate some of the niceties of table service. We should not be "more nice than wise." We believe in work; it is the refuge and the safeguard of the race: but there must be times for relaxation and repose, and, that this be possible for each member of the family, there must be a division of labor. If one individual be a drone, some one else is obliged to work for him. We wish to emphasize the necessity of systematic training, in the doing of these daily duties, of the young people in a family. Let each child be held responsible for a certain amount of work each day. It will not burden the normal child, but will give satisfaction and a feeling of being of use in the world. No better time than this, the vacation season, can be found for putting in practice the idea herein suggested. We are admonished by many innovations that times have changed. The fact that graduates from Colleges of Home Economics are taught to see the subject in "its broad relations, both to science and to practice," and that every graduate is expected "to have a fair working knowledge of the household-arts" and be able to cook a meal or make a dress, has given the practice of the so-called homely arts an impetus that will do much for the betterment of the race. Cooking and sewing have had a renaissance. To be able to cook well is a desideratum to be desired, and rivalry in pleasing and artistic tea-rooms, "cake and cooky shops" and places for the sale of cooked food is abroad in the land. We look to see this same pleasing rivalry displayed in dressmaking rooms and laundries, where fine work can be essayed. These private and small enterprises, which might grow into larger ones, should furnish a generous return for the time and money invested and an increase in the happiness of those employed as well as of those whom they serve. All of these ventures are at once a source of independence to the serving and the served, and give an opportunity for self-direction that argues well for their permanency. Earthen dishes for cooking, which conserve heat and answer for serving as well as cooking, are to be commended at all seasons; but in hot weather, when it is eminently desirable to limit heat and work, they are more than ever a source of pleasure and comfort. Not so very long ago all such ware was imported, and the duty, added to the first cost, placed it in the list of luxuries, but now the dainty contours of all these casseroles, ramekins, terrines, au gratin dishes, etc., are duplicated in American ware, and at a price that puts the goods within the reach of all. In the seasonable recipes for this issue, terrine of chicken and ham, green corn au gratin in ramekins, and pears Béatrice are cooked in Guernsey earthen ware. An extremely useful dish in this ware is the mixing bowl in which Kugelhopf kuchen, ready for shaping, is shown. Nothing daintier for mixing purposes than this bowl of smooth and highly polished interior can be imagined; from such a surface any mixture can be rinsed with ease, and thus the labor of dish washing is lessened, which is a strong point in favor of any utensil. The Task We Love By L. M. Thornton Here's to the task we love, Whatever that task may be, To till the soil, in the shop to toil, To sail o'er the chartless sea. For the work seems light and the guerdon bright, If to heart and hand 'tis a sure delight. Here's to the task we love, Wherever it lead our feet, Through stress and strife or the simple life, For still are its victories sweet. And we never tire, if our hearts desire Flame in its dross-consuming fire. Here's to the task we love, The task God set us to do. And we shall not pale nor faint nor quail And for us there's no such word as fail, If we follow, with purpose true, The creed He writes, and the star He lights To guide our soul to the distant heights. A Group of Choice Spanish and Mexican Recipes By Mrs. L. Rice Baked Tripe, Spanish Boil four pounds of fresh tripe until tender; drain and sprinkle with salt and pepper, and arrange in a well-buttered dish. Pour over it one quart of chopped tomatoes, one large onion, sliced very thin, one-half a cup of chopped parsley, and skin of one large red pepper, minced fine, one-half a cup of chopped olives and one teaspoonful of tabasco sauce. Pour over all one-half a cup of melted butter and bake one hour. This is equal to finest fish and is certainly delicious. Chili Con Carne, Spanish To prepare the chili used in this dish: from two pods of dried red chili peppers take out all the seeds and discard them. Soak the pods in warm water until soft, then scrape pulp from the skins into the water, discarding the skins and saving the pulp and water. Cut two pounds of round steak into small pieces and cook in hot frying pan, in pork drippings, until well browned; add three or four tablespoonfuls of flour and stir until browned, then add one clove of garlic, in which two gashes have been cut, and chili water, of which there should be about one pint; let simmer until meat is tender (about two hours), adding hot water if needed. When done the sauce should be of good consistency; add salt to taste. String Beans, Spanish Take two pounds of green string beans and chop fine. Put one tablespoonful of bacon drippings in a frying pan and one onion, cut fine, half a dry red pepper, cut fine; let onion and pepper fry brown, then add three ripe tomatoes, cut fine, and stir in one tablespoonful of flour; then add one quart of cold water; then the chopped beans, with salt and pepper to taste, and let the beans cook until tender; keep adding water as needed, so as not to let them get too dry. Spaghetti à la Mexicana Fry three large pork chops brown. Fry three minced onions and two cloves of garlic in pork drippings. Put the chops and onions into a granite kettle with two cans of tomatoes and two green chili pepper pods (remove the seeds), one tablespoonful, each, of dry chili powder, brown sugar, tarragon vinegar and sage, one teaspoonful of Worcestershire sauce and celery salt, table salt to suit; let simmer slowly until pork chops fall to pieces; strain through coarse colander. This sauce should be of the consistency of thick cream, without adding any thickening. Boil one-half a package of spaghetti in large kettle of salted boiling water; do not break into short pieces, but drop ends into the water and gradually immerse the whole stick. Keep the water boiling rapidly, adding boiling water as it boils down; do not cover; let boil forty-five minutes, drain in colander and pour one quart of cold water through to blanch. Put the spaghetti into the tomato sauce and set on stove where it will keep hot, but not boil, for fifteen minutes. Arrange in a deep platter and sprinkle top with grated Parmesan cheese. Serve with grated cheese and stuffed olives. If care is taken in preparing this dish you will be rewarded with something certainly delicious, and a typical Mexican dish. Rice, Spanish Put two frying pans on the stove, and in each put one teaspoonful of bacon fat. Take one onion and four green chilis, chop very fine, salt; put this in one frying pan and cook until done without browning. In the other pan, put one cup of rice, washed and dried; stir and let cook a light brown; add the onion and chilis and one cup of tomato; fill frying pan with boiling water and let cook until rice is dry. Ice Cream à la Mexicana Put two cups of granulated sugar in saucepan over fire and stir constantly until it is melted; add two cups of English walnut meats and pour into shallow, buttered pan to harden. When perfectly cold, grate or chop fine. Crumble two dozen macaroons into fine crumbs, then toast in hot oven a few minutes. Now make a rich, boiled custard, of yolks of four eggs, one-half a cup of sugar and two cups of cream, then pour over the stiff-beaten whites of two eggs and let cool. To one quart of cream add one-third a cup of sugar and beat until thoroughly mixed, add to the custard, and flavor with vanilla or maraschino, then freeze. When half frozen add the macaroon crumbs and half of the grated walnut mixture and finish freezing. Let ripen two or three hours. Sprinkle remaining grated walnuts over the cream when serving. This is the typical ice cream of Mexico, just as it is served there. Caramels à la Mexicana Put one cup of granulated sugar in an iron skillet and stir constantly over a slow fire until the sugar is melted. As soon as the sugar becomes syrup, add one cup of rich milk or cream,[A] and stir until sugar is dissolved. Add, next, one cup, each, of granulated and light brown sugar and boil steadily until mixture forms a soft ball when tested in cold water. Take from the fire, add one cup of coarse chopped nut meats and stir to creamy consistency. Pour into shallow pans, lined with paraffine paper, spread smoothly about half an inch in thickness and mark into squares while warm. FOOTNOTE: [A] Dissolve the caramel in half a cup of boiling water, then add the cream or milk; by this means the liability of the milk or cream to curdle is lessened.--EDITOR. The Nursery By E. R. Parker It is frequently a matter of surprise to foreigners that in the average American home, which is otherwise so well equipped, little or no attention is given to the nursery, and it is to this neglect they trace many of the shortcomings of our little ones. It may be that the busy mother, who has to perform the duties of nursemaid and perhaps look after her household at the same time, sees little reason for having a room specially dedicated to the use of the children; but when one considers the necessity of regularity in the feeding, bathing, sleeping, and every other particular of the infant's daily life, such a need becomes apparent, with the arrival of the first baby. Select a room in a secluded part of the house, and one which receives all the sunshine possible, for the nursery. Fresh air should be admitted at all times, but in such a manner as to avoid drafts. For the use of the young infant, limit the furnishings to bare necessities, and have the floor and walls hard finished. It is not well to have plumbing of any kind in the room, nor should it be directly connected with the bathroom. Regulate the temperature carefully, letting it range between 75 and 80 degrees Fahr. during the first week; after that it may be kept at 75 degrees until the child is three months old, and then gradually lowered to 70 degrees or even 65, at night. Needless to say the metal crib is the most important furnishing; it should be fitted with a soft hair mattress and a thin pillow, though some persons prefer to use no pillow at all. Under no circumstances should the baby sleep with its mother, and eminent physicians now agree that it is more or less injurious for a child to sleep in the room with an adult. Dr. Cotton, the distinguished specialist for children, recommends, as additional furnishings for the infant's room, a flexible rubber bathtub, a bath thermometer, wall thermometer, scales and a double ewer and soap dish on a low table surrounded by a high folding screen. As the child grows older it will require the addition of low chairs, tables, etc., in the nursery; these should be simple and substantial. Do not fit up the nursery with broken or cast-off articles of furniture from other parts of the house. Few mothers realize what a deep impression these early surroundings make upon the child, and how nervous, sensitive children may be made to endure positive suffering from contact with unsightly objects. A window seat, that will also serve as a convenient receptacle for toys, may be made by having the top hinged on a low wooden box, and covering the box with some suitable dark material. Do not make the mistake of giving children a quantity of toys at one time; such a practice has the bad effect of dulling their sense of enjoyment and making them tire easily of their playthings. If fond relations insist upon trying to shower all the dolls and books and drums in town on them for one Christmas or birthday celebration, try putting some of them away and keeping them for rainy days or the trying period of convalescence. Toys which will excite the imagination and leave something to their own ingenuity are to be preferred to those that are complete in themselves. Among the former are paints, brushes and outline pictures, games, dolls with patterns and material for clothing, stone building blocks, which come in different sizes and shapes with designs for building. Decorate the walls with stencil designs or a few good pictures, which should be chosen with reference to the child's age. Few persons are aware that until a child is three years old he cannot distinguish clearly between green, gray and blue, hence decorations containing these colors are lost upon him, and the reason for his love of red and yellow is apparent. The Perkins pictures, issued by the Prang Educational Company, are justly popular for nursery walls, and photographs of the masterpieces can be purchased quite reasonably. A small bookcase should also be given an honored place in the nursery, for older children, and nothing but books of the very best from a literary standpoint, well printed on good paper and substantially bound, should find their way to its shelves. Cheap toy books from the five and ten cent counters, many of which are poorly bound, grotesquely illustrated and insipid in contents, had better be kept away from the children. I would rather give them one good book a year than an armful of poor ones. Some children do not enjoy being read to, but all of them love a story, and, with a little tact on the part of the mother, it is but a step from the story she tells to the one she reads, and she can easily cultivate a taste for good reading, for, after all, she is the genius that shapes and molds, and without whom the most ideal nursery is but a dreary place. We are told that even the songs she sings to the babe at her breast have an occult influence over its future life. What a power and privilege, then, are hers to guide the little groping hands and watch the unfolding mind; and surely she should spare neither time nor trouble in the accomplishment of such a task! Practical Home Dietetics By Minnie Genevieve Morse II. The Rôle of Diet in Reducing and Increasing Weight In addition to the natural and proper inclination to make the best of oneself, there is scientific reason in the stout woman's desire to reduce her weight, and the painfully thin woman's wish to take on a few more pounds of flesh; health itself is at its best when the body maintains its normal proportions, without serious loss or gain. Any considerable variation from the normal standard shows a disturbance in the balance of nutrition; either the vital fire is being fed too generously, and the excess of fuel, instead of being turned into heat and energy, is accumulating in the tissues, to be a burden to the organism and, perhaps in time, cause disease, or else the expenditure of force is greater than the supply of fuel, the bodily tissues are drawn upon to aid in feeding the fire, and all the systems of the body suffer from the insufficiency of nourishment. Stout people become increasingly disinclined to either physical or mental exertion; they are apt to suffer from indigestion and constipation, rheumatic troubles and shortness of breath; and, when a condition of actual obesity is reached, a fatty degeneration of one or more of the vital organs is liable. The insufficiently nourished person, on the other hand, is usually anæmic and nervous, the weak and faulty performance of many of the bodily functions testifying to the lack of proper nutrition. With regard to the matter of physical attractiveness, the advantage of proper proportion between the weight and the height is obvious. The too-thin woman has fewer difficulties to contend with than her too-stout sister, in fulfilling fashion's requirements, for her figure can be modified to a far greater extent by the dressmaker's art. But the face and hands cannot be filled out correspondingly, and the thin woman early takes on lines and wrinkles, usually looking much older than a plumper woman of the same age. Proper balance between the intake of food and the outgo of energy is thus necessary, both for the maintenance of good health and for the preservation of one's fair share of natural comeliness. The generally-accepted standard of weight in proportion to height which a woman should maintain, in order to fulfil these requirements, is as follows: Five feet one inch, 120 pounds; five feet two inches, 126 pounds; five feet three inches, 133 pounds; five feet four inches, 136 pounds; five feet five inches, 142 pounds; five feet six inches, 145 pounds; five feet seven inches, 149 pounds; five feet eight inches, 155 pounds; five feet nine inches, 162 pounds; five feet ten inches, 169 pounds. The purposes for which food is taken into the body are two: the rebuilding of the bodily tissues, which are constantly consumed by physical and mental activities, and the production of heat and energy. During the period of growth, the body necessarily demands a large amount of tissue-building material, and it is natural and reasonable that a growing child should have a large appetite, and be ready to eat at all times of day. If, however, a person who has come to maturity continues to eat as heartily as in early life, more food is taken into the body than is required after the growing period is ended, a heavy strain is put upon the organs which remove waste products from the system, and there is likely to be a deposition of fat in the tissues. Another factor in producing these results is the fact that the adult usually leads a far less active life, physically, than the growing child, so that less food is needed for transformation into energy, as well as for the purpose of body-building. This is even more true now than it was a few generations ago; the higher standard of luxury in the modern manner of life, labor-saving devices of every kind, and improved transportation facilities, which have almost reduced out-door exercise to a matter of country-club athletics, are among the reasons for the present-day lack of physical activity among both men and women. It must not be forgotten, however, that our high-pressure modern life also favors the existence of a class, who, instead of feeding their vital fires too generously, are inadequately nourished; among the contributing factors in this case are improper food, hasty and unattractively served meals, unhygienic ways of living, and the heavy, nervous strain that makes havoc of so many lives, in one way or another. Considering first the case of the woman who is above the normal standard of weight, it may be said in the beginning that there are few stout people who cannot safely, and without resorting to any dubious measures, reduce their weight sufficiently to improve not only their appearance, but their comfort and general vigor as well. Such results are not produced in a moment, however, and patience, perseverence and a considerable exercise of will-power may be necessary. Any decided deviation from one's usual manner of life should not be undertaken without the advice of a competent physician. Constitutions, have been wrecked, and even lives lost, by such tampering with nature's laws. Exercise and diet are the two great aids in reducing weight, but either, by being carried to extremes, or attempted under unsuitable conditions, may do more harm than good. One procedure which cannot be too strongly condemned is the use of the various "anti-fat" preparations, which are among the patent medicines that have afflicted a credulous world; such "remedies" are worse than useless, as they may do actual harm by upsetting the digestion, or otherwise disturbing nutrition, while it is beyond the power of any drug to control such a complex process as that of the balance between waste and repair in the human body. If the desired effect is actually produced, it is by a lowering of the general health. Many systems of exercises have been recommended for reducing flesh, especially about the waist and hips, and, when used in moderation, and with a physician's assurance that none of the organs of the body will be injured by their use, the following out of such a system will not only aid in reducing the weight, but will improve circulation and nutrition, and increase the general bodily vigor. The exercises usually recommended consist principally of reaching, stretching and bending movements, but breathing exercises are also useful, as deep breathing aids in burning up fat. Stair climbing, with the body erect and only the ball of the foot placed on each step, is also highly recommended, and for reducing the fat on the hips the "standing run" is especially valuable. Tennis, golf, bicycling, and horseback riding, all aid in keeping down weight. Walking is, however, the exercise _par excellence_ for stout people; not a slow and languid saunter, but a brisk pace, and a steadily increasing distance. Hill climbing, _when there is no danger of overtaxing_ the heart, is even more effective than walking on a level. A noted physician, who has successfully reduced many stout patients, lately made the statement that many fat people were willing to take any sort of treatment that was ordered for them, if only their diet was not restricted. It is upon restriction of diet, however, that the chief dependence must be placed, in the reduction of weight; exercise produces a more rapid burning up of fat in the body, but superfluous fat cannot be stored up, if the material for it is not supplied to the system. Many famous systems of reduction by restricted diet have been given to the world, but most of them are so severe that they should only be used under the direction of a physician. All of these systems require a reduction of the total amount of food taken, a restriction of the quantity of fluid allowed, and a more or less strict avoidance of those food substances which are most readily turned into fat in the body. Most of them also provide for light lunches in the middle of the morning and afternoon, as these additional meals tend to lessen the appetite at the heavier meals of the day. The fat-making foods include sugars, starches, fat meats, butter and oil. It is not safe to deprive the body entirely of these groups of food substances, since proper nutrition depends upon a wholesomely balanced diet, but the amount of them taken by the average person can be very greatly cut down without any danger to health. It is not unusual for a single meal to include a cream soup, bread and butter, potatoes, macaroni, a starchy vegetable, such as beans, a salad dressed with oil, and a rice or cornstarch pudding,--a list of articles which, as may readily be seen, contains a much larger amount of fat-making food than is required by the actual needs of the body. The woman who is in earnest to reduce her weight, then, should eat at each meal as little of the sweet or starchy articles of food and of the fats and oils as is compatible with health. Soup is best omitted altogether, not only because the cream soups and purées contain much fat-making material, but also because as little fluid as possible should be taken with meals. Among fish, salmon, bluefish and eels contain more fat than the other varieties of sea food. Fat meats and all forms of pork should be avoided. The potato is eaten so universally, appearing upon our tables at almost every meal, that its omission from the diet often seems a severe deprivation; however, it is one of the starchiest of foods, and should be cut entirely out of a menu planned for the reduction of weight. Most of the other vegetables grown below ground are also undesirable for the stout person; this class includes turnips, carrots, parsnips and beets,--not, however, onions or radishes. Peas and beans also contain a good deal of starch. It is almost impossible to eliminate bread-stuffs from the diet, yet much indulgence in the "bread and butter habit" is fatal to the woman who desires to grow thin. Bread has least flesh-forming power when thoroughly toasted; whole-wheat bread contains less starch than that made of the ordinary white flour, while gluten bread contains still less, and is the most desirable form for the stout person's use. Macaroni and spaghetti, rice, and the breakfast cereals are all included in the list of very starchy foods, and should, therefore, be avoided. Sweets of every sort--cakes, pies, puddings, ice cream, confectionery, chocolate, jam and preserves--are forbidden to one who is engaged in a flesh-reducing campaign. Very little butter should be eaten; no mayonnaise dressing or olive oil in any form, no cream, and not much milk,--none at all with meals. The list of articles allowed includes almost all kinds of fresh fish; lean meats and chicken; eggs; bread in small quantities, when stale or toasted; all fresh, green vegetables, such as spinach, lettuce, celery, asparagus and tomatoes; and nearly all kinds of fresh fruits, except bananas, which are largely made up of starch. Fruits stewed without sugar are also permitted. This is neither a starvation diet nor prison fare, but it does mean a monotonous bill of fare, and considerable will-power is required to follow such a regimen for a long period. Where a reducing diet is adopted without the advice of a physician, it is a safer plan to eat smaller portions of the flesh-forming foods than one is accustomed to, than to cut them out of the menu altogether. Drinking liquids with meals is conducive to increase in weight: not more than one small cup of tea or coffee, or one small glass of water, should be taken with a meal. Water should, however, be taken between meals; it is dangerous to cut the amount of water taken in twenty-four hours down to a small quantity, as a deficiency of water in the system is liable to prevent the kidneys from doing their proper work. Chocolate and cocoa are fattening. Beer and ale are well known to have flesh-forming properties, and all alcoholic beverages are better avoided. Napping after meals aids in putting on flesh, and should not be indulged in. Standing for twenty minutes or half an hour after meals is a help in preventing the deposition of fat about the hips and abdomen, the erect position promoting a more equal distribution of the products of nutrition. Any tendency to constipation is to be prevented. Laxative fruits and vegetables, such as oranges, apples, spinach and lettuce, will be helpful here, as will a glass of cold water taken on rising in the morning. The dietetic treatment of excessive thinness usually appears to one who is engaged in trying to reduce her weight as liberty to indulge in all the good things of this life. However, it is sometimes more difficult to build up a thin person than to reduce a stout one; restriction of diet and persistence in active exercise are practically certain to cause a loss of weight, while many factors, besides a too-slender diet, may be at the bottom of the thin woman's condition. Diseases of many different organs, a run-down nervous condition, too much hard work and too little rest, improper food, and disorders of the digestive tract are among the causes that may produce malnutrition, and the first measure adopted by the painfully thin person should be a frank talk with her family physician, as the diet required may not be that intended especially for increasing weight, but one that shall improve nutrition by remedying the defective working of some organ or system of the body. It is practically hopeless to attempt to build up a patient when the proper conditions cannot be secured; where there is no possibility of relief from a severe physical, mental or nervous strain, where a sufficient amount of sleep is impossible, or where there can be no escape from an unhygienic way of life, the wisest dietetic measures will accomplish as much as can be expected of them, if they merely enable the body to hold its own without further loss of weight and strength. Under favoring circumstances, however, the sugars, starches, fats and oils, which the stout person must avoid, are the food substances from which the thin person may expect the most beneficial results. Foods difficult of digestion should be excluded from the menu, as an attack of indigestion might mean a considerable set-back, but many of the most nourishing and fat-producing articles of food are readily digested and assimilated, though they should not, of course, be used to the exclusion of other kinds of food. A quart or two of milk a day, when taken in addition to the regular meals, will often work wonders; the cream should be stirred into it, not removed, and a raw egg may be beaten into an occasional glassful. Butter should be spread with a generous hand, salad dressings should contain as much oil as is practicable, and a tablespoonful of pure olive oil, taken after each meal, will be an effective aid, and also promote the free action of the bowels, that is so great a help in bringing about a condition of general good health. Properly-made bread, potatoes, starchy vegetables, like beans and peas and corn, macaroni and spaghetti, rice, and the whole array of well-made breakfast cereals, with a generous supply of sugar and cream, should be well represented in the thin person's diet. Cream sauces should be used frequently with meat, fish or vegetables, and cream soups and purées are to be preferred to bouillons and other thin soups. Ice cream, milk puddings, and other nourishing desserts may have a place in the menu, as may all sorts of sweet fruits, chocolate and cocoa, honey, maple sugar and syrup, and even simple and pure confectionery. There are few articles of food that are forbidden to the woman who desires to increase her weight, except those which put a strain upon the digestion. A luncheon in the middle of the morning and one in the afternoon, with a glass of hot milk before retiring, assist very greatly in the building-up process, while a nap, or at least a quiet rest, after the midday meal, enables the system to put to the best uses the fuel which has been supplied to it. Long hours of sleep, avoidance of hurry and tension, regular hours for meals and pleasant surroundings, and conversation at mealtimes, are all aids in overcoming the tendency to excessive thinness. With regard to both the stout and thin, it may be said that while the quantity and kind of food which is put into the body is unquestionably the greatest factor in maintaining a proper balance between its waste and repair, its income and outgo of energy, it is necessary to take a common-sense view of all the circumstances of each individual case: to make sure that there is no organ of the body whose functions are improperly performed; to avoid alike the temptation, on the one hand, to decreased activity, and, on the other, the tendency to over-exertion; to lead a well-balanced and hygienic life; and to practise, not only with regard to the pleasures of the table, but in everything that pertains to both physical and mental health, that wise choice and accustomed self control that are the mark of the highest type of humanity. * * * * * When thou dost tell another's jest, therein Omit the oaths, which true wit cannot need: Pick out of tales the mirth, but not the sin. He pares his apple that will cleanly feed. --_George Herbert._ HOME IDEAS AND ECONOMIES Contributions to this department will be gladly received. Accepted items will be paid for at reasonable rates. A Handy Laundry Bag A convenient laundry bag for use in each sleeping apartment is easily made of a square piece of stout material of desired size, hemmed round the edge, and having a two-inch strap of the material securely sewed to each corner. When the four straps are slipped over a closet hook, a handy bag is formed, easily accessible at four different places, and easily emptied of every article by simply dropping one of the corners. Such bags are pretty, made in colors to correspond with the room in which they are used. When desiring to carry the soiled clothes to the laundry in the receptacle in which they are gathered, these square bags will be found much easier to handle than the long ones. Assisting Memory One of the great helps in my housekeeping is a small blackboard on my kitchen wall. Any special plan, anything about the house that I discover requires attention, or any list of materials desired, are noted on this board. I then dismiss the matter from my mind. Each morning I look it over carefully, erasing anything that has been disposed of or passed by, place on it any new record necessary, and note the special duties of the day or week. In this way I am reminded of the many duties of my housekeeping without being unduly burdened with them. If more conscientious housewives would try this plan, I think there would be fewer nervous women. It is the carrying of the multitudinous duties of housekeeping in the memory long before they are actually performed that proves so burdensome. An Improvised Coat Closet In a house having no hall or place to hang the coats and hats in common use, I recently saw a very clever improvised closet. The frame was made of wood and stained oak; it was about five feet high, and fitted into a corner back of the dining-room door, being about four feet across the front and three feet deep. Over this frame green burlap was tacked smoothly with fancy brass-headed nails. The entire front opened out like a door. The top was covered to make it dust-proof, and a piece of stout canvas formed the floor. Around the inside stout cleats were attached to the framework, into which hooks were placed for the clothing. In another house similarly restricted one corner of the dining-room was made equally convenient, but not so well protected from the dust, by placing on the wall several racks for the clothing. To hide this a large screen was placed about it, also having hooks upon the back. Neither arrangement in any way disfigured the room, and a great deal of running up and down stairs was saved. A. M. A. Pickles Without Heat Pack sound, clean vegetables in a stone jar, a layer of vegetables and salt; do not be sparing with the salt. Let these remain at least two days. Rinse _well_ in cold water. Press out carefully all the water. Cover with vinegar, let stand over night, then press this vinegar out. Put the vegetables in a jar and pour over it the following: Two quarts good cider vinegar, three pounds brown sugar (light), a good handful, each, of whole cloves and cinnamon bark, one-half pound celery seed, one-half ounce tumeric, one-eighth pound ground mustard, one-half pound white mustard seed. Dissolve sugar, mustard and tumeric well, pour over vegetables, let stand over a week before beginning to eat. Cabbage, onions and cucumbers are the vegetables used. Be sure the cabbage is white and firm; split the cucumbers and slice the onions. This is not heated or cooked. Be sure the seasoned vinegar covers the vegetables. S. J. E. * * * * * I find lard pails very convenient receptacles for dry supplies like rice, beans, etc. I choose those whose covers come off easily, and paste paper, on which the name of the contents is written, on each one. The pails are so much easier to handle than the glass jars, and they are also less apt to become broken. Many people do not seem to know of the effectiveness of banana skins in cleaning tan leather suit cases and similar articles. Rub the leather well with the inside of the skin, then wipe off any excess of moisture with a dry cloth, finishing with a good polishing with the same. I had read of kerosene being a splendid remedy for burns, but had never tried it. A short time ago, however, I found the soda can empty when most needed, and had to resort to the kerosene. On immersing my finger in the liquid, so that the burned portion was submerged, I found the pain quickly disappeared. Not a sign of a blister arose, and the burn healed much more quickly than those treated in the other way had done. Now we use kerosene exclusively for this purpose. C. F. S. * * * * * In these days of high prices, when home-makers are striving to feed their families well, at as low cost as possible, it is often the saving of little things that keeps down the provision bill. One should know how to combine left overs so they may realize the best results both in the amount of money saved and the amount of nourishment given. Save the liquor in which a ham has been cooked. The fat from the top may be used for sautéing potatoes or pressed sliced cereals, or with scrambled eggs, and lends a delicious flavor when so used. The cooled liquor forms a "jelly" rich in extractives. There are frequently pieces of bread left that are in good condition. These pieces of bread, also left-over buttered toast, may be used to thicken pea soup; and the bone from the ham, cracked so that the marrow may slip out, and also the "jelly" from the cold ham liquor may be used to flavor the soup. If the ham is very salt, care must be taken not to add too much "jelly." It is best to add the "jelly" about one-half an hour before the soup is done. * * * * * Some exquisite centerpieces from outdoor flowers are made of marsh marigolds and ferns, or buttercups and ferns, in cut glass or carved Parian marble; of violets, purple and white, in a silver bowl, and apple blossoms, in polished copper. Following is a dessert recipe much enjoyed in my own family: Rhubarb Sponge Clean and cut in one-half inch pieces one pound of rose rhubarb. Do not remove the skin. Stew until quite tender in one-fourth a cup of boiling water, just enough to start the steam. Soften one ounce of granulated gelatine in one-third a cup of cold water. Strain the cooked rhubarb, pressing out all the juice, and add enough boiling water, if necessary, to make three cups. Mix one and three-fourths cups of sugar and one-half a teaspoonful of ground ginger. Stir in the rhubarb juice, and add to the gelatine, stirring until the gelatine and sugar are dissolved. Add the grated rind and strained juice of one lemon and set the mixture to chill. When it begins to thicken, add the stiff-beaten whites of three eggs and beat till stiff. Mold. Serve with beaten and sweetened cream. Cut nuts or macaroon crumbs may be passed with this dessert. M. T. R. * * * * * Tempting a Delicate Child to Eat Every mother knows how hard it is to get children to eat at times, especially when they first begin to take solid foods, or when they are convalescent, while there are some children who seem to have a natural and persistent aversion toward whatever is nourishing and particularly good for them. Mothers are sometimes at their wits' end to know what to prepare, and almost sick with discouragement when wholesome, necessary foods are persistently refused. Sometimes a little ingenuity and an appeal to the child's imagination or eye will induce him to eat a good-sized meal when, at first, he rejected everything. There are many simple ways of doing this, and the mother will find any number of her own by experimenting. It is an old custom to cut a slice of bread into slips, naming them for members of the family or friends, but it is a procedure which seems to fascinate most little ones and make the bread more palatable. They get so interested in the various characters, represented by the slips of bread, that it disappears before they realize it. Slices of bread and butter can be cut into various shapes, such as diamonds, squares, circles, etc., also to represent animals, dogs, cats and horses. The shapes may be crude and mystifying to behold, but children are not critical, and generally accept these representations with approval and credulity. Often quite a good-sized meal can be coaxed down by putting it into the doll's dishes, filling the tiny cups with milk and putting little squares of bread on the small plates. One child was known to eat a good-sized meal in this way when he absolutely refused the food in other form. Another way is to provide a pretty china plate with a picture on it, and tell the child to eat the contents so that he will see the picture. Sometimes an interesting story can be told--with the proviso that the child "eat his dinner" or the mother will not tell the story. He will get interested in the story and forget how much he is eating until it is all gone. One little boy persistently refused rice, which the physician had ordered for him and his mother had tried in every way to make him eat. One day she conceived the idea of forming the rice into a small mound like an Eskimo hut, smoothing it around to make it an exact reproduction. On the top she placed a small square of butter, which she called the chimney. It happened that the little boy had been much interested in pictures of Eskimo children and their homes, and it appealed to his imagination at once. The mother then buttered a slice of bread and cut it into strips--some large and some small--which she called the family who lived in the hut--father, mother, girls, boys and baby. For this she had the satisfaction of seeing the little fellow eat two good slices of bread and the whole saucer of rice--a thing he had never done before--and with enjoyment. These are but a few devices. Any mother can supplement them with successful ones of her own, and she will find that by the use of a little imagination and ingenuity a child can be tempted to eat almost any kind of desirable and necessary food, and enjoy it. A. G. M. * * * * * In order to preserve weathered oak furniture and keep it fresh, rub it with floor wax, Johnston's or some other wax for hard floors. Do this once or twice a year. * * * * * Instead of throwing away the flour left after rolling meat for frying, save it and use again for similar purpose. * * * * * Cut a groove around the handle of the broom about three inches from the end. Make a cap with a draw string of some dark soft material and fasten this over the end of the broom. Then when the end of the broom rests against the wall there will be no marred places on the walls. This idea is especially good where one has white walls. J. R. W. * * * * * There is nothing that equals the boiled icing, and by boiling the sugar and water without stirring until it spins threads when run off a spoon or fork, then turning this syrup on the whites of the eggs, which have been whipped dry, then beaten until cold, one will have a delicious covering. Menu for Church Supper Given in May, but suitable for other months--about 200 covers. Cold Tongue Creamed Potatoes Lobster Salad Rolls Jelly Coffee Pineapple Ice Cake Cost of materials: 8 cans tongue @ $0.62½ $5.00 100 lbs. lobster @ .16 16.00 1½ doz. lettuce @ .90 1.35 Salad Dressing: 2 cans oil $1.80 2 qts. milk .16 Box mustard .30 1 qt. vinegar .07 2 doz. eggs .64 2.97 ½ bushel potatoes 400 rolls 3.34 4 lbs. coffee 1.52 2 qts. cream 1.20 1 can milk .60 6 eggs .16 3.48 20 glasses jelly donated. Pineapple Ice, 4½ gal.: 12 cans pineapple 2.40 6 lemons .10 Sugar .65 ? Freezing 2.50 Dipping 1.00 6.65 Served only 150 1 box domino sugar $0.48 1 can milk for potatoes .60 2 lbs. flour .10 1 lb. crackers (scant) .13 Parsley .10 5 lbs. print butter 2.10 1½ lbs. tub butter .52 Ice .15 Help 7.00 22 loaves cake (2 left), donated. Laundry 3.00 Express .25 Soap, etc. .20 ---- 14.63 ------ $53.42 Recipe for Pineapple Ice 12 cans of grated pineapple 6 quarts of water 6 quarts of sugar 6 lemons Boil the water and sugar fifteen minutes, add the pineapple, let boil five minutes; when cold strain, add lemon juice and freeze as usual. B. N. W. Goin' to School By Laura R. Talbot At a progressive porch party the young women sharpened their wits with the following: I ALPHABET "If an alphabetical servility must still be urged." --_Milton._ 1. A river in Scotland. 2. A printer's measure. 3. Owned by the Chinaman. _Answers_ 1. D (Dee). 2. M (em). 3. Q (queue). II GEOGRAPHY "In despite o' geography." --_Butler._ FIND THE ISLANDS 1. Eat a ---- when you are hungry. 2. The cat caught my ----. 3. Jack had a ---- pony given him. _Answers_ 1. Sandwich. 2. Canary. 3. Shetland. III GRAMMAR "Who climbs the grammar tree distinctly knows Where noun and verb and participle grows." --_Dryden._ 1. What the convicted prisoner receives. 2. What does the cat have? 3. Four-sevenths of a flower is what part of speech? _Answers_ 1. Sentence. 2. Clause (claws). 3. Verb-ena. IV PHYSIOLOGY "For of the soule the bodie forme doth take; For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make." --_Spenser._ 1. What humorist is a vital organ? 2. What is sometimes found in a closet? 3. What did Adam lose? _Answers_ 1. Heart (Harte). 2. Skeleton. 3. Rib. The "scholars" were now dismissed for fifteen minutes' recess, while EDUCATOR CRACKERS were served. An old-fashioned hand bell called them to order. V ARITHMETIC "This endless addition of numbers." --_Locke._ 1. Think of a number, Double it, Add ten, Divide by two, Add five, Multiply by four, Subtract forty, Divide by number first thought of, Add nineteen, And what do you have? 2. Not round and part of a plant. 3. Subtract nine from six. _Answers_ 1. Twenty-three. 2. Square root. 3. S SIX IX ---- S VI HISTORY "For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history." --_Shakespeare._ 1. What fruit do we always find in history? 2. What fowls are associated with the Pilgrim Fathers? 3. What happened to America in 1492? _Answers_ 1. Dates. 2. Plymouth Rocks. 3. Discovered. VII CURRENT EVENTS "For 'tis a chronicle of day by day." --_Shakespeare._ 1. What large gun is often heard in Washington? 2. What kitchen divinity has been declared a fraud? 3. What European ruler was interested in "The Congo"? _Answers_ 1. Cannon (Joseph G.). 2. Cook (Dr. Frederick.) 3. King Leopold. Refreshments were next served in school lunch boxes. Candy, in boxes representing books, was given as prizes. QUERIES AND ANSWERS This department is for the benefit and free use of our subscribers. Questions relating to recipes, and those pertaining to culinary science and domestic economics in general, will be cheerfully answered by the editor. Communications for this department must reach us before the first of the month preceding that in which the answers are expected to appear. In letters requesting answers by mail, please enclose addressed and stamped envelope. For menus remit $1.00. Address queries to Janet M. Hill, editor BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE, 372 Boylston Street, Boston, Mass. In answer to inquiry 1590 I send my recipe which I have used for years. Blitz Kuchen 7 round tablespoonfuls butter 7 heaping teaspoonfuls sugar A heaping pint of flour Pinch of baking powder Pinch of salt 4 eggs Grated rind of 1 lemon ¼ pound chopped almonds 2 tablespoonfuls sugar Ground cinnamon to taste Butter and sugar are stirred to a cream. Add eggs without beating same, lemon and salt; stir well, then add flour mixed with baking powder; mix well and spread very thin on buttered tins. Sprinkle before baking with the almonds and two tablespoonfuls sugar mixed with the cinnamon. Bake in moderately hot oven to a medium brown. Cut in diamond shapes immediately on taking from the oven and while on tins. Remove quickly from tins. MRS. WM. WINTER * * * * * Your correspondent, who presents Query No. 1590, in the April magazine, has the German incorrect in her question. The recipe called for is undoubtedly Blitz Kuchen or Quick Coffee Cake. I enclose my recipe, which makes a delicious cake. Blitz Kuchen ½ a cup of butter 1 cup of sugar 2 teaspoonfuls of baking-powder 1½ cups of flour ½ a teaspoonful of salt 1 cup of milk 2 eggs 4 tablespoonfuls of crushed nuts Sift sugar, baking powder, flour and salt into bowl. Add butter, and work into dry ingredients as in making pie crust. Beat eggs and add with milk. Add enough more flour to make a rather stiff batter. Spread about one-half inch deep in buttered pans. Sprinkle top with granulated sugar and nuts. Bake about one-half hour in moderate oven. ANNE C. RANKIN, _Supt. Dom. Science Wausau Pub. Schools_. * * * * * QUERY 1623.--"Recipe for a very rich Chocolate Ice Cream. A cream eaten lately, which we wish to duplicate, was almost as dark in color and as rich as a chocolate sauce or chocolate frosting." Rich, Dark-Colored Chocolate Ice Cream Melt six ounces of chocolate over hot water (in a double boiler), add one cup of sugar and half a cup of boiling water and stir and cook directly over the fire until smooth and boiling. Scald three cups of milk; stir into the milk two tablespoonfuls of flour smoothed with milk to pour; stir until the milk thickens, then add the chocolate mixture; cover and let cook fifteen minutes. Beat the yolks of three or four eggs; add half a teaspoonful of salt and one-fourth a cup of sugar; beat again and stir into the hot mixture; stir until the egg is cooked a little; add one cup of rich cream and strain into the can of the freezer. When cold add one tablespoonful and a half of vanilla extract and freeze as usual. * * * * * QUERY 1624.--"Please publish a Time Table for cooking different vegetables, and for cooking meats, both well and rare done. Under meats, include fowl, game and fish, well done." Time Table for Cooking Vegetables Asparagus 20 to 25 minutes Beans, String or Shell 1 to 3 hours Beets, new 1 to 2 hours Beets, old 4 to 6 hours Beet Greens 1 hour or longer Brussels Sprouts 15 to 20 minutes Cabbage 30 to 80 minutes Carrots 1 hour or longer Cauliflower 20 to 30 minutes Celery 2 hours or longer Corn 5 to 15 minutes (actual boiling) Macaroni 20 to 60 minutes Onions 45 minutes to 2 hours Oyster Plant 45 to 60 minutes Parsnips 30 to 45 minutes Peas about 20 minutes Potatoes, white 20 to 30 minutes Potatoes, sweet 15 to 25 minutes Rice 20 to 30 minutes Squash 20 to 30 minutes Spinach 15 to 20 minutes Tomatoes, stewed 15 to 20 minutes Turnips 30 to 45 minutes Coffee 3 to 5 minutes Time Table for Baking Meat and Fish Beef, ribs or loin, rare, per pound 8 to 10 minutes Beef, ribs or loin, well done, per pound 12 to 16 minutes Beef, ribs, rolled, rare 12 to 15 minutes Beef, ribs, rolled, well done 15 to 18 minutes Beef, fillet, rare 20 to 30 minutes (hot oven) Beef, fillet, well done 1 hour Mutton, leg, rare, per pound 10 minutes Mutton, leg, well done, per pound 14 minutes Mutton, forequarter, stuffed, per pound 15 to 25 minutes Lamb, well done, per pound 15 to 20 minutes Veal, well done, per pound 18 to 22 minutes Pork, well done, per pound 20 minutes Venison, rare, per pound 10 minutes Chicken, per pound 15 to 20 minutes Turkey, 8 to 10 pounds 3 hours Goose, 8 to 10 pounds 2 hours or more Duck, domestic 1 hour or more Duck, wild 15 to 30 minutes (very hot oven) Grouse about 30 minutes Small Birds 15 to 20 minutes Pigeons, potted or en casserole 3 to 6 hours Ham 4 to 6 hours Fish, whole 45 minutes or longer Small Fish and Fillets about 20 minutes Baked Beans with Pork 6 to 8 hours Time Table for Broiling Meat and Fish Steak, 1 inch thick 4 to 10 minutes Steak, 1½ inches thick 8 to 15 minutes Lamb or Mutton Chops 6 to 10 minutes Spring Chicken 20 to 30 minutes Squabs 10 to 12 minutes Shad, Bluefish, etc. 15 to 30 minutes Slices of Fish 12 to 15 minutes Small Fish 5 to 12 minutes Boiling Meat and Fish Fresh Beef 4 to 6 hours Corned Beef, rib or flank 4 to 7 hours Corned Beef, fancy brisket 5 to 8 hours Corned Tongue 3 to 4 hours Leg or Shoulder of Mutton 3½ to 5 hours Leg or Shoulder of Lamb 2 to 3 hours Turkey, per pound 15 to 18 minutes Fowl, 4 to 5 pounds 2 to 4 hours Chicken, 3 pounds 1 to 1½ hours Ham 4 to 6 hours Lobster 25 to 30 minutes Codfish and Haddock, per pound 6 minutes Halibut, whole or thick piece, per pound 15 minutes Salmon, whole or thick piece 10 to 15 minutes Clams and Oysters 3 to 5 minutes * * * * * QUERY 1625.--"Recipe for Tomato Aspic for salads and a well-seasoned Cream of Corn Soup." Tomato (Aspic?) Jelly Let two cups of canned tomato, a sprig of summer savory, sprig of parsley, a slice of onion, half a stalk of celery, and a piece of green or red pepper pod simmer together fifteen or twenty minutes, then strain the whole through a fine sieve; add one-fourth a two-ounce package of gelatine, softened in one-fourth a cup of cold water, and salt as needed, and turn into molds to harden. Tomato Jelly, Macedoine Style, for Salad 1-1/2 cups of canned tomato 1 slice of onion 1/8 a clove of garlic 1/4 a pepper pod 1/2 a teaspoonful of salt 1/4 a "soup bag" 1/3 a package of gelatine 1/3 a cup of cold water 1/2 a cup of cooked string beans 3 olives 1 teaspoonful of capers 1 truffle Cooked yolks of 2 eggs Let the first six ingredients simmer, together, about fifteen minutes, then add the gelatine that has been softened in the cold water; stir over ice water until the mixture begins to thicken, then add the beans and olives, cut in fine bits, the capers, the truffle or its equivalent in trimmings, chopped fine, the yolks sifted, or the equivalent of the yolks in chopped chicken tongue or ham. Mix thoroughly and turn into molds. Serve with lettuce and mayonnaise dressing. Tomato Aspic To a pint of rich and highly-flavored beef, chicken or veal broth add a cup of cooked tomatoes, with salt and pepper as needed, also one-third a package of gelatine softened in one-third a cup of cold water and the crushed shells and slightly beaten whites of two eggs; stir constantly over the fire till boiling; let boil three minutes; then draw to a cooler place to settle; skim and strain through a napkin wrung out of boiling water; turn into molds and let chill. Good Flavored Cream of Corn Soup A good flavored corn soup may be made of two parts milk flavored with a little onion and parsley, thickened with flour and one part corn purée; but a richer flavored soup results when chicken or veal broth is combined with the milk and a little cream, half to a whole cup to two quarts of soup is used. Recipe for Cream of Corn Soup Score the kernels in each row with a sharp knife and with the back of the knife press out all of the pulp. Melt three (level) tablespoonfuls of butter, in it cook two slices of onion and two branches of parsley until the onion is softened and yellowed; add three tablespoonfuls of flour, a dash of black pepper and half a teaspoonful of salt; stir and cook until frothy, then add three cups of milk and stir until boiling; add the corn pulp and let boil five minutes. Add more seasoning if needed. Vary by the use of broth or cream. * * * * * QUERY 1626.--"Recipe for a very appetizing dish consisting of a poached egg set above a round of toast and another of ham with a yellow sauce over the whole. Also a recipe for Sponge Cake for Jelly Roll. One given in the magazine was a failure." Eggs Benedict Split and toast the required number of English muffins. Have ready poached eggs and some very thin rounds of broiled ham, one of each for each half muffin. Dip the edges of the toasted muffins in boiling, salted water, and spread lightly with butter; set a slice of hot ham above the toast and the poached egg above the ham and pour Hollandaise sauce over the whole. Hollandaise Sauce For six eggs, beat half a cup of butter to a cream, then beat in, one at a time, the yolks of four eggs, with a dash of salt and of pepper; add half a cup of boiling water and two tablespoonfuls of lemon juice and cook over hot water, stirring constantly until the mixture thickens. Sponge Cake for Jelly Roll We should be glad to know which recipe for sponge cake published in this magazine did not turn out successfully. We have given recipes for many grades of sponge cake, but all have been used by us repeatedly with good results. Any recipe for good sponge cake may be used for a jelly roll, but some formulas will give a dry and others a moist cake. The first of the following recipes is for a small, inexpensive cake. Recipes for Sponge Cake for Jelly Roll I 2 eggs 1 cup of sugar 1 cup of flour 1/4 a teaspoonful of salt 2½ level teaspoonfuls of baking powder 1 teaspoonful of vanilla extract 1/3 a cup of hot milk Beat the eggs without separating the whites and yolks; beat in the sugar, fold in the flour, salt and baking powder, sifted together, then beat in the milk. Bake in a shallow pan. Turn upon a cloth, trim off the edges, spread with jelly and roll. The cake must be rolled while hot. II 5 eggs 1 cup of sugar 1 cup of flour Grated rind of 1 lemon 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon juice _or_ 1 rounding teaspoonful of baking powder Beat the whites and yolks separately, and gradually beat the sugar into the yolks; add the lemon juice and rind and fold in the whites and flour. By this recipe the cake is good only when the ingredients are put together properly. Beating and folding are the motions needed. One not understanding how to mix a _true_ sponge cake should omit the lemon juice and use the baking powder. The recipe for Swedish sponge cake, frequently given in these pages, makes a good cake for a jelly roll. * * * * * QUERY 1627.--"Recipe for Currants, Bar-le-duc." Bar-le-Duc Currants The preserve known by the above caption can be made at home, but, as the process of removing the seeds from the currants is tedious, most people prefer buying to making this preserve. We have had good success with the following recipe: Take selected currants of large size, one by one, and with tiny embroidery scissors carefully cut the skin on one side, making a slit one-fourth an inch or less in length. Through this with a sharp needle remove the seeds, one at a time, to preserve the shape of the currant. Take the weight of the currants in strained honey, and when hot add the currants. Let simmer two or three minutes, then seal as jelly. If the juice of the currants liquefy the honey too much, carefully skim out the currants and reduce the syrup at a gentle simmer to the desired consistency, then replace the currants and store as above. The above recipe gives a confection equal to that put up in France. The following recipe, which entails less work, gives a nice preserve. Currants, Bar-le-Duc Get the largest size currants, red or white, and stem them without breaking. To each pound allow three pounds of sugar. Take some ordinary currants and bruise them while warm until you have a pint of juice. Put half a cup of this into a porcelain kettle and add three pounds of sugar. Bring slowly to a boil and skim very carefully. After boiling five minutes drop in very carefully one pound of the large currants and let simmer four minutes. Take them out without breaking them, and boil the syrup down five minutes, or longer if not very thick; as the currants are sometimes less juicy than at others, a few minutes more will be needed at one time than another. When thick, skim well and strain through a hot cloth over the fruit. Put into little jelly glasses and when cold cover as in jelly making. [Illustrated Advertisement] Fresh from the Ocean To You _The Finest Codfish You Ever Tasted_ Burnham & Morrill Fish Flakes will give a new meaning to "Codfish" in your home. This choice New England delicacy is entirely different from the dried, over-salted, "soak-over-night" kind and far superior to any Codfish you can buy even at the fish market. =BURNHAM & MORRILL FISH FLAKES= =10c and 15c Sizes= makes it possible for you to enjoy really fresh Codfish wherever you may live. Our exclusive method of cooking, mildly salting and packing the fish the same day it is caught--absolutely without preservative of any sort--retains all the fine delicate flavor. The sanitary container, itself, bespeaks the high quality of the contents. The fish is wrapped in pure parchment and hermetically sealed, without solder or acid--it never comes in contact with the metal. Every housewife will be delighted to find how delicious =Codfish Balls, Creamed Fish, Fish Hash, Fish Chowder, etc.= can be made with Burnham & Morrill Fish Flakes. Thousands of Grocers are selling Burnham & Morrill Fish Flakes today--if yours hasn't it in stock, he will be glad to get it for you. If you will just try Burnham & Morrill Fish Flakes once you will certainly agree with everyone that this is a simply perfect fish product. If your Grocer chances not to be supplied, in order that you may immediately try Burnham & Morrill Fish Flakes yourself, we will gladly mail you a regular 10c size on receipt of 10c from you. It costs us 18c to do this--postage alone being 11c. This shows our faith in our product. =GOOD EATING= was written especially for us by Mrs. Janet Mackenzie Hill, the noted domestic scientist. It contains many new and original recipes and table hints, and is mailed =Free upon request.= =BURNHAM & MORRILL COMPANY, Portland, Maine, U.S.A.= =Packers of the justly celebrated Paris Sugar Corn= * * * * * QUERY 1628.--"Recipe for Preserving and Crystallizing Ginger Root." Preserving Ginger Root Purchase the "stem" ginger. Take the weight of the ginger in sugar. Cover the ginger with boiling water and let cook rapidly till very tender. Dissolve the sugar in some of the water in which the ginger was cooked. Use about one-fourth as much water as sugar. Let cook to a thin syrup; skim, then put in the ginger and let simmer very slowly till the syrup is nearly absorbed, then cook more quickly, stirring meanwhile to cause the sugar to grain until the ginger is well glazed. Or, remove the ginger from the syrup, when it has absorbed a sufficient quantity, drain, cut in strips and roll in granulated sugar. A third method gives good results, but for lack of proper appliances is not used by amateurs. * * * * * QUERY 1629.--"Recipe for Mexican Tamale. Also give the number of this magazine in which a recipe for Cheese Custard was given." Mexican Tamales Have a chicken cooked tender in boiling water to cover; remove the meat and chop it fine; return the bones to the broth. From fresh corn husks select a wide leaf of husk for each tamale, or use dry husks steamed until pliable. Remove and discard the seeds from a dozen red chili peppers and chop the pods very fine; peel six large tomatoes and squeeze the seeds from them. Mix the tomato and pepper and let simmer twenty minutes, or until well reduced. Stir enough of the hot chicken liquor into three cups of corn meal to thoroughly moisten it, then let it stand half an hour. When everything is ready, mix the tomato and pepper with the chicken, adding a teaspoonful or more of salt as is needed to season. Salt should also be added to the corn meal, if the broth in which it was mixed had not been seasoned. Put a layer of corn meal into the corn husk and on this put two tablespoonfuls of the chicken and tomato mixture. Let the chicken come nearly to the ends of the corn meal, and the corn meal well up to the ends of the husk. Keeping the husk between the fingers and the meal, fold the meal over the chicken, from each side, to enclose the chicken completely; roll the husks over the whole, turn up the ends and tie them securely, using narrow strips torn from the husks for the purpose. Put the tamales on the top of the bones in the chicken broth, taking care that the bones keep them well out of the broth. Cover closely and let simmer one hour. Serve hot. Cheese Custard The recipe for Cheese Custard was given on page 286, and the illustration of the same, on page 285 of the January, 1910, issue of the magazine. * * * * * QUERY 1630.--"Recipes for a 'Saltine' or Salted Cracker, a Soda Cracker and Rum Omelette." Recipes for Crackers We are unable to supply proper recipes for making crackers. Rum Omelet 3 eggs 1½ tablespoonfuls of sugar ¼ a teaspoonful of salt 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon juice or water 2 tablespoonfuls of butter ¼ a cup of rum Beat the eggs without separating till a full spoonful can be taken up; add sugar, salt and liquid and mix thoroughly. Melt the butter in the hot omelet pan, turn in the egg mixture, shake the pan till the omelet is cooked, roll and turn upon a hot platter; pour over the rum, light it and send to the table, at once, while it is burning. Roll the omelet when it is a little underdone. [Illustrated Advertisement] =SOUPS= STEWS and HASHES are rendered very much more tasty and appetizing by using =LEA & PERRINS= SAUCE= THE ORIGINAL WORCESTERSHIRE A superior seasoning for all kinds of Fish, Steaks, Roasts, Game, Gravies, Salads, etc. It gives appetizing relish to an otherwise insipid dish. =Beware of Imitations.= JOHN DUNCAN'S SONS, Agts., New York * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] =Rae's Lucca Oil= "THE PERFECTION OF OLIVE OIL" =THE VERY FINEST QUALITY OF PURE OLIVE OIL= SOLD IN BOTTLES AND TINS OF VARIOUS SIZES =S. RAE & CO.= LEGHORN, TUSCANY, ITALY * * * * * QUERY 1631.--"Recipes for Lady Baltimore Cake, Peanut Cookies and Maple-Walnut Sundae." Lady Baltimore Cake 1 cup of butter 2 cups of sugar 3½ cups of flour 2 (level) teaspoonfuls of baking powder 1 cup of milk 1 teaspoonful of rose water Whites of 6 eggs Filling and Frosting 3 cups of sugar 1 cup of water 3 whites of eggs 1 cup of chopped raisins 1 cup of chopped nut meats 5 figs Cook the sugar and water to 242° Fahr. Finish as any boiled frosting, adding the fruit and nuts at the last. Peanut Cookies ¼ a cup of butter (scant) ½ a cup of sugar 2 tablespoonfuls of milk 1 egg 1 cup of flour ¼ a teaspoonful of salt 2 teaspoonfuls of baking powder ¾ a cup of peanuts Mix in the usual manner; add the egg, beaten without separating the white from the yolk. Reserve a few whole halves of nuts to garnish the tops of the cookies, and add the rest, pounded fine, at the last. Drop in a buttered tin, a teaspoonful in a place, and some distance apart. The recipe makes two dozen cookies. Maple-Walnut Sundae Prepare vanilla or lemon ice cream. Turn one or two tablespoonfuls of maple syrup into a glass cup; in this dispose a ball or cone of the ice cream, pour on one or two tablespoonfuls of maple syrup and sprinkle with nut meats, chopped rather coarse. Pecans or English walnuts are generally used. Butternuts are also good for this purpose. * * * * * QUERY 1632.--"Recipe for the rice cooked with tomatoes, cheese, peppers and bacon given in the 'Menus for a Week in May,' in this magazine." Rice with Bacon and Tomatoes Parboil three-fourths a cup of rice in cold water, drain on a sieve, rinse with cold water and drain again. Cut three or four thin slices of bacon into half-inch pieces and cook until crisp and light colored. Add the blanched rice to the bits of bacon. In the fat cook half a green or red pepper, cut in shreds, until softened and yellowed, then add the pepper and fat to the rice with three cups of boiling water or stock and three-fourths a teaspoonful of salt, and let cook until the rice is tender and the liquid is absorbed. Add a cup of well-reduced tomato purée and half a cup or more of grated cheese. Mix thoroughly and let stand over boiling water to become very hot. * * * * * QUERY 1633.--"Recipe for Peach Cordial, and Angel Cake containing cornstarch." Peach Cordial Mash ripe or nearly ripe peaches to a pulp. To eight pounds of pulp allow one quart of water. Let the whole be heated to the boiling point, then press out the juice. To each gallon of juice add two pounds of loaf sugar. Let stand until it has fermented and when clear bottle and seal. Angel Cake with Cornstarch 1 cup of whites of eggs 1 cup of sugar ¾ a cup of flour ¼ a cup of cornstarch ½ a teaspoonful of cream of tartar 1 teaspoonful of vanilla extract Beat the white of eggs till foamy; add the cream of tartar and beat until dry; beat in the sugar gradually; add the extract, then fold in the flour and cornstarch, sifted together. Bake in an unbuttered tube pan. It will take from thirty to fifty minutes according to the size of the pan. [Illustration: LUNCHEON TONGUE] Squire's Luncheon Tongue With a thin, sharp knife cut Squire's Luncheon Tongue in thin slices. Serve with hot spinach, potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, Swiss chard, green corn, string or shell beans. To the cooked vegetables add butter and a palatable seasoning of salt and pepper. For a more hearty dish serve the vegetables with a cream sauce; if a still more elaborate dish appeals to you, cover the creamed vegetable with cracker crumbs mixed with melted butter and let stand in the oven until the crumbs are nicely browned. When a cold dish is desirable, serve the tongue with any of the above vegetables dressed as a salad. Any variety of salad dressing may be used, but with spinach, sauce tartare is particularly good. Press the spinach while hot into molds; when cold and firm unmold each shape on a slice of tongue and dispose the sauce above or around the spinach. To make sauce tartare, add to a cup of mayonnaise dressing two tablespoonfuls, each, of fine chopped capers, olives, parsley and cucumber pickles. French dressing--oil, vinegar, salt and pepper--suffice for lettuce and tomatoes served with the tongue, though mayonnaise or a boiled dressing made without oil are to be commended with tomatoes, thus served. A slice or two of the tongue chopped fine is a good ingredient with onion, bread crumbs and such seasonings as are available for stuffed tomatoes. [Advertisement] SQUIRE'S LUNCHEON TONGUE ¶ This is a ready-to-serve cooked meat, its uses being the same as our Boiled Ham, for sandwiches and as a cold meat, and is also fine for salads, or in any way in which a tongue is used. ¶ The tongues are selected for size and quality, thoroughly cooked until tender, after which all gristle and the little bone at the root is removed. ¶ They are packed in tins holding twelve tongues and weighing about six pounds. ¶ After being placed in the tins, the tongues are covered with a jelly, which, when it congeals, serves to bind the meat into one piece. Put up in this form it is easy to slice thin, or, the tongues can be served whole if desired. ¶ The pans are carefully wrapped in parchment paper. ¶ The appearance is inviting, the tongues are whole and the jelly keeps them fresh and retains their delicious flavor, possible in no other way. ¶ These goods being sold within a short time after being cooked and packed, they have a better flavor than canned tongue. ¶ The quality, purity and care in preparing Luncheon Tongue is the same as that of all other Squire products. ¶ It is convenient, as any quantity, from one slice to a whole pan, can be purchased. JOHN P. SQUIRE & CO., BOSTON, MASS. _Visitors are always welcome at our plant and restaurant in Cambridge_ * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] HEINZ Cider Apples Only selected kinds are used for Heinz Vinegar. The quality of cider vinegar begins with the apples. The Greenings, Baldwins, Spies and Kings of Western New York and Michigan give the greatest amount of rich juice, best for vinegar, and these are the principal varieties of apples used in making =HEINZ Pure Apple Cider Vinegar=. Only the pure apple juice of _first pressing_ is used in Heinz Cider Vinegar, whereas the first pressing of apples is more often sold for sweet cider and only the second pressing, mixed with water, used for cider vinegar. Age improves all vinegars, and it is frequently more than two years from the time the apple juice is pressed until it reaches your table as Heinz Cider Vinegar. All of which contributes to its healthfulness, mellowness and aroma. The =57 Varieties= also include the following: _=Heinz Malt Vinegar=_ made from sound barley malt and aged until rich and mellow. _=Heinz White Pickling and Table Vinegar=_ a distilled vinegar of great strength. All sold by grocers in sealed bottles and half-gallon jugs; also by measure from barrels--but, when buying in this way, be sure you get the Heinz brand. =H. J. HEINZ COMPANY.= _=Distributing Branches and Agencies throughout the World.=_ _Member American Association for Promotion of Purity in Food Products._ * * * * * The Father A Story by Björnson [This dramatic little tale by the late Björnstjerne Björnson is so simply told that it seems almost destitute of art, which is to say its art is of the highest kind, for the art of simplicity, as every writer knows, is the hardest to achieve. It was translated into English a few weeks ago, for the first time, for the Boston _Transcript_, from which we reprint it.] The man about whom this story is told was the mightiest in his parish. His name was Thord Overaas. He stood one day in the pastor's study, tall and serious. "I have been given a son," he said, "and wish to have him christened." "What shall he be called?" "Finn, after my father." "And the sponsors?" They were named, and were the best men and women in the community of the father's family. "Is there anything further?" asked the minister, looking up. The peasant hesitated a little. "I prefer to have him christened alone," he said. "That is, on a week day?" "On next Saturday, twelve, noon." "Is there anything further?" asked the pastor. "There is nothing further." The peasant fumbled his cap, as if he were about to go. Then the pastor rose. "This much further," he said, and walked over to Thord, took his hand and looked him in the eyes. "God grant that the child may be a blessing to you." Sixteen years after that day Thord stood again in the pastor's study. "You carry the years well, Thord," said the minister, seeing no change in him. "Neither have I any cares," answered Thord. To this the pastor remained silent, but after a while he asked: "What is your errand this evening?" "This evening I come to see about my son, who is to be confirmed tomorrow." "He is a bright boy." "I did not wish to pay the pastor before I knew what number he is to have on the floor." "He shall stand number 1." "So I heard--and here is ten dollars for the pastor." "Is there anything further?" asked the minister looking up at Thord. "There is nothing further." Thord went away. Again eight years passed, then a noise was heard one day outside the pastor's study, for many men came and Thord first. The pastor looked up and recognized him: "You come strong in numbers this evening." "I wish to ask to have the banns pronounced for my son; he is to be married to Karen Storliden, daughter of Gudmund, who stands here." "She is the richest girl in the parish." "They say so," answered the peasant, smoothing back his hair with one hand. [Illustration: Do not keep both food and germs in the refrigerator. To prevent musty smells and keep air of refrigerator pure and sweet, place a bowl containing sponge sprinkled with Platt's Chlorides where food is kept. Wash sponge occasionally.] The minister sat for a time as if in thought. He said nothing, but registered the names in his books and the men signed accordingly. Thord laid three dollars on the table. "I should have only one," said the pastor. "I know it, too, but he is my only child--I wish to do well by you." The pastor took the money. "It is the third time now you stand here in behalf of your son, Thord." "But now I am through with him," said Thord. He folded his pocketbook together, said good-by and went. The men followed slowly after. A fortnight after that day the father and son rowed in calm weather across the water to Storliden to confer about the wedding. "This board does not lie securely under me," said the son, and got up to lay it aright. Just then the plank on which he stood slipped; he threw out his arms, gave a cry and fell in the water. "Take hold of the oar!" called the father, rising and holding it toward him. But when the son had made a few strokes he stiffened. "Wait a little!" cried the father, and rowed nearer. Then the son turned over backwards, gave a long look at the father--and sank. Thord would not believe it. He held the boat still and stared at the spot where his son had sunk down as if he were to come up again. Some bubbles rose to the surface, then a few more, then just one large one that burst--and the sea lay again like a mirror. For three days and three nights they saw the father rowing about that spot without food or sleep; he was searching for his son. On the third day in the morning he found him, and came carrying him up over the hills to his farm. A year perhaps had passed since that day. Then the pastor, late one autumn evening, heard something in the hallway outside his door fumbling cautiously for the latch. The minister opened the door and in stepped a tall, bent man, thin and white-haired. The minister looked long at him before he recognized him; it was Thord. "Do you come so late?" said the pastor and stood still before him. "O, yes, I come late," said Thord, seating himself. The pastor also sat down as if waiting. There was a long silence, then Thord said: "I have something with me that I wish to give to the poor; it shall be in the form of a legacy and carry my son's name." He got up, laid money on the table and sat down again. The pastor counted the money. "That is a great deal," he said. "It is half of my farm; I sold it today." The minister remained sitting a long time in silence; finally he asked gently, "What are you now going to do, Thord?" "Something better." They sat for a time, Thord with his eyes upon the floor, and the pastor with his eyes upon Thord. Finally the pastor said slowly: "Now I believe your son has finally become a blessing to you." "Yes, now I also think so myself," said Thord. He looked up and two tears rolled heavily down over his face.--_Current Literature._ [Illustrated Advertisement] Velvet Grip Rubber Button =Hose Supporter= FOR BOYS AND GIRLS is easy, safe and economical; allows the utmost freedom of movement and is readily attached. It interests children in dressing themselves. All genuine have the Moulded Rubber Button, and Velvet Grip is stamped on the loops. GEORGE FROST COMPANY, Boston, U.S.A. Sample pair, children's size (give age), mailed on receipt of 16 cents. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] =BEAUTY IS BORN OF HEALTH= and Health is the foundation of all the joys of life. The mission of =ANHEUSER BUSCH'S _MALT-NUTRINE_= is to bring the pleasures of health and strength to all. It is a liquid food and gives vigor and nutrition to those lacking the power of perfect digestion. Declared by U.S. Revenue Department A PURE MALT PRODUCT and not an alcoholic beverage =SOLD BY DRUGGISTS AND GROCERS= =ANHEUSER-BUSCH St. Louis, Mo.= * * * * * [Advertisement] Desserts in hot weather should be Light and Delicate The Delicious Flavor of Burnett's Vanilla Is Essential to their Success. Write for our handsome, new book of recipes for ice creams, parfaits, ices, etc. JOSEPH BURNETT CO. Dept. E 38 India St., Boston, Mass. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] You'll Like It--Everybody Likes It MINUTE GELATINE (PLAIN) Sample Free. Enough to Make One Pint. The very highest quality of Gelatine put up in the famous "Already Measured" package. Ordinarily directions say, "Take ¼ package," etc., leaving you to =guess= really at the amount, for no one can be sure of pouring out just ¼ of a package of anything. Every package of Minute Gelatine is divided into =fourths=, and =each fourth makes one pint= of delicious dessert, a whole package making =one-half gallon=. Give us your grocer's name and we will send you =free= enough to make one pint, also the Minuteman Cook Book, containing 35 tested receipts for Minute Gelatine. MINUTE TAPIOCA COMPANY, 18-19 West Main Street, Orange, Mass. * * * * * The Secret of It "Rita"--so Mrs. Desmond Humphreys, the English novelist, is called--was condemning in New York the frequency of divorce in America. "You Americans," she said, "don't seem to possess the secret of matrimonial happiness. Perhaps you might take a lesson from a city clerk I heard of recently. "A friend of this clerk's, after visiting him at his home, said: 'Excuse me, Will, but how do you manage, on your small salary, to have such well cooked and delicious meals?' "'The secret is simple,' Will replied; 'every day I kiss the cook and do all I can to please her and make her happy.' "'But doesn't your wife object?' the other asked. "'Dear no--she's the cook,' was the reply." * * * * * One fall Farmer True sold a large part of his hay in order to buy some new green blinds for his house and a smart kitchen clock. The neighbors heartily disapproved. Spring came, and with it the downfall of his pride, for alas! he had not hay enough to feed his cattle until they should be turned out to grass. Thereupon he humbly sought a neighbor, and asked him if he had any hay to lend. "Well," said the neighbor, deliberately, stroking his chin, "I dunno's I've got any hay to lend, an' I dunno's I've got any to sell. Why don't ye drive yer cattle up an' let 'em look at yer green blinds an' hear yer clock strike?" But he sold him some just the same. [Illustrated Advertisement] SUN PASTE STOVE POLISH _Let Science Make Your Housework Easy._ "Domestic Science" =Domestic Science= applied to Stove Polish means SUN PASTE every time. You can prove it. Can we help you to prove it now? You want the BRIGHTEST, EASIEST and QUICKEST DUSTLESS Stove Polish you can get. We have it. You owe it to yourself to use the best in this case, because it costs you no more. Just ask your grocer for SUN PASTE. Insist upon it. MORSE BROS., Proprietors, CANTON, MASS. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Vantine's _Orange Pekoe Tea_ =The favorite of connoisseurs.= Our special blend of choice and rare teas, imported only by us. Delicate, fragrant, delicious, refreshing. No other has the =flavor=. If you love fine tea, send 50c for trial half pound package, or $1.00 for pound. _Oriental Table Delicacies_ =Dainties to please the epicure.= Rare foods, fruits, nuts and confections which lend charm and novelty to afternoon tea, card party reception or any home function. Provide a =real treat=. Free Dainty Oriental booklet descriptive of our appetizing delicacies for your dealer's name. The name Vantine has stood for exclusive quality for over half a century. Vantine goods are sold by high grade dealers. VANTINE'S (Importers) Dept. 3-S, 12 E. 18th St., N.Y. City * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Huyler's METROPOLITAN SWEET CHOCOLATE HIGHEST IN QUALITY SMOOTHNESS AND FLAVOR TEN CENTS & FIVE CENTS * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Manning-Bowman Alcohol Gas Stove [Illustration: Made with one two or three burners] Alcolite Wick-Feed Burner--burns denatured alcohol This stove is furnished with Manning-Bowman Chafing Dishes and it more than doubles the practical value of every chafing dish equipped with it. The Alcohol Gas Stove is really a portable cooking range, being sufficiently powerful for any kind of cooking with any sort of cooking utensil. A great thing for light housekeeping, impromptu meals, late suppers, picnics and camping. Manning-Bowman Pot Style Coffee Percolators make coffee quickly from _cold water_ on this stove. The stove is sold separately when so desired. All dealers have the Manning-Bowman Quality Alcohol Gas Stoves, Percolators, Chafing Dishes and Accessories, and the "Eclipse" Bread Mixer. [Illustration: Pot Style Percolator on Alcohol Gas Stove] [Illustration: No. 345-84 Chafing Dish Alcohol Gas Stove] Write for free Book of Recipes and Catalog "J-19" MANNING, BOWMAN & CO., MERIDEN, CONN. * * * * * How to Utilize Bacon Grease Bacon grease is the best available medium for frying. It is the most toothsome and the purest. Contrast the clean lines and flavor of bacon grease with the insipid, ghastly-looking product known as lard, made from who knows what. Pure leaf lard is rare, and even at its best the rich, tempting savor of bacon is vastly preferable. Bacon, properly prepared for those who do not engage in heavy manual labor and therefore do not need much of the rich heat producing fat, should be fried to a crisp, until it is to all intents entirely lean. Then it is a dish fit for gods, and for mortals who know what is good. Then there is left the grease, golden brown and delicious. Now the usefulness of bacon only begins. Hear this! From one pound of breakfast bacon you get one pint of precious bacon grease. What do with it? That's easy. Fry eggs in it. You will never again use lard. Even butter is inferior to it. Season boiled string beans with it. It is a substitute for cooking bacon with them. Two or three tablespoonfuls will give the proper flavor. Use the bacon fat in place of butter or lard. * * * * * On a festive occasion Mr. Jones, who is by nature courtesy itself, complimented a middle-aged lady upon her dress, the upper part of which was of black lace. "Nothing," said he, "to my mind is so becoming as black and yellow." "Yellow!" she cried. "Oh, good gracious! That's not my dress, that's _me_!"--_James Payn, in the Independent._ * * * * * Cardinal Manning visited a Liverpool convent, where an Irishwoman was cook. She begged his blessing, and, when it was given, looked up at his frail figure, and exclaimed, "May the Lord preserve your eminence, and oh, may he forgive your cook!" [Illustrated Advertisement] =We teach you how to make Candy= by professional methods. You can easily learn to make the most delicious candy. Our Home Candy Making Outfit includes a candy thermometer, recipes, etc., that insures success. We teach you how to make French bonbons, nougat, chocolate creams and all the finest candies. Many women whom we have taught make candy to sell. Make Your Own Candy It is much cheaper, purer and more delicious than any candy you can buy. WRITE FOR FREE BOOKLET that explains our system of teaching candy making at home. =THE HOME CANDY MAKERS= =202 Bar Street,= =Canton, Ohio= * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] GAIL BORDEN EAGLE BRAND BORDEN'S BRANDS HAVE NO EQUAL They Perfectly Solve The Milk Problem BORDEN'S CONDENSED MILK CO. =Est. 1857= "_Leaders of Quality_" =New York= * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Make Your Own Ice-cream WITH JUNKET TABLETS Junket Ice Cream with strawberries Requires no eggs, corn-starch, or gelatine, and only one part cream and three parts pure milk. The Junket process makes an exquisitely delicious, smooth, velvety ice-cream at half the usual cost. A charming little booklet containing many recipes, among them one for Junket Ice-cream with strawberries, by Janet McKenzie Hill, the famous lecturer and editor of _The Boston Cooking-School Magazine_, comes free with every package. Sold by all grocers or mailed postpaid for ten cents. CHR. HANSEN'S LABORATORY Box 2507 Little Falls, N.Y. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Kornlet _Is the Milk of Sweet Green Corn, Preserved in Cans When Corn is at its Best_ --_Nothing_ makes such delicious puddings, fritters, griddle cakes and soups. Now--to associate Kornlet in your mind with summer green corn--procure nine full ears, the best the market affords; score and press the _milk_ from the kernels as completely as possible. This will be equivalent to one can of Kornlet and may be used successfully for all the dishes we have mentioned. After that, simply remember that when green corn is out of season you can have these same delicious dishes by using Kornlet in the same recipes. Book of recipes sent free for your grocer's name. During the green corn season, nine ears of corn take the place of one can of Kornlet. =The Haserot Canneries Co. Cleveland, Ohio, U.S.A.= * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] THE KETTLE SPOON HOLDER MADE OF ALUMINUM ALWAYS USEFUL BUT ESPECIALLY CONVENIENT DURING THE PRESERVING SEASON AGENTS WANTED AT STORES OR BY MAIL 10¢ THE BARNARD CO. DEPT. 60 BOSTON, MASS. * * * * * [Advertisement] SHELLED NUTS CHOCOLATES and other supplies for =Home Candy Making= and table use can be bought in small lots at reasonable prices. These goods are all first-class and guaranteed. =Send for Price List.= ADDRESS WARD SHELLED NUT CO. P.O. Box 3506, Boston, Massachusetts * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] SAMPLE FREE KITCHEN BOUQUET GIVES A DELICIOUS FLAVOR AND RICH COLOR TO SOUPS, SAUCES, GRAVIES, ETC. Used by Leading Chefs and Eminent Teachers of Cookery. =THE PALISADE MFG. CO. 353 CLINTON AVE. WEST HOBOKEN, N.J=. * * * * * The Evening Game When daddy holds me on his knee A-playin' Creep-er-Mouse, He walks his fingers up my legs, An' all around my blouse, Nen drives the mouse into its house In underneaf my chin, An' I des laugh an' laugh an' laugh-- An' nen say, "Do it agin!" It's dretful when he's climbin' up, It makes me shiver some, But I des double up my fists An' watch the old mouse come; It's worser, heaps, when in he creeps Up underneaf my chin. I laugh till daddy has to stop-- Nen I say, "Do it agin!" --_Woman's Home Companion._ * * * * * One of the latest kitchen novelties is a spoon holder, which hangs on the inside of any preserving kettle and holds the stirring spoon when not in use. They are made of aluminum and will not rust. By using one, you dispense with saucer, cup or plate to hold the spoon, and the spoon is always ready for use and always where it is to be used. After you have once used this little article you would not part with it for five times its cost. * * * * * Grape Juice The finest grape juice is obtained by pressing the grapes without boiling. After all juice has been extracted by the _Yale Fruit Press_, place pulp in kettle, bring to a boiling point, then continue pressing operation. This latter will yield a darker colored juice and not so delicate in flavor as the juice extracted by the cold process. In bottling or canning do not mix, but put up separately. Cold process juice must be heated to the boiling point before it is bottled. [Illustrated Advertisement] FOR THE BRIDE and Those Who Have Been Brides Moth-Proof Red Cedar Chifforobe Examine it--on 15 days' approval ¶ The honest craftsmanship of old Colonial days is reflected in our work. This beautiful chifforobe (chiffonier and wardrobe combined) is built of genuine Southern Red Cedar--the only absolutely moth-proof wood. Within its air-tight doors your furs, fine clothing and hats are absolutely safe from moths, dust and dampness. Piedmont Chests save storage charges. Sold direct to the home, all jobbers' and retailers' profits saved, to the benefit of the purchaser. Practically our only sales expense is advertising to tell you about these chests. We prepay freight east of the Mississippi River--also return transportation charges if chests are not satisfactory. Write today for our beautiful catalog showing many designs of Red Cedar Chests, Highboys, Lowboys and Chifforobes at prices that will interest you. Piedmont Red Cedar Chest Co., Dept. 31, Statesville, N.C. * * * * * [Advertisement] LADY WANTED To introduce our very complete Fall line of beautiful wool suitings, wash fabrics, fancy waistings, silks, hdkfs, petticoats, etc. Up to date N.Y. City Patterns. Finest line on the market. Dealing direct with the mills you will find our prices low. If others can make $10.00 to $30.00 weekly, you can also. Samples, full instructions in neat sample case, shipped express prepaid. No money required. Exclusive territory. Write for particulars. Be first to apply. =STANDARD DRESS GOODS COMPANY, Dept. 685, BINGHAMTON, N.Y.= * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] START A MILLINERY BUSINESS For $50.00 or $100.00 =Here's an opportunity to establish yourself in a paying Millinery Business of your own.= Ours is one of the largest =WHOLESALE MILLINERY= houses in the world. One of the most successful branches of this immense concern is selling Millinery stocks. We will sell you a complete stock of the latest city styles in Ladies', Misses' and Children's Hats for $50.00, or a larger line for $100.00. YOU DO NOT NEED A TRIMMER; ALL THE HATS ARE COMPLETELY TRIMMED AND READY TO WEAR. =Millinery pays a BIG profit.= If you can invest $50.00 or $100.00 now, you will be able to turn over your investment many times a season. After you start =YOUR= business, we will send you illustrated catalogues, booklets, etc., thus keeping you posted on the new styles. =Thousands of successful men and women have started in business with one of our stocks. Many of them, not wanting to start in a separate store, rented space in a general store that did not handle millinery.= =Now is the time to prepare to start.= Write immediately for itemized list No. 40. It tells what our $50.00 and $100.00 Fall and Winter stocks consist of, gives our terms, etc. A postal will bring it. =No goods sold at retail. We sell only to those buying to sell again at a profit.= Chicago Mercantile Co. 106-108-110-112 Wabash Ave., CHICAGO * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] _1847_ ROGERS BROS. X S TRIPLE "_Silver Plate that Wears_" Charter Oak Pattern The famous trade mark "_1847_ ROGERS BROS." on spoons, forks, knives, etc., guarantees the _heaviest_ triple plate. Send for catalogue "U 8." MERIDEN BRITANNIA CO., (International Silver Co., Successor) New York Chicago MERIDEN, CONN. San Francisco * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] YALE FRUIT PRESS The best, most practical and durable press on the market. Unequaled for making =Jellies, Jams, Cider, Grape Juice, Sausage, Lard and hundreds of other things.= Every home should have one. Saves time, labor and trouble and soon pays for itself. The Yale Fruit Press is easily used and easily cleaned. Clamps to any table or handy place. Place cotton bag filled with material in colander, fix beam in position, attach crank to wheel and every pound pulled on same exerts 48 pounds pressure on contents. Made of steel and iron, plated. Four quart size, price only =$3.95= If your dealer will not supply you, do not accept a substitute, but order direct of us. =Sold on 10 Days' Trial. Money back if not satisfied.= Write today for =FREE= booklet--"Aunt Sally's Best Recipes"--of interest to every housewife. Also gives full description and prices of Yale Fruit Presses. VICTOR M. GRAB & CO. _Patentees and Sole Manufacturers,_ 1162 Ashland Block, Chicago, Illinois * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] These trade-mark crisscross lines on every package CRESCO FLOUR For DYSPEPTICS SPECIAL DIETETIC FLOUR K. C. WHOLE WHEAT FLOUR Unlike all other goods. Ask grocers. For book of sample, write FARWELL & RHINES, WATERTOWN, N.Y., U.S.A. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] FLEISCHMANN'S COMPRESSED YEAST HAS NO EQUAL * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] BEST BY TEST USE SAUER'S FLAVORING EXTRACTS 10¢ AND 25¢ * * * * * One of the greatest aids and "step-savers" for the woman who does her own work is a "Wheel-Tray." Its cost represents not more than you'd have to pay a domestic for two or three weeks. The advantage of _this_ helper is that it is always ready, never wants "an evening off," never argues, never sulks and is always "Bridget on the spot," if we may be permitted this adaptation of the well-known phrase. Ten dollars for the Wheel-Tray will save you hundreds of dollars' worth of labor, worry and time. Those who have used it say they cannot now get along without it. It will last for years, has no breakable or intricate parts and glides about like a silent, well-trained butler. In addition to its help in kitchen and dining-room, some use it sweeping days, taking the small articles out of a room before sweeping. It saves many steps in one home in distributing the freshly-ironed clothes to their respective bureau drawers. Blackberry Muffins 1 cup blackberries 1 cup warm milk 1 cake Fleischmann's Yeast 2 cups sifted flour 2 tablespoonfuls granulated sugar 1 tablespoonful butter ¼ teaspoonful salt 1 well-beaten egg Have milk lukewarm, dissolve yeast into it; then add sugar, butter, salt, egg well beaten; add flour gradually and beat thoroughly; cover; set aside to rise for one and one-half hours. Then stir in very lightly the cup of berries and put in well-greased muffin tins. Let rise for twenty minutes. Bake twenty minutes in a moderate oven. This makes one dozen. Takes about two and one-half hours. Should be eaten hot and are very delicious. [Illustrated Advertisement] HUB RANGES A STUDY OF THIS CUT, OUR "SILENT SALESMAN," Gives a very comprehensive idea of the many fine features Hub Ranges possess. A valuable feature not shown on cut is =The Hub Improved Sheet Flue.= It carries heat directly under all six covers--making them all available for cooking purposes; then, around five sides of the oven--making it much more evenly and economically heated. All =Hub= Ranges made with or without gas attachments. _Send for "Range Talk No. 3"_ Smith & Anthony Company 52-54 Union St., Boston, Mass. Sold by the best dealers everywhere * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Salads, Sandwiches and Chafing-dish Dainties By Mrs. JANET MCKENZIE HILL, Editor The Boston Cooking-School Magazine _A New and Revised Edition. Profusely Illustrated._ 230 pages. Price, $1.50 Salads and chafing-dish dainties are destined to receive in the future more attention from the progressive housekeeper than has as yet been accorded to them. In the past their composition and consumption has been left chiefly to that portion of the community "who cook to please themselves." But since women have become anxious to compete with men in every walk of life, they, too, are desirous to become adepts in tossing up an appetizing salad or in stirring a creamy rarebit. The author has aimed to make it the most practical and reliable treatise on these fascinating branches of the culinary art that has yet been published. Due attention has been given to the a b c of the subjects, and great care exercised to meet the actual needs of those who wish to cultivate a taste for palatable and wholesome dishes, or to cater to the vagaries of the most capricious appetites. The illustrations are designed to accentuate, or make plain, a few of the artistic effects that may be produced by various groupings or combinations of simple and inexpensive materials. We will mail "Salads, Sandwiches and Chafing-Dish Dainties," postpaid, on receipt of price, $1.50, or as a premium for three new yearly subscriptions to the magazine. THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO. BOSTON, MASS. * * * * * [Advertisement] MADAM A. CRAYL'S Success Correspondence School for Women A school of 130 occupations for women. Unfailing opportunities for money making. =Special courses in stay-at-home-and-make-money occupations.= Learn by mail how to increase your income $10 to $100 a week. Book, "How Women May Earn a Living, 119 Ways," presented each pupil. Total expense for Course, covering 90 days, only $5. Terms in advance. =If in One Week You Are Dissatisfied Your Money Refunded= _Enroll today. Send stamp for particulars. Address_ Madam A. Crayl's Success Correspondence School for Women P.O. Box 1412, Springfield, Mass. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Housewives should have this great Stepsaver in serving meals. One trip with Wheel Tray sets table. Another completely clears it. This table on wheels moves easily anywhere you want it. Height 31 in. Removable oval trays, 23 in, by 28 in. and 21 in. by 26 in., extra heavy steel. 8 in. rubber tire wheels. Gloss black japan finish. Price =$10=, express prepaid. =$12= to Pacific Coast. Write for circular and learn its convenience. Wheel-Tray Co., 435 G West 61st Place, Chicago * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Quilted Mattress Pads THREE SCORE and TEN YEARS is a long life, yet about one-third of it is spent in bed. Then why not make your bed as comfortable as it can be made? Quilted Mattress Pads will not only make it comfortable, but as they are spread over the mattress, they will protect it, and will keep your bed or baby's crib in a perfect sanitary condition. "None genuine without Trade Mark." Quilted Mattress Pads wash perfectly, and are as good as new after laundering. They are sold in all sizes by dry goods dealers EXCELSIOR QUILTING CO. 15 Laight St., NEW YORK * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] TANGLEFOOT, the Original Fly Paper FOR 25 YEARS THE STANDARD IN QUALITY. ALL OTHERS ARE IMITATIONS. * * * * * Important Legal Decision The Liebig's Extract of Meat Company of London, makers of the celebrated Liebig's Extract of Meat, has gained an important victory in its suit against the Liebig Extract Company of Hudson and Thomas streets, New York City, by the decision recently handed down of the United States Circuit Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit. The principal issue was as to the right of the Liebig Company of London to exclusive ownership in the name "_Liebig_," and the Appellate Court has now given a decision, with heavy costs against the Liebig Extract Company of New York, and enjoins that company from using the word "_Liebig_" in connection with the sale of extract of meat. Since this decision is final and not subject to further appeal, it should mark the end of infringements on the original and genuine Liebig Extract of Meat made by Liebig's Extract of Meat Company of London, under rights acquired from the eminent Baron Justus von Liebig, whose facsimile signature "J. v. Liebig," in blue, is a prominent feature of the package. * * * * * A negro, says Mr. Thomas Kane in the _Interior_, was pressed to tell why he had left the Methodists and joined the Episcopal Church. "Why did you do it?" was the question. "Well," he replied, "we is moh oddehly; we has moh style." "Yes, but what do you do?" "Well, fo' one thing, we has responsible readin's." "Well, what else?" "Well, we has Roman candles on de alteh, and den we buhn insec' powdeh." [Illustrated Advertisement] "PLAYBALL" Business is "play" with a breakfast of E-C the dainty, delicious Corn Flakes (Toasted) "The Best After All" * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] HOYT'S GLUTEN BISCUIT CRISPS MADE FROM GUM GLUTEN THE MOST DELICATE GLUTEN PRODUCT MADE RECOMMENDED FOR PROTEIN DIET AND FOR INFANT FEEDING SAMPLE MAILED FREE THE PURE GLUTEN FOOD CO., 90 WEST BROADWAY NEW YORK * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] F. A. WALKER & CO. Moulds Fancy Cutters Novelties for Cooking 83-85 CORNHILL SCOLLAY SQUARE BOSTON * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] How French Women Develop Their Bust First Opportunity Ever Given to the Ladies of America to Profit by the Mdme. DuBarrie Positive French Method of Bust Development. Many women believe that the bust cannot be developed or brought back to its former vigorous condition. Thousands of women have vainly used massage, electricity, pump instruments, creams, ointments, general tonics, constitutional treatments, exercises and other methods without results. Any Woman May Now Develop Her Bust Mdme. DuBarrie will explain to any woman the plain truth in regard to bust development, the reason for failure and the way to success. The =Mdme. DuBarrie Positive French Method= is different from anything else ever brought before American women. By this method any lady--young, middle aged or elderly--may develop her bust from =2 to 8 inches in 30 days=, and see definite results in 3 to 5 days, no matter what the cause of the lack of development. It is based on scientific facts, absolutely safe and lasting. _For complete illustrated information, sent sealed secure from observation, send your name and address, with a two-cent stamp. Communications strictly confidential._ Mdme. DuBarrie 1934 Quinlin Building, Chicago, Illinois * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] The Best Premium Offer We Ever Made Every One Who Has Received One of These Chafing Dishes Has Been Delighted With It, and surprised how easily the necessary subscriptions were secured. Have you obtained one yet? If not, start today to get the subscriptions, and within three or four days you will be enjoying the dish. This Chafer is a full-size, three-pint, nickel dish, with all the latest improvements, including handles on the hot water pan. It is the dish that sells for $5.00. We will send this chafing-dish, as premium, to any present subscriber who sends us six (6) NEW yearly subscriptions at $1.00 each. The express charges are to be paid by the receiver. ADDRESS THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO., BOSTON, MASS. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] THE MOST POPULAR PREMIUMS WE EVER OFFERED Have Been THE INDIVIDUAL MOULDS To any present subscriber who will send us TWO NEW yearly subscriptions, at $1 each, we will send, postpaid, as premium, =either= a set of eight aluminum _timbale_ moulds, fancy shapes (make your own selections), =or= a set of six _patent charlotte russe moulds_. =Patent Charlotte Russe Moulds= can be used not only in making charlotte russe, but for many other dishes. You can use them for timbales. You can mould jellies in them. You can bake cakes in them. Wherever individual moulds are called for, you can use these. The moulds we offer are made by a patent process. They have no seams, no joints, no solder. They are as near perfection as can be had. They retail at from $3 to $3.50 a dozen. =The Timbale Moulds= are made of aluminum and are without seams. They can be used for countless things: Timbales of chicken, ham, peas, corn, etc. Moulding individual fruit jellies. Moulding meats and salads in aspic jelly. For eggs Parisienne, fruit sponges, etc. ADDRESS ALL ORDERS TO THE BOSTON COOKING SCHOOL MAGAZINE, Boston, Mass. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] THE KETTLE SPOON HOLDER MADE OF ALUMINUM AGENTS WANTED ALWAYS USEFUL BUT ESPECIALLY CONVENIENT DURING THE PRESERVING SEASON THE BARNARD CO. DEPT. 60 BOSTON, MASS. AT STORES OR BY MAIL 10¢ * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] 75c. for 10c. =THE MAGAZINE THAT DARES= to print the news that's vital to human advancement. An absolutely =fearless= monthly, the exponent of constructive reform for the betterment of all. You never have seen such unless you know =THE TWENTIETH CENTURY MAGAZINE=. The editor is =B. O. Flower=, founder of The Arena. Among the contributors are =Edwin Markham=, =Lincoln Steffens=, =David Graham Phillips=, =Hamlin Garland=, =Prof. Charles Zueblin=, =Charles E. Russell=, =Brand Whitlock= and =Carl S. Vrooman=. You should see this new periodical. It is beautifully illustrated and handsomely printed. It entertains and illuminates. One copy will convince you that =there is no other magazine of equal strength in America=, but to clinch your interest in the glorious work that Mr. Flower is leading, =we will send you three sample issues, postpaid, all for only 10c=. Get this intellectual stimulus and literary treat and realize there is a =new force= in the magazine field. We'll refund your remittance without question if you say we have exaggerated the value of this great monthly. THE TWENTIETH CENTURY CO., 66 Park Sq., Boston, Mass. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] THE HOME IRONING MACHINE Made for gas or gasoline heat. It will iron all flat clothes, such as sheets, towels, etc., better than you can with a flatiron. Compared with the flatiron-- Saves Time It will save you four-fifths of the time it will take you with the flatiron. Saves Work It makes your ironing easier and the time shorter. Saves Money The heat costs you only one cent an hour and you burn fuel only one-fifth as long. Saves Clothes The "Home" is much easier on the clothes and does not scorch them. LIGHT----SIMPLE----INEXPENSIVE Our booklet "Clean Linen" will tell you more about it. Send for it today, it is free. HOME IRONING MACHINE 254 R. Madison St., Chicago, Ill. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] A NECESSITY IN EVERY KITCHEN American Kitchen Friend All made of the finest quality Crucible Steel, carefully tempered, ground and polished, by the latest improved process. Every handle fastened with a heavy brass rivet. Handles are hardwood, rubberoid finish, mounted with nickel-plated ferrules. Wrought Steel Rack, enameled in black, and when attached to wall has space suitable for dish covers, trays, cooking magazines, etc., etc. An outfit that should be in every up-to-date and economical housewife's kitchen. This is a first-class article in every particular. Set consists of extra heavy and large, hardened and tempered Steel Cleaver, Cook Fork, Paring Knife, Butcher Knife, Serrated Edged Bread Knife, Cake Knife, Emery Steel, Perforated Griddle Cake Turner, and Slotted Mixing Spoon. =OUR OFFER:= To any Present subscriber who will send us THREE NEW Yearly subscribers, with the $3.00 therefor, we will send, as premium for securing the three subscriptions, the "American Kitchen Friend" set as described above. Express charges to be paid by the receiver. The price of this set is =$1.50=. THE BOSTON COOKING-SCHOOL MAGAZINE CO.--BOSTON, MASS. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] The Yankee Knack The story of American industrial development has no more fascinating or impressive chapter than that devoted to the discoveries and improvements resulting from the extraordinary inventive genius of the New England workman. He is never content with things as they are. He is forever experimenting--and successfully. He searches until he finds the soul of the machine, and from this intimate acquaintance he begins to eliminate and improve. He accomplishes the paradox of perfecting a perfect article. If there is a practicable way to make one part do the work of two, if some added device will simplify a process or improve a product, he will not rest till he has worked out the problem. This passion for invention has been from the first a vigorous characteristic of the New England mind. The early settlers were artisans rather than tillers of the soil; and when by a bitter struggle with an undeveloped country they had supplied their immediate wants, they naturally turned again to manufacturing; and this mechanical bent, stimulated to alertness by a vigorous climate, resulted in course of time in an almost incredible mechanical ingenuity--the "Yankee Knack." This genius for simplification of processes, this wonderful knack of devising machinery which will do the work of the human hand, has multiplied the output of our factories: and this in turn has increased wages and decreased the hours of labor, and so brought a great uplift into the lives of our workmen; given them the power to provide better homes for their families, better education for their children, and greater leisure in which to work out a broader destiny for themselves. As in the past, so in the present and the future. The "Yankee Knack," which long since turned New England into a vast workshop, is still at its age-long task--simplifying, improving; lowering cost of production, ever raising quality of product--and all to the end that the average American family shall enjoy today what were luxuries but yesterday, and gratify in their turn the yet undiscovered desires of tomorrow. Pilgrim Publicity Association, Boston [Copyright. 1910] * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] We are the original makers of Level Lying Hammocks No one attempts the quality we produce. We sell direct to the consumer. From $7.50 to $50.00 each Send For Booklet QUEEN HAMMOCK CO., 67 Harrison St., Kalamazoo, Mich. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] NEW STANDARD ROTARY Our agencies sell them on easy terms to suit convenience of purchasers. STANDARD SEWING MACHINE CO. F. C. HENDERSON, Manager, Boston, Mass. Write nearest agency: Shepard-Norwell Co., Boston Sibley, Lindsay & Curr, Rochester, Joseph Horne Co., Pittsburg, L. S. Ayres & Co., Indianapolis Stix-Baer & Fuller, St. Louis. The J. L. Hudson Co., Detroit Forbes & Wallace, Springfield The Shepard Company, Providence John Wanamaker, New York John Wanamaker, Phila. The May Co., Cleveland Dey Bros., Syracuse S. Kann Sons & Co., Washington The Sweeney Co., Buffalo E. S. Brown Co., Fall River * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] "Human=Talker" is our registered name of a Parrot imported exclusively by us from certain districts in Old Mexico, ONLY KNOWN TO US and GUARANTEED to learn to talk, sing and whistle BETTER and MORE HUMAN-LIKE THAN ANY OTHER PARROT. YOUNG, tame, genuine hand-raised and beautiful plumaged birds only =$10 If Ordered Before Oct. 1 Later $15.00= MONEY REFUNDED IF DON'T TALK SATISFACTORILY. Sold under written guarantee on 6 months trial. Live arrival at express office guaranteed. CHEAPER VARIETIES OF MEXICAN PARROTS $4.50 Mrs. E. Des. Ermia, Adrian, Mich., R. 2, writes; "My 'Human-Talker' is a wonder, talks everything, spells, counts to 6 and sings. Money would not buy him." ILLUSTRATED CATALOG, BOOKLET AND PROOFS FREE. Max Geisler Bird Co., Dep. R-2. Omaha, Neb. Largest, Oldest Mail Order Bird House in the World * * * * * [Advertisement] DOMESTIC SCIENCE Home-Study Courses Food, health, housekeeping, clothing, children. For home-makers, teachers and for well-paid positions, "=The Profession of Home-Making=," 70-page handbook, _free_. Bulletins, "=The Up-to-Date Home: Money and Labor Saving Appliances=," 48 pages, 54 illustrations--_10 cents_. "=Food Values: Practical Methods in Dietetics=," 32 pp., ill., _10 cents_. American School of Home Economics, 503 W. 69th St., Chicago, Ill. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] 400 FRUIT AND JELLY LABELS 25c. Full assortment. Printed on heavy gummed paper and bound in book form. A big seller. Agents Wanted. (Dept. K.) CENTURY MFG. CO., LAWRENCE, KANSAS * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Spend Your Vacation in Cool Nova Scotia Reached from Boston via the DOMINION ATLANTIC RAILWAY S. S. LINE (The Land of Evangeline Route) Steamers "Prince George," "Prince Arthur," and "Boston." 8 trips per week during summer season. Send 5 cents in stamps to the undersigned for beautifully illustrated booklets, "Summer Homes in Nova Scotia" and "Vacation Days," giving all fishing resorts, rates, etc. J. F. MASTERS, N.E. Supt., Long Wharf, Boston * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] Ivory Soap is not an ordinary laundry soap. It is a better-than-ordinary soap. It is made of _better-than-ordinary_ materials and is intended to be used for _better-than-ordinary_ purposes. There are any number of soaps that cut dirt much more quickly than Ivory Soap will. They are fine--for cleaning pots and pans and cement walks. But don't wash shirtwaists with them; or woolens; or colored goods; or silks; or dainty dress fabrics; or laces; or any other article that is _better-than-ordinary_. For cleaning things of that kind, Ivory Soap is so much better than anything else that it really has no competitor. And the reason is simply this: Ivory Soap is pure. It contains no "free" alkali. 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In fact, Bon Ami polishes and cleans almost every kind of surface. And it does this without injuring or roughening the hands or the article upon which it is used. _18 years on the market and "hasn't scratched yet."_ GRIFFITH-STILLINGS PRESS 368 CONGRESS ST., BOSTON * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] A PURE PRODUCT OF A PERFECT PROCESS BAKER'S BREAKFAST COCOA is made from the best cocoa beans, scientifically blended. =Absolutely pure, healthful, and delicious.= Registered, U.S. Pat. Off. Get the genuine with our trade-mark on the package 52 Highest Awards in Europe and America Walter Baker & Co. Limited Established 1780 DORCHESTER, MASS. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] TRIED SEE AND YOUR TRUE GROCER HOUSEHOLD FAVORITES SAWYER'S 50 YEARS THE PEOPLE'S CHOICE SAWYER CRYSTAL BLUE CO. 88 BROAD ST. BOSTON, MASS. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] VEUVE CHAFFARD PURE OLIVE OIL BOTTLED IN FRANCE IN HONEST BOTTLES FULL QUARTS FULL PINTS FULL ½ PINTS SOLD BY PARK & TILFORD, New York S. S. PIERCE CO., BOSTON * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] A Can of Mrs. Lincoln's Baking Powder from the Grocer's Shelf will make those hot rolls better than they ever were before. * * * * * [Illustrated Advertisement] VOSE PIANOS have been established more than 50 YEARS. By our system of payments every family in moderate circumstances can own a VOSE piano. We take old instruments in exchange, and deliver the new piano in your home free of expense. Write for Catalogue D and explanations. VOSE & SONS PIANO CO., 160 Boylston Street, Boston, Mass. * * * * * Buy advertised goods--do not accept substitutes 
36781	----	HOUSEHOLD ADMINISTRATION ITS PLACE IN THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMEN EDITED BY ALICE RAVENHILL AND CATHERINE J. SCHIFF NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1911 Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh PREFACE The object of this book is threefold. (1) It endeavours to define the importance and scope of household administration in the twentieth century, which, when analysed into its component parts, is found intimately to concern the right conduct and domestic care of individual human lives, from their inception to their close. (2) It seeks to demonstrate the necessity of an adequate preparation for all who assume the responsibility of such administration; particularly for those who, in consequence of their parental responsibilities, their wealth, their social status, or their professional duties, exercise far-reaching influence through their standard of life and example. (3) Finally, it gives prominence to the fact that the domestic arts are no collection of empirical conventions, to be acquired by imitation or exercised by instinct. It is clearly demonstrated that the group of sciences upon which they rest is more comprehensive than most people suspect, and that their contribution to the solution of pressing domestic problems has so far been but partially realised. It is, therefore, of considerable interest to observe the remarkable consensus of opinion on each of these points among the recognised experts in their subjects, to whom were entrusted the preparation of the various sections of this book. The writers of the papers, untrammelled by editorial restrictions, each writing from the fulness of her knowledge, tested by ripe experience, reached independently conclusions conspicuous for their unanimity. It will be evident to the most casual reader that, in the opinion of these thoughtful women, blind instinct must yield place to trained intelligence, if home life is to be preserved and modern conditions of existence adequately adjusted to human requirements. Progressive changes, social, commercial, industrial, and, last but not least, educational, now require that this trained intelligence be fostered by organised instruction outside the home, adapted to the needs, present or prospective, of girls in every grade of society. Such instruction, whether in the fundamental sciences or in the applied arts, must be associated with individual practice in laboratory, studio, workroom, and kitchen; the details to be varied as circumstances dictate. If, however, consistent applications of such knowledge are to be made in order that desirable saving in time, labour, money, health, or happiness shall be effected, graduate women of high attainments are urgently needed for the work. It is they only who can bring to bear upon the problems of childhood and adolescence, of food, of clothing, of housing, of domestic economics, of occupation, rest, and recreation, the patient study and research in the interests of humanity, which men of similar standing have lavished upon the advancement of commerce and industrial processes. It is by their skilled labour in the almost untrodden field of domestic science that the millions of homes will benefit which are committed to the charge of women who possess neither time, opportunity, nor ability to carry out these indispensable investigations, but who can yet effectively fulfil their responsibilities, if they be supported by systematic training and organised common sense, based on sound knowledge. It is in the hope of forwarding these objects that this book has been prepared. ALICE RAVENHILL. CATHERINE SCHIFF. _Nov. 1910._ CONTENTS INTRODUCTION--A BRIEF HISTORICAL SKETCH OF WOMAN'S POSITION IN THE FAMILY 11 By CATHERINE SCHIFF, Officier d'Académie THE PLACE OF BIOLOGY IN THE EQUIPMENT OF WOMEN 35 By WENONA HOSKYNS-ABRAHALL, M.A. (Dub.) SCIENCE IN THE HOUSEHOLD 71 By Mrs. W. N. SHAW, formerly Lecturer of Newnham College, Cambridge. Author of "First Lessons in Observational Geometry." THE ECONOMIC RELATIONS OF THE HOUSEHOLD 121 By MABEL ATKINSON, M.A. (Glasgow), Lecturer in Economics, King's College for Women (University of London), formerly Scott Scholar in the University of Glasgow; Research Student at the London School of Economics; and Fellow of Economics, Bryn Mawr College, U.S.A. Author of "Local Government in Scotland." SOME RELATIONS OF SANITARY SCIENCE TO FAMILY LIFE AND INDIVIDUAL EFFICIENCY 207 By ALICE RAVENHILL, late Lecturer in Hygiene, King's College for Women (University of London), &c. Author of "Practical Hygiene," "Some Characteristics and Requirements of Childhood," "Elements of Sanitary Law," "Household Foes." MODERN WOMAN AND THE DOMESTIC ARTS-- I. NEEDLEWORK AND DRESSMAKING 295 By Mrs. R. W. EDDISON, Gen. Hon. Sec. Yorkshire Ladies' Council of Education, Added Member of Education Committee of County Council of West Riding of Yorkshire, &c. II. HOUSECRAFT 308 By MAUD R. TAYLOR, Examiner in Domestic Science. A BRIEF HISTORICAL SKETCH OF WOMAN'S POSITION IN THE FAMILY BY CATHERINE SCHIFF The home must always claim the first place in the large majority of women's lives. It has done so in the past, it does so in the present, it will continue to do so in the future. But woman's activities are no longer to be merely confined to her own fireside, though that must always hold a prominent place. The real problem of the day is the right conduct of the home on scientific lines. In some ways the management of the home has never been more difficult. The servant problem has never been more acute than to-day; the cost of living and the standard of comfort is going up by leaps and bounds, and the old recipe of "Feed the brute," as far as the husband is concerned, is no less inefficient. It is essential to-day to know something about food values, the arrangement of meals, which avoid monotony, and provide that requisite variety in nourishment, on which the good health and ultimately the good temper of the household depend. Again we are realising the great complexities of all questions dealing with child-rearing and education. We have travelled far from the self-complacency of the woman of thirty years ago, who based her claims to a thorough knowledge of the up-bringing of children on the fact that she had buried ten. This need for wider knowledge in all branches of housekeeping is equally important to the unmarried woman, who is more and more being called upon to act as a foster-mother, whether as a teacher or in some other capacity, to the nation's children. The care of the children is considered by all shades of opinion to be the _clou_ of a woman's life, and every day more and more responsibility is cast upon her in this respect. How can she, then, fulfil these duties as they should be fulfilled if she is utterly ignorant of the laws of health and of child-life, and how both are affected by environment and all the other grave and fundamental truths which lie at the root of the successful up-bringing and development of the child? It is now a hackneyed saying "that the child of to-day is the man or woman of to-morrow," but a whole world of truth lies enshrined in those words; the children are the assets of the nation, and if their up-bringing is not of the best they can never attain to that full heritage of development which is the right of every soul born into the world. Scientific training in Household Administration can alone save the sorely taxed housewife of to-day from becoming more than a slave to her domestic responsibilities. It is only by being a mistress of her craft, "whether China fall or no," that she can make sufficient time to devote herself to necessary self-culture and recreation as well as to those ever-growing outside duties which the twentieth century is imposing upon her in the shape of public and social work. If there is one thing which is becoming increasingly obvious, it is that the help and advice of scientifically trained women are absolutely necessary in the management of hospitals, the administration of the Poor Law, and the general solution of social problems. At no other epoch in the history of mankind has woman stood on the same high plane as she does to-day, and at no other period has so much been demanded of her, intellectually, morally, and physically. It is only within recent years that Science has attempted to come to the aid of woman in helping her firstly to obtain, and then to maintain, the position for which she was originally designed, as the complement of man and as the chief element of preservation in human society. If the history of mankind is traced back to primordial times, we find that it was the female who possessed power over the emotional nature of man, and it is becoming increasingly evident that the family owes its origin as a social factor to the Mother, not to the Father. Lippert is convinced "that the idea of an exclusively maternal kinship at one time extended over the whole earth," and McLennan says, "We shall endeavour to show that the most ancient system in which the idea of blood-relationship was embodied was a system of kinship through the females only." Occupation seems to have been the main factor in determining that the mother rather than the father should be the founder of the family. Agriculture originally appears to have been entirely the woman's industry, while the men were engaged in hunting or looking after the cattle, and wherever agriculture was the predominant feature of life we find that relationship is traced through the mother; while on the other hand those tribes who were chiefly pastoral had a paternal system of relationship--that is to say, that descent was counted through the males. Drummond, in his book on the "Ascent of Man," places the Evolution of Motherhood long before that of Fatherhood. "An early result, partly of her sex, partly of her passive strain, is the founding through the instrumentality of the first savage Mother of a new and beautiful social state--Domesticity--while Man, restless, eager, and hungry, is a wanderer on the Earth, Woman makes a Home!" And according to the same authority we find "that to Man has been assigned the fulfilment of the first great function--the Struggle for Life--Woman, whose higher contribution has not yet been named, is the chosen instrument for carrying on the Life of Others." Nature took many æons to make a mother, whose gift to the world was Love and Sympathy; the evolution of the Father came still later. "It was when man's mind first became capable of making its own provision against the weather and the crops that the possibility of Fatherhood, Motherhood and the Family were realised." "The Mother-age, with its mother-right customs, was a civilisation, as I have indicated, largely built up by woman's activity and developed by her skill; it was an age within the small social unit of which there was more community of interest, far more fellowship in labour and partnership in property and sex, than we find in the larger social unit of to-day."[1] In connection with this theory of the "Mother-age" it is interesting to note that the Etruscans traced their descent through the female line, and it was from the Etruscans that the Romans derived nearly all their institutions; thus many of the "initiative forces of civilisation" have come down to us from women. It is believed that the patriarchal system--where the man was the head of the family, as amongst the Jews--which succeeded the Mother-age, grew out of the custom of capturing women belonging to other tribes, this being succeeded later on by purchase, and "as soon as the woman ceased to be protected by the force of ideas, as soon, that is to say, as she lost her position as head of the family, her downward path was certain." But even among primitive people we find that it was an almost universal custom that a woman should be provided with an independent property, "Mitgift," though as time went on and the patriarchal system became more firmly established, it appears that this Mitgift became the husband's property, and that every bride was expected to bring a dowry to her husband, whose property she became, thus losing all independence. However, in Greece the position of woman, during the Heroic times was to a certain extent an independent one, as is clear from the poems of Homer and the treatment of Homeric and Heroic themes by the Athenian dramatists. But one has only to compare the "Nausicäa" of Homer or the "Electra" of the Tragedians with the women of the time of Pericles, to see how much the status of the female sex had deteriorated. The Athenian wife of that time was treated as a mere "Hausfrau," expected to spend her whole time at home in the managing of the household, while the husband satisfied his intellectual tastes by intercourse with the "Stranger-women" attracted to Athens from other towns. "Thus arose a most unnatural division of functions among the women of those days. The citizen-women had to be mothers and housewives--nothing more; the stranger-women had to discharge the duties of the companions, but remain outside the pale of the privileged and marriageable class."[2] To this artificial condition of domestic and social life may be partly attributed the downfall of Athens, for it is impossible to divide the functions of woman without serious risk to State and race. In ancient Rome the patriarchal system was the prevailing custom. Under the Roman law the husband was the only member of the family possessing legal rights. "The family (_familia_) in its original and proper meaning is the aggregate of members of a household under a common head; this head was the paterfamilias, the only member of the household who possesses legal rights."[3] It is true that there were many honoured women under the Roman Republic, such as Cornelia and Portia, the daughter of Cato, but the lot of the majority was not an enviable one. Gradually, however, the tutelage of women became less severe, and Justinian in revising the whole Roman code placed married and family life on an altogether new basis, "the husband lost his absolute control over his wife's dower, and in case of separation he had to restore it entire." Women had been for so long under such strict tutelage that they were unfit to benefit by these new laws. Doubtless it will be remembered that the corruption of the women of the period is practically unparalleled in history, but it must be also borne in mind that the whole system of Imperial government was so vicious that it was almost impossible for women to escape from the widespread influence of vice and corruption. Christianity as a force began to make itself felt while woman was yet in this low moral state, and it is not therefore surprising that to the leaders of Christianity the freedom which women then enjoyed and the easy method of divorce obtainable were in a large measure responsible for the vitiated state of Roman life. In their eyes the only means of producing a more salutary state of affairs was to put a check on what they considered a menace to a Christian society. It is of interest to notice how the attitude of the Early Fathers towards women differs from that of Our Lord as recorded in the Gospels. There indeed are women highly honoured, and it is to a woman that Christ often gives a message of the highest import. It was to Mary Magdalen that the Risen Lord first appeared and bade her tell the others, and again it was the woman of Samaria who became the instrument of salvation to her people. But to the Early Fathers the ascetic ideal was the predominant one, and in consequence thereof women were treated as the chief source of temptation to man. "Woman was represented as the door of Hell, as the mother of all human ills. She should be ashamed at the very thought that she is a woman. She should live in continual penance on account of the curses she has brought upon the world. She should be ashamed of her dress, for it is the memorial of her fall. She should be especially ashamed of her beauty, for it is the most potent instrument of the demon."[4] In fact a decree of the Council of Auxerre (A.D. 578) forbade women to receive the Eucharist in their naked hands owing to their impurity. Unfortunately "the bigotry of the Early Christian teachers gave the first check to the tendency to freer institutions, the next was given by the fall of the Empire." With the influx of the Teutonic tribes we find a new code of ideas and morals, but eventually a compromise was effected between the Germanic and Roman laws. Thus from very early times we find that it was a German custom to provide every bride with a dower, and this is remarked upon by Tacitus. Afterwards the Church adopted this custom, which was strangely enough both Roman and Teutonic in origin. From the time when the Empire went down in a cataclysm which shook the foundations of the world, until the beginning of the Middle Ages, we hear but little of woman. It was the Sturm and Drang period in the world's history, in which woman had no real position. The women of the upper classes were of necessity confined either to the castle or the convent, and woman's sphere was therefore a small one; man demanded nothing more than that they should minister to his physical wants in the short periods of peace he then enjoyed. Hallam says, "I am not sure that we could trace very minutely the condition of women for the period between the subversion of the Roman Empire and the First Crusade ... there seems however to have been more roughness in that social intercourse between the sexes than we find at a later period."[5] With the end of this stormy period comes the dawn of the Age of Chivalry, and from that time forward until the Reformation, woman enjoyed a portion at least of her rightful position. It is said that "Chivalry not only bestowed upon the woman perfect freedom in the disposal of hand and heart, but required of the knight who should win her, devoted and lengthened service"; this may be, however, a rather idealised view of the situation; but there is no doubt that the Court and the Cloister became the two centres of women's lives, and an intimate connection was maintained between the two. Nearly all women of gentle birth were educated in nunnery schools, and by the eighth century we find that these schools had attained a high standard of learning, which increased and developed in the succeeding centuries. The convent afforded a shelter to the woman who did not marry and to whom the marriage state did not appeal; there she was able to a certain extent to follow the career she desired, at the same time her personal safety was assured. "The scholar, the artist, the recluse, the farmer, each found a career open to him; while men and women were prompted to undertake duties within and without the religious settlement, which make their activity comparable to that of the relieving officer, the poor law guardian, and the district nurse of a later age."[6] It is perhaps of interest to us to note that the first hospital for lepers in England was founded by a woman, "good Queen Maud," in 1101 at S. Giles' on the East. The rule of an abbey or a priory called for no mean business capacity on the part of their heads, and as a rule the abbess and prioress were women of great business and administrative ability. Before the Norman Conquest nearly all the nunneries founded in England were abbacies, subsequently priories were the most usual foundations, as according to feudal law women were unable to hold property. The latter half of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries are renowned throughout history for their women, who, occupying foremost positions in the government, were clever, cultured, and liberal-minded. One has but to mention the names of Margaret, Countess of Richmond, the "Lady Margaret" of Oxford and Cambridge; of Leonore d'Este, the mother of equally famous daughters, Isabella and Beatrice d'Este; Marguerite de Valois, sister of Francis I., and Isabella of Castile, to conjure up before one's eyes the whole procession of the proud and capable women of these days. "One and all have been fruitful as successive stages of growth, yet they can never recur, and only the fanatic or visionary could wish that they should recur, for each is narrow and insufficient from the standpoint of a later age." In England "the women who were the mothers of the men who created the great Elizabethan epoch were almost without exception brought up in nunnery schools"[7] and, alas, the destruction of the nunneries and the rise of the Puritan spirit sounded the death-knell of women's education. After the Reformation the position of woman was peculiarly degrading; in the eyes of the law she possessed practically no status, and "the old chivalrous feeling for woman seems to have faded out with the romance of the Middle Ages--she now figured as the legal property of man, 'the safeguard against sin,' the bearer of children _ad infinitum_." So woman was left once more to sink back into a slough of despond, until with the end of the eighteenth century there arose the humanitarian movement and the gradual awakening of woman to the sense of her responsibility, with the inevitable corollary of her rightful position as the social equal of man. If these ideals are to be realised, woman must recognise her responsibilities and act accordingly. She has proved herself a more than apt student in all the liberal studies, she has practically forced the door of nearly all the professions, now she must realise that she must apply her higher learning to what is probably the most difficult profession of all, the management of the home, or in other words she must see that the knowledge she has acquired be adapted and turned to practical aims. Up to the present time the conduct of the home has been regulated purely by rule of thumb methods; if however in the future it can only be administered with the same method and scientific exactitude as prevail in other great business enterprises, the drudgery of housekeeping will diminish and woman will cease to be a slave to household duties. She will have more time to devote to the cultivation of her own mind, and thus, while becoming a more real companion to man, she will be free to take a more enlightened interest in the education and development of her children. "Incidentally this may go to prove that a sound knowledge of the household sciences and arts may serve, not to tie a woman more to the storeroom and kitchen, but to enable her to get better results with the expenditure of less time and energy, by enabling her to apply to everything simple and complex within the household the master-mind, instead of the mind of the uncertain amateur." Her responsibilities are great not only as an individual but as a member of the community to which she belongs; and if she is to fulfil these responsibilities in respect to the home, she cannot do so without a thorough scientific preparation. The home is the "cradle of life," it was the birthplace of those industries which to-day form the great centres and constitute the means of livelihood for millions. In some of these there is reason to believe that woman took her share as originator. With the process of time, these primitive practices have grown into the great industries and arts of to-day, yet it is still to the woman that the call comes to cultivate and use her taste in these matters, so that when it falls to her to be responsible for the decoration and furnishing of a house, she may be able to choose in all departments of life what is _the best_, to the everlasting benefit of herself and her family, both physically and morally. If man be the producer and distributer of wealth, woman is certainly the director of consumption. On her rests the responsibility of expending wisely and well the money entrusted to her for the nutrition and clothing of her family, and how can this be adequately fulfilled if she have no real knowledge of the subject beyond what she is able to pick up as she goes along, a method detrimental to all concerned? Little would be thought of any business house which entrusted its most delicate operations to inexperienced buyers, or of any municipality which allowed its affairs to be conducted by an amateur. Far less would be heard of misery, poverty, and ill-health if the art of buying and preparing food, for instance, were properly understood by those whom it most concerns. Again, the chief racial responsibility falls on woman; it is just in the most precious years of childhood that her influence is so potent, and it is the mother, who besides helping to sow all the ethical and spiritual seeds, should safeguard the perfect physical condition of her children, in order that an unimpaired vitality and constitution be handed on from generation to generation. No proverb is truer than "Mens sana in corpore sano"; the two go hand in hand together, and their accomplishment is the proud privilege of the woman. From the family flows the life of the nation, and the power to guide it aright lies largely in the hands of women, whether they be married or single. With the married woman her own family comes first of all, and then through it her duty as a citizen; the unmarried woman's duties as a citizen are manifold, and each year they increase and expand. Nearly all the activities of public life are open to her; for instance she may sit on County Councils, Municipal Councils, District Councils, urban and rural Parish Councils,[8] Boards of Guardians, &c.; in fact in the growing field of social work, her services are being more and more recognised as indispensable, and it is impossible in a few words to enumerate all the possibilities of service which lie before her, both professional and philanthropic. Consequently if a healthy nation is desired, the women of a country must be educated both academically and scientifically. "If women are to be fit wives and mothers they must have all, perhaps more, of the opportunities for personal development that men have. All the activities hitherto reserved to men must be open to them, and many of these activities, certain functions of citizenship, for example, must be expected of them. Moreover, whatever the lines may be along which the fitness of woman to labour will be experimentally determined, the underlying position must be established that, for the sake of the individual and race character, she must be a producer as well as a consumer of social values."[9] Now how is this most desirable end to be attained? The succeeding papers will deal with the subject _in extenso_; here can only be briefly indicated the scope and purpose of the majority. An eminent authority tells us that "the objects of nature may be designated as the objective point of view. It is the standpoint of biology and affords the natural conditions for the successful investigation of the laws of life, not only of the lower organisms but of the human race as well."[10] This immediately demonstrates the vital necessity that women should know something of these fundamental laws of life, which biology alone can teach, in order that she may apply these to her ordinary daily life and recognise them as operating in all her surroundings. The transition from this stage to the next is an easy one. Woman having learnt the laws of life, will immediately view her economic responsibilities with a clearer eye and fuller understanding. It is true that throughout the ages woman has striven to acquit herself as best she could, but until the present day it has mostly been a groping in the dark, without the aid of any exterior agency. Now light is beginning to be thrown on many points hitherto obscure. Household economics has been well said "to rest on two chief cornerstones, the economy of wealth and the economy of health, and encloses the groundwork of human happiness and human aspirations ... even all departments of science must contribute to its development." But a mere knowledge of biology and economics is useless without bodily efficiency, and true bodily efficiency is only possible where the environment is favourable to growth and life. It cannot be expected that full physical development can ever take place in ill-lighted, badly ventilated, defectively drained or otherwise objectionable houses. And it must never for a moment be forgotten that if the body be neglected, then, as an inevitable consequence, the mind and spirit must also become warped. It is not that we desire man to develop his physical nature at the expense of his spiritual, but rather that we would see him placed in such a condition that he is able to apply those great faculties, which distinguish him from the brute creation, to their highest and best use. The ancients recognised in very early times the need of sanitary precautions to protect themselves from the onslaught of disease and the consequent decimation of their race. We find Mena, King of Egypt (5000 B.C.), mentioning in his Ordinances that offences in diet were one of the things through which "the genius of death becomes eager to destroy men." The Levitical Laws contain many enactments of a sanitary character, they are one of the oldest known sanitary codes, and have many wise and necessary provisions for the health of the people. Rules for the conduct of rural life were formulated so far back as 100-500 B.C. in Boeotia. Tarquinus Priscus began and Tarquinus Superbus completed the great works for the drainage of Rome in the fourth and fifth centuries B.C., of which the Cloaca Maxima was the most remarkable feature; even to-day the ancient water-supply of Rome and her system of baths are still a source of admiration to the modern world. And to their credit be it said that the Romans carried this knowledge with them to the countries which they conquered; we find aqueducts at Great Chester and Lanchester, an arterial sewer at Lincoln, and the well-known baths at Bath. From the destruction of Rome until well-nigh ten centuries later was a period in which no advance in sanitation was made; on the contrary, retrogression was the keynote of the time. Warfare, religious segregation, and the spread of asceticism were the chief reasons for this; the ideals of both Christian and Pagan were opposed to personal and public hygiene. "The ascetic violated all laws of personal hygiene, the monastery's ideal was inconsistent with public hygiene, and both glorified God by teaching submission to pestilence,"[11] which from time to time swept over the country, devastating it from end to end. But with the increase of trade it became necessary to adopt certain measures for the preservation of human life, and in 1348 we hear of the first street-cleaning and quarantine in those two great centres of commerce, Venice and Cologne. It was in the same year that the most terrible plague which the world has ever known attacked Britain and practically depopulated it, finding its chief prey in the filthy streets of the City. This led in 1379 to an Order in Common Council for keeping the streets clean. But despite this, all through mediæval times personal health was shamefully neglected and public health practically unknown. The consequences are easy to trace; the country was again and again swept by epidemics which were naturally followed by severe famines, and thus on every side progress was checked. The Fire of London at least cleansed London of its filth, and from that time forward matters began to improve. All through the eighteenth century, smallpox, typhus, scurvy, and ague were rampant, and it is not till 1834 that we find the beginning of sanitary legislation. In 1837 the Act for the Registration of Births and Deaths was passed, which at once provided the indispensable foundation for reliable statistics; previous to that date all that there was to depend upon were the Baptismal Registers and the more or less accurate Bills of Mortality. This has been followed by a long series of Public Health enactments concerned with practically every department of life. In fact during the last fifty years the public conscience has been quickened to an extraordinary degree. Much however has yet to be done which cannot be touched by legislation, and it is to the woman, who has been trained in the right conduct of life both private and public, that the world looks for the preservation of healthy human life, much of which is now needlessly sacrificed on the altar of ignorance. In many cases the woman is the only person who can prevent this, therefore she must equip herself for her high and noble duty with all that Science can provide and Art can suggest, neither must she forget that her own home must ever be the starting-point of every endeavour. For the "Mrs. Jellabies" of this world are not those who help forward its progress, rather are they the clogs on its wheels. Not only charity, but all other virtues begin at home. "So long as the first concern of a nation is for its homes, it matters little what it seeks second or third." FOOTNOTES: [1] Karl Pearson, "The Chances of Death," p. 3. [2] Donaldson, "Woman," p. 58. Longmans & Co. [3] Greenridge, "Roman Public Life," p. 18. Macmillan & Co. [4] Lecky, "History of European Morals," vol. ii. p. 358. [5] Hallam, "History of the Middle Ages." [6] Eckstenstein, "Woman under Monasticism," p. 106. [7] "The Mediæval Education of Women in England," _Journal of Education_, June 1909. [8] It is interesting, however, to note the following Electoral Disabilities for women in England and Wales, which, however, do not exist in Scotland or Ireland:-- No married woman can vote in any Town Council election or in any County Council election outside London. No woman owner has any right, in virtue of her ownership, to vote in any local election. Until 1894 women owners, as such, were entitled to vote in Poor Law Guardian elections, but the Local Government Act of that year disfranchised them, while enlarging the voting rights of men owners. No woman lodger can vote in any local election, although men lodgers can vote in District and Parish Council and Guardian elections, and in the election of the London County and London Borough Councils. For women there is no service franchise--such as entitles men to vote in District and Parish Council and Guardian elections, and in the election of London Borough Councils--_i.e._ no occupation of a dwelling as an official or servant (for example, as matron or caretaker) entitles a woman to be placed on the Register. For neither men nor women is there any ownership franchise, lodger franchise, or service franchise for Town Council elections or for County Council elections outside London. [9] Parsons, "The Family," p. 346. [10] Lester Ward, "Dynamic Sociology," vol. ii, p. 120. D. Appleton and Co., New York. [11] _Sanitary Record and Journal_, Nov. 24, 1904. THE PLACE OF BIOLOGY IN THE EQUIPMENT OF WOMEN BY WENONA HOSKYNS-ABRAHALL, M.A. (DUBLIN) In considering what is the best mental equipment for women in civilised countries it is as well not to contemplate only the great general facts of life, such as wifehood, motherhood, and the woman's position in the household. It is necessary to take into account also the special characteristics and circumstances of our own times and civilisation; for, unless a woman is prepared to meet these successfully, she cannot be deemed adequately equipped, even if from other points of view her education be ideal. In the beautiful old-fashioned education of Japanese women we have an instance of such ideal excellence, which is yet proving unable to cope with the requirements of actual life in modern Japan. The most striking, and also the most radical and pervasive, characteristic of our time is, of course, the progress made in scientific knowledge. Month by month enormous numbers of facts are, in every department, added to the knowledge already acquired. To let one's imagination range, even in a cursory way, over the work that is being done in chemistry and physics merely as they concern biology--to enumerate the subdivisions of these sciences, or to look down a list of recent publications relating to research carried on in them, is enough to make one's brain reel. This ceaseless widening of the borders of knowledge is, we must gladly allow, most inspiriting; and yet, seen from another side, it may well give rise to fears. For it is fairly obvious that the progress of human happiness goes by no means _pari passu_ with this progress of knowledge; and, on looking more closely, we may even observe miseries and degradations which can be traced up directly to the practical application of some of those scientific discoveries. To what must we ascribe this? It would seem to be the outcome of two lines of tendency just now predominant. The first of these is that very strong bent towards mere accumulation of fresh facts which may be noted in the most able and active workers all over the world. Just as, in other times, the best minds have flung themselves with enthusiasm upon art or literature or philosophy or statesmanship or war, so now they fling themselves eagerly upon the discovery of more and more recondite truths in science--leaving the ordinary government of affairs, on the whole, to minds of the second order. The next is the reckless way in which isolated scientific discoveries--more especially in physics and chemistry--are brought to a practical application and introduced into the scheme of everyday human life. This is done without consideration of anything beyond ensuring some obvious superficial convenience, and--what is a principal determinant--the opening up of new financial enterprises. Advantages of a sort no doubt are won--but often only at a fearfully disproportionate cost. The game--if we would but look at it unconventionally, from the standpoint of true biological science--is not worth the candle; for it involves a sacrifice of life itself to what can hardly be considered even as the means of life. Thus the chemicals used to preserve food impair its nutritive qualities; while other chemicals, as well as a number of ingenious mechanical processes, serve to facilitate adulteration. We all know how difficult it is to obtain pure milk and butter, or pure bread from pure flour, or jams made with sugar from fresh and good fruit. Bread may be made from flour which has passed through no less than seven processes,--a sad contrast this to the old home-made bread, the product of home-ground meal, whole and sweet as nature made it. What is sold in enormous quantities to the people as sugar, whether alone or as part of preserves, turns out often to be glucose. Butter, so-called, is often only skilfully-treated fats, the weight helped out by water. These three articles of diet alone, when adulterated as they thus often are, mean serious deterioration in the food--and therefore in the physique--of the nation; and to them we have yet to add the effect of the chemicals used for keeping fish and meat in place of the genuine, old-fashioned pickling, salting, and smoking. Machinery, again, growing ever more and more complicated, has destroyed an incalculable wealth of traditional activity: and therewith, generation by generation, it tends to destroy the finest capacities of individual men and women, whether producers or consumers of the finished product. The consumers suffer through the lack of opportunity to acquire and exercise manual dexterity and resourcefulness--as well as through a great lack of experimental knowledge. The producers suffer through the monotony and narrowness of their labour. We may take as other instances of recklessness our common use of unprotected illuminants--electric light and incandescent gas-mantles--which give off ultra-violet rays injurious to the eyes; the use of portable electric lamps and switch lampholders, which is by no means free from risk; and again the extreme recklessness of the so-called "medical electrician," who will actually venture to give electrical massage to a patient immediately after wet pack.[12] As a last example we may take the rage for speed, and in particular the use of electrically driven motor-cars. The exact effects upon the human frame of the rapid motion, of the vibrations, of the presence of the electric current and escaping gas have never been adequately investigated--though sundry ill consequences of motor-driving have been noted without any diminution of the practice. A very cursory reflection may show us that, while the progress of science is the great characteristic fact of modern life to which we all have to adjust ourselves, we must be prepared not only to take advantage of the good it offers, but also to discern and counteract the perils it brings with it, when applied to human life in our present somewhat random way. The random nature of our proceedings may be illustrated from yet another side. There are a number of facts and principles, long since agreed upon as truly ascertained, which have never, or only very partially, been brought to bear upon custom and daily life. We all know that plenty of fresh air is a first condition of health and vigour; and are so far convinced of this verity that open-air treatment is generally accepted as the proper mode of attacking and mastering consumption. Yet we crowd together into cities: our houses are often very imperfectly ventilated, and our public buildings--churches, theatres, halls, schools and institutions, as well as our railway-carriages and tram-cars--provide only for the very minimum of change of air. Similar neglect of definitely ascertained facts may be seen in dress, in food and drink, in furniture, in occupations. Noise is well known to be injurious to the brain, and destructive to thought: more than that, it has been discovered that it is harmful to the viscera. We insist, more or less, upon quiet for the sick: but no trouble is taken about quiet for those who are well. Our thoroughfares echo with noises of all kinds, from the roar of traffic to the howling and whistling of errand-boys; and the authorities would be much surprised if they were accounted specially negligent for not making some effort to suppress them. Yet to any biologically trained person this noise must appear not disagreeable merely, but a real handicap to the health and energy of the community. Wherever faithfulness to scientific principle involves trouble without prospect of money-making, it is likely to be shirked, however great the benefits known to come from it. This is not entirely due to laziness, nor yet to ignorance, it is due quite as much to circumstance and to the pressure of our present social institutions. It is closely bound up with the great social question of the ownership of land, and with the husbandry and use of the resources of the land, our rivers and our sea-shore. Wasting a great measure of what these have to give us, polluting them in different ways by our manufactures and by the refuse of our cities, we are constraining whole masses of our population to look to the work and the products of other countries for the first necessities of life. Whole masses of our population are removed from direct contact with the soil, which is the nursing-mother not only of the body, but also of the mind of man; the people and the land being thus alike impoverished. Inquiring how so dangerous an error can have arisen, we may find at least part of its cause to lie in an ignorance of the fundamental principles of biology, the science of life. What, it may now be asked, is to be done to counteract these disadvantages and dangers? And, again, how does all this bear on the equipment of women? Taking the latter question first: it is indisputable that an enormous proportion of our commerce and manufactures is concerned with food and with articles required for the home. But things for the home are made to be dealt with and used by women. In so far as science comes in and modifies this material it is imperative that women should be placed in a position, not only to know what are the essentials for life, but also to criticise and estimate accurately that which is offered to them as scientific improvement. For we need, in this connection also, to remember that science can only be fought by science--that is, by knowledge belonging to the same plane. We have now in part answered our former question. What we need is a central or basal science to which--for practical purposes and in regard to its practical application--the work done in other sciences can be brought to be accepted, or rejected, or modified. This central science can, in the very nature of things, be none other than biology: the science, that is, which gives an account of the functions and inter-relations and structure of all living things, and deduces therefrom those principles which, in a rather loose way, we speak of as the laws of life. It would, we think, be a very happy turn of affairs if, not all, but some of that genius, which is now spending itself in the research for fresh facts, could be diverted to the work of correlating with one another facts already known, and bringing all those that are appropriate to be grouped as it were in order of service around biology. But perhaps not less important than this is what we may call the practical synthetic work of women in their households. There are, indeed, two circumstances which would give the ordinary woman of average intelligence, if she were but adequately instructed, some advantage, so far as the service of mankind goes, over even the most brilliant man of genius. The first is the vantage-ground of her position in the home--at the very point, that is, where so many sciences thrust themselves up together to the surface of actual life--where in some way or other, however roughly, they have to be correlated, compared, their different claims adjusted. The second is the natural inclination of the womanly mind towards synthesis rather than analysis, towards practice rather than theory. We ought now to consider rather closely--exhaustively we cannot--what is included under the term Biology. It stood for some time chiefly to mean an account of the structures of animals and plants, structure being pursued into ever further minuteness, down to the cell and the constituents and parts of the cell. With this has gone insistent inquiry into the process of reproduction and growth; and more lately, in bio-chemistry and bio-physics, the conformity of living substance to the order recognised in non-living matter has been, and is being, most eagerly investigated. And now a school of biologists is arising whose aim is the vindication of the claims of function as against the too exclusive study of structure. Function, of course, involves activity; and activity, in a complex, multicellular organism, involves the interplay of parts. This interplay, again, cannot be studied without reference to the environment, and to the relations between the organism in question and others--whether of its own or of other species. In this way it seems likely that biology--moving as it were in a spiral--will by-and-by return, though at a much higher level, to the standpoint of the older naturalists, whose interest in plants and animals was focussed more upon their activities, habits of life and special environment than upon their morphology--and even disdained not to consider their possible uses for man. Also, more thoroughly and extensively than before, the study of man himself is being caught up into the great web of Biology. It is seen as an integral part of Biology, and pursued in the biological spirit. Whether we look to psychology on the one hand, or to anthropology and its associated sciences on the other, the present is a most propitious moment for drawing public attention to this vast science, as being the true centre and foundation of that practical knowledge which is needed as a guide, and also as a stimulus, for practical everyday life. It will, of course, be instantly objected that the subject is indeed vast--much too vast. But not too vast, surely, if, by means of a very simple principle, we select out what is of immediate definite use, and necessary for everybody, from what may be, by the majority, safely left on one side. We shall then get, on this side, the highly specialised Biology of the laboratory with its minute researches and nicely calculated experiments, and, on that, what we may, for our present purpose, call Common-sense Biology. Just one word of explanation is perhaps needed at the outset. Common-sense Biology does not mean anything like that slipshod dealing with miscellaneous phenomena of nature which sometimes goes by the name of Nature Study. It is a course of work systematic and strictly scientific, conducted as truly as any other in the scientific spirit. It presents, however, two points of contrast with special or analytical Biology, in that, whereas, in analytical Biology, a beginning may be made practically anywhere, with any series of facts one may prefer to take first, in Common-sense Biology there is only one right mode of starting, and that of the utmost importance; while, secondly, Common-sense Biology combines some of the characteristics of an art with the ordinary characteristics of a science. COMMON-SENSE BIOLOGY It is this latter form of the science--this science, which is also an art--that we would advocate as essential for the equipment of women. With this view let us examine it further. And first, what is its proper starting-point? Its proper starting-point is accurate instruction concerning the living things with which the student is, or can easily be, brought into immediate practical contact. And, again, in the study of these living things--plants and animals alike--attention is directed first towards the organism in its totality and in its activities--towards function rather than towards structure; and also towards mode of life, relations with environment, and, where possible, towards its use or danger to mankind. Structure will, no doubt, early have to be introduced, but only in its larger details as explanatory of function, for the sake of a better knowledge of the animal or plant as a whole. What are to be the types and examples of organisms studied? This is an important question, and the writer would most strongly urge that the principle of selection should be that of locality; that the student should start with those plants and animals--both wild and domestic--which are to be found within a given radius of the place where she is living and working. The first things to know about are habit, activity, inter-relation and use to human beings. In respect to these, the presence of one organism will react upon others, and therefore no plant or animal within the area should be lightly overlooked. THE IMPORTANCE OF BACTERIOLOGY We must not, however, confine attention to the higher multicellular animals and plants. One of the most important factors in the environment is the existence of bacteria; and it is of great importance that an outline of bacteriology should be included in our course of Common-sense Biology. This outline should be kept close to the common necessities of everyday life. For the sake of making clear and real to the mind the manner in which bacteria multiply and the extreme rapidity of the process, a certain amount of microscopical work ought to be done, the examples being few, but carefully chosen. This kind of work, nevertheless, should be kept subordinate. The effects wrought by bacteria in water, earth and air, in stored foodstuffs, and in the tissues of the living body are the important subjects for study; and naturally, connected with these, the conditions which permit the access of bacteria or which, in the case of noxious bacteria, will best ensure protection. The rationale of toxins and anti-toxins, with the relations of these to the blood-serum should also, in a general way, be known; and moreover the student should be prepared to learn that many diseases, which are at present very imperfectly understood--we may take, for instance, forms of insanity--have their _vera causa_ in the action of toxins, and require to be treated accordingly. Perhaps, for those who cannot take more than the shorter courses of our Common-sense Biology, it will be sufficient to consider only those forms of inimical bacteria which we have to combat in our own islands. But the writer would strongly urge that, at least among women of the leisured classes, this instruction should be extended to cover the bacterial and other minute parasitic forms of disease most prevalent in our colonies and in our foreign possessions. The wives of officers, civil servants and missionaries ought to know, in a clear, scientific way, the causes, modes of attack, and methods of prevention of the principal tropical diseases, so far as these have at present been made out. METHOD OF STUDY What should be the method of this study? The sketching out of a course would be far beyond the scope of this paper. Here it may only be said that the work must, of necessity, fall into two main parts. There must be, on the one hand, field-naturalist's work, for the greater proportion of the animals and plants studied ought--so far as is in any way practicable--to be observed in their natural surroundings; and there must be, on the other hand, work allied to that of the gardener and farmer, the rearing of selected plants and animals for purposes of experiment and of closer examination. Nothing worth mentioning can be done on either of these lines without some study of the food and climatic conditions required by each creature; and this will involve a study of soils, temperature, atmosphere, and so on--and also a study of the nutrient properties of those organisms which furnish forth the food of other organisms. From this knowledge, gained thus through direct observation and experiment, would be deduced the general principles which--so to express it--govern life; and upon it as foundation would be reared the more specialised knowledge of all that pertains strictly to the life of mankind. Throughout the aim should be to use books mainly for reference. It is not necessary--as it might have been a few years ago--to show that a training on these lines is better, as a preparation for life, than that offered by the ordinary school and university curriculum; but it may be worth while to show how far and why it is superior to a well-planned course in the analytical biology of the laboratory. The superiority is surely twofold: in that the kind of knowledge acquired is of greater practical utility; and, again, in that the development which it ensures, to the powers, bodily and mental of the student, is more varied, thorough, and effective. COMMON-SENSE BIOLOGY AS AN ART As has been said, this Common-sense Biology partakes of the nature of an art. Now it is characteristic of any art that, for its satisfactory exercise, it demands not only knowledge, but also intuition;--not only conscious volition, reflection, and endeavour, but also subconscious nervous and muscular activity, and, together with that, a certain emotional state--a trend, tendency, disposition of the whole being, which likewise is chiefly subconscious. Without such a disposition to begin with you cannot have an artist. Neither will you get an artist, if, on the other hand, this disposition is never given an opportunity for displaying itself and developing its capacities. You cannot play an instrument properly if you have no music in you, and the music in you will never come forth if you have no instrument to play upon. When disposition and opportunity are happily met, and the true artist arises, it is in the subconscious that the chief riches, gained by her work and experience, are stored, and from the subconscious that she draws her skill; while in the subconscious, again, lie the mysterious sources of original inspiration. We all know well how over-consciousness spoils art, as it spoils most kinds of action. The happiest effects, the loveliest deeds spring, as it were, spontaneously. What is true of such arts as music and poetry is at least equally true of the art of living. The rich and well-harmonised subconsciousness is the proximate source whence all that is strongest and most beautiful in human activity is derived. The domestic arts, conversation, power of rapid judgment at a crisis, the care of the sick, the care of children, tactful daily dealing with one's fellows, all these, and so much else, we recognise to be dependent for perfection upon practice; and that is only another way of saying that they depend on the efficiency and the character of the subconscious. But the character and efficiency of each person's subconscious being depend in their turn--not solely, yet principally--first, upon the knowledge she has acquired, and secondly, upon the actions she has habitually performed. Action and being, as we all know full well, are for ever acting and reacting upon one another. Action is a more potent influence upon the subconscious even than knowledge; and when to mere activity there is added emotion--such emotion, for instance, as pleasure or love, or solicitude, or desire for truth--we may feel assured we have brought into play the most powerful of all the forces which, in an ordinary way, go to vivify and to form human character. The subconscious is even more important for women than for men, because women have more calls upon their emotions, and more need for intuition, and also more need for general resourcefulness and skill. It is because the Common-sense Biology whose claims we are urging involves so much activity, such care, quickness of observation, patience and ready wit, that it makes a better preparation for life than the more highly specialized work in the Biology of the laboratory alone could be. THE GAINS AND LOSSES OF CIVILISATION Is there, it may now be asked, anywhere any definite evidence to bear out this contention. There is: and in abundance. For it, however, we must look away from civilised communities, especially from the educated portion of their populations. Civilisation, no doubt, gives much; but it also takes much away. It has taken away much of the traditional lore of women, and more and more of their traditional activities. This does not merely mean that the practical ability and knowledge of civilised women is greatly restricted; it means also that the peculiar intuitive wisdom of women--the fruit of a richly-stored subconsciousness--is much diminished. In capacity for pure thought the educated woman of civilised communities no doubt excels all the rest: in most other respects the barbarian or savage woman will--with some few exceptions--probably be found her superior, whether judged merely by her mastery of the conditions amid which she has to work, or, more broadly, by the amount of her real knowledge and the range of her effective capacities. Take, as an example, the Eskimo woman, who is considered to represent the woman of palæolithic times. As there is no Eskimo Board of Education--no paraphernalia of Primary, Secondary, Technical, and other Schools, with their red tape and officialism--she is free to carry on the tradition of her ancestresses, and to rear, in the good old ways, children who grow up to be sturdy men and women. The preparation she had for her task was chiefly that of watching and imitating her own mother. Thus, as a child, she followed all the processes of turning the dead reindeer to account--learning thereby an economy and an unwillingness to waste which were essentially scientific--learning, too, subconsciously. She saw the flesh of the reindeer made into pemmican--cut into thin slices, and dried in the sun or in the smoke of a slow fire, then pounded between stones (the use of stones is worth noticing) and stored under a cover of melted fat, poured over it in due proportion. She saw the bones--after the marrow had been extracted from them--pounded down and boiled to get out the residual fat; the horns set aside to make fish-hooks, chisels, needles, and fishing-spears, work for the long winter evenings; the skin carefully dressed with a split bone and cut into shape to make clothing, and snow-shoes, thongs, bow-strings, fishing-nets, and so on. The very tendons make threads for sewing: and the garments thus fashioned are not only strong and serviceable, but beautiful with that particular beauty, which may perhaps be called barbaric, but which almost invariably denotes vigour and fulness of subconscious life. The Eskimo women also make their own boats and their own tools; they are good fishers and hunters. Their year's work comprises an exercise of dexterity and quick wit of which the ordinary Englishwoman can have no idea. We might take as another example the North American Indian woman, with her varied forest-lore; but, since space is limited, let us pass for one further illustration to the despised Australian aboriginal. She too knows and does things worthy of our admiration and imitation. For instance the English housewife's preparation of the household food is nothing like so conscientious as the Australian's, whose proceedings have the keen disinterested concentration proper to a bit of scientific research. Thus, to take but one example of the processes connected with the preparation of one form of food--a seed of a species of eucalyptus: "With a hooked stick she pulls down the terminal branches of the tree and spreads them out to dry on a piece of ground cleared for the purpose. After allowing them to lie there for a period determined by temperature, she collects the distal ends of the branches, damps them and brushes the seeds off into water. For a period of two or more hours these seeds are kept soaking, but the water is repeatedly changed, so as to remove all traces of the 'gum.' After this they are dried and ground on a stone. Again, she builds their rough, but wisely devised home most carefully according to ancient tradition. She takes her little girl, armed with a miniature digging-stick, out to track the honey-ant with her, and to learn by the way what are the birds and beasts and plants, friendly or inimical, which surround their home-camp." Alongside of this direct learning about nature goes the learning of the legends and traditions of the tribe, together with the customary dances, rituals, and religious practices. The activity of savage life is everywhere such that no anomalies like our physical exercises are needed,--for the physique of the young men and women is as graceful, strong, and enduring as need be. If we turn to savage or barbarian peoples higher in the scale we shall find their knowledge, abilities, and accomplishments higher and also more varied. But, on the whole, until we come to the average modern woman of a civilised community, we shall find that the women--through their happily developed subconsciousness--are equal to the best the community requires of them. They do not call their training Common-sense Biology, but that is what it practically is. They know all about their surroundings, and what to do therein. And grace and beauty wait upon what they do. This ideal is not, however, quite without parallel among the more highly civilised peoples. The Greeks conceived of Athene, the great goddess of wisdom and of war, as also Athene Ergane, the Workwoman, the goddess of handicrafts in the home. In our own country--to take examples near to us and familiar--the names of Caroline Herschel, Jane Austen, the Brontës, Mary Somerville, and George Eliot not only attest the fact that exquisite skill in domestic arts is not, in a woman, incompatible with learning and genius, but may also lead us to suspect that the exercise of this skill actually aided and furthered their better-known achievements. In our civilised communities--from the point of view of the subconscious--women are in two ways at a disadvantage. First, excessive division of labour, with our dependence upon machinery, has made the life of the State far more complicated than in former days; and secondly, the activity of the individual, from the same causes, is far more monotonous, far less well-calculated to bring out all her powers and train her being as a whole, than it used to be. Hence, as we said, women have lost a good deal subconsciously--even though, in consciousness, they may have gained. There is nothing in which the character of the subconscious is more clearly seen than in a person's attitude towards the great mysteries of life: towards birth and marriage and death on the one hand--towards religion on the other. It is, of course, matter of common knowledge that in regard to marriage the customs of some savage tribes are what we should describe as licentious. A truer understanding of the savage mind has, however, mitigated many of the judgments passed even upon the worst of these practices--at least in so far as they were taken to indicate gross inward depravity on the part of the women. And among many peoples there are found laws and customs of real beauty and noble significance, witnessing to reverence, fine intuition, and real care for the highest good of the tribe. And in general of all savage races it may be said that whatever their laws and customs are--though perhaps born of ignorance and selfishness--they feel seriously about them as about sacred things, and observe them scrupulously. The better side is exemplified chiefly by the women. When anthropological work is more largely undertaken by women, and when, through their sympathy, the jealously guarded secrets of the women's tradition, now almost entirely unknown, are yielded up to us, it is probable that our conceptions of savage life and thought will have to be radically modified. However that may be, it is even now sufficiently well known that the women do not leave the question of reproduction and marriage to chance in the education of their girls. The girls are definitely, carefully, and it would seem often tenderly, taught; and if, among some peoples, they are made to undergo great sufferings, a closer study usually reveals in these the effects of the long subjection of the women to the cruelty and uncontrolled passions of the men. All this should not blind us to the fact that the maternal instinct is here actively grappling with the great realities of life: and we may contrast this with the ways of the modern woman who, less developed in subconsciousness, is not so forcibly impelled to make any such attempt, and, for the most part, practically lets the whole thing slide. Here, as in other directions, the fuller development of the subconscious would compel and also enable us to correct a grave omission: while the knowledge necessarily acquired concerning reproduction and birth in the course of biological work would fill up that which has hitherto often been wanting even in the best-inspired women who have dealt with this question. It must by now have been made clear that our object in advocating this Common-sense Biology is to recover what was excellent in the equipment of the women of the past, and to unite it with what is most excellent, and most germane to woman's life, in the methods and knowledge of the present. Since modern household life is deficient in the requisite opportunities we are obliged to have recourse to definite educational schemes. But education of this sort will assuredly continue to be necessary even after many improvements in the home have been brought to pass; because it will always be necessary to keep the knowledge and activities of women in correspondence with the advance of science. At the same time it is worth while to remember that the earlier the child begins to observe living things, to live with them, learn about them, and take care of them, the better the final result will be; while the ideally trained mother in the ideal home, herself practical and active, will be able to do more for her children in this regard than most people, perhaps, would now dream of. THE INFLUENCE OF COMMON-SENSE BIOLOGICAL TRAINING ON SOCIAL WORK Biological training of the order we have been considering is, we believe, desirable for all women in the interests, first, of the home and of the rearing of children. But it is equally desirable for the women who are not destined to be wives and mothers, and particularly so as a foundation for any kind of university work, even for the different literary or philosophical schools. Here it is, perhaps, worth while to urge upon women the claims of the other great division of Biology, that of the laboratory. A considerable number of women who go up to the universities have, indeed, intellectual abilities deserving special cultivation, yet abilities which show no very distinct inclination in any one direction. These have been very commonly drafted into the study of history. It may be questioned whether some branch of Biology would not be better for them, and more useful to the community. Women working at Biology in the universities ought to serve, and to aim at serving, as the channels by which each fresh addition of scientific knowledge finds its way to, and its appropriate place in, the schemes of Common-sense Biology generally obtaining. In another field--the field of public work--it is to be hoped that ere long a knowledge of biology will come to be considered a _sine quâ non_ for women. It would be superfluous to point out in how many kinds of public work women are gradually coming to the fore--in those especially which deal with education and with the care of the disabled. Already the influence and the peculiar gifts of women have in some degree made themselves felt; but these might operate much more powerfully if they were more commonly associated with scientific knowledge--with a knowledge of those branches of biology, more especially of bio-chemistry and bio-physics, which bear most nearly upon humanity. It would take up too much space to give an account of the many ways in which biology is here of service: two great lines of utility may just be indicated as examples. First, biology would lead to certain modifications of practice--particularly in our treatment of children, and of persons deemed criminal or insane. The biologist, when anything was amiss--before she pronounced any one to be mentally or morally unsound, defective, or bad--would presume, to start with, that there was some definite physical trouble to be set right, not necessarily anything dangerous in itself or mysterious. In New York they now make it a rule to examine for adenoids every young offender against the law, before punishing him; and it is amazing how often adenoids are found, and when removed carry the child's wickedness away with them. Adenoids and divers glands are responsible for a great proportion of youthful wrongdoing; and yet other physical troubles will account for a great proportion of the rest. The writer herself once came across a young girl who was, in intention and attempt, a murderess--yet was so only through the effect of a common physical condition, easy enough to treat when once ascertained. Until our general conception of a child--or indeed of a human being--is a more truly biological one, framed more closely upon the facts of its bodily life, we shall have but little effective intuition into its state. And such a sound biological conception is not to be had apart from some good measure of sound biological knowledge. When, however, the most careful observation reveals no local or definite mischief to be dealt with in the person under consideration, the biologist will still not hastily set him down as bad--or even as unsound or defective. He will next suspect that he is one whose physical organisation is not fitted for its environment: if he can be placed in a better environment perhaps he will grow better. If this change is, from whatever circumstances, impossible, the biologist in treating him, however troublesome he may be, will still never regard him as wholly responsible for what he is, will still try to ascertain the exact ways in which the environment presses injuriously upon him, and to help him in those definite particulars. If we desire the work of our reformatories and prisons and the disciplinary work of our schools really to be and not merely to appear effective, it is only by such nicely-calculated methods that we shall attain our object. This brings us to our second point. Biology, when a knowledge of it is more widely spread among us, will assuredly work a change in public opinion. We have among us thousands of men and women whom we account failures in life; whose existence constitutes our gravest social problem. The drunkard, the wastrel, the thief, the prostitute--these are characters whom society thrusts out. They have proved themselves unfitted for their environment; they cannot act in it with any regularity or seemliness: its laws are not their laws. And the assumption most generally is that these are beings of a lower stamp than the average, unhappily surviving in, or at war with, an environment which postulates a nobler sort of men and women. Is it so? The finer and more delicately poised a mechanism--whether it be chemical balance, galvanometer, electroscope or what not--the more sensitive is it to its surroundings. Thus the instruments once at Kew Observatory have had to be transferred to the wilds of Scotland to ensure their perfect working--rendered impossible at Kew by the noise and vibrations of encroaching London. Thus, again, the mind of Darwin required for its proper functioning the quiet of a study at Down, in the heart of the country. A ray of light will spoil a delicate experiment: the presence in an observatory of one steel key will hinder the work of the instruments. A boy commits suicide because of the noise of the factory in which he is compelled to work. A girl drowns herself because the worries of her home are intolerable. The point I would press is that these different examples belong fundamentally to the same category. Whether it be the instrument devised by man, or whether it be the human nervous system itself, that which we are looking at is a mechanism too delicate for the cruel exigencies of an unyielding gross environment. We have but to reflect on one organ alone--on the exceeding fineness of structure, and nicety of adjustment, and definiteness of sense-limit, of the eye--in order to realise that the comparison between the human nervous system and the most delicate of our delicate instruments is more than justifiable. How do we know, when dealing with any given drunkard, that we have not before us a fine, fine nature, to which the harsh and low conditions of our Western civilisation have simply proved intolerable? How do we know that, instead of blaming him and trying to adjust him to the world, we ought not rather to blame the world, and try to make it a fit place for him to live in? This consideration--strictly scientific as it is--ought to have very great weight in that new department of biological work which has been named Eugenics. Before lightly saying of any stock that it is not good to breed from, or that it is good to breed from, pains should surely be taken to ascertain whether irregularities and disease evinced by members of that stock do not in reality proceed from their superiority to their environment and to the average men and women about them. Individually they may be irreclaimable, yet, thrown out of gear, miserable and wasted as they are, they may be the carriers of the finest hopes of humanity, of a promise for the fulfilment of which we are not yet ready. Perhaps there is a tendency to be a little over-hasty in our estimates of good and bad stocks to breed from. Perhaps we have not yet fully learnt either the significance of recessive characters or the importance of the mere fact that the unit-characters of a human being are immensely numerous, and their inter-relations therefore extremely intricate. And yet, again, perhaps we are too intolerant of variety, too eager for uniformity. Here in England we have a mixed population, sprung from many diverse origins. The differences between individuals are many and great. Yet the majority of the population is thrust into the grooves of one educational system, and thereafter compelled to settle down to occupations and modes of life which are the same for thousands together. Any attempt to leave the common rut is looked at askance. What wonder that there are rebels, and that the rebels are unhappy! A society constructed in conformity to true biological principles, instead of suppressing variety would give it welcome as one of the most precious of national characteristics, and would purposely adjust itself and its systems with more accuracy so as to give every sort and type of person the best possible chance for developing his or her peculiar gifts. In a society so constituted, very rare indeed would be the occurrence of insanity. These considerations should have weight in yet another direction: in determining the counsel which ought to be given to girls as to the choice of a mate. The importance of soundness of stock has here too been well brought into prominence by the workers in Eugenics; and perhaps it may not be amiss to make one or two suggestions with a view to obviating a too narrow application of the principle of the sound stock. We must remember, first, that disease is not necessarily evidence of unsoundness. Like some forms of moral obliquity, it may be merely evidence of a quality in the stock which renders it unable to tolerate a given environment. And this quality may be in itself an excellence of the most precious kind. This would be the true account of many cases of insanity, while others would be covered by the action of toxins on the brain. Heredity, we are told in many instances of "insanity," is more probably a heredity of "special liability to the production of toxins or to the action of toxins on the brain," than heredity of insanity proper. This view will naturally entail modifications in our methods of treating the "insane," as well as a considerable change in public opinion with regard to the significance of insanity. And, secondly, we must remember the importance of the environment, more especially of the human part of it. A man of sound stock is very commonly brought up as a sportsman, whose first idea is to kill; or as an idler, whose chief occupations are eating, drinking, and smoking, with travel and some amount of gambling thrown in by way of variety. Or he may easily be above all things a money-maker and a lover of money. His habits of this sort will determine to a very great extent the early--and that is the critical--environment of his children. The tendency in his family will be towards uniformity, towards one level, and that not a high level, of thought, activity, and character. His example and influence will go very far to counteract the advantages presumably ensured by the soundness of his stock. On the other hand, a man whose ancestry is eugenically not flawless may have such wide interests, so many and such fine powers, so much skill in different activities, and so high and generous a personal ideal, that the environment which his manner of life would make for his children--the inspiration he would be to them--might well be expected very largely, if not wholly, to counteract the disadvantages of defects in the stock. No doubt this principle should be applied with all reasonableness and care, but it is extremely important for the highest welfare, for the development of the best possibilities of the people, that it should be definitely recognised. ANTHROPOLOGY A BRANCH OF BIOLOGY A word must here be said as to the importance--more especially to the biological student who aims at social work--of some knowledge of Anthropology. Biology is, in fact, incomplete without anthropology; for in its absence there is a danger of applying biological principles too summarily, and therefore unscientifically, to humanity. Anthropology, of course, goes behind art and history and the literary ideas current among civilised peoples. It gives life and meaning to customs, legends, handicrafts, details of dress, ornament, and furniture which otherwise go unheeded or misunderstood. It helps to interpret for us the ways of contemporary peoples and classes which are on a level different from our own. It gives a unity in infinite diversity to our whole conception of humanity. When more widely studied, there can be little doubt that it will cause us to reconstruct many of our judgments, both concerning the history of the past and concerning the civilisations of the present day. We cannot but believe that a time will come when it will be assumed of all women that they know the broad truths of biology, just as it is now assumed that they know the alphabet. It will be taken for granted that they have mastered the essential domestic arts with their own hands, just as we now take for granted they can write with their own hands. We shall have reached then the beginning of a new era--an era which we may hope will unite the excellences, moral, æsthetic, and hygienic, of earlier times, with the excellences, more purely intellectual and scientific, of our own day. WOMAN'S SYNTHETIC POWERS AS AN INSTRUMENT TO EFFICIENCY The most effective instruments for bringing this about are the synthetic powers of woman herself, combined with her practical skill and her ready intuition. As we have tried to show, the best chance for the eliciting and the disciplining of these powers of hers, so as best to fit them for the struggle of modern life, is afforded by biology. It must be clear how many reforms--impossible to the nominally educated women of the present day--would flow easily from this better training of women; for those so trained could certainly not endure the futility of some of our educational ideals, nor that haphazard disregard of the nature and needs of the child, which still characterises so much of our educational method. They could not support the continuance of many of the common evils of modern life--the noise and dirt, the brutality of manners, the scamping of work, the rush for pleasure. These, however they may or may not affect the adult, are plainly impairing the best promise of the children; and that fact will be enough for the truly educated woman. Knowing, too, as she will, more accurately and scientifically than women to-day generally know, how largely energy and depression, irritability and calm strength are questions of right or wrong food, the educated woman may be trusted to find a means to put an end to the crying iniquity of adulteration. Directly or indirectly, by the pressure of her determination that the race shall no longer be offered a sacrifice to Mammon, she will assuredly find a way to put an end to all not absolutely necessary dangerous trades. The opposition of such women to what is wrong in social custom, in government, in education, will be a very different thing from the opposition of well-meaning but imperfectly instructed women on the one hand; or, on the other, that of a few thoroughly trained and informed ones working more or less in isolation, scattered over the country. It would mean a body of sound, enlightened, disinterested public opinion, so vast, so far-reaching, yet so intimately cognisant of all the little daily details of life in the home, that it is difficult to see what other body of opinion could be found mighty enough to resist it. If, unhappily, this advance should not be made--if our present Western civilisation be allowed to run unchecked down the groove into which it has sunk--there seems nothing before it but destruction. FOOTNOTES: [12] "The Electrical Resistance of the Human Body." Gee and Brotherton, Manchester Lit. and Phil. Soc., 1910. SCIENCE IN THE HOUSEHOLD BY MRS. W. N. SHAW The slow development of the demand for the training of girls of the middle and upper classes in the details of household management has been to a great extent due to the common observation that persons of imperfect education are frequently proficient in the domestic arts, and to the assumption that good housekeeping consists entirely in the efficient exercise of those arts. The fact that in the early Victorian period girls living much at home learned, almost insensibly, from their mothers the routine of daily duties in the house, has made elder women look askance on the lectures dealing with domestic economy which appear to them so needless, and has led them to foster the superstition that woman _qua_ woman should be equal to any demand that may be made upon her as organiser of her own household. That the housekeeping of to-day is more complex than that of half a century ago is incredible to the older woman who remembers the baking and brewing, and divers other matters, that demanded the attention of the notable housewives of the forties and fifties of the nineteenth century. That the horizon of women's lives has widened, and that other interests than those appertaining to their immediate circle claim their attention, is not acceptable to all; it is however the claims of these outside interests that have awakened in the more thoughtful the desire so to order their households that they may in some degree free themselves from petty cares, and be able to help in the amelioration of the lives of less fortunate persons; or to pursue other branches of knowledge in which they have learned to take a keen intellectual pleasure. It is a paradox that one of the difficulties with which the modern mistress has to contend is the fact that her house is "replete with every modern convenience." Every labour-saving contrivance, every mechanical convenience, calls for vigilance to ensure its proper use, and for knowledge as to the ways in which it may fail, and of the method of readjustment if it should happen to do so. No apparatus which is not thoroughly understood by the mistress will be well used by the servants, and servants will rarely if ever exercise any knowledge they possess to prevent the expense of calling in a workman. If the mistress of a house can use such ordinary tools as a hammer, a screwdriver, a gluepot, and a soldering-iron, a great deal of expense may be saved in small repairs; on the other hand, ignorant meddling with scientific apparatus may be worse than useless. There can be no doubt that a course of instruction in natural philosophy, combined with work in a well-equipped laboratory and workshop, should find a place in the curriculum of every girls' school, whether elementary or secondary, as this training lays the surest foundation for a superstructure of experimental domestic science. The argument against including the application of the physical sciences to domestic methods in the ordinary educational course of every girl, namely, that she may not be called upon to keep a house of her own, cannot be sustained; there are no circumstances in which knowledge of the laws which govern the health and well-being of human beings can be useless. We all live in houses, either our own or other people's, and we are all liable to disease and discomfort caused by the faulty construction of the house or the unhealthy practices of the inmates. THE AIM AND METHODS OF MODERN EDUCATION The aim of education is to enable a person to act wisely in every emergency of life whatever his particular calling may be, but it is hardly possible to act wisely without some knowledge of the relation between cause and effect. This is true whether we are engaged in the practical affairs of life, in the pursuit of knowledge, or in the effort to extend knowledge by research. It is sometimes argued that a woman of trained intellect can easily acquire the art of housekeeping, and this is no doubt the case if we limit the art to the choice and supervision of competent domestics, but there can be no doubt that there are many women of trained intellect who not only suffer themselves but entail suffering on others from inability to discern good housekeeping, in our sense of the word, from bad. It must be remembered that courses of education should be framed for the training of unmethodical and unpractical minds, which may and often do accompany the highest forms of intellect, as well as for those of a naturally orderly and practical bent. We all consciously or unconsciously make use of the facts of science: we do not send eggs by parcel post merely placed in a box, we do not even send one egg in a box that exactly fits it, we are careful to surround each egg with soft paper or some other elastic material in sufficient quantity to distribute the effects of the blows that we know the box will be subjected to in the post, so that the eggs may not be broken; if we place a tray of china on a table, we are careful that it should not project beyond the table so as to fall when we let it go; we do not pour hot water into cut-glass tumblers, and we do not mix effervescing drinks in wine-glasses. We should call a person ignorant who was unaware of the probable results of doing the things enumerated above; but if the accidents following want of knowledge were always so simple, ignorance would not be a matter of much importance, and we might be willing to let our girls learn by experience. Unfortunately, the neglect of a scientific law has led in the past, and may lead in the future, to much more serious, even fatal results, and Solomon has applied a not very complimentary epithet to those who have wisdom forced upon them by involuntary experience. It is to the publication of statistics which show the alarming spread of such diseases as consumption and the terrible waste of infant life, that we owe the awakening of the public mind to the need for systematic training in science and scientific method. THE VALUE OF A SCIENTIFIC TRAINING Scientific method seeks to establish relations between isolated facts or phenomena, and the relation generally takes the form of cause and effect; so that persons with a scientific training are accustomed to examine the grounds for considering this relation of cause and effect in circumstances which are selected with a view to exhibiting the reality of the relation. From that training it becomes possible for them, when confronted with circumstances presenting some difficulty, to form a better opinion as to what is the cause of the difficulty than they could if they were confronted with the same difficulty without the previous training. Any attentive observer of human nature will be struck by the fact that every person is accustomed to refer every event to some cause; if it is an illness, the occasion for contracting the illness is defined; if it is any unforeseen event in the domestic economy, a reason is nearly always forthcoming; the question which the housewife is called upon to decide is whether the reason offered is a real and sufficient one. Meteorologists tell a familiar story of an Indian nabob who found that there was a deposit of moisture on the outside of his tumbler of brandy and water, and tasting it with his finger, remarked it was very curious that the water came through the glass but the brandy did not. Plenty of reasons offered for domestic incidents have no better ground of fact than the nabob's opinion that the water came through the glass. A good deal of the comfort of a modern house turns upon a right judgment as regards cause and effect, and therefore some preparation which will fit the housewife to appreciate the rights and wrongs of domestic reasoning is an indispensable qualification for success. It is not always possible for the most profound student to offer offhand the true explanation of various facts of domestic life, but it is possible to approach the consideration of these questions with some hope of deciding whether the explanation offered is a true or a fictitious one. The ability for this is largely a question of habit of mind or training; and for our purpose the training must include those departments of knowledge, the laws of which find daily expression in the manifold experiences of domestic life. The ultimate foundation for these laws is to be found in the study of Physics, which deals with those changes in the state of matter which stop short of the alteration of its composition; of Chemistry, which deals with changes involving an alteration of the composition of the substances under consideration; and of Physiology, which is the identification of the processes which take place in living animals and plants and their relation to the laws of physics and chemistry. Without a knowledge of the fundamental principles of these sciences and of the methods by which those principles are established, it is not to be expected that any person can deal adequately with the common experiences of life. It is true that experience, if it is sufficiently extensive and prolonged, may lead to the formulation of a set of practical rules that will carry a housewife through the ordinary household round without discredit, but the question which we have to put to ourselves is whether, by organising and directing the experience, success may not be made certain and more instructive. In these days domestic life is more complicated than it used to be; at the same time experience is in a sense more restricted. Many of the instructive processes, practical experience in which conveyed valuable if unconscious scientific training, are now conducted on a large scale, and are outside the range of domestic duties, and the housewife has to supply, by special training in scientific principles, the judgment that in days gone by was acquired as a matter of habit. It is impossible in the short space of a single article to set out the details of a systematic course of training sufficient to fit the housewife to use her judgment wisely in circumstances which require a knowledge of the principles of the fundamental physical sciences. The most that we can attempt is to give a few examples which illustrate the application of the principles of physics and chemistry. Our purpose in doing so is to suggest illustrations which appeal to every householder, and may create a desire for fuller knowledge rather than to supply a course of instruction. What we aim at is not to provide the equipment of scientific training, but to show that the scientific habit of mind will find opportunities for useful employment in many of the most ordinary affairs of life. The problems that present themselves in the course of experience are sometimes difficult and intricate; patience and careful observation as well as knowledge are required for their solution. Sometimes this solution is beyond the immediate resources of those concerned, and it is a part of scientific training to recognise when this is the case, so that effort and money may not be wasted in endeavours which are foredoomed to failure. We may cite a case in point where an extra bell was desired in a system of electric bells in a flat at a time when electric installations in private houses were somewhat rare, and workmen with any knowledge beyond that necessary for carrying out instructions were not easily found. To the confusion of the tenant, the introduction of this extra bell caused all the bells in the flat to strike work. A mathematical lecturer living in the same building was consulted, and opined that the battery of two somewhat small-looking cells was insufficient, so he obtained and added a larger cell, but the bells were obdurate and did not resume work. A lady with knowledge of physics examined the installations and discovered that the wire connections as altered were entirely wrong and did not connect the bells to the battery. A plan of the correct connections was shown to the workman, who a few days later reported that now all the bells rang at once, and he had had to disconnect the battery! He produced a sketch of the connections he had made, and on his error being pointed out he was able to rectify it, and the bells answered to touch without the use of the extra cell. Generally speaking, a failure on the part of electric bells is corrected by filling up the cells which compose the battery with water, an operation which any one may undertake. It is not safe, however, for an inexperienced person to interfere with electric light fittings further than to remove a worn-out lamp and place a new one in the socket, and even this operation may be attended with disaster. A young friend of ours who was taking part in some private theatricals obtained the loan of a row of electric footlights. It did not occur to any one concerned to ask the voltage of the lamps or of the current to which they were to be applied. When the footlights were turned up they blazed for a brief period, and then every light in the house went out! Electrical science for the housewife has been resolved into a knowledge of electric terms and of a few practical rules useful and interesting in themselves, but not immediately suitable for our purpose of showing how scientific study may aid the housewife in her daily routine. PHYSICAL SCIENCE IN THE HOUSEHOLD We may for this purpose examine some of the laws of common physical and chemical phenomena, neglect of which has resulted in much needless discomfort in daily life, and even more serious consequences. For instance, the laws of expansion of gases and liquids with heat, and their subsequent behaviour, are phenomena that are often imperfectly realised. There is probably no person who is unacquainted with the law of gravitation, but there are many persons who accept literally the statements that smoke rises and that balloons ascend. A clear understanding of what actually takes place when gases and material masses appear to move in opposition to the law of gravitation is essential to any scheme for warming and ventilating the house. A very simple experiment will serve to reconcile the apparent contradiction of the universal law by the observed fact. Suppose we have two fluids, oil and water, of which oil is, bulk for bulk, lighter than water. If the oil be poured into a glass beaker, it will be seen to rest at the bottom of the beaker; if water be now poured into the same beaker the water will go to the bottom of the beaker and will displace the oil and lift it up so that the oil will float on the water; the oil may be lifted to any height we please if sufficient water be poured in to lift it to that height. If a single drop of oil be introduced into the water by means of a pipette and be liberated at the bottom of the beaker the water will close in under it, and lift it up to the surface. In both cases the oil "rises" through the water. Oil, however, has no tendency to "rise" by itself, and in this case it lay motionless until it was lifted by the heavier fluid. We may use colloquial language when describing phenomena if we bear in mind what is really taking place. A balloon "rising" through the air is exactly analogous to the drop of oil in the water. The balloon is, bulk for bulk, lighter than air; the air therefore closes in under it and lifts it just as the water lifted the bubble of oil. EFFECTS OF CHANGES OF TEMPERATURE ON AIR Let us apply this to air. Air when warmed expands, and therefore warm air is, bulk for bulk, lighter than cold air. Warm air behaves in the presence of cold air as the balloon: it is displaced and lifted by the cold air, the result being an ascending stream of warm air, which is called a convection current. The movement of ascending smoke is essentially the same as that of the warmed air. Smoke is warm air made visible by the particles of soot with which it is laden. The particles of soot would fall to the ground except that they are carried upwards in the stream of warm air. Dr. W. N. Shaw has called attention to the importance of these phenomena in his book on "Air Currents and the Laws of Ventilation," in the Cambridge Series of Physical Text-books. He there says: "The dominant physical law in the ventilated space is the law of convection. It is at once the condition of success and the cause of most failures. Without convection, ventilation would be impossible; in consequence of convection, nearly all schemes of ventilation fail. "The law of convection is the law according to which warmed air rises and cooled air sinks in the surrounding air. Its applications are truly ubiquitous. Every surface, _e.g._ a warm wall, or a person warmer than the air in the immediate neighbourhood, causes an upward current; every surface colder than the air in contact with it causes a downward current. "Ventilation would be much easier if warmed air or cooled air could be carried along at any height required; but the law of convection is inexorable: warmed air naturally finds the ceiling, cooled air the floor." It is true that the ventilation of a house is generally considered to be the business of the builder and architect, yet there are many unpleasant phenomena that come under the observation of the housewife which are due to this law of convection, and it will be useful to consider a few of them. Let us take first the universal annoyance to housewives caused by the sight of _dirt on the ceiling_. That all air is full of dust is seen when a stream of sunlight crosses a room; the particles of dust are then clearly perceived moving rapidly in all directions in the air. These dust particles, when air is at rest, constantly fall to the ground under the action of gravity, and are deposited on shelves and ledges, from which they have to be removed daily by the housemaid. When air is warmed and ascends it carries the dust particles with it, and these particles striking against any cold surface with which they come into contact stick to it. This is the cause of the necessity for the periodical sweeping of chimneys. The walls of the chimney are colder than the smoke that comes into contact with them, and the particles of soot in the smoke striking against them are deposited on them. In the house the effect of the bombardment of surfaces by dust-laden streams of air is seen most conspicuously over burning gas-lights. Burning gas does not itself produce all the dirt which is found on the ceiling above it, but it causes upward streams of hot air, which carry up the dust and deposit it on the ceiling. The practice of suspending a shade over the gas-light does not lessen the amount of dust and smoke in the air, but the shade serves to spread out the air over a larger surface, and thus to render the dirt on the ceiling less apparent. That the shade itself remains clean is due to the fact that it gets hot. A heated surface promotes the activity of the motion of the air-particles in its neighbourhood, and by this local activity the dust is repelled, so that a surface remains clean or becomes coated according as it is more or less hot than the invading current. The validity of this explanation may be tested by holding a cold spoon over a lighted candle when it will be seen that the spoon becomes blackened; if a hot spoon be substituted for the cold one it will remain clean. In order that the hot, vitiated air of a room may escape easily, it has been in many cases the custom to place an exit opening for it in the chimney over the room fireplace. The wall in the neighbourhood of this ventilator invariably becomes black; but as this wall is warm it is not probable that dust is deposited on it by the outgoing air, the explanation given by the housewife that the smoke from the chimney gets through the ventilator into the room is probably correct, though these ventilators are supplied with mica flaps which should swing open when air from the room strikes against them, and close when the air from the chimney does so. When a house is heated by hot-water pipes and radiators, the walls over these pipes are another source of trouble (Fig. 1). A good deal of scientific ingenuity is required if the walls are to be kept clean. [Illustration: FIG. 1.] That some ceilings appear striped with broad light and dark lines is due to inequalities in the temperature of the ceiling. The light stripes are under the joists, which prevent to some extent the escape of heat from the ceiling, and the dark correspond to the unprotected parts of the ceiling. The dust rising from the room is slightly repelled by the currents from the warmer parts of the ceiling, and sticks more readily to the colder parts. Let us take for our second example the apparently trivial matter of _smells in the house_. Smells may be of various kinds from various causes. The best judge of the kind, and therefore of the cause, is the nose. Suppose the smell to be the common one in houses of all classes--the smell of cookery! The smell of cookery in the house is generally a winter phenomenon. The air in an inhabited house is always in a state of motion, induced by the inequalities of temperature caused by the inhabitants themselves, and to a greater extent by the fires, of which there will certainly be one in the kitchen. We must remember that cold air will get into the house through all available openings, to take the place of the air which supplies the fires. The most obvious available openings in an ordinary dwelling-house are the casual ones of the open chimneys of unused grates, and the loosely fitting doors and windows. In cold weather fires are lighted in the sitting-room grates; these fires when lighted should warm the air in the chimneys above them and cause an upward draught in the chimney. Sometimes however the chimney will be found to be occupied by a current of air coming down to feed fires in other rooms, and so long as this goes on the smoke from the newly lighted fire comes into the room. The down-draught can be stopped by opening a window to supply sufficient cold air to counteract it, otherwise we have to adopt special devices to make the smoke go up the chimney in the first instance. Sometimes a newspaper is burnt in the grate to give the necessary amount of warm air, but this is a dangerous practice by which the chimney may be set on fire. Sometimes air is supplied by the bellows. A newspaper is often held in front of the grate so as to close the opening above the fire and cause the cold air to pass through the fire, thus promoting combustion and the supply of hot air in the chimney. In any case, the warm air of the fire is carried up the chimney by the cold air of the room, and this cold air is drawn from the casual openings already referred to. It has been demonstrated by laboratory experiments that the amount of draught in any chimney depends on the height of the chimney and the fire in its grate. Smells are conveyed about a house by the flow of air to feed the fires, and they nearly always find their way from all parts of the house to the ground-floor sitting-rooms when the doors are left open and the fires are burning. On their way they pass through passages and are therefore nearly ubiquitous. The air of any room in the house is in communication with that of every other room, and it is only by the nature of the smell that we can tell its probable source. There are people who like when they open the bedroom door in the morning to know that coffee and bacon await them downstairs, or on coming into the house from a cold winter's walk to meet a "delicious smell of Irish stew." To other people all smell of cookery is abhorrent, and they feel a sense of irritation that their guests should on entering the house be regaled with the odour of the preparation of food. To many mistresses the only remedy that suggests itself is a message to the cook, who is powerless in the matter and returns an answer that she is sorry, but that she doesn't know why there should be a smell of cooking upstairs as there is none in the kitchen. A visit to the kitchen will generally confirm the cook's statement as to that particular spot, but a considerable smell will be encountered on the kitchen stairs. We may inquire into the cause of this. The usual equipment of the kitchen includes a closed range, supplemented in many cases by a gas stove. The kitchen fire draws a plentiful supply of air from casual openings, and this air for the most part passes with the smoke up such flues as are open. The oven is provided with a ventilator, which carries off the odour of baked or roasted meats. The odour in the hot air over the closed range has no escape except into the kitchen--the cook says that ever so slight an opening in the top of the range will prevent the oven from heating. This odour-laden air therefore comes directly into the kitchen, and being hot is directed to the ceiling, thus escaping the cook who is in the draught of the fresh air supply. Travelling along the ceiling the hot air passes through the opening at the top of the door and mingles with the fresh air on its way upstairs. The same thing happens when the gas stove is in use. The only remedy is to provide some exit for the hot air of the kitchen which will be more easily accessible than that by way of the door, for the hot air will travel by the easiest path. A considerable knowledge of science is required to achieve this object. [Illustration: FIG. 2.] Closely allied with the smell of cookery is _the smell of the gas stove_. Many persons consider that the use of a gas stove either in the kitchen or in a bedroom is inseparable from the peculiar odour of partially consumed gas. It may therefore be useful to consider how the gas supplied to stoves and incandescent lights differs from that of an open gas fire or that of an ordinary burner. Gas stoves and incandescent lights get their supply of gas through what are known as Bunsen burners, so called after the German chemist whose invention they are. In an ordinary burner the gas mixes with atmospheric air at the opening at which it burns; the supply of air obtained in this way is insufficient for complete combustion until the outer layers are reached; the interior part of the flame is bright and smoky. In the Bunsen burner the gas issues from the main through a nozzle which opens inside a bulb. The bulb is perforated to allow of the ingress of atmospheric air; the gas and air mix in the tube which is a prolongation of the bulb, and the mixture is lighted at the top of the tube. Fig. 2 shows a representation of the Bunsen burner as applied to a gas stove. In this the gas escapes from the main at the nozzle _n_, into a bulb of which the tube A is a prolongation, air is admitted to the bulb at the openings _a a_, and the mixed gas and air is burnt at the openings in the tube A. The amount of air supplied is regulated by the size of the openings _a a_ and the holes where the gas is lighted. The gas thus supplied with air is completely consumed where combustion begins, and a clear, blue, non-luminous flame is the result. If the holes through which the mixture of gas and air issues are partially closed by rust or by accretions from the "boiling over" of saucepans it is evident that, the gas supply being unchanged, less air can be drawn through them; consequently the gas will not be entirely consumed, and acetylene (C2H2, one of the products of partially consumed coal gas) will pass into the atmosphere and will give rise to the peculiar odour associated with gas stoves. This product of partially consumed gas is very poisonous, and all gas stoves should be furnished with chimneys to carry off the fumes to the open air. The phenomenon known as "burning back," that is, the ignition of the gas at the nozzle in the bulb, is caused by the pressure of gas being too small for the supply of air. The gas should at once be turned out and relighted till it burns at the proper places. The simple remedy for smell from a gas stove is the cleansing of its burners, unless indeed the kettle is too close to the holes from which the gas issues for complete combustion to be possible. There is another winter phenomenon which is very disagreeable--the presence of _fog in the house_; and the perplexed housewife asks, Where does the fog get in when all outside doors and windows are closed? We have already pointed out that the sitting-room fires must have air, and that that air will be drawn from casual openings. Among these openings are the chimneys of fireless grates; the greater part of the fog in the house comes down these chimneys. On a foggy day it is wise to close the chimneys of fireless grates and provide some other opening for the supply of air; but all air from the outside is full of fog. The problem of how to let in air and keep out fog suggests the question, What is fog? Fog consists of material particles (dust or smoke) on which vapour has condensed; if these particles can be removed the air will be clear. The problem for the housewife is how to free a sufficient quantity of air from these particles. _A smell of gas_ in any part of the house may be very dangerous if no one on the premises has any scientific knowledge, for it may be premised that the escape of gas is not where the smell is first perceived. Gas being lighter than air is carried upwards, and the smell is at first above the place of escape; it may even be in a room over where the gas is escaping. The only safe detector of the source of mischief is the nose; the mixture of coal gas and atmospheric air is explosive, and no light must be struck. The upper sash of the window should be pulled down to allow the gas to escape, and if the accident is at night time must be allowed before searching for the source of escape further than can be done by feeling the taps in the dark or following the scent by the nose. Further illustration of the effect of convection currents in the air of a dwelling-house are needless, but the student may profitably spend time and thought in considering how fresh air may be introduced into a room without causing cold air to lie on the floor or hot, vitiated air to cling to the ceiling. It is the old problem (with a difference) of teaching a grandmother to suck an egg. He may also interest himself in seeking answers to the questions (1) What action is expected to take place when a poker is placed against the bars of a grate to make the fire draw? and (2) Does the sun put the fire out, and if so how? In connection with the expansion of air with heat he may consider the popular fallacy that an inverted empty pot in a pie keeps in the juice. EFFECT OF CHANGES OF TEMPERATURE ON WATER Accidents have occurred in houses owing to ignorance of the full effects of heating or cooling water from its ordinary temperature. Water at any ordinary temperature expands when subjected to the action of heat; it contracts on cooling till it reaches a temperature seven degrees above the freezing point; from this temperature it expands until it becomes a solid mass of ice. At still lower temperatures ice contracts. Let us consider first the effect of heating water. If water at the ordinary temperature be poured into a vessel which is placed on a fire or other source of heat the water at the bottom of the vessel will be warmed and will expand; it will therefore be lighter, bulk for bulk, than the water nearer the top of the vessel. The cold water will therefore descend, and the warm water will rise. All ordinary water contains air; presently the air in the water will become visible as small bubbles which rise to the surface of the water and escape noiselessly into the atmosphere. As more heat is applied some of the water in the bottom of the vessel will be formed into steam, and bubbles of steam will expand and rise into the cooler water above and collapse there with a rattling noise which is characteristic of the state known as simmering. These bubbles of steam rising and bursting aid the convection currents in stirring and mixing the water so that it presently becomes of even temperature throughout. When this occurs the bubbles of steam rise to the surface and burst explosively into the atmosphere, throwing the water violently about; the water is then boiling. It is an important point to remember in cookery that boiling water will not become any hotter with the application of more heat, but it will "boil away;" that is, it will be completely converted into steam. The steam resulting from any volume of water occupies a space 1700 times that of the water from which it is produced, but what concerns the housewife most seriously is that the change of water into steam is accompanied with the evolution of tremendous mechanical force that will burst any vessel in which the water is enclosed. It is the fact of this tremendous exercise of mechanical force that has led to serious accidents when hot-water bottles have been put into the oven to keep warm. It has been assumed by some people that if the hot-water bottle be not completely filled, that if what they consider to be sufficient room is left for the expansion of the water, no harm can result from putting the bottle into the oven, but no arrangement can make such a course safe. The bursting of the kitchen boiler is an accident resulting from disregard of the phenomena of heated water. It sometimes happens that the hot-water supply of the various taps in the house fails. If the boiler supplying the water is a hand-fed one some one whose duty it was to fill it has neglected that duty. An empty boiler with a removable lid will do no harm, but it is not advisable to leave it empty, as the heat of the fire will destroy the iron of which it is made. No attempt, however, should be made to fill the boiler while it is hot, as the result of pouring cold water into it will be the sudden and violent conversion of the water into steam, and the person pouring in the water will assuredly be scalded. If the boiler be one that is filled automatically, one of two things has probably occurred: either the pipes are blocked by fur--that is to say by sediment from the boiled water--or the supply-pipe is frozen. In neither case is it safe to light the fire. If the pipes are blocked by fur steam will be formed in the boiler and it will burst; if the supply-pipe is frozen the heat may thaw the ice, and the inrush of cold water will at any rate crack the boiler. [Illustration: FIG. 3.] When water expands with heating convection currents are formed in it, and the hot water rises to any height we please if cold water be available to take its place. This law of convection is applied to maintain a circulation of hot water in pipes used for warming a house. The general arrangement of such a system is shown in Fig. 3. The furnace heats a boiler in the basement or on the lowest storey of the house; HB and HL' are parallel vertical pipes connected with a horizontal pipe H'H at the top of the house; C is a small cold-water cistern which is furnished with a ball-tap to maintain the supply of cold water to the pipe H'L if any water is drawn off at any part of the circuit. The short pipe A acts as a valve for the escape of air from the pipes. The pipes H'L, H'H, and HB are filled with water. When the fire is lighted in the furnace, hot water is driven up the pipe HB by cold water descending through H'L, and this circulation goes on so long as a difference of temperature is maintained in the pipes; that is, so long as the fire is burning. Any number of coils of pipes may be introduced into the circuit between the boiler and the top of the pipe HB. In filling the pipes with water allowance is made in these coils for the expansion of the water with heat and for the air which we have seen escapes from heated water, and a tap is fixed in each coil for letting out any air that may have lodged in it. If free air remains in the pipes the circulation of the water will be hindered and the boiler may become dangerously overheated. It is therefore necessary when the heating apparatus is in use to examine these taps and see that water and not air escapes from them. The installation of a heating apparatus in middle-class houses is fairly common, and where one is not found many persons use gas or oil stoves in the passages in the winter, for it is now realised that it is not possible to heat rooms by means of open fires without creating cold draughts in them from the cold passages into which they open. And, moreover, the constant change of temperature encountered in passing from one warm room to another through cold passages is not only disagreeable, but is not found to be conducive to health. Let us turn to the cooling of water. Water expands about one-eleventh of its volume on becoming ice. This change of state, like that of change into steam, is accompanied by the evolution of tremendous mechanical force. If water freezes in pipes it bursts the pipes, and on a thaw taking place the pipes are found to leak. The appropriate remedy for this state of things is to protect the pipes from cold or to empty them when a frost is apprehended. In all properly built houses there is a tap by means of which the water supply can be cut off from the house, thus allowing the pipes to be emptied on a frosty night. The custom of leaving the taps dripping is effective, because the pipe is generally liable to freeze at some particular point where it is in immediate contact with the cold air, probably in the unclosed chink where the pipe passes through the wall; keeping the water moving in the pipe prevents any part of it getting cold enough to freeze, but the practice should not be resorted to, as it wastes water. RADIANT HEAT [Illustration: FIG. 4.--Section of a Convex lens.] It is pleasant on a dry, still day in winter, when the ground is covered with crisp snow or glistens with hard frost, to feel the warmth of the sun's rays, and it is becoming quite a fashion for people of leisure to spend the winter months at the pleasure resorts amid the snow-laden mountains of Switzerland. It is a matter of some interest to inquire how it happens that the sun's rays are warm when the thermometer tells us that the temperature of the air is below freezing-point. There is an old and pretty experiment in which a burning glass is made of ice; it is not a difficult thing to do. If the scale-pan of an ordinary balance be made hot and be pressed against a slice of ice (the concave side of the scale-pan towards the ice), first on one side of the slice and then on the other, the ice can be formed into a convex lens (Fig. 4). If now this lens be placed in the path of a sunbeam and the light be brought to a focus, that is, to a bright spot on a piece of paper, the paper will be heated and will take fire while the lens through which the heat passes remains ice. From this we may surmise that the heat of the sun does not affect the medium through which it passes. Clerk Maxwell suggested yet another experiment in illustration of this law. By means of an ice lens he collected the sunlight to a focus in the middle of a basin of clear water, and observed that no effect was discernible in the water. He then directed the focus (the spot of light) on to a mote in the water. The mote became hot, the water was agitated, convection currents were formed, and the mote was carried up in them. This showed that rays of light from the sun do not affect the substances through which they can pass, and that they heat bodies through which they do not pass. It has been demonstrated by laboratory experiments that all hot bodies emit rays of heat, whether we see the rays or not. When we see the rays the bodies are said to be red or white-hot. The process by which heat passes from one body to another without warming the intervening medium is called radiation. Radiation takes place only through transparent bodies. Rays of heat, like rays of light, pass through transparent bodies; whereas they are absorbed by, that is they make hot, opaque bodies. Heat rays travel in straight lines and are reflected from polished surfaces; their intensity varies inversely as the square of the distance of the object on which they fall from their source. The heat of an ordinary fire is radiant heat; when we sit round the fire we act as opaque bodies and absorb the heat, and are what we call scorched if the fire is very bright. If we move away from the fire, still letting the same firelight shine on us, we are not scorched; this is because the heating power of the rays varies inversely as the distance from their source, therefore if we move away double the distance we receive one quarter of the heat that we received before we moved. If we draw our chairs to one side we are not scorched, because the rays of heat do not travel round a corner. CONDUCTION OF HEAT We have seen that the ice-lens was not affected by the passage of heat through it. If we now take hold of the lens we shall experience a feeling of cold, and the lens will begin to melt. Heat has passed from our hand into the ice. The process by which heat passes from one body to another in contact with it is called conduction. The fundamental law of conduction is, that heat always passes from a warm body to a cold one. Clerk Maxwell illustrated this law in a series of very simple experiments. He placed a silver teaspoon in a cup of hot tea, and noted that the handle became warm gradually from the hot tea; the heat passed from the bowl of the spoon in the tea to successive parts of the handle until the whole spoon was hot. His second experiment was to put two cold spoons, one of silver and one of German silver, into the tea, when he found that the same phenomenon took place, but that the silver spoon became hot much more quickly than did the German silver one. He then put three spoons into the tea, made respectively of silver, of German silver, and of bone. In the result, he found that when the other two were hot, the bone spoon hardly showed any sign of heat at the end of its handle. The conclusion to be drawn from these experiments is that heat passes at different rates through different substances. Substances through which heat passes quickly are called good conductors of heat. The law of the conductivity of heat is that in a homogeneous body the flow is continuous, and is from the region of high temperature to the region of low temperature, and that it continues until the body is of uniform temperature throughout. The law is the same for bodies of different materials when in contact one with another. The conduction of heat is in operation in every department of domestic life. People live in houses and are clothed to protect them from the vicissitudes of the weather, including the cold of winter and the heat of summer; use is made of the phenomenon in warming the house and in the preparation of food. In selecting materials for various purposes, account has to be taken of their conductivities, for in some cases it is desirable that the transfer of heat should take place slowly, and in others that it should take place quickly. It might be thought that the conductivity of a substance could be estimated by touch, but a little reflection will show that this cannot be the case. The flow of heat between two bodies depends upon the difference of temperature between them, and if there should be no difference of temperature between them at the moment of touch there will be no flow of heat, though both are bodies of greater or less conductivity. Let us take, for example of the uncertainty of estimation by touch, a well-known experiment. Suppose we have a basin of hot water and a basin of cold water, and place a hand in each for a few moments; suppose we withdraw the hands and plunge them into a basin of tepid water, we shall find that the tepid water feels cold to the hand that was in the hot water and warm to the hand that was in the cold water. Luckily, it has been found possible in the laboratory to refer substances to a common standard and to assign numerical values to them in order of their conductivities, so that substances can be compared and a selection made for any desired purpose. Pure silver has the highest conductivity; other useful materials take the following order: copper, zinc, lead, iron, steel, marble, glass, brick, slate, wood, fur, cotton, flannel, water, air. Fur and wool no doubt owe much of their warmth to the fact that they consist of fibres which enclose a good deal of air, but as a matter of fact the warmth of loosely woven woollen and knitted articles in general is often overrated; they are very warm as under garments or in calm weather, but in windy weather the air in them is rapidly changed and the cold seems to blow through them. If for any purpose we select a material from its place in a table of comparative conductivities, and use it without reference to the law of conduction of heat, we shall probably be disappointed with the result. We know that cotton burns easily; if we stretch a cotton handkerchief over the back of a gold watch and place a red-hot cinder from the fire on the handkerchief on the watch, the handkerchief will not be burnt. Many interesting problems present themselves when a house has to be built or rented. There is often opportunity for some choice of material in walls or roof, and some peculiarities to be considered. Are the top rooms of a thatched cottage warmer or colder than the top rooms of a house covered with slates? Is a wooden or an iron building warmer? What difference does it make if the iron building is lined with wood? If the iron walls were twice as thick, what would be the effect inside the room? Would the walls of such a building be always dry inside? It sometimes happens that the end wall of a row of houses is covered with slates to preserve it from the effects of storms of wind and rain; will that inside wall be always dry? But the housewife is probably more interested in those articles in use in the house which it is her business to provide. Shall the stoves be of slate or iron? In olden days warming-pans were made of copper. What change in the manner of use justifies making them of earthenware or India-rubber? The slow transmission of heat through thick woollen materials has been applied to the construction of Norwegian cooking-stoves (Fig. 5). These stoves consist of a wooden box, lined with well-padded felt. The cooking vessels are of metal; the food when at boiling point is placed in these vessels and the lids put on, a thick padded felt is placed on the vessels and entirely fills the wooden lid of the box which is then closed; the heat is preserved so that the cooking is continued without further attention. Would it be possible to use the Norwegian stove as a refrigerator? Would it keep an ice pudding cold without any alteration? In connection with this we may ask why freezing machines have the inner vessel in which the freezing takes place of zinc, and the outer vessel which contains the ice and salt of wood? What would be the effect of interchanging the materials? [Illustration: FIG. 5.] It is possible that the excellence of some continental cookery is due to the extensive use on the continent of earthenware cooking utensils through which heat passes very slowly. The growing fashion of using enamelled cooking vessels must have some effect on the food cooked in them as heat certainly passes quickly through them. Reference has been made to them simply to demonstrate the universality of the application of physical laws, and we may now return to the house and its arrangement for the comfort of the inmates. METHODS OF DOMESTIC HEATING The two methods of warming a house are by radiation and conduction. We may surmise that in any case both methods will be in use, but the one will predominate; for instance, in heating by an open fire radiation will predominate, and in heating by stoves and radiators conduction will predominate. In planning a house a decision must be made between the two. This decision being made there is the further consideration of where the source of heat shall be placed. In the case of an open fireplace shall it be in an end wall, in a corner, in an outside wall, and so on, the object being to make the greatest possible use of the heat that passes up the chimney and of that which radiates into the room. The same consideration must be paid to the situation of the closed stove; where will it pass heat by conduction to the greatest volume of air, and where can its radiant heat be utilised? In a room heated by a stove there is frequently a vessel of water placed by or on the top of the stove. If we ask what is the purpose of this water we shall be told that the stove dries the air in the room. Now, it is impossible that the heat of the stove should remove any moisture from the air; we must therefore seek an answer to the question, What is dry air? The sensation of the dryness or moisture of the air does not depend only upon the amount of vapour in the air but upon the ratio of the amount present to the amount that the air is able to hold at the given temperature. The warmer the air is the more vapour it can hold, hence when the air is warmed the percentage of water present to the possible amount in it is lowered; that is its humidity, which is the percentage amount, is lowered, and we feel it to be dry. The question may arise why we should feel this when the room is heated by a stove and not when it is heated by an open fire? It may be that in a room with an open fire we are warmed by radiation and give out heat to the surrounding air which is constantly changed by convection currents, so that the air we breathe is colder than we ourselves; and that in a room warmed by a stove we receive heat from the air and are constantly breathing air that is warmer than we ourselves. But it is more than probable that the custom of providing a source of moisture to the air persists from the suggestion of a single person in seeking to relieve the disagreeable feeling attending the breathing of air laden with the poisonous products of half-consumed gas, and that it has no real scientific foundation. _How to estimate temperatures._--Whatever method is adopted for warming a room, the housewife may be assured that the resulting temperature will not be pleasing to every member of the family. One will find it too warm, and another will at the same time find it too cold, and this not from any wilful captiousness but from the cause that we have already alluded to, that the feelings are a very uncertain test of temperature. It is therefore advisable to keep the air of the room as far as possible at a standard temperature. To do this it will be necessary to have a thermometer in the room, and to know what its readings indicate. When the thermometer registers 32° Fahr. or less, water will freeze in the room, and the vessels in which it is kept will burst; it is therefore wise, when it is anticipated that the temperature will fall below 32° Fahr., to empty the ewers and bottles that may be in the room. From 32° Fahr. to 40° Fahr. the room will be very cold, up to and including 58° Fahr. it will be too cold to be pleasant; the standard temperature may be taken as between 62° and 64° Fahr. It may appear a simple matter to hang up a thermometer and read it, but a little thought will show that it is not so easy as it seems. If, for instance, the thermometer is placed in front of the fire at a distance, say of four feet from it, what will its reading indicate? Will it be the temperature of the air of the room or the temperature of the fire, or if neither, what will it be? Suppose we have two identical thermometers, and hang them on adjacent walls, one of which is an outside wall, which of the two readings shall we take as that of the temperature of the room? It is not an easy matter to decide. In a sick-room, where one person's comfort only has to be considered the doctor will order the thermometer to be hung at the bed-head, but we cannot adopt this plan in a general sitting-room. CHEMICAL SCIENCE IN THE HOUSEHOLD In our endeavour to establish the claims of the science of chemistry to a prominent place in the educational equipment of women, all reference to those most interesting and important chemical phenomena that accompany the exercise of the physiological functions will be omitted; as also those which are most immediately concerned with the preparation of food. Attention will be confined to some of the common occurrences of daily life, the methods of dealing with which are typical of the method adopted in considering more important and abstruse problems. Perhaps one of the most disappointing experiences of the novice in housekeeping is the rapidity with which everything assumes a shabby aspect. Bright paint grows dull, dull paint wears away, curtains and fabrics fade, and very soon mistress and maids alike feel that the house no longer repays the trouble incurred in the spring-cleaning that it must still undergo. This spring-cleaning, the primary object of which is the preservation of the beauty and substance of the house and its appointments, is in the result the cause of much of their deterioration. Cleaning consists in removing dirt by means that are partly physical and partly chemical; for instance, the removal of dust by sweeping, shaking, or brushing is a physical operation, and the removal of dirt and grease by dissolving them in soapy water involves their change by a chemical process. If the surfaces or materials to be cleaned include a substance on which the cleansing agent can operate the agent will not confine its work to the removal of the dirt only; in washing coloured fabrics we know how often the colour comes out with the dirt. Knowledge therefore, not only of the composition and properties of cleansing agents, but also of the surfaces and materials to which they are to be applied, is essential, and we should find that it is not always the powder or paste which makes the greatest show of cleanliness in the shortest time, with least expenditure of labour, that is the most to be desired. _The use of alkalies._--The most common cleansing agents are hot water, soap, and soda. Hot water is itself a detergent; that is, it has the power of dissolving dirt. It does not, however, dissolve grease, and all household dirt is more or less greasy, hence we cannot do our cleansing with water only, and we are accustomed to add to it soap or soda. It is not easy or even possible to discuss the chemical properties of substances without the use of chemical terms. Substances are classified for chemical purposes in groups, every member of which exhibits the same chemical property, and we shall require to distinguish between the group called acids and the group called alkalies. It will be sufficient for our purpose just now to know that acids have a sour taste and that alkalies counteract acids. From this definition lemon-juice will easily be recognised as an acid. If we add soda to lemon-juice there will be a brisk effervescence and the lemon-juice will no longer be sour, hence soda is an alkali. Alkalies have another well-known chemical property--they dissolve grease and oil and enable them to mix with water. If we have some hot water in a tumbler and pour oil into it the oil will float on the water, and if we stir the two together the oil will break into globules but will still float on the water; we cannot mix them together. If we dissolve some soda in hot water and pour in oil we shall find on stirring that the mixture becomes milky or soapy in appearance and the oil and water are no longer discernible as different fluids. Moreover, on standing the oil will not again separate from the water; it has been emulsified. Oils themselves have the chemical power of dissolving resins. Resins are hard, bright vegetable gums which will come under our notice when we consider the composition of varnishes. All hard soaps are made from soda, grease, and resin; the cheaper soaps contain free soda, the dearer ones contain an excess of fat. Yellow scrubbing soap contains about eight per cent. of free soda. Both soap and soda can be dissolved in water, and are so dissolved for cleaning purposes. Knowing the constituents of our cleansing agents, we can consider their action on paint and varnish. Paint contains white-lead, linseed-oil, and colouring matter. It is not very hard when dry and can be easily scratched with the nail. Varnish is made from linseed-oil, resin, and turpentine. When dry it should be very hard and bright. The whole of the painted woodwork of the house is subjected to spring-cleaning whatever its appearance with regard to dirt may be. The operator throws into a pailful of hot water a "handful" of soda, soaks a scrubbing-brush in the mixture, rubs it well with soap, and uses it to brush the somewhat soft paint or harder varnish. The soda and soap, aided by the heat, soften the paint and the brush removes a quantity equal to about a coat of paint. The effect is certainly pleasing for the time being, but there will be no difficulty in understanding that the process can only be repeated until the paint and varnish grow shabby or disappear. It is not wise for the inexpert housewife to trust to unscientific friends for advice as to the best materials to use when cleaning paint. A foreman painter once gave, as a recipe for this purpose, an instruction to add a tablespoonful of "salts of tartar" to three-quarters of a pailful of water. The result was a very rapid and complete removal of dirt from the paint, but the housewife, being dissatisfied with the rather dull appearance of the white varnish, stroked it with her finger and found that it was covered with a fine white powder. The maid's assurance that this was all right and only needed to be removed by dusting did not satisfy her, and she began to wonder what chemical action was to be expected from "salts of tartar." A first search for information revealed that salts of tartar was an old name for "potassium carbonate," but the housewife knew no chemistry and had never heard of potassium carbonate, so this information was useless to her. She had, however, had some scientific training and was not satisfied to rest in ignorance. A search in a book on elementary chemistry disclosed the further truth that the commercial name for "potassium carbonate" is pearlash! She then remembered that being desirous at one time to remove the paint from some oak carving said to be two hundred years' old, she had successfully used a solution of pearlash painted on with a brush. The paint when dry from the application had been scraped off in long, tough ribbons. Of course the mixture had been very much stronger than that prescribed by the painter, but the effect had been very much more apparent. Acids and alkalies are to some extent responsible for the fading of fabrics in the wash when these fabrics owe their colour to vegetable dyes. Acids turn vegetable blues red, alkalies turn vegetable blues green and vegetable yellows brown. It is easy to illustrate this action of acids and alkalies on vegetable colours. A blue liquid can be obtained by boiling a red cabbage in water. If we take two portions of this water and add any acid, say lemon-juice, to one portion we shall obtain a red liquid; if we add any alkali, say soda, to the other portion we shall obtain a green liquid. If we go a step further and add lemon-juice to the green liquid and soda to the red liquid we may approach very nearly to our original blue liquid. These experiments suggest a remedy for the change of colour in fabrics on washing with soda, but the dyes most commonly used are not vegetable dyes, and the fading of the fabrics is due to chemical changes, into which we have no space to enter. Strong acids and alkalies act as caustics; that is they destroy fabrics. Continued washing in strong soda and water not only tends to destroy, but also spoils the appearance of all kinds of wearing apparel and household linen. White silk and wool at once become yellow on being washed with soap that contains free soda, and linen is affected in the same way though not to the same extent. The widely advertised pastes and liquids for cleaning metal-work, particularly brass, often contain acids or alkalies that are injurious to metals. If after cleaning there should be a green deposit on brass or copper it will be wise to inquire into the composition of such deposit, and to discontinue the use of that paste or liquid. When brass pans are used for boiling fruit for jams, it is usual to rub them inside with a slice of lemon before putting in the fruit. A careful housewife will consider the reason for this custom. We remember once seeing a copper pan, that had been provided for the preparation of oatmeal porridge, with a band about an inch wide of green crystals on the inside. Inquiry elicited that the cook had thought it a convenient pan in which to prepare the fish (salt haddock) for breakfast. Ignorance of the chemical action of salt and acids on metals may lead to very serious results. The common name for the green deposit on brass and copper is verdigris, and most people know that verdigris is a poisonous compound; the difficulty is that, not knowing its chemical composition, they do not recognise verdigris when they see it. The cook thought that the complaint made had reference only to the misuse of the pan, and said that it was quite easy to clean the green deposit off! THE CHEMISTRY OF THE BODY It is to the science of chemistry that we owe our knowledge of the composition of the various foodstuffs from which dietaries are selected, as well as of the several parts of the human body which relies for its sustenance on those dietaries. But the adjustment of dietaries to the work they have to do is a more complex problem than those we have hitherto considered. We learn from the science of physiology that the human body is a laboratory in which certain juices are secreted for the digestion of foods, and that in this laboratory foods must be reduced to the consistency necessary for their passage through animal membranes; for it is by passage through membranes that the nutritive parts of food find their way into the general circulation of the blood which carries them to all parts of the system. Very few foodstuffs are available for use in their natural state, and the majority of them are prepared for consumption in the first place by more or less elaborate processes included in the art of cookery. When thus prepared they should be in a fit state to undergo in the body the physical changes comprised in mastication, and the chemical changes associated with the process of digestion. It might be surmised by the thoughtful parent that as the child's body lacks some of the external features of the adult body, such as hair and teeth, so there might, and probably would, be corresponding lapses in the internal economy, and that therefore the food prepared for the adult would be, even in the smallest quantity, unsuited to the child. Physiologists tell us that this is so, and in particular that the secretions which in adult life are called saliva and pancreatic juice and which have the function of preparing starch for digestion, are at this time scanty in amount and deficient in chemical action. But these secretions are essential for the digestion of starchy foods, and chemists tell us that starch abounds in the vegetable kingdom from which most of the food of children is derived. It is therefore a matter of some importance that every person in charge of an infant should have that amount of knowledge of chemical reactions which is requisite to enable them to detect whether a food does or does not contain starch. A child fed entirely on starchy foods suffers from malnutrition of so serious a character that death may, and often does, ensue. Even if other suitable food, such as modified milk, be given, the internal economy of the child will be seriously disturbed. The names by which patent foods are advertised are very often misleading to unscientific persons, and invalids have suffered much from the mistaken idea that jellies and meat extracts are foods. Meat extracts have their use, but any invalid fed on extract of beef only would die sooner than one left with no food at all. The reason for this can be learned from the knowledge of the constituents of beef extracts and the part they play in the human organism. CONCLUSION If we have seemed to lay stress on the value of a knowledge of the sciences of physics and chemistry to the exclusion of the mention of others, our justification of the fact is that space is limited, and that we believe that physics and chemistry underlie all the other sciences and are of paramount importance to students of all other subjects. In the sciences of biology, physiology, botany, geology, &c., little advance can be made without a knowledge of the fundamental laws of nature. The physical laws control movement, and the chemical laws control growth, whether of animate or inanimate nature. Physical and chemical phenomena are concerned in the upheaval of rocks and mountains which govern the contour of the continents of the world. These contours influence climates and peoples; as the contours change the people change. The dwellers in the mountain regions differ in character from the dwellers in valleys and plains; the inhabitants of cold districts differ from the inhabitants of warm districts; but it is people who make history, and historians cannot afford to pass by natural environments and natural laws. If a foundation of the fundamental sciences be laid at school the student can subsequently build upon it the special science that is suited to his career. It matters little what the calling in life of any person may be; if he aim at success in that calling he must acquaint himself with the laws by which he has his being, and by which he must perforce be guided in all his actions as well as in his intercourse with his fellow-men. The many avenues now open to women for public work entail on them the responsibility of fitting themselves for that work. They as much as, if not more than, the housewife need to study the sciences which treat of the safeguarding of human life. As councillors dealing with sanitary and building laws, as inspectors of workrooms, of institutions, and of the conditions of child-life, they owe it to themselves and to the community they serve not to undertake those duties without adequate knowledge. Adequate knowledge must be taken to mean scientific knowledge of those matters of which, by offering themselves for such appointments, they assume an expert knowledge. It is an irony that scientific training should be willingly and even eagerly acquired when it is a question of qualifying for a salaried post for work among strangers, and that a mother should be content to bring to bear on the well-being and lives of her own circle unscientific and amateur experience. We have only been able to touch the skirt of a great subject, but our end will have been achieved if we have succeeded in pointing the way for a fuller realisation of the aims of earnest men and women for the saving of child-life and the mitigation of disease, and if we have shown how great that subject is--how much too great for anything but the most superficial treatment in a single article. THE ECONOMIC RELATIONS OF THE HOUSEHOLD BY MABEL ATKINSON, M.A. (GLASGOW) I. INTRODUCTORY The household has been treated by economists with curious negligence. The founder of political economy showed so little insight into the real nature of the work carried on there as to class those whom he described as menial servants with unproductive labourers.[13] The later classical economists have followed his lead. Marshall, it is true, shows throughout his books an appreciation of the position and responsibilities of the housewife and the mother which is foreign to most of his colleagues.[14] But he has never attempted to analyse the economic functions of the household, or to show its varying relations to the rest of the community; neither has he pointed out the peculiar factors which differentiate the position and remuneration of the women employed in domestic activities from those of all other workers. On the other hand, the more modern school of economists, those who devote themselves to the history of economic development in the past or to the intensive study of special economic institutions in the present, have equally failed to discuss with any adequacy the organisation of the household. The economic historians describe with minuteness the rise and fall of gilds and chartered companies, the workings of different methods of education and of poor relief in successive epochs. They rarely indicate how the various forms of industrial organisation translated themselves into the domestic expenditure of the people. It would, for instance, be very difficult to extract from the pages of the economic historians an answer to the question, "What were the conditions determining the supply of domestic servants at the close of the Middle Ages, in the eighteenth century and in the nineteenth century respectively?" It is not easy to answer definitely even simpler and more fundamental questions than these. It is often stated, for example, that the household arrangements of the serfs on the mediæval manors were rude and uncomfortable to the last degree,[15] but it is certain that this is not so universally true as has been thought. Some at all events of the more prosperous inhabitants of the manors possessed household furniture and equipments of a kind not inferior to the outfit of the casual labourer to-day. Sheets, for example, are mentioned several times in extant inventories. But much more investigation than has yet been possible would be necessary before it could be determined whether these instances of a higher standard of comfort are or are not exceptions to a general rule. To take other instances of unsettled problems: How was pottery made in the Middle Ages--by travelling potters as in the East to-day, by gilds of potters, or by the inhabitants of the manor directly for their own use? Or again: When did the custom of building houses to let on rent first become general in England? It is clear that the habit of living in rented houses has and must have the most profound influence on family life and national character. But so far, neither from economic histories on the one hand nor from histories of architecture on the other, have I been able to obtain any reliable information on this point. When one turns to even more important questions--such, for instance, as the industrial position of women at different epochs--it is equally difficult to obtain precise and detailed knowledge. Without a very lengthy and elaborate investigation of the extant original materials, many of them scattered in municipal chambers in distant parts of England, it would be quite impossible to say on what terms women were admitted as members of the gilds and fraternities which extended over the whole area of industrial life in the Middle Ages. The character and organisation of the household and the position of women in the Middle Ages are subjects still practically untouched by the economic historians.[16] When we turn to modern times, a little more material has been collected. There is an investigation by the Board of Trade into the wages of domestic servants, and a book on domestic service by Professor Lucy Salmon of Vassar College. It deals of course mainly with American conditions, but cannot be neglected by any English student of the economic relations of the household. Humanitarianism has prompted studies more or less elaborate of the dietaries and housing conditions of the working classes, especially in towns,[17] but it would be idle to pretend that there has been yet more than a beginning made of the task of determining how for each class of the community its share of the national income as stated in money is translated into the necessaries, comforts, and luxuries of life, into house-room, fuel, food, cleanliness, clothing, insurance, domestic service, recreation, and culture. The generalisations available are of the most meagre description. We can, for instance, say with tolerable certainty that the agricultural labourer spends three-fourths of his income on food, the town labourer two-thirds, the artisan a half, the middle-class man from a third to a fourth; but there is practically no reliable information with regard to very large incomes, or to sums spent on clothing in _any_ section of the community. Moreover, there is one class--large, growing in importance, and an essential element in modern civilisation--about whose domestic expenditure we have no scientific knowledge at all. This is the class which may be named "the routine brain-workers," the people who as clerks, book-keepers, salesmen, typists, &c., are responsible for the routine administration of modern commerce. They have been compared to the nervous system, for like that system in the animal body they serve for the communication and the mechanical record of the life of the community on its industrial side. With them may be classed elementary school-teachers, reporters, and the lower ranks of the Civil Service, though I should not be prepared to say that some of these--especially the teachers--ought to be regarded as performing only routine brain-work. But all these workers can be conveniently studied together in that their labour is carried on under somewhat similar conditions--it is sedentary, highly regimented, exhausting to the brain and nervous system, and is generally remunerated by a fixed salary, &c. They earn an income larger than that of the manual labourer, but considerably less as a general rule than that of the professional man. There is a total absence of information as to the domestic expenditure of this class. It is sometimes declared that its less well-paid members suffer as severely from poverty as do sections of the working-class, and that the poor clerk is really much more to be pitied than the well-to-do trade unionist, the skilled manual worker. But no one has yet attempted to test the truth of this view by the only scientific means, namely, by the collection of precise details as to the domestic expenditure of the routine brain-working class, showing what sums are spent on house-room, food, clothing, &c., and what kind of accommodation is obtained for the money spent. In short, the investigation of domestic expenditure has never yet been carried out in a purely scientific spirit solely for the sake of the resultant knowledge. It has always been undertaken with some special practical problem in view, and is consequently always fragmentary and frequently biassed. Yet if it is important to know how the wealth of the country is produced, it is of equal importance to know how it is consumed, and that whether the consumption takes the form of porridge and flannelette for the child of a dock-labourer, of drink and admission to a football match for the miner or cotton-operative, or of a gardener, and a holiday in Switzerland for the hard-working doctor or stockbroker. Domestic expenditure should be investigated as impartially by the economist as are the variations of plants or animals by the biologist. His one aim should be the discovery and statement of truth, as complete and as unbiassed as he can make it. Hitherto, as I have said, this field of research has remained comparatively untouched. In the first place, economists have generally been men, and have naturally devoted their energies to the elucidation of the problems of industry and business which concern men most closely. Few women, on the other hand, have until recently received any training in economics, and it has never occurred to them that the familiar and wearisome problems of the rent, the butcher's bill, and the children's clothes, together with the difficulty of finding a satisfactory cook, may have a wider aspect than the narrow and personal one. But even as it is, the few women who have distinguished themselves in the sphere of economics have in a note or a casual remark pointed out distinctions between household management and other branches of industry which cast a flood of light on the whole subject. There is a paragraph in the second volume of "Industrial Democracy"[18] which lays down the difference between the underlying principles of business and of the administration of the home in a few words which might serve as the text for a volume. It is precisely this difference, first clearly indicated by Mrs. Webb, which constitutes the second ground for the common neglect of this branch of economics. A factory or a shop is run for profit; a household simply to provide comfort and convenience for its members. To put it in technical language, in the world of industry we are concerned with exchange values, but in the home with use values alone. From this distinction, overlooked by reason of its obviousness, there flow a large number of consequences which will be discussed later. At present we are only concerned to show that economists, with their eyes fixed on trade and the mechanism of trade, very naturally neglected that section of life in which values, material and immaterial, were being continually created, but for use alone, not for commercial purposes. The wife who cooks her husband's dinner, or caters, organises, and keeps accounts for him, is really engaged in work which in any rational interpretation of the word has far more right to be called productive than is much of the labour employed in manufacture or business. But the work accomplished by the wife in the household has never yet received its full acknowledgment from the economists. The truth is that, although they constantly warn students to avoid the vulgar error of confusing money wages with real wages, they themselves have been so biassed by the commercial conception of profit-making that they have almost completely overlooked even the purely economic value of much work, such as cooking, cleaning, and clothes-making, which is carried on within the home, not for profit-making or for a salary, but as part of the duties attaching to the status of wife and mother. It is acknowledged by the economists themselves[19] that although in theory they have set aside a section to be devoted to the discussion of "consumption" as other sections deal with "production" and "distribution" of wealth, yet in practice the treatment of consumption has been meagre and ineffective. This, perhaps, is inevitable--it is certainly regrettable--and women economists would be performing a most useful work if they were to undertake a careful and detailed investigation into the consumption of wealth at different epochs and by different classes of the community, and one, moreover, for which their connection with housekeeping, which is only the practical application of the science of the consumption of wealth, would have already partially prepared them. There is still another reason why a scientific treatment of the consumption of wealth has been delayed. It could not be developed until medicine and hygiene had provided us with satisfactory standards of the needs of the human body. When food, for example, was still regarded purely as a matter of individual likes and dislikes, it was impossible to discuss at all adequately the sufficiency or insufficiency of the food consumption of a given class. But now that we know that the varying tastes simply express in different ways the need for so much proteid, carbo-hydrates and fats, we have a firm basis on which to work. It is true that it is not yet quite so firm as we could wish; the scientists have not yet succeeded even for a single class in fixing a dietary standard which would be accepted by all in particular, and recently the investigations of Professor Chittenden have suggested that the amount of proteid hitherto thought essential may be excessive. Moreover, little attention has yet been paid to the need of different food for different work. Yet it seems probable, to say the least, that the sedentary worker, using his brain and not his muscles, may require lighter and daintier food than the labourer in the fields or the docks, and may really suffer as seriously if that better food be denied him as does the latter if he fails to secure a sufficiency of coarser and cheaper nutriment. This question would be of great importance in investigating the expenditure of the clerk class. But although the scientists have here failed to provide the students of domestic expenditure with all the data required, yet there is sufficient knowledge of the general principles of dietetics to enable us to base our study of food consumption on a fairly sound basis. In the same way a standard of housing accommodation establishing the minimum of space per head necessary for health is generally recognised; and on these and similar calculations, correlated with the cost of house-room and commodities, it will be possible to build up a science of consumption which will be really a science and not a series of guesses and vague generalities. It is true, again, that it is easier to deal with the grades of society practising the roughest and least-skilled labour than with those engaged in the higher forms of brain-work, but we can at all events set ourselves to discover what _is_ the average distribution of the expenditure of men earning £1000 a year, and can afterwards appeal to the hygienists to decide for us what kind of food, house-room, and recreation is essential for a man who makes his living by the higher activities of the intellect. A very close connection between economics and hygiene is essential if the division of our subject that deals with consumption is to be adequately treated. So, then, a scientific study of the economics of the household would fall into two divisions--(1) an endeavour to describe the industrial development of each country as it affects family life, house-room, food, and clothes; and (2) a descriptive account of the domestic circumstances and the expenditure[20] of each class of the community at the present time. Under each of these headings special sections should treat domestic service, the work of woman beyond the household, and the organisation of household work as compared with different branches of industry and administration. Finally, a supplementary section should set forth the practical applications of the conclusions arrived at, and should endeavour to help the housewife or, it may be, the superintendent of an industrial school, college, or boarding house in the administration of the income at her disposal. But much more careful investigation into the question of how incomes actually are spent is essential before we can deal satisfactorily with the even more difficult problem of how they ought to be spent. And there is, too, another factor which must be taken into consideration. Economists in defining wealth commonly admit nowadays that it includes collective and immaterial well-being of various kinds.[21] But having made this admission, they straightway put it aside and proceed to discuss wealth as though it consisted exclusively of material exchangeable commodities. Yet clearly the real income of a family is increased if the children have easy access to good free schools or to ample open spaces. It will not be possible to estimate precisely the money value of opportunities of this description. But we should at least notice their presence or absence for each class and for each stage of national development. It is clear that in the present paper no attempt can be made to deal with the problems of the economics of expenditure or of the household save in the merest outline, and therefore the following pages are to be taken simply as a sketch to be filled in by more extensive and more throughgoing investigation later on. II. HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE POSITION OF THE HOUSEHOLD IN ENGLAND English industrial history has been divided into three main epochs with intervening periods of transition. These are (1) the mediæval period, (2) the period extending from Elizabeth's reign to the reign of George III., and (3) the modern period. In the first, the typical economic institutions are the manor and the gild; in the second, domestic manufacture and convertible husbandry are predominant; and in the third the factory system and capitalist farming take their places.[22] Trade, too, undergoes a similar evolution. In the first period it is intermunicipal rather than international. In the second period, within each nation trade is free and unfettered, and a considerable amount of territorial division of labour and regional specialisation results. But external trade is regulated by governments on the principles of the mercantile system. In the third period, with the increase and improvement of the means of communication, international trade becomes more and more important, markets are immensely widened, and the economic organisation of society reaches the complexity possessed by it to-day, which reacts in many half comprehended ways on the household and on family life. The main characteristics of these divisions of English industrial history are, on the whole, clear and well-marked. But the transition periods are more difficult to describe. It has often been pointed out that the two industrial revolutions, as they have been named by some writers, bear a certain resemblance to each other. Both involve a reorganisation of industry which results in increased productivity on the one hand, but in the demoralisation of certain classes of the workers on the other hand. Both therefore require a revision of the system of providing for the destitute. Both, too, produce the most far-reaching effects on home-life and the economy of the household, and influence profoundly the position of women. Both, too, are alike in that it is not easy to fix dates to the periods within which the revolution in industry takes place.[23] But roughly we may regard the late fifteenth century and the early part of the sixteenth as a time of stress and strain, due to the appearance of new methods both in agriculture and in industry, especially in the wool trade; and in the same way the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth was a period of sudden and violent economic transition. In both cases alike the changes in agriculture preceded somewhat the changes in industry, and the revolution made itself felt in different ways and at different times in the various districts of the country. There are still backward areas in the south of England and in the west of Scotland where life has been very little affected, notwithstanding trains and steam-engines, by the alterations in industry which have produced the roaring mills and clattering shipyards of Lancashire and the Clyde. The task before us, then, is to sketch as clearly as possible from the scanty material available the main features of domestic life at each one of these epochs, and to show how the changes in industry reflected themselves in the life of the household. (_a_) THE HOUSEHOLD IN THE MEDIÆVAL PERIOD (1) _The Serf--his Position and Domestic Arrangements_ In the mediæval period, outside the small and scattered towns, the prevailing form of economic organisation was the manor. We have to imagine the surface of England dotted over with stretches of cultivated land, with areas of waste, moorland or woodland intervening. Each stretch of arable land was cultivated more or less in common by groups of serfs, who lived generally in one long village street, with the church and the lord's hall near at hand. Usually, in addition to the arable land worked on the complicated "three-field" system soon to be described, there were also hay-meadows down by the river, sometimes permanent pasture held in common, while the waste was available for extra pasturage, and for cutting turf and wood for fuel. Each serf possessed, besides, a small croft attached to his house, and sometimes an orchard and rude garden. The arable land was divided into three large fields, not shut in as are our fields by hedges, but lying open. Each field, again, was partitioned into numbers of strips more or less regular in shape, and each serf possessed a certain number of these, not, however, all lying together, but intermixed "mingle-mangle" with the holdings of his neighbours. He was not allowed to cultivate these, or indeed any of the land save his own tiny croft, as he pleased, but was compelled to follow the traditional method of farming according to the customs of his manor. Usually the rotation was wheat or rye in the first year, oats or barley in the second year, fallow in the third year, while the other two fields followed the same course a year and two years later; so that in each year one field was fallow, one grew wheat or rye, and the other oats or barley. The animals belonging to the serfs and their lord were pastured on the arable fields when the crops were taken off, and on the fallow field. The lord of the manor also possessed strips in the common fields, and was regarded as the owner of the common and waste, subject to the pasturage and fuel rights of the tenants. He did not receive rent quite as we understand it, but each serf owed him dues calculated in labour, in kind, and occasionally in money. For instance, on the manor of Tidenham, in the time of Edward I., one serf worked for the lord for five days in every alternate week for thirty-five weeks in the year, two and a half days every week for six weeks in the summer, and three days every week for eight weeks during August and September (the three festival weeks of Easter, Christmas, and Pentecost were holidays). Then, in addition to this regular weekly work, he could also be required for extra work, commonly called boon-works or precariæ. "He made one precaria called churched, and he ploughed and harrowed a half acre for corn and sowed it with one bushel of corn from his own seed, and in the time of harvest he had to reap and bind and stack the produce, receiving one sheaf for himself on account of the half acre." And he had to plough one acre for oats. In addition, there were dues in kind--one hen at Christmas, five eggs at Easter, eight gallons of beer at every brewing, and also small payments in money, commuted, one would conjecture, for payments in kind, _i.e._ one penny for every yearling pig, and one halfpenny for those only of the half year.[24] In other cases the tenants paid dues of lambs, of fish, of honey, of clews of net yarn, of straw, &c. One of the tenants of the great monastic establishment at Glastonbury had to find thirty salmon, "each as thick as a man's fist at the tail."[25] A curious form of labour due is described in the Boldon Book. The tenants of certain manors in Durham had to build each summer a hunting-lodge for the bishop and his retinue when they came to take their pleasure in the moors in the west of Durham. At different periods and in different districts the subdivisions of the tenants vary greatly, and for complete details the reader must be referred to the special works on the subject. But two classes can usually be distinguished--(1) the villeins, who possessed oxen and worked the larger holdings (often about thirty acres--called virgates or yard lands); and (2) the cotters, who held about five acres, and whose domestic animals consisted of pigs and poultry. In addition there were often found socmen, who were personally free; and, at the other end of the social scale, slaves, who, largely through the influence of the Church, were manumitted before the end of the Middle Ages. The most striking feature about the manors is that each was almost completely self-supporting. Each manor provided corn, meat, eggs, milk, cheese, poultry, &c., for its own inhabitants. Fuel, and perhaps game and rabbits, came from the waste. The furniture was of rude wood, and the clothes would be sheep-skin and coarse cloth spun and woven from the wool grown on the sheep that were fed on the manor lands. The ordinary serf would very rarely either receive or spend coin of the realm. Salt he would buy and the metal pots and pans used for cooking, and, as Ashley suggests, tar.[26] But the greater amount of the goods required for himself and his family would be produced under what the economists call "natural economy," _i.e._ they were made by the people who intended to use them, directly, without the intervention of money or any mechanism of exchange. Together with this self-sufficiency would go a considerable amount of co-operation. Economists are not yet agreed as to the precise extent to which co-operation was used in the manorial village. But we know that tenants frequently lent their oxen to one another to make up the necessary team; that in some of the Durham manors there was a communal smith, who received payment in the possession of a strip of land; and that the tenants owned a common oven. It was customary, too, for one shepherd or swineherd to guard the sheep or the pigs of the whole community. The village mill, when first established, was also a common boon to the whole body of serfs, but later on the obligation to grind their corn at the lord's mill and to pay the dues came to be regarded as an onerous burden. A curious and important person on the mediæval estate was the bee-keeper. Particulars are given of his duties and rewards in one Durham manor by the Boldon Book.[27] He does no regular weekly work, the care of the bees apparently taking the place of this, but he must take part with the other serfs in the boon-works necessary at harvest and other times of pressure. As honey was almost the only source of sweetness in early mediæval cooking, it can be understood why the bee-keeper ranked only a little below the shepherd. The Boldon Book, unfortunately, since its aim is to define the relations between the villeins and their lord, does not tell us whether he superintended the bees belonging to his fellow tenants. On the analogy of the shepherd and swineherd, we should assume that he did. How, then, are we to describe the domestic life of the various sections of rural society at this time? Unfortunately, very little material exists on which to draw for the account of the household arrangements of the serfs. They have naturally left no account-books; they enter rarely into the literature of the period; there are no remains of their houses or clothing, and it is, in fact, far from easy to decide how they did live. But it seems probable that a rude and dirty plenty, procured by long hours of toilsome open-air labour, was the prevailing characteristic of the serf household. The house would be of clay or wattles or wood, probably without windows--and those certainly unglazed--and with a hole in the middle of the roof to let out the smoke, the fire being placed in the centre of the floor. The furniture must have been rough but solid, its most valuable items being the brass or iron cooking-pots. On the other hand, I do not believe that, in the more prosperous villein households at all events, the level of domestic comfort was so low as has sometimes been represented. Rough cloth was probably woven or sometimes bought. There is one case on record where, in return for a small piece of land, one family undertook to do the weaving for another, and Gasquet mentions[28] that to the common Christmas feast on one of the Glastonbury manors some of the tenants brought their own napkins, "if he wanted to eat off a cloth." I see no reason to doubt that some at least of the villein households were provided with coarse coverings for bed and table. On the other hand, it seems doubtful whether any form of artificial light was commonly used in the poorer households. The food, too, would show what to us would seem strange contrasts of plenty and of poverty. It would include neither tea nor coffee, neither sugar nor spices, nor yet potatoes. On the other hand, there was probably, save at times of famine, a sufficiency of bread,[29] and eggs and dairy produce would be used in quantities now quite beyond the reach of the ordinary working-man. The butter, it is true, was not of a high standard, for it was usually liquid, but the children must have had milk to drink and cheese and eggs to eat. Even the poorest serfs apparently kept a few fowls, since their dues are so often payable in eggs, and some of the eggs and the chickens would be available for family consumption. But their meat must have been much poorer than ours. Fresh mutton and beef were rarely eaten, except in the case of animals who had died a natural death. The others were much too valuable for draught purposes, for milk or for wool. Among the maxims of an old agriculturist of the thirteenth century we find the following remark: "If a sheep die suddenly, they put the flesh in water for so many hours as are between midday and three o'clock, and then hang it up, and when the water is drained off they salt it and then dry it. But I do not wish you to do this."[31] In the autumn, animals which it was impossible to keep during the winter, owing to the absence of root-feeding, were killed and salted down. Occasionally, however, fresh pork would be used, and no doubt every now and then a wild beast or bird from the common or waste would find its way into the housewife's iron pot. The food, then, would be rough and sometimes unwholesome, but on the other hand it contained many most desirable forms of nourishment which are absent from the labourer's diet to-day, and which are, it might be observed, those specially suitable for children.[32] The fuel used was wood or peat, or in some cases dried cow-dung. On the whole, then, the household arrangements of the mediæval serf were primitive, and in times of famine he and his family must have endured great hardships. The winters, too, when the tracks were deep in mud and artificial light was absent or scarce, must have been recurring times of considerable suffering. But on the other hand, fresh air and easy access to the land were benefits hardly valued until in later times they have been lost to whole sections of the population. (2) _The Lord of the Manor--his House and Household_ There is more material available for the description of the household of the lord than of his serf. Account-books, directions for household administration, and in the fifteenth century very curious rhymed rules of behaviour and of precedence are available. Naturally, however, it is of the king's household and of the households of the nobles and of the great monasteries that we know most. Very little can now be discovered of the details of the domestic arrangements of the master in possession of one manor only, and it is not certain that we should be justified in supposing that what we find to be true of the great household will necessarily hold also for the smaller one. For example, in the families of which we have records the great majority of the servants are men, cooking in particular being in the Middle Ages a masculine vocation. But is it safe to assume that the same would be the case in the household of a simple knight? It must therefore be clearly understood that what follows has reference mainly to royal and noble families. The domestic buildings of all manors were on a more or less uniform plan. They were grouped round a quadrangle, one side of which consisted of the great hall where dinner was served, business transacted, and where servants and the humbler guests slept at night. The door was at one end, usually protected by screens, behind which was another door leading to the buttery, and above which the musicians' gallery was often placed. Opposite the door was a raised daïs, where stood the table reserved for the master, his family, and important guests. In the body of the hall dinner was served to the rest of the household. A private chamber called the solar or bower, reached by a staircase either inside the hall or placed in the quadrangle outside, was kept for the special use of the lord and his family. There occasionally they took meals, though it was regarded as a sign of luxurious self-seeking to avoid the formality and bustle of the meals in the great hall. In the solar, too, beds were placed for important guests, and any particularly valuable articles of furniture would be kept there. On the other sides of the quadrangle were the chapel, granaries, storehouses, dairies and bakehouses, and the kitchen. This was often placed at a little distance to guard against fire. The cooking was usually carried on at an iron grate placed in the middle of the floor, and pictures show us that sometimes it was even done in the open air. Refuse was carried off by an open drain running across the centre of the kitchen. As an illustration let me quote an account of a typical manor-house of the twelfth century. "The manor-house of Ardleigh consisted of a hall with bower annexed. Also a kitchen, a stable, a bakehouse, two stores for corn (granges) and a servants' house. In the hall were two moveable benches, a fixed table, and a buffet." [33] In course of time other rooms were added, and the furniture and equipment became more elaborate. But until Elizabeth's reign the great hall where master and servants dined together was the central feature in the wealthy English home. The food was derived from the manor, and purchases were only made of such things as could not be produced in England, notably red wine,[34] spices, almonds and rice, all much used in mediæval cookery. Sugar, too, would be bought, when it replaced honey for sweetening purposes. But the corn, meat, milk, cheese, and eggs would be all home-grown, and as it was easier in the state of transport at that time to bring the family to the food than the food to the family, part of the duties of housekeeping consisted in so arranging the sojourn of the household as to draw food-supplies from each manor in the most convenient way. The great Bishop of Lincoln, Robert Grossetête, gives elaborate directions on this head to a widowed friend of his, Margaret, Countess of Lincoln. "Every year at Michaelmas when you know the measure of all your corn, then arrange your sojourn for the whole of that year and for how many weeks in each place according to the seasons of the year and the advantages of the country in flesh and in fish, and do not in any wise burden by debt or long residence the places where you sojourn. "I advise that at two seasons of the year you make your principal purchases, that is to say, your wines, your wax, and your wardrobe."[35] And there follows a list of the fairs recommended by the pious bishop. The materials of mediæval food, then, would be similar to the diet of the serfs already described, but would be used in greater plenty and would be supplemented by luxuries imported from the East and bought at the fairs. If we keep in mind these conditions, as well as the leisure and the large supply of labour available, we shall understand why mediæval cooking was so elaborate; for, contrary to ordinary opinion, it was distinguished by a large number of complicated made dishes. Small birds were commonly roasted, but other forms of meat were stewed or minced. They would in this way both be more easily dealt with at the open fire of the mediæval kitchen, and more easily served in the mediæval dining-room, where knives and spoons were the only implements in common use. Moreover, there was what seems to us an extraordinary liking for violent and mixed flavourings and brilliant colouring. Bucknade, for instance, was made of meat hewn in gobbets, pounded almonds, raisins, sugar, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, onions, salt and fried herbs, thickened with rice-flour and coloured yellow with saffron. Here, again, is the recipe for mortrews, a dish mentioned in Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales." "Take hennes and pork and seethe them together. Take the flesh of the hennes and of the pork and hack it small and grind it all to dust. Take bread y-grated, and add thereto and temper it with the self-broth[36] and mix it with yolks of eggs, and cast thereon powder fort,[37] and boil it and do thereto powder of ginger, saffron, and salt, and look that it is standing,[38] and flour it all with powder of ginger." The lavish use of eggs, pork, and chickens in this recipe could be paralleled in many others, and is evidently to be connected with the custom of receiving manorial dues in kind at stated intervals. Hundreds of eggs would be sent in by the tenants at Easter, and the problem of the housekeeper would not be how to lessen the consumption of eggs in order to keep down the bills, but how to get through those in store before they were hopelessly spoiled. For the earlier period menus are not available, but a curious rhymed treatise on servants' duties dating from the middle of the fifteenth century, entitled "John Russell's Boke of Nurture," has been reprinted by the Early English Lent Society[39] in the volume entitled "Meals and Manners of the Olden Time," and from it I extract the following:-- Furst set forth mustard and brawne of boore, the wild swine, Suche pottage as the cooke hath made of herbis, spice, and wine, Beef, mutton, stewed feysaund, swan with the chawdyn[40] Capoun, pigge, venisoun bake, leche lombard,[41] fritter, viant fine, And then a soteltie.[42] Maydon Marie that holy Virgin And Gabrielle greeting her with an ave. This is followed by two other courses rather lighter in character, though still including venison, peacocks, quails, &c., and then comes dessert: After this delicatis mo, Blanderelle or pepins with caraway in confite, Wayfurs to eat, hypocras[43] to drink with delite. The service in the wealthy mediæval manor was as elaborate as the cooking, at all events in the later period. The Bishop of Lincoln finds it necessary to warn the Countess of Lincoln not to permit slovenliness among her retainers. She is not to allow "old tabards, and soiled herigauts, and imitation short-hose." But even this widow lady is served with considerable pomp. "Command that your panter[44] with the bread and your butler[45] with the cup, come before you to the table foot by foot before grace and that three valets be assigned by the marshal each day to serve the high table and the two tables at the side with drink. And at each course call the servers to go to the kitchen, and they themselves to go always before your seneschal as far as you until the dishes be set before you, and see that all servants with meats go orderly and without noise to one part and another of the hall to those who shall be assigned to divide the meats, so that nothing be placed or served disorderly."[46] In the "Boke of Nurture," which refers of course to a much later period, the service is even more elaborate, and we gather indeed that the dinner was a social function at which all classes of the community met together. Even the poorest were not forgotten, as there was a special officer whose business it was to distribute alms of broken meats to the beggars waiting at the door. The rules of precedence were most elaborate, and the serving seems on special occasions to have risen almost to the rank of a solemn ritual. In addition, dinner was accompanied by music and sometimes enlivened at intervals by pageants and shows. Domestic service in these great households was very different from what it is to-day. There was, in the first place, no fixed line drawn as there is now between the menial and the non-menial classes of the community. The higher servants were often people of nearly the same social rank as those whom they served. Sir William de Mortimer was the head-steward of Bishop Swinfield, Sir Gilbert Brydges the steward of Gloucester Abbey.[47] Young men who entered the service of a lord might one day be called on to carve or serve wine, and the next day might sit at meat in the same room.[48] Through the account-books and the household ordinances of the period, we can trace four grades of household servants--squires or gentlemen, valets or yeomen, grooms, and pages. The last grade had been recently introduced into the royal household in Edward IV.'s time, and they did not eat in hall. "A page etyth in his office or with his next fellow, not in the halle at noe place, taking dayly one lofe, one messe of great meate, half a gallon of ale; one reward quarterly in the counting-house, twenty pence of clothing when the household hathe at every one of the four feasts, one napron of one elle and part of the King's great rewards given yearly amongst them in household."[49] The last quotation illustrates also the method of remuneration. The money received was a very minor and unimportant factor. The servants were paid mostly in kind, and the share of each in food, fuel, and clothing is very fully and carefully stated. The chief porter of the Abbey of Gloucester, for instance, had a chamber next to the abbey gate. His weekly allowance was three white loaves, called myches, and two called holyers, with seven loaves of squire bread; for ale every quarter 3s. 4d. On every flesh or fish day he had a mess of flesh or fish of the first course, as much as was set before two monks. He had a gown every year of the suit of the gentlemen of the Lord Abbot, and in addition 13s. 4d. per annum. These fixed rations of food clothing &c., are called livery, a term now restricted to clothing alone. It is noticeable that these servants are almost all men. Washerwomen (lotrices) are women, and there are occasionally notices of young girls in attendance on the lady of the house. But so far as our information goes, cooking and cleaning and serving are carried on by men, though mention is made of women pastry-cooks who in monasteries, to avoid scandal, had to be accommodated in a separate kitchen, called the pudding-house.[50] But in the Middle Ages domestic service was not, as it is now, regarded as a menial occupation to be left, save in some of its higher branches, exclusively to women. I can find no trace at this period of any difficulty in obtaining service. Bishop Grossetête assures the Countess of Lincoln that she can easily obtain servers if she needs them, and the young men addressed in the rhyming exhortations preserved in "Meals and Manners" evidently regard it as promotion almost beyond their hopes to become members of a lord's household. Whether this would be equally the case if we had information about the smaller households, it is not easy to say. But when we remember that the alternatives were laborious and monotonous work at agriculture or the chance of finding a place in the gilds or fraternities which monopolised the trade in towns at that period, we can believe that the plentiful fare, the lively society, and the not too strenuous[51] work required of a serving-groom or yeoman would be regarded as a prize worth striving for and worth keeping. It would be interesting, had I more space at my disposal, to discuss mediæval town life and the domestic arrangements of the monasteries, which are very fully and interestingly described in Abbé Gasquet's book, "English Monastic Life." But I must content myself solely with one or two extracts illustrating the household furniture of the mediæval town-dwellers. In 1303, a certain Alan de Bedeford, a baker of London, was sold up for arrears of taxes, and the following were the goods seized by the inexorable tax-gatherer: "One brass pot weighing 18 lbs., value 2s. 6d., and another brass pot weighing 13 lbs., value 21d., and one kettle value 14d., the total whereof amounts to 5s 5d."[52] In 1337, an inventory was preserved of the goods of a felon. It was probably exhaustive, and may therefore be taken as indicating with tolerable precision the standard of household comfort of a London burgess at that time. It is too long to quote in full (the list of garments in particular is rather tedious), but it is interesting to note that it includes a mattress, three feather-beds, five cushions, six blankets, seven linen-sheets, four table-cloths, six whole brass pots of varying value and one broken one, one candlestick and two plates of metal, two basins and one washing-vessel, a spit, a frying-pan, and a funnel.[53] Further study of wills and inventories would yield a fresh store of information with regard to mediæval household equipment, and might not improbably upset some preconceived ideas as to the ordinary standard of life at that time. (_b_) THE POSITION OF THE HOUSEHOLD FROM THE FIFTEENTH TO THE NINETEENTH CENTURIES (1) _The First Industrial Revolution and its Effects_ The fifteenth century and the beginning of the sixteenth century were marked by great economic changes. The manorial system, modified before this period by the gradual commutation of labour dues and especially by the catastrophe of the Black Death, was replaced on the one hand by enclosures for sheep-farming and on the other by convertible husbandry, when the farmer possessed or rented his own separate holding and managed it as he pleased, using the same land alternately for pasturage and as arable.[54] At the same time, the gild organisation of industry was replaced by the system commonly known as domestic manufacture. This spread largely in the country districts, and profoundly influenced home life and the position of women. At the same time both home and foreign trade greatly increased, and "natural economy" was almost entirely replaced by "money economy," the necessities of life being no longer produced by the family for their own use; men worked instead for payment, and then with the money so earned bought in the market the goods they required.[55] These changes, like the corresponding changes at the end of the eighteenth century, brought greater wealth and pomp to some classes, increased comfort to the bulk of the people, but called into existence a new class of landless labourers, whose needs and importunities finally led to the establishment of the poor-law. It would require a volume to describe how these changes reflected themselves in the daily life of the people, and at present I must content myself with noting very briefly the main effects of this first industrial revolution. In the country two classes appeared: the labourer, who, although he might possess a small piece of land of his own[56] or at the least had grazing rights over a neighbouring common, yet depended for his livelihood on the wages paid by his master. So far I have not discovered any reliable source of information with regard to the family expenditure of this class.[57] Next there was the farmer either renting or owning a farm. Very often farming would be combined with spinning or weaving wool. Agriculture of this kind, partly for subsistence and partly for the market, supplemented by the practice of domestic industries, remained the dominant type in England until the introduction of capitalist farming in the eighteenth century, and indeed can still be found in backward districts. The part played in it by women can be illustrated by a curious account of the duties of the wife of a husbandman given in Fitzherbert's "Book of Husbandry" (1534). "First in a morning when thou art waked and purposiste to rise, lyfte up thy hands and blesse thee.... And when thou art up and redy, then first sweep thy house, dress up thy dysshe-board, and sette all things in good order within thy house. Milk thy kye, suckle thy calves, sye up thy mylke, take up thy children and array them, and provide for thy husband's brekefaste, dinner, souper, and thy children and servants, and take thy part with them. And to ordayne corn and malt to the myll, to bake and brue withal whanne need is. And meete it to the mill and fro the mill, and see that thou have thy measure again beside the toll or else the miller dealeth not truly with the or els thy corn is not drye as it should be. Thou must make butter or cheese whan thou maist, serve thy swyne both morning and evening, and give thy poleyn[58] meat in the morning, and when tyme of the year cometh, thou must take heed how thy duckes henne and geese do lay and to gather up their eggs and when they wax brodie to get them.... And in the beginning of March or a little before is time for a wife to make her garden and to gette as many good seedes and herbes as she can and specially such as be good for the potte and to eat. [Then come lengthy and technical directions for sowing and working up flax and hemp] and thereof may they make shetes, bordclothes, towels, shirts, smocks and such other necessaries and therefore let thy distaff be always ready for a pastime that thou be not idle.... It is convenient for a husband to have shepe of his owne for many causes, and then maye his wife have part of the woll to make her husband and herself some clothes. And at the very least way she may have the locks of the sheep either to make clothes or blankets or coverlets or both. And if she have no wool of her own, she may take wool to spyn of cloth-makers and by that means she may have a convenient living.... It is a wife's occupation to wynowe all manner of corns, to make malt, to wasshe and wrynge, to make haye, shere corn, and in tiyme of nede to help her husband to fyll the muck-wain or dung-cart, drive the plough, to load hay, corn or such other. And to go or ride to the market, to sell butter, cheese, eggs, chekyns, capons, hennes, pigs, geese, and all manner of corns, and also to bye all manner of necessary things belonging to the household and to make a trewe reckoning and account to her husband what she hath paid. And if the husband go to the market to bye or sell, as they oft do, he then to show his wife in like manner." It is interesting to note in this extract the mixture of natural and money economy, the appearance of domestic manufactures, and the energetic co-operation of the wife in the work of the farm. The sixteenth century would have had little sympathy with the sentimentalists who hold that womanhood in itself is a burden so heavy that all active occupations should be forbidden to the married woman. According to Harrison[59] the standard of comfort among the agricultural classes rose markedly at this time. Chimneys became common, pewter plates and silver or tin spoons are used in place of "tinn platters and wooden spoons." A farmer thinks his gains very small "if he have not a fair garnish of pewter on his cupboard, with so much more in odd vessels going about the house, three or four feather-beds, so manie coverlids or carpets of tapestry, a silver salt, a bowl for wine if not a whole nest, and a dozen of spoons to furnish up the suit." Food, too, according to Harrison, was plentiful and varied. The increase in pasture farming and the decrease in arable land had made meat (often, it is true, salted) cheaper and corn-stuffs dearer, at least in proportion. This tendency can be traced in the menus and accounts of the period, and certainly appears in the following extract:[60] "The artificers and husbandmen make greatest account of such food as they may soonest come by and have it quickliest ready. Their food also consisteth principallie in beef and such meat as the butcher selleth; that is to saie, mutton, veal, lamb, pork, whereof he findeth great store in the markets adjoining, besides souse,[61] brawn, bacon, fruit, pies of fruit, fowles of sundrie sort, cheese, butter, eggs." A little lower down he notes that venison and a cup of wine are luxuries reserved for special occasions. It is not easy to estimate the worth of Harrison's testimony to the social habits of a class which he did not probably know intimately. It is certain, too, that he was not speaking here of the poorest class of labourers,[62] those who later recruited the class eligible for poor-law relief. But even making these admissions, his words seem to be evidence of a standard of comfort higher in some respects than could be attained by the corresponding classes to-day. Chicken, for instance, practically never forms part of the dietary of even the well-to-do urban artisan of the present time. In the organisation of the wealthy household, the economic changes of the time produced important alterations. The increase in buying and selling made the landlords more anxious to dispose of their surplus produce in the markets, and on the other hand provided new luxuries on which money could be spent. There resulted a tendency, which can be traced in all the household books of the period, to limit the numbers of servants and retainers. At the same time there was a growing desire for privacy, and a widening gulf between the upper and the lower classes of society. Hence the hall, the general assembly-place for the entire household, lost its importance; dining-rooms and withdrawing-rooms for the exclusive use of the family and guests, took its place, and the servants were relegated to their own part of the house. Partly as cause of this, partly as effect, domestic administration ceases to be a career for men of better social rank, a tendency which would of course be intensified by the fact that in commerce, in literature, in exploration, &c., new opportunities were perpetually being opened up. Hence Elizabeth's reign is a turning-point for the history both of domestic service and of domestic architecture. It was probably about this time that women superseded men as cooks and cleaners, and it is certain that the increase in Elizabeth's reign of industries worked for profit must have diminished the production for use in the household of many articles of common domestic utility.[63] (2) _Life in the Stuart Period_ For 150 years after the death of Elizabeth no startling changes occur in the organisation of the household or in its economic relations. The marked feature of this period is the existence of domestic manufactures, engaging the head of the household and his family, one or two apprentices, and sometimes a journeyman or two. It was common, indeed all but universal, for the small master manufacturers to board and lodge their employees, as it was common for farmers to board and lodge their labourers. The larger households carried on at home many of the operations--baking, brewing, washing, jam-making--which have now passed to the factory. There was a steady growth of domestic luxury and of convenience. The development of commerce made available new commodities, such as tea, coffee, cocoa, and thereby influenced social life. Furniture became more elegant, and perhaps at the same time more stuffy. It would require much reading and research to elaborate the details of this progress, and for our present purpose it is hardly necessary, as it involved alteration in particulars but not in the general organisation of household economy. The difficulties of finding domestic servants begin, however, to make themselves felt, and are amusingly discussed by such writers as Defoe and Swift. It is at some time during this period that houses are first built in terraces and squares on an identical plan for letting purposes. But there are no sweeping changes, such as mark the eighty years before the accession of Victoria. (3) _The Influence of the Second Industrial Revolution on the Home_ In the last half of the eighteenth century agriculture and industry were once more revolutionised, the former by the introduction of capitalist farming, the rotation of crops, and the further enclosure of common fields, commons, and wastes, the latter by the introduction of machinery and mechanical motor power. For a detailed account of the enormous changes consequent on these new methods of production, I must refer the reader to the special treatises on the subject,[64] but we must spend some time in considering the ways in which the home, family life, and the position of women have been modified by these industrial developments. In the first place, the introduction of machinery meant the growth of the factory system, and in consequence work left the home, which ceased to be the institution where productive industry was carried on, and became instead a centre solely of emotional and domestic life. At the same time, the alteration in the land system made it impossible any longer to combine home weaving, spinning, &c. with subsistence farming; the worker becomes an employee in a business where the capital is owned by his employer, and he depends absolutely on the skill of his own hands for his livelihood. Nothing could be more curious than to contrast Defoe's celebrated picture of the wool-weaving districts of Yorkshire[65] with those districts in their present condition. Then the workers, semi-independent, farming small enclosures of two to six or seven acres, laboriously produced cloth by hand processes in their own houses. Now they work in enormous factories, fitted up with machinery which can spin and weave wool both easier and better than in earlier days. They return to their homes for rest and leisure alone. Work for wages and the home are now separated, and, unless the use of cheap electrical power brings about a counter-revolution, are likely to remain so. At the same time, since mobility is in modern economic conditions of prime importance, it is becoming less and less common for the manual worker, or indeed for the citizen of any class, to own his house, and therefore the new trade of the speculative builder comes into existence, its place being taken in some cases, specially in mining districts, by the "company" houses provided by masters for their employees. These alterations in the framework of society inevitably influenced home life, which was still further affected at a later period by an analogous movement. Not merely the work done for wages left the home, but also many of the commodities formerly produced for its own use by each household came to be made by outside labour. A very interesting and quite untouched field of inquiry here awaits the economist. Why, for instance, is it customary to bake bread at home in some districts and to buy it from a shop in others? Probably the explanation is to be found in the relative cheapness of fuel. Yorkshire and the North of England are close to abundant coalfields, and in the days before cheap and quick transit the difference in the price of coal in the South and North of England must have been even greater. At a time, too, before the improvement of ovens, owing to the introduction of the iron range and kitchener, the amount of fuel used for baking bread would be even larger than at present. Therefore in the south there grew up a race of housekeepers and servants unskilled in the making of the delicious, crusty home-baked loaf, while in the north, even though conditions have changed, the tradition still remains, and the weekly or bi-weekly baking day is a regular institution. But this theory does not explain why bread is not baked at home in Scotland, even in Glasgow and the districts near it, or in Fife, which are all situated right in the coal-bearing areas. And at present there is little material for describing how brewing, jam and cake-making, biscuit-making, the making and the washing of clothes, the cleaning of furniture and carpets, &c., passed from the household to the factory and laundry. It is a process which has evidently been much quickened by the growth of town life, itself one of the most important effects of the industrial revolution.[66] The aggregation of population in towns in the first place made the space available for household operations much smaller than was the case when the kitchen was supplemented by rows of outhouses, a green and a garden. In modern conditions, washing at home results in the discomfort of the whole family, whether that family lives in a single room or in a decent middle-class house of ten or twelve rooms. In the second place, the massing into a comparatively small area of a homogeneous population makes it easy to arrange for other methods of cleansing clothes, either in the working-class districts by the provision of municipal washing-houses, or in the more well-to-do suburbs through the appearance of steam laundries. In the same way, when each household possessed a garden it was natural to pick the fruit and make it into jam. It is a different thing to buy fruit specially for the purpose. Many housewives find that when the cost of the fruit, sugar, and extra fuel is calculated, taking into account also the dislocation of the regular routine of the household caused by the extra work, it pays them better to buy the jam ready-made. On the other hand, the use of machinery, the existence of cheap methods of transit, and the multiplication of grocers' shops makes it increasingly possible to produce jam in large quantities actually cheaper than it can be made at home, and to distribute it quickly to the consumer. The same cause, acting within and without the home in different ways, is resulting in a steady transference of these domestic avocations from the household. Moralists often lament this tendency, and attribute it entirely to increased love of ease and leisure among women. But it is no more possible to draw an indictment against a whole sex than against a whole people, and an alteration in custom so widespread as this which we are discussing must have deeper roots than a personal defect of laziness in particular individuals. This removal of production for domestic use from the home operates, however, in very different ways in different cases. Sometimes the article is produced much more cheaply outside the home than within, owing to the lower cost and greater efficiency of large-scale methods of manufacture. But this is not invariably the case. Laundry-work, for instance, is probably done more cheaply in the private household. The few attempts hitherto made to provide hot cooked food from a central kitchen at a reasonable price have not been successful. On the other hand, no individual household could hope to rival Messrs. Huntley & Palmer as producers of biscuits. The factors which prevent the full economies of the large-scale method of production from being realised in the making of certain commodities are twofold. (1) Some goods are of such a kind that they must be consumed where they are produced. Jam or even plum-puddings can be made in a factory in the North of England and afterwards transferred to London. But roast beef, omelettes, and rice-puddings must be eaten within at least a hundred yards of the place where they are cooked. This obvious fact effectually retains the supremacy of the home in the provision of hot cooked food, and disposes once and for all of the cruder arguments for co-operative housekeeping. (2) Certain commodities must be made for or returned to individual owners. If, for instance, we did not trouble to receive our own sheets and towels from the laundry, but simply made a contract that each week we should be supplied with a certain number, then the washing and sorting could be done wholesale at a much cheaper rate. If we sent our own fruit to the factories to be made into jam, jam would be much more expensive. Thus the household will compete successfully with outside agencies, in the case of all commodities which must be consumed on the spot, and the outside agencies will have only a small advantage--will do the washing or dressmaking more conveniently, but not much cheaper--when wholesale methods are forbidden by the personal interest of each consumer in one special portion of the commodities dealt with.[67] Still, regarding the matter from the general economic standpoint, it cannot be denied that the result of the industrial revolution has been to transfer many branches of production both for profit and for use from the home to the factory. (4) _The Position of Women as Affected by the Industrial Revolution_ This in its turn affected the position of women, and is probably, if not the sole, at least the most important reason for the discontent and unrest to be traced among women of many different classes in the nineteenth century. But the women belonging to the manual labouring class and the women belonging to the upper classes were influenced in different ways. The former had always been accustomed to work for their living, indirectly if not directly. On the little farms they looked after the cow, the hens, and the garden. They did the carding and the spinning of flax and of wool. True, these industries were carried on at home, and probably the decent "manufacturer," then literally a hand-worker, would have regarded himself as disgraced had his wife or daughters needed to go outside his home to find work.[68] But when the factory system came, with the horrible sufferings caused by the transition from one system of industry to another, the women and children always accustomed to toil at home followed their work to the factory, and there, owing to the new methods of competition and to the absence of any regulation of industry, they suffered hardships of overwork and underpayment which seem to the present generation nearly incredible. Home life for a time almost disappeared, and the suffering and degeneration was only checked by the series of Factory Acts, imposing ever fresh and fresh restrictions on the treatment of women and children.[69] The policy underlying these acts was much criticised at the time, and was indeed not fully comprehended until recently. But it is now all but universally admitted that the Factory Acts have in the main achieved their object, and have greatly improved the position of women in the districts most affected by them; and reformers are constantly urging their extension to fresh trades. This movement was not understood, and was in consequence opposed by the women of the middle-classes, whose position was affected quite differently by the industrial revolution. They too found their occupations within the home to a large extent destroyed. And in other ways their situation was altered. For some reason not yet explained, there appeared in the middle-classes a surplus of women. This is no doubt partly due to the colonial expansion of the period, which sent young men out to Australia, Canada, and South Africa, while their natural mates remained behind in England. It is not easy to give precise statistics, as our statistical tables make no distinction of classes, but common observation and the description of social life in the novels of the nineteenth century afford evidence of this fact. Some statistics bearing on the subject can be found in Miss Clara Collet's[70] article, "Prospects of Marriage for Women," and also in "Die Frauenfrage," by Lilie Braun, pp. 157 _ff._ Frau Braun, whose book is marked throughout by characteristic German thoroughness, sums up:[71] "Es hat sich gezeigt, dass die Zunahme der allein stehenden Frauen, die Abnahme der Heiratsfrequenz und die wirtschaftliche Not als Ursache der Frauenbewegung in aller Lände anzusehen sind." But it was not merely the decreased chance of marriage which made the lives of middle-class women difficult in the last century. There was also a change in the position of the fathers, which decreased their opportunity for providing for their unmarried daughters. The middle-class man is now less and less frequently at the head of a business of his own, and is more and more frequently a salaried clerk, manager, or engineer. Formerly the shop or farm when it passed to the eldest son was burdened with the charge of the spinster sisters, who often would help in the dairy or behind the counter. Now, when a middle-class man dies, his hold on the industrial world, so to speak, passes away with him, unless he has been at once able and willing to lay by savings out of his salary, a duty too often neglected. Briefly, therefore, the unmarried woman of the middle-classes is less likely to marry, has less to occupy her at home, and cannot so easily be provided for by her father if she remains a spinster. Is it then to be wondered at if women insist, in increasing numbers, upon a thorough education as well as the right to enter a profession in which they can be self-supporting?[72] But the first women who decided that a way must be opened by which they could earn for themselves honourable maintenance not unnaturally fell into what we cannot but regard now as regrettable mistakes, however unavoidable these errors may have been at the time. Their great difficulties were to win admission to the universities and permission to practise what had hitherto been regarded as men's professions. Therefore they dreaded all restrictions liable to be laid upon the entrance of women to occupations, and were led in consequence to oppose the Factory Acts, designed for the protection of women of the working-classes. It is only to-day and only partially that the woman teacher, doctor, or journalist has come to understand that the position and problems of the factory-hand are very different from her own, and that confusion is created if she insists on judging them from her own standpoint. In the next place, they were almost forced to become masculine and aggressive in their manners and outlook upon life. In particular, the need of conformity to a system of education framed for men and not for women led to an undervaluation of domestic pursuits. It was not realised that in managing a household and in bringing up children there was scope for the most developed character and the finest education. But with the twentieth century,[73] college-trained women themselves are coming to see that their previous neglect of those principles of science and economics which underlie household administration was unwise and unwarranted. Of that change of attitude, the new courses in home science at King's College are the firstfruits, and this book is a small contribution to a movement which is destined, perhaps, to revolutionise housekeeping, as a band of devoted women succeeded some few years since in revolutionising the profession of nursing. The main lines on which the influence of the industrial revolution on women's position has operated can be but briefly indicated in this very summary sketch. Want of space prevents me from doing more than allude to other aspects of the question, such as the employment of married women, the status of women in government offices, women's trade unions, homework and sweating, the prevention of infant mortality, the work of women in the administration of charity and in local government, together with many other developments of the one cause--the alteration between the relations of the home and of society due to the changes in our commercial and manufacturing system. I must turn now to a study of the economics of the household as it actually exists to-day. III. THE PRESENT ORGANISATION OF THE HOUSEHOLD To begin with, it is perhaps worth while to notice certain broad distinctions which differentiate the household, considered merely as an economic institution, from other agencies engaged in the production of commodities and services. One main difference is, as was noticed earlier, that the household produces use-values, and all other organisations (save some public bodies) exchange-values. Or to put the same thing in another way, the industrial world is run to make a profit; the household, on the contrary, is kept up by the contributions of its members, and exists to provide for them the necessaries and comforts of life. None the less is the work of cooking, cleaning, and serving of real economic value when carried on within the household, as people discover when they have to pay for the organisation of the same services in hotels or boarding-houses. The second great distinction is that while any other business may expand to meet the demands of a growing market, and as a result of the increasing competency of its organiser and work-people, the household is definitely limited in scope by the numbers of the family included within it. Biscuit-makers or jam-makers, to put the matter concretely, may succeed by skilful management in enlarging their businesses until they supply their goods to hundreds of thousands of people, and earn a large profit by doing so. But the most efficient housekeeper continues all her life to organise and cater for the same number of people, and her reward for her good management does not consist in a raised salary or increased profits. It is, in fact, not pecuniary at all, but is the increased well-being of those whom she serves. Important consequences follow from these two distinctions, some of them desirable, others the reverse. The household is preserved, as it were, as a little oasis in the midst of the surrounding commercialism. There at least exists no temptation to adulteration or sophistication, or to shoddy work intended to sell but not to last. No housewife would be such a fool as to put alum in the bread baked at home, to use decaying fruit in the tarts, or questionable meat in her pies. She can have no object save to provide the best she can for her family with the means at her disposal. This is an enormous advantage, the value of which it is hardly possible to overrate. But the absence of profit-making has certain disadvantages. It means that while other economic organisations are being constantly spurred to increasing efficiency by the stimulus of competition, the household remains backward. A manufacturer knows to-day that he must use the most up-to-date machinery and employ the most skilled management or be beaten in the race for commercial supremacy. But housekeepers may continue (and do continue) to use old-fashioned ranges or antiquated systems of hot-water heating without any reference to the proceedings of their neighbours. Without doubt it results that new inventions make their way much more slowly in housekeeping than in profit-making industry. How rare, for instance, it is to find properly constructed grates outside very wealthy households. How badly the kitchen, larder, and scullery are planned in relation to one another. In how few cases is any attempt made to utilise electricity for cooking or removing dust, for both of which purposes admirable machines are already on the market. But there are other factors which also contribute to the backwardness of domestic engineering. The smallness of the household is one. It pays a large hotel, for instance, to buy special machines for cleaning knives, or to instal superheated steam, for washing plates and dishes. But neither the initial expense nor the cost of running could be met out of the funds at the disposal of the small household. Another reason exists in the fact that the average housewife does not distinguish between annual and capital outlay. Unaccustomed to finance, and keeping accounts--if she keeps them at all--in a very amateurish fashion, she fails to understand that capital expenditure, let us say, on one of the little electric vacuum cleaners now on the market might pay for itself in a short time by saving the wages of a charwoman. (_a_) THE ORGANISATION OF THE HOUSEHOLD AS AFFECTED BY THE HOUSING QUESTION Then, finally, few people own their houses, and are therefore disinclined to make an outlay which would benefit their successors rather than themselves. Landlords (who are frequently retired tradesmen or elderly ladies depending on the rent of a row of houses for their sole income) are in their turn unprogressive and unenlightened. It is often hard to induce a landlord of the type indicated to consent to structural changes even if carried out at the tenant's expense. The builders of new houses, again, are not, to put it mildly, educated in the best schools of household architecture and domestic engineering. It is true that in some suburbs, largely under the influence of the more competent architects employed by the garden city organisations, a marked improvement in domestic building is noticeable. But only too often the hot-water system is inefficient, the ventilation poor, the grates wasteful, and so on. I have never yet heard of a speculative builder who deliberately planned the laying out of the streets in the area which he was developing in such a way that the living-rooms might have a maximum and the larder and pantries a minimum of sunlight. The new roads are usually all set at right angles to the main street, and the houses rigidly planted square to the roads, regardless of the points of the compass. All these factors, acting together, prevent that general improvement in the construction of houses which is noticeable in other branches of industry. Progress does, of course, take place. The pressure exercised by the local health authorities leads to improved drainage and plumbing; lighting, owing to the recent competition between gas and electricity, has become both cheaper and better. But an intelligent application of science and investment of capital when a house is under construction could easily effect still further improvements. Since, however, the household is not influenced by the ordinary processes of competition, advance will probably depend on some form of co-operation among tenants. The principle of tenant co-partnership has hitherto been applied only to the construction of working-class houses, but there seems to be no reason why it should be not equally useful among the middle classes. The advantages of the organisation are that it secures to the tenant a well-built house, sometimes specially constructed to meet his wishes, while his complete mobility is not interfered with as it is by ownership of his dwelling. These apparently opposed results are obtained by the formation of a company which is the legal owner of the land and the houses; but no one is allowed to rent a house until he invests a certain amount of money in the company. Thus there are two classes of shareholders--tenant shareholders and ordinary shareholders. If a man wishes to move from the neighbourhood, then he ceases to be a tenant and becomes only an ordinary shareholder, and if he needs the money he can always sell out. Rent is paid in the ordinary way, and so too are dividends on the shares. Thus groups of people are enabled to control the conditions under which they are housed, without being hampered by the possession of a dwelling-house, which in an emergency they may be forced to sell at a serious loss. Minor advantages are greater cheapness of construction owing to wholesale buying of materials, and the provision of a more liberal repair fund than is contemplated by the ordinary landlord. It is possible, too, to provide common tennis courts, children's playgrounds, pleasure gardens, &c., which are kept up out of the general funds of the company.[74] The "co-partnership tenants'" villages at Bournville, Hampstead, Ealing, &c., are all doing well,[75] and we may venture to hope that if the same principle were applied to the housing of the middle classes, the worst horrors of the dreary and yet pretentious suburbs constructed by the speculative builder would soon be checked. (_b_) THE PROBLEMS OF DOMESTIC SERVICE The position of the domestic servant is the next subject which demands consideration. It is a question which has aroused much acrimonious controversy, mistresses accusing maids of ignorance and inefficiency, maids objecting in their turn to the menial position and lack of freedom involved in domestic service. Yet it is curious to notice that the conditions of this branch of work have been little studied by the economist. The number of domestic servants as enumerated in the census of 1901 was 1,330,783, the largest single occupation in the country.[76] But while dozens of books and blue-books could be named discussing the position of the textile worker or the agricultural labourer, not more than three or four investigators have concerned themselves with the domestic servant, on whose efficiency our health and comfort absolutely depend. Another curious anomaly is that domestic servants are becoming fewer in proportion to the population, although the level of their wages is very high in comparison with the usual payments for women's work. Between 1881 and 1901 female indoor servants increased from 1,230,406 to 1,330,783, an increase of 8.2 per cent., while the population increased 25.2 per cent. Actually, then, there was a smaller proportion of the population engaged in domestic service in 1901 then in 1881.[77] What is still more remarkable is that at the younger ages the number has actually decreased. Between the ages 15-20, there is a decrease of 7.3 per cent., while in the number of females living at those ages there is an increase of 28.1 per cent. This suggests that the difficulty of finding servants will intensify as time goes on, as is indeed borne out by observation. Other women's industries are growing very rapidly. The number of female clerks more than trebled between 1891 and 1901. In the same period, female elementary school teachers increased by over 50 per cent., and the women engaged in hospital and institution service and in workhouses and workhouse infirmaries by 41 per cent. These facts indicate that domestic service is becoming less and less popular and is losing ground, while other women's industries are gaining. It is our duty then to consider the causes of this state of things, which cannot be regarded with equanimity. Our steadily increasing wealth ought to make it more and more possible and desirable for more women to specialise in those basic industries of cooking and cleaning, which are of the utmost importance for the right ordering of life. The question must be treated in reference to the general industrial and social changes of our time. Many ladies, knowing nothing of economics, discuss the matter as one of personal relations only, and when they find themselves annoyed with one incompetent servant after another, content themselves with blaming the servants as individuals without inquiring whether the difficulty has any deeper root. Or they take up a reactionary attitude, and declare that the lower classes are over-educated and too well off, and are in consequence refusing to perform their natural duties. But neither personal blame nor the semi-feudal belief that the one and only rightful destiny of daughters of bricklayers, coal miners, or small clerks is to become cooks or housemaids in the service of their betters will avail to throw any light on the difficulty of obtaining competent domestic workers. We must study carefully and without bias the conditions of that industry as compared with other industries, in order to solve the problem. In the first place, we may note the advantages of domestic service. It is, as has been already observed, well paid. Some investigations carried out by a group of my students last year led to the conclusion that the ordinary cook, housemaid, or general servant in middle-class households costs her employer in wages, food, house-room, heating, lighting, and insurance about £50 a year.[78] I have been informed by a lady accustomed to deal with servants in a wealthy household, that board wages are usually 14s. 6d. for men servants, and 12s. 6d. and 10s. 6d. for women servants. When we remember that in the ranks from which servants are drawn,[79] a workman is comparatively well off if he is earning 35s. a week for the support of himself and his family, and that a woman who makes £1 a week is a rarity,[80] we should expect to find domestic service one of the industries in which the supply outruns the demand. Again, there is no period of apprenticeship or training necessary. The servant earns from the first day she enters service, and is often carefully trained by a mistress in cooking or waiting at table, only to leave that mistress for a better situation the moment she thoroughly understands her duties. Again, in many households the maids share in the family holidays. They spend a month at the seaside or in the country, having all their travelling expenses paid as a matter of course. Their allowance of personal holidays may not be large, but at all events their wages run on without interruption. These advantages are the more remarkable, when it is considered that they have been attained without the aid of any trade organisations at all. Trade unions for domestic workers have been formed from time to time, but their life has been ephemeral and their membership of the smallest. High wages, practically continuous employment, food and lodging usually of a standard much above that in the servant's own home--all these are to be found in domestic work. Why, then, does it remain unpopular? In the first place, the hours are long and irregular. A domestic servant, especially in a place where only one or two are kept, is "on duty" for at least fifteen hours a day--from 7 A.M. to 10 P.M. Even meal-hours are not free from interruption. The thoughtful mistress, it is true, will not summon her maids at dinner-time or supper-time if she can help it, but all mistresses are not thoughtful, and in any case there is the doorbell to be answered. Much of the work is not hard; in a well-managed household there should always be an hour or two of comparative leisure in the afternoon and again in the evening. But the average maid is never sufficiently free through the whole day to go out without asking leave, or to lie down for an hour should her morning work have been unusually heavy. Of some households a much blacker picture could be painted. Not merely do the maids have no leisure, but they are actually hard at work washing, cooking, ironing, serving meals, washing up, carrying coals and hot water, &c., for even a larger period than the fifteen hours which, as noted before, is the minimum of time "on duty." These hours compare very unfavourably with the six or seven hours' day of the elementary school-teacher, the eight hours' day of the Civil servant, and the nine or ten hours worked in factories and in offices. Next, there is the lack of personal freedom. This may seem a mere sentimental objection not to be weighed in the balance for a moment by sensible persons as against the solid advantages of domestic work. But sentimental objections count more decisively with women than with men. Miss B. L. Hutchins points out in a recent article that respectable girls of the working class often accept quite low wages, provided only their employment is light, clean, comfortable, and affords abundant hours of leisure. And women enter on domestic service exactly at the age at which freedom and some amount of leisure seem more valuable than high wages. Doubtless in later years many sweated drudges have wished that they had become servants instead of entering the jam-factory or the steam-laundry. But at sixteen and seventeen, when the choice was made, the situation appeared very different. I have very little doubt that one of the greatest objections to domestic service is that it removes the young woman from her own class just at the marriageable age, and therefore decreases her chances of marriage, while in some ill-governed households and in hotel and restaurant service she may be subjected to severe temptation. The widening of the gulf between rich and poor and their segregation into distinct districts increases this disadvantage. Again, there is the fact that domestic service is strangely enough regarded as a peculiarly menial occupation, in itself a mark of a lower social grade. This is indicated by the use of the Christian name, the insistence on a uniform, and the commonness of contemptuous terms such as "slavey." Refined people are careful to avoid the use even of the word "servant," replacing it by "maid," so strong is this connotation of inferiority. Here again we are on sentimental grounds. But it certainly seems undesirable, in view of the spread of doctrines of social equality, that this suggestion of a low social status should cling around the person who undertakes such important duties as cooking and washing. Another disadvantage is the loneliness of domestic servants. In other occupations women have colleagues and companions. The general servant, coming as she does from a lively even if poor working-class home, with neighbours at hand for gossip in moments of relaxation, may find it very hard to bear up against the restraint and unnatural quietude of her first place,[81] and often ends by returning in haste to the factory industry she had been persuaded to abandon, when she will find the gaiety and lively society of girls and young men of her own age. Even when two maids are kept, they may not be congenial to one another, and one cannot deny that to share work, meals, and often bed with a woman whom one has reason to dislike, is a fate we would all wish to avoid. Girls of higher status and more intelligence are often turned from domestic service by the fact that it affords little or no opportunity for self-improvement or recreation, or for promotion inside its own ranks. Servants cannot go to lectures or evening classes. The servant's piano or bicycle is a common theme for jesting in the comic papers. In a large household or in a hotel promotion may be obtained, but the maid who becomes a general servant or a single-handed cook reaches the limit of her increase in income at an early age. Many of the disadvantages noted do not apply to large households. There companionship is to be found, and promotion may be looked for. The hours are more regular, meals less interrupted, and free time easier to obtain. Hence I was not surprised when I questioned proprietors of clubs, residential hotels, and the mistresses of wealthy households to learn that most of them considered the servant difficulty to be greatly exaggerated. The housekeeper of one suite of residential flats told me she had no trouble at all in getting servants, and that she sent them off at a week's notice if they proved unsatisfactory. "Even if I cannot get a maid to live in at once," she added, "I can always supplement the work of the others by an extra charwoman. There are any number of outworkers to be had." In another residential hotel all the women servants had two evenings a week free from 5 to 10.30. Here, too, there was never much difficulty in obtaining workers. Another disadvantage of the small as opposed to the large household is that the management is often inefficient, and the equipment poor. In these residential flats, for instance, each suite had its own bathroom and lavatory, and consequently the work of carrying water was reduced to a minimum. I think, too, that the regularity of the discipline is often liked by girls, who find it hard to keep to good ways when they work alone. On the whole, then, I see no reason to believe that domestic service is unpopular because cooking and cleaning are regarded as disagreeable occupations in themselves. It is the conditions under which it is carried on that are disliked, and if mistresses desire to have better servants, those conditions must be altered. Some of them, it must be admitted, are inherent in the present organisation of the household.[82] Some form of co-operation might obviate certain of these defects; in groups of associated homes, the domestic equipment could certainly be improved, skilled supervision and proper discipline could be more easily carried out, and the maids would have the advantages of shorter and more regular hours and of companionship with their equals. Here again it may be possible to apply the co-partnership tenants' organisation. Many people, however, not unnaturally dread the lack of privacy and independence which such a mode of life would, they think, entail, and would prefer to endure the disadvantages of the present system rather than lose control over their own kitchen and their own servants. It is too soon yet to express an opinion. Fortunately, at Letchworth, at Brent Lodge, Finchley, and elsewhere, experiments in the provision of associated homes with a common kitchen and a common staff of servants are shortly to be tried. If successful, they will no doubt prove a boon to many people. In the meantime one can only suggest that mistresses must endeavour individually to mitigate some of the disadvantages of domestic service. It is not higher wages that are needed, but more leisure and more society, and an absence of the foolish snobbery which regards it as an amusing joke that a servant should wish to possess a bicycle or go to a meeting or concert. The suggestion has sometimes been made that distressed gentlewomen might find a refuge in domestic service. But "lady servants" or "mothers' helps" only rarely prove a success. Their presence is inevitably a hindrance to the full enjoyment of family privacy, and often enough their gentility is an excuse for incompetence. But in special cases lady servants turn out well, especially as children's nurses. The most interesting attempt to introduce them into general domestic service is that started by the Guild of the Dames of the Household at Cheltenham. A short period of training is insisted upon, while on the other hand certain privileges not usually conceded to maids must be granted, in particular, a period of two hours each day free from duty. In small and quiet households, specially in those composed of ladies only, a "Dame" would be welcomed in place of the incompetent general servant, or two Dames might take the place of the regulation cook and house-parlour maid. But it would not be easy to have one Dame demanding special privileges and imbued with different traditions in a larger household.[83] Nor do I see any reason to expect that increased provision for domestic training alone is likely to improve the lot of mistresses who want maids. The training in the elementary schools is often given to children too young to profit by it, and is besides designed rather to enable them to be of use in their own homes than to qualify them to become cooks or housemaids in middle or upper-class households. Again, the girls who attend at the special domestic economy schools are not usually available for ordinary domestic service; the greater number of the students are being prepared either for teaching or for positions as housekeepers and matrons. While untrained girls can find a place and wages without any difficulty, working-class parents are not likely to spend money on training for domestic service; and the numbers for whom scholarships are provided must naturally be limited. Improvement is much more likely to result from alterations in the condition of domestic service. If, as regards leisure and social status, that occupation could be put more nearly on a level with other women's trades, the outlook would be much brighter, and then training in domestic economy in continuation schools or trade schools for girls from fourteen to sixteen would be valuable. Failing these reforms, mistresses will probably continue to find themselves obliged to put up with cooks who cannot cook, and housemaids and laundresses who are both ignorant and incompetent. The irk and irritation of living all day long at close quarters with an impertinent and inefficient person, which often severely tries the nerves of the women of the professional classes, will continue. These things are inevitable so long as domestic servants do not choose their occupation because they wish to follow it, but because they have been failures in other directions. Therefore no improvement would be attained by shutting other avenues of employment to women and forcing them back into this. Such a line of action is, of course, quite impracticable, whatever be the difficulties of mothers of families and mistresses of households; factories, offices, shops, elementary schools and post-offices will continue to offer employment to women. But even if it were practicable it would fail of its aim. Work is only well done when it is chosen for its own sake, not when it is unwillingly accepted because the worker is fit for nothing else. And a genuine improvement in domestic service can only come about by an alteration in its conditions. A systematic investigation into English domestic service similar to that carried out in America by Professor Lucy Salmon of Vassar College would be most useful at the present juncture, and may possibly be undertaken by the household economics class at King's College. Professor Salmon issued 5000 schedules to employers and 5000 to employees, and received in all 1744 answers. On the answers received she based the conclusions arrived at in her book, "Domestic Service," which are not dissimilar to those set forth in the preceding paragraphs. Conditions in America are, however, so unlike those in England that a separate investigation for this country would be most valuable. (_c_) A DISCUSSION OF DOMESTIC BUDGETS (1) _Working-Class Budgets_ I have left myself very little space for dealing with another important section of household economics, namely, domestic budgets. Unfortunately the material for a satisfactory study of the actual and the advisable division of household expenditure is only abundant in certain classes. There are a considerable number of investigations into the cost of living among the working-classes.[84] From these it is clear that we must make a very marked line of distinction between the domestic circumstances of labourers and of artisans. The former spend at least from 75 to 80 per cent. of their income on food and lodging alone; yet if the family is of ordinary size and none of the children are earning anything, they are commonly under-nourished and badly lodged. The remainder of the income is devoted to fuel, clothes, savings, insurance, and recreation. Members of this class commonly wear second-hand clothes, and live in tenement houses, originally built for a wealthier section of the community. It is they who send their children to work at any employment that turns up at the earliest moment allowed by the law. The burden laid on the women of this class is peculiarly heavy. They must work for wages if possible, for every extra shilling adds immensely to the family comfort. Hence they go out charing; they undertake ill-paid home work; and at the same time all the toil of keeping the house and children clean and of doing the cooking and washing falls on the mother. Add to this the fact that if the food supply runs short, then the children and the husband have their share first and the mother takes what may be left. It has been calculated[85] that this class amounts to about one-third of the population, and is the source whence comes the greater part of the pauperism with which the country is afflicted. The artisan class was found by Mr. Rowntree to comprise about one-half of the working-class population. Its domestic circumstances differ in several respects from those of the class already described. Food and housing were adequate; and, save in the textile districts, the wife commonly remains at home and the children stay longer at school. It is this class that is the backbone of trade unionism and the co-operative movement; it is in fact the true "middle-class" of Britain. Lady Bell in her book "At the Works" gives a very sympathetic sketch of the home life of the ironworkers of Middlesborough, pointing out that the monotony and narrowness of the lives led by the women and the ugliness of the surroundings of the workers' houses are the main defects from which they suffer. Roughly half their income goes on food, which is plain but adequate. The proportion of rent varies very much from district to district. In York it was 12.8, but in such crowded towns as London and Glasgow it would be higher. There is, however, a surplus sufficient for clothing, saving, holidays, and reasonable recreation. It is conjectured that the excessive expenditure on drink in the United Kingdom[86] must be largely due to this class. But the evidence is insufficient to show whether the labourer or the artisan is the more guilty. (2) _Lower Middle-Class Budgets_ The next class which should be examined is that made up by the clerks and routine brain-workers. As already noted, there is little or no material available for the study of the budgets of this class. The Economic Club published a few years ago a collection of family budgets, four of which might be taken as illustrating the home life of this important section of the community. From these and from the rather unreliable divisions of income given in some of the smaller women's papers, I have come to the conclusion that food absorbs 30 to 40 per cent. of the income, and rent 15 to 20 per cent. The expenditure on clothing is much more liberal, and I am inclined to believe that the poorer clerks are sometimes insufficiently fed. It should be noted that in this class the cost of education tends to be borne by the parent and not by the State; no doubt there is here a genuine grievance, one, however, which the provision of municipal secondary schools is gradually removing. But a thorough and accurate study of the circumstances of the lower middle-class would be of the utmost value at the present time. It is certain that its needs and demands are to some extent at all events overlooked through the increasing power of organised labour on the one hand and the increasing wealth of the upper classes on the other. (3) _The Budget of the Well-to-do_ Probably it is in the budgets of these wealthier classes that the reader of these pages will be most interested from a personal standpoint. Under this head there is very little scientifically collected material; but on the other hand the ladies' papers and the housekeeping handbooks afford considerable information of somewhat varying value. It is in this class that service becomes an important item; it is in this class that the artistic side of life, the enjoyment of physical and intellectual luxury, first becomes possible. In a sense the study of expenditure here is both more useful and more interesting. A fraction of the income would suffice for the satisfaction of the mere physiological needs, and there is a real choice possible in the disposition of the surplus. Therefore, in the case of these larger incomes, I propose to discuss rather the general principles of expenditure than the statistical facts. The latter are not thoroughly reliable, and at the same time the circumstances of the class in question are better known to my readers. The fundamental principle, as Marshall[87] states, is that the marginal utility of each separate division of expenditure should be equal. He means by this that our income should be so distributed that the last sixpence we spend on clothes should yield us the same amount of pleasure as the last sixpence expended on food or on books. And he rightly remarks that to the housekeeper the value of keeping accounts lies precisely in the fact that it makes the application of this principle easy. If we know exactly how money has been spent, then it is possible to see that expenditure has been wrongly balanced, that impulsive extravagance on hats or on out-of-season delicacies has unduly curtailed the amount spent on holidays, books, or concerts. It is for this reason that itemised tables are more useful to the housekeeper than is the ordinary creditor and debtor method of account-keeping. She should of course be able to present an accurate statement of the money spent and received, but she should not be content with this. She should further show for each quarter the amount spent on rent, food, fuel, &c. QUARTERLY SUMMARY OF HOUSEHOLD EXPENDITURE Columns: A Food and Cleaning Materials. B Household Washing. C Service. D Coals. E Gas. F Electricity. G Rent. H Rates. I Garden. J Miscellaneous. K Total. L Guests.[88] M Remarks. +---------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ |Weeks | A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | |Ending. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ |Jan. 9 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 16 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 23 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 30 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |Feb. 6 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 13 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 20 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 27 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |March 6 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 13 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 20 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | " 27 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |April 3 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ |TOTAL. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ |Weekly | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |Average. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +---------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+ The table appended has been in actual use for some time, and has served on more than one occasion to check expenditure which was unduly increasing. It could easily be modified in various ways. Food could be further subdivided, and headings for dress and other personal expenses could be added. Probably, however, it will be found better to keep one card for the quarterly household expenditure, and others for the personal expenditure of the separate members of the household. The amount of trouble involved is comparatively small, provided that the different items are summed up and entered regularly each week when the household books are examined. If the quarterly cards are then filed in order, they afford a most valuable record of household management in a small and easily handled form. When deciding on the amount of money to be allotted to the separate items, the first thing to be kept in mind is the necessity of preserving efficiency; and brain-workers ought to remember that thorough mental alertness and competency can only be secured by well-chosen, well-cooked, and daintily served food, by sufficiency of sleep, by frequent intervals of rest and recreation, and by thoroughly invigorating holidays. Extravagance should of course be avoided, but the journalist or scientist who is niggardly of expenditure on these items will probably later on be obliged to spend his savings on doctor's bills or a rest cure. A high standard of comfort and efficient work is the cheapest way of living in the long run. Whether, however, all the conventional necessaries now included by custom in the upper middle-class expenditure are really essential to the brain-worker's standard of life is perhaps another question. The "simple life" which consists in doing without all the conveniences of civilisation has been proved a failure by many experiments, but a "simple life" which accepted the comforts of electric light, gas stoves, and laid-on hot water, but abolished heavy curtains and carpets and that multiplicity of ornaments and of dishes, which increases the complexity of life without adding to its beauty, might turn out to be a success. In many cases, however, conventional expenditure is essential for professional advancement. The doctor, for instance, must live in a house of a certain size and importance; the high school teacher or woman journalist must be well dressed. Expenditure of this character is really of the nature of advertisement, and it is foolish to endeavour to curtail it. After the claims of efficiency have been met, saving and insurance come next. Life insurance is of course almost universal among the salaried classes, and is a duty imperatively laid on every man whose death would leave his family without means. But it is curious that other forms of insurance are not more practised. A small yearly payment for each child, commencing at its birth, would provide a convenient sum for its education, its start in life, or, in the case of a girl, for her trousseau and dowry. Insurance against illness also is much rarer among the upper middle class than among the working-classes. Possibly this is due to the fact that, save in the case of prolonged disease, salaries are paid during illness, while wages cease as soon as the worker is compelled to stay at home; also partly no doubt to the fact that provision for contingencies is made in other ways. Saving and insurance will be less necessary in the case of those whose income is derived from land or from invested capital, but should be considered absolutely essential by all those in receipt of a salary. In addition a small sum saved and invested in some easily realisable security will be most valuable to meet special emergencies. If after all these needs have been met, _i.e._ (1) full "efficiency" and "conventional" expenditure (including, of course, such an education for the children as will prepare them in their turn to earn an income in the same rank of life as their father), and (2) saving and insurance to provide against all contingencies that may reasonably be anticipated--if, then, a surplus still remains, its disposition must be a matter of individual choice, and it is impossible to lay down general rules. In some cases it will be saved, in others it will be used to provide more material and conventional luxuries, in others it will supply the needs of what American writers rather unpleasingly call the "higher life." Certainly the claims of generosity, charity, and culture should first be met, and it is the right and wise disposition of this surplus income which might well tax the highest powers of any human being. It is commonly supposed to be a difficult thing to earn money, but a simple matter to spend it. On the contrary, to spend with wisdom and discretion is always hard, and is hardest when the income is so elastic that a slight deviation from the best method is not immediately visited on the head of the person who has offended. The artisan's wife has no easy task, it must be confessed, but the results of any mistakes she may make fall at once upon herself or her children. But if the mistress of a large household is careless or incompetent, then she may cause untold waste, inefficiency and degeneration among her servants and tradespeople, and may never even be aware of it. A recent book by Mr. A. Ponsonby[89] gives some extraordinary instances of unnecessary expenditure on food. Mr. Ponsonby is not, of course, to be taken as an unprejudiced investigator; he is writing rather from the standpoint of the preacher than from that of the unbiassed sociologist. But his figures are not likely to be absolutely false, and it is safe to say that if in a household containing four in family and fourteen servants the food bills amounted in a week when there was little entertaining to £60, 12s. 7d. (£3, 7s. 4d. per head),[90] either the servants were being fed in a way that was quite absurdly lavish, or much of the food was absolutely wasted, or there was dishonest collusion between the housekeeper and chef and the tradespeople. In any case, the ignorance and negligence of the mistress of the house were corrupting to her staff. (_d_) CONCLUSION In short, in place of regarding the household as standing in no special relation to the rest of the community, it ought to be understood that the function of the housewife is of the utmost importance, not only to her own family, but to the whole nation. It is she who is finally responsible for the education of the children; it is she who, in the quiet and restful charm of the home, provides (or should provide) for her husband and grown-up children the recreation and refreshment which they need. If she employs many servants, then the example of her household will influence for good or for evil the homes of many working-class couples. It is the demand of the household that determines whether the labour of this country shall be employed on debased articles of sham luxury or on well made and artistic goods. The conscientious housewife could also to some extent discourage sweating, if she refused to buy products which to her knowledge were made under bad conditions. The responsibilities of the housewife place her at every turn in economic relations to the rest of the community, and therefore it is only right that coming housewives should be trained not alone in the manual crafts of cooking and laundry-work, but also in the general principles of economic science which underlie the development and present organisation of the household. We may perhaps hope too that the principles of household management may in turn react on economic science, and may show to its professors that value in use, though more difficult to detect and estimate than value in exchange, has been unduly neglected both in theory and practice. If to the management of our towns--which are, after all, only our homes on a larger scale--were applied the principles used by a good housekeeper in ordering her home, then cleanliness, beauty, and convenience would increase around us. A science of economics so modified would recall to a scholar the original meaning of the word; for what, after all, did the craft of oikonomikê, as first developed by Xenophon and Aristotle, mean but just "the management of the home"? FOOTNOTES: [13] Smith, "Wealth of Nations," edited by J. S. Nicholson, pp. 135 and 280. It is of course true that Adam Smith meant by this merely what is in a way true, that domestic servants earn no profit for their employers. He does not deny (p. 136) that their labour "has a certain value." But, like all the economists who followed him, he is content to dismiss domestic workers with this cursory treatment and to identify labourers with the workers hired for profit-making purposes. [14] See "Principles of Economics" (4th ed.), pp. 192, 772. [15] Marshall, "Principles" (4th ed.), p. 764: "The working classes had then no other beds than loose straw, reeking with vermin and resting on damp floors." [16] Thorold Rogers is a partial exception. [17] _e.g._ Rowntree, "Poverty: a Study of Town Life;" portions of Booth's "Life and Labour of the People;" reports to the Board of Trade on the cost of living. [18] Webb, S. and B., "Industrial Democracy" (cheap edition), p. 674. [19] Marshall, "Principles of Economics," vol. i. p. 159. [20] There is an assumption here which needs perhaps some discussion, _i.e._ that expenditure or consumption of goods can be most conveniently studied on the basis of family life. This is obviously the case with house-room, food, fuel, cleanliness, &c., less so with regard to clothes or recreation; it was truer of the past than of the present, and is truer of the poor than of the rich. In some classes, _e.g._ the professional class, where marriage is commonly delayed and a considerable period may intervene between the end of education and the establishment of a fresh household, it may be necessary to supplement the study of family expenditure by a consideration of the standard of living of unmarried men and women. Attempts, too, must be made to deal with the various forms of institutional life, varying from prisons and workhouses on the one hand to expensive boarding-schools and hotels on the other. But when all these necessary deductions have been made, it remains true that in order to study expenditure we must in the great majority of cases take the family as our basis of investigation. Consumption is organised on a family basis. [21] See Marshall, "Principles," book ii. chap. ii. [22] Ashley, "Economic History," vol. i. part ii. p. 262. [23] The economic historian must always be prepared to acquiesce in a certain vagueness in the matter of dates. He is not dealing with definite events, such as battles and the enactment of special laws, but rather with social tendencies, each constituted by a large number of small events; such as, for instance, the replacement of hand labour by machinery, the appearance of limited liability companies in the place of the single employer, or the determination of middle-class girls to earn their own living instead of remaining dependent on father or brothers. Tendencies such as these appear at different times in different industries and in different parts of the country, and only a misleading precision can be gained by any mention of definite dates. [24] Summarised from Seebohm, "Village Community," pp. 156-157. [25] Gasquet, "English Monastic Life," p. 197. [26] "Economic History," vol. i. [27] Surtees Society, Boldon Book, p. 28. [28] "English Monastic Life," p. 198. [29] The English were famed in the Middle Ages for their preference for good bread. They would eat no bread "That beans in come, But of cocket[30] or clerematyn[30] or else of clean wheat." --_Piers Plowman_, A. vii. 292. [30] Better kinds of bread, but not the best (wastel). [31] Walter of Henley, p. 29. [32] Apparently, it is only within the last hundred years that the cow has ceased to be a normal possession of the agricultural labourer. See Slater, "English Peasantry and Common Fields," pp. 122-128. [33] Eddy, "English House," p. 133. [34] England at that time possessed her own vineyards, _e.g._ near Gloucester, and produced white wine. [35] Rules of S. Robert as given in "Walter of Henley," p. 145. [36] Broth in which the meat had been boiled. [37] Pepper. [38] Stiff. [39] "Meals and Manners of the Olden Time," p. 164. [40] Kind of sauce. [41] Pork, eggs, cloves, currants, dates, sugar boiled in a bladder, cut into strips and served with hot rich sauce. [42] A soteltie was an elaborate confection of pastry painted or adorned with paper to represent a saint or a figure of spring, summer, &c. [43] Spiced wine. [44] Panter and pantry, from pain. [45] Butler = bottler. [46] Rules of S. Robert in "Walter of Henley," pp. 138-140, _passim._ [47] Webb, "Essay on Gloucester Abbey," p. 13. [48] "Meals and Manners," p. 74. [49] _Libes Niges Domus_, p. 65. [50] Gasquet, "English Monastic Life," p. 211. [51] The maintenance of a large retinue was one of the easiest ways available for indicating the possession of surplus wealth. This fact, coupled with the almost absurd over-elaboration of the details of serving, incline me to believe that in the mediæval castle servants were numerous and not overworked. [52] Riley, "Memorials of London," p. 48. [53] Riley, "Memorials of London," p. 199. There is, unfortunately, no indication of the social standing of this felon, Hugh le Bevere by name. The list of clothes suggests that he was fairly well-to-do, in which case his equipment of cooking and table utensils is certainly meagre. It is curious that pottery is not mentioned; it can hardly be urged that although in use it was too unimportant for a place in the inventory, since room is found for one small canvas bag, value 1d. [54] Hence the name convertible husbandry. [55] This is, of course, a very summary statement of changes which it took centuries to bring about. On the one hand, money economy existed in the mediæval town; on the other, subsistence farming continued in England to some extent until within a hundred years ago. Yet it is roughly true that in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries production for the market and not for use markedly and suddenly increased. [56] By an Act of 1589, it was ordained that four acres of land should be attached to every cottage. _Cf._ Hasbach. "English Agricultural Labourer," p. 40. [57] See Cunningham, "English Industry and Commerce," vol. ii. p. 40 (4th ed.). [58] Poultry. [59] "Description of England," p. 238 _ff._ [60] _Op. cit._, vol. i. p. 150. [61] Pickled pork. [62] This class is never described by him. [63] See Cunningham, ii. p. 78, "Issue of Patents for making Soap and Vinegar." [64] _e.g._ Slater, "English Peasantry and the Enclosure of the Common Fields." Hasbach, "History of the English Agricultural Labourer." Toynbee, "The Industrial Revolution." Hobson, "Evolution of Capitalism." [65] [Near Halifax]. "After we had mounted the third hill, we found the country one continuous village ... hardly a House standing out of speaking distance from another, and as the day wore on we could see at every House a tenter, and on almost every tenter a Piece of Cloth, Kersey or Shalloon, which are the three articles of this country's labour.... Then as every clothier must necessarily keep one horse at least to fetch home his wool and his provisions from the market, to carry his yarn to the spinners, his Manufacture to the fulling mill, and when finished to the market to be sold and the like; so every one generally keeps a cow or two for his Family.... Nor is the industry of the people wanting.... Though we met few People without Doors, yet within we saw the Houses full of lusty fellows, some at the dye-vat, some at the loom, others dressing the cloths, the women and children carding or spinning. All employed from the youngest to the oldest. Scarce a thing above four years old, but its hands were sufficient for its own support." Defoe, "Tour through Great Britain" (1769), vol. iii. p. 146. [66] "The increase of urban areas can be gathered from the Census Reports. In 1851 ... the population of such areas amounted approximately to 9,000,000, or 50 per cent. of the total population of England and Wales; by 1881 the population of urban sanitary areas, as defined by the Public Health Acts, 1872 and 1875, was 17,600,000, or 68 per cent. of the aggregate population; by 1901 ... the population of boroughs and urban districts amounted to 25,000,000, or 77 per cent. of the aggregate population."--Blue Book on Public Health and Social Conditions, p. 6 [Cd. 4671 of 1909]. [67] It should be noted, too, that the advantages of the large-scale method of production are greatly diminished by the dangers of adulteration. _Cf._ p. 177. [68] In the absence of an efficient system of police, it probably was not safe for women to walk or travel alone. In the security provided for us by paved and lighted streets, guarded by trained constables, and in the complete safety of modern methods of travelling, some of us are apt now to forget these elementary considerations, once of supreme importance. [69] For the whole subject, see Hutchins and Harrison, "History of Factory Legislation." [70] In "Educated Working Women," by Clara E. Collet, 1902. Miss Collet says: "Were statistics available it might perhaps be shown that the unmarried women are to a large extent the daughters of clerks and professional men.... Emigration is probably more frequent in the salaried class; and where the sons are obliged to emigrate, it frequently happens that the daughters have to work for their living. In this class I believe the inequality of the sexes is greatest and the chances of marriage least" (pp. 37-38). [71] P. 171. [72] I cannot refrain at this point from inserting the following quotations from "Shirley" (chapter xxii.). Charlotte Brontë's genius illumined the situation of many girls even in her time, and of a larger number since. Caroline is speaking. "Old maids, like the houseless and unemployed poor, should not ask for a place and an occupation in the world; the demand disturbs the happy and rich; it disturbs parents. Look at the numerous families of girls in this neighbourhood. The brothers of these girls are every one in business or in professions ... their sisters have no earthly employment but household work and sewing.... Men of England! look at your poor girls, many of them fading around you, dropping off in consumption or decline; or, what is worse, degenerating to sour old maids, envious, backbiting, wretched, because life is a desert to them; or, what is worst of all, reduced to strive, by scarce modest coquetry and debasing artifice, to gain that position and consideration by marriage which to celibacy is denied." [73] I am not suggesting here that the pioneers of women's higher education were wrong in the attitude they adopted. To win for women intellectual freedom was the most important duty for them, and that could only be achieved by women submitting to the same intellectual tests as men. But the problems which call for solution by their successors of a later generation have assumed a new form. [74] See Raymond Unwin, "Housing and Town-Planning." [75] In June 1908, the value of the property of the various tenants' companies was only a little short of a quarter of a million pounds, and their operations have since then been extended in various directions. [76] For comparison:-- Number of Occupation. Persons Employed. Agriculture 1,197,922 Textile fabrics 1,155,397 Professional occupations 606,260 [77] Owing to a change in the system of enumeration which alters the basis of comparison, the year 1891 cannot be used in our calculations. [78] The competent single-handed maid is meant here, not the little "slavey" who assists her mistress in the rougher part only of the work. [79] A further inquiry is needed into this matter. I am not at all clear whether servants are derived from the class of the fairly prosperous artisan or from the unskilled labouring class. [80] "There are unfortunately no reliable statistics as to the average wages earned by women workers, but, speaking from a large experience, I estimate that the average wage of the manual woman worker, taking into account slackness, sickness, &c., is certainly not more than 7s. 6d. all the year round."--"Trade Unions," by Mary Macarthur, in "Women in Industry from Seven Points of View," p. 66. [81] Stephen Reynolds in "A Poor Man's House" paints this situation with great psychological insight. [82] Compare Salmon, "Domestic Service," pp. 145-6. [83] Compare "Englishwomen's Year-book for 1910," p. 69. [84] _e.g._ Rowntree, "Poverty: a Study of Town Life"; Liverpool Economic and Statistical Society, "How the Casual Labourer Lives"; "Study of the Diet of the Labouring Classes in Edinburgh" (published by Otto Schulze & Co., now out of print); Recent Blue-books on the Cost of Living, &c. [85] Rowntree, "Poverty: a Study of Town Life," pp. 117, 298 _ff._, as to inadequacy of diet of labourer, pp. 235 and 303. Mr. Rowntree's conclusions have been impugned by several critics, and it may be that his dietary standard is too high. But even if it turns out that only a quarter and not a third of the population are in receipt of incomes insufficient for the expenditure necessary to secure bodily efficiency, the fact is serious enough. [86] Calculated by Messrs. Rowntree and Sherwell to amount to 6s. 10d. per family of the working-class population. "Temperance Problem and Social Reform" (7th ed.), p. 20. [87] "Principles" (4th ed.), p. 194. [88] A special charge was made for guests in this household, and the amount received was deducted from the weekly food bill. [89] "The Camel and the Needle's Eye." [90] "The Camel and the Needle's Eye," p. 153. SOME RELATIONS OF SANITARY SCIENCE TO FAMILY LIFE AND INDIVIDUAL EFFICIENCY BY ALICE RAVENHILL Among the many notable characteristics by which the last half century has been distinguished, there are two which bid fair permanently to colour its records and materially to influence the future of our country. I refer in the first place to the scientific study of man, his nature, his needs, and his potentialities; and in the second to the growing appreciation of the fact that the centre of ethical gravity must be shifted from absorption in the sole concerns of self to an intelligent interest in the affairs of others--that is to say, that selfishness must yield to well organised and discriminating social service. I. MAN'S PLACE IN NATURE It is of course no new thing for questions upon the real nature of that complex creature, man, to force themselves upon the attention of the observant, and from time immemorial the philosophical have spent themselves in efforts to solve this problem by theories designed to detect, even if not to account for, the agencies active in the formation of the human mind and body. The records of older civilisations bear testimony to their labours, and are familiar to most students of ancient literatures. But it was not till the resources of modern science forged new tools for the inquirer that it became possible to chisel out from the bedrock of fact the main features of man's physical and social history. With admirable patience and infinite skill, the scientific craftsmen of recent times have laboriously pieced together the scattered chips of biological research, of human tradition, of tribal customs and of world-wide folklore, until the dignity and power, the beauty and the possibilities of human nature have emerged from the dust of ignorance and the veil of superstition. The result is that it is no longer permissible to deplore in pessimistic tones the inevitable degradation of the race, nor to accept with supineness the threatened deterioration of a population. The forces by which humanity is moulded are no longer unknown; the principles which underlie social stability have been identified; the means by which the arts may be developed, which make life not only tolerable but healthful, are ready to our hands. The far-reaching significance of these facts in connection with human health and progress become apparent when considered in more detail. Observers throughout the ages have gradually noted, and subsequently turned to practical account in garden, meadow, and farmyard, certain characteristics common to all known forms of vegetable and animal life. By due consideration of these it was found possible to improve breeds, to strengthen and lengthen life, to avert disease, and generally to enhance economic value. It may now appear simple enough, to extend and apply these observations to the betterment of human life; but many generations of human beings slipped away before the facts, dimly discerned by Aristotle and Lucretius, by Buffon and Lamarck, were clearly focussed by Darwin,[91] Wallace, Spencer, and Huxley, through whose skill and labours the continuity of the web of life was first displayed to the world at large. The design may here be almost elementary in its delicate simplicity; there its subtle intricacies well-nigh baffle description. The variety of pattern is marvellous indeed, as Nature weaves with ceaseless industry the woof of progressive development. But the warp of this wondrous web is nevertheless continuous throughout its length, uniting the whole into one vast fabric. This basic unity of all manifestations of life has been further substantiated by another group of scientists--Schleiden, Schwann, Kölliker, and Virchow, for instance--who gradually and conclusively proved the identity, in their simplest form, of those living bricks (_i.e._ microscopic particles of protoplasm) from which the whole vast edifice of life is constructed. The capacity they possess for differentiation in their functions and in modes of combination long masked recognition of the fact that each commonwealth of cells, whether plant or animal, is developed in the first instance in orderly progression from a similar minute speck of protoplasm, acceptation of which has sufficed to bring about a complete revolution in the scientific world. To these discoveries were shortly added Pasteur's conception of the nature and causation of infective diseases; a knowledge which brought with it a great accession of power over hitherto mysterious and uncontrollable conditions. And finally, man's eyes have been opened to the comprehension of Nature's means of self-defence against the micro-organisms of disease. Thus, while humanity is by these means armed with most potent weapons against the inroads of infection, decay, and death, the light thrown upon the mystery of the origin of each individual life has shown man his true place in the kingdom of nature. The application of these great discoveries, together with increased opportunity for and accuracy in their utilisation, constitute the basis of the modern methods of hygiene. It must be borne in mind that until less than a century ago it was man's custom to dissociate himself wholly from the less highly developed animals and plants which he employed so freely for his support and convenience. He set himself on the highest pinnacle, as it were, of the edifice of life, believing himself to be independent of the influences by which the rest of the building was dominated. And thus through countless ages he suffered, languished, and died, unconscious that the forces he had learned more or less to control in husbandry and farmyard were in their turn controlling him in the conduct of his life. Ignorant alike of the influences of his own inherited nature or of those of his environment, he paid no heed to the responsibilities of transmitting the torch of life undimmed to succeeding generations, and gave no thought to utilising to his own personal perfecting the resources of Nature, which he habitually employed to increase his wealth or to improve his crops and stock. It was indeed to the control of his _surroundings_ that man first gave more or less careless heed. The fact that environment can either stimulate or stunt both physical and mental powers, thrust itself too persistently on his attention to be ignored; but the influence of a good parentage or of sound ancestry was less obvious, and for generations received little or no attention. Vague talk on "family temper," "family habits," "family voices" was common enough, but no more than a passing curiosity was aroused as to their hidden import, nor was their profound significance suspected. Thus, though half a century has passed since Darwin placed man[92] "in his proper position in the sequence of biological forms," during which interim enormous strides have been made in applying to the betterment of human existence the principles found to hold good in the case of lowlier type of life, public sentiment has so far only supported sanitary reforms directed to the promotion of improved environment. And this in spite of Sir Francis Galton's[93] first appeal in the cause of eugenics more than forty years ago. The distinguishing characteristics of progressive races and the right of every unborn child to be the offspring of healthy, self-respecting, virtuous parents have been repeatedly pointed out; while attention is drawn to the accumulating evidence in favour of the fact that of all influences upon the individual his inherited nature is the most powerful. Yet the public ear remains deaf to the cry that the present generation is largely responsible for the weal or woe of their children's children. This is not the place in which to discuss Darwin's theory of heredity nor its subsequent elaboration and amplification by his contemporaries or successors.[94] But the time is come when emphasis _must_ be laid upon the duty of gaining some general acquaintance with the subject and its applications in the case of an Imperial people. It may be also well to point out that pessimism is not necessarily associated with the fruits of the studies carried on by our students of inherited qualities, such as Sir Francis Galton or Professors Thomson, Bateson, Karl Pearson, and others; only their results give us reason to pause, for they cannot lightly be disregarded. They tell us that we hold in our hands to-day the mental vigour and bodily powers of an untold number of descendants, therefore it behoves us to consider our ways and be wise while there is yet time. For our encouragement also be it known, that while the lamp of modern hygiene illuminates the errors of the past, it sheds its bright rays over the paths of the present, and penetrates to some extent the dim twilight of the future. II. FACTORS ADVERSE TO HUMAN PROGRESS It is a matter for regret that the sympathetic consideration for the sufferings of others, which found such grand exponents in John Howard, in Elizabeth Fry, and in thousands more since modern methods of philanthropy were initiated in the eighteenth century,[95] has tended latterly to lose its virility. It is giving place to a maudlin sentimentality, which seeks not only to preserve life at all costs, but to permit, nay to encourage, the production of a quality of human life, so defective, so devitalised, that it threatens to minimise the multiplication of the fit, by taxing them to their detriment with the care and support of the unfit. So to smooth the path of the weakly and unsound as to put a premium on their fertility is false philanthropy and faulty hygiene; for it is well to remember that reasonable exertion is beneficial to health; that to overcome obstacles is stimulating to the energetic; that some struggle for the means of livelihood calls forth resourcefulness and adaptability in the intelligent. Success in the battle of life comes to those made of stuff equal to the wear and tear of daily existence, and possessed of the qualities which conduce to progress. These are they who are competent to perpetuate the best qualities of a good stock; these should be the chosen bulwarks of a nation's progress; nor must their numbers be swamped by the ailing, the crippled, the defective, and the insane. A proportion probably of some of the deeply seated, complicated, social problems which have presented themselves, unperceived and almost unconsciously, are the outcome of a one-sided study of hygiene: these, combined with the slow growth of social science, and a sickly, easy-going susceptibility, have been allowed to obscure the real issues of many well-intentioned but unwise and ill-considered philanthropic measures. The necessity, the _urgent_ necessity, has now, however, arisen for the bold and scientific solution of these social problems. The work of biologists, sociologists, and students of history during the last ten years has illuminated the whole question of race progress and public health with a light so powerful and clear that even he who runs can read the signs of the times by its clear rays; while to the millions of parents and guardians whose lives are spent in the care of children and home, its brilliance throws into high relief the dignified responsibility of their work, its far-reaching worth and enduring influence, as well as the fact that for its adequate performance something more is necessary than a bowing acquaintance with modern sanitary science. For what is the message of scientific hygiene to the parent and householder of the twentieth century? Dr. W. H. Burnham, of Clarke University, U.S.A., a world-wide authority on the subject, has formulated this message for us into three terse, but telling and suggestive, commands. The first gives solemn warning to beware of fads and of the many popular doctrines which are mediæval in their crudities and damaging by their unconsidered acceptance. The second preaches the gospel of _work_ and self-control, which must be practised in this as in every other connection where progress and good results are desired. The third enforces the doctrine of cleanliness to a degree as comprehensive as it is unusual--cleanliness in person, dwelling, and food; in air, water, and decoration; in occupation, environment and morals; the work of home hygiene being to secure for each family conditions which will permit normal and unhampered functioning for all the organs of each one of its members; elasticity and pliancy in the functions being a primary characteristic of health. If once it be accepted that health, capacity, endurance, and energy are more powerful weapons for a progressive people than are sword or gun, obedience to these commands will be general and their results enduring. The pages of history teach us that each nation in turn has exhibited these qualities at its zenith of success, whether it were the relatively highly civilised inhabitants of Greece and Rome, or the barbarian hordes under Attila. They characterise equally each group of successful pioneers, whether they be the Pilgrim Fathers of the sixteenth, the Huguenots of the seventeenth, or the successful colonist of the nineteenth century. When however their cultivation is neglected the force of the life current of a people or community is lost; the mighty river of a nation's prosperity dwindles to an insignificant streamlet of mere existence, soon to be lost to view in the morass of oblivion. To what general causes may such deterioration be attributed? Among the more prominent must be mentioned ignorance of man's physical nature and of the nurture essential to his welfare; subtle forms of self-indulgence; lowered standards of morality; enervating luxury, or, in some cases, so severe a struggle for existence among the salt of the population (the upper, middle, and professional classes, superior mechanics and artisans), that even patriotism does not justify a quiverful of children. But the persistence of these causes is a national calamity. It is the science and art of hygiene which is emphasising their disastrous consequences. No longer in its infancy, no longer a mere collection of fads, questionable statistics, and empirical doctrines, hygiene is prepared to inform us how to promote human efficiency in every relation of life--domestic, occupational, social, and imperial. Its tenets are firmly based upon a goodly group of sciences, and their utilisation call into play a whole range of arts. Its theories find confirmation in the social problems of the day, and the experience gained from their tentative and partial application affords sound evidence of their worth to the world. The "expectation" of life, for instance, has been extended ten years in half a century; in twenty years the death-rate has decreased thirty per cent. Disease has been found in most instances to be controllable, and has been controlled; unhealthy occupations have had their dangers curbed if not entirely banished, and the lot of many has been immeasurably brightened. _Yet_ the weak joints in the nation's harness are gaping, and the vigour and virility of the masses appear to be diminishing. Again we ask, Why? III. STAGES IN THE GROWTH OF SANITARY SCIENCE The answer may be found by reference to the late Professor de Chaumont's now classical outline of the stages to be identified in the hygienic education of a race. He divided these into three periods, of which he described the first as merely "Instinctive," for efforts after sanitary practice were dictated solely by the personal discomfort associated with their neglect. In those far-off prehistoric days, Professor Boyd Dawkins tells us that primitive man, then in his nomadic stage, would dig runnels to carry off the rain water from the near neighbourhood of his shelters, or would move on to fresh pastures when his family and herds had fouled the nearest stream, or change his camping ground when the accumulated refuse of his food and his prowess as a hunter interfered with convenient access to his dwelling; but he took no precautions to prevent the recurrence of these discomforts, and his efforts to remove their consequences were purely temporary. To this there succeeded what Professor de Chaumont designated the "Supernatural" period,[96] which extended over many thousands of years, during the dawn of which Eastern rulers often combined in their own person the triple callings of priest, prophet, and physician. Whether it be in China or in Persia, in Egypt or in India, among the Greeks, the Arabs, or the Hebrews, the practice of physical morality and of personal cleanliness, of restrictions of diet or protection from infection, were closely woven into the religion of the people. Reasons of health and sanitary advantages permeate the rules of more faiths than that of the Jews--whose Lawgiver embodied in the Pentateuch health maxims now known to have been derived from earlier civilisations. But, remarkable and interesting as are the ancient sanitary codes to a generation which professes to believe in the necessity for hygienic practice, their usage was tinctured from the first by a mass of superstition. Tradition and fatalism hampered true consistency between faith and works; the often sound regulations suffered from their empirical foundations. Constant warfare, varied by alternations of luxury with asceticism, combined to absorb men's minds and to pervert their common sense, so that plague and famine, disease and penury, were superstitiously regarded as discipline from the Deity, not to be averted or avoided, but rather to be accepted as a chastisement prompted by love. The creed that to save suffering to the vile body might risk the salvation of the soul, cost Europe far dearer than is at all generally recognised; for the noble, the pure, the high-minded, the intellectual, segregated themselves for centuries in monastery and convent, in the firm faith that by denying to themselves the joy of parenthood they promoted the spiritual welfare of their country. Ignorant of their racial responsibilities, they left as progenitors of the next generation the less refined and ruder elements in the population. It is no cause for surprise, therefore, that progress in sanitation moved slowly. Domestic and urban conditions were permitted of a character well defined by the facts that, in mediæval times, a man of forty-five or fifty was considered long lived, and that first attempts to control disease were based upon commercial convenience rather than upon the saving of life. To this long night of superstition succeeded the third and last period, known as the "Rational," of which the first dawnings can be detected even in Plantagenet days. In this period it is desirable further to differentiate three stages of progress--(_a_) that of Development, when uneasiness made itself felt, but from absence of knowledge efforts at reform and control were crude, though often intelligent; (_b_) the stage of Legislation, and (_c_) the stage of Freedom.[97] In the first of these, for instance, Henry III. effected an improvement on any former practice by bringing water to the city of London in pipes, made by boring or burning a channel through the trunks of large trees. Half a century later, in 1297-8, laws were promulgated upon the subjects of offensive trades, food adulteration, and wandering pigs; while Richard II. imposed penalties upon those guilty of fouling rivers and ditches. Out of sight out of mind, however, was the sanitary creed of this and many succeeding generations, so that too often the apparent gain of the moment sowed the noxious seed of intensified subsequent ills. Sir John Simon has pointed out that it was not until the early part of the eighteenth century that hygiene in its modern significance loomed on the social horizon with clearer outline and more definite aims. A gradual transformation took place in the next hundred and fifty years, when the national records, as well as the reports of philanthropic organisations, indicate the gradual growth of a public opinion which presently sought its sanitary salvation in legislation. The nineteenth century saw, as a consequence, the accumulation of a huge mass of public health laws, designed to accomplish reforms where philanthropy or self-interest had failed to influence habits. The suggested designation, namely, the Legislative, is therefore peculiarly appropriate for this, the second stage of progress in the third period of our country's hygienic education. To legislation men pinned their faith as the most potent weapon of reform. From the first most inadequate and ineffective Factory Act of 1802 until the enactments of the last parliamentary session, each year has seen substantial additions made to the growing mass of sanitary legislation, which has become unwieldy in bulk and intensely complicated in machinery. Any attempt to enumerate even a few of the public health laws which crowd our statute books would here be tedious and out of place, though the community in general ought to be better acquainted than it is with its powers and obligations. For, truth to tell, fifty years of public health administration has proved that human beings are not yet consumed with a sufficiently strong desire for health and efficiency to be willing to change objectionable or unwholesome habits or to sacrifice their conception of comfort at the _suggestion_ of officials. Indeed the sterner measures of compulsory conformity were so necessary to the education of the public in the elements of healthy living, that the year 1866 saw the commencement of a new era in Public Health Department of the Government. "The grammar of common sanitary legislation,"[98] writes the historian of our "English Sanitary Institutions," "then first acquired the novel virtue of an imperative mood." "Must" was substituted in some laws for "may," and though the permissive has not, even in fifty years, entirely given place to the peremptory, the efforts to effect individual reform by Act of Parliament have, since the formation of the Local Government Board in 1872, assumed more importance and vigour. Since that date the reports of health committees all over the country record the substantial results of persevering work in the interests of hygiene, qualified by the fact that the experience of other nations has been abundantly confirmed by our own, namely, that it is futile to legislate in advance of public opinion. Until the populace has been impregnated with a knowledge of what is right, right action, though demanded by its legislators, will be perverted by ignorant intention or by resentful indolence. Even those who have served the cause of sanitation most loyally recognise that coercion is but a poor yeast with which to leaven measures for the public weal; the product is liable to become sour and worthless rather than wholesome and effective. One higher grade must be passed by the nation under the tutelage of a sanitary reform before its education can be called complete. The final stage in this last long period is described by Professor de Chaumont as that of "Freedom," of which the attainment is not possible until action is based on intelligent individual conviction. Then and then alone there will be a general recognition that "rights" are inevitably associated with responsibilities, and that true liberty is followed not by license, but by self-control and respect for the rights of others. IV. WHY THE IDEALS OF MODERN HYGIENE ARE NOT ATTAINED And so it has come about that, with this ideal in view, the methods of modern hygiene are directed to awaken the nation's sanitary conscience and to stimulate the growth of true civic freedom. These methods may be fairly defined as the working of common sense aided by the results of scientific research, in their turn supported by very carefully tested applications. Necessarily it is assumed that each individual will accord to them intelligent, personal support and, where necessary, will be willing to sink unreasonable likes and dislikes in the sea of social service. Examples of the enormous benefit inseparable from well-considered sanitary legislation could be multiplied; though, on the other hand, it is also necessary to check optimism by many illustrations of the grievous harm still being wrought by want of thought. Hindrance to possible progress is also associated with the ignorance of those whose development has not yet attained the level when freedom of action can be permitted. It is some of the results of this ignorant indolence which cause the minds of the thoughtful and far-sighted to be tense with anxiety for the welfare of their country, and arouse a wish for further and more stringent public health enactments. Nevertheless, again it must be said that to legislate in advance of public opinion is futile. Only after stupendous exertion, for instance, has the serious and continued mortality among infants excited general attention; and the curious, widespread indifference to the recommendations of recent Royal Commissions on the Poor Law and the Care of the Feeble-minded indicates that, were infant mortality controllable by legislation, such legislation would still fail of its object unless it were also realised that a child's hold on life is practically dependent upon parental care, and is intimately associated with maternal nutrition before its birth. Or again; the law relating to the protection of the public food supply is approaching a high pitch of excellence; the penalties on adulteration or on the sale of diseased or otherwise unwholesome foodstuffs are severe and quite frequently inflicted; _but_ these regulations are powerless to influence the errors of nutrition constantly reflected in the features of our population at each age period, neither can they stem the tide of self-indulgence, emotionalism and luxury which enervate and deteriorate thousands of our people. Vain indeed are their endeavours to disguise by alcoholism and drugs the traces of their misfortunes. Stern Nature is relentless; her laws are as those of the Medes and Persians; the children's teeth _shall_ be set on edge by the fruits of the reckless folly and intemperance of their ancestors. Is sanitary legislation therefore a failure, or by what means can light from the sun of knowledge penetrate this dense mass of ignorance and apathy? For what reason has it opposed such a resistant surface to the manipulations of the reformer or to the coercions of the official? These questions do not, unfortunately, admit of concise or conclusive replies. Each political party in turn points the finger of reproach and derision at its opponents for the modest success by which their legislative efforts at social reforms are attended. Disease, malnutrition, alcoholism and overwork continue to hamper their efforts, and will continue so to do, until a sanitary conscience is awakened in each breast, at an age when habits and ideals are still unformed. There is no royal road to the solution of these serious problems. They call for infinite, patient and untiring tact, while they also demand the employment of many and varied well-considered methods, based on a sound foundation of sanitary and social science. The day for reform by theory is over; the moment for practice by individual example and co-operative effort has arrived. V. SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF MAN'S PHYSICAL NATURE Before proceeding to suggest some means by which to increase the stability of the national health through the agency of family life, it will be advantageous to recall the advice given to students of any form of life by Professor Arthur Thomson:--that they should, before attempting to form conclusions as to its nature, submit its constitution to analysis, with the assistance of what he described as the biological prism. This, he says, will throw light on the inherited nature of the creature--the capital, so to say, with which it is endowed at birth. It will illuminate the functional nature of its parts, and will reveal what it does in the course of its ceaseless activities--nervous, muscular and organic. Further, the prismatic rays will render visible the results of some of the influences dependent upon the environment with which it is surrounded, which play upon it before and after birth. Unfortunately these rays, when directed to human nature, cannot penetrate so deeply nor divulge so clearly the secrets of this the highest and most complex form of life, as they do when directed to its simpler manifestations. All ordinary difficulties are enhanced by our human capacity for racial admixture and the creation of an artificial environment. This much, however, is clearly revealed by a partial analysis. Human beings, in common with all life, are distinguished by the power of movement, and are sensitive to many forms of external stimulus:--heat, cold, electricity, or pressure. They pass their lives in rhythmic alternations of activity and repose; they breathe; they absorb food to supply energy and to maintain unimpaired the substance of their bodies; they excrete waste products. They share with plants and animals an intrinsic tendency to continue their growth for a certain period and up to a definite amount, while, at the close of the most pronounced period of growth, ability to transmit life absorbs the energy hitherto utilised for personal development, by which means the perpetuation of a species is secured. Research shows, also without possibility of question, that certain similar characteristics distinguish the mechanism of every type of animal life; though the machinery be in some cases of the simplest, in others highly complex. Thus have been revealed many secrets of man's physical nature; as, for instance, the knowledge that, in the earliest stages of their existence, higher forms of life recapitulate more or less imperfectly certain far-off ancestral phases of development, of which living specimens are still to be found on the lower branches of humanity's huge genealogical tree. By means also of the close and detailed observation of these lowlier organisms a clearer conception has been formed of the intricacies of growth and the prolonged process of development in mankind. Just how human beings have come to be what they are, mentally and morally as well as physically, is a still unsolved problem. There are, of course, many missing chapters in the long story of life, though so far no contradictions have been detected in its arguments. The sad side of this biological lore exists in the now ascertained fact that the highest intellectual and moral powers, those last to develop, are the first to suffer arrest or to die away when the organism is subjected to premature exhaustion or to precocious responsibility. Predisposing causes are found in disease, dissipation, or defective nurture. Another of the more important lessons to be learnt from the pages of this book of life's history is the conservative influence of the law of inherited nature; a law which makes for the preservation of racial types by suppressing wide deviations from the normal. A familiar illustration of this may be found in the fact that the children of parents of great height or of very short stature usually revert to the average of the race. The significance of this genetic relation in maintaining an efficient people was unrecognised until quite recent times, and though valuable evidence is accumulating on the descent of hereditary character in mankind, no definite conclusions have yet been reached on the _intensity_ of the transmission of qualities. It is, of course, a subject of intense complexity, the full discussion of which is here impossible. In the interests of future generations it is, however, to be wished that more thought were given to the conclusions it is allowable to draw. "If," for instance, says a recent writer, "instead of allowing the race to mate at random we selected both parents for some one quality, we could raise the intensity of inheritance and establish gradually, by continued selection, a strain in which the quality reached a value much higher than the average in the original mixed race...."[99] Thus could a race be strengthened for life's calls, or, on the contrary, until and unless the people are awakened to the existence and bearing on their national security of such fundamental hygienic influences, it can be emasculated. No such selection is likely ever to dominate human marriages, but an appreciation of these and similar facts is fundamental to national progress; and in time the dissemination of such knowledge will be considered a parental duty, the more urgent since the resources of civilisation and ill-regulated sympathy have combined to brush aside the sterner laws of nature, so that the deteriorated threaten to become the chief progenitors of the next generation. During the process of studying the abundant evidence of life's progress from the simple to the complex, it becomes also apparent that it is affected by forces other than heredity. Recognition of the ever-present influence of these potent but often disregarded forces makes for harmonious living, whereas their neglect is associated with heavy penalties. I refer to the capacity for individual variation from the racial type; to the modification of each individual by his or her surroundings; and to the personal predisposition, technically described as diathesis, which influences the reaction made to every form of stimulus. Of these three forces, the first is the result of an inborn tendency to deviate from the ancestral type; an orderly process with a definite intention, by no means a mere chance fluctuation. This certainly makes for progress as well as for interest in life, though it enhances the difficulties of education, because it demands the adaptation of conditions to each individual's requirements. The second, the law of modification, takes into account the influence of environment upon inherited nature; the effects of climate, and food, for example, or of forms of occupation. Predisposition is, of course, a personal quality--a factor of primary importance in our susceptibility to or power to resist disease or in our capacity to withstand adverse conditions. This property is responsible for the greater or less degree of adaptability to new conditions possessed by each of us, and is concerned with our power to live in tune or at discord with our surroundings. Another biological law, that of periodicity,[100] or of rhythmic alternations of activity and rest, has hitherto often suffered among human beings more in the breach than in the observance of its tenets; though unquestionably conformity to its requirements makes for health and stability. Throughout nature habits of rhythmic, organic activity are too familiar to attract attention. Of these, the periodic return of the seasons, for instance, or the daily tides, the flowering of plants and the ripening of fruit, the migrations of birds and the hibernation of certain insects and animals, are obvious examples. These rhythms have been proved by experience to be advantageous in the world. They make for efficiency and economise energy, and, from their high degree of development in man's nature, it may be fairly assumed that to him their observance is of great consequence. Many of them are beyond his control; such, for example, as the diurnal variations of his body temperature, the beating of the heart, the call of hunger, or the rhythm of growth. Others he can observe or abuse according to his pleasure; sleep, for instance, or the rhythm of work, or the daily discharge from his body of its waste products.[101] It is the work of hygiene to demonstrate how to combine obedience to all these laws with the demands of modern existence, and it is the duty of man to conform reasonably to modes of life based on these demonstrations. More especially does responsibility for the establishment of certain rhythms, such as sleep, devolve upon the organiser of a child's early life. VI. THE ORIGIN OF FAMILY LIFE AND ITS RELATIONSHIP TO SANITARY SCIENCE Further researches into the records of the past, and a closer study of the underlying principles upon which humanity has formulated many generally adopted customs, indicate how unexpectedly intimate is the relation between the growth of a social organisation and the origin of primitive efforts after the preservation of life and health. The world at large is so accustomed to the widespread existence of family life that curiosity is rarely aroused as to its origin, intention and worth; consequently to ignorance of its significance must be attributed the assertion that the custom is well-nigh obsolete and the proposal of some would-be reformers to abolish the institution and to instal the State _in loco parentis_. Professor McDougall[102] assures us that such is the social importance of the family that all who have given serious attention to the question are agreed that the stability of the family is the prime condition of a healthy state. This opinion is supported by other writers,[103] who have emphasised their conviction that the healthful development of the individual--even the possibilities of racial progress--depend to a large degree upon maintaining intact the integrity of family life. Their conclusions are based upon recent researches into the sciences of biology, sociology, and economics. The origin of this relation is apparently traceable to one of the many forms of human association which have proved advantageous in the struggle for existence, when the value to a man and his wife of so protecting their offspring during childhood that there should be later on an array of lusty sons and industrious daughters thrust itself on their notice. The division of strenuous work, for instance, the pursuit and preparation of food, the effective defence of their rude shelters against the depredations of their foes, were substantial advantages to be derived in primitive times from the possession of a large group of children. Upon the youthful vigour and strength of their family the parents could rely also when overtaken by the weakness of old age or by accident or disease. These economic and sociological advantages were so early appreciated and are so widely adopted that traces of family life are to be detected in the history and customs of every tribe or community hitherto investigated. The bond thus formed, even amongst the lowest savages, first developed, then strengthened the ties of natural affection between a mother and her children and prolonged its emotional existence. In the case of the paternal parent, it is probable that the motives which incited him to make the efforts necessary for the protection of his helpless infants might more probably be found in the desire to leave an avenger on individual enemies and a feeling that funeral rites would be duly performed after his death, as well as his tribe strengthened in war. The gradual development of the human home has been admirably described by more than one writer, who has associated its evolution with the gregarious instinct, recognised in many of the higher forms of animal life.[104] Within reason, associated numbers represent power--power to preserve the progeny, therefore to maintain the numbers, which again in reason make for social support and independence. Power for defence, power to secure an adequate supply of food and ability to differentiate occupations, thus dividing labour, so that while the men of a family group were engaged in war or the chase, their womenkind devoted their attention to the creature comforts which promote health and efficiency--these are all factors which make for progress. VII. WOMAN'S VOCATION IN HOME AND FAMILY LIFE And so it came about that to some extent woman's special and privileged vocation as a home-maker began even in prehistoric times. Upon her it devolved to rear the children she bore; to cook, to mend, to make, to spin and dye and weave; to prepare a welcome for the victor and to minister to the sick or wounded. No sense of menial limitation in their duties was apparent among the notable women of the past. They were skilled workers, capable and respected managers, under whose direction men as well as women carried out the details of daily work, to whose care in later centuries castle and garrison were entrusted in the absence of their lords, and who most evidently assumed this responsibility with confidence and success. The changing conditions of the last three centuries, however, reacted in many ways to the detriment of women's domestic energies and sapped their pride in the vocation of housewife. Industrial developments took much occupation out of their hands, and they were not apparently concerned to undertake others more in consonance with modern life. As concentration of the population in large centres undermined the last survival of feudal conditions, the strong conservative instinct of women made it hard for them to adapt themselves and their households to revised methods:--to substitute "new lamps for old," so that gradually it seems women became split up into two parties, somewhat out of sympathy one with the other. Adherence to the traditions of the past and the attractions of social life distinguished the one party; a restless desire to give scope to their whole nature and to work out their own salvation on unconventional lines possessed the other. In the one case there was no desire for domestic reformation. What methods could be better than their great-grandmother's! In the other, glimpses of what seemed a far wider and more intellectual life than that of the ordinary housewife diminished interest in the physical needs of human nature, which it was thought made no claims on mental faculties, and of which the daily care was constantly associated with irksome restrictions and a position of financial dependence. It is not possible here even to outline the numerous social and commercial innovations which have modified every side of daily life for the last two hundred years; but, when inclined harshly to rebuke women for some of their now almost inexplicable blindness to these changes, it is well to remember that the flood of new discoveries, new inventions, new modes of transit, new forms of occupation and amusement, new means of money-making and fresh excitements imposed an enormous strain upon nervous systems, still but slowly adapting themselves to the stir and stress of the modern world. That eyes should be temporarily dazzled by the brilliance of the "wonderful century"; that the first results of freedom from a period of unnatural restraint should be intoxication with liberty, is not surprising. Full of encouragement is, however, the fact that an increasing number of women of all ranks are engaged to-day in efforts to direct the light of modern knowledge to the betterment of human life; the movement speaks for the innate soundness of their womanhood and for their realisation of their imperial responsibilities. Many of these efforts are still unsystematised, many good intentions are held to be of equal worth with organised practical knowledge; many women are alive only to the needs of the least favoured of the community and are dead to the urgent calls for intelligent reforms in their own domiciles. But if the willing mind be there, the direction of the work into desirable channels will slowly though surely follow. It is most certainly unnecessary to pour every girl into the mould of a conventional German hausfrau in order that she may perceive the inner meaning of family life. God fulfils Himself in many ways, and diversity of training and of interests is as beneficial as it is desirable. Neither can the women of a country single-handed conserve this great institution of family life. The loyalty of boys and the co-operation of men are imperative to its preservation. They as well as their mothers, wives, and sisters must realise its responsibilities and opportunities, and must maintain the dignified position of those who preside over this unit of community life; they also must respond to the crying need for its adaptation to the requirements of modern civilisation. VIII. THE FUNCTION OF THE FAMILY IN NATIONAL LIFE Mrs. Bosanquet[105] has told us that the most important economic function of the family to-day is its direct control of the prosperity or ruin of nations; for here alone are found in combination the forces which determine the quantity of the population with the forces which determine its quality. To control these forces offers, to say the least, a life-work for countless men and women. Both parents must safeguard the character of their children's inherited nature; both sexes are more or less directly or remotely concerned in the provision of a suitable environment for human lives, infant or adult. Under the circumstances it may well be a matter for surprise that we have been so slow to perceive that the right performance of these duties demands a preliminary study of the art of preserving health and promoting progress, and we marvel at the placid spirit of content which has sanctioned the conversion into a stronghold of empiricism, the very place where a sound knowledge of progressive sanitary science is of primary importance. In the book to which reference has been already made, Mrs. Bosanquet also enumerates the causes which in her opinion militate most actively against the continuance of family life at the present day. Among others she mentions evasion of responsibility, self-indulgence (with which we are very familiar), reliance upon external sources of maintenance, and the unequal distribution among the members of a family of the burden of support. Further, she refers to the unfortunate failure among parents to realise that the old Roman customs of parental possession and filial submission are out of date to-day, and calls upon the wise guardian to substitute others which lead to loyalty and love. The new movement for a study of the characteristics of childhood and adolescence should materially contribute to the realisation that this parental attitude of dominant authority must be now associated with and modified by a more balanced understanding of the phases of youthful development and of the intricacies of individual temperament. Convenience has hitherto encouraged the customary regulation of a group of young lives as if they were one and the same individual, no allowance being made for variation in character or in age, in propensities or in health. Each nursery party or infant school serves to illustrate the point. Individual tendencies to cold or to fatigue, to nerve storms or to indolence; individual capacities in diet, occupation or exercise, must be intelligently respected if potentialities are to become actualities. In the well-conducted home, for example, a study of individual character must in the future replace cast-iron discipline or easy-going, child-spoiling indulgence. The fact that the early cultivation of good habits makes for healthful happiness must be generally appreciated; and the duty of the home to provide opportunity for the exercise of personal tastes, the importance of training as a relief to nervous strain and as the best means to develop resource and skill, must be perceived. It will be by this constant understanding supervision in early years, and later by the cultivation of an intimate sympathetic comradeship with his children, that the modern parent will retain for his country the cementing force of family life. IX. THE MEANING OF INFANCY The great discovery of John Fiske as to the reasons for the long continuance of childhood in man must not be overlooked in this connection; it bears so directly on health and efficiency, and is closely associated with the importance of the family to the individual as well as to the nation. Why, it may be asked, is man's period of helplessness so prolonged; why, when his brain development reaches so high a standard, is he for years in a position of entire dependence, whereas snakelet and chick are practically self-supporting from the hour of hatching? When the lower forms of animal life are compared with mankind, the non-existence in their case of any such stage as infancy is at once apparent. They are brought into the world able to take care of themselves and to live an independent individual existence. Young pigs run almost as soon as they are born, young swallows fly directly they are fledged. Now, if the structure of lower animals be examined, it will be found that they have no central warehouse corresponding to the human brain for the storage of new sensations or for an elaborate and original response to them. Each such animal repeats the life of its parents; each responds in exactly the same way to the contact of air, of earth, of food, or of water. Their activities, it is true, are distinguished by accuracy and despatch, but the offspring of a hen of the twentieth century has no larger capacity for the variation of these activities than has the chick which was hatched out six thousand years ago. The guinea-pig of to-day, for example, remains mentally at the level of his thousandth ancestor. Wherein then lies the difference between the pig and the baby? As animals rise in the scale, as their brains become more subtle, more elaborate in structure, their actions become correspondingly more numerous and complicated, more varied, more individual. The nervous systems of such animals are characterised by an increasing complexity of development, and this provides the machinery necessary to the performance of an increasing number of muscular and mental co-ordinations; they can adapt themselves to unfamiliar surroundings and possess much enhanced advantages in the struggle for existence. _But_, associated with these advantages, is a much longer period of immaturity, because, where the capacity for flexibility and progress is great, the antenatal period is insufficient for the establishment of the necessary nervous connections or even for the development of the brain cells between which these connections will be formed. The chick will have its full plumage in ten weeks, but mentally it is far below a dog or a monkey, whose period of immaturity is much longer. Similarly, the dog attains his maturity long before the monkey, who is infinitely his superior in fertility of resource, power to learn through imitation, and capacity for attention. The infant in its turn is far longer in a dependent condition than the highest ape. Relatively large in bulk at birth, and reaching usually its full mass in the first fourteen years of life, the human brain possesses throughout childhood vast silent areas, big with future potentialities, areas in which the cells are slowly ripening to function. Even after full growth in size is reached, many more years must pass before capacity for the higher mental functions or for the complete control of such functions has developed. It must be borne in mind that, throughout this period of immaturity, errors of nutrition or defective stimulation may interfere with function. One of the most important duties of the home is to provide the suited environment for its child occupants during these long and anxious years. How long they are has been emphasised by Dr. Clouston,[106] who has said that, of all the periods of brain growth, the most important, as regards the development of our highest moral and mental potentialities, is that between eighteen and twenty-five years of age, when the capacity for self-control should be coming into function in its highest relations, and when failure to ripen in due course is fraught with most serious consequences for the future. There is no such thing, therefore, as infancy or parental care in the lowest orders of animal life; of which, one result is a gigantic mortality among their offspring. Enormous numbers of eggs are laid to ensure the preservation of the species when left to fend for themselves. The turbot, for instance, must deposit millions of minute glassy ova or the species would become extinct. Even among frogs the destruction of tadpoles is so great that provision must be made to allow for this loss. The fostering care of birds for their young at once permits a great reduction in the number of the offspring; but, though birds give evidence of some capacity for parental care, infancy, as such, is really confined to mammalian young. Even here it is curtailed in a vast number of species; but wherever it exists it stands for power to progress, and represents capacity for benefiting by, indeed depending upon, education, if only in the simple form of learning by imitation--a form familiar to readers of such books as Long's "Schools of the Woods." Plasticity is the hall-mark of progress; educability indicates a brain more or less competent to assimilate, to remember, to compare, to discriminate. This door of progress has been merely set ajar for even the higher apes; it is open to man only. The period of plasticity is evidently prolonged in proportion to the degree in which conscious intelligence has superseded mere brute force in promoting successful survival--that is to say, the transmission of _mental ability_ rather than of _physical strength_ postpones maturity. Man alone possesses in full the powers of selection and adaptation, of reason and of emotion, of memory and of mental originality, which are included in his rich heritage of life. If he is to realise his full potentialities, he must have protection for years after birth and an extended time for development. The immature infant must be fed, sheltered, and stimulated, if the inherent powers of adjustment to surroundings are to develop normally. But so great is the instability associated with human immaturity and future potentiality, that arrested development is too often the heavy penalty paid by the child for the ignorance and carelessness of his parents.[107] Faults of food and clothing, insufficient warmth, cleanliness, or exercise, premature work or precocious responsibility and independence, prolonged overstrain or insufficient stimulation of mind and body, are the prevalent causes by which a child's normal growth is warped and prejudiced. Where this occurs he never enters into his birthright of power; it has too often been thoughtlessly bartered by his natural guardians, literally for a mere mess of pottage. X. CAUSES WHICH MENACE HEALTHFUL INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD Perhaps one of the greatest inconsistencies of an inconsistent nation lies in the fact that the extraordinary ignorance of the elementary needs of a tender infant is not confined to one section of society; it is found in Belgravia as well as in Bermondsey. Thus, though the chief sources of the tuberculosis which is responsible for the presence of 45 per cent. of the children in the London Invalid Schools are confined to the homes of the poorer classes,[109] inquiries into the incidence of rickets among children in Glasgow show a higher percentage of cases in the families of mechanics than of labourers[110]--a clear illustration that ignorance and not poverty is here the predisposing cause. Impure air and stuffy, ill-ventilated rooms are concerned in the susceptibility to both diseases, as is also malnutrition with its associated diminution of the innate powers of self-protection. But, in the one case, inability to provide suitable food is the general cause; while in the other, inexcusable ignorance of the right forms in which food should be supplied to young children is a certain source of the evil. The thought is pathetic, for the causes are wholly preventable. Pitiful also, because less excusable, is the grievous injury to health associated with a mouth full of rotten teeth, permitted as it is among families possessed of sufficient means to meet the cost of cure, who prefer to spend their money upon dress and amusement, or among the members of which necessary endurance of a trifling shock has not been cultivated. Were the foulness of the discharge from a carious tooth to be externally visible, the æsthetic instinct among the refined would clamour for prompt treatment; but, unfortunately for health, the results of the disease are concealed, and consequently condoned. Again: light, sunshine and quiet are now known to be essential to physical development and to the possession of a sound nervous system; the statement amounts to a platitude, for is not every wealthy invalid despatched to complete convalescence by the sea or in the country, and is not the custom of a general annual holiday due largely to the conscious benefits derived from an open-air life far from the bustle of towns? Yet physical morality is so poorly developed that the atmosphere of suburban as well as urban districts is permanently obscured by the preventable and wasteful results of imperfect combustion, though the detriment is incalculable to those whose lives see no change of air. The ceaseless rumble of noisy traffic, allowed to disturb the rest of thousands, or more probably of millions, of our population, is another factor responsible for the prevalence of unstable nerves and of ill-balanced brains. It assumes great gravity when it is realised that among these sleepers are numbered the children whose hours of rest are already most seriously curtailed. Another sin against childhood bears long enduring fruits. I refer to the terrible results upon the lives of those infants who survive efforts to prevent their birth. The fact ought to be, if it is not, common knowledge; yet the sale of the infamous drugs, necessary to the crime, by pennyworths, in every drug-store, is tacitly sanctioned by the community. Professor Sadler's[111] determination to direct attention to the requirements of our adolescents has aroused such response, that excuse is now impossible for ignoring the detrimental effects upon young people of unskilled, exhausting "blind alley" work, or of removing prematurely the restraint of moral discipline and systematised training.[112] Statistics show not only the economic disasters which result from the unsatisfactory methods of past years; they bring home also the steady increase in the percentage of the proportion of nervous instability as well as of anæmia, which interfere with the form of brain growth so rapid in adolescence (namely, increase in complexity of association, and in power to inhibit, to reason, and to concentrate). Another result of these investigations is to draw attention to the increase in organic heart disease, which has been shown to occur in more than thirty per cent. of the London errand boys who are engaged in prolonged work on Saturdays, as well as in out-of-school hours during the week.[113] Should not parents inform themselves diligently on these matters? for there are warnings and to spare from physician and educationalist upon this reckless wreckage of the nation's most valuable asset. It was pointed out ten years ago that the imposition of adult duties upon the child, or even upon the young adolescent, is the most effective machinery for the manufacture of the unemployed and the unemployable. Only now, however, are bye-laws being sanctioned which impose at all adequate restrictions upon child labour. For a longer period the steady migration of the rural population from country to towns has been bemoaned, as coupled with the risk lest the deterioration of the individual decline into the degeneration of the race. Nevertheless, in spite of the sustained efforts of the Rural Housing Association and of private individuals, the housing problem still lies at the root of some at least of this exodus. Miserable and inconvenient as are hundreds of our cottages, their number is still insufficient in many places to meet the demand; so perforce the young people of marriageable age must go, or the elementary code of decency must be violated. The curse of alcohol,[114] too, lies heavy on our land; it shortens life, incapacitates for work, impoverishes and degrades; visits in innumerable forms the sins of the parents upon their innocent yet grievously afflicted children; promotes crime and perverts judgment. Each year brings more statistical and biological evidence of its enduring and deteriorating effects upon humanity. It seems strange, therefore, that the law to insist upon the provision of an adequate water supply for every dwelling remains entirely insufficient to meet the most urgent needs of many town streets as well as country villages. Cleanliness is consequently impossible, and the public-house must be perforce frequented, for it provides a beverage more palatable and perhaps as wholesome as the cottager's nearest supply. XI. THE SOURCE OF THESE CAUSES TO BE FOUND IN FAULTY ADMINISTRATION OF THE HOME May not the causes of some considerable proportion of this apathy be traced to a want of popular faith in the teachings of hygiene? Is not one source of the prevalent unbelief in its tenets to be found in the widespread ignorance of the right administration of human life in the home, which turns out therefore a product of unhealthy, inharmonious citizens, who are a source of weakness to their country and a menace to civilisation? How could it be otherwise? If the cradle of life be defective, and its occupants be debilitated, it is not the nurslings alone upon whom the penalties will fall; whereas if home administration be guided by intelligence, and the quality of the inmates be high, individual and national prosperity are assured. The burden of responsibility or the privilege of promoting progress (according to the spirit in which obligations are assumed) rests with those who propose to be or already are parents; they being influenced in their turn by the educational and social conditions of their surroundings. Parental care and intelligent home management are thus intimately concerned with the physical evolution of the race, as well as with its moral development. They must, therefore, assume an increasing rather than a diminishing importance, if the full development of potentialities is to be insured in the rising generation, and racial progress promoted. Any proclivity to depreciate the dignity or to undermine the influence of these institutions must be carefully examined and, if necessary, sternly repressed. The fact that such tendencies show signs of sprouting is, it seems to me, a serious reflection upon the parental and domestic methods of the day. There is no smoke without fuel; faults are rarely all on one side; the young are not necessarily always in the wrong; therefore, a course of self-examination into their methods and motives may be a wholesome and fruitful discipline for those who are responsible for the nature and nurture of our children, and for the stability and efficiency of adolescent and adult. The absence of elasticity and adaptation to modern requirements among the elders of a family is often responsible for miserable homes, and for much arrested development in their inmates. XII. HARMONIES AND DISHARMONIES IN HUMAN LIFE Such a condition of affairs is, however, no longer to be tolerated; for the result of research carried out during the past and present centuries has opened up a hitherto unsuspected vista of progress to mankind, if and when he is intelligent enough to establish an harmonious unison between himself and his environment. Once the jarring discords of debility, disease, and deterioration have been modulated into the major chords of health--moral and physical--the latent potentialities of his higher life will be quickened into productive activity. The misconception of humanity which has denied to it the power to rise above the level of present attainments, which has dwelt insistently upon the hopeless degradation of the body, has brought about a condition of enervating and passive fatalism, based upon the conviction that all reforming efforts must be directed solely to the preparation of one part only of man's triune nature for another and future sphere of existence. The duty and possibility of building a fit temple for man's spiritual nature here and now is the ideal of a minority to-day--in the future it will be that of an overwhelming majority; for the proofs of human capacity for progress, of man's power to control the forces of nature, are ever becoming more firmly authenticated, and all that they imply will soon become far better understood. Though our knowledge of the subject is still incomplete and often tentative, much progress has been made, for instance, in a correct conception of the means by which the physiological balance of human life is adjusted, since Metchnikoff[115] drew attention to the interference brought about in man's normal development by certain fundamental disharmonies in his constitution, of which the end is premature death, if not a pathological old age. It is quite evident that unjustifiable encroachments upon the reserve powers of the human body have been commonly permitted hitherto, and though each year brings fresh proof of the extraordinary endowment which it possesses to respond to the demands made upon it, yet each year also confirms the conviction that this reserve fund must in future be husbanded and used with economy. When these powers are constantly drawn upon the body is necessarily reduced to a lower level of health. If the metaphor be employed of the body as a building in course of erection, it becomes obvious that if one of a group of converging thrusts be much weakened or withdrawn, a skilful rearrangement of forces may meet the strain, but the total strength of the structure is reduced. In how many cases has the temple of a child's body been permanently damaged by such withdrawals, or how many adolescents are launched into life with their capital of health seriously diminished by premature calls upon its resources. The duty to maintain so far as possible a condition of physiological equilibrium in ourselves and in our children amounts to an obligation; for which reason health promotion during the plastic period of early life assumes a new importance. Of course, a certain capacity for vicarious activity is associated with the various organs of the body in order to maintain their functions against temporary failure. Healthy tissues are furnished with power to respond to increased call for exertion. How often are they most sorely abused and unwisely taxed? Even now, when made aware of these facts, we are slow to apply to the conduct of life the lessons thus taught us, and continue to be filled with self-commiseration for the results to our bodies of overtaxing their capacity for accurate readjustment. It is not possible, much less desirable, that the whole population should plunge into amateur studies of recent physiological advance, nor even that it should dabble, as its units are too much disposed to do, in pseudo-scientific pathological publications. But it is both possible and desirable for all who assume the direction of their own lives or those of children to "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest" some fruits of the labours of others in the garden of health. Were there one fixed standard of health to which all could attain, the practice of hygiene would be attended by a charming simplicity. Unfortunately, modern science forces us to conclude that each individual can only reach his own particular standard of well-being. The grades of health are consequently infinite in number, and the task which devolves on parents and guardians to secure that the standard possible to each child under their care be attained is no light one. So general is the blindness to these truths, that the degree of health enjoyed is in most cases far below the possible standard; the results of ancestral vice, of parental ignorance, or of defective environment having sapped prematurely the springs of progressive potentiality.[116] The mental and physical balance is thus rendered relatively less stable and the powers of resistance to adverse conditions are diminished. Happily, by virtue of its inherent power, but strictly in proportion to the vigour of this power, an organism is usually able to strike a new balance; for the capacity to regain its equilibrium is exquisitely delicate in human nature, _if_ the change be neither too sudden nor too severe. Throughout life this process of self-adaptation to the presence of morbid influences is constantly exercising its protective power. If, however, the effort to overcome disadvantageous conditions be very great or much prolonged, the life of the individual is never quite so vigorous and symmetrical as it might and should have been. In a luminous address, delivered at the University of Leeds some few months ago,[117] Lord Justice Fletcher Moulton instituted a comparison between the human organism, which invariably tends to swing back to the normal whenever the balance of health is disturbed, and a ship which has safely weathered a stormy voyage. The ship, he writes, "is not stable, if stability means that she can defy the forces that bear on her to move her from her normal upright position, for ... the slightest roll of the sea ... will make her heel over. But she is stable, because when made to lean over, there is thereby generated a system of forces tending to return her to her place, which grows greater the greater is the displacement, and thus ultimately becomes sufficient to overpower the disturbing forces.... As the ship arrives safely, her construction must be such that disturbances tend to right themselves when stability is seriously endangered. Some corresponding righting force also tends to bring back an organism to its normal state." The caution may not be amiss that the amplitude of the swing of a human pendulum, as well as the accuracy of its final balance, depends not only upon inherited nature and the amount of reserve force possessed, but will be stable or feeble, durable or transient, according to the influence of environment. In what way, it will be asked, can individual capacity for health be gauged? to what degree can the power to progress or to resist encroachments be strengthened? at what age is intelligent supervision most important? No concise and conclusive answers can be given to these most natural inquiries, but much light has been recently thrown upon the long duration of immaturity and associated instability in mankind; upon the power of self-protection inherent in the body;[118] upon the influence thereon of its environment; upon the penetrating power of heredity; and upon the urgent importance of the adolescent period. Further, it appears that the healthful body is equipped to withstand the attack of the bacteria of most diseases, though the mechanism of self-defence is of more kinds than one. Of the different pathological bacteria identified up to the present, for instance, some appear to be eminently sensible to one kind of action of normal blood fluids, while they are in a much less measure sensible, or are, perhaps, entirely insensible to others; a complication which enhances our respectful admiration for the marvellous and intricate system which provides for our bodily welfare. Obviously, human nature would be practically immune from disease if this protective machinery were always in good working order: unfortunately this is not invariably the case--hence disease. It is the duty of hygiene to insure constant physical equilibrium, but the intricate tactics of Nature are as yet so imperfectly understood that man is not yet an ally of great worth in her operations. Nevertheless, the perception that the secret of individual health lies in fostering the resistant or protective elements, which should be present in normal blood, marks a great step in advance; for from it have originated measures to curtail the course of an illness and to reduce the risk of its recurrence. It is hardly Utopian to forecast, as Sir Almroth Wright has done, that the physician of the future will take upon himself a still higher rôle than he has hitherto assumed in this work of the prevention of ill-health, for he will attempt, by means of systematically strengthening individual capacity for resistance to disease, to remove the necessity for curing those who have fallen victims to its attacks. The gain in health, in happiness, in time and in money would be incalculable. For instance, had the death-rate _all_ over England during 1908 stood at 13.8 per thousand, instead of at favoured places only, no less than 33,831 lives would have been saved. Of these deaths, one-fifth were those of infants under twelve months old, the majority of them wholly preventable. What a reckless waste of racial and national capital; what an unnecessary cause of bitter sorrow and disappointment; what a source of unprofitable expenditure! The calculation has been made that for each death there are at least six cases of more or less serious illness, involving confinement to bed for a few days or a few weeks as the case may be. A simple multiplication sum will enable the reader to estimate the amount of serious illness represented by the total arrived at: the loss in time, health, happiness and efficiency is incalculable. The bright prospects for human health in the future, therefore, rely largely upon the use which will be made of this protective machinery, and the prospective gain to humanity lies in the hope that when family histories are kept systematically and the inherited tendencies of a child are far more accurately known, the invading forces of disease will never get a footing, because precautions to strengthen the body's own defensive powers will be taken as a matter of routine practice. The physiological balance being thus preserved from disturbance, the great fund of energy now utilised to resist encroachments will be available for productive purposes. So great a reformation cannot of course be brought about till shame is felt for the scandalously low standard of health now common among all classes, nor until a general determination is developed to remove the minor miseries from which we all suffer more or less impatiently. XIII. THE IMPORTANCE OF MENTAL HYGIENE IN FAMILY LIFE The result of a curious obtuseness to the economics of personal and domestic hygiene is also responsible for another serious dereliction of parental duty, by which health and progress have been grievously, though quite unnecessarily and constantly, hampered. I refer to the general failure to economise nervous energy or to take any interest in what is rightly called mental hygiene. Yet Press and people alike deplore the evident increase of mental abnormalities, and anticipate the future with undisguised anxiety. It has been well said that though men carry more of the wood, women carry not less of the worries of life. They _may_ in some cases escape the physical toil which strengthens; they do _not_ escape the mental toil which demoralises and kills spirit and energy if not body and health. Now, though the brain tissues do not create mental activities, nevertheless we all know that they are conditioned in some inexplicable way by that organ. Derangement in any part of the brain deranges or diminishes its functions; non-development in any part of the brain can and does arrest mind growth. Chronic over-fatigue and exhaustion, anæmia however produced, the circulation through the nervous tissues of impure blood, alter the character of the mental processes. The results of starvation may so distort them, that the horrors of the French Revolution are attributed by some authorities to this particular cause. That the imperfect lymph circulation associated with adenoid vegetations accounts for much so-called stupidity is one of the first fruits of the medical inspection of school children; that a severe shock may destroy intelligence is a fact familiar to every expert in mental hygiene. If it were generally known to parents that every impression received by this, the most sensitive of all organs, is stored up from early infancy, albeit subconsciously, and can at some future time rise up into the field of consciousness, influencing both thought and action for good or ill, a very different line of conduct would be taken towards the persons or the places which make up a young child's surroundings and most indelibly impress his brain cells. It is surely time, therefore, that some broad outline of the process of normal development of the whole nervous system should be possessed by all in charge of children. Every mother, for example, should know that the movements of a new-born baby, such as the facial contortions observed during sleep, or the stretching and bending of the limbs in very young infants, involuntary and automatic in character, constitute the simplest form of nervous activity. They are the necessary precursors of that intellectual ability, to the development of which parental ambitions aspire, and should merge into more advanced forms of nerve and muscle co-ordination, which, rightly utilised, are invaluable agents in infant education.[119] An intelligent nurse possessed of even this outline could begin quite early that training in physiological righteousness and in the strict voluntary control of the whole group of emotional expressions, of which, as a little reflection will quickly show, good manners largely consist. Presently, as the brain cells are stimulated into function by nutrition and a quicker and more extensive recognition of external sensations is acquired, a child will perform instinctive movements, such as sitting, crawling, standing, walking, jumping and throwing. Though considerable latitude must be allowed for their wide individual variation, failure to display these evidences of mental progress should call for careful investigation. Later on, skill in a hundred different forms of muscular activity should be displayed; but many years will elapse before full control of the body in all its parts will be acquired, and more years still must roll by before reasoned control of the mental and moral actions is developed. The last years of this long period of development are, perhaps, the most critical of the whole; though all depend for their favourable fruition upon an infinity of loving care and suitable provision for their appropriate activities. There would be a marked reduction in exhausting disciplinary difficulties were every parent aware that, to the almost vegetative character of the first few post-natal months (when sleep will or should absorb at least twenty hours out of the twenty-four), will succeed a period of extraordinary activity, which lasts till about eight or nine years of age, when the mind is essentially an exploring organ; imitative, impressionable, retentive. Every legitimate opportunity for the liberal gratification of these characteristics should be provided, as well as suitable surroundings for the eager, inquiring brain. Elaborate toys are not necessary, nor is premature book-learning permissible; but freedom to investigate, to experiment, to test, to explore, is the child's urgent need, as well as suitable arrangements for the intervening periods of profound sleep. Repressed activity is often responsible for breaches of discipline; so is insufficient sleep, following on over-excitement, accountable for "temper" and passions. The next phase of growth is still distinguished by this continued capacity for and dependence upon muscular activity, but the mind becomes more reflective, more productive. The power to initiate should develop during this stage of development, as well as increased power to control mental and bodily functions; and, throughout each of these periods, there should be a steady, unintermittent formation of good habits. At first, the nature of these will be chiefly physical; the habitual performance of the bodily functions should be safeguarded, until their neglect is attended by discomfort and their violation becomes almost painful. Then, by degrees, the moral and mental nature develops. Thus is the child prepared for the stress and turmoil of the long and anxious years of adolescence; when, under the influence of new emotions, of fresh temptations, of unfamiliar powers, the character built on the sands of parental indulgence is undermined, if not swept clean away; whereas when built on the firm rock of good habits it emerges unshaken from the storm. That childhood is an honourable estate must be now evident; pregnant as it is with possibilities, pathetic in the risks associated with its plasticity and dependence. Should it therefore be necessary in the twentieth century to point out that, when the fund of nervous energy is constantly exhausted by deficient sleep and poor food; when a demand on function in advance of what nature is prepared to comply with is persistently made, as it has habitually been in our schools; when exaggerated and pernicious stimuli are allowed to fatigue and to paralyse our child population; when inadequate training in the right conduct of life is provided, and no information given on the dawning functions of potential parenthood; when premature responsibility is imposed or precocious and unwholesome independence is permitted; worst of all, when, through parental disease or alcoholism, the brain tissue is of too poor a quality to resist the strain of modern life--it is no matter for surprise that mental instability and insanity are on the increase, nor that degenerates hamper by their helplessness and crime the productive capacity of the normal. The importance of mental hygiene calls for no more emphasis on my part; though, did space permit, further illustrations might be given of its scope. It includes the methods in our nurseries, the curriculum of our schools, the care of our adolescents, the increasing differentiation of our industrial processes, the character of our often miscalled recreations. It is concerned with the warding off of nervous breakdowns, and, with Goethe, it would call the attention of all women to the fact that the secret of rest is found not "in quitting a busy career, but rather the fitting of self to one's sphere." It views with anxiety the growing disregard of religious obligations and restraints, and emphasises the grave antenatal responsibilities of parents for their offspring; they who should be the most ardent advocates of a sound heredity, as well as the promoters of a good home environment for their children. XIV. WOMAN'S RESPONSIBILITIES FOR HOME ADMINISTRATION Thus, though the human constitution is still imperfectly understood, though its intricacies and the details of environmental influences are still mainly undefined, the women of every nation must nevertheless see to it that progress in the administration of the home keeps pace with modern demands for revised methods and less conservative practice, in order to give every chance of normal health to their occupants. It is a serious reflection upon many housekeepers that the hall-mark of progressive civilisation, namely growth in power to organise, is generally absent from their domestic methods. The time will come when it will be to them a matter for the deepest searchings of heart that they are directly and inexcusably responsible for a mass of the disharmonies which disfigure the fugue of family life. The fact is too certain to be denied. Homes have not developed in proportion to the opportunities offered, and the chief opponents to progress have been their organisers. The economic link they form between the physical economics of the individual and the social economics of the nation has been unnoticed. Reference to the hygienic significance of due economy of time, of strength and of health, as well as of money, has hitherto been generally met with incredulous smiles; and though home has been extolled as the place for children, how scant has been the attention devoted to their legitimate requirements, and how few demands for special training have emanated from, or been attempted by, those who have undertaken the sole charge of young lives during their most important and impressionable years. The new movement, designed to foster the science and art of right living, cannot gain strength and influence unless it receives the whole-hearted support of the millions of women whose lives and energies are absorbed in the care of man's physical needs. It behoves _them_ to recognise that intuition and tireless industry are insufficient qualifications for their imperial service, and they must themselves promote the substitution of systematic training for rule-of-thumb anomalies. This training must be varied and comprehensive. No other profession is concerned with so many interests nor associated with more fateful responsibilities. For those who can afford the time, it should include a general acquaintance with the biological basis of life, and should further direct attention to the vast mental and moral endowments which give pre-eminence to our race. The products of literature and art and the records of natural and moral science afford ever present evidence of the extent of these endowments, and of the executive capacity associated with their utilisation. Chemistry must play a prominent part in the training, were it only for the insight it gives into the inviolable law of cause and effect! besides which physiologists tell us that the chief commerce of our bodies with their environment is chemical; therefore, this subject becomes an indispensable element in any comprehensive course of domestic training. Without a working acquaintance with the physics of water, of heat, or of air, a housewife is at the mercy of her architect, if not of her plumber and her servants. In the absence of an introduction to bacteriology she lives in constant perplexity over the vagaries of her larder; and is at a loss to understand the sources of fermentation or the methods of infection by the majority of known diseases. Without an insight into economics she is helpless in the hands of the advertiser or the vendor of patent preparations, all of whose wares are warranted to perform impossible feats with an infinitesimal expenditure of trouble. At their best these preparations are expensive, and at their worst they are injurious to health. Some personal practice of the domestic arts is also advisable even for the wealthy; it is indeed essential to a right adjustment of the daily duties in a home, though naturally the degree of skill acquired will depend on the style of living. A study of hygiene in sufficient detail is of course imperative, and while it will remove difficulties by explaining common errors in diet, habits, and dress, it will be found materially to lighten labour. Finally, hygiene will render extraordinary assistance in the right rearing of children and in the general arrangements of family life. The objections may here be advanced that the study of these scientific subjects is uncongenial to those whose temperaments are artistic or literary; upon these people sanitary science has surely meagre claims, while life is not long enough for all to pursue such exhaustive studies. The reply to the first objection must be in the negative. There can be no health under modern conditions of existence unless those who assume responsibility in the affairs of men possess a scientific acquaintance with its right regulation. The subjects just enumerated are the very pillars which support the temple of Hygeia. But, for the encouragement of these complainants, be it added that the temple walls demand decoration; the shelves must be filled with wholesome mental provender; the gifts of both artist and author are therefore contributory to harmonious living, and an unlimited scope is offered to their utilisation. The building which shelters a healthy family, for instance, should be characterised not only by advances on existing provisions for convenience but by symmetry in its parts. The test of beauty (use, ease, and economy) can certainly not be passed by a large proportion of modern houses, neither do they provide the space which gives to each occupant "a chance to utilise his own gifts or to pursue his own hobby." Space needs in its turn regulation, for the saving of steps must be considered and compactness is essential. Decorations and furniture should also be suitable in form and colour to their purpose, not a mere heterogeneous confusion of inappropriate colours and articles, out of tune one with the other. The natural needs of normal children, too, must be more taken into account in the future than in the past, and the conveniences offered by scientific progress must be far more generally introduced into the most modest homes. Here is a huge field for intelligent, artistic work; for true beauty and real utility are near of kin. It has been said that as in the world of life the localisation of function made the organ subsequently to become responsible for that function, so may the differentiation of labour develop individual talents, just as the exercise of our vital activities has led to the differentiation of parts in a house. Thus, as satisfaction of hunger is a first necessity, eating made the kitchen, where means for the gratification of this instinct were localised. By degrees the growth of men's social and intellectual demands led to the setting apart of a chamber for conversation; that is, the parlour. Storage of bread called the pantry into existence; increased refinement necessitated a scullery for the washing of cups and platters. Centuries, however, elapsed before the enlarging personality of the individual demanded privacy for the toilet and the right to isolate himself periodically from the bustle and publicity of group life. The general provision of separate bedchambers for each unit of a household is not even yet habitual, though most desirable in the interests of health. Reparation of the omission will mark a further phase of social evolution, and will remove one disintegrating force now continually at work in home life. Here again the artist will most advantageously collaborate with landlord and with health authorities to devise means for the suitable satisfaction of this laudable demand. Further objections to the adoption of any comprehensive schemes for training housewives of all ranks are found in the apparent want of time available for the purpose and the prohibitive cost incurred if the period of education be prolonged. The best answers to both objections are found in the movement now active all over Europe and North America to furnish more and fuller opportunities for this training, and to extend, not curtail, its duration. More than this: this movement, which generally originated in the desire to improve home life among the poorest, has recently extended itself just as generally to institutions for higher education, upon whose pupils and students its claims are now recognised. There is no suggestion, for instance, in Germany or England, Norway or the United States, of restricting the education of girls by this movement or of prematurely enforcing upon them technical instruction. The growth of public opinion is due rather to a belated realisation that the end of all education is the betterment of life, and that suggested applications to the practical concerns of daily life in the course of a girl's general education make for the sounder assimilation of theory by the pupil, and are thus contrived a "double debt to pay." The progress of preventive medicine has also introduced another incentive to the diffusion of this training; for it affords convincing proofs that the foundation of the national health is laid in the home. If, however, the foundation is permitted to be imperfect the edifice must necessarily be unstable. Among other influences prejudicial to family life, the force of which was for a long time unsuspected, mention must be made of modern industrialism, the reopening of professional life to women, with its associated financial independence and the increasing seductions of society. For a century past the tendency has been to discredit housekeeping as an unsystematised occupation, which has emphasised the common and sometimes humiliating financial dependence of its representatives. The first nation to perceive the importance of stemming this dangerous tide was the United States, where conclusive demonstrations are now offered of the fact that intelligent housekeeping calls for a high degree of capacity, and that its problems demand the resources of a university for their solution. By the recognition of housecraft as a profession, American colleges accomplished even more than at first they anticipated. A satisfactory proportion of their students return to home life convinced of its scope and importance, and satisfied to perform the duties which there present themselves, instead of seeking outside occupations and divorcing themselves from family interests. The King's College Course for graduate students in Home Science and Household Economics bids fair to exercise an influence of as satisfactory, though naturally of a slightly variant, character. XV. THE FUNCTIONS OF THE HOME If the functions of the home are briefly enumerated under three heads, no hint of exaggeration will attach to the assertion that by _its_ atmosphere children are modified in soul and body, and that upon _its_ outlook depends the ideals and health of all its occupants. The first function of the home may be fitly defined as _Protective_. If its evolution be traced it will be found that home life originated in a craving for warmth, safety, and shelter; in the desire for a place where the weary could rest and where security from ill was assured. Physical comfort, sympathy and sanctuary are, or should be, primary characteristics of every home. The second function of the home is _Educational_. It is largely responsible for the systematic formation of good habits, which should here be stimulated by example and precept, and every advantage taken of the imitative instincts so powerful in early life. Within its precincts care can be exercised to afford opportunity for the development of individuality; it is also, _par excellence_, the place for early training in the judicious expenditure of energy and in the acquirement of self-control. Such training improves brain power, relieves nervous tension, and obviates the tendency to mental and moral confusion and disorderliness which is associated with its absence. In a good home the child's sanitary education should be fairly complete, at least in its main principles, before the infection of bad habits from without can interfere with automatic practice or weaken faith in home standards and conduct. Regular washing of the teeth, for instance, should be early inculcated, and rigid conscientiousness in matters of personal cleanliness:--external, by bathing, rubbing, and brushing; internal, by strict daily attention to the bodily functions. Slow and thorough mastication of food should be cultivated, as well as good habits of posture, of enunciation, and of regular exercise. Last, but not least, habits of prompt and cheerful obedience, of truthfulness, and in due course of moral purity, must be wrought into the very fibre of a child's being. The discipline of home ought to be above all things consistent; gentle, though firm and well considered. The virtues of obedience, of self-restraint, and of respect for others should become instinctive almost from infancy; for they sow the seeds of physical morality in later life. The third function of the home is _Social_. Before the present era of "only" children, the exaggerated individualism was uncommon, of which many of them are now unfortunately the victims. When large families were the fashion, the give-and-take in nursery and schoolroom gave early training in the duty of participation in the interests, the pleasures, or the sorrows of others; it rubbed off the rough angles of selfishness and gave invaluable lessons in consideration for those whose circumstances varied from immediate individual experience. The wider social sphere, for which much of the rough and tumble of family life was an excellent preparation, was not familiar then to young children as it is now, when the modern child's premature introduction to its attractions is not only a constant source of physical detriment and of mental exhaustion, but tends to disguise its real character and to stimulate precociously the capacity to respond to its demands. Occasional glimpses of this larger life are a desirable part of home education; but constant familiarity with its excitements is to be sternly deprecated in the causes of health and of mental stability. Where and when, then, are "only" children to receive this necessary social training, occupants as they are of solitary nurseries; or where are these qualities to be developed in the millions of children reared under circumstances of such acute overcrowding and poverty that the amenities of life are obscured by its fierce and exhausting conditions? Observation shows that the function of accomplishing this training is steadily devolving upon the school. Unfortunately, though the school _does_ offer necessary opportunities for social intercourse, this intercourse is relatively of an advanced type, which presupposes some previous training in the more elementary principles of community life, most fitly acquired at home. This tendency to force the school to _supplant_ instead of to _supplement_ home training must be resisted, as it involves loss to parents as well as to the children themselves. The stress here laid upon the social function of the home may seem to some exaggerated, and its association with the subject of this paper may appear far-fetched; but to the writer its pressing importance calls for this emphasis, for its connection with habits of sanitary practice within and without the home is of the closest. The social spirit is the very essence of sympathy; it exercises the imagination, it widens the horizon, it quickens the sense of duty and of self-respect. If graduation through the school of domestic, social training be omitted in childhood, the realisation of personal responsibility is too often indefinitely postponed. Consideration for others, care for their welfare and personal sacrifice for their protection, must ever bulk largely in importance throughout life, and must always be associated with self-respect and self-control. When this sense of personal responsibility is habitual, conduct which makes for limitations of health in self, family, or neighbours will appear unjustifiable; and neglect of either domestic or civic duties will become as unpardonable as it is unpatriotic. But antecedent to the attainment of this ideal, fundamental even to its entertainment, is the adjustment or readjustment of home influences or methods, as the case may be, to a higher standard. A better understanding of the constitution of those for whose welfare the home is established must also be insisted upon as an integral part of general education. It may be wise to point out that no proposal to sweep away in wholesale fashion all the domestic traditions and family methods of this or any other phase of civilisation is even suggested. Apart from the impossibility of such a holocaust, treasures of great worth have been handed on to us by our forebears, of which the majority only need some slight readjustment to enrich many generations yet to come. To take a somewhat extreme example. The mention of such homely, old-fashioned, domestic remedies as black-currant tea for a bad cough, or soap and sugar plasters for a boil--genuine relics from our grandmothers--now usually excite a smile of derision; nevertheless they have been instanced by one of our most able living pathologists[120] for their admirable adaptation to their purpose, and have been shown to rest upon a hitherto unsuspected basis of physiological therapeutics. Another illustration may be drawn from the nursery tradition that bad temper is often effectually cured by a dose of rhubarb.[121] Carefully conducted observations upon children confirm the conventional connection of peevishness with disordered digestion. It has been found that gastric indigestion produces oversensitiveness, fretfulness, and irritability, while chronic constipation results in erratic conduct, stupidity, languor, headache, and moodiness. These effects may be so far-reaching that, for no other reason than chronic constipation, children may lose a large proportion of the advantages provided in school life; they may even run the risk of being classed as "backward," from the interference with mental progress of the food poisons reabsorbed into their circulation. Modern methods of child training lay great emphasis upon the prevention of these or kindred conditions by early formation of good habits; or, when carelessness necessitates curative treatment, our old nurse's panacea of drugs is the last resort; the first consists in attempts to re-establish normal functions by the more natural means of suited food and special exercise. It is time, too, that the so-called "hardening fallacies," responsible for the maiming of countless lives, were finally exposed and exploded. The idea, for example, dies hard that beneficial endurance is cultivated by exposure to cold; therefore, bare necks, arms and legs are lauded as means of developing a Spartan spirit in young children. Now no profound study of hygiene is required to demonstrate the close interdependence of warmth with growth and nutrition, or to show that the chilly and underclothed, sedentary child is both stunted and starved; whereas the suitably clothed and freely active child is able to carry on unhampered the necessary processes of growth and development.[122] So important is warmth to the infant, that _eighty per cent._ of the total energy derived from its food is utilised for the maintenance of the body temperature essential to growth and for the activities of the organic and muscular systems. Children, in accordance with the law of the relation between mass and surface in a cube, have, relatively to their mass, about thrice the body surface possessed by an adult. The greatest loss of heat occurs by radiation from the skin and by the evaporation of sweat, therefore undue loss from this extensive area should be prevented by its suitable covering; otherwise the child is placed at a far more serious disadvantage than would be suffered by an adult similarly situated; for in his case growth as well as equilibrium must be maintained. Few parents realise the further fact that the power of heat regulation is very imperfect at birth; indeed its slow development accounts for the instability of a child's temperature for many years after. The fallacy therefore of seeking to strengthen a young life by inadequate clothing, by enforced and prolonged inactivity, or by abstinence from the source of all energy--food--must be persistently exposed. Quite recently, also, Dr. Eurich has advanced evidence to show that the quality of sleep is adversely affected where the sleeper is insufficiently protected from cold, thus emphasising the injury to health associated with going to bed with cold feet. All parents are ambitious that their offspring shall be distinguished by the energy, the stability, the endurance and the power which characterise the cream of humanity. The lives of young people are carefully planned with this object in view. The waking hours of most girls and boys are distributed in ordered sequence between what is intended to be concentrated work and vigorous more or less exciting play. But the fact has been very commonly ignored that these young people are built up of young cells, which cells are passing through almost every conceivable phase of instability in the course of development; consequently recurring periods of leisure and rest are as important to nutrition and nervous stability, more especially in the case of girls, as are the most elaborate arrangements for exercise. Thus it comes about that many youths and maidens suffer from chronic though unrecognised fatigue, while others are unable to employ pleasurably even a short space of "time to themselves," finding no interest in occupations from which excitement is absent. The habitual limitation of the hours of sleep among the rising generation is equally serious. The loss which would be unbearable,[123] says Dr. Acland, even among our most favoured children, were it not for the indulgence permitted them during their long holidays. Is it not a parental duty to insist upon the necessary provision for rest being made in every school, and ought not inviolable rules upon the subject be laid down in their home circles? Sleep, be it remembered, is the property of animals possessed of brains and endowed with consciousness; it affords mechanical rest, and is accompanied by a respite from the chemical changes which are particularly rapid during childhood and adolescence. The intense activity of the child's waking hours must be counterbalanced by ample periods of entire rest. Habits of prolonged profound sleep are said to be the best investment against mental instability and insanity; yet parents permit a constant loss of from two to four hours' sleep each night throughout the long period of immaturity.[124] Our newspapers and lunatic asylums bear evidence to the price paid for this now inexcusable carelessness. Many more examples might be given of similar fallacies which apply to later periods of life. How soon will a loving daughter allow herself to learn that the consumption of large quantities of highly nutritious food will not make for the prolongation of an aged parent's life? The fact that abstemiousness and rigid conformity to the "simple life" are not coincidents of longevity, but contributory to it, should be now common knowledge. When will the day come that the fact will be accepted that alcohol does not warm and protect the consumer, but actually lowers the temperature, and by this means, in cold weather, renders him a more ready prey to the effects of exposure. When will the value of good work cease to be measured by the exhaustion it brings about or the breakdown to which it conduces? Is it not, time that the housewife should be abashed rather than self-commiserating when a bad cold runs through her household, for observation of certain elementary principles of disinfection would go far to avert such a catastrophe? When will the fallacy be destroyed which gauges the strength of a disinfectant by the pungency of its odour? The knowledge now available on these and many other points only awaits assimilation by the housekeepers of the empire, to serve as a powerful lever by which to raise the standard of health in its every part. XVI. HOME LIFE AN IMPORTANT SPHERE FOR SANITARY SCIENCE The urgent call for a more intimate acquaintance with these tenets of domestic sanitary science calls for no further examples, though at the risk of wearying the reader one or two more may be selected to illustrate their claims upon every member of a household. It behoves the householder, in the first place, to choose his dwelling with care; and, in the second, to maintain the health of its inmates by his own conduct and by compliance with the requirements of public health enactments. He must be generally acquainted, therefore, with the essentials of a healthy home and with the obligations he must fulfil or the demands he may legitimately make upon local authorities and neighbours; otherwise he cannot insure that his own care is not frustrated by derelictions of duty on the part of others. The selection and purchase of the family's food will probably devolve upon his wife, but it rests with him to insist that this food is produced, transported or distributed, with due observance of cleanliness, and that reliable protection from sophistication or adulteration is maintained. If conformity to necessary standards as well as the good quality of their products is to be safeguarded, the premises of dairy, bakehouse, slaughter-house, laundry, market, and local purveyor of goods should come under his intelligent inspection. The surroundings as well as the conveniences of a house also call for careful consideration, especially when some of its inmates are of tender years; and the reminder that to the provision for light and air in its rooms must be assigned a greater prominence than the mere prettiness of external elevation is still necessary. It is the householder who for some time to come must from his wider knowledge of economics personally safeguard his women-folk from unnecessary exertion and chronic fatigue, by the provision of efficient fittings and equipment, by a judicious expenditure upon labour-saving devices, and by insistence upon adequate rest, recreation, and remuneration. To the graduate in the school of personal experience the duty of public service will next arise, in order that the advantages enjoyed in his own home may be extended to those for whom cheap housing must be provided. Civic claims must in the near future appear much more prominently than hitherto in the balance-sheet of duty. The necessity for a study of child life and its requirements ought to be realised by both parents before the bitter results of inexperience have permanently shadowed their home. This should be pursued by the man as well as the woman before marriage is consummated, if their offspring is to be "well born" and well nurtured. Maternal care is of course the more conspicuous during the first ten years of a child's life; but during the next fifteen, more especially in the case of his sons, it is the father's example, sympathy, and companionship which will steer them healthily through the stormy seas of adolescence, which will safeguard them from pernicious habits and will extend a helping hand in moments of temptation. To enumerate the opportunities for hygienic practice by the prime organiser of domestic methods--the mother--is almost superfluous at this point. It is the foundation upon which depends the welfare of each member of a household; for it is the housekeeper who plans the food and is responsible for its character and suitability to age, season, health, and occupation. It is she who superintends, if she does not carry out, the details of cleanliness, so arduous and discouraging in our great cities. It is she who selects the clothing of her family; who directs the order of their lives:--their work and play, their rest and exercise, their sleep and their habits. It is her place to shake faith in popular patent preparations, by good reasons and demonstrations of their exaggerated claims on purse and person.[125] It is her example which sets the tone in recreation, pursuit of hobby, or choice of literature. It is her infinite, understanding patience which cements breaches in family love; it is her skilful treatment which heals wounds, spiritual as well as physical. It is her privilege to devise better methods for daily doings and to appreciate the principles of sound economics. It falls on her to discourage futile expenditure of health, time, or temper; to be alive to possibilities of progress; to show by her deeds how profound is her faith in the dignity of a home-maker and her recognition of the extraordinary demands made by her profession on intelligence, moral capacity, and mental attainments. It has been slowly dawning upon some minds for half a century at least that kitchen methods in many of their details fail to meet the requirements of sanitary science. The ordinary cook does not even suspect what cleanliness means from the laboratory point of view; neither, alas! does her mistress, in the case of 90 per cent. of middle-class housekeepers. Both alike cheerfully ignore the relative value as cleansing agents of boiling as compared with "scalding" water; and refer to the broad shoulders of the weather or, quite frankly, to bad luck, the waste of food directly attributable to ignorant and uncleanly methods in market, purveyor's cart, or scullery. Yet no valid excuse can now be offered for ignorance of the real causes of the souring of milk, the tainting of meat, or the decay of vegetables; neither is it permissible to entrust to the untrained the care of larder and refrigerator, except under intelligent supervision. It is of course a sign of progress that the modern housewife prides herself upon the delivery of the daily milk supply in bottles. But a quite superficial acquaintance with bacteriology would show the imperfect character of such a protection. The milk may still be poured by the cook from the unwashed mouth of a bottle, grasped, even if but momentarily, by the hand of a milkman, which shortly before was caressing his horse or serving him as a substitute for a pocket-handkerchief! When the numerous uses of paper in the kitchen are considered, the advantage of a scientific acquaintance with its constituents and absorbent properties should hardly need emphasis. But the _laissez-faire_ attitude, common in many households, permits newspaper or brown-paper bags of questionable antecedents to be used indiscriminately for the lining of cake tins or the draining of fried foods. Should this be tolerated any longer? A sounder knowledge of the risks to health associated with unwholesome food would surely check the growing disposition to purchase provisions over the telephone, instead of by personal inspection and careful selection; for the risks associated with stale vegetables or with "woolly" fish would be recognised, in the light of this fuller knowledge, as too serious to be encountered by any one responsible for the health of a household. Again, cold storage is so justly credited with the numerous and unquestionable benefits which it confers upon the housewife, that she is apt to forget the coincident dangers; only through tardily acquired experience does she become aware that foods which are thawed after freezing possess a singular faculty for rapid deterioration, and undergo subtle and detrimental changes when so preserved over a long period. No excuse for continued ignorance as to the changes responsible for such deterioration is now permissible; neither can it be condoned in connection with the "flora" of the refrigerator, now known to be accountable for the unpleasant and all-pervading flavours of the food stored in such a receptacle, and itself the product of defective cleanliness. The idiosyncrasies of different groceries, as regards temperature and receptacles, have hitherto received no attention, though the art of preserving fruits, fresh as well as dried, is better appreciated than was formerly the case. It would be easy to show, too, did space permit, what ample scope there is for the application of sanitary science in the storeroom, as well as the true hygienic inwardness of frequent coats of limewash in larder and scullery, not to mention the worth of impervious coverings to their wall surfaces and shelves. This suggests the inquiry: How many women to-day are versed in the external tests, simple as some of them are, which can be applied to tins containing foodstuffs, with the object of gauging the quality of their contents; or who among our ordinary housewives understands the reasons for the employment of reliable, _domestic_ methods of preserving the contents of the larder, such as sterilisation by the use of heat, or why fat, sugar, salt, or vinegar are preferable to the seductive yet questionable chemicals, so attractive to the producer and purveyor of provisions? A better understanding of the relation of sanitary science to daily life would also facilitate some of the painful steps which must inevitably be taken, in order to bridge the gulf set between the feudal methods of the past and the modern problems of domestic service. That the isolation from her kind of a "general" servant predisposes to anæmia is stated as a fact on good authority, but it is certainly not generally known. That absence of opportunity for recreation or social intercourse has led and may lead again to deception, if not to worse, is recognised unwillingly, if at all. That human nature is physiologically similar, however diverse its external appearance and standards, is very hard to realise or to act upon; so the fact that suitable provision for bathing and wholesome sleep by dependents is not always made, is apt to be ignored on economic grounds; and the resultant complications are assigned to any but their real cause. The solution of another of the acute problems of the day depends upon the women also of this country. I refer to the character of the influence, an influence of the most intimate, to which young children are subjected during infancy. In addition to vulgarities of conduct or enunciation, actual moral harm may be suffered from want of care in the choice of a child's attendant. Bad habits, impossible to eradicate, are to be traced to this source only. Their hygienic import calls for no further stress. Their prevention rests entirely with the child's parents. Another illustration of the need for a better acquaintance with hygiene is found in the general custom of entrusting the preparation and care of the daily diet to empirically prepared, ill-informed, young women. Ascertained facts in connection with, for instance, "typhoid carriers"[126] should have surely created almost a panic in the households of England; but it is rare to learn that even one mistress has inquired into the personal habits of her cook, or that she has concerned herself personally in the cultivation of most careful attention to necessary hand-washing by her household. A mere tyro in sanitary science would take warning and be on her guard against this and other disgusting and preventable sources of domestic infection. Finally, the protective function of the home must not be allowed to obscure the educational and social. It is the right of all children to be trained in habits of social, as well as of family, sanitary service. Very early the love of ceaseless doing, by which these little people are distinguished, can be taken hold of as an agent in this department of education. Habits of neatness and order, of kindness and ready help, of self-sacrifice and self-control, become lifelong in their persistence and develop a physical as well as moral conscience which makes for public health. But, without appropriate stimulus this interest in others, this sense of civic obligation, remains in abeyance. Therefore girls should be encouraged in the educational practice of the domestic arts about the age of thirteen or fourteen; though instruction in the care of children may be postponed for a year or two. Always it should precede marriage and be adapted to the prospective social sphere of the pupils. It would be advantageous to foster the interest of boys in social sanitation by the introduction of some equivalent training into their curriculum. Enough has been said to show that knowledge of household administration must soon become an indispensable qualification for any woman who undertakes the charge of human lives, whether it be as wife or guardian, as official or philanthropist, as physician or educator, as head of an institution (such as orphanage, asylum, hospital or prison), or as almoner of public funds. To be practical and influential this comprehensive subject must be systematically acquired and securely based; it must be accorded the support of men, and it must receive the recognition due to its imperial importance. Thus sustained and fortified, acquaintance with all that is comprehended in the domestic administration for good of human lives will lead our women to redeem their many shortcomings in the past, and will stimulate them to assume with courageous confidence their weighty responsibilities in the present and future. Whether prepared or not for their discharge, these responsibilities cannot be evaded. Upon their capable fulfilment depend human health and happiness. "Health and good estate of body are above all gold," said Ecclesiasticus, "and a strong body above infinite wealth." Seen in its true light this great, beautiful, responsible work becomes the highest form of consecrated service to the Source of all Life and to the Giver of all those good things which humanity is intended richly to enjoy. FOOTNOTES: [91] "Darwinism and Human Life," by J. Arthur Thomson, M.A., &c. (Andrew Melrose.) [92] "The Descent of Man," by Charles Darwin. (J. Murray.) [93] "Hereditary Genius," by Sir Francis Galton. [94] "Heredity," by Prof. A. Thomson. (J. Murray.) [95] "English Sanitary Institutions," chap. viii., "The Growth of Humanity in British Politics." Sir J. Simon. (Cassell & Co.) [96] _Les Pouvoirs en Matière d'Hygiène_--Part i. _L'Hygiène dans les Législations de l'Antiquité._ Alfred Filassier. (Paris: Jules Rousset.) [97] "English Sanitary Institutions," part i. chap. i. Sir John Simon. (Cassell & Co.) [98] "English Sanitary Institutions," part i. chaps. iii., iv., v., vi. Sir John Simon. (Cassell & Co.) [99] "The Family and the Nation," chap. i. Whetham. (Longmans.) [100] "Selected Essays and Addresses by Sir James Paget, F.R.S."--"The Chronometry of Life," Royal Society Croonian Lecture, May 1859. Edited by Stephen Paget, F.R.C.S. (Longmans & Co.) [101] "The Diurnal Course of Efficiency." Howard D. Marsh. (The Science Press, N.Y.) [102] "Social Psychology," section ii. chap. x. William McDougall. (Methuen.) [103] "The Family," Lecture i. E. C. Parsons. (Putnam.) [104] "The Family," Lecture ii. E. C. Parsons. (Putnam.) [105] "The Family," part i. chap. ix. Helen Bosanquet. (Macmillan and Co.) [106] "The Hygiene of Mind," chap. iv. T. S. Clouston. (Methuen.) [107] "Report of the Inter-Departmental Committee on the Employment of School Children, appointed by H. M. Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department," 1901. "Report of the Royal Commission on Physical Training (Scotland)," 1903, Neill & Co., Ltd., Bellevue, Edinburgh. "Report of the Inter-Departmental Committee on Physical Deterioration," 1904. "Report of the Inter-Departmental Committee on the Model Course of Physical Exercises," 1904. "Report of the Inter-Departmental Committee on Medical Inspection and Feeding of Children attending Public Elementary Schools," 1905. "Report of Dr. W. Leslie Mackenzie and Captain A. Foster on a Collection of Statistics as to the Physical Condition of Children attending the Public Schools of the School Board for Glasgow," 1907. "Report of the Royal Commission on the Care and Control of the Feeble-minded," 1908. "Report of the Royal Commission on the Poor Laws and the Unemployed--Majority and Minority," 1909.[108] [108] In each case, unless otherwise mentioned, these Reports are published by Wyman & Sons. [109] "The Hygiene School of Life," chap. viii. p. 129. Ralph H. Crowley. (Methuen.) [110] _Journal of the Royal Sanitary Institute_, April 1905--"Physical Inspection of School Children in Relation to Public Health Administration." A. K. Chalmers, M.D., M.O.H., Glasgow. [111] "Continuation Schools in England and Elsewhere." M. E. Sadler. (Manchester University Press, 1907.) [112] Report of Departmental Committee on "Employment of Children Act, 1903." (Wyman & Son, July 1910.) [113] "Report to the L.C.C. Education Committee of the Medical Officer (Schools)," March 31, 1906. (P. J. King & Son.) [114] "The Drink Problem," edited by T. N. Kelynack, M.D. (Methuen.) [115] "The Nature of Man," parts i. ii. chap. vii.; part iii. chap. xii. Metchnikoff. (Heinemann.) [116] "Principia Therapeutica," chaps. ii. iii. Harrington Sainsbury. (Methuen.) [117] "Some Thoughts on Causation in Health and Disease." An address delivered to the Faculty of Medicine, October 1909, by Lord Fletcher Moulton. [118] "Studies on Immunisation." Sir Almroth Wright, F.R.S. (Constable.) "Immunity in Infective Diseases." Metchnikoff. (Cambridge University Press.) "Immunity and Specific Therapy." W. d'Este Emery. (Lewis & Sons.) [119] "Infant Education." Eric Pritchard, M.D. (Kimpton). [120] "Studies on Immunisation," pp. 279, 462. Sir Almroth Wright, F.R.S., M.D. (Constable.) [121] "Addresses and Proceedings of the National Education Association, St. Louis, Mo.," 1904, pp. 952-962--"The Chicago Hospital School for Nervous and Delicate Children," by Mary R. Campbell. [122] "Children in Health and Disease," p. 41. David Forsyth, M.D. (Murray.) [123] "On the Hours of Sleep at Public Schools." A paper read before the Medical Officer of Schools Association, May 11, 1905, by T. D. Acland, M.A. [124] "Some Results of an Investigation into Hours of Sleep of School Children."--_International Magazine of School Hygiene_, vol. v. part i. Alice Ravenhill. [125] "Secret Remedies: What they Cost and What they Contain." British Medical Association. "Popular Drugs: Their Use and Abuse." Sidney Hellier, M.D. (Werner Laurie.) [126] "Human Carriers of Typhoid and other Zymotic Diseases."--_The Sanitary Record_, Sept. 8, 1910, pp. 215-216. MODERN WOMAN AND THE DOMESTIC ARTS BY MRS. R. W. EDDISON MEMBER, EDUCATION COMMITTEE, WEST RIDING COUNTY COUNCIL, ETC. I. NEEDLEWORK AND DRESSMAKING INTRODUCTION Modern woman finds herself in the twentieth century heiress to an accumulation of domestic experience handed down from her primitive sisters, much of which originated in necessity, and survives from custom. It is said that "of the billion and a half human beings on the earth, about 700,000,000 are females, and what share their mothers and grandmothers, back to the remotest generation, have had in originating and developing culture is a question which concerns the whole race," though allusion only can be made to it in this paper. If, from the study of anthropology, we find that man was the hunter, the killer of food, it was woman who cared for it, prepared it for use, tilled the ground, cleaned, dried, cut, and sewed skins for clothing and shelter. It is believed by many authorities that it was woman who invented and made many of the implements with which she worked, and who spun, wove, and dyed fibres of all kinds into strong, useful, and sometimes beautiful fabrics of varied and pleasing tints and colours, from dyes of her own making, which she obtained from animal and vegetable sources. The introduction of much plain and ornamental stitchery, the forerunner of the needlework of the present day, followed quickly upon the coming of textiles. Until the invention of machinery and the institution of the factory system, the practice of a large number of arts was in the hands of women as part of their lives and homes. Now, however, women are no longer leather-dressers, potters, or weavers in the home--these arts have become trades for men, carried on in factories; and even the more intimate arts of cooking, cleaning, and needlework are threatened from the outside. The cheapness and readiness with which the products of the factory can be obtained, whether for the purposes of food or of clothing, has to a large extent removed the desire to exercise these arts herself, especially from the woman whose time can be otherwise employed to her financial advantage in industrial pursuits. It would almost appear that she has failed to perceive the intellectual and æsthetic enjoyment to be derived from them, and has been content to permit the skill and knowledge she originally acquired and exercised to rust from want of practice as each generation succeeds its predecessor. On the other hand, as the accumulated profits from the factory have made it possible for well-off women to depute their own share of cooking, cleaning, sewing, and the care of children by payments to their less financially fortunate sisters, usually untrained women of narrow education, public opinion has shown a tendency to regard these arts as menial, and to some extent derogatory in practice to the educated and refined. Amongst this class of women, consequently, knowledge of these arts has steadily dwindled, until the home-made jams, jellies, cordials and pickles of our grandmothers, the linen they spun, wove, and fashioned, are no longer the glory of our storerooms and linen-presses; while the home has come to be less and less regarded as the right and proper place for instruction in the domestic arts. Deep down, however, in the modern woman's nature lies the old instinct for order, for caring for things animate and inanimate. This instinct has found expression since the early seventies among more fortunately situated women in an endeavour to arrest the decay of what I have called the more intimate household arts, to promote their revival and to raise their status in education--an endeavour due, shall we say, to "something in the air," a kind of "Zeit Geist"--beginning more or less contemporaneously on the Continent of Europe, in Great Britain, and in the United States and Canada; an endeavour not to benefit themselves alone, but to help their poorer sisters. It was soon agreed that the cultivation of the household arts belonged to education, and that they might and should be taught in schools; but the questions--What was their link with general education, by what methods they could be most appropriately taught, and in the curriculum of what schools they should find a place--have been the basis of prolonged experimental effort. It is now the opinion of a large section of persons of authority in education, that these arts are neither "sacred mysteries which can only be understood by patient life study," nor, on the other hand, can any woman, whatever her intellectual ability, master them without training. It has been well said, in effect, that the former attitude leads to a contempt for the plain everyday things of life, while the latter is responsible for the cultivation of a girl's head at the expense of her hands. The arts of cooking and cleaning took the lead in order of experiment. The results, as recorded, have proved their position to belong directly to the region of applied science, and to be worthy of a place in a specially arranged course of household science and economics for women, of university standard. We may confidently expect that this result only anticipates a corresponding triumph, awaiting in its turn similar experimental work, which has been carried on for some years in respect of the teaching also of the art of needlework. These experimental efforts include the intelligent employment of the pencil, the scissors, and the needle in the production of garments, draperies, napery, and so forth. The lines along which at the present moment this development is proceeding have regard indeed not only to the practical worth of needlecraft, but to its intimate association with general education as well as to decorative and applied art. When we inquire what have been the results of past methods of teaching needlework in our elementary schools, and find that they are in no way commensurate with the time, labour, and money spent upon them, it surely is wise to call a halt and examine into our aims and methods. The circular of "Suggestions for the Teaching of Needlework" issued by the Board of Education in August 1909 is not the first authoritative pronouncement of the Board on this matter, but is the outcome of "the well-considered criticism" invited upon their "Suggestions" on the same subject issued in 1905, which teachers and others were asked to consider as a challenge to independent thought on the subjects of which it treated. THE "PRINCIPLES" OF NEEDLEWORK This challenge has resulted in the statement of certain important "principles" in the new circular and of the proper attitude of the teacher towards them, viz.:-- I. _The duplex aspect of needlework._ 1. As a separate branch of instruction, the aim of which is proficiency. 2. As a means to an end, other than (but not excluding) a certain proficiency, _i.e._ to develop the intelligence and even to form the character of the child. II. _The subject must be made interesting_ if it is to be educational. The making of specimens is not interesting, and should be discouraged, excepting for the practice of new stitches before they can be used on a complete garment or article, however small, for the child herself or for others. III. _Correlation of needlework_ with drawing and arithmetic in the higher classes. 1. To train the eye in form and proportion. 2. To illustrate principles of arithmetic, by measuring and deciding upon quantities and by calculating cost, introducing incidentally ideas of economy and thrift. IV. _Needlework lessons are ordinarily uninteresting_ and wearisome to body and mind. This need not and should not be; if the subject is taught with the why and wherefore of things, it should rather stimulate intelligence and capacity. V. _Opportunity is afforded_ by the lesson for practically and tactfully inculcating the charm of neatness, cleanliness, and tidiness in person and in clothing, encouraging the child in self-respect and to regard as a matter of shame that any girl should reach woman's estate without a practical knowledge of the use she can make of the needle. Certain suggestions follow as a basis for a more detailed scheme, viz.:-- 1. Classification of scholars as to age and capacity. 2. Size of illustrations and use of blackboard. 3. Instruction of weakly children, and care of eyesight. 4. Exercises in knitting and various forms of constructive handwork for very young children, in preparation for definite instruction in needlework at a later age. 5. Condemnation of habit of counting threads. 6. Order of teaching "processes" in needlework, from simple to complex. 7. Suitability of materials, needles, and threads to each other, and of the style of sewing to the garments which the children should wear. 8. Direction of attention to the fact that hands and eyes which have been sensibly trained to execute "plain work" will acquire "fancy work" quite readily later on if leisure can be found. 9. New methods and stitches to be learned on waste material. 10. Importance of practice in mending at school and at home. 11. Importance of cutting-out and pattern-making. 12. Garments made to be worn, not kept at school. 13. Elaborate making-up of paper garments to be discouraged. 14. Rough sketches to train the eye to recognise the value to each other of different parts of a pattern. 15. Importance of recognition of difference between a well-cut and an ill-cut garment. 16. Calculation of kind, quantity, and cost of material to be worked out in an arithmetic lesson. 17. Note-books and records to be kept. 18. Fixing to be done by actual maker of garment--not a joint production. 19. Use of sewing machine permitted for long seams and hems. 20. No time to be wasted while waiting for teacher's help. Independent work to be encouraged. Knitting and other suitable work to be at hand. This excellent and sensible paper of suggestions means an offer of freedom on the part of the Board; it remains, therefore, but to accept and adopt its conditions. A practical difficulty, however, at once arises from the fact that, after a long period of bondage to many "Regulations," it is difficult for the teaching profession in general to realise that independent judgment is now expected of them, indeed is required, though this is a phase temporary and evanescent, which will quickly adjust itself. For lack of time and space we must here pass over the important question of the relation of the domestic arts to the general school curriculum, as well as the proportion of time to be allotted as between needlework and the other domestic arts, and dwell for a moment on the relative qualifications of our teachers in different sections of the whole subject taken at its widest, for these qualifications reflect the existing demands of the public. Taking England, for example--how do we stand with other countries in this respect? Speaking generally, and as one who, though not professionally a teacher, has for many years had a hand in the training of teachers, and who has given much time and thought to the comparative study, both theoretical and practical, of needlework and dressmaking, it seems to me that, as to sewing, we are as good, if not in some ways better than our neighbours, though we have been apt to regard the perfection of our stitches as an end in itself, which decidedly vitiates our conclusion. We also appear to have much to learn, or at least to practise, in respect of suitability of materials, needles, and threads to each other, and of the style of work to the purpose required. As to "cut" and "the hang of the thing," and the root difference between an "ill-cut" and a "well-cut" garment, I fear we make a bad third with France and Austria; but with our newly acquired freedom we can and we must change all that: the public begin to demand it. In the first place, we must clear our minds of the indefinite cloud of detail in which they have been so long submerged; or, to change the metaphor, whereas hitherto we have too often not been able to see the wood for the trees, we must now learn clearly to distinguish between "principles" and "methods," which in practice are over frequently confused: then, quite easily and naturally, the teacher will derive resulting details from the few definite principles which are the "basis alike of the simplest garment and the most artistic handicraft," and "the principles once understood, in one instance, the pupils will be able to make wider applications for themselves." It is important here to emphasise that some elementary knowledge of hygiene, physiology, and anatomy is necessary for the intelligent appreciation of the requirements of the body as to clothing, and of its alterations in shape when muscles are tense or relaxed. By a reliable system of drafting from direct measurement, such as one of those in use in the Ecoles Professionelles of Paris, a shaped bodice can be produced fitting the arms and figure easily and gracefully, and from this pattern can be deduced further patterns of other garments, whether tight, loose, or semi-fitting, which hang from the shoulder or the waist. When the theory of drafting has been learned, and the shapes and proportions of a pattern and its derivatives are understood, "moulage" or modelling on the figure in muslin, should be attempted; though, be it remembered, "moulage" should not be regarded as a substitute for drafting, but as its necessary accompaniment, for it affords opportunity for eye training, and for learning how and where at certain points the material should be stretched or held easily on the figure. The pupil is thus prepared to handle the pattern intelligently when cut out in material. I have seen it objected that only awkward and wooden lines can be obtained from drafting on paper because of its rigidity, and because the pattern is built up upon a framework of straight lines at right angles to each other. The objector cannot have understood that the rectangular construction lines have no connection with the outlines of the pattern, except as affording _points d'appui_, which are found by direct measurement. These construction lines stand for the warp and woof, or "thread" of the material to be used for the garment. Stress must be also laid on the fact that the grace or angularity of the pattern outline actually depend upon the eye training and perception of curves derived from drawing lessons, which must, for this as well as other reasons, form a part of the scheme of instruction. CONCLUSION Limits of time and space have only allowed me to touch the fringe of a fascinating and useful subject; but the frequent conferences of teachers now being held in different centres, and the new suggestions of the Board of Education are stimulating so much interest and discussion that I feel that the educational teaching of needlework in its broad sense in England has a cheerful future. There is already much excellent teaching and work done in some of the trade schools in London as well as in a few of its elementary schools, and others elsewhere, which leaves little to be desired from many points of view. Apart from the modern educational treatment of needlecraft and dressmaking, though arising directly from it, are the unquestioned advantages which may result to any woman of whatever rank or social position who is willing to devote, in the first instance, a little time and intelligence to mastering a few elementary principles introductory to their practical application, either by herself or by any one in her employment, to the cutting and making of her own garments from direct measurement, modified by measurements of individual carriage or conformation. When these modifications are clearly understood, the proving of the flat pattern on the table after drafting should produce a well-shaped and correct lining, without the misery of standing for hours in the ordinary way to be "fitted on." If finer touches are needed, they are of the nature of "moulage," or modelling; the different parts of the pattern retain their balance and relative proportions, and the length of the operation is much shortened. The majority of women, especially when past youth, are not so happy as to possess the theoretically perfectly balanced and well-proportioned figure which has been so successfully adopted by the best business houses as the basis for cutting high-class ready-made garments. Happy indeed is the woman who can "walk straight into them" without the offered "slight alteration" which so often spoils the cut and brings bitter disappointment to the wearer. There are few women who have not groaned under the waste of time and fatigue entailed by being "fitted on" under the hands of the "little dressmaker," or for that matter under hands of much greater pretension, with no idea of principles in cutting, who pinch and drag and smooth down by rule-of-thumb, producing garments without balance or ease, whose faults may be disguised by trimming or drapery, but whose discomfort is always present to the wearer. Women have in fact so long submitted to this tyranny of rule-of-thumb in dress-cutting, as inseparate from it, that, as is their nature, they continue to endure what they think cannot be cured. Nevertheless, the discomforts and uncertainties of this rule-of-thumb misery may be entirely eliminated, and it is for the modern woman to demand and insist upon its elimination. Let me especially recommend to ladies possessing the invaluable qualities in this connection of taste and style in dress, who may be thinking of taking up dressmaking as a profession, that as an important preliminary step they should master the principles of a good method of cutting. Let them make sure that the method can lay claim to this description; that it is reliable and not altogether empirical. Thus they will render themselves to some extent independent of the possible vagaries and misfits of their cutters and workers. The excellent courses of instruction now carried on in the trade schools already referred to should ere long create a supply of well-trained young women who will do their best work under an instructed head, and will be able to carry out intelligently her ideas and directions. Under such conditions there should be no room for failure in a business of this kind. As a result, the arts of needlecraft and of dressmaking will be raised to the plane of scientific certainty and success which is their due, instead of remaining at the often low level of the unorganised, empirical and inartistic occupations--a frequent source of financial disaster to their exponents and of perennial vexation to the helpless victims of their products. II. HOUSECRAFT The position of modern woman towards matters domestic is somewhat undefined, and at best can hardly be considered satisfactory. Her attitude towards housekeeping is not one of enthusiasm. The Lancashire mill-girl is proud to have a house of her own, but prefers her life at the mill to one spent in ordering that house; the elementary school teacher considers housekeeping of so little economic interest that she is injured if she may not devote her married life to a profession demanding the best of her energy; the university graduate pretends to a mind superior to physical comfort and welfare unless it can be produced by a creature less specialised than herself. In the field of paid occupations for women, educated and uneducated, domestic work stands low; not necessarily low in scale of payment, but uninviting as a sphere of work and lacking the dignity of skilled employment. That good housewives may be found in every grade of society is evident, but the general trend of our social evolution demands that some organised effort shall be made to simplify actual work and to raise the appreciation of that work. In history and philosophy, the moral advantages of a good home have been acknowledged and extolled. The physical advantages are only now being fully emphasised, and there is an ever-increasing demand that women shall diligently apply their best efforts, first to the problems of the individual household, and then beyond it to those forms of housekeeping that fall to municipal and national control. We need a different estimate, a better realisation, of the enormous responsibility that lies in feeding, housing, and general hygienic conditions, and such a realisation must work from the top downwards in our social and intellectual strata. In the care of the sick we have seen a complete revolution. Even so recently as the days of our grandparents "Sarah Gamp" was the general refuge--now her name is a byword. The work of nursing and the care of an invalid's room, be it home or hospital, has been raised from mere manual labour. Intellect has established formulæ and dogma on which workers can be trained, and the work itself has been proved not alone a suitable means by which a woman can earn her living, but also a profession demanding a dignified respect and admiration. The researches of medical laboratories--the accumulated experience of the great physicians and surgeons of the world--are constantly placing valuable knowledge in the hands of nurses and those who train them. Elaboration and fuss have gone in favour of a simplicity of service based on scientific facts; the influence of the trained worker has to some extent permeated the untrained service of home nursing. Great may still be our ignorance and great the need for a more adequate service, especially in the homes of the poor, but taken as a whole the care of the sick has been raised to what we may, without ambiguity, call a scientific art. Nursing may be popular from a love of such work and from its financial return, but the real strength of the nursing world lies in its organised provision of skilled women sent out to their work with a knowledge of its detail and a training in routine, paid for by service during years of apprenticeship. The changes that have been effected in regard to the care of the sick may not form a perfect analogy of what can be done in other forms of domestic work, but they at least constitute a lesson in cause and effect, with many suggestions for the would-be reformer. Improvement in nursing owes its first impetus to a realisation of the part a nurse must of necessity play in curing or alleviating suffering, and any real improvements in our general domestic work and conditions will only be seriously considered when they are properly appreciated in their relation to the health and efficiency of the nation. To bring this home to individuals and classes must be the work of education. Let us magnify the office of the housewife unduly rather than leave it unrecognised. We must demand something more than mere manipulative skill from the manual worker--a knowledge and interest from those who direct her work; a place in laboratories and schools for the many problems worthy of elucidation. To make lessons in housecraft a part of the curriculum of elementary and secondary schools has its own good; to make lessons in sick-nursing also a part might be good; but to leave both there would be only to patch, not mend, a rent in our social conditions. The matter must find its way into universities and research schools for its physical and economic investigation--as in other kinds of work we need an aristocracy of brains to guide the democracy of hands to found an apprenticeship system that shall provide efficient workers to bring the mighty forces of chemical, physical, and biological science to bear directly on such matters as selection of foods, methods of cooking, better apparatus for cleaning purposes, and an evolution of house-planning and furnishing that shall reduce the present elaboration of service and cleaning. It is not possible that every woman who cooks a potato shall be intimately acquainted with the structure of starch-cells or the effect of heat on those cells, nor is it likely that we shall aim at a system that makes the cooking of our food as exact as a laboratory experiment, but that thermometer, microscope, and test-tube have their own part to play is evident. The use of a disinfectant by a nurse is a scientific operation, the scope of which has only been made possible by many and careful investigations in which the specialised effort of the few has resulted in a definite formula and a handy preparation only to be used with intelligent appreciation of its purpose. She understands its use and abuse, how to adapt it to circumstances, and probably how to find a substitute for it if occasion requires. It is much on these lines that many of the problems of kitchen and household interest must be attacked. We need a simple and reliable classification of foods that shall be useful to the practical cook. A quantitative analysis of proteid or carbo-hydrate qualities of wheat, lentils, or milk may form excellent exercise for laboratory classes, but even there it is too often taught without any relation to the assimilative properties of the average digestion and their consequent effect on food values. For ordinary use we want all this brought to a general outlook of the value, and comparative value, of such ordinary food as bread, oatmeal, eggs, and beef; not only as to suitable proportions in our diet and to methods of cooking, but also as a help in providing suitable substitutes for a particular commodity in time of scarcity. Beyond the inevitable victims of the Irish potato famine, many suffered quite unnecessarily for want of ability to replace the familiar potato by a possible substitute; and to-day we are little more intelligent in our catering. Quantity and quality of the potato crop must each year to some extent make itself felt on small purses, and while not dependent on this one article of diet we might often help a meagre table by a good substitute such as rice, hominy, dumplings, and an increased supply of fresh vegetables. Substitutes for butcher's meat too often suggest the purely vegetarian dish that to most people is but a _pis aller_. To replace part or even most of the meat in a dish with a food of approximate dietetic value would generally be more acceptable. A dish of haricot beans cooked with a little minced beef is, for example, a very different dish from the vegetarian treatment of the same article. Pea-soup made with the addition of a ham or beef bone will generally win approval over its less "tasty" rival. The value of eggs and the many ways of using cheese--the possibilities of oatmeal beyond mere porridge--are all matters worth understanding; so also is the problem of our milk supply. The fact that legislation is active in securing the hygienic conditions of the wholesale milk supply cannot excuse individual indifference to either its actual value or suitable treatment. The inferiority of skim or separated milk to "whole milk" has been so emphasised that in many places a useful article is lying as a drug in the market. That skim milk is as useful as many "stocks" and much better than water for making porridge, maigre soups, sauces, for mixing bread and scones, has yet to be appreciated, and will only be so when the true economic use of food is removed from its present haphazard position among the instinctive arts! The constructive consistency of meat, fish, and vegetables must be clearly set out if we are to understand the effect upon them of heat. The primary methods of cooking and the standard proportions of ingredients may already be used with an intelligence that at least puts aside the recipe book; but the research that can produce a satisfactory system of catering and cooking has yet to invade the higher education of men and women. A suggestion of the scientific treatment of domestic matters too often presumes an elaboration of work rather than a reduction of it, and yet we all realise the labour-saving and economic return that has been the result of science applied to commercial industries. There must be a definite aim to simplify housekeeping and domestic work; the conditions of life have gone that made a women find scope for _all_ her energy in administering the affairs of her house or in employing others to that end. To the uninitiated the various culinary processes seem endless, and to arrive at a proper accomplishment of these is generally considered a matter of continuous practice. A better understanding of the matter readily shows that while many processes can only be perfected by repetition, there are even more that fall under science rather than art. Take, for example, the principles underlying the cooking of meat by stewing. This is surely a process where manipulation is _nil_. To make pastry or bread we must have a certain practice in the manipulation to give the deftness (on which final success depends) in addition to any understanding of the principles involved; but with regard to stewing and many similar processes it should be possible to have one lesson made so explicit that the actual process was known for all time--the Irish stew of an artisan's home or the dainty entrée of the "Ritz" being only an adaptation of given principles to different foods. In order to reduce primary methods to such business-like proportions, it is necessary to consider them in their effect on different foods, having due regard to texture and to the effect of a moist or a dry heat. It would be a matter of interest to know how the established methods of cooking meat and fish all really conduce to one end, viz. to soften the fibres by steam formed from their own juices. The rules for most methods of cooking these foods lead to this assumption, though nominally based only on a means of retaining these juices in order to save a valuable part of the food. The actual part played by the liquid in which foods are cooked is possibly very small, but not to be ignored; the presence of salt in the water in which beef or potatoes is cooked makes an appreciable difference in the flavour and probably in the food value. The relation of the fat used in frying to the food fried in it is too often quite misunderstood, and a dyspeptic patient consequently is ordered "no fried food." To "fry in butter" sounds well, but it is practically impossible; to _sauté_ in butter at a temperature allowing some of the butter to enter the food, is quite a valuable method of cooking; but to raise the temperature to a point at which frying can be done is to char the butter. To fry properly, the food should be immersed in fat so hot that the outside of meat is immediately "set." Then allow the heating of the juices inside the meat to perform the necessary cooking. The immersion of the cold food soon lowers the temperature of the fat and makes continued immersion possible. The best kind of fat for this purpose and the relative temperature at which different fats may be used needs more investigation. At present for ordinary kitchen use we have no more reliable test of temperature than to venture a bit of bread and judge by result. One thing we may accept--frying is not a greasy or rich method of cooking. The fat used is merely a means of excluding atmosphere and cooking food at a high temperature; it bears no more relation to the food itself than does the atmosphere of the oven in baking. This question of temperatures and their relation to the kind of food, as also to the various cookery processes, needs careful handling; we want not alone a definite dogma established on a scientific basis, but we want the means to apply it brought within easy reach--reach of a limited purse and a limited intellectual capacity, for we are not all scholars. There is no reason why a thermometer should not become part of our kitchen equipment just as readily as that old sand-glass which regulated the boiling of an egg, but, before it is the case, many other matters must fall into line. It is probable that a careful investigation of the best means of frying, boiling, stewing, &c. would effect a considerable revolution in our household pots and pans. Is it impossible to produce a pan in which a given quantity of fat or oil should be easily brought to, say, 400° Fahr., and yet be unable to exceed that temperature? It would so safeguard expense from burning that the most delightful frying medium, olive oil, would be readily used by many people. The matter of watching, and waiting, and judging the exact minute for certain operations takes far more time than is generally supposed, and the gloom surrounding the average kitchen range increases the difficulty. The cook who understands the use of double pans for oven and range has done something to save both time and anxiety, but it is evident that much more might be done to render many cookery processes almost automatic. The science that controls the production of such commercial products as biscuits, tinned foods, pickles, and jam, and turns them out to a uniform standard, is at present remote from the household kitchen. Such scientific knowledge has been produced at a commercial value for commercial enterprise. We need _our_ problems brought into universities and colleges; into the channels where research is made public; into the laboratories of schools, where, if no wonderful result may be proclaimed, we have at least established a scientific method of approaching the work of kitchen, laundry, and storeroom. The ordinary teaching of the domestic subjects too often tends to magnify the difficulties in order to show how they may be overcome. The simplification of methods by classification would do much, and the evolution of possible devices for saving labour would do still more, to establish a favourable view of housekeeping. What is worth doing is worth doing well; but it is "doing" unnecessarily that spells drudgery. Our attitude in considering household problems turns almost involuntarily to cooking, but the need for an intellectual grasp of matters domestic is equally potent in methods of cleaning. If the word "hygiene," which we use so glibly, were really understood and appreciated, the modern house-builder and furnisher would quickly be sent to swell the ranks of the unemployed, and we should demand construction and fittings which would minimise the problems of dust and tarnish, provide suitable storage for food, and allow cleaning to be simple, straightforward, and efficient. The advent of the vacuum cleaner is less valuable in itself than in the establishment of a new principle for dealing with dust, and one that may eventually revolutionise our house-cleaning. We need a simple appliance of equal scientific value to reduce some at least of the labour entailed in "washing-up." Pots and pans, plates and dishes may be economised in number by a careful worker, but cleaned they must be, and the average "sink" of scullery or pantry is little removed from the pristine incompleteness of its first appearance. There is, in the cloisters of Gloucester Cathedral, a sink, evidently used by the monks of the sixteenth century, which is identical with those found in sculleries of to-day, and yet chemistry and physics have revolutionised our industries and produced all sorts of scientific methods for cleaning, lighting, and heating on a large scale. Perhaps when the same woman who takes a D.Sc. bestows some of her energy on the washing of dishes we shall get to something less primitive than washing each individual greasy plate with a mop or cloth. The only scientific treatment of "washing-up" used at present seems open to criticism, and is only suited to large establishments, but it should be possible to construct every sink with some sort of douche and general fittings suited to this work. The question of the position of modern woman towards laundry-work seems to have resolved itself into one of income. If she can pay for the services of a steam laundry she does so. In the United Kingdom it is estimated that there are 30,000 public laundries, but we have yet to find one that can produce a list of charges within reasonable limits of a small income. In the homes that are run on incomes of £100 to £400 a-year, and where the laundry-work is done at the public laundry, the amount of "washing" must be small, or some other side of the expenditure must be seriously curtailed. Laundrying performed intelligently and under suitable conditions is neither difficult nor unpleasant. To stand over a wash-tub rubbing each article by hand; to strain every muscle emptying that tub; to dry garments on a rail across a kitchen and iron them near a blazing fire is _not_ intelligent, and can only be followed by women driven by custom to wash clothes at all. Perhaps in no section of household work are scientific methods within reach as in the laundry; the existence of the public laundry and the rivalry of different firms has produced an open market for appliances of all kinds, and the exhibition of laundry utensils, machines, &c., has become an annual event. Though many of the inventions are destined for the "power" and general scope of the public laundry, there are always a number of home appliances to be seen; many more would be adapted if there were more demand. Any real scope for these must rest in the first place with architect and house-builder. In the North of England it is usual to build a small "wash-house" to nearly every house, but the general construction of these wash-houses is such as to discourage any desire to use them. Only cold water is provided; the boiler is arranged as a detached unit; the possibility of a drying cupboard in connection with kitchen stove or hot-water cylinder is never considered, and the economical heating of irons is generally overlooked. The use of irons heated by gas, charcoal, and methylated spirit would be more general if these were more efficiently constructed and less expensive. The provision of electricity at a cost within the reach of ordinary folk will simplify many things in laundry-work as in cooking and cleaning. Instruction is, to some extent, already available as to soaps, detergent solutions and bleaching agents. We need more appreciation of the part that may be played by the process of "steeping" and the minimum of handling with which clothes may be efficiently washed and finished. The profit and loss in the matter cannot be estimated only in labour, time, soap, and firing; the wear and tear of fabric in public laundries compared with home handling and the risk of infection involved must both be taken into account. If we make laundrying easy we do much to make a frequent change of garment possible to a section of the community inclined to economise in this direction, and we should probably make fashionable those household materials that may be consigned to a wash-tub, instead of paying a reluctant visit to the dry-cleaner--chintz, cretonne, and Bolton sheeting instead of serge, tapestry, and plush. We owe one debt of gratitude to the public laundry--it has raised a section of household work to the level of a skilled industry, though as yet there seems no system of apprenticeship that turns out the "complete" laundress. For the limits of a short paper these matters have perhaps been treated somewhat discursively, but the object has been attained if, by the few illustrations selected, some attention has been drawn to the field of inquiry which lies open, and the urgent need for a definite application of scientific minds to problems which, amid all the advances of this progressive age, seem to lag behind. The inclusion of housecraft as part of the curriculum of elementary and secondary schools may do much to rouse interest and overcome some difficulties of cooking, &c., but to any one familiar with these classes it is evident that their scope is very limited, if only for the reason that the teaching so often treats the work of housekeeping as an imitative art, based, for want of reliable scientific data, on rules and recipes that are practically organised tradition no more. In secondary schools, the introduction of laboratory work has opened up fresh possibilities of a more reasonable treatment of housecraft, for it is certain that, when teachers are properly equipped for their work, biology, physics, and chemistry (organic and inorganic) can be successfully taught along lines that bring within the scope of school science such matters as food and feeding, cooking and washing, fuels, heating, ventilation, and hygiene. To teach chemistry and physics in the usual academic manner and then tack on a course of cookery and laundry-work at the end of school life cannot possibly be of the same value as the co-ordinated courses; we want scientific method even more than "science" for these schools girls, who shall so soon be the housekeepers and home-makers. We may say with Stevenson, "A dogma learned is only a new error--the old was perhaps as good; but a spirit communicated is a perpetual possession." For those girls who pass on to a university or technical school we want an intelligence alert to all that may lie in further investigation of those problems suggested at school. A certain jealousy may be pardoned that the possible evolution of housekeeping may be the work of women; the leaders of the "woman's movement" have so often spoiled their work by following the lines of men's activities and aiming at a goal essentially masculine. The things that go to housekeeping seem so intimately connected with motherhood and mothering that it must be hoped our most able women will bring their intelligence, their education, and their sense of national responsibility to the task of housekeeping--to the simplification of its problems, the reduction of the labour involved, and the organisation of the paid service. There is certainly scope for master-minds. We touched on the organisation of the nursing service. If it is possible to duly care for the sick and at the same time train an efficient nurse, it is surely possible to provide proper service in the huge caravanseries of our modern life, and at the same time provide a suitable apprenticeship for the domestic worker. Good instruction at school, followed by one or two years of definite training in a hostel or boarding-house, should produce a class of skilled women workers who can be organised and employed on the same lines as those of the nursing service. In many branches of labour the women are ousting the men; unless we can make good the present breach in our home bulwark and train our army of defence, we may find men ousting women in their own particular sphere. America and Canada, realising that their coveted nationality must be founded on homes, have brought into their universities the "science of home affairs." England, in spite of the warning note sounded by inquiries into physical deterioration, infant mortality, and kindred evils, has been content with a _tradition_ of good homes, and has so far done little more than provide a smattering of cookery lessons for elementary school girls. There is, however, a promise of better things. One university college has made a venture into home science, and other universities would soon be at work if the necessary money could be secured. Oh, for some silver-tongued evangelist to cry in the ears of our philanthropic millionaires all that might be done for this country by bringing its _best_ brains to consider the material things that go to the making of a good home! THE END Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. Edinburgh & London 
46836	----	TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: --Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected. --Bold text has been rendered with equal signs: =bold text=. --Because of the fairy amount of tables, it is recommended the use of a monospaced font. MECHANICAL DEVICES IN THE HOME by EDITH ALLEN, M. A. _Assistant Editor, U. S. Department of Agriculture Formerly Specialist in Home Economics in Kansas State Agricultural College, University of Texas, and Oklahoma Agricultural and Mechanical College_ [Illustration: LOGO] THE MANUAL ARTS PRESS PEORIA, ILLINOIS Copyright 1922 Edith Allen 12C22 _Printed in the United States of America_ PREFACE In writing this book, my aim has been (1) to give information which will guide householders in selecting and installing the best cooking and heating devices, and in using them with the greatest economy of fuel and safety against accidents; (2) to explain the construction of lighting fixtures and how to determine the amount of light for health needed in various places; (3) to explain the principles of cooling; (4) to show how to make small repairs which save plumbers' bills; (5) to guide in the choice and care of laundry appliances and cooking utensils; (6) to familiarize women with the construction of electric, acetylene and gas plants and engines, and (7) to furnish tables of measure often needed for reference. There is a lack of material of this type which is non-technical enough for the use of home economics students and housewives. The material which I have organized applies directly to the appliances with which women work and is of a nature to fill their need in this field. The book is designed as a text for senior-high school and junior-college classes, as well as for the needs of home-demonstration agents, housewives and other women. EDITH ALLEN ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The author is particularly indebted in the preparation of this book to John G. Thompson, professor of economics, University of Illinois; J. K. T. Ekblaw, instructor of farm mechanics, University of Illinois, and editor of _Farm Power_; Andrey A. Potter, professor of steam and gas engineering, Kansas State Agricultural College; J. M. Bryant, professor of electrical engineering, University of Texas; Harrison E. Howe, National Council of Research; Miss Minna C. Denton, home economics specialist, United States Department of Agriculture; Miss Marie Dallas, Washington, D. C.; F. F. Good, instructor in applied physics, Teachers' College, Columbia University, New York. The following is a list of companies furnishing illustrations, data and other information: American Blower Company. American Ironing Machine Co. American Lava Co. American Radiator Co. American Stove Co. Automatic Electric Washer Co. Baltimore Gas Appliance Co. Bates & Edmonds Motor Co. Bissel's Carpet Sweeper Co. Blake Mfg. Co. C. Brown Mfg. Co. B. Bryan Co. Central Construction & Supply Co. Central Oil & Gas Stove Co. Chambers Fireless Cooker Stove Co. Geo. M. Clark & Co. Cleveland Metal Products Co. Coleman Lamp Co. Consolidated Gas, Electric Light and Power Co. Cyphers Incubator Co. Dangler Stove Co. Davis Acetylene Co. The DeLaval Separator Co. Delco Motor Co. The Deming Co. Detroit Heating & Lighting Co. Detroit Stove Works. Detroit Vapor Stove Co. A. B. Dick Co. W. S. Dickey Clay Mfg. Co. The Durham Mfg. Co. Eagle Generator Co. Fuller, Warren & Co. General Electric Co. Hammond Typewriter Co. Hart & Crouse Co. Herrick Refrigerator Co. Huenfield Co. Humphrey Co. Hurley Machine Co. Kalamazoo Stove Co. Kewanee Water Supply Co. Klau-Van Pietersom-Dunlap. Landers, Frary, Clark & Co. Laundryette Mfg. Co. Manning, Bowman & Co. Mantle Lamp Co. of America. H. G. McFadden & Co. The Monitor Stove Co. National Electric Supply Co. Northwestern Steel & Iron Works. Pacific Flush Tank Co. Potomac Power & Lighting Co. Rathbone, Sard & Co. Reliable Stove Co. Remnert Mfg. Co. Rhinelander Refrigerator Co. Ringen Stove Co. Rochester Rotary Washer Co. Rochester Stamping Co. Sears, Roebuck & Co. Sharples Separator Co. Singer Sewing Machine Co. L. C. Smith & Bros. Typewriting Company. Standard Oil Co. Edward L. Stock. Thatcher Furnace Co. The Torrington Co. Toledo Cooker Co. Trenton Potteries Co. United Electric Co. United Pump & Power Co. United States Dept. of Agriculture. United States Radiator Co. Voss Bros. Mfg. Co. Walker Bros. Co. Welsbach Co. Western Electric Co. White Frost Refrigerator Co. White Mop and Wringer Co. Wilcox & Gibbs Sewing Machine Co. The Yale & Towne Mfg. Co. TABLE OF CONTENTS PART I. COOKING STOVES CHAPTER I. WOOD AND COAL STOVES 15 1. Air supply of fire. 2. The grate. 3. Drafts or dampers. 4. Starting the fire. 5. Keeping a fire. 6. Heating the oven. 7. Ashes. 8. Ash chutes. CHAPTER II. GAS STOVES 23 9. Burners. 10. Simmerers. 11. Air mixer. 12. Regulating the gas. 13. Lighting the stove. 14. Cleaning the stove. 15. Accidents with gas stove. 16. Pilot light. 17. Pilot for top burners. 18. Gas-stove lighter. 19. Amount of gas used. 20. Cold-process gasoline gas stoves. 21. Acetylene stoves. CHAPTER III. OIL STOVES 31 22. Purpose of oil stoves. 23. Mechanical parts of kerosene stove. 24. The burner. 25. The chimney. 26. Lighting the stove. 27. Management of the flame. 28. Adjustment and care of the stove. 29. When the stoves gives trouble. 30. Construction of gasoline stoves. 31. To light the stove. 32. Filling the gasoline stove. 33. When a burner blazes and cannot be controlled. 34. Changing fuel in vapor stoves. 35. Operation of vapor stoves. CHAPTER IV. ELECTRIC STOVES 42 36. Heating unit of electric stove. 37. Wiring of stoves. 38. Operation of electric stoves. 39. Care of electric stoves. 40. Utensils for electric stoves. 41. Detachable cooking devices. CHAPTER V. ALCOHOL, ACETYLENE, AND CANNED HEAT 47 42. Alcohol stoves. 43. Vapor stoves. 44. Wickless stoves. 45. Canned heat. 46. Acetylene gas stoves. CHAPTER VI. FIRELESS AND STEAM COOKERS 50 47. The fireless cooker. 48. The stones of fireless cookers. 49. Heating the stones. 50. Care of the cooker. 51. Other devices belonging to cookers. 52. Directions for using the cooker. 53. Time of cooking food. 54. Gas cookers. 55. Steam cookers. PART II. HEATING DEVICES CHAPTER VII. WARM-AIR FURNACES 57 56. Principle upon which a furnace works. 57. The stove part. 58. The cold-air shaft. 59. Hot-air pipes. 60. Location of the furnace. 61. Air. 62. Pipeless furnaces. CHAPTER VIII. HOT-WATER SYSTEM OF HEATING 64 63. Equipment for hot-water heat. 64. Heating unit. 65. The management of the fire. 66. The pipes. 67. Expansion tank. 68. Water. 69. Radiators. CHAPTER IX. STEAM-HEATING SYSTEMS 69 70. Equipment for steam heat. 71. Steam gages. 72. Safety valve. CHAPTER X. FIREPLACES AND HEATING STOVES 74 73. Construction of fireplace. 74. Management of fireplace. 75. Operating heating stoves. 76. Care of the stove. CHAPTER XI. GAS, ELECTRIC AND KEROSENE HEATERS 77 77. Kinds of gas heaters. 78. Bunsen burner and asbestos-back heater. 79. Lighting gas stoves. 80. Care of gas stoves. 81. Illuminating flame and bright metal reflector heaters. 82. Gas radiator heaters. 83. Management of gas radiator. 84. Kerosene heaters. 85. Electric heaters. 86. Acetylene heaters. PART III. LIGHTING DEVICES CHAPTER XII. ELECTRIC LIGHTS 82 87. Kinds of electric lamps in use. 88. Electrical measurements. 89. Carbon lamps. 90. Mazda or tungsten lamps. 91. Selecting lamps for a room. 92. Effect of color schemes upon illumination. 93. Distribution of light. CHAPTER XIII. GAS LIGHT 88 94. Construction of mantles. 95. Care of mantles. 96. Fixtures for burning gas. 97. Adjustment. 98. Care of lamps. 99. Lighting a gas light. 100. Cold-process gasoline gas. 101. Acetylene lamps. 102. Care of burners of acetylene lamps. CHAPTER XIV. KEROSENE LAMPS 93 103. Construction of kerosene lamps. 104. Management of kerosene lamps. 105. Lighting a kerosene lamp. 106. To extinguish a lamp. 107. Care of lamps. 108. Kerosene mantle lamps. CHAPTER XV. ALCOHOL AND GASOLINE LAMPS 96 109. Classification of lamps. 110. Gravity lamps. 111. Lighting the gravity lamp. 112. Pressure lamps. 113. Gasoline lamps with wicks. 114. Alcohol lamps with wicks. 115. Lighting alcohol or gasoline lamps. PART IV. COOLING DEVICES CHAPTER XVI. REFRIGERATORS 100 116. Principles of refrigeration. 117. The construction of refrigerators. 118. Lining refrigerators. 119. Insulation of refrigerators. 120. Circulation in refrigerators. 121. Drip from melting ice. 122. Arrangement of food in the ice box. 123. Filling and care of the ice box. CHAPTER XVII. ICELESS REFRIGERATORS; WATER COOLERS 105 124. Comparative efficiency of iceless refrigerators. 125. Iceless refrigerator. 126. Small cooler. 127. Covered pail. 128. Unglazed earthenware. 129. Cooling with running water. 130. Refrigerating plants. 131. Water coolers. 132. Care of water coolers. CHAPTER XVIII. FANS AND VENTILATORS 110 133. Selecting a fan. 134. The construction of the fan in common use. 135. Ventilator. PART V. WATER SUPPLY AND SEWAGE DISPOSAL CHAPTER XIX. PUMPS AND WATER FILTERS 112 136. Suction pumps. 137. Care of pumps. 138. Force pumps. 139. Compressed-air pumps. 140. Water filters. CHAPTER XX. PRESSURE TANKS; PLUMBING FIXTURES 117 141. Pressure tanks. 142. Construction of the pressure tank. 143. Care of pressure tanks. 144. Hot-water kitchen tank. 145. Instantaneous water heaters. 146. Heaters for tanks. 147. The elevated water tank. 148. Faucets. 149. Valves. 150. Overflows. 151. Traps for bath tubs and basins. CHAPTER XXI. CESSPOOLS, SEPTIC TANKS AND CITY SEWER SYSTEMS 124 152. Releative value of cesspool and septic tank. 153. Construction of the septic tank. 154. The size of tank. 155. Disposal of waste in cities. CHAPTER XXII. WATER CLOSETS 128 156. Construction of water closets. 157. Siphoning the trap. 158. The flushing tank. 159. Repairing the flushing tank. PART VI. LAUNDRY EQUIPMENT CHAPTER XXIII. WASHING MACHINES 132 160. Kinds of washing machines. 161. Suction machines. 162. Cylinder washers. 163. Rotary washers. 164. Machine with an oscillating washing device. 165. Oscillating washers. 166. Locomotive washer. 167. Centrifugal washer. 168. Care of washers. CHAPTER XXIV. WRINGERS 138 169. Roller wringer. 170. Care of wringers. 171. Centrifugal wringer or drier. 172. Care of the machine. 173. Combination washer and wringer. CHAPTER XXV. MANGLES AND IRONS 141 174. Construction of mangles. 175. Cold mangles. 176. Heated mangles. 177. Care and use of mangles. 178. Flat, or sadirons. 179. Charcoal irons. 180. Electric irons. 181. Gas irons. 182. Acetylene irons. 183. Alcohol irons. 184. Gasoline irons. PART VII. HOUSE-CLEANING EQUIPMENT CHAPTER XXVI. VACUUM CLEANERS AND CLEANING TOOLS 147 185. Principle upon which vacuum cleaners work. 186. Different kinds of vacuum cleaners. 187. Nozzle of vacuum cleaner. 188. Cautions in using vacuum cleaners. 189. Difference between hand and power cleaners. 190. Carpet sweeper. 191. Mop wringers. PART VIII. DEVICES FOR PREPARATION AND CONSERVATION OF FOOD CHAPTER XXVII. POTS, PANS AND OTHER DEVICES 155 192. Materials from which Utensils are made. 193. Aluminum alloy. 194. Cast-iron utensils. 195. Earthenware. 196. Aluminum and graniteware. 197. Mixing spoons. CHAPTER XXVIII. PARERS, SEEDERS, GRINDERS, SLICERS, ETC. 159 198. Fruit and vegetable parers and knives. 199. Parers which grate off skins. 200. Seeders and Stoners. 201. Cherry stoner. 202. Grinders. 203. Choppers or meat grinders. 204. Choppers. 205. Slicers. 206. Lard and fruit presses, sausage stuffers. CHAPTER XXIX. MIXERS, BEATERS AND CHURNS; COFFEE POTS 165 207. Use of mixers, beaters and churns. 208. Care of these devices. 209. Freezers. 210. Care of freezers. 211. Churns. 212. Drip coffee pots. 213. Percolator coffee pots. CHAPTER XXX. DISH-WASHERS, CANNERS AND DRYERS 170 214. Dish dryer. 215. Cleaning silver. 216. Canners. 217. Water seal. 218. Pressure canners. 219. Use of the canner. 220. Dryers. 221. Care of dryers. CHAPTER XXXI. SEPARATORS AND EMULSIFIERS 178 222. Cream separators. 223. Different types of separators. 224. Washing the machine. 225. Oiling. 226. Whey separator. 227. Emulsifier. PART IX. SUNDRY DEVICES CHAPTER XXXII. DUMBWAITERS AND OTHER HOUSE FURNISHINGS 183 228. Dumbwaiters and window adjustments. 229. Check valves. 230. Door fastener. 231. Window shades. 232. Hinges. 233. Sliding doors. CHAPTER XXXIII. SEWING MACHINES 186 234. Different types of sewing machines. 235. Lock-stitch sewing machine. 236. Feed plate. 237. Bobbins. 238. Shuttle bobbins. 239. Chain-stitch machine. 240. Cautions for all machines. 241. General instructions. CHAPTER XXXIV. AUTOMOBILES 192 242. Starting the motor. 243. Driving the automobile. 244. Care of car. CHAPTER XXXV. LAWN MOWERS; INCUBATORS 195 245. Operation and care of lawn mowers. 246. Storing mowers. 247. Scissors and shears. 248. Principles upon which incubator works. 249. The body of the incubator. 250. Incubators heated by a lamp. 251. The wick. 252. Thermostat. 253. The thermometer. 254. Operation of incubator. 255. Egg tester. CHAPTER XXXVI. TYPEWRITERS 202 256. Construction of typewriter. 257. Special features of typewriter. 258. Interchangeable-type typewriters. 259. Care of typewriters. 260. The hectograph. 261. Mimeograph and multigraph. PART X. MOTORS, FUELS AND GAS PLANTS CHAPTER XXXVII. TREADLES AND WATER MOTORS 209 262. Definition of motor. 263. The treadle. 264. Water motors. 265. Selecting a water motor. 266. Two types of water motors. CHAPTER XXXVIII. ENGINES; MOTORS AND BATTERIES; FUELS 212 267. Gasoline engines. 268. Figuring speed of pulleys. 269. Operating the engine. 270. Points in caring for engine. 271. Generating electricity for homes. 272. Batteries. 273. Liquid batteries. 274. A dry-cell battery. 275. Storage batteries. 276. Some uses for electric motors. 277. Definition tables. CHAPTER XXXIX. GAS PLANTS 220 278. Gasoline gas plants. 279. Acetylene-gas plant. 280. Directions for operating acetylene plant. 281. Cautions to be observed in using acetylene gas. 282. Compressed gases and oils. PART XI. MEASURING DEVICES CHAPTER XL. SCALES FOR WEIGHING 225 283. Equal-arm balances. 284. Unequal-arm balances. 285. Spring scales. CHAPTER XLI. DEVICES FOR MEASURING VOLUME 227 286. Graduate and measuring cup. 287. Tablespoons. 288. Teaspoons. 289. Standard measuring spoons. 290. Liquid and cooking measures. 291. Dry measures. 292. Cubic, square and linear measures. CHAPTER XLII. GAS, WATER AND ELECTRIC METERS 230 293. Different kinds of meters. 294. Construction of a gas meter. 295. Reading the gas meter. 296. Water meters. 297. Prepayment meters. 298. The electric meter. CHAPTER XLIII. THERMOMETERS AND THERMOSTATS 233 299. Mercury thermometers. 300. Oven thermometer. 301. Maximum thermometers. 302. Thermostats. CHAPTER XLIV. HYDROMETERS AND BAROMETERS 237 303. Hydrometer. 304. Hygroscopes. 305. Barometers. PART I COOKING STOVES CHAPTER I WOOD AND COAL STOVES A brief explanation of stoves is given in this chapter to help the woman with a new stove or with an old one which she does not understand so that she may manage it without wasting fuel and nervous energy. [Illustration: FIG. 1. Cross-section of cooking stove.] Cooking stoves (Fig. 1) were invented as a convenient means for holding pots and pans in close proximity to the fire. They include a device for regulating the supply of air to the burning fuel. =1. Air Supply for Fire.= A proper amount of air must be supplied to the fuel to produce a hot fire. A smoky or yellow flame indicates a lack of sufficient air to produce complete combustion of the fuel. Smoke is unburnt fuel. A smoky fire does not produce as much heat as one which burns with a blue or almost colorless flame. It is usually not the fault of the fuel, but the way it is being used that causes a smoky fire. =2. The Grate.= Cooking stoves may be constructed for burning either wood or coal. In both cases, the operation is similar, except that more air should be passing thru the stove while wood is being burnt. For burning coal, the grate should be less open in order to prevent the coal from falling thru. Some modern stoves are made with double grates. These may be turned so that the more open part of them is used for supporting the wood, and the less open part for coal. [Illustration: FIG. 1-_a_. Grate.] These grates are usually reversed by a stove shaker. (Fig. 1-_a_ shows a detailed drawing of a grate.) The housekeeper must understand how this is done in order to avoid reversing them when she shakes down the ashes. Two difficulties arise in reversing the grate when the stove is filled with fuel. The coal may be wasted by falling thru the part intended for wood, or pieces of fuel may fall between the parts so that they cannot be moved. When this happens, it is best to let the fire go out, take out the fuel, adjust the grates as they should be and rebuild the fire. =3. Drafts or Dampers.= There are from three to six dampers on a stove (Figs. 1 and 2), as follows: 1) The draft below the fire box, found on all stoves, is to let in air to the burning fire. 2) The draft above the fire box, not found on all stoves, when slightly opened, lets in air which completes the combustion of the gases arising from the top of the fire. When opened too wide, it checks the burning of the fire. 3) The oven damper, found on all cook stoves, is placed at the point where the flame naturally enters the stove pipe. When this damper is closed, the flame must go around the oven instead of directly up the chimney. To see the oven damper, take off the lid nearest the stove pipe and watch the direction of the flame. The handle to the oven damper may be at the side of the pipe on top of the stove or at the front of the stove under the top near the reservoir. Closing this damper causes the hot gases from the fire to go back over the top of the stove down behind the oven, turn under the oven and come up the chimney. Good stoves are constructed so that the hot gases come in contact with every part of the oven. This makes a longer journey for the gases, but, if the drafts in the front of the stove and chimney are properly adjusted, the gases will make the circuit without forming soot. [Illustration: FIG. 2. Drafts and dampers in stove-pipe.] 4) A damper in the stove pipe (Fig. 2) for letting air from the room into the pipe serves to check the burning of the fire by taking the place of the draft thru the stove. 5) A damper, or shutter, found in the pipe or chimney of most stoves, when closed, checks the draft up the chimney, and, when open, lets it pass freely. 6) The reservoir damper, found on some stoves having reservoirs, lets the hot gases pass next to the reservoir when open and prevents this when closed. =4. Starting the Fire.= If the stove has a reversible grate, see that it is adjusted to suit the fuel before building the fire; then adjust the drafts. Open the draft below the fire box, the oven damper, and the shutter in the chimney; close the draft above the fire box, and the draft which lets air from the room into the pipe, so that the air may pass up thru the fire box and directly up the chimney. Some chimneys produce such strong drafts that the shutter in the chimney has to be kept closed most of the time, even when starting the fire. After the fuel has become ignited, the draft below the fire may be partly closed so that it burns less rapidly. If the fire is to be used for heating water or food on top of the stove, it is now ready for use. If it is still burning too rapidly, the draft may be entirely closed, or the shutter in the chimney partly closed. If at any time the stove smokes, the shutter or drafts above the fire may be closed too much and should be opened enough to let all the smoke pass. Adding too much fuel at one time and not spreading it in a thin layer over the entire surface of the fire may cause the stove to smoke. =5. Keeping a Fire.= If, after a fire has been used, it is wanted for use later, close the draft below the fire box, open the one above the fire box, or, if there chances to be no draft here, tilt the lids on the stove to let in the air; close the shutter in the chimney and open the draft in the pipe that lets in air from the room. With the drafts so adjusted, the fire should keep a long time, as it will burn very slowly. =6. Heating the Oven.= When baking is to be done, wait until the fire is well started; then close the oven damper. The eveness of heat in the oven depends upon the even distribution of the hot gases below and on the sides of it. This is provided for in the manufacture of the stove itself. The heat in the oven may be regulated by the intensity of the heat from the fire as well as by the damper. Whenever a cooler oven is wanted, the flame may be permitted to go directly up the chimney. Since hot air is always seeking a higher level than cold air, opening the oven door cools the oven, but it will not prevent food set on the bottom of the oven from burning on the bottom. In a closed oven, the greatest degree of heat is at the top, excepting sometimes the surface of the bottom of the oven. Many stoves require the placing of a thin grating on the bottom of the oven to prevent food from burning on the bottom. If food does not brown sufficiently on the bottom, remove the grating so that the dish comes in closer contact with the heating unit. The insulation of the oven door helps to hold heat in the oven, but the amount lost here is so small that many housekeepers prefer the convenience of the glass door, which, in turn, saves heat by doing away with the necessity of opening the oven door to watch the cooking food. Some housewives adjust the dampers for heating the oven and then never change them. They heat the kitchen in summer more than is necessary and use more fuel than they need for cooking. It has been estimated that where the careful manager of a stove uses one pound of fuel, the careless manager uses three and a half pounds. One experiment station estimated that the household coal range is used on an average of six hours a day, and, if used carefully, seven pounds of coal is consumed. Careless management, then, makes the waste of coal quite an item in the course of a year, as it is not unusual for the careless manager to use twenty-four pounds of coal per six-hour day. There is always some soot formed, even in the best-managed stoves, and the flame often carries ashes with it. These in time fill the narrow space about the oven and cut off or check the passage of the hot gases about the oven. When this happens and the oven damper is closed, the stove will smoke and not bake well. No stove should be allowed to get in this condition. The housewife can watch the accumulation of ashes in the stove and remove them before they become one-fourth inch thick. If this is not done, the oven will not heat well and some parts may be considerably cooler than others. =7. Ashes.= Ashes allowed to accumulate in the fire box will cause the lining of the stove to burn out. Ashes will also interfere with the heating of the rest of the stove. To lengthen the life of a stove, keep the ash pan empty. If a full pan of ashes becomes hot, it will keep the grate of the stove so hot that it will warp and burn out, and sometimes cause the oven to warp. If a housewife tries to build a fresh fire in a stove with a full ash pan, she will have to wait for the ashes to become heated thru before she can get satisfactory use of the oven. She will be unable to regulate the temperature of the oven if it becomes too hot. It is a great waste of fuel to heat a large pan full of ashes. [Illustration: FIG. 3. Ash chute.] =8. Ash Chutes.= In some modern houses, there are ash chutes which carry the ashes directly from the kitchen stove to a receptacle in the basement (Fig. 3). These have to be installed with care. If there is a draft of air which cannot be regulated from the basement up thru the fire box, the fire will burn too fast. There should be a damper to regulate drafts here. An ash chute saves much dirt in the kitchen. CHAPTER II GAS STOVES The gas stove is the simplest stove made. It consists of a burner or burners of different shapes mounted on a suitable frame. The best example of a gas burner is a pipe with holes punched in it, where the gas flows out and is set on fire. This pipe may be coiled into a circle and make a round burner, or the holes may all come at the end, which is arranged to spread the gas into a disc shape. =9. Burners.= Stoves are usually made with different sizes of burners. One manufacturer states that the gas stoves made by his firm consume per top burner per hour fourteen to eighteen feet of gas, and the oven burners consume eighteen to twenty feet when the gas is turned on full. Simmerers consume much less than this. =10. Simmerers.= Every gas range should have a simmerer on it. This is a small burner, usually about an inch in diameter. After a large kettle full of food has been heated to boiling, this burner may keep it simmering for hours, using very little gas. This burner will keep small kettles of food boiling. =11. Air Mixer.= Gas escaping from any pipe will burn, but it will burn with a yellow flame. To make gas burn with a blue flame--that is, to secure complete combustion--air must be mixed with it. This is done in the air mixer (Fig. 4). The blue flame is desirable for cooking because it is hotter than the yellow flame and does not blacken the cooking utensils. Gas passes thru the air mixer before entering the burner. Sometimes the air inlet is only a hole put in the under side of the pipe. The opening for entrance of air is shielded so that the gas will not escape from the mixer, but will go on into the burner. A gas pipe looks about half an inch in diameter, but the stream of gas which is allowed to flow into the burner is very small, in some cases being about the diameter of a darning needle. The opening for air is so large, that a person's finger may be put into it. Too much air interferes with the burning of the gas; in fact, there can be so much air mixed with gas that it will not burn. The air mixer regulates the amount of air which flows into the pipe. Once this is adjusted for the kind of gas to be used, it seldom needs to be changed. The air shutter has to be changed, however, if the gas pressure varies markedly from time to time. Readjustment may be required if the stove is moved and connected with a different supply of gas. When adjusting the mixer for high pressure, artificial or natural gas, close the shutter until the flame will not blow away from the cone, but will burn with a blue, almost colorless, flame. [Illustration: FIG. 4. Part of gas stove showing air mixers.] =12. Regulating the Gas.= The amount of gas which passes into the stove is also regulated, first, by adjustment of the size of the small opening thru which the gas must flow. Once this is adjusted, it does not need to be changed so long as the gas comes from the same source. Second, the flow of gas is regulated by the lever valve. As the valve is turned, the flow of gas is restricted so that it flows less swiftly. The size of the stream of gas going into the stove always looks the same regardless of its speed. When the rate is not so fast, the fire burns lower because less gas comes to it during every unit of time. =13. Lighting the Stove.= Light the top burners by first striking a match, and then turning on the burner so that there will be an unrestricted flow of gas. Count three before applying the match. This gives time for the burner to fill with gas. If the match goes out, shut off the gas and try again. If it burns back into the air hole, also turn off the gas and begin again. Probably the match was applied too soon. Gas stoves get out of order because of carelessness in lighting them. The force of the explosions caused in burning back loosens connections and may disturb the adjustment of the mixer and valve. [Illustration: FIG. 5. Cleaning gas stove.] =14. Cleaning the Stove.= Housekeepers should keep their gas stoves clean. Dirt interferes with the passage of the gas thru the burners. Gas stoves should be cleaned thoroly once a month. Scrub the burners with a stiff brush (Fig. 5), and wash all greasy parts with soap and water. If the holes should be clogged, remove the stoppage with a wire hair-pin (Fig. 6). Clean the drip sheet every day, or as often as it becomes soiled. (Fig. 4.) =15. Accidents with Gas Stove.= Accidents with gas stoves are the result of mismanagement. The odor of gas in a room indicates a leak in the gas fixtures, such as stoves or pipes. When such an odor is noticed, open windows and extinguish all fires in the room or building. Next search for the leak. It may be due to an open valve. See that these are all shut tight. If no valves are open, send for a plumber who looks after gas fixtures. Leave the windows open and do not carry lighted matches or lamps into the room until the leak has been stopped. [Illustration: FIG. 6. Cleaning burner of gas stove.] Many accidents happen at the time the oven is being lighted. Sometimes gas escapes into a closed oven, so that its odor is not noticed in the kitchen. This gas catches fire or explodes when the oven burner is lighted, blowing the oven door open or off the hinges, flashing out of the oven, and burning any person near the stove. To avoid such accidents, always open the oven and broiler doors a few minutes before lighting the oven. Fig. 7 shows construction of gas-stove oven. If any odor of gas is noticed on opening the doors, fan this out. Leave the oven and broiler doors open a while after extinguishing the fire and removing the cooked food. Gas may get into the oven at the time the flame is extinguished. [Illustration: FIG. 7. Gas ovens.] =16. Pilot Light.= Most stoves are constructed so that there is a pilot light for the oven. Always use it when lighting the oven. It is put there for the safety of those using the stove. There is no need for alarm when a pilot burns back, no matter how much noise it makes, since so little gas flows thru the opening. One of the functions of a pilot light is to prevent people from being burnt in case of an explosion in the oven. For this reason, they should be at the side of the stove. If the pilot burns back, close it; wait a minute, and then try lighting it again. The regular burners of the stove should not burn back if properly lighted by the pilot. Be careful to see that every part of the oven burner becomes lighted. Turn the burners on full while lighting them. After they are once lighted, turn them as low as desired. [Illustration: FIG. 8. Pilot light for gas stove.] =17. Pilot for Top Burners.= A pilot made for top burners (Fig. 8) burns continuously with a very tiny flame. Its purpose is to save gas, patience, dirt and matches. The saving comes because the housekeeper can so easily re-light the burners that she will turn them out whenever she is not needing the fire. Sometimes when the gas pressure is low, the pilot light will go out. It can be re-lighted by pressing the valve as for lighting the burners and touching a match to it. If the pilot goes out, the odor of gas will be noticed in the kitchen until it is re-lighted. [Illustration: FIG. 9. Top view of gas stove, showing lighter.] =18. Gas-Stove Lighter.= There are two kinds of gas-stove lighters. These differ from the pilot in that they do not burn constantly. One of these is so constructed that it is first necessary to apply a match to any one of the top burners. The other burners can then be lighted by opening the valve in the regular manner and pressing down on the lighter knob. As soon as pressure on the lighter knob is removed, the gas supply to the lighter is automatically cut off (Fig. 9). The other lighter is made of metal which gives sparks easily when subjected to friction. The lighter is held over the stove, the gas turned on and the friction produced by rubbing one part of the lighter across the other, making a spark which ignites the gas. =19. Amount of Gas Used.= It is claimed that 1,000 feet of illuminating gas produce as much heat as 50 or 60 pounds of anthracite coal or 4-1/2 gallons of kerosene oil. (See table on page 219.) The difference in gas bills, due to management of gas stoves, is considerable. It is very easy for one woman to use three times as much gas as another in doing the same amount of work. Some women do not realize when they are wasting gas. Water boils in an uncovered vessel at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, and no amount of heat applied to it will make it any hotter. When a pot of food has reached the boiling point, a smaller flame will keep it boiling. Turn the gas as low as it may be safely turned and still keep the pot boiling, and the food will cook as rapidly as when the gas is turned on full. [Illustration: FIG. 10. Single top burner and valve.] Gas is a safe fuel in most hands; it saves the housekeeper much labor because it makes so little dirt. When properly managed, it is the cheapest fuel to be had at the present time. =20. Cold-Process Gasoline Gas Stoves.= Cold-process gasoline stoves require a burner fitted with valves in which the gas orifice can be enlarged or diminished. The best of these for using cold-process gasoline gas can be adjusted by a turn of the finger. [Illustration: FIG. 10-_a_. Oven burner.] The adjustment of the valve is to compensate for the neglect upon the part of users of these plants. Very frequently they will allow the supply of gasoline in the carburetor to run nearly out before they replenish it, in which case the gas comes to the burners in a thinner quality, and in order to provide the same volume of heat, it is necessary to adjust the burner valves and throw a larger stream of gas into the burner. They are sometimes fitted with burners having side-sawed caps (Figs. 10 and 10-_a_). These seem to expose the burning gas to the air in a way to make it burn better than in other burners built for gas forced into them by greater pressure than is this gas. The opening for air must be adjusted from time to time so as to keep the proportion of gas and air such that it will produce a blue flame. =21. Acetylene Stoves.= Stoves for the burning of acetylene are similar in construction to gas stoves. The acetylene furnishes a satisfactory and economical light, it is not an economical fuel when compared with kerosene, gas, wood or coal. For this reason, it is not much used. It requires two and three-tenths units of acetylene gas to equal one unit of natural gas for heating. CHAPTER III OIL STOVES [Illustration: FIG. 11. Parts of oil stove burner.] =22. Purpose of Oil Stoves.= Oil stoves are designed for the comfort of the woman who cannot have a gas or an electric stove. They consist of tank, feed pipe and burners (Figs. 11-_a_ and 11-_b_). As they are portable, they can be moved to a summer kitchen or sheltered back porch on hot summer days. Oil stoves are not fool-proof and should never be used by those who are afraid of them and who do not understand them. Manufacturers have done much to make accidents avoidable, and they send detailed instructions with each stove. These should be followed exactly. =23. Mechanical Parts of Kerosene Stove.= The kerosene oil stove consists of a tank of oil with a pipe leading to a hollow ring-like cup below the burner (_A_, Fig. 11). When the burner is lighted, the oil passes down this pipe into the ring, where it becomes heated and is vaporized. As the vapor rises, it is mixed with air and burns with a blue flame. The small holes in the chimney of the burner and at the base of the burner are to admit air. They must be kept open. [Illustration: FIG. 11-_a_. Large oil stove with oven.] If the burner is dirty or not properly adjusted, the right amount of air may not reach the vaporized oil to mix with it and the stove will burn with a yellow flame, making soot and smoke. =24. The Burner.= The burner consists of a chimney, a wick or ring of asbestos, a valve or a lever, and a ring-like cup at the base of the burner. There are three distinct types of burners known as long chimney, short chimney and wickless. The wickless stoves are equipped with a ring of asbestos which serves the purpose of a wick. [Illustration: FIG. 11-_b_. Oil stove without oven.] [Illustration: FIG. 12. Oil stove burner, showing fire close to utensil.] The burners on one oil stove are usually all alike. The burners on various makes differ. Those in which the flame comes nearest the kettle or cooking food produce the most heat for cooking (Fig. 12). Those with the blaze farther away from the food seem to be easier for the excitable woman to manage (Fig. 13). =25. The Chimney.= Kerosene stoves are furnished with metal chimneys. A device for mixing air with the burning fuel forms a part of short chimneys (_B_, Fig. 11). The chimney must set on the burner properly, or the stove will not burn with a blue flame. After lighting a burner, give the chimney a turn or two to make sure that it is in place. There is usually a groove into which it fits. [Illustration: FIG. 13. Burner for oil stove.] =26. Lighting the Stove.= When lighting a stove, turn the valve which permits the oil to flow (_C_, Fig. 11) into the cup below the burner, or lower the lighter into the oil. Wait a moment, if need be, for the wick or ring to become saturated with oil. Raise the chimney and touch the lighted match to the ring or wick at several places. (Fig. 14, and Fig. 11, also, show the position of the chimney and wick for lighting.) Lower the chimney, seeing that it fits back into place. Adjust the wick to the proper height to get a blue flame (Fig. 15). Do not turn very high at first, for, while the stove is becoming heated, the flame burns higher and higher, and may begin to smoke. [Illustration: FIG. 14. Lighting oil stove.] =27. Management of the Flame.= Turn the flame no higher than is needed to keep the pot boiling. Some stoves do not burn well when turned very low. Do not have the flame so high or so low that it gives off smoke or gas. When turning out the fire, be sure to turn the wick clear down, or turn the valve or lever (Fig. 12) to the point indicated as _out_ on stoves which lift the ring above the oil. If this precaution is not taken, most stoves leak oil when not in use, because the wick or rings carry oil to the upper part of the burner where it spreads over the stove. =28. Adjustment and Care of the Stove.= To prevent trouble with uneven flames, set the stove perfectly level, particularly the wickless one. Keep the tank filled, but not too full. Stoves are made so that it is difficult to fill them too full. An oil stove cannot explode unless gas has formed in some part, like the tank, and becomes ignited by heat or a spark. Gas is more likely to collect in the tank when it is almost empty. [Illustration: FIG. 15. Different types of flames.] When the tank is removed for filling, any gas forming passes out into the room and mixes with so much air that it is harmless. If it is filled before the oil burns out of the pipe above the level of the burners, no gas will be formed. Stoves must be kept clean. A clean stove means one with a clean framework, clean burners, clean chimney, clean oil and a clean wick or ring. If a stove has not been in use for some time, replace the old wick with a fresh one (Fig. 16). Clean the stove by wiping off all the parts with a cloth. Keep the charred edges of the wick trimmed level. The wick with a crust of char on top does not burn well. Use a match or small stick in removing the char. Light the wick to see if it is even. If any point burns with a yellow flame, trim this place until the wick burns even. The tank can easily and quickly be lifted off modern oil stoves. Do not refill near a lighted stove. =29. When the Stove Gives Trouble.= In case the stove begins to blaze and cannot be controlled by the valves, remove the tank and carry it to some safe place where the kerosene in it cannot catch fire. When this is done, there is less than a pint of oil left in most stoves, and this will soon burn out without doing much harm, if clothing and water are kept away from the blaze. Open windows and doors to let out gases and smoke. If necessary, move the stove away from walls or furniture. Do not attempt to smother out the flame. There is too much danger of clothing catching fire when this is done. It is far safer to let the small amount of oil left in the stove burn up. Oil stoves cannot explode when the tank is removed. [Illustration: FIG. 16. Inserting new wick.] As soon as the oil has burnt out of the pipes and the wicks are burning with a dull glow, extinguish the smoldering fire on the wicks by patting them with the blade of a knife or a piece of woolen cloth. If a burner has been blazing beyond control, remove the chimney. Brush out any soot which has formed. Examine the burner, taking it apart, if possible. Blazing may come from wicks not fitting, or from their getting so short that the screw on the lever fails to move them up or down. The ring in wickless stoves may not be thick enough, or they may have slipped out of place, or become broken. Replace with new wicks or rings. Notice if any part of the burner shows evidence of melting. If it does, do not use this burner until inspected and mended by an expert. If the lever has become worn so that it fails to work, it must be replaced or a new burner put on the stove. =30. Construction of Gasoline Stoves.= The gasoline stoves consist of a burner and an oil tank connected by a pipe (Fig. 17). The tank is elevated for the purpose of forcing the gasoline into the burner. The pipe may be any length. The danger from a gasoline stove comes from the fact that gasoline vaporizes at a low temperature. If the tank becomes heated, producing gas, and then becomes mixed with the proper proportion of air, it may explode if it comes in contact with a spark. (Fig. 17-_a_ is an illustration of the cross-section of the Red Star gasoline or vapor stove. See page 38.) [Illustration: FIG. 17. Simple gasoline burner.] From the pipe to the burner is a very small opening, so that a stream of gasoline little larger than the diameter of a needle flows into the burner proper, when the valve is open. The valve may be partly closed so that the stream will not flow so fast. Below the burner is a small cup. When the stove is cold, the gasoline flowing into the burner collects here. =31. To Light the Stove.= The way to light the stove is to turn on the gasoline until it fills the cup below the burner. When this is full, close the valve. Set this gasoline on fire. As it burns, it will heat the burner. The burner is heated so that when more gasoline is turned on, this heat will change the gasoline to gas. If the burner is not hot enough to do this, the gasoline flowing from the pipe will flow down into the cup and the stove will burn with a smoky flame which becomes higher and higher and looks very alarming. When this happens, the valve should be closed, and the fire permitted to burn all the gasoline which has collected in the cup. This may be sufficient to heat the burner. Test after the fire has gone out, by lighting a match, turning on the gasoline and touching the lighted match to the burner. If all right, it will burn with a blue flame; if not, it will burn with a yellow flame. If the yellow flame is noticed, turn out the fire by closing the valve, and let the burner get cold before attempting again to light it. See that the burner has not become clogged with soot or dirt. Then proceed to re-light the stove. [Illustration: FIG. 17-_a_. Cross-section of gasoline stove showing burner.] Air must be mixed with the gasoline to make it burn with a blue flame. The air enters the burner through the same tube that the gasoline flows into the cups when the burner is cold. In the burner are small holes for the escape of the gas mixed with air, and here the blue flame should appear, and nowhere else. If it appears elsewhere, the burner is not working properly. Sometimes the gas ignites at the point where the air is mixed with it. The fire should then be turned out and the stove re-lighted immediately. If the little holes where the flames should be, or if any other part of the stove is clogged with soot, it will not burn as it should. It must be cleaned. _A dirty gasoline stove is dangerous._ =32. Filling the Gasoline Stove.= Never get oil on the tank or any part of the stove while filling it. If oil is spilled, wipe it up before igniting the stove. Do not fill the tank when the stove is lighted or when there is a fire anywhere near the tank. If the fire has been burning, close all the valves and wait until it goes out before opening the tank. Close the valve from tank to pipe before filling. Fill the tank and cover it before lighting the stove again. Keep the tank filled. As soon as the indicator, which is attached to a cork which floats on top of the gasoline, shows that the oil is low, turn out the fire and refill the tank. Do not fill the tank to overflowing. Gases from the stove can only get into the tank when it is empty and while there is gasoline in the pipe to feed the stove. Gasoline gas is very inflammable and will cause an explosion if it becomes ignited. The tanks from gasoline stoves cannot be removed, as all the joints must be tight to prevent the escape of gasoline fumes as well as the oil itself. The opening to the tank must never be left uncovered, except for the few minutes while the tank is being filled. The greatest care is required in using a gasoline stove; in fact, they are so dangerous, that they should not be highly recommended for household use. The description and care of them are given here because some persons persist in using them when they desire a quick, hot fire in cases where fuel gas is not available. =33. When a Burner Blazes and Cannot Be Controlled.= When a gasoline stove burner blazes and cannot be controlled, first close the valve leading from the tank into the pipe. There will then be little gasoline to burn, and no gases can get back into the tank. _Keep clothing and water away from the blaze._ Remember that the stove is set on a metal frame which is not inflammable. Shield walls and other objects so that the burner may blaze high without doing damage. Clothing catches fire easily, but the metal stove will not be consumed. If the valves are shut, the blaze will cease when the gasoline has burnt out of the burner and pipe. If the gasoline continues to flow out of the burner in spite of turning the valve and there is a danger of its spreading to the floor or table, set a shallow pan under the stove to catch the gasoline. It can burn in this way with considerable safety. Do not attempt to carry a burning stove. Simply protect floor, walls and furniture from catching fire, and let the gasoline burn. =34. Changing Fuel in Vapor Stoves.= There are some stoves which are interchangeable, in that they may be adjusted to burn kerosene, gasoline or distillate. These are of the type called "vapor" because they change the oil to gas before it is ignited. A change from one kind of fuel to another should never be made without thoroly cleaning the stove and adjusting it to the fuel that is to be used. =35. Operation of Vapor Stoves.= It is safest to use kerosene in these stoves. Distillate is a name given to a different mineral oil product from kerosene or gasoline. To work well, these burners must be kept clean. (Fig. 17-_a_.) The operation of the stove is simple. Put enough fuel, such as alcohol, into a burner to heat it hot enough to change the oil to be used to gas and ignite it. After the burner has heated for three or four minutes, turn on the fuel valve in the pipe which leads from the tank to the burner. The fuel will light from the burning alcohol already in the burner. Adjust the height of the flame by valve, which regulates the amount of fuel flowing into the burner. If anything boils over, put out the fire. Close the valve. Remove the parts of the burner. Clean and wipe them dry. Replace the parts of the burner, and, if not cool, turn on the fuel and light. If cool, heat as for first lighting, and turn on the fuel. Extinguish the fire by closing the valve which stops the flow of oil to the burner. CHAPTER IV ELECTRIC STOVES Electric stoves consist of frame, heating unit and switches to regulate the flow of current. Some are equipped with oven, thermometers and special utensils (Fig. 18). [Illustration: FIG. 18. Stove equipped with utensils.] =36. Heating Unit of Electric Stove.= The heating unit consists of coils of wire or a plate of metal thru which the current flows, meeting resistance and producing heat. If the current flowed freely thru the wires, little heat would be generated (Figs. 19 and 20). [Illustration: FIG. 19. Heating unit of electric stove.] =37. Wiring of Stoves.= It is advocated that a separate circuit of heavy wire be put into all houses where current is used for purposes other than lighting, to provide for cooking and power connections. Too heavy loading of wires with electric appliances causes the burning of fuses and sometimes damages the electric system. Find out how much current the wiring of the house will carry before attaching new devices. There is danger of fire if too much current is allowed to pass over a wire of too small size. =38. Operation of Electric Stoves.= Many stoves are equipped with a switch which permits different amounts of current to pass thru the stove according to the way the device is set. At one point it gives low heat; another, medium, and a third, high heat, and, lastly, no heat. [Illustration: FIG. 20. Heating unit of electric stove.] The cooking of food on an open burner should be started with high heat turned on so that the food may cook quickly. If a large amount of food is cooking, there will be so much radiation from the vessel that it may require all the current to keep it cooking. After food has started cooking, the switch can be turned to medium, and, later, to low, depending upon the amount of food and the temperature desired. Low will keep an ordinary pan of water boiling, once it has started. A few minutes before the food is to be removed from the open burner, the current should be turned off, as the heat in the stove will continue the cooking for several minutes. From tests of electric stoves, it appears that in most of them the food will continue to cook after the switch is turned off for about the same number of minutes that it requires to raise the heating unit to a temperature sufficient to boil water in a small shallow pan. A housekeeper who is using electricity for cooking can soon learn how long the open burners and oven of her stove will keep food cooking after the current is turned off, and by putting this information to use, she can save many dollars in a year. =39. Care of Electric Stoves.= When thru with a stove, always turn off the current. Great care should be taken that the stoves do not become overheated. This shortens the life of the stove. Sudden cooling of the coils of wire caused by liquids spilling on them, and corrosion of the wires caused by dampness, wear out stoves faster than need be. Do not wash or brush dirt from burners having open coils of wire. Burn all dirt from the burners. =40. Utensils for Electric Stoves.= The most economical use of electricity can be secured with utensils built around the heating units (Figs. 20 and 21), and the next most economical use with utensils built especially to fit the heating units. This means that there would be a heating unit for each utensil, or size of utensil, and the expense of equipment would be considerable. Also, more care would be needed in washing the utensils and in preventing them from becoming bent. Such facts must be considered in choosing between stoves with special devices and those on which any pan may be set. After installing an electric stove, start with new utensils because they will not blacken on an electric stove, and so can be washed with the other dishes. [Illustration: FIG. 21. Utensil with heating unit.] When ordinary household utensils are used, they should be of such shape that they stand flat, as they also should on a coal range. The most economical use of heat is secured when the area of heat is smaller than the area of the bottom of the kettle and is concentrated on the utensil. Care should be taken when stoves are installed, that they are properly grounded so that they cannot burn any one. A light bulb is attached to some stoves so that when the current is on the light burns, and when it is off, the light goes out. Such a light should be on all large stoves. =41. Detachable Cooking Devices.= Cooking and heating devices should have larger wires than those for lighting alone. Consequently, the attachment of a heating device in a common light socket may cause burning out of fuses or other damage. One danger in using detachable electric devices occurs in not turning off the current when the stove is not in use, thus permitting it to become overheated. This shortens the life of the stove. Any tendency of a stove or other electric device to give people a shock when being used should be taken as a warning to have the device examined by an expert and the trouble corrected. Have the wires repaired as soon as the insulation breaks or burns off. Uninsulated wires, such as cables and cords, are unsafe. CHAPTER V ALCOHOL, ACETYLENE, AND CANNED HEAT =42. Alcohol Stoves.= Alcohol stoves are made only in small sizes for light housekeeping. There are three general types of these--those which burn with a wick, those which generate gas, and those which permit the alcohol to burn off of the top surface of the container. Alcohol does not produce much smoke in burning, even when no provision is made for mixing air with it. The ordinary alcohol lamp, having a wick, may be used as a heating stove. Stoves with wicks draw the alcohol up by capillary attraction to the point of ignition, and the metal jacket about the wick prevents the fire burning back into the bowl containing the alcohol. The char from the top of the wick must be brushed off from time to time. No other care is needed for these stoves or lamps. Some of them are provided with devices for checking the burning of the alcohol in order to regulate the heat. This is desirable since a small flame of alcohol produces much heat. Extinguish the fire by covering the wick with a metal cup. =43. Vapor Stoves.= Alcohol vapor stoves which generate gas hold the alcohol in a tank slightly raised above the level of the burner. A pipe leads from this to the burner, where a small stream of alcohol is permitted to enter when the valve is open. When starting these stoves, the valve is first opened and enough alcohol allowed to flow out to fill a cup which is below the burner. This generally holds about a tablespoonful of alcohol. When the cup is full, the valve is closed and the alcohol in the cup ignited. This heats the burner enough to vaporize the alcohol. When the burner is heated, open the valve and ignite the gas. If all the alcohol is not vaporized, the burner has not been heated hot enough. Close the valve until all the alcohol in the cup is burnt. =44. Wickless Stoves.= Wickless alcohol stoves are used commonly on chafing dishes. The burner of one type consists of a metal dish packed with a porous material which is non-inflammable, but a good conductor of liquids by capillary attraction, and the top is covered over by a wire screen. The alcohol is poured into the dish. The packing and screen prevent air from entering the bowl with sufficient rapidity to let the fire burn below the screen so the flame stays above it, burning off any alcohol which is conducted to the surface. The only possible way to control these stoves is by a device which can cut off air. One of these is a plate-like device with a handle. This fits over the stove and only that portion of the top burns which is exposed to air through the hole in the plate. Making the hole larger or smaller makes the burning surface larger or smaller. To extinguish the fire, cover the entire top with a solid plate to cut off all air. =45. Canned Heat.= Canned heat is alcohol combined with other substances into a cake about the consistency of hard soap. The cover to the can is used to extinguish the fire. It should not be fitted into the top of the can until the flame has been extinguished for two or three seconds. Then it should be fitted on as tight as possible to prevent waste alcohol by vaporization. =46. Acetylene Gas Stoves.= By adjustment of the amount of air that enters the burner, acetylene may be burnt in a gas stove. Usually a cap is placed over the air hole while the gas is being ignited. This is removed as soon as the gas is lighted, so that it will burn with a blue flame. The use of the cap prevents burning back. It is best, however, to use stoves especially designed for burning acetylene. CHAPTER VI FIRELESS AND STEAM COOKERS =47. The Fireless Cooker.= The fireless cooker is a box or can having a diameter somewhat larger than that of the largest vessel to be placed in it. The space left around the vessel is packed with some insulating material to keep in the heat (Fig. 22). In home-made cookers, this material may be hay, feathers, pillows, shredded newspapers, wood shavings or sawdust. In commercially-made cookers, it is felt, asbestos wool, cork, or other insulating material. Because most insulating material will not stay in place and readily absorbs moisture and odors, some kind of lining is put between it and the vessel holding the food. This makes a little nest, into which the vessel fits. In the better made cookers, this lining is made of metal, and the seams are water-tight. The steam from the cooking food is absorbed by the insulating material if this lining is not impervious to water. Enameled or earthen linings, if well glazed, would also serve this purpose as long as they did not chip or crack. The cover, as well as the sides, of the fireless cooker has to be padded with the insulating material. The cover must also fit well so that the steam and heat will not escape thru cracks between it and the body of the cooker. =48. The Stones of Fireless Cookers.= The stones for fireless cookers are usually made of soapstone or some composite which will absorb considerable heat. They should be slightly smaller in diameter than the nest. They can only be used with safety in cookers which are metal-lined and insulated with material which will not ignite at a low temperature. Stones should not be put in home-made cookers which are not insulated with asbestos or other fireproof material. Hot stones can be used with safety in any of the commercial cookers which come fitted with them. [Illustration: FIG. 22. Section of fireless cooker.] The temperature in a fireless cooker is below boiling most of the time. It is, therefore, a device for simmering food, and should be used for cooking meats, fruits, vegetables and cereal dishes which require or are improved by long, slow cooking. Since the food has to be shut in a fireless cooker to keep in the heat, fireless cookery is a method of steaming of food. For this reason, it has a slightly different flavor from food baked in the oven, much as fried food differs from roasted food. Hot stones (Fig. 22) are put in most fireless cookers. The heat from these brown the food and give to the otherwise steamed food a flavor similar to that developed in baking, roasting and frying. =49. Heating the Stones.= Moisture given off by the cooking food is absorbed by the stones. They must be dried or heated very slowly to prevent this moisture from cracking them. When the stones have been removed from the cooker, wash them, because they absorb odors from the food. Keep them in some warm, dry place while they are not in use, such as in the warming oven of the cook stove or on a radiator. When wanted for use, they will then be dry enough to be placed over the gas-stove burner if it is not turned too high at first. Drying thus saves time when the stones are needed. =50. Care of the Cooker.= The cooker should be left open to air while not in use. As soon as the food and stones are removed from it, the moisture should be wiped out and the inside washed with soap and water, wiped dry and left to air. Such care is needed to prevent the cooker from taking on the odor of dishes previously cooked and transmitting some of them to those cooked later. =51. Other Devices Belonging to Cookers.= In most commercial cookers there are wire devices to raise the dishes of food from the stone (Fig. 23). This prevents scorching and boiling over when the stones are heated very hot. These devices are also used to hold a hot stone above the food to make a brown crust on it. Some cookers are furnished with valves, permitting the escape of steam when it becomes too abundant. The pressure of the steam automatically opens the valve. This device insures the cooking of certain vegetables, cereals or doughs without their becoming too soggy to be palatable (_A_, Fig. 23). =52. Directions for Using the Cooker.= Put the stones on to heat. Prepare the food as for cooking in any other way. Then heat it, either in the oven or on top of the stove. It is preferable to heat the food in the same vessel in which it is to be cooked in the fireless cooker. Transferring food to a cold vessel entails a loss of heat, since the first vessel is already heated. [Illustration: FIG. 23. Devices for fireless cooker.] When the stones and food are hot, place the stone in the bottom of the cooker. Put in any asbestos mats or other devices which are needed to protect the food. The stone should be hot enough to respond to the test for flat irons. It should make the snappy noise of a good hot iron when the finger is moistened and touched to it. Place the food in the cooker. Place another stone above the utensil if it is desirable to have the food brown on top. Close the fireless cooker, and let it stand until ready for use. [Illustration: FIG. 24. Gas cookers.] =53. Time of Cooking Food.= Six hours or over night should be allowed for the cooking of cereals. Stews should be given two to three hours' time for cooking. Large roasts and hams require five to six hours. It is sometimes necessary, when they are large, to remove them and heat the food and the stones on the stove once during the process of cooking. Dumplings and angel cakes cook well in a fireless cooker. So do all dried peas and beans. [Illustration: FIG. 25. Steam cooker.] It is profitable to cook foods requiring more than forty minutes' heating in a fireless cooker. The heating unit is a part of some cookers. Electric cookers, instead of being furnished with stones to be put inside the nest, have a heating unit and plate for holding heat in the cooker. Cold food may be put into this cooker, the current turned on, and the heating and cooking all be done inside the cooker. The electric oven which is well insulated answers the purpose of a fireless cooker when the current is disconnected. Either a thermometer, which the housewife may watch, or thermostat, which controls the current, must be attached to electric cookers to prevent burning the food or injuring the cooker with too much heat. =54. Gas Cookers.= Since heated air rises, special cookers in the form of insulated caps are made to put over dishes of food heated on gas burners (Fig. 24). The inside of the cap must be kept clean. Get the dishes hot with the cap suspended over the food, but leaving about an inch space for the escape of gases from the heating unit. As soon as the food and cap have been sufficiently heated over the fire, turn off the gas and lower the cap so that it will retain the heat. After the cooker has been used, it should be wiped out clean; otherwise it will retain some of the odors of the cooked food. =55. Steam Cookers.= There are several steam cookers in use in homes. The simplest of these is a covered pan which has a perforated bottom, which is set over another pan (_A_, Fig. 25), in which water is placed for forming steam. One of the difficulties of this cooker is that the water in the lower pan cannot be watched and may boil dry. On the more improved cookers a whistling device (_B_, Fig. 25) is attached to the pan, and when the water becomes low and steam ceases to flow through it, air begins to come in, and the device makes a whistling noise. QUESTIONS FOR PART I 1. What is smoke? Under what conditions is the greatest amount of heat for cooking or other household purposes produced from fuel? 2. How is an oven made to heat evenly? 3. Explain the purpose of each draft and damper on a stove. 4. Observe the amount of fuel used in a coal stove from day to day. Make the same kind of observation for a gas or electric stove. How was the stove managed when the least fuel was used? 5. Describe the construction of a gas stove. Find the vent thru which the gas enters the burner. Is this large or small? 6. Where is the air regulator? For what is it used? 7. What has happened when the gas in a burner "burns back"? 8. How should a kerosene stove be regulated? How should it be cared for? 9. What precautions should you take against fire from kerosene and gasoline stoves? 10. Describe the heating unit of an electric stove. 11. How may electric current be saved in the operation of an electric stove? 12. How does a fireless cooker cook food? 13. How may one determine when it is economical to use a fireless cooker? PART II HEATING DEVICES CHAPTER VII WARM-AIR FURNACES =56. Principle Upon Which a Furnace Works.= The success of warm-air heating depends on a natural circulation of air thruout all the rooms which are to be heated. The air is the vehicle of transmission of the heat from the fire to the rooms to be warmed. A warm-air furnace is simply a large stove encased in a sheet-metal jacket (Figs. 26 and 27). The jacket is usually insulated with asbestos, since the stove is set in the basement where radiation of heat is not desired. The air entering the casing is warmed by the stove. As the air is warmed, it expands and becomes lighter, so rises to the top of the furnace; from here it is conducted to the rooms above. The warm air which has passed upward must be replaced by cooler air entering at the bottom of the jacket. In the rooms above, there must be outlets for the cold air, already in them, so that it may be replaced by the incoming warm air. Cold-air shafts from the floor leading downward serve as outlets. Sometimes they return the cooled air to the base of the furnace jacket. [Illustration: FIG. 26. Warm-air furnace.] =57. The Stove Part.= The stove part of the hot-air furnace consists of a fire pot supported above a place where the ashes may fall and a chimney to carry off smoke. The draft below the grate in the fire pot lets in air which is essential to the proper burning of the fuel. In this respect, it is similar to a cook stove. A draft above the fire when opened a little lets in air which aids in the complete combustion of the gases given off by the fuel. Burning these gases adds to the amount of heat secured from the fuel. Opening the draft wider checks the burning of the fire. There should be a damper in the smoke pipe. When this is closed, it checks the draft up the chimney. This is needed because some chimneys often draw up air too fast to make the fire burn well. When checking the fire, close the draft below, open the one above the fire box, and close the one in the pipe. To make the fire burn fast, open the draft below, close the one above the fire box, and open the one in the pipe. Remember that a fire will not burn well if there is too much draft. Adjust the drafts until the fire burns with a clear, bright flame without giving off smoke. After a fire is built, the manner of adding fuel makes a difference in the efficiency of the furnace. When using coal, add it in rather small amounts, spreading it in a layer over the entire fire. Do not make this layer so thick that the fire smokes. The fuel will not burn with a clear flame if the fire is being smothered. Much fuel is wasted by ignorant and careless management of furnaces. [Illustration: FIG. 27. Circulation of warm air.] =58. The Cold-Air Shaft.= It is through a cold-air shaft that the cooler air comes into the furnace. Some furnaces have this built so that it draws the cooling air from the rooms above down into the furnace to be heated again. This is an economical arrangement. Some others draw fresh air from out of doors into the furnace, letting the cold air from the rooms above drain into the cellar and out of doors. This is more expensive, as the air to be heated is usually colder, but it has the advantage of helping ventilate the rooms by bringing a constant supply of fresh air. The cold-air shaft leading from out of doors should have the outer end covered with wire mesh, and a cloth which should be washed or renewed often. Never sweep dirt down a register or cold-air shaft. It comes back into the room in time. Dust the registers occasionally. In older heating systems, there was but one large cold-air shaft to drain the cold air from the rooms above. In more modern houses, a cold-air shaft is placed in every room that may be shut off from the others. This does away with the old difficulty of heating a closed room, for it is as important that the colder air gets out as that the warm air gets in. =59. Hot-Air Pipes.= The hot-air pipes lead from the top of the jacket about the furnace to the floor above. In most houses, one pipe goes to each room. This is unnecessary if the rooms are not closed off, but if they are, they need the pipe entering the room. To economize with heat and regulate the amount of air passing up these pipes, there must be a shutter in them, near the furnace, as well as in the register. This shutter is placed near the furnace so that no heat passes into the pipe when not wanted in the room to which it leads. This saves waste in radiation from the pipe in the cellar. When a room is not in use, close this damper. [Illustration: FIG. 28. Pipeless furnace.] Since warmed air will continue to travel upward so long as it stays warmer than the air above, it is important that the pipes have a continuous rise thruout their entire length, the in some parts the rise may have to be only very slight. The shorter the pipes, the better, for there will be less loss of heat from radiation on the way to the rooms. [Illustration: FIG. 29. One-room, hot-air heater.] =60. Location of the Furnace.= A central location for the furnace is best because the pipes may be shorter, and this makes possible a greater elevation per foot of each pipe, so that the air can flow thru it faster. A central location also permits a uniform distribution of pipes about the furnace, which, in turn, produces a more even flow of air to all the rooms. The air from the hot register rises to the top of the room, or, if the way is open, to the top of the house. Here it spreads over the upper area. As it cools or is displaced by still hotter air, it falls. When it reaches the floor, it flows down the cold-air shaft in the floor. If the cold-air shaft is not in the floor, there may be a layer of colder air there so the room will not be comfortable. =61. Air.= There is a constant change of air in all houses, due to opening of doors and the fact that walls are not air-tight. This may not be enough for comfort. If a room is not heating well, it has been found that opening the window to change the air in the room, even when the outside air is very cold, helps in the circulation of air in the room, and so with the warming of it. It is difficult to warm a room filled with stagnant air. =62. Pipeless Furnaces.= The pipeless furnace works on the same principle as the one with pipes (Fig. 28). One large opening above the furnace lets the heat in to some central room, and from here it circulates into all other rooms not closed off from the central room. The cold-air shaft may be around the opening for heated air. Stoves encased in a metal jacket that operate like hot-air furnaces (Fig. 29) are used in heating one-room schoolhouses and other small public buildings. CHAPTER VIII HOT-WATER SYSTEM OF HEATING =63. Equipment for Hot-Water Heat.= The hot-water system of heating a house consists of a boiler in the basement or below the level of the lowest radiator. This boiler is designed to heat water as it circulates through coils over the fire (Fig. 30). From the boiler, pipes lead to radiators and an expansion tank, and return pipes bring the cold water back to the bottom of the boiler (Fig. 31). [Illustration: FIG. 30. Garland furnace with hot-water boiler.] The heat from the furnace fire causes the water to circulate through this system of boiler, pipes, radiators and tank, due to the fact that hot water is lighter than cold water. [Illustration: FIG. 31. Hot-water heating system.] =64. Heating Unit.= The heating unit of a hot-water system is like any stove consisting of a fire pot and grate. Some are adjustable so that different kinds of fuel may be used. A gas burner is sometimes placed in the fire pot and used for heating a furnace, but this is one of the most wasteful ways of using gas. A real gas furnace is much more economical. The fire and heat from the fire circulate around the coils containing the water. If the coils are not constantly kept full of water, they will be injured by the heat. =65. The Management of the Fire.= When burning coal, spread the coal all over the surface of the fire in a thin layer so as not to smother it and thus make it burn with a smoky flame. Keep the ashes cleaned out from underneath the fire and around the fire pot. Clean the flues every forty-eight hours. Soot on the coils is more effective than asbestos would be in keeping heat from penetrating to the water. Regulate the fire with the drafts. Open the one below the fire box to let in air to aid combustion. Open the one found in most furnace doors a very little. This aids in the combustion of gases, thus making more economical use of the fuel, while opening it wider checks the burning of the fire. Broken and warped doors and drafts let in too much air and destroy the efficiency of the heater. Open the chimney damper, shown in Fig. 2, Sec. 3, admitting air to check the draft. Close the chimney or pipe damper of the type of cook stove shown in Fig. 2, Sec. 3, to check the draft up the chimney. =66. The Pipes.= The pipe carrying the hot water from the boiler out to the heating system leads to the expansion tank, the sometimes separate pipes lead from the boiler to a radiator. Insulate each pipe, except the part in the room to be heated, with asbestos or some other covering, to keep the heat in it. Keep the pipes full of water. When they are installed, see that they are put in so that they gradually rise upward. If they dip downward at any point, air will collect at these places and check the circulation of hot water thru pipes. [Illustration: FIG. 32. Expansion tank.] =67. Expansion Tank.= The expansion tank (_A_, Fig. 31, and Fig. 32), placed somewhat higher than the top of the highest radiator, is fitted with an overflow, for water expands as it is heated. If the expansion tank is closed so that the overflow pipe will not open except under pressure after the air in the tank has become compressed by the expansion of the water, a higher temperature in the pipes may be reached, but such a furnace must be given more careful attention than one with an open expansion tank. Learn to know the parts of a heating system and how they operate before trying to manage it. =68. Water.= Fill the boiler and radiators full of water, and add enough more to partly fill the expansion tank. From time to time, note the height of water in the tank, to know if more must be added. Do not add water when unnecessary, as fresh water tends to rust pipes faster than water from which the carbon dioxide and air have been exhausted. To note the height of water, read the gage. [Illustration: FIG. 33. Vents for radiators.] If there is much sediment in the water used, this must be drawn off from the bottom of the boiler to prevent its accumulating there. When this is done, fresh water must be added to replace the water drawn off. Loss of water from evaporation must also be replaced. No water should be put into the system except to replace such loss. Do not draw the water out of the system, and refill it from time to time. The practice of changing the water in the furnace rusts it more than keeping the same water in it all the time. =69. Radiators.= Radiators (_B_, Fig. 31) are made of rather complicated coils of pipe, so often an accumulation of air lodges in them. This interferes with the circulation of the water and the radiator does not get hot. There usually is a vent (_A_ and _B_, Fig. 33) attached to each radiator to let out air which collects there. If a radiator does not heat well, open the air vent until the air ceases to flow from it and water comes; then close it. Valves should be placed at places where cold water collects in bad plumbing. [Illustration: FIG. 34. Radiators under floor.] In very cold weather, do not entirely shut off the valve of the pipe leading to any radiator, as the circulation of a little warm water is needed to keep it from freezing. Radiators may be placed under the floor (Fig. 34) when so desired. CHAPTER IX STEAM-HEATING SYSTEMS [Illustration: FIG. 35. Steam furnace.] =70. Equipment for Steam Heat.= A steam-heating system consists of a boiler, a fire pot, pipes from the boiler leading to the radiators, and radiators (Fig. 35). On some systems, return pipes are provided to carry condensed steam or water back to the lower part of the boiler. A safety valve (Fig. 36) is attached to steam-heating systems instead of an expansion tank. This keeps the pressure of the steam in the boiler from becoming too great, and thereby prevents an explosion. The pressure gage (_B_, Fig. 35) must be set, and, when set, should only be changed by a person understanding it. Build and manage the fire for a steam boiler the same as for any stove or furnace. Keep water in the boiler at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, so steam may form, for without it, the radiators will not be heated. Small valves are attached to most steam radiators. Their purpose is to let out air, which accumulates in the radiator. As soon as the steam begins to come into the radiator, it forces the air out of the valve. When it reaches the valve, the heat in the steam causes part of the valve to expand and close the outlet, which is small. When the radiator is hot, steam should not escape, provided the valves are in good working order. There is a gage (Fig. 37) furnished with each boiler which shows how much water is in it. [Illustration: FIG. 36. Safety valve.] Keep enough water in the boiler to come within certain lines on the indicator. The top of one of these lines is usually six or eight inches from the top of the boiler. There is always some variation in the amount of water in steam furnaces on account of the formation and condensation of the steam in pipes and radiators. See that the boiler is never empty, but do not put in fresh water except when necessary. [Illustration: FIG. 37. Water gage for steam plant.] The space above the water in the boiler is left for steam. The loss of water from a boiler in good working order is thru the air valves in the radiators. If the furnace is properly managed, very little water should be lost during the course of a year, so there is little need for adding water. Some furnaces have two pipes to the radiators. When steam is shut off from a radiator, the valve leading to the pipe which carries off the water from condensed steam must be closed, also, to prevent the pressure of the steam in the boiler from forcing water from the boiler up this pipe. This may happen because the pipe draining the water from the radiators enters the furnace near the bottom of the boiler. The steam being retained in the furnace presses down on the water and so may force water up the drain pipe, if it is not closed, instead of raising the safety valve. Carelessness of this kind may work much damage, for by this means all the water from the furnace can be forced up into the radiators, leaving the boiler empty. This makes it important that every woman should understand the steam-heating system in her home. Some steam-heating systems have a check valve in the pipe which returns water to the boiler. This valve permits water to flow thru it in but one direction; that is, toward the boiler. This prevents a rush of water from the boiler to the radiators. Steam furnaces, also, are often equipped with another safety-valve device, which is a plug of metal which melts at a rather low temperature and is placed in the boiler directly over the fire. If the water line in the boiler falls low, this plug melts and steam from the boiler puts out the fire, thus saving the furnace from damage. However, melting out the plug makes much work both in replacing the plug and in cleaning the fire box to rebuild the fire, so that it should not be depended upon to regulate the heat in the boiler. Knocking in steam radiators occurs most often in those systems using the inlet steam pipe for the return of the water which has formed as a result of condensation. It is caused by water accumulating at some point and the steam coming up the pipe, violently forcing it back into the radiator. This only reaches a danger point in systems which do not have pipes of the proper size, or when the pipes do not slope gradually downward, so that all the water may flow back to the furnace. On cold days, there will be some knocking in a steam radiator when it is being heated in the morning. A two-pipe system, while it is somewhat more expensive, is less subject to this trouble. =71. Steam Gages.= Steam gages (_B_, Fig. 35) are devices for indicating the pressure of steam within an inclosure. They are a kind of spring balance. When the pressure of the steam increases, it pushes up on the spring, and this turns the hand of the indicator, which shows the number of pounds of pressure that the steam is exerting on the inside of the boiler or container. =72. Safety Valve.= A safety valve (Fig. 36 and _A_, Fig. 38) consists of a small opening to a boiler over which is a weight. When steam is developed until it makes enough pressure on the inside of the valve to raise this weight, some of the steam escapes, thus lowering the pressure on the inside until the weight falls back into place. Never let anything interfere with the action of safety valves. [Illustration: FIG. 38. Heating plant showing safety valve.] Most safety valves have the weight attached to a lever which has a movable weight on it so that the position of the weight on the lever makes a difference in the number of pounds of pressure required to open the valve. By means of this device, the temperature of the inside of the boiler can be kept at one heat or another as desired, since this temperature increases or decreases with the pressure under which the steam is held. Thus, fifteen pounds pressure means a different temperature from ten pounds pressure. Be sure to adjust the weight for the temperature desired. Pushing the weight toward the valve lessens the amount of pressure needed to open the valve. There is usually a steam gage on boilers to indicate the temperature and pounds of pressure inside. When the indicator reaches the point desired, the safety valve may be set so that all steam in excess of the desired amount will escape. When this is done, the temperature will be held constant in the boiler so long as a good fire under it is maintained. CHAPTER X FIREPLACES AND HEATING STOVES =73. Construction of Fireplace.= Fireplaces are an enlargement in the base of a chimney where fire is built. The upper part of the fireplace is sloped forward, and, in some cases, a damper is placed in the chimney to regulate the flow of air upward. The damper should not be so constructed that it will close entirely, for if it did, the smoke would come into the room. The fire in the fireplace burns best when the fuel is put in a grate or on andirons so that air can get under it and be drawn thru it by the draft of the chimney. A steady draft makes the combustion of the fuel complete and thus prevents smoking. The hearth is made of fireproof material and should be wide enough to catch all sparks flying from the fire. A screen is often needed for safety from fire. Do not pile reserved fuel or put rugs on the hearth. Fireplaces and chimneys should be built of fireproof brick, stone or concrete. Have them examined once a year for cracks, as these make them unsafe. The walls of the chimney and the fireplace should be thick enough to prevent danger from fire. =74. Management of Fireplace.= The management of a fireplace is very simple. The draft up the chimney should be properly regulated so that the fire does not smoke. Sparks and bits of fuel should not be drawn up the chimney. The fire should be built so that it is not smothered. Air should circulate thru the fuel. Keep the ashes cleared away. There are some fireplaces which are intended to heat rooms after the manner of hot-air furnaces. The heat and smoke from the fire pass upward thru a metal heater, encased by an air chamber. Much of the heat passes thru the metal, warming the air in the chamber. This warmed air passes thru pipes and registers into the rooms, while the smoke finds its way to the chimney. To complete the circulation of air, the cold air from the floor passes into the air chamber near the floor at the sides of the fireplace. Sometimes fresh air from the outside of the building is mixed with the air in the chamber. If there is an opening in the floor of the fireplace, a damper should be put in this opening to regulate the flow of air. The heater in a fireplace must be kept free from soot and ashes. If the metal is covered with soot, heat will not readily pass thru it, and the soot will collect moisture and cause rusting. One way to keep the heater clean is to regulate the draft up the chimney so that ashes and bits of burning fuel are not drawn into it. Also, the fire should be kept burning with a clear (not smoky) blaze. Soot is unburnt fuel. =75. Operating Heating Stoves.= A stove is a device for holding the fuel and for permitting the heat to pass readily into the room. In the stove there is space below the fire for collecting ashes. There is an opening for fresh air to enter below the fuel, to aid combustion, and a damper above to act as a check draft when open, a chimney to carry off smoke, and one or two dampers in the chimney to regulate the draft. When a fire is being built, close the draft over the fire box and open the one below; open the damper in the chimney--this allows the free passage of the air up the chimney. =76. Care of the Stove.= Do not permit a large bed of ashes to accumulate in the bottom of a stove. A thin layer of ashes must be kept in the bottom of some wood stoves to keep the fire away from the metal bottom. The polish or finish of the stove is a matter of taste. Some stoves are made of iron, which does not need blacking; some must be blacked. Blacking keeps them from rusting. All must be kept free from dust and dirt, as this accumulates moisture and causes the stove to rust. Letting the stove get red hot warps it. It should not be permitted to get so hot. The grate (Fig. 3) in stoves holds the fuel so that air can flow up thru it. If the grate is clogged with ashes, this cannot happen. The grate should be shaken to make the ashes drop thru. A clean grate is important to the complete combustion of the fuel. Shaking after glowing coals begin to fall is a waste of fuel. When an attempt to shake the grate is made, it may suddenly refuse to move. In this case, something may have lodged between its parts, or it may have been shaken from its proper position. Shaking the stove too hard may displace the grate. The common remedy for a displaced grate is to let the fire go out, remove all ashes and cinders, and readjust the grate. Some kinds of soft coal form "clinkers," and these catch in the grate. In burning fuel that makes clinkers, shake the ashes from the fire several times a day. Remove all accumulations in the fire box daily. Clinkers are made from substances which melt and recombine, forming a different material which is quite hard and does not burn. Constant attention to the fire prevents clinkers from forming in large masses. CHAPTER XI GAS, ELECTRIC AND KEROSENE HEATERS =77. Kinds of Gas Heaters.= There are several types of gas heaters--those using an illuminating flame and reflector, those fitted with a Bunsen burner and an asbestos back, and those heating water in a device like a radiator. The last two burn with a blue flame. All gas stoves ought to be fitted with a flue for discharging the products of combustion. [Illustration: FIG. 39. Gas heater showing air mixer.] =78. Bunsen Burner and Asbestos-Back Heater.= The burner is a long pipe punctured with holes extending across the stove. There is an opening for mixing of air with the gas at the point where this pipe enters the stove, and a valve to regulate the flow of gas (Fig. 39). =79. Lighting Gas Stoves.= To light the stove, open the valve, count three, and apply a lighted match to the burner. Counting three gives time for the pipe to fill with gas, so that the fire will not flash back and burn in the air mixer. =80. Care of Gas Stoves.= The only care that this stove needs is to keep it polished so that it will not rust. Keep the burner clean of dust and soot. Be sure that the valve is entirely closed when the gas is turned off, and that the pipes fit tight at all connections so that gas cannot leak into the room. [Illustration: FIG. 40. Reflector gas heater.] =81. Illuminating Flame and Bright Metal Reflector Heaters.= These heaters are used with manufactured gas. They burn with an illuminating flame since there is no device for mixing air with the gas as it enters the stove. The bright metal reflector not only makes an attractive stove, but reflects the heat out into the room. Some stoves are made with tips of aluminum or other non-corrosive metal over the openings in the burner (Fig. 40). Gas logs are a type of gas heaters used in fireplaces (Fig. 41). =82. Gas Radiator Heaters.= Gas radiators (Fig. 42) are another type of gas heater. The radiator is a coil of pipe. The heating unit is below the coil and works like any other Bunsen burner. A small amount of water is kept in the pipes. There is a device attached to the radiator to automatically adjust the height of the gas fire (_A_, Fig. 42). [Illustration: FIG. 41. Gas logs.] =83. Management of Gas Radiator.= Put enough water in the radiator or coil of pipe to fill it to the depth of one inch. Keep this amount of water in it at all times. Light a match, turn on the valve which lets gas flow into the burner, wait for it to fill with gas, and touch the match to the burner. Most of these heaters are fitted with thermostats. [Illustration: FIG. 42. Gas radiators.] In about thirty minutes after lighting the gas, the water will have formed enough steam inside the radiator to automatically turn the valve lowering the gas flame. If the steam pressure falls low, the thermostat will permit more gas to flow into the radiator by automatically opening the valve. There is a safety valve attached to the side of the radiator which opens if the automatic device fails to close off the gas before the steam pressure inside becomes too great. =84. Kerosene Heaters.= Kerosene heating stoves have burners like those used on kerosene cook stoves. (See Chapter III.) Surrounding, or about, the burner is a jacketed air space. Here air is heated and rises to the upper part of the room while fresh air from the lower part of the room is drawn thru the jacket. Some heat is also given off by radiation. Fig. 43 shows a picture of an oil heater. [Illustration: FIG. 43. Oil heater.] The burners of these stoves should be cared for the same way as the ones on cooking stoves. The stove should be kept polished and free from dust. This prevents it from rusting. Wipe off any kerosene which may accumulate on the outside, for it makes an unpleasant odor. Take care in moving kerosene stoves not to jar the chimney or other parts of the burner out of place; otherwise the stove will smoke. When the stove is lighted, turn the burner quite low. The flame will become higher as the parts of the stove become heated. [Illustration: FIG. 44. Electric heater.] =85. Electric Heaters.= The electric heaters (Fig. 44) are composed of one or more coils of wire thru which the electric current flows with difficulty. This heats the coils so hot that they glow. A reflector throws the heat out into the room. The coil and reflector are attached to a pedestal. They are desirable for use in rooms which are not quite warm enough. Care must be taken to avoid getting an electric shock from electric heaters, as from any other electrical appliances. If the stove seems to be out of order, have it put in order before using. Take care not to touch a water pipe or gas pipe at the same time when touching the heater in the bathroom, as there is a possibility of getting a shock. =86. Acetylene Heaters.= Acetylene heaters are similar to the Bunsen burner and asbestos-back gas heaters. They are provided also with copper side reflectors. They are used only in localities where gas or electricity cannot be had. QUESTIONS FOR PART II 1. What are the essentials in heating a house with a hot-air furnace? 2. How does the "pipeless" furnace differ from the other types? 3. Explain the circulation of water thru a hot-water heating system. 4. What is the purpose of the expansion tank? Where should it be located? 5. Describe a steam-heating system. 6. What care should be taken in managing a steam-heating system? 7. What precautions should be taken when using an electric heater? PART III LIGHTING DEVICES CHAPTER XII ELECTRIC LIGHTS =87. Kinds of Electric Lamps in Use.= The electric lamps on the market now are either tungsten (also called Mazda) or metallized carbon (called gem carbon) lamps. Of all lighting appliances, electric lamps and systems are most easily cared for. If properly selected, they make an excellent light from the standpoint of hygiene. It is important for every one to know enough about lighting to be able to select proper kinds and sizes of lamps. =88. Electrical Measurements.= A volt is the unit of electric pressure which compares with the pound as the unit of water pressure. An ampere is the unit of electricity flowing thru a wire which compares to the gallon as the unit of water per minute flowing thru a pipe. A watt is the unit of electrical power. It is determined by multiplying the volts by the amperes. A kilowatt equals 1000 watts. A kilowatt hour equals 1000 watt-hours. A watt-hour is the amount of energy needed by a device which uses one watt and is operated for one hour. For example, a 25-watt lamp uses 25 watts, and if it is operated one hour, it uses 25-watt hours of electricity. The cost of burning an electric lamp is the number of watts marked on the lamp multiplied by the hours the lamp is burned, and then translated into kilowatt hours and multiplied by the price per kilowatt hour. [Illustration: FIG. 45. Direct light.] =89. Carbon Lamps.= Few carbon lamps are being made now, but they may still be obtained in some stores. The carbon lamp can be distinguished from Mazda lamps (Fig. 45) by the appearance of the filament. The carbon lamp gives about 0.40 candles of light per watt of electricity consumed. Carbon lamps burn, making a yellow or reddish light, and consume fully twice as much current as Mazda lamps of the same candle power. =90. Mazda or Tungsten Lamps.= Tungsten lamps are the ones in common use. They give 0.80 to 1.00 candle of light to one watt of electricity used. They have a filament of tungsten and may now be used in any position. Less electricity is required to bring tungsten to a glowing white heat than other materials used in lamps. To compare the brightness of two lamps, do not look at the filament, but hold pieces of white material like paper at an equal distance from each lamp and compare the brightness of the surfaces; or put an opaque object in front of the light and let a shadow be cast on another object. The brighter light will cast a heavier shadow. When substituting a new tungsten lamp for a carbon lamp, select one about one-half the number of watts, unless more light is wanted. In houses, it is a common practice to substitute a 40-watt Mazda for a 50-watt gem carbon lamp, thus saving ten watts per hour and getting more light. =91. Selecting Lamps for a Room.= There are so many possibilities for the use of electricity in lighting a house, that it becomes a fine art. When buying lights for a room, consider (1) the size of the room, (2) the use of the room, and (3) the color of walls, floors, ceilings, furnishings and decorations. For lighting purposes, lamps may be obtained ranging from 10 or less to more than 100-candle power. There are colored, transparent and frosted globes. There are reflectors and shades of various colors and patterns. To obtain the same degree of illumination, smaller lamps are needed in small rooms than in large ones. =92. Effect of Color Schemes Upon Illumination.= The color of the walls and furnishings makes a difference in the candle power required to give a certain amount of light. Those colors which absorb the most light require the higher candle power, and those reflecting the highest per cent of light require the lower candle power. The frosted globes absorb some light, they diffuse the rest of it. They dispense with the annoyance of glare from lamps, and are useful in places where the full intensity of the lamps is not required. The light absorbed by different colors varies considerably, as shown by the accompanying table: TABLE SHOWING ABSORPTION OF LIGHT PERCENTAGE OF LIGHT COLOR ABSORBED White 30 Chrome yellow 38 Orange 50 Clean pine wood 55 Yellow paper 60 Yellow paint (clean) 60 Light pink paper 64 Dirty pine wood 80 Dirty yellow paint 80 Emerald green paper 82 Dark brown paper 87 Vermilion paper 88 Blue green paper 88 Cobalt green paper 88 Deep chocolate paper 96 =93. Distribution of Light.= Light in rooms for general use should be distributed as evenly as possible thruout the entire room. Avoid excessive contrasts of brightness and darkness. Have the lamps shaded to diffuse the light so that no one need look directly at the filament. When working by a light, do not put the lamp very close to the material, as this produces too strong contrasts of light and dark, or, when reading, it produces too much reflection from the white parts of the paper, which is trying on the eyes. Direct lighting means that the rays from the lamp go directly into the room (Fig. 45). Indirect lighting means that the rays are all directed toward a reflecting surface such as the ceiling (Fig. 46). From here they are reflected, giving an even amount of light to other parts of the room. When directed toward the ceiling, they make it the brightest part of the room. A semi-indirect light avoids this difficulty (Fig. 47). In diffused lighting, the lamp is covered, as by frosting, so that the rays of light are broken up and so scattered that no direct ray shines into the eyes, and there is no bright spot of light in the room. [Illustration: FIG. 46. Indirect light.] When costs must be limited, certain decorative effects must be weighed for their value, some being more expensive than others. City lighting plants can provide current for any number of lamps in a house if it is properly wired. If more lamps are attached than the wiring will carry, and all are turned on, the fuses will burn out. Electric plants for private homes (see Sec. 271) usually furnish current of a different voltage from city electric plants, so special equipment and lamps must be used with small plants. Inquire of the company who installed the wiring or electric system, how many lights and other devices can be attached and for what voltage they should be made. [Illustration: FIG. 47. Semi-indirect light.] CHAPTER XIII GAS LIGHT [Illustration: FIG. 48. Mantles.] =94. Construction of Mantles.= A mantle is a device made of thread saturated with some fireproof material like a mixture of thorium and cerium which will glow, giving off a white light when heated hot. The mantle (_A_ and _B_, Fig. 48) is placed over the burners of lamps using liquid or gaseous fuel. The gas is mixed with air so that it burns with a blue flame. The blue flame gives off little light, but it does not smoke and is much hotter than a yellow flame. When a mantle is placed over the blue flame, it is heated with less fuel consumption than is required to make a yellow illuminating flame. The light from the glow of the mantle is steadier and whiter than the light from an open flame, so that it is more hygienic. Mantles are made in different patterns so that they may be used on upright and inverted burners. The inverted mantle throws more light downward than an upright mantle. This is advantageous in lighting a room, for most of the light is wanted in the lower part of the room. Mantles can be used on lamps burning gas, kerosene, gasoline, alcohol and acetylene if the burners are made to produce a blue flame. (See Figs. 48 and 52.) [Illustration: FIG. 48-_a_. Adjusting gas light.] =95. Care of Mantles.= Strong jars and drafts will break mantles, for they are very fragile. The explosion caused by burning back when the lamp is being lighted is most destructive to mantles. To save mantles, wait until the lamp has filled with gas before touching the lighted match to it. =96. Fixtures for Burning Gas.= Gas will burn just as it escapes from a pipe. The flame of burning gas is yellow and makes considerable light. In order to secure more light for the amount of gas burned, put a tip on the end of the pipe, with a long, narrow slit in the top to spread the flame. These are usually lava tips. Natural gas gives very little light when burned in an open flame. Always burn it in mantle lamps. Its heating value is 1000 B.T.U. per cubic foot. When burned in a well-adjusted mantle lamp, natural gas will give about 15 candle hours per cubic foot. The heating value of manufactured gas is rated at 600 B.T.U. per cubic foot. It makes a fair light when used in an open flame burner. The yellow flame of burning gas makes considerable smoke, even when carefully adjusted. It gives four times as much light and no smoke when it is burned in a good mantle lamp. [Illustration: FIG. 49. Bunsen burner for gas light.] In the special burner of the mantle lamp, the gas is mixed with air so that it will burn with a blue flame (Fig. 49). A blue flame is not good for lighting, but when a mantle is placed over the flame, it becomes heated, glowing hot. Since the mantle is made of a material which gives off a white glow, it lights the room with a steady light which is far better than the flickering light of the open flame (Fig. 48-_a_). =97. Adjustment.= See that the ports thru which air is drawn into the lamp are open as wide as needed to give a clear, smokeless flame without firing back. Some lamps are fitted with a screw beside the cocks to regulate the amount of gas flowing into the lamp. It should be adjusted so that no more gas flows into the lamp than is needed to get as bright a glow as possible from the mantle. Regulate the gas flow by closing the valve attached to this screw until the mantle decreases perceptibly in brightness, and then slowly opening it until the mantle becomes bright. Gas companies often adjust lamps for their customers. =98. Care of Lamps.= Clean the burners if they become sooted. Replace mantles if they are broken. [Illustration: FIG. 50. Open-flame acetylene burner.] =99. Lighting a Gas Light.= When lighting a lamp, turn on the gas, count three, and then light the lamp. Counting three gives time for the burner to fill with gas and prevents burning back with an explosion. Mantles are very delicate and easily broken by jars or strong drafts. Burning back may break the mantle. Burning back means that the gas ignites at the opening where it should be mixing with the air instead of at the tip of the burner. This happens when the lamp is lighted before it becomes filled with gas, or when there is too much air mixed with the gas. =100. Cold-Process Gasoline Gas.= It is more economical to use cold-process gasoline gas with a mantle lamp than an open-flame burner for lighting. Be sure to use the burners made especially for this kind of gas. The lamps are managed like all others. =101. Acetylene Lamps.= Open-flame burners are used for acetylene gas because no mantle burner has been constructed which will operate reliably with this rich gas. Acetylene gas gives about ten times as much light per cubic foot as manufactured gas burned in an open flame. The burners require little care. Sometimes the holes in burners become stopped, and they should be cleaned out with a fine pointed instrument like a needle. When they do not work well, it pays to replace the old tips with new ones. [Illustration: FIG. 50-_a_. Showing electric lighting device for acetylene burner.] Acetylene gas burners are constructed so that a very fine spray of gas strikes another fine spray, which, when ignited, makes a broad flame. This flame, which is almost white, gives off light. The burners appear as illustrated in Fig. 50. =102. Care of Burners of Acetylene Lamps.= Keep the two holes open. Clean them with a large needle. See that there are no leaks about the burners or pipes. If these are found, fill with white lead or some similar substance, and tighten connections. If this does not suffice, the trouble should be referred to a plumber. Fig. 50-_a_ shows an acetylene burner. Acetylene lamp mantles can be used only with acetylene which is under high pressure. Therefore, they cannot be used with all plants. The special burner for mixing air with the acetylene to make it burn with a blue flame must be used with the mantle. CHAPTER XIV KEROSENE LAMPS =103. Construction of Kerosene Lamps.= A kerosene lamp consists of a bowl, a burner, a wick and a chimney. In the ordinary lamp, the bowl for holding the oil is placed below the burner (Fig. 51). The wick carries the oil from the bowl into the burner by capillary attraction--one end being in the oil and the other in the burner. [Illustration: FIG. 51. Lamps and lamp chimneys.] The burner, which has holes in it to let in air, holds the wick so that only the oil reaching the top burns. The area and shape of the flame depends upon the form of the top surface of the wick. The glass chimney is used to cause an air current thru the burner and to protect the flame from outside drafts. A screw moves the wick thru the burner. If the wick is too small, the fire may burn back thru the burner and ignite the oil in the bowl. It is important that a wick fit the burner. If the chimney is too short or broken, the lamp will smoke _(A_, _B_, Fig. 51). =104. Management of Kerosene Lamps.= When the lamp smokes, it is wasting fuel. Smoke is incompletely burnt fuel. The oil in the lamp should be clean. It should never be mixed with gasoline or other more explosive oils. Fill the bowl each day the lamp is used to within one-half inch of the top. A full bowl helps to make a safe lamp. Put the chimney on the lamp so that it fits in its holder. Keep it clean and bright. Keep the wick clean and trimmed evenly. See that it entirely fills the opening thru the burner. This prevents the fire from burning back down the burner and igniting the oil in the bowl. Oil will not pass up a wick which fits too tight. Do not cut a wick to trim it, but keep the charred part scraped or brushed off even with the top of the slit in the burner. A burnt match is useful for this purpose. [Illustration: FIG. 52. Mantle for kerosene lamp.] =105. Lighting a Kerosene Lamp.= When lighting a lamp, be sure it is in order and that any openings to the bowl are closed. Lift the chimney, turn the screw to raise the wick about one-eighth inch above the slit. Touch a lighted match to the wick, adjust the chimney, and, lastly, move the wick up or down until it burns clear and bright without smoking. After the burner becomes warm, the flame may grow higher and smoke. Do not leave a newly-lighted lamp unwatched. After the lamp is heated and adjusted, it should burn with a flame of even height. =106. To Extinguish a Lamp.= Turn the wick down until it is slightly below the top of the slit. Do not turn too far. It will then go out of itself, or a slight puff of air will extinguish it. This is safer and will smoke the chimney less than attempting to blow out the full flame. =107. Care of Lamps.= Keep the inside and outside of bowl and chimney clean. Wipe all soot from the burners. Trim the wick each day the lamp is used. Fill the bowl with oil to within one-half inch of the top. Get new wicks when the old ones become dirty. =108. Kerosene Mantle Lamps.= Kerosene mantle lamps (Fig. 52) give three to four times as much light per unit of oil as the ordinary kerosene lamp. Many mantle lamps on the market are unreliable. Care, therefore, should be taken to give the lamp a trial before investing so as to be sure to get a good one. The care and lighting of mantle lamps differ so much that the directions must be furnished by the manufacturer and should be followed with exactness. CHAPTER XV ALCOHOL AND GASOLINE LAMPS =109. Classification of Lamps.= Since the principle of operation is the same for most alcohol and gasoline lamps, they will be considered together. [Illustration: FIG. 53. Gasoline or alcohol lamp.] These lamps may be divided into two classes--gravity lamps and pneumatic, or pressure, lamps. =110. Gravity Lamps.= Gravity lamps have the tank elevated above the burner so that the force of gravity brings the fluid to the burner. It is usually a little to one side of the burner so that it cannot become heated by it. A pipe from the tank leads downward and either over the chimney or under the burner, where it will be heated by the flame of the lamp. When heated, it changes the gasoline or the alcohol to gas. The pipe carries the gas on to a point where it is mixed with air before it flows into the burner (Fig. 53). =111. Lighting the Gravity Lamp.= In order to light these lamps, the generator must first be heated so as to make the gas. After this has once been done, the heat of the lamp keeps the generator hot. As soon as the gas is formed, light the lamp. These lamps are furnished with mantles. The flame is blue and, consequently, gives out very little light, but much heat. The mantle covering the flame is heated to glowing white heat and gives off much light of a white color. =112. Pressure Lamps.= Pressure lamps (Figs. 54 and 55) have a strong tank which holds air and fuel, whether alcohol or gasoline. Air is pumped into the tank so that it presses on the fuel with force enough to push the fuel up the pipe leading from the bottom of the tank to the generator. The air cannot get into the pipe so long as there is fuel which is heavier than air in the tank, because the pipe which leads to the burner starts from the bottom of the tank. [Illustration: FIG. 54. Details of gasoline lamp.] [Illustration: FIG. 55. Pneumatic gasoline lamp.] The generator for changing the liquid fuel to gas is placed between the burners of the lamp, of which there are usually two. After the generator has been heated, the lighted lamps keep the generator hot. The gas being very light, continues to rise. It passes thru a place where it is mixed with air, and goes on into the burner, where it is ignited. If the lamp burns low, more air must be pumped into the tank to force up the gasoline or alcohol. When all the fluid has been burned, the lamp will go out, since, then, only the air which is under pressure in the tank will be coming into the burner. Extinguish the lamp by turning off the supply of fuel to the generator. To light these lamps, first heat the generator, as directed for the particular lamp in use, and then light the burners. Detailed directions cannot be given here, as they differ with different lamps. =113. Gasoline Lamps with Wicks.= There are some gasoline lamps made with wicks which help conduct the oil into the burner, where it is changed to gas by the heat from the lamp, mixed with air and burned in a mantle. The flame, from a mixture of alcohol or gasoline and air, is blue and gives off little light, but much heat. It is used with a mantle. =114. Alcohol Lamps with Wicks.= The wick of one type of alcohol lamp conducts the alcohol up thru a round tube which it completely fills. The tube prevents the fire from burning down into the bowl of the lamp. Alcohol makes a very hot and almost smokeless flame, even when little air is present. The mantle is put over the flame, and, when heated, gives a good light. Other ordinary fuels cannot be used on so simple a lamp because they would smoke the mantle. =115. Lighting Alcohol or Gasoline Lamps.= Heat the conducting pipe at the point where the fuel is to be changed to gas. (Directions for this come with each lamp, and they differ considerably.) After being heated sufficiently, the valve leading to the burner is opened and the burner lighted with a match or torch. Use clean gasoline for these lamps, unmixed with water or other substances. QUESTIONS FOR PART III 1. Are there any differences in the electric light globes on the market? If so, in what ways do they differ? How do these differences affect the lighting power of the globes? 2. What influence has the size and decoration of the room on the brilliancy of light from a given lamp? 3. How should the light in a living-room be distributed? 4. What are the differences in direct, semi-direct and indirect lighting? 5. What is the purpose of a mantle for a gas or kerosene lamp? 6. What is the difference in burners to be used with and without mantles? 7. How is the light from a lamp measured? 8. Which lamp gives the greatest candle power of light for the amount of fuel used--the one with or the one without a mantle? PART IV COOLING DEVICES CHAPTER XVI REFRIGERATORS =116. Principles of Refrigeration.= Refrigerators (Fig. 56) are designed to prevent the rapid spoiling of food by keeping it too cool for the rapid growth of bacteria. They vary considerably in their efficiency, according to their construction and to the way in which they are managed. To preserve food and to save ice, the housewife must understand her refrigerator, and she must choose a good one. There is as much difference in the efficiency with which housewives manage their refrigerators as there are differences in refrigerators. [Illustration: FIG. 56. Refrigerator.] A series of experiments were conducted with a number of different makes of refrigerators. When the outside temperature was between 80 and 90 degrees Fahrenheit, and when the refrigerators were kept full of ice, it was found that the temperatures in different refrigerators varied between 45 and 60 degrees Fahrenheit. When the refrigerators were only partly full of ice, their temperatures rose several degrees. The refrigerators which held a temperature of 45 degrees when filled with ice, or with 100 pounds, used 25 pounds of ice each in three days, while in the same three days, the ones which could maintain only a temperature as low as 65 degrees, used 50 pounds each. The warmer the inside of a refrigerator, the faster the ice melts. In general, a refrigerator which maintains a low temperature is cheapest to operate. The refrigerator should be kept full of ice exposed so that it comes in contact with the air circulating within the refrigerator. The refrigerator which does not hold a low temperature will not only use more ice, but be less efficient in keeping food. =117. The Construction of Refrigerators.= The construction of a refrigerator should be such that it may be kept clean. There should be no cracks and corners to catch dirt and make breeding places for molds and bacteria. =118. Lining Refrigerators.= The best linings for refrigerators are porcelain, porcelain enamel, or glass for the more expensive ones, and galvanized iron or zinc for the less expensive ones. The shelves are usually made of heavy wire or of bent metal. The latter should be constructed so that they can be thoroly cleaned. [Illustration: FIG. 57. Diagram showing circulation in a refrigerator.] =119. Insulation of Refrigerators.= The more complete the insulation of a refrigerator, the more efficient it will be. Different kinds of material, as well as dead-air spaces, are used for this purpose. The top, as well as the bottom, must be insulated. Materials which are likely to crack or settle down and leave uninsulated spaces should not be used. Because sawdust settles, it is not satisfactory. There are felts, papers and other materials which are good. If the refrigerator is not water-tight and the insulating material absorbs water, it will lose its efficiency for insulation. =120. Circulation in Refrigerators.= The better the circulation in a refrigerator, the more efficient it will be. The air in the refrigerator must be free to circulate over the ice. As it cools, it should drop to the bottom of the ice box. When it warms, it will rise and be displaced by fresh falling cold air. It should be free to rise to the top of the refrigerator and from there pass into the ice chamber and over the ice to be cooled again (Fig. 57). When the ice always melts unevenly and in the same relative place--that is, more on the side or bottom--it indicates poor circulation in the refrigerator. =121. Drip from Melting Ice.= There should be a pan under the ice to catch the drip from the melting ice, and a drip pipe to carry it out of the refrigerator (Fig. 57). If the drip pipe passes into a pan set under the refrigerator, the pan should be emptied so that it will not overflow. The water in the pan should not be allowed to become stagnant. If this pipe passes to a drain, it should not be attached to the drain, but drip into it. The small amount of fresh air passing up the drip pipe from the room is advantageous. Because some air does flow thru here, the drip pipe and the drain pipe must be clean and free from gases and odors. The drip pipe should be straight and free from places in which dirt may collect. It must be removable, so that it can be cleaned. The doors of the refrigerator must shut so tightly that frost or dew will not form about their edges on a hot day. =122. Arrangement of Food in the Ice Box.= Ice boxes are usually cooler at the bottom than at the top. Do not put food in the ice chamber because this necessitates opening the door and wastes ice. Do not put papers or flat boxes on the shelves which will interfere with the circulation of air in the refrigerator. =123. Filling and Care of the Ice Box.= The housewife must open the doors of the ice box as seldom as possible, and close them quickly. Do not cut off the circulation of air from the ice by wrapping it in a blanket or newspapers. It cannot do its work then. The ice box is kept cold by the gradual melting of the ice. The ice melts fastest as the temperature of the ice box rises. Covering the ice may keep it from melting, but it will also allow the refrigerator to get warm, and so, whatever is gained in saving ice at first, will be lost at the higher temperature and in cooling the box again. Steady melting does the most good. The shelves and drain pipe should be removable, and these and the refrigerator should be washed and thoroly scalded once in every two weeks. There is a saving in planning to open the refrigerator as little as possible. The filling of the ice box with a large piece of ice two or three times a week, rather than with a small piece every day, is more economical. CHAPTER XVII ICELESS REFRIGERATORS; WATER COOLERS =124. Comparative Efficiency of Iceless Refrigerators.= In some localities, where it is difficult to get ice often enough to pay for having a refrigerator, other devices have to be depended upon for keeping food cool. Except when cold running water can be used in coolers, they do not take the place of refrigerators, because they cannot maintain the low temperature of a good refrigerator. As a rule, the best of the makeshifts are about on a par with the poorer refrigerators. They are very useful in emergencies. [Illustration: FIG. 58. Iceless refrigerator.] =125. Iceless Refrigerator.= One of these devices is called the iceless refrigerator (Fig. 58). It depends upon the evaporation of water to make it cool. Water will evaporate sufficiently fast to cool a refrigerator enough to be of value only in a dry, hot, breezy place. Under the most ideal condition, an iceless refrigerator may hold as low a temperature as 65 degrees Fahrenheit, when the thermometer is registering above 90 degrees. This refrigerator consists of a cloth-covered frame and a device for keeping the cloth moistened with fresh water. Since wind or a good circulation of air helps in the evaporation of water, the iceless refrigerator must be placed where breezes may reach it, and it should be anchored so that it will not blow away. An iceless refrigerator may be made from a rectangular frame of wood, to which heavy canton flannel is buttoned or tacked. On the top of this should be placed a pan of water with strips of cloth extending from the water to the covering of the frame. This will conduct the water from the pan out onto the cloth. The number of strips of cloth regulate the rapidity with which the water is carried to the sides of the refrigerator. The food is set inside (Fig. 58.) The refrigerator should be placed in a shady spot where the breezes can strike it. Iceless refrigerators must be kept clean, and the covering of cloth should be washed occasionally. [Illustration: FIG. 59. Device for cooling food.] Some iceless refrigerators are enclosed in a chimney-like closet built on the house, the cold air coming in at the bottom and being drawn upward by the natural draft of the chimney-like structures. This draft hastens the evaporation of the water. Such refrigerators are expensive and less satisfactory than ice ones. =126. Small Cooler.= A few things may be kept cool, like a bottle of milk and a small dish of butter, by setting them in a shallow pan of water and covering them with a flannel cloth which comes down into the water and so remains moist (Fig. 59). The evaporation of the water from the flannel cools the food somewhat below the temperature of the surrounding air. =127. Covered Pail.= Another device is a metal pail (Fig. 60) covered with a heavy layer of cloth and a pan set on top of the cover. Into the pan is put some water and strips of cloth to conduct out the water. This may be hung in the kitchen window if it is shaded. The cover and the strips must be secured so that they will not blow off. [Illustration: FIG. 60. Covered pail for cooling food.] =128. Unglazed Earthenware.= Unglazed earthenware pitchers and jugs make excellent water coolers. The water is put in them, and, as the container is porous, a small amount filters thru the earthenware, and, as it reaches the surface and air, it evaporates, cooling the remaining water. =129. Cooling with Running Water.= A very little stream of water from a faucet will cool the baby's milk and keep it from souring. The bottle should be set in a pan of water which is constantly renewed by the small stream running from the faucet. (Fig. 61.) This method of cooling should be used only in homes supplied with water from a spring or in an emergency. Under most circumstances, it is too extravagant a method of keeping food to be recommended. In cities it should be prohibited because it might cause too great a drain on the city water supply. [Illustration: FIG. 61. Cooling with running water.] A larger device used for cooling milk is a tank of running water (Figs. 61-_a_-_b_). The water flowing thru this tank commonly flows into another tank used for the watering of stock. Cans with inverted covers like those illustrated are waterproof, because the air is caught inside them so that it cannot get out for the water to replace it. It does not require a large stream of water to renew that in the tank and keep it cool. The efficiency of this device depends entirely upon having a supply of cold water available. [Illustration: FIG. 61-_a_. Cross-section of cooling tank.] =130. Refrigerating Plants.= Refrigerating plants are sometimes installed in private dwellings. These consist of a motor and a machine for compressing gas, a chamber which is to be cooled, and sometimes coils of pipe containing brine. When the gas--for example, ammonia or carbon dioxide--is compressed, it heats the pump which compresses it. That is, when a liquid or gas is being compressed, it gives up heat. When a liquid or gas expands, it takes heat from somewhere. In refrigerating plants, the expanding gas is made to take the heat either directly from the refrigerator or storeroom, or from brine which is then used for cooling the refrigerator or room. Refrigerating plants require the same care as pumps, motors and refrigerators. [Illustration: FIG. 61-_b_. Cooling tank.] =131. Water Coolers.= Since ice is not always pure, it is necessary to use cooling devices which do not permit it to come into direct contact with the water. One type of water cooler consists of a can set in an ice box with a pipe leading to the outside so that the box does not have to be opened every time that water is wanted (Fig. 62). This can should be made so that it may be removed, washed and scalded. Another cooler consists of a tank or water bottle placed on the outside of a refrigerator or box of ice with a pipe leading thru the refrigerator or box of ice (Fig. 63). The water flowing thru the pipe is cooled. The pipe ends at the outside of the ice box with a faucet to let out the water. This cooler cools only the water flowing into the pipe instead of the entire tank of water. [Illustration: FIG. 62. Water cooler containing water tank.] [Illustration: FIG. 63. Sectional view of water cooler.] =132. Care of Water Coolers.= Put only clean, pure water into the coolers, and keep them clean by flushing them out occasionally with boiling water. CHAPTER XVIII FANS AND VENTILATORS =133. Selecting a Fan.= With the coming of electricity into the home, fans have become practical home devices. Do not buy a fan or other electrical device without ascertaining whether the current is direct or alternating, and what voltage is needed to run it. Most city homes are now supplied with current ranging between 105 and 115 volts, so most fans are made for that. Fans will run on a small wire like that used for lighting. [Illustration: FIG. 64. Blower.] [Illustration: FIG. 65. Stationary fan.] =134. The Construction of the Fan in Common Use.= A motor turns the fan. There is a regulator on some fans, so that they can be run at different rates of speed. Oil cups are important parts of fans. When a new fan is purchased, these cups are full of oil. The oil will last for many months, but if an old fan heats and sparks while being run, have an electrician examine it to see if all the parts are in order and there is a supply of oil. Figs. 64, 65 and 66 show types of fans in common use. [Illustration: FIG. 66. Movable electric fan.] [Illustration: FIG. 67. Stove ventilator.] =135. Ventilator.= A hood (Fig. 67) with a pipe leading into the chimney, placed over a cook stove, will conduct hot air and steam up the chimney. This is due to the fact that warm air rises and cold air comes in to take its place. An open skylight over a cook stove, also, makes an excellent ventilator and cooling device for kitchens. QUESTIONS FOR PART IV 1. How may refrigerators be judged for efficiency? 2. What are the essentials of a good refrigerator? 3. How is an iceless refrigerator cooled? Under what conditions is it useful? 4. What may be the matter with an electric fan when it heats and sparks? PART V WATER SUPPLY AND SEWAGE DISPOSAL. CHAPTER XIX PUMPS AND WATER FILTERS =136. Suction Pumps.= A pump is a device for lifting water. The pumps in common use work on the principle that water which is under the pressure of air will rise to fill a vacuum or a partial vacuum. The pump is composed of a combination of valves and a piston for forcing the air out of the pipe to allow the water from below to be forced into it. A valve catches the water as it starts to flow back. The weight of the water holds the valve closed. An outlet above the piston permits the water to flow into a tank or sink when the piston is again lifted to make a new vacuum and draw more water (Fig. 68). =137. Care of Pumps.= The leather or material forming the piston must be kept moist, or it will shrink and leak. When it becomes worn and old, it must be renewed. It is not a difficult task to put new packing on a small suction pump. To do this, remove the pin attaching the piston to the handle. Lift out the piston, unscrew the bolt which holds the leather packing in place; put on the new packing, and replace the bolt, piston and pin. Always pump with a regular, even stroke--a jerky one tends to wear the working parts of the pump. The cylinder and pipe containing water must not be allowed to freeze. There is usually a plug in the pipe which may be removed to let out the water when there is danger of freezing. A cracked cylinder or pipe will leak air and not raise water. [Illustration: FIG. 68. Suction pump.] [Illustration: FIG. 69. Force pump.] Keep the bearings for the handle well oiled. When the pump gets old, the cylinder becomes worn and leaks. It can sometimes be replaced with a new cylinder, or more packing must be put on the piston. =138. Force Pumps.= Force pumps are used on deep wells and in forcing water into storage tanks. They should be kept oiled; they should be operated with an even stroke, and the packing in them should be renewed if they leak air. In force pumps, the valves differ in their arrangement from suction pumps (Fig. 69). =139. Compressed-Air Pumps.= Compressed-air pumps consist of a tank for storing the compressed air--a pump to force air into the tank and cylinders equipped with valves. These act automatically. Whenever an outlet pipe is opened, the extra pressure of air from the storage tank raises the water from the well or cistern (Fig. 70). Air should be kept in the pressure tank. [Illustration: FIG. 70. Compressed-air pump system.] When this arrangement is used, open and close faucets slowly, not with a jerk. Fig. 70-_a_ shows plumbing where such a system is used. =140. Water Filters.= Water filters are devices for straining minute particles out of water. They are made of sand, charcoal or porcelain, kisselguhr and other materials. They are without value unless they are kept clean. A dirty filter is worse than none. Almost the only way to clean them is to sterilize them or put new material in them. Only with expert care can filters be made effective for removing disease germs. A dirty filter may prove a menace. Filters are valuable for removing coarse dirt from the water. [Illustration: FIG. 70-_a_. System of plumbing with compressed-air tank.] Filters on faucets should be cleaned or renewed every day. Large filters for rain water should be renewed every few months. CHAPTER XX PRESSURE TANKS; PLUMBING FIXTURES =141. Pressure Tanks.= A pressure tank is a device for storing water under pressure. It is usually placed in the basement of dwelling houses. =142. Construction of the Pressure Tank.= The tank is tight and strong, so that it will hold air and water under pressure. The tank originally has some air in it. When the water is pumped in, the air not being able to escape, is compressed. When there is a chance for water to escape from the tank which is connected to water pipes, the pressure of the compressed air on the water forces it to upstairs rooms and other points. To this tank is attached a pressure gage which indicates the amount of pressure; or, in other words, the amount of water in the tank, for when the water gets low, the pressure is reduced unless the air has escaped. A glass gage shows the height of water. Provision is made to let some air into the tank, for otherwise it may in time be all forced out of the tank or absorbed by the water. The water in a pressure tank may be used to pump water from a cistern into another tank. =143. Care of Pressure Tanks.= A pressure tank must not be pumped up to the extent that the pressure becomes greater than the strength of the tank. A safety valve is used in controlling the pressure. =144. Hot-Water Kitchen Tank.= A force pump is generally used for pumping water into kitchen tanks, except when water from another tank, such as a city reservoir, flows into it. [Illustration: FIG. 71. Instantaneous water heater.] =145. Instantaneous Water Heaters.= The instantaneous water heater (Fig. 71) is a device which heats water on its way to the outlet. It is composed of a heating unit and piping connected to the outlet pipes. In this type of heater, the pipes must always be kept full of water, and some device should be attached (Fig. 72) to the heater which will lower the heat as soon as, or before, the water reaches boiling temperature. This will prevent steam from forming, which might injure the system. [Illustration: FIG. 72. Device for heating water automatically.] =146. Heaters for Tanks.= Hot water is lighter than cold. A pipe from the bottom of the tank leads into the heater, passes thru the heating coils and up into the top of the tank (Figs. 73 and 74). Water from the tank circulates thru this pipe as the hot water rises and the cold water falls in the tank. As the heater is located on a level with the bottom of the tank, cold water seeking this level flows into the pipe and becomes heated (Fig. 76). [Illustration: FIG. 73. Force pump and boiler.] A booster is a device which keeps the water hot up to the faucet (Fig. 75). If there is a pilot on a gas water heater, be sure to use it. The burners should be cared for in the same way as on other heaters using the same fuel. Keep the tank full of water and the water free to circulate thru the pipes. Air-tight tanks may become so hot that steam is formed in large amounts. Tanks which are not connected with city water pipes may be fitted with safety valves which open when the pressure of steam inside the tank reaches a certain point, which is below the danger point. Should the pipes or tank freeze, do not start the fire in the heater, but thaw the pipes with applications of hot water or other means until the water can circulate in them. Electric heaters are usually incased in a waterproof covering and put in the center of the tank. Small electric heaters are in use for heating a glass or other small amount of water. These are called immersion heaters. =147. The Elevated Water Tank.= In rural homes, water is sometimes stored in an elevated tank. This is usually placed in the attic. It is frequently filled by means of a force pump connected with a windmill or gasoline engine. If there is no overflow to this tank, which there should be, it must be watched when being filled to prevent it from overflowing. It may be fitted with an automatic device similar to those used on the expansion tanks of hot-water furnaces or tanks to water closets for regulating the inflow of water. [Illustration: FIG. 74. Water heater and tank.] [Illustration: FIG. 75. Booster for hot water.] =148. Faucets.= Faucets are made in different patterns, but they need practically the same care (Fig. 77). The leather, or rubber, washer in a faucet must be renewed when it leaks. To renew the washer, unscrew the cap from the faucet. Remove the valve. Take off the ring of packing. Replace with a new ring, and put the faucet together again. The only tools needed for this repair work are a wrench and a screwdriver. Shut off the water from the pipe to the faucet before beginning to repair a leaking faucet. [Illustration: FIG. 76. Water tank and heater.] =149. Valves.= Valves are constructed much like faucets. They, too, sometimes need repacking. Follow the directions for repacking of faucet (Fig. 78). [Illustration: FIG. 77. Faucet showing parts.] [Illustration: FIG. 78. Radiator valve.] =150. Overflows.= Keep overflows clean. When the plug and overflow are combined, as they sometimes are, lift out the cylinder forming the plug and overflow and wash it. When it fails to hold water in the tub or basin, it may need a new washer on the lower part. This may be replaced very easily. Fig. 79 shows one type of overflow. [Illustration: FIG. 79. Cross-section of overflow on bath-tub.] [Illustration: FIG. 80. Plumber's pump.] It is more difficult to keep other overflows clean. They may be flushed or cleaned with a brush attached to a wire. =151. Traps for Bath Tubs and Basins.= Dirt and slime collects in traps. Clean them frequently. Always leave clean water in the traps of bathroom fixtures and sinks. Only matter quickly soluble in water should pass into drain pipes. Keep matches, hair, sweepings, rags, fruit skins and stones out of the fixtures. If the drain from a basin, sink or tub fails to carry away the water, the stoppage may be removed with a small plumber's pump (Fig. 80). This is a small rubber cone-like device which is placed over the outlet to the drain and moved up and down so that it sucks air, water and whatever may be movable up the pipe. CHAPTER XXI CESSPOOLS, SEPTIC TANKS AND CITY SEWER SYSTEMS =152. Relative Value of Cesspool and Septic Tank.= Sewer pipes for private water systems usually drain into cesspools or septic tanks (Figs. 81, and 81-_a_). The waste goes thru a process of decomposition before passing out into the soil. Sewage should both liquify and oxidize before entering into the soil. Oxidation purifies liquid sewage so that it is not contaminating. If oxidation is not brought about in the cesspool or septic tank, sewage, which is fresh, should be run onto the surface of the ground where the air and bacteria for oxidation can be found. Cesspools are not as good as septic tanks because there is not the surety of sewage being oxidized in them, as there is in the septic tank. They lack oxidizing chambers. [Illustration: FIG. 81. Septic tank and tile.] Unoxidized liquid sewage being in a condition to flow readily thru the earth, is more dangerous than fresh sewage because it is more likely to seep into wells. [Illustration: FIG. 81-_a_. Septic tank.] =153. Construction of the Septic Tank.= The septic tank is composed of two chambers--one the liquefying chamber and the other the oxidizing chamber. Both are water-tight (Fig. 82). The fresh sewage comes into the liquefying chamber thru a pipe placed near the top of the tank. Here it stands and liquefies, which is a process of decomposition. The solids fall to the bottom as they come into this chamber, and the liquid formed rises to the top and flows into the oxidizing chamber (_B_, Fig. 82), when it reaches a point a little below the height of the inlet pipe. It either does this by flowing over a partition or thru a pipe leading from one compartment to the other. The second compartment is usually slightly smaller than the first. Here the sewage is held until the process of oxidation takes place, which renders it less dangerous. When the sewage in the second chamber reaches a certain height, it siphons out into a tile which distributes it over a plot of ground (Fig. 81). Various kinds of siphons are used, the important feature of them being that they are constructed so that they drain the tank often enough to remove the oxidized sewage and not so often as to remove it before it has become oxidized. =154. The Size of Tank.= Because the liquid must be drained from the tank at certain intervals, it is important that the size of the tank be adapted to the amount of waste it will receive. [Illustration: FIG. 82. Details of septic tank.] Septic tanks are kept warm by the heat generated in the oxidizing process, which is simply slow burning of the waste, so that they rarely freeze in winter. Run waste water from the kitchen sink and laundry tubs into a catch basin to collect the grease from the water, as grease or oil on the surface of the sewage of a tank will stop the action of the microbes in the tank by smothering them. When too much grease does get into it, the tank must be thoroly cleaned. Do not use lye, chloride of lime, carbolic acid and other chemicals in drains and septic tanks. Disinfectants of this type put into pipes leading to a septic tank will kill the useful bacteria which decompose the sewage. Use clear boiling water to clean the pipes. This will be cooled by the time it reaches the tank so that it will not kill the useful bacteria. Insoluble mineral matter gradually accumulates in septic tanks, so that they must be cleaned once every few years. Care will postpone the times for cleaning. Do not wash vegetables with much earth adhering to them in sinks leading to cesspools or septic tanks. Shake or rinse off the dirt before washing them. =155. Disposal of Waste in Cities.= In some cities, householders are required by law to have catch basins connected to their sewer systems to remove leaves and dirt from storm water and grease from kitchen sinks and laundry tubs. The laws of other cities forbid the use of catch basins, but urge householders to help care for the city sewer system by not putting grease into sewer pipes. Strong chemicals should not be put into the pipes. Use only boiling water in cleaning pipes. Do not wash vegetables on which there is much loose dirt in sinks. CHAPTER XXII WATER CLOSETS =156. Construction of Water Closets.= The water closet is a device for the disposal of excrement. The closet includes a tank of water for flushing the waste from the bowl to the sewer or waste pipe. Between the bowl and the waste pipe is a device called a trap which holds water and seals the end of the waste pipe so that gases from the sewer or the septic tank cannot come into the house. (Fig. 83-_a_.) The bowl of the newer models of water closets have the trap as a part of the bowl, which saves joints and connections likely to catch dirt and stop up the trap (Fig. 83). The water coming from the flushing tank is carried around the bowl so that it is flushed clean by the swift-flowing water. When the water reaches the bottom of the bowl, it rushes upward a few inches before it can turn downward to the waste pipe. This it does while flowing rapidly and cleansing the bowl; when the tank empties, water collects in the bowl to the level, where it can flow down the waste pipe (Fig. 83). As soon as all the water above this level has gone down the pipe, the remainder stays in the bowl, forming the seal until the next time the bowl is flushed. Fig. 83-_a_ shows two kinds of traps. If water flows at too rapid a rate thru the trap of the bowl, as in cases when there is too much pressure on the water or the tank is set too high so that gravity gives it too much force, or if an excessive suction is produced in the drain pipe, all the water may run out of the bowl, leaving the trap unsealed. The remedy for this is a change in the flushing tank or in its position. [Illustration: FIG. 83. Section of water closet.] =157. Siphoning the Trap.= If rags or shreds of material are dropped into the bowl and lodge in the trap, only a part of them going over into the waste pipe, they may siphon the water, sealing the trap, over into the waste pipe. There was more difficulty of this sort with traps of older models than with the newer types. Always leave clean water in the trap. [Illustration: FIG. 83-_a_. Types of traps.] =158. The Flushing Tank.= The flushing tank (Fig. 84) is a reservoir to hold sufficient water to cleanse the bowl. In one type of tank, water is retained in the tank by a plug held in place by the weight of the water in the tank. By a lever on the outside of the tank, this plug is lifted when the bowl is to be flushed, and it stays open until all the water flows out of the tank. When the water has all left the tank, the plug falls back into the hole and fresh water flowing into the tank holds it in place, as there is nothing in the pipe below to make it float upward. Working at the same time with the plug is a valve in the water supply pipe, attached to a large hollow float. The valve opens as the water flows out of the tank, and closes as the tank is filled. This valve is operated by the float floating on the surface of the water. As the water flows out of the tank, the float falls, opening the valve and letting in water. As the tank fills, the float rises to the top of the tank and shuts off the valve. If the float catches so that it fails to rise and fall, or becomes disconnected from the valve, it will not operate the valve. There is an overflow pipe in the tank which carries off all water rising above a certain level in the tank. This prevents the tank from overflowing when the valve fails to turn. [Illustration: FIG. 84. Diagram of flushing tank.] =159. Repairing the Flushing Tank.= When the water continues to flow into the tank, take off the cover of the tank and examine the valve and ball to see why they are not working properly. If disconnected or caught, remedy the trouble. If the plug fails to stop the flow of water out of the tank, water will also continue to flow into the tank. To remedy this temporarily, push the plug down over the outlet and also note the reason why it has not fallen back automatically. If worn, it may have to be replaced with a new one. There should be a valve to close the pipe to the tank. With this valve, much water can be saved in time of trouble, and greater convenience may be had in remedying difficulties with the devices inside the tank. QUESTIONS FOR PART V 1. How does a pump lift water from a well? 2. How do pumps differ in construction? 3. What care should be given a pump? 4. When is a water filter useful? When dangerous? 5. What is a pressure tank? How does it operate? 6. Describe two kinds of water heaters. What precautions should be taken with each kind of heater? 7. Describe a water faucet. Try to replace an old washer with a new one. 8. Have you ever cleaned the overflow to a tub or basin? Should they be cleaned? 9. What are traps? What may cause them to fail to work? 10. How would you select a good trap? How would you clean it? 11. Describe the construction of a septic tank. What is the action that takes place in a septic tank? What care should be given to it? 12. Examine the tank to a water closet. How does it operate? PART VI LAUNDRY EQUIPMENT. CHAPTER XXIII WASHING MACHINES =160. Kinds of Washing Machines.= Washing machines are tools to help remove dirt from clothes either by friction or by forcing water thru them. They are known by such names as suction, cylinder, rotary, oscillating, locomotive and centrifugal machines. These names are used differently by various authorities. [Illustration: FIG. 85. Washer to place in boiler.] [Illustration: FIG. 86. Another type of washer for boiler.] Washing machines may be attached to any kind of motor, or they may be manipulated by hand. =161. Suction Machines.= The suction machines are made to force water thru the clothes (Figs. 85 and 86). Some are operated by hand, some by mechanical power, and some are funnel-shaped devices to be placed in boilers. Hand or mechanical suction machines have cones or funnels which are pushed down onto the clothes and then suddenly lifted, causing suction which draws out the dirt previously loosened by the moisture and pressure. Mechanical devices attached to the top are sometimes used to raise and lower the funnels (Figs. 87 and 87-_a_). [Illustration: FIG. 87. Suction washer.] The suction washers for use in boilers are placed funnel side down. By means of these, the steam forming in the bottom of the boiler forces the water thru the clothes. Distribute the clothes evenly about the washer. Fill the boiler with water and add shaved soap. When set over a fire, the steam forming at the bottom raises the water in the funnel to the top and pushes it out thru the clothes, or raises the funnel and makes it beat upon the clothes. [Illustration: FIG. 87-_a_. Washing machine.] Other machines combine the two methods of washing--forcing water thru clothes and rubbing them at the same time. =162. Cylinder Washers.= Cylinder washers contain a perforated barrel-like device, into which the clothes are placed (Fig. 88). This cylinder has cleats on the inside to raise the clothes as the cylinder turns and drop them when they reach the highest point in it, back into the water, thus pounding water thru them and rubbing them against the side of the cylinder as they are raised. This is the type used in most laundries. A cylinder turned by an electric motor is made which can be placed in the stationary wash tub in small apartments. The tub then serves as the outer part of the washing machine. [Illustration: FIG. 88. Cylinder washer.] =163. Rotary Washers.= In the rotary, or milk-stool, type of washer, sometimes called "Dolly" (Fig. 89), the stool-like contrivance which presses against the clothes must be turned half-way around in one direction, and then back the other way, to prevent twisting, tearing or otherwise injuring the clothes. The clothes are thus rubbed against the corrugated sides and bottom of the machine, and thru the water. Never put too many clothes in this type of machine because too tight packing causes the machine to tear them. [Illustration: FIG. 89. Rotary washer.] =164. Machine with an Oscillating Washing Device.= This washer contains an oscillating device for rubbing the clothes over the corrugated bottom. The rubbing device is also corrugated and is put on top of the clothes and moved backward and forward, thus rubbing them between two wash-boards (Fig. 90). [Illustration: FIG. 90. Oscillating washing machine.] =165. Oscillating Washers.= Oscillating washers have corrugated bottoms. The clothes are put into the machine with the wash water. The washer rocks, throwing the clothes backward and forward thru the water, loosening and squeezing out the dirt. This washer works easiest when the machine is well filled with water. =166. Locomotive Washer.= The locomotive washer (Fig. 91) slides backward and forward, thus churning the water and clothes. It is operated only by power. A heating unit, usually gas, in the base of the machine keeps the water hot. [Illustration: FIG. 91. Locomotive washing machine.] =167. Centrifugal Washer.= A centrifugal washer (Fig. 91-_a_) contains a perforated basket which whirls in the water contained in the machine. The clothes are placed in the basket, rolled into bundles. The rapid whirling thru the water removes the dirt from the clothes. [Illustration: FIG. 91-_a_. Centrifugal washing machine.] =168. Care of Washers.= The bearings and other motor parts of a washing machine should be kept oiled. Keep belts tight. Run the machine about ten minutes each while the clothes are in the first wash water and the two sudsy waters, and five minutes each for the hot and the cold rinse waters. Blueing had better be done in a tub. Wooden machines must dry out occasionally, or else they get slimy. Do not let them get dry enough to crack. Air the machines after use. Cover them when not in use to keep them clean. When a gasoline engine is used in operating a washing machine, it must be set so that the belt will pull straight on the pulley wheel of the machine. The belt should be tight enough to prevent slipping. Stationary washers are set to avoid such troubles, but those which are moved from place to place must be adjusted by the operator. The pulleys must be adjusted to turn at the number of revolutions per minute directed for the washer used. This usually does not exceed 150 revolutions of the motor wheel per minute. Water motors must receive more than 25 pounds of water pressure to operate a washing machine. CHAPTER XXIV WRINGERS =169. Roller Wringer.= The kind of wringer in most general use is the one made of two rollers rotating in opposite directions, the clothes being drawn in between the two by friction, and the water pressed out. (See Fig. 88.) The rollers in modern wringers are made of a composition of rubber. They are adjusted so that they may be brought close together or moved apart. When wringing thin articles, the rollers should be set close together, and when wringing heavy articles, they should be set far apart. This adjustment of the wringer helps to do better work and save wear and tear on clothing and wringer. =170. Care of Wringers.= The bearings should be kept oiled, but oil must be kept off the rollers, as it rots them. Keep the rollers washed clean. Soap and water will remove the dirt which collects on them. If this does not clean them, wipe the rollers in a weak solution of ammonia. If the rollers get badly stained, wipe them with a cloth dipped in kerosene. Wash this off immediately, as kerosene dissolves the rubber as well as the dirt. Never leave a wringer with the pressure on the rollers when not in use. The pressure is either adjusted by thumb-screws or by a clamp. Loosen these when thru with the wringer. =171. Centrifugal Wringer, or Dryer.= The centrifugal wringer, or dryer, consists of a tub, inside of which is a smaller tub with perforated sides. There is a drain at the bottom of the outside tub. The wringer is attached to a device for making the inside tub turn rapidly. The power used is either hand or machine (Fig. 92). [Illustration: FIG. 92. Washer and dryer.] The rapid turning of the inner tub for three minutes throws the clothing and water in them to the outside of the revolving center. This tub being perforated, lets the water thru while retaining the clothing. Thus, the clothes are wrung as dry as in a wringer of the roller type. If the machine is turned a longer time, the clothes can be wrung entirely dry. =172. Care of the Machine.= When loading centrifugal wringers, put the heavy pieces at the bottom of the basket. Put articles in basket in bunches, and pack fairly tight. Do not have loose ends hanging out. Fold sleeves into garments. Load the basket full if there are clothes enough. A cover helps to hold the clothes in place. Load so that it runs even and does not wobble. Never hold your hand on the extractor after it has started. =173. Combination Washer and Wringer.= The centrifugal washer and wringer combined is built so that the basket can be lowered into a tub of water. The clothes rotating in water are washed. After this is accomplished, the cylinder is raised, and, when rotated, serves as a wringer of the centrifugal type. Load the washer with fewer clothes than for wringing. Roll each garment into a bunch before putting it into the washer. Centrifugal wringers are used also as dry-cleaning machines. For this use, they should be operated out of doors and at a slower speed than when water is used. Friction heats gasoline, causing it to evaporate rapidly. The friction between clothing, tub and gasoline when turned at a high speed may produce a spark which will ignite the gasoline. CHAPTER XXV MANGLES AND IRONS =174. Construction of Mangles.= Mangles are made of rollers rotating in the same direction, one moving faster than the other, set close together so that they press the clothes smooth, or they consist of one roller rotating over a stationary surface called a shoe (Fig. 93). [Illustration: FIG. 93. Mangle.] =175. Cold Mangles.= When no heater is attached to the shoe or one roller, the mangle is a cold mangle. It smoothes clothes, but does not do as good work as a heated mangle. There is almost nothing about mangles to get out of order. The only caution necessary is to keep the bearings oiled, have guards so as not to catch hands in the power machines, and loosen the roller so that it is not pressed onto any surface when not in use. =176. Heated Mangles.= The heated mangles have the heat applied to one of the rollers or to the shoe. They may be used cold. The heat may come from gasoline, gas, electricity or kerosene. The management of the heating unit is the same as for a stove using any of these fuels. The same care should be taken of the burners as of stove burners. =177. Care and Use of Mangles.= (1) Have the clothes damp before putting them thru the mangle. (2) Protect the mangle from dust at all times. (3) See that belts are properly adjusted on mangles. (4) The covering put on mangle rollers must be of even thickness, or they will not do good work. (5) Do not mangle starched garments, or those on which are many or large buttons. (6) Wax the steel roller while it is warm, and wipe it clean with a cloth (Fig. 94). (7) Always remove pressure when not using mangles. [Illustration: FIG. 94. Waxing roller of mangle.] =178. Flat, or Sadirons.= Irons are of two kinds--those which must be heated on a stove, and the self-heating ones. The weight of the iron governs the amount of heat it will absorb, and this is the amount that it will give up in ironing. Heat is needed to dry clothes, and as the cloth can be smoothed best when damp, but will wrinkle again unless dried while smooth, heat is essential to the ironing process. The weight of the iron helps in the smoothing process. The heavy irons do the best grade of work, but are harder to manipulate. The most satisfactory iron for a woman of average strength to manage weighs six to eight pounds. The following points should be remembered in using the iron: (1) Rub rusty irons with bees'-wax or paraffine and wipe with a cloth. (2) Wash irons frequently, and rub with sand soap, Dutch cleanser, ashes or salt to polish them. (3) Rinse in boiling water and wipe dry. Warm on the stove and rub with bees'-wax, and set away. (4) Before using, wipe with a cloth. (5) Do not wash electric irons--rub with wax or paraffine. Wipe off with a clean cloth. (6) It has been found by tests that the time required in heating the self-heating iron usually equals the time required for the iron to cool after the heating has been stopped, but that an iron cools faster on wet, heavy cloth than on thin, dry cloth. [Illustration: FIG. 95. Parts of electric iron.] =179. Charcoal Irons.= Charcoal is no longer used for heating irons. It makes too much dirt. Difficulty is found, also, in keeping charcoal irons at a constant temperature. =180. Electric Irons.= An electric iron (Fig. 95) is made up of a heavy nickel-plated base, a block of iron which holds the heat, and a heating unit of small wires, or a plate, thru which the current passes, meeting resistance. Since resistance against the flow of an electric current produces heat, the iron is heated. It has a handle and shell covering the heating unit to protect the hand and prevent loss of heat thru the top. Getting electric irons too hot injures the heating unit, as electricity can heat metals so hot that they melt. Excessive heat may disconnect the circuit by burning the wires in the iron, or it may melt the metal so as to form a short circuit. Always follow exactly the directions for connecting and disconnecting the iron with the current. Some say disconnect at the plug between iron and cord, or others the plug placed near the socket (Fig. 95-_a_). The weakest part in irons is likely to be in the attachment plug. When connecting the plug to the iron, be sure to get it back in place each time. A plug that does not fit well into place may cause sparking and develop sufficient heat to burn off the insulation from the cord, if not the fuses of the system to which the iron is attached. Never attach an iron to a lighting system without making sure that the iron is made to be operated on the voltage of the current to which is is connected. If it is not the same, attaching the iron may either burn out the fuses of the lighting system, or ruin the iron. [Illustration: FIG. 95-_a_. Connecting plug for electric attachment.] Operate the iron at a good temperature for ironing, and take care to keep it from getting hotter than is required. =181. Gas Irons.= Gas irons are attached to a tube leading from a gas pipe. There is a burner inside the iron which is generally a straight rod with perforations in it for the escape of the mixture of gas and air. The air mixes with the gas at a point near where the gas pipe enters the iron. The principle of heating an iron is the same as the heating of a gas stove (Fig. 96). The burner in the iron is lighted, and as soon as it has heated the iron, the ironing can proceed. The only difficulties encountered in using this kind of an iron are that a quick, jerky stroke may blow out the flame, and if the work is being done in a drafty place, the iron may not heat evenly. These difficulties can be overcome, however. The person using the iron can learn to use a stroke which will be rapid and still not put out the flame. The ironing board may be protected from drafts. A gas iron is safe and practical. It is easily controlled by the valve admitting the gas. =182. Acetylene Irons.= Acetylene irons are similar to gas irons, the difference in them being in the construction of the burner. =183. Alcohol Irons.= Alcohol irons have a tank attached to them which holds about a half pint of alcohol. This iron is similar to the gasoline iron shown in Fig. 97. Some alcohol is turned into the iron, and then the valve is closed. This alcohol is lighted with a match and used to heat the generator in the iron so that it will be hot enough to change the alcohol into vapor. As soon as this is done, the alcohol is again turned on and lighted. The burners in these irons should be kept free from dirt. Like gas irons, they should be used with a stroke which will not put out the fire. They cannot be operated in a strong draft. The heat in them can be regulated by the valve which controls the flow of alcohol. [Illustration: FIG. 96. Gas iron.] [Illustration: FIG. 97. Alcohol iron.] =184. Gasoline Irons.= There are two kinds of gasoline irons. In one the tank is a part of the iron (Fig. 97), and in the other the tank is many feet away, where the gasoline is changed to gas by a cold-process gasoline gas machine and connected with the iron by a flexible tube. These latter operate like other gas irons. Gasoline irons with the tank attached are operated the same as alcohol irons. The danger in these irons comes in the tanks becoming overheated. Alcohol is used first to heat the generator because it will not smoke the iron. The gasoline, when lighted, should burn with a blue flame. The tank should be one which has been tested to stand a high gas pressure, as the gasoline in the tank may become heated and vaporize. The gas so formed must not escape into the room, where it might be ignited by a spark. If not allowed to escape, it exerts considerable pressure inside the tank. If the pressure becomes too great, it will break the tank, escape and ignite from the flame in the iron. The opening for filling must always be kept closed when the iron is in use. QUESTIONS FOR PART VI 1. Explain the construction of various types of washing machines. What are the advantages of each? 2. What care should a roller wringer receive? 3. How does a centrifugal wringer dry clothes? 4. How does a mangle differ from a wringer? 5. What is the difference in care that should be given to a plain flat iron and an electric iron? PART VII HOUSE-CLEANING EQUIPMENT CHAPTER XXVI VACUUM CLEANERS AND CLEANING TOOLS =185. Principle Upon Which Vacuum Cleaner Works.= The principle of a vacuum cleaner is that, thru suction, dust and dirt are drawn from the floor or other surfaces into some container. If the power of the cleaner is sufficient, it may pick up anything--but cleaners having a moderate amount of power are somewhat more discriminating. They do, however, remove the fine, greasy dirt that brooms, brushes and carpet sweepers fail to get. The coarser dirt and ravelings may be taken up by a carpet sweeper, with a brush, or picked up by hand. The brush is combined with the cleaner in many machines (Fig. 98). [Illustration: FIG. 98. Brush and vacuum cleaner combined.] =186. Different Kinds of Vacuum Cleaners.= There are cleaners with bellows, pumps or fans to draw in air and dirt. The ones with bellows in them work on the principle of a bellows which is reversed so that when the air is drawn in, it brings the dirt with it. The other kind works with a fan which draws or sucks air from the floor thru a nozzle into the machine. In the machine, the dust is filtered out of the air and collected in a pan. The machines with fans in them are mostly power machines, as the fan must revolve very rapidly. The hand machines are mostly of the pump and bellows types. Some are combined with the carpet sweeper, making two machines in one. With this device once going over the floor is sufficient for removing both coarse and fine dirt. The hand machines do not have as much power of suction as the power machines, but they do very satisfactory work. They are more effective than a carpet sweeper in removing dirt, but they do not get as much of it as the stationary cleaner. Removing the sharp grit from rugs and carpets lengthens the life of them so that the more grit a cleaner can remove without tearing the carpet, the more valuable it is. When the pump type is being used, the piston is drawn up, drawing with it air and the dirt which is present at the point from which the air comes. A cloth filters out the dust. The air escapes from the machine before the piston is lowered to draw in more air and dirt. If this were not true, the dust would be forced back as the piston was lowered. =187. Nozzle of Vacuum Cleaner.= The nozzle, or point of entry of air into the machine, is an important part of a vacuum cleaner. This is constructed so that it fits the surface from which the dirt is to be drawn, insuring the drawing up of dust as well as air. The dirt is drawn from only a few square inches of surface at one time. The thoroness and rapidity with which the dirt is removed depends upon the strength of the suction or the power of the machine. Thus, hand machines may have to be moved over a surface several times if it is very dirty in order to get all the dirt. Plain solid nozzles work best on carpets and other surfaces of similar kind. They are not effective on hard floors, but this is not essential, as dirt can easily be removed from smooth surfaces with a brush. =188. Cautions in Using Vacuum Cleaners.= The difficulties to be met with in vacuum cleaners are leaks. First of all, the machine must be fitted together perfectly; if not, the dust drawn into the machine escapes into the air of the room instead of into the collection pan or chamber. Machines are made air-tight, but to be cleaned, they must be taken apart. In putting them together, the housekeeper must take pains to fit them together perfectly. Never neglect to empty the dust chamber. Keep the machine properly oiled. A punctured bellows or a leaky dust strainer will cause dust to escape after being drawn into the machine. These have to be remedied with new parts. Some machines leak because of improper manipulation, such as a too-fast or too-jerky motion in operating them. The directions for each machine tell how to use it--such directions cannot be given here because they differ so much. When the pan has become over-full of dirt, the machine will necessarily throw out dust as well as air. Letting the machine get over-full of dust may ruin the machine by making some part leak continuously. [Illustration: FIG. 99. Electric vacuum cleaner.] =189. Difference Between Hand and Power Cleaners.= Power machines differ from hand ones in that they are run by motor power (Figs. 99 and 99-a). They may have larger collecting chambers and may be stationary in the cellar and connected to the rooms by long pipes (Fig. 100). They must likewise not be over-full of dust. They must be kept properly adjusted. As the operation of the mechanism shakes the machine, it may loosen screws and nuts, so they must be kept tightened. The motor must also be kept in order. The motors used for vacuum cleaners are the same as those used on other power devices. They may be small electric motors, forming a part of the machine, or large motors which operate several machines. In any case, they must be given the same care as any other motor of the same type. (See Chapter XXXVIII.) If they become overheated, they will not work well. They must be kept lubricated to avoid friction, and they must be kept properly adjusted. Fig. 100-a shows a number of different attachments for vacuum cleaners. [Illustration: FIG. 99-_a_. Electric vacuum cleaner, showing parts.] =190. Carpet Sweeper.= A carpet sweeper is a combination of brush and dust pan. The advantage of this device is that the dust is gathered into the machine as the brush rotates, due to the action of the wheels on which the machine moves. The dust is collected into pans at each side of the brush; these are covered so that the dust does not fly into the air as much as otherwise would be the case (Fig. 101). [Illustration: FIG. 100. Stationary vacuum cleaner.] [Illustration: FIG. 100-_a_. Nozzles for vacuum cleaner.] [Illustration: FIG. 101. Section of carpet sweeper.] Oil the sweeper regularly about once a month by putting one drop of oil on the ball bearing on the hub of each wheel. Failure to oil carpet sweepers causes them to wear out quickly, to squeak, and to run hard. More oil than is needed only gathers dust and gums the sweeper. Empty the sweeper (Fig. 102) each time it is used, even during the sweeping if necessary. Don't fill it to overflowing. Always open the pans by pressing on the dump levers, not by taking hold of the pans. Don't let the brush get tangled with hair, ravelings, etc. Take it out occasionally and clean it (Figs. 103 and 103-_a_). Cut along between the spiral rows of bristles with a sharp knife or shears, and the ravelings and hairs can be picked or combed out easily without injuring the brush (Fig. 104). Never try to pull them off whole. Also remove any accumulation of dirt or ravelings which catch in the wheels or bearings. Don't let dirt collect in any part of the machine. Keep it clean. Good sweepers work best without extreme pressure on the handle. Never put oil, water or any liquid on the bristles. Don't keep a sweeper on a warm-air register--it takes the life out of the bristles. [Illustration: FIG. 102. Emptying sweeper.] [Illustration: FIG. 103. Releasing brush in sweeper.] [Illustration: FIG. 103-_a_. Details of construction of carpet sweeper.] [Illustration: FIG. 104. Cut ravelings from brush.] [Illustration: FIG. 105. Mop wringer.] [Illustration: FIG. 106. Another type of mop wringer.] =191. Mop Wringers.= There are two kinds of mop wringers to attach to pails. One is made of two flat surfaces which, when pressed together with the mop between (Fig. 105), squeeze the water out of it, and the other is made of two wringer rollers which, when brought together by a lever after the mop is put between them, rotate as the mop is pulled upward and wring out the water (Fig. 106). QUESTIONS FOR PART VII 1. How do vacuum cleaners pick up dust? 2. Describe some type of vacuum cleaner. 3. What care should be given a vacuum cleaner? 4. Tell how to clean a carpet sweeper. PART VIII DEVICES FOR PREPARATION AND CONSERVATION OF FOOD CHAPTER XXVII POTS, PANS, AND OTHER DEVICES =192. Materials from Which Utensils Are Made.= Since there is considerable choice in utensils made from different materials, the housekeeper may like to know something about these materials and about their care, and the effect of acids and alkalis upon them. Russia iron is one of the older materials for pots and pans, and it still holds a place in cookery, for it makes bread, loaf cake and cooky pans, which give to the food a thin, brown crust, due, undoubtedly, to the way in which it conducts heat. (See tables on page 158.) Tinned metal, which is well tempered, also, gives a thin, brown crust to layer cakes and pies. It makes good bread, loaf cake and cooky pans. Most of the cheap tin of today is iron-coated with very little tin. It does good work, but utensils made of it cannot be kept as well polished and as attractive in appearance as more heavily-tinned ones. Sheet iron, heavy steel and cast iron make the most popular frying pans. The heavy iron, holding heat as it does, makes a desirable brown coating on most foods without the danger of burning experienced with frying pans of other materials. This is due to specific heat and conductivity of the metal. Sheet-iron frying pans are useful in cooking foods which are wanted on short notice. The small-sized ones are most in use. =193. Aluminum Alloy.= Satisfactory frying pans are made from aluminum alloyed with other metal and cast. Real aluminum frying pans warp. They do not brown the food as well as materials that conduct heat less rapidly. =194. Cast-Iron Utensils.= Heavy cast iron finds special favor in the making of pot roasts, bread sticks and popovers. It browns the roast and makes a thick crust on bread sticks and popovers. All iron or tin utensils give better service as they become tempered with use. They must be kept dry in order to prevent rust. Do not use them for cooking acid foods. Granite, cast aluminum and Russia iron are the popular and satisfactory materials for roasting pans. =195. Earthenware.= For casseroles and bean pots, earthenware is a favorite material, the heavy glass gives equally good results. These materials are fitted for long, slow baking of food. They hold heat and conduct it to the food in such a way as to produce results which are difficult to duplicate with utensils of other materials. =196. Aluminum and Graniteware.= Stew pans are proving satisfactory when made of aluminum and of high-grade graniteware. An assortment of pans and double boilers containing utensils of each material gives the best results, as the granite is most desirable for cooking some acid and very salty food, while aluminum is light and satisfactory for preparing other dishes. Never let food stand in aluminum or granite dishes after being cooked. High-grade graniteware is not as readily affected by acids as the low, cheap grade. Enameled ware, which is roughened by a dilute solution of vinegar, is likely to contain substances injurious to health. Ink will not stain good enameled ware. Graniteware, like glass and earthenware, makes a heavy crust on the dishes being baked in them. Graniteware is metal, coated with a sort of glass. It must be treated like glass. It cracks when dropped. Never set it on a hot stove when empty or cold, as the heat of the stove will crack it as it will glass. When hot, do not set it on a cold marble or a metal table top, as sudden changes in temperature will crack it. With proper care, granite and enameled ware give good service. Graniteware is proving desirable for making utensils for use on electric stoves, the conductivity of the glass coating being so low, that it conducts the heat to the top of the pan slowly so the food in it gets to cooking quicker than in utensils made of most of the other materials. Aluminum is easily dented and warped by extreme heat. It is attacked by some strong acids and strong solutions of salt, soda and fruit juices. Aluminum may be hardened by the addition of six to seven per cent of copper so that it can be cast into utensils. Great care must be used not to use cleaning powders which contain strong alkalis for cleaning aluminum ware. It has light weight, and, when polished, is very attractive. With proper handling, it gives good service. =197. Mixing Spoons.= The wooden mixing spoon gives best results, as it does not mar the utensils, and the handle does not become as hot as metal. Hard maple or orange wood cut in a plain design makes the best spoon. Acids do not attack it. Plated silver or solid nickel spoons come next in usefulness. Softer metals wear off too fast to be satisfactory. Nickel is a most desirable material for household utensils, but is very expensive. It is not in common use in this country. TABLE SHOWING CONDUCTIVITY AND SPECIFIC HEAT OF METALS ====================+====================+========================== METAL | CONDUCTIVITY | SPECIFIC HEAT --------------------+--------------------+-------------------------- Silver | 1.00 | 0.0559 Copper | .74 | .0923 Aluminum | .48 | .2022 Tin | .15 | .0509 Iron | .12 | .1098 Glass | .0017 | Silicon | | .159 at 10° C. | | .2029 at 232° C. Nickel | | .1084 Tungsten | | .035 --------------------+--------------------+-------------------------- CHAPTER XXVIII PARERS, SEEDERS, GRINDERS, SLICERS, ETC. =198. Fruit and Vegetable Parers with Knives.= Parers of the type with a knife have a fork-like device on which the fruit or vegetable is held while a knife blade, attached to a shaft governed by a spring, is pressed against the fruit or vegetable so that it cuts off a thin layer of the surface. Both the fruit and the knife are caused to rotate so that the whole surface of the sphere-like object will be covered by the blade of the knife during one or more revolutions of the wheel which operates them (Fig. 107). The knife is guarded so that it cuts only a thin layer from the outer surface of the fruit or vegetable. After the knife has made the complete journey over the surface, a device attached to the machine pushes the object from the fork so that a new one may be put in its place. Parers are quite complicated devices, but they have been perfected so that they are not clumsy, and some can core apples, stone peaches and slice the fruit. [Illustration: FIG. 107. Parer.] Keep this type of machine dry so that it will not rust. Do not put it into water. Wipe off the blade of the knife and the fork when thru paring, so that the acid of the fruit will not discolor them and dull the knife. Keep the other parts dry and oiled. In time the spring governing the knife becomes weak and the machine will not do good work. This spring can be replaced on some machines. Parers are usually made of cheap material so that a new machine costs less than the repairs. =199. Parers Which Grate Off Skins.= Another type of parer is a grater-like device. This is used in larger establishments than the ordinary home, but is useful where there is much canning of hard fruits or vegetables to be done at home. It consists of a container, the inside of which is rough like a grater. The vegetables or apples are put into the container with water enough to float and separate them, and the whole is agitated so that the vegetables coming against the sides have the outer surface removed or grated off. The water acts as the medium for moving the vegetables and for removing the bits of skin from the sides of the parer. [Illustration: FIG. 108. Cherry stoner.] [Illustration: FIG. 109. Grinder.] Keep this parer clean by scrubbing the inside with a stiff brush and rinsing well with water after using. Keep in a dry place. =200. Seeders and Stoners.= Seeders and stoners are constructed to punch out the seeds which are contained in cherries, grapes, raisins, etc. [Illustration: FIG. 110. Parts of Corona grinder.] =201. Cherry Stoner.= A simple cherry stoner (Fig. 108) consists of a small platform with a rod slightly smaller in diameter than a cherry stone. The cherry is put on an inclined plane so that it rolls over the hole. The cherry usually stays on the rod until this rod is lifted; then it passes between two guards which pushes the cherry off on another incline, where it rolls into a pan (Fig. 108). There are several makes of stoners, but most of them work on this principle, whether the rod is lifted by hand or moved by a crank. [Illustration: FIG. 111. Parts of Universal grinder.] [Illustration: FIG. 112. Vegetable slicer.] =202. Grinders.= Grinders are of two principal types--the roller and the burr. Coffee and other hand mills are of the burr type (Figs. 109 and 110). The food passing between these rough surfaces is ground to a fine powder as one is turned on the other. =203. Choppers or Meat Grinders.= Choppers or meat grinders, as they are sometimes called, consist of a spiral channel, thru which the food is pushed along. Knives are placed in the sides of some machines to chop the food as it passes, while in others the knives are only at the outlet. Keep the fingers out of the hopper when the chopper is being operated. Keep the machine clean and dry when not in use (Fig. 111). [Illustration: FIG. 113. Universal vegetable slicer.] =204. Choppers.= Choppers have been made which really chop the food without crushing it, but these machines are so clumsy and noisy, that they have not come into common household use. They consist of chopping knives which are raised and lowered by levers and a crank. =205. Slicers.= Slicers vary in design. The following illustrations (Figs. 112 and 113) show two different types. Care must be taken to guard the fingers when using slicers. Wash the knives and keep them dry when not in use. A soiled knife gets dull faster than a clean, dry one. =206. Lard and Fruit Presses; Sausage Stuffers.= Presses and stuffers are of two types--the one which depends on the weight exerted on a long lever, and the other which depends on a screw to press the substances. The screw forces a flat board or surface down upon the food as it is turned. More pressure for the size of the device can be secured with the screw than is practical with a weight on the long arm of a lever (Fig. 114). The stuffer is like a press, except that the food is forced out one hole. [Illustration: FIG. 114. Lard and fruit press.] CHAPTER XXIX MIXERS, BEATERS AND CHURNS; COFFEE POTS =207. Use of Mixers, Beaters and Churns.= Mixers, beaters and churns are all devices for agitating or stirring food. [Illustration: FIG. 115. Parts of bread mixer.] The simpler ones of these devices depend upon the motion of the hand (Fig. 115), while others have their velocity increased by means of cog wheels. The turning of the large wheel turns the small wheel as many times as number of cogs on the small wheel is contained in the number on the large wheel (see Fig. 116). To get even more speed or to apply the power at a different angle, a series of wheels are sometimes used. A few mixers, like the bread mixer, are simply machines which take the hands out of the food, thus tending to a higher degree of sanitation, and a change in the motion which may not be so tiring as kneading. They do not increase the speed of mixing. Bread made in a mixer has a somewhat different texture than bread kneaded by hand, but this does not change its nutritive value. =208. Care of These Devices.= The principal care needed by these devices is that they be kept clean and the cog wheels dry. Very little oil should be used, as it would tend to get it into the food. Sometimes the rivet holding a wheel needs to be tightened, as, for example, when one becomes so loose that the wheel slips cogs. If it is too tight, the wheel may bind and work hard. [Illustration: FIG. 116. View showing internal arrangement of cake mixer.] =209. Freezers.= The freezer is a mixer in a can which is in turn set in a freezing mixture of ice and salt. Freezing can be done without stirring the cream. This makes a cream filled with crystals, while if stirred, it will be smooth and velvety because it freezes more evenly. The rapidity of freezing and the proportion of the ice and salt affect the fineness of the grain of the frozen dish. A freezer is designed not only to stir the food, but to scrape it from the sides of the can. That which freezes first must be stirred into the middle of the can; otherwise, it would form a hard frozen layer of cream on the sides, leaving the middle unfrozen, and interfere with the turning of the paddle or beater. In the bottom of the outside bucket, holding the ice and salt, is a socket into which the pivot on the bottom of the can fits. The can turns on this pivot in the direction opposite to which the paddle is turning. Some freezers are made so that the can stays stationary. The function of the pivot is then to hold the can in the center of the pail so that the paddle will be in the proper position to turn easily. =210. Care of Freezers.= The pail of wood should not be stored in a very dry place when not in use. The can and paddle must be kept clean and dry so that they will not rust. The bearings and wheels which turn the paddle and can must be kept dry and oiled. There is a hole in the upper part of the tub or pail in which the can sets, and this should be kept open as it is placed slightly below the level of the top of the can so as to drain off any water from the melting ice which otherwise might get into the can and make the food salty. Some freezers have another hole at the bottom of the tub. This should be kept closed while food is being frozen. It is useful to drain off the water from the tub when the freezer is to be repacked or emptied. It should not be opened at any other time. =211. Churns.= Churning can be done with almost any device which agitates the cream, but the churns which are simplest are most easily cleaned and least wasteful of butter. They are barrels or other containers which revolve or swing backward and forward. Keep churns clean and well aired so they will not give up odors and flavors to the butter. After a churn has been used, rinse it with cold water and then wash it in hot water, to which washing soda has been added. Lastly, rinse with scalding water. Leave open to air when not in use, but protect from dust and dirt. =212. Drip Coffee Pots.= Drip coffee is made in a funnel or a cup-shaped device which is suspended in a coffee pot (Fig. 117). This is made either of cloth or perforated metal. The coffee is pulverized and packed into the funnel. Cold water is poured on top of the coffee and slowly filters thru it, extracting flavoring substances. The water is heated after it has filtered thru the coffee. [Illustration: FIG. 117. Drip funnel in percolator.] =213. Percolator Coffee Pots.= A coffee percolator is a device put in a coffee pot to hold the ground coffee above the water and pump some of the water to the top of the pot so that it can seep back down thru the ground coffee (Fig. 118). A perforated cup with a perforated cover holds the coffee. Thru the center of this cup passes a small tube to the top of the pot. At the bottom of the tube is a flat plate with turned-down edges or other device which supports the pipe and rests on the bottom of the pot. A small amount of water gets under this and into the pipe. The heat in the stove turns the water next the bottom to steam, and this steam, in escaping, forces the water in the pipe to the top of the pot, and raises the device slightly so that more water flows under it and into the pipe, and again steam is formed and more water forced to the top of the pot. (See Sec. 161, Suction Washers.) After being forced out of the top of the pipe, the water falls in a spray on the cover of the cup and seeps down thru the coffee back into the main part of the coffee pot. The pumping devices in percolators may differ somewhat in design, but the working principle is the same--that steam is lighter than water and can be generated in amounts which will force water up thru the central tube. [Illustration: FIG. 118. Percolator.] Coffee grounds must not be allowed to get into the small tube, for they will hinder the flow of the water. The holes in the cup and cover must be kept open. There is less waste in using finely-ground coffee than the coarsely-ground in percolators. A small tube brush is needed for cleaning percolators. The coffee must not be ground so fine that it will sift thru the perforations in the cup. CHAPTER XXX DISH-WASHERS, CANNERS AND DRYERS The dish-washers (Fig. 119) have found a place in hotels and large establishments, they are still in the experimental stage for general household use. Small machines on the market, patterned after the hotel type, are giving good results for home use. When using these machines, place the dishes in them in the manner directed and use as much water as is called for. [Illustration: FIG. 119. Dish-washer.] Some dish washers work on the plan of revolving the dishes in the water, some in forcing the water over the dishes, and others by agitation of both dishes and water. [Illustration: FIG. 119-_a_. Small dish-washer for household use.] Keep the pan washed clean. Keep all bearings properly oiled. Have the machine dry when not in use. There is least breakage in the washers which hold the dishes stationary (Figs. 119,-_a_,-_b_ and-_c_). One type of dish-washer has no motor; the force of the running water washes the dishes. This can only be used where the water supply is abundant and under considerable pressure. The washers equipped with paddles for throwing the water over the dishes use about a dishpanful of water for washing the dishes, and as much more for scalding and rinsing them. When well scalded in the dish-washer, the dishes will dry if the cover to the washer is left open. [Illustration: FIG. 119-_b_. Walker dish-washer.] =214. Dish Dryer.= There is a number of dish dryers on the market which hold the dishes separate from each other. Into these dryers, boiling hot water is poured, over the dishes. There is provision for the water being drained away immediately, and the heat it imparts to the dishes dries them. (Fig. 119-_c_.) =215. Cleaning Silver.= Silver can be cleaned in an aluminum pan filled with water and soda. There are silver cleaners which are merely aluminum pans with which come directions for proportioning the soda and the water. A mixture of salt and baking soda is sometimes used, combined with a piece of zinc in an aluminum pan. The salt, soda, zinc and silver are put into the aluminum pan and set on the stove. The action of the salt and soda on the metals produces an electrolytic action which brightens the silver. Do not use this method of cleaning on gray or colored silver. [Illustration: FIG. 119-_c_. Tray for holding dishes.] [Illustration: FIG. 120. Water bath canner.] =216. Canners.= Canners are devices for sterilizing fruit and other food which is being canned. The wash-boiler type consists of a boiler or kettle with a rack in the bottom to raise the jars an inch or so from its bottom to prevent the cracking of the jars. It has a cover to keep the heat uniform. The water in the canner must entirely cover the jar. This is usually called a water bath, as the jars must be completely submerged in the water (Figs. 120 and 120-_a_). [Illustration: FIG. 120-_a_. Small canning outfit.] =217. Water Seal.= Water-seal canners are like the water-bath canners, except that the cover has a flange on it, the depth of the boiler, and about two inches from the sides of it. This makes a jacket of water between the flange and sides of the canner. This causes the temperature inside to rise about two degrees above the ordinary temperature of boiling water. Food can be sterilized in a little shorter time in this canner than in the ordinary water bath. It is as important that the water entirely cover the jar in this canner as in the water bath. =218. Pressure Canners.= Pressure canners are made very strong and have covers which fit tight, making it possible to raise the temperature in them considerably above the boiling temperature of water, so the food may be sterilized in a very short time. [Illustration: FIG. 121. Pressure canner showing pet cock.] The pressure canner has either a rack or a perforated pail on the inside to raise the jars from the bottom as in other canners. It is also fitted with a steam gage which registers the pounds of pressure in the canner. Five to fifteen pounds pressure is used for canning. The amount of pressure needed and the time of sterilizing depends on the organism present. A higher pressure is an indication of a higher temperature in the canner. After the jars are filled and put in the canner, the cover is fastened down tight by thumb-screws. There is a pet cock which is kept open when the canner is first heating, to let the air be forced out by the first steam which forms. As soon as the steam begins to escape, the pet cock is closed and the temperature inside of the canner begins to rise above the temperature of boiling water (Fig. 121). On the canner is a safety valve which is set so that the instant a certain number of pounds of pressure is reached, it is lifted up by the steam. Some of the steam then escapes, thus preventing the pressure in the canner becoming so great that there is danger of its exploding. =219. Use of the Canner.= Water is put into the canner to reach to the bottom of the rack. The jars are filled according to canning directions and are set in the canner. When the jars are in, the cover is adjusted to the canner and screwed on tight so that no steam will escape between the cover and the canner. The pet cock is left open until steam begins to escape thru it as the canner is heating on the stove. When steam begins to come, the pet cock should be closed, and the steam-gage hand then begins to turn, indicating that the pressure in the canner is rising. When the steam-gage reaches the point desired, the safety valve is adjusted so that the steam will escape should the pressure continue to rise. Until the operator knows where to set the weight to the safety valve, leave it well out to the end of the rod until the pressure in the canner has reached the desired point. Then move the weight to the point on the arm of the valve which will just keep in the steam. [Illustration: FIG. 122. Device for sealing tin can.] Be sure the cover is properly adjusted. Be sure to exhaust the air from the canner before closing the pet cock. Keep the fire so that the desired pressure will be maintained without the escape of steam from the safety valve. When steam escapes from the canner thru the pet cock at a rapid rate, it may cause liquid to flow out of the jars. Be certain to let the canner cool until the indicator on the steam-gage has reached zero before opening the canner. When the indicator points to zero, open the pet cock. If a heavy stream of steam starts to escape from it, close it again and wait a few minutes longer. Test again by opening the pet cock; if a very little stream of steam escapes, leave the pet cock open and wait until steam has stopped escaping from it. Now loosen the screws holding the cover in place. Partially loosen each screw. When this is done, fully loosen all and lift off the cover. These precautions are taken to prevent the operator from being burned by steam or getting hurt by the cover being lifted by the steam. It also prevents the breaking of glass jars due to sudden pressure changes. Never let the canner cool so long before the pet cock is opened that air will rush into it, due to the vacuum which is sure to form when the steam is cooled if the pet cock is not opened. Such a condition may break the jars. [Illustration: FIG. 123. Dryer.] Tin cans are sealed with a device (Fig. 122) which folds the edge of the cover over the top of the can so tightly it will not leak. =220. Dryers.= Dryers are devices to hold the food being dried in a thin layer so that the air can be circulated thru it freely. Sometimes they are devised to direct currents of air thru the drying material. If the air is heated, the drying is hastened (Fig. 123). A sieve on which food is spread hung above the stove is a simple drying device and one of the most practical for home use. The heat currents rising from the stove pass thru this and dry the food. Many dryers are constructed on this same principle, having a heating unit below and trays of food above. These trays have to be shifted from time to time, as the moisture from the lower ones rises with the heat to the upper trays, thus retarding their drying. The top trays, if too numerous, are useless on this account. Two or three seem to be all that can be used with advantage at one time in home dryers, the some machines are made with many more. Another type of dryer has a fan device in it which forces the air thru at a faster rate than would be accomplished by heat alone. Such air should pass thru a strainer. Ordinary air, even when drawn from a clean room, carries much dust with it, and if the dust is not strained out previously, it is strained out by the food. This injures the quality of the product. Large commercial dryers provide such a strainer. =221. Care of Dryers.= Dryers should be kept clean. They should not be heated enough to cook the food. Set them in a dry, airy place. CHAPTER XXXI SEPARATORS AND EMULSIFIERS =222. Cream Separators.= A cream separator is a device for separating cream from milk. Separation can be done best while the milk is still warm (Fig. 124). Separators should be set in a bright, dry, airy place free from dust and dirt. Near the separator should be a convenient place for airing and sunning the tin parts which come in contact with the milk. The base for the separator should be solid enough so that it will not shake while the machine is being operated. If set on a wooden floor, see that the boards are nailed in place, and if the floor is thin, put heavy strips to cover several boards across it. Fasten the strips firmly to the floor and set the separator on them. When the machine is set up, be sure that it is set level. =223. Different Types of Separators.= There are two types of separators--one which contains discs of metal (Fig. 125), and the other which depends upon a cylinder in which the milk rotates (Fig. 124) for the separation of the cream from the skim milk. Fig. 126 shows a sectional view of the DeLaval separator. Cream is lighter than milk, and when milk and cream are whirled rapidly, the milk, being heavier, flies to the outside of the container, and the cream stays near the center. Two pails whirled rapidly made the first separator ever used, but that was clumsy and impractical. Modern separators consist of a pan which holds the milk, and which lets it flow in a stream into the portion of the machine which is being whirled rapidly by the turning of the wheel at the side. There is a place in the rotating part which lets the cream flow from the center into one container, and the milk flow from the outside to another. [Illustration: FIG. 124. Cream separator.] The parts of the machine must be fitted together properly; otherwise, it will fail to do good work. Always turn the wheel at the speed indicated for the machine with discs. If there is no speed indicated, turn as fast as needed for good separation of milk and cream. Take care not to drop and dent any of the tin parts. Adjust for the density desired for the cream. [Illustration: FIG. 125. Discs in DeLaval cream separator.] =224. Washing the Machine.= As soon as milk has been skimmed with the separator, pour some water into the bowl and run it thru the separator the same as the milk. Wash the bowl and other parts in hot water in which washing soda has been dissolved. Rinse in clear water, and then scald with boiling water. Once a week give it a more thoro washing, scrubbing all parts with a brush. Sun the parts when not in use. =225. Oiling.= The mechanical parts which whirl the separator should be kept oiled. In oiling, follow the directions which come with the machine. Use a good grade of oil. =226. Whey Separator.= A whey separator is a machine very much similar to a milk and cream separator. It is used in homes where much cheese is manufactured. It should be given the same care as other separators. An homogenizer is a device used to give whole milk a consistency which is much like cream. [Illustration: FIG. 126. Sectional view of separator.] =227. Emulsifier.= The emulsifier is a device for combining dried whole milk with water, or dried skim milk with water and butter fat so that they make a reconstructed milk of almost the same composition as new milk. An emulsifier is of interest to the woman who lives in the city. Emulsifiers are used in large institutions. Some have been installed in settlement houses and public schools. They might be owned by communities where people might use a large amount of dried milk. In the emulsifier, the milk, water and sweet butter are warmed. After this, they pass thru a device looking much like a separator, but which mixes the ingredients together instead of separating them. From the mixer the milk passes over a cooling device, and is ready for use. This machine should be kept clean, and the parts which come in contact with the milk scalded out with hot water after being rinsed with cold water. QUESTIONS FOR PART VIII 1. What metals would you select for a pan to use when a thin crust is wanted? What materials produce thick crusts? 2. For what purposes would you choose aluminum? Granite? Cast iron? Glass? Earthenware? On what basis would you make a choice of utensils? Why wouldn't glass make a good ice-cream freezer? 3. What are the essentials of good parers, slicers and corers? 4. What kind of dish washers are proving the most helpful? 5. Describe a silver-cleaning device. Does the use of such devices harm the silverware? 6. What is a water-bath canner? How would you make one? 7. What may cause glass jars in pressure cookers to break? 8. How may the breakage be prevented? 9. Explain the ways in which cream may be separated from milk. 10. How do separators help? PART IX SUNDRY DEVICES CHAPTER XXXII DUMBWAITERS AND OTHER HOUSE FURNISHINGS =228. Dumbwaiters and Window Adjustments.= Dumbwaiters and elevators are used in homes where the kitchen is on a different floor from the dining-room. [Illustration: FIG. 127. Spring pulley for windows.] The simplest ones are a set of shelves counterbalanced by weights. When the elevator is raised, the weights drop down, and when it is lowered, the weights rise. Window weights hung over a pulley in the top of the window sash work on the same principle as dumbwaiters--the weights help in raising the window. The only care needed is to replace the rope when worn. Another window pulley is made of metal like that in a clock spring (Fig. 127). The spring is drawn out when the window is lowered, and the weight of the window is just enough to hold it, so very little force is needed to raise the window, as the spring is pulling on it, too. =229. Check Valves.= Check valves are made to prevent doors from slamming. They are used in offices and public buildings, and, occasionally, in homes (Fig. 128). One kind contains glycerine and castor oil, which move from one compartment to another as the door is opened and slowly flow back as a spring pulls the door shut. [Illustration: FIG. 128. Check valve.] The other kind is operated by compressed air and a spring. The air causes the steady action of the door stop. Another type of pneumatic hinge is attached to a door which is hung so that it would naturally swing shut. When the door is opened, the air is exhausted from part of the hinge. After it has been opened, the slow equalization of the air inside the door stop and outside allows the door to close slowly without slamming. [Illustration: FIG. 129. Door holder.] =230. Door Fastener.= A door fastener (Fig. 129) is a small device which has a strong spring on the inside. When the spring is released, it pushes down on a rod which is capped with rubber. When down, this comes in contact with the floor and holds the door in place. To change the position of the door, a small lever is used to lift the rod and compress the spring, thus releasing the door stop from contact with the floor. =231. Window Shades.= Window shades are equipped with a spring in one end of the roller to aid in raising it. At the end of the spring is a flat bar which is held in position by the bracket on which the shade is hung. Small catches hold the curtain when it is at the desired position (Fig. 130). If the spring becomes weak, draw the curtain down. This compresses the spring. Stop so that the clamps always fall into place to hold it. Then remove the curtain from the brackets and roll it up by hand. Place it back on the brackets. It can then be raised or lowered as wanted, and will work with more power. Take care when doing this not to wind the spring so tight that it will draw the curtain clear around the roller, thus letting the spring unwind or breaking the spring. [Illustration: FIG. 130. Spring in curtain roller.] [Illustration: FIG. 131. Hinge.] =232. Hinges.= There are some hinges which should be of interest to women. These are the ones for doors which swing only one way, and for those which swing both out and in (Fig. 131). =233. Sliding Doors.= When sliding doors slip off the slide, they may be replaced. They are hung like a barn door. There is a metal track above the door between the walls. The door is hung on this track by pulleys which slide along the track. Sometimes, by accident, these pulleys are slipped from the track. The door then must be lifted so that the pulley can be set back on the track. Usually the door needs to be lifted but a fraction of an inch and then pushed a little to one side or the other to get the pulley into place. CHAPTER XXIII SEWING MACHINES [Illustration: FIG. 132. Lock-stitch machine. 1. Bed Slide 2. Presser Foot 3. Presser Foot Thumb Screw 4. Needle Clamp 5. Needle Clamp Thumb Screw 6. Needle Bar Thread Guide 7. Needle Bar Bushing 8. Thread Cutter 9. Face Plate Thumb Screw 10. Slack Thread Regulator 11. Tension Spring 12. Tension Regulating Thumb Nut 13. Tension Discs 14. Thread Take-up Spring 15. Thread Guide 16. Presser Bar Lifter 17. Face Plate 18. Pressure Regulating Thumb Screw 19. Presser Bar 20. Thread Take-up Lever 21. Thread Guide 22. Arm 23. Spool Pin 24. Bobbin Winder Stop Latch 25. Belt Cover 26. Bobbin Winder Thread Guide 27. Balance Wheel 28. Bobbin Winder Pulley 29. Bobbin Winder Spindle 30. Bobbin Winder Worm Wheel 31. Stitch Regulating Thumb Screw 32. Bed 33. Throat Plate 34. Feed Plate ] =234. Different Types of Sewing Machines.= There are two types of sewing machines in use--the chain-stitch and the lock-stitch. Sewing machines are made to run by hand, foot or mechanical motor power. This makes no difference in design or care of the stitching part of the machine. Motor and foot power run the machine faster than hand power. The treadle of the foot-power machines swings on pivots. These should be kept oiled and clean from lint and thread. The large and the small wheels for the belt should be oiled at the axle. =235. Lock-Stitch Sewing Machine.= A lock-stitch sewing machine (Figs. 132 and 133) consists of shafts and wheels which move the needle, feed plate and bobbin. The top thread is guided from spool to needle thru a tension so that only the needed amount passes forward each time the needle is raised after the thread has caught in the cloth. When there is a difference in the size of the thread used on the machine, the tension must be adjusted to fit the thread, unless the tension is automatic. If the tension is not properly adjusted or the machine threaded properly, the thread will either break, tangle at the needle point, or draw the top thread tighter than the bottom one (Fig. 134). A longer stitch is needed for coarse thread than for fine thread. =236. Feed Plate.= A device below the needle called the feed plate (No. 34, Fig. 132) shoves the cloth faster or slower under the needle, according to its adjustment, thus making a longer or shorter stitch. This device is a rough plate which moves backward each time the needle is raised, and forward again when the needle comes down. While moving backward, the rough surface moves the cloth, but it drops slightly below the level of the table as it moves back into place, so does not affect the cloth. For short stitches, it moves with a short stroke, and for long stitches, with a long stroke. If the feed plate becomes gummed with lint and oil, the machine will not make even stitches and may fail to move the cloth. Sometimes it will fail to stitch. Improper threading may break the needle thread. Too tight a tension may break it. Too coarse thread for the size of the needle may break the needle. A bent, blunt pointed or incorrectly set needle may break. [Illustration: FIG. 133. Under part of machine using a vibrating shuttle.] [Illustration: FIG. 134. Diagrams showing proper tension.] =237. Bobbins.= There are two styles of bobbins used on lock-stitch sewing machines--the shuttle bobbin (Fig. 135) and the round bobbin (Fig. 136), depending on the particular type of machine used. [Illustration: FIG. 135. Shuttle bobbin.] =238. Shuttle Bobbins.= In shuttle bobbins, there is a long iron spool on which the thread is wound. This is put into the bobbin with the twist in the direction indicated in the book of directions for the machine being used, and the thread is drawn thru the slits and holes in the bobbin which govern the tension of the lower thread (see Fig. 135). Put the shuttle into place and draw the thread up over the feed plate (Fig. 137). The machine moves the shuttle backward and forward, and as this happens, the needle is timed to drop down, leaving a loop of thread in such a position that the bobbin passes thru it. In rising, the needle pulls the loop up tight, and as it has passed thru the cloth, this cloth comes in between the thread from the bobbin on the under side and the thread from the spool on the upper side, which have been interlocked by the bobbin having passed thru the loop of thread from the spool as the needle carried it down below the cloth. This is called the lock-stitch (Fig. 134). The spool bobbins also pass thru the loop left after the needle has passed downward. [Illustration: FIG. 136. Spool bobbin.] [Illustration: FIG. 137. Pulling up bobbin thread.] =239. Chain-Stitch Machine.= In the chain-stitch machine (Fig. 138), the shaft turns a device which draws a loop of thread thru each foregoing loop, thus making a stitch similar to crocheting, but having the cloth interlocked with the stitch. The needle carries the thread and makes it tight or loose as needed. The feed plate carries the cloth under the needle. There is a tension to govern the thread. As a single thread is used in making this stitch, no bobbin is used. The tension must be tight enough to draw the loop of thread about the cloth, or else the thread will tangle. =240. Cautions for All Machines.= Machines should be kept well oiled, and they must be kept free from thread and lint, for these are the things which give trouble in machines. Never try to draw the cloth under the needle any faster than it is pushed along by the feed plate under the presser foot. Pulling on the cloth bends the needle from the exact path which it should follow. Move the treadle with a smooth, even motion--a jerky motion wears out operator and machine. Use only the best sewing-machine oil. Poor oil gums the parts of the machine. Clean the machine every day it is in use. Take care to set the needle in its proper position, and fasten it firmly in place. =241. General Instructions.= Thread the machine exactly according to instructions. If not properly threaded, it will fail to stitch--the thread will tangle. If the bobbin is not properly threaded, it will not have the proper tension, and the machine cannot sew as it should. The bobbin thread will break if it is not properly threaded thru the bobbin case. It will also break if the bobbin tension is too tight (No. 14, Fig. 138). [Illustration: FIG. 138. Chain-stitch machine. 1. Cloth Plate 2. Presser Foot 3. Needle-Bar Nut 4. Needle-Bar 5. Needle-Bar Screw 6. Foot Bar 7. Lever 8. Liftee 9. Take Up 10. Embroidery Spring 11. Pull Off 12. Spool-Pin 13. Spool-Pin Holder 14. Automatic Tension 15. Tension Rod 16. Ball Stud 17. Lever Stud 18. Connecting Rod 19. Small Wheel 20. Belt 21. Shaft 22. Frame 23. Stitch Regulator 24. Cap 25. Looper 26. Link 27. Feed Bar 28. Feed Surface ] Always regulate the stitch and the size of needle for each size and kind of thread used. A table for this usually comes with each machine, or is often stamped on the machine. Select the thread suitable to the material. The number of a needle is marked on the shank. Needles made for one kind of machine will not always work on another. An automatic tension should not be changed or meddled with. Some tensions must be adjusted to the thread. Follow directions coming with the machine for adjusting tensions. Remove any thread which has become entangled in the mechanism of the machine. Never use a bent needle. A bent needle drops stitches on a chain-stitch machine. Soaping the needle helps it to go thru goods difficult to penetrate. When a machine runs hard, it needs oil or has become gummed up with poor oil. When gummed, clean with kerosene oil. Thread or ravelings wound about the axles of the wheels also makes the machine run hard. Learn to use the attachments of your machine--take care that they do not become bent. The lock-stitch does not rip easily. The ends of the thread of chain stitches should be carefully fastened. If started from the end where the seam was completed, the loop stitch may be easily unraveled and thus save time when mistakes are made in sewing or when garments are being made over. CHAPTER XXXIV AUTOMOBILES No lengthy treatise on automobiles can be given here, but a few facts of general information are well in order. Each car has its special features, but the basic principles of operation and control are the same for all makes. Let us consider, first, the control of the machine on the road. =242. Starting the Motor.= Open the throttle from one-fourth to one-third way, to permit entry of plenty of gas into the motor. Set the time control about as far down as the throttle. Turn on the ignition switch and turn the motor with the starter. A cold motor may demand use of the choker before starting, but, again, too free use of the choker floods the carburetor with a rich, non-explosive mixture which can be removed only by use of the starter. Should the motor flood too easily, or should it take too much choking, have the carburetor readjusted. Common mistakes in starting the motor are (1) too free use of the starter, which is injurious to the battery; (2) starting with the timer set too far down, causing back-fire. Occasionally, a novice attempts to start a car with the gears set and the brakes on. With the motor started and running smoothly, shift the gears into low and take off the brake. Let the clutch back gently to prevent the car from starting with a jerk. In shifting gears, the throttle should be kept down to prevent the motor from racing upon releasing the clutch. (3) A common mistake is the attempt to shift gears with the clutch not entirely released. (4) Still another error is the failure to release the brake on starting, resulting in everything from a stalled motor to a stripped gear. A difficult place to start a car is when stalled on a hill. This is done by holding the machine with the foot brake, throttling the motor with the hand lever, and slowly releasing brake and engaging clutch simultaneously. =243. Driving the Automobile.= In driving, many things should be observed. The oil pressure gauge or indicator should be noted from time to time to see that the motor bearings are getting proper lubrication. The speed of the motor should be such that the battery is being charged rather than discharged, as is likewise shown by an indicator on the dash. This is especially important when using lights at night. Keep timer lever in correct place to prevent overheating. The general rule for driving is--keep to the right side of the road, the only possible exception being when passing a vehicle going in the same direction; then go around on the left. Stop before crossing railroad tracks, and drive slowly when approaching cross roads. In turning corners to the left, make the turn beyond the center of the cross road. Do not use brakes against the motor--release the clutch. Do not use the brake too forcibly; it will cause injury to rear tires and skidding. On slippery roads, make it a rule to use chains and drive slowly. =244. Care of Car.= Under this heading, a few general rules may be given. Do not persist in running a machine when out of order. Never drive when the lubrication system is working imperfectly. Lack of cylinder oil will ruin a motor in a short time. Make it a rule to look at oil gauge before starting. Care of the battery consists largely in keeping it charged and filled to the proper level with distilled water. Tires should be kept inflated at all times. In case of trouble, never run on a flat tire, as it will soon be worthless under such treatment. Never drive a machine while out of order--stop and have repairs or adjustments made. CHAPTER XXXV LAWN MOWERS; INCUBATORS =245. Operation and Care of Lawn Mowers.= The wheels of the lawn mower permit it both to move easily over the ground and turn the knives which cut the grass (Fig. 139). [Illustration: FIG. 139. Lawn mower.] This means that they must be kept well oiled to work easily--that the shaft of the wheel must not become wrapped with grass, weeds, string or wire. Most machines are made adjustable, and the knives are set to allow them to pass close enough to the plate at the bottom of the mower to clip the grass as if the machine were a pair of scissors. Keep the knives properly adjusted in relation to this plate. Do not let them come so close that they touch the plate but very lightly, nor be so uneven that one end cuts grass, while the other misses the plate so far that it will not cut. If the knives are kept properly adjusted and the mower is not abused by trying to cut wires, stones, or by being stored where it becomes rusty, it will seldom need sharpening. Keep all bolts tight. =246. Storing Mowers.= When storing for the winter, grease the knives with a heavy coat of unsalted lard, or cover them with some other protective material. =247. Scissors and Shears.= In popular language, there is no distinction made between scissors and shears. Technically defined, scissors are less than six inches in length. Any similar cutting device of greater length is called shears. Both are devices used for cutting cloth, paper, pruning trees, and many other purposes. They consist of two knives riveted together at some point between the handle and the point of the blade. The two blades are so adjusted that as the open scissors are closed, they touch lightly as they pass each other until the tip is reached. When the scissors are closed, the blades should touch only at rivet and tip. Scissors not so adjusted will not cut well, even the the blades are very sharp. Dropping scissors often bends the blades. Blades may be straightened as well as sharpened, and thus make good metal scissors like new. =248. Principles Upon Which Incubator Works.= A device for hatching chickens is called an incubator. In order to hatch chickens, the incubator must keep an average temperature of 102-1/2 degrees Fahrenheit. The thermometer should be placed in the center of the tray and on a level with the top of the eggs. The temperature of 102-1/2 degrees Fahrenheit must not vary greatly during the incubation of eggs. The incubator must also permit of suitable ventilation and control of the moisture in the eggs. There are incubators heated with hot water and others with hot air. The air or water in those commonly used in homes is heated with a kerosene lamp. The device consists of a heating unit, a regulator or thermostat which, acting upon a valve or damper, regulates the admission of heat into the insulated box containing the trays of eggs, ventilators and a thermometer (Fig. 140). =249. The Body of the Incubator.= The box-like body of a good incubator is set on strong legs which raise it to a convenient height. The trays slide into the box on cleats about two or three inches from the bottom of the body. They fit so that a slit about two inches wide is left between for the chickens to drop down under the tray as they hatch. Usually this is near the door. If the door is furnished with a glass to admit light, the chickens are attracted toward light and fall thru the slit. [Illustration: FIG. 140. Incubator.] The walls of the incubator are usually double so that air can be let in without making a draft. Dampers in the side of the machine regulate the admission of air. Ventilation both regulates the amount of air circulating in the incubator and the amount of moisture. Air from a damp room keeps the eggs moist. Air from a dry room dries them. =250. Incubators Heated by a Lamp.= Choose a lamp which holds enough oil to last for twenty-four hours. Good lamps are usually made of metal and as plain as possible (Fig. 141). [Illustration: FIG. 141. Incubator lamp.] The burner furnished with them is an ordinary lamp burner carrying a straight, flat wick. Metal chimneys are used, there being enough mica in one side to permit the flame to be seen. The chimney extends into a metal chamber containing the hot-water pipes, or into a chamber thru which air is taken and heated by the chimney. The fumes from the burning oil pass out into the room and not into the incubator. The heated air passes thru ducts into the incubator. These are often constructed of wood. =251. The Wick.= The wick most generally found practical is the cotton wick, such as is used in ordinary lamps. It should be kept clean and renewed often. The lamp should be kept filled regularly. The wick must always be kept trimmed even, to prevent smoking. Incubators heated by electricity have the heating unit placed either above or below the trays of eggs. The current is controlled by a thermostat. =252. Thermostat.= The thermostat also raises the damper over the top of the lamp and air heater (Fig. 142), when the incubator reaches the temperature for which it is set, and lowers it when the temperature falls. When the damper is lifted, the heated air passes out into the room and not into the incubator. As soon as the incubator cools below this temperature, the thermostat contracts, letting the damper drop in place to retain the heat and direct it into the incubator. The thermostat works the same when a gas flame is used instead of a lamp. In electrical machines, the thermostat operates the switch, admitting much, little or no current, as is needed to maintain 102½ degrees Fahrenheit. [Illustration: FIG. 142. Thermostat for incubator.] =253. The Thermometer.= A thermometer is placed in the incubator to guide the operator in regulating the temperature. It guides him in adjusting the thermostat and the heating device; that is, it shows him when to turn the wick of the lamp up or down. Lamps should never be turned high enough to smoke. Smoke and gas in the room are likely to get into the incubator and harm the growing chicks. =254. Operation of Incubator.= Set the incubator level; it is constructed to work on the level. Heated air rises--if the incubator is not level, the highest point will get most of the heat. It should be set in a dry room or dry cellar, which is well ventilated and well lighted. There should be no artificial heat in the room which is not regular. An uneven temperature gives difficulty in managing the heating of the incubator. The room should be free from dust. Adjust the incubator and run it for two or three days to see that it is operating at a constant temperature before putting in the eggs. Use only the best grade of oil, and use the same kind of oil all thru one hatch. Change in oil may necessitate a change in regulators which is not safe while the eggs are in the incubators. Start the incubator with a good, clear, high flame in the lamp, so that it can be turned lower as the germs in the eggs begin to grow and generate heat. Start the incubator at 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and by the second day, it will reach the temperature of 102 degrees. [Illustration: FIG. 143. Egg tester.] Violent fluctuations of temperature in the incubator are dangerous and should be avoided. Accuracy in reading temperatures and in adjusting the thermostat and ventilators is essential. Fill the lamp and turn the eggs regularly. Cleanliness is important. Disinfect the incubator between hatches, and air it well. Cresol soap and water make a good disinfectant for incubators. Turn and handle eggs with clean hands. To know whether the incubator has the proper amount of moisture supplied, weigh the trays before filling, weigh after filling. At the end of the fifth day, weigh tray and eggs again, subtract the tray weight, which is constant, from the weight of the whole, and note the difference between this weight and the original weight of the eggs. If 100 eggs have lost 8.38 ounces, or 4.17 per cent of their weight, the moisture is correct. [Illustration: FIG. 144. Appearance of eggs when put in egg tester.] If they have lost too much weight, give more moisture or less ventilation, but, remember, that pure air is essential to incubators, so do not shut off ventilation entirely. If not enough weight is lost, open the ventilators, and, if necessary, for the next hatch, place the incubator in a drier place. =255. Egg Tester.= An egg tester is a device for looking thru eggs to ascertain whether or not they are good. It consists of some device to keep all bright light away from the eyes except a few bright rays shining thru the egg. The hole should be about an inch long and three-fourths of an inch wide. A metal chimney with one such opening in the side used in a darkened room serves as an egg tester. A large piece of cardboard tacked over a sunny basement window is sometimes used, the hole being cut in the cardboard (Fig. 143). Hold the egg between the finger and thumb before the opening. Look at the egg as the light shines thru it. Fig. 144 shows how good and bad eggs look when viewed in egg tester. CHAPTER XXXVI TYPEWRITERS [Illustration: FIG. 145. Typewriter, L. C. Smith.] =256. Construction of Typewriter.= The typewriter is a machine for printing letters (Fig. 145). The letters making the imprint are attached to shafts which can each swing to one point. Care should be taken to strike one key at a time, as they are all made to reach the same point, and contact with each other may cause bent shafts. If a shaft becomes bent, the letter attached to it will not swing to the desired point, so will be out of alignment, or will fail to leave a mark, since the imprint is made on a roller and the letter hits only the nearest part of the surface. The shaft may have one, two or three letters on it. This is made possible by the use of the shift key which raises or lowers the framework to which the roller is attached, so that when the machine is in normal position, one set of type on the keys will be imprinted, and, upon the holding down of a shift key and simultaneously striking a letter, another set of type will make the imprint. On some typewriters there are two shift keys, allowing three sets of characters to be used. The motion of the keys turns a small wheel which shoves the roller from right to left, and, also, turns the spools of ribbons so that a new bit of ribbon comes under the letter each time a key is struck. If the ribbon did not move, the letters would soon cut a hole thru it. This ribbon carries the ink which reproduces the imprint of the letter. When the end of a ribbon is reached, most machines reverse its direction so that it again winds onto the spool from which it has just unwound. On other machines, it is necessary to release the bar which controls the spools to reverse the winding of the ribbon. =257. Special Features of Typewriter.= Learn how to use the attachments on the typewriter to get the greatest service from it. If a machine is equipped with tabulating keys, much time is saved by using them for the indentations instead of working the space bar until the desired place is reached, or by using both hands to release the carriage and move it to its desired place. Some machines are equipped with a key marked "ribbon" key. This key, when pressed, lowers the ribbon so that no impression from it is made on the paper. When the ribbon is removed, stencils may be cut with the letters for mimeographic work. These are only two examples. There are many automatic aids on each make of machine. =258. Interchangeable-Type Typewriters.= On these machines, the type is not placed at the end of a shaft, but the complete set of letters is put on a semi-circular plate which is attached to a wheel which brings the desired letter to the point wanted when the key is pressed (Fig. 146). [Illustration: FIG. 146. Hammond interchangeable typewriter.] The change of type can be made very easily so that with the proper semi-circular plate any one of several languages may be written on this kind of typewriter regardless of the characters used to represent the letters. Charts of the keyboard are furnished with each set of letters to guide the operator in writing. This machine requires the same general care as other typewriters. =259. Care of Typewriters.= 1) Read the directions for cleaning and oiling the machine. Keep them for future reference. 2) Do not attempt to take the machine apart. Only readjust parts for which such directions are given. 3) Use only the best grade of typewriter oil, and oil only where indicated. The average machine does not require oiling oftener than from ten to fourteen days. 4) Brush the entire machine each day before using. This prevents the accumulation of oil and dust, which retards the free action of the machine, and rusts or clogs the bearings and other parts. 5) Use a stiff brush to clean the type. If the type has become gummed with ink from lack of care, moisten the brush with alcohol or gasoline, and brush it until clean. Avoid cleaning the type with a sharp instrument, if possible, as it mars the edges. However, in case of the letters having an enclosed parts, such as _c_, _d_, _e_, _b_, _g_, _p_, _a_, _s_, _c_, _q_, it may require the careful removal of the deposit with a pin. After this treatment, the type should be well brushed. Keep machine covered when not in use. With proper care, a machine should stay in good order indefinitely. If, in any way, any part of a machine is out of adjustment, have an expert readjust it. =260. The Hectograph.= The hectograph is one of the simplest devices for obtaining duplicate copies of written work (Fig. 147). It is a sheet like heavy paper or pad of jelly-like substance on which a reversed copy of the writing can be made and from which copies can be taken. The original copy is written with hectograph ink on smooth paper by hand, or on a typewriter, and allowed to dry. This copy is placed face downward on the hectograph pad, which has been moistened and rubbed to insure the contact at all places. It is allowed to remain here for three or four minutes. More time is required in cold weather, as the absorption of ink by the pad is slower. The paper is then removed, leaving a reversed impression on the hectograph plate. Copies are then made by placing dry paper on the impression and removing them instantly. Twenty copies may be taken. The plate should be washed in lukewarm water immediately after use. The hectograph plate should be about the temperature of an ordinary room; chilled plates produce faint prints. Never use cold water on the plate. Keep pen flowing freely when writing the original copy, by wiping it frequently. Keep the hectograph covered when not in use. [Illustration: _Fig. 147._ Hectograph.] =261. Mimeograph and Multigraph.= The mimeograph (Fig. 148) is a more complicated device for reproducing duplicates than the hectograph, but more copies may be made at faster speed on this machine and the stencils may be saved for making more copies later. A stencil (tissue paper, usually blue, fastened to a sheet of equal size waxed cardboard) is cut by a typewriter. This is done by removing the ribbon and allowing only the outline of the type to cut thru the tissue which has been saturated with "Dermax," a liquid wax which is brushed over the surface of the waxed paper, and the tissue paper carefully smoothed out upon it. Some stencil paper or waxed sheets do not require this treatment of "Dermax"; instead a tissue or silk sheet is placed under the stencil paper. When the desired wording is cut, the cardboard is torn off at the perforated line, leaving the four holes which attach the stencil to the roller of the mimeograph machine. First see that the pad on the machine is well inked, and then fasten the stencil to the pins at the top of the roller and with bar at the bottom, seeing that it is smooth. [Illustration: FIG. 148. Mimeograph.] Set the adjustment which indicates the number of copies turned out, so that it is not necessary to count them while printing. (Full directions are printed on this adjustment.) Place the paper on the feed board, far enough down for the sheets to come in contact with the rollers which feed them in, and turn the handle. If the proportion of space at top is greater or less than desired, set the attachment for regulating the space. Full directions are printed on each attachment of most machines. See that the ink tank which is located inside the cylinder is kept full of the best ink. Ink the pad by pushing the brush across the inside of the perforated cylinder. Multigraphs differ from mimeographs in that they print the copy from type instead of thru a stencil. The type is set in a cylinder that is covered by an inked ribbon. Manuscripts printed by a multigraph look more like typewriting than those printed by a mimeograph. When turning out less than a thousand copies, the mimeograph will be found more economical on account of the small amount of time required in preparing the stencil. QUESTIONS FOR PART IX 1. By what means are dumbwaiters operated? 2. Can you see any relation between the construction of door stops and force pumps? 3. What is the power for rolling up a window shade? 4. What does lock-stitch look like? How does chain-stitch differ from lock-stitch? 5. In what way do lock-stitch machines differ from chain-stitch machines? 6. What are the advantages of each? What are the disadvantages? 7. What is the tension? How is it adjusted? How is the length of stitch adjusted? 9. In what ways is an automobile engine like the gasoline engine and the electric motor used in rural homes for operating household machinery? 10. What is the shape of the knives on a lawn mower that makes it cut the same as a pair of scissors? 11. What may be the reasons for scissors not cutting as they should? 12. What are the essential features of a good incubator? 13. What is a thermostat? How does it work? Are thermostats of any use to the housewife on any other device than the incubator? 14. What mechanical factors are embodied in a typewriter? Find the pulley, the levers, the springs, etc. 15. What are the differences in a hectograph, a mimeograph and multigraph? PART X MOTORS, FUELS, AND GAS PLANTS CHAPTER XXXVII TREADLES AND WATER MOTORS =262. Definition of Motor.= A motor is a device for utilizing the power stored in gasoline, electricity or elevated water for doing work. The structure of the motor depends upon the source of its power, as does its name. Besides the motor, there is a treadle, or foot-power motor, used in the home. [Illustration: FIG. 149. Water motor.] =263. The Treadle.= The treadle is a small platform, which rocks on two pivots. As the treadle is rocked, it moves a rod attached to its outer edge, upward and downward. This rod is then attached to a wheel a short distance from the hub, so that the upward and downward motion of the shaft turns the wheel. When a belt is attached to the wheel, it will run a sewing machine or other small device. =264. Water Motors.= Water motors are commonly used in the household on washing machines and pumps (Figs. 149 and 149-_a_.) At least twenty-five pounds of water pressure is required to run an average-size washer. More pressure is advantageous. The motor may be, and often is, attached to tanks in which water is held under pressure, and used to pump water from a cistern or well. [Illustration: FIG. 149-_a_. "Reliable" water motor.] =265. Selecting a Water Motor.= Before purchasing any device to be operated by a water motor, ascertain how much water pressure you have available. Under enough pressure, the water from a faucet will give power enough to a small-sized water motor to run a washing machine, sewing machine or small feed grinders. These motors are usually less than one-half horse power. [Illustration: FIG. 150. Sectional view of water motor.] [Illustration: FIG. 150-_a_. Water motor assembled and in parts.] =266. Two Types of Water Motors.= One type of water motor is made up of a piston and valves in a cylinder (Fig. 150). The water pushes the piston to a certain point when a valve opens and lets out the water. The piston then moves backward until it automatically opens another valve, letting in more water, which, in turn, pushes the piston forward and again to the point where the first valve opens. The motion of the piston must be strong enough to do the work. About twenty-five pounds of water pressure is required in moving the piston forward when attached to a machine which might be operated by hand by a woman. Another type of water motor consists of cups or fans on the rim of a wheel. As the water flows over the wheel, it pushes it around, thus giving it power to do work provided there is enough pressure behind the water (Fig. 150-_a_). CHAPTER XXXVIII ENGINES; MOTORS AND BATTERIES; FUELS =267. Gasoline Engines.= A gasoline engine (Fig. 151) should be operated out of doors or in a well-ventilated room, except in cases where the exhaust pipe is carried thru the wall of the building to the outside. The fumes may cause illness, or even death, to any one staying in the room. A gasoline engine should be mounted on a substantial base of concrete or heavy timbers, or on a well-built truck, and should be put in good order before the woman or girl begins to use it. The engine must be level. If more than one device is attached to it, be sure to use the right pulleys on the engine and the machine to be operated. An engine is usually equipped with pulleys of two or more sizes. The size of the wheel on the washing machine or vacuum cleaner must be of a size to make the desired number of revolutions per minute. =268. Figuring Speed of Pulleys.= For example, if the speed of the engine is 425 revolutions per minute and the diameter of the pulley on the engine is 12 inches, and the machine is to be run at 150 revolutions per minute, have a pulley on the machine of a diameter which equals 425 times 12, or 5,100 divided by 150, or 34 inches. It would be more convenient to have a smaller pulley on this machine. Since there is a smaller wheel on the engine which, we will say, is 6 inches in diameter, put the belt on the smaller wheel, and then a wheel only 17 inches in diameter will be needed on the machine. [Illustration: FIG. 151. Sectional view of gasoline engine.] =269. Operating the Engine.= One person should be responsible for the care of an engine. Starting the engine is usually too heavy work for most women. Since a man usually starts a gas engine which the women are to use, it is more important that they know how to stop the engine and to recognize when it is not running properly. A cold engine can be started easier if warmed with hot water. Running an engine which is out of order may damage it seriously. Have some one show you how to operate your engine. Stop it when not running properly. =270. Points in Caring for Engine.= The following are points to keep in mind when operating an internal combustion engine: 1) Black smoke issuing from the exhaust pipe means there is not enough air in proportion to fuel. 2) When an engine misses more explosions than it should, or backfires, the cause is likely to be too much air in the fuel. 3) If the mixture of fuel and air is in the proper proportion, but there is too little of it, the engine will have no power. 4) Premature ignition may be caused by deposition of carbon or soot on the walls of the cylinder; the compression being too high for the fuel used; overheating of the piston, or exhaust valve, or of some poorly-jacketed part. 5) Using too much or a poor quality of lubricating oil, or a mixture too rich in fuel, causes deposition of carbon on the cylinder. 6) The use of too much cylinder oil is indicated by a blue smoke issuing from the exhaust. 7) Pre-ignition, or a bearing out of order, or the engine not being securely fastened to its foundation, causes pounding. 8) Too much water in the oil used for fuel causes white smoke to issue from the exhaust pipe. This may be caused by a leaky jacket on gasoline engines. 9) Stop the engine by shutting off the supply of fuel. Open the switch to the ignition system. Close the lubricators and oil cups, and turn off the jacket water. 10) In cold weather, drain off the jacket water to prevent freezing. 11) Always leave the engine clean and in order to start again. 12) For safety, belts and wheels should be boxed in wherever possible. Fig. 151 should be studied closely for a better understanding of the engine. =271. Generating Electricity for Homes.= Water motors, kerosene, gas and gasoline engines are the sources of power commonly used to generate electricity for private homes. A device for generating electricity is called a dynamo (Fig. 152). The electricity generated is either used directly while the engine is running, or it is stored in storage batteries. From here it is conducted thru wires and used for lighting, heating and turning motors to do work. =272. Batteries.= Batteries are used mainly where a small amount of current is needed, as on oil or gasoline engines, to make the spark to ignite the gasoline or oil, and in lighting gas and acetylene lamps, and for some door bells. There are several kinds of batteries, as liquid, dry-cell and storage. =273. Liquid Batteries.= In liquid batteries, electric current is generated by means of direct chemical action between an acid and two other substances, one more easily attacked by the acid than the other (Fig. 153), such as zinc and copper. This forms a simple cell, one form of primary battery. When the chemicals and metals in a primary battery are exhausted, they can be replaced with new metal or solution. [Illustration: FIG. 152. Electric generator.] =274. A Dry-Cell Battery.= A dry-cell is another form of battery. In these, the moisture of the acid substance is absorbed by some material like plaster-of-Paris flour or blotting paper, so that it can act on the metals or carbon in the cell and still make a cell easily transportable. The absorbed moisture in dry cells slowly evaporates, and then they become worthless. These batteries are usually thrown away after they have been used and have ceased to generate electricity. =275. Storage Batteries.= Storage batteries differ from primary batteries in that current must be supplied to them from some outside source, such as a dynamo. They can be recharged again after the current in them has been used (Fig. 154). [Illustration: FIG. 153. Primary battery.] [Illustration: FIG. 154. Storage battery.] The engines for private homes where a light plant is used are adjusted to charge batteries at the proper rate--but the owner should charge these batteries at regular intervals. They can be charged only by direct current. Never allow the storage battery to run down to a voltage lower than 1.15 per cell. This reading is taken from the voltmeter supplied with the plant. Storage batteries should be tested by a hydrometer for the specific gravity of the electrolyte or liquids in them. Instructions for this and for correcting the specific gravity accompany the plant. Take care to preserve them. Dynamos for home use are almost automatic. Run the dynamo to renew the batteries when using electric irons or other devices calling for more current than the lighting fixtures. Each plant is designed to carry a certain load of equipment. Exceeding this, damages the plant. Place electric motors and dynamos in a dry, cool, clean place. =276. Some Uses for Electric Motors.= Motors are now used on sewing machines, washing machines, dish washers, vacuum cleaners, wringers, fans, refrigerating systems, pumps, grinders, freezers, churns and separators. They are made either for direct or alternating current. When purchasing a motor, be sure to designate the type of current with which it is to be used. Select motors of the right size to operate the machine. It costs more to operate a large motor on a small device than a small motor. =277. Definition Tables.= A British thermal unit is the amount of heat required to warm one pound of water one degree Fahrenheit. The flash point of an oil is that temperature at which it will form an inflammable vapor. The accompanying table shows amount of heat generated from a number of sources. The total heat in a gallon of kerosene is greater than that in a gallon of gasoline because the kerosene is heavier than the gasoline. A gallon of gasoline will give on an average but about five-sixths as much total heat as a gallon of kerosene. This is approximately true, whether the heaviest grades of kerosene are compared with the heaviest grades of gasoline, or the lightest grade of kerosene is compared with the lightest grade of gasoline. Distillate is the refuse left from the distillation of petroleum. The flash point of kerosene may be between 70 and 150 degrees Fahrenheit, depending upon the grade. For illuminating purposes, do not use kerosene with the flash point lower than 120 degrees Fahrenheit. The flash point of gasoline is 10 to 20 degrees Fahrenheit; that is, gasoline will form an imflammable vapor at temperatures as low as this. Between 60 and 70 per cent of the common fuels are utilized in the generation of steam for heating purposes. TABLE SHOWING GENERATION OF HEAT ===========+====================+================ AMOUNT | FUEL | B. T. U. -----------+--------------------+---------------- 1 lb. | Anthracite coal | 13,200-13,900 1 lb. | Bituminous coal | 12,000-15,000 1 lb. | Lignite coal | 8,500-11,400 1 lb. | Wood | 8,200- 9,200 1 cu. ft. | Natural gas | 900- 1,000 1 cu. ft. | Illuminating gas | 500- 600 1 lb. | Kerosene | 18,000 1 lb. | Alcohol | 12,000 1 lb. | Gasoline | 19,000 1 K.W.-hr. | Electricity | 3,400 -----------+--------------------+------------ One pound ice in being melted will absorb 144 B. T. U. CHAPTER XXXIX GAS PLANTS =278. Gasoline-Gas Plants.= Gasoline-gas plants are devices for generating gas from gasoline. The gas is a mixture of air and gasoline vapor. It is made by air being forced thru gasoline. There are small plants which can be installed in private homes (Fig. 155). Gasoline vaporizes at ordinary temperature. The vapor or gas produced can be used for heating, lighting and running gas engines. [Illustration: FIG. 155. Gasoline gas plant.] One gallon of gasoline, when entirely vaporized, produces about thirty-two cubic feet of gas. Its heating power depends upon the character of the gasoline utilized and the temperature at which it is kept during vaporization. The plant is a device for forcing air thru the gasoline to make it vaporize as fast as wanted. Combined with the carburetor is a storage tank for the gas. A weight, or water motor, furnishes the power most commonly used in forcing the air thru the gasoline and forms a part of the plant. Air cannot flow thru the gasoline when the storage tank is full of gas so that the power is only in operation when the gas is being used or the tank is not quite full. =279. Acetylene-Gas Plant.= Acetylene is often used in rural homes when gas or electricity are not available. The operation of the plant often has to be attended to by a member of the family. A capable woman can do this, but she must be careful and must thoroly understand the plant (Fig. 156). [Illustration: FIG. 156. Acetylene gas plant.] The materials used in making acetylene are calcium carbide and water. Calcium carbide (_A_, Fig. 156) is made from lime and coke fused together in an electrical furnace. It must be kept stored in a dry place. The plants for making acetylene are inexpensive enough to be installed in individual homes of moderate means. Calcium carbide for making the gas can be transported without difficulty. There are two types of machines. In one the water drips on the carbide; in the other, the more common type, the carbide is dropped into the water. As soon as the carbide touches the water, it gives off acetylene gas. The gas is caught in and fills a bell above the water. As it fills the bell, it raises it, and when the bell reaches a certain height, it trips a lever to the door which lets in the carbide and closes it. When the gas is used, the bell goes down and, passing the lever, opens the door to let in a small amount of carbide. Improvements have been made in the plants and in installing them until there is less danger from explosions than formerly. Great care should be taken in operating them to avoid accidents. Since the gas is highly explosive, fire, lighted lamps and cigars must be kept away from the vicinity of all acetylene plants. Only one person should take the care of the plant, the others should understand how. =280. Directions for Operating Acetylene Plant.= 1) Charge by daylight--remove all residuum, and fill with fresh water before adding any carbide. 2) Follow exact directions for the machine used in the order directed. =281. Cautions to Be Observed in Using Acetylene Gas.= 1) Do not apply a light to any opening that is not equipped with a regular acetylene burner tip. 2) See that any workman repairing a generator first removes carbide and drains all water out, and disconnects it from piping and removes it to the open air, where he then fills all compartments with water to force out gas before using soldering irons. 3) An open light should never be permitted nearer than ten feet from the generator. The generator should never be nearer than fifteen to twenty feet from furnace or stove. Do not hunt for gas leaks with a flame or light. [Illustration: FIG. 157. Pressure tank for gas.] 4) Do not use any artificial light except electric light when cleaning or repairing generator, or carry a lighted pipe or other fire about it, even when empty. 5) If water in any chamber should freeze, do not attempt to thaw it with anything but hot water. 6) Keep the motor oiled. Oil once in six months. =282. Compressed Gases and Oils.= Gases, such as Blau gas, Pintsch gas, and prestolite gas which is compressed acetylene gas, are compressed in strong tanks and sold for use in lighting and light housekeeping. Gasoline and alcohol also are occasionally stored in very strong tanks under enough pressure to make them flow thru very small pipes to the point where they are wanted for use. These are frequently used for lighting isolated public buildings, such as rural schoolhouses. As the gas or oil is used, the pressure diminishes. There is usually a pump attached to the tank to pump in air in order to keep up the pressure. The pump is similar to a bicycle pump (Fig. 157). QUESTIONS FOR PART X 1. What is the difference between the treadle and a motor-power machine? 2. How is power secured from water in a water motor? Or what is the source of power utilized by a water motor? 3. How do you determine the size of pulleys to use on the gasoline engine and on the device it is to operate? 4. What are some indications that a gasoline engine or automobile motor is not running properly? 5. What are the kinds of batteries, and to what uses is each best suited? 6. Do batteries need care? If so, what care? 7. How is acetylene gas made? Describe the device for making it. 8. How is gas for household use made from gasoline? PART XI MEASURING DEVICES CHAPTER XL SCALES FOR WEIGHING =283. Equal-Arm Balances.= Scales are devices for determining the weight of objects. Balances--one form of scales--are made of two arms of equal lengths and supplied with discs of metal of a known weight to be placed on one arm of the balance while the material to be weighed is put on the other. When the two arms are in equilibrium, the weight of the material is equal to the weight of the metal. Since the weight of the metal is known, or can be determined, by adding together the weights of the discs used, the weight of the material is known to be the same. =284. Unequal-Arm Balances.= Equal-arm balances are not convenient for weighing large objects. For this reason, scales are made with one arm of the balance much longer than the other. The metal discs are then marked with the weight of the material on the short arm which they can balance when placed on the long arm. This is the usual form of counter and household balances. On these scales is also a weight which slides along the arm and is used to determine weights smaller than five or ten pounds. The arm of the balance is, therefore, marked at the point where this weight will balance certain amounts of material, such as half ounces, ounces and pounds. =285. Spring Scales.= Spring scales depend on the action of a spring, to which an indicating pointer is attached. When there is no weight on the spring, the place to which the indicator points is marked zero. When these scales are manufactured, a pound weight is placed so that it pulls on the spring and the indicator is pulled down to another place, and this is marked one. Scales are thus marked for the number of pounds they are to weigh. The spaces between the pounds marked are divided into equal divisions, such as sixteenths which indicates ounces. These scales cannot be relied on for accuracy, for springs stretch or become weaker as they are used. Avoirdupois is the weight in common use for marketing, while many tables for calculating dietaries are in the metric system. The housewife can have her balances corrected for weighing by the city or county sealer of weights and measures so that she can ascertain whether or not her food purchases are correctly weighed. TABLE OF WEIGHTS AVOIRDUPOIS METRIC 16 oz.--1 pound 1 milligram--1/1000 .001 gram 100 lb.--1 hundred-weight 1 centigram--1/100 .01 gram 2000 lbs.--1 ton 1 decigram--1/10 .1 gram 0.035 oz.--1 gram (Metric system) Gram--1 gram Dekagram--10 grams APOTHECARIES Hectogram--100 grams 27-11/32 grams--1 dram Kilogram--1000 grams 16 drams--1 oz. CHAPTER XLI DEVICES FOR MEASURING VOLUME =286. Graduate and Measuring Cup.= Graduate holding up to four fluid ounces is helpful to use to check up liquids bought in bottles. The standard measuring cup referred to in modern cook books holds half a pint of liquid. It also holds about sixteen level tablespoonfuls of dry material such as sugar. The divisions on glass cups are less likely to be accurate than on metal ones, as the bottom may be thick or thin unless carefully made. In selecting a cup, see that the bottom section is equal to the other sections. 1 cup = 2 gills = 1/2 pint = 16 tablespoons = 48 teaspoons = 8 fluid ounces. 1 cup is also 1/4 of a quart and about 4/17 of a liter. =287. Tablespoons.= Tablespoons vary in size. The size chosen for measuring is the one in most common use and holds about three level teaspoonfuls of material like sugar or flour. 1 tablespoon = 4 drams of liquid = 3 teaspoons. 4 tablespoons = 1/4 cup = 2 fluid ounces. =288. Teaspoons.= Teaspoons vary in size, but the spoon in common use is the one understood as the measure in cookery. It holds about one and one-third fluid drams. =289. Standard Measuring Spoons.= Standard measuring spoons in sets can be purchased at a very moderate price. They are particularly valuable for checking the capacity of the spoons more commonly used. =290. Liquid and Cooking Measures.= 1 teaspoonful = 1-1/3 fluid drams 3 teaspoonfuls = 1 tablespoonful= 4 drams 2 tablespoonfuls = 1 fluid ounce 1/2 cup = 1 gill 2 gills = 1 cupful = 8 fluid ounces 16 tablespoonfuls = 1 cupful 2 cupfuls = 1 pint 2 pints = 1 quart = 4 cupfuls 4 quarts = 1 gallon 4.23 cupfuls = 1 liter 1000 cubic centimeters = 1 liter 1.06 liquid quarts = liter 31-1/2 gallons = 1 barrel 1 milliliter = one-thousandth (.001) liter 1 centiliter = one-hundredth (.01) liter 1 deciliter = one-tenth (.1) liter Liter = 1 liter 1 dekaliter = ten (10) liters 1 hectoliter = one hundred (100) liters 1 kiloliter = 1 thousand (1000) liters =291. Dry Measures.= It is wise for a housewife to have a set of dry measures, consisting of a pint, quart, gallon, peck and half-bushel measure. A quart or gallon liquid measure is not equal to the dry one. It holds less. The diameter of dry measures should be as follows: DIAMETERS OF DRY MEASURES MEASURE DIAMETER 1 pint 4 inches 1 quart 5-3/8 inches 2 quarts 6-5/8 inches 1/2 peck 8-1/2 inches 1 peck 10-7/8 inches 1 bushel 13-3/4 inches *These diameters allow for proper heaping. DRY MEASURE* 2 pints = 1 quart 8 quarts = 1 peck 4 pecks = 1 bushel 1 sack of flour = 24-1/2, 49 or 98 pounds 4 49-pound sacks of flour = 1 barrel 1 barrel of flour = usually 196 pounds 60 pounds of potatoes = usually 1 bushel *State laws differ somewhat regarding the number of pounds in a bushel of various fruits and vegetables. =292. Cubic, Square and Linear Measure.= CUBIC MEASURE 1728 cubic inches = 1 cubic foot 27 cubic feet = 1 cubic yard 128 cubic feet = 1 cord SQUARE MEASURE 144 square inches = 1 square foot 9 square feet = 1 square yard 30-1/4 square yards = 1 square rod 160 square rods = 1 acre 640 acres = 1 square mile LINEAR MEASURE 12 inches = 1 foot 3 feet = 1 yard 5280 feet = 1 mile 39.27 inches = 1 meter METRIC MEASURES Millimeter = one-thousandth (.001) meter Centimeter = one-hundredth (.01) meter Decimeter = one-tenth (.1) meter Unitemeter = 1 meter Dekameter = ten (10) meters Hectometer = one hundred (100) meters Kilometer = 1 thousand (1000) meters CHAPTER XLII GAS, WATER, AND ELECTRIC METERS =293. Different Kinds of Meters.= The housewife has need to be familiar with three kinds of meters--water, gas and electric. These are devices for measuring water, gas or electric current. =294. Construction of a Gas Meter.= The interior of one type of gas meter (Fig. 158) is somewhat like a water wheel--the pressure of the gas pushes the wheel around. Every time a compartment full of gas passes a certain point, the gas flows out and the flange on the wheel trips a lever which moves the hand of the dial ahead, thus counting the emptying of the compartment. The gas in the compartment back of this then moves to this place. The emptied compartment is filled with more gas as it passes the inlet. [Illustration: FIG. 158. Gas meter.] [Illustration: FIG. 159. Water meter.] =295. Reading the Gas Meter.= A gas meter is a device for measuring the number of cubic feet of gas which flows thru a pipe. Small dials with the numbers from one to ten and a hand for an indicator show the number of single feet, tens of feet, and thousands of feet, which have passed thru the meter. The reading on any date is the total amount of gas which has passed thru. To tell how much has passed thru the meter during any period of time, take the reading of the meter on the first date, as indicated in Fig. 158, and then take the reading on the later date and subtract reading one from reading two--the resulting figure is the amount of gas passing thru the meter between these two dates. When buying gas, always keep the readings of meters at the time when the gas man takes them. Gas meters often register more or less gas than is actually consumed. Gas companies are allowed a variation or tolerance of one per cent fast or slow, to two per cent fast or slow. Gas is paid for at a stated rate per thousand feet in most places. =296. Water Meters.= The water meter (Fig. 159) is a device for measuring the number of gallons or cubic feet of water which pass thru a pipe. The reading of the meter indicates the total amount of water which has passed thru the pipe since the meter was installed. Water is paid for, unless purchased at a flat rate, at so many cents a thousand gallons or thousand cubic feet. One cubic foot is called in commercial transactions 7-1/2 gallons. [Illustration: FIG. 160. Electric meter.] =297. Prepayment Meters.= Prepayment meters are devices which will permit a certain amount of gas or water, as the case may be, to pass thru a pipe, and after this amount is used up, the pipe is automatically closed so that no more flows until more money is put into the meter. The weight of the coin works the valve. [Illustration: FIG. 160-_a_. Electric meter showing different readings.] =298. The Electric Meter.= Electricity is usually purchased by the kilowatt hour, and measured by the watt-hour meter (Fig. 160). This measures the current passing thru it, and the number of kilowatt-hours is shown by the indicators on the little dials. Start from left and read the number on the dial, such as in the illustration, 3 hundreds 4 tens 9 units, making 349 kilowatt-hours; the total kilowatt-hours used since the meter was installed. To find the number used between two dates, take the reading of the meter on the first date and subtract it from the reading on the second date. The difference is the amount used during the period. Good business women keep records of the readings of their meters. Care must be taken to read the meter correctly. The hand next higher than the one below may read too high. The higher hand may, if out of alignment, pass the figure when the lower hand approaches the ninth point in its dial, this causing the person to read the figures one, ten, hundred or thousand units too much. (Fig. 160-_a_.) CHAPTER XLIII THERMOMETERS AND THERMOSTATS =299. Mercury Thermometers.= There are two kinds of thermometers in use--the Fahrenheit and the Centigrade. Since the thermometer is used now in cooking, the housewife often has to meet the problem of translating temperatures from one to the other. The centigrade thermometer is marked on the assumption that the temperatures of boiling water and freezing water are constantly the same. The boiling point is marked 100, and the freezing point 0. The space in between is marked into even divisions and numbered 1 to 99. The Fahrenheit thermometer was made on the assumption that a mixture of ice and salt was the coldest temperature that could be reached, so this temperature of a certain proportion of ice and salt was marked zero. The hundred point was given to what was supposed to be the normal body temperature. The intervening spaces were marked into equal divisions, and these divisions were carried below 0 degree and above 100 degrees. The boiling temperature of water came at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, and the freezing point at 32 degrees. This makes 180 degrees difference between thawing and freezing and boiling. So 100 degrees Centigrade equal 180 degrees Fahrenheit. Therefore, 1 degree Centigrade equals 9/5 degrees Fahrenheit, and 1 degree Fahrenheit equals 5/9 degree Centigrade. For example, if 40 degrees Centigrade is to be translated into Fahrenheit degrees, first multiply 40 by 9 = 360, then divide by 5 = 72, and add 32, because 0 degree Centigrade is the same as 32 degrees Fahrenheit, and the result is 104 degrees Fahrenheit equal 40 degrees Centigrade. If 41 degrees Fahrenheit is to be translated into Centigrade degrees, first subtract 32 from 41 = 9, then multiply by 5 = 45, and divide by 9, and the result is 5 degrees Centigrade = 41 degrees Fahrenheit. Fig. 161 is a diagram showing relative readings of Fahrenheit and Centigrade thermometers. [Illustration: FIG. 161. Comparison of Centigrade and Fahrenheit.] =300. Oven Thermometer.= Some oven thermometers depend on the expansion of metal to indicate the temperature. A hand on the clock-like face of these indicators shows the degree of heat. Few of these give the actual temperature, but they do indicate a slow, a moderate and a hot oven. =301. Maximum Thermometers.= A maximum thermometer is one in which the mercury rises to register the maximum amount of heat to which it has been subjected. It stays at this height when the temperature falls, until it is shaken back. It is sometimes used in ovens to ascertain the temperature they have reached before the oven door is opened. TABLE OF TEMPERATURES USEFUL TO HOUSEKEEPERS OVEN TEMPERATURES =======================================+=========+========= | FAH. | CENT. ---------------------------------------+---------+--------- Slow oven | 250-350 | 121-177 | | Moderate | 350-400 | 177-204 | | Hot or quick | 400-450 | 204-232 | | Very hot | 450-550 | 232-287 ---------------------------------------+---------+--------- SYRUPS =======================================+=========+========= | FAH. | CENT. ---------------------------------------+---------+--------- Thin | 219- | 104- | | Medium--fondant | 236-240 | 113-115 | | Thick--fudge | -240 | 115- | | Heavy--taffy | -300 | 149- | | Clear brittle | -310 | 150- | | Carmel almond and nut brittle | -315 | 157- ---------------------------------------+---------+--------- MISCELLANEOUS =======================================+=========+========= | FAH. | CENT. ---------------------------------------+---------+--------- Incubators | 103 | 39.4 | | Body temperature | 98-99 | 37 | | Room temperature | -86 | 20-30 | | Refrigerator temperature | 44-59 | 5-15 | | Churning | 52-62 | 11-17 | | Growth of bacteria retarded | 35-70 | | | Growth of bacteria most rapid | 70-100 | | | Most bacteria are killed | 212 | | | Downward, markedly. Growth of bacteria | | retarded | 45 | ---------------------------------------+---------+------- =302. Thermostats.= Thermostats are devices which open or close valves or dampers in order to keep rooms, boilers, ovens, incubators, etc., at an even temperature. All metals expand on being heated, and contract on being cooled. Some expand more than others. Two materials which expand at different rates are frequently used in making thermostats. Any certain temperature causes a given piece of metal to expand to a certain size, or to contract on cooling to a different size. Some thermostats are made of a straight rod of metal like copper which expands more than iron when heated. The rod is so placed that when cool it will allow fuel like gas or oil to pass thru a pipe, and when heated, it will expand enough to close the pipe, shutting off the fuel. They are placed so that they close the pipe at the temperature desired for an oven or supply of hot water. Other thermostats are more complicated, as the expanding metal moves a series of levers. These thermostats are used to regulate dampers on coal and wood furnaces, when they are placed in the rooms to be heated. They are often used on other devices, such as incubators. Still others control an electric current. When the metal expands, it closes the circuit, causing the electricity to do the work desired. When it contracts, it opens the circuit. Thermostats can be set to do work at different temperatures. These are sometimes attached to clocks which, with a device similar to the alarm, will change the indicator of the thermostat so as to set it from one temperature to another at a stated time for which the clock is set and turn it back at another hour. CHAPTER XLIV HYDROMETERS AND BAROMETERS =303. Hydrometer=. A hydrometer is used in gaging the density of liquid. This instrument consists of a closed glass tube which is enlarged at the lower end and filled with some heavy material like mercury or shot, to keep it in an upright position when in liquids. The tube or stem contains a paper on which divisions called degrees are marked. The _0_ mark is usually the point reached by the surface of distilled water when the hydrometer is placed in this liquid. The less the density of the liquid, the lower the hydrometer sinks, for it displaces an amount of liquid equal to its own weight. The density of the liquid then can be determined by observing the mark to which it sinks. Specific-gravity hydrometers used in the household show the ratio of the weight of a given volume of liquid to the weight of the same volume of water at a definite temperature. Arbitrary scale hydrometers are used to indicate the concentration or strength of syrup, brines or milk. These are defined as lactometers and Baume hydrometers. A brine hydrometer is called a saltometer, and a syrup gage a sacchrometer. A jellometer, especially for making jelly, is sometimes used instead of a sacchrometer. The scale on this tells how much sugar to use in proportion to the amount of solids in the fruit juice without having to refer to a table. Some hydrometers are constant-volume hydrometers, and on these weights are placed always, to sink the hydrometer to the same depth in the liquid. TABLES FOR BRIX AND BALLING HYDROMETERS WHEN USED AT 20° C.* ==================+========================================= | SUGAR TO A QUART OF FRUIT JUICE TO MAKE READING ON THE | JELLY HYDROMETER +---------------------+------------------- Degrees | Pounds | Ounces ------------------+---------------------+------------------- 5. | | 8. 5.5 | | 9. 6.0 | | 9.6 6.5 | | 10.7 7.0 | | 11.6 7.5 | | 12.4 8.0 | | 13.2 8.5 | | 14.1 9.0 | | 15.0 9.5 | | 15.8 10.0 | 1. | 7.0 ------------------+---------------------+------------------- *When the reading for the fruit juice is determined the table shows how much sugar is used for juice of that specific gravity. TABLE SHOWING AMOUNT OF SUGAR PER GALLON ==================+=====================+=================== READING ON THE | SUGAR TO A GALLON OF WATER HYDROMETER +---------------------+------------------- Degrees | Pounds | Ounces ------------------+---------------------+------------------- 0. | | 0.0 5. | | 7.0 10. | | 14.8 15. | 1. | 7.5 20. | 1. | 14.75 25. | 2. | 12.5 30. | 3. | 9.0 35. | 4. | 7.75 40. | 5. | 8.75 45. | 6. | 13.00 50. | 8. | 5.25 55. | 10. | 4.00 60. | 12. | 8.0 ------------------+---------------------+------------------- In the second table the readings show the specific gravity of the syrup, and from that may be ascertained the proportion of sugar to a gallon of water in it. A 250 cc. cylinder, or other tall vessel deep enough to float the sacchrometer, is suitable for making the measurements. Be sure to have the eye on the level of the liquid when making the readings. If no sugar is in the water, the reading on the hydrometer will be near zero. If there is sugar in the proportion of seven ounces to a gallon of water, the reading will be at the line marked 5. SYRUPS FOR CANNING Berries --30 degrees, or 3-1/2 pounds of sugar to 1 gallon of water Sweet cherries--30 degrees Sour cherries --40 degrees Peaches --30 to 40 degrees Pears --20 to 30 degrees Plums --40 degrees [Illustration: FIG. 162. Barometer.] =304. Hygroscopes.= Hygroscopes are devices for measuring humidity. Forty-five to sixty per cent humidity is desirable in a house. This means forty-five to sixty per cent as much water as the air is capable of taking up at room temperature. Cold air is usually dryer than warmer air because cold air cannot take up as much humidity as warm air. This is analogous to the fact that warm water will dissolve more of some salts or of sugar than cold water. =305. Barometers.= Barometers (Fig. 162) are devices which show changes in pressure and currents of air. Changes in the barometer usually indicate changes in the weather, and thus they are of interest to all persons. A decided fall in the mercury of a barometer usually precedes foul weather, while a rise indicates the approach of fair weather. When the pressure is low in any locality, air begins to rush toward that point as it would to fill a vacuum. So a fall in the barometer precedes the coming of a high wind or a rainstorm. A rise in the barometer precedes a calm, and since most rain is accompanied with wind, the calm is a time of fair weather. INDEX A Absorption of heat and light, 84, 85, 108 Acetylene, 30, 49, 81, 91, 92, 145, 221, 222, 223 Acids, 155, 156, 157, 159, 216 Acre, 229 Adjustment of burners, stove, 24, 29, 30, 32, 34, 41, 49, 78, 79, 80 Air, for circulation, 57, 76, 101, 102, 103, 111, 198 dead or stagnant, 63, 102 for combustion, 16, 29, 31, 38, 39, 48, 66, 88, 93, 214 for evaporation, 105, 176, 220, 221 for heating, 19, 55, 60, 61, 62, 63, 73, 75, 79 in radiator, 67, 68, 70 mixer, 23, 24, 25, 33, 77, 96, 144 moisture, 239 for pressure, 97, 112, 113, 114, 175, 176, 184 shaft, 57 whistling, 56 Alcohol, 47, 48, 89, 96, 97, 98, 145, 223 Alkalies, 155, 157 Alternating current, 110 Aluminum, 78, 156, 157, 158, 171, 172 Ammonia, 108, 138 Ampere, 82 Andiron, 74 Anthracite coal, 219 Asbestos, 32, 66, 77, 81 Ash chute, 22 Ashes, 20, 57, 66, 74, 75, 76 Automobile, 192 B Back-fire, 192, 214 Bacteria, 100, 101, 127 Balances, 225 Balling hydrometer, 238 Barometer, 239, 240 Barrel, 167, 228, 229 Basin, catch, 127 Battery, 192, 193, 194, 215, 216 Baume hydrometer, 237 Bearing, 152 Beater, 165 Bell for storing gases, 222 Bellows, 148, 149 Belts, 136, 137, 141, 186, 215 Bituminous coal, 219 Blau gas, 223 Bobbin, 187, 188, 189 Boiler, 64, 69, 71, 73, 132, 133, 156 Booster, 119 Bracket, curtain, 185 Brine for cooling, 108 British thermal unit, 218, 219 Brix hydrometer, 238 Broiler, 26 Brush, 147, 149, 150, 152 Bunsen burner, 77, 78, 81 Burner, 48, 96, 119, 141, 145, 198 gas, 23, 25, 27, 29, 77, 78, 88, 91, 144 kerosene, 32, 33, 36, 37, 40, 80, 94 Burning back, 27, 89, 90, 91 Burr grinder, 162 Bushel, 228, 229 C Calcium carbide, 221, 222, 223 Candle power, 84, 89, 91, 95 Canned heat, 48 Canner, 172, 173 Can sealer, 175 Capillary attraction, 47, 48, 93, 106 Carbolic acid, 126 Carbon, 82, 83, 84, 214 Carbon dioxide, 67, 108 Carburetor, 29, 192, 220 Carpet sweeper, 147, 148, 150 Cast aluminum, 156 Cast iron, 155, 156 Catch basin, 127 Centigrade thermometer, 233, 234 Centigram, 226 Centimeter, 228, 229 Centiliter, 228 Centrifugal dryer, 138, 139, 140 force, 139 washer, 135, 136 Cerium, 88 Cesspool, 124 Charcoal filter, 114 Chain stitch, 186 Cherry stoner, 161, 162 Check valve, 71, 183 Chimney, 18, 31, 33, 57, 59, 74, 75, 80, 93, 94, 111 Chloride of lime, 126 Choker, 192 Chopper, 162, 163 Churns, 165, 167, 235 Cistern, 114 Clamp, 138 Cleaning, 25, 35, 127, 172 Cleaning equipment, 147, 148, 149, 150, 152, 153 Clinkers, 76 Clock, 236 Clutch, 192 Coal, 20, 28, 66, 76 Coffee mill, 162 pot, 167, 168 Cog wheels, 165 Coils, 64, 78, 80 Coke, 222 Cold-process gasoline-gas, 29, 91, 145 Color and illumination, 84 Compressed-air pump, 113, 115, 117 Combustion, 16, 17, 23, 24, 58, 66, 74, 76, 77 Conductivity of materials, 156, 157, 158 Contraction of materials, 235 Cookers, 50, 51, 55, 56 Coolers, 105, 106, 108, 109 Copper, 158, 216, 236 Crank, 163 Cream separator, 178, 179 Cubic measure, 229 Cup, measuring, 227, 228 Current, electric, 42, 46, 80, 83, 86, 110, 143, 144, 215, 218, 232 Curtain roller, 185 Cylinder, 112, 113, 211 washer, 133 D Dampers, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 58, 61, 66, 74, 75, 197, 198, 235, 236 Decomposition of sewage, 124, 125, 127 Degree, 233, 234 Dekagram, 226 Dekaliter, 228 Dekameter, 229 Dermax, 206 Density of liquids, 237 Direct current, 110 Direct lighting, 85 Dish-washer, 170, 171 Disinfectant, 126, 200 Distillate, 40, 218 Dolly washer, 134 Doors, 103, 183, 184, 185, 215 Drafts, 16, 17, 18, 19, 57, 58, 59, 74 Drain, 103, 104, 122, 138 Dram, 226, 228 Drip pipe, 102, 103 Drip sheet, 25 Dryer, 171, 176 Dry-cleaning equipment, 140 Dry-cell battery, 215, 216 Dulling of edges, 159, 163 Dumbwaiters, 183 Dust, 76, 78, 80, 148, 150 Dynamo, 215, 216 E Earthenware, 107, 156 Egg tester, 201 Electric appliances, 42, 44, 46, 81 heating, 42, 43, 80, 119 measurements, 43, 82, 230, 232 Electric motors, 217 Electricity, 215, 219 Electrolyte, 217 Enameled ware, 157 Engine, gasoline, 137, 212 Evaporation, 67, 105, 106, 140 Exhaust pipe, 212, 214 Expansion of materials, 108, 234, 235 tank, 66, 67, 120 valve, 70 Explosions, prevented, 25, 35, 37, 39, 69 utilized, 192, 214, 222 Extractor, 139 F Fahrenheit thermometer, 233, 234 Fan, 110, 148, 177 Fastener, door, 184 Faucet, 109, 114, 116, 119, 120, 122 Feed plate, 187, 188, 189, 207 Filament for lamp, 83 Filter, water, 114, 116, 168 Fire, 18, 19, 34, 41, 66, 75 Fireless cooker, 50, 51 Fireplace, 74, 75 Fire-pot, 20, 57, 58, 65, 76 Flame, 23, 35, 38 Flame, blue, 31, 38, 49, 96 illuminating, 77, 78, 88, 89, 93, 94 Flash point, 218 Flat-iron, 142 Float for flushing tank, 129, 130 Flue, 66, 77 Force pump, 113, 117, 119 Freezer, 166, 167 Freezing, 68, 112, 126, 166, 233 Friction, danger from, 140 Fuel, 16, 58, 65, 76, 88, 119 economical use of, 19, 20, 28, 59, 66 Funnel, 133, 167, 168 Furnace, 57, 62, 63, 64, 75, 222 Fuses, 43, 46, 86, 144 G Gage, 67, 69, 70, 73, 117 Gage, steam, 72, 173 Gallon, 228 Gas, 26, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 58, 88, 108, 192, 199, 214, 215, 219, 221, 230 burners, 77, 79, 90, 144 consumption, 23, 28, 29, 66 formation, 96, 97, 98 kinds of, 29, 91, 220, 222, 223 Gasoline, 89, 97, 99, 140, 219, 223 burner, 37, 96 engine, 119, 137, 212, 215 Gasoline-gas, 29, 37, 91, 220 Gears, 192 Generation of heat and gas, 219, 220 Generator, 96, 97, 145, 223 Gill, 227, 228 Glass utensils, 156, 157, 158 Graduate, 227 Gram, 226 Granite ware, 156, 157 Grate, 16, 58, 65, 74, 76 Grater, 160 Gravity lamp, 96 Gravity, specific, 217, 237, 239 Grinder, 159, 162 H Heat, 29, 48, 89, 156, 158, 218 production of, 42, 140, 143, 200, 219 use of, 45, 50, 57, 69, 78, 80, 140, 143, 176 Heater, 65, 77, 79, 80, 81, 118, 119, 135, 141, 143, 196, 197 Hectograph, 205, 206 Hectoliter, 228 Hectometer, 229 Hinge, 184, 185 Homogenizer, 180 Horse power, 210 Hot-water furnace, 64 Hot-water tank, 117 Humidity, 239 Hundred-weight, 226 Hydrometer, 217, 237, 238, 239 Hygroscope, 239 I Ice, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 166, 219 Iceless refrigerator, 105, 106 Incubator, 196, 201, 235 adjustment of, 199 Ignition of gas, 140, 214, 215 Illumination, 28, 77, 78, 82, 84, 85, 88, 218, 219 Inch, 228, 229 Ink, 205, 208 Insulation, 19, 46, 50, 55, 57, 66, 102 Iron, 155, 156, 158, 236 Ironing board, 144 Irons, 142, 144, 145, 146 J Jars, fruit, 176 Jellometer, 237 Jugs, 107 K Kerosene lamps, 93, 95 oil, 28, 138, 219 stoves, 31, 79, 80 Kisselguhr filter, 114 Keyboard, 202, 204 Kilogram, 226 Kiloliter, 228 Kilometer, 229 Kilowatt, 82, 232 Kneading machine, 165 Knives, 159, 163, 196 Knocking, cause of, 71, 214 L Lard press, 163 Lamp, adjusting burners, 89, 90, 93, 94 electric, 82, 83, 84, 87 gas or oil, 91, 92, 94, 95, 96, 196, 198, 199, 215 Laundry tubs, 127 Lawn mower, 195 Lava tip, 89 Leather, preventing shrinking of, 112 Lever, 72, 154, 163, 190, 236 Light, 83, 84, 85, 86, 98 Lights, 82, 88, 98 Lighters, 28, 91, 215 Lighting, lamps, 89, 90, 94, 95 stoves, 25, 27, 33, 34, 37, 38, 78, 79, 80 Lighting plants, 86, 114 Lime, 221 Lining refrigerator, 101 Lignite coal, 219 Liquify, sewage, 124, 125 Liquids, 237 Liter, 227, 228 Locomotive washer, 135 Logs, gas, 78 Lock-stitch, 186, 188 Lubrication, 193 M Mangles, 141 Mantles for lamps, 88, 89, 90, 91, 95, 98 Manufactured gas, 78, 89, 91 Maximum thermometers, 234 Mazda lamps, 82, 83, 84 Measurements, 225 Melting ice, 103 Metal, conductivity of, 156, 158 Meter, 229, 230, 231, 232 Microbes, septic, 126 Mile, 229 Milligram, 226 Milliliter, 228 Millimeter, 226 Mimeograph, 206 Mixer, 165 Moisture, 200, 239 Mop wringer, 154 Motor, 108, 110, 133, 150, 186, 192, 209 care of, 214, 217 water, 137, 209, 210, 211, 220 Mower, 196 Multigraph, 206, 208 N Natural gas, 30, 89, 219 Needle, 187, 188, 191 Nickel, 158 Nozzle, 148, 149 O Oil, 31, 93, 110, 200, 214, 218, 223 Oil cups, 33, 35 Oscillating washer, 134, 135 Ounce, 226, 228 Oven, 19, 20, 26, 27, 42, 235 Overflow, 67, 119, 120, 122, 130 P Packing, 112, 122 Pans, 155, 156 Parers, 159, 160 Peck, 228, 229 Percolator, 168 Pet cock, 174, 175 Pilot light, 26, 27, 119 Pint, 227, 228, 229 Pintsch gas, 223 Pipe, stove, 58, 60, 61, 62 water or steam, 64, 66, 69, 70, 72 Pipes, 67, 78, 102, 103 Pipeless furnace, 63 Piston, 112, 148, 211, 214 Pivot, 166, 167, 209 Plate, mower, 195 Plug, electric, 143, 144 Plumber's pump, 123 Plumbing system, 115, 117 Pneumatic hinge, 184 lamp, 96 Porcelain filter, 114 Pots, 155, 156, 167, 168 Pound, 72, 226 Power, 82, 209, 210, 214 Prepayment meter, 231 Press, 163 Pressure, 72, 73, 78, 79, 82, 117, 137, 138, 146, 164, 171, 173, 209, 223 Pressure, air, 96, 97, 176 gage, 69, 117 Prestolite gas, 223 Pulley, 137, 185, 212 Pump, 108, 112, 113, 117, 123, 148, 168, 169, 209, 223 Q Quart, 227, 228 R Rack for canner, 172 Radiation of heat, 57, 61, 62, 79 Radiator, 64, 68, 69, 70, 71 Radiator, gas, 77, 78, 79 Reading meters, 231, 232, 238, 239 Reflector, 77, 78, 80, 81 Refrigerating plant, 108 Refrigeration, principles of, 100 Refrigerator, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105 Register, 60, 62, 75 Regulation, heat and pressure, 20, 60, 66, 70, 72, 73 Regulation of stoves, 24, 43, 44, 48 Regulator, temperature, 198, 199 Reservoir, 18 Resistance produces heat, 143 Revolutions of motor wheels, 137 Ribbon, typewriter, 203, 208 Roller, 138, 141, 142, 154, 162 Rotary washer, 134 S Saccrometer, 237, 239 Sack, flour, 229 Sadirons, 142 Safety devices, 45, 56, 71 Safety valve, 72, 79, 117, 119, 174, 175 Salt, 157, 166 Saltometer, 237 Scales, 226 Scissors, 196 Screw, 163 Seal for sewer pipe, 128 Seeder, 159, 161 Semi-indirect light, 86 Separators, cream, 178 Septic tank, 124, 125, 127 Sewage, 124, 125, 126 Sewer, 124, 127, 128 Sewing machine, 186, 191, 209 Shaft, 159, 186, 187, 202, 204, 209 cold-air, 57, 60, 63 Shears, 196 Sheet iron, 155, 156 Shutter, furnace pipe, 60 Shuttle, sewing machine, 188 Silicon, 158 Silver, 158, 171 Simmerer, 30 Siphon, 125, 129 Slicer, 159, 163 Smoke, 16, 20, 32, 34, 36, 57, 59, 66, 73, 74, 80, 89, 146, 214, 215, 246 Socket, electrical, 143 Soot, 17, 20, 32, 39, 66, 75, 78, 214 Sparks, electric, 110, 144 Specific gravity, 217, 237, 239 heat, 156, 158 Speed by use of wheels, 165, 212 Spiral, 163 Spoons, 157, 158, 227, 228 Spring, 59, 184, 185, 226 pulley, 183 Steam, 71, 79, 111, 133, 175, 219 pressure, 69, 70, 72, 73, 174, 175 Steam cooker, 56 valves and gages, 70, 72, 73, 173 Steel for cooking, 155 Stencil, 206 Stitch, 187, 188, 189, 191 Stones, fireless cooker, 50, 54 Stoner, 161 Storage tank, 113, 220 Storage battery, 215, 216, 217 Stove, 37, 47, 48, 49, 57, 58, 63, 65, 70 electric, 42, 44, 157 gas, 23 to 30, 144 heating, 75, 76, 78, 80, 141 Stove, wood and coal, 15, 22 Stoves, care of, 31, 34, 41, 44, 76, 78 Stuffer, 163, 164 Suction pump, 112, 113 washer, 132, 133, 169 Sweeper, carpet, 147, 148, 150 Switch, ignition, 192 Syrup, temperatures of, 235 T Tables, 85, 158, 219, 226, 227, 228, 229, 235, 238 Tablespoons, 227, 228 Tank, 30, 31, 35, 37, 39, 40, 64, 67, 96, 146, 220, 223 septic, 124, 125, 126, 127 water, 107, 109, 113, 117, 119, 128, 129, 130 Teaspoon, 227, 228 Temperature, 20, 51, 73, 101, 103, 105, 173, 196, 198, 200, 206, 220, 233, 236 Tempering of metal, 156 Tension, 187, 188, 189 Tester, egg, 201 Thawing, 233 Thermal unit, 218 Thermometer, 197, 199, 233, 234 Thermostat, 197, 198, 199, 200, 235, 236 Thorium, 88 Thread, 187, 188 Throttle, 192 Thumb-screw, 138, 174 Time for cooking food, 54 Timer, 193 Tin, 155, 156, 158 Ton, 226 Trap, 122, 128 Trays, 176, 197, 200 Treadle, 186, 209 Tungsten, 82, 83, 158 Type, 203, 204, 208 Typewriter, 202, 203, 206 U Utensils for cooking, 44, 155, 156 V Vacuum, 112, 176, 240 cleaner, 147, 148 Valve, 25, 26, 29, 33, 37, 52, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 90, 112, 113, 119, 120, 122, 129, 130, 145, 174, 183, 197, 211, 232, 235 Vapor, 40, 41, 145 Vent, radiator, 68 Ventilators, 110, 111, 197, 198, 200 Volt, 82 Voltage, 86, 110, 144, 217 W Warping, 76 Washboard, 134 Wash boiler, 172 Washers for valves, etc., 120 Washing equipment, care of, 136, 138, 139, 141, 142 Washing machines, 132, 133, 135, 136, 209 Waste, 76, 124 Water, 67, 102, 106 closets, 128 coolers, 105, 108 filters, 114 for cooling, 107, 215 for furnaces, 64, 66, 67, 68, 70, 71, 72, 81 heater, 118, 119 meter, 230 motors, 137, 209, 210, 211, 220 tanks, 119 -bath canner, 173 -seal canner, 173 Watt, 82, 84 Weight, 220, 226 Wells, 113, 125 Wheels, 137, 165, 211, 230 Whey separator, 180 Whistle, 56 Wick, 32, 35, 93, 94, 95, 98, 198 Wickless burner, 32, 33 Window, adjustment of, 63, 183 shades, 184 Wire, 43, 46, 110 Wood, 157, 219 Wringer, clothes, 138 mop, 154 Y Yard, 229 Z Zero, 233 INDEX OF ILLUSTRATIONS A Acetylene burner, 90 gas plant, 221 Adjusting gas light, 89 Air mixer, 24, 77 Alcohol iron, 145 Ash chute, 21 Automatic devices for heating water, 118 tension, 190 B Balance wheel, 186 Ball bearings, 152 Barometer, 239 Bath-tub overflow, 122 Battery, 217 Blower, 110 Bobbin shuttle, 188 spool, 188 thread, 188 winder, 186 worm wheel, 186 Boiler, washer for, 132 Booster, 120 Bread mixer, 165 Brush, electric cleaner, 151 carpet sweeper, 153 Bunsen burner, 89 Burner, acetylene, 90 Bunsen, 89 cleaning, 26 gasoline, 37, 38 gasoline-gas, 29 oil stove, 31, 34 C Cam, 213 Canner, pressure, 173 water-bath, 172 Can sealer, 175 Cap, sewing machine, 190 Carpet sweeper, 152, 153 Centigrade thermometer, 234 Centrifugal washer, 136 Chambers' fireless cooker range, 54 Check valve for door, 184 Cherry stoner, 160 Chimneys, lamp, 93 Circulation in refrigerator, 102 Cleaner, vacuum, 147, 150, 151, 152 Clean-out for cook stove, 15 Cloth plate, sewing machine, 190 Compressed-air pump, 114 Cooker, gas, 54 steam, 55 Cooking stove, 15, 25 Cooler for food, 106, 108 Crank shaft, 213 Cream separator, 179, 180 Curtain roller, 185 Cylinder washer, 134 D Dampers, 15, 17 Direct light, 83 Discs in separator, 180 Dish dryer, 172 washer, 170, 171 Door holder, 184 check valve, 184 Draft, 17 Dryer, 139, 176 E Egg tester, 200 Egg, appearance when tested, 201 Electric fan, 111 generator, 216 heater, 80 heating unit, 43 iron, 143 lighter, 91 meter, 232 plug, 144 stove, 42, 80 vacuum cleaner, 150, 151 Embroidery spring, 190 Engine, gasoline, 213 Expansion tank, 67 Exhaust valve, 213 F Fahrenheit thermometer, 234 Fan, 110, 111 Faucet showing parts, 122 Feed bar, sewing machine, 190 pipe, 31, 32, 33 Fireless cooker, 51, 53 Flames, clear and smoky, 35 Flushing tank, 130 Flywheel, 213 Force pump, 113, 119 Fruit press, 164 Fuel box, 21 Furnace, Garland hot-water, 64, 65, 67 pipeless, 61 steam, 69, 73 warm-air, 58, 59 Fuse on electric heating unit, 43 G Gage, water, 70 Gas, acetylene plant, 221 air mixer for, 24, 77 burner, 26 cooker, 54 heater, 77, 78 iron, 145 light, 89 logs, 79 meter, 230 oven, 27 radiator, 79 stove, 25, 77, 78 tank, 223 Gasoline burner, 37 engine, 213 -gas lamp, 97 -gas plant, 220 -stove, 38 Generator, 216 Governor, 213 Grate, 16, 21 Grinder, 160, 161, 162 H Heater, electric, 80 gas, 77, 78 hot-air, 62 hot-water, 65 oil, 80 reflector, 78 water, 118, 120, 121 Heating unit, 45 for electric stove, 43 Hectograph, 206 Holder, door, 184 Hinge, door, 185 Humidifier, 58 I Iceless refrigerator, 105 Ignitor, 213 Incubator, 197 lamps, 196 Indirect light, 86 Instantaneous water heater, 118 Insulation in cooker, 51 Iron, alcohol, 155 electric, 143 gas, 145 K Kerosene lamp, 94 oil heater, 80 Knives, mower, 195 L Lamp, 35, 93 electric, 83 gasoline, 97 incubator, 196 mantle for, 94 Lard press, 164 Lawn mower, 195 Lifter for fireless cooker stones, 53 Light, adjusting gas, 89 direct, 83 indirect, 86 pilot, 27 semi-indirect, 87 Lighter, gas stove, 28 electric, 91 Lining of fire box, 21 Lock-stitch machine, 186 Locomotive washer, 135 Logs, gas, 79 Looper, sewing machine, 190 M Mangle, 141, 142 Mantle lamp, 88, 94 Meters, 230, 231, 232 Mimeograph machine, 207 Mixer, bread and cake, 165, 166 Mop wringer, 154 Motor, water, 209, 210, 211 Mower, lawn, 195 N Needle bar, 186, 190 clamp, 186 Nozzles, 152 O Oil heater, 80 stove, 32 burner, 31, 32 lighting, 34 Oscillating washer, 135 Oven burner, gas, 29 Overflow, 123 P Pail for cooking food, 107 Parer, 159 Pet cock, 173 Pilot light, 27 Pipes, hot-water, 65 steam, 69 Piston, 213 Plant, acetylene-gas, 221 gasoline-gas, 220 Plug, electric, 144 Pneumatic gasoline lamp, 97 Press, lard and fruit, 164 Presser foot, sewing machine, 186, 190 Pressure canners, 173 thumb-screw for, 186 tank, 223 Pump, compressed-air, 114 force, 113, 119 plumber's, 122 suction, 113 Pulley wheel, 213 Pulley, window, 183 R Rack for canner, 173 Radiator, 65, 68, 79 valve, 122 vents, 68 Reflector gas heater, 78 Refrigerator, 100 circulation of air in, 102 iceless, 105 Roller, mangle, 142 wringer, 133, 134, 135 Rotary washer, 134 S Safety valve, 69 Sealer, fruit-can, 175 Semi-indirect light, 87 Separator, disc, 180 Separator DeLaval, 181 Sharpless, 179 Septic tank, 124, 125, 126 Sewing machine, chain-stitch, 190 bobbin, 188 lock-stitch, 186 under part, 187 shaft, 213 Shaft, crank, 213 Shaker, stove, 21, 64 Shuttle, 187, 188 Siphon, 126 Slicer, 163 Spool holder, 186, 190 for bobbin, 188 Spring in curtain roller, 185 Steam cooker, 55 furnace, 69, 73 Stoner, 160 Stones, fireless cooker, 51, 53 Storage battery, 217 Stove, coal, 15 electric, 42, 43, 80 gas, 24, 25, 26, 27, 77, 78 gasoline, 37, 38 grate, 21 heating, 62, 77, 78, 80 oil, 31, 32, 33, 34, 80 pipe, 17 shaker, 21, 64 ventilator, 111 wood, 15 Suction pump, 113 washer, 133 Sweeper, carpet, 153 T Tank, 65, 121 cooling, 108 expansion, 67 flushing, 130 gas, 223 septic, 124, 125, 126 Tension, sewing machine, 186, 187, 190 Thermometer, Fahrenheit, 234 Centigrade, 234 Thermostat, 199 Thread, bobbin, 188 cutter, 186 guide, 186 Thread take-up, 186, 190 Traps, 129 Tray for dishes, 172 Typewriter, Hammond, 204 L. C. Smith, 202 U Universal grinder, 162 Utensils for electric stove, 45 for fireless cooker, 51, 53 V Vacuum cleaner, 147, 150, 151, 152 nozzles, 152 Valve, cooker, 51 door check, 184 safety, 69 radiator, 122 Vegetable slicer, 163 Vents, 68, 122 Ventilator, 111 W Washer, centrifugal, 136, 139 cylinder, 134 for boiler, 132 locomotive, 135 oscillating, 135 rotary, 134 suction, 133 Water-bath canner, 172 Water closet, 129 cooler, 109 heater, 120 meter, 231 motor, 209, 210, 211 tank, 121 for cooling, 107 Wheel, 186, 190 Wick, 36 Window pulley, 183 Wringer, centrifugal, 139 mop, 154 roller, 133, 134, 135 
47694	----	Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. THE LABOUR-SAVING HOUSE _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ WAR RATION COOKERY (The Eat-less-meat Book) LEARNING TO COOK 10/- A HEAD FOR HOUSE BOOKS NOVELS THE HAT SHOP MRS. BARNET-ROBES A MRS. JONES [Illustration: _PLATE I_ A FINE OLD RAEBURN MANTEL-PIECE AND FIRE-PLACE FITTED WITH A MODERN "DOG" GRATE AND GAS FIRE AND ALSO WITH GAS "CANDLE" STANDARDS] THE LABOUR-SAVING HOUSE BY MRS. C. S. PEEL [Illustration] LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXVIII The greatest Labour-Saving apparatus which we possess is the Brain: it has not been worn out by too much use. _SECOND EDITION_ PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY THE ANCHOR PRESS LTD. TIPTREE ESSEX AUTHOR'S NOTE Some portion of this book appeared in the form of articles in _The Queen_ and _The Evening Standard_. My thanks are due to the Editors of those papers for permission to republish them. DOROTHY C. PEEL. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE i. Why do we need Labour-Saving Houses? 3 ii. Labour-Saving Houses and the Servant Problem 7 iii. The Labour-Saving House as it Might Be 29 iv. The Labour-Saving House as it Can Be 53 v. The Work of a Labour-Making House, and the Work of a Labour-Saving House 73 vi. Other People's Experiences of Labour-Saving Homes 87 vii. Other People's Experiences of Labour-Saving Homes (_continued_) 119 viii. Coal, Coke, and Gas: How to Use Them to the Best Advantage 141 ix. The Electric House. Cooking, Heating, Cleaning and Lighting by Electricity 171 A Final Word 187 Index 189 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS NO. 1. Gas Heater _Frontispiece_ 2. Gas Heater PAGE 8 3. Gas Heater " 9 4. Gas Heater " 15 5. Gas Heater " 18 6. Gas Cooker " 31 7. Gas Heating " 31 8. Gas Heating " 33 9. Gas Heating " 35 10. Gas Lighting " 44 11. Gas Lighting " 45 12. Gas Lighting " 47 13. Gas Cooker " 51 14. Gas Cooking " 62 15. Gas Heating (Water) " 64 16. Gas Cooker " 67 17. Gas Heating (Water) " 71 18. Gas Heating (Water) " 75 19. Gas Kitchen " 79 20. Gas Cooking " 81 21. Gas Kitchen " 85 22. Gas Kitchener " 93 23. Gas Kitchen " 95 24. Gas Destructor " 97 25. Gas Kitchen " 101 26. Gas-Reading (Meter) " 105 27. Gas Oven " 108 28. Gas Oven " 111 29. Gas Steamer " 117 30. Gas Utensils " 124 31. Gas Oven " 126 32. Electric Kitchen " 131 33. Electric Iron and Electric Heater " 134 34. Electric Kitchen " 142 35. Dining-room Hot-Plate and Dreadnought Machine " 143 36. Electric Cooker " 145 37. Electric Fire " 148 38. Electric Cooker " 157 39. Electric Cooker " 160 40. Electric Transformer Co. " 163 41. Electric Transformer Co., Delightful Inventions " 164 42. Electric Transformer Co., Breakfast Cooker " 176 42. Electric Transformer Co., Toaster and Hot-Plate " 176 43. Electric Cooker " 177 44. Gas Oven " 180 45. Electric Fireplace " 181 46. Electric Radiator " 188 In almost every English house at least a third of each day is wasted in doing work which in no way adds to the comfort of its inmates. CHAPTER I WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _Why Labour-Saving Houses are Needed_ THE LABOUR-SAVING HOUSE CHAPTER I WHY LABOUR-SAVING HOUSES ARE NEEDED Why do we need Labour-Saving Houses? Because: 1.--Life is too short and time too valuable to waste in doing work which is unnecessary and which adds little or nothing to our comfort. 2.--There is a scarcity of labour. Girls of the class from which domestic servants were drawn formerly now dislike service. The would-be employer finds it difficult to obtain servants and to keep them when obtained. 3.--Unless great changes are made in our houses and households it will become even more difficult to obtain servants, because so many professions are now open to young women that they are in a position to choose how they will earn a living. 4.--When servants are not obtainable, the mistress is driven to turn to and do the work of her own house. That is why a demand for labour-saving mechanism is making itself felt. 5.--Owing to modern inventions, it is now possible to achieve a house in which a family may be housed and fed in comfort at half the cost of labour which is absorbed in the labour-making house. 6.--It is pleasanter to spend money on the things one likes than to squander it on unnecessary coals and kitchenmaids. House-keeping. Home-making. What do these words mean? They mean so much that is vital to the individual and to the nation that one could weep for the stupidity which permits any untrained and ill-educated girl to become a nurse, a cook, a housemaid, a mother, and the mistress of a home! CHAPTER II WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _The Ignorant Employer--The Incompetent Servant--Wanted! a New Race of Mistresses--Domestic Training for all Girls--Its Value to the Nation--"Menial" Work--The Surplus of Governesses, Secretaries, and Companions, and the Scarcity of Servants--Genteel Professions--What the Servant Dislikes--How to Popularise Domestic Service._ CHAPTER II THE SERVANT PROBLEM AND SOME SOLUTIONS OF IT I "Servants? We haven't a single-handed cook or a house-parlourmaid on our books, madam." This, in many cases, is the reply of the registry office to-day, and as time goes on the shortage of domestic workers will become more and more acute. Of highly-paid upper servants, with under-servants to wait upon them, there is no lack, for the supply of persons wishing to fill the few "plum" posts in any profession is always adequate; but as there is a lack of under-servants, even the very rich find it difficult to secure a satisfactory household; while the mistress who needs a house-parlourmaid, a single-handed cook, a "general," or even a single-handed house- or parlourmaid finds it almost impossible to induce a suitable girl to accept her situation. Why should this be? "The war," says every one. "All the young women are busy conducting tramcars, selling bacon, and punching railway tickets." But why are all the young women anxious to be anything but domestic servants? As a matter of fact this dislike to service has not been brought about by the war; it has been growing steadily for many years, and to a great extent employers have only themselves to thank for a state of affairs which they so bitterly deplore. [Illustration: _PLATE II_ THE DAVIS "ADAM" GAS FIRE IN AN ADAM STYLE MANTEL] The Ignorant Employer. What sane person would undertake the management of a business knowing nothing of the conduct of it? Yet this is what young women of the moneyed classes have done ever since it became the fashion to despise domesticity, to imagine that housekeeping was a pursuit fit only for women too stupid to do anything else. The girl marries: to her, cookery and household work are deep, dark mysteries. How do you clean silver? How long does it take to turn out a bedroom? Do you allow 2 lbs. or 12 lbs. of margarine per week for a household of six persons? What is dripping? The cook says soup cannot be made without soup meat. Can't it? And what is soup meat? Imagine the annoyance of working under the control of such an employer! Honest, competent servants become disheartened, the incompetent remain incompetent, while the ignorance of the mistress makes the temptation to be dishonest well-nigh irresistible. It is the ignorance of the mistress also that has enabled the perquisite and commission system (polite names for theft) to flourish, and which make it possible for tradesmen to employ men at low wages on the tacit understanding that a high wage may be gained by fleecing the customer. [Illustration: _PLATE III_ AN "ADAM" DESIGN GAS DOG GRATE PLACED IN A FINE OLD FIRE-PLACE IN A LARGE HALL Note also the attractive gas candle brackets. (Richmond)] No Chance for the Incompetent Servant. Again, had the servant-employers of this country a proper knowledge of their duties, the incompetent servant would have little chance to exist. She would have been taught her work, and if she would not do it, have been dismissed. But nine times out of ten the mistress does not know how to teach, and is so dependent on her servants that she must keep anyone rather than be left servantless. The result of our genteel dislike of "menial" duties has not only encouraged dishonesty and incompetence in our servants, it has actually lessened the supply. The mistress who has never cleaned a room or cooked a dinner cannot realise the difficulties of either task. Hence it is that because domestic work generally has been done by paid servants, we have made but little effort to plan and furnish our houses in a labour-saving fashion. We have also failed to move with the times, and to realise that no matter if we approve or disapprove, young girls now demand more variety and more freedom in their lives than was formerly the case. Wanted! a New Race of Mistresses. A race of competent, sympathetic mistresses might have made domestic service one of the most sought-after of the professions open to the average woman. They might have eliminated practically all the hard and dirty work of the house, they might have organised regular hours for exercise and recreation, and by their own example shown what war is now teaching us--the incalculable value to the nation of the good housekeeper. In their scorn of domestic duties Englishwomen have forgotten that the sole duty of the housewife is not to know the price of mutton: it is her duty, and that of those who work with her, to bring up a race of decently behaved, clean, well-fed people, and to make of her home a place of peace and goodwill, a centre from which radiates a right influence. Is this the work for the woman too stupid for aught else? or is it the work of a true patriot? It is often said that the English govern their Government, and there is truth in the statement. The Press keeps its finger on the public pulse: when that shows signs of excitement, the Press acts, and between them, Public and Press set Parliament moving. Domestic Training for all Girls. Possibly, in time, the serious lack of domestic labour will excite the Public and the Press to such a pitch that the Government will realise that every girl, no matter of what class, should be taught how to cook and to clean and to wash, tend and feed a young child, and not only be taught how to do these things, but impressed with the idea that in so doing she is as surely performing her duty to her country as are the soldier, sailor, doctor, scientist, or merchant. But the fact that you teach girls these things will not cause them to become servants, you object. I am by no means sure that you are right. When all girls have been through a course of domestic training, and when they have been impressed with the national importance of such work, they will regard it from a point of view different from that which now obtains. The girl who becomes the employer will know what she is asking of her employée; she will realise that to labour indoors from 6.30 or 7 to 10 or 10.30 five days a week is not attractive to a young girl. The work may not be continuous: there will be half-hours of rest and talk with the other maids; but the fact remains that the servant is on duty and liable to be called upon at any time during those hours. The mistress, who has been a worker, will also realise how hard and disagreeable are some of the tasks required of the servant in a labour-making home. On the other hand, the servant will know that she cannot take advantage of the ignorance of her employer and that her employer is not demanding of her work which she herself regards as derogatory. The maid, too, will start knowing her work: she will not have to pick it up as best she can, often from persons knowing little more than herself. The life of many young servants is made almost unendurable because they have to struggle along as best they may, scolded by mistress and upper-servant alike for not knowing what they have had no opportunity to learn. A child in a fairly well-to-do working home, whose mother has been a servant, goes out to service with some knowledge of her work, but as a rule the conditions in cottages and town workers' dwellings are so utterly different from those in the homes of the well-to-do that the young girl can scarcely be blamed when she breaks and spoils and makes more dust and muddle than she clears away. Domestic Training will improve the Physique of the Coming Generation. A three or four months' course of intelligent domestic training would do much, not only to solve the servant problem, but to improve the physique of the coming generation, for it is sheer ignorance of domesticity which accounts for a high percentage of the infant mortality which is a disgrace to this country. And this ignorance of the importance of cleanliness, sanitation, etc., is not confined to the poorer classes. Fashions filter downwards, and when the educated women of the upper classes show that they consider household work beneath their attention, why should they think it strange when they find the same opinion expressed by the working-girl? Ignorance of the national value of "menial work" is one reason for the unpopularity of domestic service. This attitude is not confined to the uneducated--only to the unthinking. [Illustration: PLATE IV THIS ILLUSTRATION SHOWS HOW MODERN COAL GRATES IN BEDROOMS CAN BE FITTED WITH GAS FIRES WITHOUT MAKING STRUCTURAL ALTERATIONS. This type of gas fire can be fitted in almost any shape or size of coal grates; its initial cost, as well as cost of fitting, is extremely low. (Fletcher Russell)] II Menial Work. The wide dislike of menial work which exists was brought before me vividly a short time ago. A secretary was advertised for, an educated, quick, methodical worker--good typist and shorthandist. The lady who needed the secretary almost required one to deal with the letters she received in reply to her advertisement.[1] A holiday nursery governess was advertised for: again with the same result. Women with every qualification were anxious--desperately anxious--to obtain the post. These educated women sent stamped envelopes for a reply and offered to come long distances to secure an interview. A cook at £30 a year (single-handed) was advertised for over and over again. Registry offices were haunted, friends worried, for tidings of cooks. No cooks were forthcoming. Here was a situation where the two maids had a roomy comfortable bedroom and their own bathroom, a sitting-room with a gas fire and every labour-saving apparatus to make the work easy. These servants were offered not less than 10s. a week wages, as much good food as they could eat, clean, sanitary quarters, with comfortable beds and hot baths galore. Their washing was paid, an off-day, from 3.30 to 10, once a week, and the same on alternate Sundays, and two weeks' holiday (on full pay) granted, in addition to as many other outings as could be arranged. Had suitable applicants appeared and demanded £30 or £34 a year, they would have obtained those wages. [Illustration: PLATE V A LONDON DINING-ROOM SHOWING DRAWING-ROOM BEYOND This picture shows how a gas fire may be fixed in an antique grate without disturbing the old fire-place. When alight the effect is of red-hot coke.] Too many Governesses, Secretaries, and Companions in Normal Times. And yet there is a glut of women who wish to become governesses, secretaries, companions, and shop-assistants, in spite of the fact that such work is not well paid, that it is uncertain, and that those girls who must take lodgings or "live in" are generally badly housed and badly fed. Except in a few shops, girls living "in" live very roughly. Nurses in the generality of nursing-homes do the same, and women workers who earn under 30s. a week and live in a bed-sitting-room in a lodging-house are in no better case, though the latter do have the luxury of a room to themselves. In many houses, however, this luxury could be granted to the servants. The life of a servant in a good situation is healthy; she can enjoy cleanliness, good food, and warmth, she can take her pick of situations, and leave one which is undesirable, knowing full well that she can obtain another for the asking. A girl earning good wages in service can save, and she is not dogged by the terror of being suddenly thrown out of employment and finding herself penniless and unable to obtain another post. So much for the advantages of domestic service as a profession. What are its drawbacks? Lack of freedom and the fact that the profession of a servant is not considered genteel! The girl who adopts it does not rank as a "young lady." Service is not a Genteel Profession! Is it not time that we ceased to cherish such vulgar ideas? War, tragic and terrible, is bringing home to us the fact that we should honour the women who can and will work, and despise those who exist merely as parasites on the labour of their fellow-beings. The educated woman who desires to earn her living has a great chance before her. Let her do for the domestic worker what an earlier generation of women did for the sick-nurse. As domestic workers, educated women will be of incalculable value to the nation, and they can secure for themselves well-paid, healthy work under reformed conditions. Domestic Training Colleges. To bring about this change, first of all we need to establish domestic training colleges, run on somewhat the same lines as the Norland Nurses' Institute, where girls of good education may learn their work and obtain certificates and character sheets. These institutions should provide accommodation for members on holiday or when changing their situations. They should also demand for their members a fixed scale of wages, a reasonable standard of food and accommodation, and free time. The workers should wear the uniform of the institution. Well-trained girls could demand high wages, and employers could afford to give them to conscientious, capable workers, who would neither break nor spoil nor waste, and who would disdain to practise the small dishonesties by which the servant often augments her wages. But if the educated woman worker is ready to do her part in the scheme, her prospective employer must realise that she, too, has a duty to perform. It rests with her so to arrange the work of her household that the positions she has to offer shall appear desirable to the class of woman she desires to employ. What the Servant Dislikes. To sum up the situation, the scarcity of domestic servants is accounted for by the dislike of girls who have to earn a living for a life which entails long hours, little freedom, and which carries with it something of social stigma. The shop-girl, the clerk, the tea-room waitress are "_young ladies_." They are known as Miss Jones or Miss Smith. The servant is a servant, a "slavey," a "skivvy," a "Mary Jane." A young man of the superior working class prefers to walk out with a young lady, and the servant knows this and resents it. Even if a girl goes into a factory, she may work harder than the servant and in many cases under less pleasant conditions, but she is free in the evening, on Saturday afternoon, and on Sunday, and she lives amongst her equals. She does not inhabit "servants' bedrooms," and eat "kitchen butter," and drink "kitchen tea." The tea that she does drink may be inferior, but at all events it is as good as that consumed by other members of her world. And all these things matter, though the average employer likes to believe that they do not. To Popularise Domestic Service. So to make domestic service popular we must make it fashionable. It should be as fashionable to be a domestic servant as to become a hospital nurse. Alter the conditions of domestic service until the profession of domestic worker attracts the educated woman, and the problem is solved. "Go into Service! Not I!" That is what young girls say. "I don't know what to do, I cannot get servants." That is what the employer says. What is she doing to make domestic service an attractive profession to the young girl? III Study the psychology of the question, find out what it is young women want of life. Be progressive. Do not say, "Because it was, it ever shall be." Thank God, things do not stay as they were, or we might still be working little children eighteen hours a day in factories, starving and whipping lunatics, and burning witches. Having realised that it is the human attitude which is of first importance, then let us go on to see by what means we can lighten the work of our households so that we may make service attractive. We can solve the domestic problem-- 1.--By becoming entirely, or partly, our own servants. 2.--By employing outside workers, who should be trained, uniformed, and paid at a fixed rate per hour. 3.--By changing the conditions until domestic service becomes as attractive to the worker as any other profession open to the woman of average ability and education. Other changes can be made: indeed, it is certain that sooner or later they must be made unless we are to go servantless. When the necessary alteration of mental attitude towards the subject is achieved, the next thing to be done is to call to our aid all the labour-saving devices which are available, for it is by making full use of them that we can eliminate the hard and disagreeable work from houses and make the profession of a domestic worker attractive to an educated woman. In the industrial world it is now realised that to obtain the best results the worker must be saved all unnecessary fatigue, and that the mental atmosphere in which he works must be as free from strain and anxiety as possible, for it is found that the labour of an over-tired worker becomes practically worthless. It is time we applied modern methods to the working of our households, in which they are needed as much as in the office or the factory. "They build these 'ouses," said Ann, "as though girls wasn't 'uman beings.... "It's 'ouses like this wears girls out." KIPPS. FOOTNOTE: [1] This incident occurred in the early part of 1915. CHAPTER III WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _The House that Jack builds without the help of Jane--A Hot and Cold Water Service--What happens when you do away with Coal--How to Save a Third of your Household Work--Light and Air--Kitchens and Offices--Service-rooms--Furniture and Decoration--Bathrooms and Washing-rooms--Some Labour-Saving Details._ CHAPTER III THE LABOUR-SAVING HOUSE AS IT MIGHT BE I The other day I was re-reading that delightful story of a simple soul, _Kipps_, and was struck anew by the truth of the difficulties which beset Artie and Ann when they went house-hunting. "'They build these 'ouses,' said Ann, 'as though girls wasn't 'uman beings.... There's kitchen stairs to go up, Artie.... Some poor girl's got to go up and down, up and down, and be tired out, jest because they haven't the sense to leave enough space to give their steps a proper rise; and no water upstairs anywhere--every drop got to be carried! It's 'ouses like this wear girls out. "'It's 'aving 'ouses built by men, I believe, makes all the work and trouble....' "The Kipps, you see, thought they were looking for a reasonably simple little contemporary house, but indeed they were looking either for dreamland or 1975 A.D., or thereabouts, and it hadn't come." The House that Jack Built. I am inclined to agree with Ann in thinking that having houses built by men makes at least a great part of all the work and trouble, for my own experiences--somewhat limited, I admit--of architects point to the fact that they are concerned to provide you with a house which looks charming and which may be stoutly built, but that such details as the make of the bath, the size of the service lift, the position of the kitchen range, and the arrangements for cupboards, housemaid's pantries, and so forth, concern them not at all. When rebuilding a house for ourselves it was left to me to suggest a service lift, and I was only by a happy chance in time to prevent it being of such an absurd size that no good-sized joint on a dish to correspond, or a coal scuttle, could have been put into it! I also had to point out that to arrange for all the hot-water pipes to pass through the larder seemed scarcely advisable, and that a box-room in which all the boxes were to be stacked one upon the other was not quite as labour-saving as one fitted with strong, cheap slatted shelves on which the boxes could stand in tiers and be removed one at a time as required with ease and dispatch. Men, as a general rule, do not have to keep house, neither do they have to do housework, thus it is not surprising that such details as these escape their notice. [Illustration: _PLATE VI_ THE "BROWNIE" IS THE IDEAL COOKER. For use where space is limited, or where the requirements of the family are small. The oven is fitted with one grid and one browning shelf.] [Illustration: _PLATE VIa_ THE "WALDICK" COOKER Combines a cooker, gas fire, and water boiler. All parts of the stove are under separate control. Where hot water is available by other means the "Waldick" can be supplied without the side boiler. The gas fire in the oven door is always supplied with this cooker, as shown above. This stove is specially designed for use in flats, and other places where there is limited space. (Wilson)] Women Architects. For that reason every architect, if he be a man, should number a clever, resourceful, and experienced woman amongst his staff. Or why should not the architect be a woman? Before discoursing of the labour-saving house as it might be, it is well to state that I am well aware that one man's meat is another man's poison, also that, owing to the fact that gas and electricity are not always available in the country, the labour-saving house must, more often than not, be in a town or a suburb. Still, much may be done with the country house, even the small country house, and after all we move quickly nowadays, and soon it may be possible to obtain gas and electric current everywhere. [Illustration: _PLATE VII_ A DINING-ROOM WITH A GAS FIRE AND GAS "CANDLE" BRACKETS] A Hot and Cold Water Service. Another point which strikes me when coming to consider my labour-saving house is this. Why do not the Water Companies supply us with a Hot Water Service on much the same terms as they now supply us with a Cold Water Service? Let us try and realise what this would mean to the householder. His home would be fitted with radiators and warmed by hot water. He would turn the radiators on and off as he needed them. He would turn a tap and hot water would be at his command at any hour, day and night, for baths, washing-up, and cooking. He would turn another tap and cold water would gush forth. Imagine the economy of such an arrangement! Instead of millions of stoves heating water, there would be a few large furnaces doing the work. Imagine, too, the difference in the atmosphere when you eliminate coal from all dwelling-houses. The house is heated and provided with hot and cold water on every floor, in every room if you like, with no more trouble to yourself than turning a tap and paying the bill. When you do not have to cook water in addition to food you need far less fuel, and for this purpose electricity or gas are at your disposal. If you feel lonely when sitting in a room warmed by a radiator, you may have a small wood fire, and this, I admit, labour-saving faddist that I am, I should desire in one or two sitting-rooms. When by turning a tap or a switch, water, gas, and electricity become our servants, we shall have done much to solve the Servant Problem. [Illustration: _PLATE VIII_ A WELL-KNOWN LONDON DRAWING-ROOM SHOWING A GAS-HEATED "LOG FIRE"] II But in the ideal labour-saving house (ideal, mark you, from a labour-saving point of view), there are no fires, no chimneys, no grates, no coal-devouring, dirt-making range, always requiring coal and yet more coal and returning you evil for good in the shape of soot and dirt. Have you ever watched a sweep at work? Have you ever cleaned the flues of a coal range? In our dream-house we have no such horrors. We save the cost of chimneys, sweeps, grates, fenders, fireirons, coal-boxes. We need not provide coal cellars, in which a cold, cross, sleepy girl must grovel in the early morn before the house can be warmed and the breakfast cooked. Make a mental picture of all the heavy coal-boxes which are dragged up steep stairs in this country of ours. Ann was right when she said, "It's 'ouses like this wears girls out." [Illustration: _PLATE IX_ A GAS FIRE IN THE ENTRANCE HALL OF A SMALL TOWN HOUSE] Save a Third of the Work in the House. Eliminate coal and you save quite a third of the work in your home. Think this out and you will see that it is so. Coal must be delivered. In a town it is shot through a hole into the basement cellar or cellars. This causes a cloud of black dirt, and the front of your house suffers. Then coal must be shovelled up into scuttles; often it is necessary to break up the large lumps. The scuttles are then carried about the house, coals up, ashes down; grates are cleaned and the room is powdered with dust in the process. Grates, fenders, fireirons, and coal-boxes must be cleaned, and fashion ordains that they are generally made, wholly or partly, of polished metal. The weather is cold and a servant is rung for and more coal is demanded. One day the wind blows and the fire will not light. It takes some fifteen minutes of bellows-blowing and two bundles of wood to set it going, and then the wind blows harder and it smokes! Alas for the poor housemaid! The kitchen fire won't draw and the water is not hot. The sweep must be sent for, and all the while the air is being fouled from the smoke from our own chimneys, and when we open our windows the coal we burn returns to us in the shape of smuts and grime. Oh, the washing bill, the cleaner's bill! The bill for labour which might be saved! So in our ideal home we do away with all this pother, and wash and warm ourselves by means of hot water which comes from the main and the supply of which we regulate by turning taps. We light our house and cook our food by means of electricity or gas, which we also regulate by turning switches or taps. Thus we obtain heat and artificial light. When Labour was cheap and plentiful, the Labour-Making House caused but little inconvenience except to those who had to do the work, and their point of view was seldom considered. Now that Labour is scarce and dear, the matter assumes a different complexion. III But our house must be well supplied with natural light, for without light and air we cannot live. Away, then, with basements. There must be ample space between the rows of houses so that every room may be light, that the sun may penetrate into it, and therefore the windows must be large. Kitchens and Offices. These, too, must be light and airy. The kitchen should not be used as a sitting-room; it is the place in which food is prepared, and should be a place which can be kept exquisitely clean. It should have tiled walls and ceiling, a cemented floor on a slight slant with a gutter, so that it may be washed down with a hose. The larder and pantry should be arranged in a like fashion. The larder must be cool, well ventilated, and the food stored in it protected from dust and dirt. In our ideal home, both cook and mistress know something of the work of dust and flies as disease carriers. In this kitchen the cooker is placed in a good light and is mounted at a convenient height. Only the cook knows the fatigue occasioned by stooping to lift heavy weights out of low-set ovens, the worry of cooking in a bad light. The sink, too, shall be set at a reasonable height. There shall not be a scullery--why should there be a scullery? It is merely one more place to clean. Then we will not condemn any girl or woman to stand for hours washing up. The electrically worked washing-up machine does such work well and quickly, and our pots and pans when electricity or even gas is used do not become black and sooty on the outside. In the ideal kitchen we will have as few utensils as possible, and these shall have their proper keeping places. A Service-room. In addition to kitchen and larder we will have a "service-room," fitted with cupboards for linen, blankets, pillows, etc., for boxes, for china and glass. Here flowers may be done, clothes brushed, and half a hundred domestic jobs performed. Here there may be a hot-airing cupboard, a place in which to wash and iron. Tiled walls and ceiling, varnished wood, linoleum-covered floor, tables covered with American cloth nailed tight or faced with zinc are quickly and easily cleaned. In addition there must be a maids' sitting-room, light, bright, sparsely but comfortably furnished, with linoleum-covered floor and small, light rugs which may be shaken easily. And in a convenient place, so that it may be fed from kitchen and pantry, there must be the service lift. Here we have such domestic premises as are suitable in a house where three or more servants will be employed. The large household will need a housekeeper's room, a sitting-room for the housemaids, a dining-hall, but in this book such households cannot be considered. On the other hand, the one or two-servant house or flat may be differently planned. Here pantry, sitting-room, and service-room might be combined, and this suggestion is dealt with in another chapter; while in the no-servant home, or that in which some of the work is done by the visiting domestic worker, a sitting-room is not needed, and kitchen and pantry may be combined. A small service-room, however, I would not omit in a house where there are spare bedding, china, linen, boxes, and so forth to be stowed away; and a house in which there is no place to do odd jobs cannot be an ideal home. [Illustration: _PLATE X_ A CHARMING TWO-LIGHT GAS CANDLE BRACKET IN WROUGHT IRON (EVERED)] Furniture and Decoration. The furnishing and decoration of a house must be left to individual taste: one person revels in colouring which would make another ill, but when we consider the matter from a labour-saving point of view, we should forbid painted woodwork. Natural wood should be used and mouldings forbidden. Who does not know the lines of dirt which form on the mouldings in which the builder delights? The wainscots, the window-frames, the doors, all are trimmed with mouldings. Fitted carpets, or, indeed, any heavy carpets, should be taboo. Parquet floors are delightful, but in most places linoleum must be the floor covering because it keeps out draughts, is easily kept clean, and is comparatively cheap. Furniture which cannot be moved without difficulty or swept under is objectionable: double beds are tiring for one person to make, and washhandstands can be omitted if there are a suitable number of washing-rooms. These are preferable, I think, to fitted washstands in the bedrooms. In the average house three washing-rooms would be required, one for husband and wife, one for the children, and one for the servants. When spare rooms are required each bedroom and dressing-room should have its washing-room. You may say that so many bathrooms absorb much space and cost so much more. [Illustration: _PLATE XI_ A MODERN INDIRECT GAS LIGHTING "BOWL" PENDANT. (EVERED)] A Clever Idea for a Bedroom and Dressing-room Bath. This idea has been carried out in a small country house known to me. Here the spare bedroom and dressing-room are 16 feet wide. Where the dividing wall would come a fitted washstand has been arranged in either room, back to back. The washstands jut out 1 foot 8 inches into either room, and are 3 feet long, leaving, if you draw a straight line to either side wall, and allowing for a partition wall, a space 3 feet 8 inches wide and 10 feet long. This space is enclosed on either side by sliding doors, fitted with bolts, and inside it a porcelain enamel bath is fitted. There is a ventilating window at the outer wall, and that piece of wall is tiled as is the floor. A large-sized bath measures some 30 inches across the widest end, and is 6 feet long. A small bath measures some 28 inches by 5 feet, so if the rooms were small and a small bath chosen a lesser space would be necessary for the bathroom, and part of the length might be used for wardrobe cupboards. In this house the water and the radiators are heated by a coke furnace, the house is lighted by acetylene gas, and the cooking is done by coal, and the cooker is so arranged that it heats servants' hall as well as kitchen. In a labour-saving house all rooms should be under rather than over furnished, and free of heavy, stuffy draperies. There should be a gas ring or electric heater in each room or on each floor, so that in the case of illness food can be prepared. Hot water there will always be, day and night. What are the domestic tasks which women most dislike? Getting coals out of the coal cellar. Cleaning grates and flues. Carrying heavy trays, cans, and coal-boxes up and down stairs. Cleaning doorsteps. Doing washstand work. Then why continue to perform them? [Illustration: _PLATE XII_ A THREE-LIGHT GAS FITTING, WITH INVERTED BURNERS AND SHADES SUCH AS ENSURE A PLEASING LIGHT The switch systems, now readily adaptable to gas lighting, enable the burners to be lighted and extinguished by the mere pressing of a button. (Evered)] IV Of polished metal there should be a minimum, and glass rather than silver should be chosen for table use. Stainless steel knives take the place of those which need cleaning. The meals should be simplified as much as possible. Earthenware casseroles in which the food is cooked and served save washing up. Rotary brushes by which boot and other cleaning may be carried out are worked by electricity. Linoleum with rubber treads is substituted for stair carpets whenever possible, in order to save carpet beating and the cost of stair-rods. The use of a suction cleaner, Bissel carpet sweeper, long-handled scrubbing brushes and mops, telephone bells, an electric "not at home" indicator on the front door, a polished dining-table, glass tops to sideboard, side, and dressing-tables will all reduce the labour bill. It is also important that each person in the house should refrain from making unnecessary work for the others, for to tidy up after an untidy person absorbs far more time than is often realised. But, alas! such a home as I have described is not within the reach of many people. Like the Kipps, we are looking for Dreamland or 1975, and it has not come. Still, there are people who build houses and there are more people who rebuild houses, and large numbers who do up houses, and if one cannot do all one would like, it is generally possible to achieve some of one's ambitions. It is not the work but the spirit in which it is done that degrades. [Illustration: _PLATE XIII_ COMPOSITE GAS COOKER (3 INDEPENDENT OVENS AND HOT PLATE). SUITABLE FOR A LARGE HOUSEHOLD WHERE THE AMOUNT OF COOKING VARIES VERY MUCH] CHAPTER IV WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _The Basement House--Good Neighbourhoods and Dying Neighbourhoods--A Typical Labour-Making House--A Labour-Making House Converted--Another Suggestion for a Labour-Saving House--Fitting and Furnishing._ CHAPTER IV THE LABOUR-SAVING HOUSE AS IT CAN BE I It was an Irishman who advised, "If ye can't be aisy, be as aisy as ye can," and his advice was good. Thus, if you cannot have an ideal house, have a home which is as nearly ideal as possible, so let us consider the house as we generally find it, and see what can be done to improve it. Most houses built prior to the last ten years seem to have been planned with the express desire of providing an unnecessary amount of hard work for the unfortunate persons who inhabit them. Fifty years ago labour was cheap and plentiful, and ideas as to hygiene stranger even than many which still obtain. Now, however, we do know that fresh air and light are as necessary to our well-being as sound food. This fact is shown in an interesting fashion in Mrs. Pember Reeves' admirable book, "Round About a Pound a Week," in which she speaks eloquently of the way in which "basement families" deteriorate in health, although the children may have more food than those who live in higher, airier quarters. Basement Houses. Ignorance of the value of light and air, cheap labour and dear land were no doubt the causes of basement houses, and to this day, although labour is dear and the cost of feeding and keeping each servant has increased, it is no uncommon thing for a housekeeper to remark, "I have to keep an extra servant because of the basement," and perhaps another maid is employed because of the coals and stairs. Where the income is ample, the extra labour bill is of little importance (speaking from the employer's point of view), but householders of moderate and small means are rapidly discovering that labour-making houses are not for them; that it is an economy to pay, if needs be, a rather higher rent and to live in a healthy, light, airy house, so planned that all unnecessary toil is abolished, and with it the cost of much cleaning material, chimney-sweeping, whitewashing, etc. In many cases, landlords have found it impossible to let their gloomy, inconvenient dwellings to tenants of the desired kind, and what was a "good neighbourhood" has sunk by degrees until the houses are inhabited by members of that unfortunate class who are forced to take any rooms they can obtain, and only too often pay a high price for bad accommodation. I am not in a position to advise on the management of house property, but I cannot but think that in many cases it would pay the owners to modernise the houses they have to let rather than let them deteriorate. As I write, I have in my mind's eye a certain neighbourhood in London, once fashionable, now inhabited by "nice" people, whose means make it impossible for them to pay high rents. But this neighbourhood is slowly but surely deteriorating, and rents are sinking, simply because the houses are of a kind that necessitate at least three servants being employed, in addition to a nurse if there are young children. With less than three servants these houses could not be kept clean or warm. A Typical Labour-Making House. The accommodation in most of these streets and squares consists of: _Basement_ (deep and rather dark).--Kitchen, pantry, servants' hall at back (generally very dark), lavatory, coal and wine cellars; front area (dustbin stands here), backyard; steep and dark stairs to ground floor. _Ground Floor._--Dining-room, smoking-room, and third small dark room, lavatory, narrow hall, and steep stairs leading to small half-landing. _First Floor._--Double drawing-room. Above, seven bedrooms, one lavatory, and one bathroom. All coal for the house must be carried up one, two, or three, and possibly four, flights of steep stairs. There is a large kitchen range, with flues to clean twice a week, as in order to keep up the hot-water supply much coal is burned, and the flues become very dirty. The chimney must also be swept every two months. Other chimneys must be swept twice a year; if much used, three times a year. All food and table utensils must be carried up and downstairs three times a day, and when lunch and dinner are in progress a servant must run up and down with clean and dirty dishes, etc. Washstands are used in each bedroom, and hot water taken to these rooms three or four times a day. There is but one bathroom and upstairs lavatory; therefore there is a good deal of stair work when doing the rooms. If there is a nursery, the nursery meals have to be carried up and down. Each time the hall-door bell rings, a maid must run upstairs to answer it, and visitors and tea in the drawing-room necessitate more journeys up and down, and the carrying of a heavy tray. Now, with a house of this description there are certainly two ways of converting it into a labour-saving dwelling. A Labour-Making House Converted. If the basement is deep and incurably dark, by far the best plan is to dispense with it altogether so far as living-rooms are concerned, using it merely for cellars and box-room. "But," says the householder, "there will now be no back door. The tradesmen will all have to come to the front door." They will. But tradesmen call chiefly in the morning, and the few who come in the afternoon might be instructed to go to the area door, to which the dustman would also go, while the coals (if any are used) would be delivered through the pavement coal-shoot as before. Arranging thus, the house proper begins on the ground floor. The large front room is the dining-room as before, and the double doors between it and the erstwhile smoking-room should be plastered up on the smoking-room side, for under the new arrangement the smoking-room becomes the kitchen, and the small third room the pantry. The kitchen will not be large, but neither a gas nor an electric cooker takes up much space. Now comes the question whether the hot-water system shall be worked by a coke or a gas circulator. The latter gives even less trouble than the former, but it may prove too costly in use. A coke furnace needs to be stoked about three times a day, and is very easy to light. The furnace might be placed in the kitchen or in the basement, and in it can be burned practically all the rubbish, thus doing away with that otherwise nasty necessity the dustbin, which in many parts of London the authorities refuse to empty more than once a week. Kitchen and pantry must be fitted with sinks, and there should be a little gas fire, work-table, and armchair in the pantry for the use of the house-parlourmaid. Make your head save your hands. This has been said millions of times, but there is still need to go on saying it. II Two servants can easily do the work of a house such as this will become, and the kitchen premises are only suitable for two servants. Extra help, however, can always be employed in times of stress. In order that two women may keep the house in thorough order, gas fires should be used in all rooms other than perhaps the drawing-room and the nursery, though now that gas fires have been brought to such a state of perfection I can see no reason why there should not be gas in the nurseries. The double drawing-room must be made into drawing-room and smoking-room, thus leaving seven bedrooms as before, or it may suit the family to keep the double drawing-room, and make an upstairs smoking-room. Personally I should use the first floor front room as drawing-room, and open the doors into the smoking-room when more space was needed, thus leaving best bed and dressing-room, two nurseries, one servants' room, and one spare room, and a small room to be used as linen and dress room. (Boxes could be stored in the empty basement.) Add to the house a second bathroom and lavatory, telephone bells; use the bathroom basins rather than the bedroom washstands (and when a bathroom can be set apart for Monsieur and Madame, and another for nursery and maids, this is scarcely a hardship), and you now have a house which, provided it is not crammed with furniture, stuffy carpets, and draperies, can be perfectly kept by two good servants, always supposing that the nurse does not demand too much waiting on. [Illustration: _PLATE XIV_ A SENSIBLY-ARRANGED BOILING AND GRILLING TABLE The burners vary from a small simmering burner to a powerful concentric burner with two taps. This make of table can be furnished in over a dozen different sizes. (John Wright)] [Illustration: _PLATE XIVa_ A large heating surface is provided, so that large or heavy utensils such as fish kettles etc., are in no danger of being upset on account of being top heavy, as is the case when they are balanced on an ordinary gas ring. In the centre of the Hot Plate is a circular plate which may be removed when it is desired to allow the flames of the gas ring to come into direct contact with the cooking vessel. A lifter is provided for this purpose. (C. H. Kempton)] Nurse and Nursery. If this important person has a bathroom conveniently situated, gas fires, a gas ring for heating kettles, irons, etc., and a cupboard containing her own stock of crockery, she should give very little trouble to the house-parlourmaid. If advisable, a charwoman one day a week could turn out the nurseries, tidy the front area and backyard, clean the stairs and bathrooms. Arranging the house thus, the following work is saved: Cleaning of kitchen range and flues, carrying of coal all over house, running up and downstairs to answer front door, especially in morning, when the cook is busy, carrying of trays from basement, cleaning and filling coal scuttles, cleaning grates and fireirons, much carrying of hot water and bedroom work, entire cleaning of basement. If a coke furnace is used, coke is light to carry and clean to handle, and should a buttery hatch be arranged between dining-room and kitchen, one maid (if well trained) can wait on six or eight persons quite satisfactorily. Then when a little dinner is given, a charwoman, at one shilling and her supper, to help wash up, is the only outside help which is necessary. Now I cannot but think that a house such as I have described would let at £120 a year, where now many of them are let at £90, and as time goes on will fetch less and attract a less desirable style of tenant. Considering the saving in upkeep of a basement, labour, food and keep of one maid, and the shrinkage of general expense which occurs when two maids are kept rather than three, it would pay the tenant well to expend the extra £30 a year. Even were the saving of expense no object, the additional comfort of a labour-saving house is worth the extra rent. With the cost of heating by gas rather than coal I will deal later, but it must always be borne in mind that with coal range and coal fires in, say, three or four rooms in such a house the labour is made far greater, and also the rooms become far dirtier. In my own dining-room, where there is a gas fire, the dirt and dust is most noticeably less than in the drawing-room, where we burn coal. I said at the beginning of this chapter that there were at least two methods of turning labour-making into labour-saving houses. Let us now suppose that we have to deal with another basement house, but that in this case the basement is neither deep nor dark. [Illustration: _PLATE XV_ A WELL FITTED BATHROOM WITH A GAS-HEATED TOWEL RAIL AND FIXED WASHSTAND] A Second Suggestion for a Labour-Saving House. The front room is quite light and cheerful, with a good view of the street. The back room is rather dark, and has a narrow area facing into a strip of garden. The house contains but five bedrooms, so that the basement cannot well be spared. Here I would use the front room (made very light and gay with paper and paint) as a combination servants' sitting-room, pantry, and store-room. The kitchen should be tiled if feasible--if not, papered with a white-tiled paper--and floored with black-and-white linoleum in order to make it as light as possible. The back area must be enlarged so as to give more light and air, and some steps should lead into the garden, where the maids can sit in hot weather. At present the basement consists of a front room and kitchen, coal cellars under the pavement, a lavatory, and a little piece at the end of the passage leading to the back area, which can be arranged for a knife- and boot-cleaning place. But there is no larder. This must be built. A door is cut to lead out of the kitchen into a tiny lobby, out of this lobby one door opens into the white-tiled, well-ventilated larder, and the other into the area. The basement is now as light and airy as any basement can be. There is no scullery, but that apartment is unnecessary in most houses and certainly unnecessary in a small house where two, or at most three, servants are employed, and which contains a pleasant room in which they can sit and have their meals. The kitchen should be fitted with a gas or electric cooker and a gas or coke hot-water furnace. The front room is warmed by a gas stove, and in order to make up for the extra work entailed by the basement, a service lift is installed, with double hatches opening from kitchen and pantry, and from dining-room and smoking-room, which are directly over the kitchen and pantry. This house is completed by a ground floor cloakroom and two bathrooms, gas fires everywhere but in the drawing-room, telephone bells, and in each room a tiny gas ring, so that in case of illness or other emergency hot water or hot food can be obtained without troubling the maids. With all these labour-saving arrangements two servants are able to do the work with ease, and to do it in such a way as is required by English gentlepeople, who entertain more than do their compeers in continental countries. When planning and furnishing a house, say to yourself over and over again, "Some one will have to keep this clean." [Illustration: _PLATE XVI_ THE ILLUSTRATION SHOWS A "POTTERTON" COOKER TAKEN TO PIECES FOR THE REGULAR CLEANING GIVEN BY ALL CAREFUL COOKS. The fitments of all modern gas cookers are readily removable, and easily cleaned.] III But in addition to structural labour-saving arrangements, these rearranged houses are furnished in a labour-saving manner. Except in the drawing-room, there is as little furniture as possible, for crowded rooms are difficult to clean and take a long time to keep in order. Wherever it is seemly, the floors are fitted with linoleum, for no other floor covering is so cleanly or so easy to keep in good condition. When there are rugs, they are sufficiently light to be easily shaken. Fitted carpets are taboo. Had money been no object the floors of the sitting-rooms would have been of polished wood, but in these two cases the surrounds were of linoleum and the carpets square, tightly strained and not of too thick a pile. These can be quickly swept with a Bissel sweeper and cleaned from time to time with a suction cleaner, while of course long-handled mops are used for the linoleum. In kitchen and pantry the supply of pots and pans, china, etc., is limited to what is necessary, and but little silver is used. Most of the food is cooked and served in casseroles, and so the washing up is lessened. The knives are of stainless steel and merely need washing. In the two cases quoted the people who inhabited the houses were of the class who are accustomed to luxury, and a considerable amount of door opening, telephone answering, and informal entertaining had to be allowed for. Without labour-saving arrangements, four servants, or three with a charwoman twice a week, would have been needed to do the work really well in the larger house, while three would have been required in the smaller house. But supposing that the family was small and a simpler style of living needed, and that little or no entertaining took place, the mistress of the house and one good servant could have done the work of either house without undue strain and allowing each an ample amount of free time. Those people who talk as if doing the work of the house was a pleasant occupation for one's spare hours speak without understanding of their words. The keeping of her house must be the profession of the servantless woman, but by adopting labour-saving methods she may yet have time and energy for other interests. [Illustration: _PLATE XVII_ JOHN WRIGHT'S B.T.U. CIRCULATOR IS INTENDED TO HEAT WATER WHICH CIRCULATES THROUGH PIPES INTO HOT WATER STORAGE TANKS, AND IS PARTICULARLY SUITABLE FOR CONNECTING UP TO HOT WATER APPARATUS ALREADY IN THE HOUSE. The No. 3020 is suitable where the Storage tank or cylinder does not contain more than 20 gallons, and the No. 2040 will suit a tank or cylinder of 40 gallons capacity.] CHAPTER V WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _A List of Daily Duties in a Labour-Making House--A House-Hunting Experience--Managing with one Servant in a Labour-Saving House._ CHAPTER V THE WORK OF A LABOUR-MAKING HOUSE, AND THE WORK OF A LABOUR-SAVING HOUSE I Those women who have never been obliged to undertake any domestic duties have little idea of the amount of work which has to be done in the average house. The following is a list of duties, and we must add to it the answering of bells, tidying up after untidy people, any personal services required (in many cases this is considerable), door opening, telephone answering, letter posting, note and message taking, "running out" for things which have been forgotten, whistling for cabs, waiting in the hall to see visitors out, etc., window cleaning, washing, mending, listing house linen for the laundry, extra work at special cleaning times, sweeps' visits, etc. Household Duties. Light kitchen fire; one or two days a week clean flues and thoroughly clean range. Get in coal. Clean doorstep and brasses. Make tea, cut bread and butter, and take trays and hot water to bedrooms. Draw curtains, put washstands and possibly baths ready. Brush clothes, clean and take up boots. Sweep stairs, do hall and sitting-rooms, grates and coals. Get breakfast and set and serve it for servants and dining-room. Clear and wash up. Knife cleaning. Area or backyards to brush out. Kitchen and back premises to clean. Housework and turning out of rooms. Polishing bright metal, silver cleaning and pantry work of all kinds. Cooking, washing up and cleaning after cooking. Keep a supply of coal ready. Laying, serving, and washing up lunch and servants' dinner. Tidying the washstands after lunch. Tea. Shutting up rooms, bedroom work, hot water, etc. Wash up tea. Dinner. Cooking, washing up and tidying. Pantry work. Servants' supper. Bedroom work, hot bottles. Bed. These duties entail rising at any hour between six and seven, bed at any time between nine and eleven, at the best a fourteen and a half hours' day, during which hours in an easy situation the maid will have two and a half hours for meals (though parlourmaids and general servants cannot always enjoy uninterrupted meals), and about one and a half hours for reading, working, etc., leaving a ten-hour working day. From this deduct half a day a week and half of each alternate Sunday. I contend that quite a third of this labour might be eliminated, and what remained greatly lightened by the adoption of labour-saving methods. The following experiences are interesting as depicting the extraordinary difference in the amount of work which is exacted in a labour-making and a labour-saving home. [Illustration: _PLATE XVIII_ THE "ACMEFONT" BUILDERS' SET A combination of circulating Boiler, 20-40 gallons storage Cylinder, the circulating pipes between Boiler and Cylinder, and stand for the whole. This is a very suitable apparatus for fitting into houses where there is little available space.] [Illustration: _PLATE XVIIIa_ A "GILLED" CIRCULATOR Can halve your work and double your comfort. It can provide a continuous supply of hot water in the kitchen, scullery, bathroom, and bedrooms at all times of the day and night. It needs no attention and is thoroughly reliable. It can be hired from most Gas Companies for a quarterly rental.] Labour Making.--A House-Hunting Experience. "It has fallen to my lot of late to inspect quite a large number of furnished houses and flats, and although my peregrinations have been limited to dwellings in what are known as 'good situations,' at fairly high rents, I have found such dirt and disorder as surely should only be excused by dire poverty. "As a general rule the sitting-rooms were more or less clean, but in few cases did bathrooms and lavatories, kitchen and servants' premises fulfil the pleasant anticipations induced by the sight of the drawing-room. "Stained and blackened walls, dirty-looking baths, fusty sinks, make one long for 'seven maids with seven mops,' and even with their help I, like the carpenter, am doubtful of the success of their labours. "Three, at all events, of the flats which I visited were so furnished that it was impossible to keep them clean, while several others might have been properly kept, given the services of a housemaid determined to clean in spite of every obstacle. "Very naturally, however, there are few such treasures to be met with, and I cannot but feel that it would be sad to waste them upon mistresses with so little idea of domestic sanitation as must have been the ladies who inhabited these flats. "Only one of the flats and two of the houses on the long lists submitted to me did I find really well arranged and well kept. This state of affairs may be explained to some small extent by the fact that people who take a pride in their houses or who have just had them done up do not let them. "Still, although a house may be shabby it still may be clean and arranged in such a way as to enable the servants to perform their duties with good results and no unnecessary trouble. Now, let me describe to you one flat which I regard as an example of everything which a dwelling in a dirty town should not be. "It was an apartment consisting of three sitting-rooms, four bedrooms, bath, pantry, and kitchen. The long passage-hall of good width was very dark, partly because its four large windows had been so treated that hardly any light penetrated through them, and partly because the walls were papered dark green. As I progressed down this dismal tunnel I caught my foot in some obstruction and fell against a large piece of furniture. The servant then turned on the electric light and I discovered that the floor was covered with felt and by no less than twelve rugs, in a large hole in one of which I had caught my foot. By this time I had quite decided that nothing would induce me to take such a flat; but, like Barry Pain's Eliza, my love of looking over other people's houses is so great that I continued my tour of inspection. "The dining-room was crammed with large and handsome pieces of furniture, so large and so many that nothing less clever than a pantomime contortionist could have waited at table when the diners had taken their places. "The walls were dark red and dirty; the curtains of thick padded and lined tapestry were stiff and sticky with grime. "In the drawing-room there was more really beautiful furniture and some exquisite Persian rugs on a dirty felt carpet. The curtains were of brocade, and there was a quantity of valuable china, much of it, sad to say, badly cracked. "It was a room in which only an experienced housemaid should have been trusted, and much time should have been allowed to clean it satisfactorily. But a cook and a young house-parlourmaid were responsible for all the work of the flat. In the bedrooms dresses and coats hung on pegs on the doors, and cardboard boxes were piled on the tops of wardrobes and under the beds. The bath was minus most of its paint, the double bedroom for the servants was furnished with a strange collection of lumber, and the kitchen was frankly dirty, one corner of it being taken up by a lovely old walnut wood tallboys in a shocking state of ill-usage. "Now, although this was certainly the worst of the flats and houses at which I looked, it was no uncommon thing to find dresses hanging out in the dust, boxes piled under beds, ill-kept baths and sinks, and floors so covered that it must take hours of work every week to keep them more or less clean. "Indeed the result of my house-hunting led me to think that the average woman decorates, furnishes, and arranges her house in order to make it as difficult as it can be made to keep it clean." [Illustration: _PLATE XIX_ AN ALL GAS KITCHEN IN A FLAT An all-gas kitchen in a modern flat fitted up by the Davis Gas Stove Co., Ltd. The illustration shows a gas cooker, with hot plate: a gas fire, with refuse destructor above. To the left of the fire-place is a circulator with storage tank over it, the pipes of which are carried through the linen airing cupboard, which is here shown open.] How we manage with One Servant in our Labour-Saving House. "I have always been interested in your labour-saving ideas. I married, and we were comfortably off. We have a tiny London house and I arranged to have gas fires, cooker, and circulator, service lift, and also a rubbish destructor, as I hate nasty-smelling dustbins. "We can only have one bathroom, but there is hot and cold water, a sink and slop sink on the top floor. "Gas fires are much improved and ours are really attractive to look at and well ventilated; but of course I would rather have coal to sit by, and we did have two coal fires at first; but now, since the war, I have all gas, because we are far worse off and living is so dear, and instead of two maids I now have only a general servant. We used to entertain in a mild sort of way a very great deal, but most of that naturally has come to an end. "My husband is delicate, and I don't like him to have cold meals at night, so when 'General Jane' is out (and I let her go out as often as possible), we have dinner laid, and soup, a hot dish such as braised cutlets, chicken en casserole, stewed steak (often it's silverside really), with vegetables in it, and a dish of potatoes put ready on a heater on a side table I keep for the purpose. There is a cold sweet, so we do very well. I clear everything away and put dishes, etc., into the lift, which takes about six or seven minutes. "Our bedrooms are linoleum floored and very empty. My own researches into domesticity prove to me that a crowded room is a bane to the housemaid. Our ex-parlourmaid, an admirable worker, told me that our rooms 'took half the time to clean than most.'" What the house-parlourmaid said: "Your rooms take half the time to clean of most, ma'am, and then look clean, which is more than some do." [Illustration: _PLATE XX & XXa_ SUGG'S "COMPACT" GAS KITCHENER is fitted with one large and one small oven, a great boon where the amount of cooking varies. Underneath the small oven is seen a closet for warming plates. The Hot Plate shown separately is fitted with six boiling burners and a grill burner.] II "I have an idea about gas cookers: they should be made longer and not so high, then they could be mounted at a convenient height. But I suppose they are planned to take up as little space as possible. It's all the stooping that makes domestic work so tiring. "Jane does not go out until six o'clock on weekdays, and 3.30 every Sunday. We always go out to tea on Sundays, and the supper is left ready. We keep the house clean and have nice cooking and things well served and are very comfortable. I have people to lunch now and then and intimate friends to dinner, and by means of my hot plate and careful choosing of food, our Jane is dressed for lunch and able to wait at table, and I doubt if it occurred to anyone that there was not a cook in the kitchen. Not that it would have mattered if it had!" It is not considered derogatory for an educated, refined woman to become a hospital nurse. Is the nursing of the sick more important to the Nation than the proper feeding, housing, and bringing up of the rising generation? [Illustration: _PLATE XXI_ A KITCHEN IN A SMALL NON-BASEMENT HOUSE The gas appliances here consist of a gas cooker and plate rack; a gas fire on which is fixed a boiler serving the storage tank above, and the circulating system to every tap in the house; copper suitable for home-washing, etc. The wash copper is fitted with a pipe which carries the steam into the kitchener flue, and is also fitted with a tap which serves to draw off dirty water. This combination of gas appliances is a veritable boon in servantless or one-servant houses or flats.] CHAPTER VI WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _The Management and Work of a Five Bedroom, Three Sitting-room London House--A Labour-Saving Country House--A Labour-Saving Flat--One Visiting Maid instead of Two Servants--A Suburban House--A Cookless Household--A Labour-Saving Household in a Provincial Town._ CHAPTER VI OTHER PEOPLE'S EXPERIENCES OF LABOUR-SAVING HOMES I A Five Bedroom and Three Sitting-room London House. "I have been much interested in your labour-saving articles. I send you a description of our new house. We have adopted many of your ideas. "The family consists of myself and husband and two just-grown-up daughters. "It so happened that some months ago we lost a little money, and we also came to the conclusion that we had been for some time spending more than we should have spent. Our house was rather expensive for our means; we kept five servants, entertained considerably in a simple manner, and lived easily. Finally, we decided to sell the house and take one which was smaller and possible to run with a lessened staff, and, at the same time, if the servant difficulty became more acute, such a house as would attract domestics by reason of its labour-saving arrangements. A house was found, light, airy, quiet, in the required position, of suitable size, but absolutely lacking in modern improvements. As it stood it consisted of: "_Basement._--Large front kitchen, back room (dark), lavatory, good wide shallow front area, easy stairs up to first floor, a washhouse built out from back room, two cellars, small wine cellar, no larder. "_Ground Floor._--Dining and back dining-room (double doors), fairly wide hall, and passage out to garden at back, and lavatory (very old-fashioned). "_First Floor._--Front and back drawing-rooms--total length, 28 feet; width of front room, 18 feet; back room, 12 feet. "_Second Floor._--Two bedrooms. "_Third Floor._--Two bedrooms, large cupboard on top landing. "Neither electric light, bathroom, nor hot water. A satisfactory lease could be had, and owner would put in new drainage and put house in outside repair. Rent only £100 a year if tenant would spend a certain sum on the house. "For convenience I will call ourselves Mr. and Mrs. A. After much consideration Mr. and Mrs. A. came to the conclusion that they would take the house and spend £350 in structural alterations. "After this had been decided, and the work begun, the war broke out, and Mr. A.'s income fell (at all events temporarily) to about £1,100 a year. He was, however, still in a position to spend £350 owing to the sale of the first house, for which a good premium had been obtained, and, being a person of some wisdom, he realised that the £350 would certainly swell into £500, though of that sum a part would be spent on decoration and moving expenses. "The arrangement of the house was to be as follows: "_Basement._--_Front Room_ (already fitted with white-glazed sink and tiled back) to be used for pantry, servants' hall, workroom. Gas stove, linoleum on floor, green paint (varnished), light floral paper. Room was very light when furnished, and pleasant. It was supplied with a large linen cupboard and fitment cupboard for work materials and dress stands, pantry things, spare glass and china, chintzes, pillows, blankets, etc. This was fitted right across the end of the room. "_Back Room: Kitchen._--Here a hot-water furnace to burn coke and rubbish and to heat water for pantry and kitchen, three lavatory basins, two bathrooms, and one large radiator in hall was installed; gas cooker, white-glazed sink, white-tiled paper, green varnished paint; service lift from kitchen to back dining-room, cleverly arranged to open either from pantry or kitchen, and to serve dining-room or back dining-room (to be used as smoking-room). A door was cut into the washhouse, which was connected by a lobby with a door with perforated zinc panels, opening into back area to ventilate kitchen and prevent the hot air from reaching the larder; large window in larder, white-tiled walls. Back area enlarged to give more light and air to kitchen. All basement paint green varnished, white-tiled paper, stairs recased, telephone bells to all floors. "_Ground Floor._--_Dining-room._ Panelled walls, mahogany finished doors and lift hatch. By means of lift servant need not leave the room while waiting. Gas fire and ring with heater for hot plates, etc., over it; linoleum parquet surround, square carpet. "_Smoking-Room._--Ditto in all respects save for furniture and gas ring. Telephone here, can be heard in basement; lift also opens into this room. If dinner-party for more than eight is given, the double doors can be opened and dinner served from this opening of the lift. "_Hall._--Linoleum and rugs; passage into garden continued and widened, making extension large enough for a cloakroom, hot water, w.c., basin, etc. Over the hall extension, small new bedroom, just large enough for folding bed, dressing-table, fitted washstand, tiny hanging cupboard. Large window and glass doors, muffled, to give light to stairs. "_Double Drawing-room._--The only coal fire and fitted carpet in the whole of the house; pile carpet up to next half-landing, after that fitted linoleum with rubber treads to edges of stairs. "_Second Half-Landing._--Bathroom. Tiled dado, lavatory, and wash basins, glass shelves. "_Second Floor: Bedrooms._--Green linoleum, rugs, small beds, gas fire and gas ring for kettles. "_Third Floor: Half-Landing._--Bathroom. Tiled dado, lavatory, hand basin, and hot cupboard for airing and for housemaid's brushes. "_Third Floor._--Girl's room in front, gas fire and ring. Room for two maids at back. Linoleum everywhere, small beds. "All paint on stairs, hall, gentlemen's cloakroom black. Electric light everywhere. "The house now consisted of a double drawing-room, dining-room, smoking-room, five bedrooms, kitchen, pantry, servants' hall and workroom combined, gentlemen's cloakroom and two bathrooms. "The income did not permit of more than two servants being employed, namely, single-handed cook and house-parlourmaid; wages £26 each. In addition they arranged two days a week for a charwoman. One week, on Wednesday, she turned out the drawing-room, which contained valuable glass, furniture, and china (not at all a labour-saving room!); the other week turned out the dining-room and tidied the drawing-room. In the afternoon she washed and ironed blouses, handkerchiefs, etc., which had already been put to soak, and in some cases washed, by one of the girls. On Friday she turned out the hall and cloakroom, and scrubbed out the basement, and did the cook's work, that being the cook's day out. The dinner, of a suitable order, was left ready by the cook. The regular work of the house was arranged thus: "_Cook._--Clean doorstep, do hall and dining-room and cloakroom, all kitchen work and sweeping and dusting of servants' hall, clean boots. "_House-parlourmaid._--Do smoking-room and drawing-room and first flight of stairs before breakfast at 8.45. Bedrooms, etc. Dressed for lunch at 1.30; usual parlourmaid's duties. Each Wednesday fortnight, as she has nothing to do in the drawing-room, turns out smoking-room before breakfast. Special work: Monday, silver; Tuesday, one bedroom; Wednesday, silver; Thursday, one bedroom; Friday, silver; Saturday, stairs and bathrooms. [Illustration: _PLATE XXII_ SUGG'S HOOD AND PLATE RACK FOR GAS KITCHENERS is strongly made of wrought iron with nozzle for flue and with grid shelf, having cast-iron brackets for fixing securely to the top of kitchener, japanned white inside and black outside, or any colour to order.] "It was arranged the family would use the bathrooms and that no bedroom or washstand work would be needed. Each person stripped and turned back her bed and left it to air and ready to be made. One daughter helped to make beds and did a certain amount of washing of oddments, using the nearest bathroom and keeping a folding table for ironing in her bedroom, where there was a gas ring for the irons. "The three ladies undertook all mending, and arranging of flowers. Each member of the family promised to leave lavatory basins washed and wiped out after use and to avoid by untidiness and carelessness giving any extra trouble. "Arranging the work in this way the trials of a two-maid household were banished, for there was ample time for pantry work and the house-parlourmaid to be dressed in time for lunch, while days out made no difference to the household. "With a little careful management of the menu and the help of the lift the one maid could wait on eight people at lunch or dinner if necessary, and there was no necessity for the harassing 'Oh, we mustn't ask people to tea on Wednesday or to lunch on Friday' atmosphere. Needless to say, without a lift, telephone bells, and fitted 'washing rooms,' linoleum-covered floors, uncrowded rooms, gas cooker, and hot-water furnace, which does not require flue cleaning and needs but little attention, it would be impossible to keep a London house of the size spick and span, and run in the way in which people accustomed to a larger establishment expect. The furnace consumes about two scuttlefuls of coke a day, and needs paper, wood, and a little coal to start it. Half an hour suffices to heat the bath water. After breakfast rubbish of all kinds is burned, and but little heat is needed for the remainder of the day, unless baths at night are required. A kettle is kept on the furnace, or when any dish is to be simmered slowly it can stand on the furnace, and the gas stove burned only when quite necessary. In hot weather the furnace is let out after lunch." [Illustration: _PLATE XXIII_ AN ALL GAS KITCHEN IN A BASEMENT HOUSE This sketch shows the gas cooker with hot plate over. A small bungalow cooker for use when one or two persons only are to be served, and a coke boiler which heats the hot water required in the house (including 2 baths and 2 radiators) and is surmounted by a useful flat plate upon which a stock-pot or casserole can be kept simmering for hours without use of extra fuel. The coke boiler in this instance serves to heat the kitchen without further firing. On the left of the boiler is shown the service lift.] A Labour-Saving Country House. "I have just read your article, and should like to tell you of a house my husband and I have just built. We have occupied it for eight months, and therefore have tested the various labour-saving contrivances. It was built and designed under my direction, in order to save all unnecessary labour. The house is warmed by central heating and electric radiators, and there is a radiator and complete gas range in the kitchen. We have a double earthenware sink, with two sets of taps, in the kitchen, and no scullery. The furniture is oak, and only needs dusting, and there is no brasswork anywhere. The fireplaces are entirely of white tiles, and we have no use for fireirons. The steps to the front and side doors are of marble, and the stair-rods are of oak. Each principal bedroom (three in number) has its own bathroom, completely fitted, adjoining, so that we have no washstands in the house. The servants' bedrooms have each a lavatory basin with hot and cold water, and a radiator. Drinking water is laid on to each bedroom. Hot water, which is really hot, is from a furnace in the cellar, and the central heating is worked in the same way. These furnaces work quite smoothly, and give no trouble. We have a well-heated linen room, which keeps linen and blankets well aired, and a light and easily handled vacuum cleaner. "We have had no fire anywhere all the winter, and the temperature of the house, hall, stairs, passages, etc., has been very steadily at 60° Fahrenheit, day and night. During a frosty spell we keep the furnace going a little more strongly. All the principal rooms have powerful electric wires to enable one to boil kettles, cook, iron, etc. "So far I have kept three servants, but I find they are so opposed to all my labour-saving devices--refusing even to touch the vacuum cleaner!--that I am parting with them, and am engaging two ladies instead; and although the house is large enough to require six servants if differently fitted, they and I confidently expect to run it easily and comfortably, with plenty of time to spare for recreation." "Consider, on the other hand, ... if these women did the work of their homes, and saved the money which they waste on ... incompetent servants, the chief cause of their worry and troubles ... they could travel ... and come back to England ... with the thing which more than anything else we stand in need of ... ideas." "Life without Servants." By a Survivor. [Illustration: _PLATE XXIV_ GAS REFUSE DESTRUCTION The Davis Domestic "Burn-All" with cover and lid of feeding aperture removed, inspection door open, ash tray drawn out and parts described. The Davis Domestic "Burn-All" can also be supplied in a larger size (of double capacity) for use where the model illustrated would not be adequate for the service required. Particulars on application to The Davis Gas Stove Co. 60, Oxford Street, W.] II A Labour-Saving Flat. "I live by myself and have until lately kept two servants. In consequence, most of my income has been spent on housekeeping. I prefer many other things to food, soap, dusters, and servants, so now I have altered my arrangements. "My flat consists of two sitting-rooms, kitchen, and three bedrooms. The block ought, of course, to have been supplied with a constant service of hot water for heating and cleaning, but we are behind the times in England in these matters. So now I have gas fires in all the rooms and a gas circulator and a gas cooker. Electric light everywhere. I have made the third room into a box-room, dress-room, etc., and have table, dress-stand, and machine, and a work-woman sews there one day a week and keeps me mended and tidy, and also makes covers and lampshades, and so on. Sometimes she comes two or even three days if I need her, and except for tailor-mades, hats, and a good dress now and again, she makes all I wear. I find this a great economy. "All my floors are covered with linoleum. I have weeded out unnecessary furniture, only keeping really good pieces. I have muslin screens made to fit the windows, so dirt does not come in, and having no coal fires, the rooms keep extraordinarily clean. I have a fitted bathroom and no washstand work. My breakfast I have in bed as early as I please, and it consists of tea, a boiled egg, and jam or fruit and toast. It is all put ready on a covered tray and I have an electric arrangement for boiling water and making toast by my bedside. I turn on the gas circulator and my gas fire and go back to bed and have breakfast and read my papers and letters. "By the time I want to get up my room is warm and the bath water hot. I generally breakfast at seven, as I like to read a good deal before getting up. My daily servant comes at eight and stays till after lunch. She is able to clean and cook and leave my simple dinner ready, sometimes in a hay box and sometimes put ready for me to heat. I am seldom in to tea, and if I am it is a simple matter to prepare that meal. "I have no objection to answering my door, but if I wish to be 'Not at home' the hall indicator proclaims that fact. The porter takes in parcels if I ask him to do so, and cleans boots, carries luggage, and gets cabs, or in these days doesn't get them! I do various little jobs of polishing, cleaning, etc., because I like a very clean house. In the drawing-room I have an electric fire cleverly made to flicker like real flames. It is nice to sit with because it has the movement that one misses. Sometimes I have a friend to stay, and if I have friends to dine I engage a waitress and keep my out-worker all day. I often have friends to lunch, but more often entertain at my club. I am more comfortable than when I had two maids and my expenses are far less. I think my two young ladies must have been very hospitable, for my bills were decidedly high. Also they seemed to live on soap and dusters, and to consume incredible quantities of electric light and gas. Of course, if I had fires and coals and a kitchen range and crowded rooms, and wanted elaborate meals, I could not manage as I do; but as things are, I am both clean and comfortable." [Illustration: _PLATE XXV_ AN ALL GAS KITCHEN IN A LARGE HOUSE Three gas boilers are shewn, one or all of which can be in use as occasion demands. These supply the storage tanks and a continuous service of hot water to four bathrooms, wash-basins in lavatories and sinks. The hot closet is served by coils from hot water service so that dishes can be kept hot. There is a supplementary method of heating this closet by means of gas burners, which can be used when the large gas boilers are not required. Hot water for a bathroom is provided by a geyser when only one or two of the family are at home. A condensing stove heats the kitchen in winter. This house is warmed throughout by hot water pipes heated by a coke boiler which is used during the winter months only and gas fires are fitted in each room for occasional use. The makers represented are: Boilers: One John Wright Boiler: One Davis Boiler: One Potterton Boiler Cooker: John Wright & Co. Hot Cupboard fitted up by the Gas Company to special measurements Condensing Stove: Richmond Gas Stove & Meter Co., Ltd. Refuse Destructor: Davis Gas Stove Co., Ltd.] A Three Sitting-room, Hall, and Six Bedroom Suburban House. "I call this house suburban because it is within 'daily bread' distance of London and therefore the neighbourhood is much built over. This enables us to have electric light and a telephone, and the London stores deliver three times a week. I was told that servants were simply appalling, so bad and so hard to find. So I thought we had better be as independent of them as possible. We had taken a small house and were rearranging it, so I decided to have a coke furnace for hot water and radiators and little electric fires in the drawing-room and smoking-rooms, for cold weather and for the cheering effect a fire gives. The gardener undertakes the furnace and stokes at seven, at midday, and when he leaves at night. The house is beautifully warm, and we have no trouble with radiators or hot water. I have no scullery, but cook by electricity, and have a sink in the kitchen, where there is an alcove with a table and armchairs for the maids, and they have their own little piece of garden to sit in. There is a pantry, and the house-parlourmaid can sit there if she wishes. There is a buttery hatch into the dining-room, and the cook has only to hand the dishes through it. I keep an oil stove in readiness should the electric cooker go wrong, but so far it has not. The cook's work is greatly lessened when cooking by electricity. We have three bathrooms and no washhandstand bedroom work. The house has polished wood floors, and rugs and linoleum. It is simply but well furnished, and I have glass over the mahogany toilet tables, sideboard, and side tables. Very little metal work, and the doors and woodwork are unpainted. This saves much labour. We have a polished dinner-table and save the cost of buying and washing tablecloths, side and toilet cloths. Unfortunately, I had knives of the old-fashioned kind, but use a knife machine, and long-handled mops, Bissel sweeper, etc. In normal times we entertained a good deal, and then had a woman to help wash up; but now, of course, there is practically no entertaining. "I hate linoleum. I like nice, bright coal fires. I abhor sparsely furnished rooms. I think your ideas are detestable!!" I knew you would say that. Most people are antagonistic to the ideas of other people until they have had time to become used to them and regard them as their own. Still, the title of this book is not "The House of My Dreams," or "A Castle in Spain," but "The Labour-Saving House." [Illustration: _PLATE XXVI_ METER READING In order to check expenditure on gas and to detect wastage, leakage, or faulty registration, the gas-meter ought to be read regularly, say once a week, and a record kept of the amount of gas consumed. Meter reading is quite simple, and it should be no more difficult for an educated woman to learn to read her own gas-meter than a reasonably intelligent child to learn to tell the time by the clock. The only thing to remember is that as meat is measured in "pounds" and calico in "yards," so gas is measured in "thousands" (of cubic feet). If, therefore, you have burned ten "thousands," and gas in your district is, say, half-a-crown a thousand, your bill will be ten half crowns. If gas is 3/- a thousand, then your bill will be ten times 3/-, and so on. A copy of instructions mounted on a card can always be had from the local gas manager, and hung up in a convenient place near the gas meter until it is mastered by constant use. The meter consists of five dials. Of these the top one should be neglected; then the figures indicated by the four lower ones should be written down from left to right, and 00 added to the end. If the hand is between two figures the lowest should always be written down, with the exception that when it is between 9 and 0, 9 must be recorded. That is all there is to do: and by this simple procedure it is possible to find out exactly how much gas has been used during the week, and whether it is more or less than the amount consumed during the preceding week. If it happens to be more, then the careful housewife will set about considering the circumstances and seeing in what points she has failed to practice the economies suggested to her.] III "My labour-saving ideas were put to the test, for the gardener was called up, and the cook was ill, and I could not get anyone else for nearly a fortnight. My husband fed the furnace night and morning, and he and I gardened (he was in London five days a week from nine till seven). The house-parlourmaid (a capital girl), and myself, cleaned and cooked, and by careful planning we kept the house nice, and fed well--that is, as well as one does feed nowadays. I was able to go on with my war work, and my maid went out often, as I do not approve of shutting up young girls for days together. We covered up the drawing-room and the unused bedrooms and bathroom. When you have no coals to bother with, housework becomes a very different matter. I put your idea of cooking mornings into practice, and found that if I cooked three mornings a week I need do very little on the intermediate days. Then cooking by electricity is so easy. There is no stooping to lift things out of ovens, and the cooker can be put where you want it as regards the light, and the pots and pans don't get dirty outside. I used earthenware, and cooked and served in one pot, and so saved washing up. Alice, the maid, and I quite enjoyed ourselves, and we made no trouble of stoking the furnace at midday. "One thing struck me: how tiresome to servants it must be when they see people using just as many knives and spoons and forks and plates as they can--for I must own I began to feel rather mean about the washing up. I think meals had become too long, and the service far too elaborate, and the result not worth all the time and trouble it entailed. It makes me sad to think of all the girls and women there are who are tired to death doing work which they could be saved. I often think of the working-class women toiling along, and having to bear and rear babies all the time!" [Illustration: _PLATE XXVII_ MAKING GOOD USE OF THE OVEN ON BAKING DAYS Note the two pies one behind the other, not side by side.] A Labour-Saving House in a Provincial Town. "My experiences may interest you. The family consists of myself, husband, a girl of six, and a boy of three. I kept a nurse, cook, house-parlourmaid, and a 'tweeny.' The wage bill was high, the housekeeping bills, including replacements, coal and light, food and cleaning materials, excessive, and we found it hard to get even a fairly good cook. "Suddenly I decided to try the following plan. The house was modern and rather well planned. Dining and drawing-room, small square hall, kitchen and pantry on ground floor, a little garden back and front, and a mosaic doorstep, only one step. First floor, four bedrooms and a bathroom and dressing-room. Above, two rooms and box-room. Gas is dear here, and electric current moderate in price, so I had electric fires and cooker put in. There already was hot water on ground floor. I managed to plan a service lift from outside the kitchen to first floor. "I then looked over my possessions, and put away unnecessary things and simplified the style of living somewhat. Then I engaged a trained lady nurse, capable of teaching the children for a year or two. The nurse agreed to dust her nurseries, and I gave up to her a nursery, night nursery, and the dressing-room opening into the night nursery. The floors of all bedrooms, bathrooms, landing, top stairs, kitchen and offices were all covered with linoleum. The nurse agreed to dust and tidy the nurseries and take the dishes, etc., out of the lift, and to replace them. I arranged a pantry cupboard for her and she had electric fires and heater for food, irons, etc. The bathroom with hot and cold water was next door. My husband and I had the other two rooms, and he had a bath and hand-basin fitted in the one he used for his dressing-room. We thought it cheaper to have a gas circulator rather than an electrical heater for the hot water, and we had a radiator fitted in the hall and on the first landing. These keep the house so warm that we need wonderfully little in the way of extra firing. Nurse has everything she needs to hand, and says she prefers it to having to ask the maids to fetch and carry for her. She has friends near, and we can often let her go out when the babes are put to bed, as I can sit in the drawing-room and hear at once if they call. "I then dismissed my cook and 'tweeny,' as I did not like them very much, and asked the house-parlourmaid if she would like to stay at an increased wage if I undertook the greater part of the cooking and had a charwoman two days a week. Our hall floor is mosaic, and there is a little shed for the perambulator, so it does not come into the house. We are all called by alarum clocks, and we make our early tea on the electric heater in our room, so that the maid has no hot water or tea to bring or calling to do. When dressed, she goes straight downstairs and lights the gas to heat the water, does hall, dining-room and smoking-room. Many people live in a continual state of worry because they feel obliged to have a little more of everything than they can afford: not because they want it, but because other people think they ought to want it. [Illustration: _PLATE XXVIII_ LARGE JOINT SUSPENDED, AS IN ROASTING BEFORE AN OPEN FIRE, WITH PIE ON TOP SHELF] IV "This is rather a clean town, and with no fires the rooms do not get dirty, and are quickly swept and dusted, and of course there are no coal boxes to fill or carry, and no grates to do. We find the doorstep only needs doing three times a week, except in very dirty weather, and there is no polished metal on the door. We have a simple breakfast of porridge (cooked the day before), toast, done on our own electric toaster on the table, fresh and crisp and hot. We make our own tea and coffee, and boil eggs if needed, and very often have a cold dish, but about three times a week the maid cooks bacon, or fish, or eggs. My husband goes off to work after breakfast, and is seldom home till six. The maid cleans boots, and we have the new washable knives. I clear breakfast things and wash them up, tidy the flowers and see to plants, etc., and set to work at my cooking. I follow the plan you once suggested, and have three cooking mornings. It is wonderful with practice what you get through, washing up as you go and never getting into a muddle. On the other days the cooking seldom takes me more than an hour. Two mornings a week I housekeep, doing accounts, shopping, etc., and on one I clean silver. We breakfast at eight and lunch at 1.30, so I get a long morning. The maid has all morning for housework, and nurse helps her make the beds. We wait on ourselves at lunch, and nurse and the children come down. After lunch the maid clears and washes up and tidies the kitchen. Nurse gets and washes up the nursery tea, and if I am in and alone I have it with her. I don't expect any washing or mending done by the general servant, as I consider she should have two hours' free time in the afternoon. Our dinner is very simple--three things, such as soup or fish, meat or bird, sweet, savoury or cheese. The charwoman cleans kitchen, back doorstep, pantry, passage, and hall; washes out rubbers and odds and ends, and washes up and tidies after dinner. My maid has her family near, so she goes out two evenings a week from half-past five to a quarter to ten, and the charwoman stays here till 8.30 on those days. It suits her to come to me at eleven o'clock, and I pay her 3s. instead of 2s. 6d. as she stays late, and of course she gets her supper. I have fitted her out with dress and aprons. She won't wear a cap. "Indeed, we manage most comfortably, and the saving is great. I cook well, and make the best of all we have, and the economy in gas and light and cleaning things and breakages is considerable. Our nice maid, Ethel, is quite one of the family, and says that getting out on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Fridays, 'there is always something to look forward to.' In winter I consider she should go out by daylight, so I often send her off early on the charwoman's day. If I went away from home I should engage a temporary cook, and if we wanted to have a party I should have a cook by the day, and a waitress. I work at a war depot every day, and often have my tea there. But even after the war I doubt if I shall alter my ways, provided I remain in good health, for I cannot see why it should be _infra dig._ to work in one's own house when it is absolutely 'the thing' to be a general servant or kitchenmaid in a hospital or canteen." Man and the ape shared a common ancestor. Is it a reversion to type which causes us to scramble about on all fours when we scrub and clean? Our developed intelligence should deter us from adopting monkey-like attitudes and time-wasting methods. [Illustration: _PLATE XXIX_ A STEAMER WHICH CAN BE USED TO COOK A WHOLE DINNER OVER ONE GAS RING This is made of block tin and boils with very little gas. Several forms of steamer, with from three to six compartments, can now be bought. The multiple steamer costs much less than three to six single saucepans, and burns much less gas.] CHAPTER VII WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _Labour and Time-Saving Housekeeping--Ordering in Advance--Cooking Mornings--Labour-Saving Utensils--The Late-Dinner Bogey--Simplified Requirements._ CHAPTER VII OTHER PEOPLE'S EXPERIENCES OF LABOUR-SAVING HOMES (_Continued_) I For many a year I have thought that the average good domesticated woman wasted far too much of her own time and that of her servants in housekeeping, while, on the other hand, many women give too little time and attention to their households. Clever organisation will do much to lighten the work of a household. Take, for example, the ordering of meals and the cooking thereof. The average mistress orders the meals each day with no regard except for the needs of that special day, and the average cook cooks in just the same short-sighted manner. Now, I hold that in a well-regulated establishment, with an intelligent cook, it should not be necessary to order the meals more than three times a week, unless special entertaining has to be considered. The mistress knows the number of her household, and can calculate with sufficient nicety what can be done with the available material, while the cook should be able to make the most of the various odds and ends which can be utilised for breakfast dishes, savouries, servants' supper, and so forth. Where an inexperienced or otherwise unsatisfactory cook reigns, then a brief daily inspection of larder and back premises in general may be necessary; but still all the main part of the planning and ordering can be done twice or three times a week. In this book I do not wish to deal specially with war conditions, so let us take, for example, a well-to-do country household of four persons (husband, wife, two children) and five servants, cook, between-maid, housemaid, parlourmaid, and nurse. In such a case the maids are, as a rule, experienced, and the cook a woman who receives anything between £26 and £35 a year. There is generally a guest staying in the house, and a couple of people to lunch on Sunday, various friends to tea, and probably two or three more friends to lunch during the week. The mistress of this house elects to have housekeeping mornings on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, though, of course, it is understood that she will visit the back premises on any other mornings if it is advisable to do so. On Monday the contents of the larder are as follows: Piece of cold roast ribs of beef, remains of two boiled chickens, half a ham, half a cold fruit tart, some lemon sponge, some potted meat, and part of a tin of sardines. Now, meat should always be ordered in advance so that the butcher may have it properly hung. If the larder is not very good the butcher will keep the meat until the day on which it is needed, otherwise a joint should always be hanging in the larder, and in this case a forequarter of lamb has been in the house since Saturday. Madame plans her menu, and writes it in her order book as follows:-- ORDER DAY.--MONDAY.--LUNCH FOR FIVE, 1.30 P.M.--(The two children are present.) Cold Beef. Salad. Mashed Potato. Minced Chicken with Pearl Barley stewed in stock. Milk Pudding. Cold Fruit Tart. Lemon Sponge in glasses. Cheese, Biscuits and Butter. Servants' hall same as dining-room, except for chicken. DINNER FOR THREE, 8 P.M.--Cream of Cucumber Soup (made from chicken stock). Soufflé of Dried Haddock. Lamb Cutlets. Potatoes. Cabbage Purée. Apple Meringue. Sardine Savoury. TUESDAY.--BREAKFAST, 9 A.M.--Cold Ham. Scones. Fruit. Boiled Eggs. LUNCHEON, 1.30 P.M. (two extra).--Tomatoes au gratin. Mousse of Salmon. Roast Partridges. Sauce. Crumbs. Fried Potatoes. Salad. Apple Gâteau. Cheese Biscuits. Fruit. Coffee. SERVANTS' DINNER.--Roast Shoulder of Lamb. Potatoes. Vegetable. Pudding. DINNER FOR THREE, 7.45 P.M.--Clear Soup. Fillets of Sole, and Macaroni au gratin. Tournedos of Beef. Potatoes. Vegetable Marrow. Ginger Cream. Curried Croûtons. ORDER DAY.--WEDNESDAY.--BREAKFAST.--Cold Ham. Cold Game. Salmon Coquilles. LUNCHEON FOR FOUR, 1.30 P.M.--Scotch Broth (scrag end of Neck of Lamb). Roast Beef. Yorkshire Pudding. Brown Potatoes. Stewed Spanish Onion. Bread-and-Butter Pudding. Ginger Cream. Servants' dinner same, except for soup. DINNER FOR TWO, 7.45 P.M.--Carrot Purée. Timbale of Lamb (remains of cold lamb). Vegetables. Fricassée of Eggs. Apple Tart. THURSDAY.--BREAKFAST.--Ham. Toast. Potted Game (remains of partridges). Boiled Eggs. LUNCHEON, 1.30 P.M. (one extra).--Riz à la Turque. Cold Beef. Salad. Potatoes. Fruit Compote. Junket. Cheese, etc. DINNER FOR TWO, 7.45 P.M.--Curry Soup. Fillets of fresh Haddock. Roast Grouse. Crumbs. Salad. Fried Potatoes. Nut Sauce. Pineapple Jelly (some of pine used in Fruit Compote). Anchovy Straws. ORDER DAY.--FRIDAY.--BREAKFAST.--Egg Kedgeree. Bacon. LUNCHEON, 1.30 P.M.--Fish Pie. Knuckle of Veal stewed with rice. Parsley Sauce. Boiled Damson Pudding. Servants' hall same. DINNER FOR FOUR, 8 P.M. (two guests Friday to Monday).--Celery Soup. Fillets of Whiting. Chutney Sauce. Soufflé of Veal. Curry Sauce. Roast Partridges. Sauce. Crumbs. Salad. Potatoes. Compote of Pears. Devilled Liver Croutons. SATURDAY.--BREAKFAST.--Game Toast. Bacon. Poached Eggs. Cold Tongue. Scones. Fruit. LUNCHEON.--Hominy Cutlets. Beef Steak Pie. Cold Game. Salad. Vegetables. Portuguese Apples. Milk Pudding. Cheese.--Servants' dinner.--Beef Steak Pie. Baked Apple Pudding. DINNER FOR FOUR, 8 P.M.--Clear Beetroot Soup. Mock Whitebait. Tartar Sauce. Chicken Cutlets. Braised Tongue and Sweet Corn. Spinach. Mousse of Blackberries. Cheese croquettes. SUNDAY.--BREAKFAST.--Grape Nuts and Cream. Cold Tongue. Haddock. Egg Dish. LUNCHEON FOR EIGHT, 1.30 P.M.--Mousse of Chicken and Tomato Salad. Braised Beef (hot). Cold Tongue. Salad. Vegetables. Damson Tart. Pearl Barley Cream. Cheese Biscuits. Fruit. Cake. SUPPER.--Soup. Stuffed Eggs in aspic. Cold Braised Beef. Salad. Potatoes. Trifle. Stewed Fruit. Savoury Tartlets. MONDAY.--BREAKFAST FOR FOUR, 8.30 A.M.--Porridge. Creamed Eggs. Bacon. Cold Tongue. Fruit. It is not necessary, of course, for the mistress to write directions as to the stock to be used for this or that soup, etc. These details I have added for the use of the inexperienced reader. When a dish is queried it means that the cook must use her own discretion as to whether there is enough chicken, or whatever it may be, or if she must substitute some other _plat_. [Illustration: _PLATE XXX_ SQUARE AND SHALLOW KETTLE, WHICH EXPOSES A LARGE SURFACE TO THE GAS, BOILS QUICKLY AND SAVES MONEY] [Illustration: _PLATE XXXa_ A SINGLE STEAMER--TWO DISHES COOKING--ONLY ONE GAS RING BURNING] The object of ordering in this fashion is that it saves the time of both mistress and cook, the tradesmen's orders can be given in advance, and the cook can arrange her work to the best advantage. The butcher should have his orders weekly, if possible, and the fish order will probably be sent by post or rail, the keeper of the poultry yard can be warned of what will be needed from his department also, and so muddle and fluster is discouraged throughout the establishment. In a town household I have practised this method with success also, and recommend it to any busy woman, while I have never yet known a cook who did not appreciate it when once she had given it a trial. In towns, because the shops are so near, cooks are far too liable to leave everything to the last minute, and the mistresses' telephone bell and the unfortunate tradesmen's boys and horses suffer greatly in consequence, or the time of the kitchen underling is wasted in "just running out" to get something which should have been ordered the day before. In houses where the cook is inexperienced, and food is bought in far smaller quantities, the daily visit to the kitchen becomes necessary partly because the mistress must see that the premises are kept clean each day, and partly because the cook may not realise how to make the best of the "pieces." Half the secret of catering well on a small allowance lies in knowing how to use pieces, and of taking advantage from day to day of fluctuations in price, which latter cannot be done in the same way when standing orders must be given. Even in tiny households, however, the mistress may do much to lighten the labour of the cook, and to save expense both of coal and material by planning her bills of fare with care, and showing her cook how she may prepare in one morning various items which will come in during the next two days, when perhaps there will be less time to spare for culinary efforts owing to the necessity for turning out a room, cleaning the kitchen, or washing. The example given is that of a good-sized country house; but in town it is possible to shop personally and take advantage of the state of the market. Even so, three housekeeping and two shopping days should suffice. Perishable odds and ends can be bought when going out on other business. These methodical methods answer well in several small households known to me, where the mistresses are women busy over social work, or who have professions. One clever manager sends me the following letter:-- [Illustration: _PLATE XXXI_ AN OVEN WITH HOT PLATE AND GRILL (The Dowsing Radiant Heat Co.)] Cooking in Advance.--An Interesting Letter. "In these days, when so many women are managing with a smaller domestic staff than usual, and often doing much of the actual work themselves, they might try the experiment with advantage of 'cooking mornings,' a plan already mentioned several times by you. It is a method which makes for efficiency and better results with less work. "In the first place, to give up the whole of Friday morning and a couple of hours on Tuesday to the preparation of food alone, means that one has not to leave the housework or sewing on other days to mix one odd dish or so, thereby effecting a certain saving of time; secondly, much less fuel is used than would have been required to heat the stove for the same number of dishes prepared separately; thirdly, the labour of washing up and cleaning culinary utensils is much reduced. A really good manager can always plan the meals well for several days ahead, so if provisions and stores are ordered in beforehand, that again is far better than constant daily marketing for small supplies. "My personal plan, which answers very well, is to sketch out menus roughly, order meat, etc., on Thursday, and prepare _so far as I can_ on Friday, something after this fashion. "The range, being well heated, will cook both in the oven and on the top as fast as I can get things ready, and I can usually make two sorts of soup (two meals' supply in each), a milk soup for immediate use, and a vegetable, lentil, or haricot purée which will keep a day or two; then any remains of meat, game, or ham are minced and used to stuff tomatoes, onions, or potatoes, and put aside for breakfast or lunch dishes; fish is flaked and made into rissoles or a pie; beef steak or shin of beef, cutlets or rabbit or a pigeon can be prepared and cooked _en casserole_ ready for reheating when required; a cold dish for Sunday supper, which will come in also for breakfast or lunch, such as a small meat mould, or a beef galantine is prepared; next, a batch of scones, which keep well in a tin, and some rock cakes or a plain ginger loaf or sultana cake (for present use), and either a good chocolate or cherry cake or some little fancy 'petits fours,' which will be ready in case of emergency, and, if not required earlier, will be just as good towards the end of the week. "Sweets are the next thing, and usually four or five are arranged for. A good batch of pastry may be made, say a fruit tart, one or two fancy ones, such as Bakewell, treacle, or custard, some little jam puffs or lemon cheesecakes or 'maids-of-honour,' which keep splendidly; in this case a meat pie (steak and kidney, rabbit, or veal and ham) would be made instead of the cold meat dish. On alternate weeks, or if pastry is not wished for, the sweets take some such form as a Swiss roll, a batch of castle puddings, French pancakes (all of which will keep in the invaluable air-tight tin), with a rice meringue or rice, cream and fruit for Saturday, and a boiled suet pudding of some sort (ginger, treacle, or lemon), or a steamed sponge pudding for Friday's dinner. "Now work this out and see what a well-supplied larder you can rejoice over, and how little cooking you have to do the next three days. Then when Tuesday comes, utilise any remains of Sunday's joint, make another simple sweet or two, some cheese straws, or savoury eggs; develop more soup out of the stock which will by now have accumulated, and with a fresh batch of scones, and perhaps some stewed fruit, you may count on two more days clear for the many other tasks which fall to a good housekeeper's lot, and also for the most necessary free time for rest and recreation. Moreover, still another advantage of this 'look-ahead' plan is the ease of mind which the knowledge of your well-filled shelves will give you in the case of an unexpected visitor, or any other of those unlooked-for emergencies which will arise even in the best-regulated and most business-like households." Because everyone else does it scarcely seems a reason why you must do it. [Illustration: _PLATE XXXII_ AN ELECTRIC KITCHEN IN A CITY INSTITUTION. (Messrs. Crompton & Co.)] II The Late-Dinner Bogey. "For a long time it was the late-dinner bogey which caused us to keep more servants than we needed, and to live expensively and rather uncomfortably. "At last my husband's dislike of cooks became so passionate (and not without reason), that I determined to change my household arrangements, arguing that we could scarcely have worse food than we were having already. My husband, I must explain, is one of those men who cannot eat a heavy lunch and work after it, so he needs a hot and substantial dinner. How was this to be arranged with only one servant who went out twice a week, and a wife who only wished to cook in the morning? "Well, we managed thus. We bought a neat electrical heater for the dining-room, and put the hot dishes ready on it and all the cold things on the sideboard. Then when dinner was announced, the maid waited, and as she never had to leave the room, she managed well, even when we had friends to dinner. "After all, in restaurants food is not cooked just for you, it is prepared and finished or kept hot in hot cupboards or on hot plates. Managing as we now do our hot food is always hot, and the saving in wages, upkeep and food considerable. On Sunday night we have supper with hot soup, and on the other nights I choose such a menu as soup, stewed oxtail with carrot and turnip, potato cake, cold sweet or cheese, celery, etc. Coffee (if we need it) we make in an apparatus in the dining-room. "Of course, we had to have a labour-saving house, otherwise I could not have done the work with one servant and a nurse." The writer of this letter uses an electric heater, but in a "gas house" the "Utility" gas ring with hot plate would take its place. An illustrated booklet and price list of this excellent contrivance may be obtained from the Gas, Light and Coke Company, Horseferry Road, S.W. [Illustration: _PLATE XXXIII_ THE ELECTRIC IRON (NEVER BECOMES DIRTY) (The Brompton and Kensington Accessories)] [Illustration: _PLATE XXXIIIa_ AN ELECTRIC HEATER FOR THE SIDE TABLE (The Dowsing Radiant Heat Co.)] A Letter from a Professional Woman who does her own Housework. "In reply to your letter, I will describe my domestic methods. You can testify, can you not, that my little flat is well-kept and that the meals are nicely served? "As you know, the flat consists of sitting-room, bedroom, bathroom, tiny kitchen, linen cupboard and box cupboard, and a cupboard in which I keep all cleaning utensils. "In the bathroom is a fitted basin, so I have not even a washstand in my bedroom. The kitchen sink and bathroom are served by one gas geyser, and I have gas fires and a gas cooker. I should like a coal fire in the drawing-room, but it would make too much work. There is electric light. "There is an 'in' and 'out' indicator in the hall, and a little box under it for my cards and notes. "My floors throughout the flat are covered with a soft, streaked, green linoleum (not the plain, as that shows every mark). My dining-room table (just large enough for four) is round, and folds flat against the wall in the hall when not in use. I have rugs which I can go over with my Bissel sweeper, or with my Good Housewife suction cleaner. I use the latter for the chairs, sofa, mattresses, and curtains. The linoleum I dust and polish with long-handled mops, and as I object to crawling about on hands and knees, I have a special long-handled mop and pail with wringer attached for washing floors and a long-handled scrubber for the kitchen and hall. But when you do your own housework, and have no coal, it is wonderful how clean things keep. My knives are stainless steel and need no polishing. I have glass rather than silver, and fireproof china ware in which I cook and serve the food. I have no polished metal, and I use newspapers for most purposes for which other people use cloths. I never dry plates and cups, but just put them in a rack to dry. "My rooms are rather empty, but what is in them is really good. "My day is arranged thus. Foreign-fashion breakfast, put ready over night on a tray (covered), with coffee and milk ready mixed. This I heat. I light the geyser, and while the water heats have my breakfast in bed. In cold weather I can switch on my bedroom fire from my bed, and as my gas-ring has a long tube, heat my coffee without getting out of bed if I please. "After breakfast I get up and put on an overall instead of my dress. With no fires and no washstand work and my long-handled cleaners the work is quickly done. I prepare what I need for lunch and dinner; food is so simple a matter when you live alone: my lunch, for example, is generally milk pudding, cheese and fruit, and my dinner of two courses, meat or fish and sweet or cheese, and often I buy cooked food if I am very busy. "I work from eleven until three or four. Then I go out and generally have tea with friends or at my club. "I come in, dine, tidy up, put breakfast ready, and often work for an hour or two, or read, and go to bed. "I give up Friday to special turning out and cleaning, mending, etc. "My entertaining consists of tea or dinner (not more than four). Then I have a waitress who clears away and washes up. For such dinners I have soup, fish au gratin, stewed pigeons with savoury rice, or chicken en casserole, potato croquettes, cold sweet, cheese, coffee, dessert. The kind of dinner which can all be put ready for the waitress down to the last detail. "I should detest to exist in a squalid muddle, but really it is not necessary to do so. Living as I do I can save money. If I kept a servant I should spend all I earn and be no more comfortable." About Washing Up. "I wonder if ladies who do their own work realise that it is possible to wash up and still keep one's hands nice by using rubber gloves and different sized mops. When I began to do my own work for a family of husband and four children I had great trouble with my nails splitting. Now my hands are as nice as ever they were. I have three mops of different sizes, one with a brush on the back for hard rubbing. I wear a rubber glove on my left hand (they cost 1s. 3d. a pair, and I have had one pair for months) and use the water practically boiling, as one can tilt up plates, etc., out of the water with the mop, and plates slipped into a rack will then require no drying. My saucepan brush has a long handle and the wire bristles are put in on the slant. I can wash up after any meal without wetting one finger. I have an old skewer stuck in the woodwork beside the sink, and on to it I slip the glove to dry between washings up. I have found it a great saving of time and trouble, too, to have long-handled sweeping brushes, and I have ordered a long-handled hard scrubbing brush, mop, and wringer, so that I can do the scullery and kitchen, etc., without getting down on my knees or putting my hands in water." "The higher a woman's education, the better housewife she ought to be. When Molière was so hard on learned women, he was not making fun of erudition, but of the affectation of erudition, which relegated into a corner all homely virtues." "First Aid to the Servantless," By Mrs. J. G. FRASER. CHAPTER VIII WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _Counting the Cost--The Cost of Service as well as of Material--Coke Furnaces--Radiators--How to Light and Stoke a Coke Furnace--Rubbish Burning--Some Figures--Two Examples of Houses in which Coke Furnaces are used--A Maisonette in which a Gas Circulator is used--Taking Advice--Gas for Water Heating and for Lighting--Gas Fires--The Gas Cooker and how to use it--The Cost of Gas Cooking--Cooking Utensils--Cleaning--Rubbish Destructors--Slot Meters--Reading the Meter._ CHAPTER VIII COAL, COKE, AND GAS: HOW TO USE THEM TO THE BEST ADVANTAGE I Of all labour-saving forces at present available, I think we must regard electricity and gas as the most important. Often, however, it is not for us to choose which we will employ. We must needs use gas if electric current is not available, and we must count the cost of both before deciding whether or no we may employ either. Counting the Cost. Counting the cost is not so simple a matter as it seems, for it does not suffice to ascertain the price of gas per 1000 feet, and of electricity per unit, and of coal and coke per ton, and of wood per 100 bundles, because you have also to ascertain what you can save in labour and in other items before you can arrive at any just conclusion. Let us suppose that you decide to build a house and warm it by hot water, to light it and to cook by gas or electricity. In that case you could save the cost of grates, chimneys, the kitchen range, fenders, fireirons, coal boxes, chimney sweeping, a considerable amount of cleaning, and the labour of the people who would be needed to handle the coal and do the cleaning. So you must consider the matter carefully, not forgetting that it is further complicated by the fact that you may find it difficult to obtain servants, and that it might pay you to use gas or electricity even though coal was cheaper, because of the scarcity and high cost of labour. You have also to consider that the cost of coal, gas, and electricity depend to some extent on the people who use them. One cook, for example, will burn nearly double the coal burned by another and obtain no better result. It is the same with gas and electric current. [Illustration: _PLATE XXXIV_ ELECTRICAL KITCHEN OF A SMALL FLAT. ALL LIFTING AND STOOPING IS AVOIDED. (The British Electric Transformer Co.)] The Coke Furnace. Now, taking into account the fact that no water company has yet been sufficiently enterprising to provide a supply of hot water, I think the cheapest and most labour-saving method of warming houses and providing hot water is by means of a coke furnace or possibly two furnaces. These should heat all the radiators and supply all hot water. My personal experience of a coke furnace is that it needs but little attention, and that coke is light, clean, and easy to handle as compared with coal. These furnaces do, however, need some coal to light them. The procedure is as follows:-- [Illustration: _PLATE XXXV_ A DINING-ROOM HOT PLATE. (Messrs. Townshends, Ltd.)] [Illustration: _PLATE XXXVa_ THE "DREADNOUGHT" WASHING-UP MACHINE Which may be worked by hand or by electricity. It is made in various sizes and obviates the necessity of putting the hands into greasy water or of wiping the plates, cups, etc. Silver may be washed in addition to china in the machine] How to Light a Coke Furnace. First thing in the morning, rake out the furnace and keep the clinker (burnt coke). Put in paper, some sticks, and a shovelful of coal. Light. When burning up add some fresh coke. When well alight, and the water hot, add more coke mixed with clinkers. If the water is quite cold it takes some fifty minutes to get it really hot, though a warm bath would be ready in thirty minutes. If, however, the furnace is banked at night, the water would still be warm at 6.30 in the morning. In my own house, we need three hot baths before the 8.30 breakfast, and the furnace must be lighted by 6.30 to 6.40 to obtain them. If the cook comes down late she uses more coal to get the furnace burning quickly. After breakfast the cook feeds the furnace with a little more coke, the rubbish and some more coke on top. Rubbish should not be put in unless the fire is fairly hot. The furnace heats a large radiator, water for two bathrooms, two sinks, and three hand-basins. In winter, the furnace is banked up after lunch, and not made up again until before dinner, and the supply of hot water is constant, and there can be hot baths at night if needed; but if all the hot water is run off at night and the furnace is not made up again it naturally takes longer to heat the water in the morning. In summer the furnace is let out after the rubbish is burned; and with a small household the water for washing up is heated on the gas. One cook who came down late used far too much coal to light the furnace (which is bad for it, as it fouls the flue with soot), threw away all clinkers, and would not burn rubbish, and therefore consumed quite one-third more coke than the present cook, and obtained no better result. Still, all things considered, I know no better or more economical method of heating the rooms and providing hot water in a household of any size than the coke furnace. This I should not say were gas and electricity cheaper, because, of course, a water heater which is set going by turning a tap or switch is obviously more labour-saving than a furnace. In almost all households gas or electric heaters are practical, because if used carefully they are not too expensive, and in small houses or flats where the mistress is her own maid, or depends upon help from a visiting worker, I should certainly recommend the abolition of either coke or coal from the labour-saving point of view alone. [Illustration: _PLATE XXXVI_ AN ELECTRIC COOKER SUITABLE FOR ORDINARY USE Oven, grill and toaster plate, warmer and hot plate. (Messrs. Crompton & Co.)] Some Figures. I find that in the two years we have used the furnace we have consumed 120 sacks of coke, but part of it was mixed with the coal burned in the drawing-room. I must also admit that during part of this time the fuel was carelessly used. In addition to the coke burned in the furnace, coal was needed for lighting it. We used nine tons of coal in two years, for the drawing-room fire (a large old-fashioned, extravagant grate) and for the furnace. These were partly war years, and coal cost on an average 35s. a ton, and the coke 1s. 2d. a sack; roughly £11 10s. for furnace and drawing-room fire per year. In addition, the gas bills for two years have been, for cooker and five fires (one of the latter lighted in dining-room for about three hours a day, another burned a good deal in Christmas holidays, fire in servants' hall used in the afternoon in cold weather, and two bedroom fires only for an hour or two in the evening when _very_ cold, except during a three-weeks' illness, and one or two days when people had colds), about £40. Gas is at the war price (in London) 3s. per 1,000 feet, and (for "war reasons") inferior in quality to what it was before the war, and the figure includes meter and stove rent (two stoves, kitchen, and servants' hall). When considering these sums it must be remembered that this is a small London house, and that the furnace in the kitchen heats that and keeps the smoking-room above from ever being very cold. The large radiator in the hall, heated from the furnace, makes an enormous difference to the warmth of the house; also the drawing-room fire was not lighted in the morning except in really cold weather. To the coal, coke, and gas bills must be added 14s. worth of wood during the two years. Old boxes were chopped up, so that if all the wood had been bought it might have amounted to 18s. or £1, say £32 10 0 for a year's fuel. Had we used a coal range and coal fires and had no radiator, I calculate that the cost of coal would amount to at least £35, and that we should have used more wood, and certainly we could not have run the house without more help. =When counting the cost of heating, lighting, and cooking, allow for expert's figures. The average servant, and for that matter, the average mistress, is not an expert, and until she is, will not be able to obtain the best value for the money spent as does the expert.= In another household known to me, the furnace is larger and more coke is used, and it is made up at about seven o'clock, at midday, and again at night. This furnace heats water for two bathrooms, three sinks, four hand-basins, and radiators all over the house. The house is always beautifully warm, and only a small fire "for company" is needed in the drawing-room. In this house there is a coal range for cooking, but in hot weather an oil stove is used. The quantities of fuel used are for two years: 13 tons coal, 18 tons coke, 8 tons anthracite, 234 gallons of oil. In a maisonette of three floors, gas is used for cooking and for water heating and nursery ironing ring, and coal for dining-room fire, drawing-room in late afternoon and evening, and nursery when necessary. (Child goes to a kindergarten.) The cost for coal and gas for the year 1915 was £28 10s. In flats where the bathroom is near the furnace less fuel is needed. In all of the three cases mentioned the labour bill would have had to be increased had coal been in use everywhere. Furthermore, a gas expert tells me that with more careful use the bills could be reduced; but as one is seldom able to secure the services of experts, allowance must be made for careless usage of fuel when counting the cost. [Illustration: _PLATE XXXVII_ A GOOD TYPE OF ELECTRIC FIRE (Messrs. Crompton and Co.)] The Use of Gas. Let us deal now with the question of gas, and suppose that the hot water is provided by a gas circulator, that it is, for various reasons, not feasible to put in radiators, and that a gas cooker and gas fires are used. There are various kinds of circulators, rubbish destructors, cookers and fires, and so great has been the improvement in their mechanism and appearance that I really do not think any objection on the score of health or appearance can be made now to the use of gas. One disadvantage is, possibly, that some of the best and most modern fires and cookers cannot be hired. Still, one does not hire one's fireplaces and coal ranges, so why do we always expect to obtain gas fires and cookers on hire? Some fires I have lately seen were really attractive, and would not spoil the effect of any room. Readers of this book who wish to see what can be done for them by means of gas should visit the showrooms of the various gas companies, and especially those of Messrs. Davis, 60, Oxford Street, W. Good Advice. Before deciding on any special fires, stoves, etc., the customer should ask the gas company to inspect the premises and to give advice as to the best method of dealing with that particular house or flat, because the choice of apparatus must depend on the situation of the boiler, the length of pipes needed, the height of the house, the position of the bathroom, and the kind of grates available. In some houses it would be out of the question to heat water by gas, in others it would be possible and even economical. But I regret to have to say that the gas companies do not always seem to have employees capable of giving the best advice. In London, the Gas Light and Coke Company have a clever staff, amongst whom are several ladies known as the Women's Advisory Staff. These ladies are extremely helpful, and when they have talked the matter over with the prospective customer, will call in experts who deal with the questions of cost, of fitting, etc. Two heads are better than one, and therefore I always advise the would-be gas-user to pick the brains of one of these ladies (who are trained cooks as well as gas experts), as well as those of the male staff. When the cookers and fires have been installed a lady will then call, free of charge, and demonstrate the use of the various apparatus, and it can also be arranged that the fires, cooker, etc., are inspected and kept in order for a nominal sum per annum. Gas for Water Heating. Regarding the use of gas for water heating, it would be useless for me to go into details, for only an expert who has seen the house can know how best to deal with the matter, and whether to advise the use of geysers, califonts, hydrotherms, etc.; or whether gas circulators should be ruled out and a coke furnace substituted. Excluding the cost of installation, and under suitable circumstances, it is estimated that a large hot bath costs rather less than twopence, and one less full and not quite so hot, rather more than one penny. The cost must vary a little, as in summer time the temperature of the water before heating is higher than in winter, also the size of baths varies. When using gas for heating, the baths and fitted basins should not be unnecessarily large, and note that a square-bottomed bath will need more water to fill it than that which is curved. Do not forget that every pint of hot water costs something to make it hot. Many improvements have been made in geysers of late, and they are now as fool-proof as any apparatus can be. But when one has to deal with a girl who will turn on the gas in the oven and forget that she has not lighted it, shut the door, and then, when the house reeks of gas, arm herself with a lighted taper and start looking for the escape, it is difficult to estimate against what depth of human folly the gas apparatus must be made immune. Geysers are now contrived so that the one apparatus will serve several taps, and circulators are fitted with concentric burners, so that when the water is hot the ring is put out and only the small inner burner used. Thermostats are fixed to reduce automatically the consumption of gas directly the water reaches a certain temperature. A cut-out system is also applied to existing cylinders and tanks of unnecessarily large size. When using a gas circulator the gas should be turned out when hot water is not required--a detail which many people forget. For example, one servant heats the water for baths, washing up and cleaning, then the gas is put out after lunch, and is not lighted again until hot water is wanted at night. Another keeps the gas burning the whole day. Gas for Lighting. When electricity is available, I should not choose gas as an illuminant, but when it must be employed it is now so arranged and shaded that the effect is perfect and the blacking of walls and ceiling reduced to a minimum. It may surprise some of my readers to know that gas can now be fitted so that it is switched on and off from a wall switch in the same fashion as electricity. Incandescent burners make for economy, and now _bijou_ burners are to be had suitable for small rooms, offices, etc., which consume less than the large burners. Allowing for gas at 3s. per 1000 feet, one large incandescent burner costs one penny every eight hours, a medium burner one penny for every twelve hours, and a _bijou_ one penny for every eighteen hours. Gas Fires. When choosing a gas fire see that there is a duplex burner, so that two or three jets can be turned out, leaving the centre jets burning. When the room is warm the smaller fire will suffice to keep it so. The best modern fires are noiseless and ventilated beautifully, and, as I have already said, they are really pleasing in appearance. Nevertheless, I do not advise a gas fire, however good, as an economy in a room which is used for hours at a time. The cost of an average fire is said to be 1¼d. per hour, counting gas at 3s. per 1000 feet, and it does not pay to burn 1¼d. worth of gas per hour for fourteen or fifteen hours at a stretch. From the point of view of money-saving it would be cheaper to burn coal. On the other hand, supposing a gas fire is lighted in a sitting-room in the morning, it can be turned out if the family are out in the afternoon, and not relighted until shortly before they return, for the advantage of gas and electric fires is that they are red-hot practically at once, whereas a coal fire takes time to burn up and become hot, and each time it is lighted it eats wood as well as coal. Still, say what one will, a coal or wood fire is pleasanter to sit with, and for that reason, unless I were quite servantless, I would have one "live" fire in the house. Expert advice must be obtained when putting in gas fires in order to be sure that the kind most suitable is obtained, and the ventilation must be carefully attended to. People often say, "Oh, I couldn't sit in a room with a gas fire," having no experience of a well-made, well-ventilated, and properly fitted fire. There are old-fashioned, badly fitted gas fires which deserve every evil thing which can be said of them; but again there are many others: there is even a fire which can be set alight by turning a switch at your bedside, so that you do not set foot out of that warm refuge until the temperature of the room has become pleasant to your lightly clad form. Gas Cookers. When choosing a gas cooker there are many points to consider, and I own that to my mind the ideal cooker has not yet been put upon the market. It is, however, bound to come, and gas cookers, unlike ranges, are easily changed. The cooker should have a solid hot plate,[2] and not an open top, but if this make cannot be obtained, a sheet of iron covering two-thirds of the top of the cooker can be laid on it. One gas burner will heat this, and several pans will simmer on it at the cost of one burner. The ordinary cooker is generally fitted with one simmering burner and about three boiling burners, which is wrong, for to one dish which needs boiling for more than a few minutes, at all events, many need to simmer.[3] The great fault of English cooks is that they cook everything too fast, and the average gas stove does not discourage this naughty practice. Still, this difficulty can be overcome by using the makeshift hot-plate as already described. In addition to the boiling burners there should be a griller, which is used for browning and toasting, as well as grilling. The size of the cooker must depend upon the amount of cooking needed, but it is no economy to have a very small one, because when the oven is in use it should be employed for almost everything. The average cook bakes a milk pudding in the oven and cooks vegetables and hashed mutton and stewed fruit each on a boiling tap, and probably uses the griller as well, and wonders why the gas bills are so high. Which will you spend, brains or money? [Illustration: _PLATE XXXVIII_ AN ELECTRIC COOKER (The Jackson Electric Stove Co.)] II When planning out the bills of fare the cook must use more brains and less gas. For instance, let us say that she wants to serve hashed mutton (and Heaven help that it may not be that grey and slimy mass endured in too many an English home!), potatoes, Brussels-sprouts, milk pudding, and stewed fruit. Let her heat the oven and cook the mutton in a casserole. The potatoes and sprouts can cook in the oven just as well as over a boiling tap, the milk pudding is baked, and the fruit baked in a covered casserole. Managing thus, all the dishes are cooked in the oven. Then there will come a day when the oven need not be used at all, and the meal be cooked on the top of the stove. After all, cooking is carried out by heat, and it matters little in most cases if the heat surrounds the pan as in the oven, or is kept directly under it as by a tap. Every oven should be supplied with a solid browning shelf, not a thing with holes in it. This can be placed where needed, and by its use the part of the oven above it can be kept 100 degrees cooler than that which is below. [Illustration: _PLATE XXXIX_ AN ELECTRIC COOKER (OVENS, HOT-PLATE, GRILL, PLATE HEATER) FOR A LARGE HOUSEHOLD (Messrs. Crompton & Co.)] The Cost of Cooking by Gas. A moderate-sized oven, such as would be needed in a household of not over eight persons, burns about 30 feet of gas per hour when full on. Of that, 10 feet will be required to heat the oven, allowing twenty minutes for that operation. Then the gas should be turned down so that it burns at the rate of 15 feet per hour. Ten minutes later it is turned down again and consumes 10 feet. Thus if you use the oven for one and a half hours it should consume 22½ feet of gas. In the oven you should find two open grid shelves, a solid shelf, and a drip tin. The drip tin must be kept at the bottom of the stove below the gas flames. The dripping falls into this and does not become brown as it would do if the tin was placed over the flames. The drip tin must be kept in its place, as otherwise too much air would enter from beneath the oven and stop the cooking. If, instead of hanging the meat from a hook in the oven, it is baked on a tin, use a double baking tin. When roasting or baking meat, use the upper grid shelf for pastry, and place milk pudding or some other food needing slow cooking above the solid shelf, and then make the very best use of your oven while it is hot. See "Cooking Mornings," p. 127. The temperature of the oven to begin with, for most cakes, should be 280 degrees, for meat 300 degrees, for pastry and bread 340 degrees. An oven thermometer can be procured, and is a great help to inexperienced cooks. Quartern loaves take some three-quarters of an hour to bake, and use about 25 feet of gas. Large boiling burners, full on, eat about 24 feet of gas per hour. In using boiling burners there is often great waste, as people will turn them full on and have the flames flaring up the sides of the pan, which is a waste of heat and causes a smell of gas. The flame should be kept right underneath the pan or kettle. The simmering taps consume about 8 feet of gas per hour, and a clever person will, by using a three or four-tier pan, cook several dishes at the cost of about 16 feet of gas per hour, allowing for heating over a boiling tap at first and then simmering for the remainder of the time. The griller uses as much gas as the oven per hour; but then, of course, grilling is a quick operation. When using the grill, make it red-hot and see that the grill pan is under, and getting hot at the same time. The grill is used for toasting, and if you turn over the toasted side of bread on to a cold surface, it makes it tough. When the grill is hot, turn the gas down and watch the toast very carefully, as it cooks very quickly. Always keep a large pan or kettle of water over the griller, as it helps to throw down the heat. Do not boil the kettle on a boiling tap and use the griller for toast, but cook over the griller as well as under it; and this applies when grilling chops, steak, bacon, sausages, etc., for the saucepans can heat over the griller as well as over a tap. On a modern stove, the grill is arranged so that half of it may be lighted at a time for grilling small things. When grilling meat or fish, cook with full heat for two minutes in order to seal the pores and conserve the good of the food, then reduce the heat, turn, increase the heat, and decrease again. Thin steak needs about 12 minutes' cooking; thicker, 12 to 20 minutes; chops, 10 to 12 minutes; cutlets, 6 minutes; and bacon 1 or 2 minutes. Pancakes can be cooked by means of the griller first over the grill and then by placing the pan under it, and omelettes can be made in the same way without turning them. If the oven is not in use, milk puddings, macaroni cheese, etc., may be cooked on a boiling tap and browned under the griller. [Illustration: _PLATE XL_ AN ELECTRIC KITCHEN IN A PRIVATE HOUSE Above each switch is a red lamp, which reminds the cook that the current is on. (The British Electric Transformer Co.)] Utensils for Gas Cookers. It is most important when cooking by gas to choose the right kind of utensils. They should be thin and wide, rather than deep. A deep kettle takes longer to boil and therefore costs more to boil than a shallow one. Block tin, enamel ware and earthenware casseroles and fireproof china should be used; the two latter whenever possible, because by cooking and serving in one dish you save labour in washing up and generally have the food served hotter. Also food cooked in earthenware tastes better than that cooked in metal pans. Both cooker and utensils must be kept clean, for dirt, especially soot, is a non-conductor of heat. They must also be dry. I have seen cooks rinse out a pan and put it on the gas wet, forgetting that heat is then wasted in drying the moisture on the outside of the pan. In the same way they will boil one quart of water when they only need a pint, and waste gas in that way. [Illustration: _PLATE XLI_ THE "BABY FIRE" IN AN ALTERED POSITION IS NOW USED TO BOIL A KETTLE AND HEAT AN IRON. (The British Electric Transformer Co.)] [Illustration: _PLATE XLIa_ THE "BABY FIRE" A delightful invention for heating small rooms (The British Electric Transformer Co.)] To Clean a Gas Stove. A gas cooker is easily cleaned, and should be well washed with hot water and a little soda, loose parts and oven too. Grease should be rubbed off with newspaper as quickly as possible. The black part of the stove is cleaned with enameline and the bright steel with very fine emery-paper and oil, and then polished with a soft rag, or if plated with a leather only. The best kind of stove is mounted as high as possible so that it may be cleaned underneath. Also it should be set high to avoid fatigue in bending and lifting when using the oven, but not so high that the cook cannot use the hot plate comfortably. Be sure that no taps are clogged with grease, and remember that when a gas stove smells it is because it is dirty or because the gas is turned on too full and is not being properly consumed, or gas is escaping. Well-managed gas cookers do not smell. Now and then something may go wrong outside the cook's control, and then the Gas Company must send some one to put it right. But when cookers are intelligently used they seldom need attention, and if it should become necessary to change them, they are moved without much trouble or any structural work or dirt-making. The Destruction of Rubbish. In a household where coal and coke are not used, and in places where the unsanitary habit of collecting refuse but once a week prevails, the careful housewife will ask, what am I to do with the rubbish? I could burn some of it in a coal range, and most of it in a coke furnace, but if I employ gas only, what is to become of it? The only thing then is to add a gas refuse destructor to your apparatus. In one household known to me (a London flat) there is a gas cooker, water circulator, stove for warming the kitchen when the cooker is not in use, and the neatest little rubbish destructor--all fitted into a surprisingly small space. Warming the Kitchen. The mere word "kitchen" suggests warmth, but the mistress who uses gas must not forget that when the cooker is not in use (which may often be from 1.30 to 6 or 6.30 in the evening, except for the boiling of a kettle), and if the circulator is also turned out, the kitchen would probably be too cold for the maids to sit in. When there is a servants' hall this does not matter; but if the kitchen is also the sitting-room, a small gas fire should be supplied. Slot Meters. In order to cater for people of small income whom it suits to pay for the gas they consume in small sums, and also in some cases to check the consumption of gas, slot meters have been introduced. No charge is made for the meter, for the piping of the house or for the stove, but in order to cover this more is charged for the gas. It may still be sold at a nominal 3s. per 1000 feet (the price of gas varies in various localities), but the person using a penny-slot meter obtains less gas for a penny than he would do did he not require a meter. The same applies to the "shilling-in-the-slot" meter. Small users, however, often find it convenient to use slot meters, which entails no first cost for installation and no quarterly rentals, and certainly when the housekeeping allowance is small it is better to pay so much a day or a week instead of having to face a quarterly bill; also the constant production of pennies or shillings does bring home to the person using the gas that it is not just gas but hard cash which is being used. In some residential hotels and chambers each room is fitted with a slot fire and the bathrooms with slot geysers, so that the guest knows the exact cost of fire and bath, and pays it there and then. Finally, all gas users should learn to read the meter, a simple task which the lady demonstrator will teach or which can be learned from a card of instructions. Then the meter should be watched. If an increased expenditure of gas is noticed the matter should be inquired into, as there may be an escape, or some one may be forgetting to turn out the fire or lights when they are not needed. But it is so expensive to fit up a "Labour-Saving House," you object. That depends on many circumstances, the length of your lease, for example. Allow for the interest on the capital you spend, and possibly a sinking fund to repay it, and then count what you save in cleaning, in wages, in fuel, etc. Often you will find that you get back the money you have spent in a few years. FOOTNOTES: [2] See note on p. 155. [3] When discussing this matter with a great gas expert I find that his opinion is contrary to mine. "I strongly disagree. The system is wasteful and unsatisfactory," were his words. With regard to simmering taps, he also holds a contrary opinion. "I again disagree. You can easily turn down a boiling burner to simmering point, but you can't turn up a simmering burner to boiling point," he objected. True, but to me that is the advantage of the simmering burner, for it seems to me that nothing short of a burner which refuses to give out more than a certain degree of heat will deter the English cook from cooking too quickly and by too fierce a heat. --D. C. P. CHAPTER IX WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS ABOUT _Electricity as the Poor Man's Light--Basement Rate and Checking of Waste--When Putting in Electric Light--To Avoid Waste of Current--Makes of Lamps--Electric Fires--The Electric House--In the Kitchen--The Cost of Current--Labour-Saving and Comfort-Giving Appliances._ CHAPTER IX THE ELECTRIC HOUSE. HEATING, COOKING, CLEANING, AND LIGHTING BY ELECTRICITY "The Poor Man's Light." Some five-and-twenty years ago, when sixpence a unit was considered a very low charge for electricity, Colonel Crompton, R.E., C.B., claimed that before many years electricity would be "the poor man's light"; and if the various supply companies had been developed on the broad lines he advocated, there is no doubt that his prophecy would by now have come true in every town of medium size and in many villages in the area of supply, and we now might have been using electric current to light and warm our houses, to cook by, and to work various labour-saving machines. As it is, there are very few places where this term can be applied. Still, in nearly every town the charge for current has been considerably reduced, and with the great strides which have been made in the efficiency of various lamps, it can with certainty be said that electricity is the light for those of small means. As the charge for electricity is reduced, so will it be used on a larger scale for heating and cooking; but at present the percentage of people using it for cooking is so small when compared with those using it for lighting that I propose to deal first with this latter application of it. When considering the question of illumination of a house, oil, gas, and electricity are the three possible alternatives; and when analysed further, bearing in mind always the question of cost of labour and the difficulty of obtaining it, and the cost of cleaning and decorating, it will be found that the most suitable and economical is electricity. Basement Rate and Checking of Waste. In many districts special rates are offered where heating or cooking apparatus, or motors for pumping, etc., are used during the daytime, also for basement lights. So when arranging for a supply enquiry should be made as to terms. In the case of basement lights in small houses the saving is nearly all swallowed up in the extra meter rent, but in houses having large basements where it is necessary to use the lights for many hours a day the advisability of going on the special rate is a point well worth inquiring into closely. In spite of the extra hours necessarily burnt by basement lights, there is no doubt that great waste often occurs in the domestic offices--lights are switched on at dusk in passages, kitchen, pantry, and servants' hall, and even when all the servants are having supper in one room every light will be found alight in all the others. It is difficult to guard against this, but if a small notice is fixed to the wall above the switches asking that the light shall be turned off when not in use, it sometimes has the desired effect. These notices can be bought ready printed. Another source of waste which was never realised until the special constable came into being is in the servants' bedrooms. I am told by a member of that body that one of the things which has struck him more than anything since he took up his lonely patrol is the number of lights which are kept burning all night in the top rooms. This can be obviated by a master switch controlling the top floor, which can be in charge of one of the head servants. It is not advisable to have this in one of the lower bedrooms, as is sometimes done, as it necessitates the mistress waking up early in winter when lights are needed before breakfast, and, further, might lead to confusion in the case of a fire or illness in the night. It is impossible to lay down any definite rules for the lighting of the various rooms, as tastes differ so much as to the amount of light required; but whatever the individual taste may be, the naked lights should be so placed that they cannot be seen. This can be accomplished by well-shaded wall or portable lamps or indirect lighting. This latter form has much to commend it, as it is economical and gives an even distribution of light all over the room. When Putting in Electric Light. It is as well to err on the side of extravagance in the number of wall plugs. When the floor-boards are up it is not a very costly matter to have them put in, and then when the furniture of a room is altered from the position originally assigned to it, as is so often done with a new house, it will not be found that the writing-table or sofa is on the opposite side of the room to the plug to which the lamp required to light it is attached. The placing of the lights and the careful use of them would do much to lessen the bill for current--a fact proved to me when we let our house one winter to a family of the same size, who used the same number of rooms as we had used. The bill for light was sent in to us, and thus we discovered that it was just double what ours had been for the same quarter the year before. I put this down to the fact that basement and passage lights must have been burned when not needed, and that instead of using one or two table lamps when reading and writing in the evening all the wall lights were lighted. To Avoid Waste of Current. The staircase lights should be on two-way switches, so that they can be controlled from each floor--that is to say, from the hall you can switch on the hall and first-floor lights. From the first floor you can switch off the hall and light the second floor, and so on up the house, the reverse process taking place in descending. If the lights are installed in this way it is not necessary to keep all the staircase lights burning, as is done in so many houses; the extra cost of installing is trifling. In bedrooms where there are two or three lights in addition to a table-lamp at the side of the bed it is advisable and convenient to have at least one of the lights in a two-way switch. As regards the candle-power of the various lamps, so much depends on the size and decoration of the room and the individual tastes of the occupiers as regards the standard of illumination that it is impossible to give any useful guide on this subject. Naturally the lowest available candle-power lamps will be fitted in passages, bathrooms, bedroom table-lamps, etc., but the smallest wire-drawn filament lamps will in many cases be found to be more than is necessary. Owing to the construction of these lamps, they have so far not been made lower than 16 candle-power for 200 volts, which is a common pressure in towns, but to compensate for this it must be borne in mind that a 25 c.p. metal filament lamp consumes about the same current as an 8 c.p. carbon filament lamp, and it is undoubtedly only a question of time before lamps of smaller candle-power and taking less current are put on the market. [Illustration: _PLATE XLII_ A BREAKFAST COOKER FOR TOASTING, GRILLING AND BOILING (The British Electric Transformer Co.)] [Illustration: _PLATE XLIIa_ A TOASTER FOR THE BREAKFAST TABLE You do not need to ring for more toast but make it yourself and eat it while hot and crisp. (The British Electric Transformer Co.)] [Illustration: _PLATE XLIIb_ A PRETTY LITTLE ELECTRIC HOT PLATE FOR TABLE USE (The British Electric Transformer Co.)] Makes of Lamp. The invention and development of the drawn-wire lamp, made by various firms and sold under trade names such as "Osram," "Mazda," and "Z," have made a great saving in the annual bill for electric light, and at the same time have raised the standard of illumination. With the carbon filament, a 32 c.p. lamp would burn for seven and a half hours with the expenditure of one unit of electricity. Now the same light can be obtained for twenty-five hours at the same cost with the metal filament lamp. Against this saving must be set the increased cost of the lamps and the fact that higher candle-power lamps are being used, so the saving is not as large as the above figures would indicate. This type of lamp will undoubtedly be further developed, and the time is not far distant when the present consumption will be considerably reduced, so that a combination of lower charges and improved lamps will bring the electric light within the reach of even "the poor man." Scarcity of labour and the difficult state of the domestic labour market have made many people look round for labour- and dirt-saving methods of warming and of cooking; and certainly if not as attractive as a coal fire, an electric fire is both convenient and dirt and labour saving; it is likewise a boon in bedrooms and other rooms which need to be heated only for an hour or two at a time. [Illustration: _PLATE XLIII_ AN ELECTRIC COOKER OF CONVENIENT MAKE SUITABLE FOR FAMILY USE (Messrs. Townshends, Ltd.)] Electric Fires. Various makes of fires are illustrated in this book. A great advantage of the electric fire is that it is red-hot in a few seconds and may be placed where it is most required. The Electric House. Now let us see how things are done in a house which is worked by electricity throughout. A maid is awakened by an electric alarum (she cannot say that her clock was wrong, because all the clocks are controlled by a master pendulum). She goes downstairs, touches a switch, and sets the hot-water apparatus going. To warm or light a room, to set the cooker to work, needs but a touch. An electric service lift makes the laying and clearing and serving of meals a quick and easy matter. There are no heavy trays and cans and coal boxes to haul about the house upstairs and down. The cleaning of the rooms is eased by the use of electric vacuum cleaners, and when there is no dust and smoke from coal fires the house does not become nearly so dirty. The breakfast dishes are kept hot on a heater. If more boiling water or more toast is needed, it can be obtained in a moment or two without leaving the dining-room. If you wish to speak to a servant, you do not ring and wait for her to run up or down stairs, you telephone your instructions. In the Kitchen. Let us descend to the kitchen. In the average kitchen the coal range is placed where it is difficult to see the contents of the pots and pans, and each time the cook wishes to put anything into the oven or take it out she must stoop. To stoop and then lift a weight from oven to table adds considerably to the labour of the day. In the intervals of cooking the fire must be made up, and not only must all the pots and pans be cleaned inside, but the outside becomes black and sooty, and must be scrubbed. Dampers must be pulled in and out, and the cooking of the household and supply of hot water attended to. In an electrically fitted kitchen what do we see? A clean, bright-looking oven and a hot plate for boiling and simmering, and probably a grill, completed by a plate heater, all standing on a table placed in a good light and conveniently near the sink. The cook may sit at ease peeling apples and put out a hand to alter the heat of the oven or hot plate, or to move a saucepan. If she is a forgetful person, a red lamp reminds her of the fact that she has not switched off the current from any portion of the cooking apparatus no longer needed. This is not a fairy story. It is a statement of plain fact, and one into which the public must enquire if it will solve the labour question. [Illustration: _PLATE XLIV_ ELECTRIC OVEN AND HOT PLATE (The Dowsing Radiant Heat Co.)] Simplicity. That electrical household labour-saving appliances are no longer in the experimental stages, and that now they can be depended upon to work satisfactorily, is shown by the number of schools and restaurants and canteens in which electricity is used. Yet all the cook has to do is to turn the switches and so obtain different degrees of heat. If she needs a fierce heat, she can secure it in a moment, while if she requires a gentle heat, she can secure that, in either case by turning a switch. If a fuse should go, it is an easy matter to replace it, and the watchful red lamp makes it impossible to leave the current on unawares. No one who has seen an electrically fitted kitchen can doubt that it is labour and dirt saving. In a school where three cooks were kept, two now do the work with ease, and where a cook and kitchen-maid were needed, now that all coal carrying, range cleaning, stooping, and so much dirt have been eliminated, the cook does the work cheerfully and single-handed, except for the help of a woman once a week to clean areas, kitchen stairs, and passage, and to scrub. The cost of a woman one day a week at 2s. 6d. plus 1s. 6d. worth of food amounts to 4s. a week; while a kitchen-maid at as low a wage as £16, with washing, insurance, and food, would not cost less than 18s. a week. But there is not only the economy of labour and dirt to consider. There is the saving in the food itself. [Illustration: _PLATE XLV_ AN ELECTRIC FIREPLACE SUITABLE FOR OPEN HEARTHS (Messrs. Crompton & Co.)] [Illustration: _PLATE XLVa_ AN ELECTRIC FIRE One great advantage about electric fires is that there is no waiting for them "to burn up." They become red hot in a few seconds. (Messrs. Belling & Co.)] The Saving of Meat. I will confine myself to the question of meat. When roasting with coal the loss of weight on a joint is anything between 25 per cent. and 35 per cent. A really bad cook who gallops the meat and does not baste it can effect a shrinkage of even 50 per cent.; but, fortunately, in this land of bad cooks there are few who sin so deeply as this. Twenty-five per cent., however, is quite a common loss, and even good and careful cooks will account for a 20 per cent. loss. In proof of this weigh the meat before and after cooking. It is the boast of those who cook by electricity that they reduce this loss to 8 per cent. Even when cooking electrically it would be easy to cause a shrinkage of 10 to 15 per cent.; while, on the other hand, very clever cooks will bring down the shrinkage to 5 per cent. Allowing, then, to be fair, a loss of 25 per cent. when cooking by coal (that is a quarter) and a loss of 10 per cent, when cooking by electricity, you have a saving of 15 per cent. on your meat bill. Put this at £50 a year, and you have saved £7 10s. on that item alone. In one case when cooking on a large scale it was found that plates of meat which had cost 5d. could be provided for 4d., a point which the authorities responsible for the running of canteens for troops and munition workers might do well to note. The Cost of Current. We must now consider the question of cost of current, and here we are in many cases up against a difficulty, for unless current can be obtained at a reasonable price the use of electricity in the household is not a paying proposition. Speaking without inside knowledge of the workings of the power companies, it would appear that they are greatly to blame that electricity is not in more general use. Apparently few of them make any effort to induce their customers to use current for aught but lighting purposes. The offer of a flat rate of 1d. per unit for all domestic purposes, added to an energetic pushing of electrical apparatus and demonstration of its value, would result in an enormous betterment in the conditions of domestic labour and in the purifying of the air of towns. There are, of course, electric supply companies who are more enterprising--Marylebone, West Ham, and Poplar, for instance, and some provincial town companies. The engineers of these supply companies have formed what is known as the "Point Five" Club, their object being to supply current for heating and cooking at ½d. per unit. Still, when Marylebone represents the only district in highly rented residential parts of London willing to do this, I think I am not unjust when I say that the electrical companies are sadly behind the times in their methods. It is said that the current used for cooking (allowing for late dinner) should be 1 unit per day per person, and that the amount should diminish with the number of persons cooked for, until, when cooking for 100 persons, the saving would be as much as 50 per cent. This, naturally, depends to some extent upon the cook, who can, if she will, waste current and spoil food by cooking it at too high a temperature; for, as all cooks know, after the first ten minutes' cooking in a hot oven the meat should be cooked quite gently. Those of my readers who are interested in the question of electrically fitted houses can see the various utensils, stoves, etc., at the showrooms of the makers; they can attend demonstrations at Tricity House, 48, Oxford Street (the Electrical Restaurant); and also add to their knowledge of the subject by the perusal of "Electric Cooking, Heating, and Cleaning," an excellent book, published by Constable and Co., price 3s. 6d. net. At Tricity House, a most popular restaurant near the Tottenham Court Road end of Oxford Street, all the cooking is done by electricity, and a clever lady demonstrator will show the enquirer exactly how the various apparatus is used. Labour-Saving and Comfort-Giving Appliances. But even when all the cooking is not done by electricity, the would-be labour-saver may avail himself of a large number of labour-saving inventions and comfort-giving inventions in the shape of chafing dishes, kettles, toasters, and dish-heaters. Examples of these are to be found in all electrical showrooms, and these, even when cheap current is not available, may prove a great convenience and indirectly a saving of money. In one house known to me, where one servant only has been employed since the war, the owner switches on an electric fire, and grills the bacon, and makes toast and coffee in the dining-room, the table being laid and the materials left ready over night, thus saving any breakfast cooking and table-laying at the busiest time in the morning. The table is covered with a wrapper, and the room is swept and dusted later in the day. Another useful small appliance is the electric fan. In the sick-room it is invaluable, also for clearing a room of the smell of smoke, and being portable it can be carried from room to room and attached to an ordinary wall socket. For large houses there is a great demand for small domestic motors, and great saving of labour can be effected by using them for driving boot-cleaning machines, washing-up machines, and polishing hobs for brass and silver cleaning. Before writing these articles I visited kitchens where coal, gas, or electricity were in use, and I have also cooked on coal ranges and gas and electric cookers. Excellent results may be obtained by all three, but there is no possible doubt that as regards labour and dirt-saving, gas or electricity is preferable to coal. At the same time, as one cannot in many cases use either, it is only fair to say that some of the modern coal ranges do their work admirably, at the least possible consumption of fuel. As, however, a coal range cannot be regarded as a labour-saving apparatus, I do not give any consideration to them in these pages, which are, as I have already said, devoted, not to ideal homes and dream homes, but to those where the scarcity of labour makes it necessary to save work, and ultimately cost, as much as possible. A FINAL WORD Just as the book was going to press I received this letter-- "I must tell you how thankful I have been for your labour-saving ideas. My cook left to make munitions; my housemaid's fancy led her to become the driver of a tradesman's cart; the parlourmaid remained, and still remains, bless her! I have had to rely on what temporary help I could obtain, for cooks so far turn a deaf ear to my entreaties. Had it not been for our gas fires, circulator, and cooker, our washing-rooms and our lift, Heaven knows what would have become of us. "As it is we really have managed extraordinarily well. Most people's houses are too full of things which no one wants. Most people eat too much and serve the food with unnecessary elaboration, and vast numbers of women spend their lives fussing over trifles and making unnecessary work for vast numbers of other women. "Will it be different after the war? "Let us hope so." The greatest Labour-Saving apparatus we possess is the Brain; it has not been worn out by too much use. This statement appears on the first page of this book, and again on the last. It bears repetition. [Illustration: _PLATE XLVI_ AN ELECTRIC RADIATOR (The Dowsing R. H. Co.)] INDEX Advantages, some financial, 63 Advice, useful, 149 Appliances, household, 49 labour-saving, 185-186 simplicity of labour-saving, 180 Architects, reasons for women, 31 Arrangements, advantages of labour-saving, 70 Basement, general description of, 65 house, disadvantages of, 54-55 Bath, 45 Bedroom, 45 Bills, gas, coke, coal, 146 Coke, economy of, 144 Colleges, need of training, 20 Companies, Electrical Supply, 183 Cook, wages of, 120 Cookers, gas, 83 good idea for gas, 154 Cooker, size of, 155 Cooking, advantages of advanced, 127 economy of electrical, 182 Cost, counting the, 141, 145 Current, electric, cost of, 182 how to avoid waste of, 175 Decoration, 44 Dinner bogey, how to abolish the, 133 Domestic premises, 41, 43 Domestic problem, solving of, 25 Domestic service, advantages and disadvantages of, 19 Domestic training, advantages of, 13-14 for all girls, 11 national importance of, 12 Dressing-room, clever idea for, 45 Electric house, description of, 178 Electric light, fitting and arranging of, 174 Electricity, economy of, 171 cooking by, 134 Employer, ignorance of, 8 Entertaining, 137 Equipment, personal, 138 Family arrangements, 93 Fare, planning of bills of, 159 Fires, advantage of electric, 153 various makes of electric, 178 Flat, description of, 77-78 general arrangement of, 100 labour-saving, 99 Fuel, economy of, 147 Furnace, feeding of, 94 lighting of, 143 Furniture, 44 Gas, cost of cooking by, 160 use of, 148 Geysers, 151 Governesses, secretaries, companions, 18 Grill, management of, 162 Heating, water, 150 Home, the ideal, 37 House, labour-saving, 66 condition of the modern, 53 country, 95-97 furnishing of, 69 heating and lighting of, 46 how to reduce work of, 36 inconvenience of the modern, 29 suggestions for rebuilding, 30 Houses, labour-saving method of heating, 142 Kitchen, electrically fitted, 179 warming of, 165 Labour-making house, condition of, 76 conversion of, 57 description of, 56 some experiences of, 75 work of, 73-74 Labour-saving house, arrangement of, 89-91 convenience of, 110 description of, 88 domestic arrangements of, 79-80 economy of, 115 London, 87 menu of, 113 provincial, 108 reasons for, 3-4 suggestion for, 64 the ideal, 35 Labour-saving ideas, test of, 107 Lamp, makes of, 176-177 Lights, rate of basement, 172 checking of waste of, 173 Lighting, various means of, 152 Look-ahead plan, advantage of, 130 Meals, arrangement of, 114 Meat, saving of, 181 Menu, 121-124 Meters, slot, 166-169 Mistresses, new race wanted, 10 Nurse and Nursery, 62 Ordering, method of, 125 Oven, temperature of, 161 Restaurant, the electrical, 184 Rooms, arrangement of, 109 Rubbish, destruction of, 165 Servants, 9 shortage of, 7 their dislikes, 21-22 Service, cost of, 141 Service room, 42 Shopping, 126 Soups, 128 Stove, cleaning of, 164 Suburban house, description of, 101 furniture and fittings of, 102-103 Sweets, 129 Table, useful advice for, 49 Time, division of, 114 saving of, 119 Utensils, cleaning, 135 gas-cooking, 163 Waste, checking of, 173 Water service, 32 Water system, question of hot, 58 Work, dislike of menial, 17 organization of, 92-93 Worker, how to obtain best results, 26 _THE QUESTION OF THE MOMENT_ WAR RATION COOKERY (THE EAT-LESS-MEAT BOOK) BY MRS. C. S. PEEL The Director of Women's Service, Ministry of Food. (Second Edition.) Crown 8vo. =2/6= net. "Mrs. Peel is universally recognized as the soundest and most sensible authority upon middle-class housekeeping; she knows her subject inside out, she has no fads, and she writes with great vivacity and verve. She is just the person whose advice the small householder needs at the present time, and this practical and business-like handbook is nothing less than a public service of the highest quality. It ought to be on every kitchen shelf throughout the length and breadth of the country.... Indeed, the whole volume is invaluable, and we commend it without reserve to every class of the loyal-hearted public."--_Daily Telegraph._ "Mrs. Peel's book is eminently practical. It puts in an intelligible way the problem of war-ration housekeeping."--_Land and Water._ "The book gives excellent hints as to the cooking of our war-time rations. In addition to a quantity of recipes, Mrs. Peel has advice to give on food values."--_Spectator._ JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD, W. 1. _NOVELS BY MRS. C. S. PEEL_ THE HAT SHOP Crown 8vo. =6/-= and =1/3= net. "Mrs. Peel is to be sincerely congratulated on her vivid picture of one side of the world of fashion and of the cost to those who serve it."--_Pall Mall Gazette._ "The book is interesting and written with first-hand knowledge."--_Morning Post._ "The bright and the shady side of feminine life in London are both exhibited in 'The Hat Shop.' Mrs. Peel's pages are closely observed and convincingly drawn."--_Sunday Times._ Mrs. BARNET--Robes Crown 8vo. =6/-= "With insight and tenderness and courage, Mrs. Peel has written one of the most charming and at the same time most living of stories. It is stamped with truth and is very beautifully told."--_Outlook._ "Mrs. Peel has handled a prolific theme in a masterly manner."--_Globe._ A Mrs. JONES Crown 8vo. =6/-= "This intensely clever and human-hearted story.... Fresh, genuine, so impeccably true to nature. A very fine novel indeed."--_Mr. Arthur Waugh in the 'Outlook.'_ "The description of a fashion paper's office and its Jewish administration is vivid, real and humorous. The book goes merrily forward, the interest of the reader sustained to the finish."--_Daily Telegraph._ JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD, W. 1. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes Original inconsistencies in chapter titles between the Table of Contents and the first pages of each chapter have been retained. Likewise, the titles on the List of Illustrations and the illustrations themselves appear here just as they did in the original text, including Plate 44's labeling of "Gas Oven" in the LOI and as "Electric Oven" in its caption. Minor punctuation errors fixed on pages 45 and 162. Punctuation on Plates 4, 5, 6, 16, 20, 22, 34, 39, 40, 41, 42, 42a, 44 was made consistent with the other Plates. Variable use of the words fire-place, fireplace, Croutons, and Croûtons were retained. Other variations in hyphenated words were retained only when they seemed to be used for emphasis or when part of a quoted letter. The following changes were made for consistency or due to typographical error: Page 31, "house-work" changed to "housework." (...neither do they have to do housework...) Page 79, "talboys" changed to "tallboys." (...tallboys in a shocking state of ill-usage.) Page 121, "fourquarter" changed to "forequarter." (...a forequarter of lamb has been in the house...) Page 134, "House-Work" changed to "Housework." (A Letter from a Professional Woman who does her own Housework.) Plate 15, "WASH-STAND" changed to "WASHSTAND." (GAS-HEATED TOWEL RAIL AND FIXED WASHSTAND) Plate 32, "ELECTRC" changed to "ELECTRIC." (AN ELECTRIC KITCHEN IN A CITY INSTITUTION.) 
8996	----	Practical Suggestions for Mother and Housewife By MARION MILLS MILLER, Litt D. Edited by THEODORE WATERS Contents CHAPTER I THE SINGLE WOMAN Her Freedom. Culture a desideratum in her choice of work. Daughters as assistants of their fathers. In law. In medicine. As scientific farmers. Preparation for speaking or writing. Steps in the career of a journalist. The editor. The Advertising writer. The illustrator. Designing book covers. Patterns. CHAPTER II THE SINGLE WOMAN Teaching. Teaching Women in Society. Parliamentary law. Games. Book-reviewing. Manuscript-reading for publishers. Library work. Teaching music and painting. Home study of professional housework. The unmarried daughter at home. The woman in business. Her relation to her employer. Securing an increase of salary. The woman of independent means. Her civic and social duties. CHAPTER III THE WIFE Nature's intention in marriage. The woman's crime in marrying for support. Her blunder in marrying an inefficient man for love. The proper union. Mutual aid of husband and wife. Manipulating a husband. By deceit. By tact. Confidence between man and wife. CHAPTER IV THE HOUSE Element in choice of a home. The city apartment. Furniture for a temporary home. Couches. Rugs. Book-cases. The suburban and country house. Economic considerations. Buying an old house. Building a new one. Supervising the building. The woman's wishes. CHAPTER V THE HOUSE Essential parts of a house. Double use of rooms. Utility of piazzas. Landscape gardening. Water supply. Water power. Illumination. Dangers from gas. How to read a gas-meter. How to test kerosene. Care of lamps. Use of candles. Making the best of the old house. CHAPTER VI FURNITURE AND DECORATION The qualities to be sought in furniture. Home-made furniture. Semi-made furniture. Good furniture as an investment. Furnishing and decorating the hall. The staircase. The parlor. Rugs and carpets. Oriental rugs. Floors. Treatment of hardwood. Of other wood. How to stain a floor covering. CHAPTER VII FURNITURE AND DECORATION The carpet square. Furniture for the parlor. Parlor decoration. The piano. The library. Arrangement of books. The "Den." The living-room. The dining-room. Bedrooms. How to make a bed. The guest chamber. Window shades and blinds. CHAPTER VIII THE MOTHER Nursing the child. The mother's diet. Weaning. The nursing bottle. Milk for the baby. The baby's table manners. His bath. Cleansing his eyes and nose. Relief of colic. Care of the diaper. CHAPTER IX THE MOTHER The school child. Breakfast, Luncheon, Supper. Aiding the teacher at home. Manual training. Utilizing the collecting mania. Physical exercise. Intellectual exercise. Forming the bath habit. Teething. Forming the toothbrush habit. Shoes for children. Dress. Hats. CHAPTER X CARE OF THE PERSON The mother's duty toward herself--Her dress. Etiquette and good manners. The Golden Rule. Pride in personal appearance. The science of beauty culture. Manicuring as a home employment. Recipes for toilet preparations. Nail-biting. Fragile nails. White spots. Chapped hands. Care of the skin. Facial massage. Recipes for skin lotions. Treatment of facial blemishes and disorders. Care of the hair. Diseases of the scalp and hair. Gray hair. Care of eyebrows and eyelashes. CHAPTER XI GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF COOKING The prevalence of good receipts for all save meat dishes. Increased cost of meat makes these desirable. No need to save expense by giving up meat. The "Government Cook Book." Value of the cuts of meat. CHAPTER XII GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF COOKING Texture and flavor of meat. General methods of cooking meat. Economies in use of meat. CHAPTER XIII RECIPES FOR MEAT DISHES Trying out fat. Extending the flavor of meat. Meat stew. Meat dumplings. Meat pies and similar dishes. Meat with starchy materials. Turkish pilaf. Stew from cold roast. Meat with beans. Haricot of mutton. Meat salads. Meat with eggs. Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding. Corned beef hash with poached eggs. Stuffing. Mock duck. Veal or beef birds. Utilizing the cheaper cuts of meat. CHAPTER XIV RECIPES FOR MEAT DISHES Prolonged cooking at low heat. Stewed shin of beef. Boiled beef with horseradish sauce. Stuffed heart. Braised beef, pot roast, and beef a la mode. Hungarian goulash. Casserole cookery. Meat cooked with vinegar. Sour beef. Sour beefsteak. Pounded meat. Farmer stew. Spanish beefsteak. Chopped meat. Savory rolls. Developing flavor of meat. Retaining natural flavors. Round steak on biscuits. Flavor of browned meat or fat. Salt pork with milk gravy. "Salt-fish dinner." Sauces. Mock venison. CHAPTER XV HOUSEHOLD RECIPES Various recipes arranged alphabetically. INTRODUCTION What a tribute to the worth of woman are the names by which she is enshrined in common speech! What tender associations halo the names of _wife, mother, sister_ and _daughter!_ It must never be forgotten that the dearest, most sacred of these names, are, in origin, connected with the dignity of service. In early speech the wife, or wife-man (woman) was the "weaver," whose care it was to clothe the family, as it was the husband's duty to "feed" it, or to provide the materials of sustenance. The mother or matron was named from the most tender and sacred of human functions, the nursing of the babe; the daughter from her original duty, in the pastoral age, of milking the cows. The lady was so-called from the social obligations entailed on the prosperous woman, of "loaf-giving," or dispensing charity to the less fortunate. As dame, madame, madonna, in the old days of aristocracy, she bore equal rank with the lord and master, and carried down to our better democratic age the co-partnership of civic and family rights and duties. Modern science and invention, civic and economic progress, the growth of humanitarian ideas, and the approach to Christian unity, are all combining to give woman and woman's work a central place in the social order. The vast machinery of government, especially in the new activities of the Agricultural and Labor Departments applied to investigations and experiments into the questions of pure food, household economy and employments suited to woman, is now directed more than ever before to the uplifting of American homes and the assistance of the homemakers. These researches are at the call of every housewife. However, to save her the bewilderment of selection from so many useful suggestions, and the digesting of voluminous directions, the fundamental principles of food and household economy as published by the government departments, are here presented, with the permission of the respective authorities, together with many other suggestions of utilitarian character which may assist the mother and housewife to a greater fulfillment of her office in the uplift of the home. CHAPTER I THE SINGLE WOMAN Her Freedom--Culture a Desideratum in Her Choice of Work--Daughters as Assistants of Their Fathers--In Law--In Medicine--As Scientific Farmers--Preparation for Speaking or Writing--Steps in the Career of a Journalist--The Editor--The Advertising Writer--The Illustrator--Designing Book Covers--Patterns. She, keeping green Love's lilies for the one unseen, Counselling but her woman's heart, Chose in all ways the better part. BENJAMIN HATHAWAY--_By the Fireside._ The question of celibacy is too large and complicated to be here discussed in its moral and sociological aspects. It is a condition that confronts us, must be accepted, and the best made of it. Whether by economic compulsion or personal preference, it is a fact that a large number of American men remain bachelors, and a corresponding number of American women content themselves with a life of "single blessedness." It is a tendency of modern life that marriage be deferred more and more to a later period of maturity. Accordingly the period of spinsterhood is an important one for consideration. It is a question of individual mental attitude whether the period be viewed by the single woman as a preparation for possible marriage, or as the determining of a permanent condition of life. In either case the problem before her is to choose, like Mr. Hathaway's heroine, "the better part." The single woman has an advantage over her married sister in freedom of choice, of self-improvement, and service to others. Says George Eliot of the wife, "A woman's lot is made for her by the love she accepts." The "bachelor girl," on the other hand, has virtually all the liberty of the man whom her name indicates that she emulates. To the unmarried woman, especially the one who may subsequently marry, education in the broad sense of self-culture and development is of primary importance. The question of being should take precedence over doing, although not to the exclusion of the latter, for character is best formed by action. But all her studies, occupations, even her pastimes, should be pursued with the main purpose of making herself the ideal woman, such an one as Wordsworth describes, one with: "The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly planned To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light." It is an obviously true, and therefore a trite observation, that no one, woman or man, should consider that education (using the term broadly) stopped with graduation from school or college. But the statement that a grown person who has not settled down to some particular life work, such as is often the case with a young unmarried woman, should continue at least one serious _study,_ will not be so generally accepted or acceptable. Yet in no other way may that mental discipline be obtained which is necessary to the mature development of character. Neglect to cultivate the ability to go down to the root of a subject, to observe it in its relations, and to apply it practically, will inevitably lead to superficial consideration of every subject, and even ignorance of the fact that this is superficial consideration. As a practical result, the person will drift through life rudderless, the sport of circumstance. She will act by impulse and chance, and be continually at a loss how to correct her errors. The shallowness with which women as a class are charged is due to the fact that, their aim in life for a considerable period not having been fixed by marriage or choice of a profession, they do not substitute some definite interest for such remissness, and so form the habit of intellectual laziness. The study which an unmarried and unemployed woman should pursue may be anything worthy of thought, but preferably a practical subject at which, if necessary, the woman is ready to earn her living. Many a family has been saved from financial ruin by a daughter studying the business or the profession of the father, and, upon his breakdown from ill-health, becoming his right-hand assistant, or, in the case of his death, even taking his place as the family bread-winner. In these days when farming is becoming more and more a question of the farmer's management, and less and less of his personal manual labor, a daughter in a farmer's family already supplied with one or more housekeepers may, as legitimately as a son, study the science of agriculture, or one of its many branches, such as poultry-raising or dairying, and with as certain a prospect of success. Ample literature of the most practical and authoritative nature on every phase of farming may be secured from the Department of Agriculture at Washington, and the various State universities offer special mid-winter courses in agriculture available for any one with a common-school education, as well as send lecturers to the farmer's institutes throughout the State. To give examples of women who have made notable successes at farming and its allied industries would be invidious, since there are so many of them. Studies that look to the possibility of the student becoming a teacher are preeminent in the development of mentality. The science of psychology is the foundation of the art of pedagogy, and every woman, particularly one who may some day be required to teach, should know the operations of the mind, how it receives, retains, and may best apply knowledge. An essential companion of this study is physiology, the science of the nature and functions of the bodily organs, together with its corollary, hygiene, the care of the health. From ancient times psychology and physiology have been considered as equally associated and of prime importance. "A sound mind in a sound body" is an old Latin proverb. The need of every one to "know himself," both in mind and body, was taught by the earliest "Wise Men" of Greece. The Roman emperor Tiberius said that any one who had reached the age of thirty in ignorance of his physical constitution was a fool, a thought that has been modernized, with an unnecessary extension of the age, into the proverb, "At forty a man is either a fool or a physician." The study of psychology is a basis for every employment or activity which has to deal with enlightenment or persuasion of the public. The person who would like to become a speaker or writer needs to begin with it rather than with the study of elocution or rhetoric. The first thing essential for him to know is himself; the second, his hearers or readers--what is the order of progress in their enlightenment. Even logical development of a subject is subsidiary to the practical psychological order. Formal logic, the analysis of the process of reasoning, is a cultural study rather than a practical one, save in criticism both of one's own work and another's. More cultural, and at the same time more practical, is the study of exact reasoning in the form of some branch of mathematics. Abraham Lincoln, when he "rode the circuit" as a lawyer, carried with him a geometry, which he studied at every opportunity. To the mental training which it gave him was due his success not only as a lawyer, but also as a political orator. Every one of his speeches was as complete a demonstration of its theme as a proposition in Euclid is of its theorem. Lincoln once said that "demonstration" was the greatest word in the language. Delineation of character is the chief element of fiction, and herein literary aspirants are particularly weak, especially the women, far more of whom than men try their hand at short stories and novels, and who are generally without that preliminary experience in journalism which most of the male writers have undergone. It is not enough for a novelist to "know life"; he must also know the literary aspect of life, must have the imaginative power to select and adapt actual experiences artistically. Young women who write are prone to record things "just as they happened." This is a mistake. Aristotle laid down the fundamental principle of creative work in his statement that the purpose of art is to fulfil the incomplete designs of nature--that is, aid nature by using her speech, yet telling her story the way she ought to have told it but did not. This is his great doctrine of "poetic justice." The writing of children's stories is peculiarly the province of the woman author, and here, because of her knowledge of the mind of the child, she is apt to be most successful. The best of stories about children and for children have been written by school-teachers. Of these authors a notable instance was the late Myra Kelly, whose adaptations in story form of her experiences as a teacher to the foreign population of the "East Side" of New York will long remain as models of their kind. Journalism is a sufficient field in itself for a woman writer in which to exercise her ability, as well as a preparation for creative literary work. The natural way to enter it is by becoming the local correspondent of one of the newspapers of the region. In this work good judgment in the choice of items of news, variety in the manner of stating them, and logical order in arranging and connecting them should be cultivated. The writing of good, plain English, rather than "smart" journalese should be the aim. Stale, vulgar and incorrect phrases, such as "Sundayed," and "in our midst," should be avoided. There are two tests in selecting a news item: (1) Will it interest readers? (2) Ought they to know it? When by these tests an item is proved to be real news that demands publication, it should be published regardless of a third consideration, which is too often made a primary one: Will it please the persons concerned? This consideration should have weight only in regard to the manner of its statement. When the news is disagreeable to the parties concerned, it should be told with all kindness and charity. Thus the facts of a crime should be stated, who was arrested for it, etc.; but there should be no positive statement of the guilt of the one arrested until this has been legally proved. Many a publisher has had to pay heavy damages because he has overlooked, or permitted to be published, an unwarranted statement or opinion of a reporter or correspondent. But even though there were no law against libel, the commandment against bearing false witness holds in ethics. The woman at home may also become a contributor to the newspaper. Her first articles should be statements of fact on practical subjects, such as the results of her own or some neighbor's experiments in a household matter of general interest, or reminiscences of matters of local history that happen to be of current interest. Thus when a new church is erected, the history of the old one may be properly told. Here the amateur journalist may practise herself in interviewing people. After such a preparation as this, one may confidently enter the active profession of journalism as a reporter, preferably upon the paper for which she has been writing. Since in entering any profession opportunity for improvement and advancement in it is the first consideration, the young reporter should cheerfully accept the low salary that is paid beginners. There is no discrimination on account of sex in the newspaper world. Copy is paid for according to its amount and quality, regardless of whether it was written by a woman or a man. Women labor here, as elsewhere, under physical disabilities in comparison with men, and yet in compensation they have the advantage over men in their special adaptation to certain features of newspaper work, such as the interviewing of women, writing household and fashion articles, etc. There are more chances for this kind of special work in large cities, and here the aspiring newspaper woman may go, when she has proved her ability. Mrs. Ida Husted Harper, who stands in the front rank of newspaper women, has tersely stated the duties a woman reporter must undertake and the sacrifices she must make, as follows: "The woman who wishes to be a newspaper reporter should ask herself if she is able to toil from eight to fifteen hours of the day, seven days in the week; if she is willing to take whatever assignment may be given; to go wherever sent, to accomplish what she is delegated to do, at whatever risk, or rebuff, or inconvenience; to brave all kinds of weather; to give up the frivolities of dress that women love and confine herself to a plain serviceable suit; to renounce practically the pleasures of social life; to put her relations to others on a business basis; to subordinate personal desires and eliminate the 'ego'; to be careful always to disarm prejudice against and create an impression favorable to women in this occupation; to expect no favors on account of sex; to submit her work to the same standard by which a man's is judged." The salaries earned by women as reporters are, with a few notable exceptions, not large. As low as $8 and $10 a week are paid to beginners; from $15 to $25 a week is considered a fair salary, and $30 a week an exceptionally good one for a woman who has not received recognition as a thoroughly experienced reporter. It is from the ranks of newspaper women who have gone to the large cities and made a name for themselves as capable reporters that the editorial staffs of the magazines are recruited. As a rule they obtain their introductions by magazine contributions chiefly of special articles on subjects in which they have made themselves experts. The salaries of these positions range from $25 a week for assistant editors to $50 and upward for the heads of departments. Book publishers employ women of this class to edit and compile works upon their specialties. Quite a number of women in New York earn several thousand dollars a year each at such work, while continuing their regular editorial labors. Many newspaper women drift naturally into advertising writing, which is well-paid for when cleverly done. Since the goods chiefly advertised are largely for women, women have the preference as writers of advertisements. Then, too, manufacturers and advertising agents pay well for ideas useful in promoting the commodities of themselves or their clients. Here the woman at home may find out whether she has special ability as an advertising writer, by thinking out new and catchy ideas for the promotion of articles which she sees are widely advertised, and mailing these to the manufacturers. It is well if she have artistic ability, so that she may make designs of the ideas, though this is not essential. It is the advertising columns of the newspapers and magazines, even more than the reading matter, which give a demand for work in illustration. To the woman who has talent rather than genius in drawing, illustration and commercial art afford a far safer field, in respect to remuneration, than the making of oil-paintings and water-colors. If ability in drawing is conjoined with ability in designing and writing advertisements, the earnings are more than doubled. Since payment for the individual drawing is more customary than employing an artist at a fixed salary, illustrating and the designing of advertisements can be done at home. There are many young girls just out of the art-school who earn from $25 to $50 a week by such "piece-work." Akin to this work is the designing of book-covers, for which publishers pay from $15 to $25 each. Of a more mechanical nature is making the drawings for commercial catalogues, and the prices paid are low, $9 a week being the rule for beginners. Designers of patterns, etc., for various manufacturers receive a similar amount at first. They may hope, after several years of experience, to rise to $25 a week, or possibly $30 or $35. CHAPTER II THE SINGLE WOMAN Teaching--Teaching Women in Society--Parliamentary Law--Games--Book-reviewing--Manuscript-reading for Publishers--Library Work--Teaching Music and Painting--Home Study of Professional Housework--The Unmarried Daughter at Home--The Woman in Business--Her Relation to Her Employer--Securing an Increase of Salary--The Woman of Independent Means--Her Civic and Social Duties. Teaching is a profession that is particularly the province of the unmarried woman. The best teachers are those who have chosen it as their life-work, and have therefore thoroughly prepared themselves for it. A girl who takes a school position merely for the money that there is in it, expecting to give it up in a year or so, when she hopes to marry, is inflicting a grievous wrong on the children under her charge. There are other remunerative employments where her lack of serious intention will not be productive of lasting injury. Lack of preparation for teaching generally goes with this lack of intention, doubling the injury. Against this the examination for the school certificate is not always a sufficient safeguard, since many girls are clever enough to "cram up" sufficiently to pass the examination who have not had the perseverance necessary to master the subjects they are to teach, not to speak of that interest in the broad subject of pedagogy, without which the application of its principles in teaching the various branches is certain to be neglected. Enthusiasm in her profession, a whole-hearted interest in each pupil as an individual personality should characterize every teacher, for next to the mother, she plays the most important part in the development of the coming generation. There is a general complaint that the salaries of school-teachers are too low, measured by the rewards of persons of corresponding ability in other professions. When, however, the certainty of pay and the virtual assurance that the employment is for life if good service is rendered, are considered, together with the respect accorded the teacher by the community and the fact that her work necessarily tends to the cultivation of her mind, the lot of the school-teacher must be reckoned as one of the most favored. Americans are more prone than any other people to spend money on education, and this spirit is ever increasing, so that the school-teacher is more certain than the member of any other profession that she will be rewarded worthily in the future. The establishment of the Carnegie pension fund for retired college professors is an indication of this growing spirit, as well as the recent advance of the salaries of public school teachers in New York City and elsewhere, in recognition of the increase in the cost of living. To the bright woman who is interested in the study of civics, political economy, and sociology, there is opportunity to earn a living at home by organizing classes in these subjects among the club-women of her town. Teachers of parliamentary law are in especial demand. The organization of a mock congress for parliamentary practise is the most entertaining as well as the most improving play in which women can join. There is also a demand among women who seek an intellectual element in their recreation for instruction in the games of bridge-whist, whist, and chess. Bridge-whist is the most popular, largely because of the desire to win money and valuable prizes at the game. Then, too, a greater amount of time is spent at it than is legitimate for recreation. For moral reasons, therefore, the teaching of it cannot be recommended. Straight whist is also played occasionally for money, but this practise, happily, is rapidly becoming obsolete. Chess, except among professionals, is played purely for sport, and is therefore the best of games to study. Unfortunately there is very little demand for instruction in it by women; nevertheless, it is the best of all games for cultivating the analytical power of the mind, a faculty in which women, as a rule, are weak. This power may, with equal pleasure and greater profit, be gained by paying special attention, in the reading of books and magazines, to literary style and construction. The average reader assimilates only a small percentage of what he reads. The careful thought which the author puts into his manner of presentation, no less than into the matter, is appreciated by very few of his readers, and by these only to a limited extent. Especially is this true of fiction. If one wishes to become an author, he should first cultivate this power of criticism, always accompanying the study by exercises in reconstruction of faults in the author read. Thus, wherever a sentence appears awkward in expression, the reader should revise it; wherever there is a seeming error in the logical development of a subject, or the psychological development of a fictitious character, he should reconstruct it. Nothing is so helpful to a writer as self-criticism. Thus Mrs. Humphrey Ward has recently confessed that the happy ending of her "Lady Rose's Daughter" was an artistic error, false to psychology, her heroine being doomed to unhappiness by her character. After creating his characters, and placing them in situations where their individuality has proper scope for action, the author must let them work out their own salvation. A thoroughly artistic work is marked throughout by the quality of "the inevitable," and for this the reader should always be seeking. There is no surer indication of shallowness than the desire to read only about pleasant subjects and characters and events. It is akin to the habit of ignoring the existence of everything disagreeable in life, which Dickens has satirized in his character, Mr. Podsnap. And "Podsnappery" exists among women even more than among men, because of their more sensitive emotional nature. If women are to join with men in making the world better, they must not blink at the misery and vice about them, and the evil elements in human nature and society which produce these. To be good and brave is better for a grown woman than to be "sweet" and "innocent," in the limited sense of these terms. A woman, like a man, should, "see life steadily, and see it whole." The foundation of a critical habit in reading has a practical bearing, inasmuch as it is a direct training for the positions of book-reviewer and manuscript reader for magazine and book publishers. Since women read more than men, the woman's view of a manuscript is often preferred by publishers. Therefore there are more women than men in the position of literary adviser. These are paid salaries ranging from $25 to $50 a week. Manuscripts are read by the piece for from $3 to $5 each. Book reviews are paid for at all prices, from the possession of the book alone to the payment of a cent a word. It is best for the aspiring critic to practice herself on book reviews first. In these she can with profit display her power to analyze the artistic construction of books, and so develop her abilities as a manuscript reader. The knowledge of books and the ability to digest their contents are necessary to the making of a library worker, an employment which the great increase in libraries, through the benefaction of Andrew Carnegie and others, is offering to thousands of American women. The salaries are low, but in considering entering upon the work, weight should be given to the opportunities for literary knowledge and culture it affords and its refined surroundings. The making of a descriptive catalogue of the home library, using the card index system, forms an ideal test for the young woman who is uncertain whether she has the taste and ability required in this sort of work. To the student in the home, even though she intends to follow some other vocation, such as teaching or writing, such an inventory of her intellectual store-house will be invaluable. It matters not how small the library is, for "intensive cultivation" is as profitable in mental culture as in agriculture. Even such accomplishments as music and painting are most cultural when pursued as if the intention of the student were to teach them. Knowledge of technique and of the methods by which its difficulties are overcome is the foundation of all appreciation of art. The only true connoisseur is the one who can enter into the delight felt by the artist in creating his work. Exercise leads to invention. The ancients well said that the contortions of the sibyl generated her inspiration. Critics have been sneeringly defined as "those who have failed in literature and art," but this is not true of the greatest critics, who never carried their creative work to the point of success simply because they had found a better vocation in criticism before reaching such a point. What a loss to the world it would have been had Ruskin developed into a painter, even a great one, instead of the master interpreter and teacher of painting that he did become! Household employments, such as cooking, needlework, etc., as vocations for the unmarried woman, no less than the married, need only be mentioned here, as their appropriateness for the girl at home is obvious, and they are fully discussed elsewhere in this series. It should be suggested, however, that the greater leisure of the unmarried woman enables her to try experiments in these subjects while the married housewife is too fully occupied by the routine of her duties to undertake them. Indeed, if a woman become a notable cook after marriage, it is often a sign that she is not a notable wife or mother. It is an old saying that, "My son's my son till he gets him a wife, But my daughter's my daughter all her life." By the common bond of sex, a daughter is her mother's natural companion in sympathy, however separated from her in distance. Therefore, when she lives at home, what a special obligation is there to be her mother's comfort and dependence! Even though she acquire greater skill in household affairs, she should still resign herself to the subordinate place of assistant. The thought that she is becoming useless is the chief dread of a woman who has been a managing worker all her life, and her daughter should carefully avoid bringing this to her mind, indeed, should so act that the ageing mother retains the management of the house, even though her labors diminish. In respect to the direction of children, the elder daughter should take a hint from the manner in which the school-teacher supplements rather than supplants the mother in her care of the young people, leading to a difference in the kind of regard which these feel for them. The sister should always consider herself simply as the eldest, most experienced of the children, and so the natural monitor of the group, and, when necessary, the mediator with the parents. In a similar fashion the unmarried woman should act toward her neighbors who are wives and mothers. In matters where the interests of children and households are of chief concern she should resign the leadership to the married women, and, after them, to the professional teachers. Religious, social, and civic matters, wherein as a church member and a citizen she is on an equal footing with wives and teachers, afford her ample scope for exercising her instinct for leadership. Every unmarried woman who lives alone should, whether or not she possess an income, have a vocation. Earnings and wages are not alone good in themselves, but are an additional gratification, in that they supply a proof that the earner's service is of worth to the world. Some day, when social conditions are so adjusted that economic competition is really free, and wealth cannot be obtained save by service, money will be a proper measure of standing in the community. It is all the more a duty now, both to herself, her class, and to society, that the woman who works should contend to the last cent for her part of the wealth that is created by the business in which she is engaged. Where her work is equal to a man's, she should contend for wages equal to his; where it is inferior, she should be willing to accept less; where superior, she should demand more. In these matters women are apt to be either too complaisant or too clamorous. They should first be sure that they are justified in their claims, and then, if right, be firm in their demands, and, if wrong, be resigned to abandon them. The law of supply and demand acting in the labor market allots wages between workers with natural justice--certainly more equitably than the interested opinion either of employer or employee. It will be seen that the woman in business needs to study the fundamental elements of political economy even more than the housewife. Books and magazines are filled with superficial, obvious advice as to the way in which women as employees should conduct themselves toward their employers and fellow workers, but rarely is there a hint given of the actual rights and obligations of these relations, upon which the proper conduct is based. Employment is a business contract between employer and employee, in which there is no legal or moral obligation for either party to exceed the terms. Owing to an over-supply of labor, wages may be exceedingly low, even down to the starvation point, but for this condition the employer, if he be not also a monopolist, is not responsible. Indeed, as employer, his presence in the labor market as an element of demand raises the market wage. In fact, it is only by his increasing his business that he can raise wages. If he pay more to his employees than he needs to, or is profitable for him, this increase is not real wages, but a gratuity, something no self-respecting person likes to take. Some other class in society created this condition, and it is this class that the low-paid workers should blame, and, as citizens, take measures against, not the employers. Indeed, they should consider these as their natural allies in making better economic conditions. Accordingly, the woman in business should have sympathy for her employer, who owing to the prevalent condition of shackled competition has troubles of his own. She should aid him by loyal, efficient work, thus, and only thus, establishing a moral claim upon him to recognize her loyalty in kind. Personal relations, except of this nature, should not be sought by the employee, particularly if she is a woman. Outside of the office or shop she may meet and treat her employer as a fellow citizen and member of society, under the common rights of citizenship and the proper social rules, but in business hours she should obey the strict ethics of business. Thus she may don what dress she will when her work is done, adopt all the eccentricities of fashion she pleases, but she should wear with cheerfulness, and even pride, the simple dress prescribed, for good and sufficient reasons, as her working costume. Even when no such regulations are made, her good sense and taste should lead her to adopt a modest, practical working dress, simple mode of arranging the hair, etc. This is always agreeable to customers, and it is by pleasing these she best pleases her employer. Stenographers and secretaries have a special obligation to keep sacred the confidences of their employers. If they find that in so doing they are made instruments in perpetrating frauds on other business men, or the community in general, they have no right to expose these. Their only proper course is to resign their positions, holding sacred, however, the knowledge gained while acting as employees. It is only when formally relieved of this obligation by legal compulsion to testify in court that they may reveal this knowledge. While it is the custom of an employer to demand references of the employee, and not give them for himself, the only safe course for a woman seeking employment is to look into the character of the man for whom she is to work, and the nature of his business. This she may do indirectly in the case of character, and directly in the case of nature of business. If the employer refuses to impart this, saying, "Your work will be to do whatever I ask you," it is a blind, and therefore dangerous contract into which you are entering, and you should withdraw from it in time. When an employee has proved her efficiency, and has seen that it is producing an amount of returns to the business of which she is not receiving her proportionate share, it is her right and duty to ask for an increase in wages. If she fails to receive this, she should investigate the conditions in the labor market of her class, and guide her action accordingly. If she finds that there is a demand for workers of her ability at the higher wage, she should again proffer her request to her employer, with a statement of this fact. If he still refuses the increase, she should resign her position, upon proper notice, and seek employment elsewhere. When the unmarried woman employs herself in free service for the public good there will be no need for her to contend for the proper returns, which will be the love and respect of the community, given her in full measure. In comparison with these rewards, the honors of club president and society leader, for which many women contend with a rivalry that surpasses in bitterness contests for political honors among men, are mean and empty. The words of the Master to His disciples, that he who would be first among them should be servant to his fellows, should be taken to heart by American women, before whom are opening new and vast opportunities for the display of pride and ambition no less than for modest, faithful service. CHAPTER III THE WIFE Nature's Intention in Marriage--The Woman's Crime in Marrying for Support--Her Blunder in Marrying an Inefficient Man for Love--The Proper Union--Mutual Aid of Husband and Wife--Manipulating a Husband--By Deceit--By Tact--Confidence Between Man and Wife. "Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her the object of all her care, solicitude and affection. She will see nothing but by him, and through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, and share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness."--SIR WALTER SCOTT--_Waverley._ Marriage is the crown of woman's life, a dignity that is all the more honorable because it is of general expectation and realization. There is a presumption that the unmarried woman has missed the central and significant reason for her existence, the perpetuation and nurture of the race, and that the burden is upon her for compensating society by other services for this lost opportunity. Marriage for a woman means attainment first and fulfilment after, the reward given in advance of labor, and therefore entailing a special moral obligation that it be justified in its fruits. Nature gives the future mother peace of mind, rest from doubt as to career and from responsibility as to breadwinning, in order that she may tranquilly devote herself to her special function as the maker of the home. The fact that in the normal home the wife is relieved from the necessity of earning the living of the home sometimes has the effect of making her careless about expenditure. The thoughtless wife, and here thoughtless means selfish, assumes that the problem of providing is "up to" the husband and takes no care to aid him in its solution. If the suggestion of her being a burden to him ever does cross her mind, she is ready to excuse herself by consolatory sayings such as "Two can live cheaper than one," the truth of which, though universal when every wife was a producer of such things as clothing that are now bought is now the case only in agricultural homes, and even there has lost a great deal of its force. Men do not marry now, as they once did, for economic reasons, but rather in spite of them, for the higher rewards of love and companionship of wife and children, and this the wife should recognize by giving her husband the things for which he has made his economic sacrifice. In the old days a man who did not marry paid for his liberty by loss of physical comfort and wealth. Thus Hesiod, one of the earliest Greek poets, in his Farmer's Almanac called "Works and Days," coupled the marrying of a wife with the purchase of a yoke of oxen and a plow as the first things needful in beginning to farm, and this in despite of the fact that he was a woman-hater. Now it is the woman who is tempted to marry for economic reasons, to be certain of material support while she exercises herself in those household avocations and social pleasures which constitute the main activities of women. This is a legitimate consideration only when the interest of the man is also taken into account. Marriage to a man whom she does not love is a crime for any woman; giving falsely the offerings of love for material things is harlotry even though legitimated by vows and ceremonies. On the other hand, marriage for love to a man who cannot support her is a sad mistake for a woman who is not able or willing to take the place of breadwinner, for such a union defeats its own purpose. Therefore, in kindness to the man as well as to herself, such a woman should satisfy herself that he can support her, not necessarily in "the style to which she has been accustomed," but in the style necessary for her to perform the duties of homemaker and mother. Those marriages are the happiest where a wife can also enter into sympathy with her husband's business ambitions in particular and ideals of life in general. Here she is peculiarly his helpmate. He can hire a housekeeper, but not a companion of his bosom. A girl properly reared will naturally be drawn to a man complementary to her in character--not "opposite," as is so often said. Opposition implies antagonism, which would be the ruin of home life. The term complementary implies similarity in the main elements of character with adaptable differences. Good qualities, such as strength and delicacy, may complement each other, but not evil and good qualities, such as brutality and tenderness. As Scott says in the quotation at the head of this chapter, a tender wife may suit the taste of a churlish husband, but only by not long surviving his unkindness. While such opposition may not result in actual death, it certainly leads to the demise of all that makes life worth living. A woman should not expect to find a perfect husband. Indeed, her chief usefulness to him will be in her strengthening his weak points, and cultivating his right inclinations until they are confirmed habits. Yet in this work she should realize the imperfections in herself, and respond to the similar aid he gives her by his example and suggestions. Mutual aid is the great bond of marriage, as it is of all human relations. Women, from their weaker condition, have from ages past been trained to gain their desires from men by indirection. In the worst form, this appears as deceit; in the best, as tact. Laying aside the moral aspect, deceit is always unwise in a wife, since, in time, it defeats its own end. Many a woman thinks that she is deceiving her husband, since she wins her points, when he thoroughly recognizes her machinations, and accedes to them without contest simply for peace in the household, acquiring a feeling of moral superiority to her which, though it may be tolerant, is nevertheless contemptuous. But when she employs loving tact, especially in the improvement of her husband's habits and traits, even though he realizes it, he is at heart grateful for it, and proud of his wife's superiority in these points. In those matters where the characters of husband and wife are strong enough to permit frankness, this should always be employed. In all the grave problems of life there should be perfect confidence between the pair who have taken the solemn vows of wedlock. Any third party that enjoys a superior confidence with one of them, whether relative or friend, even the pastor or family physician, is the man invoked against in the marriage charge, who "puts them asunder." Where unhappily the husband is irreligious and the wife is forced to seek confidential help and consolation of her spiritual adviser, she should strictly limit these to religious matters, else she will grow apart from her husband. George Moore, in his collection of stories entitled, "The Untilled Field," presents the propensity of women in Ireland to run to the priest for guidance on every question, as the chief cause of their domestic tragedies. In America the family physician is as apt as the pastor to be made the recipient of such confidences, with evil results where he is not wise enough to advise that the husband is the proper person to whom the wife should go. CHAPTER IV THE HOUSE Elements in Choice of a Home--The City Apartment--Furniture for a Temporary Home--Couches--Rugs--Bookcases--The Suburban and Country House--Economic Considerations--Buying an Old House--Building a New One--Supervising the Building--The Woman's Wishes. Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty: where, Supporting and supported, polished friends And dear relations mingle into bliss. JAMES THOMSON--_The Seasons_ When husband and wife are truly mated, they form a co-partnership in the building of the home. In this work the man, occupied with his business, must leave a large part of the direction, even in material things, to the woman. And these material things are of primary consideration, as they are apt to be in every problem of life. The happiness of home is immediately and always dependent on the kind of a house used for dwelling and its equipment for utility and comfort. The first thing to be considered is the location of the home. The choice of a good neighborhood, from both social and sanitary viewpoints, is essential. Good neighbors are almost as necessary as good air and good drainage. Even before the children have come, it is a limitation on the function of a home for husband and wife to be forced to seek social life entirely outside the neighborhood. If charity (that is, loving, helpful associations) begins at home, it certainly does not stop at the threshold, or leap therefrom over those nearest us. The best citizens are those who take a human interest in the people of their street, or ward, or village, for influence in civic reform is dependent on neighborliness. Children are good citizens in this respect by nature. Limited to association with children of the neighborhood, they form an affection for their playmates, which may lead to good or evil results, as these playmates are moral or vicious in their tendencies. Therefore, at the formative period of character children should be guarded from the debasing influences of improper companions, as well as such institutions as saloons and low dance-halls which are generally found to be the local causes of bad neighbors. Of course, a neighborhood should be selected where there are good public schools, churches, and allied institutions for education and culture. It is always a loss to a child in this democratic country to be educated in a private school, and yet, especially in cities, careful parents are often compelled to resort to private instruction for their girls and boys because of the lack of refining influences in the public schools. This is why it is often better for families, when the father works in the city, to live in the suburbs, where, as a rule, the best public schools are to be found. But it may not be feasible to live out of the city, especially in the first years of married life, and therefore the home life must begin in an apartment. The same sanitary considerations that obtain in choice of a neighborhood are essential in the choice of a flat. Good air, light, space, proper plumbing, and general cleanness are to be sought. Owing to the general demand for these advantages, and a limited supply of them which is due to economic conditions prevailing in our cities, they unfortunately require money, therefore, the flat-seeker is compelled to do the best he can with that part of his income which he may safely appropriate for rent. As a rule, this amount is not more than one-fourth of income. When an apartment house has been properly built, and the walls are settled and the plastering dry, it generally comes up to the standard of comfort and health. Here the latest improvements in plumbing will be apt to be found, and there will be no danger of vermin. Then, too, a concession is more apt to be made by the landlord, who is anxious to secure tenants, by remission of a month's or a fortnight's rent, to be taken out after the first month. The landlord of such a house is also readier than the owner of an old one to make decorations, and even alterations, to suit the taste of the tenant. The walls in the kitchen should be painted rather than papered, and other parts of the flat designed primarily for utility. Since light is the great desideratum, the paint, as a rule, should be light in color, though soft and tinted in tone for restfulness to the eye. Where wallpaper is used, it should have the same characteristics. Fanciful designs should be avoided. Indeed, plain paper forms the best base for artistic color schemes in the decoration of rooms, the variety in which is best obtained by the choice of furniture and pictures and other wall ornaments. When there is a prospect that living in apartments will be only a temporary arrangement, the furniture should be chosen with a view to its adaptability for a house. Thus folding-beds should be avoided, and other articles that gain space by complexity, however ingenious. Simplicity is the quality to be desired. Thus if the exigency of space requires that a living room by day be converted into a sleeping room, a couch should be bought for it, instead of a folding bed. It will then serve the purpose of a sofa as well as a bed. If it is a box couch, further economy will be gained by its use as a place to store the bedclothes. But the simplest of all arrangements is a divan bed, formed of springs and mattress alone, and supported on legs nailed to the corners of the spring-frame. Over it a cover should be thrown during the day, and the pillows in use, if there is not room for them elsewhere, should be slipped into covers harmonious in color with the couch drapery. Such a reclining and sleeping couch may also be used in bedrooms, although an iron or brass bedstead gives an appearance of neatness and personal privacy that is desirable in such chambers. Where there is lack of closet space and lockers, trunks can be utilized in a flat for storing things. Steamer trunks that can be placed beneath the beds and couches are therefore the best kind to buy. They can also be readily converted into window seats by making pads of cotton batting to fit the tops, and placing over them covers and pillow cushions harmonious with the decoration of the room. Long flat "wardrobe trunks" are sold, which contain at one end rods for hanging clothes, so that, when stood up on the other end against the wall they serve as wardrobes. They always look, however, like makeshifts, and so are more useful in travelling than in the home. Rugs are more desirable than carpets in a city apartment, since they can be more readily cleaned, and, in case of moving to another flat or a house in the suburbs, will be more adaptable to the new situation. Bookcases in a temporary home should be of the unit system, where each shelf is a separate box enabling the books to be moved without repacking, and permitting rearrangement to suit the new situation, or the acquisition of new books. Where, however, the lower part of wall space is desired to give room for articles of furniture such as couches, shelves can be built, beginning at four and one-half or five feet above the floor. Mr. Edwin Markham, the poet, whose home overflows with books, has greatly economized space by building for them a broad lower shelf, about eighteen inches wide, and, three inches above this, another shelf twelve inches wide, and, three inches above this, a third six inches wide. When these are filled with books the titles of all are exposed, and, by taking out the volume or two immediately in front, a volume on one of the back shelves is readily obtained. Thus, by walking about his room, Mr. Markham can look with level eyes for the book he wants, and procure it without recourse to a chair or stepladder. This plan of banking books also lends itself to a decorative arrangement of them. Except in matters such as these, where economy is imperative, the furnishing of a city apartment does not differ essentially from that of a house, and the reader is therefore referred to the discussion of this in the following pages. The suburban, village, or country home differs from the city apartment, or even city house, in that it has been built without the primary consideration of space. It is separated from other houses, even though by the narrowest space of green lawn, that gives a house the individuality and independence without which it is hard for it to gather the associations of home. Even when a detached house is found in a city, its architecture is generally hampered by its adaptation to its narrow grounds. It rarely has that rounded development of character which is as desirable in a home as in a person. In selecting a rented home in the suburbs, the cost of the husband's transportation to and from the city should be added to the rent to keep this within the proper ratio to income, just as the difference in price of provisions should be considered in that portion allotted to food. Provisions, even country produce, are often dearer in suburban communities than in the city, and less saving can be made by close marketing, because the farmers and gardeners find it more profitable to send their produce to the center of greatest demand, and therefore of readiest sale, even though it costs more for transportation than to the smaller markets near by. So suburban grocers and provision men are wont to buy in the city markets, and add the cost of transportation back from the city, and an additional profit for the transaction, to the price to the consumer. Owing to the close competition for householders among real-estate men, it is now almost as easy to purchase a suburban home as it is to rent one, and it is therefore advisable to do this. The interest on purchase, and the fixed charges of taxes, insurance, water rent, etc., should be counted as rent, but a higher percentage of income may be safely allotted to these than to rent proper, since the purchase is also an investment. As a rule, the increase of land value near a growing city will considerably exceed the diminution in the value of the improvements. Indeed, owing to the constant advance of cost of building material in recent years, there is often enhancement rather than depreciation in the house value. For these economic reasons it is advisable to buy an old house when its cost is less than the cost of constructing a new one of the same desirability. The home-seeker, however, should curb his propensity to make extensive alterations, for, one leading to another, he will find at the end (if he ever reaches it) that he has virtually built a new house at a cost greater than he could afford. On the other hand, he should avoid those houses built on speculation to sell. In these a showy appearance is gained at the expense of durability of construction, and the purchaser will find that he must pay in plumbing, coal bills, and general repairs an amount he had not calculated upon as interest on the home, for, unless he rebuilds the house at ruinous expense, these will be annual charges. The most satisfactory way, and the one leading to great enjoyment in satisfying the "nest-building" instinct which possesses newly mated people no less than birds, is for the owners themselves to plan and superintend the building of the home. There is an infinite variety of architectural plans spread before the homeseeker in books and magazines. An examination of these will be of great value to him in clarifying his hazy ideas, but he should not settle upon any one of them without expert opinion. He should employ a local architect, or at least a builder with practical architectural ideas, to examine every feature of the plan selected as nearest the homeseeker's ideal, and revise it according to local conditions, cost and availability of material, etc. Money is always well spent that relieves one of responsibility, enabling him to say thereafter, "Well, I did every thing I could to have the thing done properly." The woman's wish should be paramount in planning the building. The home is her workshop, and she should have every convenience she requires to do her work properly. Things that appear of minor importance to a man, the architect and builder no less than her husband, are to her most vital. What pockets are to a man or business woman in clothes, closets and shelves are to a woman in her house, and yet she usually has to fight for them with the architect as the business woman does for pockets with her dressmaker. Unless she has worked out the practicability of her ideas, however, she will be at a great disadvantage with the experts, and therefore it is wise for her to make herself as familiar as possible with the main principles of building and the special details of the improvements she desires, especially as this knowledge will be of great use in seeing that the work is done as ordered. Where she has not acquired this knowledge, and the husband is either incompetent or not free to undertake this supervision, it is well to employ a contractor, arranging for thorough, satisfactory work, and holding him strictly to the contract. The prime requisite in a house is that it be adapted for home life, be a comfortable place in which to sleep, cook, eat, rest and read, talk and laugh, and play and pray; in a word, in which to do all the work that enables these necessities and pleasures to be obtained. Next to the comfort of the family comes that of the outside world. It is desirable, though not essential, that the home contain facilities for entertaining. CHAPTER V THE HOUSE Essential Parts of a House--Double Use of Rooms--Utility of Piazzas--Landscape Gardening--Water-supply--Water-power--Illumination --Dangers from Gas--How to Read a Gas-meter--How to Test Kerosene --Care of Lamps--Use of Candles--Making the Best of the Old House. The parts that are desirable in a well-ordered house may be enumerated as follows: Cellar, the kitchen, the storehouse, the pantry, the laundry, the dining-room, the living or sitting-room, the lavatory, the parlor, the hall, the library, the nursery, the sewing-room, the bedrooms, including guest chamber, the attic, the piazzas. Where economy of space must be practiced, storehouse and pantry may be combined, and nursery and sewing-room; and one of the family bedrooms may be devoted to the use of the occasional guest. The hall may be thrown into the parlor. The parlor may be properly converted into a library and music room, although when the father is of retiring literary tastes, he should have a "den" of his own, where he may read and smoke in peace. The parlor is too often wasted space in a house. As the "best room," and very often the largest room, it is reserved for reception of guests, weddings, and funerals, and at other times shut up in gloomy grandeur from the family, except, perhaps, as the place of banishment for a naughty child. Except when used as a library and music room, it should be one of the smallest in the house, and may, indeed, be entirely dispensed with. The family living-room is not an improper place in which to receive a guest, especially one whom it is desired should "feel at home." Of the rooms for the family, the nursery is the best to dispense with, the very young children being kept under the mother's oversight in her sewing-room, or the attic, or a loft in an out-building being fitted up for the elder ones as a play-room. In the case of the loft, it is well to equip it as a simple gymnasium. It is mistaken economy to use the living-room as a dining-room, since this interferes with the orderly work of the house, no less than with the comfort of the family. It may with propriety, however, be made also the sewing-room, and, in general, the mother's managerial office. Here she should keep her desk and her household account-books, and meet the tradesmen and other business callers. It is also more suited than the parlor for use as a family reading-room and working library. Disorder that betokens use, such as magazines on the center-table, or of papers on the desk, is here not inappropriate. Indeed, it gives a homelike appearance even to the social guest. China and glassware and silver arranged in proper array in wall closets, cabinets, and sideboards are the most appropriate decorations of the dining-room. It is not at all necessary that there should be pictures on the wall of game, fruit and flowers, or "still life" studies of vegetables and kitchen utensils. Indeed, these have become so expected that a change is quite a relief to a guest, who would welcome even the death's head that was the invariable ornament of the Egyptian feasts. Any pictures which are lively and cheerful in suggestion are suitable. Those that have a story to tell or a lesson to point are never out of place in a room frequented by children. For convenience the table-linen should be kept in drawers or lockers built beneath the shelves containing the china. A butler's pantry is not an essential when such arrangements as these are made. The kitchen, pantry, storeroom, and laundry form, as it were, the "factory" of the house, with the range as the central "engine." Accordingly they should be planned with respect to each other to save steps. Fortunately this means also saving expense in construction. Architects have been most ingenious as well as practical in perfecting these arrangements, and the housebuilder, therefore, needs no advice from us. It cannot be too much emphasized, however, that the cellar is, from the standpoints of sanitation and comfort, the most important part of the house. There should be no attempt to save expense by limiting its proper size, materials for walls, windows for ventilation, drainage, etc., for money so saved will inevitably be paid out many times over in coal bills, doctor's fees, and, perhaps, undertaker's bills. A dry cellar must be secured at all costs, for the air from it permeates the whole house. Where this is damp, it leads not alone to disease among the inmates, but to the disintegration of the house itself, through what is called "dry rot," but is paradoxically the result of dampness. Edgar Allan Poe, in his weird story, "The Fall of the House of Usher," has given a mystical interpretation of the dissolution of an old homestead which really has a scientific explanation that might be found in the cellar. The proper floor of a cellar is a layer of broken stones in which tile drains are laid, having outlets into a common drain, and over which a layer of concrete is placed, The walls, of plastered stone, brick, or concrete, should rise above the ground far enough to permit small windows, and prevent the admission of surface water from rain or snow. These windows should open from within, upward, and there should be hooks on the ceiling to keep them open for ventilation. Where a house is heated by a furnace, the style of this should be selected with great care, special regard being had to the economy of fuel. The systems of steam-heating, hot-water heating, or hot-air heating have each their merits, depending on the location of the house and the climate of the region. The cellar can also be used as a storeroom for those things not affected by the heat of the furnace, such as perishable food requiring an ice-box or a cool place, vegetables, especially those with a penetrating odor; apples, canned fruit and goods, etc., should be kept here, and barrels of commodities, such as vinegar, that are bought in large quantities. Shelves should be built on the walls and hooks hung on the rafters to increase the facilities for storage. Articles hung upon the hooks should be tied in paper bags. It is well to have the cellar ceiled, to keep out the dust of the house and reduce the risk of fire. Here, of course, is the natural place for the coal-bin, and, when there are no out-buildings, the man's workshop. The laundry may also be placed in the cellar, and, in stormy weather, the clothes hung there to dry. In the country the cellar is a good place in which to build an ice-vault. The kitchen should, of course, be airy and sunny. The sink should be placed near a south window, if possible, to prevent freezing of pipes. An iron sink is more cleanly than a wooden one, and cheaper than porcelain and copper. It should have a platform with room for two dishpans, and a drying shelf, raised at one end to permit drainage. Where economy of space is essential, this shelf may be removable, permitting the use for other things of the table beneath. Two other tables are necessary in a proper kitchen equipment, one covered with zinc for a work-table, set near the range, and the other a plain table set near the dining-room, for the prepared dishes. There should be three lights, lamps in brackets, gas-jets, or electric bulbs, near the sink, range and food-table respectively. The refrigerator should be put outside the kitchen, in some such place as a sheltered part of the back piazza. Commodities such as tea and coffee, not requiring ice, should be kept in covered jars, preferably earthen, on a dresser or shelf, where the bread-box may also stand. There should be a kitchen closet for the flour-barrel and sugar-box, which should be covered for further protection from dust, flies, dampness, etc., and for the canned goods in immediate requisition. The stove or range should be selected with reference on the one hand to the amount of cooking to be done for the family, and on the other to the saving of fuel. Where there is a water supply, of course there should be a boiler connected with the range. This should be large enough to assure a sufficient supply of hot water for the house. There should be a shelf near the range for such articles as the pepper-box and salt-box which are in constant use in cooking, and hooks should be near at hand for hanging up the poker, lid-lifter, and a coarse towel for use in taking pans from the oven. Other shelves and hooks, of course, should be put in for the various utensils necessary in the kitchen. The floor of the kitchen should be covered with a good quality of linoleum. A perforated rubber mat may be placed at the sink, although this is not necessary. In fact, it is a better plan for the woman in the kitchen, as indeed elsewhere, to get rubber heels for her shoes. The Arabs have a proverb that to him who is shod it is as if the whole world were covered with leather, and rubber heels similarly cause every floor in the house, whether bare or carpeted, to be equally easy to the feet of the busy housewife. The laundry should be supplied with two tubs, an ironing-table, an ironing-board, and a stove for the boiler and the irons. The ironing-board should be supported upon two "horses" of the height of the table. The table should be supplied with an iron-rest. In a well-planned house there should be separate bedrooms for every inmate except the very small children. It is quite an economy in the care of the house that each child, at as early an age as possible, should have its own room and be taught to take care of it. Since the room is designed primarily for sleeping, care should be taken that the bed be placed in such a position that the light falls from behind the sleeper's head. The dresser should be so placed that the light falls on the face of the occupant of the room when he is looking into the mirror. Even at the expense of space in the bedroom proper, there should be a large closet in every sleeping-room. The deeper the closet the better, for, by using rods attached to the back of the closet and projecting through its width, whereon clothes-hangers may be strung, far more room will be obtained for clothes than where hooks and nails are employed. By the use of these clothes-hangers, too, suits and dresses may be kept in much better order. The top of the closet may be occupied by one broad, high shelf, whereon hats and bonnets may be kept in their proper receptacles. Shoes should be kept in a drawer at the bottom of the closet, rather than thrown on the floor beneath the dresser. It is a mistake to substitute a curtain for the door of the closet, since it is of the first importance to keep the clothing free from dust. Shelves are better than closets for the keeping of the bed linen. It is a handy thing to have a separate linen closet in the house, but this is not essential. The sewing-room of the mother is a suitable place for keeping the linen. Shelves are preferable to closets for this purpose. There should also be a medicine closet or locker in the mother's room which will be handy in case of sudden illness among the children. In view of the importance of sanitation, more thought than is ordinarily allotted to it should be given to the lavatory. Where there is room to spare, it is best to have the bath separate from the toilet, in order to prevent inconvenience in use. There should be a basin and toilet upon the ground floor, and a bathroom and toilet upon the sleeping floor. The walls of the lavatory should be tiled, or, if this is too expensive, they should be covered with water-proof paper. All toilet arrangements should be systematically kept clean, and the necessary supplies at all times provided. Piazzas may be made to add no less to the utility than to the beauty and comfort of the house. A lower back piazza, covered with vines, is the ideal place in summer for eating and such heating labors as ironing. When thoroughly secured from intrusion, an upper balcony furnishes the best of sleeping quarters for one wise and brave enough to scout the superstition of the bad effects of night air. Many persons of delicate health, even consumptives, have been restored to vigorous strength by sleeping in such a place, not only in summer but throughout the winter, save in beating storms. Closely conjoined with forethought for utility in the planning of a house is forethought for beauty. It is well to have an artistic imagination in visualizing, as it were, the "hominess" of the house as it will appear after its rawness has been mellowed by time, and its forms have been endeared by association. This imagination is specially essential in the planting of trees, arrangement of flower gardens, the choice of the kind of enclosure, whether hedge or fence, and, in general, all that is known under the name of landscape gardening. The housekeeper's work is greatly dependent upon the kind of water supply available for the house. In cities and towns the kind of supply is fixed for her, but in the country she is afforded her freedom of choice. She has a choice of water from wells or springs, which is more or less "hard," that is, impregnated with lime, and water collected from rain or melting snow. For household purposes rainwater is the more desirable, and, when properly filtered and kept in clean cisterns protected from the larvae of mosquitoes and other disease-bearing insects, it is also the best for drinking purposes. To one accustomed to drinking hard water from a well or spring, rain water is a little unpalatable, but after he is accustomed to its use he will prefer it. It is always wise to secure an analysis of the drinking water of the house, since water reputed pure because of its clearness and coldness is as apt as any other to be contaminated. Where soft water is not available for household use, hard water may be softened by the addition to it of pearline or soda, or by boiling, in the latter case the lime in it being precipitated to the bottom of the kettle or boiler. When well water is used for drinking some knowledge of the geology of the home grounds is essential. Thus, because the top of a well is on higher ground than the cess-pool is no reason for assuming that the contents of the latter may not seep into the water, for the inclination of the strata of the rocks may be in a contrary direction to that of the surface of the ground. When filters and strainers are used they should be carefully cleaned at regular intervals, since if they are permitted to accumulate impurities they become a source of contamination instead of its remedy. Every once in a while the housekeeper should take off the strainers from the faucets and boil them. There are many excellent systems for obtaining water power for the house in the country, each of which has its special advantages. The pumping of water to a tank at the top of the house by a windmill is that most commonly used. This is the cheapest method, but the most unsightly. Small kerosene or hot-air engines may be employed for the power at very slight cost, and will prove useful for other purposes, such as sawing wood or even operating the sewing-machines. Owing to the many inventions for isolated lighting plants by acetylene and other kinds of gas, dwellers in the country have virtually as free a choice of illumination as the people in towns and cities. Great caution is necessary in the use of any form of illuminating gas, since all produce asphyxiation. Accordingly, all gas fixtures of the house should be regularly inspected to see that there is no escape of the subtile, destructive fluid. The odor of escaping gas which is so unpleasant is really a blessing, in that it informs the householder of his danger. A cock that turns completely around and, after extinguishing the light, permits the escape of the gas, is more dangerous than a poisonous serpent. Yet there may be nothing radically wrong with this fixture, and the use of the screwdriver may make it as good as new. Gas should never be turned low when there is a draught in the room, nor allowed to burn near hanging draperies. Care should always be taken in turning out a gas-stove or a drop-light to do so at the fixture and not at the burner. This is not alone safer, but it keeps the rubber tube from acquiring a disagreeable odor from the gas that has been left in it. Great economy in the consumption of gas may be secured by the use of Welsbach and other incandescent burners. Where these are not employed, care should be taken to select the most economical kind of gas tips, and to see that when these become impaired by use they are replaced. In the large cities there is constant complaint of defective gas-meters, so much so that inspectors have been appointed to correct this abuse. It has been found, however, that many complaints have been unfounded because the housewives were not able properly to read the meter. Directions how to do this will therefore be found useful. A gas-meter has three dials marking tip to 100,000 feet, 10,000 feet, and 1,000 feet respectively. The figures on the second dial are arranged in opposite order from those on the first and third dials, and this often leads to an error in reckoning. However, there should be no trouble in setting down the figures indicated by the pointer on each dial. We first set down the figure indicated upon the first dial in the units place of a period of three places, then that indicated upon the second dial in the tens place, and then that indicated upon the third dial in the hundreds place. To these we add two ciphers, to obtain the number of feet of gas that has been burned since the meter was set at zero on the three dials. From this number we subtract the total of feet burned at the time when the preceding gas bill was rendered. This is generally called on the bill "present state of meter." The result of the subtraction will be the amount of gas that has been burned since the last bill was rendered. For example: 95,300, amount indicated on dial. 82,700, amount marked "present state of meter" on preceding gas bill. ------ 12,600, amount of gas for which current bill is rendered. Equal care must be exercised when kerosene is used for illumination, since, while it is not so dangerous directly to life, it is the chief source of the destruction of property. Accordingly the nature of kerosene and the way it illuminates is a profitable subject of study if we would prevent destructive fires. Really, we do not burn the oil, but the gas that arises from the oil when liberated by the burning wick and becomes incandescent when fed by the oxygen of the air. While kerosene requires a high temperature for combustion, it is closely related to other products of coal oil, such as naphtha and gasoline, which become inflammable at a low heat and are therefore very dangerous. Since the cheap grades of kerosene approach these products in quality, care should be taken to see that it is of high "proof" in order to prevent explosions. The proof required of kerosene differs in various States; that in some is as low as 100 degrees Fahrenheit, that is, the temperature at which the oil will give off vapors that will ignite. This is too low a proof, for such a degree of temperature is quite common in the household. It is safe only to use that kerosene which is at least 140 degrees proof, for then, even though the oil is spilled, there is little danger that it will ignite except in the immediate presence of flame. There is no danger at all in soaking wood with this kind of oil in a stove or grate wherein the fire has gone out. To test kerosene, put a thermometer into a cup partially filled with cold water, and add boiling water until the mercury stands at 130 degrees Fahrenheit. Then take out the thermometer and pour two teaspoonfuls of kerosene into the cup and pass over it the flame of a candle. If the oil ignites, it is unsafe. In order to prevent the flame from running down into the lamp and causing an explosion, the wick should be soft, filling the burner completely. The highest efficiency in the form of illumination is obtained by round burners, especially those in lamps which admit air to the inside of the wick and so induce the largest possible amount of combustion. Such a lamp produces quite a high degree of heat, and will answer the purpose of an oil-stove in a small room. Contrary to the popular idea, wicks should be carefully trimmed with scissors rather than with a match or other instrument. In extinguishing a lamp one should first turn down the wick and blow across the chimney, never down the chimney. Owing to the fact that the wick is constantly bringing up oil by capillary attraction, whether it is lighted or unlighted, lamps in which the wicks have not been cared are kept continually greasy. In fact, a lamp that is greasy or that gives out a bad odor is one that has not been properly cared. With due attention, lamps are as clean and handy a means of illumination as any other form. Candles, that are now used chiefly for decorative purposes, may still be practically employed for carrying light about the house. The danger from a falling candle carried by a child up to bed is not nearly so great as that which may result from either spilt oil from a broken lamp or the cutting glass of its chimney. To those who live in an old house, all the foregoing advice should prove a source of helpfulness in making the best of the old home, rather than of dissatisfaction with its seeming shortcomings. There are many simple, inexpensive ways of making it conform to the model house. Expense need only be incurred in sanitary improvement, such as the better drainage of the cellar, enabling it to be utilized for purposes which now crowd the "work-rooms" of the home, and the alterations of the windows to permit better lighting and ventilation. Very often a room can be made to exchange purposes by a simple transference of furniture, thus saving the housekeeper steps. A woodhouse can be converted into a summer kitchen, and the old one, during this season, used as a dining-room, though it may be found even pleasanter to eat out of doors under an arbor or on a wide piazza. A porch may be partitioned off into a laundry, and the attic ceiled and partitioned for use as a bedroom. Very often an old boxed-off stairway, built in the days when it was thought unseemly to show a connection with the upper bedrooms, can be relieved of its door and walls, to the increase of space in the lower room, and of the beauty of its appearance. Indeed, as a rule, there are too many doors in an old house. Some of these can be altered into open arched entrances, making one large commodious room out of two little inconvenient ones. Unused out-buildings can be turned into playrooms for the children, and even sleeping quarters. All these are changes that make for the beauty no less than the utility of home, as proved by the fact that many artists, especially those who have studied abroad where old country houses are more or less of this unconventional character, go into the country and alter in this fashion old and even abandoned houses into houses admired for their charming individuality. Illustrations of such "hermitages" frequently appear in the magazines, and may be studied for suggestions. Sometimes the alteration is of the exterior only. The repainting in a proper color, or the simple creosote staining of a weather-beaten house, with the addition of a rustic porch or the breaking of a corner bedroom into a balcony, will sometimes so transform an old house that it looks as if it were a new creation. CHAPTER VI FURNITURE AND DECORATION The Qualities to Be Sought in Furniture--Home-made Furniture--Semi-made Furniture--Good Furniture as an Investment--Furnishing and Decorating the Hall--The Staircase--The Parlor--Rugs and Carpets--Oriental Rugs--Floors--Treatment of Hardwood--Of Other Wood--How to Stain a Floor--Filling as a Floor Covering. Necessity invented stools, Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, And Luxury the accomplished sofa last. WILLIAM COWPER--_The Task._ Utility, comfort and elegance are, as Cowper shows, the three successive purposes for which furniture was designed. And to-day the order of development remains also the order of importance. The first things to be desired in any article of furniture are durability and simple application to its purpose. These being found, a person naturally looks to see if the use of them will contribute to his physical pleasure as well as his convenience, that the back of a chair is the right height and curvature to fit his back, and the seat is not so deep as to strain his legs; that the table or desk is one he can spread his legs under in natural fashion, and rest his elbows upon with ease; in short, that the furniture conforms to his bodily requirements, as the chair and bed of the "wee teenty bear" suited exactly the little old woman of Southey's tale. Last of all, the aesthetic pleasure, the appreciation of beauty by the mind, decides the choice in cases of equal utility and comfort. The artistic considerations are so many that furniture has become a branch of art, like sculpture or painting, with a large literature and history of its own. Since most authorities on the subject largely ignore the questions of utility and comfort, devoting themselves to the questions of aesthetic style, it will be useful to our purpose here to confine the discussion to the neglected qualities. As a rule, a durable, useful, and comfortable article is a beautiful one. At least it has the beauty of "grace," by which terms the old writers on aesthetics characterized perfect adaptation to purpose, and the beauty of what they called "homeliness," or, as we would now say, since this term has been perverted, of "hominess," the suggestion of adding to the pleasure of the household. The quality of "hominess" is greatly increased in an article of furniture by a frank look or "home-made" appearance. There is no more delightful occupation for the leisure hours of a man or woman, and no more useful training for a boy or girl, than the making of simple articles of home furniture. Really, the first article of furniture which should be brought into the house is a well-equipped tool-chest, and the first room which should be fitted up is the workshop. A vast amount of labor will be saved thereby in unpacking, adjusting, repairing, and polishing the old and the new household articles, so that life in the new home be begun under the favorable auspices of the great household deity, the Goddess of Order. When it is further considered that often small repairs made by a carpenter cost more than a new article, the tool-chest will be valued by the family as a most profitable investment. If it is not possible to procure the proper materials and tools for making the entire article, some part of the work, the shaping, and certainly the staining and polishing, can be done at home. If the visitor does not recognize the home quality in such an article, the maker does, and will always have a pride and affection for it. Many furniture manufacturers give in their catalogues designs of semi-made or "knock together" furniture, that is, the parts of tables, chairs, etc., cut out and planed, which it is intended that the purchaser put together himself. These, as a rule, are made of good material befitting the hand workmanship which will be put upon them, and are offered at a considerable reduction from the price asked for ready-made furniture of the same material. Furniture stains of excellent quality are found in every hardware store and paint shop, which can easily be applied by the merest amateur. It is never wise to buy flimsy furniture, however cheap. As a rule, there is too much furniture in the American home. It is better to get along with a few good, durable articles, even though a little expensive, than with a profusion of inferior ones. These soon reveal their "cheap and nasty qualities," are in constant need of repair, and quickly descend from the place of honor in the parlor to be endured a while in the living room, then abused in the kitchen, and, finally, burnt as fuel. Good wood and leather, however, are long in becoming shabby, and even then require only a little attention to be restored to good condition. When it is considered that in furniture there is virtually no monopoly of design or invention, and one therefore pays for material and labor alone, and competition has reduced these to the lowest terms, the purchaser is certain to get the worth of his money when he pays a higher price for durable material and honest workmanship. When it is further recalled that our chief heirlooms from the former generations are tables and chairs and bureaus, it will appear that it is our duty to hand down to our children furniture of similar durability and honest quality. Therefore, money spent for good furniture may be considered as a permanent investment whose returns are comfort and satisfaction in the present, and loving remembrance in the days to come. So often is the artistic beauty of a house destroyed by a bad selection and arrangement of furniture and choice of inharmonious decorations, that many architects are coming to advise, and even dictate, the style of everything that goes into the house. Thus Colonial furniture is prescribed for a residence in Colonial style, Mission furniture for Mission architecture, etc. There is a corresponding movement among makers of artistic furniture to plan houses suited to their particular styles. Thus "Craftsman" houses and "Craftsman" furniture are designed by the same business interest. Since, however, the average American home is something of a composite in architectural design, the housekeeper may be permitted to exercise her taste in making selections from the infinite variety of styles of furniture that are offered her by the manufacturers of the country. It is advisable, however, that the furniture in each room be in harmony. Let us briefly examine the articles of furniture and styles of decoration appropriate for the several rooms. The hall, now often the smallest, most ill-considered part of the house, was once its chief glory. In the old days in England, and, indeed, in America, the word was used as synonymous with the mansion, as Bracebridge Hall, Haddon Hall, etc. It was the largest apartment, the center of family and social life. Here the inmates and their guests feasted and danced and sang. Gradually it was divided off into rooms for specific purposes, until now in general practice it has narrowed down to a mere vestibule or entrance to the other rooms, with only those articles of furniture in it which are useful to the one coming in or going out of the house, combination stands with mirror, pins for hanging up hats and overcoats, umbrella holder, a chair or so, or a settee for the guest awaiting reception, etc. Often the chair or settee is of the most uncomfortable design, conspiring with the narrow quarters to make the visitor's impression of the house and its inmates a very disagreeable one. If space is lacking to make the hall a comfortable and pleasing room, it should be abolished, and the visitor, if a social one, taken at once to the parlor, and if a business one, to the living-room. Where, however, size permits it, the hall should be made the most attractive part of the house. Here is the proper place for a "Grandfather's Clock," a rug or so of artistic design, and a jardiniere holding growing plants or flowers. The wallpaper should be simple and dignified in design, but of cheerful tone. Some shade of red is always appropriate. Remember in choosing decorations that the colors of the spectrum--violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red--run the gamut of emotive influence from depression to exhilaration. Violet and indigo lower the spirits, blue and green hold them in peaceful equilibrium, yellow begins to cheer them, and orange and red excite them. However, the color scheme of a hall is largely dependent upon the wood-finish, because of the amount of this shown in the stairs. Dark red is a very suitable color for the stair-carpet. The best way to fasten this is by a recent invisible contrivance which goes underneath the material. Brass rods are ornamental, rather too much so, and carpet tacks are provoking, both in putting down and taking up the carpet. Where the hall and stairway are wide and room-like, pictures should be hung on the walls, interesting in subject and cheerful in decorative tone. The presence of the stairway, especially if this is broken by a landing, permits quite a variety of arrangement. The line of ascent should be followed only approximately. Remember that it is a fundamental law of art always to suggest a set idea, but never to follow it; to have a rule in mind, and then play about it rather than strictly pursue it. Art is free and frolicking. It gambols along the straight path of utility, following the scent of airy suggestion into outlying fields and by-paths, but always keeping the general direction of the path. The parlor, when this is not combined with the hall, should be furnished and decorated according to the chief use the family intend to make of it. If they are given to formal entertainment, the color scheme may be in "high key," that is, a combination of white with either gold, rose, or green, any of which forms a bright setting for gay evening costumes. But this decoration is not advisable in the case of the average American home, since it is too fine and frivolous for the reception of neighbors in ordinary dress. A quieter, more dignified color-scheme should be adopted; such as golden brown, with subdued decorations for the wall, and ecru-colored lace curtains for the windows. The floor may be of hardwood, in which case a few medium-sized Oriental rugs should be placed on the floor. It is not essential that these "match" the wallpaper, for they are of the nature of artistic household treasures, and so rise autocratically above the necessity of conformity. Where they are chosen with a view to the color scheme, it is advisable to make them the means of transition from the hall. If this is decorated in dark red, the rugs leading from it into the parlor may shade off from this into more golden tones. The design of the rugs should be unobtrusive. The homemaker should not feel that Oriental rugs are too expensive for consideration. Every once in a while their is a glut of them in the market, owing to an extensive importation, when they can be purchased at a price which will always insure the owner getting his money back if at any time he wishes to dispose of them. But the purchaser should be certain that the bargains offered are real ones, for rug-stores, like trunk-stores, always seem to be selling out "at a sacrifice." All Oriental rugs are well made, and, with proper usage, will last for generations, even enhancing in value. Therefore, they are always safe investments. Oriental rug-dealers repair rugs at a fair price for the time spent in doing so. Since the floor space of a room with rugs in it is about two-thirds bare, the rugs will often not exceed the cost of a good carpet. Hard woods take best a finish in brown or green, that gives an impress of natural texture impossible to secure by paint. Hardwood floors should be polished at least once a week with floor-wax, a simple compound of beeswax and turpentine, which can be made at home, or bought at the stores. This is useful for polishing any floor or woodwork. When the floor is not of hardwood, it may be stained. All varieties of stains are sold, the most durable, though the most expensive being the old-fashioned oil oak-stain. For the parlor and other floors, and corridors, stairways, etc., that do not get much wear, as well as for hardwood work in general, varnishing saves time and labor in cleaning. For proper staining, the wood should be thoroughly scrubbed with soap and water; then, when dry, brushed over with hot size. Use concentrated size, a dry powder, rather than that in jelly form, as it is more convenient. It is dissolved and should be applied with a broad paint-brush. The application should be very rapid to prevent congealing and setting in lumps on the boards; accordingly the bowl containing the size should be set in boiling water until it is thoroughly liquid, and kept in this condition. The number of coats must depend upon the absorbent nature of the boards. One coat must be allowed to dry thoroughly before another is applied. Over night is a sufficient time for this. Varnishing also should be done rapidly to prevent dust settling on it. It is best done in a warm room, without draughts. Do not use stains ready-mixed with varnish, as these do not last as long, nor look so well as pure stains varnished after application. When the boards are in bad condition they should be first sandpapered. Cracks should be filled with wedges of wood hammered in and planed smooth. They can also be filled with thin paper torn up, mixed with hot starch and beaten to a pulp. This can be pressed into the cracks with a glazier's knife. The use of putty or plaster of Paris for this purpose is not so satisfactory as these methods. For sleeping-rooms and living-rooms, which for sanitary reasons it is advisable to scrub, the stain should be left unvarnished. CHAPTER VII FURNITURE AND DECORATION The Carpet Square--Furniture for the Parlor--Parlor Decoration--The Piano--The Library--Arrangement of Books--The "Den"--The Living-room--The Dining-room--Bedrooms--How to Make a Bed--The Guest Chamber--Window Shades and Blinds. Housekeepers often prefer carpets to bare floors, and rugs for the reason that they "show the dirt" less. It is for this very reason that bare floors are best. Dirt is something to remove rather than conceal, and bare floors and rugs are more easily cleaned than carpets. Covering the entire floor with plain filling, as a base for rugs, is an alternative for either hardwood or stained floors. It should be in the deeper tone of the color employed as a main part of the room's decoration. When carpets are used, those in the hall, parlor, and dining-room should not be fitted into the corners, but a space should intervene between their edges and the walls. This may be filled with wood-carpetry, which, like all devices which suggest continuation of fine material through unseen parts, gives an air of art and elegance at comparatively little expense. Otherwise the floor, if hardwood, should be finished; if of other wood, stained and varnished. The carpet square is kept in position with brass-headed pins sold for the purpose. Articles of furniture which are suitable for a parlor used chiefly as a reception room are light side chairs, and a settee, cane-seated with dark frames, or willow chairs, and settee, stained a dark hue, and brightened up with pretty cushions. These are not dear, so a little extra expense may be incurred in buying the parlor-table, which should be graceful in design and of rich dark wood, preferably mahogany, or in mahogany finish. A small table, of similar design and finish, should serve for afternoon tea, and a pretty desk stand near a window, with writing materials for the use of guests. There should be a clock upon the mantelpiece, and a few other articles of vertu, such as a vase or so, a bronze statuette, etc., all harmonized by the common possession of artistic elegance. The pictures in the parlor should possess evident artistic merit. There should be no suggestion of amateurishness. Family attempts at drawing or painting, crayon portraits, etc., all photographs, with the exception of those intended as artistic studies, should be excluded from the walls. If good originals by capable artists are not obtainable, fine engravings, etchings, and even colored copies of noted pictures may take their place. A few books, well bound and with contents worthy of the binding, should lie on the parlor table, with a late magazine or so, for the entertainment of the waiting guest. There should be fresh flowers arranged in pretty bowls to add their impress of cheerfulness and beauty to the room. In most American homes the parlor is also the music room. Since a piano should be chosen for quality rather than appearance, an instrument of any finish is allowable in a room, whatever its decorative scheme. Except in a family containing an expert performer, a piano should be chosen for softness and richness of tone, instead of brilliancy. For most households the old cottage organ is a more practicable instrument than the "concert grand" often found in a small parlor, where its piercing notes, especially in combination with operatic singing, are so confined that tones and overtones, which should assist each other, mingle in jarring confusion. Indeed, when the parlor is large and high, a genuine pipe-organ built in a recess and harmonizing in finish with the woodwork of the room is not only the finest decoration possible, but the most appropriate musical instrument. Those families who possess an old-fashioned piano, such as thin and tinkly "square," are advised to have it overhauled and refinished by a competent piano-repairer, and preserved, if only for practice by the children. In case such an instrument has "overstrung" wires, it can be restored to a tone that is better than that of the usual upright piano. The parlor that is put to family use is usually the best room to fit up for a library. In this case the form-and-color scheme of furnishing and decoration should differ entirely from that when the room is used only for the reception of guests. The furniture should be heavier and larger, indicating utility, and its finish, as also that of the walls, floor and woodwork, in deep shades of the more restful colors of the spectrum. Sage-green is a good color for the parlor-library. The furniture may be of this or even darker hue. There is no better style of furniture for the library than the Mission, made comfortable by leather cushions. If leather is thought too expensive, there are fair substitutes for it in such materials as pantasote. But leather should be procured if possible. It looks better and wears longer, and even when shabby keeps its respectability. With the Mission furniture may be mingled an old-fashioned upholstered chair or so, such as a large "Sleepy Hollow." A Morris chair is almost as comfortable as this, and perhaps upholds the dignity of the room a little better, though it does not give the same suggestion of "hominess." An old-fashioned sofa, wide-seated, and designed to be lain upon, should be placed in the room with its head toward the light, so that the occupant may read while reclining upon it. In almost every old house there is a horse-hair sofa, either put away in the attic or even in use, which can be reupholstered to fit the color-scheme of the room. Books naturally form the chief ornament of the library. It is a mistake to give them an elaborate casing. The simplest form is the best; the shelves should run up evenly from the floor to a more or less ornamental and somewhat projecting top, terminating several feet from the ceiling. On this top a bust or so of an author may be appropriately placed, or copies of an ancient statue, and on the wall above, between the cases of shelves, may hang a few pictures, not necessarily bookish in suggestion, but reposeful in subject and tone, such as landscapes and marines. A writing desk of comfortable size, with its chair, is essential in every library. It should be as far away as possible from the type of the modern business desk, and therefore an old-fashioned article with a sloping top, which, when let down, serves for the writing board, is an ideal form. Manufacturers continue to make these desks for home purposes. The library table should be large and simple. One that is oval in shape is the best for the family to gather about, and therefore gives the most homelike appearance. The illumination of the library should center either upon this table, if a lamp is used, or above it, if gas or electric light. The desk should have a side-light of its own. Modern library conveniences are presented in so handy and presentable shapes that the room may be perfectly equipped as a literary workshop without crowding it, or detracting from its appearance. A dictionary holder (wooden, not wire), a revolving bookcase for other works of reference, and a card index of the library may complete the equipment. It will be well to utilize one or more of the drawers of the desk as a file for clippings. These should be kept in stout manila envelopes, slightly less in size than the width and height of the drawer, and with the names of subjects contained, and arranged in alphabetical order. The carpet should be plain in design, and underlaid with padding. The curtains should be of heavier and darker stuff than those in the parlor, and easily adjusted to admit the light. The library and living room are generally next each other, and so each may and should have a fireplace in the common chimney. That of the library should be of severer design; that of the living-room more homelike. Dutch tiles, with pictures that interest children, are specially appropriate for the latter. Where the father of the family demands a "den" for reading and smoking, this may be a small room on the same general order as the library, but with an emphasis on comfort. Thus, the sofa should be replaced by a wide divan, which may also serve on occasion as a sleeping-place. The Turkish style of furnishing is the customary one; the Japanese style being a fad that came in with the aesthetic craze, was carried to an uncomfortable excess, and has gone out of fashion. The most appropriate style for an American house is American Indian. The brilliant and strikingly designed Navajo blankets may be used for both rugs and couch covers, or hung up as wall-ornaments. Moqui basketware serves equally well for useful purposes, such as scrap-baskets, and for ornamentation. The pottery of the Pueblo Indians, being naive and primitive in design, is much more intimate and therefore appropriate than the Japanese bric-a-brac which it replaces. The living-room is the heart of the house, and everything in it should be of a nature to collect loving associations. Almost any style of furniture is admissible into it, if only it is comfortable. There should be rocking-chairs, for the woman and the neighbors who drop in to see her, other chairs stout enough for a man to tip back upon the hind legs, and little chairs, or a little settee by the fireplace, for the children. The mother's desk should stand here, plainer than the one in the library, but of design similar to it; there should be a sofa as comfortable as the library one, to which the mother should have the first right. The paper should be cheerful in its tone and with a definite design. This will become endeared by association with home to the children, and the mother should be slow to replace it. The window draperies may be home-made, such as of rough-finished silk or embroidered canvas, and the floor covered with a thick rag-carpet, preferably of a nondescript or "hit-and-miss" design. If the housekeeper thinks that this is "hominess" carried to excess, she may cover the floor with an ingrain carpet, or better, plain filling of a medium shade, on which a few rag rugs are laid, light in color. Very artistic carpets and rugs are made out of old carpets and sold at reasonable figures, and there still remain in some small towns throughout the country weavers who weave into carpets the carpet-rags sewn together by housewives for the price of their labor alone. There is a reason additional to its economy why this practice should not die out. The tearing up into strips of old garments, and the tacking of their ends together with needle and thread is work eminently suited for children, and one in which they take great pride, as it gives them a share in the creation of a useful and beautiful household article. The dining-room should be decorated in accordance with the quantity of daylight it receives. It should be, if possible, a light room, with preferably the morning sun. In this case, it is properly furnished and decorated in dark tones, on the order of the library; if the room is dark, the furniture, wood-finish, and wall-paper should be warm and light in feeling. The housekeeper has a wide variety of sets of dining table and chairs to choose from. Whatever she selects should be distinguished by the quality of dignity. Here is the one room in the house where formality is thoroughly in place; it is at table where bad manners are wont most to show themselves among children, and laxity in etiquette among their parents. Just as the exclusive use of the room for eating purposes saves labor in housework, so will its dignity in decoration aid in enforcing the mother's teaching of good habits to the children. Here, if anywhere in the house, plain wall-paper should be used, since the chief decorations are the china closet, cabinet and sideboard. The dining-room ought not to have a fire-place or stove if other means of heating it are available, since heat, like food, should be equally distributed to those at table. Preference in seating should be a matter of honor rather than of material advantage. Comfort and cleanliness are the qualities which condition the equipment and decoration of the bed-room. When one considers that a third of a man's life is spent in bed, it will be seen how exceedingly important is the selection of this article of furniture. The essential parts of a good bed are spring and mattress, and no expense should be spared here in securing the best. The frame, which though the ornamental part is the least essential, is a matter of indifferent consideration. There is no better kind of a bedstead than an iron or brass one, because of cleanliness and strength and the ease with which it may be taken apart and put together again. The pillows deserve almost equal consideration with the mattress. Since the feathers used in stuffing pillows may be cleaned, it is economical to see that these are of the best quality. Bed clothing is often selected under the mistaken impression that weight is synonymous with warmth, and heavy quilted comforts are chosen instead of lighter, woolen blankets. The pure woolen blanket is the ideal bed-covering and in various degrees of thickness may serve for all of the bed clothes save the sheets, and the light white coverlet, which is placed over all merely for appearance. With increasing attention paid to hygiene, single beds rather than double are coming into favor. Even where two people occupy the same room they will be more comfortable in different beds. It is a mistake for young people and infants to sleep with older people, or for those who are well and strong with sickly or delicate persons, as there is apt to be a loss of vitality to the more vigorous party. Everything connected with the bed should be regularly and thoroughly sunned and aired. The occupant on rising should throw back the bed-clothes over the foot of the bed, or, indeed, take them off and hang them over a chair in the sunlight. The first thing in making a bed should be to turn the mattress. The lower sheet is then put on right side up and with the large end at the top. This is tucked in carefully all around, then the covering sheet is put on with the large end at the top, but the right side under. This is tucked in only at the foot in order to permit the bed to be easily entered. Over these the blankets are placed and folded back at the head under the fold of the upper sheet. Pillow-shams should never be used, as ornamentation on a bed is not necessary, and if it were a sham is never an ornament. The walls of bedrooms may very properly be painted, as also the floors, to permit scrubbing, especially after the illness of an occupant. If papered, a chintz pattern is preferable; cretonne of similar design should then be used for furniture slips, etc. The woodwork may be white, with the chairs to match. There should be washable cotton rag-rugs, loosely woven to be grateful to the bare feet, at the bedside and in front of the bureau, dressing-table and doorway. Where space is limited, a combined bureau and dressing-table, or even a chiffonier with a mirror, may be used. A child's bedroom may very appropriately have a wall-paper of a design intended to interest it, such as representations of animals, scenes from Mother Goose, etc. This is also suitable for the nursery. The guest-room has come to be the _chambre de luxe_ of the house, the place in which every conceivable article is introduced that might be required by the visitor, all being of expensive quality. Probably it is best to conform to this practice, since it is an expected thing, but money spent on the guest-room beyond that necessary to make it simply the best bedroom in the house, brings smaller returns in usage than anywhere else. The average guest is more pleased with a room such as he sleeps in himself at home, than with one where elegance seems too fine for use. It was a plainsman, who, being lodged in such a room on a visit to civilization, slept on the floor rather than touch the immaculate pillow-shams and bed-cover, which he conceived to be parts of the bed clothing not designed for use. The window-shades of a house, since they show without, should be uniform in color, and no attempt be made to suit the individual decoration of a room to them. The material should be plain Holland, white or buff when there are outside blinds, otherwise green or blue. In recent years shutters, or outside blinds, have come somewhat into disuse. This is, on the whole, perhaps an improvement, for they are rarely manipulated with judgment, being either left open or kept shut for continuous periods. In the latter case they darken rooms which, though unused, would have been better for the admission of sunlight. The reason for this lack of manipulation is that they are opened and fastened with difficulty from the inside. All the purpose of the outside blinds is served by inside blinds, which are much more easily operated, and lend themselves admirably to decoration. One form of these, known as Venetian blinds, consisting of parallel wooden slats, strung on tapes, is coming again into vogue. They are cheaper than the usual sort of blinds, and are very durable as well as artistic. After all, however, shades are the most practical form of modulating the entrance of light into a house. CHAPTER VIII THE MOTHER Nursing the Child--The Mother's Diet--Weaning--The Nursing-bottle--Milk for the Baby--Graduated Approach to Solid Diet--The Baby's Table Manners--His Bath--Cleansing His Eyes and Nose--Relief of Colic--Care of the Diaper. But one upon earth is more beautiful and better than the wife--that is the mother.--L. SCHEFER. Tennyson says, "The bearing and the training of a child is woman's wisdom." Herein nature is ever urging her to the proper course. Thus the love of the newborn infant prompts the mother to feed him with her own milk, and this supplies exactly the elements he requires for healthy development. No other milk, however skillfully modulated, no "infant's food," however scientifically prepared, can fully take its place. Unless illness prevents her from feeding her own child, or she is of a moody and unhappy disposition, it is the mother's place to give her breast to the infant. The condition of mind of the mother has a great deal to do with the quality of the milk. A despondent and excitable temperament is often more productive of harm than a low physical condition. It is hardly necessary to warn the mother to be careful of her diet, as this has immediate effect on the quality of the milk. Of course, any drink containing alcohol must be avoided. Tea and coffee, except when taken in weak strength, have also a deleterious effect. Milk, and next to it, cocoa, are the best beverages for the mother. Mothers should also avoid taking medicine except when positively required. There is no need for the mother to vary greatly her solid diet. She will naturally select that which is most nutritious and easily digested. Anything that tends to make her costive, such as fruits or green vegetables, should be partaken of with discrimination. The baby should be fed with systematic regularity from the beginning. While a child does not need food for the first day after birth, nevertheless it is well to put it to the breast about six hours after birth, since for the first few days after child-birth the breasts secrete a laxative element which acts as a sort of physic upon the child, clearing its bowels of a black, tarry substance, that fills them. The full supply of normal milk comes after the third day. After the first feeding the baby should be put to the breast every four hours for the first day and after that every two hours, being kept there about twenty minutes each time. The mother should be watchful and see that the child is awake and is nursing. Even at this early age it can be compelled to learn a good habit. Unless it learns this habit, the mother will be put to great inconvenience and the baby will suffer because of the disarrangement of the systematic feeding. If he is allowed to nurse at his own pleasure, the results will quickly make themselves manifest in the form of colic, leading to wakefulness and bad temper. A baby should not remain awake more than four hours in the day on the whole, and he should be so trained that the eight hours from ten o'clock at night to six in the morning, when his mother is sleeping, should be for him also an uninterrupted period of slumber. The baby should be weaned at ten months unless he is unwell at the time or the weaning comes in the heat of the summer, when there is danger of his becoming sickly or peevish. Preparatory to weaning, the baby should be accustomed to the bottle. Provided the bottle holds half a pint or four glasses, the number of bottles may be increased from one a day at four months to two or six at eight months. The baby should certainly be weaned by the time it is a year old, as, even though the mother continues to have a plentiful supply of milk, this is not suited to his needs at this stage of his physical development. By this method of approach the act of permanently refusing the breast to the child will not greatly offend him. After a little crying he will philosophically accept the situation and reconcile himself to the substitute. Weaning is rendered easier by selecting a nursing-bottle which has the nipple in the shape of the breast. Care should be taken that the hole in the nipple is not too large, supplying more milk than the stomach can take care of as it comes, and so causing stomachic disorder. The nursing bottle should at all times be kept thoroughly clean by rinsing in hot water and washing in hot soapsuds. The milk for the child's bottle should, wherever possible, be what is called "certified," that is, the milk from a herd of cows which have been declared by the proper authorities to be all in good health, and which have been milked under sanitary conditions. This milk is delivered in clean, sealed bottles, preventing the admission of any dirt or deleterious substance from the time it leaves the dairy till opened. The milk for the baby should not be purchased from the can. Milk that has been sterilized, that is, bottled and put in boiling water for an hour, is not so good for the baby as pasteurized milk; that is, milk kept at something less than the boiling point for half an hour, since the higher temperature causes the milk to lose some of the qualities beneficial to the child. Since cow's milk differs in its constituents from mother's, having more fat and less sugar, there will be need at first to modify the cow's milk, weakening and sweetening it somewhat. One good recipe for modifying cows' milk is: One part milk, two parts cream, two parts lime-water, three parts sugar water, the sugar water being made by putting two even teaspoonfuls of sugar of milk in a pint of water. Condensed milk, which is often used as a substitute for cows' milk, is not nearly so good, since it has lost in the process of condensation one of the most important elements, that which forms bone tissue. Accordingly, babies fed upon condensed milk are apt to be "rickety," and they lack in general power to resist disease, which is primarily the mark of a baby fed on mother's milk, and to a slightly lesser degree, one fed upon cows' milk. The stomach grows very rapidly during infancy, increasing from a capacity of one ounce soon after birth to eight ounces at the end of the year, and this should be taken into account by the increase of the amount supplied it. After the first week, a baby should increase in weight at the rate of one pound a month for the first six months. If he falls behind this rate and remains healthy, more sugar and fat may be introduced into his milk. If, however, he fails to gain weight and is sickly, the milk should be diluted and modified so as to make it easier of digestion. Every mother should be warned against a common practice of starting the flow of milk from the nipple of the bottle by putting it in her mouth. Gums and teeth are rarely perfectly clean, and so form the favorite lurking place for disease germs, which, though they may not produce disease in the stronger body of the adult, may do so and often do so in the more susceptible physique of the child. Just as the child was trained to the bottle while it was still taking the mother's milk, so it should be taught gradually to eat solids while it is fed upon the bottle. After the child has been weaned at the tenth month, he can be fed occasionally on broths or beef juice as a substitute for one of the milk feedings. The broth is more of a stimulant than a food, aiding digestion rather than supplying nourishment. During the eleventh month, the yolk of a soft boiled egg, mixed with stale bread crumbs, may be added to the diet, together with a little orange juice or prune jelly. The latter will tend to keep his bowels free. After twelve months, the child may be gradually accustomed to eat stale bread, biscuit or toast, broken in milk, thoroughly cooked oatmeal and similar cereals, baked potatoes moistened with broth, mashed potatoes moistened with gravy, and rice pudding. The pudding is made of two tablespoonfuls of clean rice, half a teaspoonful of salt, one-third of a cupful of sugar in five cups of milk. Bake in buttered pudding dish from two to three hours in slow oven, stirring frequently to prevent rice from settling. At the age of two years and a half the child may be permitted to eat meat, preferably roast beef or mutton, cooked rare, or minced roast poultry. Even though sugar is a very essential ingredient in the child's diet, it is very unwise to let it have this outside of its regular diet. Pure candy does not hurt the child by impairing its digestion so much as by interfering with its appetite for plain food. The child should never be allowed to form an inordinate appetite for anything, as this is certain to cause a corresponding deficiency elsewhere in his diet. Even worse than the practice of giving candy to very young children is that of teaching them to drink tea and coffee. These are pure stimulants, supplying no tissue-building element, and taking the place of nutritious beverages that do, such as milk and cocoa. After a child is old enough to be permitted to partake with discrimination of the general food of the table, he should be allowed to eat with the family. From the beginning he should be taught table manners, the use of knife and fork and napkin, and the subordination of his wishes to those of older people. Next to feeding the baby properly, the most important duty of the mother is to see that it is kept clean. Even in its nursing days, after each feeding, she should rinse its mouth out by a weak boracic acid solution, since particles of milk may remain there which may become a source of infection. It is well for similar reason to wash her own breasts with the solution. A baby should be bathed regularly at about the same time each day. During the first days of a child's life, he should be sponged in a warm room, with water at blood heat. In removing the garments, the mother should roll the infant gently from side to side, rather than lift him bodily. It is well to have a flannel cloth or apron ready to cover the child when it is being undressed. The baby's face should be washed in clear water, firmly and thoroughly with a damp cloth, and dried by patting with the towel. Then soap should be added to the water and the other parts of the baby's body washed in it; first, the head, ears and neck, then the arms, one uncovered at a time, then, with the mother's hand reaching under the cover, the back, during which process the baby is laid flat on the stomach, then the stomach, and last, the legs, one at a time, the baby being kept covered by the flannel as much as these operations permit. The eyes of infants are prone to inflammation, and therefore require special attention in the way of cleansing. This can be done best by the use of the boracic solution upon a fresh pledget of cotton. Be careful not to use the same piece of cotton for both eyes, and to burn it after use. When the nose is stopped with mucous, a similar means can be used for cleansing it. Every mother should study the individual nature and disposition of her child, in order to know what to do for it when it cries, for a cry may mean over-feeding as well as under-feeding, colic, or a wet diaper. Colic is often quickly relieved by turning the baby upon his stomach and rubbing his back, or by holding him in front of the fire, or wrapping him in a heated blanket. In drying the baby his comfort will be greatly increased by the use of talcum powder. Of course, soiled diapers should not be put on a child again until they are thoroughly washed. It will save the mother much trouble if absorbent cotton is placed within the diapers to receive the discharges from the bowels. These should be afterwards burned. Too many clothes is bad for a young baby. If his stomach be well protected by a flannel band and he is kept from draughts, his other clothing may be very light, especially in summer. CHAPTER IX THE MOTHER The School-child--Breakfast--Luncheon--Supper--Aiding the Teacher at Home--Manual Training--Utilizing the Collecting Mania--Physical Exercise--Intellectual Exercise--Forming the Bath Habit--Teething--Forming the Toothbrush Habit--Shoes for Children--Dress--Hats. When the child reaches the school-age especial care should be taken of his diet. He should not be allowed to have meat at breakfast, except a little bacon with his eggs, one of which may be allowed a school-child when young, two when older. Well-cooked cereals, such as oatmeal and cream of wheat, should form the staple article of diet, though these may be varied by the ready-to-eat breakfast foods, such as corn-flakes. He should always have either sound fresh fruit, or stewed fruit, to eat with the cereal. His bread should always be toasted. Muffins are better for him than pancakes or waffles, which, however, should be allowed him occasionally as a treat. As this kind of a breakfast largely consists of starchy foods, it should be eaten slowly, as starch requires thorough mastication. The practice of allowing children to lie late in bed, and then gulp their breakfast down in a minute or so, in order not to be late to school, is most pernicious. The luncheon put up for school-children may consist chiefly of sandwiches, preferably several small ones of different kinds, rather than one or two large ones. Biscuit sandwiches are generally more palatable to a child than plain bread ones. Besides those made of cold meat, there should be at least one cheese or one salad-and-nut sandwich, and one jelly sandwich. A hard-boiled egg, preferably one that has been cooked for some time in water kept under boiling point, will vary this diet. Of course fruit, such as an apple, an orange, or a banana, forms the best dessert. Occasionally cake, gingerbread, sweet biscuit, or a piece of milk chocolate may be put in the basket for a pleasant surprise. The supper of the school-child while young should be a simple one, something on the order of the breakfast. In the early days children were fed at night on hasty pudding, or mush-and-milk, (cornmeal), which is an ideal food when thoroughly prepared, the meal being slowly sprinkled into the pot, which was stirred constantly all the while. The North Italians prepare cornmeal in this fashion; the mush, which they call "polenta," forms an accompaniment of meat stews, thus affording all the elements of a "perfect ration." American cooks should employ cornmeal far more than they do. Mush in particular has the advantage possessed by King Arthur's bag-pudding, what cannot be eaten at night may be served "next morning fried." While fried food is, as a rule, not good at breakfast for any save one who has hard manual labor or physical exercise to perform, an exception may be made of fried mush and fried eggs, because their base is so nutritious that the heated fat can do little to impair their digestibility, while it certainly whets the appetite before eating, and pleases the palate when the food is in the mouth. It should be borne in mind that those foods which require much mastication ought especially to be made palatable in order to be chewed thoroughly. Therefore, starchy materials ought to be prepared in appetizing ways; on the other hand, meats, which require less mastication, may dispense with high seasoning and rich sauces, especially as they have their own natural flavors. The mother should closely follow the work of the child at school and aid this in every way at home. She should patiently answer his many questions, except when she is convinced that he is not really in search of information, but is asking them merely for the sake of asking. Wherever the child ought to be able to reason out the answer, the mother should assist him to do so by asking him guiding questions in turn. This is the method that Socrates, the greatest of teachers and philosophers, employed with his pupils, and, indeed, with his own children. It is as useful in inculcating moral lessons as in teaching facts. When one of the sons of Socrates, Lamprocles, came to him complaining that the mother, Xanthippe, treated him so hardly that he could not bear it, the philosopher, by kindly questions, led the boy to acknowledge his great debt to her for her care of him in infancy and in sickness, and, by showing the many things Xanthippe had to try her patience, persuaded him to bear with her and to give her that love which was her due. Where manual training is taught in the schools, the mother should give every opportunity to her children to practice it at home. Where it is not a part of the school course, parents should study to devise home substitutes for it, the mother teaching the girls sewing, embroidery, etc., and the father instructing the boys in carpentry and the like. The desire to collect things, which seizes boys and girls at an early age, should be turned into useful channels by teachers and parents. Often this valuable instinct is largely wasted, as in the collecting of postage-stamps, the impulse which it gives to geographical and historical investigation being grossly perverted--for example a little island, that once issued a stamp which is now rare, looming larger in importance than a great country none of the stamps of which have any special value. Every school, or, failing this, every home, should have a museum, not so much of curiosities as of typical specimens. These may be geological, botanical, faunal or archaeological; the rocks and soils and clays of the home country, the flowers of plants and sections of wood of trees; the skins of animals and birds (taxidermy is a fascinating employment for the young) eggs and nests (here the child should be taught to be a naturalist and not a vandal), and Indian arrow-heads and stone-axes. In this connection it should be suggested that the most valuable collection of all is a herbarium of the flowers of literature, specimens of which may be found in the home library. That a child is not fond of reading is testimony that his parents no less than his teachers have failed in their duty. Above all, the parents should see that their boys and girls have facilities for that physical culture which is necessary for health and proper development. Those exercises which are both recreative and useful are preferable. Gardening may be made a delight instead of a hardship, if the child is allowed to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Let him sell the vegetables he raises to the family, and, if there is an excess, to the neighbors, for pocket money. He will enjoy purchasing his own clothing even more than using the money solely for his pleasures. Healthful sports should be encouraged, and games, such as chess, that develops the intellect. There are many card games, such as "Authors," that impart useful instruction in literature, history, natural science, business, etc. Playing these in the home is a good thing no less for parent than child. Many a mother has acquired a well-rounded culture after her marriage through her determination to "keep ahead of the children" in their studies and intellectual activities. The child should be early accustomed to take cold baths, and then run about naked in a room under the impulse given by the tingling glow of reaction. If a play is made of the bath the habit will be formed for life, and in this way, one of the mother's chief struggles, to make the children clean themselves, will be abolished. It is natural for a child to get dirty, and therefore it should be made as habitual an impulse for them to get clean again. Of all such habits, keeping the teeth clean is most important. Children's teeth are a chief source of anxiety to the mother even before they make their appearance. Troubles in teething are generally due to innutritious and illy-digested food. Sometimes, however, when the food is all right, the teeth will still have difficulty in coming through the gums. Whenever the mother observes that her crying child refuses to bring its gums together on anything, she should examine them, and, if they are swollen, have them lanced. The "milk-teeth," even though they are temporary, should be looked after carefully, as their decay will often spread to the coming permanent teeth. Besides, they should be preserved as long as possible, and in the best condition, to aid in mastication. Accordingly, young children should be taught regularly to rinse out their mouths and to use a tooth-brush and tooth-powder. A child should run barefoot as much as conditions and climate permit. When it wears shoes, these should conform as much as possible to the shape of the foot. With such footwear, the active child may form for life the habit of a natural gait, especially if parents will point out the beauty and advantages of this, and praise the men and women of their acquaintance who possess it. It is about the time when a girl is learning _Virgil_ in the High School that she is tempted by vanity and the desire to be "like the other girls" to put on French heels. Then it is that the teacher or mother should quote to her the line of the _Aeneid_ about Venus: "The true goddess is shown by her gait," and save her from an irreparable folly. If mothers will remember that children are not dolls, and that mothers are not children to take pleasure in bedecking them, they will need no advice about dressing their little ones. There is only one rule for her to follow: She should consult the comfort and health of the child, and, as far as consistent with these, the convenience to herself. It may be "cute" to dress a child like a miniature man or woman, but it is cruel to the child. There is no reason for distinguishing sex by dress in young children. "Jumpers" form the best dress for either a little boy or little girl in which to play. Even when they are older and a skirt distinguishes the girl, bloomers or knickerbockers of the same material beneath, approach the ideal of dress for comfort, health and decency more nearly than white petticoat and drawers. Indeed, the skirt is best when it is a part of a blouse, which is also a suitable dress for a boy. A child should never be tortured with a large or stiff hat. The heads of children come up to the middles of men and women, and such a hat will be crushed in a crowd, and its poor little wearer placed in mortal terror. Indeed, children should be allowed to go bareheaded as much as possible, and, when they wear hats, have these simple in shape and soft in material. The plain cap is the best head covering for a boy. The girl's may be a little more ornamental, especially in color. The universal seizure by the sex upon the boy's "Tam o'Shanter" as peculiarly suited for a play and school-hat, is therefore right and proper. For a more showy style, lingerie hats are justified. But the most beautiful and appropriate form of the "best hat" for a little girl is one of uniform material, straw, cloth or felt, with simple crown, and wide, and more or less soft brim, ornamented by a ribbon alone. The addition of a single flower may be permitted, though this is like the admission of the camel's nose into the tent,--it may lead to the entrance of the hump--the monstrosity of the modern woman's bonnet, which of late years has by terms imitated a flower garden, a vegetable garden, an orchard, and, finally, with the Chanticler fad, a poultry-yard. The knickerbocker and the short skirt are aesthetic, that is eye-pleasing, because they mark a natural division of the body at the knee. There is an artistic justification, therefore, in mothers keeping their sons out of "long pants" as long as possible, and in fathers (for it is they who are the chief objectors) in opposing their daughters' desire to don the dust-sweeping skirt that marks attainment to womanhood. Here, however, it is proper that the wishes of the younger generation triumph. It is a social instinct to conform to the custom of one's fellows, and the children have reached "the age of consent" in matters of fashion. Their fathers and mothers may lend their influence to abolish foolish customs, or to modify them in the direction of wisdom, but it is best that this be in their capacity as citizens, and not as parents. CHAPTER X CARE OF THE PERSON The Mother's Duty Toward Herself--Her Dress--Etiquette and Good Manners--The Golden Rule--Pride in Personal Appearance--The Science of Beauty Culture--Manicuring as a Home Employment--Recipes for Toilet Preparations--Nail-biting--Fragile Nails--White Spots--Chapped Hands--Care of the Skin--Facial Massage--Recipes for Skin Lotions--Treatment of Facial Blemishes and Disorders--Care of the Hair--Diseases of the Scalp and Hair--Gray Hair--Care of Eyebrows and Eyelashes. Certainly this is a duty, not a sin. "Cleanliness is indeed next to godliness."--JOHN WESLEY--_On Dress._ In all her multitudinous concerns the housekeeper should not forget her duties toward herself. Many a mother in looking out that her children are a credit to the family in dress and manners and care of their persons, gives up all thought of standing as an exemplar of these things among the ladies of the community. This is a sacrifice of self that is not commendable, since it defeats its purpose. The mother should always be herself an illustration of the lessons she teaches, else they will not be seriously considered. It is impossible here to give more than a few general suggestions as to the dress and millinery of the mother. She should have a variety of simple house-dresses, suited to her various duties, and these should be kept as neat as possible. Each should be made for its purpose, not converted to it from one of her fine dresses. Nothing gives an impression of slatternliness more than the wearing about the house of a frayed and soiled garment "that has seen better days." The best dresses and hats of a woman, even one who goes little "into society," should also be sufficient in number and varied in style to suit the changing seasons of the year, and the widely differing occasions for use which occur in every station of life. The purchase of several good articles of attire rather than one or two is economical in the end. There is not only the obvious mathematical reason that, if one dress wears a year, four dresses must be bought in four years, whether this is done simultaneously or successively, but there is the physical reason that a dress, like a person, that has regular periods of rest, becomes restored in quality. Accordingly, all dresses should be laid very carefully away when not in use, and the proper means taken to refresh them. Unfortunately the arbitrary and senseless changes in fashion render this practice hard to follow. No woman likes to look out of style. However, by a little cleverness garments and hats may be adapted to the prevailing mode (although the arbiters of fashion, in the interests of manufacturers, try by violent changes of style to render this impracticable). These adaptations may not be in the height of fashion, but they will be in good form and taste. Indeed, it is never good taste to follow extremes of style. The well-known lines of Pope on the subject hold true in every age: "....in fashions the rule will hold, Alike fantastic if too new or old; Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside." Some of the best-dressed women in artistic and musical circles design their clothes wholly to suit their personal appearance, with such success that their independence of the prevailing mode of large or small hats or sleeves, striped or checked fabrics, etc., wins universal admiration. Remember that a dress or a hat is never a "creation" in itself. The wearer must always be considered. Short, stout women should avoid horizontal stripes or lines of ornamentation that call attention to breadth, and should choose those perpendicular stripes and lines which tend to give an impression of height and slenderness. A hat lining may be used to put rosiness into a pale face, and a color may be selected for a dress which will neutralize too much redness in the skin. But these are matters of common knowledge to all women. The trouble is, that in their desire to be "in style," many women forget, or even deliberately ignore these fundamental principles of art in dress. Fondness for a particular color, as a color, causes many women to wear it, regardless of its relation to their complexion; and there have been women of mystical mind who, believing that each quality of soul had its correspondent in a particular hue, wore those colors which they thought were significant of their chief traits of character--with weird results, as you may imagine. It is unnecessary, in this book of "practical suggestions," to discuss in detail the question of etiquette, which may be defined as "the prevailing fashion in social intercourse." Styles in visiting cards change from year to year, and the social usages of one city differ from another. If it is required to know these, the latest special work on etiquette should be procured. The general principles of good manners, however, which lie at the basis of etiquette, just as good morals form the foundation of law, although there are discrepancies in both cases, may appropriately be presented here, though briefly. Good manners and good morals alike follow the Golden Rule: "Whatsoever ye would that others should do to you, do ye even so to them." Egotism and selfishness are the bane of both. True politeness consists in considering the pleasure of others as a thing in itself, without regard to your own advantage. If an attention is paid, a gift given, a service rendered, these should be done solely for the recipient's happiness, not with a view to his making a return in kind, possibly with interest. It is good manners to call on people who will be pleased to see you; not on those whom you wish to see, but to whom you and your affairs are of no concern. A first visit to a newcomer in town is right and proper. A stranger is presumed to be desirous of making friends, but the first call ought to indicate whether or not he and you have that community of interest which is essential to friendship. If you are the newcomer, it is your duty to show your appreciation of the attention by returning first calls, but you should so act that your hosts will feel free to continue the acquaintance if it will be agreeable to them, or discontinue it if it is not. Indeed, in every situation you should give the other party this choice. Friendship is one of the most valuable forms of social energy, and it should carefully be conserved. Yet more than any other form it is wasted, because of a false regard for social conventions. At how many calls are both parties bored! How many persons--women in particular, who have not the man's freedom in selecting associates--continue in the treadmill round of an uncongenial social circle! To escape from this may require the special exercise of will, and the incurring of criticism, but these ought to be assumed. However, in most cases, a woman may gradually escape from the distasteful circle and form new and more congenial friends without remark. After the brightening effects on mind and spirits of social intercourse comes the advantage of toning up the personal appearance. A decent self-respect in dress should always be flavored with a touch of pride, for this is an excellent preservative. To have a proper pride, there must be the incentive of the presence of other people whose admiration we may win. Pride in dress is naturally conjoined with the care of the person. There is an excellent term for this, which, though borrowed from the stable, carries with it only sweet and wholesome suggestions. It is "well-groomed." A well-groomed woman is not only a well-gowned woman, but one who, like a favorite mare, is always spick and span in her person, and happy in her quiet consciousness of it. And every woman, whether she possesses a maid or not, indeed, whether she has fine gowns or not, may win the admiration of all her associates by her "grooming." CHAPTER XI GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF COOKING The Prevalence of Good Recipes for All Save Meat Dishes--Increased Cost of Meat Makes These Desirable--No Need to Save Expense by Giving Up Meat--The "Government Cook Book"--Value of Meat as Food--Relative Values and Prices of the Cuts of Meat. We may live without poetry, music and art; We may live without conscience, and live without heart; We may live without friends; we may live without books; But civilized man cannot live without cooks. ("OWEN MEREDITH")--_Lucile_. All the other duties of the housewife are subsidiary to the great subject of preparing food for the household. The care of the home, the care of health, etc., all either bear upon this work or require ability to perform it. With decks cleared for action, therefore, we will proceed to discuss the fundamental principles of cookery, the application of which, in the form of specific recipes, will follow in a separate chapter. In the limited space which can be here devoted to the subject, it will be assumed that the housewife is a cook, and can follow plain directions, and that she is familiar with the methods of preparing the ordinary meals that are universal throughout the country. It will be also taken for granted that she has one or more general cook books containing a wide variety of recipes for the making of bread in its various forms, cakes, pies, omelettes, salads, desserts, etc., and the discussion will be confined to meats, wherein, owing to advancing prices, new economical methods of preparation are coming into practice, based upon a scientific knowledge of food values. Vegetarianism and fruitarianism are being adopted by many households, less as a matter of principle than as a recourse from what are considered the present prohibitive prices of meats. Now the proper way to solve a problem is not to evade it, but to face it and conquer it, and this is eminently true of the meat problem. Granted that the proportion of family income devoted to food cannot be increased, it is a fact that, by an intelligent study of the food value of the different kinds of meat, and of economic ways of preparing them, the expense of living may be maintained at the former rate, if not, indeed, materially lessened, with a great increase in both the nutritive value and the palatability of the family meals. The "new nationalism" of America, which, after all, is only the turning to newer needs of the old nationalism that gave homesteads to the people and supplied them with improved methods of agriculture, is rightly taking the lead in the scientific education of the housekeeper in this household economy. With special regard to the requirements of the people in these days of rising prices, especially of meats, the United States Department of Agriculture has issued a booklet, prepared by C.F. Langworthy, Ph.D., and Caroline L. Hunt, A.B., experts in nutrition connected with the Department, which gives authoritative information about the cheaper cuts of meat and the preparation of inexpensive meat dishes. This has become generally known as "The Government Cook Book." By the permission of the Department we here present portions of the information it contains, together with those recipes which best illustrate the principles of meat cookery for the home table. VALUE OF MEAT AS FOOD Considering the fact that meat forms such an important part of the diet, and the further fact that the price of meat, as of other foods, has advanced in recent years, it is natural for housekeepers to seek more economical methods of preparing meat for the table, and to turn their thoughts toward the less expensive cuts and ask what economy is involved in their use, how they may be prepared, and whether the less expensive dishes are as nutritious and as thoroughly and easily digested as the costlier ones. The value of meat as food depends chiefly on the presence of two classes of nutrients, (1) protein or nitrogenous compounds, and (2) fat. The mineral matter it contains, particularly the phosphorus compounds, is also of much importance, though it is small in quantity. Protein is essential for the construction and maintenance of the body, and both protein and fat yield energy for muscular power and for keeping up the temperature of the body. Fat is especially important as a source of energy. It is possible to combine the fat and protein of animal foods so as to meet the requirements of the body with such materials only, and this is done in the Arctic regions, where vegetable food is lacking; but in general it is considered that diet is better and more wholesome when, in addition to animal foods, such as meat, which is rich in proteins and fats, it contains vegetable foods, which are richest in sugar, starch, and other carbohydrates. Both animal and vegetable foods supply the mineral substances which are essential to body growth and development. The difference between the various cuts of meat consists chiefly in amount of fat and consequently in the fuel value to the body. So far as the proteins are concerned, i.e., the substances which build and repair the important tissues of the body, very little difference is found. This general uniformity in proportion of protein makes it easy for the housekeeper who does not wish to enter into the complexities of food values to make sure that her family is getting enough of this nutrient. From the investigations carried on in the Office of Experiment Stations the conclusion has been drawn that of the total amount of protein needed every day, which is usually estimated to be 100 grams or 3-1/2 ounces, one-half or 50 grams is taken in the form of animal food, which of course includes milk, eggs, poultry, fish, etc., as well as meat. The remainder is taken in the form of bread and other cereal foods and beans and other vegetables. The portion of cooked meat which may be referred to as an ordinary "helping," 3 to 5 ounces (equivalent to 3-1/2 to 5-1/2 ounces of raw meat), may be considered to contain some 19 to 29 grams of protein, or approximately half of the amount which is ordinarily secured from animal food. An egg or a glass of milk contains about 8 grams more, so the housekeeper who gives each adult member of her family a helping of meat each day and eggs, milk, or cheese, together with the puddings or other dishes which contain eggs and milk, can feel sure that she is supplying sufficient protein, for the remainder necessary will be supplied by bread, cereals, and other vegetable food. The nutrition investigations of the Office of Experiment Stations show also that there is practically no difference between the various cuts of meat or the meats from different animals with respect to either the thoroughness or the ease with which they are digested. Therefore, those who wish to use the cheaper cuts need not feel that in so doing their families are less well nourished than by the more expensive meats. RELATIVE VALUES AND PRICES OF THE CUTS OF MEAT The relative retail prices of the various cuts usually bear a direct relation to the favor with which they are regarded by the majority of persons, the juicy tender cuts of good flavor selling for the higher prices. When porterhouse steak sells for 25 cents a pound, it may be assumed that in town or village markets round steak would ordinarily sell for about 15 cents, and chuck ribs, one of the best cuts of the forequarter, for 10 cents. This makes it appear that the chuck ribs are less than half as expensive as porterhouse steak and two-thirds as expensive as the round. But apparent economy is not always real economy, and in this case the bones in the three cuts should be taken into account. Of the chuck ribs, more than one-half is bone or other materials usually classed under the head of "waste" or "refuse." Of the round, one-twelfth is waste, and of the porterhouse one-eighth. In buying the chuck, then, the housewife gets, at the prices assumed, less than one-half pound of food for 10 cents, making the net price of the edible portion 22 cents a pound; in buying round, she gets eleven-twelfths of a pound for 15 cents, making the net value about 16-1/2 cents; in buying porterhouse, she gets seven-eighths of a pound for 25 cents, making the net value about 28-1/2 cents a pound. The relative prices, therefore, of the edible portions are 22, 16-1/2, and 28-1/2 cents; or to put it in a different way, a dollar at the prices assumed will buy 4-1/2 pounds of solid meat from the cut, known as chuck, 6 pounds of such meat from the round, and only 3-1/2 pounds of such meat from the porterhouse. To this should be added the fact that because of the way in which porterhouse is usually cooked no nutriment is obtained from the bone, while by the long slow process by which the cheaper cuts, except when they are broiled or fried, are prepared the gelatin, fat, and flavoring material of the bone are extracted. The bones of meats that are cooked in water, therefore, are in a sense not all refuse, for they contain some food which may be secured by proper cookery. It is true, of course, that the bones of the steaks may be used for soup making, and that the nourishment may thus be utilized, but this must be done by a separate process from that of cooking the steak itself. TEXTURE AND FLAVOR OF MEAT Although meats vary greatly in the amount of fat which they contain and to a much less degree in their protein content, the chief difference to be noted between the cheaper and more expensive cuts is not so much in their nutritive value as in their texture and flavor. All muscle consists of tiny fibers which are tender in young animals and in those parts of older animals in which there has been little muscular strain. Under the backbone in the hind quarter is the place from which the tenderest meat comes. This is usually called the tenderloin. Sometimes in beef and also in pork it is taken out whole and sometimes it is left to be cut up with the rest of the loin. In old animals, and in those parts of the body where there has been much muscular action, the neck and the legs for example, the muscle fibers are tough and hard. But there is another point which is of even greater importance than this. The fibers of all muscle are bound together in bundles and in groups of bundles by a thin membrane which is known as connective tissue. This membrane, if heated in water or steam, is converted into gelatin. The process goes quickly if the meat is young and tender; more slowly if it is tough. Connective tissue is also soluble in acetic acid, that acid to which the sourness of vinegar is due. For this reason it is possible to make meat more tender by soaking it in vinegar or in vinegar and water, the proportions of the two depending on the strength of the vinegar. Sour beef or "sauer fleisch," as it is known to Germans, is a palatable dish of this sort. Since vinegar is a preservative this suggests a method by which a surplus of beef may be kept for several days and then converted into a palatable dish. Flavor in meat depends mainly on certain nitrogenous substances which are called extractives because they can be dissolved out or "extracted" by soaking the meat in cold water. The quality of the extractives and the resulting flavor of the meat vary with the condition of the animal and in different parts of its body. They are usually considered better developed in older than in very young animals. Many persons suppose extractives or the flavor they cause are best in the most expensive cuts of meat; in reality, cuts on the side of beef are often of better flavor than tender cuts, but owing to the difficulty of mastication this fact is frequently not detected. The extractives have little or no nutritive value in themselves, but they are of great importance in causing the secretion of digestive juices at the proper time, in the right amount, and of the right chemical character. It is this quality which justifies the taking of soup at the beginning of a meal and the giving of broths, meat extracts, and similar preparations to invalids and weak persons. These foods have little nutritive material in themselves, but they are great aids to the digestion of other foods. The amount of the extractives which will be brought out into the water when meat is boiled depends upon the size of the pieces into which the meat is cut and on the length of time they are soaked in cold water before being heated. A good way to hinder the escape of the flavoring matter is to sear the surface of the meat quickly by heating it in fat, or the same end may be attained by plunging it into boiling water. Such solubility is taken advantage of in making beef tea at home and in the manufacture of meat extract, the extracted material being finally concentrated by evaporating the water. GENERAL METHODS OF COOKING MEAT The advantages of variety in the methods of preparing and serving are to be considered even more seriously in the cooking of the cheaper cuts than in the cooking of the more expensive ones, and yet even in this connection it is a mistake to lose sight of the fact that, though there is a great variety of dishes, the processes involved are few in number. An experienced teacher of cooking, a woman who has made very valuable contributions to the art of cookery by showing that most of the numerous processes outlined and elaborately described in the cook books can be classified under a very few heads, says that she tries "to reduce the cooking of meat to its lowest terms and teach only three ways of cooking. The first is the application of intense heat to keep in the juices. This is suitable only for portions of clear meat where the fibers are tender. By the second method the meats are put in cold water and cooked at a low temperature. This is suitable for bone, gristle, and the toughest portions of the meat which for this purpose should be divided into small bits. The third is a combination of these two processes and consists of searing and then stewing the meat. This is suitable for halfway cuts, i. e., those that are neither tender nor very tough." The many varieties of meat dishes are usually only a matter of flavor and garnish. In other words, of the three processes the first is the short method; it aims to keep all the juices within the meat. The second is a very long method employed for the purpose of getting all or most of the juices out. The third is a combination of the two not so long as the second and yet requiring so much time that there is danger of the meat being rendered tasteless unless certain precautions are taken, such as searing in hot fat or plunging into boiling water. There is a wide difference between exterior and interior cuts of meat with respect to tenderness induced by cooking. When beef flank is cooked by boiling for two hours, the toughness of the fibers greatly increases during the first half hour of the cooking period, and then diminishes so that at the end of the cooking period the meat is found to be in about the same condition with respect to toughness or tenderness of the fibers as at the beginning. On the other hand, in case of the tenderloin, there is a decrease in toughness of the fibers throughout the cooking period which is particularly marked in the first few minutes of cooking, and at the end of the cooking period the meat fibers are only half as tough as before cooking. CHAPTER XII GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF COOKING Texture and Flavor of Meat--General Methods of Cooking Meat--Economies in Use of Meat. A good idea of the changes which take place while meat is being cooked can be obtained by examining a piece of flesh which has been "cooked to pieces," as the saying goes. In this the muscular fibers may be seen completely separated one from another, showing that the connective tissue has been destroyed. It is also evident that the fibers themselves are of different texture from those in the raw meat. In preparing meat for the table it is usual to stop short of the point of disintegration, but while the long process of cooking is going on the connective tissue is gradually softening and the fibers are gradually changing in texture. The former is the thing to be especially desired, but the latter is not. For this reason it is necessary to keep the temperature below the boiling point and as low as is consistent with thorough cooking, for cooks seem agreed, as the result of experience shows, that slow gentle cooking results in better texture than is the case when meat is boiled rapidly. This is the philosophy that lies back of the simmering process. Losses of elements vary considerably with the method of cooking employed, being of course greatest where small pieces of meat are subjected to prolonged cooking. The chief loss in weight when meat is cooked is due to the driving off of water. When beef is cooked by pan broiling--that is, searing in a hot, greased pan, a common cooking process--no great loss of nutrition results, particularly if the fat and other substances adhering to the pan are utilized in the preparation of gravy. When beef is cooked by boiling, there is a loss of 3 to 20 per cent. of material present, though this is not an actual loss if the broth is utilized for soup or in some similar way. Even in the case of meat which is used for the preparation of beef tea or broth, the losses of nutritive material are apparently small though much of the flavoring matter has been removed. The amount of fat found in broth varies directly with the amount originally present in the meat; the fatter the meat the greater the quantity of fat in the broth. The loss of water in cooking varies inversely with the fatness of the meat; that is, the fatter the meat the smaller the shrinkage due to loss of water. In cooked meat the loss of various constituents is inversely proportional to the size of the cut. In other words, the smaller the piece of meat the greater the percentage of loss. Loss also appears to be dependent somewhat upon the length of time the cooking is continued. When pieces of meat weighing 1-1/2 to 5 pounds are cooked in water somewhat under the boiling point there appears to be little difference in the amount of material found in broth whether the meat is placed in cold water or hot water at the beginning of the cooking period. When meat is roasted in the oven the amount of material removed is somewhat affected by the character of the roasting pan and similar factors, thus the total loss in weight is naturally greater in an open than in a closed pan as the open pan offers more opportunity for the evaporation of water. Judging from the average results of a considerable number of tests, it appears that a roast weighing 6 pounds raw should weigh 5 pounds after cooking, or in other words the loss is about one-sixth of the original weight. This means that if the raw meat costs 20 cents per pound the cooked would represent an increase of 4 cents a pound on the original cost; but this increase would, of course, be lessened if all the drippings and gravy are utilized. ECONOMIES IN USE OF MEAT The expense for meat in the home may be reduced in several ways, and each housekeeper can best judge which to use in her own case. From a careful consideration of the subject it appears that the various suggestions which have been made on the subject may be grouped under the following general heads: Economy in selection and purchase so as to take advantage of varying market conditions; purchasing meat in wholesale quantities for home use; serving smaller portions of meat than usual or using meat less frequently; careful attention to the use of meat, bone, fat, and small portions commonly trimmed off and thrown away and the utilization of left-over portions of cooked meat; and the use of the less expensive kinds. The choice of cuts should correspond to the needs of the family and the preferences of its members. Careful consideration of market conditions is also useful, not only to make sure that the meat is handled and marketed in a sanitary way, but also to take advantage of any favorable change in price which may be due, for instance, to a large local supply of some particular kind or cut of meat. In towns where there is opportunity for choice, it may sometimes be found more satisfactory not to give all the family trade to one butcher; by going to various markets before buying the housekeeper is in a better position to hear of variations in prices and so be in a position to get the best values. Ordering by telephone or from the butcher's boy at the door may be less economical than going to market in person as the range of choice and prices is of course more obvious when the purchaser sees the goods and has a chance to observe market conditions. Each housekeeper must decide for herself whether or not the greater convenience compensates for the smaller range of choice which such ordering from description entails. No matter what the cut, whether expensive or cheap, it can not be utilized to the best advantage unless it is well cooked. A cheap cut of meat, well cooked, is always preferable to a dear one spoiled in the preparation. There is sometimes an advantage in using canned meat and meat products, and, if they are of good quality, such products are wholesome and palatable. That economy is furthered by careful serving at table is obvious. If more meat is given at each serving than the person wishes or habitually eats the table waste is unduly increased. Economy in all such points is important and not beneath the dignity of the family. In many American families meat is eaten two or three times a day; in such cases the simplest way of reducing the meat bill would very likely be to cut down the amount used, either by serving it less often or by using less at a time. Deficiency of protein need not be feared when one good meat dish a day is served, especially if such nitrogenous materials as eggs, milk, cheese, and beans are used instead. In localities where fish can be obtained fresh and cheap, it might well be more frequently substituted for meat for the sake of variety as well as economy. Ingenious cooks have many ways of "extending the flavor" of meat, that is, of combining a small quantity with other materials to make a large dish, as in meat pies, stews, and similar dishes. By buying in large quantities under certain conditions it may be possible to procure meat at better prices than those which ordinarily prevail in the retail market. The whole side or quarter of an animal can frequently be obtained at noticeably less cost per pound than when it is bought by cut, and can be used to advantage when the housekeeper understands the art and has proper storage facilities and a good-sized family. When a hind quarter of mutton, for example, comes from the market the flank (on which the meat is thin and, as good housekeepers believe, likely to spoil more easily than some other cuts) should be cooked immediately, or, if preferred, it may be covered with a thin layer of fat (rendered suet) which can be easily removed when the time for cooking comes. The flank, together with the rib bone, ordinarily makes a gallon of good Scotch broth. The remainder of the hind quarter may be used for roast or chops. The whole pig carcass has always been used by families living on the farms where the animals are slaughtered, and in village homes; town housekeepers not infrequently buy pigs whole and "put down" the meat. An animal six months old and weighing about one hundred pounds would be suitable for this purpose. The hams and thin pieces of belly meat may be pickled and smoked. The thick pieces of belly meat, packed in a two-gallon jar and covered with salt or brine, will make a supply of fat pork to cook with beans and other vegetables. The tenderloin makes good roasts, the head and feet may go into head cheese or scrapple, and the trimmings and other scraps of lean meat serve for a few pounds of home-made sausage. In some large families it is found profitable to "corn" a fore quarter of beef for spring and summer use. Formerly it was a common farm practice to dry beef, but now it seems to be more usual to purchase beef which has been dried in large establishments. The general use of refrigerators and ice chests in homes at the present time has had a great influence on the length of time meat may be kept and so upon the amount a housewife may buy at a time with advantage. In the percentage of fat present in different kinds and cuts of meat, a greater difference exists than in the percentage of proteids. The lowest percentage of fat is 8.1 per cent. in the shank of beef; the highest is 32 per cent. in pork chops. The highest priced cuts, loin and ribs of beef, contain 20 to 25 per cent. If the fat of the meat is not eaten at the table, and is not utilized otherwise, a pecuniary loss results. If butter is the fat used in making crusts for meat pies, and in preparing the cheaper cuts, there is little economy involved; the fats from other meat should therefore be saved, as they may be used in place of butter in such cases, as well as in preparing many other foods. The fat from sausage or from the soup kettle, or from a pot roast, which is savory because it has been cooked with vegetables, is particularly acceptable. Sometimes savory vegetables, onion, or sweet herbs are added to fat when it is tried out to give it flavor. Almost any meat bones can be used in soup making, and if the meat is not all removed from them the soup is better. But some bones, especially the rib bones, if they have a little meat left on them, can be grilled or roasted into very palatable dishes. The "sparerib" of southern cooks is made of the rib bones from a roast of pork, and makes a favorite dish when well browned. The braised ribs of beef often served in high-class restaurants are made from the bones cut from rib roasts. In this connection it may be noted that many of the dishes popular in good hotels are made of portions of meat such as are frequently thrown away in private houses, but which with proper cooking and seasoning make attractive dishes and give most acceptable variety to the menu. An old recipe for "broiled bones" directs that the bone (beef ribs or sirloin bones on which the meat is not left too thick in any part) be sprinkled with salt and pepper (Cayenne), and broiled over a clear fire until browned. Another example of the use of bones is boiled marrow bone. The bones are cut in convenient lengths, the ends covered with a little piece of dough over which a floured cloth is tied, and cooked in boiling water for two hours. After removing the cloth and dough, the bones are placed upright on toast and served. Prepared as above, the bones may also be baked in a deep dish. Marrow is sometimes removed from bones after cooking, seasoned, and served on toast. Trimmings from meat may be utilized in various "made dishes," or they can always be put to good use in the soup kettle. It is surprising how many economies may be practiced in such ways and also in the table use of left-over portions of cooked meat if attention is given to the matter. Many of the following recipes involve the use of such left-overs. Others will suggest themselves or may be found in all the usual cookery books. CHAPTER XIII RECIPES FOR MEAT DISHES Trying out Fat--Extending the Flavor of Meat--Meat Stew--Meat Dumplings--Meat Pies and Similar Dishes--Meat with Starchy Materials--Turkish Pilaf--Stew from Cold Roast--Meat with Beans--Haricot of Mutton--Meat Salads--Meat with Eggs--Roast Beef with Yorkshire Pudding--Corned Beef Hash with Poached Eggs--Stuffing--Mock Duck--Veal or Beef Birds--Utilizing the Cheaper Cuts of Meat. "To be a good cook means the knowledge of all fruits, herbs, balms and spices, and of all that is healing and sweet in fields and groves, savory in meats. It means carefulness, inventiveness, watchfulness, willingness, and readiness of appliance. It means the economy of your great-grandmother and the science of modern chemistry; it means much tasting and no wasting; it means English thoroughness, French art, and Arabian hospitality; it means, in fine, that you are to be perfectly and always ladies (loaf-givers), and are to see that everybody has something nice to eat."--JOHN RUSKIN. RECIPES (In these directions a _level_ spoonful or _level_ cupful is called for.) TRYING OUT FAT A double boiler is the best utensil to use in trying out small portions of fat. There is no danger of burning the fat, and the odor is much less noticeable than if it is heated in a dish set directly over the fire. Common household methods of extending the meat flavor through a considerable quantity of material which would otherwise be lacking in distinctive taste are to serve the meat with dumplings, generally in the dish with it, to combine the meat with crusts, as in meat pies or meat rolls, or to serve the meat on toast and biscuits. Borders of rice, hominy, or mashed potatoes are examples of the same principles applied in different ways. By serving some preparation of flour, rice, hominy, or other food rich in starch with the meat we get a dish which in itself approaches nearer to the balanced ration than meat alone and one in which the meat flavor is extended through a large amount of the material. MEAT STEW 5 pounds of a cheaper cut of beef. 4 cups of potatoes cut into small pieces. 2/3 cup each of turnips and carrots cut into 1/2-inch cubes. 1/2 onion, chopped. 1/4 cup of flour. Salt and pepper. Cut the meat into small pieces, removing the fat; try out the fat and brown the meat in it. When well browned, cover with boiling water, boil for five minutes and then cook in a lower temperature until the meat is done. If tender, this will require about three hours on the stove or five hours in the fireless cooker. Add carrots, turnips, onions, pepper, and salt during the last hour of cooking, and the potatoes fifteen minutes before serving. Thicken with the flour diluted with cold water. Serve with dumplings (see below). If this dish is made in the fireless cooker, the mixture must be reheated when the vegetables are put in. Such a stew may also be made of mutton. If veal or pork is used the vegetables may be omitted or simply a little onion used. Sometimes for variety the browning of the meat is dispensed with. When white meat, such as chicken, veal, or fresh pork is used, the gravy is often made rich with cream or milk thickened with flour. The numerous minor additions which may be introduced give the great variety of such stews found in cookbooks. MEAT DUMPLINGS 2 cups flour. 4 teaspoonfuls baking powder. 2/3 cup milk or a little more if needed. 1/2 teaspoonful salt. 2 teaspoonfuls butter. Mix and sift the dry ingredients. Work in the butter with the tips of fingers, add milk gradually, roll out to a thickness of one-half inch, and cut with biscuit cutter. In some countries it is customary to season the dumplings themselves with herbs, etc., or to stuff them with bread crumbs fried in butter, instead of depending upon the gravy to season them. A good way to cook dumplings is to put them in a buttered steamer over a kettle of hot water. They should cook from twelve to fifteen minutes. If it is necessary to cook them with the stew, enough liquid should be removed so that they may be placed upon the meat and vegetables. Sometimes the dough is baked and served as biscuits over which the stew is poured. If the stew is made with chicken or veal it is generally termed a fricassee. MEAT PIES AND SIMILAR DISHES Meat pies represent another method of combining flour with meat. They are ordinarily baked in a fairly deep dish the sides of which may or may not be lined with dough. The cooked meat, cut into small pieces, is put into the dish, sometimes with small pieces of vegetables, a gravy is poured over the meat, the dish is covered with a layer of dough, and then baked. Most commonly the dough is like that used for soda or cream-of-tartar biscuit, but sometimes shortened pastry dough, such as is made for pies, is used. This is especially the case in the fancy individual dishes usually called patties. Occasionally the pie is covered with a potato crust in which case the meat is put directly into the dish without lining the latter. Stewed beef, veal, and chicken are probably most frequently used in pies, but any kind of meat may be used, or several kinds in combination. Pork pies are favorite dishes in many rural regions, especially at hog-killing time, and when well made are excellent. If pies are made from raw meat and vegetables longer cooking is needed than otherwise, and in such cases it is well to cover the dish with a plate, cook until the pie is nearly done, then remove the plate, add the crust, and return to the oven until the crust is lightly browned. Many cooks insist on piercing holes in the top crust of a meat pie directly it is taken from the oven. MEAT AND TOMATO PIE This dish presents an excellent way of using up small quantities of either cold beef or cold mutton. If fresh tomatoes are used, peel and slice them; if canned, drain off the liquid. Place a layer of tomato in a baking dish, then a layer of sliced meat, and over the two dredge flour, pepper, and salt; repeat until the dish is nearly full, then put in an extra layer of tomato and cover the whole with a layer of pastry or of bread or cracker crumbs. When the quantity of meat is small, it may be "helped out" by boiled potatoes or other suitable vegetables. A few oysters or mushrooms improve the flavor, especially when beef is used. The pie will need to be baked from half an hour to an hour, according to its size and the heat of the oven. MEAT WITH STARCHY MATERIALS Macaroni cooked with chopped ham, hash made of meat and potatoes or meat and rice, meat croquettes--made of meat and some starchy materials like bread crumbs, cracker dust, or rice--are other familiar examples of meat combined with starchy materials. Pilaf, a dish very common in the Orient and well known in the United States, is of this character and easily made. When there is soup or soup stock on hand it can be well used in the pilaf. TURKISH PILAF 1/2 cup of rice. 3/4 cup of tomatoes stewed and strained. 1 cup stock or broth. 3 tablespoonfuls of butter. Cook the rice and tomatoes with the stock in a double boiler until the rice is tender, removing the cover after the rice is cooked if there is too much liquid. Add the butter and stir it in with a fork to prevent the rice from being broken. A little catsup or Chili sauce with water enough to make three-quarters of a cup may be substituted for the tomatoes. This may be served as a border with meat, or served separately in the place of a vegetable, or may make the main dish at a meal, as it is savory and reasonably nutritious. STEW FROM COLD ROAST This dish provides a good way of using up the remnants of a roast, either of beef or mutton, The meat should be freed from fat, gristle, and bones, cut into small pieces, slightly salted, and put into a kettle with water enough to nearly cover it. It should simmer until almost ready to break in pieces, when onions and raw potatoes, peeled and quartered, should be added. A little soup stock may also be added if available. Cook until the potatoes are done, then thicken the liquor or gravy with flour. The stew may be attractively served on slices of crisp toast. MEAT WITH BEANS Dry beans are very rich in protein, the percentage being fully as large as that in meat. Dry beans and other similar legumes are usually cooked in water, which they absorb, and so are diluted before serving; on the other hand, meats by the ordinary methods of cooking are usually deprived of some of the water originally present--facts which are often overlooked in discussing the matter. Nevertheless, when beans are served with meat the dish is almost as rich in protein as if it consisted entirely of meat. Pork and beans is such a well-known dish that recipes are not needed. Some cooks use a piece of corned mutton or a piece of corned beef in place of salt or corned pork or bacon or use butter or olive oil in preparing this dish. In the Southern States, where cowpeas are a common crop, they are cooked in the same way as dried beans. Cowpeas baked with salt pork or bacon make an excellent dish resembling pork and beans, but of distinctive flavor. Cowpeas boiled with ham or with bacon are also well-known and palatable dishes. HARICOT OF MUTTON 2 tablespoonfuls of chopped onions. 2 tablespoonfuls of butter or drippings. 2 cups of water, and salt and pepper. 1-1/2 pounds of lean mutton or lamb cut into 2-inch pieces. Fry the onions in the butter, add the meat, and brown; cover with water and cook until the meat is tender. Serve with a border of Lima beans, seasoned with salt, pepper, butter, and a little chopped parsley. Fresh, canned, dried, or evaporated Lima beans may be used in making this dish. MEAT SALADS Whether meat salads are economical or not depends upon the way in which the materials are utilized. If in chicken salad, for example, only the white meat of chickens especially bought for the purpose and only the inside stems of expensive celery are used, it can hardly be cheaper than plain chicken. But, if portions of meat left over from a previous serving are mixed with celery grown at home, they certainly make an economical dish, and one very acceptable to most persons. Cold roast pork or tender veal--in fact, any white meat can be utilized in the same way. Apples cut into cubes may be substituted for part of the celery; many cooks consider that with the apple the salad takes the dressing better than with the celery alone. Many also prefer to marinate (i.e., mix with a little oil and vinegar) the meat and celery or celery and apples before putting in the final dressing, which may be either mayonnaise or a good boiled dressing. MEAT WITH EGGS Occasionally eggs are combined with meat, making very nutritious dishes. Whether this is an economy or not of course depends on the comparative cost of eggs and meat. In general, it may be said that eggs are cheaper food than meat when a dozen costs less than 1-1/2 pounds of meat; for a dozen eggs weigh about 1-1/2 pounds and the proportions of protein and fat which they contain are not far different from the proportions of these nutrients in the average cut of meat. When eggs are 30 cents a dozen they compare favorably with a round of beef at 20 cents a pound. Such common dishes as ham and eggs, bacon or salt pork and eggs, and omelette with minced ham or other meat are familiar to all cooks. ROAST BEEF WITH YORKSHIRE PUDDING The beef is roasted as usual and the pudding made as follows: 3 eggs. 1 pint milk. 1 cupful flour. 1 teaspoonful salt. Beat the eggs until very light, then add the milk. Pour the mixture over the flour, add the salt, and beat well. Bake in hissing hot gem pans or in an ordinary baking pan for forty-five minutes, and baste with drippings from the beef. If gem pans are used they should be placed on a dripping pan to protect the floor of the oven from the fat. Many cooks prefer to bake Yorkshire pudding in the pan with the meat; in this case the roast should be placed on a rack and the pudding batter poured on the pan under it. CORNED-BEEF HASH WITH POACHED EGGS A dish popular with many persons is corned-beef hash with poached eggs on top of the hash. A slice of toast is sometimes used under the hash. This suggests a way of utilizing the small amount of corned-beef hash which would otherwise be insufficient for a meal. Housekeepers occasionally use up odd bits of other meat in a similar way, chopping and seasoning them and then warming and serving in individual baking cups with a poached or shirred egg on each. STUFFING Another popular way to extend the flavor of meat over a large amount of food is by the use of stuffing. As it is impossible to introduce much stuffing into some pieces of meat even if the meat is cut to make a pocket for it, it is often well to prepare more than can be put into the meat and to cook the remainder in the pan beside the meat. Some cooks cover the extra stuffing with buttered paper while it is cooking and baste it at intervals. MOCK DUCK Mock duck is made by placing on a round steak a stuffing of bread crumbs well seasoned with chopped onions, butter, chopped suet or dripping, salt, pepper, and a little sage, if the flavor is relished. The steak is then rolled around the stuffing and tied with a string in several places. If the steak seems tough, the roll is steamed or stewed until tender before roasting in the oven until brown. Or it may be cooked in a casserole or other covered dish, in which case a cupful or more of water or soup-stock should be poured around the meat. Mock duck is excellent served with currant or other acid jelly. VEAL OR BEEF BIRDS A popular dish known as veal or beef birds or by a variety of special names is made by taking small pieces of meat, each just large enough for an individual serving, and preparing them in the same way as the mock duck is prepared. Sometimes variety is introduced by seasoning the stuffing with chopped olives or tomato. Many cooks prepare their "birds" by browning in a little fat, then adding a little water, covering closely and simmering until tender. UTILIZING THE CHEAPER CUTS OF MEAT When the housekeeper attempts to reduce her meat bill by using the less expensive cuts, she commonly has two difficulties to contend with--toughness and lack of flavor. It has been shown how prolonged cooking softens the connective tissues of the meat. Pounding the meat and chopping it are also employed with tough cuts, as they help to break the muscle fibers. As for flavor, the natural flavor of meat even in the least desirable cuts may be developed by careful cooking, notably by browning the surface, and other flavors may be given by the addition of vegetables and seasoning with condiments of various kinds. CHAPTER XIV RECIPES FOR MEAT DISHES Prolonged Cooking at Low Heat--Stewed Shin of Beef--Boiled Beef with Horseradish Sauce--Stuffed Heart--Braised Beef, Pot Roast, and Beef a la Mode--Hungarian Goulash--Casserole Cookery--Meat Cooked with Vinegar--Sour Beef--Sour Beefsteak--Pounded Meat--Farmer Stew--Spanish Beefsteak--Chopped Meat--Savory Rolls--Developing Flavor of Meat--Retaining Natural Flavor--Round Steak on Biscuits--Flavor of Browned Meat or Fat--Salt Pork with Milk Gravy--"Salt-Fish Dinner"--Sauces--Mock Venison. PROLONGED COOKING AT LOW HEAT Meat may be cooked in water in a number of ways without being allowed to reach the boiling point. With the ordinary kitchen range this is accomplished by cooking on the cooler part of the stove rather than on the hottest part, directly over the fire. Experience with a gas stove, particularly if it has a small burner known as a "simmerer," usually enables the cook to maintain temperatures which are high enough to sterilize the meat if it has become accidentally contaminated in any way and to make it tender without hardening the fibers. The double boiler would seem to be a neglected utensil for this purpose. Its contents can easily be kept up to a temperature of 200 degrees F., and nothing will burn. Another method is by means of the fireless cooker. In this a high temperature can be maintained for a long time without the application of fresh heat. Still another method is by means of a closely covered baking dish. Earthenware dishes of this kind suitable for serving foods as well as for cooking are known as casseroles. For cooking purposes a baking dish covered with a plate or a bean jar covered with a saucer may be substituted. The Aladdin oven has long been popular for the purpose of preserving temperatures which are near the boiling point and yet do not reach it. It is a thoroughly insulated oven which may be heated either by a kerosene lamp or a gas jet. In this connection directions are given for using some of the toughest and less promising pieces of meat. STEWED SHIN OF BEEF 4 pounds of shin of beef. 1 medium-sized onion. 1 whole clove and a small bay leaf. 1 sprig of parsley. 1-1/2 tablespoonfuls of flour. 1 small slice of carrot. 1/2 tablespoonful of salt. 1/2 teaspoonful of pepper. 2 quarts of boiling water. 1-1/2 tablespoonfuls of butter or savory drippings. Have the butcher cut the bone in several pieces. Put all the ingredients but the flour and butter into a stewpan and bring to a boil. Set the pan where the liquid will just simmer for six hours, or after boiling for five or ten minutes, put all into the fireless cooker for eight or nine hours. With the butter, flour, and one-half cupful of the clear soup from which the fat has been removed, snake a brown sauce (see p. 39); to this add the meat and the marrow removed from the bone. Heat and serve. The remainder of the liquid in which the meat has been cooked may be used for soup. BOILED BEEF WITH HORSERADISH SAUCE Plain boiled beef may also be served with horseradish sauce, and makes a palatable dish. A little chopped parsley sprinkled over the meat when served is considered an improvement by many persons. For the sake of variety the meat may be browned like pot roast before serving. STUFFED HEART Wash the heart thoroughly inside and out, stuff with the following mixture, and sew up the opening: One cup broken bread dipped in fat and browned in the oven, 1 chopped onion, and salt and pepper to taste. Cover the heart with water and simmer until tender or boil ten minutes and set in the fireless cooker for six or eight hours. Remove from the water about one-half hour before serving. Dredge with flour, pepper, and salt, or sprinkle with crumbs and bake until brown. BRAISED BEEF, POT ROAST, AND BEEF A LA MODE The above names are given to dishes made from the less tender cuts of meat They vary little either in composition or method of preparation. In all cases the meat is browned on the outside to increase the flavor and then cooked in a small amount of water in a closely covered kettle or other receptacle until tender. The flavor of the dish is secured by browning the meat and by the addition of the seasoning vegetables. Many recipes suggest that the vegetables be removed before serving and the liquid be thickened. As the vegetables are usually extremely well seasoned by means of the brown fat and the extracts of the meat, it seems unfortunate not to serve them. Of course, the kind, quality, and shape of the meat all play their part in the matter. Extra time is needed for meats with a good deal of sinew and tough fibers, such as the tough steaks, shank cuts, etc.; and naturally a fillet of beef, or a steak from a prime cut, will take less time than a thick piece from the shin. Such dishes require more time and perhaps more skill in their preparation and may involve more expense for fuel than the more costly cuts, which like chops or tender steaks may be quickly cooked, but to the epicure, as well as to the average man, they are palatable when rightly prepared. HUNGARIAN GOULASH 2 pounds top round of beef. A little flour. 2 ounces salt pork. 2 cups tomatoes. 1 stalk celery. 1 onion. 2 bay leaves. 6 whole cloves. 6 peppercorns. 1 blade mace. Cut the beef into 2-inch pieces and sprinkle with flour; fry the salt pork until light brown; add the beef and cook slowly for about thirty-five minutes, stirring occasionally. Cover with water and simmer about two hours; season with salt and pepper or paprika. From the vegetables and spices a sauce is made as follows: Cook in sufficient water to cover for twenty minutes; then rub through a sieve, and add to some of the stock in which the meat was cooked. Thicken with flour, using 2 tablespoonfuls (moistened with cold water) to each cup of liquid, and season with salt and paprika. Serve the meat on a platter with the sauce poured over it. Potatoes, carrots, and green peppers cooked until tender, and cut into small pieces or narrow strips, are usually sprinkled over the dish when served, and noodles may be arranged in a border upon the platter. Goulash is a Hungarian dish which has come to be a favorite in the United States. CASSEROLE COOKERY A casserole is a heavy earthenware dish with a cover. A substitute for it can easily be improvised by using any heavy earthenware dish with a heavy plate for the cover. A casserole presentable enough in appearance to be put on the table serves the double purpose of baking and serving dish. A suitable cut of beef or veal, and it may well be one of the cheaper cuts, as the long, slow cooking insures tenderness, may be cooked in a casserole. Poultry and other meats besides beef or veal can be cooked in this manner. Chicken cooked in a casserole, which is a favorite and expensive dish in good hotels and restaurants, may be easily prepared in the home, and casserole cookery is to be recommended for a tough chicken. The heat must be moderate and the cooking must occupy a long time. Hurried cooking in a casserole is out of the question. If care is taken in this particular, and suitable seasonings are used, few who know anything of cooking should go astray. Chopped meat also may be cooked in a casserole and this utensil is particularly useful for the purpose, because the food is served in the same dish in which it is cooked and may easily be kept hot, a point which is important with chopped meats, which usually cool rapidly. MEAT COOKED WITH VINEGAR Dishes of similar sort as regards cooking, but in which vinegar is used to give flavor as well as to soften the meat and make it tender, are the following: SOUR BEEF Take a piece of beef from the rump or the lower round, cover with vinegar or with a half-and-half mixture of vinegar and water, add sliced onion, bay leaves, and a few mixed whole spices and salt Allow to stand a week in winter or three or four days in summer; turn once a day and keep covered. When ready to cook, brown the meat in fat, using an enameled iron pan, strain the liquid over it and cook until tender; thicken the gravy with flour or ginger snaps (which may be broken up first), strain it, and pour over the sliced meat. Some cooks add cream. SOUR BEEFSTEAK Round steak may be cooked in water in which there is a little vinegar, or if the time is sufficient, it may be soaked for a few hours in vinegar and water and then cooked in a casserole or in some similar way. POUNDED MEAT Pounding meat before cooking is an old-fashioned method of making it tender, but while it has the advantage of breaking down the tough tissues it has the disadvantage of being likely to drive out the juices and with them the flavor. A very good way of escaping this difficulty is pounding flour into the meat; this catches and retains the juices. Below are given the recipes for two palatable dishes in which this is done: FARMER STEW Pound flour into both sides of a round steak, using as much as the meat will take up. This may be done with a meat pounder or with the edge of a heavy plate. Fry in drippings, butter, or other fat, in a Scotch bowl, or if more convenient in an ordinary iron kettle or a frying pan; then add water enough to cover it. Cover the dish very tightly so that the steam cannot escape and allow the meat to simmer for two hours or until it is tender. One advantage of this dish is that ordinarily it is ready to serve when the meat is done as the gravy is already thickened. However, if a large amount of fat is used in the frying, the gravy may not be thick enough and must be blended with flour. SPANISH BEEFSTEAK Take a piece of round steak weighing two pounds and about an inch thick; pound until thin, season with salt and Cayenne pepper, cover with a layer of bacon or salt pork, cut into thin slices, roll and tie with a cord. Pour around it half a cupful of milk and half a cupful of water. Place in a covered baking dish and cook two hours, basting occasionally. CHOPPED MEAT Chopping meat is one of the principal methods of making tough and inexpensive meat tender, i.e., dividing it finely and thus cutting the connective tissue into small bits. Such meats have another advantage in that they may be cooked quickly and economically. Chopped raw meat of almost any kind can be very quickly made into a savory dish by cooking it with water or with water and milk for a short time, then thickening with butter and flour, and adding different seasonings as relished, either pepper and salt alone, or onion juice, celery, or tomato. Such a dish may be made to "go further" by serving it on toast or with a border of rice or in some similar combination. SAVORY ROLLS Savory rolls in great variety are made out of chopped meat either with or without egg. The variety is secured by the flavoring materials used and by the sauces with which the baked rolls are served. A few recipes will be given below. While these definite directions are given it should be remembered that a few general principles borne in mind make recipes unnecessary and make it possible to utilize whatever may happen to be on hand. Appetizing rolls are made with beef and pork mixed. The proportion varies from two parts of beef and one of pork to two of pork and one of beef. The rolls are always improved by laying thin slices of salt pork or bacon over them, which keep the surface moistened with fat during the roasting. These slices should be scored on the edge, so that they will not curl up in cooking. The necessity for the salt pork is greater when the chopped meat is chiefly beef than when it is largely pork or veal. Bread crumbs or bread moistened in water can always be added, as it helps to make the dish go farther. When onions, green peppers, or other vegetables are used, they should always be thoroughly cooked in fat before being put in the roll, for usually they do not cook sufficiently in the length of time it takes to cook the meat. Sausage makes a good addition to the roll, but it is usually cheaper to use unseasoned pork meat with the addition of a little sage. DEVELOPING FLAVOR OF MEAT The typical meat flavors are very palatable to most persons, even when they are constantly tasted, and consequently the better cuts of meat in which they are well developed can be cooked and served without attention being paid especially to flavor. Careful cooking aids in developing the natural flavor of some of the cheaper cuts, and such a result is to be sought wherever it is possible. Browning also brings out flavors agreeable to most palates. Aside from these two ways of increasing the flavor of the meat itself there are countless ways of adding flavor to otherwise rather tasteless meats. The flavors may be added in preparing the meat for cooking, as in various seasoned dishes already described, or they may be supplied to cook meat in the form of sauces. RETAINING NATURAL FLAVOR As has already been pointed out, it is extremely difficult to retain the flavor-giving extractives in a piece of meat so tough as to require prolonged cooking. It is sometimes partially accomplished by first searing the exterior of the meat and thus preventing the escape of the juices. Another device, illustrated by the following recipe, is to let them escape into the gravy which is served with the meat itself. A similar principle is applied when roasts are basted with their own juice. ROUND STEAK ON BISCUITS Cut round steak into pieces about one-half inch square, cover with water and cook it at a temperature just below the boiling point until it is tender, or boil for five minutes, and while still hot put into the fireless cooker and leave it for five hours. Thicken the gravy with flour mixed with water, allowing two level tablespoonfuls to a cup of water. Pour the meat and gravy over split baking-powder biscuits so baked that they have a large amount of crust. FLAVOR OF BROWNED MEAT OR FAT Next to the unchanged flavor of the meat itself comes the flavor which is secured by browning the meat with fat. The outside slices of roast meat have this browned flavor in marked degree. Except in the case of roasts, browning for flavor is usually accomplished by heating the meat in a frying pan in fat which has been tried out of pork or in suet or butter. Care should be taken that the fat is not scorched. The chief reason for the bad opinion in which fried food is held by many is that it almost always means eating burned fat. When fat is heated too high it splits up into fatty acids and glycerin, and from the glycerin is formed a substance (acrolein) which has a very irritating effect upon the mucous membrane. All will recall that the fumes of scorched fat make the eyes water. It is not surprising that such a substance, if taken into the stomach, should cause digestive disturbance. Fat in itself is a very valuable food, and the objection to fried foods because they may be fat seems illogical. If they supply burned fat there is a good reason for suspicion. Many housekeepers cook bacon in the oven on a wire broiler over a pan and believe it more wholesome than fried bacon. The reason, of course, is that thus cooked in the oven there is less chance for the bacon becoming impregnated with burned fat. Where fried salt pork is much used good cooks know that it must not be cooked over a very hot fire, even if they have never heard of the chemistry of burned fat. The recipe for bean-pot roast and other similar recipes may be varied by browning the meat or part of it before covering with water. This results in keeping some of the natural flavoring within the meat itself and allowing less to go into the gravy. The flavor of veal can be very greatly improved in this way. The following old-fashioned dishes made with pork owe their savoriness chiefly to the flavor of browned fat or meat: SALT PORK WITH MILK GRAVY Cut salt or cured pork into thin slices. If very salt, cover with hot water and allow it to stand for ten minutes. Score the rind of the slices and fry slowly until they are a golden brown. Make a milk gravy by heating flour in the fat that has been tried out, allowing two tablespoonfuls of fat and two tablespoonfuls of flour to each cup of milk. This is a good way to use skim milk, which is as rich in protein as whole milk. The pork and milk gravy served with boiled or baked potatoes makes a cheap and simple meal, but one that most people like very much. Bacon is often used in place of salt pork in making this dish. "SALT-FISH DINNER" 1/2 pound salt pork. 1 pound codfish. 2 cups of milk (skim milk will do). 4 tablespoonfuls flour. A speck of salt. Cut the codfish into strips, soak in lukewarm water and then cook in water until tender, but do not allow the water to come to the boiling point except for a very short time as prolonged boiling may make it tough. Cut the pork into one-fourth inch slices and cut several gashes in each piece. Fry very slowly until golden brown, and remove, pouring off the fat. Out of four tablespoonfuls of the fat, the flour, and the milk make a white sauce. Dish up the codfish with pieces of pork around it and serve with boiled potatoes and beets. Some persons serve the pork, and the fat from it, in a gravy boat so it can be added as relished. SAUCES The art of preparing savory gravies and sauces is more important in connection with the serving of the cheaper meats than in connection with the cooking of the more expensive. There are a few general principles underlying the making of all sauces or gravies whether the liquid used is water, milk, stock, tomato juice, or some combination of these. For ordinary gravy 2 level tablespoonfuls of flour or 1-1/2 tablespoonfuls of cornstarch or arrow root is sufficient to thicken a cupful of liquid. This is true excepting when, as in the recipe on page 23 the flour is browned. In this case about one-half tablespoonful more should be allowed, for browned flour does not thicken so well as unbrowned. The fat used may be butter or the drippings from the meat, the allowance being 2 tablespoonfuls to a cup of liquid. The easiest way to mix the ingredients is to heat the fat, add the flour, and cook until the mixture ceases to bubble, and then to add the liquid. This is a quick method and by using it there is little danger of getting a lumpy gravy. Many persons, however, think it is not a wholesome method and prefer the old-fashioned one of thickening the gravy by means of flour mixed with a little cold water. The latter method is, of course, not practicable for brown gravies. The good flavor of browned flour is often overlooked. If flour is cooked in fat until it is a dark brown color a distinctive and very agreeable flavor is obtained. This flavor combines very well with that of currant jelly, and a little jelly added to a brown gravy is a great improvement. The flavor of this should not be combined with that of onions or other highly flavored vegetables. A recipe for a dish which is made with brown sauce follows: MOCK VENISON Cut cold mutton into thin slices and heat in a brown sauce, made according to the following proportions: 2 tablespoonfuls butter. 2 tablespoonfuls flour. 1 tablespoonful of bottled meat sauce (whichever is preferred). 1 tablespoonful red-currant jelly. 1 cupful water or stock. Brown the flour in the butter, add the water or stock slowly, and keep stirring. Then add the jelly and meat sauce and let the mixture boil up well. CHAPTER XV HOUSEHOLD RECIPES. (Arranged Alphabetically) "The woman's work for her own home is to secure its order, comfort, and loveliness."--JOHN RUSKIN--_Sesame and Lilies_. The following recipes are tried and approved ones, useful for housecleaning, laundry work, etc. In a number of instances they give instruction in the making of commodities, such as soap, which are usually purchased in the stores, but which, if made at home will cost less money, and be of better quality. They are arranged alphabetically for ease of reference: ANTS--TO GET RID OF Wash the shelves with salt and water; sprinkle salt in their paths. To keep them out of safes, set the legs of the safe on tin cups; keep the cups filled with water. BARRELS--TO CLEAN The ordinary way of washing a barrel is with boiling water, and when cool examining it with a light inside. If there be any sour or musty smell, however, lime must be used to remove it. Break the lime into lumps, and put it in the cask dry (it will take from 3 to 4 lbs. for each cask), then pour in as many gallons of boiling water as there are pounds of lime, and bung. Roll the cask about now and then, and after a few hours wash it out, steam it, and let it cool. BED-BUGS--TO KILL For bed-bugs nothing is so good as the white of eggs and quicksilver. A thimbleful of quicksilver to the white of each egg; heat until well mixed; apply with a feather. FEATHER-BEDS--TO CLEANSE WITHOUT EMPTYING On a hot, clear summer day, lay the bed upon a scaffold; wash it well with soap-suds upon both sides, rubbing it hard with a stiff brush; pour several gallons of hot water upon the bed slowly, and let it drip through. Rinse with clear water; remove it to a dry part of the scaffold to dry; beat, and turn it two or three times during the day. Sun until perfectly dry. The feathers may be emptied in barrels, washed in soap-suds, and rinsed; then spread in an unoccupied room and dried, or put in bags made of thin sleazy cloth, and kept in the sun until dry. The quality of feathers can be much improved by attention of this kind. CLOTHES--TO BLEACH Dissolve a handful of refined borax in ten gallons of water; boil the clothes in it. To whiten brown cloth, boil in weak lye, and expose day and night to the sun and night air; keep the clothes well sprinkled. BOOKS--TO KEEP MICE FROM Sprinkle a little Cayenne pepper in the cracks at the back of the shelves of the bookcase. BOARDS--TO SCOUR Mix in a saucer three parts of fine sand and one part of lime; dip the scrubbing-brush into this and use it instead of soap. This will remove grease and whiten the boards, while at the same time it will destroy all insects. The boards should be well rinsed with clean water. If they are very greasy, they should be well covered over in places with a coating of fuller's earth moistened with boiling water, which should be left on 24 hours before they are scoured as above directed. In washing boards never rub crosswise, but always with the grain. BOOKS--TO PRESERVE FROM DAMP A few drops of strong perfumed oil, sprinkled in the bookcase will preserve books from damp and mildew. BOOKS--TO CLEAN Books may be cleaned with a little dry bread crumbled up and rubbed gently, but firmly, over with the open hand. Cloth covers may be washed with a sponge dipped in a mixture made from the white of an egg beaten to a stiff froth and afterwards allowed to settle. To clean grease marks from books, dampen the marks with a little benzine, place a piece of blotting-paper on each side of the page, and pass a hot iron over the top. BRASS--TO CLEAN Dissolve 1 oz. of oxalic acid in one pint of soft water. Rub it on the brass with a piece of flannel, and polish with another dry piece. This solution should be kept in a bottle labelled "poison," and the bottle well shaken before it is used, which should be only occasionally, for in a general way the Brass should be cleaned with pulverized rottenstone, mixed into a liquid state with oil of turpentine. Rub this on with a piece of soft leather, leave for a few minutes; then wipe it off with a soft cloth. Brass treated generally with the latter, and occasionally with the former mode of cleaning will look most beautiful. A very good general polish for brass may be made of 1/2 a lb. of rottenstone and 1 oz. of oxalic acid, with as much water as will make it into a stiff paste. Set this paste on a plate in a cool oven to dry, pound it very fine, and apply a little of the powder, moistened with sweet oil, to the brass with a piece of leather, polishing with another leather or an old silk handkerchief. This powder should also be labelled "poison." BRITANNIA METAL--TO CLEAN Articles made of what is usually called Britannia metal may be kept in order by the frequent use of the following composition: 1/2 a lb. of finely-powdered whiting, a wineglass of sweet oil, a tablespoonful of soft soap, and 1/2 an oz. of yellow soap melted in water. Add to these in mixing sufficient spirits--gin or spirits of wine--to make the compound the consistency of cream. This cream should be applied with a sponge or soft flannel, wiped off with soft linen rags, and the article well polished with a leather; or they may be cleaned with only oil and soap in the following manner: Rub the articles with sweet oil on a piece of woolen cloth; then wash well with strong soap-and-water; rub them dry, and polish with a soft leather and whiting. The polish thus given will last for a long time. BRUSHES--TO WASH Dissolve a piece of soda in some hot water, allowing a piece the size of a walnut to a quart of water. Put the water into a basin, and, after combing out the hair from the brushes, dip them, bristles downward, into the water and out again, keeping the backs and handles as free from the water as possible. Repeat this until the bristles look clean; then rinse the brushes in a little cold water; shake them well, and wipe the handles and backs with a towel, but not the bristles, and set the brushes to dry in the sun, or near the fire; but take care not to put them too close to it. Wiping the bristles of a brush makes them soft, as does also the use of soap. CARPETS--TO CLEAN Shake the carpet well; tack it down, and wash it upon the floor; the floor should be very clean; use cold soap suds; to three gallons add half a tumbler of beef-gall; this will prevent the colors from fading. Should there be grease spots, apply a mixture of beef-gall, fuller's-earth, and water enough to form a paste; put this on before tacking the carpet down. Use tacks inserted in small leather caps. Carpets in bedrooms and stair-carpets may be kept clean by being brushed with a soft hairbrush frequently, and, as occasion requires, being taken up and shaken. Larger carpets should be swept carefully with a whisk-brush or hand-brush of hair, which is far better, especially in the case of fine-piled carpets. Thick carpets, as Axminster and Turkey, should always be brushed one way. CARPETS--TO LAY This can hardly be well done without the aid of a proper carpet-fork or stretcher. Work the carpet the length way of the material, which ought to be made up the length way of the room. Nail sides as you go along, until you are quite sure that the carpet is fully stretched, and that there is no fold anywhere in the length of it. STAIR-CARPET--TO CLEAN Make stair-carpet longer than necessary, and change it so that it will not cover the steps in the same way each time of putting down. Moved about in this way, the carpet will last much longer. Clean the rods with oxalic acid. They should be kept bright. CHIMNEY ON FIRE Close all doors and windows tightly, and hold a wet blanket in front of the fire to prevent any draught going up the chimney. CHINA OR GLASS--TO WASH Wash in plenty of hot soap suds; have two vessels, and in one rinse in hot water. Turn upon waiters, and let the articles drip before being wiped. Use linen towels for wiping. CHINA AND GLASS--CEMENT FOR Dissolve 1 oz. of gum-mastic in a quantity of highly-rectified spirits of wine; then soften 1 oz. of isinglass in warm water, and, finally, dissolve it in alcohol, till it forms a thick jelly. Mix the isinglass and gum-mastic together, adding 1/4 of an oz. of finely-powdered gum-ammoniac; put the whole into an earthen vessel and in a warm place, till they are thoroughly incorporated together; pour it into a small bottle, and cork it down for use. In using it, dissolve a small piece of the cement in a silver teaspoon over a lighted candle. The broken pieces of glass or china being warmed, and touched with the now liquid cement, join the parts neatly together, and hold them in their places till the cement has set; then wipe away the cement adhering to the edge of the joint, and leave it for twelve hours without touching it; the joint will be as strong as the china itself, and if neatly done, it will show no joining. It is essential that neither of the pieces be wetted either with hot or cold water. CLOTHES--CARE OF Woolen dresses may be laid out on a table and brushed all over; but in general, even in woolen fabrics, the lightness of the tissues renders brushing unsuitable to dresses, and it is better to remove the dust from the folds by beating them lightly with a handkerchief or thin cloth. Silk dresses should never be brushed, but rubbed with a piece of merino or other soft material, of a similar color to the silk, kept for the purpose. Summer dresses of muslin, and other light materials, simply require shaking; but if the muslin be tumbled, it must be ironed afterwards. If feathers have suffered from damp, they should be held near the fire for a few minutes, and restored to their natural state by the hand or a soft brush, or re-curled with a blunt knife, dipped in very hot water. Furs and feathers not in constant use should be wrapped up in linen washed in lye. From May to September they are subject to being made the depository of moth-eggs. CLOTHES--TO BRUSH Fine clothes require to be brushed lightly, and with a rather soft brush, except where mud is to be removed, when a hard one is necessary; previously beat the clothes lightly to dislodge the dirt. Lay the garment on a table, and brush in the direction of the nap. Having brushed it properly, turn the sleeves back to the collar, so that the folds may come at the elbow-joints; next turn the lapels or sides back over the folded sleeves; then lay the skirts over level with the collar, so that the crease may fall about the center, and double only half over the other, so that the fold comes in the center of the back. CLOTHES--TO REMOVE SPOTS AND STAINS FROM To remove grease-spots from cotton or woolen materials, absorbent pastes, and even common soap, are used, applied to the spot when dry. When the colors are not fast, place a layer of fuller's-earth or pulverized potter's clay over the spot, and press with a very hot iron. For silks, moires and plain or brocaded satins, pour two drops of rectified spirits of wine over the spot, cover with a linen cloth, and press with a hot iron, changing the linen instantly. The spot will look tarnished, for a portion of the grease still remains; this will be removed entirely by a little sulphuric ether, dropped on the spot, and a very little rubbing. If neatly done, no perceptible mark or circle will remain; nor will the lustre of the richest silk be changed, the union of the two liquids operating with no injurious effects from rubbing. Eau-de-Cologne will also remove grease from cloth and silk. Fruit-spots are removed from white and fast-colored cottons by the use of chloride of soda. Commence by cold-soaping the article, then touch the spot with a hair-pencil or feather dipped in the chloride, and dip immediately into cold water, to prevent the texture of the article being injured. Fresh ink-spots are removed by a few drops of hot water being poured on immediately after applying the chloride of soda. By the same process, iron-mould in linen or calico may be removed, dipping immediately in cold water to prevent injury to the fabric. Wax dropped on a shawl, table-cover, or cloth dress, is easily discharged by applying spirits of wine; syrups or preserved fruits, by washing in lukewarm water with a dry cloth, and pressing the spot between two folds of clean linen. CRAPE--TO RENOVATE Place a little water in a tea-kettle and let it boil until there is plenty of steam from the spout; then, holding the crape with both hands, pass it to and fro several times through the steam, and it will be clean and look nearly equal to new. COMBS--TO CLEAN If it can be avoided, never wash combs, as the water often makes the teeth split, and the tortoise-shell or horn of which they are made, rough. Small brushes, manufactured purposely for cleaning combs, may be purchased at a trifling cost; the comb should be well brushed, and afterwards wiped with a cloth or towel. CUPBOARDS, DAMP--TO DRY Leave a quantity of quicklime in the cupboard for a few days, and the moisture will be entirely absorbed. EGGS--TO PACK Put into a butter firkin a thick layer of coarse dry salt, then a layer of eggs, with the small end down, another layer of salt, then eggs, and so on until the firkin is full. Cover and keep in a dry place. These eggs will keep put up in this way almost any length of time. COAL-FIRE--TO LIGHT Clear out all ash from the grate and lay a few cinders or small pieces of coal at the bottom in open order; over this a few pieces of paper, and over that again eight or ten pieces of dry wood; over the wood, a course of moderate-sized pieces of coal, taking care to leave hollow spaces between for air at the center; and taking care to lay the whole well back in the grate, so that the smoke may go up the chimney, and not into the room. This done, fire the paper with a match from below, and, if properly laid, it will soon burn up; the stream of flame from the wood and paper soon communicating to the coal and cinders, provided there is plenty of air at the center. Another method of lighting a fire is sometimes practiced with advantage, the fire lighting from the top and burning down, in place of being lighted and burning up from below. This is arranged by laying the coals at the bottom, mixed with a few good-sized cinders, and the wood at the top, with another layer of coals and some paper over it; the paper is lighted in the usual way, and soon burns down to a good fire, with some economy of fuel, it is said. FEATHERS--TO CLEAN Cover the feathers with a paste made of pipe-clay, and water, rubbing them one way only. When quite dry, shake off all the powder and curl with a knife. FLANNEL--TO WASH Never rub soap upon it; make suds by dissolving the soap in warm water; rinse in warm water. Very cold or hot water will shrink flannel. Shake them out several minutes before hanging to dry. Blankets are washed in the same way. FLEAS--TO DRIVE AWAY Use pennyroyal or walnut leaves. Scatter them profusely in all infested places. FLIES--TO DESTROY A mixture of cream, sugar, and ground black pepper, in equal quantities, placed in saucers in a room infested with flies will destroy them. If a small quantity, say the equivalent of a teaspoonful of carbolic acid be poured on a hot shovel, it will drive the flies from the room. But screens should be used to prevent their entrance. STEEL-FORKS--TO CLEAN Have a small box filled with clean sand; mix with it a third the quantity of soft soap; clean the forks by sticking in the sand and withdrawing them rapidly, repeating the process until they are bright. CUT-FLOWERS--TO PRESERVE A bouquet of freshly-cut flowers may be preserved alive for a long time by placing them in a glass or vase with fresh water, in which a little charcoal has been steeped, or a small piece of camphor dissolved. The vase should be set upon a plate or dish, and covered with a bell glass, around the edges of which, when it comes in contact with the plate, a little water should be poured to exclude the air. To revive cut flowers, plunge the stems into boiling water, and by the time the water is cold, the flowers will have revived. Then cut the ends of the stems afresh, and place in fresh cold water. FRUIT STAINS--TO REMOVE Pour hot water on the spots; wet with ammonia or oxalic acid--a teaspoonful to a teacup of water. FRUIT-TREES--TO PREVENT DEPREDATIONS OF To preserve apple and other fruit trees from the depredations of rabbits, etc., and the ravages of insects, apply soft soap to the trunk and branches in March and September. FURNITURE GLOSS--GERMAN Cut 1/4 of a lb. of yellow wax into small pieces and melt it in an earthen vessel, with 1 oz. of black rosin, pounded very fine. Stir in gradually, while these two ingredients are quite warm, 2 ozs. of oil of turpentine. Keep this composition well covered for use in a tin or earthen pot. A little of this gloss should be spread on a piece of coarse woolen cloth, and the furniture well rubbed with it; afterward it should be polished with a fine cloth. FURNITURE POLISH One pint of linseed oil, one wineglass of alcohol. Mix well together. Apply to the furniture with a fine rag. Rub dry with a soft cotton cloth, and polish with a silk cloth. Furniture is improved by washing it occasionally with soap-suds. Wipe dry, and rub over with very little linseed oil upon a clean sponge or flannel. Wipe polished furniture with silk. Separate dusting-cloths and brushes should be kept for highly polished furniture. When sweeping carpets and dusting walls always cover the furniture until the particles of dust floating in the air settle, then remove the covers, and wipe with a silk or soft cotton cloth. FURNITURE STAINS--TO REMOVE Rub stains on furniture with cold-drawn linseed oil; then rub with alcohol. Remove ink stains with oxalic acid and water; wash off with milk. A hot iron held over stains upon furniture will sometimes remove them. FURS--TO CLEAN Moisten some bran with hot water; rub the fur with it, and dry with a flannel. Then rub with a piece of muslin and some dry bran. GAS--TO DETECT A LEAK Never take a light into the room or look for the leak with a light. Soap and water mixed, and applied with a brush to the pipe will commence to bubble if there is a leak. Send for the plumber at once. GLASS--TO WASH Great care is required in washing glasses. Two perfectly clean bowls are necessary--one for moderately hot and another for cold water. Wash the glasses well in the first, rinse them in the second, and turn them down on a linen cloth folded two or three times, to drain for a few minutes. When sufficiently drained, wipe with a cloth and polish with a finer one, doing so tenderly and carefully. Decanters and water-jugs require very tender treatment in cleaning. Fill about two-thirds with hot but not boiling water, and put in a few pieces of well-soaked brown paper; leave them thus for two or three hours; then shake the water up and down in the decanters; empty this out, rinse them well with clean, cold water, and put them in a rack to drain. When dry, polish them outside and inside, as far as possible, with a fine cloth. Fine shot or pieces of charcoal placed in a decanter with warm water and shaken for some time, will also remove stains. When this is not effective, fill the bottle with finely chopped potato skins. Cork tight, and let the bottle stand for three days. Empty and rinse thoroughly. GLASS STOPPER--TO REMOVE Wrap a hot cloth around the neck of the bottle, thus expanding it, or, if this is not effective, pour a little salad oil round the stopper, and place the bottle near the fire, then tap the stopper with a wooden instrument. The heat will cause the oil to work round the stopper, and it should be easily removed. GREASE--TO REMOVE FROM A STONE HEARTH Lay plenty of hot ashes; wash off (after the grease is out) with strong soap suds. HARNESS BLACKING--FOR PRESERVING THE LEATHER Melt four ounces of mutton suet with twelve ounces of beeswax; add twelve ounces of sugar-candy, four ounces of soft soap dissolved in water, and two ounces of indigo, finely powdered. When melted and well mixed, add one-half pint of turpentine. Lay the blacking on the harness with a sponge, and polish off with a brush. FELT-HATS--TO RENOVATE Mix equal quantities of benzine and water, and after well brushing the hat, apply the mixture with a sponge. HERBS--TO DRY The right way in drying herbs for your kitchen and possible medicinal use is to gather them as soon as they begin to open their flowers, and to lay them on some netting in a dry shed or room where the air will get at them on all sides. Be sure they are dry and not moist when you cut or pick them, and free them from dirt and decayed leaves. After they are entirely dried out, put them in paper bags upon which you have written the name of the herb and the date of tying it up. Hang them where the air is dry and there is no chance of their moulding. SAVORY HERBS--TO POWDER Strip the leaves from the stalks, pound, sift out the coarse pieces, put the powder in bottles, and cork tight. Label with exactness every bottle. If, for the convenience of instant use in gravies, soups, etc., you wish different herbs mixed, pound the leaves together when you make them into powders. Celery seed, dried lemon-peel, and other spicy things can thus be combined and ready for the moment's call. ICE VAULT--TO MAKE Dig a pit eight or ten feet square, and as deep in the cellar. Lay a double wall with brick; fill between with pulverized charcoal; cover the bottom also double with the same or tan-bark. If the pit is filled with ice, or nearly so, cover six inches with tan-bark; but if only a small quantity is in it, wrap well in a blanket, and over the opening in the pit lay a double bag of charcoal. INK--TO REMOVE FROM LINEN Scald in hot tallow. Let it cool; then wash in warm suds. Sometimes these stains can be removed by wetting the place in very sour buttermilk or lemon juice; rub salt over, and bleach in the sun. INSECTS--TO KEEP AWAY The common elder is a great safeguard against the devastations of insects. Scatter it around cucumber and squash-vines. Place it on the branches of plum and other fruit-trees subject to the ravages of insects. IRONS--TO REMOVE RUST FROM Scour with dry salt and beeswax. JAPANNED WARE--TO CLEAN Japanned tea-trays should not be washed in hot water if greasy, a little flour rubbed on with a bit of soft linen will give them a new look; if there are scratches, rub over a little olive oil. JEWELRY--TO CLEAN Jewels are generally wrapped up in cotton wool and kept in their cases; but they tarnish from exposure to the air and require cleaning. This is done by preparing clean soap-suds from fine toilet-soap. Dip any article of gold, silver, gilt or precious stones into this lye, and dry by brushing with a brush of soft hair, or a fine sponge; afterwards polish with a piece of fine cloth, and lastly, with a soft leather. Gold or silver ornaments, and in general all articles of jewelry, may be dressed by dipping them in spirits of wine warmed in a shallow kettle, placed over a slow fire or hot plate. Silver ornaments should be kept in fine arrowroot, and completely covered with it. KNIVES--TO CLEAN Cover a small heavy table on block by tacking over it very tight soft leather or buckskin; pour over half the leather melted suet. Spread over this very fine pulverized bath brick; rub the knives (making rapid strokes) over this. Polish on the other side. Keep steel wrapped in buckskin. Knives should be cleaned every day they are used, and kept sharp. The handles of knives should never be immersed in water, as, after a time, if treated in this way, the blades will loosen and the handles discolor. The blades should be put in a jug or vessel kept for the purpose, filled with hot soda water. This should be done as soon after the knives are used as possible, as stain and rust quickly sink into steel. KNIVES--TO KEEP Knives not in use will soon spoil. They are best kept in a box in which sifted quicklime has been placed, deep enough to admit of the blades being completely plunged into it. The lime must not touch the handles, which should be occasionally exposed to the air, to keep them from turning yellow. BLACK LACE--TO REVIVE Make some black tea, about the strength usual for drinking, and strain it off the leaves. Pour enough tea into a basin to cover the material, then squeeze the lace several times, but do not rub it. Dip it frequently into the tea, which will at length assume a dirty appearance. Have ready some weak gum-water and press the lace gently through it; then clap it for a quarter of an hour; after which, pin it to a towel in any shape which you wish it to take. When nearly dry, cover it with another towel and iron it with a cool iron. The lace, if previously sound and discolored only, will, after this process, look as good as new. LAMPS--TO TRIM In trimming lamps, let the wick be cut evenly all round; as, if left higher in one place than it is in another, it will cause it to smoke and burn badly. The lamp should then be filled with oil from a feeder and afterward well wiped with a cloth or rag. Small sticks, covered with wash-leather pads, are the best things to use for cleaning the inside of the chimney, and a clean duster for polishing the outside. Chimneys should not be washed. The globe of a lamp should be occasionally washed in warm soap-and-water, then well rinsed in cold water, and either wiped dry or left to drain. LEATHER--TO CLEAN For fawn or yellow-colored leather, take a quart of skimmed milk, pour into it one ounce of sulphuric acid, and, when cold, add four ounces of hydrochloric acid, shaking the bottle gently until it ceases to emit white vapors; separate the coagulated from the liquid part, by straining through a sieve, and store it away till required. Clean the leather with a weak solution of oxalic acid, washing it off immediately, and when dry apply the composition with a sponge. TABLE LINEN--CARE OF Table-cloths, towels and napkins should be kept faultlessly white; table-cloths and napkins starched; if the latter are fringed, whip the fringe until straight. After using a table-cloth, lay it in the same folds; put it in a close place where dust will not reach it, and lay a heavy weight upon it. Napkins may be used the second time, if they are so marked that each person gets the napkin previously used. LINEN--TO GLAZE The gloss, or enamel, as it is sometimes called, is produced mainly by friction with a warm iron, and may be put on linen by almost any person. The linen to be glazed receives as much strong starch as it is possible to charge it with, then it is dried. To each pound of starch a piece of sperm or white wax, about the size of a walnut, is usually added. When ready to be ironed, the linen is laid upon the table and moistened very lightly on the surface with a clean wet cloth. It is then ironed in the usual way with a flatiron, and is ready for the glossing operation. For this purpose a peculiar heavy flatiron, rounded at the bottom, as bright as a mirror, is used. It is pressed firmly upon the linen and rubbed with much force, and this frictional action puts on the gloss. "Elbow grease" is the principal secret connected with the art of glossing linen. MACKINTOSH--TO REPAIR Shred finely some pure india-rubber, and dissolve it in naphtha to the consistency of a stiff paste. Apply the cement to each side of the part to be joined, and leave a cold iron upon it until dry. LINEN--TO REMOVE IRON MOULD FROM Oxalic acid and hot water will remove iron-mould; so also will common sorrel, bruised in a mortar and rubbed on the spots. In both cases the linen should be well washed after the remedy has been applied, either in clear water or a strong solution of cream of tartar and water. Repeat if necessary, and dry in the sun. MAHOGANY--TO TAKE OUT MARKS FROM The whitest stain, left on a mahogany table by a jug of boiling water, or a very hot dish, may be removed by rubbing in oil, and afterward pouring a little spirits of wine on the spot and rubbing with a soft cloth. MARBLE--TO CLEAN Wash with soda, water, and beef-gall. Or mix together one part blue-stone, three parts whiting, one part soda, and three parts soft soap; boil together ten minutes; stir constantly. Spread this over the marble; let it lie half an hour; wash it off with soap-suds; wipe dry with flannel. Repeat if necessary. Stains that cannot be removed in any other way may be tried with oxalic acid water; but this should be used carefully, and not allowed to remain long at a time. MATTING--TO WASH Use salt in the water, and wipe dry. MILDEW--TO REMOVE When the clothes are washed and ready to boil, pin jimson weed leaves upon the place. Put a handful of the leaves on the bottom of the kettle; lay the stained part next to them. Green tomatoes and salt, sour buttermilk, lemon juice, soap and chalk, are all good; expose to the sun. Another way: Two ounces of chloride of lime; pour on it a quarter of boiling water; add three quarts of cold water. Steep the cloth in it twelve hours. MIRRORS--TO CLEAN Remove, with a damp sponge, fly stains and other soils (the sponge may be clamped with water or spirits of wine). After this dust the surface with the finest sifted whiting or powder-blue, and polish it with a silk handkerchief or soft cloth. Snuff of candle, if quite free from grease, is an excellent polish for the looking-glass. MOTHS--TO PREVENT THEM GETTING INTO CARPETS, ETC. Strew camphor under a carpet; pack with woolen goods. If moths are in a carpet, lay over it a cotton or linen cloth, and iron with a hot iron. Oil all cracks in storerooms, closets, safes, with turpentine, or a mixture of alcohol and corrosive sublimate; this drives off vermin. Place pieces of camphor, cedar-wood, Russia leather, tobacco-leaves, boy-myrtle, or anything else strongly aromatic, in the drawers or boxes where furs or other things to be preserved from moths are kept, and they will never take harm. OIL-CLOTH OR LINOLEUM--TO WASH Take equal parts of skimmed milk and water; wipe dry; never use soap. Varnish oil-cloths once a year. After being varnished, they should be perfectly dry before being used. PAINT--TO CLEAN Dirty paint should never be wiped with a cloth, but the dust should be loosened with a pair of bellows, and then removed with a dusting-brush. If very dirty, wash the paint lightly with a sponge or soft flannel dipped in weak soda-and-water, or in pearl-ash and water. The sponge or flannel must be used nearly dry, and the portion of paint gone over must immediately be rinsed with a flannel and clean water; both soda and pearl-ash, if suffered to remain on, will injure the paint. The operation of washing should, therefore, be done as quickly as possible, and two persons should be employed; one to follow and dry the paint with soft rags, as soon as the other has scoured off the dirt and washed away the soda. No scrubbing-brush should ever be used on paint. PAINT--TO DISPERSE THE SMELL OF Place some sulphuric acid in a basin of water and let it stand in the room where the paint is. Change the water daily. PAINT--TO REMOVE FROM CLOTHING Rub immediately with a rough rag wetted with turpentine. OIL PAINTINGS--TO CLEAN Rub a freshly cut slice of potato damped in cold water over the picture. Wipe off the lather with a soft, damp sponge, and then finish with luke-warm water, and dry, and polish with a piece of soft silk that has been washed. PAPER HANGING--TO MAKE PASTE FOR Mix flour and water to the consistency of cream, and boil. A few cloves added in the boiling will prevent the paste going sour. PEARS--TO KEEP FOR WINTER USE Lay the pears on a shelf in a dry, cool place. Set them stems up and so far apart that they do not touch one another. Allow the air to move freely in the room in which they lie. Layers of paper or of straw make a soft bed, but the less the pear touches the shelf or resting-place the better for its keeping. PICTURE FRAMES--TO KEEP FLIES FROM Brush them over with water in which onions have been boiled. GILT PICTURE FRAMES--TO BRIGHTEN Take sufficient sulphur to give a golden tinge to about one and one-half pints of water, and in this boil four or five bruised onions. Strain off the liquid when cold, and with it wash with a soft brush any gilding which requires restoring, and when dry it will come out as bright as new work. Frames may also be brightened in the following manner: Beat up the white of eggs with soda, in the proportion of three ounces of eggs to one ounce of soda. Blow off as much dust as possible from the frames, and paint them over with a soft brush dipped in the mixture. They will immediately come out fresh and bright. RATS--TO DESTROY Set traps and put a few drops of rhodium inside; they are fond of it. Cats are, however, the most reliable rat-traps. There is no difficulty in poisoning rats, but they often die in the walls, and create a dreadful odor, hard to get rid of. When poisoning is attempted, remove or cover all water vessels, even the well or cistern. RIBBONS--TO WASH If there are grease spots, rub the yolk of an egg upon them, on the wrong side; let it dry. Lay it upon a clean cloth, and wash upon each side with a sponge; press on the wrong side. If very much soiled, wash in bran-water; add to the water in which it is rinsed a little muriate of tin to set red, oil of vitriol for green, blue, maroon, and bright yellow. RUST--TO PRESERVE FROM Make a strong paste of fresh lime and water, and with a fine brush smear it as thickly as possible over all the polished surface requiring preservation. By this simple means, all the grates and fire-irons in an empty house may be kept for months free from harm, without further care or attention. RUST--TO REMOVE FROM POLISHED STEEL Rub the spots with soft animal fat; lay the articles by; wrap in thick paper two days; clean off the grease with flannel; rub the spots well with fine rotten-stone and sweet oil; polish with powdered emery and soft leather, or with magnesia or fine chalk. RUST--TO REMOVE FROM IRON UTENSILS Rub sweet oil upon them. Let it remain two days; cover with finely-powdered lime; rub this off with leather in a few hours. Repeat if necessary. To prevent their rusting when not in use: Mix half a pound of lime with a quart of warm water; add sweet oil until it looks like cream. Rub the article with this; when dry, wrap in paper or put over another coat. See also IRONS. RUST AND INK STAINS--TO REMOVE Put half an ounce of oxalic acid in a pint of water. Dip the stain in the water, and apply the acid as often as necessary. Wash very soon, in half an hour at least, or the cloth will be injured by the acid. Preserve in bottle marked "Poison." This also cleans brass beautifully. RUSTED SCREWS--TO LOOSEN [Transcriber's Note: Above title is as-presented in the original.] Boil scorched articles in milk and turpentine, half a pound of soap, half a gallon of milk. Lay in the sun. RUSTED SCREWS--TO LOOSEN Pour a small quantity of paraffin round the top of the screw. When sufficient time has been allowed for the oil to sink in, the screw can be easily removed. SEALING-WAX FOR BOTTLES, JARS, ETC. Three-fourths rosin, one-fourth beeswax; melt. Or use half a pound of rosin, the same quantity of red sealing-wax, and a half an ounce of beeswax; melt, and as it froths up, stir it with a tallow candle. Use new corks; trim (after driving them in securely) even with the bottle, and dip the necks in this cement. SHIRTS--TO IRON Use for ironing shirts a bosom-board, made of seasoned wood a foot wide, one and a half long, and an inch thick; cover it well by tacking over very tight two or three folds of flannel, according to the thickness of the flannel. Cover it lastly with Canton flannel; this must be drawn over very tight, and tacked well to prevent folds when in use. Make slips of fine white cotton cloth; put a clean one on every week. A shirt-board must be made in the same way for ironing dresses; five feet long, tapering from two feet at one end to a foot and a half at the other, the large end should be round. A clean slip should be upon it whenever used. A similar but smaller board should be kept for ironing gentlemen's summer pants. Keep fluting and crimping irons, a small iron for ruffles, and a polishing-iron. RUSSET SHOES--TO POLISH Remove stains with lemon juice, and polish with beeswax dissolved in turpentine. SHOES--TO PREVENT FROM CRACKING Saturate a piece of flannel in boiled linseed oil and rub it well over the soles and round the edges of the shoes, then stand them, soles upward, to dry. SILK--TO RENOVATE Sponge faded silks with warm water and soap; then rub them with a dry cloth on a flat board; afterward iron them on the inside with a smoothing-iron. Old black silks may be improved by sponging with spirits. In this case, the ironing may be done on the right side, thin paper being spread over to prevent glazing. SILK AND SATIN--TO CLEAN Pin the breadths on a soft blanket; then take some stale breadcrumbs, and mix with them a little powder-blue. Rub this thoroughly and carefully over the whole surface with the hand or a piece of clean linen; shake it off and wipe with soft cloths. Satin may be brushed the way of the nap with a clean, soft, hair-brush. SILK--TO TAKE STAINS FROM Mix two ounces of essence of lemon and one ounce of turpentine. Grease and other spots in silks are to be rubbed gently with a linen rag dipped in this mixture. SILKS--TO WASH For a dress to be washed, the seams of a skirt do not require to be ripped apart, though it must be removed from the band at the waist, and the lining taken from the bottom. Trimmings or drapings, where there are deep folds, the bottom of which is very difficult to reach, should be undone, so as to remain flat. A black silk dress, without being previously washed, may be refreshed by being soaked during twenty-four hours in soft, clear water, clearness in the water being indispensable. If dirty the black dress may be previously washed. When very old and rusty, a pint of alcohol should be mixed with each gallon of water. This addition is an improvement under any circumstances, whether the silk be previously washed or not. After soaking, the dress should be hung up to drain dry without being wrung. The mode of washing silks is this: The article should be laid upon a clean, smooth table. A flannel just wetted with lukewarm water should be well soaped, and the surface of the silk rubbed one way with it, care being taken that this rubbing is quite even. When the dirt has disappeared, the soap must be washed off with a sponge and plenty of cold water, of which the sponge must be made to imbibe as much as possible. As soon as one side is finished, the other must be washed precisely in the same manner. Let it be understood that not more of either surface must be done at a time than can be spread perfectly flat upon the table, and the hand can conveniently reach; likewise the soap must be quite sponged off one portion before the soaped flannel is applied to another portion. Silks, when washed, should always be dried in the shade, on a linen horse, and alone. If black or dark blue, they will be improved if they are placed on a table when dry, and well sponged with alcohol. SILVER--TO POLISH Boil soft rags for five minutes (nothing is better for the purpose than the tops of old cotton stockings) in a mixture of new milk and ammonia. As soon as they are taken out, wring them for a moment in cold water, and dry before the fire. With these rags rub the silver briskly as soon as it has been well washed and dried after daily use. A most beautiful deep polish will be produced, and the silver will require nothing more than merely to be dusted with a leather or a dry, soft cloth before it is again put on the table. SILVER--TO CLEAN Wash in hot soap suds (use the silver soap if convenient); then clean with a paste of whiting and water, or whiting and alcohol. Polish with buckskin. If silver was always washed in hot suds, rinsed well, and wiped dry, it would seldom need anything else. SILVER--TO REMOVE STAINS FROM Steep the silver in lye four hours; then cover thick with whiting wet with vinegar; let this dry; rub with dry whiting; and polish with dry wheat bran. Egg-stains may be removed from silver by rubbing with table salt. SOAK CLOTHES FOR WASHING--TO Take a gallon of water, one pound of sal soda, and one pound of soap; boil one hour, then add one tablespoonful of spirits of turpentine. Put the clothes to soak over night; next morning soap them well with the mixture. Boil well one hour; rinse in three waters; add a little bluing to the last water. SOFT SOAP--TO MAKE The ashes should be of hardwood (hickory is best), and kept dry. When put in the hopper, mix a bushel of unslacked lime with ten bushels of ashes; put in a layer of ashes; then one slight sprinkling of lime; wet each layer with water (rain water is best). A layer of straw should be put upon the bottom of the hopper before the ashes are put in. An opening in the side or bottom for the lye to drip through, and a trough or vessel under to receive the lye. When the lye is strong enough to bear up an egg, so as to show the size of a dime above the surface, it is ready for making soap; until it is, pour it back into the hopper, and let it drip through again. Add water to the ashes in such quantities as may be needed. Have the vessel very clean in which the soap is to be made. Rub the pot over with corn meal after washing it, and if it is at all discolored, rub it over with more until the vessel is perfectly clean. Melt three pounds of clean grease; add to it a gallon of weak lye, a piece of alum the size of a walnut. Let this stew until well mixed. If strong lye is put to the grease, at first it will not mix well with the grease. In an hour add three gallons of strong hot lye; boil briskly, and stir frequently; stir one way. After it has boiled several hours, cool a spoonful upon a plate; if it does not jelly, add a little water; if this causes it to jelly, then add water to the kettle. Stir quickly while the water is poured in until it ropes on the stick. As to the quantity of water required to make it jelly, judgment must be used; the quantity will depend upon circumstances. It will be well to take some in a bowl, and notice what proportion of water is used to produce this effect. To harden it: Add a quart of salt to this quantity of soap; let it boil quick ten minutes; let it cool. Next day cut it out. This is now ready for washing purposes. BROWN TAR SOAP--TO MAKE Take eight gallons of soft soap, two quarts of salt, and one pound of rosin, pulverized; mix, and boil half an hour. Turn it in a tub to cool. SOAP-POTASH--TO MAKE Six pounds of potash, five pounds of grease, and a quarter of a pound of powdered rosin; mix all well in a pot, and, when warm, pour on ten gallons of boiling water. Boil until thick enough. SOAP FOR CLEANING SILVER, ETC.--TO MAKE One bar of turpentine soap, three table-spoonfuls of spirits of turpentine, half a tumbler of water. Let it boil ten minutes. Add six tablespoonfuls of ammonia. Make a suds of this, and wash silver with it. SPERMACETI--TO REMOVE Scrape it off; put brown paper on the spot and press with hot iron. ACID STAINS--TO REMOVE Apply ammonia to neutralize the acid; after which apply chloroform. This will remove paints from garments when benzine has failed. STARCH--TO PREPARE Wet two tablespoonfuls of starch to a smooth paste with cold water; pour to it a pint of boiling water; put it on the fire; let it boil, stirring frequently until it looks transparent; this will probably require half an hour. Add a piece of spermaceti as large as half a nutmeg, or as much salt, or loaf sugar--this will prevent the starch from sticking to the iron. STARCH--COLD-WATER Mix the starch to a smooth cream with cold water, then add borax dissolved in boiling water in the proportion of a dessertspoonful to a teacupful of starch. MUSLINS--TO STARCH Add to the starch for fine muslins a little white gum Arabic. Keep a bottle of it ready for use. Dissolve two ounces in a pint of hot water; bottle it; use as may be required, adding it to the starch. Muslins, calicoes, etc., should never be stiffer than when new. Rice-water and isinglass stiffen very thin muslins better than starch. TAR AND PITCH--TO REMOVE Grease the place with lard or sweet oil. Let it remain a day and night; then wash in suds. If silk or worsted, rub the stain with alcohol. Paraffin will remove tar from the hands. UMBRELLAS--CARE OF An umbrella should not be folded up when it is wet. Let it stand with handle downwards, so that the wet can run off the ends of the ribs, instead of running towards the ferrule and rusting that part of the umbrella. VELVET--TO RENEW Hold the velvet, pile downwards, over boiling water, in which ammonia is dissolved, double the velvet (pile inwards) and fold it lightly together. WALL-PAPER--TO CLEAN Tie cotton upon a long stick; brush the walls well with this. When soiled, turn it, or rub the walls with stale loaf bread. Split the loaf, and turn the soft part to the wall. WHITEWASH--TO MAKE Put half a bushel of unslacked lime in a barrel; cover it with hot water; stir occasionally, and keep the vessel well covered. When slacked, strain into another barrel through a sieve. Put a pound of glue in a glue-pot; melt it over a slow fire until dissolved. Soak the glue in cold water before putting the pot over the fire. Dissolve a peck of salt in boiling water. Make a thin paste of three pounds of ground rice boiled half an hour. Stir to this half a pound of Spanish whiting. Now add the rice paste to the lime; stir it in well; then the glue; mix well; cover the barrel, and let it stand twenty-four hours. When ready to use, it should be put on hot. It makes a durable wash for outside walls, planks, etc., and may be colored. Spanish brown will make it red or pink, according to the quantity used. A delicate tinge of this is very pretty for inside walls. Lampblack in small quantities will make slate color. Finely pulverized clay mixed with Spanish brown, makes lilac. Yellow chrome or yellow ochre makes yellow. Green must not be used; lime destroys the color, and makes the whitewash peel. WINDOWS--TO WASH Wash well with soap suds; rinse with warm water; rub dry with linen; and finish by polishing with soft dry paper. A fine polish is given to window-glass by brushing it over with a paste of whiting. Let it dry; rub off with paper or cloth, and with a clean, dry brush, remove every particle of the whiting from the corners. Once a year will be altogether sufficient for this. 
6598	----	AMERICAN WOMAN'S HOME: OR, PRINCIPLES OF DOMESTIC SCIENCE; BEING A GUIDE TO THE FORMATION AND MAINTENANCE OF ECONOMICAL, HEALTHFUL, BEAUTIFUL, AND CHRISTIAN HOMES. BY CATHERINE E. BEECHER AND HARRIET BEECHER STOWE TO THE WOMEN OF AMERICA, IN WHOSE HANDS REST THE REAL DESTINIES OF THE REPUBLIC, AS MOULDED BY THE EARLY TRAINING AND PRESERVED AMID THE MATURER INFLUENCES OF HOME, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. TABLE OF CONTENTS. _INTRODUCTION._ The chief cause of woman's disabilities and sufferings, that women are not trained, as men are, for their peculiar duties--Aim of this volume to elevate the honor and remuneration of domestic employment--Woman's duties, and her utter lack of training for them--Qualifications of the writers of this volume to teach the matters proposed--Experience and study of woman's work--Conviction of the dignity and importance of it--The great social and moral power in her keeping--The principles and teachings of Jesus Christ the true basis of woman's rights and duties. I. _THE CHRISTIAN FAMILY._ Object of the Family State--Duty of the elder and stronger to raise the younger, weaker, and more ignorant to an equality of advantages--Discipline of the family--The example of Christ one of self-sacrifice as man's elder brother--His assumption of a low estate--His manual labor--His trade--Woman the chief minister of the family estate--Man the out-door laborer and provider--Labor and self-denial in the mutual relations of home-life, honorable, healthful, economical, enjoyable, and Christian. II. _A CHRISTIAN HOUSE._ True wisdom in building a home--Necessity of economizing time, labor, and expense, by the close packing of conveniences--Plan of a model cottage--Proportions--Piazzas--Entry--Stairs and landings--Large room--Movable Screen--Convenient bedsteads--A good mattress--A cheap and convenient ottoman--Kitchen and stove-room--The stove-room and its arrangements--Second or attic story--Closets, corner dressing-tables, windows, balconies, water and earth-closets, shoe-bag, piece-bag--Basement, closets, refrigerator, washtubs, etc.--Laundry--General wood-work--Conservatories-Average estimate of cost. III. _A HEALTHFUL HOME._ Household murder--Poisoning and starvation the inevitable result of bad air in public halls and private homes--Good air as needful as good food--Structure and operations of the lungs and their capillaries and air-cells--How people in a confined room will deprive the air of oxygen and overload it with refuse carbonic acid-Starvation of the living body deprived of oxygen--The skin and its twenty-eight miles of perspiratory tubes--Reciprocal action of plants and animals--Historical examples of foul-air poisoning--Outward effects of habitual breathing of bad air--Quotations from scientific authorities. IV. _SCIENTIFIC DOMESTIC VENTILATION._ An open fireplace secures due ventilation--Evils of substituting air-tight stoves and furnace heating--Tendency of warm air to rise and of cool air to sink--Ventilation of mines--Ignorance of architects--Poor ventilation in most houses--Mode of ventilating laboratories--Creation of a current of warm air in a flue open at top and bottom of the room--Flue to be built into chimney: method of utilizing it. V. STOVES, FURNACES, AND CHIMNEYS. The general properties of heat, conduction, convection, radiation, reflection--Cooking done by radiation the simplest but most wasteful mode: by convection (as in stoves and furnaces) the cheapest--The range--The model cooking-stove--Interior arrangements and principles--Contrivances for economizing heat, labor, time, fuel, trouble, and expense--Its durability, simplicity, etc.--Chimneys: why they smoke and how to cure them--Furnaces: the dryness of their heat--Necessity of moisture in warm air--How to obtain and regulate it. VI. _HOME DECORATION._ Significance of beauty in making home attractive and useful in education--Exemplification of economical and tasteful furniture--The carpet, lounge, lambrequins, curtains, ottomans, easy-chair, centre-table--Money left for pictures--Chromes--Pretty frames-- Engravings--Statuettes--Educatory influence of works of art--Natural adornments--Materials in the woods and fields--Parlor-gardens--Hanging baskets--Fern-shields--Ivy, its beauty and tractableness--Window, with flowers, vines, and pretty plants--Rustic stand for flowers--Ward's case--How to make it economically--Bowls and vases of rustic work for growing plants--Ferns, how and when to gather them--General remarks. VII. _THE CARE OF HEALTH._ Importance of some knowledge of the body and its needs--Fearful responsibility of entering upon domestic duties in ignorance--The fundamental vital principle--Cell-life--Wonders of the microscope --Cell-multiplication--Constant interplay of decay and growth necessary to life--The red and white cells of the blood--Secreting and converting power--The nervous system--The brain and the nerves--Structural arrangement and functions--The ganglionic system--The nervous fluid--Necessity of properly apportioned exercise to nerves of sensation and of motion--Evils of excessive or insufficient exercise--Equal development of the whole. VIII. _DOMESTIC EXERCISE._ Connection of muscles and nerves--Microscopic cellular muscular fibre--Its mode of action--Dependence on the nerves of voluntary and involuntary motion--How exercise of muscles quickens circulation of the blood which maintains all the processes of life--Dependence of equilibrium upon proper muscular activity--Importance of securing exercise that will interest the mind. IX. _HEALTHFUL FOOD._ Apportionment of elements in food: carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus, calcium, iron, silicon, etc.--Large proportion of water in the human body--Dr. Holmes on the interchange of death and life--Constituent parts of a kernel of wheat--Comparison of different kinds of food--General directions for diet--Hunger the proper guide and guard of appetite--Evils of over-eating--Structure and operations of the stomach--Times and quantity for eating--Stimulating and nourishing food--Americans eat too much meat--Wholesome effects of Lenten fasting--Matter and manner of eating--Causes of debilitation from misuse of food. X. _HEALTHFUL DRINKS._ Stimulating drinks not necessary--Their immediate evil effects upon the human body and tendency to grow into habitual desires--The arguments for and against stimulus--Microscopic revelations of the effects of alcohol on the cellular tissue of the brain--Opinions of high scientific authorities against its use--No need of resorting to stimulants either for refreshment, nourishment, or pleasure--Tea and coffee an extensive cause of much nervous debility and suffering--Tend to wasteful use in the kitchen--Are seldom agreeable at first to children--Are dangerous to sensitive, nervous organizations, and should be at least regulated--Hot drinks unwholesome, debilitating, and destructive to teeth, throat, and stomach--Warm drinks agreeable and not unhealthful--Cold drinks not to be too freely used during meals--Drinking while eating always injurious to digestion. XI. _CLEANLINESS._ Health and comfort depend on cleanliness--Scientific treatment of the skin, the most complicated organ of the body--Structure and arrangement of the skin, its layers, cells, nerves, capillaries, absorbents, oil-tubes, perspiration-tubes, etc.--The mucous membrane--Phlegm--The secreting organs--The liver, kidney, pancreas, salivary and lachrymal glands--Sympathetic connection of all the bodily organs--Intimate connection of the skin with all the other organs--Proper mode of treating the skin--Experiment showing happy effects of good treatment. XII. _CLOTHING._ Fashion attacks the very foundation of the body, the bones--Bones composed of animal and mineral elements--General construction and arrangement--Health of bones dependent on nourishment and exercise of body--Spine--Distortions produced by tight dressing--Pressure of interior organs upon each other and upon the bones--Displacement of stomach, diaphragm, heart, intestines, and pelvic or lower organs--Women liable to peculiar distresses--A well-fitted jacket to replace stiff corsets, supporting the bust above and the under skirts below--Dressing of young children--Safe for a healthy child to wear as little clothing as will make it thoroughly comfortable--Nature the guide--The very young and the very old need the most clothing. XIII. _GOOD COOKING._ Bad cooking prevalent in America-Abundance of excellent material-- General management of food here very wasteful and extravagant--Five great departments of Cookery--_Bread_-What it should be, how to spoil and how to make it--Different modes of aeration--Baking--Evils of hot bread.--_Butter_-Contrast between the butter of America and of European countries-How to make good butter.--_Meat_-Generally used too newly killed--Lack of nicety in butcher's work--Economy of French butchery, curving, and trimming--Modes of cooking meats--The frying-pan--True way of using it--The French art of making delicious soups and stews--_Vegetables_--Their number and variety in America--The potato--How to cook it, a simple yet difficult operation--Roasted, boiled, fried.--_Tea_--Warm table drinks generally--Coffee--Tea-- Chocolate.--_Confectionery_--Ornamental cookery--Pastry, ices, jellies. XIV. _EARLY RISING._ A virtue peculiarly American and democratic--In aristocratic countries, labor considered degrading--The hours of sunlight generally devoted to labor by the working classes and to sleep by the indolent and wealthy--Sunlight necessary to health and growth whether of vegetables or animals--Particularly needful for the sick--Substitution of artificial light and heat, by night, a great waste of money--Eight hours' sleep enough--Excessive sleep debilitating--Early rising necessary to a well-regulated family, to the amount of work to be done, to the community, to schools, and to all classes in American society. XV. _DOMESTIC MANNERS._ Good manners the expression of benevolence in personal intercourse--Serious defects in manners of the Americans-Causes of abrupt manners to be found in American life--Want of clear discrimination between men--Necessity for distinctions of superiority: and subordination--Importance that young mothers should seriously endeavor to remedy this defect, while educating their children--Democratic principal of equal rights to be applied, not to our own interests but to those of others--The same courtesy to be extended to all classes--Necessary distinctions arising from mutual relations to be observed--The strong to defer to the weak--Precedence yielded by men to women in America--Good manners must be cultivated in early life--Mutual relations of husband and wife--Parents and children--The rearing of children to courtesy--De Tocqueville on American manners. XVI. _GOOD TEMPER IN THE HOUSEKEEPER._ Easier for a household under the guidance of an equable temper in the mistress---Dissatisfied looks and sharp tones destroy the comfort of system, neatness, and economy--Considerations to aid the housekeeper--Importance and dignity of her duties--Difficulties to be overcome--Good policy to calculate beforehand upon the derangement of well-arranged plans--Object of housekeeping, the comfort and well-being of the family--The end should not be sacrificed to secure the means--Possible to refrain from angry tones--Mild speech most effective--Exemplification--Allowances to be made for servants and children--Power of religion to impart dignity and importance to the ordinary and petty details of domestic life. XVII. _HABITS OF SYSTEM AND ORDER._ Relative importance and difficulty of the duties a woman is called to perform--Her duties not trivial--A habit of system and order necessary--Right apportionment of time--General principles-- Christianity to be the foundation--Intellectual and social interests to be preferred to gratification of taste or appetite--Neglect of health a sin in the sight of God--Regular season of rest appointed by the Creator--Divisions of time--Systematic arrangement of house articles and other conveniences--Regular employment for each member of a family--Children--Family work--Forming habits of system--Early rising a very great aid--Due apportionment of time to the several duties. XVIII. _GIVING IN CHARITY._ No point of duty more difficult to fix by rule than charity--First consideration--Object for which we are placed in this world--Self- denying Benevolence.--Second consideration--Natural principles not to be exterminated, but regulated and controlled.--Third consideration--Superfluities sometimes proper, and sometimes not--Fourth consideration--No rule of duty right for one and not for all--The opposite of this principle tested--Some use of superfluities necessary--Plan for keeping an account of necessities and superfluities--Untoward results of our actions do not always prove that we deserve blame--General principles to guide in deciding upon objects of charity--Who are our neighbors--The most in need to be first relieved--Not much need of charity for physical wants in this country--Associated charities--Indiscriminate charity--Impropriety of judging the charities of others. XIX. _ECONOMY OF TIME AND EXPENSES_ Economy, value, and right apportionment of time--Laws appointed by God for the Jews--Christianity removes the restrictions laid on the Jews, but demands all our time to be devoted to our own best interests and the good of our fellow-men--Enjoyment connected with every duty--Various modes of economizing time--System and order--Uniting several objects in one employment--Odd intervals of time--Aiding others in economizing time--Economy in expenses--Contradictory notions--General principles in which all agree--Knowledge of income and expenses--Evils of want of system and forethought--Young ladies should early learn to be systematic and economical. XX. _HEALTH OF MIND._ Intimate connection between the body and mind--Brain excited by improper stimulants taken into the stomach--Mental faculties then affected--Causes of mental disease--Want of oxygenized blood--Fresh air absolutely necessary--Excessive exercise of the intellect or feelings--Such attention to religion as prevents the performance of other duties, wrong--Unusual precocity in children usually the result of a diseased brain--Idiocy often the result, or the precocious child sinks below the average of mankind--This evil yet prevalent in colleges and other seminaries--A medical man necessary in every seminary--Some pupils always needing restraint in regard to study--A third cause of mental disease, the want of appropriate exercise of the various faculties of the mind--Extract from Dr. Combe--Beneficial results of active intellectual employments--Indications of a diseased mind. XXI. _THE CARE OF INFANTS._ Herbert Spencer on the treatment of offspring--Absurdity of undertaking to rear children without any knowledge of how to do it--Foolish management of parents generally the cause of evils ascribed to Providence--Errors of management during the first two years--Food of child and of mother--Warning as to use of too much medicine--Fresh air-- Care of the skin--Dress--Sleep--Bathing--Change of air--Habits--Dangers of the teething period--Constipation--Diarrhea--Teething--How to relieve its dangers--Feverishness--Use of water. XXII. _THE MANAGEMENT OF YOUNG CHILDREN._ Physical education of children--Animal diet to be avoided for the very young--Result of treatment at Albany Orphan Asylum--Good ventilation of nurseries and schools--Moral training to consist in forming _habits_ of submission, self-denial, and benevolence-General suggestions--Extremes of sternness and laxity to be avoided--Appreciation of childish desires and feelings--Sympathy--Partaking in games and employments--Inculcation of principles preferable to multiplication of commands--Rewards rather than penalties--Severe tones of voice--Children to be kept happy--Sensitive children--Self-denial--Deceit and honesty--Immodesty and delicacy--Dreadful penalties consequent upon youthful impurities--Religious training. XXIII. _DOMESTIC AMUSEMENTS AND SOCIAL DUTIES._ Children need more amusement than older persons--Its object, to afford rest and recreation to the mind and body--Example of Christ--No amusements to be introduced that will tempt the weak or over-excite the young--Puritan customs--Work followed by play--Dramatic exercises, dancing, and festivity wholesomely enjoyed--The nine o'clock bell--The drama and the dance--Card-playing--Novel-reading--Taste for solid reading--Cultivation of fruits and flowers--Music--Collecting of shells, plants, and minerals--Games--Exercise of mechanical skill for boys--Sewing, cutting, and fitting--General suggestions--Social and domestic duties--Family attachments--Hospitality. XXIV. _CARE OF THE AGED._ Preservation of the aged, designed to give opportunity for self-denial and loving care--Patience, sympathy, and labor for them to be regarded as privileges in a family--The young should respect and minister unto the aged--Treating them as valued members of the family--Engaging them in domestic Games and sports--Reading aloud-Courteous attention to their opinions--Assistance in retarding decay of faculties by helping them to exercise--Keeping up interest of the infirm in domestic affairs--Great care to preserve animal heat--Ingratitude to the aged, its baseness--Chinese regard for old age. XXV. _THE CARE OF SERVANTS._ Origin of the Yankee term "help"--Days of good health and intelligent house-keeping--Growth of wealth tends to multiply hired service-- American young women should be trained in housekeeping for the guidance of ignorant and shiftless servants--Difficulty of teaching servants--Reaction of society in favor of women's intellectuality, in danger of causing a new reaction--American girls should do more work--Social estimate of domestic service--Dearth of intelligent domestic help--Proper mode of treating servants--General rules and special suggestions--Hints from experience--Woman's first "right," liberty to do what she can--Domestic duties not to be neglected for operations in other spheres--Servants to be treated with respect--Errors of heartless and of too indulgent employers--Mistresses of American families necessarily missionaries and instructors. XXVI. _CARE Of THE SICK._ Prominence given to care and cure of the sick by our Saviour--Every woman should know what to do in the case of illness--Simple remedies best--Fasting and perspiration--Evils of constipation--Modes of relieving it--Remedies for colds--Unwise to tempt the appetite of the sick--Suggestion for the sick-room--Ventilation--Needful articles--The room, bed, and person of the patient to be kept neat--Care to preserve animal warmth--The sick, the delicate, the aged--Food always to be carefully prepared and neatly served--Little modes of refreshment-- Implicit obedience to the physician--Care in purchasing medicines-- Exhibition of cheerfulness, gentleness, and sympathy--Knowledge and experience of mind--Lack of competent nurses--Failings of nurses-- Sensitiveness of the sick--"Sisters of Charity," the reason why they are such excellent nurses--Illness in the family a providential opportunity of training children to love and usefulness. XXVII. _ACCIDENTS AND ANTIDOTES._ Mode of treating cuts, wounds, severed arteries--Bad bruises to be bathed In hot water--Sprains treated with hot fomentation and rest--Burns cured by creosote, wood-soot, or flour--Drowning; most approved mode of treatment--Poisons and their antidotes--Soda, saleratus, potash, sulphuric or oxalic acid, lime or baryta, iodine or iodide of potassium, prussic acid, antimony, arsenic, lead, nitrate of silver, phosphorus, alcohol, tobacco, opium, strychnia--Bleeding at the lungs, stomach, throat, nose--Accidents from lightning-- Stupefaction, from coal-gas or foul air--Fire--Fainting--Coolness and presence of mind. XXVIII. _SEWING, CUTTING, AND MENDING._ Different kinds of Stitch--Overstitch--Hems--Tucks--Fells--Gores-- Buttonholes--Whipping--Gathering--Darning--Basting--Sewing--Work- baskets--To make a frock--Patterns--Fitting--Lining--Thin Silks-- Fitted and plain silks--Plaids--Stripes--Linen and Cotton--How to buy--Shirts--Chemises--Night-gowns--Under-skirts--Mending--Silk dresses--Broadcloth--Hose--Shoes, etc.--Bedding--Mattresses-- Sheeting--Bed-linen. XXIX. _FIRES AND LIGHTS._ Wood fires--Shallow fireplaces--Utensils--The best wood for fires --How to measure a load--Splitting and piling--Ashes--Cleaning up-- Stoves and grates--Ventilation--Moisture--Stove-pipe thimbles-- Anthracite coal--Bituminous coal--Care to be used in erecting stoves and pipes--Lights--Poor economy to use bad light--Gas--Oil--Kerosene-- Points to be considered: Steadiness, Color, Heat--Argand burners-- Dangers of kerosene--Tests of its safety and light-giving qualities-- Care of lamps--Utensils needed--Shades--Night-lamps--How to make candles--Moulded--Dipped--Rush-lights. XXX. _THE CARE OF ROOMS._ Parlors--Cleansing--Furniture--Pictures--Hearths and jambs--Stains in marble--Carpets--Chambers and bedrooms--Ventilation--How to make a bed properly--Servants should have single beds and comfortable rooms--Kitchens--Light--Air--Cleanliness--How to make a cheap oil-cloth--The sink--Washing dishes--Kitchen furniture--Crockery-- Ironware--Tinware--Basketware--Other articles--Closets--Cellars--Dryness and cleanliness imperative necessities--Store-rooms--Modes of destroying insects and vermin. XXXI. _THE CARE OF YARDS AND GARDENS._ Preparation of soil for pot-plants--For hot-beds--For planting flower seeds--For garden seeds--Transplanting--To re-pot house plants--The laying out of yards and gardens--Transplanting trees--The care of house plants. XXXII. _THE PROPAGATION OF PLANTS._ Propagation of bulbous roots--Propagation of plants by shoots--By layers-Budding and grafting--The outer and inner bark--Detailed description of operations--Seed-fruit--Stone-fruit--Rose hushes-- Ingrafting--Stock grafting--Pruning--Perpendicular shoots to be taken out, horizontal or curved shoots retained--All fruit-buds coming out after midsummer to be rubbed off--Suckers--Pruning to be done after sap is in circulation.--Thinning--Leaves to be removed when they shade fruit near maturity--Fruit to be removed when too abundant for good quality--How to judge. XXXIII. _THE CULTIVATION OF FRUIT._ A pleasant, easy, and profitable occupation--Soil for a nursery-- Planting of seeds--Transplanting--Pruning--Filberts--Figs--Currants-- Gooseberries--Raspberries--Strawberries--Grapes--Modes of preserving fruit trees--The yellows--Moths--Caterpillars--Brulure-Curculio--Canker- worm. XXXIV. _THE CARE OF DOMESTIC ANIMALS._ Interesting association of animals with man, from childhood to age--Domestic animals apt to catch the spirit of their masters-- Important necessities--Good feeding--Shelter--Cleanliness--Destruction of parasitic vermin--Salt and water--Light--Exercise--Rule for breeding--Care of Horses: feeding, grooming, special treatment--Cows: stabling, feed, calving, milking, tethering--Swine: naturally cleanly, breeding, fresh water, charcoal, feeding--Sheep: winter treatment--Diet --Sorting--Use of sheep in clearing land-Pasture--Hedges and fences--Poultry--Turkeys--Geese--Ducks--Fowls--Dairy work generally--Bees--Care of domestic animals, occupation for women. XXXV. _EARTH-CLOSETS._ Deodorization and preservation of excrementitious matter--The earth-closet--Waring's pamphlet--The agricultural argument--Necessity of returning to the soil the elements taken from it--Earth-closet based on power of clay and inorganic matter to absorb and retain odors and fertilizing matter--Its construction--Mode of use--The ordinary privy--The commode or portable house-privy--Especial directions: things to be observed--Repeated use of earth--Other advantages--Sick-rooms--House-labor--Cleanliness--Economy. XXXVI. _WARMING AND VENTILATION._ Open fireplace nearest to natural mode by which earth is warmed and ventilated--Origin of diseases--Necessity of pure air to life --Statistics--General principles of ventilation--Mode of Lewis Leeds--Ventilation of buildings planned in this work--The pure-air conductor--The foul-air exhausting-flue--Stoves--Detailed arrangements--Warming--Economy of time, labor, and expense in the cottage plan--After all schemes, the open fireplace the best. XXXVII. _CARE OF THE HOMELESS, THE HELPLESS, AND THE VICIOUS._ Recommendations of the Massachusetts Board of State Charities--Pauper and criminal classes should be scattered in Christian homes instead of gathered into large institutions--Facts recently published concerning the poor of New-York--Sufferings of the poor, deterioration of the rich--Christian principles of benevolence--Plan for a Christian city house--Suggestions to wealthy and unoccupied women--Roman Catholic works--Protestant duties--The highest mission of woman. XXXVIII. _THE CHRISTIAN NEIGHBORHOOD._ Spirit of Christian Missions--Present organizations under church direction too mechanical--Christian family influence the true instrument of Gospel propagation--Practical suggestions for gathering a Christian family in neglected neighborhoods--Plan of church, school-house, and family-dwelling in one building--Mode of use for various purposes--Nucleus and gathering of a family--Christian work for Christian women--Children--Orphans--Servants--Neglected ones--Household training--Roman Catholic Nuns--The South--The West--The neglected interior of older States--Power of such examples--Rapid spread of their influence--Anticipation of the glorious consummation to be hoped for--Prophecy in the Scriptures--Cowper's noble vision of the millennial glory. APPEAL TO AMERICAN WOMEN. GLOSSARY OF WORDS AND REFERENCES INTRODUCTION. The authors of this volume, while they sympathize with every honest effort to relieve the disabilities and sufferings of their sex, are confident that the chief cause of these evils is the fact that the honor and duties of the family state are not duly appreciated, that women are not trained for these duties as men are trained for their trades and professions, and that, as the consequence, family labor is poorly done, poorly paid, and regarded as menial and disgraceful. To be the nurse of young children, a cook, or a housemaid, is regarded as the lowest and last resort of poverty, and one which no woman of culture and position can assume without loss of caste and respectability. It is the aim of this volume to elevate both the honor and the remuneration of all the employments that sustain the many difficult and sacred duties of the family state, and thus to render each department of woman's true profession as much desired and respected as are the most honored professions of men. When the other sex are to be instructed in law, medicine, or divinity, they are favored with numerous institutions richly endowed, with teachers of the highest talents and acquirements, with extensive libraries, and abundant and costly apparatus. With such advantages they devote nearly ten of the best years of life to preparing themselves for their profession; and to secure the public from unqualified members of these professions, none can enter them until examined by a competent body, who certify to their due preparation for their duties. Woman's profession embraces the care and nursing of the body in the critical periods of infancy and sickness, the training of the human mind in the most impressible period of childhood, the instruction and control of servants, and most of the government and economies of the family state. These duties of woman are as sacred and important as any ordained to man; and yet no such advantages for preparation have been accorded to her, nor is there any qualified body to certify the public that a woman is duly prepared to give proper instruction in her profession. This unfortunate want, and also the questions frequently asked concerning the domestic qualifications of both the authors of this work, who have formerly written upon such topics, make it needful to give some account of the advantages they have enjoyed in preparation for the important office assumed as teachers of woman's domestic duties. The sister whose name is subscribed is the eldest of nine children by her own mother, and of four by her step-mother; and having a natural love for children, she found it a pleasure as well as a duty to aid in the care of infancy and childhood. At sixteen, she was deprived of a mother, who was remarkable not only for intelligence and culture, but for a natural taste and skill in domestic handicraft. Her place was awhile filled by an aunt remarkable for her habits of neatness and order, and especially for her economy. She was, in the course of time, replaced by a stepmother, who had been accustomed to a superior style of housekeeping, and was an expert in all departments of domestic administration. Under these successive housekeepers, the writer learned not only to perform in the most approved manner all the manual employments of domestic life, but to honor and enjoy these duties. At twenty-three, she commenced the institution which ever since has flourished as "The Hartford Female Seminary," where, at the age of twelve, the sister now united with her in the authorship of this work became her pupil, and, after a few years, her associate. The removal of the family to the West, and failure of health, ended a connection with the Hartford Seminary, and originated a similar one in Cincinnati, of which the younger authoress of this work was associate principal till her marriage. At this time, the work on _Domestic Economy_, of which this volume may be called an enlarged edition, although a great portion of it is entirely new, embodying the latest results of science, was prepared by the writer as a part of the _Massachusetts School Library_, and has since been extensively introduced as a text-book into public schools and higher female seminaries. It was followed by its sequel, _The Domestic Receipt-Book_, widely circulated by the Harpers in every State of the Union. These two works have been entirely remodeled, former topics rewritten, and many new ones introduced, so as to include all that is properly embraced in a complete Encyclopedia of Domestic Economy. In addition to the opportunities mentioned, the elder sister, for many years, has been studying the causes and the remedies for the decay of constitution and loss of health so increasingly prevalent among American women, aiming to promote the establishment of _endowed_ institutions, in which women shall be properly trained for their profession, as both housekeepers and health-keepers. What advantages have thus been received and the results thus obtained will appear in succeeding pages. During the upward progress of the age, and the advance of a more enlightened Christianity, the writers of this volume have gained more elevated views of the true mission of woman--of the dignity and importance of her distinctive duties, and of the true happiness which will be the reward of a right appreciation of this mission, and a proper performance of these duties. There is at the present time an increasing agitation of the public mind, evolving many theories and some crude speculations as to woman's rights and duties. That there is a great social and moral power in her keeping, which is now seeking expression by organization, is manifest, and that resulting plans and efforts will involve some mistakes, some collisions, and some failures, all must expect. But to intelligent, reflecting, and benevolent women--whose faith rests on the character and teachings of Jesus Christ--there are great principles revealed by Him, which in the end will secure the grand result which He taught and suffered to achieve. It is hoped that in the following pages these principles will be so exhibited and illustrated as to aid in securing those rights and advantages which Christ's religion aims to provide for all, and especially for the most weak and defenseless of His children. CATHARINE E. BEECHER. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. THE CHRISTIAN FAMILY. It is the aim of this volume to elevate both the honor and the remuneration of all employments that sustain the many difficult and varied duties of the family state, and thus to render each department of woman's profession as much desired and respected as are the most honored professions of men. What, then, is the end designed by the family state which Jesus Christ came into this world to secure? It is to provide for the training of our race to the highest possible intelligence, virtue, and happiness, by means of the self-sacrificing labors of the wise and good, and this with chief reference to a future immortal existence. The distinctive feature of the family is self-sacrificing labor of the stronger and wiser members to raise the weaker and more ignorant to equal advantages. The father undergoes toil and self-denial to provide a home, and then the mother becomes a self-sacrificing laborer to train its inmates. The useless, troublesome infant is served in the humblest offices; while both parents unite in training it to an equality with themselves in every advantage. Soon the older children become helpers to raise the younger to a level with their own. When any are sick, those who are well become self-sacrificing ministers. When the parents are old and useless, the children become their self-sacrificing servants. Thus the discipline of the family state is one of daily self-devotion of the stronger and wiser to elevate and support the weaker members. Nothing could be more contrary to its first principles than for the older and more capable children to combine to secure to themselves the highest advantages, enforcing the drudgeries on the younger, at the sacrifice of their equal culture. Jesus Christ came to teach the fatherhood of God and consequent brotherhood of man. He came as the "first-born Son" of God and the Elder Brother of man, to teach by example the self-sacrifice by which the great family of man is to be raised to equality of advantages as children of God. For this end, he "humbled himself" from the highest to the lowest place. He chose for his birthplace the most despised village; for his parents the lowest in rank; for his trade, to labor with his hands as a carpenter, being "subject to his parents" thirty years. And, what is very significant, his trade was that which prepares the family home, as if he would teach that the great duty of man is labor--to provide for and train weak and ignorant creatures. Jesus Christ worked with his hands nearly thirty years, and preached less than three. And he taught that his kingdom is exactly opposite to that of the world, where all are striving for the highest positions. "Whoso will be great shall be your minister, and whoso will be chiefest shall be servant of all." The family state then, is the aptest earthly illustration of the heavenly kingdom, and in it woman is its chief minister. Her great mission is self-denial, in training its members to self-sacrificing labors for the ignorant and weak: if not her own children, then the neglected children of her Father in heaven. She is to rear all under her care to lay up treasures, not on earth, but in heaven. All the pleasures of this life end here; but those who train immortal minds are to reap the fruit of their labor through eternal ages. To man is appointed the out-door labor--to till the earth, dig the mines, toil in the foundries, traverse the ocean, transport merchandise, labor in manufactories, construct houses, conduct civil, municipal, and state affairs, and all the heavy work, which, most of the day, excludes him from the comforts of a home. But the great stimulus to all these toils, implanted in the heart of every true man, is the desire for a home of his own, and the hopes of paternity. Every man who truly lives for immortality responds to the beatitude, "Children are a heritage from the Lord: blessed is the man that hath his quiver full of them!" The more a father and mother live under the influence of that "immortality which Christ hath brought to light," the more is the blessedness of rearing a family understood and appreciated. Every child trained aright is to dwell forever in exalted bliss with those that gave it life and trained it for heaven. The blessed privileges of the family state are not confined to those who rear children of their own. Any woman who can earn a livelihood, as every woman should be trained to do, can take a properly qualified female associate, and institute a family of her own, receiving to its heavenly influences the orphan, the sick, the homeless, and the sinful, and by motherly devotion train them to follow the self-denying example of Christ, in educating his earthly children for true happiness in this life and for his eternal home. And such is the blessedness of aiding to sustain a truly Christian home, that no one comes so near the pattern of the All-perfect One as those who might hold what men call a higher place, and yet humble themselves to the lowest in order to aid in training the young, "not as men-pleasers, but as servants to Christ, with good-will doing service as to the Lord, and not to men." Such are preparing for high places in the kingdom of heaven. "Whosoever will be chiefest among you, let him be your servant." It is often the case that the true humility of Christ is not understood. It was not in having a low opinion of his own character and claims, but it was in taking a low place in order to raise others to a higher. The worldling seeks to raise himself and family to an equality with others, or, if possible, a superiority to them. The true follower of Christ comes down in order to elevate others. The maxims and institutions of this world have ever been antagonistic to the teachings and example of Jesus Christ. Men toil for wealth, honor, and power, not as means for raising others to an equality with themselves, but mainly for earthly, selfish advantages. Although the experience of this life shows that children brought up to labor have the fairest chance for a virtuous and prosperous life, and for hope of future eternal blessedness, yet it is the aim of most parents who can do so, to lay up wealth that their children need not labor with the hands as Christ did. And although exhorted by our Lord not to lay up treasure on earth, but rather the imperishable riches which are gained in toiling to train the ignorant and reform the sinful, as yet a large portion of the professed followers of Christ, like his first disciples, are "slow of heart to believe." Not less have the sacred ministries of the family state been undervalued and warred upon in other directions; for example, the Romish Church has made celibacy a prime virtue, and given its highest honors to those who forsake the family state as ordained by God. Thus came great communities of monks and nuns, shut out from the love and labors of a Christian home; thus, also, came the monkish systems of education, collecting the young in great establishments away from the watch and care of parents, and the healthful and self-sacrificing labors of a home. Thus both religion and education have conspired to degrade the family state. Still more have civil laws and social customs been opposed to the principles of Jesus Christ. It has ever been assumed that the learned, the rich, and the powerful are not to labor with the hands, as Christ did, and as Paul did when he would "not eat any man's bread for naught, but wrought with labor, not because we have not power "[to live without hand-work,]" but to make ourselves an example."(2 Thess. 3.) Instead of this, manual labor has been made dishonorable and unrefined by being forced on the ignorant and poor. Especially has the most important of all hand-labor, that which sustains the family, been thus disgraced; so that to nurse young children, and provide the food of a family by labor, is deemed the lowest of all positions in honor and profit, and the last resort of poverty. And so our Lord, who himself took the form of a servant, teaches, "How hardly shall they that have riches enter the kingdom of heaven!"--that kingdom in which all are toiling to raise the weak, ignorant, and sinful to such equality with themselves as the children of a loving family enjoy. One mode in which riches have led to antagonism with the true end of the family state is in the style of living, by which the hand-labor, most important to health, comfort, and beauty, is confined to the most ignorant and neglected members of society, without any effort being made to raise them to equal advantages with the wise and cultivated. And, the higher civilization has advanced, the more have children been trained to feel that to labor, as did Christ and Paul, is disgraceful, and to be made the portion of a degraded class. Children, of the rich grow up with the feeling that servants are to work for them, and they themselves are not to work. To the minds of most children and servants, "to be a lady," is almost synonymous with "to be waited on, and do no work," It is the earnest desire of the authors of this volume to make plain the falsity of this growing popular feeling, and to show how much happier and more efficient family life will become when it is strengthened, sustained, and adorned by family work. II. A CHRISTIAN HOUSE. In the Divine Word it is written, "The wise woman buildeth her house." To be "wise," is "to choose the best means for accomplishing the best end." It has been shown that the best end for a woman to seek is the training of God's children for their eternal home, by guiding them to intelligence, virtue, and true happiness. When, therefore, the wise woman seeks a home in which to exercise this ministry, she will aim to secure a house so planned that it will provide in the best manner for health, industry, and economy, those cardinal requisites of domestic enjoyment and success. To aid in this, is the object of the following drawings and descriptions, which will illustrate a style of living more conformed to the great design for which the family is instituted than that which ordinarily prevails among those classes which take the lead in forming the customs of society. The aim will be to exhibit modes of economizing labor, time, and expenses, so as to secure health, thrift, and domestic happiness to persons of limited means, in a measure rarely attained even by those who possess wealth. At the head of this chapter is a sketch of what may be properly called a Christian house; that is, a house contrived for the express purpose of enabling every member of a family to labor with the hands for the common good, and by modes at once healthful, economical, and tasteful. Of course, much of the instruction conveyed in the following pages is chiefly applicable to the wants and habits of those living either in the country or in such suburban vicinities as give space of ground for healthful outdoor occupation in the family service, although the general principles of house-building and house-keeping are of necessity universal in their application--as true in the busy confines of the city as in the freer and purer quietude of the country. So far as circumstances can be made to yield the opportunity, it will be assumed that the family state demands some outdoor labor for all. The cultivation of flowers to ornament the table and house, of fruits and vegetables for food, of silk and cotton for clothing, and the care of horse, cow, and dairy, can be so divided that each and all of the family, some part of the day, can take exercise in the pure air, under the magnetic and healthful rays of the sun. Every head of a family should seek a soil and climate which will afford such opportunities. Railroads, enabling men toiling in cities to rear families in the country, are on this account a special blessing. So, also, is the opening of the South to free labor, where, in the pure and mild climate of the uplands, open-air labor can proceed most of the year, and women and children labor out of doors as well as within. In the following drawings are presented modes of economizing time, labor, and expense by the close packing of conveniences. By such methods, small and economical houses can be made to secure most of the comforts and many of the refinements of large and expensive ones. The cottage at the head of this chapter is projected on a plan which can be adapted to a warm or cold climate with little change. By adding another story, it would serve a large family. [Illustration: Fig. 1.] Fig. 1 shows the ground-plan of the first floor. On the inside it is forty-three feet long and twenty-five wide, excluding conservatories and front and back projections. Its inside height from floor to ceiling is ten feet. The piazzas each side of the front projection have sliding-windows to the floor, and can, by glazed sashes, be made green-houses in winter. In a warm climate, piazzas can be made at the back side also. In the description and arrangement, the leading aim is to show how time, labor, and expense are saved, not only in the building but in furniture and its arrangement. With this aim, the ground-floor and its furniture will first be shown, then the second story and its furniture, and then the basement and its conveniences. The conservatories are appendages not necessary to housekeeping, but useful in many ways pointed out more at large in other chapters. [Illustration: Fig. 2] The entry has arched recesses behind the front doors, (Fig. 2,) furnished with hooks for over-clothes in both--a box for over-shoes in one, and a stand for umbrellas in the other. The roof of the recess is for statuettes, busts, or flowers. The stairs turn twice with broad steps, making a recess at the lower landing, whore a table is set with a vase of flowers, (Fig. 3.) On one side of the recess is a closet, arched to correspond with the arch over the stairs. A bracket over the first broad stair, with flowers or statuettes, is visible from the entrance, and pictures can be hung as in the illustration. The large room on the left can be made to serve the purpose of several rooms by means of a _movable screen_. By shifting this rolling screen from one part of the room to another, two apartments are always available, of any desired size within the limits of the large room. One side of the screen fronts what may be used as the parlor or sitting-room; the other side is arranged for bedroom conveniences. Of this, Fig. 4 shows the front side;--covered first with strong canvas, stretched and nailed on. Over this is pasted panel-paper, and the upper part is made to resemble an ornamental cornice by fresco-paper. Pictures can be hung in the panels, or be pasted on and varnished with white varnish. To prevent the absorption of the varnish, a wash of gum isinglass (fish-glue) must be applied twice. [Illustration: Fig. 4. CLOSET, RECESS, STAIR LANDING.] [Illustration: Fig 5.] Fig. 5 shows the back or inside of the movable screen toward the part of the room used as the bedroom. On one side, and at the top and bottom, it has shelves with _shelf-boxes_, which are cheaper and better than drawers, and much preferred by those using them. Handles are cut in the front and back side, as seen in Fig. 6. Half an inch space must be between the box and the shelf over it, and as much each side, so that it can be taken out and put in easily. The central part of the screen's interior is a wardrobe. [Image: Panel screens] This screen must be so high as nearly to reach the ceiling, in order to prevent it from overturning. It is to fill the width of the room, except two feet on each side. A projecting cleat or strip, reaching nearly to the top of the screen, three inches wide, is to be screwed to the front sides, on which light frame doors are to be hung, covered with canvas and panel-paper like the front of the screen. The inside of these doors is furnished with hooks for clothing, for which the projection makes room. The whole screen is to be eighteen inches deep at the top and two feet deep at the base, giving a solid foundation. It is moved on four wooden rollers, one foot long and four inches in diameter. The pivots of the rollers and the parts where there is friction must be rubbed with hard soap, and then a child can move the whole easily. A curtain is to be hung across the whole interior of the screen by rings, on a strong wire. The curtain should be in three parts, with lead or large nails in the hems to keep it in place. The wood-work must be put together with screws, as the screen is too large to pass through a, door. [Illustration: Fig. 6.] [Illustration: Fig. 7.] [Illustration: Fig. 8.] At the end of the room, behind the screen, are two couches, to be run one under the other, as in Fig. 7. The upper one is made with four posts, each three feet high and three inches square, set on casters two inches high. The frame is to be fourteen inches from the floor, seven feet long, two feet four inches wide, and three inches in thickness. At the head, and at the foot, is to be screwed a notched two-inch board, three inches wide, as in Fig. 8. The mortises are to be one inch wide and deep, and one inch apart, to revive slats made of ash, oak, or spruce, one inch square, placed lengthwise of the couch. The slats being small, and so near together, and running lengthwise, make a better spring frame than wire coils. If they warp, they can be turned. They must not be fastened at the ends, except by insertion in the notches. Across the posts, and of equal height with them, are to be screwed head and foot-boards. The under couch is like the upper, except these dimensions: posts, nine inches high, including castors; frame, six feet two inches long, two feet four inches wide. The frame should be as near the floor as possible, resting on the casters. [Illustration: Fig. 9.] The most healthful and comfortable mattress is made by a case, open in the centre and fastened together with buttons, as in Fig. 9; to be filled with oat straw, which is softer than wheat or rye. This can be adjusted to the figure, and often renewed. Fig. 10 represents the upper couch when covered, with the under couch put beneath it. The coverlid should match the curtain of the screen; and the pillows, by day, should have a case of the same. [Illustration: Fig. 10.] [Illustration: Fig. 11.] Fig. 11 is an ottoman, made as a box, with a lid on hinges. A cushion is fastened to this lid by strings at each corner, passing through holes in the box lid and tied inside. The cushion to be cut square, with side pieces; stuffed with hair, and stitched through like a mattress. Side handles are made by cords fastened inside with knots. The box must be two inches larger at the bottom than at the top, and the lid and cushion the same size as the bottom, to give it a tasteful shape. This ottoman is set on casters, and is a great convenience for holding articles, while serving also as a seat. The expense of the screen, where lumber averages $4 a hundred, and carpenter labor $3 a day, would be about $30, and the two couches about $6. The material for covering might be cheap and yet pretty. A woman with these directions, and a son or husband who would use plane and saw, could thus secure much additional room, and also what amounts to two bureaus, two large trunks, one large wardrobe, and a wash-stand, for less than $20--the mere cost of materials. The screen and couches can be so arranged as to have one room serve first as a large and airy sleeping-room; then, in the morning, it may be used as sitting-room one side of the screen, and breakfast-room the other; and lastly, through the day it can be made a large parlor on the front side, and a sewing or retiring-room the other side. The needless spaces usually devoted to kitchen, entries, halls, back-stairs, pantries, store-rooms, and closets, by this method would be used in adding to the size of the large room, so variously used by day and by night. [Illustration: Fig. 12.] Fig. 12 is an enlarged plan of the kitchen and stove-room. The chimney and stove-room are contrived to ventilate the whole house, by a mode exhibited in another chapter. Between the two rooms glazed sliding-doors, passing each other, serve to shut out heat and smells from the kitchen. The sides of the stove-room must be lined with shelves; those on the side by the cellar stairs, to be one foot wide, and eighteen inches apart; on the other side, shelves may be narrower, eight inches wide and nine inches apart. Boxes with lids, to receive stove utensils, must be placed near the stove. On these shelves, and in the closet and boxes, can be placed every material used for cooking, all the table and cooking utensils, and all the articles used in house work, and yet much spare room will be left. The cook's galley in a steamship has every article and utensil used in cooking for two hundred persons, in a space not larger than this stove-room, and so arranged that with one or two steps the cook can reach all he uses. In contrast to this, in most large houses, the table furniture, the cooking materials and utensils, the sink, and the eating-room, are at such distances apart, that half the time and strength is employed in walking back and forth to collect and return the articles used. [Illustration: Fig. 13.] Fig. 13 is an enlarged plan of the sink and cooking-form. Two windows make a better circulation of air in warm weather, by having one open at top and the other at the bottom, while the light is better adjusted for working, in case of weak eyes. The flour-barrel just fills the closet, which has a door for admission, and a lid to raise when used. Beside it, is the form for cooking, with a moulding-board laid on it; one side used for preparing vegetables and meat, and the other for moulding bread. The sink has two pumps, for well and for rain-water--one having a forcing power to throw water into the reservoir in the garret, which supplies the water-closet and bath-room. On the other side of the sink is the dish-drainer, with a ledge on the edge next the sink, to hold the dishes, and grooves cut to let the water drain into the sink. It has hinges, so that it can either rest on the cook-form or be turned over and cover the sink. Under the sink are shelf-boxes placed on two shelves run into grooves, with other grooves above and below, so that one may move the shelves and increase or diminish the spaces between. The shelf-boxes can be used for scouring-materials, dish-towels, and dish-cloths; also to hold bowls for bits of butter, fats, etc. Under these two shelves is room for two pails, and a jar for soap-grease. Under the cook-form are shelves and shelf-boxes for unbolted wheat, corn-meal, rye, etc. Beneath these, for white and brown sugar, are wooden can-pails, which are the best articles in which to keep these constant necessities. Beside them is the tin molasses-can with a tight, movable cover, and a cork in the spout. This is much better than a jug for molasses, and also for vinegar and oil, being easier to clean and to handle. Other articles and implements for cooking can be arranged on or under the shelves at the side and front. A small cooking-tray, holding pepper, salt, dredging-box, knife and spoon, should stand close at hand by the stove, (Fig. 14.) [Illustration: Fig. 14.] [Illustration: Fig. 15.] The articles used for setting tables are to be placed on the shelves at the front and side of the sink. Two tumbler-trays, made of pasteboard, covered with varnished fancy papers and divided by wires, (as shown in Fig. 15,) save many steps in setting and clearing table. Similar trays, (Fig. 16,) for knives and forks and spoons, serve the same purpose. [Illustration: Fig. 16.] The sink should be three feet long and three inches deep, its width matching the cook-form. [Illustration: Fig. 18.] Fig. 17 is the second or attic story. The main objection to attic rooms is their warmth in summer, owing to the heated roof. This is prevented by so enlarging the closets each side that their walls meet the ceiling under the garret floor, thus excluding all the roof. In the bed-chambers, corner dressing-tables, as Fig. 18, instead of projecting bureaus, save much space for use, and give a handsome form and finish to the room. In the bath-room must be the opening to the garret, and a step-ladder to reach it. A reservoir in the garret, supplied by a forcing-pump in the cellar or at the sink, must be well supported by timbers, and the plumbing must be well done, or much annoyance will ensue. The large chambers are to be lighted by large windows or glazed sliding-doors, opening upon the balcony. A roof can be put over the balcony and its sides inclosed by windows, and the chamber extend into it, and be thus much enlarged. The water-closets must have the latest improvements for safe discharge, and there will be no trouble. They cost no more than an out-door building, and save from the most disagreeable house-labor. A great improvement, called _earth-closets_, will probably take the place of water-closets to some extent; though at present the water is the more convenient. A description of the earth-closet will be given in another chapter relating to tenement-houses for the poor in large cities. The method of ventilating all the chambers, and also the cellar, will be described in another chapter. [Illustration: Fig. 19.] Fig. 19 represents a shoe-bag, that can be fastened to the side of a closet or closet-door. [Illustration: Fig. 20.] Fig. 20 represents a piece-bag, and is a very great labor and space-saving invention. It is made of calico, and fastened to the side of a closet or a door, to hold all the bundles that are usually stowed in trunks and drawers. India-rubber or elastic tape drawn into hems to hold the contents of the bag is better than tape-strings. Each bag should be labeled with the name of its contents, written with indelible ink on white tape sewed on to the bag. Such systematic arrangement saves much time and annoyance. Drawers or trunks to hold these articles can not be kept so easily in good order, and moreover, occupy spaces saved by this contrivance. [Illustration: Fig. 21. Floor plan] Fig. 21 is the basement. It has the floor and sides plastered, and is lighted with glazed doors. A form is raised close by the cellar stairs, for baskets, pails, and tubs. Here, also, the refrigerator can be placed, or, what is better, an ice-closet can be made, as designated in the illustration. The floor of the basement must be an inclined plane toward a drain, and be plastered with water-lime. The wash-tubs have plugs in the bottom to let off water, and cocks and pipes over them bringing cold water from the reservoir in the garret and hot water from the laundry stove. This saves much heavy labor of emptying tubs and carrying water. The laundry closet has a stove for heating irons, and also a kettle on top for heating water. Slides or clothes-frames are made to draw out to receive wet clothes, and then run into the closet to dry. This saves health as well as time and money, and the clothes are as white as when dried outdoors. The wood-work of the house, for doors, windows, etc., should be oiled chestnut, butternut, white-wood, and pine. This is cheaper, handsomer, and more easy to keep clean than painted wood. In Fig. 21 are planned two conservatories, and few understand their value in the training of the young. They provide soil, in which children, through the winter months, can be starting seeds and plants for their gardens find raising valuable, tender plants. Every child should cultivate flowers and fruits to sell and to give away, and thus be taught to learn the value of money and to practice both economy and benevolence. According to the calculation of a house-carpenter, in a place where the average price of lumber is $4 a hundred, and carpenter work $3 a day, such a house can be built for $1600. For those practicing the closest economy, two small families could occupy it, by dividing the kitchen, and yet have room enough. Or one large room and the chamber over it can be left till increase of family and means require enlargement. A strong horse and carryall, with a cow, garden, vineyard, and orchard, on a few acres, would secure all the substantial comforts found in great establishments, without the trouble of ill-qualified servants. And if the parents and children were united in the daily labors of the house, garden, and fruit culture; such thrift, health, and happiness would be secured as is but rarely found among the rich. Let us suppose a colony of cultivated and Christian people, having abundant wealth, who now are living as the wealthy usually do, emigrating to some of the beautiful Southern uplands, where are rocks, hills, valleys, and mountains as picturesque as those of New England, where the thermometer but rarely reaches 90 degrees in summer, and in winter as rarely sinks below freezing-point, so that outdoor labor goes on all the year, where the fertile soil is easily worked, where rich tropical fruits and flowers abound, where cotton and silk can be raised by children around their home, where the produce of vineyards and orchards finds steady markets by railroads ready made; suppose such a colony, with a central church and school-room, library, hall for sports, and a common laundry, (taking the most trying part of domestic labor from each house,)--suppose each family to train the children to labor with the hands as a healthful and honorable duty; suppose all this, which is perfectly practicable, would not the enjoyment of this life be increased, and also abundant treasures be laid up in heaven, by using the wealth thus economized in diffusing similar enjoyments and culture among the poor, ignorant, and neglected ones in desolated sections where many now are perishing for want of such Christian example and influences? III. A HEALTHFUL HOME. When "the wise woman buildeth her house," the first consideration will be the health of the inmates. The first and most indispensable requisite for health is pure air, both by day and night. If the parents of a family should daily withhold from their children a large portion of food needful to growth and health, and every night should administer to each a small dose of poison, it would be called murder of the most hideous character. But it is probable that more than one half of this nation are doing that very thing. The murderous operation is perpetrated daily and nightly, in our parlors, our bed-rooms, our kitchens, our schoolrooms; and even our churches are no asylum from the barbarity. Nor can we escape by our railroads, for even there the same dreadful work is going on. The only palliating circumstance is the ignorance of those who commit these wholesale murders. As saith the Scripture, "The people do perish for lack of knowledge." And it is this lack of knowledge which it is woman's special business to supply, in first training her household to intelligence as the indispensable road to virtue and happiness. The above statements will be illustrated by some account of the manner in which the body is supplied with healthful nutriment. There are two modes of nourishing the body, one is by food and the other by air. In the stomach the food is dissolved, and the nutritious portion is absorbed by the blood, and then is earned by blood-vessels to the lungs, where it receives oxygen from the air we breathe. This oxygen is as necessary to the nourishment of the body as the food for the stomach. In a full-grown man weighing one hundred and fifty-four pounds, one hundred and eleven pounds consists of oxygen, obtained chiefly from the air we breathe. Thus the lungs feed the body with oxygen, as really as the stomach supplies the other food required. The lungs occupy the upper portion of the body from the collar-bone to the lower ribs, and between their two lobes is placed the heart. [Illustration: Fig. 22.] [Illustration: Fig. 23.] [Illustration: Fig. 24.] [Illustration: Fig. 25.] [Illustration: Fig. 26.] Fig. 22 shows the position of the lungs, though not the exact shape. On the right hand is the exterior of one of the lobes, and on the left hand are seen the branching tubes of the interior, through which the air we breathe passes to the exceedingly minute air-cells of which the lungs chiefly consist. Fig. 23 shows the outside of a cluster of these air-cells, and Fig. 24 is the inside view. The lining membrane of each air-cell is covered by a network of minute blood-vessels called _capillaries_ which, magnified several hundred times, appear in the microscope as at Fig. 25. Every air-cell has a blood-vessel that brings blood from the heart, which meanders through its capillaries till it reaches another blood-vessel that carries it back to the heart, as seen in Fig. 26. In this passage of the blood through these capillaries, the air in the air-cell imparts its oxygen to the blood, and receives in exchange carbonic acid and watery vapor. These latter are expired at every breath into the atmosphere. By calculating the number of air cells in a small portion of the lungs, under a microscope, it is ascertained that there are no less than eighteen million of these wonderful little purifiers and feeders of the body. By their ceaseless ministries, every grown person receives, each day, thirty-three hogsheads of air into the lungs to nourish and vitalize every part of the body, and also to carry off its impurities. But the heart has a most important agency in this operation. Fig. 27 is a diagram of the heart, which is placed between the two lobes of the lungs. The right side of the heart receives the dark and impure blood, which is loaded with carbonic acid. It is brought from every point of the body by branching veins that unite in the upper and the lower _vena cava_, which discharge into the right side of the heart. This impure blood passes to the capillaries of the air-cells in the lungs, where it gives off carbonic acid, and, taking oxygen from the air, then returns to the left side of the heart, from whence it is sent out through the _aorta_ and its myriad branching arteries to every part of the body. When the upper portion of the heart contracts, it forces both the pure blood from the lungs, and the impure blood from the body, through the valves marked V, V, into the lower part. When the lower portion contracts, it closes the valves and forces the impure blood into the lungs on one side, and also on the other side forces the purified blood through the aorta and arteries to all parts of the body. As before stated, the lungs consist chiefly of air-cells, the walls of which are lined with minute blood-vessels; and we know that in every man these air-cells number _eighteen millions_. Now every beat of the heart sends two ounces of blood into the minute, hair-like blood-vessels, called capillaries, that line these air-cells, where the air in the air-cells gives its oxygen to the blood, and in its place receives carbonic acid. This gas is then expired by the lungs into the surrounding atmosphere. Thus, by this powerful little organ, the heart, no less than twenty-eight pounds of blood, in a common-sized man, is sent three times every hour through the lungs, giving out carbonic acid and watery vapor, and receiving the life-inspiring oxygen. Whether all this blood shall convey the nourishing and invigorating oxygen to every part of the body, or return unrelieved of carbonic acid, depends entirely on the pureness of the atmosphere that is breathed. Every time we think or feel, this mental action dissolves some particles of the brain and nerves, which pass into the blood to be thrown out of the body through the lungs and skin. In like manner, whenever we move any muscle, some of its particles decay and pass away. It is in the capillaries, which are all over the body, that this change takes place. The blood-vessels that convey the pure blood from the heart, divide into myriads of little branches that terminate in capillary vessels like those lining the air-cells of the lungs. The blood meanders through these minute capillaries, depositing the oxygen taken from the lungs and the food of the stomach, and receiving in return the decayed matter, which is chiefly carbonic acid. This carbonic acid is formed by the union of oxygen with _carbon_ or _charcoal_, which forms a large portion of the body. Watery vapor is also formed in the capillaries by the union of oxygen with the hydrogen contained in the food and drink that nourish the body. During this process in the capillaries, the bright red blood of the arteries changes to the purple blood of the veins, which is carried back to the heart, to be sent to the lungs as before described. A portion of the oxygen received in the lungs unites with the dissolved food sent from the stomach into the blood, and no food can nourish the body till it has received a proper supply of oxygen in the lungs. At every breath a half-pint of blood receives its needed oxygen in the lungs, and at the same time gives out an equal amount of carbonic acid and water. Now, this carbonic acid, if received into the lungs, undiluted by sufficient air, is a fatal poison, causing certain death. When it is mixed with only a small portion of air, it is a slow poison, which imperceptibly undermines the constitution. We now can understand how it is that all who live in houses where the breathing of inmates has deprived the air of oxygen, and loaded it with carbonic acid, may truly be said to be poisoned and starved; poisoned with carbonic acid, and starved for want of oxygen. Whenever oxygen unites with carbon to form carbonic acid, or with hydrogen to form water, heat is generated Thus it is that a land of combustion is constantly going on in the capillaries all over the body. It is this burning of the decaying portions of the body that causes animal heat. It is a process similar to that which takes place when lamps and candles are burning. The oil and tallows which are chiefly carbon and hydrogen, unite with the oxygen of the air and form carbonic acid and watery vapor, producing heat during the process. So in the capillaries all over the body, the carbon and hydrogen supplied to the blood by the stomach, unite with the oxygen gained in the lungs, and cause the heat which is diffused all over the body. The skin also performs an office, similar to that of the lungs. In the skin of every adult there are no less than seven million minute perspirating tubes, each one fourth of an inch long. If all these were united in one length, they would extend twenty-eight miles. These minute tubes are lined with capillary blood-vessels, which are constantly sending out not only carbonic acid, but other gases and particles of decayed matter. The skin and lungs together, in one day and night, throw out three quarters of a pound of charcoal as carbonic acid, beside other gases and water. While the bodies of men and animals are filling the air with the poisonous carbonic acid, and using up the life-giving oxygen, the trees and plants are performing an exactly contrary process; for they are absorbing carbonic acid and giving out oxygen. Thus, by a wonderful arrangement of the beneficent Creator, a constant equilibrium is preserved. What animals use is provided by vegetables, and what vegetables require is furnished by animals; and all goes on, day and night, without care or thought of man. The human race in its infancy was placed in a mild and genial clime, where each separate family dwelt in tents, and breathed, both day and night, the pure air of heaven. And when they became scattered abroad to colder climes, the open fire-place secured a full supply of pure air. But civilization has increased economies and conveniences far ahead of the knowledge needed by the common people for their healthful use. Tight sleeping-rooms, and close, air-tight stoves, are now starving and poisoning more than one half of this nation. It seems impossible to make people know their danger. And the remedy for this is the light of knowledge and intelligence which it is woman's special mission to bestow, as she controls and regulates the ministries of a home. The poisoning process is thus exhibited in Mrs. Stowe's "House and Home Papers," and can not be recalled too often: "No other gift of God, so precious, so inspiring, is treated with such utter irreverence and contempt in the calculations of us mortals as this same air of heaven. A sermon on oxygen, if we had a preacher who understood the subject, might do more to repress sin than the most orthodox discourse to show when and how and why sin came. A minister gets up in a crowded lecture-room, where the mephitic air almost makes the candles burn blue, and bewails the deadness of the church--the church the while, drugged by the poisoned air, growing sleepier and sleepier, though they feel dreadfully wicked for being so. "Little Jim, who, fresh from his afternoon's ramble in the fields, last evening said his prayers dutifully, and lay down to sleep in a most Christian frame, this morning sits up in bed with his hair bristling with crossness, strikes at his nurse, and declares he won't say his prayers--that he don't want to be good. The simple difference is, that the child, having slept in a close box of a room, his brain all night fed by poison, is in a mild state of moral insanity. Delicate women remark that it takes them till eleven or twelve o'clock to get up their strength in the morning. Query, Do they sleep with closed windows and doors, and with heavy bed-curtains? "The houses built by our ancestors were better ventilated in certain respects than modern ones, with all their improvements. The great central chimney, with its open fire-places in the different rooms, created a constant current which carried off foul and vitiated air. In these days, how common is it to provide rooms with only a flue for a stove! This flue is kept shut in summer, and in winter opened only to admit a close stove, which burns away the vital portion of the air quite as fast as the occupants breathe it away. The sealing up of fire-places and introduction of air-tight stoves may, doubtless, be a saving of fuel; it saves, too, more than that; in thousands and thousands of cases it has saved people from all further human wants, and put an end forever to any needs short of the six feet of narrow earth which are man's only inalienable property. In other words, since the invention of air-tight stoves, thousands have died of slow poison. "It is a terrible thing to reflect upon, that our northern winters last from November to May, six long months, in which many families confine themselves to one room, of which every window-crack has been carefully calked to make it air-tight, where an air-tight stove keeps the atmosphere at a temperature between eighty and ninety; and the inmates, sitting there with all their winter clothes on, become enervated both by the heat and by the poisoned air, for which there is no escape but the occasional opening of a door. "It is no wonder that the first result of all this is such a delicacy of skin and lungs that about half the inmates are obliged to give up going into the open air during the six cold months, because they invariably catch cold if they do so. It is no wonder that the cold caught about the first of December has by the first of March become a fixed consumption, and that the opening of the spring, which ought to bring life and health, in so many cases brings death. "We hear of the lean condition in which the poor bears emerge from their six months' wintering, during which they subsist on the fat which they have acquired the previous summer. Even so, in our long winters, multitudes of delicate people subsist on the daily waning strength which they acquired in the season when windows and doors were open, and fresh air was a constant luxury. No wonder we hear of spring fever and spring biliousness, and have thousands of nostrums for clearing the blood in the spring. All these things are the pantings and palpitations of a system run down under slow poison, unable to get a step further. "Better, far better, the old houses of the olden time, with their great roaring fires, and their bed-rooms where the snow came in and the wintry winds whistled. Then, to be sure, you froze your back while you burned your face, your water froze nightly in your pitcher, your breath congealed in ice-wreaths on the blankets, and you could write your name on the pretty snow-wreath that had sifted in through the window-cracks. But you woke full of life and vigor, you looked out into the whirling snow-storms without a shiver, and thought nothing of plunging through drifts as high as your head on your daily way to school. You jingled in sleighs, you snow-balled, you lived in snow like a snow-bird, and your blood coursed and tingled, in full tide of good, merry, real life, through your veins--none of the slow-creeping, black blood which clogs the brain and lies like a weight on the vital wheels!" To illustrate the effects of this poison, the horrors of "the Black Hole of Calcutta" are often referred to, where one hundred and forty-six men were crowded into a room only eighteen feet square with but two small windows, and in a hot climate. After a night of such horrible torments as chill the blood to read, the morning showed a pile of one hundred and twenty-three dead men and twenty-three half dead that were finally recovered only to a life of weakness and suffering. In another case, a captain of the steamer Londonderry, in 1848, from sheer ignorance of the consequences, in a storm, shut up his passengers in a tight room without windows. The agonies, groans, curses, and shrieks that followed were horrible. The struggling mass finally burst the door, and the captain found seventy-two of the two hundred already dead; while others, with blood starting from their eyes and ears, and their bodies in convulsions, were restored, many only to a life of sickness and debility. It is ascertained by experiments that breathing bad air tends so to reduce all the processes of the body, that less oxygen is demanded and less carbonic acid sent out. This, of course, lessens the vitality and weakens the constitution; and it accounts for the fact that a person of full health, accustomed to pure air, suffers from bad air far more than those who are accustomed to it. The body of strong and healthy persons demands more oxygen, and throws off more carbonic acid, and is distressed when the supply fails. But the one reduced by bad air feels little inconvenience, because all the functions of life are so slow that less oxygen is needed, and less carbonic acid thrown out. And the sensibilities being deadened, the evil is not felt. This provision of nature prolongs many lives, though it turns vigorous constitutions into feeble ones. Were it not for this change in the constitution, thousands in badly ventilated rooms and houses would come to a speedy death. One of the results of unventilated rooms is _scrofula_, A distinguished French physician, M. Baudeloque, states that: "The repeated respiration of the same atmosphere is _the_ cause of scrofula. If there be entirely pure air, there may be bad food, bad clothing, and want of personal cleanliness, but scrofulous disease can not exist. This disease _never_ attacks persons who pass their lives in the open air, and always manifests itself when they abide in air which is unrenewed. _Invariably_ it will be found that a truly scrofulous disease is caused by vitiated air; and it is not necessary that there should be a prolonged stay in such an atmosphere. Often, several hours each day is sufficient. Thus persons may live in the most healthy country, pass most of the day in the open air, and yet become scrofulous by sleeping in a close room where the air is not renewed. This is the case with many shepherds who pass their nights in small huts with no opening but a door closed tight at night." The same writer illustrates this, by the history of a French village where the inhabitants all slept in close, unventilated houses. Nearly all were seized with scrofula, and many families became wholly extinct, their last members dying "rotten with scrofula." A fire destroyed a large part of this village. Houses were then built to secure pure air, and scrofula disappeared from the part thus rebuilt. We are informed by medical writers that defective ventilation is one great cause of diseased joints, as well as of diseases of the eyes, ears, and skin. Foul air is the leading cause of tubercular and scrofulous consumption, so very common in our country. Dr, Guy, in his examination before public health commissioners in Great Britain, says: "Deficient ventilation I believe to be more fatal than _all other causes_ put together." He states that consumption is twice as common among tradesmen as among the gentry, owing to the bad ventilation of their stores and dwellings. Dr. Griscom, in his work on Uses and Abuses of Air, says: "Food carried from the stomach to the blood can not become _nutritive_ till it is properly oxygenated in the lungs; so that a small quantity of food, even if less wholesome, may be made nutritive by pure air as it passes through the lungs. But the best of food can not be changed into nutritive blood till it is vitalized by pure air in the lungs." And again: "To those who have the care and instruction of the rising generation--the future fathers and mothers of men--this subject of ventilation commends itself with an interest surpassing every other. Nothing can more convincingly establish the belief in the existence of something vitally wrong in the habits and circumstances of civilized life than the appalling fact that _one fourth_ of all who are born die before reaching the fifth year, and _one half_ the deaths of mankind occur under the twentieth year. Let those who have these things in charge answer to their own consciences how they discharge their duty in supplying to the young a _pure atmosphere_, which is the _first_ requisite for _healthy bodies_ and _sound minds_." On the subject of infant mortality the experience of savages should teach the more civilized. Professor Brewer, who traveled extensively among the Indians of our western territories, states: "I have rarely seen a sick boy among the Indians." Catlin, the painter, who resided and traveled so much among these people, states that infant mortality is very small among them, the reason, of course, being abundant exercise and pure air. Dr. Dio Lewis, whose labors in the cause of health are well known, in his very useful work, _Weak Lungs and How to Make them Strong_, says: "As a medical man I have visited thousands of sickrooms, and have not found in _one in a hundred_ of them a pure atmosphere. I have often returned from church doubting whether I had not committed a sin in exposing myself so long to its poisonous air. There are in our great cities churches costing $50,000, in the construction of which, not fifty cents were expended in providing means for ventilation. Ten thousand dollars for ornament, but not ten cents for pure air! "Unventilated parlors, with gas-burners, (each consuming as much oxygen as several men,) made as tight as possible, and a party of ladies and gentlemen spending half the night in them! In 1861, I visited a legislative hall, the legislature being in session. I remained half an hour in the most impure air I ever breathed. Our school-houses are, some of them, so vile in this respect, that I would prefer to have my son remain in utter ignorance of books rather than to breathe, six hours every day, such a poisonous atmosphere. Theatres and concert-rooms are so foul that only reckless people continue to visit them. Twelve hours in a railway-car exhausts one, not by the journeying, but because of the devitalized air. While crossing the ocean in a Cunard steamer, I was amazed that men who knew enough to construct such ships did not know enough to furnish air to the passengers. The distress of sea-sickness is greatly intensified by the sickening air of the ship. Were carbonic acid _only black_, what a contrast there would be between our hotels in their elaborate ornament!" "Some time since I visited an establishment where one hundred and fifty girls, in a single room, were engaged in needle-work. Pale-faced, and with low vitality and feeble circulation, they were unconscious that they were breathing air that at once produced in me dizziness and a sense of suffocation. If I had remained a week with, them, I should, by reduced vitality, have become unconscious of the vileness of the air!" There is a prevailing prejudice against _night air_ as unhealthful to be admitted into sleeping-rooms, which is owing wholly to sheer ignorance. In the night every body necessarily breathes night air and no other. When admitted from without into a sleeping-room it is colder, and therefore heavier, than the air within, so it sinks to the bottom of the room and forces out an equal quantity of the impure air, warmed and vitiated by passing through the lungs of inmates. Thus the question is, Shall we shut up a chamber and breathe night air vitiated with carbonic acid or night air that is pure? The only real difficulty about night air is, that usually it is damper, and therefore colder and more likely to chill. This is easily prevented by sufficient bed-clothing. One other very prevalent mistake is found even in books written by learned men. It is often thought that carbonic acid, being heavier than common air, sinks to the floor of sleeping-rooms, so that the low trundle-beds for children should not be used. This is all a mistake; for, as a fact, in close sleeping-rooms the purest air is below and the most impure above. It is true that carbonic acid is heavier than common air, when pure; but this it rarely is except in chemical experiments. It is the property of all gases, as well as of the two (oxygen and nitrogen) composing the atmosphere, that when brought together they always are entirely mixed, each being equally diffused exactly as it would be if alone. Thus the carbonic acid from the skin and lungs, being warmed in the body, rises as does the common air, with which it mixes, toward the top of a room; so that usually there is more carbonic acid at the top than at the bottom of a room. [Footnote: Prof. Brewer, of the Tale Scientific School, says: "As a fact, often demonstrated by analysis, there is generally more carbonic acid near the ceiling than near the floor."] Both common air and carbonic acid expand and become lighter in the same proportions; that is, for every degree of added heat they expand at the rate of 1/480 of their bulk. Here, let it be remembered, that in ill-ventilated rooms the carbonic acid is not the only cause of disease. Experiments seem to prove that other matter thrown out of the body, through the lungs and skin, is as truly excrement and in a state of decay as that ejected from the bowels, and as poisonous to the animal system. Carbonic acid has no odor; but we are warned by the disagreeable effluvia of close sleeping-rooms of the other poison thus thrown into the air from the skin and lungs. There is one provision of nature that is little understood, which saves the lives of thousands living in unventilated houses; and that is, the passage of pure air inward and impure air outward through the pores of bricks, wood, stone, and mortar. Were such dwellings changed to tin, which is not thus porous, in less than a week thousands and tens of thousands would be in danger of perishing by suffocation. These statements give some idea of the evils to be remedied. But the most difficult point is _how_ to secure the remedy. For often the attempt to secure pure air by one class of persons brings chills, colds, and disease on another class, from mere ignorance or mismanagement. To illustrate this, it must be borne in mind that those who live in warm, close, and unventilated rooms are much more liable to take cold from exposure to draughts and cold air than those of vigorous vitality accustomed to breathe pure air. Thus the strong and healthy husband, feeling the want of pure air in the night, and knowing its importance, keeps windows open and makes such draughts that the wife, who lives all day in a close room and thus is low in vitality, can not bear the change, has colds, and sometimes perishes a victim to wrong modes of ventilation. So, even in health-establishments, the patients will pass most of their days and nights in badly-ventilated rooms. But at times the physician, or some earnest patient, insists on a mode of ventilation that brings more evil than good to the delicate inmates. The grand art of ventilating houses is by some method that will empty rooms of the vitiated air and bring in a supply of pure air _by small and imperceptible currents_. But this important duty of a Christian woman is one that demands more science, care, and attention than almost any other; and yet, to prepare her for this duty has never been any part of female education. Young women are taught to draw mathematical diagrams and to solve astronomical problems; but few, if any, of them are taught to solve the problem of a house constructed to secure pure and moist air by day and night for all its inmates. The heating and management of the air we breathe is one of the most complicated problems of domestic economy, as will be farther illustrated in the succeeding chapter; and yet it is one of which, most American women are profoundly ignorant. IV. SCIENTIFIC DOMESTIC VENTILATION. We have seen in the preceding pages the process through which the air is rendered unhealthful by close rooms and want of ventilation. Every person inspires air about twenty times each minute, using half a pint each time. At this rate, every pair of lungs vitiates one hogshead of air every hour. The membrane that lines the multitudinous air-cells of the lungs in which the capillaries are, should it be united in one sheet, would cover the floor of a room twelve feet square. Every breath brings a surface of air in contact with this extent of capillaries, by which the air inspired gives up most of its oxygen and receives carbonic acid in its stead. These facts furnish a guide for the proper ventilation of rooms. Just in proportion to the number of persons in a room or a house, should be the amount of air brought in and carried out by arrangements for ventilation. But how rarely is this rule regarded in building houses or in the care of families by housekeepers! The evils resulting from the substitution of stoves instead of the open fireplace, have led scientific and benevolent men to contrive various modes of supplying pure air to both public and private houses. But as yet little has been accomplished, except for a few of the more intelligent and wealthy. The great majority of the American people, owing to sheer ignorance, are, for want of pure air, being poisoned and starved; the result being weakened constitutions, frequent disease, and shortened life. Whenever a family-room is heated by an open fire, it is duly ventilated, as the impure air is constantly passing off through the chimney, while, to supply the vacated space, the pure air presses in through the cracks of doors, windows, and floors. No such supply is gained for rooms warmed by stoves. And yet, from mistaken motives of economy, as well as from ignorance of the resulting evils, multitudes of householders are thus destroying health and shortening life, especially in regard to women and children who spend most of their time within-doors. The most successful modes of making "a healthful home" by a full supply of pure air to every inmate, will now be described and illustrated. It is the common property of both air and water to expand, become lighter and rise, just in proportion as they are heated; and therefore it is the invariable law that cool air sinks, thus replacing the warmer air below. Thus, whenever cool air enters a warm room, it sinks downward and takes the place of an equal amount of the warmer air, which is constantly tending upward and outward. This principle of all fluids is illustrated by the following experiment: Take a glass jar about a foot high and three inches in diameter, and with a wire to aid in placing it aright, sink a small bit of lighted candle so as to stand in the centre at the bottom. (Fig. 28.) The candle will heat the air of the jar, which will rise a little on one side, while the colder air without will begin falling on the other side. These two currents will so conflict as finally to cease, and then the candle, having no supply of oxygen from fresh air, will begin to go out. Insert a bit of stiff paper so as to divide the mouth of the jar, and instantly the cold and warm air are not in conflict as before, because a current is formed each side of the paper; the cold air descending on one aide and the warm air ascending the other side, as indicated by the arrows. As long as the paper remains, the candle will burn, and as soon as it is removed, it will begin to go out, and can be restored by again inserting the paper. [Illustration: Fig. 28] [Illustration: Fig. 29] This illustrates the mode by which coal-mines are ventilated when filled with carbonic acid. A shaft divided into two passages, (Fig. 29,) is let down into the mine, where the air is warmer than the outside air. Immediately the colder air outside presses down into the mine, through the passage which is highest, being admitted by the escape of an equal quantity of the warmer air, which rises through the lower passage of the shaft, this being the first available opening for it to rise through. A current is thus created, which continues as long as the inside air is warmer than that without the mine, and no longer. Sometimes a fire is kindled in the mine, in order to continue or increase the warmth, and consequent upward current of its air. This illustrates one of the cases where a "wise woman that buildeth her house" is greatly needed. For, owing to the ignorance of architects, house-builders, and men in general, they have been building school-houses, dwelling-houses, churches, and colleges, with the most absurd and senseless contrivances for ventilation, and all from not applying this simple principle of science. On this point, Prof. Brewer, of the Scientific School of Yale College, writes thus: "I have been in public buildings, (I have one in mind now, filled with dormitories,) which cost half a million, where they attempted to ventilate every room by a flue, long and narrow, built into partition walls, and extending up into the capacious garret of the fifth story. Every room in the building had one such flue, with an opening into it at the floor and at the ceiling. It is needless to say that the whole concern was entirely useless. Had these flues been of proper proportions, and properly divided, the desired ventilation would have been secured." And this piece of ignorant folly was perpetrated in the midst of learned professors, teaching the laws of fluids and the laws of health. A learned physician also thus wrote to the author of this chapter: "The subject of the ventilation of our dwelling-houses is one of the most important questions of our times. How many thousands are victims to a slow suicide and murder, the chief instrument of which is want of ventilation! How few are aware of the fact that every person, every day, vitiates thirty-three hogsheads of the air, and that each inspiration takes one fifth of the oxygen, and returns as much carbonic acid, from every pair of lungs in a room! How few understand that after air has received ten per cent of this fatal gas, if drawn into the lungs, it can no longer take carbonic acid from the capillaries! No wonder there is so much impaired nervous and muscular energy, so much scrofula, tubercles, catarrhs, dyspepsia, and typhoid diseases. I hope you can do much to remedy the poisonous air of thousands and thousands of stove-heated rooms." In a cold climate and wintry weather, the grand impediment to ventilating rooms by opening doors or windows is the dangerous currents thus produced, which are so injurious to the delicate ones that for their sake it can not be done. Then, also, as a matter of economy, the poor can not afford to practice a method which carries off the heat generated by their stinted store of fuel. Even in a warm season and climate, there are frequent periods when the air without is damp and chilly, and yet at nearly the same temperature as that in the house. At such times, the opening of windows often has little effect in emptying a room of vitiated air. The ventilating-flues, such as are used in mines, have, in such cases, but little influence; for it is only when outside air is colder that a current can be produced within by this method. The most successful mode of ventilating a house is by creating a current of warm air in a flue, into which an opening is made at both the top and the bottom of a room, while a similar opening for outside air is made at the opposite side of the room. This is the mode employed in chemical laboratories for removing smells and injurious gases. The laboratory-closet is closed with glazed doors, and has an opening to receive pure air through a conductor from without. The stove or furnace within has a pipe which joins a larger cast-iron chimney-pipe, which is warmed by the smoke it receives from this and other fires. This cast-iron pipe is surrounded by a brick flue, through which air passes from below to be warmed by the pipe, and thus an upward current of warm air is created. Openings are then made at the top and bottom of the laboratory-closet into the warm-air flue, and the gases and smells are pressed by the colder air into this flue, and are carried off in the current of warm air. The same method is employed in the dwelling-house shown in a preceding chapter. A cast-iron pipe is made in sections, which are to be united, and the whole fastened at top and bottom in the centre of the warm-air flue by ears extending to the bricks, and fastened when the flue is in process of building. Projecting openings to receive the pipes of the furnace, the laundry stove, and two stoves in each story, should be provided, which must be closed when not in use. A large opening is to be made into the warm-air fine, and through this the kitchen stove-pipe is to pass, and be joined to the cast-iron chimney-pipe. Thus the smoke of the kitchen stove will warm the iron chimney-pipe, and this will warm the air of the flue, causing a current upward, and this current will draw the heat and smells of cooking out of the kitchen into the opening of the warm-air flue. Every room surrounding the chimney has an opening at the top and bottom into the warm-air Hue for ventilation, as also have the bathroom and water-closets. [Illustration: Fig. 30.] The writer has examined the methods most employed at the present time, which are all modifications of the two modes here described. One is that of Robinson, patented by a Boston company, which is a modification of the mining mode. It consists of the two ventilating tubes, such as are employed in mines, united in one shaft with a roof to keep out rain, and a valve to regulate the entrance and exit of air, as illustrated in Fig. 30. This method works well in certain circumstances, but fails so often as to prove very unreliable. Another mode is that of Ruttan, which is effected by heating air. This also has certain advantages and disadvantages. But the mode adopted for the preceding cottage plan is free from the difficulties of both the above methods, while it will surely ventilate every room in the house, both by day and night, and at all seasons, without any risk to health, and requiring no attention or care from the family. By means of a very small amount of fuel in the kitchen stove, to be described hereafter, the whole house can be ventilated, and all the cooking done both in warm and cold weather. This stove will also warm the whole house, in the Northern States, eight or nine months in the year. Two Franklin stoves, in addition, will warm the whole house during the three or four remaining coldest months. In a warm climate or season, by means of the non-conducting castings, the stove will ventilate the house and do all the cooking, without imparting heat or smells to any part of the house except the stove-closet. At the close of this volume, drawings, prepared by Mr. Lewis Leeds, are given, more fully to illustrate this mode of warming and ventilation, and in so plain and simple a form that any intelligent woman who has read this work can see that the plan is properly executed, even with workmen so entirely ignorant on this important subject as are most house-builders, especially in the newer territories. In the same article, directions are given as to the best modes of ventilating houses that are already built without any arrangements for ventilation. V. THE CONSTRUCTION AND CARE OF STOVES, FURNACES, AND CHIMNEYS. If all American housekeepers could be taught how to select and manage the most economical and convenient apparatus for cooking and for warming a house, many millions now wasted by ignorance and neglect would be saved. Every woman should be taught the scientific principles in regard to heat, and then their application to practical purposes, for her own benefit, and also to enable her to train her children and servants in this important duty of home life on which health and comfort so much depend. The laws that regulate the generation, diffusion, and preservation of heat as yet are a sealed mystery to thousands of young women who imagine they are completing a suitable education in courses of instruction from which most that is practical in future domestic life is wholly excluded. We therefore give a brief outline of some of the leading scientific principles which every housekeeper should understand and employ, in order to perform successfully one of her most important duties. Concerning the essential nature of heat, and its intimate relations with the other great natural forces, light, electricity, etc., we shall not attempt to treat, but shall, for practical purposes, assume it to be a separate and independent force. Heat or caloric, then, has certain powers or principles. Let us consider them: First, we find _Conduction_, by which heat passes from one particle to another next to it; as when one end of a poker is warmed by placing the other end in the fire. The bodies which allow this power free course are called conductors, and those which do not are named non-conductors, Metals are good conductors; feathers, wool, and furs are poor conductors; and water, air, and gases are non-conductors. Another principle of heat is _Convection_, by which water, air, and gases are warmed. This is, literally, the process of _conveying_ heat from one portion of a fluid body to another by currents resulting from changes of temperature. It is secured by bringing one portion of a liquid or gas into contact with a heated surface, whereby it becomes lighter and expanded in volume. In consequence, the cooler and heavier particles above pressing downward, the lighter ones rise upward, when the former, being heated, rise in their turn, and give place to others again descending from above. Thus a constant motion of currents and interchange of particles is produced until, as in a vessel of water, the whole body comes to an equal temperature. Air is heated in the same way. In case of a hot stove, the air that touches it is heated, becomes lighter, and rises, giving place to cooler and heavier particles, which, when heated, also ascend. It is owing to this process that the air of a room is warmest at the top and coolest at the bottom. It is owing to this principle, also, that water and air can not be heated by fire from above. For the particles of these bodies, being non-conductors, do not impart heat to each other; and when the warmest are at the top, they can not take the place of cooler and heavier ones below. Another principle of heat (which it shares with light) is _Radiation_, by which all things send out heat to surrounding cooler bodies. Some bodies will absorb radiated heat, others will reflect it, and others allow it to pass through them without either absorbing or reflecting Thus, black and rough substances absorb heat, (or light,) colored and smooth articles reflect it, while air allows it to pass through without either absorbing or reflecting. It is owing to this, that rough and black vessels boil water sooner than smooth and light-colored ones. Another principle is _Reflection_, by which heat radiated to a surface is turned back from it when not absorbed or allowed to pass through; just as a ball rebounds from a wall; just as sound is thrown back from a hill, making echo; just as rays of light are reflected from a mirror. And, as with light, the rays of heat are always reflected from a surface in an angle exactly corresponding to the direction in which it strikes that surface. Thus, if heated are comes to an object perpendicularly--that is, at right angles, it will be reflected back in the same line. If it strikes obliquely, it is reflected obliquely, at an angle with the surface precisely the same as the angle with which it first struck. And, of course, if it moves toward the surface and comes upon it in a line having so small an angle with it as to be almost parallel with it, the heated air is spread wide and diffused through a larger space than when the angles are greater and the width of reflection less. [Illustration: Fig. 31.] [Illustration: Fig. 32.] [Illustration: Fig. 33.] The simplest mode of warming a house and cooking food is by radiated heat from fires; but this is the most wasteful method, as respects time, labor, and expense. The most convenient, economical, and labor-saving mode of employing heat is by convection, as applied in stoves and furnaces. But for want of proper care and scientific knowledge this method has proved very destructive to health. When warming and cooking were done by open fires, houses were well supplied with pure air, as is rarely the case in rooms heated by stoves. For such is the prevailing ignorance on this subject that, as long as stoves save labor and warm the air, the great majority of people, especially among the poor, will use them in ways that involve debilitated constitutions and frequent disease. The most common modes of cooking, where open fires are relinquished, are by the range and the cooking-stove. The range is inferior to the stove in these respects: it is less economical, demanding much more fuel; it endangers the dress of the cook while standing near for various operations; it requires more stooping than the stove while cooking; it will not keep a fire all night, as do the best stoves; it will not burn wood and coal equally well; and lastly, if it warms the kitchen sufficiently in winter, it is too warm for summer. Some prefer it because the fumes of cooking can be carried off; but stoves properly arranged accomplish this equally well. After extensive inquiry and many personal experiments, the author has found a cooking-stove constructed on true scientific principles, which unites convenience, comfort, and economy in a remarkable manner. Of this stove, drawings and descriptions will now be given, as the best mode of illustrating the practical applications of these principles to the art of cooking, and to show how much American women have suffered and how much they have been imposed upon for want of proper knowledge in this branch of their profession. And every woman can understand what follows with much less effort than young girls at high-schools give to the first problems of Geometry--for which they will never have any practical use, while attention to this problem of home affairs will cultivate the intellect quite as much as the abstract reasonings of Algebra and Geometry., [Illustration: Fig. 34.] Fig. 34 represents a portion of the interior of this cooking-stove. First, notice the fire-box, which has corrugated (literally, wrinkled) sides, by which space is economized, so that as much heating surface is secured as if they were one third larger; as the heat radiates from every part of the undulating surface, which is one third greater in superficial extent than if it were plane. The shape of the fire-box also secures more heat by having oblique sides--which radiate more effectively into the oven beneath than if they were perpendicular, as illustrated below--while also it is sunk into the oven, so as to radiate from three instead of from two sides, as in most other stoves, the front of whose fire-boxes with their grates are built so as to be the front of the stove itself. [Illustration: Fig 35. Model Stove] [Illustration: Fig 36. Ordinary Stove] The oven is the space under and around the back and front sides of the fire-box. The oven-bottom is not introduced in the diagram, but it is a horizontal plate between the fire-box and what is represented as the "flue-plate," which separates the oven from the bottom of the stove. The top of the oven is the horizontal corrugated plate passing from the rear edge of the fire-box to the back flues. These are three in number--the back centre-flue, which is closed to the heat and smoke coming over the oven from the fire-box by a damper--and the two back corner-flues. Down these two corner-flues passes the current of hot air and smoke, having first drawn across the corrugated oven-top. The arrows show its descent through these flues, from which it obliquely strikes and passes over the flue-plate, then under it, and then out through the centre back-flue, which is open at the bottom, up into the smoke-pipe. The flue-plate is placed obliquely, to accumulate heat by forcing and compression; for the back space where the smoke enters from the corner-flues is largest, and decreases toward the front, so that the hot current is compressed in a narrow space, between the oven-bottom and the flue-plate at the place where the bent arrows are seen. Here again it enters a wider space, under the flue-plate, and proceeds to another narrow one, between the flue-plate and the bottom of the stove, and thus is compressed and retained longer than if not impeded by these various contrivances. The heat and smoke also strike the plate obliquely, and thus, by reflection from its surface, impart more heat than if the passage was a horizontal one. The external radiation is regulated by the use of nonconducting plaster applied to the flue-plate and to the sides of the corner-flues, so that the heat is prevented from radiating in any direction except toward the oven. The doors, sides, and bottom of the stove are lined with tin casings, which hold a stratum of air, also a non-conductor. These are so arranged as to be removed whenever the weather becomes cold, so that the heat may then radiate into the kitchen. The outer edges of the oven are also similarly protected from loss of heat by tin casings and air-spaces, and the oven-doors opening at the front of the store are provided with the same economical savers of heat. High tin covers placed on the top prevent the heat from radiating above the stove. These are exceedingly useful, as the space under them is well heated and arranged for baking, for heating irons, and many other incidental necessities. Cake and pies can be baked on the top, while the oven is used for bread or for meats. When all the casings and covers are on, almost all the heat is confined within the stove, and whenever heat for the room is wanted, opening the front oven-doors turns it out into the kitchen. Another contrivance is that of ventilating-holes in the front doors, through which fresh air is brought into the oven. This secures several purposes: it carries off the fumes of cooking meats, and prevents the mixing of flavors when different articles are cooked in the oven; it drives the heat that accumulates between the fire-box and front doors down around the oven, and equalizes its heat, so that articles need not be moved while baking; and lastly, as the air passes through the holes of the fire-box, it causes the burning of gases in the smoke, and thus increases heat. When wood or bituminous coal is used, perforated metal linings are put in the fire-box, and the result is the burning of smoke and gases that otherwise would pass into the chimney. This is a great discovery in the economy of fuel, which can be applied in many ways. Heretofore, most cooking-stoves have had dumping-grates, which are inconvenient from the dust produced, are uneconomical in the use of fuel, and disadvantageous from too many or too loose joints. But recently this stove has been provided with a dumping-grate which also will sift ashes, and can be cleaned without dust and the other objectionable features of dumping-grates. A further account of this stove, and the mode of purchasing and using it, will be given at the close of the book. Those who are taught to manage the stove properly keep the fire going all night, and equally well with wood or coal, thus saving the expense of kindling and the trouble of starting a new fire. When the fuel is of good quality, all that is needed in the morning is to draw the back-damper, snake the grate, and add more fuel. Another remarkable feature of this store is the extension-top, on which is placed a water reservoir, constantly heated by the smoke as it passes from the stove, through one or two uniting passages, to the smoke-pipe. Under this is placed a closet for warming and keeping hot the dishes, vegetables, meats, etc., while preparing for dinner. It is also very useful in drying fruit; and when large baking is required, a small appended pot for charcoal turns it into a fine large oven, that bakes as nicely as a brick oven. Another useful appendage is a common tin oven, in which roasting can be done in front of the stove, the oven-doors being removed for the purpose. The roast will be done as perfectly as by an open fire. This stove is furnished with pipes for heating water, like the water-back of ranges, and these can be taken or left out at pleasure. So also the top covers, the baking-stool and pot, and the summer-back, bottom, and side-casings can be used or omitted as preferred. [Illustration Fig 37] Fig. 37 exhibits the stove completed, with all its appendages, as they might be employed in cooking for a large number. Its capacity, convenience, and economy as a stove may be estimated by the following fact: With proper management of dampers, one ordinary-sized coal-hod of anthracite coal will, for twenty-four hours, keep the stove running, keep seventeen gallons of water hot at all hours, bake pies and puddings in the warm closet, heat flat-irons under the back cover, boil tea-kettle and one pot under the front cover, bake bread in the oven, and cook a turkey in the tin roaster in front. The author has numerous friends, who, after trying the best ranges, have dismissed them for this stove, and in two or three years cleared the whole expense by the saving of fuel. The remarkable durability of this stove is another economic feature. For in addition to its fine castings and nice-fitting workmanship, all the parts liable to burn out are so protected by linings, and other contrivances easily renewed, that the stove itself may pass from one generation to another, as do ordinary chimneys. The writer has visited in families where this stove had been in constant use for eighteen and twenty years, and was still as good as new. In most other families the stoves are broken, burnt-out, or thrown aside for improved patterns every four, five, or six years, and sometimes, to the knowledge of the writer, still oftener. Another excellent point is that, although it is so complicated in its various contrivances as to demand intelligent management in order to secure all its advantages, it also can be used satisfactorily even when the mistress and maid are equally careless and ignorant of its distinctive merits. To such it offers all the advantages of ordinary good stoves, and is extensively used by those who take no pains to understand and apply its peculiar advantages. But the writer has managed the stove herself in all the details of cooking, and is confident that any housekeeper of common sense, who is instructed properly, and who also aims to have her kitchen affairs managed with strict economy, can easily train any servant who is willing to learn, so as to gain the full advantages offered. And even without any instructions at all, except the printed directions sent with the stove, an intelligent woman can, by due attention, though not without, both manage it, and teach her children and servants to do likewise. And whenever this stove has failed to give the highest satisfaction, it has been, either because the housekeeper was not apprized of its peculiarities, or because she did not give sufficient attention to the matter, or was not able or willing to superintend and direct its management. The consequence has been that, in families where this stove has been understood and managed aright, it has saved nearly one half of the fuel that would be used in ordinary stoves, constructed with the usual disregard of scientific and economic laws. And it is because we know this particular stove to be convenient, reliable, and economically efficient beyond ordinary experience, in the important housekeeping element of kitchen labor, that we devote to it so much space and pains to describe its advantageous points. CHIMNEYS. One of the most serious evils in domestic life is often found in chimneys that will not properly draw the smoke of a fire or stove. Although chimneys have been building for a thousand years, the artisans of the present day seem strangely ignorant of the true method of constructing them so as always to carry smoke upward instead of downward. It is rarely the case that a large house is built in which there is not some flue or chimney which "will not draw." One of the reasons why the stove described as excelling all others is sometimes cast aside for a poorer one is, that it requires a properly constructed chimney, and multitudes of women do not know how to secure it. The writer in early life shed many a bitter tear, drawn forth by smoke from an ill-constructed kitchen-chimney, and thousands all over the land can report the same experience. The following are some of the causes and the remedies for this evil. The most common cause of poor chimney draughts is too large an opening for the fireplace, either too wide or too high in front, or having too large a throat for the smoke. In a lower story, the fireplace should not be larger than thirty inches wide, twenty-five inches high, and fifteen deep. In the story above, it should be eighteen inches square and fifteen inches deep. Another cause is too short a flue, and the remedy is to lengthen it. As a general rule, the longer the flue the stronger the draught. But in calculating the length of a flue, reference must be had to side-flues, if any open into it. Where this is the case, the length of the main flue is to be considered as extending only from the bottom to the point where the upper flue joins it, and where the lower will receive air from the upper flue. If a smoky flue can not be increased in length, either by closing an upper flue or lengthening the chimney, the fireplace must be contracted so that all the air near the fire will be heated and thus pressed upward. If a flue has more than one opening, in some cases it is impossible to secure a good draught. Sometimes it will work well and sometimes it will not. The only safe rule is to have a separate flue to each fire. Another cause of poor draughts is too tight a room, so that the cold air from without can not enter to press the warm air up the chimney. The remedy is to admit a small current of air from without. Another cause is two chimneys in one room, or in rooms opening together, in which the draught in one is much stronger than in the other. In this case, the stronger draught will draw away from the weaker. The remedy is, for each room to have a proper supply of outside air; or, in a single room, to stop one of the chimneys. Another cause is the too close vicinity of a hill or buildings higher than the top of the chimney, and the remedy for this is to raise the chimney. Another cause is the descent, into unused fireplaces, of smoke from other chimneys near. The remedy is to close the throat of the unused chimney. Another cause is a door opening toward the fireplace, on the same side of the room, so that its draught passes along the wall and makes a current that draws out the smoke. The remedy is to change the hanging of the door so as to open another way. Another cause is strong winds. The remedy is a turn-cap on top of the chimney. Another cause is the roughness of the inside of a chimney, or projections which impede the passage of the smoke. Every chimney should be built of equal dimensions from bottom to top, with no projections into it, with as few bends as possible, and with the surface of the inside as smooth as possible. Another cause of poor draughts is openings into the chimney of chambers for stove-pipes. The remedy is to close them, or insert stove-pipes that are in use. Another cause is the falling out of brick in some part of the chimney so that outer air is admitted. The remedy is to close the opening. The draught of a stove may be affected by most of these causes. It also demands that the fireplace have a tight fire-board, or that the throat he carefully filled. For neglecting this, many a good stove has been thrown aside and a poor one taken in its place. If all young women had committed to memory these causes of evil and their remedies, many a badly-built chimney might have been cured, and many smoke-drawn tears, sighs, ill-tempers, and irritating words avoided. But there are dangers in this direction which demand special attention. Where one flue has two stoves or fireplaces, in rooms one above the other, in certain states of the atmosphere, the lower room, being the warmer, the colder air and carbonic acid in the room above will pass down into the lower room through the opening for the stove or the fireplace. This occurred not long since in a boarding-school, when the gas in a room above flowed into a lower one, and suffocated several to death. This room had no mode of ventilation, and several persons slept in it, and were thus stifled. Professor Brewer states a similar case in the family of a relative. An anthracite stove was used in the upper room; and on one still, close night, the gas from this stove descended through the flue and the opening into a room below, and stifled two persons to insensibility, though, by proper efforts, their lives were saved. Many such cases have occurred where rooms have been thus filled with poisonous gases, and servants and children destroyed, or their constitutions injured, simply because housekeepers are not properly instructed in this important branch of their profession. FURNACES. There is no improved mechanism in the economy of domestic life requiring more intelligent management than furnaces. Let us then consider some of the principles involved. The earth is heated by radiation from the sun. The air is not warmed by the passage of the sun's heat through it, but by convection from the earth, in the same way that it is warmed by the surfaces of stoves. The lower stratum of air is warmed by the earth and by objects which have been warmed by radiated heat from the sun. The particles of air thus heated expand, become lighter, and rise, being replaced by the descent of the cooler and heavier particles from above, which, on being warmed also rise, and give place to others. Owing to this process, the air is warmest nearest the earth, and grows cooler as height increases. The air has a strong attraction for water, and always holds a certain quantity as invisible vapor. The warmer the air, the more moisture it demands, and it will draw it from all objects within reach. The air holds water according to its temperature. Thus, at fifty-two degrees, Fahrenheit's thermometer, it holds half the moisture it can sustain; but at thirty-six degrees, it will hold only one eighty-sixth part. The earth and all plants and trees are constantly sending out moisture; and when the air has received all it can hold, without depositing it as dew, it is said to be _saturated_, and the point of temperature at which dew begins to form, by condensation, upon the surface of the earth and its vegetation, is called the _dew-point_. When air, at a given temperature, has only forty per cent of the moisture it requires for saturation, it is said to be dry. In a hot summer day, the air will hold far more moisture than in cool days. In summer, out-door air rarely holds less than half its volume of water. In 1838, at Cambridge, Massachusetts, and New-Haven, Connecticut, at seventy degrees, Fahrenheit, the air held eighty per cent of moisture. In New Orleans, the air often retains ninety per cent of the moisture it is capable of holding; and in cool days at the North, in foggy weather, the air is sometimes wholly saturated. When air holds all the moisture it can, without depositing dew, its moisture is called 100. When it holds three fourths of this, it is said to be at seventy-five per cent. When it holds only one half, it is at fifty per cent. When it holds only one fourth, it is at twenty-five per cent, etc. Sanitary observers teach that the proper amount of moisture in the air ranges from forty to seventy per cent of saturation. Now, furnaces, which are of course used only in winter, receive outside air at a low temperature, holding little moisture; This it sucks up, like a sponge, from the walls and furniture of a house. If it is taken into the human lungs, it draws much of its required moisture from the body, often causing dryness of lips and throat, and painfully affecting the lungs. Prof. Brewer, of the Scientific School of New-Haven, who has experimented extensively on this subject, states that, while forty per cent of moisture is needed in air to make it healthful, most stoves and furnaces do not, by any contrivances, supply one half of this, or not twenty per cent. He says most furnace-heated air is dryer than is ever breathed in the hottest deserts of Sahara. Thus, for want of proper instruction, most American housekeepers not only poison their families with carbonic acid and starve them for want of oxygen, but also diminish health and comfort for want of a due supply of moisture in the air. And often when a remedy is sought, by evaporating water in the furnace, it is without knowing that the amount evaporated depends, not on the quantity of water in the vessel, but on the extent of evaporating surface exposed to the air. A quart of water in a wide shallow pan will give more moisture than two gallons with a small surface exposed to heat. There is also no little wise economy in expense attained by keeping a proper supply of moisture in the air. For it is found that the body radiates its heat less in moist than in dry air, so that a person feels as warm at a lower temperature when the air has a proper supply of moisture, as in a much higher temperature of dry air. Of course, less fuel is needed to warm a house when water is evaporated in stove and furnace-heated rooms. It is said by those who have experimented, that the saving in fuel is twenty per cent when the air is duly supplied with moisture. There is a very ingenious instrument, called the hygrodeik, which indicates the exact amount of moisture in the air. It consists of two thermometers side by side, one of which has its bulb surrounded by floss-silk wrapping, which is kept constantly wet by communication with a cup of water near it. The water around the bulb evaporates just in proportion to the heat of the air around it. The changing of water to vapor draws heat from the nearest object, and this being the bulb of the thermometer, the mercury is cooled and sinks. Then the difference between the two thermometers shows the amount of moisture in the air by a pointer on a dial-plate constructed by simple mechanism for this purpose. There is one very important matter in regard to the use of furnaces, which is thus stated by Professor Brewer: "I think it is a well-established fact that carbonic oxide will pass through iron. It is always formed in great abundance in any _anthracite_ fire, but especially in anthracite stoves and furnaces. Moreover, furnaces _always_ leak, more or less; how much they leak depending on the care and skill with which they are managed. Carbonic oxide is much more poisonous than carbonic acid. Doubtless some carbonic oxide finds its way into all furnace-heated houses, especially where anthracite is used; the amount varying with the kind of furnace and its management. As to how much escapes into a room, and its specific effect upon the health of its occupants, we have no accurate data, no analysis to show the quantity, and no observations to show the relation between the quantity inhaled and the health of those exposed; all is mere conjecture upon this point; but the inference is very strong that it has a very injurious effect, producing headaches, weariness, and other similar symptoms. "Recent pamphlets lay the blame of all the bad effects of anthracite furnaces and stoves to the carbonic oxide mingled in the air. I think these pamphlets have a bad influence. _Excessive dryness_ also has bad effects. So also the excessive heat in the evenings and coolness in the mornings has a share in these evils. But how much in addition is owing to carbonic oxide, we can not know, until we know something of the actual amount of this gas in rooms, and as yet we know absolutely nothing definite. In fact, it will be a difficult thing to _prove_." There are other difficulties connected with furnaces which should be considered. It is necessary to perfect health that an equal circulation of the blood be preserved. The greatest impediment to this is keeping the head warmer than the feet. This is especially to be avoided in a nation where the brain is by constant activity drawing the blood from the extremities. And nowhere is this more important than in schools, churches, colleges, lecture and recitation-rooms, where the brain is called into active exercise. And yet, furnace-heated rooms always keep the feet in the coldest air, on cool floors, while the head is in the warmest air. Another difficulty is the fact that all bodies tend to radiate their heat to each other, till an equal temperature exists. Thus, the human body is constantly radiating its heat to the walls, floors, and cooler bodies around. At the same time, a thermometer is affected in the same way, radiating its heat to cooler bodies around, so that it always marks a lower degree of heat than actually exists in the warm air around it. Owing to these facts, the injected air of a furnace is always warmer than is good for the lungs, and much warmer than is ever needed in rooms warmed by radiation from fires or heated surfaces. The cooler the air we inspire, the more oxygen is received, the faster the blood circulates, and the greater is the vigor imparted to brain, nerves, and muscles. Scientific men have been contriving various modes of meeting these difficulties, and at the close of this volume some results will be given to aid a woman in selecting and managing the most healthful and economical furnace, or in providing some better method of warming a house. Some account will also be given of the danger involved in gas-stoves, and some other recent inventions for cooking and heating. VI. HOME DECORATION. Having duly arranged for the physical necessities of a healthful and comfortable home, we next approach the important subject of _beauty_ in reference to the decoration of houses. For while the aesthetic element must be subordinate to the requirements of physical existence, and, as a matter of expense, should be held of inferior consequence to means of higher moral growth; it yet holds a place of great significance among the influences which make home happy and attractive, which give it a constant and wholesome power over the young, and contributes much to the education of the entire household in refinement, intellectual development, and moral sensibility. Here we are met by those who tell us that of course they want their houses handsome, and that, when they get money enough, they intend to have them so, but at present they are too poor, and because they are poor they dismiss the subject altogether, and live without any regard to it. We have often seen people who said that they could not afford to make their houses beautiful, who had spent upon them, outside or in, an amount of money which did not produce either beauty or comfort, and which, if judiciously applied, might have made the house quite charming. For example, a man, in building his house, takes a plan of an architect. This plan includes, on the outside, a number of what Andrew Fairservice called "curlywurlies" and "whigmaliries," which make the house neither prettier nor more comfortable, and which take up a good deal of money. We would venture to say that we could buy the chromo of Bierstadt's "Sunset in the Yosemite Valley," and four others like it, for half the sum that we have sometimes seen laid out on a very ugly, narrow, awkward porch on the outside of a house. The only use of this porch was to cost money, and to cause every body who looked at it to exclaim as they went by, "What ever induced that man to put a thing like that on the outside of his house?" Then, again, in the inside of houses, we have seen a dwelling looking very bald and bare, when a sufficient sum of money had been expended on one article to have made the whole very pretty: and it has come about in this way. We will suppose the couple who own the house to be in the condition in which people generally are after they have built a house--having spent more than they could afford on the building itself, and yet feeling themselves under the necessity of getting some furniture. "Now," says the housewife, "I must at least have a parlor-carpet. We must get that to begin with, and other things as we go on." She goes to a store to look at carpets. The clerks are smiling and obliging, and sweetly complacent. The storekeeper, perhaps, is a neighbor or a friend, and after exhibiting various patterns, he tells her of a Brussels carpet he is selling wonderfully cheap--actually a dollar and a quarter less a yard than the usual price of Brussels, and the reason is that it is an unfashionable pattern, and he has a good deal of it, and wishes to close it off. She looks at it and thinks it is not at all the kind of carpet she meant to buy, but then it is Brussels, and so cheap! And as she hesitates, her friend tells her that she will find it "cheapest in the end--that one Brussels carpet will outlast three or four ingrains," etc., etc. The result of all this is, that she buys the Brussels carpet, which, with all its reduction in price, is one third dearer than the ingrain would have been, and not half so pretty. When she comes home, she will find that she has spent, we will say eighty dollars, for a very homely carpet whose greatest merit it is an affliction to remember--namely, that it will outlast three ordinary carpets. And because she has bought this carpet she can not afford to paper the walls or put up any window-curtains, and can not even begin to think of buying any pictures. Now let us see what eighty dollars could have done for that room. We will suppose, in the first place, she invests in thirteen rolls of wall-paper of a lovely shade of buff, which will make the room look sunshiny in the day-time, and light up brilliantly in the evening. Thirteen rolls of good satin paper, at thirty-seven cents a roll, expends four dollars and eighty-one cents. A maroon bordering, made in imitation of the choicest French style, which can not at a distance be told from it, can be bought for six cents a yard. This will bring the paper to about five dollars and a half; and our friends will give a day of their time to putting it on. The room already begins to look furnished. Then, let us cover the floor with, say, thirty yards of good matting, at fifty cents a yard. This gives us a carpet for fifteen dollars. We are here stopped by the prejudice that matting is not good economy, because it wears out so soon. We humbly submit that it is precisely the thing for a parlor, which is reserved for the reception-room of friends, and for our own dressed leisure hours. Matting is not good economy in a dining-room or a hard-worn sitting-room; but such a parlor as we are describing is precisely the place where it answers to the very best advantage. We have in mind one very attractive parlor which has been, both for summer and winter, the daily sitting-room for the leisure hours of a husband and wife, and family of children, where a plain straw matting has done service for seven years. That parlor is in a city, and these friends are in the habit of receiving visits from people who live upon velvet and Brussels; but they prefer to spend the money which such carpets would cost on other modes of embellishment; and this parlor has often been cited to us as a very attractive room. And now our friends, having got thus far, are requested to select some one tint or color which shall be the prevailing one in the furniture of the room. Shall it be green? Shall it be blue? Shall it be crimson? To carry on our illustration, we will choose green, and we proceed with it to create furniture for our room. Let us imagine that on one side of the fireplace there be, as there is often, a recess about six feet long and three feet deep. Fill this recess with a rough frame with four stout legs, one foot high, and upon the top of the frame have an elastic rack of slats. Make a mattress for this, or, if you wish to avoid that trouble, you can get a nice mattress for the sum of two dollars, made of cane-shavings or husks. Cover this with a green English furniture print. The glazed English comes at about twenty-five cents a yard, the glazed French at seventy-five cents a yard, and a nice article of yard-wide French twill (very strong) is from seventy-five to eighty cents a yard. With any of these cover your lounge. Make two large, square pillows of the same substance as the mattress, and set up at the back. If you happen to have one or two feather pillows that you can spare for the purpose, shake them down into a square shape and cover them with the same print, and you will then have for pillows for your lounge--one at each end, and two at the back, and you will find it answers for all the purposes of a sofa. [Illustration: Fig. 38.] It will be a very pretty thing, now, to cut out of the same material as your lounge, sets of lambrequins (or, as they are called, _lamberkins_,) a land of pendent curtain-top, as shown in the illustration, to put over the windows, which are to be embellished with white muslin curtains. The cornices to your windows can be simply strips of wood covered with paper to match the bordering of your room, and the lambrequins, made of chintz like the lounge, can be trimmed with fringe or gimp of the same color. The patterns of these can be varied according to fancy, but simple designs are usually the prettiest. A tassel at the lowest point improves the appearance. The curtains can be made of plain white muslin, or some of the many styles that come for this purpose. If plain muslin is used, you can ornament them with hems an inch in width, in which insert a strip of gingham or chambray of the same color as your chintz. This will wash with the curtains without losing its color, or should it fade, it can easily be drawn out and replaced. The influence of white-muslin curtains in giving an air of grace and elegance to a room is astonishing. White curtains really create a room out of nothing. No matter how coarse the muslin, so it be white and hang in graceful folds, there is a charm in it that supplies the want of multitudes of other things. Very pretty curtain-muslin can be bought at thirty-seven cents a yard. It requires six yards for a window. Let your men-folk knock up for you, out of rough, unplaned boards, some ottoman frames, as described in Chapter II; stuff the tops with just the same material as the lounge, and cover them with the self-same chintz. [Illustration: Fig. 39.] Now you have, suppose your selected color to be green, a green lounge in the corner and two green ottomans; you have white muslin curtains, with green lambrequins and borders, and your room already looks furnished. If you have in the house any broken-down arm-chair, reposing in the oblivion of the garret, draw it out--drive a nail here and there to hold it firm--stuff and pad, and stitch the padding through with a long upholsterer's needle, and cover it with the chintz like your other furniture. Presto--you create an easy-chair. Thus can broken and disgraced furniture reappear, and, being put into uniform with the general suit of your room, take a new lease of life. If you want a centre-table, consider this--that any kind of table, well concealed beneath the folds of _handsome drapery of a color corresponding to the general hue of the room,_ will look well. Instead of going to the cabinet-maker and paying from thirty to forty dollars upon a little, narrow, cold, marble-topped stand, that gives just room enough to hold a lamp and a book or two, reflect within yourself what a centre-table is made for. If you have in your house a good, broad, generous-topped table, take it, cover it with an ample cloth of green broadcloth. Such a cover, two and a half yards square, of fine green broadcloth, figured with black and with a pattern-border of grape-leaves, has been bought for ten dollars. In a room we wot of, it covers a cheap pine table, such as you may buy for four or five dollars any day; but you will be astonished to see how handsome an object this table makes under its green drapery. Probably you could make the cover more cheaply by getting the cloth and trimming its edge with a handsome border, selected for the purpose; but either way, it will be an economical and useful ornament. We set down our centre-table, therefore, as consisting mainly of a nice broadcloth cover, matching our curtains and lounge. We are sure that any one with "a heart that is humble" may command such a centre-table and cloth for fifteen dollars or less, and a family of five or six may all sit and work, or read, or write around it, and it is capable of entertaining a generous allowance of books and knick-knacks. You have now for your parlor the following figures: Wall-paper and border,.................................... $5.50 Thirty yards matting,..................................... 15.00 Centre-table and cloth,................................... 15.00 Muslin for three windows,.................................. 6.75 Thirty yards green English chintz, at 25 cents,............ 7.50 Six chairs, at $2 each,................................... 12.00 Total,....................................................$61.75 Subtracted from eighty dollars, which we set down as the price of the cheap, ugly Brussels carpet, we have our whole room papered, carpeted, curtained, and furnished, and we have nearly twenty dollars remaining for pictures. As a little suggestion in regard to the selection, you can got Miss Oakley's charming little cabinet picture of "The Little Scrap-Book Maker" for........................ $7 50 Eastman Johnson's "Barefoot Boy,"................. (Prang) 5 00 Newman's "Blue-fringed Gentians,"..................(Prang) 6 00 Bierstadt's "Sunset in the Yo Semite Valley,"......(Prang)12 00 Here are thirty dollars' worth of really admirable pictures of some of our best American artists, from which you can choose at your leisure. By sending to any leading picture-dealer, lists of pictures and prices will be forwarded to you. These chromos, being all varnished, can wait for frames until you can afford them. Or, what is better, because it is at once cheaper and a means of educating the ingenuity and the taste, you can make for yourselves pretty rustic frames in various modes. Take a very thin board, of the right size and shape, for the foundation or "mat;" saw out the inner oval or rectangular form to suit the picture. Nail on the edge a rustic frame made of branches of hard, seasoned wood, and garnish the corners with some pretty device; such, for instance, as a cluster of acorns; or, in place of the branches of trees, fasten on with glue small pine cones, with larger ones for corner ornaments. Or use the mosses of the wood or ocean shells for this purpose. It may be more convenient to get the mat or inner moulding from a framer, or have it made by your carpenter, with a groove behind to hold a glass. Here are also picture-frames of pretty effect, and very simply made. The one in Fig. 42 is made of either light or dark wood, neat, thin, and not very wide, with the ends simply broken, off, or cut so as to resoluble a rough break. The other is white pine, sawn into simple form, well smoothed, and marked with a delicate black tracery, as suggested in Fig. 43. This should also be varnished, then it will take a rich, yellow tinge, which harmonizes admirably with chromos, and lightens up engravings to singular advantage. Besides the American and the higher range of German and English chromos, there are very many pretty little French chromos, which can be had at prices from $1 to $5, including black walnut frames. [Illustration: Fig. 40] [Illustration: Fig. 41] [Illustration: Fig. 42] [Illustration: Fig. 43] We have been through this calculation merely to show our readers how much beautiful effect may be produced by a wise disposition of color and skill in arrangement. If any of our friends should ever carry it out, they will find that the buff paper, with its dark, narrow border; the green chintz repeated in the lounge, the ottomans, and lambrequins; the flowing, white curtains; the broad, generous centre-table, draped with its ample green cloth, will, when arranged together, produce an effect of grace and beauty far beyond what any one piece or even half a dozen pieces of expensive cabinet furniture could. The great, simple principle of beauty illustrated in this room is _harmony of color_. You can, in the same way, make a red room by using Turkey red for your draperies; or a blue room by using blue chintz. Let your chintz be of a small pattern, and one that is decided in color. We have given the plan of a room with matting on the floor because that is absolutely the cheapest cover. The price of thirty yards plain, good ingrain carpet, at $1.50 per yard, would be forty-five dollars; the difference between forty-five and fifteen dollars would _furnish_ a room with pictures such as we have instanced. However, the same programme can be even better carried out with a green ingrain carpet as the foundation of the color of the room. Our friends, who lived seven years upon matting, contrived to give their parlor in winter an effect of warmth and color by laying down, in front of the fire, a large square of carpeting, say three breadths, four yards long. This covered the gathering-place around the fire where the winter circle generally sits, and gave an appearance of warmth to the room. If we add this piece of carpeting to the estimates for our room, we still leave a margin for a picture, and make the programme equally adapted to summer and winter. Besides the chromos, which, when well selected and of the best class, give the charm of color which belongs to expensive paintings, there are engravings which finely reproduce much of the real spirit and beauty of the celebrated pictures of the world. And even this does not exhaust the resources of economical art; for there are few of the renowned statues, whether of antiquity or of modern times, that have not been accurately copied in plaster casts; and a few statuettes, costing perhaps five or six dollars each, will give a really elegant finish to your rooms-providing always that they are selected with discrimination and taste. The educating influence of these works of art can hardly be over- estimated. Surrounded by such suggestions of the beautiful, and such reminders of history and art, children are constantly trained to correctness of tote and refinement of thought, and stimulated--sometimes to efforts at artistic imitation, always to the eager and intelligent inquiry about the scenes, the places, the incidents represented. Just here, perhaps, we are met by some who grant all that we say on the subject of decoration by works of art, and who yet impatiently exclaim, "But I have _no_ money to spare for any thing of this sort. I am condemned to an absolute bareness, and beauty in my case is not to be thought of." Are you sure, my friend? If you live in the country, or can get into the country, and have your eyes opened and your wits about you, your house need not be condemned to an absolute bareness. Not so long as the woods are full of beautiful ferns and mosses, while every swamp shakes and nods with tremulous grasses, need you feel yourself an utterly disinherited child of nature, and deprived of its artistic use. For example: Take an old tin pan condemned to the retired list by reason of holes in the bottom, get twenty-five cents' worth of green paint for this and other purposes, and paint it. The holes in the bottom are a recommendation for its new service. If there are no holes, you must drill two or three, as drainage is essential. Now put a layer one inch deep of broken charcoal and potsherds over the bottom, and then soil, in the following proportions: Two fourths wood-soil, such as you find in forests, under trees. One fourth clean sand. One fourth meadow-soil, taken from under fresh turf. Mix with this some charcoal dust. In this soil plant all sorts of ferns, together with some few swamp-grasses; and around the edge put a border of money-plant or periwinkle to hang over. This will need to be watered once or twice a week, and it will grow and thrive all summer long in a corner of your room. Should you prefer, you can suspend it by wires and make a hanging-basket.--Ferns and wood-grasses need not have sunshine--they grow well in shadowy places. On this same principle you can convert a salt-box or an old drum of figs into a hanging-basket. Tack bark and pine-cones and moss upon the outside of it, drill holes and pass wires through it, and you have a woodland hanging-basket, which will hang and grow in any corner of your house. We have been into rooms which, by the simple disposition of articles of this kind, have been made to have an air so poetical and attractive that they seemed more like a nymph's cave than any thing in the real world. [Illustration: Fig. 44.] Another mode of disposing of ferns is this: Take a flat piece of board sawed out something like a shield, with a hole at the top for hanging it up. Upon the board nail a wire pocket made of an ox-muzzle flattened on one side; or make something of the kind with stiff wire. Line this with a sheet of close moss, which appears green behind the wire net-work. Then you fill it with loose, spongy moss, such as you find in swamps, and plant therein great plumes of fern and various swamp-grasses; they will continue to grow there, and hang gracefully over. When watering, set a pail under for it to drip into. It needs only to keep this moss always damp, and to sprinkle these ferns occasionally with a whisk-broom, to have a most lovely ornament for your room or hall. The use of ivy in decorating a room is beginning to be generally acknowledged. It needs to be planted in the kind of soil we have described, in a well-drained pot or box, and to have its leaves thoroughly washed once or twice a year in strong suds made with soft-soap, to free it from dust and scale-bug; and an ivy will live and thrive and wind about in a room, year in and year out, will grow around pictures, and do almost any thing to oblige you that you can suggest to it. For instance, in a March number of _Hearth and Home_, [Footnote: A beautifully illustrated agricultural and family weekly paper, edited by Donald G. Mitchell(Ik Marvel) and Mrs. H. B. Stowe,] there is a picture of the most delightful library-window imaginable, whose chief charm consists in the running vines that start from a longitudinal box at the bottom of the window, and thence clamber up and about the casing and across the rustic frame-work erected for its convenience. On the opposite page we present another plain kind of window, ornamented with a variety of these rural economical adornings. [Illustration: Fig. 45.] In the centre is a Ward's case. On one side is a pot of _Fuchsia_. On the other side is a Calla Lily. In the hanging-baskets and on the brackets are the ferns and flowers that flourish in the deep woods, and around the window is the ivy, running from two boxes; and, in case the window has some sun, a _Nasturtium_ may spread its bright blossoms among the leaves. Then, in the winter, when there is less sun, the _Striped Spider-wort_, the _Smilax_ and the _Saxifraga_. _Samantosa_ (or _Wandering Jew_) may be substituted. Pretty brackets can be made of common pine, ornamented with odd-growing twigs or mosses or roots, scraped and varnished, or in their native state. A beautiful ornament for a room with pictures is German ivy. Slips of this will start without roots in bottles of water. Slide the bottle behind the picture, and the ivy will seem to come from fairyland, and hang its verdure in all manner of pretty curves around the picture. It may then be trained to travel toward other ivy, and thus aid in forming green cornice along the ceiling. We have seen some rooms that had an ivy cornice around the whole, giving the air of a leafy bower. There are some other odd devices to ornament a room. For example, a sponge, kept wet by daily immersion, can be filled with flax-seed and suspended by a cord, when it will ere long be covered with verdure and afterward with flowers. A sweet potato, laid in a bowl of water on a bracket, or still better, suspended by a knitting-needle, run through or laid across the bowl half in the water, will, in due time, make a beautiful verdant ornament. A large carrot, with the smallest half cut off, scooped out to hold water and then suspended with cords, will send out graceful shoots in rich profusion. Half a cocoa-nut shell, suspended, will hold earth or water for plants and make a pretty hanging-garden. It may be a very proper thing to direct the ingenuity and activity of children into the making of hanging-baskets and vases of rustic work. The best foundations are the cheap wooden bowls, which are quite easy to get, and the walks of children in the woods can be made interesting by their bringing home material for this rustic work. Different colored twigs and sprays of trees, such as the bright scarlet of the dog-wood, the yellow of the willow, the black of the birch, and the silvery gray of the poplar, may be combined in fanciful net-work. For this sort of work, no other investment is needed than a hammer and an assortment of different-sized tacks, and beautiful results will be produced. Fig. 46 is a stand for flowers, made of roots, scraped and varnished. But the greatest and cheapest and most delightful fountain of beauty is a "Ward case." [Illustration: Fig 46.] Now, immediately all our economical friends give up in despair. Ward's cases sell all the way along from eighteen to fifty dollars, and are, like every thing else in this lower world, regarded as the sole perquisites of the rich. Let us not be too sure. Plate-glass, and hot-house plants, and rare patterns, _are_ the especial inheritance of the rich; but any family may command all the requisites of a Ward case for a very small sum. Such a case is a small glass closet over a well-drained box of soil. You make a Ward case on a small scale when you turn a tumbler over a plant. The glass keeps the temperature moist and equable, and preserves the plants from dust, and the soil being well drained, they live and thrive accordingly. The requisites of these are the glass top and the bed of well-drained soil. Suppose you have a common cheap table, four feet long and two wide. Take off the top boards of your table, and with them board the bottom across tight and firm; then line it with zinc, and you will have a sort of box or sink on legs. Now make a top of common window-glass such as you would get for a cucumber-frame; let it be two and a half feet high, with a ridge-pole like a house, and a slanting roof of glass resting on this ridge-pole; on one end let there be a door two feet square. [Illustration: Fig. 47.] We have seen a Ward case made in this way, in which the capabilities for producing ornamental effect were greatly beyond many of the most elaborate ones of the shops. It was large, and roomy, and cheap. Common window-sash and glass are not dear, and any man with moderate ingenuity could fashion such a glass closet for his wife; or a woman, not having such a husband, can do it herself. The sink or box part must have in the middle of it a hole of good size for drainage. In preparing for the reception of plants, first turn a plant-saucer over this hole, which may otherwise become stopped. Then, as directed for the other basket, proceed with a layer of broken charcoal and pot-sherds for drainage, two inches deep, and prepare the soil as directed above, and add to it some pounded charcoal, or the scrapings of the charcoal-bin. In short, more or less charcoal and charcoal-dust is always in order in the treatment of these moist subjects, as it keeps them from fermenting and growing sour. Now for filling the case. Our own native forest-ferns have a period in the winter months when they cease to grow. They are very particular in asserting their right to this yearly nap, and will not, on any consideration, grow for you out of their appointed season. Nevertheless, we shall tell you what we have tried ourselves, because greenhouse ferns are expensive, and often great cheats when you have bought them, and die on your hands in the most reckless and shameless manner. If you make a Ward case in the spring, your ferns will grow beautifully in it all summer; and in the autumn, though they stop growing, and cease to throw out leaves, yet the old leaves will remain fresh and green till the time for starting the new ones in the spring. But, supposing you wish to start your case in the fall, out of such things as you can find in the forest; by searching carefully the rocks and clefts and recesses of the forest, you can find a quantity of beautiful ferns whose leaves the frost has not yet assailed. Gather them carefully, remembering that the time of the plant's sleep has come, and that you must make the most of the leaves it now has, as you will not have a leaf more from it till its waking-up time in February or March. But we have succeeded, and you will succeed, in making a very charming and picturesque collection. You can make in your Ward case lovely little grottoes with any bits of shells, and minerals, and rocks you may have; you can lay down, here and there, fragments of broken looking-glass for the floor of your grottoes, and the effect of them will be magical. A square of looking-glass introduced into the back side of your case will produce charming effects. The trailing arbutus or May-flower, if cut up carefully in sods, and put into this Ward case, will come into bloom there a month sooner than it otherwise would, and gladden your eyes and heart. In the fall, if you can find the tufts of eye-bright or houstonia cerulia, and mingle them in with your mosses, you will find them blooming before winter is well over. But among the most beautiful things for such a case is the partridge-berry, with its red plums. The berries swell and increase in the moist atmosphere, and become intense in color, forming an admirable ornament. Then the ground pine, the princess pine, and various nameless pretty things of the woods, all flourish in these little conservatories. In getting your sod of trailing arbutus, remember that this plant forms its buds in the fall. You must, therefore, examine your sod carefully, and see if the buds are there; otherwise you will find no blossoms in the spring. There are one or two species of violets, also, that form their buds in the fall, and these too, will blossom early for you. We have never tried the wild anemones, the crowfoot, etc.; but as they all do well in moist, shady places, we recommend hopefully the experiment of putting some of them in. A Ward case has this recommendation over common house-plants, that it takes so little time and care. If well made in the outset, and thoroughly drenched with water when the plants are first put in, it will after that need only to be watered about once a month, and to be ventilated by occasionally leaving open the door for a half-hour or hour when the moisture obscures the glass and seems in excess. To women embarrassed with the care of little children, yet longing for the refreshment of something growing and beautiful, this indoor garden will be an untold treasure. The glass defends the plant from the inexpedient intermeddling of little fingers; while the little eyes, just on a level with the panes of glass, can look through and learn to enjoy the beautiful, silent miracles of nature. For an invalid's chamber, such a case would be an indescribable comfort. It is, in fact, a fragment of the green woods brought in and silently growing; it will refresh many a weary hour to watch it. VII. THE CARE OF HEALTH. There is no point where a woman is more liable to suffer from a want of knowledge and experience than in reference to the health of a family committed to her care. Many a young lady who never had any charge of the sick; who never took any care of an infant; who never obtained information on these subjects from books, or from the experience of others; in short, with little or no preparation, has found herself the principal attendant in dangerous sickness, the chief nurse of a feeble infant, and the responsible guardian of the health of a whole family. The care, the fear, the perplexity of a woman suddenly called to these unwonted duties, none can realize till they themselves feel it, or till they see some young and anxious novice first attempting to meet such responsibilities. To a woman of age and experience these duties often involve a measure of trial and difficulty at times deemed almost insupportable; how hard, then, must they press on the heart of the young and inexperienced! There is no really efficacious mode of preparing a woman to take a rational care of the health of a family, except by communicating that knowledge in regard to the construction of the body and the laws of health which is the basis of the medical profession. Not that a woman should undertake the minute and extensive investigation requisite for a physician; but she should gain a general knowledge of first principles, as a guide to her judgment in emergencies when she can rely on no other aid. With this end in view, in the preceding chapters some portions of the organs and functions of the human body have been presented, and others will now follow in connection with the practical duties which result from them. On the general subject of health, one recent discovery of science may here be introduced as having an important relation to every organ and function of the body, and as being one to which frequent reference will be made; and that is, the nature and operation of _cell-life_. By the aid of the microscope, we can examine the minute construction of plants and animals, in which we discover contrivances and operations, if not so sublime, yet more wonderful and interesting, than the vast systems of worlds revealed by the telescope. By this instrument it is now seen that the first formation, as well as future changes and actions, of all plants and animals are accomplished by means of small cells or bags containing various kinds of liquids. These cells are so minute that, of the smallest, some hundreds would not cover the dot of a printed _i_ on this page. They are of diverse shapes and contents, and perform various different operations. [Illustration: Fig 48.] The first formation of every animal is accomplished by the agency of cells, and may be illustrated by the egg of any bird or fowl. The exterior consists of a hard shell for protection, and this is lined with a tough skin, to which is fastened the yelk, (which means the _yellow_,) by fibrous strings, as seen at _a_, _a_, in the diagram. In the yelk floats the germ-cell, _b_, which is the point where the formation of the future animal commences. The yelk, being lighter than the white, rises upward, and the germ being still lighter, rises in the yelk. This is to bring both nearer to the vitalizing warmth of the brooding mother. New cells are gradually formed from the nourishing yelk around the germ, each being at first roundish in shape, and having a spot near the centre, called the nucleus. The reason why cells increase must remain a mystery, until we can penetrate the secrets of vital force--probably forever. But the mode in which they multiply is as follows: The first change noticed in a cell, when warmed into vital activity, is the appearance of a second nucleus within it, while the cell gradually becomes oval in form, and then is drawn inward at the middle, like an hour-glass, till the two sides meet. The two portions then divide, and two cells appear, each containing its own germinal nucleus. These both divide again in the same manner, proceeding in the ratio of 2, 4, 8, 16, and so on, until most of the yelk becomes a mass of cells. The central point of this mass, where the animal itself commences to appear, shows, first, a round-shaped figure, which soon assumes form like a pear, and then like a violin. Gradually the busy little cells arrange themselves to build up heart, lungs, brain, stomach, and limbs, for which the yelk and white furnish nutriment. There is a small bag of air fastened to one end inside of the shell; and when the animal is complete, this air is taken into its lungs, life begins, and out walks little chick, all its powers prepared, and ready to run, eat, and enjoy existence. Then, as soon as the animal uses its brain to think and feel, and its muscles to move, the cells which have been made up into these parts begin to decay, while new cells are formed from the blood to take their place. Time with life commences the constant process of decay and renewal all over the body. [Illustration: Fig. 49.] The liquid portion of the blood consists of material formed from food, air, and water. From this material the cells of the blood are formed: first, the white cells, which are incomplete in formation; and then the red cells, which are completed by the addition of the oxygen received from air in the lungs. Fig. 49 represents part of a magnified blood-vessel, _a_, _a_, in which the round cells are the white, and the oblong the red cells, floating in the blood. Surrounding the blood- vessels are the cells forming the adjacent membrane, _bb_, each having a nucleus in its centre. Cells have different powers of selecting and secreting diverse materials from the blood. Thus, some secrete bile to carry to the liver, others secrete saliva for the mouth, others take up the tears, and still others take material for the brain, muscles, and all other organs. Cells also have a converting power, of taking one kind of matter from the blood, and changing it to another kind. They are minute chemical laboratories all over the body, changing materials of one kind to another form in which they can be made useful. Both animal and vegetable substances are formed of cells. But the vegetable cells take up and use unorganized or simple, natural matter; whereas the animal cell only takes substances already organized into vegetable or animal life, and then changes one compound into another of different proportions and nature. These curious facts in regard to cell-life have important relations to the general subject of the care of health, and also to the cure of disease, as will be noticed in following chapters. THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. There is another portion of the body, which is so intimately connected with every other that it is placed in this chapter as also having reference to every department in the general subject of the care of health. The body has no power to move itself, but is a collection of instruments to be used by the mind in securing various kinds of knowledge and enjoyment. The organs through which the mind thus operates are the _brain_ and _nerves_. The drawing (Fig. 50) represents them. [Illustration: Fig. 50.] The brain lies in the skull, and is divided into the large or upper brain, marked 1, and the small or lower brain, marked 2. From the brain runs the spinal marrow through the spine or backbone. From each side of the spine the large nerves run out into innumerable smaller branches to every portion of the body. The drawing shows only some of the larger branches. Those marked 3 run to the neck and organs of the chest; those marked 4 go to the arms; those below the arms, marked 3, go to the trunk; and those marked 5 go to the legs. The brain and nerves consist of two kinds of nervous matter--the _gray_, which is supposed to be the portion that originates and controls a nervous fluid which imparts power of action; and the _white_, which seems to conduct this fluid to every part of the body. The brain and nervous system are divided into distinct portions, each having different offices to perform, and each acting independently of the others; as, for example, one portion is employed by the mind in thinking, and in feeling pleasurable or painful mental emotions; another in moving the muscles; while the nerves that run to the nose, ears, eyes, tongue, hands, and surface generally, are employed in seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling all physical sensations. The _back_ portion of the spinal marrow and the nerves that run from it are employed in _sensation_, or the _sense of feeling_. These nerves extend over the whole body, but are largely developed in the network of nerves in the skin. The _front_ portion of the spinal marrow and its branches are employed in moving those muscles in all parts of the body which are controlled by the _will_ or _choice_ of the mind. These are called the _nerves of motion_. The nerves of sensation and nerves of motion, although they start from different portions of the spine, are united in the same _sheath_ or _cover_, till they terminate in the muscles. Thus, every muscle is moved by nerves of motion; while alongside of this nerve, in the same sheath, is a nerve of sensation. All the nerves of motion and sensation are connected with those portions of the brain used when we think, feel, and choose. By this arrangement the mind _knows_ what is wanted in all parts of the body by means of the nerves of sensation, and then it _acts_ by means of the nerves of motion. For example, when we feel the cold air on the skin, the nerves of sensation report to the brain, and thus to the mind, that the body is growing cold. The mind thus knows that more clothing is needed, and _wills_ to have the eyes look for it, and the hands and feet move to get it. This is done by the nerves of sight and of motion. Next are the nerves of _involuntary motion_, which move all those parts of the head, face, and body that are used in breathing, and in other operations connected with it. By these we continue to breathe when asleep, and whether we will to do so or not. There are also some of the nerves of voluntary motion that are mixed with these, which enable the mind to stop respiration, or to regulate it to a certain extent. But the mind has no power to stop it for any great length of time. There is another large and important system of nerves called the _sympathetic_ or _ganglionic_ system. It consists of small masses of gray and white nervous matter, that seem to be small brains with nerves running from them. These are called _ganglia_, and are arranged on each side of the spine, while small nerves from the spinal marrow run into them, thus uniting the sympathetic system with the nerves of the spine. These ganglia are also distributed around in various parts of the interior of the body, especially in the intestines, and all the different ganglia are connected with each other by nerves, thus making one system. It is the ganglionic system that carries on the circulation of the blood, the action of the capillaries, lymphatics, arteries, and veins, together with the work of secretion, absorption, and most of the internal working of the body, which goes forward without any knowledge or control of the mind. Every portion of the body has nerves of sensation coming from the spine, and also branches of the sympathetic or ganglionic system. The object of this is to form a sympathetic communication between the several parts of the body, and also to enable the mind to receive, through the brain, some general knowledge of the state of the whole system. It is owing to this that, when one portion of the body is affected, other portions sympathize. For example, if one part of the body is diseased, the stomach may so sympathize as to lose all appetite until the disease is removed. All the operations of the nervous system are performed by the influence of the nervous fluid, which is generated in the gray portions of the brain and ganglia. Whenever a nerve is cut off from its connection with these nervous centres, its power is gone, and the part to which it ministered becomes lifeless and incapable of motion. The brain and nerves can be overworked, and can also suffer for want of exercise, just as the muscles do. It is necessary for the perfect health of the brain and nerves that the several portions he exercised sufficiently, and that no part be exhausted by over-action. For example, the nerves of sensation may be very much exercised, and the nerves of motion have but little exercise. In this ease, one will be weakened by excess of work, and the other by the want of it. It is found by experience that the proper exercise of the nerves of motion tends to reduce any extreme susceptibility of the nerves of sensation. On the contrary, the neglect of such exercise tends to produce an excessive sensibility in the nerves of sensation. Whenever that part of the brain which is employed in thinking, feeling, and willing, is greatly exercised by hard study, or by excessive care or emotion, the blood tends to the brain to supply it with increased nourishment, just as it flows to the muscles when they are exercised. Over-exercise of this portion of the brain causes engorgement of the blood-vessels. This is sometimes indicated by pain, or by a sense of fullness in the head; but oftener the result is a debilitating drain on the nervous system, which depends for its supply on the healthful state of the brain. The brain has, as it were, a fountain of supply for the nervous fluid, which flows to all the nerves, and stimulates them to action. Some brains have a larger, and some a smaller fountain; so that a degree of mental activity that would entirely exhaust one, would make only a small and healthful drain upon another. The excessive use of certain portions of the brain tends to withdraw the nervous energy from other portions; so that when one part is debilitated by excess, another fails by neglect. For example, a person may so exhaust the brain power in the excessive use of the nerves of motion by hard work, as to leave little for any other faculty. On the other hand, the nerves of feeling and thinking may be so used as to withdraw the nervous fluid from the nerves of motion, and thus debilitate the muscles. Some animal propensities may be indulged to such excess as to produce a constant tendency of the blood to a certain portion of the brain, and to the organs connected with it, and thus cause a constant and excessive excitement, which finally becomes a disease. Sometimes a paralysis of this portion of the brain results from such an entire exhaustion of the nervous fountain and of the overworked nerves. Thus, also, the thinking portion of the brain may be so overworked as to drain the nervous fluid from other portions, which become debilitated by the loss. And in this way, also, the overworked portion may be diseased or paralyzed by the excess. The necessity for the _equal development_ of all portions of the brain by an appropriate exercise of _all_ the faculties of mind and body, and the influence of this upon happiness, is the most important portion of this subject, and will be more directly exhibited in another chapter. VIII. DOMESTIC EXERCISE. In a work which aims to influence women to train the young to honor domestic labor and to seek healthful exercise in home pursuits, there is special reason for explaining the construction of the muscles and their connection with the nerves, these being the chief organs of motion. The muscles, as seen by the naked eye, consist of very fine fibres or strings, bound up in smooth, silky casings of thin membrane. But each of these visible fibres or strings the microscope shows to be made up of still finer strings, numbering from five to eight hundred in each fibre. And each of these microscopic fibres is a series or chain of elastic cells, which are so minute that one hundred thousand would scarcely cover a capital O on this page. [Illustration: Fig. 51.] [Illustration: Fig. 52.] The peculiar property of the cells which compose the muscles is their elasticity, no other cells of the body having this property. At Fig. 51 is a diagram representing a microscopic muscular fibre, in which the cells are relaxed, as in the natural state of rest. But when the muscle contracts, each of its numberless cells in all its small fibres becomes widened, making each fibre of the muscle shorter and thicker, as at Fig. 52. This explains the cause of the swelling out of muscles when they act. Every motion in every part of the body has a special muscle to produce it, and many have other muscles to restore the part moved to its natural state. The muscles that move or bend any part are called _flexors_, and those that restore the natural position are called _extensors_. [Illustration: Fig. 53] Fig. 53 represents the muscles of the arm after the skin and flesh are removed. They are all in smooth silky cases, laid over each other, and separated both by the smooth membranes that encase them and by layers of fat, so as to move easily without interfering with each other. They are fastened to the bones by strong tendons and cartilages; and around the wrist, in the drawing, is shown a band of cartilage to confine them in place. The muscle marked 8 is the extensor that straightens the fingers after they have been closed by a flexor the other side of the arm. In like manner, each motion of the arm and fingers has one muscle to produce it and another to restore to the natural position. The muscles are dependent on the brain and nerves for power to move. It has been shown that the gray matter of the brain and spinal marrow furnishes the stimulating power that moves the muscles, and causes sensations of touch on the skin, and the other sensations of the several senses. The white part of the brain and spinal marrow consists solely of conducting tubes to transmit this influence. Each of the minute fibrils of the muscles has a small conducting nerve connecting it with the brain or spinal marrow, and in this respect each muscular fibril is separate from every other. When, therefore, the mind wills to move a flexor muscle of the arm, the gray matter sends out the stimulus through the nerves to the cells of each individual fibre of that muscle, and they contract. When this is done, the nerve of sensation reports it to the brain and mind. If the mind desires to return the arm to its former position, then follows the willing, and consequent stimulus sent through the nerves to the corresponding muscle; its cells contract, and the limb is restored. When the motion is a compound one, involving the action of several muscles at the same time, a multitude of impressions are sent back and forth to and from the brain through the nerves. But the person acting thus is unconscious of all this delicate and wonderful mechanism. He wills the movement, and instantly the requisite nervous power is sent to the required cells and fibres, and they perform the motions required. Many of the muscles are moved by the sympathetic system, over which the mind has but little control. Among the muscles and nerves so intimately connected, run the minute capillaries of the blood, which furnish nourishment to all. [Illustration: Fig. 54] Fig. 54 represents an artery a _a_, which brings pure blood to a muscle from the heart. After meandering through the capillaries at _c_, to distribute oxygen and food from the stomach, the blood enters the vein, _b_, loaded with carbonic acid and water taken up in the capillaries, to be carried to the lungs or skin, and thrown out into the air. The manner in which the exercise of the muscles quickens the circulation of the blood will now be explained. The veins abound in every part of every muscle, and the large veins have _valves_ which prevent the blood from flowing backward. If the wrist is grasped tightly, the veins of the hand are immediately swollen. This is owing to the fact that the blood is prevented from flowing toward the heart by this pressure, and by the vein-valves from returning into the arteries; while the arteries themselves, being placed deeper down, are not so compressed, and continue to send the blood into the hand, and thus it accumulates. As soon as this pressure is removed, the blood springs onward from the restraint with accelerated motion. This same process takes place when any of the muscles are exercised. The contraction of any muscle presses some of the veins, so that the blood can not flow the natural way, while the valves in the veins prevent its flowing backward. Meantime the arteries continue to press the blood along until the veins become swollen. Then, as soon as the muscle ceases its contraction, the blood flows faster from the previous accumulation. If, then, we use a number of muscles, and use them strongly and quickly, there are so many veins affected in this way as to quicken the whole circulation. The heart receives blood faster, and sends it to the lungs faster. Then the lungs work quicker, to furnish the oxygen required by the greater amount of blood. The blood returns with greater speed to the heart, and the heart sends it out with quicker action through the arteries to the capillaries. In the capillaries, too, the decayed matter is carried off faster, and then the stomach calls for more food to furnish new and pure blood. Thus it is that exercise gives new life and nourishment to every part of the body. It is the universal law of the human frame that _exercise_ is indispensable to the health of the several parts. Thus, if a blood-vessel be tied up, so as not to be used, it shrinks, and becomes a useless string; if a muscle be condemned to inaction, it shrinks in size and diminishes in power; and thus it is also with the bones. Inactivity produces softness, debility, and unfitness for the functions they are designed to perform. Now, the nerves, like all other parts of the body, gain and lose strength according as they are exercised. If they have too much or too little exercise, they lose strength; if they are exercised to a proper degree, they gain strength. When the mind is continuously excited, by business, study, or the imagination, the nerves of emotion and sensation are kept in constant action, while the nerves of motion are unemployed. If this is continued for a long time, the nerves of sensation lose their strength from over-action, and the nerves of motion lose their power from inactivity. In consequence, there is a morbid excitability of the nervous, and a debility of the muscular system, which make all exertion irksome and wearisome. The only mode of preserving the health of these systems is to keep up in them an equilibrium of action. For this purpose, occupations must be sought which exercise the muscles and interest the mind; and thus the equal action of both kinds of nerves is secured. This shows why exercise is so much more healthful and invigorating when the mind is interested, than when it is not. As an illustration, let a person go shopping with a friend, and have nothing to do but look on. How soon do the continuous walking and standing weary! But, suppose one, thus wearied, hears of the arrival of a very dear friend: she can instantly walk off a mile or two to meet her, without the least feeling of fatigue. By this is shown the importance of furnishing, for young persons, exercise in which they will take an interest. Long and formal walks, merely for exercise, though they do some good, in securing fresh air, and some exercise of the muscles, would be of triple benefit if changed to amusing sports, or to the cultivation of fruits and flowers, in which it is impossible to engage without acquiring a great interest. It shows, also, why it is far better to trust to useful domestic exercise at home than to send a young person out to walk for the mere purpose of exercise. Young girls can seldom be made to realize the value of health, and the need of exercise to secure it, so as to feel much interest in walking abroad, when they have no other object. But, if they are brought up to minister to the comfort and enjoyment of themselves and others, by performing domestic duties, they will constantly be interested and cheered in their exercise by the feeling of usefulness and the consciousness of having performed their duty. There are few young persons, it is hoped, who are brought up with such miserable habits of selfishness and indolence that they can not be made to feel happier by the consciousness of being usefully employed. And those who have never been accustomed to think or care for any one but themselves, and who seem to feel little pleasure in making themselves useful, by wise and proper influences can often be gradually awakened to the new pleasure of benevolent exertion to promote the comfort and enjoyment of others. And the more this sacred and elevating kind of enjoyment is tasted, the greater is the relish induced. Other enjoyments often cloy; but the heavenly pleasure secured by virtuous industry and benevolence, while it satisfies at the time, awakens fresh desires for the continuance of so ennobling a good. IX. HEALTHFUL FOOD. The person who decides what shall be the food and drink of a family, and the modes of its preparation, is the one who decides, to a greater or less extent, what shall be the health of that family. It is the opinion of most medical men, that intemperance in eating is one of the most fruitful of all causes of disease and death. If this be so, the woman who wisely adapts the food and cooking of her family to the laws of health removes one of the greatest risks which threatens the lives of those under her care. But, unfortunately, there is no other duty that has been involved in more doubt and perplexity. Were one to believe all that is said and written on this subject, the conclusion probably would be, that there is not one solitary article of food on God's earth which it is healthful to eat. Happily, however, there are general principles on this subject which, if understood and applied, will prove a safe guide to any woman of common sense; and it is the object of the following chapter to set forth these principles. All material things on earth, whether solid, liquid, or gaseous, can be resolved into sixty-two simple substances, only fourteen of which are in the human body; and these, in certain proportions, in all mankind. Thus, in a man weighing 154 lbs. are found, 111 lbs. oxygen gas, and 14 lbs. hydrogen gas, which, united, form water; 21 lbs. carbon; 3 lbs. 8 oz. nitrogen gas; 1 lb. 12 oz. 190 grs. phosphorus; 2 lbs. calcium, the chief ingredient of bones; 2 oz. fluorine; 2 oz. 219 grs. sulphur; 2 oz 47 grs. chlorine; 2 oz. 116 grs. sodium; 100 grs. iron; 290 grs. potassium; 12 grs. magnesium; and 2 grs. silicon. These simple substances are constantly passing out of the body through the lungs, skin, and other excreting organs. It is found that certain of these simple elements are used for one part of the body, and others for other parts, and this in certain regular proportions. Thus, carbon is the chief element of fat, and also supplies the fuel that combines with oxygen in the capillaries to produce animal heat. The nitrogen which we gain from our food and the air is the chief element of muscle; phosphorus is the chief element of brain and nerves; and calcium or lime is the hard portion of the bones. Iron is an important element of blood, and silicon supplies the hardest parts of the teeth, nails, and hair. Water, which is composed of the two gases, oxygen and hydrogen, is the largest portion of the body, forming its fluids; there is four times as much of carbon as there is of nitrogen in the body; while there is only two per cent as much phosphorus as carbon. A man weighing one hundred and fifty-four pounds, who leads an active life, takes into his stomach daily from two to three pounds of solid food, and from five to six pounds of liquid. At the same time he takes into his lungs, daily, four or five thousand gallons of air. This amounts to three thousand pounds of nutriment received through stomach and lungs, and then expelled from the body, in one year; or about twenty times the man's own weight. The change goes on in every minute point of the body, though in some parts much faster than in others; as set forth in the piquant and sprightly language of Dr. O. W. Holmes [Footnote: Atlantic Almanac, 1869, p. 40.], who, giving a vivid picture of the constant decay and renewal of the body, says: "_Every organized being always lives immersed in a strong solution of its own elements._" "Sometimes, as in the case of the air-plant, the solution contains all its elements; but in higher plants, and in animals generally, some of the principal ones only. Take our own bodies, and we find the atmosphere contains the oxygen and the nitrogen, of which we are so largely made up, as its chief constituents; the hydrogen, also, in its watery vapor; the carbon, in its carbonic acid. What our air-bath does not furnish us, we must take in the form of nourishment, supplied through the digestive organs. But the first food we take, after we have set up for ourselves, is air, and the last food we take is air also. We are all chameleons in our diet, as we are all salamanders in our _habitats_, inasmuch as we live always in the fire of our own smouldering combustion; a gentle but constant flame, fanned every day by the same forty hogsheads of air which furnish us not with our daily bread, which we can live more than a day without touching, but with our momentary, and oftener than momentary, aliment, without which we can not live five minutes." "We are perishing and being born again at every instant. We do literally enter over and over again into the womb of that great mother, from whom we get our bones, and flesh, and blood, and marrow. 'I die daily' is true of all that live. If we cease to die, particle by particle, and to be born anew in the same proportion, the whole movement of life comes to an end, and swift, universal, irreparable decay resolves our frames into the parent elements." "The products of the internal fire which consumes us over and over again every year, pass off mainly in smoke and steam from the lungs and the skin. The smoke is only invisible, because the combustion is so perfect. The steam is plain enough in our breaths on a frosty morning; and an over-driven horse will show us, on a larger scale, the cloud that is always arising from own bodies." "Man walks, then, not only in a vain show, but wrapped in an uncelestial aureole of his own material exhalations. A great mist of gases and of vapor rises day and night from the whole realm of living nature. The water and the carbonic acid which animals exhale become the food of plants, whose leaves are at once lungs and mouths. The vegetable world reverses the breathing process of the animal creation, restoring the elements which that has combined and rendered effete for its own purposes, to their original condition. The salt-water ocean is a great aquarium. The air ocean in which we live is a 'Wardian case,' of larger dimensions." It is found that the simple elements will not nourish the body in their natural state, but only when organized, either as vegetable or animal food; and, to the dismay of the Grahamite or vegetarian school, it is now established by chemists that animal and vegetable food contain the same elements, and in nearly the same proportions. Thus, in animal food, carbon predominates in fats, while in vegetable food it shows itself in sugar, starch, and vegetable oils. Nitrogen is found in animal food in the albumen, fibrin, and caseine; while in vegetables it is in gluten, albumen, and caseine. [Illustration: Fig. 55] It is also a curious fact that, in all articles of food, the elements that nourish diverse parts of the body are divided into separable portions, and also that the proportions correspond in a great degree to the wants of the body. For example, a kernel of wheat contains all the articles demanded for every part of the body. Fig. 55 represents, upon an enlarged scale, the position and proportions of the chief elements required. The white central part is the largest in quantity, and is chiefly carbon in the form of starch, which supplies fat and fuel for the capillaries. The shaded outer portion is chiefly nitrogen, which nourishes the muscles, and the dark spot at the bottom is principally phosphorus, which nourishes the brain and nerves. And these elements are in due proportion to the demands of the body. A portion of the outer covering of a wheat-kernel holds lime, silica, and iron, which are needed by the body, and which are found in no other part of the grain. The woody fibre is not digested, but serves by its bulk and stimulating action to facilitate digestion. It is therefore evident that bread made of unbolted flour is more healthful than that made of superfine flour. The process of bolting removes all the woody fibre; the lime needed for the bones; the silica for hair, nails, and teeth; the iron for the blood; and most of the nitrogen and phosphorus needed for muscles, brain, and nerves. Experiments on animals prove that fine flour alone, which is chiefly carbon, will not sustain life more than a month, while unbolted flour furnishes all that is needed for every part of the body. There are cases where persons can not use such coarse bread, on account of its irritating action on inflamed coats of the stomach. For such, a kind of wheaten grit is provided, containing all the kernel of the wheat, except the outside woody fibre. When the body requires a given kind of diet, specially demanded by brain, lungs, or muscles, the appetite will crave food for it until the necessary amount of this article is secured. If, then, the food in which the needed aliment abounds is not supplied, other food will be taken in larger quantities than needed until that amount is gained. For all kinds of food have supplies for every want of the body, though in different proportions. Thus, for example, if the muscles are worked a great deal, food in which nitrogen abounds is required, and the appetite will continue until the requisite amount of nitrogen is secured. If, then, food is taken which has not the requisite quantity, the consequence is, that more is taken than the system can use, while the vital powers are needlessly taxed to throw off the excess. These facts were ascertained by Liebig, a celebrated German chemist and physicist, who, assisted by his government, conducted experiments on a large scale in prisons, in armies, and in hospitals. Among other results, he states that those who use potatoes for their principal food eat them in very much larger quantities than their bodies would demand if they used also other food. The reason is, that the potato has a very large proportion of starch that supplies only fuel for the capillaries and very little nitrogen to feed the muscles. For this reason lean meat is needed with potatoes. In comparing wheat and potatoes we find that in one hundred parts wheat there are fourteen parts nitrogen for muscle, and two parts phosphorus for brain and nerves. But in the potato there is only one part in one hundred for muscle, and nine tenths of one part of phosphorus for brain and nerves. The articles containing most of the three articles needed generally in the body are as follows: for fat and heat-making--butter, lard, sugar, and molasses; for muscle-making--lean meat, cheese, peas, beans, and lean fishes; for brain and nerves--shell-fish, lean meats, peas, beans, and very active birds and fishes who live chiefly on food in which phosphorus abounds. In a meat diet, the fat supplies carbon for the capillaries and the lean furnishes nutriment for muscle, brain, and nerves. Green vegetables, fruits, and berries furnish the acid and water needed. In grains used for food, the proportions of useful elements are varied; there is in some more of carbon and in others more of nitrogen and phosphorus. For example, in oats there is more of nitrogen for the muscles, and less carbon for the lungs, than can be found in wheat. In the corn of the North, where cold weather demands fuel for lungs and capillaries, there is much more carbon to supply it than is found in the Southern corn. From these statements it may be seen that one of the chief mistakes in providing food for families has been in changing the proportions of the elements nature has fitted for our food. Thus, fine wheat is deprived by bolting of some of the most important of its nourishing elements, leaving carbon chiefly, which, after supplying fuel fur the capillaries, must, if in excess, be sent out of the body; thus needlessly taxing all the excreting organs. So milk, which contains all the elements needed by the body, has the cream taken out and used for butter, which again is chiefly carbon. Then, sugar and molasses, cakes and candies, are chiefly carbon, and supply but very little of other nourishing elements, while to make them safe much exercise in cold and pure air is necessary. And yet it is the children of the rich, housed in chambers and school-rooms most of their time, who are fed with these dangerous dainties, thus weakening their constitutions, and inducing fevers, colds, and many other diseases. The proper digestion of food depends on the wants of the body, and on its power of appropriating the aliment supplied. The best of food can not be properly digested when it is not needed. All that the system requires will be used, and the rest will be thrown out by the several excreting organs, which thus are frequently over-taxed, and vital forces are wasted. Even food of poor quality may digest well if the demands of the system are urgent. The way to increase digestive power is to increase the demand for food by pure air and exercise of the muscles, quickening the blood, and arousing the whole system to a more rapid and vigorous rate of life. Rules for persons in full health, who enjoy pure air and exercise, are not suitable for those whose digestive powers are feeble, or who are diseased. On the other hand, many rules for invalids are not needed by the healthful, while rules for one class of invalids will not avail for other classes. Every weak stomach has its peculiar wants, and can not furnish guidance for others. We are now ready to consider intelligently the following general principles in regard to the proper selection of food: Vegetable and animal food are equally healthful if apportioned to the given circumstances. In cold weather, carbonaceous food, such as butter, fats, sugar, molasses, etc., can be used more safely than in warm weather. And they can be used more safely by those who exercise in the open air than by those of confined and sedentary habits. Students who need food with little carbon, and women who live in the house, should always seek coarse bread, fruits, and lean meats, and avoid butter, oils, sugar, and molasses, and articles containing them. Many students and women using little exercise in the open air, grow thin and weak, because the vital powers are exhausted in throwing off excess of food, especially of the carbonaceous. The liver is especially taxed in such cases, being unable to remove all the excess of carbonaceous matter from, the blood, and thus "biliousness" ensues, particularly on the approach of warm weather, when the air brings less oxygen than in cold. It is found, by experiment, that the supply of gastric juice, furnished from the blood by the arteries of the stomach, is proportioned, not to the amount of food put into the stomach, but to the wants of the body; so that it is possible to put much more into the stomach than can be digested. To guide and regulate in this matter, the sensation called _hunger_ is provided. In a healthy state of the body, as soon as the blood has lost its nutritive supplies, the craving of hunger is felt, and then, if the food is suitable, and is taken in the proper manner, this sensation ceases as soon as the stomach has received enough to supply the wants of the system. But our benevolent Creator, in this, as in our other duties, has connected enjoyment with the operation needful to sustain our bodies. In addition to the allaying of hunger, the gratification of the palate is secured by the immense variety of food, some articles of which are far more agreeable than others. This arrangement of Providence, designed for our happiness, has become, either through ignorance, or want of self-control, the chief cause of the many diseases and suffering which afflict those classes who have the means of seeking a variety to gratify the palate. If mankind had only one article of food, and only water to drink, though they would have less enjoyment in eating, they would never be tempted to put any more into the stomach than the calls of hunger require. But the customs of society, which present an incessant change, and a great variety of food, with those various condiments which stimulate appetite, lead almost every person very frequently to eat merely to gratify the palate, after the stomach has been abundantly supplied, so that hunger has ceased. When too great a supply of food is put into the stomach, the gastric juice dissolves only that portion which the wants of the system demand. Most of the remainder is ejected, in an unprepared state; the absorbents take portions of it into the system; and all the various functions of the body, which depend on the ministries of the blood, are thus gradually and imperceptibly injured. Very often, intemperance in eating produces immediate results, such as colic, headaches, pains of indigestion, and vertigo. But the more general result is a gradual undermining of all parts of the human frame; this imperceptibly shortening life, by so weakening the constitution, that it is ready to yield, at every point, to any uncommon risk or exposure. Thousands and thousands are parsing out of the world, from diseases occasioned by exposures which a healthy constitution could meet without any danger. It is owing to these considerations, that it becomes the duty of every woman, who has the responsibility of providing food for a family, to avoid a variety of tempting dishes. It is a much safer rule, to have only one kind of healthy food, for each meal, than the too abundant variety which is often met at the tables of almost all classes in this country. When there is to be any variety of dishes, they ought not to be successive, but so arranged as to give the opportunity of selection. How often is it the case, that persons, by the appearance of a favorite article, are tempted to eat merely to gratify the palate, when the stomach is already adequately supplied. All such intemperance wears on the constitution, and shortens life. It not infrequently happens that excess in eating produces a morbid appetite, which must constantly be denied. But the organization of the digestive organs demands, not only that food should be taken in proper quantities, but that it be taken at proper times. [Illustration: Fig. 56.] Fig. 56 shows one important feature of the digestive organs relating to this point. The part marked LM shows the muscles of the inner coat of the stomach, which run in one direction, and CM shows the muscles of the outer coat, running in another direction. As soon as the food enters the stomach, the muscles are excited by the nerves, and the _peristaltic motion_ commences. This is a powerful and constant exercise of the muscles of the stomach, which continues until the process of digestion is complete. During this time the blood is withdrawn from other parts of the system, to supply the demands of the stomach, which is laboring hard with all its muscles. When this motion ceases, and the digested food has gradually passed out, nature requires that the stomach should have a period of repose. And if another meal be eaten immediately after one is digested, the stomach is set to work again before it has had time to rest, and before a sufficient supply of gastric juice is provided. The general rule, then, is, that three hours be given to the stomach for labor, and two for rest; and in obedience to this, five hours, at least, ought to elapse between every two regular meals. In cases where exercise produces a flow of perspiration, more food is needed to supply the loss; and strong laboring men may safely eat as often as they feel the want of food. So, young and healthy children, who gambol and exercise ranch and whose bodies grow fast, may have a more frequent supply of food. But, as a general rule, meals should be five hours apart, and eating between meals avoided. There is nothing more unsafe, and wearing to the constitution, than a habit of eating at any time merely to gratify the palate. When a tempting article is presented, every person should exercise sufficient self-denial to wait till the proper time for eating arrives. Children, as well as grown persons, are often injured by eating between their regular meals, thus weakening the stomach by not affording it any time for rest. In deciding as to _quantity_ of food, there is one great difficulty to be met by a large portion of the community. The exercise of every part of the body is necessary to its health and perfection. The bones, the muscles, the nerves, the organs of digestion and respiration, and the skin, all demand exercise, in order properly to perform their functions. When the muscles of the body are called into action, all the blood-vessels entwined among them are frequently compressed. As the veins have valves so contrived that the blood can not run back, this compression hastens it forward toward the heart; which is immediately put in quicker motion, to send it into the lungs; and they, also, are thus stimulated to more rapid action, which is the cause of that panting which active exercise always occasions. The blood thus courses with greater celerity through the body, and sooner loses its nourishing properties. Then the stomach issues its mandate of hunger, and a new supply of food must be furnished. Thus it appears, as a general rule, that the quantity of food actually needed by the body depends on the amount of muscular exercise taken. A laboring man, in the open fields, probably throws off from his skin and lungs a much larger amount than a person of sedentary pursuits. In consequence of this, he demands a greater amount of food and drink. Those persons who keep their bodies in a state of health by sufficient exercise can always be guided by the calls of hunger. They can eat when they feel hungry, and stop when hunger ceases; and thus they will calculate exactly right. But the difficulty is, that a large part of the community, especially women, are so inactive in their habits that they seldom feel the calls of hunger. They habitually eat, merely to gratify the palate. This produces such a state of the system that they lose the guide which Nature has provided. They are not called to eat by hunger, nor admonished, by its cessation, when to stop. In consequence of this, such persons eat what pleases the palate, till they feel no more inclination for the article. It is probable that three fourths of the women in the wealthier circles sit down to each meal without any feeling of hunger, and eat merely on account of the gratification thus afforded them. Such persons find their appetite to depend almost solely upon the kind of food on the table. This is not the case with those who take the exercise which Nature demands. They approach their meals in such a state that almost any kind of food is acceptable. The question then arises, How are persons, who have lost the guide which Nature has provided, to determine as to the proper amount of food they shall take? The best method is for several days to take their ordinary exercise and eat only one or two articles of simple food, such as bread and milk, or bread and butter with cooked fruit, or lean meat with bread and vegetables, and at the same time eat less than the appetite demands. Then on the following two days, take just enough to satisfy the appetite, and on the third day notice the quantity which satisfies. After this, decide before eating that only this amount of simple food shall be taken. Persons who have a strong constitution, and take much exercise, may eat almost any thing with apparent impunity; but young children who are forming their constitutions, and persons who are delicate, and who take but little exercise, are very dependent for health on a proper selection of food. It is found that there are some kinds of food which afford nutriment to the blood, and do not produce any other effect on the system. There are other kinds, which are not only nourishing, but _stimulating_, so that they quicken the functions of the organs on which they operate. The condiments used in cookery, such as pepper, mustard, and spices, are of this nature. There are certain states of the system when these stimulants may be beneficial; such cases can only be pointed out by medical men. Persons in perfect health, and especially young children, never receive any benefit from such kind of food; and just in proportion as condiments operate to quicken the labors of the internal organs, they tend to wear down their powers. A person who thus keeps the body working under an unnatural excitement, _live faster_ than Nature designed, and the constitution is worn out just so much the sooner. A woman, therefore, should provide dishes for her family which are free from these stimulating condiments. It is also found, by experience, that the lean part of animal food is more stimulating than vegetable. This is the reason why, in cases of fevers or inflammations, medical men forbid the use of meat. A person who lives chiefly on animal food is under a higher degree of stimulus than if his food was chiefly composed of vegetable substances. His blood will flow faster, and all the functions of his body will be quickened. This makes it important to secure a proper proportion of animal and vegetable diet. Some medical men suppose that an exclusively vegetable diet is proved, by the experience of many individuals, to be fully sufficient to nourish the body; and bring, as evidence, the fact that some of the strongest and most robust men in the world are those who are trained, from infancy, exclusively on vegetable food. From this they infer that life will be shortened just in proportion as the diet is changed to more stimulating articles; and that, all other things being equal, children will have a better chance of health and long life if they are brought up solely on vegetable food. But, though this is not the common opinion of medical men, they all agree that, in America, far too large a portion of the diet consists of animal food. As a nation, the Americans are proverbial for the gross and luxurious diet with which they load their tables; and there can be no doubt that the general health of the nation would be increased by a change in our customs in this respect. To take meat but once a day, and this in small quantities, compared with the common practice, is a rule, the observance of which would probably greatly reduce the amount of fevers, eruptions, headaches, bilious attacks, and the many other ailments which are produced or aggravated by too gross a diet. The celebrated Roman physician, Baglivi, (who, from practicing extensively among Roman Catholics, had ample opportunities to observe,) mentions that, in Italy, an unusual number of people recover their health in the forty days of Lent, in consequence of the lower diet which is required as a religious duty. An American physician remarks, "For every reeling drunkard that disgraces our country, it contains one hundred gluttons--persons, I mean, who eat to excess, and suffer in consequence." Another distinguished physician says, "I believe that every stomach, not actually impaired by organic disease, will perform its functions, if it receives reasonable attention; and when we perceive the manner in which diet is generally conducted, both in regard to _quantity_ and _variety_ of articles of food and drink, which are mixed up in one heterogeneous mass--instead of being astonished at the prevalence of indigestion, our wonder must rather be that, in such circumstances, any stomach is capable of digesting at all." In regard to articles which are the most easily digested, only general rules can be given. Tender meats are digested more readily than those which are tough, or than many kinds of vegetable food. The farinaceous articles, such as rice, flour, corn, potatoes, and the like, are the most nutritious, and most easily digested. The popular notion, that meat is more nourishing than bread, is a great mistake. Good bread contains more nourishment than butcher's meat. The meat is more _stimulating_, and for this reason is more readily digested. A perfectly healthy stomach can digest almost any healthful food; but when the digestive powers are weak, every stomach has its peculiarities, and what is good for one is hurtful to another. In such cases, experiment alone can decide which are the most digestible articles of food. A person whose food troubles him must deduct one article after another, till he learns, by experience, which is the best for digestion. Much evil has been done, by assuming that the powers of one stomach are to be made the rule in regulating every other. The most unhealthful kinds of food are those which, are made so by bad cooking; such as sour and heavy bread, cakes, pie-crust, and other dishes consisting of fat mixed and cooked with flour. Rancid butter and high-seasoned food are equally unwholesome. The fewer mixtures there are in cooking, the more healthful is the food likely to be. There is one caution as to the _mode_ of eating which seems peculiarly needful to Americans. It is indispensable to good digestion, that food be well chewed and taken slowly. It needs to be thoroughly chewed and mixed with saliva, in order to prepare it for the action of the gastric juice, which, by the peristaltic motion, will be thus brought into contact with every one of the minute portions. It has been found that a solid lump of food requires much more time and labor of the stomach for digestion than divided substances. It has also been found, that as each bolus, or mouthful, enters the stomach, the latter closes, until the portion received has had some time to move around and combine with the gastric juice, and that the orifice of the stomach resists the entrance of any more till this is accomplished. But, if the eater persists in swallowing fast, the stomach yields; the food is then poured in more rapidly than the organ can perform its duty of preparative digestion; and evil results are sooner or later developed. This exhibits the folly of those hasty meals, so common to travelers and to men of business, and shows why children should be taught to eat slowly. After taking a full meal, it is very important to health that no great bodily or mental exertion be made till the labor of the stomach is over. Intense mental effort draws the blood to the head, and muscular exertions draw it to the muscles; and in consequence of this, the stomach loses the supply which it requires when performing its office. When the blood with its stimulating effects is thus withdrawn from the stomach, the adequate supply of gastric juice is not afforded, and indigestion is the result. The heaviness which follows a full meal is the indication which Nature gives of the need of quiet. When the meal is moderate, a sufficient quantity of gastric juice is exuded in an hour, or an hour and a half; after which, labor of body and mind may safely be resumed. When undigested food remains in the stomach, and is at last thrown out into the bowels, it proves an irritating substance, producing an inflamed state in the lining of the stomach and other organs. It is found that the stomach has the power of gradually accommodating indigestive powers to the food it habitually receives. Thus, animals which live on vegetables can gradually become accustomed to animal food; and the reverse is equally true. Thus, too, the human stomach can eventually accomplish the digestion of some kinds of food, which, at first, were indigestible. But any changes of this sort should be gradual; as those which are sudden are trying to the powers of the stomach, by furnishing matter for which its gastric juice is not prepared. Extremes of heat or cold are injurious to the process of digestion. Taking hot food or drink, habitually, tends to debilitate all the organs thus needlessly excited. In using cold substances, it is found that a certain degree of warmth in the stomach is indispensable to their digestion; so that, when the gastric juice is cooled below this temperature, it ceases to act. Indulging in large quantities of cold drinks, or eating ice-creams, after a meal, tends to reduce the temperature of the stomach, and thus to stop digestion. This shows the folly of those refreshments, in convivial meetings, where the guests are tempted to load the stomach with a variety such as would require the stomach of a stout farmer to digest; and then to wind up with ice- creams, thus lessening whatever ability might otherwise have existed to digest the heavy load. The fittest temperature for drinks, if taken when the food is in the digesting process, is blood heat. Cool drinks, and even ice, can be safely taken at other times, if not in excessive quantity. When the thirst is excessive, or the body weakened by fatigue, or when in a state of perspiration, large quantities of cold drinks are injurious. Fluids taken into the stomach are not subject to the slow process of digestion, but are immediately absorbed and carried into the blood. This is the reason why liquid nourishment, more speedily than solid food, restores from exhaustion. The minute vessels of the stomach absorb its fluids, which are carried into the blood, just as the minute extremities of the arteries open upon the inner surface of the stomach, and there exude the gastric juice from the blood. When food is chiefly liquid, (soup, for example,) the fluid part is rapidly absorbed. The solid parts remain, to be acted on by the gastric juice. In the case of St. Martin, [Footnote: The individual here referred to--Alexis St. Martin--was a young Canadian, eighteen years of age, of a good constitution and robust health, who, in 1822, was accidentally wounded by the discharge of a musket which: carried away a part of the ribs, lacerated one of two lobes of the lungs, and perforated the stomach, making a large aperture, which never closed; and which enabled Dr. Beaumont (a surgeon of the American army, stationed at Michilimackanac, under whose care the patient was placed) to witness all the processes of digestion and other functions of the body for several years.] in fifty minutes after taking soup, the fluids were absorbed, and the remainder was even thicker than is usual after eating solid food. This is the reason why soups are deemed bad for weak stomachs; as this residuum is more difficult of digestion than ordinary food. Highly-concentrated food, having much nourishment in a small bulk, is not favorable to digestion, because it can not be properly acted on by the muscular contractions of the stomach, and is not so minutely divided as to enable the gastric juice to act properly. This is the reason why a certain _bulk_ of food is needful to good digestion; and why those people who live on whale-oil and other highly nourishing food, in cold climates, mix vegetables and even sawdust with it to make it more acceptable and digestible. So in civilized lands, fruits and vegetables are mixed with more highly concentrated nourishment. For this reason also, soups, jellies, and arrow-root should have bread or crackers mixed with them. This affords another reason why coarse bread, of unbolted wheat, so often proves beneficial. Where, from inactive habits or other causes, the bowels become constipated and sluggish, this kind of food proves the appropriate remedy. One fact on this subject is worthy of notice. In England, under the administration of William Pitt, for two years or more there was such a scarcity of wheat that, to make it hold out longer, Parliament passed a law that the army should have all their bread made of unbolted flour. The result was, that the health of the soldiers improved so much as to be a subject of surprise to themselves, the officers, and the physicians. These last came out publicly and declared that the soldiers never before were so robust and healthy; and that disease had nearly disappeared from the army. The civic physicians joined and pronounced it the healthiest bread; and for a time schools, families, and public institutions used it almost exclusively. Even the nobility, convinced by these facts, adopted it for their common diet, and the fashion continued a long time after the scarcity ceased, until more luxurious habits resumed their sway. We thus see why children should not have cakes and candies allowed them between meals. Besides being largely carbonaceous, these are highly concentrated nourishments, and should be eaten with more bulky and less nourishing substances. The most indigestible of all kinds of food are fatty and oily substances, if heated. It is on this account that pie-crust and articles boiled and fried in fat or butter are deemed not so healthful as other food. The following, then, may be put down as the causes of a debilitated constitution from the misuse of food. Eating _too much,_ eating _too often,_ eating _too fast,_ eating food and condiments that are _too stimulating,_ eating food that is _too warm_ or _too cold,_ eating food that is _highly concentrated,_ without a proper admixture of less nourishing matter, and eating hot food that is _difficult of digestion._ X. HEALTHFUL DRINKS. There is no direction in which a woman more needs both scientific knowledge and moral force than in using her influence to control her family in regard to stimulating beverages. It is a point fully established by experience that the full development of the human body and the vigorous exercise of all its functions can be secured without the use of stimulating drinks. It is, therefore, perfectly safe to bring up children never to use them, no hazard being incurred by such a course. It is also found by experience that there are two evils incurred by the use of stimulating drinks. The first is, their positive effect on the human system. Their peculiarity consists in so exciting the nervous system that all the functions of the body are accelerated, and the fluids are caused to move quicker than at their natural speed. This increased motion of the animal fluids always produces an agreeable effect on the mind. The intellect is invigorated, the imagination is excited, the spirits are enlivened; and these effects are so agreeable that all mankind, after having once experienced them, feel a great desire for their repetition. But this temporary invigoration of the system is always followed by a diminution of the powers of the stimulated organs; so that, though in all cases this reaction may not be perceptible, it is invariably the result. It may be set down as the unchangeable rule of physiology, that stimulating drinks deduct from the powers of the constitution in exactly the proportion in which they operate to produce temporary invigoration. The second evil is the temptation which always attends the use of stimulants. Their effect on the system is so agreeable, and the evils resulting are so imperceptible and distant, that there is a constant tendency to increase such excitement both in frequency and power. And the more the system is thus reduced in strength, the more craving is the desire for that which imparts a temporary invigoration. This process of increasing debility and increasing craving for the stimulus that removes it, often goes to such an extreme that the passion is perfectly uncontrollable, and mind and body perish under this baleful habit. In this country there are three forms in which the use of such stimulants is common; namely, _alcoholic drinks, opium mixtures_, and _tobacco_. These are all alike in the main peculiarity of imparting that extra stimulus to the system which tends to exhaust its powers. Multitudes in this nation are in the habitual use of some one of these stimulants; and each person defends the indulgence by certain arguments: First, that the desire for stimulants is a natural propensity implanted in man's nature, as is manifest from the universal tendency to such indulgences in every nation. From this, it is inferred that it is an innocent desire, which ought to be gratified to some extent, and that the aim should be to keep it within the limits of temperance, instead of attempting to exterminate a natural propensity. This is an argument which, if true, makes it equally proper for not only men, but women and children, to use opium, brandy, or tobacco as stimulating principles, provided they are used temperately. But if it be granted that perfect health and strength can be gained and secured without these stimulants, and that their peculiar effect is to diminish the power of the system in exactly the same proportion as they stimulate it, then there is no such thing as a temperate use, unless they are so diluted as to destroy any stimulating power; and in this form they are seldom desired. The other argument for their use is, that they are among the good things provided by the Creator for our gratification; that, like all other blessings, they are exposed to abuse and excess; and that we should rather seek to regulate their use than to banish them entirely. This argument is based on the assumption that they are, like healthful foods and drinks, necessary to life and health, and injurious only by excess. But this is not true; for whenever they are used in any such strength as to be a gratification, they operate to a greater or less extent as stimulants; and to just such extent they wear out the powers of the constitution; and it is abundantly proved that they are not, like food and drink, necessary to health. Such articles are designed for medicine and not for common use. There can be no argument framed to defend the use of one of them which will not justify women and children in most dangerous indulgences. There are some facts recently revealed by the microscope in regard to alcoholic drinks, which every woman should understand and regard. It has been shown in a previous chapter that every act of mind, either by thought, feeling, or choice, causes the destruction of certain cells in the brain and nerves. It now is proved by microscopic science [Footnote: For those statements the writer is indebted to Maudsley, a recent writer on Microscopic Physiology.] that the kind of nutrition furnished to the brain by the blood to a certain extent decides future feelings, thoughts, and volitions. The cells of the brain not only abstract from the blood the healthful nutrition, but also are affected in shape, size, color, and action by unsuitable elements in the blood. This is especially the case when alcohol is taken into the stomach, from whence it is always carried to the brain. The consequence is, that it affects the nature and action of the brain-cells, until a habit is formed which is _automatic_; that is, the mind loses the power of controlling the brain, in its development of thoughts, feelings, and choices as it would in the natural state, and is itself controlled by the brain. In this condition a real disease of the brain is created, called _oino-mania_, (see _Glossary_,) and the only remedy is total abstinence, and that for a long period, from the alcoholic poison. And what makes the danger more fearful is, that the brain-cells never are so renewed but that this pernicious stimulus will bring back the disease in full force, so that a man once subject to it is never safe except by maintaining perpetual and total abstinence from every kind of alcoholic drink. Dr. Day, who for many years has had charge of an inebriate asylum, states that he witnessed the dissection of the brain of a man once an inebriate, but for many years in practice of total abstinence, and found its cells still in the weak and unnatural state produced by earlier indulgences. There has unfortunately been a difference of opinion among medical men as to the use of alcohol. Liebig, the celebrated writer on animal chemistry, having found that both sugar and alcohol were heat-producing articles of food, framed a theory that alcohol is burnt in the lungs, giving off carbonic acid and water, and thus serving to warm the body. But modern science has proved that it is in the capillaries that animal heat is generated, and it is believed that alcohol lessens instead of increasing the power of the body to bear the cold. Sir John Koss, in his Arctic voyage, proved by his own experience and that of his men that cold-water drinkers could bear cold longer and were stronger than any who used alcohol. Carpenter, a standard writer on physiology, says the objection to a habitual use of even small quantities of alcoholic drinks is, that "they are universally admitted to possess a poisonous character," and "tend to produce a morbid condition of body;" while "the capacity for enduring extremes of heat and cold, or of mental or bodily labor, is diminished rather than increased by their habitual employment." Prof. J. Bigelow, of Harvard University, says, "Alcohol is highly stimulating, heating, and intoxicating, and its effects are so fascinating that when once experienced there is danger that the desire for them may be perpetuated." Dr. Bell and Dr. Churchill, both high medical authorities, especially in lung disease, for which whisky is often recommended, come to the conclusion that "the opinion that alcoholic liquors have influence in preventing the deposition of tubercle is destitute of any foundation; on the contrary, their use predisposes to tubercular deposition." And "where tubercle exists, alcohol has no effect in modifying the usual course, neither does it modify the morbid effects on the system." Prof. Youmans, of New-York, says: "It has been demonstrated that alcoholic drinks prevent the natural changes in the blood, and obstruct the nutritive and reparative functions." He adds, "Chemical experiments have demonstrated that the action of alcohol on the digestive fluid is to destroy its active principle, the _pepsin, thus confirming the observations of physiologists, that its use gives rise to serious disorders of the stomach and malignant aberration of the whole economy." We are now prepared to consider the great principles of science, common sense, and religion, which should guide every woman who has any kind of influence or responsibility on this subject. It is allowed by all medical men that pure water is perfectly healthful and supplies all the liquid needed by the body; and also that by proper means, which ordinarily are in the reach of all, water can be made sufficiently pure. It is allowed by all that milk, and the juices of fruits, when taken into the stomach, furnish water that is always pure, and that our bread and vegetable food also supply it in large quantities. There are besides a great variety of agreeable and healthful beverages, made from the juices of fruit, containing no alcohol, and agreeable drinks, such as milk, cocoa, and chocolate, that contain no stimulating principles, and which are nourishing and healthful. As one course, then, is perfectly safe and another involves great danger, it is wrong and sinful to choose the path of danger. There is no peril in drinking pure water, milk, the juices of fruits, and infusions that are nourishing and harmless. But there is great danger to the young, and to the commonwealth, in patronizing the sale and use of alcoholic drinks. The religion of Christ, in its distinctive feature, involves generous self-denial for the good of others, especially for the weaker members of society. It is on this principle that St. Paul sets forth his own example, "If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend." And again he teaches, "We, then, that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves." This Christian principle also applies to the common drinks of the family, tea and coffee. It has been shown that the great end for which Jesus Christ came, and for which he instituted the family state, is the training of our whole race to virtue and happiness, with chief reference to an immortal existence. In this mission, of which woman is chief minister, as before stated, the distinctive feature is self-sacrifice of the wiser and stronger members to save and to elevate the weaker ones. The children and the servants are these weaker members, who by ignorance and want of habits of self-control are in most danger. It is in this aspect that we are to consider the expediency of using tea and coffee in a family. These drinks are a most extensive cause of much of the nervous debility and suffering endured by American women; and relinquishing them, would save an immense amount of such suffering. Moreover, all housekeepers will allow that they can not regulate these drinks in their kitchens, where the ignorant use them to excess. There is little probability that the present generation will make so decided a change in their habits as to give up these beverages; but the subject is presented rather in reference to forming the habits of children. It is a fact that tea and coffee are at first seldom or never agreeable to children. It is the mixture of milk, sugar, and water, that reconciles them to a taste, which in this manner gradually becomes agreeable. Now suppose that those who provide for a family conclude that it is not _their_ duty to give up entirely the use of stimulating drinks, may not the case appear different in regard to teaching their children to love such drinks? Let the matter be regarded thus: The experiments of physiologists all prove that stimulants are not needful to health, and that, as the general rule, they tend to debilitate the constitution. Is it right, then, for a parent to tempt a child to drink what is not needful, when there is a probability that it will prove, to some extent, an undermining drain on the constitution? Some constitutions can bear much less excitement than others; and in every family of children, there is usually one or more of delicate organization, and consequently peculiarly exposed to dangers from this source. It is this child who ordinarily becomes the victim to stimulating drinks. The tea and coffee which the parents and the healthier children can use without immediate injury, gradually sap the energies of the feebler child, who proves either an early victim or a living martyr to all the sufferings that debilitated nerves inflict. Can it be right to lead children where all allow that there is some danger, and where in many cases disease and death are met, when, another path is known to be perfectly safe? The impression common in this country, that _warm drinks_, especially in winter, are more healthful than cold, is not warranted by any experience, nor by the laws of the physical system. At dinner, cold drinks are universal, and no one deems them injurious. It is only at the other two meals that they are supposed to be hurtful. There is no doubt that _warm_ drinks are healthful, and more agreeable than cold, at certain times and seasons; but it is equally true that drinks above blood-heat are not healthful. If a person should bathe in warm water every day, debility would inevitably follow; for the frequent application of the stimulus of heat, like all other stimulants, eventually causes relaxation and weakness. If, therefore, a person is in the habit of drinking hot drinks twice a day, the teeth, throat, and stomach are gradually debilitated. This, most probably, is one of the causes of an early decay of the teeth, which is observed to be much more common among American ladies, than among those in European countries. It has been stated to the writer, by an intelligent traveler who had visited Mexico, that it was rare to meet an individual with even a tolerable set of teeth, and that almost every grown person he met in the street had merely remnants of teeth. On inquiry into the customs of the country, it was found that it was the universal practice to take their usual beverage at almost the boiling-point; and this doubtless was the chief cause of the almost entire want of teeth in that country. In the United States, it can not be doubted that much evil is done in this way by hot drinks. Most tea-drinkers consider tea as ruined if it stands until it reaches the healthful temperature for drink. The following extract, from Dr. Andrew Combe, presents the opinion of most intelligent medical men on this subject. [Footnote: The writer would here remark, in reference to extracts made from various authors, that, for the sake of abridging, she has often left out parts of a paragraph, but never so as to modify the meaning of the author. Some ideas, not connected with the subject in hand, are omitted, but none are altered.] "_Water_ is a safe drink for all constitutions, provided it be resorted to in obedience to the dictates of natural thirst only, and not of habit. Unless the desire for it is felt, there is no occasion for its use during a meal." "The primary effect of all distilled and fermented liquors is to _stimulate the nervous system and quicken the circulation_. In infancy and childhood, the circulation is rapid and easily excited; and the nervous system is strongly acted upon even by the slightest external impressions. Hence, slight causes of irritation readily excite febrile and convulsive disorders. In youth, the natural tendency of the constitution is still to excitement, and consequently, as a general rule, the stimulus of fermented liquors is injurious." These remarks show that parents, who find that stimulating drinks are not injurious to themselves, may mistake in inferring from this that they will not be injurious to their children. Dr. Combe continues thus: "In mature age, when digestion is good, and the system in full vigor, if the mode of life be not too exhausting, the nervous functions and general circulation are in their best condition, and require no stimulus for their support. The bodily energy is then easily sustained by nutritious food and a regular regimen, and consequently artificial excitement only increases the wasting of the natural strength." It may be asked, in this connection, why the stimulus of animal food is not to be regarded in the same light as that of stimulating drinks. In reply, a very essential difference may he pointed out. Animal food furnishes nutriment to the organs which it stimulates, but stimulating drinks excite the organs to quickened action without affording any nourishment. It has been supposed by some that tea and coffee have, at least, a degree of nourishing power. But it is proved that it is the milk and sugar, and not the main portion of the drink, which imparts the nourishment. Tea has not one particle of nourishing properties; and what little exists in the coffee-berry is lost by roasting it in the usual mode. All that these articles do, is simply _to stimulate without nourishing_. Although there is little hope of banishing these drinks, there is still a chance that something may be gained in attempts to regulate their use by the rules of temperance. If, then, a housekeeper can not banish tea and coffee entirely, she may use her influence to prevent excess, both by her instructions, and by the power of control committed more or less to her hands. It is important for every housekeeper to know that the health of a family very much depends on the _purity_ of water used for cooking and drinking. There are three causes of impure and unhealthful water. One is, the existence in it of vegetable or animal matter, which can be remedied by filtering through sand and charcoal. Another cause is, the existence of mineral matter, especially in limestone countries, producing diseases of the bladder. This is remedied in a measure by boiling, which secures a deposit of the lime on the vessel used. The third cause is, the corroding of zinc and lead used in pipes and reservoirs, producing oxides that are slow poisons. The only remedy is prevention, by having supply-pipes made of iron, like gas-pipe, instead of zinc and lead; or the lately invented lead pipe lined with tin, which metal is not corrosive. The obstacle to this is, that the trade of the plumbers would be greatly diminished by the use of reliable pipes. When water must be used from supply-pipes of lead or zinc, it is well to let the water run some time before drinking it and to use as little as possible, taking milk instead; and being further satisfied for inner necessities by the water supplied by fruits and vegetables. The water in these is always pure. But in using milk as a drink, it must be remembered that it is also rich food, and that less of other food must be taken when milk is thus used, or bilious troubles will result from excess of food. The use of opium, especially by women, is usually caused at first by medical prescriptions containing it. All that has been stated as to the effect of alcohol in the brain is true of opium; while, to break a habit thus induced is almost hopeless, Every woman who takes or who administers this drug, is dealing as with poisoned arrows, whose wounds are without cure. The use of tobacco in this country, and especially among young boys, is increasing at a fearful rate. On this subject, we have the unanimous opinion of all medical men; the following being specimens. A distinguished medical writer thus states the case: "Every physician knows that the agreeable sensations that tempt to the use of tobacco are caused by _nicotine_, which is a rank poison, as much so as prussic acid or arsenic. When smoked, the poison is absorbed by the blood of the mouth, and carried to the brain. When chewed, the nicotine passes to the blood through the mouth and stomach. In both cases, the whole nervous system is thrown, into abnormal excitement to expel the poison, and it is this excitement that causes agreeable sensations. The excitement thus caused is invariably followed by a diminution of nervous power, in exact proportion to the preceding excitement to expel the evil from the system." Few will dispute the general truth and effect of the above statement, so that the question is one to be settled on the same principle as applies to the use of alcoholic drinks. Is it, then, according to the generous principles of Christ's religion, for those who are strong and able to bear this poison, to tempt the young, the ignorant, and the weak to a practice not needful to any healthful enjoyment, and which leads multitudes to disease, and often to vice? For the use of tobacco tends always to lessen nerve-power, and probably every one out of five that indulges in its use awakens a morbid craving for increased stimulus, lessens the power of self-control, diminishes the strength of the constitution, and sets an example that influences the weak to the path of danger and of frequent ruin. The great danger of this age is an increasing, intense worldliness, and disbelief in the foundation principle of the religion of Christ, that we are to reap through everlasting ages the consequences of habits formed in this life. In the light of his word, they only who are truly wise "shall shine as the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars, forever and ever." It is increased _faith_ or _belief_ in the teachings of Christ's religion, as to the influence of this life upon the _life to come_, which alone can save our country and the world from that inrushing tide of sensualism and worldliness, now seeming to threaten the best hopes and prospects of our race. And woman, as the chief educator of our race, and the prime minister of the family state, is bound in the use of meats and drinks to employ the powerful and distinctive motives of the religion of Christ in forming habits of temperance and benevolent self-sacrifice for the good of others. XI. CLEANLINESS. Both the health and comfort of a family depend, to a great extent, on cleanliness of the person and the family surroundings. True cleanliness of person involves the scientific treatment of the skin. This is the most complicated organ of the body, and one through which the health is affected more than through any other; and no persons can or will he be so likely to take proper care of it as those by whom its construction and functions are understood. [Illustration: Fig. 57.] Fig. 57 is a very highly magnified portion of the skin. The layer marked 1 is the outside, very thin skin, called the _cuticle_ or _scarf skin_. This consists of transparent layers of minute cells, which are constantly decaying and being renewed, and the white scurf that passes from the skin to the clothing is a decayed portion of these cells. This part of the skin has neither nerves nor blood-vessels. The dark layer, marked 2, 7, 8, is that portion of the true skin which gives the external color marking diverse races. In the portion of the dark layer marked 3, 4, is seen a network of nerves which run from two branches of the nervous trunks coming from the spinal marrow. These arc nerves of sensation, by which the sense of touch or feeling is performed. Fig. 58 represents the blood-vessels, (intermingled with the nerves of the skin,) which divide into minute capillaries that act like the capillaries of the lungs, taking oxygen from the air, and giving out carbonic acid. At _a_, and _b_ are seen the roots of two hairs, which abound in certain parts of the skin, and are nourished by the blood of the capillaries. [Illustration: Fig. 58.] [Illustration: Fig. 59.] At Fig. 59 is a magnified view of another set of vessels, called the lymphatics or absorbents. These are extremely minute vessels that interlace with the nerves and blood-vessels of the skin. Their office is to aid in collecting the useless, injurious, or decayed matter, and carry it to certain reservoirs, from which it passes into some of the large veins, to be thrown out through the lungs, bowels, kidneys, or skin. These _absorbent_ or _lymphatic_; vessels have mouths opening on the surface of the true skin, and, though covered by the cuticle, they can absorb both liquids and solids that are placed in close contact with the skin. In proof of this, one of the main trunks of the lymphatics in the hand can be cut off from all communication with other portions, and tied up: and if the hand is immersed in milk a given time, it will be found that the milk has been, absorbed through the cuticle and fills the lymphatics. In this way, long-continued blisters on the skin will introduce the blistering matter into the blood through the absorbents, and then the kidneys will take it up from the blood passing through them to carry it out of the body, and thus become irritated and inflamed by it. [Illustration: Fig. 60] There are also oil-tubes, imbedded in the skin, that draw off oil from the blood. This issues on the surface and spreads over the cuticle to keep it soft and moist. But the most curious part of the skin is the system of innumerable minute perspiration-tubes. Fig. 60 is a drawing of one very greatly magnified. These tubes open on the cuticle, and the openings are called pores of the skin. They descend into the true skin, and there form a coil, as is seen in the drawing. These tubes are hollow, like a pipe-stem, and their inner surface consists of wonderfully minute capillaries filled with the impure venous blood. And in these small tubes the same process is going on as takes places when the carbonic acid and water of the blood are exhaled from the lungs. The capillaries of these tubes through the whole skin of the body are thus constantly exhaling the noxious and decayed particles of the body, just as the lungs pour them out through the mouth and nose. It has been shown that the perspiration-tubes are coiled up into a ball at their base. The number and extent of these tubes are astonishing. In a square inch on the palm of the hand have been counted, through a microscope, thirty-five hundred of these tubes. Each one of them is about a quarter of an inch in length, including its coils. This makes the united lengths of these little tubes to be seventy-three feet to a square inch. Their united length, over the whole body is thus calculated to be equal to _twenty-eight miles_. What a wonderful apparatus this! And what mischiefs must ensue when the drainage from the body of such an extent as this becomes obstructed! But the inside of the body also has a skin, as have all its organs. The interior of the head, the throat, the gullet, the lungs, the stomach, and all the intestines, are lined with a skin. This is called the _mucous membrane_, because it is constantly secreting from the blood a slimy substance called _mucus_. When it accumulates in the lungs, it is called _phlegm_. This inner skin also has nerves, blood-vessels, and lymphatics. The outer skin joins to the inner at the month, the nose, and other openings of the body, and there is a constant sympathy between the two skins, and thus between the inner organs and the surface of the body. SECRETING ORGANS. Those vessels of the body which draw off certain portions of the blood and change it into a new form, to be employed for service or to be thrown out of the body, are called _secreting organs_. The skin in this sense is a secreting organ, as its perspiration-tubes secrete or separate the bad portions of the blood, and send them off. Of the internal secreting organs, the _liver_ is the largest. Its chief office is to secrete from the blood all matter not properly supplied with oxygen. For this purpose, a set of veins carries the blood of all the lower intestines to the liver, where the imperfectly oxidized matter is drawn off in the form of _bile_, and accumulated in a reservoir called the _gall-bladder_. Thence it passes to the place where the smaller intestines receive the food from the stomach, and there it mixes with this food. Then it passes through the long intestines, and is thrown out of the body through the rectum. This shows how it is, that want of pure and cool air and exercise causes excess of bile, from lack of oxygen. The liver also has arterial blood sent to nourish it, and corresponding veins to return this blood to the heart. So there are two sets of blood-vessels for the liver--one to secrete the bile, and the other to nourish the organ itself. The kidneys secrete from the arteries that pass, through them all excess of water in the blood, and certain injurious substances. These are carried through small tubes to the bladder, and thence thrown out of the body. The _pancreas_, a whitish gland, situated in the abdomen below the stomach, secretes from the arteries that pass through it the pancreatic juice, which unites with the bile from the liver, in preparing the food for nourishing the body. There are certain little glands near the eyes that secrete the tears, and others near the mouth that secrete the saliva, or spittle. These organs all have arteries sent to them to nourish them, and also veins to carry away the impure blood. At the same time, they secrete from the arterial blood the peculiar fluid which it is their office to supply. All the food that passes through the lower intestines which is not drawn off by the lacteals or by some of these secreting organs, passes from the body through a passage called the rectum. Learned men have made very curious experiments; to ascertain how much the several organs throw out of the body, It is found that the skin throws off five out of eight pounds of the food and drink, or probably about three or four pounds a day. The lungs throw off one quarter as much as the skin, or about a pound a day. The remainder is carried off by the kidneys and lower intestines. There is such a sympathy and connection between all the organs of the body, that when one of them is unable to work, the others perform the office of the feeble one. Thus, if the skin has its perspiration-tubes closed up by a chill, then all the poisonous matter that would have been thrown out through them must be emptied out either by the lungs, kidneys, or bowels. When all these organs are strong and healthy, they can bear this increased labor without injury. But if the lungs are weak, the blood sent from the skin by the chill engorges the weak blood-vessels, and produces an inflammation of the lungs. Or it increases the discharge of a slimy mucous substance, that exudes from the skin of the lungs. This fills up the air-vessels, and would very soon end life, were it not for the spasms of the lungs, called _coughing_, which throw off this substance. If, on the other hand, the bowels are weak, a chill of the skin sends the blood into all the blood-vessels of the intestines, and produces inflammation there, or else an excessive secretion of the mucous substance, which is called a _diarrhea._ Or if the kidneys are weak, there is an increased secretion and discharge from them, to an unhealthy and injurious extent. This connection between the skin and internal organs is shown, not only by the internal effects of a chill on the skin; but by the sympathetic effect on the skin when these internal organs suffer. For example, there are some kinds of food that will irritate and influence the stomach or the bowels; and this, by sympathy, will produce an immediate eruption on the skin. Some persons, on eating strawberries, will immediately be affected with a nettle-rash. Others can not eat certain shell-fish without being affected in this way. Many humors on the face are caused by a diseased state of the internal organs with which the skin sympathizes. This short account of the construction of the skin, and of its intimate connection with the internal organs, shows the philosophy of those modes of medical treatment that are addressed to this portion of the body. It is on this powerful agency that the steam-doctors rely, when, by moisture and heat, they stimulate all the innumerable perspiration-tubes and lymphatics to force out from the body a flood of unnaturally excited secretions; while it is "kill or cure," just as the chance may meet or oppose the demands of the case. It is the skin also that is the chief basis of medical treatment in the Water Cure, whose slow processes are as much safer as they are slower. At the same time it is the ill-treatment or neglect of the skin which, probably, is the cause of disease and decay to an incredible extent. The various particulars in which this may be seen will now be pointed out. In the management and care of this wonderful and complex part of the body, many mistakes have been made. The most common one is the misuse of the bath, especially since cold water cures have come into use. This mode of medical treatment originated with an ignorant peasant, amid a population where outdoor labor had strengthened nerves and muscles and imparted rugged powers to every part of the body. It was then introduced into England and America without due consideration or knowledge of the diseases habits, or real condition of patients, especially of women. The consequence was a mode of treatment too severe and exhausting; and many practices were spread abroad not warranted by true medical science. But in spite of these mistakes and abuses, the treatment of the skin for disease by the use of cold water has become an accepted doctrine of the most learned medical practitioners. It is now held by all such that fevers can be detected in their distinctive features by the thermometer, and that all fevers can be reduced by cold baths and packing in the wet sheet, in the mode employed in all water-cures. Directions for using this method will be given in another place. It has been supposed that large bath-tubs for immersing the whole person are indispensable to the proper cleaning of the skin. This is not so. A wet towel, applied every morning to the skin, followed by friction in pure air, is all that is absolutely needed; although a full bath is a great luxury. Access of air to every part of the skin when its perspiratory tubes are cleared and its blood-vessels are filled by friction is the best ordinary bath. In early life, children should be washed all over, every night or morning, to remove impurities from the skin. But in this process, careful regard should be paid to the peculiar constitution of a child. Very nervous children sometimes revolt from cold water, and like a tepid bath. Others prefer a cold bath; and nature should be the guide. It must be remembered that the skin is the great organ of sensation, and in close connection with brain, spine, and nerve-centres: so that what a strong nervous system can bear with advantage is too powerful and exhausting for another. As age advances, or as disease debilitates the body, great care should be taken not to overtax the nervous system by sudden shocks, or to diminish its powers by withdrawing animal heat to excess. Persons lacking robustness should bathe or use friction in a warm room; and if very delicate, should expose only a portion of the body at once to cold air. Johnson, a celebrated writer on agricultural chemistry, tells of an experiment by friction on the skin of pigs, whose skins are like that of the human race. He treated six of these animals with a curry-comb seven weeks, and left three other pigs untouched. The result was a gain of thirty-three pounds more of weight, with the use of five bushels less of food for those curried, than for the neglected ones. This result was owing to the fact that all the functions of the body were more perfectly performed when, by friction, the skin was kept free from filth and the blood in it exposed to the air. The same will be true of the human skin. A calculation has been made on this fact, by which it is estimated that a man, by proper care of his skin, would save over thirty-one dollars in food yearly, which is the interest on over five hundred dollars. If men will give as much care to their own skin, as they give to currying a horse, they will gain both health and wealth. XII. CLOTHING. There is no duty of those persons having control of a family where principle and practice are more at variance than in regulating the dress of young girls, especially at the most important and critical period of life. It is a difficult duty for parents and teachers to contend with the power of fashion, which at this time of a young girl's life is frequently the ruling thought, and when to be out of the fashion, to be odd and not dress as all her companions do, is a mortification and grief that no argument or instructions can relieve. The mother is often so overborne that, in spite of her better wishes, the daughter adopts modes of dress alike ruinous to health and to beauty. The greatest protection against such an emergency is to train a child to understand the construction of her own body and to impress upon her, in early days, her obligations to the invisible Friend and Guardian of her life, the "Former of her body and the Father of her spirit," who has committed to her care so precious and beautiful a casket. And the more she can be made to realize the skill and beauty of construction shown in her earthly frame, the more will she feel the obligation to protect it from injury and abuse. It is a singular fact that the war of fashion has attacked most fatally what seems to be the strongest foundation, and defense of the body, the bones. For this reason, the construction and functions of this part of the body will now receive attention. The bones are composed of two substances, one animal, and the other mineral. The animal part is a very fine network, called _cellular membrane._ In this are deposited the harder mineral substances, which are composed principally of carbonate and phosphate of lime. In very early life, the bones consist chiefly of the animal part, and are then soft and pliant. As the child advances in age, the bones grow harder, by the gradual deposition of the phosphate of lime, which is supplied by the food, and carried to the bones by the blood. In old age, the hardest material preponderates; malting the bones more brittle than in earlier life. The bones are covered with a thin skin or membrane, filled with small blood-vessels which convey nourishment to them, Where the hones unite with others to form joints, they are covered with _cartilage,_ which is a smooth, white, elastic substance. This enables the joints to move smoothly, while its elasticity prevents injuries from sudden jars. The joints are bound together by strong, elastic bands called _ligaments,_ which hold them firmly and prevent dislocation. Between the ends of the bones that unite to form joints are small sacks or bags, that contain a soft lubricating fluid. This answers the same purpose fur the joints as oil in making machinery work smoothly, while the supply is constant and always in exact proportion to the demand. If you will examine the leg of some fowl, you can see the cartilage that covers the ends of the bones at the joints, and the strong white ligaments that bind the joints together. The health, of the bones depends on the proper nourishment and exercise of the body as much as that of any other part. When a child is feeble and unhealthy, or when it grows up without exercise, the bones do not become firm and hard as they are when the body is healthfully developed by exercise. The size as well as the strength of the bones, to a certain extent, also depend upon exercise and good health. [Illustration: Fig. 61] The chief supporter of the body is the spine, which consists of twenty-four small bones, interlocked or hooked into each other, while between them are elastic cushions of cartilage which aid in preserving the upright, natural position. Fig. 61 shows three of the spinal bones, hooked into each other, the dark spaces showing the disks or flat circular plates of cartilage between them. The spine is held in its proper position, partly by the ribs, partly by muscles, partly by aid of the elastic disks, and partly by the close packing of the intestines in front of it. The upper part of the spine is often thrown out of its proper position by constant stooping of the head over books or work. This affects the elastic disks so that they grow thick at the back side and thinner at the front side by such constant pressure. The result is the awkward projection of the head forward which is often seen in schools and colleges. Another distortion of the spine is produced by tight dress around the waist. The liver occupies the right side of the body and is a solid mass, while on the other side is the larger part of the stomach, which is often empty. The consequence of tight dress around the waist is a constant pressure of the spine toward the unsupported part where the stomach lies. Thus the elastic dials again are compressed; till they become thinner on one side than the other, and harden into that condition. This produces what is called the _lateral curvature of the spine,_ making one shoulder higher than the other. The compression of the lower part of the waist is especially dangerous at the time young girls first enter society and are tempted to dress according to the fashion. Many a school-girl, whose waist was originally of a proper and healthful size, has gradually pressed the soft bones of youth until the lower ribs that should rise and fall with every breath, become entirely unused. Then the abdominal breathing, performed by the lower part of the lungs, ceases; the whole system becomes reduced in strength; the abdominal muscles that hold up the interior organs become weak, and the upper ones gradually sink upon the lower. This pressure of the upper interior organs upon the lower ones, by tight dress, is increased by the weight of clothing resting on the hips and abdomen. Corsets, as usually worn, have no support from the shoulders, and consequently all the weight of dress resting upon or above them presses upon the hips and abdomen, and this in such a way as to throw out of use and thus weaken the most important supporting muscles of the abdomen, and impede abdominal breathing. The diaphragm is a kind of muscular floor, extending across the centre of the body, on which the heart and lungs rest. Beneath it are the liver, stomach, and the abdominal viscera, or intestines, which are supported by the abdominal muscles, running upward, downward, and crosswise. When these muscles are thrown out of use, they lose their power, the whole system of organs mainly resting on them for support can not continue in their naturally snug, compact, and rounded form, but become separated, elongated, and unsupported. The stomach begins to draw from above instead of resting on the viscera beneath. This in some cases causes dull and wandering pains, a sense of pulling at the centre of the chest, and a drawing downward at the pit of the stomach. Then as the support beneath is really _gone,_ there is what is often called "a feeling of _goneness."_ This is sometimes relieved by food, which, so long as it remains in a solid form, helps to hold up the falling superstructure. This displacement of the stomach, liver, and spleen interrupts their healthful functions, and dyspepsia and biliary difficulties not unfrequently are the result. As the stomach and its appendages fall downward, the _diaphragm_, which holds up the heart and lungs, must descend also. In this state of things, the inflation of the lungs is less and less aided by the abdominal muscles, and is confined chiefly to their upper portion. Breathing sometimes thus becomes quicker and shorter on account of the elongated or debilitated condition of the assisting organs. Consumption not unfrequently results from this cause. The _heart_ also feels the evil. "Palpitations," "flutterings," "sinking feelings," all show that, in the language of Scripture, "the heart trembleth, and is moved out of its place." But the _lower intestines_ are the greatest sufferers from this dreadful abuse of nature. Having the weight of all the unsupported organs above pressing them into unnatural and distorted positions, the passage of the food is interrupted, and inflammations, indurations, and constipation, are the frequent result. Dreadful ulcers and cancers may be traced in some instances to this cause. Although these internal displacements are most common among women, some foolish members of the other sex are adopting customs of dress, in girding the central portion of the body, that tend to similar results. But this distortion brings upon woman peculiar distresses. The pressure of the whole superincumbent mass on the pelvic or lower organs induces sufferings proportioned in acuteness to the extreme delicacy and sensitiveness of the parts thus crushed. And the intimate connection of these organs with the brain and whole nervous system renders injuries thus inflicted the causes of the most extreme anguish, both of body and mind. This evil is becoming so common, not only among married women, but among young girls, as to be a just cause for universal alarm. How very common these sufferings are, few but the medical profession can realize, because they are troubles that must be concealed. Many a woman is moving about in uncomplaining agony who, with any other trouble involving equal suffering, would be on her bed surrounded by sympathizing friends. The terrible sufferings that are sometimes thus induced can never be conceived of, or at all appreciated from, any use of language. Nothing that the public can be made to believe on this subject will ever equal the reality. Not only mature persons and mothers, but fair young girls sometimes, are shut up for months and years as helpless and suffering invalids from this cause. This may be found all over the land. And there frequently is a horrible extremity of suffering in certain forms of this evil, which no woman of feeble constitution can ever be certain may not be her doom. Not that in all cases this extremity is involved, but none can say who will escape it. In regard to this, if one must choose for a friend or a child, on the one hand, the horrible torments inflicted by savage Indians or cruel inquisitors on their victims, or, on the other, the protracted agonies that result from such deformities and displacements, sometimes the former would be a merciful exchange. And yet this is the fate that is coming to meet the young as well as the mature in every direction. And tender parents are unconsciously leading their lovely and hapless daughters to this awful doom. There is no excitement of the imagination in what is here indicated. If the facts and details could be presented, they would send a groan of terror all over the land. For it is not one class, or one section, that is endangered. In every part of our country the evil is progressing. And, as if these dreadful ills were not enough, there have been added methods of medical treatment at once useless, torturing to the mind, and involving great liability to immoralities. [Illustration: Fig. 62.] In hope of abating these evils, drawings are given (Fig. 62 and Fig. 63) of the front and back of a jacket that will preserve the advantages of the corset without its evils. This jacket may at first be fitted to the figure with corsets underneath it, just like the waist of a dress. Then, delicate whalebones can be used to stiffen the jacket, so that it will take the proper shape, when the corset may be dispensed with. The buttons below are to hold all articles of dress below the waist by button-holes. By this method, the bust is supported as well as by corsets, while the shoulders support from above, as they should do, the weight of the dress below. No stiff bone should be allowed to press in front, and the jacket should be so loose that a full breath can be inspired with ease, while in a sitting position. [Illustration: Fig. 63.] The proper way to dress a young girl is to have a cotton or flannel close-fitting jacket next the body, to which the drawers should be buttoned. Over this, place the chemise; and over that, such a jacket as the one here drawn, to which should be buttoned the hoops and other skirts. Thus every article of dress will be supported by the shoulders. The sleeves of the jacket can be omitted, and in that ease a strong lining, and also a tape binding, must surround the arm-hole, which should be loose. It is hoped that increase of intelligence and moral power among mothers, and a combination among them to regulate fashions, may banish the pernicious practices that have prevailed. If a school-girl dress without corsets and without tight belts could be established as a fashion, it would be one step gained in the right direction. Then if mothers could secure daily domestic exercise in chambers, eating-rooms and parlors in loose dresses, a still farther advance would be secured. A friend of the writer informs her that her daughter had her wedding outfit made up by a fashionable milliner in Paris, and every dress was beautifully fitted to the form, and yet was not compressing to any part. This was done too without the use of corsets, the stiffening being delicate and yielding whalebones. Not only parents but all having the care of young girls, especially those at boarding-schools, have a fearful responsibility resting upon them in regard to this important duty. In regard to the dressing of young children, much discretion is needed to adapt dress to circumstances and peculiar constitutions. The leading fact must be borne in mind that the skin is made strong and healthful by exposure to light and pure air, while cold air, if not excessive, has a tonic influence. If the skin of infants is rubbed with the hand till red with blood, and then exposed naked to sun and air in a well-ventilated room, it will be favorable to health. There is a constitutional difference in the skin of different children in regard to retaining the animal heat manufactured within, so that some need more clothing than others for comfort. Nature is a safe guide to a careful nurse and mother, and will indicate by the looks and actions of a child when more clothing is needful. As a general rule, it is safe for a healthful child to wear as little clothing as suffices to keep it from complaining of cold. Fifty years ago, it was not common for children to wear as much under-clothing as they now do. The writer well remembers how even girls, though not of strong constitutions, used to play for hours in the snow-drifts without the protection of drawers, kept warm by exercise and occasional runs to an open fire. And multitudes of children grew to vigorous maturity through similar exposures to cold air-baths, and without the frequent, colds and sicknesses so common among children of the present day, who are more carefully housed and warmly dressed. But care was taken that the feet should be kept dry and warmly clad, because, circulation being feebler in the extremities, this precaution was important. It must also be considered that age brings with it decrease in vigor of circulation, and the consequent generation of heat, so that more warmth of air and clothing is needed at an advanced period of life than is suitable for the young. These are the general principles which must be applied with modification to each individual case. A child of delicate constitution must have more careful protection from cold air than is desirable for one more vigorous, while the leading general principle is retained that cold air is a healthful tonic for the skin whenever it does not produce an uncomfortable chilliness. XIII. GOOD COOKING. There are but a few things on which health, and happiness depend more than on the manner in which food is cooked. You may make houses enchantingly beautiful, hang them with pictures, have them clean and airy and convenient; but if the stomach is fed with sour bread and burnt meats, it will raise such rebellions that the eyes will see no beauty anywhere. The abundance of splendid material we have in America is in great contrast with the style of cooking most prevalent in our country. How often, in journeys, do we sit down to tables loaded with material, originally of the very best kind, winch has been so spoiled in the treatment that there is really nothing to eat! Green biscuits with acrid spots of alkali; sour yeast-bread; meat slowly simmered in fat till it seemed like grease itself, and slowly congealing in cold grease; and above all, that unpardonable enormity, strong butter! How one longs to show people what might have been done with the raw material out of which all these monstrosities were concocted! There is no country where an ample, well-furnished table is more easily spread, and for that reason, perhaps, none where the bounties of Providence are more generally neglected. Considering that our resources are greater than those of any other civilized people, our results are comparatively poorer. It is said that a list of the summer vegetables which are exhibited on New-York hotel-tables being shown to a French _artiste_, he declared that to serve such a dinner properly would take till midnight. A traveler can not but be struck with our national plenteousness, on returning from a Continental tour, and going directly from the ship to a New-York hotel, in the bounteous season of autumn. For months habituated to neat little bits of chop or poultry, garnished with the inevitable cauliflower or potato, which seemed to be the sole possibility after the reign of green peas was over; to sit down all at once to such a carnival! to such ripe, juicy tomatoes, raw or cooked; cucumbers in brittle slices; rich, yellow sweet-potatoes; broad lima-beans, and beans of other and various names; tempting ears of Indian-corn steaming in enormous piles; great smoking tureens of the savory succotash, an Indian gift to the table for which civilization need not blush; sliced egg-plant in delicate fritters; and marrow- squashes, of creamy pulp and sweetness; a rich variety, embarrassing to the appetite, and perplexing to the choice. Verily, the thought must often occur that the vegetarian doctrine preached in America leaves a man quite as much as he has capacity to eat or enjoy, and that in the midst of such tantalizing abundance he has really lost the apology, which elsewhere bears him out in preying upon his less gifted and accomplished animal neighbors. But with all this, the American table, taken as a whole, is inferior to that of England or France. It presents a fine abundance of material, carelessly and poorly treated. The management of food is nowhere in the world, perhaps, more slovenly and wasteful. Every thing betokens that want of care that waits on abundance; there are great capabilities and poor execution. A tourist through England can seldom fail, at the quietest country-inn, of finding himself served with the essentials of English table-comfort--his mutton-chop done to a turn, his steaming little private apparatus for concocting his own tea, his choice pot of marmalade or slice of cold ham, and his delicate rolls and creamy butter, all served with care and neatness. In France, one never asks in vain for delicious _cafe-au-lait_, good bread and butter, a nice omelet, or some savory little portion of meat with a French name. But to a tourist taking like chance in American country-fare, what is the prospect? What is the coffee? what the tea? and the meat? and above all, the butter? In writing on cooking, the main topics should be first, bread; second, butter; third, meat; fourth, vegetables; and fifth, tea--by which last is meant, generally, all sorts of warm, comfortable drinks served out in tea-cups, whether they be called tea, coffee, chocolate, broma, or what not. If these five departments are all perfect, the great ends of domestic cookery are answered, so far as the comfort and well-being of life are concerned. There exists another department, which is often regarded by culinary amateurs and young aspirants as the higher branch and very collegiate course of practical cookery; to wit, confectionery, by which is designated all pleasing and complicated compounds of sweets and spices, devised not for health and nourishment, and strongly suspected of interfering with both--mere tolerated gratifications of the palate, which we eat, not with the expectation of being benefited, but only with the hope of not being injured by them. In this large department rank all sorts of cakes, pies, preserves, etc., whose excellence is often attained by treading under foot and disregarding the five grand essentials. There is many a table garnished with three or four kinds of well-made cake, compounded with citron and spices and all imaginable good things, where the meat was tough and greasy, the bread some hot preparation of flour, lard, saleratus, and acid, and the butter unutterably detestable, where, if the mistress of the feast had given the care, time, and labor to preparing the simple items of bread, butter, and meat, that she evidently had given to the preparation of these extras, the lot of her guests and family might be much more comfortable. But she does not think of these common articles as constituting a good table. So long as she has puff pastry, rich black cake, clear jelly and preserves, she considers that such unimportant matters as bread, butter, and meat may take care of themselves. It is the same inattention to common things as that which leads people to build houses with stone fronts, and window-caps and expensive front-door trimmings, without bathing-rooms or fireplaces, or ventilators. Those who go into the country looking for summer board in farm-houses know perfectly well that a table where the butter is always fresh, the tea and coffee of the best kinds and well made, and the meats properly kept, dressed, and served, is the one table of a hundred, the fabulous enchanted island. It seems impossible to get the idea into the minds of many people that what is called common food, carefully prepared, becomes, in virtue of that very care and attention, a delicacy, superseding the necessity of artificially compounded dainties. To begin, then, with the very foundation of a good table: --_Bread:_ What ought it to be? It should be light, sweet, and tender. This matter of lightness is the distinctive line between savage and civilized bread. The savage mixes simple flour and water into balls of paste, which he throws into boiling water, and which come out solid, glutinous masses, of which his common saying is, "Man eat dis, he no die," which a facetious traveler who was obliged to subsist on it interpreted to mean, "Dis no kill you, nothing will." In short, it requires the stomach of a wild animal or of a savage to digest this primitive form of bread, and of course more or less attention in all civilized modes of bread-making is given to producing lightness. By lightness is meant simply that in order to facilitate digestion the particles are to be separated from each other by little holes or air-cells; and all the different methods of making light bread are neither more nor less than the formation of bread with these air-cells. So far as we know, there are four practicable methods of aerating bread; namely, by fermentation; by effervescence of an acid and an alkali; by aerated egg, or egg which has been filled with air by the process of beating; and lastly, by pressure of some gaseous substance into the paste, by a process much resembling the impregnation of water in a soda-fountain. All those have one and the same object--to give us the cooked particles of our flour separated by such permanent air-cells as will enable the stomach more readily to digest them. A very common mode of aerating bread in America is by the effervescence of an acid and an alkali in the flour. The carbonic acid gas time formed products minute air-cells in the bread, or, as the cook says, makes it light. When this process is performed with exact attention to chemical laws, so that the acid and alkali completely neutralize each other, leaving no overplus of either, the result is often very palatable. The difficulty is, that this is a happy conjunction of circumstances which seldom occurs. The acid most commonly employed is that of sour milk, and, as milk has many degrees of sourness, the rule of a certain quantity of alkali to the pint must necessarily produce very different results at different times. As an actual fact where this mode of making bread prevails, as we lament to say it does to a great extent in this country, one finds five cases of failure to one of success. It is a woeful thing that the daughters of our land have abandoned the old respectable mode of yeast-brewing and bread-raising for this specious substitute, so easily made, and so seldom well made. The green, clammy, acrid substance, called biscuit, which many of our worthy republicans are obliged to eat in these days, is wholly unworthy of the men and women of the republic. Good patriots ought not to be put off in that way--they deserve better fare. As an occasional variety, as a household convenience for obtaining bread or biscuit at a moment's notice, the process of effervescence may be retained; but, we earnestly entreat American housekeepers, in scriptural language, to stand in the way and ask for the old paths, and return to the good yeast-bread of their sainted grandmothers. If acid and alkali must be used, by all means let them be mixed in due proportions. No cook should be left to guess and judge for herself about this matter. There are articles made by chemical rule which produce very perfect results, and the use of them obviates the worst dangers in making bread by effervescence. Of all processes of aeration in bread-making, the oldest and most time-honored mode is by fermentation. That this was known in the days of our Saviour is evident from the forcible simile in which he compares the silent permeating force of truth in human, society to the very familiar household process of raising bread by a little yeast. There is, however, one species of yeast, much used in some parts of the country, against which protest should be made. It is called salt-risings, or milk-risings, and is made by mixing flour, milk, and a little salt together, and leaving them to ferment. The bread thus produced is often, very attractive, when new and made with great care. It is white and delicate, with fine, even air-cells. It has, however, when kept, some characteristics which remind us of the terms in which our old English Bible describes the effect of keeping the manna of the ancient Israelites, which we are informed, in words more explicit than agreeable, "stank, and bred worms." If salt-rising bread does not fulfill the whole of this unpleasant description, it certainly does emphatically a part of it. The smell which it has in baking, and when more than a day old, suggests the inquiry, whether it is the saccharine or the putrid fermentation with which it is raised. Whoever breaks a piece of it after a day or two, will often see minute filaments or clammy strings drawing out from the fragments, which, with the unmistakable smell, will cause him to pause before consummating a nearer acquaintance. The fermentation of flour by means of brewer's or distiller's yeast produces, if rightly managed, results far more palatable and wholesome. The only requisites for success in it are, first, good materials, and, second, great care in small things. There are certain low-priced or damaged kinds of flour which can never by any kind of domestic chemistry be made into good broad; and to those persons whose stomachs forbid them to eat gummy, glutinous paste, under the name of bread, there is no economy in buying these poor brands, even at half the price of good flour. But good flour and good yeast being supposed, with a temperature favorable to the development of fermentation, the whole success of the process depends on the thorough diffusion of the proper proportion of yeast through the whole mass, and on stopping the subsequent fermentation at the precise and fortunate point. The true housewife makes her bread the sovereign of her kitchen--its behests must be attended to in all critical points and moments, no matter what else be postponed. She who attends to her bread only when she has done this, and arranged that, and performed the other, very often finds that the forces of nature will not wait for her. The snowy mass, perfectly mixed, kneaded with care and strength, rises in its beautiful perfection till the moment comes for filling the air-cells by baking. A few minutes now, and the acetous fermentation will begin, and the whole result be spoiled. Many bread-makers pass in utter carelessness over this sacred and mysterious boundary. Their oven has cake in it, or they are skimming jelly, or attending to some other of the so-called higher branches of cookery, while the bread is quickly passing into the acetous stage. At last, when they are ready to attend to it, they find that it has been going its own way,--it is so sour that the pungent smell is plainly perceptible. Now the saleratus-bottle is handed down, and a quantity of the dissolved alkali mixed with the paste--an expedient sometimes making itself too manifest by greenish streaks or small acrid spots in the bread. As the result, we have a beautiful article spoiled--bread without sweetness, if not absolutely sour. In the view of many, lightness is the only property required in this article. The delicate refined sweetness which exists in carefully kneaded bread, baked just before it passes to the extreme point of fermentation, is something, of which they have no conception; and thus they will even regard this process of spoiling the paste by the acetous fermentation, and then rectifying that acid by effervescence with an alkali, as something positively meritorious. How else can they value and relish bakers' loaves, such as some are, drugged with ammonia and other disagreeable things; light indeed, so light that they seem to have neither weight nor substance, but with no more sweetness or taste than so much cotton wool? Some persons prepare bread for the oven by simply mixing it in the mass, without kneading, pouring it into pans, and suffering it to rise there. The air-cells in bread thus prepared are coarse and uneven; the bread is as inferior in delicacy and nicety to that which is well kneaded as a raw servant to a perfectly educated and refined lady. The process of kneading seems to impart an evenness to the minute air-cells, a fineness of texture, and a tenderness and pliability to the whole substance, that can be gained in no other way. The divine principle of beauty has its reign over bread as well as over all other things; it has its laws of aesthetics; and that bread which is so prepared that it can be formed into separate and well-proportioned loaves, each one carefully worked and moulded, will develop the most beautiful results. After being moulded, the loaves should stand usually not over ten minutes, just long enough to allow the fermentation going on in them to expand each little air-cell to the point at which it stood before it was worked down, and then they should be immediately put into the oven. Many a good thing, however, is spoiled in the oven. We can not but regret, for the sake of bread, that our old steady brick ovens have been almost universally superseded by those of ranges and cooking-stoves, which are infinite in their caprices, and forbid all general rules. One thing, however, may be borne in mind as a principle--that the excellence of bread in all its varieties, plain or sweetened, depends on the perfection of its air-cells, whether produced by yeast, egg, or effervescence; that one of the objects of baking is to fix these air-cells, and that the quicker this can be done through the whole mass, the better will the result be. When cake or bread is made heavy by baking too quickly, it is because the immediate formation of the top crust hinders the exhaling of the moisture in the centre, and prevents the air-cells from cooking. The weight also of the crust pressing down on the doughy air-cells below destroys them, producing that horror of good cooks, a heavy streak. The problem in baking, then, is the quick application of heat rather below than above the loaf, and its steady continuance till all the air-cells are thoroughly dried into permanent consistency. Every housewife must watch her own oven to know how this can be best accomplished. Bread-making can be cultivated to any extent as a fine art--and the various kinds of biscuit, tea-rusks, twists, rolls, into which bread may be made, are much better worth a housekeeper's ambition than the getting-up of rich and expensive cake or confections. There are also varieties of material which are rich in good effects. Unbolted flour, altogether more wholesome than the fine wheat, and when properly prepared more palatable--rye-flour and corn-meal, each affording a thousand attractive possibilities--all of these come under the general laws of bread-stuffs, and are worth a careful attention. A peculiarity of our American table, particularly in the Southern and Western States, is the constant exhibition of various preparations of hot bread. In many families of the South and West, bread in loaves to be eaten cold is an article quite unknown. The effect of this kind of diet upon the health has formed a frequent subject of remark among travelers; but only those know the full mischiefs of it who have been compelled to sojourn for a length of time in families where it is maintained. The unknown horrors of dyspepsia from bad bread are a topic over which we willingly draw a veil. Next to Bread comes _Butter_--on which we have to say, that, when we remember what butter is in civilized Europe, and compare it with what it is in America, we wonder at the forbearance and lenity of travelers in their strictures on our national commissariat. Butter, in England, France, and Italy, is simply solidified cream, with all the sweetness of the cream in its taste, freshly churned each day, and unadulterated by salt. At the present moment, when salt is five cents a pound and butter fifty, we Americans are paying, at high prices, for about one pound of salt to every ten of butter, and those of us who have eaten the butter of France and England do this with rueful recollections. There is, it is true, an article of butter made in the American style with salt, which, in its own kind and way, has a merit not inferior to that of England and France. Many prefer it, and it certainly takes a rank equally respectable with the other. It is yellow, hard, and worked so perfectly free from every particle of buttermilk that it might make the voyage of the world without spoiling. It is salted, but salted with care and delicacy, so that it may be a question whether even a fastidious Englishman might not prefer its golden solidity to the white, creamy freshness of his own. But it is to be regretted that this article is the exception, and not the rule, on our tables. America must have the credit of manufacturing and putting into market more bad butter than all that is made in all the rest of the world together. The varieties of bad tastes and smells which prevail in it are quite a study. This has a cheesy taste, that a mouldy, this is flavored with cabbage, and that again with turnip, and another has the strong, sharp savor of rancid animal fat. These varieties probably come from the practice of churning only at long intervals, and keeping the cream meanwhile in unventilated cellars or dairies, the air of which is loaded with the effluvia of vegetable substances. No domestic articles are so sympathetic as those of the milk tribe: they readily take on the smell and taste of any neighboring substance, and hence the infinite variety of flavors on which one mournfully muses who has late in autumn to taste twenty firkins of butter in hopes of finding one which will simply not be intolerable on his winter table. A matter for despair as regards bad butter is, that at the tables where it is used it stands sentinel at the door to bar your way to every other kind of food. You turn from your dreadful half-slice of bread, which fills your mouth with bitterness, to-your beef-steak, which proves virulent with the same poison; you think to take refuge in vegetable diet, and find the butter in the string-beans, and polluting the innocence of early peas; it is in the corn, hi the succotash, in the squash; the beets swim in it, the onions have it poured over them. Hungry and miserable, you think to solace yourself at the dessert; but the pastry is cursed, the cake is acrid with the same plague. You are ready to howl with despair, and your misery is great upon you--especially if this is a table where you have taken board for three months with your delicate wife and four small children. Your case is dreadful, and it is hopeless, because long usage and habit have rendered your host perfectly incapable of discovering what is the matter. "Don't like the butter, sir? I assure you I paid an extra price for it, and it's the very best in the market. I looked over as many as a hundred tubs, and picked out this one." You are dumb, but not less despairing. Yet the process of making good butter is a very simple one. To keep the cream in a perfectly pure, cool atmosphere, to churn while it is yet sweet, to work out the buttermilk thoroughly, and to add salt with such discretion as not to ruin the fine, delicate flavor of the fresh cream--all this is quite simple, so simple that one wonders at thousands and millions of pounds of butter yearly manufactured which are merely a hobgoblin bewitchment of cream into foul and loathsome poisons. The third head of my discourse is that of _Meat_, of which America furnishes, in the gross material, enough to spread our tables royally, were it well cared for and served. The faults in the meat generally furnished to us are, first, that it is too new. A beef steak, which three or four days of keeping might render palatable, is served up to us palpitating with freshness, with all the toughness of animal muscle yet warm. In the next place, there is a woeful lack of nicety in the butcher's work of cutting and preparing meat. Who that remembers the neatly trimmed mutton-chop of an English inn, or the artistic little circle of lamb-chop fried in bread-crumbs coiled around a tempting centre of spinach which may always be found in France, can recognize any family resemblance to those dapper, civilized preparations, in these coarse, roughly-hacked strips of bone, gristle, and meat which are commonly called mutton-chop in America? There seems to be a large dish of something resembling meat, in which each fragment has about two or three edible morsels, the rest being composed of dry and burnt skin, fat, and ragged bone. Is it not time that civilization should learn to demand somewhat more care and nicety in the modes of preparing what is to be cooked and eaten? Might not some of the refinement and trimness which characterize the preparations of the European market be with advantage introduced into our own? The housekeeper who wishes to garnish her table with some of those nice things is stopped in the outset by the butcher. Except in our large cities, where some foreign travel may have created the demand, it seems impossible to get much in this line that is properly prepared. If this is urged on the score of aesthetics, the ready reply will be, "Oh! we can't give time here in America to go into niceties and French whim-whams!" But the French mode of doing almost all practical things is based on that true philosophy and utilitarian good sense which characterize that seemingly thoughtless people. Nowhere is economy a more careful study, and their market is artistically arranged to this end. The rule is so to cut their meats that no portion designed to be cooked in a certain manner shall have wasteful appendages which that mode of cooking will spoil. The French soup-kettle stands ever ready to receive the bones, the thin fibrous flaps, the sinewy and gristly portions, which are so often included in our roasts or broilings, which fill our plates with unsightly _debris_, and finally make an amount of blank waste for which we pay our butcher the same price that we pay for what we have eaten. The dead waste of our clumsy, coarse way of cutting meats is immense. For example, at the beginning of the season, the part of a lamb denominated leg and loin, or hind-quarter, may sell for thirty cents a pound. Now this includes, besides the thick, fleshy portions, a quantity of bone, sinew, and thin fibrous substance, constituting full one third of the whole weight. If we put it into the oven entire, in the usual manner, we have the thin parts over-done, and the skinny and fibrous parts utterly dried up, by the application of the amount of heat necessary to cook the thick portion. Supposing the joint to weigh six pounds, at thirty cents, and that one third of the weight is so treated as to become perfectly useless, we throw away sixty cents. Of a piece of beef at twenty-five cents a pound, fifty cents' worth is often lost in bone, fat, and burnt skin. The fact is, this way of selling and cooking meat in large, gross portions is of English origin, and belongs to a country where all the customs of society spring from a class who have no particular occasion for economy. The practice of minute and delicate division comes from a nation which acknowledges the need of economy, and has made it a study. A quarter of lamb in this mode of division would be sold in three nicely prepared portions. The thick part would be sold by itself, for a neat, compact little roast; the rib-bones would be artistically separated, and all the edible matter would form those delicate dishes of lamb-chop, which, fried in bread-crumbs to a golden brown, are so ornamental and palatable a side-dish; the trimmings which remain after this division would be destined to the soup-kettle or stew-pan. In a French market is a little portion for every purse, and the far-famed and delicately flavored soups and stews which have arisen out of French economy are a study worth a housekeeper's attention. Not one atom of food is wasted in the French modes of preparation; even tough animal cartilages and sinews, instead of appearing burned and blackened in company with the roast meat to which they happen to be related, are treated according to their own laws, and come out either in savory soups, or those fine, clear meat-jellies which form a garnish no less agreeable to the eye than palatable to the taste. Whether this careful, economical, practical style of meat-cooking can ever to any great extent be introduced into our kitchens now is a question. Our butchers are against it; our servants are wedded to the old wholesale wasteful ways, which seem to them easier because they are accustomed to them. A cook who will keep and properly tend a soup-kettle which shall receive and utilize all that the coarse preparations of the butcher would require her to trim away, who understands the art of making the most of all these remains, is a treasure scarcely to be hoped for. If such things are to be done, it must be primarily through the educated brain of cultivated women who do not scorn to turn their culture and refinement upon domestic problems. When meats have been properly divided, so that each portion can receive its own appropriate style of treatment, next comes the consideration of the modes of cooking. These may be divided into two great general classes: those where it is desired to keep the juices within the meat, as in baking, broiling, and frying--and those whose object is to extract the juice and dissolve the fibre, as in the making of soups and stews. In the first class of operations, the process must be as rapid as may consist with the thorough cooking of all the particles. In this branch of cookery, doing quickly is doing well. The fire must be brisk, the attention alert. The introduction of cooking-stoves offers to careless domestics facilities for gradually drying-up meats, and despoiling them of all flavor and nutriment--facilities which appear to be very generally accepted. They have almost banished the genuine, old-fashioned roast-meat from our tables, and left in its stead dried meats with their most precious and nutritive juices evaporated. How few cooks, unassisted, are competent to the simple process of broiling a beefsteak or mutton-chop! how very generally one has to choose between these meats gradually dried away, or burned on the outside and raw within! Yet in England these articles _never_ come on the table done amiss; their perfect cooking is as absolute a certainty as the rising of the sun. No one of these rapid processes of cooking, however, is so generally abused as frying. The frying-pan has awful sins to answer for. What untold horrors of dyspepsia have arisen from its smoky depths, like the ghost from witches' caldrons! The fizzle of frying meat is a warning knell on many an ear, saying, "Touch not, taste not, if you would not burn and writhe!" Yet those who have traveled abroad remember that some of the lightest, most palatable, and most digestible preparations of meat have come from this dangerous source. But we fancy quite other rites and ceremonies inaugurated the process, and quite other hands performed its offices, than those known to our kitchens. Probably the delicate _cotelettes_ of France are not flopped down into half-melted grease, there gradually to warm and soak and fizzle, while Biddy goes in and out on her other ministrations, till finally, when they are thoroughly saturated, and dinner-hour impends, she bethinks herself, and crowds the fire below to a roaring heat, and finishes the process by a smart burn, involving the kitchen and surrounding precincts in volumes of Stygian gloom. From such preparations has arisen the very current medical opinion that fried meats are indigestible. They are indigestible, if they are greasy; but French cooks have taught us that a thing has no more need to be greasy because emerging from grease than Venus had to be salt because she rose from the sea. There are two ways of frying employed by the French cook. One is, to immerse the article to be cooked in _boiling_ fat, with an emphasis on the present participle--and the philosophical principle is, so immediately to crisp every pore, at the first moment or two of immersion, as effectually to seal the interior against the intrusion of greasy particles; it can then remain as long as may be necessary thoroughly to cook it, without imbibing any more of the boiling fluid than if it were inclosed in an egg-shell. The other method is to rub a perfectly smooth iron surface with just enough of some oily substance to prevent the meat from adhering, and cook it with a quick heat, as cakes are baked, on a griddle. In both these cases there must be the most rapid application of heat that can be made without burning, and by the adroitness shown in working out this problem the skill of the cook is tested. Any one whose cook attains this important secret will find fried things quite as digestible, and often more palatable, than any other. In the second department of meat-cookery, to wit, the slow and gradual application of heat for the softening and dissolution of its fibre and the extraction of its juices, common cooks are equally untrained. Where is the so-called cook who understands how to prepare soups and stews? These are precisely the articles in which a French kitchen excels. The soup-kettle, made with a double bottom, to prevent burning, is a permanent, ever-present institution, and the coarsest and most impracticable meats distilled through that alembic come out again in soups, jellies, or savory stews. The toughest cartilage, even the bones, being first cracked, are here made to give forth their hidden virtues, and to rise in delicate and appetizing forms. One great law governs all these preparations: the application of heat must be gradual, steady, long protracted, never reaching the point of active boiling. Hours of quiet simmering dissolve all dissoluble parts, soften the sternest fibre, and unlock every minute cell in which Nature has stored away her treasures of nourishment. This careful and protracted application of heat and the skillful use of flavors constitute the two main points in all those nice preparations of meat for which the French have so many names--processes by which a delicacy can be imparted to the coarsest and cheapest food superior to that of the finest articles under less philosophic treatment. French soups and stews are a study, and they would not be an unprofitable one to any person who wishes to live with comfort and even elegance on small means. There is no animal fibre that will not yield itself up to long- continued, steady heat. But the difficulty with almost any of the common servants who call themselves cooks is, that they have not the smallest notion of the philosophy of the application of heat. Such a one will complacently tell you concerning certain meats, that the harder you boil them the harder they grow--an obvious fact which, under her mode of treatment by an indiscriminate galloping boil, has frequently come under her personal observation. If you tell her that such meat must stand for six hours in a heat just below the boiling point, she will probably answer, "Yes, ma'am," and go on her own way. Or she will let it stand till it burns to the bottom of the kettle--a most common termination of the experiment. The only way to make sure of the matter is, either to obtain a French kettle, or to fit into an ordinary kettle a false bottom, such as any tinman may make, that shall leave a space of an inch or two between the meat and the fire. This kettle may be maintained in a constant position on the range, and into it the cook maybe instructed to throw all the fibrous trimmings of meat, all the gristle, tendons, and bones, having previously broken up these last with a mallet. Such a kettle, the regular occupant of a French cooking-stove, which they call the _pot au feu_, will furnish the basis for clear, rich soups, or other palatable dishes. This is ordinarily called "stock." Clear soup consists of the dissolved juices of the meat and gelatine of the bones, cleared from the fat and fibrous portions by straining. The grease, which rises to the top of the fluid, may be easily removed when cold. English and American soups are often heavy and hot with spices. There are appreciable tastes in them. They burn your mouth with cayenne, or clove, or allspice. You can tell at once what is in them, oftentimes to your sorrow. But a French soup has a flavor which one recognizes at once as delicious, yet not to be characterized as due to any single condiment; it is the just blending of many things. The same remark applies to all their stews; ragouts, and other delicate preparations. No cook will ever study these flavors; but perhaps many cooks' mistresses may, and thus, be able to impart delicacy and comfort to economy. As to those things called hashes, commonly manufactured by unwatched, untaught cooks out of the remains of yesterday's meal, let us not dwell too closely on their memory--compounds of meat, gristle, skin, fat, and burnt fibre, with a handful of pepper and salt flung at them, dredged with lumpy flour, watered from the spout of the tea-kettle, and left to simmer at the cook's convenience while she is otherwise occupied. Such are the best performances a housekeeper can hope for from an untrained cook. But the cunningly devised minces, the artful preparations choicely flavored, which may be made of yesterday's repast--by these is the true domestic artist known. No cook untaught by an educated brain ever makes these, and yet economy is a great gainer by them. As regards the department of _Vegetables_, their number and variety in America are so great that a table might almost be furnished by these alone. Generally speaking, their cooking is a more simple art, and therefore more likely to be found satisfactorily performed, than that of meats. If only they are not drenched with rancid butter, their own native excellence makes itself known in most of the ordinary modes of preparation. There is, however, one exception. Our staunch old friend, the potato, is to other vegetables what bread is on the table. Like bread, it is held as a sort of _sine-qua-non_; like that, it may be made invariably palatable by a little care in a few plain particulars, through neglect of which it often becomes intolerable. The soggy, waxy, indigestible viand that often appears in the potato-dish is a downright sacrifice of the better nature of this vegetable. The potato, nutritive and harmless as it appears, belongs to a family suspected of very dangerous traits. It is a family connection of the deadly-nightshade and other ill-reputed gentry, and sometimes shows strange proclivities to evil--now breaking out uproariously, as in the noted potato-rot, and now more covertly, in various evil affections. For this reason scientific directors bid us beware of the water in which potatoes are boiled-into which, it appears, the evil principle is drawn off; and they caution us not to shred them into stews without previously suffering the slices to lie for an hour or so in salt and water. These cautions are worth attention. The most usual modes of preparing the potato for the table are by roasting or boiling. These processes are so simple that it is commonly supposed every cook understands them without special directions; and yet there is scarcely an uninstructed cook who can boil or roast a potato. A good roasted potato is a delicacy worth a dozen compositions of the cook-book; yet when we ask for it, what burnt, shriveled abortions are presented to us! Biddy rushes to her potato-basket and pours out two dozen of different sizes, some having in them three times the amount of matter of others. These being washed, she tumbles them into her oven at a leisure interval, and there lets them lie till it is time to serve breakfast, whenever that may be. As a result, if the largest are cooked, the smallest are presented in cinders, and the intermediate sizes are withered and watery. Nothing is so utterly ruined by a few moments of overdoing. That which at the right moment was plump with mealy richness, a quarter of an hour later shrivels and becomes watery-- and it is in this state that roast potatoes are most frequently served. In the same manner we have seen boiled potatoes from an untaught cook coming upon the table like lumps of yellow wax--and the same article, under the directions of a skillful mistress, appearing in snowy balls of powdery whiteness. In the one case, they were thrown in their skins into water, and suffered to soak or boil, as the case might be, at the cook's leisure, and after they were boiled to stand in the water till she was ready to peel them. In the other case, the potatoes being first peeled were boiled as quickly as possible in salted water, which the moment they were done was drained off, and then they were gently shaken for a moment or two over the fire to dry them still more thoroughly. We have never yet seen the potato so depraved and given over to evil that it could not be reclaimed by this mode of treatment. As to fried potatoes, who that remembers the crisp, golden slices of the French restaurant, thin as wafers and light as snow-flakes, does not speak respectfully of them? What cousinship with these have those coarse, greasy masses of sliced potato, wholly soggy and partly burnt, to which we are treated under the name of fried potatoes in America? In our cities the restaurants are introducing the French article to great acceptance, and to the vindication of the fair fame of this queen of vegetables. Finally, we arrive at the last great head of our subject, to wit-- _Tea_--meaning thereby, as before observed, what our Hibernian friend did in the inquiry, "Will y'r honor take 'tay tay' or coffee tay?" We are not about to enter into the merits of the great tea-and-coffee controversy, further than in our general caution concerning them in the chapter on Healthful Drinks; but we now proceed to treat of them as actual existences, and speak only of the modes of making the best of them. The French coffee is reputed the best in the world; and a thousand voices have asked, What is it about the French coffee? In the first place, then, the French coffee is coffee, and not chickory, or rye, or beans, or peas. In the second place, it is freshly roasted, whenever made--roasted with great care and evenness in a little revolving cylinder which makes part of the furniture of every kitchen, and which keeps in the aroma of the berry. It is never overdone, so as to destroy the coffee-flavor, which is in nine cases out of tent the fault of the coffee we meet with. Then it is ground, and placed in a coffee-pot with a filter through which, when it has yielded up its life to the boiling water poured upon it, the delicious extract percolates in clear drops, the coffee-pot standing on a heated stove to maintain the temperature. The nose of the coffee-pot is stopped up to prevent the escape of the aroma during this process. The extract thus obtained is a perfectly clear, dark fluid, known as _caf noir_, or black coffee. It is black only because of its strength, being in fact almost the very essential oil of coffee. A table-spoonful of this in boiled milk would make what is ordinarily called a strong cup of coffee. The boiled milk is prepared with no less care. It must be fresh and new, not merely warmed or even brought to the boiling-point, but slowly simmered till it attains a thick, creamy richness. The coffee mixed with this, and sweetened with that sparkling beet-root sugar which ornaments a French table, is the celebrated _cafe-au-lait_, the name of which has gone round the world. As we look to France for the best coffee, so we must look to England for the perfection of tea. The tea-kettle is as much an English institution as aristocracy or the Prayer-Book; and when one wants to know exactly how tea should he made, one has only to ask how a fine old English house-keeper makes it. The first article of her faith is, that the water must not merely be hot, not merely _have boiled_ a few moments since, but be actually _boiling_ at the moment it touches the tea. Hence, though servants in England are vastly better trained than with us, this delicate mystery is seldom left to their hands. Tea-making belongs to the drawing-room, and high-born ladies preside at "the bubbling and loud hissing urn," and see that all due rites and solemnities are properly performed--that the cups are hot, and that the infused tea waits the exact time before the libations commence. Of late, the introduction of English breakfast-tea has raised a new sect among the tea-drinkers, reversing some of the old canons. Breakfast-tea must be boiled! Unlike the delicate article of olden time, which required only a momentary infusion to develop its richness, this requires a longer and severer treatment to bring out its strength--thus confusing all the established usages, and throwing the work into the hands of the cook in the kitchen. The faults of tea, as too commonly found at our hotels and boarding-houses, are, that it is made in every way the reverse of what it should be. The water is hot, perhaps, but not boiling; the tea has a general flat, stale, smoky taste, devoid of life or spirit; and it is served usually with thin milk, instead of cream. Cream is an essential to the richness of tea as of coffee. Lacking cream, boiled milk is better than cold. Chocolate is a French and Spanish article, and one seldom served on American tables. We in America, however, make an article every way equal to any which can be imported from Paris, and he who buys the best vanilla-chocolate may rest assured that no foreign land can furnish any thing better. A very rich and delicious beverage may be made by dissolving this in milk, slowly boiled down after the French fashion. A word now under the head of _Confectionery_, meaning by this the whole range of ornamental cookery--or pastry, ices, jellies, preserves, etc. The art of making all these very perfectly is far better understood in America than the art of common cooking. There are more women who know how to make good cake than good bread--more who can furnish you with a good ice-cream than a well-cooked mutton-chop; a fair charlotte-russe is easier to gain than a perfect cup of coffee; and you shall find a sparkling jelly to your dessert where you sighed in vain for so simple a luxury as a well-cooked potato. Our fair countrywomen might rest upon their laurels in these higher fields, and turn their great energy and ingenuity to the study of essentials. To do common things perfectly is far better worth our endeavor than to do uncommon things respectably. We Americans in many things as yet have been a little inclined to begin making our shirt at the ruffle; but, nevertheless, when we set about it, we can make the shirt as nicely as any body; it needs only that we turn our attention to it, resolved that, ruffle or no ruffle, the shirt we will have. A few words as to the prevalent ideas in respect to French cookery. Having heard much of it, with no very distinct idea of what it is, our people have somehow fallen into the notion that its _forte_ lies in high spicing--and so when our cooks put a great abundance of clove, mace, nutmeg, and cinnamon into their preparations, they fancy that they are growing up to be French cooks. But the fact is, that the Americans and English are far more given to spicing than the French. Spices in our made dishes are abundant, and their taste is strongly pronounced. Living a year in France one forgets the taste of nutmeg, clove, and allspice, which abounds in so many dishes in America. The English and Americans deal in _spices_, the French in _flavors_--flavors many and flue, imitating often in their delicacy those subtle blendings which nature produces in high-flavored fruits. The recipes of our cookery-books are most of them of English origin, coming down from the times of our phlegmatic ancestors, when the solid, burly, beefy growth of the foggy island required the heat of fiery condiments, and could digest heavy sweets. Witness the national recipe for plum-pudding: which may be rendered: Take a pound of every indigestible substance you can think of, boil into a cannon-ball, and serve in flaming brandy. So of the Christmas mince-pie, and many other national dishes. But in America, owing to our brighter skies and more fervid climate, we have developed an acute, nervous delicacy of temperament far more akin to that of France than of England. Half of the recipes in our cook-books are mere murder to such constitutions and stomachs as we grow here. We require to ponder these things, and think how we, in our climate and under our circumstances, ought to live; and in doing so, we may, without accusation of foreign foppery, take some leaves from many foreign books. XIV. EARLY RISING There is no practice which has been more extensively eulogized in all ages than early rising; and this universal impression is an indication that it is founded on true philosophy. For it is rarely the case that the common sense of mankind fastens on a practice as really beneficial, especially one that demands self-denial, without some substantial reason. This practice, which may justly be called a domestic virtue, is one which has a peculiar claim to be styled American and democratic. The distinctive mark of aristocratic nations is a disregard of the great mass, and a disproportionate regard for the interests of certain privileged orders. All the customs and habits of such a nation are, to a greater or less extent, regulated by this principle. Now the mass of any nation must always consist of persons who labor at occupations which demand the light of day. But in aristocratic countries, especially in England, labor is regarded as the mark of the lower classes, and indolence is considered as one mark of a gentleman. This impression has gradually and imperceptibly, to a great extent, regulated their customs, so that, even in their hours of meals and repose, the higher orders aim at being different and distinct from those who, by laborious pursuits, are placed below them. From this circumstance, while the lower orders labor by day and sleep at night, the rich, the noble, and the honored sleep by day, and follow their pursuits and pleasures by night. It will be found that the aristocracy of London breakfast near midday, dine after dark, visit and go to Parliament between ten and twelve at night, and retire to sleep toward morning. In consequence of this, the subordinate classes who aim at gentility gradually fall into the same practice. The influence of this custom extends across the ocean, and here, in this democratic land, we find many who measure their grade of gentility by the late hour at which they arrive at a party. And this aristocratic folly is growing upon us, so that, throughout the nation, the hours for visiting and retiring are constantly becoming later, while the hours for rising correspond in lateness. The question, then, is one which appeals to American women, as a matter of patriotism and as having a bearing on those great principles of democracy which we conceive to be equally the principles of Christianity. Shall we form our customs on the assumption that labor is degrading and indolence genteel? Shall we assume, by our practice, that the interests of the great mass are to be sacrificed for the pleasures and honors of a privileged few? Shall we ape the customs of aristocratic lands, in those very practices which result from principles and institutions that we condemn? Shall we not rather take the place to which we are entitled, as the leaders, rather than the followers, in the customs of society, turn back the tide of aristocratic inroads, and carry through the whole, not only of civil and political but of social and domestic life, the true principles of democratic freedom and equality? The following considerations may serve to strengthen an affirmative decision. The first relates to the health of a family. It is a universal law of physiology, that all living things flourish best in the light. Vegetables, in a dark cellar, grow pale and spindling. Children brought up in mines are always wan and stunted, while men become pale and cadaverous who live under ground. This indicates the folly of losing the genial influence which the light of day produces on all animated creation. Sir James Wylie, of the Russian imperial service, states that in the soldiers' barracks, three times as many were taken sick on the shaded side as on the sunny side; though both sides communicated, and discipline, diet, and treatment were the same. The eminent French surgeon, Dupuytren, cured a lady whose complicated diseases baffled for years his own and all other medical skill, by taking her from a dark room to an abundance of daylight. Florence Nightingale writes: "Second only to fresh air in importance for the sick is light. Not only daylight but direct sunlight is necessary to speedy recovery, except in a small number of cases. Instances, almost endless, could be given where, in dark wards, or wards with only northern exposure, or wards with borrowed light, even when properly ventilated, the sick could not be, by any means, made speedily to recover." In the prevalence of cholera, it was invariably the case that deaths were more numerous in shaded streets or in houses having only northern exposures than in those having sunlight. Several physicians have stated to the writer that, in sunny exposures, women after childbirth gained strength much faster than those excluded from sunlight. In the writer's experience, great nervous debility has been always immediately lessened by sitting in the sun, and still more by lying on the earth and in open air, a blanket beneath, and head and eyes protected, under the direct rays of the sun. Some facts in physiology and natural philosophy have a bearing on this subject. It seems to be settled that the red color of blood is owing to iron contained in the red blood-cells, while it is established as a fact that the sun's rays are metallic, having "vapor of iron" as one element. It is also true that want of light causes a diminution of the red and an increase of the imperfect white blood-cells, and that this sometimes results in a disease called _leucoemia_, while all who live in the dark have pale and waxy skins, and flabby, weak muscles. Thus it would seem that it is the sun that imparts the iron and color to the blood. These things being so, the customs of society that bring sleeping hours into daylight, and working and study hours into the night, are direct violations of the laws of health. The laws of health are the laws of God, and "sin is the transgression of law." To this we must add the great neglect of economy as well as health in substituting unhealthful gaslight, poisonous, anthracite warmth, for the life-giving light and warmth of the sun. Millions and millions would be saved to this nation in fuel and light, as well as in health, by returning to the good old ways of our forefathers, to rise with the sun, and retire to rest "when the bell rings for nine o'clock." The observations of medical men, whose inquiries have been directed to this point, have decided that from six to eight hours is the amount of sleep demanded by persons in health. Some constitutions require as much as eight, and others no more than six hours of repose. But eight hours is the maximum for all persons in ordinary health, with ordinary occupations. In cases of extra physical exertions, or the debility of disease, or a decayed constitution, more than this is required. Let eight hours, then, be regarded as the ordinary period required for sleep by an industrious people like the Americans. It thus appears that the laws of our political condition, the laws ofthe natural world, and the constitution of our bodies, alike demand that we rise with the light of day to prosecute our employments, and that we retire in time for the requisite amount of sleep. In regard to the effects of protracting the time spent in repose, many extensive and satisfactory investigations have been made. It has been shown that, during sleep, the body perspires most freely, while yet neither food nor exercise are ministering to its wants. Of course, if we continue our slumbers beyond the time required to restore the body to its usual vigor, there is an unperceived undermining of the constitution, by this protracted and debilitating exhalation. This process, in a course of years, readers the body delicate and less able to withstand disease, and in the result shortens life. Sir John Sinclair, who has written a large work on the Causes of Longevity, states, as one result of his extensive investigations, that he has never yet heard or read of a single case of great longevity where the individual was not an early riser. He says that he has found cases in which the individual has violated some one of all the other laws of health, and yet lived to great age; but never a single instance in which any constitution has withstood that undermining consequent on protracting the hours of repose beyond the demands of the system. Another reason for early rising is, that it is indispensable to a systematic and well-regulated family. At whatever hour the parents retire, children and domestics, wearied by play or labor, must retire early. Children usually awake with the dawn of light, and commence their play, while domestics usually prefer the freshness of morning for their labors. If, then, the parents rise at a late hour, they either induce a habit of protracting sleep in their children and domestics, or else the family are up, and at their pursuits, while their supervisors are in bed. Any woman who asserts that her children and domestics, in the first hours of day, when their spirits are freshest, will be as well regulated without her presence as with it, confesses that which surely is little for her credit. It is believed that any candid woman, whatever may be her excuse for late rising, will concede that if she could rise early it would be for the advantage of her family. A late breakfast puts back the work, through the whole day, for every member of a family; and if the parents thus occasion the loss of an hour or two to each individual who, but for their delay in the morning, would be usefully employed, they alone are responsible for all this waste of time. But the practice of early rising has a relation to the general interests of the social community, as well as to that of each distinct family. All that great portion of the community who are employed in business and labor find it needful to rise early; and all their hours of meals, and their appointments for business or pleasure, must be accommodated to these arrangements. Now, if a small portion of the community establish very different hours, it makes a kind of jostling in all the concerns and interests of society. The various appointments for the public, such as meetings, schools, and business hours, must be accommodated to the mass, and not to individuals. The few, then, who establish domestic habits at variance with the majority, are either constantly interrupted in their own arrangements, or else are interfering with the rights and interests of others. This is exemplified in the case of schools. In families where late rising is practiced, either hurry, irregularity, and neglect are engendered in the family, or else the interests of the school, and thus of the community, are sacrificed. In this, and many other matters, it can be shown that the well-being of the bulk of the people is, to a greater or less extent, impaired by this self-indulgent practice. Let any teacher select the unpunctual scholars--a class who most seriously interfere with the interests of the school--and let men of business select those who cause them most waste of time and vexation, by unpunctuality; and it will be found that they are generally among the late risers, and rarely among those who rise early. Thus, late rising not only injures the person and family which indulge in it, but interferes with the rights and convenience of the community; while early rising imparts corresponding benefits of health, promptitude, vigor of action, economy of time, and general effectiveness both to the individuals who practice it and to the families and community of which they are a part. CHAPTER XV. DOMESTIC MANNERS. Good manners are the expressions of benevolence in personal intercourse, by which we endeavor to promote the comfort and enjoyment of others, and to avoid all that gives needless uneasiness. It is the exterior exhibition of the divine precept, which requires us to do to others as we would that they should do to us. It is saying, by our deportment, to all around, that we consider their feelings, tastes, and conveniences, as equal in value to our own. Good manners lead us to avoid all practices which offend the taste of others; all unnecessary violations of the conventional rules of propriety; all rude and disrespectful language and deportment; and all remarks which would tend to wound the feelings of others. There is a serious defect in the manners of the American people, especially among the descendants of the Puritan settlers of New England, which can never be efficiently remedied, except in the domestic circle, and during early life. It is a deficiency in the free expression of kindly feelings and sympathetic emotions, and a want of courtesy in deportment. The causes which have led to this result may easily be traced. The forefathers of this nation, to a wide extent, were men who were driven from their native land by laws and customs which they believed to be opposed both to civil and religious freedom. The sufferings they were called to endure, the subduing of those gentler feelings which bind us to country, kindred, and home; and the constant subordination of the passions to stern principle, induced characters of great firmness and self-control. They gave up the comforts and refinements of a civilized country, and came as pilgrims to a hard soil, a cold clime, and a heathen shore. They were continually forced to encounter danger, privations, sickness, loneliness, and death; and all these their religion taught them to meet with calmness, fortitude, and submission. And thus it became the custom and habit of the whole mass, to repress rather than to encourage the expression of feeling. Persons who are called to constant and protracted suffering and privation are forced to subdue and conceal emotion; for the free expression of it would double their own suffering, and increase the sufferings of others. Those, only, who are free from care and anxiety, and whose minds are mainly occupied by cheerful emotions, are at full liberty to unveil their feelings. It was under such stern and rigorous discipline that the first children in New England were reared; and the manners and habits of parents are usually, to a great extent, transmitted to children. Thus it comes to pass, that the descendants of the Puritans, now scattered over every part of the nation, are predisposed to conceal the gentler emotions, while their manners are calm, decided, and cold, rather than free and impulsive. Of course, there are very many exceptions to these predominating characteristics. Other causes to which we may attribute a general want of courtesy in manners are certain incidental results of our domestic institutions. Our ancestors and their descendants have constantly been combating the aristocratic principle which would exalt one class of men at the expense of another. They have had to contend with this principle, not only in civil but in social life. Almost every American, in his own person as well as in behalf of his class, has had to assume and defend the main principle of democracy--that every man's feelings and interests are equal in value to those of every other man. But, in doing this, there has been some want of clear discrimination. Because claims based on distinctions of mere birth, fortune, or position, were found to be injurious, many have gone to the extreme of inferring that all distinctions, involving subordinations, are useless. Such would wrongfully regard children as equals to parents, pupils to teachers, domestics to their employers, and subjects to magistrates--and that, too, in all respects. The fact that certain grades of superiority and subordination are needful, both for individual and public benefit, has not been clearly discerned; and there has been a gradual tendency to an extreme of the opposite view which has sensibly affected our manners. All the proprieties and courtesies which depend on the recognition of the relative duties of superior and subordinate have been warred upon; and thus we see, to an increasing extent, disrespectful treatment of parents, by children; of teachers, by pupils; of employers, by domestics; and of the aged, by the young. In all classes and circles, there is a gradual decay in courtesy of address. In cases, too, where kindness is rendered, it is often accompanied with a cold, unsympathizing manner, which greatly lessens its value; while kindness or politeness is received in a similar style of coolness, as if it were but the payment of a just due. It is owing to these causes that the American people, especially the descendants of the Puritans, do not do themselves justice. For, while those who are near enough to learn their real character and feelings can discern the most generous impulses, and the most kindly sympathies, they are often so veiled behind a composed and indifferent demeanor, as to be almost entirely concealed from strangers. These defects in our national manners it especially falls to the care of mothers, and all who have charge of the young, to rectify; and if they seriously undertake the matter, and wisely adapt means to ends, these defects will be remedied. With reference to this object, the following ideas are suggested. The law of Christianity and of democracy, which teaches that all men are born equal in rights, and that their interests and feelings should be regarded as of equal value, seems to be adopted in aristocratic circles, with exclusive reference to the class in which the individual moves. The courtly gentleman addresses all of his own class with politeness and respect; and in all his actions, seems to allow that the feelings and convenience of these others are to be regarded the same as his own. But his demeanor to those of inferior station is not based on the same rule. Among those who make up aristocratic circles, such as are above them are deemed of superior, and such as are below of inferior, value. Thus, if a young, ignorant, and vicious coxcomb happens to have been born a lord, the aged, the virtuous, the learned, and the well-bred of another class must give his convenience the precedence, and must address him in terms of respect. So sometimes, when a man of "noble birth" is thrown among the lower classes, he demeans himself in a style which, to persons of his own class, would be deemed the height of assumption and rudeness. Now, the principles of democracy require that the same courtesy which we accord to our own circle shall be extended to every class and condition; and that distinctions of superiority and subordination shall depend, not on accidents of birth, fortune, or occupation, but solely on those mutual relations which the good of all classes equally require. The distinctions demanded in a democratic state are simply those which result from relations that are common to every class, and are for the benefit of all. It is for the benefit of every class that children be subordinate to parents, pupils to teachers, the employed to their employers, and subjects to magistrates. In addition to this, it is for the general well-being that the comfort or convenience of the delicate and feeble should be preferred to that of the strong and healthy, who would suffer less by any deprivation; that precedence should be given to their elders by the young; and that reverence should be given to the hoary head. The rules of good-breeding, in a democratic state, must be founded on these principles. It is indeed assumed that the value of the happiness of each individual is the same as that of every other; but as there must be occasions where there are advantages which all can not enjoy, there must be general rules for regulating a selection. Otherwise, there would be constant scrambling among those of equal claims, and brute force must be the final resort; in which case, the strongest would have the best of every thing. The democratic rule, then, is, that superiors in age, station, or office have precedence of subordinates; age and feebleness, of youth and strength; and the feebler sex, of more vigorous man. [Footnote: The universal practice of this nation, in thus giving precedence to woman has been severely commented on by foreigners, and by some who would transfer all the business of the other sex to women, and then have them treated like men. But we hope this evidence of our superior civilization and Christianity may increase rather than diminish.] There is, also, a style of deportment and address which is appropriate to these different relations. It is suitable for a superior to secure compliance with his wishes from those subordinate to him by commands; but a subordinate must secure compliance with his wishes from a superior by requests. (Although the kind and considerate manner to subordinates will always be found the most effective as well as the pleasantest, by those in superior station.) It is suitable for a parent, teacher, or employer to admonish for neglect of duty; but not for an inferior to adopt such a course toward a superior. It is suitable for a superior to take precedence of a subordinate, without any remark; but not for an inferior, without previously asking leave, or offering an apology. It is proper for a superior to use language and manners of freedom and familiarity, which would be improper from a subordinate to a superior. The want of due regard to these proprieties occasions a great defect in American manners. It is very common to hear children talk to their parents in a style proper only between companions and equals; so, also, the young address their elders; those employed, their employers; and domestics, the members of the family and their visitors, in a style which is inappropriate to their relative positions. But courteous address is required not merely toward superiors; every person desires to be thus treated, and therefore the law of benevolence demands such demeanor toward all whom we meet in the social intercourse of life. "Be ye courteous," is the direction of the apostle in reference to our treatment of _all_. Good manners can be successfully cultivated only in early life and in the domestic circle. There is nothing which depends so much upon _habit_ as the constantly recurring proprieties of good breeding; and if a child grows up without forming such habits, it is very rarely the case that they can be formed at a later period. The feeling that it is of little consequence how we behave at home if we conduct ourselves properly abroad, is a very fallacious one. Persons who are careless and ill-bred at home may imagine that they can assume good manners abroad; but they mistake. Fixed habits of tone, manner, language, and movements can not be suddenly altered; and those who are ill-bred at home, even when they try to hide their bad habits, are sure to violate many of the obvious rules of propriety, and yet be unconscious of it. And there is nothing which would so effectually remove prejudice against our democratic institutions as the general cultivation of good-breeding in the domestic circle. Good manners are the exterior of benevolence, the minute and constant exhibitions of "peace and good-will;" and the nation, as well as the individual, which most excels in the external demonstration, as well as the internal principle, will be most respected and beloved. It is only the training of the family state according to its true end and aim that is to secure to woman her true position and rights. When the family is instituted by marriage, it is man who is the head and chief magistrate by the force of his physical power and requirement of the chief responsibility; not less is he so according to the Christian law, by which, when differences arise, the husband has the deciding control, and the wife is to obey. "Where love is, there is no law;" but where love is not, the only dignified and peaceful course is for the wife, however much his superior, to "submit, as to God and not to man." But this power of nature and of religion, given to man as the controlling head, involves the distinctive duty of the family state, _self-sacrificing love_. The husband is to "honor" the wife, to love her as himself, and thus account her wishes and happiness as of equal value with his own. But more than this, he is to love her "as Christ loved the Church;" that is, he is to "suffer" for her, if need be, in order to support and elevate and ennoble her. The father then is to set the example of self-sacrificing love and devotion; and the mother, of Christian obedience when it is required. Every boy is to be trained for his future domestic position by labor and sacrifices for his mother and sisters. It is the brother who is to do the hardest and most disagreeable work, to face the storms and perform the most laborious drudgeries. In the family circle, too, he is to give his mother and sister precedence in all the conveniences and comforts of home life. It is only those nations where the teachings and example of Christ have had most influence that man has ever assumed his obligations of self-sacrificing benevolence in the family. And even in Christian communities, the duty of wives to obey their husbands has been more strenuously urged than the obligations of the husband to love his wife "as Christ loved the Church." Here it is needful to notice that the distinctive duty of obedience to man does not rest on women who do not enter the relations of married life. A woman who inherits property, or who earns her own livelihood, can institute the family state, adopt orphan children and employ suitable helpers in training them; and then to her will appertain the authority and rights that belong to man as the head of a family. And when every woman is trained to some self-supporting business, she will not be tempted to enter the family state as a subordinate, except by that love for which there is no need of law. These general principles being stated, some details in regard to domestic manners will be enumerated. In the first place, there should be required in the family a strict attention to the rules of precedence, and those modes of address appropriate to the various relations to be sustained. Children should always be required to offer their superiors, in age or station, the precedence in all comforts and conveniences, and always address them in a respectful tone and manner. The custom of adding, "Sir," or "Ma'am," to "Yes," or "No," is valuable, as a perpetual indication of a respectful recognition of superiority. It is now going out of fashion, even among the most well bred people; probably from a want of consideration of its importance. Every remnant of courtesy of address, in our customs, should be carefully cherished, by all who feel a value for the proprieties of good breeding. If parents allow their children to talk to them, and to the grown persons in the family, in the same style in which they address each other, it will be in vain to hope for the courtesy of manner and tone which good breeding demands in the general intercourse of society. In a large family, where the elder children are grown up, and the younger are small, it is important to require the latter to treat the elder in some sense as superiors. There are none so ready as young children to assume airs of equality; and if they are allowed to treat one class of superiors in age and character disrespectfully, they will soon use the privilege universally. This is the reason, why the youngest children of a family are most apt to be pert, forward, and unmannerly. Another point to be aimed at is, to require children always to acknowledge every act of kindness and attention, either by words or manner. If they are so trained as always to make grateful acknowledgments, when receiving favors, one of the objectionable features in American manners will be avoided. Again, children should be required to ask leave, whenever they wish to gratify curiosity, or use an article which belongs to another. And if cases occur, when they can not comply with the rules of good-breeding, as, for instance, when they must step between a person and the fire, or take the chair of an older person, they should be taught either to ask leave, or to offer an apology. There is another point of good-breeding, which can not, in all cases, be understood and applied by children in its widest extent. It is that which requires us to avoid all remarks which tend to embarrass, vex, mortify, or in any way wound the feelings of another. To notice personal defects; to allude to others' faults, or the faults of their friends; to speak disparagingly of the sect or party to which a person belongs; to be inattentive when addressed in conversation; to contradict flatly; to speak in contemptuous tones of opinions expressed by another; all these are violations of the rules of good-breeding, which children should be taught to regard. Under this head comes the practice of whispering and staring about, when a teacher, or lecturer, or clergyman is addressing a class or audience. Such inattention is practically saying that what the person is uttering is not worth attending to; and persons of real good-breeding always avoid it. Loud talking and laughing in a large assembly, even when no exercises are going on; yawning and gaping in company; and not looking in the face a person who is addressing you, are deemed marks of ill-breeding. Another branch of good manners relates to the duties of hospitality. Politeness requires us to welcome visitors with cordiality; to offer them the best accommodations; to address conversation to them; and to express, by tone and manner, kindness and respect. Offering the hand to all visitors at one's own house is a courteous and hospitable custom; and a cordial shake of the hand, when friends meet, would abate much of the coldness of manner ascribed to Americans. Another point of good breeding refers to the conventional rules of propriety and good taste. Of these, the first class relates to the avoidance of all disgusting or offensive personal habits: such as fingering the hair; obtrusively using a toothpick, or carrying one in the mouth after the needful use of it; cleaning the nails in presence of others; picking the nose; spitting on carpets; snuffing instead of using a handkerchief, or using the article in an offensive manner; lifting up the boots or shoes, as some men do, to tend them on the knee, or to finger them: all these tricks, either at home or in society, children should be taught to avoid. Another topic, under this head, may be called _table manners_. To persons of good-breeding, nothing is more annoying than violations of the conventional proprieties of the table. Reaching over another person's plate; standing up, to reach distant articles, instead of asking to have them passed; using one's own knife and spoon for butter, salt, or sugar, when it is the custom of the family to provide separate utensils for the purpose; setting cups with the tea dripping from them, on the table-cloth, instead of the mats or small plates furnished; using the table-cloth instead of the napkins; eating fast, and in a noisy manner; putting large pieces in the mouth; looking and eating as if very hungry, or as if anxious to get at certain dishes; sitting at too great a distance from the table, and dropping food; laying the knife and fork on the table-cloth, instead of on the edge of the plate; picking the teeth at table: all these particulars children should be taught to avoid. It is always desirable, too, to train children, when at table with grown persons, to be silent, except when addressed by others; or else their chattering will interrupt the conversation and comfort of their elders. They should always be required, too, to wait in silence, till all the older persons are helped. When children are alone with their parents, it is desirable to lead them to converse and to take this as an opportunity to form proper conversational habits. But it should be a fixed rule that, when strangers are present, the children are to listen in silence and only reply when addressed. Unless this is secured, visitors will often be condemned to listen to puerile chattering, with small chance of the proper attention due to guests and superiors in age and station. Children should be trained, in preparing themselves for the table or for appearance among the family, not only to put their hair, face, and hands in neat order, but also their nails, and to habitually attend to this latter whenever they wash their hands. There are some very disagreeable tricks which many children practice even in families counted well-bred. Such, for example, are drumming with the fingers on some piece of furniture, or humming a tune while others are talking, or interrupting conversation by pertinacious questions, or whistling in the house instead of out-doors, or speaking several at once and in loud voices to gain attention. All these are violations of good-breeding, which children should be trained to avoid, lest they should not only annoy as children, but practice the same kind of ill manners when mature. In all assemblies for public debate, a chairman or moderator is appointed whose business it is to see that only one person speaks at a time, that no one interrupts a person when speaking, that no needless noises are made, and that all indecorums are avoided. Such an officer is sometimes greatly needed in family circles. Children should be encouraged freely to use lungs and limbs out-doors, or in hours for sport in the house. But at other times, in the domestic circle, gentle tones and manners should be cultivated. The words _gentleman_ and _gentlewoman_ came originally from the fact that the uncultivated and ignorant classes used coarse and loud tones, and rough words and movements; while only the refined circles habitually used gentle tones and gentle manners. For the same reason, those born in the higher circles were called "of gentle blood." Thus it came that a coarse and loud voice, and rough, ungentle manners, are regarded as vulgar and plebeian. All these things should be taught to children, gradually, and with great patience and gentleness. Some parents, with whom good manners are a great object, are in danger of making their children perpetually uncomfortable, by suddenly surrounding them with so many rules that they must inevitably violate some one or other a great part of the time. It is much better to begin with a few rules, and be steady and persevering with these, till a habit is formed, and then take a few more, thus making the process easy and gradual. Otherwise, the temper of children will be injured; or, hopeless of fulfilling so many requisitions, they will become reckless and indifferent to all. If a few brief, well-considered, and sensible rules of good manners could be suspended in every school-room, and the children all required to commit them to memory, it probably would do more to remedy the defects of American manners and to advance universal good-breeding than any other mode that could be so easily adopted. But, in reference to those who have enjoyed advantages for the cultivation of good manners, and who duly estimate its importance, one caution is necessary. Those who never have had such habits formed in youth are under disadvantages which no benevolence of temper can altogether remedy. They may often violate the tastes and feelings of others, not from a want of proper regard for them, but from ignorance of custom, or want of habit, or abstraction of mind, or from other causes which demand forbearance and sympathy, rather than displeasure. An ability to bear patiently with defects in manners, and to make candid and considerate allowance for a want of advantages, or for peculiarities in mental habits, is one mark of the benevolence of real good-breeding. The advocates of monarchical and aristocratic institutions have always had great plausibility given to their views, by the seeming tendencies of our institutions to insubordination and bad manners. And it has been too indiscriminately conceded, by the defenders of the latter, that such are these tendencies, and that the offensive points in American manners are the necessary result of democratic principles. But it is believed that both facts and reasoning are in opposition to this opinion. The following extract from the work of De Tocqueville, the great political philosopher of France, exhibits the opinion of an impartial observer, when comparing American manners with those of the English, who are confessedly the most aristocratic of all people. He previously remarks on the tendency of aristocracy to make men more sympathizing with persons of their own peculiar class, and less so toward those of lower degree; and he then contrasts American manners with the English, claiming that the Americans are much the more affable, mild, and social. "In America, where the privileges of birth never existed and where riches confer no peculiar rights on their possessors, men acquainted with each other are very ready to frequent the same places, and find neither peril nor disadvantage in the free interchange of their thoughts. If they meet by accident, they neither seek nor avoid intercourse; their manner is therefore natural, frank, and open." "If their demeanor is often cold and serious, it is never haughty or constrained." But an "aristocratic pride is still extremely great among the English; and as the limits of aristocracy are still ill-defined, every body lives in constant dread, lest advantage should be taken of his familiarity. Unable to judge, at once, of the social position of those he meets, an Englishman prudently avoids all contact with him. Men are afraid, lest some slight service rendered should draw them into an unsuitable acquaintance; they dread civilities, and they avoid the obtrusive gratitude of a stranger, as much as his hatred." Thus, _facts_ seem to show that when the most aristocratic nation in the world is compared, as to manners, with the most democratic, the judgment of strangers is in favor of the latter. And if good manners are the outward exhibition of the democratic principle of impartial benevolence and equal rights, surely the nation which adopts this rule, both in social and civil life, is the most likely to secure the desirable exterior. The aristocrat, by his principles, extends the exterior of impartial benevolence to his own class only; the democratic principle requires it to be extended _to all_. There is reason, therefore, to hope and expect more refined and polished manners in America than in any other land; while all the developments of taste and refinement, such as poetry, music, painting, sculpture, and architecture, it may be expected, will come to as high a state of perfection here as in any other nation. If this country increases in virtue and intelligence, as it may, there is no end to the wealth which will pour in as the result of our resources of climate, soil, and navigation, and the skill, industry, energy, and enterprise of our countrymen. This wealth, if used as intelligence and virtue dictate, will furnish the means for a superior education to all classes, and every facility for the refinement of taste, intellect, and feeling. Moreover, in this country, labor is ceasing to be the badge of a lower class; so that already it is disreputable for a man to be "a lazy gentleman." And this feeling must increase, till there is such an equalization of labor as will afford all the time needful for every class to improve the many advantages offered to them. Already through the munificence of some of our citizens, there are literary and scientific advantages offered to all classes, rarely enjoyed elsewhere. In most of our large cities and towns, the advantages of education, now offered to the poorest classes, often without charge, surpass what, some years ago, most wealthy men could purchase for any price. And it is believed that a time will come when the poorest boy in America can secure advantages, which will equal what the heir of the proudest peerage can now command. The records of the courts of France and Germany, (as detailed by the Duchess of Orleans,) in and succeeding the brilliant reign of Louis the Fourteenth--a period which was deemed the acme of elegance and refinement--exhibit a grossness, a vulgarity, and a coarseness, not to be found among the very lowest of our respectable poor. And the biography of the English Beau Nash, who attempted to reform the manners of the gentry, in the times of Queen Anne, exhibits violations of the rules of decency among the aristocracy, which the commonest yeoman of this land would feel disgraced in perpetrating. This shows that our lowest classes, at this period, are more refined than were the highest in aristocratic lands, a hundred years ago; and another century may show the lowest classes, in wealth, in this country, attaining as high a polish as adorns those who now are leaders of good manners in the courts of kings. CHAPTER XVI. THE PRESERVATION OF GOOD TEMPER IN THE HOUSEKEEPER. There is nothing which has a more abiding influence on the happiness of a family than the preservation of equable and cheerful temper and tones in the housekeeper. A woman who is habitually gentle, sympathizing, forbearing, and cheerful, carries an atmosphere about her which imparts a soothing and sustaining influence, and renders it easier for all to do right, under her administration, than in any other situation. The writer has known families where the mother's presence seemed the sunshine of the circle around her; imparting a cheering and vivifying power, scarcely realized till it was withdrawn. Every one, without thinking of it, or knowing why it was so, experienced a peaceful and invigorating influence as soon as he entered the sphere illumined by her smile, and sustained by her cheering kindness and sympathy. On the contrary, many a good housekeeper, (good in every respect but this,) by wearing a countenance of anxiety and dissatisfaction, and by indulging in the frequent use of sharp and reprehensive tones, more than destroys all the comfort which otherwise would result from her system, neatness, and economy. There is a secret, social sympathy which every mind, to a greater or less degree, experiences with the feelings of those around, as they are manifested by the countenance and voice. A sorrowful, a discontented, or an angry countenance produces a silent, sympathetic influence, imparting a sombre shade to the mind, while tones of anger or complaint still more effectually jar the spirits. No person can maintain a quiet and cheerful frame of mind while tones of discontent and displeasure are sounding on the ear. We may gradually accustom ourselves to the evil till it is partially diminished; but it always is an evil which greatly interferes with the enjoyment of the family state. There are sometimes cases where the entrance of the mistress of a family seems to awaken a slight apprehension in every mind around, as if each felt in danger of a reproof, for something either perpetrated or neglected. A woman who should go around her house with a small stinging snapper, which she habitually applied to those whom she met, would be encountered with feelings very much like those which are experienced by the inmates of a family where the mistress often uses her countenance and voice to inflict similar penalties for duties neglected. Yet there are many allowances to be made for housekeepers, who sometimes imperceptibly and unconsciously fall into such habits. A woman who attempts to carry out any plans of system, order, and economy, and who has her feelings and habits conformed to certain rules, is constantly liable to have her plans crossed, and her taste violated, by the inexperience or inattention of those about her. And no housekeeper, whatever may be her habits, can escape the frequent recurrence of negligence or mistake, which interferes with her plans. It is probable that there is no class of persons in the world who have such incessant trials of temper, and temptations to be fretful, as American housekeepers. For a housekeeper's business is not, like that of the other sex, limited to a particular department, for which previous preparation is made. It consists of ten thousand little disconnected items, which can never be so systematically arranged that there is no daily jostling somewhere. And in the best-regulated families, it is not unfrequently the case that some act of forgetfulness or carelessness, from some member, will disarrange the business of the whole day, so that every hour will bring renewed occasion for annoyance. And the more strongly a woman realizes the value of time, and the importance of system and order, the more will she be tempted to irritability and complaint. The following considerations may aid in preparing a woman to meet such daily crosses with even a cheerful temper and tones. In the first place, a woman who has charge of a large household should regard her duties as dignified, important, and difficult. The mind is so made as to be elevated and cheered by a sense of far-reaching influence and usefulness. A woman who feels that she is a cipher, and that it makes little difference how she performs her duties, has far less to sustain and invigorate her, than one who truly estimates the importance of her station. A man who feels that the destinies of a nation are turning on the judgment and skill with which he plans and executes, has a pressure of motive and an elevation of feeling which are great safeguards against all that is low, trivial, and degrading. So, an American mother and housekeeper who rightly estimates the long train of influence which will pass down to thousands, whose destinies, from generation to generation, will be modified by those decisions of her will which regulate the temper, principles, and habits of her family, must be elevated above petty temptations which would otherwise assail her. Again, a housekeeper should feel that she really has great difficulties to meet and overcome. A person who wrongly thinks there is little danger, can never maintain so faithful a guard as one who rightly estimates the temptations which beset her. Nor can one who thinks that they are trifling difficulties which she has to encounter, and trivial temptations to which she must yield, so much enjoy the just reward of conscious virtue and self-control as one who takes an opposite view of the subject. A third method is, for a woman deliberately to calculate on having her best-arranged plans interfered with very often; and to be in such a state of preparation that the evil will not come unawares. So complicated are the pursuits and so diverse the habits of the various members of a family, that it is almost impossible for every one to avoid interfering with the plans and taste of a housekeeper, in some one point or another. It is, therefore, most wise for a woman to keep the loins of her mind ever girt, to meet such collisions with a cheerful and quiet spirit. Another important rule is, to form all plans and arrangements in consistency with the means at command, and the character of those around. A woman who has a heedless husband, and young children, and incompetent domestics, ought not to make such plans as one may properly form who will not, in so many directions, meet embarrassment. She must aim at just as much as she can probably attain, and no more; and thus she will usually escape much temptation, and much of the irritation of disappointment. The fifth, and a very important consideration, is, that system, economy, and neatness are valuable, only so far as they tend to promote the comfort and well-being of those affected. Some women seem to act under the impression that these advantages _must_ be secured, at all events, even if the comfort of the family be the sacrifice. True, it is very important that children grow up in habits of system, neatness, and order; and it is very desirable that the mother give them every incentive, both by precept and example; but it is still more important that they grow up with amiable tempers, that they learn to meet the crosses of life with patience and cheerfulness; and nothing has a greater influence to secure this than a mother's example. Whenever, therefore, a woman can not accomplish her plans of neatness and order without injury to her own temper or to the temper of others, she ought to modify and reduce them until she can. The sixth method relates to the government of the tones of voice. In many cases, when a woman's domestic arrangements are suddenly and seriously crossed, it is impossible not to feel some irritation. But it _is_ always possible to refrain from angry tones. A woman can resolve that, whatever happens, she will not speak till she can do it in a calm and gentle manner. _Perfect silence_ is a safe resort, when such control can not be attained as enables a person to speak calmly; and this determination, persevered in, will eventually be crowned with success. Many persons seem to imagine that tones of anger are needful, in order to secure prompt obedience. But observation has convinced the writer that they are _never_ necessary; that _in all cases_, reproof, administered in calm tones, would be better. A case will be given in illustration. A young girl had been repeatedly charged to avoid a certain arrangement in cooking. On one day, when company was invited to dine, the direction was forgotten, and the consequence was an accident, which disarranged every thing, seriously injured the principal dish, and delayed dinner for an hour. The mistress of the family entered the kitchen just as it occurred, and at a glance, saw the extent of the mischief. For a moment, her eyes flashed, and her cheeks glowed; but she held her peace. After a minute or so, she gave directions in a calm voice, as to the best mode of retrieving the evil, and then left, without a word said to the offender. After the company left, she sent for the girl, alone, and in a calm and kind manner pointed out the aggravations of the case, and described the trouble which had been caused to her husband, her visitors, and herself. She then portrayed the future evils which would result from such habits of neglect and inattention, and the modes of attempting to overcome them; and then offered a reward for the future, if, in a given time, she succeeded in improving in this respect. Not a tone of anger was uttered; and yet the severest scolding of a practiced Xantippe could not have secured such contrition, and determination to reform, as were gained by this method. But similar negligence is often visited by a continuous stream of complaint and reproof, which, in most cases, is met either by sullen silence or impertinent retort, while anger prevents any contrition or any resolution of future amendment. It is very certain, that some ladies do carry forward a most efficient government, both of children and domestics, without employing tones of anger; and therefore they are not indispensable, nor on any account desirable. Though some ladies of intelligence and refinement do fall unconsciously into such a practice, it is certainly very unlady-like, and in very bad taste, to _scold_; and the further a woman departs from all approach to it, the more perfectly she sustains her character as a lady. Another method of securing equanimity, amid the trials of domestic life is, to cultivate a habit of making allowances for the difficulties, ignorance, or temptations of those who violate rule or neglect duty. It is vain, and most unreasonable, to expect the consideration and care of a mature mind in childhood and youth; or that persons of such limited advantages as most domestics have enjoyed should practice proper self-control and possess proper habits and principles. Every parent and every employer needs daily to cultivate the spirit expressed in the divine prayer, "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." The same allowances and forbearance which we supplicate from our Heavenly Father, and desire from our fellow-men in reference to our own deficiencies, we should constantly aim to extend to all who cross our feelings and interfere with our plans. The last and most important mode of securing a placid and cheerful temper and tones is, by a constant belief in the influence of a superintending Providence. All persons are too much in the habit of regarding the more important events of life exclusively as under the control of Perfect Wisdom. But the fall of a sparrow, or the loss of a hair, they do not feel to be equally the result of his directing agency. In consequence of this, Christian persons who aim at perfect and cheerful submission to heavy afflictions, and who succeed to the edification of all about them, are sometimes sadly deficient under petty crosses. If a beloved child be laid in the grave, even if its death resulted from the carelessness of a domestic or of a physician, the eye is turned from the subordinate agent to the Supreme Guardian of all; and to him they bow, without murmur or complaint. But if a pudding be burnt, or a room badly swept, or an errand forgotten, then vexation and complaint are allowed, just as if these events were not appointed by Perfect Wisdom as much as the sorer chastisement. A woman, therefore, needs to cultivate the _habitual_ feeling that all the events of her nursery and kitchen are brought about by the permission of our Heavenly Father, and that fretfulness or complaint in regard to these is, in fact, complaining at the appointments of God, and is really as sinful as unsubmissive murmurs amid the sorer chastisements of his hand. And a woman who cultivates this habit of referring all the minor trials of life to the wise and benevolent agency of a heavenly Parent, and daily seeks his sympathy and aid to enable her to meet them with a quiet and cheerful spirit, will soon find it the perennial spring of abiding peace and content. The power of religion to impart dignity and importance to the ordinary and seemingly petty details of domestic life, greatly depends upon the degree of faith in the reality of a life to come, and of its eternal results. A woman who is training a family simply with reference to this life may find exalted motives as she looks forward to unborn generations whose temporal prosperity and happiness are depending upon her fidelity and skill. But one who truly and firmly believes that this life is but the beginning of an eternal career to every immortal inmate of her home, and that the formation of tastes, habits, and character, under her care, will bring forth fruits of good or ill, not only through earthly generations, but through everlasting ages; such a woman secures a calm and exalted principle of action, which no earthly motives can impart. CHAPTER XVII. HABITS OF SYSTEM AND ORDER. Any discussion of the equality of the sexes, as to intellectual capacity, seems frivolous and useless, both because it can never be decided, and because there would be no possible advantage in the decision. But one topic, which is often drawn into this discussion, is of far more consequence; and that is, the relative importance and difficulty of the duties a woman is called to perform. It is generally assumed, and almost as generally conceded, that a housekeeper's business and cares are contracted and trivial; and that the proper discharge of her duties demands far less expansion of mind and vigor of intellect than the pursuits of the other sex. This idea has prevailed because women, as a mass, have never been educated with reference to their most important duties; while that portion of their employments which is of least value has been regarded as the chief, if not the sole, concern of a woman. The covering of the body, the convenience of residences, and the gratification of the appetite, have been too much regarded as the chief objects on which her intellectual powers are to be exercised. But as society gradually shakes off the remnants of barbarism and the intellectual and moral interests of man rise, in estimation, above the merely sensual, a truer estimate is formed of woman's duties, and of the measure of intellect requisite for the proper discharge of them. Let any man of sense and discernment become the member of a large household, in which a well-educated and pious woman is endeavoring systematically to discharge her multiform duties; let him fully comprehend all her cares, difficulties, and perplexities; and it is probable he would coincide in the opinion that no statesman, at the head of a nation's affairs, had more frequent calls for wisdom, firmness, tact, discrimination, prudence, and versatility of talent, than such a woman. She has a husband, to whose peculiar tastes and habits she must accommodate herself; she has children whose health she must guard, whose physical constitutions she must study and develop, whose temper and habits she must regulate, whose principles she must form, whose pursuits she must guide. She has constantly changing domestics, with all varieties of temper and habits, whom she must govern, instruct, and direct; she is required to regulate the finances of the domestic state, and constantly to adapt expenditures to the means and to the relative claims of each department. She has the direction of the kitchen, where ignorance, forgetfulness, and awkwardness are to be so regulated that the various operations shall each start at the right time, and all be in completeness at the same given hour. She has the claims of society to meet, visits to receive and return, and the duties of hospitality to sustain. She has the poor to relieve; benevolent societies to aid; the schools of her children to inquire and decide about; the care of the sick and the aged; the nursing of infancy; and the endless miscellany of odd items, constantly recurring in a large family. Surely, it is a pernicious and mistaken idea, that the duties which tax a woman's mind are petty, trivial, or unworthy of the highest grade of intellect and moral worth. Instead of allowing this feeling, every woman should imbibe, from early youth, the impression that she is in training for the discharge of the most important, the most difficult, and the most sacred and interesting duties that can possibly employ the highest intellect. She ought to feel that her station and responsibilities in the great drama of life are second to none, either as viewed by her Maker, or in the estimation of all minds whose judgment is most worthy of respect. She who is the mother and housekeeper in a large family is the sovereign of an empire, demanding more varied cares, and involving more difficult duties, than are really exacted of her who wears a crown and professedly regulates the interests of the greatest nation on earth. There is no one thing more necessary to a housekeeper in performing her varied duties, than _a habit of system and order_; and yet, the peculiarly desultory nature of women's pursuits, and the embarrassments resulting from the state of domestic service in this country, render it very difficult to form such a habit. But it is sometimes the case that women who could and would carry forward a systematic plan of domestic economy do not attempt it, simply from a want of knowledge of the various modes of introducing it. It is with reference to such, that various modes of securing system and order, which the writer has seen adopted, will be pointed out. A wise economy is nowhere more conspicuous, than in a systematic _apportionment of time_ to different pursuits. There are duties of a religious, intellectual, social, and domestic nature, each having different relative claims on attention. Unless a person has some general plan of apportioning these claims, some will intrench on others, and some, it is probable, will be entirely excluded. Thus, some find religious, social, and domestic duties so numerous, that no time is given to intellectual improvement. Others find either social, or benevolent, or religious interests excluded by the extent and variety of other engagements. It is wise, therefore, for all persons to devise a systematic plan, which they will at least keep in view, and aim to accomplish; and by which a proper proportion of time shall be secured for all the duties of life. In forming such a plan, every woman must accommodate herself to the peculiarities of her situation. If she has a large family and a small income, she must devote far more time to the simple duty of providing food and raiment than would be right were she in affluence, and with a small family. It is impossible, therefore, to draw out any general plan, which all can adopt. But there are some _general principles,_ which ought to be the guiding rules, when a woman arranges her domestic employments. These principles are to be based on Christianity, which teaches us to "seek first the kingdom of God," and to deem food, raiment, and the conveniences of life, as of secondary account. Every woman, then, ought to start with the assumption, that the moral and religious interests of her family are of more consequence than any worldly concern, and that, whatever else may be sacrificed, these shall be the leading object, in all her arrangements, in respect to time, money, and attention. It is also one of the plainest requisitions of Christianity, that we devote some of our time and efforts to the comfort and improvement of others. There is no duty so constantly enforced, both in the Old and New Testament, as that of charity, in dispensing to those who are destitute of the blessings we enjoy. In selecting objects of charity, the same rule applies to others as to ourselves; their moral and religions interests are of the highest moment, and for them, as well as for ourselves, we are to "seek first the kingdom of God." Another general principle is, that our intellectual and social interests are to be preferred to the mere gratification of taste or appetite. A portion of time, therefore, must be devoted to the cultivation of the intellect and the social affections. Another is, that the mere gratification of appetite is to be placed last in our estimate; so that, when a question arises as to which shall be sacrificed, some intellectual, moral, or social advantage, or some gratification of sense, we should invariably sacrifice the last. As health is indispensable to the discharge of every duty, nothing which sacrifices that blessing is to be allowed in order to gain any other advantage or enjoyment. There are emergencies, when it is right to risk health and life, to save ourselves and others from greater evils; but these are exceptions, which do not militate against the general rule. Many persons imagine that, if they violate the laws of health, in order to attend to religious or domestic duties, they are guiltless before God. But such greatly mistake. We directly violate the law, "Thou shalt not kill," when we do what tends to risk or shorten our own life. The life and happiness of all his creatures are dear to our Creator; and he is as much displeased when we injure our own interests, as when we injure those of others. The idea, therefore, that we are excusable if we harm no one but ourselves, is false and pernicious. These, then, are some general principles, to guide a woman in systematizing her duties and pursuits. The Creator of all things is a Being of perfect system and order; and, to aid us in our duty in this respect, he has divided our time, by a regularly returning day of rest from worldly business. In following this example, the intervening six days maybe subdivided to secure similar benefits. In doing this, a certain portion of time must be given to procure the means of livelihood, and for preparing food, raiment, and dwellings. To these objects, some must devote more, and others less, attention. The remainder of time not necessarily thus employed, might be divided somewhat in this manner: The leisure of two afternoons and evenings could be devoted to religious and benevolent objects, such as religious meetings, charitable associations, school visiting, and attention to the sick and poor. The leisure of two other days might be devoted to intellectual improvement, and the pursuits of taste. The leisure of another day might be devoted to social enjoyments, in making or receiving visits; and that of another, to miscellaneous domestic pursuits, not included in the other particulars. It is probable that few persons could carry out such an arrangement very strictly; but every one can make a systematic apportionment of time, and at least _aim_ at accomplishing it; and they can also compare with such a general outline, the time which they actually devote to these different objects, for the purpose of modifying any mistaken proportions. Without attempting any such systematic employment of time, and carrying it out, so far as they can control circumstances, most women are rather driven along by the daily occurrences of life; so that, instead of being the intelligent regulators of their own time, they are the mere sport of circumstances. There is nothing which so distinctly marks the difference between weak and strong minds as the question, whether they control circumstances or circumstances control them. It is very much to be feared, that the apportionment of time actually made by most women exactly inverts the order required by reason and Christianity. Thus, the furnishing a needless variety of food, the conveniences of dwellings, and the adornments of dress, often take a larger portion of time than is given to any other object. Next after this, comes intellectual improvement; and, last of all, benevolence and religion. It may be urged, that it is indispensable for most persons to give more time to earn a livelihood, and to prepare food, raiment, and dwellings, than, to any other object. But it may be asked, how much of the time, devoted to these objects, is employed in preparing varieties of food not necessary, but rather injurious, and how much is spent for those parts of dress and furniture not indispensable, and merely ornamental? Let a woman subtract from her domestic employments all the time given to pursuits which are of no use, except as they gratify a taste for ornament, or minister increased varieties to tempt the appetite, and she will find that much which she calls "domestic duty," and which prevents her attention to intellectual, benevolent, and religious objects, should be called by a very different name. No woman has a right to give up attention to the higher interests of herself and others, for the ornaments of person or the gratification of the palate. To a certain extent, these lower objects are lawful and desirable; but when they intrude on nobler interests, they become selfish and degrading. Every woman, then, when employing her hands in ornamenting her person, her children, or her house, ought to calculate whether she has devoted as _much_ time to the really more important wants of herself and others. If she has not, she may know that she is doing wrong, and that her system for apportioning her time and pursuits should be altered. Some persons endeavor to systematize their pursuits by apportioning them to particular hours of each day. For example, a certain period before breakfast, is given to devotional duties; after breakfast, certain hours are devoted to exercise and domestic employments; other hours, to sewing, or reading, or visiting; and others, to benevolent duties. But in most cases, it is more difficult to systematize the hours of each day, than it is to secure some regular division of the week. In regard to the minutia of family work, the writer has known the following methods to be adopted. Monday, with some of the best housekeepers, is devoted to preparing for the labors of the week. Any extra cooking, the purchasing of articles to be used during the week, the assorting of clothes for the wash, and mending such as would otherwise be injured--these, and similar items, belong to this day. Tuesday is devoted to washing, and Wednesday to ironing. On Thursday, the ironing is finished off, the clothes are folded and put away, and all articles which need mending are put in the mending-basket, and attended to. Friday is devoted to sweeping and house-cleaning. On Saturday, and especially the last Saturday of every month, every department is put in order; the casters and table furniture are regulated, the pantry and cellar inspected, the trunks, drawers, and closets arranged, and every thing about the house put in order for Sunday. By this regular recurrence of a particular time for inspecting every thing, nothing is forgotten till ruined by neglect. Another mode of systematizing relates to providing proper supplies of conveniences, and proper places in which to keep them. Thus, some ladies keep a large closet, in which are placed the tubs, pails, dippers, soap-dishes, starch, blueing, clothes-lines, clothes-pins, and every other article used in washing; and in the same, or another place, is kept every convenience for ironing. In the sewing department, a trunk, with suitable partitions, is provided, in which are placed, each in its proper place, white thread of all sizes, colored thread, yarns for mending, colored and black sewing-silks and twist, tapes and bobbins of all sizes, white and colored welting-cords, silk braids and cords, needles of all sizes, papers of pins, remnants of linen and colored cambric, a supply of all kinds of buttons used in the family, black and white hooks and eyes, a yard measure, and all the patterns used in cutting and fitting. These are done up in separate parcels, and labeled. In another trunk, or in a piece-bag, such as has been previously described, are kept all pieces used in mending, arranged in order. A trunk, like the first mentioned, will save many steps, and often much time and perplexity; while by purchasing articles thus by the quantity, they come much cheaper than if bought in little portions as they are wanted. Such a trunk should be kept locked, and a smaller supply for current use retained in a work-basket. A full supply of all conveniences in the kitchen and cellar, and a place appointed for each article, very much facilitate domestic labor. For want of this, much vexation and loss of time is occasioned while seeking vessels in use, or in cleansing those employed by different persons for various purposes. It would be far better for a lady to give up some expensive article in the parlor, and apply the money thus saved for kitchen conveniences, than to have a stinted supply where the most labor is to be performed, If our countrywomen would devote more to comfort and convenience, and less to show, it would be a great improvement. Expensive mirrors and pier-tables in the parlor, and an unpainted, gloomy, ill-furnished kitchen, not unfrequently are found under the same roof. Another important item in systematic economy is, the apportioning of _regular_ employment to the various members of a family. If a housekeeper can secure the cooperation of _all_ her family, she will find that "many hands make light work." There is no greater mistake than in bringing up children to feel that they must be taken care of, and waited on by others, without any corresponding obligations on their part. The extent to which young children can be made useful in a family would seem surprising to those who have never seen a _systematic_ and _regular_ plan for utilizing their services. The writer has been in a family where a little girl, of eight or nine years of age, washed and dressed herself and young brother, and made their small beds, before breakfast; set and cleared all the tables for meals, with a little help from a grown person in moving tables and spreading cloths; while all the dusting of parlors and chambers was also neatly performed by her. A brother of ten years old brought in and piled all the wood used in the kitchen and parlor, brushed the boots and shoes, went on errands, and took all the care of the poultry. They were children whose parents could afford to hire servants to do this, but who chose to have their children grow up healthy and industrious, while proper instruction, system, and encouragement made these services rather a pleasure than otherwise, to the children. Some parents pay their children for such services; but this is hazardous, as tending to make them feel that they are not bound to be helpful without pay, and also as tending to produce a hoarding, money-making spirit. But where children have no hoarding propensities, and need to acquire a sense of the value of property, it may be well to let them earn money for some extra services rather as a favor. When this is done, they should be taught to spend it for others, as well as for themselves; and in this way, a generous and liberal spirit will be cultivated. There are some mothers who take pains to teach their boys most of the domestic arts which their sisters learn. The writer has seen boys mending their own garments and aiding their mother or sisters in the kitchen, with great skill and adroitness; and, at an early age, they usually very much relish joining in such occupations. The sons of such mothers, in their college life, or in roaming about the world, or in nursing a sick wife or infant, find occasion to bless the forethought and kindness which prepared them for such emergencies. Few things are in worse taste than for a man needlessly to busy himself in women's work; and yet a man never appears in a more interesting attitude than when, by skill in such matters, he can save a mother or wife from care and suffering. The more a boy is taught to use his hands, in every variety of domestic employment, the more his faculties, both of mind and body, are developed; for mechanical pursuits exercise the intellect as well as the hands. The early training of New-England boys, in which they turn their hand to almost every thing, is one great reason of the quick perceptions, versatility of mind, and mechanical skill, for which that portion of our countrymen is distinguished. It is equally important that young girls should be taught to do some species of handicraft that generally is done by men, and especially with reference to the frequent emigration to new territories where well-trained mechanics are scarce. To hang wall-paper, repair locks, glaze windows, and mend various household articles, requires a skill in the use of tools which every young girl should acquire. If she never has any occasion to apply this knowledge and skill by her own hands, she will often find it needful in directing and superintending incompetent workmen. The writer has known one mode of systematizing the aid of the older children in a family, which, in some cases of very large families, it may be well to imitate. In the case referred to, when the oldest daughter was eight or nine years old, an infant sister was given to her, as her special charge. She tended it, made and mended its clothes, taught it to read, and was its nurse and guardian, through all its childhood. Another infant was given to the next daughter, and thus the children were all paired in this interesting relation. In addition to the relief thus afforded to the mother, the elder children, were in this way qualified for their future domestic relations, and both older and younger bound to each other by peculiar ties of tenderness and gratitude. In offering these examples of various modes of systematizing, one suggestion may be worthy of attention. It is not unfrequently the case, that ladies, who find themselves cumbered with oppressive cares, after reading remarks on the benefits of system, immediately commence the task of arranging their pursuits, with great vigor and hope. They divide the day into regular periods, and give each hour its duty; they systematize their work, and endeavor to bring every thing into a regular routine. But, in a short time, they find themselves baffled, discouraged, and disheartened, and finally relapse into their former desultory ways, in a sort of resigned despair. The difficulty, in such cases, is, that they attempt too much at a time. There is nothing which so much depends upon _habit,_ as a systematic mode of performing duty; and where no such habit has been formed, it is impossible for a novice to start, at once, into a universal mode of systematizing, which none but an adept could carry through. The only way for such persons is to begin with a little at a time. Let them select some three or four things, and resolutely attempt to conquer at these points. In time, a habit will be formed, of doing a few things at regular periods, and in a systematic way. Then it will be easy to add a few more; and thus, by a gradual process, the object can be secured, which it would be vain to attempt by a more summary course. Early rising is almost an indispensable condition to success, in such an effort; but where a woman lacks either the health or the energy to secure a period for devotional duties before breakfast, let her select that hour of the day in which she will be least liable to interruption, and let her then seek strength and wisdom from the only true Source. At this time, let her take a pen, and make a list of all the things which she considers as duties. Then, let a calculation be made, whether there be time enough, in the day or the week, for all these duties. If there be not, let the least important be stricken from the list, as not being duties, and therefore to be omitted. In doing this, let a woman remember that, though "what we shall eat, and what we shall think, and wherewithal we shall be clothed," are matters requiring due attention, they are very apt to obtain a wrong relative importance, while intellectual, social, and moral interests receive too little regard. In this country, eating, dressing, and household furniture and ornaments, take far too large a place in the estimate of relative importance; and it is probable that most women could modify their views and practice, so as to come nearer to the Saviour's requirements. No woman has a right to put a stitch of ornament on any article of dress or furniture, or to provide one superfluity in food, until she is sure she can secure time for all her social, intellectual benevolent, and religions duties. If a woman will take the trouble to make such a calculation as this, she will usually find that she has time enough to perform all her duties easily and well. It is impossible for a conscientious woman to secure that peaceful mind and cheerful enjoyment of life which all should seek, who is constantly finding her duties jarring with each other, and much remaining undone, which she feels that she ought to do. In consequence of this, there will be a secret uneasiness, which will throw a shade over the whole current of life, never to be removed, till she so efficiently defines and regulates her duties that she can fulfill them all. And here the writer would urge upon young ladies the importance of forming habits of system, while unembarrassed with those multiplied cares which will make the task so much, more difficult and hopeless. Every young lady can systematize her pursuits, to a certain extent. She can have a particular day for mending her wardrobe, and for arranging her trunks, closets, and drawers. She can keep her work-basket, her desk at school, and all her other conveniences, in their proper places, and in regular order. She can have regular periods for reading, walking, visiting, study, and domestic pursuits. And by following this method in youth, she will form a taste for regularity and a habit of system, which will prove a blessing to her through life. XVIII. GIVING IN CHARITY. It is probable that there is no point of duty whereon conscientious persons differ more in opinion, or where they find it more difficult to form discriminating and decided views, than on the matter of charity. That we are bound to give some of our time, money, and efforts, to relieve the destitute, all allow. But, as to how much we are to give, and on whom our charities shall be bestowed, many a reflecting mind has been at a loss. Yet it seems very desirable that, in reference to a duty so constantly and so strenuously urged by the Supreme Ruler, we should be able so to fix metes and bounds, as to keep a conscience void of offense, and to free the mind from disquieting fears of deficiency. The writer has found no other topic of investigation so beset with difficulty, and so absolutely without the range of definite rules which can apply to all, in all circumstances. But on this, as on previous topics, there seem to be _general principles_, by the aid of which any candid mind, sincerely desirous of obeying the commands of Christ, however much self-denial may be involved, can arrive at definite conclusions as to its own individual obligations; so that when these are fulfilled, the mind may be at peace. But for a mind that is worldly, living mainly to seek its own pleasures instead of living to please God, no principles can be so fixed as not to leave a ready escape from all obligation. Such minds, either by indolence (and consequent ignorance) or by sophistry, will convince themselves that a life of engrossing self-indulgence, with perhaps the gift of a few dollars and a few hours of time, may suffice to fulfill the requisitions of the Eternal Judge. For such minds, no reasonings will avail, till the heart is so changed that to learn the will and follow the example of Jesus Christ become the leading objects of interest and effort. It is to aid those who profess to possess this temper of mind that the following suggestions are offered. The first consideration which gives definiteness to this subject is a correct view of the object for which we are placed in this world. A great many, even of professed Christians, seem to be acting on the supposition that the object of life is to secure as ranch as possible of all the various enjoyments placed within reach. Not so teaches reason or revelation. From these we learn that, though the happiness of his creatures is the end for which God created and sustains them, yet this happiness depends not on the various modes of gratification put within our reach, but mainly on _character_. A man may possess all the resources for enjoyment which this world can afford, and yet feel that "all is vanity and vexation of spirit," and that he is supremely wretched. Another may be in want of all things, and yet possess that living spring of benevolence, faith, and hope, which will make an Eden of the darkest prison. In order to be perfectly happy, man must attain that character which Christ exhibited; and the nearer he approaches it, the more will happiness reign in his breast. But what was the grand peculiarity of the character of Christ? It was _self-denying benevolence_. He came not to "seek his own;" He "went about doing good," and this was his "meat and drink;" that is, it was this which sustained the health and life of his mind, as food and drink sustain the health and life of the body. Now, the mind of man is so made that it can gradually be transformed into the same likeness. A selfish being, who, for a whole life, has been nourishing habits of indolent self-indulgence, can, by taking Christ as his example, by communion with him, and by daily striving to imitate his character and conduct, form such a temper of mind that "doing good" will become the chief and highest source of enjoyment. And this heavenly principle will grow stronger and stronger, until self-denial loses the more painful part of its character; and then, _living to make happiness_ will be so delightful and absorbing a pursuit, that all exertions, regarded as the means to this end, will be like the joyous efforts of men when they strive for a prize or a crown, with the full hope of success. In this view of the subject, efforts and self-denial for the good of others are to be regarded not merely as duties enjoined for the benefit of others, but as the moral training indispensable to the formation of that character on which depends our own happiness. This view exhibits the full meaning of the Saviour's declaration, "How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God!" He had before taught that the kingdom of heaven consisted not in such enjoyments as the worldly seek, but in the temper of self-denying benevolence, like his own; and as the rich have far greater temptations to indolent self-indulgence, they are far less likely to acquire this temper than those who, by limited means, are inured to some degree of self-denial. But on this point, one important distinction needs to be made; and that is, between the self-denial which has no other aim than mere self-mortification, and that which is exercised to secure greater good to ourselves and others. The first is the foundation of monasticism, penances, and all other forms of asceticism; the latter, only, is that which Christianity requires. A second consideration, which may give definiteness to this subject, is, that the formation of a perfect character involves, not the extermination of any principles of our nature, but rather the regulating of them, according to the rules of reason and religion; so that the lower propensities shall always be kept subordinate to nobler principles. Thus we are not to aim at destroying our appetites, or at needlessly denying them, but rather so to regulate them that they shall best secure the objects for which they were implanted. We are not to annihilate the love of praise and admiration; but so to control it that the favor of God shall be regarded more than the estimation of men. We are not to extirpate the principle of curiosity, which leads us to acquire knowledge; but so to direct it, that all our acquisitions shall be useful and not frivolous or injurious. And thus with all the principles of the mind: God has implanted no desires in our constitution which are evil and pernicious. On the contrary, all our constitutional propensities, either of mind or body, he designed we should gratify, whenever no evils would thence result, either to ourselves or others. Such passions as envy, selfish ambition, contemptuous pride, revenge, and hatred, are to be exterminated; for they are either excesses or excrescences, not created by God, but rather the result of our own neglect to form habits of benevolence and self-control. In deciding the rules of our conduct, therefore, we are ever to bear in mind that the development of the nobler principles, and the subjugation of inferior propensities to them, is to be the main object of effort both for ourselves and for others. And in conformity with this, in all our plans we are to place religious and moral interests as first in estimation, our social and intellectual interests next, and our physical gratifications as subordinate to all. A third consideration is that, though the means for sustaining life and health are to be regarded as necessaries, without which no other duties can be performed, yet a very large portion of the time spent by most persons in easy circumstances for food, raiment, and dwellings, is for mere _superfluities;_ which are right when they do not involve the sacrifice of higher interests, and wrong when they do. Life and health can be sustained in the humblest dwellings, with the plainest dress, and the simplest food; and, after taking from our means what is necessary for life and health, the remainder is to be so divided, that the larger portion shall be given to supply the moral and intellectual wants of ourselves and others, together with the physical requirements of the destitute, and the smaller share to procure those additional gratifications of taste and appetite which are desirable but not indispensable. Mankind, thus far, have never made this apportionment of their means; although, just as fast as they have risen from a savage state, mere physical wants have been made, to an increasing extent, subordinate to higher objects. Another very important consideration is that, in urging the duty of charity and the prior claims of moral and religious objects, no rule of duty should be maintained which it would not be right and wise for _all_ to follow. And we are to test the wisdom of any general rule by inquiring what would be the result if all mankind should practice according to it. In view of this, we are enabled to judge of the correctness of those who maintain that, to be consistent, men believing in the perils of all those of our race who are not brought under the influence of the Christian system should give up not merely the elegancies but all the superfluities of life, and devote the whole of their means not indispensable to life and health to the propagation of Christianity. But if this is the duty of any, it is the duty of all; and we are to inquire what would be the result, if all conscientious persons gave up the use of all superfluities. Suppose that two millions of the people of the United States were conscientious persons, and relinquished the use of every thing not absolutely necessary to life and health. Besides reducing the education of the people in all the higher walks of intellectual, social, and even moral development, to very narrow limits, it would instantly throw out of employment one half of the whole community. The writers, book-makers, manufacturers, mechanics, merchants agriculturists, and all the agencies they employ, would be beggared, and one half of those not reduced to poverty would be obliged to spend all their extra means in-simply supplying necessaries to the other half. The use of superfluities, therefore, to a certain extent, is as indispensable to promote industry, virtue, and religion, as any direct giving of money or time; and it is owing entirely to a want of reflection and of comprehensive views, that any men ever make so great a mistake as is here exhibited. Instead, then, of urging a rule of duty which is at once irrational and impracticable, there is another course, which commends itself to the understandings of all. For whatever may be the practice of intelligent men, they universally concede the principle, that our physical gratifications should always be made subordinate to social, intellectual, and moral advantages. And all that is required for the advancement of our whole race to the most perfect state of society is, simply, that men should act in agreement with this principle. And if only a very small portion of the most intelligent of our race should act according to this rule, under the control of Christian benevolence, the immense supplies furnished for the general good would be far beyond what any would imagine who had never made any calculations on the subject. In this nation alone, suppose the one million and more of professed followers of Christ should give a larger portion of their means for the social, intellectual, and moral wants of mankind, than for the superfluities that minister to their own taste, convenience, and appetite; it would be enough to furnish all the schools, colleges, Bibles, ministers, and missionaries, that the whole world could demand; or, at least, it would be far more than properly qualified agents to administer it could employ. But it may be objected that, though this view in the abstract looks plausible and rational, not one in a thousand can practically adopt it. How few keep any account, at all, of their current expenses! How impossible it is to determine, exactly, what are necessaries and what are superfluities! And in regard to women, how few have the control of an income, so as not to be bound by the wishes of a parent or a husband! In reference to these difficulties, the first remark is, that we are never under obligations to do what is entirely out of our power; so that those persons who can not regulate their expenses or their charities are under no sort of obligation to attempt it. The second remark is that, when a rule of duty is discovered, if we can not fully attain to it, we are bound to _aim_ at it, and to fulfill it just so far as we can. We have no right to throw it aside because we shall find some difficult cases when we come to apply it. The third remark is, that no person can tell how much can be done, till a faithful trial has been made. If a woman has never kept any accounts, nor attempted to regulate her expenditures by the right rule, nor used her influence with those that control her plans, to secure this object, she has no right to say how much she can or can not do, till after a fair trial has been made. In attempting such a trial, the following method can be taken. Let a woman, keep an account of all she spends, for herself and her family, for a year, arranging the items under three general heads. Under the first, put all articles of food, raiment, rent, wages, and all conveniences. Under the second, place all sums paid in securing an education, and books, and other intellectual advantages. Under the third head, place all that is spent for benevolence and religion. At the end of the year, the first and largest account will show the mixed items of necessaries and superfluities, which can be arranged so as to gain some sort of idea how much has been spent for superfluities and how much for necessaries. Then, by comparing what is spent for superfluities, with what is spent for intellectual and moral advantages, data will be gained for judging of the past and regulating the future. Does a woman say she can not do this? let her think whether the offer of a thousand dollars, as a reward-for attempting it one year, would not make her undertake to do it; and if so, let her decide, in her own mind, which is most valuable, a clear conscience, and the approbation of God, in this effort to do his will, or one thousand dollars. And let her do it, with this warning of the Saviour before her eyes--"No man can serve two masters." "Ye can not serve God and Mammon." Is it objected, How can we decide between superfluities and necessities, in this list? It is replied, that we are not required to judge exactly, in all cases. Our duty is, to use the means in our power to assist us in forming a correct judgment; to seek the divine aid in freeing our minds from indolence and selfishness; and then to judge, as well as we can, in our endeavors rightly to apportion and regulate our expenses. Many persons seem to feel that they are bound to do better than they know how. But God is not so hard a master; and after we have used all proper means to learn the right way, if we then follow it according to our ability, we do wrong to feel misgivings, or to blame ourselves, if results come out differently from what seems desirable. The results of our actions, alone, can never prove as deserving of blame. For men are often so placed that, owing to lack of intellect or means, it is impossible for them to decide correctly. To use all the means of knowledge within our reach, and then to judge, with a candid and conscientious spirit, is all that God requires; and when we have done this, and the event seems to come out wrong, we should never wish that we had decided otherwise. For this would be the same as wishing that we had not followed the dictates of judgment and conscience. As this is a world designed for discipline and trial, untoward events are never to be construed as indications of the obliquity of our past decisions. But it is probable that a great portion of the women of this nation can not secure any such systematic mode of regulating their expenses. To such, the writer would propose one inquiry: Can not you calculate how much _time_ and _money_ you spend for what is merely ornamental, and not necessary, for yourself, your children, and your house? Can not you compare this with the time and money you spend for intellectual and benevolent purposes? and will not this show the need of some change? In making this examination, is not this brief rule, deducible from the principles before laid down, the one which should regulate you? Every person does right in spending some portion of time and means in securing the conveniences and adornments of taste; but the amount should never exceed what is spent in securing our own moral and intellectual improvement, nor what is spent in benevolent efforts to supply the physical and moral wants of our fellow-men. In making an examination on this subject, it is sometimes the case that a woman will count among the _necessaries_ of life all the various modes of adorning the person or house, practiced in the circle in which she moves; and, after enumerating the many _duties_ which demand attention, counting these as a part, she will come to the conclusion that she has no time, and but little money, to devote to personal improvement or to benevolent enterprises. This surely is not in agreement with the requirements of the Saviour, who calls on us to seek for others, as well as ourselves, _first of all_, "the kingdom of God, and his righteousness." In order to act in accordance with the rule here presented, it is true that many would be obliged to give up the idea of conforming to the notions and customs of those with whom they associate, and compelled to adopt the maxim, "Be not conformed to this world." In many cases it would involve an entire change in the style of living. And the writer has the happiness of knowing more cases than one, where persons who have come to similar views on this subject, have given up large and expensive establishments, disposed of their carriages, dismissed a portion of their domestics, and modified all their expenditures, that they might keep a pure conscience, and regulate their charities more according to the requirements of Christianity. And there are persons, well known in the religious world, who save themselves all labor of minute calculation, by devoting so large a portion of their time and means to benevolent objects, that they find no difficulty in knowing that they give more for religious, benevolent, and intellectual purposes than for superfluities. In deciding what particular objects shall receive our benefactions, there are also general principles to guide us. The first is that presented by our Saviour, when, after urging the great law of benevolence, he was asked, "And who is my neighbor?" His reply, in the parable of "the Good Samaritan," teaches us that any human being whose wants are brought to our knowledge is our neighbor. The wounded man in that parable was not only a stranger, but he belonged to a foreign nation, peculiarly hated; and he had no claim, except that his wants were brought to the knowledge of the wayfaring man. From this we learn that the destitute of all nations become our neighbors, as soon as their wants are brought to our knowledge. Another general principle is this, that those who are most in need must be relieved in preference to those who are less destitute. On this principle it is, that we think the followers of Christ should give more to supply those who are suffering for want of the bread of eternal life, than for those who are deprived of physical enjoyments. And another reason for this preference is the fact that many who give in charity have made such imperfect advances in civilization and Christianity that the intellectual and moral wants of our race make but a feeble impression on the mind. Relate a pitiful tale of a family reduced to live for weeks on potatoes only, and many a mind would awake to deep sympathy and stretch forth the hand of charity. But describe cases where the immortal mind is pining in stupidity and ignorance, or racked with the fever of baleful passions, and how small the number so elevated in sentiment and so enlarged in their views as to appreciate and sympathize in these far greater misfortunes! The intellectual and moral wants of our fellow-men, therefore, should claim the first place in general Christian attention, both because they are most important, and because they are most neglected; while it should not be forgotten, in giving personal attention to the wants of the poor, that the relief of immediate physical distress, is often the easiest way of touching the moral sensibilities of the destitute. Another consideration to be borne in mind is that, in this country, there is much less real need of charity in supplying physical necessities than is generally supposed by those who have not learned the more excellent way. This land is so abundant in supplies, and labor is in such demand, that every healthy person can earn a comfortable support. And if all the poor were instantly made virtuous, it is probable that there would be few physical wants which could not readily be supplied by the immediate friends of each sufferer. The sick, the aged, and the orphan would be the only objects of charity. In this view of the case, the primary effort in relieving the poor should be to furnish them the means of earning their own support, and to supply them with those moral influences which are most effectual in securing virtue and industry. Another point to be attended to is the importance of maintaining a system of _associated_ charities. There is no point in which the economy of charity has more improved than in the present mode of combining many small contributions, for sustaining enlarged and systematic plans of charity. If all the half-dollars which are now contributed to aid in organized systems of charity were returned to the donors, to be applied by the agency and discretion of each, thousands and thousands of the treasures, now employed to promote the moral and intellectual wants of mankind, would become entirely useless in a democracy like ours, where few are very rich and the majority are in comfortable circumstances, this collecting and dispensing of drops and rills is the mode by which, in imitation of nature, the dews and showers are to distill on parched and desert lands. And every person, while earning a pittance to unite with many more, may be cheered with the consciousness of sustaining a grand system of operations which must have the most decided influence in raising all mankind to that perfect state of society which Christianity is designed to bring about. Another consideration relates to the indiscriminate bestowal of charity. Persons who have taken pains to inform themselves, and who devote their whole time to dispensing charities, unite in declaring that this is one of the most fruitful sources of indolence, vice, and poverty. From several of these the writer has learned that, by their own personal investigations, they have ascertained that there are large establishments of idle and wicked persons in most of our cities, who associate together to support themselves by every species of imposition. They hire large houses, and live in constant rioting on the means thus obtained. Among them are women who have or who hire the use of infant children; others, who are blind, or maimed, or deformed, or who can adroitly feign such infirmities; and, by these means of exciting pity, and by artful tales of woe, they collect alms, both in city and country, to spend in all manner of gross and guilty indulgences. Meantime many persons, finding themselves often duped by impostors, refuse to give at all; and thus many benefactions are withdrawn, which a wise economy in charity would have secured. For this and other reasons, it is wise and merciful to adopt the general rule, never to give alms till we have had some opportunity of knowing how they will be spent. There are exceptions to this, as to every general rule, which a person of discretion can determine. But the practice so common among benevolent persons, of giving at least a trifle to all who ask, lest perchance they may turn away some who are really sufferers, is one which causes more sin and misery than it cures. The writer has never known any system for dispensing charity so successful as the one by which a town or city is divided into districts; and each district is committed to the care of two ladies, whose duty it is, to call on each family and leave a book for a child, or do some other deed of neighborly kindness, and make that the occasion for entering into conversation, and learning the situation of all residents in the district. By this method, the ignorant, the vicious, and the poor are discovered, and their physical, intellectual, and moral wants are investigated. In some places where the writer has known this mode pursued, each person retained the same district, year after year, so that every poor family in the place was under the watch and care of some intelligent and benevolent lady, who used all her influence to secure a proper education for the children, to furnish them with suitable reading, to encourage habits of industry and economy, and to secure regular attendance on public religious instruction. Thus, the rich and the poor were brought in contact, in a way advantageous to both parties; and if such a system could be universally adopted, more would be done for the prevention of poverty and vice than all the wealth of the nation could avail for their relief. But this plan can not be successfully carried out, in this manner, unless there is a large proportion of intelligent, benevolent, and self-denying persons, who unite in a systematic plan. But there is one species of "charity" which needs especial consideration. It is that spirit of kindly love which induces us to refrain from judging of the means and the relative charities of other persons. There have been such indistinct notions, and so many different standards of duty, on this subject, that it is rare for two persons to think exactly alike, in regard to the rule of duty. Each person is bound to inquire and judge for himself, as to his own duty or deficiencies; but as both the resources and the amount of the actual charities of others are beyond our ken, it is as indecorous as it is uncharitable to sit in judgment on their decisions. XIX. ECONOMY OF TIME AND EXPENSES. The value of time, and our obligation to spend every hour for some useful end, are what few minds properly realize. And those who have the highest sense of their obligations in this respect, sometimes greatly misjudge in their estimate of what are useful and proper modes of employing time. This arises from limited views of the importance of some pursuits, which they would deem frivolous and useless, but which are in reality necessary to preserve the health of body and mind and those social affections which it is very important to cherish. Christianity teaches that, for all the time afforded us, we must give account to God; and that we have no right to waste a single hour. But time which is spent in rest or amusement is often as usefully employed as if it were devoted to labor or devotion. In employing our time, we are to make suitable allowance for sleep, for preparing and taking food, for securing the means of a livelihood, for intellectual improvement, for exercise and amusement, for social enjoyments, and for benevolent and religious duties. And it is the _right apportionment_ of time, to these various duties, which constitutes its true economy. In deciding respecting the rectitude of our pursuits, we are bound to aim at some practical good, as the ultimate object. With every duty of this life, our benevolent Creator has connected some species of enjoyment, to draw us to perform it. Thus, the palate is gratified, by performing the duty of nourishing our bodies; the principle of curiosity is gratified in pursuing useful knowledge; the desire of approbation is gratified, when we perform general social duties; and every other duty has an alluring enjoyment connected with it. But the great mistake of mankind has consisted in seeking the pleasures connected with these duties, as the sole aim, without reference to the main end that should be held in view, and to which the enjoyment should be made subservient. Thus, men gratify the palate, without reference to the question whether the body is properly nourished: and follow after knowledge, without inquiring whether it ministers to good or evil; and seek amusement without reference to results. In gratifying the implanted desires of our nature, we are bound so to restrain ourselves, by reason and conscience, as always to seek the main objects of existence--the highest good of ourselves and others; and never to sacrifice this for the mere gratification of our desires. We are to gratify appetite, just so far as is consistent with health and usefulness; and the desire for knowledge, just so far as will enable us to do most good by our influence and efforts; and no farther. We are to seek social intercourse, to that extent which will best promote domestic enjoyment and kindly feelings among neighbors and friends; and we are to pursue exercise and amusement, only so far as will best sustain the vigor of body and mind. The laws of the Supreme Ruler, when he became the civil as well as the religious Head of the Jewish theocracy, furnish an example which it would be well for all attentively to consider, when forming plans for the apportionment of time and property. To properly estimate this example, it must be borne in mind, that the main object of God was, to set an example of the temporal rewards that follow obedience to the laws of the Creator, and at the same time to prepare religious teachers to extend the true religion to the whole race of man. Before Christ came, the Jews were not required to go forth to other nations as teachers of religion, nor were the Jewish nation led to obedience by motives of a life to come. To them God was revealed, both as a father and a civil ruler, and obedience to laws relating solely to this life was all that was required. So low were they in the scale of civilization and mental development, that a system which confined them to one spot, as an agricultural people, and prevented their growing very rich, or having extensive commerce with other nations, was indispensable to prevent their relapsing into the low idolatries and vices of the nations around them, while temporal rewards and penalties were more effective than those of a life to come. The proportion of time and property, which every Jew was required to devote to intellectual, benevolent, and religious purposes, was as follows: In regard to property, they were required to give one tenth of all their yearly income to support the Levites, the priests, and the religious service. Next, they were required to give the first-fruits of all their corn, wine, oil, and fruits, and the first-born of all their cattle, for the Lord's treasury, to be employed for the priests, the widow, the fatherless, and the stranger. The first-born, also, of their children, were the Lord's, and were to be redeemed by a specified sum, paid into the sacred treasury. Besides this, they were required to bring a free-will offering to God, every time they went up to the three great yearly festivals. In addition to this, regular yearly sacrifices of cattle and fowls were required of each family, and occasional sacrifices for certain sins or ceremonial Impurities. In reaping their fields, they were required to leave unreaped, for the poor, the corners; not to glean their fields, oliveyards, or vineyards; and, if a sheaf was left by mistake, they were not to return for it but leave it for the poor. One twelfth of the people were set apart, having no landed property, to be priests and teachers; and the other tribes were required to support them liberally. In regard to the time taken from secular pursuits, for the support of education and religion, an equally liberal amount was demanded. In the first place, one seventh part of their time was taken for the weekly sabbath, when no kind of work was to be done. Then the whole nation were required to meet at the appointed place three times a year, which, including their journeys and stay there, occupied eight weeks, or another seventh part of their time. Then the sabbatical year, when no agricultural labor was to be done, took another seventh of their time from their regular pursuits, as they were an agricultural people. This was the amount of time and property demanded by God, simply to sustain education, religion, and morality within the bounds of one nation. It was promised to this nation and fulfilled by constant miraculous interpositions, that in this life, obedience to God's laws should secure health, peace, prosperity, and long life; while for disobedience was threatened war, pestilence, famine, and all temporal evils. These promises were constantly verified, and in the day of Solomon, when, this nation was most obedient, the whole world was moved with wonder at its wealth and prosperity. But up to this time, no attempt was made by God to govern the Israelites by the rewards and penalties of the world to come. But "when the fullness of time had come," and the race of man was prepared to receive higher responsibilities, Jesus Christ came and "brought life and immortality to light" with a clearness never before revealed. At the same time was revealed the fatherhood of God, not to the Jews alone, but to the whole human race, and the consequent brotherhood of man; and these revelations in many respects changed the whole standard of duty and obligation. Christ came as "God manifest in the flesh," to set an example of self-sacrificing love, in rescuing the whole family of man from the dangers of the unseen world, and also to teach and train his disciples through all time to follow his example. And those who conform the most consistently to his teachings and example will aim at a standard of labor and self-denial far beyond that demanded of the Jews. It is not always that men understand the economy of Providence, in that unequal distribution of property which, even under the most perfect form of government, will always exist. Many, looking at the present state of things, imagine that the rich, if they acted in strict conformity to the law of benevolence, would share all their property with their suffering fellow-men. But such do not take into account the inspired declaration that "a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth," or, in other words, life is made valuable, not by great possessions, but by such a character as prepares a man to enjoy what he holds. God perceives that human character can be most improved by that kind of discipline which exists when there is something valuable to be gained by industrious efforts. This stimulus to industry could never exist in a community where all are just alike, as it does in a state of society where every man sees possessed by others enjoyments which he desires and may secure by effort and industry. So, in a community where all are alike as to property, there would be no chance to gain that noblest of all attainments, a habit of self-denying benevolence which toils for the good of others, and takes from one's own store to increase the enjoyments of another. Instead, then, of the stagnation, both of industry and of benevolence, which would follow the universal and equable distribution, of property, some men, by superior advantages of birth, or intellect, or patronage, come into possession of a great amount of capital. With these means they are enabled, by study, reading, and travel, to secure expansion of mind and just views of the relative advantages of moral, intellectual, and physical enjoyments. At the same time, Christianity imposes obligations corresponding with the increase of advantages and means. The rich are not at liberty to spend their treasures chiefly for themselves. Their wealth is given, by God, to be employed for the best good of mankind; and their intellectual advantages are designed, primarily, to enable them to judge correctly in employing their means most wisely for the general good. Now, suppose a man of wealth inherits ten thousand acres of real estate; it is not his duty to divide it among his poor neighbors and tenants. If he took this course, it is probable that most of them would spend all in thriftless waste and indolence, or in mere physical enjoyments. Instead, then, of thus putting his capital out of his hands, he is bound to retain and so to employ it as to raise his family and his neighbors to such a state of virtue and intelligence that they can secure far more, by their own efforts and industry, than he, by dividing his capital, could bestow upon them. In this view of the subject, it is manifest that the unequal distribution of property is no evil. The great difficulty is, that so large a portion of those who hold much capital, instead of using their various advantages for the greatest good of those around them, employ them for mere selfish indulgences; thus inflicting as much mischief on themselves as results to others from their culpable neglect. A great portion of the rich seem to be acting on the principle that the more God bestows on them the less are they under obligation to practice any self-denial in fulfilling his benevolent plan of raising our race to intelligence and virtue. But there are cheering examples of the contrary spirit and prejudice, some of which will be here recorded to influence and encourage others. A lady of great wealth, high position, and elegant culture, in one of our large cities, hired and furnished a house adjacent to her own, and, securing the aid of another benevolent and cultivated woman, took twelve orphan girls, of different ages, and educated them under their joint care. Not only time and money were given, but love and labor, just as if these were their own children; and as fast as one was provided for, another was taken. In another city, a young lady with property of her own hired a house and made it a home for homeless and unprotected women, who paid board when they could earn it, and found a refuge when out of employment. In another city, the wife of one of its richest merchants, living in princely style, took two young girls from the certain road to ruin among the vicious poor. She boarded them with a respectable farmer, and sent them to school, and every week went out, not only to supervise them, but to aid in training them to habits of neatness, industry, and obedience, just as if they were her own children. Next, she hired a large house near the most degraded part of the city, furnished it neatly and with all suitable conveniences to work, and then rented to those among the most degraded whom she could bring to conform to a few simple rules of decency, industry, and benevolence--one of these rules being that they should pay her the rent every Saturday night. To this motley gathering she became chief counselor and friend, quieted their brawls, taught them to aid each other in trouble or sickness, and strove to introduce among them that law of patient love and kindness, illustrated by her own example. The young girls in this tenement she assembled every Saturday at her own house--taught them to sing, heard them recite their Sunday-school lessons, to be sure these were properly learned; taught them to make and mend their own clothing, trimmed their bonnets, and took charge of their Sunday dress, that it might always be in order. Of course, such benevolence drew a stream of ignorance and misery to her door; and so successful was her labor that she hired a second house, and managed it on the same plan. One hot day in August, a friend found her combing the head of a poor, ungainly, foreign girl. She had persuaded a friend to take her from compassion, and she was returned because her head was in such in a state. Finding no one else to do it, the lady herself bravely met the difficulty, and persevered in this daily ministry till the evil was remedied, and the poor girl thus secured a comfortable home and wages. A young lady of wealth and position, with great musical culture and taste, found among the poor two young girls with fine voices and great musical talent. Gaining her parents' consent, the young lady took one of them home, trained her in music, and saw that her school education was secured, so that when expensive masters and instruments were needed the girl herself earned the money required, as a governess in a family of wealthy friends. Then she aided the sister; and, as the result, one of them is married happily to a man of great wealth, and the other is receiving a large income as a popular musical artist. Another young girl, educated as a fine musician by her wealthy parents, at the age of sixteen was afflicted with weak eyes and a heart complaint. She strove to solace herself by benevolent ministries. By teaching music to children of wealthy friends she earned the means to relieve and instruct the suffering, ignorant, and poor. These examples may suffice to show that, even among the most wealthy, abundant modes of self-denying benevolence may be found where there is a heart to seek them. There is no direction in which a true Christian economy of time and money is more conspicuous than in the style of living adopted in the family state. Those who build stately mansions, and lay out extensive grounds, and multiply the elegancies of life, to be enjoyed by themselves and a select few, "have their reward" in the enjoyments that end in this life. But those who with, equal means adopt a style that enables them largely to devote time and wealth to the elevation and improvement of their fellow-men, are laying up never-failing treasures in heaven. XX. HEALTH OF MIND. There is such an intimate connection between the body and mind that the health of one can not be preserved without a proper care of the other. And it is from a neglect of this principle, that some of the most exemplary and conscientious persons in the world suffer a thousand mental agonies from a diseased state of body, while others ruin the health of the body by neglecting the proper care of the mind. When the mind is excited by earnest intellectual effort, or by strong passions, the blood rushes to the head and the brain is excited. Sir Astley Cooper records that, in examining the brain of a young man who had lost a portion of his skull, whenever "he was agitated by some opposition to his wishes," "the blood was sent with increased force to his brain," and the pulsations "became frequent and violent." The same effect was produced by any intellectual effort; and the flushed countenance which attends earnest study or strong emotions of interest of any kind, is an external indication of the suffused state of the brain from such causes. In exhibiting the causes which injure the health of the mind, we shall find them to be partly physical, partly intellectual, and partly moral. The first cause of mental disease and suffering is not unfrequently in the want of a proper supply of duly oxygenized blood. It has been shown that the blood, in passing through the lungs, is purified by the oxygen of the air combining with the superabundant hydrogen and carbon of the venous blood, thus forming carbonic acid and water, which are expired into the atmosphere. Every pair of lungs is constantly withdrawing from the surrounding atmosphere its healthful principle, and returning one which is injurious to human life. When, by confinement and this process, the air is deprived of its appropriate supply of oxygen, the purification of the blood is interrupted, and it passes without being properly prepared into the brain, producing languor, restlessness, and inability to exercise the intellect and feelings. Whenever, therefore, persons sleep in a close apartment, or remain for a length of time in a crowded or ill-ventilated room, a most pernicious influence is exerted on the brain, and, through this, on the mind. A person who is often exposed to such influences can never enjoy that elasticity and vigor of mind which is one of the chief indications of its health. This is the reason why all rooms for religious meetings, and all school-rooms and sleeping apartments should be so contrived as to secure a constant supply of fresh air from without. The minister who preaches in a crowded and ill-ventilated apartment loses much of his power to feel and to speak, while the audience are equally reduced in their capability of attending. The teacher who confines children in a close apartment diminishes their ability to study, or to attend to instructions. And the person who habitually sleeps in a close room impairs mental energy in a similar degree. It is not unfrequently the case that depression of spirits and stupor of intellect are occasioned solely by inattention to this subject. Another cause of mental disease is the excessive exercise of the intellect or feelings. If the eye is taxed beyond its strength by protracted use, its blood-vessels become gorged, and the bloodshot appearance warns of the excess and the need of rest. The brain is affected in a similar manner by excessive use, though the suffering and inflamed organ can not make its appeal to the eye. But there are some indications which ought never to be misunderstood or disregarded. In cases of pupils at school or at college, a diseased state, from over-action, is often manifested by increased clearness of mind, and temporary ease and vigor of mental action. In one instance, known to the writer, a most exemplary and industrious pupil, anxious to improve every hour and ignorant or unmindful of the laws of health, first manifested the diseased state of her brain and mind by demands for more studies, and a sudden and earnest activity in planning modes of improvement for herself and others. When warned of her danger, she protested that she never was better in her life; that she took regular exercise in the open air, went to bed in season, slept soundly, and felt perfectly well; that her mind was never before so bright and clear, and study never so easy and delightful. And at this time, she was on the verge of derangement, from which she was saved only by an entire cessation of all intellectual efforts. A similar case occurred, under the eye of the writer, from over-excited feelings. It was during a time of unusual religious interest in the community, and the mental disease was first manifested by the pupil bringing her hymn-book or Bible to the class-room, and making it her constant resort, in every interval of school duty. It finally became impossible to convince her that it was her duty to attend to any thing else; her conscience became morbidly sensitive, her perceptions indistinct, her deductions unreasonable; and nothing but entire change of scene and exercise, and occupation of her mind by amusement, saved her. When the health of the brain was restored, she found that she could attend to the "one thing needful," not only without interruption of duty or injury to health, but rather so as to promote both. Clergymen and teachers need most carefully to notice and guard against the dangers here alluded to. Any such attention to religion as prevents the performance of daily duties and needful relaxation is dangerous, and tends to produce such a state of the brain as makes it impossible to feel or judge correctly. And when any morbid and unreasonable pertinacity appears, much exercise and engagement in other interesting pursuits should be urged, as the only mode of securing the religious benefits aimed at. And whenever any mind is oppressed with care, anxiety, or sorrow, the amount of active exercise in the fresh air should be greatly increased, that the action of the muscles may withdraw the blood which, in such seasons, is constantly tending too much to the brain. There has been a most appalling amount of suffering, derangement, disease, and death, occasioned by a want of attention to this subject, in teachers and parents. Uncommon precocity in children is usually the result of an unhealthy state of the brain; and in such cases medical men would now direct that the wonderful child should be deprived of all books and study, and turned to play out in the fresh air. Instead of this, parents frequently add fuel to the fever of the brain, by supplying constant mental stimulus, until the victim finds refuge in idiocy or an early grave. Where such fatal results do not occur, the brain in many cases is so weakened that the prodigy of infancy sinks below the medium of intellectual powers in afterlife. In our colleges, too, many of the most promising minds sink to an early grave, or drag out a miserable existence, from this same cause. And it is an evil as yet little alleviated by the increase of physiological knowledge. Every college and professional school, and every seminary for young ladies, needs a medical man or woman, not only to lecture on physiology and the laws of health, but empowered by official capacity to investigate the case of every pupil, and, by authority, to enforce such a course of study, exercise and repose, as the physical system requires. The writer has found by experience that in a large institution there is one class of pupils who need to be restrained by penalties from late hours and excessive study, as much as another class need stimulus to industry. Under the head of excessive mental action, must be placed the indulgence of the imagination in novel-reading and "castle-building." This kind of stimulus, unless counterbalanced by physical exercise, not only wastes time and energies, but undermines the vigor of the nervous system. The imagination was designed by our wise Creator as a charm and stimulus to animate to benevolent activity; and its perverted exercise seldom fails to bring a penalty. Another cause of mental disease is the want of the appropriate exercise of the various faculties of the mind. On this point, Dr. Combe remarks: "We have seen that, by disuse, muscles become emaciated, bone softens, blood-vessels are obliterated, and nerves lose their characteristic structure. The brain is no exception to this general rule. The tone of it is also impaired by permanent inactivity, and it becomes less fit to manifest the mental powers with readiness and energy." It is "the withdrawal of the stimulus necessary for its healthy exercise which renders solitary confinement so severe a punishment, even to the most daring minds. It is a lower degree of the same cause which renders continuous seclusion from society so injurious to both mental and bodily health." "Inactivity of intellect and of feeling is a very frequent predisposing cause of every form of nervous disease. For demonstrative evidence of this position, we have only to look at the numerous victims to be found among persons who have no call to exertion in gaining the means of subsistence, and no objects of interest on which to exercise their mental faculties, and who consequently sink into a state of mental sloth and nervous weakness." "If we look abroad upon society, we shall find innumerable examples of mental and nervous debility from this cause. When a person of some mental capacity is confined for a long time to an unvarying round of employment which affords neither scope nor stimulus for one half of the faculties, and, from want of education or society, has no external resources; the mental powers, for want of exercise, become blunted, and the perceptions slow and dull." "The intellect and feelings, not being provided with interests external to themselves, must either become inactive and weak, or work upon themselves and become diseased." "The most frequent victims of this kind of predisposition are females of the middle and higher ranks, especially those of a nervous constitution and good natural abilities; but who, from an ill-directed education, possess nothing more solid than mere accomplishments, and have no materials for thought," and no "occupation to excite interest or demand attention." "The liability of such persons to melancholy, hysteria, hypochondriasis, and other varieties of mental distress, really depends on a state of irritability of the brain, induced by imperfect exercise." These remarks of a medical man illustrate the principles before indicated; namely, that the demand of Christianity, that we live to promote the general happiness, and not merely for selfish indulgence, has for its aim not only the general good, but the highest happiness of the individual of whom it is required in offering abundant exercise for all the noblest faculties. A person possessed of wealth, who has nothing more noble to engage attention than seeking personal enjoyment, subjects the mental powers and moral feelings to a degree of inactivity utterly at war with health and mind. And the greater the capacities, the greater are the sufferings which result from this cause. Any one who has read the misanthropic wailings of Lord Byron has seen the necessary result of great and noble powers bereft of their appropriate exercise, and, in consequence, becoming sources of the keenest suffering. It is this view of the subject which has often awakened feelings of sorrow and anxiety in the mind of the writer, while aiding in the development and education of superior feminine minds, in the wealthier circles. Not because there are not noble objects for interest and effort, abundant, and within reach of such minds; but because long-established custom has made it seem so quixotic to the majority, even of the professed followers of Christ, for a woman of wealth to practice any great self-denial, that few have independence of mind and Christian principle sufficient to overcome such an influence. The more a mind has its powers developed, the more does it aspire and pine after some object worthy of its energies and affections; and they are commonplace and phlegmatic characters who are most free from such deep-seated wants. Many a young woman, of fine genius and elevated sentiment, finds a charm in Lord Byron's writings, because they present a glowing picture of what, to a certain extent, must be felt by every well-developed mind which has no nobler object in life than the pursuit of self-gratification. If young ladies of wealth could pursue their education under the full conviction that the increase of their powers and advantages increased their obligations to use all for the good of society, and with some plan of benevolent enterprise in view, what new motives of interest would be added to their daily pursuits! And what blessed results would follow to our beloved country, if all well-educated women, carried out the principles of Christianity, in the exercise of their developed powers! The benevolent activities called forth in our late dreadful war illustrate the blessed influence on character and happiness in having a noble object for which to labor and suffer. In illustration of this, may be mentioned the experience of one of the noble women who, in a sickly climate and fervid season, devoted herself to the ministries of a military hospital. Separated from an adored husband, deprived of wonted comforts and luxuries, and toiling in humble and unwonted labors, she yet recalls this as one of the happiest periods of her life. And it was not the mere exercise of benevolence and piety in ministering, comfort and relieving suffering. It was, still more, the elevated enjoyment which only an enlarged and cultivated mind can attain, in the inspirations of grand and far-reaching results purchased by such sacrifice and suffering. It was in aiding to save her well-loved country from impending ruin, and to preserve to coming generations the blessings of true liberty and self-government, that toils and suffering became triumphant joys. Every Christian woman who "walks by faith and not by sight," who looks forward to the results of self-sacrificing labor for the ignorant and sinful as they will enlarge and expand through everlasting ages, may rise to the same elevated sphere of experience and happiness. On the contrary, the more highly cultivated the mind devoted to mere selfish enjoyment, the more are the sources of true happiness closed and the soul left to helpless emptiness and unrest. The indications of a diseased mind, owing to the want of the proper exercise of its powers, are apathy, discontent, a restless longing for excitement, a craving for unattainable good, a diseased and morbid action of the imagination, dissatisfaction with the world, and factitious interest in trifles which the mind feels to be unworthy of its powers. Such minds sometimes seek alleviation in exciting amusements; others resort to the grosser enjoyments of sense. Oppressed with the extremes of languor, or over-excitement, or apathy, the body fails under the wearing process, and adds new causes of suffering to the mind. Such, the compassionate Saviour calls to his service, in the appropriate terms, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me," "and ye shall find rest unto your souls." XXI. THE CARE OF INFANTS. The topic of this chapter may well be prefaced by an extract from Herbert Spencer on the treatment of offspring. He first supposes that some future philosophic speculator, examining the course of education of the present period, should find nothing relating to the training of children, and that his natural inference would be that our schools were all for monastic orders, who have no charge of infancy and childhood. He then remarks, "Is it not an astonishing fact that, though on the treatment of offspring depend their lives or deaths and their moral welfare or ruin, yet not one word of instruction on the treatment of offspring is ever given, to those who will hereafter be parents? Is it not monstrous that the fate of a new generation should be left to the chances of unreasoning custom, or impulse, or fancy, joined with the suggestions of ignorant nurses and the prejudiced counsel of grandmothers? "If a merchant should commence business without any knowledge of arithmetic or book-keeping, we should exclaim at his folly and look for disastrous consequences. Or if, without studying anatomy, a man set up as a surgeon, we should wonder at his audacity and pity his patients. But that parents should commence the difficult work of rearing children without giving any attention to the principles, physical, moral, or intellectual, which ought to guide them, excites neither surprise at the actors nor pity for the victims." "To tens of thousands that are killed add hundreds of thousands that survive with feeble constitutions, and millions not so strong as they should be; and you will have some idea of the curse inflicted on their offspring, by parents ignorant of the laws of life. Do but consider for a moment that the regimen to which children are subject is hourly telling upon them to their life-long injury or benefit, and that there are twenty ways of going wrong to one way of going right, and you will get some idea of the enormous mischief that is almost everywhere inflicted by the thoughtless, hap-hazard system in common use." "When sons and daughters grow up sickly and feeble, parents commonly regard the event as a visitation of Providence. They assume that these evils come without cause, or that the cause is supernatural. Nothing of the kind. In some cases causes are inherited, but in most cases foolish management is the cause. Very generally parents themselves are responsible for this pain, this debility, this depression, this misery. They have undertaken to control the lives of their offspring, and with cruel carelessness have neglected to learn those vital processes which they are daily affecting by their commands and prohibitions. In utter ignorance of the simplest physiological laws, they have been, year by year, undermining the constitutions of their children, and so have inflicted disease and premature death, not only on them but also on their descendants. "Equally great are the ignorance and consequent injury, when we turn from the physical to the moral training. Consider the young, untaught mother and her nursery legislation. A short time ago she was at school, where her memory was crammed with words and names and dates, and her reflective faculties scarcely in the slightest degree exercised--where not one idea was given her respecting the methods of dealing with the opening mind of childhood, and where her discipline did not in the least fit her for thinking out methods of her own. The intervening years have been spent in practicing music, fancy work, novel-reading and party-going, no thought having been given, to the grave responsibilities of maternity, and scarcely any of that solid intellectual culture obtained which would fit her for such responsibilities; and now see her with an unfolding human character committed to her charge, see her profoundly ignorant of the phenomena with which she has to deal, undertaking to do that which can be done but imperfectly even with the aid of the profoundest knowledge!" In view of such considerations, every young lady ought to learn how to take proper care of an infant; for, even if she is never to become the responsible guardian of a nursery, she will often be in situations where she can render benevolent aid to others, in this most fatiguing and anxious duty. The writer has known instances in which young ladies, who had been trained by their mothers properly to perform this duty, were in some cases the means of saving the lives of infants, and in others, of relieving sick mothers from intolerable care and anguish by their benevolent aid. On this point, Dr. Combe remarks, "All women are not destined, in the course of nature, to become mothers; but how very small is the number of those who are unconnected, by family ties, friendship, or sympathy, with the children of others! How very few are there, who, at some time or other of their lives, would not find their usefulness and happiness increased, by the possession of a kind of knowledge intimately allied to their best feelings and affections! And how important is it, to the mother herself, that her efforts should be seconded by intelligent, instead of ignorant assistants!" In order to be prepared for such benevolent ministries, every young lady should improve the opportunity, whenever it is afforded her, for learning how to wash, dress, and tend a young infant; and whenever she meets with such a work as Dr. Combe's, on the management of infants, she ought to read it, and _remember_ its contents. It was the design of the author to fill this chapter chiefly with extracts from various medical writers, giving some of the most important directions on this subject; but finding these extracts too prolix for a work of this kind, she has condensed them into a shorter compass. Some are quoted verbatim, and some are abridged, from the most approved writers on this subject. "Nearly one half of the deaths, Occurring during the first two years of existence, are ascribable to mismanagement, and to errors in diet. At birth, the stomach is feeble, and as yet unaccustomed to food; its cravings are consequently easily satisfied, and frequently renewed." "At that early age, there ought to be no fixed time for giving nourishment. The stomach can not be thus satisfied." "The active call of the infant is a sign, which needs never be mistaken." "But care must be taken to determine between, the crying of pain or uneasiness, and the call for food; and the practice of giving an infant food, to stop its cries, is often the means of increasing its sufferings. After a child has satisfied its hunger, from two to four hours should intervene before another supply is given." "At birth, the stomach and bowels, never having been used, contain a quantity of mucous secretion, which requires to be removed. To effect this, Nature has rendered the first portions of the mother's milk purposely watery and laxative. Nurses, however, distrusting Nature, often hasten to administer some active purgative; and the consequence often is, irritation in the stomach and bowels, not easily subdued." It is only where the child is deprived of its mother's milk, as the first food, that some gentle laxative should be given. "It is a common mistake, to suppose that because a woman is nursing, she ought to live very fully, and to add an allowance of wine, porter, or other fermented liquor, to her usual diet. The only result of this plan is, to cause an unnatural fullness in the system, which places the nurse on the brink of disease, and retards rather than increases the food of the infant. More will be gained by the observance of the ordinary laws of health, than by any foolish deviation, founded on ignorance." There is no point on which medical men so emphatically lift the voice of warning as in reference to administering medicines to infants. It is so difficult to discover what is the matter with an infant, its frame is so delicate and so susceptible, and slight causes have such a powerful influence, that it requires the utmost skill and judgment to ascertain what would be proper medicines, and the proper quantity to be given. Says Dr. Combe, "That there are cases in which active means must be promptly used to save the child, is perfectly true. But it is not less certain that these are cases of which no mother or nurse ought to attempt the treatment. As a general rule, where the child is well managed, medicine, of any kind, is very rarely required; and if disease were more generally regarded in its true light, not as something thrust into the system, which requires to be expelled by force, but as an aberration from a natural mode of action, produced by some external cause, we should be in less haste to attack it by medicine, and more watchful in its prevention. Accordingly, where a constant demand for medicine exists in a nursery, the mother may rest assured that there is something essentially wrong in the treatment of her children." "Much havoc is made among infants, by the abuse of calomel and other medicines, which procure momentary relief but end by producing incurable disease; and it has often excited my astonishment, to see how recklessly remedies of this kind are had recourse to, on the most trifling occasions, by mothers and nurses, who would be horrified if they knew the nature of the power they are wielding, and the extent of injury they are inflicting." Instead, then, of depending on medicine for the preservation of the health and life of an infant, the following precautions and preventives should be adopted. "Take particular care of the _food_ of an infant. If it is nourished by the mother, her own diet should be simple, nourishing, and temperate. If the child be brought up 'by hand,' the milk of a new-milch cow, mixed with one third water, and sweetened a little with _white_ sugar, should be the only food given, until the teeth come. This is more suitable than any preparations of flour or arrowroot, the nourishment of which is too highly concentrated. Never give a child _bread, cake,_ or _meat_, before the teeth appear. If the food appear to distress the child after eating, first ascertain if the milk be really from a new-milch cow, as it may otherwise be too old. Learn, also, whether the cow lives on proper food. Cows that are fed on _still-slops_, as is often the case in cities, furnish milk which is very unhealthful." Be sure and keep a good supply of pure and fresh air in the nursery. On this point, Dr. Bell remarks, respecting rooms constructed without fireplaces and without doors or windows to let in pure air from without, "The sufferings of children of feeble constitutions are increased beyond measure, by such lodgings as these. An action, brought by the commonwealth, ought to lie against those persons who build houses for sale or rent, in which rooms are so constructed as not to allow of free ventilation; and a writ of lunacy taken out against those who, with the commonsense experience which all have on this head, should spend any portion of their time, still more, should sleep, in rooms thus nearly air-tight." After it is a month or two old, take an infant out to walk, or ride, in a little wagon, every fair and warm day; but be very careful that its feet, and every part of its body, are kept warm; and be sure that its eyes are well protected from the light. Weak eyes, and sometimes blindness, are caused by neglecting this precaution. Keep the head of an infant cool, never allowing too warm bonnets, nor permitting it to sink into soft pillows when asleep. Keeping an infant's head too warm very much increases nervous irritability; and this is the reason why medical men forbid the use of caps for infants. But the head of an infant should, especially while sleeping, be protected from draughts of air, and from getting cold. Be very careful of the skin of an infant, as nothing tends so effectually to prevent disease. For this end, it should be washed all over every morning, and then gentle friction should be applied with the hand, to the back, stomach, bowels, and limbs. The head should be thoroughly washed every day, and then brushed with a soft hair-brush, or combed with a fine comb. If, by neglect, dirt accumulates under the hair, apply with the finger the yolk of an egg, and then the fine comb will remove it all, without any trouble. Dress the infant so that it will be always warm, but not so as to cause perspiration. Be sure and keep its feet _always_ warm; and for this often warm them at a fire, and use long dresses. Keep the neck and arms covered. For this purpose, wrappers, open in front, made high in the neck, with long sleeves, to put on over the frock, are now very fashionable. It is better for both mother and child, that it should not sleep on the mother's arm at night, unless the weather be extremely cold. This practice keeps the child too warm, and leads it to seek food too frequently. A child should ordinarily take nourishment but twice in the night. A crib beside the mother, with plenty of warm and light covering, is best for the child; but the mother must be sure that it is always kept warm. Never cover a child's head, so that it will inhale the air of its own lungs. In very warm weather, especially in cities, great pains should be taken to find fresh and cool air by rides and sailing. Walks in a public square in the cool of the morning, and frequent excursions in ferry or steamboats, would often save a long bill for medical attendance. In hot nights, the windows should be kept open, and the infant laid on a mattress, or on folded blankets. A bit of straw matting, laid over a feather bed and covered with the under sheet, makes a very cool bed for an infant. Cool bathing, in hot weather, is very useful; but the water should be very little cooler than the skin of the child. When the constitution is delicate, the water should be slightly warmed. Simply sponging the body freely in a tub, answers the same purpose as a regular bath. In very warm weather, this should be done two or three times a day, always waiting two or three hours after food has been given. "When the stomach is peculiarity irritable, (from teething,) it is of paramount necessity to withhold all the nostrums which have been so falsely lauded as 'sovereign cures for _cholera infantum_.' The true restoratives for a child threatened with disease are cool air, cool bathing, and cool drinks of simple water, in addition to _proper_ food, at stated intervals." In many cases, change of air from sea to mountain, or the reverse, has an immediate healthful influence and is superior to every other treatment. Do not take the advice of mothers who tell of this, that, and the other thing which have proved excellent remedies in their experience. Children have different constitutions, and there are multitudes of different causes for their sickness; and what might cure one child, might kill another, which appeared to have the same complaint. A mother should go on the general rule of giving an infant very little medicine, and then only by the direction of a discreet and experienced physician. And there are cases, when, according to the views of the most distinguished and competent practitioners, physicians themselves are much too free in using medicines, instead of adopting preventive measures. Do not allow a child to form such habits that it will not be quiet unless tended and amused. A healthy child should be accustomed to lie or sit in its cradle much of the time; but it should occasionally be taken up and tossed, or carried about for exercise and amusement. An infant should be encouraged to _creep_, as an exercise very strengthening and useful. If the mother fears the soiling of its nice dresses, she can keep a long slip or apron which will entirely cover the dress, and can be removed when the child is taken in the arms. A child should not be allowed, when quite young, to bear its weight on its feet very long at a time, as this tends to weaken and distort the limbs. Many mothers, with a little painstaking, succeed in putting their infants into their cradle while awake, at regular hours for sleep; and induce regularity in other habits, which saves much trouble. During this training process a child may cry, at first, a great deal; but for a healthy child, this use of the lungs does no harm and tends rather to strengthen than to injure them, unless it becomes exceedingly violent. A child who is trained to lie or sit and amuse itself, is happier than one who is carried and tended a great deal, and thus rendered restless and uneasy when not so indulged. The most critical period in the life of an infant is that of dentition or teething, especially at the early stages. An adult has thirty-two teeth, but young children have only twenty, which gradually loosen and are followed by the permanent teeth. When the child has ten teeth on each jaw, all that are added are the permanent set, which should be carefully preserved; this caution is needful, as sometimes decay in the first double teeth of the second set are supposed to be of the transient set, and are so neglected, or are removed instead of being preserved by plugging. When the first teeth rise so as to press against the gums, there is always more or less inflammation, causing nervous fretfulness, and the impulse to put everything into the mouth. Usually there is disturbed sleep, a slight fever, and greater flow of saliva; this is often relieved by letting the child have ice to bite, tied in a rag. Sometimes the disorder of the mouth extends to the whole system. In difficult teething, one symptom is the jerking back of the head when taking the breath, as if in pain, owing to the extreme soreness of the gums. This is, in extreme cases, attended with increased saliva and a gummy secretion in the corners of the eyes, itching of the nose, redness of cheeks, rash, convulsive twitching of lips and the muscles generally, fever, constipation, and sometimes by a diarrhea, which last is favorable if slight; difficulty of breathing, dilation of the pupils of the eyes, restless motion and moaning; and finally, if not relieved, convulsions and death. The most effective relief is gained by lancing the gums. Every woman, and especially every mother, should know the time and order in which the infant teeth come, and, when any of the above symptoms appear, should examine the mouth, and if a gum is swollen and inflamed, should either have a physician lance it, or if this can not be done, should perform the operation herself. A sharp pen-knife and steady hand making incision to touch the rising tooth will cause no more pain than a simple scratch of the gum, and usually will give speedy relief. The temporary teeth should not be removed until the new ones appear, as it injures the jaw and coming teeth; but as soon as a new tooth is seen pressing upward, the temporary tooth should be removed, or the new tooth will come out of its proper place. If there is not room where the new tooth appears, the next temporary tooth must be taken out. Great mischief has been done by removing the first teeth before the second appear, thus making a contraction of the jaw. Most trouble with, the teeth of young children comes from neglect to use the brush to remove the tartar that accumulates near the gum, causing disease and decay. This disease is sometimes called _scurvy_, and is shown by an accumulation around the teeth and by inflamed gums that bleed easily. Removal of the tartar by a dentist and cleaning the teeth after every meal with a brush will usually cure this evil, which causes loosening of the teeth and a bad breath. Much injury is often done to teeth by using improper tooth-powder. Powdered chalk sifted through muslin is approved by all dentists, and should be used once every day. The tooth-brush should be used after every meal, and floss silk pressed between the teeth to remove food lodged there. This method will usually save the teeth from decay till old age. When an infant seems ill during the period of dentition, the following directions from an experienced physician may be of service. It is now an accepted principle of all the medical world that fevers are to be reduced by cold applications; but an infant demands careful and judicious treatment in this direction; some have extremely sensitive nerves, and cold is painful. For such, tepid sponging should be used near a fire, and the coldness increased gradually. The sensations of the child should be the guide. Usually, but not always, children that are healthy will learn by degrees to prefer cold water, and then it may safely be used. When an infant becomes feverish, wrapping its body in a towel wrung out in warm, or tepid water, and then keeping it warm in a woolen blanket, is a very safe and soothing remedy. In case of constipation, this preparation of food is useful: One table-spoonful of unbolted flour wet with cold water. Add one pint of hot water, and boil twenty minutes. Add when taken up, one pint of milk. If the stomach seems delicate and irritable, strain out the bran, but in most cases, retain it. In case of diarrhea, walk with the child in arms a great deal in the open air, and give it rice-water to drink. The warmth and vital influences of the nurse are very important, and make this mode of exercise both more soothing and more efficacious, especially in the open air, the infant being warmly clad. In case of feverishness from teething or from any other cause, wrap the infant in a towel wrung out in tepid water and then wrap it in a woolen blanket. The water may be cooler according as the child is older and stronger. The evaporation of the water draws off the heat, while the moisture soothes the nerves, and usually the child will fall into a quiet sleep. As soon as it becomes restless, change the wet towel and proceed as before. The leading physicians of Europe and of this country, in all cases of fevers, use water to reduce them, by this and other modes of application. This method is more soothing than any other, and is as effective for adults as for infants. Some of the most distinguished physicians of New-York who have examined this chapter give their full approval of the advice given. If there is still distrust as to this mode of using water to reduce fevers, it will be advantageous to read an address on the use of cold applications in fevers, delivered by Dr. William Neftel, before the New-York Academy of Medicine, published in the _New York Medical Record_ for November, 1868: this can be obtained by inclosing twenty cents to the editor, with the post-office address of the applicant. XXII. THE MANAGEMENT OF YOUNG CHILDREN. In regard to the physical education of children, Dr. Clarke, Physician in Ordinary to the Queen of England, expresses views on one point, in which most physicians would coincide. He says, "There is no greater error in the management of children, than that of giving them animal diet very early. By persevering in the use of an over-stimulating diet the digestive organs become irritated, and the various secretions immediately connected with digestion, and necessary to it, are diminished, especially the _biliary secretion_. Children so fed become very liable to attacks of fever, and inflammation, affecting particularly the mucous membranes; and measles and other diseases incident to childhood, are generally severe in their attacks." The result of the treatment of the inmates of the Orphan Asylum, at Albany, is one which all who have the care of young children should deeply ponder. During the first six years of the existence of this institution, its average number of children was eighty. For the first three years, their diet was meat once a day, fine bread, rice, Indian puddings, vegetables, fruit, and milk. Considerable attention was given to clothing, fresh air, and exercise; and they were bathed once in three weeks. During these three years, from four to six children, and sometimes more, were continually on the sick-list; one or two assistant nurses were necessary; a physician was called two or three times a week; and, in this time, there were between thirty and forty deaths. At the end of this period, the management was changed, in these respects; daily ablutions of the whole body were practiced; bread of unbolted flour was substituted for that of fine wheat; and all animal food was banished. More attention also was paid to clothing, bedding, fresh air, and exercise. The result was, that the nursery was vacated; the nurse and physician were no longer needed; and, for two years, not a single case of sickness or death occurred. The third year also, there were no deaths, except those of two idiots and one other child, all of whom were new inmates, who had not been subjected to this treatment. The teachers of the children also testified there was a manifest increase of intellectual vigor and activity, while there was much less irritability of temper. Let parents, nurses, and teachers reflect on the above statement, and bear in mind that stupidity of intellect, and irritability of temper, as well as ill-health, are often caused by the mismanagement of the nursery in regard to the physical training of children. There is probably no practice more deleterious, than that of allowing children to eat at short intervals, through, the day. As the stomach is thus kept constantly at work, with no time for repose, its functions are deranged, and a weak or disordered stomach is the frequent result. Children should be required to keep cakes, nuts, and other good things, which should be sparingly given, till just before a meal, and then they will form a part of their regular supply. This is better than to wait till after their hunger is satisfied by food, when they will eat the niceties merely to gratify the palate, and thus overload the stomach and interrupt digestion. In regard to the intellectual training of young children, some modification in the common practice is necessary, with reference to their physical well-being. More care is needful, in providing _well-ventilated_ school-rooms, and in securing more time for sports in the open air, during school hours. It is very important to most mothers that their young children should be removed from their care during certain school hours; and it is very useful for quite young children, to be subjected to the discipline of a school, and to intercourse with other children of their own age. And, with a suitable teacher, it is no matter how early children are sent to school, provided their health is not endangered by impure air, too much confinement, and too great mental stimulus, which is the chief danger of the present age. In regard to the formation of the moral character, it has been too much the case that the discipline of the nursery has consisted of disconnected efforts to make children either do, or refrain from doing, certain particular acts. Do this, and be rewarded; do that, and be punished; is the ordinary routine of family government. But children can be very early taught that their happyness, both now and hereafter, depends on the formation of _habits_ of submission, self-denial, and benevolence. And all the discipline of the nursery can be conducted by parents, not only with this general aim in their own minds, but also with the same object daily set before the minds of the children. Whenever their wishes are crossed, or their wills subdued, they can be taught that all this is done, not merely to please the parent, or to secure some good to themselves or to others; but as a part of that merciful training which is designed to form such a character, and such habits, that they can hereafter find their chief happiness in giving up their will to God, and in living to do good to others, instead of living merely to please themselves. It can be pointed out to them, that they must always submit their will to the will of God, or else be continually miserable. It can be shown how, in the nursery, and in the school, and through all future days, a child must practice the giving up of his will and wishes, when they interfere with the rights and comfort of others; and how important it is, early to learn to do this, so that it will, by habit, become easy and agreeable. It can be shown how children who are indulged in all their wishes, and who are never accustomed to any self-denial, always find it hard to refrain from what injures themselves and others. It can be shown, also, how important it is for every person to form such habits of benevolence toward others that self-denial in doing good will become easy. Parents have learned, by experience, that children can be constrained by authority and penalties to exercise self-denial, for _their own_ good, till a habit is formed which makes the duty comparatively easy. For example, well trained children can be accustomed to deny themselves tempting articles of food, which are injurious, until the practice ceases to be painful and difficult. Whereas, an indulged child would be thrown into fits of anger or discontent, when its wishes were crossed by restraints of this kind. But it has not been so readily discerned, that the same method is needful in order to form a habit of self-denial in doing good to others. It has been supposed that while children must be forced, by _authority_, to be self-denying and prudent in regard to their own happiness, it may properly be left to their own discretion, whether they will practice any self-denial in doing good to others. But the more difficult a duty is, the greater is the need of parental authority in forming a habit which will make that duty easy. In order to secure this, some parents turn their earliest efforts to this object. They require the young child always to offer to others a part of every thing which it receives; always to comply with all reasonable requests of others for service; and often to practice little acts of self-denial, in order to secure some enjoyment for others. If one child receives a present of some nicety, he is required to share it with all his brothers and sisters. If one asks his brother to help him in some study or sport, and is met with a denial, the parent requires the unwilling child to act benevolently, and give up some of his time to increase his brother's enjoyment. Of course, in such an effort as this, discretion must be used as to the frequency and extent of the exercise of authority, to induce a habit of benevolence. But where parents deliberately aim at such an object, and wisely conduct their instructions and discipline to secure it, very much will be accomplished. In regard to forming habits of obedience, there have been two extremes, both of which need to be shunned. One is, a stern and unsympathizing maintenance of parental authority, demanding perfect and constant obedience, without any attempt to convince a child of the propriety and benevolence of the requisitions, and without any manifestation of sympathy and tenderness for the pain and difficulties which are to be met. Under such discipline, children grow up to fear their parents, rather than to love and trust them; while some of the most valuable principles of character are chilled, or forever blasted. In shunning this danger, other parents pass to the opposite extreme. They put themselves too much on the footing of equals with their children, as if little were due to superiority of relation, age, and experience. Nothing is exacted, without the implied concession that the child is to be a judge of the propriety of the requisition; and reason and persuasion are employed, where simple command and obedience would be far better. This system produces a most pernicious influence. Children soon perceive the position thus allowed them, and take every advantage of it. They soon learn to dispute parental requirements, acquire habits of forwardness and conceit, assume disrespectful manners and address, maintain their views with pertinacity, and yield to authority with ill-humor and resentment, as if their rights were infringed upon. The medium course is for the parent to take the attitude of a superior in age, knowledge, and relation, who has a perfect _right_ to control every action of the child, and that, too, without giving any reason for the requisitions. "Obey _because your parent commands_," is always a proper and sufficient reason: though not always the best to give. But care should be taken to convince the child that the parent is conducting a course of discipline, designed to make him happy; and in forming habits of implicit obedience, self-denial, and benevolence, the child should have the reasons for most requisitions kindly stated; never, however, on the demand of it from the child, as a right, but as an act of kindness from the parent. It is impossible to govern children properly, especially those of strong and sensitive feelings, without a constant effort to appreciate the value which they attach to their enjoyments and pursuits. A lady of great strength of mind and sensibility once told the writer that one of the most acute periods of suffering in her whole life was occasioned by the burning up of some milkweed-silk, by her mother. The child had found, for the first time, some of this shining and beautiful substance; was filled with delight at her discovery; was arranging it in parcels; planning its future use, and her pleasure in showing it to her companions--when her mother, finding it strewed over the carpet, hastily swept it into the fire, and that, too, with so indifferent an air, that the child fled away, almost distracted with grief and disappointment. The mother little realized the pain she had inflicted, but the child felt the unkindness so severely that for several days her mother was an object, almost of aversion. While, therefore, the parent needs to carry on a steady course, which will oblige the child always to give up its will, whenever its own good or the greater claims of others require it, this should be constantly connected with the expression of a tender sympathy for the trials and disappointments thus inflicted. Those, again, who will join with children and help them in their sports, will learn by this mode to understand the feelings and interests of childhood; while at the same time, they secure a degree of confidence and affection which can not be gained so easily in any other way. And it is to be regretted that parents so often relinquish this most powerful mode of influence to domestics and playmates, who often use it in the most pernicious manner. In joining in such sports, older persons should never yield entirely the attitude of superiors, or allow disrespectful manners or address. And respectful deportment is never more cheerfully accorded, than in seasons when young hearts are pleased and made grateful by having their tastes and enjoyments so efficiently promoted. Next to the want of all government, the two most fruitful sources of evil to children are, _unsteadiness_ in government and _over- government_. Most of the cases in which the children of sensible and conscientious parents turn out badly, result from one or the other of these causes. In cases of unsteady government, either one parent is very strict, severe and unbending, and the other excessively indulgent, or else the parents are sometimes very strict and decided, and at other times allow disobedience to go unpunished. In such cases, children, never knowing exactly when they can escape with impunity, are constantly tempted to make the trial. The bad effects of this can be better appreciated by reference to one important principle of the mind. It is found to be universally true, that, when any object of desire is put entirely beyond the reach of hope or expectation, the mind very soon ceases to long for it, and turns to other objects of pursuit. But so long as the mind is hoping for some good, and making efforts to obtain it, any opposition excites irritable feelings. Let the object be put entirely beyond all hope, and this irritation soon ceases. In consequence of this principle, those children who are under the care of persons of steady and decided government know that whenever a thing is forbidden or denied, it is out of the reach of hope; the desire, therefore, soon ceases, and they turn to other objects. But the children of undecided, or of over-indulgent parents, never enjoy this preserving aid. When a thing is denied, they never know hut either coaxing may win it, or disobedience secure it without any penalty, and so they are kept in that state of hope and anxiety which produces irritation and tempts to insubordination. The children of very indulgent parents, and of those who are undecided and unsteady in government, are very apt to become fretful, irritable, and fractious. Another class of persons, in shunning this evil, go to the other extreme, and are very strict and pertinacious in regard to every requisition. With them, fault-finding and penalties abound, until the children are either hardened into indifference of feeling, and obtuseness of conscience, or else become excessively irritable or misanthropic. It demands great wisdom, patience, and self-control, to escape these two extremes. In aiming at this, there are parents who have found the following maxims of very great value: First: Avoid, as much as possible, the multiplication of rules and absolute commands. Instead of this, take the attitude of advisers. "My child, this is improper, I wish you would remember not to do it." This mode of address answers for all the little acts of heedlessness, awkwardness, or ill-manners so frequently occurring with children. There are cases, when direct and distinct commands are needful; and in such cases, a penalty for disobedience should be as steady and sure as the laws of nature. Where such steadiness and certainty of penalty attend disobedience, children no more think of disobeying than they do of putting their fingers into a burning candle. The next maxim is, Govern by rewards more than by penalties. Such faults as willful disobedience, lying, dishonesty, and indecent or profane language, should be punished with severe penalties, after a child has been fully instructed in the evil of such practices. But all the constantly recurring faults of the nursery, such as ill-humor, quarreling, carelessness, and ill-manners, may, in a great many cases, be regulated by gentle and kind remonstrances, and by the offer of some reward for persevering efforts to form a good habit. It is very injurious and degrading to any mind to be kept under the constant fear of penalties. _Love_ and _hope_ are the principles that should be mainly relied on, in forming the habits of childhood. Another maxim, and perhaps the most difficult, is, Do not govern by the aid of severe and angry tones. A single example will be given to illustrate this maxim. A child is disposed to talk and amuse itself at table. The mother requests it to be silent, except when needing to ask for food, or when spoken to by its older friends. It constantly forgets. The mother, instead of rebuking in an impatient tone, says, "My child, you must remember not to talk. I will remind you of it four times more, and after that, whenever you forget, you must leave the table and wait till we are done." If the mother is steady in her government, it is not probable that she will have to apply this slight penalty more than once or twice. This method is far more effectual than the use of sharp and severe tones, to secure attention and recollection, and often answers the purpose as well as offering some reward. The writer has been in some families where the most efficient and steady government has been sustained without the use of a cross or angry tone; and in others, where a far less efficient discipline was kept up, by frequent severe rebukes and angry remonstrances. In the first case, the children followed the example set them, and seldom used severe tones to each other; in the latter, the method employed by the parents was imitated by the children, and cross words and angry tones resounded from morning till night, in every portion of the household. Another important maxim is, Try to keep children in a happy state of mind. Every one knows, by experience, that it is easier to do right and submit to rule when cheerful and happy, than when irritated. This is peculiarly true of children; and a wise mother, when she finds her child fretful and impatient, and thus constantly doing wrong, will often remedy the whole difficulty, by telling some amusing story, or by getting the child engaged in some amusing sport. This strongly shows the importance of learning to govern children without the employment of angry tones, which always produce irritation. Children of active, heedless temperament, or those who are odd, awkward, or unsuitable in their remarks and deportment, are often essentially injured by a want of patience and self-control in those who govern them. Such children often possess a morbid sensibility which they strive to conceal, or a desire of love and approbation, which preys like a famine on the soul. And yet, they become objects of ridicule and rebuke to almost every member of the family, until their sensibilities are tortured into obtuseness or misanthropy. Such children, above all others, need tenderness and sympathy. A thousand instances of mistake or forgetfulness should be passed over in silence, while opportunities for commendation and encouragement should be diligently sought. In regard to the formation of habits of self-denial in childhood, it is astonishing to see how parents who are very sensible often seem to regard this matter. Instead of inuring their children to this duty in early life, so that by habit it may be made easy in after-days, they seem to be studiously seeking to cut them off from every chance to secure such a preparation. Every wish of the child is studiously gratified; and, where a necessity exists of crossing its wishes, some compensating pleasure is offered, in return. Such parents often maintain that nothing shall be put on their table, which their children may not join them in eating. But where, so easily and surely as at the daily meal, can that habit of self-denial be formed, which is so needful in governing the appetites, and which children must acquire, or be ruined? The food which is proper for grown persons, is often unsuitable for children; and this is a sufficient reason for accustoming them to see others partake of delicacies, which they must not share. Requiring children, to wait till others are helped, and to refrain from, conversation at table, except when addressed by their elders, is another mode of forming habits of self-denial and self-control. Requiring them to help others first, and to offer the best to others, has a similar influence. In forming the moral habits of children, it is wise to take into account the peculiar temptations to which they are to be exposed. The people of this nation are eminently a trafficking people; and the present standard of honesty, as to trade and debts, is very low, and every year seems sinking still lower. It is, therefore, preeminently important, that children should be trained to strict _honesty_, both in word and deed. It is not merely teaching children to avoid absolute lying, which is needed: _all kinds of deceit_ should be guarded against; and all kinds of little dishonest practices be strenuously opposed. A child should be brought up with the determined principle, never to _run in debt_, but to be content to live in a humbler way, in order to secure that true independence, which should be the noblest distinction of an American citizen. There is no more important duty devolving upon a mother, than the cultivation of habits of modesty and propriety in young children. All indecorous words or deportment should be carefully restrained; and delicacy and reserve studiously cherished. It is a common notion, that it is important to secure these virtues to one sex, more than to the other; and, by a strange inconsistency, the sex most exposed to danger is the one selected as least needing care. Yet a wise mother will be especially careful that her sons are trained to modesty and purity of mind. Yet few mothers are sufficiently aware of the dreadful penalties which often result from indulged impurity of thought. If children, in _future_ life, can be preserved from licentious associates, it is supposed that their safety is secured. But the records of our insane retreats, and the pages of medical writers, teach that even in solitude, and without being aware of the sin or the danger, children may inflict evils on themselves, which not unfrequently terminate in disease, delirium, and death. There is no necessity for explanations on this point any farther than this; that certain parts of the body are not to be touched except for purposes of cleanliness, and that the most dreadful suffering comes from disobeying these commands. So in regard to practices and sins of which a young child will sometimes inquire, the wise parent will say, that this is what children can not understand, and about which they must not talk or ask questions. And they should be told that it is always a bad sign, when children talk on matters which parents call vulgar and indecent, and that the company of such children should be avoided. Disclosing details of wrong-doing to young and curious children, often leads to the very evils feared. But parents and teachers, in this age of danger, should be well informed and watchful; for it is not unfrequently the case, that servants and school-mates will teach young children practices, which exhaust the nervous system and bring on paralysis, mania, and death. And finally, in regard to the early religious training of children, the examples of the Creator in the early training of our race may safely be imitated. That "He is, and is a rewarder"--that he is everywhere present--that he is a tender Father in heaven, who is grieved when any of his children do wrong, yet ever ready to forgive those who are striving to please him by well-doing, these are the most effective motives to save the young from the paths of danger and sin. The rewards and penalties of the life to come are better adapted to maturer age, than to the imperfect and often false and fearful conceptions of the childish mind. XXIII. DOMESTIC AMUSEMENTS AND SOCIAL DUTIES. Whenever the laws of body and mind are properly understood, it will be allowed that every person needs some kind of recreation; and that, by seeking it, the body is strengthened, the mind is invigorated, and all our duties are more cheerfully and successfully performed. Children, whose bodies are rapidly growing and whose nervous system is tender and excitable, need much more amusement than persons of mature age. Persons, also, who are oppressed with great responsibilities and duties, or who are taxed by great intellectual or moral excitement, need recreations which physically exercise and draw off the mind from absorbing interests. Unfortunately, such persons are those who least resort to amusements, while the idle, gay, and thoughtless seek those which are not needed, and for which useful occupation would be a most beneficial substitute. As the only legitimate object of amusement is to prepare mind and body for the proper discharge of duty, the protracting of such as interfere with regular employments, or induce excessive fatigue, or weary the mind, or invade the proper hours for repose, must be sinful. In deciding what should be selected, and what avoided, the following are guiding principles. In the first place, no amusements which inflict needless pain should ever be allowed. All tricks which cause fright or vexation, and all sports which involve suffering to animals, should be utterly forbidden. Hunting and fishing, for mere sport, can never be justified. If a man can convince his children that he follows these pursuits to gain food or health, and not for amusement, his example may not be very injurious. But when children see grown persons kill and frighten animals, for sport, habits of cruelty, rather than feelings of tenderness and benevolence, are cultivated. In the next place, we should seek no recreations which endanger life, or interfere with important duties. As the legitimate object of amusements is to promote health and prepare for some serious duties, selecting those which have a directly opposite tendency, can not be justified. Of course, if a person feels that the previous day's diversion has shortened the hours of needful repose, or induced a lassitude of mind or body, instead of invigorating them, it is certain that an evil has been done which should never be repeated. Another rule which has been extensively adopted in the religious world is, to avoid those amusements which experience has shown to be so exciting, and connected with so many temptations, as to be pernicious in tendency, both to the individual and to the community. It is on this ground, that horse-racing and circus-riding have been excluded. Not because there is any thing positively wrong in having men and horses run and perform feats of agility, or in persons looking on for the diversion: but because experience has shown so many evils connected with these recreations, that they should be relinquished. So with theatres. The enacting of characters and the amusement thus afforded in themselves may be harmless; and possibly, in certain cases, might be useful: but experience has shown so many evils to result from this source, that it has been deemed wrong to patronize it. So, also, with those exciting games of chance which are employed in gambling. Under the same head comes dancing, in the estimation of the great majority of the religious world. Still, there are many intelligent, excellent, and conscientious persons who hold a contrary opinion. Such maintain that it is an innocent and healthful amusement, tending to promote ease of manners, cheerfulness, social affection, and health of mind and body; that evils are involved only in its excess; that like food, study, or religions excitement, it is only wrong when not properly regulated; and that, if serious and intelligent people would strive to regulate, rather than banish, this amusement, much more good would be secured. On the other side, it is objected, not that dancing is a sin, in itself considered, for it was once a part of sacred worship; not that it would be objectionable, if it were properly regulated; not that it does not tend, when used in a proper manner, to health of body and mind, to grace of manners; and to social enjoyment: all these things are conceded. But it is objected to, on the same ground as horse-racing and theatrical entertainments; that we are to look at amusements as they are, and not as they might be. Horse-races might be so managed as not to involve cruelty, gambling, drunkenness, and other vices. And so might theatres. And if serious and intelligent persons undertook to patronize these, in order to regulate them, perhaps they would be somewhat raised from the depths to which they have sunk. But such persons believe that, with the weak sense of moral obligation existing in the mass of society, and the imperfect ideas mankind have of the proper use of amusements, and the little self-control which men or women or children practice, these will not, in fact, be thus regulated. And they believe dancing to be liable to the same objections. As this recreation is actually conducted, it does not tend to produce health of body or mind, but directly the contrary. If young and old went out to dance together in open air, as the French peasants do, it would be a very different sort of amusement from that which often is witnessed in a room furnished with many lights and filled with guests, both expending the healthful part of the atmosphere, where the young collect, in their tightest dresses, to protract for several hours a kind of physical exertion which is not habitual to them. During this process, the blood is made to circulate more swiftly than usual, in circumstances where it is less perfectly oxygenized than health requires; the pores of the skin are excited by heat and exercise; the stomach is loaded with indigestible articles, and the quiet, needful to digestion, withheld; the diversion is protracted beyond the usual hour for repose; and then, when the skin is made the most highly susceptible to damps and miasms, the company pass from a warm room to the cold night-air. It is probable that no single amusement can be pointed out combining so many injurious particulars as this, which is so often defended as a healthful one. Even if parents, who train their children to dance, can keep them from public balls, (which is seldom the case,) dancing, as ordinarily conducted in private parlors, in most cases is subject to nearly all the same mischievous influences. The spirit of Christ is that of self-denying benevolence; and his great aim, by his teachings and example, was to train his followers to avoid all that should lead to sin, especially in regard to the weaker ones of his family. Yet he made wine at a wedding, attended a social feast on the Sabbath, [Footnote: Luke xiv. In reading this passage, please notice what kind of guests are to be invited to the feast that Jesus Christ recommends.] reproved excess of strictness in Sabbath-keeping generally, and forbade no safe and innocent enjoyment. In following his example, the rulers of the family, then, will introduce the most highly exciting amusements only in circumstances where there are such strong principles and habits of self-control that the enjoyment will not involve sin in the actor or needless temptation to the weak. The course pursued by our Puritan ancestors, in the period succeeding their first perils amid sickness and savages, is an example that may safely be practiced at the present day. The young of both sexes were educated in the higher branches, in country academies, and very often the closing exercises were theatricals, in which the pupils were performers and their pastors, elders, and parents, the audience. So, at social gatherings, the dance was introduced before minister and wife, with smiling approval. The roaring fires and broad chimneys provided pure air, and the nine o'clock bell ended the festivities that gave new vigor and zest to life, while the dawn of the next day's light saw all at their posts of duty, with heartier strength and blither spirits. No indecent or unhealthful costumes offended the eye, no half-naked dancers of dubious morality were sustained in a life of dangerous excitement, by the money of Christian people, for the mere amusement of their night hours. No shivering drivers were deprived of comfort and sleep, to carry home the midnight followers of fashion; nor was the quiet and comfort of servants in hundreds of dwellings invaded for the mere amusement of their superiors in education and advantages. The command "we that are strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves," was in those days not reversed. Had the drama and the dance continued to be regulated by the rules of temperance, health, and Christian benevolence, as in the days of our forefathers, they would not have been so generally banished from the religious world. And the question is now being discussed, whether they can be so regulated at the present time as not to violate the laws, either of health or benevolence. [Footnote: Fanny Kemble Butler remarked to the present writer that she regarded theatres wrong, chiefly because of the injury involved to the actors. Can a Christian mother contribute money to support young women in a profession from which she would protect her own daughter, as from degradation, and that, too, simply for the amusement of herself and family? Would this be following the self-sacrificing benevolence of Christ and his apostles?] In regard to home amusements, card-playing is now indulged in, in many conscientious families from which it formerly was excluded, and for these reasons: it is claimed that this is a quiet home amusement, which unites pleasantly the aged with the young; that it is not now employed in respectable society for gambling, as it formerly was; that to some young minds it is a peculiarly fascinating game, and should be first practiced under the parental care, till the excitement of novelty is past, thus rendering the danger to children less, when going into the world; and, finally, that habits of self-control in exciting circumstances may and should be thus cultivated in the safety of home. Many parents who have taken this course with their sons in early life, believe that it has proved rather a course of safety than of danger. Still, as there is great diversity of opinion, among persons of equal worth and intelligence, a mutual spirit of candor and courtesy should be practiced. The sneer at bigotry and narrowness of views, on one side, and the uncharitable implication of want of piety, or sense, on the other, are equally ill-bred and unchristian. Truth on this subject is best promoted, not by ill-natured crimination and rebuke, but by calm reason, generous candor, forbearance, and kindness. There is another species of amusement, which a large portion of the religious world formerly put under the same condemnation as the preceding. This is novel-reading. The confusion and difference of opinion on this subject have arisen from a want of clear and definite distinctions. Now, as it is impossible to define what are novels and what are not, so as to include one class of fictitious writings and exclude every other, it is impossible to lay down any rule respecting them. The discussion, in fact, turns on the use of those works of imagination which belong to the class of fictitious narratives. That this species of reading is not only lawful but necessary and useful, is settled by divine examples, in the parables and allegories of Scripture. Of course, the question must be, what kind of fabulous writings must be avoided, and what allowed. In deciding this, no specific rules can be given; but it must be a matter to be regulated by the nature and circumstances of each case. No works of fiction which tend to throw the allurements of taste and genius around vice and crime should ever be tolerated; and all that tend to give false views of life and duty should also be banished. Of those which are written for mere amusement, presenting scenes and events that are interesting and exciting and having no bad moral influence, much must depend on the character and circumstances of the reader. Some minds are torpid and phlegmatic, and need to have the imagination stimulated: such would be benefited by this kind of reading. Others have quick and active imaginations, and would be as much injured by excess. Some persons are often so engaged in absorbing interests, that any thing innocent, which will for a short time draw off the mind, is of the nature of a medicine; and, in such cases, this kind of reading is useful. There is need, also, that some men should keep a supervision of the current literature of the day, as guardians, to warn others of danger. For this purpose, it is more suitable for editors, clergymen, and teachers to read indiscriminately, than for any other class of persons; for they are the guardians of the public weal in matters of literature, and should be prepared to advise parents and young persons of the evils in one direction and the good in another. In doing this, however, they are bound to go on the same principles which regulate physicians, when they visit infected districts--using every precaution to prevent injury to themselves; having as little to do with pernicious exposures, as a benevolent regard to others will allow; and faithfully employing all the knowledge and opportunities thus gained for warning and preserving others. There is much danger, in taking this course, that men will seek the excitement of the imagination for the mere pleasure it affords, under the plea of preparing to serve the public, when this is neither the aim nor the result. In regard to the use of such works by the young, as a general rule, they ought not to be allowed, to any except those of a dull and phlegmatic temperament, until the solid parts of education are secured and a taste for more elevated reading is acquired. If these stimulating condiments in literature be freely used in youth, all relish for more solid reading will in a majority of cases be destroyed. If parents succeed in securing habits of cheerful and implicit obedience, it will be very easy to regulate this matter, by prohibiting the reading of any story-book, until the consent of the parent is obtained. The most successful mode of forming a taste for suitable reading, is for parents to select interesting works of history and travels, with maps and pictures suited to the age and attainments of the young, and spend an hour or two each day or evening, in aiming to make truth as interesting as fiction. Whoever has once tried this method will find that the uninjured mind of childhood is better satisfied with what they know is true, when wisely presented, than with the most exciting novels, which they know are false. Perhaps there has been some just ground of objection to the course often pursued by parents in neglecting to provide suitable and agreeable substitutes for the amusements denied. But there is a great abundance of safe, healthful, and delightful recreations, which all parents may secure for their children. Some of these will here be pointed out. One of the most useful and important, is the cultivation of flowers and fruits. This, especially for the daughters of a family, is greatly promotive of health and amusement. It is with the hope that many young ladies, whose habits are now so formed that they can never be induced to a course of active domestic exercise so long as their parents are able to hire domestic service, may yet be led to an employment which will tend to secure health and vigor of constitution, that much space will be given in the second volume of this work, to directions for the cultivation of fruits and flowers. It would be a most desirable improvement, if all schools for young women could be furnished with suitable grounds and instruments for the cultivation of fruits and flowers, and every inducement offered to engage the pupils in this pursuit. No father, who wishes to have his daughters grow up to be healthful women, can take a surer method to secure this end. Let him set apart a portion of his ground for fruits and flowers, and see that the soil is well prepared and dug over, and all the rest may be committed to the care of the children. These would need to be provided with a light hoe and rake, a dibble or garden trowel, a watering-pot, and means and opportunities for securing seeds, roots, bulbs, buds, and grafts, all which might be done at a trifling expense. Then, with proper encouragement and by the aid of a few intelligible and practical directions, every man who has even half an acre could secure a small Eden around his premises. In pursuing this amusement children can also be led to acquire many useful habits. Early rising would, in many cases, be thus secured; and if they were required to keep their walks and borders free from weeds and rubbish, habits of order and neatness would be induced. Benevolent and social feelings could also be cultivated, by influencing children to share their fruits and flowers with friends and neighbors, as well as to distribute roots and seeds to those who have not the means of procuring them. A woman or a child, by giving seeds or slips or roots to a washerwoman, or a farmer's boy, thus inciting them to love and cultivate fruits and flowers, awakens a new and refining source of enjoyment in minds which have few resources more elevated than mere physical enjoyments. Our Saviour directs us in making feasts, to call, not the rich who can recompense again, but the poor who can make no returns. So children should be taught to dispense their little treasures not alone to companions and friends, who will probably return similar favors; but to those who have no means of making any return. If the rich, who acquire a love for the enjoyments of taste and have the means to gratify it, would aim to extend among the poor the cheap and simple enjoyment of fruits and flowers, our country would soon literally "blossom as the rose." If the ladies of a neighborhood would unite small contributions, and send a list of flower-seeds and roots to some respectable and honest florist, who would not be likely to turn them off with trash, they could divide these among themselves and their poor neighbors, so as to secure an abundant variety at a very small expense. A bag of flower-seeds, which can be obtained at wholesale for four cents, would abundantly supply a whole neighborhood; and by the gathering of seeds in the autumn, could be perpetuated. Another very elevating and delightful recreation for the young is found in _music_. Here the writer would protest against the practice common in many families, of having the daughters learn to play on the piano whether they have a taste and an ear for music, or not. A young lady who does not sing well, and has no great fondness for music, does nothing but waste time, money, and patience in learning to play on the piano. But all children can be taught to sing in early childhood, if the scientific mode of teaching music in schools could be more widely introduced, as it is in Prussia, Germany, and Switzerland. Then young children could read and sing music as easily as they can read language; and might take any tune, dividing themselves into bands, and sing off at sight the endless variety of music which is prepared. And if parents of wealth would take pains to have teachers qualified for the purpose, who should teach all the young children in the community, much would be done for the happiness and elevation of the rising generation. This is an element of education which we are glad to know is, year by year, more extensively and carefully cultivated; and it is not only a means of culture, but also an amusement, which children relish in the highest degree; and which they can enjoy at home, in the fields, and in visits abroad. Another domestic amusement is the collecting of shells, plants, and specimens in geology and mineralogy, for the formation of cabinets. If intelligent parents would procure the simpler works which have been prepared for the young, and study them with their children, a taste for such recreations would soon be developed. The writer has seen young boys, of eight and ten years of age, gathering and cleaning shells from rivers, and collecting plants and mineralogical specimens, with a delight bordering on ecstasy; and there are few, if any, who by proper influences would not find this a source of ceaseless delight and improvement. Another resource for family diversion is to be found in the various games played by children, and in which the joining of older members of the family is always a great advantage to both parties, especially those in the open air. All medical men unite in declaring that nothing is more beneficial to health than hearty laughter; and surely our benevolent Creator would not have provided risibles, and made it a source of health and enjoyment to use them, if it were a sin so to do. There has been a tendency to asceticism, on this subject, which needs to be removed. Such commands as forbid _foolish_ laughing and jesting, "_which are not convenient_" and which forbid all idle words and vain conversation, can not apply to any thing except what is foolish, vain, and useless. But jokes, laughter, and sports, when used in such a degree as tends only to promote health and happiness, are neither vain, foolish, nor "not convenient." It is the excess of these things, and not the moderate use of them, which Scripture forbids. The prevailing temper of the mind should be serious, yet cheerful; and there are times when relaxation and laughter are not only proper but necessary and right for all. There is nothing better for this end than that parents and older persons should join in the sports of childhood. Mature minds can always make such diversions more entertaining to children, and can exert a healthful moral influence over their minds; and at the same time can gain exercise and amusement for themselves. How lamentable that so many fathers, who could be thus useful and happy with their children, throw away such opportunities, and wear out soul and body in the pursuit of gain or fame! Another resource for children is the exercise of mechanical skill. Fathers, by providing tools for their boys, and showing them how to make wheelbarrows, carts, sleds, and various other articles, contribute both to the physical, moral, and social improvement of their children. And in regard to little daughters, much more can be done in this way than many would imagine. The writer, blessed with the example of a most ingenious and industrious mother, had not only learned before the age of twelve to make dolls, of various sorts and sizes, but to cut and fit and sew every article that belongs to a doll's wardrobe. This, which was done by the child for mere amusement, secured such a facility in mechanical pursuits, that, ever afterward, the cutting and fitting of any article of dress, for either sex, was accomplished with entire ease. When a little girl begins to sew, her mother can promise her a small bed and pillow, as soon as she has sewed a patch quilt for them; and then a bedstead, as soon as she has sewed the sheets and cases for pillows; and then a large doll to dress, as soon as she has made the undergarments; and thus go on till the whole contents of the baby-house are earned by the needle and skill of its little owner. Thus the task of learning to sew will become a pleasure; and every new toy will be earned by useful exertion. A little girl can be taught, by the aid of patterns prepared for the purpose, to cut and fit all articles necessary for her doll. She can also be provided with a little wash-tub and irons and thus keep in proper order a complete miniature domestic establishment. Besides these recreations, there are the enjoyments secured in walking, riding, visiting, and many other employments which need not be recounted. Children, if trained to be healthful and industrious, will never fail to discover resources of amusement; while their guardians should lend their aid to guide and restrain them from excess. There is need of a very great change of opinion and practice in this nation in regard to the subject of social and domestic duties. Many sensible and conscientious men spend all their time abroad in business; except perhaps an hour or so at night, when they are so fatigued as to be unfitted for any social or intellectual enjoyment. And some of the most conscientious men in the country will add to their professional business public or benevolent enterprises, which demand time, effort, and money; and then excuse themselves for neglecting all care of their children, and efforts for their own intellectual improvement, or for the improvement of their families, by the plea that they have no time for it. All this arises from the want of correct notions of the binding obligation of our social and domestic duties. The main object of life is not to secure the various gratifications of appetite or taste, but to form such a character, for ourselves and others, as will secure the greatest amount of present and future happiness. It is of far more consequence, then, that parents should be intelligent, social, affectionate, and agreeable at home and to their friends, than that they should earn money enough to live in a large house and have handsome furniture. It is far more needful for children that a father should attend to the formation of their character and habits, and aid in developing their social, intellectual, and moral nature, than it is that he should earn money to furnish them with handsome clothes and a variety of tempting food. It will be wise for those parents who find little time to attend to their children, or to seek amusement and enjoyment in the domestic and social circle, because their time is so much occupied with public cares or benevolent objects, to inquire whether their first duty is not to train up their own families to be useful members of society. A man who neglects the mind and morals of his children, to take care of the public, is in great danger of coming under a similar condemnation to that of him who, neglecting to provide for his own household, has "denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." There are husbands and fathers who conscientiously subtract time from their business to spend at home, in reading with their wives and children, and in domestic amusements which at once refresh and improve. The children of such parents will grow up with a love of home and kindred which will be the greatest safeguard against future temptations, as well as the purest source of earthly enjoyment. There are families, also, who make it a definite object to keep up family attachments, after the children are scattered abroad; and, in some cases, secure the means for doing this by saving money which would otherwise have been spent for superfluities of food or dress. Some families have adopted, for this end, a practice which, if widely imitated, would be productive of much enjoyment. The method is this: On the first day of each month, some member of the family, at each extreme point of dispersion, takes a folio sheet, and fills a part of a page. This is sealed and mailed to the next family, who read it, add another contribution, and then mail it to the next. Thus the family circular, once a month, goes from each extreme to all the members of a widely-dispersed family, and each member becomes a sharer in the joys, sorrows, plans, and pursuits of all the rest. At the same time, frequent family meetings are sought; and the expense thus incurred is cheerfully met by retrenchments in other directions. The sacrifice of some unnecessary physical indulgence will often purchase many social and domestic enjoyments, a thousand times more elevating and delightful than the retrenched luxury. There is no social duty which the Supreme Law-giver more strenuously urges than hospitality and kindness to strangers, who are classed with the widow and the fatherless as the special objects of Divine tenderness. There are some reasons why this duty peculiarly demands attention from the American people. Reverses of fortune, in this land, are so frequent and unexpected, and the habits of the people are so migratory, that there are very many in every part of the country who, having seen all their temporal plans and hopes crushed, are now pining among strangers, bereft of wonted comforts, without friends, and without the sympathy and society so needful to wounded spirits. Such, too frequently, sojourn long and lonely, with no comforter but Him who "knoweth the heart of a stranger." Whenever, therefore, new-comers enter a community, inquiry should immediately be made as to whether they have friends or associates, to render sympathy and kind attentions; and, when there is any need for it, the ministries of kind neighborliness should immediately be offered. And it should be remembered that the first days of a stranger's sojourn are the most dreary, and that civility and kindness are doubled in value by being offered at an early period. In social gatherings the claims of the stranger are too apt to be forgotten; especially in cases where there are no peculiar attractions of personal appearance, or talents, or high standing. Such a one should be treated with attention, _because_ he is a stranger; and when communities learn to act more from principle, and less from selfish impulse, on this subject, the sacred claims of the stranger will be less frequently forgotten. The most agreeable hospitality to visitors who become inmates of a family, is that which puts them entirely at ease. This can never be the case where the guest perceives that the order of family arrangement is essentially altered, and that time, comfort, and convenience are sacrificed for his accommodation. Offering the best to visitors, showing a polite regard to every wish expressed, and giving precedence to them, in all matters of comfort and convenience, can be easily combined with the easy freedom which makes the stranger feel at home; and this is the perfection of hospitable entertainment. XXIV. CARE OF THE AGED. One of the most interesting and instructive illustrations of the design of our Creator, in the institution of the family state, is the preservation of the aged after their faculties decay and usefulness in ordinary modes seems to be ended. By most persons this period of infirmities and uselessness is anticipated with apprehension, especially in the case of those who have lived an active, useful life, giving largely of service to others, and dependent for most resources of enjoyment on their own energies. To lose the resources of sight or hearing, to become feeble in body, so as to depend on the ministries of others, and finally to gradually decay in mental force and intelligence, to many seems far worse than death. Multitudes have prayed to be taken, from this life when their usefulness is thus ended. But a true view of the design of the family state, and of the ministry of the aged and helpless in carrying out this design, would greatly lessen such apprehensions, and might be made a source of pure and elevated enjoyment. The Christian virtues of patience with the unreasonable, of self- denying labor for the weak, and of sympathy with the afflicted, are dependent, to a great degree, on cultivation and habit, and these can be gained only in circumstances demanding the daily exercise of these graces. In this aspect, continued life in the aged and infirm should be regarded as a blessing and privilege to a family, especially to the young, and the cultivation of the graces that are demanded by that relation should be made a definite and interesting part of their education. A few of the methods to be attempted for this end will be suggested. In the first place, the object for which the aged are preserved in life, when in many cases they would rejoice to depart, should be definitely kept in recollection, and a sense of gratitude and obligation be cultivated. They should be looked up to and treated as ministers sustained by our Heavenly Father in a painful experience, expressly for the good of those around them. This appreciation of their ministry and usefulness will greatly lessen their trials and impart consolation. If in hours of weariness and infirmity they wonder why they are kept in a useless and helpless state to burden others around, they should be assured that they are not useless; and this is not only by word, but, better still, by the manifestation of those virtues which such opportunities alone can secure. Another mode of cheering the aged is to engage them in the domestic games and sports which unite the old and the young in amusement. Many a weary hour may thus be enlivened for the benefit of all concerned. And here will often occur opportunities of self-denying benevolence in relinquishing personal pursuits and gratification thus to promote the enjoyment of the infirm and dependent. Reading aloud is often a great source of enjoyment to those who by age are deprived of reading for themselves. So the effort to gather news of the neighborhood and impart it, is another mode of relieving those deprived of social gatherings. There is no period in life when those courtesies of good breeding which recognize the relations of superior and inferior should be more carefully cherished than when there is need of showing them toward those of advancing age. To those who have controlled a household, and still more to those who in public life have been honored and admired, the decay of mental powers is peculiarly trying, and every effort should be made to lessen the trial by courteous attention to their opinions, and by avoiding all attempts to controvert them, or to make evident any weakness or fallacy in their conversation. In regard to the decay of bodily or mental faculties, much more can be done to prevent or retard them than is generally supposed, and some methods for this end which have been gained by observation or experience will be presented. As the exercise of all our faculties tends to increase their power, unless it be carried to excess, it is very important that the aged should be provided with useful employment, suited to their strength and capacity. Nothing hastens decay so fast as to remove the _stimulus_ of useful activity. It should become a study with those who have the care of the aged to interest them in some useful pursuit, and to convince them that they are in some measure actively contributing to the general welfare. In the country and in families where the larger part of the domestic labor is done without servants, it is very easy to keep up an interest in domestic industrial employments. The tending of a small garden in summer--the preparation of fuel and food, the mending of household utensils--these and many other occupations of the hands will keep alive activity and interest, in a man; while for women there are still more varied resources. There is nothing that so soon hastens decay and lends acerbity to age as giving up all business and responsibility, and every mode possible should be devised to prevent this result. As age advances, all the bodily functions move more slowly, and consequently the generation of animal heat, by the union of oxygen and carbon in the capillaries, is in smaller proportion than in the midday of life. For this reason some practices, safe for the vigorous, must be relinquished by the aged; and one of these is the use of the cold bath. It has often been the case that rheumatism has been caused by neglect of this caution. More than ordinary care should be taken to preserve animal heat in the aged, especially in the hands and the feet. In many families will be found an aged brother, or sister, or other relative who has no home, and no claim to a refuge in the family circle but that of kindred. Sometimes they are poor and homeless, for want of a faculty for self-supporting business; and sometimes they have peculiarities of person or disposition which render their society undesirable. These are cases where the pitying tenderness of the Saviour should be remembered, and for his sake patient kindness and tender care be given, and he will graciously accept it as an offering of love and duty to himself. "Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these my brethren, ye have done it to me." It is sometimes the case that even parents in old age have had occasion to say with the forsaken King Lear, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!" It is right training in early life alone that will save from this. In the opening of China and the probable influx of its people, there is one cause for congratulation to a nation that is failing in the virtue of reverence. The Chinese are distinguished above all other nations for their respect for the aged, and especially for their reverence for aged parents and conformity to their authority, even to the last. This virtue is cultivated to a degree that is remarkable, and has produced singular and favorable results on the national character, which it is hoped may be imparted to the land to which they are flocking in such multitudes. For with all their peculiarities of pagan philosophy and their oriental eccentricities of custom and practical life, they are everywhere renowned for their uniform and elegant courtesy--a most commendable virtue, and one arising from habitual deference to the aged more than from any other source. XXV. THE CASE OF SERVANTS. Although in earlier ages the highest born, wealthiest, and proudest ladies were skilled in the simple labors of the household, the advance of society toward luxury has changed all that in lands of aristocracy and classes, and at the present time America is the only country where there is a class of women who may be described as _ladies_ who do their own work. By a lady we mean a woman of education, cultivation, and refinement, of liberal tastes and ideas, who, without any very material additions or changes, would be recognized as a lady in any circle of the Old World or the New. The existence of such a class is a fact peculiar to American society, a plain result of the new principles involved in the doctrine of universal equality. When the colonists first came to this country, of however mixed ingredients their ranks might have been composed, and however imbued with the spirit of feudal and aristocratic ideas, the discipline of the wilderness soon brought them to a democratic level; the gentleman felled the wood for his log-cabin side by side with the plowman, and thews and sinews rose in the market. "A man was deemed honorable in proportion as he lifted his hand upon the high trees of the forest." So in the interior domestic circle. Mistress and maid, living in a log-cabin together, became companions, and sometimes the maid, as the one well-trained in domestic labor, took precedence of the mistress. It also became natural and unavoidable that children should begin to work as early as they were capable of it. The result was a generation of intelligent people brought up to labor from necessity, but devoting to the problem of labor the acuteness of a disciplined brain. The mistress, outdone in sinews and muscles by her maid, kept her superiority by skill and contrivance. If she could not lift a pail of water, she could invent methods which made lifting the pail unnecessary,--if she could not take a hundred steps without weariness, she could make twenty answer the purpose of a hundred. Slavery, it is true, was to some extent introduced into New England, but it never suited the genius of the people, never struck deep root or spread so as to choke the good seed of self-helpfulness. Many were opposed to it from conscientious principle--many from far-sighted thrift, and from a love of thoroughness and well-doing which despised the rude, unskilled work of barbarians. People, having once felt the thorough neatness and beauty of execution which came of free, educated, and thoughtful labor, could not tolerate the clumsiness of slavery. Thus it came to pass that for many years the rural population of New-England, as a general rule, did their own work, both out-doors and in. If there were a black man or black woman or bound girl, they were emphatically only the _helps_, following humbly the steps of master and mistress, and used by them as instruments of lightening certain portions of their toil. The master and mistress, with their children, were the head workers. Great merriment has been excited in the old country because, years ago, the first English travelers found that the class of persons by them denominated servants, were in America denominated _help_, or helpers. But the term was the very best exponent of the state of society. There were few servants, in the European sense of the word; there was a society of educated workers, where all were practically equal, and where, if there was a deficiency in one family and an excess in another, a _helper_, not a servant in the European sense, was hired. Mrs. Brown, who has several sons and no daughters, enters into agreement with Mrs. Jones, who has several daughters and no sons. She borrows a daughter, and pays her good wages to help in her domestic toil, and sends a son to help the labors of Mr. Jones. These two young people go into the families in which they are to be employed in all respects as equals and companions, and so the work of the community is equalized. Hence arose, and for many years continued, a state of society more nearly solving than any other ever did the problem of combining the highest culture of the mind with the highest culture ofthe muscles and the physical faculties. Then were to be seen families of daughters, handsome, strong women, rising each day to their in-door work with cheerful alertness--one to sweep the room, another to make the fire, while a third prepared the breakfast for the father and brothers who were going out to manly labor: and they chatted meanwhile of books, studies, embroidery; discussed the last new poem, or some historical topic started by graver reading, or perhaps a rural ball that was to come off next week. They spun with the book tied to the distaff; they wove; they did all manner of fine needle-work; they made lace, painted flowers, and, in short, in the boundless consciousness of activity, invention, and perfect health, set themselves to any work they had ever read or thought of. A bride in those days was married with sheets and tablecloths of her own weaving, with counterpanes and toilet-covers wrought in divers embroidery by her own and her sisters' hands. The amount of fancy-work done in our days by girls who have nothing else to do, will not equal what was done by these who performed, besides, among them, the whole work of the family. In those former days most women were in good health, debility and disease being the exception. Then, too, was seen the economy of daylight and its pleasures. They were used to early rising, and would not lie in bed, if they could. Long years of practice made them familiar with the shortest, neatest, most expeditious method of doing every household office, so that really for the greater part of the time in the house there seemed, to a looker-on, to be nothing to do. They rose in the morning and dispatched husband, father, and brothers to the farm or woodlot; went sociably about, chatting with each other, skimmed the milk, made the butter, and turned the cheeses. The forenoon was long; ten to one, all the so-called morning work over, they had leisure for an hour's sewing or reading before it was time to start the dinner preparations. By two o'clock the house-work was done, and they had the long afternoon for books, needle-work, or drawing--for perhaps there was one with a gift at her pencil. Perhaps one read aloud while others sewed, and managed in that way to keep up a great deal of reading. It is said that women who have been accustomed to doing their own work become hard mistresses. They are certainly more sure of the ground they stand on--they are less open to imposition--they can speak and act in their own houses more as those "having authority," and therefore are less afraid to exact what is justly their due, and less willing to endure impertinence and unfaithfulness. Their general error lies in expecting that any servant ever will do as well for them as they will do for themselves, and that an untrained, undisciplined human being ever _can_ do house-work, or any other work, with the neatness and perfection, that a person of trained intelligence can. It has been remarked in our armies that the men of cultivation, though bred in delicate and refined spheres, can bear up under the hardships of camp-life better and longer than rough laborers. The reason is, that an educated mind knows how to use and save its body, to work it and spare it, as an uneducated mind can not; and so the college-bred youth brings himself safely through fatigues which kill the unreflective laborer. Cultivated, intelligent women, who are brought up to do the work of their own families, are labor-saving institutions. They make the head save the wear of the muscles. By forethought, contrivance, system, and arrangement they lessen the amount to be done, and do it with less expense of time and strength than others. The old New-England motto, _Get your work done up in the forenoon_, applied to an amount of work which would keep a common Irish servant toiling from daylight to sunset. A lady living in one of our obscure New-England towns, where there were no servants to be hired, at last, by sending to a distant city, succeeded in procuring a raw Irish maid-of-all-work, a creature of immense bone and muscle, but of heavy, unawakened brain. In one fortnight she established such a reign of Chaos and old Night in the kitchen and through the house that her mistress, a delicate woman, encumbered with the care of young children, began seriously to think that she made more work each day than she performed, and dismissed her. What was now to be done? Fortunately, the daughter of a neighboring farmer was going to be married in six months, and wanted a little ready money for her _trousseau_. The lady was informed that Miss So-and-so would come to her, not as a servant, but as hired "help." She was fain to accept any help with gladness. Forthwith came into the family-circle a tall, well-dressed young person, grave, unobtrusive, self-respecting, yet not in the least presuming, who sat at the family table and observed all its decorums with the modest self-possession of a lady. The new-comer took a survey of the labors of a family of ten members, including four or five young children, and, looking, seemed at once to throw them into system; matured her plans, arranged her hours of washing, ironing, baking, and cleaning; rose early, moved deftly; and in a single day the slatternly and littered kitchen assumed that neat, orderly appearance that so often strikes one in New England farm-houses. The work seemed to be all gone. Every thing was nicely washed, brightened, put in place, and staid in place; the floors, when cleaned; remained clean; the work was always done, and not doing; and every afternoon the young lady sat neatly dressed in her own apartment, either quietly writing letters to her betrothed, or sewing on her bridal outfit. Such is the result of employing those who have been brought up to do their own work. That tall, fine-looking girl, for aught we know, may yet be mistress of a fine house on Fifth Avenue; and if she is, she will, we fear, prove rather an exacting mistress to Irish Bridget; but she will never be threatened by her cook and chambermaid, after the first one or two have tried the experiment. Those remarkable women of old were made by circumstances. There were, comparatively speaking, no servants to be had, and so children were trained to habits of industry and mechanical adroitness from the cradle, and every household process was reduced to the very minimum of labor. Every step required in a process was counted, every movement calculated; and she who took ten steps, when one would do, lost her reputation for "faculty." Certainly such an early drill was of use in developing the health and the bodily powers, as well as in giving precision to the practical mental faculties. All household economies were arranged with equal niceness in those thoughtful minds. A trained housekeeper knew just how many sticks of hickory of a certain size were required to heat her oven, and how many of each different kind of wood. She knew by a sort of intuition just what kinds of food would yield the most palatable nutriment with the least outlay of accessories in cooking. She knew to a minute the time when each article must go into and be withdrawn from her oven; and if she could only lie in her chamber and direct, she could guide an intelligent child through the processes with mathematical certainty. It is impossible, however, that any thing but early training and long experience can produce these results, and it is earnestly to be wished that the grandmothers of New-England had written down their experiences for our children; they would have been a mine of maxims and traditions better than any other "traditions of the elders" which we know of. In this country, our democratic institutions have removed the superincumbent pressure which in the Old World confines the servants to a regular orbit. They come here feeling that this is somehow a land of liberty, and with very dim and confused notions of what liberty is. They are very extensively the raw, untrained Irish peasantry, and the wonder is, that, with all the unreasoning heats and prejudices of the Celtic blood, all the necessary ignorance and rawness, there should be the measure of comfort and success there is in our domestic arrangements. But, as long as things are so, there will be constant changes and interruptions in every domestic establishment, and constantly recurring interregnums when the mistress must put her own hand to the work, whether the hand be a trained or an untrained one. As matters now are, the young housekeeper takes life at the hardest. She has very little strength,--no experience to teach her how to save her strength. She knows nothing experimentally of the simplest processes necessary to keep her family comfortably fed and clothed; and she has a way of looking at all these things which makes them particularly hard and distasteful to her. She does not escape being obliged to do house-work at intervals, but she does it in a weak, blundering, confused way, that makes it twice as hard and disagreeable as it need be. Now, if every young woman learned to do house-work, and cultivated her practical faculties in early life, she would, in the first place, be much more likely to keep her servants, and, in the second place, if she lost them temporarily, would avoid all that wear and tear of the nervous system which comes from constant ill-success in those departments on which family health and temper mainly depend. This is one of the peculiarities of our American life, which require a peculiar training. Why not face it sensibly? Our land is now full of motorpathic institutions to which women are sent at a great expense to have hired operators stretch and exercise their inactive muscles. They lie for hours to have their feet twigged, their arms flexed, and all the different muscles of the body worked for them, because they are so flaccid and torpid that the powers of life do not go on. Would it not be quite as cheerful, and a less expensive process, if young girls from early life developed the muscles in sweeping, dusting, starching, ironing, and all the multiplied domestic processes which our grandmothers knew of? A woman who did all these, and diversified the intervals with spinning on the great and little wheel, did not need the gymnastics of Dio Lewis or of the Swedish Movement Cure, which really are a necessity now. Does it not seem poor economy to pay servants for letting our muscles grow feeble, and then to pay operators to exercise them for us? I will venture to say that our grandmothers in a week went over every movement that any gymnast has invented, and went over them to some productive purpose too. The first business of a housekeeper in America is that of a teacher. She can have a good table only by having practical knowledge, and tact in imparting it. If she understands her business practically and experimentally, her eye detects at once the weak spot; it requires only a little tact, some patience, some clearness in giving directions, and all comes right. If we carry a watch to a watchmaker, and undertake to show him how to regulate the machinery, he laughs and goes on his own way; but if a brother-machinist makes suggestions, he listens respectfully. So, when a woman who knows nothing of woman's work undertakes to instruct one who knows more than she does, she makes no impression; but a woman who has been trained experimentally, and shows she understands the matter thoroughly, is listened to with respect. Let a woman make her own bread for one month, and, simple as the process seems, it will take as long as that to get a thorough knowledge of all the possibilities in the case; but after that, she will be able to command good bread by the aid of all sorts of servants; in other words, will be a thoroughly prepared teacher. Although bread-making seems a simple process, it yet requires delicate care and watchfulness. There are fifty ways to spoil good bread; There are a hundred little things to be considered and allowed for, that require accurate observation and experience. The same process that will raise good bread in cold weather will make sour bread in the heat of summer; different qualities of flour require variations in treatment as also different sorts and conditions of yeast; and when all is done, the baking presents another series of possibilities which require exact attention. A well-trained mind, accustomed to reflect, analyze, and generalize, has an advantage over uncultured minds even of double experience. Poor as your cook is, she now knows more of her business than you do. After a very brief period of attention and experiment, you will not only know more than she does, but you will convince her that you do, which is quite as much to the purpose. In the same manner, lessons must be given on the washing of silver and the making of beds. Good servants do not often come to us; they must be _made_ by patience and training; and if a girl has a good disposition and a reasonable degree of handiness, and the housekeeper understands her profession, a good servant may be made out of an indifferent one. Some of the best girls have been those who came directly from the ship, with no preparation but docility and some natural quickness. The hardest cases to be managed are not of those who have been taught nothing, but of those who have been taught wrongly--who come self-opinionated, with ways which are distasteful, and contrary to the genius of one's housekeeping. Such require that their mistress shall understand at least so much of the actual conduct of affairs as to prove to the servant that there are better ways than those in which she has been trained. So much has been said of the higher sphere of woman, and so much has been done to find some better work for her that, insensibly, almost every body begins to feel that it is rather degrading for a woman in good society to be much tied down to family affairs; especially since in these Woman's Rights Conventions there is so much dissatisfaction expressed at those who would confine her ideas to the kitchen and nursery. Yet these Woman's Rights Conventions are a protest against many former absurd, unreasonable ideas--the mere physical and culinary idea of womanhood as connected only with puddings and shirt-buttons, the unjust and unequal burdens which the laws of harsher ages had cast upon the sex. Many of the women connected with these movements are as superior in every thing properly womanly as they are in exceptional talent and culture. There is no manner of doubt that the sphere of woman is properly to be enlarged. Every woman has rights as a human being which belong to no sex, and ought to be as freely conceded to her as if she were a man,--and first and foremost, the great right of doing any thing which God and nature evidently have fitted her to excel in. If she be made a natural orator, like Miss Dickinson, or an astronomer, like Mrs. Somerville, or a singer, like Grisi, let not the technical rules of womanhood be thrown in the way of her free use of her powers. Still, _per contra_, there has been a great deal of crude, disagreeable talk in these conventions, and too great tendency of the age to make the education of woman anti-domestic. It seems as if the world never could advance, except like ships under a head-wind, tacking and going too far, now in this direction, and now in the opposite. Our common-school system now rejects sewing from the education of girls, which very properly used to occupy many hours daily in school a generation ago. The daughters of laborers and artisans are put through algebra, geometry, trigonometry, and the higher mathematics, to the entire neglect of that learning which belongs distinctively to woman. A girl of ten can not keep pace with her class, if she gives any time to domestic matters; and accordingly she is excused from them all during the whole term of her education. The boy of a family, at an early age, is put to a trade, or the labors of a farm; the father becomes impatient of his support, and requires of him to take care for himself. Hence an interrupted education--learning coming by snatches in the winter months or in the intervals of work. As the result, the young women in some of our country towns are, in mental culture, much in advance of the males of the same household; but with this comes a physical delicacy, the result of an exclusive use of the brain and a neglect of the muscular system, with great inefficiency in practical domestic duties. The race of strong, hardy, cheerful girls, that used to grow up in country places, and made the bright, neat, New-England kitchens of old times--the girls that could wash, iron, brew, bake, harness a horse and drive him, no less than braid straw, embroider, draw, paint, and read innumerable books--this race of women, pride of olden time, is daily lessening; and in their stead come the fragile, easily-fatigued, languid girls of a modern age, drilled in book-learning, ignorant of common things. The great danger of all this, and of the evils that come from it, is, that society, by and by, will turn as blindly against female intellectual culture as it now advocates it, and having worked disproportionately one way, will work disproportionately in the opposite direction. Domestic service is the great problem of life herein America; the happiness of families, their thrift, well-being, and comfort, are more affected by this than by any one thing else. The modern girls, as they have been brought up, can not perform the labor of their own families as in those simpler, old-fashioned days; and what is worse, they have no practical skill with which to instruct servants, who come to us, as a class, raw and untrained. In the present state of prices, the board of a domestic costs double her wages, and the waste she makes is a more serious matter still. Many of the domestic evils in America originate, in the fact that, while society here is professedly based on new principles which ought to make social life in every respect different from the life of the Old World, yet these principles have never been so thought out and applied as to give consistency and harmony to our daily relations. America starts with a political organization based oh a declaration of the primitive freedom and equality of all men. Every human being, according to this principle, stands on the same natural level with every other, and has the same chance to rise according to the degree of power or capacity given by the Creator. All our civil institutions are designed to preserve this equality, as far as possible, from generation to generation: there is no entailed property, there are no hereditary titles, no monopolies, no privileged classes--all are to be as free to rise and fall as the waves of the sea. The condition of domestic service, however, still retains about it something of the influences from feudal times, and from the near presence of slavery in neighboring States. All English literature of the world describes domestic service in the old feudal spirit and with the old feudal language, which regarded the master as belonging to a privileged class and the servant to an inferior one. There is not a play, not a poem, not a novel, not a history, that does not present this view. The master's rights, like the rights of kings, were supposed to rest in his being born in a superior rank. The good servant was one who, from childhood, had learned "to order himself lowly and reverently to all his betters." When New-England brought to these shores the theory of democracy, she brought, in the persons of the first pilgrims, the habits of thought and of action formed in aristocratic communities. Winthrop's Journal, and all the old records of the earlier colonists, show households where masters and mistresses stood on the "right divine" of the privileged classes, howsoever they might have risen up against authorities themselves. The first consequence of this state of things was a universal rejection of domestic service in all classes of American-born society. For a generation or two there was, indeed, a sort of interchange of family strength,--sons and daughters engaging in the service of neighboring families, in default of a sufficient working-force of their own, but always on conditions of strict equality. The assistant was to share the table, the family sitting-room, and every honor and attention that might be claimed by son or daughter. When families increased in refinement and education so as to make these conditions of close intimacy with more uncultured neighbors disagreeable, they had to choose between such intimacies and the performance of their own domestic toil. No wages could induce a son or daughter of New-England to take the condition of a servant on terms which they thought applicable to that of a slave. The slightest hint of a separate table was resented as an insult; not to enter the front door, and not to sit in the front parlor on state occasions, was bitterly commented on as a personal indignity. The well-taught, self-respecting daughters of farmers, the class most valuable in domestic service, gradually retired from it. They preferred any other employment, however laborious. Beyond all doubt, the labors of a well-regulated family are more healthy, more cheerful, more, interesting, because less monotonous, than the mechanical toils of a factory; yet the girls of New-England, with one consent, preferred the factory, and left the whole business of domestic service to a foreign population; and they did it mainly because they would not take positions in families as an inferior laboring-class by the side of others of their own age who assumed as their prerogative to live without labor. "I can't let you have one of my daughters," said an energetic matron to her neighbor from the city, who was seeking for a servant in her summer vacation; "if you hadn't daughters of your own, may be I would; but my girls are not going to work so that your girls may live in idleness." It was vain to offer money. "We don't need your money, ma'am; we can support ourselves in other ways; my girls can braid straw, and bind shoes, but they are not going to be slaves to any body." In the Irish and German servants who took the place of Americans in families, there was, to begin with, the tradition of education in favor of a higher class; but even the foreign population became more or less infected with the spirit of democracy. They came to this country with vague notions of freedom and equality, and in ignorant and uncultivated people such ideas are often more unreasonable for being vague. They did not, indeed, claim a seat at the table and in the parlor, but they repudiated many of those habits of respect and courtesy which belonged to their former condition, and asserted their own will and way in the round, unvarnished phrase which they supposed to be their right as republican citizens. Life became a sort of domestic wrangle and struggle between the employers, who secretly confessed their weakness, but endeavored openly to assume the air and bearing of authority, and the employed, who knew their power and insisted on their privileges. From this cause domestic service in America has had less of mutual kindliness titan in old countries. Its terms have been so ill- understood and defined that both parties have assumed the defensive; and a common topic of conversation in American female society has often been the general servile war which in one form or another was going on in their different families--a war as interminable as would be a struggle between aristocracy and common people, undefined by any bill of rights or constitution, and therefore opening fields for endless disputes. In England, the class who go to service _are_ a class, and service is a profession; the distance between them and their employers is so marked and defined, and all the customs and requirements of the position are so perfectly understood, that the master or mistress has no fear of being compromised by condescension, and no need of the external voice or air of authority. The higher up in the social scale one goes, the more courteous seems to become the intercourse of master and servant; the more perfect and real the power, the more is it veiled in outward expression--commands are phrased as requests, and gentleness of voice and manner covers an authority which no one would think of offending without trembling. But in America all is undefined. In the first place, there is no class who mean to make domestic service a profession to live and die in. It is universally an expedient, a stepping-stone to something higher; your best servants always have some thing else in view as soon as they have laid by a little money; some form of independence which shall give them a home of their own is constantly in mind. Families look forward to the buying of landed homesteads, and the scattered brothers and sisters work awhile in domestic service to gain, the common fund for the purpose; your seamstress intends to become a dressmaker, and take in work at her own house; your cook is pondering a marriage with the baker, which shall transfer her toils from your cooking-stove to her own. Young women are eagerly rushing into every other employment, till feminine trades and callings are all over-stocked. We are continually harrowed with tales of the sufferings of distressed needle-women, of the exactions, and extortions practiced on the frail sex in the many branches of labor and trade at which they try their hands; and yet women will encounter all these chances of ruin and starvation rather than make up their minds to permanent domestic service. Now, what is the matter with domestic service? One would think, on the face of it, that a calling which gives a settled home, a comfortable room, rent-free, with fire and lights, good board and lodging, and steady, well-paid wages, would certainly offer more attractions than the making of shirts for tenpence, with all the risks of providing one's own sustenance and shelter. Is it not mainly from the want of a definite idea of the true position of a servant under our democratic institutions that domestic service is so shunned and avoided in America, and that it is the very last thing which an intelligent young woman will look to for a living? It is more the want of personal respect toward, those in that position than the labor incident to it which repels our people from it. Many would be willing to perform these labors, but they are not willing to place themselves in a situation where their self-respect is hourly wounded by the implication of a degree of inferiority, _which does not follow any kind of labor or service in this country but that of the family_. There exists in the minds of employers an unsuspected spirit of superiority, which is stimulated into an active form by the resistance which democracy inspires in the working-class. Many families think of servants only as a necessary evil, their wages as exactions, and all that is allowed them as so much taken from the family; and they seek in every way to get from them as much and to give them as little as possible. Their rooms are the neglected, ill-furnished, incommodious ones--and the kitchen is the most cheerless and comfortless place in the house. Other families, more good-natured and liberal, provide their domestics with more suitable accommodations, and are more indulgent; but there is still a latent spirit of something like contempt for the position. That they treat their servants with so much consideration seems to them a merit entitling them to the most prostrate gratitude; and they are constantly disappointed and shocked at that want of sense of inferiority on the part of these people which leads them to appropriate pleasant rooms, good furniture, and good living as mere matters of common justice. It seems to be a constant surprise to some employers that servants should insist on having the same human wants as themselves. Ladles who yawn in their elegantly furnished parlors, among books and pictures, if they have not company, parties, or opera to diversify the evening, seem astonished and half indignant that cook and chambermaid are more disposed to go out for an evening gossip than to sit on hard chairs in the kitchen where they have been toiling all day. The pretty chambermaid's anxieties about her dress, the minutes she spends at her small and not very clear mirror, are sneeringly noticed by those whose toilet-cares take up serious hours; and the question has never apparently occurred to them why a serving-maid should not want to look pretty as well as her mistress. She is a woman as well as they, with, all a woman's wants and weaknesses; and her dress is as much to her as theirs to them. A vast deal of trouble among servants arises; from impertinent interferences and petty tyrannical enactions on the part of employers. Now, the authority of the master and mistress of a house in regard to their domestics extends simply to the things they have contracted to do and the hours during which they have contracted to serve; otherwise than this, they have no more right to interfere with them in the disposal of their time than with any mechanic whom they employ. They have, indeed, a right to regulate the hours of their own household, and servants can choose between conformity to these hours and the loss of their situation; but, within reasonable limits, their right to come and go at their own discretion, in their own time, should be unquestioned. If employers are troubled by the fondness of their servants for dancing, evening company, and late hours, the proper mode of proceeding is to make these matters a subject of distinct contract in hiring. The more strictly and perfectly the business matters of the first engagement of domestics are conducted, the more likelihood there is of mutual quiet and satisfaction in the relation. It is quite competent to every housekeeper to say what practices are or are not consistent with the rules of her family, and what will be inconsistent with the service for which she agrees to pay. It is much better to regulate such affairs by cool contract in the outset than by warm altercations and protracted domestic battles. As to the terms of social intercourse, it seems somehow to be settled in the minds of many employers that their servants owe them and their family more respect than they and the family owe to the servants. But do they? What is the relation of servant to employer in a democratic country? Precisely that of a person who for money performs any kind of service for you. The carpenter comes into your house to put up a set of shelves--the cook comes into your kitchen to cook your dinner. You never think that the carpenter owes you any more respect than you owe to him because he is in your house doing your behests; he is your fellow-citizen, you treat him with respect, you expect to be treated with respect by him. You have a claim on him that he shall do your work according to your directions--no more. Now, I apprehend that there is a very common notion as to the position and rights of servants which is quite different from this. Is it not a common feeling that a servant is one who may he treated with a degree of freedom by every member of the family which he or she may not return? Do not people feel at liberty to question servants about their private affairs, to comment on their dress and appearance, in a manner which they would feel to be an impertinence, if reciprocated? Do they not feel at liberty to express dissatisfaction with their performances in rude and unceremonious terms, to reprove them in the presence of company, while yet they require that the dissatisfaction of servants shall be expressed only in terms of respect? A woman would not feel herself at liberty to talk to her milliner or her dress-maker in language as devoid of consideration as she will employ toward her cook or chambermaid. And yet both are rendering her a service which she pays for in money, and one is no more made her inferior thereby than the other. Both have an equal right to be treated with courtesy. The master and mistress of a house have a right to require courteous treatment from all whom their roof shelters; but they have no more right to exact it of servants than of every guest and every child, and they themselves owe it as much to servants as to guests. In order that servants may be treated with respect and courtesy, it is not necessary, as in simpler patriarchal days, that they sit at the family-table. Your carpenter or plumber does not feel hurt that you do not ask him to dine with you, nor your milliner and mantua-maker that you do not exchange ceremonious calls and invite them to your parties. It is well understood that your relations with them are of a mere business character. They never take it as an assumption of superiority on your part that you do not admit them to relations of private intimacy. There may be the most perfect respect and esteem and even friendship between then and you, notwithstanding. So it may be in the case of servants. It is easy to make any person understand that there are quite other reasons than the assumption of personal superiority for not wishing to admit servants to the family privacy. It was not, in fact, to sit in the parlor or at the table in themselves considered, that was the thing aimed at by New--England girls; these were valued only as signs that they were deemed worthy of respect and consideration, and, where freely conceded, were often in point of fact declined. Let servants feel, in their treatment by their employers and in the atmosphere of the family, that their position is held to be a respectable one; let them feel, in the mistress of the family, the charm of unvarying consideration and good manners; let their work- rooms be made convenient and comfortable, and their private apartments bear some reasonable comparison in point of agreeableness to those of other members of the family, and domestic service will be more frequently sought by a superior and self-respecting class. There are families in which such a state of things prevails; and such families, amid the many causes which unite to make the tenure of service uncertain, have generally been able to keep good permanent servants. There is an extreme into which kindly disposed people often run with regard to servants which may be mentioned here. They make pets of them. They give extravagant wages and indiscreet indulgences, and, through indolence and easiness of temper, tolerate neglect of duty. Many of the complaints of the ingratitude of servants come from those who have spoiled them in this way; while many of the longest and most harmonious domestic unions have sprung from a simple, quiet course of Christian justice and benevolence, a recognition of servants as fellow-beings and fellow-Christians, and a doing to them as we would in like circumstances that they should do to us. The mistresses of American families, whether they like it or not, have the duties of missionaries imposed upon them by that class from which our supply of domestic servants is drawn. They may as well accept the position cheerfully, and, as one raw, untrained hand after another passes through their family, and is instructed by them in the mysteries of good house-keeping, comfort themselves with the reflection that they are doing something to form good wives and mothers for the republic. The complaints made of Irish girls are numerous and loud; the failings of green Erin, alas! are but too open and manifest; yet, in arrest of judgment, let us move this consideration: let us imagine our own daughters between the ages of sixteen and twenty-four, untaught and inexperienced in domestic affairs as they commonly are, shipped to a foreign shore to seek service in families. It may be questioned whether, as a whole, they would do much better. The girls that fill our families and do our house-work are often of the age of our own daughters, standing for themselves, without mothers to guide them, in a foreign country, not only bravely supporting themselves, but sending home in every ship remittances to impoverished friends left behind. If our daughters did as much for us, should we not be proud of their energy and heroism? When we go into the houses of our country, we find a majority of well-kept, well-ordered, and even elegant establishments, where the only hands employed are those of the daughters of Erin. True, American women have been their instructors, and many a weary hour of care have they had in the discharge of this office; but the result on the whole is beautiful and good, and the end of it, doubtless, will be peace. Instead, then, of complaining that we can not have our own peculiar advantages and those of other nations too, or imagining how much better off we should be if things were different from what they are, it is much wiser and more Christian-like to strive cheerfully to conform to actual circumstances; and, after remedying all that we can control, patiently to submit to what is beyond our power. If domestics are found to be incompetent, unstable, and unconfirmed to their station, it is Perfect Wisdom which appoints these trials to teach us patience, fortitude, and self-control; and if the discipline is met in a proper spirit, it will prove a blessing rather than an evil. But to judge correctly in regard to some of the evils involved in the state of domestic service in this country, we should endeavor to conceive ourselves placed in the situation of those of whom complaint is made, that we may not expect from them any more than it would seem right should be exacted from us in similar circumstances. It is sometimes urged against domestics that they exact exorbitant wages. But what is the rule of rectitude on this subject? Is it not the universal law of labor and of trade that an article is to be valued according to its scarcity and the demand? When wheat is scarce, the farmer raises his price; and when a mechanic offers services difficult to be obtained, he makes a corresponding increase of price. And why is it not right for domestics to act according to a rule allowed to be correct in reference to all other trades and professions? It is a fact, that really good domestic service must continue to increase in value just in proportion as this country waxes rich and prosperous; thus making the proportion of those who wish to hire labor relatively greater, and the number of those willing to go to service less. Money enables the rich to gain many advantages which those of more limited circumstances can not secure. One of these is, securing good servants by offering high wages; and this, as the scarcity of this class increases, will serve constantly to raise the price of service. It is right for domestics to charge the market value, and this value is always decided by the scarcity of the article and the amount of demand. Right views of this subject will sometimes serve to diminish hard feelings toward those who would otherwise be wrongfully regarded as unreasonable and exacting. Another complaint against servants is that of instability and discontent, leading to perpetual change. But in reference to this, let a mother or daughter conceive of their own circumstances as so changed that the daughter must go out to service. Suppose a place is engaged, and it is then found that she must sleep in a comfortless garret; and that, when a new domestic comes, perhaps a coarse and dirty foreigner, she must share her bed with her. Another place is offered, where she can have a comfortable room and an agreeable room-mate; in such a case, would not both mother and daughter think it right to change? Or suppose, on trial, it was found that the lady of the house was fretful or exacting and hard to please, or that her children were so ungoverned as to be perpetual vexations; or that the work was so heavy that no time was allowed for relaxation and the care of a wardrobe; and another place offers where those evils can be escaped; would not mother and daughter here think it right to change? And is it not right for domestics, as well as their employers, to seek places where they can be most comfortable? In some cases, this instability and love of change would be remedied, if employers would take more pains to make a residence with them agreeable, and to attach servants to the family by feelings of gratitude and affection. There are ladies, even where well-qualified domestics are most rare, who seldom find any trouble in keeping good and steady ones. And the reason is, that their servants know they can not better their condition by any change within reach. It is not merely by giving them comfortable rooms, and good food, and presents, and privileges, that the attachment of domestic servants is secured; it is by the manifestation of a friendly and benevolent interest in their comfort and improvement. This is exhibited in bearing patiently with their faults; in kindly teaching them how to improve; in showing them how to make and take proper care of their clothes; in guarding their health; in teaching them to read if necessary, and supplying them with proper books; and in short, by endeavoring, so far as may be, to supply the place of parents. It is seldom that such a course would fail to secure steady service, and such affection and gratitude that even higher wages would be ineffectual to tempt them away. There would probably be some leases of ungrateful returns; but there is no doubt that the course indicated, if generally pursued, would very much lessen the evil in question. When servants are forward and bold in manners and disrespectful in address, they may be considerately taught that those who are among the best-bred and genteel have courteous and respectful manners and language to all they meet: while many who have wealth, are regarded as vulgar, because they exhibit rude and disrespectful manners. The very term _gentle man_ indicates the refinement and delicacy of address which distinguishes the high-bred from the coarse and vulgar. In regard to appropriate dress, in most cases it is difficult for an employer to interfere, _directly_, with comments or advice. The most successful mode is to offer some, service in mending or making a wardrobe, and when a confidence in the kindness of feeling is thus gained, remarks and suggestions will generally be properly received, and new views of propriety and economy can be imparted. In some cases it may be well for an employer who, from appearances, anticipates difficulty of this kind, in making the preliminary contract or agreement to state that she wishes to have the room, person, and dress of her servants kept neat and in order, and that she expects to remind them of their duty, in this particular, if it is neglected. Domestic servants are very apt to neglect the care of their own chambers and clothing; and such habits have a most pernicious influence on their well-being and on that of their children in future domestic life. An employer, then, is bound to exercise a parental care over them, in these respects. There is one great mistake, not unfrequently made, in the management both of domestics and of children, and that is, in supposing that the way to cure defects is by finding fault as each failing occurs. But instead of this being true, in many cases the directly opposite course is the best; while, in all instances, much good judgment is required in order to decide when to notice faults and when to let them pass unnoticed. There are some minds very sensitive, easily discouraged, and infirm of purpose. Such persons, when they have formed habits of negligence, haste, and awkwardness, often need expressions of sympathy and encouragement rather than reproof. They have usually been found fault with so much that they have become either hardened or desponding; and it is often the case, that a few words of commendation will awaken fresh efforts and renewed hope. In almost every case, words of kindness, confidence, and encouragement should be mingled with the needful admonitions or reproof. It is a good rule, in reference to this point, to _forewarn_ instead of finding fault. Thus, when a thing has been done wrong, let it pass unnoticed, till it is to be done again; and then, a simple request to have it done in the right way will secure quite as much, and probably more, willing effort, than a reproof administered for neglect. Some persons seem to take it for granted that young and inexperienced minds are bound to have all the forethought and discretion of mature persons; and freely express wonder and disgust when mishaps occur for want of these traits. But it would be far better to save from mistake or forgetfulness by previous caution and care on the part of those who have gained experience and forethought; and thus many occasions of complaint and ill-humor will be avoided. Those who fill the places of heads of families are not very apt to think how painful it is to be chided for neglect of duty or for faults of character. If they would sometimes imagine themselves in the place of those whom they control, with some person daily administering reproof to them, in the same _tone and style_ as they employ to those who are under them, it might serve as a useful cheek to their chidings. It is often the ease, that persons who are most strict and exacting and least able to make allowances and receive palliations, are themselves peculiarly sensitive to any tiling which implies that they are in fault. By such, the spirit implied in the Divine petition, "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us," needs especially to be cherished. One other consideration is very important. There is no duty more binding on Christians than that of patience and meekness under provocations and disappointment. Now, the tendency of every sensitive mind, when thwarted in its wishes, is to complain and find fault, and that often in tones of fretfulness or anger. But there are few servants who have not heard enough of the Bible to know that angry or fretful fault-finding from the mistress of a family, when her work is not done to suit her, is not in agreement with the precepts of Christ. They notice and feel the inconsistency; and every woman, when she gives way to feelings of anger and impatience at the faults of those around her, lowers herself in their respect, while her own conscience, unless very much blinded, can not but suffer a wound. In speaking of the office of the American mistress as being a missionary one, we are far from, recommending any controversial interference with the religious faith of our servants. It is far better to incite them to be good Christians in their own way than to run the risk of shaking their faith in all religion by pointing out to them what seem to us the errors of that in which they have been educated. The general purity of life and propriety of demeanor of so many thousands of undefended young girls cast yearly upon our shores, with no home but their church, and no shield but their religion, are a sufficient proof that this religion exerts an influence over them not to be lightly trifled with. But there is a real unity even in opposite Christian forms; and the Roman Catholic servant and the Protestant mistress, if alike possessed by the spirit of Christ, and striving to conform to the Golden Rule, can not help being one in heart, though one go to mass and the other to meeting. Finally, the bitter baptism through which we have passed, the life-blood dearer than our own which has drenched distant fields, should remind us of the preciousness of distinctive American ideas. They who would seek in their foolish pride to establish the pomp of liveried servants in America are doing that which is simply absurd. A servant can never in our country be the mere appendage to another man, to be marked like a sheep with the color of his owner; he must be a fellow-citizen, with an established position of his own, free to make contracts, free to come and go, and having in his sphere titles to consideration and respect just as definite as those of any trade or profession whatever. Moreover, we can not in this country maintain to any great extent large retinues of servants. Even with ample fortunes, they are forbidden by the general character of society here, which makes them cumbrous and difficult to manage. Every mistress of a family knows that her cares increase with every additional servant. Two keep the peace with each other and their employer; three begin a possible discord, which possibility increases with four, and becomes certain with five or six. Trained housekeepers, such as regulate the complicated establishments of the old world, form a class that are not, and from the nature of the case never will be, found in any great numbers in this country. All such women, as a general thing, are keeping, and prefer to keep, houses of their own. A moderate style of housekeeping, small, compact, and simple domestic establishments, must necessarily be the general order of life in America. So many openings of profit are to be found in this country, that domestic service necessarily wants the permanence which forms so agreeable a feature of it in the old world. This being the case, it should be an object in American to exclude from the labors of the family all that can, with greater advantage, be executed out of it by combined labor. Formerly, in New England, soap and candles were to be made in each separate family; now, comparatively few take this toil upon them. We buy soap of the soap-maker, and candles of the candle-factor. This principle might be extended much further. In France, no family makes its own bread, and better bread can not be eaten than can be bought at the appropriate shops. No family does its own washing; the family's linen is all sent to women who, making this their sole profession, get it up with a care and nicety which can seldom be equaled in any family. How would it simplify the burdens of the American housekeeper to have washing and ironing day expunged from her calendar! How much more neatly and compactly could the whole domestic system be arranged! If all the money that each separate family spends on the outfit and accommodations for washing and ironing, on fuel, soap, starch, and the other requirements, were united in a fund to create a laundry for every dozen families, one or two good women could do in first rate style what now is very indifferently done by the disturbance and disarrangement of all other domestic processes in these families. Whoever sets neighborhood laundries on foot will do much to solve the American housekeeper's hardest problem. Again, American women must not try with three servants to carry on life in the style which in the old world requires sixteen; they must thoroughly understand, and be prepared _to teach_, every branch of housekeeping; they must study to make domestic service desirable, by treating their servants in a way to lead them to respect themselves and to feel themselves respected; and there will gradually be evolved from the present confusion, a solution of the domestic problem which shall be adapted to the life of a new and growing world. XXVI. CARE OF THE SICK. It is interesting to notice in the histories of our Lord the prominent place given to the care of the sick. When he first sent out the apostles, it was to heal the sick as well as to preach. Again, when, he sent out the seventy, their first command was to "heal the sick," and next to say, "the kingdom of God has come nigh unto you." The body was to be healed first, in order to attend to the kingdom of God, even when it was "brought nigh." Jesus Christ spent more time and labor in the cure of men's bodies than in preaching, even, if we subtract those labors with his earthly father by which family homes were provided. When he ascended to the heavens, his last recorded, words to his followers, as given by Mark, were, that his disciples should "lay hands on the sick," that they might recover. Still more directly is the duty of care for the sick exhibited in the solemn allegorical description of the last day. It was those who visited the sick that were the blessed; it was those who did not visit the sick who were told to "depart." Thus are we abundantly taught that one of the most sacred duties of the Christian family is the training of its inmates to care and land attention to the sick. Every woman who has the care of young children, or of a large family, is frequently called upon to advise what shall be done for some one who is indisposed; and often, in circumstances where she must trust solely to her own judgment. In such cases, some err by neglecting to do any thing at all, till the patient is quite sick; but a still greater number err from excessive and injurious dosing. The two great causes of the ordinary slight attacks of illness in a family, are, sudden chills, which close the pores of the skin, and thus affect the throat, lungs, or bowels; and the excessive or improper use of food. In most cases of illness from the first cause, bathing the feet, and some aperient drink to induce perspiration, are suitable remedies. In case of illness from improper food, or excess in eating, fasting for one or two meals, to give the system time and chance to relieve itself, is the safest remedy. Some-times, a gentle cathartic of castor-oil may be needful; but it is best first to try fasting. A safe relief from injurious articles in the stomach is an emetic of warm water; but to be effective, several tumblerfuls must be given in quick succession, and till the stomach can receive no more. The following extract from a discourse of Dr. Burne, before the London Medical Society, contains important, information: "In civilized life, the causes which are most generally and continually operating in the production of diseases are, affections of the mind, improper diet, and retention of the intestinal excretions. The undue retention of excrementitious matter allows of the absorption of its more liquid parts, which is a cause of great impurity to the blood, and the excretions, thus rendered hard and knotty, act more or less as extraneous substances, and, by their irritation, produce a determination of blood to the intestines and to the neighboring viscera, which ultimately ends in inflammation. It also has a great effect on the whole system; causes a determination of blood to the head, which oppresses the brain, and dejects the mind; deranges the functions of the stomach; causes flatulency; and produces a general state of discomfort." Dr. Combe remarks on this subject: "In the natural and healthy state, under a proper system of diet, and with sufficient exercise, the bowels are relieved regularly, once every day." _Habit_ "is powerful in modifying the result, and in sustaining healthy action when once fairly established. Hence the obvious advantage of observing as much regularity in relieving the system, as in taking our meals." It is often the ease that soliciting nature at a regular period, once a day, will remedy constipation without medicine, and induce a regular and healthy state of the bowels. "When, however, as most frequently happens, the constipation arises from the absence of all assistance from the abdominal and respiratory muscles, the first step to be taken is, again to solicit their aid; first, by removing all impediments to free respiration, such as stays, waistbands, and belts; secondly, by resorting to such active exercise as shall call the muscles into full and regular action; [Footnote: The most effective mode of exercising the abdominal and respiratory muscles, in order to remedy constipation, is by a continuous alternate contraction of the muscles of the abdomen, and diaphragm. By contracting the muscles of the abdomen, the intestines axe pressed inward and upward, and then the muscles of the diaphragm above contract and press them downward and outward. Thus the blood is drawn to the torpid parts to stimulate to the healthful action, while the agitation moves their contents downward. An invalid can thus exercise the abdominal muscles in bed. The proper time is just after a meal. This exercise, continued ten minutes a day, including short intervals of rest, and persevered in for a week or two, will cure most ordinary cases of constipation, provided proper food is taken. Coarse bread and fruit are needed for this purpose in most cases.] and lastly, by proportioning the quantity of food to the wants of the system, and the condition of the digestive organs. "If we employ these means, systematically and perseveringly, we shall rarely fail in at last restoring the healthy action of the bowels, with little aid from medicine. But if we neglect these modes, we may go on for years, adding pill to pill, and dose to dose, without ever attaining the end at which we aim." "There is no point in which a woman needs more knowledge and discretion than in administering remedies for what seem slight attacks, which are not supposed to require the attention of a physician. It is little realized that purgative drugs are unnatural modes of stimulating the internal organs, tending to exhaust them of their secretions, and to debilitate and disturb the animal economy. For this reason, they should be used as little as possible; and fasting, and perspiration, and the other methods pointed out, should always be first resorted to." When medicine must be given, it should be borne in mind that there are various classes of purgatives, which produce very diverse effects. Some, like salts, operate to thin the blood, and reduce the system; others are stimulating; and others have a peculiar operation on certain organs. Of course, great discrimination and knowledge are needed, in order to select the kind which is suitable to the particular disease, or to the particular constitution of the invalid. This shows the folly of using the many kinds of pills, and other quack medicines, where no knowledge can be had of their composition. Pills which are good for one kind of disease, might operate as poison in another state of the system. It is very common in cases of colds, which affect the lungs or throat, to continue to try one dose after another for relief. It will be well to hear in mind at such times, that all which goes into the stomach must be first absorbed into the blood before it can reach the diseased part; and that there is some danger of injuring the stomach, or other parts of the system, by such a variety of doses, many of which, it is probable, will be directly contradictory in their nature, and thus neutralize any supposed benefit they might separately impart. When a cold affects the head and eyes, and also impedes breathing through the nose, great relief is gained by a wet napkin spread over the upper part of the face, covering the nose except an opening for breath. This is to be covered by folds of flannel fastened over the napkin with a handkerchief. So also a wet towel over the throat and whole chest, covered with folds of flannel, often relieves oppressed lungs. Ordinarily, a cold can be arrested on its first symptoms by coverings in bed and a bottle of hot water, securing free perspiration. Often, at its first appearance, it can be stopped by a spoonful or two of whisky, or any alcoholic liquor, in hot water, taken on going to bed. Warm covering to induce perspiration will assist the process. These simple remedies are safest. Perspiration should always be followed by a towel-bath. It is very unwise to tempt the appetite of a person who is indisposed. The cessation of appetite is the warning of nature that the system is in such a state that food can not be digested. When food is to be given to one who has no desire for it, beef-tea is the best in most cases. The following suggestions may be found useful in regard to nursing the sick. As nothing contributes more to the restoration of health than pure air, it should be a primary object to keep a sick-room well ventilated. At least twice in the twenty-four hours, the patient should be well covered, and fresh air freely admitted from out of doors. After this, if need be, the room should be restored to a proper temperature, by the aid of an open fire. Bedding and clothing should also be well aired, and frequently changed; as the exhalations from the body, in sickness, are peculiarly deleterious. Frequent ablutions of the whole body, if possible, are very useful; and for these, warm water may be employed, when cold water is disagreeable. A sick-room should always be kept very neat and in perfect order; and all haste, noise, and bustle should be avoided. In order to secure neatness, order, and quiet, in case of long illness, the following arrangement should be made. Keep a large box for fuel, which will need to be filled only twice in twenty-four hours. Provide also and keep in the room or an adjacent closet, a small, tea-kettle, a saucepan, a pail of water for drinks and ablutions, a pitcher, a covered porringer, two pint bowls, two tumblers, two cups and saucers, two wine-glasses, two large and two small spoons; also a dish in which to wash these articles; a good supply of towels and a broom. Keep a slop-bucket near by to receive the wash of the room. Procuring all these articles at once, will save much noise and confusion. Whenever medicine or food is given, spread a clean towel over the person or bed-clothing, and get a clean handkerchief, as nothing is more annoying to a weak stomach than the stickiness and soiling produced by medicine and food. Keep the fire-place neat, and always wash all articles and put them in order as soon as they are out of use. A sick person has nothing to do but look about the room; and when every thing is neat and in order, a feeling of comfort is induced, while disorder, filth, and neglect are constant objects of annoyance which, if not complained of, are yet felt. One very important particular in the case of those who are delicate in constitution, as well as in the case of the sick, is the preservation of warmth, especially in the hands and the feet. The _equal_ circulation of the blood is an important element for good health, and this is impossible when the extremities are habitually or frequently cold. It is owing to this fact that the coldness caused by wetting the feet is so injurious. In cases where disease or a weak constitution causes a feeble or imperfect circulation, great pains should be taken to dress the feet and hands warmly, especially around the wrists and ankles, where the blood-vessels are nearest to the surface and thus most exposed to cold. Warm elastic wristlets and anklets would save many a feeble person from increasing decay or disease. When the circulation is feeble from debility or disease, the union of carbon and oxygen in the capillaries is slower than in health, and therefore care should be taken to preserve the heat thus generated by warm clothing and protection from cold draughts. In nervous debility, it is peculiarly important to preserve the animal heat, for its excessive loss especially affects weak nerves. Many an invalid is carelessly and habitually suffering cold feet, who would recover health by proper care to preserve animal heat, especially in the extremities. The following are useful directions for dressing a blister. Spread thinly, on a linen cloth, an ointment composed of one third of beeswax to two thirds of tallow; lay this upon a linen cloth folded many times. With a sharp pair of scissors make an aperture in the lower part of the blister-bag, with a little hole above to give it vent. Break the raised skin as little as possible. Lay on the cloth spread as directed. The blister at first should be dressed as often as three times in a day, and the dressing renewed each time. Hot fomentations in most cases will be as good as a blister, less painful, and safer. Always prepare food for the sick in the neatest and most careful manner. It is in sickness that the senses of smell and taste are most susceptible of annoyance; and often, little mistakes or negligences in preparing food will take away all appetite. Food for the sick should be cooked on coals, that no smoke may have access to it; and great care must be taken to prevent, by stirring, any adherence to the bottom of the cooking vessel, as this always gives a disagreeable taste. Keeping clean handkerchiefs and towels at hand, cooling the pillows, sponging the hands with water, (with care to dry them thoroughly,) swabbing the mouth with a clean linen rag on the end of a stick, are modes of increasing the comfort of the sick. Always throw a shawl over a sick person when raised up. Be careful to understand a physician's directions, and _to obey them implicitly_. If it be supposed that any other person knows better about the case than the physician, dismiss the physician, and employ that person in his stead. It is always best to consult the physician as to where medicines shall be purchased, and to show the articles to him before using them, as great impositions are practiced in selling old, useless, and adulterated drugs. Always put labels on vials of medicine, and keep them out of the reach of children. Be careful to label all powders, and particularly all _white powders_, as many poisonous medicines in this form are easily mistaken for others which are harmless. In nursing the sick, always speak gently and cheeringly; and, while you express sympathy for their pain and trials, stimulate them to bear sill with fortitude, and with resignation to the Heavenly Father who "doth not willingly afflict," and "who causeth all things to work together for good to them that love him." Offer to read the Bible or other devotional books, whenever it is suitable, and will not be deemed obtrusive. Miss Ann Preston, one of the most refined as well as talented and learned female physicians, in a published article, gives valuable instruction as to the training, of nurses. She claims that every woman should be trained for this office, and that some who have special traits that fit them for it should make it their daily professional business. She remarks that the indispensable qualities in a good nurse are common sense, conscientiousness, and sympathetic benevolence: and thus continues: "God himself made and commissioned one set of nurses; and in doing this and adapting them to utter helplessness and weakness, what did he do? He made them to love the dependence and to see something to admire in the very perversities of their charge. He made them to humor the caprices and regard both reasonable and unreasonable complainings. He made them to bend tenderly over the disturbed and irritated, and fold them to quiet assurance in arms made soft with love; in a word, he made _mothers!_ And, other things being equal, whoever has most maternal tenderness and warm sympathy with the sufferer is the best nurse." And it is those most nearly endowed by nature with these traits who should be selected to be trained for the sacred office of nurse to the sick, while, in all the moral training of womanhood, this ideal should be the aim. Again, Miss Preston wisely suggests that "persons may be conscientious and benevolent and possess good judgment in many respects, and yet be miserable nurses of the sick for want of training and right knowledge. "_Knowledge_, the assurance that one knows what to do, always gives _presence of mind_--and presence of mind is important not only in a sick-room but in every home. Who has not known consternation in a family when some one has fainted, or been burned, or cut, while none were present who knew how to stop the flowing blood, or revive the fainting, or apply the saving application to the burn? And yet knowledge and efficiency in such cases would save many a life, and be a most fitting and desirable accomplishment in every woman." "We are slow to learn the mighty influence of common agencies, and the greatness of little things, in their bearing upon life and health. The woman who believes it takes no strength to bear a little noise or some disagreeable announcements, and loses patience with the weak, nervous invalid who is agonized with creaking doors or shoes, or loud, shrill voices, or rustling papers, or sharp, fidgety motions, or the whispering so common in sick-rooms and often so acutely distressing to the sufferer, will soon correct such misapprehensions by herself experiencing a nervous fever." Here the writer would put in a plea for the increasing multitudes of nervous sufferers not confined to a sick-room, and yet exposed to all the varied sources of pain incident to an exhausted nervous system, which often cause more intolerable and also more wearing pain than other kinds of suffering. "An exceeding acuteness of the senses is the result of many forms of nervous disease. A heavy breath, an unwashed hand, a noise that would not have been noticed in health, a crooked table-cover or bed-spread may disturb or oppress; and more than one invalid has spoken in my hearing of the sickening effect produced by the nurse tasting her food, or blowing in her drinks to make them cool. One woman, and a sensible woman too, told me her nurse had turned a large cushion upon her bureau with the back part in front. She determined not to be disturbed nor to speak of such a trifle, but after struggling _three hours_ in vain to banish the annoyance, she was forced to ask to have the cushion placed right." In this place should be mentioned the suffering caused to persons of reduced nervous power not only by the smoke of tobacco, but by the fetid effluvium of it from the breath and clothing of persons who smoke. Many such are sickened in society and in car-traveling, and to a degree little imagined by those who gain a dangerous pleasure at the frequent expense of the feeble and suffering. Miss Preston again remarks, "It is often exceedingly important to the very weak, who can take but very little nutriment, to have that little whenever they want it. I have known invalids sustain great injury and suffering; when exhausted for want of food, they have had to wait and wait, feeling as if every minute was an hour, while some well-fed nurse delayed its coming. Said a lady, 'It makes me hungry now to think of the meals she brought me upon that little waiter when I was sick, such brown thin toast, such good broiled beef, such fragrant tea, and every thing looking so exquisitely nice! If at any time I did not think of any thing I wanted, nor ask for food, she did not annoy me with questions, but brought some little delicacy at the proper time, and when it came, I could take it.' "If there is one purpose of a personal kind for which it is especially desirable to lay up means, it is for being well nursed in sickness; yet in the present state of society, this is absolutely impossible, even to the wealthy, because of the scarcity of competent nurses. Families worn down with the long and extreme illness of a member require relief from one whose feelings will be less taxed, and who can better endure the labor. "But alas! how often is it impossible, for love or money, to obtain one capable of taking the burden from the exhausted sister or mother or daughter, and how often in consequence they have died prematurely or struggled through weary years with a broken constitution. Appeal to those who have made the trial, and you will find that very seldom have they been able to have those who by nature or by training were competent for their duties. Ignorant, unscrupulous, inattentive--how often they disturb and injure the patient! A physician told me that one of his patients had died because the nurse, contrary to orders, had at a critical period washed her with cold water. I have known one who, by stealth, quieted a fretful child with laudanum, and of others who exhausted the sick by incessant talking. One lady said that when, to escape this distressing garrulity, she closed her eyes, the nurse exclaimed aloud, 'Why, she is going to sleep while I am talking to her.' "A few only of the sensible, quiet, and loving women, whose presence everywhere is a blessing, have qualified themselves and followed nursing as a business. Heaven bless that few! What a sense of relief have I seen pervade a family when such a one has been procured; and what a treasure seemed found! "There is very commonly an extreme susceptibility in the sick to the _moral atmosphere_ about them. They feel the healthful influence of the presence of a true-hearted attendant and repose in it, though they may not be able to define the cause; while dissimulation, falsehood, recklessness, coarseness, jar terribly and injuriously on their heightened sensibilities. 'Are the Sisters of Charity really better nurses than most other women?' I asked an intelligent lady who had seen much of our military hospitals. 'Yes, they are,' was her reply. 'Why should it be so?' 'I think it is because with them it is a work of self-abnegation, and of duty to God, and they are so quiet and self-forgetful in its exercise that they do it better, while many other women show such self-consciousness and are so fussy!" Is there any reason why every Protestant woman should not be trained for this self-denying office as _a duty owed to God?_ We can not better close this chapter than by one more quotation from the same intelligent and attractive writer: "The good nurse is an artist. O the pillowy, soothing softness of her touch, the neatness of her simple, unrustling dress, the music of her assured yet gentle voice and tread, the sense of security and rest inspired by her kind and hopeful face, the promptness and attention to every want, the repose that like an atmosphere encircles her, the evidence of heavenly goodness, and love that she diffuses!" Is not such an art as this worth much to attain? In training children to the Christian life, one very important opportunity occurs whenever sickness appears, in the family or neighborhood. The repression of disturbing noises, the speaking in tones of gentleness and sympathy, the small offices of service or nursing in which children can aid, should be inculcated as ministering to the Lord and Elder Brother of man, who has said, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it to me." One of the blessed opportunities for such ministries is given to children in the cultivation of flowers. The entrance into a sick-room of a smiling, healthful child, bringing an offering of flowers raised by its own labor, is like an angel of comfort and love, "and alike it blesseth him who gives and him who takes." A time is coming when the visitation of the sick, as a part of the Christian life, will hold a higher consideration than is now generally accorded, especially in the cases of uninteresting sufferers who have nothing to attract kind attentions, except that they are suffering children of our Father in heaven, and "one of the least" of the brethren of Jesus Christ. CHAPTER XXVII. ACCIDENTS AND ANTIDOTES. Children should be taught the following modes of saving life, health and limbs in cases of sudden emergency, before a medical adviser can be summoned. In case of a common cut, bind the lips of the wound together with a rag, and put on nothing else. If it is large, lay narrow strips of sticking-plaster obliquely across the wound. In some cases it is needful to draw a needle and thread through the lips of the wound, and tie the two sides together. If an artery be cut, it must be tied as quickly as possible, or the person will soon bleed to death. The blood from an artery is a brighter red than that from the veins, and spirts out in jets at each beat of the heart. Take hold of the end of the artery and tie it or hold it tight till a surgeon comes. In this case, and in all cases of bad wounds that bleed much, tie a tight bandage near and above the wound, inserting a stick into the bandage and twisting as tight as can be borne, to stop the immediate effusion of blood. Bathe bad bruises in hot water. Arnica water hastens a cure, but is injurious and weakening to the parts when used too long and too freely. A sprain is relieved from the first pains by hot fomentations, or the application of very hot bandages, but entire rest is the chief permanent remedy. The more the limb is used, especially at first, the longer the time required for the small broken fibres to knit together. The sprained leg should be kept in a horizontal position. When a leg is broken, tie it to the other leg, to keep it still till a surgeon comes. Tie a broken arm to a piece of thin wood, to keep it still till set. In the case of bad burns that take off the skin, creosote water is the best remedy. If this is not at hand, wood-soot (not coal) pounded, sifted, and mixed with lard is nearly as good, as such soot contains creosote. When a dressing is put on, do not remove it till a skin is formed under it. If nothing else is at hand for a bad burn, sprinkle flour over the place where the skin is off and then let it remain, protected by a bandage. The chief aim is to keep the part without skin from the air. In case of drowning, the aim should be to clear the throat, mouth and nostrils, and then produce the natural action of the lungs in breathing as soon as possible, at the same time removing wet clothes and applying warmth and friction to the skin, especially the hands and feet, to start the circulation. The best mode of cleansing the throat and month of choking water is to lay the person on the face, and raise the head a little, clearing the mouth and nostrils with the finger, and then apply hartshorn or camphor to the nose. This is safer and surer than a common mode of lifting the body by the feet, or rolling on a barrel to empty out the water. To start the action of the lungs, first lay the person on the face and press the back along the spine to expel all air from the lungs. Then turn the body nearly, but not quite over on to the back, thus opening the chest so that the air will rush in if the mouth is kept open. Then turn the body to the face again and expel the air, and then again nearly over on to the back; and so continue for a long time. Friction, dry and warm clothing, and warm applications should be used in connection with this process. This is a much better mode than using bellows, which sometimes will close the opening to the windpipe. The above is the mode recommended by Dr. Marshall Hall, and is approved by the best medical authorities. Certain articles are often kept in the house for cooking or medical purposes, and sometimes by mistake are taken in quantities that are poisonous. _Soda, saleratus, potash,_ or any other alkali can be rendered harmless in the stomach by vinegar, tomato-juice, or any other acid. If sulphuric or oxalic acid are taken, pounded chalk in water is the best antidote. If those are not at hand, strong soapsuds have been found effective. Large quantities of tepid water should be drank after these antidotes are taken, so as to produce vomiting. _Lime_ or _baryta_ and its compounds demand a solution of glauber salts or of sulphuric acid. _Iodine_ or _Iodide of Potassium_ demands large draughts of wheat flour or starch in water, and then vinegar and water. The stomach should then be emptied by vomiting with as much tepid water as the stomach can hold. _Prussic acid_, a violent poison, is sometimes taken by children in eating the pits of stone fruits or bitter almonds which contain it. The antidote is to empty the stomach by an emetic, and give water of ammonia or chloric water. Affusions of cold water all over the body, followed by warm hand friction, is often a remedy alone, but the above should be added if at command. _Antimony_ and its compounds demand drinks of oak bark, or gall nuts, or very strong green tea. _Arsenic_ demands oil or melted fat, with magnesia or lime water in large quantities, till vomiting occurs. _Corrosive Sublimate_, (often used to kill vermin,) and any other form of mercury, requires milk or whites of eggs in large quantities. The whites of twelve eggs in two quarts of water, given in the largest possible draughts every three minutes till free vomiting occurs, is a good remedy. Flour and water will answer, though not so surely as the above. Warm water will help, if nothing else is in reach. The same remedy answers when any form of copper, or tin, or zinc poison is taken, and also for creosote. _Lead_ and its compounds require a dilution of Epsom or Glauber salts, or some strong, acid drink, as lemon or tomatoes. _Nitrate of Silver_ demands salt water drank till vomiting occurs. _Phosphorus_ (sometimes taken by children from matches) needs magnesia and copious drinks of gum Arabic, or gum water of any sort. _Alcohol_, in dangerous quantities, demands vomiting with warm water. When one is violently sick from excessive use of _tobacco_, vomiting is a relief, if it arise spontaneously. After that, or in case it does not occur, the juice of a lemon and perfect rest, in a horizontal position on the back, will relieve the nausea and faintness, generally soothing the foolish and over-wrought patient into a sleep. _Opium_ demands a quick emetic. The best is a heaping table-spoonful of powdered mustard, in a tumblerful of warm water; or powdered alum in half-ounce doses and strong coffee alternately in warm water. Give acid drinks after vomiting. If vomiting is not elicited thus, a stomach pump is demanded. Dash cold water on the head, apply friction, and use all means to keep the person awake and in motion. _Strychnia_ demands also quick emetics. The stomach should be emptied always after taking any of these antidotes, by a warm water emetic. In case of bleeding at the lungs, or stomach, or throat, give a tea-spoonful of dry salt, and repeat it often. For bleeding at the nose, put ice, or pour cold water on the back of the neck, keeping the head elevated. If a person be struck with lightning, throw pailfuls of cold water on the head and body, and apply mustard poultices on the stomach, with friction of the whole body and inflation of the lungs, as in the case of drowning. The same mode is to be used when persons are stupefied by fumes of coal, or bad air. In thunderstorms, shut the doors and windows. The safest part of a room is its centre; and where there is a feather-bed in the apartment, that will be found the most secure resting-place. A lightning-rod if it be well pointed, and run deep into the earth, is a certain protection to a circle, around it, whose diameter equals the height of the rod above the highest chimney. But it protects _no farther_ than this extent. In case of fire, wrap about you a blanket, a shawl, a piece of carpet, or any other woolen cloth, to serve as protection. Never read in bed, lest you fall asleep, and the bed be set on fire. If your clothes get on fire, never run, but lie down, and roll about till you can reach a bed or carpet to wrap yourself in, and thus put out the fire. Keep young children in woolen dresses, to save them from the risk of fire. XXVIII. SEWING, CUTTING, AND MENDING. Every young girl should be taught to do the following kinds of stitch with propriety: Over-stitch, hemming, running, felling, stitching, back-stitch and run, buttonhole-stitch, chain-stitch, whipping, darning, gathering, and cross-stitch. In doing over-stitch, the edges should always be first fitted, either with pins or basting, to prevent puckering. In turning wide hems, a paper measure should be used, to make them even. Tucks, also, should be regulated by a paper measure. A fell should be turned, before the edges are put together, and the seam should be over-sewed before felling. All biased or goring seams should be felled, for stitching, draw a thread, and take up two or three threads at a stitch. In cutting buttonholes, it is best to have a pair of scissors, made for the purpose, which cut very neatly. For broadcloth, a chisel and board are better. The best stitch is made by putting in the needle, and then turning the thread round it near the eye. This is better than to draw the needle through, and then take up a loop. A stay thread should first be put across each side of the buttonhole, and also a bar at each end before working it. In working the buttonhole, keep the stay thread as far from the edge as possible. A small bar should be worked at each end. Whipping is done better by sewing _over_, and not under. The roll should be as fine as possible, the stitches short, the thread strong, and in sewing, every gather should be taken up. The rule for _gathering_ in shirts is, to draw a thread, and then take up two threads and skip four. In _darning_, after the perpendicular threads are run, the crossing threads should interlace exactly, taking one thread and leaving one, like woven threads. It is better to run a fine thread around a hole and draw it together, and then darn across it. The neatest sewers always fit and baste their work before sewing; and they say they always save time in the end by so doing, as they never have to pick out work on account of mistakes. It is wise to sew closely and tightly all new garments which will never be altered in shape; but some are more nice than wise, in sewing frocks and old garments in the same style. However, this is the least common extreme. It is much more frequently the case that articles which ought to be strongly and neatly made are sewed so that a nice sewer would rather pick out the threads and sew over again than to be annoyed with the sight of grinning stitches, and vexed with constant rips. If the thread kinks in sewing, break it off and begin at the other end. In using spool-cotton, thread the needle with the end which comes off first, and not the end where you break it off. This often prevents kinks. _Work-baskets_.--It is very important to neatness, comfort, and success in sewing, that a lady's work-basket should be properly fitted up. The following articles are needful to the mistress of a family: a large basket to hold work; having in it fastened a smaller basket or box, containing a needle-book in which are needles of every size, both blunts and sharps, with a larger number of those sizes most used; also small and large darning-needles, for woolen, cotton, and silk; two tape needles, large and small; nice scissors for fine work, button-hole scissors; an emery bag; two balls of white and yellow wax; and two thimbles, in case one should be mislaid. When a person is troubled with damp fingers, a lump of soft chalk in a paper is useful to rub on the ends of the fingers. Besides this box, keep in the basket common scissors; small shears; a bag containing tapes of all colors and sizes, done up in rolls; bags, one containing spools of white and another of colored cotton thread, and another for silks wound on spools or papers; a box or bag for nice buttons, and another for more common ones; a hag containing silk braid, welting cords, and galloon binding. Small rolls of pieces of white and brown linen and cotton are also often needed. A brick pin-cushion is a great convenience in sewing, and better than screw cushions. It is made by covering half a brick with cloth, putting a cushion on the top, and covering it tastefully. It is very useful to hold pins and needles while sewing, and to fasten long seams when basting and sewing. _To make a Frock_.--The best way for a novice is to get a dress fitted (not sewed) at the best mantua-maker's. Then take out a sleeve, rip it to pieces, and cut out a paper pattern. Then take out half of the waist, (it must have a seam in front,) and cut out a pattern of the back and fore-body, both lining and outer part. In cutting the patterns, iron the pieces smooth, let the paper be stiff, and with a pin; prick holes in the paper, to show the gore in front and the depths of the seams. With a pen and ink, draw lines from each pin-hole to preserve this mark. Then baste the parts together again, in doing which the unbasted half will serve as a pattern. When this is done, a lady of common ingenuity can cut and fit a dress by these patterns. If the waist of a dress be too tight, the seam under the arm must be let out; and in cutting a dress an allowance should be made for letting it out if needful, at this seam. The linings for the waists of dresses should be stiffened with cotton or linen. In cutting bias-pieces for trimming, they will not set well unless they are exact. In cutting them use a long rule, and a lead pencil or piece of chalk. Welting-cords should be covered with bias-pieces; and it saves time, in many cases, to baste on the welting-cord at the same time that you cover it. The best way, to put on hooks and eyes is to sew thorn on double broad tape, and sew this on the frock lining. They can be moved easily, and do not show where they are sewed on. In putting on linings of skirts at the bottom, be careful to have it a very little fuller than the dress, or it will shrink and look badly. All thin silks look much better with lining, and last much longer, as do aprons also. In putting a lining to a dress, baste it on each separate breadth, and sew it at the seams, and it looks much better than to have it fastened only at the bottom. Hake notches in selvedge, to prevent it from drawing up the breadth. Dresses which are to be washed should not be lined. Figured silks do not generally wear well if the figure be large and satin-like. Black and plain-colored silks can be tested by procuring samples, and making creases in them; fold the creases in a bunch, and rub them against a rough surface of moreen or carpeting. Those which are poor will soon wear off at the creases. Plaids look becoming for tall women, as they shorten the appearance of the figure. Stripes look becoming on a large person, as they reduce the apparent size. Pale, persons should not wear blue or green, and brunettes should not wear light delicate colors, except shades of buff, fawn, or straw color. Pearl white is not good for any complexion. Dead white and black look becoming on almost all persons. It is best to try colors by candle-light for evening dresses, as some colors which look very handsome in the daylight are very homely when seen by candle-light. Never be in haste to be first in a fashion, and never go to the extremes. _Linen and Cotton_.--In buying linen, seek for that which has a round close thread and is perfectly white; for if it be not white at first, it will never afterward become so. Much that is called linen at the shops is half cotton, and does not wear so well as cotton alone. Cheap linens are usually of this kind. It is difficult to discover which are all linen; but the best way is to find a lot presumed to be good, take a sample, wash it, and ravel it. If this be good, the rest of the same lot will probably be so. If you can not do this, draw a thread each way, and if both appear equally strong it is probably all linen. Linen and cotton must be put in clean water, and boiled, to get out the starch, and then ironed. A "long piece" of linen, a yard wide, will, with care and calculation, make eight shirts. In cutting it, take a shirt of the right size as a guide in fitting and basting. Bosom-pieces and false collars must be cut and fitted by patterns which suit the person for whom, the articles are designed. Gentlemen's night-shirts are made like other shirts, except that they are longer, and do not have bosoms and cuffs for starching. In cutting chemises, if the cotton or linen is a yard wide, cut off small half-gores at the top of the breadths and set them on the bottom. Use a long rule and a pencil in cutting gores. In cutting cotton winch is quite wide, a seam can be saved by cutting out two at once, in this manner: cut off three breadths, and with a long rule and a pencil, mark and cut off the gores; thus from one breadth cut off two gores the whole length, each gore one fourth of the breadth at the bottom, and tapering off to a point at the top. The other two breadths are to have a gore cut off from each, which is one fourth wide at the top and two fourths at bottom. Arrange these pieces right and they will make two chemises, one having four seams and the other three. This is a much easier way of cutting than sewing the three breadths together in bag fashion, as is often done. The biased or goring seams must always be felled. The sleeves and neck can be cut according to the taste of the wearer, by another, chemise for a pattern. There should be a lining around the armholes and stays at all corners. Six yards of yard width will make two chemises. Long night-gowns are best cut a little goring. It requires five yards for a long night-gown, and two and a half for a short one. Linen night caps wear longer than cotton ones, and do not like them turn yellow. They should be ruffled with linen, as cotton borders will not last so long as the cap. A double-quilted wrapper is a great comfort, in case of sickness. It may be made of two old dresses. It should not be cut full, but rather like a gentleman's study-gown, having no gathers or plaits, but large enough to slip off and on with ease. A double-gown of calico is also very useful. Most articles of dress, for grown persons or children, require patterns. Old silk dresses quilted for skirts are very serviceable, White flannel is soiled so easily and shrinks so much in washing that it is a good plan to color it. Cotton flannel is also good for common skirts. In making up flannel, back-stitch and run the seams and then cross-stitch them open. Nice flannel for infants can be ornamented with very little expense of time, by turning up the hem on the right side and making a little vine at the edge with saddler's silk The stitch of the vine is a modification of button-hole stitch. _Mending_. Silk dresses will last much longer, by ripping out the sleeves when thin, and changing the arms and also the breadths of the skirt. Tumbled black silk, which is old and rusty, should be dipped in water, then be drained for a few minutes, without squeezing or pressing, and then ironed. Coffee or cold tea is better than water. Sheets when worn thin in the middle should be ripped, and the other edges sewed together. Window-curtains last much longer if lined, as the sun fades and rots them. Broadcloth should be cut with reference to the way the nap runs. When pantaloons are thin, it is best to newly seat them, cutting the piece inserted in a curve, as corners are difficult to fit. Hose can be cut down when the feet are worn. Take an old stocking and cut it up for a pattern. Make the heel short. In sewing, turn each edge and run it down, and then sew over the edges. This is better than to stitch and then cross-stitch. "Run" thin places in stockings, and it will save darning a hole. If shoes are worn through on the sides, in the upper-leather, slip pieces of broadcloth under, and sew them around the holes. _Bedding_. The best beds are thick hair mattresses, which for persons in health are good for winter as well as summer use. Mattresses may also be made of husks, dried and drawn into shreds; also of alternate layers of cotton and moss. The most profitable sheeting is the Russian, which will last three times as long as any other. It is never perfectly white. Unbleached cotton is good for winter. It is poor economy to make narrow and short sheets, as children and domestics will always slip them off, and soil the bed-tick and bolster. They should be three yards long, and two and a half wide, so that they can be tucked in all around. All bed- linen should be marked and numbered, so that a bed can always be made properly, and all missing articles be known. XXIX. FIRES AND LIGHTS. A shallow fireplace saves wood and gives out more heat than a deeper one. A false back of brick may be put up in a deep fireplace. Hooks for holding up the shovel and tongs, a hearth-brush and bellows, and brass knobs to hang them on, should be furnished to every fireplace. An iron bar across the andirons aids in keeping the fire safe and in good order. Steel furniture is neater, handsomer, and more easily kept in order than that made of brass. Use green wood for logs, and mix green and dry wood for the fire; and then the wood-pile will last much longer. Walnut, maple, hickory, and oak wood are best; chestnut or hemlock is bad, because it snaps. Do not buy a load in which there are many crooked sticks. Learn how to measure and calculate the solid contents of a load, so as not to be cheated. A cord of wood should be equivalent to a pile eight feet long, four feet wide and four feet high; that is, it contains (8 X 4 X 4 = 128) one hundred and twenty-eight cubic or solid feet. A city "load" is usually one third of a cord. Have all your wood split and piled under cover for winter. Have the green wood logs in one pile, dry wood in another, oven wood in another, kindlings and chips in another, and a supply of charcoal to use for broiling and ironing in another place. Have a brick bin for ashes, and never allow them to be put in wood. When quitting fires at night, never leave a burning stick across the andirons, nor on its end, without quenching it. See that no fire adheres to the broom or brush, remove all articles from the fire, and have two pails filled with water in the kitchen where they will not freeze. STOVES AND GRATES. Rooms heated by stoves should always have some opening for the admission of fresh air, or they will be injurious to health. The dryness of the air, which they occasion, should be remedied by placing a vessel filled with water on the stove, otherwise, the lungs or eyes will be injured. A large number of plants in a room prevents this dryness of the air. Where stove-pipes pass through fire-boards, the hole in the wood should be much larger than the pipe, so that there may be no danger of the wood taking fire. The unsightly opening thus occasioned should be covered with tin. When pipes are carried through floors or partitions, they should always pass either through earthen crocks, or what are known as tin stove-pipe thimbles, which may be found in any stove store or tinsmith's. Lengthening a pipe will increase its draught. For those who use _anthracite_ coal, that which is broken or screened is best for grates, and the nut-coal for small stoves. Three tons are sufficient in the Middle States, and four tons in the Northern, to keep one fire through the winter. That which is bright, hard, and clean is best; and that which is soft, porous, and covered with damp dust is poor. It will be well to provide two barrels of charcoal for kindling to every ton of anthracite coal. Grates for _bituminous coal_ should have a flue nearly as deep as the grate; and the bars should be round and not close together. The better draught there is, the less coal-dust is made. Every grate should be furnished with a poker, shovel, tongs, blower, coal-scuttle, and holder for the blower. The latter may be made of woolen, covered with old silk; and hung near the fire. Coal-stoves should be carefully put up, as cracks in the pipe, especially in sleeping rooms, are dangerous. LIGHTS Professor Phin, of the _Manufacturer and Builder_, has kindly given us some late information on this important topic, which will be found valuable. In choosing the source of our light, the great points to be considered are, first, the influence on the eyes, and secondly, economy. It is poor economy to use a bad light. Modern houses in cities, and even in large villages, are furnished with gas; where gas is not used, sperm-oil, kerosene or coal-oil, and candles are employed. Gas is the cheapest, (or ought to be;) and if properly used, is as good as any. Good sperm-oil burned in an Argand lamp--that is, a lamp with a circular wick, like the astral lamp and others--is perhaps the best; but it is expensive and attended with many inconveniences. Good kerosene oil gives a light which leaves little to be desired. Candles are used only on rare occasions, though many families prefer to manufacture into candles the waste grease that accumulates in the household. The economy of any source of light will depend so much upon local circumstances that no absolute directions can be given. The effect produced by light on the eyes depends upon the following points: First, _Steadiness_. Nothing is more injurious to the eyes than a flickering, unsteady flame. Hence, all flames used for light-giving purposes ought to be surrounded with glass chimneys or small shades. No naked flame can ever be steady. Second, _Color_. This depends greatly upon the temperature of the flame. A hot flame gives a bright, white light; a flame which has not a high temperature gives a dull, yellow light, which is very injurious to the eyes. In the naked gas-jet a large portion of the flame burns at a low temperature, and the same is the case with the flame of the kerosene lamp when the height of the chimney is not properly proportioned to the amount of oil consumed; a high wick needs a high chimney. In the case of a well-trimmed Argand oil-lamp, or an Argand burner for gas, the flame is in general most intensely hot, and the light is of a clear white character. The third point which demands attention is the _amount of heat_ transmitted from the flame to the eyes. It often happens that people, in order to economize light, bring the lamp quite close to the face. This is a very bad habit. The heat is more injurious than the light. Better burn a larger flame, and keep it at a greater distance. It is also well that various sized lamps should be provided to serve the varying necessities of the household in regard to quantity of light. One of the very best forms of lamp is that known as the "student's reading-lamp," which is, in the burner, an Argand. Provide small lamps with handles for carrying about, and broad-bottomed lamps for the kitchen, as these are not easily upset. Hand and kitchen lamps are best made of metal, unless they are to be used by very careful persons. Sperm-oil, lard, tallow, etc., have been superseded to such an extent by kerosene that it is scarcely worth while to give any special directions in regard to them. In the choice of kerosene, attention should be paid to two points: its _safety_ and its _light-giving qualities_. Kerosene is not a simple fluid, like water; but is a mixture of several liquids, all of which boil at different temperatures. Good kerosene oil should be purified from all that portion which boils or evaporates at a low temperature; for it is the production of this vapor, and its mixture with atmospheric air, that gives rise to those terrible explosions which sometimes occur when a light is brought near a can of poor oil. To test the oil in this respect, pour a little into an iron spoon, and heat it over a lamp until it is moderately warm to the touch. If the oil produces vapor which can be set on fire by means of a flame held a short distance above the surface of the liquid, it is bad. Good oil poured into a teacup or on the floor does not easily take fire when a light is brought in contact with it. Poor oil will instantly ignite under the same circumstances, and hence, the breaking of a lamp filled with poor oil is always attended by great peril of a conflagration. Not only the safety but also the light-giving qualities of kerosene are greatly enhanced by the removal of these volatile and dangerous oils. Hence, while good kerosene should be clear in color and free from all matters which can gum up the wick and thus interfere with free circulation and combustion, it should also be perfectly safe. It ought to be kept in a cool, dark place, and carefully excluded from the air. The care of lamps requires so much attention and discretion, that many ladies choose to do this work themselves, rather than trust it with domestics. To do it properly, provide the following things: an old waiter to hold all the articles used; a lamp-filler, with a spout, small at the end, and turned up to prevent oil from dripping; proper wicks, and a basket or box to hold them; a lamp-trimmer made for the purpose, or a pair of _sharp_ scissors; a small soap-cup and soap; some washing soda in a broad-mouthed bottle; and several soft cloths to wash the articles and towels to wipe them. If every thing, after being used, is cleansed from oil and then kept neatly, it will not be so unpleasant a task as it usually is, to take care of lamps. The inside of lamps and oil-cans should be cleansed with soda dissolved in water. Be careful to drain them well, and not to let any gilding or bronze be injured by the soda coming in contact with it. Put one table-spoonful of soda to one quart of water. Take the lamp to pieces and clean it as often as necessary. Wipe the chimney at least once a day, and wash it whenever mere wiping fails to cleanse it. Some persons, owing to the dirty state of their chimneys, lose half the light which is produced. Keep dry fingers in trimming lamps. Renew the wicks before they get too short. They should never be allowed to burn shorter than an inch and a half. In regard to _shades_, which are always well to use, on lamps or gas, those made of glass or porcelain are now so cheap that we can recommend them as the best without any reservation. Plain shades, making the light soft and even, do not injure the eyes. Lamps should be lighted with a strip of folded or rolled paper, of which a quantity should be kept on the mantelpiece. Weak eyes should always be especially shaded from the lights. Small screens, made for the purpose, should be kept at hand. A person with weak eyes can use them safely much longer when they are protected from the glare of the light. Fill the entry-lamp every day, and cleanse and fill night-lanterns twice a week, if used often. A good night-lamp is made with a small one-wicked lamp and a roll of tin to set over it. Have some holes made in the bottom of this cover, and it can then be used to heat articles. Very cheap floating tapers can he bought to burn in a teacup of oil through the night. TO MAKE CANDLES. The nicest candles are those run in moulds. For this purpose, melt together one quarter of a pound of white wax, one quarter of an ounce of camphor, two ounces of alum, and ten ounces of suet or mutton-tallow. Soak the wicks in lime-water and saltpetre, and when dry, fix them in the moulds and pour in the melted tallow. Let them remain one night to cool; then warm them a little to loosen them, draw them out, and when they are hard, put them in a box in a dry and cool place. To make dipped candles, cut the wicks of the right length, double them over rods, and twist them. They should first be dipped in lime-water or vinegar, and dried. Melt the tallow in a large kettle, filling it to the top with hot water, when the tallow is melted. Put in wax and powdered alum, to harden them. Keep the tallow hot over a portable furnace, and fill the kettle with hot water as fast as the tallow is used up. Lay two long strips of narrow board on which to hang the rods; and set flat pans under, on the floor, to catch the grease. Take several rods at once, and wet the wicks in the tallow; straighten and smooth them when cool. Then dip them as fast as they cool, until they become of the proper size. Plunge them obliquely and not perpendicularly; and when the bottoms are too large, hold them in the hot grease till a part melts off. Let them remain one night to cool; then cut off the bottoms, and keep them in a dry, cool place. Cheap lights are made, by dipping rushes in tallow; the rushes being first stripped of nearly the whole of the hard outer covering and the pith alone being retained with just enough of the tough bark to keep it stiff. XXX. THE CARE OF ROOMS. It would be impossible in a work dealing, as this does, with general principles of house-keeping, to elaborate in full the multitudinous details which arise for attention and intelligent care. These will be more largely treated of in the book soon to be published for the present writer, (the senior authoress of this volume.) Yet, in the different departments of family labor, there are certain leading matters concerning which a few hints may be found useful in aiding the reader to carry into operation the instructions and ideas of the earlier chapters of this book, and in promoting the general comfort and convenience of families. And first, asking the reader to bear in mind that these suggestions are chiefly applicable to country homes, not within easy reach of all the conveniences which go under the name of "modern improvements," we will say a few words on the care of _Parlors_. In hanging pictures, put them so that the lower part shall be opposite the eye. Cleanse the glass of pictures with whiting, as water endangers the pictures. Gilt frames can be much better preserved by putting on a coat of copal varnish, which with proper brushes, can be bought of carriage or cabinet-makers. When dry, it can be washed with fair water. Wash the brush in spirits of turpentine. Curtains, ottomans, and sofas covered with worsted, can be cleansed with wheat bran, rubbed on with flannel. Shades of linen or cotton, on rollers and pulleys, are always useful to shut out the sun from curtains and carpets. Paper curtains, pasted on old cotton, are good for chambers. Put them on rollers, having cords nailed to them, so that when the curtain falls, the cord will be wound up. Then, by pulling the cord, the curtain will be rolled up. Varnished furniture should be rubbed only with silk, except occasionally, when a little sweet-oil should be rubbed over, and wiped off carefully. For unvarnished furniture, use bees-wax, a little softened with sweet-oil; rub it in with a hard brush, and polish with woolen and silk rags. Some persons rub in linseed-oil; others mix bees-wax with a little spirits of turpentine and rosin, making it so that it can be put on with a sponge, and wiped off with a soft rag. Others keep in a bottle the following mixture: two ounces of spirits of turpentine, four table-spoonfuls of sweet-oil, and one quart of milk. This is applied with a sponge, and wiped off with a linen rag. Hearths and jambs, of brick, look best painted over with black lead, mixed with soft-soap. Wash the bricks which are nearest the fire with redding and milk, using a painter's brush. A sheet of zinc, covering the whole hearth, is cheap, saves work, and looks very well. A tinman can fit it properly. Stone hearths should be rubbed with a paste of powdered stone, (to be procured of the stone-cutters,) and then brushed with a stiff brush. Kitchen hearths, of stone, are improved by rubbing in lamp-oil. Stains can be removed from marble, by oxalic acid and water, or oil of vitriol and water, left on a few minutes, and then rubbed dry. Gray marble is improved by linseed-oil. Grease can be taken from marble, by ox-gall and potter's clay wet with soapsuds, (a gill of each.) It is better to add, also, a gill of spirits of turpentine. It improves the looks of marble, to cover it with this mixture, leaving it two days, and then rubbing it off. Unless a parlor is in constant use, it is best to sweep it only once a week, and at other times use a whisk-broom and dust-pan. When a parlor with handsome furniture is to be swept, cover the sofas, centre table, piano, books, and mantelpiece with old cottons kept for the purpose. Remove the rugs and shake them, and clean the jambs, hearth, and fire-furniture. Then sweep the room, moving every article. Dust the furniture with a dust-brush and a piece of old silk. A painter's brush should be kept, to remove dust from ledges and crevices. The dust-cloths should be often shaken and washed, or else they will soil the walls and furniture when they are used. Dust ornaments and fine books with feather brushes, used for no other purpose. _Chambers and Bedrooms_ are of course a portion of the house to be sedulously and scrupulously attended to, if either health or comfort are aimed at in the family. And first, every mistress of a family should see, not only that all sleeping-rooms in her house _can be_ well ventilated at night, but that they actually are so. Where there is no provision made for the introduction of pure air, in the construction of the house, and in the bedroom itself no open fire-place to allow the easy exit of foul air, a door should be left open into an entry or room where fresh air is admitted; or else a small opening should be made in a window, taking care not to allow a draught of air to cross the bed. The debility of childhood, the lassitude of domestics, and the ill-health of families, are often caused by neglecting to provide a supply of pure air. It is not deemed necessary to add much to the earlier chapters treating of bedroom conveniences; but one subject is of marked importance, as being characteristic of good or poor housekeeping--that is, the _making of beds_. Few servants will make a bed properly, without much attention from the mistress of the family; and every young woman who expects to have a household of her own to manage should be able to do it well herself, and to instruct others in doing it. The following directions should be given to those who do this work: Open the windows, and lay off the bed-covering on two chairs, at the foot of the bed. If it be a feather-bed, after it is well aired, shake the feathers from each corner to the middle; then take up the middle, shake it well, and turn the bed over. Then push the feathers in place, making the head higher than the foot, and the sides even, and as high as the middle part. A mattress, whether used on top of a feather-bed or by itself, should in like manner be well aired and turned. Then put on the bolster and the under sheet, so that the wrong side of the sheet shall go next the bed, and the _marking_ always come at the head, tucking in all around. Then put on the pillows, evenly, so that the open ends shall come to the sides of the bed, and spread on the upper sheet so that the wrong side shall be next the blankets, and the marked end always at the head. This arrangement of sheets is to prevent the part where the feet lie from being reversed, so as to come to the face; and also to prevent the parts soiled by the body from coming to the bedtick and blankets. Put on the other covering, except the outer one, tucking in all around, and then turn over the upper sheet at the head, so as to show a part of the pillows. When the pillow-cases are clean and smooth, they look best outside of the cover, but not otherwise. Then draw the hand along the side of the pillows, to make an even indentation, and then smooth and shape the whole outside. A nice housekeeper always notices the manner in which a bed is made; and in some parts of the country, it is rare to see this work properly performed. The writer would here urge every mistress of a family, who keeps more than one domestic servant, to provide them with single beds, that they might not be obliged to sleep with all the changing domestics, who come and go so often. Where the room is too small for two beds, a narrow truckle-bed kept under another during the day will answer. Domestics should be furnished with washing conveniences in their chambers, and be encouraged to keep their persons and rooms neat and in order. _The care of the Kitchen, Cellar, and Store-room is necessarily the foundation of all proper housekeeping._ If parents wish their daughters to grow up with good domestic habits, they should have, as one means of securing this result, a neat and cheerful kitchen. A kitchen should always, if possible, be entirely above-ground, and well lighted. It should have a large sink, with a drain running under-ground, so that all the premises may be kept sweet and clean. If flowers and shrubs be cultivated around the doors and windows, and the yard near them be kept well turfed, it will add very much to their agreeable appearance. The walls should often be cleaned and white-washed, to promote a neat look and pure air. The floor of a kitchen should be painted, or, what is better, covered with an oilcloth. To procure a kitchen oilcloth as cheaply as possible, buy cheap tow cloth, and fit it to the size and shape of the kitchen. Then have it stretched, and nailed to the south side of the barn, and, with a brush, cover it with a coat of thin rye paste. When this is dry, put on a coat of yellow paint, and let it dry for a fortnight. It is safest to first try the paint, and see if it dries well, as some paint never will dry. Then put on a second coat, and at the end of another fortnight, a third coat. Then let it hang two months, and it will last, uninjured, for many years. The longer the paint is left to dry, the better. If varnished, it will last much longer. A sink should be scalded out every day, and occasionally with hot lye. On nails, over the sink, should be hung three good dish-cloths, hemmed, and furnished with loops; one for dishes not greasy, one for greasy dishes, and one for washing greasy pots and kettles. These should be put in the wash every week. The lady who insists upon this will not be annoyed by having her dishes washed with dark, musty and greasy rags, as is too frequently the case. Under the sink should be kept a slop-pail; and, on a shelf by it, a soap-dish and two water-pails. A large boiler of warm soft water should always be kept over the fire, well covered, and a hearth-broom and bellows be hung near the fire. A clock is a very important article in the kitchen, in order to secure regularity at meals. WASHING DISHES. No item of domestic labor is so frequently done in a negligent manner, by domestics, as this. A full supply of conveniences will do much toward the remedy of this evil. A swab, made of strips of linen tied to a stick, is useful to wash nice dishes, especially small, deep articles. Two or three towels, and three dish-cloths should be used. Two large tin tubs, painted on the outside, should be provided; one for washing, and one for rinsing; also, a large old waiter, on which to drain the dishes. A soap-dish, with hard soap, and a fork, with which to use it, a slop-pail, and two pails for water, should also be furnished. The following rules for washing dishes will aid in promoting the desired care and neatness: 1. Scrape the dishes, putting away any food which may remain on them, and which it may be proper to save for future use. Put grease into the grease-pot, and whatever else may be on the plates into the slop-pail. Save tea-leaves for sweeping. Set all the dishes, when scraped, in regular piles, the smallest at the top. 2. Put the nicest articles in the wash-dish, and wash them in hot suds with the swab or nicest dish-cloth. Wipe all metal articles as soon as they are washed. Put all the rest into the rinsing-dish, which should be filled with hot water. When they are taken out, lay them to drain on the waiter. Then rinse the dish-cloth, and hang it up, wipe the articles washed, and put them in their places. 3. Pour in more hot water, wash the greasy dishes with the dish-cloth made for them, rinse them, and set them to drain. Wipe them, and set them away. Wash the knives and forks, _being careful that the handles are never put in water_; wipe them, and then lay them in a knife-dish, to be scoured. 4. Take a fresh supply of clean suds, in which wash the milk-pans, buckets, and tins. Then rinse and hang up this dish-cloth, and take the other, with which, wash the roaster, gridiron, pots, and kettles. Then wash and rinse the dish-cloth, and hang it up. Empty the slop-bucket, and scald it. Dry metal teapots and tins before the fire. Then put the fire-place in order, and sweep and dust the kitchen. Some persons keep a deep and narrow vessel, in which to wash knives with a swab, so that a careless servant _can not_ lay them in the water while washing them. This article can be carried into the eating-room, to receive the knives and forks when they are taken from the table. KITCHEN FURNITURE. _Crockery_.--Brown earthen pans are said to be best for milk and for cooking. Tin pans are lighter, and more convenient, but are too cold for many purposes. Tall earthen jars, with covers, are good to hold butter, salt, lard, etc. Acids should never be put into the red earthen ware, as there is a poisonous ingredient in the glazing which the acid takes off. Stone ware is better and stronger, and safer every way than any other kind. _Iron Ware_.--Many kitchens are very imperfectly supplied with the requisite conveniences for cooking. When a person has sufficient means, the following articles are all desirable: A nest of iron pots, of different sizes, (they should be slowly heated when new,) a long iron fork, to take out articles from boiling water; an iron hook, with a handle, to lift pots from the crane; a large and small gridiron, with grooved bars, and a trench to catch the grease; a Dutch oven, called also a bake-pan; two skillets, of different sizes, and a spider, or flat skillet, for frying; a griddle, a waffle-iron, tin and iron bake and bread pans; two ladles, of different sizes; a skimmer; iron skewers; a toasting-iron; two teakettles, one small and one large one; two brass kettles, of different sizes, for soap-boiling, etc. Iron kettles, lined with porcelain, are better for preserves. The German are the best. Too hot a fire will crack them, but with care in this respect, they will last for many years. Portable charcoal furnaces, of iron or clay, are very useful in summer, in washing, ironing, and stewing, or making preserves. If used in the house, a strong draught must be made, to prevent the deleterious effects of the charcoal. A box and mill, for spice, pepper, and coffee, are needful to those who use these articles. Strong knives and forks, a sharp carving-knife, an iron cleaver and board, a fine saw, steelyards, chopping-tray and knife, an apple-parer, steel for sharpening knives, sugar-nippers, a dozen iron spoons, also a large iron one with a long handle, six or eight flat-irons, one of them very small, two iron-stands, a ruffle-iron, a crimping-iron, are also desirable. _Tin Ware_.--Bread-pans; large and small patty-pans; cake-pans, with a centre tube to insure their baking well; pie-dishes, (of block-tin;) a covered butter-kettle; covered kettles to hold berries; two sauce-pans; a large oil-can; (with a cock;) a lamp-filler; a lantern; broad bottomed candlesticks for the kitchen; a candle-box; a funnel; a reflector for baking warm cakes; an oven or tin-kitchen; an apple-corer; an apple-roaster; an egg-boiler; two sugar-scoops, and flour and meal-scoop; a set of mugs; three dippers; a pint, quart, and gallon measure; a set of scales and weights; three or four pails, painted on the outside; a slop-bucket with a tight cover, painted on the outside; a milk-strainer; a gravy-strainer; a colander; a dredging-box; a pepper-box; a large and small grater; a cheese-box; also a large box for cake, and a still larger one for bread, with tight covers. Bread, cake, and cheese, shut up in this way, will not grow dry as in the open air. _Wooden Ware_.--A nest of tubs; a set of pails and bowls; a large and small sieve; a beetle for mashing potatoes; a spade or stick for stirring butter and sugar; a bread-board, for moulding bread and making pie-crust; a coffee-stick; a clothes-stick; a mush-stick; a meat-beetle, to pound tough meat; an egg-beater; a ladle, for working butter; a bread-trough, (for a large family;) flour-buckets, with lids, to hold sifted flour and Indian meal; salt-boxes; sugar-boxes; starch and indigo-boxes; spice-boxes; a bosom-board; a skirt-board; a large ironing-board; two or three clothes-frames; and six dozen clothes-pins. _Basket Ware_.--Baskets of all sizes, for eggs, fruit, marketing, clothes, etc.; also chip-baskets. When often used, they should be washed in hot suds. _Other Articles_.--Every kitchen needs a box containing balls of brown thread and twine, a large and small darning needle, rolls of waste paper and old linen and cotton, and a supply of common holders. There should also be another box, containing a hammer, carpet-tacks, and nails of all sizes, a carpet-claw, screws and a screw-driver, pincers, gimlets of several sizes, a bed-screw, a small saw, two chisels, (one to use for button-holes in broadcloth,) two awls and two files. In a drawer or cupboard should be placed cotton table-cloths for kitchen use; nice crash towels for tumblers, marked T T; coarser towels for dishes marked T; six large roller-towels; a dozen hand-towels, marked H T; and a dozen hemmed dish-cloths with loops. Also two thick linen pudding or dumpling-cloths, a jelly-bag made of white flannel, to strain jelly, a starch-strainer, and a bag for boiling clothes. In a closet should be kept, arranged in order, the following articles: the dust-pan, dust-brush, and dusting-cloths, old flannel and cotton for scouring and rubbing, large sponges for washing windows and looking-glasses, a long brush for cobwebs, and another for washing the outside of windows, whisk-brooms, common brooms, a coat-broom or brush, a whitewash-brush, a stove-brush, shoe-brushes and blacking, articles for cleaning tin and silver, leather for cleaning metals, bottles containing stain-mixtures and other articles used in cleansing. CARE OF THE CELLAR. A cellar should often be whitewashed, to keep it sweet. It should have a drain to keep it perfectly dry, as standing water in a cellar is a sure cause of disease in a family. It is very dangerous to leave decayed vegetables in a cellar. Many a fever has been caused by the poisonous miasm thus generated. The following articles are desirable in a cellar: a safe, or movable closet, with sides of wire or perforated tin, in which cold meats, cream, and other articles should be kept; (if ants be troublesome, set the legs in tin cups of water;) a refrigerator, or a large wooden-box, on feet, with a lining of tin or zinc, and a space between the tin and wood filled with powdered charcoal, having at the bottom a place for ice, a drain to carry off the water, and also movable shelves and partitions. In this, articles are kept cool. It should be cleaned once a week. Filtering jars to purify water should also be kept in the cellar. Fish and cabbages in a cellar are apt to scent a house, and give a bad taste to other articles. STOREROOM. Every house needs a storeroom, in which to keep tea, coffee, sugar, rice, candles, etc. It should be furnished with jars, having labels, a large spoon, a fork, sugar and flour-scoops, a towel, and a dish-cloth. MODES OF DESTROYING INSECTS AND VERMIN. _Bed-bugs_ should be kept away, by filling every chink in the bedstead with putty, and if it be old, painting it over. Of all the mixtures for killing them, _corrosive sublimate and alcohol_ is the surest. This is a strong poison. _Cockroaches_ may be destroyed by pouring boiling water into their haunts, or setting a mixture of arsenic mixed with Indian meal and molasses where they are found. Chloride of lime and sweetened water will also poison them. _Fleas_.--If a dog be infected with these insects, put him in a tub of warm soapsuds, and they will rise to the surface. Take them off, and burn them. Strong perfumes about the person diminish their attacks. When caught between the fingers, plunge them in water, or they will escape. _Crickets_.--Scalding, and sprinkling Scotch snuff about the haunts of these insects, are remedies for the annoyance caused by them. _Flies_ can be killed in great quantities, by placing about the house vessels filled with sweetened water and _cobalt_. Six cents' worth of cobalt is enough for a pint of water. It is very poisonous. _Mosquitoes_.--Close nets around a bed are the only sure protection at night against these insects. Spirits of hartshorn is the best antidote for their bite. Salt and water is good. _Red or Black Ants_ may be driven away by scalding their haunts, and putting Scotch snuff wherever they go for food. Set the legs of closets and safes in pans of water, and they can not get at them. _Moths_.--Airing clothes does not destroy moths, but laying them in a hot sun does. If articles be tightly sewed up in linen when laid away, and fine tobacco put about them, it is a sure protection. This should be done in April. _Rats and Mice_.--A good cat is the best remedy for these annoyances. Equal quantities of hemlock (or _cicuta_) and old cheese will poison them; but this renders the house liable to the inconvenience of a bad smell. This evil, however, may be lessened, by placing a dish containing oil of vitriol poured on saltpetre where the smell is most annoying. Chloride of lime and water is also good. In using any of the above-mentioned poisons, great care should be taken to guard against their getting into any article of food or any utensil or vessel used for cooking or keeping food, or where children can get at them. XXXI. THE CARE OF YARDS AND GARDENS. First, let us say a few words on the _Preparation of Soil_. If the garden soil be clayey and adhesive, put on a covering of sand, three inches thick, and the same depth of well-rotted manure. Spade it in as deep as possible, and mix it well. If the soil be sandy and loose, spade in clay and ashes. Ashes are good for all kinds of soil, as they loosen those which are close, hold moisture in those which are sandy, and destroy insects. The best kind of soil is that which will hold water the longest without becoming hard when dry. _To prepare Soil for Pot-plants_, take one fourth part of common soil, one fourth part of well-decayed manure, and one half of vegetable mould, from the woods or from a chip-yard. Break up the manure fine, and sift it through a lime-screen, (or coarse wire sieve.) These materials must be thoroughly mixed. When the common soil which is used is adhesive, and indeed in most other cases, it is necessary to add sand, the proportion of which must depend on the nature of the soil. _To Prepare a Hot-Bed_, dig a pit six feet long, five feet wide, and thirty inches deep. Make a frame of the same size, with the back two feet high, the front fifteen inches, and the sides sloped from the back to the front. Make two sashes, each three feet by five, with the panes of glass lapping like shingles instead of having cross-bars. Set the frame over the pit, which should then be filled with fresh horse-dung, which has not lain long nor been sodden by water. Tread it down hard; then put into the frame light and very rich soil, six or eight inches deep, and cover it with the sashes for two or three days. Then stir the soil, and sow the seeds in shallow drills, placing sticks by them, to mark the different kinds. Keep the frame covered with the glass whenever it is cold enough to chill the plants; but at all other times admit fresh air, which is indispensable to their health. When the sun is quite warm, raise the glasses enough to admit air, and cover them with matting or blankets, or else the sun may kill the young plants. Water the bed at evening with water which has stood all day, or, if it be fresh drawn, add a little warm water. If there be too much heat in the bed, so as to scorch or wither the plants, lift the sashes, water freely, shade by day; make deep holes with stakes, and fill them up when the heat is reduced. In very cold nights, cover the sashes and frame with straw-mats. _For Planting Flower Seeds_.--Break up the soil, till it is very soft, and free from lumps. Rub that nearest the surface between the hands, to make it fine. Make a circular drill a foot in diameter. Seeds are to be planted either deeper or nearer the surface, according to their size. For seeds as large as sweet peas, the drill should be half an inch deep. The smallest seeds must be planted very near the surface, and a very little fine earth be sifted over them. After covering them with soil, beat them down with a trowel, so as to make the earth as compact as it is after a heavy shower. Set up a stick in the middle of the circle, with the name of the plant heavily written upon it with a dark lead pencil. This remains more permanent if white-lead be first rubbed over the surface. Never plant when the soil is very wet. In very dry times, water the seeds at night. Never use very cold water. When the seeds are small, many should be planted together, that they may assist each other in breaking the soil. When the plants are an inch high, thin them out, leaving only one or two, if the plant be a large one, like the balsam; five or six, when it is of a medium size; and eighteen or twenty of the smaller size. Transplanting, unless the plant be lifted with a ball of earth, retards the growth about a fortnight. It is best to plant at two different times, lest the first planting should fail, owing to wet or cold weather. _To plant Garden-Seeds_, make the beds from one to three yards wide; lay across them a board a foot wide, and with a stick, make a furrow on each side of it, one inch deep. Scatter the seeds in this furrow, and cover them. Then lay the board over them, and step on it, to press down the earth. When the plants are an inch high, thin them out, leaving spaces proportioned to their sizes. Seeds of similar species, such as melons and squashes, should not be planted very near to each other, as this causes them to degenerate. The same kinds of vegetables should not be planted in the same place for two years in succession. The longer the rows are, the easier is the after culture. _Transplanting_ should be done at evening, or which is better, just before a shower. Take a round stick sharpened at the point, and make openings to receive the plants. Set them a very little deeper than they were before, and press the soil firmly round them. Then water them, and cover them for three or four days, taking care that sufficient air be admitted. If the plant can be removed without disturbing the soil around the root, it will not be at all retarded by transplanting. Never remove leaves and branches, unless a part of the roots be lost. _To Re-pot House-Plants, renew the soil every year, soon after the time of blossoming. Prepare soil as previously directed. Loosen the earth from the pot by passing a knife around the skies. Turn the plant upside down, and remove the pot. Then remove all the matted fibres at the bottom, and all the earth, except that which adheres to the roots. From woody plants, like roses, shake off all the earth. Take the new pot, and put a piece of broken earthen-ware over the hole at the bottom, and then, holding the plant in the proper position, shake in the earth around it. Then pour in water to settle the earth, and heap on fresh soil, till the pot is even full. Small pots are considered better than large ones, as the roots are not so likely to rot, from excess of moisture. _In the Laying out of Yards and Gardens_, there is room for much judgment and taste. In planting trees in a yard, they should be arranged in groups, and never planted in straight lines, nor sprinkled about as solitary trees. The object of this arrangement is to imitate Nature, and secure some spots of dense shade and some of clear turf. In yards which are covered with turf, beds can be cut out of it, and raised for flowers. A trench should be made around, to prevent the grass from running on them. These beds can be made in the shape of crescents, ovals, or other fanciful forms. In laying out beds in gardens and yards, a very pretty bordering can be made, by planting them with common flax-seed, in a line about three inches from the edge. This can be trimmed with shears, when it grows too high. _For Transplanting Trees_, the autumn is the best time. Take as much of the root as possible, especially the little fibres, which should never become dry. If kept long before they are set out, put wet moss around them and water them. Dig holes larger than the extent of the roots; let one person hold the tree in its former position, and another place the roots carefully as they were before, cutting off any broken or wounded root. _Be careful not to let the tree be more than an inch deeper them it was before_. Let the soil be soft and well manured; shake the tree as the soil is shaken in, that it may mix well among the small fibres. Do not tread the earth down, while filling the hole; but, when it is full, raise a slight mound of say four inches deep around the stem to hold water, and fill it. Never cut off leaves nor branches, unless some of the roots are lost. Tie the trees to a stake, and they will be more likely to live. Water them often. _The Care of House-Plants_ is a matter of daily attention, and well repays all labor expended upon it. The soil of house-plants should be renewed every year as previously directed. In winter, they should be kept as dry as they can be without wilting. Many house-plants are injured by giving them too much water, when they have little light and fresh air. This makes them grow spindling. The more fresh air, warmth and light they have, the more water is needed. They ought not to be kept very warm in winter, nor exposed to great changes of atmosphere. Forty degrees is a proper temperature for plants in winter, when they have little sun and air. When plants have become spindling, cut off their heads entirely, and cover the pot in the earth, where it has the morning sun only. A new and flourishing head will spring out. Few houseplants can bear the sun at noon. When insects infest plants, set them in a closet or under a barrel, and burn tobacco under them. The smoke kills any insect enveloped in it. When plants are frozen, cold water and a gradual restoration of warmth are the best remedies. Never use very cold water for plants at any season. XXXII. THE PROPAGATION OF PLANTS. This is an occupation requiring much attention and constant care. Bulbous roots are propagated by offsets; some growing on the top, others around the sides. Many plants are propagated by cutting off twigs, and setting them in earth, so that two or three eyes are covered. To do this, select a side shoot, ten inches long, two inches of it being of the preceding year's growth, and the rest the growth of the season when it is set. Do this when the sap is running, and put a piece of crockery at the bottom of the shoot, when it is buried. One eye, at least, must be under the soil. Water it and shade it in hot weather. Plants are also propagated by layers. To do this, take a shoot which comes up near the root, bend it down so as to bring several eyes under the soil, leaving the top above-ground. If the shoot be cut half through, in a slanting direction, at one of these eyes, before burying it, the result is more certain. Roses, honeysuckles, and many other shrubs are readily propagated thus. They will generally take root by being simply buried; but cutting them as here directed is the best method. Layers are more certain than cuttings. _Budding and Grafting_, for all woody plants, are favorite methods of propagation. In all such plants, there is an outer and inner bark, the latter containing the sap vessels, in which the nourishment of the tree ascends. The success of grafting or inoculating consists in so placing the bud or graft that the sap vessels of the inner bark shall exactly join those of the plant into which they are grafted; so that the sap may pass from one into the other. The following are directions for _budding_, which may be performed at any time from July to September: [Illustration: Fig. 64] Select a smooth place on the stock into which you are to insert the bud. Make a horizontal cut across the rind through to the firm wood; and from the middle of this, make a slit downward perpendicularly, an inch or more long, through to the wood. Raise the bark of the stock on each side of the perpendicular cut, for the admission of the bud, as is shown in the annexed engraving, (Fig. 64.) Then take a shoot of this year's growth, and slice from it a bud, taking an inch below and an inch above it, and some portion of the wood under it. Then, carefully slip off the woody part under the bud. Examine whether the eye or germ of the bud be perfect. If a little hole appear in that part, the bud has lost its root, and another must be selected. Insert the bud, so that _a_, of the bud, shall pass to a, of the stock; then _b_, of the bud, must be cut off, to match the cut b, in the stock, and fitted exactly to it, as it is this alone which insures success. Bind the parts with fresh bass or woolen yarn, beginning a little below the bottom, of the perpendicular slit, and winding it closely around every part, except just over the eye of the bud, until you arrive above the horizontal cut. Do not bind it too tightly, but just sufficient to exclude air, sun, and wet. This is to be removed after the bud is firmly fixed, and begins to grow. Seed-fruit can be budded into any other seed-fruit, and stone-fruit into any other stone-fruit; but stone and seed-fruits can not be thus mingled. Rose-bushes can have a variety of kinds budded into the same stock. Hardy roots are the best stocks. The branch above the bud must be cut off the next March or April after the bud is put in. Apples and pears are more easily propagated by ingrafting than by budding. _Ingrafting_ is a similar process to budding, with this advantage, that it can be performed on large trees, whereas budding can be applied only on small ones. The two common kinds of ingrafting are whip-grafting and split-grafting. The first kind is for young trees, and the other for large ones. [Illustration: Fig. 65.] The time for ingrafting is from May to October. The cuttings must be taken from horizontal shoots, between Christmas and March, and kept in a damp cellar. In performing the operation, cut off in a sloping direction (as seen in Fig. 65) the tree or limb to be grafted. Then cut off in a corresponding slant the slip to be grafted on. Then put them together, so that the inner bark of each shall match exactly on one side, and tie them firmly together with yellow yarn. It is not essential that both be of equal size; if the bark of each meet together exactly on _one_ side, it answers the purpose. But the two must not differ much in size. The slope should be an inch and a half, or more, in length. After they are tied together, the place should be covered with a salve or composition of bees-wax and rosin. A mixture of clay and cow-dung will answer the same purpose. This last must be tied on with a cloth. Grafting is more convenient than budding, as grafts can be sent from a great distance; whereas buds must be taken, in July or August, from a shoot of the present year's growth, and can not be sent to any great distance. [Illustration: Fig. 66] This engraving (Fig. 66) exhibits the mode called stock-grafting; _a_ being the limb of a large tree, which is sawed off and split, and is to be held open by a small wedge till the grafts are put in. A graft inserted in the limb is shown at _b_, and at _c_ is one not inserted, but designed to be put in at _d_, as two grafts can be put into a large stock. In inserting the graft, be careful to make the edge of the inner bark of the graft meet exactly the edge of the inner bark of the stock; for on this success depends. After the grafts are put in, the wedge must be withdrawn, and the whole of the stock be covered with the thick salve or composition before mentioned, reaching from where the grafts are inserted to the bottom of the slit. Be careful not to knock or move the grafts after they are put in. _Pruning_ is an operation of constant exercise, for keeping plants and trees in good condition. The following rules are from a distinguished horticulturist: Prune off all dead wood, and all the little twigs on the main limbs. Retrench branches, so as to give light and ventilation to the interior of the tree. Cut out the straight and perpendicular shoots, which give little or no fruit; while those which are most nearly horizontal, and somewhat curving, give fruit abundantly and of good quality, and should be sustained. Superfluous and ill-placed buds may be rubbed off at any time; and no buds pushing out after midsummer should be spared. In choosing between shoots to be retained, preserve the lowest placed, and on lateral shoots, those which are nearest the origin. When branches cross each other so as to rub, remove one or the other. Remove all suckers from the roots of trees or shrubs. Prune after the sap is in full circulation, (except in the case of grapes,) as the wounds then heal best. Some think it best to prune before the sap begins to run. Pruning-shears, and a pruning-pole, with a chisel at the end, can be procured of those who deal in agricultural utensils. _Thinning_ is also an important but very delicate operation. As it is the office of the leaves to absorb nourishment from the atmosphere, they should never be removed, except to mature the wood or fruit. In doing this, remove such leaves as shade the fruit, as soon as it is ready to ripen. To do it earlier impairs the growth. Do it gradually at two different times. Thinning the fruit is important, as tending to increase its size and flavor, and also to promote the longevity of the tree. If the fruit be thickly set, take off one half at the time of setting. Revise in June, and then in July, taking off all that may be spared. One _very large_ apple to every square foot is a rule that may be a sort of guide in other cases. According to this, two hundred large apples would be allowed to a tree whose extent is fifteen feet by twelve. If any person think this thinning excessive, let him try two similar trees, and thin one as directed and leave the other unthinned. It will be found that the thinned tree will produce an equal weight, and fruit of much finer flavor. XXXIII. THE CULTIVATION OF FRUIT. By a little attention to this matter, a lady with the help of her children can obtain a rich abundance of all kinds of fruit. The writer has resided in families where little boys of eight, ten, and twelve years old amused themselves, under the direction of their mother, in planting walnuts, chestnuts, and hazelnuts, for future time; as well as in planting and inoculating young fruit-trees of all descriptions. A mother who will take pains to inspire a love for such pursuits in her children, and who will aid and superintend them, will save them from many temptations, and at a trifling expense secure to them and herself a rich reward in the choicest fruits. The information given in this work on this subject may be relied on as sanctioned by the most experienced nursery-men. The soil for a nursery should be rich, well dug, dressed with well-decayed manure, free from weeds, and protected from cold winds. Fruit-seeds should be planted in the autumn, an inch and a half or two inches deep, in ridges four or five feet apart, pressing the earth firmly over the seeds. While growing, they should be thinned out, leaving the best ones a foot and a half apart. The soil should be kept loose, soft, and free from weeds. They should be inoculated or ingrafted when of the size of a pipe stem; and in a year after this may be transplanted to their permanent stand. Peach-trees sometimes bear in two years from budding, and in four years from planting if well kept. In a year after transplanting, take pains to train the head aright. Straight upright branches produce _gourmands_, or twigs bearing only leaves. The side branches which are angular or curved yield the most fruit. For this reason, the limbs should be trained in curves, and perpendicular twigs should be cut off if there be need of pruning. The last of June is the time for this. Grass should never be allowed to grow within four feet of a large tree, and the soil should be kept loose to admit air to the roots. Trees in orchards should be twenty-five feet apart. The soil _under_ the top soil has much to do with the health of the trees. If it be what is called _hard-pan_, the trees will deteriorate. Trees need to be manured and to have the soil kept open and free from weeds. _Filberts_ can be raised in any part of this country. _Figs_ can be raised in the Middle, Western, and Southern States. For this purpose, in the autumn loosen the roots on one side, and bend the tree down to the earth on the other; then cover it with a mound of straw, earth, and boards, and early in the spring raise it up and cover the roots. _Currants_ grow well in any but a wet soil. They are propagated by cuttings. The old wood should be thinned in the fall and manure be put on. They can be trained into small trees. _Gooseberries_ are propagated by layers and cuttings. They are best when kept from suckers and trained like trees. One third of the old wood should be removed every autumn. _Raspberries_ do best when shaded during a part of the day. They are propagated by layers, slips, and suckers. There is one kind which bears monthly; but the varieties of this and all other fruits are now so numerous that we can easily find those which are adapted to the special circumstances of the case. _Strawberries_ require a light soil and vegetable manure. They should be transplanted in April or September, and be set eight inches apart, in rows nine inches asunder, and in beds which are two feet wide, with narrow alleys between them. A part of these plants are _non-bearers_. These have large flowers with showy stamens and high black anthers. The _bearers_ have short stamens, a great number of pistils, and the flowers are every way less showy. In blossom-time, pull out all the non-bearers. Some think it best to leave one non-bearer to every twelve bearers, and others pull them all out. Many beds never produce any fruit, because all the plants in them are non-bearers. Weeds should be kept from the vines. When the vines are matted with young plants, the best way is to dig over the beds in cross lines, so as to leave some of the plants standing in little squares, while the rest are turned under the soil. This should be done over a second time in the same year. _To Raise Grapes_, manure the soil, and keep it soft and free from weeds. A gravelly or sandy soil, and a south exposure are best. Transplant the vines in the early spring, or better in the fall. Prune them the first year so as to have only two main branches, taking off all other shoots as fast as they come. In November, cut off all of these two branches except four eyes. The second year, in the spring, loosen the earth around the roots, and allow only two branches to grow, and every month take off all side shoots. When they are very strong, preserve only a part, and cut off the rest in the fall. In November, cut off all the two main stems except eight eyes. After the second year, no more pruning is needed, except to reduce the side shoots, for the purpose of increasing the fruit. All the pruning of grapes (except nipping side shoots) must be done when the sap is not running, or they will bleed to death. Train, them on poles, or lattices, to expose them to the air and sun. Cover tender vines in the autumn. Grapes are propagated by cuttings, layers, and seeds. For cuttings, select in the autumn well-ripened wood of the former year, and take fire joints for each. Bury them till April; then soak them for some hours, and set them out _aslant_, so that all the eyes but one shall be covered. Apples, grapes, and such like fruit can be preserved in their natural state by packing them when dry and solid in dry sand or saw-dust, putting alternate layers of fruit and cotton, saw-dust or sand. Some saw-dust gives a bad flavor to the fruit. _Modes of Preserving Fruit-Trees_.--Heaps of ashes or tanner's bark around peach-trees prevent the attack of the worm. The _yellows_ is a disease of peach-trees, which is spread by the pollen of the blossom. When a tree begins to turn yellow, take it away with all its roots, before it blossoms again, or it will infect other trees. Planting tansy around the roots of fruit-trees is a sure protection against worms, as it prevents the moth from depositing her egg. Equal quantities of salt and saltpetre, put around the trunk of a peach-tree, half a pound to a tree, improve the size and flavor of the fruit. Apply this about the first of April; and if any trees have worms already in them, put on half the quantity in addition in June. To young trees just set out, apply one ounce in April, and another in June, close to the stem. Sandy soil is best for peaches. Apple-trees are preserved from insects by a wash of strong lye to the body and limbs, which, if old, should be first scraped. Caterpillars should be removed by cutting down their nests in a damp day. Boring a hole in a tree infested with worms, and filling it with sulphur, will often drive them off immediately. The _fire-blight_, or _brulure_ in pear-trees can be stopped by cutting off all the blighted branches. It is supposed by some to be owing to an excess of sap, which is remedied by diminishing the roots. The _curculio_, which destroys plums and other stone-fruit, can be checked only by gathering up all the fruit that falls, (which contains their eggs,) and destroying it. The _canker-worm_ can be checked by applying a bandage around the body of the tree, and every evening smearing it with fresh tar. XXXIV. THE CARE OF DOMESTIC ANIMALS. One of the most interesting illustrations of the design of our benevolent Creator in establishing the family state is the nature of the domestic animals connected with it. At the very dawn of life, the infant watches with delight the graceful gambols of the kitten, and soon makes it a playmate. Meantime, its out-cries when hurt appeal to kindly sympathy, and its sharp claws to fear; while the child's mother has a constant opportunity to inculcate kindness and care for weak and ignorant creatures. Then the dog becomes the out-door playmate and guardian of early childhood, and he also guards himself by cries of pain, and protects himself by his teeth. At the same time, his faithful loving nature and caresses awaken corresponding tenderness and care; while the parent again has a daily opportunity to inculcate these virtues toward the helpless and dependent. As the child increases in knowledge and reason, the horse, cows, poultry, and other domestic animals come under his notice. These do not ordinarily express their hunger or other sufferings by cries of distress, but depend more on the developed reason and humanity of man. And here the parent is called upon to instruct a child in the nature and wants of each, that he may intelligently provide for their sustenance and for their protection from injury and disease. To assist in this important duty of home life, which so often falls to the supervision of woman, the following information is prepared through the kindness of one of the editors of a prominent, widely known, agricultural paper. Domestic animals are very apt to catch the spirit and temper of their masters. A surly man will be very likely to have a cross dog and a biting horse. A passionate man will keep all his animals in moral fear of him, making them, snappish, and liable to hurt those of whom they are not afraid. It is, therefore, most important that all animals should be treated uniformly with kindness. They are all capable of returning affection, and will show it very pleasantly if we manifest affection for them. They also have intuitive perceptions of our emotions which we can not conceal. A sharp, ugly dog will rarely bite a person who has no fear of him. A horse knows the moment a man mounts or takes the reins whether he is afraid or not; and so it is with other animals. If live stock can not be well fed, they ought not to be kept. One well wintered horse is worth as much, as two that drag through on straw, and by browsing the hedgerows. The same is true of oxen, and emphatically so of cows. The owner of a half-starved dog loses the use of him almost altogether; for, at the very time--the night--when lie is most needed as a guard, he must be off scouring the country for food. _Shelter_ in winter is most important for cows. They should have good tight stables or byres, well ventilated, and so warm that water in a pail will only freeze a little on the top the severest nights. Oxen should have the same stabling, though they bear cold better. Horses in stables will bear almost any degree of cold, if they have all they can eat. Sheep, except young lambs, are well enough sheltered in dry sheds, with one end open. Cattle, sheep, and dogs do not sweat as horses do, they "loll;" that is, water or slobber runs from their tongues; hence, they are not liable to take cold as the horse is. Hogs bear cold pretty well; but they eat enough to convince any one that true economy lies in giving them warm sties in winter, for the colder they are the more they eat. Fowls will not lay in cold weather unless they have light and warm quarters. _Cleanliness_ is indispensable, if one would keep his animals healthy. In their wild state all our domestic animals are very clean, and, at the same time, very healthy. The hog is not naturally a dirty animal, but quite the reverse. He enjoys currying as much as a horse or a cow, and would be as careful of his litter as a cat if he had a fair chance. Horses ought to be groomed daily; cows and oxen as often as twice a week; dogs should be washed with soapsuds frequently. Stables should be cleaned out daily. Absorbents of liquid in stables should be removed as often as they become wet. Dry earth is one of the best absorbents, and is especially useful in the fowl-house. Hogs in pens should have straw for their rests or lairs, and it should be often renewed. _Parasitic Vermin_.--These are lice, fleas, ticks, the scale insects, and other pests which afflict our live stock. There are many ways of destroying them; the best and safest is a free use of _carbolic acid soap_. The larger animals, as well as hogs, dogs, and sheep may be washed in strong suds of this soap, without fear, and the application repeated after a week. This generally destroys both the creatures and their eggs. Hen lice are best destroyed by greasing the fowls, and dusting them with flowers of sulphur. Sitting hens must never be greased, but the sulphur may be dusted freely in their nests, and it is well to put it in all hens' nests. _Salt and Water_.--All animals except poultry require salt, and all, free supplies of fresh water. _Light_.--Stables, or places where any kind of animals are confined, should have plenty of light. Windows are not more important in a house than in a barn. The _sun_ should come in freely; and if it shines directly upon the stock, all the better. When beeves and sheep are fattening very rapidly, the exclusion of the light makes them more quiet, and fatten faster; but their state is an unnatural and hardly a healthy one. _Exercise_ in the open air is important for breeding animals. It is especially necessary for horses of all kinds. Cows need very little and swine none, unless kept for breeding. _Breeding_,--Always use thorough-bred males, and improvement is certain. _Horses_.--The care which horses require varies with the circumstances in which the owner is placed, and the uses to which they are put. In general, if kept stabled, they should be fed with good upland hay, almost as much as they will eat; and if absent from the stable, and at work most of the day, they should have all they will eat of hay, together with four to eight quarts of oats or an equal weight of other grain or meal. Barley is good for horses, and so is dry corn. Corn-meal put upon cut hay, wet and well-mixed, is good, steady feed, if not in too large quantities. Four quarts a day may be fed unmixed with other grain; but if the horse be hard worked and needs more, mix the meal with wheat bran, or linseed oil-cake meal, or use corn and oats ground together; carrots are especially wholesome. A quart of linseed oil-cake meal, daily, is an excellent occasional addition to a horse's food, when carrots can not be had. It gives a lustre to his coat, and brings the new coat of hair out in the spring. A stabled horse needs daily exercise, as much as to trot three miles. Where a horse is traveling, it is well to give him six quarts of oats in the morning, four at noon, and six at night. Thorough grooming is indispensable to the health of horses. Especial care should be taken of the legs and fetlocks, that no dirt remain to cause that distressing disease, _grease_ or _scratches_, which results from filthy fetlocks and standing in dirty stables. When a horse comes in from work on muddy roads with dirty legs, they should be immediately cleaned, the dirt brushed off, then rubbed with straw; then, if very dirty, washed clean and rubbed dry with a piece of sacking. A horse should never stand in a draught of cold air, if he can not turn and put his back to it. If sweaty or warm from work, he should be blanketed, if he is to stand a minute in the winter air. If put at once into the stable, he should be stripped and rubbed down with straw actively for five minutes or more, and then blanketed. The blanket must be removed in an hour, and the horse given water and feed, if it is the usual time. It will not hurt him to eat hay when hot, unless he be thoroughly exhausted, when all food should be withheld for a while. It is very comforting to a tired horse, when he is too hot to drink, to sponge out his mouth with cool water. A horse should never drink when very hot, nor be turned into a yard to "cool off," even in summer, neither should he be turned out to pasture before he is quite cool. _Cows_.--Gentle but firm treatment will make a cow easy to milk and to handle in every way. If stabled or yarded, cows should have access to water at all times, or have it frequently offered to them. Clover hay is probably the best steady food for milk cows. Cornstalks cut up, thoroughly soaked with water for half a day, and then sprinkled with corn or oil-cake meal is perhaps unsurpassed as good winter food for milk cows. The amount of meal may vary. With plenty of oil-meal, there is little danger of feeding too much, as that is loosening to the bowels and a safe nutritious article. Corn-meal alone, in large quantities, is too heating. Roots should, if possible, form part of the diet of a milch cow, especially before and soon after calving; feed well before this period, yet not to make the cow very fat; but it is better to err in that way than to have her "come in" thin. Take the calf away from the mother as soon as it stands tip, and the separation will worry neither dam nor young. This is always best, unless the calf is to be kept with the cow. The calf will soon learn to drink its food, if two fingers be held in its mouth. Let it have all the first drawn milk for three days as soon as milked; after this, skimmed milk warmed to blood heat. Soon a little fine scalded meal may be mixed with the milk; and it will, at three to five weeks old, nibble hay and grass. It is well also to keep a box containing some dry wheat-bran and fine corn-meal mixed in the calf-pen, so that calves may take as much as they like. In milking, put the fingers around the teat close to the bag; then firmly close the forefingers of each hand alternately, immediately squeezing with the other fingers. The forefingers prevent the milk flowing back into the bag, while the others press it out. Sit with the left knee close to the right hind leg of the cow, the head pressed against her flank, the left hand always ready to ward off a blow from her feet, which the gentlest cow may give almost without knowing it, if her tender teats be cut by long nails, or if a wart be hurt, or her bag be tender. She must be stripped dry every time she is milked, or she will dry up; and if she gives much milk, it pays to milk three times a day, as nearly eight hours apart as possible. Never stop while milking till done, as this will cause the cow to stop giving milk. To tether a cow, tie her by one hind leg, making the rope fast above the fetlock joint, and protecting the limb with a piece of an old bootleg or similar thing. The knot must be one that will not slip; regular fetters of iron bound with leather are much better. A cow should go unmilked two months before calving, and her milk should not be used by the family till four days after that time. _Swine_.--The filthy state of hog-pens is allowed on account of the amount of manure they will make by working over all sorts of vegetable matter, spoiled hay, weeds, etc., etc. This is unhealthy for the family near and also for the animal. The hog is, naturally, a cleanly animal, and if given a chance he will keep himself very neat and clean. Breeding sows should have the range of a small pasture, and be regularly fed. They need fresh water constantly, and often suffer for lack of it when they have liquid swill, which they do not like to drink. All hogs should have a warm, dry, well-littered pen to lie in, away from flies and disturbance of any kind. They are fond of charcoal, and it is worth while frequently to throw a few handfuls where they can get at it. It has a very beneficial effect on the appetite, regulates the tone of the stomach and digestive organs, and can not do any harm. Pigs ought always to be well fed and kept growing fast; and when being fattened, they should be penned always, the herd being sorted so that all may have an equal chance. It is well to feed soft corn in the ear; but hard corn should always be ground and cooked for pigs. _Sheep_.--In the winter, sheep need deep, well-littered, dry sheds, dry yards, and hay, wheat, or oat straw, as much as they will eat. They should be kept gaining by grain regularly fed to them, and so distributed that each gets its share. Corn, either whole or ground, or oil-cake meal, or both, are used for fattening sheep. They will easily surfeit themselves on any grain except oil-meal, which is very safe feed for them, and usually economical. Strong sheep will often drive the weaker ones away, and so get more than their share of food and make themselves sick. This must be guarded against, and the flock sorted, keeping the weaker and stronger apart. Sheep are very useful in clearing land of brush and certain weeds, which they gnaw down, and kill. To accomplish this, the land must be overstocked, and it is best not to keep sheep on short pasturage more than a few weeks at a time; but if they are returned after a few days, it will serve as good a purpose as if they were to be kept on all the time. Sheep at pasture must be restrained by good fences, or they will be a great nuisance. Dog-proof hedge fences of Osage orange are to be highly recommended, wherever this plant will grow. Mutton sheep will generally pay better to raise than merinos, but they need more care. _Poultry_.--Few objects of labor are more remunerative than poultry, raised on a moderate scale. _Turkeys_, when young, need great care; some animal food, dry, warm quarters, and must be kept out of the wet grass, and kept in when it rains. As soon as fledged, they become very hardy, and, with free range, will almost take care of themselves. _Geese_ need water and good grass pasture. _Ducks_ do very well without water to swim in, if they have all they need to drink. They will lay a great many eggs if kept shut in a pen until say eight o'clock in the morning. If let out earlier, they wander away, and will hide their nests, and lay only about as many eggs as they can cover. It is best to set duck's eggs under hens, and to keep young ducks shut up in a dry roomy pen for four weeks, at least. _Fowls_ need light, warm, dry quarters in winter, plenty of feed, but not too much. They relish animal food, and ought to have some frequently to make them lay. Pork or beef scrap-cake can be bought for two to three cents a pound, and is very good for them. Any kind of grain is good for poultry. Nothing is better than wheat screenings. Early hatched chickens must be kept in a warm, dry, sunny room, with plenty of gravel, and the hen should have no more than eight or nine chickens to brood; though in summer, one hen will take good care of fifteen. Little, chickens, turkeys, and ducks need frequent feeding, and must have their water changed often. It is well to grease the body of the hen and the heads of the chicks with lard, in order to prevent their becoming lousy. Hens set about twenty days, and should be well fed and watered. Cold or damp weather is bad for young fowls, and when they have been chilled, pepper-corns are a good remedy, in addition to the warmth of an inclosed dry place. The most absorbing part of the "Woman's question" of the present time is the remedy for the varied sufferings of women who are widows or unmarried, and without means of support. As yet, few are aware how many sources of lucrative enterprise and industry lie open to woman in the employments directly connected with the family state. A woman can invest capital in the dairy and qualify herself to superintend a dairy farm as well as a man. And if she has no capital of her own, if well trained for this business, she can find those who have capital ready to furnish--an investment that well managed will become profitable. And, too, the raising of poultry, of dogs, and of sheep are all within the reach of a woman with proper abilities and training for this business. So that if a woman chooses, she can find employment both interesting and profitable in studying the care of domestic animals. _Bees_.--But one of the most profitable as well as interesting kinds of business for a woman is the care of bees. In a recent agricultural report, it is stated that one lady bought four hives for ten dollars, and in five years she was offered one thousand five hundred dollars for her stock, and refused it as not enough. In addition to this increase of her capital, in one of these five years she sold twenty-two hives and four hundred and twenty pounds of honey. It is also stated that in five years one man, from six colonies of bees to start with, cleared eight thousand pounds of honey and one hundred and fifty-four colonies of bees. The raising of bees and their management is so curious and as yet unknown an art in most parts of our country, that any directions or advice will be omitted in this volume, as requiring too much space, and largely set forth and illustrated in the second part. When properly instructed, almost any woman in the city, as easily as in the country, can manage bees, and make more profit than in any other method demanding so little time and labor. But in the modes ordinarily practiced, few can make any great profit in this employment. It is hoped a time is at hand when every woman will be trained to some employment by which she can secure to herself an independent home and means to support a family, in case she does not marry, or is left a widow, with herself and a family to support. XXXV. EARTH-CLOSETS. In some particulars, the Chinese are in advance of our own nation in neatness, economy, and healthful domestic arrangements. In China, nota particle of manure is wasted, and all that with us is sent off in drains and sewers from water-closets and privies, is collected in a neat manner and used for manure. This is one reason that the compact and close packing of inhabitants in their cities is practicable, and it also accounts for the enormous yields of some of their crops. The earth-closet is an invention which relieves the most disagreeable item in domestic labor, and prevents the disagreeable and unhealthful effluvium which is almost inevitable in all family residences, The general principle of construction is somewhat like that of a water-closet, except that in place of water is used dried earth. The resulting compost is without disagreeable odor, and is the richest species of manure. The expense of its construction and use is no greater than that of the common water-closet; indeed, when the outlays for plumber's work, the almost inevitable troubles and disorders of water-pipes in a house, and the constant stream of petty repairs consequent upon careless construction or use of water-works are considered, the earth-closet is in itself much cheaper, besides being an accumulator of valuable matter. To give a clear idea of its principles, mode of fabrication, and use, we can not do better than to take advantage of the permission given by Mr. George E. Waring, Jr., of Newport, R. I., author of an admirable pamphlet on the subject, published in 1868 by "The Tribune Association" of New-York. Mr. Waring was formerly Agricultural Engineer of the New-York Central Park, and has given much attention to sanitary and agricultural engineering, having published several valuable works bearing in the same general direction. He is now consulting director of "The Earth-Closet Company," Hartford, Ct., which manufactures the apparatus and all things appertaining to it--any part which might be needed to complete a home-built structure. But with generous and no less judicious freedom, they are endeavoring to extend the knowledge of this wholesome and economical process of domestic sanitary engineering as widely as possible, and so allow us to present the following instructions for those who may desire to construct their own apparatus. In the brief introduction to his pamphlet, Mr. Waring says: "It is sufficiently understood, by all who have given the least thought to the subject, that the waste of the most vital elements of the soil's fertility, through our present practice of treating human excrement as a thing that is to be hurried into the sea, or buried in underground vaults, or in some other way put out of sight and out of reach, is full of danger to our future prosperity. "Our bodies have come out of our fertile fields; our prosperity is based on the production and the exchange of the earth's fruits; and all our industry has its foundation in arts and interests connected with, or dependent on, a successful agriculture. "Liebig asserts that the greatness of the Roman empire was sapped by the _Cloaca Maxima_, through which the entire sewage of Rome was washed into the Tiber. The yearly decrease of productive power in the older grain regions of the West, and the increasing demand for manures in the Atlantic States, sufficiently prove that our own country is no exception to the rule that has established its sway over Europe. "The large class who will fail to feel the force of the agricultural reasons in favor of the reform which this pamphlet is written to uphold, will realize, more clearly than farmers will, the importance of protecting dwellings against the gravest annoyance, the most fertile source of disease, and the most certain vehicle of contagion." Nevertheless, Mr. Waring thinks that the agricultural argument is no mean or unimportant one, and says: "The importance of any plan by which the excrement of our bodies may be returned to our fields is in a measure shown in the following extract from an article that I furnished for the _American Agricultural Annual_ for 1868. "The average population of New York City--including its temporary visitors--is probably not less than 1,000,000. This population consumes food equivalent to at least 30,000,000 bushels of corn in a year. Excepting the small proportion that is stored up in the bodies of the growing young, which is fully offset by that contained in the bodies of the dead, the constituents of the food are returned to the air by the lungs and skin, or are voided as excrement. That which goes to the air was originally taken from the air by vegetation, and will be so taken again: here is no waste. The excrement contains all that was furnished by the mineral elements of the soil oil which the food was produced. This all passes into the sewers, and is washed into the sea. Its loss to the present generation is complete." ... "30,000,000 bushels of corn contain, among other minerals, nearly 7000 tons of phosphoric acid, and this amount is annually lost in the wasted night-soil of New-York City. [Footnote: Other mineral constituents of food--important ones, too--are washed away in even greater quantities through the same channels; but this element is the best for illustration, because its effect in manure is the most striking, even so small a dressing as twenty pounds per acre, producing a marked effect on all cereal crops. Ammonia, too, which is so important that it is usual in England to estimate the value of manure in exact proportion to its supply of this element, is largely yielded by human excrement.] "Practically the human excrement of the whole country is nearly all so disposed of as to be lost to the soil. The present population of the United States is not far from 35,000,000. On the basis of the above calculation, their annual food contains 200,000 tons of phosphoric acid, being the amount contained in about 900,000 tons of bones, which, at the price of the best flour of bone, (for manure,) would be worth over $50,000,000. It would be a moderate estimate to say that the other constituents of food are of at least equal value with the other constituents of the bone, and to assume $50,000,000 as the money value of the wasted night-soil of the United States every year. "In another view, the importance of this waste can not be estimated in money. Money values apply, rather, to the products of labor and to the exchange of these products. The waste of fertilizing matter reaches farther than the destruction or exchange of products: it lessens the ability to produce. "If mill-streams were failing year by year, and steam were yearly losing force, and the ability of men to labor were yearly growing less, the doom of our prosperity would not be more plainly written, than if this slow but certain impoverishment of our soil were sure to continue. .... "But the good time is coming, when (as now in China and Japan) men must accept the fact that the soil is not a warehouse to be plundered--only a factory to be worked. Then they will save their raw material, instead of wasting it, and, aided by nature's wonderful laws, will weave over and over again the fabric by which we live and prosper. Men will build up as fast as men destroy; old matters will be reproduced in new forms, and, as the decaying forests feed the growing wood, so will all consumed food yield food again." With the above brief extract, we shall cease using marks of quotation, as the following information and statements are appropriated bodily, either directly or with mere modifications for brevity, from the little pamphlet of Mr. Waring. The earth-closet is the invention of the Rev. Henry Moule, of Fordington Vicarage, Dorsetshire, England. It is based on the power of clay, and the decomposed organic matter found in the soil, to absorb and retain all offensive odors and all fertilizing matters; and it consists, essentially, of a mechanical contrivance (attached to the ordinary seat) for measuring out and discharging into the vault or pan below a sufficient quantity of sifted dry earth to entirely cover the solid ordure and to absorb the urine. The discharge of earth is effected by an ordinary pull-up similar to that used in the water-closet, or (in the self-acting apparatus) by the rising of the seat when the weight of the person is removed. The vault or pan under the seat is so arranged that the accumulation may be removed at pleasure. From the moment when the earth is discharged, and the evacuation is covered, all offensive exhalation entirely ceases. Under certain circumstances, there may be, at times, a slight odor as of guano mixed with earth; but this is so trifling and so local, that a commode arranged on this plan may, without the least annoyance, be kept in use in any room. This statement is made as the result of personal experience. Mr. Waring says: "I have in constant use in a room in my house an earth-closet commode; and even when the pan is entirely full, with the accumulation of a week's use, visitors examining it invariably say, with some surprise, 'You don't mean that this particular one has been used!'" HOW TO MAKE AN EARTH-CLOSET. The principle on which the earth-closet is based is as free to all as is the earth itself, and any person may adopt his own method of applying it. All that is necessary is to have a supply of coarsely sifted sun-dried earth with which to cover the bottom of the vessel to be used, and after use to cover the deposit. A small box of earth, and a tin scoop are sufficient to prevent the gravest annoyance of the sickroom. But, of course, for constant use, it is desirable to have a more convenient apparatus--something which requires less care, and is less troublesome in many ways. To this end, the patent invention of Mr. Moule is applicable. This comprises a tight receptacle under the seat, a reservoir for storing dry earth, and an apparatus to measure out the requisite quantity, and throw it upon the deposit. [Illustration: Fig. 67.] The arrangement at the mechanism is shown in Fig. 67. A hopper-shaded reservoir, made of galvanized iron, is supported by a framework at the back of the seat, which rests on the framework _a_, _a_. Connected with the handle at the right-hand side, there is an iron lever, which operates a movable box at the bottom of the reservoir, and causes it to discharge its contents directly under the seat. When the handle is dropped, the box returns to its position, and is immediately filled preparatory to another use. The hopper-shaped reservoir is supported by two pivots, and has a slight rocking or vibrating motion imparted to it by each lifting of the lever. This prevents the earth from becoming clogged, and insures its regular delivery. [Illustration: Fig. 68 THE "PULL-UP" APPARATUS.] The construction is more clearly shown in Fig. 68. In this figure, A is the vibrating hopper for holding the earth. Its capacity may be increased to any desired extent by building above it a straight-sized box of any height. It is not unusual, in fixed privies, to make this reservoir large enough to hold a supply for several months. As the earth is dry, there is no occasion for the use of any thing better than common pine boards in making this addition to the reservoir. B is one side of the wooden, frame by which the hopper is supported and it may be made of one inch pine or spruce. C is a box of lacquered or galvanized iron, without either top or bottom. It moves on two pivots, one of winch is shown on its exposed side. In its present position, its upper end opens into the hopper, and its lower end is dosed by the stationary board over which it stands. When the handle is pulled up, the lever, which is connected with the box, jerks it rapidly up, so that its back side closes the opening of the reservoir, and its bottom opens to the front. In its movement it discharges its contents of earth forward under the seat. When the handle is dropped, the box returns to its natural position, and is charged again. D is one of the pivots--a corresponding one being on the other side--by which the hopper is supported, and on which it vibrates. _a_, _a_, _a_, _a_, _a_, _a_, are the parts of the framework, the dimensions of which in feet and inches are given. The only essential part not shown is an earthen-ware pan without a bottom, similar to the pan of a water-closet, only not so deep and with a larger opening, which is attached to the under side of the seat, and which in a measure prevents the rising of dust, and conducts the urine to the point at which the most earth falls. This is the least important part of the invention, but it has a certain advantage. The self-acting apparatus is more complicated, and persons wishing it would do best to apply directly to the Company. THE ORDINARY PRIVY. In the circular published by the Earth-Closet Company, the following directions are given: [Illustration: Fig. 69.--Commode, 3 ft. 3 in. high, 1 ft. 11 in. wide, 2 ft. 2 in. deep.] "An ordinary fixed closet requires the apparatus to be placed at the back of, and in connection with, the usual seat; the reservoir for containing the earth being placed above it. Under it there should be a chamber or vault about four feet by three wide, and of any convenient depth, with a paved or asphalted bottom, and the sides lined with cement. Should there be an existing cesspool, it may be altered to the above dimensions. Into this the deposit and earth fall, and may remain there three, six, or twelve months, and continue perfectly inodorous and innoxious, merely requiring to be occasionally leveled by a rake or hoe. If, however, it should be found impossible or inconvenient to have a vault underneath, a movable trough, of iron or tarred wood, on wheels, may be substituted. In this case, it will be advisable to raise the seat somewhat above the floor, to allow the trough to be of sufficient size. "By one form of construction, (the 'pull-up,') the pulling up of a handle releases a sufficient quantity of the dry earth, which is thrown into the pit or vault, covering the deposit and completely preventing all smell. By another, (the 'self-acting,') the same effect is produced by the action of the seat. The apparatus may be placed in, and adapted to, almost any existing closet or privy, and so arranged that the supply and removal of earth may be carried on inside or outside as desired." The following is taken from the company's circular: "In the commode, the apparatus and earth-reservoir are self-contained, and a movable pail takes the place of the chamber or vault above described. This must be emptied as often as necessary, and the contents may be applied to the garden or field, or be allowed to accumulate in a heap under cover until wanted for use. This accumulation is inodorous, and rapidly becomes dry. The commode can stand in any convenient place in or out of doors. For use in bedrooms, hospital wards, infirmaries, etc., the commode is invaluable. It is entirely free from those faint, depressing odors common to portable water-closets and night-stools, and through its admission one of the greatest miseries of human life, the foul smells of the sick-room, and one of the most frequent means of communicating infection, may be entirely prevented. It is invariably found that, if any failure takes place, it arises from the earth _not being properly dry_. Too much importance can not be attached to this requirement. The earth-commode will no more act properly without dry earth, than will a water-closet without water. "These commodes are made in a variety of patterns, from the cottage commode to the more expensive ones in mahogany or oak, and vary in price accordingly. They are made to act either by a handle, as in the ordinary water-closet, or self-acting on rising from the seat. The earth-reservoir is calculated to hold enough for about twenty-five times; and where earth is scarce, or the manure required of extraordinary strength, the product may be dried as many as seven times, and without losing any of its deodorizing properties. "If care be taken to cast one service of earth into the pail when first placed in the commode, and to have the commonest regard to cleanliness, not the least offensive smell will be perceptible, though the receptacle remain unemptied for weeks. Care must also be taken, that no liquid, but that which they are intended to receive, be thrown into the pails." The pail used in the commode is made of galvanized iron, and is shaped very much like an ordinary coal-hod. It has a cover of the same material, and it may be carried from an upper floor with no more offensiveness than a hodful of common earth. Fig. 70 represents a cross-section of the commode, and will enable the reader more clearly to understand the construction and operation of the apparatus. _a_ is the opening in the seat; _b_, the "pan;" _c_, the pail for receiving the deposit; _d_, the hopper for containing the earth supply; _e_, the box by which the earth is measured, and by which it is thrown into the pail when moved to the position _e'_ by the operation of the "pull-up;" _f_, a door by which the pail is shut in; _g_, the cover of the seat; _h_, the cover of the hopper; _i_ a platform which prevents the escape of earth from _e_. [Illustration: Fig. 70 HOW TO USE THE EARTH-CLOSET.] Under this head, the circular issued by the original London company contains the following: "The first requirement for the proper working of the earth-closet is earth perfectly dry and sifted. Earth alone is proved to be the best deodorizer, and far superior to any disinfectants; but where it is difficult to obtain earth abundantly, sifted ashes, as before stated, may be mixed with, it in proportion of two of earth to one of ashes. "As the first requirement is _dry earth sifted_, and as this is usually thought to be a great difficulty in the way of the adoption of the dry earth system, the following remarks will at once remove such an impression. "The earth-commode and closet, if used by six persons daily, will require, on an average, about one hundred weight of earth per week. This may be dried for family use in a drawer made to fit under the kitchen range, and which may be filled with earth one morning and left until the next. The drawer should reach to within two inches of the bottom bar of the grate. A frame with a handle, covered with fine wire-netting, forming a kind of shovel, should be placed on this drawer; the finer ashes will fall through, mixing with the earth, whilst the cinders will remain on the top, to be, from time to time, thrown on the fire. "Of course, the most economical method is to provide in the summer-time a winter store of dry earth, which may be kept in an out-house, shed, or other convenient place, just as we lay in a winter store of coals. "THINGS TO BE OBSERVED "Let one fall of earth be in the pail before using. "The earth must be dry and sifted. "Sand must not be used. "No 'slops' must be thrown down. "The handle must be pulled up with a jerk, and let fall sharply." REPEATED USE OF EARTH Concerning the value and use of the product of the earth-closet, the following is copied from the London company's circular. (It will be noticed that reference is made, to _the repeated use of the same earth._ When the ordure is completely dried and decomposed, it has not only lost its odor, but it has become, like all decomposed organic matter, an excellent disinfectant, and the fifth or sixth time that the same earth is passed through the closet it is fully as effective in destroying odors as it was when used for the first time, and of course each use adds to its value as manure, until it becomes as strong as Peruvian guano, which is now worth seventy-five dollars per ton. In fact, it may be made so rich that _one hundred pounds will be a good dressing for an acre of land_.) "If the closet is over a water-tight cesspool or pit, it will require emptying at the end of three or six months. The produce, which will be quite inodorous, should be thrown, together in a heap, sheltered from wet, and occasionally turned over. At the end of a few weeks, it will be dry and fit for use. "If the receptacle be an iron trough or pail, the contents should be thrown together, re-dried, and used over again, four or five times. In a few weeks they will be dry and fit for use; the value being increased by repeated action. The condition of the manure should be much the same as that of guano, and fit for drilling." The inventor of the earth-closet, Rev. Mr. Moule, says: "It was to this point (the power of earth or clay to absorb the products of the decomposition of manure) but particularly to the _repeated action_, and consequently the repeated use of the same earth, that I first directed the attention of the public. I then pointed out: First. That a very small portion of dry and sifted earth (one and a half pints) is sufficient by covering the deposit, to prevent fermentation, (which so soon sets in whenever water is used,) and the consequent generation and emission of noxious gases. Second. That if within a few hours, or even a few days, the mass that would be formed by the repeated layers of deposit, be intimately mixed by a coarse rake or spade, or by a mixer made for the purpose, then, in five or ten minutes, neither to the eye or sense of smell is any thing perceptible but so much earth.... When about three cart-loads of sifted earth had thus been used for my family, (which averaged fifteen persons,) and left under a shed, I found that the material first employed was sufficiently dried to be used again. This process of alternate mixing and drying was renewed five times, the earth still retaining its absorbent powers apparently unimpaired. Of the visitors taken to the spot, none could guess the nature of the compost, though in some cases the heap which they visited in the afternoon had been turned over that same morning ... "It is only in towns, where the delivery, stowage, and removal of earth is attended with cost and difficulty, that any artificial aid for drying the compost would be desirable. On premises not cramped for space, the atmosphere, especially with a glass roof to the shed, will act sufficiently fast. "You may by means of it (the earth system) have a privy close to the house and a closet up-stairs, from neither of which shall proceed any offensive smell or any noxious gas. A projection from the back of the cottage, eight feet long and six feet wide, would be amply sufficient for this purpose. The nearer three or four feet down-stairs, would be occupied by the privy, in which, by the seat, would be a receptacle for dry earth. The 'soil' and earth would fall into the further five or four feet, which would form the covered and closed shed for mixing and drying. Up-stairs, the arrangement would be much the same, the deposit being made to fall clear of every wall. Through, this closet the removal of noxious and offensive matters in time of sickness, and of slop-buckets, would be immediate and easy; and if the shed below be kept well supplied with earth, all effluvium would be almost immediately checked. As to the trouble which this will cause, a very little experience will convince the cottager that it is less instead of greater, than the women generally go through at present, while the value of the manure will afford an inducement to exertion. . . . . . . . . . "The truth is, that the machinery is more simple, much less expensive, and far less liable to injury than that of the water-closet. The supply of earth to the house is as easy as that of coals. To the closet it may be supplied more easily than water is supplied by a forcing-pump, and to the commode it can be conveyed just as coal is carried to the chamber. After use, it can be removed in either case by the bucket or box placed under the seat, or from the fixed reservoir, with less offense than that of the ordinary slop-bucket--indeed, (I speak after four years' experience,) with as little offense as is found in the removal of coal-ashes. So that, while servants and others will shrink from novelty and at first imagine difficulties, yet many, to my knowledge, would now vastly prefer the daily removal of the bucket or the soil to either the daily working of a forcing-pump or to being called upon once a year, or once in three years, to assist in emptying a vault or cesspool." To the above complete and convincingly apt arguments and statements of fact, we do not care to add any thing. All that we desire is to direct public attention to the admirable qualities of this Earth System, and to suggest that, at least for those living in the country away from the many conveniences of city life, great water power, and mechanical assistance, the use of it will conduce largely to the economy of families, the health of neighborhoods, and the increasing fertility and prosperity of the country round about. XXXVI. WARMING AND VENTILATION There is no department of science, as applied to practical matters, which has so often baffled experimenters as the healthful mode of warming and ventilating houses. The British nation spent over a million on the House of Parliament for this end, and failed. Our own government has spent half a million on the Capitol, with worse failure; and now it is proposed to spend a million more. The reason is, that the old open fireplace has been supplanted by less expensive modes of heating, destructive to health; and science has but just begun experiments to secure a remedy for the evil. The open fire warms the person, the walls, the floors and the furniture by radiation, and these, together with the fire, warm the air by convection. For the air resting on the heated surfaces is warmed by convection, rises and gives place to cooler particles, causing a constant heating of its particles by movement. Thus in a room with an open fire, the person is warmed in part by radiation from the fire and the surrounding walls and furniture, and in part by the warm air surrounding the body. In regard to the warmth of air, the thermometer is not an exact index of its temperature. For all bodies are constantly radiating their heat to cooler adjacent surfaces until all come to the same temperature. This being so, the thermometer is radiating its heat to walls and surrounding objects, in addition to what is subtracted by the air that surrounds it, and thus the air is really several degrees warmer than the thermometer indicates. A room at 70 degrees by the thermometer is usually filled with air five or more degrees warmer than this. Now, the cold air is denser than warm, and therefore contains more oxygen. Consequently, the cooler the air inspired, the larger the supply of oxygen and of the vitality and vigor which it imparts. Thus, the great problem for economy of health is to warm the person as much as possible by radiated heat, and supply the lungs with cool air. For when we breathe air at from 16 to 20 degrees, we take double the amount of oxygen that we do when we inhale it at 80 to 90 degrees, and consequently can do double the amount of muscle and brain work. Warming by an open fire is nearest to the natural mode of the Creator, who heats the earth and its furniture by the great central fire of heaven, and sends cool breezes for our lungs. But open fires involve great destruction of fuel and expenditure of money, and in consequence economic methods have been introduced to the great destruction of health and life. Of these methods, the most popular is that by which radiated heat is banished, and all warmth is gained by introducing heated air. This is the method employed in our national Capitol, where both warming and ventilation are attempted by means of _fans_ worked by steam, which force in the heated air. This is an expensive mode, used only for large establishments, and its entire failure at our capitol will probably prevent in future any very extensive use of it. But the most common mode of warming is by heated air introduced from a furnace. The chief objection to this is the loss of all radiated heat, and the consequent necessity of breathing air which is debilitating both from its heat and also from being usually deprived of the requisite moisture provided by the Creator in all out-door air. Another objection is the fact that it is important to health to preserve an equal circulation of the blood, and the greatest impediment to this is a mode of heating which keeps the head in warmer air than the feet. This is especially deleterious in an age and country where active brains are constantly drawing blood from the extremities to the head. All furnace-heated rooms have coldest air at the feet, and warmest around the head. It is also rarely the case that furnace-heated houses have proper arrangements for carrying off the vitiated air. There are some recent scientific discoveries that relate to impure air which may properly be introduced here. It is shown by the microscope that _fermentation_ is a process which generates extremely minute plants, that gradually increase till the whole mass is pervaded by this vegetation. The microscope also has revealed the fact that, in certain diseases, these microscopic plants are generated in the blood and other fluids of the body, in a mode similar to the ordinary process of fermentation. And, what is very curious, each of these peculiar diseases generates diverse kinds of plants. Thus in the typhoid fever, the microscope reveals in the fluids of the patient a plant that resembles in form some kinds of seaweed. In chills and fever, the microscopic plant has another form, and in small-pox still another. A work has recently been published in Europe, in which representations of these various microscopic plants generated in the fluids of the diseased persons are exhibited, enlarged several hundred times by the microscope. All diseases that exhibit these microscopic plants are classed together, and are called _Zymotic_, from a Greek word signifying _to ferment_. These zymotic diseases sometimes have a _local_ origin, as in the case of ague caused by miasma of swamps; and then they are named _endemic_. In other cases, they are caused by personal contact with the diseased body or its clothing, as the itch or small-pox; or else by effluvia from the sick, as in measles. Such are called _contagious_ or _infectious_. In other cases, diseases result from some unknown cause in the atmosphere, and affect numbers of people at the same time, as in influenza or scarlet fever, and these are called _epidemics_. It is now regarded as probable that most of these diseases are generated by the microscopic plants which float in an impure or miasmatic atmosphere, and are taken into the blood by breathing. Recent scientific investigations in Great Britain and other countries prove that the _power of resisting_ these diseases depends upon the purity of the air which has been _habitually_ inspired. The human body gradually accommodates itself to unhealthful circumstances, so that people can live a long time in bad air. But the "reserve power" of the body, that is, the power of resisting disease, is under such circumstances gradually destroyed, and then an epidemic easily sweeps away those thus enfeebled. The plague of London, that destroyed thousands every day, came immediately after a long period of damp, warm days, when there was no wind to carry off the miasma thus generated; while the people, by long breathing of bad air, were all prepared, from having sunk into a low vitality, to fall before the pestilence. Multitudes of public documents show that the fatality of epidemics is always proportioned to the degree in which impure air has previously been respired. Sickness and death are therefore regulated by the degree in which air is kept pure, especially in case of diseases in which medical treatment is most uncertain, as in cholera and malignant fevers. Investigations made by governmental authority, and by boards of health in this country and in Great Britain, prove that zymotic diseases ordinarily result from impure air generated by vegetable or animal decay, and that in almost all cases they can be prevented by keeping the air pure. The decayed animal matter sent off from the skin and lungs in a close, unventilated bedroom is one thing that generates these zymotic diseases. The decay of animal and vegetable matter in cellars, sinks, drains, and marshy districts is another cause; and the decayed vegetable matter thrown up by plowing up of decayed vegetable matter in the rich soil in new countries is another. In the investigations made in certain parts of Great Britain, it appeared that in districts where the air is pure the deaths average 11 in 1000 each year; while in localities most exposed to impure miasma, the mortality was 45 in every thousand. At this rate, thirty-four persons in every thousand died from poisoned air, who would have preserved health and life by well-ventilated homes in a pure atmosphere. And, out of all who died, the proportion who owed their deaths to foul air was more than three fourths. Similar facts have been obtained by boards of health in our own country. Mr. Leeds gives statistics showing, that in Philadelphia, by improved modes of ventilation and other sanitary methods, there was a saving of 3237 lives in two years; and a saving of three fourths of a million of dollars, which would pay the whole expense of the public schools. Philadelphia being previously an unusually cleanly and well-ventilated city, what would be the saving of life, health, and wealth were such a city as New-York perfectly cleansed and ventilated? Here it is proper to state again that conflicting opinions are found in many writers on ventilation, in regard to the position of ventilating registers to carry off vitiated air. Most writers state that the impure air is heavier, and falls to the bottom of a room. After consulting scientific men extensively on this point, the writer finds the true result to be as follows: Carbonic acid is heavier than common air, and, unmixed, falls to the floor. But by the principle of _diffusion of gases_, the air thrown from the lungs, though at first it sinks a little, is gradually diffused, and in a heated room, in the majority of cases, it is found more abundantly at the top than at the bottom of the room, though in certain circumstances it is more at the bottom. For this reason, registers to carry off impure air should be placed at both the top and bottom of a room. In arranging for pure air in dwellings, it is needful to proportion the air admitted and discharged to the number of persons. As a guide to this, we have the following calculation: On an average, every adult vitiates about half a pint of air at each inspiration, and inspires twenty times a minute. This would amount to one hogshead of air vitiated every hour by every grown person. To keep the air pure, this amount should enter and be carried out every hour for each person. If, then, ten persons assemble in a dining-room, ten hogsheads of air should enter and ten be discharged each hour. By the same rule, a gathering of five hundred persons demands the entrance and discharge of five hundred hogsheads of air every hour, and a thousand persons require a thousand hogsheads of air every hour. In calculating the size of registers and conductors, then, we must have reference to the number of persons who are to abide in a dwelling; while for rooms or halls intended for large gatherings, a far greater allowance must be made. The most successful mode before the public, both for warming and ventilation, is that of Lewis Leeds, who was employed by government to ventilate the military hospitals and also the treasury building at Washington. This method has been adopted in various school-houses, and also by A. T. Stewart in his hotel for women in New-York City. The Leeds plan embraces the mode of heating both by radiation and convection, very much resembling the open fireplace in operation, and yet securing great economy. It is modeled strictly after the mode adopted by the Creator in warming and ventilating the earth, the home of his great earthly family. It aims to have a passage of pure air through, every room, as the breezes pass over the hills, and to have a method of warming chiefly by radiation, as the earth is warmed by the sun. In addition to this, the air is to be provided with moisture, as it is supplied out-doors by exhalations from the earth, and its trees and plants. The mode of accomplishing this is by placing coils of steam, or hot water pipes, under windows, which warm the parlor walls and furniture, partly by radiation, and partly by the air warmed on the heated surfaces of the coils. At the same time, by regulating registers, or by simply opening the lower part of the window, the pure air, guarded from immediate entrance into the room, is admitted directly upon the coils, so that it is partially warmed before it reaches the person: and thus cold drafts are prevented. Then the vitiated air is drawn off through registers both at the top and bottom of the room, opening into a heated exhausting flue, through which the constantly ascending current of warm air carries it off. These heated coils are often used for warming houses without any arrangement for carrying off the vitiated air, when, of course, their peculiar usefulness is gone. The moisture may be supplied by a broad vessel placed on or close to the heated coils, giving a large surface for evaporation. When rooms are warmed chiefly by radiated heat, the air can be borne much cooler than in rooms warmed by hot-air furnaces, just as a person in the radiating sun can bear much cooler air than in the shade. A time will come when walls and floors will be contrived to radiate heat instead of absorbing it from the occupants of houses, as is generally the case at the present time, and then all can breathe pure and cool air. We are now prepared to examine more in detail the modes of warming and ventilation employed in the dwellings planned for this work. In doing this, it should be remembered that the aim is not to give plans of houses to suit the architectural taste or the domestic convenience of persons who intend to keep several servants, and care little whether they breathe pure or bad air, nor of persons who do not wish to educate their children to manual industry or to habits of close economy. On the contrary, the aim is, first, to secure a house in which every room shall be perfectly ventilated both day and night, and that too without the watchful care and constant attention and intelligence needful in houses not provided with a proper and successful mode of ventilation. The next aim is, to arrange the conveniences of domestic labor so as to save time, and also to render such work less repulsive than it is made by common methods, so that children can be trained to love house-work. And lastly, economy of expense in house-building is sought. These things should be borne in mind in examining the plans of this work. In the Cottage plan, (Chap II. Fig. 1,) the pure air for rooms on the ground floor is to be introduced by a wooden conductor one foot square, running under the floor from the front door to the stove-room; with cross branches to the two large rooms. The pure air passes through this, protected outside by wire netting, and delivered inside through registers in each room, as indicated in Fig. 1. In case open Franklin stoves are used in the large rooms, the pure air from the conductor should enter behind them, and thus be partially warmed. The vitiated air is carried off at the bottom of the room through the open stoves, and also at the top by a register opening into a conductor to the exhausting warm-air shaft, which, it will be remembered, is the square chimney, containing the iron pipe which receives the kitchen stove-pipe. The stove-room receives pure air from the conductor, and sends off impure air and the smells of cooking by a register opening directly into the exhausting shaft; while its hot air and smoke, passing through the iron pipe, heat the air of the shaft, and produce the exhausting current. The construction of the exhausting or warm-air shaft is described on page 63. The large chambers on the second floor (Fig. 12) have pure air conducted from the stove-room through registers that can be closed if the heat or smells of cooking are unpleasant. The air in the stove-room will always be moist from the water of the stove boiler, The small chambers have pure air admitted from windows sunk at top half an inch; and the warm, vitiated air is conducted by a register in the ceiling which opens into a conductor to the exhausting warm-air shaft at the centre of the house, as shown in Fig. 17. The basement or cellar is ventilated by an opening into the exhausting air shaft, to remove impure air, and a small opening over each glazed door to admit pure air. The doors open out into a "well," or recess, excavated in the earth before the cellar, for the admission of light and air, neatly bricked up and whitewashed. The doors are to be made entirely of strong, thick glass sashes, and this will give light enough for laundry work; the tubs and ironing-table being placed close to the glazed door. The floor must be plastered with water-lime, and the walls and ceiling be whitewashed, which will add reflected light to the room. There will thus be no need of other windows, and the house need not be raised above the ground. Several cottages have been built thus, so that the ground floors and conservatories are nearly on the same level; and all agree that they are pleasanter than when raised higher. When a window in any room is sunk at the top, it should have a narrow shelf in front inclined to the opening, so as to keep out the rain. In small chambers for one person, an inch opening is sufficient, and in larger rooms for two persons, a two-inch opening is needed. The openings into the exhausting air flue should vary from eight inches to twelve inches square, or more, according to the number of persons who are to sleep in the room. The time when ventilation is most difficult is the medium weather in spring and fall, when the air, though damp, is similar in temperature outside and in. Then the warm-air flue is indispensable to proper ventilation. This is especially needed in a room used for school or church purposes. Every room used for large numbers should have its air regulated not only as to its warmth and purity, but also as to its supply of moisture; and for this purpose will be found very convenient the instrument called the Hygrodeik, [Footnote: It is manufactured by N. M. Lowe, Boston, and sold by him: and J. Queen & Co., Philadelphia.] which shows at once the temperature and the moisture. A work by Dr. Derby on Anthracite Coal, scientific men say has done much mischief by an _unproved_ theory that the discomfort of furnace heat is caused by the passage of carbonic _oxide_ through the iron of the furnace heaters, and _not_ by want of moisture. God made the air right, and taking out its moisture _must_ be wrong. The preceding remarks illustrate the advantages of the cottage plan in respect to ventilation. The economy of the mode of warming next demands attention. In the first place, it should be noted that the chimney being at the centre of the house, no heat is lost by its radiation through outside walls into open air, as is the case with all fireplaces and grates that have their backs and flues joined to an outside wall. In this plan, all the radiated heat from the stove serves to warm the walls of adjacent rooms in cold weather; while in the warm season, the non-conducting summer casings of the stove send all the heat not used in cooking either into the exhausting warm-air shaft or into the central cast-iron pipe. In addition to this, the sliding doors of the stove-room (which should be only six feet high, meeting the partition coming from the ceiling) can be opened in cool days, and then the heat from the stove would temper the rooms each side of the kitchen. In hot weather, they could be kept closed except when the stove is used, and then opened only for a short time. The Franklin stoves in the large room would give the radiating warmth and cheerful blaze of an open fire, while radiating heat also from all their surfaces. In cold weather, the air of the larger chambers could be tempered by registers admitting warm air from the stove-room, which would always be sufficiently moistened by evaporation from the stationary boiler. The conservatories in winter, protected from frost by double sashes, would contribute agreeable moisture to the larger rooms. In case the size of a family required more rooms, another story could be ventilated and warmed by the same mode, with little additional expense. We will next notice the economy of time, labor, and expense secured by this cottage plan. The laundry work being done in the basement, all the cooking, dish-washing, etc., can be done in the kitchen and stove-room on the ground floor. But in case a larger kitchen is needed, the lounges can be put in the front part of the large room, and the movable screen placed so as to give a work-room adjacent to the kitchen, and the front side of the same be used for the eating-room. Where the movable screen is used, the floor should be oiled wood. A square piece of carpet can be put in the centre of the front part of the room, to keep the feet warm when sitting around the table, and small rugs can be placed before the lounges or other sitting-places, for the same purpose. Most cottages are so divided by entries, stairs, closets, etc., that there can be no large rooms. But in this plan, by the use of the movable screen, two fine large rooms can be secured whenever the family work is over, while the conveniences for work will very much lessen the time required. In certain cases, where the closest economy is needful, two small families can occupy the cottage, by having a movable screen in both rooms, and using the kitchen in common, or divide it and have two smaller stoves. Each kitchen will then have a window and as much room as is given to the kitchen in great steamers that provide for several hundred. Whoever plans a house with a view to economy must arrange rooms around a central chimney, and avoid all projecting appendages. Dormer windows are far more expensive than common ones, and are less pleasant. Every addition projecting from a main building greatly increases expense of building, and still more of warming and ventilating. It should be introduced, as one school exercise in every female seminary, to plan houses with reference to economy of time, labor, and expense, and also with reference to good architectural taste; and the teacher should be qualified to point out faults and give the instruction needed to prevent such mistakes in practical life. Every girl should be trained to be "a wise woman" that "buildeth her house" aright. There is but one mode of ventilation yet tried, that will, at all seasons of the year and all hours of the day and night, secure pure air without dangerous draughts, and that is by an exhausting warm-air flue. This is always secured by an open fireplace, so long as its chimney is kept warm by any fire. And in many cases, a fireplace with a flue of a certain dimension and height will secure good ventilation except when the air without and within are at the same temperature. When no exhausting warm-air flue can be used, the opening of doors and windows is the only resort. Every sleeping-room _without a fireplace that draws smoke well_ should have a window raised at the bottom or sunk at the top at least an inch, with an inclined shelf outside or in, to keep out rain, and then it is properly ventilated. Or a door should be kept opened into a hall with an open window. Let the bed-clothing be increased, so as to keep warm in bed, and protect the head also, and then the more air comes into a sleeping-room the better for health. In reference to the warming of rooms and houses already built, there is no doubt that stoves are the most economical mode, as they radiate heat and also warm by convection. The grand objection to their use is the difficulty of securing proper ventilation. If a room is well warmed by a stove and then a suitable opening made for the entrance of a good supply of out-door air, and by a mode that will prevent dangerous draughts, all is right as to pure air. But in this case, the feet are always on cold floors, surrounded by the coldest air, while the head is in air of much higher temperature. There is a great difference as to healthfulness and economy in the great variety of stoves with which the market is filled. The competition in this manufacture is so stringent, and so many devices are employed by agents, that there is constant and enormous imposition on the public and an incredible outlay on poor stoves, that soon burn out or break, while they devour fuel beyond calculation. If some benevolent and scientific organization could be formed that would, from disinterested motives, afford some reliable guidance to the public, it probably would save both millions of money and much domestic discomfort. The stove described in Chapter V. is protected by patents in its chief advantages, but this has not restrained many of the trade from incorporating some of its leading excellencies and claiming to have added superior elements. Others will inform any who inquire for it, that it is out of market, because later stoves have proved superior. Should any who read this work wish to be sure of securing this stove, and also of gaining minute directions for its use, they may apply to the writer, Miss C. E. Beecher, 69 West 38th Street, New-York, inclosing 25 cents. She will then forward the manufacturers' printed descriptive circulars, and her own advice as to the best selection from the different sizes, and directions for its use, based on her own personal experience and that of many friends. Should any purchases be made through this medium, the manufacturers have agreed to pay a certain percentage into the treasury of the Benevolent Association mentioned at the close of this volume. There is no more dangerous mode of heating a room than by a gas-stove. There is inevitably more or less leakage of the gas which it is unhealthful to breathe. And proper ventilation is scarcely ever secured by those who use such stoves. The same fatal elements of imperfect ventilation with its attendant horrors of disease, extravagant wastefulness of material, of fuel, of labor, of time, and of destruction to the apparatus itself, seem concomitants of all ordinary stoves and cooking arrangements of the present day, unless those who use them are constant and unremitting in the exercise of intelligent watchfulness, guarding against these evils. And in view of the almost inevitable stupidity and carelessness of servants, who generally have charge of such things, and the frequent thoughtlessness even of intelligent women who manage their own kitchens, the writer believes she is doing a public service by offering her own experience as a guide to simpler, cheaper, and more wholesome means of living and preparing the family food. XXXVII. CARE OF THE HOMELESS, THE HELPLESS, AND THE VICIOUS. In considering the duties of the Christian family in regard to the helpless and vicious classes, some recently developed facts need to be considered. We have stated that the great end for which, the family was instituted is the training to virtue and happiness of our whole race, as the children of our Heavenly Father, and this with chief reference to their eternal existence after death. In the teachings of our Lord we find that it is for sinners--for the lost and wandering sheep, that he is most tenderly concerned. It is not those who by careful training and happy temperaments have escaped the dangers of life that God and good angels most anxiously watch. "For there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine that went not astray." The hardest work of all is to restore a guilty, selfish, hardened spirit to honor, truth, and purity; and this is the divine labor to which the pitying Saviour calls all his true followers; to lift up the fallen, to sustain the weak, to protect the tempted, to bind up the broken-hearted, and especially to rescue the sinful. This is the peculiar privilege of woman in the sacred retreat of a "Christian home." And it is for such self-denying ministries that she is to train all who are under her care and influence, both by her teaching and by her example. In connection with these distinctive principles of Christ for which the family state was instituted, let the following facts be considered. The Massachusetts Board of State Charities, consisting of some of the most benevolent and intelligent gentlemen of that State, in pursuance of their official duty visited all the State institutions, and held twenty-five meetings during the year 1867-8. By these visits and consequent discussions they arrived at certain conclusions, which may be briefly condensed as follows. No state or nation excels Massachusetts in a wise and generous care of the helpless, poor, and vicious. The agents employed for this end are frugal, industrious, intelligent, and benevolent men and women, with high moral principles. The pauper and criminal classes requiring to be cared for by Massachusetts are less in proportion to the whole number of inhabitants than in any other state or nation. Yet, admirable as are these comparative results, there is room for improvement in a most important particular. The report of the Board urges that the present mode of collecting special classes in great establishments, though it may be the best in a choice of evils, is not the best method for the physical, social, and moral improvement of those classes; as it involves many unfortunate influences (which are stated at large:) and the report suggests that a better way would be to scatter these unfortunates from temporary receiving asylums into families of Christian people all over the State. It is suggested in view of the above, that collecting fallen women into one large community is not the best way to create a pure moral atmosphere; and that gathering one or two hundred children in one establishment is not so good for them as to give each child a home in some loving Christian family. So of the aged and the sick, the blessings of a quiet home, and the tender, patient nursing of true Christian love, must be sought in a Christian family; not in a great asylum. In view of these important facts and suggestions, it may be inquired, if the great end and aim of the family state is to train the inmates to self-denying love and labor for the weak, the suffering, and the sinful, how can it be done where there are no young children, no aged persons, no invalids, and no sinful ones for whom such sacrifices are to be made? Why are orphan children thrown upon the world, why are the aged held in a useless, suffering life, except that they may aid in cultivating tender love and labor for the helpless, and reverence for the hoary head? And yet, how few children are trained thus to regard the orphan, the aged, the helpless, and the vicious around them! Great houses are built for these destitute ones, and all the labor and self-denial in taking care of them is transferred to paid agents, while thousands of families are thus deprived of all opportunity to cultivate the distinctive virtues of the Christian household. In this connection, let us look at some facts recently published in the city of New-York. The writer, Rev. W. O. Van Meter, says in his report: "The following astounding statistics are carefully selected from the Reports of the Police, Board of Health, Citizens' Association, and more than twelve years' personal experience." He then gives the following description of a section of the city only a few rods from the stores and residences of those who count their wealth by hundreds of thousands and millions, many of them professing to be followers of Christ: "First, we see old sheds, stable lofts, dilapidated buildings, too worthless to be repaired, lofts over warehouses and shops; cellars, too worthless for business purposes, and too unhealthy for horses or pigs, and therefore occupied by human beings at high rent.--Second, houses erected for tenant purposes. Take one near our Mission, as a fair specimen of the better class of '_model_' tenant houses. It contains one hundred and twenty-six families--is entered at the sides from alleys eight feet wide; and by reason of another barrack of equal height, the rooms are so darkened, that on a cloudy day it is impossible to sew in them without artificial light. It has not one room that can be thoroughly ventilated. "The vaults and sewers which are to carry off the filth of one hundred and twenty-six families have grated openings in the alleys, and doorways in the cellars, through which the deadly miasma penetrates and poisons the air of the house and courts. The water-closets for the whole vast establishment are a range of stalls, without doors, and accessible not only from the building, but even from the street. Comfort here is out of the question; common decency impossible, and the horrid brutalities of the passenger-ship are day after day repeated, but on a larger scale. "In similar dwellings are living five hundred and ten thousand persons, (nearly one half of the inhabitants of the city,) chiefly from the laboring classes, of very moderate means, and also the uncounted thousands of those who do not know to-day what they shall have to live on to-morrow. This immense population is found chiefly in an area of less than four square miles. The vagrant and neglected children among them would form a procession in double file eight miles long from the Battery to Harlem. "In the Fourth ward, the tenant-house population is crowded at the rate of two hundred and ninety thousand inhabitants to the square mile. Such packing was probably never equaled in any other city. Were the buildings occupied by these miserable creatures removed, and the people placed by each other, there would be but one and two ninths of a square yard for each, and this unparalleled packing is _increasing_. Two hundred and twenty-four families in the ward live below the sidewalk, many of them _below high-water mark_. Often in very high tide they are driven from their cellars or lie in bed until the tide ebbs. Not one half of the houses have any drain or connection with the sewer. The liquid refuse is emptied on the sidewalk or into the street, giving forth sickening exhalations, and uniting its fetid streams with others from similar sources. There are more than four hundred families in this ward whose homes can only be reached by wading through a disgusting deposit of filthy refuse. 'In one tenant-house one hundred and forty-six were sick with small-pox, typhus fever, scarlatina, measles, marasmus, phthisis pulmonalis, dysentery, and chronic diarrhea. In another, containing three hundred and forty-nine persons, _one in nineteen died_ during the year, and on the day of inspection, which was during the most healthy season of the year, there were one hundred and fifteen persons sick! In another (in the Sixth Ward, but near us,) are sixty-five families; seventy-seven persons were sick or diseased at the time of inspection, and one in four _always_ sick. In fifteen of these families twenty-five children were living, thirty-seven had died.' "Here are found the lowest class of sailor boarding-houses, dance- houses, and dens of infamy. There are _less than two dwelling-houses for each rum-hole_. Here are the poorest, vilest, most degraded, and desperate representatives of all nations. In the homes of thousands here, a ray of sunlight never shines, a flower never blooms, a bird song is never heard, a breath of pure air never breathed." A procession of vagrant and neglected children that in double file would reach eight miles, living in such filth, vice, and unhealthful pollution; all of them God's children, all Christ's younger brethren, to save whom he humbled himself, even to the shameful death of the cross! Meantime, the city of New York has millions of wealth placed in the hands of men and women who profess to be followers of Jesus Christ, and to have consecrated themselves, their time, and their wealth to his service. And they daily are passing and repassing within a stone's throw of the streets where all this misery and sin are accumulated! So in all our large cities and towns all over the land are found similar, if not so extensive, collections of vice and misery. And even where there are not such extremes of degradation, there are contrasts of condition that should "give us pause." For example, in the vicinity of our large towns and cities will be seen spacious mansions inhabited by professed followers of Jesus Christ, each surrounded by ornamented grounds. Not far from them will be seen small tenement-houses, abounding with children, each house having about as many square yards of land as the large houses have square acres. In the small tenements, the boys rise early and go forth with the father to work from eight to ten hours, with little opportunity for amusement or for reading or study. In the large houses, the boys sleep till a late breakfast, then lounge about till school-time, then spend three hours in school, stimulating brain and nerves. Then home to a hearty dinner, and then again to school. So with the girls: in the tenement-houses, they, go to kitchens and shops to work most of the day, with little chance for mental culture or the refinements of taste. In the large mansions, the daughters sleep late, do little or no labor for the family, and spend their time in school, or in light reading, ornamental accomplishments, or amusement. Thus one class are trained to feel that they are a privileged few for whom others are to work, while they do little or nothing to promote the improvement or enjoyment of their poorer neighbors. Then, again, labor being confined chiefly to the unrefined and uncultivated, is disgraced and rendered unattractive to the young. One class is overworked, and the body deteriorates from excess. The other class overwork the brain and nerves, and the neglected muscles grow thin, flabby, and weak. Notice also the style in which they accumulate the elegances of civilization without even an attempt to elevate their destitute neighbors to such culture and enjoyment. Their expensive pictures multiply on their frescoed walls, their elegant books increase in their closed bookcases, their fine pictures and prints remain shut in portfolios, to be only occasionally opened by a privileged few. Their handsome equipages are for the comfortable and prosperous--not for the feeble and poor who have none of their own. All their social amusements are exclusive, and their expensive entertainments are for those only who can return the same to them. Our Divine Master thus teaches, "When thou makest a feast, call not thy kinsmen or thy rich neighbors, lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense he made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, for they can not recompense thee; for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just." Again, our Lord, after performing the most servile office, taught thus: "If I, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye ought to wash one another's feet." In all these large towns and cities are women of wealth and leisure, who profess to be followers of Jesus Christ. Some of them, having property in their own right, live in large mansions, with equipage and servants demanding a large outlay. They travel abroad, and gather around themselves the elegant refinements of foreign lands. They give, perhaps, a tenth of their time and income (which is far less than was required of the Jews), for benevolent purposes, and then think and say that they have consecrated themselves and _all_ they have to the service of Christ. If there is any thing plainly taught in the New Testament it is, that the followers of Christ are to be different and distinct from the world around them; "a peculiar people," and subject to opposition and ill-will for their distinctive peculiarities. Of these peculiarities demanded, _humility_ and _meekness_ are conspicuous: "Come and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly, and ye shall find rest." Now, the grand aim of the rich, worldly, and ambitious is to be at least equal, or else to rise higher than others, in wealth, honor, and position. This is the great struggle of humanity in all ages, especially in this country, and among all classes, to _rise higher_--to be as rich or richer than others--to be as well dressed--to be more learned, or in more honored positions than others. This was the very thing that made contention among the apostles, even in the company of their Lord, as they walked and "disputed who should be the greatest." "And Jesus sat down and called the twelve, and said unto them, If any man desire to be first, the same _shall be last and servant of all;_" and "he that is least among you shall be great." At another time, the ambitious mother of two disciples came and asked that her sons might have the _highest_ place in his kingdom, and the other disciples were "moved with indignation." Then the Lord taught them that the honor and glory of his kingdom was to be exactly the reverse of this world; and that whoever would be great must be a _minister_, and who would be chief must be a _servant_; even as the Son of Man came not to be ministered to, but to minister. Again, he rebuked the love of high position and the desire of being counted wise as teachers of others: "Be not ye called Rabbi, neither be ye called Master; but he that is greatest among you shall be your servant, and whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased." Then, as to the strife after wealth, into which all are now rushing so earnestly, the Lord teaches: "Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth. Whosoever of you forsaketh not all that he hath can not be my disciple. Sell that ye have, and give alms; provide yourselves with bags that wax not old--a treasure in heaven that faileth not." To the rich young man, asking how to gain eternal life, the reply was, "Sell all thou hast, and give to the poor, and come and follow me." When the poor widow cast in _all her living_ she was approved. When the first Christians were "filled with the Holy Ghost," they sold all their possessions, to be distributed to those that had need, and were approved. And nowhere do we find any direction or approval of laying up money for self or for children. A man is admonished to provide sustenance and education for his family, but never to lay up money for them; and the history of the children of the rich is a warning that, even in a temporal view, the chances are all against the results of such use of property. We are to spend all to _save the world_; For this we are to labor and sacrifice ease and wealth, and we are to train children to the same self-sacrificing labors; All that is spent for earthly pleasure ends here. Nothing goes into the future world as a good secured but training our own and other immortal minds. Thus only can we lay up treasures in heaven. There is a crisis at hand in the history of individuals, of the church, and of our nation, which must inaugurate a new enterprise to save "the whole world." There must be something coming in the Christian churches more consistent, more comprehensive, more in keeping with the command of our ascending Lord--"Go ye (_all_ my followers) into _all the world_, and preach the gospel to every creature; he that believeth shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned!" It is in hope and anticipation of such a "revival" of the true, self-denying spirit of Christ and of his earnest followers, that plans have been drawn for simple modes of living, in which both labor and economy may be practiced for benevolent ends, and yet without sacrificing the refinements of high civilization. One method is exhibited in the first chapters, adapted to country residence. In what follows will be presented a plan for a city home, having the same aim. The chief points are to secure economy of labor and time by the _selection and close packing of conveniences_, and also economy of health by a proper mode of _warming and ventilation_. In this connection will be indicated opportunities and modes that thus may be attained for aiding to save the vicious, comfort the suffering, and instruct the ignorant. Fig. 71 is the ground plan, of a city tenement occupying two lots of twenty-two feet front, in which there can be no side windows; as is the case with most city houses. There are two front and two back-parlors, each twenty feet square, with a bedroom and kitchen appended to each: making four complete sets of living-rooms. A central hall runs from basement to roof, and is lighted by skylights. There is also a ventilating recess running from basement to roof with whitened walls, and windows opening into it secure both light and air to the bedrooms. On one end of this recess is a trash-flue closed with a door in the basement, and opening into each story, which must be kept closed to prevent an upward draught, causing dust and light articles to rise. At the other end is a dumb-waiter, running from cellar to roof, and opening into the hall of each story. Four chimneys are constructed near the centre of the house, one for each suite of rooms, to receive a smoke-pipe of cast-iron or terra cotta, as described previously, with a space around it for warm air; and this serves as the exhausting-shaft to carry off the vitiated air from parlors, kitchens, bedrooms, and water-closets. In each kitchen is a stove such as is described in Chapter IV., its pipe connecting with the central cast-iron or terra cotta pipe. The stove can be inclosed by sliding doors shutting off the heat in warm weather. These kitchen stoves, and a large stove in the basement to warm the central hall, would suffice for all the rooms, except in the coldest months, when a small terra cotta stove, made for this purpose, or even an ordinary iron stove, placed by one window in each of the parlors, would give the additional heat needed; while fresh air could be admitted from the windows behind the stove, and thus be partially warmed. This exhibits the essential feature and peculiarity of Mr. Leeds's system of ventilation, before described. Fresh air, admitted at the bottom of a slightly raised window, is to enter below a window-seat which projects over the stove; the air being thus warmed before entering the room. The flue of the stove is seen (in the finished corner of Fig. 71, which is a model for the four other suites of rooms on each floor) running along the wall to the _front_ chimney, which also receives the corresponding stove-flue from the nearest window in the adjoining parlor: the same arrangement being repeated at the back of the house. This, the two front and back chimneys are for the heating and ventilating parlor stoves; the four central chimneys for cooking, heating, and ventilation. When possible, in a large building, steam generated in the basement heater will be found better than the parlor stove. In this case, the room will be heated by the coil of steam-pipe mentioned before; the slab covering it being the window-seat, or guard, under which the cool fresh air is conducted to be warmed before passing into the room. [Illustration: Fig. 71 Diagram of living quarters.] Fig. 72 shows one side of the parlor, giving a series of sliding- doors, behind which are hooks, shelves, and "shelf-boxes," as described earlier in the book. [Illustration: Fig. 72.] The recess occupied by the sofa stands between these two closets. In case the room is used for sleeping, the double couch on page 30 might be substituted for the sofa, serving as a lounge by day, and two single beds by night. The curtain hanging above can be so fastened by rings on a strong semi-circular wire as to be let down while dressing and undressing, as is done in some of our steamboats. Pockets and hooks on the inside of the curtains may be made very useful. [Illustration: Fig. 73.] Fig. 73 represents another side of the same room where are two large windows, each having a cushioned seat in its recess, (although one may be occupied by a stove, as described above.) A study-table with drawers or both the front and back sides furnishes large accommodations for many small articles. Fig. 74 represents a third side of the same room, with sliding doors glazed from top to bottom to give light to the bedroom and kitchen. [Illustration: Fig. 74.] The fourth side appears on the ground plan (Fig. 71.) The ottomans and a few chairs will complete the needful furniture. By means of forms, shelves, and shelf-boxes, the kitchen, could hold all stores and implements for cooking and setting tables, on the method shown page 34. The eating table is close to the kitchen and sink, so that few steps are required to bring and remove every article. Thus stove, sink, cooking materials, the table and its furniture, are all in close proximity, and yet, when the inmates are seated at table, the sliding-doors will shut out the kitchen, while the bad air and smells of cooking are earned off by the ventilating exhaust-shaft. The bedroom has a bath-tub and water-closet. The tub need not be more than four feet long, and a half-cover raised by a hinge will, when down, hold wash-bowl and pitcher, when the tub is not in use. Around the bedroom high and wide shelves and shelf-boxes near the ceiling serve to store large articles; and narrower shelves with pegs under them for clothing, protected by a curtain, furnish other conveniences for storage. The trash-flue serves to send off rubbish, with but few steps, and the dumb waiter brings up fuel, stores, etc. Each bedroom must be provided with a ventilating register at the top, connecting with the warm foul-air flue in the chimney. For a family of four persons, one parlor, with its kitchen and bedroom, couches and side closets, would supply all needful accommodations. For a larger family, sliding-doors into the adjacent parlor, its appended kitchen being arranged for another bedroom, would accommodate a family of ten persons. A front and a back entrance may be in the basement, which, can be used for family stores, each family having one room. A general laundry with drying closets could be provided in the attic, and lighted from the roof. Such a building, four stories high, would accommodate sixteen families of four members, or eight larger families, and provide light, warmth, ventilation, and more comforts and conveniences than are usually found in most city houses built for only one family. Here young married persons with frugal and benevolent tastes could commence housekeeping in a style of comfort and good taste rarely excelled in mansions of the rich. The spaces usually occupied by stairs, entries, closets, etc., would on this plan be thrown into fine large airy rooms, with every convenience close at hand. In one of our large cities is to be found a Christian lady who inherited a handsome establishment with means to support it in the style common to the rich. In the spirit of Christ she "sold all that she had, and gave to the poor," by establishing a _Home for Incurables_, and making her home with them, giving her time and wealth to promoting their temporal comfort and spiritual welfare. Was this doing _more_ than her duty--_more_ than the example and teachings of Christ require? Suppose several ladies of similar views and character in one city, having only moderate wealth, and leisure, unite to erect such a building as the one described, in a light and healthful part of the city of New York, and then should take up their residence in it, and from the vast accumulation of misery and sin at hand on every side, should select the orphans, the aged, the sick, and the sinful, and spend time and money for their temporal and spiritual elevation; would they do _more_ than the example and teachings of Christ enjoin? Or would their enjoyment, even in this life, be diminished by exchanging a routine chiefly of personal gratification for such self-denying ministries? It was "for _the joy_ that was set before Him" through the everlasting ages that our Lord "endured the cross," and it is to the same supernal glories that he invites his followers, and by the same path he trod. Here it probably will be said that all rich women can not do what is here suggested, owing to multitudinous claims, or to incapacity of mind or body for carrying out such an attempt. It will also be said that there are many other ways for practicing self-denial besides selling our homes and taking a humbler style of living. This is all true. But we are told that there are "greatest" and "least" in that kingdom of heaven where the chief happiness is in living to serve others, and not for self. Those who can not change their expensive style of living, and are obliged to spend most of their thoughts and wealth on self and those who are a part of self, will be among the least and lowest in happiness and honor, while those who take the low places on earth to raise others will be the happiest and most honored in the kingdom of heaven. There are many residences in our large cities where women claiming to be Christ's followers live in almost solitary grandeur till the warm season, and then shut them up to spend their time at watering-places or country resorts. The property invested in such city establishments, and the income required to keep them up, would secure "Christian homes" to many suffering, neglected, homeless children of Christ, who are living in impure air, with all the debasing influences found in city tenement-houses. Meantime, the owners of this wealth are suffering in mind and body for want of some grand and noble object in life. If such could not personally live in such an establishment as is here described, by self-denying arrangements and combination with others they could provide and superintend one. Our minds are created in the image of our Father in heaven, and capable of being made happy, as his is, by the outpouring of blessings on others. And when we are invited by our divine Lord to take his yoke and bear his burden, it is for our own highest happiness as well as for the good of others. And whoever truly obeys finds the yoke easy and the burden light, and that they bring rest to the soul. But those who shrink from the true good, to live a life of self-indulgent ease, will surely find that mere earthly enjoyments pall on the taste, that they perish in the using, that they never satisfy the cravings of a soul created for a higher sphere and nobler mission. The Bible represents that there is an emergency-a great conflict in the world unseen-and that we on earth, who are Christ's people, are to take a part in this conflict and in the "fellowship of his sufferings," to redeem his children from the slavery of sin and eternal death; and there is the same call to labor and sacrifice now as there was when he commanded, "Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to _every_ creature." But is not the larger part of the church--especially those who have wealth--practically living on no higher principles than the pious Jews and virtuous heathen? Are they not living just as if there were no great emergency, no terrible risks and danger to their fellow-men in the life to, come? Are they not living just as if all men were safe after they leave this world, and all we need to aim at is to make ourselves and others virtuous and happy in this life, without disturbing anxiety about the life to come? And is the _training_ of most Christian families diverse from that of pious Jews, in reference to the dangers of our fellow-men in the future state, and the consequent duty of labor and sacrifice in order to extend the true religion all over the earth? One mode of avoiding self-denial in style of living is by the plea that, if all rich Christiana gave up the expensive establishments common to this class and adopted such economies as are here suggested, it would tend to lower civilization and take away support from those living by the fine arts. But while the world is rushing on to such profuse expenditure, will not all these elegancies and refinements be abundantly supported, and is there as much danger in this direction as there is of avoiding the self-denying example of Christ and his early followers? They gave up all they had, and "were scattered abroad, preaching the word;" and was there any reason existing then for self-denying labor that does not exist now? There are more idolaters and more sinful men now, in actual numbers, than there were then; while teaching them the way of eternal life does not now, as it did then, involve the "loss of all things" and "deaths often." Moreover, would not the fine arts, in the end, he better supported by imparting culture and refined tastes to the neglected ones? Teaching industry, thrift, and benevolence is far better than scattering alms, which often do more harm than good; and would not enabling the masses to enjoy the fine arts and purchase in a moderate style subserve the interests of civilization as truly as for the rich to accumulate treasures for themselves in the common exclusive style? Suppose some Protestant lady of culture and fortune should unite with an associate of congenial taste and benevolence to erect such a building as here described, and then devote her time and wealth to the elevation and salvation of the sinful and neglected, would she sacrifice as much as does a Lady of the Sacred Heart or a Sister of Charity, many of whom have been the daughters of princes and nobles? They resign to their clergy and superiors not only the control of their wealth but their time, labor, and conscience. In doing this, the Roman Catholic lady is honored and admired as a saint, while taught that she is doing more than her duty, and is thus laying up a store of good works to repay for her own past deficiencies, and also to purchase grace and pardon for humbler sinners. If this is really believed, how soothing to a wounded conscience! And what a strong appeal to generous and Christian feeling! And the more terrific the pictures of purgatory and hell, the stronger the appeal to these humane and benevolent principles. But how would it be with the Protestant woman practicing such self-denial? For example, the lady of wealth and culture, who gave up her property and time to provide a home for incurables--would her pastor say she was doing _more_ than her duty? and if not, would he preach to other rich women who, in other ways, could humble themselves to raise up the poor, the ignorant, and the sinful, that they are doing _less_ than their duty? Is it not sometimes the case, that both minister and people, by example, at least, seem to teach that, the more riches increase, the less demand there is for economy, labor, and self-denial for the benefit of the destitute and the sinful? Protestants are little aware of the strong attractions which, are drawing pious and benevolent women toward the Roman Catholic Church, To the poor and neglected: in humble life are offered a quiet home, with sympathy, and honored work. To the refined and ambitious are offered the best society and high positions of honor and trust. To the sinful are offered pardon for past offenses and a fresh supply of "grace" for all acts of penitence or of benevolence. To the anxiously conscientious, perplexed with contentions as to doctrines and duties, are offered an infallible pope and clergy to decide what is truth and. duty, and what is the true interpretation of the Bible, while they are taught that the "faith" which saves the soul is implicit belief in the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. All this enables many, even of the intelligent, to receive the other parts of a system that contradicts both common sense and the Bible. Meantime, a highly educated priesthood, with no family ties to distract attention, are organizing and employing devoted, self-denying women, all over the land, to perform the distinctive work that Protestant women, if wisely trained and organized by their clergy, could carry out in thousands of scattered Christian homes and villages. In the Protestant churches, women are educated only to be married; and when not married, there is no position provided which is deemed as honorable as that of a wife. But in the Roman Catholic Church, the unmarried woman who devotes herself to works of Christian benevolence is the most highly honored, and has a place of comfort and respectability provided which is suited to her education and capacity. Thus come great nunneries, with lady superiors to control conscience and labor and wealth. But a time is coming when the family state is to be honored and ennobled by single women, qualified to sustain it by their own industries; women who will both support and train the children of their Lord and Master in the true style of Protestant independence, controlled by no superior but Jesus Christ. And in the Bible they will find the Father of the faithful, to both Jews and Gentiles, their great exemplar. For nearly one hundred years Abraham had no child of his own; but his household, whom he trained to the number of three hundred and eighteen, were children of others. And he was the friend of God, chosen to be father of many nations, because he would "command his household to do justice and judgment and keep the way of the Lord." The woman who from true love consents to resign her independence and be supported by another, while she bears children and trains them for heaven, has a noble mission; but the woman who earns her own independence that she may train the neglected children of her Lord and Saviour has a still higher one. And a day is coming when Protestant women will be _trained_ for this their highest ministry and profession as they never yet have been. XXXVII. THE CHRISTIAN NEIGHBORHOOD. The spirit of Christian missions to heathen lands and the organizations to carry them forward commenced, in most Protestant lands, within the last century. The writer can remember the time when an annual collection for domestic missions was all the call for such benefactions in a wealthy New-England parish; while such small pittances were customary that the sight of a dollar-bill in the collection, even from the richest men of the church-members, produced a sensation. In the intervening period since that time, the usual mode of extending the Gospel among the heathen has been for a few of the most self-sacrificing men and women to give up country and home and all the comforts and benefits of a Christian community, and then commence the family state amid such vice and debasement that it was ruinous to children to be trained in its midst. And so the result has been, in multitudes of cases, that children were born only to be sent from parents to be trained by strangers, and the true "Christian family" could not be exhibited in heathen lands. And as a Christian neighborhood, in its strictest sense, consists of a collection of Christian families, such a community has been impossible in most cases among the heathen. [Illustration: Fig. 75] When our Lord ascended, his last command was "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to _every_ creature." For ages, most Christian people have supposed this command was limited to the apostles. In the present day, it has been extended to Include a few men and women, who should practice the chief labor and self-sacrifice, while most of the church lived at ease, and supposed they were obeying this command, by giving a small portion of their abundance to support those who performed the chief labor and self-sacrifice. But a time is coming when Christian churches will under stand this command in a much more comprehensive sense; and the "Christian family" and "Christian neighborhood" will be the grand ministry of salvation. In order to assist in making this a practicable anticipation, some additional drawings are given in this chapter. The aim is to illustrate one mode of commencing a Christian neighborhood that is so economical and practical that two or three ladies, with very moderate means, could carry it out. A small church, a school-house, and a comfortable family dwelling may all be united in one building, and for a very moderate sum, as will be illustrated by the following example. At the head of the first chapter is a sketch which represents a perspective view of the kind of edifice indicated. On the opposite page (Fig. 75) is an enlarged and more exact view of the front elevation of the same, which is now building in one of the most Southern States, where tropical plants flourish. The three magnificent trees on the drawing heading the first chapter are live-oaks adorned with moss, rising over one hundred feet high and being some thirty or more feet in circumference. Nearly under their shadow is the building to be described. [Illustration: Fig. 76.] Fig. 76 is the ground plan, which includes one large room twenty-five feet wide and thirty-five feet long, having a bow window at one end, and a kitchen at the other end. The bow-window has folding-doors, closed during the week, and within is the pulpit for Sunday service. The large room may be divided either by a movable screen or by sliding doors with a large closet on either side. The doors make a more perfect separation; but the screen affords more room for storing family conveniences, and also secured more perfect ventilation for the whole large room by the exhaust-flue. Thus, through the week, the school can be in one division, and the other still a sizable room, and the kitchen be used for teaching domestic economy and also for the eating-room. Oil Sunday, if there is a movable screen, it can be moved back to the fireplace; or otherwise, the sliding--doors may be opened, giving the whole space to the congregation. The chimney is finished off outside as a steeple. It incloses a cast-iron or terra cotta pipe, which receives the stove-pipe of the kitchen and also pipes connecting the two fireplaces with the large pipe, and finds exit above the slats of the steeple at the projections. Thus the chimney is made an exhaust shaft for carrying off vitiated air from all the rooms both above and below, which have openings into it made for the purpose. Two good-sized chambers are over the large lower story, as shown in Fig. 77. Large closets are each side of these chambers, where are slatted openings to admit pure air; and under these openings are registers placed to enable pure air to pass through the floor into the large room below. Thus a perfect mode of ventilation is secured for a large number. [Illustration: Fig. 77.] On Sunday, the folding-doors of the bow-window are to be opened for the pulpit, the sliding-doors opened, or the screen moved back, and camp-chairs brought from the adjacent closet to seat a congregation of worshipers. During the week, the family work is to be done in the kitchen, and the room adjacent be used for both a school and an eating-room. Here the aim will be, during the week, to collect the children of the neighborhood, to be taught not only to read, write, and cipher, but to perform in the best manner all the practical duties of the family state. Two ladies residing in this building can make an illustration of the highest kind of "Christian family," by adopting two orphans, keeping in training one or two servants to send out for the benefit of other families, and also providing for an invalid or aged member of Christ's neglected ones. Here also they could employ boys and girls in various kinds of floriculture, horticulture, bee-raising, and other out-door employments, by which an income could be received and young men and women trained to industry and thrift, so as to earn an independent livelihood. The above attempt has been made where, in a circuit of fifty miles, with a thriving population, not a single church is open for Sunday worship, and not a school to be found except what is provided by faithful Roman Catholic nuns, who, indeed, are found engaged in similar labors all over our country. The cost of such a building, where lumber is $50 a hundred and labor $3 a day, would not much exceed $1200. Such destitute settlements abound all over the West and South, while, along the Pacific coast, China and Japan are sending their pagan millions to share our favored soil, climate, and government. Meantime, throughout our older States are multitudes of benevolent, well-educated, Christian women in unhealthful factories, offices, and shops; and many, also, living in refined leisure, who yet are pining for an opportunity to aid in carrying the Gospel to the destitute. Nothing is needed but _funds_ that are in the keeping of thousands of Christ's professed disciples, and _organisations_ for this end, which are at the command of the Protestant clergy. Let such a truly "Christian family" be instituted in any destitute settlement, and soon its gardens and fields would cause "the desert to blossom as the rose," and around would soon gather a "Christian neighborhood." The school-house would no longer hold the multiplying worshipers. A central church would soon appear, with its appended accommodations for literary and social gatherings and its appliances for safe and healthful amusements. The cheering example would soon spread, and ere long colonies from these prosperous and Christian communities would go forth to shine as "lights of the world" in all the now darkened nations. Thus the "Christian family," and "Christian neighborhood" would become the grand ministry, as they were designed to be, in training our whole race for heaven. This final chapter should not close without a few encouraging words to those who, in view of the many difficult duties urged in these pages, sorrowfully review their past mistakes and deficiencies. None can do this more sincerely than the writer. How many things have been done unwisely even with good motives! How many have been left undone that the light of present knowledge would have secured! In this painful review, the good old Bible comes as the abundant comforter. The Epistle to the Romans was written especially to meet such regrets and fears. It teaches that all men are sinners, in many cases from ignorance of what is right, and in many from stress of temptation, so that neither Greek nor Jew can boast of his own righteousness. For it is not "by works of righteousness" that we are to be considered and treated as righteous persons, but through a "faith that _works by love_;" that _faith_ or _belief_ which is not a mere intellectual conviction, but a _controlling purpose_ or spiritual principle which _habitually controls_ the feelings and conduct. And so long as there is this constant aim and purpose to obey Christ in all things, mistakes in judgment as to what is right and wrong are pitied, "even as a father pitieth his children," when from ignorance they run into harm. And even the most guilty transgressors are freely forgiven when truly repentant and faithfully striving to forsake the error of their ways. Moreover, this tender and pitiful Saviour is the Almighty One who rules both this and the invisible world, and who "from every evil still educes good." This life is but the infant period of our race, and much that we call evil, in his wise and powerful ruling may be for the highest good of all concerned. The Blessed Word also cheers us with pictures of a dawning day to which we are approaching, when a voice shall be heard under the whole heavens, saying, "Alleluia"--"the kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever." And "a great voice out of heaven" will proclaim, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he shall dwell with them, and they shall be his people. And God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying; neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away." The author still can hear the echoes of early life, when her father's voice read to her listening mother in exulting tones the poet's version of this millennial consummation, which was the inspiring vision of his long life-labors--a consummation to which all their children were consecrated, and which some of them may possibly live to behold. "O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true! Scenes of accomplished bliss! which who can see, Though but in distant prospect, and not feel His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy! "Rivers of gladness water all the earth, And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field Laughs with abundance; and the land once lean, Or fertile only in its own disgrace, Exults to see its thistly curse repealed. "Error has no place: That creeping pestilence is driven away; The breath of Heaven has chased it. In the heart No passion touches a discordant string, But all is harmony and love. Disease Is not: the pure and uncontaminate blood Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. One song employs all nations; and all cry, 'Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us!' The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other; and the mountain-tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, "Behold the measure of the promise filled! See Salem built, the labor of a God! Bright as a sun the sacred city shines; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light; the glory of all lands Flows into her; unbounded is her joy, And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there; The looms of Ormus and the mines of Ind, And Saba's spicy groves pay tribute there. "Praise is in all her gates: upon her walls, And in her streets, and in her spacious courts, Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there Kneels with the native of the farthest west; And Athiopia spreads abroad the hand, And worships. Her report has traveled forth Into all lands. From every clime they come To see thy beauty, and to share thy joy, O Zion! an assembly such as earth Saw never, such as Heaven stoops down to see!" [Footnote: Cowper's _Task_.] AN APPEAL TO AMERICAN WOMEN BY THE SENIOR AUTHOR OF THIS VOLUME. My honored countrywomen: It is now over forty years that I have been seeking to elevate the character and condition of our sex, relying, as to earthly aid, chiefly on your counsel and cooperation. I am sorrowful at results that have followed these and similar efforts, and ask your sympathy and aid. Let me commence with a brief outline of the past. I commenced as an educator in the city of Hartford, Ct., when only the primary branches and one or two imperfect accomplishments were the ordinary school education, and was among the first pioneers in seeking to introduce some of the higher branches. The staid, conservative citizen's queried of what use to women were Latin, Geometry, and Algebra, and wondered at a request for six recitation rooms and a study-hall for a school of nearly a hundred, who had as yet only one room. The appeal was then made to benevolent, intelligent women, and by their influence all that was sought was liberally bestowed. But the course of study then attempted was scarcely half of what is now pursued in most of our colleges for young women, while there has been added a round and extent of accomplishments then unknown. Yet this moderate amount so stimulated brain and nerves, and so excited competition, that it became needful to enforce a rule, requiring a daily report, that only two hours a day had been devoted to study out of school hours. Even this did not avail to save from injured health both the teacher who projected these improvements and many of her pupils. This example and that of similar institutions spread all over the nation, with constantly increasing demand for more studies, and decreasing value and respect for domestic pursuits and duties. Ten years of such intellectual excitement exhausted the nervous fountain, and my profession as a school-teacher was ended. The next attempt was to introduce Domestic Economy as _a science to be studied_ in schools for girls. For a while it seemed to succeed; but ere long was crowded out by Political Economy and many other economies, except those most needed to prepare a woman for her difficult and sacred duties. In the progress of years, it came to pass that the older States teemed with educated women, qualified for no other department of woman's profession but that of a schoolteacher, while the newer States abounded in children without schools. I again appealed to my countrywomen for help, addressing them through the press and also by the assistance of a brother (in assemblies in many chief cities) in order to raise funds to support an agent. The funds were bestowed, and thus the services of Governor Slade were secured, and, mainly by these agencies, nearly one thousand teachers were provided with schools, chiefly in the West. Meantime, the intellectual taxation in both private and public schools, the want of proper ventilation in both families and schools, the want of domestic exercise which is so valuable to the feminine constitution, the pernicious modes of dress, and the prevailing neglect of the laws of health, resulted in the general decay of health among women. At the same time, the overworking of the brain and nerves, and the "cramming" system of study, resulted in a deficiency of mental development which is very marked. It is now a subject of general observation that young women, at this day, are decidedly inferior in mental power to those of an earlier period, notwithstanding their increased advantages. For the mind, crowded with undigested matter, is debilitated the same as is the body by over-feeding, Recent scientific investigations give the philosophy of these results. For example, Professor Houghton, of Trinity College, Dublin, gives as one item of protracted experiments in animal chemistry, that two hours of severe study abstracts as much vital strength as is demanded by a whole day of manual labor. The reports of the Massachusetts Board of Education add other facts that, in this connection, should be deeply pondered. For example, in one public school of eighty-five pupils only fifty-four had refreshing sleep; fifty-nine had headaches or constant weariness, and only fifteen were perfectly well. In this school it was found, and similar facts are common in all our public and high schools, that, in addition to six school-hours, thirty-one studied three hours and a half; thirty-five, four hours; and twelve, from four to seven hours. And yet the most learned medical men maintain that the time devoted to brain labor, daily, should not exceed six hours for healthy men, and three hours for growing children. Alarmed at the dangerous tendencies of female education, I made another appeal to my sex, which resulted in the organization of the American Woman's Education Association, the object being to establish _endowed_ professional schools, in connection with literary institutions, in which woman's profession should be honored and taught as are the professions of men, and where woman should be trained for some self-supporting business. From this effort several institutions of a high literary character have come into existence at the West, but the organization and endowment of the professional schools is yet incomplete from many combining impediments, the chief being a want of appreciation of woman's profession, and of the _science_ and _training_ which its high and sacred duties require. But the reports of the Association will show that never before were such superior intellectual advantages secured to a new country by so economical an outlay. Let us now look at the dangers which are impending. And first, in regard to the welfare of the family state, the decay of the female constitution and health has involved such terrific sufferings, in addition to former cares and pains of maternity, that multitudes of both sexes so dread the risks of marriage as either to avoid it, or meet them by methods _always_ injurious and often criminal. Not only so, multitudes of intelligent and conscientious persons, in private and by the press, unaware of the penalties of violating nature, openly impugn the inspired declaration, "Children are a heritage of the Lord." Add to these, other influences that are robbing home of its safe and peaceful enjoyments. Of such, the condition of domestic service is not the least. We abound in domestic helpers from foreign shores, but they are to a large extent thriftless, ignorant, and unscrupulous, while as thriftless and inexperienced housekeepers, from boarding-school life, have no ability to train or to control. Hence come antagonism and ceaseless "worries" in the parlor, nursery, and kitchen, while the husband is wearied with endless complaints of breakage, waste of fuel and food, neglect, dishonesty, and deception, and home is any thing but a harbor of comfort and peace. Thus come clubs to draw men from comfortless homes, and, next, clubs for the deserted women. Meantime, domestic service--disgraced, on one side, by the stigma of our late slavery, and, on the other, by the influx into our kitchens of the uncleanly and ignorant--is shunned by the self-respecting and well educated, many of whom prefer either a miserable pittance or the career of vice to this fancied degradation. Thus comes the overcrowding in all avenues for woman's work, and the consequent lowering of wages to starvation prices for long protracted toils. From this come diseases to the operatives, bequeathed often to their offspring. Factory girls must stand ten hours or more, and consequently in a few years debility and disease ensue, so that they never can rear healthy children, while the foreigners who supplant them in kitchen labor are almost the only strong and healthy women to rear large families. The sewing-machine, hailed as a blessing, has proved a curse to the poor; for it takes away profits from needlewomen, while employers testify that women who use this machine for steady work, in two years or less become hopelessly diseased and can rear no children. Thus it is that the controlling political majority of New-England is passing from the educated to the children of ignorant foreigners. Add to these disastrous influences, the teachings of "free love;" the baneful influence of spiritualism, so called; the fascinations of the _demi-monde_; the poverty of thousands of women who, but for desperate temptations, would be pure--all these malign influences are sapping the foundations of the family state. Meantime, many intelligent and benevolent persons imagine that the grand remedy for the heavy evils that oppress our sex is to introduce woman to political power and office, to make her a party in primary political meetings, in political caucuses, and in the scramble and fight for political offices; thus bringing into this dangerous _melee_ the distinctive tempting power of her sex. Who can look at this new danger without dismay? But it is neither generous nor wise to join in the calumny and ridicule that are directed toward philanthropic and conscientious laborers for the good of our sex, because we fear their methods are not safe. It would be far wiser to show by example a better way. Let us suppose that our friends have gained the ballot and the powers of office: are there any real beneficent measures for our sex, which they would enforce by law and penalties, that fathers, brothers, and husbands would not grant to a united petition of our sex, or even to a majority of the wise and good? Would these not confer what the wives, mothers, and sisters deemed best for themselves and the children they are to train, very much sooner than they would give power and office to our sex to enforce these advantages by law? Would it not be a wiser thing to _ask_ for what we need, before trying so circuitous and dangerous a method? God has given to man the physical power, so that all that woman may gain, either by petitions or by ballot, will be the gift of love or of duty; and the ballot never will be accorded till benevolent and conscientious men are the majority--a millennial point far beyond our present ken. The American Woman's Education Association aims at a plan which its members believe, in its full development, will more effectually remedy the "wrongs of woman" than any other urged on public notice. Its general aim has been stated; its details will appear at another time and place. Its managers include ladies of high character and position from six religious denominations, and also some of the most reliable business men of New York. Any person who is desirous to aid by contributions to this object can learn more of the details of the plan by addressing me at No. 69 West Thirty-eighth Street. But it is needful to state that letters from those who seek aid or employment of any sort can not be answered at present, nor for some months to come. Every woman who wishes to aid in this effort for the safety and elevation of our sex can do so by promoting the sale of this work, and its introduction as a text-book into schools. An edition for the use of schools will be in readiness next fall, which will contain school exercises, and questions that will promote thought and discussion in classrooms, in reference to various topics included in the science of Domestic Economy. And it is hoped that a previous large sale of the present volume will prepare the public mind to favor the introduction of this branch of study into both public and private schools. Ladies who write for the press, and all those who have influence with editors, can aid by directing general attention to this effort. All the profits of the authors derived from the edition of this volume prepared for schools, will be paid into the Treasury of the A. W.E. Association, and the amount will be stated in the annual reports. The complementary volume of this work will follow in a few months, and will consist, to a great extent, of _receipts and directions_ in all branches of domestic economy, especially in the department of _healthful and economical cooking_. The most valuable receipts in my _Domestic Receipt Book_, heretofore published by the Harpers, will be retained, and a very large number added of new ones, which are healthful, economical, and in many cases ornamental. One special aim will be to point out modes of _economizing labor_ in preparing food. Many directions will be given that will save from purchasing poisonous milk, meats, beers, and other medicated drinks. Directions for detecting poisonous ingredients in articles for preserving the hair, and in cosmetics for the complexion, which now are ruining health, eyesight, and comfort all over the nation, will also be given. Particular attention will be given to modes of preparing and preserving clothing, at once economical, healthful, and in good taste. A large portion of the book will be devoted to instruction, in the various ways in which women may _earn an independent livelihood_, especially in employments that can be pursued in sunlight and the open air. Should any who read this work wish for more minute directions in regard to ventilation of a house already built, or one projected, they can obtain his aid by addressing Lewis Leeds, No. 110 Broadway, New York City. His associate, Mr. Herman Kreitler, who prepared the architectural plans in this work relating to Mr. Leeds's system, can be addressed at the same place. CATHARINE E. BEECHER. NEW YORK, June 1, 1869. APPENDIX. GLOSSARY OF SUCH WORDS AND PHRASES AS MAY NOT EASILY BE UNDERSTOOD BY THE YOUNG READER [Many words not contained in this GLOSSARY will be found explained in the body of the work, in the places where they first occur.] _Action brought by the Commonwealth:_ A prosecution conducted in the name of the public, or by the authority of the State. _Albumen:_ Nourishing matter stored up between the undeveloped germ and its protecting wrappings in the seed of many plants. It is the flowery part of grain, the oily part of poppy seeds, the fleshy part in cocoa- nuts, etc. _Alcoholic:_ Made of or containing alcohol, an inflammable liquid which is the basis of ardent spirits. _Alkali,_ (plural, _alkalies:_) A chemical substance, which has the property of combining with and neutralizing the properties of acids, producing salts by the combination. Alkalies change most of the vegetable blues and purples to green, red to purple, and yellow to brown. _Caustic alkali:_ An alkali deprived of all impurities, being thereby rendered more caustic and violent in its operation. This term is usually applied to pure potash. _Fixed alkali:_ An alkali that emits no characteristic smell, and can not be volatilized or evaporated without great difficulty. Potash and soda are called the fixed alkalies. Soda is also called a _fossil_ or _mineral alkali,_ and potash the _vegetable alkali. Volatile alkali:_ An elastic, transparent, colorless, and consequently an invisible gas, known by the name of ammonia or ammoniacal gas. The odor of spirits of hartshorn is caused by this gas. _Anglo-American:_ English-American, relating to Americans descended from English ancestors. _Anther:_ That part of the stamen of a flower which contains the pollen or farina, a sort of mealy powder or dust, which is necessary to the production of the flower. _Anthracite:_ One of the must valuable kinds of mineral coal, containing no bitumen. It is very abundant in the United States. _Aperient:_ Opening. _Archaology:_ A discourse or treatise on antiquities. _Arrow-root_: A white powder, obtained from the fecula or starch, of several species of tuberous plants in the East and West Indies, Bermuda, and other places. That from Bermuda is most highly esteemed. It is used as an article for the table, in the form of puddings, and also as a highly nutritive, easily digested, and agreeable food for invalids. It derives its name from having been originally used by the Indians as a remedy for the poison of their arrows, by mashing and applying it to the wound. _Articulating process_: The protuberance or projecting part of a bone, by which it is so joined to another bone as to enable the two to move upon each other. _Asceticism_: The state of an ascetic or hermit, who flies from society and lives in retirement, or who practices a greater degree of mortification and austerity than others do, or who inflicts extraordinary severities upon himself. _Astral lamp_: A lamp, the principle of which was invented by Benjamin Thompson, (a native of Massachusetts, and afterward Count Rumford,) in which the oil is contained in a large horizontal ring, having at the centre a burner which communicates with the ring by tubes. The ring is placed a little below the level of the flame, and from its large surface affords a supply of oil for many hours. _Astute_: Shrewd. _Auricles_: (From a Latin word, signifying the ear,) the name given to two appendages of the heart, from their fancied resemblance to the ear. _Baglivi, (George)_: An eminent physician, who was born at Ragusa, in 1668, and was educated at Naples and Paris. Pope Clement XIV., on the ground of his great merit, appointed him, while a very young man, Professor of Anatomy and Surgery in the College of Sapienza, at Rome. He wrote several works, and did much to promote the cause of medical science. He died A.D. 1706. _Bass_, or bass-wood: A large forest-tree of America, sometimes called the lime-tree. The wood is white and soft, and the bark is sometimes used for bandages. _Bell, Sir Charles_: A celebrated surgeon, who was born in Edinburgh, in the year 1778. He commenced his career in London, in 1806, as a lecturer on Anatomy and Surgery. In 1830, he received the honors of knighthood, and in 1836 was appointed Professor of Surgery in the College of Edinburgh. He died near Worcester, in England, April 29th, 1842. His writings are very numerous and have been, much celebrated. Among the most important of these, to general readers, are his _Illustrations of Paley's Natural Theology_, and his treatise on _The Hand, its Mechanism and Vital Endowments, as evincing Design_. _Bergamot_: A fruit which was originally produced by ingrafting a branch of a citron or lemon-tree upon the stock of a peculiar kind of pear, called the bergamot pear. _Biased_: Cut diagonally from one corner to another of a square or rectangular piece of cloth. _Bias pieces_: Triangular pieces cut as above mentioned. _Bituminous_: Containing _bitumen_, which is an inflammable mineral substance, resembling tar or pitch in its properties and uses. Among different bituminous substances, the names _naphtha_ and _petrolium_ have been given to those which are fluid, _maltha_, to that which has the consistence of pitch, and _asphaltum_ to that which is solid. _Blight_: A disease in plants by which they are blasted, or prevented from producing fruit. _Blonde lace_: Lace made of silk. _Blood heat_: The temperature which the blood is always found to maintain, or ninety-eight degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer. _Blue vitriol_: Sulphate of copper. _Blunts_: Needles of a short and thick shape, distinguished from _Sharps_, which are long and slender. _Booking_: A kind of thin carpeting or coarse baize. _Botany_: (From a Greek word signifying an herb,) a knowledge of plants; the science which treats of plants. _Brazil wood_: The central part or heart of a large tree which grows in Brazil, called the _Caesalpinia echinata_. It produces very lively and beautiful red tints, but they are not permanent. _Bronze_: A metallic composition, consisting of copper and tin. _Brulure_: A French term, denoting a burning or scalding; a blasting of plants. _Brussels_, (carpet:) A kind of carpeting, so called from the city of Brussels, in Europe. Its basis is composed of a warp and woof of strong linen threads, with the warp of which are intermixed about five times the quantity of woolen threads of different colors. _Bulb_: A root with a round body, like the onion, turnip, or hyacinth. _Bulbous_: Having a bulb. _Byron, (George Gordon,) Lord_: A celebrated poet, who was born in London, January 23d, 1788, and died in Missolonghi, in Greece, April 18th, 1824. _Calisthenics_: From two Greek words--_kalos_, beauty, and _sthenos_, strength, being the union of both. _Camwood_: A dyewood, procured from a leguminous (or pod-bearing) tree, growing on the western coast of Africa, and called _Baphianitida_. _Canker-worm_: A worm which is very destructive to trees and plants. It springs from an egg deposited by a miller that issues from the ground, and in some years destroys the leaves and fruit of apple and other trees. _Capillary_: A minute, hair-like tube. _Carbon_: A simple, inflammable body, forming the principal part of wood and coal, and the whole of the diamond. _Carbonic acid:_ A compound gas, consisting of one part of carbon and two parts of oxygen; fatal to animal life. It has lately been obtained in a solid form. _Carbonic Oxide:_ A compound, consisting of one part of carbon and one part of oxygen; it is fatal to animal life. Burns with a pale, blue flame, forming carbonic acid. _Carmine:_ A crimson color, the most beautiful of all the reds. It is prepared from a decoction of the powdered cochineal insect, to which alum and other substances are added. _Caseine:_ One of the great forms of blood-making matter; the cheesy or curd-part of milk; found in both animal and vegetable kingdoms. _Caster:_ A small vial or vessel for the table, in which to put vinegar, mustard, pepper, etc. Also, a small wheel on a swivel-joint, on which furniture may be turned in any direction. _Chancellor of the Exchequer: In England, the highest judge of the law; the principal financial minister of a government, and the one who manages its revenue. _Chateau:_ A castle, a mansion. _Chemistry:_ The science which treats of the elementary constituents of bodies. _Chinese belle,_ deformities of: In China, it is the fashion to compress the feet of female infants, to prevent their growth; in consequence of which, the feet of all the females of China are distorted, and so small that the individuals can not walk with ease. _Chloride:_ A compound of chlorine and some other substance. _Chlorine_ is a simple substance, formerly called oxymuriatic acid. In its pure state, it is a gas of green color, (hence its name, from a Greek word signifying green.) Like oxygen, it supports the combustion of some inflammable substances. _Chloride of lime_ in a compound of chlorine and lime. _Cholera infantum:_ A bowel-complaint to which infants are subject. _Chyle:_ A white juice formed from the chyme, and consisting of the finer and more nutritious parts of the food. It is afterward converted into blood. _Chyme:_ The result of the first process which food undergoes in the stomach previously to its being converted into chyle. _Cicuta:_ The common American hemlock, an annual plant of four or five feet in height, and found commonly along walls and fences and about old ruins and buildings. It is a virulent poison as well as one of the most important and valuable medicinal vegetables. It is a very different plant from the hemlock-tree or _Pinus Canadiensis_. _Clarke, (Sir Charles Mansfield,) Dr.:_ A distinguished English physician and surgeon, who was born, in London, May 28th, 1783. Ha was appointed physician to Queen Adelaide, wife of King William IV., in 1830, and in 1831 he was created a baronet. He was the author of several valuable medical works. _Cobalt:_ A brittle metal, of a reddish-gray color and weak metallic lustre, used in coloring glass. It is not easily melted nor oxidized in the air. _Cochineal:_ A color procured from the cochineal insect, (or _Coccus cacti,_) which feeds upon the leaves of several species of the plant called cactus, and which is supposed to derive its coloring matter from its food. Its natural color is crimson; but, by the addition of a preparation of potash, it yields a rich scarlet dye. _Cologne-water:_ A fragrant perfume, which derives its name from having been originally made in the city of Cologne, which is situated on the river Rhine, in Germany. The best kind is still procured from that city. _Comparative anatomy:_ The science which has for its object a comparison of the anatomy, structure, and functions of the various organs of animals, plants, etc., with those of the human body. _Confection:_ A sweetmeat; a preparation of fruit with sugar; also a preparation of medicine with honey, syrup, or similar saccharine substance, for the purpose of disguising the unpleasant taste of the medicine. _Cooper, Sir Astley Paston:_ A celebrated English surgeon, who was born at Brooke, in Norfolk county, England, August 23d, 1768, and commenced the practice of surgery in London, in 1792. He was appointed surgeon to King George IV. in 1827, was created a baronet in 1831, and died February 12th, 1841. He was the author of many valuable works. _Copal:_ A hard, shining, transparent resin, of a light citron color, brought originally from Spanish-America, and now almost wholly from the East-Indies. It is principally employed in the preparation of _copal varnish._ _Copper, Sulphate of:_ See _Sulphate of copper. _Copperas:_ (Sulphate of iron or green vitriol,) a bright green mineral substance, formed by the decomposition of a peculiar ore of iron called pyrites, which is a sulphuret of iron. It is first in the form of a greenish-white powder or crust, which is dissolved in water, and beautiful green crystals of copperas are obtained by evaporation. It is principally used in dyeing and in making black ink. Its solution, mixed with a decoction of oak bark, produces a black color. _Coronary:_ Relating to a crown or garland. In anatomy, it is applied to arteries which encompass the heart, in the manner, as it is fancied, of a garland. _Corrosive sublimate:_ A poisonous substance composed of chlorine and quicksilver. _Cosmetics:_ Preparations which, some people foolishly think will preserve and beautify the skin. _Cream of tartar_: See _Tartar_. _Curculio_: A weevil or worm, which affects the fruit of the plum-tree and sometimes that of the apple-tree, causing the unripe fruit to fall to the ground. _Cuvier, Baron_: The moat eminent naturalist of the present age; was born A. D. 1769, and died A.D. 1832. He was Professor of Natural History in the College of France, and held various important posts under the French government at different times. His works on Natural History are of the greatest value. _Cynosure_: The constellation of the Lesser Bear, containing the star near the North Pole, by which sailors steer. It is used, in a figurative sense, as synonymous with _pole-star_ or _guide_, or anything to which the eyes of many are directed. _De Tocqueville_: See _Tocqueville_. _Diamond cement_: A cement sold in the shops, and used for mending broken glass and similar articles. _Drab_: A thick woolen cloth, of a light brown or dun color. The name is sometimes used for the color itself. _Dredging-box_: A box with holes in the top, used to sift or scatter flour on meat when roasting. _Drill_: (In husbandry,) to sow grain in rows, drills, or channels; the row of grain so sowed. _Duchess of Orleans_: See _Orleans_. The _East_, and the _Eastern States_: Those of the United States situated in the north-east part of the country, including Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Vermont. _Elevation_, (of a house:) A plan representing the upright view of a house, as a ground-plan shows its appearance on the ground. _Euclid_: A celebrated mathematician, who was born in Alexandria, in Egypt, about two hundred and eighty years before Christ. He distinguished himself by his writings on music and geometry. The most celebrated of his works is his _Elements of Geometry_, which is in use at the present day. He established a school at Alexandria, which became so famous that, from his time to the conquest of Alexandria by the Saracens, (A.D. 646,) no mathematician was found who had not studied at Alexandria. Ptolemy, King of Egypt, was one of his pupils; and it was to a question of this king, whether there was not a shorter way of coming at geometry than by the study of his _Elements_, that Euclid made the celebrated answer, "There is no royal path to geometry." _Equator_ or _equinoctial line_: An imaginary line passing round the earth, from east to west and directly under the sun, which always shines nearly perpendicularly down upon all countries situated near the equator. _Evolve_: To throw off, to discharge. _Exchequer:_ A court in England in which the Chancellor presides, and where the revenues of and the debts due to the king, are recovered. This court was originally established by King William, (called "the Conqueror,") who died A.D. 1087; and its name is derived from a checkered cloth (French _echiquier_, a chess-hoard, checker-work) on the table. _Excretion:_ Something discharged from the body, a separation of animal matters. _Excrementitious:_ Consisting of matter excreted from the body; containing excrements. _Fahrenheit, (Gabriel Daniel:)_ A celebrated natural philosopher, who was born at Dantzig, A.D. 1686. He made great improvements in the thermometer, and his name is sometimes used for that instrument. _Farinaceous:_ Mealy, tasting like meal. _Fell:_ To turn down on the wrong side the raw edges of a seam after it has been stitched, run, or sewed, and then to hem or sew it to the cloth. _Festivals_ of the Jews, the three great annual: These were, the Feast of the Passover, that of Pentecost, and that of Tabernacles; on occasion of which, all the males of the nation were required to visit the temple at Jerusalem, in whatever part of the country they might reside. See Exodus 28:14, 17; 34:23; Leviticus 33: 4; Deuteronomy 16:16. The Passover was kept in commemoration of the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt, and was so named because the night before their departure the destroying angel, who slew all the first-born of the Egyptians, _passed over_ the houses of the Israelites without entering them. See Exodus 12. The Feast of Pentecost was so called from a word meaning _the fiftieth_, because it was celebrated on the fiftieth day after the Passover, and was instituted in commemoration of the giving of the Law from Mount Sinai on the fiftieth day from the departure out of Egypt. It is also called the Feast of Weeks, because it was kept seven weeks after the Passover. See Exodus 34:32; Leviticus 23: 15-21; Deuteronomy 16: 9, 10. The Feast of Tabernacles, or Feast of Tents, was so called because it was celebrated under tents or tabernacles of green boughs, and was designed to commemorate their dwelling in tents during their passage through the wilderness. At this feast they also returned thanks, to God for the fruits of the earth after they had been gathered. See Exodus 23: 16; Leviticus 33: 34-44; Deuteronomy 16:13; and also St. John 7: 2. _Fire-blight:_ A disease in the pear and some other fruit-trees, in which they appear burnt as if by fire. It is supposed, by some to be caused by an insect, others suppose it to be caused by-an over-abundance of sap. _Fluting-iron:_ An instrument for making flutes, channels, furrows, or hollows in ruffles, etc. _Foundation muslin_: A nice kind of buckram, stiff and white, used for the foundation or basis of bonnets, etc. _Free States_: A phrase formerly used to distinguish those States in which slavery was not allowed, as distinguished from Slave States, in which slavery did exist. _French chalk_: A variety of the mineral called talc, unctuous to the touch, of greenish color, glossy, soft, and easily scratched, and leaving a silvery line when drawn on paper. It is used for marking on cloth, and extracting grease-spots. _Fuller's earth_: A species of clay remarkable for its property of absorbing oil, for which reason it is valuable for extracting grease from cloth, etc. It is used by fullers in scouring and cleansing cloth, whence its name. _Fustic_: The wood of a tree which grows in the West-Indies called _Morus tinctoria_. It affords a durable but not very brilliant yellow dye, and is also used in producing some greens and drab colors. _Gastric_: (From the Greek [Transliterated: gasths], _gaster_, the belly,) belonging or relating to the belly, or stomach. _Gastric juice_: The fluid which dissolves the food in the stomach. It is limpid, like water, of a saltish taste, and without odor. _Geology_: The science which treats of the formation of the earth. _Gluten_: The glue-like, sticky, tenacious substance which gives adhesiveness to dough. The principle of gelly, (now generally written _jelly_.) _Gore_: A triangular piece of cloth. _Goring_: Cut in a triangular shape. _Gothic_: A peculiar and strongly-marked style of architecture, sometimes called the ecclesiastical style, because it is most frequently used in cathedrals, churches, abbeys, and other religious edifices. Its principle seems to have originated in the imitation of groves and bowers, under which the ancients performed their sacred rites; its clustered pillars and pointed arches very well representing the trunks of trees and their in-locking branches. _Gourmand_ or _Gormand_: A glutton, a greedy eater. In agriculture, it is applied to twigs which take up the sap but bear only leaves. _Green vitriol_: See _Copperas_. _Griddle_: An iron pan, of a peculiarly broad and shallow construction, used for baking cakes. _Ground-plan_: The map or plan of the floor of any building, in which the various apartments, windows, doors, fire-places, and other things are represented, like the rivers, towns, mountains, roads, etc., on a map. _Gum Arabic_: A vegetable juice which exudes through the bark of the _Acacia, Mimosa nilotica_, and some other similar trees growing in Arabia, Egypt, Senegal, and Central Africa. It is the purest of all gums. _Hardpan_: The hard, unbroken layer of earth below the mould or cultivated soil. _Hartshorn_, (spirits of:) A volatile alkali, originally prepared from the horns of the stag or hart, but now procured from various other substances. It is known by the name of ammonia or spirits of ammonia. _Hemlock_: see _Cicuta. _Horticulturist:_ One skilled in horticulture, or the art of cultivating gardens: horticulture being to the garden what agriculture is to the farm, the application of labor and science to a limited spot, for convenience, for profit, or for ornament--though implying a higher state of cultivation than is common in agriculture. It includes the cultivation of culinary vegetables and of fruits, and forcing or exotic gardening as far as respects useful products. _Hydrogen_: A very light, inflammable gas, of which water is in part composed. It is used to inflate balloons. _Hypochondriasis_: Melancholy, dejection, a disorder of the imagination, in which the person supposes he is afflicted with various diseases. _Hysteria or hysterics_: A spasmodic, convulsive affection of the nerves, to which women are subject. It is somewhat similar to hypochondriasis in men. _Ingrain_: A kind of carpeting, in which the threads are dyed in the grain or raw material before manufacture. _Ipecac_: (An abbreviation of _ipecacuanha_) an Indian medicinal plant, acting as an emetic. _Isinglass_: A fine kind of gelatin or glue, prepared from the swimming-bladders of fishes, used as a cement, and also as an ingredient in food and medicine. The name is sometimes applied to a transparent mineral substance called mica. _Jams_: A side-piece or post. _Kamtschadales_: Inhabitants of _Kamtschatka_, a large peninsula situated on the north-eastern coast of Asia, having the North Pacific Ocean on the east. It is remarkable for its extreme cold, which is heightened by a range of very lofty mountains extending the whole length of the peninsula, several of which are volcanic. It is very deficient in vegetable productions, but produces a great variety of animals, from which the richest and most valuable furs are procured. The inhabitants are in general below the common height, but have broad shoulders and large heads. It is under the dominion of Russia. _Kerosene_: Refined Petroleum, which see. _Kink_: A knotty twist in a thread or rope. _Lambrequin_: Originally a kind of pendent scarf or covering attached to a helmet to protect and adorn it. Hence, a pendent ornamental curtain over a window. _Lapland_: A country at the extreme north part of Europe, where it is very cold. It contains lofty mountains, some of which are covered with perpetual snow and ice. _Latin:_ The language of the Latins or inhabitants of Latium, the principal country of ancient Italy. After the building of Rome, that city became the capital of the whole country. _Leguminous:_ Pod-bearing. _Lent:_ A fast of the Christian Church, (lasting forty days, from Ash-Wednesday to Easter,) in commemoration of our Saviour's miraculous fast of forty days and forty nights in the wilderness. The word Lent means spring, this fast always occurring at that season of the year. _Levite:_ One of the tribe of Levi, the son of Jacob, which tribe was set apart from the others to minister in the services of the Tabernacle, and the Temple at Jerusalem. The priests were taken from this tribe. See Numbers 1: 47-53. _Ley:_ Water which has percolated through ashes, earth, or other substances, dissolving and imbibing a part of their contents. It is generally spelled _lye_. _Linnaeus, (Charles:)_ A native of Sweden, and the most celebrated naturalist of his age. He was born May 13th, 1707, and died January 11th, 1778. His life was devoted to the study of natural history. The science of botany, in particular, is greatly indebted to his labors. His _Amaenitates Academicae_ (Academical Recreations) is a collection of the dissertations of his pupils, edited by himself, a work rich in matters relating to the history and habits of plants. He was the first who arranged Natural History into a regular system, which has been generally called by his name. His proper name was Linne. _Lobe:_ A division, a distinct part; generally applied to the two divisions of the lungs. _Loire:_ The largest river of France, being about five hundred and fifty miles in. length. It rises in the mountains of Cevennes, and empties into the Atlantic Ocean about forty miles below the city of Nantes. It divides France into two almost equal parts. _London Medical Society:_ A distinguished association, formed in 1773. It has published some valuable volumes of its transactions. It has a library of about 40,000 volumes, which is kept in a house presented to the Society, in 1788, by the celebrated Dr. Lettsom, who was one of its first members. _Louis XIV.:_ A celebrated King of France and Navarre, who was born September 5th, 1638, and died September 1st, 1715. His mother having before had no children, though she had been married twenty-two years, his birth was considered as a particular favor from heaven, and he was called the "Gift of God." He is sometimes styled "Louis the Great," is notorious as a period of licentiousness. He left behind him monuments of unprecedented splendor and expense, consisting of palaces, gardens, and other like works. _Lumbar:_(From the Latin lumbus, the loin,) relating or pertaining to the loins. _Lunacy, writ of:_ A judicial proceeding to ascertain whether a person be a lunatic. _Mademoiselle:_ The French word for miss, a young girl. _Magnesia:_ A light and white alkaline earth, which enters into the composition of many rocks, communicating to them a greasy or soapy feeling and a striped texture, with sometimes a greenish color. _Malaria:_ (Italian, _mal/aria, bad air_,) a noxious vapor or exhalation; a state of the atmosphere or soil, or both, which, in certain regions and in warm weather, produces fever, sometimes of great violence. _Mammon:_ Riches, the Syrian god of riches. See Luke 16:11-13; St. Matthew 6:24. _Mexico:_ A country situated south-west of the United States and extending to the Pacific Ocean. _Miasms:_ Such particles or atoms as are supposed to arise from distempered, putrefying, or poisonous bodies. _Michilimackinac_ or _Mackinac:_ (Now frequently corrupted into _Mackinaw_, which is the usual pronunciation of the name,) a military post in the State of Michigan, situated upon an island, about nine miles in circuit, in the strait which connects Lakes Michigan and Huron. It is much resorted to by Indians and fur-traders. The highest summit of the island is about three hundred feet above the lakes and commands an extensive view of them. _Midsummer:_ With us, the time when the sun arrives at his greatest distance from the equator, or about the twenty-first of June, called, also the summer solstice, (from the Latin _sol, the sun_ and _sto, to stop_ or _stand still_,) because when the sun reaches this point he seems to stand still for some time, and then appears to retrace his steps. The days are then longer than at any other time. _Migrate:_ To remove from one place to another; to change residence. _Mildew:_ A disease of plants; a mould, spot, or stain in paper, cloths, etc., caused by moisture. _Militate:_ To oppose, to operate against. _Millinet:_ A coarse kind of stiff muslin, formerly used for the foundation or basis of bonnets, etc. _Mineralogy:_ A science which treats of the inorganic natural substances found upon or in the earth, such as earths, salts, metals, etc., and which are called by the general name of minerals. _Minutiae:_ The smallest particulars. _Monasticism:_ Monastic life; religiously recluse life in a monastery or house of religious retirement. _Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley:_ One of the most celebrated among the female literary characters of England. She was daughter of Evelyn, Duke of Kingston, and was born about 1690, at Thoresby, in England She displayed uncommon abilities at a very early age, and was educated by the best masters in the English, Latin, Greek, and French languages. She accompanied her husband (Edward Wortley Montagu) on an embassy to Constantinople, and her correspondence with her friends was published and much admired. She introduced the practice of inoculation for the small-pox into England, which proved of great benefit to millions. She died at the age of seventy-two, A.D. 1762. _Moral Philosophy:_ The science which treats of the motives and rules of human actions, and of the ends to which they ought to be directed. _Moreen: A kind of woolen stuff used for curtains, covers of cushions, bed hangings, etc. _Mortise: A cavity cut into a piece of timber to receive the end of another piece called the _Tenon_. _Mucous:_ Having the nature of _mucus, a glutinous, sticky, thready, transparent fluid, of a salt savor, produced by different membranes of the body, and serving to protect the membranes and other internal parts against the action of the air, food, etc. The fluid of the mouth and nose is mucus. _Mucous membrane: That membrane which lines the mouth, nose, intestines, and other open cavities of the body. _Muriatic acid: An acid composed of chlorine and hydrogen, called also, hydrochloric acid and spirit of salt. _Mush-stick:_ A stick to use in stirring _mush, which is corn-meal boiled in water. _Nankeen_ or _Nankin:_ A light cotton cloth, originally brought from Nankin, in China, whence its name. _Nash, (Richard:)_ Commonly called _Beau Nash, or King of Bath, a celebrated leader of the fashions in England. He was born at Swansea, in South-Wales, October 8th, 1674, and died in the city of Bath, (England,) February 3d, 1761. _Natural History:_ The history of animals, plants, and minerals. _Natural Philosophy:_ The science which treats of the powers of nature, the properties of natural bodies, and their action one upon another. It is sometimes called _physics_. _New-milch cow:_ A cow which has recently calved. _Newton, (Sir Isaac:)_ An eminent English philosopher and mathematician, who was born on Christmas day, 1642, and died March. 20th, 1727. He was much distinguished for his very important discoveries in Optics and other branches of Natural Philosophy. See the first volume of _Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties_, forming the fourteenth volume of _The School Library_, larger series. _Night-Soil:_ Human excrement, so-called because usually removed from privies by night. _Non-bearers:_ Plants which bear no flowers nor fruit. _Northern States_: Those of the United States situated in the northern and eastern part of the country. _Ordinary_: See _Physician in ordinary_. _Oil of Vitriol_: (sulphuric acid, or vitriolic acid,) an acid composed of oxygen and sulphur. _Oino-mania_: A disease of the brain produced by excessive use of alcoholic stimulants; derived from two Greek words, _oinos_, wine, and _mania_, madness. The same disease sometimes arises from overuse of tobacco and other stimulants of the nerves. _Orleans, (Elizabeth Charlotte de Baviere) Duchess of_: Second wife of Philippe, the brother of Louis XIV., was born at Heidelberg, May 26th, 1652, and died at the palace of St. Cloud, in Paris, December 8th, 1722. She was author of several works; among which were _Memoirs and Anecdotes of the Court of Louis XIV._ _Ottoman_: A kind of hassock or thick mat for kneeling upon; so-called from being used by the Ottomans or Turks. _Oxalic acid_: a vegetable acid, which exists in sorrel. _Oxide_: A compound of a substance with oxygen, though not enough oxygen to produce an acid; for example, oxide of iron, or rust of metals. _Oxidize_: To combine oxygen with a body without producing acidity. _Oxygen_: The vital element of air, a simple and very important substance which exists in the atmosphere and supports the breathing of animals and the burning of combustibles. It was called oxygen from two Greek words, signifying to produce acid, from its power of giving acidity to many compounds in which it predominates. _Oxygenized_: Combined with oxygen. _Pancreas_: A gland within the abdomen just below and behind the stomach, and providing a fluid to assist digestion. In animals, it is called the sweet-bread. _Pancreatic_: Belonging to the pancreas. _Parterre_: A level division of ground, a flower-garden. _Pearlash_: The common name for impure carbonate of potash, which in a purer form is called _Saleratus_. _Peristaltic_: Contracting in successive circles; worm-like. _Petroleum_: Rock oil, an inflammable, bituminous liquid exuding from rocks or from the earth in the neighborhood of the carboniferous or coal-bearing formation. _Phosphorous_: One of the elementary substances. _Physician in Ordinary to the Queen_: The physician who attends the Queen in ordinary cases of illness. _Pitt, William_: A celebrated English statesman, son of the Earl of Chatham. He was born May 28th, 1759, and at the age of twenty-three was made Chancellor of the Exchequer, and soon afterward Prime Minister. He died January 23d, 1806. _Political Economy_: The science which treats of the general causes affecting the production, distribution, and consumption of articles of exchangeable value, in reference to their effects upon national wealth and welfare. _Pollen_: The fertilizing dust of flowers, produced by the stamens and falling upon the pistils in order to render a flower capable of producing fruit or seed. _Potter's clay_: The clay used in making articles of pottery. _Prairie_: A French word, signifying meadow. In the United States, it is applied to the remarkable natural meadows or plains which are found in the Western States. In some of these vast and nearly level plains, the traveler may wander for days without meeting with wood or water, and see no object rising above the plane of the horizon. They are very fertile. _Prime Minister_: The person appointed by the ruler of a nation to have the chief direction and management of the public affairs. _Process_: A protuberance or projecting part of a bone. _Pulmonary_: Belonging to or affecting the lungs. _Pulmonary artery_: An artery which passes through the lungs, being divided into several branches, which form a beautiful network over the air-vessels, and finally empty themselves into the left auricle of the heart. _Puritans_: A sect which professed to follow the pure word of God in opposition to traditions, human constitutions, and other authorities. In the reign, of Queen Elizabeth, part of the Protestants were desirous of introducing a simpler, and, as they considered it, a _purer_ form of church government and worship than that established by law, from which circumstance they were called _Puritans_. In process of time, this party increased in numbers and openly broke off from the church, laying aside the English liturgy, and adopting a service-book published at Geneva by the disciples of Calvin. They were treated with great rigor by the government, and many of them left the kingdom and settled in Holland. Finding themselves not so eligibly situated in that country as they had expected to be, a portion of them embarked for America, and were the first settlers of New England. _Quixotic_: Absurd, romantic, ridiculous; from _Don Quixote_, the hero of a celebrated fictitious work written by Cervantes, a distinguished Spanish writer, and intended to reform the tastes and opinions of his country-men. _Reeking_: Smoking, emitting vapor. _Residue_: The remainder or part which remains. _Routine_: A round or course of engagements, business, pleasure, etc. _To Run a seam_: To lay the two edges of a seam together and pass the threaded needle out and in, with small stitches, a few threads below the edge and on a line with it. _To Run a stocking_: To pass a thread of yarn, with a needle, straight along each row of the stocking, as far as is desired, taking up one loop and missing two or three, until tie row is completed, so as to double the thickness at the part which is run. _Sabbatical year_: Every seventh year among the Jews, which was a year of rest for the land, when it was to be left without culture. In this year, all debts were to be remitted, and slaves set at liberty. See Exodus 21:2:23:10; Leviticus 25:2, 3, etc.; Deuteronomy 15:12; and other similar passages. _Saleratus_: See _Pearlash_. _Sal ammoniac_: A salt, called also muriate of ammonia, which derives its name from a district in Libya, Egypt, where there was a temple of Jupiter Ammon, and where this salt was found. _Scotch Highlanders_: Inhabitants of the Highlands of Scotland. _Selvedge_: The edge of cloth, a border. Improperly written _selvage_. _Service-book_: A book prescribing the order of public services in a church or congregation. _Sharps_: See _Blunts_. _Shorts_: The coarser part of wheat bran. _Shrubbery_: A plantation of shrubs. _Siberia_: A large country in the extreme northern part of Asia, having the Frozen Ocean on the north, and the Pacific Ocean on the east, and forming a part of the Russian empire. The northern part is extremely cold, almost uncultivated, and contains but few inhabitants. It furnishes fine skins, and some of the most valuable furs in the world. It also contains rich mines of iron and copper, and several kinds of precious stones. _Sinclair, Sir John_: Of whom it was said, "There is no greater name in the annals of agriculture than his," was born in Caithness, Scotland, May 10th, 1754, and became a member of the British Parliament in 1780. He was strongly opposed to the measures of the British government toward America, which produced the American Revolution. He was author of many valuable publications on various subjects. He died December 21st, 1835. _Sirloin_: The loin of beef. The appellation "sir" is the title of a knight or baronet, and has been added to the word "loin," when applied to beef, because a king of England, in a freak of good humor, once conferred the honor of knighthood upon a loin of beef. _Slack_: To loosen, to relax, to deprive of cohesion. _Soda_: An alkali, usually obtained from the ashes of marine plants. To _Spade_: To throw out earth with a spade. _Spermaceti_: An oily substance found in the head of a species of whale called the spermaceti whale. _Spindling_: Shooting into a long, small stalk. _Spinous process_: A process or bony protuberance, resembling a spine or thorn, whence it derives its name. _Spool_: A piece of cane or reed or a hollow cylinder of wood, with a ridge at each end, used to wind yarn and thread upon. _Stamen_, (plural, _stamens_ and _stamina_:) In _weaving_, the warp, the thread, any thing made of threads. In _botany_, that part of a flower on which the artificial classification is founded, consisting of the filament or stalk, and the anther, which contains the pollen or fructifying powder. _Stigma_, (plural _stigmas_ and _stigmata_:) The summit or top of the pistil of a flower. _Style_ or Stile: The part of the pistil between the germ and the stigma. _Sub-carbonate_: An imperfect carbonate. _Sulphate, Sulphates, Sulphites_: Salts formed by the combination of some base with sulphuric acid, as _Sulphate of copper_, (blue vitriol or blue stone,) a combination of sulphuric acid with copper. _Sulphate of iron_: Copperas or green vitriol. _Sulphate of lime_: Gypsum or plaster of Paris. _Sulphate of magnesia_: Epsom salts. _Sulphate of potash_: A chemical salt, composed of sulphuric acid and potash. _Sulphate of soda_: Glauber's salts. _Sulphate of zinc_: White vitriol. _Sulphuret_: A combination of an alkaline earth or metal with sulphur, as _Sulphuret of iron_, a combination of iron and sulphur. _Sulphuric acid_: Oil of vitriol, vitriolic acid. _Suture_: A sewing; the uniting of parts by stitching; the seamor joint which unites the flat bones of the skull, which are notched like the teeth of a saw, and the notches, being united together, present the appearance of a seam. _Tartar_: A substance, deposited on the inside of wine casks, consisting chiefly of tartaric acid and potash. _Cream of tartar_: The crude tartar separated from all its impurities by being dissolved in water and then crystallized, when it becomes a perfectly white powder. _Tartaric acid_: A vegetable acid which exists in the grape. _Technology_: A description of the arts, considered generally in their theory and practice as connected with moral, political, and physical science. _Three-ply_ or _triple ingrain_: A kind of carpeting, in which the threads are woven in such a manner as to make three thicknesses of the cloth. _Tic douloureux_: A painful affection of the nerves, mostly those of the face. _Tocqueville, (Alexis de:)_ A celebrated statesman and writer of France, and author of volumes on the political condition, and the penitentiaries of the United States, and other works. _Trachea_: The windpipe, so named (from a Greek word signifying _rough_) from the roughness or inequalities of the cartilages of which it is formed. _Truckle-bed_ or _Trundle-bed_: A bed that runs on wheels. _Tuber_: A solid, fleshy, roundish root, like the potato. _Tuberous_: Thick and fleshy; composed of or having tubers. _Tucks_, (improperly _Tacks_): Folds in garments. _Turmeric:_ The root of a plant called _Curcuma longa_, a native of the East-Indies, used as a yellow dye. _Twaddle:_ Idle, foolish talk or conversation. _Unbolted:_ Unsifted. _Unslacked:_ Not loosened or deprived of cohesion. Lime, when it has been slacked, crumbles to powder from being deprived of cohesion. _Valance:_ The drapery or fringe hanging round the cover of a bed, couch, or other similar article. _Vascular:_ Relating to or full of vessels. _Venetian:_ A kind of carpeting, composed of a striped woolen warp on a thick woof of linen thread, _Verisimilitude:_ Probability, resemblance to truth. _Verbatim:_ Word for word. _Vice versa:_ The side being changed, or the question reversed, or the terms being exchanged. _Viscera_, (plural of _viscus:_) Organs contained in the great cavities of the body, the skull, the abdomen, and the chest. Generally applied to the contents of the abdomen. _Vitriol:_ A compound mineral salt of a very caustic taste. _Blue Vitriol_, sulphate of copper. _Green Vitriol_, see _Copperas. _Oil of Vitriol_, sulphuric acid. _White Vitriol_, sulphate of zinc. _Waffle-iron:_ An iron utensil for the purpose of baking waffles, which are thin and soft cakes indented by the iron in which they are baked. _Wash-leather:_ A soft, pliable leather dressed with oil, and in such a way that it may be washed without shrinking. It is used for various articles of dress, as undershirts, drawers, etc., and also for rubbing silver, and other articles having a high polish. The article known in commerce as chamois or shammy leather is also called wash-leather. _Welting-cord:_ A cord sewed into the welt or border of a garment. _The West_ or _Western World_. When used in Europe, or in distinction from the Eastern World, it means America. When used in this country, the West refers to the Western States of the Union. _Western Wilds:_ The wild, thinly-settled lands of the Western States. _White vitriol:_ see _Zinc. _Wilton carpet:_ A kind of carpets made in England, and so called from the place which is the chief seat of their manufacture. They are woolen velvets with variegated colors. _Writ of lunacy_. See _Lunacy. _Xantippe:_ The wife of Socrates, noted for her violent temper and scolding propensities. The name is frequently applied to a shrew, or peevish, turbulent, scolding woman. _Zinc:_ A bluish-white metal, which is used as a constituent of brass and some other alloys. _Sulphate of Zinc_ or _White vitriol_; A combination of Zinc with sulphuric acid. 
29084	----	The transcriber trusts that the reader will not take any of the advice offered in this text. [Illustration: _Mrs. Eaton._ BUNGAY. _Published by J. & R. Childs._] _THE_ _Cook and Housekeeper's_ Complete & Universal Dictionary Including _A system of Modern Cookery in all its various Branches,_ adapted to the use of Private Families. _Also a variety of Original & Valuable Information._ _RELATIVE TO_ _Baking Brewing Carving Cleaning Collaring Curing Economy of Bees ---- of a Dairy Economy of Poultry Family Medicine Gardening Home-made Wines Pickling Potting Preserving Rules of Health_ And every other Subject connected with Domestic Economy. BY MRS. MARY EATON. BUNGAY. _Printed & Published by J. & R. Childs_ 1822. THE COOK AND HOUSEKEEPER'S COMPLETE AND UNIVERSAL DICTIONARY; INCLUDING A SYSTEM OF MODERN COOKERY, IN ALL ITS VARIOUS BRANCHES, ADAPTED TO THE USE OF _PRIVATE FAMILIES_: ALSO A VARIETY OF ORIGINAL AND VALUABLE INFORMATION. RELATIVE TO BAKING, BREWING, CARVING, CLEANING, COLLARING, CURING, ECONOMY OF BEES, ---- OF A DAIRY, ECONOMY OF POULTRY, FAMILY MEDICINE, GARDENING, HOME-MADE WINES, PICKLING, POTTING, PRESERVING, RULES OF HEALTH, AND EVERY OTHER SUBJECT CONNECTED WITH DOMESTIC ECONOMY. BY MRS. MARY EATON. _EMBELLISHED WITH ENGRAVINGS._ BUNGAY: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. AND R. CHILDS. 1823. INTRODUCTION. NOTHING is more obvious, than that experience purchased by the sacrifice of independence is bought at too dear a rate. Yet this is the only consolation which remains to many females, while sitting on the ashes of a ruined fortune, and piercing themselves with the recollection of the numerous imprudencies into which they have been led, simply for the want of better information. Not because there is any want of valuable publications, for in the present age they abound; but rather because they contain such a variety of superfluous articles, and are too indiscriminate to become generally useful. A young female, just returned from the hymeneal altar, is ready to exclaim on the first perusal, as the philosopher did who visited the metropolis, 'How many things are here which I do not want!' The volume when purchased is often found to contain what is only or chiefly adapted to those who live in "king's houses," or "who fare sumptuously every day." Indeed, it has been the failing of most works of this nature, that they have either been too contracted, or too diffuse; detailed what was unnecessary, or treated superficially what was in fact of most consequence to the great bulk of mankind. If it be objected to the present work, that it exhibits nothing new; that the experiments are founded upon the simplest rules of nature; that most of the things have been rehearsed in various forms; it is not necessary to deny or to conceal the fact, every other consideration having been subordinated to one leading object, and that is GENERAL UTILITY. It is but justice however to add, that many of the articles are perfectly ORIGINAL, having been extracted from a variety of unpublished manuscripts, obligingly and expressly furnished in aid of the present undertaking. A great number of outlandish articles are intentionally omitted, as well as a farrago of French trifles and French nonsense, in order to render the work truly worthy of the patronage of the genuine English housekeeper. It may also fairly be presumed, that the superior advantages of the present work will immediately be recognized, not only as comprehending at once the whole theory of Domestic Management, but in a form never before attempted, and which of all others is best adapted to facilitate the acquisition of useful knowledge. The alphabetical arrangement presented in the following sheets, pointing out at once the article necessary to be consulted, prevents the drudgery of going through several pages in order to find it, and supplies by its convenience and universal adaptation, the desideratum so long needed in this species of composition. _Importance of Domestic Habits and Acquirements._ Though domestic occupations do not stand so high in the general esteem as they formerly did, there are none of greater importance in social life, and none when neglected that produce a larger portion of human misery. There was a time when ladies knew nothing beyond their own family concerns; but in the present day there are many who know nothing about them. If a young person has been sent to a fashionable boarding-school, it is ten to one, when she returns home, whether she can mend her own stockings, or boil a piece of meat, or do any thing more than preside over the flippant ceremonies of the tea-table. Each extreme ought to be avoided, and care taken to unite in the female character, the cultivation of talents and habits of usefulness. In every department those are entitled to the greatest praise, who best acquit themselves of the duties which their station requires, and this it is that gives true dignity to character. Happily indeed there are still great numbers in every situation, whose example combines in a high degree the ornamental with the useful. Instances may be found of ladies in the higher walks of life, who condescend to examine the accounts of their servants and housekeepers; and by overseeing and wisely directing the expenditure of that part of their husband's income which falls under their own inspection, avoid the inconveniences of embarrassed circumstances. How much more necessary then is domestic knowledge in those whose limited fortunes press on their attention considerations of the strictest economy. There ought to be a material difference in the degree of care which a person of a large and independent estate bestows on money concerns, and that of one in inferior circumstances: yet both may very commendably employ some portion of their time and thoughts on this subject. The custom of the times tends in some measure to abolish the distinctions in rank, the education given to young people being nearly the same in all. But though the leisure of the higher sort may very well be devoted to different accomplishments, the pursuits of those in a middle sphere, if less ornamental, would better secure their own happiness, and that of others connected with them. We sometimes bring up children in a manner calculated rather to fit them for the station we wish, than that which it is likely they will actually possess; and it is in all cases worth the while of parents to consider whether the expectation or hope of raising their offspring above their own situation be well founded. There is no opportunity of attaining a knowledge of family management at school, certainly; and during vacations, all subjects that might interfere with amusement are avoided. The consequence is, when a girl in the higher ranks returns home after completing her education, her introduction to the gay world, and a continued course of pleasures, persuade her at once that she was born to be the ornament of fashionable circles, rather than descend to the management of family concerns, though by that means she might in various ways increase the comfort and satisfaction of her parents. On the other hand, persons of an inferior sphere, and especially in the lower order of middling life, are almost always anxious to give their children such advantages of education as they themselves did not possess. Whether their indulgence be productive of the happiness so kindly aimed at, must be judged by the effects, which are not very favourable if what has been taught has not produced humility in herself, and increased gratitude and respect to her parents. Were a young woman brought to relish home society, and the calm delights of an easy and agreeable occupation, before she entered into the delusive scenes of pleasure, presented by the theatre and other dissipations, it is probable she would soon make a comparison much in favour of the former, especially if restraint did not give to the latter an additional relish. If our observations were extended to the marriage state, we should find a life of employment to be the source of unnumbered pleasures. To attend to the nursing, and at least the early instruction of children, and rear a healthy progeny in the ways of piety and usefulness; to preside over the family, and regulate the income allotted to its maintenance; to make home the agreeable retreat of a husband, fatigued by intercourse with a bustling world; to be his enlightened companion, and the chosen friend of his heart; these, these are woman's duties, and her highest honour. And when it is thus evident that high intellectual attainments may find room for their exercise in the multifarious occupations of the daughter, the wife, the mother, the mistress of the house; no one can reasonably urge that the female mind is contracted by domestic employ. It is however a great comfort that the duties of life are within the reach of humbler abilities, and that she whose chief aim it is to fulfil them, will very rarely fail to acquit herself well. _Domestic Expenditure._ The mistress of a family should always remember, that the welfare and good management of the house depend on the eye of the superior; and consequently that nothing is too trifling for her notice, whereby waste may be avoided. If a lady has never been accustomed while single to think of family management, let her not on that account fear that she cannot attain it. She may consult others who are experienced, and acquaint herself with the necessary quantities of the several articles of family expenditure, in proportion to the number it consists of, together with the value of the articles it may be necessary to procure. A minute account of the annual income, and the times of payment, should be taken in writing; likewise an estimate of the supposed amount of each item of expense. Those who are early accustomed to calculations of this kind, will acquire so accurate a knowledge of what their establishment demands, as will suggest the happy medium between prodigality and parsimony, without in the least subjecting themselves to the charge of meanness. Few branches of female education are so useful as great readiness at figures, though nothing is more commonly neglected. Accounts should be regularly kept, and not the smallest item be omitted to be entered. If balanced every week, or month at longest, the income and outgoings will easily be ascertained, and their proportions to each other be duly observed. Some people fix on stated sums to be appropriated to each different article, and keep the money separate for that purpose; as house, clothes, pocket, education of children, &c. Whichever way accounts be entered, a certain mode should be adopted, and strictly adhered to. Many women are unfortunately ignorant of the state of their husband's income; and others are only made acquainted with it when some speculative project, or profitable transaction, leads them to make a false estimate of what can be afforded. It too often happens also that both parties, far from consulting each other, squander money in ways that they would even wish to forget: whereas marriage should be a state of mutual and perfect confidence, with a similarity of pursuits, which would secure that happiness it was intended to bestow. There are so many valuable women who excel as wives, that it is fair to infer there would be few extravagant ones, if they were consulted by their husbands on subjects that concern the mutual interest of both parties. Many families have been reduced to poverty by the want of openness in the man, on the subject of his affairs; and though on these occasions the women are generally blamed, it has afterwards appeared that they never were allowed to make particular enquiries, nor suffered to reason upon what sometimes appeared to them imprudent. Many families have fully as much been indebted to the propriety of female management, for the degree of prosperity they have enjoyed, as to the knowledge and activity of the husband and the father. Ready money should be paid for all such things as come not into weekly bills, and even for them some sort of check is necessary. The best places for purchasing goods should also be attended to. On some articles a discount of five per cent is allowed in London and other large cities, and those who thus pay are usually best served. Under an idea of buying cheap, many go to new shops; but it is safest to deal with people of established credit, who do not dispose of goods by underselling. To make tradesmen wait for their money is very injurious, besides that a higher price must be paid: and in long bills, articles never bought are often charged. If goods are purchased at ready-money price, and regularly entered, the exact state of the expenditure will be known with ease; for it is delay of payment that occasions so much confusion. A common-place book should always be at hand, in which to enter such hints of useful knowledge, and other observations, as are given by sensible experienced people. Want of attention to what is advised, or supposing things to be too minute to be worth regarding, are the causes why so much ignorance prevails on necessary subjects, among those who are not backward in frivolous ones. It is very necessary for the mistress of a family to be informed of the price and quality of all articles in common use, and of the best times and places for purchasing them. She should also be acquainted with the comparative prices of provisions, in order that she may be able to substitute those that are most reasonable, when they will answer as well, for others of the same kind, but which are more costly. A false notion of economy leads many to purchase as bargains, what is not wanted, and sometimes never is used. Were this error avoided, more money would remain of course for other purposes. It is not unusual among lower dealers to put off a larger quantity of goods, by assurances that they are advancing in price; and many who supply fancy articles are so successful in persuasion, that purchasers not unfrequently go beyond their original intention, and suffer inconvenience by it. Some things are certainly better for keeping, and should be laid in accordingly; but this applies only to articles in constant consumption. Unvarying rules cannot be given, for people ought to form their conduct on their circumstances. Some ladies charge their account with giving out to a superintending servant such quantities of household articles, as by observation and calculation they know to be sufficient, reserving for their own key the large stock of things usually laid in for extensive families in the country. Should there be more visitors than usual, they can easily account for an increased consumption, and vice versa. Such a degree of judgment will be respectable even in the eye of domestics, if not interested in the ignorance of their employers; and if they are, their services will not compensate the want of honesty. A bill of parcels and receipt should be required, even if the money be paid at the time of purchase; and to avoid mistakes, let the goods be compared with these when brought home. Though it is very disagreeable to suspect any one's honesty, and perhaps mistakes are often unintentional; yet it is proper to weigh meat and grocery articles when brought in, and compare them with the charge. The butcher should be ordered to send the weight with the meat, and the checks regularly filed and examined. A ticket should be exchanged for every loaf of bread, which when returned will shew the number to be paid for, as tallies may be altered, unless one is kept by each party. Those who are served with brewer's beer, or any other articles not paid for weekly or on delivery, should keep a book for entering the dates: which will not only serve to prevent overcharges, but will show the whole year's consumption at one view. `Poole's complete Housekeeper's Account book,' is very well adapted to this purpose. An inventory of furniture, linen, and china, should be kept, and the things examined by it twice a year, or oftener if there be a change of servants; into each of whose care the articles are to be entrusted, with a list, the same as is done with plate. Tickets of parchment with the family name, numbered, and specifying what bed it belongs to, should be sewed on each feather bed, bolster, pillow, and blanket. Knives, forks, and house cloths are often deficient: these accidents might be obviated, if an article at the head of every list required the former to be produced whole or broken, and the marked part of the linen, though all the others should be worn out. Glass is another article that requires care, though a tolerable price is given for broken flint-glass. Trifle dishes, butter stands, &c. may be had at a lower price than cut glass, made in moulds, of which there is a great variety that look extremely well, if not placed near the more beautiful articles. _Choice and Treatment of Servants._ The regularity and good management of a family will very much depend on the character of the servants who are employed in it, and frequently one of base and dishonest principles will corrupt and ruin all the rest. No orders, however wise or prudent, will be duly carried into effect, unless those who are to execute them are to be depended on. It behoves every mistress therefore to be extremely careful whom she takes into her service; to be very minute in investigating character, and equally cautious and scrupulously just in giving recommendations of others. Were this attended to, many bad people would be incapacitated for doing mischief, by abusing the trust reposed in them. It may fairly be asserted that the robbery, or waste, which is only a milder term for the unfaithfulness of a servant, will be laid to the charge of that master or mistress, who knowing or having well-founded suspicions of such faults, is prevailed upon by false pity, or entreaty, to slide such servant into another place. There are however some who are unfortunately capricious, and often refuse to give a character because they are displeased with the servant leaving; but this is an unpardonable violation of the right of a servant, who having no inheritance, is dependant on her fair name for employment. To refuse countenance to the evil, and to encourage the good servant, are equally due to society at large; and such as are honest, frugal, and attentive to their duties, should be liberally rewarded, which would encourage merit, and stimulate servants to acquit themselves with propriety. The contrary conduct is often visited with a kind of retributive justice in the course of a few years. The extravagant and idle in servitude are ill prepared for the industry and sobriety on which their own future welfare so essentially depends. Their faults, and the attendant punishment come home, when they have children of their own; and sometimes much sooner. They will see their own folly and wickedness perpetuated in their offspring, whom they must not expect to be better than the example and instruction given by themselves. Those who have been faithful and industrious in service, will generally retain those habits in their own families, after they are married; while those who have borne an opposite character are seldom successful in the world, but more frequently reduced to beggary and want. It is in general a good maxim, to select servants not younger than thirty. Before that age, however comfortable you may endeavour to make them, their want of experience, and the hope of something still better, prevent their being satisfied with their present state. After they have had the benefit of experience, if they are tolerably comfortable, they will endeavour to deserve the smiles of even a moderately kind master or mistress, for fear they may change for the worse. Life may indeed be very fairly divided into the seasons of hope and fear. In youth, we hope every thing may be right: in age, we fear that every thing may be wrong. At any rate it is desirable to engage a good and capable servant, for one of this description eats no more than a bad one. Considering also how much waste is occasioned by provisions being dressed in a slovenly and unskilful manner, and how much a good cook, to whom the conduct of the kitchen is confided, can save by careful management, it is clearly expedient to give better wages for one of this description, than to obtain a cheaper article which in the end will inevitably become more expensive. It is likewise a point of prudence to invite the honesty and industry of domestics, by setting them an example of liberality in this way; nothing is more likely to convince them of the value that is attached to talent and good behaviour, or to bind them to the interest of those whom they are engaged to serve. The office of the cook especially is attended with so many difficulties, so many disgusting and disagreeable circumstances, and even dangers, in order to procure us one of the greatest enjoyments of human life, that it is but justice to reward her attention and services, by rendering her situation every way as comfortable as we can. Those who think, that to protect and encourage virtue is the best preventive to vice, should give their female servants liberal wages. How else can they provide themselves the necessary articles of clothing, and save a little to help themselves in a time of a sickness, when out of place, or amidst the infirmities of age. The want of liberality and of justice in this respect is a principal source of the distress and of the degradation to which multitudes of females are reduced, and who are driven at length to seek an asylum in Foundling Hospitals and Female Penitentiaries. Good wages however are not all that a faithful servant requires; kind treatment is of far greater consequence. Human nature is the same in all stations. If you can convince your servants that you have a generous and considerate regard for their health and comfort, there is no reason to imagine that they will be insensible to the good they receive. Be careful therefore to impose no commands but what are reasonable, nor reprove but with justice and temper; the best way to ensure which is, not to lecture them till at least one day after the offence has been committed. If they have any particular hardship to endure in service, let them see that you are concerned for the necessity of imposing it. Servants are more likely to be praised into good conduct, than scolded out of bad behaviour. Always commend them when they do right; and to cherish in them the desire of pleasing, it is proper to show them that you are pleased. By such conduct ordinary servants will often be converted into good ones, and there are few so hardened as not to feel gratified when they are kindly and liberally treated. At the same time avoid all approaches to familiarity, which to a proverb is accompanied with contempt, and soon destroys the principle of obedience. When servants are sick, you are to remember that you are their patron, as well as their master or mistress; not only remit their labour, but give them all the assistance of food and physic, and every comfort in your power. Tender assiduity about an invalid is half a cure; it is a balsam to the mind, which has the most powerful effect on the body; it soothes the sharpest pains, and strengthens beyond the richest cordial. The practice of some persons in sending home poor servants to a miserable cottage, or to a workhouse, in time of illness, hoping for their services if they should happen to recover, while they contribute nothing towards it, is contrary to every principle of justice and humanity. Particular attention ought to be paid to the health of the cook, not only for her own sake, but also because healthiness and cleanliness are essential to the duties of her office, and to the wholesomeness of the dishes prepared by her hand. Besides the deleterious vapours of the charcoal, which soon undermine the health of the heartiest person, the cook has to endure the glare of a scorching fire, and the smoke, so baneful to the complexion and the eyes; so that she is continually surrounded with inevitable dangers, while her most commendable achievements pass not only without reward, but frequently without even thanks. The most consummate cook is seldom noticed by the master, or heard of by the guests, who, while they eagerly devour his dainties, and drink his wine, care very little who dressed the one or sent the other. The same observations apply to the kitchen maid or second cook, who have in large families the hardest place, and are worse paid, verifying the old proverb, 'the more work the less wages.' If there be any thing right, the cook has the praise, when any praise is given: if any thing be wrong, the kitchen maid has the blame. For this humble domestic is expected by the cook to take the entire management of all roasts and boils, fish and vegetables, which together constitute the principal part of an Englishman's dinner. The master or mistress who wishes to enjoy the rare luxury of a table well served in the best stile, should treat the cook as a friend; should watch over her health with peculiar care, and be sure that her taste does not suffer, by her stomach being deranged by bilious attacks. A small proportion of that attention usually bestowed on a favourite horse, or even a dog, would suffice to regulate her animal system. Cleanliness, and a proper ventilation to carry off smoke and steam, should be particularly attended to in the construction of a kitchen. The grand scene of action, the fire-place, should be placed where it may receive plenty of light. Too often the contrary practice has prevailed, and the poor cook is continually basted with her own perspiration; but a good state of health can never be preserved under such circumstances. _Necessity of Order and Regularity._ No family can be properly managed, where the strictest order and regularity is not observed. 'A house divided against itself cannot stand;' and if the direction of its affairs be left to accident or chance, it will be equally fatal to its comfort and prosperity. It is the part of a prudent manager to see all that is doing, and to foresee and direct all that should be done. The weakest capacity can perceive what is wrong after it has occurred; but discernment and discretion are necessary to anticipate and prevent confusion and disorder, by a well-regulated system of prompt and vigorous management. If time be wisely economised, and the useful affairs transacted before amusements are allowed, and a regular plan of employment be daily laid down, a great deal may be done without hurry or fatigue. The retrospect would also be most pleasant at the end of the year, to be able to enumerate all the valuable acquirements made, and the just and benevolent actions performed, under the active and energetic management of the mistress of a family. As highly conducive to this end, early and regular hours should be kept in the evening, and an early hour especially for breakfast in the morning. There will then be more time to execute the orders that may be given, which in general should comprise the business of the day; and servants, by doing their work with ease, will be more equal to it, and fewer of them will be necessary. It is worthy of notice, that the general expense will be reduced, and much time saved, if every thing be kept in its proper place, applied to its proper use, and mended, when the nature of the accident will allow, as soon as broken or out of repair. A proper quantity of household articles should always be ready, and more bought in before the others are consumed, to prevent inconvenience, especially in the country. Much trouble and irregularity would be prevented when there is company to dinner, if the servants were required to prepare the table and sideboard in similar order daily. As some preparation is necessary for accidental visitors, care should be taken to have constantly in readiness a few articles suited to such occasions, which if properly managed will be attended with little expense, and much convenience. _Bad habit of keeping Spare Rooms._ Though persons of large fortune may support an expensive establishment without inconvenience, it ill becomes those in the middle rank to imitate such an example. Nothing can be more ludicrous than the contrast exhibited between two families of this description; the one living in the dignified splendour, and with the liberal hospitality, that wealth can command; the other in a stile of tinsel show, without the real appropriate distinctions belonging to rank and fortune. They are lavish, but not liberal, often sacrificing independence to support dissipation, and betraying the dearest interests of society for the sake of personal vanity, and gratifying what is significantly termed 'the pride of life.' The great point for comfort and respectability is, that all the household economy should be uniform, not displaying a parade of show in one thing, and a total want of comfort in another. Besides the contemptible appearance that this must have to every person of good sense, it is often productive of fatal consequences. How common it is, in large towns especially, that for the vanity of having a showy drawing-room to receive company, the family are confined to a close back room, where they have scarcely air or light, the want of which is essentially injurious to health. To keep rooms for show belongs to the higher classes, where the house is sufficiently commodious for the family, and to admit of this also: but in private dwellings, to shut up perhaps the only room that is fit to live in, is to be guilty of a kind of self-destruction; and yet how frequently this consideration escapes persons who are disposed to render their family every comfort, but they have a grate, a carpet, and chairs too fine for every day's use. What a reflection, when nursing a sick child, to think that it may be the victim of a bright grate, and a fine carpet! Or, what is equally afflicting, to see all the children perhaps rickety and diseased from the same cause! Keeping a spare bed for ornament, rather than for use, is often attended with similar consequences. A stranger or a friend is allowed to occupy it once in so many months, and he does it at the peril of his health, and even of his life. Another bad effect of keeping spare rooms is the seeing more company, and in a more expensive manner, than is compatible with the general convenience of the family, introducing with it an expense in dress, and a dissipation of time, from which it suffers in various ways. Not the least of these is the neglect of parental instruction, which it is attempted to supply by sending the children at an improper age to school; the girls where they had better never go, and the boys where they get but little good, and perhaps are all the worse for mending. Social intercourse is not improved by parade, but quite the contrary; real friends, and the pleasantest kind of acquaintance, those who like to be social, are repulsed by it. The failure therefore is general, involving the loss of nearly all that is valuable in society, by an abortive attempt to become fashionable. _Setting out a Table._ The direction of a Table is no inconsiderable part of a lady's concern, as it involves judgment in expenditure, respectability of appearance, the comfort of her husband, and those who partake of their hospitality. It is true that the mode of covering a table, and providing for the guests, is merely a matter of taste, materially different in a variety of instances; yet nothing can be more ruinous of real comfort than the too common custom of making a profusion and a parade, unsuited not only to the circumstances of the host, but to the number of the guests; or more fatal to true hospitality than the multiplicity of dishes which luxury has made fashionable at the tables of the great, the wealthy, and the ostentatious, who are often neither great, nor wealthy, nor wise. Such excessive preparation, instead of being a compliment to the party invited, is nothing better than an indirect offence, conveying a tacit insinuation that it is absolutely necessary to provide such delicacies to bribe the depravity of their palates, when we desire the pleasure of their company, and that society must be purchased on dishonourable terms before it can be enjoyed. When twice as much cooking is undertaken as there are servants, or conveniences in the kitchen to do it properly, dishes must be dressed long before the dinner hour, and stand by spoiling; and why prepare for eight or ten more than is sufficient for twenty or thirty visitors? 'Enough is as good as a feast;' and a prudent provider, avoiding what is extravagant and superfluous, may entertain her friends three times as often, and ten times as well. Perhaps there are few incidents in which the respectability of a man is more immediately felt, than the style of dinner to which he may accidentally bring home a visitor. And here, it is not the multiplicity of articles, but the choice, the dressing, and the neat appearance of the whole that is principally regarded. Every one is to live as he can afford, and the meal of the tradesman ought not to emulate the entertainments of the higher classes; but if two or three dishes are well served, with the usual sauces, the table linen clean, the small sideboard neatly laid, and all that is necessary be at hand, the expectation of the husband and the friend will be gratified, because no irregularity of domestic arrangement will disturb the social intercourse. The same observation holds good on a larger scale. In all situations of life the entertainment should be no less suited to the station than to the fortune of the entertainer, and to the number and rank of those invited. The manner of Carving is not only a very necessary branch of information, to enable a lady to do the honours of the table, but makes a considerable difference in the consumption of a family; and though in large parties she is so much assisted as to render this knowledge apparently of less consequence, yet she must at times feel the deficiency; and should not fail to acquaint herself with an attainment, the advantage of which is evident every day. Some people haggle meat so much, as not to be able to help half a dozen persons decently from a large tongue, or a sirloin of beef; and the dish goes away with the appearance of having been gnawed by dogs. Habit alone can make good carvers; but some useful directions on this subject will be found in the following pages, under the article Carving. Half the trouble of waiting at table may be saved, by giving each guest two plates, two knives and forks, two pieces of bread, a spoon, a wine glass, and a tumbler; and by placing the wines and sauces in the centre of the table, one visitor may help another. If the party is large, the founders of the feast should sit about the middle of the table, instead of at each end. They will then enjoy the pleasure of attending equally to all their friends; and being in some degree relieved from the occupation of carving, will have an opportunity of administering all those little attentions which contribute so much to the comfort of their guests. Dinner tables are seldom sufficiently lighted, or attended; an active waiter will have enough to do to attend upon half a dozen persons. There should be half as many candles as there are guests, and their flame should not be more than eighteen inches above the table. The modern candelabras answer no other purpose than that of giving an appearance of pomp and magnificence, and seem intended to illuminate the ceiling, rather than to shed light upon the plates. _Quality of Provisions to be regarded._ The leading consideration about food ought always to be its wholesomeness. Cookery may produce savoury and elegant looking dishes, without their possessing any of the real qualities of food. It is at the same time both a serious and a ludicrous reflection, that it should be thought to do honour to our friends and to ourselves to set out a table where indigestion with all its train of evils, such as fever, rheumatism, gout, and the whole catalogue of human diseases, lie lurking in almost every dish. Yet this is both done, and taken as a compliment. The practice of flavouring custards, for example, with laurel leaves, and adding fruit kernels to the poison of spirituous liquors, though far too common, is attended with imminent danger: for let it be remembered, that the flavour given by laurel essence is the most fatal kind of poison. Children, and delicate grown-up persons, have often died suddenly from this cause, even where the quantity of the deleterious mixture was but small. How infinitely preferable is a dinner of far less show, where nobody need to be afraid of what they are eating; and such a one will always be genteel and respectable. If a person can give his friend only a leg of mutton, there is nothing of which to be ashamed, provided it is good and well dressed. Nothing can be of greater importance to the mistress of a family, than the preservation of its health; but there is no way of securing this desirable object with any degree of certainty, except her eye watches over every part of the culinary process. The subject of cookery is too generally neglected by mistresses, as something beneath their notice; or if engaged in, it is to contrive a variety of mischievous compositions, both savoury and sweet, to recommend their own ingenuity. Yet it is quite evident that every good housewife ought to be well acquainted with this important branch of domestic management, and to take upon herself at least its entire direction and controul. This is a duty which her husband, children, and domestics, have a right to expect at her hands; and which a solicitude for their health and comfort will induce her to discharge with fidelity. If cookery has been worth studying as a sensual gratification, it is much more so as the means of securing the greatest of human blessings. A house fitted up with clean good furniture, the kitchen provided with clean wholesome-looking cooking utensils, good fires, in grates that give no anxiety lest a good fire should spoil them, clean good table-linen, the furniture of the table and sideboard good of the kind without ostentation, and a well-dressed plain dinner, bespeak a sound judgment and correct taste in a private family, that place it on a footing of respectability with the first characters in the country. It is only conforming to our sphere, not vainly attempting to be above it, that can command true respect. ================================================================== _Explanation of the Plate._ VENISON. 1. Haunch. |2. Neck. |3. Shoulder. |4. Breast. BEEF. | 7. Thick Flank. |13. Shoulder or Leg _Hind Quarter._ | 8. Thin Flank. | of Mutton Piece. 1. Sirloin. | 9. Leg. |14. Brisket 2. Rump. |10. Fore Rib; five Ribs. |15. Clod. 3. Edge Bone. | |16. Neck or Sticking 4. Buttock. | _Fore Quarter._ | Piece. 5. Mouse Buttock.|11. Middle Rib; four Ribs.|17. Shin. 6. Veiny Piece. |12. Chuck; three Ribs. |18. Cheek. VEAL. 1. Loin, best End. | 6. Neck, best End. 2. Loin, Chump End. | 7. Neck, Scrag End. 3. Fillet. | 8. Blade Bone. 4. Hind Knuckle. | 9. Breast, best End. 5. Fore Knuckle. |10. Breast, Brisket End. PORK. 1. Sparerib. |4. Fore Loin. 2. Hand. |5. Hind Loin. 3. Belly or Spring. |6. Leg. MUTTON. 1. Leg. |4. Neck, best End. |7. Breast. 2. Loin, best End. |5. Neck, Scrag End. |A Chine is two Loins. 3. Loin, Chump End. |6. Shoulder. |A Saddle is two Necks. [Illustration] THE COOK AND HOUSEKEEPER'S COMPLETE AND UNIVERSAL DICTIONARY. ACID, lemon: a good substitute for this expensive article, suitable for soups, fish sauces, and many other purposes, may be made of a dram of lump sugar pounded, and six drops of lemon essence, to three ounces of crystal vinegar. The flavour of the lemon may also be communicated to the vinegar, by an infusion of lemon peel. ACIDS, to remove stains caused by acids. See STAINS. ACCIDENTS BY FIRE. Much mischief frequently arises from the want of a little presence of mind on such occasions, when it is well known that a small quantity of water speedily and properly applied, would obviate great danger. The moment an alarm of fire is given in a house, some blankets should be wetted in a tub of water, and spread on the floor of the room where the fire is, and the flames beaten out with a wet blanket. Two or three pails of water thus applied, will be more effectual than a larger quantity poured on in the usual way, and at a later period. If a chimney be on fire, the readiest way is to cover the whole front of the fire-place with a wet blanket, or thrust it into the throat of the chimney, or make a complete inclosure with the chimney-board. By whatever means the current of air can be stopped below, the burning soot will be put out as rapidly as a candle is by an extinguisher, and upon the same principle. A quantity of salt thrown into water will increase its power in quenching the flames, and muddy water is better for this purpose than clear water. Children, and especially females, should be informed, that as flame tends upward, it is extremely improper for them to stand upright, in case their clothes take fire; and as the accident generally begins with the lower part of the dress, the flames meeting additional fuel as they rise, become more fatal, and the upper part of the body necessarily sustains the greatest injury. If there be no assistance at hand in a case of this kind, the sufferer should instantly throw herself down, and roll or lie upon her clothes. A carpet, hearth rug, or green baize table cloth, quickly wrapped round the head and body, will be an effectual preservative; but where these are not at hand, the other method may easily be adopted. The most obvious means of preventing the female dress from catching fire, is that of wire fenders of sufficient height to hinder the coals and sparks from flying into the room; and nurseries in particular should never be without them. Destructive fires often happen from the thoughtlessness of persons leaving a poker in the grate, which afterward falls out and rolls on the floor or carpet. This evil may in a great measure be prevented by having a small cross of iron welded on the poker, immediately above the square part, about an inch and a half each way. Then if the poker slip out of the fire, it will probably catch at the edge of the fender; or if not, it cannot endanger the floor, as the hot end of the poker will be kept from it by resting on the cross. In cases of extreme danger, where the fire is raging in the lower part of the house, a Fire Escape is of great importance. But where this article is too expensive, or happens not to be provided, a strong rope should be fastened to something in an upper apartment, having knots or resting places for the hands and feet, that in case of alarm it may be thrown out of the window; or if children and infirm persons were secured by a noose at the end of it, they might be lowered down in safety. No family occupying lofty houses in confined situations ought to be without some contrivance of this sort, and which may be provided at a very trifling expense. Horses are often so intimidated by fire, that they have perished before they could be removed from the spot; but if a bridle or a halter be put upon them, they might be led out of the stable as easily as on common occasions. Or if the harness be thrown over a draught horse, or the saddle placed on the back of a saddle horse, the same object may be accomplished. ADULTERATIONS in baker's bread may be detected, by mixing it with lemon juice or strong vinegar: if the bread contains chalk, whiting, or any other alkali, it will immediately produce a fermentation. If ashes, alum, bones, or jalap be suspected, slice the crumb of a loaf very thin, set it over the fire with water, and let it boil gently a long time. Take it off, pour the water into a vessel, and let it stand till nearly cold; then pour it gently out, and in the sediment will be seen the ingredients which have been mixed. The alum will be dissolved in the water, and may be extracted from it. If jalap has been used, it will form a thick film on the top, and the heavy ingredients will sink to the bottom. See BEER, FLOUR, SPIRITS, WINE. AGUE. Persons afflicted with the ague ought in the first instance to take an emetic, and a little opening medicine. During the shaking fits, drink plenty of warm gruel, and afterwards take some powder of bark steeped in red wine. Or mix thirty grains of snake root, forty of wormwood, and half an ounce of jesuit's bark powdered, in half a pint of port wine: put the whole into a bottle, and shake it well together. Take one fourth part first in the morning, and another at bed time, when the fit is over, and let the dose be often repeated, to prevent a return of the complaint. If this should not succeed, mix a quarter of an ounce each of finely powdered Peruvian bark, grains of paradise, and long pepper, in a quarter of a pound of treacle. Take a third part of it as soon as the cold fit begins, and wash it down with a glass of brandy. As the cold fit goes off, and the fever approaches, take a second third part, with the like quantity of brandy; and on the following morning fasting, swallow the remainder, with the same quantity of brandy as before. Three doses of this excellent electuary have cured hundreds of persons, and seldom been known to fail. To children under nine years of age, only half the above quantity must be given. Try also the following experiment. When the cold fit is on, take an egg beaten up in a glass of brandy, and go to bed directly. This very simple recipe has proved successful in a number of instances, where more celebrated preparations have failed. AIR. Few persons are sufficiently aware, that an unwholesome air is the common cause of disease. They generally pay some attention to what they eat and drink, but seldom regard what goes into the lungs, though the latter often proves more fatal than the former. Air vitiated by the different processes of respiration, combustion, and putrefaction, or which is suffered to stagnate, is highly injurious to health, and productive of contagious disorders. Whatever greatly alters its degree of heat or cold, also renders it unwholesome. If too hot, it produces bilious and inflammatory affections: if too cold, it obstructs perspiration, and occasions rheumatism, coughs, and colds, and other diseases of the throat and breast. A damp air disposes the body to agues, intermitting fevers, and dropsies, and should be studiously avoided. Some careful housewives, for the sake of bright and polished stoves, frequently expose the health of the family in an improper manner; but fires should always be made, if in the height of summer, when the weather is wet or cold, to render the air wholesome; and let the fire-irons take care of themselves. No house can be wholesome, unless the air has a free passage through it: dwellings ought therefore to be daily ventilated, by opening the windows and admitting a current of fresh air into every room. Instead of making up beds as soon as people rise out of them, a practice much too common, they ought to be turned down, and exposed to dry fresh air from the open windows. This would expel any noxious vapours, and promote the health of the family. Houses surrounded with high walls, trees, or plantations, are rendered unwholesome. Wood, not only obstructs the free current of air, but sends forth exhalations, which render it damp and unhealthy. Houses situated on low ground, or near lakes and ponds of stagnant water, are the same: the air is charged with putrid exhalations, which produce the most malignant effects. Persons obliged to occupy such situations should live well, and pay the strictest regard to cleanliness. The effluvia arising from church-yards and other burying grounds is very infectious; and parish churches, in which many corpses are interred, become tainted with an atmosphere so corrupt, especially in the spring, when the ground begins to grow warm, that it is one of the principal sources of putrid fevers, which so often prevail at that season of the year. Such places ought to be kept perfectly clean, and frequently ventilated, by opening opposite doors and windows; and no human dwelling should be allowed in the immediate vicinity of a burying ground.--The air of large towns and cities is greatly contaminated, by being repeatedly respired; by the vapours arising from dirty streets, the smoke of chimneys, and the innumerable putrid substances occasioned by the crowd of inhabitants. Persons of a delicate habit should avoid cities as they would the plague; or if this be impracticable, they should go abroad as much as possible, frequently admit fresh air into their rooms, and be careful to keep them very clean. If they can sleep in the country, so much the better, as breathing free air in the night will in some degree make up for the want of it in the day time. Air which stagnates in mines, wells, and cellars, is extremely noxious; it kills nearly as quick as lightning, and ought therefore to be carefully avoided. Accidents occasioned by foul air might often be prevented, by only letting down into such places a lighted candle, and forbearing to enter when it is perceived to go out. The foul air may be expelled by leaving the place open a sufficient time, or pouring into it a quantity of boiling water. Introducing fresh air into confined rooms and places, by means of ventilators, is one of the most important of modern improvements.--Dyers, gilders, plumbers, refiners of metals, and artisans employed over or near a charcoal fire, are exposed to great danger from the vitiated state of the air. To avert the injury to which their lungs are thus exposed, it would be proper to place near them a flat open vessel filled with lime water, and to renew it as often as a variegated film appears on the surface. This powerfully attracts and absorbs the noxious effluvia emitted by the burning charcoal.--But if fresh air be necessary for those in health, much more so for the sick, who often lose their lives for want of it. The notion that sick people require to be kept hot is very common, but no less dangerous, for no medicine is so beneficial to them as fresh air, in ordinary cases, especially if administered with prudence. Doors and windows are not to be opened at random; but the air should be admitted gradually, and chiefly by opening the windows of some other apartment which communicates with the sick room. The air may likewise be purified by wetting a cloth in water impregnated with quick lime, then hanging it in the room till it becomes dry, and removing it as often as it appears necessary. In chronic diseases, especially those of the lungs, where there is no inflammation, a change of air is much to be recommended. Independently of any other circumstance, it has often proved highly beneficial; and such patients have breathed more freely, even though removed to a damp and confined situation. In short, fresh air contains the vitals of health, and must be sought for in every situation, as the only medium of human existence. ALABASTER. The proper way of cleaning elegant chimney pieces, or other articles made of alabaster, is to reduce some pumice stone to a very fine powder, and mix it up with verjuice. Let it stand two hours, then dip into it a sponge, and rub the alabaster with it: wash it with fresh water and a linen cloth, and dry it with clean linen rags. ALAMODE BEEF. Choose a piece of thick flank of a fine heifer or ox. Cut some fat bacon into long slices nearly an inch thick, but quite free from yellow. Dip them into vinegar, and then into a seasoning ready prepared, of salt, black pepper, allspice, and a clove, all in fine powder, with parsley, chives, thyme, savoury, and knotted marjoram, shred as small as possible, and well mixed. With a sharp knife make holes deep enough to let in the larding; then rub the beef over with the seasoning, and bind it up tight with a tape. Set it in a well tinned pot over a fire, or rather a stove: three or four onions must be fried brown and put to the beef, with two or three carrots, one turnip, a head or two of celery, and a small quantity of water. Let it simmer gently ten or twelve hours, or till extremely tender, turning the meat twice. Put the gravy into a pan, remove the fat, keep the beef covered, then put them together, and add a glass of port wine. Take off the tape, and serve with vegetables; or strain them off, and cut them into dice for garnish. Onions roasted, and then stewed with the gravy, are a great improvement. A tea-cupful of vinegar should be stewed with the beef.--Another way is to take about eleven pounds of the mouse-buttock, or clod of beef, or a blade bone, or the sticking piece, and cut it into pieces of three or four ounces each. Put two or three ounces of beef drippings, and two large onions, into a large deep stewpan; as soon as it is quite hot, flour the meat, put it into the stewpan, and keep stirring it with a wooden spoon. When it has been on about ten minutes, dredge it with flour, and keep doing so till you have stirred in as much as will thicken it. Then cover it with about a gallon of boiling water, adding it by degrees, and stirring it together. Skim it when it boils, and then put in a dram of ground black pepper, and two drams of allspice. Set the pan by the side of the fire, or at a distance over it, and let it stew very slowly for about three hours. When the meat is sufficiently tender, put it into a tureen, and send it to table with a nice sallad. ALE, allowing eight bushels of malt to the hogshead, should be brewed in the beginning of March. Pour on at once the whole quantity of hot water, not boiling, and let it infuse three hours close covered. Mash it in the first half hour, and let it stand the remainder of the time. Run it on the hops, half a pound to the bushel, previously infused in water, and boil them with the wort two hours. Cool a pailful after it has boiled, add to it two quarts of yeast, which will prepare it for putting to the rest when ready, the same night or the next day. When tunned, and the beer has done working, cover the bung-hole with paper. If the working requires to be stopped, dry a pound and a half of hops before the fire, put them into the bung-hole, and fasten it up. Ale should stand twelve months in casks, and twelve in bottles, before it be drank; and if well brewed, it will keep and be very fine for eight or ten years. It will however be ready for use in three or four months; and if the vent-peg be never removed, it will have strength and spirit to the very last. But if bottled, great care must be taken to have the bottles perfectly sweet and clean, and the corks of the best quality. If the ale requires to be refined, put two ounces of isinglass shavings to soak in a quart of the liquor, and beat it with a whisk every day till dissolved. Draw off a third part of the cask, and mix the above with it: likewise a quarter of an ounce of pearl ashes, one ounce of salt of tartar calcined, and one ounce of burnt alum powdered. Stir it well, then return the liquor into the cask, and stir it with a clean stick. Stop it up, and in a few days it will be fine. See BEER, BREWING. ALE POSSET. Beat up the yolks of ten eggs, and the whites of four; then put them into a quart of cream, mixed with a pint of ale. Grate some nutmeg into it, sweeten it with sugar, set it on the fire, and keep it stirring. When it is thick, and before it boils, take it off, and pour it into a china bason. This is called King William's Posset. A very good one may however be made by warming a pint of milk, with a bit of white bread in it, and then warming a pint of ale with a little sugar and nutmeg. When the milk boils, pour it upon the ale; let it stand a few minutes to clear, and it will make a fine cordial. ALEGAR. Take some good sweet wort before it is hopped, put it into a jar, and a little yeast when it becomes lukewarm, and cover it over. In three or four days it will have done fermenting; set it in the sun, and it will be fit for use in three or four months, or much sooner, if fermented with sour yeast, and mixed with an equal quantity of sour ale. ALLSPICE, used as an essence, is made of a dram of the oil of pimento, apothecaries' measure, mixed by degrees with two ounces of strong spirits of wine. The tincture, which has a finer flavour than the essence, is made of three ounces of bruised allspice, steeped in a quart of brandy. Shake it occasionally for a fortnight, and then pour off the clear liquor. A few drops of either will be a grateful addition to a pint of gravy, or mulled wine, or in any case where allspice is used. ALMOND BISCUITS. Blanch a quarter of a pound of sweet almonds, and pound them fine in a mortar, sprinkling them from time to time with a little fine sugar. Then beat them a quarter of an hour with an ounce of flour, the yolks of three eggs, and four ounces of fine sugar, adding afterward the whites of four eggs whipped to a froth. Prepare some paper moulds like boxes, about the length of two fingers square; butter them within, and put in the biscuits, throwing over them equal quantities of flour and powdered sugar. Bake them in a cool oven; and when of a good colour, take them out of the papers. Bitter almond biscuits are made in the same manner, except with this difference; that to every two ounces of bitter almonds must be added an ounce of sweet almonds. ALMOND CHEESECAKES. Blanch and pound four ounces of almonds, and a few bitter ones, with a spoonful of water. Add four ounces of pounded sugar, a spoonful of cream, and the whites of two eggs well beaten. Mix all as quick as possible, put it into very small pattipans, and bake in a tolerable warm oven, under twenty minutes. Or blanch and pound four ounces of almonds, with a little orange-flower or rose-water; then stir in the yolks of six and the whites of three eggs well beaten, five ounces of butter warmed, the peel of a lemon grated, and a little of the juice, sweetened with fine moist sugar. When well mixed, bake in a delicate paste, in small pans. Another way is, to press the whey from as much curd as will make two dozen small cheesecakes. Then put the curd on the back of a sieve, and with half an ounce of butter rub it through with the back of a spoon; put to it six yolks and three whites of eggs, and a few bitter almonds pounded, with as much sugar as will sweeten the curd. Mix with it the grated rind of a lemon, and a glass of brandy; put a puff-paste into the pans, and ten minutes will bake them. ALMOND CREAM. Beat in a mortar four ounces of sweet almonds, and a few bitter ones, with a tea-spoonful of water to prevent oiling, both having first been blanched. Put the paste to a quart of cream, and add the juice of three lemons sweetened; beat it with a whisk to a froth, which take off on the shallow part of a sieve, and fill the glasses with some of the liquor and the froth. ALMOND CUSTARD. Blanch and beat four ounces of almonds fine, with a spoonful of water. Beat a pint of cream with two spoonfuls of rose-water, put them to the yolks of four eggs, and as much sugar as will make it tolerably sweet. Then add the almonds, stir it all over a slow fire till of a proper thickness, without boiling, and pour it into cups. ALMOND JUMBLES. Rub half a pound of butter into a pound of flour, with half a pound of loaf sugar powdered, a quarter of a pound of almonds beat fine with rose-water, the yolks of two eggs, and two spoonfuls of cream. Make them all into a paste, roll it into any shape, and bake on tins. Ice them with a mixture of fine sugar, rose-water, and the white of an egg, beat up together, and lay the icing on with a feather, before the jumbles are put into the oven. ALMOND PUDDINGS. Beat half a pound of sweet and a few bitter almonds with a spoonful of water; then mix four ounces of butter, four eggs, two spoonfuls of cream, warm with the butter, one of brandy, a little nutmeg and sugar to taste. Butter some cups, half fill them, and bake the puddings. Serve with butter, wine, and sugar.--For baked almond puddings, beat a quarter of a pound of sweet and a few bitter almonds with a little wine, the yolks of six eggs, the peel of two lemons grated, six ounces of butter, nearly a quart of cream, and the juice of one lemon. When well mixed, bake it half an hour, with paste round the dish, and serve it with pudding sauce. Small almond puddings are made of eight ounces of almonds, and a few bitter ones, pounded with a spoonful of water. Then mix four ounces of butter warmed, four yolks and two whites of eggs, sugar to taste, two spoonfuls of cream, and one of brandy. Mix it together well, and bake in little cups buttered. ALMONDS BURNT. Add three quarters of a pound of loaf sugar to a pound of almonds, picked and cleaned, and a few spoonfuls of water. Set them on the fire, keep them stirring till the sugar is candied, and they are done. ALMONDS ICED. Make an iceing similar to that for twelfth-night cakes, with fine sifted loaf sugar, orange-flower water, and whisked white of eggs. Having blanched the almonds, roll them well in this iceing, and dry them in a cool oven. AMBER PUDDING. Put a pound of butter into a saucepan, with three quarters of a pound of loaf sugar finely powdered. Melt the butter, and mix well with it; then add the yolks of fifteen eggs well beaten, and as much fresh candied orange as will add colour and flavour to it, being first beaten to a fine paste. Line the dish with paste for turning out; and when filled with the above, lay a crust over as you would a pie, and bake it in a slow oven. This makes a fine pudding as good cold as hot. AMERICAN CAKES, though but little known in this country, form an article of some importance in domestic economy: they are cheap, easily made, and very nutritious. Mix a quarter of a pound of butter with a pound of flour; then, having dissolved and well stirred a quarter of a pound of sugar in half a pint of milk, and made a solution of about half a tea-spoonful of crystal of soda, salt of tartar, or any other purified potash, in half a tea-cupful of cold water, pour them also among the flour; work up the paste to a good consistence, roll it out, and form it into cakes or biscuits. The lightness of these cakes depending much on the expedition with which they are baked, they should be set in a brisk oven. AMERICAN SPRUCE. In the spring of the year, this valuable extract is obtained from the young shoots and tops of the pine or fir trees; and in autumn, from their cones. These are merely boiled in water, to the consistence of honey or molasses. The bark and softer part of the tops and young shoots, being easily dissolved, make the finest essence; while the cones and bark of larger branches, undergoing only a partial solution, form an inferior article, after being strained from the dregs. Both sorts, when decanted clear off, are put up in casks or bottles, and preserved for making spruce beer. ANCHOVIES. These delicate fish are preserved in barrels with bay salt, and no other of the finny tribe has so fine a flavour. Choose those which look red and mellow, and the bones moist and oily. They should be high-flavoured, and have a fine smell; but beware of their being mixed with red paint, to improve their colour and appearance. When the liquor dries, pour on them some beef brine, and keep the jar close tied down with paper and leather. Sprats are sometimes sold for anchovies, but by washing them the imposition may be detected. See SPRATS. ANCHOVY ESSENCE. Chop two dozen of anchovies, without the bone, add some of their own liquor strained, and sixteen large spoonfuls of water. Boil them gently till dissolved, which will be in a few minutes; and when cold, strain and bottle the liquor. The essence can generally be bought cheaper than you can make it. ANCHOVY PASTE. Pound them in a mortar, rub the pulp through a fine sieve, pot it, cover it with clarified butter, and keep it in a cool place. The paste may also be made by rubbing the essence with as much flour as will make a paste; but this is only intended for immediate use, and will not keep. This is sometimes made stiffer and hotter, by the addition of a little flour of mustard, a pickled walnut, spice, or cayenne. ANCHOVY POWDER. Pound the fish in a mortar, rub them through a sieve, make them into a paste with dried flour, roll it into thin cakes, and dry them in a Dutch oven before a slow fire. To this may be added a small portion of cayenne, grated lemon peel, and citric acid. Pounded to a fine powder, and put into a well-stopped bottle, it will keep for years. It is a very savoury relish, sprinkled on bread and butter for a sandwich. ANCHOVY SAUCE. Chop one or two anchovies without washing, put them into a saucepan with flour and butter, and a spoonful of water. Stir it over the fire till it boils once or twice. When the anchovies are good, they will soon be dissolved, and distinguished both by their colour and fragrance. ANCHOVY TOAST. Bone and skin six or eight anchovies, pound them to a mass with an ounce of fine butter till the colour is equal, and then spread it on toast or rusks. Or, cut thin slices of bread, and fry them in clarified butter. Wash three anchovies split, pound them in a mortar with a little fresh butter, rub them through a hair sieve, and spread on the toast when cold. Garnish with parsley or pickles. ANGELICA TARTS. Take an equal quantity of apples and angelica, pare and peel them, and cut them separately into small pieces. Boil the apples gently in a little water, with fine sugar and lemon peel, till they become a thin syrup: then boil the angelica about ten minutes. Put some paste at the bottom of the pattipans, with alternate layers of apples and angelica: pour in some of the syrup, put on the lid, and bake them carefully. ANGLING APPARATUS. Fishing rods should be oiled and dried in the sun, to prevent their being worm eaten, and render them tough; and if the joints get swelled and set fast, turn the part over the flame of a candle, and it will soon be set at liberty. Silk or hemp lines dyed in a decoction of oak bark, will render them more durable and capable of resisting the wet; and after they have been used they should be well dried before they are wound up, or they will be liable to rot. To make a cork float, take a good new cork, and pass a small red-hot iron through the centre of it lengthways; then round one end of it with a sharp knife, and reduce the other to a point, resembling a small peg top. The quill which is to pass through it may be secured at the bottom by putting in a little cotton wool and sealing wax, and the upper end is to be fitted with a piece of hazel like a plug, cemented like the other, with a piece of wire on the top formed into an eye, and two small hoops cut from another quill to regulate the line which passes through the float. To render it the more visible, the cork may be coloured with red wax. For fly fishing, either natural or artificial flies may be used, especially such as are found under hollow stones by the river's side, on the trunk of an oak or ash, on hawthorns, and on ant hills. In clear water the angler may use small flies with slender wings, but in muddy water a large fly is better: in a clear day the fly should be light coloured, and in dark water the fly should be dark. The rod and line require to be long; the fly when fastened to the hook should be allowed to float gently on the surface of the water, keeping the line from touching it, and the angler should stand as far as may be from the water's edge with the sun at his back, having a watchful eye and a quick hand. Fish may be intoxicated and taken in the following manner. Take an equal quantity of cocculus indicus, coriander, fenugreek, and cummin seeds, and reduce them to a powder. Make it into a paste with rice flour and water, roll it up into pills as large as peas, and throw them into ponds or rivers which abound with fish. After eating the paste, the fish will rise to the surface of the water almost motionless, and may be taken out by the hand. ANTIDOTE to opium or laudanum. The deleterious effects of opium, which are so often experienced in the form of laudanum, may in great measure be counteracted by taking a proper quantity of lemon juice immediately afterwards. Four grains of opium, or a hundred drops of laudanum, are often sufficient for a fatal dose; but if an ounce of pure lemon juice, or twice that quantity of good vinegar be added to every grain of opium, or every twenty-five drops of laudanum, it will relieve both the head and the bowels; and the use of vegetable acids cannot be too strongly recommended to those who are under the necessity of taking considerable doses of opiates. ANTS. Though it does not become us to be prodigal of life in any form, nor wantonly to seek its extinction, yet where any species of animals are found to be really noxious or annoying, the good of man requires that they should be destroyed. Houses are sometimes so infested with ants, that they are not to be endured. In this case, sprinkle the places they frequent with a strong decoction of walnut-tree leaves; or take half a pound of sulphur, and a quarter of a pound of potash, and dissolve them together over the fire. Afterwards beat them to a powder, add some water to it; and when sprinkled, the ants will either die or leave the place. When they are found to traverse garden walls or hot-houses, and to injure the fruit, several holes should be drilled in the ground with an iron crow, close to the side of the wall, and as deep as the soil will admit. The earth being stirred, the insects will begin to move about: the sides of the holes are then to be made smooth, so that the ants may fall in as soon as they approach, and they will be unable to climb upwards. Water being then poured on them, great numbers may easily be destroyed. The same end may be answered by strewing a mixture of quick lime and soot along such places as are much frequented by the ants; or by adding water to it, and pouring it at the roots of trees infested by them. To prevent their descending from a tree which they visit, it is only necessary to mark with a piece of common chalk a circle round its trunk, an inch or two broad, and about two feet from the ground. This experiment should be performed in dry weather, and the ring must be renewed: as soon as the ants arrive at it, not one of them will attempt to cross over.--Ant hills are very injurious in dry pastures, not only by wasting the soil, but yielding a pernicious kind of grass, and impeding the operation of the scythe. The turf of the ant hill should be pared off, the core taken out and scattered at a distance; and when the turf is laid down again, the place should be left lower than the ground around it, that when the wet settles into it, the ants may be prevented from returning to their haunt. The nests may more effectually be destroyed by putting quick lime into them, and pouring on some water; or by putting in some night soil, and closing it up. APPLE TREES may be preserved from the innumerable insects with which they are annoyed, by painting the stems and branches with a thick wash of lime and water, as soon as the sap begins to rise. This will be found, in the course of the ensuing summer to have removed all the moss and insects, and given to the bark a fresh and green appearance. Other fruit trees may be treated in the same manner, and they will soon become more healthy and vigorous. Trees exposed to cattle, hares and rabbits, may be preserved from these depredators, without the expense of fence or rails, by any of the following experiments. Wash the stems of the trees or plants to a proper height with tanner's liquor, or such as they use for dressing hides. If this does not succeed, make a mixture of night soil, lime and water, and brush it on the stems and branches, two or three times in a year: this will effectually preserve the trees from being barked. A mixture of fresh cow dung and urine has been found to answer the same purpose, and also to destroy the canker, which is so fatal to the growth of trees. APPLES are best preserved from frost, by throwing over them a linen cloth before the approach of hard weather: woollen will not answer the purpose. In this manner they are kept in Germany and in America, during the severest winters; and it is probable that potatoes might be preserved in the same way. Apples may also be kept till the following summer by putting them into a dry jar, with a few pebbles at the bottom to imbibe the moisture which would otherwise destroy the fruit, and then closing up the jar carefully with a lid, and a little fresh water round the edge. APPLES DRIED. Put them in a cool oven six or seven times; and when soft enough to bear it, let them be gently flattened by degrees. If the oven be too warm they will waste; and at first it should be very cool. The biffin, the minshul crab, or any tart apples, are the best for drying. APPLE DUMPLINGS. Pare and slice some apples, line a bason with a thin paste, fill it with the fruit, and close the paste over. Tie a cloth tight over, and boil the dumpling till the fruit is done. Currant and damson puddings are prepared in the same way. APPLE FOOL. Stew some apples in a stone jar on a stove, or in a saucepan of water over the fire: if the former, a large spoonful of water should be added to the fruit. When reduced to a pulp, peel and press them through a cullendar; boil a sufficient quantity of new milk, and a tea-cupful of raw cream, or an egg instead of the latter, and leave the liquor to cool. Then mix it gradually with the pulp, and sweeten the whole with fine moist sugar. APPLE FRITTERS. Pare some apples, and cut them into thin slices; put a spoonful of light batter into a frying-pan, then a layer of apples, and another spoonful of batter. Fry them to a light brown, and serve with grated sugar over them. APPLE JELLY. Prepare twenty golden pippins, boil them quite tender in a pint and a half of spring water, and strain the pulp through a cullendar. To every pint add a pound of fine sugar, with grated orange or lemon peel, and then boil the whole to a jelly. Or, having prepared the apples by boiling and straining them through a coarse sieve, get ready an ounce of isinglass boiled to a jelly in half a pint of water, and mix it with the apple pulp. Add some sugar, a little lemon juice and peel; boil all together, take out the peel, and put the jelly into a dish, to serve at table.--When apple jelly is required for preserving apricots, or any sort of sweetmeats, a different process is observed. Apples are to be pared, quartered and cored, and put into a stewpan, with as much water as will cover them. Boil them to a mash as quick as possible, and add a quantity of water; then boil half an hour more, and run it through a jelly bag. If in summer, codlins are best: in autumn, golden rennets or winter pippins.--Red apples in jelly are a different preparation. These must be pared and cored, and thrown into water; then put them in a preserving pan, and let them coddle with as little water as will only half cover them. Observe that they do not lie too close when first put in; and when the under side is done, turn them. Mix some pounded cochineal with the water, and boil with the fruit. When sufficiently done, take them out on the dish they are to be served in, the stalk downwards. Make a rich jelly of the water with loaf sugar, boiling them with the thin rind and juice of a lemon. When cold, spread the jelly over the apples; cut the lemon peel into narrow strips, and put them across the eye of the apple. The colour should be kept fine from the first, or the fruit will not afterwards gain it; and use as little of the cochineal as will serve, lest the syrup taste bitter. APPLE MARMALADE. Scald some apples till they come to a pulp; then take an equal weight of sugar in large lumps, just dip them in water, and boil the sugar till it can be well skimmed, and is reduced to a thick syrup. Put it to the pulp, and simmer it on a quick fire a quarter of an hour. Grate a little lemon peel before boiling, but if too much it will be bitter. APPLE PASTY. Make a hot crust of lard or dripping, roll it out warm, cover it with apples pared and sliced, and a little lemon peel and moist sugar. Wet the edges of the crust, close it up well, make a few holes in the top, and bake it in a moderate oven. Gooseberries may be done in the same way. APPLE PIE. Pare and core the fruit, after being wiped clean; then boil the cores and parings in a little water, till it tastes well. Strain the liquor, add a little sugar, with a bit of bruised cinnamon, and simmer again. Meantime place the apples in a dish, a paste being put round the edge; when one layer is in, sprinkle half the sugar, and shred lemon peel; squeeze in some of the juice, or a glass of cider, if the apples have lost their spirit. Put in the rest of the apples, the sugar, and the liquor which has been boiled. If the pie be eaten hot, put some butter into it, quince marmalade, orange paste or cloves, to give it a flavour. APPLE POSTILLA. Bake codlins, or any other sour apples, but without burning them; pulp them through a sieve into a bowl, and beat them for four hours. Sweeten the fruit with honey, and beat it four hours more; the longer it is beaten the better. Pour a thin layer of the mixture on a cloth spread over a tray, and bake it in a slow oven, with bits of wood placed under the tray. If not baked enough on one side, set it again in the oven; and when quite done, turn it. Pour on it a fresh layer of the mixture, and proceed with it in like manner, till the whole is properly baked. Apple postilla is also made by peeling the apples and taking out the cores after they are baked, sweetening with sugar, and beating it up with a wooden spoon till it is all of a froth. Then put it on two trays, and bake it for two hours in an oven moderately hot. After this another layer of the beaten apples is added, and pounded loaf sugar spread over. Sometimes a still finer sort is made, by beating yolks of eggs to a froth, and then mixing it with the apple juice. APPLE PUDDING. Butter a baking dish, put in the batter, and the apples whole, without being cut or pared, and bake in a quick oven. If the apples be pared, they will mix with the batter while in the oven, and make the pudding soft. Serve it up with sugar and butter. For a superior pudding, grate a pound of pared apples, work it up with six ounces of butter, four eggs, grated lemon peel, a little sugar and brandy. Line the dish with good paste, strew over it bits of candied peel, put in the pudding, and bake it half an hour. A little lemon juice may be added, a spoonful of bread crumbs, or two or three Naples biscuits. Another way is, to pare and quarter four large apples, boil them tender, with the rind of a lemon, in so little water that it may be exhausted in the boiling. Beat the apples fine in a mortar, add the crumb of a small roll, four ounces of melted butter, the yolks of five and the whites of three eggs, the juice of half a lemon, and sugar to taste. Beat all together, and lay it in a dish with paste to turn out, after baking. APPLE PUFFS. Pare the fruit, and either stew them in a stone jar on a hot hearth, or bake them. When cold, mix the pulp of the apple with sugar and lemon peel shred fine, taking as little as possible of the apple juice. Bake them in thin paste, in a quick oven: if small, a quarter of an hour will be sufficient. Orange or quince marmalade is a great improvement; cinnamon pounded, or orange flower-water, will make an agreeable change. APPLE SAUCE. Pare, core, and slice some apples; put them in a stone jar, into a saucepan of water, or on a hot hearth. If the latter, put in a spoonful or two of water, to prevent burning. When done, mash them up, put in a piece of butter the size of a nutmeg, and a little brown sugar. Serve it in a sauce tureen, for goose and roast pork. APPLE TRIFLE. Scald some apples, pass them through a sieve, and make a layer of the pulp at the bottom of a dish; mix the rind of half a lemon grated, and sweeten with sugar. Or mix half a pint of milk, half a pint of cream, and the yolk of an egg. Scald it over the fire, and stir it all the time without boiling; lay it over the apple pulp with a spoon, and put on it a whip prepared the day before. APPLE WATER. Cut two large apples in slices, and pour a quart of boiling water on them, or on roasted apples. Strain it well, and sweeten it lightly. When cold, it is an agreeable drink in a fever. APPLE WINE. To every gallon of apple juice, immediately as it comes from the press, add two pounds of lump sugar; boil it as long as any scum rises, then strain it through a sieve, and let it cool. Add some yeast, and stir it well; let it work in the tub for two or three weeks, or till the head begins to flatten; then skim off the head, draw off the liquor clear, and tun it. When made a year, rack it off, and fine it with isinglass. To every eight gallons add half a pint of the best rectified spirits of wine, or a pint of brandy. APRICOTS DRIED. Pare thin and halve four pounds of apricots, put them in a dish, and strew among them three pounds of fine loaf-sugar powdered. When the sugar melts, set the fruit over a stove to do very gently; as each piece becomes tender, take it out, and put it into a china bowl. When all are done, and the boiling heat a little abated, pour the syrup over them. In a day or two remove the syrup, leaving only a little in each half. In a day or two more turn them, and so continue daily till quite dry, in the sun or in a warm place. Keep the apricots in boxes, with layers of fine paper. APRICOTS PRESERVED. There are various ways of doing this: one is by steeping them in brandy. Wipe, weigh, and pick the fruit, and have ready a quarter of the weight of loaf sugar in fine powder. Put the fruit into an ice-pot that shuts very close, throw the sugar over it, and then cover the fruit with brandy. Between the top and cover of the pot, fit in a piece of thick writing paper. Set the pot into a saucepan of water, and heat it without boiling, till the brandy be as hot as you can bear your finger in it. Put the fruit into a jar, and pour the brandy on it. When cold, put a bladder over, and tie it down tight.--Apricots may also be preserved in jelly. Pare the fruit very thin, and stone it; weigh an equal quantity of sugar in fine powder, and strew over it. Next day boil very gently till they are clear, remove them into a bowl, and pour in the liquor. The following day, mix it with a quart of codlin liquor, made by boiling and straining, and a pound of fine sugar. Let it boil quickly till it comes to a jelly; put the fruit into it, give it one boil, skim it well, and distribute into small pots.--A beautiful preserve may also be made in the following manner. Having selected the finest ripe apricots, pare them as thin as possible, and weigh them. Lay them in halves on dishes, with the hollow part upwards. Prepare an equal weight of loaf sugar finely pounded, and strew it over them; in the mean time break the stones, and blanch the kernels. When the fruit has lain twelve hours, put it into a preserving pan, with the sugar and juice, and also the kernels. Let it simmer very gently till it becomes clear; then take out the pieces of apricot singly as they are done, put them into small pots, and pour the syrup and kernels over them. The scum must be taken off as it rises, and the pots covered with brandy paper.--Green apricots are preserved in a different way. Lay vine or apricot leaves at the bottom of the pan, then fruit and leaves alternately till full, the upper layer being thick with leaves. Then fill the pan with spring water, and cover it down, that no steam may escape. Set the pan at a distance from the fire, that in four or five hours the fruit may be soft, but not cracked. Make a thin syrup of some of the water, and drain the fruit. When both are cold, put the fruit into the pan, and the syrup to it; keep the pan at a proper distance from the fire till the apricots green, but on no account boil or crack them. Remove the fruit very carefully into a pan with the syrup for two or three days, then pour off as much of it as will be necessary, boil with more sugar to make a rich syrup, and add a little sliced ginger to it. When cold, and the thin syrup has all been drained from the fruit, pour the thick over it. The former will serve to sweeten pies. APRICOT CHEESE. Weigh an equal quantity of pared fruit and sugar, wet the latter a very little, and let it boil quickly, or the colour will be spoiled. Blanch the kernels and add them to it: twenty or thirty minutes will boil it. Put it in small pots or cups half filled. APRICOT JAM. When the fruit is nearly ripe, pare and cut some in halves; break the stones, blanch the kernels, and put them to the fruit. Boil the parings in a little water, and strain it: to a pound of fruit add three quarters of a pound of fine sifted sugar, and a glass of the water in which the parings were boiled. Stir it over a brisk fire till it becomes rather stiff: when cold, put apple jelly over the jam, and tie it down with brandy paper. APRICOT PUDDING. Halve twelve large apricots, and scald them till they are soft. Meanwhile pour on the grated crumbs of a penny loaf a pint of boiling cream; when half cold, add four ounces of sugar, the yolks of four beaten eggs, and a glass of white wine. Pound the apricots in a mortar, with some or all of the kernels; then mix the fruit and other ingredients together, put a paste round a dish, and bake the pudding in half an hour. AROMATIC VINEGAR. Mix with common vinegar a quantity of powdered chalk or whiting, sufficient to destroy the acidity; and when the white sediment is formed, pour off the insipid liquor. The powder is then to be dried, and some oil of vitriol poured upon it, as long as white acid fumes continue to ascend. This substance forms the essential ingredient, the fumes of which are particularly useful in purifying rooms and places where any contagion is suspected. ARROW ROOT. This valuable article has often been counterfeited: the American is the best, and may generally be known by its colour and solidity. If genuine, the arrow root is very nourishing, especially for weak bowels. Put into a saucepan half a pint of water, a glass of sherry, or a spoonful of brandy, grated nutmeg, and fine sugar. Boil it up once, then mix it by degrees into a dessert-spoonful of arrow root, previously rubbed smooth with two spoonfuls of cold water. Return the whole into the saucepan, stir and boil it three minutes. ARSENIC. The fatal effects of mineral poisons are too often experienced, and for want of timely assistance but seldom counteracted. Arsenic and other baleful ingredients, if used for the destruction of vermin, should never be kept with common articles, or laid in the way of children. But if, unfortunately, this deadly poison should by some mistake be taken inwardly, the most effectual remedy will be a table-spoonful of powdered charcoal, mixed with honey, butter, or treacle, and swallowed immediately. Two hours afterwards, take an emetic or an opening draught, to cleanse away the whole from the stomach and bowels. The baneful effects of verdigris, from the use of copper boilers and saucepans, may be counteracted by the same means, if resorted to in time, and no remedy is so likely to become effectual. ARTICHOKES. Soak them in cold water, wash them well, and boil them gently in plenty of water. If young, they will be ready in half an hour; if otherwise, they will not be done in twice that time. The surest way to know when they are boiled enough is to draw out a leaf, and see whether they be tender; but they cannot be properly boiled without much water, which tends also to preserve their colour. Trim and drain them on a sieve, serve with melted butter, pepper and salt, and small cups. ARTICHOKE BOTTOMS, if dried, must be well soaked, and stewed in weak gravy. Or they may be boiled in milk, and served with cream sauce, or added to ragouts, French pies, &c. If intended to keep in the winter, the bottoms must be slowly dried, and put into paper bags. ASPARAGUS. Having carefully scraped the stalks till they appear white, and thrown them into cold water, tie them up in small bundles with tape, and cut the stalks of an equal length. Put them into a stewpan of boiling water a little salted, and take them up as soon as they begin to be tender, or they will lose both their taste and colour. Meanwhile make toasts well browned for the bottom of the dish, moisten them in the asparagus liquor, place them regularly, and pour on some melted butter. Then lay the asparagus on the toasts round the dish, with the heads united at the centre, but pour no butter over them. Serve with melted butter in a sauce tureen, and separate cups, that the company may season with salt and pepper to their taste.--As this vegetable is one of the greatest delicacies which the garden affords, no person should be unacquainted with the means of producing it in constant succession. Toward the end of July, the stalks of the asparagus are to be cut down, and the beds forked up and raked smooth. If the weather be dry, they should be watered with the drain of a dunghill, and left rather hollow in the middle to retain the moisture. In about a fortnight the stalks will begin to appear, and the watering should be continued once a week if the weather be dry. Asparagus may thus be cut till near the end of September, and then by making five or six hot-beds during the winter, a regular succession may be provided for almost every month in the year. To obviate the objection of cutting the same beds twice a year, two or three others may be left uncut in the spring, and additional beds made for the purpose. The seed is cheap, and in most places the dung may be easily procured. There is no need to continue the old beds when they begin to fail; it is better to make new ones, and to force the old roots by applying some rotten dung on the tops of the beds, and to sow seed every year for new plants. ASSES' MILK, so beneficial in consumptive cases, should be milked into a glass that is kept warm, by being placed in a bason of hot water. The fixed air that it contains sometimes occasions pain in the stomach; at first therefore a tea-spoonful of rum may be taken with it, but should only be put in the moment it is to be swallowed. The genuine milk far surpasses any imitation of it that can be made; but a substitute may be found in the following composition. Boil a quart of water with a quart of new milk, an ounce of white sugar-candy, half an ounce of eringo-root, and half an ounce of conserve of roses, till the quantity be half wasted. As this is an astringent, the doses must be proportioned accordingly, and the mixture is wholesome only while it remains sweet.--Another way. Mix two spoonfuls of boiling water, two of milk, and an egg well beaten. Sweeten with white sugar-candy pounded: this may be taken twice or thrice a day. Or, boil two ounces of hartshorn-shavings, two ounces of pearl barley, two ounces of candied eringo-root, and one dozen of snails that have been bruised, in two quarts of water till reduced to one. Mix with an equal quantity of new milk, when taken, twice a day. ASTHMA. As this complaint generally attacks aged people, the best mode of relief will be to attend carefully to diet and exercise, which should be light and easy, and to avoid as much as possible an exposure to cold and frosty air. The temperature of the apartment should be equalised to moderate summer's heat by flues and stoves, and frequently ventilated. A dish of the best coffee, newly ground and made very strong, and taken frequently without milk or sugar, has been found highly beneficial. An excellent diet drink may be made of toast and water, with the addition of a little vinegar, or a few grains of nitre. Tar water is strongly recommended, and also the smoking of the dried leaves of stramonium, commonly called the thorn-apple. ASTRINGENT BOLUS, proper to be taken in female complaints, arising from excessive evacuations. Fifteen grains of powdered alum, and five grains of gum kino, made into a bolus with a little syrup, and given every four or five hours till the discharge abates. ASTRINGENT MIXTURE, in case of dysentery, may be made of three ounces of cinnamon water, mixed with as much common water, an ounce and a half of spirituous cinnamon-water, and half an ounce of japonic confection. A spoonful or two of this mixture may be taken every four hours, after the necessary evacuations have been allowed, and where the dysentery has not been of long standing, interposing every second or third day a dose of rhubarb. B. BACON, though intended to be a cheap article of housekeeping, is often, through mismanagement, rendered one of the most expensive. Generally twice as much is dressed as need be, and of course there is a deal of waste. When sent to table as an accompaniment to boiled poultry or veal, a pound and a half is plenty for a dozen people. Bacon will boil better, and swell more freely, if the rind is taken off before it is dressed; and when excessively salt, it should be soaked an hour or two in warm water. If the bacon be dried, pare off the rusty and smoked part, trim it neatly on the under side, and scrape the rind as clean as possible. Or take it up when sufficiently boiled, scrape the under side, and cut off the rind: grate a crust of bread over it, and place it a few minutes before the fire to brown. Two pounds will require to be boiled gently about an hour and a half, according to its thickness: the hock or gammon being very thick, will take more. See DRIED BACON. BAKING. This mode of preparing a dinner is undoubtedly one of the cheapest and most convenient, especially for a small family; and the oven is almost the only kitchen which the poor man possesses. Much however depends on the care and ability of the baker: in the country especially, where the baking of dinners is not always considered as a regular article of business, it is rather a hazardous experiment to send a valuable joint to the oven; and more is often wasted and spoiled by the heedless conduct of the parish cook, than would have paid for the boiling or roasting at home. But supposing the oven to be managed with care and judgment, there are many joints which may be baked to great advantage, and will be found but little inferior to roasting. Particularly, legs and loins of pork, legs of mutton, fillets of veal, and other joints, if the meat be fat and good, will be eaten with great satisfaction, when they come from the oven. A sucking pig is also well adapted to the purpose, and is equal to a roasted one, if properly managed. When sent to the baker, it should have its ears and tail covered with buttered paper fastened on, and a bit of butter tied up in a piece of linen to baste the back with, otherwise it will be apt to blister. A goose should be prepared the same as for roasting, placing it on a stand, and taking care to turn it when it is half done. A duck the same. If a buttock of beef is to be baked, it should be well washed, after it has been in salt about a week, and put into a brown earthen pan with a pint of water. Cover the pan tight over with two or three thicknesses of writing paper, and give it four or five hours in a moderate oven. Brown paper should never be used with baked dishes; the pitch and tar which it contains will give the meat a smoky bad taste. Previously to baking a ham, soak it in water an hour, take it out and wipe it, and make a crust sufficient to cover it all over; and if done in a moderate oven, it will cut fuller of gravy, and be of a finer flavour, than a boiled one. Small cod-fish, haddock, and mackarel will bake well, with a dust of flour and some bits of butter put on them. Large eels should be stuffed. Herrings and sprats are to be baked in a brown pan, with vinegar and a little spice, and tied over with paper. These and various other articles may be baked so as to give full satisfaction, if the oven be under judicious management. BAKED CARP. Clean a large carp, put in a Portuguese stuffing, and sow it up. Brush it all over with the yolk of an egg, throw on plenty of crumbs, and drop on oiled butter to baste with. Place the carp in a deep earthen dish, with a pint of stock, a few sliced onions, some bay leaves, a bunch of herbs, such as basil, thyme, parsley, and both sorts of marjoram; half a pint of port wine, and six anchovies. Cover over the pan, and bake it an hour. Let it be done before it is wanted. Pour the liquor from it, and keep the fish hot while you heat up the liquor with a good piece of butter rolled in flour, a tea-spoonful of mustard, a little cayenne, and a spoonful of soy. Serve it on the dish, garnished with lemon and parsley, and horse-radish, and put the gravy into the sauce tureen. BAKED CUSTARD. Boil a pint of cream and half a pint of milk with a little mace, cinnamon and lemon peel. When cold, mix the yolks of three eggs, and sweeten the custard. Make the cups or paste nearly full, and bake them ten minutes. BAKED HERRINGS. Wash and drain, without wiping them; and when drawn, they should not be opened. Season with allspice in fine powder, salt, and a few whole cloves. Lay them in a pan with plenty of black pepper, an onion, and a few bay leaves. Add half vinegar and half small beer, enough to cover them. Put paper over the pan, and bake in a slow oven. If it be wished to make them look red, throw a little saltpetre over them the night before. BAKED MILK. A very useful article may be made for weakly and consumptive persons in the following manner. Put a gallon of milk into a jar, tie white paper over it, and let it stand all night in the oven when baking is over. Next morning it will be as thick as cream, and may be drank two or three times a day. BAKED PEARS. Those least fit to eat raw, are often the best for baking. Do not pare them, but wipe and lay them on tin plates, and bake them in a slow oven. When done enough to bear it, flatten them with a silver spoon; and when done through, put them on a dish. They should be baked three or four times, and very gently. BAKED PIKE. Scale and open it as near the throat as possible, and then put in the following stuffing. Grated bread, herbs, anchovies, oysters, suet, salt, pepper, mace, half a pint of cream, four yolks of eggs; mix all over the fire till it thickens, and then sow it up in the fish. Little bits of butter should be scattered over it, before it is sent to the oven. Serve it with gravy sauce, butter and anchovy. In carving a pike, if the back and belly be slit up, and each slice drawn gently downwards, fewer bones will be given at table. BAKED SOUP. A cheap and plentiful dish for poor families, or to give away, may be made of a pound of any kind of meat cut in slices, with two onions, two carrots sliced, two ounces of rice, a pint of split peas, or whole ones if previously soaked, seasoned with pepper and salt. Put the whole into an earthen jug or pan, adding a gallon of water: cover it very close, and bake it. BALM WINE. Boil three pounds of lump sugar in a gallon of water; skim it clean, put in a handful of balm, and boil it ten minutes. Strain it off, cool it, put in some yeast, and let it stand two days. Add the rind and juice of a lemon, and let it stand in the cask six months. BALSAMIC VINEGAR. One of the best remedies for wounds or bruises is the balsamic or anti-putrid vinegar, which is made in the following manner. Take a handful of sage leaves and flowers, the same of lavender, hyssop, thyme, and savory; two heads of garlic, and a handful of salt. These are to be infused in some of the best white-wine vinegar; and after standing a fortnight or three weeks, it will be fit for use. BANBURY CAKES. Work a pound of butter into a pound of white-bread dough, the same as for puff paste; roll it out very thin, and cut it into bits of an even form, the size intended for the cakes. Moisten some powder sugar with a little brandy, mix in some clean currants, put a little of it on each bit of paste, close them up, and bake them on a tin. When they are taken out, sift some fine sugar over them. BARBERRIES, when preserved for tarts, must be picked clean from the stalks, choosing such as are free from stones. To every pound of fruit, weigh three quarters of a pound of lump sugar; put the fruit into a stone jar, and either set it on a hot hearth, or in a saucepan of water, and let them simmer very slowly till soft. Then put them and the sugar into a preserving-pan, and boil them gently fifteen minutes.--To preserve barberries in bunches, prepare some fleaks of white wool, three inches long, and a quarter of an inch wide. Tie the stalks of the fruit on the stick, from within an inch of one end to beyond the other, so as to make them look handsome. Simmer them in some syrup two successive days, covering them each time with it when cold. When they look clear, they are simmered enough. The third day, they should be treated like other candied fruit. See CANDIED. BARBERRY DROPS. Cut off the black tops, and roast the fruit before the fire, till it is soft enough to pulp with a silver spoon through a sieve into a china bason. Then set the bason in a saucepan of water, the top of which will just fit it, or on a hot hearth, and stir it till it grows thick. When cold, put to every pint a pound and a half of double refined sugar, pounded and sifted through a lawn sieve, which must be covered with a fine linen, to prevent waste while sifting. Beat the sugar and juice together three hours and a half if a large quantity, but two and a half for less. Then drop it on sheets of white thick paper, the size of drops sold in the shops. Some fruit is not so sour, and then less sugar is necessary. To know when there is enough, mix till well incorporated, and then drop. If it run, there is not enough sugar; and if there be too much, it will be rough. A dry room will suffice to dry them. No metal must touch the juice but the point of a knife, just to take the drop off the end of the wooden spoon, and then as little as possible. BARLEY BROTH. Wash three quarters of a pound of Scotch barley in a little cold water, put it in a soup pot with a shin or leg of beef, or a knuckle of veal of about ten pounds weight, sawn into four pieces. Cover it with cold water, and set it on the fire; when it boils skim it very clean, and put in two onions. Set it by the side of the fire to simmer very gently about two hours; then skim off all the fat, put in two heads of celery, and a large turnip cut into small squares. Season it with salt, let it boil an hour and a half longer, and it is done. Take out the meat carefully with a slice, cover it up and keep it warm by the fire, and skim the broth well before it is put into the tureen. This dish is much admired in Scotland, where it is regarded, not only as highly nutricious, but as a necessary article of domestic economy: for besides the excellent soup thus obtained, the meat also becomes an agreeable dish, served up with sauce in the following manner. Reserve a quart of the soup, put about an ounce of flour into a stewpan, pour the liquor to it by degrees, stirring it well together till it boils. Add a glass of port wine or mushroom ketchup, and let it gently boil up; strain the sauce through a sieve over the meat, and add to it some capers, minced gherkins, or walnuts. The flavour may be varied or improved, by the addition of a little curry powder, ragout, or any other store sauces. BARLEY GRUEL. Wash four ounces of pearl barley, boil it in two quarts of water and a stick of cinnamon, till reduced to a quart. Strain and return it into the saucepan with some sugar, and three quarters of a pint of port wine. It may be warmed up, and used as wanted. BARLEY SUGAR. This well known article of confectionary is made in the following manner. Put some common or clarified syrup into a saucepan with a spout, such as for melting butter, if little is wanted to be made, and boil it till it comes to what is called carimel, carefully taking off whatever scum may arise; and having prepared a marble stone, either with butter or sweet oil, just sufficiently to prevent sticking, pour the syrup gently along the marble, in long sticks of whatever thickness may be desired. While hot, twist it at each end; and let it remain till cold, when it will be fit for immediate use. The rasped rind of lemon, boiled up in the syrup, gives a very agreeable flavour to barley sugar; and indeed the best is commonly so prepared. BARLEY WATER. Wash a handful of common barley, then simmer it gently in three pints of water, with a bit of lemon peel. Or boil an ounce of pearl barley a few minutes to cleanse it, and then put on it a quart of water. Simmer it an hour: when half done, put into it a piece of fresh lemon peel, and one bit of sugar. If likely to be thick, add a quarter of a pint of water, and a little lemon juice, if approved. This makes a very pleasant drink for a sick person; but the former is less apt to nauseate. BASIL VINEGAR. Sweet basil is in full perfection about the middle of August, when the fresh green leaves should be gathered, and put into a wide-mouthed bottle. Cover the leaves with vinegar, and let them steep for ten days. If it be wished to have the infusion very strong, strain out the liquor, put in some fresh leaves, and let them steep for ten days more. This is a very agreeable addition to sauces and soups, and to the mixture usually made for salads. BASILICON. Yellow basilicon is made of equal quantities of bees-wax, white rosin, and frankincense. Melt them together over a slow fire, add the same weight of fresh lard, and strain it off while it is warm. This ointment is used for cleansing and healing wounds and ulcers. BASKET SALT. This fine and delicate article is chiefly made from the salt springs in Cheshire, and differs from the common brine salt, usually called sea salt, not only in its whiteness and purity, but in the fineness of its grain. Some families entertain prejudices against basket salt, notwithstanding its superior delicacy, from an idea, which does not appear warranted, that pernicious articles are used in its preparation; it may therefore be proper to mention, that by dissolving common salt, again evaporating into dryness, and then reducing it to powder in a mortar, a salt nearly equal to basket salt may be obtained, fine and of a good colour, and well adapted to the use of the table. BATH BUNS. Rub half a pound of butter into a pound of fine flour, with five eggs, and three spoonfuls of thick yeast. Set it before the fire to rise; then add a quarter of a pound of powdered sugar, and an ounce of carraway seeds. Mix them well in, roll it out in little cakes, strew on carraway comfits, and bake on tins. BATTER PUDDING. Rub by degrees three spoonfuls of fine flour extremely smooth, into a pint of milk. Simmer till it thickens, stir it in two ounces of butter, set it to cool, and then add the yolks of three eggs. Flour a wet cloth, or butter a bason, and put the batter into it. Tie it tight, and plunge it into boiling water, the bottom upwards. Boil it an hour and a half, and serve with plain butter. If a little ginger, nutmeg, and lemon peel be added, serve with sweet sauce. BEAN BREAD. Blanch half a pound of almonds, and put them into water to preserve their colour. Cut the almonds edgeways, wipe them dry, and sprinkle over them half a pound of fine loaf sugar pounded and sifted. Beat up the white of an egg with two spoonfuls of orange-flower water, moisten the almonds with the froth, lay them lightly on wafer paper, and bake them on tins. BEAN PUDDING. Boil and blanch some old green-beans, beat them in a mortar, with very little pepper and salt, some cream, and the yolk of an egg. A little spinach-juice will give a finer colour, but it is as good without. Boil it an hour, in a bason that will just hold it; pour parsley and butter over, and serve it up with bacon. BEE HIVES. Common bee hives made of straw are generally preferred, because they are not likely to be overheated by the rays of the sun; they will also keep out the cold better than wood, and are cheaper than any other material. As cleanliness however is of great consequence in the culture of these delicate and industrious insects, the bottom or floor of the hive should be covered with gypsum or plaster of Paris, of which they are very fond; and the outside of their habitation should be overspread with a cement made of two-thirds of cow-dung, and one-third of ashes. This coating will exclude noxious insects, which would otherwise perforate and lodge in the straw; it will also secure the bees from cold and wet, while it exhales an odour which to them is very grateful. The inner part of the hive should be furnished with two thin pieces of oak, or peeled branches of lime tree, placed across each other at right angles, which will greatly facilitate the construction of the combs, and support them when filled with honey. A good bee-hive ought to be so planned as to be capable of enlargement or contraction, according to the number of the swarm; to admit of being opened without disturbing the bees, either for the purpose of cleaning it, of freeing it from noxious insects, or for the admission of a stock of provision for the winter. It should also admit of the produce being removed without injury to the bees, and be internally clean, smooth, and free from flaws. A hive of this description may easily be made of three or four open square boxes, fastened to each other with buttons or wooden pegs, and the joints closed with cement. The whole may be covered with a moveable roof, projecting over the boxes to carry off the rain, and kept firm on the top by a stone being laid upon it. If the swarm be not very numerous, two or three boxes will be sufficient. They should be made of wood an inch thick, that the bees and wax may be less affected by the changes of the atmosphere. This hive is so easily constructed, that it is only necessary to join four boards together in the simplest manner; and a little cement will cover all defects. Within the upper part of the boxes, two bars should be fixed across from one corner to another, to support the combs. At the lower end of each box in front, there must be an aperture, or door, about an inch and an half wide, and as high as is necessary for the bees to pass without obstruction. The lowest is to be left open as a passage for the bees, and the others are to be closed by a piece of wood fitted to the aperture. A hive thus constructed may be enlarged or diminished, according to the number of boxes; and a communication with the internal part can readily be effected by removing the cover. BEE HOUSE. An apiary or bee house should front the south, in a situation between the extremes of heat and cold. It should stand in a valley, that the bees may with greater ease descend loaded on their return to the hive; and near a dwelling-house, but at a distance from noise and offensive smells; surrounded with a low wall, and in the vicinity of shallow water. If there be no running stream at hand, they ought to be supplied with water in troughs or pans, with small stones laid at the bottom, that the bees may alight upon them and drink. They cannot produce either combs, honey, or food for their maggots, without water; but the neighbourhood of rivers or ponds with high banks ought to be avoided, or the bees will be blown into the water with high winds, and be drowned. Care should also be taken to place the hives in a neighbourhood which abounds with such plants as will supply the bees with food; such as the oak, the pine, the willow, fruit trees, furze, broom, mustard, clover, heath, and thyme, particularly borage, which produces an abundance of farina. The garden in which the bee house stands, should be well furnished with scented plants and flowers, and branchy shrubs, that it may be easy to hive the swarms which may settle on them. See BEES, HIVING, &c. BEEF. In every sort of provisions, the best of the kind goes the farthest; it cuts out with most advantage, and affords most nourishment. The best way to obtain a good article is to deal with shops of established credit. You may perhaps pay a little more than by purchasing of those who pretend to sell cheap, but you will be more than in proportion better served. To prevent imposition more effectually, however, it is necessary to form our own judgment of the quality and value of the articles to be purchased. If the flesh of ox-beef is young, it will show a fine smooth open grain, be of a good red, and feel tender. The fat should look white rather than yellow, for when that is of a deep colour, the meat is seldom good. Beef fed with oil cakes is generally so, and the flesh is loose and flabby. The grain of cow-beef is closer, and the fat whiter, than that of ox-beef; but the lean is not so bright a red. The grain of bull-beef is closer still, the fat hard and skinny, the lean of a deep red, and a stronger scent. Ox-beef is the reverse; it is also the richest and the largest; but in small families, and to some tastes, heifer-beef as better still, if finely fed. In old meat there is a horny streak in the ribs of beef: the harder that is, the older: and the flesh is not finely flavoured. BEEF BOUILLI. A term given to boiled beef, which, according to the French fashion, is simmered over a slow fire, for the purpose of extracting a rich soup, while at the same time the meat makes its appearance at table, in possession of a full portion of nutricious succulence. This requires nothing more than to stew the meat very slowly, instead of keeping the pot quickly boiling, and taking up the beef as soon as it is done enough. Meat cooked in this manner, affords much more nourishment than when dressed in the common way, and is easy of digestion in proportion to its tenderness. The leg or shin, or the middle of a brisket of beef, weighing seven or eight pounds, is best adapted for this purpose. Put it into a soup pot or deep stewpan with cold water enough to cover it, and a quart over. Set it on a quick fire to get the scum up, which remove as it rises; then put in two carrots, two turnips, two leeks, or two large onions, two heads of celery, two or three cloves, and a faggot of parsley and sweet herbs. Set the pot by the side of the fire to simmer very gently, till the meat is just tender enough to eat: this will require four or five hours. When the beef is done, take it up carefully with a slice, cover it up, and keep it warm by the fire. Thicken a pint and a half of the beef liquor with three table spoonfuls of flour, season it with pepper, a glass of port wine or mushroom ketchup, or both, and pour it over the beef. Strain the soup through a hair sieve into a clean stewpan, take off the fat, cut the vegetables into small squares, and add them to the soup, the flavour of which may be heightened, by adding a table-spoonful of ketchup. BEEF BROTH. If intended for sick persons, it is better to add other kinds of meat, which render it more nourishing and better flavoured. Take then two pounds of lean beef, one pound of scrag of veal, one pound of scrag of mutton, some sweet herbs, and ten pepper corns, and put the whole into a nice tin saucepan, with five quarts of water. Simmer it to three quarts, clear it from the fat when cold, and add an onion if approved. If there be still any fat remaining, lay a piece of clean blotting or writing paper on the broth when in the bason, and it will take up every particle of the fat. BEEF CAKES, chiefly intended for a side-dish of dressed meat. Pound some beef that is under done, with a little fat bacon or ham. Season with pepper, salt, a little shalot or garlick; mix them well, and make the whole into small cakes three inches long, and half as wide and thick. Fry them to a light brown, and serve them in good thick gravy. BEEF CECILS. Mince some beef with crumbs of bread, a quantity of onions, some anchovies, lemon peel, salt, nutmeg, chopped parsley, pepper, and a bit of warmed butter. Mix these over the fire a few minutes: when cool enough, make them into balls of the size and shape of a turkey's egg, with an egg. Sprinkle them with fine crumbs, fry them of a yellow brown, and serve with gravy, as for Beef Olives. BEEF COLLOPS. Cut thin slices of beef from the rump, or any other tender part, and divide them into pieces three inches long: beat them with the blade of a knife, and flour them. Fry the collops quick in butter two minutes; then lay them into a small stewpan, and cover them with a pint of gravy. Add a bit of butter rubbed in flour, pepper and salt, a little bit of shalot shred very fine, with half a walnut, four small pickled cucumbers, and a tea-spoonful of capers cut small. Be careful that the stew does not boil, and serve in a hot covered dish. BEEF FRICASSEE. Cut some thin slices of cold roast beef, shred a handful of parsley very small, cut an onion into quarters, and put them all together into a stewpan, with a piece of butter, and some strong broth. Season with salt and pepper, and simmer very gently for a quarter of an hour. Mix into it the yolks of two eggs, a glass of port wine, and a spoonful of vinegar: stir it quick, rub the dish with shalot, and turn the fricassee into it. BEEF GRAVY. Cover the bottom of a stewpan, clean and well-tinned, with a slice of good ham or lean bacon, four or five pounds of gravy beef cut in pieces, an onion, a carrot, two cloves, and a head of celery. Add a pint of broth or water, cover it close, and simmer it till the liquor is nearly all exhausted. Turn it about, and let it brown slightly and equally all over, but do not suffer it to burn or stick to the pan, for that would spoil the gravy. Then put in three quarts of boiling water; and when it boils up, skim it carefully, and wipe off with a clean cloth what sticks round the edge and inside of the stewpan, that the gravy may be delicately clean and clear. Let it stew gently by the side of the fire for about four hours, till reduced to two quarts of good gravy. Take care to skim it well, strain it through silk or muslin, and set it in a cold place. BEEF HAMS. Cut the leg of beef like a ham; and for fourteen pounds weight, mix a pound of salt, a pound of brown sugar, an ounce of saltpetre, and an ounce of bay salt. Put it into the meat, turn and baste it every day, and let it lie a month in the pickle. Then take it out, roll it in bran, and smoke it. Afterwards hang it in a dry place, and cut off pieces to boil, or broil it with poached eggs. BEEF HASH. Cut some thin slices of beef that is underdone, with some of the fat; put it into a small stewpan, with a little onion or shalot, a little water, pepper and salt. Add some of the gravy, a spoonful of vinegar, and of walnut ketchup: if shalot vinegar be used, there will be no need of the onion nor the raw shalot. The hash is only to be simmered till it is hot through, but not boiled: it is owing to the boiling of hashes and stews that they get hard. When the hash is well warmed up, pour it upon sippets of bread previously prepared, and laid in a warm dish. BEEF HEART. Wash it carefully, stuff it as a hare, and serve with rich gravy and currant-jelly sauce. Hash it with the same, and add a little port wine. BEEF OLIVES. Take some cold beef that has not been done enough, and cut slices half an inch thick, and four inches square. Lay on them a forcemeat of crumbs of bread, shalot, a little suet or fat, pepper and salt. Roll and fasten them with a small skewer, put them into a stewpan with some gravy made of the beef bones, or the gravy of the meat, and a spoonful or two of water, and stew them till tender. Beef olives may also be made of fresh meat. BEEF PALATES. Simmer them in water several hours, till they will peel. Then cut the palates into slices, or leave them whole, and stew them in a rich gravy till they become as tender as possible. Season with cayenne, salt and ketchup: if the gravy was drawn clear, add also some butter and flour. If the palates are to be dressed white, boil them in milk, and stew them in a fricassee sauce; adding cream, butter, flour, mushroom powder, and a little pounded mace. BEEF PASTY. Bone a small rump or part of a sirloin of beef, after hanging several days. Beat it well with a rolling pin; then rub ten pounds of meat with four ounces of sugar, and pour over it a glass of port, and the same of vinegar. Let it lie five days and nights; wash and wipe the meat very dry, and season it high with pepper and salt, nutmeg and Jamaica pepper. Lay it in a dish, and to ten pounds add nearly one pound of butter, spreading it over the meat. Put a crust round the edges, and cover with a thick one, or it will be overdone before the meat is soaked: it must be baked in a slow oven. Set the bones in a pan in the oven, with no more water than will cover them, and one glass of port, a little pepper and salt, in order to provide a little rich gravy to add to the pasty when drawn. It will be found that sugar gives more shortness and a better flavour to meat than salt, too great a quantity of which hardens; and sugar is quite as good a preservative. BEEF PATTIES. Shred some dressed beef under done, with a little fat; season with salt and pepper, and a little shalot or onion. Make a plain paste, roll it thin, and cut it in shape like an apple puff. Fill it with mince, pinch the edges, and fry them of a nice brown. The paste should be made with a small quantity of butter, egg and milk. BEEF PIE. Season some cuttings of beef with pepper and salt, put some puff paste round the inside of the dish, and lay in the meat. Add some small potatoes, if approved, fill up the dish with water, and cover it with the paste. BEEF PUDDING. Roll some fine steaks with fat between, and a very little shred onion. Lay a paste of suet in a bason, put in the rolled steaks, cover the bason with a paste, and pinch the edges to keep in the gravy. Cover with a cloth tied close, and let the pudding boil slowly a considerable time.--If for baking, make a batter of milk, two eggs and flour, or, which is much better, potatoes boiled, and mashed through a cullender. Lay a little of it at the bottom of the dish, then put in the steaks prepared as above, and very well seasoned. Pour the remainder of the batter over them, and bake it. BEEF SANDERS. Mince some beef small, with onion, pepper and salt, and add a little gravy. Put it into scallop shells or saucers, making them three parts full, and fill them up with potatoes, mashed with a little cream. Put a bit of butter on the top, and brown them in an oven, or before the fire, or with a salamander. Mutton may be made into sanders in the same way. BEEF SCALLOPS. Mince some beef fine, with onion, pepper and salt, and add a little gravy. Put the mince into scallop shells or saucers three parts full, and fill them up with potatoes, mashed with a little cream. Lay a bit of butter on the tops, and brown them in an oven, or before the fire. BEEF STEAKS. To have them fine, they should be cut from a rump that has hung a few days. Broil them over a very clear or charcoal fire; put into the dish a little minced shalot, a table-spoonful of ketchup. The steak should be turned often, that the gravy may not be drawn out on either side. This dish requires to be eaten so hot and fresh done, that it is not in perfection if served with any thing else. Pepper and salt should be added when taking it off the fire, and a bit of butter rubbed on at the moment of serving. If accompanied with oyster sauce, strain off the liquor from the oysters, and throw them into cold water to take off the grit, while you simmer the liquor with a bit of mace and lemon peel. Then put in the oysters, stew them a few minutes, add a little cream, and some butter rubbed in a bit of flour. Let them boil up once, and throw the sauce over the steaks at the moment of sending the dish to table. BEEF STEW. Cut into small pieces four or five pounds of beef, with some hard fat. Put these into a stewpan, with three pints of water, a little salt and pepper, a sprig of sweet herbs, and three cloves. Cover the pan very close, and let it stew four hours over a slow fire. Throw in some carrots and turnips, cut into square pieces; the white part of a leek, with two heads of celery chopped fine; a crust of bread, and two spoonfuls of vinegar. When done, put it into a deep dish, set it over hot water, and cover it close. Skim the gravy, and put in a few pickled mushrooms; thicken it with flour and butter, make it hot, and pour it over the beef. BEEF TEA. Cut a pound of fleshy beef into thin slices; simmer it with a quart of water twenty minutes, after it has once boiled, and been skimmed. Season it, if approved; but a little salt only is sufficient. BEEF VINGRETTE. Cut a slice of under-done boiled beef three inches thick, and a little fat. Stew it in half a pint of water, a glass of white wine, a bunch of sweet herbs, an onion, and a bay leaf. Season it with three cloves pounded, and pepper, till the liquor is nearly wasted away, turning it once. Serve it up cold. Strain off the gravy, and mix it with a little vinegar for sauce. BEER. During the present ruinous system of taxation, it is extremely difficult, though highly desirable, to procure a cheap and wholesome beverage, especially for the labouring part of the community, to whom it is as needful as their daily food. Beer that is brewed and drunk at home, is more pure and nutricious than what is generally purchased at an alehouse; and those who cannot afford a better article, may perhaps find it convenient to adopt the following method for obtaining some cheap drink for small families.--To half a bushel of malt, add four pounds of treacle, and three quarters of a pound of hops. This will make twenty-five gallons of wholesome beer, which will be fit for use in a fortnight; but it is not calculated for keeping, especially in warm weather. Beer brewed in this way will not cost one halfpenny a pint. An agreeable table beer may be made ready for drinking in three or four days, consisting of treacle and water, fermented with a little yeast. Boil six or seven gallons of water, pour it on the same quantity of cold water in a cask, and a gallon of treacle. Stir them well together; and when the fermentation is abated, close the bung-hole in the usual way. A little of the outer rind of an orange peel infused into the beer, and taken out as soon as it has imparted a sufficient degree of bitterness, will give it an agreeable flavour, and assist in keeping the beer from turning sour. A little gentian root boiled in the water, either with or without the orange peel, will give a wholesome and pleasant bitter to this beer. A small quantity, by way of experiment, may be made thus. To eight quarts of boiling water, put one ounce of treacle, a quarter of an ounce of ginger, and two bay leaves. Let the whole boil a quarter of an hour; then cool and work it with yeast, the same as other beer. Another way to make a cheap malt liquor is to take a bushel of malt, with as much water and hops as if two bushels of malt were allowed in the common way, and put seven pounds of the coarsest brown sugar into the boiling wort. This makes a very pleasant liquor; is as strong, and will keep as long without turning sour or flat, as if two bushels had been employed. Twenty gallons of good beer may be made from a bushel of malt, and three quarters of a pound of hops, if care be taken to extract all their goodness. For this purpose boil twenty-four gallons of water, and steep the malt in it for three hours: then tie up the hops in a hair cloth, and boil malt, hops, and wort, all together for three quarters of an hour, which will reduce it to about twenty gallons. Strain it off, and set it to work when lukewarm. See BREWING.--As however it does not suit some persons to brew, in any way whatever, it may be necessary to add a few brief remarks on the distinguishing qualities of sound beer, that persons may know what it is they purchase, and how far their health may be affected by it. Wholesome beer then ought to be of a bright colour, and perfectly transparent, neither too high nor too pale. It should have a pleasant and mellow taste, sharp and agreeably bitter, without being hard or sour. It should leave no pungent sensation on the tongue; and if drank in any tolerable quantity, it must neither produce speedy intoxication, nor any of the usual effects of sleep, nausea, headache, or languor; nor should it be retained too long after drinking it, or be too quickly discharged. If beer purchased at the alehouse be suspected of having been adulterated with the infusion of vitriol, for the purpose of adding to its strength, it may be detected by putting in a few nut galls, which will immediately turn it black, if it have been so adulterated; and the beer ought by all means to be rejected, as highly injurious to the constitution, and may be fatal even to life itself. BEES. A hive of bees may be considered as a populous city, containing thirty thousand inhabitants. This community is in itself a monarchy, composed of a queen, of males which are the drones, and of working bees called neuters. The combs being composed of pure wax, serve as a magazine for their stores, and a nursery for their young. Between the combs there is a space sufficient for two bees to march abreast, and there are also transverse defiles by which they can more easily pass from one comb to another.--The queen bee is distinguishable from the rest by the form of her body. She is much longer, unwieldy, and of a brighter colour, and seldom leaves the parent hive; but when she goes to settle a new colony, all the bees attend her to the place of destination. A hive of bees cannot subsist without a queen, as she produces their numerous progeny; and hence their attachment to her is unalterable. When a queen dies, the bees immediately cease working, consume their honey, fly about at unusual times, and eventually pine away, if not supplied with another sovereign. The death of the queen is proclaimed by a clear and uninterrupted humming, which should be a warning to the owner to provide the bees if possible with another queen, whose presence will restore vigour and exertion; of such importance is a sovereign to the existence and prosperity of this community. It is computed that a pregnant queen bee contains about five thousand eggs, and that she produces from ten to twelve thousand bees in the space of two months.--Drones are smaller than the queen, but larger than the working bees, and when on the wing they make a greater noise. Their office is to impregnate the eggs of the queen after they are deposited in the cells; but when this is effected, as they become useless to the hive, they are destroyed by the working bees and thrown out; and having no sting, they are without the power of resistance. After the season of the encrease of the bees is past, and when they attend to the collection of winter stores, every vestige of the drones is destroyed to make room for the honey. When drones are observed in a hive late in autumn, it is usually a sign that the stock is poor.--Working bees compose the most numerous body of the state. They have the care of the hive, collect the wax and honey, fabricate the wax into combs, feed the young, keep the hive clean, expel all strangers, and employ themselves in promoting the general prosperity. The working bee has two stomachs, one to contain the honey, and another for the crude wax. Among the different kinds of working bees, those are to be preferred which are small, smooth, and shining, and of a gentle disposition.--Considering the rich productions of these little insects, and the valuable purposes to which they may be applied, it is truly astonishing that so important an object in rural economy has been so little attended to by the inhabitants of this country. In Egypt, the cultivation of bees forms a leading object, and their productions constitute a part of its riches. About the end of October, when sustenance cannot be provided for them at home, the inhabitants of Lower Egypt embark their bees on the Nile, and convey them to the distant regions of Upper Egypt, when the inundation is withdrawn, and the flowers are beginning to bud. These insects are thus conducted through the whole extent of that fertile country; and after having gathered all the rich produce of the banks of the Nile, are re-conducted home about the beginning of February. In France also, floating bee-hives are very common. One barge contains from sixty to a hundred hives, which are well defended from the inclemency of the weather. Thus the owners float them gently down the stream, while they gather the honey from the flowers along its banks, and a little bee-house yields the proprietors a considerable income. At other times they convey bees by land, to places where honey and wax may be collected. The hives are fastened to each other by laths placed on a thin packcloth, which is drawn up on each side and tied with packthread several times round their tops. Forty or fifty hives are then laid in a cart, and the owner takes them to distant places where the bees may feed and work. But without this labour the industrious bee might be cultivated to great advantage, and thousands of pounds weight of wax and honey collected, which now are suffered to be wasted on the desert air, or perish unheeded amidst the flowers of the field.--Those whose attention may be directed to the subject by these remarks, and who intend to erect an apiary, should purchase the stocks towards the close of the year, when bees are cheapest; and such only as are full of combs, and well furnished with bees. To ascertain the age of the hives it should be remarked, that the combs of the last year are white, while those of the former year acquire a darkish yellow. Where the combs are black, the hive should be rejected as too old, and liable to the inroads of vermin. In order to obtain the greatest possible advantage from the cultivation of bees, it is necessary to supply them with every convenience for the support of themselves and their young. And though it may be too much trouble to transport them to distant places, in order to provide them with the richest food, and to increase their abundant stores; yet in some instances this plan might in part be adopted with considerable success. It has been seen in Germany, as well as in other parts of the continent, that forty large bee hives have been filled with honey, to the amount of seventy pounds each, in one fortnight, by their being placed near a large field of buck wheat in flower; and as this and various other plants adapted to enrich the hive are to be found in many parts of England, there is no reason why a similar advantage might not be derived from such an experiment.--Besides providing for them the richest food in summer, in order to facilitate their labours, it is equally necessary to attend to their preservation in the winter. To guard against the effects of cold, the bees should be examined during the winter; and if instead of being clustered between the combs, they are found in numbers at the bottom of the hive, they should be carried to a warmer place, where they will soon recover. In very severe seasons, lay on the bottom of an old cask the depth of half a foot of fine earth pressed down hard; place the stool on this with the hive, and cut a hole in the cask opposite to the entrance of the hive, in which fix a piece of reed or hollow elder, and then cover the whole with dry earth. This will preserve a communication with the external air, and at the same time keep out the cold. The bees remaining in a torpid state during the winter, they require but little food; but as every sunny day revives and prompts them to exercise, a small supply is necessary on these occasions. Many hives of bees which are supposed to have died of cold, have in reality perished by famine, especially when a rainy summer prevented them from collecting a sufficient store of provision. Hence the hives should be carefully examined in autumn, and ought then to weigh at least eighteen pounds each. When bees require to be fed, the honey should be diluted with water, and put into an empty comb, split reeds, or upon clear wood, which the bees will suck perfectly dry. But it is a much better way to replenish the weak hives in September, with such a portion of combs filled with honey taken from other hives as may be deemed a sufficient supply. This is done by turning up the weak hive, cutting out the empty combs, and placing full ones in their stead, so secure as not to fall down when the hive is replaced. If this be too troublesome, a plate of honey may be set under the hive, and straws laid across the plate, covered with paper perforated with small holes, through which the bees will suck the honey without difficulty.--These valuable insects are liable to various disorders, both from the food they eat, from foreign enemies, and from one another. If they have fed greedily on the blossoms of the milk thistle or the elm, it will render them incapable of working, and the hive will be stained with filth. The best cure in this case is pounded pomegranate seed, moistened with sweet wine; or raisins mixed with wine or mead, and the infusion of rosemary. When they are infested with vermin, the hive must be cleansed, and perfumed with a branch of pomegranate or the wild fig-tree, which will effectually destroy them. Butterflies sometimes conceal themselves in the hives, and annoy the bees; but these intruders may easily be exterminated by placing lighted candles in deep tin pots between the hives, as they will be attracted by the flame, and so perish. In order to extirpate wasps and hornets preying upon the honey, it is only necessary to expose shallow vessels near the hive with a little water, to which those depredators eagerly repair to quench their thirst, and thus easily drown themselves. To prevent bees of one society from attacking or destroying those of another, which is frequently the case, the following method may be tried. Let a board about an inch thick be laid on the bee bench, and set the hive upon it with its mouth exactly on the edge. The mouth of the hive should also be contracted to about an inch in length, and a semicircular hole made in the board immediately under the mouth of the hive. By this simple method, the bees which come to make the attack will be foiled, and constrained to act with great disadvantage. If this do not succeed, remove the hive to a distant part of the garden, and to a more easterly or colder aspect, which will frequently end the contest.--When bees are to be taken up for the purpose of obtaining the wax and honey, great care should be taken not to destroy the insects; and for this end the following method is recommended. The upper box on the hive, which principally contains the honey, is first to be taken off. The joint should be loosened, the cement scraped off, and then a piece of iron wire to be drawn through the comb so as to divide it. When the upper box is thus separated, its cover is to be taken off and immediately placed on the second box, which is now the highest. Having taken out the contents of the box which has been separated, it is to be placed again on the stand, under the lower box, and its door only is to be left open. If any bees remain in the box when taken away, a little smoke will drive them out, and they will quickly return to their own hive. In this manner a second or a third box of honey may be removed in succession, when the lower part of the hive appears to be full; but care must be taken not to deprive the bees entirely of the stock which they have collected for the winter. In taking up a common straw hive of bees, the best way is to remove it into a darkened room, that it may appear to the bees as if it were late in the evening. Then gently turning the hive bottom upwards, and supporting it in that position, cover it with an empty hive a little raised towards the window, to give the bees sufficient light to guide their ascent. Keep the empty hive steadily supported on the edge of the full hive, and strike the hand round the full hive to frighten the bees, till they have nearly all ascended into the other. The new hive containing the bees must be placed on the stand of the apiary, to receive the absent bees as they return from the fields. BEET ROOT. This cooling and wholesome vegetable is good boiled, and sliced with a small quantity of onion, or stewed with whole onions in the following manner. Boil the beet tender with the skin on, slice it into a stewpan with a little broth and a spoonful of vinegar. Simmer it till the gravy is tinged with the colour; then put it into a small dish, and make a round of button onions, first boiled tender. Take off the skin just before serving, and let them be quite hot and clear. Or roast three large onions, and peel off the outer skins till they look clear; and serve round them the stewed beet root. The root must not be broken before it is dressed, or it will lose its colour, and look ill.--To preserve beet-root for winter use, they should not be cleared from the earth, but kept in layers of dry sand. BEETLES. When these insects become troublesome in the house, put some small lumps of quick lime into the chinks or holes of the wall from whence they issue, or scatter it on the ground. Or at night, lay a spoonful of treacle on a piece of wood, and float it in a pan of water: beetles are so fond of syrup, that they will be drowned in attempting to get at it. The common black beetle may also be extirpated by placing a hedgehog in the room, during the summer nights; or by laying a bundle of pea straw near their holes, and afterwards burning it when the beetles have crept into it. BENTON CAKES. Mix a paste of flour, a little bit of butter, and milk. Roll it as thin as possible, and bake on a backstone over the fire, or on a hot hearth. Another sort of Benton tea-cakes are made like biscuits, by rubbing into a pound of flour six ounces of butter, and three large spoonfuls of yeast. Work up the paste with a sufficient quantity of new milk, make it into biscuits, and prick them with a clean fork. Or melt six or seven ounces of butter, with a sufficient quantity of new milk warmed to make seven pounds of flour into a stiff paste. Roll it thin, and make it into biscuits. BENTON SAUCE. Grate some horse-radish, or scrape it very fine. Add to it a little made mustard, some pounded white sugar, and four large spoonfuls of vinegar. Serve it up in a saucer: this is good with hot or cold roast beef. BILLS OF FARE, or list of various articles in season in different months. JANUARY.----_Poultry._ Game, pheasants, partridges, hares, rabbits, woodcocks, snipes, turkeys, capons, pullets, fowls, chickens, tame pigeons.--_Fish._ Carp, tench, perch, eels, lampreys, crayfish, cod, soles, flounders, plaice, turbot, skate, thornback, sturgeon, smelts, whitings, crabs, lobsters, prawns, oysters.--_Vegetables._ Cabbage, savoys, coleworts, sprouts, brocoli, leeks, onions, beet, sorrel, chervil, endive, spinach, celery, garlic, potatoes, parsnips, turnips, shalots, lettuces, cresses, mustard, rape, salsify, herbs dry and green.--_Fruit._ Apples, pears, nuts, walnuts, medlars, grapes. FEBRUARY, MARCH.----Meat, fowls and game, as in January, with the addition of ducklings and chickens.--_Fish._ As the last two months, except that cod is not thought so good, from February to July.--_Vegetables._ The same as the former months, with the addition of kidney beans.--_Fruit._ Apples, pears, forced strawberries. APRIL, MAY, JUNE.----_Meat._ Beef, mutton, veal, lamb, venison in June.----_Poultry._ Pullets, fowls, chickens, ducklings, pigeons, rabbits, leverets.--_Fish._ Carp, tench, soles, smelts, eels, trout, turbot, lobsters, chub, salmon, herrings, crayfish, mackarel, crabs, prawns, shrimps.--_Vegetables._ As before, and in May, early potatoes, peas, radishes, kidney beans, carrots, turnips, early cabbages, cauliflowers, asparagus, artichokes, all sorts of forced sallads.--_Fruit._ In June, strawberries, cherries, melons, green apricots, gooseberries and currants for tarts. In July, cherries, strawberries, pears, melons, gooseberries, currants, apricots, grapes, nectarines, peaches; but most of these are forced. JULY, AUGUST, SEPTEMBER.--Meat as before.--_Poultry._ Pullets, fowls, chickens, rabbits, pigeons, green geese, leverets, turkey poults, plovers, wheatears, and geese in September.--_Fish._ Cod, haddock, flounders, plaice, skate, thornback, mullets, pike, carp, eels, shellfish, except oysters; mackarel the first two months, but are not good in August.--_Vegetables._ Beans, peas, French beans, and various others.--_Fruit._ In July, strawberries, gooseberries, pineapples, plums, cherries, apricots, raspberries, melons, currants, damsons. In August and September, peaches, plums, filberts, figs, mulberries, cherries, apples, pears, nectarines, grapes, pines, melons, strawberries, medlars, quinces, morella cherries, damsons, and various plums. OCTOBER.--Meat as before, and doe-venison.----_Poultry._ Game, pheasants, fowls, partridges, larks, hares, dotterels, wild ducks, teal, snipes, widgeon, grouse.--_Fish._ Dories, smelts, pike, perch, holibets, brills, carp, salmon trout, barbel, gudgeons, tench, shellfish.--_Vegetables._ As in January, French beans, runners, windsor beans.----_Fruit._ Peaches, pears, figs, bullace, grapes, apples, medlars, damsons, filberts, nuts, walnuts, quinces, services. NOVEMBER.--_Meat._ Beef, mutton, veal, pork, house lamb, doe venison, poultry and game. Fish as the last month.--_Vegetables._ Carrots, turnips, parsnips, potatoes, skirrets, onions, leeks, shalots, cabbage, savoys, colewort, spinach, cardoons, cresses, endive, celery, lettuces, salad, herbs.--_Fruit._ Pears, apples, nuts, walnuts, bullace, chesnuts, medlars, grapes. DECEMBER.--_Meat._ Beef, mutton, veal, house lamb, pork and venison.--_Poultry._ Game, turkeys, geese, pullets, pigeons, capons, fowls, chickens, rabbits, hares, snipes, woodcocks, larks, pheasants, partridges, sea-fowls, guinea-fowls, wild ducks, teal, widgeon, dotterels, dunbirds, grouse.--_Fish._ Turbot, cod, holibets, soles, gurnets, sturgeon, carp, gudgeons, codlings, eels, dories, shellfish.--_Vegetables._ As in the last month; asparagus forced.--_Fruit._ As the last, except bullace. BIRCH WINE. The season for obtaining the liquor from birch trees, is in the latter end of February or the beginning of March, before the leaves shoot out, and as the sap begins to rise. If the time be delayed, the juice will grow too thick to be drawn out. It should be as thin and clear as possible. The method of procuring the juice is by boring holes in the trunk of the tree, and fixing in facets made of elder; but care should be taken not to tap it in too many places at once, for fear of injuring the tree. If the tree is large, it may be bored in five or six places at once, and bottles are to be placed under the apertures to receive the sap. When four or five gallons have been extracted from different trees, cork the bottles very close, and wax them till the wine is to be made, which should be as soon as possible after the sap has been obtained. Boil the sap, and put four pounds of loaf sugar to every gallon, also the rind of a lemon cut thin; then boil it again for nearly an hour, skimming it well all the time. Into a cask that will contain it, put a lighted brimstone match, stop it up till the match is burnt out, and then pour the liquor into it as quickly as possible. When nearly cold, work it with a toast spread with yeast, and let it stand five or six days, stirring it two or three times a-day. Put the bung lightly in till it has done working; then close it down, and let it stand two or three months. The wine may then be bottled, and will be fit for use in about a week. It makes a rich and salutary cordial, and its virtues are much relied on in consumptive and scorbutic cases. BISCUIT CAKE. One pound of flour, five eggs well beaten and strained, eight ounces of sugar, a little rose or orange flower water. Beat the whole thoroughly, and bake it one hour. BISCUITS. To make hard biscuits, warm two ounces of butter in as much skimmed milk as will make a pound of flour into a very stiff paste. Beat it with a rolling pin, and work it very smooth. Roll it thin, and cut it into round biscuits. Prick them full of holes with a fork, and about six minutes will bake them.--For plain and very crisp biscuits, make a pound of flour, the yolk of an egg, and some milk, into a very stiff paste. Beat it well, and knead it quite smooth; roll the paste very thin, and cut it into biscuits. Bake them in a slow oven till quite dry and crisp.--To preserve biscuits for a long time sweet and good, no other art is necessary than packing them up in casks well caulked, and carefully lined with tin, so as to exclude the air. The biscuits should be laid as close as possible; and when it is necessary to open the cask, it must be speedily closed again with care. Sea bread may also be preserved on a long voyage, by being put into a bag which has been previously soaked in a quantity of liquid nitre, and dried. This has been found to preserve the biscuits from the fatal effects of the wevil, and other injurious insects, which are destructive to this necessary article of human sustenance. BITTERS. Bruise an ounce of gentian root, and two drams of cardamom seeds together: add an ounce of lemon peel, and three drams of Seville orange peel. Pour on the ingredients a pint and half of boiling water, and let it stand an hour closely covered: then pour off the clear liquor, and a glass of it taken two or three times a day will be found an excellent bitter for the stomach.--Or slice an ounce of gentian root, and add half a dram of snakes' root bruised, half a dram of saffron, three quarters of a dram of cardamom seeds, and the same of cochineal bruised together, and the peel of three Seville oranges. Steep the ingredients in a pint of brandy fourteen days, shaking them together frequently; then strain the tincture through a piece of muslin, and a tea-spoonful in a glass of wine may be taken two or three times a day. BLACK BUTTER. Boil a pound of moist sugar with three pounds of gooseberries, currants, raspberries, and cherries, till reduced to half the quantity. Put it into pots covered with brandy paper, and it will be found a pleasant sweetmeat. BLACK CAPS. Divide and core some fine large apples, put them in a shallow pan, strew white sugar over, and bake them. Boil a glass of wine, the same of water, and sweeten it for sauce. Or, take off a slice from the stalk end of some apples, and core without paring them. Mix with grated lemon, and a few cloves in fine powder, as much sugar as will sweeten them. Stuff the holes as close as possible with this, and turn the flat end down on a stewpan; set them on a very slow fire, with some raisin wine and water. Cover them close, and now and then baste them with the liquor: when done enough, black the tops with a salamander. BLACK INK. Infuse in a gallon of rain or soft water, a pound of blue galls bruised, and keep it stirring for three weeks. Then add four ounces of green copperas, four ounces of logwood chips, six ounces of gum arabac, and a glass of brandy.--To make ink of a superior quality, and fit for immediate use, prepare the following ingredients. Four ounces of blue galls, two ounces of chipped logwood, two of sulphate of iron, one ounce and a half of gum arabac, half an ounce of sulphate of copper, and half an ounce of brown sugar. Boil the galls and logwood in six pints of spring or distilled water, until nearly three pints of water are evaporated, then strain it through a piece of flannel. Powder the salts in a mortar, dissolve the gum in a little warm water, then mix the whole together, and shake it frequently for two or three days; during which time expose it to the air, and it will become blacker. Decant the liquor into stone bottles well corked, and it will be fit for use directly. Those who wish to avoid the trouble of such a process, will find an excellent substitute in Walkden's Ink Powder ready prepared, with directions how to use it. If a cup of sweet wort be added to two papers of the powder, it will give it the brightness of japan ink. BLACK LEAD. The best preparation for cleaning cast-iron stoves is made of black lead, mixed with a little common gin, or the dregs of port wine, and laid on the stove with a piece of linen rag. Then with a clean brush, not too hard, and dipped in some dried black lead powder, rub the stove till it comes to a beautiful brightness. This will produce a much finer black varnish on the cast-iron, than either boiling the black lead with small beer and soap, or mixing it with white of egg, as is commonly practised. BLACK PAPER, for drawing patterns, may easily be made in the following manner. Mix and smooth some lamp-black and sweet oil, with a piece of flannel. Cover a sheet or two of large writing paper with this mixture, then dab the paper dry with a rag of fine linen, and prepare it for future use by putting the black side on another sheet of paper, and fastening the corners together with a small pin. When wanted to draw, lay the pattern on the back of the black paper, and go over it with the point of a steel pencil. The black paper will then leave the impression of the pattern on the under sheet, on which you must now draw it with ink. If you draw patterns on cloth or muslin, do it with a pen dipped in a bit of stone blue, a bit of sugar, and a little water, mixed smooth in a tea cup, in which it will be always ready for use. BLACK PUDDINGS. The pig's blood must be stirred with a little salt till it is cold. Put a full quart of it to a quart of whole grits, and let it stand all night. Soak the crumb of a quartern loaf in rather more than two quarts of new milk made hot. In the meantime prepare the guts by washing, turning and scraping, with salt and water, and changing the water several times. Chop fine a little winter savoury and thyme, a good quantity of pennyroyal, pepper and salt, a few cloves, some allspice, ginger and nutmeg. Mix these all together, with three pounds of beef suet, and six eggs well beaten and strained. Have ready some hog's fat cut into large bits; and as the skins are filling with the pudding, put in the fat at intervals. Tie up in links only half filled, and boil in a large kettle, pricking them as they swell, or they will burst. When boiled, lay them between clean cloths till cold, and hang them up in the kitchen. When to be used, scald them a few minutes in water; wipe, and put them into a Dutch oven. If there be not skins enough, put the stuffing into basins, and boil it covered with floured cloths. Slice and fry it when used.--Another way is, to soak all night a quart of bruised grits in as much boiling-hot milk as will swell them, and leave half a pint of liquid. Chop a quantity of pennyroyal, savoury and thyme; add salt and pepper, and allspice finely powdered. Mix the above with a quart of the blood, prepared as before directed; clean the skins thoroughly, half fill them with the stuffing, put in as much of the leaf fat of the pig as will make it pretty rich, and boil as before directed. A small quantity of leeks finely shred and well mixed, is a great improvement.--A superior article may be made as follows: boil a quart of half-grits in as much milk as will swell them to the utmost, drain them and add a quart of blood, a pint of rich cream, a pound of suet, some mace, nutmeg, allspice, and four cloves, all in fine powder. And two pounds of hog's leaf cut into dice, two leeks, a handful of parsley, ten leaves of sage, a large handful of pennyroyal, and a sprig of thyme and knotted marjoram, all finely minced; eight eggs well beaten, half a pound of bread crumbs scalded in a pint of milk, with pepper and salt. Soak and clean the skins in several waters, last of all in rose-water, and half fill them with the stuffing. Tie the skins in links, boil and prick them with a clean fork, to prevent their breaking, and cover them with a clean cloth till cold. BLACKBERRY JAM. Put some red, but not ripe, blackberries into a jar, and cover it up closely. Set the jar in a kettle or deep stewpan of water over the fire, as a water bath; and when it has simmered five or six hours, force the juice through a sieve. To every pint of juice, add two pounds of powdered loaf-sugar, boiling and scumming it in the same manner as for any other jam or jelly. This simple article is said to afford effectual relief in cases of stone or gravel: a tea-spoonful to be taken every night, and repeated in the morning, if necessary. A good jam may also be made of ripe blackberries, in a similar manner; and both, like other jams, should be kept in jars, closely tied over with brandy paper. BLACKBERRY WINE. Pick and clean a quantity of ripe blackberries; to every quart of fruit, add a quart of cold water which has first been boiled. Bruise them well, and let the whole stand twenty-four hours, stirring it occasionally during that time. Express all the juice and run it through a sieve or jelly bag, on a pound and a half of sugar to each gallon of liquid. Stir it till thoroughly dissolved, put it in a well seasoned barrel, add a little dissolved isinglass, and let it remain open till the next day; then bung it up. This makes a pleasant wine, which may be bottled off in about two months. BLACKING for shoes is made of four ounces of ivory black, three ounces of the coarsest sugar, a table-spoonful of sweet oil, and a pint of small beer, gradually mixed together cold. BLACKING BALLS. Portable shoe-blacking, in the form of cakes or balls, is made in the following manner. Take four ounces of mutton suet, one ounce of bees-wax, one of sweet oil, and a dram each of powdered sugar-candy and gum-arabac. Melt them well together over a slow fire; add a spoonful of turpentine, and lamp-black sufficient to give it a good black colour. While hot enough to run, make the composition into a ball, by pouring it into a tin mould; or let it stand till nearly cold, and then it may be moulded into any form by the hand. BLADE-BONE OF PORK. Cut it from the bacon-hog, with a small quantity of meat upon it, and lay it on the gridiron. When nearly done pepper and salt it. Add a piece of butter, and a tea-spoonful of mustard; and serve it up quickly. This dish is much admired in Somersetshire. A blade-bone of mutton may be dressed in the same way. BLAMANGE. Boil two ounces of isinglass half an hour, in a pint and half of water, and strain off the cream. Sweeten it, and add some peach water, or a few bitter almonds; let it boil up once, and put it into what forms you please. Be sure to let the blamange settle before you turn it into the forms, or the blacks will remain at the bottom of them, and be on the top of the blamange when taken out of the moulds. If not to be very stiff, a little less isinglass will do.--For Yellow Blamange, pour a pint of boiling water upon an ounce of isinglass, and the peel of one lemon. When cold, sweeten with two ounces of fine sugar: add a quarter of a pint of white wine, the yolks of four eggs, and the juice of one lemon. Stir all together, and let it boil five minutes: strain through a bag, and put into cups. BLANKETS, if not in constant use, are liable to be moth-eaten. To prevent this, they should be folded and laid under feather beds that are in use, and occasionally shaken. When soiled, they should be washed, not scoured: and well dried before they are laid by, or they will breed moths. BLEACHING OF STRAW. This is generally done by the fumes of sulphur, in a place enclosed for that purpose: but to render the straw very white, and encrease its flexibility in platting, it should be dipped in a solution of oxygenated muriatic acid, saturated with potash. Oxygenated muriate of lime will also answer the purpose. To repair straw bonnets, they must be carefully ripped to pieces; the plat should be bleached with the above solution, and made up afresh. BLUE INK. Dissolve an ounce of finely powdered verdigris, and half an ounce of cream of tartar, in three ounces of water. This will make a fine blue writing ink, which has the singular property of giving to an iron nail, immersed in it for twenty-four hours, a beautiful green colour. BOARDED FLOORS will preserve a beautiful appearance, if treated in the following manner. After washing them very clean with soda and warm water, and a brush, wash them with a large sponge and clean water, observing that no spot be left untouched. Be careful to clean straight up and down, not crossing from board to board: then dry with clean cloths, rubbing hard up and down the same way. The floors should not be often wetted, but very thoroughly when done; and once a week dry-rubbed with hot sand, and a heavy brush, the right way of the boards. If oil or grease have stained the floor, make a strong lye of pearl-ashes and soft water, and add as much unslaked lime as it will take up. Stir it together, and then let it settle a few minutes; bottle it, and stop it close. When used, lower it with a little water, and scour the part with it. If the liquor lie long on the boards, it will extract their colour; it must therefore be done with care and expedition. Stone work may be freed from stains in the same way. BOCKINGS. Mix three ounces of buck-wheat flour with a tea-cupful of warm milk, and a spoonful of yeast. Let it rise before the fire about an hour; then mix four eggs well beaten, and as much milk as will make the batter the usual thickness for pancakes, and fry them in the same manner. BOILING. Cleanliness here is of great consequence; and for this purpose all culinary vessels should be made of iron, or of other metals well tinned. The pernicious effects of copper or brass may be perceived by rubbing the hand round the inside of a pot or kettle made of either of those metals, and which has been scoured clean and fit for use; for though it may not discolour the hand, yet it will cause an offensive smell, and must in some degree affect every article which is put into it. If copper or brass be used, they should be well cleaned, and nothing suffered to remain in the vessels longer than is necessary for the purposes of cooking. In small families however, block-tin saucepans and boilers are much to be preferred, as lightest and safest. If proper care be taken of them, and they are well dried after being cleaned, they are also by far the cheapest; the purchase of a new tin saucepan being little more than the expense of tinning a copper one. Care should be taken to have the covers of boiling pots fit close, not only to prevent an unnecessary evaporation of the water, but that the smoke may not insinuate itself under the edge of the lid, and give the meat a bad taste. A trivet or fish drainer placed in the boiler to lay the meat on, and to raise it an inch and a half from the bottom, will prevent that side of it which comes next the bottom from being done too much, and the lower part of the meat will be as delicately done as any other. Instead of a trivet, four skewers stuck into the meat transversely will answer the purpose, or a soup plate whelmed the wrong side upwards. With good management it will take less fire for boiling than for roasting, but it should be kept to a regular pitch, so as to keep the pot gently boiling all the time. If it boils too fast, it will harden the meat, by extracting too much of the gravy; but if it be allowed to simmer only, or to boil gently, it will become rich and tender. The scum must be carefully taken off as soon as the water boils, or it will sink and discolour the meat. The oftener it is scummed, and the cleaner the top of the water is kept, the cleaner will be the meat; and if a little cold water be occasionally thrown in, it will bring up the remainder of the scum to the surface. Neither mixing milk with the water nor wrapping up the meat in a cloth are necessary, if the scum be attentively removed; and the meat will have a more delicate colour, and a finer flavour, if boiled in clear water only. The general rule for boiling is to allow a quarter of an hour to a pound of meat; but if it be boiled gently or simmered only, which is by far the superior way, twenty minutes to the pound will scarcely be found too much. At the same time care must be taken to keep the pot constantly boiling, and not to suffer the meat to remain in after it is done enough, or it will become sodden, and lose its flavour. The quantity of water is regulated by the size of the meat; sufficient to cover it, but not to drown it; and the less water, the more savoury will the meat be, and the better the broth. It is usual to put all kinds of fresh meat into hot water, and salt meat into cold water; but if the meat has been salted only a short time it is better to put it in when the water boils, or it will draw out too much of the gravy. Lamb, veal, and pork require rather more boiling than other meat, to make them wholesome. The hind quarters of most animals require longer time to dress than the fore quarters, and all kinds of provision require more time in frosty weather than in summer. Large joints of beef and mutton are better a little underdone; they make the richer hash; but meat that is fresh slain will remain tough and hard, in whatever way it may be cooked. All meat should be washed clean before it is put into the boiler, but salt meat especially. A ham of twenty pounds will take four hours and a half in boiling, and others in proportion. A dried tongue, after being soaked, will take four hours boiling: a tongue out of pickle, from two hours and a half to three hours, or more if very large: it must be judged by its feeling quite tender. Boiling is in general the most economical mode of cooking, if care be taken to preserve the broth, and apply it to useful purposes. BOILED BACON. Soak it, and take off the rind before boiling. A pound of bacon boiled without the skin will weigh an ounce heavier than a pound boiled with it. Fat bacon should be put into hot water, and lean into cold water, when it is to be dressed. Young bacon will boil in about three quarters of an hour. Grate some toasted bread over it, and set it near the fire to brown it a little, before it is sent to table. BOILED BEEF. When the water boils put in the meat, whether beef or mutton, and take off the scum as it rises. If the scum be suffered to sink, it will stick to the meat, and spoil its colour. Turnips, greens, potatoes, or carrots with the beef, and caper sauce with the mutton. BOILED CUSTARD. Set a pint of cream over a slow fire, adding two ounces of sugar, and the rind of a lemon. Take it off the fire as soon as it begins to simmer; as the cream cools, add by degrees the yolks of eight eggs well beaten, with a spoonful of orange water. Stir it carefully over a slow fire till it almost boils, and strain it quickly through a piece of thin muslin. Put it into cups, and serve it up cold. BOILED DUCK. Choose a fine fat duck, salt it two days, and boil it slowly in a cloth. Serve it with onion sauce, but melt the butter with milk instead of water. BOILED EELS. The small ones are best, provided they are bright, and of a good colour. After they are skinned, boil them in a small quantity of water, with a quantity of parsley, which with the liquor should be sent to table with them. Serve chopped parsley and butter for sauce. BOILED FOWL. For boiling, choose those that are not black-legged. Pick them nicely, singe, wash, and truss them. Flour them, and put them into boiling water: half an hour will be sufficient for one of middling size. Serve with parsley and butter; oyster, lemon, liver, or celery sauce. If for dinner, ham, tongue or bacon is usually served with them, and also greens.--When cooked with rice, stew the fowl very slowly in some clear mutton broth well skimmed, and seasoned with onion, mace, pepper and salt. About half an hour before it is ready, put in a quarter of a pint of rice well washed and soaked. Simmer it till it is quite tender, strain it from the broth, and put the rice on a sieve before the fire. Keep the fowl hot, lay it in the middle of the dish, and the rice round it without the broth. The broth will be nice by itself, but the less liquor the fowl is done with the better. Gravy, or parsley and butter, for sauce. BOILED HAM. Soak the ham in cold water the night before it is to be dressed, scrape it clean, and put it into the boiler with cold water. Skim the liquor while boiling; let it not boil fast, but simmer only, and add a little cold water occasionally for this purpose. When the ham is done, take it up, pull off the skin carefully, and grate a crust of bread over it so as to cover it tolerably thick. Set it before the fire, or put it into the oven till the bread is crisp; garnish it with carrots, or any thing that is in season. A ham of twenty pounds will require five hours boiling, and others in proportion. BOILED LEG OF PORK. Salt it eight or ten days; and when it is to be dressed, weigh it. Let it lie half an hour in cold water to make it white: allow a quarter of an hour for every pound, and half an hour over, from the time it boils up. Skim it as soon as it boils, and frequently after. Allow plenty of water, and save some of it for peas-soup. The leg should be small, and of a fine grain; and if boiled in a floured cloth, it will improve the colour and appearance. Serve it with peas-pudding and turnips. BOILED SALMON. Clean it carefully, boil it gently, and take it out of the water as soon as done. Let the water be warm, if the fish be split: if underdone, it is very unwholesome. Serve with shrimp or anchovy sauce. BOILED TURBOT. The turbot kettle must be of a proper size, and in good order. Set the fish in cold water sufficient to cover it completely, throw a handful of salt and a glass of vinegar into it, and let it gradually boil. Be very careful that no blacks fall into it; but skim it well, and preserve the beautiful colour of the fish. Serve it garnished with a complete fringe of curled parsley, lemon and horse-radish. The sauce must be the finest lobster, anchovy and butter, and plain butter, served plentifully in separate tureens.--If necessary, turbot will keep two or three days, and be in as high perfection as at first, if lightly rubbed over with salt, and carefully hung in a cold place. BOILED TURKEY. A turkey will neither boil white nor eat tender, unless it has been killed three or four days. Pick it clean, draw it at the rump, cut off the legs, stick the end of the thighs into the body, and tie them fast. Flour the turkey, put it into the water while cold, let it boil gently half an hour or more, take off the scum, and cover the kettle close. Make the stuffing of grated bread and lemon peel, four ounces of shred suet, a few chopped oysters, two eggs, and a little cream. Fill the craw with stuffing, and make the rest into balls, which are to be boiled and laid round the dish. The stuffing may be made without oysters; or force-meat or sausage may be used, mixed with crumbs of bread and yolks of eggs. Celery sauce or white sauce is very proper. BOILED VEAL. Dredge it with flour, tie it up in a cloth, and put it in when the water boils. A knuckle requires more boiling in proportion to its weight, than any other joint, to render the gristle soft and tender. Parsley and butter, bacon and greens, are commonly eaten with it. BOILERS. Copper boilers and saucepans are apt to become leaky, when they have been joined or mended, or from bruises, which sometimes render them unfit for use. In this case a cement of pounded quicklime, mixed with ox's blood, applied fresh to the injured part, will be of great advantage, and very durable. A valuable cement for such purposes may also be made of equal parts of vinegar and milk mixed together so as to produce a curd: the whey is then put to the whites of four or five eggs after they have been well beaten, and the whole reduced to a thick paste by the addition of some quicklime finely sifted. This composition applied to cracks or fissures of any kind, and properly dried, will resist the effects of fire and water. BOLOGNA SAUSAGES. Cut into small pieces four pounds of lean beef, and add to it a pound of diced suet, with the same quantity of diced bacon. Season with allspice, pepper, bay salt, saltpetre, and a little powder of bay leaves. Mix the whole together, tie the meat up in skins about the thickness of the wrist, dry the sausages in the same manner as tongues, and eat them without boiling. BOLOGNA SOUP. Bind close with packthread, fifteen pounds of brisket of beef, and put it into a pot with water sufficient to cover it. Then add three large carrots, some good turnips, four onions, a bunch of sweet herbs, and half a white cabbage sliced and fried in butter. The pot must be well scummed before the herbs are put in. It must boil very slowly for five or six hours; and when half boiled, prepare three or four pounds of loin of mutton, with all the fat taken off, and put it into the pot. Flavour the soup with whole pepper, and a head of celery; and to make it of a good colour, draw the gravy from a pound of lean beef over a slow fire, and add a ladleful to the soup, first carefully taking off all the fat. Having cut and dried the crust of a French roll, lay it in a stewpan with a little soup; and after stewing it over a slow fire, place it with a slice in the soup tureen. The beef must be untied, and served up with chopped parsley strewed over it; accompanied also with gravy sauce, a few capers, and some chopped carrots, thickened with the yolk of an egg. Add a little seasoning to the soup. BOOTS. Persons who travel much, or are often exposed to the weather, must be sensible of the importance of being provided with boots that will resist the wet. The following is a composition for preserving leather, the good effects of which are sufficiently ascertained. One pint of drying oil, two ounces of yellow wax, two ounces of spirit of turpentine, and half an ounce of Burgundy pitch, should be carefully melted together over a slow fire. With this mixture, new shoes and boots are to be rubbed in the sun, or at some distance from the fire, with a sponge or brush. The operation is to be repeated as often as they become dry, and until they are fully saturated. In this manner the leather becomes impervious to the wet: the boots or shoes last much longer than those of common leather, acquire such softness and pliability that they never shrivel or grow hard, and in that state are the most effectual preservation against wet and cold. It is necessary to observe, however, that boots or shoes thus prepared ought not to be worn till they become perfectly dry and flexible: otherwise the leather will be too soft, and the boots unserviceable. BOOT TOPS. Many of the compositions sold for the purpose of cleaning and restoring the colour of boot tops, are not found to answer, and are often injurious to the leather. A safe and easy preparation is made of a quart of boiled milk, which, when cold, is to be mixed with an ounce of the oil of vitriol, and an ounce of the spirit of salts, shaken well together. An ounce of red lavender is then to be added, and the liquid applied to the leather with a sponge. Or, mix a dram of oxymuriate of potash with two ounces of distilled water; and when the salt is dissolved, add two ounces of muriatic acid. Shake together in another vial, three ounces of rectified spirits of wine, with half an ounce of the essential oil of lemon, and unite the contents of the two vials, keeping the liquid closely corked for use. It is to be applied with a clean sponge, and dried gently; after which the tops may be polished with a proper brush, so as to appear like new leather. This mixture will readily take out grease, or any kind of spots, from leather or parchment. BOTTLES. The common practice of cleaning glass bottles with shot is highly improper; for if through inattention any of it should remain, when the bottles are again filled with wine or cider, the lead will be dissolved, and the liquor impregnated with its pernicious qualities. A few ounces of potash dissolved in water will answer the purpose much better, and clean a great number of bottles. If any impurity adhere to the sides, a few pieces of blotting paper put into the bottle, and shaken with the water, will very soon remove it. Another way is to roll up some pieces of blotting paper, steep them in soap and water, then put them into bottles or decanters with a little warm water, and shake them well for a few minutes: after this they will only require to be rinsed and dried. BOTTLING LIQUORS. Here the first thing to be attended to is, to see that the bottles be perfectly clean and dry; if wet, they will spoil the liquor, and make it turn mouldy. Then, though the bottles should be clean and dry, yet if the corks be not new and sound, the liquor will be damaged; for if the air can by any means penetrate, the liquor will grow flat, and never rise. As soon as a cask of liquor begins to grow vapid, and to lose its briskness, while it is on the tap, it should be drawn off immediately into bottles; and in order to quicken it, put a piece of loaf sugar into every bottle, about the size of a walnut. To forward the ripening, wrap the bottles in hay, and set them in a warm place; straw will not answer the purpose. When ale is to be bottled, it will be an improvement to add a little rice, a few raisins, or a tea-spoonful of moist sugar to each bottle. In the summer time, if table beer is bottled as soon as it has done working, it will soon become brisk, and make a very pleasant and refreshing drink. BOTTLED CURRANTS. See that the bottles be perfectly clean and dry, and let the fruit be gathered quite ripe, and when the weather is dry. The currants should be cut from the large stalks, with the smallest bit of stalk to each, and care taken not to wound the fruit, that none of the moisture may escape. It would be best indeed to cut them under the trees, and let them drop gently into the bottles. Stop up the bottles with cork and rosin, and trench them in the garden with the neck downwards: sticks should be placed opposite to where each sort of fruit begins. Cherries and damsons may be kept in the same way. BOTTLED GOOSEBERRIES. Pick some smooth gooseberries before they are quite full grown, put them into gooseberry bottles lightly corked, and set them up to their necks in a copper of cold water. Put a little hay round the bottles to prevent their breaking, make a fire under them, and let the heat increase gradually; let them simmer ten minutes, but not boil. Take out the fire, and let them remain in the copper till cold. Then take them out, dry the bottles, rosin down the corks close, and set them in dry saw-dust with their necks downward. BRAISING. To braise any kind of meat, put it into a stewpan, and cover it with fat bacon. Then add six or eight onions, a bundle of herbs, carrots, celery, any bones or trimmings of meat or fowls, and some stock. The bacon must be covered with white paper, and the lid of the pan must be kept close. Set it on a slow stove; and according to what the meat is, it will require two or three hours. The meat is then to be taken out, the gravy nicely skimmed, and set on to boil very quick till it is thick. The meat is to be kept hot; and if larded, put into the oven for a few minutes. Then put the jelly over it, which is called glazing, and is used for ham, tongue, and various made-dishes. White wine is added to some glazing. The glaze should be of beautiful clear yellow brown, and it is best put on with a nice brush. BRAISED CHICKENS. Bone them, and fill them with forcemeat. Lay the bones and any other poultry trimmings into a stewpan, and the chickens on them. Put to them a few onions, a handful of herbs, three blades of mace, a pint of stock, and a glass or two of sherry. Cover the chickens with slices of bacon, and then white paper; cover the whole close, and put them on a slow stove for two hours. Then take them up, strain the braise, and skim off the fat carefully: set it on to boil very quick to a glaze, and lay it over the chicken with a brush. Before glazing, put the chicken into an oven for a few minutes, to give it a colour. Serve with a brown fricassee of mushrooms. BRAISED MUTTON. Take off the chump end of a loin of mutton, cover it with buttered paper, and then with paste, as for venison. Roast it two hours, but let it not be browned. Have ready some French beans boiled, and drained on a sieve; and while you are glazing the mutton, give the beans one heat-up in gravy, and lay them on the dish with the meat over them. BRAISED VEAL. Lard the best end of a neck of veal with bacon rolled in chopped parsley, salt, pepper and nutmeg. Put it into a tosser, and cover it with water. Add the scrag end of the neck, a little lean bacon or ham, an onion, two carrots, two heads of celery, and a glass of Madeira. Stew it quickly for two hours, or till it is tender, but not too much. Strain off the liquor: mix a little flour and butter in a stewpan till brown, and lay the veal in this, the upperside to the bottom of the pan. Let it be over the fire till it gets coloured: then lay it into the dish, stir some of the liquor in and boil it up, skim it nicely, and squeeze orange and lemon juice into it. BRANDY CREAM. Boil two dozen of blanched almonds, and pounded bitter almonds, in a little milk. When cold, add to it the yolks of five eggs beating well in cream; sweeten, and put to it two glasses of good brandy. After it is well mixed, pour to it a quart of thin cream; set it over the fire, but not to boil. Stir it one way till it thickens, then pour into cups or low glasses, and when cold it will be ready. A ratafia drop may be added to each cup; and if intended to keep, the cream must be previously scalded. BRANDY PUDDING. Line a mould with jar-raisins stoned, or dried cherries, then with thin slices of French roll; next to which put ratafias, or macaroons; then the fruit, rolls and cakes in succession, till the mould is full, sprinkling in at times two glasses of brandy. Beat four eggs, add a pint of milk or cream lightly sweetened, half a nutmeg, and the rind of half a lemon finely grated. Let the liquid sink into the solid part; then flour a cloth, tie it tight over, and boil one hour; keep the mould the right side up. Serve with pudding sauce. BRASS. Culinary vessels made of this metal, are constantly in danger of contracting verdigris. To prevent this, instead of wiping them dry in the usual manner, let them be frequently immersed in water, and they will be preserved safe and clean. BRAWN. Young brawn is to be preferred, the horny part of which will feel moderately tender, and the flavour will be better; the rind of old brawn will be hard. For Mock Brawn, boil a pair of neat's feet very tender; take the meat off, and have ready a belly-piece of salt pork, which has been in pickle for a week. Boil this almost enough, take out the bones if there be any, and roll the feet and the pork together. Bind it tight together with a strong cloth and coarse tape, boil it quite tender, and hang it up in the cloth till cold. Keep it afterwards in souse till it is wanted. BREAD. Two very important reasons urge the propriety and necessity of using home-baked bread, in preference to baker's bread, wherever it can be done with tolerable convenience; these are, its superior quality, and its cheapness. A bushel of wheat, weighing sixty pounds, will make sixty-five pounds of household bread, after the bran has been taken out; and if the pollard be separated also, to make a finer article, a bushel of ground wheat will then make fifty-eight pounds of fine white bread, free from any foreign mixture, leaving from ten to fifteen pounds of bran and pollard, which may be applied to useful purposes. The calculation then will be easy, and the difference between purchasing and making bread will be seen at once. A bushel of ground wheat weighing sixty pounds will produce thirteen quartern loaves and a half of fine bread, after the bran and pollard have been taken out; add to the price of the wheat, nine-pence a bushel for grinding, three-pence for yeast, four-pence for salt and the expence of baking; and from this deduct six-pence at least for the value of the bran and pollard, and it gives the price of the quartern loaves made and baked at home. In general it will be found that there is a saving of one third of the expense, if the business be properly conducted. Then the wholesome and nutricious quality of the bread is incomparably superior; there is no addition of alum, ground potatoes, whiting, or any other ingredient to give weight or colour to the bread, as is too often the case with baker's bread; but all is nutricious, sound, and good. But supposing their bread to be equal in quality, there is still a considerable saving in the course of a year, especially in a large family; and if household bread be made instead of fine bread, every bushel of good heavy wheat will produce nearly fifteen quartern loaves. Besides this, rye, and even a little barley mixed with the wheat, will make very good bread, and render it cheaper still. Rye will add a sweetness to the bread, and make it cut firmer, so as to prevent the waste of crumbs, and is unquestionably an article of good economy. The addition of potatoes is by no means to be approved, though so often recommended; any of the grains already mentioned have in them ten times the nutrition of potatoes, and in the end will be found to be much cheaper. Making bread with skim milk, instead of water, where it can be done, is highly advantageous, and will produce a much better article than can be purchased at a baker's shop.--On the subject of making bread, little need be said, as every common maid-servant is or ought to be well acquainted with this necessary part of household work, or she is good for nothing. To make good bread however, the flour should be kept four or five weeks before it is baked. Then put half a bushel of it into a kneading trough, mix with it between four and five quarts of warm water or skim milk, and a pint and a half of good yeast, and stir it well together with the hand till it become tough. Let it rise before the fire, about an hour and a half, or less if it rise fast; then, before it falls, add four quarts more of warm water, and half a pound of salt. Work it well, and cover it with a cloth. Put the fire into the oven; and by the time it is heated, the dough will be ready. Make the loaves about five pounds each, sweep out the oven very clean and quick, and put in the bread; shut it up close, and two hours and a half will bake it. In summer the water should be milk warm, in winter a little more, and in frosty weather as hot as the hand will bear, but not scalding, or the whole will be spoiled. Bread is better baked without tins, which gives to the crust an unnatural degree of hardness.--Those who are under the necessity of purchasing baker's bread, for want of other convenience, may detect the adulteration of alum by macerating a small piece of the crumb of new-baked bread in cold water, sufficient to dissolve it; and the taste of the alum, if it has been used, will acquire a sweet astringency. Or a heated knife may be thrust into a loaf before it has grown cold; and if it be free from that ingredient, scarcely any alteration will be visible on the blade; but, in the contrary case, its surface, after being allowed to cool, will appear slightly covered with an aluminous incrustation. BREAD CAKE. To make a common bread cake, separate from the dough, when making white bread, as much as is sufficient for a quartern loaf, and knead well into it two ounces of butter, two of Lisbon sugar, and eight of currants. Warm the butter in a tea-cupful of good milk. By adding another ounce of butter or sugar, or an egg or two, the cake may be improved, especially by putting in a tea-cupful of raw cream. It is best to bake it in a pan, rather than as a loaf, the outside being less hard. BREAD CHEESECAKES. Slice a penny white loaf as thin as possible, pour over it a pint of boiling cream, and let it stand two hours. Beat up eight eggs, half a pound of butter, and a grated nutmeg. Put in half a pound of currants, well washed and dried, and a spoonful of brandy or white wine. Bake them in pattipans, or raised crusts. BREAD PUDDING. Grate some white bread, pour over some boiling milk, and cover it close. When soaked an hour or two, beat it fine, and mix with it two or three eggs well beaten. Put it into a bason that will just hold it, tie a floured cloth over it, and put it into boiling water. Send it up with melted butter poured over: it may be eaten with salt or sugar. Prunes, or French plums, make a fine pudding instead of raisins, either with suet or bread pudding.--Another and richer. Pour half a pint of scalding milk, on half a pint of bread crumbs, and cover it up for an hour. Beat up four eggs, and when strained, add to the bread, with a tea-spoonful of flour, an ounce of butter, two ounces of sugar, half a pound of currants, an ounce of almonds beaten with orange-flower water, half an ounce of orange, of lemon, and of citron. Butter a bason that will exactly hold it, flour the cloth, tie it tight over, and boil the pudding an hour. BREAD SAUCE. Boil a large onion quartered, with some black pepper and milk, till the onion is quite a pap. Pour the milk on white stale-bread grated, and cover it. In an hour put it into a saucepan, with a good piece of butter mixed with a little flour: boil the whole up together, and serve with it. BREAD SOUP. Boil some pieces of bread crust in a quart of water, with a small piece of butter. Beat it with a spoon, and keep it boiling till the bread and water be well mixed: then season it with a little salt. [Illustration: _PATENT BREWING MACHINE._ A _The Machine ready for use, with the Cover raised._ B _Moveable Fire place._ C _Cylindrical Boiler to be placed on_ B, _with its Cover_ D. E _Extracting perforated Cylinder to be placed within_ C. F _Centre for ditto._ G. G _Coolers, one to pack within the other._] BREAD AND BUTTER PUDDING. Spread some butter on slices of bread, and lay them in a dish, with currants between each layer. To make it rich, add some sliced citron, orange, or lemon. Pour over an unboiled custard of milk, two or three eggs, a few corns of pimento, and a very little ratifia, two hours at least before it is to be baked, and lade it over to soak the bread. A paste round the edge makes all puddings look better, but it is not necessary. BREAD AND RICE PUDDING. Boil a quarter of a pound of rice in some milk till it is quite soft, put it into a bason, and let it stand till the next day. Soak some sliced bread in cold milk, drain it off, mash it fine, and mix it with the rice. Beat up two eggs with it, add a little salt, and boil it an hour. BREAKFAST CAKES. Take a pound and a half of flour, four ounces of butter, a spoonful of yeast, and half a pint of warm milk. Rub the butter into the flour, and mix the eggs, yeast, and milk together. Put the liquid into the middle of the flour, and let it stand to rise for two hours. Make it into cakes, let them stand to rise again, and wash them over with skimmed milk before they are put into the oven. BREAST OF LAMB. Cut off the chine-bone from the breast, and set it on to stew with a pint of gravy. When the bones would draw out, put it on the gridiron to grill; and then lay it in a dish on cucumbers nicely stewed. BREAST OF MUTTON. Pare off the superfluous fat, and roast and serve the meat with stewed cucumbers; or to eat cold, covered with chopped parsley. Or half-boil, and then grill it before the fire: cover it with bread crumbs and herbs, and serve with caper sauce. Or if boned, take away a good deal of the fat, and cover it with bread, herbs, and seasoning. Then roll and boil it; serve with chopped walnuts, or capers and butter. BREAST OF VEAL. Before roasting it, take off the two ends to fry and stew, if the joint be large, or roast the whole together, and pour butter over it. If any be left, cut it into regular pieces, put them into a stewpan, and pour some broth over it. If no broth, a little water will do: add a bunch of herbs, a blade or two of mace, some pepper, and an anchovy. Stew till the meat be tender, thicken with flour and butter, and add a little ketchup. Serve the sweetbread whole upon it, which may either be stewed or parboiled, and then covered with crumbs, herbs, pepper and salt, and browned in a Dutch oven. The whole breast may be stewed in the same way, after cutting off the two ends. A boiled breast of veal, smothered with onion sauce, is also an excellent dish, if not old nor too fat. BRENTFORD ROLLS. Mix with two pounds of flour, a little salt, two ounces of sifted sugar, four ounces of butter, and two eggs beaten with two spoonfuls of yeast, and about a pint of milk. Knead the dough well, and set it to rise before the fire. Make twelve rolls, butter tin plates, and set them before the fire to rise, till they become of a proper size, and bake them half an hour. BREWING. The practice of brewing malt liquor is but seldom adopted by private families in large towns and cities, owing probably to a want of conveniences for the purpose, and an aversion to the labour and trouble which it might occasion. But if the disagreeable filthiness attending the process in large public breweries were duly considered, together with the generally pernicious quality of the beer offered to sale, as well as the additional expense incurred by this mode of procuring it, no one who regards economy, or the health and comfort of his family, would be without home-brewed beer, so long as there were any means left of obtaining it. Beer as strong of malt and hops, when all the foreign ingredients are extracted, may be manufactured at home at less than one third of what it could cost at a public brewery, besides the satisfaction of drinking, what is known to be wholesome, and free from any deleterious mixture. Twelve shillings for malt and hops will provide a kilderkin of beer far superior to one that could be purchased under license for a pound, while the yeast and the grains are sufficient to repay all the labour and expense of brewing. On every account, therefore, it is desirable that the practice of domestic brewing were universally adopted. The health and comfort of the community would be increased; and by a larger consumption of malt, the growth of barley would be extended, and agriculture proportionably benefited. In order to this however, the enormous duty upon malt requires to be diminished or repealed. The farmer, unable to make three shillings a bushel of his barley, is suffering severely under this grinding taxation, as well as the consumer, who is compelled to pay a duty of four shillings and six-pence for every bushel that is converted into malt.--The best seasons of the year for brewing are March and October, the weather in those months being generally free from the extremes of heat and cold, which are alike injurious to the process of fermentation. If this is not in all cases practicable, means should be used to cool the place where the liquor is set for working in the summer, and of warming it in the winter: otherwise the beer will be likely to turn sour or muddy. The beer which is brewed in March should not be tapped till October, nor that brewed in October till the following March; taking this precaution, that families of an equal number all the year round, will drink at least a third more in summer than in winter.--The most suitable water for brewing is soft river water, which having had the rays of the sun and the influence of the air upon it, will more easily penetrate and extract the virtues of the malt. Hard water possesses an astringent quality, which prevents the goodness of the malt from being freely communicated to the liquor. If two parcels of beer be brewed in all respects the same, except in the quality of the water, it will be found that the beer brewed with soft river water will exceed the other in strength above five degrees, in the course of twelve months' keeping. Where water is naturally of a hard quality, it may in some measure be softened by exposing it to the action of the sun and air, and infusing in it some pieces of soft chalk. Throwing into it a quantity of bran while it is boiling, and before it is poured on the malt, will likewise have a good effect.--Previous to commencing the process of brewing, it will be necessary to ascertain the quantity of malt and hops, which of course will be regulated by the demands of the family, the convenience of cellerage, and other circumstances. Supposing two or three sorts of liquor be required, six bushels of malt, and about three quarters of a pound of hops to each bushel, will make half a hogshead of ale, half a hogshead of table beer, and the same of small beer; or about nine gallons of each to the bushel. But if in a smaller brewing, only two sorts are required, or the whole be blended into one, then eighteen gallons of wholesome beverage may be produced at something less than three farthings a pint.--Having thus adjusted the proportion of malt and hops to the quantity of beer to be brewed, the next thing will be to heat water sufficient for the purpose. Meanwhile see that the brewing utensils be properly cleaned and scalded, and the pen-staff in the mash tub well fixed. Then put a quantity of boiling water into the mash-tub, in which it must stand till the greater part of the steam is gone off, or you can see your own shadow in it. It will then be necessary that one person should pour the malt gently in, while another is carefully stirring it. A little malt should be reserved to strew over the mash in order to prevent evaporation, and then the tub may be covered over with sacks. If it be not sufficient to contain the whole at once, the mashing must be repeated, observing that the larger the quantity that is mashed at once, the longer it will require to stand before it is drawn off. The mash of ale must be allowed to steep three hours, table beer one hour, and small beer half an hour afterwards. By this mode of proceeding, the boilings will regularly succeed each other, which will greatly expedite the business. In the course of mashing, be careful to stir it thoroughly from the bottom, especially round the basket, that there may be no adhesion, in any part of the mash. Previous to running it off, be prepared with a pail to catch the first flush, as that is generally thick, and return it to the mash two or three times, till it run clear and fine. By this time the copper should be boiling, and a convenient tub placed close to the mash-tub. Put into it half the quantity of boiling water intended for drawing off the best wort; after which the copper must be filled up again, and proper attention paid to the fire. Meanwhile, keep slopping and wetting the mash with the hot water out of the tub, in moderate quantities, every eight or ten minutes, till all the water is added to the mash. Then let off the remaining quantity, which will be boiling hot, and this will finish the process for strong beer. Boil up the copper as quick as possible for the second mash, whether intended for strong or small beer. Empty the boiling water into the tub by the side of the mash, as in the former instance, and renew the process. Great care is required in boiling the wort after it is drawn off, and the hops must be put in with the first boiling. In filling the copper with the wort, leave sufficient room for boiling, that there may be no waste in boiling over, and make a good fire under it. Quick boiling is a part of the business that requires particular attention, and great caution must be observed when the liquor begins to swell in waves in the copper. The furnace door must be opened, and the fire damped or regulated to suit the boiling of the wort. In order to ascertain the proper time for boiling the liquor, lade out some of it; and if a working be discovered, and the hops are sinking, the wort is boiled enough. Long and slow boiling injures and wastes the liquor. As soon as it is sufficiently boiled, run the liquor through a cloth or fine sieve into some coolers, to free it from the hops, and to get a proper quantity cooled immediately to set it to work. If the brewhouse be not sufficiently airy to cool a quantity soon, the liquor must be emptied into shallow tubs, and placed in a passage where there is a thorough draught of air, but where it is not exposed to rain or wet. The remainder in the copper may then be let into the first cooler, taking care to attend to the hops, and to make a clear passage through the strainer. The hops must be returned into the copper, after having run off four or five pailfuls of the liquor for the first cooling, and then it must be set to work in the following manner. Take four quarts of yeast, and divide half of it into small wooden bowls or basons, adding to it an equal quantity of wort nearly cold. As soon as it ferments to the top of the basons, put it into two pails; and when that works to the top, distribute it into two wide open tubs. Fill them half full with cool wort, and cover them over, till it comes to a fine white head. This will be accomplished in about three hours, and then both quantities may be put together into the working tub, with the addition of as much wort as is sufficiently cooled. If the weather be mild and open, it cannot be worked too cold. If the brewing be performed in frosty weather, the brewhouse must be kept warm; but hot wort must never be added to keep the liquor to a blood heat. Attention also must be paid to the quality of the yeast, or it may spoil all the beer. If it has been taken from foxed beer, or such as has been heated by ill management in the working, it will be likely to communicate the same bad quality. If the yeast be flat, and that which is fresh and lively cannot be procured, put to it a pint of warm sweetwort of the first letting off, when it is about half the degree of milk-warm. Shake the vessel that contains it, and it will soon gather strength, and be fit for use.--Tunning is the last and most simple operation in the business of brewing. The casks being well prepared, perfectly sweet and dry, and placed on the stand ready to receive the liquor, first skim off the top yeast, then fill the casks quite full, bung them down, and leave an aperture for the yeast to work through. If the casks stand on one end, the better way is to make a hole with a tap-borer near the summit of the stave, at the same distance from the top as the lower tap-hole is from the bottom. This prevents the slovenliness of working the beer over the head of the barrel; and the opening being much smaller than the bung-hole, the beer by being confined will sooner set itself into a convulsive motion, and work itself fine, provided proper attention be paid to filling up the casks five or six times a day.----Another method of brewing, rather more simple but not more excellent than the above, may be adopted by those whose conveniences are more limited. For table beer, allow three bushels of malt to thirty-nine gallons of water, and a pound and a half of hops. Pour a third part of the hot water upon the malt, cover it up warm half an hour, then stir up the mash, and let it stand two hours and a half more. Set it to drain off gently; when dry, add half the remaining water, mash, and let it stand half an hour. Run that into another tub, and pour the rest of the water on the malt; stir it well, cover it up, and let it infuse a full hour. Run that off and mix all together. Put the hops into a little hot water to open the pores, then put the hops and water into the tub, run the wort upon them, and boil them together for an hour. Strain the liquor through a coarse sieve, and set it to cool. If the whole be not cool enough that day to add to it the yeast, a pail or two of wort may be prepared, and a quart of yeast added to it over night. Before tunning, all the wort should be put together, and thoroughly mixed. When it has done working, paste a piece of paper on the bung-hole, and after three days it may be fastened close. In less than a month the beer will be fit for use. See ALE, MALT, BEER. BREWING UTENSILS. The most desirable object in the process of brewing is the fixing of the copper, so as to make the fire come directly under the bottom of it. Many coppers are injured, and rendered unserviceable, for want of proper attention to this particular. The method adopted by the most experienced bricklayers is to divide the heat of the fire by a stop; and if the door and the draft be in a direct line, the stop must be erected from the middle of each outline of the grating, and parallel with the centre sides of the copper. The stop is nothing more than a thin wall in the centre of the right and left sides of the copper, ascending half way to the top of it; on the top of which must be left a small cavity, four or five inches square, for a draft of that half part of the fire which is next to the copper door, to pass through, and then the building must close all round to the finishing at the top. By this method of fixing the copper, the heat will communicate from the outward part of the fire round the outward half of the copper through the cavity; as also will the furthest part of the fire, which contracts a conjunction of the whole, and causes the flame to slide gently and equally all round the bottom of the copper. Considerable advantages result from this position of the copper. If the draught under it were suffered at once to ascend, without being thus divided, the hops would be scorched in the boiling, and liable to stick to the sides, which would considerably injure the flavour of the liquor, unless kept continually stirring. It will also save the consumption of fuel, and preserve the copper much longer than any other method, as there will be no difficulty in boiling half a copper full at a time without doing it any injury.--The next article of consideration in this case is the Mash-tub. This should be proportioned to the size of the copper, and the quantity of beer intended to be brewed. The grains should not be kept in the tub any longer than the day after brewing, as in hot weather especially the grains begin to turn sour as soon as they are cold; and if there be any sour scent in the brewhouse at the time the liquor is tunned, it will be apt to injure the flavour of the beer.--Tubs and Coolers require to be kept perfectly sweet and clean, and should not be used for any other purpose. In small houses, where many vessels are cumbersome and inconvenient, it is too common to use the same tubs for both washing and brewing; but this ought not to be done where it can be avoided; and where it is unavoidable, the utmost care is necessary to give them a double washing, scouring, and scalding. Coolers also require considerable care, or by the slightest taint they will soon contract a disagreeable flavour. This often proceeds from wet having infused itself into the wood, it being apt to lodge in the crevices of old vessels, and even infect them to such a degree, that it cannot be removed, even after several washings and scaldings. One cause incidental to this evil is, using the brewhouse for the purposes of washing, which ought never to be permitted, where any other convenience can be had; for nothing can be more injurious than the remains of dirty suds, left in vessels intended for brewing only. Nor should water be suffered to stand too long in the coolers, as it will soak into them, and soon turn putrid, when the stench will enter the wood, and render them almost incurable. More beer is spoiled for want of attention to these niceties than can well be imagined, and the real cause is seldom known or suspected; but in some families, after all the care that is taken in the manufacture of the article, the beer is never palatable or wholesome.--Barrels should be well cleaned with boiling water; and if the bung-hole will admit, they should be scrubbed inside with a hard brush. If they have acquired a musty scent, take out the heads, and let them be well scrubbed with sand and fuller's earth. Then put in the head again, and scald it well; throw in a piece of unslaked lime, and close up the bung. When the cask has stood some time, rinse it well with cold water, and it will then be fit for use. New casks likewise require attention, for they are apt to give the liquor a bad taste, if they be not well scalded and seasoned several days successively before they are used; and old casks are apt to grow musty, if they stand any time out of use. To prevent this, a cork should be put into every one of them as soon as the cock or fosset is taken out; the vent and the bung-hole must also be well closed. The best way to season new casks is to boil two pecks of bran or malt dust in a copper of water, and pour it in hot; then stop it up close, and let it stand two days. When the cask is washed and dried, it will be fit for use. BREWING MACHINE. Where a family usually consume ten gallons of beer, or upwards, in a week, there is a Brewing Machine lately invented, which will be found singularly convenient and advantageous, and comparatively of little expense. The use of it in brewing curtails the labour, shortens the time in which the operation may be performed, greatly diminishes the quantity of fuel, and may be placed within very narrow limits, in the house of any tradesman in the most crowded city. Eighteen gallons of good beer may be brewed with this machine in the course of six hours, or a larger quantity with a machine of proportionate dimensions, in the same space of time. The process is so simple, that it may be comprehended by any person of ordinary capacity, and once seeing the operation performed will be sufficient. In the common mode of brewing, the principal difficulty consists in ascertaining the degrees of heat necessary to the production of good beer, without the use of a thermometer; but in the use of this machine, this difficulty is completely obviated.--The machine complete is represented by figure A; and B, C, D, E, F, represent its several parts. B is the bottom, made of strong sheet-iron, standing upon three legs. The hollow part of it contains the fire, put in at a door, the latch of which appears in front. The tube which projects upwards, is a stove pipe to carry off the smoke; and the circular pan that is seen between the legs, is a receptacle for the ashes or cinders that fall down through the grate above. C is a sheet-iron vessel, tinned on the inside, the bottom of which fits into the top of B; and the cock in C is to let off the wort, as will be seen hereafter. D is the lid of this vessel. E is made of sheet-iron, tinned inside and out, and full of holes to act as a strainer. It is to hold the malt first, and the hops afterwards; it goes into C, as may be seen in figure A. In the middle of E is a round space, F, made of the same metal, and rising up from the bottom, having itself no bottom. It has holes in it all the way up, like the outer surface of E.--In preparing for brewing, the machine is put together as in A, except placing on the lid. The first thing is to put the malt, coarsely ground, into E, and no part into F, or into the circular space between C and E; otherwise E cannot act as a strainer, when the liquor is drawn off; and in this consists its principal use. Having put in the malt, then add the water which of course flows into any part of the vessel C. Stir the malt well with a stick, or with something that will separate it completely, so that no adhesion may be formed by the flour of the malt. This is very apt to be the case in the common mode of brewing, when water is poured hot upon the malt; but here the water is applied in a cold state, so that there is little trouble in separating the malt completely in the water. If the small machine be used, which is adapted to a bushel of malt, and the beer is to be fully equal in strength to London porter, then eighteen gallons to the bushel may be considered as the general estimate; and for this purpose the first mash is to receive twelve gallons of cold soft water, which will produce nine gallons of wort. Having stirred the malt very carefully, light the fire under it, and get the liquor quickly to 170 or 180 degrees of heat. This may be ascertained by lifting off the lid, and dipping the thermometer from time to time into the centre F, and keeping it there a minute to give the quicksilver time to rise. While the mash is coming to this heat, stir the malt well three or four times. When the liquor has acquired its proper heat, put out the fire, and cover the whole of the machine with sacks, or something that will exclude the external air. In this state the mash remains for two hours: the cock is then turned, and nine gallons of wort will be drained off. Put the wort into a tub of some sort, and keep it warm. Then put into the machine twelve gallons more of water, rekindle the fire, and bring the heat to 170 degrees as soon as possible; when this is done, extinguish the fire, and let the mash now stand an hour. Draw off the second wort; and if only one sort of beer is wanted, add it to the first quantity. Now take out the grains, lift out E, clean it well, and also the inside of C. Replace E, put the hops into it, and the whole of the wort into the machine. Cover it with the lid, light the fire a third time, and bring the liquor to a boil as soon as possible. Let it boil a full hour with the lid off, and boil briskly all the time. The use of the centre F will now appear; for the machine being nearly full to the brim, the bubbling takes place in the centre F only, where there are no hops. There is a great boiling over in this centre, but the liquor sent up falls into E, and so there is no boiling over of C. When the full hour of brisk boiling has expired, put out the fire, draw off the liquor, leaving the hops of course in E. The liquor is now to go into shallow coolers; and when the heat is reduced to 70 degrees, take out about a gallon of the liquor, and mix it with half a pint of good yeast. Distribute it equally among the different parcels of wort, afterwards mix the whole together, and leave the liquor till it comes down to about sixty degrees of heat. The next removal is into the tun-tub, in which capacity C, without the addition of E, will serve very well. While the liquor is cooling, remove the spent hops from E, the stove pipe from B, the ash-receiver from the bottom. The machine remaining now as a tun-tub, draw off the liquor as soon as it is down to 60 degrees; or take it out of the coolers, pour it into the tun-tub, and put on the lid. If the weather be very cold, or the tun-tub be in a cold place, cover it with something to keep it warm. Here the fermentation takes place, sometimes sooner and sometimes later; but it generally shows itself by a head beginning to rise in about eight or ten hours; and at the end of eight and forty hours the head assumes a brownish appearance, and is covered with yeast instead of froth. The beer is then to be tunned into well-seasoned casks, sweet and sound, or all the expense and labour will be lost. The cask being fixed on the stand in the cellar, and the beer ready, skim off the yeast, and keep it in a deep earthen vessel. Draw off the beer into a pail, and with the help of a wooden funnel fill the cask quite full. The beer will now begin to ferment again, and must be allowed to discharge itself from the bung-hole. When the working has ceased, the cask is again filled up with the surplus beer; and a handful of fresh hops being added, the bung is finally closed down. If the whole process has been properly attended to, such a cask of beer will be clear in a week; and as soon as clear it may be tapped. Small beer may be tapped in less time. On a larger scale, or with casks of a smaller size, two sorts may be made, ale and small beer, taking the first wort for the former, and the second for the latter.--The advantages attending the Patent Machine are very obvious; for though the process appears to be minute, it is easily conducted, and but little time is required for the purpose. In the common method of brewing, the water must be carried from the copper to the mash-tub, while the machine serves for both purposes at once. With the common utensils the process is necessarily much slower, and the fuel consumed is nearly ten times as much; but the great convenience of all is the little room required and the place of brewing. In the common way there is wanted a copper fixed in brick-work, and for a family of any considerable size a brewhouse is indispensable. On the contrary, the machine is set up opposite any fire place, and the pipe enters the chimney, or is put into the fire place. There is no boiling over, no slopping about; and the operation may be performed upon a boarded floor, as well as upon a brick or stone floor. If there be no fire place in the room, the pipe can be projected through an opening in the window, or through the outside of any sort of building, not liable to suffer from the heat of the pipe. Even a garden walk, a court, or open field will answer the purpose, provided there be no rain, and the mash-tub be kept sufficiently warm. When the brewing is finished, the machine should be well scalded, rubbed dry, and kept in a dry place. The two coolers, G G, placed on different casks, have no necessary connection with the machine. They are made of wood or cast-iron, of a size to fit one within another to save room. The Patent Machine is sold by Messrs. Needham and Co. 202, Piccadilly, London. The price of one for brewing a bushel of malt is £8, for two bushels £13, for three £18, for four £24, for five £30, and for six £33. If the article be thought expensive, a few neighbouring families might unite in the purchase, and the money would very soon be more than saved in the economy of brewing. BRIDE CAKE. Mix together a pound of dried flour, two drams of powdered mace, and a quarter of a pound of powdered loaf sugar. Add a quarter of a pint of cream, and half a pound of melted butter; a quarter of a pint of yeast, five eggs, with half of the whites beaten up with the yolks, and a gill of rose water. Having warmed the butter and cream, mix them together, and set the whole to rise before the fire. Pick and clean half a pound of currants, put them in warm and well dried. BRIGHT BARS of polished stoves, may be restored to their proper lustre, by rubbing them well with some of the following mixture on a piece of broad-cloth. Boil slowly one pound of soft soap in two quarts of water, till reduced to one. Of this jelly take three or four spoonfuls, and mix it to a consistence with the addition of emery. When the black is removed, wipe them clean, and polish with glass, not sand-paper. BRISKET OF BEEF, if intended to be stewed, should have that part of it put into a stewpot which has the hard fat upon it, with a small quantity of water. Let it boil up, and skim it well; then add carrots, turnips, onions, celery, and a few pepper corns. Stew it till it is quite tender; then take out the fat bones, and remove all the fat from the soup. Either serve that and the meat in a tureen, or the soup alone, and the meat on a dish, garnished with vegetables. The following sauce with the beef, will be found to be very excellent.--Take half a pint of the soup, and mix it with a spoonful of ketchup, a glass of port wine, a tea-spoonful of made mustard, a little flour and salt, and a bit of butter. Boil all together a few minutes, and pour it round the meat. Chop capers, walnuts, red cabbage, pickled cucumbers, and chives or parsley, small, and place them in separate heaps over it. BROAD BEANS. Boil them tender, with a bunch of parsley, which must afterwards be chopped and put into melted butter, to serve with them. Bacon or pickled pork is usually boiled with the beans, but the meat will be of a better colour, if boiled separately. BROCOLI. To dress brocoli, cut the heads with short stalks, and pare off the tough skin. Tie the small shoots into bunches, and boil them a shorter time than the heads. A little salt should be put into the water. Serve them up with or without toast. BROILING. Cleanliness is extremely necessary in this mode of cookery; and for this purpose the gridiron, which is too frequently neglected, ought to be carefully attended to, keeping it perfectly clean between the bars, and bright on the top. When hot, wipe it well with a linen cloth; and before using it, rub the bars with mutton suet, to prevent the meat being marked by the gridiron. The bars should be made with a small gutter in them to carry off the gravy into a trough in front, to prevent the fat from dropping into the fire and making a smoke, which will spoil the flavour of the meat. Upright gridirons are therefore the best, as they can be set before the fire, without fear of smoke, and the gravy is preserved in the trough under them. A brisk and clear fire is also indispensable, that the bars of the gridiron may all be hot through before any thing be laid upon them, yet not so as to burn the meat, but to give it that colour and flavour which constitute the perfection of this mode of cooking. Never hasten any thing that is broiling, lest it be smoked and spoiled; but the moment it is done, send it up as hot as possible. BROILED COD. Cut the fish in thick slices, dry and flour it well; rub the gridiron with chalk, set it on a clear fire, and lay on the slices of cod. Keep them high from the fire, turn them often, till they are quite done, and of a fine brown. Take them up carefully without breaking, and serve with lobster or shrimp sauce. BROILED EELS. Skin and clean a large eel, cut it in pieces and broil it slowly over a good fire. Dust it well with dried parsley, and serve it up with melted butter. BROILED FOWL. Cut a large fowl into four quarters, put them on a bird-spit, and tie that on another spit, and half roast. Or half roast the whole fowl, and finish it on the gridiron, which will make it less dry than if wholly broiled. Another way is to split the fowl down the back, pepper, salt, and broil it, and serve with mushroom sauce. BROILED HERRINGS. Flour them first, broil them of a good colour, and serve with plain butter for sauce. BROILED PIGEONS. After cleaning, split the backs, pepper and salt them, and broil them very nicely. Pour over them either stewed or pickled mushrooms in melted butter, and serve them up as hot as possible. BROILED SALMON. Cut slices an inch thick, and season with pepper and salt. Lay each slice in half a sheet of white paper, well buttered; twist the ends of the paper, and broil the slices over a slow fire six or eight minutes. Serve them in the paper, with anchovy sauce. BROKEN CHINA. To repair any article of this description, beat some lime into the finest powder, and sift it through muslin. Tie some of it into a thin muslin, put on the edges of the broken china some white of an egg, and dust on a little lime as quickly as possible; but be careful to unite the broken parts very exactly. BROTH. A very nourishing kind of broth for weakly persons may be made as follows. Boil two pounds of loin of mutton, with a large handful of chervil, in two quarts of water, till reduced to one. Any other herb or roots may be added. Remove part of the fat, and take half a pint three or four times a day. If a broth is wanted to be made quickly, take a bone or two of a neck or loin of mutton, pare off the fat and the skin, set it on the fire in a small tin saucepan that has a cover, with three quarters of a pint of water, the meat being first beaten, and cut in thin bits. Put in a bit of thyme and parsley, and if approved, a slice of onion. Let it boil very quick, skim it nicely; take off the cover, if likely to be too weak; otherwise keep it covered. Half an hour is sufficient for the whole process. BROWN GRAVY. Cover the bottom of a stewpan with lean veal an inch thick, overlay it with slices of undressed gammon, two or three onions, two or three bay leaves, some sweet herbs, two blades of mace, and three cloves. Cover the stewpan, and set it over a slow fire; but when the juices come out, let the fire be a little quicker. When the meat is of a fine brown, fill the pan with good beef-broth, boil and skim it, then simmer it an hour. Add a little water, thickened with flour; boil it half an hour, and strain it. Gravy thus made will keep a week. BROWN BREAD ICE. Grate some brown bread as fine as possible, soak a small proportion in cream two or three hours, sweeten and ice it. BROWN BREAD PUDDING. Half a pound of stale brown bread grated, half a pound of currants, ditto of shred suet, sugar and nutmeg. Mix it up with four eggs, a spoonful of brandy, and twice as much cream. Boil it in a cloth or bason of proper size three or four hours. BROWNING. Powder four ounces of double-refined sugar, put it into a very nice iron fryingpan, with one ounce of fresh butter. Mix it well over a clear fire; and when it begins to froth, hold it up higher: when of a very fine dark brown, pour in a small quantity of a pint of port, and the whole by very slow degrees, stirring it all the time. Put to the above half an ounce of Jamaica, and the same of black pepper, six cloves of shalots peeled, three blades of mace bruised, three spoonfuls of mushroom and the same of walnut ketchup, some salt, and the finely-pared rind of a lemon. Boil gently fifteen minutes, pour it into a bason till cold, take off the scum, and bottle it for use. This article is intended to colour and flavour made-up dishes. BRUISES. When the contusion is slight, fomentations of warm vinegar and water, frequently applied, will generally relieve it. Cataplasms of fresh cow-dung applied to bruises, occasioned by violent blows or falls, will seldom fail to have a good effect. Nothing however is more certainly efficacious than a porter plaster immediately applied to the part affected. Boil some porter in an earthen vessel over a slow fire till it be well thickened; and when cold spread it on a piece of leather to form the intended plaster. BUBBLE AND SQUEAK. Boil, chop and fry some cabbage, with a little butter, pepper and salt. Lay on it slices of underdone beef, lightly fried. BUGS. Dip a sponge or brush into a strong solution of vitriol, and rub it on the bedstead, or in the places where these vermin harbour, and it will destroy both them and their nits. If the bugs appear after once using it, the application must be repeated, and some of the liquid poured into the joints and holes of the bedstead and headboard. Beds that have much woodwork require to be taken down and well examined, before they can be thoroughly cleared of these vermin, and the mixture should be rubbed into all the joints and crevices with a painter's brush. It should also be applied to the walls of the room to insure success; and if mixed with a little lime, it will produce a lively yellow. The boiling of any kind of woodwork or household furniture in an iron cauldron, with a solution of vitriol, will prevent the breeding of bugs, and preserve it from rottenness and decay. Sulphur made into a paste, or arsenic dissolved in water, and applied in the same manner, will also be found an effectual remedy for the bugs. But if these do not completely succeed, take half a pint of the highest rectified spirits of wine, and half a pint of spirits of turpentine; dissolve in this mixture half an ounce of camphor, and shake them well together. Dust the bed or the furniture, dip a sponge or brush into the mixture, wet them all over, and pour some of the liquid into the holes and crevices. If any should afterwards appear, wet the lacings of the bed, the foldings of the curtains near the rings, and other parts where it is at all likely the bugs may nestle and breed, and it will not fail to destroy them. The smell of this mixture is not unwholesome, and may be applied to the finest damask bed without any fear of soiling it. It should be well shaked together, but never used by candle-light, for fear of its taking fire. BULLACE CHEESE. To every quart of full ripe bullace, add a quarter of a pound of loaf sugar finely powdered. Put them into a pot, and bake them in a moderate oven till they are soft. Rub them through a hair sieve; to every pound of pulp add half a pound of loaf sugar powdered, and in the meantime keep it stirring. Pour the pulp into preserving pots, tie brandy paper over; and keep them in a dry place. When it has stood a few months, it will cut out very bright and fine. BUNS. To make a good plain bun, that may be eaten with or without toasting and butter, rub four ounces of butter into two pounds of flour, four ounces of sugar, a nutmeg, a few Jamaica peppers, and a dessert-spoonful of caraways. Put a spoonful or two of cream into a cup of yeast, and as much good milk as will make the above into a light paste. Set it to rise by the fire till the oven be ready, and bake the buns quickly on tins.--To make some of a richer sort, mix one pound and a half of dried flour with half a pound of sugar. Melt eighteen ounces of butter in a little warm water, add six spoonfuls of rose-water, and knead the above into a light dough, with half a pint of yeast. Then mix in five ounces of caraway comfits, and put some on them. BURNS. In slight cases, the juice of onions, a little ink or brandy rubbed immediately on the part affected, will prevent blisters. The juice of burdock, mixed with an equal quantity of olive oil, will make a good ointment for the purpose, and the fresh leaves of that plant may also be applied as a kind of plaster. Houseleek used by itself, or mixed with cream, will afford quick relief in external inflammations. A little spirit of turpentine, or linseed oil, mixed with lime water, if kept constantly to the part will remove the pain. But warm vinegar and water, frequently applied with a woollen cloth, is most to be depended on in these cases. BURNT CREAM. Boil a pint of cream with a stick of cinnamon, and some lemon peel. Take it off the fire, and pour it very slowly into the yolks of four eggs, stirring it till half cold. Sweeten it, take out the spice, and pour it into a dish. When cold, strew over it some white pounded sugar, and brown it with a salamander. Or, make a rich custard without sugar, and boil in it some lemon peel. When cold, sift over it plenty of white sugar, and brown the top with a salamander. BUTTER. No one article of family consumption is of greater consequence than butter of a superior quality, and no one requires more care and management. It possesses various degrees of goodness, according to the food on which the cows are pastured, and the manner in which the dairy is conducted; but its sweetness is not affected by the cream being turned, of which it is made. When cows are in turnips, or eat cabbages, the taste is strong and disagreeable; and to remedy this, the following methods have been tried with advantage. When the milk is strained into the pans, put to every six gallons one gallon of boiling water. Or dissolve one ounce of nitre in a pint of spring water, and put a quarter of a pint to every fifteen gallons of milk. Or, in churning, keep back a quarter of a pint of sour cream, and put it into a well-scalded pot, into which the next cream is to be gathered. Stir that well, and do so with every fresh addition.--TO MAKE BUTTER, skim the milk in the summer, when the sun has not heated the dairy. At that season it should stand for butter twenty-four hours without skimming, and forty-eight in winter. Deposit the cream-pot in a very cold cellar, unless the dairy itself is sufficiently cold. If you cannot churn daily, shift the cream into scalded fresh pots; but never omit churning twice a week. If possible, place the churn in a thorough air; and if not a barrel one, set it in a tub of water two feet deep, which will give firmness to the butter. When the butter is come, pour off the buttermilk, and put the butter into a fresh scalded pan, or tubs, which have afterwards been in cold water. Pour water on it, and let it lie to acquire some hardness before it is worked; then change the water, and beat it with flat boards so perfectly, that not the least taste of buttermilk remain, and that the water which must be often changed, shall be quite clear. Then work some salt into it, weigh, and make it into forms; throw them into cold water, in an earthen pan with a cover. Nice cool butter will then be had in the hottest weather. It requires more working in hot than in cold weather; but care should be taken at all times not to leave a particle of buttermilk, or a sour taste, as is too often done.--TO PRESERVE BUTTER, take two parts of the best common salt, one part of fine loaf-sugar, and one of saltpetre; beat them well together. To sixteen ounces of butter, thoroughly cleansed from the milk, add one ounce of this mixture: work it well, and pot down the butter when it becomes firm and cold. Butter thus preserved is the better for keeping, and should not be used under a month. This article should be kept from the air, and is best in pots of well-glazed ware, that will hold from ten to fourteen pounds each. Put some salt on the top; and when that is turned to brine, if not enough to cover the butter entirely, add some strong salt and water. It then requires only to be covered from the dust, and will be good for winter use.--IN PURCHASING BUTTER at market, recollect that if fresh, it ought to smell like a nosegay, and be of an equal colour throughout. If sour in smell, it has not been sufficiently washed: if veiny and open, it is probably mixed with stale butter, or some of an inferior quality. To ascertain the quality of salt butter, put a knife into it, and smell it when drawn out: if there is any thing rancid or unpleasant, the butter is bad. Salt butter being made at different times, the layers in casks will greatly vary; and it is not easy to ascertain its quality, except by unhooping the cask, and trying it between the staves. BUTTER DISH. Roll butter in different forms, like a cake or a pine, and mark it with a tea-spoon. Or roll it in crimping rollers, work it through a cullender, or scoop it with a tea-spoon; mix it with grated beef, tongue, or anchovies. Garnish with a wreath of curled parsley, and it will serve as a little dish. BUTTERMILK, if made of sweet cream, is a delicious and very wholesome article of food. Those who can relish sour buttermilk, will find it still more light, and it is reckoned very beneficial in consumptive cases. If not very sour, it is also as good as cream to eat with fruit; but it should be sweetened with white sugar, and mixed with a very little milk. It does equally well for cakes and rice puddings, and of course it is economical to churn before the cream is too stale for any thing but to feed pigs.--The celebrated Dr. Boerhaäve recommended the frequent use of sweet buttermilk in all consumptive cases, and that it should form the whole of the patient's drink, while biscuits and rusks, with ripe and dried fruits of various kinds, should chiefly be depended on as articles of food. For this purpose take the milk from the cow into a small churn; in about ten minutes begin churning, and continue till the flakes of butter swim about pretty thick, and the milk is discharged of all the oily particles, and appears thin and blue. Strain it through a sieve, and let the patient drink it as frequently as possible. BUTTERMILK PUDDING. Warm three quarts of new milk, turn it with a quart of buttermilk, and drain the curd through a sieve. When dry pound in a marble mortar, with nearly half a pound of sugar, a lemon boiled tender, the crumb of a roll grated, a nutmeg grated, six bitter almonds, four ounces of warm butter, a tea-cupful of good cream, the yolks of five and whites of three eggs, a glass of sweet wine and a glass of brandy. When well incorporated, bake in small cups or bowls well buttered. If the bottom be not brown, use a salamander; but serve as quick as possible, and with pudding sauce. BUTTERED CRABS. Pick out the inside when boiled, beat it up in a little gravy, with wine, pepper, salt, nutmeg, a few crumbs of bread, a piece of butter rolled in a little flour, and some vinegar or lemon juice. Serve it up hot. BUTTERED EGGS. Beat four or five eggs, yolk and white together; put a quarter of a pound of butter in a bason, and then put that into boiling water. Stir it till melted, then put that butter and the eggs into a saucepan; keep a bason in your hand, just hold the saucepan in the other over a slow part of the fire, shaking it one way, as it begins to warm. Pour it into the bason and back again, then hold it over the fire, stirring it constantly in the saucepan, and pouring it into the bason, more perfectly to mix the egg and butter, until they shall be hot without boiling. Serve on toasted bread, or in a bason, to eat with salt fish or red herrings. BUTTERED LOAF. Take three quarts of new milk, and add as much rennet as is sufficient to turn it; then break the curd, and drain off all the whey through a clean cloth. Pound it in a stone mortar, add the white of one and the yolks of six eggs, a good handful of grated bread, half as much of fine flour, and a little salt. Mix them well together with the hand, divide the whole into four round loaves, and place them upon white paper. After they are well buttered, varnish them all over with a feather, dipped in the yolk of an egg stirred up with a little beer. Set the loaves in a quick oven three quarters of an hour; while baking, take half a pound of new butter, add to it four spoonfuls of water, half a nutmeg grated, and sugar sufficient to sweeten it. Stir them together over the fire till they boil; when sufficiently thickened, draw the loaves from the oven, open their tops, pour in the butter and sugar, and send them up with sugar strewed over them. BUTTERED LOBSTERS. Pick out the meat, cut and warm it, with a little weak brown gravy, nutmeg, salt, pepper, butter, and a little flour. If done white, a little white gravy and cream. BUTTERED ORANGES. Grate off a little of the outside rind of four Seville oranges, and cut a round hole at the blunt end opposite the stalk, large enough to take out the pulp and seeds and juice. Then pick the seeds and skin from the pulp, rub the oranges with a little salt, and lay them in water for a short time. The bits cut out are to be saved. Boil the fruit in fresh water till they are tender, shifting the water to take out the bitterness. In the meantime make a thin syrup with fine sugar, put the oranges into it, and boil them up. As the quantity of syrup need not be enough to cover them, turn them round, that each part may partake of the syrup, and let them remain in it hot till they are wanted. About half an hour before serving, put some sugar to the pulp, and set it over the fire; mix it well, and let it boil. Then add a spoonful of white wine for every orange, give it a boil, put in a bit of fresh butter, and stir it over the fire to thicken. Fill the oranges with it, and serve them with some of the syrup in the dish, with the bits on the top. BUTTERED ORANGE-JUICE. Mix the juice of seven Seville oranges with four spoonfuls of rose-water, and add the yolks of eight and the whites of four eggs well beaten. Strain the liquor on half a pound of sugar pounded, stir it over a gentle fire; and when it begins to thicken, add a piece of butter the size of a small walnut. Keep it over the fire a few minutes longer, then pour it into a flat dish, and serve it to eat cold. If no silver saucepan for the purpose, do it in a china bason in a saucepan of boiling water, the top of which will just receive the bason. BUTTERED PRAWNS. Take them out of the husk; warm them with a little good gravy, a bit of butter and flour, a taste of nutmeg, pepper and salt. Simmer them together a minute or two, and serve with sippets; or with cream sauce, instead of brown. Shrimps are done in the same manner. BUTTERED RICE. Wash and pick some rice, drain, and set it on the fire, with new milk sufficient to make it swell. When tender, pour off the milk, and add a bit of butter, a little sugar and pounded cinnamon. Shake and keep it from burning on the fire, and serve it up as a sweet dish. C. CABBAGE. Wash and pick it carefully, and if very large, quarter it. Put it into a saucepan with plenty of boiling-water, and a large spoonful of salt; if any scum rises, take it off, and boil it till the stalk is tender. Keep the vegetable well covered with water all the time of boiling, and see that no smoke or dirt arises from stirring the fire. With careful management the cabbage will look as beautiful when dressed, as it did when growing. The flavour of an old cabbage may be much improved, by taking it up when half done, and putting it directly into another saucepan of fresh boiling water. When taken up, drain it in a cullender. It may be chopped and warmed with a piece of butter, pepper and salt, or sent to table whole with melted butter. Savoys and greens in general are dressed in the same way. CAKES. In making and baking cakes the following particulars should be attended to. The currants should be nicely picked and washed, dried in a cloth, and set before the fire. If damp, they will make cakes or puddings heavy. Before they are added, a dust of dry flour should be scattered among them, and then shaken together, which will make the cake or pudding lighter. Eggs should be beaten a long time, whites and yolks apart, and always strained. Sugar should be rubbed to a powder on a clean board, and sifted through a fine hair or lawn sieve. Lemon peel requires to be pared very thin, and with a little sugar beaten to a paste in a marble mortar. It should then be mixed with a little wine or cream, so as to divide easily among the other ingredients. After all the articles are put into the pan, they should be long and thoroughly beaten, as the lightness of the cake depends much on their being well incorporated. Both black and white plumb cakes, being made with yeast, require less butter and eggs, and eat equally light and rich. If the leaven be only of flour, milk and water, and yeast, it becomes more tough, and is less easily divided, than if the butter be first put with those ingredients, and the dough afterwards set to rise by the fire. The heat of the oven is of great importance for cakes, especially large ones. If not pretty quick, the batter will not rise; and if too quick, put some white paper over the cake to prevent its being burnt. If not long enough lighted to have a body of heat, or it is become slack, the cake will be heavy. To know when it is soaked, take a broad-bladed knife that is very bright, and thrust it into the centre; draw it out instantly, and if the paste in any degree adheres, return the cake to the oven, and close it up. If the heat is sufficient to raise but not to soak the baking, a little fresh fuel should be introduced, after taking out the cakes and keeping them hot, and then returning them to the oven as quickly as possible. Particular care however should be taken to prevent this inconvenience, when large cakes are to be baked. CAKE TRIFLE. Bake a rice cake in a mould; and when cold, cut it round with a sharp knife, about two inches from the edge, taking care not to perforate the bottom. Put in a thick custard, and some spoonfuls of raspberry jam; and then put on a high whip. CALF'S FEET BROTH. Boil two feet in three quarts of water till reduced to half the quantity; strain it, and set it by. When to be used, take off the fat, put a large tea-cupful of the jelly into a saucepan, with half a glass of sweet wine, a little sugar and nutmeg, and heat it up till it be ready to boil. Then take a little of it, and beat it by degrees to the yolk of an egg, adding a bit of butter the size of a nutmeg; stir it all together, but do not let it boil. Grate a little fresh lemon peel into it.--Another way is to boil two calves' feet with two ounces of veal, and two of beef, the bottom of a penny loaf, two or three blades of mace, half a nutmeg, and a little salt, in three quarts of water, till reduced to half the quantity. Then strain it, and take off the fat. CALF'S FEET JELLY. Boil two feet, well cleaned, in five pints of water till they are broken, and the water half wasted. Strain it, take off the fat when cold, and remove the jelly from the sediment. Put it into a saucepan, with sugar, raisin wine, lemon juice and lemon peel. When the flavour is rich, add the whites of five eggs well beaten, and their shells broken. Set the saucepan on the fire, but do not stir the jelly after it begins to warm. Let it boil twenty minutes after it rises to a head, then pour it through a flannel bag, first dipping the jelly bag in hot water to prevent waste, and squeezing it quite dry. Run the jelly repeatedly through the bag, until it is quite clear, and then put it into glasses or forms. The following method will greatly facilitate the clearing of the jelly. When the mixture has boiled twenty minutes, throw in a tea-cupful of cold water; let it boil five minutes longer, then take the saucepan off the fire covered close, and keep it half an hour. It will afterwards be so clear as to need only once running through the bag, and much waste will be prevented.--Another way to make jelly is to take three calf's feet, or two cow-heels, that have been only scalded, and boil them in four quarts of water, till it be half wasted. Remove the jelly from the fat and sediment, mix with it the juice of a Seville orange and twelve lemons, the peels of three ditto, the whites and shells of twelve eggs, brown sugar to taste, nearly a pint of raisin wine, one ounce of coriander seed, a quarter of an ounce of allspice, a bit of cinnamon, and six cloves, all bruised and previously mixed together. The jelly should boil fifteen minutes without stirring, and then be cleared through a flannel bag. Take a little of the jelly while running, mix it with a tea-cupful of water in which a piece of beet root has been boiled, and run it through the bag when all the rest is run out. The other jelly being cooled on a plate, this will serve to garnish it. Jelly made in this way will have a fine high colour and flavour. But in all cases, to produce good jelly, the feet should only be scalded to take off the hair. Those who sell them ready prepared generally boil them too long, and they become in consequence less nutricious. If scalded only, the liquor will require greater care in removing the fat; but the jelly will be far stronger, and of course allow more water. Jelly is equally good if made of cow-heels nicely cleaned, and will be much stronger than what is made from calf's feet. CALF'S FEET PUDDING. Boil four feet quite tender, pick off the meat, and chop it fine. Add some grated bread, a pound of chopped suet, half a pint of milk, six eggs, a pound of currants, four ounces of citron, two ounces of candied peel, a grated nutmeg, and a glass of brandy. Butter the cloth and flour it, tie it close, and boil it three hours. CALF'S HEAD BOILED. Clean it carefully and soak it in water, that it may look very nice, and take out the brains for sauce. Wash them well, tie them up in a cloth, with a little sage and parsley; put them into the pot at the same time with the head, and scum the water while boiling. A large head will take two hours, and when the part which joined the neck becomes tender it is done. Take up the brains and chop them with the sage and parsley, and an egg boiled hard. Put them into a saucepan with a bit of butter, pepper and salt, and warm them up. Peel the tongue, lay it in the middle of the dish, with the brain sauce round it. Strew over the head some grated bread and chopped parsley, and brown it by the fire in a separate dish, adding bacon, pickled pork, and greens. CALF'S HEAD COLLARED. Scald the skin off a fine head, clean it nicely, and take out the brains. Boil it tender enough to remove the bones, and season it high with mace, nutmeg, salt, and white pepper. Put a layer of chopped parsley, then a quantity of thick slices of fine ham, or a beautiful coloured tongue skinned, and then the yolks of six nice yellow eggs stuck here and there about. Roll the head quite close, and tie it up tight, placing a cloth under the tape, as for other collars. Boil it, and then lay a weight upon it. CALF'S HEAD FRICASSEED. Clean and half-boil part of a head; cut the meat into small bits, and put it into a tosser, with a little gravy made of the bones, some of the water it was boiled in, a bunch of sweet herbs, an onion, and a blade of mace. The cockscombs of young cockrels may be boiled tender, and then blanched, or a sweetbread will do as well. Season the gravy with a little pepper, nutmeg, and salt. Rub down some flour and butter, and give all a boil together. Then take out herbs and onion, and add a small cup of cream, but do not boil it in. Serve with small bits of bacon rolled up and forcemeat balls. CALF'S HEAD HASHED. When half boiled, cut off the meat in slices, half an inch thick, and two or three inches long. Brown some butter, flour, and sliced onion; and throw in the slices with some good gravy, truffles and morels. Give it one boil, skim it well and set it in a moderate heat to simmer till very tender. Season at first with pepper, salt, and cayenne; and ten minutes before serving, throw in some shred parsley, and a very small bit of taragon and knotted marjoram cut as fine as possible. Send it up with forcemeat balls, and bits of bacon rolled round, adding the squeeze of a lemon.--Another way is to boil the head almost enough, and take the meat of the best side neatly off the bone with a sharp knife. Lay this into a small dish, wash it over with the yolks of two eggs, and cover it with crumbs, a few herbs nicely shred, a little pepper, salt, and grated nutmeg all mixed together first. Set the dish before the fire, and turn it now and then, that all parts of the head may be equally brown. In the mean time slice the remainder of the head, peel the tongue and slice it. Put a pint of good gravy into a pan with an onion, and a small bunch of herbs, consisting of parsley, basil, savoury, taragon, knotted marjoram, and a little thyme. Add a small quantity of salt and cayenne, a few truffles and morels, and two spoonfuls of ketchup. Then beat up half the brains, put it to the rest with a little butter and flour, and simmer the whole together. Beat the other part of the brains with shred lemon peel, a little nutmeg and mace, some shred parsley and an egg. Then fry it in small cakes of a beautiful yellow brown. Dip some oysters into the yolk of an egg, and do the same; and also some relishing forcemeat balls, made as for mock turtle. Garnish with these, and small bits of bacon just made hot before the fire. CALF'S HEAD PIE. Stew a knuckle of veal till fit for eating, with two onions, a few isinglass shavings, a bunch of herbs, a blade of mace, and a few peppercorns, in three pints of water. Keep the broth for the pie. Take off a bit of the meat for the balls, and let the other be eaten; but simmer the bones in the broth till it is very good. Half boil the head, and cut it into square bits; put a layer of ham at the bottom, then some head, first fat and then lean, with balls and hard eggs cut in half, and so on till the dish be full; but great care must be taken not to place the pieces close, or the pie will be too solid, and there will be no space for the jelly. The meat must be first seasoned pretty well with pepper and salt, and a scrape or two of nutmeg. Put a little water and gravy into the dish, cover it with a tolerably thick crust, and bake it in a slow oven. When done, fill it up with gravy, and do not cut it till quite cold. Use a very sharp knife for this purpose, first cutting out a large piece, and going down to the bottom of the dish: thinner slices may afterwards be cut. The different colours, and the clear jelly, will have a beautiful marbled appearance. A small pie may be made to eat hot, and will have a good appearance, if seasoned high with oysters, mushrooms, truffles and morels. The cold pie will keep several days, and slices of it will make a handsome side-dish. If the isinglass jelly be not found stiff enough, a calf's foot or a cow heel may be used instead. To vary the colour, pickled tongue may be cut in, instead of ham. CALF'S HEAD ROASTED. Wash the head perfectly clean, stew it with oysters, tie it together and spit it, baste it well with butter and flour rubbed smooth. Stew together some of the oyster liquor, gravy, butter and salt, with a few sprigs of marjoram and savoury, adding a little claret, and pour the sauce over the dish. CALF'S HEAD SOUP. After the head has been thoroughly cleaned, put it into a stewpan with a proper quantity of water, an onion, some sweet herbs, mace and cloves, and a little pearl barley. Boil it quite tender, put in some stewed celery, and season it with pepper. Pour the soup into a dish, place the head in the middle, and send it hot to table. CALF'S HEAD STEWED. Wash and soak it for an hour, bone it, take out the brains, the tongue and the eyes. Make a forcemeat with two pounds of beef suet, as much lean veal, two anchovies boned and washed, the peel of a lemon, some grated nutmeg, and a little thyme. Chop them up together with some grated bread, and mix in the yolks of four eggs. Make part of this forcemeat into fifteen or twenty balls; boil five eggs hard, some oysters washed clean, and half a pint of fresh mushrooms, and mix with the rest of the forcemeat. Stuff that part of the head where the bones were taken out, tie it up carefully with packthread, put it into two quarts of gravy or good broth, with a blade of mace, cover it close, and stew it very slowly for two hours. While the head is doing, beat up the brains with some lemon-thyme and parsley chopped very fine, some grated nutmeg, and the yolk of an egg mixed with it. Fry half the brains in dripping, in little cakes, and fry the balls. When the head is done, keep it warm with the brain-cakes and balls; strain off the liquor in which the head was stewed, add to it some stewed truffles and morels, and a few pickled mushrooms. Put in the other half of the brains chopped, boil them up together, and let them simmer a few minutes. Lay the head into a hot dish, pour the liquor over it, and place the balls and the brain-cakes round it. For a small family, half the head will be sufficient. A lamb's head may be done in the same way. CALF'S HEART. Chop fine some suet, parsley, sweet marjoram and a boiled egg. Add some grated bread, lemon peel, pepper, salt and mustard. Mix them together in a paste, and stuff the heart with it, after it has been well washed and cleaned. If done carefully, it is better baked than roasted. Serve it up quite hot, with gravy and melted butter. CALF'S KIDNEY. Chop veal kidney, and some of the fat; likewise a little leek or onion, pepper, and salt. Roll the kidney up with an egg into balls, and fry it.--A calf's heart should be stuffed and roasted as a beef's heart; or sliced and made into a pudding, the same as for a steak or kidney pudding. CALF'S LIVER. There are several ways of making this into a good dish. One is to broil it, after it has been seasoned with pepper and salt. Then rub a bit of cold butter over, and serve it up hot and hot.--If the liver is to be roasted, first wash and wipe it, then cut a long hole in it, and stuff it with crumbs of bread, chopped anchovy, herbs, fat bacon, onion, salt, pepper, a bit of butter, and an egg. Sew up the liver, lard or wrap it in a veal caul, and put it to the fire. Serve it with good brown gravy, and currant jelly.--If the liver and lights are to be dressed together, half boil an equal quantity of each; then cut them in a middling-sized mince, add a spoonful or two of the water that boiled it, a bit of butter, flour, salt and pepper. Simmer them together ten minutes, and serve the dish up hot. CALF'S SWEETBREADS. These should be half boiled, and then stewed in white gravy. Add cream, flour, butter, nutmeg, salt, and white pepper. Or do them in brown sauce seasoned. Or parboil, and then cover them with crumbs, herbs, and seasoning, and brown them in a Dutch oven. Serve with butter, and mushroom ketchup, or gravy. CALVES. The general method of rearing calves consumes so much of the milk of the dairy, that it is highly necessary to adopt other means, or the calves must be sold to the butcher while they are young. A composition called linseed milk, made of linseed oil-cake powdered, and gradually mixed with skim-milk sweetened with treacle, has been tried with considerable effect. It must be made nearly as warm as new milk when taken from the cow. Hay tea mixed with linseed and boiled to a jelly, has likewise been tried with success. A species of water gruel, made in the following manner, is strongly recommended. Put a handful or two of oatmeal into some boiling water, and after it has thickened a little, leave it to cool till it is lukewarm; mix with it two or three pints of skim-milk, and give it to the calf to drink. At first it may be necessary to make the calf drink by presenting the fingers to it; but it will soon learn to drink of itself, and will grow much faster than by any other method. According to the old custom, a calf intended to be reared is allowed to suck for six or eight weeks; and if the cow give only a moderate quantity of milk, the value of it will amount to the price of the calf in half that time. By the method now recommended, only a little oatmeal or ground barley is consumed, and a small quantity of skim-milk. The calf is also more healthy and strong, and less subject to disease. Small whisps of hay should be placed round them on cleft sticks, to induce the calves to eat; and when they are weaned, they should be turned into short sweet grass; for if hay and water only are used, they are liable to swellings and the rot. The fatting of calves being an object of great importance, a greater variety of food is now provided for this purpose than formerly, and great improvements have been made in this part of rural economy. Grains, potatoes, malt dust, pollard, and turnips now constitute their common aliment. But in order to make them fine and fat, they must be kept as clean as possible, with fresh litter every day. Bleeding them twice before they are slaughtered, improves the beauty and whiteness of the flesh, but it may be doubted whether the meat is equally good and nutricious. If calves be taken with the scouring, which often happens in a few days after being cast, make a medicine of powdered chalk and wheat meal, wrought into a ball with some gin; and it will afford relief. The shoote is another distemper to which they are liable, and is attended with a violent cholic and the loathing of food. The general remedy in this case is milk, well mulled with eggs; or eggs and flour mixed with oil, melted butter, linseed or anniseed. To prevent the sickness which commonly attends calves about Michaelmas time, take newly-churned butter, without salt, and form it into a cup the size of an egg; into this cup put three or four cloves of bruised garlic, and fill it up with tar. Having put the cup down the calf's throat, pour into its nostrils half a spoonful of the spirit of turpentine, rub a little tar upon its nose, and keep it within doors for an hour. Calves ought to be housed a night before this medicine is given. CALICO FURNITURE. When curtains or bed furniture of this description are to be taken down for the summer, shake off the loose dust, and lightly brush them with a small long-haired furniture brush. Wipe them afterwards very closely with clean flannels, and rub them with dry bread. If properly done, the curtains will look nearly as well as at first, and if the colour be not very light, they will not require washing for years. Fold them up in large parcels, and put them by carefully. While the furniture remains up, it should be preserved as much as possible from the sun and air, which injure delicate colours; and the dust may be blown off with bellows. Curtains may thus be kept clean, even to use with the linings after they have been washed or newly dipped. CAMP VINEGAR. Slice a large head of garlic, and put it into a wide-mouthed bottle, with half an ounce of cayenne, two tea-spoonfuls of soy, two of walnut ketchup, four anchovies chopped, a pint of vinegar, and enough cochineal to give it the colour of lavender drops. Let it stand six weeks; then strain it off quite clear, and keep it in small bottles sealed up. CAMPHOR JULEP. Dissolve a quarter of an ounce of camphor in half a pint of brandy. It may thus be kept fit for use; and a tea-spoonful taken in a wine glass of cold water will be found an agreeable dose.--Another way. To a quarter of an ounce of camphor, add a quart of boiling water, and a quart of cold. Let it stand six hours, and strain it off for use. CAMPHOR OINTMENT. Put half an ounce of camphor into an ounce of the oil of almonds, mixed with an ounce of spermaceti. Scrape fine into it half an ounce of white wax, and melt it over some hot water. CAMPHORATED OIL. Beat an ounce of camphor in a mortar, with two ounces of Florence oil, till the camphor is entirely dissolved. This liniment is highly useful in rheumatism, spasms, and other cases of extreme pain. CANARIES. Those who wish to breed this species of birds, should provide them a large cage, with two boxes to build in. Early in April put a cock and hen together; and whilst they are pairing, feed them with soft meat, or a little grated bread, scalded rapeseed and an egg mixed together. At the same time a small net of fine hay, wool, cotton, and hair should be suspended in one corner of the cage, so that the birds may pull it out as they want it to build with. Tame canaries will sometimes breed three or four times in a year, and produce their young about a fortnight after they begin to sit. When hatched, they should be left to the care of the old ones, to nurse them up till they can fly and feed themselves; during which time they should be supplied with fresh victuals every day, accompanied now and then with cabbage, lettuce, and chick-weed with seeds upon it. When the young canaries can feed themselves, they should be taken from the old ones, and put into another cage. Boil a little rapeseed, bruise and mix it with as much grated bread, mace seed, and the yolk of an egg boiled hard; and supply them with a small quantity every day, that it may not become stale or sour. Besides this, give them a little scalded rapeseed, and a little rape and canary seed by itself. This diet may be continued till they have done moulting, or renewed at any time when they appear unhealthy, and afterwards they may be fed in the usual manner. CANCER. It is asserted by a French practitioner, that this cruel disorder may be cured in three days, by the following simple application, without any surgical operation whatever. Knead a piece of dough about the size of a pullet's egg, with the same quantity of hog's lard, the older the better; and when they are thoroughly blended, so as to form a kind of salve, spread it on a piece of white leather, and apply it to the part affected. This, if it do no good, is perfectly harmless.--A plaster for an eating cancer may be made as follows. File up some old brass, and mix a spoonful of it with mutton suet. Lay the plaster on the cancer, and let it remain till the cure is effected. Several persons have derived great benefit from this application, and it has seldom been known to fail. CANDIED ANGELICA. Cut angelica into pieces three inches long, boil it tender, peel and boil it again till it is green; dry it in a cloth, and add its weight in sugar. Sift some fine sugar over, and let them remain in a pan two days; then boil the stalks clear and green, and let them drain in a cullender. Beat another pound of sugar and strew over them, lay them on plates, and dry them well in an oven. CANDIED FRUIT. Take the preserve out of the syrup, lay it into a new sieve, and dip it suddenly into hot water, to take off the syrup that hangs about it. Put it on a napkin before the fire to drain, and then do another layer in the sieve. Sift the fruit all over with double refined sugar previously prepared, till it is quite white. Set it on the shallow end of sieves in a lightly-warm oven, and turn it two or three times: it must not be cold till dry. Watch it carefully, and it will be beautiful. CANDIED PEEL. Take out the pulps of lemons or oranges, soak the rinds six days in salt and water, and afterwards boil them tender in spring water. Drain them on a sieve, make a thin syrup of loaf sugar and water, and boil the peels in it till the syrup begins to candy about them. Then take out the peels, grate fine sugar over them, drain them on a sieve, and dry them before the fire. CANDLES. Those made in cold weather are best; and if put in a cool place, they will improve by keeping; but when they begin to sweat and turn rancid, the tallow loses its strength, and the candles are spoiled. A stock for winter use should be provided in autumn, and for summer, early in the spring. The best candle-wicks are made of fine cotton; the coarser yarn consumes faster, and burns less steady. Mould candles burn the clearest, but dips afford the best light, their wicks being proportionally larger. CAPER SAUCE. Add a table-spoonful of capers to twice the quantity of vinegar, mince one third of the capers very fine, and divide the others in half. Put them into a quarter of a pint of melted butter, or good thickened gravy, and stir them the same way as the melted butter, to prevent their oiling. The juice of half a Seville orange or lemon may be added. An excellent substitute for capers may be made of pickled green peas, nastursions, or gherkins, chopped into a similar size, and boiled with melted butter. When capers are kept for use, they should be covered with fresh scalded vinegar, tied down close to exclude the air, and to make them soft. CAPILLAIRE. Take fourteen pounds of good moist sugar, three of coarse sugar, and six eggs beaten in well with the shells, boil them together in three quarts of water, and skim it carefully. Then add a quarter of a pint of orange-flower water, strain it off, and put it into bottles. When cold, mix a spoonful or two of this syrup in a little warm or cold water. CARACHEE. Mix with a pint of vinegar, two table-spoonfuls of Indian soy, two of walnut pickle, two cloves of garlic, one tea-spoonful of cayenne, one of lemon pickle, and two of sauce royal. CARMEL COVER. Dissolve eight ounces of double refined sugar in three or four spoonfuls of water, and as many drops of lemon juice. Put it into a copper skillet; when it begins to thicken, dip the handle of a spoon in it, and put that into a pint bason of water. Squeeze the sugar from the spoon into it, and so on till all the sugar is extracted. Take a bit out of the water, and if it snaps and is brittle when cold, it is done enough. But let it be only three parts cold, then pour the water from the sugar, and having a copper form oiled well, run the sugar on it, in the manner of a maze, and when cold it may be put on the dish it is intended to cover. If on trial the sugar is not brittle, pour off the water, return it into the skillet, and boil it again. It should look thick like treacle, but of a light gold colour. This makes an elegant cover for sweetmeats. CARP. This excellent fish will live some time out of water, and may therefore get wasted: it is best to kill them as soon as caught, to prevent this. Carp should either be boiled or stewed. Scale and draw it, and save the blood. Set on water in a stewpan, with a little Chili vinegar, salt, and horse-radish. When it boils, put in the carp, and boil it gently for twenty minutes, according to the thickness of the fish. Stew the blood with half a pint of port wine, some good gravy, a sliced onion, a little whole pepper, a blade of mace, and a nutmeg grated. Thicken the sauce with butter rolled in flour, season it with pepper and salt, essence of anchovy, and mushroom ketchup. Serve up the fish with the sauce poured over it, adding a little lemon juice. Carp are also very nice plain boiled, with common fish sauce. CARPETS. In order to keep them clean, they should not frequently be swept with a whisk brush, as it wears them fast; not more than once a week, and at other times with sprinkled tea-leaves, and a hair brush. Fine carpets should be done gently on the knees, with a soft clothes' brush. When a carpet requires more cleaning, take it up and beat it well, then lay it down and brush it on both sides with a hand-brush. Turn it the right side upwards, and scour it clean with ox-gall and soap and water, and dry it with linen cloths. Lay it on the grass, or hang it up to dry thoroughly. CARRAWAY CAKE. Dry two pounds of good flour, add ten spoonfuls of yeast, and twelve of cream. Wash the salt out of a pound of butter, and rub it into the flour; beat up eight eggs with half the whites, and mix it with the composition already prepared. Work it into a light paste, set it before the fire to rise, incorporate a pound of carraway comfits, and an hour will bake it. CARRIER SAUCE. Chop six shalots fine, and boil them up with a gill of gravy, a spoonful of vinegar, some pepper and salt. This is used for mutton, and served in a boat. CARROLE OF RICE. Wash and pick some rice quite clean, boil it five minutes in water, strain and put it into a stewpan, with a bit of butter, a good slice of ham, and an onion. Stew it over a very gentle fire till tender; have ready a mould lined with very thin slices of bacon, mix the yolks of two or three eggs with the rice, and then line the bacon with it about half an inch thick. Put into it a ragout of chicken, rabbit, veal, or of any thing else. Fill up the mould, and cover it close with rice. Bake it in a quick oven an hour, turn it over, and send it to table in a good gravy, or curry sauce. CARROTS. This root requires a good deal of boiling. When young, wipe off the skin after they are boiled; when old, scrape them first, and boil them with salt meat. Carrots and parsnips should be kept in layers of dry sand for winter use, and not be wholly cleared from the earth. They should be placed separately, with their necks upward, and be drawn out regularly as they stand, without disturbing the middle or the sides. CARROT PUDDING. Boil a large carrot tender; then bruise it in a marble mortar, and mix with it a spoonful of biscuit powder, or three or four little sweet biscuits without seeds, four yolks and two whites of eggs, a pint of cream either raw or scalded, a little ratifia, a large spoonful of orange or rose-water, a quarter of a nutmeg, and two ounces of sugar. Bake it in a shallow dish lined with paste; turn it out, and dust a little fine sugar over it. CARROT SOUP. Put some beef bones into a saucepan, with four quarts of the liquor in which a leg of mutton or beef has been boiled, two large onions, a turnip, pepper and salt, and boil them together for three hours. Have ready six large carrots scraped and sliced; strain the soup on them, and stew them till soft enough to pulp through a hair sieve or coarse cloth, with a wooden spoon; but pulp only the red part of the carrot, and not the yellow. The soup should be made the day before, and afterwards boiled with the pulp, to the thickness of peas-soup, with the addition of a little cayenne. [Illustration: Carving] [Illustration: Carving.] CARVING. In nothing does ceremony more frequently triumph over comfort, than in the administration of 'the honours of the table.' Every one is sufficiently aware that a dinner, to be eaten in perfection, should be taken the very moment it is sent hot to table; yet few persons seem to understand, that he is the best carver who fills the plates of the greatest numbers of guests in the least portion of time, provided it be done with ease and elegance. In a mere family circle, where all cannot and ought not to be choosers, it is far better to fill the plates and send them round, rather than ask each individual what particular part they would prefer; and if in a larger company a similar plan were introduced, it would be attended with many advantages. A dexterous carver, would help half a dozen people in less time than is often wasted in making civil faces to a single guest. He will also cut fair, and observe an equitable distribution of the dainties he is serving out. It would save much time, if poultry, especially large turkeys and geese, were sent to table ready cut up. When a lady presides, the carving knife should be light, of a middling size, and of a fine edge. Strength is less required than address, in the manner of using, it; and to facilitate this, the butcher should be ordered to divide the joints of the bones, especially of the neck, breast, and loin of mutton, lamb, and veal; which may then be easily cut into thin slices attached to the adjoining bones. If the whole of the meat belonging to each bone should be too thick, a small slice may be taken off between every two bones. The more fleshy joints, as fillet of veal, leg or saddle of mutton and beef, are to be helped in thin slices, neatly cut and smooth; observing to let the knife pass down to the bone in the mutton and beef joints. The dish should not be too far off the carver, as it gives an awkward appearance, and makes the task more difficult. In helping fish, take care not to break the flakes; which in cod and very fresh salmon are large, and contribute much to the beauty of its appearance. A fish knife, not being sharp, divides it best on this account. Help a part of the roe, milt or liver, to each person. The heads of carp, part of those of cod and salmon, sounds of cod, and fins of turbot, are likewise esteemed niceties, and are to be attended to accordingly. In cutting up any wild fowl, duck, goose, or turkey, for a large party, if you cut the slices down from pinion to pinion, without making wings, there will be more prime pieces. But that the reader may derive the full advantage of these remarks, we shall descend to particulars, and illustrate the subject with a variety of interesting Plates, which will show at the same time the manner in which game and poultry should be trussed and dished.----COD'S HEAD. Fish in general requires very little carving, the fleshy parts being those principally esteemed. A cod's head and shoulders, when in season, and properly boiled, is a very genteel and handsome dish. When cut, it should be done with a fish trowel, and the parts about the backbone on the shoulders are the firmest and the best. Take off a piece quite down to the bone, in the direction _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, putting in the spoon at _a_, _c_, and with each slice of fish give a piece of the sound, which lies underneath the backbone and lines it, the meat of which is thin, and a little darker coloured than the body of the fish itself. This may be got by passing a knife or spoon underneath, in the direction of _d_, _f_. About the head are many delicate parts, and a great deal of the jelly kind. The jelly part lies about the jaw, bones, and the firm parts within the head. Some are fond of the palate, and others the tongue, which likewise may be got by putting a spoon into the mouth.----EDGE BONE OF BEEF. Cut off a slice an inch thick all the length from _a_ to _b_, in the figure opposite, and then help. The soft fat which resembles marrow, lies at the back of the bone, below _c_; the firm fat must be cut in horizontal slices at the edge of the meat _d_. It is proper to ask which is preferred, as tastes differ. The skewer that keeps the meat properly together when boiling is here shewn at _a_. This should be drawn out before it is served up; or, if it is necessary to leave the skewer in, put a silver one.----SIRLOIN OF BEEF may be begun either at the end, or by cutting into the middle. It is usual to enquire whether the outside or the inside is preferred. For the outside, the slice should be cut down to the bones; and the same with every following helping. Slice the inside likewise, and give with each piece some of the soft fat. The inside done as follows eats excellently. Have ready some shalot vinegar boiling hot: mince the meat large, and a good deal of the fat; sprinkle it with salt, and pour the shalot vinegar and the gravy on it. Help with a spoon, as quickly as possible, on hot plates.----ROUND OR BUTTOCK OF BEEF is cut in the same way as fillet of veal, in the next article. It should be kept even all over. When helping the fat, observe not to hack it, but cut it smooth. A deep slice should be cut off the beef before you begin to help, as directed above for the edge-bone.----FILLET OF VEAL. In an ox, this part is round of beef. Ask whether the brown outside be liked, otherwise help the next slice. The bone is taken out, and the meat tied close, before dressing, which makes the fillet very solid. It should be cut thin, and very smooth. A stuffing is put into the flap, which completely covers it; you must cut deep into this, and help a thin slice, as likewise of fat. From carelessness in not covering the latter with paper, it is sometimes dried up, to the great disappointment of the carver.----BREAST OF VEAL. One part, called the brisket, is thick and gristly; put the knife about four inches from the edge of this, and cut through it, which will separate the ribs from the brisket.----CALF'S HEAD has a great deal of meat upon it, if properly managed. Cut slices from _a_ to _b_, letting the knife go close to the bone. In the fleshy part, at the neck end _c_, there lies the throat sweetbread, which you should help a slice of from _c_ to _d_ with the other part. Many like the eye, which must be cut out with the point of a knife, and divided in two. If the jaw-bone be taken off, there will be found some fine lean. Under the head is the palate, which is reckoned a nicety; the lady of the house should be acquainted with all things that are thought so, that she may distribute them among her guests.----SHOULDER OF MUTTON. This is a very good joint, and by many preferred to the leg; it being very full of gravy, if properly roasted, and produces many nice bits. The figure represents it as laid in the dish with its back uppermost. When it is first cut, it should be in the hollow part of it, in the direction of _a_, _b_, and the knife should be passed deep to the bone. The prime part of the fat lies on the outer edge, and is to be cut out in thin slices in the direction _e_. If many are at table, and the hollow part cut in the line _a_, _b_, is eaten, some very good and delicate slices may be cut out on each side the ridge of the blade-bone, in the direction _c_, _d_. The line between these two dotted lines, is that in the direction of which the edge or ridge of the blade-bone lies, and cannot be cut across.----LEG OF MUTTON. A leg of wether mutton, which is the best flavoured, may be known by a round lump of fat at the edge of the broadest part, as at _a_. The best part is in the midway, at _b_, between the knuckle and further end. Begin to help there, by cutting thin deep slices to _c_. If the outside is not fat enough, help some from the side of the broad end in slices from _e_ to _f_. This part is most juicy; but many prefer the knuckle, which in fine mutton will be very tender though dry. There are very fine slices on the back of the leg: turn it up, and cut the broad end, not in the direction you did the other side, but longways. To cut out the cramp bone, take hold of the shank with your left hand, and cut down to the thigh bone at _d_; then pass the knife under the cramp bone in the direction, _d_, _g_.----FORE QUARTER OF LAMB. Separate the shoulder from the scoven, which is the breast and ribs, by passing the knife under in the direction of _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_; keeping it towards you horizontally, to prevent cutting the meat too much off the bones. If grass lamb, the shoulder being large, put it into another dish. Squeeze the juice of half a Seville orange or lemon on the other part, and sprinkle a little salt and pepper. Then separate the gristly part from the ribs in the line _e_, _c_; and help either from that or from the ribs, as may be chosen.----HAUNCH OF VENISON. Cut down to the bone in the line _a_, _b_, _c_, to let out the gravy. Then turn the broad end of the haunch toward you, put in the knife at _b_, and cut as deep as you can to the end of the haunch _d_; then help in thin slices, observing to give some fat to each person. There is more fat, which is a favourite part, on the left side of _c_ and _d_ than on the other: and those who help must take care to proportion it, as likewise the gravy, according to the number of the company.--HAUNCH OF MUTTON is the leg and part of the loin, cut so as to resemble a haunch of venison, and is to be helped at table in the same manner.----SADDLE OF MUTTON. Cut long thin slices from the tail to the end, beginning close to the back bone. If a large joint, the slice may be divided. Cut some fat from the sides.----HAM may be cut three ways. The common method is, to begin in the middle, by long slices from _a_ to _b_, from the centre through the thick fat. This brings to the prime at first, which is likewise accomplished by cutting a small round hole on the top of the ham, as at _c_, and with a sharp knife enlarging that by cutting successive thin circles: this preserves the gravy, and keeps the meat moist. The last and most saving way is, to begin at the hock end, which many are most fond of, and proceed onwards. Ham that is used for pies, &c. should be cut from the under side, first taking off a thick slice.----SUCKING PIG. The cook usually divides the body before it is sent to table, and garnishes the dish with the jaws and ears. The first thing is, to separate a shoulder from the carcase on one side, and then the leg, according to the direction given by the dotted line _a_, _b_, _c_. The ribs are then to be divided into about two helpings, and an ear or jaw presented with them, and plenty of sauce. The joints may either be divided into two each, or pieces may be cut from them. The ribs are reckoned the finest part, but some people prefer the neck end, between the shoulders.----GOOSE. Cut off the apron in the circular line _a_, _b_, _c_, and pour into the body a glass of port wine, and a large tea-spoonful of mustard, first mixed at the sideboard. Turn the neck end of the goose towards you, and cut the whole breast in long slices from one wing to another; but only remove them as you help each person, unless the company is so large as to require the legs likewise. This way gives more prime bits than by making wings. Take off the leg, by putting the fork into the small end of the bone, pressing it to the body; and having passed the knife at _d_, turn the leg back, and if a young bird, it will easily separate. To take off the wing, put your fork into the small end of the pinion, and press it close to the body; then put in the knife at _d_, and divide the joint, taking it down in the direction _d_, _e_. Nothing but practice will enable people to hit the joint dexterously. When the leg and wing of one side are done, go on to the other; but it is not often necessary to cut up the whole goose, unless the company be very large. There are two side bones by the wing, which may be cut off; as likewise the back and lower side bones: but the best pieces are the breast and the thighs, after being divided from the drum-sticks.----HARE. The best way of cutting it up is, to put the point of the knife under the shoulder at _a_, and so cut all the way down to the rump, on one side of the back-bone, in the line _a_, _b_. Do the same on the other side, so that the whole hare will be divided into three parts. Cut the back into four, which with the legs is the part most esteemed. The shoulder must be cut off in a circular line, as _c_, _d_, _a_. Lay the pieces neatly on the dish as you cut them; and then help the company, giving some pudding and gravy to every person. This way can only be practised when the hare is young. If old, do not divide it down, which will require a strong arm: but put the knife between the leg and back, and give it a little turn inwards at the joint; which you must endeavour to hit, and not to break by force. When both legs are taken off, there is a fine collop on each side the back; then divide the back into as many pieces as you please, and take of the shoulders, which are by many preferred, and are called the sportman's pieces. When every one is helped, cut off the head; put your knife between the upper and lower jaw, and divide them, which will enable you to lay the upper one flat on your plate; then put the point of the knife into the centre, and cut the head into two. The ears and brains may be helped then to those who like them.----Carve RABBITS as directed the latter way for hare; cutting the back into two pieces, which with the legs are the prime.----A FOWL. The legs of a boiled fowl are bent inwards, and tucked into the belly; but before it is served, the skewers are to be removed. Lay the fowl on your plate; and place the joints, as cut off, on the dish. Take the wing off in the direction of _a_ to _b_, in the annexed engraving, only dividing the joint with your knife; and then with your fork lift up the pinion, and draw the wing towards the legs, and the muscles will separate in a more complete form than if cut. Slip the knife between the leg and body, and cut to the bone; then with the fork turn the leg back, and the joint will give way if the bird is not old. When the four quarters are thus removed, take off the merrythought from _a_, and the neck bones; these last by putting in the knife at _c_, and pressing it under the long broad part of the bone in the line _c_, _b_. Then lift it up, and break it off from the part that sticks to the breast. The next thing is, to divide the breast from the carcase, by cutting through the tender ribs close to the breast, quite down to the tail. Then lay the back upwards, put your knife into the bone half-way from the neck to the rump, and on raising the lower end it will separate readily. Turn the rump from you, and very neatly take off the two sidebones, and the whole will be done. As each part is taken off, it should be turned neatly on the dish, and care should be taken that what is left goes properly from table. The breast and wings are looked upon as the best parts, but the legs are most juicy in young fowls. After all, more advantage will be gained by observing those who carve well, and a little practice, than by any written directions whatever.----A PHEASANT. The bird in the annexed engraving is as trussed for the spit, with its head under one of its wings. When the skewers are taken out, and the bird served, the following is the way to carve it. Fix a fork in the centre of the breast; slice it down in the line _a_, _b_; take off the leg on one side in the dotted line _b_, _d_; then cut off the wing on the same side in the line _c_, _d_. Separate the leg and wing on the other side, and then cut off the slices of breast you divided before. Be careful how you take off the wings; for if you should cut too near the neck, as at _g_, you will hit on the neck-bone, from which the wing must be separated. Cut off the merrythought in the line _f_, _g_, by passing the knife under it towards the neck. Cut the other parts as in a fowl. The breast, wings, and merrythought, are the most esteemed; but the leg has a higher flavour.----PARTRIDGE. The partridge is here represented as just taken from the spit; but before it is served up, the skewers must be withdrawn. It is cut up in the same manner as a fowl. The wings must be taken off in the line _a_, _b_, and the merrythought in the line _c_, _d_. The prime parts of a partridge are the wings, breast, and merrythought; but the bird being small, the two latter are not often divided. The wing is considered as the best, and the tip of it reckoned the most delicate morsel of the whole.----PIGEONS. Cut them in half, either from top to bottom or across. The lower part is generally thought the best; but the fairest way is to cut from the neck to _a_, rather than from _c_ to _b_, by _a_, which is the most fashionable. The figure represents the back of the pigeon; and the direction of the knife is in the line _c_, _b_, by _a_, if done the last way. CASKS. New casks are apt to give beer a bad taste, if not well scalded and seasoned before they are used. Boil therefore two pecks of bran or malt dust in a copper of water, pour it hot into the cask, stop it close, and let it stand two days. Then wash it clean, and dry it fit for use. Old casks are apt to grow musty, if allowed to stand by neglected; they should therefore be closely stopped as soon as emptied. When tainted, put in some lime, fill up with water, and let them stand a day or two. If this be not sufficient, the head must be taken out, the inside well scoured, and the head replaced. CATERPILLARS. These noxious insects, sustained by leaves and fruit, have been known in all ages and nations for their depredations on the vegetable world. In August and September they destroy cabbages and turnips in great abundance, and commit their ravages in fields and gardens whenever the easterly winds prevail. Various means have been devised for their destruction, and any of the following which may happen to be the most convenient, may be employed with very good effect. Mix and heat three quarts of water and one quart of vinegar, put in a full pound of soot, and stir it with a whisk till the whole is incorporated. Sprinkle the plants with this preparation, every morning and evening, by dipping in a brush and shedding it over them; and in a few days all the cankers will disappear. Or sow with hemp all the borders where cabbages are planted, so as to enclose them, and not one of these vermin will approach. When gooseberry or currant bushes are attacked, a very simple expedient will suffice. Put pieces of woollen rags in every bush, the caterpillars will take refuge in them during the night, and in the morning quantities of them may thus be taken and destroyed. If this do not succeed, dissolve an ounce of alum in a quart of tobacco liquor; and as soon as the leaves of the plants or bushes appear in the least corroded, sprinkle on the mixture with a brush. If any eggs be deposited, they never come forward after this application; and if changed into worms they will sicken and die, and fall off. Nothing is more effectual than to dust the leaves of plants with sulphur put into a piece of muslin, or thrown upon them with a dredging box: this not only destroys the insects, but materially promotes the health of the plants. When caterpillars attack fruit trees, they may be destroyed by a strong decoction of equal quantities of rue, wormwood, and tobacco, sprinkled on the leaves and branches while the fruit is ripening. Or take a chafing-dish of burning charcoal, place it under the branches of the bush or tree, and throw on it a little brimstone. The vapour of the sulphur, and the suffocating fume arising from the charcoal, will not only destroy all the insects, but prevent the plants from being infested with them any more that season. Black cankers, which commit great devastation among turnips, are best destroyed by turning a quantity of ducks into the field infested by them. Every fourth year these cankers become flies, when they deposit their eggs on the ground, and thus produce maggots. The flies on their first appearance settle on the trees, especially the oak, elm, and maple: in this state they should be shaken down on packsheets, and destroyed. If this were done before they begin to deposit their eggs on the ground, the ravages of the canker would in a great measure be prevented. CAUDLE. Make a fine smooth gruel of half grits, strain it after being well boiled, and stir it at times till quite cold. When to be used, add sugar, wine, lemon peel and nutmeg. A spoonful of brandy may be added, and a little lemon juice if approved. Another way is to boil up half a pint of fine gruel, with a bit of butter the size of a large nutmeg, a spoonful of brandy, the same of white wine, one of capillaire, a bit of lemon peel and nutmeg.--Another. Beat up the yolk of an egg with sugar, mix it with a large spoonful of cold water, a glass of wine, and nutmeg. Mix it by degrees with a pint of fine gruel, not thick, but while it is boiling hot. This caudle is very agreeable and nourishing. Some add a glass of beer and sugar, or a tea-spoonful of brandy.--A caudle for the sick and lying-in is made as follows. Set three quarts of water on the fire, mix smooth as much oatmeal as will thicken the whole, with a pint of cold water; and when the water boils pour in the thickening, and add twenty peppercorns in fine powder. Boil it up to a tolerable thickness; then add sugar, half a pint of good table beer, and a glass of gin, all heated up together. CAULIFLOWERS. Choose those that are close and white, cut off the green leaves, and see that there be no caterpillars about the stalk. Soak them an hour in cold water, then boil them in milk and water, and take care to skim the saucepan, that not the least foulness may fall on the flower. The vegetable should be served very white, and not boiled too much.--Cauliflower dressed in white sauce should be half boiled, and cut into handsome pieces. Then lay them in a stewpan with a little broth, a bit of mace, a little salt, and a dust of white pepper. Simmer them together half an hour; then add a little cream, butter, and flour. Simmer a few minutes longer, and serve them up.--To dress a cauliflower with parmesan, boil the vegetable, drain it on a sieve, and cut the stalk so that the flower will stand upright about two inches above the dish. Put it into a stewpan with a little white sauce, and in a few minutes it will be done enough. Then dish it with the sauce round, put parmesan grated over it, and brown it with a salamander. CAULIFLOWERS RAGOUT. Pick and wash the cauliflowers very clean, stew them in brown gravy till they are tender, and season with pepper and salt. Put them in a dish, pour gravy on them, boil some sprigs of cauliflower white, and lay round. CAYENNE. Those who are fond of this spice had better make it themselves of English capsicums or chillies, for there is no other way of being sure that it is genuine. Pepper of a much finer flavour may be obtained in this way, without half the heat of the foreign article, which is frequently adulterated and coloured with red lead. Capsicums and chillies are ripe and in good condition, during the months of September and October. The flavour of the chillies is superior to that of the capsicums, and will be good in proportion as they are dried as soon as possible, taken care that they be not burnt. Take away the stalks, put the pods into a cullender, and set them twelve hours before the fire to dry. Then put them into a mortar, with one fourth their weight of salt; pound and rub them till they are as fine as possible, and put the powder into a well-stopped bottle. A hundred large chillies will produce about two ounces of cayenne. When foreign cayenne is pounded, it is mixed with a considerable portion of salt, to prevent its injuring the eyes: but English chillies may be pounded in a deep mortar without any danger, and afterwards passed through a fine sieve. CELERY SAUCE. Cut small half a dozen heads of clean white celery, with two sliced onions. Put them into a stewpan, with a small piece of butter, and sweat them over a slow fire till quite tender. Add two spoonfuls of flour, half a pint of broth, salt and pepper, and a little cream or milk. Boil it a quarter of an hour, and pass it through a fine hair sieve with the back of a spoon. When celery is not in season, a quarter of a dram of celery seed, or a little of the essence, will impregnate half a pint of sauce with all the flavour of the vegetable. This sauce is intended for boiled turkey, veal, or fowls. CELERY SOUP. Split half a dozen heads of celery into slips about two inches long, wash them well, drain them on a hair sieve, and put them into a soup pot, with three quarts of clear gravy. Stew it very gently by the side of the fire, about an hour, till the celery is tender. If any scum arise, take it off, and season with a little salt. When celery cannot be procured, half a dram of the seed, pounded fine, will give a flavour to the soup, if put in a quarter of an hour before it is done. A little of the essence of the celery will answer the same purpose. CELLARS. Beer and ale that have been well brewed, are often injured or spoiled in the keeping, for want of paying proper attention to the state of the cellar. It is necessary however to exclude as much as possible all external air from these depositaries, as the state of the surrounding atmosphere has a most material influence upon the liquor, even after it has been made a considerable time. If the cellar is liable to damps in the winter, it will tend to chill the liquor, and make it turn flat; or if exposed to the heat of summer, it will be sure to turn sour. The great object therefore is to have a cellar that is both cool and dry. Dorchester beer, generally in high esteem, owes much of its fineness to this circumstance. The soil in that county being very chalky, of a close texture and free from damps, the cellars are always cool and dry, and the liquors are found to keep in the best possible manner. The Nottingham ale derives much of its celebrity also from the peculiar construction of the cellars, which are generally excavated out of a rock of sand-stone to a considerable depth, of a circular or conical form, with benches formed all round in the same way, and on these the barrels are placed in regular succession. CERATE. Half a pound of white wax, half a pound of calumine stone finely powdered, and a pint and a half of olive oil, will make an excellent cerate. Let the calumine be rubbed smooth with some of the oil, and added to the rest of the oil and wax, which should be previously melted together. Stir them together till they are quite cold. CHARDOONS. To dress chardoons, cut them into pieces of six inches long, and tie them in a bunch. Boil them tender, then flour and fry them with a piece of butter, and when brown serve them up. Or tie them in bundles, and serve them on toast as boiled asparagus, with butter poured over. Another way is to boil them, and then heat them up in fricassee sauce. Or boil in salt and water, dry them, dip them into butter, fry, and serve them up with melted butter. Or having boiled, stew, and toss them up with white or brown gravy. Add a little cayenne, ketchup, and salt, and thicken with a bit of butter and flour. CHARLOTTE. Rub a baking-dish thick with butter, and line the bottom and sides with very thin slices of white bread. Put in layers of apples thinly sliced, strewing sugar between, and bits of butter, till the dish is full. In the mean time, soak in warm milk as many thin slices of bread as will cover the whole; over which lay a plate, and a weight to keep the bread close on the apples. To a middling sized dish use half a pound of butter in the whole, and bake slowly for three hours. CHEAP SOUP. Much nutricious food might be provided for the poor and necessitous, at a very trifling expence, by only adopting a plan of frugality, and gathering up the fragments, that nothing be lost. Save the liquor in which every piece of meat, ham, or tongue has been boiled, however salt; for it is easy to use only a part of it, and to add a little fresh water. Then, by the addition of more vegetables, the bones of meat used in the family, the pieces of meat that come from table on the plates, and rice, Scotch barley, or oatmeal, there will be some gallons of useful soup saved. The bits of meat should only be warmed in the soup, and remain whole; the bones and sinewy parts should be boiled till they yield their nourishment. If the fragments are ready to put into the boiler as soon as the meat is served, it will save lighting the fire, and a second cooking. Take turnips, carrots, leeks, potatoes, leaves of lettuce, or any sort of vegetable that is at hand; cut them small, and throw in with the thick part of peas, after they have been pulped for soup, and grits, or coarse oatmeal, which have been used for gruel. Should the soup be poor of meat, the long boiling of the bones, and different vegetables, will afford better nourishment than the laborious poor can generally obtain; especially as they are rarely tolerable cooks, and have not fuel to do justice to what they buy. In almost every family there is some superfluity; and if it be prepared with cleanliness and care, the benefit will be very great to the receiver, and the satisfaction no less to the giver. The cook or servant should never be allowed to wash away as useless, the peas or grits of which soup or gruel have been made, broken potatoes, the green heads of celery, the necks and feet of fowls, and particularly the shanks of mutton; all of which are capable of adding flavour and richness to the soup. The bones, heads, and fins of fish, containing a portion of isinglass, may also be very usefully applied, by stewing them in the water in which the fish is boiled, and adding it to the soup, with the gravy that is left in the dish. If strained, it considerably improves the meat soup, particularly for the sick; and when such are to be supplied, the milder parts of the spare bones and meat should be used, with very little of the liquor of the salt meats. If a soup be wanted for the weakly and infirm, put two cow heels and a breast of mutton into a large pan, with four ounces of rice, one onion, twenty corns of Jamaica pepper, and twenty black, a turnip, and carrot, and four gallons of water. Cover it with white paper, and bake it six hours. CHEESE. This well-known article of domestic consumption, is prepared from curdled milk, cleared from the whey. It differs very much in quality and flavour, according to the pasture in which the cows feed, and the manner in which the article itself is made. The same land rarely produces very fine butter, and remarkably fine cheese; yet with proper management, it may give one pretty good, where the other excels in quality. Cheese made on the same land, from new milk, skimmed or mixed milk, will differ greatly, not only in richness, but also in taste. Valuable cheese may be made from a tolerable pasture, by taking the whole of two meals of milk, and proportioning the thickness of the vat to the quantity, rather than having a wide and flat one, as the former will produce the mellowest cheese. The addition of a pound of fresh-made butter of a good quality, will cause the cheese made on poor land to be of a very different quality from that usually produced by it. A few cheeses thus made, when the weather is not extremely hot, and when the cows are in full feed, are well adapted to the use of the parlour. Cheese for common family use may very well be produced by two meals of skim, and one of new milk; or on good land, by the skim milk only. The principal ingredient in making cheese is the rennet, maw, or inner part of a calf's stomach, which is cleaned, salted, and hung up in paper bags to dry. The night before it is used, it is washed and soaked in a little water. When the milk is ready, being put into a large tub, warm a part of it to the degree of new milk; but if made too hot, the cheese will be tough. Pour in as much rennet as will curdle the milk, and then cover it over. Let it stand till completely turned; then strike the curd down several times with the skimming dish, and let it separate, still keeping it covered. There are two modes of breaking the curd, and there will be a difference in the taste of the cheese, according as either is observed. One is to gather it with the hands very gently towards the side of the tub, letting the whey pass through the fingers till it is cleared; and lading it off as it collects. The other is, to get the whey from it by early breaking the curd. The last method deprives it of many of its oily particles, and is therefore less proper. In pursuing the process, put the vat on a ladder over the tub, and fill it with curd by means of the skimmer. Press the curd close with the hand, add more as it sinks, and finally leave it two inches above the edge. Before the vat is filled, the cheesecloth must be laid at the bottom; and when full, drawn smooth over on all sides. In salting the cheese, two modes may be adopted; either by mixing it in the curd while in the tub, after the whey is out, or by putting it in the vat, and crumbling the curd all to pieces with it, after the first squeezing with the hand has dried it. These different methods prevail in the different parts of the country. Put a board under and over the vat, and place it in the press: in two hours turn it out, and put in a fresh cheesecloth. Press it again for eight or nine hours, salt it all over, and turn it again in the vat. Let it stand in the press fourteen or sixteen hours, observing to put the cheeses last made undermost. Before putting them the last time into the vat, pare the edges if they do not look smooth. The vat should have holes at the sides, and at the bottom, to let all the whey pass through. Put on clean boards, and change and scald them. When cheese is made, care must be taken to preserve it sound and good. For this purpose wash it occasionally in warm whey, wipe it once a month, and keep it on a rack. If wanted to ripen soon, a damp cellar will bring it forward. When a whole cheese is cut, the inside of the larger quantity should be spread with butter, and the outside wiped, to preserve it. To keep those in daily use moist, let a clean cloth be wrung out from cold water, and wrapt round them when carried from the table. Dry cheese may be used to advantage to grate for serving with macaroni or eating without; and any thing tending to prevent waste, is of some consequence in a system of domestic economy. To preserve cheeses from decay, lay them in an airy situation, and cover them with dried leaves of the yellow star of Bethlehem. The tender branches of the common birch, will prevent the ravages of mites. If cheese get hard, and lose its flavour, pour some sweet wine over four ounces of pearlash, till the liquor ceases to ferment. Filter the solution, dip into it some clean linen cloths, cover the cheese with them, and put in a cool dry place. Turn the cheese every day, repeat the application for some weeks, and the cheese will recover its former flavour and goodness. CHEESECAKES. Strain the whey from the curd of two quarts of milk; when rather dry, crumble it through a coarse sieve. With six ounces of fresh butter, mix one ounce of blanched almonds pounded, a little orange-flower water, half a glass of raisin wine, a grated biscuit, four ounces of currants, some nutmeg and cinnamon in fine powder. Beat them up together with three eggs, and half a pint of cream, till quite light: then fill the pattipans three parts full.--To make a plainer sort of cheesecakes, turn three quarts of milk to curd; break it and drain off the whey. When quite dry, break it in a pan, with two ounces of butter, till perfectly smooth. Add a pint and a half of thin cream or good milk, a little sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg, and three ounces of currants.--Another way is to mix the curd of three quarts of milk, a pound of currants, twelve ounces of Lisbon sugar, a quarter of an ounce of cinnamon, the same of nutmeg, the peel of one lemon chopped as fine as possible, the yolks of eight and the whites of six eggs, a pint of scalded cream and a glass of brandy. Put a light thin puff paste in the pattipans, and three parts fill them. CHEESE PUFFS. Strain some cheese curd from the whey, and beat half a pint of it fine in a mortar, with a spoonful and a half of flour, three eggs, but only one white. Add a spoonful of orange-flower water, a quarter of a nutmeg, and sugar to make it pretty sweet. Lay a little of this paste, in small round cakes, on a tin plate. If the oven be hot, a quarter of an hour will bake them. Serve the puffs with pudding sauce. CHERRY BRANDY. Stone ten pounds of black cherries, bruise the stones in a mortar, and put them to a gallon of the best brandy. Let it stand a month close covered, pour it clear from the sediment, and bottle it. Morella cherries managed in this way will make a fine rich cordial. CHERRY JAM. To twelve pounds of ripe fruit, Kentish or duke cherries, weigh one pound of sugar. Break the stones of part, and blanch them; then put them to the fruit and sugar, and boil all gently till the jam comes clear from the pan. Pour it into china plates to come up dry to the table, and keep it in boxes with white paper between. CHERRY PIE. This should have a mixture of other fruit; currants or raspberries, or both. Currant pie is also best with raspberries. CHERRY WINE. Mash some ripe cherries, and press them through a hair sieve. Allow three pounds of lump sugar to two quarts of juice, stir them together till the sugar is dissolved, and fill a small barrel with the liquor. Add a little brandy, close down the bung when it has done hissing, let it stand six months and bottle it off. CHERRIES IN BRANDY. Weigh some fine morellas, cut off half the stalk, prick them with a new needle, and drop them into a jar or wide-mouth bottle. Pound three quarters of the weight of sugar or white candy, and strew over; fill the bottle up with brandy, and tie a bladder over. CHERVIL SAUCE. The flavour of this fine herb, so long a favourite with the French cook, is a strong concentration of the combined taste of parsley and fennel, but more aromatic and agreeable than either, and makes an excellent sauce for boiled poultry or fish. Wash the chervil, and pick it very clean; put a tea-spoonful of salt into half a pint of boiling water, boil the chervil about ten minutes, drain it on a sieve, and mince it very fine. Put it into a sauce boat, mix with it by degrees some good melted butter, and send it up in the boat. CHESHIRE CHEESE. In preparing this article, the evening's milk is not touched till the next morning, when the cream is taken off and warmed in a pan, heated with boiling water; one third part of the milk is heated in a similar manner. The cows being milked early in the morning, the new milk, and that of the preceding night thus prepared, are poured into a large tub along with the cream. A piece of rennet kept in lukewarm water since the preceding evening, is put into the tub in order to curdle the milk, and the curd is coloured by an infusion of marigolds or carrots being rubbed into it. It is then stirred together, covered up warm, and allowed to stand about half an hour till it is coagulated; when it is first turned over with a bowl to separate the whey from the curds, and broken soon after into small pieces. When it has stood some time, the whey is taken out, and a weight laid at the bottom of the tub to press out the remainder. As soon as it becomes more solid, it is cut into slices, and turned over several times to extract all the whey, and again pressed with weights. Being taken out of the tub, it is broken very small, salted, and put into a cheese vat. It is then strongly pressed and weighted, and wooden skewers are placed round the cheese, which are frequently drawn out. It is then shifted out of the vat with a cloth placed at the bottom; and being turned it is put into the vat again. The upper part is next broken by the hand down to the middle, salted, pressed, weighted, and skewered as before, till all the whey is extracted. The cheese is then reversed into another vat, likewise warmed with a cloth under it, and a tin hoop put round the upper part of the cheese. These operations take up the greater part of the forenoon; the pressing of the cheese requires about eight hours more, as it must be twice turned in the vat, round which thin wire skewers are passed, and shifted occasionally. The next morning it ought to be turned and pressed again; and on the following day the outside is salted, and a cloth binder tied round it. The outsides are sometimes rubbed with butter, in order to give them a coat; and being turned and cleaned every day, they are left to dry two or three weeks. CHICKENS. Fowls are chiefly considered as an article of luxury, and are generally sold at a high price; yet the rearing of them is seldom productive of much pecuniary advantage. They are liable to innumerable accidents in their early stages, which require incessant watchfulness and care; and if the grain on which they feed is to be purchased, the labour and expence are scarcely requited by the price they bear in the market. The Irish peasantry are in the habit of rearing a great number of fowls, by substituting the offal of potatoes instead of grain; but the flesh is neither so firm nor so good as that of chickens raised in England. It is much to be desired therefore, that encouragement could be given to the cottagers of this country for rearing a larger quantity of poultry, by means less expensive than the present, in order that the market might be supplied on better terms with an article of food so fine and delicate, and in such general respect. Various artificial means have been used for brooding chickens, in order to increase their number, and to bring them forward at an earlier season, but none of them have been found to answer, though in Egypt immense quantities are raised every year by the heat of ovens, bringing the eggs to a state of maturity. A well-fed hen is supposed to lay about two hundred eggs in a year; but as she does not sit more than once or twice in that time, it is but a small quantity of chickens that can be hatched in the usual way, and it would be highly desirable if some other expedient could be devised.--The most expeditious way of fattening chickens is to mix a quantity of rice flour sufficient for present use, with milk and a little coarse sugar, and stir it over the fire till it comes to a thick paste. Feed the chickens with it while it is warm by putting as much into their coops as they can eat; and if a little beer be given them to drink, it will fatten them very soon. A mixture of oatmeal and treacle made into crumbs is also good food for chickens; and they are so fond of it, that they will grow and fatten much faster than in the common way. Poultry in general should be fed in coops, and kept very clean. Their common food is barley meal mixed with water: this should not be put in troughs, but laid upon a board, which should be washed clean every time fresh food is put upon it. The common complaint of fowls, called the pip, is chiefly occasioned by foul and heated water being given them. No water should be allowed, more than is mixed up with their food; but they should often be provided with some clean gravel in their coop.--The method of fattening poultry for the London market, is liable to great objection. They are put into a dark place, and crammed with a paste made of barley meal, mutton suet, treacle or coarse sugar, mixed with milk, which makes them ripe in about a fortnight; but if kept longer, the fever that is induced by this continual state of repletion, renders them red and unsaleable, and frequently kills them. Air and exercise are as indispensable to the health of poultry as to other animals; and without it, the fat will be all accumulated in the cellular membrane, instead of being dispersed throughout the system. A barn-door fowl is preferable to any other, only that it cannot be fatted in so short a time. CHICKEN BROTH. Having boiled a chicken for panada, take off the skin and the rump, and put it into the water it was boiled in. Add one blade of mace, a slice of onion, and ten corns of white pepper. Simmer it till the broth be of a pleasant flavour, adding a little water if necessary. Beat a quarter of an ounce of sweet almonds with a tea-spoonful of water till it is quite fine, boil it in the broth, and strain it. When cold, remove the fat. CHICKEN CURRIE. Cut up the chicken raw, slice onions, and fry both in butter with great care, of a fine light brown; or if chickens that have been dressed are used, fry only the onions. Having cut the joints into two or three pieces each, lay them in a stewpan, with veal or mutton gravy, and a clove or two of garlic. Simmer till the chicken is quite tender. Half an hour before serving it up, rub smooth a spoonful or two of currie powder, a spoonful of flour, and an ounce of butter; and add this to the stew, with four large spoonfuls of cream, and a little salt. Squeeze in a small lemon, when the dish is going to table.--A more easy way to make currie is to cut up a chicken or young rabbit; if chicken, take off the skin. Roll each piece in a mixture of a large spoonful of flour, and half an ounce of currie powder. Slice two or three onions, and fry them in butter, of a light brown; then add the meat, and fry all together till the meat begin to brown. Put all into a stewpan, cover it with boiling water, and simmer very gently two or three hours. If too thick, add more water half an hour before serving. If the meat has been dressed before, a little broth will be better than water, but the currie is richer when made of fresh meat. Slices of underdone veal, turkey, or rabbit, will make excellent currie. A dish of rice boiled dry should be served with it. CHICKEN PANADA. Boil a chicken in a quart of water, till about three parts ready. Take off the skin, cut off the white meat when cold, and pound it to a paste in a marble mortar, with a little of the liquor it was boiled in. Season it with a little salt, a grate of nutmeg, and the least bit of lemon peel. Boil it gently for a few minutes till it be tolerably thick, but so it may be drank. The flesh of a chicken thus reduced to a small compass, will be found very nourishing. CHICKEN PIE. Cut up two young fowls, season them with white pepper, salt, a little mace, nutmeg, and cayenne, all finely powdered. Put alternately in layers the chicken, slices of ham, or fresh gammon of bacon, forcemeat balls, and eggs boiled hard. If baked in a dish, add a little water, but none if in a raised crust. Prepare some veal gravy from the knuckle or scrag, with some shank-bones of mutton, seasoned with herbs, onions, mace, and white pepper, to be poured into the pie when it returns from the oven. If it is to be eaten hot, truffles, morels, and mushrooms may be added; but not if it is to be eaten cold. If baked in a raised crust, the gravy must be nicely strained, and then put in cold as jelly. To make the jelly clear, give it a boil with the whites of two eggs, after taking away the meat, and then run it through a fine lawn sieve.--Rabbits, if young and fleshy, will make as good a pie. Their legs should be cut short, and their breast-bones must not go in, but will help to make the gravy. CHICKEN SAUCE. An anchovy or two boned and chopped, some parsley and onion chopped, and mixed together, with pepper, oil, vinegar, mustard, walnut or mushroom ketchup, will make a good sauce for cold chicken, veal, or partridge. CHILI VINEGAR. Slice fifty English chilies, fresh and of a good colour, and infuse them in a pint of the best vinegar. In a fortnight, this will give a much finer flavour than can be obtained from foreign cayenne, and impart an agreeable relish to fish sauce. CHIMNEY PIECES. To blacken the fronts of stone chimney-pieces, mix oil varnish with lamp black that has been sifted, and a little spirit of turpentine to thin it to the consistence of paint. Wash the stone very clean with soap and water, and sponge it with clear water. When perfectly dry, brush it over twice with this colour, leaving it to dry between the times, and it will look extremely well. CHINA. Broken china may be repaired with cement, made of equal parts of glue, the white of an egg, and white-lead mixed together. The juice of garlic, bruised in a stone mortar, is also a fine cement for broken glass or china; and if carefully applied, will leave no mark behind it. Isinglass glue, mixed with a little finely sifted chalk, will answer the same purpose, if the articles be not required to endure heat or moisture. CHINA CHILO. Mince a pint-basonful of undressed neck or leg of mutton, with some of the fat. Put into a stewpan closely covered, two onions, a lettuce, a pint of green peas, a tea-spoonful of salt, the same quantity of pepper, four spoonfuls of water, and two or three ounces of clarified butter. Simmer them together two hours, add a little cayenne if approved, and serve in the middle of a dish of boiled dry rice. CHINE OF BACON. One that has been salted and dried requires to be soaked several hours in cold water, and scraped clean. Then take a handful of beech, half as much parsley, a few sprigs of thyme, and a little sage, finely chopped together. Make some holes in the chine with the point of a knife, fill them with the herbs, skewer the meat up in a cloth, and boil it slowly about three hours. A dried pig's face is cooked in the same manner, adding a little salt, pepper, and bread crumbs to the stuffing. CHOCOLATE. Those who use much of this article, will find the following mode of preparing it both useful and economical. Cut a cake of chocolate into very small pieces, and put a pint of water into the pot; when it boils, put in the chocolate. Mill it off the fire till quite melted, then on a gentle fire till it boil; pour it into a bason, and it will keep in a cool place eight or ten days or more. When wanted, put a spoonful or two into some milk; boil it with sugar, and mill it well. If not made too thick, this will form a very good breakfast or supper. CHOCOLATE CREAM. Scrape into one quart of thick cream, an ounce of the best chocolate, and a quarter of a pound of sugar. Boil and mill it: when quite smooth, take it off the fire, and leave it to be cold. Then add the whites of nine eggs; whisk it, and take up the froth on sieves, as other creams are done. Serve up the froth in glasses, to rise above some of the cream. CHOLIC. Young children are often afflicted with griping pains in the bowels; and if attended with costiveness, it will be necessary to give them very small doses of manna and rhubarb every half hour, till they produce the desired effect. When the stools are green, a few drams of magnesia, with one or two of rhubarb, according to the age of the patient, may be given with advantage; but the greatest benefit will be derived from clysters made of milk, oil and sugar, or a solution of white soap and water. A poultice of bread, milk and oil, may likewise be applied to the lower part of the belly, and frequently renewed with a little warm milk to give it a proper consistence. The cholic in adults arises from a variety of causes, not easily distinguished except by professional persons; and therefore it is absolutely necessary to abstain from all violent remedies, or it may be attended with fatal consequences. Nothing can be applied with safety but emollient clysters and fomentations, and to drink copiously of camomile tea, or any other diluting liquor, till the spasms be relieved, and the nature of the disease more clearly understood. Persons who are subject to the bilious cholic in particular, should abstain from acrid, watery and oily food, especially butter, fat meat, and hot liquors: and pursue a calm and temperate course of life. CHOPPED HANDS. Wash in common water, and then in rose water, a quarter of a pound of hog's lard not salted; mix with it the yolks of two new laid eggs, and a large spoonful of honey. Add as much fine oatmeal, or almond paste, as will work it into a paste; and by frequently rubbing it on the hands, it will keep them smooth, and prevent their being chopped. CHOPPED LIPS. Put into a new tin saucepan, a quarter of an ounce of benjamin, storax, and spermaceti, two pennyworth of alkanet root, a large juicy apple chopped, a bunch of black grapes bruised, a quarter of a pound of unsalted butter, and two ounces of bees wax. Simmer them together till all be dissolved, and strain it through a linen. When cold melt it again, and pour it into small pots or boxes, or make it into cakes on the bottoms of tea-cups. CHUMP OF VEAL. To dress it _à-la-daube_, cut off the chump end of the loin, take out the edge bone, stuff the hollow with good forcemeat, tie it up tight, and lay it in a stewpan with the bone that was taken out, a little faggot of herbs, an anchovy, two blades of mace, a few white peppercorns, and a pint of good veal broth. Cover the veal with slices of fat bacon, and lay a sheet of white paper over it. Cover the pan close, simmer it two hours, then take out the bacon, and glaze the veal. Serve it on mushrooms, with sorrel sauce, or any other that may be preferred. CHURNING. In order to prepare for this important operation, the milk when drawn from the cow, and carefully strained through a cloth or hair sieve, should be put into flat wooden trays about three inches deep, and perfectly clean and cool. The trays are then to be placed on shelves, till the cream be completely separated; when it is to be nicely taken off with a skimming dish, without lifting or stirring the milk. The cream is then deposited in a separate vessel, till a proper quantity is collected for churning. In hot weather, the milk should stand only twenty-four hours, and be skimmed early in the morning before the dairy becomes warm, or in the evening after sun-set. In winter the milk may remain unskimmed for six and thirty or even eight and forty hours. The cream should be preserved in a deep pan during the summer, and placed in the coolest part of the dairy, or in a cellar where free air is admitted. The cream which rises first to the surface is richer in quality, and larger in quantity, than what rises afterwards. Thick milk produces a smaller proportion of cream than that which is thinner, though the former is of a richer quality: if therefore the thick milk be diluted with water, it will afford more cream, but its quality will be inferior. Milk carried about in pails, and partly cooled before it be strained and poured into the trays, never throws up such good and plentiful cream, as if it had been put into proper vessels immediately after it came from the cow. Those who have not an opportunity of churning every other day, should shift the cream daily into clean pans, in order to keep it cool; but the churning should take place regularly twice a week in hot weather, and in the morning before sun-rise, taking care to fix the churn in a free circulation of air. In the winter time, the churn must not be set so near the fire as to heat the wood, as by this means the butter will acquire a strong rancid flavour. Cleanliness being of the utmost importance, the common plunge-churn is preferable to any other; but if a barrel-churn be requisite in a large dairy, it must be kept thoroughly clean with salt and water. If a plunge-churn be used, it may be set in a tub of cold water during the time of churning, which will harden the butter in a considerable degree. The motion of the churn should be regular, and performed by one person, or the butter will in winter go back; and if the agitation be violent and irregular, the butter will ferment in summer, and acquire a disagreeable flavour. The operation of churning may be much facilitated by adding a table-spoonful or two of distilled vinegar to a gallon of cream, but not till after the latter has undergone considerable agitation. In many parts of England, butter is artificially coloured in winter, though it adds nothing to its goodness. The juice of carrots is expressed through a sieve, and mixed with the cream when it enters the churn, to give it the appearance of May butter. Very little salt is used in the best Epping butter; but a certain proportion of acid, either natural or artificial, must be used in the cream, in order to secure a successful churning. Some keep a small quantity of the old cream for that purpose; some use a little rennet, and others a few tea-spoonfuls of lemon juice. It has been ascertained however, by a variety of experiments, that it is more profitable to churn the cream, than to churn the whole milk, as is practised in some parts of the country. Cream butter is also the richest of the two, though it will not keep sweet so long. CIDER. Particular caution is requisite in bottling this useful beverage, in order to its being well preserved. To secure the bottles from bursting, the liquor must be thoroughly fine before it be racked off. If one bottle break, it will be necessary to open the remainder, and cork them up again. Weak cider is more apt to burst the bottles, than that of a better quality. Good corks, soaked in hot water, will be more safe and pliant; and by laying the bottles so that the liquor may always keep the corks wet and swelled, will tend much to its preservation. For this purpose the ground is preferable to a frame, and a layer of sawdust better than the bare floor; but the most proper situation would be a stream of running water. In order to ripen bottled liquors, they are sometimes exposed to moderate warmth, or the rays of the sun, which in a few days will bring them to maturity. CIDER CUP. To make a cooling drink, mix together a quart of cider, a glass of white wine, one of brandy, one of capillaire, the juice of a lemon, a bit of the peel pared thin, a sprig of borage or balm, a piece of toasted bread, and nutmeg grated on the top. CINNAMON CAKES. Whisk together in a pan six eggs, and two table-spoonfuls of rose water. Add a pound of fine sugar sifted, a desert-spoonful of pounded cinnamon, and flour sufficient to make it into a paste. Roll it out, cut it into cakes, and bake them on writing paper. CITRON PUDDING. Boil some Windsor beans quite soft, take off the skins, and beat a quarter of a pound of them into a paste. Then add as much butter, four eggs well beaten, with some sugar and brandy. Put a puff-paste in the dish, lay some slices of citron on it, pour in the pudding, garnish with bits of citron round the edge of the dish, and bake it in a moderate oven. CLARIFIED BROTH. Put broth or gravy into a clean stewpan, break the white and shell of an egg, beat them together and add them to the broth. Stir it with a whisk; and when it has boiled a few minutes, strain it through a tammis or a napkin. CLARIFIED BUTTER. To make clarified butter for potted things, put some butter into a sauceboat, and set it over the fire in a stewpan that has a little water in it. When the butter is dissolved, the milky parts will sink to the bottom, and care must be taken not to pour them over things to be potted. CLARIFIED DRIPPING. Mutton fat taken from the meat before it is roasted, or any kind of dripping, may be sliced and boiled a few minutes; and when it is cold, it will come off in a cake. This will make good crust for any sort of meat pie, and may be made finer by boiling it three or four times. CLARIFIED SUGAR. Break in large lumps as much loaf sugar as is required, and dissolve it in a bowl, allowing a pound of sugar to half a pint of water. Set it over the fire, and add the white of an egg well whipt. Let it boil up; and when ready to run over, pour in a little cold water to give it a check. But when it rises the second time, take it off the fire, and set it by in a pan a quarter of an hour. The foulness will sink to the bottom, and leave a black scum on the top, which must be taken off gently with a skimmer. Then pour the syrup very quickly from the sediment, and set it by for sweetmeats. CLARIFIED SYRUP. Break two pounds of double-refined sugar, and put it into a stewpan that is well tinned, with a pint of cold spring water. When the sugar is dissolved, set it over a moderate fire. Beat up half the white of an egg, put it to the sugar before it gets warm, and stir it well together. As soon as it boils take off the scum, and keep it boiling till it is perfectly clear. Run it through a clean napkin, put it into a close stopped bottle, and it will keep for months, as an elegant article on the sideboard for sweetening. CLARY WINE. Boil fifteen gallons of water, with forty-five pounds of sugar, and skim it clean. When cool put a little to a quarter of a pint of yeast, and so by degrees add a little more. In the course of an hour put the smaller to the larger quantity, pour the liquor on clary flowers, picked in the dry: the quantity for the above is twelve quarts. If there be not a sufficient quantity ready to put in at once, more may be added by degrees, keeping an account of each quart. When the liquor ceases to hiss, and the flowers are all in, stop it up for four months. Rack it off, empty the barrel of the dregs, and add a gallon of the best brandy. Return the liquor to the cask, close it up for six or eight weeks, and then bottle it off. CLEANLINESS. Nothing is more conducive to health than cleanliness, and the want of it is a fault which admits of no excuse. It is so agreeable to our nature, that we cannot help approving it in others, even if we do not practise it ourselves. It is an ornament to the highest as well as to the lowest station, and cannot be dispensed with in either: it ought to be cultivated everywhere, especially in populous towns and cities. Frequent washing not only improves the appearance, but promotes perspiration, by removing every impediment on the skin, while at the same time it braces the body, and enlivens the spirits. Washing the feet and legs in lukewarm water, after being exposed to cold and wet, would prevent the ill effects which proceed from these causes, and greatly contribute to health. Diseases of the skin, a very numerous class, are chiefly owing to the want of cleanliness, as well as the various kinds of vermin which infest the human body; and all these might be prevented by a due regard to our own persons. One common cause of putrid and malignant fevers is the want of cleanliness. They usually begin among the inhabitants of close and dirty houses, who breathe unwholesome air, take little exercise, and wear dirty clothes. There the infection is generally hatched, and spreads its desolation far and wide. If dirty people cannot be removed as a common nuisance, they ought at least to be avoided as infectious, and all who regard their own health should keep at a distance from their habitations. Infectious diseases are often communicated by tainted air: every thing therefore which gives a noxious exhalation, or tends to spread infection, should be carefully avoided. In great towns no filth of any kind should be suffered to remain in the streets, and great pains should be taken to keep every dwelling clean both within and without. No dunghills or filth of any kind should be allowed to remain near them. When an infection breaks out, cleanliness is the most likely means to prevent its spreading to other places, or its returning again afterwards. It will lodge a long time in dirty clothes, and be liable to break out again; and therefore the bedding and clothing of the sick ought to be carefully washed, and fumigated with brimstone. Infectious diseases are not only prevented, but even cured by cleanliness; while the slightest disorders, where it is neglected, are often changed into the most malignant. Yet it has so happened, that the same mistaken care which prevents the least admission of fresh air to the sick, has introduced the idea also of keeping them dirty; than which nothing can be more injurious to the afflicted, or more repugnant to common sense. In a room too, where cleanliness is neglected, a person in perfect health has a greater chance to become sick, than a sick person has to get well. It is also of great consequence, that cleanliness should be strictly regarded by those especially who are employed in preparing food; such as butchers, bakers, brewers, dairy maids, and cooks; as negligence in any of these may prove injurious to the public health. Good housekeepers will keep a careful eye on these things, and every person of reflection will see the necessity of cultivating general cleanliness as of great importance to the wellbeing of society. CLEAR BROTH. To make a broth that will keep long, put the mouse round of beef into a deep pan, with a knuckle bone of veal, and a few shanks of mutton. Cover it close with a dish or coarse crust, and bake with as much water as will cover it, till the beef is done enough for eating. When cold, cover it close, and keep it in a cool place. When to be used, give it any flavour most approved. CLEAR GRAVY. Slice some beef thin, broil a part of it over a very clear quick fire, just enough to give a colour to the gravy, but not to dress it. Put that and the raw beef into a very nicely tinned stewpan, with two onions, a clove or two, whole black pepper, berries of allspice, and a bunch of sweet herbs. Cover it with hot water, give it one boil, and skim it well two or three times. Then cover it, and simmer till it be quite strong. CLOTHING. Those who regard their health should be careful to adapt their clothing to the state of the climate, and the season of the year. Whatever be the influence of custom, there is no reason why our clothing should be such as would suit an inhabitant of the torrid or the frigid zones, but of the state of the air around us, and of the country in which we live. Apparel may be warm enough for one season of the year, which is by no means sufficient for another; we ought therefore neither to put off our winter garments too soon, nor wear our summer ones too long. Every change of this sort requires to be made cautiously, and by degrees. In general, all clothes should be light and easy, and in no instance ought health and comfort to be sacrificed to pride and vanity. In the early part of life it is not necessary to wear many clothes: but in the decline of life, when many diseases proceed from a defect of perspiration, plenty of warm clothing is required. Attention should also be paid to the constitution, in this as well as in other cases. Some persons can endure either cold or heat better than others, and may therefore be less mindful of their clothing: the great object is to wear just so many garments as is sufficient to keep the body warm, and no more. Shoes in particular should be easy to the foot, and all tight bandages on every part of the body carefully avoided. CLOUTED CREAM. String four blades of mace on a thread, put them to a gill of new milk, and six spoonfuls of rose water. Simmer a few minutes, then by degrees strain the liquor to the yolks of two eggs well beaten. Stir the whole into a quart of rich cream, and set it over the fire; keep it stirring till hot, but not boiling; pour it into a deep dish, and let it stand twenty-four hours. Serve it in a cream dish, to eat with fruits. Some prefer it without any flavour but that of cream; in which case use a quart of new milk and the cream, or do it as the Devonshire scalded cream. When done enough, a round mark will appear on the surface of the cream, the size of the bottom of the pan, which is called the ring; and when that is seen, remove the pan from the fire. CLYSTER. A common clyster is made of plain gruel strained, and a table-spoonful of oil or salt. A pint is sufficient for a grown person. COCK CHAFFERS. This species of the beetle, sometimes called the May bug, is a formidable enemy to the husbandman, and has been found to swarm in such numbers, as to devour every kind of vegetable production. The insect is first generated in the earth, from the eggs deposited by the fly in its perfect state. In about three months, the insects contained in these eggs break the shell, and crawl forth in the shape of a grub or maggot, which feeds upon the roots of vegetables, and continues in this state of secret annoyance for more than three years, gradually growing to the size of an acorn. It is the thick white maggot with a red head, so frequently found in turning up the soil. At the end of the fourth year, they emerge from the earth, and may be seen in great numbers in the mild evenings of May. The willow seems to be their favourite food; on this they hang in clusters, and seldom quit it till they have completely devoured its foliage. The most effectual way to destroy them, is to beat them off with poles, and then to collect and burn them. The smoke of burning heath, fern, or other weeds, will prevent their incursions in gardens, or expel them if they have entered. COCK ROACHES. These insects, consisting of various species, penetrate into chests and drawers, and do considerable injury to linen, books, and other articles. They seldom appear till night, when they infest beds, and bite very severely, leaving an unpleasant smell. The best remedy is to fill an earthen dish with small beer, sweetened with coarse sugar, and set in the place infested. Lay a board against the pan, to form a kind of ladder, and the insects will ascend and fall into the liquor. COCKLE KETCHUP. Open the cockles, scald them in their own liquor, and add a little water, if there be not enough; but it is better to have a sufficient quantity of cockles, than to dilute it with water. Strain the liquor through a cloth, and season it with savoury spices. If for brown sauce, add port, anchovies, and garlic: a bit of burnt sugar will heighten the colouring. If for white sauce, omit these, and put in a glass of sherry, some lemon juice and peel, mace, nutmeg, and white pepper. COD FISH. In season from the beginning of December till the end of April. To be quite good, the fish should be thick at the neck, the flesh white and firm, the gills very red, and the eyes bright and fresh. When flabby, they are not good. The cod is generally boiled whole; but a large head and shoulders contain all that is relishing, the thinner parts being overdone and tasteless before the thick are ready. But the whole fish may often be purchased more reasonably; and the lower half, if sprinkled and hung up, will be in high perfection one or two days. Or it may be made salter, and served with egg sauce, potatoes, and parsnips. Small cod is usually very cheap. If boiled fresh, it is watery; but eats well if salted and hung up for a day, to give it firmness. Then it should be stuffed and boiled, or it is equally good broiled. COD'S HEAD. The head and shoulders of the cod will eat much finer by having a little salt rubbed down the bone, and along the thick part, even if eaten the same day. Tie it up, put it on the fire in cold water sufficient to cover it, and throw a handful of salt into it. Great care must be taken to serve it up without the smallest speck of black, or scum. Garnish with plenty of double parsley, lemon, horse radish, and the milt, roe and liver, and fried smelts, if approved. If with smelts, no water must be suffered to hang about the fish, or the beauty and flavour of the smelts will be lost. Serve with plenty of oyster or shrimp sauce, anchovy and butter. COD PIE. Take a piece of the middle of a small cod, and salt it well one night. Wash it the next day, season with pepper and salt, mixed with a very little nutmeg. Lay the meat in a dish, with the addition of a little good broth of any kind, and some bits of butter on it. Cover the dish with a crust, and bake it. When done, make a sauce of a spoonful of broth, a quarter of a pint of cream, a little flour and butter, and a dust of grated lemon and nutmeg. Give it one boil, and pour it into the pie. Oysters may be added, but parsley will do instead. Mackarel may be done in the same way, but must not be salted till they are used. COD SOUNDS BOILED. Soak them in warm water half an hour, then scrape and clean them. If to be dressed white, boil them in milk and water. When tender, serve them up in a napkin, with egg sauce. The salt must not be much soaked out, unless for fricassee. COD SOUNDS BROILED. Scald them in hot water, rub well with salt, pull off the dirty skin, and simmer them till tender. Then take them out, flour, and broil them. While this is doing, season a little brown gravy with pepper, salt, a tea-spoonful of soy, and a little mustard. Give it a boil with a little flour and butter, and pour it over the sounds. COD SOUNDS RAGOUT. Having scalded, cleaned, and rubbed them well with salt, stew them in white gravy seasoned. Before they are served, add a little cream, butter and flour, gently boiling up. A bit of lemon peel, nutmeg, and the least pounded mace, will give it a good flavour. COD SOUNDS LIKE CHICKENS. Carefully wash three large sounds, boil them in milk and water, but not too tender. When cold, put a forcemeat of chopped oysters, crumbs of bread, a bit of butter, nutmeg, pepper, salt, and the yolks of two eggs. Spread it thin over the sounds, roll up each in the form of a chicken, and skewer it. Then lard them as chickens, dust a little flour over, and roast them slowly in a tin oven. When done enough, pour over them a fine oyster sauce, and place them on the table as a side or corner dish. CODLINS. This fruit may be kept for several months, if gathered of a middling size at midsummer, and treated in the following manner. Put them into an earthen pan, pour boiling water over them, and cover the pan with cabbage leaves. Keep them by the fire till ready to peel, but do not peel them; then pour off the water, and leave them cold. Place the codlins in a stone jar with a smallish mouth, and pour on the water that scalded them. Cover the pot with bladder wetted and tied very close, and then over it coarse paper tied again. The fruit is best kept in small jars, such as will be used at once when opened. CODLIN CREAM. Pare and core twenty good codlins; beat them in a mortar with a pint of cream, and strain it into a dish. Put to it sugar, bread crumbs, and a glass of wine; and stir it well. CODLIN TART. Scald the fruit, and take off the skin. Put a little of the liquor on the bottom of a dish, lay in the apples whole, and strew them over with Lisbon or fine sugar. When cold, put a paste round the edges, and over the fruit. Moisten the crust with the white of an egg, and strew some fine sugar over it; or cut the lid in quarters, without touching the paste on the edge of the dish. Remove the lid when cold, pour in a good custard, and sift it over with sugar. Another way is to line the bottom of a shallow dish with paste, lay in the scalded fruit, sweeten it, and lay little twists of paste over in bars. COFFEE. Put two ounces of fresh-ground coffee, of the best quality, into a coffee pot, and pour eight coffee cups of boiling water on it. Let it boil six minutes, and return it; then put in two or three chips of isinglass, and pour on it one large spoonful of boiling water. Boil it five minutes more, and set the pot by the fire for ten minutes to keep it hot: the coffee will then be of a beautiful clearness. Fine cream should always be served with coffee, and either pounded sugar-candy, or fine Lisbon sugar. If for foreigners, or those who like it very strong, make only eight dishes from three ounces. If not fresh roasted, lay it before the fire until perfectly hot and dry; or put the smallest bit of fresh butter into a preserving pan, and when hot, throw the coffee into it, and toss it about until it be freshened, but let it be quite cold before it is ground.--But as coffee possesses a raw and astringent quality, which often disagrees with weak stomachs, and by being drank too warm is as frequently rendered unwholesome, the following is recommended as an improved method of preparing it. To an ounce of coffee, add a tea-spoonful of the best flour of mustard, to correct its acidity, and improve its fragrance; and in order to render it truly fine and wholesome, it should be made the evening before it is wanted. Let an ounce of fresh-ground coffee be put into a clean coffee pot well tinned, pour upon it a full pint of boiling water, set it on the fire, and after it has well boiled, let it stand by to settle. Next morning pour off the clear liquor, add to it a pint of new milk, warm it over the fire, and sweeten it to taste. Coffee made in this way, will be found particularly suitable to persons of a weak and delicate habit.--A substitute for foreign coffee may be prepared from the acorns of the oak, by shelling and dividing the kernels, drying and roasting them gradually in a close vessel, and keeping them constantly stirring. Grind it like other coffee, and either use it alone, or mix with it a small quantity of foreign coffee. The seeds of the flower de luce, or common waterflag, being roasted in the same manner as coffee, very much resembles it in colour and flavour. Coffee made of these seeds is extremely wholesome, in the proportion of an ounce to a pint of boiling water. COFFEE CAKES. Melt some fresh butter in a pint of thin cream, and work up with it four pounds of dried flour. Add a pound of sugar, a pint of yeast, and half an ounce of carraways. Stir them all together, set it before the fire to rise, roll the paste out thin, cut it into small cakes, and bake them on buttered paper. COFFEE CREAM. Boil a calf's foot in water till reduced to a pint of jelly, clear of sediment and fat. Make a tea-cupful of strong fresh coffee, clear it perfectly bright with isinglass, and pour it to the jelly. Add a pint of very good cream, sweeten it with fine Lisbon sugar, boil it up once, and pour it into the dish. This article is much admired, but the jelly must not be stiff, and the coffee must be fresh. COFFEE MILK. Boil a dessert-spoonful of ground coffee, in nearly a pint of milk, a quarter of an hour. Then put in a shaving or two of isinglass to clear it; let it boil a few minutes, and set it on the side of the fire to grow fine. This makes a very fine breakfast; it should be sweetened with real Lisbon sugar of a good quality. COLD CAUDLE. Boil a quart of spring water; when cold, add the yolk of an egg, the juice of a small lemon, six spoonfuls of sweet wine, sugar to taste, and syrup of lemons one ounce. COLD FISH. Soles, cod, whitings, or smelts may be cut into bits, and put into scallop shells, with cold oyster, lobster, or shrimp sauce. Having added some bread crumbs, they may be put into a Dutch oven, and browned like scalloped oysters. COLD MEAT. If it be a little underdone, the best way to warm it up is to sprinkle over a little salt, and put it into a Dutch oven at some distance before a gentle fire, that it may warm gradually. Watch it carefully, and keep turning it till it is quite hot and brown, and serve it up with gravy. This is preferable to hashing, as it will retain more of its original flavour. Roast beef or mutton, of course, are best for this purpose. COLD SALLAD. Boil an egg quite hard, put the yolk into a sallad dish, mash it with a spoonful of water, then add a little of the best sallad oil or melted butter, a tea-spoonful of ready-made mustard, and some vinegar. Cut the sallad small and mix it together, adding celery, radishes, or other sallad herbs with it. Onions may be served in a saucer, rather than mixed in the bowl. An anchovy may be washed, cut small, and mixed with it; also a bit of beet root, and the white of an egg. Celery may be prepared in the same way. COLDS. For a bad cold take a large tea-cupful of linseed, two pennyworth of stick liquorice, and a quarter of a pound of sun raisins. Put them into two quarts of water, and let it simmer over a slow fire till reduced one half. Then add a quarter of a pound of sugar-candy pounded, a table-spoonful of rum, and the same of lemon juice or vinegar. The rum and lemon juice are better added when the mixture is taken, or they are apt to grow flat. Take half a pint just warm at bed time. COLLARED BEEF. Choose the thin end of the flank of fine mellow beef, but not too fat: lay it into a dish with salt and saltpetre, turn and rub it every day for a week, and keep it cool. Then take out every bone and gristle, remove the skin of the inside part, and cover it thick with the following seasoning cut small; a large handful of parsley, the same of sage, some thyme, marjoram and pennyroyal, pepper, salt, and allspice. Roll the meat up as tight as possible, and bind it round with a cloth and tape; then boil it gently for seven or eight hours. Put the beef under a good weight while hot, without undoing it: the shape will then be oval. Part of a breast of veal rolled in with the beef, looks and eats very well. COLLARED EEL. Bone a large eel, but do not skin it. Mix up pepper, salt, mace, allspice, and a clove or two, in the finest powder, and rub over the whole inside: roll it tight, and bind it with a coarse tape. Boil it in salt and water till done enough, then add vinegar, and when cold keep the collar in pickle. Serve it either whole or in slices. Chopped parsley, sage, a little thyme, knotted marjoram, and savoury, mixed with the spices, greatly improve the taste. COLLARED MACKAREL. Do them the same as eels, omitting the herbs. COLLARED MUTTON. Take out the bones and gristle of a breast of mutton, lay the meat flat, and rub it over with egg. Mix some grated bread, pounded cloves and mace, pepper, salt, and lemon peel, and strew over it. Two or three anchovies, washed and boned, may be added. Roll the meat up hard, bind it with tape and boil it; or if skewered, it may either be roasted or baked. COLLARED PORK. Bone a breast of pork, and season it with thyme, parsley and sage. Roll it hard, tie it up in a cloth, and boil it. Press it well, take it out of the cloth when cold, and keep it in the liquor it was boiled in. COLLARED PORK'S HEAD. Clean it well, take out the brains, rub it with a handful of salt, and two ounces of saltpetre. Let it lie a fortnight in brine, then wash it, and boil it till the bones will easily come out. Lay it in a dish, take off the skin carefully, take out the bones, and peel the tongue. Mix a handful of sage, a little thyme, and four shalots chopped fine. Put the meat to it, and chop it into pieces about an inch square. Put a thin cloth into an earthen pot, lay in the meat, cover the cloth over, and press it down. Set the pot in the liquor again, boil it nearly an hour longer, then take it out, place a weight on the cover within side, and let it remain all night. Take it out, strip off the cloth, and eat the collar with mustard and vinegar. COLLARED SALMON. Split such part of the fish as may be sufficient to make a handsome roll, wash and wipe it; and having mixed salt, white pepper, pounded mace, and Jamaica pepper, in quantity to season it very high, rub it inside and out well. Then roll it tight and bandage it, put as much water and one third vinegar as will cover it, adding bay leaves, salt, and both sorts of pepper. Cover it close, and simmer till it is done enough. Drain and boil the liquor, put it on when cold, and serve with fennel. It is an elegant dish, and extremely good. COLLARED VEAL. Bone the breast and beat it, rub it with egg, and strew over it a seasoning of pounded mace, nutmeg, pepper and salt, minced parsley, sweet marjoram, lemon peel, crumbs of bread, and an anchovy. Roll it up tight in a cloth, and boil it two hours and a half in salt and water. Hang it up, or press it: make a pickle for it of the liquor it was boiled in, and half the quantity of vinegar. COLLEGE PUDDINGS. Grate the crumb of a two-penny loaf, shred eight ounces of suet, and mix with eight ounces of currants, one of citron mixed fine, one of orange, a handful of sugar, half a nutmeg, three eggs beaten, yolk and white separately. Mix and make into the size and shape of a goose-egg. Put half a pound of butter into a fryingpan; and when melted and quite hot, stew them gently in it over a stove; turn them two or three times, till they are of a fine light brown. Mix a glass of brandy with the batter, and serve with pudding sauce. COLOURING FOR JELLIES. For a beautiful Red, take fifteen grains of cochineal in the finest powder, and a dram and a half of cream of tartar. Boil them in half a pint of water very slowly for half an hour, adding a bit of alum the size of a pea; or use beet root sliced, and some liquor poured over. For White, use cream; or almonds finely powdered, with a spoonful of water. For Yellow, yolks of eggs, or a little saffron steeped in the liquor and squeezed. For Green, spinach or beet leaves bruised and pressed, and the juice boiled to take off the rawness. Any of these will do to stain jellies, ices, or cakes. COLOURING FOR SOUPS. Put four ounces of lump sugar, a gill of water, and half an ounce of fine butter into a small tosser, and set it over a gentle fire. Stir it with a wooden spoon, till of a light brown. Then add half a pint of water; let it boil and skim it well. When cold, bottle and cork it close. Add to either soup or gravy as much of this as will give it a proper colour. COMMON CAKE. Mix three quarters of a pound of flour with half a pound of butter, four ounces of sugar, four eggs, half an ounce of carraways, and a glass of raisin wine. Beat it well, and bake it in a quick oven.--A better sort of common cake may be made of half a pound of butter, rubbed into two pounds of dried flour; then add three spoonfuls of yeast that is not bitter, and work it to a paste. Let it rise an hour and a half; then mix in the yolks and whites of four eggs beaten separately, a pound of Lisbon sugar, about a pint of milk to make it of a proper thickness, a glass of sweet wine, the rind of a lemon, and a tea-spoonful of powdered ginger. A pound of currants, or some carraways may be added, and let the whole be well beaten together. COMMON PLANTS. The virtues of a great number of ordinary plants and weeds being but little understood, they are generally deemed useless; but they have properties nevertheless which might be rendered useful, if carefully and judiciously applied. The young shoots and leaves of chick-weed, for example, may be boiled and eaten like spinach, are equally wholesome, and can scarcely be distinguished from it. The juice expressed from the stem and leaves of goose-grass, taken to the amount of four ounces, night and morning for several weeks, is very efficacious in scorbutic complaints, and other cutaneous eruptions. The smell of garlic is an infallible remedy against the vapours, faintings, and other hysteric affections. The common poppy is an antidote to the stings of venomous insects, and a remedy for inflammation of the eyes: it also cures the pleurisy, and spitting of blood. Sage taken in any form tends to cleanse and enrich the blood: it makes a good cordial, and is highly useful in cases of nervous debility. It is often given in fevers with a view to promote perspiration, and with the addition of a little lemon juice it makes a grateful and cooling beverage. COOL TANKARD. Put into a quart of mild ale a glass of white wine, one of brandy, one of capillaire, the juice of a lemon, and a little piece of the rind. Add a sprig of borage or balm, a bit of toasted bread, and nutmeg grated on the top. COPPER. Many serious accidents have been occasioned by the use of copper in kitchen requisites. The eating of fruit especially that has been prepared in a copper stewpan, where some of the oxide was insensibly imbibed, has been known to produce death; or if coffee grounds are suffered to remain long in a copper coffee-pot, and afterwards mixed with fresh coffee, for the sake of economy, the effects will be highly injurious, if not fatal. The best antidote in such cases, when they unhappily occur, is to take immediately a large spoonful of powdered charcoal, mixed with honey, butter, or treacle; and within two hours afterwards, an emetic or a cathartic to expel the poison. COPPERS. In domestic economy, the necessity of keeping copper vessels always clean, is generally acknowledged; but it may not perhaps be so generally known, that fat and oily substances, and vegetable acids, do not attack copper while hot; and therefore, that if no liquor were suffered to remain and grow cold in copper vessels, they might be used for every culinary purpose with perfect safety. The object is to clean and dry the vessels well before they turn cold. COPYING LETTERS. Dissolve a little sugar in the ink, and write with it as usual. When a copy is required, moisten a piece of unsized paper lightly with a sponge, and apply it to the writing; then smooth the wet paper over with a warm iron, such as is used in a laundry, and the copy is immediately produced without the use of a machine. COPYING PRINTS. Moisten a piece of paper with a solution of soap and alum, lay it on the print or picture, and pass it under a rolling press. Another method is to have a small frame in the form of a basin stand, enclosing a square of glass on the pot, on which the print is laid with the paper upon it; and then placing a candle under the glass, the print may be traced with a pencil, or pen and ink. Impressions may also be transferred by mixing a little vermillion with linseed oil so as to make it fluid; then with a pen dipped in it, trace every line of the print accurately. Turn the print with its face downwards on a sheet of white paper, wet the back of the print, lay another sheet upon it, and press it till the red lines are completely transferred. CORKS. Economy in corks is very unwise: in order to save a mere trifle in the purchase, there is a danger of losing some valuable article which it is intended to preserve. None but velvet taper corks should be used for liquors that are to be kept for any length of time; and when a bottle of ketchup or of anchovy is opened, the cork should be thrown away, and a new one put in that will fit it very tight. If a cork is forced down even with the mouth of the bottle, it is too small, and should be drawn, that a larger one may be put in. CORK CEMENT. Liquors and preserves, intended to be kept a long time, are often spoiled by the clumsy and ineffectual manner in which they are fastened down. Bottles therefore should be secured with the following cement, spread upon the cork after it is cut level with the top of the bottle. Melt in an earthen or iron pot half a pound of black rosin, half a pound of sealing wax, and a quarter of a pound of bees wax. When it froths up, and before all is melted and likely to boil over, stir it with a tallow candle, which will settle the froth till all is melted and fit for use. CORNS. Apply to warts and corns, a piece of soft brown paper moistened with saliva, and a few dressings will remove them. A convenient plaster may also be made of an ounce of pitch, half an ounce of galbanum dissolved in vinegar, one scruple of ammoniac, and a dram and a half of diachylon mixed together. COSTIVENESS. From whatever cause it may arise, frequent exercise in the open air, and abstinence from heating liquors, will be found very beneficial. To those who are afflicted with this complaint, it is particularly recommended that they should visit the customary retreat every morning at a stated hour, that nature may in this respect, by perseverance, acquire a habit of regularity. In obstinate cases, three drams of carbon may be taken two or three times a day, mixed with three ounces of lenitive electuary, and two drams of carbonate of soda, as circumstances may require. Half an ounce of Epsom salts, dissolved in a tumbler or two of cold water, and drank at intervals, will have a very salutary effect. COTTENHAM CHEESE. Though this is so much noted for its superior flavour and delicacy, it does not appear to be owing to any particular management of the dairy, but rather to the fragrance of the herbage on which the cows feed in that part of the country. COUGHS. The extract of malt will be found an excellent remedy for coughs or colds. Pour as much hot water over half a bushel of pale ground malt as will just cover it; the water must not be boiling. In forty-eight hours drain off the liquor entirely, but without squeezing the grains. Put the former into a large sweetmeat pan, or saucepan, that there may be room to boil as quick as possible, without boiling over. When it begins to thicken, stir it constantly, till it becomes as thick as treacle. Take a dessert-spoonful of it three times a day.--Another remedy for a bad cough may be prepared as follows. Mix together a pint of simple mint water, two table-spoonfuls of sallad oil, two tea-spoonfuls of hartshorns, sweetened with sugar, and take two large spoonfuls of the mixture two or three times a day. COURT PLAISTER. Dissolve half an ounce of isinglass in an ounce of water, and boil it till the water is nearly all consumed; then add gradually a dram of Friar's balsam, and stir them well together. Dip a brush in the hot mixture, and spread it on a piece of clean silk. COWS. In the management of cows intended for the dairy, a warm stable or cowhouse is of great importance. Cows kept at pasture will require from one to two acres of land each to keep them during the summer months; but if housed, the produce of one fourth part will be sufficient. Their dung, which would otherwise be wasted on the ground by the action of the sun and weather, is hereby easily preserved, and given to the soil where it is most wanted, and in the best condition. The treading on the grass and pasture, which diminishes its value, is prevented; the expence of division-fences is avoided, and the time and trouble of driving them about is all saved. They are also kept more cool, are less tormented by flies than if pastured, acquire good coats and full flesh, though they consume a much smaller quantity of food. They are in all respects more profitably kept in the house, than out of doors; but they must be regularly and gradually trained to it, or they will not thrive. Cows should always be kept clean, laid dry, and have plenty of good water to drink. They should never be suffered to drink at stagnant pools, or where there are frogs, spawn, or filth of any kind; or from common sewers or ponds that receive the drainings of stables, or such kind of places; all which are exceedingly improper. One of the most effectual means of rendering their milk sweet and wholesome, as well as increasing its quantity, is to let them drink freely of water in which the most fragrant kind of clover or lucern has been steeped: and if they are curried in the same manner as horses, they will not only receive pleasure from it, but give their milk more freely. In Holland, where the greatest attention is paid to all kinds of domestic animals, the haunches of dairy cows are washed morning and evening with warm water previous to milking, and after calving are clothed with sacking. The floors of their cowhouses are paved with brick, with a descent in the middle, where a gutter carries off the drain, and the place is kept perfectly clean with a broom and pails of water. The filthy state in which cows are confined in the vicinity of London, and other large cities, and the manner in which they are literally crammed, not with wholesome food, but with such things as are calculated to produce an abundance of milk, cannot be too severely reprobated as injurious to the public health. It is also notorious, that vessels of hot and cold water are always kept in these cowhouses for the accommodation of mercenary retailers, who purchase a quantity of milk at a low price, and then mix it with such a proportion of water as they think necessary to reduce it to a proper standard; when it is hawked about at an exorbitant price. The milk is not pure in its original state, and being afterwards adulterated, it is scarcely fit for any purpose in a family. The first object in the article of food, is wholesomeness; and grass growing spontaneously on good meadow-land is in general deemed most proper for cows intended to supply the dairy. The quantity of milk produced by those which feed on sainfoin is however nearly double to that of any other provender: it is also richer in quality, and will yield a larger quantity of cream: of course the butter will be better coloured and flavoured than any other. Turnips and carrots form an excellent article, and cannot be too strongly recommended, especially as a winter food; but they should be cleaned and cut; and parsnips, with the tops taken off will produce abundance of milk, of a superior quality; and cows will eat them freely though they are improper for horses. Of all vegetable productions, perhaps the cabbage is the most exuberant for this purpose, and ought by all means to be encouraged. The drum-headed cabbage, and the hardy variety of a deep green colour with purple veins, and of the same size with the drum-head, are particularly useful in the feeding of cows, and afford an increase of milk far superior to that produced by turnips. They are also excellent for the fattening of cattle, which they will do six weeks sooner than any other vegetables, though the cabbage plant is generally supposed to impart a disagreeable flavour to butter and cheese made from the milk of cows fed upon it, yet this may easily be prevented by putting a gallon of boiling water to six gallons of milk, when it is standing in the trays; or by dissolving an ounce of saltpetre in a quart of spring water, and mixing about a quarter of a pint of it with ten or twelve gallons of milk as it comes from the cow. By breaking off the loose leaves, and giving only the sound part to the cows, this disagreeable quality may also be avoided, as other cattle will eat the leaves without injury. When a cow has been milked for several years, and begins to grow old, the most advantageous way is to make her dry. To effect this, bruise six ounces of white rosin, and dissolve it in a quart of water. The cow having been housed, should then be bled and milked; and after the mixture has been administered, she should be turned into good grass. She is no longer to be milked, but fattened on rich vegetables. Cows intended for breeding, should be carefully selected from those which give plenty of milk. During three months previously to calving, if in the spring, they should be turned into sweet grass; or if it happen in the winter, they ought to be well fed with the best hay. The day and night after they have calved, they should be kept in the house, and lukewarm water only allowed for their drink. They may be turned out the next day, if the weather be warm, but regularly taken in for three or four successive nights; or if the weather be damp and cold, it is better to girt them round with sacking, or keep them wholly within. Cows thus housed should be kept in every night, till the morning cold is dissipated, and a draught of warm water given them previously to their going to the field. If the udder of a milking cow becomes hard and painful, it should be fomented with warm water and rubbed with a gentle hand. Or if the teats are sore, they should be soaked in warm water twice a day; and either be dressed with soft ointment, or done with spirits and water. If the former, great cleanliness is necessary: the milk at these times is best given to the pigs. Or if a cow be injured by a blow or wound, the part affected should be suppled several times a day with fresh butter; or a salve prepared of one ounce of Castile soap dissolved in a pint and a half of fresh milk over a slow fire, stirring it constantly, to form a complete mixture. But if the wound should turn to an obstinate ulcer, take Castile soap, gum ammoniac, gum galbanum, and extract of hemlock, each one ounce; form them into eight boluses, and administer one of them every morning and evening. To prevent cows from sucking their own milk, as some of them are apt to do, rub the teats frequently with strong rancid cheese, which will prove an effectual remedy. COW HEELS. These are very nutricious, and may be variously dressed. The common way is to boil, and serve them in a napkin, with melted butter, mustard, and a large spoonful of vinegar. Or broil them very tender, and serve them as a brown fricassee. The liquor will do to make jelly sweet or relishing and likewise to give richness to soups or gravies. Another way is to cut them into four parts, to dip them into an egg, and then dredge and fry them. They may be garnished with fried onions, and served with sauce as above. Or they may be baked as for mock turtle. COWSLIP MEAD. Put thirty pounds of honey into fifteen gallons of water, and boil till one gallon is wasted; skim it, and take it off the fire. Have a dozen and a half of lemons ready quartered, pour a gallon of the liquor boiling hot upon them, and the remainder into a tub, with seven pecks of cowslip pips. Let them remain there all night; then put the liquor and the lemons to eight spoonfuls of new yeast, and a handful of sweet-briar. Stir all well together, and let it work for three or four days; then strain and tun it into a cask. Let it stand six months, and bottle it for keeping. COWSLIP WINE. To every gallon of water, weigh three pounds of lump sugar; boil them together half an hour, and take off the scum as it rises. When sufficiently cool, put to it a crust of toasted bread dipped in thick yeast, and let the liquor ferment in the tub thirty six hours. Then put into the cask intended for keeping it, the peel of two and the rind of one lemon, for every gallon of liquor; also the peel and the rind of one Seville orange, and one gallon of cowslip pips. Pour the liquor upon them, stir it carefully every day for a week, and for every five gallons put in a bottle of brandy. Let the cask be close stopped, and stand only six weeks before it be bottled off. CRABS. The heaviest are best, and those of a middling size the sweetest. If light they are watery: when in perfection the joints of the legs are stiff, and the body has a very agreeable smell. The eyes look dead and loose when stale. The female crab is generally preferred: the colour is much brighter, the claws are shorter, and the apron in front is much broader. To dress a hot crab, pick out the meat, and clear the shell from the head. Put the meat into the shell again, with a little nutmeg, salt, pepper, a bit of butter, crumbs of bread, and three spoonfuls of vinegar. Then set the crab before the fire, or brown the meat with a salamander. It should be served on a dry toast.--To dress a cold crab, empty the shell, mix the flesh with a small quantity of oil, vinegar, salt, white pepper and cayenne. Return the mixture, and serve it up in the shell. CRACKNELS. Mix with a quart of flour, half a nutmeg grated, the yolks of four eggs beaten, and four spoonfuls of rose water. Make the whole into a stiff paste, with cold water. Then roll in a pound of butter, and make the paste into the shape of cracknels. Boil them in a kettle of water till they swim, and then put them into cold water. When hardened, lay them out to dry, and bake them on tin plates. CRACKNUTS. Mix eight ounces of fine flour, with eight ounces of sugar, and melt four ounces of butter in two spoonfuls of raisin wine. With four eggs beaten and strained, make the whole into a paste, and add carraway seed. Roll the paste out as thin as paper, cut it into shapes with the top of a glass, wash them with the white of an egg, and dust them over with fine sugar. CRAMP. Persons subject to this complaint, being generally attacked in the night, should have a board fixed at the bottom of the bed, against which the foot should be strongly pressed when the pain commences. This will seldom fail to afford relief. When it is more obstinate, a brick should be heated, wrapped in a flannel bag at the bottom of the bed, and the foot placed against it. The brick will continue warm, and prevent a return of the complaint. No remedy however is more safe or more certain than that of rubbing the affected part, to restore a free circulation. If the cramp attack the stomach or bowels, it is attended with considerable danger: medicine may relieve but cannot cure. All hot and stimulating liquors must be carefully avoided, and a tea-cupful of lukewarm gruel or camomile tea should be frequently given, with ten or fifteen drops of deliquidated salt of tartar in each. CRANBERRIES. If for puddings and pies, they require a good deal of sugar. If stewed in a jar, it is the same: but in this way they eat well with bread, and are very wholesome. If pressed and strained, after being stewed, they yield a fine juice, which makes an excellent drink in a fever. CRANBERRY GRUEL. Mash a tea-cupful of cranberries in a cup of water, and boil a large spoonful of oatmeal in two quarts of water. Then put in the jam, with a little sugar and lemon peel; boil it half an hour, and strain it off. Add a glass of brandy or sweet wine. CRANBERRY JELLY. Make a very strong isinglass jelly. When cold, mix it with a double quantity of cranberry juice, pressed and strained. Sweeten it with fine loaf sugar, boil it up, and strain it into a shape.--To make cranberry and rice jelly, boil and press the fruit, strain the juice, and by degrees mix it into as much ground rice as will, when boiled, thicken to a jelly. Boil it gently, keep it stirring, and sweeten it. Put it in a bason or form, and serve it up with milk or cream. CRAY FISH. Make a savoury fish-jelly, and put some into the bottom of a deep small dish. When cold, lay the cray-fish with their back downwards, and pour more jelly over them. Turn them out when cold, and it will make a beautiful dish. Prawns may be done in the same way. CREAM. Rich cream for tea or coffee is prepared in the following manner. Put some new milk into an earthen pan, heat it over the fire, and set it by till the next day. In order to preserve it a day or two longer, it must be scalded, sweetened with lump sugar, and set in a cool place. If half a pint of fresh cream be boiled in an earthen pot with half a pound of sugar, and corked up close in phials when cold, it will keep for several weeks, and be fit for the tea-table. CREAM FOR PIES. Boil a pint of new milk ten minutes, with a bit of lemon peel, a laurel leaf, four cloves, and a little sugar. Mix the yolks of six eggs and half a tea-spoonful of flour, strain the milk to them, and set it over a slow fire. Stir it to a consistence, but do not let it curdle: when cold it may be spread over any kind of fruit pies. CREAM FOR WHEY BUTTER. Set the whey one day and night, and skim it till a sufficient quantity is obtained. Then boil it, and pour it into a pan or two of cold water. As the cream rises, skim it till no more comes, and then churn it. Where new-milk cheese is made daily, whey butter for common and present use may be made to advantage. CREAM CHEESE. To make this article, put into a pan five quarts of strippings, that is, the last of the milk, with two spoonfuls of rennet. When the curd is come, strike it down two or three times with the skimming dish just to break it. Let it stand two hours, then spread a cheese cloth on a sieve, lay the curd on it, and let the whey drain. Break the curd a little with the hand, and put it into a vat with a two-pound weight upon it. Let it stand twelve hours, take it out, and bind a fillet round. Turn it every day till dry, from one board to another; cover them with nettles or clean dock-leaves, and lay them between two pewter plates to ripen. If the weather be warm, the cheese will be ready in three weeks.--Another way. Prepare a kettle of boiling water, put five quarts of new milk into a pan, five pints of cold water, and five of hot. When of a proper heat, put in as much rennet as will bring it in twenty minutes, likewise a bit of sugar. When the curd is come, strike the skimmer three or four times down, and leave it on the curd. In an hour or two lade it into the vat without touching it; put a two-pound weight on it when the whey has run from it, and the vat is full.--To make another sort of cream cheese, put as much salt to three pints of raw cream as will season it. Stir it well, lay a cheese cloth several times folded at the bottom of a sieve, and pour the curd upon it. When it hardens, cover it with nettles on a pewter plate.--What is called Rush Cream Cheese is made as follows. To a quart of fresh cream put a pint of new milk, warm enough to give the cream a proper degree of warmth; then add a little sugar and rennet. Set it near the fire till the curd comes; fill a vat made in the form of a brick, of wheat straw or rushes sewed together. Have ready a square of straw or rushes sewed flat, to rest the vat on, and another to cover it; the vat being open at top and bottom. Next day take it out, change it often in order to ripen, and lay a half pound weight upon it.--Another way. Take a pint of very thick sour cream from the top of the pan for gathering butter, lay a napkin on two plates, and pour half into each. Let them stand twelve hours, then put them on a fresh wet napkin in one plate, and cover with the same. Repeat this every twelve hours, till the cheese begins to look dry. Then ripen it with nut leaves, and it will be ready in ten days. Fresh nettles, or two pewter plates, will ripen cream cheese very well. CREAM PUDDING. Slice the crumb of a penny loaf into a quart of cream, scald it over the fire, and break it with a spoon. Add to it six eggs, with three of the whites only, half a pound of fine raisins, a quarter of a pound of sugar, a little rose water and nutmeg. Beat it all up together, stir in a little marrow if approved, and bake it in a dish with paste. CREAMS. To make an excellent cream, boil half a pint of cream and half a pint of milk with two bay leaves, a bit of lemon peel, a few almonds beaten to paste, with a drop of water, a little sugar, orange flower water, and a tea-spoonful of flour rubbed down with a little cold milk. When the cream is cold, add a little lemon juice, and serve it up in cups or lemonade glasses.--For a superior article, whip up three quarters of a pint of very rich cream to a strong froth, with some finely-scraped lemon peel, a squeeze of the juice, half a glass of sweet wine, and sugar to make it pleasant, but not too sweet. Lay it on a sieve or in a form, next day put it on a dish, and ornament it with very light puff paste biscuits, made in tin shapes the length of a finger, and about two thick. Fine sugar may be sifted over, or it may be glazed with a little isinglass. Macaroons may be used to line the edges of the dish. CRESS VINEGAR. Dry and pound half an ounce of the seed of garden cresses, pour upon it a quart of the best vinegar, and let it steep ten days, shaking it up every day. Being strongly flavoured with the cresses, it is suitable for salads and cold meat. Celery vinegar is made in the same manner. CRICKETS. The fume of charcoal will drive them away: or a little white arsenic mixed with a roasted apple, and put into the holes and cracks where the crickets are, will effectually destroy them. Scotch snuff dusted upon the holes where they come out, will also have the same effect. CRIMP COD. Boil a handful of salt in a gallon of pump water, and skim it clean. Cut a fresh cod into slices an inch thick, and boil it briskly in the brine a few minutes; take the slices out very carefully, and lay them on a fish plate to drain. Dry and flour them, and lay them at a distance upon a clear fire to broil. Serve with lobster or shrimp sauce. CRIMP SALMON. When the salmon is scaled and cleaned, take off the head and tail, and cut the body through into large slices. Throw them into a pan of pump water, sprinkle on a handful of bay salt, stir it about, and then take out the fish. Set on a deep stewpan, boil the head and tail whole, put in some salt, but no vinegar. When they have boiled ten minutes, skim the water clean, and put in the slices. When boiled enough, lay the head and tail in the dish, and the slices round; or either part may be dressed separately. CRISP PARSLEY. Pick and wash some young parsley, shake it in a dry cloth to drain the water from it, spread it on a sheet of white paper, in a Dutch oven before the fire, and turn it frequently until it is quite crisp. This is a much better way of preparing it than by frying, which is seldom well done; and it will serve as a neat garnish for fish or lamb chops. CROSS BUNS. Warm before the fire two pounds and a half of fine flour; add half a pound of sifted loaf sugar, some coriander seeds, cinnamon and mace finely pounded. Melt half a pound of butter in half a pint of milk; after it has cooled, stir in three table-spoonfuls of thick yeast, and a little salt. Work the whole into a paste, make it into buns, and cut a cross on the top. Put them on a tin to rise before the fire, brush them over with warm milk, and bake in a moderate oven. CROWS. These birds are extremely useful to the farmer, in devouring multitudes of locusts, caterpillars, and other insects, which are highly injurious to the crops; but at certain seasons they have become so numerous, and committed such depredations on the corn fields, that an act of parliament has been passed for their destruction. The most successful method is to prepare a kind of table between the branches of a large tree, with some carrion and other meat, till the crows are accustomed to resort to the place for food. Afterwards the meat may be poisoned; and the birds still feeding on it, will be destroyed. The drug called _nux vomica_ is best adapted to the purpose. CRUMPETS. Warm before the fire two pounds of fine flour, with a little salt, and mix it with warm milk and water till it becomes stiff. Work up three eggs with three spoonfuls of thick yeast, and a cupful of warm milk and water; put it to the batter, and beat them well together in a large bowl, with as much milk and water as will make the batter thick. Set it before the fire to rise, and cover it close. Set on the fryingpan, rub it over with a bit of butter tied up in muslin, and pour in as much batter at a time as is sufficient for one crumpet. Let it bake slowly till it comes to a pale yellow; and when cold, the crumpets may be toasted and buttered. CUCUMBERS. The best way of cultivating this delicious vegetable is as follows. When the plants have been raised on a moderate hot bed, without forcing them too much, they should be set in the open ground against a south wall in the latter end of May, and trained upon the wall like a fruit tree. When they have run up about five feet, they will send forth blossoms, and the fruit will soon appear. Cucumbers of the slender prickly sort are to be preferred, and they should not be watered too much while growing, as it will injure the fruit. The flesh of cucumbers raised in this way, will be thicker and firmer, and the flavour more delicious, than those planted in the usual manner, where the runners are suffered to trail upon the ground. Melons may also be treated in the same manner, and the quality of both will be greatly improved.--When cucumbers are to be prepared for the table, pare and score them in several rows, that they may appear as if slightly chopped. Add some young onions, pepper and salt, a glass of white wine, the juice of a lemon, and some vinegar. Or cut them in thin slices, with pepper, salt, vinegar, and sliced onions. Or send them to table whole, with a sliced onion in a saucer. CUCUMBER KETCHUP. Pare some large old cucumbers, cut them in slices, and mash them; add some salt, and let them stand till the next day. Drain off the liquor, boil it with lemon peel, mace, cloves, horse-radish, shalots, white pepper, and ginger. Strain it; and when cold put it into bottles, with the mace, cloves and peppercorns, but not the rest. A little of this ketchup will give an agreeable taste to almost any kind of gravy sauce. CUCUMBER VINEGAR. Pare and slice fifteen large cucumbers, and put them into a stone jar, with three pints of vinegar, four large onions sliced, two or three shalots, a little garlic, two large spoonfuls of salt, three tea-spoonfuls of pepper, and half a tea-spoonful of cayenne. Keep the vinegar in small bottles, to add to sallad, or to eat with meat. CULLIS. To make cullis for ragouts, cut in pieces two pounds of lean veal, and two ounces of ham. Add two cloves, a little nutmeg and mace, some parsley roots, two carrots sliced, some shalots, and two bay leaves. Put them into an earthen jar on a hot hearth, or in a kettle of boiling water. Cover them close, let them simmer for half an hour, observing that they do not burn; then put in beef broth, stew it, and strain it off. CUMBERLAND PUDDING. To make what is called the Duke of Cumberland's pudding, mix six ounces of grated bread, the same quantity of currants well cleaned and picked, the same of beef suet finely shred, the same of chopped apples, and also of lump sugar. Add six eggs, half a grated nutmeg, a dust of salt, and the rind of a lemon minced as fine as possible; also a large spoonful each of citron, orange, and lemon cut thin. Mix them thoroughly together, put the whole into a basin, cover it close with a floured cloth, and boil it three hours. Serve it with pudding sauce, add the juice of half a lemon, boiled together. CURD PUDDING. Rub the curd of two gallons of milk well drained through a sieve. Mix it with six eggs, a little cream, two spoonfuls of orange-flower water, half a nutmeg, flour and crumbs of bread each three spoonfuls, currants and raisins half a pound of each. Boil the pudding an hour in a thick well-floured cloth. CURD PUFFS. Turn two quarts of milk to curd, press the whey from it, rub it through a sieve, and mix four ounces of butter, the crumb of a penny loaf, two spoonfuls of cream, half a nutmeg, a little sugar, and two spoonfuls of white wine. Butter some small cups or pattipans, and fill them three parts. Orange-flower water is an improvement. Bake the puffs with care, and serve with sweet sauce in a boat. CURD STAR. Set on the fire a quart of new milk, with two or three blades of mace; and when ready to boil, put to it the yolks and whites of nine eggs well beaten, and as much salt as will lie upon a six-pence. Let it boil till the whey is clear; then drain it in a thin cloth, or hair sieve. Season it with sugar, and a little cinnamon, rose water, orange-flower water, or white wine. Put it into a star form, and let it stand some hours before it be turned into a dish: then pour round it some thick cream or custard. CURDS AND CREAM. Put three or four pints of milk into a pan a little warm, and then add rennet or gallina. When the curd is come, lade it with a saucer into an earthen shape perforated, of any form you please. Fill it up as the whey drains off, without breaking or pressing the curd. If turned only two hours before wanted, it is very light; but those who like it harder may have it so, by making it earlier, and squeezing it. Cream, milk, or a whip of cream, sugar, wine, and lemon, may be put into the dish, or into a glass bowl, to serve with the curd.--Another way is to warm four quarts of new milk, and add a pint or more of buttermilk strained, according to its sourness. Keep the pan covered till the curd be sufficiently firm to cut, three or four times across with a saucer, as the whey leaves it. Put it into a shape, and fill up until it be solid enough to take the form. Serve with plain cream, or mixed with sugar, wine and lemon. CURDS AND WHEY. According to the Italian method, a more delicate and tender curd is made without the use of common rennet. Take a number of the rough coats that line the gizzards of turkeys and fowls, clean them from the pebbles they contain, rub them well with salt, and hang them up to dry. When to be used, break off some bits of the skin, and pour on some boiling water. In eight or nine hours the liquor may be used as other rennet. CURING BUTTER. It is well known, that butter as it is generally cured, does not keep for any length of time, without spoiling or becoming rancid. The butter with which London is supplied, may be seen at every cheesemonger's in the greatest variety of colour and quality; and it is too often the case, that even the worst butter is compounded with better sorts, in order to procure a sale. These practices ought to be discountenanced, and no butter permitted to be sold but such as is of the best quality when fresh, and well cured when salted, as there is hardly any article more capable of exciting disgust than bad butter. To remedy this evil, the following process is recommended, in preparing butter for the firkin. Reduce separately to fine powder in a dry mortar, two pounds of the whitest common salt, one pound of saltpetre, and one pound of lump sugar. Sift these ingredients one upon another, on two sheets of paper joined together, and then mix them well with the hands, or with a spatula. Preserve the whole in a covered jar, placed in a dry situation. When required to be used, one ounce of this composition is to be proportioned to every pound of butter, and the whole is to be well worked into the mass. The butter may then be put into pots or casks in the usual way. The above method is practised in many parts of Scotland, and is found to preserve the butter much better than by using common salt alone. Any housekeeper can make the experiment, by proportioning the ingredients to the quantity of butter; and the difference between the two will readily be perceived. Butter cured with this mixture appears of a rich marrowy consistency and fine colour, and never acquires a brittle hardness, nor tastes salt, as the other is apt to do. It should be allowed to stand three weeks or a month before it is used, and will keep for two or three years, without sustaining the slightest injury. Butter made in vessels or troughs lined with lead, or in glazed earthenware pans, which glaze is principally composed of lead, is too apt to be contaminated by particles of that deleterious metal. It is better therefore to use tinned vessels for mixing the preservative with the butter, and to pack it either in wooden casks, or in jars of the Vauxhall ware, which being vitrified throughout, require no inside glazing. CURING HAMS. When hams are to be cured, they should hang a day or two; then sprinkle them with a little salt, and drain them another day. Pound an ounce and a half of saltpetre, the same quantity of bay salt, half an ounce of sal-prunelle, and a pound of the coarsest sugar. Mix these well, and rub them into each ham every day for four days, and turn it. If a small one, turn it every day for three weeks: if a large one, a week longer, but it should not be rubbed after four days. Before it is dried, drain and cover it with bran, and smoke it ten days.--Or choose the leg of a hog that is fat and well fed, and hang it up a day or two. If large, put to it a pound of bay salt, four ounces of saltpetre, a pound of the coarsest sugar, and a handful of common salt, all in fine powder, and rub the mixture well into the ham. Lay the rind downwards, and cover the fleshy part with the salts. Baste it frequently with the pickle, and turn it every day for a month. Drain and throw bran over it, then hang it in a chimney where wood is burnt, and turn it now and then for ten days.--Another way is, to hang up the ham, and sprinkle it with salt, and then to rub it daily with the following mixture. Half a pound of common salt, the same of bay salt, two ounces of saltpetre, and two ounces of black pepper, incorporated with a pound and a half of treacle. Turn it twice a day in the pickle for three weeks; then lay it into a pail of water for one night, wipe it quite dry, and smoke it two or three weeks.--To give hams a high flavour, let them hang three days, when the weather will permit. Mix an ounce of saltpetre with a quarter of a pound of bay salt, the same quantity of common salt, and also of coarse sugar, and a quart of strong beer. Boil them together, pour the liquor immediately upon the ham, and turn it twice a day in the pickle for three weeks. An ounce of black pepper, and the same quantity of allspice, in fine powder, added to the above will give a still higher flavour. Wipe and cover it with bran, smoke it three or four weeks; and if there be a strong fire, it should be sewed up in a coarse wrapper.--To give a ham a still higher flavour, sprinkle it with salt, after it has hung two or three days, and let it drain. Make a pickle of a quart of strong beer, half a pound of treacle, an ounce of coriander seed, two ounces of juniper berries, an ounce of pepper, the same quantity of allspice, an ounce of saltpetre, half an ounce of sal-prunelle, a handful of common salt, and a head of shalot, all pounded or cut fine. Boil these together for a few minutes, and pour them over the ham. This quantity is sufficient for a ham of ten pounds. Rub and turn it every day for a fortnight; then sew it up in a thin linen bag, and smoke it three weeks. Drain it from the pickle, and rub it in bran, before drying. In all cases it is best to lay on a sufficient quantity of salt at first, than to add more afterwards, for this will make the ham salt and hard. When it has lain in pickle a few days, it would be advantageous to boil and skim the brine, and pour it on again when cold. Bacon, pig's face, and other articles may be treated in the same manner. CURRANT CREAM. Strip and bruise some ripe currants, strain them through a fine sieve, and sweeten the juice with refined sugar. Beat up equal quantities of juice and cream, and as the froth rises put it into glasses. CURRANT FRITTERS. Thicken half a pint of ale with flour, and add some currants. Beat it up quick, make the lard boil in the frying-pan, and put in a large spoonful of the batter at a time, which is sufficient for one fritter. CURRANT GRUEL. Make a pint of water gruel, strain and boil it with a table-spoonful of clean currants till they are quite plump. Add a little nutmeg and sugar, and a glass of sweet wine. This gruel is proper for children, or persons of a costive habit. CURRANT JAM. Whether it be made of black, red, or white currants, let the fruit be very ripe. Pick it clean from the stalks, and bruise it. To every pound put three quarters of a pound of loaf sugar, stir it well, and boil it half an hour. CURRANT JELLY. Strip the fruit, whether red or black, and put them into a stone jar, to boil on a hot hearth, or over the fire in a saucepan of water. Strain off the liquor, and to every pint add a pound of loaf sugar in large lumps. Put the whole into a china or stone jar, till nearly dissolved; then put it into a preserving pan, and skim it while simmering on the fire. When it will turn to jelly on a plate, keep it in small jars or glasses. CURRANT PIE. Put a paste round the dish, fill it with fruit and good moist sugar, add a little water, and cover it with paste. Place a tea-cup in the dish, bottom upwards, to prevent the juice from boiling over. Baked currants are better mixed with raspberries or damsons. CURRANT SAUCE. To make the old sauce for venison, boil an ounce of dried currants in half a pint of water a few minutes. Then add a small tea-cupful of bread crumbs, six cloves, a glass of port wine, and a bit of butter. Stir it till the whole is smooth. CURRANT SHRUB. Strip some white currants, and prepare them in a jar as for jelly. Strain the juice, of which put two quarts to one gallon of rum, and two pounds of lump sugar. Strain the whole through a jelly bag. CURRANT WINE. To every three pints of fruit, carefully picked and bruised, add one quart of water. In twenty-four hours strain the liquor, and put to every quart a pound of good Lisbon sugar. If for white currants use lump sugar. It is best to put the whole into a large pan; and when in three or four days the scum rises, take that off before the liquor be put into the barrel. Those who make from their own gardens, may not have fruit sufficient to fill the barrel at once; but the wine will not be hurt by being made in the pan at different times, in the above proportions, and added as the fruit ripens; but it must be gathered in dry weather, and an account taken of what is put in each time.--Another way. Put five quarts of currants, and a pint of raspberries, to every two gallons of water. Let them soak all night, then squeeze and break them well. Next day rub them well on a fine wire sieve, till all the juice is obtained, and wash the skins again with some of the liquor. To every gallon put four pounds of good Lisbon sugar, tun it immediately, lay the bung lightly on, and leave it to ferment itself. In two or three days put a bottle of brandy to every four gallons, bung it close, but leave the vent peg out a few days. Keep it three years in the cask, and it will be a fine agreeable wine; four years would make it still better.--Black Currant Wine is made as follows. To every three quarts of juice add the same quantity of water, and to every three quarts of the liquor put three pounds of good moist sugar. Tun it into a cask, reserving a little for filling up. Set the cask in a warm dry room, and the liquor will ferment of itself. When the fermentation is over, take off the scum, and fill up with the reserved liquor, allowing three bottles of brandy to forty quarts of wine. Bung it close for nine months, then bottle it; drain the thick part through a jelly bag, till that also be clear and fit for bottling. The wine should then be kept ten or twelve months. CURRIES. Cut fowls or rabbits into joints; veal, lamb or sweetbreads into small pieces. Put four ounces of butter into a stewpan; when melted, put in the meat, and two sliced onions. Stew them to a nice brown, add half a pint of broth, and let it simmer twenty minutes. Mix smooth in a basin one table-spoonful of currie powder, one of flour, and a tea-spoonful of salt, with a little cold water. Put the paste into the stewpan, shake it well about till it boils, and let it simmer twenty minutes longer. Just before it is dished up, squeeze in the juice of half a lemon, and add a good table-spoonful of melted butter. CURRIE BALLS. Take some bread crumbs, the yolk of an egg boiled hard, and a bit of fresh butter about half the size; beat them together in a mortar, season with a little currie powder, roll the paste into small balls, and boil them two or three minutes. These will serve for mock turtle, veal, poultry, and made dishes. CURRIE OF COD. This should be made of sliced cod, that has either been crimped, or sprinkled with salt for a day, to make it firm. Fry it of a fine brown with onions, and stew it with a good white gravy, a little currie powder, a bit of butter and flour, three or four spoonfuls of rich cream, salt, and cayenne, if the powder be not hot enough. CURRIE OF LOBSTERS. Take them from the shells, lay them into a pan with a small piece of mace, three or four spoonfuls of veal gravy, and four of cream. Rub smooth one or two tea-spoonfuls of currie powder, a tea-spoonful of flour, and an ounce of butter. Simmer them together an hour, squeeze in half a lemon, and add a little salt. Currie of prawns is made in the same way. CURRIE POWDER. Dry and reduce the following articles to a fine powder. Three ounces of coriander seed, three ounces of turmeric, one ounce of black pepper, and one of ginger; half an ounce of lesser cardamoms, and a quarter of an ounce each of cinnamon, cummin seed, and cayenne. Thoroughly pound and mix them together, and keep it in a well-stopped bottle. CURRIE SAUCE. Stir a small quantity of currie powder in some gravy, melted butter, or onion sauce. This must be done by degrees, according to the taste, taking care not to put in too much of the currie powder. CURRIE SOUP. Cut four pounds of a breast of veal into small pieces, put the trimmings into a stewpan with two quarts of water, twelve peppercorns, and the same of allspice. When it boils, skim it clean; and after boiling an hour and a half, strain it off. While it is boiling, fry the bits of veal in butter, with four onions. When they are done, add the broth to them, and put it on the fire. Let it simmer half an hour, then mix two spoonfuls of currie powder, and the same of flour, with a little cold water and a tea-spoonful of salt, and add these to the soup. Simmer it gently till the veal is quite tender, and it is ready. Or bone a couple of fowls or rabbits, and stew them in the same manner. Instead of black pepper and allspice, a bruised shalot may be added, with some mace and ginger. CUSTARDS. To make a cheap and excellent custard, boil three pints of new milk with a bit of lemon peel, a bit of cinnamon, two or three bay leaves, and sweeten it. Meanwhile rub down smooth a large spoonful of rice flour in a cup of cold milk, and mix with it the yolks of two eggs well beaten. Take a basin of the boiling milk and mix with the cold, then pour it to the boiling, stirring it one way till it begin to thicken, and is just going to boil up; then pour it into a pan, stir it some time, add a large spoonful of peach water, two spoonfuls of brandy, or a little ratafia. Marbles boiled in custard, or any thing likely to burn, will prevent it from catching if shaked about in the saucepan.--To make a richer custard, boil a pint of milk with lemon peel and cinnamon. Mix a pint of cream, and the yolks of five eggs well beaten. When the milk tastes of the seasoning, sweeten it enough for the whole; pour into the cream, stirring it well; then give the custard a simmer, till it come to a proper thickness. Stir it wholly one way, season it as above, but do not let it boil. If the custard is to be very rich, add a quart of cream to the eggs instead of milk. CUSTARD PASTE. Six ounces of butter, three spoonfuls of cream, the yolks of two eggs, and half a pound of flour, are to be mixed well together. Let it stand a quarter of an hour, work it well, and roll it out thin. CUSTARD PUDDING. Mix by degrees a pint of good milk with a large spoonful of flour, the yolks of five eggs, some orange-flower water, and a little pounded cinnamon. Butter a bason that will just hold it, pour in the batter, and tie a floured cloth over. Put it in when the water boils, turn it about a few minutes to prevent the egg settling on one side, and half an hour will boil it. Put currant jelly over the pudding, and serve it with sweet sauce. CUTLETS MAINTENON. Cut slices of veal three quarters of an inch thick, beat them with a rolling-pin, and wet them on both sides with egg. Dip them into a seasoning of bread crumbs, parsley, thyme, knotted marjoram, pepper, salt, and a little grated nutmeg. Then put them into white papers folded over, and broil them. Have ready some melted butter in a boat, with a little mushroom ketchup.--Another way is to fry the cutlets, after they have been prepared as above. Dredge a little flour into the pan, and add a piece of butter; brown it, pour in a little boiling water, and boil it quick. Season with pepper, salt, and ketchup, and pour over them.--Or, prepare as before, and dress the cutlets in a Dutch oven. Pour over them melted butter and mushrooms. Neck steaks especially are good broiled, after being seasoned with pepper and salt; and in this way they do not require any herbs. CUTTING GLASS. If glass be held in one hand under water, and a pair of scissors in the other, it may be cut like brown paper; or if a red hot tobacco pipe be brought in contact with the edge of the glass, and afterwards traced on any part of it, the crack will follow the edge of the pipe. CUTTING OF TEETH. Great care is required in feeding young children during the time of teething. They often cry as if disgusted with food, when it is chiefly owing to the pain occasioned by the edge of a silver or metal spoon pressing on their tender gums. The spoon ought to be of ivory, bone, or wood, with the edges round and smooth, and care should be taken to keep it sweet and clean. At this period a moderate looseness, and a copious flow of saliva, are favourable symptoms. With a view to promote the latter, the child should be suffered to gnaw such substances as tend to mollify the gums, and by their pressure to facilitate the appearance of the teeth. A piece of liquorice or marshmallow root will be serviceable, or the gums may be softened and relaxed by rubbing them with honey or sweet oil. D. DAIRY. In a publication intended for general usefulness, the management of the dairy, the source of so many comforts, demands some attention, in addition to the information conveyed under various other articles, connected with this interesting part of female economy. A dairy house then ought to be so situated that the windows or lattices may front the north, and it should at all times be kept perfectly cool and clean. Lattices are preferable to glazed lights, as they admit a free circulation of air; and if too much wind draws in, oiled paper may be pasted over the lattice, or a frame constructed so as to slide backwards and forwards at pleasure. Dairies cannot be kept too cool in the summer: they ought therefore to be erected, if possible, near a spring of running water. If a pump can be fixed in the place, or a stream of water conveyed through it, it will tend to preserve a continual freshness and purity of the air. The floor should be neatly paved with red brick, or smooth stone, and laid with a proper descent, so that no water may stagnate: it should be well washed every day, and all the utensils kept with the strictest regard to cleanliness. Neither the cheese, rennet, or cheesepress, must be suffered to contract any taint; nor should the churns be scalded in the dairy, as the steam arising from the hot water tends greatly to injure the milk. The utensils of the dairy should all be made of wood: lead, copper, and brass are poisonous, and cast iron gives a disagreeable taste to the productions of the dairy. Milk leads in particular should be utterly abolished, and well-glazed earthen pans used in their stead. Sour milk has a corroding tendency, and the well known effects of the poison of lead are, bodily debility, palsy, and death. The best of all milk vessels are flat wooden trays about three inches deep, and wide enough to contain a full gallon of milk. These may be kept perfectly clean with good care, and washing and scalding them well with salt and water. As soon as the operation of churning is performed, the butter should be washed immediately in several waters, till thoroughly cleansed from the milk, which should be forced out with a flat wooden ladle, or skimming dish, provided with a short handle. This should be quickly performed, with as little working of the butter as possible; for if it be too much beaten and turned, it will become tough and gluey, which greatly debases its quality. To beat it up with the hand is an indelicate practice, as the butter cannot fail to imbibe the animal effluvia: a warm hand especially will soften it, and make it appear greasy. If the heat of the weather should render it too soft to receive the impression of the mould, it may be put into small vessels, and allowed to swim in a trough of cold water, provided the butter do not come in contact with the water, which would diminish some of its best qualities. A little common salt must be worked up in the butter at the time of making it, and care must be taken not to handle it too much. Meat hung in a dairy will taint the air, and spoil the milk.--See BUTTER, CHEESE, CHURNING, &c. DAMP BEDS. Of all other means of taking cold, damp beds are the most dangerous, and persons who keep them in their houses are guilty of a species of murder, though it unfortunately happens that no housewife is willing to acknowledge that _her_ beds were ever damp. There is however no other effectual way of preventing the dreadful effects so often experienced in this way, than by keeping the beds in constant use, or causing them frequently to be slept in till they are wanted by a stranger. In inns, where the beds are used almost every night, nothing more is necessary than to keep the rooms well aired, and the linen quite dry. If a bed be suspected of dampness, introduce a glass goblet between the sheets with its bottom upwards, immediately after the warming pan is taken out. After a few minutes, if any moisture adheres to the inside of the glass, it is a certain sign that the bed is damp: but if only a slight steam appears, all is safe. If a goblet be not at hand, a looking glass will answer the purpose. The safest way in all such cases is to take off the sheets, and sleep between the blankets. DAMP HOUSES. Nothing is more common than for persons to hazard their lives by inhabiting a dwelling almost as soon as the plasterer or the painter has performed his work, and yet this ought to be guarded against with the utmost care. The custom of sitting in a room lately washed, and before it is thoroughly dried, is also highly injurious to health. Colds occasioned by these means often bring on asthmas and incurable consumptions. DAMP WALLS. When a house has undergone repairs, the walls are apt to become damp, as well as when it has been new built. To prevent the ill effects, powder some glass fine, mix it with slacked lime, dry the mixture well in an iron pot, and pass it through a flour sieve. Then boil some tar with a little grease for a quarter of an hour, and make a cement of the whole together. Care must be taken to prevent any moisture from mixing with the cement, which must be used as soon as made. Lay it on the damp part of the wall like common plaster about a foot square at a time, or it will quickly become too hard for use: if the wall be very wet, a second coating will be required. Common hair mortar may then be laid on, with the addition of a little Paris plaster, which will prevent the walls in future from becoming damp. DAMSON CHEESE. Pick the damsons clean, bake them slowly, till they may be rubbed through a cullender, leaving nothing but the skins and stones. Boil the pulp and juice three hours over a slow fire, with some moist sugar, and keep it stirring to prevent burning. Blanch the kernels, and mix them with the jam a few minutes before it be taken off the fire. Put it into cups, tie it down with writing paper dipped in brandy, and the cheese will keep several years, if kept in a dry place. DAMSON PUDDING. Line a bason with tolerably thin paste, fill with the fruit, and cover the paste over it. Tie a cloth tight over, and boil till the fruit is done enough. DAMSON WINE. Take a considerable quantity of damsons and common plums inclining to ripeness; slit them in halves, so that the stones may be taken out, then mash them gently, and add a little water and honey. Add to every gallon of the pulp a gallon of spring water, with a few bay leaves and cloves: boil the mixture, and add as much sugar as will sweeten it, skim off the froth, and let it cool. Now press the fruit, squeezing out the liquid part; strain all through a fine cloth, and put the water and juice together in a cask. Having allowed the whole to stand and ferment for three or four days, fine it with white sugar, flour, and whites of eggs. Draw it off into bottles, then cork it well: in twelve days it will be ripe, and will taste like weak port, having a flavour of canary. DAMSONS PRESERVED. To keep damsons for winter pies, put them in small stone jars, or wide-mouthed bottles; set them up to their necks in a boiler of cold water, and scald them. Next day, when perfectly cold, fill up the bottles with spring water, and close them down.--Another way is to boil one third as much sugar as fruit over a slow fire, till the juice adheres to the fruit, and forms a jam. Keep it in small jars in a dry place. If too sweet, mix with it some of the fruit done without sugar.--Or choose some pots of equal size top and bottom, sufficient to hold eight or nine pounds each. Put in the fruit about a quarter up, strew in a quarter of the sugar, then another quantity of fruit, and so on till all of both are in. The proportion of sugar is to be three pounds to nine pounds of fruit. Set the jars in the oven, and bake the fruit quite through. When cold, put a piece of clean-scraped stick into the middle of the jar, and let the upper part stand above the top. Cover the fruit with writing paper, and pour melted mutton-suet over, full half an inch thick. Keep the jars in a cool dry place, and use the suet as a cover, which may be drawn up by the stick, if a forked branch be left to prevent its slipping out. DAVENPORT FOWLS. Hang up young fowls for a night. Take the liver, hearts, and tenderest parts of the gizzards, and shred them small, with half a handful of young clary, an anchovy to each fowl, an onion, and the yolks of four eggs boiled hard, seasoning the whole with pepper, salt, and mace. Stuff the fowls with this mixture, and sew up the vents and necks quite close, that the water may not get in. Boil them in salt and water till almost done; then drain them, and put them into a stewpan with butter enough to brown them. Serve them with fine melted butter, and a spoonful of ketchup of either sort, in the dish. DEBILITY. A general relaxation of the nervous system is the source of numerous disorders, and requires a treatment as various as the causes on which it depends. In general, gentle heat possesses both stimulating and strengthening properties, and this is best communicated by a warm bath, which instead of relaxing will invigorate the whole frame. Diet must also be attended to; and weakly persons should be careful to eat light and nourishing food, and plenty of nutricious vegetables. New laid eggs, soup, strong meat-broth, and shell-fish are also very nourishing. Clothing should be accommodated to the climate and changes of weather, so as to preserve as much as possible a middle temperature between cold and heat. Invalids of this description require longer and less disturbed rest than persons in perfect health and vigour; labour and exercise adapted to their habits and strength, a clean but not too soft bed, an airy and capacious apartment, and particularly a calm and composed mind, which last possesses a most powerful influence in preserving health and life, for without tranquility, all other means will be ineffectual. DERBYSHIRE BREAD. Rub four ounces of butter into four pounds of flour, add four eggs well beaten, a pint of milk, and a large spoonful of yeast. Mix them into a paste, make it into rolls, and let them stand half an hour to rise before the fire. Put them into the oven, dip them in milk the next day, and then let them stand by the fire in a Dutch oven about twenty minutes. The rolls will then be very good, and keep a fortnight. DEVONSHIRE JUNKET. Put warm milk into a bowl, and turn it with rennet. Then without breaking the curd, put on the top some scalded cream, sugar and cinnamon. DIET BREAD. Beat nine eggs, and add their weight in sifted sugar, and half as much flour. Mix them well together, grate in the rind of a lemon, and bake it in a hoop. DIET DRINK. Infuse in five gallons of small beer, twelve ounces of red dock-roots, the pith taken out; three ounces of chicary roots, two handfuls of sage, balm, brooklime, and dandelion; two ounces of senna, two of rhubarb, four ounces of red saunders, and a few parsley and carraway seeds. Or boil a pound of the fine raspings of guaiacum, with six gallons of sweetwort, till reduced to five; and when it is set to work, put in the above ingredients. If a little salt of wormwood be taken with it, this diet drink will act as a diuretic, as well as a purgative. DINNERS. The FIRST COURSE for large dinner parties, generally consists of various soups, fish dressed many ways, turtle, mock turtle, boiled meats and stewed: tongue, ham, bacon, chawls of bacon, boiled turkey and fowls: rump, sirloin, and ribs of beef roasted: leg, saddle, and other roast mutton: roast fillet, loin, neck, breast, and shoulder of veal: leg of lamb, loin, fore-quarter, chine, lamb's head and mince: mutton stuffed and roasted, steaks variously prepared, ragouts and fricassees: meat pies raised, and in dishes: patties of meat, fish, and fowl: stewed pigeons, venison, leg of pork, chine, loin, spare-rib, rabbits, hare, puddings, boiled and baked: vegetables, boiled and stewed: calf's head different ways, pig's feet and ears different ways.--Dishes for the SECOND COURSE, birds, and game of all sorts: shell-fish, cold and potted: collared and potted fish, pickled ditto, potted birds, ribs of lamb roasted, brawn, vegetables, stewed or in sauce: French beans, peas, asparagus, cauliflower, fricassee, pickled oysters, spinach, and artichoke bottoms: stewed celery, sea kale, fruit tarts, preserved-fruit tarts, pippins stewed, cheesecakes, various sorts: a collection of sweet dishes, creams, jellies, mince pies, and all the finer sorts of puddings: omlet, macaroni, oysters in scallops, stewed or pickled.--For removes of soup and fish, one or two joints of meat or fowl are served; and for one small course, the article suited to the second must make a part. Where vegetables, fowls, or any other meat are twice dressed, they add to the appearance of the table the first time; and three sweet articles may form the second appearance, without greater expence. In some houses, one dish at a time is sent up with the vegetables, or sauces proper to it, and this in succession hot and hot. In others, a course of soups and fish: then meats and boiled fowls, turkey, &c. Made dishes and game follow; and lastly, sweet dishes; but these are not the common modes. It ought also to be remarked, that cooks in general do not think of sending up such articles as are in the house, unless ordered; though by so doing, the addition of something collared or pickled, some fritters, fried patties, or quick-made dumplings, would be useful when there happen to be accidental visitors: and at all times it is proper to improve the appearance of the table rather than let things spoil below, by which an unnecessary expence is incurred.--Any of the following articles may be served as a relish, with the cheese, after dinner. Baked or pickled fish done high, Dutch pickled herrings: sardinias, which eat like anchovy, but are larger: anchovies, potted char, ditto lampreys: potted birds made high, caviare and sippets of toast: salad, radishes, French pie, cold butter, potted cheese, anchovy toast. DISTRESS FOR RENT. In these days of general complaint and general distress, when so many families and individuals are suffering from the extortions of tax-gatherers, and the severity of landlords, it is proper that householders and occupiers of land should be furnished with a little information on the subject of their legal rights and liabilities, in order to guard against injustice, or the fatal consequences of illegal proceedings. It must therefore be observed, that rent is recoverable by action of debt at common law; but the general remedy is distress, by taking the goods and chattels out of the possession of the tenant, to procure satisfaction for rent. A distress for rent therefore must be made for nonpayment, or rent in arrears, and cannot be made on the day in which the rent becomes due. Neither can distress be made after the rent has been tendered; or if it be tendered while the distress is making, the landlord must deliver up the distress. Any goods or effects that are damaged by the proceedings of the landlord, must be made good by him.--When distress is levied, it should be for the whole of the rent in arrears; not a part at one time and the remainder at another, if there was at first a sufficiency; but if the landlord should mistake the value of the things, he may make a second distress to supply the deficiency. He must be careful to demand neither more nor less than is due; he must also shew the certainty of the rent, and when it was due; otherwise the demand will not be good, nor can he obtain a remedy.--A landlord may distrain whatever he finds on the premises, whether it be the property of his tenant or not, except such things as are for the maintenance and benefit of trade; such as working tools and implements, sacks of corn, or meal in a mill. Neither fixtures in a house nor provisions can be distrained, nor any other article which cannot be restored in as good a state as when it was taken; but wearing apparel may be distrained when they are not in use. Money out of a bag cannot be distrained, because it cannot be known again; but money sealed up in a bag may. A horse in a cart cannot be distrained, without also taking the cart; and if a man be in the cart, these cannot be taken. A horse bringing goods to market, goods brought to market to be sold, goods for exportation on a wharf or in a warehouse, goods in the hands of a factor, goods delivered to a carrier to be conveyed for hire, wool in a neighbour's barn, are all considered as goods in the hands of a third person, and cannot therefore be distrained by a landlord for rent. But goods left at an inn or other place of conveyance, a chaise or horse standing in a stable, though the property of a third person, may be distrained for rent. A distress must not be made after dark, nor on the Sabbath day.--Where a landlord means to distrain for rent, it is not necessary to demand his rent first, unless the tenant is on the premises on the day of payment, and ready to pay it. But if goods are distrained, and no cause given for so doing, the owner may rescue them, if not impounded. Distraining part of the goods for rent in arrear, in the name of the whole goods, will be deemed a lawful seizure. But if distress and sale be made for rent when it can be proved that no rent is due or in arrear, the person so injured may recover double the value of such goods distrained, with full costs of suit. If goods be impounded, though they have been distrained without a cause, a tenant cannot touch them, because they are then in the hands of the law; but if not impounded or taken away, he is at liberty to rescue them.--If distress be made for rent, and the goods are not replevied within five days after the distress is made, and notice left on the premises stating the cause of such distress, the person distraining may have the goods appraised by two persons, sworn by the constable of the place for that purpose, and may after such appraisement sell them to the best advantage. The rent may then be taken, including all expences, and the overplus left in the hands of the constable for the owner's use. If a landlord commit an unlawful act or any other irregularity, in making distress for rent which is justly due, the distress itself will not on that account be deemed unlawful; but full damages may be demanded by the injured party, with full costs of suit; either in an action of trespass, or on the case. But if full recompense be tendered to the tenant for such trespass before the action is commenced, he is bound to accept it, or the action will be discharged.--If a tenant clandestinely remove his goods, to prevent the landlord from distraining them for rent, he may seize the goods within thirty days, wherever they shall be found; and if not actually sold previous to the seizure, he may dispose of them in order to recover his rent. Any tenant or assistant removing goods to prevent a distress, is liable to double the value of the goods, which the landlord may recover by action at law. If under the value of fifty pounds, complaint may be made in writing to two neighbouring magistrates, who will enforce the payment by distress, or commit the offenders to the house of correction for six months. If any person after the distress is made, shall presume to remove the goods distrained, or take them away from the person distraining, the party aggrieved may sue for the injury, and recover treble costs and damages against the offender.--A landlord may not break a lock, nor open a gate; but if the outer door of the house be open he may enter, and break open the inner doors. But where goods are fraudulently removed, and locked up to prevent their being seized, the landlord may break open every place where they are and seize them. If in a dwelling house, an oath must first be made before a magistrate, that is was suspected the goods were lodged there. The most eligible way is to remove the goods immediately, and to give the tenant notice where they are removed to; but it is usual to leave them under the protection of a person on the premises for five whole days, after which it is lawful to sell them. In making the distress, it is necessary to give the bailiff a written order for that purpose, which the landlord may do himself without any stamp, only specifying the person's name, place of abode, and rent in arrears for which the goods and chattels are to be seized. After this an inventory is to be made of the articles, a copy of which is to be given to the tenant, accompanied with a notice that unless the arrears of rent and charges of distress be paid, or the goods replevied at the expiration of five days from the day of distress, the said goods will be appraised and sold according to law. If the landlord chooses to indulge the tenant with a longer time to raise the money, a memorandum must be taken of the tenant, stating that possession is lengthened at his request, or the landlord will be liable to an action for exceeding the time of his original notice.--See TENANTS. DOUBLE RENT. If a tenant has received a written notice, and he refuse to quit, after such notice has been regularly served, and will not give possession at the time required, he is liable to pay at the rate of double the annual value of the land or tenement so detained, for so long time as the same are detained in his possession, and the payment may be recovered by action of debt. Or if the tenant shall give notice of his intention to quit the premises, and do not deliver up possession according to such notice, he is liable to the payment of double rent, as in the other case.--The following is the form of a notice to a tenant to quit, or to pay double rent. 'Mr. A. B. I hereby give you notice to deliver up possession and quit, on or before next Michaelmas day, the house and premises which you now hold of me, situate in the parish of ------inthe county of ------: and in default of your compliance therewith, I do and will insist on your paying me for the same, the yearly rent of ------ being double the annual rent, for such time as you shall detain the key, and keep possession, over the said notice. Witness my hand this day of ------ 182-. C. D. Landlord of the said premises. Witness E. F.'--If, after notice of double rent be expired, a single rent is accepted, such acceptance will prevent the penalty, until notice is again given, and the time expired. DOWN. This valuable part of goose coating, which contributes so much to the comfort and even the luxury of life, comes to maturity when it begins to fall off of itself; and if removed too soon, it is liable to be attacked by worms. Lean geese furnish more than those that are fat, and the down is more valuable. Neither the feathers nor the down of geese which have been dead some time are fit for use: they generally smell bad, and become matted. None but what is plucked from living geese, or which have just been killed, ought to be exhibited for sale; and in this case the down should be plucked soon, or before the geese are entirely cold. DRAUGHT FOR A COUGH. Beat a fresh-laid egg, and mix it with a quarter of a pint of new milk warmed, but do not heat it after the egg is put in. Add a large spoonful of capillaire, the same of rose water, and a little nutmeg scraped. Take it the first and last thing, and it will be found a fine soft draught for those who are weakly, or have a cold.--Another remedy. Take a handful of horehound, a handful of rue, a handful of hyssop, and the same quantity of ground ivy and of tormentil, with a small quantity of long plantain, pennyroyal, and five finger. Boil them in four quarts of water till reduced to two quarts. Strain it off, then add two pounds of loaf sugar; simmer it a little, add a quart of brandy and bottle it for use. A wine glassful of this to be taken occasionally. DRIED BACON. When two flitches are to be cured, divide the hog, cut off the hams, and take out the chine. It is common to remove the spare-ribs, but the bacon will be preserved better from being rusty, if they are left in. Salt the bacon six days, then drain it from that first pickle: mix a proper quantity of salt with half a pound of bay-salt, three ounces of saltpetre, and a pound of coarse sugar, to each hog. Rub the salts well in, and turn it every day for a month. Drain and smoke it for a few days, or dry it with bran or flour, and hang it in the kitchen, or on a rack suspended from the ceiling.--Good bacon may be known, if you are going to purchase it, by the rind being thin, the fat firm, and of a red tinge, the lean tender, of a good colour, and adhering to the bone. If there are yellow streaks in it, it is going, if not already rusty. DRIED CHERRIES. Stone six pounds of Kentish cherries, and put them into a preserving pan with two pounds of loaf sugar pounded and strewed among them. Simmer them till they begin to shrivel, then strain them from the juice, lay them on a hot hearth or in an oven, when either is cool enough to dry without baking them. The same syrup will do another six pounds of fruit.--To dry cherries without sugar, stone, and set them over the fire in a preserving pan. Simmer them in their own liquor, and shake them in the pan. Put them by in common china dishes: next day give them another scald, and when cold put them on sieves to dry, in an oven moderately warm. Twice heating, an hour each time, will be sufficient. Place them in a box, with a paper between each layer.--A superior way of preserving cherries is to allow one pound of double-refined sugar to every five pounds of fruit, after they are stoned; then to put both into a preserving pan with very little water, till they are scalding hot. Take the fruit out immediately and dry them; return them into the pan again, strewing the sugar between each layer of cherries. Let it stand to melt, then set the pan on the fire, and make it scalding hot as before; take it off, and repeat this thrice with the sugar. Drain them from the syrup, and lay them singly to dry on dishes, in the sun or on a stove. When dry, put them into a sieve, dip it into a pan of cold water, and draw it instantly out again, and pour them on a fine soft cloth; dry them, and set them once more in the sun, or on a stove. Keep them in a box, with layers of white paper, in a dry place. This is the best way to give plumpness to the fruit, as well as colour and flavour. DRIED HADDOCK. Choose them of two or three pounds weight; take out the gills, eyes, and entrails, and remove the blood from the backbone. Wipe them dry, and put some salt into the bodies and sockets. Lay them on a board for a night, then hang them up in a dry place, and after three or four days they will be fit to eat. Skin and rub them with egg, and strew crumbs over them. Lay them before the fire, baste with butter till they are quite brown, and serve with egg sauce.--Whitings, if large, are excellent in this way; and where there is no regular supply of fish, it will be found a great convenience. DRIED SALMON. Cut the fish down, take out the inside and roe. After scaling it, rub it with common salt, and let it hang twenty-four hours to drain. Pound three or four ounces of saltpetre, according to the size of the fish, two ounces of bay salt, and two ounces of coarse sugar. Mix them well, rub it into the salmon, and lay it on a large dish for two days; then rub it with common salt, wipe it well after draining, and in twenty-four hours more it will be fit to dry. Hang it either in a wood chimney, or in a dry place, keeping it open with two small sticks.--Dried salmon is broiled in paper, and only just warmed through. Egg sauce and mashed potatoes may be eaten with it; or it may be boiled, especially the part next the head. An excellent dish of dried salmon may also be made in the following manner. Prepare some eggs boiled hard and chopped large, pull off some flakes of the fish, and put them both into half a pint of thin cream, with two or three ounces of butter rubbed in a tea-spoonful of flour. Skim and stir it till boiling hot, make a wall of mashed potatoes round the inner edge of a dish, and pour the above into it. DRINK FOR THE SICK. Pour a table-spoonful of capillaire, and the same of good vinegar, into a tumbler of fresh cold water. Tamarinds, currants, fresh or in jelly, scalded currants or cranberries, make excellent drinks; with a little sugar or not, as most agreeable. Or put a tea-cupful of cranberries into a cup of water, and mash them. In the meantime boil two quarts of water with one large spoonful of oatmeal, and a bit of lemon peel; then add the cranberries, and as much fine Lisbon sugar as shall leave a smart flavour of the fruit. Add a quarter of a pint of sherry, or less, as may be proper: boil all together for half an hour, and strain off the drink. DRIPPING, if carefully preserved, will baste every thing as well as butter, except fowls and game; and for kitchen pies nothing else should be used. The fat of a neck or loin of mutton makes a far lighter pudding than suet. DRIPPING CRUST. Rub a pound of clarified dripping into three pounds of fine flour, and make it into a paste with cold water. Or make a hot crust with the same quantity, by melting the dripping in water, and mixing it hot with the flour. DROP CAKES. Rub half a pound of butter into a pound of fine flour; mix it with half a pound of sugar, and the same of currants. Mix it into a paste, with two eggs, a large spoonful of rose water, brandy, and sweet wine; and put it on plates ready floured. DROPSY. Gentle exercise and rubbing the parts affected, are highly proper in this complaint, and the tepid bath has often procured considerable relief. The patient ought to live in a warm dry place, not expose himself to cold or damp air, and wear flannel next the skin. Vegetable acids, such as vinegar, the juice of lemons and oranges, diluted with water, should be drank in preference to wine or spirits, either of which are generally hurtful. The diet should be light and nourishing, easy of digestion, and taken in moderation. Horseradish, onions and garlic, may be used instead of foreign spices; but tea, coffee, and punch, are alike improper. DROWNING. If a person unfortunately fall into the water, and is supposed to be drowned, he should be carefully undressed as soon as he is taken out; then laid on a bed or mattrass in a warm apartment, with the head and upper part a little raised, and the nostrils cleaned with a feather dipped in oil. Let the body be gently rubbed with common salt, or with flannels dipped in spirits; the pit of the stomach fomented with hot brandy, the temples stimulated with spirits of hartshorn, and bladders of lukewarm water applied to different parts of the body, or a warming-pan wrapped in flannel gently moved along the back. A warm bath, gradually increased to seventy-five degrees, would be highly proper; or the body may be carried to a brewhouse, and covered up with warm grains for an hour or two. An attempt should be made to inflate the lungs, either by the help of a pair of bellows, or a person's blowing with his mouth through the nostril, which in the first instance is much better. If the patient be very young, or the animation do not appear altogether suspended, he may be placed in bed between two persons to promote natural warmth, or covered with blankets or warm flannels. Stimulating clysters of warm water and salt, or six ounces of brandy, should be speedily administered. The means should be persevered in for several hours, as there are instances of persons recovering after all hope was given up, and they had been abandoned by their attendants. As soon as the first symptoms of life are discernible, care must be taken to cherish the vital action by the most gentle and soothing means. Fomentations of aromatic plants may then be applied to the pit of the stomach, bladders of warm water placed to the left side, the soles of the feet rubbed with salt, and a little white wine dropped on the tongue. The patient should then be left in a quiet state till able to drink a little warm wine, or tea mixed with a few drops of vinegar. The absurd practice of rolling persons on casks, lifting the feet over the shoulders, and suffering the head to remain downwards, in order to discharge the water, has occasioned the loss of many lives, as it is now fully and clearly established, that the respiration being impeded is in this case the sole cause of the suspension of life; and which being restored, the vital functions soon recover their tone. No attempt must be made to introduce liquor of any kind into the mouth, till there are strong signs of recovery. DUCKS. In rearing this species of poultry, they should be accustomed to feed and rest in one place, to prevent their straggling too far to lay. Places near the water to lay in are advantageous, and these might consist of small wooden houses, with a partition in the middle, and a door at each end. They generally begin to lay in the month of February. Their eggs should be daily taken away except one, till they seem inclined to set, and then they should be left with a sufficient quantity of eggs under them. They require no attention while setting, except to give them food at the time they come out to seek it; and water should be placed at a convenient distance, that their eggs may not be spoiled by their long absence in seeking it. Twelve or thirteen eggs will be sufficient. In an early season it is best to place them under a hen, that the ducks may have less time for setting, for in cold weather they cannot so well be kept from the water, and would scarcely have strength to bear it. They should be placed under cover, especially in a wet season; for though water is the natural element of ducks, yet they are apt to be killed by the cramp before they are covered with feathers to defend them. Ducks will eat any thing; and when to be fatted, they should have plenty of food, however coarse it may be, and in three weeks they will be ready. DUCK PIE. Bone a full-grown young duck and a fowl. Wash and season them with pepper and salt, and a small proportion of mace and allspice in the finest powder. Put the fowl within the duck, and in the former a calf's tongue, boiled very tender and peeled. Press the whole close, and draw the legs inwards, that the body of the fowl may be quite smooth. The space between the sides of the crust may be filled with fine forcemeat, the same as for savoury pies. Bake it in a slow oven, either in a raised crust or pie dish, with a thick ornamented crust. Large Staffordshire pies are made as above, but with a goose outwards, then a turkey, a duck next, then a fowl; and either tongue, small birds, or forcemeat in the middle. DUCK SAUCE. Put a rich gravy into the dish, and slice the breast. Cut a lemon, put on it some pepper and salt, squeeze it on the breast, and pour a spoonful of gravy over the meat, before it is sent round.--See ROAST DUCK. DUN BIRDS. Roast and baste them with butter, and sprinkle a little salt before they are taken up. Pour a good gravy over them, and serve with shalot sauce in a boat. DUNELM OF VEAL. Stew a few small mushrooms in their own liquor and a bit of butter, a quarter of an hour. Mince them fine, and put them with their liquor to some cold minced veal. Add a little pepper and salt, some cream, and a bit of butter rubbed in less than half a tea-spoonful of flour. Simmer the mince three or four minutes, and serve it on thin sippets of bread. Cold fowl may be treated in the same manner. DUTCH BEEF. Take a lean piece of beef, rub it well with treacle or brown sugar, and let it be turned often. In three days wipe it, and salt it with common salt and saltpetre beaten fine: rub these well in, and turn it every day for a fortnight. Roll it tight in a coarse cloth, and press it under a large weight: hang it to dry in a wood smoke, but turn it upside down every day. Boil it in pump water, and press it: it will then grate or cut into shivers, like Dutch beef. DUTCH FLUMMERY. Boil two ounces of isinglass in a pint and half of water very gently half an hour; add a pint of white wine, the juice of three lemons, and the thin rind of one. Rub a few lumps of sugar on another lemon to obtain the essence, and add with them a sufficient quantity of sugar to sweeten. Beat up the yolks of seven eggs, mix it with the above, and give them together one scald. Keep the flummery stirring all the time, pour it into a bason, stir it till half cold, let it settle, and then put it into a melon shape. DUTCH PUDDING. Melt a pound of butter in half a pint of milk; mix it into two pounds of flour, eight eggs, and four spoonfuls of yeast. Add a pound of currants, and a quarter of a pound of sugar beaten and sifted, and bake it an hour in a quick oven. This is a very good pudding hot, and equally so as a cake when cold. If for the latter, carraways must be used instead of currants. DUTCH RICE PUDDING. Soak four ounces of rice in warm water half an hour; drain away the water, put the rice into a stewpan, with half a pint of milk, and half a stick of cinnamon, and simmer it till tender. When cold, add four eggs well beaten, two ounces of butter melted in a tea-cupful of cream; and add three ounces of sugar, a quarter of a nutmeg, and a good piece of lemon peel. Put a light puffpaste into a mould or dish, or grated tops and bottoms, and bake in a quick oven. DUTCH WAFFLES. These form a delicious article in the shape of puff cakes, which are instantly prepared and exhibited for sale in stalls or tents, in the fairs of Holland, where they are eaten hot as they come from the plate or baking pan, with fine sugar strewed over them. Mix together three pounds of fine flour, a dozen eggs, a pound of melted butter, half a pint of ale, some milk, and a little yeast. Beat it well, till it forms a thick paste, and let it stand three or four hours before the fire to rise. Lay it in small pieces on a hot iron or fryingpan, with a pair of buttered tongs, till it is lightly browned. Eat the waffles with fine sugar sifted over, or a little sack and melted butter. DYEING. Nankeen dye is made of equal parts of arnetto and common potash, dissolved in boiling water. To dye cotton, silk, woollen, or linen of a beautiful yellow, the plant called weld, or dyer's weed, is used for that purpose. Blue cloths dipped in a decoction of it will become green. The yellow colour of the Dutch pink is obtained from the juice of the stones and branches of the weld. Black dye is obtained from a strong decoction of logwood, copperas, and gum arabic. Oak saw-dust, or the excrescences on the roots of young oaks, may be used as a substitute for galls, both in making ink and black dye. E. EARTHENWARE. An ounce of dry lean cheese grated fine, and an equal quantity of quicklime mixed well together in three ounces of skim milk, will form a good cement for any articles of broken earthenware, when the rendering of the joint visible is reckoned of no consequence. A cement of the same nature may be made of quicklime tempered with the curd of milk, but the curd should either be made of whey or buttermilk. This cement, like the former, requires to be applied immediately after it is made, and it will effectually join any kind of earthenware or china. EARWIGS. These insects are often destructive in gardens, especially where carnations, nuts, or filberts, pears and apples are reared. Their depredations on the flowers may be prevented by putting the bowl of a tobacco-pipe on the sticks which support them, into which they will creep in the day time, and may be destroyed. Green leaves of elder laid near fruit trees, or flower roots, will prevent their approach. Large quantities may be taken by placing short cuts of reed, bean or wheat straw, among the branches of fruit trees, and laying some on the ground near the root. Having committed their depredations in the night, they take refuge in these in the day time; the reed or straw may be taken away and burnt, and more put in its stead.--If unfortunately one of these disagreeable insects have crept into the ear, from their running so frequently about our garments, let the afflicted person lay his head upon a table, while some friend carefully drop into the ear a little sweet oil, or oil of almonds. A drop or two will be sufficient to destroy the insect, and remove the pain. An earwig may be extracted by applying a piece of apple to the ear, which will entice the insect to come out. EDGEBONE OF BEEF. Skewer it up tight, and tie a broad fillet round it, to keep the skewers in their places. Put it in with plenty of cold water, and carefully catch the scum as it rises. When all the scum is removed, place the boiler on one side of the fire, to keep simmering slowly till it is done. A piece weighing ten pounds will take two hours, and larger in proportion. The slower it boils the better it will look, and the tenderer it will be: if allowed to boil quick at first, no art can make it tender afterwards. Dress plenty of carrots, as cold carrots are a general favourite with cold beef. EEL BROTH. Clean half a pound of small eels, and set them on the fire with three pints of water, some parsley, a slice of onion, and a few peppercorns. Let them simmer till the eels are broken, and the broth good. Add salt, and strain it off. The above should make three half pints of broth, nourishing and good for weakly persons. EEL PIE. Cut the eels in lengths of two or three inches, season with pepper and salt, and place them in a dish with some bits of butter, and a little water. Cover the dish with a paste, and bake it. EEL SOUP. Put three pounds of small eels to two quarts of water, a crust of bread, three blades of mace, some whole pepper, an onion, and a bunch of sweet herbs. Cover them close, stew till the fish is quite broken, and then strain it off. Toast some bread, cut it into dice, and pour the soup on it boiling hot. Part of a carrot may be put in at first. This soup will be as rich as if made of meat. A quarter of a pint of rich cream, with a tea-spoonful of flour rubbed smooth in it, is a great improvement. EGGS. In new-laid eggs there is a small division of the skin at the end of the shell, which is filled with air, and is perceptible to the eye. On looking through them against the sun or a candle, they will be tolerably clear; but if they shake in the shell, they are not fresh. Another way to distinguish fresh eggs, is to put the large end to the tongue; if it feels warm, it is new and good. Eggs may be bought cheapest in the spring, when the hens first begin to lay, before they set: in Lent and at Easter they become dear. They may be preserved fresh for some time by dipping them in boiling water, and instantly taking them out, or by oiling the shell, either of which will prevent the air from passing through. They may also be kept on shelves with small holes to receive one in each, and be turned every other day; or close packed in a keg, and covered with strong lime water. A still better way of preserving eggs in a fresh state is to dip them in a solution of gum-arabic in water, and then imbed them in powdered charcoal. The gum-arabic answers the purpose of a varnish for the eggs, much better than any resinous gum, as it can easily be removed by washing them in water, and is a much cheaper preparation than any other. If eggs are greased the oily matter becomes rancid, and infallibly hastens the putrefaction of the eggs. But being varnished with gum water, and imbedded in charcoal, they will keep for many years, and may be removed from one climate to another. EGGS AND BACON. Lay some slices of fine streaked bacon in a clean dish, and toast them before the fire in a cheese-toaster, turning them when the upper side is browned; or if it be wished to have them mellow and soft, rather than curled and crisp, parboil the slices before they are toasted and do them lightly. Clear dripping or lard is to be preferred to butter for frying the eggs, and be sure that the fryingpan is quite clean before it is put in. When the fat is hot, break two or three eggs into it. Do not turn them; but while they are frying, keep pouring some of the fat over them with a spoon. When the yolk just begins to look white, which it will in about two minutes, they are enough, and the white must not be suffered to lose its transparency. Take up the eggs with a tin slice, drain the fat from them, trim them neatly, and send them up with the bacon round them. EGGS AND ONIONS. Boil some eggs hard, take out the yolks whole, and cut the whites in slices. Fry some onions and mushrooms, put in the whites, and keep them turning. Pour off the fat, flour the onions, and add a little gravy. Boil them up, then put in the yolks, with a little pepper and salt. Simmer the whole about a minute, and serve it up. EGGS FOR SALLAD. Boil a couple of eggs for twelve minutes, and put them into a bason of cold water, to render the yolks firm and hard. Rub them through a sieve with a wooden spoon, and mix them with a spoonful of water, or fine double cream, and add two table-spoonfuls of oil or melted butter. When these are well mixed, add by degrees a tea-spoonful of salt, or powdered lump sugar, and the same of made mustard. Add very gradually three table-spoonfuls of vinegar, rub it with the other ingredients till thoroughly incorporated, and cut up the white of the egg to garnish the top of the sallad. Let the sauce remain at the bottom of the bowl, and do not stir up the sallad till it is to be eaten. This sauce is equally good with cold meat, cold fish, or for cucumbers, celery, and radishes. EGGS FOR THE SICK. Eggs very little boiled or poached, when taken in small quantities, convey much nourishment. The yolk only, when dressed, should be eaten by invalids. An egg divided, and the yolk and white beaten separately, then mixed with a glass of wine, will afford two very wholesome draughts, and prove lighter than when taken together. An egg broken into a cup of tea, or beaten and mixed with a bason of milk, makes a breakfast more supporting than tea only. EGGS FOR TURTLE. Beat in a mortar three yolks of eggs that have been boiled hard. Make it into a paste with the yolk of a raw one, roll it into small balls, and throw them into boiling water for two minutes to harden. EGG BALLS. Boil the eggs hard, and put them in cold water. Take out the yolks, and pound them fine in a mortar, wetting them with raw yolks, about one to three. Season them with salt and white pepper, dry them with flour, and roll them into small balls, as they swell very much in boiling. When dressed, boil them in gravy for a minute. EGG PIE. Boil twelve eggs hard, and chop them with one pound of marrow, or beef suet. Season with a little cinnamon and nutmeg finely beaten, adding one pound of currants clean washed and picked, two or three spoonfuls of cream, a little sweet wine, and rose water. Mix all together, and fill the pie: when it is baked, stir in half a pound of fresh butter, and the juice of a lemon. EGG MINCE PIES. Boil six eggs hard, shred them small, and double the quantity of shred suet. Then add a pound of currants washed and picked, or more if the eggs were large; the peel of one lemon shred very fine, and the juice; six spoonfuls of sweet wine, mace, nutmeg, sugar, a very little salt; orange, lemon, and citron, candied. Cover the pies with a light paste. EGG SAUCE. Boil the eggs hard, chop them fine, and put them into melted butter. If thrown into cold water after being boiled, the yolks will become firmer, will be easier to cut, and the surface be prevented from turning black. Egg sauce will be found an agreeable accompaniment to roast fowl, or salt fish. EGG WINE. Beat up an egg, and mix it with a spoonful of cold water. Set on the fire a glass of white wine, half a glass of water, with sugar and nutmeg. When it boils, pour a little of it to the egg by degrees, till the whole is mixed, and stir it well. Then return the whole into the saucepan, put it on a gentle fire, stir it one way for about a minute. If it boil, or the egg be stale, it will curdle. The wine may be made without warming the egg; it is then lighter on the stomach, though not so pleasant to the taste. Serve it with toast. ELDER. The foetid smell of the common elder is such, especially of the dwarf elder, that if the leaves and branches be strewed among cabbage and cauliflower plants, or turnips, it will secure them from the ravages of flies and caterpillars; and if hung on the branches of trees, it will protect them from the effects of blight. Or if put into the subterraneous paths of the moles, it will drive them from the garden. An infusion of the leaves in water, and sprinkled over rose-buds and other flowers, will preserve them from the depredations of the caterpillar. ELDER ROB. Clear some ripe elder-berries from the stalks, bake them in covered jars for two hours, and squeeze the juice through a strainer. To four quarts of juice put one pound of sugar, and stir it over the fire till reduced to one quart. When cold, tie it down with a bladder, and keep it in a dry place. It is very good for sore throats and fevers. ELDER SYRUP. Pick off the elder berries when fully ripe, bake them in a stone jar, strain them through a coarse sieve, and put the juice into a clean kettle. To every quart of juice add a pound of fine soft sugar, boil and skim it well: when it is clear, pour it into a jar, cool it, and cover it down. Half a pint of this syrup added to a gallon of new made wine, will give it a very rich flavour, or it may be used for other purposes. ELDER WINE. Pick the berries from the stalk, and to every quart allow two quarts of water. Boil them half an hour, run the liquor and break the fruit through a hair sieve, and to every quart of juice put three quarters of a pound of moist sugar. Boil the whole a quarter of an hour, with some peppercorns, ginger, and a few cloves. Pour it into a tub, and when of a proper warmth, into the barrel, with toast and yeast to work, which there is more difficulty to make it do than most other liquors. When it ceases to hiss, put a quart of brandy to eight gallons, and stop it up. Bottle it in the spring, or at Christmas.--To make white elder wine, very much like Frontiniac, boil eighteen pounds of white powder sugar with six gallons of water, and two whites of eggs well beaten. Skim it clean, and but in a quarter of a peck of elder flowers from the tree that bears white berries, but do not keep them on the fire. Stir it when nearly cold, and put in six spoonfuls of lemon juice, four or five spoonfuls of yeast, and beat it well into the liquor. Stir it every day, put into the cask six pounds of the best raisins stoned, and tun the wine. Stop it close, and bottle it in six months. When well kept, this wine will pass for Frontiniac. ELDER FLOWER WINE. To six gallons of spring water put six pounds of sun raisins cut small, and a dozen pounds of fine sugar: boil the whole together for about an hour and a half. When the liquor is cold, put in half a peck of ripe elder flowers, with about a gill of lemon juice, and half the quantity of ale yeast. Cover it up, and after standing three days, strain it off. Pour it into a cask that is quite clean, and that will hold it with ease. When this is done, add a quart of Rhenish wine to every gallon of liquor, and let the bung be lightly put in for twelve or fourteen days. Then stop it down fast, and put it in a cool dry place for four or five months, till it is quite settled and fine: then bottle it off. ENGLISH BAMBOO. About the middle of May, cut some large young shoots of elder; strip off the outward peel, and soak them all night in some strong salt and water. Dry them separately in a cloth, and have in readiness the following pickle. To a quart of vinegar put an ounce of white pepper, an ounce of sliced ginger, a little mace and pimento, all boiled together. Put the elder shoots into a stone jar, pour on the liquor boiling hot, stop it up close, and set it by the fire two hours, turning the jar often to keep it hot. If not green when cold, strain off the liquor, pour it on boiling again, and keep it hot as before.--Or if it be intended to make Indian pickle, the addition of these shoots will be found to be a great improvement. In this case it will only be necessary to pour boiling vinegar and mustard seed on them, and to keep them till the jar of pickles shall be ready to receive them. The cluster of elder flowers before it opens, makes a delicious pickle to eat with boiled mutton. It is prepared by only pouring vinegar over the flowers. ENGLISH BRANDY. English or British brandy may be made in smaller quantities, according to the following proportions. To sixty gallons of clear rectified spirits, put one pound of sweet spirit of nitre, one pound of cassia buds ground, one pound of bitter almond meal, (the cassia and almond meal to be mixed together before they are put to the spirits) two ounces of sliced orris root, and about thirty or forty prune stones pounded. Shake the whole well together, two or three times a day, for three days or more. Let them settle, then pour in one gallon of the best wine vinegar; and add to every four gallons, one gallon of foreign brandy. ENGLISH CHAMPAIGNE. Take gooseberries before they are ripe, crush them with a mallet in a wooden bowl; and to every gallon of fruit, put a gallon of water. Let it stand two days, stirring it well. Squeeze the mixture with the hands through a hop sieve, then measure the liquor, and to every gallon put three pounds and a half of loaf sugar. Mix it well in the tub, and let it stand one day. Put a bottle of the best brandy into the cask, which leave open five or six weeks, taking off the scum as it rises. Then stop it up, and let it stand one year in the barrel before it is bottled. ENGLISH SHERRY. Boil thirty pounds of lump sugar in ten gallons of water, and clear it of the scum. When cold, put a quart of new alewort to every gallon of liquor, and let it work in the tub a day or two. Then put it into a cask with a pound of sugar candy, six pounds of fine raisins, a pint of brandy, and two ounces of isinglass. When the fermentation is over, stop it close: let it stand eight months, rack it off, and add a little more brandy. Return it to the cask again, and let it stand four months before it is bottled. ENGLISH WINES. During the high price of foreign wine, home-made wines will be found particularly useful; and though sugar is dear, they may be prepared at a quarter of the expence. If carefully made, and kept three or four years, a proportionable strength being given, they would answer the purpose of foreign wines for health, and cause a very considerable reduction in the expenditure. Sugar and water are the principal basis of home-made wine; and when these require to be boiled, it is proper to beat up the whites of eggs to a froth, and mix them with the water when cold, in the proportion of one egg to a gallon. When the sugar and water are boiled, the liquor should be cooled quickly; and if not for wines that require fermenting, it may be put into the cask when cold. If the wine is to be fermented, the yeast should be put into it when it is milk-warm; but must not be left more than two nights to ferment, before it is put into the cask. Particular care should be taken to have the cask sweet and dry, and washed inside with a little brandy, before the wine is tunned, but it should not be bunged up close till it has done fermenting. After standing three or four months, it will be necessary to taste the wine, to know whether it be fit to draw off. If not sweet enough, some sugar should be added, or draw it off into another cask, and put in some sugar-candy: but if too sweet, let it stand a little longer. When the wine is racked, the dregs may be drained through a flannel bag; and the wine, if not clear enough for the table, may be used for sauce. ESSENCE OF ALLSPICE. Take a dram of the oil of pimento, and mix it by degrees with two ounces of strong spirit of wine. A few drops will give the flavour of allspice to a pint of gravy, or mulled wine. ESSENCE OF ANCHOVY. Put into a marble mortar ten or twelve fine mellow anchovies, that have been well pickled, and pound them to a pulp. Put this into a clean well-tinned saucepan, then put a table-spoonful of cold water into the mortar, shake it round, and pour it to the pounded anchovies. Set them by the side of a slow fire, frequently stirring them together till they are melted, which they will be in the course of five minutes. Now stir in a quarter of a dram of good cayenne, and let it remain by the fire a few minutes longer. Rub it through a hair sieve with the back of a wooden spoon, and keep it stopped very closely: if the air gets to it, it is spoiled directly. Essence of anchovy is made sometimes with sherry, or madeira, instead of water, or with the addition of mushroom ketchup. ESSENCE OF CAYENNE. Put half an ounce of cayenne pepper into half a pint of wine or brandy, let it steep a fortnight, and then pour off the clear liquor. This article is very convenient for the extempore seasoning and finishing of soups and sauces, its flavour being instantly and equally diffused. ESSENCE OF CELERY. Steep in a quarter of a pint of brandy, or proof spirit, half an ounce of celery seed bruised, and let it stand a fortnight. A few drops will immediately flavour a pint of broth, and are an excellent addition to pease, and other soups. ESSENCE OF CLOVES. Mix together two ounces of the strongest spirit of wine, and a dram of the oil of cloves. Nutmeg, cinnamon, and mace are prepared in the same manner. ESSENCE OF FLOWERS. Select a quantity of the petals of any flowers which have an agreeable fragrance, lay them in an earthen vessel, and sprinkle a little fine salt upon them. Then dip some cotton into the best Florence oil, and lay it thin upon the flowers; continue a layer of petals, and a layer of cotton, till the vessel is full. It is then to be closed down with a bladder, and exposed to the heat of the sun. In about a fortnight a fragrant oil may be squeezed away from the whole mass, which will yield a rich perfume. ESSENCE OF GINGER. Grate three ounces of ginger, and an ounce of thin lemon peel, into a quart of brandy, or proof spirit, and let it stand for ten days, shaking it up each day. If ginger is taken to produce an immediate effect, to warm the stomach, or dispel flatulence, this will be found the best preparation. ESSENCE OF LAVENDER. Take the blossoms from the stalks in warm weather, and spread them in the shade for twenty-four hours on a linen cloth; then bruise and put them into warm water, and leave them closely covered in a still for four or five hours near the fire. After this the blossoms may be distilled in the usual way. ESSENCE OF LEMON PEEL. Wash and brush clean the lemons, and let them get perfectly dry. Take a lump of fine sugar, and rub them till all the yellow rind is taken up by the sugar; scrape off the surface of the sugar into a preserving pot, and press it hard down. Cover it very close, and it will keep for some time. By this process is obtained the whole of the fine essential oil, which contains the flavour. ESSENCE OF MUSHROOMS. This delicate relish is made by sprinkling a little salt over some mushrooms, and mashing them three hours after. Next day strain off the liquor, put it into a stewpan, and boil it till reduced one half. It will not keep long, but is preferable to any of the ketchups. An artificial bed of mushrooms would supply this article all the year round. ESSENCE OF OYSTERS. Take fine fresh Milton oysters, wash them in their own liquor, skim it, and pound them in a marble mortar. To a pint of oysters add a pint of sherry, boil them up, and add an ounce of salt, two drams of pounded mace, and one of cayenne. Let it just boil up again, skim it, and rub it through a sieve. When cold, bottle and cork it well, and seal it down. This composition very agreeably heightens the flavour of white sauces, and white made-dishes. If a glass of brandy be added to the essence, it will keep a considerable time longer than oysters are out of season. ESSENCE OF SHALOT. Peel, mince, and pound in a mortar, three ounces of shalots, and infuse them in a pint of sherry for three days. Then pour off the clear liquor on three ounces more of shalots, and let the wine remain on them ten days longer. An ounce of scraped horseradish may be added to the above, and a little thin lemon peel. This will impart a fine flavour to soups, sauces, hashes, and various other dishes. ESSENCE OF SOAP. For washing or shaving, the essence of soap is very superior to what is commonly used for these purposes, and a very small quantity will make an excellent lather. Mix two ounces of salt of tartar with half a pound of soap finely sliced, put them into a quart of spirits of wine, in a bottle that will contain twice the quantity. Tie it down with a bladder, prick a pin through it for the air to escape, set it to digest in a gentle heat, and shake up the contents. When the soap is dissolved, filter the liquor through some paper to free it from impurities, and scent it with burgamot or essence of lemon. ESSENCE OF TURTLE. Mix together one wine-glassful of the essence of anchovy, one and a half of shalot wine, four wine-glassfuls of Basil wine, two ditto of mushroom ketchup, one dram of lemon acid, three quarters of an ounce of lemon peel very thinly pared, and a quarter of an ounce of curry powder, and let them steep together for a week. The essence thus obtained will be found convenient to flavour soup, sauce, potted meats, savoury patties, and various other articles. EVACUATIONS. Few things are more conducive to health than keeping the body regular, and paying attention to the common evacuations. A proper medium between costiveness and laxness is highly desirable, and can only be obtained by regularity in diet, sleep, and exercise. Irregularity in eating and drinking disturbs every part of the animal economy, and never fails to produce diseases. Too much or too little food will have this effect: the former generally occasions looseness, and the latter costiveness; and both have a tendency to injure health. Persons who have frequent recourse to medicine for preventing costiveness, seldom fail to ruin their constitution. They ought rather to remove the evil by diet than by drugs, by avoiding every thing of a hot or binding nature, by going thinly clothed, walking in the open air, and acquiring the habit of a regular discharge by a stated visit to the place of retreat. Habitual looseness is often owing to an obstructed perspiration: persons thus afflicted should keep their feet warm, and wear flannel next the skin. Their diet also should be of an astringent quality, and such as tends to strengthen the bowels. For this purpose, fine bread, cheese, eggs, rice milk, red wine, or brandy and water would be proper.--Insensible perspiration is one of the principal discharges from the human body, and is of such importance to health, that few diseases attack us while it goes on properly; but when obstructed, the whole frame is soon disordered, and danger meets us in every form. The common cause of obstructed perspiration, or taking cold, is the sudden changes of the weather; and the best means of fortifying the body is to be abroad every day, and breathe freely in the open air. Much danger arises from wet feet and wet clothes, and persons who are much abroad are exposed to these things. The best way is to change wet clothes as soon as possible, or to keep in motion till they be dry, but by no means to sit or lie down. Early habits may indeed inure people to wet clothes and wet feet without any danger, but persons of a delicate constitution cannot be too careful. Perspiration is often obstructed by other means, but it is in all cases attended with considerable danger. Sudden transitions from heat to cold, drinking freely of cold water after being heated with violent exercise, sitting near an open window when the room is hot, plunging into cold water in a state of perspiration, or going into the cold air immediately after sitting in a warm room, are among the various means by which the health of thousands is constantly ruined; and more die of colds than are killed by plagues, or slain in battle. EVE'S PUDDING. Grate three quarters of a pound of bread; mix it with the same quantity of shred suet, the same of apples, and also of currants. Mix with these the whole of four eggs, and the rind of half a lemon shred fine. Put it into a shape, and boil it three hours. Serve with pudding sauce, the juice of half a lemon, and a little nutmeg. EXERCISE. Whether man were originally intended for labour or not, it is evident from the human structure, that exercise is not less necessary than food, for the preservation of health. It is generally seen among the labouring part of the community, that industry places them above want, and activity serves them instead of physic. It seems to be the established law of the animal creation, that without exercise no creature should enjoy health, or be able to find subsistence. Every creature, except man, takes as much of it as is necessary: he alone deviates from this original law, and suffers accordingly. Weak nerves, and glandular obstructions, which are now so common, are the constant companions of inactivity. We seldom hear the active or laborious complain of nervous diseases: indeed many have been cured of them by being reduced to the necessity of labouring for their own support. This shews the source from which such disorders flow, and the means by which they may be prevented. It is evident that health cannot be enjoyed where the perspiration is not duly carried on; but that can never be the case where exercise is neglected. Hence it is that the inactive are continually complaining of pains of the stomach, flatulencies, and various other disorders which cannot be removed by medicine, but might be effectually cured by a course of vigorous exercise. But to render this in the highest degree beneficial, it should always be taken in the open air, especially in the morning, while the stomach is empty, and the body refreshed with sleep. The morning air braces and strengthens the nerves, and in some measure answers the purpose of a cold bath. Every thing that induces people to sit still, except it be some necessary employment, ought to be avoided; and if exercise cannot be had in the open air, it should be attended to as far as possible within doors. Violent exertions however are no more to be recommended than inactivity; for whatever fatigues the body, prevents the benefit of exercise, and tends to weaken rather than strengthen it. Fast walking, immediately before or after meals, is highly pernicious, and necessarily accelerates the circulation of the blood, which is attended with imminent danger to the head or brain. On the other hand, indolence not only occasions diseases, and renders men useless to society, but it is the parent of vice. The mind, if not engaged in some useful pursuit, is constantly in search of ideal pleasures, or impressed with the apprehension of some imaginary evil; and from these sources proceed most of the miseries of mankind. An active life is the best guardian of virtue, and the greatest preservative of health. F. FACSIMILES. To produce a facsimile of any writing, the pen should be made of glass enamel, the point being small and finely polished, so that the part above the point may be large enough to hold as much or more ink than a common writing pen. A mixture of equal parts of Frankfort black, and fresh butter, is now to be smeared over sheets of paper, and is to be rubbed off after a certain time. The paper thus smeared is to be pressed for some hours, taking care to have sheets of blotting paper between each of the sheets of black paper. When fit for use, writing paper is put between sheets of blackened paper, and the upper sheet is to be written on, with common ink, by the glass or enamel pen. By this method, not only the copy is obtained on which the pen writes, but also two or more, made by means of the blackened paper. FAMILY PIES. To make a plain trust for pies to be eaten hot, or for fruit puddings, cut some thin slices of beef suet, lay them in some flour, mix it with cold water, and roll it till it is quite soft. Or make a paste of half a pound of butter or lard, and a pound and a half of flour. Mix it with water, work it up, roll it out twice, and cover the dish with it. FAMILY WINE. An excellent compound wine, suited to family use, may be made of equal parts of red, white, and black currants, ripe cherries and raspberries, well bruised, and mixed with soft water, in the proportion of four pounds of fruit to one gallon of water. When strained and pressed, three pounds of moist sugar are to be added to each gallon of liquid. After standing open for three days, during which it is to be stirred frequently, it is to be put into a barrel, and left for a fortnight to work, when a ninth part of brandy is to be added, and the whole bunged down. In a few months it will be a most excellent wine. FATTING FOWLS. Chickens or fowls may be fatted in four or five days, by setting some rice over the fire with skimmed milk, as much as will serve for one day. Let it boil till the rice is quite swelled, and add a tea-spoonful of sugar. Feed them three times a day, in common pans, giving them only as much as will quite fill them at once. Before they are fed again, set the pans in water, that no sourness may be conveyed to the fowls, as that would prevent their fattening. Let them drink clean water, or the milk of the rice; but when rice is given them, after being perfectly soaked, let as much of the moisture as possible be drawn from it. By this method the flesh will have a clean whiteness, which no other food gives; and when it is considered how far a pound of rice will go, and how much time is saved by this mode, it will be found nearly as cheap as any other food, especially if it is to be purchased. The chicken pen should be cleaned every day, and no food given for sixteen hours before poultry is to be killed. FAWN. A fawn, like a sucking pig, should be dressed almost as soon as it is killed. When very young, it is trussed, stuffed, and spitted the same as a hare. But they are better eating when of the size of a house lamb, and then roasted in quarters: the hind quarter is most esteemed. The meat must be put down to a very quick fire, and either basted all the time it is roasting, or be covered with sheets of fat bacon. When done, baste it with butter, and dredge it with a little salt and flour, till a nice froth is set upon it. Serve it up with venison sauce. If a fawn be half roasted as soon as received, and afterwards made into a hash, it will be very fine. FEAR. Sudden fear, or an unexpected fright, often produces epileptic fits, and other dangerous disorders. Many young people have lost their lives or their senses by the foolish attempts of producing violent alarm, and the mind has been thrown into such disorders as never again to act with regularity. A settled dread and anxiety not only dispose the body to diseases, but often render those diseases fatal, which a cheerful mind would overcome; and the constant dread of some future evil, has been known to bring on the very evil itself. A mild and sympathizing behaviour towards the afflicted will do them more good than medicine, and he is the best physician and the best friend who administers the consolation of hope. FEATHERS. Where poultry is usually sold ready picked, the feathers which occasionally come in small quantities are neglected; but care should be taken to put them into a clean tub, and as they dry to change them into paper bags, in small quantities. They should hang in a dry kitchen to season; fresh ones must not be added to those in part dried, or they will occasion a musty smell, but they should go through the same process. In a few months they will be fit to add to beds, or to make pillows, without the usual mode of drying them in a cool oven, which may be pursued if they are wanted before five or six months. FEATHERS CLEANED. In order to clear feathers from animal oil, dissolve a pound of quick lime in a gallon of clear water; and pour off the clear lime-water for use, at the time it is wanted. Put the feathers to be cleaned in a tub, and add to them a sufficient quantity of the clear lime-water, so as to cover them about three inches. The feathers, when thoroughly moistened, will sink down, and should remain in the lime-water for three or four days; after which, the foul liquor should be separated from them by laying them on a sieve. They are afterwards to be washed in clean water, and dried on nets, the meshes being about the same fineness as those of cabbage nets. They must be shaken from time to time on the nets; as they dry, they will fall through the meshes, and are to be collected for use. The admission of air will be serviceable in the drying, and the whole process may be completed in about three weeks. The feathers, after being thus prepared, want nothing farther than beating, to be used either for beds, bolsters, pillows, or cushions. FEET. To prevent corns from growing on the feet, wear easy shoes, and bathe the feet often in lukewarm water, with a little salt and potash dissolved in it. The corn itself may be completely destroyed by rubbing it daily with a little caustic solution of potash, till a soft and flexible skin is formed. For chilblains, soak the feet in warm bran and water and rub them well with flour of mustard. This should be done before the chilblains begin to break. FENNEL SAUCE. Boil fennel and parsley, tied together in a bunch; chop it small, and stir it up with melted butter. This sauce is generally eaten with mackarel. FEVER DRINK. To make a refreshing drink in a fever, put into a stone jug a little tea sage, two sprigs of balm, and a small quantity of wood sorrel, having first washed and dried them. Peel thin a small lemon, and clear from the white; slice it, and put in a bit of the peel. Then pour in three pints of boiling water, sweeten, and cover it close.--Another drink. Wash extremely well an ounce of pearl barley; shift it twice, then put to it three pints of water, an ounce of sweet almonds beaten fine, and a bit of lemon peel. Boil the liquor smooth, put in a little syrup of lemons, and capillaire.--Another way is to boil three pints of water with an ounce and a half of tamarinds, three ounces of currants, and two ounces of stoned raisins, till nearly a third is consumed. Strain it on a bit of lemon peel, which should be removed in the course of an hour, or it will infuse a bitter taste. FILLET OF VEAL. Stuff it well under the udder, at the bone, and quite through to the shank. Put it into the oven, with a pint of water under it, till it comes to a fine brown. Then put it in a stewpan with three pints of gravy, and stew it quite tender. Add a tea-spoonful of lemon pickle, a large spoonful of browning, one of ketchup, and a little cayenne; thicken it with a bit of butter rolled in flour. Put the veal in a dish, strain the gravy over it, and lay round it forcemeat balls. Garnish with pickle and lemon. FINE CAKE. To make an excellent cake, rub two pounds of fine dry flour with one of butter, washed in plain and then in rose water. Mix with it three spoonfuls of yeast, in a little warm milk and water. Set it to rise an hour and a half before the fire, and then beat into it two pounds of currants, carefully washed and picked, and one pound of sifted sugar. Add four ounces of almonds, six ounces of stoned raisins chopped fine, half a nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, and a few cloves, the peel of a lemon shred very fine, a glass of wine, one of brandy, twelve yolks and whites of eggs beat separately, with orange, citron, and lemon. Beat them up well together, butter the pan, and bake in a quick oven.--To make a still finer cake, wash two pounds and a half of fresh butter in water first, and then in rose water, and beat the butter to a cream. Beat up twenty eggs, yolks and whites, separately, half an hour each. Have ready two pounds and a half of the finest flour well dried and kept hot, likewise a pound and a half of loaf sugar pounded and sifted, an ounce of spice in very fine powder, three pounds of currants nicely cleaned and dry, half a pound of almonds blanched, and three quarters of a pound of sweetmeats cut small. Let all be kept by the fire, and mix the dry ingredients. Pour the eggs strained to the butter, mix half a glass of sweet wine with a full glass of brandy, and pour it to the butter and eggs, mixing them well together. Add the dry ingredients by degrees, and beat them together thoroughly for a great length of time. Having prepared and stoned half a pound of jar raisins, chopped as fine as possible, mix them carefully, so that there shall be no lumps, and add a tea-cupful of orange flower water. Beat the ingredients together a full hour at least. Have a hoop well buttered, or a tin or copper cake-pan; take a white paper, doubled and buttered, and put in the pan round the edge, if the cake batter fill it more than three parts, for space should be allowed for rising. Bake it in a quick oven: three hours will be requisite. FINE CRUST. For orange cheesecakes, or sweetmeats, when intended to be particularly nice, the following fine crust may be prepared. Dry a pound of the finest flour and mix with it three ounces of refined sugar. Work up half a pound of butter with the hand till it comes to a froth, put the flour into it by degrees, adding the yolks of three and the whites of two eggs, well beaten and strained. If too thin, add a little flour and sugar to make it fit to roll. Line some pattipans, and fill them: a little more than fifteen minutes will bake them. Beat up some refined sugar with the white of an egg, as thick as possible, and ice the articles all over as soon as they are baked. Then return them to the oven to harden, and serve them up cold, with fresh butter. Salt butter will make a very fine flaky crust, but if for mince pies, or any sweet things, it should first be washed. FIRE ARMS. The danger of improperly loading fire arms chiefly arises from not ramming the wadding close to the powder; and then when a fowling-piece is discharged, it is very likely to burst in pieces. This circumstance, though well known, is often neglected, and various accidents are occasioned by it. Hence when a screw barrel pistol is to be loaded, care should be taken that the cavity for the powder be entirely filled with it, so as to leave no space between the powder and the ball. For the same reason, if the bottom of a large tree is to be shivered with gunpowder, a space must be left between the charge and the wadding, and the powder will tear it asunder. But considering the numerous accidents that are constantly occurring, from the incautious use of fire arms, the utmost care should be taken not to place them within the reach of children or of servants, and in no instance to lay them up without previously drawing the charge. FIRE IRONS. To preserve them from rust, when not in use, they should be wrapped up in baize, and kept in a dry place. Or to preserve them more effectually, let them be smeared over with fresh mutton suet, and dusted with unslaked lime, pounded and tied up in muslin. Irons so prepared will keep many months. Use no oil for them at any time, except a little salad oil, there being water in all other, which would soon produce rust. FIRMITY. To make Somersetshire firmity, boil a quart of fine wheat, and add by degrees two quarts of new milk. Pick and wash four ounces of currants, stir them in the jelly, and boil them together till all is done. Beat the yolks of three eggs, and a little nutmeg, with two or three spoonfuls of milk, and add to the boiling. Sweeten the whole, and serve it in a deep dish, either warm or cold. FISH. In dressing fish of any kind for the table, great care is necessary in cleaning it. It is a common error to wash it too much, and by this means the flavour is diminished. If the fish is to be boiled, after it is cleaned, a little salt and vinegar should be put into the water, to give it firmness. Codfish, whiting, and haddock, are far better if a little salted, and kept a day; and if the weather be not very hot, they will be good two days. When fish is cheap and plentiful, and a larger quantity is purchased than is immediately wanted, it would be proper to pot or pickle such as will bear it, or salt and hang it up, or fry it a little, that it may serve for stewing the next day. Fresh water fish having frequently a muddy smell and taste, should be soaked in strong salt and water, after it has been well cleaned. If of a sufficient size, it may be scalded in salt and water, and afterwards dried and dressed. Fish should be put into cold water, and set on the fire to do very gently, or the outside will break before the inner part is done. Crimp fish is to be put into boiling water; and when it boils up, pour in a little cold water to check extreme heat, and simmer it a few minutes. The fish plate on which it is done, may be drawn up, to see if it be ready, which may be known by its easily separating from the bone. It should then be immediately taken out of the water, or it will become woolly. The fish plate should be set crossways over the kettle, to keep hot for serving; and a clean cloth over the fish, to prevent its losing its colour. Small fish nicely fried, covered with egg and crumbs, make a dish far more elegant than if served plain. Great attention is required in garnishing fish, by using plenty of horseradish, parsley, and lemon. When well done, and with very good sauce, fish is more attended to than almost any other dish. The liver and roe should be placed on the dish in order that they may be distributed in the course of serving.--If fish is to be fried or broiled, it must be dried in a nice soft cloth, after it is well cleaned and washed. If for frying, smear it over with egg, and sprinkle on it some fine crumbs of bread. If done a second time with the egg and bread, the fish will look so much the better. Put on the fire a stout fryingpan, with a large quantity of lard or dripping boiling hot, plunge the fish into it, and let it fry tolerably quick, till the colour is of a fine brown yellow. If it be done enough before it has obtained a proper degree of colour, the pan must be drawn to the side of the fire. Take it up carefully, and either place it on a large sieve turned upwards, and to be kept for that purpose only, or on the under side of a dish to drain. If required to be very nice, a sheet of writing paper must be placed to receive the fish, that it may be free from all grease; it must also be of a beautiful colour, and all the crumbs appear distinct. The same dripping, adding a little that is fresh, will serve a second time. Butter gives a bad colour, oil is the best, if the expense be no objection. Garnish with a fringe of fresh curled parsley. If fried parsley be used, it must be washed and picked, and thrown into fresh water; when the lard or dripping boils, throw the parsley into it immediately from the water, and instantly it will be green and crisp, and must be taken up with a slice.--If fish is to be broiled, it must be seasoned, floured, and laid on a very clean gridiron, which when hot, should be rubbed with a bit of suet, to prevent the fish from sticking. It must be broiled over a very clear fire, that it may not taste smoky; and not too near, that it may not be scorched. FISH GRAVY. Skin two or three eels, or some flounders; gut and wash them very clean, cut them into small pieces, and put them into a saucepan. Cover them with water, and add a little crust of toasted bread, two blades of mace, some whole pepper, sweet herbs, a piece of lemon peel, an anchovy or two, and a tea-spoonful of horse-radish. Cover the saucepan close, and let it simmer; then add a little butter and flour, and boil with the above. FISH PIE. To make a fine fish pie, boil two pounds of small eels. Cut the fins quite close, pick off the flesh, and return the bones into the liquor, with a little mace, pepper, salt, and a slice of onion. Then boil it till it is quite rich, and strain it. Make forcemeat of the flesh, with an anchovy, a little parsley, lemon peel, salt, pepper, and crumbs, and four ounces of butter warmed. Lay it at the bottom of the dish: then take the flesh of soles, small cod, or dressed turbot, and rub it with salt and pepper. Lay this on the forcemeat, pour on the gravy, and bake it. If cod or soles are used, the skin and fins must be taken off. FISH SAUCE. Put into a very nice tin saucepan a pint of port wine, a gill of mountain, half a pint of fine walnut ketchup, twelve anchovies with the liquor that belongs to them, a gill of walnut pickle, the rind and juice of a large lemon, four or five shalots, a flavour of cayenne, three ounces of scraped horse-radish, three blades of mace, and two tea-spoonfuls of made mustard. Boil it all gently, till the rawness goes off, and put it into small bottles for use. Cork them very close and seal the top.--Or chop two dozen of anchovies not washed, and ten shalots, and scrape three spoonfuls of horseradish. Then add ten blades of mace, twelve cloves, two sliced lemons, half a pint of anchovy liquor, a quart of hock or Rhenish wine, and a pint of water. Boil it down to a quart, and strain it off. When cold, add three large spoonfuls of walnut ketchup, and put the sauce into small bottles well corked.--To make fish sauce without butter, simmer very gently a quarter of a pint of vinegar, and half a pint of soft water, with an onion. Add four cloves, and two blades of mace, slightly bruised, and half a tea-spoonful of black pepper. When the onion is quite tender, chop it small with two anchovies, and set the whole on the fire to boil for a few minutes, with a spoonful of ketchup. Prepare in the mean time the yolks of three fresh eggs, well beaten and strained, and mix the liquor with them by degrees. When all are well mixed, set the saucepan over a gentle fire, keeping a bason in one hand, to toss the sauce to and fro in, and shake the saucepan over the fire, that the eggs may not curdle. Do not let it boil, only make the sauce hot enough to give it the thickness of melted butter.--Fish sauce à la Craster, is made in the following manner. Thicken a quarter of a pound of butter with flour, and brown it. Add a pound of the best anchovies cut small, six blades of pounded mace, ten cloves, forty corns of black pepper and allspice, a few small onions, a faggot of sweet herbs, consisting of savoury, thyme, basil, and knotted marjoram, also a little parsley, and sliced horse-radish. On these pour half a pint of the best sherry, and a pint and a half of strong gravy. Simmer all gently for twenty minutes, then strain it through a sieve, and bottle it for use. The way of using it is, to boil some of it in the butter while melting. FLANNELS. In order to make flannels keep their colour and not shrink, put them into a pail, and pour on boiling water. Let them lie till cold, before they are washed. FLAT BEER. Much loss is frequently sustained from beer growing flat, during the time of drawing. To prevent this, suspend a pint or more of ground malt in it, tied up in a large bag, and keep the bung well closed. The beer will not then become vapid, but rather improve the whole time it is in use. FLAT CAKES. Mix two pounds of flour, one pound of sugar, and one ounce of carraways, with four or five eggs, and a few spoonfuls of water. Make all into a stiff paste, roll it out thin, cut it into any shape, and bake on tins lightly floured. While baking, boil to a thin syrup a pound of sugar in a pint of water. When both are hot, dip each cake into the syrup, and place them on tins to dry in the oven for a short time. When the oven is a little cooler, return them into it, and let them remain there four or five hours. Cakes made in this way will keep good for a long time. FLAT FISH. Flounders, plaice, soles, and other kinds of flat fish, are good boiled. Cut off the fins, draw and clean them well, dry them with a cloth, and boil them in salt and water. When the fins draw out easily, they are done enough. Serve them with shrimp, cockle, or mustard sauce, and garnish with red cabbage. FLATULENCY. Wind in the stomach, accompanied with pain, is frequently occasioned by eating flatulent vegetables, or fat meat, with large draughts of beverage immediately afterwards, which turn rancid on the stomach; and of course, these ought to be avoided. Hot tea, turbid beer, and feculent liquors will have the same effect. A phlegmatic constitution, or costiveness, will render the complaint more frequent and painful. Gentle laxatives and a careful diet are the best remedy; but hot aromatics and spirituous liquors should be avoided. FLEAS. Want of cleanliness remarkably contributes to the production of these offensive insects. The females of this tribe deposit their eggs in damp and filthy places, within the crevices of boards, and on rubbish, when they emerge in the form of fleas in about a month. Cleanliness, and frequent sprinkling of the room with a simple decoction of wormwood, will soon exterminate the whole breed of these disagreeable vermin; and the best remedy to expel them from bed clothes is a bag filled with dry moss, the odour of which is to them extremely offensive. Fumigation with brimstone, or the fresh leaves of pennyroyal sewed in a bag, and laid in the bed, will also have the desired effect. Dogs and cats may be effectually secured from the persecutions of these vermin, by occasionally anointing their skin with sweet oil, or oil of turpentine; or by rubbing into their coats some Scotch snuff. But if they be at all mangy, or their skin broken, the latter would be very painful and improper. FLIES. If a room be swarming with these noisome insects, the most ready way of expelling them is to fumigate the apartment with the dried leaves of the gourd. If the window be opened, the smoke will instantly drive them out: or if the room be close, it will suffocate them. But in the latter case, no person should remain within doors, as the fume is apt to occasion the headache. Another way is to dissolve two drams of the extract of quassia in half a pint of boiling water; and, adding a little sugar or syrup, pour the mixture upon plates. The flies are extremely partial to this enticing food, and it never fails to destroy them. Camphor placed near any kind of provision will protect it from the flies. FLIP. To make a quart of flip, put the ale on the fire to warm, and beat up three or four eggs, with four ounces of moist sugar. Add a tea-spoonful of grated nutmeg or ginger, and a quartern of good old rum or brandy. When the ale is nearly boiling, put it into one pitcher, and the rum and eggs into another: turn it from one pitcher to another, till it is as smooth as cream. FLOATING ISLAND. Mix three half pints of thin cream with a quarter of a pint of raisin wine, a little lemon juice, orange flower water, and sugar. Put it into a dish for the middle of the table, and lay on with a spoon the following froth ready prepared. Sweeten half a pound of raspberry or currant jelly, add to it the whites of four eggs beaten, and beat up the jelly to a froth, until it will take any form you please. It should be raised high, to represent a castle or a rock.--Another way. Scald a codlin before it be ripe, or any other sharp apple, and pulp it through a sieve. Beat the whites of two eggs with sugar, and a spoonful of orange flower water; mix in the pulp by degrees, and beat all together till it produces a large quantity of froth. Serve it on a raspberry cream, or colour the froth with beet root, raspberry, or currant jelly, and set it on a white cream, which has already been flavoured with lemon, sugar, and raisin wine. The froth may also be laid on a custard. FLOOR CLOTHS. The best are such as are painted on a fine cloth, well covered with colour, and where the flowers do not rise much above the ground, as they wear out first. The durability of the cloth will depend much on these two particulars, but more especially on the time it has been painted, and the goodness of the colours. If they have not been allowed sufficient space for becoming thoroughly hardened, a very little use will injure them: and as they are very expensive articles, care is necessary in preserving them. It answers to keep them some time before they are used, either hung up in a dry airy place, or laid down in a spare room. When taken up for the winter, they should be rolled round a carpet roller, and care taken not to crack the paint by turning in the edges too suddenly. Old carpets answer quite well, painted and seasoned some months before they are laid down. If intended for passages, the width must be directed when they are sent to the manufactory, as they are cut before painting. FLOOR CLOTHS CLEANED. Sweep them first, then wipe them with a flannel; and when the dust and spots are removed, rub with a wax flannel, and dry them with a plain one. Use but little wax, and rub only with the latter to give a little smoothness, or it will make the floor cloth slippery, and endanger falling. Washing now and then with milk, after the above sweeping and dry rubbing, will give as good an appearance, and render the floor cloths less slippery. FLOUNDERS. These are both sea and river fish: the Thames produces the best. They are in season from January to March, and from July to September. Their flesh should be thick and firm, and their eyes bright: they very soon become flabby and bad. Before they are dressed, they should be rubbed with salt inside and out, and lie two hours to acquire firmness. Then dip them in eggs, cover with grated bread, and fry them. FLOUR. Good wheat flour may be known by the quantity of glutinous matter it contains, and which will appear when kneaded into dough. For this purpose take four ounces of fine flour, mix it with water, and work it together till it forms a thick paste. The paste is then to be well washed and kneaded with the hands under the water, and the water to be renewed till it ceases to become white by the operation. If the flour be sound, the paste which remains will be glutinous and elastic, and brittle after it has been baked.--Adulterated meal and flour are generally whiter and heavier than the good, and may be detected in a way similar to that already mentioned, under the article ADULTERATIONS. Or pour boiling water on some slices of bread, and drop on it some spirits of vitriol. Put them in the flour; and if it contain any quantity of whiting, chalk, or lime, a fermentation will ensue. Vitriol alone, dropped on adulterated bread or flour, will produce a similar effect.--American flour requires nearly twice as much water to make it into bread as is used for English flour, and therefore it is more profitable. Fourteen pounds of American flour will make twenty-one pounds and a half of bread, while the best sort of English flour produces only eighteen pounds and a half. FLOUR CAUDLE. Into five large spoonfuls of pure water, rub smooth one dessert-spoonful of fine flour. Set over the fire five spoonfuls of new milk, and put into it two pieces of sugar. The moment it boils, pour into it the flour and water, and stir it over a slow fire twenty minutes. It is a nourishing and gently astringent food, and excellent for children who have weak bowels. FLOWER GARDEN. The pleasures of the garden are ever various, ever new; and in every month of the year some attention is demanded, either in rearing the tender plant, in preparing the soil for its reception, or protecting the parent root from the severity of the winter's blast. Ranunculuses, anemones, tulips, and other bulbous roots, if not taken up, will be in great danger from the frost, and their shoots in the spring will either be impaired, or totally destroyed.----JANUARY. Cover the flower beds with wheat straw, to protect them from the cold; but where the shoots begin to appear, place behind them a reed edge, sloping three feet forward. A mat is to be let down from the top in severe weather, and taken up when it is mild. This will preserve them, without making them weak or sickly. The beds and boxes of seedling flowers should also be covered, and the fence removed when the weather is mild. Clean the auricula plants, pick off dead leaves, and scrape away the surface of the mould. Replenish them with some that is fine and fresh, set the pots up to the brim in the mould of a dry bed, and place behind them a reed edging. Cover carnation plants from wet, and defend them from mice and sparrows.----FEBRUARY. Make hotbeds for annual flowers, of the dung reserved for that purpose, and sow them upon a good thickness of mould, laid regularly over the dung. Transplant perennial flowers, and hardy shrubs, Canterbury bells, lilacs, and the like. Break up and new lay the gravel walks. Weed, rake, and clean the borders; and where the box of the edging is decayed, make it up with a fresh plantation. Sow auricula and polyanthus seeds in boxes, made of rough boards six inches deep, with holes at the bottom to run off the water. Fill the boxes with light mould, scatter the seeds thinly over the surface, sift some more mould over them about a quarter of an inch thick, and place them where they may enjoy the morning sun. Plant out carnations into pots for flowering.----MARCH. Watch the beds of tender flowers, and throw mats over them, supported by hoops, in hard weather. Continue transplanting all the perennial fibrous rooted flowers, such as golden-rods, and sweet-williams. Dig up the earth with a shovel about those which were planted in autumn, and clean the ground between them. All the pots of flowering plants must now be dressed. Pick off dead leaves, remove the earth at the top, and put fresh instead; then give them a gentle watering, and set them in their places for flowering. Be careful that the roots are not wounded, and repeat the watering once in three days. The third week in March is the time to sow sweet peas, poppies, catchflies, and all the hardy annual plants. The last week is proper for transplanting evergreens, and a showery day should be chosen for the purpose. Hotbeds should now be made, to receive the seedlings of annual flowers raised in the former bed.----APRIL. Tie up to sticks the stalks of tall flowers, cut the sticks about two feet long, thrust them eight inches into the ground, and hide them among the leaves. Clean and rake the ground between them. Take off the slips of auriculas, and plant them out carefully for an increase. Transplant perennial flowers and evergreens, as in the former months; take up the roots of colchichams, and other autumnal bulbous plants. Sow French honeysuckles, wallflowers, and other hardy plants, upon the natural ground, and the more tender sorts on hotbeds. Transplant those sown last month, into the second hotbed. Sow carnations and pinks on the natural ground, and on open borders.----MAY. When the leaves of sowbreads are decayed, take up the roots, and lay them by carefully till the time of planting. Take up the hyacinth roots which have done flowering, and lay them sideways in a bed of dry rich mould, leaving the stems and leaves to die away: this will greatly strengthen the roots. Roll the gravel walks carefully and frequently, and keep the grass clean mowed. Clean all the borders from weeds, take off the straggling branches from the large flowering plants, and train them up in a handsome shape. Plant out French and African marigolds from the hotbeds, with other autumnals, the last week of this month, choosing a cloudy warm day. Tie up the stalks of carnations, pot the tender annuals, such as balsams and amaranths, and set them in a hotbed frame, till summer is more advanced for planting them in the open ground.----JUNE. Choose the evening of a mild showery day, and plant out into the open ground, the tender annuals hitherto kept in pots in the hotbed frame. They must be carefully loosened from the sides of the pot, and taken out with all the mould about them; a large hole must be opened for each, to set them upright in it; and when settled in the ground by gentle watering, they must be tied up to sticks. Let pinks, carnations, and sweet-williams, be laid this month for an increase. Let the layers be covered lightly, and gently watered every other day. Spring flowers being now over, and their leaves faded, the roots must be taken up, and laid by for planting again at a proper season. Snow-drops, winter-aconite, and such sorts, are to be thus managed. The hyacinth roots, laid flat in the ground, must now be taken up, and the dead leaves clipped off; and when cleared from the mould, they must be spread upon a mat in an airy room to dry, and laid by for future planting. Tulip roots also must now be taken up, as the leaves decay: anemones and ranunculuses are treated in the same manner. Cut in three or four places, the cups or poles of the carnations that are near blowing, that they may show regularly. At the same time inoculate some of the fine kind of roses.----JULY. Clip box edgings, cut and trim hedges, look over all the borders, clear them from weeds, and stir up the mould between the plants. Roll the gravel frequently, and mow the grass plats. Inoculate roses and jasmines that require this kind of propagation, and any of the other flowering shrubs. Gather the seeds of flowers intended to be propagated, and lay them upon a shelf in an airy room in the pods. When they are well hardened, tie them up in paper bags, but do not take them out of the pods till they are wanted. Lay pinks and sweet-williams in the earth as formerly, cut down the stalks of those plants which have done flowering, and which are not kept for seed. Tie up with sticks such as are coming into flower, as for the earlier kinds. Sow lupins, larkspurs, and similar sorts, on dry warm borders, to stand the winter, and flower early next year.----AUGUST. Dig up a mellow border, and draw lines at five inches distance, lengthways and across. In the centre of these squares, plant the seedling polyanthuses, one in each square. In the same manner plant out the seedling auriculas. Shade them till they have taken root, and water them once a day. See whether the layers of sweet-williams, carnations, and such like, have taken root; transplant such as are rooted, and give frequent gentle waterings to the others in order to promote it. Cut down the stalks of plants that have done flowering, saving the seed that may be wanted, as it ripens, and water the tender annuals every evening. Sow anemones and ranunculuses, tulip, and narcissus seed. Dig up a border for early tulip roots, and others for hyacinths, anemones, and ranunculuses. Sow annuals to stand through the winter, and shift auriculas into fresh pots.----SEPTEMBER. During this month, preparation should be made for the next season. Tear up the annuals that have done flowering, and cut down such perennials as are past their beauty. Bring in other perennials from the nursery beds, and plant them with care at regular distances. Take up the box edgings where they have outgrown their proper size, and part and plant them afresh. Plant tulip and other flower roots, slip polyanthuses, and place them in rich shady borders. Sow the seeds of flower de luce and crown imperial, as also of auriculas and polyanthuses, according to the method before recommended. Part off the roots of flower de luce, piony, and others of a similar kind. In the last week transplant hardy flowering shrubs, and they will be strong the next summer.----OCTOBER. Let all the bulbous roots for spring flowering be put into the ground; narcissus, maragon, tulips, and such ranunculuses and anemones as were not planted sooner. Transplant columbines, monkshood, and all kinds of fibrous rooted perennials. Place under shelter the auriculas and carnations that are in pots. Dig up a dry border, and if not dry enough, dig in some sand, and set in the pots up to the brim. Place the reed fence sloping behind them, and fasten a mat to its top, that may be let down in bad weather. Take off the dead leaves of the auriculas, before they are thus planted. Bring into the garden some fresh flowering shrubs, wherever they may be wanted, and at the end of the month prune some of the hardier kind.----NOVEMBER. Prepare a good heap of pasture ground, with the turf among it, to rot into mould for the borders. Transplant honeysuckles and spireas, with other hardy flowering shrubs. Rake over the beds of seedling flowers, and strew some peas straw over to keep out the frost. Cut down the stems of perennials which have done flowering, pull up annuals that are spent, and rake and clear the ground. Place hoops over the beds of ranunculuses and anemones, and lay mats or cloths in readiness to draw over them, in case of hard rains or frost. Clean up the borders in all parts of the garden, and take care to destroy not only the weeds, but all kinds of moss. Look over the seeds of those flowers which were gathered in summer, to see that they are dry and sweet; and prepare a border or two for the hardier kind, by digging and cleaning.----DECEMBER. During frost or cold rain, draw the mats and cloths over the ranunculuses; give the anemones a little air in the middle of every tolerable day; and as soon as possible, uncover them all day, but draw on the mats at night. Throw up the earth where flowering shrubs are to be planted in the spring, and turn it once a fortnight. Dig up the borders that are to receive flower roots in the spring, and give them the advantage of a fallow, by throwing up the ground in a ridge. Scatter over it a very little rotten dung from a melon bed, and afterwards turn it twice during the winter. Examine the flowering shrubs, and prune them. Cut away all the dead wood, shorten luxuriant branches, and if any cross each other, take away one. Leave them so that the air may have a free passage between them. Sift a quarter of an inch of good fresh mould over the roots of perennial flowers, whose stalks have been cut down, and then rake over the borders. This will give the whole an air of culture and good management, which is always pleasing. FLOWER POTS. As flowers and plants should enjoy a free circulation of air to make them grow well, sitting rooms are not very well adapted to the purpose, unless they could be frequently ventilated by opening the doors and windows. In every severe frost or damp weather, moderate fires should be made in the rooms where the plants are placed, and the shutters closed at night. Placing saucers under the pots, and pouring water continually into them, is highly improper: it should be poured on the mould, that it may filter through it, and thereby refresh the fibres of the plant. Many kinds of annuals, sown in March and the beginning of April, may be transplanted into pots about the end of May, and should be frequently watered till they have taken root. If transplanted in the summer season, the evening is the proper time, and care must be taken not to break the fibres of the root. When the plants are attacked by any kind of crawling insects, the evil may be prevented by keeping the saucers full of water, so as to form a river round the pot, and rubbing some oil round the side. Oil is fatal to most kinds of insects, and but few of them can endure it. FLOWER SEEDS. When the seeds begin to ripen they should be supported with sticks, to prevent their being scattered by the wind; and in wet weather they should be removed to a dry place, and rubbed out when convenient. August is in general the proper time for gathering flower seeds, but many kinds will ripen much sooner. To ascertain whether the seed be fully ripe, put a little of it into water: if it be come to maturity, it will sink to the bottom, and if not it will swim upon the surface. To preserve them for vegetation, it is only necessary to wrap the seed up in cartridge paper, pasted down and varnished over with gum, or the white of an egg. Some kinds of seeds are best enclosed in sealing wax. FLUMMERY. Steep in cold water, for a day and a night, three large handfuls of very fine white oatmeal. Pour it off clear, add as much more water, and let it stand the same time. Strain it through a fine hair sieve, and boil it till it is as thick as hasty pudding, stirring it well all the time. When first strained, put to it one large spoonful of white sugar, and two of orange flower water. Pour it into shallow dishes, and serve it up with wine, cider, and milk; or it will be very good with cream and sugar. FOMENTATIONS. Boil two ounces each of camomile flowers, and the tops of wormwood, in two quarts of water. Pour off the liquor, put it on the fire again, dip in a piece of flannel, and apply it to the part as hot as the patient can bear it. When it grows cold, heat it up again, dip in another piece of flannel, apply it as the first, and continue changing them as often as they get cool, taking care not to let the air get to the part affected when the flannel is changed.--To relieve the toothache, pain in the face, or any other acute pain, the following anodyne fomentation may be applied. Take two ounces of white poppy heads, and half an ounce of elder flowers, and boil them in three pints of water, till it is reduced one third. Strain off the liquor, and foment the part affected. FOOD. In the early ages of the world, mankind were chiefly supported by berries, roots, and such other vegetables as the earth produced of itself, according to the original grant of the great Proprietor of all things. In later ages, especially after the flood, this grant was enlarged; and man had recourse to animals, as well as to vegetables artificially raised for their support, while the art of preparing food has been brought to the highest degree of perfection. Vegetables are however, with a few exceptions, more difficult of digestion than animal food; but a due proportion of both, with the addition of acids, is the most conducive to health, as well as agreeable to the palate. Animal as well as vegetable food may be rendered unwholesome by being kept too long; and when offensive to the senses, they become alike injurious to health. Diseased animals, and such as die of themselves, ought never to be eaten. Such as are fed grossly, stalled cattle and pigs, without any exercise, do not afford food so nourishing or wholesome as others. Salt meat is not so easily digested as fresh provisions, and has a tendency to produce putrid diseases, especially the scurvy. If vegetables and milk were more used, there would be less scurvy, and fewer inflammatory fevers. Our food ought neither to be too moist, nor too dry. Liquid food relaxes and renders the body feeble: hence those who live much on tea, and other watery diet, generally become weak, and unable to digest solid food. They are also liable to hysterics, with a train of other nervous affections. But if the food be too dry, it disposes the body to inflammatory disorders, and is equally to be avoided. Families would do well to prepare their own diet and drink, as much as possible, in order to render it good and wholesome. Bread in particular is so necessary a part of daily food, that too much care cannot be taken to see that it be made of sound grain duly prepared, and kept from all unwholesome ingredients. Those who make bread for sale, seek rather to please the eye than to promote health. The best bread is that which is neither too coarse nor too fine, well fermented, and made of wheat flour, or wheat and rye mixed together. Good fermented liquors, neither too weak nor too strong, are to be preferred. If too weak, they require to be drunk soon, and then they produce wind and flatulencies in the stomach. If kept too long, they turn sour, and then become unwholesome. On the other hand, strong liquor, by hurting the digestion, tends to weaken and relax: it also keeps up a constant fever, which exhausts the spirits, inflames the blood, and disposes the body to numberless diseases. Beer, cider, and other family liquors, should be of such strength as to keep till they are ripe, and then they should be used. Persons of a weak and relaxed habit should avoid every thing hard of digestion: their diet requires to be light and nourishing, and they should take sufficient exercise in the open air. Those who abound with blood, should abstain from rich wines and highly nourishing food, and live chiefly on vegetables. Corpulent persons ought frequently to use radish, garlic, or such things as promote perspiration. Their drink should be tea, coffee, or the like; they ought also to take much exercise, and but little sleep. Those who are of a thin habit, should follow the opposite course. Such as are troubled with sour risings in the stomach, should live chiefly on animal food; and those who are afflicted with hot risings and heartburn, should have a diet of acid vegetables. Persons of low spirits, and subject to nervous disorders, should avoid all flatulent food, whatever is hard of digestion, or apt to turn sour on the stomach. Their diet should be light, cool, and of an opening nature; not only suited to the age and constitution, but also to the manner of life. A sedentary person should live more sparingly than one who labours hard without doors, and those who are afflicted with any particular disease ought to avoid such aliment as has a tendency to increase it. Those afflicted with the gravel ought to avoid every thing astringent; and the scorbutic of every description, salted or smoked provisions. In the first period of life, the food should be light, but nourishing, and frequently taken. For infants in particular, it ought to be adapted to their age, and the strength of their digestive powers. No food whatever that has been prepared for many hours should be given them, especially after being warmed up; for it creates flatulence, heartburn, and a variety of other disorders. Sudden changes from liquid to solid food should be avoided, as well as a multiplicity of different kinds; and all stimulating dishes and heating liquors, prepared for adults, should be carefully withheld from children. The common but indecent practice of introducing chewed victuals into their mouth, is equally disgusting and unwholesome. Solid food is most proper for the state of manhood, but it ought not to be too uniform. Nature has provided a great variety for the use of man, and given him an appetite suited to that variety: the constant use of one kind of food therefore is not good for the constitution, though any great or sudden change in diet ought as well to be avoided. The change should be gradual, as any sudden transition from a low to a rich and luxurious mode of living, may endanger health, and even life itself. The diet suited to the last period of life, when nature is on the decline, approaches nearly to that of the first: it should be light and nourishing, and more frequently taken than in vigorous age. Old people are generally afflicted with wind, giddiness, and headachs, which are frequently occasioned by fasting too long, and even many sudden deaths arise from the same cause. The stomach therefore should never be allowed in any case to be too long empty, but especially in the decline of life. Proper attention to diet is of the utmost importance, not only to the preservation of health, but in the cure of many diseases, which may be effected by diet only. Its effects indeed are not always so quick as those of medicine, but they are generally more lasting, and are obtained with greater ease and certainty. Temperance and exercise are the two best physicians in the world; and if they were duly regarded, there would be little occasion for any other. FOOD FOR BIRDS. An excellent food for linnets, canaries, and other singing birds, may be prepared in the following manner. Knead together one pound of split peas ground to flour, half a pound each of coarse sugar and fine grated bread, two ounces of unsalted butter, and the yolks of two eggs. Brown the paste gently in a fryingpan, and when cold mix with it two ounces of mace seed, and two pounds of bruised hemp seed, separated from the husk. This paste given to birds in small quantities will preserve them in health, and prompt them to sing every month in the year. FORCEMEAT. This article, whether in the form of stuffing balls, or for patties, makes a considerable part of good cooking, by the flavour it imparts to whatsoever dish it may be added. Yet at many tables, where every thing else is well done, it is common to find very bad stuffing. Exact rules for the quantity cannot easily be given; but the following observations may be useful, and habit will soon give knowledge in mixing it to the taste. The selection of ingredients should of course be made, according to what they are wanted for, observing that of the most pungent, the smallest quantity should be used. No one flavour should greatly preponderate; yet if several dishes be served the same day, there should be a marked variety in the taste of the forcemeat, as well as of the gravies. It should be consistent enough to cut with a knife, but neither dry nor heavy. The following are the articles of which forcemeat may be made, without giving it any striking flavour. Cold fowl or veal, scraped ham, fat bacon, beef suet, crumbs of bread, salt, white pepper, parsley, nutmeg, yolk and white of eggs well beaten to bind the mixture. To these, any of the following may be added, to vary the taste, and give it a higher relish. Oysters, anchovy, taragon, savoury, pennyroyal, knotted marjoram, thyme, basil, yolks of hard eggs, cayenne, garlic, shalot, chives, Jamaica pepper in fine powder, or two or three cloves. FORCEMEAT BALLS. To make fine forcemeat balls for fish soups, or stewed fish, beat together the flesh and soft parts of a lobster, half an anchovy, a large piece of boiled celery, the yolk of a hard egg, a little cayenne, mace, salt, and white pepper. Add two table-spoonfuls of bread crumbs, one of oyster liquor, two ounces of warmed butter, and two eggs well beaten. Make the whole into balls, and fry them in butter, of a fine brown. FORCEMEAT FOR FOWLS. Shred a little ham or gammon, some cold veal or fowl, beef suet, parsley, a small quantity of onion, and a very little lemon peel. Add salt, nutmeg, or pounded mace, bread crumbs, and either white pepper or cayenne. Pound it all together in a mortar, and bind it with one or two eggs beaten and strained. The same stuffing will do for meat, or for patties. For fowls, it is usually put between the skin and the flesh. FORCEMEAT FOR GOOSE. Chop very fine about two ounces of onion, and an ounce of green sage. Add four ounces of bread crumbs, the yolk and white of an egg, a little pepper and salt; and if approved, a minced apple. This will do for either goose or duck stuffing. FORCEMEAT FOR HARE. Chop up the liver, with an anchovy, some fat bacon, a little suet, some sweet herbs, and an onion. Add salt, pepper, nutmeg, crumbs of bread, and an egg to bind all together. FORCEMEAT FOR SAVOURY PIES. The same as for fowls, only substituting fat or bacon, instead of suet. If the pie be of rabbit or fowls, the livers mixed with fat and lean pork, instead of bacon, will make an excellent stuffing. The seasoning is to be the same as for fowls or meat. FORCEMEAT FOR TURKEY. The same stuffing will do for boiled or roast turkey as for veal, or to make it more relishing, add a little grated ham or tongue, an anchovy, or the soft part of a dozen oysters. Pork sausage meat is sometimes used to stuff turkies or fowls, or fried, and sent up as garnish. FORCEMEAT FOR TURTLE. A pound of fine fresh suet, one ounce of cold veal or chicken, chopped fine; crumbs of bread, a little shalot or onion, white pepper, salt, nutmeg, mace, pennyroyal, parsley, and lemon thyme, finely shred. Beat as many fresh eggs, yolks and whites separately, as will make the above ingredients into a moist paste. Roll it into small balls, and boil them in fresh lard, putting them in just as it boils up. When of a light brown take them out, and drain them before the fire. If the suet be moist or stale, a great many more eggs will be necessary. Balls made in this way are remarkably light; but being greasy, some people prefer them with less suet and eggs. FORCEMEAT FOR VEAL. Scrape two ounces of undressed lean veal, free from skin and sinews; two ounces of beef or veal suet, and two of bread crumbs. Chop fine two drams of parsley, one of lemon peel, one of sweet herbs, one of onion, and add half a dram of mace or allspice reduced to a fine powder. Pound all together in a mortar, break into it the yolk and white of an egg, rub it all up well together, and season it with a little pepper and salt. This may be made more savoury, by the addition of cold boiled tongue, anchovy, shalot, cayenne, or curry powder. FOREHAND OF PORK. Cut out the bone, sprinkle the inside with salt, pepper, and dried sage. Roll the pork tight, and tie it up; warm a little butter to baste it, and then flour it. Roast it by a hanging jack, and about two hours will do it. FOREQUARTER OF LAMB. Roast it either whole, or in separate parts. If left to be cold, chopped parsley should be sprinkled over it. The neck and breast together are called a scoven. FOWLS. In purchasing fowls for dressing, it is necessary to see that they are fresh and good. If a cock bird is young, his spurs will be short; but be careful to observe that they have not been cut or pared, which is a trick too often practised. If fresh, the vent will be close and dark. Pullets are best just before they begin to lay, and yet are full of egg. If hens are old, their combs and legs will be rough: if young, they will be smooth. A good capon has a thick belly and a large rump: there is a particular fat at his breast, and the comb is very pale. Black-legged fowls being moist, are best for roasting. FRECKLES. The cosmetics generally recommended for improving the skin and bloom of the face are highly pernicious, and ought by no means to be employed. Temperance in diet and exercise, with frequent washing and bathing, are the best means of preserving a healthful countenance. But those who desire to soften and improve the skin, may use an infusion of horseradish in milk, or the expressed juice of houseleek mixed with cream, which will be useful and inoffensive. Freckles on the face, or small discolourations on other parts of the skin, are constitutional in some cases; and in others, they are occasioned by the action of the sun upon the part, and frequent exposures to the morning air. For dispersing them, take four ounces of lemon juice, one dram of powdered borax, and two drams of sugar: mix them together, and let them stand a few days in a glass bottle till the liquid is fit for use, and then rub it on the face. But for chaps and flaws in the skin, occasioned by cold, rub on a little plain unscented pomatum at bed-time, and let it remain till morning. Or, which is much better, anoint the face with honey water, made to the consistence of cream, which will form a kind of varnish on the skin, and protect it from the effects of cold. FRENCH BEANS. String, and cut them into four parts; if smaller, they look so much the better. Lay them in salt and water; and when the water boils, put them in with some salt. As soon as they are done, serve them immediately, to preserve their colour. Or when half done, drain off the water, and add two spoonfuls of broth strained. In finishing them, put in a little cream, with flour and butter. FRENCH BREAD. With a quarter of a peck of fine flour, mix the yolks of three and the whites of two eggs, beaten and strained; a little salt, half a pint of good yeast that is not bitter, and as much lukewarm milk as will work it into a thin light dough. Stir it about, but do not knead it. Divide the dough into three parts, put them into wooden dishes, set them to rise, then turn them out into the oven, which must be quick, and rasp the bread when done. FRENCH DUMPLINGS. Grate a penny loaf, add half a pound of currants, three quarters of a pound of beef suet finely shred, and half a grated nutmeg. Beat up the yolks of three eggs with three spoonfuls of cream, as much white wine, and a little sugar. Mix all together, work it up into a paste, make it into dumplings of a convenient size, and tie them up in cloths. Put them into boiling water, and let them boil three quarters of an hour. FRENCH PIE. Lay a puff paste round the edge of the dish, and put in either slices of veal, rabbits or chickens jointed; with forcemeat balls, sweetbreads cut in pieces, artichoke bottoms, and a few truffles. FRENCH PORRIDGE. Stir together some oatmeal and water, and pour off the latter. Put fresh in, stir it well, and let it stand till the next day. Strain it through a fine sieve, and boil the water, which must be small in quantity, adding some milk while it is doing. With the addition of toast, this is much in request abroad, for the breakfast of weakly persons. FRENCH PUDDING. Grate six ounces of brown bread, and shred half a pound of suet. Add four eggs well beaten, half a pound of currants picked and washed, a quarter of a pound of sugar, and a little nutmeg. Mix all together, tie the pudding up close in a cloth, and boil it two hours. Serve it up with a sauce of melted butter, a little sugar and sweet wine. FRENCH ROLLS. Rub one ounce of butter into a pound of flour; mix one egg beaten, a little yeast that is not bitter, and as much milk as will make the dough tolerably stiff. Beat it well, but do not knead it: let it rise, and bake it on tins. FRENCH SALAD. Mince up three anchovies, a shalot, and some parsley. Put them into a bowl with two table-spoonfuls of vinegar, one of oil, and a little salt and mustard. When well mixed, add by degrees some cold roast or boiled meat in very thin slices: put in a few at a time, not exceeding two or three inches long. Shake them in the seasoning, and then put more: cover the bowl close, and let the salad be prepared three hours before it is to be eaten. Garnish with parsley, and a few slices of the fat. FRICANDEAU OF BEEF. Take a nice piece of lean beef; lard it with bacon seasoned with pepper, salt, cloves, mace, and allspice. Put it into a stewpan with a pint of broth, a glass of white wine, a bundle of parsley, all sorts of sweet herbs, a clove of garlic, a shalot or two, four cloves, pepper and salt. When the meat is become tender, cover it close. Skim the sauce well, strain it, set it on the fire, and let it boil till reduced to a glaze. Glaze the larded side with this, and serve the meat on sorrel sauce. FRICANDEAU OF VEAL. Cut a large piece from the fat side of the leg, about nine inches long and half as thick and broad. Beat it with the rolling pin, take off the skin, and trim the rough edges. Lard the top and sides, cover it with fat bacon, and then with white paper. Lay it into a stewpan with any pieces of undressed veal or mutton, four onions, a sliced carrot, a faggot of sweet herbs, four blades of mace, four bay leaves, a pint of good veal or mutton broth, and four or five ounces of lean ham or gammon. Cover the pan close, and let it stew slowly for three hours; then take up the meat, remove all the fat from the gravy, and boil it quick to a glaze. Keep the fricandeau quite hot, and then glaze it. Serve it with the remainder of the glaze in the dish, and sorrel sauce in a tureen.--The following is a cheaper way of making a good fricandeau of veal. With a sharp knife cut the lean part of a large neck from the best end, scooping it from the bones a hand's length, and prepare it in the manner above directed. Three or four bones only will be necessary, and they will make the gravy; but if the prime part of the leg is cut off, it spoils the whole.--Another way is to take two large round sweetbreads, and prepare them like veal. Make a rich gravy with truffles, morels, mushrooms, and artichoke bottoms, and serve it round. FRICASSEE OF CHICKENS. Boil rather more than half, in a small quantity of water, and let them cool. Cut them up, simmer in a little gravy made of the liquor they were boiled in, adding a bit of veal or mutton, onion, mace, lemon peel, white pepper, and a bunch of sweet herbs. When quite tender, keep them hot, while the following sauce is prepared. Strain off the liquor, return it into the saucepan with a little salt, a scrape of nutmeg, and a little flour and butter. Give it one boil, and when ready to serve, beat up the yolk of an egg, add half a pint of cream, and stir them over the fire, but do not let it boil. It will be quite as good however without the egg. Without the addition of any other meat, the gravy may be made of the trimmings of the fowls, such as the necks, feet, small wing bones, gizzards, and livers. FRICASSEE OF RABBITS. Skin them, cut them in pieces, soak in warm water, and clean them. Then stew them in a little fresh water, with a bit of lemon peel, a little white wine, an anchovy, an onion, two cloves, and a sprig of sweet herbs. When tender take them out, strain off the liquor, put a very little of it into a quarter of a pint of thick cream, with a piece of butter, and a little flour. Keep it constantly stirring till the butter is melted; then put in the rabbit, with a little grated lemon peel, mace, and lemon juice. Shake all together over the fire, and make it quite hot. If more agreeable, pickled mushrooms may be used instead of lemon.--To make a brown fricassee, prepare the rabbits as above, and fry them in butter to a nice brown. Put some gravy or beef broth into the pan, shake in some flour, and keep it stirring over the fire. Add some ketchup, a very little shalot chopped, salt, cayenne, and lemon juice, or pickled mushrooms. Boil it up, put in the rabbit, and shake it round till it is quite hot. FRYING. This is often a very convenient and expeditious mode of cooking; but though one of the most common, it is as commonly performed in a very imperfect manner, and meets with less attention than the comfort of a good meal requires. A fryingpan should be about four inches deep, with a perfectly flat and thick bottom, and perpendicular sides. When used it should be half filled with fat, for good frying is in fact, boiling in fat. To make sure that the pan is quite clean, rub a little fat over it, then make it warm, and wipe it out with a clean cloth. Great care must be taken in frying, never to use any oil, butter, lard, or drippings, but what is quite clean, fresh, and free from salt. Any thing dirty spoils the appearance, any thing bad tasted or stale spoils the flavour, and salt prevents its browning. Fine olive oil is the most delicate for frying, but it is very expensive, and bad oil spoils every thing that is dressed with it. For general purposes, and especially for fish, clean fresh lard is not near so expensive as oil or clarified butter, and does almost as well, except for collops and cutlets. Butter often burns before any one is aware, and what is fried with it will get a dark and dirty appearance. Dripping, if nicely clean and fresh, is almost as good as any thing: if not clean, it may easily be clarified. Whatever fat be used, let it remain in the pan a few minutes after frying, and then pour it through a sieve into a clean bason. If not burnt, it will be found much better than it was at first; but the fat in which fish has been fried, will not serve any other purpose. To fry fish, parsley, potatoes, or any thing that is watery, the fire must be very clear, and the fat quite hot, which will be the case when it has done hissing. Fish will neither be firm nor crisp, nor of a good colour, unless the fat be of a proper heat. To determine this, throw a little bit of bread into the pan: if it fries crisp, the fat is ready: if it burns the bread, it is too hot. Whatever is fried before the fat is hot enough, will be pale and sodden, and offend the palate and the stomach, as well as the eye. The fat also must be thoroughly drained from the fry, especially from such things as are dressed in bread crumbs, or the flavour will be impaired. The dryness of fish depends much upon its having been fried in fat of a due degree of heat, they are then crisp and dry in a few minutes after being taken out of the pan: when they are not, lay them on a soft cloth before the fire, and turn them till they are dry. FRIED CARP. Scale, draw, and wash them clean; dry them in flour, and fry them in hog's lard to a light brown. Fry some toast, cut three-corner ways, with the roes; lay the fish on a coarse cloth to drain, and serve them up with butter, anchovy sauce, and the juice of a lemon. Garnish with the bread, roe, and lemon. FRIED EELS. There is a greater difference in the goodness of eels than of any other fish. The true silver-eel, so called from the bright colour of the belly, is caught in the Thames. The Dutch eels sold at Billingsgate are very bad; those taken in great floods are generally good, but in ponds they have usually a strong rank flavour. Except the middle of summer, they are always in season. If small, they should be curled round and fried, being first dipped into eggs and crumbs of bread. FRIED EGGS. Boil six eggs for three minutes, put them in cold water, and take off the shells, without breaking the whites. Wrap the eggs up in a puff paste, smear them over with egg, and grate some bread over them. Put into a stewpan a sufficient quantity of lard or butter to swim the eggs; and when the lard is hot, put in the eggs, and fry them of a good colour. Lay them on a cloth to drain. FRIED HERBS. Clean and drain a good quantity of spinach leaves, two large handfuls of parsley, and a handful of green onions. Chop the parsley and onions, and sprinkle them among the spinach. Stew them together with a little salt, and a bit of butter the size of a walnut. Shake the pan when it begins to grow warm, and let it lie closely covered over a slow stove till done enough. It is served with slices of broiled calves' liver, small rashers of bacon, and fried eggs. The latter on the herbs, and the other in a separate dish. This is the mode of dressing herbs in Staffordshire. FRIED MACKAREL. Stuff the fish with grated bread, minced parsley and lemon peel, pepper and salt, nutmeg, and the yolk of an egg, all mixed together. Serve with anchovy and fennel sauce. Or split the fish open, cut off their heads, season and hang them up four or five hours, and then broil them. Make the sauce of fennel and parsley chopped fine, and mixed with melted butter. FRIED OYSTERS. To prepare a garnish for boiled fish, make a batter of flour, milk, and eggs. Season it a very little, dip the oysters into the batter, and fry them of a fine yellow brown. A little nutmeg should be put into the seasoning, and a few crumbs of bread into the flour. FRIED PARSLEY. Pick some young parsley very clean, and put it into a fryingpan with a bit of butter. Stir it with a knife till it becomes crisp, and use it for garnishing. Or rub the picked parsley in a cloth to clean it, and set it before the fire in a Dutch oven till it is crisp. This is better than fried parsley, and may be rubbed on steaks, calf's liver, or any other dish of the kind. FRIED PATTIES. Mince a bit of cold veal, and six oysters; mix them with a few crumbs of bread, salt, pepper, and nutmeg, and a very small bit of lemon peel. Add the liquor of the oysters, warm all together in a tosser, but it must not boil, and then let it grow cold. Prepare a good puff-paste, roll it thin, and cut it into round or square pieces. Put some of the mixture between two of them, twist the edges to keep in the gravy, and fry them of a fine brown. If baked, it becomes a fashionable dish. All patties should be washed over with egg before they are baked. FRIED POTATOES. Slice them thin, and fry them in butter till they are brown; then lay them in a dish, and pour melted butter over them. Potatoes may likewise be fried in butter, and served up with powder sugar strewed over them. Any kind of fruit may be fried in the same manner, and all batter should be fried in hog's lard. FRIED RABBIT. Cut it into joints, and fry it in butter of a nice brown. Send it to table with fried or dried parsley, and gravy or liver sauce. FRIED SMELTS. Wipe them clean, take away the gills, rub them over with a feather dipped in egg, and strew on some grated bread. Fry them in hog's lard over a clear fire, and put them in when the fat is boiling hot. When they are of a fine brown, take them out and drain off the fat. Garnish with fried parsley and lemon. FRIED SOLES. Divide two or three soles from the backbone, and take off the head, fins, and tail. Sprinkle the inside with salt, roll them up tight from the tail and upwards, and fasten with small skewers. Small fish do not answer, but if large or of a tolerable size, put half a fish in each roll. Dip them into yolks of eggs, and cover them with crumbs. Egg them over again, and then put more crumbs. Fry them of a beautiful colour in lard, or in clarified butter. Or dip the soles in egg, and cover them with fine crumbs of bread. Set on a fryingpan of the proper size, and put into it a good quantity of fresh lard or dripping. Let it boil, and immediately put the fish into it, and do them of a fine brown. Soles that have been fried, eat good cold with oil, vinegar, salt and mustard. FRIED TENCH. Scale and clean the fish well, dry and lay them before the fire, dust them with flour, and fry them in dripping or hog's lard. Serve with crisped parsley, and plain butter. Perch, trout, and grayling may be done the same. FRIED TURBOT. Cut a small turbot across in ribs, dry and flour it, put it into a fryingpan, and cover it with boiling lard. Fry it brown, and drain it. Clean the pan, put in a little wine, an anchovy, salt, nutmeg, and a little ginger. Put in the fish, and stew it till the liquor is half wasted. Then take it out, put in some butter rolled in flour, with a minced lemon, and simmer them to a proper thickness. Rub a hot dish with a piece of shalot, lay the turbot in the dish, and pour the sauce over it. FRIED VENISON. Cut the meat into slices, fry it of a bright brown, and keep it hot before the fire. Make gravy of the bones, add a little butter rolled in flour, stir it in the pan till it is thick and brown, and put in some port and lemon juice. Warm the venison in it, put in the dish, and pour the sauce over it. Send up currant jelly in a glass. FRITTERS. Make them of pancake batter, dropped in small quantities into the pan: or put apple into batter, pared and sliced, and fry some of it with each slice. Currants, or very thinly-sliced lemon, make an agreeable change. Fritters for company should be served on a folded napkin in the dish. Any sort of sweetmeat, or ripe fruit, may be made into fritters. FRONTINIAC. Boil twelve pounds of loaf sugar, and six pounds of raisins cut small, in six gallons of water. When the liquor is almost cold, put in half a peck of elder flowers; and the next day six spoonfuls of the syrup of lemons, and four of yeast. Let it stand two days, put it into a barrel that will just hold it, and bottle it after it has stood about two months. FROST AND BLIGHTS. When a fruit tree is in full blossom, the best way to preserve it from frost and blights is to twine a rope upon its branches, and bring the end of it into a pail of water. If a light frost happen in the night, the tree will not be affected by it; but an ice will be formed on the surface of the water, in which the end of the rope is immersed. This experiment may easily be tried on wall fruit, and has been found to answer. If trees be infected with an easterly blight, the best way is to fumigate them with brimstone strewed on burning charcoal: this will effectually destroy the insects, and preserve the fruit. Afterwards it will be proper to dash them with water, or wash the branches with a woollen cloth, and clear them of all glutinous matter and excrescences of every kind, which would harbour the insects; but the washing should be performed in the early part of a warm day, that the moisture may be exhaled before the cold of the evening approaches. FROSTED POTATOES. If soaked three hours in cold water, before they are to be prepared as food, changing the water every hour, these valuable roots will recover their salubrious quality and flavour. While in cold water, they must stand where a sufficiency of artificial heat may prevent freezing. If much frozen, allow a quarter of an ounce of saltpetre to every peck of potatoes, and dissolve it in the water. But if so much penetrated by the frost as to render them unfit for culinary purposes, they may be made into starch, and will yield a large quantity of flour for that purpose. FROTH FOR CREAMS. Sweeten half a pound of the pulp of damsons, or any other scalded fruit. Put to it the whites of four eggs beaten, and beat up the pulp with them till it will stand up, and take any form. It should be rough, to imitate a rock, or the billows of the ocean. This froth looks and eats well, and may be laid on cream, custard, or trifle, with a spoon. FRUIT. The method of preserving any kind of fruit all the year, is to put them carefully into a wide-mouthed glass vessel, closed down with oiled paper. The glasses are to be placed in a box filled with a mixture of four pounds of dry sand, two pounds of bole-armeniac, and one pound of saltpetre, so that the fruit may be completely covered. The fruit should be gathered by the hand before it be thoroughly ripe, and the box kept in a dry place. FRUIT BISCUITS. To the pulp of any scalded fruit, put an equal weight of sugar sifted, and beat it two hours. Then make it into little white-paper forms, dry them in a cool oven, and turn them the next day. They may be put into boxes in the course of two or three days. FRUIT FOR CHILDREN. To prepare fruit for children, far more wholesome than in puddings or pies, put some sliced apples, plums or gooseberries, into a stone jar, and sprinkle among them a sufficient quantity of fine moist sugar. Set the jar on a hot hearth, or in a saucepan of boiling water, and let it remain till the fruit is well done. Slices of bread, or boiled rice, may either be stewed with the fruit, or added when eaten. FRUIT PASTE. Put any kind of fruit into a preserving pan, stir it till it will mash quite soft, and strain it. To one pint of juice, add a pound and a half of fine sugar; dissolve the sugar in water, and boil it till the water is dried up. Then mix it with the juice, boil it once, pour it into plates, and dry it in a stove. When wanted for use, cut it in strips, and make paste knots for garnishing. FRUIT PUDDINGS. Make up a thick batter of milk and eggs, with a little flour and salt; put in any kind of fruit, and either bake or boil it. Apples should be pared and quartered, gooseberries and currants should be picked and cleaned, before they are put into the batter. Or make a thick paste, roll it out, and line a bason with it, after it has been rubbed with a little butter. Then fill it with fruit, put on a lid, tie it up close in a cloth, and boil it for two hours. The pudding will be lighter, if only made in a bason, then turned out into a pudding cloth, and boiled in plenty of water. FRUIT STAINS. If stains of fruit or wine have been long in the linen, rub the part on each side with yellow soap. Then lay on a thick mixture of starch in cold water, rub it well in, and expose the linen to the sun and air till the stain comes out. If not removed in three or four days, rub off the mixture, and renew the process. When dry, it may be sprinkled with a little water.--Many other stains may be taken out by only dipping the linen into sour buttermilk, and drying it in a hot sun. Then wash it in cold water and dry it, two or three times a day. FRUIT FOR TARTS. To preserve fruit for family desserts, whether cherries, plums, or apples, gather them when ripe, and put them in small jars that will hold about a pound. Strew over each jar six ounces of fine pounded sugar, and cover each with two bladders, separately tied down. Set the jars in a large stewpan of water up to the neck, and let it boil three hours gently. Keep these and all other sorts of fruit free from damp. FRUIT TREES. When they have the appearance of being old or worn out, and are covered with moss and insects, they may be revived and made fruitful by dressing them well with a brush, dipped in a solution of strong fresh lime. The outer rind, with all its incumbrance, will then fall off; a new and clean one will be formed, and the trees put on a healthy appearance. FRUITS IN JELLY. Put half a pint of calf's foot jelly into a bowl; when stiff, lay in three peaches, and a bunch of grapes with the stalk upwards. Cover over with vine leaves, and fill up the bowl with jelly. Let it stand till the next day, and then set it to the brim in hot water. When it gives way from the bowl, turn the jelly out carefully, and send it to table. Any kind of fruit may be treated in the same way. FUEL. Coals constitute a principal article of domestic convenience, especially during the severity of winter. At that season they often become very scarce, and are sold at an extravagant price. To remedy this evil in some measure, take two-thirds of soft clay, free from stones, and work it into three or four bushels of small coals previously sifted: form this composition into balls or cakes, about three or four inches thick, and let them be thoroughly dried. When the fire burns clear, place four or five of these cakes in the front of the grate, where they will soon become red, and yield a clear and strong heat till they are totally consumed. The expense of a ton of this composition is but trifling, when compared with that of a chaldron of coals, as it may be prepared at one-fourth of the cost, and will be of greater service than a chaldron and a half of the latter. Coal dust worked up with horse dung, cow dung, saw dust, tanner's waste, or any other combustible matter that is not too expensive, will also be found a saving in the article of fuel. Nearly a third of the coals consumed in large towns and cities might be saved, if the coal ashes were preserved, instead of being thrown into the dust bins, and afterwards mixed with an equal quantity of small coal, moistened with water. This mixture thrown behind the fire, with a few round coals in front, would save the trouble of sifting the ashes, and make a cheerful and pleasant fire.----THE BEST MODE OF LIGHTING A FIRE.--Fill the grate with fresh coals quite up to the upper bar but one; then lay on the wood in the usual manner, rather collected in a mass than scattered. Over the wood place the cinders of the preceding day, piled up as high as the grate will admit, and placed loosely in rather large fragments, in order that the draft may be free: a bit or two of fresh coal may be added to the cinders when once they are lighted, but no small coal must be thrown on at first. When all is prepared, light the wood, when the cinders in a short time being thoroughly ignited, the gas rising from the coals below, which will now be affected by the heat, will take fire as it passes through them, leaving a very small portion of smoke to go up the chimney. One of the advantages of this mode of lighting a fire is, that small coal is better suited to the purpose than large, except a few pieces in front to keep the small from falling out of the grate. A fire lighted in this way will burn all day, without any thing being done to it. When apparently quite out, on being stirred, you have in a few minutes a glowing fire. When the upper part begins to cake, it must be stirred, but the lower must not be touched. FUMIGATION. To prevent infection from fever, take a handful each of rue, sage, mint, rosemary, and lavender, all fresh gathered. Cut them small, put them into a stone jar, pour on a pint of the best white-wine vinegar, cover the jar close, and let it stand eight days in the sun, or near the fire. Then strain it off, and dissolve in it an ounce of camphor. This liquid sprinkled about the chamber, or fumigated, will much revive the patient, and prevent the attendants from receiving the infection. Or mix a spoonful of salt in a cup, with a little powdered magnesia: pour on the mixture at different times a spoonful of strong vitriolic acid, and the vapour arising from it will destroy the putrid effluvia. FURNITURE LININGS. These articles require to be first washed, and afterwards dyed of a different colour, in order to change and improve their appearance.--For a Buff or salmon colour, according to the depth of the hue, rub down on a pewter plate two pennyworth of Spanish arnatto, and then boil it in a pail of water a quarter of an hour. Put into it two ounces of potash, stir it round, and instantly put in the lining. Stir it all the time it is boiling, which must be five or six minutes; then put it into cold spring water, and hang the articles up singly without wringing. When almost dry, fold the lining, and mangle it.--For Pink, the calico must be washed extremely clean, and thoroughly dried. Then boil it in two gallons of soft water, and four ounces of alum; take it out, and dry it in the air. Meanwhile boil in the alum water two handfuls of wheat bran till quite slippery, and then strain it. Take two scruples of cochineal, and two ounces of argall finely pounded and sifted, and mix it with the liquor a little at a time. Put the calico into the liquor, keep it stirring and boiling, till the liquor is nearly wasted. Then take out the calico, wash it first in chamber lye, and afterwards in cold water. Rinse it in water-starch strained, dry it quick without hanging it in folds, and let it be well mangled. It would be better still to have it callendered.--Blue. The calico must be washed clean and dried. Then mix some of Scott's liquid blue in as much water as will be sufficient to cover the things to be dyed, and add some starch to give it a light stiffness. Dry a small piece of the lining to see whether the colour is deep enough; and if approved, put it in and wash it in the dye. Dry the articles singly, and mangle or callender them. FURS. To preserve them from the moth, comb them occasionally while in use. When not wanted, mix among them bitter apples from the druggists, in small muslin bags, sewing them in several folds of linen, carefully turned in at the edges. Keep the furs in a cool place, free from damp. G. GAD FLY. Cows and oxen are often so distressed by the darts of the gad fly, that they rush into the water for refuge till night approaches. The only remedy is to wash the backs of the cattle in the spring with strong tobacco-water, which would greatly prevent the generating of these vermin. When sheep are struck with the fly, the way is to clip off the wool, to rub the parts affected with powdered lime or wood ashes, and afterwards to anoint them with currier's oil, which will heal the wounds, and secure the animals from future attack. Or dissolve half an ounce of corrosive sublimate in two quarts of soft water, and add a quarter of a pint of spirits of turpentine. Cut off the wool as far as it is infected, pour a few drops of the mixture in a circle round the maggots produced by the flies, and afterwards rub a little of it among them, and the maggots will immediately be destroyed. GAME. Game ought not to be thrown away even after it has been kept a long time, for when it seems to be spoiled it may often be made fit for eating, by carefully cleaning and washing it with vinegar and water. If there is danger of birds not keeping, the best way is to crop and draw them. Pick them clean, wash them in two or three waters, and rub them with salt. Plunge them into a kettle of boiling water one by one, and draw them up and down by the legs, that the water may pass through them. Let them remain in the water five or six minutes, and then hang them up in a cool place. When drained, season the insides well with pepper and salt, and wash them before they are roasted. The most delicate birds, even grouse, may thus be preserved. Those that live by suction cannot be done this way, as they are never drawn; and perhaps the heat might make them worse, as the water could not pass through them; but they will bear a high flavour. Lumps of charcoal put about birds and meat will preserve them from taint, and restore what is spoiling. GAME SAUCE. Wash and pare a head of celery, cut it into thin slices, boil it gently till it becomes tender; then add a little beaten mace, pepper, salt, and nutmeg. Thicken it with flour and butter, boil it up, pour some of it in the dish, and some in a boat. Lemon pickle or lemon juice may be added to it. GAMMON. Take off the rind of the ham and gammon, and soak it in water; cover the fat part with writing paper, roast, and baste it with canary. When done, sprinkle it over with crumbs of bread and parsley. Serve it with brown gravy, after it is well browned, and garnish it with raspings of bread. GARDEN HEDGES. A well trained hawthorn fence is the strongest, but as it is apt to get thin and full of gaps at the bottom, the barberry is to be preferred, especially on high banks with a light soil. It may be raised from the berries as easily as hawthorn, and will grow faster, if the suckers be planted early. The barberry puts up numerous suckers from the roots; it will therefore always grow close at the bottom, and make an impenetrable fence. In trimming any kind of close hedge, care should be taken to slope the sides, and make it pointed at the top: otherwise, the bottom being shaded by the upper part, will make it grow thin and full of gaps. The sides of a young hedge may be trimmed, to make it bush the better; but it should not be topped till it has arrived at a full yard in height, though a few of the points may be taken off. The bottom of hawthorn hedges may be conveniently thickened, by putting in some plants of common sweet briar, or barberry. GARDEN RHUBARB. To cultivate the common garden rhubarb, it should not only have a depth of good soil, but it should be watered in dry weather, and well covered with straw or dung in the winter season. It will then become solid when taken out of the ground; and if cut into large slices, and hung up in a warm kitchen, it will soon be fit for use. The plants may be taken up when the leaves are decayed, either in spring or in autumn, while the weather is dry; and when the roots are cleared from dirt, without washing, they should be dried in the sun for a few days before they are hung up. The better way would be to wrap them up separately in whited brown paper, and dry them on the hob of a common stove. Lemon and orange peel will dry remarkably well in the same manner. GARGLES. Common gargles may be made of figs boiled in milk and water, with a little sal-ammoniac; or sage-tea, with honey and vinegar mixed together. A sore throat may be gargled with it two or three times a day. GEESE. The rearing of this species of poultry incurs but little expense, as they chiefly support themselves on commons or in lanes, where they can get at water. The largest are esteemed the best, as also are the white and the grey: the pied and dark coloured are not so good. Thirty days are generally the time that the goose sets, but in warm weather she will sometimes hatch sooner. Give them plenty of food, such as scalded bran and light oats. As soon as the goslings are hatched, keep them housed for eight or ten days, and feed them with barley meal, bran, and curds. Green geese should begin to fatten at six or seven weeks old, and be fed as above. Stubble geese require no fattening, if they have the run of good fields and pasture.--If geese are bought at market, for the purpose of cooking, be careful to see that they are fresh and young. If fresh, the feet will be pliable: if stale, dry and stiff. The bill and feet of a young one will be yellow, and there will be but few hairs upon them: if old, they will be red. Green geese, not more than three or four months old, should be scalded: a stubble goose should be picked dry. GEORGE PUDDING. Boil very tender a handful of whole rice in a small quantity of milk, with a large piece of lemon peel. Let it drain; then mix with it a dozen apples, boiled to a pulp as dry as possible. Add a glass of white wine, the yolks of five eggs, two ounces of orange and citron cut thin, and sweeten it with sugar. Line a mould or bason with a very good paste, beat the five whites of the eggs to a very strong froth, and mix it with the other ingredients. Fill the mould, and bake it of a fine brown colour. Serve it bottom upwards with the following sauce: two glasses of wine, a spoonful of sugar, the yolks of two eggs, and a piece of sugar the size of a walnut. Simmer without boiling, and pour to and from the saucepan till the sauce is of a proper thickness, and then put it in the dish. GERMAN PUDDINGS. Melt three ounces of butter in a pint of cream, and let it stand till nearly cold. Then mix two ounces of fine flour, and two ounces of sugar, four yolks and two whites of eggs, and a little rose or orange flower water. Bake in little buttered cups half an hour. They should be served the moment they are done, and only when going to be eaten, or they will not be light. Turn the puffs out of the cups, and serve with white wine and sugar. GERMAN PUFFS. Mix together two ounces of blanched almonds well beaten, a spoonful of rose water, one white and two yolks of eggs, a spoonful of flour, half a pint of cream, two ounces of butter, and sugar to taste. Butter some cups, half fill them, and put them in the oven. Serve with white wine sauce, butter, and sugar. This is esteemed a good middle dish for dinner or supper. GIBLETS. Let the giblets be picked clean and washed, the feet skinned, the bill cut off, the head split in two, the pinion bones broken, the liver and gizzard cut in four, and the neck in two pieces. Put them into a pint of water, with pepper and salt, an onion, and sweet herbs. Cover the saucepan close, and stew them on a slow fire till they are quite tender. Take out the onion and herbs, and put them into a dish with the liquor. GIBLET PIE. Clean and skin the giblets very carefully, stew them with a small quantity of water, onion, black pepper, and a bunch of sweet herbs, till nearly done. Let them grow cold: and if not enough to fill the dish, lay at the bottom two or three slices of veal, beef, or mutton. Add the liquor of the stew; and when the pie is baked, pour into it a large teacupful of cream. Sliced apples added to the pie are a great improvement. Duck giblets will do; but goose giblets are much to be preferred. GIBLET SOUP. Scald and clean three or four sets of goose or duck giblets, and stew them slowly with a pound or two of gravy beef, scrag of mutton, or the bone of a knuckle of veal, an ox tail, or some shanks of mutton. Add a large bunch of sweet herbs, a tea-spoonful of white pepper, a large spoonful of salt, and three onions. Put in five pints of water, cut each of the gizzards into four pieces, and simmer till they become quite tender. Skin the stew carefully, add a quarter of a pint of cream, two tea-spoonfuls of mushroom powder, and an ounce of butter mixed with a dessert-spoonful of flour. Let it boil a few minutes, then put it into a tureen, add a little salt, and serve up the soup with the giblets. Instead of cream, it may be seasoned with a large spoonful of ketchup, some cayenne, and two glasses of sherry. GILDED FRAMES. These valuable articles cannot be preserved from fly stains, without covering them with strips of paper, and suffering them to remain till the flies are gone. Previous to this, the light dust should be blown from the gilding, and a feather or a clean brush lightly passed over it. Linen takes off the gilding, and deadens its brightness; it should therefore never be used for wiping it. Some means should be used to destroy the flies, as they injure furniture of every kind, and the paper likewise. Bottles hung about with sugar and vinegar, or beer, will attract them; or fly water, put into little shells placed about the room, but out of the reach of children. GILLIFLOWER WINE. To three gallons of water put six pounds of the best raw sugar; boil the sugar and water together for the space of half an hour, and keep skimming it as the scum rises. Let it stand to cool, beat up three ounces of syrup of betony with a large spoonful of ale yeast, and put it into the liquor. Prepare a peck of gilliflowers, cut from the stalks, and put them in to infuse and work together for three days, the whole being covered with a cloth. Strain it, and put it into a cask; let it settle for three or four weeks, and then bottle it. GINGER BEER. To every gallon of spring water add one ounce of sliced white ginger, one pound of lump sugar, and two ounces of lemon juice. Boil the mixture nearly an hour, and take off the scum; then run it through a hair sieve into a tub, and when cool, add yeast in the proportion of half a pint to nine gallons. Keep it in a temperate situation two days, during which it may be stirred six or eight times. Then put it into a cask, which must be kept full, and the yeast taken off at the bunghole with a spoon. In a fortnight, add half a pint of fining to nine gallons of the liquor, which will clear it by ascent, if it has been properly fermented. The cask must still be kept full, and the rising particles taken off at the bunghole. When fine, which may be expected in twenty-four hours, bottle and cork it well; and in summer it will be ripe and fit to drink in a fortnight. GINGER DROPS. Beat two ounces of fresh candied orange in a mortar, with a little sugar, till reduced to a paste. Then mix an ounce of the powder of white ginger, with a pound of loaf sugar. Wet the sugar with a little water, and boil all together to a candy, and drop it on white paper the size of mint drops. These make an excellent stomachic. GINGER WINE. To seven gallons of water put nineteen pounds of moist sugar, and boil it for half an hour, taking off the scum as it rises. Then take a small quantity of the liquor, and add to it nine ounces of the best ginger bruised. Put it all together, and when nearly cold, chop nine pounds of raisins very small, and put them into a nine gallon cask, with one ounce of isinglass. Slice four lemons into the cask, taking out all the seeds, and pour the liquor over them, with half a pint of fresh yeast. Leave it unstopped for three weeks, and in about three months it will be fit for bottling. There will be one gallon of the sugar and water more than the cask will hold at first: this must be kept to fill up as the liquor works off, as it is necessary that the cask should be kept full, til it has done working. The raisins should be two thirds Malaga, and one third Muscadel. Spring and autumn are the best seasons for making this wine.--Another. Boil nine quarts of water with six pounds of lump sugar, the rinds of two or three lemons very thinly pared, and two ounces of bruised white ginger. Let it boil half an hour, and skim it well. Put three quarters of a pound of raisins into the cask; and when the liquor is lukewarm, turn it, adding the juice of two lemons strained, with a spoonful and a half of yeast. Stir it daily, then put in half a pint of brandy, and half an ounce of isinglass shavings. Stop it up, and bottle it in six or seven weeks. The lemon peel is not to be put into the barrel. GINGERBREAD. Mix with two pounds of flour, half a pound of treacle, and half a pound of butter, adding an ounce of ginger finely powdered and sifted, and three quarters of an ounce of caraway seeds. Having worked it very much, set it to rise before the fire. Then roll out the paste, cut it into any shape, and bake it on tins. If to be made into sweetmeats, add some candied orange-peel, shred into small pieces.--Another sort. To three quarters of a pound of treacle, put one egg beaten and strained. Mix together four ounces of brown sugar, half an ounce of sifted ginger, and a quarter of an ounce each of cloves, mace, allspice, and nutmeg, beaten as fine as possible; also a quarter of an ounce of coriander and caraway seeds. Melt a pound of butter, and mix with the above, adding as much flour as will knead it into a pretty stiff paste. Roll it out, cut it into cakes, bake them on tin plates in a quick oven, and a little time will do them. Gingerbread buttons or drops may be made of a part of the paste.--A plain sort of gingerbread may be prepared as follows. Mix three pounds of flour with half a pound of butter, four ounces of brown sugar, and half an ounce of pounded ginger. Make it into a paste, with a pound and a quarter of warm treacle. Or make the gingerbread without butter, by mixing two pounds of treacle with the following ingredients. Four ounces each of orange, lemon, citron, and candied ginger, all thinly sliced; one ounce each of coriander seeds, caraways, and pounded ginger, adding as much flour as will make it into a soft paste. Lay it in cakes on tin plates, and bake it in a quick oven. Keep it dry in a covered earthen vessel, and the gingerbread will be good for some months. If cakes or biscuits be kept in paper, or a drawer, the taste will be disagreeable. A tureen, or a pan and cover, will preserve them long and moist; or if intended to be crisp, laying them before the fire, or keeping them in a dry canister, will make them so. GINGERBREAD NUTS. Carefully melt half a pound of butter, and stir it up in two pounds of treacle. Add an ounce of pounded ginger, two ounces of preserved lemon and orange peel, two ounces of preserved angelica cut small, one of coriander seed pounded, and the same of caraway whole. Mix them together, with two eggs, and as much flour as will bring it to a fine paste. Make it into nuts, put them on a tin plate, and bake them in a quick oven. GLASS. Broken glass may be mended with the same cement as china, or if it be only cracked, it will be sufficient to moisten the part with the white of an egg, strewing it over with a little powdered lime, and instantly applying a piece of fine linen. Another cement for glass is prepared from two parts of litharge, one of quick lime, and one of flint glass, each separately and finely powdered, and the whole worked up into a paste with drying oil. This compound is very durable, and acquires a greater degree of hardness when immersed in water. GLASSES. These frail and expensive articles may be rendered less brittle, and better able to bear sudden changes of temperature, by first plunging them into cold water, then gradually heating the water till it boils, and suffering it to cool in the open air. Glasses of every description, used for the table, will afterwards bear boiling water suddenly poured into them, without breaking. When they have been tarnished by age or accident, their lustre may be restored by strewing on them some fuller's earth, carefully powdered and cleared of sand and dirt, and then rubbing them gently with a linen cloth, or a little putty. GLOVES. Leather gloves may be repaired, cleaned, and dyed of a fine yellow, by steeping a little saffron in boiling water for about twelve hours; and having lightly sewed up the tops of the gloves, to prevent the dye from staining the insides, wet them over with a sponge or soft brush dipped in the liquid. A teacupful will be sufficient for a single pair. GLOUCESTER CHEESE. This article is made of milk immediately from the cow; and if it be too hot in the summer, a little skim milk or water is added to it, before the rennet is put in. As soon as the curd is come it is broken small, and cleared of the whey. The curd is set in the press for about a quarter of an hour, in order to extract the remainder of the liquid. It is then put into the cheese tub again, broken small, and scalded with water mixed with a little whey. When the curd is settled, the liquor is poured off; the curd is put into a vat, and worked up with a little salt when about half full. The vat is then filled up, and the whole is turned two or three times in it, the edges being pared, and the middle rounded up at each turning. At length, the curd being put into a cloth, it is placed in the press, then laid on the shelves, and turned every day till it becomes sufficiently firm to bear washing. GLOUCESTER JELLY. Take rice, sago, pearl barley, hartshorn shavings, and eringo root, each one ounce. Simmer with three pints of water till reduced to one, and then strain it. When cold it will be a jelly; of which give, dissolved in wine, milk, or broth, in change with other nourishment. GNATS. The stings of these troublesome insects are generally attended with a painful swelling. One of the most effectual remedies consists of an equal mixture of turpentine and sweet oil, which should immediately be applied to the wounded part, and it will afford relief in a little time. Olive oil alone, unsalted butter, or fresh lard, if rubbed on without delay, will also be found to answer the same purpose. They may be destroyed by fumigation, the same as for flies. GOLD. To clean gold, and restore its lustre, dissolve a little sal ammoniac in common wine. Boil the gold in it, and it will soon recover its brilliance. To clean gold or silver lace, sew it up in a linen cloth, and boil it with two ounces of soap in a pint of water: afterwards wash the lace in clear water. When the lace happens to be tarnished, the best liquor for restoring its lustre is spirits of wine, which should be warmed before it is applied. This application will also preserve the colour of silk or embroidery. GOLD RINGS. If a ring sticks tight on the finger, and cannot easily be removed, touch it with mercury, and it will become so brittle that a slight blow will break it. GOOSE FEATHERS. These being deemed particularly valuable, the birds in some counties are plucked four or five times in a year. The first operation is performed in the spring for feathers and quills, and is repeated for feathers only, between that period and Michaelmas. Though the plucking of geese appears to be a barbarous custom, yet experience has proved, that if carefully done, the birds thrive better, and are more healthy, when stripped of their feathers, than if they were left to drop them by moulting. Geese intended for breeding in farm yards, and which are called old geese, may be plucked three times a year, at an interval of seven weeks, but not oftener. Every one should be thirteen or fourteen weeks old before they are subject to this operation, or they are liable to perish in cold summers; and if intended for the table, they would become poor and lose their quality, were they stripped of their feathers at an earlier period. GOOSE PIE. Quarter a goose, season it well, put it in a baking dish, and lay pieces of butter over it. Put on a raised crust, and bake it in a moderate oven. To make a richer pie, forcemeat may be added, and slices of tongue. Duck pie is made in the same manner. GOOSE SAUCE. Put into melted butter a spoonful of sorrel juice, a little sugar, and some scalded gooseberries. Pour it into boats, and send it hot to table. GOOSEBERRY FOOL. Put the fruit into a stone jar, with some good Lisbon sugar. Set the jar on a stove, or in a saucepan of water over the fire: if the former, a large spoonful of water should be added to the fruit. When it is done enough to pulp, press it through a cullender. Have ready a sufficient quantity of new milk, and a tea-cupful of raw cream, boiled together, or an egg instead of the latter. When cold, sweeten it pretty well with fine Lisbon sugar, and mix the pulp with it by degrees. GOOSEBERRY HOPS. Gather the largest green gooseberries of the walnut kind, and slit the tops into four quarters, leaving the stalk end whole. Pick out the seeds, and with a strong needle and thread fasten five or six together, by running the thread through the bottoms, till they are of the size of a hop. Lay vine leaves at the bottom of a tin preserving-pan, cover them with the hops, then a layer of leaves, and so on: lay a good many on the top, and fill the pan with water. Stop it down so close that no steam can escape, set it by a slow fire till scalding hot, and then take it off to cool. Repeat the operation till the gooseberries, on being opened, are found to be of a good green. Then drain them on sieves, and make a thin syrup of a pound of sugar to a pint of water, well boiled and skimmed. When the syrup is half cold, put in the fruit; give it a boil up, and repeat it thrice. Gooseberry hops look well and eat best dried, and in this case they may be set to dry in a week. But if to be kept moist, make a syrup in the above proportions, adding a slice of ginger in the boiling. When skimmed and clear, give the gooseberries one boil, and pour the syrup cold over them. If found too sour, a little sugar may be added, before the hops that are for drying receive their last boil. The extra syrup will serve for pies, or go towards other sweetmeats. GOOSEBERRY JAM. Gather some ripe gooseberries, of the clear white or green sort, pick them clean and weigh them. Allow three quarters of a pound of lump sugar to a pound of fruit, and half a pint of water. Boil and skim the sugar and water, then put in the fruit, and boil it gently till it is quite clear. Break the gooseberries into jam, and put into small pots.--Another. Gather some ripe gooseberries in dry weather, of the red hairy sort, and pick off the heads and tails. Put twelve pounds of them into a preserving pan, with a pint of currant juice, drawn as for jelly. Boil them pretty quick, and beat them with a spoon; when they begin to break, add six pounds of white Lisbon sugar, and simmer them slowly to a jam. They require long boiling, or they will not keep; but they make an excellent jam for tarts and puffs. When the jam is put into jars, examine it after two or three days; and if the syrup and fruit separate, the whole must be boiled again. In making white gooseberry jam, clarified sugar should be used; and in all cases great care must be taken to prevent the fruit from burning to the bottom of the pan. GOOSEBERRY PUDDING. Stew some gooseberries in a jar over a hot hearth, or in a saucepan of water, till reduced to a pulp. Take a pint of the juice pressed through a coarse sieve, and mix it with three eggs beaten and strained. Add an ounce and a half of butter, sweeten it well, put a crust round the dish, and bake it. A few crumbs of roll should be mixed with the above to give it a little consistence, or four ounces of Naples biscuits. GOOSEBERRY TRIFLE. Scald as much fruit as when pulped through a sieve, will cover the bottom of a dish intended to be used. Mix with it the rind of half a lemon grated fine, sweetened with sugar. Put any quantity of common custard over it, and a whip on the top, as for other trifles. GOOSEBERRY VINEGAR. Boil some spring water; and when cold, put to every three quarts, a quart of bruised gooseberries in a large tub. Let them remain two or three days, stirring often; then strain through a hair bag, and to each gallon of liquor add a pound of the coarsest sugar. Put it into a barrel, with yeast spread upon a toast, and cover the bung hole with a piece of slate. The greater the quantity of sugar and fruit, the stronger the vinegar. GOOSEBERRY WINE. When the weather is dry, gather gooseberries about the time they are half ripe. Pick them clean as much as a peck into a convenient vessel, and bruise them with a piece of wood, taking as much care as possible to keep the seeds whole. Now having put the pulp into a canvas bag, press out all the juice; and to every gallon of the gooseberries, add about three pounds of fine loaf sugar. Mix the whole together by stirring it with a stick, and as soon as the sugar is quite dissolved, pour it into a cask which will exactly hold it. If the quantity be about eight or nine gallons, let it stand a fortnight: if twenty gallons, forty days, and so on in proportion. Set it in a cool place; and after standing the proper time, draw it off from the lees. Put it into another clean vessel of equal size, or into the same, after pouring out the lees and making it clean. Let a cask of ten or twelve gallons stand for about three months, and twenty gallons for five months, after which it will be fit for bottling off. GOOSEBERRIES PRESERVED. Gather some dry gooseberries of the hairy sort, before the seeds become large, and take care not to cut them in taking off the stalks and buds. If gathered in the damp, or the gooseberry skins are the least broken in the preparation, the fruit will mould. Fill some jars or wide-mouthed bottles, put the corks loosely in, and set the bottles up to the neck in a kettle of water. When the fruit looks scalded, take them out; and when perfectly cold, cork them down close, and rosin the top. Dig a trench sufficiently deep to receive all the bottles, and cover them with the earth a foot and a half. When a frost comes on, a little fresh litter from the stable will prevent the ground from hardening, so that the fruit may more easily be dug up.--Green gooseberries may also be preserved for winter use, without bedding them in the earth. Scald them as above, and when cold, fill the bottles up with cold water. Cork and rosin them down, and keep them in a dry place.--Another way. Having prepared the gooseberries as above, prepare a kettle of boiling water, and put into it as much roche alum as will harden the water, or give it a little roughness when dissolved: but if there be too much it will spoil the fruit. Cover the bottom of a large sieve with gooseberries, without laying one upon another; and hold the sieve in the water till the fruit begins to look scalded on the outside. Turn them gently out of the sieve on a cloth on the dresser, cover them with another cloth, putting some more to be scalded, till the whole are finished. Observe not to put one quantity upon another, or they will become too soft. The next day pick out any bad or broken ones, bottle the rest, and fill up the bottles with the alum water in which they were scalded. If the water be left in the kettle, or in a glazed pan, it will spoil; it must therefore be quickly put into the bottles. Gooseberries prepared in this way, and stopped down close, will make as fine tarts as when fresh from the trees.--Another way. In dry weather pick some full grown but unripe gooseberries, top and tail them, and put them into wide-mouthed bottles. Stop them lightly with new velvet corks, put them into the oven after the bread is drawn, and let them stand till they are shrunk one fourth. Take them out of the oven, fasten the corks in tight, cut off the tops, and rosin them down close. Set them in a dry place; and if well secured from the air, they will keep the year round. Currants and damsons may be preserved in the same way. GOOSEGRASS OINTMENT. Melt some hog's lard, add as much clivers or goosegrass as the lard will moisten, and boil them together over a slow fire. Keep the mixture stirring till it becomes a little brown, and then strain it through a cloth. When cold, take the ointment from the water, and put it up in gallipots. GOUT. Gouty patients are required to abstain from all fermented and spirituous liquors, and to use wine very moderately; carefully to avoid all fat, rancid, and salted provisions, and high seasoned dishes of every description. The constant use of barley bread is recommended, with large doses of powdered ginger boiled in milk for breakfast. Absorbent powders of two scruples of magnesia, and three or four grains each of rhubarb and purified kali, should be taken during the intervals of gouty fits, and repeated every other morning for several weeks. The feet should be kept warm, sinapisms frequently applied to them, and the part affected should be covered with flannel. GOUT CORDIAL. Take four pounds of sun raisins sliced and stoned, two ounces of senna, one ounce of fennel seed, one of coriander, half an ounce of cochineal, half an ounce of saffron, half an ounce of stick liquorice, and half a pound of rhubarb: infuse them all in two gallons of brandy, and let it stand for ten days. Stir it occasionally, then strain it off, and bottle it. Take a small wine-glass full, when the gout is in the head or stomach; and if the pain be not removed, take two large spoonfuls more.--Or take six drams of opium, half an ounce of soap of tartar, half an ounce of castile soap, one dram of grated nutmeg, three drams of camphor, two scruples of saffron, and nine ounces of sweet spirit of sal-ammoniac. Put them all into a wine flask in a sand-heat for ten days, shaking it occasionally till the last day or two: then pour it off clear, and keep it stopped up close for use. Take thirty or forty drops in a glass of peppermint two hours after eating; it may also be taken two or three times in the day or night if required. GRANARIES. These depositaries are very liable to be infested with weasels, and various kinds of insects. To prevent their depredations, the floors of granaries should be laid with poplars of Lombardy. GRAPES. To preserve this valuable fruit, prepare a cask or barrel, by carefully closing up its crevices to prevent access of the external air. Place a layer of bran, which has been well dried in an oven; upon this place a layer of bunches of grapes, well cleaned, and gathered in the afternoon of a dry day, before they are perfectly ripe. Proceed then with alternate layers of bran and grapes till the barrel is full, taking care that the bunches of grapes do not touch each other, and to let the last layer be of bran; then close the barrel so that the air may not be able to penetrate. Grapes thus packed will keep for a twelvemonth. To restore their freshness, cut the end of each bunch, and put that of white grapes into white wine, and that of black grapes into red wine, as flowers are put into water to keep them fresh. It is customary in France to pack grapes for the London market in saw dust, but it must be carefully dried with a gentle heat, or the turpentine and other odours of the wood will not fail to injure the fruit. Oak saw dust will answer the purpose best. GRAPE WINE. To every gallon of ripe grapes put a gallon of soft water, bruise the grapes, let them stand a week without stirring, and draw the liquor off fine. To every gallon of liquor allow three pounds of lump sugar, put the whole into a vessel, but do not stop it till it has done hissing; then stop it close, and in six months it will be fit for bottling.--A better wine, though smaller in quantity, will be made by leaving out the water, and diminishing the quantity of sugar. Water is necessary only where the juice is so scanty, or so thick, as in cowslip, balm, or black currant wine, that it could not be used without it. GRAVEL. The gout or rheumatism has a tendency to produce this disorder; it is also promoted by the use of sour liquor, indigestible food, especially cheese, and by a sedentary life. Perspiration should be assisted by gentle means, particularly by rubbing with a warm flannel; the diet regulated by the strictest temperance, and moderate exercise is not to be neglected. For medicine, take the juice of a horseradish, made into a thin syrup by mixing it with sugar; a spoonful or two to be taken every three or four hours. GRAVEL WALKS. To preserve garden walks from moss and weeds, water them frequently with brine, or salt and water, both in the spring and in autumn. Worms may be destroyed by an infusion of walnut-tree leaves, or by pouring into the holes a ley made of wood ashes and lime. If fruit trees are sprinkled with it, the ravages of insects will be greatly prevented. GRAVIES. A few general observations are necessary on the subject of soups and gravies. When there is any fear of gravy meat being spoiled before it be wanted, it should be well seasoned, and lightly fried, in order to its keeping a day or two longer; but the gravy is best when the juices are fresh. When soups or gravies are to be put by, let them be changed every day into fresh scalded pans. Whatever liquor has vegetables boiled in it, is apt to turn sour much sooner than the juices of meat, and gravy should never be kept in any kind of metal. When fat remains on any soup, a tea-cupful of flour and water mixed quite smooth, and boiled in, will take it off. If richness or greater consistence be required, a good lump of butter mixed with flour, and boiled in the soup or gravy, will impart either of these qualities. Long boiling is necessary to obtain the full flavour; and gravies and soups are best made the day before they are wanted. They are also much better when the meat is laid in the bottom of the pan, and stewed with herbs, roots, and butter, than when water is put to the meat at first; and the gravy that is drawn from the meat, should almost be dried up before the water is added. The sediment of gravies that have stood to be cold, should not be used in cooking. When onions are strong, boil a turnip with them, if for sauce; and this will make them mild and pleasant. If soups or gravies are too weak, do not cover them in boiling, that the watery particles may evaporate. A clear jelly of cow heels is very useful to keep in the house, being a great improvement to soups and gravies. Truffles and morels thicken soups and sauces, and give them a fine flavour. The way is to wash half an ounce of each carefully, then simmer them a few minutes in water, and add them with the liquor to boil in the sauce till quite tender. As to the materials of which gravy is to be made, beef skirts will make as good as any other meat. Beef kidney, or milt, cut into small pieces, will answer the purpose very well; and so will the shank end of mutton that has been dressed, if much be wanted. The shank bones of mutton, if well soaked and cleaned, are a great improvement to the richness of the gravy. Taragon gives the flavour of French cookery, and in high gravies it is a great improvement; but it should be added only a short time before serving. To draw gravy that will keep for a week, cut some lean beef thin, put it into a fryingpan without any butter, cover it up, and set it on the fire, taking care that it does not burn. Keep it on the fire till all the gravy that comes out of the meat is absorbed, then add as much water as will cover the meat, and keep it stewing. Put in some herbs, onions, spice, and a piece of lean ham. Let it simmer till it is quite rich, and keep it in a cool place; but do not remove the fat till the gravy is to be used. GRAVY FOR FOWL. When there is no meat to make gravy of, wash the feet of the fowl nicely, and cut them and the neck small. Simmer them with a little bread browned, a slice of onion, a sprig of parsley and thyme, some salt and pepper, and the liver and gizzard, in a quarter of a pint of water, till half wasted. Take out the liver, bruise it, and strain the liquor to it. Then thicken it with flour and butter, and a tea-spoonful of mushroom ketchup will make the gravy very good. GRAVY FOR WILD FOWL. Set on a saucepan with half a pint of veal gravy, adding half a dozen leaves of basil, a small onion, and a roll of orange or lemon peel. Let it boil up for a few minutes, and strain it off. Put to the clear gravy the juice of a Seville orange, half a teaspoonful of salt, the same of pepper, and a glass of red wine. Shalot and cayenne may be added. This is an excellent sauce for all kinds of wild water-fowl, and should be sent up hot in a boat, as some persons like wild fowl very little done, and without any sauce. The common way of gashing the breast, and squeezing in a lemon, cools and hardens the flesh, and compels every one to eat it that way, whether they approve of it or not. GRAVY FOR MUTTON. To make mutton taste like venison, provide for it the following gravy. Pick a very stale woodcock or snipe, and cut it to pieces, after having removed the bag from the entrails. Simmer it in some meat gravy, without seasoning; then strain it, and serve it with the mutton. GRAVY SOUP. Wash and soak a leg of beef; break the bone, and set it on the fire with a gallon of water, a large bunch of sweet herbs, two large onions sliced and fried to a fine brown, but not burnt; add two blades of mace, three cloves, twenty berries of allspice, and forty black peppers. Stew the soup till it is rich, and then take out the meat, which may be eaten at the kitchen table, with a little of the gravy. Next day take off the fat, which will serve for basting, or for common pie crust. Slice some carrots, turnips, and celery, and simmer them till tender. If not approved, they can be taken out before the soup is sent to table, but the flavour will be a considerable addition. Boil vermicelli a quarter of an hour, and add to it a large spoonful of soy, and one of mushroom ketchup. A French roll should be made hot, then soaked in the soup, and served in the tureen. GRAVY WITHOUT MEAT. Put into a bason a glass of small beer, a glass of water, some pepper and salt, grated lemon peel, a bruised clove or two, and a spoonful of walnut pickle, or mushroom ketchup. Slice an onion, flour and fry it in a piece of butter till it is brown. Then turn all the above into a small tosser, with the onion, and simmer it covered for twenty minutes. Strain it off for use, and when cold take off the fat. GRAYLINE. Having scaled and washed the fish, then dry them. Dust them over with flour, and lay them separately on a board before the fire. Fry them of a fine colour with fresh dripping; serve them with crimp parsley, and plain butter. Perch and tench may be done the same way. GREASE EXTRACTED. The ashes of burnt bones finely powdered, or calcined hartshorn, heated over the fire in a clean vessel, and laid on each side of the grease spot, if on books or paper, with a weight laid upon it to assist the effect, will completely remove it; or the powder may be wrapped in thin muslin, and applied in the same manner. When prints get foul and dirty, they may readily be cleaned in the same manner as linen is bleached, by being exposed to the sun and air, and frequently wetted with clean water. If this do not fully succeed, the print may be soaked in hot water; and if pasted on canvas, it should first be taken off by dipping it in boiling water, which will loosen it from the canvas. The dirt occasioned by flies, may be gently taken off with a wet sponge, after the print has been well soaked. Spots of white-wash may be removed by spirit of sea salt diluted with water.--If grease spots appear in leather, a different process must be pursued. A paste made of mealy potatoes, dry mustard, and spirits of turpentine, mixed together, and applied to the spot, will extract the grease from leather, if rubbed off after it has been allowed sufficient time to dry. A little vinegar may be added, to render the application more effectual. GREEN FRUIT. Green peaches, plums, or other fruit, should be put into a preserving pan of spring water, covered with vine leaves, and set over a clear fire. When they begin to simmer take them off, and take the fruit out carefully with a slice. Peel and preserve them as other fruit. GREEN GAGES. In order to preserve them for pies and tarts, choose the largest when they begin to soften. Split them without paring; and having weighed an equal quantity of sugar, strew a part of it over the fruit. Blanch the kernels with a small sharp knife. Next day pour the syrup from the fruit, and boil it gently six or eight minutes with the other sugar; skim it, and add the plums and kernels. Simmer it till clear, taking off any scum that rises; put the fruit singly into small pots, and pour the syrup and kernels to it. If the fruit is to be candied, the syrup must not be added: for the sake of variety, it may be proper to do some each way. GREEN GOOSE PIE. Bone two young green geese, of a good size; but first take away every plug, and singe them nicely. Wash them clean, and season them well with salt, pepper, mace, and allspice. Put one inside the other, and press them quite close, drawing the legs inward. Put a good deal of butter over them, and bake them either with or without a crust: if the latter, a cover to the dish must fit close to keep in the steam. GREEN PEAS. Peas should not be shelled till they are wanted, nor boiled in much water. Put them in when the water boils, with a little salt, and a lump of sugar. When they begin to dent in the middle, they are done enough. Strain them through a cullender, put a piece of butter in the dish, and stir them till it is melted. Garnish with boiled mint. GREEN PEAS PRESERVED. If it be wished to keep them for winter use, shell the peas, and put them into a kettle of water when it boils. Warm them well, without boiling, and pour them into a cullender. When the water drains off, turn them out on a dresser covered with a cloth, and put over another cloth to dry them perfectly. Deposit them in wide-mouth bottles, leaving only room to pour clarified mutton suet upon them an inch thick, and also for the cork. Rosin it down, and keep it in the cellar or in the earth, the same as other green fruit. When the peas are to be used, boil them tender, with a piece of butter, a spoonful of sugar, and a little mint.--Another way. Shell the peas, scald and dry them as above. Put them on tins or earthen dishes in a cool oven once or twice to harden, and keep them in paper bags hung up in the kitchen. When they are to be used, let them be an hour in water; then set them on with cold water, a piece of butter, and a sprig of dried mint, and boil them. GREEN PEAS SOUP. In shelling the peas, divide the old from the young. Stew the old ones to a pulp, with an ounce of butter, a pint of water, a leaf or two of lettuce, two onions, pepper and salt. Put to the liquor that stewed them some more water, the hearts and tender stalks of the lettuces, the young peas, a handful of spinach cut small, salt and pepper to relish, and boil them till quite soft. If the soup be too thin, or not rich enough, add an ounce or two of butter, mixed with a spoonful of rice or flour, and boil it half an hour longer. Before serving, boil in the soup some green mint shred fine. When the peas first come in, or are very young, the stock may be made of the shells washed and boiled, till they are capable of being pulped. More thickening will then be wanted. GREEN PEAS STEWED. Put into a stewpan a quart of peas, a lettuce and an onion both sliced, and no more water than hangs about the lettuce from washing. Add a piece of butter, a little pepper and salt, and stew them very gently for two hours. When to be served, beat up an egg, and stir it into them, or a bit of flour and butter. Chop a little mint, and stew in them. Gravy may be added, or a tea-spoonful of white powdered sugar; but the flavour of the peas themselves is much better. GREEN SAUCE. Mix a quarter of a pint of sorrel juice, a glass of white wine, and some scalded gooseberries. Add sugar, and a bit of butter, and boil them up, to serve with green geese or ducklings. GRIDIRON. The bars of a gridiron should be made concave, and terminate in a trough to catch the gravy, and keep the fat from dropping into the fire and making a smoke, which will spoil the broiling. Upright gridirons are the best, as they can be used at any fire, without fear of smoke, and the gravy is preserved in the trough under them. The business of the gridiron may be done by a Dutch oven, when occasion requires. GRIEF. In considering what is conducive to health or otherwise, it is impossible to overlook this destructive passion, which like envy is 'the rottenness of the bones.' Anger and fear are more violent, but this is more fixed: it sinks deep into the mind, and often proves fatal. It may generally be conquered at the beginning of any calamity; but when it has gained strength, all attempts to remove it are ineffectual. Life may be dragged out for a few years, but it is impossible that any one should enjoy health, whose mind is bowed down with grief and trouble. In this case some betake themselves to drinking, but here the remedy only aggravates the disease. The best relief, besides what the consolations of religion may afford, is to associate with the kind and cheerful, to shift the scene as much as possible, to keep up a succession of new ideas, apply to the study of some art or science, and to read and write on such subjects as deeply engage the attention. These will sooner expel grief than the most sprightly amusements, which only aggravate instead of relieving the anguish of a wounded heart. GRILL SAUCE. To half a pint of gravy add an ounce of fresh butter, and a table-spoonful of flour, previously well rubbed together; the same of mushroom or walnut ketchup, two tea-spoonfuls of lemon juice, one of made mustard, one of caper, half a one of black pepper, a little lemon peel grated fine, a tea-spoonful of essence of anchovies, a very small piece of minced shalot, and a little chili vinegar, or a few grains of cayenne. Simmer them all together for a few minutes, pour a little of it over the grill, and send up the rest in a sauce tureen. GRILLED MUTTON. Cut a breast of mutton into diamonds, rub it over with egg, and strew on some crumbs of bread and chopped parsley. Broil it in a Dutch oven, baste it with butter, and pour caper sauce or gravy into the dish. GROUND RICE MILK. Boil one spoonful of ground rice, rubbed down smooth, with three half pints of milk, a little cinnamon, lemon peel, and nutmeg. Sweeten it when nearly done. GROUND RICE PUDDING. Boil a large spoonful of ground rice in a pint of new milk, with lemon peel and cinnamon. When cold, add sugar, nutmeg, and two eggs well beaten. Bake it with a crust round the dish. A pudding of Russian seed is made in the same manner. GROUSE. Twist the head under the wing, and roast them like fowls, but they must not be overdone. Serve with a rich gravy in the dish, and bread sauce. The sauce recommended for wild fowl, may be used instead of gravy. GRUBS. Various kinds of grubs or maggots, hatched from beetles, are destructive of vegetation, and require to be exterminated. In a garden they may be taken and destroyed by cutting a turf, and laying it near the plant which is attacked, with the grass side downwards. But the most effectual way is to visit these depredators at midnight, when they may be easily found and destroyed. GUDGEONS. These delicate fish are taken in running streams, where the water is clear. They come in about midsummer, and are to be had for five or six months. They require to be dressed much the same as smelts, being considered as a species of fresh-water smelts. GUINEA FOWL. Pea and guinea fowl eat much like pheasants, and require to be dressed in the same way. GUINEA HENS. These birds lay a great number of eggs; and if their nest can be discovered, it is best to put them under common hens, which are better nurses. They require great warmth, quiet, and careful feeding with rice swelled in milk, or bread soaked in it. Put two peppercorns down their throat when first hatched. GUNPOWDER. Reduce to powder separately, five drams of nitrate of potass, one dram of sulphur, and one of new-burnt charcoal. Mix them together in a mortar with a little water, so as to make the compound into a dough, which roll out into round pieces of the thickness of a pin, upon a slab. This must be done by moving a board backwards and forwards until the dough is of a proper size. When three or four of these strings or pieces are ready, put them together, and with a knife cut the whole off in small grains. Place these grains on a sheet of paper in a warm place, and they will soon dry. During granulation, the dough must be prevented from sticking, by using a little of the dry compound powder. This mode of granulation, though tedious, is the only one to be used for so small a quantity, for the sake of experiment. In a large way, gunpowder is granulated by passing the composition through sieves. H. HADDOCKS. These fish may be had the greater part of the year, but are most in season during the first three months. In choosing, see that the flesh is firm, the eyes bright, and the gills fresh and red. Clean them well, dry them in a cloth, and rub them with vinegar to prevent the skin from breaking. Dredge them with flour, rub the gridiron with suet, and let it be hot when the fish is laid on. Turn them while broiling, and serve them up with melted butter, or shrimp sauce. HAIR. Frequent cutting of the hair is highly beneficial to the whole body; and if the head be daily washed with cold water, rubbed dry, and exposed to the air, it will be found an excellent preventive of periodical headachs. Pomatums and general perfumery are very injurious; but a mixture of olive oil and spirits of rosemary, with a few drops of oil of nutmeg, may be used with safety. If a lead comb be sometimes passed through the hair, it will assume a darker colour, but for health it cannot be recommended. HAIR POWDER. To know whether this article be adulterated with lime, as is too frequently the case, put a little of the powder of sal-ammoniac into it, and stir it up with warm water. If the hair powder has been adulterated with lime, a strong smell of alkali will arise from the mixture. HAIR WATER. To thicken the hair, and prevent its falling off, an excellent water may be prepared in the following manner. Put four pounds of pure honey into a still, with twelve handfuls of the tendrils of vines, and the same quantity of rosemary tops. Distil as cool and as slowly as possible, and the liquor may be allowed to drop till it begins to taste sour. HAMS. When a ham is to be dressed, put it into water all night, if it has hung long; and let it lie either in a hole dug in the earth, or on damp stones sprinkled with water, two or three days, to mellow it. Wash it well, and put it into a boiler with plenty of water; let it simmer four, five, or six hours, according to the size. When done enough, if before the time of serving, cover it with a clean cloth doubled, and keep the dish hot over some boiling water. Take off the skin, and rasp some bread over the ham. Preserve the skin as whole as possible, to cover the ham when cold, in order to prevent its drying. Garnish the dish with carrot when sent to table. If a dried ham is to be purchased, judge of its goodness by sticking a sharp knife under the bone. If it comes out with a pleasant smell, the ham is good: but if the knife be daubed, and has a bad scent, do not buy it. Hams short in the hock are best, and long-legged pigs are not fit to be pickled. HAM SAUCE. When a ham is almost done with, pick all the meat clean from the bone, leaving out any rusty part. Beat the meat and the bone to a mash, put it into a saucepan with three spoonfuls of gravy, set it over a slow fire, and stir it all the time, or it will stick to the bottom. When it has been on some time, put to it a small bundle of sweet herbs, some pepper, and half a pint of beef gravy. Cover it up, and let it stew over a gentle fire. When it has a good flavour of the herbs, strain off the gravy. A little of this sauce will be found an improvement to all gravies. HANDS. When the hands or feet are severely affected with the cold, they should not immediately be exposed to the fire, but restored to their usual tone and feeling, by immersing them in cold water, and afterwards applying warmth in the most careful and gradual manner. Persons subject to chopped hands in the winter time, should be careful to rub them quite dry after every washing; and to prevent their being injured by the weather, rub them with a mixture of fresh lard, honey, and the yolks of eggs; or a little goose fat will answer the purpose. HARD DUMPLINGS. Make a paste of flour and water, with a little salt, and roll it into balls. Dust them with flour, and boil them nearly an hour. They are best boiled with a good piece of meat, and for variety, a few currants may be added. HARES. If hung up in a dry cool place, they will keep a great time; and when imagined to be past eating, they are often in the highest perfection. They are never good if eaten when fresh killed. A hare will keep longer and eat better, if not opened for four or five days, or according to the state of the weather. If paunched when it comes from the field, it should be wiped quite dry, the heart and liver taken out, and the liver scalded to keep for stuffing. Repeat this wiping every day, rub a mixture of pepper and ginger on the inside, and put a large piece of charcoal into it. If the spice be applied early, it will prevent that musty taste which long keeping in the damp occasions, and which also affects the stuffing. If an old hare is to be roasted, it should be kept as long as possible, and well soaked. This may be judged of, in the following manner. If the claws are blunt and rugged, the ears dry and tough, and the haunch thick, it is old. But if the claws are smooth and sharp, the ears easily tear, and the cleft in the lip is not much spread, it is young. If fresh and newly killed, the body will be stiff, and the flesh pale. To know a real leveret, it is necessary to look for a knob or small bone near the foot on its fore leg: if there be none, it is a hare. HARE PIE. Cut up the hare, and season it; bake it with eggs and forcemeat, in a dish or raised crust. When cold take off the lid, and cover the meat with Savoury Jelly: see the article. HARE SAUCE. This usually consists of currant jelly warmed up; or it may be made of half a pint of port, and a quarter of a pound of sugar, simmered together over a clear fire for about five minutes. It may also be made of half a pint of vinegar, and a quarter of a pound of sugar, reduced to a syrup. HARE SOUP. Take an old hare unfit for other purposes, cut it into pieces, and put it into a jar; add a pound and a half of lean beef, two or three shank bones of mutton well cleaned, a slice of lean bacon or ham, an onion, and a bunch of sweet herbs. Pour on two quarts of boiling water, cover the jar close with bladder and paper, and set it in a kettle of water. Simmer till the hare is stewed to pieces, strain off the liquor, boil it up once, with a chopped anchovy, and add a spoonful of soy, a little cayenne, and salt. A few fine forcemeat balls, fried of a good brown, should be served in the tureen. HARRICO OF MUTTON. Remove some of the fat, and cut the middle or best end of the neck into rather thin steaks. Flour and fry them in their own fat, of a fine light brown, but not enough for eating. Then put them into a dish while you fry the carrots, turnips, and onions; the carrots and turnips in dice, the onions sliced. They must only be warmed, and not browned. Then lay the steaks at the bottom of a stewpan, the vegetables over them, and pour on as much boiling water as will just cover them. Give them one boil, skim them well, and then set the pan on the side of the fire to simmer gently till all is tender. In three or four hours skim them; add pepper and salt, and a spoonful of ketchup. HARRICO OF VEAL. Take the best end of a small neck, cut the bones short, but leave it whole. Then put it into a stewpan, just covered with brown gravy; and when it is nearly done, have ready a pint of boiled peas, six cucumbers pared and sliced, and two cabbage-lettuces cut into quarters, all stewed in a little good broth. Add them to the veal, and let them simmer ten minutes. When the veal is in the dish, pour the sauce and vegetables over it, and lay the lettuce with forcemeat balls round it. HARTSHORN JELLY. Simmer eight ounces of hartshorn shavings with two quarts of water, till reduced to one. Strain and boil it with the rinds of four China oranges, and two lemons pared thin. When cool, add the juice of both, half a pound of sugar, and the whites of six eggs beaten to a froth. Let the jelly have three or four boils without stirring, and strain it through a jelly bag. HASHED BEEF. Put into a stewpan, a pint and a half of broth or water, a large table-spoonful of mushroom ketchup, with the gravy saved from the beef. Add a quarter of an ounce of onion sliced very fine, and boil it about ten minutes. Put a large table-spoonful of flour into a basin, just wet it with a little water, mix it well together, then stir it into the broth, and boil it five or ten minutes. Rub it through a sieve, return it to the stewpan, put in the hash, and let it stand by the side of the fire till the meat is warm. A tea-spoonful of parsley chopped very fine, and put in five minutes before it is served up, will be an agreeable addition; or to give a higher relish, a glass of port wine, and a spoonful of currant jelly. Hashes and meats dressed a second time, should only simmer gently, till just warmed through. HASHED DUCK. Cut a cold duck into joints, and warm it in gravy, without boiling, and add a glass of port wine. HASHED HARE. Season the legs and wings first, and then broil them, which will greatly improve the flavour. Rub them with cold butter and serve them quite hot. The other parts, warmed with gravy, and a little stuffing, may be served separately. HASHED MUTTON. Cut thin slices of dressed mutton, fat and lean, and flour them. Have ready a little onion boiled in two or three spoonfuls of water; add to it a little gravy, season the meat, and make it hot, but not to boil. Serve up the hash in a covered dish. Instead of onion, a clove, a spoonful of currant jelly, and half a glass of port wine, will give an agreeable venison flavour, if the meat be fine. For a change, the hash may be warmed up with pickled cucumber or walnut cut small. HASHED VENISON. Warm it with its own gravy, or some of it without seasoning; but it should only be warmed through, and not boiled. If no fat be left, cut some slices of mutton fat, set it on the fire with a little port wine and sugar, and simmer it dry. Then put it to the hash, and it will eat as well as the fat of venison. HASTY DISH OF EGGS. Beat up six eggs, pour them into a saucepan, hold it over the fire till they begin to thicken, and keep stirring from the bottom all the time. Then add a piece of butter the size of a walnut, stir it about till the eggs and water are thoroughly mixed, and the eggs quite dry. Put it on a plate, and serve it hot. HASTY FRITTERS. Melt some butter in a saucepan, put in half a pint of good ale, and stir a little flour into it by degrees. Add a few currants, or chopped apples; beat them up quick, and drop a large spoonful at a time into the pan, till the bottom is nearly covered. Keep them separate, turn them with a slice; and when of a fine brown, serve them up hot, with grated sugar over them. HASTY PUDDING. Boil some milk over a clear fire, and take it off. Keep putting in flour with one hand, and stirring it with the other, till it becomes quite thick. Boil it a few minutes, pour it into a dish, and garnish with pieces of butter. To make a better pudding, beat up an egg and flour into a stiff paste, and mince it fine. Put the mince into a quart of boiling milk, with a little butter and salt, cinnamon and sugar, and stir them carefully together. When sufficiently thickened, pour it into a dish, and stick bits of butter on the top. Or shred some suet, add grated bread, a few currants, the yolks of four eggs and the whites of two, with some grated lemon peel and ginger. Mix the whole together, and make it into balls the size and shape of an egg, with a little flour. Throw them into a skillet of boiling water, and boil them twenty minutes; but when sufficiently done, they will rise to the top. Serve with cold butter, or pudding sauce. HATS. Gentlemen's hats are often damaged by a shower of rain, which takes off the gloss, and leaves them spotted. To prevent this, shake out the wet as much as possible, wipe the hat carefully with a clean handkerchief, observing to lay the beaver smooth. Then fix the hat in its original shape, and hang it to dry at a distance from the fire. Next morning, brush it several times with a soft brush in the proper direction, and the hat will have sustained but little injury. A flat iron moderately heated, and passed two or three times gently over the hat, will raise the gloss, and give the hat its former good appearance. HAUNCH OF MUTTON. Keep it as long as it can be preserved sweet, and wash it with warm milk and water, or vinegar if necessary. When to be dressed especially, observe to wash it well, lest the outside should contract a bad flavour from keeping. Lay a paste of coarse flour on strong paper, and fold the haunch in it; set it a great distance from the fire, and allow proportionate time for the paste. Do not remove it till nearly forty minutes before serving, and then baste it continually. Bring the haunch nearer the fire before the paste is taken off, and froth it up the same as venison. A gravy must be made of a pound and a half of a loin of old mutton, simmered in a pint of water to half the quantity, and no seasoning but salt. Brown it with a little burnt sugar, and send it up in the dish. Care should be taken to retain a good deal of gravy in the meat, for though long at the fire, the distance and covering will prevent its roasting out. Serve with currant-jelly sauce. HAUNCH OF VENISON. If it be the haunch of a buck, it will take full three hours and a half roasting; if a doe, about half an hour less. Venison should be rather under than overdone. Sprinkle some salt on a sheet of white paper, spread it over with butter, and cover the fat with it. Then lay a coarse paste on strong white paper, and cover the haunch; tie it with fine packthread, and set it at a distance from a good fire. Baste it often: ten minutes before serving take off the paste, draw the meat nearer the fire, and baste it with butter and a good deal of flour, to make it froth up well. Gravy for it should be put into a boat, and not into the dish, unless there is none in the venison. To make the gravy, cut off the fat from two or three pounds of a loin of old mutton, and set it in steaks on a gridiron for a few minutes just to brown one side. Put them into a saucepan with a quart of water, keep it closely covered for an hour, and simmer it gently. Then uncover it, stew it till the gravy is reduced to a pint, and season it with salt only. Currant-jelly sauce must be served in a boat. Beat up the jelly with a spoonful or two of port wine, and melt it over the fire. Where jelly runs short, a little more wine must be added, and a few lumps of sugar. Serve with French beans. If the old bread sauce be still preferred, grate some white bread, and boil it with port wine and water, and a large stick of cinnamon. When quite smooth, take out the cinnamon, and add some sugar. HAY STACKS. In making stacks of new hay, care should be taken to prevent its heating and taking fire, by forming a tunnel completely through the centre. This may be done by stuffing a sack full of straw, and tying up the mouth with a cord; then make the rick round the sack, drawing it up as the rick advances, and taking it out when finished. HEAD ACHE. This disorder generally arises from some internal cause, and is the symptom of a disease which requires first to be attended to; but where it is a local affection only, it may be relieved by bathing the part affected with spirits of hartshorn, or applying a poultice of elder flowers. In some cases the most obstinate pain is removed by the use of vervain, both internally in the form of a decoction, and also by suspending the herb round the neck. Persons afflicted with headache should beware of costiveness: their drink should be diluting, and their feet and legs kept warm. It is very obvious, that as many disorders arise from taking cold in the head, children should be inured to a light and loose covering in their infancy, by which means violent headaches might be prevented in mature age: and the maxim of keeping the feet warm and the head cool, should be strictly attended to. HEAD AND PLUCK. Whether of lamb or mutton, wash the head clean, take the black part from the eyes, and the gall from the liver. Lay the head in warm water; boil the lights, heart, and part of the liver; chop them small, and add a little flour. Put it into a saucepan with some gravy, or a little of the liquor it was boiled in, a spoonful of ketchup, a small quantity of lemon juice, cream, pepper, and salt. Boil the head very white and tender, lay it in the middle of the dish, and the mince meat round it. Fry the other part of the liver with some small bits of bacon, lay them on the mince meat, boil the brains the same as for a calf's head, beat up an egg and mix with them, fry them in small cakes, and lay them on the rim of the dish. Garnish with lemon and parsley. HEART BURN. Persons subject to this disorder, ought to drink no stale liquors, and to abstain from flatulent food. Take an infusion of bark, or any other stomachic bitter; or a tea-spoonful of the powder of gum arabic dissolved in a little water, or chew a few sweet almonds blanched. An infusion of anise seeds, or ginger, have sometimes produced the desired effect. HEDGE HOG. Make a cake of any description, and bake it in a mould the shape of a hedge hog. Turn it out of the mould, and let it stand a day or two. Prick it with a fork, and let it remain all night in a dish full of sweet wine. Slit some blanched almonds, and stick about it, and pour boiled custard in the dish round it. HERB PIE. Pick two handfuls of parsley from the stems, half the quantity of spinach, two lettuces, some mustard and cresses, a few leaves of borage, and white beet leaves. Wash and boil them a little, drain and press out the water, cut them small; mix a batter of flour, two eggs well beaten, a pint of cream, and half a pint of milk, and pour it on the herbs. Cover with a good crust, and bake it. HERB TEA. If betony be gathered and dried before it begins to flower, it will be found to have the taste of tea, and all its good qualities, without any of its bad ones: it is also considered as a remedy for the headache. Hawthorn leaves dried, and one third of balm and sage, mixed together, will make a wholesome and strengthening drink. An infusion of ground ivy, mixed with a few flowers of lavender, and flavoured with a drop of lemon juice, will make an agreeable substitute for common tea. Various other vegetables might also be employed for this purpose; such as sage, balm, peppermint, and similar spicy plants; the flowers of the sweet woodroof, those of the burnet, or pimpernel rose; the leaves of peach and almond trees, the young and tender leaves of bilberry, and common raspberry; and the blossoms of the blackthorn, or sloe tree. Most of these when carefully gathered and dried in the shade, especially if they be managed like Indian tea-leaves, bear a great resemblance to the foreign teas, and are at the same time of superior flavour and salubrity. HERBS FOR WINTER. Take any sort of sweet herbs, with three times the quantity of parsley, and dry them in the air, without exposing them to the sun. When quite dry, rub them through a hair sieve, put them in canisters or bottles, and keep them in a dry place: they will be useful for seasoning in the winter. Mint, sage, thyme, and such kind of herbs, may be tied in small bunches, and dried in the air: then put each sort separately into a bag, and hang it up in the kitchen. Parsley should be picked from the stalks as soon as gathered, and dried in the shade to preserve the colour. Cowslips and marigolds should be gathered dry, picked clean, dried in a cloth, and kept in paper bags. HESSIAN SOUP. Clean the root of a neat's tongue very nicely, and half an ox's head, with salt and water, and soak them afterwards in water only. Then stew them in five or six quarts of water, till tolerably tender. Let the soup stand to be cold, take off the fat, which will do for basting, or to make good paste for hot meat pies. Put to the soup a pint of split peas, or a quart of whole ones, twelve carrots, six turnips, six potatoes, six large onions, a bunch of sweet herbs, and two heads of celery. Simmer them without the meat, till the vegetables are done enough to pulp with the peas through a sieve; and the soup will then be about the thickness of cream. Season it with pepper, salt, mace, allspice, a clove or two, and a little cayenne, all in fine powder. If the peas are bad, and the soup not thick enough, boil in it a slice of roll, and pass it through the cullender; or add a little rice flour, mixing it by degrees.--To make a ragout with the above, cut the nicest part of the head, the kernels, and part of the fat from the root of the tongue, into small thick pieces. Rub these with some of the above seasoning, putting them into a quart of the liquor reserved for that purpose before the vegetables were added; flour them well, and simmer till they are nicely tender. Then add a little mushroom and walnut ketchup, a little soy, a glass of port wine, and a tea-spoonful of made mustard, and boil all up together. Serve with small eggs and forcemeat balls. This furnishes an excellent soup and a ragout at a small expense. HICCOUGH. A few small draughts of water in quick succession, or a tea-spoonful of vinegar, will often afford immediate relief. Peppermint water mixed with a few drops of vitriolic acid may be taken; and sometimes sneezing, or the stench of an extinguished tallow candle, has been found sufficient. HIND QUARTER OF LAMB. Boil the leg in a floured cloth an hour and a quarter; cut the loin into chops, fry them, lay them round the leg, with a bit of parsley on each, and serve it up with spinach or brocoli. HIND QUARTER OF PIG. To dress this joint lamb fashion, take off the skin, roast it, and serve it up with mint sauce. A leg of lamb stuffed like a leg of pork, and roasted, with drawn gravy, is very good. A loin of mutton also, stuffed like a hare, and basted with milk. Put gravy in the dish, served with currant jelly, or any other sauce. HIVING OF BEES. When it is intended to introduce a swarm of bees into a new hive, it must be thoroughly cleaned, and the inside rubbed with virgin wax. A piece of nice honeycomb, made of very white wax, and about nine inches long, should be hung on the cross bars near the top of the hive, to form a kind of nest for the bees, and excite them to continue their work. The new hive being thus prepared, is then to be placed under an old one, before the bees begin to swarm, in such a manner as to be quite close, and to leave the bees no passage except into the new hive. As these insects generally work downwards, they will soon get into their new habitation; and when it is occupied by one half of the swarm, some holes must be made in the top of the old hive, and kept covered till the proper time of making use of them. Preparation being thus made, take the opportunity of a fine morning, about eight or nine o'clock, at which time most of the bees are out, gathering their harvest. The comb is to be cut through by means of a piece of iron wire, and the old hive separated from the new one. An assistant must immediately place the cover, which should be previously fitted, upon the top of the new one. The old hive is then to be taken to the distance of twenty or thirty yards, and placed firm upon a bench or table, but so as to leave a free space both above and below. The holes at the top being opened, one of the new boxes is to be placed on the top of the old hive, having the cover loosely fastened on it; and is to be done in such a manner, by closing the intervals between them with linen cloths, that the bees on going out by the holes on the top of the old hive can only go into the new one. But in order to drive the bees into the new hive, some live coals must be placed under the old one, upon which some linen may be thrown, to produce a volume of smoke; and the bees feeling the annoyance, will ascend to the top of the old hive, and at length will go through the holes into the new one. When they have nearly all entered, it is to be removed gently from the old hive, and placed under the box already mentioned, the top or cover having been taken off. If it should appear the next morning that the two boxes, of which the new hive is now composed, do not afford sufficient room for the bees, a third or fourth box may be added, under the others, as their work goes on, changing them from time to time so long as the season permits the bees to gather wax and honey. When a new swarm is to be hived, the boxes prepared as above and proportioned to the size of the swarm, are to be brought near the place where the bees have settled. The upper box with the cover upon it, must be taken from the others. The cross bars at the top should be smeared with honey and water, the doors must be closed, the box turned upside down, and held under the swarm, which is then to be shaken into it as into a common hive. When the whole swarm is in the box, it is to be carried to the other boxes, previously placed in their destined situation, and carefully put upon them. The interstices are to be closed with cement, and all the little doors closed, except the lowest, through which the bees are to pass. The hive should be shaded from the sun for a few days, that the bees may not be tempted to leave their new habitation. It is more advantageous however to form artificial swarms, than to collect those which abandon their native hives; and the hive here recommended is more particularly adapted to that purpose. By this mode of treatment, we not only avoid the inconveniences which attend the procuring of swarms in the common way, but obtain the advantage of having the hives always well stocked, which is of greater consequence than merely to increase their number; for it has been observed, that if a hive of four thousand bees give six pounds of honey, one of eight thousand will give twenty-four pounds. On this principle it is proper to unite two or more hives, when they happen to be thickly stocked. This may be done by scattering a few handfuls of balm in those hives which are to be united, which by giving them the same smell, they will be unable to distinguish one another. After this preparation, the hives are to be joined by placing them one upon the other, in the evening when they are at rest, and taking away those boxes which are nearly empty. All the little doors must be closed, except the lowest.----If bees are kept in single straw hives in the usual way, the manner of hiving them is somewhat different. They are first allowed to swarm, and having settled, they are then taken to the hive. If they fix on the lower branch of a tree, it may be cut off and laid on a cloth, and the hive placed over it, so as to leave room for the bees to ascend into it. If the queen can be found, and put into the hive, the rest will soon follow. But if it be difficult to reach them, let them remain where they have settled till the evening, when there will be less danger of escaping. After this the hive is to be placed in the apiary, cemented round the bottom, and covered from the wet at top. The usual method of uniting swarms, is by spreading a cloth at night upon the ground close to the hive, in which the hive with the new swarm is to be placed. By giving a smart stroke on the top of the hive, all the bees will drop into a cluster upon the cloth. Then take another hive from the beehouse, and place it over the bees, when they will ascend into it, and mix with those already there. Another way is to invert the hive in which the united swarms are to live, and strike the bees of the other hive into it as before. One of the queens is generally slain on this occasion, together with a considerable number of the working bees. To prevent this destruction, one of the queens should be sought for and taken, when the bees are beaten out of the hive upon the cloth, before the union is effected. Bees never swarm till the hive is too much crowded by the young brood, which happens in May or June, according to the warmth of the season. A good swarm should weigh five or six pounds; those that are under four pounds weight, should be strengthened by a small additional swarm. The size of the hive ought to be proportionate to the number of the bees, and should be rather too small than too large, as they require to be kept dry and warm in winter. In performing these several operations, it will be necessary to defend the hands and face from the sting of the bees. The best way of doing this is to cover the whole head and neck with a coarse cloth or canvas, which may be brought down and fastened round the waist. Through this cloth the motion of the bees may be observed, without fearing their stings; and the hands may be protected by a thick pair of gloves. HODGE PODGE. Boil some slices of coarse beef in three quarts of water, and one of small beer. Skim it well, put in onions, carrots, turnips, celery, pepper and salt. When the meat is tender, take it out, strain off the soup, put a little butter and flour into the saucepan, and stir it well, to prevent burning. Take off the fat, put the soup into a stewpan, and stew the beef in it till it is quite tender. Serve up the soup with turnips and carrots, spinage or celery. A leg of beef cut in pieces, and stewed five or six hours, will make good soup; and any kind of roots or spices may be added or omitted at pleasure. Or stew some peas, lettuce, and onions, in a very little water, with a bone of beef or ham. While these are doing, season some mutton or lamb steaks, and fry them of a nice brown. Three quarters of an hour before serving, put the steaks into a stewpan, and the vegetables over them. Stew them, and serve all together in a tureen. Another way of making a good hodge podge, is to stew a knuckle of veal and a scrag of mutton, with some vegetables, adding a bit of butter rolled in flour. HOG'S CHEEKS. If to be dried as usual, cut out the snout, remove the brains, and split the head, taking off the upper bone to make the chawl a good shape. Rub it well with salt, and next day take away the brine. On the following day cover the head with half an ounce of saltpetre, two ounces of bay salt, a little common salt, and four ounces of coarse sugar. Let the head be often turned, and after ten days smoke it for a week like bacon. HOG'S EARS FORCED. Parboil two pair of ears, or take some that have been soused. Make a forcemeat of an anchovy, some sage and parsley, a quarter of a pound of chopped suet, bread crumbs, and only a little salt. Mix all these with the yolks of two eggs, raise the skin of the upper side of the ears, and stuff them with the mixture. Fry the ears in fresh butter, of a fine colour; then pour away the fat, and drain them. Prepare half a pint of rich gravy, with a glass of fine sherry, three tea-spoonfuls of made mustard, a little butter and flour, a small onion whole, and a little pepper or cayenne. Put this with the ears into a stewpan, and cover it close; stew it gently for half an hour, shaking the pan often. When done enough, take out the onion, place the ears carefully in a dish, and pour the sauce over them. If a larger dish is wanted, the meat from two feet may be added to the above. HOG'S HEAD. To make some excellent meat of a hog's head, split it, take out the brains, cut off the ears, and sprinkle it with salt for a day. Then drain it, salt it again with common salt and saltpetre for three days, and afterwards lay the whole in a small quantity of water for two days. Wash it, and boil it till all the bones will come out. Skin the tongue, and take the skin carefully off the head, to put under and over. Chop the head as quick as possible, season it with pepper and salt, and a little mace or allspice berries. Put the skin into a small pan, with the chopped head between, and press it down. When cold it will turn out, and make a kind of brawn. If too fat, a few bits of lean pork may be prepared in the same way, and added to it. Add salt and vinegar, and boil these with some of the liquor for a pickle to keep it. HOG'S LARD. This should be carefully melted in a jar placed in a kettle of water, and boiled with a sprig of rosemary. After it has been prepared, run it into bladders that have been extremely well cleaned. The smaller they are, the better the lard will keep: if the air reaches it, it becomes rank. Lard being a most useful article for frying fish, it should be prepared with care. Mixed with butter, it makes fine crust. HOLLOW BISCUITS. Mix a pound and a quarter of butter with three pounds and a half of flour, adding a pint of warm water. Cut out the paste with a wine glass, or a small tin, and set them in a brisk oven, after the white bread is drawn. HONES. For joining them together, or cementing them to their frames, melt a little common glue without water, with half its weight of rosin, and a small quantity of red ochre. HONEY. The honey produced by young bees, and which flows spontaneously, is purer than that expressed from the comb; and hence it is called virgin honey. The best sort is of a thick consistence, and of a whitish colour, inclining to yellow: it possesses an agreeable smell, and a pleasant taste. When the combs are removed from the hive, they are taken by the hand into a sieve, and left to drain into a vessel sufficiently wide for the purpose. After it has stood a proper time to settle, the pure honey is poured into earthen jars, tied down close to exclude the air. HONEY VINEGAR. When honey is extracted from the combs, by means of pressure, take the whole mass, break and separate it, and into each tub or vessel put one part of combs, and two of water. Set them in the sun, or in a warm place, and cover them with cloths. Fermentation takes place in a few days, and continues from eight to twelve days, according to the temperature of the situation in which the operation is carried on. During the fermentation, stir the matter from time to time, and press it down with the hand, that it may be perfectly soaked. When the fermentation is over, put the matter to drain on sieves or strainers. At the bottom of the vessels will be found a yellow liquor, which must be thrown away, because it would soon contract a disagreeable smell, which it would communicate to the vinegar. Then wash the tubs, put into them the water separated from the other matter, and it will immediately begin to turn sour. The tubs must then be covered again with cloths, and kept moderately warm. A pellicle or skin is formed on the surface, beneath which the vinegar acquires strength. In a month's time it begins to be sharp, but must be suffered to stand a little longer, and then put into a cask, of which the bunghole is to be left open. It may then be used like any other vinegar. All kinds of vinegar may be strengthened by suffering it to be repeatedly frozen, and then separating the upper cake of ice or water from it. HOOPING COUGH. This disorder generally attacks children, to whom it often proves fatal for want of proper management. Those who breathe an impure air, live upon poor sustenance, drink much warm tea, and do not take sufficient exercise, are most subject to this convulsive cough. In the beginning of the disorder, the child should be removed to a change of air, and the juice of onions or horseradish applied to the soles of the feet. The diet light and nourishing, and taken in small quantities; the drink must be lukewarm, consisting chiefly of toast and water, mixed with a little white wine. If the cough be attended with feverish symptoms, a gentle emetic must be taken, of camomile flowers, and afterwards the following liniment applied to the pit of the stomach. Dissolve one scruple of tartar emetic in two ounces of spring water, and add half an ounce of the tincture of cantharides: rub a tea-spoonful of it every hour on the lower region of the stomach with a warm piece of flannel, and let the wetted part be kept warm with flannel. This will be found to be the best remedy for the hooping cough. HOPS. The quality of this article is generally determined by the price; yet hops may be strong, and not good. They should be bright, of a pleasant flavour, and have no foreign leaves or bits of branches among them. The hop is the husk or seed pod of the hop vine, as the cone is that of the fir tree; and the seeds themselves are deposited, like those of the fir, round a little soft stalk, enveloped by the several folds of this pod or cone. If in the gathering, leaves or tendrils of the vine are mixed with the hops, they may help to increase the weight, but will give a bad taste to the beer; and if they abound, they will spoil it. Great attention therefore must be paid to see that they are free from any foreign mixture. There are also numerous sorts of hops, varying in size, in form, and quality. Those that are best for brewing are generally known by the absence of a brown colour, which indicates perished hops; a colour between green and yellow, a great quantity of the yellow farina, seeds not too large or hard, a clamminess when rubbed between the fingers, and a lively pleasant smell, are the general indications of good hops. At almost any age they retain the power of preserving beer, but not of imparting a pleasant flavour; and therefore new hops are to be preferred. Supposing them to be of a good quality, a pound of hops may be allowed to a bushel of malt, when the beer is strong, or brewed in warm weather; but under other circumstances, half the quantity will be sufficient. HOP-TOP SOUP. Take a quantity of hop-tops when they are in the greatest perfection, tie them in small bunches, soak them in water, and put them to some thin peas-soup. Boil them up, add three spoonfuls of onion juice, with salt and pepper. When done enough, serve them up in a tureen, with sippets of toasted bread at the bottom. HORSERADISH POWDER. In November or December, slice some horseradish the thickness of a shilling, and lay it to dry very gradually in a Dutch oven, for a strong heat would very soon evaporate its flavour. When quite dry, pound it fine, and bottle it. HORSERADISH VINEGAR. Pour a quart of the best vinegar on three ounces of scraped horseradish, an ounce of minced shalot, and a dram of cayenne. Let it stand a week, and it will give an excellent relish to cold beef, or other articles. A little black pepper and mustard, celery or cress seed, may be added to the above. HOUSE DRAINS. The smell of house drains is oftentimes exceedingly offensive, but may be completely prevented by pouring down them a mixture of lime water, and the ley of wood ashes, or suds that have been used in washing. An article known by the name of a sink trap may be had at the ironmongers, which is a cheap and simple apparatus, for carrying off the waste water and other offensive matter from sinks and drains. But as the diffusion of any collection of filth tends to produce disease and mortality, it should not be suffered to settle and stagnate near our dwellings, and every possible care should be taken to render them sweet and wholesome. HOUSE TAX. As the present system of taxation involves so important a part of the annual expenditure, and is in many instances attended with so much vexation and trouble, it concerns every housekeeper to be acquainted with the extent of his own liability, and of course to regulate his conveniences accordingly. It appears then, that every inhabited dwellinghouse, containing not more than six windows or lights, is subject to the yearly sum of six shillings and six-pence, if under the value of five pounds a year. But every dwellinghouse worth five pounds and under twenty pounds rent by the year, pays the yearly sum of one shilling and six-pence in the pound; every house worth twenty pounds and under forty pounds a year, two shillings and three-pence in the pound; and for every house worth forty pounds and upwards, the yearly sum of two shillings and ten-pence in the pound. These rents however are to be taken from the rates in which they are charged, and not from the rents which are actually paid. HOUSEHOLD BREAD. Four ounces of salt are dissolved in three quarts of water, and mixed with a pint of yeast. This mixture is poured into a cavity made in a peck of second flour, placed in a large pan or trough. When properly kneaded and fermented, it is divided into pieces of a certain weight, and baked. Sometimes, in farm houses, a portion of rice flour, boiled potatoes, or rye meal, is mixed with the flour, previous to kneading the dough. The rye and rice serve to bind the bread, but the potatoes render it light and spongy.--Or, for a larger quantity, put a bushel of flour into a trough, two thirds wheat and one of rye. Mix a quart of yeast with nine quarts of warm water, and work it into the flour till it becomes tough. Leave it to rise about an hour; and as soon as it rises, add a pound of salt, and as much warm water as before. Work it well, and cover it with flannel. Make the loaves a quarter of an hour before the oven is ready; and if they weigh five pounds each, they will require to be baked two hours and a half. HUNG BEEF. Make a strong brine with bay salt, common salt, and saltpetre, and put in ribs of beef for nine days. Then dry it, or smoke it in a chimney. Or rub the meat with salt and saltpetre, and repeat it for a fortnight, and dry it in wood smoke. HUNGARY WATER. To one pint of highly rectified spirits of wine, put an ounce of the oil of rosemary, and two drams of the essence of ambergris. Shake the bottle well several times, and let the cork remain out twenty-four hours. Shake it daily for a whole month, and then put the water into small bottles for use. HUNTER'S BEEF. To a round of beef that weighs twenty-five pounds, allow three ounces of saltpetre, three ounces of the coarsest sugar, an ounce of cloves, half an ounce of allspice, a nutmeg, and three handfuls of common salt, all in the finest powder. The beef should hang two or three days; then rub the above mixture well into it, and turn and rub it every day for two or three weeks. The bone must be taken out first. When to be dressed, dip it into cold water, to take off the loose spice; bind it up tight with tape, and put it into a pan with a tea-cupful of water at the bottom. Cover the top of the meat with shred suet, and the pan with a brown crust and paper, and bake it five or six hours. When cold, take off the paste and tape. The gravy is very fine, and a little of it is a great improvement to any kind of hash or soup. Both the gravy and the meat will keep some time. The meat should be cut with a very sharp knife, and quite smooth, to prevent waste. HUNTER'S PUDDING. Mix together a pound of suet, a pound of flour, a pound of currants, and a pound of raisins stoned and cut. Add the rind of half a lemon finely shred, six peppercorns in fine powder, four eggs, a glass of brandy, a little salt, and as much milk as will make it of a proper consistence. Boil it in a floured cloth, or a melon mould, eight or nine hours. A spoonful of peach water may sometimes be added to change the flavour. This pudding will keep six months after it is boiled, if tied up in the same cloth when cold, and hung up, folded in writing paper to preserve it from the dust. When to be eaten, it must be boiled a full hour, and served with sweet sauce. HYSTERICS. The sudden effusion of water on the face and hands, while the fit is on, and especially immersing the feet in cold water, will afford relief. Fetid smells are also proper; such as the burning of feathers, leather, or the smoke of sulphur, and the application of strong volatile alkali, or other pungent matters to the nostrils. To effect a radical cure, the cold bath, mineral waters, and other tonics are necessary. In Germany however, they cure hysteric affections by eating carraway seeds finely powdered, with a little ginger and salt, spread on bread and butter every morning. I. ICE FOR ICEING. To prepare artificial ice for articles of confectionary, procure a few pounds of real ice, reduce it nearly to powder, and throw a large handful or more of salt amongst it. This should be done in as cool a place as possible. The ice and salt being put into a pail, pour some cream into an ice pot, and cover it down. Then immerse it in the ice, and draw that round the pot, so as to enclose every part of it. In a few minutes stir it well with a spoon or spatula, removing to the centre those parts which have iced round the edges. If the ice cream or water be in a a form, shut the bottom close, and move the whole in the ice, as a spoon cannot be used for that purpose without danger of waste. There should be holes in the pail, to let off the ice as it thaws. When any fluid tends towards cold, moving it quickly will encrease that tendency; and likewise, when any fluid is tending to heat, stirring it will facilitate its boiling. ICE CREAMS. Mix the juice of the fruits with as much sugar as will be wanted, before the cream is added, and let the cream be of a middling richness. ICE WATERS. Rub some fine sugar on lemon or orange, to give the colour and flavour; then squeeze the juice of either on its respective peel. Add water and sugar to make a fine sherbet, and strain it before it be put into the ice-pot. If orange, the greater proportion should be of the china juice, and only a little of seville, and a small bit of the peel grated by the sugar. The juice of currants or raspberries, or any other sort of fruit, being squeezed out, sweetened, and mixed with water, may be prepared for iceing in the same way. ICEING FOR CAKES. Beat and sift half a pound of fine sugar, put it into a mortar with four spoonfuls of rose water, and the whites of two eggs beaten and strained. Whisk it well, and when the cake is almost cold, dip a feather in the iceing, and cover the cake well. Set it in the oven to harden, but suffer it not to remain to be discoloured, and then keep it in a dry place.--For a very large cake, beat up the whites of twenty fresh eggs, and reduce to powder a pound of double refined sugar, sifted through a lawn sieve. Mix these well in a deep earthen pan, add orange flower water, barely sufficient to give it a flavour, and a piece of fresh lemon peel. Whisk it for three hours till the mixture is thick and white, then with a thin broad piece of board spread it all over the top and sides, and set it in a cool oven, and an hour will harden it. ICEING FOR TARTS. Beat well together the yolk of an egg and some melted butter, smear the tarts with a feather, and sift sugar over them as they are put into the oven. Or beat up the white of an egg, wash the paste with it, and sift over some white sugar. ILIAC PASSION. This dangerous malady, in which the motion of the bowels is totally impeded or inverted, arises from spasms, violent exertions of the body, eating of unripe fruit, drinking of sour liquors, worms, obstinate costiveness, and various other causes, which produce the most excruciating pain in the region of the abdomen. Large blisters applied to the most painful part, emollient clysters, fomentations, and the warm bath, are amongst the most likely means; but in many instances, this disorder is not to be controuled by medicine. No remedy however can be applied with greater safety or advantage, than frequent doses of castor oil: and if this fail, quicksilver in a natural state is the only medicine on which any reliance can be placed. IMPERIAL. Put into a stone jar two ounces of cream of tartar, and the juice and paring of two lemons. Pour on them seven quarts of boiling water, stir it well, and cover it close. When cold, sweeten it with loaf sugar; strain, bottle, and cork it tight. This makes a very pleasant and wholesome liquor; but if drunk too freely, it becomes injurious. In bottling it off, add half a pint of rum to the whole quantity. IMPERIAL CREAM. Boil a quart of cream with the thin rind of a lemon, and stir it till nearly cold. Have ready in a dish or bowl, in which it is to be served, the juice of three lemons strained, mixed with as much sugar as will sweeten the cream. Pour this into the dish from a large tea-pot, holding it high, and moving it about to mix with the juice. It should be made at least six hours before it is used; and if the day before, it would be still better. IMPERIAL WATER. Put into an earthen pan, four ounces of sugar, and the rind of three lemons. Boil an ounce of cream of tartar in three quarts of water, and pour it on the sugar and lemon. Let it stand all night, clear it through a bag, and bottle it. INCENSE. Compound in a marble mortar, a large quantity of lignum rhodium, and anise, with a little powder of dried orange peel, and gum benzoin. Add some gum dragon dissolved in rose water, and a little civet. Beat the whole together, form the mixture into small cakes, and place them on paper to dry. One of these cakes being burnt, will diffuse an agreeable odour throughout the largest apartment. INDELIBLE INK. Gum arabic dissolved in water, and well mixed with fine ivory black, will make writing indelible. If the writing be afterwards varnished over with the white of an egg clarified, it will preserve it to any length of time. INDIAN PICKLE. Lay a pound of white ginger in water one night; then scrape, slice, and lay it in salt in a pan, till the other ingredients are prepared. Peel and slice a pound of garlic, lay it in salt three days, and afterwards dry it in the sun. Salt and dry some long pepper in the same way: then prepare various sorts of vegetables in the following manner. Quarter some small white cabbages, salt them three days, then squeeze and lay them in the sun to dry. Cut some cauliflowers into branches, take off the green part of radishes, cut celery into lengths of about three inches, put in young French beans whole, and the shoots of elder, which will look like bamboo. Choose apples and cucumbers of a sort the least seedy, quarter them, or cut them in slices. All must be salted, drained, and dried in the sun, except the latter, over which some boiling vinegar must be poured. In twelve hours drain them, but use no salt. Put the spice into a large stone jar, adding the garlic, a quarter of a pound of mustard seed, an ounce of turmeric, and vinegar sufficient for the quantity of pickle. When the vegetables are dried and ready, the following directions must be observed. Put some of them into a half-gallon stone jar, and pour over them a quart of boiling vinegar. Next day take out those vegetables; and when drained, put them into a large stock jar. Boil the vinegar, pour it over some more of the vegetables, let them lie all night, and complete the operation as before. Thus proceed till each set is cleansed from the dust they may have contracted. Then to every gallon of vinegar, put two ounces of flour of mustard, gradually mixing in a little of it boiling hot, and stop the jar tight. The whole of the vinegar should be previously scalded, and set to cool before it is put to the spice. This pickle will not be ready for a year, but a small quantity may be got ready for eating in a fortnight, by only giving the cauliflower one scald in water, after salting and drying as above, but without the preparative vinegar: then pour the vinegar, which has the spice and garlic, boiling hot over it. If at any time it be found that the vegetables have not swelled properly, boiling the pickle, and pouring it hot over them, will make them plump.--Another way. Cut the heads of some good cauliflowers into pieces, and add some slices of the inside of the stalk. Put to them a white cabbage cut in pieces, with inside slices of carrot, turnips, and onions. Boil a strong brine of salt and water, simmer the vegetables in it one minute, drain them, and dry them on tins over an oven till they are shriveled up; then put them into a jar, and prepare the following pickle. To two quarts of good vinegar, put an ounce of the flour of mustard, one of ginger, one of long pepper, four of cloves, a few shalots, and a little horseradish. Boil the vinegar, put the vegetables into a jar, and pour it hot over them. When cold, tie them down, and add more vinegar afterwards, if necessary. In the course of a week or two, the pickle will be fit for use. INDIGESTION. Persons of weak delicate habits, particularly the sedentary and studious, are frequently subject to indigestion. The liberal use of cold water alone, in drinking, washing, and bathing, is often sufficient to effect a cure. Drinking of sea water, gentle purgatives, with bark and bitters, light and nourishing food, early rising, and gentle exercise in the open air, are also of great importance. INFECTION. During the prevalence of any infectious disease, every thing requires to be kept perfectly clean, and the sick room to be freely ventilated. The door or window should generally be open, the bed curtains only drawn to shade the light, clothes frequently changed and washed in cold water, all discharges from the patient instantly removed, and the floor near the bed rubbed every day with a wet cloth. Take also a hot brick, lay it in an earthen pan, and pour pickle vinegar upon it. This will refresh the patient, as well as purify the surrounding atmosphere. Those who are obliged to attend the patients, should not approach them fasting, nor inhale their breath; and while in their apartment, should avoid eating and drinking, and swallowing their own saliva. It will also be of considerable service to smell vinegar and camphor, to fumigate the room with tobacco, and to chew myrrh and cinnamon, which promote a plentiful discharge from the mouth. As soon as a person has returned from visiting an infected patient, he ought immediately to wash his mouth and hands with vinegar, to change his clothes, and expose them to the fresh air; and to drink an infusion of sage, or other aromatic herbs. After the disorder has subsided, the walls of the room should be washed with hot lime, which will render it perfectly sweet. INFLAMMATIONS. In external inflammations, attended with heat and swelling of the part affected, cooling applications and a little opening medicine are the best adapted; and in some cases, cataplasms of warm emollient herbs may be used with advantage. INFLAMMATION OF THE EYES. In this case leeches should be applied to the temples; and after the bleeding has ceased, a small blister may be tried, with a little opening medicine. Much benefit has been derived from shaving the head, cutting the hair, and bathing the feet in warm water. If the inflammation has arisen from particles of iron or steel falling into the eyes, the offending matter is best extracted by the application of the loadstone. If eyes are blood-shotten, the necessary rules are, an exclusion from light, cold fomentations, and abstinence from animal food and stimulating liquors. For a bruise in the eye, occasioned by any accident, the best remedy is a rotten apple, and some conserve of roses. Fold them in a piece of thin cambric, apply it to the part affected, and it will take out the bruise. INFLAMMATION OF THE BOWELS. This is a complaint that requires great care. If the belly be swelled, and painful to the touch, apply flannels to it, dipped in hot water and wrung out, or use a warm bath. A blister should be employed as soon as possible, and mild emollient injections of gruel or barley water, till stools be obtained. The patient should be placed between blankets, and supplied with light gruel; and when the violence of the disorder is somewhat abated, the pain may be removed by opiate clysters. A common bread and milk poultice, applied as warm as possible to the part affected, has also been attended with great success: but as this disorder is very dangerous, it would be proper to call in medical assistance without delay. INK. To make an excellent writing ink, take a pound of the best Aleppo galls, half a pound of copperas, a quarter of a pound of gum arabic, and a quarter of a pound of white sugar candy. Bruise the galls and beat the other ingredients fine, and infuse them together in three quarts of rain water. Let the mixture stand by the fire three or four days, and then boil it gently over a slow fire; or if infused in cold water, and afterwards well strained, it will nearly answer the same purpose. Care must be taken to obtain good materials, and to mix them in due proportion. To preserve the ink from mouldiness, it should be put into a large glass bottle with a ground stopper, and frequently shaked; but if a crust be formed, it should be carefully taken out, and not mixed with the ink. A little more gum and sugar candy may be added, to render the ink more black and glossy; but too much will make it sticky, and unfit for use.--Another method is to bruise a pound of good galls, black and heavy, and put them into a stone jar. Then pour on a gallon of rain water, nearly of a boiling heat, and let it stand by the fire about a fortnight. Afterwards add four ounces of green copperas or sulphate of iron, four ounces of logwood shavings, one ounce of alum, one of sugar candy, and four of gum arabic. Let the whole remain about two days longer in a moderate heat, stir the ingredients together once or twice a day, and keep the jar slightly covered. The ink is then to be strained through a flannel, put into a bottle with a little brandy at the top, well corked, and set by for use in a temperate place. A few cloves bruised with gum arabic, and put into the bottle, will prevent the ink from getting mouldy; and if some of superior quality be required, white wine or vinegar must be used instead of water. INK POWDER. For the convenience of travellers by sea or by land, ink powders have been invented, which consist of nothing else than the substances employed in the composition of common ink, pounded and pulverized, so that it be instantaneously converted into ink by mixing it up with a little water. Walkden's ink powder is by far the best. INK STAINS. The stains of ink, on cloth, paper, or wood, may be removed by almost all acids; but those acids are to be preferred, which are least likely to injure the texture of the stained substance. The muriatic acid, diluted with five or six times its weight of water, may be applied to the spot; and after a minute or two, may be washed off, repeating the application as often as it is found necessary. But the vegetable acids are attended with less risk, and are equally effectual. A solution of lemon or tartareous acid, in water, may be applied to the most delicate fabrics, without any danger of injuring them: and the same solution will discharge writing, but not printing ink. Hence they may be employed in cleaning books which have been defaced by writing on the margin, without impairing the text. Lemon juice and the juice of sorrel will also remove ink stains, but not so easily as the concrete acid of lemons, or citric acid. On some occasions it will be found sufficient, only to dip the spotted part in the fine melted tallow of a mould candle, and afterwards wash it in the usual way. INSECTS. The most effectual remedy against the whole tribe of insects, which prey upon plants and vegetables, is the frequent use of sulphur, which should be dusted upon the leaves through a muslin rag or dredging box, or fumed on a chaffing dish of burning charcoal. This application will also improve the healthiness of plants, as well as destroy their numerous enemies. Another way is to boil together an equal quantity of rue, wormwood, and tobacco, in common water, so as to make the liquor strong, and then to sprinkle it on the leaves every morning and evening. By pouring boiling water on some tobacco and the tender shoots of elder, a strong decoction may also be made for this purpose, and shed upon fruit trees with a brush: the quantity, about an ounce of tobacco and two handfuls of elder to a gallon of water. Elder water sprinkled on honeysuckles and roses, will prevent insects from lodging on them. If a quantity of wool happen to be infected with insects, it may be cleansed in the following manner. Dissolve a pound of alum, and as much cream of tartar, in a quart of boiling water, and add two full gallons of cold water to it. The wool is then to be soaked in it for several days, and afterwards to be washed and dried. INSIDE OF A SIRLOIN. Cut out all the meat and a little fat, of the inside of a cold sirloin of beef, and divide it into pieces of a finger's size and length. Dredge the meat with flour, and fry it in butter, of a nice brown. Drain the butter from the meat, and toss it up in a rich gravy, seasoned with pepper, salt, anchovy, and shalot. It must not be suffered to boil; and before serving, add two spoonfuls of vinegar. Garnish with crimped parsley. INVISIBLE INK. Boil half an ounce of gold litharge well pounded, with a little vinegar in a brass vessel for half an hour. Filter the liquid through paper, and preserve it in a bottle closely corked. This ink is to be used with a clean pen, and the writing when dry will become invisible. But if at any time it be washed over with the following mixture, it will instantly become black and legible. Put some quicklime and red orpiment in water, place some warm ashes under it for a whole day, filter the liquor, and cork it down. Whenever applied in the slightest degree, it will render the writing visible. IRISH BEEF. To twenty pounds of beef, put one ounce of allspice, a quarter of an ounce of mace, cinnamon, and nutmeg, and half an ounce each of pepper and saltpetre. Mix all together, and add some common salt. Put the meat into a salting pan, turn it every day, and rub it with the seasoning. After a month take out the bone, and boil the meat in the liquor it was pickled in, with a proper quantity of water. It may be stuffed with herbs, and eaten cold. IRISH PANCAKES. Beat eight yolks and four whites of eggs, strain them into a pint of cream, sweeten with sugar, and add a grated nutmeg. Stir three ounces of butter over the fire, and as it melts pour it to the cream, which should be warm when the eggs are put to it. Mix it smooth with nearly half a pint of flour, and fry the pancakes very thin; the first with a bit of butter, but not the others. Serve up several at a time, one upon another. IRISH STEW. Take five thick mutton chops, or two pounds off the neck or loin; four pounds of potatoes, peeled and divided; and half a pound of onions, peeled and sliced. Put a layer of potatoes at the bottom of a stewpan, then a couple of chops, and some of the onions, and so on till the pan is quite full. Add a small spoonful of white pepper, about one and a half of salt, and three quarters of a pint of broth or gravy. Cover all close down, so as to prevent the escape of steam, and let them stew two hours on a very slow fire. It must not be suffered to burn, nor be done too fast: a small slice of ham will be an agreeable addition. IRON MOULDS. Wet the injured part, rub on a little of the essential salt of lemons, and lay it on a hot waterplate. If the linen becomes dry, wet it and renew the process, observing that the plate is kept boiling hot. Much of the powder sold under the name of salt of lemons is a spurious preparation, and therefore it is necessary to dip the linen in a good deal of water, and to wash it as soon as the stain is removed, in order to prevent the part from being worn into holes by the acid. IRON POTS. To cure cracks or fissures in iron pots or pans, mix some finely sifted lime with whites of eggs well beaten, till reduced to a paste. Add some iron file dust, and apply the composition to the injured part, and it will soon become hard and fit for use. IRON AND STEEL. Various kinds of polished articles, in iron and steel, are in danger of being rusted and spoiled, by an exposure to air and moisture. A mixture of nearly equal quantities of fat, oil varnish, and the rectified spirits of turpentine, applied with a sponge, will give a varnish to those articles, which prevents their contracting any spots of rust, and preserves their brilliancy, even though exposed to air and water. Common articles of steel or iron may be preserved from injury by a composition of one pound of fresh lard, an ounce of camphor, two drams of black lead powder, and two drams of dragon's blood in fine powder, melted over a slow fire, and rubbed on with a brush or sponge, after it has been left to cool. ISINGLASS JELLY. Boil an ounce of isinglass in a quart of water, with a few cloves, lemon peel, or wine, till it is reduced to half the quantity. Then strain it, and add a little sugar and lemon juice. ISSUE OINTMENT. For dressing blisters, in order to keep them open, make an ointment of half an ounce of Spanish flies finely powdered, mixed with six ounces of yellow basilicon ointment. ITALIAN BEEF STEAKS. Cut a fine large steak from a rump that has been well kept, or from any tender part. Beat it, and season with pepper, salt, and onion. Lay it in an iron stewpan that has a cover to fit it quite close, and set it by the side of the fire without water. It must have a strong heat, but care must be taken that it does not burn: in two or three hours it will be quite tender, and then serve with its own gravy. ITCH. Rub the parts affected with the ointment of sulphur, and keep the body gently open by taking every day a small dose of sulphur and treacle. When the cure is effected, let the clothes be carefully fumigated with sulphur, or the contagion will again be communicated. The dry itch requires a vegetable diet, and the liberal use of anti-scorbutics: the parts affected may be rubbed with a strong decoction of tobacco. IVORY. Bones and ivory may be turned to almost any use, by being softened in the following manner. Boil some sage in strong vinegar, strain the liquor through a piece of cloth, and put in the articles. In proportion to the time they are steeped in the liquor, ivory or bones will be capable of receiving any new impression. J. JAPAN BLACKING. Take three ounces of ivory black, two ounces of coarse sugar, one ounce of sulphuric acid, one ounce of muriatic acid, a lemon, a table-spoonful of sweet oil, and a pint of vinegar. First mix the ivory black and sweet oil together, then the lemon and sugar, with a little vinegar to qualify the blacking; then add both the acids, and mix them all well together. The sugar, oil, and vinegar prevent the acids from injuring the leather, and add to the lustre of the blacking.--A cheap method is to take two ounces of ivory black, an ounce and a half of brown sugar, and half a table-spoonful of sweet oil. Mix them well, and then gradually add half a pint of small beer.--Or take a quarter of a pound of ivory black, a quarter of a pound of moist sugar, a table-spoonful of flour, a piece of tallow about the size of a walnut, and a small piece of gum arabic. Make a paste of the flour, and whilst hot, put in the tallow, then the sugar, and afterwards mix the whole well together in a quart of water. JARGANEL PEARS. These may be preserved in a fine state, in the following manner. Pare them very thin, simmer in a thin syrup, and let them lie a day or two. Make the syrup richer, and simmer them again. Repeat this till they are clear; then drain, and dry them in the sun or a cool oven a very little time. They may also be kept in syrup, and dried as wanted, which makes them more moist and rich. JAUNDICE. The diet of persons affected with the jaundice ought to be light and cooling, consisting chiefly of ripe fruits, and mild vegetables. Many have been effectually cured, by living for several days on raw eggs. Buttermilk whey sweetened with honey, or an infusion of marshmallow roots, ought to constitute the whole of the patient's drink. Honey, anti-scorbutics, bitters, and blisters applied to the region of the liver, have all been found serviceable in the cure of the jaundice. JELLY FOR COLD FISH. Clean a maid, and put it into three quarts of water, with a calf's foot, or cow heel. Add a stick of horseradish, an onion, three blades of mace, some white pepper, a piece of lemon peel, and a good slice of lean gammon. Stew it to a jelly, and strain it off. When cold, remove every particle of fat, take it up from the sediment, and boil it with a glass of sherry, the whites of four or five eggs, and a piece of lemon. Boil without stirring; after a few minutes set it by to stand half an hour, and strain it through a bag or sieve, with a cloth in it. Cover the fish with it when cold. JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES. These must be taken up the moment they are boiled enough, or they will be too soft. They may be served plain, or with fricassee sauce. JUGGED HARE. After cleaning and skinning an old hare, cut it up, and season it with pepper, salt, allspice, pounded mace, and a little nutmeg. Put it into a jar with an onion, a clove or two, a bunch of sweet herbs, a piece of coarse beef, and the carcase bones over all. Tie the jar down with a bladder and strong paper, and put it into a saucepan of water up to the neck, but no higher. Keep the water boiling five hours. When it is to be served, boil up the gravy with flour and butter; and if the meat get cold, warm it up in the gravy, but do not boil it. JUGGED VEAL. Cut some slices of veal, and put them into an earthen jug, with a blade of mace, a little pepper, salt, and nutmeg. Add a sprig of sweet herbs, and a bit of lemon peel. Cover the jug close, that the steam may not escape; set it in a pot of boiling water, and about three hours will do it. Half an hour before it is done, put in a piece of butter rolled in flour, and a little lemon juice, or lemon pickle. Turn it out of the jug into a dish, take out the herbs and lemon peel, and send it to table garnished with lemon. JUMBLES. Powder and sift half a pound of fine lump sugar, and mix it with half a pound of dried flour. Beat up two eggs in a table-spoonful of orange or rose water, shred the peel of half a lemon very fine, mix the whole together, and make it into a paste. Cut the paste into fancy shapes, bake them slightly on tins, and take them out of the oven as soon as the edges begin to brown. K. KETCHUP. The liquor obtained from mushrooms, approaches the nearest to meat gravy, in flavour and quality, of any other vegetable juice, and is the best substitute for it, in any of those savoury dishes intended to please the palate. But in order to have it wholesome and good, it must be made at home, the mushrooms employed in preparing ketchup for sale being generally in a state of putrefaction; and in a few days after the mushrooms are gathered, they become the habitation of myriads of insects. In order to procure and preserve the flavour of the vegetable for any considerable time, the mushrooms should be sought from the beginning of September, and care taken to select only the right sort, and such as are fresh gathered. Full grown flaps are the best for ketchup. Place a layer of these at the bottom of a deep earthen pan, and sprinkle them with salt; then another layer of mushrooms, and some more salt on them, and so on alternately. Let them remain two or three hours, by which time the salt will have penetrated the mushrooms, and rendered them easy to break. Then pound them in a mortar, or mash them with the hand, and let them remain two days longer, stirring them up, and mashing them well each day. Then pour them into a stone jar, and to each quart add an ounce of whole black pepper. Stop the jar very close, set it in a stewpan of boiling water, and keep it boiling at least for two hours. Take out the jar, pour the juice clear from the settlings through a hair sieve into a clean stewpan, and let it boil very gently for half an hour. If intended to be exquisitely fine, it may be boiled till reduced to half the quantity. It will keep much better in this concentrated state, and only half the quantity be required. Skim it well in boiling, and pour it into a clean dry jar; cover it close, let it stand in a cool place till the next day, and then pour it off as gently as possible, so as not to disturb the settlings. If a table-spoonful of brandy be added to each pint of ketchup, after standing a while, a fresh sediment will be deposited, from which the liquor is quietly to be poured off, and bottled into half pints, as it is best preserved in small quantities, which are soon used. It must be closely corked and sealed down, or dipped in bottle cement, that the air may be entirely excluded. If kept in a cool dry place, it may be preserved for a long time; but if it be badly corked, and kept in a damp place, it will soon spoil. Examine it from time to time, by placing a strong light behind the neck of the bottle; and if any pellicle appears about it, it must be boiled up again with a few peppercorns. No more spice is required than what is necessary to feed the ketchup, and keep it from fermenting. Brandy is the best preservative to all preparations of this kind. KEEPING PROVISIONS. When articles of food are procured, the next thing to be considered is, how they may be best preserved, in order to their being dressed. More waste is oftentimes occasioned by the want of judgment or of necessary care in this particular, than by any other means; and what was procured with expense and difficulty is rendered unwholesome, or given to the dogs. Very few houses have a proper place to keep provisions in; the best substitute is a hanging-safe, suspended in an airy situation. A well-ventilated larder, dry and shady, would be better for meat and poultry, which require to be kept a proper time to be ripe and tender. The most consummate skill in culinary matters, will not compensate the want of attention to this particular. Though animal food should be hung up in the open air, till its fibres have lost some degree of their toughness; yet if kept till it loses its natural sweetness, it is as detrimental to health as it is disagreeable to the taste and smell. As soon therefore as you can detect the slightest trace of putrescence, it has reached its highest degree of tenderness, and should be dressed immediately. Much of course will depend on the state of the atmosphere: if it be warm and humid, care must be taken to dry the meat with a cloth, night and morning, to keep it from damp and mustiness. During the sultry months of summer, it is difficult to procure meat that is not either tough or tainted. It should therefore be well examined when it comes in; and if flies have touched it, the part must be cut off, and then well washed. Meat that is to be salted should lie an hour in cold water, rubbing well any part likely to have been fly-blown. When taken out of the water, wipe it quite dry, then rub it thoroughly with salt, and throw a handful over it besides. Turn it every day, and rub in the pickle, which will make it ready for the table in three or four days. If to be very much corned, wrap it in a well-floured cloth, after rubbing it with salt. This last method will corn fresh beef fit for the table the day it comes in, but it must be put into the pot when the water boils. If the weather permit, meat eats much better for hanging two or three days before it is salted. In very cold weather, meat and vegetables touched by the frost should be brought into the kitchen early in the morning, and soaked in cold water. Putting them into hot water, or near the fire, till thawed, makes it impossible for any heat to dress them properly afterwards. In loins of meat, the long pipe that runs by the bone should be taken out, as it is apt to taint; as also the kernels of beef. Rumps and edgebones of beef when bruised, should not be purchased. To preserve venison, wash it well with milk and water, then dry it with clean cloths till not the least damp remains, and dust it all over with pounded ginger, which will protect it against the fly. By thus managing and watching, it will hang a fortnight. When to be used, wash it with a little lukewarm water, and dry it. Pepper is likewise good to keep it. KIDNEY PUDDING. Split and soak the kidney, and season it. Make a paste of suet, flour, and milk; roll it, and line a bason with some of it. Put in the kidney, cover the paste over, and pinch it round the edge. Tie up the bason in a cloth, and boil it a considerable time. A steak pudding is made in the same way. KITCHEN ECONOMY. Many articles thrown away, or suffered to be wasted in the kitchen, might by proper management be turned to a good account. The shank bones of mutton, so little esteemed in general, would be found to give richness to soups or gravies, if well soaked and brushed, before they are added to the boiling. They are also particularly nourishing for sick persons. Roast beef-bones, or shank bones of ham, make fine peas-soup; and should be boiled with the peas the day before the soup is to be eaten, that the fat may be taken off. The liquor in which meat has been boiled makes an excellent soup for the poor, by adding to it vegetables, oatmeal, or peas. When whites of eggs are used for jelly, or other purposes, a pudding or a custard should be made to employ the yolks. If not immediately wanted, they should be beat up with a little water, and put in a cool place, or they will soon harden, and become useless. It is a great mistake to imagine that the whites of eggs make cakes and puddings heavy: on the contrary, if beaten long and separately, they contribute greatly to give lightness. They are also an advantage to paste, and make a pretty dish beaten with fruit, to set in cream. All things likely to be wanted should be in readiness; sugars of different sorts, currants washed, picked, and perfectly dry; spices pounded, and kept in very small bottles closely corked, but not more than are likely to be used in the course of a month. Much waste may be prevented by keeping every article in the place best suited to it. Vegetables will keep best on a stone floor, if the air be excluded. Meat in a cold dry place. Salt, sugar, and sweetmeats require to be kept dry; candles cold, but not damp. Dried meats and hams the same. Rice, and all sorts of seeds for puddings and saloops, should be close covered to preserve from insects; but that will not prevent it, if long kept. KITCHEN GARDEN. Here a little attention will be requisite every month in the year, as no garden can be long neglected, without producing weeds which exhaust the soil, as well as give a very slovenly appearance.--JANUARY. Throw up a heap of new dung to heat, that it may be ready to make hotbeds for early cucumbers, and raising of annuals for the flower garden. Dig up the ground that is to be sown with the spring crops, that it may lie and mellow. Nurse the cauliflower plants kept under glasses, carefully shut out the frost, but in the middle of milder days let in a little air. Pick up the dead leaves, and gather up the mould about the stalks. Make a slight hotbed in the open ground for young sallads, and place hoops over it, that it may be covered in very cold weather. Sow a few beans and peas, and seek and destroy snails and other vermin.--FEBRUARY. Dig and level beds for sowing radishes, onions, carrots, parsnips, and Dutch lettuce. Leeks and spinage should also be sown in this month, likewise beets, celery, sorrel, and marigolds, with any other of the hardy kinds. The best way with beans and peas, is to sow a new crop every fortnight, that if one succeeds and another fails, as will often be the case, there still may be a constant supply of these useful articles for the table. Plant kidney beans upon a hotbed for an early crop; the dwarf, the white and Battersea beans, are the best sorts. They must have air in the middle of mild days when they are up, and once in two days they should be gently watered. Transplant cabbages, plant out Silesia and Cos lettuce from the beds where they grew in winter, and plant potatoes and Jerusalem artichokes.--MARCH. Sow more carrots, and also some large peas, rouncevals and gray. In better ground sow cabbages, savoys, and parsnips for a second crop; and towards the end of the month, put in a larger quantity of peas and beans. Sow parsley, and plant mint. Sow Cos and imperial lettuce, and transplant the finer kinds. In the beginning of the month, sow Dutch parsley for the roots. The last week take advantage of the time, or the dry days, to make beds for asparagus. Clear up the artichoke roots, slip off the weakest, and plant them out for a new crop, leaving four on each good root to bear, and on such as are weaker two. Dig up a warm border, and sow some French beans; let them have a dry soil, and give them no water till they appear above ground.--APRIL. On a dry warm border, plant a large crop of French beans. Plant cuttings of sage, and other aromatics. Sow marrowfat peas, and plant some beans for a late crop. Sow thyme, sweet marjoram, and savoury. Sow young sallads once in ten days, and some Cos and Silesia lettuces. The seeds of all kinds being now in the ground, look to the growing crops, clear away the weeds every where among them, dig up the earth between the rows of beans, peas, and all other kinds that are distantly planted. This gives them a strong growth, and brings them much sooner to perfection than can be done in any other way. Draw up the mould to the stalks of the cabbage and cauliflower plants, and in cold nights cover the glasses over the early cucumbers and melons.--MAY. Once in two days water the peas, beans, and other large growing plants. Destroy the weeds in all parts of the ground, dig up the earth between the rows, and about the stems of all large kinds. Sow small sallads once in two days, as in the former month: at the same time choose a warm border, and sow some purslain. Sow also some endive, plant peas and beans for a large crop, and French beans to succeed the others. The principal object with these kinds of vegetables, is to have them fresh and young throughout the season. Choose a moist day, and an hour before sunset plant out some savoys, cabbages, and red cabbages. Draw the earth carefully up to their stems, and give them a few gentle waterings.--JUNE. Transplant the cauliflowers sown in May, give them a rich bed, and frequent waterings. Plant out thyme, and other savoury herbs sown before, and in the same manner shade and water them. Take advantage of cloudy weather to sow turnips; and if there be no showers, water the ground once in two days. Sow brocoli upon a rich warm border, and plant out celery, for blanching. This must be planted in trenches a foot and a half deep, and the plants must be set half a foot asunder in the rows. Endive should also be planted out for blanching, but the plants should be set fifteen inches asunder, and at the same time some endive seed should be sown for a second crop. Pick up snails, and in the damp evenings kill the naked slugs.--JULY. Sow a crop of French beans to come in late, when they will be very acceptable. Clear all the ground from weeds, dig between the rows of beans and peas, hoe the ground about the artichokes, and every thing of the cabbage kind. Water the crops in dry weather, and the cucumbers more freely. Watch the melons as they ripen, but give them very little water. Clear away the stalks of beans and peas that have done bearing. Spinach seed will now be ready for gathering, as also that of the Welch onion, and some others: take them carefully off, and dry them in the shade. Take up large onions, and spread them upon mats to dry for the winter.--AUGUST. Spinach and onions should be sowed on rich borders, prepared for that purpose. These two crops will live through the winter, unless very severe, and be valuable in the spring. The second week in this month sow cabbage seed of the early kind, and in the third week sow cauliflower seed. This will provide plants to be nursed up under bell glasses in the winter. Some of these may also be planted in the open ground in a well defended situation. The last week of this month sow another crop, to supply the place of these in case of accidents; for if the season be very severe, they may be lost; and if very mild, they will run to seed in the spring. These last crops must be defended by a hotbed frame, and they will stand out and supply deficiencies. Sow cabbage lettuces, and the brown Dutch kinds, in a warm and well sheltered border. Take up garlic, and spread it on a mat to harden. In the same manner take up onions and rocambole, and shalots at the latter end of the month.--SEPTEMBER. Sow various kinds of lettuces, Silesia, Cos, and Dutch, and when they come up, shelter them carefully. The common practice is to keep them under hand-glasses, but they will thrive better under a reed fence, placed sloping over them. Make up fresh warm beds with the dung that has lain a month in the heap. Plant the spawn in these beds, upon pasture mould, and raise the top of the bed to a ridge, to throw off the wet. Look to the turnip beds and thin them, leaving the plants six inches apart from each other. Weed the spinach, onions, and other new-sown plants. Earth up the celery, and sow young sallads upon warm and well-sheltered borders. Clean asparagus beds, cut down the stalks, pare off the earth from the surface of the alleys, throw it upon the beds half an inch thick, and sprinkle over it a little dung from an old melon bed. Dig up the ground where summer crops have ripened, and lay it in ridges for the winter. The ridges should be disposed east and west, and turned once in two months, to give them the advantage of a fallow. Sow some beans and peas on warm and well-sheltered borders, to stand out the winter.--OCTOBER. Set out cauliflower plants, where they can be sheltered; and if glasses are used, put two under each, for fear of one failing. Sow another crop of peas, and plant more beans; choose a dry spot for them, where they can be sheltered from the winter's cold. Transplant the lettuces sown last month, where they can be defended by a reed fence, or under a wall. Transplant cabbage plants and coleworts, where they are to remain. Take great care of the cauliflower plants sown early in summer; and as they now begin to show their heads, break in the leaves upon them to keep off the sun and rain; it will both harden and whiten them.--NOVEMBER. Weed the crops of spinach, and others that were sown late, or the wild growth will smother and starve the crop. Dig up a border under a warm wall, and sow some carrots for spring; sow radishes in a similar situation, and let the ground be dug deep for both. Turn the mould that was trenched and laid up for fallowing; this will destroy the weeds, and enrich the soil by exposing it to the air. Prepare some hotbeds for salading, cover them five inches with mould, and sow them with lettuces, mustard, rape, cresses, and radish. Plant another crop of beans, and sow more peas for a succession. Trench the ground between the artichokes, and throw a thick ridge of earth over the roots: this will preserve them from the frost, and prevent their shooting at an improper time. Make a hotbed for asparagus. Take up carrots and parsnips, and put them in sand to be ready for use. Give air occasionally to the plants under hand-glasses and on hotbeds, or they will suffer as much for want of it, as they would have done by an exposure to the cold.--DECEMBER. Plant cabbages and savoys for seed: this requires to be done carefully. Dig up a dry border, and break the mould well; then take up some of the stoutest cabbage and savoy plants, hang them up by the stalks four or five days, and afterwards plant them half way up the stalks into the ground. Draw up a good quantity of mould about the stalk that is above ground, make it into a kind of hill round each, and leave them to nature. Sow another crop of peas, and plant some more beans, to take their chance for succeeding the other. Make another hotbed for asparagus, to yield a supply when the former is exhausted. Continue to earth up celery, and cover some endive with a good quantity of peas straw, as it is growing, that it may be taken up when wanted, and be preserved from the winter's frost. KITCHEN PEPPER. Mix in the finest powder, one ounce of ginger, half an ounce each of cinnamon, black pepper, nutmeg, and Jamaica pepper; ten cloves, and six ounces of salt. Keep it in a bottle, and it will be found an agreeable addition to any brown sauces or soups. Spice in powder, kept in small bottles close stopped, goes much farther than when used whole. It must be dried before it is pounded, and should be done in quantities that may be used in three or four months. Nutmeg need not be done, but the others should be kept in separate bottles, with a label on each. KITCHEN UTENSILS. Continual attention must be paid to the condition of the boilers, saucepans, stewpans, and other kitchen requisites, which ought to be examined every time they are used. Their covers also must be kept perfectly clean, and well tinned. Stewpans in particular should be cleaned, not only on the inside, but about a couple of inches on the outside, or the broths and soups will look green and dirty, and taste bitter and poisonous. Not only health but even life depends on the perfectly clean and wholesome state of culinary utensils. If the tinning of a pan happens to be scorched or blistered, it is best to send it directly to be repaired, to prevent any possible danger arising from the solution of the metal. Stewpans and soup pots should be made with thick round bottoms, similar to those of copper saucepans; they will then wear twice as long, and may be cleaned with half the trouble. The covers should be made to fit as close as possible, that the broth or soup may not waste by evaporation. They are good for nothing, unless they fit tight enough to keep the steam in, and the smoke out. Stewpans and saucepans should always be bright on the upper rim, where the fire does not burn them; but it is not necessary to scour them all over, which would wear out the vessels. Soup pots and kettles should be washed immediately after being used, and carefully dried by the fire, before they are put by. They must also be kept in a dry place, or damp and rust will soon destroy them. Copper utensils should never be used in the kitchen; or if they be, the utmost care should be taken not to let the tin be rubbed off, and to have them fresh done when the least defect appears. Neither soup nor gravy should at any time be suffered to remain in them longer than is absolutely necessary for the purposes of cookery, as the fat and acid employed in the operation, are capable of dissolving the metal, and so of poisoning what is intended to be eaten. Stone and earthen vessels should be provided for soups and gravies intended to be set by, as likewise plenty of common dishes, that the table-set may not be used for such purposes. Vegetables soon turn sour, and corrode metals and glazed red ware, by which a strong poison is produced. Vinegar, by its acidity, does the same, the glazing being of lead or arsenic. Care should be taken of sieves, jelly bags, and tapes for collared articles, to have them well scalded and kept dry, or they will impart an unpleasant flavour when next used. Stewpans especially, should never be used without first washing them out with boiling water, and rubbing them well with a dry cloth and a little bran, to clean them from grease and sand, or any bad smell they may have contracted since they were last used. In short, cleanliness is the cardinal virtue of the kitchen; and next to this, economy. KNIFE BOARD. Common knife boards with brick dust, soon wear out the knives that are sharpened upon them. To avoid this, cover the board with thick buff leather, and spread over it a thin paste of crocus martis, with a little emery finely powdered, and mixed up with lard or sweet oil. This will give a superior edge and polish to the knives, and make them wear much longer than in the usual way of cleaning them. KNUCKLE OF VEAL. As few persons are fond of boiled veal, it may be well to cut the knuckle small, and take off some cutlets or collops before it is dressed; but as the knuckle will keep longer than the fillet, it is best not to cut off the slices till wanted. Break the bones to make it take less room, wash the joint well, and put it into a saucepan with three onions, a blade or two of mace, and a few peppercorns. Cover it with water, and simmer it till quite done. In the mean time some macaroni should be boiled with it if approved, or rice, or a little rice flour, to give it a small degree of thickness; but avoid putting in too much. Before it is served, add half a pint of milk and cream, and let it go to table either with or without the meat.--A knuckle of veal may also be fried with sliced onion and butter, to a good brown. Prepare some peas, lettuce, onion, and a cucumber or two, stewed in a small quantity of water for an hour. Add these to the veal, and stew it till the meat is tender enough to eat, but not overdone. Put in pepper, salt, and a little shred mint, and serve all together. L. LAMB. In purchasing this meat, observe particularly the neck of a fore-quarter. If the vein is bluish, it is fresh: if it has a green or yellow cast, it is stale. In the hind-quarter, if there is a faint smell under the kidney, and the knuckle is limp, the meat is stale. If the eyes are sunk, the head is not fresh. Grass lamb comes into season in April or May, and continues till August. House lamb may be had in large towns almost all the year, but it is in highest perfection in December and January. LAMB CHOPS. Cut up a neck or loin, rub the chops with egg, and sprinkle them over with grated bread, mixed with a little parsley, thyme, marjoram, and lemon peel, chopped fine. Fry them in butter till they are of a light brown, put them in a warm dish, garnished with crisped parsley. Or make a gravy in the pan with a little water, and butter rolled in flour, and pour it over them. LAMB CUTLETS. Cut some steaks from the loin, and fry them. Stew some spinach, put it into a dish, and lay the cutlets round it. LAMB'S FRY. Serve it fried of a beautiful colour, and with a good deal of dried or fried parsley over it. LAMB'S HEAD. A house-lamb's head is the best; but any other may be made white by soaking it in cold water. Boil the head separately till it is very tender. Have ready the liver and lights three parts boiled and cut small: stew them in a little of the water in which they were boiled, season and thicken with flour and butter, and serve the mince round the head. LAMB PIE. Make it of the loin, neck, or breast; the breast of house-lamb especially, is very delicate and fine. It should be lightly seasoned with pepper and salt, the bone taken out, but not the gristle. A small quantity of jelly gravy is to be put in hot, but the pie should not be cut till cold. Put in two spoonfuls of water before baking. Grass lamb makes an excellent pie, and should only be seasoned with pepper and salt. Put in two spoonfuls of water before baking, and as much gravy when it comes from the oven. It may generally be remarked, that meat pies being fat, it is best to let out the gravy on one side, and put it in again by a funnel, at the centre, when a little may be added. LAMB STEAKS. Quarter some cucumbers, and lay them into a deep dish; sprinkle them with salt, and pour vinegar over them. Fry the steaks of a fine brown, and put them into a stewpan; drain the cucumbers, and put them over the steaks. Add some sliced onions, pepper and salt; pour hot water or weak broth on them, and stew and skim them well. LAMB STEAKS BROWN. Season some house-lamb steaks with pepper, salt, nutmeg, grated lemon peel, and chopped parsley: but dip them first into egg, and fry them quick. Thicken some good gravy with a little flour and butter, and add to it a spoonful of port wine, and some oysters. Boil up the liquor, put in the steaks warm, and serve them up hot. Palates, balls, or eggs, may be added, if approved. LAMB STEAKS WHITE. Steaks of house-lamb should be stewed in milk and water till very tender, with a bit of lemon peel, a little salt, mace, and pepper. Have ready some veal gravy, and put the steaks into it; mix some mushroom powder, a cup of cream, and a dust of flour; shake the steaks in this liquor, stir it, and make it quite hot. Just before taking up the steaks, put in a few white mushrooms. When poultry is very dear, this dish will be found a good substitute. LAMB'S SWEETBREADS. Blanch them, and put them a little while into cold water. Stew them with a ladleful of broth, some pepper and salt, a few small onions, and a blade of mace. Stir in a bit of butter and flour, and stew them half an hour. Prepare two or three eggs well beaten in cream, with a little minced parsley, and a dust of grated nutmeg. Add a few tops of boiled asparagus, stir it well over the fire, but let it not boil after the cream is in, and take great care that it does not curdle. Young French beans or peas may be added, but should first be boiled of a beautiful colour. LAMBSTONES FRICASSEED. Skin and wash, dry and flour them; then fry them of a beautiful brown in hog's lard. Lay them on a sieve before the fire, till the following sauce is prepared. Thicken nearly half a pint of veal gravy with flour and butter, and then add to it a slice of lemon, a large spoonful of mushroom ketchup, a tea-spoonful of lemon pickle, a taste of nutmeg, and the yolk of an egg well beaten in two large spoonfuls of thick cream. Put this over the fire, stir it well till it is hot, and looks white; but do not let it boil, or it will curdle. Then put in the fry, shake it about near the fire for a minute or two, and serve it in a very hot dish and cover.--A fricassee of lambstones and sweetbreads may be prepared another way. Have ready some lambstones blanched, parboiled, and sliced. Flour two or three sweetbreads: if very thick, cut them in two. Fry all together, with a few large oysters, of a fine yellow brown. Pour off the butter, add a pint of good gravy, some asparagus tops about an inch long, a little nutmeg, pepper, and salt, two shalots shred fine, and a glass of white wine. Simmer them ten minutes, put a little of the gravy to the yolks of three eggs well beaten, and mix the whole together by degrees. Turn the gravy back into the pan, stir it till of a fine thickness without boiling, and garnish with lemon. LAMENESS. Much lameness, as well as deformity, might certainly be prevented, if stricter attention were paid to the early treatment of children. Weakness of the hips, accompanied with a lameness of both sides of the body, is frequently occasioned by inducing them to walk without any assistance, before they have strength sufficient to support themselves. Such debility may in some measure be counteracted, by tying a girdle round the waist, and bracing up the hips; but it requires to be attended to at an early period, or the infirmity will continue for life. It will also be advisable to bathe such weak limbs in cold water, or astringent decoctions, for several months. If the lameness arise from contraction, rather than from weakness, the best means will be frequent rubbing of the part affected. If this be not sufficient, beat up the yolk of a new laid egg, mix it well with three ounces of water, and rub it gently on the part. Perseverance in the use of this simple remedy, has been successful in a great number of instances. LAMPREY. To stew lamprey as at Worcester, clean the fish carefully, and remove the cartilage which runs down the back. Season with a small quantity of cloves, mace, nutmeg, pepper, and allspice. Put it into a small stewpot, with beef gravy, port, and sherry. Cover it close, stew it till tender, take out the lamprey, and keep it hot. Boil up the liquor with two or three anchovies chopped, and some butter rolled in flour. Strain the gravy through a sieve, add some lemon juice, and ready-made mustard. Serve with sippets of bread and horseradish. When there is spawn, it must be fried and laid round. Eels done the same way, are a good deal like the lamprey. LARKS. To dress larks and other small birds, draw and spit them on a bird spit. Tie this on another spit, and roast them. Baste gently with butter, and strew bread crumbs upon them till half done. Brown them in dressing, and serve with bread crumbs round. LAVENDER WATER. To a pint of highly rectified spirits of wine, add an ounce of the essential oil of lavender, and two drams of the essence of ambergris. Put the whole into a quart bottle, shake it frequently, and decant it into small bottles for use. LAVER. This is a plant that grows on the rocks near the sea in the west of England, and is sent in pots prepared for eating. Place some of it on a dish over the lamp, with a bit of butter, and the squeeze of a Seville orange. Stir it till it is hot. It is eaten with roast meat, and tends to sweeten the blood. It is seldom liked at first, but habit renders it highly agreeable. LEAF IMPRESSIONS. To take impressions of leaves and plants, oil a sheet of fine paper, dry it in the sun, and rub off the superfluous moisture with another piece of paper. After the oil is pretty well dried in, black the sheet by passing it over a lighted lamp or candle. Lay the leaf or plant on the black surface, with a small piece of paper over it, and rub it carefully till the leaf is thoroughly coloured. Then take it up undisturbed, lay it on the book or paper which is to receive the impression, cover it with a piece of blotting paper, and rub it on the back a short time with the finger as before. Impressions of the minutest veins and fibres of a plant may be taken in this way, superior to any engraving, and which may afterwards be coloured according to nature. A printer's ball laid upon a leaf, which is afterwards pressed on wet paper, will also produce a fine impression; or if the leaf be touched with printing ink, and pressed with a rolling pin, nearly the same effect will be produced. LEATHER. To discharge grease from articles made of leather, apply the white of an egg; let it dry in the sun, and then rub it off. A paste made of dry mustard, potatoe meal, and two spoonfuls of the spirits of turpentine, applied to the spot and rubbed off dry, will also be found to answer the purpose. If not, cleanse it with a little vinegar. Tanned leather is best cleaned with nitrous acid and salts of lemon diluted with water, and afterwards mixed with skimmed milk. The surface of the leather should first be cleaned with a brush and soft water, adding a little free sand, and then repeatedly scoured with a brush dipped in the nitrous mixture. It is afterwards to be cleaned with a sponge and water, and left to dry. LEAVENED BREAD. Take two pounds of dough from the last baking, and keep it in flour. Put the dough or leaven into a peck of flour the night before it is baked, and work them well together in warm water. Cover it up warm in a wooden vessel, and the next morning it will be sufficiently fermented to mix with two or three bushels of flour: then work it up with warm water, and a pound of salt to each bushel. Cover it with flannel till it rises, knead it well, work it into broad flat loaves or bricks, and bake them as other bread. LEEK MILK. Wash a large handful of leeks, cut them small, and boil them in a gallon of milk till it become as thick as cream. Then strain it, and drink a small bason full twice a day. This is good for the jaundice. LEEK SOUP. Chop a quantity of leeks into some mutton broth or liquor, with a seasoning of salt and pepper. Simmer them an hour in a saucepan; mix some oatmeal with a little cold water quite smooth, and pour it into the soup. Simmer it gently over a slow fire, and take care that it does not burn to the bottom. This is a Scotch dish. LEG OF LAMB. To make it look as white as possible, it should be boiled in a cloth. At the same time the loin should be fried in steaks, and served with it, garnished with dried or fried parsley. Spinach to eat with it. The leg may be roasted, or dressed separately. LEG OF MUTTON. If roasted, serve it up with onion or currant-jelly sauce. If boiled, with caper sauce and vegetables. LEG OF PORK. Salt it, and let it lie six or seven days in the pickle, turn and rub it with the brine every day. Put it into boiling water, if not too salt; use a good quantity of water, and let it boil all the time it is on the fire. Send it to table with peas pudding, melted butter, turnips, carrots, or greens. If it is wanted to be dressed sooner, it may be hastened by putting a little fresh salt on it every day. It will then be ready in half the time, but it will not be quite so tender.--To dress a leg of pork like goose, first parboil it, then take off the skin, and roast it. Baste it with butter, and make a savoury powder of finely minced or dried and powdered sage, ground black pepper, and bread crumbs rubbed together through a cullender; to which may be added an onion, very finely minced. Sprinkle the joint with this mixture when it is almost roasted, put half a pint of made gravy into the dish, and goose stuffing under the knuckle skin, or garnish with balls of it, either fried or boiled. LEG OF VEAL. Let the fillet be cut large or small, as best suits the size of the company. Take out the bone, fill the space with a fine stuffing, skewer it quite round, and send it to table with the large side uppermost. When half roasted, or before, put a paper over the fat, and take care to allow sufficient time: as the meat is very solid, place it at a good distance from the fire, that it may be gradually heated through. Serve it up with melted butter poured over it. Some of it would be good for potting. LEMON BRANDY. Pare two dozen of lemons, and steep the peels in a gallon of brandy. Squeeze the lemons on two pounds of fine sugar, and add six quarts of water. The next day put the ingredients together, pour on three pints of boiling milk, let it stand two days, and strain it off. LEMON CAKE. Beat up the whites of ten eggs, with three spoonfuls of orange flower water; put in a pound of sifted sugar, and the rind of a lemon grated. When it is well mixed, add the juice of half a lemon, and the yolks of ten eggs beaten smooth. Stir in three quarters of a pound of flour, put the cake into a buttered pan, and bake it an hour carefully. LEMON CHEESECAKES. Mix four ounces of fine sifted sugar and four ounces of butter, and melt it gently. Then add the yolks of two and the white of one egg, the rind of three lemons shred fine, and the juice of one and a half; also one savoy biscuit, some blanched almonds pounded, and three spoonfuls of brandy. Mix them well together, and put in the following paste. Eight ounces of flour, six ounces of butter, two thirds of which must first be mixed with the flour; then wet it with six spoonfuls of water, and roll in the remainder.--Another way. Boil two large lemons, or three small ones, and after squeezing, pound them well together in a mortar, with four ounces of loaf sugar, the yolks of six eggs, and eight ounces of fresh butter. Fill the pattipans half full. Orange cheesecakes are done in the same way, only the peel must be boiled in two or three waters to take out the bitterness: or make them of orange marmalade well beaten in a mortar. LEMON CREAM. Put to a pint of thick cream, the yolks of two eggs well beaten, four ounces of fine sugar, and the thin rind of a lemon. Boil it up, and stir it till nearly cold. Put the juice of a lemon into a bowl, and pour the cream upon it, stirring it till quite cold. White lemon cream is made in the same way, only put the whites of the eggs instead of the yolks, whisking it extremely well to a froth. LEMON CUSTARDS. Beat the yolks of eight eggs till they are as white as milk; then put to them a pint of boiling water, the rinds of two lemons grated, and the juice sweetened to taste. Stir it on the fire till it thickens; then add a large glass of rich wine, and half a glass of brandy. Give the whole one scald, and put it in cups to be eaten cold. LEMON DROPS. Grate three large lemons, with a large piece of double-refined sugar. Then scrape the sugar into a plate, add half a tea-spoonful of flour, mix well, and beat it into a light paste with the white of an egg. Drop it upon white paper, and put the drops into a moderate oven on a tin plate. LEMON HONEYCOMB. Sweeten the juice of a lemon to your taste, and put it in the dish that you intend to serve it in. Mix the white of an egg well beaten, with a pint of rich cream, and a little sugar. Whisk it; and as the froth rises, put it on the lemon juice. Prepare it the day before it is to be used. LEMON JUICE. In order to keep this article ready for use, the best way is to buy the fruit when it is cheap, and lay it two or three days in a cool place. If too unripe to squeeze immediately, cut the peel off some of them, and roll them under the hand, to make them part with the juice more freely. Others may be left unpared for grating, when the pulp is taken out, and they are dried. Squeeze the juice into a china bason, and strain it through some muslin which will not permit any of the pulp to pass. Having prepared some small phials, perfectly dry, fill them with the juice so near the top as only to admit half a tea-spoonful of sweet oil into each. Cork the bottles tight, and set them upright in a cool place. When the lemon juice is wanted, open only such a sized bottle as will be used in two or three days. Wind some clean cotton round a skewer, and dipping it in, the oil will be attracted; and when all of it is removed, the juice will be as fine as when first bottled. Hang the peels up to dry, and keep them from the dust. LEMON MINCE PIES. Squeeze a large lemon, boil the outside till tender enough to beat to a mash. Add to it three large apples chopped, four ounces of suet, half a pound of washed currants, and four ounces of sugar. Put in the juice of a lemon, and candied fruit, as for other pies. Make a short crust, and fill the pattipans as usual. LEMON PICKLE. Wipe six lemons, and cut each into eight pieces. Put on them a pound of salt, six large cloves of garlic, two ounces of horseradish sliced thin; likewise of cloves, mace, nutmeg, and cayenne, a quarter of an ounce of each, and two ounces of flour of mustard. To these add two quarts of vinegar, and boil it a quarter of an hour in a well-tinned saucepan; or, which is better, do it in a jar, placed in a kettle of boiling water, or set the jar on a hot hearth till done. Then set the jar by closely covered, stirring it daily for six weeks, and afterwards put the pickle into small bottles. LEMON PUDDING. Beat the yolks of four eggs; add four ounces of white sugar, the rind of a lemon being rubbed with some lumps of it to take the essence. Then peel and beat it into a paste, with the juice of a large lemon, and mix all together with four or five ounces of warmed butter. Put a crust into a shallow dish, nick the edges, and put the above into it. When sent to table, turn the pudding out of the dish. LEMON PUFFS. Beat and sift a pound and a quarter of double-refined sugar; grate the rind of two large lemons, and mix it well with the sugar. Then beat the whites of three new-laid eggs a great while; add them to the sugar and peel, and beat it together for an hour. Make it up into any shape, put it on paper laid on tin plates, and bake in a moderate oven. Oiling the paper will make it come off with ease, but it should not be removed till quite cold. LEMON SAUCE. Cut thin slices of lemon into very small dice, and put them into melted butter. Give it one boil, and pour it over boiled fowls. LEMON AND LIVER SAUCE. Pare off as thin as possible the rind of a lemon, or of a Seville orange, so as not to cut off any of the white with it. Then peel off all the white, and cut the lemon into slices, about as thick as two half crowns. Pick out the peps, and divide the slices into small squares. Prepare the liver as for Liver and Parsley Sauce, and add to it the slices of lemon, and a little of the peel finely minced. Warm up the sauce in melted butter, but do not let it boil. LEMON SYRUP. Put a pint of fresh lemon juice to a pound and three quarters of lump sugar. Dissolve it by a gentle heat, skim it till the surface is quite clear, and add an ounce of lemon peel cut very thin. Let them simmer very gently for a few minutes, and run the syrup through a flannel. When cold, bottle and cork it closely, and keep it in a cool place. LEMON WATER. A delightful drink may be made of two slices of lemon, thinly pared into a teapot, with a little sugar, or a large spoonful of capillaire. Pour in a pint of boiling water, and stop it close two hours. LEMON WHEY. Pour into boiling milk as much lemon juice as will make a small quantity quite clear; dilute it with hot water to an agreeable smart acid, and add a bit or two of sugar. This is less heating than if made of wine; and if intended only to excite perspiration, will answer the purpose as well. Vinegar whey is made in the same manner, by using vinegar only, instead of lemon juice. LEMON WHITE SAUCE. Cut the peel of a small lemon very thin, and put it into a pint of sweet rich cream, with a sprig of lemon thyme, and ten white peppercorns. Simmer gently till it tastes well of the lemon, then strain and thicken it with a quarter of a pound of butter, and a dessert-spoonful of flour rubbed in it. Boil it up, stir it well, and pour the juice of the lemon strained into it. Dish up the chickens, and mix with the cream a little white gravy quite hot, but do not boil them together: add a little salt to flavour. LEMONS FOR PUDDINGS. To keep oranges or lemons for puddings, squeeze out the pulp, and put the outsides into water for a fortnight. Then boil them in the same water till they are quite tender, strain the liquor from them, and when they are tolerably dry, put them into any jar of candy that happens to be left from old sweetmeats. Or boil a small quantity of syrup of lump sugar and water, and put over them. In a week or ten days boil them gently in it till they look clear, and cover them with it in the jar. If the fruit be cut in halves, they will occupy less space. LEMONADE. To prepare lemonade a day before it is wanted for use, pare two dozen lemons as thin as possible. Put eight of the rinds into three quarts of hot water, not boiling, and cover it over for three or four hours. Rub some fine loaf sugar on the lemons to attract the essence, and put it into a china bowl, into which the juice of the lemons is to be squeezed. Add a pound and a half of fine sugar, then put the water to the above, and three quarts of boiling milk. Pour the mixture through a jelly bag, till it is perfectly clear.--Another way. Pare a quantity of lemons, and pour some hot water on the peels. While infusing, boil some sugar and water to a good syrup, with the white of an egg whipt up. When it boils, pour a little cold water into it. Set it on again, and when it boils take off the pan, and let it stand by to settle. If there be any scum, take it off, and pour it clear from the sediment, to the water in which the peels were infused, and the lemon juice. Stir and taste it, and add as much more water as shall be necessary to make a very rich lemonade. Wet a jelly bag, and squeeze it dry; then strain the liquor, and it will be very fine.--To make a lemonade which has the appearance of jelly, pare two Seville oranges and six lemons very thin, and steep them four hours in a quart of hot water. Boil a pound and a quarter of loaf sugar in three pints of water, and skim it clean. Add the two liquors to the juice of six China oranges, and twelve lemons; stir the whole well, and run it through a jelly bag till it is quite clear. Then add a little orange water, if approved, and more sugar if necessary. Let it be well corked, and it will keep.--Lemonade may be prepared in a minute, by pounding a quarter of an ounce of citric or crystalised lemon acid, with a few drops of quintessence of lemon peel, and mixing it by degrees with a pint of clarified syrup or capillaire. LENT POTATOES. Beat three or four ounces of almonds, and three or four bitter ones when blanched, putting a little orange flower water to prevent oiling. Add eight ounces of butter, four eggs well beaten and strained, half a glass of raisin wine, and sugar to taste. Beat all together till quite smooth, and grate in three Savoy biscuits. Make balls of the above with a little flour, the size of a chesnut; throw them into a stewpan of boiling lard, and boil them of a beautiful yellow brown. Drain them on a sieve, and serve with sweet sauce in a boat. LETHARGY. This species of apoplexy discovers itself by an invincible drowsiness, or inclination to sleep; and is frequently attended with a degree of fever, and coldness of the extremities. Blisters and emetics have often procured relief. The affusion of cold water upon the head, and the burning of feathers or other fetid substances, held near the nostrils, are also attended with advantage. LICE. Want of cleanliness, immoderate warmth, violent perspiration, and a corrupted state of the fluids, tend to promote the generation of this kind of vermin. The most simple remedy is the seed of parsley, reduced to a fine powder and rubbed to the roots of the hair, or to rub the parts affected with garlic and mustard. To clean the heads of children, take half an ounce of honey, half an ounce of sulphur, an ounce of vinegar, and two ounces of sweet oil. Mix the whole into a liniment, and rub a little of it on the head repeatedly. Lice which infest clothes, may be destroyed by fumigating the articles of dress with the vapour of sulphur. Garden lice may be treated in the same way as for destroying insects. LIGHT CAKE. Mix a pound of flour, half a pound of currants, and a little nutmeg, sugar, and salt. Melt a quarter of a pound of butter in a quarter of a pint of milk, and strain into it two spoonfuls of yeast and two eggs. Stir it well together, set it before the fire to rise, and bake it in a quick oven. LIGHT PASTE. For tarts and cheesecakes, beat up the white of an egg to a strong froth, and mix it with as much water as will make three quarters of a pound of fine flour into a very stiff paste. Roll it out thin, lay two or three ounces of butter upon it in little bits, dredge it with a little flour, and roll it up tight. Roll it out again, and add the same proportion of butter, and so proceed till the whole is worked up. LIGHT PUFFS. Mix two spoonfuls of flour, a little grated lemon peel, some nutmeg, half a spoonful of brandy, a little loaf-sugar, and one egg. Fry it enough, but not brown; beat it in a mortar with five eggs, whites and yolks. Put a quantity of lard in a fryingpan; and when quite hot, drop a dessert-spoonful of batter at a time, and turn them as they brown. Send the puffs to table quickly, with sweet sauce. LIME WATER. Pour two gallons of water upon a pound of fresh-burnt lime; and when the ebullition ceases, stir it up well, and let it stand till the lime is settled. Filter the liquor through paper, and keep it for use closely stopped. It is chiefly used for the gravel, in which case a pint or more may be drunk daily. For the itch, or other diseases of the skin, it is to be applied externally. LINEN. Linen in every form is liable to all the accidents of mildew, iron moulds, ink spots, and various other stains, which prove highly injurious, if not speedily removed. In case of mildew, rub the part well with soap, then scrape and rub on some fine chalk, and lay the linen out to bleach. Wet it a little now and then, and repeat the operation if necessary. Ink spots and iron moulds may be removed, by rubbing them with the salt of sorrel, or weak muriatic acid, and laying the part over a teapot or kettle of boiling water, so that it may be affected by the steam. Or some crystals of tartar powdered, and half the quantity of alum, applied in the same manner, will be found to extract the spots. The spirits of salts diluted with water, will remove iron moulds from linen; and sal ammoniac with lime, will take out the stains of wine. Fruit stains may generally be removed by wetting the part with water, and exposing it to the fumes of brimstone. When ink has been suddenly spilled on linen, wet the place immediately with the juice of sorrel or lemon, or with vinegar, and rub it with hard white soap. Or add to the juice a little salts, steam the linen over boiling water, and wash it afterwards in ley. If ink be spilled on a green tablecloth or carpet, the readiest way is to take it up immediately with a spoon, and by pouring on fresh water, while the spoon is constantly applied, the stains will soon be removed. Scorched linen may be restored by means of the following application. Boil two ounces of fuller's earth, an ounce of hen's dung, half an ounce of soap, and the juice of two onions, in half a pint of vinegar, till reduced to a good consistency. Spread the composition over the damaged part, let it dry on, and then wash it well once or twice. If the threads be not actually consumed by the scorch, the linen will soon be restored to its former whiteness. LIP SALVE. Put into a small jar two ounces of white wax, half an ounce of spermaceti, and a quarter of a pint of oil of sweet almonds. Tie it down close, and put the jar into a small saucepan, with as much water as will nearly reach the top of the jar, but not so as to boil over it, and let it simmer till the wax is melted. Then put in a pennyworth of alkanet root tied up in a rag, with the jar closed, and boil it till it becomes red. Take out the alkanet root, and put in two pennyworth of essence of lemon, and a few drops of bergamot. Pour some into small boxes for present use, and the remainder into a gallipot tied down with a bladder.--Another. An ounce of white wax and ox marrow, with three ounces of white pomatum, melted together over a slow fire, will make an agreeable lip salve, which may be coloured with a dram of alkanet, and stirred till it becomes a fine red. LITTLE BREAD PUDDINGS. Steep the crumb of a penny loaf grated, in about a pint of warm milk. When sufficiently soaked, beat up six eggs, whites and yolks, and mix with the bread. Add two ounces of warmed butter, some sugar, orange flower water, a spoonful of brandy, a little nutmeg, and a tea-cupful of cream. Beat all well together, bake in buttered teacups, and serve with pudding sauce. A quarter of a pound of currants may be added, but the puddings are good without. Orange or lemon will be an agreeable addition. LIVER AND HERBS. Clean and drain a good quantity of spinach, two large handfuls of parsley, and a handful of green onions. Chop the parsley and onions, and sprinkle them among the spinach. Stew them together with a little salt and butter, shake the pan when it begins to grow warm, and cover it close till done enough over a slow fire. Lay on slices of liver, fried of a nice brown and slices of bacon just warmed at the fire. On the outside part of the herbs lay some eggs nicely fried, and trimmed round. Or the eggs may be served on the herbs, and the liver garnished with the bacon separately. LIVER SAUCE. Chop some liver of rabbits or fowls, and do it the same as for lemon sauce, with a very little pepper and salt, and some parsley. LIVER AND PARSLEY SAUCE. Wash the fresh liver of a fowl or rabbit, and boil it five minutes in a quarter of a pint of water. Chop it fine, or pound or bruise it in a little of the liquor it was boiled in, and rub it through a sieve. Wash about one third the bulk of parsley leaves, put them into boiling water, with a tea-spoonful of salt, and let them boil. Then lay the parsley on a hair sieve, mince it very fine, and mix it with the liver. Warm up the sauce in a quarter of a pint of melted butter, but do not let it boil. LOBSTERS. If they have not been long taken, the claws will have a strong motion, when the finger is pressed upon the eyes. The heaviest are the best, and it is preferable to boil them at home. If purchased ready boiled, try whether their tails are stiff, and pull up with a spring; otherwise that part will be flabby. The male lobster is known by the narrow back part of his tail, and the two uppermost fins within it are stiff and hard: those of the hen are soft, and the tail broader. The male, though generally smaller, has the highest flavour, the flesh is firmer, and the colour when boiled is a deeper red. LOBSTER PATTIES. To be made as oyster patties, gently stewed and seasoned, and put into paste baked in pattipans, with the addition of a little cream, and a very small piece of butter. LOBSTER PIE. Boil two or three small lobsters, take out the tails, and cut them in two. Take out the gut, cut each into four pieces, and lay them in a small dish. Put in the meat of the claws, and that picked out of the body; pick off the furry parts of the latter, and take out the lady; beat the spawn in a mortar, and likewise all the shells. Stew them with some water, two or three spoonfuls of vinegar, pepper, salt, and some pounded mace. A large piece of butter rolled in flour must be added, when the goodness of the shells is obtained. Give it a boil or two, and pour it into a dish strained; strew some crumbs, and put a paste over all. Bake it slowly, and only till the paste is done. LOBSTER SALAD. Make a salad, cut some of the red part of the lobster, and add to it. This will form a pleasing contrast to the white and green of the vegetables. Be careful not to put in too much oil, as shell-fish absorbs the sharpness of the vinegar. Serve it up in a dish, not in a bowl. LOBSTER SAUCE. Pound the spawn with two anchovies, pour on two spoonfuls of gravy, and strain all into some melted butter. Then put in the meat of the lobster, give it all one boil, and add the squeeze of a lemon. Or leave out the anchovies and gravy, and do it as above, either with or without salt and ketchup, as may be most approved. Many persons prefer the flavour of the lobster and salt only. LOBSTER SOUP. Take the meat from the claws, bodies, and tails, of six small lobsters. Remove the brown fur, and the bag in the head; beat the fins in a mortar, the chine, and the small claws. Boil it very gently in two quarts of water, with the crumb of a French roll, some white pepper, salt, two anchovies, a large onion, sweet herbs, and a bit of lemon peel, till all the goodness is extracted, and then strain it off. Beat the spawn in a mortar with a bit of butter, a quarter of a nutmeg, and a tea-spoonful of flour, and then mix it with a quart of cream. Cut the tails into pieces, and give them a boil up with the cream and soup. Serve with forcemeat balls made of the remainder of the lobster, mace, pepper, salt, a few crumbs, and an egg or two. Let the balls be made up with a little flour, and heated in the soup. LODGINGS. The tenure on which the generality of houses are held, does not warrant a tenant to let, or a lodger to take apartments by the year. To do this, the tenant ought himself to be the proprietor of the premises, or to hold possession by lease for an unexpired term of several years, which would invest him with the right of a landlord to give or receive half a year's notice, or proceed as in other cases of landlord and tenant. Unfurnished lodgings are generally let by the week, month, or quarter; and if ever they be let by the year, it is a deviation from a general custom, and attended with inconvenience. If a lodger should contend that he agreed for a whole year, he must produce some evidence of the fact; such as a written agreement, or the annual payment of rent; otherwise he must submit to the general usage of being denominated a quarterly lodger. In the case of weekly tenants, the rent must be paid weekly; for if once allowed to go to a quarter, and the landlord accept it as a quarter's rent, he breaks the agreement; the inmate then becomes a quarterly lodger, and must receive a quarter's notice to quit. More care however is still required in letting lodgings that are ready furnished, as the law does not regard them in the same light as other tenements. Such apartments are generally let by the week, on payment of a certain sum, part of which is for the room, and part for the use of the furniture which is attended with some difficulty. Properly considered, the payment is not rent, nor are the same remedies lawful as in unfurnished lodgings. The best way to let furnished lodgings is to have a written agreement, with a catalogue of all the goods, and to let the apartments and the furniture for separate sums: in which case, if the rent be not paid, distress may be made for it, though not for the furniture. Persons renting furnished apartments frequently absent themselves, without apprising the housekeeper, and as often leave the rent in arrear. In such a case, the housekeeper should send for a constable, after the expiration of the first week, and in his presence enter the apartment, take out the lodger's property and secure it, until a request be made for it. If after fourteen days' public notice in the gazette, the lodger do not come and pay the arrears, the housekeeper may sell the property for the sum due. When a housekeeper is troubled with a disagreeable character, the best way to recover possession of the apartment is to deliver a written notice by a person that can be witness, stating that if the lodger did not quit that day week, the landlord would insist on his paying an advance of so much per week; and if he did not quit after such notice, he would make the same advance after every following week. In the city of London, payment may be procured by summoning to the Court of Requests at Guildhall, for any sum not exceeding five pounds. In other parts of the kingdom there are similar Courts of Conscience, where payment may be enforced to the amount of forty shillings. LOIN OF MUTTON. If roasted, it is better to cut it lengthways as a saddle; or if for steaks, pies, or broth. If there be more fat on the loin than is agreeable, take off a part of it before it is dressed; it will make an excellent suet pudding, or crust for a meat pie, if cut very fine. LONDON BREAD. According to the method practised by the London bakers, a sack of flour is sifted into the kneading trough, to make it lie loose. Six pounds of salt, and two pounds of alum, are separately dissolved in hot water; and the whole being cooled to about ninety degrees, is mixed with two quarts of yeast. When this mixture has been well stirred, it is strained through a cloth or sieve, and is then poured into a cavity made in the flour. The whole is now mixed up into a dough, and a small quantity of flour being sprinkled over it, it is covered up with cloths, and the lid of the trough is shut down, the better to retain the heat. The fermentation now goes on, and the mass becomes enlarged in bulk. In the course of two or three hours, another pailful of warm water is well mixed with the sponge, and it is again covered up for about four hours. At the end of this time, it is to be kneaded for more than an hour, with three pailfuls of warm water. It is now returned to the trough in pieces, sprinkled with dry flour, and at the end of four hours more, it is again kneaded for half an hour, and divided into quartern and half-quartern loaves. The weight of a quartern loaf, before baking, should be four pounds fifteen ounces; after baking, four pounds six ounces, avoirdupois. When the dough has received its proper shape for loaves, it is put into the oven, at a heat that will scorch flour without burning, where it is baked two hours and a half, or three hours. LONDON PORTER. A late writer has given considerable information respecting the brewing of porter. His intention being to exhibit the advantages derived from domestic brewing, he has annexed the price of each article of the composition, though it will be seen that the expense on some of the principal articles has been considerably reduced since that estimate was given. £ _s._ _d._ One quarter of malt 2 2 0 8lb. of hops 0 12 0 6lb. of treacle 0 2 0 8lb. of liquorice root bruised 0 8 0 8lb. of essentia bina 0 4 8 8lb. of colouring 0 4 8 Capsicum half an ounce 0 0 2 Spanish liquorice two ounces 0 0 2 India berries one ounce 0 0 2 Salt of tartar two drams 0 0 1 Heading a quarter of an ounce 0 0 1 Ginger three ounces 0 0 3 Lime four ounces 0 0 1 Linseed one ounce 0 0 1 Cinnamon bark two drams 0 0 2 --------- 3 14 7 Coals 0 3 0 --------- Total expense £ 3 17 7 This will produce ninety gallons of good porter, and fifty gallons of table beer; the cost of the porter at the large breweries being £7 10_s._ and that of the beer £1 7_s._ leaves a profit of £5 to the brewer.--The 'essentia bina' is composed of eight pounds of moist sugar, boiled in an iron vessel, for no copper one could withstand the heat sufficiently, till it becomes of a thick syrupy consistence, perfectly black, and extremely bitter. The 'colouring' is composed of eight pounds of moist sugar, boiled till it attains a middle state, between bitter and sweet. It gives that fine mellow colour usually so much admired in good porter. These ingredients are added to the first wort, and boiled with it. The 'heading' is a mixture of half alum, and half copperas, ground to a fine powder. It is so called, from its giving to porter that beautiful head or froth, which constitutes one of the peculiar properties of porter, and which publicans are so anxious to raise to gratify their customers. The linseed, ginger, limewater, cinnamon, and several other small articles, are added or withheld according to the taste or practice of the brewer, which accounts for the different flavours so observable in London porter. Of the articles here enumerated, it is sufficient to observe, that however much they may surprise, however pernicious or disagreeable they may appear, they have always been deemed necessary in the brewing of porter. They must invariably be used by those who wish to continue the taste, the flavour and appearance, to which they have been accustomed.--Omitting however those ingredients which are deemed pernicious, it will be seen by the following estimate how much more advantageous it is to provide even a small quantity of home-brewed porter, where this kind of liquor is preferred. Ingredients necessary for brewing five gallons of porter. _s._ _d._ One peck of malt 2 6 Quarter of a pound of liquorice bruised 0 3 Spanish liquorice 0 6 Essentia 0 2 Colour 0 2 Treacle 0 2 Hops 0 6 Capsicum and ginger 0 1 Coals 0 10 ------- Total expense 4 8 ------- This will produce five gallons of good porter, which if bought of the brewer would cost 8 4 But being brewed at home, for 4 8 ------- Leaves a clear gain of 3 8 This saving is quite enough to pay for time and trouble, besides the advantage of having a wholesome liquor, free from all poisonous ingredients. Porter thus brewed will be fit for use in a week, and may be drunk with pleasure. To do ample justice to the subject however, it may be proper briefly to notice the specific properties of the various ingredients which enter into the composition of London porter. It is evident that some porter is more heady than others, and this arises from the greater or less quantity of stupefying ingredients intermixed with it. Malt itself, to produce intoxication, must be used in such large quantities as would very much diminish the brewer's profit. Of the wholesomeness of malt there can be no doubt; pale malt especially is highly nutritive, containing more balsamic qualities than the brown malt, which being subject to a greater degree of fire in the kiln, is sometimes so crusted and burnt, that the mealy part loses some of its best qualities. Amber malt is that which is dried in a middling degree, between pale and brown, and is now much in use, being the most pleasant, and free from either extreme. Hops are an aromatic grateful bitter, very wholesome, and undoubtedly efficacious in giving both flavour and strength to the beer. Yeast is necessary to give the liquor that portion of elastic air, of which the boiling deprives it. Without fermentation, or working, no worts, however rich, can inebriate. Liquorice root is pleasant, wholesome, and aperient; and opposes the astringent qualities of some of the other ingredients; it ought therefore to be used, as should Spanish liquorice, which possesses the same properties. Capsicum disperses wind, and when properly used, cannot be unwholesome: it leaves a glow of warmth on the stomach, which is perceptible in drinking some beers. Ginger has the same effect as capsicum, and it also cleanses and flavours the beer. But capsicum being cheaper is more used, and by its tasteless though extremely hot quality, cannot be so readily discovered in beer as ginger. Treacle partakes of many of the properties of liquorice; and by promoting the natural secretions, it renders porter and beer in general very wholesome. Treacle also is a cheaper article than sugar, and answers the purpose of colour, where the beer is intended for immediate consumption; but in summer, when a body is required to withstand the temperature of the air, and the draught is not quick, sugar alone can give body to porter. Treacle therefore is a discretionary article. Coriander seed, used principally in ale, is warm and stomachic; but when used in great quantity, it is pernicious. Coculus Indicus, the India berry, is poisonous and stupefying, when taken in any considerable quantity. When ground into fine powder it is undiscoverable in the liquor, and is but too much used to the prejudice of the public health. What is called heading, should be made of the salt of steel; but a mixture of alum and copperas being much cheaper, is more frequently used. Alum is a great drier, and causes that thirst which some beer occasions; so that the more you drink of it, the more you want. Alum likewise gives a taste of age to the beer, and is penetrating to the palate. Copperas is well known to be poisonous, and may be seen in the blackness which some beer discovers. Salt is highly useful in all beers; it gives a pleasing relish, and also fines the liquor.--These remarks are sufficient to show the propriety of manufacturing at home a good wholesome article for family use, instead of resorting to a public house for every pint of beer which nature demands, and which when procured is both expensive and pernicious. And lest any objection should be made, as to the difficulty and inconvenience of brewing, a few additional observations will here be given, in order to facilitate this very important part of domestic economy. Be careful then to procure malt and hops of the very best quality, and let the brewing vessels be closely inspected; the least taint may spoil a whole brewing of beer. The mash tub should be particularly attended to, and a whisp of clean hay or straw is to be spread over the bottom of the vessel in the inside, to prevent the flour of the malt running off with the liquor. The malt being emptied into the mash tub, and the water brought to boil, dash the boiling water in the copper with cold water sufficient to stop the boiling, and leave it just hot enough to scald the finger, always remembering to draw off the second mash somewhat hotter than the first. The water being thus brought to a proper temperature by the addition of cold water, lade it out of the copper over the malt till it becomes thoroughly wet, stirring it well to prevent the malt from clotting. When the water is poured on too hot, it sets the malt, and closes the body of the grain, instead of opening it so as to dissolve in the liquor. Cover up the mash tub close to compress the steam, and prevent the liquid from evaporating. Let the wort stand an hour and a half or two hours after mashing, and then let the liquor run off into a vessel prepared to receive it. If at first it runs thick and discoloured, draw off a pailful or two, and pour it back again into the mash tub till it runs clear. In summer it will be necessary to put a few hops into the vessel which receives the liquor out of the mash tub, to prevent its turning sour, which the heat of the weather will sometimes endanger. Let the second mash run out as before, and let the liquor stand an hour and a half, but never let the malt be dry: keep lading fresh liquor over it till the quantity of wort to be obtained is extracted, always allowing for waste in the boiling. The next consideration is boiling the wort when obtained. The first copperful must be boiled an hour; and whilst boiling, add the ingredients specified above, in the second estimate. The hops are now to be boiled in the wort, but are to be carefully strained from the first wort, in order to be boiled again in the second. Eight pounds is the common proportion to a quarter of malt; but in summer the quantity must be varied from eight to twelve pounds, according to the heat of the atmosphere. After the wort has boiled an hour, lade it out of the copper and cool it. In summer it should be quite cold before it is set to work; in winter it should be kept till a slight degree of warmth is perceptible by the finger. When properly cooled set it to work, by adding yeast in proportion to the quantity. If considerable, and if wanted to work quick, add from one to two gallons. Porter requires to be brought forward quicker than other malt liquor: let it work till it comes to a good deep head, then cleanse it by adding the ginger. The liquor is now fit for tunning: fill the barrels full, and let the yeast work out, adding fresh liquor to fill them up till they have done working. Now bung the barrels, but keep a watchful eye upon them for some time, lest the beer should suddenly ferment again and burst them, which is no uncommon accident where due care is not taken. The heat of summer, or a sudden change of weather, will occasion the same misfortune, if the barrels are not watched, and eased when they require it, by drawing the peg. The only part which remains to complete the brewing, is fining the beer. To understand this, it is necessary to remark, that London porter is composed of three different sorts of malt; pale, brown, and amber. The reason for using these three sorts, is to attain a peculiar flavour and colour. Amber is the most wholesome, and for home brewing it is recommended to use none else. In consequence of the subtleness of the essentia, which keeps continually swimming in the beer, porter requires a considerable body of finings; but should any one choose to brew without the essentia, with amber malt, and with colour only, the porter will soon refine of itself. The finings however are composed of isinglass dissolved in stale beer, till the whole becomes of a thin gluey consistence like size. One pint is the usual proportion to a barrel, but sometimes two, and even three are found necessary. Particular care must be taken that the beer in which the isinglass is dissolved, be perfectly clear, and thoroughly stale.--By attending to these directions, any person may brew as good, if not better porter, than they can be supplied with from the public houses. Many notions have been artfully raised, that porter requires to be brewed in large quantities, and to be long stored, to render it sound and strong; but experience will prove the falsehood of these prejudices, which have their origin with the ignorant, and are cherished by the interested. One brewing under another will afford ample time for porter to refine for use, and every person can best judge of the extent of his own consumption. Porter is not the better for being brewed in large quantities, except that the same trouble which brews a peck, will brew a bushel. This mode of practice will be found simple and easy in its operation, and extremely moderate in point of trouble and expense. LONDON SYLLABUB. Put a pint and a half of port or white wine into a bowl, nutmeg grated, and a good deal of sugar. Then milk into it near two quarts of milk, frothed up. If the wine be rather sharp, it will require more for this quantity of milk. In Devonshire, clouted cream is put on the top, with pounded cinnamon and sugar. LOOKING GLASSES. In order to clean them from the spots of flies and other stains, rub them over with a fine damp cloth. Then polish with a soft woollen cloth, and powder blue. LOVE. As health is materially affected by the passions, it is of some consequence to observe their separate influence, in order to obviate some of their ill effects. Love is unquestionably the most powerful, and is less under the controul of the understanding than any of the rest. It has a kind of omnipotence ascribed to it, which belongs not to any other. 'Love is strong as death; many waters cannot quench it, neither can the floods drown it.' Other passions are necessary for the preservation of the individual, but this is necessary for the continuation of the species: it was proper therefore that it should be deeply rooted in the human breast. There is no trifling with this passion: when love has risen to a certain height, it admits of no other cure but the possession of its object, which in this case ought always if possible to be obtained. The ruinous consequences arising from disappointment, which happen almost every day, are dreadful to relate; and no punishment can be too great for those whose wilful conduct becomes the occasion of such catastrophes. Parents are deeply laden with guilt, who by this means plunge their children into irretrievable ruin; and lovers are deserving of no forgiveness, whose treacherous conduct annihilates the hopes and even the existence of their friends. M. MACARONI. The usual way of preparing macaroni is to boil it in milk, or weak veal broth, flavoured with salt. When tender, put it into a dish without the liquor. Add to it some bits of butter and grated cheese; over the top grate more, and add a little more butter. Set the dish into a Dutch oven a quarter of an hour, but do not let the top become hard.--Another way. Wash it well, and simmer in half milk and half broth, of veal or mutton, till it is tender. To a spoonful of this liquor, put the yolk of an egg beaten in a spoonful of cream; just make it hot to thicken, but not to boil. Spread it on the macaroni, and then grate fine old cheese all over, with bits of butter. Brown the whole with a salamander.--Another. Wash the macaroni, then simmer it in a little broth, with a little salt and pounded mace. When quite tender, take it out of the liquor, lay it in a dish, grate a good deal of cheese over, and cover it with fine grated bread. Warm some butter without oiling, and pour it from a boat through a small earthen cullender all over the crumbs; then put the dish into a Dutch oven to roast the cheese, and brown the bread of a fine colour. The bread should be in separate crumbs, and look light. MACARONI PUDDING. Simmer in a pint of milk, an ounce or two of the pipe sort of macaroni, and a bit of lemon and cinnamon. When quite tender, put it into a dish with milk, two or three eggs, but only one white. Add some sugar, nutmeg, a spoonful of peach water, and the same of raisin wine. Bake with a paste round the edges. A layer of orange marmalade, or raspberry jam, in a macaroni pudding, is a great improvement. In this case omit the almond water, or ratifia, which would otherwise be wanted to give it a flavour. MACARONI SOUP. Boil a pound of the best macaroni in a quart of good stock, till it is quite tender. Then take out half, and put it into another stewpot. Add some more stock to the remainder, and boil it till all the macaroni will pulp through a fine sieve. Then add together the two liquors, a pint or more of boiling cream, the macaroni that was first taken out, and half a pound of grated parmesan cheese. Make it hot, but do not let it boil. Serve it with the crust of a French roll, cut into the size of a shilling. MACAROONS. Blanch four ounces of almonds, and pound them with four spoonfuls of orange water. Whisk the whites of four eggs to a froth, mix it with the almonds, and a pound of sifted sugar, till reduced to a paste. Lay a sheet of wafer paper on a tin, and put on the paste in little cakes, the shape of macaroons. MACKAREL. Their season is generally May, June, and July; but may sometimes be had at an earlier period. When green gooseberries are ready, their appearance may at all times be expected. They are so tender a fish that they carry and keep worse than any other: choose those that are firm and bright, and sweet scented. After gutting and cleaning, boil them gently, and serve with butter and fennel, or gooseberry sauce. To broil them, split and sprinkle with herbs, pepper and salt; or stuff with the same, adding crumbs and chopped fennel. MAGNUM BONUM PLUMS. Though very indifferent when eaten raw, this fruit makes an excellent sweetmeat, or is fine in the form of tarts. Prick them with a needle to prevent bursting, simmer them very gently in a thin syrup, put them in a china bowl, and when cold pour the syrup over. Let them lie three days, then make a syrup of three pounds of sugar to five pounds of fruit, with no more water than hangs to large lumps of the sugar dipped quickly, and instantly brought out. Boil the plums in this fresh syrup, after draining the first from them. Do them very gently till they are clear, and the syrup adheres to them. Put them one by one into small pots, and pour the liquor over. Reserve a little syrup in the pan for those intended to be dried, warm up the fruit in it, drain them out, and put them on plates to dry in a cool oven. These plums are apt to ferment, if not boiled in two syrups; the former will sweeten pies, but will have too much acid to keep. A part may be reserved, with the addition of a little sugar, to do those that are dry, for they will not require to be so sweet as if kept wet, and will eat very nicely if boiled like the rest. One parcel may be done after another, and save much sugar, but care must be taken not to break the fruit. MAHOGANY. To give a fine colour to mahogany, let the furniture be washed perfectly clean with vinegar, having first taken out any ink stains there may be, with spirits of salt, taking the greatest care to touch the stained part very slightly, and then the spirits must be instantly washed off. Use the following liquid. Put into a pint of cold-drawn linseed oil, four pennyworth of alkanet root, and two pennyworth of rose pink. Let it remain all night in an earthen vessel, then stirring it well, rub some of it all over the mahogany with a linen rag; and when it has lain some time, rub it bright with linen cloths. Dining tables should be covered with mat, oil cloth, or baize, to prevent staining; and should be instantly rubbed when the dishes are removed, while the board is still warm. MAIDS. This kind of fish, as well as skate, requires to be hung up a day before it is dressed, to prevent its eating tough. Maids may either be broiled or fried; or if a tolerable size, the middle part may be boiled, and the fins fried. They should be dipped in egg, and covered with crumbs. MALT. This article varies very much in value, according to the quality of the barley, and the mode of manufacture. When good it is full of flour, and in biting a grain asunder it will easily separate; the shell will appear thin, and well filled up with flour. If it bite hard and steely, the malt is bad. The difference of pale and brown malt arises merely from the different degrees of heat employed in the drying: the main object is the quantity of flour. If the barley was light and thin, whether from unripeness, blight, or any other cause, it will not malt so well; but instead of sending out its roots in due time, a part of it will still be barley. This will appear by putting a handful of unground malt in cold water, and stirring it about till every grain is wetted; the good will swim, and the unmalted barley sink to the bottom. But if the barley be well malted, there is still a variety in the quality: for a bushel of malt from fine, plump, heavy barley, will be better than the same quantity from thin and light barley. Weight therefore here is the criterion of quality; and a bushel of malt weighing forty-five pounds is cheaper than any other at almost any price, supposing it to be free from unmalted barley, for the barley itself is heavier than the malt. The practice of mixing barley with the malt on a principle of economy, is not to be approved; for though it may add a little to the strength of the wort, it makes the beer flat and insipid, and of course unwholesome. MARBLE. Chimney pieces, or marble slabs, may be cleaned with muriatic acid, either diluted or in a pure state. If too strong, it will deprive the marble of its polish, but may be restored by using a piece of felt and a little putty powdered, rubbing it on with clean water. Another method is, making a paste of a bullock's gall, a gill of soap lees, half a gill of turpentine, and a little pipe clay. The paste is then applied to the marble, and suffered to remain a day or two. It is afterwards rubbed off, and applied a second or third time, to render the marble perfectly clean, and give it the finest polish. MARBLE CEMENT. If by any accident, marble or alabaster happen to be broken, it may be strongly cemented together in the following manner. Melt two pounds of bees' wax, and one pound of rosin. Take about the same quantity of marble or other stones that require to be joined, and reduce it to a powder; stir it well together with the melted mixture, and knead the mass in water, till the powder is thoroughly incorporated with the wax and rosin. The parts to be joined must be heated and made quite dry, and the cement applied quite hot. Melted sulphur, laid on fragments of stone previously heated, will make a firm and durable cement. Little deficiencies in stones or corners that have been stripped or broken off, may be supplied with some of the stone powdered and mixed with melted sulphur: but care must be taken to have both parts properly heated. MARBLE PAPER. For marbling books or paper, dissolve four ounces of gum arabac in two quarts of water, and pour it into a broad vessel. Mix several colours with water in separate shells: with small brushes peculiar to each colour, sprinkle and intermix them on the surface of the gum water, and curl them with a stick so as to form a variety of streaks. The edges of a book pressed close may then be slightly dipped in the colours on the surface of the water, and they will take the impression of the mixture. The edges may then be glazed with the white of an egg, and the colours will remain. A sheet of paper may be marbled in the same way. MARBLE STAINS. To take stains out of marble, make a tolerably thick mixture of unslaked lime finely powdered, with some strong soap-ley. Spread it instantly over the marble with a painter's brush, and in two month's time wash it off perfectly clean. Prepare a fine thick lather of soft soap, boiled in soft water; dip a brush in it, and scour the marble well with powder. Clear off the soap, and finish with a smooth hard brush till the stains are all removed. After a very good rubbing, the marble will acquire a beautiful polish. If the marble has been injured by iron stains, take an equal quantity of fresh spirits of vitriol and lemon juice. Mix them in a bottle, shake it well, and wet the spots. Rub with a soft linen cloth, and in a few minutes they will disappear. MARBLE VEAL. The meat is prepared in the same way as potted beef or veal. Then beat up a boiled tongue, or slices of ham, with butter, white pepper, and pounded mace. Put a layer of veal in the pot, then stick in pieces of tongue or ham, fill up the spaces with veal, and pour clarified butter over it. MARKING INK. Mix two drams of the tincture of galls with one dram of lunar caustic, and for marking of linen, use it with a pen as common ink. The cloth must first be wetted in a strong solution of salt of tartar, and afterwards dried, before any attempt be made to write upon it. A beautiful red ink may also be prepared for this purpose by mixing half an ounce of vermillion, and a dram of the salt of steel, with as much linseed oil as will make it of a proper consistency, either to use with a pen or a hair pencil. Other colours may be made in the same way, by substituting the proper ingredients instead of vermillion. MANGOES. Cut off the tops of some large green cucumbers, take out the seeds, and wipe them dry. Fill them with mustard-seed, horseradish, sliced onion, ginger, and whole pepper. Sow on the tops, put the mangoes into a jar, cover them with boiling vinegar, and do them the same as any other pickle. Melons are done in the same way. MARIGOLD WINE. Boil three pounds and a half of lump sugar in a gallon of water, put in a gallon of marigold flowers, gathered dry and picked from the stalks, and then make it as for cowslip wine. If the flowers be gathered only a few at a time, measure them when they are picked, and turn and dry them in the shade. When a sufficient quantity is prepared, put them into a barrel, and pour the sugar and water upon them. Put a little brandy into the bottles, when the wine is drawn off. MARMALADE. For a cough or cold, take six ounces of Malaga raisins, and beat them to a fine paste, with the same quantity of sugarcandy. Add an ounce of the conserve of roses, twenty-five drops of oil of vitriol, and twenty drops of oil of sulphur. Mix them well together, and take a small tea-spoonful night and morning. MARROW BONES. Cover the top of them with a floured cloth, boil and serve them with dry toast. MARSHMALLOW OINTMENT. Take half a pound of marshmallow roots, three ounces of linseed, and three ounces of fenugreek seed; bruise and boil them gently half an hour in a quart of water, and then add two quarts of sweet oil. Boil them together till the water is all evaporated, and strain off the oil. Add a pound of bees' wax, half a pound of yellow rosin, and two ounces of common turpentine. Melt them together over a slow fire, and keep stirring till the ointment is cold. MASHED PARSNIPS. Boil the roots tender, after they have been wiped clean. Scrape them, and mash them in a stewpan with a little cream, a good piece of butter, pepper and salt. MASHED POTATOES. Boil the potatoes, peel them, and reduce them to paste. Add a quarter of a pint of milk to two pounds weight, a little salt, and two ounces of butter, and stir it all well together over the fire. They may either be served up in this state, or in scallops, or put on the dish in a form, and the top browned with a salamander. MATTRASSES. Cushions, mattrasses, and bed clothes stuffed with wool, are particularly liable to be impregnated with what is offensive and injurious, from persons who have experienced putrid and inflammatory fevers, and cannot therefore be too carefully cleaned, carded, and washed. It would also be proper frequently to fumigate them with vinegar or muriatic gas. If these articles be infested with insects, dissolve a pound and a half of alum, and as much cream of tartar, in three pints of boiling water. Mix this solution in three gallons of cold water, immerse the wool in it for several days, and then let it be washed and dried. This operation will prevent the insects from attacking it in future. MEAD. Dissolve thirty pounds of honey in thirteen gallons of water; boil and skim it well. Then add of rosemary, thyme, bay leaves, and sweetbriar, about a handful altogether. Boil the whole for an hour, and put it into a tub, with two or three handfuls of ground malt. Stir it till it is about blood warm, then strain it through a cloth, and return it into the tub. Cut a toast, spread it over with good ale yeast, and put it into the tub. When the liquor has sufficiently fermented, put it into a cask. Take an ounce and a half each of cloves, mace, and nutmegs, and an ounce of sliced ginger. Bruise the spices; tie them up in a cloth, and hang it in the vessel, which must be stopped up close for use.--Another way. Put four or five pounds of honey into a gallon of boiling water, and let it continue to boil an hour and a half. Skim it quite clean, put in the rinds of three or four lemons, and two ounces of hops sewed up in a bag. When cold, put the liquor into a cask, stop it up close, and let it stand eight or nine months. MEASLES. In general, all that is needful in the treatment of this complaint is to keep the body open by means of tamarinds, manna, or other gentle laxatives; and to supply the patient frequently with barley water, or linseed tea sweetened with honey. Bathe the feet in warm water; and if there be a disposition to vomit, it ought to be promoted by drinking a little camomile tea. If the disorder appear to strike inward, the danger may be averted by applying blisters to the arms and legs, and briskly rubbing the whole body with warm flannels. MEAT. In all sorts of provisions, the best of the kind goes the farthest; it cuts out with most advantage, and affords most nourishment. Round of beef, fillet of veal, and leg of mutton, are joints that bear a higher price; but as they have more solid meat, they deserve the preference. Those joints however which are inferior, may be dressed as palatably; and being cheaper, they should be bought in turn; for when weighed with the prime pieces, it makes the price of these come lower. In loins of meat, the long pipe that runs by the bone should be taken out, as it is apt to taint; as also the kernels of beef. Rumps and edgebones of beef are often bruised by the blows which the drovers give the beasts, and the part that has been struck always taints; these joints therefore when bruised should not be purchased. And as great loss is often sustained by the spoiling of meat, after it is purchased, the best way to prevent this is to examine it well, wipe it every day, and put some pieces of charcoal over it. If meat is brought from a distance in warm weather, the butcher should be desired to cover it close, and bring it early in the morning, to prevent its being fly-blown.--All meat should be washed before it is dressed. If for boiling, the colour will be better for the soaking; but if for roasting, it should afterwards be dried. Particular care must be taken that the pot be well skimmed the moment it boils, otherwise the foulness will be dispersed over the meat. The more soups or broth are skimmed, the better and cleaner they will be. Boiled meat should first be well floured, and then put in while the water is cold. Meat boiled quick is sure to be hard; but care must be taken, that in boiling slow it does not stop, or the meat will be underdone. If the steam be kept in, the water will not be much reduced; but if this be desirable, the cover must be removed. As to the length of time required for roasting and boiling, the size of the joint must direct, as also the strength of the fire, and the nearness of the meat to it. In boiling, attention must be paid to the progress it makes, which should be regular and slow. For every pound of meat, a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes is generally allowed, according as persons choose to have it well or underdone. In preparing a joint for roasting, care must be taken not to run the spit through the best parts of the meat, and that no black stains appear upon it at the time of serving. MEAT SAUCE. Put to a clean anchovy, a glass of port wine, a little strong broth, a sliced shalot, some nutmeg, and the juice of a Seville orange. Stew them together, and mix it with the gravy that runs from the meat. MEAT SCREEN. This is a great saver of coals, and should be sufficiently large to guard what is roasting from currents of air. It should be placed on wheels, have a flat top, and not be less than about three feet and a half wide, with shelves in it, about one foot deep. It will then answer all the purposes of a large Dutch oven, a plate warmer, and a hot hearth. Some are made with a door behind, which is convenient; but the great heat to which they are exposed soon shrinks the materials, and the currents of air through the cracks cannot be prevented. Those without a door are therefore best. MEDLEY PIE. Cut into small pieces some fat pork, or other meat underdone, and season it with salt and pepper. Cover the sides of the dish with common crust, put in a layer of sliced apples with a little sugar, then a layer of meat, and a layer of sliced onions, till the dish is full. Put a thick crust over it, and bake it in a slow oven. Currants or scalded gooseberries may be used instead of apples, and the onions omitted. MELON FLUMMERY. Put plenty of bitter almonds into some stiff flummery, and make it of a pale green with spinach juice. When it becomes as thick as cream, wet the melon mould, and put the flummery into it. Put a pint of calf's foot jelly into a bason, and let it stand till the next day: then turn out the melon, and lay it in the midst of the bason of jelly. Fill up the bason with jelly beginning to set, and let it stand all night. Turn it out the next day, the same as for fruit in jelly: make a garland of flowers, and place it on the jelly. MELON MANGOES. There is a particular sort for preserving, which must be carefully distinguished. Cut a square small piece out of one side, and through that take out the seeds, and mix with them mustard-seed and shred garlic. Stuff the melon as full as the space will allow, replace the square piece, and bind it up with fine packthread, boil a good quantity of vinegar, to allow for wasting, with peppercorns, salt, and ginger. Pour the liquor boiling hot over the mangoes four successive days; and on the last day put flour of mustard, and scraped horseradish into the vinegar just as it boils up. Observe that there is plenty of vinegar before it is stopped down, for pickles are soon spoiled if not well covered. Also the greater number of times that boiling vinegar is poured over them, the sooner they will be ready for eating. Mangoes should be pickled soon after they are gathered. Large cucumbers, called green turley, prepared as mangoes, are very excellent, and come sooner to table. MELTED BUTTER. Though a very essential article for the table, it is seldom well prepared. Mix on a trencher, in the proportion of a tea-spoonful of flour to four ounces of the best butter. Put it into a saucepan, and two or three table-spoonfuls of hot water; boil it quick for a minute, and shake it all the time. Milk used instead of water, requires rather less butter, and looks whiter. MICE. The poisonous substances generally prepared for the destruction of mice are attended with danger, and the use of them should by all means be avoided. Besides the common traps, baited with cheese, the following remedy will be found both safe and efficacious. Take a few handfuls of wheat flour, or malt meal, and knead it into a dough. Let it grow sour in a warm place, mix with it some fine iron filings, form the mass into small balls, and put them into the holes frequented by the mice. On eating this preparation, they are inevitably killed. Cats, owls, or hedgehogs, would be highly serviceable in places infested with mice. An effectual mousetrap may be made in the following manner. Take a plain four square trencher, and put into the two contrary corners of it a large pin, or piece of knitting needle. Then take two sticks about a yard long, and lay them on the dresser, with a notch cut at each end of the sticks, placing the two pins on the notches, so that one corner of the trencher may lie about an inch on the dresser or shelf that the mice come to. The opposite corner must be baited with some butter and oatmeal plastered on the trencher; and when the mice run towards the butter, it will tip them into a glazed earthen vessel full of water, which should be placed underneath for that purpose. To prevent the trencher from tipping over so as to lose its balance, it may be fastened to the shelf or dresser with a thread and a little sealing wax, to restore it to its proper position. To prevent their devastations in barns, care should be taken to lay beneath the floor a stratum of sharp flints, fragments of glass mixed with sand, or broken cinders. If the floors were raised on piers of brick, about fifteen inches above the ground, so that dogs or cats might have a free passage beneath the building, it would prevent the vermin from harbouring there, and tend greatly to preserve the grain. Field mice are also very destructive in the fields and gardens, burrowing under the ground, and digging up the earth when newly sown. Their habitations may be discovered by the small mounds of earth that are raised near the entrance, or by the passages leading to their nests; and by following these, the vermin may easily be destroyed. To prevent early peas being eaten by the mice, soak the seed a day or two in train oil before it is sown, which will promote its vegetation, and render the peas so obnoxious to the mice, that they will not eat them. The tops of furze, chopped and thrown into the drills, when the peas are sown, will be an effectual preventive. Sea sand strewed thick on the surface of the ground, round the plants liable to be attacked by the mice, will have the same effect. MILDEW. To remove stains in linen occasioned by mildew, mix some soft soap and powdered starch, half as much salt, and the juice of a lemon. Lay it on the part on both sides with a painter's brush, and let it lie on the grass day and night till the stain disappears. MILK BUTTER. This article is principally made in Cheshire, where the whole of the milk is churned without being skimmed. In the summer time, immediately after milking, the meal is put to cool in earthen jars till it become sufficiently coagulated, and has acquired a slight degree of acidity, enough to undergo the operation of churning. During the summer, this is usually performed in the course of one or two days. In order to forward the coagulation in the winter, the milk is placed near the fire; but in summer, if it has not been sufficiently cooled before it is added to the former meal, or if it has been kept too close, and be not churned shortly after it has acquired the necessary degree of consistence, a fermentation will ensue; in which case the butter becomes rancid, and the milk does not yield that quantity which it would, if churned in proper time. This also is the case in winter, when the jars have been placed too near the fire, and the milk runs entirely to whey. Milk butter is in other respects made like the common butter. MILK AND CREAM. In hot weather, when it is difficult to preserve milk from becoming sour, and spoiling the cream, it may be kept perfectly sweet by scalding the new milk very gently, without boiling, and setting it by in the earthen dish or pan that it is done in. This method is pursued in Devonshire, for making of butter, and for eating; and it would answer equally well in small quantities for the use of the tea table. Cream already skimmed may be kept twenty-four hours if scalded, without sugar; and by adding as much pounded lump sugar as shall make it pretty sweet, it will be good two days, by keeping it in a cool place. MILK PORRIDGE. Make a fine gruel of half grits well boiled, strain it off, add warm or cold milk, and serve with toasted bread. MILK PUNCH. Pare six oranges and six lemons as thin as possible, and grate them afterwards with sugar to extract the flavour. Steep the peels in a bottle of rum or brandy, stopped close twenty-four hours. Squeeze the fruit on two pounds of sugar, add to it four quarts of water, and one of new milk boiling hot. Stir the rum into the above, and run it through a jelly bag till perfectly clear. Bottle and cork it close immediately. MILK OF ROSES. Mix an ounce of oil of almonds with a pint of rose water, and then add ten drops of the oil of tartar. MILK SOUP. Boil a pint of milk with a little salt, cinnamon, and sugar. Lay thin slices of bread in a dish, pour over them a little of the milk, and keep them hot over a stove without burning. When the soup is ready, beat up the yolks of five or six eggs, and add them to the milk. Stir it over the fire till it thickens, take it off before it curdles, and pour it upon the bread in the dish. MILKING. Cows should be milked three times a day in the summer, if duly fed, and twice in the winter. Great care should be taken to drain the milk completely from the udder; for if any be suffered to remain, the cow will give less every meal, till at length she becomes dry before her proper time, and the next season she will scarcely give a sufficient quantity of milk to pay the expences of her keeping. The first milk drawn from a cow is also thinner, and of an inferior quality to that which is afterwards obtained: and this richness increases progressively, to the very last drop that can be drawn from the udder. If a cow's teats be scratched or wounded, her milk will be foul, and should not be mixed with that of other cows, but given to the pigs. In warm weather, the milk should remain in the pail till nearly cold, before it is strained; but in frosty weather this should be done immediately, and a small quantity of boiling water mixed with it. This will produce plenty of cream, especially in trays of a large surface. As cows are sometimes troublesome to milk, and in danger of contracting bad habits, they always require to be treated with great gentleness, especially when young, or while their teats are tender. In this case the udder ought to be fomented with warm water before milking, and the cow soothed with mild treatment; otherwise she will be apt to become stubborn and unruly, and retain her milk ever after. A cow will never let down her milk freely to the person she dreads or dislikes. MILLET PUDDING. Wash three spoonfuls of the seed, put it into a dish with a crust round the edge, pour over it as much new milk as will nearly fill the dish, two ounces of butter warmed with it, sugar, shred lemon peel, and a dust of ginger and nutmeg. As you put it in the oven, stir in two beaten eggs, and a spoonful of shred suet. MINCE PIES. Of scraped beef, free from skin and strings, weigh two pounds, of suet picked and chopped four pounds, and of currants nicely cleaned and perfectly dry, six pounds. Then add three pounds of chopped apples, the peel and juice of two lemons, a pint of sweet wine, a nutmeg, a quarter of an ounce of cloves, the same of mace, and pimento, in the finest powder. Mix the whole well together, press it into a deep pan, and keep it covered in a dry cool place. A little citron, orange, and lemon peel, should be put into each pie when made. The above quantity of mince meat may of course be reduced, in equal proportions, for small families.--Mince pies without meat, are made in the following manner. Pare, core, and mince six pounds of apples; shred three pounds of fresh suet, and stone three pounds of raisins minced. Add to these, a quarter of an ounce each of mace and cinnamon, and eight cloves, all finely powdered. Then three pounds of the finest powder sugar, three quarters of an ounce of salt, the rinds of four and the juice of two lemons, half a pint of port, and half a pint of brandy. Mix well together, and put the ingredients into a deep pan. Prepare four pounds of currants, well washed and dried, and add them when the pies are made, with some candied fruit. MINCED BEEF. Shred fine the underdone part, with some of the fat. Put it into a small stewpan with some onion, or a very small quantity of shalot, a little water, pepper and salt. Boil it till the onion is quite soft; then put some of the gravy of the meat to it, and the mince, but do not let it boil. Prepare a small hot dish with sippets of bread, mix a large spoonful of vinegar with the mince, and pour it into the dish. If shalot vinegar is used, the raw onion and shalot may be dispensed with. MINCED COLLOPS. Chop and mince some beef very small, and season it with pepper and salt. Put it, in its raw state, into small jars, and pour on the top some clarified butter. When to be used, put the clarified butter into a fryingpan, and fry some sliced onions. Add a little water to it, put in the minced meat, and it will be done in a few minutes. This is a favourite Scotch dish, and few families are without it. It keeps well, and is always ready for an extra dish. MINCED VEAL. Cut some cold veal as fine as possible, but do not chop it. Put to it a very little lemon-peel shred, two grates of nutmeg, some salt, and four or five spoonfuls either of weak broth, milk, or water. Simmer these gently with the meat, adding a bit of butter rubbed in flour, but take care not to let it boil. Put sippets of thin toasted bread, cut into a three-cornered shape, round the dish. MINT SAUCE. Pick and wash the mint clean, and chop it fine. Put it into a small bason, and mix it with sugar and vinegar. MINT VINEGAR. As fresh mint is not at all times to be had, a welcome substitute will be found in the preparation of mint vinegar. Dry and pound half an ounce of mint seed, pour upon it a quart of the best vinegar, let it steep ten days, and shake it up every day. This will be useful in the early season of house lamb. MITES. Though they principally affect cheese, there are several species of this insect which breed in flour and other eatables, and do considerable injury. The most effectual method of expelling them is to place a few nutmegs in the sack or bin containing the flour, the odour of which is insupportable to mites; and they will quickly be removed, without the meal acquiring any unpleasant flavour. Thick branches of the lilac, or the elder tree, peeled and put into the flour, will have the same effect. Quantities of the largest sized ants, scattered about cheese-rooms and granaries, would presently devour all the mites, without doing any injury. MIXED WINE. Take an equal quantity of white, red, and black currants, cherries, and raspberries; mash them, and press the juice through a strainer. Boil three pounds of moist sugar in three quarts of water, and skim it clean. When cold, mix a quart of juice with it, and put it into a barrel that will just hold it. Put in the bung, and after it has stood a week, close it up, and let it stand three or four months. When the wine is put into the barrel, add a little brandy to it. MOCK BRAWN. Boil two pair of neat's feet quite tender, and pick all the flesh off the bone. Boil the belly piece of a porker nearly enough, and bone it. Roll the meat of the feet up in the pork, tie it up in a cloth with tape round it, and boil it till it becomes very tender. Hang it up in the cloth till it is quite cold, put it into some souse, and keep it for use. MOCK TURTLE. Divide a calf's head with the skin on, and clean it well. Half boil it, take all the meat off in square pieces, break the bones of the head, and boil them in some veal and beef broth, to add to the richness. Fry some shalot in butter, and dredge in flower enough to thicken the gravy; stir this into the browning, and give it one or two boils. Skim it carefully, and then put in the head; add a pint of Madeira, and simmer till the meat is quite tender. About ten minutes before serving, put in some basil, tarragon, chives, parsley, cayenne pepper, and salt; also two spoonfuls of mushroom ketchup, and one of soy. Squeeze the juice of a lemon into the tureen, and pour the soup upon it. Serve with forcemeat balls, and small eggs.--A cheaper way. Prepare half a calf's head as above, but without the skin. When the meat is cut off, break the bones, and put them into a saucepan with some gravy made of beef and veal bones, and seasoned with fried onions, herbs, mace, and pepper. Have ready prepared two or three ox-palates boiled so tender as to blanch, and cut into small pieces; to which a cow heel, likewise cut into pieces, is a great improvement. Brown some butter, flour, and onion, and pour the gravy to it; then add the meats as above, and stew them together. Add half a pint of sherry, an anchovy, two spoonfuls of walnut ketchup, the same of mushroom ketchup, and some chopped herbs as before. The same sauce as before.--Another way. Put into a pan a knuckle of veal, two fine cow heels, two onions, a few cloves, peppercorns, berries of allspice, mace, and sweet herbs. Cover them with water, tie a thick paper over the pan, and set it in an oven for three hours. When cold, take off the fat very nicely, cut the meat and feet into bits an inch and a half square, remove the bones and coarse parts, and then put the rest on to warm, with a large spoonful of walnut and one of mushroom ketchup, half a pint of sherry or Madeira, a little mushroom powder, and the jelly of the meat. If it want any more seasoning, add some when hot, and serve with hard eggs, forcemeat balls, a squeeze of lemon, and a spoonful of soy. This is a very easy way of making an excellent dish of mock turtle.--Another. Stew a pound and a half of scrag of mutton, with three pints of water till reduced to a quart. Set on the broth, with a calf's foot and a cow heel; cover the stewpan tight, and let it simmer till the meat can be separated from the bones in proper pieces. Set it on again with the broth, adding a quarter of a pint of sherry or Madeira, a large onion, half a tea-spoonful of cayenne, a bit of lemon peel, two anchovies, some sweet herbs, eighteen oysters chopped fine, a tea-spoonful of salt, a little nutmeg, and the liquor of the oysters. Cover it close, and simmer it three quarters, of an hour. Serve with forcemeat balls, and hard eggs in the tureen.--An excellent and very cheap mock turtle may be made of two or three cow heels, baked with two pounds and a half of gravy beef, herbs, and other ingredients as above. MOLES. As these little animals live entirely on worms and insects, of which they consume incalculable numbers, they may be considered as harmless, and even useful, rather than otherwise; and it has been observed in fields and gardens where the moles had been caught, that they afterwards abounded with vermin and insects. But when the moles become too numerous, they are hurtful to vegetation, and require to be destroyed. Besides the common method of setting traps in their subterraneous passages, many might be dug out of the earth by carefully watching their situation and motions before the rising of the sun, and striking in a spade behind them to cut off their retreat. The smell of garlic is so offensive to them, that if a few heads of that plant were thrust into their runs, it would expel them from the place. MOONSHINE PUDDING. Put into a baking dish a layer of very thin bread and butter, strewed over with currants and sweetmeats, and so on till the dish is full. Mix together a pint and a half of cream, the yolks of six eggs, half a grated nutmeg, and some sugar. Pour the mixture on the top of the pudding, and bake it three quarters of an hour. MOOR FOWL. To dress moor fowl with red cabbage, truss the game as for boiling. Set them on the fire with a little soup, and let them stew for half an hour. Cut a red cabbage into quarters, add it to the moor fowl, season with salt and white pepper, and a little piece of butter rolled in flour. A glass of port may be added, if approved. Lift out the cabbage, and place it neatly in the dish, with the moor fowl on it. Pour the sauce over them, and garnish with small slices of fried bacon. MORELLA CHERRIES. When the fruit is quite ripe, take off the stalks, prick them with a pin, and allow a pound and a half of lump sugar to every pound of cherries. Reduce part of the sugar to powder, and strew it over them. Next day dissolve the remainder in half a pint of currant juice, set it over a slow fire, put in the cherries with the sugar, and give them a gentle boil. Take out the cherries carefully, boil the syrup till it is thick, pour it upon the cherries, and tie them down.--Any other kind of fruit may be treated in the same way, only using such kind of juice to boil in the syrup as is most suitable to the fruit to be preserved. It is proper to put apple jelly over jam or preserved fruit, or to sift sugar over the tops of the jars; and when cold, cover them with brandy paper. If the air be admitted, they will not keep. MORELLA WINE. Cleanse from the stalks sixty pounds of morella cherries, and bruise them as to break the stones. Press out the juice, mix it with six gallons of sherry wine, and four gallons of warm water. Powder separately an ounce of nutmeg, cinnamon, and mace, and hang them separately in small bags, in the cask containing the liquor. Bung it down; and in a few weeks it will become a deliciously flavoured wine. MORELS. In their green state they have a very rich, high flavour, and are delicious additions to some dishes, or sent up as a stew by themselves, when they are fresh and fine. When dried they are of very little use, and serve only to soak up good gravy, from which they take more flavour than they give. MOSS. To destroy moss on trees, remove it with a hard brush early in the spring of the year, and wash the trees afterwards with urine or soap suds, and plaster them with cow dung. When a sort of white down appears on apple trees, clear off the red stain underneath it, and anoint the infected parts with a mixture of train oil and Scotch snuff, which will effectually cure the disease. MOTHS. One of the most speedy remedies for their complete extirpation, is the smell of turpentine, whether it be by sprinkling it on woollen stuffs, or placing sheets of paper moistened with it between pieces of cloth. It is remarkable that moths are never known to infest wool unwashed, or in its natural state, but always abandon the place where such raw material is kept. Those persons therefore to whom the smell of turpentine is offensive, may avail themselves of this circumstance, and place layers of undressed wool between pieces of cloth, or put small quantities in the corners of shelves and drawers containing drapery of that description. This, or shavings of the cedar, small slips of Russia leather, or bits of camphor, laid in boxes or drawers where furs or woollen clothes are kept, will effectually preserve them from the ravages of the moth and other insects. MUFFINS. Stir together a pint of yeast with a pint and half of warm milk and water, and a little salt. Strain it into a quarter of a peck of fine flour, knead it well, and set it an hour to rise. Pull it into small pieces, roll it into balls with the hand, and keep them covered up warm. Then spread them into muffins, lay them on tins, and bake them; and as the bottoms begin to change colour, turn them on the other side. A better sort may be made by adding two eggs, and two ounces of butter melted in half a pint of milk. Muffins should not be cut, but pulled open. MULBERRY SYRUP. Put the mulberries into a kettle of water, and simmer them over the fire till the juice runs from them. Squeeze out the juice, and add twice the weight of sugar. Set it over a slow fire, skim it clean, and simmer it till the sugar is quite dissolved. MULBERRY WINE. Gather mulberries on a dry day, when they are just changed from redness to a shining black. Spread them thinly on a fine cloth, or on a floor or table, for twenty-four hours, and then press them. Boil a gallon of water with each gallon of juice, putting to every gallon of water an ounce of cinnamon bark, and six ounces of sugarcandy finely powdered. Skim and strain the water when it is taken off and settled, and put it to the mulberry juice. Now add to every gallon of the mixture, a pint of white or Rhenish wine. Let the whole stand in a cask to ferment, for five or six days. When settled draw it off into bottles, and keep it cool. MULLED ALE. Boil a pint of good sound ale with a little grated nutmeg and sugar, beat up three eggs, and mix them with a little cold ale. Then pour the hot ale to it, and return it several times to prevent its curdling. Warm and stir it till it is thickened, add a piece of butter or a glass of brandy, and serve it up with dry toast. MULLED WINE. Boil some spice in a little water till the flavour is gained, then add an equal quantity of port, with sugar and nutmeg. Boil all together, and serve with toast.--Another way. Boil a blade of cinnamon and some grated nutmeg a few minutes, in a large tea-cupful of water. Pour to it a pint of port wine, add a little sugar, beat it up, and it will be ready. Good home-made wine may be substituted instead of port. MUMBLED HARE. Boil the hare, but not too much; take off the flesh, and shred it very fine. Add a little salt, nutmeg, lemon peel, and the juice of a lemon. Put it into a stewpan with a dozen eggs, and a pound of butter, and keep it stirring. MUSCLE PLUM CHEESE. Weigh six pounds of the fruit, bake it in a stone jar, remove the stones, and put in the kernels after they are broken and picked. Pour half the juice on two pounds and a half of Lisbon sugar; when melted and simmered a few minutes, skim it, and add the fruit. Keep it doing very gently till the juice is much reduced, but take care to stir it constantly, to prevent its burning. Pour it into small moulds, pattipans, or saucers. The remaining juice may serve to colour creams, or be added to a pie. MUSHROOMS. Before these are prepared for eating, great care must be taken to ascertain that they are genuine, as death in many instances has been occasioned by using a poisonous kind of fungus, resembling mushrooms. The eatable mushrooms first appear very small, of a round form, and on a little stalk. They grow very fast, and both the stalk and the upper part are white. As the size increases, the under part gradually opens, and shows a kind of fringed fur, of a very fine salmon colour; which continues more or less till the mushroom has gained some size, and then it turns to a dark brown. These marks should be attended to, and likewise whether the skin can be easily parted from the edges and middle. Those that have a white or yellow fur should be carefully avoided, though many of them have a similar smell, but not so strong and fragrant, as the genuine mushroom. Great numbers of these may be produced, by strewing on an old hotbed the broken pieces of mushrooms; or if the water in which they have been washed be poured on the bed, it will nearly answer the same purpose. MUSHROOMS DRIED. Wipe them clean, take out the brown part of the large ones, and peel off the skin. Lay them on paper to dry in a cool oven, and keep them in paper bags in a dry place. When used, simmer them in the gravy, and they will swell to nearly their former size. Or before they are made into powder, it is a good way to simmer them in their own liquor till it dry up into them, shaking the pan all the time, and afterwards drying them on tin plates. Spice may be added or not. Tie the mushrooms down close in a bottle, and keep it in a dry place. MUSHROOM KETCHUP. Take the largest broad mushrooms, break them into an earthen pan, strew salt over, and stir them occasionally for three days. Then let them stand twelve days, till there is a thick scum over. Strain and boil the liquor with Jamaica and black peppers, mace, ginger, a clove or two, and some mustard seed. When cold, bottle it, and tie a bladder over the cork. In three months boil it again with fresh spice, and it will then keep a twelvemonth.--Another way. Fill a stewpan with large flap mushrooms, that are not worm-eaten, and the skins and fringe of such as have been pickled. Throw a handful of salt among them, and set them by a slow fire. They will produce a great deal of liquor, which must be strained; then add four ounces of shalots, two cloves of garlic, a good deal of whole pepper, ginger, mace, cloves, and a few bay leaves. Boil and skim it well, and when cold, cork it up close. In two months boil it up again with a little fresh spice, and a stick of horseradish. It will then keep a year, which mushroom ketchup rarely does, if not boiled a second time. MUSHROOM POWDER. Wash half a peck of large mushrooms while quite fresh, and free them from grit and dirt with flannel. Scrape out the black part clean, and do not use any that are worm-eaten. Put them into a stewpan over the fire without any water, with two large onions, some cloves, a quarter of an ounce of mace, and two spoonfuls of white pepper, all in powder. Simmer and shake them till all the liquor be dried up, but be careful they do not burn. Lay them on tins or sieves in a slow oven till they are dry enough to beat to powder; then put the powder into small bottles, corked, and tied closely, and kept in a dry place. A tea-spoonful of this powder will give a very fine flavour to any soup or gravy, or any sauce; and it is to be added just before serving, and one boil given to it after it is put in. MUSHROOM SAUCE. Melt some butter with flour, in a little milk or cream. Put in some mushrooms, a little salt and nutmeg, and boil it up together in a saucepan. Or put the mushrooms into melted butter, with veal gravy, salt, and nutmeg. MUSLIN PATTERNS. In order to copy muslin patterns, the drawing is to be placed on a sheet of white paper, and the outline pricked through with a pin. The white sheet may then be laid on a second clear one, and a muslin bag of powdered charcoal sifted or rubbed over it. The pierced paper being removed, a perfect copy may be traced on the other; and in this way, patterns may be multiplied very expeditiously. MUSTARD. Mix by degrees, the best Durham flour of mustard with boiling water, rubbing it perfectly smooth, till it comes to a proper thickness. Add a little salt, keep it in a small jar close covered, and put only as much into the glass as will be used soon. The glass should be wiped daily round the edges. If for immediate use, mix the mustard with new milk by degrees, till it is quite smooth, and a little raw cream. It is much softer this way, does not taste bitter, and will keep well. A tea-spoonful of sugar, to half a pint of mustard, is a great improvement, and tends much to soften it. Patent mustard is nearly as cheap as any other, and is generally preferred. MUSTY FLOUR. When flour has acquired a musty smell and taste, from dampness and other causes, it may be recovered by the simple use of magnesia, allowing thirty grains of the carbonate to one pound of flour. It is to be leavened and baked in the usual way of making bread. The loaves will be found to rise well in the oven, to be more light and spongy, and also whiter than bread in the common way. It will likewise have an excellent taste, and will keep well. The use of magnesia in bread making is well worthy of attention, for if it improves musty flour, and renders it palatable, it would much more improve bread in general, and be the interest of families to adopt it. The use of magnesia in bread, independent of its improving qualities, is as much superior to that of alum as one substance can be to another. MUTTON. In cutting up mutton, in order to its being dressed, attention should be paid to the different joints. The pipe that runs along the bone of the inside of a chine must be removed, and if the meat is to be kept some time, the part close round the tail should be rubbed with salt, after first cutting out the kernel. A leg is apt to be first tainted in the fat on the thick part, where the kernel is lodged, and this therefore should be removed, or the meat cannot be expected to keep well. The chine and rib bones should be wiped every day, and the bloody part of the neck be cut off to preserve it. The brisket changes first in the breast; and if it is to be kept, it is best to rub it with a little salt, should the weather be hot. Every kernel should be taken out of all sorts of meat as soon as it is brought in, and then wiped dry. For roasting, it should hang as long as it will keep, the hind quarter especially, but not so long as to taint; for whatever may be authorised by the prevailing fashion, putrid juices certainly ought not to be taken into the stomach. Great care should be taken to preserve by paper the fat of what is roasted. Mutton for boiling will not look of a good colour, if it has hung long.--In purchasing this meat, choose it by the fineness of the grain, the goodness of its colour, and see that the fat be firm and white. It is not the better for being young: if it be wether mutton, of a good breed and well fed, it is best for age. The flesh of ewe mutton is paler, and the texture finer. Ram mutton is very strong flavoured, the flesh is of a deep red, and the fat is spongy: wether mutton is the best. MUTTON BROTH. Soak a neck of mutton in water for an hour, cut off the scrag, and put it into a stewpot, with two quarts of water. As soon as it boils, skim it well, and simmer it an hour and a half. Cut the best end of the mutton into pieces, two bones in each, and take off some of the fat. Prepare four or five carrots, as many turnips, and three onions, all sliced, but not cut small. Put them soon enough to get quite tender, and add four large spoonfuls of Scotch barley, first wetted with cold water. Twenty minutes before serving, put in some chopped parsley, add a little salt, and send up all together. This is a Scotch dish, and esteemed very excellent in the winter. MUTTON CHOPS. Cut them from the loin or neck, broil them on a clear fire, and turn them often, or the fat dropping into the fire will smoke them. When done, put them into a warm dish, rub them with butter, slice a shalot in a spoonful of boiling water, with a little salt and ketchup, and pour it over the chops. The ketchup may be omitted, and plain butter used instead. MUTTON CHOPS IN DISGUISE. Prepare a seasoning of chopped parsley and thyme, grated bread, pepper and salt. Smear the chops over with egg, strew the seasoning on them, and roll each in buttered paper. Close the ends, put them in a Dutch oven or fryingpan, and let them broil slowly. When done, send them to table in the paper, with gravy in a boat. MUTTON COLLOPS. From a loin of mutton that has been well kept, cut some thin collops nearest to the leg. Take out the sinews, season the collops with salt, pepper, and mace; and strew over them shred parsley, thyme, and two or three shalots. Fry them in butter till half done; add half a pint of gravy, a little lemon juice, and a piece of butter rubbed in flour. Simmer them together very gently for five minutes, and let the collops be served up immediately, or they will become hard. MUTTON CUTLETS. To do them in the Portuguese way, half fry the chops with sliced shalot or onion, chopped parsley, and two bay leaves. Season with pepper and salt; then lay a forcemeat on a piece of white paper, put the chop on it, and twist the paper up, leaving a hole for the end of the bones to go through. Broil the cutlets on a gentle fire, serve them with a little gravy, or with sauce Robart. MUTTON HAM. Choose a fine-grained leg of wether mutton, of twelve or fourteen pounds weight; cut it ham shape, and let it hang two days. Then put into a stewpan half a pound of bay salt, the same of common salt, two ounces of saltpetre, and half a pound of coarse sugar, all in powder. Mix, and make it quite hot; then rub it well into the ham. Let it be turned in the liquor every day; at the end of four days add two ounces more of common salt; in twelve days take it out, dry it, and hang it up a week in wood smoke. It is to be used in slices, with stewed cabbage, mashed potatoes, or eggs. MUTTON HASHED. Cut thin slices of dressed mutton, fat and lean, and flour them. Boil the bones with a little onion, season the meat, and warm it up with the gravy, but it should not boil. Instead of onion, a clove, a spoonful of currant jelly, and a glass of port wine, will make it taste like venison. MUTTON KEBOBBED. Take all the fat out of a loin of mutton, and that on the outside also if too fat, and remove the skin. Joint it at every bone, mix a small nutmeg grated with a little salt and pepper, crumbs of bread, and herbs. Dip the steaks into the yolks of three eggs, and sprinkle the above mixture all over them. Then place the steaks together as they were before they were cut asunder, tie and fasten them on a small spit. Roast them before a quick fire; set a dish under, and baste them with a good piece of butter, and the liquor that comes from the meat, but throw some more of the above seasoning over. When done enough, lay the meat in a dish. Prepare an additional half pint of good gravy, put into it two spoonfuls of ketchup, and rub down a tea-spoonful of flour with it. Give it a boil, skim off all the fat, and pour it over the mutton. Be careful to keep the meat hot, till the gravy is quite ready. MUTTON PIE. Cut steaks from a loin or neck of mutton that has hung some time; beat them, and remove some of the fat. Season with salt, pepper, and a little onion. Put a little water at the bottom of the dish, and a little paste on the edge; then cover it with a tolerably thick paste. Or raise small pies, breaking each bone in two to shorten it; cover it over, and pinch the edges together. When the pies come from the oven, pour into each a spoonful of good mutton gravy. MUTTON PUDDING. Season some chops with salt and pepper, and a taste of onion. Place a layer of meat at the bottom of the dish, pour over them a batter of potatoes boiled and pressed through a cullender, and mixed with an egg and milk. Put in the rest of the chops, and the batter, and bake it. Batter made of flour eats very well, but requires more egg, and is not so good as potatoe. Another way is to cut slices off a leg that has been underdone, and put them into a bason lined with a fine suet crust. Season with pepper and salt, and finely shred onion or shalot. MUTTON RUMPS AND KIDNEYS. Stew six rumps in some good mutton gravy half an hour; then take them up, and let them stand to cool. Clear the gravy from the fat, and put into it four ounces of boiled rice, an onion stuck with cloves, and a blade of mace. Boil them till the rice is thick. Wash the rumps with yolks of eggs well beaten, and strew over them crumbs of bread, a little pepper and salt, chopped parsley and thyme, and grated lemon peel, fried in butter, of a fine brown. While the rumps are stewing, lard the kidneys, and set them to roast in a Dutch oven. When the rumps are ready, the grease must be drained from them before they are put in the dish; the pan being cleared likewise from the fat, warm up the rice in it. Lay the latter on the dish, place the rumps round upon the rice, the narrow ends towards the middle, and the kidneys between. Garnish with hard eggs cut in halves, the white being left on, or with different coloured pickles. MUTTON SAUCE. Two spoonfuls of the liquor in which the mutton is boiled, the same quantity of vinegar, two or three shalots finely shred, with a little salt, put into a saucepan with a bit of butter rolled in flour, stirred together and boiled once, will make good sauce for boiled mutton. MUTTON SAUSAGES. Take a pound of the rawest part of a leg of mutton that has been either roasted or boiled; chop it quite small, and season it with pepper, salt, mace, and nutmeg. Add to it six ounces of beef suet, some sweet herbs, two anchovies, and a pint of oysters, all chopped very small; a quarter of a pound of grated bread, some of the anchovy liquor, and two eggs well beaten. When well mixed together, put it into a small pot; and use it by rolling it into balls or sausages, and fry them. If approved, a little shalot may be added, or garlick, which is a great improvement. MUTTON STEAKS. These should be cut from a loin or neck that has been well kept; if a neck, the bones should not be long. Broil them on a clear fire, season them when half done, and let them be often turned. Take them up into a very hot dish, rub a bit of butter on each, and serve them up hot and hot the moment they are done.--To do them Maintenon, half fry them first, then stew them while hot, with herbs, crumbs, and seasoning. Rub a bit of butter on some writing paper, to prevent its catching the fire, wrap the steaks in it, and finish them on the gridiron. N. NANKEEN DYE. The article generally sold under this title, and which produces a fine buff colour so much in use, is made of equal parts of arnetto and common potash, dissolved and boiled in water. The yellow colour called Dutch Pink, is made from a decoction of weld or dyer's weed; and if blue cloths be dipped in this liquid, they will take the colour of a fine green. NASTURTIONS, if intended for capers, should be kept a few days after they are gathered. Then pour boiling vinegar over them, and cover them close when cold. They will not be fit to eat for some months; but are then finely flavoured, and by many are preferred to capers. NEAT'S TONGUE. If intended to be stewed, it should be simmered for two hours, and peeled. Then return it to the same liquor, with pepper, salt, mace, and cloves, tied up in a piece of cloth. Add a few chopped capers, carrots and turnips sliced, half a pint of beef gravy, a little white wine, and sweet herbs. Stew it gently till it is tender, take out the herbs and spices, and thicken the gravy with butter rolled in flour. NECK OF MUTTON. This joint is particularly useful, because so many dishes may be made of it; but it is not esteemed advantageous for a family. The bones should be cut short, which the butchers will not do unless particularly desired. The best end of the neck may be boiled, and served with turnips; or roasted, or dressed in steaks, in pies, or harrico. The scrags may be stewed in broth; or with a small quantity of water, some small onions, a few peppercorns, and a little rice, and served together. When a boiled neck is to look particularly nice, saw down the chine bone, strip the ribs halfway down, and chop off the ends of the bones about four inches. The skin should not be taken off till boiled, and then the fat will look the whiter. When there is more fat than is agreeable, it makes a very good suet pudding, or crust for a meat pie if cut very fine. NECK OF PORK. A loin or neck of pork should be roasted. Cut the skin across with a sharp penknife, at distances of half an inch. Serve with vegetables and apple sauce. NECK OF VEAL. Cut off the scrag to boil, and cover it with onion sauce. It should be boiled in milk and water. Parsley and butter may be served with it, instead of onion sauce. Or it may be stewed with whole rice, small onions, and peppercorns, with a very little water. It may also be boiled and eaten with bacon and greens. The best end of the neck may either be roasted, broiled as steaks, or made into a pie. NECK OF VENISON. Rub it with salt, and let it lie four or five days. Flour it, and boil it in a cloth, allowing to every pound a quarter of an hour. Cauliflower, turnips, and cabbages, are eaten with it, and melted butter. Garnish the dish with some of the vegetables. NELSON PUDDINGS. Put into a Dutch oven six small cakes, called Nelson balls or rice cakes, made in small teacups. When quite hot, pour over them boiling melted butter, white wine, and sugar. NEW CASKS. If not properly prepared before they are used, new casks are apt to give beer and other liquor a bad taste. They must therefore be well scalded and seasoned several days successively before they are used, and frequently filled with fresh water. The best way however is to boil two pecks of bran or malt dust in a copper of water, and pour it hot into the cask; then stop it up close, let it stand two days, wash it out clean, and let the cask be well dried. NEWCASTLE PUDDING. Butter a half melon mould or quart basin, stick it all round with dried cherries or fine raisins, and fill it up with custard and layers of thin bread and butter. Boil or steam it an hour and a half. NEWMARKET PUDDING. Put on to boil a pint of good milk, with half a lemon peel, a little cinnamon, and a bay leaf. Boil it gently for five or ten minutes, sweeten with loaf sugar, break the yolks of five and the whites of three eggs into a basin, beat them well, and add the milk. Beat it all up well together, and strain it through a tammis, or fine hair sieve. Prepare some bread and butter cut thin, place a layer of it in a pie dish, and then a layer of currants, and so on till the dish is nearly full. Pour the custard over it, and bake it half an hour. NORFOLK DUMPLINS. Make a thick batter with half a pint of milk and flour, two eggs, and a little salt. Take a spoonful of the batter, and drop it gently into boiling water; and if the water boil fast, they will be ready in a few minutes. Take them out with a wooden spoon, and put them into a dish with a piece of butter. These are often called drop dumplins, or spoon dumplins. NORFOLK PUNCH. To make a relishing liquor that will keep many years, and improve by age, put the peels of thirty lemons and thirty oranges into twenty quarts of French brandy. The fruit must be pared so thin and carefully, that not the least of the white is left. Let it infuse twelve hours. Prepare thirty quarts of cold water that has been boiled, put to it fifteen pounds of double-refined sugar, and when well incorporated, pour it upon the brandy and peels, adding the juice of the oranges and of twenty-four lemons. Mix them well, strain the liquor through a fine hair sieve, into a very clean cask, that has held spirits, and add two quarts of new milk. Stir the liquor, then bung it down close, and let it stand six weeks in a warm cellar. Bottle off the liquor, but take care that the bottles be perfectly clean and dry, the corks of the best quality, and well put in. Of course a smaller quantity of this punch may be made, by observing only the above proportions.--Another way. Pare six lemons and three Seville oranges very thin, squeeze the juice into a large teapot, put to it three quarts of brandy, one of white wine, one of milk, and a pound and a quarter of lump sugar. Let it be well mixed, and then covered for twenty-four hours. Strain it through a jelly bag till quite clear, and then bottle it off. NORTHUMBERLAND PUDDING. Make a hasty pudding with a pint of milk and flour, put it into a bason, and let it stand till the next day. Then mash it with a spoon, add a quarter of a pound of clarified butter, as many currants picked and washed, two ounces of candied peel cut small, and a little sugar and brandy. Bake it in teacups, turn them out on a dish, and pour wine sauce over them. NOSE BLEEDING. Violent bleeding at the nose may sometimes be prevented by applying lint dipped in vinegar, or a strong solution of white vitriol, with fomentations of the temples and forehead made of nitre dissolved in water. But as bleeding at the nose is often beneficial, it should not be suddenly stopped. NOTICE TO QUIT. The usual mode of letting houses is by the year, at a certain annual rent to be paid quarterly: therefore unless a written agreement can be produced, to show that the premises were engaged for a shorter period, the law considers the tenant as entered for one whole year, provided the rent exceeds forty shillings per annum, and this consideration must govern the notice to quit. Every tenant who holds from year to year, which is presumed to be the case in every instance where proof is not given to the contrary, is entitled to half a year's notice, which must be given in such a manner that the tenant must quit the premises at the same quarter day on which he took possession: so that if his rent commenced at Michaelmas, the notice must be served at or before Lady-day, that he may quit at Michaelmas. If a tenant come in after any of the regular quarter days, and pay a certain sum for the remainder of the quarter, he does not commence annual tenant until the remainder of the quarter is expired; but if he pay rent for the whole quarter, he is to be considered as yearly tenant from the commencement of his rent, and his notice to quit must be regulated accordingly. Should it happen that the landlord cannot ascertain the precise time when the tenancy commenced, he may enquire of the tenant, who must be served with notice to quit at the time he mentions, and must obey the warning agreeably to his own words, whether it be the true time or not. If he refuse to give the desired information, the landlord, instead of 'on or before midsummer next,' must give in his notice, 'at the end and expiration of the current year of your tenancy, which shall expire next after the end of one half year from the date hereof.' If notice be given up to a wrong time, or a quarter instead of half a year, such warning will be sufficient, if the party make no objection at the time he receives it. When premises are held by lease, the expiration of the term is sufficient notice to quit, without giving any other warning for that purpose. The following is the form of a landlord's notice to his tenant:--'I do hereby give you notice to quit the house and premises you hold of me, situate in the parish of ------ in the county of ------ on or before midsummer next. Dated the ------ day of ------ in the year ------ R. C.'--The following is a tenant's notice to his landlord:--'Sir, I hereby give you warning of my intention to quit your house in the parish of ------ on or before Michaelmas next. Dated the ------ day of ------ in the year ------ C. R.'--These forms will also serve for housekeepers and lodgers, if 'apartment' be added instead of house or premises. Care however must be taken to give the address correctly: 'R. C. landlord of the said premises, to C. R. the tenant thereof.' Or, 'To Mr. R. C. the landlord of the said premises.' NOTTINGHAM PUDDING. Peel six large apples, take out the core with the point of a small knife or an apple scoop, but the fruit must be left whole. Fill up the centre with sugar, place the fruit in a pie dish, and pour over a nice light batter, prepared as for batter pudding, and bake it an hour in a moderate oven. NUTMEG GRATERS. Those made with a trough, and sold by the ironmongers, are by far the best, especially for grating fine and fast. NUTS. Hazel nuts may be preserved in great perfection for several months, by burying them in earthen pots well closed, a foot or two in the ground, especially in a dry or sandy place. O. OAT CAKES. These may be made the same as muffins, only using fine Yorkshire oatmeal instead of flour. Another sort is made of fine oatmeal, warm water, yeast and salt, beat to a thick batter, and set to rise in a warm place. Pour some of the batter on a baking stone, to any size you please, about as thick as a pancake. Pull them open to butter them, and set them before the fire. If muffins or oat cakes get stale, dip them in cold water, and crisp them in a Dutch oven. OATMEAL. This article has undergone a very considerable improvement, since the introduction of what are termed Embden Groats, manufactured in England it is true, out of Dutch oats, but of a quality superior to any thing before known in this country under the name of oatmeal, and which may now be had of almost all retailers at a moderate price. OATMEAL FLUMMERY. Put three large handfuls of fine oatmeal into two quarts of spring water, and let it steep a day and a night. Pour off the clear water, put in the same quantity of fresh water, and strain the oatmeal through a fine sieve. Boil it till it is as thick as hasty pudding, keep it stirring all the time, that it may be smooth and fine. When first strained, a spoonful of sugar should be added, two spoonfuls of orange flower-water, two or three spoonfuls of cream, a blade of mace, and a bit of lemon peel. When boiled enough, pour the flummery into a shallow dish, and serve it up. OATMEAL PUDDING. Pour a quart of boiling milk over a pint of the best oatmeal, and let it soak all night. Next day beat two eggs, and mix a little salt. Butter a bason that will just hold it, cover it tight with a floured cloth, and boil it an hour and a half. Eat it with cold butter and salt. When cold, slice and toast it, and eat it as oat-cake, buttered. OLD WRITINGS. When old deeds or writings are so much defaced that they can scarcely be deciphered, bruise and boil a few nut galls in white wine; or if it be a cold infusion, expose it to the sun for two or three days. Then dip a sponge into the infusion, pass it over the writing that is sunk, and it will instantly be revived, if the infusion be strong enough of the galls. Vitriolic or nitrous acid a little diluted with water, will also render the writing legible; but care must be taken that the solution be not too strong, or it will destroy the paper or the parchment which contains the writing. OINTMENTS. An excellent ointment for burns, scalds, chilblains, and dressing blisters, may be made in the following manner. Take eight ounces of hog's lard quite fresh, one ounce of bees' wax, and one of honey. Put them into a kettle over the fire, and stir it together till it is all melted. Pour it into a jar for keeping, add a large spoonful of rose water, and keep stirring it till it is cold.--Bad scalds and burns should first have a poultice of grated potatoes applied to them for several hours, and then a plaster of the ointment, which must be renewed morning and evening.--For blisters, a plaster of this should be spread rather longer than the blister, and put on over the blister plaster when it has been on twenty-four hours, or sooner if it feel uneasy. By this means the blister plaster will slip off when it has done drawing, without any pain or trouble.--For chilblains, it has never been known to fail of a cure, if the feet have been kept clean, dry, and warm.--An emollient ointment, for anointing any external inflammations, may be made as follows. Take two pounds of palm oil, a pint and a half of olive oil, half a pound of yellow wax, and a quarter of a pound of Venice turpentine. Melt the wax in the oil over the fire, mix in the turpentine, and strain off the ointment. OINTMENT FOR BURNS. Scrape two ounces of bees' wax into half a pint of sallad oil, and let it simmer gently over the fire till the whole is incorporated. Take it off the fire, beat up the yolks of three eggs with a spoonful of oil, and stir up all together till it is quite cold. OINTMENT FOR THE EYES. This is made of four ounces of fresh lard, two drams of white wax, and one ounce of prepared tutty. Melt the wax with the lard over a gentle fire, and sprinkle in the tutty, continually stirring them till the ointment is cold. OINTMENT OF LEAD. This should consist of half a pint of olive oil, two ounces of white wax, and three drams of the sugar of lead finely powdered. Rub the sugar of lead with some of the oil, add to it the other ingredients, which should be previously melted together, and stir them till the ointment is quite cold. This cooling ointment may be used in all cases where the intention is to dry and skin over the wound, as in burns and scalds. OINTMENT OF MARSHMALLOWS. Take half a pound of marshmallow roots, three ounces of linseed, and three ounces of fennugreek seed. Bruise and boil them gently half an hour in a quart of water, and then add two quarts of sweet oil. Boil them together till the water is all evaporated: then strain off the oil, and add to it a pound of bees' wax, half a pound of yellow rosin, and two ounces of common turpentine. Melt them together over a slow fire, and keep stirring till the ointment is cold. OINTMENT OF SULPHUR. This is the safest and best application for the itch, and will have no disagreeable smell, if made in the following manner. Take four ounces of fresh lard, an ounce and a half of flour of sulphur, two drams of crude sal-ammoniac, and ten or a dozen drops of lemon essence. When made into an ointment, rub it on the parts affected. OLIVES. This foreign article, sent over in a state of preservation, requires only to be kept from the air. Olives are of three kinds, Italian, Spanish, and French, of different sizes and flavour. Each should be firm, though some are most fleshy. OMLET. Make a batter of eggs and milk, and a very little flour. Add chopped parsley, green onions, or chives, or a very small quantity of shalot, a little pepper and salt, and a scrape or two of nutmeg. Boil some butter in a small frying-pan, and pour the above batter into it. When one side is of a fine yellow brown, turn it and do the other: double it when served. Some lean ham scraped, or grated tongue, put in at first, is a very pleasant addition. Four eggs will make a pretty omlet, but some will use eight or ten, and only a small proportion of flour, but a good deal of parsley. If the taste be approved, a little tarragon will give a fine flavour. Ramakins and omlet, though usually served in the course, would be much better if they were sent up after, that they might be eaten as hot as possible. ONION GRAVY. Peel and slice some onions into a small stewpan, with an ounce of butter, adding cucumber or celery if approved. Set it on a slow fire, and turn the onion about till it is lightly browned; then stir in half an ounce of flour, a little broth, a little pepper and salt, and boil it up for a few minutes. Add a table-spoonful of port wine, the same of mushroom ketchup, and rub it through a fine sieve. It may be sharpened with a little lemon juice or vinegar. The flavour of this sauce may be varied by adding tarragon, or burnt vinegar. ONION SAUCE. Peel the onions and boil them tender. Squeeze the water from them, chop and add them to butter that has been melted rich and smooth, with a little good milk instead of water. Boil it up once, and serve it for boiled rabbits, partridges, scrag or knuckle of veal or roast mutton. A turnip boiled with the onions makes them milder. ONION SOUP. Put some carrots, turnips, and a shank bone, into the liquor in which a leg or neck of mutton has been boiled, and simmer them together two hours. Strain it on six onions, sliced and fried of a light brown; simmer the soup three hours, and skim it carefully. Put a small roll into it, or fried bread, and serve it up hot. ONIONS. In order to obtain a good crop of onions, it is proper to sow at different seasons. On light soils sow in August, January, or early in February: on heavy wet soils in March, or early in April. Onions however should not be sown so soon as January, unless the ground be in a dry state, which is not often the case at that time of the year: otherwise, advantage should be taken of it. As this valuable root is known frequently to fail by the common method of culture, the best way is to sow the seed successively, that advantage may be taken of the seasons as they happen. ORANGE BISCUITS. Boil whole Seville oranges in two or three waters, till most of the bitterness is gone. Cut them, and take out the pulp and juice; then beat the outside very fine in a mortar, and put to it an equal weight of double-refined sugar beaten and sifted. When extremely well mixed to a paste, spread it thin on china dishes, and set them in the sun, or before the fire. When half dry, cut it into what form you please, and turn the other side up to dry. Keep the biscuits in a box, with layers of paper. They are intended for desserts, and are also useful as a stomachic, to carry in the pocket on journeys, and for gouty stomachs. ORANGE BRANDY. Steep the peels of twenty Seville oranges in three quarts of brandy, and let it stand a fortnight in a stone bottle. Boil two quarts of water with a pound and a half of loaf sugar nearly an hour, clarify,it with the white of an egg, strain it, and boil it till reduced nearly one half. When cold, strain the brandy into the syrup. ORANGE BUTTER. Boil six hard eggs, beat them in a mortar with two ounces of fine sugar, three ounces of butter, and two ounces of blanched almonds beaten to a paste. Moisten with orange-flower water; and when all is mixed, rub it through a cullender on a dish, and serve with sweet biscuits between. ORANGE CHEESECAKES. Blanch half a pound of almonds, beat them very fine, with orange-flower water, half a pound of fine sugar beaten and sifted, a pound of butter that has been melted carefully without oiling, and which must be nearly cold before it is used. Then beat the yolks of ten and the whites of four eggs. Pound in a mortar two candied oranges, and a fresh one with the bitterness boiled out, till they are as tender as marmalade, without any lumps. Beat the whole together, and put it into pattipans. ORANGE CHIPS. Cut oranges in halves, squeeze the juice through a sieve, and soak the peels in water. Next day boil them in the same till tender; then drain and slice the peels, add them to the juice, weigh as much sugar, and put all together into a broad earthen dish. Place the dish at a moderate distance from the fire, often stirring till the chips candy, and then set them in a cool room to dry, which commonly requires about three weeks. ORANGE CREAM. Boil the rind of a Seville orange very tender, and beat it fine in a mortar. Add to it a spoonful of the best brandy, the juice of a Seville orange, four ounces of loaf sugar, and the yolks of four eggs. Beat them all together for ten minutes; then by gentle degrees, pour in a pint of boiling cream, and beat it up till cold. Set some custard cups into a deep dish of boiling water, pour the cream into the cups, and let it stand again till cold. Put at the top some small strips of orange paring cut thin, or some preserved chips. ORANGE-FLOWER CAKES. Soak four ounces of the leaves of the flowers in cold water for an hour; drain, and put them between napkins, and roll with a rolling-pin till they are bruised. Have ready boiled a pound of sugar to add to it in a thick syrup, give them a simmer until the syrup adheres to the sides of the pan, drop it in little cakes on a plate, and dry them in a cool room. ORANGE FOOL. Mix the juice of three Seville oranges, three eggs well beaten, a pint of cream, a little nutmeg and cinnamon, and sweeten it to taste. Set the whole over a slow fire, and stir it till it becomes as thick as good melted butter, but it must not be boiled. Then pour it into a dish for eating cold. ORANGE JAM. Lay half a dozen oranges in water four or five days, changing the water once or twice every day. Take out the oranges, and wipe them dry. Tie them up in separate cloths, and boil them four hours in a large kettle, changing the water once or twice. Peel off the rinds and pound them well in a marble mortar, with two pounds of fine sugar to one pound of orange. Then beat all together, and cover the jam down in a pot. ORANGE JELLY. Grate the rind of two Seville and two China oranges, and two lemons. Squeeze the juice of three of each, and strain it; add a quarter of a pound of lump sugar dissolved in a quarter of a pint of water, and boil it till it nearly candies. Prepare a quart of jelly, made of two ounces of isinglass; add to it the syrup, and boil it once up. Strain off the jelly, and let it stand to settle before it is put into the mould. ORANGE JUICE. When the fresh juice cannot be procured, a very useful article for fevers may be made in the following manner. Squeeze from the finest fruit, a pint of juice strained through fine muslin. Simmer it gently with three quarters of a pound of double-refined sugar twenty minutes, and when cold put it into small bottles. ORANGE MARMALADE. Rasp the oranges, cut out the pulp, then boil the rinds very tender, and beat them fine in a marble mortar. Boil three pounds of loaf sugar in a pint of water, skim it, and add a pound of the rind; boil it fast till the syrup is very thick, but stir it carefully. Then add a pint of the pulp and juice, the seeds having been removed, and a pint of apple liquor; boil it all gently about half an hour, until it is well jellied, and put it into small pots. Lemon marmalade may be made in the same way, and both of them are very good and elegant sweetmeats. ORANGE PEEL. Scrape out all the pulp, soak the peels in water, and stir them every day. In a week's time put them in fresh water, and repeat it till all the bitterness is extracted. Boil the peels in fresh water over a slow fire till they are quite tender, and reduce the liquor to a quantity sufficient to boil it to a thick syrup. Put the peels into the syrup, simmer them gently, take them out of the syrup, and let them cool. Lay them to dry in the sun, and the peel will be nicely candied. ORANGE PUDDING. Grate the rind of a Seville orange, put to it six ounces of fresh butter, and six or eight ounces of lump sugar pounded. Beat them all in a marble mortar, and add at the same time the whole of eight eggs well beaten and strained. Scrape a raw apple, and mix it with the rest. Put a paste round the bottom and sides of the dish, and over the orange mixture lay cross bars of paste. Half an hour will bake it.--Another. Mix two full spoonfuls of orange paste with six eggs, four ounces of fine sugar, and four ounces of warm butter. Put the whole into a shallow dish, with a paste lining, and bake it twenty minutes.--Another. Rather more than two table-spoonfuls of the orange paste, mixed with six eggs, four ounces of sugar, and four ounces of butter melted, will make a good pudding, with a paste at the bottom of the dish. Twenty minutes will bake it.--Or, boil the rind of a Seville orange very soft, and beat it up with the juice. Then add half a pound of butter, a quarter of a pound of sugar, two grated biscuits, and the yolks of six eggs. Mix all together, lay a puff paste round the edge of the dish, and bake it half an hour. ORANGE TART. Squeeze, pulp, and boil two Seville oranges quite tender. Weigh them, add double the quantity of sugar, and beat them together to a paste. Add the juice and pulp of the fruit, and a little bit of fresh butter the size of a walnut, and beat all together. Choose a very shallow dish, line it with a light puff-crust, lay the orange paste in it, and ice it over. Or line a tart pan with a thin puff-paste, and put into it orange marmalade made with apple jelly. Lay bars of paste, or a croquant cover over, and bake it in a moderate oven.--Another. Squeeze some Seville oranges into a dish, grate off the outside rind, throw the peel into water, and change it often for two days. Boil a saucepan of water, put in the oranges, and change the water three or four times to take out the bitterness: when they are quite tender, dry and beat them fine in a mortar. Take their weight in double refined sugar, boil it to a syrup, and skim it clean: then put in the pulp, and boil it till it is quite clear. Put it cold into the tarts, and the juice which was squeezed out, and bake them in a quick oven. Lemon tarts are made in the same way. ORANGE WINE. To six gallons of water put fifteen pounds of soft sugar: before it boils, add the whites of six eggs well beaten, and take off the scum as it rises. When cold, add the juice of fifty oranges, and two thirds of the peels cut very thin; and immerse a toast covered with yeast. In a month after it has been in the cask, add a pint of brandy, and two quarts of Rhenish wine. It will be fit to bottle in three or four months, but it should remain in bottles for twelve months before it is drunk. ORANGES. If intended to be kept for future use, the best way is to dry and bake some clean sand; and when it is cold, put it into a vessel. Place on it a layer of oranges or lemons with the stalk end downwards, so that they do not touch each other, and cover them with the sand two inches deep. This will keep them in a good state of preservation for several months. Another way is to freeze the fruit, and keep them in an ice-house. When used they are to be thawed in cold water, and will be good at any time of the year. If oranges or lemons are designed to be used for juice, they should first be pared to preserve the peel dry. Some should be halved, and when squeezed, the pulp cut out, and the outsides dried for grating. If for boiling in any liquid, the first way is the best. ORANGES CARVED. With a penknife cut on the rinds any shape you please, then cut off a piece near and round the stalk, and take all the pulp out carefully with an apple scoop. Put the rinds into salt and water two days, and change the water daily. Boil them an hour or more in fresh salt and water, and drain them quite dry. Let them stand a night in plain water, and then another night in a thin syrup, in which boil them the next day a few minutes. This must be repeated four days successively. Then let them stand six or seven weeks, observing often whether they keep well; otherwise the syrup must be boiled again. Then make a rich syrup for the oranges. ORANGES IN JELLY. Cut a hole in the stalk part, the size of a shilling, and with a blunt knife scrape out the pulp quite clear without cutting the rind. Tie each part separately in muslin, and lay them in spring water two days, changing the water twice a day. In the last water boil them over a slow fire till they are quite tender. Observe that there is enough at first to allow for wasting, as they must be kept covered till the last. To every pound of fruit, allow two pounds of double-refined sugar, and one pint of water. Boil the two latter, with the juice of the orange, till reduced to a syrup. Clarify it, skim it well, and let it stand to be cold. Then boil the fruit in the syrup half an hour; and if not clear, repeat it daily till they are done.--Lemons are preserved in a similar way. Pare and core some green pippins, and boil them in water till it is strongly flavoured with them. The fruit should not be broken, only gently pressed with the back of a spoon, and the water strained through a jelly bag till it is quite clear. To every pint of liquor put a pound of double-refined sugar, the peel and juice of a lemon, and boil the whole to a strong syrup. Drain off the syrup from the fruit, and turning each lemon with the hole upwards in the jar, pour the apple jelly over it. The bits cut out must undergo the same process with the fruit, and the whole covered down with brandy paper. ORANGES PRESERVED. To fill preserved oranges for a corner dish, take a pound of Naples biscuits, some blanched almonds, the yolks of four eggs beaten, four ounces of butter warmed, and sugar to taste. Grate the biscuits, mix them with the above, and some orange-flower water. Fill the preserved oranges, and bake them in a very slow oven. If to be frosted, sift some fine sugar over them, as soon as they are filled; otherwise they should be wiped. Or they may be filled with custard, and then the fruit need not be baked, but the custard should be put in cold. ORANGEADE. Squeeze out the juice of an orange, pour boiling water on a little of the peel, and cover it close. Boil water and sugar to a thin syrup, and skim it. When all are cold, mix the juice, the infusion, and the syrup, with as much more water as will make a rich sherbet. Strain the whole through a jelly bag; or squeeze the juice and strain it, and water and capillaire. ORCHARD. Fruit trees, whether in orchards, or espaliers, or against walls, require attention, in planting, pruning, or other management, almost every month in the year, to render them productive, and to preserve the fruit in a good state.--JANUARY. Cut out dead wood and irregular branches, clean the stumps and boughs from the moss with a hollow iron. Repair espaliers by fastening the stakes and poles with nails and wire, and tying the shoots down with twigs of osier. Put down some stakes by all the new-planted trees. Cut grafts to be ready, and lay them in the earth under a warm wall.--FEBRUARY. Most kinds of trees may be pruned this month, though it is generally better to do it in autumn; but whatever was omitted at that season, should be done now. The hardiest kinds are to be pruned first; and such as are more tender, at the latter end of the month, when there will be less danger of their suffering in the wounded part from the frost. Transplant fruit trees to places where they are wanted. Open a large hole, set the earth carefully about the roots, and nail them at once to the wall, or fasten them to strong stakes. Sow the kernels of apples and pears, and the stones of plums for stocks. Endeavour to keep off the birds that eat the buds of fruit trees at this season of the year.--MARCH. The grafts which were cut off early and laid in the ground, are now to be brought into use; the earliest kinds first, and the apples last of all. When this is done, take off the heads of the stocks that were inoculated the preceding year. A hand's breadth of the head should be left, for tying the bud securely to it, and that the sap may rise more freely for its nourishment. The fruit trees that were planted in October should also be headed, and cut down to about four eyes, that the sap may flow more freely.--APRIL. Examine the fruit trees against the walls and espaliers, take off all the shoots that project in front, and train such as rise kindly. Thin apricots upon the trees, for there are usually more than can ripen; and the sooner this is done, the better will the rest succeed. Water new-planted trees, plant the vine cuttings, and inspect the grown ones. Nip off improper shoots; and when two rise from the same eye, take off the weakest of them. Weed strawberry beds, cut off the strings, stir the earth between them, and water them once in two or three days. Dig up the borders near the fruit trees, and never plant any large kind of flowers or vegetables upon them. Any thing planted or sown near the trees, has a tendency to impoverish the fruit.--MAY. If any fresh shoots have sprouted upon the fruit trees, in espaliers, or against walls, take them off. Train the proper ones to the walls or poles, at due distances, and in a regular manner. Look over vines, and stop every shoot that has fruit upon it, to three eyes beyond the fruit. Then train the branches regularly to the wall, and let such as are designed for the next year's fruiting grow some time longer, as their leaves will afford a suitable shade to the fruit. Water the trees newly planted, keep the borders about the old ones clear, and pick off the snails and other vermin.--JUNE. Renew the operation of removing from wall trees and espaliers, all the shoots that project in front. Train proper branches to their situations, where they are wanted. Once more thin the wall fruit: leave the nectarines four inches apart, and the peaches five, but none nearer: the fruit will be finer, and the next year the tree will be stronger, if this precaution be adopted. Inoculate the apricots, and choose for this purpose a cloudy evening. Water trees lately planted, and pick up snails and vermin.--JULY. Inoculate peaches and nectarines, and take off all projecting shoots in espaliers and wall fruit-trees. Hang phials of honey and water upon fruit-trees, to protect them from the depredations of insects, and look carefully for snails, which also will destroy the fruit. Keep the borders clear from weeds, and stir the earth about the roots of the trees; this will hasten the ripening of the fruit. Examine the fruit trees that were grafted and budded the last season, to see that there are no shoots from the stocks. Whenever they rise, take them off, or they will deprive the intended growth of its nourishment. Attend to the trees lately planted, and water them often; and whatever good shoots they make, fasten them to the wall or espalier. Repeat the care of the vines, take off improper or irregular shoots, and nail up the loose branches. Let no weeds rise in the ground about them, for they will exhaust the nourishment, and impoverish the fruit.--AUGUST. Watch the fruit on the wall trees, and keep off the devourers, of which there will be numberless kinds swarming about them during this month. Send away the birds, pick up snails, and hang bottles of sweet water for flies and wasps. Fasten loose branches, and gather the fruit carefully as it ripens. Examine the vines all round, and remove those trailing branches which are produced so luxuriantly at this season of the year. Suffer not the fruit to be shaded by loose and unprofitable branches, and keep the ground clear of weeds, which otherwise will impoverish the fruit.--SEPTEMBER. The fruit must now be gathered carefully every day, and the best time for this purpose is an hour after sun-rise: such as is gathered in the middle of the day is always flabby and inferior. The fruit should afterwards be laid in a cool place till wanted. Grapes as they begin to ripen will be in continual danger from the birds, if not properly watched and guarded. Transplant gooseberries and currants, and plant strawberries and raspberries: they will then be rooted before winter, and flourish the succeeding season.--OCTOBER. It is a useful practice to prime the peach and nectarine trees, and also the vines, as it invigorates the buds in the spring of the year. Cut grapes for preserving, with a joint of the vine to each bunch. For winter keeping, gather fruits as they ripen. Transplant all garden trees for flowering, prune currant bushes, and preserve the stones of the fruit for sowing.--NOVEMBER. Stake up all trees planted for standards, or the winds will rock them at the bottom, and the frost will be let in and destroy them. Throw a good quantity of peas straw about them, and lay on it some brick bats or pebbles to keep it fast: this will mellow the ground, and keep the frost from the roots. Continue to prune wall fruit-trees, and prune also at this time the apple and pear kinds. Pull off the late fruit of figs, or it will decay the branches.--DECEMBER. Prepare for planting trees where they will be wanted in the spring, by digging the ground deep and turning it well, in the place intended for planting. Scatter over the borders some fresh mould and rotted dung, and in a mild day dig it in with a three-pronged fork. Look over the orchard trees, and cut away superfluous wood and dead branches. Let the boughs and shoots stand clear of each other, that the air may pass between, and the fruit will be better flavoured. This management is required for old trees: those that are newly planted are to be preserved by covering the ground about their roots. ORGEAT. Boil a quart of new milk with a stick of cinnamon, sweeten it to taste, and let it cool. Then pour it gradually over three ounces of almonds, and twenty bitter almonds that have been blanched and beaten to a paste, with a little water to prevent oiling. Boil all together, and stir it till cold, then add half a glass of brandy.--Another way. Blanch and pound three quarters of a pound of almonds, and thirty bitter ones, with a spoonful of water. Stir in by degrees two pints of water, and three pints of milk, and strain the whole through a cloth. Dissolve half a pound of fine sugar in a pint of water, boil and skim it well; mix it with the other, adding two spoonfuls of orange-flower water, and a teacupful of the best brandy. ORGEAT FOR THE SICK. Beat two ounces of almonds with a tea-spoonful of orange-flower water, and a bitter almond or two; then pour a quart of milk and water to the paste. Sweeten with sugar, or capillaire. This is a fine drink for those who feel a weakness in the chest. In the gout also it is highly useful, and with the addition of half an ounce of gum arabic, it has been found to allay the painfulness of the attendant heat. Half a glass of brandy may be added, if thought too cooling in the latter complaint, and the glass of orgeat may be put into a basin of warm water. ORTOLANS. Pick and singe, but do not draw them. Tie them on a bird spit, and roast them. Some persons like slices of bacon tied between them, but the taste of it spoils the flavour of the ortolan. Cover them with crumbs of bread. OX CHEEK. Soak half a head three hours, and clean it in plenty of water. Take off all the meat, and put it into a stewpan with an onion, a sprig of sweet herbs, pepper, salt, and allspice. Lay the bones on the top, pour on two or three quarts of water, and close it down. Let it stand eight or ten hours in a slow oven, or simmer it on a hot hearth. When tender skim off the fat, and put in celery, or any other vegetable. Slices of fried onion may be put into it a little before it is taken from the fire. OX CHEEK SOUP. Break the bones of the cheek, wash it clean, put it into a stewpan, with a piece of butter at the bottom. Add half a pound of lean ham sliced, one parsnip, two carrots, three onions, four heads of celery, cut small, and three blades of mace. Set it over a slow fire for a quarter of an hour, then add a gallon of water, and simmer it gently till reduced to half the quantity. If intended as soup only, strain it off, and put in a head of sliced celery, with a little browning, to give it a fine colour. Warm two ounces of vermicelli and put into it; boil it ten minutes, and pour it into a tureen, with the crust of a French roll. If to be used as stew, take up the cheek as whole as possible; put in a boiled carrot cut in small pieces, a slice of toasted bread, and some cayenne pepper. Strain the soup through a hair sieve upon the meat, and serve it up. OX FEET. These are very nutricious, in whatever way they are dressed. If to be eaten warm, boil them, and serve them up in a napkin. Melted butter for sauce, with mustard, and a large spoonful of vinegar. Or broil them very tender, and serve them as a brown fricassee. The liquor will do to make jelly sweet or relishing, and likewise to give richness to soups or gravies. They may also be fried, after being cut into four parts, dipped in egg, and properly floured. Fried onions may be served round the dish, with sauce as above. Or they may be baked for mock turtle. If to be eaten cold, they only require mustard, pepper, and vinegar.--Another way. Extract the bones from the feet, and boil the meat quite tender; then put it into a fryingpan with a little butter. After a few minutes, add some chopped mint and parsley, the yolks of two eggs beat up fine, half a pint of gravy, the juice of a lemon, and a little salt and nutmeg. Put the meat into a dish, and pour the sauce over it. OX FEET JELLY. Take a heel that has been only scalded, not boiled, slit it in two, and remove the fat from between the claws. Simmer it gently for eight hours in a quart of water, till reduced to a pint and half, and skim it clean while it is doing. This strong jelly is useful in making calves' feet jelly, or may be added to mock turtle, and other soups. OX PALATES. Boil them tender, blanch and scrape them. Rub them with pepper, salt, and bread, and fry them brown on both sides. Pour off the fat, put beef or mutton gravy into the stewpan for sauce, with an anchovy, a little lemon juice, grated nutmeg and salt. Thicken it with butter rolled in flour: when these have simmered a quarter of an hour, dish them up, and garnish with slices of lemon. OXFORD DUMPLINS. Mix together two ounces of grated bread, four ounces of currants, the same of shred suet, a bit of lump sugar, a little powdered pimento, and plenty of grated lemon peel. Add two eggs and a little milk; then divide the whole into five dumplins, and fry them of a fine yellow brown. Made with half the quantity of flour, instead of bread, they are very excellent. Serve them up with sweet sauce. OXFORD SAUSAGES. Chop a pound and a half of pork, and the same of veal, cleared of skin and sinews. Add three quarters of a pound of beef suet, mince and mix them together. Steep the crumb of a penny loaf in water, and mix it with the meat; add also a little dried sage, pepper and salt. OYSTER LOAVES. Open a quart of fresh oysters, wash and stew them in their own liquor, with two anchovies, a bunch of sweet herbs, a blade of mace, and a bit of lemon peel. Drain off the liquor, boil up a quarter of a pound of butter till it turns brown; add half a spoonful of flour, and boil it up again. Put in some of the oyster liquor, with a little gravy, white wine, mace, nutmeg, a few cloves, and a small piece of shalot. Stew all together till it becomes as thick as cream; then put in the oysters, and stew them a few minutes. Fry some bread crumbs in butter or sweet dripping till they are crisp and brown, drain them well, put in the oysters, and dish them up.--Another. Open the oysters, and save the liquor; wash them in it, and strain it through a sieve. Put a little of the liquor into a tosser, with a bit of butter and flour, white pepper, a scrape of nutmeg, and a little cream. Stew the oysters in the liquor, cut them into dice, and then put them into rolls sold for the purpose. OYSTER PATTIES. Put a fine puff-crust into small pattipans, and cover with paste, with a bit of bread in each. While they are baking, take off the beard of the oysters, cut the oysters small, put them in a small tosser, with a dust of grated nutmeg, white pepper and salt, a taste of lemon peel, shred as fine as possible, a spoonful of cream, and a little of the oyster liquor. Simmer them together a few minutes, and fill the pattipans as soon as they are baked, first taking out the bread. A bread crust should be put into all patties, to keep them hollow while baking. OYSTER PIE. Open the oysters, take off the beards, parboil the oysters, and strain off the liquor. Parboil some sweetbreads, cut them in slices, place them in layers with the oysters, and season very lightly with salt, pepper and mace. Then add half a teacup of liquor, and the same of gravy. Bake in a slow oven; and before the pie is sent to table, put in a teacup of cream, a little more oyster liquor, and a cup of white gravy, all warmed together, but not boiled. OYSTER SAUCE. Save the liquor in opening the oysters, boil it with the beards, a bit of mace and lemon peel. In the mean time, throw the oysters into cold water, and drain it off. Strain the liquor, put it into a saucepan with the oysters, and as much butter, mixed with a little milk, as will make sauce enough; but first rub a little flour with it. Set them over the fire, and keep stirring all the time. When the butter has boiled once or twice, take them off, and keep the saucepan near the fire, but not on it; for if done too much, the oysters will be hard. Squeeze in a little lemon juice, and serve it up. If for company, a little cream is a great improvement. Observe, the oysters will thin the sauce, and therefore allow butter accordingly. OYSTER SOUP. Beat the yolks of ten hard eggs, and the hard part of two quarts of oysters, in a mortar, and put them to two quarts of fish stock. Simmer all together for half an hour, and strain it off. Having cleared the oysters of the beards, and washed them well, put them into the soup, and let it simmer five minutes. Beat up the yolks of six raw eggs, and add them to the soup. Stir it all well together one way, by the side of the fire, till it is thick and smooth, but do not let it boil. Serve up all together. OYSTER MOUTH SOUP. Make a rich mutton broth, with two large onions, three blades of mace, and a little black pepper. When strained, pour it on a hundred and fifty oysters, without the beards, and a bit of butter rolled in flour. Simmer it gently a quarter of an hour, and serve up the soup. OYSTERS. Of the several kinds of oysters, the Pyfleet, Colchester, and Milford, are much the best. The native Milton are fine, being white and fleshy; but others may be made to possess both these qualities in some degree, by proper feeding. Colchester oysters come to market early in August, the Milton in October, and are in the highest perfection about Christmas, but continue in season till the middle of May. When alive and good, the shell closes on the knife; but if an oyster opens its mouth, it will soon be good for nothing. Oysters should be eaten the minute they are opened, with their own liquor in the under shell, or the delicious flavour will be lost. The rock oyster is the largest, but if eaten raw it tastes coarse and brackish, but may be improved by feeding. In order to do this, cover the oysters with clean water, and allow a pint of salt to about two gallons; this will cleanse them from the mud and sand contracted in the bed. After they have lain twelve hours, change it for fresh salt and water; and in twelve hours more they will be fit to eat, and will continue in a good state for two or three days. At the time of high water in the place from whence they were taken, they will open their shells, in expectation of receiving their usual food. The real Colchester or Pyfleet barrelled oysters, that are packed at the beds, are better without being put into water; they are carefully and tightly packed, and must not be disturbed till wanted for the table. In temperate weather these will keep good for a week or ten days. To preserve barrelled oysters however, the best way is to remove the upper hoop, so that the head may fall down upon the oysters, and then to place a weight upon it. This will compress the oysters, keep in the liquor, and preserve them for several days. P. PAIN IN THE EAR. This complaint is sometimes so prevalent as to resemble an epidemic, particularly amongst children. The most effectual remedy yet discovered has been a clove of garlic, steeped for a few minutes in warm sallad oil, and put into the ear, rolled up in muslin or fine linen. When the garlic has accomplished its object, and is removed from the ear, it should be replaced with cotton, to prevent the patient taking cold. PAINT. Painted doors and windows may be made to look well for a considerable time, if properly cleaned. A cloth should never be used, for it leaves some lint behind; but take off the dust with a painter's brush, or a pair of bellows. When the painting is soiled or stained, dip a sponge or a bit of flannel in soda water, wash it off quickly, and dry it immediately, or the strength of the soda will eat off the colour. When wainscot requires scouring, it should be done from the top downwards, and the soda be prevented from running on the uncleaned part as much as possible, or marks will appear after the whole is finished. One person should dry the board with old linen, as fast as the other has scoured off the dirt, and washed away the soda. PAINT FOR IRON. For preserving palisadoes and other kinds of iron work exposed to the weather, heat some common litharge in a shovel over the fire. Then scatter over it a small quantity of sulphur, and grind it in oil. This lead will reduce it to a good lead colour, which will dry very quickly, get remarkably hard, and resist the weather better than any other common paint. PAINTINGS. Oil paintings frequently become smoked or dirty, and in order to their being properly cleaned, require to be treated with the greatest care. Dissolve a little common salt in some stale urine, dip a woollen cloth in the liquid, and rub the paintings over with it till they are quite clean. Then wash them with a sponge and clean water, dry them gradually, and rub them over with a clean cloth. PALING PRESERVED. The following cheap and valuable composition will preserve all sorts of wood work exposed to the vicissitudes of the weather. Take some well-burnt lime, and expose it to the air till it falls to powder, without putting any water to it, and mix with it two thirds of wood ashes, and one third of fine sand. Sift the whole through a fine sieve, and work it up with linseed oil to the consistence of common paint, taking care to grind it fine, and mix it well together. The composition may be improved by the addition of an equal quantity of coal tar with the linseed oil; and two coats of it laid on any kind of weather boards, will be found superior to any kind of paint used for that purpose. PALPITATION OF THE HEART. Persons of a full habit may find relief in bleeding; but where it is accompanied with nervous affections, as is generally the case, bleeding must by all means be avoided. Frequent bathing the feet in warm water, a stimulating plaster applied to the left side, and gentle exercise, are the most proper. PALSY. The luxurious, the sedentary, and those who have suffered great anxiety and distress of mind, are the most subject to this disorder, which generally attacks the left side, and is attended with numbness and drowsiness. The parts affected ought to be frequently rubbed with a flesh brush, or with the hand. Blisters, warm plasters, volatile liniments, and electricity should likewise be employed. The following electuary is also recommended. Mix an ounce of flour of mustard, and an ounce of the conserve of roses, in some syrup of ginger; and take a tea-spoonful of it three or four times a day. PANADA. To make panada in five minutes, set a little water on the fire with a glass of white wine, some sugar, and a scrape of nutmeg and lemon peel, grating meanwhile some crumbs of bread. The moment the mixture boils up, keeping it still on the fire, put in the crumbs, and let it boil as fast as it can. When of a proper thickness just to drink, take it off.--Another way. Make the panada as above, but instead of a glass of wine, put in a tea-spoonful of rum, a little butter and sugar. This makes a very pleasant article for the sick.--Another. Put into the water a bit of lemon peel, and mix in the crumbs: when nearly boiled enough, add some lemon or orange syrup. Observe to boil all the ingredients; for if any be added after, the panada will break, and not turn to jelly. PANCAKES. Make a light batter of eggs, flour, and milk. Fry it in a small pan, in hot dripping or lard. Salt, nutmeg, or ginger, may be added. Sugar and lemon should be served, to eat with them. When eggs are very scarce, the batter may be made of flour and small beer, with the addition of a little ginger; or clean snow, with flour, and a very little milk, will serve instead of egg. Fine pancakes, fried without butter or lard, are made as follows. Beat six fresh eggs extremely well, strain and mix them with a pint of cream, four ounces of sugar, a glass of wine, half a nutmeg grated, and as much flour as will make it almost as thick as ordinary pancake batter, but not quite. Heat the fryingpan tolerably hot, wipe it with a clean cloth, and pour in the batter so as to make the pancakes thin.--New England pancakes are made of a pint of cream, mixed with five spoonfuls of fine flour, seven yolks and four whites of eggs, and a very little salt. They are then fried very thin in fresh butter, and sent to table six or eight at once, with sugar and cinnamon strewed between them.--Another way to make cream pancakes. Stir a pint of cream gradually into three spoonfuls of flour, and beat them very smooth. Add to this six eggs, half a pound of melted butter, and a little sugar. These pancakes will fry from their own richness, without either butter or lard. Run the batter over the pan as thin as possible, and when the pancakes are just coloured they are done enough. PAP BREAD. To prepare a light nourishing food for young children, pour scalding water on some thin slices of good white bread, and let it stand uncovered till it cools. Then drain off the water, bruise the bread fine, and mix it with as much new milk as will make a pap of a moderate thickness. It will be warm enough for use, without setting it on the fire. It is common to add sugar, but the pap is better without it, as is almost all food intended for children; and the taste will not require it, till habit makes it familiar. PAPER. All sorts of paper improve by keeping, if laid in a dry place, and preserved from mould and damp. It is bought much cheaper by the ream, than by the quire. The expense of this article is chiefly occasioned by the enormous duty laid upon it, and the necessity of importing foreign rags to supply the consumption. If more care were taken in families generally, to preserve the rags and cuttings of linen from being wasted, there would be less need of foreign imports, and paper might be manufactured a little cheaper. PAPER HANGINGS. To clean these properly, first blow off the dust with the bellows, and then wipe the paper downwards in the slightest manner with the crumb of a stale white loaf. Do not cross the paper, nor go upwards, but begin at the top, and the dirt of the paper and the crumbs will fall together. Observe not to wipe more than half a yard at a stroke, and after doing all the upper part, go round again, beginning a little above where you left off. If it be not done very lightly, the dirt will adhere to the paper; but if properly attended to, the paper will look fresh and new. PAPER PASTE. To make a strong paste for paper, take two large spoonfuls of fine flour, and as much pounded rosin as will lie upon a shilling. Mix them up with as much strong beer as will make the paste of a due consistence, and boil it half an hour. It is best used cold. PARSLEY. To preserve parsley through the winter, gather some fine fresh sprigs in May, June, or July. Pick and wash them clean, set on a stewpan half full of water, put a little salt in it, boil and scum it clean. Then add the parsley, let it boil for two minutes, and take it out and lay it on a sieve before the fire, that it may be dried as quick as possible. Put it by in a tin box, and keep it in a dry place. When wanted, lay it in a basin, and cover it with warm water for a few minutes before you use it. PARSLEY AND BUTTER. Wash some parsley very clean, and pick it carefully leaf by leaf. Put a tea-spoonful of salt into half a pint of boiling water, boil the parsley in it about ten minutes, drain it on a sieve, mince it quite fine, and then, bruise it to a pulp. Put it into a sauce boat, and mix with it by degrees about half a pint of good melted butter, only do not put so much flour to it, as the parsley will be sure to add to its thickness. Parsley and butter should not be poured over boiled dishes, but be sent up in a boat. The delicacy of this elegant and innocent relish, depends upon the parsley being minced very fine. With the addition of a slice of lemon cut into dice, a little allspice and vinegar, it is made into Dutch sauce. PARSLEY PIE. Lay a fowl, or a few bones of the scrag of veal, seasoned, into a dish. Scald a cullenderful of picked parsley in milk; season it, and add it to the fowl or meat, with a tea-cupful of any sort of good broth or gravy. When baked, pour into it a quarter of a pint of cream scalded, with a little bit of butter and flour. Shake it round, and mix it with the gravy in the dish. Lettuces, white mustard leaves, or spinach, well scalded, may be added to the parsley. PARSLEY SAUCE. When no parsley leaves are to be had, tie up a little parsley seed in a piece of clean muslin, and boil it in water ten minutes. Use this water to melt the butter, and throw into it a little boiled spinach minced, to look like parsley. PARSNIPS. Carrots and parsnips, when laid up for the winter, should have the tops cut off close, be cleared of the rough earth, and kept in a dry place. Lay a bed of dry sand on the floor, two or three inches thick, put the roots upon it close together, with the top of one to the bottom of the next, and so on. Cover the first layer with sand two inches thick, and then place another layer of roots, and go on thus till the whole store are laid up. Cover the heap with dry straw, laid on tolerably thick. Beet roots, salsify, Hamburgh parsley roots, horseradish, and turnips, should all be laid up in the same manner, as a supply against frosty weather, when they cannot be got out of the ground. PARSNIPS BOILED. These require to be done very tender, and may be served whole with melted butter, or beaten smooth in a bowl, warmed up with a little cream, butter, flour, and salt. Parsnips are highly nutricious, and make an agreeable sauce to salt fish. PARSNIPS FRICASSEED. Boil them in milk till they are soft. Then cut them lengthways into bits, two or three inches long, and simmer them in a white sauce, made of two spoonfuls of broth. Add a bit of mace, half a cupful of cream, a little flour and butter, pepper and salt. PARSNIP WINE. To twelve pounds of sliced parsnips, add four gallons of water, and boil them till they become soft. Squeeze the liquor well out of them, run it through a sieve, and add to every gallon three pounds of lump sugar. Boil the whole three quarters of an hour, and when it is nearly cold, add a little yeast. Let it stand in a tub for ten days, stirring it from the bottom every day, and then put it into a cask for twelve months. As it works over, fill it up every day. PARTRIDGE BOILED. This species of game is in season in the autumn. If the birds be young, the bill is of a dark colour, and the legs inclined to yellow. When fresh and good, the vent will be firm; but when stale, this part will look greenish. Boiled partridges require to be trussed the same as chickens: from twenty to twenty-five minutes will do them sufficiently. Serve them up with either white or brown mushroom sauce, or with rice stewed in gravy, made pretty thick, and seasoned with pepper and salt. Pour the sauce over them, or serve them up with celery sauce. A boiled pheasant is dressed in the same manner, allowing three quarters of an hour for the cooking. PARTRIDGE PIE. Pick and singe four partridges, cut off the legs at the knee, season with pepper, salt, chopped parsley, thyme, and mushrooms. Lay a veal steak and a slice of ham at the bottom of the dish, put in the partridge, and half a pint of good broth. Lay puff paste on the edge of the dish, and cover with the same; brush it over with egg, and bake it an hour. PARTRIDGE SOUP. Skin two old partridges, and cut them into pieces, with three or four slices of ham, a stick of celery, and three large onions sliced. Fry them all in butter till brown, but take care not to burn them. Then put them into a stewpan, with five pints of boiling water, a few peppercorns, a shank or two of mutton, and a little salt. Stew it gently two hours, strain it through a sieve, and put it again into a stewpan, with some stewed celery and fried bread. When it is near boiling, skim it, pour it into a tureen, and send it up hot. PASTE PUDDINGS. Make a paste of butter and flour, roll it out thin, and spread any kind of jam, or currants over it, with some suet chopped fine. Roll it up together, close the paste at both ends, and boil it in a cloth. PASTRY. An adept in pastry never leaves any part of it adhering to the board or dish, used in making it. It is best when rolled on marble, or a very large slate. In very hot weather, the butter should be put into cold water to make it as firm as possible; and if made early in the morning, and preserved from the air until it is to be baked, the pastry will be found much better. An expert hand will use much less butter and produce lighter crust than others. Good salt butter well washed, will make a fine flaky crust. When preserved fruits are used in pastry, they should not be baked long; and those that have been done with their full proportion of sugar, require no baking at all. The crust should be baked in a tin shape, and the fruit be added afterwards; or it may be put into a small dish or tart pans, and the covers be baked on a tin cut out into any form. PATTIES. Slice some chicken, turkey, or veal, with dressed ham, or sirloin of beef. Add some parsley, thyme, and lemon peel, chopped very fine. Pound all together in a mortar, and season with salt and white pepper. Line the pattipans with puff paste, fill them with meat, lay on the paste, close the edges, cut the paste round, brush it over with egg, and bake the patties twenty minutes. PAVEMENTS. For cleaning stone stairs, and hall pavements, boil together half a pint each of size and stone-blue water, with two table-spoonfuls of whiting, and two cakes of pipe-clay, in about two quarts of water.--Wash the stones over with a flannel slightly wetted in this mixture; and when dry, rub them with a flannel and brush. PAYMENT OF RENT. Rent due for tenements let from year to year, is commonly paid on the four quarter days; and when the payments are regularly made at the quarter, the tenant cannot be deprived of possession at any other time than at the end of a complete year from the commencement of his tenancy. If therefore he took possession at Midsummer, he must quit at Midsummer, and notice thereof must be sent at or before the preceding Christmas. A similar notice is also required from the tenant to the landlord, when it is intended to leave the premises.--Every quarter's rent is deemed a separate debt, for which the landlord can bring a separate action, or distress for nonpayment. The landlord himself is the proper person to demand rent: if he employs another person, he must be duly authorised by power of attorney, clearly specifying the person from whom, and the premises for which the rent is due: or the demand will be insufficient, if the tenant should be inclined to evade payment. The following is the form of a receipt for rent:--'Received of R. C. February 13, 1823, the sum of ten pounds twelve shillings for a quarter's rent, due at Christmas last.' '£10 12 0 J. W. M.' PEA FOWL. These require to be fed the same as turkeys. They are generally so shy, that they are seldom to be found for some days after hatching; and it is very wrong to pursue them, as many ignorant people do, under the idea of bringing them home. It only causes the hen to carry the young ones through dangerous places, and by hurrying she is apt to tread upon them. The cock bird kills all the young chickens he can get at, by one blow on the centre of the head with his bill, and he does the same by his own brood, before the feathers of the crown come out. Nature therefore directs the hen to hide and keep them out of his way, till the feathers rise. PEA POWDER. Pound together in a marble mortar half an ounce each of dried mint and sage, a dram of celery seed, and a quarter of a dram of cayenne, and rub them through a fine sieve. This gives a very savoury relish to pea soup, and to water gruel. A dram of allspice, or black pepper, may be pounded with the above, as an addition, or instead of the cayenne. PEACH WINE. Take peaches, apricots, and nectarines, when they are full of juice, pare them, and take out the stones. Then slice them thin, pour over them from one to two gallons of water, and a quart of white wine. Simmer the whole gently for a considerable time, till the sliced fruit becomes soft. Pour off the liquid part into another vessel, containing more peaches that have been sliced but not heated; let them stand for twelve hours, then pour out the liquid part, and press what remains through a fine hair bag. Let the whole be now put into a cask to ferment, and add a pound and a half of loaf sugar to each gallon. Boil an ounce of beaten cloves in a quart of white wine, and put it into the cask; the morella wine will have a delicious flavour. Wine may be made of apricots by only bruising, and pouring the hot water upon them: this wine does not require so much sweetening. To give it a curious flavour, boil an ounce of mace, and half an ounce of nutmegs, in a quart of white wine; and when the wine is fermenting, pour the liquid in hot. In about twenty days or a month, these wines will be fit for bottling. PEARL BARLEY PUDDING. Cleanse a pound of pearl barley, and put to it three quarts of milk, half a pound of sugar, and a grated nutmeg. Bake it in a deep pan, take it out of the oven, and beat up six eggs with it. Then butter a dish, pour in the pudding, and bake it again an hour. PEARLS. To make artificial pearls, take the blay or bleak fish, which is very common in the rivers near London, and scrape off the fine silvery scales from the belly. Wash and rub them in water; let the water settle, and a sediment will be found of an oily consistence. A little of this is to be dropped into a hollow glass bead of a bluish tint, and shaken about, so as to cover all the internal surface. After this the bead is filled up with melted white wax, to give it weight and solidity. PEARS. Large ones, when intended to be kept, should be tied and hung up by the stalk. PEAS. Young green peas, well dressed, are one of the greatest delicacies of the vegetable kingdom. They must be quite young; it is equally indispensable that they be fresh gathered, and cooked as soon as they are shelled, for they soon lose both their colour and sweetness. Of course they should never be purchased ready shelled. To have them in perfection, they must be gathered the same day that they are dressed, and be put on to boil within half an hour after they are shelled. As large and small peas cannot be boiled together, the small ones should be separated from the rest, by being passed through a riddle or coarse sieve. For a peck of young peas, which will not be more than sufficient for two or three persons, after they are shelled, set on a saucepan with a gallon of water. When it boils, put in the peas with a table-spoonful of salt. Skim it well, keep them quickly boiling from twenty to thirty minutes, according to their age and size. To judge whether they are done enough, take some out with a spoon and taste them, but be careful not to boil them beyond the point of perfection. When slightly indented, and done enough, drain them on a hair sieve. Put them into a pie dish, and lay some small bits of butter on the peas; put another dish over them, and turn them over and over, in order to diffuse the butter equally among them. Or send them to table plain from the saucepan, with melted butter in a sauce tureen. Garnish the dish with a few sprigs of mint, boiled by themselves. PEAS AND BACON. Cut a piece of nice streaked bacon, lay it in water to take out some of the salt, and boil it with some dried peas, in a little water. Add two carrots or parsnips, two onions, and a bunch of sweet herbs. When the peas are done enough, pulp them through a cullender or sieve, and serve them over the bacon. PEAS CULTIVATED. Instead of sowing peas in straight rows, they should be formed into circles of three or four feet diameter, with a space of two feet between each circle. By this means they will blossom nearer the ground, than when enclosed in long rows, and will ripen much sooner. Or if set in straight rows, a bed of ten or twelve feet wide should be left between, for onions and carrots, or any crops which do not grow tall. The peas will not be drawn up so much, but will grow stronger, and be more productive. Scarlet beans should be treated in the same manner. PEAS AND PORK. Two pounds of the belly part of pickled pork will make very good broth for peas soup, if the pork be not too salt. If it has been in salt several days, it must be laid in water the night before it is used. Put on three quarts of soft water, or liquor in which meat has been boiled, with a quart of peas, and let it boil gently for two hours. Then put in the pork, and let it simmer for an hour or more, till it is quite tender. When done, wash the pork clean in hot water, send it up in a dish, or cut into small pieces and put with the soup into the tureen. PEAS PORRIDGE. Boil the peas, and pulp them through a cullender. Heat them up in a saucepan with some butter, chopped parsley and chives, and season with pepper and salt. PEAS PUDDING. Soak the peas an hour or two before they are boiled; and when nearly done, beat them up with salt and pepper, an egg, and a bit of butter. Tie it up in a cloth, and boil it half an hour. PEAS SOUP. Save the liquor of boiled pork or beef: if too salt, dilute it with water, or use fresh water only, adding the bones of roast beef, a ham or gammon bone, or an anchovy or two. Simmer these with some good whole or split peas; the smaller the quantity of water at first the better. Continue to simmer till the peas will pulp through a cullender; then set on the pulp to stew, with more of the liquor that boiled the peas, two carrots, a turnip, a leek, and a stick of chopped celery, till all is quite tender. The last requires less time, an hour will do it. When ready, put into a tureen some fried bread cut into dice, dried mint rubbed fine, pepper and salt if needed, and pour in the soup. When there is plenty of vegetables, no meat is necessary; but if meat be preferred, a pig's foot or ham bone may be boiled with the peas, which is called the stock. More butter than is above mentioned will be necessary, if the soup is required to be very rich. PENCIL DRAWINGS. To prevent chalk or pencil drawings from rubbing out, it is only necessary to lay them on the surface of some skim milk, free from cream and grease; and then taking off the drawing expeditiously, and hanging it up by one corner to dry. A thin wash of isinglass will also answer the same purpose. PEPPER POT. To three quarts of water, put any approved vegetables; in summer, peas, lettuce, spinach, and two or three onions; in winter, carrot, turnip, onions, and celery. Cut them very small, and stew them with two pounds of neck of mutton, and a pound of pickled pork. Half an hour before serving, clear a lobster or crab from the shell, and put it into the stew, adding a little salt and cayenne. Some people choose very small suet dumplings, boiled in the above, or fowl may be used instead of mutton. A pepper pot may indeed be made of various things, and is understood to consist of a proper mixture of fish, flesh, fowl, vegetables, and pulse. A small quantity of rice should be boiled with the whole. PEPPERMINT DROPS. Pound and sift four ounces of double-refined sugar, and beat it with the whites of two eggs till perfectly smooth. Then add sixty drops of oil of peppermint; beat it well, drop it on white paper, and dry it at a distance from the fire. PERCH. When of a good size, as in Holland, they are a remarkably fine fresh-water fish, though not so delicate as carp or tench. Clean them carefully, and if to be boiled, put them into a fish-kettle, with as much cold spring water as will cover them, and add a handful of salt. Set them on a quick fire till they boil, and then place them on one side to boil gently for about ten minutes, according to their size. If to be fried, wipe them on a dry cloth, after they have been well cleaned and washed, and flour them lightly all over. Fry them about ten minutes in hot lard or dripping, lay them on a hair sieve to drain, and send them up on a hot dish. Garnish with sprigs of green parsley, and serve them with anchovy sauce. PERFUMERY. Oil of lavender and other essences are frequently adulterated with a mixture of the oil of turpentine, which may be discovered by dipping a piece of paper or rag into the oil to be tried, and holding it to the fire. The fine scented oil will quickly evaporate, and leave the smell of the turpentine distinguishable, if the essence has been adulterated with this ingredient. PERMANENT INK. This useful article for marking linen is composed of nitrate of silver, or lunar caustic, and the tincture or infusion of galls; in the proportion of one dram of the former in a dry state, to two drams of the latter. The linen, cotton, or other fabric, must be first wetted with the following liquid; namely, an ounce of the salt of tartar, dissolved in an ounce and a half of water; and must be perfectly dry before any attempt is made to write upon it. PETTITOES. Boil them very gently in a small quantity of water, along with the liver and the heart. Then cut the meat fine, split the feet, and simmer them till they are quite tender. Thicken with a bit of butter, a little flour, a spoonful of cream, and a little pepper and salt. Give it a boil up, pour the liquor over a sippets of bread, and place the feet on the mince. PEWTER AND TIN. Dish covers and pewter requisites should be wiped dry immediately after being used, and kept free from steam or damp, which would prevent much of the trouble in cleaning them. Where the polish is gone off, let the articles be first rubbed on the outside with a little sweet oil laid on a piece of soft linen cloth. Then clear it off with pure whitening on linen cloths, which will restore the polish. PHEASANTS. The cock bird is reckoned the best, except when the hen is with egg. If young, its spurs are short and blunt; but if old, they are long and sharp. A large pheasant will require three quarters of an hour to boil; if small, half an hour. If for roasting, it should be done the same as a turkey. Serve it up with a fine gravy, including a very small piece of garlic, and bread sauce or fried bread crumbs instead. When cold the meat may be made into excellent patties, but its flavour should not be overpowered with lemon. For the manner of trussing a pheasant or partridge, see Plate. PHOSPHORIC MATCH BOTTLE. Two thirds of calcined oyster shells, and one third of sulphur, put into a hot crucible for an hour, and afterwards exposed to the air for half an hour, become phosphorus. This is put into a bottle, and when used to procure a light, a very small quantity is taken out on the point of a common match, and rubbed upon a cork, which produces an immediate flame. If a small piece of phosphorus be put into a vial, and a little boiling oil poured upon it, a luminous bottle will be formed; for on taking out the cork, to admit the atmospheric air, the empty space in the vial will become luminous; and if the bottle be well closed, it will preserve its illuminative power for several months. PICKLE. For hams, tongues, or beef, a pickle may be made that will keep for years, if boiled and skimmed as often as it is used. Provide a deep earthen glazed pan that will hold four gallons, having a cover that will fit close. Put into it two gallons of spring water, two pounds of coarse sugar, two pounds of bay salt, two pounds and a half of common salt, and half a pound of salt petre. Keep the beef or hams as long as they will bear, before they are put into the pickle; sprinkle them with coarse sugar in a pan, and let them drain. Then rub them well with the pickle, and pack them in close, putting as much as the pan will hold, so that the pickle may cover them. The pickle is not to be boiled at first. A small ham may be fourteen days, a large one three weeks, a tongue twelve days, and beef in proportion to its size. They will eat well out of the pickle without drying. When they are to be dried, let each be drained over the pan; and when it will drop no longer, take a clean sponge and dry it thoroughly. Six or eight hours will smoke them, and there should be only a little saw-dust and wet straw used for this purpose; but if put into a baker's chimney, they should be sown up in a coarse cloth, and hang a week. PICKLES. The free or frequent use of pickles is by no means to be recommended, where any regard is paid to health. In general they are the mere vehicles for taking a certain portion of vinegar and spice, and in the crisp state in which they are most admired are often indigestible, and of course pernicious. The pickle made to preserve cucumbers and mangoes, is generally so strongly impregnated with garlic, mustard, and spice, that the original flavour of the vegetable, is quite overpowered, and the vegetable itself becomes the mere absorbent of these foreign ingredients. But if pickles must still be regarded for the sake of the palate, whatever becomes of the stomach, it will be necessary to watch carefully the proper season for gathering and preparing the various articles intended to be preserved. Frequently it happens, after the first week that walnuts come in season, that they become hard and shelled, especially if the weather be hot and dry; it is therefore necessary to purchase them as soon as they first appear at market; or in the course of a few months after being pickled, the nuts may be found incased in an impenetrable shell. The middle of July is generally the proper time to look for green walnuts. Nasturtiums are to be had about the same. Garlic and shalots, from Midsummer to Michaelmas. Onions of various kinds for pickling, are in season by the middle of July, and for a month after. Gherkins, cucumbers, melons, and mangoes, are to be had by the middle of July, and for a month after. Green, red, and yellow capsicums, the end of July, and following month. Chilies, tomatas, cauliflowers, and artichokes, towards the end of July, and throughout August. Jerusalem artichokes for pickling, July and August, and for three months after. French beans and radish pods, in July. Mushrooms, for pickling and for ketchup, in September. Red cabbage, and samphire, in August. White cabbage, in September and October. Horseradish, November and December.--Pickles, when put down, require to be kept with great care, closely covered. When wanted for use they should be taken out of the jar with a wooden spoon, pierced with holes, the use of metal in this case being highly improper. Pickles should be well kept from the air, and seldom opened. Small jars should be kept for those more frequently in use, that what is not eaten may be returned into the jar, and the top kept closely covered. In preparing vinegar for pickles, it should not be boiled in metal saucepans, but in a stone jar, on a hot hearth, as the acid will dissolve or corrode the metal, and infuse into the pickle an unwholesome ingredient. For the same reason pickles should never be put into glazed jars, as salt and vinegar will penetrate the glaze, and render it poisonous. PICKLED ASPARAGUS. Cut some asparagus, and lay it in an earthen pot. Make a brine of salt and water, strong enough to bear an egg; pour it hot on the asparagus, and let it be closely covered. When it is to be used, lay it for two hours in cold water; boil and serve it up on a toast, with melted butter over it. If to be used as a pickle, boil it as it comes out of the brine, and lay it in vinegar. PICKLED BACON. For two tolerable flitches, dry a stone of salt over the fire, till it is scalding hot. Beat fine two ounces of saltpetre, and two pounds of bay salt well dried, and mix them with some of the heated salt. Rub the bacon first with that, and then with the rest; put it into a tub, and keep it close from the air. PICKLED BEET ROOT. Boil the roots till three parts done, or set them into a cool oven till they are softened. Cut them into slices of an inch thick, cover them with vinegar, adding some allspice, a few cloves, a little mace, black pepper, horseradish sliced, some onions, shalots, a little pounded ginger, and some salt. Boil these ingredients together twenty minutes, and when cold, add to them a little bruised cochineal. Put the slices of beet into jars, pour the pickle upon them, and tie the jars down close. PICKLED CABBAGE. Slice a hard red cabbage into a cullender, and sprinkle each layer with salt. Let it drain two days, then put it into a jar, cover it with boiling vinegar, and add a few slices of red beet-root. The purple red cabbage makes the finest colour. Those who like the flavour of spice, will boil some with the vinegar. Cauliflower cut in branches, and thrown in after being salted, will look of a beautiful red. PICKLED CARROTS. Half boil some middle sized yellowish carrots, cut them into any shape, and let them cool. Take as much vinegar as will cover them, boil it with a little salt, and a pennyworth of saffron tied in a piece of muslin. Put the carrots into a jar; when the pickle is cold, pour it upon them, and cover the jar close. Let it stand all night, then pour off the pickle, and boil it with Jamaica pepper, mace, cloves, and a little salt. When cold, pour it upon the carrots, and tie them up for use. PICKLED CUCUMBERS. Cut them into thick slices, and sprinkle salt over them. Next day drain them for five or six hours, then put them into a stone jar, pour boiling vinegar over them, and keep them in a warm place. Repeat the boiling vinegar, and stop them up again instantly, and so on till quite green. Then add peppercorns and ginger, and keep them in small stone jars. Cucumbers are best pickled with sliced onions. PICKLED GHERKINS. Select some sound young cucumbers, spread them on dishes, salt and let them lie a week. Drain and put them in a jar, pouring boiling vinegar over them. Set them near the fire, covered with plenty of vine leaves. If they do not come to a tolerably good green, pour the vinegar into another jar, set it on a hot hearth, and when the vinegar boils, pour it over them again, and cover them with fresh leaves. Repeat this operation as often as is necessary, to bring the pickle to a good colour. Too many persons have made pickles of a very fine green, by using brass or bellmetal kettles; but as this is highly poisonous, the practice ought never to be attempted. PICKLED HAM. After it has been a week in the pickle, boil a pint of vinegar, with two ounces of bay salt. Pour it hot on the ham, and baste it every day; it may then remain in the brine two or three weeks. PICKLED HERRING. Procure them as fresh as possible, split them open, take off the heads, and trim off all the thin parts. Put them into salt and water for one hour, drain and wipe the fish, and put them into jars, with the following preparation, which is enough for six dozen herrings. Take salt and bay salt one pound each, saltpetre and lump sugar two ounces each, and powder and mix the whole together. Put a layer of the mixture at the bottom of the jar, then a layer of fish with the skin side downwards; so continue alternately till the jar is full. Press it down, and cover it close: in two or three months they will be fit for use. PICKLED LEMONS. They should be small, and with thick rinds. Rub them with a piece of flannel, and slit them half down in four quarters, but not through to the pulp. Fill the openings with salt hard pressed in, set them upright in a pan for four or five days, until the salt melts, and turn them thrice a day in their own liquor till quite tender. Make enough pickle to cover them, of rape vinegar, the brine of the lemons, peppercorns, and ginger. Boil and skim it; when cold put it to the lemons, with two ounces of mustard seed, and two cloves of garlic to six lemons. When the lemons are to be used, the pickle will be useful in fish or other sauces. PICKLED MACKAREL. Clean and divide the fish, and cut each side into three; or leave them undivided, and cut each side into five or six pieces. To six large mackarel, take nearly an ounce of pepper, two nutmegs, a little mace, four cloves, and a handful of salt, all finely powdered. Mix them together, make holes in each bit of fish, put the seasoning into them, and rub some of it over each piece. Fry them brown in oil, and when cold put them into a stone jar, and cover them with vinegar. Thus prepared, they will keep for months; and if to be kept longer, pour oil on the top. Mackarel preserved this way are called Caveach. A more common way is to boil the mackarel after they are cleaned, and then to boil up some of the liquor with a few peppercorns, bay leaves, and a little vinegar; and when the fish is cold, the liquor is poured over them. Collared mackarel are prepared the same way as collared eel. PICKLED MELONS. Take six melons, cut a slice out of them, and scrape out the seeds and pulp quite clean. Put them into a tin stewpan with as much water as will cover them; add a small handful of salt, and boil them over a quick fire. When they boil take them off the fire, put them into an earthen pan with the water, and let them stand till the next day. The melons must then be taken out and wiped dry, both within and without. Put two small cloves of garlic into each, a little bit of ginger, and bruised mustard seed, enough to fill them. Replace the slice that was cut out, and tie it on with a thread. Boil some cloves, mace, ginger, pepper, and mustard seed, all bruised, and some garlic, in as much vinegar as will cover them. After a little boiling, pour the whole, boiling-hot, upon the melons. They must be quite covered with the pickle, and tied down close, when cold, with a bladder and leather. They will not be fit for use in less than three or four months, and will keep two or three years. PICKLED MUSHROOMS. Rub the buttons with a piece of flannel, and salt. Take out the red inside of the larger ones, and when old and black they will do for pickling. Throw some salt over, and put them into a stewpan with mace and pepper. As the liquor comes out, shake them well, and keep them over a gentle fire till all of it be dried into them again. Then put as much vinegar into the pan as will cover them, give it one warm, and turn all into a glass or stone jar. Mushrooms pickled in this way will preserve their flavour, and keep for two years. PICKLED NASTURTIUM. Take the buds fresh off the plants when they are pretty large, but before they grow hard, and put them into some of the best white wine vinegar, boiled up with such spices as are most agreeable. Keep them in a bottle closely stopped, and they will be fit for use in a week or ten days. PICKLED ONIONS. In the month of September, choose the small white round onions, take off the brown skin, have ready a very nice tin stewpan of boiling water, and throw in as many onions as will cover the top. As soon as they look clear on the outside, take them up with a slice as quick as possible, and lay them on a clean cloth. Cover them close with another cloth, and scald some more, and so on. Let them lie to be cold, then put them in a jar or wide-mouthed glass bottles, and pour over them the best white-wine vinegar, just hot, but not boiling, and cover them when cold. They must look quite clear; and if the outer skin be shriveled, peel it off. PICKLED OYSTERS. Open four dozen large oysters, wash them in their own liquor, wipe them dry, and strain off the liquor. Add a dessert-spoonful of pepper, two blades of mace, a table-spoonful of salt, if the liquor require it; then add three spoonfuls of white wine, and four of vinegar. Simmer the oysters a few minutes in the liquor, then put them into small jars, boil up the pickle, and skim it. When cold, pour the liquor over the oysters, and cover them close.--Another way. Open the oysters, put them into a saucepan with their own liquor for ten minutes, and simmer them very gently. Put them into a jar one by one, that none of the grit may stick to them; and when cold, cover them with the pickle thus made. Boil the liquor with a bit of mace, lemon peel, and black peppers; and to every hundred of these corns, put two spoonfuls of the best undistilled vinegar. The pickle should be kept in small jars, and tied close with bladder, for the air will spoil them. PICKLED PIGEONS. Bone them, turn the inside out, and lard it. Season with a little salt and allspice in fine powder; then turn them again, and tie the neck and rump with thread. Put them into boiling water; when they have boiled a minute or two to make them plump, take them out and dry them well. Then put them boiling hot into the pickle, which must be made of equal quantities of white wine and white-wine vinegar, with white pepper and allspice, sliced ginger and nutmeg, and two or three bay leaves. When it boils up, put in the pigeons. If they are small, a quarter of an hour will do them; if large, twenty minutes. Then take them out, wipe them, and let them cool. When the pickle is cold, take the fat from it, and put them in again. Keep them in a stone jar, tied down with a bladder to keep out the air. Instead of larding, put into some a stuffing made of yolks of eggs boiled hard, and marrow in equal quantities, with sweet herbs, pepper, salt, and mace. PICKLED PORK. The hams and shoulders being cut off, take for pickling the quantities proportioned to the middlings of a pretty large hog. Mix and pound fine, four ounces of salt petre, a pound of coarse sugar, an ounce of salprunel, and a little common salt. Sprinkle the pork with salt, drain it twenty four hours, and then rub it with the above mixture. Pack the pieces tight in a small deep tub, filling up the spaces with common salt. Place large pebbles on the pork, to prevent it from swimming in the pickle which the salt will produce. If kept from the air it will continue very fine for two years. PICKLED ROSES. Take two pecks of damask rose buds, pick off the green part, and strew in the bottom of a jar a handful of large bay salt. Put in half the roses, and strew a little more bay salt upon them. Strip from the stalk a handful of knotted marjoram, a handful of lemon thyme, and as much common thyme. Take six pennyworth of benjamin, as much of storax, six orris roots, and a little suet; beat and bruise them all together, and mix them with the stripped herbs. Add twenty cloves, a grated nutmeg, the peel of two Seville oranges pared thin, and of one lemon shred fine. Mix them with the herbs and spices, strew all on the roses, and stir them once in two days till the jar is full. More sweets need not be added, but only roses, orange flowers, or single pinks. PICKLED SALMON. After scaling and cleaning, split the salmon, and divide it into convenient pieces. Lay it in the kettle to fill the bottom, and as much water as will cover it. To three quarts add a pint of vinegar, a handful of salt, twelve bay-leaves, six blades of mace, and a quarter of an ounce of black pepper. When the salmon is boiled enough, drain and lay it on a clean cloth; then put more salmon into the kettle, and pour the liquor upon it, and so on till all is done. After this, if the pickle be not smartly flavoured with the vinegar and salt, add more, and boil it quick three quarters of an hour. When all is cold, pack the dish in a deep pot, well covered with the pickle, and kept from the air. The liquor must be drained from the fish, and occasionally boiled and skimmed. PICKLED SAMPHIRE. Clear the branches of the samphire from the dead leaves, and lay them into a large jar, or small cask. Make a strong brine of white or bay salt, skim it clean while it is boiling, and when done let it cool. Take the samphire out of the water, and put it into a bottle with a broad mouth. Add some strong white-wine vinegar, and keep it well covered down. PICKLED STURGEON. The following is an excellent imitation of pickled sturgeon. Take a fine large turkey, but not old; pick it very nicely, singe, and make it extremely clean. Bone and wash it, and tie it across and across with a piece of mat string washed clean. Put into a very nice tin saucepan a quart of water, a quart of vinegar, a quart of white wine, not sweet, and a large handful of salt. Boil and skim it well, and then boil the turkey. When done enough, tighten the strings, and lay upon it a dish with a weight of two pounds over it. Boil the liquor half an hour; and when both are cold, put the turkey into it. This will keep some months, and eats more delicately than sturgeon. Vinegar, oil, and sugar, are usually eaten with it. If more vinegar or salt should be wanted, add them when cold. Garnish with fennel. PICKLED TONGUES. To prepare neats' tongues for boiling, cut off the roots, but leave a little of the kernel and fat. Sprinkle some salt, and let it drain from the slime till next day. Then for each tongue mix a large spoonful of common salt, the same of coarse sugar and about half as much of salt petre; rub it in well, and do so every day. In a week add another spoonful of salt. If rubbed every day, a tongue will be ready in a fortnight; but if only turned in the pickle daily, it will keep four or five weeks without being too salt. When tongues are to be dried, write the date on a parchment, and tie it on. Tongues may either be smoked, or dried plain. When a tongue is to be dressed, boil it five hours till it is quite tender. If done sooner, it is easily kept hot for the table. The longer it is kept after drying, the higher it will be; and if hard, it may require soaking three or four hours.--Another way. Clean and prepare as above; and for two tongues allow an ounce of salt petre, and an ounce of salprunella, and rub them in well. In two days after well rubbing, cover them with common salt, turn them every day for three weeks, then dry them, rub bran over, and smoke them. Keep them in a cool dry place, and in ten days they will be fit to eat. PICKLED WALNUTS. When they will bear a pin to go into them, boil a brine of salt and water, strong enough to swim an egg, and skim it well. When the brine is quite cold, pour it on the walnuts, and let them soak for six days. Change the brine, and let them stand six more; then drain and put them into a jar, pouring over them a sufficient quantity of the best vinegar. Add plenty of black pepper, pimento, ginger, mace, cloves, mustard seed, and horseradish, all boiled together, but put on cold. To every hundred of walnuts put six spoonfuls of mustard seed, and two or three heads of garlic or shalot, but the latter is the mildest. The walnuts will be fit for use in about six months; but if closely covered, they will be good for several years: the air will soften them. The pickle will be equal to ketchup, when the walnuts are used.--Another way. Put the walnuts into a jar, cover them with the best vinegar cold, and let them stand four months. Then, pour off the pickle, and boil as much fresh vinegar as will cover the walnuts, adding to every three quarts of vinegar a quarter of a pound of the best mustard, a stick of horseradish sliced, half an ounce of black pepper, half an ounce of allspice, and a good handful of salt. Pour the whole boiling hot upon the walnuts, and cover them close: they will be fit for use in three or four months. Two ounces of garlic or shalot may be added, but must not be boiled in the vinegar. The pickle in which the walnuts stood the first four months, may be used as ketchup. PICTURES. The following simple method of preventing flies from sitting on pictures, or any other furniture, is well experienced, and if generally adopted, would prevent much trouble and damage. Soak a large bunch of leeks five or six days in a pail of water, and wash the pictures with it, or any other piece of furniture. The flies will never come near any thing that is so washed. PIE SAUCE. Mix some gravy with an anchovy, a sprig of sweet herbs, an onion, and a little mushroom liquor. Boil and thicken it with butter rolled in flour, add a little red wine, and pour the sauce into the pie. This serves for mutton, lamb, veal, or beef pies, when such an addition is required. PIES AND TARTS. Attention should be paid to the heat of the oven for all kinds of pies and tarts. Light paste should be put into a moderate oven: if too hot the crust will not rise, but burn: if too slack, the paste will be heavy, and not of a good colour. Raised paste should have a quick oven, and well closed. Iced tarts should be done in a slack oven, or the iceing will become brown before the tarts are baked. PIGEONS. In order to breed pigeons, it is best to take two young ones at a time; and if well looked after, and plentifully fed, they will breed every month. They should be kept very clean, and the bottom of the dove-cote be strewed with sand once a month or oftener. Tares and white peas are their proper food, and they should be provided with plenty of fresh water. Starlings and other birds are apt to come among them, and suck the eggs. Vermin likewise are their enemies, and frequently destroy them. If the brood should be too small, put among them a few tame pigeons of their own colour. Observe not to have too large a proportion of cock birds, for they are quarrelsome, and will soon thin the dove-cote. Pigeons are fond of salt, and it keeps them in health. Lay a large piece of clay near their dwelling, and pour upon it any of the salt brine that may be useless in the family. Bay salt and cummin seeds mixed together, is a universal remedy for the diseases of pigeons. The backs and breasts are sometimes scabby, but may be cured in the following manner. Take a quarter of a pound of bay salt, and as much common salt; a pound of fennel seed, a pound of dill seed, as much cummin seed, and an ounce of assafoetida; mix all with a little wheat flour, and some fine wrought clay. When all are well beaten together, put it into two earthen pots, and bake them in the oven. When the pots are cold, put them on the table in the dove-cote; the pigeons will eat the mixture and get well. PIGEONS DRESSED. These birds are particularly useful, as they may be dressed in so many ways. The good flavour of them depends very much on their being cropped and drawn as soon as killed. No other bird requires so much washing. Pigeons left from dinner the day before may be stewed, or made into a pie. In either case, care must be taken not to overdo them, which will make them stringy. They need only be heated up in gravy ready prepared; and forcemeat balls may be fried and added, instead of putting a stuffing into them. If for a pie, let beef steaks be stewed in a little water, and put cold under them. Cover each pigeon with a piece of fat bacon to keep them moist, season as usual, and put in some eggs.--In purchasing pigeons, be careful to see that they are quite fresh: if they look flabby about the vent, and that part is discoloured, they are stale. The feet should be supple: if old the feet are harsh. The tame ones are larger than the wild, and by some they are thought to be the best. They should be fat and tender; but many are deceived in their size, because a full crop is as large as the whole body of a small pigeon. The wood-pigeon is large, and the flesh dark coloured: if properly kept, and not over roasted, the flavour is equal to teal. PIGEONS IN DISGUISE. Draw the pigeons, take out the craw very carefully, wash them clean, cut off the pinions, and turn their legs under their wings. Season them with pepper and salt, roll each pigeon in a puff paste, close them well, tie them in separate cloths, and boil them an hour and a half. When they are untied be careful they do not break; put them in a dish, and pour a little good gravy over them. PIGEONS IN A HOLE. Truss four young pigeons, as for boiling, and season them with pepper, salt, and mace. Put into the belly of each a small piece of butter, lay them in a pie dish, and pour batter over them, made of three eggs, two spoonfuls of flour, and half a pint of milk. Bake them in a moderate oven, and send them to table in the same dish. PIGEONS IN JELLY. Save some of the liquor in which a knuckle of veal has been boiled, or boil a calf's or a neat's foot; put the broth into a pan with a blade of mace, a bunch of sweet herbs, some white pepper, lemon peel, a slice of lean bacon, and the pigeons. Bake them, and let them stand to be cold; but season them before baking. When done, take them out of the liquor, cover them close to preserve the colour, and clear the jelly by boiling it with the whites of two eggs. Strain it through a thick cloth dipped in boiling water, and put into a sieve. The fat must be all removed, before it be cleared. Put the jelly roughly over and round the pigeons.--A beautiful dish may be made in the following manner. Pick two very nice pigeons, and make them look as well as possible by singeing, washing, and cleaning the heads well. Leave the heads and the feet on, but the nails must be clipped close to the claws. Roast them of a very nice brown; and when done, put a small sprig of myrtle into the bill of each. Prepare a savoury jelly, and with it half fill a bowl of such a size as shall be proper to turn down on the dish intended for serving in. When the jelly and the birds are cold, see that no gravy hangs to the birds, and then lay them upside down in the jelly. Before the rest of it begins to set, pour it over the birds, so as to be three inches above the feet. This should be done full twenty four hours before serving. The dish thus prepared will have a very handsome appearance in the mid range of a second coarse; or when served with the jelly roughed large, it makes a side or corner dish, being then of a smaller size. The head of the pigeons should be kept up, as if alive, by tying the neck with some thread, and the legs bent as if the birds sat upon them. PIGEON PIE. Rub the pigeons with pepper and salt, inside and out. Put in a bit of butter, and if approved, some parsley chopped with the livers, and a little of the same seasoning. Lay a beef steak at the bottom of the dish, and the birds on it; between every two, a hard egg. Put a cup of water in the dish; and if a thin slice or two of ham be added, it will greatly improve the flavour. When ham is cut for gravy or pies, the under part should be taken, rather than the prime. Season the gizzards, and two joints of the wings, and place them in the centre of the pie. Over them, in a hole made in the crust, put three of the feet nicely cleaned, to show what pie it is. PIG'S CHEEK. To prepare a pig's cheek for boiling, cut off the snout, and clean the head. Divide it, take out the eyes and the brains, sprinkle the head with salt, and let it drain twenty-four hours. Salt it with common salt and saltpetre; and if to be dressed without being stewed with peas, let it lie eight or ten days, but less if to be dressed with peas. It must first be washed, and then simmered till all is tender. PIG'S FEET AND EARS. Clean them carefully, soak them some hours, and boil them quite tender. Then take them out, and boil a little salt and vinegar with some of the liquor, and pour it over them when cold. When to be dressed, dry them, cut the feet in two, and slice the ears. Fry them, and serve with butter, mustard, and vinegar. They may be either done in batter, or only floured. PIG'S FEET AND EARS FRICASSEED. If to be dressed with cream, put no vinegar into the pickle. Cut the feet and ears into neat bits, and boil them in a little milk. Pour the liquor from them, and simmer in a little veal broth, with a bit of onion, mace, and lemon peel. Before the dish is served up, add a little cream, flour, butter, and salt. PIG'S FEET JELLY. Clean the feet and ears very carefully, and soak them some hours. Then boil them in a very small quantity of water, till every bone can be taken out. Throw in half a handful of chopped sage, the same of parsley, and a seasoning of pepper, salt, and mace in fine powder. Simmer till the herbs are scalded, and then pour the whole into a melon form. PIG'S HARSLET. Wash and dry some liver, sweetbreads, and fat and lean bits of pork, beating the latter with a rolling-pin to make it tender. Season with pepper, salt, sage, and a little onion shred fine. When mixed, put all into a cawl, and fasten it up tight with a needle and thread. Roast it on a hanging jack, or by a string. Serve with a sauce of port wine and water, and mustard, just boiled up, and put into the dish. Or serve it in slices with parsley for a fry. PIG'S HEAD COLLARED. Scour the head and ears nicely, take off the hair and snout, and remove the eyes and the brain. Lay the head into water one night, then drain it, salt it extremely well with common salt and saltpetre, and let it lie five days. Boil it enough to take out the bones, then lay it on a dresser, turning the thick end of one side of the head towards the thin end of the other, to make the roll of equal size. Sprinkle it well with salt and white pepper, and roll it with the ears. The pig's feet may also be placed round the outside when boned, or the thin parts of two cow heels, if approved. Put it in a cloth, bind it with a broad tape, and boil it till quite tender. Place a good weight upon it, and do not remove the covering till the meat is cold. If the collar is to be more like brawn, salt it longer, add a larger proportion of saltpetre, and put in also some pieces of lean pork. Then cover it with cow heel to make it look like the horn. This may be kept in a pickle of boiled salt and water, or out of pickle with vinegar: it will be found a very convenient article to have in the house. If likely to spoil, slice and fry it, either with or without batter. PIG SAUCE. Take a tea-spoonful of white gravy, a small piece of anchovy, with the gravy from the roasting of the pig, and mix the brains with it when chopped. Add a quarter of a pound of butter, a little flour to thicken it, a slice of lemon, and a little salt. Shake it over the fire, and put it hot into the dish. Good sauce may also be made by putting some of the bread and sage, which has been roasted in the pig, into good beef gravy, and adding the brains to it. PILAU. Stew a pound of rice in white gravy till it is tender. Half boil a well grown fowl, then lay it into a baking dish with some pepper and salt strewed over it. Lay truffles, morels, mushrooms, hard eggs, or forcemeat balls, any or all of them round it at pleasure; put a little gravy into the dish, and spread the rice over the whole like a paste. Bake it gently, till the fowl is done enough. If it seem dry, cut a hole carefully at the top, and pour in some white gravy, made pretty warm, before it is sent to table. Partridges or pheasants are very nice, dressed the same way. PILCHARD PIE. Soak two or three salted pilchards for some hours, the day before they are to be dressed. Clean and skin the white part of some large leeks, scald them in milk and water, and put them in layers into a dish, with the pilchards. Cover the whole with a good plain crust. When the pie is taken out of the oven, lift up the side crust with a knife, and empty out all the liquor: then pour in half a pint of scalded cream. PILE OINTMENT. Cut some green shoots of elder early in the spring, clear away the bark, and put two good handfuls into a quart of thick cream. Boil it till it comes to an ointment, and as it rises take it off with a spoon, and be careful to prevent its burning. Strain the ointment through a fine cloth, and keep it for use. PILES. If this complaint be occasioned by costiveness, proper attention must be paid to that circumstance; but if it originate from weakness, strong purgatives must be avoided. The part affected should be bathed twice a day with a sponge dipped in cold water, and the bowels regulated by the mildest laxatives. An electuary, consisting of one ounce of sulphur, and half an ounce of cream of tartar, mixed with a sufficient quantity of treacle, may be taken three or four times a day. The patient would also find relief by sitting over the steam of warm water. A useful liniment for this disorder may be made of two ounces of emollient ointment, and half an ounce of laudanum. Mix them with the yolk of an egg, and work them well together. PILLS. Opening pills may be made of two drams of Castile soap, and two drams of succotrine aloes, mixed with a sufficient quantity of common syrup. Or when aloes will not agree with the patient, take two drams of the extract of jalap, two drams of vitriolated tartar, and as much syrup of ginger as will form them of a proper consistence for pills. Four or five of these pills will generally prove a sufficient purge; and for keeping the body gently open, one may be taken night and morning.--Composing pills may consist of ten grains of purified opium, and half a dram of Castile soap, beaten together, and formed into twenty parts. When a quieting draught will not sit upon the stomach, one or two of these pills may be taken to great advantage.--Pills for the jaundice may be made of one dram each of Castile soap, succotrine aloes, and rhubarb, mixed up with a sufficient quantity of syrup. Five or six of these pills taken twice a day, more or less, to keep the body open, with the assistance of a proper diet, will often effect a cure. PIPERS. Boil or bake them with a pudding well seasoned. If baked, put a large cup of rich broth into the dish; and when done, boil up together for sauce, the broth, some essence of anchovy, and a squeeze of lemon. PIPPIN PUDDING. Coddle six pippins in vine leaves covered with water, very gently, that the inside may be done without breaking the skins. When soft, take off the skin, and with a tea-spoon take the pulp from the core. Press it through a cullender, add two spoonfuls of orange-flower water, three eggs beaten, a glass of raisin wine, a pint of scalding cream, sugar and nutmeg to taste. Lay a thin puff paste at the bottom and sides of the dish; shred some very thin lemon peel as fine as possible, and put it into the dish; likewise lemon, orange, and citron, in small slices, but not so thin as to dissolve in the baking. PIPPIN TARTS. Pare two seville or china oranges quite thin, boil the peel tender and shred it fine. Pare and core twenty pippins, put them in a stewpan, with as little water as possible. When half done, add half a pound of sugar, the orange peel and juice, and boil all together till it is pretty thick. When cold, put it in a shallow dish, or pattipans lined with paste, to turn out, and be eaten cold. PISTACHIO CREAM. Blanch four ounces of pistachio nuts, beat them fine with a little rose-water, and add the paste to a pint of cream. Sweeten it, let it just boil, and then put it into glasses. PISTACHIO TART. Shell and peel half a pound of pistachio nuts, beat them very fine in a marble mortar, and work into them a piece of fresh butter. Add to this a quarter of a pint of cream, or of the juice of beet leaves, extracted by pounding them in a marble mortar, and then draining off the juice through a piece of muslin. Grate in two macarones, add the yolks of two eggs, a little salt, and sugar to the taste. Bake it lightly with a puff crust under it, and some little ornaments on the top. Sift some fine sugar over, before it is sent to table. PLAICE. The following is an excellent way of dressing a large plaice, especially if there be a roe. Sprinkle it with salt, and keep it twenty four hours. Then wash, and wipe it dry, smear it over with egg, and cover it with crumbs of bread. Boil up some lard or fine dripping, with two large spoonfuls of vinegar; lay in the fish, and fry it of a fine colour. Drain off the fat, serve it with fried parsley laid round, and anchovy sauce. The fish may be dipped in vinegar, instead of putting vinegar in the pan. PLAIN BREAD PUDDING. Prepare five ounces of bread crumbs, put them in a basin, pour three quarters of a pint of boiling milk over them, put a plate over the top to keep in the steam, and let it stand twenty minutes. Then beat it up quite smooth, with two ounces of sugar, and a little nutmeg. Break four eggs on a plate, leaving out one white, beat them well, and add them to the pudding. Stir it all well together, put it into a mould that has been well buttered and floured, tie a cloth tight over it, and boil it an hour. PLAIN CHEESECAKES. Three quarters of a pound of cheese curd, and a quarter of a pound of butter, beat together in a mortar. Add a quarter of a pound of fine bread soaked in milk, three eggs, six ounces of currants well washed and picked, sugar to the taste, a little candied orange peel, and a little sack. Bake them in a puff crust in a quick oven. PLAIN FRITTERS. Grate a fine penny loaf into a pint of milk, beat it smooth, add the yolks of five eggs, three ounces of fine sugar, and a little nutmeg. Fry them in hog's lard, and serve them up with melted butter and sugar. PLAIN PEAS SOUP. The receipts too generally given for peas are so much crowded with ingredients, that they entirely overpower the flavour of the peas. Nothing more is necessary to plain good soup, than a quart of split peas, two heads of celery, and an onion. Boil all together in three quarts of broth or soft water; let them simmer gently on a trivet over a slow fire for three hours, and keep them stirring, to prevent burning at the bottom of the kettle. If the water boils away, and the soup gets too thick, add some boiling water to it. When the peas are well softened, work them through a coarse sieve, and then through a tammis. Wash out the stewpan, return the soup into it, and give it a boil up; take off any scum that rises, and the soup is ready. Prepare some fried bread and dried mint, and send them up with it on two side dishes. This is an excellent family soup, produced with very little trouble or expense, the two quarts not exceeding the charge of one shilling. Half a dram of bruised celery seed, and a little sugar, added just before finishing the soup, will give it as much flavour as two heads of the fresh vegetable. PLAIN RICE PUDDING. Wash and pick some rice, scatter among it some pimento finely powdered, but not too much. Tie up the rice in a cloth, and leave plenty of room for it to swell. Boil it in a good quantity of water for an hour or two, and serve it with butter and sugar, or milk. Lemon peel may be added to the pudding, but it is very good without spice, and may be eaten with butter and salt. PLANTING. In rendering swampy ground useful, nothing is so well adapted as planting it with birch or alder, which grows spontaneously on bogs and swamps, a kind of soil which otherwise would produce nothing but weeds and rushes. The wood of the alder is particularly useful for all kinds of machinery, for pipes, drains, and pump trees, as it possesses the peculiar quality of resisting injury from wet and weather. The bark is also highly valuable to black dyers, who purchase it at a good price; and it is much to be lamented that the properties of this useful tree are not duly appreciated. PLANTATIONS. Young plantations are liable to great injury, by being barked in the winter season. To prevent this, take a quantity of grease, scent it with a little tar, and mix them well together. Brush it round the stems of young trees, as high at least as hares and rabbits can reach, and it will effectually prevent their being barked by these animals. Tar must not be used alone, for when exposed to the sun and air, it becomes hard and binding, and hinders the growth of the plantation. Grease will not have this effect, and the scent of the tar is highly obnoxious to hares and rabbits. PLASTERS. Common plaster is made of six pints of olive oil, and two pounds and a half of litharge finely powdered. A smaller quantity may of course be made of equal proportions. Boil them together over a gentle fire, in about a gallon of water, and keep the ingredients constantly stirring. After they have boiled about three hours, a little of the salve may be taken out, and put into cold water. When of a proper consistence, the whole may be suffered to cool, and the water pressed out of it with the hands. This will serve as a basis for other plasters, and is generally applied in slight wounds and excoriations of the skin. It keeps the part warm and supple, and defends it from the air, which is all that is necessary in such cases.--Adhesive plaster, which is principally used for keeping on other dressings, consists of half a pound of common plaster, and a quarter of a pound of Burgundy pitch melted together.--Anodyne plaster is as follows. Melt an ounce of the adhesive, and when cooling, mix with it a dram of powdered opium, and the same of camphor, previously rubbing with a little oil. This plaster generally gives ease in acute pains, especially of the nervous kind.--Blistering plaster is made in a variety of ways, but seldom of a proper consistence. When compounded of oils, and other greasy substances, its effects are lessened, and it is apt to run, while pitch and rosin render it hard and inconvenient. The following will be found the best method. Take six ounces of venice turpentine, two ounces of yellow wax, three ounces of spanish flies finely powdered, and one ounce of the flour of mustard. Melt the wax, and while it is warm, add the turpentine to it, taking care not to evaporate it by too much heat. After the turpentine and wax are sufficiently incorporated, sprinkle in the powders, and stir the mass till it is cold. When the blistering plaster is not at hand, mix with any soft ointment a sufficient quantity of powdered flies, or form them into a plaster with flour and vinegar. PLATE. The best way to clean plate, is to boil an ounce of prepared hartshorn powder in a quart of water; and while on the fire, put in as much plate as the vessel will hold. Let it boil a little, then take it out, drain it over the saucepan, and dry it before the fire. Put in more, and serve it the same, till all is done. Then soak some clean rags in the water, and when dry they will serve to clean the plate. Cloths thus saturated with hartshorn powder, are also the best things for cleaning brass locks, and the finger plates of doors. When the plate is quite dry, it must be rubbed bright with soft leather. In many plate powders there is a mixture of quicksilver, which is very injurious; and among other disadvantages, it makes silver so brittle that it will break with a fall. In common cases, whitening, properly purified from sand, applied wet, and rubbed till dry, is one of the cheapest and best of all plate powders. PLATING OF GLASS. Pour some mercury on a tin foil, smoothly laid on a flat table, and rub it gently with a hare's foot. It soon unites itself to the tin, which then becomes very splendid, or is what they call quickened. A plate of glass is then cautiously, passed upon the tin leaf, in such a manner as to sweep off the redundant mercury, which is not incorporated with the tin. Leaden weights are then to be placed on the glass; and in a little time the quicksilvered tin foil adheres, so firmly to the glass, that the weights may be removed without any danger of its falling off. The glass thus coated is a common looking-glass. About two ounces of mercury are sufficient for covering three square feet of glass. PLOVERS. In purchasing plovers, choose those that feel hard at the vent, which shows they are fat. In other respects, choose them by the same marks as other fowl. When stale, the feet are harsh and dry. They will keep a long time. There are three sorts of these birds, the grey, the green, and the bastard plover, or lapwing. Green plovers are roasted in the same way as snipes and woodcocks, without drawing, and are served on toast. The grey ones may be roasted, or stewed with gravy, herbs, and spice. PLOVERS' EGGS. Boil them ten minutes, and serve them either hot or cold on a napkin. These make a nice and fashionable dish. PLUM CAKE. This is such a favourite article in most families, and is made in so many different ways, that it will be necessary to give a variety of receipts, in order that a selection may be made agreeably to the taste of the reader, or the quality of the article to be preferred.--For a good common plum cake, mix five ounces of butter in three pounds of fine dry flour, and five ounces of the best moist sugar. Add six ounces of currants, washed and dried, and some pimento finely powdered. Put three spoonfuls of yeast into a pint of new milk warmed, and mix it with the above into a light dough.--A cake of a better sort. Mix thoroughly a quarter of a peck of fine flour well dried, with a pound of dry and sifted loaf sugar, three pounds of currants washed and very dry, half a pound of raisins stoned and chopped, a quarter of an ounce of mace and cloves, twenty peppercorns, a grated nutmeg, the peel of a lemon cut as fine as possible, and half a pound of almonds blanched and beaten with orange-flower water. Melt two pounds of butter in a pint and a quarter of cream, but not too hot; add a pint of sweet wine, a glass of brandy, the whites and yolks of twelve eggs beaten apart, and half a pint of good yeast. Strain this liquid by degrees into the dry ingredients, beating them together a full hour; then butter the hoop or pan, and bake it. When the batter is put into the pan, throw in plenty of citron, lemon, and orange candy. If the cake is to be iced, take half a pound of double refined sugar sifted, and put a little with the white of an egg; beat it well, and by degrees pour in the remainder. It must be whisked nearly an hour, with the addition of a little orange-flower water, but not too much. When the cake is done, pour the iceing over it, and return it to the oven for fifteen minutes. But if the oven be quite warm, keep it near the mouth, and the door open, lest the colour be spoiled.--Another. Dried flour, currants washed and picked, four pounds; sugar pounded and sifted, a pound and a half; six orange, lemon, and citron peels, cut in slices. These are to be mixed together. Beat ten eggs, yolks and whites separately. Melt a pound and a half of butter in a pint of cream; when cold, put to it half a pint of yeast, near half a pint of sweet wine, and the eggs. Then strain the liquid to the dry ingredients, beat them well, and add of cloves, mace, cinnamon, and nutmeg, half an ounce each. Butter the pan, and put it into a quick oven. Three hours will bake it.--Another. Mix with a pound of well-dried flour, a pound of loaf sugar, and the eighth of an ounce of mace, well beaten. Beat up five eggs with half the whites, a gill of rose water, and a quarter of a pint of yeast, and strain them. Melt half a pound of butter in a quarter of a pint of cream, and when cool, mix all together. Beat up the batter with a light hand, and set it to rise half an hour. Before it is put into the oven, mix in a pound and a half of currants, well washed and dried, and bake it an hour and a quarter.--For a rich cake, take three pounds of well-dried flour, three pounds of fresh butter, a pound and a half of fine sugar dried and sifted, five pounds of currants carefully cleaned and dried, twenty-four eggs, three grated nutmegs, a little pounded mace and cloves, half a pound of almonds, a glass of sack, and a pound of citron or orange peel. Pound the almonds in rose water, work up the butter to a thin cream, put in the sugar, and work it well; then the yolks of the eggs, the spices, the almonds, and orange peel. Beat the whites of the eggs to a froth, and put them into the batter as it rises. Keep working it with the hand till the oven is ready, and the scorching subsided; put it into a hoop, but not full, and two hours will bake it. The almonds should be blanched in cold water. This will make a large rich plum cake.--A small common cake may be made of a pound of dough, a quarter of a pound of butter, two eggs, a quarter of a pound of lump sugar, a quarter of a pound of currants, and a little nutmeg.--Another. Take a pound and a half of fine white dough, roll into it a pound of butter, as for pie crust, and set it by the fire. Beat up the yolks of four eggs, with half a pound of fine powdered sugar; pour it upon the mass, and work it well by the fire. Add half a pound of currants, well picked and washed, and send it to the oven. Half the quantity of sugar, eggs, and butter, will make a very pleasant cake.--Another. A pound and a half of well-dried flour, a pound of butter, a pound of sugar, and a pound of currants, picked and washed. Beat up eight eggs, warm the butter, mix all together, and beat it up for an hour.--For little plum cakes, intended to keep for some time, dry a pound of fine flour, and mix it with six ounces of finely pounded sugar. Beat six ounces of butter to a cream, and add to three eggs well beaten, half a pound of currants nicely washed and dried, together with the sugar and flour. Beat all for some time, then dredge some flour on tin plates, and drop the batter on them the size of a walnut. If properly mixed, it will be a stiff paste. Bake in a brisk oven. To make a rich plum cake, take four pounds of flour well dried, mix with it a pound and a half of fine sugar powdered, a grated nutmeg, and an ounce of mace pounded fine. When they are well mixed, make a hole in the middle, and pour in fifteen eggs, but seven whites, well beaten, with a pint of good yeast, half a quarter of a pint of orange-flower water, and the same quantity of sack, or any other rich sweet wine. Then melt two pounds and a half of butter in a pint and a half of cream; and when it is about the warmth of new milk, pour it into the middle of the batter. Throw a little of the flour over the liquids, but do not mix the whole together till it is ready to go into the oven. Let it stand before the fire an hour to rise, laying a cloth over it; then have ready six pounds of currants well washed, picked, and dried; a pound of citron and a pound of orange peel sliced, with a pound of blanched almonds, half cut in slices lengthways, and half finely pounded. Mix all well together, butter the tin well, and bake it two hours and a half. This will make a large cake.--Another, not quite so rich. Three pounds of flour well dried, half a pound of sugar, and half an ounce of spice, nutmeg, mace, and cinnamon, well pounded. Add ten eggs, but only half the whites, beaten with a pint of good yeast. Melt a pound of butter in a pint of cream, add it to the yeast, and let it stand an hour to rise before the fire. Then add three pounds of currants well washed, picked and dried. Butter the tin, and bake it an hour.--A common plum cake is made of three pounds and a half of flour, half a pound of sugar, a grated nutmeg, eight eggs, a glass of brandy, half a pint of yeast, a pound of butter melted in a pint and half of milk, put lukewarm to the other ingredients. Let it rise an hour before the fire, then mix it well together, add two pounds of currants carefully cleaned, butter the tin, and bake it. PLUM JAM. Cut some ripe plums to pieces, put them into a preserving pan, bruise them with a spoon, warm them over the fire till they are soft, and press them through a cullender. Boil the jam an hour, stir it well, add six ounces of fine powdered sugar to every pound of jam, and take it off the fire to mix it. Then heat it ten minutes, put it into jars, and sift some fine sugar over it. PLUM PUDDING. Take six ounces of suet chopped fine, six ounces of malaga raisins stoned, eight ounces of currants nicely washed and picked, three ounces of bread crumbs, three ounces of flour, and three eggs. Add the sixth part of a grated nutmeg, a small blade of mace, the same quantity of cinnamon, pounded as fine as possible; half a tea-spoonful of salt, nearly half a pint of milk, four ounces of sugar, an ounce of candied lemon, and half an ounce of citron. Beat the eggs and spice well together, mix the milk with them by degrees, and then the rest of the ingredients. Dip a fine close linen cloth into boiling water, and put it in a hair sieve, flour it a little, and tie the pudding up close. Put it into a saucepan containing six quarts of boiling water; keep a kettle of boiling water near it, to fill up the pot as it wastes, and keep it boiling six hours. If the water ceases to boil, the pudding will become heavy, and be spoiled. Plum puddings are best when mixed an hour or two before they are boiled, as the various ingredients by that means incorporate, and the whole becomes richer and fuller of flavour, especially if the various ingredients be thoroughly well stirred together. A table-spoonful of treacle will give the pudding a rich brown colour.--Another. Beat up the yolks and whites of three eggs, strain them through a sieve, gradually add to them a quarter of a pint of milk, and stir it well together. Rub in a mortar two ounces of moist sugar, with as much grated nutmeg as will lie on a six-pence, and stir these into the eggs and milk. Then put in four ounces of flour, and beat it into a smooth batter; by degrees stir into it seven ounces of suet, minced as fine as possible, and three ounces of bread crumbs. Mix all thoroughly together, at least half an hour before the pudding is put into the pot. Put it into an earthenware pudding mould, well buttered, tie a pudding cloth tight over it, put it into boiling water, and boil it three hours. Half a pound of raisins cut in halves, and added to the above, will make a most admirable plum pudding. This pudding may also be baked, or put under roast meat, like a Yorkshire pudding. In the latter case, half a pint more milk must be added, and the batter should be an inch and a quarter in thickness. It will take full two hours, and require careful watching; for if the top get burned, an unpleasant flavour will pervade the whole pudding. Or butter some saucers, and fill them with batter; in a dutch oven they will bake in about an hour.--Another. To three quarters of a pound of flour, add the same weight of stoned raisins, half a pound of suet or marrow, cut small, a pint of milk, two eggs, three spoonfuls of moist sugar, and a little salt. Boil the pudding five hours.--To make a small rich plum pudding, take three quarters of a pound of suet finely shred, half a pound of stoned raisins a little chopped, three spoonfuls of flour, three spoonfuls of moist sugar, a little salt and nutmeg, three yolks of eggs, and two whites. Boil the pudding four hours in a basin of tin mould, well buttered. Serve it up with melted butter, white wine and sugar, poured over it.--For a large rich pudding, take three pounds of suet chopped small, a pound and a half of raisins stoned and chopped, a pound and a half of currants, three pounds of flour, sixteen eggs, and a quart of milk. Boil it in a cloth seven hours. If for baking, put in only a pint of milk, with two additional eggs, and an hour and a half will bake it.--A plum pudding without eggs may be made of three quarters of a pound of flour, three quarters of a pound of suet chopped fine, three quarters of a pound of stoned raisins, three quarters of a pound of currants well washed and dried, a tea-spoonful of ground ginger, and rather more of salt. Stir all well together, and add as little milk as will just mix it up quite stiff. Boil the pudding four hours in a buttered basin.--Another. The same proportions of flour and suet, and half the quantity of fruit, with spice, lemon, a glass of white wine, an egg and milk, will make an excellent pudding, but it must be well boiled. POACHED EGGS. Set a stewpan of water on the fire; when boiling, slip an egg, previously broken into a cup, into the water. When the white looks done enough, slide an egg-slice under the egg, and lay it on toast and butter, or boiled spinach. As soon as done enough, serve them up hot. If the eggs be not fresh laid, they will not poach well, nor without breaking. Trim the ragged parts of the whites, and make them look round. POISON. Whenever a quantity of arsenic has been swallowed, by design or mistake, its effects may be counteracted by immediately drinking plenty of milk. The patient should afterwards take a dram of the liver of sulphur, in a pint of warm water, a little at a time as he can bear it; or he may substitute some soap water, a quantity of common ink, or any other acid, if other things cannot be readily procured.--To obviate the ill effects of opium, taken either in a liquid or solid form, emetics should be given as speedily as possible. These should consist of an ounce each of oxymel squills and spearmint water, and half a scruple of ipecacuanha, accompanied with frequent draughts of water gruel to assist the operation.--Those poisons which may be called culinary, are generally the most destructive, because the least suspected; no vessels therefore made of copper or brass should be used in cooking. In cases where the poison of virdigris has been recently swallowed, emetics should first be given, and then the patient should drink abundance of cold water.--If any one has eaten of the deadly nightshade, he should take an emetic as soon as possible, and drink a pint of vinegar or lemon juice in an equal quantity of water, a little at a time; and as sleep would prove fatal, he should keep walking about to prevent it.--For the bite of the mad dog, or other venomous animals, nothing is to be depended on for a cure but immediately cutting out the bitten part with a lancet, or burning it out with a red-hot iron.--To prevent the baneful effects of burning charcoal, set an open vessel of boiling water upon the pan containing the charcoal, and keep it boiling. The steam arising from the water will counteract the effects of the charcoal. Painters, glaziers, and other artificers, should be careful to avoid the poisonous effects of lead, by washing their hands and face clean before meals, and by never eating in the place where they work, nor suffering any food or drink to remain exposed to the fumes or dust of the metal. Every business of this sort should be performed as far as possible with gloves on the hands, to prevent the metal from working into the pores of the skin, which is highly injurious, and lead should never be touched when it is hot. POIVRADE SAUCE. Pick the skins of twelve shalots, chop them small, mix with them a table-spoonful of veal gravy, a gill and a half of vinegar, half an anchovy pressed through a fine sieve, and a little salt and cayenne. If it is to be eaten with hot game, serve it up boiling: if with cold, the sauce is to be cold likewise.--Another way. Put a piece of butter the size of half an egg into a saucepan, with two or three sliced onions, some of the red outward part, of carrots, and of the part answering to it of parsnip, a clove of garlic, two shalots, two cloves, a bay leaf, with basil and thyme. Shake the whole over the fire till it begins to colour, then add a good pinch of flour, a glass of red wine, a glass of water, and a spoonful of vinegar. Boil it half an hour, take off the fat, pass the sauce through a tammis, add some salt and pepper, and use it with any thing that requires a relishing sauce. POLISHED STOVES. Steel or polished stoves may be well cleaned in a few minutes, by using a piece of fine-corned emery stone, and afterwards polishing with flour of emery or rottenstone. If stoves or fire irons have acquired any rust, pound some glass to fine powder; and having nailed some strong woollen cloth upon a board, lay upon it a thick coat of gum water, and sift the powdered glass upon it, and let it dry. This may be repeated as often as is necessary to form a sharp surface, and with this the rust may easily be rubbed off; but care must be taken to have the glass finely powdered, and the gum well dried, or the polish on the irons will be injured. Fire arms, or similar articles, may be kept clean for several months, if rubbed with a mixture consisting of one ounce of camphor dissolved in two pounds of hog's lard, boiled and skimmed, and coloured with a little black lead. The mixture should be left on twenty four hours to dry, and then rubbed off with a linen cloth. POMADE DIVINE. Clear a pound and a half of beef marrow from the strings and bone, put it into an earthen pan of fresh water from the spring, and change the water night and morning for ten days. Then steep it in rose water twenty four hours, and drain it in a cloth till quite dry. Take an ounce of each of the following articles, namely, storax, gum benjamin, odoriferous cypress powder, or of florence; half an ounce of cinnamon, two drams of cloves, and two drams of nutmeg, all finely powdered. Mix them with the marrow above prepared, and put all the ingredients into a pewter pot that holds three quarts. Make a paste of flour and the white of an egg, and lay it upon a piece of rag. Over that must be another piece of linen, to cover the top of the pot very close, that none of the steam may evaporate. Set the pot into a large copper pot of water, observing to keep it steady, that it may not reach to the covering of the pot that holds the marrow. As the water shrinks add more, boiling hot, for it must boil incessantly for four hours. Strain the ointment through a linen cloth into small pots, and cover them when cold. Do not touch it with any thing but silver, and it will keep many years. A fine pomatum may also be made by putting half a pound of fresh marrow prepared as above, and two ounces of fresh hog's lard, on the ingredients; and then observing the same process as above. POMATUM. To make soft pomatum, beat half a pound of unsalted fresh lard in common water, then soak and beat in two different rose-waters. Drain it, and beat it, with two spoonfuls of brandy. Let it drain from this, then add some essence of lemon, and keep it in small pots. Or soak half a pound of clear beef marrow, and a pound of unsalted fresh lard, in water two of three days, changing and beating it every day. Put it into a sieve; and when dry, into a jar, and the jar, into a saucepan of water. When melted, pour it into a bason, and beat it with two spoonfuls of brandy. Drain off the brandy, and add essence of lemon, bergamot, or any other scent that is preferred.--For hard pomatum, prepare as before equal quantities of beef marrow and mutton suet, using the brandy to preserve it, and adding the scent. Then pour it into moulds, or phials, of the size intended for the rolls. When cold break the bottles, clear away the glass carefully, and put paper round the balls. PONDS. Stagnant or running water is often infected with weeds, which become troublesome and injurious to the occupier, but which might easily be prevented by suffering geese, or particularly swans, to feed upon the surface. These water fowls, by nibbling the young shoots as fast as they arise, will prevent their growth and appearance on the surface of the water, and all the expense which might otherwise be incurred in clearing them away. POOR MAN'S SAUCE. Pick a handful of parsley leaves from the stalks, mince them very fine, and strew over a little salt. Shred fine half a dozen young green onions, add these to the parsley, and put them into a sauce boat, with three table-spoonfuls of oil, and five of vinegar. Add some ground black pepper and salt, stir them together, and it is ready. Pickled French beans or gherkins cut fine, may be added, or a little grated horseradish. This sauce is much esteemed in France, where people of taste, weary of rich dishes, occasionally order the fare of the peasant. PORK. This is a strong fat meat, and unless very nicely fed, it is fit only for hard working people. Young pigs, like lamb and veal, are fat and luscious, but afford very little nutriment. Pork fed by butchers, or at distilleries, is very inferior, and scarcely wholesome; it is fat and spongy, and utterly unfit for curing. Dairy fed pork is the best. To judge of pork, pinch the lean; and if young and good, it will easily part. If the rind is tough, thick, and cannot easily be impressed with the finger, it is old. A thin rind denotes a good quality in general. When fresh, the meat will be smooth and cool: if clammy, it is tainted. What is called in some places measly pork, is very unwholesome; and may be known by the fat being full of kernels, which in good pork is never the case. Bacon hogs and porkers are differently cut up. Hogs are kept to a larger size; the chine or backbone is cut down on each side, the whole length, and is a prime part either boiled or roasted. The sides of the hog are made into bacon, and the inside is cut out with very little meat to the bone. On each side there is a large sparerib, which is usually divided into two, a sweet bone and a blade bone. The bacon is the whole outside, and contains a fore leg and a ham; the last of these is the hind leg, but if left with the bacon it is called a gammon. Hog's lard is the inner fat of the bacon hog, melted down. Pickled pork is made of the flesh of the hog, but more frequently of smaller and younger meat. Porkers are not so large as hogs, and are generally divided into four quarters. The fore quarter has the spring or fore leg, the fore loin or neck, the sparerib, and the griskin. The hind quarter has the leg and the loin. Pig's feet and ears make various good dishes, and should be cut off before the legs and cheeks are cured. The bacon hog is sometimes scalded, to take off the hair, and sometimes singed. The porker is always scalded. PORK CHOPS. Cut the chops nearly half an inch thick, trim them neatly, and beat them flat. Put a piece of butter into the fryingpan; as soon as it is hot, put in the chops, turn them often, and they will be nicely browned in fifteen minutes. Take one upon a plate and try it; if done, season it with a little finely minced onion, powdered sage, pepper and salt. Or prepare some sweet herbs, sage and onion chopped fine, and put them into a stewpan with a bit of butter. Give them one fry, beat two eggs on a plate with a little salt, and the minced herbs, and mix it all well together. Dip the chops in one at a time, then cover them with bread crumbs, and fry them in hot lard or drippings, till they are of a light brown. Veal, lamb, or mutton chops, are very good dressed in the same manner. PORK GRISKIN. As this joint is usually very hard, the best way is to cover it with cold water, and let it boil up. Then take it out, rub it over with butter, and set it before the fire in a Dutch oven; a few minutes will do it. PORK JELLY. Take a leg of well-fed pork, just as cut up, beat it, and break the bone. Set it over a gentle fire, with three gallons of water, and simmer it down to one. Stew with it half an ounce of mace, and half an ounce of nutmegs, and strain it through a fine sieve. When cold, take off the fat, and flavour it with salt. This jelly is reckoned a fine restorative in consumptive cases, and nervous debility, a chocolate-cupful to be taken three times a day. PORK AS LAMB. To dress pork like lamb, kill a young pig four or five months old, cut up the fore-quarter for roasting as you do lamb, and truss the shank close. The other parts will make delicate pickled pork, steaks, or pies. PORK PIES. Raise some boiled crust into a round or oval form, and have ready the trimming and small bits of pork when a hog is killed. If these be not sufficient, take the meat of a sweet bone. Beat it well with a rolling-pin, season with pepper and salt, and keep the fat and lean separate. Put it in layers, quite up to the top; lay on the lid, cut the edge smooth round, and pinch it together. As the meat is very solid, it must be baked in a slow soaking oven. The pork may be put into a common dish, with a very plain crust, and be quite as good. Observe to put no bone or water into pork pie: the outside pieces will be hard, unless they are cut small, and pressed close. Pork pies in a raised crust, are intended to be eaten cold. PORK SAUCE. Take two ounces of the leaves of green sage, an ounce of lemon peel thinly pared, an ounce of minced shalot, an ounce of salt, half a dram of cayenne, and half a dram of citric acid. Steep them for a fortnight in a pint of claret, shake it often, and let it stand a day to settle. Decant the clear liquor, and cork it up close. When wanted, mix a table-spoonful in a quarter of a pint of gravy, or melted butter. This will give a fine relish to roast pork, or roast goose. PORK SAUSAGES. Chop fat and lean pork together, season it with pepper, salt, and sage. Fill hogs' guts that have been thoroughly soaked and cleaned, and tie up the ends carefully. Or the minced meat may be kept in a very small pan, closely covered, and so rolled and dusted with flour before it is fried. Serve them up with stewed red cabbage, mashed potatoes, or poached eggs. The sausages should be pricked with a pin, before they are boiled or fried, or they will be liable to burst. PORK STEAKS. Cut them from a loin or neck, and of middling thickness. Pepper and broil them, and keep them turning. When nearly done, put on salt, rub a bit of butter over, and serve the moment they are taken off the fire, a few at a time. PORKER'S HEAD. Choose a fine young head of pork, clean it well, and put bread and sage as for pig. Sow it up tight, roast it as a young pig, on the hanging jack, and serve it with the same kind of sauce. PORTABLE SOUP. Boil one or two knuckles of veal, one or two shins of beef, and three pounds of beef, in as much water only as will cover them. Take the marrow out of the bones, put in any kind of spice, and three large onions. When the meat is done to rags, strain it off, and set it in a very cold place. Take off the cake of fat, which will do for common pie crusts, and put the soup into a double-bottomed tin saucepan. Set it on a pretty quick fire, but do not let it burn. It must boil fast and uncovered, and be stirred constantly for eight hours. Put it into a pan, and let it stand in a cold place a day; then pour it into a round soup-dish, and set the dish into a stewpan of boiling water on a stove, and let it boil. Stir it now and then, till the soup is thick and ropy; then it is enough. Pour it into the little round part at the bottom of cups and basons turned upside down, to form it into cakes; and when cold, turn them out on flannel to dry. Keep them in tin canisters; and when to be used, dissolve them in boiling water. The flavour of herbs may be added, by first boiling and straining off the liquor, and melting the soup in it. This preparation is convenient in travelling, or at sea, where fresh meat is not readily obtained, as by this means a bason of soup may be made in five minutes. PORTER. This pleasant beverage may be made with eight bushels of malt to the hogshead, and eight pounds of hops. While it is boiling in the copper, add to it three pounds of liquorice root bruised, a pound of Spanish liquorice, and twelve pounds of coarse sugar or treacle. PORTUGAL CAKES. Take a pound of well-dried flour, a pound of loaf sugar, a pound of butter well washed in orange-flower water, and a large blade of mace. Take half the flour, and fifteen eggs, leaving out two of the whites, and work them well together with the butter for half an hour, shaking in the rest of the flour with a dredger. Put the cakes into a cool oven, strewing over them a little sugar and flour, and let them bake gently half an hour. PORTUGUESE SOLES. If the fish be large, cut it in two: if small, they need only be split open. The bones being taken out, put the fish into a pan with a bit of butter, and some lemon juice. Fry it lightly, lay it on a dish, spread a forcemeat over each piece, and roll it round, fastening the roll with a few small skewers. Lay the rolls into a small earthen pan, beat up an egg and smear them, and strew some crumbs over. Put the remainder of the egg into the bottom of the pan, with a little meat gravy, a spoonful of caper liquor, an anchovy chopped fine, and some minced parsley. Cover the pan close, and bake in a slow oven till the fish is done enough. Place the rolls in a dish for serving, and cover it to keep them hot till the baked gravy is skimmed. If not enough, a little fresh gravy must be prepared, flavoured as above, and added to the fish. This is the Portuguese way of dressing soles. PORTUGUESE STUFFING. Pound lightly some cold beef, veal, or mutton. Add some fat bacon lightly fried and cut small, some onions, a little garlic or shalot, some parsley, anchovy, pepper, salt, and nutmeg. Pound all fine with a few crumbs, and bind it with two or three yolks of eggs. This stuffing is for baked soles, the heads of which are to be left on one side of the split part, and kept on the outer side of the roll; and when served, the heads are to be turned towards each other in the dish. Garnish with fried or dried parsley. POT HERBS. As some of these are very pungent, they require to be used with discretion, particularly basil, savoury, thyme, or knotted marjoram. The other sorts are milder, and may be used more freely. POT POURRI. Put into a large china jar the following ingredients in layers, with bay salt strewed between. Two pecks of damask roses, part in buds and part blown; violets, orange flowers and jasmine, a handful of each; orris root sliced, benjamin and storax, two ounces of each; a quarter of an ounce of musk, a quarter of a pound of angelica root sliced, a quart of the red parts of clove gilliflowers, two handfuls of lavender flowers, half a handful of rosemary flowers, bay and laurel leaves, half a handful of each; three Seville oranges, stuck as full of cloves as possible, dried in a cool oven and pounded, and two handfuls of balm of gilead dried. Cover all quite close, and when the pot is uncovered the perfume is very fine. POTATOE BALLS. Mix some mashed potatoes with the yolk of an egg, roll the mass into balls, flour them, or put on egg and bread crumbs, and fry them in clean drippings, or brown them in a Dutch oven.--Potatoe balls ragout are made by adding to a pound of potatoes, a quarter of a pound of grated ham, or some chopped parsley, or sweet herbs; adding an onion or shalot, salt and pepper, a little grated nutmeg or other spice, and the yolks of two eggs. They are then to be dressed as potatoe balls. POTATOE BREAD. Weigh half a pound of mealy potatoes after they are boiled or steamed, and rub them while warm into a pound and a half of fine flour, dried a little before the fire. When thoroughly mixed, put in a spoonful of good yeast, a little salt, and warm milk and water sufficient to work into dough. Let it stand by the fire to rise for an hour and a half, then make it into a loaf, and bake it in a tolerably brisk oven. If baked in a tin the crust will be more delicate, but the bread dries sooner.--Another. To two pounds of well-boiled mealy potatoes, rubbed between the hands till they are as fine as flour, mix in thoroughly two large double handfuls of wheat flour, three good spoonfuls of yeast, a little salt, and warm milk enough to make it the usual stiffness of dough. Let it stand three or four hours to rise, then mould it, make it up, and bake it like common bread. POTATOE CHEESECAKES. Boil six ounces of potatoes, and four ounces of lemon peel; beat the latter in a marble mortar, with four ounces of sugar. Then add the potatoes, beaten, and four ounces of butter melted in a little cream. When well mixed, let it stand to grow cold. Put crust in pattipans, and rather more than half fill them. This quantity will make a dozen cheesecakes, which are to be baked half an hour in a quick oven, with some fine powdered sugar sifted over them. POTATOE FRITTERS. Boil two large potatoes, scrape them fine; beat up four yolks and three whites of eggs, and add a large spoonful of cream, another of sweet wine, a squeeze of lemon, and a little nutmeg. Beat this batter at least half an hour, till it be extremely light. Put a good quantity of fine lard into a stewpan, and drop a spoonful of the batter at a time into it, and fry the fritters. Serve for sauce a glass of white wine, the juice of a lemon, one dessert spoonful of peach leaf or almond water, and some white sugar. Warm them together, but do not put the sauce into the dish.--Another way. Slice some potatoes thin, dip them in a fine batter, and fry them. Lemon peel, and a spoonful of orange-flower water, should be added to the batter. Serve up the fritters with white sugar sifted over them. POTATOE PASTE. Pound some boiled potatoes very fine, and while warm, add butter sufficient to make the mash hold together. Or mix it with an egg; and before it gets cold, flour the board pretty well to prevent it from sticking, and roll the paste to the thickness wanted. If suffered to get quite cold before it be put on the dish, it will be apt to crack. POTATOE PASTY. Boil, peel, and mash some potatoes as fine as possible. Mix in some salt, pepper, and a good piece of butter. Make a paste, roll it out thin like a large puff, and put in the potatoe. Fold over one half, pinching the edges, and bake it in a moderate oven. POTATOE PIE. Skin some potatoes, cut them into slices, and season them. Add some mutton, beef, pork, or veal, and put in alternate layers of meat and potatoes. POTATOE PUDDING. To make a plain potatoe pudding, take eight ounces of boiled potatoes, two ounces of butter, the yolks and whites of two eggs, a quarter of a pint of cream, a spoonful of white wine, the juice and rind of a lemon, and a little salt. Beat all to a froth, sweeten it to taste, make a crust to it, or not, and bake it. If the pudding is required to be richer, add three ounces more of butter, another egg, with sweetmeats and almonds. If the pudding is to be baked with meat, boil the potatoes and mash them. Rub the mass through a cullender, and make it into a thick batter with milk and two eggs. Lay some seasoned steaks in a dish, then some batter; and over the last layer of meat pour the remainder of the batter, and bake it of a fine brown.--Another. Mash some boiled potatoes with a little milk, season it with pepper and salt, and cut some fat meat into small pieces. Put a layer of meat at the bottom of the dish, and then a layer of potatoe till the dish is full. Smooth the potatoes on the top, shake a little suet over it, and bake it to a fine brown. Mashed potatoes may also be baked as a pudding under meat, or placed under meat while roasting, or they may be mixed with batter instead of flour. POTATOE ROLLS. Boil three pounds of potatoes, bruise and work them with two ounces of butter, and as much milk as will make them pass through a cullender. Take nearly three quarters of a pint of yeast, and half a pint of warm water; mix them with the potatoes, pour the whole upon five pounds of flour, and add some salt. Knead it well: if not of a proper consistence, add a little more warm milk and water. Let it stand before the fire an hour to rise; work it well, and make it into rolls. Bake them about half an hour, in an oven not quite so hot as for bread. The rolls will eat well, toasted and buttered. POTATOE SNOW. The whitest sort of potatoes must be selected, and free from spots. Set them over the fire in cold water; when they begin to crack, strain off the water, and put them into a clean stewpan by the side of the fire till they are quite dry, and fall to pieces. Rub them through a wire sieve on the dish they are to be sent up in, and do not disturb them afterwards. POTATOE SOUP. Cut a pound and a half of gravy beef into thin slices, chop a pound of potatoes, and an onion or two, and put them into a kettle with three quarts of water, half a pint of blue peas, and two ounces of rice. Stew these till the gravy is quite drawn from the meat, strain it off, take out the beef, and pulp the other ingredients through a coarse sieve. Add the pulp to the soup, cut in two or three roots of celery, simmer in a clean saucepan till this is tender, season with pepper and salt, and serve it up with fried bread cut into it. POTATOE STARCH. Raw potatoes, in whatever condition, constantly afford starch, differing only in quality. The round grey or red produce the most, affording about two ounces of starch to a pound of pulp. The process is perfectly easy. Peel and wash a pound of full grown potatoes, grate them on a bread grater into a deep dish, containing a quart of clear water. Stir it well up, then pour it through a hair sieve, and leave it ten minutes to settle, till the water is quite clear. Then pour off the water, and put a quart of fresh water to it; stir it up, let it settle, and repeat this till the water is quite clear. A fine white powder will at last be found at the bottom of the vessel. The criterion of this process being completed, is the purity of the water that comes from it after stirring it up. Lay the powder on a sheet of paper in a hair sieve to dry, either in the sun or before the fire, and it is ready for use. Put into a well stopped bottle, it will keep good for many months. If this be well made, a table-spoonful of it mixed with twice the quantity of cold water, and stirred into a soup or sauce, just before it is taken up, will thicken a pint of it to the consistence of cream. This preparation much resembles the Indian Arrow Root, and is a good substitute for it. It gives a fulness on the palate to gravies and sauces at hardly any expense, and is often used to thicken melted butter instead of flour. Being perfectly tasteless, it will not alter the flavour of the most delicate broth or gruel. POTATOES. The following is allowed to be a superior method of raising potatoes, and of obtaining a larger and finer growth. Dig the earth twelve inches deep, if the soil will admit, and afterwards open a hole about six inches deep, and twelve wide. Fill it with horse dung, or long litter, about three inches thick, and plant a whole potatoe upon it; shake a little more dung over it, and mould up the earth. In this way the whole plot of ground should be planted, placing the potatoes at least sixteen inches apart. When the young shoots make their appearance, they should have fresh mould drawn round them with a hoe; and if the tender shoots are covered, it will prevent the frost from injuring them. They should again be earthed, when the roots make a second appearance, but not covered, as in all probability the season will be less severe. A plentiful supply of mould should be given them, and the person who performs this business should never tread upon the plant, or the hillock that is raised round it, as the lighter the earth is the more room the potatoe will have to expand. In Holland, the potatoes are strangely cultivated, though there are persons who give the preference to Dutch potatoes, supposing them to be of a finer grain than others. They are generally planted in the fields, in rows, nearly as thick as beans or peas, and are suffered to grow up wild and uncultivated, the object being to raise potatoes as small as possible, while the large ones, if such there happen to be, are thrown out and given to the pigs. The mode of cultivation in Ireland, where potatoes are found in the greatest perfection, is far different, and probably the best of all. The round rough red are generally preferred, and are esteemed the most genuine. These are planted in rows, and only just put in beneath the soil. These rows are divided into beds about six feet wide, a path or trench is left between the beds, and as the plants vegetate the earth is dug out of the trench, and thrown lightly over the potatoes. This practice is continued all the summer, the plants are thus nourished by the repeated accession of fresh soil, and the trench as it deepens serves the purpose of keeping the beds dry, and of carrying off the superfluous water. The potatoes are always rich and mealy, containing an unusual quantity of wholesome flour. POTATOES BOILED. The vegetable kingdom scarcely affords any food more wholesome, more easily procured, easily prepared, or less expensive than the potatoe; yet although this most useful vegetable is dressed almost every day, in almost every family,--for one plate of potatoes that comes to table as it should, ten are spoiled. There is however a great diversity in the colour, size, shape, and quality of the potatoe, and some are of a very inferior description. The yellow are better than the white, but the rough red are the most mealy and nutritive. Choose those of a moderate size, free from blemishes, and fresh. It is best to buy them in the mould, as they come from the bed, and they should not be wetted till they are cleaned for cooking. Protect them from the air and frost, by laying in heaps in a dry place, covering them with mats, or burying them in dry sand. If the frost affects them, the life of the vegetable is destroyed, and the potatoe speedily rots. When they are to be dressed, wash them, but do not pare or cut them, unless they are very large. Fill a saucepan half full of potatoes of an equal size, and add as much cold water as will cover them about an inch. Most boiled things are spoiled by having too little water, but potatoes are often spoiled by too much: they should merely be covered, and a little allowed for waste in boiling. Set them on a moderate fire till they boil, then take them off, and place them on the side of the fire to simmer slowly, till they are soft enough to admit a fork. The usual test of their skin cracking is not to be depended on, for if they are boiled fast this will happen when the potatoes are not half done, and the inside is quite hard. Pour off the water the minute the potatoes are done, or they will become watery and sad; uncover the saucepan, and set it at such a distance from the fire as will prevent its burning; the superfluous moisture will then evaporate, and the potatoes become perfectly dry and mealy. This method is in every respect equal to steaming, and the potatoes are dressed in half the time. POTATOES BROILED. Parboil, then slice and broil them. Or parboil, and set them whole on the gridiron over a very slow fire. When thoroughly done, send them up with their skins on. This method is practised in many Irish families. POTATOES IN CREAM. Half boil some potatoes, drain and peel them nicely, and cut into neat pieces. Put them into a stewpan with some cream, fresh butter, and salt, of each a proportion to the quantity of potatoes; or instead of cream, put some good gravy, with pepper and salt. Stew them very gently, and be careful to prevent their breaking. POTATOES FRIED. If they are whole potatoes, first boil them nearly enough, and then put them into a stewpan with a bit of butter, or some nice clean beef drippings. To prevent their burning, shake them about till they are brown and crisp, and then drain them from the fat. It would be an elegant improvement, to flour and dip them in the yolk of an egg previous to frying, and then roll them in fine sifted bread crumbs: they would then deserve to be called potatoes full dressed.--If to be fried in slices or shavings, peel some large potatoes, slice them about a quarter of an inch thick, or cut them in shavings round and round, as in peeling a lemon. Dry them well in a clean cloth, and fry them in lard or dripping. Take care that the fat and the fryingpan are both perfectly clean. Put the pan on a quick fire; as soon as the lard boils, and is still, put in the potatoe slices, and keep moving them till they are crisp. Take them up and lay them to drain on a sieve, and then send them to table with a very little salt sprinkled over.--To fry cold potatoes, put a bit of clean dripping into a fryingpan. When melted, slice in the potatoes with a little pepper and salt; set them on the fire, and keep them stirring. When quite hot, they are ready. This is a good way of re-dressing potatoes, and making them palatable. POTATOES MASHED. When the potatoes are thoroughly boiled, drain and dry them well, and pick out every speck. Rub them through a cullender into a clean stewpan: to a pound of potatoes allow half an ounce of butter, and a spoonful of milk. Mix it up well, but do not make it too moist. After Lady day, when potatoes are getting old and specked, and also in frosty weather, this is the best way of dressing them. If potatoes are to be mashed with onions, boil the onions, and pass them through a sieve. Mix them with the potatoes, in such a proportion as is most approved. POTATOES PRESERVED. To keep potatoes from the frost, lay them up in a dry store room, and cover them with straw, or a linen cloth. If this be not convenient, dig a trench three or four feet deep, and put them in as they are taken up. Cover them with the earth taken out of the trench, raise it up in the middle like the roof of a house, and cover it with straw so as to carry off the rain. Better still if laid above ground, and covered with a sufficient quantity of mould to protect them from the frost, as in this case they are less likely to be injured by the wet. Potatoes may also be preserved by suffering them to remain in the ground, and digging them up in the spring of the year, as they are wanted. POTATOES ROASTED. Choose them nearly of a size, wash and dry the potatoes, and put them in a Dutch oven, or cheese toaster. Take care not to place them too near the fire, or they will burn on the outside before they are warmed through. Large potatoes will require two hours to roast them properly, unless they are previously half boiled. When potatoes are to be roasted under meat, they should first be half boiled, drained from the water, and placed in the pan under the meat. Baste them with some of the dripping, and when they are browned on one side, turn and brown them on the other. Send them up round the meat, or in a small dish. POTATOES SCALLOPED. Having boiled and mashed the potatoes, butter some clean scallop shells, or pattipans, and put in the potatoes. Smooth them on the top, cross a knife over them, strew on a few fine bread crumbs, sprinkle them a little with melted butter from a paste brush, and then set them in a Dutch oven. When they are browned on the top, take them carefully out of the shells, and brown the other side. POTATOES STEAMED. The potatoes must be well washed, but not pared, and put into the steamer when the water boils. Moderate sized potatoes will require three quarters of an hour to do them properly. They should be taken up as soon as they are done enough, or they will become watery: peel them afterwards. POTTED BEEF. Take two pounds of lean beef, rub it with saltpetre, and let it lie one night. Then lay on common salt, and cover it with water four days in a small pan. Dry it with a cloth, season it with black pepper, lay it into as small a pan as will hold it, cover it with coarse paste, but put in no liquor, and bake it five hours in a very cool oven. When cold, pick out the strings and fat. Beat the meat very fine, with a quarter of a pound of fine butter just warm, but not oiled, and as much of the gravy as will make it into a paste. Put it into very small pots, and cover them with clarified butter.--Another way. Take beef that has been dressed, either boiled or roasted; beat it in a mortar with some pepper and salt, a few cloves, grated nutmeg, and a little fine butter just warm. This eats as well as the former, but the colour is not so fine. It is however a good way for using the remains of a large joint. POTTED BIRDS. Having cleaned them nicely, rub every part well with a seasoning of white pepper and salt, mace and allspice in fine powder. Put them in a pan, lay on some butter, cover it with a paste of coarse flour, and a paper tied closely over. When baked and grown cold, cut them into pieces proper for helping, pack them close into a large potting-pan, and leave as little space as possible to receive the butter. Cover them with butter, and one third less will be wanted than when the birds are done whole. POTTED CHEESE. Cut and pound four ounces of Cheshire cheese, one ounce and a half of fine butter, a tea-spoonful of white powdered sugar, a little bit of mace, and a glass of white wine. Press it down in a deep pot. POTTED DAMSONS. Weigh the damsons, and wipe them dry one by one, allowing one pound of fine sugar to three pounds of fruit. Spread a little of the sugar at the bottom of the jar, then a layer of fruit, and so on till the jar is full. Then add three or four spoonfuls of water, tie it down close, and put it several times into a cool oven. POTTED DRIPPING. Boil six pounds of good beef dripping in soft water, strain it into a pan, and let it stand to cool. Take off the hard fat, scrape off the gravy, and repeat it several times. When the fat is cold and hard, put it into a saucepan with six bay leaves, six cloves, half a pound of salt, and a quarter of a pound of whole pepper. Let the fat be entirely melted; and when it has cooled a little, strain it through a sieve into the pot, and tie it down. Turn the pot upside down, that no rats or mice may get at it, and it will keep a long time, and make good puff paste, or crust for puddings. POTTED HARE. An old hare will do well for this purpose, likewise for soup and pie. After seasoning it, bake it with butter. When cold, take the meat from the bones, and beat it in a mortar. If not high enough, add salt, mace, pepper, and a piece of fresh butter melted in a spoonful or two of gravy that came from the hare. When well mixed, put it into small pots, and cover it with butter. The legs and back should be baked at the bottom of the jar, to keep them moist, and the bones be put over them. POTTED HERRINGS. Scale, clean, and season them well. Bake them in a pan with spice, bay leaves, and some butter. When cold, lay them in a potting pot, and cover them over with butter. They are very fine for a supper dish. POTTED LOBSTERS. Half boil them, pick out the meat, cut it into small pieces, season with mace, white pepper, nutmeg, and salt. Press it close into a pot, and cover it with butter; bake it half an hour, and then put in the spawn. When cold take out the lobster, and put it into pots with a little of the butter. Beat the rest of the butter in a mortar, with some of the spawn, mix the coloured butter with as much as will be sufficient to cover the pots, and strain it. Cayenne may be added, if approved.--Another way. Take out the meat as whole as possible, split the tail, and remove the gut; and if the inside be not watery, it may be added. Season with mace, nutmeg, white pepper, salt, and a clove or two, in the finest powder. Lay a little fine butter at the bottom of the pan, and the lobster smooth over it, with bay leaves between; cover it with butter, and bake it gently. When done, pour the whole on the bottom of a sieve; and with a fork lay the pieces into potting pots, some of each sort, with the seasoning about it. When cold, pour clarified butter over, but not hot. It will be good the next day; but if highly seasoned, and well covered with butter, it will keep some time. Potted lobster may be used cold, or as a fricassee, with a cream sauce. It then looks very nicely, and eats well, especially if there is spawn. Mackarel, herrings, and trout, are good potted in the same way. POTTED MACKEREL. Clean, season, and bake them in a pan with spice, bay leaves, and some butter. When cold, lay them in a pot for potting, and cover them over with butter. POTTED MOOR GAME. Pick, singe, and wash the birds nicely. Dry and season them pretty high, inside and out, with pepper, mace, nutmeg, allspice, and salt. Pack them in as small a pot as will hold them, cover them with butter, and bake in a very slow oven. When cold, take off the butter, dry them from the gravy, and put one bird into each pot, which should just fit. Add as much more butter as will cover them, but take care that it be not oiled. The best way to melt it is, by warming it in a bason placed in a bowl of hot water. POTTED PARTRIDGE. Clean them nicely, and season with mace, allspice, white pepper, and salt, all in fine powder. Rub every part well, then lay the breast downwards in a pan, and pack the birds as close as possible. Put a good deal of butter on them, cover the pan with a paste of coarse flour and a paper over, tie it close and bake it. When cold, put the birds into pots, and cover them with butter. The butter that has covered potted things will serve for basting, or for paste for meat pies. POTTED PIGEONS. Let them be quite fresh, clean them carefully, and season them with salt and pepper. Lay them close in a small deep pan; for the smaller the surface, and the closer they are packed, the less butter will be wanted. Cover them with butter, then with very thick paper tied down, and bake them. When cold, put them dry into pots that will hold two or three in each, and pour butter over them, using that which was baked in part. If they are to be kept, the butter should be laid pretty thick over them. If pigeons were boned, and then put in an oval form into the pot, they would lie closer, and require less butter. They may be stuffed with a fine forcemeat made with veal, bacon, and the other ingredients, and then they will eat very fine. If a high flavour is preferred, add mace, allspice, and a little cayenne, before baking. POTTED RABBITS. Cut up two or three young but full-grown rabbits, and take off the leg bones at the thigh. Pack them as closely as possible in a small pan, after seasoning them with pepper, salt, mace, allspice, and cayenne, all in very fine powder. Make the top as smooth as possible. Keep out the heads and the carcase bones, but take off the meat about the neck. Put in a good deal of butter, and bake the whole gently. Keep it two days in the pan, then shift it into small pots, with some additional butter. When a rabbit is to be blanched, set it on the fire with a small quantity of cold water, and let it boil. It is then to be taken out immediately, and put into cold water for a few minutes. POTTED SALMON. Scale and wipe a large piece of salmon, but do not wash it. Salt it, and let it lie till the salt is melted and drained from it; then season it with pounded mace, cloves, and whole pepper. Lay in a few bay leaves, put it close into a pan, cover it over with butter, and bake it. When well done, drain it from the gravy, put it into pots to keep, and when cold cover it with clarified butter. Any kind of firm fish may be potted in the same manner. POTTED SHRIMPS. When boiled, take them out of the skins, and season them with salt, white pepper, and a very little mace and cloves. Press them into a pot, set it in the oven ten minutes, and when cold lay on butter. POTTED TROUT. Scale and draw out the entrails of the fish without opening the belly, give them a wash, and let them drain from the water. Season the fish well with salt, pepper, cloves, mace, and ginger. Lay them into a broad pan in two layers, cover them with butter, and then with paper. Lay some sticks across the pan to keep the paper up. Bake them moderately, then take them out and drain them. Put them into pots in two layers, and fill up the pots with clarified butter, as cool as it can be to run properly. Any other fish may be potted in the same way. POTTED VEAL. Cold fillet makes the finest potted veal, or it may be done as follows. Season a large slice of the fillet before it is dressed, with some mace, peppercorns, and two or three cloves. Lay it close into a potting pan that will but just hold it, fill the pan up with water, and bake it three hours. Then pound it in a mortar, and flavour it with salt. In pounding, put to it a little of the baked gravy, if the meat is to be eaten soon; otherwise only a little butter just melted. When done, cover it over with butter. To pot veal or chicken with ham, pound some cold veal or the white of a chicken, seasoned as above, and place layers of it with layers of ham pounded, or rather shred. Press down each, and cover the whole with clarified butter. POTTED VENISON. If the venison be stale, rub it with vinegar, dry it with a cloth, and rub it well with red wine. Season it with pepper, salt, and mace, and put it into a jar. Pour over it half a pint of red wine, lay in a pound of butter, and bake it tender. When it is done, clean it from the bones and skin, and beat it in a marble mortar with the fat and gravy. Press it hard into the pots, and pour clarified butter over it. POULTICES. Common poultice is best made of white bread, put into boiling water till it is of a proper thickness. Then let it boil, and add a bit of lard, or a little sweet oil. Water answers the purpose better than milk, as the poultice thus made will retain the moisture longer.--A poultice to ripen tumours or swellings, should consist of two ounces of white lily roots, half a pound of figs, and two ounces of meal or bean flour. These are to be boiled in water till it comes to a proper consistence; the poultice is then spread on a thick cloth, applied warm, and shifted as often as it grows dry.--Carrot poultice is made of clean grated carrots mixed with water, so as to form a soft pulp. This is an excellent poultice to ease pain arising from a sore; it not only cleanses it, but takes off the offensive smell which generally attends such complaints. It also affords great relief in cancers, and should be changed twice a day. POULTRY. Previously to their being dressed, every description of game and poultry requires to be carefully picked, and neatly trussed; every plug should be removed, and the hair nicely singed with white paper. In drawing poultry, care must be taken not to break the gall bag, for no washing will take off the bitter where it has touched. In dressing wild fowl, a brisk clear fire must be kept up, that they may be done of a fine yellow brown, but so as to leave the gravy in: the fine flavour is lost if done too much. Tame fowls require more roasting, and are longer in heating through than others. All sorts should be continually basted, that they may be served up with a froth, and appear of a fine colour. A large fowl will take three quarters of an hour, a middling one half an hour, and a small one, or a chicken, twenty minutes. The fire must be very quick and clear, before any fowls are put down. A capon will take from half an hour to thirty-five minutes, a goose an hour, wild ducks a quarter of an hour, pheasants twenty minutes, a small stuffed turkey an hour and a quarter, turkey poults twenty minutes, grouse a quarter of an hour, quails ten minutes, and partridges about twenty-five minutes. A hare will take nearly an hour, and the hind part requires most heat. Pigs and geese require a brisk fire, and quick turning. Hares and rabbits must be well attended to, and the extremities brought to the quick part of the fire, to be done equally with the backs. POULTRY YARD. In the rearing of poultry, care should be taken to choose a fine large breed, or the ends of good management may be defeated. The Dartford sort is generally approved, but it is difficult to say which is to be preferred, if they be but healthy and vigorous. The black sort are very juicy, but as their legs are so much discoloured, they are not well adapted for boiling. Those hens are usually preferred for setting, which have tufts of feathers on their head; those that crow are not considered so profitable. Some fine young fowls should be reared every year, to keep up a stock of good breeders, and bad layers and careless nurses should be excluded. The best age for a setting hen is from two to five years, and it is necessary to remark which among them are the best breeders. Hens set twenty days, and convenient places should be provided for their laying, which will also serve for setting and hatching. A hen house should be large and high, should be frequently cleaned out, and well secured from the approach of vermin, or the eggs will be sucked, and the fowls destroyed. Hens must not be disturbed while sitting, for if frightened, they are apt to forsake their nests. Wormwood and rue should be planted about their houses; some of the former should occasionally be boiled, and sprinkled about the floor, which should not be paved, but formed of smooth earth. The windows of the house should be open to the rising sun, and a hole left at the door to let in the smaller fowls; the larger may be let in and out by opening the door. There should be a small sliding board to shut down when the fowls are gone to roost, to prevent the ravages of vermin, and a strong door and lock should be added, to secure the poultry from thieves and robbers. Let the hens lay some time before they are allowed to set, the proper time for which will be from the end of February to the beginning of May. Broods of chickens are hatched all through the summer, but those that come out very late require care till they have gained sufficient strength. Feed the hens well during the time of laying, and give them oats occasionally. If the eggs of any other sort are put under a hen with some of her own, observe to add her own as many days after the others as there is a difference in the length of their setting. A turkey and duck set thirty days, the hen only twenty. Choose large clear eggs to put her upon, and such a number as she can properly cover; about ten or twelve are quite sufficient. If the eggs be very large, they sometimes contain a double yolk, and in that case neither will be productive. When some of the chickens are hatched, long before the others, it may be necessary to keep them in a basket of wool till the others come forth. The day after they are hatched, give them some crumbs of white bread or grots soaked in milk, which are very nourishing. As soon as they have gained a little strength, feed them with curd, cheese parings cut small, or any soft food, but nothing that is sour, and provide them with clean water twice a day. Keep the hen under a pen till the young have strength to follow her about, which will be in two or three weeks; and be sure to feed the hen well. Poultry in general should be fed as nearly as possible at the same hour of the day, and in the same place, as this will be the surest way of collecting them together. Potatoes boiled in a little water, so as to be dry and mealy, and then cut, and wetted with skim milk that is not sour, will form an agreeable food for poultry, and young turkies will thrive much on it. Grain should however be given occasionally, or the constant use of potatoe food will make their flesh soft and insipid. The food of fowls goes first into the crop, which softens it; it then passes into the gizzard, which by constant friction macerates it; this is facilitated by small stones which are generally found there, and which help to digest the food. If a setting hen be troubled with vermin, let her be well washed with a decoction of white lupins. The pip in fowls is occasioned by drinking dirty water, or taking filthy food. The general symptom is a white thin scale on the tongue, which should be pulled off with the finger; afterwards rub the tongue with a little salt, and the disorder will be removed.--GEESE require a somewhat different management. They generally breed once in a year; but if well kept, they will frequently hatch twice within that period. Three of these birds are usually allotted to a gander; if there were more, the eggs would be rendered abortive. The quantity of eggs to be placed under each goose while setting, is about a dozen or thirteen. While brooding, they should be well fed with corn and water, which must be placed near them, so that they may eat at pleasure. The ganders should never be excluded from their company, because they are then instinctively anxious to watch over and guard their own geese. The nests of geese should be made of straw, and so confined that the eggs may not roll out, as the geese turn them every day. When they are nearly hatched, it is proper to break the shell near the back of the young gosling, as well for the purpose of admitting the air, as to enable it to make its escape at the proper time. To fatten young geese, the best way is to coop them up in a dark narrow place, where they are to be fed with ground malt mixed with milk; or if milk be scarce, with barley meal mashed up with water. A less expensive way will be to give them boiled oats, with either duck's meat or boiled carrots; and as they are very fond of variety, these may be given them alternately. They will then become fat in a few weeks, and their flesh will acquire a fine flavour. In order to fatten stubble geese at Michaelmas time, the way is to turn them out on the wheat stubble, or those pastures that grow after wheat has been harvested. They are afterwards to be pent up, and fed with ground malt mixed with water. Boiled oats or wheat may occasionally be substituted.--DUCKS are fattened in the same manner, only they must be allowed a large pan of water to dabble in. Those kept for breeders, should have the convenience of a large pond; and such as have their bills a little turned up will generally be found the most prolific. In the spring of the year, an additional number of ducks may be reared by putting the eggs under the care of the hen, who will hatch them as her own brood.--TURKIES, early in the spring, will often wander to a distance in order to construct their nest, where the hen deposits from fourteen to seventeen eggs, but seldom produces more than one brood in a season. Great numbers are reared in the northern counties, and driven by hundreds to the London market by means of a shred of scarlet cloth fastened to the end of a pole, which from their antipathy to this colour serves as a whip. Turkies being extremely delicate fowls, are soon injured by the cold: hence it is necessary, soon after they are hatched, to force them to swallow one whole peppercorn each, and then restore them to the parent bird. They are also liable to a peculiar disorder, which often proves fatal in a little time. On inspecting the rump feathers, two or three of their quills will be found to contain blood; but on drawing them out, the chickens soon recover, and afterwards require no other care than common poultry. Young turkies should be fed with crumbs of bread and milk, eggs boiled hard and chopped, or with common dock leaves cut fine, and mixed with fresh butter-milk. They also require to be kept in the sunshine or a warm place, and guarded from the rain, or from running among the nettles. They are very fond of the common garden peppercress, or cut-leaved cress, and should be supplied with as much of it as they will eat, or allowed to pick it off the bed. In Norfolk they are fed with curds and chopped onions, also with buck wheat, and are literally crammed with boluses of barley meal till their crops are full, which perhaps may account for the superior excellence of the turkies in that part of the kingdom. POUNCE. This article, used in writing, is made of gum sandaric, powdered and sifted very fine; or an equal quantity of rosin, burnt alum, and cuttle fishbone well dried, and mixed together. This last is of a superior quality. POUND CAKE. Beat a pound of butter to a cream, and mix with it the whites and yolks of eight eggs beaten apart. Have ready warm by the fire, a pound of flour, and the same of sifted sugar. Mix them and a few cloves, a little nutmeg and cinnamon, in fine powder together; then by degrees work the dry ingredients into the butter and eggs. It must be well beaten for a full hour, adding a glass of wine, and some carraway seeds. Butter a pan, and bake it a full hour in a quick oven. The above proportions, leaving out four ounces of the butter, and the same of sugar, make a less luscious cake, but a very pleasant one. POUNDED CHEESE. Cut a pound of good mellow cheese into thin slices, add to it two or three ounces of fresh butter, rub them well together in a mortar till quite smooth. When cheese is dry, and for those whose digestion is feeble, this is the best way of eating it; and spread on bread, it makes an excellent supper. The flavour of this dish may be encreased by pounding it with curry powder, ground spice, black cayenne, and a little made mustard; or it may be moistened with a glass of sherry. If pressed down hard in a jar, and covered with clarified butter, it will keep for several days in cool weather. PRAWNS AND SHRIMPS. When fresh they have a sweet flavour, are firm and stiff, and of a bright colour. Shrimps are of the prawn kind, and may be judged by the same rules. PRAWN SOUP. Boil six whitings and a large eel, in as much water as will cover them, after being well cleaned. Skim them clean, and put in whole pepper, mace, ginger, parsley, or onion, a little thyme, and three cloves, and boil the whole to a mash. Pick fifty crawfish, or a hundred prawns; pound the shells, and a small roll. But first boil them with a little water, vinegar, salt, and herbs. Put this liquor over the shells in a sieve, and then pour the soup, clear from the sediment. Chop a lobster, and add this to it, with a quart of good beef gravy. Add also the tails of the crawfish, or the prawns, with some flour and butter. The seasoning may be heightened, if approved. PRESERVES. These can never be done to perfection, without plenty of good sugar. Fruits may be kept with small quantities of sugar, but then they must boil so long that there is as much waste in the boiling away, as some more sugar added at first would have cost, and the quality of the preserve will neither be so proper for use, nor of so good an appearance, as with a larger proportion of sugar, and moderate boiling. Fruits are often put up without any sugar at all, but if they do not ferment and spoil, which is very common, they must have a good deal of sugar added to them when used, and thus the risk of spoiling seems hardly compensated by any saving. The only real economy that can be exercised in this case is, not to make any preserves at all. The most perfect state in which fruits in general can be taken for preserving is, just when they are full ripe. Sooner than this they have not acquired their best qualities, and if they hang long after it they begin to lose them. Some persons will delay the doing them, under an idea that the longer they hang the less sugar they require. But it is a false economy that would lose the perfection of the fruit to save some of the sugar, and probably quite unfounded in fact, as all things will naturally keep the best that are taken at their highest perfection, and hence do with as little sugar then as at any time. PRESERVED CUCUMBERS. Choose such as are most free from seed; some should be small to preserve whole, and others large to cut in pieces. Put them into a jar, with strong salt and water, and a cabbage leaf to keep them down, and set them in a warm place till they turn yellow. Then wash and set them over the fire in fresh water, with a little salt, and a fresh cabbage leaf over them; cover the pan close, but they must not be boiled. If not of a fine green, change the water, cover them as before, and make them hot; when of a good green, take them off the fire, and let them stand till cold. Cut the large cucumbers in quarters, and take out the seeds and pulp; put them into cold water for two days, and change the water twice each day. Place on the fire a pound of refined sugar, with half a pint of water; skim it clean, put in the rind of a lemon, and an ounce of ginger with the outside scraped off. When the syrup is pretty thick take it off, and when cold wipe the cucumbers dry, and put them in. Boil the syrup every two or three days, continuing to do so for three weeks, and make it stronger if necessary. Be sure to put the syrup to the cucumbers quite cold, cover them close, and keep them in a dry place. PRESERVED OYSTERS. Open the oysters carefully, so as not to cut them, except in dividing the gristle which attaches the shells. Put them into a mortar, and add about two drams of salt to a dozen oysters. Pound and then rub them through the back of a hair sieve, and put them into the mortar again, with as much well-dried flour as will make them into a paste. Roll it out several times, and at last flour and roll it out the thickness of a half crown, and divide it into pieces about an inch square. Lay them in a Dutch oven, that they may dry gently without being burnt; turn them every half hour, and when they begin to dry, crumble them. They will take about four hours to dry, then pound them fine, sift and put them into bottles, and seal them down. To make half a pint of oyster sauce, put one ounce of butter into a stewpan, with three drams of oyster powder, and six spoonfuls of milk. Set it on a slow fire, stir it till it boils, and season it with salt. This powder, if made of plump juicy natives, will abound with the flavour of the fish; and if closely corked, and kept in a dry place, will remain good for some time. It is also an agreeable substitute when oysters are out of season, and is a valuable addition to the list of fish sauces. It is equally good with boiled fowl, or rump steak; and sprinkled on bread and butter, it makes a very good sandwich. PRESERVED WALNUTS. Put the walnuts into cold water, let them boil five minutes, strain off the water, and change it three times. Dry the nuts in a cloth, and weigh them; to every pound of nuts allow a pound of sugar, and stick a clove in each. Put them into a jar with some rose vinegar; boil up a syrup, with a pint of water and half a pound of sugar, and pour over them. Let them stand three or four days, and boil up the syrup again. Repeat this three times, and at last give the walnuts a good scald, and let them remain in the syrup. PRESERVATION OF BUTTER. Butter, as it is generally cured, does not keep well for any length of time, without spoiling or becoming rancid. The following method of preserving butter, supposing it to have been previously well made, is recommended as the best at present known. Reduce separately to fine powder in a dry mortar, two pounds of the whitest common salt, one pound of saltpetre, and one pound of lump sugar. Sift these ingredients one above another, on two sheets of paper joined together, and then mix them well with the hands, or with a spatula. Preserve the whole in a covered jar, placed in a dry situation. When required to be used, one ounce of this composition is to be proportioned to every pound of butter, and the whole is to be well worked into the mass: the butter is then to be packed in casks in the usual way. Butter cured with this mixture will be of a rich marrowy consistence, and will never acquire that brittle hardness so common to salt butter. It has been known to keep for three years, as sweet as it was at first; but it must be observed, that butter thus cured requires to stand at least three weeks or a month before it is used. If it be opened sooner, the salts are not sufficiently blended with it, and sometimes the coolness of the nitre will then be perceived, which totally disappears afterwards. Cleanliness in this article is indispensable, but it is not generally suspected, that butter made or kept in vessels or troughs lined with lead, or put into glazed earthenware pans, is too apt to be contaminated with particles of that deleterious metal. If the butter is in the least degree rancid, this can hardly fail to take place; and it cannot be doubted, that during the decomposition of the salts, the glazing is acted upon. It is better therefore to use tinned vessels for mixing the preservative with the butter, and to pack it either in wooden vessels, or in stone jars which are vitrified throughout, and do not require any inside glazing. PRESSED BEEF. Salt a piece of the brisket, a thin part of the flank, or the tops of the ribs, with salt and saltpetre five days. Boil it gently till extremely tender, put it under a great weight, or in a cheesepress, and let it remain till perfectly cold. It is excellent for sandwiches, or a cold dish. PRIMROSE VINEGAR. Boil four pounds of moist sugar in ten quarts of water for about a quarter of an hour, and take off the scum. Then pour the liquor on six pints of primroses, add some fresh yeast before it is quite cold, and let it work all night in a warm place. When the fermentation is over, close up the barrel, and still keep it in a warm place. PRINCE OF WALES'S PUDDING. Put half a pound of loaf sugar, and half a pound of fresh butter, into a saucepan; set it over the fire till both are melted, stirring it well, as it is very liable to burn, but do not let it boil. Pour this into an earthen pan, grate the rind of a lemon into it, and leave it to cool. Have ready two sponge biscuits soaked in a quarter of a pint of cream, bruise them fine and stir them into the sugar and butter. Beat the yolks of ten, and the whites of five eggs well with a little salt; squeeze and strain the juice of the lemon into them, and mix these well in with the other ingredients. Lay a puff paste into the dish, strew it with pieces of candied lemon peel, put in the pudding, and bake it three quarters of an hour in a moderate oven. Sift fine sugar over it, before it is sent to the table. PROVISIONS. The first of all requisites for human sustenance is Bread, which with great propriety is denominated 'the staff of life.' The next to this is Meat, which though not alike essential, is of great importance in strengthening and invigorating the human frame. The former of these constituting the principal food of great numbers, and a part of the sustenance of all people, it is highly necessary to attend carefully to the ingredients of which it is composed, and to the manner in which it is prepared. A person's health must inevitably be injured by bad corn and flour, and even by what is good, when improperly prepared. The best flour is often made into bad bread by not suffering it to rise sufficiently; by not kneading it well, by not baking it enough, and by keeping it too long. Mixing other substances with the flour also injures the quality of the bread in a very high degree. These faults have a bad effect on those who generally eat such bread, but the injury is still more serious to children and weakly persons. Where the flour is corrupted, the use of it in every other article of food, will of course be as unwholesome as in that of bread. The mere exposure to the air will evaporate and deaden all flour, though the grain may never have passed through any fermentation or digestion; as in the instance of wheat flour, the strongest and the best of any other. For this reason, flour which has been ground five or six weeks, or longer, though it be kept close in sacks or barrels, will not make so sweet a loaf, nor one so moist and pleasant, as that which is newly ground. Hence all bread made in London eats drier and harsher than bread in the country, which is made within a few days after the grinding of the wheat. All grains which are ground, ought therefore to be used as soon afterwards as possible. But this is not the most profitable to the dealers in meal, as meal newly ground will not part so freely from the bran, nor consequently yield so much flour, as when it lies a certain time after the grinding; for this disposes the branny and floury parts to give way from each other, and thus they separate easier and more completely than when dressed immediately. The flour also then looks finer, but the bread made of such meal is not of so good a quality as that made of meal fresh ground. All sorts of grain kept entire, will remain sound and good for a long time: but flour will in a comparatively short time, corrupt, and generate worms. This therefore requires peculiar attention, or much loss and injury may be sustained. The health of mankind depends in great measure on the good or bad preparation of food, and on the purity of all sorts of provisions: and grain being the most essential article of sustenance, very much depends on the conduct of millers, bakers, and mealmen. Those who acquit themselves honestly in these vocations are entitled to a fair profit, and the goodwill of their fellow-men: but such as betray the confidence reposed in them, by corrupting or withholding it when needed, are undoubtedly amongst the worst enemies of mankind. So far as health is concerned, bread made with leaven is preferable to that made with yeast; the sour quality of leaven is more agreeable to the ferment of the stomach than yeast; it is also easier of digestion, and more cleansing. It opens the vessels, and gives a healthy appetite; and a little use will make it familiar and pleasant to the eater. This bread however seldom agrees with weak stomachs, especially such as are liable to acidity and heartburn. One of the best kinds of bread for sickly people, is made of wheaten flour, the coarse or husky bran being taken out, but not finely dressed; otherwise it would be dry, and obstructing to the stomach. The inner skin or branny parts of wheat contain a moisty quality, which is opening and cleansing, while the fine floury parts afford more nourishment. Bread therefore of a middling quality is the wholesomest, and the best. Mixing in much salt is injurious, from the change it occasions in bread of every description. Finding no matter liable to putrefaction to work on, it acts upon the best qualities of the flour, which it alters and corrupts. Hence, when bread is intended to be kept a considerable time, as biscuits for a long voyage, no salt is put into it. But bread for common use will admit of a moderate portion of salt. It may be remarked however, that bread, notwithstanding it is so excellent with meat, milk, and vegetables, is not so substantial and nourishing as flour, when prepared in porridges and other articles. To have good bread, it should not be baked in too close an oven, but a free passage should be left for the air. The best way is to make it into thin cakes, and bake them on a stone, which many in the northern counties use for that purpose, making a wood fire under it. This sort of bread is sweeter, of a more innocent taste, and far easier of digestion, than bread baked the common way in ovens. In the same manner cakes may be made of any kind of grain, such as rye, oats, or barley, and will be found more wholesome and nourishing, and more agreeable to nature, than bread made in the usual manner. Oat cakes are often preferred to those made of wheat flour, as they tend to open the body, and are rather warmer, to cold and weak stomachs. Barley is not so nourishing, and requires more preparation to render it digestible, than the other kinds of grain. Cakes, biscuits, muffins, buns, crumpets, and small bread, made with eggs, butter, or sugar, seldom agree with delicate persons. Biscuits made without leaven, yeast, butter, or sugar, are more difficult of digestion, than bread when it is fermented. Where bread is fixed to a standard weight and price, bakers are very apt to mix alum and pearlash with it, for the purpose of hastening its rising, and of encreasing its weight, by causing it to retain its moisture. If a piece of bread be soaked in water, and turns the juice of a red cabbage into a green colour, it is a proof that it contains an alkali or earthy substance, which is most probably pearlash. It is said that a compound salt is clandestinely sold in London, under the name of baker's salt, and is composed of the above ingredients. When there is reason to suspect that bread is adulterated with alum, it may be detected thus. Cut about a pound of bread into an earthen vessel, pour upon it a quart of boiling water, and let it stand till cold. Strain the liquor off gently through a piece of fine linen, boil it down to about a wine glass full, and set it by to cool. If there be a mixture of alum, it will form itself into crystals. The observance of the following rules may be considered as essential to the making of good bread. The corn must be sound and clean, and newly ground, and not contaminated with any extraneous mixtures. To make it easy of digestion it should be leavened, and moderately seasoned with salt. Let it rise for several hours, and be well wrought and kneaded with the hands. It must be well baked, but neither over nor under-done. If baked too little, the bread will be heavy, clammy, and unwholesome: if too much, its strength and goodness will be consumed. In general, bread should not be eaten hot; it is then more viscid, and harder of digestion. Bread is in its best state the first and second day after it is baked. Economical bread, or bread of an inferior quality, depraved by other mixtures, has frequently been recommended to poor people in times of scarcity; but except where absolute necessity exists, this is a kind of policy that cannot be too severely condemned. The labouring classes, whose dependence is almost entirely upon bread, ought to be provided with what is of the purest and most nutricious quality, and at a reasonable price. They might then live upon their labour, and in health and activity would feel that labour itself was sweet. If potatoes, rice, or any other ingredients are to be mixed with the bread, to lower its nutricious qualities, let it not be offered to the labourer; but if economy of this kind be required, let it be exercised by those whose eyes are standing out with fatness, and to whom a sparer diet might be beneficial.--MEAT in general, as well as all other kinds of food, is nourishing or otherwise, according to its quality, and the manner in which it is prepared. There are peculiar constitutions, or particular diseases and periods of life, when animal food is highly detrimental; and others again, when it is essentially necessary; but it is the general use of it, and not these exceptions, that will be the subject of the following observations. As a part of our habitual diet, the main points to be attended to are, the kinds of animal food, and the modes of dressing it, which are most to be recommended. A choice of meat is desirable, but if the animals subject to this choice be neither sound nor healthy, it is of little consequence which kind is preferred, for they, are alike unwholesome. It is proper therefore to avoid the flesh of all such as are fatted in confinement, or upon pernicious substances, which can never make wholesome food. Oil cakes and rank vegetables, with want of air and exercise, will produce such sort of meat as will shew immediately from its appearance, that it must be unwholesome. Animals may eat rancid fulsome food, and grow fat upon it, and yet the meat they produce may be highly offensive. Hunger and custom will induce the eating of revolting substances, both in the brute and human species; and growing fat is by no means a certain sign of health. On the contrary, it is frequently the symptom of a gross habit, and a tendency to disease. The distinct effects of various kinds of food upon animals, are very obvious in the instance of milch cows. Grass, hay, straw, grains, turnips, and oil cakes, produce milk of such different qualities as must be at once distinguished; and the preference to that where cows are fed upon grass or hay, and next to them straw, appears very decided. The inference would be fair, that it must be the same with respect to flesh, even if it were less obvious than it is. It is an unwise economy, in the management of cows, that withholds from them a sufficient quantity of the best and most nourishing food. If duly appreciated, the quality of milk is even of superior importance to that of flesh, from its general excellence and utility as an article of food. If milk was plentiful and good, the want of meat would in many instances not be felt, and in others, the consumption of it might be lessened with great advantage. To confine cows with a view to increase their supply of milk, is as injurious to the quality of it, as the confinement of animals is in other instances. The over feeding them also with a similar view, is an injurious practice. Cleanliness too is no less essential to keeping them in a wholesome state, than to animals intended to be slaughtered. It is no uncommon effect of confining and cramming animals, that they become diseased in the liver, besides acquiring a general tendency to putridity in their juices and muscular substances, from want of air and exercise, excess of feeding and bad food, and the dirt in which they live. A brute, no more than a human being, can digest above a certain quantity of food, to convert it into actual nourishment; and good chyle can only be produced from wholesome food, cleanliness, air, and exercise. To be well fleshed rather than fat, is the desirable state of animals destined for slaughter. There will always be with this a sufficient proportion of fat; and labouring by artificial means to produce more, is only encreasing that part of animal substance, which from its gross indigestible nature is not proper for human diet, unless in a very limited degree. Venison, which in its domestic state is never fatted like other animals; game, and every wild animal proper for food; possess superior qualities to the tame, from the total contrast in their habits, more than from the food they eat. They have an extensive range in the open air, take much exercise, and choose their own sustenance, the good effects of which are very evident in a short delicate texture of flesh found only in them. Their juices and flavour are more pure, and their fat is far more delicious than that of home-bred animals. The superiority of Welch mutton and Scotch beef is owing to a similar cause, and is still more in point than the former, as a contrast between animals of the same species under different management. The preferences just mentioned are not a mere matter of taste, which might readily be dispensed with, but are founded on more important considerations. A short delicate texture renders the meat more digestible, in a very high degree, than the coarse, heavy, stringy kind of substance produced by the misapplied art of man. A pure animal juice too, is something more than a luxury; for if what we use as food is not pure, neither can our blood nor our juices be so. If we would but be content with unadulterated luxuries, we have them at our command; and provided they are not indulged to excess, are of decided advantage to our health. Supposing all animal flesh to be good of its kind, there is still abundant room for selection and choice. Mutton, beef, venison, game, wild rabbits, fowls, turkies, and various small birds, are preferable to lamb, veal, pork, young pigs, ducks, geese, and tame rabbits. Beef and mutton are much easier of digestion and more nutricious than veal and lamb, especially if not slaughtered before they come to proper maturity. Nothing arrives at perfection under a stated period of growth, and till this is attained it will afford only inferior nutriment. If the flesh of mutton and lamb, beef and veal, are compared, they will be found of a different texture, and the two young meats of a more stringy indivisible nature than the others, which makes them harder of digestion. Neither are their juices so nourishing when digested; as any one at all in the habit of observing what is passing within and about them will readily perceive from their own experience. Lamb and veal leave a craving nausea in the stomach, not perceived after taking other kinds of animal food. Veal broth soon turns sour by standing, owing to the sugar of milk contained in the blood of a calf; and the same change takes place in a weak stomach. Persons in the habit of drinking strong liquors with their meals, cannot competently judge of such an effect; as these liquors harden all kinds of animal food, and therefore little distinction can be perceived amongst them. Pork and young pigs are liable to the same objections as lamb and veal, but in a greater degree; they are fat and luscious, but afford no nutriment. Ducks and geese are of a coarse oily nature, and only fit for very strong stomachs. Tame rabbits are of a closer heavier texture than wild ones, and hence of inferior quality. Pigeons are of a hot nature, and should therefore be used sparingly. Fowls and turkies are of a mild proper nature for food, but the fattening them in confinement is equally prejudicial, as to other animals already mentioned. If left at large, well fed with good barley, and with clean water to drink, they will be little inferior to game. Barley is preferable to barley meal, as retaining all the natural qualities of the grain in greater perfection than when ground; and as these birds are provided with grinders in the gizzard, the concocting their own food is more nourishing and wholesome for them. These, like other animals, should be suffered to attain their full growth, in order to have them in the best state for nutriment. Some parts of birds, and other animals, are hard and viscid, as the head, neck, feet, and tail; the parts about the wings, back, and breast of birds, are in general the most tender, and of the finest flavour. In four-footed animals, the upper part of the leg and shoulder, the back, breast, and long bones of the neck, are generally superior to the rest. The heart and other viscera are nutricious, but hard of digestion, and improper for weak stomachs. The larger an animal is of its kind, the flesh of it will be stronger, and more difficult to digest; the juices also will be more rank than those of smaller ones of the same species, supposing them to have arrived at the same maturity. Animals which abound with fat and oily substances are harder to digest, than those of a drier and more fleshy nature; and to persons who use but little exercise, or have weak stomachs, this kind of food is very improper. Its tendency is to weaken the tone and force of the stomach, the fat and oil being enclosed in little bladders, which are with difficulty broken and separated. Hence fat meat is not so digestible as that of well fed animals, which do not abound with fat. The flesh of very old animals is unwholesome, being hard, dry, sinewy, innutricious, and difficult to digest. Those which are the longest in coming to maturity have the coarsest juices, such as oxen, cows, and boars. These are less tender and digestible than sheep, venison, hares, rabbits, poultry, game, and other birds. In almost all cases, the strong and pungent in flavour are harder to digest than those of a milder nature. The flesh of birds is lighter, drier, and easier of digestion, than that of four-footed animals. A difference also arises from the place of pasturage, from food and exercise. Animals living in high places, refreshed with wholesome winds, and cherished with the warm beams of the sun, where there are no marshes, lakes, or standing waters, are preferable to those living in pools, as ducks and geese, and other kinds of fowl.--FISH is less nourishing than flesh, because it is gross, phlegmatic, cold, and full of watery superfluities: but under certain restrictions, it may be safely used as a part of our general diet. It is unsuitable to cold phlegmatic constitutions, but very well adapted to such as are hot and choleric. The white kinds of fish, which contain neither fat nor oil, are preferable to the rest; such as whitings, turbot, soles, skate, haddock, flounders, smelts, trout, and graylings. These are easier of digestion than salmon, mackarel, eels, lampreys, herrings, or sprats, and therefore more wholesome. Shell-fish, such as oysters, muscles, cockles, crabs, and lobsters, are very far from being easy of digestion, and are particularly improper for invalids, though too commonly imagined to be suitable in such cases. In general it may be observed, that those kinds of fish which are well grown, nourish better than the young and immature. Sea-fish are wholesomer than fresh-water fish: they are of a hotter nature, not so moist, and more approaching to flesh meat. Of all sea and river fish, those are the best which live in rocky places. Next to these, in gravelly or sandy places, in sweet, clear, running water, where there is nothing offensive. Those which live in pools, muddy lakes, marshes, or stagnant water, are bad. Whether sea or river fish, those are the best which are not too large, whose flesh is not hard and dry, but crisp and tender; which taste and smell well, and have many fins and scales. All fresh fish should be eaten hot, and less in quantity than fresh meat. Fish should not be eaten very often, and never after great labour and exercise, nor after eating other solid food. Fish and milk are not proper to be eaten at the same meal, nor should eggs be used with fish, except with salt fish, and that should be well soaked in water before it is dressed. It may be eaten with carrots or parsnips, instead of egg sauce. If salt fish be eaten too often, or without this precaution, it produces gross humours and bad juices in the body; occasions thirst, hoarseness, sharpness in the blood, and other unfavourable symptoms. It is therefore a kind of food which should be used very sparingly, and given only to persons of a strong constitution. All kinds of salted and dried fish are innutricious and unwholesome, and their injurious effects are often visible in the habits of seafaring people. Even prawns and shrimps, if eaten too freely, are known to produce surfeits, which end in St. Anthony's fire.--If proper attention be paid to health, every kind of sustenance intended for the use of man, must be provided in its SEASON; for to every thing there is both time and season, which the wisdom and goodness of providence have pointed out. Every production is the most pure in quality, and of course the most wholesome, when nature has perfected her work, and prepared it for human sustenance. To anticipate her seasons, or to prolong them, is a misapplication of labour, and a perversion of the bounties of providence into secret poisons, to indulge the wanton cravings of a depraved appetite. The properties of animal food in general seem not to restrict the use of it to any particular season, but rather to admit its common use at all times. The only period in which it is less seasonable than at any other, appears to be in hot weather, when animal substances of all kinds are very liable to taint. The profuse supply of vegetables too in the warmer months, seems to lessen the occasion for animal food. Attention should be paid however at all times to the proper season for using the different kinds of animal food, and to the various circumstances that may contribute to its being more or less wholesome. The killing of animals by the easiest means, and not previously abusing them by over-driving, or in any other way, materially affects their fitness for food, and ought therefore to be carefully attended to. The high flavour, or taint in meat, which so many English palates prefer, is in fact the commencement of putrefaction; and of course meat in this state is very improper for food, particularly for persons with any tendency to putrid disorders. At a time when bad fevers prevail, food of this description ought to be generally avoided, as it disposes the blood and juices to receive infection. With respect to grain, its adaptedness to keep the whole year round, evidently denotes that it was intended for constant use. But the recurrence of an annual supply seems to be the voice of nature, forbidding its being kept in ordinary cases to a longer period, especially as new corn is generally preferred to the old. All other vegetables, including fruits, seem designed only for a transient season. Roots, and a few late fruits, have indeed the property of keeping for some months, and may thus provide a store for the winter, when fresh vegetables are less plentiful. Other kinds will not keep without undergoing a culinary process, by which they are rendered less wholesome, however palatable they may be considered. Provisions of almost every description may be preserved from putrefaction by being partially dressed and then closely stopped down, as has been fully demonstrated by Messrs. Donkin and Gamble of Bermondsey, who by means of air-tight canisters are in the habit of preparing all kinds of meat, which will keep perfectly sweet and fresh for a considerable length of time in any climate, and are incomparably better than those preserved in the ordinary way by salting or drying. But however applicable these preserves may be to the purposes of a long voyage, or a foreign expedition, where no fresh supplies can be obtained, they are by no means to be recommended to private families, who enjoy the superior advantages of going to market for fresh provisions. Time, which devours all things, cannot fail to impair, though not immediately, the flavour and other properties of whatever is preserved, in defiance of every precaution against its influence. The appearance and flavour of such articles may not be revolting to us, but if compared with the same things when fresh and well dressed, their inferiority is sufficiently obvious. Pickled salmon is a familiar instance of this kind. It is very generally relished, and often preferred to fresh salmon; yet if brought into comparison, the substance of the one is heavy, that of the other light and elastic. The flavour of the pickled salmon is sophisticated and deadened, if not vapid; that of the other is natural, fresh, and delicate, the pure volatile spirit not being destroyed by improper cookery, or long keeping. Instances of violent surfeits often occur from eating pickled salmon, soused mackarel, and other rich preserves, not from their being in a state of decay, but from the unwholesomeness of their preparation. People acquire tastes indeed, that reconcile them to any thing; that even make them fond of corrupted flavours, such as decayed cheese, tainted meat, and other things of a similar description. Our taste therefore is very likely to betray us into error; and to guard against it, it is necessary to be able to distinguish between what is really wholesome and what is otherwise, for this is rather a matter of judgment than of taste.--A few brief remarks may very properly be added on the important article of MILK, which forms, or ought to form, an essential part of the food of every family, in one shape or another. As far as regards the general properties of milk, it is in season at all times; and by judicious management it might always be supplied in sufficient quantities to become a plentiful source of human sustenance. It is of the best quality however, five or six months after a cow has calved. When she becomes with calf again, her milk will of course fall off, both in quantity and in quality. The impatient greediness of cow-keepers would have calves and milk at the same time, and on this account they seldom allow their dairies a fair interval for keeping up a successive supply of the best milk. To keep cows in the healthiest condition, and their milk consequently in the purest state, they should not be confined in houses, nor in yards, but suffered to go at large in the open fields. They should also be well fed with wholesome provender, and have access to good water. If kept quite clean, by occasionally rubbing them down, and washing their bag, and legs and feet, their health would be promoted, and of course the nutricious quality of the milk. If the comfort and welfare of society were consulted, the higher classes would not slight their dairies for studs of horses, kept more for ostentation than for use. In reference to the same subject, the breaking up of small farms is deeply to be regretted, not only as ruinous to a numerous class of deserving persons, but as depriving the markets and the neighbourhoods of those articles of necessity which their industry produced. It was an object to a small farmer to make the most of his dairy and poultry yard, which to an occupier on a larger scale is regarded as a matter of indifference. The consequence is, there is neither so plentiful a supply of these things, nor are they so good in quality as formerly. The wife of a small farmer attended to her own business, her poultry was brought up at the barn door, and killed when it was sweet and wholesome, while the produce of her dairy redounded to her credit, and afforded ample satisfaction to her customers.--The most judicious choice of food however will avail but little, if the manner of preparing it is not equally judicious. The principal error in cooking lies in overdoing what is intended for the table; the qualities of the meat are then so entirely changed, that it ceases to be nourishing, and becomes hard of digestion. It is literally put into the stomach only to be pressed out of it again by some unnatural exertion, which at last throws the oppressive load into the rest of the system, from whence it will not pass off without leaving some injury behind it. This, frequently repeated, ends at last in acute or chronic diseases, no less certainly than constant friction upon a stone will at length wear it away, though it may be a long time before any impression upon it is perceived. Similar effects arise from drinking, but generally with a more rapid progress, from the extension and collapse of the vessels being more sudden and violent. Plain cookery, in the exact medium between under and over doing, is the point to be attained to render our food salutary. The mixture of a great variety of ingredients should be avoided, for if good in themselves separately, they are often rendered indigestible by being compounded one with another. As we must eat every day, there is opportunity enough for all things in turn, without attempting any unwholesome composition. Much seasoning with spices, contributes to make animal food indigestible. They are much safer when used just before serving up the dish, or by adding them at the time of eating it. Beef and pork long salted, and hams, bacon, tongues, and hung beef, are very indigestible, and particularly improper for weak stomachs, though they will often crave them. Boiled meat is generally preferable to roast meat, for nourishment and digestion. Boiling extracts more of the rank strong juices, and renders it lighter and more diluted. Roasting leaves it fuller of gravy, but it adds to the rigidity of the fibres. The flesh of young animals is best roasted. Fried and broiled meats are difficult to be digested, though they are very nourishing: weak stomachs had better avoid them. Meat pies and puddings cannot be recommended, but strong stomachs may sustain but little inconvenience from them. It is a confined mode of cookery, and the meat therefore is not at all purified of its grossness. When meat pies and puddings are used, they should be moderately seasoned. Baking meat, instead of roasting it, is a worse manner of dressing it, from the closeness of the oven, and the great variety of things often baking at the same time. Stewing is not a good way of dressing meat, unless it is done very carefully. If it is stewed till all the juices are drawn from the meat, the latter becomes quite unfit for food: and if the stewpan be kept close covered, there are the same objections to it as meat pies and puddings. Hashing is a very bad mode of cooking. It is doing over again what has already been done enough, and makes the meat vapid and hard. What would have been good nourishment in the cold meat, is thus totally lost, as the juices, which are all drawn into the gravy, are spoiled by this second cookery, which exposes them too long to the fire. PRUNE PUDDING. Mix four spoonfuls of flour in a quart of milk; add six eggs, two tea-spoonfuls of powdered ginger, a little salt, and a pound of prunes. Tie it in a cloth, and boil it an hour. PRUNE TART. Scald some prunes, take out the stones and break them. Put the kernels into a little cranberry juice, with the prunes and sugar; simmer them together, and when cold, make a tart of the sweetmeat. PRUNING. In pruning wall fruit, care should be taken to cut off all fresh shoots that will not readily bind to the wall; for if any be twisted or bruised in the binding, they will in time decay, and the sap will issue from the place. Vines should not be cut too close to please the eye, as by that means they have sometimes been rendered barren of fruit. Two knots should generally be left on new shoots, which will produce two bunches of grapes, and which are to be cut off at the next pruning. New branches are to be left every year, and some of the old ones must be removed, which will increase the quantity of fruit. PUDDINGS. The only puddings which can with propriety be recommended, as really wholesome diet, are those of the simplest kind, such as are seldom met with except in families in the middle ranks of life. The poor unfortunately cannot get them, and the rich prefer those of a more complex kind, of which the best that can be hoped is, that they will not do much harm. The principal ingredients of common puddings are so mild and salutary, that unless they are over-cooked, or too many of them mixed together, such puddings are generally wholesome. To make them of the best and most nutricious quality, the materials should all be fresh and good of their kind; such as, flour newly ground, new milk, fresh laid eggs, and fresh suet. Millet, sago, tapioca, whole rice, will all keep a considerable time, if put into a dry place. When rice, millet, or sago, are wanted to be used ground, they had better be ground at home for the sake of having them fresh, and the certainty of having them pure. Such a mill as is used for grinding coffee, will grind them extremely well. The whites of eggs should never be used in puddings for children, or persons of weak stomachs, or for those who are any way indisposed, on account of their being indigestible. Omitting them altogether would indeed be attended with no disadvantage. The yolk of an egg alone answers the same purpose, as when the white is used with it. To prove this, let two cups of batter pudding be made, one with the yolk of an egg only, the other with the yolk and white together, and the result will be, that the pudding with the yolk only is quite as light, if not lighter, than the one with the whole egg. In other instances also, of several kinds of puddings, where the whites of eggs have been totally omitted, without at all encreasing the number of eggs, the result has been the same. There is a species of economy practised by good housewives, of making compositions on purpose to use up the whites of eggs which have been left out of any preparation made with eggs. But this is a false economy; for surely it is far better to reject as food what is known to be injurious, and to find other uses for it, than to make the human stomach the receptacle for offal. Economy would be much more judiciously exerted in retrenching superfluities, than exercised in this manner. Two or three good dishes of their kind, and well cooked, are infinitely preferable to a whole course of indigestible compositions. A soup might as well be made of cabbage stalks and pea shells, as any preparation of food with whites of eggs, when there is no doubt of their being positively prejudicial. As cabbage stalks then go to the dunghill, and pea shells to the pigs, so let whites of eggs go to the book-binder, or find some other destination. There are also various kinds of fruit that require to be used with great caution. Currants, raisins, prunes, French plums, figs, and all kinds of preserves, are prepared either by the heat of the sun, or by cookery to the full extent that they will bear, and beyond which any application of heat gives them a tendency to putridity. They are therefore certainly prejudicial to weak stomachs when used in puddings, and cannot be good for any; though strong stomachs may not perceive an immediate ill effect from them. Eaten without any farther preparation, and especially with bread, these things may be used in moderation. For the reasons just given, spices are better not put into puddings, they are already in a sufficiently high state of preparation. The warm climates in which they grow, brings them to a state of far greater maturity than the general productions of our northern latitude. When they are used, it is better to add them ground, at the time of eating what is to be seasoned, or put in the last thing before serving up the dish. These are also better ground at home, both to have them fresh, and free from adulteration. Almonds used in puddings are liable to the same objection. The danger of using laurel leaves in cooking, cannot be too frequently repeated. Bay leaves, bitter almonds, and fruit kernels, if not equally dangerous, are pernicious enough to make it very advisable not to use them. Fresh fruits often become more unwholesome from being cooked in puddings and tarts, yet will in many cases agree then with stomachs that cannot take them raw; but unripe fruits are not good, either dressed or in any other state.--To prepare puddings in the best manner, they should boil briskly over a clear fire, with the pot lid partly if not entirely off, as the access of fresh air makes every thing dress sweeter. As butter is generally an expensive article, dripping, nicely prepared, may on many occasions be used as a substitute. It will answer the purpose of rubbing basins with, quite as well as butter, and never gives any unpleasant flavour to the pudding. It is also very proper to dredge a basin with flour, after it is rubbed with butter or dripping. Economy in eggs is both rational and useful, as puddings with a moderate number of eggs are more wholesome, than when used extravagantly or with profusion. Pudding cloths, and every utensil in making puddings, should be quite clean, or the food cannot be wholesome. The outside of a boiled pudding often tastes disagreeably, which arises from the cloth not being nicely washed, and kept in a dry place. It should be dipt in boiling water, squeezed dry, and floured, when to be used. A bread pudding should be loosely tied, and a batter pudding tight over. The water should boil quick when the pudding is put in, and it should be moved about for a minute, lest the ingredients should not mix. Batter pudding should be strained through a coarse sieve, when all is mixed: in others, the eggs should be strained separately. Pans and basins in which puddings are to be boiled, should always be buttered, or rubbed with clean dripping. A pan of cold water should be prepared, and the pudding dipped in as soon as it comes out of the pot, to prevent its adhering to the cloth. Good puddings may be made without eggs; but they must have as little milk as is sufficient to mix the batter, and must boil three or four hours. A few spoonfuls of fresh small beer, or one of yeast, will answer instead of eggs. Snow is also an excellent substitute for eggs, either in puddings or pancakes. Two large spoonfuls will supply the place of one egg, and the article it is used in will be equally good. This is a useful piece of information, especially as snow often falls when eggs are scarce and dear. Fresh small beer, or bottled malt liquors, will likewise serve instead of eggs. The yolks and whites beaten long and separately, make the article they are put into much lighter. PUDDING CAKES. Put four yolks and two whites of eggs to a pint of milk; mix with it half a pint of bread crumbs grated fine, half a nutmeg, six ounces of currants washed and dried, a quarter of a pound of beef suet chopped small, a little salt, and flour sufficient to make it of a moderate thickness. Fry these cakes in lard, of about the usual size of a fritter. PUDDING KETCHUP. Steep an ounce of thin-pared lemon peel, and half an ounce of mace, in half a pint of brandy, or a pint of sherry, for fourteen days. Then strain it, and add a quarter of a pint of capillaire. This will keep for years, and being mixed with melted butter, it is a delicious relish to puddings and sweet dishes. PUDDING WITH MEAT. Make a batter with flour, milk, and eggs. Pour a little into the bottom of a pudding-dish; then put seasoned meat of any kind into it, and a little shred onion. Pour the remainder of the batter over, and bake it in a slow oven. A loin of mutton baked in batter, being first cleared of most of the fat, makes a good dish. PUFFS. They should be made of light puff crust, rolled out and cut into shapes according to the fancy. Then bake them, and lay some sweetmeat in the middle. Or roll out the crust, cut it into pieces of any shape, lay sweetmeats over one half, and turn the other half of the crust over; press them together round the edge, and bake them. PUFF CRUST. Take a pound and a half of flour, put it upon a pie board with a little salt, and mix in gradually just water sufficient to make it into a paste, taking care that it be neither too thin nor too stiff. Mould it lightly together, and let it lie for two hours before it is finished. Roll out the paste, put a pound of butter into the middle of it, fold the two ends of the paste over it, and roll it out; then fold it together, and roll it out again. Repeat this six times in the winter, and five in the summer. It should be rolled rather less than half an inch in thickness, dusting a little flour lightly over and under it, to prevent its sticking to the rolling-pin. When finished, roll it out for use as occasion requires. This makes a very nice and delicate crust.--Another. To a pound and a half of flour, allow a pound of butter, and three quarters of an ounce of salt. Put the flour on a clean pie board, make a hole in the middle, and put in the salt with the butter cut into small pieces. Pour in the water carefully, as it is of great importance that the crust should not be made too thin; there should only be water enough just to make it hold well together, and to roll it out smooth. Work the butter and water up well together with the hand, and then by degrees mix in the flour. When the flour is all mixed in, mould the paste till it is quite smooth and free from lumps, and then let it lie two hours before it be used. This is a very nice crust for putting round the dish for baked puddings, tarts, or pies. PUFF PASTE. Puffs may be made of any sort of fruit, but it should be prepared first with sugar. To make a rich paste, weigh an equal quantity of butter with as much fine flour as is necessary. Mix a little of the former with the latter, and wet it with as little water as will make it into a stiff paste. Roll it out, and put all the butter over it in slices; turn in the ends, and roll it thin. Do this twice, and tough it no more than can be avoided. The butter may be added at two different times; and to those who are not accustomed to make paste, it may be better to do so. The oven must be rather quicker than for a short crust.--A less rich paste may be made of a pound of flour, and a quarter of a pound of butter, rubbed together. Mix it into a paste with a little water, and an egg well beaten; of the former as little as will suffice, or the paste will be tough. Roll it out, and fold it three or four times. Or rub extremely fine, six ounces of butter in one pound of dried flour, with a spoonful of white sugar. Work up the whole into a stiff paste, with as little hot water as possible. PUITS D' AMOUR. Cut a fine rich puff paste rolled thin, with tin shapes made on purpose, one size less than another, in a pyramidal form, and lay them so. Then bake in a moderate form, that the paste may be done sufficiently, but very pale. Lay different coloured sweetmeats on the edges. PULLED CHICKENS. Take off the skin, and pull the flesh off the bones of a cold fowl, in large pieces. Dredge it with flour, and fry it of a nice brown in butter. Drain the butter from it, simmer the flesh in a good well-seasoned gravy, thickened with a little butter and flour, adding the juice of half a lemon.--Another way. Cut off the legs, and the whole back, of an underdone chicken. Pull all the white part into little flakes free from skin, toss it up with a little cream thickened with a piece of butter rolled in flour, half a blade of powdered mace, some white pepper, salt, and the squeeze of a lemon. Cut off the neck end of the chicken, broil the back and sidesmen in one piece, and the two legs seasoned. Put the hash in the middle of the dish, with the back on it, and the two legs at the end. PULLED TURKEY. Divide the meat of the breast by pulling instead of cutting. Then warm in a spoonful or two of white gravy, and a little cream, grated nutmeg, salt, and a little flour and butter, but do not let it boil. The leg should be seasoned, scored, and broiled, and put into the dish with the above round it. Cold chicken may be treated in the same manner. PUNCH. In preparing this favourite liquor, it is impossible to take too much pains in the process of mixing, that all the different articles may be thoroughly incorporated together. Take then two large fresh lemons with rough skins, quite ripe, and some lumps of double-refined sugar. Rub the sugar over the lemons, till it has absorbed all the yellow part of the rinds. Put these lumps into a bowl, and as much more as the juice of the lemons may be supposed to require: no certain weight or quantity can be mentioned, as the acidity of a lemon cannot be known till tried, and therefore this must be determined by the taste. Then squeeze the lemon juice upon the sugar, and with a bruiser press the sugar and the juice particularly well together, for a great deal of the richness and fine flavour of the punch depends on this rubbing and mixing being thoroughly performed. Having well incorporated the juice and the sugar, mix it up with boiling soft water, and let it stand a little to cool. When this mixture, which is now called the sherbet, is made of a pleasant flavour, take equal quantities of rum and brandy and put into it, mixing the whole well together. The quantity of liquor must be according to taste: two good lemons are generally enough to make four quarts of punch, including a quart of liquor, with half a pound of sugar: but this depends much on taste, and on the strength of the spirit. As the pulp of the lemon is disagreeable to some persons, the sherbet may be strained before the liquor is put in. Some strain the lemon before they put it to the sugar, which is improper; as when the pulp and sugar are well mixed together, it adds much to the richness of the punch. When only rum is used, about half a pint of porter will soften the punch; and even when both rum and brandy are used, the porter gives a richness, and also a very pleasant flavour. A shorter way is to keep ready prepared a quarter of an ounce of citric or crystallized lemon acid, pounded with a few drops of the essence of lemon peel, gradually mixed with a pint of clarified syrup or capillaire. Brandy or rum flavoured with this mixture, will produce good punch in a minute. PUNCH ROYAL. Take thirty Seville oranges and thirty lemons quite sound, pare them very thin, and put the parings into an earthen pan, with as much rum or brandy as will cover them. Take ten gallons of water, and twelve pounds of lump sugar, and boil them. When nearly cold, put in the whites of thirty eggs well beaten, stir it and boil it a quarter of an hour, then strain it through a hair sieve into an earthen pan, and let it stand till the next day. Then put it into a cask, strain the spirit from the parings, and add as much more as will make it up five gallons. Put it into the cask with five quarts of Seville orange juice, and three quarts of lemon juice. Stir it all together with a cleft stick, and repeat the same once a day for three successive days; then stop it down close, and in six weeks it will be fit to drink. PURPLE GLOVES. To dye white gloves of a beautiful purple, boil four ounces of logwood, and two ounces of roche alum, in three pints of soft water, till half wasted. Strain off the liquid, and let it stand to be cold. Mend the gloves neatly, brush them over with the dye, and when dry repeat it. Twice is sufficient, unless the colour is to be very dark. When quite dry, rub off the loose dye with a coarse cloth. Beat up the white of an egg, and with a sponge rub it over the leather. The dye will stain the hands, but wetting them with vinegar will take it off before they are washed. Q. QUAILS. These are dressed in the same manner as snipes and woodcocks. They should be roasted without drawing, served on toast, and eaten with butter only. QUAKING PUDDING. Scald a quart of cream; when almost cold, put to it four eggs well beaten, a spoonful and a half of flour, with nutmeg and sugar. Tie it close in a buttered cloth, boil it an hour, and turn it out carefully, without cracking it. Serve it with melted butter, a little wine, and sugar. QUARTER OF LAMB. A fore-quarter may either be roasted whole, or in separate parts. If left to be cold, chopped parsley should be sprinkled over it. The neck and breast together are called a scoven. QUEEN CAKES. Mix a pound of dried flour, a pound of sifted sugar, and a pound of currants, picked and cleaned. Wash a pound of butter in rose water, beat it well, and mix with it eight eggs, yolks and whites beaten separately. Put in the dry ingredients by degrees, beat the whole an hour, butter little tins, teacups or saucers, fill them half full of batter, and bake them. Sift over them a little fine sugar, just before they are put into the oven.--Another way. Beat eight ounces of butter, and mix it with two eggs, well beaten and strained. Mix eight ounces of dried flour, the same of lump sugar, and the grated rind of a lemon. Put the whole together, and beat it full half an hour with a silver spoon. Butter small pattipans, half fill them, and bake twenty minutes in a quick oven. QUEEN ANNE'S BISCUITS. A pound of flour well dried, half a pound of fine sugar powdered and sifted, a pound of currants well washed and picked, and half a pound of butter. Rub the butter into the flour, then mix in the sugar and currants; add ten spoonfuls of cream, the yolks of three eggs, three spoonfuls of sack, and a little mace finely pounded. When the paste is well worked up, set it in a dish before the fire till it be thoroughly warm. Make it up into cakes, place them on a tin well buttered, prick them full of holes on the top, and bake them in a quick oven. QUEEN ANNE'S KITCHEN. The economy of the royal kitchen a century ago, though not equal perhaps to the refinement of modern times, was sufficiently sumptuous; and what it wanted in delicacies, was abundantly compensated by a profusion of more substantial dishes of truly English fare. The following are only a few specimens of the stile of cooking approved by queen Anne, sufficient to show in what manner royalty was provided for in the days of our forefathers. Under the article of Roasting, a few particulars will occur. When a turkey, capon, or fowl was to be dressed, it was laid down to the fire, at a proper distance, till it became thoroughly hot. It was then basted all over with fresh butter, and afterwards dredged thinly with flour. The heat of the fire converted this into a thin crust, to keep in the gravy; and no more basting was allowed till the roasting was nearly done, when it was once more basted all over with butter. As the meat began to brown, it was sprinkled a little with large salt, and the outside finished with a fine brown. It was sometimes the custom to baste such meats with the yolks of fresh eggs beaten thin, which was continued during the time of roasting. The following directions were given for roast Veal. Chop some parsley and thyme very small. Beat up the yolks of five or six eggs with some cream, add the chopped herbs, some grated bread, a few cloves, a little mace and nutmeg, some currants and sugar. Mix these well together, raise the skin of the breast of veal, put the stuffing under it, and skewer it down close. Lay the veal before the fire, and baste it with butter. When sufficiently roasted, squeeze on the juice of a lemon, and serve it up. For roast Pig, chop up some sage, and sow it up in the belly of the pig. Roast and baste it with butter, sprinkled with a little salt. When roasted fine and crisp, serve it upon a sauce made of chopped sage and currants, well boiled in vinegar and water, the gravy and brains of the pig, a little grated bread, some barberries and sugar, all well mixed together, and heated over the fire. Another way. Fill the belly of the pig with a pudding made of grated bread, a little minced beef suet, the yolks of two or three raw eggs, three or four spoonfuls of good cream, and a little salt. Sow it up in the belly of the pig, lay it down to roast, and baste it with yolks of eggs beat thin. A few minutes before it is taken up, squeeze on the juice of a lemon, and strew it over with bread crumbs, pepper, nutmeg, ginger, and salt. Make a sauce with vinegar, butter, and the yolks of eggs boiled hard and minced. Boil the whole together, with the gravy of the pig, and then serve it up in this sauce. When a Hare is to be dressed, wash it well, and dry it in a cloth. Sow up a pudding in the belly, truss the hare as if it were running, and roast it. Make a sauce of claret wine, grated bread, sugar, ginger, barberries, and butter, boiled all together, and serve it up with the hare.--Boiled dishes were prepared in the following manner. If a capon, pullet, or chicken, boil it in good mutton broth. Put in some mace, a bunch of sweet herbs, a little sage, spinage, marigold leaves and flowers, white or green endive, borage, bugloss, parsley, and sorrel. Serve it up on sippets of white bread. If to be dressed with cauliflower, cut the vegetable into small heads, with about an inch and a half of stalk to them. Boil them in milk with a little mace, till they are very tender, and beat up the yolks of two eggs with a quarter of a pint of sack. Melt some butter very thick, with a little vinegar and sliced lemon. Pour this and the eggs to and fro till they are well mixed, then take the cauliflower out of the milk, and put it into the sauce. Having boiled the chicken tender, serve it upon sippets of white bread, finely carved, and pour the sauce over it. Pigeons are to be put into a skillet with some strong broth, or spring water. Boil and skim them, put in some mace, a bunch of sweet herbs, some white endive, marigold flowers, and salt. When finely boiled, serve them upon sippets of white bread, and garnish the dish with mace and white endive. Small birds, such as woodcocks, snipes, blackbirds, thrushes, fieldfares, rails, quails, wheatears, larks, martins, and sparrows, are to be boiled in strong broth, or in salt and water. When boiled, take out the trails, and chop them and the livers small. Add some crumb of grated bread, a little of the liquor in which the birds were boiled, some mace, and stew them all together in some gravy. Beat up the yolks of two eggs, with a little white wine vinegar and grated nutmeg; and when ready to serve, stir these into the sauce with a small piece of butter. Dish up the birds upon sippets of white bread, and pour the sauce over them with some capers, lemon finely minced, and barberries, or pickled grapes, whole. Carrots and onions boiled together in broth, separately from the sauce, are sometimes added to it. When no onion is put in, rub the bottom of the dish with a clove or two of garlic. A Goose, before it is boiled, is to be salted for a day or two. Steep some oatmeal in warm milk, or some other liquor, and mix it with some shred beef suet, minced apples and onions, sweet herbs chopped, and a seasoning of cloves, mace, and pepper. Fill the belly of the goose with this stuffing, and tie it close at the neck and vent. Boil and serve it on slices of bread, dipped in any kind of broth, with cauliflowers, cabbage, turnips, and barberries. Pour melted butter over it. A Wild Duck, being first drawn and trussed, must be parboiled, and then half roasted. Having carved it, put the gravy into a pipkin with plenty of onion and parsley, sliced ginger, mace, some washed currants, barberries, and a quart of claret. Boil all together, skim it clean, add some butter and sugar, and serve up the duck with the sauce poured over it. A Rabbit is to be boiled in salt and water. Chop some parsley and thyme together, a handful of each, and boil it in a little of the liquor in which the rabbit is boiling. Then add to it three or four spoonfuls of verjuice, a piece of butter, and two or three eggs well beaten. Stir the whole together, thicken it over the fire, and serve up the rabbit with this sauce poured over it.--In the royal kitchen, a Florentine Pie was made of a leg of veal or mutton, cut into thin slices, and seasoned with sweet marjoram, thyme, savory, parsley, rosemary, an onion and a clove of garlic, all cut small. To these were added, nutmeg and pepper beaten fine, some grated manchet, a little salt, and the yolks of three or four raw eggs, to mix and make them adhere together. The meat is laid in a dish, with a crust under it, intermixed with some thin slices of streaked bacon. A few bay leaves and some oyster liquor are added, the dish covered with a crust, and baked. For a Veal Pie, cut a fillet into pieces, about the size of walnuts, and season them with cinnamon, ginger, sugar, and salt. Use a raised crust or dish, at pleasure, lay in the meat with roasted chesnuts peeled and quartered, dates sliced, and the marrow from two beef bones. Put on the top crust, bake the pie; and when done, serve it up with the following sauce poured into it. Beat up the yolk of an egg with some white wine, cinnamon, ginger, and sugar. Heat it over the fire till it thickens a little, taking care not to let the egg curdle. Sauce for a loin of veal was made of all kinds of sweet herbs, with the yolks of two or three hard eggs minced very fine. They were then boiled up with some currants, a little grated bread, pounded cinnamon, sugar, and two whole cloves. The sauce was poured into the dish intended for the veal, with two or three slices of an orange. A Cod's Head was directed to be dressed in the following manner. Cut the head large, and a good piece of the shoulder with it, and boil it in salt and water. Have prepared a quart of cockles, with the shelled meat of two or three crabs. Put these into a pipkin with nearly half a pint of white wine, a bunch of sweet herbs, two onions, a little mace, a little grated nutmeg, and some oyster liquor. Boil these till the liquor is wasted, then add three or four large spoonfuls of melted butter. Drain the cod's head well over a chafing-dish of coals, and serve it up with the above sauce, taking out the bunch of herbs, and adding more butter, if required. Serve up the liver and roe on the sides of the dish. QUICK HEDGES. A great variety of different sorts of plants is employed in forming and constructing these hedges, as those of the hawthorn, the black-thorn, the crab-tree, the hazel, the willow, the beech, the elder, the poplar, the alder, and several other kinds, according to particular circumstances and situations. Whatever sort of plants may be employed for this purpose, the work should constantly be well performed in the first instance, and the hedges and plants be afterwards kept in due order and regularity by suitable pruning, cutting in, and other proper management. Excellent hawthorn hedges are raised by planting one row only at six inches asunder, rather than two rows nine inches or a foot apart. Those planted six inches apart do not require to be cut down to thicken them at the bottom, and will form a complete protection against hogs, and in other respects form a beautiful and effectual fence. QUICKSILVER, when rubbed down and blended with unctuous matters, forms a sort of ointment, which is useful in the curing of different diseases of the skin, as well as in destroying lice and other vermin that infest animals of different kinds, which form the live stock of the farmer. It has also been found useful in its crude state in destroying insects on fruit trees. Take a small awl, and pierce sloping, through the rind, and into part of the wood of the branch, but not to the heart or pith of it; and pour in a small drop or two of the quicksilver, and stop it up with a small wooden plug made to fit the orifice, and the insects will drop off from that very branch the next day; and in a day or two more, from the other branches of the trees without any other puncture, and the tree will continue in full vigour and thrive well through the summer. Honeysuckles and other shrubs may be cleared of insects, by scraping away the top of the ground with a trowel, and running an awl in the same sloping manner, into the main stem just above the roots; but with the same caution as above, not quite to the inner pith, and then applying the quicksilver. The insects will drop off the day after the experiment. QUILLS. To harden and prepare them for use, dip them for a minute in some boiling water in which alum has been dissolved; or thrust them into hot ashes till they become soft, and afterwards press and scrape them with the back of a knife. When they are to be clarified, the barrels must be scraped and cut at the end, and then put into boiling water for a quarter of an hour, with a quantity of alum and salt. Afterwards they are dried in an oven, or in a pan of hot sand. QUIN'S FISH SAUCE. Half a pint of walnut pickle, the same of mushroom pickle, six anchovies pounded, six anchovies whole, and half a tea-spoonful of cayenne. Shake it up well, when it is to be used. QUINCE. The fruit of the quince is astringent and stomachic; and its expressed juice, in small quantities, as a spoonful or two, is of considerable service in nausea, vomitings, eructations, &c. Quince trees are very apt to have rough bark, and to be bark-bound; in these cases it will be necessary to shave off the rough bark with a draw-knife, and to scarify them when bark-bound, brushing them over with the composition. It is also advised to plant quince trees at a proper distance from apple and pears, as bees and the wind may mix the farina, and occasion the apples and pears to degenerate. These trees may be raised from the kernels of the fruit sown in autumn; but there is no depending on having the same sort of good fruit from seedlings, nor will they soon become bearers. But the several varieties may be continued the same by cuttings and layers; also by suckers from such trees as grow upon their own roots, and likewise be increased by grafting and budding upon their own pear-stocks raised from the kernels in the same manner as for apples. Standard quinces, designed as fruit trees, may be stationed in the garden or orchard, and some by the sides of any water, pond, watery ditch, &c. as they delight in moisture. QUINCE JELLY. When quinces have been boiled for marmalade, take the first liquor and pass it through a jelly bag. To every pint allow a pound of fine loaf sugar, and boil it till it is quite clear and comes to a jelly. The quince seeds should be tied in a piece of muslin, and boiled in it. QUINCE MARMALADE. Pare and quarter some quinces, and weigh an equal quantity of sugar. To four pounds of the latter put a quart of water, boil and skim it well, by the time the quinces are prepared. Lay the fruit in a stone jar, with a teacupful of water at the bottom, and pack them with a little sugar strewed between. Cover the jar close, set it in a cool oven, or on a stove, and let the quinces soften till they become red. Then pour the syrup and a quart of quince juice into a preserving pan, and boil all together till the marmalade be completed, breaking the lumps of fruit with the ladle; otherwise the fruit is so hard, that it will require a great deal of time. Stewing quinces in a jar, and then squeezing them through a cheese cloth, is the best method of obtaining the juice; and in this case the cloth should first be dipped in boiling water, and then wrung out. QUINCE PUDDING. Scald six large quinces very tender, pare off the thin rind, and scrape them to a pulp. Add powdered sugar enough to make them very sweet, and a little pounded ginger and cinnamon. Beat up the yolks of four eggs with some salt, and stir in a pint of cream. Mix these with the quince, and bake it in a dish, with a puff crust round the edge. In a moderate oven, three quarters of an hour will be sufficient. Sift powdered sugar over the pudding before it is sent to table. QUINCE WINE. Gather the quinces in a dry day, when they are tolerably ripe; rub off the down with a linen cloth, and lay them in hay or straw for ten days to perspire. Cut them in quarters, take out the cores, and bruise them well in a mashing tub with a wooden pestle. Squeeze out the liquid part by degrees, by pressing them in a hair bag in a cider press. Strain the liquor through a fine sieve, then warm it gently over a fire, and skim it, but do not suffer it to boil. Now sprinkle into it some loaf sugar reduced to powder, and boil a dozen or fourteen quinces thinly sliced, in a gallon of water mixed with a quart of white wine. Add two pounds of fine sugar, strain off the liquor, and mingle it with the natural juice of the quinces. Put this into a cask, but do not fill it, and mix them well together. Let it stand to settle, put in two or three whites of eggs, and draw it off. If it be not sweet enough, add more sugar, and a quart of the best malmsey. To make it still better, boil a quarter of a pound of stone raisins, and half an ounce of cinnamon bark, in a quart of the liquor, till a third part is reduced. Then strain it, and put it into the cask when the wine is fermenting. QUINCES PRESERVED. Wipe clean a quantity of golden pippins, not pared but sliced, and put them into two quarts of boiling water. Boil them very quick, and closely covered, till the water is reduced to a thick jelly, and then scald the quinces, either whole or cut in halves. To every pint of pippin jelly add a pound of the finest sugar, boil and skim it clear. Put those quinces that are to be done whole into the syrup at once, and let it boil very fast; and those that are to be in halves by themselves. Skim it carefully, and when the fruit is clear, put some of the syrup into a glass, to try whether it jellies, before taking it off the fire. A pound of quinces is to be allowed to a pound of sugar, and a pound of jelly already boiled with the sugar. QUINSEY. For a quinsey, or inflammation of the throat, make a volatile liniment, by shaking together an ounce of Florence oil, and half an ounce of the spirit of hartshorn; or an equal quantity of each, if the patient be able to bear it. Moisten a piece of flannel with the liniment, and apply it to the throat every four or five hours. After bleeding, it will seldom fail to lessen or carry off the complaint. R. RABBITS. Wild ones have the finest flavour, and are by far the best. Tame rabbits are scarcely eatable, unless kept delicately clean. The doe brings forth every month, and must be allowed to go with the buck as soon as she has kindled. The sweetest hay, oats, beans, sow-thistle, parsley, carrot tops, cabbage leaves, and bran, should be given to the rabbits, fresh and fresh. If not carefully attended, their own stench will destroy them, and be very unwholesome to those who live near them. Constant care is requisite to prevent this inconvenience.--When rabbits are to be dressed, they may have gravy and stuffing like hare; or they may be larded, and roasted without stuffing. For the manner of trussing a rabbit, either for roasting or boiling, see the Plate. If boiled, it should be smothered with onion sauce, the butter to be melted with milk instead of water. If fried in joints, it must be dressed with dried or fried parsley, and liver sauce made for it, the same as for roasting. Chop up the liver with parsley, and put it into melted butter, with pepper and salt. If fricasseed, the same as for chickens. Young rabbits are good in a pie, with forcemeat as for chicken pie.--When rabbits are to be purchased for cooking, the following things must be observed. If the claws are blunt and rugged, the ears dry and tough, and the haunch thick, it is old. But if the claws are smooth and sharp, the ears easily tear, and the cleft in the lip is not much spread, it is young. If fresh and newly killed, the body will be stiff, and in hares the flesh is pale. They keep a good while by proper care, and are best when rather beginning to turn, if the inside is preserved from being musty. To distinguish a real leveret from a hare, a knob or small bone will be discovered near the foot on its fore leg.----_Tame rabbits_ may be bred with much success and ornamental effect in a small artificial warren, in a lawn in the garden, made in the following manner. Pare off the turf of a circle about forty feet diameter, and lay it on the outside; then dig a ditch within this circle, the outside perpendicular, the inner sloping, and throw earth sufficient into the middle to form a little hill, two or three feet higher than the level of the lawn; the rest must be carried away. Then lay down the turf on the hill, and beat it well to settle. The ditch at bottom should be about three feet wide, and three and a half deep, with two or three drains at the bottom, covered with an iron grate, or a stone with holes, to carry off the hasty rains, in order to keep the rabbits dry. In the outside bank should be six alcoves, the sides and top supported, either by boards or brick-work, to give the rabbits their dry food in; by their different situations some will always be dry; six boxes or old tea-chests, let into the bank will do very well. If the ground be very light, the outside circle should have a wall built round it, or some stakes driven into the ground, and boards or hurdles nailed to them, within a foot of the bottom, to prevent the bank from falling in. The entrance must either be by a board to turn occasionally across the ditch, or by a ladder. The turf being settled, and the grass beginning to grow, turn in the rabbits, and they will immediately go to work to make themselves burrows in the sides, and in the hill. By way of inducing them rather to build in the sides, to keep the turf the neater, make a score of holes about a foot deep, and they will finish them to their own mind; and if there be a brick wall round it, it should be built on pillars, with an arch from each, to leave a vacancy for a burrow. Lucern, parsley and carrots are very proper food for them; and they should also be fed upon some of the best upland pasture hay. Rabbits are subject to several diseases, as the _rot_, which is caused by giving them too large a quantity of green food, or the giving it fresh gathered, with the dew or rain hanging in fresh drops upon it, as it is over-moisture that always causes the disease; the green food should therefore always be given dry, and a sufficient quantity of hay, or other dry food, intermixed with it, to counteract the bad effects of it. And a sort of _madness_ often seizes them: this may be known by their tumbling about; their heels upwards, and hopping in an odd manner into the boxes. This distemper is supposed to be owing to the rankness of their feeding; and the general cure is the keeping them low and giving them the prickly herb called tare-thistle to eat as much as possible. They are also subject to a sort of scabby eruption, which is seldom removed. These should, however, be directly separated from the rest of the stock. RABBIT LIKE HARE. Choose a full-grown young rabbit, and hang it up three or four days. Then skin it, and without washing, lay it in a seasoning of black pepper and allspice, in very fine powder. Add a glass of port wine, and the same quantity of vinegar. Baste it occasionally for forty hours, then stuff and roast it as hare, and with the same sauce. Do not wash off the liquor that it was soaked in. RADISHES. These are raised from seed by different sowings from the end of October till April, or the following month. They should have a light fine mould, and the more early sowings be made on borders, under warm walls, or other similar places, and in frames covered by glasses. The common spindle-rooted, short-topped sorts are mostly made use of in these early sowings, the seed being sown broadcast over the beds after they have been prepared by digging over and raking the surface even, being covered in with a slight raking. Some sow carrots with the early crops of radishes. It is usual to protect the early sown crops in the borders, during frosty nights and bad weather, by mats or dry wheat straw, which should be carefully removed every mild day. By this means they are brought more forward, as well as form better roots. When mats are used, and supported by pegs or hoops, they are readily applied and removed. A second more general sowing should be made in January or February. When the crops have got their rough leaf; they should be thinned out, where they are too thick, to the distance of two inches, as there will be constantly more thinning by the daily drawing of the young radishes. When the weather is dry in March, or the following month, the crops should be occasionally well watered, which not only forwards the growth of the crops, but increases the size of the roots, and renders them more mild and crisp in eating. And the sowings should be continued at the distance of a fortnight, till the latter end of March, when they should be performed every ten days, until the end of April or beginning of the following month. In sowing these later crops, it is the practice of some gardeners to sow coss-lettuces and spinach with them, in order to have the two crops coming forward at the same time; but the practice is not to be much recommended, where there is sufficient room. But in sowing the main general crops in the open quarters, the market-gardeners generally put them in on the same ground where they plant out their main crops of cauliflowers and cabbages, mixing spinach with the radish-seed as above, sowing the seeds first, and raking them in, then planting the cauliflowers or cabbages; the radishes and spinach come in for use before the other plants begin to spread much, and as soon as those crops are all cleared off for use, hoe the ground all over to kill weeds and loosen the soil, drawing earth about the stems of the cauliflowers and cabbages. The turnip radish should not be sown till the beginning of March, the plants being allowed a greater distance than for the common spindle-rooted sort. The seeds of this sort are apt to degenerate, unless they are set at a distance from that kind. The white and black Spanish radishes are usually sown about the middle of July, or a little earlier, and are fit for the table by the end of August, or the beginning of September, continuing good till frost spoils them. These should be thinned to a greater distance than the common sort, as their roots grow as large as turnips, and should not be left nearer than six inches. To have these roots in winter, they should be drawn before hard frost comes on, and laid in dry sand, as practised for carrots, carefully guarding them from wet and frost; as in this way they may be kept till the spring. In regard to the culture of the general crops, they require very little, except occasional thinning, where they are too thick, when the plants are come into the rough leaf, either by hoeing or drawing them out by hand: though for large quantities, small hoeing is the most expeditious mode of thinning, as well as most beneficial to the crop by loosening the ground; in either method thinning the plants to about two or three inches distance, clearing out the weakest, and leaving the strongest to form the crop. In order to save the seed, about the beginning of May some ground should be prepared by digging and levelling; then drawing some of the straightest and best coloured radishes, plant them in rows three feet distant, and two feet asunder in the rows; observing, if the season be dry, to water them until they have taken root: after which they will only require to have the weeds hoed down between them, until they are advanced so high as to overspread the ground. When the seed begins to ripen, it should be carefully guarded against the birds. When it is ripe, the pods will turn brown: then it must be cut, and spread in the sun to dry; after which it must be thrashed, and laid up for use where no mice can come at it. In order to have the roots early, as in January or the following month, the method of raising them in hot-beds is sometimes practised. They should have eighteen inches depth of dung to bring them up, and six or seven inches depth of light rich mould. The seed should be sown moderately thick, covering it in half an inch thick, and putting on the lights: the plants usually come up in a week or less; and when they appear, the lights should be lifted or taken off occasionally, according to the weather; and in a fortnight thin the plants to the distance of an inch and half or two inches, when in six weeks they will be fit to draw. Where there are no frames to spare, the beds may be covered with mats over hoops, and the sides secured by boards and straw-bands. And when in want of dung, if the beds be covered with frames, and the lights put on at night and in bad weather, the plants may be raised for use a fortnight sooner than in the open borders.--To raise them in constant succession, steep the seed in rain water for twenty-four hours, tie it up in a linen bag, and hang it in the sun all day. The seed beginning to shoot, is then to be sown in fresh earth well exposed to the sun, and covered with a tub. In three days the radishes will be produced fit for salad, and much more delicate than those grown in the common way. In the winter the seeds should be steeped in warm water, and the bag put in a place sufficiently hot to make them sprout. Then fill a tub with rich mould, sow the seeds in it, and cover them over closely with another tub, taking care to sprinkle them now and then with warm water. The two tubs closely joined should be set in a warm place, and in about a fortnight some fine salad will be produced. Radishes may be raised in this manner all the year round, and by the quickness of their growth they will be rendered fine and delicate. RAGOUT OF EGGS. Boil eight eggs hard, then shell and cut them into quarters. Have ready a pint of good gravy, well seasoned, and thickened over the fire with two ounces of butter rolled in flour. When quite smooth and hot, pour it over the eggs, and serve them up. By using cream instead of gravy, this will make a fricassee. RAGOUT OF MORELS. Cut them in long slices, then wash and drain them well. Put them into a stewpan with a piece of butter, some chopped parsley, a bunch of herbs, and some gravy. Simmer them over a gentle fire, and when nearly done, add a little pepper, salt, and flour. Set them over the fire, till the sauce is properly thickened. Stewed with a little water and a blade of mace, and thickened with cream, and yolks of eggs, they make a white ragout. Serve them with sippets of bread toasted. RAGOUT OF TRUFFLES. Peel the truffles, cut them in slices, wash and drain them well. Put them into a saucepan with a little gravy, and stew them gently over a slow fire. When they are nearly done enough, thicken them with a little butter and flour. Stewed in a little water, and thickened with cream and yolk of egg, they make a nice white ragout. Truffles, mushrooms, and morels, are all of them very indigestible, and therefore not to be recommended to general use. RAISED CRUST. For meat pies or fowls, boil some water with a little fine lard, and an equal quantity of fresh dripping or butter, but not much of either. While hot, mix this with as much fine flour as is necessary, making the paste as stiff as possible, to be smooth. Good kneading will be required for this purpose, and beating it with a rolling-pin. When quite smooth, put a part of it into a cloth, or under a pan, to soak till nearly cold. Those who are not expert in raising a crust, may roll the paste of a proper thickness, and cut out the top and bottom of the pie, then a long piece for the sides. Cement the bottom to the sides with egg, bringing the former rather farther out, and pinching both together. Put egg between the edges of the paste, to make it adhere at the sides. Fill the pie, put on the cover, and pinch it and the side crust together. The same mode of uniting the paste is to be observed, if the sides are pressed into a tin form, in which the paste must be baked, after it is filled and covered; but in the latter case, the tin should be buttered, and carefully taken off when done enough; and as the form usually makes the sides of a lighter colour than is proper, the paste should be put into the oven again for a quarter of an hour. The crust should be egged over at first with a feather.--Another. Put four ounces of butter into a saucepan with water; and when it boils, pour it into a quantity of flour. Knead and beat it quite smooth, cover it with small bits of butter, and work it in. If for custard, put a paper within to keep out the sides till half done. Mix up an egg with a little warm milk, adding sugar, a little peach water, lemon peel, or nutmeg, and fill up the paste.--Another way. To four pounds of flour, allow a pound of butter, and an ounce of salt. Heap the flour on a pie board, and make a hole in the middle of it, and put in the butter and salt. Pour in water nearly boiling, but with caution, that the crust be not too flimsey. Work the butter with the hand till it is melted in the water, then mix in the flour, mould it for a few minutes as quick as possible, that it may be free from lumps, and the stiffer it is the better. Let it be three hours before it is used. RAISIN WINE. To every gallon of spring water, allow eight pounds of fresh Smyrnas, and put them together in a large tub. Stir it thoroughly every day for a month, then press the raisins in a horse-hair bag as dry as possible, and put the liquor into a cask. When it has done hissing, pour in a bottle of the best brandy, stop it close for twelve months, and then rack it off free from the dregs. Filter the dregs through a bag of flannel of three or four folds, add what is clear to the general quantity, and pour on a quart or two of brandy, according to the size of the vessel. Stop it up, and at the end of three years it may either be bottled, or drank from the cask. If raisin wine be made rich of the fruit, and well kept, the flavour will be much improved.--To make raisin wine with cider, put two hundred-weight of Malagas into a cask, and pour upon them a hogshead of good sound cider that is not rough; stir it well two or three days, stop it up, and let it stand six months. Then rack it into a cask that it will fill, and add a gallon of the best brandy. If raisin wine be much used, it would answer well to keep a cask always for it, and bottle off one year's wine just in time to make the next, which, allowing the six months of infusion, would make the wine to be eighteen months old. In cider counties this way is found to be economical; and if the wine is not thought strong enough, the addition of another stone or two of raisins would be sufficient, and the wine would still be very cheap. When the raisins are pressed through a horse-hair bag, they will either produce a good spirit by distillation, if sent to a chemist, or they will make excellent vinegar.--Raisin wine without cider. On four hundred-weight of Malagas pour a hogshead of spring water, stir it well every day for a fortnight, then squeeze the raisins in a horse-hair bag in a press, and tun the liquor. When it ceases to hiss, stop it close. In six months rack it off into another cask, or into a tub; and after clearing out the sediment, return it into the cask without washing it. Add a gallon of the best brandy, stop it close, and bottle it off in six months. The pressed fruit may be reserved for making vinegar. RAMAKINS. Scrape a quarter of a pound of Cheshire cheese, and the same of Gloucester cheese, and add them to a quarter of a pound of fresh butter. Beat all in a mortar, with the yolks of four eggs, and the inside of a small French roll boiled soft in cream. Mix the paste with the whites of the eggs previously beaten, put it into small paper pans made rather long than square, and bake in a Dutch oven to a fine brown. They should be eaten quite hot. Some like the addition of a glass of white wine. The batter for ramakins is equally good over macaroni, when boiled tender; or on stewed brocoli, celery, or cauliflower, a little of the gravy they have been stewed in being put in the dish with them, but not enough to make the vegetable swim. RASPBERRY BRANDY. Pick some fine dry fruit, put them into a stone jar, and the jar into a kettle of water, or on a hot hearth, till the juice will run. After straining it, add to every pint of juice, half a pound of sugar; give it one boil, and skim it. When cold, put equal quantities of juice and brandy; shake it well, and bottle it. Some persons prefer it stronger of the brandy. RASPBERRY CAKES. Pick out some fine ripe raspberries, weigh and boil them. When mashed, and the liquor is wasted, add sugar equal to the first weight of the fruit. Take it off the fire, mix it well, until perfectly dissolved, and then put it on china plates to dry in the sun. As soon as the top part dries, cut the paste into small cakes with the cover of a canister; then turn them on fresh plates, and put them into boxes when dry, with layers of white paper. RASPBERRY CREAM. Mash the fruit gently, and let them drain; sprinkle some sugar over, and that will produce more juice. Then put the juice to some cream, and sweeten it. After this it may be lowered with milk; but if the milk be put in before the cream, it will curdle it. When fresh fruit cannot be obtained, it is best made of raspberry jelly, instead of jam.--Another way. Boil an ounce of isinglass shavings in three pints of cream and new milk mixed, for fifteen minutes, or till the shavings be melted. Strain it through a hair sieve into a bason; when cool, add about half a pint of raspberry juice or syrup, to the milk and cream. Stir it till it is well incorporated; sweeten, and add a glass of brandy. Whisk it about till three parts cold, and then put it into a mould till it is quite cold. In summer, use the fresh juice; in winter, syrup of raspberries. RASPBERRY JAM. Weigh equal quantities of fruit and sugar; put the former into a preserving-pan, boil and break it, stir it constantly, and let it boil very quickly. When most of the juice is wasted, add the sugar, and simmer it half an hour. By this mode of management the jam is greatly superior in colour and flavour, to that which is made by putting the sugar in at first.--Another way. Put the fruit in a jar, and the jar in a kettle of water on a hot hearth, and let it remain till the juice will run from it. Then take away a quarter of a pint from every pound of fruit, boil and bruise it half an hour. Put in the weight of the fruit in sugar, add the same quantity of currant juice, and boil it to a strong jelly. The raspberry juice will serve to put into brandy, or may be boiled with its weight in sugar, for making the jelly for raspberry ice or cream. RASPBERRY TARTS. Roll out some thin puff paste, and lay it in a pattipan. Put in the raspberries, strew some fine sugar over them, cover with a thin lid, and bake the tart. Mix a pint of cream with the yolks of two or three eggs well beaten, and a little sugar. Cut open the tart, pour in the mixture, and return it to the oven for five or six minutes.--Another. Line the dish with puff paste, put in sugar and fruit, lay bars across, and bake them. Currant tarts are done in the same way. RASPBERRY VINEGAR. Put a pound of fine fruit into a china bowl, and pour upon it a quart of the best white wine vinegar. Next day strain the liquor on a pound of fresh raspberries, and the following day do the same; but do not squeeze the fruit, only drain the liquor as dry as possible from it. The last time pass it through a canvas, previously moistened with vinegar, to prevent waste. Put it into a stone jar, with a pound of sugar to every pint of juice, broken into large lumps. Stir it when melted, then put the jar into a saucepan of water, or on a hot hearth; let it simmer, and skim it clean. When cold, bottle it up. This is one of the most useful preparations that can be kept in a house, not only as affording the most refreshing beverage, but being of singular efficacy in complaints of the chest. A large spoonful or two in this case is to be taken in a tumbler of water. No glazed or metal vessel of any kind should be used in this preparation. The fruit, with an equal quantity of sugar, makes excellent Raspberry Cakes, without boiling. RASPBERRY WINE. To every quart of well-picked raspberries put a quart of water; bruise, and let them stand two days. Strain off the liquor; and to every gallon add three pounds of lump sugar. When dissolved, put the liquor in a barrel; and when fine, which will be in about two months, bottle it off. To each bottle put a spoonful of brandy, or a glass of wine. RATIFIA. Blanch two ounces of peach and apricot kernels, bruise and put them into a bottle, and fill it nearly up with brandy. Dissolve half a pound of white sugar-candy in a cup of cold water, and add it to the brandy after it has stood a month on the kernels, and they are strained off. Then filter through paper, and bottle it up for use. The leaves of peaches and nectarines, when the trees are cut in the spring, being distilled, are an excellent substitute for ratifia in puddings. RATIFIA CAKES. Blanch and beat fine in a mortar, four ounces of bitter almonds, and two ounces of sweet almonds. Prepare a pound and a half of loaf sugar, pounded and sifted; beat up the whites of four eggs to a froth, and add the sugar to it a little at a time, till it becomes of the stiffness of dough. Stir and beat it well together, and put in the almonds. Drop the paste on paper or tins, and bake it in a slow oven. Try one of the cakes, and if it rises out of shape, the oven is too hot. The cakes must not be handled in making, but a spoon or a knife must be used. RATIFIA CREAM. Boil three or four laurel, peach, or nectarine leaves, in a full pint of cream, and strain it. When cold, add the yolks of three eggs beaten and strained, sugar, and a large spoonful of brandy stirred quick into it. Scald and stir it all the time, till it thickens. Or mix half a quarter of a pint of ratifia, the same quantity of mountain wine, the juice of two or three lemons, a pint of rich cream, and agreeably sweetened with sugar. Beat it with a whisk, and put it into glasses. The cream will keep eight or ten days.--Another. Blanch a quarter of an ounce of bitter almonds, and beat them with a tea-spoonful of water in a marble mortar. Rub with the paste two ounces of loaf sugar, simmer it ten minutes with a tea-cupful of cream, and then strain and ice it. RATIFIA DROPS. Blanch and beat in a mortar four ounces of bitter almonds, and two ounces of sweet almonds, with a small part of a pound of fine sugar sifted. Add the remainder of the sugar, and the whites of two eggs, and make the whole into a paste. Divide the mass into little balls the size of a nutmeg, put them on wafer paper, and bake them gently on tin plates. RATS. The first step taken by rat-catchers, in order to clear a house, &c. of those vermin, is to allure them all together, to one proper place, before they attempt to destroy them; for there is such an instinctive caution in these animals, accompanied with a surprising sagacity in discovering any cause of danger, that if any of them be hurt, or pursued, in an unusual manner, the rest take the alarm, and become so shy and wary, that they elude all the devices and stratagems of their pursuers for some time after. The place where the rats are to be assembled, should be some closet, or small room, into which all the openings, but one or two, may be secured; and this place should be, as near as may be, in the middle of the house, or buildings. It is the practice, therefore, to attempt to bring them all together in some such place before any attempt be made to take them; and even then to avoid any violence, hurt, or fright to them, before the whole be in the power of the operator. In respect to the means used to allure them to one place, they are various; one of those most easily and efficaciously practised is the trailing some piece of their most favourite food, which should be of the kind that has the strongest scent, such as toasted cheese, or broiled red-herring, from the holes or entrances to their accesses in every part of the house, or contiguous buildings, whence it is intended to allure them. At the extremities, and in different parts of the course of this trailed tract, small quantities of meal, or any other kind of their food, should be laid, to bring the greater number into the tracks, and to encourage them to pursue it to the centre place, where they are intended to be taken; at that place, where time admits of it, a more plentiful repast is laid for them, and the trailing repeated for two or three nights. But besides this trailing, and way-baiting, some of the most expert of the rat-catchers have a shorter, and, perhaps, more effectual method of bringing them together, which is, the calling them, by making such a kind of whistling noise as resembles their own call, and by this means, with the assistance of the way-baits, they call them out of their holes, and lead them to the repast prepared for them at the place designed for taking them. But this is much more difficult to be practised than the art of trailing; for the learning the exact notes, or cries, of any kind of beasts or birds, so as to deceive them, is a peculiar talent, not easily attained to in other cases. And in practising either of these methods, great caution must be used by the operator to suppress, and prevent, the scent of his feet and body from being perceived; which is done by overpowering that scent by others of a stronger nature. In order to this the feet are to be covered with cloths rubbed over with assafoetida, or other strong smelling substances; and even oil of rhodium is sometimes used for this purpose, but sparingly, on account of its dearness, though it has a very alluring, as well as disguising effect. If this caution of avoiding the scent of the operator's feet, near the track, and in the place where the rats are proposed to be collected, be not properly observed, it will very much obstruct the success of the attempt to take them; for they are very shy of coming where the scent of human feet lies very fresh, and intimates, to their sagacious instinct, the presence of human creatures, whom they naturally dread. To the above-mentioned means of alluring by trailing, way-baiting, and calling, is added another of very material efficacy, which is the use of the oil of rhodium, which, like the marum syriacum in the case of cats, has a very extraordinary fascinating power on these animals. The oil is extremely dear, and therefore very sparingly used. It is exhaled in a small quantity in the place, and at the entrance of it, where the rats are intended to be taken, particularly at the time when they are to be last brought together in order to their destruction; and it is used also, by smearing it on the surface of some of the implements used in taking them, by the method before described, and the effect it has in taking off their caution and dread, by the delight they appear to have in it, is very extraordinary. It is usual, likewise, for the operator to disguise his figure as well as scent, which is done by putting on a sort of gown or cloak, of one colour, that hides the natural form, and makes him appear like a post, or such inanimate thing; which habit must likewise be scented as above, to overpower the smell of his person; and besides this he is to avoid all motion, till he has secured his point of having all the rats in his power. When the rats are thus enticed and collected, where time is afforded, and the whole in any house or outbuildings are intended to be cleared away, they are suffered to regale on what they most like, which is ready prepared for them; and then to go away quietly for two or three nights; by which means those which are not allured the first night are brought afterwards, either by their fellows, or the effects of the trailing, &c. and will not fail to come duly again, if they are not disturbed or molested. But many of the rat-catchers make shorter work, and content themselves with what can be brought together in one night or two; but this is never effectual, unless where the building is small and entire, and the rats but few in number. With respect to the means of taking them when they are brought together, they are various. Some entice them into a very large bag, the mouth of which is sufficiently capacious to cover nearly the whole floor of the place where they are collected; which is done by smearing some vessel, placed in the middle of the bag, with oil of rhodium, and laying in the bag baits of proper food. This bag, which before laid flat on the ground, with the mouth spread open, is to be suddenly closed when the rats are all in it. Others drive or frighten them, by slight noises or motions, into a bag of a long form, the mouth of which, after all the rats are come in, is drawn up to the opening of the place by which they entered, all other ways of retreat being secured. Others, again, intoxicate or poison them, by mixing with the repast prepared for them the cocculus indicus, or the nux vomica. A receipt for this purpose has appeared, which directs four ounces of cocculus indicus, with twelve ounces of oatmeal, and two ounces of treacle or honey, to be made up into a moist paste with strong beer; but if the nux vomica be used, a much less proportion will serve than is here given of the cocculus. Any similar composition of these drugs, with that kind of food the rats are most fond of, and which has a strong flavour, to hide that of the drugs, will equally well answer the end. If, indeed, the cocculus indicus be well powdered, and infused in strong beer for some time, at least half the quantity here directed will serve as well as the quantity before mentioned. When the rats appear to be thoroughly intoxicated with the cocculus, or sick with the nux vomica, they may be taken with the hand, and put into a bag or cage, the door of the place being first drawn to, lest those which have strength and sense remaining should escape. By these methods, when well conducted, a very considerable part of the rats in a farm, or other house, and the contiguous buildings, may be taken and destroyed. But various other methods have been practised.--The following compositions are advised for destroying these mischievous creatures, and which are stated to have been attended with great success. First, to a quart of oatmeal, add six drops of oil of rhodium, one grain of musk, and two or three of the nuts of nux vomica finely powdered; make them into pellets, and put them into the rat-holes. This, it is said, was at first greedily eaten, and did great execution; but the wise animals, after a time, ceased to eat it. Secondly; this consisted of three parts of oatmeal and one of stave's-acre, mixed well into a paste with honey. Pieces of this paste were laid in their holes, and again did great execution. Thirdly; this is a method of destroying them by laying a large box down on its front side, with the lid supported open by a string over a pulley; and by trailing toasted cheese and a red-herring from their holes to this box, and placing oatmeal and other food in it, which they are for a few nights to be permitted to eat unmolested; and finally to watch them by moon-light, the inside of the box being painted white; and, when many of them are seen, to let down the lid; by which contrivance sixty of them are stated to have been taken at one time.--But though the usual ways of destroying rats are by traps and poison, it is advised never to use arsenic, or corrosive sublimate, for that purpose, except under particular circumstances, as they are deadly poisons: nux vomica will generally answer the end as well, without the danger. It is a very good plan, to prevent accidents, to enclose the traps in cases, having holes in the ends of them large enough to admit rats, but small enough to exclude dogs, cats, &c. As a bait for rat-traps, the following composition may be made use of with advantage. Take a pound of good flour, three ounces of treacle, and six drops of the oil of carraways: put them all in a dish, and rub them well together till they are properly mixed: then add a pound of crumb of bread. The traps baited with this mixture should be set as near their haunts as possible; but, for two or three days, so as not to fall or strike on the rats going in, but letting them have free liberty to go in and out at pleasure, as this makes them fearless. Some of the bait should also be laid at the rat-holes, and a little of it scattered quite up to the traps, and so on to the bridge of each trap, where a handful may be placed. It may also be proper to scent the traps with the following mixture, for the purpose of enticing the rats into them. Take twenty drops of the oil of rhodium, six or seven grains of musk, and half an ounce of oil of aniseed; put them in a small phial, and shake it well before using; then dip a piece of twisted paper or rag in the mixture, and rub each end of the trap with it, if a box trap, and put two or three drops on the bridge, leaving the paper or rag in the trap. Of whatever kind the trap is, it should be scented; but once in a twelvemonth will be sufficient. Then throw some chaff mixed with a little wheat about the bottom of the trap, in order to deceive the rats; for they are very sagacious, and will not enter a suspicious place. This will be necessary to be done only at the first time of setting the traps; for, after some rats have been caught and have watered and dunged in them, rats will enter boldly when they find others have been there before them: do not, therefore, wash or clean out the trap, as some people do before they set it again, but let the dung and urine remain in it. Keep the places where the traps are set as private as possible; and when they are set for catching, mix no bread with the bait, as the rats will, in that case, be apt to carry it away. And it is useful, when the holes are found quiet, and that no rats use them, to stop them up with the following composition. Take a pint of common tar, half an ounce of pearl-ashes, an ounce of oil of vitriol, and a good handful of common salt, mix them all well together in an old pan or pot. Take some pieces of paper, and lay some of the above mixture very thick on them; then stop the holes well up with them, and build up the mouth of the holes with brick or stone, and mortar; if this be properly done, rats will no more approach these while either smell or taste remains in the composition. But with a view to destroy rats in places where traps cannot be set, it is recommended to take a quart of the above bait, then to rasp into it three nuts of nux vomica, and add a quarter of a pound of crumb of bread, if there was none before; mix them all well together, and lay it into the mouth of their holes, and in different places where they frequent; but first give them of the bait without nux vomica, for three or four succeeding nights; and when they find it agrees with them, they will eat that mixed with the nut with greediness. However, as it is frequently found that rats are very troublesome in sewers and drains, in such cases arsenic may be used with success in the following manner. Take some dead rats, and having put some white arsenic, finely powdered, into an old pepper-box, shake a quantity of it on the foreparts of the dead rats, and put them down the holes, or avenues, by the sides of the sewers at which they come in; this puts a stop to the live ones coming any further; for when they perceive the arsenic, they will retire immediately; whereas, if they were put down without the arsenic, the live ones would eat them. It is by means of arsenic, notwithstanding the above observations, that the most certain method of destroying these troublesome vermin, (provided they can be made to eat it,) takes place; which has been found to answer best when it is prepared by being finely levigated, and mixed up with very strong old cheese and oatmeal. But after all, it is probable that this highly destructive animal, and great pest to the farmer, might be most readily exterminated by parishes uniting for the purpose, and raising certain sums of money to be applied in this way, under the direction of a proper person who is fully acquainted with the business.--In many grain and other districts in the kingdom these animals prevail very much, especially the grey kind, particularly in all those where there are no regular raised staddles or stands for the grain stacks to rest upon, which is the case in a great number. The mischief, injury, and destruction of grain which is produced in this way, is scarcely to be calculated; and they are besides very mischievous, troublesome, and inconvenient in several others; so that they should be every where extirpated as much as possible. And in corn tracts, stands or staddles should every where be provided in order to prevent mischief being done by them. RAZOR STRAPS. Nothing makes a better razor strap than crocus martis with a little sweet oil, rubbed well on doe skin with a glass bottle; and to keep it in perfect order, it should not be left too long dry. RED CABBAGE. Slice a red cabbage crossways, put it in an earthen dish, and throw on it a handful of salt. Cover it over till the next day, drain it in a cullender, and put it into a jar. Boil some good vinegar, with cloves and allspice; pour it hot on the cabbage till the jar is full, and when cold tie it down close. RED HERRINGS. Choose those that are large and moist, cut them open, and pour over them some boiling small beer. Let them soak half an hour, then drain and dry them; make them just hot through before the fire, and rub them over with cold butter. Serve with egg sauce, or buttered eggs; mashed potatoes should also be sent up with them. RED INK. Infuse a quarter of a pound of Brazil wood, rasped, in two pints of vinegar, for three days. Then boil the liquid and the wood over a gentle fire, for an hour, and strain it off quite hot. Put it again over the fire, and dissolve in it, first, half an ounce of gum arabic, and afterwards, half an ounce of alum, and the same quantity of white sugar. When the alum is dissolved, remove it from the fire, and preserve it for use. RED MULLET. This sort of fish are in season in August; and to be good, they should be quite firm. Sea mullets are preferred to the river ones, and the red to the grey. This fish is sometimes called the sea woodcock. To dress mullets, clean them, but leave the inside. Fold them in oiled paper, and bake them gently in a small dish. Make a sauce of the liquor that comes from the fish, with a piece of butter, a little flour, a little essence of anchovy, and a glass of sherry. Give it a boil, serve in a boat, and the fish in the paper cases. REGIMEN. It may be difficult accurately to ascertain the predominant qualities of particular constitutions, or of the food that is best adapted in particular instances; yet it is certain, that health is dependent on regimen and diet, more than on any other cause. There are things so decidedly injurious, and so well known to be so, as to require no admonition; the instincts of nature will teach us to refrain; and generally speaking, the best rule for our practice is to observe by experience, what it is that hurts or does us good, and what our stomachs are best able to digest. We must at the same time keep our judgment unbiassed, and not suffer it to become a pander to the appetite; or the stomach and the health will be betrayed to the mere indulgence of sensuality. The gratification of our taste in the abundant supplies of nature, converted by art to the purposes of wholesome food, is perfectly compatible with the necessary maintenance of health; it is only the indiscriminate or inordinate indulgence of our appetites, regardless of the consequences, that is the proper object of censure. Many of the diseases to which we are subject might be traced to this source; yet we are generally so little aware of it, that we impute them to the state of the weather, to infection, or any other imaginary cause, rather than the true one. The weather has very little serious effect upon a person in health, unless exposed to it in some unusual manner that suddenly checks perspiration, or some of the ordinary evacuations. Infection, though of formidable import, is almost divested of its power over those whose temperance in food and diet keeps the blood and juices pure. The closest attendance upon an infected person has often been found perfectly consistent with personal safety under such circumstances. Even diseases, said to be hereditary, may with great probability be assigned to errors in domestic life, of which the children partake, and fall into the same disorders as their parents, and remote progenitors. But even if this be not exactly so, an originally indifferent constitution may certainly be much amended by proper management. Amongst a variety of causes producing ill health, there can be no doubt but bad air, want of cleanliness, want of exercise, excessive fatigue, and mental uneasiness, must have an unfavourable influence; yet none of these have so immediate an effect as the food we eat, which if not wholesome and nutricious, tends directly to contaminate the system. We derive the renewal of our blood and juices, which are constantly exhausting, from the substances converted into food. As our food therefore is proper or improper, too much or too little, so will our blood and juices be good or bad, overcharged or deficient, and our state of health accordingly good or diseased. It is not only necessary however, that our aliment should be plain and wholesome; it is requisite also that it should contain active principles; such as salts, oils, and spirits, which have the property of stimulating the solids, quickening the circulation, and make the fluids thinner; thus rendering them more suited to undergo the necessary secretions of the body. The art of preserving health, and of prolonging life, consists therefore in the use of a moderate quantity of such diet as shall neither encrease the salts and oils so as to produce disease, nor to diminish them so as to suffer the solids to become relaxed. Eating too little is hurtful, as well as eating too much. Neither excess nor hunger, nor any thing else that passes the bounds of nature, can be good for man. Temperance and moderation in eating and drinking, are nature's great preservatives. 'The throat has destroyed more than the sword.' Some people are apt to think, the more plentifully they eat and drink, the better they thrive, and the stronger they grow. But this is not the case: a little, well digested, will render the body more vigorous than when it is glutted with superfluity, most of which is turned to excrementitious, not alimentary, fluid, and must soon be evacuated, or sickness will follow. It is said of the highly celebrated Dr. Boerhaäve, that having long promised to a friend the secret of preserving health and long life, his friend became impatient to obtain the secret, when he perceived that the physician was dying. To his repeated solicitations, the doctor as frequently replied, 'Do not eat too much--do not eat too much;' and left this advice as his last legacy to his valued friend. By loading the stomach, digestion is impeded; for the natural juice of the stomach, which is the great medium of digestion, has not then room to exert itself. The stomach therefore nauseates its contents, and is troubled with eructations; the spirits are oppressed, obstructions ensue, and disease is the consequence. Besides, when thus overfilled, the stomach presses on the diaphragm, prevents the proper play of the lungs, and occasions difficulty and uneasiness in breathing. Hence arise various bad symptoms and effects, throughout the whole of the animal economy; prostrating the strength, impairing the senses, hastening old age, and shortening life. Though these unhappy consequences may not be immediately perceived, yet they are the certain attendants of intemperance; and it has been generally observed in great eaters, that though from custom, a state of youth, and a strong constitution, they suffer no present inconvenience, but have digested their food, and sustained the surfeit; yet if they have not been unexpectedly cut off, they have found the symptoms of old age come on early in life, attended with pains and innumerable disorders. If health is to be regarded, we must ever make it a rule not to eat to satiety or fulness, but desist while the stomach feels quite easy. Thus we shall be refreshed, light, and cheerful; not dull, heavy, or indisposed. Should we ever be tempted to eat too much at one time, we should eat the less at another: abstinence is the best remedy for repletion. If our dinner has been larger than usual, let our supper be less, or rather, quite omitted. With regard to the times of eating, they must to a certain degree be conformed to family convenience, but ought to be quite independent of the caprice of fashion, instead of being as they are, governed by it. This, and a want of punctuality to the dinner hour, are the cause of more real harm to the constitution than thoughtless people of fashion, and their more thoughtless imitators, are apt to imagine. When a dinner is dressed, nothing can prevent its being injured by standing. It may be kept hot, and this imposes on those who think no farther upon the subject; but the very means made use of for this purpose, only help to spoil it the more. If things boiled are kept in the water after they are done enough, they become sodden, vapid, and heavy. The invention of hot closets for keeping other things hot, dry away the juices, and make them strong and rancid. From such dinners, indigestions will ensue, frequent head-aches, nervousness, and many other uneasy sensations, which finally bring on maladies of a more serious nature. The great points to be guarded against, respecting the times of eating, are either eating too soon after a former meal, or fasting too long. The stomach should always have time to empty itself, before it is filled again. Some stomachs digest their contents sooner than others, and if long empty it may destroy the appetite, and greatly disturb both the head and animal spirits; because from the great profusion of nerves spread over the stomach, there is an immediate sympathy between that and the head. Hence the head is sure to be affected by whatever disorders the stomach, whether from any particular aliment that disagrees with it, or being over filled, or too long empty. Hence also, too frequently, arise apoplexy, or paralytic affections, especially in aged people. Such as feel a gnawing in the stomach, as it is called, should not wait till the stated time of the next meal, but take a small quantity of food, light, and easy of digestion, that the stomach may have something to work on. Children, with craving appetites, do and may eat often, allowing only a proper interval to empty the stomach. Young persons in health, who use much exercise, may eat three times a day. But such as are in years, such as are weak, as do no work, or lead a sedentary life, eating twice in the day is quite sufficient: or if in the present habits of society it is found to be difficult to arrange for two meals only, let them take three very moderate ones. Weak and aged persons may eat often, but then it should be very little at a time. The diseases to which we are liable often require substances of more active principles than what are found in common aliment, and hence the need of medicine, in order to, produce sudden alterations. But where such alterations are not immediately necessary, the same effect may be produced with much greater safety, by a proper attention to diet only. Abstinence is in short, one of the best remedies to which we can resort; and if employed in time, will entirely cure many disorders, and check the violence of such as cannot be entirely carried off by it. In all cases where there is any inflammation, and in stomach complaints, it is particularly necessary, and may be safely continued till the symptoms of disease disappear. Where the digestion is habitually weak, a day of abstinence once a week will always be beneficial. The quality of our food is a subject of greater difficulty than the quantity. Moderation is an invariably safe guide in the latter case; but though always favourable to prevent ill effects from any error in quality, it will not always be effectual. To a person in good health, with a strong stomach, and whose constant beverage is water, or some weak liquor, the niceties in food and cooking are less material, than to persons with naturally weak stomachs, or to those in sickness, or for children. But all persons who would to a certainty preserve their health and faculties, and live out the natural term of life, should use plain food, as all high seasonings and compound mixtures, have an injurious effect, sooner or later, on the strongest constitutions. If a few instances can be shewn to the contrary, these, like other anomalies in nature, cannot constitute an exception to a well established fact. A prevailing error in the diet of this country is a too great use of animal food. The disease called the sea scurvy, often occurs from this cause, in every large town in England; and it is probable that the frequency and fatality of putrid and scarlet fevers may justly be attributed to it also. The prejudices of this country are very strong in favour of animal food, but the evidence of facts is equally strong against its absolute necessity. Instances of this are seen in the natives of Hindostan, who live upon rice, and who by way of opprobrium call the inhabitants of this country 'flesh eaters;' in the poor of Ireland, who live upon potatoes, and in the poor of Scotland, who live upon oatmeal. After all, the medium is in all probability the best; neither animal nor vegetable diet exclusively, but a reasonable proportion of both. Persons of indifferent health should be particularly cautious in their diet, and those labouring under any particular malady should carefully conform to the regimen prescribed for them by their medical advisers.--Our beverage is another very important article, in reference to health. It is essential to moisten and convey more solid food into the stomach, and from thence to the respective parts of the system. Also to allay thirst, to dilute the blood, that it may circulate through the minutest vessels, and to dissolve and carry off by watery secretions the superfluous salts taken in with the food. No liquid is so effectual for this purpose as pure water; with the exception only of a few cases. No other liquid circulates so well, or mixes so immediately with our fluids. Other liquids are impregnated with particles which act strongly upon the solids or fluids, or both; but water being simple, operates only by diluting, moistening, and cooling, which are the great uses of drink pointed out to us by nature. Hence it is evident that water in general is the best and most wholesome drink; but as some constitutions require something to warm and stimulate the stomach, fermented liquors may be proper, if taken in moderation. It is necessary however, that beer, ale, cider, and wine, be taken in a sound state and of proper age, or they will be highly detrimental. Spirituous liquors, taken too freely, or in a raw state, are attended with direful effects, and are the destruction of thousands. From the degree of heat they have undergone in distillation, they acquire a corrosive and burning quality, which makes them dangerous to the constitution. They contract the fibres and smaller vessels, especially where they are tenderest, as in the brain, and thus destroy the intellectual faculties. They injure the coat of the stomach, and so expose the nerves and relax the fibres, till the whole stomach becomes at last soft and flabby. Hence ensues loss of appetite, indigestion, and diseases that generally terminate in premature death. Light wines of a moderate strength, and matured by age, are more wholesome than strong, rich, and heavy wines, and pass off the stomach with less difficulty. Red port is strong and astringent, but white port and Spanish wines are stimulating and attenuating. French wines are lighter, and not so strong as the Portuguese and Spanish wines, which renders them wholesomer for thin and dry constitutions. Rhenish and Moselle wines are the most wholesome of any, where acidity is not hurtful. Home made wines are prejudicial to all constitutions, being very windy and heady. The notion that liquors of any kind assist digestion, is quite erroneous, as wine and all other strong liquors are as hard to digest as strong solid food. Those who drink only water or small beer at their meals, are able to eat and digest almost double the quantity of what they could, if they drank strong liquors. When the stomach is uneasy from too much food, or such as is indigestible, strong liquors produce a deceitful glow in the stomach, which induces a belief of their having the beneficial effect of assisting digestion. The fallacy of this conclusion is sufficiently apparent from the state in which cherries are found, after they have been steeped in brandy: instead of becoming more tender, they are rendered as tough as leather. Similar effects are produced on food in the stomach, as well as out of it. Strong liquors are plainly improper at meals, as by their heat and activity they hurry the food undigested into the habit, and so lay the foundation for various distempers, such as the gout, rheumatism, apoplexy, and palsy. RENNET. This article, so necessary in making of cheese, is prepared as follows. Take out the stomach of a calf as soon as killed, and scour it inside and out with salt, after it is cleared of the curd always found in it. Let it drain a few hours, then sow it up with two good handfuls of salt in it, or stretch it on a stick well salted, and hang it up to dry.--Another way. Clean the maw as above, and let it drain a day. Then put into two quarts of fresh spring-water a handful of hawthorn tops, a handful of sweet briar, a handful of rose leaves, a stick of cinnamon, forty cloves, four blades of mace, a sprig of knotted marjoram, and two large spoonfuls of salt. Let them boil gently till the liquor is reduced to three pints, and strain it off; when only milk warm, pour it on the maw. Slice a lemon into it, let it stand two days, strain it again, and bottle it for use. It will keep good at least for twelve months, and has a very fine flavour. Sweet aromatic herbs may also be added. The liquor must be pretty salt, but not made into brine: a little of it will turn the milk. Salt the maw again for a week or two, and dry it stretched on cross sticks, and it will be nearly as strong as before. The rennet when dried must be kept in a cool place. RESENTMENT. This is a dangerous passion, and often fatal to health. Anger disorders the whole frame, hurries on the circulation of the blood, occasions fevers and other acute disorders, and sometimes ends in sudden death. Resentment also preys upon the mind, and occasions the most obstinate disorders, which gradually waste the constitution. Those who value health therefore, will guard against indulging this malignant propensity, and endeavour to preserve a happy degree of tranquillity. RHEUMATISM. In this complaint the diet should be nourishing, with a little generous wine; costiveness must be carefully avoided. The painful part should be kept warm with flannel, should be frequently rubbed, occasionally electrified, and supplied with the volatile liniment. Blisters, cataplasms of mustard or horseradish, may be applied with advantage. If these be not effectual, take a pint of the spirits of turpentine, and add half an ounce of camphor. Let it stand till the camphor is dissolved, then rub it on the part affected night and morning, and it will seldom fail to afford effectual relief. This mixture is also very proper for sprains and bruises, and should be kept for family use. But several of our own domestic plants as above may be used with advantage in the rheumatism. One of the best is the white _mustard_. A table-spoonful of the seed of this plant may be taken twice or thrice a day, in a glass of water or small wine. The water trefoil is likewise of great use in this complaint. It may be infused in wine or ale, or drunk in the form of tea. The ground-ivy, camomile, and several other bitters, are also beneficial, and may be used in the same manner. No benefit, however, is to be expected from these, unless they be taken for a considerable time. Cold bathing, especially in salt water, often cures the rheumatism. It is also advisable to take exercise, and wear flannel next the skin. Issues are likewise very proper, especially in chronic cases. If the pain affects the shoulders, an issue may be made in the arm; but if it affects the loins, it should be put into the leg or thigh. Such as are subject to frequent attacks of the rheumatism ought to make choice of a dry, warm situation, to avoid the night air, wet clothes, and wet feet, as much as possible. Their clothing should be warm, and they should wear flannel next their skin, and make frequent use of the flesh brush. One of the best articles of dress, not only for the prevention of rheumatism, but for powerful co-operation in its cure, is fleecy hosiery. In low marshy situations, the introduction of that manufacture has prevented more rheumatisms, colds, and agues, than all the medicines ever used there. Such of the inhabitants of marshy counties as are in easy circumstances, could not, perhaps, direct their charity and humanity to a better object than to the supplying their poor neighbours with so cheap and simple a preservative. RHUBARB. By proper attention in the growth and preparation of this root, it may be obtained here nearly in equal goodness to the foreign. The plants are all increased by seeds, which should be sown in autumn soon after they are ripe, where the plants are designed to remain, as their roots being large and fleshy when they are removed, they do not recover it soon; nor do the roots of such removed plants ever grow so large and fair as those which remain where they were sown. When the plants appear in the spring, the ground should be well hoed over, to cut up the weeds; and where they are too close, some should be cut up, leaving them at the first hoeing six or eight inches asunder; but at the second they may be separated to a foot and a half distance, and more. When any weeds appear, the ground should be scuffled over with a Dutch hoe in dry weather; but after the plants cover the ground with their broad leaves, they keep down the weeds without any farther trouble. The ground should be cleaned in autumn when the leaves decay, and in the spring, before the plants begin to put up their new leaves, be dug well between them. In the second year, many of the strongest plants will produce flowers and seeds, and in the third year most of them. It is advised, that the seeds be carefully gathered when ripe, and not permitted to scatter, lest they grow and injure the old plants. The roots continue many years without decaying, and the old roots of the true rhubarb are much preferable to the young ones. The roots may be generally taken up after four years, but if they remain longer it is so much the better. These plants delight in a rich soil, which is not too dry nor over moist: and where there is depth in such land for their roots to run down, they attain a great size, both in the leaves and roots. RHUBARB PIE. Peel the stalks of the plant, cut them about an inch long, put them into a dish with moist sugar, a little water and lemon peel. Put on the crust, and bake it in a moderate oven. RHUBARB PUDDING. Put four dozen clean sticks of rhubarb into a stewpan, with the peel of a lemon, a bit of cinnamon, two cloves, and as much moist sugar as will sweeten it. Set it over the fire, and reduce it to a marmalade. Pass it through a hair sieve, then add the peel of a lemon, half a nutmeg grated, a quarter of a pound of good butter, the yolks of four eggs, and one white, and mix all well together. Line a pie dish with good puff paste, put in the mixture, and bake it half an hour. This will make a good spring pudding. RHUBARB SAUCE. To make a mock gooseberry-sauce for mackarel, reduce three dozen sticks of rhubarb to a marmalade, and sweeten it with moist sugar. Pass it through a hair sieve, and serve it up in a boat.--Mock gooseberry-fool is made of rhubarb marmalade, prepared as for a pudding. Add a pint of good thick cream, serve it up in glasses, or in a deep dish. If wanted in a shape, dissolve two ounces of isinglass in a little water, strain it through a tammis, and when nearly cold put it to the cream. Pour it into a jelly mould, and when set, turn it out into a dish, and serve it up plain. RHUBARB SHERBET. Boil six or eight sticks of clean rhubarb in a quart of water, ten minutes. Strain the liquor through a tammis into a jug, with the peel of a lemon cut very thin, and two table-spoonfuls of clarified sugar. Let it stand five or six hours, and it will be fit to drink. RHUBARB SOUP. There are various ways of dressing garden rhubarb, which serves as an excellent substitute for spring fruit. Peel and well wash four dozen sticks of rhubarb, blanch it in water three or four minutes, drain it on a sieve, and put it into a stewpan with two sliced onions, a carrot, an ounce of lean ham, and a good bit of butter. Let it stew gently over a slow fire till tender, then put in two quarts of rich soup, to which add two or three ounces of bread crumbs, and boil it about fifteen minutes. Skim off all the fat, season with salt and cayenne, pass it through a tammis, and serve it up with fried bread. RHUBARB TART. Cut the stalks in lengths of four or five inches, and take off the thin skin. Lay them in a dish, pour on a thin syrup of sugar and water, cover them with another dish, and let it simmer very slowly for an hour on a hot hearth; or put the rhubarb into a block-tin saucepan, and simmer it over the fire. When cold, make it into a tart; the baking of the crust will be sufficient, if the rhubarb be quite tender. RIBS OF BEEF. The following is an excellent way of dressing this rich and valuable joint. Hang up three ribs three or four days, take out the bones from the whole length, sprinkle it with salt, roll the meat tight, and roast it. If done with spices, and baked as hunter's beef, it is excellent, and nothing can look nicer. RICE BROTH. Put a quarter of a pound of whole rice into a gallon of water. Let it simmer till it is quite soft, then put in a knuckle of veal, or the scrag end of a leg of mutton, with two or three pounds of gravy beef. Stew this very gently for two hours, then put in turnips, carrots, celery, leeks, or any other vegetables. Continue to stew slowly, and when the whole is sufficiently done, season it with salt, and serve it up. RICE CAKE. Mix ten ounces of ground rice, three ounces of flour, and eight ounces of pounded sugar. Sift the composition by degrees into eight yolks and six whites of eggs, and the peel of a lemon shred so fine that it is quite mashed. Mix the whole well in a tin stewpan with a whisk, over a very slow fire. Put it immediately into the oven in the same, and bake it forty minutes.--Another. Beat twelve yolks and six whites of eggs, with the peels of two lemons grated. Mix one pound of rice flour, eight ounces of fine flour, and a pound of sugar pounded and sifted. Beat it well with the eggs by degrees, for an hour, with a wooden spoon. Butter a pan well, and put it in at the oven mouth. A gentle oven will bake it in an hour and a half. RICE CAUDLE. When the water boils, pour into it some grated rice, with a little cold water. When of a proper consistence, add sugar, lemon peel, cinnamon, and a spoonful of brandy, and boil all smooth.--Another way. Soak in water some fine rice for an hour, strain it, and put two spoonfuls of the rice into a pint and a quarter of milk. Simmer till it will pulp through a sieve, then put the pulp and milk into the saucepan, with a bruised clove, and a bit of lump sugar. Simmer all together ten minutes; if too thick, add a spoonful or two of milk, and serve with thin toast. RICE CHEESECAKES. Boil four ounces of ground rice in milk, with a blade of cinnamon: put it into a pot, and let it stand till the next day. Mash it fine with half a pound of butter; add to it four eggs, half a pint of cream, a grated nutmeg, a glass of brandy, and a little sugar. Or the butter may be stirred and melted in the rice while it is hot, and left in the pot till the next day. RICE CUSTARD. Boil three pints of new milk with a little cinnamon, lemon peel, and sugar. Mix the yolks of two eggs well beaten, with a large spoonful of rice flour, smothered in a cup of cold milk. Take a basin of the boiling milk, mix it with the cold that has the rice in it, and add it to the remainder of the boiling milk, stirring it one way till it begins to thicken. Pour it into a pan, stir it till it is cool, and add a spoonful of brandy or orange water. This is a good imitation of cream custard, and considerably cheaper. RICE EDGING. After soaking and picking some fine Carolina rice, boil it in salt and water, until sufficiently tender, but not to mash. Drain, and put it round the inner edge of the dish, to the height of two inches. Smooth it with the back of a spoon, wash it over with the yolk of an egg, and put it into the oven for three or four minutes. This forms an agreeable edging for currie or fricassee, with the meat served in the middle. RICE FLUMMERY. Boil with a pint of new milk, a bit of lemon peel and cinnamon. Mix with a little cold milk as much rice flour as will make the whole of a good consistence, add a little sugar, and a spoonful of peach water, or a bitter almond beaten. Boil it, but do not let it burn; pour it into a shape or pint basin, taking out the spice. When cold, turn the flummery into a dish, and serve with cream, milk, or custard round. Or put a tea-cupful of cream into half a pint of new milk, a glass of white wine, half a lemon squeezed, and sugar. RICE MILK. Boil half a pound of rice in a quart of water, with a bit of cinnamon, till the water is wasted. Add three pints of milk, an egg beaten up with a spoonful of flour, and stir it till it boils. Then pour it out, sweeten it, and put in currants and nutmeg. RICE PANCAKES. Boil half a pound of rice to a jelly in a small quantity of water; when cold, mix it with a pint of cream, eight eggs, a little salt and nutmeg. Stir in eight ounces of butter just warmed, and add flour sufficient to thicken the batter. Fry in as little lard or dripping as possible. RICE PASTE. To make a rice paste for sweets, boil a quarter of a pound of ground rice in the smallest quantity of water. Strain from it all the moisture possible, beat it in a mortar with half an ounce of butter, and one egg well beaten. It will make an excellent paste for tarts, and other sweet dishes.--To make a rich paste for relishing things, clean some rice, and put it into a saucepan. Add a little milk and water, or milk only, and an onion, and simmer it over the fire till it swells. Put some seasoned chops into a dish, and cover it with the rice. The addition of an egg will make the rice bind the better. Rabbits fricasseed, and covered with rice paste, are very good. RICE PUDDING. If for family use, swell the rice with a very little milk over the fire. Then add more milk, an egg, some sugar, allspice, and lemon peel; and bake it in a deep dish. Or put into a deep pan half a pound of rice washed and picked, two ounces of butter, four ounces of sugar, a little pounded allspice, and two quarts of milk. Less butter will do, or some suet: bake the pudding in a slow oven. Another. Boil a quarter of a pound of rice in a quart of milk, with a stick of cinnamon, till it is thick; stir it often, that it does not burn; pour it into a pan, stir in a quarter of a pound of butter, and grate half a nutmeg; add sugar to your taste, and a small tea-cup of rose-water; stir all together till cold; beat up eight eggs, (leave out half the whites) stir all well together, lay a thin puff paste at the bottom of the dish, and nip the edge; then pour in the pudding and bake it.--Another. To make a plain rice pudding, put half a pound of rice well picked, into three quarts of milk; add half a pound of sugar, a small nutmeg grated, and half a pound of butter; butter the dish with part, and break the rest into the milk and rice; stir all well together, pour it into a dish, and bake it.--Another. To make a boiled rice pudding, take a quarter of a pound of rice well picked and washed, tie it in a cloth, leaving room for it to swell; boil it for an hour; take it up and stir in a quarter of a pound of butter, some nutmeg and sugar; tie it up again very tight, and boil it an hour more. When you send it to table, pour butter and sugar over it.--Another. To make a ground rice pudding. To a pint of milk put four ounces of ground rice; boil it for some time, keeping it stirring, lest it should burn; pour it into a pan, and stir in a quarter of a pound of butter; then beat up six eggs, leaving out half the whites, a little lemon peel finely shred, a little nutmeg grated, a quarter of a pound of sugar, a gill of cream, a little rose-water, and as much salt as you can take up between your thumb and finger; mix all well together, make a puff paste, lay it round the rim of the dish, and bake it.--Lay citron or orange cut very thin, on the top, and strew a few currants on.--Another. To make rice pudding with fruit. Swell half a pound of rice with a very little milk over the fire, and then mix with it any kind of fruit; such as currants, scalded gooseberries, pared and quartered apples, raisins, or black currants. Put an egg into the pudding to bind it, boil it well, and serve it up with sugar. RICE SAUCE. Steep a quarter of a pound of rice in a pint of milk, with an onion, a dozen pepper corns or allspice, and a little mace. When the rice is quite tender, take out the spice, and rub the rice through a sieve into a clean stewpan: if too thick, put a little milk or cream to it. This makes a very delicate white sauce; and at elegant tables, is frequently used instead of bread sauce. RICE SOUFFLE. Blanch some Carolina rice, strain and boil it in milk, with lemon peel and a bit of cinnamon. Let it boil till the rice is dry; then cool it, and raise a rim three inches high round the dish, having egged the dish where it is put, to make it stick. Then egg the rice all over. Fill the dish half way up with a marmalade of apples; have ready the whites of four eggs beaten to a fine froth, and put them over the marmalade. Sift fine sugar over, and set it in the oven, which should be warm enough to give it a beautiful colour. RICE SOUP. Boil a pound of rice with a little cinnamon, in two quarts of water. Take out the cinnamon, add a little sugar and nutmeg, and let it stand to cool. Then beat up the yolks of three eggs in a little white wine, and mix it with the rice. Set it on a slow fire, stir it well, and take it up as soon as it has boiled to a proper thickness. RICH GIBLET SOUP. Take four pounds of gravy beef, two pounds of scrag of mutton, two pounds of scrag of veal; stew them well down together in a sufficient quantity of water for a strong broth, let it stand till it is quite cold, then skim the fat clean off. Take two pair of giblets well scalded and cleaned, put them into your broth, and let them simmer till they are stewed tender; then take out your giblets, and run the soup through a fine sieve to catch the small bones; then take an ounce of butter and put it into a stew-pan, mixing a proper quantity of flour, which make of a fine light brown. Take a small handful of chives, the same of parsley, a very little penny-royal, and a very little sweet marjoram; chop all these herbs together excessive small, put your soup over a slow fire, put in your giblets, butter and flour, and small herbs; then take a pint of Madeira wine, some cayenne pepper, and salt to your palate. Let them all simmer together, till the herbs are tender, and the soup is finished. Send it to the table with the giblets in it. Let the livers be stewed in a saucepan by themselves, and put in when you dish. RICH GRAVY. Cut lean beef into small slices, according to the quantity wanted; slice some onions thin, and flour them both. Fry them of a light pale brown, but do not suffer them on any account to get black. Put them into a stewpan, pour boiling water on the browning in the fryingpan, boil it up, and pour it on the meat. Add a bunch of parsley, thyme, and savoury, a small piece of marjoram, the same of taragon, some mace, berries of allspice, whole black pepper, a clove or two, and a bit of ham, or gammon of bacon. Simmer till the juice of the meat is extracted, and skim it the moment it boils. If for a hare, or stewed fish, anchovy should be added. RICH GRAVY SOUP. Take a pound of lean beef, two pounds of veal, and a pound of mutton cut in pieces; put them into a pot, with six quarts of water, a large faggot of sweet herbs, an onion stuck with cloves, some whole pepper, a little mace, and the upper crust of bread toasted brown. Put in an ox palate well cleaned and blanched whole; set it over a slow fire, and let it stew till half is wasted; strain it off, and put it into a clean saucepan. Take off the ox palate, shred small, some cock's combs blanched, an ounce of morels cut in pieces, four large heads of celery well washed, and cut small, with the heart of four or five savoys, about as big as a turkey's egg, put in whole; cover it close, and let it stew softly for an hour and a half. If it want any more seasoning, add it; cut some French bread toasts thin, and crisp them before the fire. When your soup is ready, lay your bread in the dish, and put in your soup. RICH HOME-MADE WINE.--Take new cider from the press, mix it with as much honey as will support an egg, boil it gently fifteen minutes, but not in an iron, brass, or copper pot. Skim it well, and tun it when cool, but the cask must not be quite full. Bottle it in the following March, and it will be fit to drink in six weeks, but it will be less sweet if kept longer in the cask. This will make a rich and strong wine, suitable for culinary purposes, where milk or sweet wine is to be employed. Honey, besides its other valuable uses, is a fine ingredient to assist and render palatable, new or harsh cider. RICH PLUM PUDDING. To make a small, but very rich plum pudding, shred fine three quarters of a pound of suet, and half a pound of stoned raisins, chopped a little. Add three spoonfuls of flour, as much moist sugar, a little salt and nutmeg, the yolks of three, and the whites of two eggs. Let it boil four hours in a basin or tin mould, well buttered. When the pudding is served up, pour over it some melted butter, with white wine and sugar.--For a larger pudding of the same description, shred three pounds of suet; add a pound and a half of raisins stoned and chopped, a pound and a half of currants, three pounds of good flour, sixteen eggs, and a quart of milk. Boil it in a cloth seven hours. RICH RICE PUDDING. Boil half a pound of rice in water, till it is quite tender, adding a little salt. Drain it dry, mix it with four eggs, a quarter of a pint of cream, and two ounces of fresh butter melted in the cream. Add four ounces of beef suet or marrow, or veal suet taken from the fillet, finely shred; three quarters of a pound of currants, two spoonfuls of brandy, a spoonful of peach water or ratifia, nutmeg, and grated lemon peel. When well mixed, put a paste round the edge, fill the dish, and bake it in a moderate oven. Slices of candied orange, lemon, and citron, may be added. RICKETS. This disease generally attacks children between the age of nine months and two years; and as it is always attended with evident signs of weakness and relaxation, the chief aim in the cure must be to brace and strengthen the solids, and to promote digestion and the due preparation of the fluids. These important ends will be best answered by wholesome nourishing diet, suited to the age and strength of the patient, open dry air, and sufficient exercise. The limbs should be rubbed frequently with a warm hand, and the child kept as cheerful as possible. Biscuit is generally reckoned the best bread; and pigeons, pullet, veal, rabbits, or mutton roasted or minced, are the most proper meat. If the child be too young for animal food, he may have rice, millet, or pearl barley, boiled with raisins, to which may be added a little wine and spice. His drink may be good claret, mixed with an equal quantity of water. Those who cannot afford claret, may give the child now and then a wine glass of mild ale, or good porter. The disease may often be cured by the nurse, but seldom by the physician. In children of a gross habit, gentle vomits and repeated purges of rhubarb may sometimes be of use, but they will seldom carry off the disease; that must depend chiefly upon such things as brace and strengthen the system; for which purpose, besides the regimen mentioned above, the cold bath, especially in the warm season, is highly recommended. It must, however, be used with prudence, as some ricketty children cannot bear it. The best time for using the cold bath is in the morning, and the child should be well rubbed with a dry cloth immediately after he comes out of it. RING WORM. This eruption, which generally appears on the head, in a circular form, attended with painful itching, is sometimes removed by rubbing it with black ink, or mushroom ketchup. The following preparation is also recommended. Wash some roots of sorrel quite clean, bruise them in a mortar, and steep them in white wine vinegar for two or three days. Then rub the liquor on the ring worm three or four times a day, till it begin to disappear. ROASTING. The first requisite for roasting is to have a clear brisk fire, proportioned to the joint that is to be roasted; without this every attempt must prove abortive. Next to see that the spit is properly cleaned before it enters the meat, and the less it passes through it the better. Neck and loins require to be carefully jointed before they are put on the spit, that the carver may separate them easily and neatly. The joint should be balanced evenly on the spit, that its motion may be regular, and the fire operate equally on every part; for this purpose cook-holds and balancing skewers are necessary. All roasting should be done open to the air, to ventilate the meat from its own fumes, and by the radiant heat of a glowing fire; otherwise it is in fact baked, and rendered less wholesome. Hence what are called Rumford roasters, and the machines invented by economical gratemakers, are utterly to be rejected. If they save any thing in fuel, which is doubtful, they are highly injurious to the flavour and best qualities of the meat. For the same reason, when a joint is dressed, it is better to keep it hot by the fire, than to put it under a cover, that the exhalations may freely escape. In making up the fire for roasting, it should be three or four inches longer at each end than the article on the spit, or the ends of the meat cannot be done nice and brown. Half an hour at least before the roasting begins, prepare the fire, by putting on a few coals so as to be sufficiently lighted by the time the fire is wanted. Put some of them between the bars, and small coals or cinders wetted at the back of the fire; and never put down meat to a burnt up fire. In small families, not provided with a jack or spit, a bottle jack, sold by the ironmongers, is a valuable instrument for roasting; and where this cannot be had, a skewer and a string, or rather a quantity of coarse yarn loosely twisted, is as philosophical as any of them, and will answer the purpose as well. Do not put meat too near the fire at first. The larger the joint, the farther it must be kept from the fire: if once it gets scorched, the outside will become hard, and acquire a disagreeable taste. If the fire is prevented from penetrating into it, the meat will appear done, before it is little more than half ready, besides losing the pale brown colour which is the beauty of roast meat. From ten to fourteen inches is the usual distance at which it is put from the grate, when first laid down; and afterwards it should be brought nearer by degrees. If the joint is thicker at one end than the other, lay the spit slanting, with the thickest part nearest the fire. When the article is thin and tender, the fire should be small and brisk; but for a large joint the fire should be strong, and equally good in every part of the grate, or the meat cannot be equally roasted, nor possess that uniform colour which is the test of good cooking. Give the fire a good stirring before the meat is laid down, keep it clear at the bottom, and take care that there are no smoky coals in the front, to spoil the look and taste of the meat. If a jack be used, it should be carefully oiled and kept clean, and covered from the dust, or it will never go well. The dripping pan should be placed at such a distance from the fire as just to catch the drippings; if it be too near, the ashes will fall into it, and spoil the drippings. If too far from the fire to catch them, the drippings will not only be lost, but the meat will be blackened, and spoiled by the fetid smoke, which will arise when the fat falls on the live cinders. The meat must be well basted, to keep it moist. When it does not supply dripping enough for this purpose, add some that has been saved on former occasions, and nicely prepared, which answers as well or better than butter. Meat should not be sprinkled with salt till nearly done, as it tends to draw out the gravy. Basting with a little salt and water, when the meat is first laid down, is often done, but the practice is not good. Where the fat is very fine and delicate, it is best to cover it with writing paper to prevent its wasting; but in general it is as well to expose it to the action of the fire, and let it fall into the dripping pan. Half an hour before the meat is done, prepare some gravy if necessary; and just before it is taken up, put it nearer the fire to brown it. If it is to be frothed, baste and dredge it carefully with flour. The common fault is that of using too much flour; the meat should have a fine light varnish of froth, not the appearance of being covered with a paste; and those who are particular about the froth, use butter instead of dripping. When the roast is quite done, it is best to take it up directly, as every moment beyond doing it enough does it an injury. If it cannot be sent to table immediately, which is most desirable, it should be kept hot, but so as to suffer the fumes to escape. With respect to the time required for roasting, the general rule of a quarter of an hour to a pound of meat, is a pretty fair one, but it will not do for all kinds of joints. The use of a meat screen must also be considered, as it tends materially to assist the operation, by concentrating the heat, and excluding the cold drafts of air. Attention must be paid to the nature of the joint, whether thick or thin, the strength of the fire, the nearness of the meat to it, and the frequency with which it is basted. The more it is basted the less time it will take, as it keeps the meat soft and mellow on the outside, and the fire acts upon it with greater force. Much will depend on the time the meat has been kept, and on the temperature of the weather. The same weight will be twenty minutes or half an hour longer in cold weather, than it will be in warm weather; and when the meat is fresh slain, than when it has been kept till it is tender. If meat get frozen, it should be thawed by lying some time in cold water; and then be well dried in a clean cloth, before it is laid down to the fire. A sirloin of BEEF, weighing from twenty-five to thirty pounds, will generally take four hours; a part of it, from twelve to fifteen pounds, two hours and three quarters, or three hours. A piece of ribs of the same weight, much the same time, and a rump four hours. A sheet of paper should be tied over the thin part, or it will burn before the thick part is done enough. A leg of MUTTON, weighing eight or nine pounds, will require two hours and a quarter; a shoulder of seven pounds, an hour and three quarters; a chine of ten or eleven pounds, two hours and a half; a loin, rather more than an hour and a half; a neck, the same; a breast, an hour. A haunch of mutton should be dressed like venison, only in proportion as it may be less, it must not roast quite so long. A fillet of VEAL, from twelve to fourteen pounds weight, requires three hours and twenty minutes. This is usually stuffed, either in the place of the bone, when that is taken out, or under the flap. A loin takes two hours and a half, a shoulder two hours and twenty minutes, a neck nearly two hours, and a breast an hour and a half. These directions suppose the joints to be of a common size. If they are very thick, a little more time must be allowed. When veal is quite small, the time must be reduced accordingly. A quarter of LAMB, of a moderate size, will require two hours; a leg, an hour and forty minutes; a shoulder, an hour and twenty minutes; a loin, the same; a neck, an hour and ten minutes; a breast, three quarters of an hour; and ribs, an hour and a half. A leg of PORK, weighing seven pounds, will require nearly two hours; a loin of five pounds, an hour and twenty minutes. Both these should be scored across in narrow stripes, before they are laid down to the fire. A sparerib of eight or nine pounds, will take an hour and three quarters; a griskin of six or seven pounds, an hour and a quarter; a chine, if parted down the back-bone so as to have but one side, two hours; if not parted, it will take four hours.--The BASTINGS proper for roast meat, are fresh butter, clarified suet, salt and water, yolks of eggs, grated biscuit, and orange juice. For mutton and lamb, minced sweet herbs, butter and claret; and for roast pig, melted butter and cream. The DREDGINGS, are flour mixed with grated bread; sweet herbs dried and powdered, and mixed with grated bread; lemon peel dried and pounded, or orange peel mixed with flour; sugar finely powdered, and mixed with pounded cinnamon, and flour, or grated bread; fennel seeds, corianders, cinnamon, sugar finely powdered, and mixed with grated bread or flour; sugar, bread, and salt mixed. For young pigs, grated bread or flour mixed with pounded nutmeg, ginger, pepper, sugar, and yolks of eggs. ROAST BEEF. Take care that your spit and dripping-pan be very clean; and to prepare your fire according to the size of the joint you have to dress. If it be a sirloin or chump, butter a piece of writing paper, and fasten it on to the back of your meat, with small skewers, and lay it down to a good clear fire, at a proper distance. As soon as your meat is warm, dust on some flour, and baste it with butter; then sprinkle some salt, and at times baste with what drips from it. About a quarter of an hour before you take it up, remove the paper, dust on a little flour, and baste with a piece of butter, that it may go to table with a good froth, but not look greasy. A piece of ten pounds requires about two hours and a half, and others in proportion. Salad and vegetables are eaten with it, also mustard and horseradish. ROAST CALF'S HEAD. Wash the head very clean, take out the brains, and dry it well with a cloth. Make a seasoning of pepper, salt, nutmeg, and cloves; add a slice of bacon finely minced, and some grated bread. Strew the seasoning over the head, roll it up, skewer and tie it close with tape. Roast and baste it with butter. Make veal gravy thickened with butter rolled in flour, and garnish the edge of the dish with fried brains. ROAST CALF'S LIVER. Cut a hole in the liver, and stuff it with crumbs of bread, mixed with chopped onions and herbs, salt, pepper, butter, and an egg. Sew up the liver, wrap it up in a veal caul, and roast it. Serve it up with brown gravy, and currant jelly. ROAST CHEESE. Grate three ounces of fat Cheshire cheese, mix it with the yolks of two eggs, four ounces of grated bread, and three ounces of butter. Beat the whole well in a mortar, with a dessert-spoonful of mustard, and a little salt and pepper. Toast some bread, cut it into proper pieces, lay the above paste thick upon them, and lay them into a Dutch oven covered with a dish till they are hot through. Remove the dish, to let the paste brown a little, and serve it up as hot as possible, immediately after dinner. ROAST CHICKENS. Being cleaned and trussed, put them down to a good fire. Singe them, dust them with flour, and baste them well with butter. Make gravy of their necks and gizzards, or of beef. Strain the gravy, and pour it into the dish, adding parsley and butter, or egg sauce. ROAST COLLARED BEEF. Take out the inside meat from a sirloin of beef, sprinkle it with vinegar, and let it hang till the next day. Prepare a stuffing as for a hare, put this at one end of the meat, roll the rest round it, bind it very close, and roast it gently for an hour and three quarters, or a little more or less, proportioned to the thickness. Serve it up with gravy the same as for hare, and with currant jelly. ROAST COLLARED MUTTON. If a loin of mutton has been collared, take off the fat from the upper side, and the meat from the under side. Bone the joint, season it with pepper and salt, and some shalot or sweet herbs, chopped very small. Let it be rolled up very tight, well tied round, and roasted gently. About an hour and a half will do it. While this is roasting, half boil the meat taken from the under side, then mince it small, put it into half a pint of gravy; and against the time that the mutton is ready, heat this and pour it into the dish when it is served up. ROAST COLLARED PORK. When a neck of pork has been collared, and is intended for roasting, the bones must be taken out. Strew the inside with bread crumbs, chopped sage, a very little pounded allspice, some pepper and salt, all mixed together. Roll it up very close, bind it tight, and roast it gently. An hour and a half or little more, according to the thickness, will roast it enough. A loin of pork with the fat and kidney taken out and boned, and a forehand of pork boned, are very nice dressed in the same way. ROAST DUCK. If two are dressed, let one of them be unseasoned, in order to suit the company. Stuff the other with sage and onion, a dessert-spoonful of crumbs, a bit of butter, with pepper and salt. Serve them up with a fine gravy. ROAST EEL. Take a good large silver eel, draw and skin it, and cut it in pieces of four inches long. Spit them crossways on a small spit, with bay leaves, or large sage leaves between each piece. When roasted, serve up the fish with butter beaten with orange or lemon juice, and some grated nutmeg. Or serve it with venison sauce, and dredge it with pounded carraway seeds, cinnamon, or grated bread. ROAST FOWL. A large barn-door fowl, well hung, should be stuffed in the crop with sausage meat. The head should be turned under the wing, as a turkey. Serve with gravy in the dish, and bread sauce. Roast fowl in general may be garnished with sausages, or scalded parsley. Egg sauce or bread sauce are equally proper. ROAST GOOSE. After the fowl is picked, the plugs of the feathers pulled out, and the hairs carefully singed, let it be well washed and dried. Put in a seasoning of shred onion and sage, pepper and salt. Fasten it tight at the neck and rump, and then roast it. Put it first at a distance from the fire, and by degrees draw it nearer, and baste it well. A slip of paper should be skewered on the breast-bone; when the breast is rising, take off the paper, and be careful to serve it before the breast falls, or it will be spoiled by coming flat to the table. Send up a good gravy in the dish, with apple and gravy sauce. For a green goose, gooseberry sauce. ROAST GRISKIN. Put a piece of pork griskin into a stewpan, with very little more water than will just cover it. Let it boil gradually, and when it has fairly boiled up, take it out. Rub it over with a piece of butter, strew it with a little chopped sage and a few bread crumbs, and roast it in a Dutch oven. It will require doing but a little while. ROAST HARE. After it is skinned, let it be extremely well washed, and then soaked an hour or two in water. If an old hare, lard it, which will make it tender, as also will letting it lie in vinegar. But if put into vinegar, it should be very carefully washed in water afterwards. Make a stuffing of the liver, with an anchovy, some fat bacon, a little suet, all finely minced; adding pepper, salt, nutmeg, a little onion, some sweet herbs, crumbs of bread, and an egg to bind it all. Then put the stuffing, a pretty large one, into the belly of the hare, and sew it up. Baste it well with milk till half done, and afterwards with butter. If the blood has settled in the neck, soaking the part in warm water, and putting it to the fire, will remove it, especially if the skin be nicked a little with a small knife to let it out. The hare should be kept at a distance from the fire at first. Serve it up with a fine froth, some melted butter, currant-jelly sauce, and a rich gravy in the dish. The ears being reckoned a dainty, should be nicely cleaned and singed. For the manner of trussing a hare or rabbit, see Plate. ROAST HEART. Take some suet, parsley, and sweet marjoram, chopped fine. Add some bread crumbs, grated lemon peel, pepper, salt, mustard, and an egg. Mix these into a paste, and stuff the heart with it. Whether baked or roasted, serve it up with gravy and melted butter. Baking is best, if it be done carefully, as it will be more regularly done than it can be by roasting. Calf's or bullock's heart are both dressed in the same way. ROAST LAMB. Lay the joint down to a good clear fire, that will want little stirring; then baste it with butter, and dust on a little flour; after that, baste it with what falls from it; and a little before you take it up baste it again with butter, and sprinkle on a little salt. ROAST LARKS. Put a dozen larks on a skewer, and tie both ends of the skewer to the spit. Dredge and baste them, and let them roast ten minutes. Take the crumb of a penny loaf, grate it, and put it into a fryingpan, with a little bit of butter. Shake it over a gentle fire till it becomes brown; lay it between the birds on a dish, and pour melted butter over it. ROAST LEG OF PORK. Choose a small leg of fine young pork, cut a slit in the knuckle with a sharp knife, fill the space with chopped sage and onion, mixed together with a little pepper and salt. When half roasted, score the skin in slices, but do not cut deeper than the outer rind. Eat it with potatoes and apple sauce. ROAST LOBSTER. When the lobster is half boiled, take it out of the water; and while hot, rub it with butter, and lay it before the fire. Continue basting it with butter till it has a fine froth. ROAST MUTTON AND LAMB. These require to be well roasted, before a quick clear fire. A small fore quarter of lamb will take an hour and a half. Baste the joint as soon as it is laid down, and sprinkle on a little salt. When nearly done, dredge it with flour. In dressing a loin or saddle of mutton, the skin must be loosened, and then skewered on; but it should be removed before the meat is done, and the joint basted and made to froth up. When a fore quarter is sent to table, the shoulder may be taken off, the ribs a little seasoned with pepper and salt, and a lemon squeezed over them. Serve up the joint with vegetables and mint sauce. For a breast of mutton, make a savoury forcemeat, if the bones are taken out, and wash it over with egg. Spread the forcemeat upon it, roll it up, bind it with packthread, and serve it up with gravy sauce. Or roast it with the bones in, without the forcemeat. ROAST ONIONS. They should be roasted with all the skins on. They eat well alone, with only salt and cold butter; or with beet root, or roast potatoes. ROAST PHEASANTS. Dust them with flour, baste them often with butter, and keep them at a good distance from the fire. Make the gravy of a scrag of mutton, a tea-spoonful of lemon pickle, a large spoonful of ketchup, and the same of browning. Strain it, and put a little of it into the dish. Serve them up with bread sauce in a basin, and fix one of the principal feathers of the pheasant in its tail. A good fire will roast them in half an hour. Guinea and pea fowls eat much like pheasants, and are to be dressed in the same way. ROAST PARTRIDGES. Partridges will take full twenty minutes. Before they are quite done, dredge them with flour, and baste them with fresh butter; let them go to table with a fine froth, and gravy sauce in the dish, and bread sauce in a tureen. The bread sauce should be made as follows. Take a good piece of stale bread, and put it into a pint of water, with some whole pepper, a blade of mace, and a bit of onion: let it boil till the bread is soft; then take out the spice and onion; pour out the water, and beat the bread with a spoon till it is like pap; put in a good piece of butter, and a little salt; set it over the fire for two or three minutes. ROAST PIG. A sucking pig for roasting, should be put into cold water for a few minutes, as soon as it is killed. Then rub it over with a little rosin finely powdered, and put it into a pail of scalding water half a minute. Take it out, lay it on a table, and pull off the hair as quickly as possible: if any part does not come off, put it in again. When quite clean from hair, wash it well in warm water, and then in two or three cold waters, that no flavour of the rosin may remain. Take off all the feet at the first joint, make a slit down the belly, and take out the entrails: put the liver, heart, and lights to the feet. Wash the pig well in cold water, dry it thoroughly, and fold it in a wet cloth to keep it from the air. When thus scalded and prepared for roasting, put into the belly a mixture of chopped sage, bread crumbs, salt and pepper, and sow it up. Lay it down to a brisk fire till thoroughly dry; then have ready some butter in a dry cloth, and rub the pig with it in every part. Dredge over it as much flour as will lie on, and do not touch it again till it is ready for the table. Then scrape off the flour very carefully with a blunt knife, rub it well with the buttered cloth, and take off the head while it is at the fire. Take out the brains, and mix them with the gravy that comes from the pig. The legs should be skewered back before roasting, or the under part will not be crisp. Take it up when done, and without drawing the spit, cut it down the back and belly, lay it into the dish, mince the sage and bread very fine, and mix them with a large quantity of good melted butter that has very little flour. Pour the sauce into the dish after the pig has been split down the back, and garnish with the ears and the two jaws: take off the upper part of the head down to the snout. In Devonshire it is served up whole, if very small; the head only being cut off to garnish the dish.--Another way. Spit your pig, and lay it down to a clear fire, kept good at both ends: put into the belly a few sage leaves, a little pepper and salt, a little crust of bread, and a bit of butter, then sew up the belly; flour him all over very well, and do so till the eyes begin to start. When you find the skin is tight and crisp, and the eyes are dropped, put two plates into the dripping pan, to save what gravy comes from him: put a quarter of a pound of butter into a clean coarse cloth, and rub all over him, till the flour is clean taken off; then take it up into your dish, take the sage, &c. out of the belly, and chop it small; cut off the head, open it, and take out the brains, which chop, and put the sage and brains into half a pint of good gravy, with a piece of butter rolled in flour; then cut your pig down the back, and lay him flat in the dish: cut off the two ears, and lay one upon each shoulder; take off the under jaw, cut it in two, and lay one on each side; put the head between the shoulders, pour the gravy out of the plates into your sauce, and then into the dish. Send it to table garnished with a lemon. ROAST PIGEONS. Stuff them with parsley, either cut or whole, and put in a seasoning of pepper and salt. Serve with parsley and butter. Peas or asparagus should be dressed to eat with them. ROAST PIKE. Clean the fish well, and sew up in it the following stuffing. Grated bread crumbs, sweet herbs and parsley chopped, capers and anchovies, pepper, salt, a little fresh butter, and an egg. Turn it round with the tail in its mouth, and roast it gently till it is done of a fine brown. It may be baked, if preferred. Serve it up with a good gravy sauce. ROAST PLOVERS. Green plovers should be roasted like woodcocks, without drawing, and served on a toast. Grey plovers may either be roasted, or stewed with gravy, herbs, and spice. ROAST PORK. Pork requires more doing than any other meat; and it is best to sprinkle it with a little salt the night before you use it, and hang it up; by that means it will take off the faint, sickly taste. When you roast a chine of pork, lay it down to a good fire, and at a proper distance, that it may be well soaked, otherwise it eats greasy and disagreeable. A spare-rib is to be roasted with a fire that is not too strong, but clear; when you lay it down, dust on some flour and baste it with butter: a quarter of an hour before you take it up, shred some sage small; baste your pork; strew on the sage; dust on a little flour, and sprinkle a little salt just before you take it up. A loin must be cut on the skin in small streaks, and then basted; but put no flour on, which would make the skin blister; and see that it is jointed before you lay it down to the fire. A leg of pork is often roasted with sage and onion shred fine, with a little pepper and salt, and stuffed at the knuckle, with gravy in the dish; but a leg of pork done in this manner, parboil it first, and take off the skin; lay it down to a good clear fire; baste it with butter, then shred some sage fine, and mix it with pepper, salt, nutmeg, and bread crumbs; strew this over it the time it is roasting; baste it again with butter, just before you take it up, that it may be of a fine brown, and have a good froth; send up some good gravy in the dish; a griskin roasted in this manner eats finely. ROAST PORKER'S HEAD. Clean it well, put bread and sage into it as for a young pig, sew it up tight, and put it on a hanging jack. Roast it in the same manner as a pig, and serve it up the same. ROAST POTATOES. Half boil them first, then take off the thin peel, and roast them of a beautiful brown. ROAST PULLET. To roast a small hen turkey or a pullet with batter, the bird must first be boned, and filled with forcemeat or stuffing. Then paper it round, and lay it down to roast. When nearly half done, drop off the paper, and baste the bird with a very smooth light batter. When the first basting is dry, baste it again, and repeat this till the bird is nicely crusted over, and sufficiently done. It will require ten minutes or a quarter of an hour longer roasting than a bird of the same size in the common way, on account of its being stuffed with forcemeat. Serve it up with white gravy, or mushroom sauce. ROAST QUAILS. Quails may be dressed and served up like woodcocks; or dressed with the insides stuffed with sweet herbs and beef suet chopped fine, and mixed with a little spice. They must roast rather a shorter time than woodcocks. ROAST RUMP OF BEEF. Let it lie in salt for two days, then wash it, and soak it an hour in a quart of claret, and a pint of elder vinegar. Baste it well with the liquor while roasting. Make a gravy of two beef palates cut thin and boiled, and thickened with burnt butter. Add to it mushrooms and oysters, and serve it up hot. ROAST SIRLOIN. When a sirloin of beef is about three parts roasted, take out the meat from the under side, and mince it nicely. Season it with pepper and salt, and some shalot chopped very small. By the time the beef is roasted, heat this with gravy just sufficient to moisten it. Dish up the beef with the upper side downwards, put the mince in the inside, and strew it with bread crumbs ready prepared. Brown them of a fine colour on a hot salamander over the fire, and then serve up the beef with scraped horseradish laid round it. ROAST SNIPES. Snipes and land rails are dressed exactly in the same manner as woodcocks, but only require a shorter time in roasting. ROAST STURGEON. Put the fish on a lark spit, then tie it on a large spit, and baste it constantly with butter. Serve it with a good gravy, an anchovy, a squeeze of Seville orange or lemon, and a glass of sherry.--Another way is, to put into a stewpan a piece of butter rolled in flour, with four cloves, a bunch of sweet herbs, two onions, pepper and salt, half a pint of water, and a glass of vinegar. Stir it over the fire till hot, then let it become lukewarm, and steep the fish in it an hour or two. Butter a paper well, tie it round, and roast it without letting the spit run through. Serve it with sorrel and anchovy sauce. ROAST SWEETBREADS. Parboil two large ones, and then roast them in a Dutch oven. Use gravy sauce, or plain butter, with mushroom ketchup. ROAST TONGUE. After well cleaning a neat's tongue, salt it for three days with common salt and saltpetre. This makes an excellent dish, with the addition of a young udder, having some fat to it, and boiled till tolerably tender. Then tie the thick part of one to the thin part of the other, and roast the tongue and udder together. A few cloves should be stuck in the udder. Serve them with good gravy, and currant-jelly sauce. Some people like neats' tongues cured with the root, in which case they look much larger; but otherwise the root must be cut off close to the gullet, next to the tongue, but without taking away the fat under the tongue. The root must be soaked in salt and water, and extremely well cleaned, before it is dressed; and the tongue should be laid in salt a day and a night before it is pickled. ROAST TURKEY. The sinews of the leg should be drawn, whichever way it is dressed. The head should be twisted under the wing; and in drawing it, take care not to tear the liver, nor let the gall touch it. Put a stuffing of sausage meat; or if sausages are to be served in the dish, a bread stuffing. As this makes a large addition to the size of the fowl, observe that the heat of the fire is constantly to that part, for the breast is often not done enough. A little strip of paper should be put on the bone, to prevent its being scorched while the other parts are roasting. Baste it well, and froth it up. Serve with gravy in the dish, and plenty of bread sauce in a sauce tureen. Add a few crumbs and a beaten egg to the stuffing of sausage meat. Another way. Bone your turkey very nicely, leaving on the pinions, rump, and legs; then take the flesh of a nice fowl, the same weight of bread grated, and half a pound of beef suet, nicely picked; beat these in a marble mortar, season with mace, one clove, pepper, nutmeg, salt beat fine, a little lemon peel shred very small, and the yolks of two eggs; mix all up together very well; then fill all the parts that the bones came out of, and raise the breast to the form it was before the bone was taken out; sew up the skin of the back, and skewer down the legs close as you do a chicken for roasting; spit it and let it be nicely roasted: send good gravy in the dish. ROAST VEAL. Veal must be well done before a good fire. Cover the fat of the loin and fillet with paper. Stuff the fillet and shoulder in the following manner. Take a quarter of a pound of suet, parsley, and sweet herbs, and chop them fine. Add grated bread, lemon peel, pepper, salt, nutmeg, and an egg. Mix all well together, and put the stuffing safely into the veal. Roast the breast with the caul on: when nearly done, take it off, and baste and dredge the meat. Lay it in the dish, pour a little melted butter over it, and serve it up with salad, boiled vegetables, or stewed celery. ROAST VENISON. After a haunch of venison is spitted, take a piece of butter and rub all over the fat, dust on a little flour, and sprinkle a little salt: then take a sheet of writing paper, butter it well, and lay over the fat part; put two sheets over that, and tie the paper on with small twine: keep it well basting, and let there be a good soaking fire. If a large haunch, it will take full three hours to do it. Five minutes before you send it to table take off the paper, dust it over with a little flour, and baste it with butter; let it go up with a good froth; put no gravy in the dish, but send it in one boat; and currant jelly melted, in another; or if you have no currant jelly, boil half a pint of red wine with a quarter of a pound of lump sugar, a stick of cinnamon, and a piece of lemon peel in it, to a syrup. The neck and shoulder are dressed the same way; and as to the time, it depends entirely on the weight, and the goodness of your fire: if you allow a quarter of an hour to each pound, and the fire be tolerably kept up, you cannot well err. A breast of venison is excellent dressed in the following way: flour it, and fry it brown on both sides in fresh butter: keep it hot in a dish, dust flour into the butter it was fried in, till it is thick and brown. Keep it stirring that it may not burn; pour in half a pint of red wine, and a quarter of a pound of powdered sugar: stir it and let it boil to a proper thickness. Squeeze in the juice of a lemon, take off the scum very clean, and pour it over your venison, then send it to table. ROAST WHEAT-EARS. These birds should be spitted sideways, with a vine leaf between each. Baste them with butter, and cover them with bread crumbs while roasting. Ten or twelve minutes will do them. Serve them up with fried bread crumbs in the dish, and gravy in a tureen. ROAST WILD DUCK. A wild duck or a widgeon will require twenty or twenty-five minutes roasting, according to the size. A teal, from fifteen to twenty minutes; and other birds of this kind, in proportion to their size, a longer or a shorter time. Serve them up with gravy, and lemons cut in quarters, to be used at pleasure. ROAST WOODCOCKS. Whether for woodcocks or snipes, put a toast of fine bread under the birds while at the fire; and as they are not to be drawn before they are spitted, let the tail drop on the toast while roasting, and baste them with butter. When done, lay the birds on the toast in a dish, and send it warm to the table. A woodcock takes twenty minutes roasting, and a snipe fifteen. ROBERT SAUCE. Put an ounce of butter into a pint stewpan, and when melted, add to it half an ounce of onion minced very fine. Turn it with a wooden spoon till it takes a light brown colour, and then stir into it a table-spoonful of flour, a table-spoonful of mushroom ketchup, the like quantity of port wine, half a pint of weak broth, and half a tea-spoonful of pepper and salt mixed together. Give them a boil, then add a tea-spoonful of mustard, the juice of half a lemon, and one or two tea-spoonfuls of vinegar, basil, taragon, or burnet vinegar. This sauce is in high repute, and is adapted for roast pork or roast goose. ROLLS. Warm an ounce of butter in half a pint of milk, put to it a spoonful or more of small beer yeast, and a little salt. Mix in two pounds of flour, let it rise an hour, and knead it well. Make the paste into seven rolls, and bake them in a quick oven. If a little saffron, boiled in half a tea-cupful of milk, be added, it will be a great improvement. ROLLED BEEF. Soak the inside of a large sirloin in a glass of port wine and a glass of vinegar mixed, for eight and forty hours: have ready a very fine stuffing, and bind it up tight. Roast it on a hanging spit, baste it with a glass of port wine, the same quantity of vinegar, and a tea-spoonful of pounded allspice. Larding it improves the flavour and appearance: serve it with a rich gravy in the dish, with currant jelly and melted butter in tureens. This article will be found very much to resemble a hare. ROLLED BREAST OF VEAL. Bone it, take off the thick skin and gristle, and beat the meat with a rolling-pin. Season it with herbs chopped very fine, mixed with salt, pepper, and mace. Roll the meat in some thick slices of fine ham, or in two or three calves' tongues of a fine red, first boiled an hour or two and peeled. Bind the meat up tight in a cloth, and tie it round with tape. Simmer it over the fire for some hours, in a small quantity of water, till it is quite tender. Lay it on the dresser with a board and weight upon it till quite cold. Then take off the tape, and pour over it the liquor, which must be boiled up twice a week, or it will not keep. Pigs' or calves' feet boiled and taken from the bones, may be put in or round the veal. The different colours placed in layers look well when cut. Boiled yolks of eggs, beet root, grated ham, and chopped parsley, may be laid in different parts to encrease the variety, and improve the general appearance. ROLLED LOIN OF MUTTON. Hang the joint up till tender, and then bone it. Lay on a seasoning of pepper, allspice, mace, nutmeg, and a few cloves, all in fine powder. Next day prepare a stuffing as for hare, beat the meat with a rolling-pin, cover it with the stuffing, roll it up tight and tie it. Half bake it in a slow oven, let it grow cold, take off the fat, and put the gravy into a stewpan. Flour the meat, and put it in likewise. Stew it till almost ready, and add a glass of port, an anchovy, some ketchup, and a little lemon pickle. Serve it in the gravy, and with jelly sauce. A few mushrooms are a great improvement; but if to eat like hare, these must not be added, nor the lemon pickle. ROLLED NECK OF PORK. Bone it first, then put over the inside a forcemeat of chopped sage, a very few crumbs of bread, salt, pepper, and two or three berries of allspice. Then roll the meat up very tight, place it at a good distance from the fire, and roast it slowly. ROLLED STEAKS. Cut a large steak from a round of beef, spread over it a forcemeat, such as is made for veal, roll it up like collared eel, and tie it up in a cloth. Boil it an hour and a half, and when done enough, cut it into slices. Prepare a rich gravy, a little thickened, and pour over the steaks. ROMAN CEMENT. To make a mortar for outside plastering, or brick-work, or to line reservoirs, so as no water can penetrate it, mix together eighty-four pounds of drifted sand, twelve pounds of unslaked lime, and four pounds of the poorest cheese grated through an iron grater. When well mixed, add enough hot water, not boiling, to make it into a proper consistence for plastering, such a quantity of the above as is wanted. It requires very good and quick working. One hod of this mortar will go a great way, as it is to be laid on in a thin smooth coat, without the least space being left uncovered. The wall or lath work should be first covered with common hair mortar well dried. Suffolk cheese will be found to make the best cement. ROOK PIE. Skin and draw some young rooks, cut out the backbones, and season with pepper and salt. Lay them in a dish with a little water, strew some bits of butter over them, cover the dish with a thick crust, and bake it well. ROSE WATER. When the roses are full blown, pick off the leaves carefully, and allow a peck of them to a quart of water. Put them in a cold still over a slow fire, and distil it very gradually. Bottle the water, and cork it up in two or three days. ROT IN SHEEP. When sheep are newly brought in, it will preserve their health to give them a table-spoonful of the juice of rue leaves, mixed with a little salt. If they are in danger of the rot, this mixture may be repeated every week or oftener, as the case requires. ROUND OF BEEF. Cut out the bone first, then skewer and tie up the beef to make it quite round. Salt it carefully, and moisten it with the pickle for eight or ten days. It may be stuffed with parsley, if approved; in which case the holes to admit the parsley must be made with a sharp-pointed knife, and the parsley coarsely cut and stuffed in tight. When dressed it should be carefully skimmed as soon as it boils, and afterwards kept boiling very gently. ROUT CAKES. To make rout drop-cakes, mix two pounds of flour with one pound of butter, one pound of sugar, and one pound of currants, cleaned and dried. Moisten it into a stiff paste with two eggs, a large spoonful of orange-flower water, as much rose water, sweet wine, and brandy. Drop the paste on a tin plate floured, and a short time will bake them. ROYAL CAKES. Put into a saucepan a quarter of a pint of water, a piece of butter half the size of an egg, two ounces of fine sugar, a little grated lemon peel, and a little salt. When it has boiled about half a minute, stir in by degrees four spoonfuls of flour, keeping it constantly stirring all the time, till it becomes a smooth paste, pretty stiff, and begins to adhere to the saucepan. Then take it off the fire, and add three eggs well beaten, putting them in by degrees, and stirring the paste all the time to prevent its being lumpy. Add a little orange-flower water, and a few almonds pounded fine. Make it into little cakes, and bake them upon a sheet of tin well buttered. Half an hour will bake them in a moderate oven. ROYAL PUNCH. Take thirty Seville oranges and thirty lemons, quite sound, and pare them very thin. Put the parings into an earthen pan, with as much rum or brandy as will cover them. Cover up the pan, and let them stand four days. Take ten gallons of water, and twelve pounds of lump sugar, and boil them. When nearly cold, put in the whites of thirty eggs well beaten, and stir it and boil it a quarter of an hour. Strain it through a hair sieve into an earthen pan, and let it stand till next day. Then put it into a cask, strain the spirit from the parings of the oranges and lemons, and add as much more to it as will make it up five gallons. Put it into the cask with five quarts of Seville orange juice and three quarts of lemon juice. Stir it all together with a cleft stick, and repeat the same once a day for three successive days: then stop it down close, and in six weeks it will be fit to drink. RUFFS AND REEVES. These are to be trussed and skewered the same as snipes and quails. Place bars of bacon over them, roast them in about ten minutes, and serve with a good gravy in the dish. RUMP OF BEEF. Take a rump of beef, or about eight pounds of the brisket, and stew it till it is quite tender, in as much water as will cover it. When sufficiently done, take out the bones, and skim off the fat very clean. To a pint of the liquor, add the third part of a pint of port wine, a little walnut or mushroom ketchup, and some salt. Tie up some whole white pepper and mace in a piece of muslin, and stew all together for a short time. Have ready some carrots and turnips boiled tender and cut into squares, strew them upon the beef, putting a few into the dish. Truffles and morels may be added, or artichoke bottoms. RUMP SOUP. Two or three rumps of beef will make a stronger soup, and of a far more nourishing quality, than a larger quantity of meat without them. It may be made like gravy soup, and thickened and flavoured in any way that is most approved. RUMP STEAKS. The best steaks are those cut from the middle of a rump of beef, that has been killed at least four days in moderate weather, and much longer in cold weather, when they can be cut about six inches long, four inches wide, and half an inch thick. Do not beat them, unless you suspect they will not be tender. Take care to have a very clear brisk fire, throw on it a little salt, make the gridiron hot, and set it slanting, to prevent the fat from dropping into the fire, and making a smoke. It requires more practice and care than is generally supposed to do steaks to a nicety; and for want of these little attentions, this very common dish, which every body is supposed capable of dressing, seldom comes to table in perfection. It may be underdone or thoroughly done, as happens to be preferred. It is usual to put a table-spoonful of ketchup into a dish before the fire, with a little minced shalot. In broiling, turn the steak with a pair of meat tongs, and it will be done in about ten or fifteen minutes. Rub a bit of butter over it, and send it up quite hot, garnished with pickles, and scraped horseradish.--If onion gravy is to be added, prepare it in the following manner. Peel and slice two large onions, put them into a stewpan with two table-spoonfuls of water, cover the stewpan close, and set it on a slow fire till the water has boiled away, and the onions have got a little browned. Then add half a pint of good broth, or water with a large spoonful of ketchup, and boil the onions till they are quite tender. Strain off the liquor, and chop them very fine. Thicken the broth with butter rolled in flour, and season it with mushroom ketchup, pepper and salt. Put the onion into it, let it boil gently for five minutes, and pour it over the broiled steak. Good beef gravy, instead of broth, will make the sauce superlative.--If a cold rump steak is to be warmed up, lay it in a stewpan, with a large onion cut in quarters, six berries of allspice, and six of black pepper. Cover the steak with boiling water, let it stew gently for an hour, thicken the liquor with butter rolled in flour, shake it well over the fire for five minutes, and it is ready. Lay the steaks and onion on a dish, and pour the gravy over them through a sieve. RUSKS. Beat seven eggs well, and mix them with half a pint of new milk, in which four ounces of butter have been previously melted. Add a quarter of a pint of yeast, and three ounces of sugar, and put them by degrees into as much flour as will make a very light paste, rather like a batter, and let it rise before the fire half an hour. Then add some more flour, to make it a little stiffer, but not much. Work it well, and divide it into small loaves, or cakes, about five or six inches wide, and flatten them. When baked and cold, slice them the thickness of rusks, and put them into the oven to brown a little. The cakes when first baked, eat deliciously buttered for tea; or made with carraways, they eat well cold. RUSSIAN SAUCE. To four spoonfuls of grated horseradish, put two tea-spoonfuls of patent mustard, a little salt, one tea-spoonful of sugar, and a sufficient quantity of vinegar to cover the ingredients. This sauce is used for cold meat, but makes a good fish sauce, with the addition of melted butter. RUST. To prevent iron and steel from rusting, mix with fat oil varnish, at least half, or at most four fifths of its quantity of highly rectified spirits of turpentine. This varnish must be lightly and evenly applied with a sponge; after which the article is left to dry in some situation not exposed to dust. Articles thus varnished retain their metallic lustre, and do not contract any spots of rust. This varnish may also be applied to copper, of which it preserves the polish and heightens the colour. S. SACK CREAM. Boil a pint of raw cream, the yolk of an egg well beaten, two or three spoonfuls of white wine, sugar, and lemon peel. Stir it over a gentle fire till it be as thick as rich cream, and afterwards till it becomes cold. Then serve it in glasses, with long pieces of dry toast. SACK DUMPLINS. Grate the crumb of two penny rolls, add three quarters of a pound of suet cut small, three quarters of a pound of currants washed clean, a grated nutmeg, a little sugar, the yolks of eight eggs, and two wine glasses of sack. Make the paste into dumplins of a moderate size, tie them in cloths, and boil them two hours. Melted butter for sauce, with white wine and sugar. SACK MEAD. To every gallon of water put four pounds of honey, and boil it three quarters of an hour, taking care to skim it. To every gallon add an ounce of hops; then boil it half an hour, and let it stand till the next day. Put it into a cask, and to thirteen gallons of the liquor add a quart of brandy. Stop it lightly till the fermentation is over, and then bung it up close. A large cask should be suffered to stand a year. SACKS OF CORN. Seeds, and various kinds of grain, are liable to damage when kept in sacks or bins, from the want of being sufficiently aired. Make a small wooden tube nearly the length of the sack, closed and pointed at one end, and perforated with holes about an inch asunder, nearly two thirds of its length from the point end. Then at the other end fasten a leather tube, and thrust it into the corn to the bottom of the sack. Put the pipe of a pair of bellows into the leather tube, and blow into it, so that the air may be diffused among the corn throughout the holes of the wooden tube. If corn be thus treated every other day after it is first put into sacks, it will prevent the damp sweats which would otherwise injure it, and it will afterwards keep sweet with very little airing. SADDLE OF MUTTON. When it has been well kept, raise the skin, and then skewer it on again. Take it off a quarter of an hour before serving, sprinkle on some salt, baste and dredge it well with flour. The rump should be split, and skewered back on each side. The joint may be cut large or small, according to the company: the latter is the most elegant. Being broad, it requires a high and strong fire. SAFFRON CAKE. Take a quarter of a peck of fine flour, a pound and a half of fresh butter, a quarter of an ounce of mace and cinnamon together, beat fine, and mix the spice in the flour. Set on a quart of milk to boil, break the butter in, and stir it till the milk boils; take off all the butter, and a little of the milk; mix with the flour a pound of sugar beat fine, a penny-worth of saffron made into a tincture; take a pint of yeast that is not bitter, and stir it well into the remainder of the milk; beat up six eggs very well, and put to the yeast and milk, strain it to the flour, with some rose-water, and the tincture of saffron; beat up all together with your hands lightly, and put it into a hoop or pan well buttered. It will take an hour and a half in a quick oven. You may make the tincture of saffron with the rose-water. SAGE is raised from seed, or from slips. To have it at hand for winter it is necessary to dry it; and it ought to be cut for this purpose before it comes out into bloom, as indeed is the case with all other herbs. SAGE CHEESE. To make this kind of cheese, bruise the tops of young red sage in a mortar, with some leaves of spinach, and squeeze out the juice. Mix it with the rennet in the milk, more or less, according as the taste and colour may be preferred. When the curd is come, break it gently, and put it in with the skimmer, till it is pressed two inches above one vat. Press it eight or ten hours, salt and turn it every day. SAGO. To prevent the earthy taste, soak it an hour in cold water; pour off the water, and wash it well. Then add more, and simmer it gently till the berries are clear, with lemon peel and spice, if approved. Add wine and sugar, and boil all up together.--If intended for the sick, or those whom disease has left very feeble, boil a teacupful of washed, sago in a quart of water, and a taste of lemon peel. When thickened, grate in some ginger, and add half a pint of raisin wine, some brown sugar, and two spoonfuls of Geneva: boil all up together. SAGO MILK. Cleanse the sago as in the former article, and boil it slowly in new milk. It swells so much, that a small quantity will be sufficient for a quart; and when done, it will be diminished to about a pint. It requires no sugar or flavouring. SAGO PUDDING. Boil a pint and a half of new milk, with four spoonfuls of sago nicely washed and picked; then add lemon peel, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Sweeten the pudding, mix in four eggs, put a paste round the dish, and bake it slowly. SAIL CLOTH. The old mode of painting canvas was to wet it, and prime it with Spanish brown. Then to give it a second coat of a chocolate colour, made by mixing Spanish brown and black paint; and lastly, to finish it with black. This was found to harden to such a degree as to crack, and eventually to break, the canvas, and so to render it unserviceable in a short time. The new method, which is greatly superior, is to grind ninety-six pounds of English ochre with boiled oil, and to add sixteen pounds of black paint, which mixture forms an indifferent black. A pound of yellow soap, dissolved in six pints of water over the fire, is mixed while hot, with the paint. This composition is then laid upon the canvas, without being wetted as formerly, and as stiff as can conveniently be done with a brush, so as to form a smooth surface. Two days afterwards, a second coat of ochre and black is laid on, with a very small portion of soap; and allowing this coat an intermediate day for drying, the canvas is then finished with black paint as usual. Three days being then allowed for it to dry and harden, it does not stick together when taken down, and folded in cloths of sixty or seventy yards each. SALAD MIXTURE. Salad herbs should be gathered in the morning, as fresh as possible, or they must be put into cold spring water for an hour. Carefully wash and pick them, trim off all the dry or cankered leaves, put them into a cullender to drain, and swing them dry in a coarse clean napkin. Then pound together the yolks of two hard eggs, an ounce of scraped horseradish, half an ounce of salt, a table-spoonful of made mustard, four drams of minced shalots, one dram of celery seed, one dram of cress seed, and half a dram of cayenne. Add by degrees a wine glass of salad oil, three glasses of burnet, and three of tarragon vinegar. When thoroughly incorporated, set it over a very gentle fire, and stir it with a wooden spoon till it has simmered to the consistence of cream. Then pass it through a tammis or fine sieve, and add it to the salad. SALAD SAUCE. Mix two yolks of eggs boiled hard, as much grated Parmesan cheese as will fill a dessert-spoon, a little patent mustard, a small spoonful of tarragon vinegar, and a large one of ketchup. Stir them well together, then put in four spoonfuls of salad oil, and one spoonful of elder vinegar, and beat them up very smooth. SALADS. Cold salads are proper to be eaten at all seasons of the year, but are particularly to be recommended from the beginning of February to the end of June. They are in greater perfection, and consequently more powerful, during this period, than at any other, in opening obstructions, sweetening and purifying the blood. The habit of eating salad herbs tends considerably to prevent that pernicious and almost general disease the scurvy, and all windy humours which offend the stomach. Also from the middle of September till December, and during the winter, if the weather be mild and open, all green herbs are wholesome, and highly beneficial. It is true that they have not so much vigour in the winter season, nor are they so medicinal as in the spring of the year; yet those which continue fresh and green, will retain a considerable portion of their natural qualities; and being eaten as salads, with proper seasoning, they will operate much in the same way as at other periods of the year. It is a necessary consequence of cold weather, that the heat of the body is driven more inward than in warm weather, as the cold of the atmosphere repels it from the surface. Hence arises an appetite for strong and solid food, and strong drinks, which for want of temperance and care, lays the foundation for diseases that commonly make their appearance in the summer following. Eating freely of salads and other vegetables in the winter, will prevent in a great treasure these ill effects; and if properly seasoned and prepared, they will warm the stomach, and be found exhilarating. The effect produced is in unison with all the operations of the human constitution, while the use of strong stimulants excites to unnatural action, which is soon succeeded by a cold and chilling languor. Green herbs in winter are much more beneficial than is generally imagined; they are particularly salutary to aged persons, and such as are subject to stoppages, or shortness of breath. In this case, instead of an onion, a clove of garlic may be put into the salad, which is a preferable way of eating it. This will open and warm the stomach, and give a general glow to the whole system.--The following are the principal herbs used as salads. Basil, balm, borage, burnet, celery, chervil, colewort, coriander, corn-salad, cresses, endive, French fennel, lettuce, mint, mustard, nasturtiums, nettle-tops, parsley, pennyroyal, radishes, rape, sage, sorrel, spinage, tarragon, and water-cresses. Onions, both young and full grown, shalots, garlic, and chives, are all used as seasoning to salads. Red beet-root, boiled and cold, is often sliced into them. Several of these herbs are very little in use as salads, but there are none of them that may not be recommended as good for the purpose. The usual salads are too much limited to what is specifically called small salading, lettuce, celery, and endive. These are all excellent in their kind, but to prefer them to the exclusion of every thing else, is a mere prejudice. With a wish therefore to counteract it, and to provide a larger assortment of wholesome salads, the following particulars are given, with directions for preparing several different dishes of this description. In general it may be proper to observe, that salads of all kinds should be very fresh; or if not immediately procured in this state, they may be refreshed by being put into cold spring water. They should be very carefully washed and picked, and drained quite dry in a clean cloth. In dressing lettuce, or small herbs, it is best to arrange them, properly picked and cut, in the salad dish; then to mix the sauce in something else, and pour it to the salad down the side of the dish, so as to let it run to the bottom, and not to stir it up till used at table. This preserves the crispness of the salad, which is one of its principal delicacies. With celery and endive the sauce should be poured upon them, and the whole well stirred together to mix it equally. Lettuce, endive, and celery, may be eaten with salt only; and if well chewed, as all salads ought to be, they often agree better than when mixed with seasonings. If mustard in salad sauces occasion sickness, or otherwise disagrees, cayenne pepper will often prove an excellent substitute.--The following salads are remarkably wholesome, and have a cooling and salutary effect upon the bowels. 1. Take spinage, parsley, sorrel, lettuce, and a few onions. Then add oil, vinegar, and salt, to give it a high taste and relish, but let the salt rather predominate above the other ingredients. The wholesomest way of eating salads is with bread only, in preference to bread and butter, bread and cheese, or meat and bread; though any of these may be eaten with it, when the salad is seasoned only with salt and vinegar. It is not advisable to eat butter, cheese, or meat with salads, or any thing in which there is a mixture of oil. All fat substances are heavy of digestion, and to mix such as disagree in their nature, is to encrease this evil to a degree that the stomach can hardly overcome. 2. Prepare some lettuce, spinage tops, pennyroyal, sorrel, a few onions, and some parsley. Then season them with oil, vinegar, and salt. 3. Another salad may be made of lettuce, sorrel, spinage, tops of mint, and onions, seasoned as before. 4. Take spinage, lettuce, tarragon, and parsley, with some leaves of balm. Or sorrel, tarragon, spinage, lettuce, onions, and parsley. Or tops of pennyroyal, mint, lettuce, spinage, sorrel, and parsley. Or lettuce, spinage, onions, pennyroyal, balm, and sorrel. Or sage, lettuce, spinage, sorrel, onions, and parsley; seasoned with salt, oil, and vinegar. 5. Make a salad of pennyroyal, sage, mint, balm, a little lettuce, and sorrel; seasoned with oil, vinegar, and salt. This is an excellent warming salad, though the above are all of an exhilarating tendency. 6. Mix some lettuce, sorrel, endive, celery, spinage, and onions, seasoned as above. 7. Take the fresh tender leaves of cole wort, or cabbage plants, with lettuce, sorrel, parsley, tarragon, nettle tops, mint, and pennyroyal; and season them with salt, oil, and vinegar. If highly seasoned, this is a very warm and relishing salad. 8. For winter salad, take some tender plants of colewort, sorrel, lettuce, endive, celery, parsley, and sliced onions; and season them as before. 9. Another winter salad may be made of lettuce, spinage, endive, celery, and half a clove of garlic. Season it well with oil, vinegar, and salt. This salad is very warming and wholesome. All these aromatic herbs are particularly proper for phlegmatic and weakly persons, as they have the property of warming the stomach, and improving the blood. To supply the want of oil in salads, make some thick melted butter, and use it in the same proportion as oil. Some sweet thick cream is a still better substitute, and will do as well as oil, especially as some persons have an aversion to oil. Cream also looks well in salads. A good salad sauce may be made of two yolks of eggs boiled hard, mixed with a spoonful of Parmesan cheese grated, a little patent mustard, a spoonful of tarragon vinegar, and a larger one of ketchup. When stirred well together, add four spoonfuls of salad oil, and one of elder vinegar, and beat them up very smooth. It is very common in France, amongst all classes of people, to dress cauliflowers and French beans to eat cold, as salads, with a sauce of oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper. In some parts of France, raw salads, composed entirely of herbs growing wild in the fields, are in frequent use; and for distinction sake, are called rural salads. The English, who are not so fond of pungent flavours, are in the habit of substituting sugar instead of pepper and salt, where oil is not used, in order to soften the asperity of the vinegar. SALMAGUNDY. This is a beautiful small dish, if in a nice shape, and the colours of the ingredients be properly varied. For this purpose chop separately the white part of cold chicken or veal, yolks of eggs boiled hard, the whites of eggs, beet root, parsley, half a dozen anchovies, red pickled cabbage, ham and grated tongue, or any thing well flavoured and of a good colour. Some people like a small proportion of onion, but it may be better omitted. A saucer, large teacup, or any other base, must be put into a small dish; then make rows round it wide at the bottom, and growing smaller towards the top, choosing such ingredients for each row as will most vary the colours. At the top, a little sprig of curled parsley may be stuck in; or without any thing on the dish, the salmagundy may be laid in rows, or put into the half-whites of eggs, which may be made to stand upright by cutting off a little bit at the round end. In the latter case, each half egg receives but one ingredient. Curled butter and parsley may be put as garnish between. SALMON. If fresh and good, the flesh will be of a fine red, the gills particularly; the scales very bright, and the whole fish stiff. When just killed there is a whiteness between the flakes, which gives great firmness; by keeping, this melts down, and the fish is more rich. The Thames salmon bears the highest price; that caught in the Severn is next in goodness, and by some it is preferred. Those with small heads, and thick in the neck, are best. SALMON AU COURT-BOUILLON. Scale and clean a fresh salmon very well, score the sides deep, to take the seasoning; take of mace and cloves, and white pepper, a quarter of an ounce each, a small nutmeg, and an ounce of salt; beat these very fine in a mortar; cut a little lemon peel fine, and shred some parsley, mix all together, and season the fish inside and out; then work up near a pound of butter in flour, and fill up the notches; the rest put into the belly of the fish; lay it in a clean cloth or napkin, roll it up, and bind it round with packthread, lay it into a fish-kettle, and put to it as much white wine vinegar, and water in an equal quantity, as will be sufficient to boil it in. Set it over a good charcoal fire, and when you think it is enough, draw it off your stove, so that it may but just simmer. Fold a clean napkin the length of your dish the fish is to go up in; take up the fish, unbind it, and lay it on the napkin. Garnish your dish with picked raw parsley, and horseradish. Send plain butter in a bason, and shalots chopped fine, and simmered in vinegar in a boat. SALMON A LA BRAISE. Clean a middling salmon, take the flesh of a tench, or a large eel, and chop it very fine, with two anchovies, a little lemon peel shred, pepper, salt, nutmeg, and a little thyme and parsley; mix all together with a good piece of butter, put into the belly of the fish, and sew it up; put it into an oval stew-pan that will just hold it; brown about half a pound of fresh butter, and put to it a pint of fish broth, and a pint and a half of white wine; pour this over your fish; if it does not cover it, add some more wine and broth; put in a bundle of sweet herbs, and an onion, a little mace, two or three cloves, and some whole pepper tied up in a piece of muslin: cover it close, and let it stew gently over a slow fire. Before it is quite done, take out your onion, herbs, and spice; then put in some mushrooms, truffles, and morels, cut in pieces; let them stew all together, till the salmon is enough; take it up carefully, take off all the scum, and pour your sauce over. Garnish with horseradish, barberries, and lemon. Either of these is a fine dish for a first course. SALMON PIE. Make puff paste, and lay over your dish; clean and scale a middling piece of salmon; cut it into three or four pieces, according to the size of your dish, and season it pretty high with mace, cloves, pepper, and salt; put some butter at the bottom, and lay in the salmon; take the meat of a lobster cut small, and bruise the body with an anchovy; melt as much butter as you think proper, stir the lobster into it, with a glass of white wine, and a little nutmeg; pour this over the salmon, lay on the top crust, and let it be well baked. SALOOP. Boil together a little water, wine, lemon peel, and sugar. Mix in a small quantity of saloop powder, previously rubbed smooth with a little cold water. Stir it all together, and boil it a few minutes. SALT. The properties of common salt are such as to render it an article of the greatest importance in the preparation of food, and in the preservation of health. If salt be withheld for any length of time, diseases of the stomach become general, and worms are gendered in the bowels, which are removed with great difficulty. In Ireland, salt is a well-known common remedy for bots in the horse; and among the poor people, a dose of common salt is esteemed a sufficient cure for the worms. It is supposed by some medical men, that salt furnishes soda to be mixed with the bile: without this necessary addition, the bile would be deprived of the qualities necessary to assist in the operation of digestion. One of the greatest grievances of which the poor man can complain is the want of salt. Many of the insurrections and commotions among the Hindoos, have been occasioned by the cruel and unjust monopolies of certain unworthy servants of the East India Company, who to aggrandize their own fortunes have oftentimes bought up, on speculation, all the salt in the different ports and markets, and thus have deprived the ingenious but wretched natives of their only remaining comfort, salt being the only addition they are usually enabled to make to their poor pittance of rice. Many of the poor in England, previously to the late reduction especially, have loudly lamented the high price of salt, which thousands are in the habit of using as the only seasoning to their meal of potatoes. Salt is also of the greatest use in agriculture. From one to two bushels makes fine manure for an acre of land, varied according to the quality of the soil. This answers better than almost any other compost. The Chinese have for ages been accustomed to manure their fields by sprinkling them with sea water. The Persians sprinkle the timber of their buildings with salt, to prevent them from rotting. It is used in Abyssinia instead of money, where it passes from hand to hand, under the shape of a brick, worth about eighteen pence. In feeding of cattle, it is also found to be highly beneficial. A nobleman who purchased two hundred Merino sheep in Spain, attributes the health of his flock principally to the constant use of salt. These sheep having been accustomed to that article in their native land, it was thought necessary to supply them with it, especially in this damp climate, and in the rich pastures of some parts of this country. A ton of salt is used annually for every thousand sheep: a handful is put in the morning on a flat stone or slate, ten of which, set a few yards apart, are sufficient for a hundred sheep. This quantity is given twice a week. Out of a flock of nearly a thousand, there were not ten old sheep that did not readily take it, and not a single lamb which did not consume it greedily. Salt is likewise a preventive of disorders in stock fed with rank green food, as clover or turnips, and it is deemed a specific for the rot. Horses and horned cattle are also very fond of salt: the cow gives more milk, and richer in quality, when salt is mixed with her food. The wild beasts of the American forests leave their haunts at certain seasons, and travel in company to various places where salt is to be found. There they lick the ground on which the salt lies, or which is strongly impregnated by it. Cattle fed on grass which grows on the sea shore, are always fatter and in better condition, than those which graze on in land-pastures. Considering its various uses in agriculture, as an article of food, and as a preservative from putrefaction, salt may be pronounced one of the most generally useful and necessary of all the minerals; and it is truly lamentable, that in almost all ages and countries, particularly in those where despotism prevails, this should be one of those necessaries of life, on which the most heavy taxes are imposed. Bay salt is a kind of brownish impure salt, obtained in France, Italy, and other countries, by evaporating sea water in pits. The principal part of bay salt sold in this country is however of home manufacture, being a coarse grained chrystalized salt, made dirty by powdered Turkey umber, or some such colouring material, to give it the appearance of a foreign article. The only utility which this salt appears to possess, beyond that of the common fine-grained salt usually found in the shops, is that it dissolves more slowly by moisture, and therefore is better calculated for salting of fish, and other animal substances, which cannot be wholly covered with brine. Basket salt is made from the water of the salt springs in Cheshire and other places. It differs from the common brine salt in the fineness of the grain, as well as on account of its whiteness and purity. It is principally used at table. SALT BEEF. Great attention is requisite in salting meat; and in the country, where large quantities are often cured, this is of particular importance. Beef and pork should be well sprinkled, and a few hours afterwards hung to drain, before it is rubbed with the salt. This method, by cleansing the meat from the blood, serves to keep it from tasting strong. It should be turned every day; and if wanted soon, it should be rubbed daily. A salting tub or lead may be used, and a cover to fit close. Those who use a good deal of salt meat will find it answer well to boil up the pickle, and skim it clean; and when cold, pour it over meat that has been sprinkled and drained.--To salt beef red, which is extremely good to eat fresh from the pickle, or to hang to dry, choose a piece of the flank, or any part that has but little bone. Sprinkle it, and let it drain a day. Then rub it with common salt, bay salt, and a small proportion of saltpetre, all in fine powder. A few grains of cochineal may be added. Rub the pickle into the meat every day for a week, and afterwards turning it only will be sufficient. It will be excellent in about eight days; and in sixteen days it may be drained from the pickle. Smoke it at the mouth of the oven, when heated with wood, or send it to the baker's; a few days will be sufficient to smoke it. A little of the coarsest sugar added to the salt, will be an improvement. Red beef boiled tender, eats well with greens or carrots. If it is to be grated as Dutch beef, then cut a lean bit, boil it extremely tender, and put it hot under a press. When cold fold it in a sheet of paper, and it will keep in a dry place two or three months, ready for serving on bread and butter.--If a piece of beef is to be prepared for eating immediately, it should not weigh more than five or six pounds. Salt it thoroughly before it is to be put into the pot, take a coarse cloth, flour it well, put the meat into it, and fold it up close. Put it into a pot of boiling water, and boil it as another piece of salt meat of the same size, and it will be as salt as if it had been in pickle four or five days. SALT COD. Soak and clean the piece intended to be dressed, and lay it all night in water, with a glass of vinegar. Boil it enough, then break it into flakes on the dish; pour over it parsnips boiled, beaten in a mortar, and boiled up with cream. Add to it a large piece of butter, rubbed in a little flour. Egg sauce may be sent up instead, or the parsnip root whole. The fish may also be boiled without flaking, and served with either of the sauces as above. SALT FISH. Backlio, old ling, and tusk, are reckoned the best salt fish. Old ling and backlio, must be laid in water for ten or twelve hours, then taken out, and scaled very clean; wash the fish, and let it lay out of water till you want to use it; if it is the next day, it will be the better. When you dress it, put it into cold water, and let it do as gently as possible; let it be boiled so tender, that you may put a fork into any part of it without sticking, then it is enough. Lay a clean napkin over your dish, take up the fish, lay it upon the napkin, and throw the corners over each other. Send it to table with egg sauce in a basin, parsnips sliced, and butter and mustard in a boat. SALT FISH WITH CREAM. Soak and boil some good barrel cod, till about three parts done. Divide it into flakes, put them into a saucepan with some cream, a little pepper, and a handful of parsley scalded and chopped. Stew it gently till tender, thicken the sauce with two or three yolks of eggs, and serve it up. SALT FISH PIE. Boil a side of salt fish as you would for eating; cut a square bit out of the middle, about the bigness of your hand; take the skin off the other, and take out all the bones; mince this very small with six eggs boiled hard; season it with pepper, nutmeg, and beaten mace, then slice the crumb of French rolls thin into a pan, pour over it a quart of boiling milk, and let it stand to soak; in the mean time, make a good puff paste, and sheet the dish all over; have in readiness the quantity of two spoonfuls of parsley shred very fine, beat the bread well together, then put in the fish and eggs, and chopped parsley; stir all well together; melt about three quarters of a pound of butter, and stir it into the ingredients, with a gill of Mountain; pour this into the dish, lay the square piece of fish in the middle; lay on the lid, and bake it an hour, or a little more.--You may make ling, or stock-fish pie in this manner; but you are to observe, that all the skin is to be taken off, and not to put a piece whole into the pie, according to this receipt; but mince all the fish with the yolks of hard eggs, leaving out the whites, and adding a large spoonful of made mustard when you stir the ingredients together, before you put them into the pie. SALT PORK. To a hundred weight of pork or beef, take ten pounds of common salt, and half a pound of saltpetre. Let the meat be well cleaned from those particles of blood which hang about it when cut into four pound pieces: this is best done by washing it in salt and water, or brine that has been used, provided it be sweet. Lay the meat in rows, and rub the upper side moderately with salt; then place another layer of meat, and repeat the operation as on the first layer. In this manner continue the same proportion of salt and saltpetre, till the whole quantity is heaped up in a tub, or some other vessel, not of lead, in order to preserve the pickle from issuing from it. In this state it must remain for three days, then turn it into another tub, sprinkling it with salt in the act of turning the meat. When all is turned and salted, let the pickle procured by the first salting, be slowly poured about the meat. In this state let it remain for a week, and it will be excellent for home use. If wanted for exportation, pack it in this state into casks. But as the greatest care is required for its preservation, when sent abroad, a layer of salt must first be put into the barrel, and then a layer of meat, till the cask is full, taking care to use the hand only in packing in the pieces. When the barrel is headed, the pickle must be filtered through a coarse cloth; and when perfectly fine, fill up the cask with the pickle to the bung hole. Let it remain in this state till the next day, in order to ascertain whether the cask be quite tight, and then bung it up. Beef or pork cured in this manner will not fail to keep any reasonable length of time. The too great rubbing of meat will not keep it the better, it frequently retards the operation of the salt by filling the outward pores of the meat only to the destruction of the middle of the piece, which frequently perishes. SALTING OF BUTTER. After the butter is well worked up and cleared from the milk, it is ready for salting. The tub in which it is to be preserved being perfectly clean, should be rubbed in the whole inside with common salt; and a little melted butter should be poured into the cavity between the bottom and the sides, before the butter is put in. Although common salt is generally employed on this occasion, yet the following composition not only preserves the butter more effectually from taint, but also makes it look better, taste sweeter, richer, and more marrowy, than if it had been cured with common salt only. Take of best common salt two parts, saltpetre one part, lump sugar one part, and beat them up together in a mortar, so that they may be completely blended. To every pound of butter, add one ounce of this composition: mix it well in the mass, and close it up for use. Butter prepared in this manner will keep good for three years, and cannot be distinguished from that which is recently salted; but it does not taste well till it has stood a fortnight or three weeks. To preserve butter for winter use, take some that is fresh and good in the month of August or September, and put it into an unglazed jar, in layers about two inches thick, till the jar is full, within three inches of the top. Make a strong brine of salt and water, boil and skim it; and when it is quite cold, pour a sufficient quantity over the butter, so that the brine may be an inch deep. Tie paper over it, and set it in a cool place. When wanted for use, cut it no deeper than the first layer till that is all used. Then cut the second in the same manner, and so on to the bottom of the tub or jar. By this means there will be no more than a part of one layer that is not covered with the brine. To make it eat like fresh butter, dip each piece into water when it is cut out of the jar; or work it over again in fresh buttermilk or milk, and make it into shapes like fresh butter. It will eat much better with toast, than most of the fresh butter that is made in winter. It is a false idea, that butter, to be preserved for winter use, requires a greater quantity of salt: experience has proved the contrary. Butter salted in the common way, and put in pots with brine over the top, retains its flavour, and is better preserved than by an additional quantity of salt. One more observation on the preservation of butter is necessary. It is universally allowed that cleanliness is indispensible, but it is not generally suspected, that butter from being made in vessels or troughs lined with lead, or in glazed earthenware pans, which glaze is principally composed of lead, is too apt to be contaminated by particles of that deleterious metal. If the butter is in the least degree rancid, this can hardly fail to take place, and it cannot be doubted, that during the decomposition of the salts, the glazing is acted on. It is better therefore to use tinned vessels for mixing the preservative with the butter, and to pack it either in wooden vessels, or in jars of the Vauxhall ware, which being vitrified throughout, do not require an inside glazing. SAMPHIRE. This should be boiled in plenty of water, with a good deal of salt in it. Put it in when the water boils, and let it boil till quite tender. Serve it up with melted butter. SANDWICHES. Properly prepared, these form an elegant and convenient luncheon; but they have got much out of fashion, from the bad manner in which they are commonly made. They have consisted of any offal or odd ends, that cannot be sent to table in any other form, merely laid between slices of bread and butter. Whatever kind of meat is used however, it must be carefully trimmed from every bit of skin and gristle, and nothing introduced but what is relishing and acceptable. Sandwiches may be made of any of the following materials. Cold meat, poultry, potted meat, potted shrimps or lobsters, potted cheese; grated ham, beef, or tongue; anchovy, sausages, cold pork; hard eggs, pounded with a little butter and cheese; forcemeats, and curry powder. Mustard, pepper, and salt, are to be added, as occasion requires. SAVOURY BEEF. The tongue side of a round of beef is best adapted for the purpose; and if it weighs about fifteen pounds, let it hang two or three days. Then take three ounces of saltpetre, one ounce of coarse sugar, a quarter of an ounce of black pepper, some minced herbs, and three quarters of a pound of salt. Incorporate these ingredients by pounding them together in a mortar; and if approved, add a quarter of an ounce of ginger. Take out the bone, and rub the meat well with the above mixture, turning it and rubbing it every day for a fortnight. When it is to be dressed, put it into a pan with a quart of water. Cover the meat with about three pounds of mutton suet chopped, and an onion or two minced small. Put the whole into a pan, cover it with a flour crust, and bake it in a moderate oven for six hours. Instead of baking it may be covered with water, and stewed very gently for about five hours; and when sent to table, cover the top of it with finely chopped parsley. The gravy will be excellent for sauce or soup, or making of soy, or browning; and being impregnated with salt, it will keep several days. That the suet may not be wasted, when the dish comes from the oven, take out the beef, and strain the contents of the pan through a sieve. Clarify the fat when cold, and it will do for frying. The meat should not be cut till it is cold, and then with a sharp knife to prevent waste, and keep it smooth and even. This is a most excellent way of preparing savoury beef for sandwiches, and for other elegant and economical purposes. SAVOURY JELLY. If to put over cold pies, make it of a small bare knuckle of veal, or of a scrag of mutton. If the pie be of fowl or rabbit, the carcases, necks, and heads, added to any piece of meat, will be sufficient, observing to give it a consistence by adding cow heel, or shanks of mutton. Put the meat into a stewpan that shuts very close, adding a slice of lean ham or bacon, a faggot of different herbs, two blades of mace, an onion or two, a small bit of lemon peel, a tea-spoonful of Jamaica pepper bruised, and the same of whole pepper, with three pints of water. As soon as it boils skim it well, let it simmer very slowly till it is quite strong, and then strain it. When cold take off the fat with a spoon first, and then, to remove every particle of grease, lay on it a clean piece of blotting paper. If not clear, after being cold, boil it a few minutes with the whites of two eggs, but do not add the sediment. Pour it through a clean sieve, with a napkin in it, which has been dipped in boiling water, to prevent waste. SAVOURY PIES. Few articles of cookery are more generally approved than relishing pies, if properly made; and there are various things adapted to this purpose. Some eat best cold, and in that case, no suet should be put into the forcemeat that is used with them. If the pie is either made of meat that will take more dressing, to make it quite tender, than the baking of the crust will allow; or if it is to be served in an earthen pie-form, the following preparation must be observed. For instance, take three pounds of a veiny piece of beef, that has fat and lean; wash it, and season it with salt, pepper, mace, and allspice, in fine powder, rubbing them in well. Set it by the side of a slow fire, in a stewpot that will just hold it. Add about two ounces of butter, cover it quite close, and let it just simmer in its own steam till it begins to shrink. When it is cold, add more seasoning, forcemeat, and eggs. If in a dish, put some gravy to it before baking: if in a crust only, the gravy must not be added till after it is cold, and in a jelly. Forcemeat may be put both under and over the meat, if preferred to balls. SAVOURY RICE. Wash and pick some rice quite clean, stew it very gently in a small quantity of veal or rich mutton broth, with an onion, a blade of mace, pepper and salt. When swelled, but not boiled to a mash, dry it on the shallow part of a sieve before the fire, and either serve it dry, or put it in the middle of a dish, and pour hot gravy round it. SAVOURY VEAL PIE. Make a good puff-paste, and sheet your dish; cut the veal into pieces, season it with pepper, mace, and nutmeg, finely beat, and a little salt; lay it into the crust, with lambstones, sweetbreads, the yolks of hard eggs, an artichoke bottom boiled, and cut in dice, and the tops of asparagus; put in about half a pint of water, lay pieces of butter over the top, put on the lid, and ornament it to your fancy. In a quick oven about an hour and an half will bake it. Make a caudle for it thus: take half a pint of strong veal broth, a gill of white wine, and the yolks of three eggs; set this over the stove, and keep it stirring; put in some grated nutmeg, and a little salt; when it boils, if there is any scum, take it off; pour in a gill of cream, keep it stirring till it simmers, then take the lid of your pie off carefully, and pour the caudle over it, shake it round, lay on the lid as exact as you can, and send it to table. You may do lamb this way. SAVOURY VEGETABLES. Wash a dish with the white of eggs. Make several divisions with mashed potatoes and yolks of eggs mixed together and put on the dish, and bake it of a nice colour. In the first division put stewed spinach, in the second mashed turnips, in the third slices of carrots, in the fourth some button onions stewed in gravy, or any other kind of vegetables to make a variety. SAVOY BISCUITS. Take six eggs, separate the yolks and whites, mix the yolks with six ounces of sugar finely powdered, and the rind of a grated lemon. Beat them together for a quarter of an hour, then whisk the whites up in a broad dish till they are well frothed, and mix them with the yolks, adding five ounces of flour well dried. Stir the whole well together; then, with a piece of flat ivory, take out the batter, and draw it along clean white paper to the proper size of the biscuit. Sift some sugar over them, and bake them in a very hot oven. They must however be carefully watched, for they are soon done, and a few seconds over the proper time will scorch and spoil them. SAVOY CAKE. Put four eggs into a scale, and then take their weight in fine sugar, powdered and sifted, with the weight of seven eggs in flour well dried. Break the eggs, putting the yolks into one basin, and the whites into another. Mix with the yolks the sugar that has been weighed, a little grated lemon peel, and a little orange-flower water. Beat them well together for half an hour, then add the whites whipped to a froth, and mix in the flour by degrees, continuing to beat them all the time. Then put the batter into a tin well buttered, and bake it an hour and a half. This is a very delicate light cake for serving at table, or in a dessert, and is pretty when baked in a melon mould, or any other kind of shape. It may be iced at pleasure. SAUCE FOR BOILED MEAT. The sauces usually sent to table with boiled meat, not poured over the dish, but put into boats, are the following. Gravy, parsley and butter, chervil, caper, oyster, liver and parsley, onion, celery, shalot, and curry. The ingredients for compound sauces should be so nicely proportioned, that no one may be predominant, but that there may be an equal union of the combined flavours. All sauces should be sent to table as hot as possible, for nothing is more unsightly than the surface of a sauce in a frozen state, or garnished with grease on the top. SAUCE FOR BRAWN. Take a peck of bran, seven gallons of water, a pound of salt, a sprig of bay and rosemary. Boil the whole half an hour, strain it off, let it stand till it is cold, and then put it in the brawn. SAUCE FOR CARP. Rub half a pound of butter with a tea-spoonful of flour, melt it in a little water, and add nearly a quarter of a pint of thick cream. Put in half an anchovy chopped fine, but not washed; set it over the fire, and as it boils up, add a large spoonful of real India soy. If that does not give it a fine colour, add a little more. Turn it into the sauce tureen, and put in some salt and half a lemon. Stir it well to keep it from curdling. SAUCE FOR CHICKENS. An anchovy or two boned and chopped, some parsley and onion chopped, adding pepper, oil, vinegar, mustard, and walnut or mushroom ketchup. These mixed together will make a good sauce for cold chicken, partridge, or veal. SAUCE FOR CHOPS. To make a relishing sauce for steaks or chops, pound an ounce of black pepper, and half an ounce of allspice, with an ounce of salt, and half an ounce of scraped horseradish, and the same of shalot peeled and quartered. Put these ingredients into a pint of mushroom ketchup, or walnut pickle; let them steep for a fortnight, and then strain off the liquor. A tea-spoonful or two mixed with the gravy usually sent up for chops and steaks, or added to thick melted butter, will be found an agreeable addition. SAUCE FOR FISH. Simmer very gently a quarter of a pint of vinegar, and half a pint of soft water, with an onion, a little horseradish, and the following spices lightly bruised: four cloves, two blades of mace, and half a tea-spoonful of black pepper. When the onion becomes tender, chop it small, with two anchovies, and boil it for a few minutes with a spoonful of ketchup. Beat the yolks of three eggs, strain them, and mix the liquor with them by degrees. When well mixed, set the saucepan over a gentle fire, keeping the basin in one hand, into which toss the sauce to and fro, and shake the saucepan over the fire that the eggs may not curdle. The sauce must not be boiled, but made hot enough to give it the thickness of melted butter.--The following sauces for fish will be found excellent.--Lobster sauce. Take a lobster, bruise the body and spawn, that is in the inside, very fine, with the back of a spoon, mince the meat of the tail and claws small, melt your butter of a good thickness, put in the bruised part, and shake it well together, then put in the minced meat with a very little nutmeg grated, and a spoonful of white wine; let it just boil up, and pour it into boats, or over your fish.--Shrimp sauce. Put half a pint of shrimps, clean picked, into a gill of good gravy; let it boil up with a lump of butter rolled in flour, and a spoonful of red wine.--Oyster sauce. Take a pint of oysters that are tolerably large; put them into a saucepan with their own liquor, a blade of mace, a little whole pepper, and a bit of lemon peel; let them stew over the fire till the oysters are plump; pour all into a clean pan, and wash them carefully, one by one, out of the liquor; strain about a gill of the liquor through a fine sieve, add the same quantity of good gravy, cut half a pound of fresh butter in pieces, roll up some in flour, and then put all to your oysters; set it over a clear fire, shake it round often till it boils, and add a spoonful of white wine: let it just boil, and pour it into your bason or boat.--Anchovy sauce. Strip an anchovy, bruise it very fine, put it into half a pint of gravy, a quarter of a pound of butter rolled in flour, a spoonful of red wine, and a tea-spoonful of ketchup; boil all together till it is properly thick, and serve it up.--Another. Half a pint of water, two anchovies split, a clove, a bit of mace, a little lemon peel, a few peppercorns, and a large spoonful of red wine; boil all together, till your anchovy is dissolved; then strain it off, and thicken it with butter rolled in flour. This is the best sauce for skate, maid, or thornback. SAUCE FOR FISH PIES. Take equal quantities of white wine, not sweet; of vinegar, oyster liquor, and mushroom ketchup. Boil them up with an anchovy, strain the liquor, and pour it through a funnel into the pie after it is baked. Or chop an anchovy small, and boil it up with three spoonfuls of gravy, a quarter of a pint of cream, and a little butter and flour. SAUCE FOR FOWLS. Cut up the livers, add slices of lemon in dice, scalded parsley, some hard eggs, and a little salt. Mix them with butter, boil them up, and pour the sauce over the fowls. This will be found an excellent sauce for rabbit or fowl, especially to hide the bad colour of fowls. Or boil some veal gravy, with pepper and salt, the juice of a Seville orange and a lemon, and a little port wine. Pour it into the dish, or send it up in a boat. SAUCE FOR GOOSE. Mix a table-spoonful of made mustard, and half a tea-spoonful of cayenne, in a glass and a half of port wine. Heat and pour it hot into the inside of a roast goose when it is taken up, by a slit made in the apron. What is sauce for a goose will not make bad sauce for a duck. It must be understood that this is not adapted to green geese or ducklings. SAUCE FOR HASHES. Chop the bones and fragments of the joint, put them into a stewpan, and cover them with boiling water. Add six peppercorns, the same of allspice, a handful of parsley, half a head of celery cut in pieces, and a small sprig of savoury, lemon thyme, or sweet marjoram. Cover it up, and let it simmer gently for half an hour. Slice half an ounce of onion, put it into a stewpan with an ounce of butter, and fry it over a quick fire for two or three minutes, till it takes a little colour. Thicken it with flour, and mix with it by degrees the gravy made from the bones. Let it boil very gently for a quarter of an hour, till it acquires the consistence of cream, and strain it through a fine sieve into a basin. Return it to the stewpan, season it a little, and cut in a few pickled onions, walnuts, or gherkins. Add a table-spoonful of ketchup or walnut pickle, or some capers and caper liquor, or a table-spoonful of ale, a little shalot, or tarragon vinegar. Cover the bottom of the dish with sippets of bread, to retain the gravy, and garnish with fried sippets. To hash meat in perfection, it should be laid in this gravy only just long enough to get properly warmed through. SAUCE FOR LENT. Melt some butter in a saucepan, shake in a little flour, and brown it by degrees. Stir in half a pint of water, half a pint of ale, an onion, a piece of lemon peel, two cloves, a blade of mace, some whole pepper, a spoonful of ketchup, and an anchovy. Boil it all together a quarter of an hour, strain it, and it will make good sauce for various dishes. SAUCE FOR LOBSTER. Bruise the yolks of two hard boiled eggs with the back of a wooden spoon, or pound them in a marble mortar, with a tea-spoonful of water, and the soft inside and the spawn of the lobster. Rub them quite smooth with a tea-spoonful of made mustard, two table-spoonfuls of salad oil, and five of vinegar. Season it with a very little cayenne, and some salt. Tarragon vinegar, or essence of anchovy, may be added occasionally. SAUCE FOR MINCED VEAL. Take the bones of cold roast or boiled veal, dredge them well with flour, and put them into a stewpan. Add a pint and a half of weak broth, a small onion, a little grated or finely minced lemon peel, half a tea-spoonful of salt, and a blade of pounded mace. Thicken it with a table-spoonful of flour rubbed into half an ounce of butter, stir it into the broth, and let it boil gently for about half an hour. Strain it through a tammis or sieve, and it is ready to put to the veal to warm up, which is to be done by placing the stewpan by the side of the fire. Squeeze in half a lemon, cover the bottom of the dish with sippets of toasted bread cut into triangles, and garnish the dish with slices of ham or bacon. A little basil wine gives an agreeable vegetable relish to minced veal. SAUCE FOR PARTRIDGE. Rub down in a mortar the yolks of two eggs boiled hard, an anchovy, two dessert-spoonfuls of oil, three of vinegar, a shalot, cayenne if approved, and a tea-spoonful of mustard. All should be pounded before the oil is added, and strained when done. Shalot vinegar is preferable to the shalot. SAUCE FOR POULTRY. Wash and pick some chervil very carefully, put a tea-spoonful of salt into half a pint of boiling water, boil the chervil about ten minutes, drain it on a sieve, mince it quite fine, and bruise it to a pulp. Mix it by degrees with some good melted butter, and send it up in a sauce boat. This makes a fine sauce for either fish or fowl. The flavour of chervil is a strong concentration of the combined taste of parsley and fennel, but is more aromatic and agreeable than either. SAUCE FOR QUAILS. Shred two or three shalots, and boil them a few minutes in a gill of water, and half a gill of vinegar. Add to this a quarter of a pint of good gravy, and a piece of butter rolled in flour. Shake it over the fire till it thickens, and then serve it in the dish with roast quails, or any other small birds. SAUCE ROBART. This is a favourite sauce for rump steaks, and is made in the following manner. Put a piece of butter, the size of an egg, into a saucepan; and while browning over the fire, throw in a handful of sliced onions cut small. Fry them brown, but do not let them burn. Add half a spoonful of flour, shake the onions in it, and give it another fry. Then put four spoonfuls of gravy, some pepper and salt, and boil it gently ten minutes. Skim off the fat, add a tea-spoonful of made mustard, a spoonful of vinegar, and the juice of half a lemon. Boil it all together, and pour it round the steaks, which should be of a fine yellow brown, and garnished with fried parsley and lemon. SAUCE FOR STEAKS. When the steaks are taken out of the fryingpan, keep back a spoonful of the fat, or put in an ounce of butter. Add flour to thicken it, and rub it well over the fire till it is a little browned. Then add as much boiling water as will reduce it to the consistence of cream, and a table-spoonful of ketchup or walnut pickle. Let it boil a few minutes, and pour it through a sieve upon the steaks. To this may be added a sliced onion, or a minced shalot, with a glass of port wine. Broiled mushrooms are favourite relishes to beef steaks. Garnish with finely scraped horseradish, pickled walnuts, or gherkins. SAUCE FOR VEAL. Mince any kind of sweet herbs with the yolks of two or three hard eggs. Boil them together with some currants, a little grated bread, pounded cinnamon, sugar, and two whole cloves. Pour the sauce into the dish intended for the veal, with two or three slices of orange. SAUCE FOR WILD FOWL. Simmer a tea-cupful of port wine, the same quantity of good meat gravy, a little shalot, a little pepper and salt, a grate of nutmeg, and a bit of mace, for ten minutes. Put in a piece of butter, and flour; give it all one boil, and pour it through the birds. In general they are not stuffed as tame fowl, but may be done so if approved. SAUSAGES. Chop fat and lean pork together, season it with sage, pepper, salt, and two or three berries of allspice. Half fill some hog's guts that have been soaked and made extremely clean; or the meat may be kept in a very small pan closely covered, and so rolled and dusted with a very little flour before it is fried. The sausages must be pricked with a fork before they are dressed, or they will burst in the frying. Serve them on stewed red cabbage, or mashed potatoes put in a form, and browned with a salamander.--The following is the way of making excellent sausages to eat cold. Season some fat and lean pork with salt, saltpetre, black pepper, and allspice, all in fine powder. Rub the mixture into the meat, and let it lie in pickle for six days. Then cut it small, and mix with it some shred shalot or garlic, as fine as possible. Have ready an ox-gut that has been scoured, salted, and well soaked, and fill it with the above stuffing. Tie up the ends, and hang it to smoke as you would hams, but first wrap it in a fold or two of old muslin. It must be high dried. Some choose to boil it, but others eat it without boiling. The skin should be tied in different places, so as to make each link about eight or nine inches long. SAUSAGES WITH APPLES. Fry some sliced apples with the sausages, till they are of a light brown. Lay the sausages in the middle of the dish, and the apples round them. Or fry them without apples, and serve them up on fried bread, with mashed potatoes. Or put the sausages into boiling water, simmer them about five minutes, and serve them up with poached eggs, or roasted potatoes. SCALDS. When a burn or scald is trifling, and occasions no blister, it is sufficient to put a compress of several folds of soft linen upon it, dipped in cold water, and to renew it every quarter of an hour till the pain is entirely removed. When a burn or scald blisters, a compress of fine linen spread over with soft pomatum should be applied to it, and changed twice a day. If the skin is burnt through, and the flesh under it injured, the same pomatum may be applied; but instead of a compress of linen, it should be spread upon a piece of soft lint, applied directly over it, and this cover with a slip of simple adhesive plaster. For an extensive burn or scald, skilful advice should immediately be obtained, as it always endangers the life of the sufferer. A linen rag dipped in laudanum, or spread thick with honey, will be sufficient in ordinary cases. The pomatum proper, where any serious injury has been sustained, is made in the following manner. Take an ounce of the ointment called nutritum, the yolk of a small egg, or the half of a large one, and mix them well together. The nutritum may easily be made by rubbing two drains of cerus, or white lead, with half an ounce of vinegar, and three ounces of common oil, and mixing them well together. If the ingredients for making nutritum are not at hand, to make the pomatum, one part of wax should be melted with eight parts of oil, and the yolk of an egg added to two ounces of this mixture. A still more simple application, and sooner prepared, is to beat up a whole egg with two spoonfuls of sweet oil, free from any rankness. When the pain of the burn and all its other symptoms have nearly subsided, it will be sufficient to apply the following plaster. Boil together to a proper consistence, half a pound of oil of roses, a quarter of a pound of red lead, and two ounces of vinegar. Dissolve in the mixture three quarters of an ounce of yellow wax, and one dram of camphor, stirring the whole well together. Take it off the fire, and spread it upon sheets or slips of paper, of any size that may be most convenient. For an adhesive plaster, melt four ounces of white wax, and add one or two spoonfuls of oil. Dip into this mixture, slips of moderately thin linen, and let them dry; or spread it thin and evenly over them.--The following is a highly esteemed method of curing scalds or burns. Take half a pound of alum in powder, dissolve it in a quart of water; bathe the burn or scald with a linen rag wet in this mixture; then bind the wet rag thereon with a slip of linen, and moisten the bandage with the alum water frequently, without removing it, in the course of two or three days. A workman who fell into a copper of boiling liquor, where he remained three minutes before taken out, was immediately put into a tub containing a saturated solution of alum in water, where he was kept two hours; his sores were then dressed with cloths and bandages, wet in the above mixture, and kept constantly moistened for twenty-four hours, and in a few days he was able to return to business.--The application of vinegar to burns and scalds is to be strongly recommended. It possesses active powers, and is a great antiseptic and corrector of putrescence and mortification. The progressive tendency of burns of the unfavourable kind, or ill-treated, is to putrescence and mortification. Where the outward skin is not broken, it may be freely used every hour or two; where the skin is broken, and if it gives pain, it must be gently used. But equal parts of vinegar and water, in a tepid state, used freely every three or four hours, are generally the best application, and the best rule to be directed by.--House-leek, either applied by itself, or mixed with cream, gives present relief in burns, and other external inflammations. SCALD HEAD. This disorder is chiefly incident to children, and is seated in the roots of the hair. It is frequently cured by changing the nurse, weaning the child, and removing it to a dry and airy situation. If the itching of the head becomes very troublesome, it may be allayed by gently rubbing it with equal parts of the oil of sweet almonds, and the juice expressed from the leaves of the common burdock, simmered together till they form a soapy liniment, adding a few grains only of pearlash. If this treatment be not sufficient, cut off the hair, or apply an adhesive plaster made of bees' wax, pitch, and mutton suet. After it is removed, the head should be washed with warm soapy water, and the whole body cleansed in a lukewarm bath. SCALDED CODLINS. Wrap each in a vine leaf, and pack them close in a nice saucepan: when full, pour in as much water as will cover them. Set the saucepan over a gentle fire, and let them simmer slowly till done enough to take the thin skin off when cold. Place them in a dish, with or without milk, cream or custard: if the latter, there should be no ratafia. Dust some fine sugar over the apples. SCALDED CREAM. Let the milk stand twenty-four hours in winter, and twelve at least in summer. Place the milk pan on a hot hearth, or in a wide brass kettle of water, large enough to receive the pan. It must remain on the fire till quite hot, but on no account boil, or there will be a skim instead of cream upon the milk. When it is done enough, the undulations on the surface will begin to look thick, and a ring will appear round the pan, the size of the bottom. The time required to scald cream depends on the size of the pan, and the heat of the fire; but the slower it is done the better. When the cream is scalded, remove the pan into the dairy, and skim it the next day. In cold weather it may stand thirty-six hours, and never less than two meals. In the west of England, butter is usually made of cream thus prepared; and if made properly it is very firm. SCALDING FRUIT. The best way of scalding any kind of fruit, is to do it in a stone jar on a hot iron hearth; or by putting the vessel into a saucepan of water, called a water-bath. Vinegar also is best boiled in the same manner. SCALDING PUDDING. From a pint of new milk take out enough to mix three large spoonfuls of flour into a smooth batter. Set the remainder of the milk on the fire, and when it is scalding hot, pour in the batter, and keep it on the fire till it thickens. Stir it all the time to prevent its burning, but do not let it boil. When of a proper thickness, pour it into a basin, and let it stand to cool. Then put in, six eggs, a little sugar, and some nutmeg. Boil it an hour in a basin well buttered. SCALLOPED OYSTERS. Having opened the oysters, and washed them from the grit, put them into scallop shells or saucers, and bake them before the fire in a Dutch oven. Add to them some crumbs of bread, pepper, salt, nutmeg, and a bit of butter, before they are set to the fire.--Another way. To fill four scallop shells, have a pint and a half of oysters, put them on the fire, in their own liquor, with a blade of mace, a little salt, and some whole pepper; (put a salamander in the fire to be red hot,) grate some crumbs of bread sufficient for your shells; butter the inside of the shells very well, and strew bread crumbs thereon; take your oysters off the fire, pour them into a pan, take off the beards, and fill the shells; grate a little nutmeg into every shell, put a spoonful or two of the liquor upon the oysters, and fill up the shells quite full with bread crumbs; set them before the fire, and baste them with butter all over the bread, then set them upon a gridiron over a clear fire, for about half an hour; hold your salamander over them, till they are of a fine brown, then send them to table for a side-dish. In the same manner do shrimps, muscles, or cockles. SCALLOPED POTATOES. When boiled, mash them with milk, pepper, salt, and butter. Fill some scallop shells, smooth the tops, set them in a Dutch oven to brown before the fire; or add the yolk of an egg, and mash them with cream, butter, salt, and pepper. Score the top with a knife, and put thin slices over, before they are put into the oven. SCALLOPED VEAL. Mince it fine, set it over the fire a few minutes, with pepper and salt, a little nutmeg and cream. Put it into scallop shells, and fill them up with grated bread; over which put a little butter, and brown them before the fire. SCARLET DYE. Wool may be dyed scarlet, the most splendid of all colours, by first boiling it in a solution of muris-sulphate of tin; then dying it a pale yellow with quercitron bark, and afterwards crimson with cochineal. SCORCHED LINEN. Boil to a good consistency, in half a pint of vinegar, two ounces of fuller's earth, an ounce of hen's dung, half an ounce of cake soap, and the juice of two onions. Spread this composition over the whole of the damaged part; and, if the scorching were not quite through, and the threads actually consumed, after suffering it to dry on, and letting it receive a subsequent good washing or two, the place will appear full as white and perfect as any other part of the linen. SCOTCH BARLEY BROTH. Cut a leg of beef into pieces, and boil it in three gallons of water, with a sliced carrot and crust of bread, till reduced to half the quantity. Strain it off, and put it again into the pot. Boil it an hour, with half a pound of Scotch barley, a few heads of celery cut small, a sprig of sweet herbs, an onion, a little minced parsley, and a few marigolds. Put in a large fowl, and boil it till the broth is good. Season it with salt, take out the onion and herbs, and serve it up with the fowl in the middle. Broth may be made with a sheep's head chopped in pieces, or six pounds of thick flank of beef, boiled in six quarts of water. Put the barley in with the meat, and boil it gently for an hour, keeping it clear from scum. The articles before-mentioned may then be added, with sliced turnips and carrots, and boiled together till the broth is good. Season it, take it up, pour the broth into a tureen, with the meat in the middle, and carrots and turnips round the dish. SCOTCH BURGOO. This is a sort of oatmeal hasty pudding without milk, much used by the Scotch peasantry; and as an example of economy, is worthy of being occasionally adopted by all who have large families and small incomes. It is made in the following easy and expeditious manner. To a quart of oatmeal, add gradually two quarts of water, so that the whole may mix smoothly. Stir it continually over the fire, and boil it for a quarter of an hour. Take it up, and stir in a little salt and butter, with or without pepper. This quantity will provide five or six persons with a tolerable meal. SCOTCH COLLOPS. Cut veal into thin round slices, about three inches over, and beat them with a rolling-pin. Grate a little nutmeg over, dip them into the yolk of an egg, and fry them in a little butter of a fine brown. Pour off the butter, and have ready warmed half a pint of gravy, with a little butter and flour in it, the yolk of an egg, two large spoonfuls of cream, and a dust of salt. Do not boil the sauce, but stir it till it comes to a fine thickness, and pour it over the collops.--Another way. Take what quantity of veal you want, cut into collops, and beat it with the back of a knife; season as above, and fry them in butter of a fine brown; pour off the butter, and put in half a pint of good gravy, and a small glass of white wine: you may add what other ingredients you please. Roll a piece of butter as big as a walnut in flour, toss it up, and when it boils, take off the scum very clean: let your sauce be thick enough to hang; dish it up, and garnish to your fancy.--Another way: dressed white. Take three or four pounds of a fillet of veal, cut in small thin slices; then take a clean stewpan, butter it on the inside; season your collops with beaten mace, nutmeg, and salt; dust them over with flour, and lay them into your stewpan, piece by piece, till all your meat is in: set it over the stove, and toss it up together, till all your meat be white. Put in half a pint of strong veal broth; let them boil, and take off all the scum clean; beat up the yolks of two eggs in a gill of cream, and put it to your collops, and keep it tossing all the while, till it just boils up; then squeeze in a little lemon, toss it round, and dish it up. Garnish your dish with sliced lemon. If you would make a fine dish of it, when you put in your veal broth, you must add morels, truffles, mushrooms, artichoke bottoms cut in small dice, force-meat balls boiled, not fried, and a few cock's combs; then garnish your dish with fried oysters, petit-pasties, lemon, and barberries. Remember when you make a made dish, and are obliged to use cream, that it should be the last thing; for it is apt to curdle if it boils at any time. SCOTCH EGGS. Boil five pullet's eggs, quite hard; and without removing the white, cover them completely with a fine relishing forcemeat, in which, let scraped ham, or chopped anchovy, bear a due proportion. Fry of a beautiful yellow brown, and serve with good gravy in the dish. SCOTCH LEEK SOUP. Prepare a sheep's head, either by cleaning the skin very nicely, or taking it off, as preferred. Split the head in two, take out the brains, and put it into a kettle with plenty of water. Add a large quantity of leeks cut small, with pepper and salt. Stew these very slowly for three hours. Mix as much oatmeal as will make the soup pretty thick, and make it very smooth with cold water. Pour it into the soup, continue stirring it till the whole is smooth and well done, and then serve it up. SCOTCH PANCAKES. To a pint of cream beat up eight eggs, leaving out two whites, a quarter of a pound of butter melted, one spoon-full of flour, a nutmeg grated, three spoonfuls of sack, and a little sugar. When the butter is cool, mix all together into a batter; have ready a stove with charcoal, and a small fryingpan no bigger than a plate, tie a piece of butter in a clean cloth; when the pan is hot rub this round it, and put in the batter with a spoon, run it round the pan very thin and fry them only on one side; put a saucer into the middle of the dish, and lay pancakes over it, till it is like a little pyramid; strew pounded sugar between every pancake, and garnish the dish with Seville oranges cut in small quarters. SCOURING BALLS. Portable balls for removing spots from clothes, may be thus prepared. Dry some fuller's-earth, so that it crumbles into a powder; then moisten it with the clear juice of lemons, and add a small quantity of pure pearl-ash. Knead the whole carefully together, till it acquires the consistence of a thick elastic paste: form it into convenient small balls, and dry them in the sun. To be used, first moisten the spot on the clothes with water, then rub it with the ball, and let the spot dry in the sun. After having washed it with pure water, the spot will entirely disappear. SCROPHULA. The principal difficulty in curing the scrophula, or king's evil, arises from the circumstance, that it may remain concealed for a long time, and thus become deeply rooted in the constitution before its effects are evident. The system requires to be strengthened by the free use of Peruvian bark, sea water and sea bathing, and moderate exercise in the open air. Hemlock plasters applied to the swellings, and drinking of milk whey, have also been found useful. But in the progress of the disorder, medical advice will be necessary. SCURVY. When the scurvy proceeds chiefly from the long-continued use of salt provisions, it will be necessary to take large portions of the juice of lemons, oranges, or tamarinds; to eat water cresses, scurvy grass, and fresh vegetables of every description. But where these cannot be procured, pickled cabbage, cucumber, onions, and other fruits, as well as horseradish and mustard, may be taken with considerable advantage. Take also a pound of water-dock roots, and boil them in six pints of water, adding an ounce or two of chrystals of tartar, till one third part of the liquor be evaporated; and drink half a pint or more of it every day. Raw carrots eaten are also very good for the scurvy; and during a voyage, they should be packed up in casks of sand and kept for use. If the limbs be swelled, or joints stiff, it will be proper to foment them with warm vinegar, or bathe them in lukewarm water. A valuable ointment may be made of a pound of fresh lard, and as much cliver or goose-grass as the lard will moisten. Boil them together over a slow fire, stir the mixture till it turns brown, and strain it through a cloth. Take the ointment from the water, and rub it on the parts affected. SCURVY GRASS ALE. Brew it as for other ale, omitting the hops; and when the liquor boils, put in half a bushel of fine wormwood, a bushel of scurvy grass, and twelve pounds of sugar. This quantity of ingredients is sufficient for a hogshead. SEA-KALE is a highly nutritious and palatable culinary vegetable. It is an early esculent plant, the young shoots of which are used somewhat in the manner of asparagus, and may, it is said, be grown by the method of cultivation which is given hereafter, to a size and of a delicacy of flavour greatly superior to that which is commonly brought to the table. In the cultivation of it in the garden, the improved method which has lately been advised, is that of preparing the ground for it by trenching it two feet and a half deep, about the close of the year or in the beginning of it: when not that depth naturally, and of a light quality, it is to be made so by artificial means, such as the applying of a suitable proportion of fine white sand, and very rotten vegetable mould: if the ground be wet in the winter season, it should be completely drained, that no water may stagnate in it near the bottom of the cultivated mould, as the strength of the plants depends upon the dryness and richness of the bottom soil. After which the ground is to be divided into beds, four feet in width, with alleys of eighteen inches between them; then, at the distance of every two feet each way, five or six seeds are to be sown, in a circle of about four inches diameter, to the depth of two inches. This business should be performed in a strictly regular and exact manner, as the plants are afterwards to be covered by means of pots for blanching them, and the health and beauty of the crops equally depend upon their standing at regular distances. If the seeds which were sown were sound and perfect, they will come up and shew themselves in the last spring or beginning summer months; which as soon as they have made three or four leaves, all but three of the strongest and best plants should be taken away from each circle; planting out those which are pulled up, which, when done by a careful hand, may be performed so as for them to have the whole of their tap-root in a spare bed for extra forcing, or the repairs of accidents. The turnip fly and wire worm are to be carefully guarded against, the latter by picking them by the hand from out of the ground, and the former by the use of lime laid round the young plants in a circle. When the summer months prove dry, the beds should be plentifully watered. As soon as the leaves decay in the autumn they should be cleared away, and the beds be covered with light fresh earth and sand to the thickness of an inch; the compost thus used having laid some time in a heap, and been turned several times, so as to be free from weeds, and the ova of insects as well as grubs. Upon the sandy loam dressing, about six inches in depth of light stable litter is to be applied, which completes the work of the first year. In the spring of the second, when the plants are beginning to push, the stable litter is to be raked off, a little of the most rotten being dug into the alleys, and another inch depth of loam and sand applied. Cutting this year is to be refrained from, notwithstanding some of the plants may rise strong, and the beds managed exactly as before during this winter season. In the third season, a little before the plants begin to stir, the covering laid on for the winter is to be raked off, and an inch in depth of pure dry sand or fine gravel now laid on. Then each circle of plants is to be covered with one of the blanching-pots already alluded to, pressing it firmly into the ground, so as to exclude all light and air, as the colour and flavour of the shoots are greatly injured by exposure to either of them. When the beds are twenty-six feet long, and four wide, they will hold twenty-four blanching-pots, with three plants under each, making seventy-two plants in a bed. They are to be examined from time to time, the young stems being cut, when about three inches above the ground, care being taken not to injure any of the remaining buds below, some of which will immediately begin to swell. In this way a succession of gatherings may be continued for the space of six weeks, after which period the plants are to be uncovered, and their leaves suffered to grow, that they may acquire and return nutriment to the root for the next year's buds. When seeds are not wanted, the flowers should be pinched off by the finger and thumb, as long as they appear. Where the expence of blanching-pots is objected to, the beds must be covered with a large portion of loose gravel and mats; but the saving is trifling, when the time and trouble of removing and replacing the gravel, for the cutting of the crop and securing the plant, are considered. By this mode of management, sea-kale is said to have been cut which measured ten, eleven, and even twelve inches in circumference, and that each blanching-pot on the average afforded a dish of it twice in the season. The blanching-pots for this use are somewhat of the same shape and size as the large bell-glasses commonly employed in market gardens for raising tender vegetable crops, but made of the same materials as the common earthenware, having a handle at the top. They may be about a foot and a half in diameter at the rim where they apply to the ground. _Forcing sea-kale._--It is supposed that no vegetable can be so easily and cheaply forced as this, or require so little trouble; as the dung is in the finest state possible for spring hot-beds, after the common crop has been cut and gathered. The principal circumstance necessary in this business, is that of being very attentive and particular in guarding against too great a heat. The temperature under the blanching-pots should constantly be kept as near fifty-five degrees of Fahrenheit's scale as possible, and on no account higher than sixty at any time. In this intention, in either of the two concluding months of the year, as the sea-kale may be wanted more early or late, a suitable quantity of fresh stable dung should be collected and prepared, to cover both the beds and the alleys from two to three feet in height; as in the quantity to be laid on, a great deal must always be left to the judgment of the gardener, as well as to the state of the season as to mildness or severity. It should invariably be well pressed down between the blanching-pots, heat-sticks being placed at proper intervals, by the occasional examination of which the heat below will be readily shewn. When the dung has remained in this situation four or five days, the pots should be examined to see the state of the shoots It not unfrequently happens that worms spring above the surface, and spoil the delicacy of flavour in the young shoots. In order to prevent this, it is best to cover it with dry sea-coal ashes, which have been sifted neither very small nor very large. Salt has also the power of destroying them in an effectual manner, without injuring the sea-kale. The crop, it is said, will be ready to cut and gather in three weeks or a month from the first application of the heat; but as much danger and mischief are the consequence when this is violent, it is advised to begin soon enough, and to force slowly, rather than in too quick a manner. It is likewise necessary to cut the leaves off a fortnight or three weeks before they decay, in those plants which are intended to be forced at a very early period. It is also suggested that the blanching-pots used in forcing should be made in two pieces, the uppermost of which should fit like a cap upon the lower; as the crop might then be examined at all times without disturbing the hot dung. Sea-kale is cooked, and sent to the table in the same manner as asparagus. SEA SICKNESS. This disorder may in a great measure be prevented, by taking a few drops of vitriolic æther on a bit of sugar dissolved in the mouth, or drinking a few drops of æther in water, with a little sugar. SEA WATER. To render salt water fit for washing linen at sea, a quantity of soda should be kept at hand, and used for that purpose, as often as occasion requires. As much soda should be put into sea water as will render it turbid, and completely precipitate the lime and magnesia which it contains. The water will then become sufficiently alkaline for the purpose of washing. SHAVING SOAP. Cut half a pound of fine white soap in thin slices, add half an ounce of salt of tartar, and mix them with full half a pint of spirits of wine. Put the ingredients into a quart bottle, tie it down with a bladder, digest it in a gentle heat till the soap is dissolved, and let the air escape through a pinhole in the bladder. Filter the mixture through paper, and scent it with a little bergamot, or essence of lemon. It will have the appearance of fine oil. A small quantity mixed with water will produce an excellent lather, and is much superior to any other composition in washing or shaving. SEALING OF LETTERS. To secure letters from being opened, beat up some fine bean flour with the white of an egg, and make it into a paste. Use a little of it in the form of a wafer, close the letters with it, and hold the sealed part to the spout of a tea-pot of boiling water. The steam will harden the cement so that the letter cannot be opened without tearing, and will render it more secure than either wax or wafer. SEASONING. Though general rules may be given for stuffings and seasoning, yet much must be left to common discretion. The different tastes of people require more or less of the flavour of spices, salt, garlic, butter, and other ingredients; and the proportions must of course be regulated accordingly, taking care that a variety of flavour be given to the different dishes served at the same time. The proper articles should be kept ready for use; but if suet or bacon be not at hand, butter must be used instead, and fish gravy instead of stock or meat gravy. More depends on judgment and care than on the ingredients merely, of which the dish is composed. SEASONING MAHOGANY. Having provided a steam-tight wooden box, capable of holding such pieces of mahogany as are wanted for chairs or other purposes, a pipe from a boiler must be adapted to it, by means of which the box is to be filled with steam, to a temperature about equal to that of boiling water. The time required for wood an inch and a half thick, is about two hours; and pieces of this thickness become sufficiently dry to work, after being placed in a warm room for twenty-four hours. By this treatment the wood is something improved in colour, and the blemishes of green veins are entirely removed. The eggs also of any insect contained in the wood, will be destroyed by the heat of the steam. By this process, two important advantages are gained. There is a saving of capital, vested in wood lying to season during several months; and the warping of small pieces of wood is entirely prevented. SEED CAKE. Mix a quarter of a peck of flour with half a pound of sugar, a quarter of an ounce of allspice, and a little ginger. Melt three quarters of a pound of butter, with half a pint of milk; when just warm, put to it a quarter of a pint of yeast, and work it up to a good dough. Add seeds or currants, let it stand before the fire a few minutes before it goes to the oven, and bake it an hour and a half.--Another way is to mix a pound and a half of flour, a pound of lump sugar, eight eggs beaten separately, an ounce of seeds, two spoonfuls of yeast, and the same of milk and water. Milk alone soon causes cake and bread to get dry.--Another. Break eighteen eggs into a large pan, and leave out eight of the whites; add to them two pounds of fresh butter, and with your hand work the butter and eggs till they are well mixed, and like thick barme; put in two or three spoonfuls of sack, two pounds of lump sugar sifted, two pounds of fine flour, and two ounces of carraway seeds, mix the sugar, flour, and seeds, well together, and set it before the fire for half an hour, covering it with a cloth, and remember to put the flour, &c. in by degrees. Tin pudding pans are the best things to bake it in, and take care it be not over-done; they will rise very high in the oven, and when they begin to sink again, they are baked enough.--A cheap seed cake. Take half a peck of flour, set a pint of milk on the fire, and break in a pound and a half of butter; when all the butter is melted, stir in half a pint of ale yeast that is not bitter. Take half an ounce of allspice beat fine, and a pound of sugar sifted; mix these with the flour first, then make a hole in the middle of the flour, and pour in the butter, milk, and yeast. While you are working it, strew in some carraway seeds, and set it before the fire to rise; bake it an hour and a half in a quick oven. It is best baked in two cakes; if you make it in two, put currants in one, and carraway seeds in the other.--Seed cake the nun's way. To four pounds of the finest flour, add three pounds of double-refined sugar beat and sifted; mix this with the flour, and set it before the fire to dry; beat up four pounds of nice fresh butter to a cream, break three dozen of eggs (leaving out sixteen whites) and beat them up very well, with a tea-cupful of orange-flower water, strain them into the butter, and beat them well therewith; take the flour and sugar, and mix in six ounces of carraway seeds; put these ingredients to the butter and eggs by degrees, and beating all continually for two hours: butter a hoop, and bake it three hours in a moderate oven. If you please, you may add two or three grains of ambergris. SEED WATER. Bruise a spoonful of coriander seeds, and half a spoonful of carraway. Boil them in a pint of water, strain them, beat up the yolk of an egg and mix with the water, add a little sweet wine and lump sugar. SEEDS. To discover when seeds of any kind are fully ripe and good, throw them into a basin of water. If not sufficiently ripe, they will swim on the surface; but when arrived at full maturity, they will be found uniformly to sink to the bottom; a fact that is said to hold equally true of all seeds, from the cocoa nut to the orchis.--Seeds of plants may be preserved, for many months at least, by causing them to be packed, either in husks, pods, &c. in absorbent paper, with raisins or brown moist sugar; or a good way, practised by gardeners, is to wrap the seed in brown paper or cartridge paper, pasted down, and then varnished over.--To preserve seeds, when sown, from vermin. Steep the grain or seed three or four hours, or a sufficient time for it to penetrate the skin, or husk, in a strong solution of liver of sulphur. SHADS. They must be scaled very clean, then gut and wash them, dry them in a cloth, score them on the sides, rub them with butter, sprinkle salt over them, and broil them of a fine brown; boil sorrel, chervil, onion and parsley, chop it fine; melt a piece of butter in cream sufficient for your sauce, then put in your herbs, season it with salt, pepper, and a little nutmeg, toss it up together, and pour over your fish; or you may serve it with a ragout of mushrooms, or a brown sauce with capers, garnished with lemon. SEVILLE ORANGE POSSET. Squeeze Seville orange or lemon juice into a glass dish, or mix them together if preferred, and sweeten it well with fine sugar. Then warm some cream over the fire, but do not let it boil. Put it into a teapot and pour it into the juice, holding the teapot up very high, that it may froth and curdle the better. Instead of cream, milk thickened with one or two yolks of eggs may be used, if more convenient. SHALOT. As the habits of growth in roots of this nature differ greatly in the different sorts, some requiring to be nearly or quite on the surface of the ground, while others stand in need of being a considerable depth below it, which has not been well attended to in the garden culture of such roots; it may be readily supposed that these have considerable influence and effect on the growth of such root crops. In consequence of finding that crops of this root generally became mouldy and perished, and that they were usually planted, from the directions of garden cultivators, at the depth of two or three inches from the surface; the injury, failure, and destruction of such crops, were naturally ascribed to this cause. A few bulbs or bunches of this root were consequently divided, as far as possible, into single buds or bulbs, and planted upon or rather above the surface of the ground, some very rich soil being placed underneath them, and the mould on each side raised to support them, until they became firmly rooted. This mould was then removed by means of a hoe, and the use of the watering-pot, and the bulbs of course left wholly out of the ground. The growth of the plants had now so near a resemblance to that of the common onion, as not readily to be distinguished from it, until their irregularity of form, the consequence of the numerous germs within each bulb, became evident. The forms of the bulbs, however, continued constantly different from all those raised in the ordinary method, being much more broad, but of less length. The crop was a great deal better in quality, and at the same time much more abundant in quantity. It may consequently not be unworthy of the gardener's attention.--Garlic, rocambole, and shalot are chiefly used in ragouts and sauces which require to be highly flavoured, unless a separate sauce is made of them only; and indeed, the mixing of animal juices in preparations of vegetables is by no means to be recommended, where the health is to be consulted. The substitution of butter and flour, yolks of eggs and cream, mushroom or walnut ketchup, is greatly to be preferred to rich gravies, in dressing of vegetables. SHALOT SAUCE. Put a few chopped shalots into a little gravy boiled clear, and nearly half as much vinegar. Season with pepper and salt, and boil it half an hour. SHALOT VINEGAR. Split six or eight shalots; put them into a wide-mouthed quart bottle, and fill it up with vinegar. Stop it close; and in a month the vinegar will be fit for use. SHALOT WINE. Peel, mince, and pound in a mortar, three ounces of shalots, and infuse them in a pint of sherry for ten days. Pour off the clear liquor on three ounces more of shalots, and let the wine stand on them ten days longer. An ounce of scraped horseradish may be added to the above, and a little lemon peel cut thin. This is rather the most expensive, but by far the most elegant preparation of shalot. It imparts the onion flavour to soups and sauces, for chops, steaks, hashes, or boiled meats, more agreeably than any other, without leaving any unpleasant taste in the mouth. SHANK JELLY. Boil fifteen shanks of mutton in three quarts of water. Two cow heels, three calf's feet, or five sheep's feet, will answer the same purpose. Let them stew no longer than to extract a good jelly, and when cold take off the fat, and clear it from the settlement at the bottom. The jelly may be cleared with whites of eggs, and running it through a jelly bag. Orange or lemon juice, or wine, and sugar, may be added, as is suitable for the patient. Wine however should never be given to any invalid, without the express permission of the medical attendant, as it may do more harm than good, unless used with great discretion. Much less should any kind of spirits be allowed, as they are of a much more dangerous nature than wine in such cases. SHARP SAUCE. Put into a silver saucepan, or one that is very clean and well tinned, half a pint of the best white wine vinegar, and a quarter of a pound of pounded loaf sugar. Simmer it gently over the fire, skim it well, pour it through a tammis or fine sieve, and send it up in a basin. This sauce is adapted for venison, and is often preferred to the sweet wine sauces. SHEEP'S EARS. Take a dozen and a half of sheep's ears, scald and clean them very well; then make a forcemeat of veal, suet, crumbs of bread, a little nutmeg, pepper, salt, and beaten mace, parsley and thyme shred fine; mix these ingredients with the yolk of an egg; fill the ears, and lay one over the other, press them close, flour them, and fry them in clean beef dripping, of a fine brown; serve them up with gravy sauce in the dish, garnished with lemon. This is a pretty side dish. SHELFORD PUDDING. Mix three quarters of a pound of currants or raisins, one pound of suet, a pound of flour, six eggs, some good milk, lemon peel, and a little salt. Boil it in a melon shape six hours. SHERBET. This liquor is a species of negus without the wine. It consists of water, lemon, or orange juice, and sugar, in which are dissolved perfumed cakes, made of the best Damascus fruit, and containing also an infusion of some drops of rose-water: another kind is made of violets, honey, juice of raisins, &c. It is well calculated for assuaging thirst, as the acidity is agreeably blended with sweetness. It resembles, indeed, those fruits which we find so grateful when one is thirsty. SHIN OF BEEF. A shin or leg of beef, weighing full six pounds, will make a large tureen of excellent soup. Cut half a pound of bacon into slices about half an inch thick, lay it at the bottom of a soup kettle or deep stewpan, and place the meat on this, after having first chopped the bone in two or three places. Add two carrots, two turnips, a head of celery, two large onions with two or three cloves stuck in them, a dozen black peppercorns, the same of Jamaica pepper, and a bundle of lemon thyme, winter savoury, and parsley. Just cover the meat with cold water, boil it over a quick fire, skim it well, and then let it stew very gently by the side of the fire for four hours till it is quite tender. Take out all the meat, strain off the soup, and remove the fat from the surface when cold. Cut the meat into small pieces, and put them into the soup, when it is to be warmed up for the table. A knuckle of veal may be dressed in the same way. SHINGLES. This disorder, of the same nature as St. Anthony's fire, and requiring a similar mode of treatment, attacks various parts of the body, but chiefly the waist, around which it appears in numerous pimples of a livid hue, and seldom attended with fever. No attempt should be made to repel the eruption; the body should be kept gently open, and the part affected rubbed with a little warm wheaten flour. Then linen bags of oatmeal, camomile flowers, and a little bruised camphor may also be applied, which will effectually relieve the inflammation. SHOE BLACKING. In three pints of small beer, put two ounces of ivory black, and one pennyworth of brown sugar. As soon as they boil, put a dessert-spoonful of sweet oil, and then boil slowly till reduced to a quart. Stir it up with a stick every time it is used; and put it on the shoe with a brush when wanted.--Another. Two ounces of ivory black; one tea-spoonful of oil of vitriol, one table-spoonful of sweet oil; and two ounces of brown sugar; roll the same into a ball, and to dissolve it add half a pint of vinegar.--Another. Take ivory black and brown sugar candy, of each two ounces; of sweet oil a table-spoonful; add gradually thereto a pint of vinegar, cold, and stir the whole till gradually incorporated.--Another. To one pint of vinegar add half an ounce of vitriolic acid, half an ounce of copperas, two ounces of sugar candy, and two ounces and a half of ivory black: mix the whole well together.--Another. Sweet oil, half an ounce; ivory black and treacle, of each half a pound; gum arabic half an ounce; vinegar, three pints; boil the vinegar, and pour it hot on the other ingredients.--Another. Three ounces of ivory black, one ounce of sugar candy, one ounce of oil of vitriol, one ounce of spirits of salts, one lemon, one table-spoonful of sweet oil, and one pint of vinegar.--First mix the ivory black and sweet oil together, then the lemon and sugar candy, with a little vinegar to qualify the blacking, then add your spirits of salts and vitriol, and mix them all well together. N. B. The last ingredients prevent the vitriol and salts from injuring the leather, and add to the lustre of the blacking.--Another. Ivory black, two ounces; brown sugar, one ounce and a half; sweet oil, half a table-spoonful. Mix them well, and then gradually add half a pint of small beer.--Another. A quarter of a pound of ivory black, a quarter of a pound of moist sugar, a table-spoonful of flour, a piece of tallow about the size of a walnut, and a small piece of gum arabic.--Make a paste of the flour, and while hot put in the tallow, then the sugar, and afterwards mix the whole well together in a quart of water, and you will have a beautiful shining blacking. SHOES. The best way of cleaning shoes in the winter time is to scrape off the dirt with the back of a knife, or with a wooden knife made for that purpose, while the shoes are wet, and wipe off the remainder with a wet sponge, or piece of flannel. Set them to dry at a distance from the fire, and they will afterwards take a fine polish. This will save much of the trouble in cleaning, when the dirt is suffered to dry on; and by applying a little sweet oil occasionally, the leather will be prevented from growing hard. To secure the soles of shoes or boots from being penetrated with rain or snow, melt a little bees' wax and mutton suet, and rub it slightly over the edges of the sole where the stitches are; this will be sufficient to repel the wet. Occasionally rubbing the soles with hot tar, and dusting over it a small quantity of iron filings, will tend to fill up the pores of the leather, and preserve the feet dry and warm in winter. The practice of pouring brandy or spirits into shoes or boots, with a view to prevent the effects of wet or cold, is very pernicious, and often brings on inflammation of the bowels. The best remedy for damp feet is to bathe them in warm water; and if they become sore or blistered, rub them with a little mutton suet. As many evils and inconveniences arise from wearing improper shoes, it may be necessary to observe, that an easy shoe, adapted to the size and shape of the foot, is of considerable consequence. The soles should be thick, and their extremities round rather than pointed, in order to protect the toes from being injured by sharp stones, or other rough substances, that may occur in walking. Persons wearing narrow or fashionable shoes, merely for the sake of appearance, not only suffer immediate fatigue and languor when walking only a short distance, but are exposed to the pain and inconvenience of warts and corns, and numerous other maladies; while the want of dry easy shoes checks the necessary perspiration, which extends its influence to other parts of the body. For children, a kind of half boots, such as may be laced above the ancles, are superior to shoes, as they not only have the advantage of fitting the leg, but are likewise not easily trodden down at the heels, and children can walk more firmly in them than in shoes. SHORT BISCUITS. Beat half a pound of butter to a cream, then add half a pound of loaf sugar finely powdered and sifted, the yolks of two eggs, and a few carraways. Mix in a pound of flour well dried, and add as much cream as will make it a proper stiffness for rolling. Roll it out on a clean board, and cut the paste into cakes with the top of a glass or cup. Bake them on tins for about half an hour.--Another way. A quarter of a pound of butter beat to a cream, six ounces of fine sugar powdered and sifted, four yolks of eggs, three quarters of a pound of flour, a little mace, and a little grated lemon peel. Make them into a paste, roll it out, and cut it into cakes with the top of a wine glass. Currants or carraways may be added if agreeable. SHORT CAKES. Rub into a pound of dried flour, four ounces of butter, four ounces of powdered sugar, one egg, and a spoonful or two of thin cream to make it into a paste. When mixed, put currants into one half, and carraways into the rest. Cut them into little cakes with the top of a wine glass, or canister lid, and bake them a few minutes on floured tins. SHORT CRUST. Dry two ounces of white sugar; after it has been pounded and sifted. Mix it with a pound of flour well dried, and rub into it three ounces of butter, so fine as not to be seen. Put the yolks of two eggs well beaten into some cream, mix it with the above into a smooth paste, roll it out thin, and bake it in a moderate oven.--Another. Mix with a pound of fine flour dried, an ounce of sugar pounded and sifted. Crumble three ounces of butter into it, till it looks all like flour; and with a glass of boiling cream, work it up to a fine paste.--To make a richer crust, but not sweet, rub six ounces of butter into eight ounces of fine flour. Mix it into a stiffish paste, with as little water as possible; beat it well, and roll it thin. This, as well as the former, is proper for tarts of fresh or preserved fruit.--Another. To a pound of flour allow six ounces of butter, and a little salt. Rub the butter well into the flour with the hand, till the whole is well united, and then put in a small quantity of cold water, just enough to mix it to a paste. Mould it quite smooth with the hand, and roll it out for use. SHORT PASTE. Rub a quarter of a pound of butter into a pound of flour, mixed with water and two eggs. Work it up to a good stiffness, and roll it out. If for sweet tarts, two table-spoonfuls of sugar should be added. SHOULDER OF LAMB FORCED. Bone a shoulder of lamb, and fill it up with forcemeat; braise it two hours over a slow stove. Take it up and glaze it, or it may be glazed only, and not braised. Serve with sorrel sauce under the lamb. SHOULDER OF LAMB GRILLED. Roast a shoulder of lamb till about three parts done, score it both ways into squares about an inch large, rub it over with yolks of egg, season it with pepper and salt, and strew it over with bread crumbs and chopped parsley. Set it before the fire, brown it with a salamander, and serve it up with gravy, mushroom ketchup, lemon juice, and a piece of butter rolled in flour. Heat it over the fire till it is well thickened. SHOULDER OF MUTTON. If intended to be boiled with oysters, hang it up some days, and then salt it well for two days. Bone it, sprinkle it with pepper, and a little pounded mace. Lay some oysters over it, and roll the meat up tight and tie it. Stew it in a small quantity of water, with an onion and a few peppercorns, till it is quite tender. Prepare a little good gravy, and some oysters stewed in it; thicken this with flour and butter, and pour it over the mutton when the tape is taken off. The stewpan should be kept close covered. If the shoulder is to be roasted, serve it up with onion sauce. The blade-bone may be broiled. SHOULDER OF PORK. A shoulder or a breast of pork is best put into pickle. Salt the shoulder as a leg; and when very nice it may be roasted, instead of being boiled. SHOULDER OF VEAL. Cut off the knuckle for a stew or gravy, and roast the other part with stuffing. It may be larded, and served with melted butter. The blade-bone, with a good deal of meat left on it, eats extremely well with mushroom or oyster sauce, or with mushroom ketchup in butter. SHOULDER OF VENISON. The neck and shoulder are roasted the same as the haunch, and served with the same sauce. But if the shoulder is to be stewed, take out the bone, and beat the meat with a rolling-pin. Lay amongst it some slices of mutton fat, that have lain a few hours in a little port wine; sprinkle a little pepper and allspice over it in fine powder, roll and tie it up tight. Set it in a stewpan that will just hold it, with mutton or beef gravy, half a pint of port wine, with pepper and allspice. Simmer it close covered, and very slowly, for three or four hours. When quite tender, take off the tape, set the meat on a dish, and strain the gravy over it. Serve with currant-jelly sauce. This is the best way of dressing a shoulder of venison, unless it be very fat, and then it should be roasted. The bone should be stewed with it. SHREWSBURY CAKES. Sift one pound of sugar, some pounded cinnamon, and nutmeg grated, into three pounds of fine flour. Add a little rose water to three eggs well beaten, and mix with the flour; then pour into it as much melted butter as will make it a good thickness to roll out. Mould it well, roll it thin, and cut it into any shape you please. SHRIMP PIE. Pick a quart of shrimps; if they be very salt, season them only with mace and a clove or two. Mince two or three anchovies, mix them with the spice, and then season the shrimps. Put some butter at the bottom of the dish, and over the shrimps, with a glass of sharp white wine. The pie will not take long in baking, and the paste must be light and thin. SHRIMP SAUCE. If the shrimps be not ready picked pour over a little water to wash them. Put them to butter melted thick and smooth, give them one boil, and add the juice of a lemon. SHRUB. To a gallon of rum, put a quart of the juice of Seville oranges, and two pounds and a half of loaf sugar beaten fine, and then barrel it. Steep the rinds of half a dozen oranges in a little rum, the next day strain it into the vessel, and make it up ten gallons with water that has been boiled. Stir the liquor twice a day for a fortnight, or the shrub will be spoiled. SICK ROOMS. To purify sick rooms from noxious vapours, exhalations, and all kinds of infected air, put half an ounce of finely pulverized black oxide of manganese into a saucer, and pour upon it nearly an ounce of muriatic acid. Place the saucer on the floor of the infected apartment, leave it and shut the door, and the contagion will be completely destroyed. Muriatic acid with red oxide of lead will have a similar effect. Sulphur burnt for the same purpose, has the power of overcoming the effects of noxious vapours. Shallow vessels filled with lime water are of great use in absorbing carbonic acid gas, especially in workshops where charcoal is burnt. Newly prepared charcoal will absorb various kinds of noxious effluvia, and might be used with considerable advantage for the purification of privies, if small pieces of it are strewed upon the floor. Never venture into a sick room if you are in a violent perspiration (if circumstances require your continuance there for any time,) for the moment your body becomes cold, it is in a state likely to absorb the infection, and give you the disease. Nor visit a sick person, (especially if the complaint be of a contagious nature) with an empty stomach; as this disposes the system more readily to receive the contagion. In attending a sick person, place yourself where the air passes from the door or window to the bed of the diseased, not betwixt the diseased person and any fire that is in the room, as the heat of the fire will draw the infectious vapour in that direction, and you would run much danger from breathing in it. SILK DYES. Silk is usually dyed red with cochineal, or carthamus, and sometimes with Brazil wood. Archil is employed to give silk a bloom, but it is seldom used by itself, unless when the colour wanted is lilac. Silk may be dyed crimson, by steeping it in a solution of alum, and then dyeing it in the usual way in a cochineal bath. Poppy colour, cherry, rose, and flesh colour, are given to silk by means of carthamus. The process consists merely in keeping the silk as long as it extracts any colour, in an alkaline solution of carthamus, into which as much lemon juice has been poured, as is sufficient to give it a fine cherry red colour. Silk cannot be dyed a full scarlet; but a colour approaching to scarlet may be given to it, by first impregnating the stuff with murio-sulphate of tin, and afterwards dyeing it in equal parts of cochineal and quercitron bark. SILK STOCKINGS. To clean silk stockings properly, it is necessary first to wash them in a lukewarm liquor of white soap, then to rinse them in clean water, and wash them again as before. They are to be washed a third time in a stronger soap liquor, made hot and tinged with blueing, and rinsed in clean water. Before they are quite dry, they are to be stoved with brimstone, and afterwards polished with glass upon a wooden leg. Gauzes are whitened in the same manner, only a little gum is put in the soap liquor before they are stoved. SILKS CLEANED. The best method of cleaning silks, woollens, and cottons, without damage to their texture and colour, is to grate some raw potatoes to a fine pulp in clean water, and pass the liquid matter through a coarse sieve into another vessel of water. Let the mixture stand till the fine white particles of the potatoes are precipitated; then pour off the liquor, and preserve it for use. The article to be cleaned should then be laid upon a linen cloth on a table; and having provided a clean sponge, dip it into the potatoe liquor, and apply it to the article to be cleaned, till the dirt is made to disappear; then wash it in clean water several times. Two middle-sized potatoes will be sufficient for a pint of water. The coarse pulp, which does not pass through the sieve, is of great use in cleaning worsted curtains, tapestry, carpets, and other coarse articles. The mucilaginous liquor will clean all sorts of silk, cotton or woollen goods, without hurting or spoiling the colour. It may also be used in cleaning oil paintings, or furniture that is soiled. Dirtied painted wainscots may be cleaned by wetting a sponge in the liquor, then dipping it in a little fine clean sand, and afterwards rubbing the wainscot with it. SILVERING. For silvering glass globes, and such kind of articles, one part of mercury, and four of tin, are generally used. But if two parts of mercury, one of tin, one of lead, and one of bismuth, are melted together, the compound which they form will answer the purpose better. Either of them must be made in an iron ladle, over a clear fire, and be frequently stirred. The glass to be silvered must be very clean and dry. The alloy is poured in at the top, and shaken till the whole internal surface is covered. SILVERING OF IVORY. Prepare a diluted solution of nitrate of silver, and immerse in it an ivory paper knife. When the ivory has become yellow, in that part where it is in contact with the fluid, take it out and immerse it in an ale glass containing distilled water, placed in a window. In a short time, by exposure to the rays of the sun, it will become intensely black. Take it out of the water, wipe it dry, and rub it with a piece of leather. The silver will now appear on the ivory in a metallic state, and the knife will retain its silvery coat for a long time. SILVERING ON SILK. Paint flowers or figures of any kind on a white silk ribbon, with a camel hair pencil, dipped in a solution of nitrate of silver. Immerse this whilst wet in a jar of sulphurous acid gas, by burning sulphur under a jar of atmospheric air. The penciling will then assume a beautiful metallic brilliance. SINAPISMS. The sinapism is a poultice made of vinegar instead of milk, and rendered warm and stimulating by the addition of mustard, horseradish, or garlic. The common sinapism is made of equal quantities of bread crumbs and mustard, a sufficient quantity of strong vinegar, and mixing all together into a poultice. When a sinapism is required to be more stimulating, a little bruised garlic may be added. Sinapisms are employed to recal the blood and spirits to a weak part, as in the case of palsy; they are also of service in deep-seated pains, as in the case of sciatica. When the gout seizes the head or stomach, they are applied to the feet to bring the disorder down, and are likewise applied to the soles of the feet in a low state of fever. They should not be suffered to lie on till they have raised blisters, but till the parts become red, and will continue so when pressed with the finger. SIPPETS. When the stomach is too weak to receive meat, put on a very hot plate two or three sippets of bread, and pour over them some beef, mutton, or veal gravy. Flavour with a little salt. SIMPLE WATERS. The most expeditious method of distilling waters is to tie a piece of muslin or gauze, over a glazed earthen pot, whose mouth is just large enough to receive the bottom of a warming pan; on this lay your herb, clipped, whether mint, lavender, or whatever else you please; then place upon them the hot warming-pan, with live coals in it, to cause heat just enough to prevent burning, by which means, as the steam issuing out of the herb cannot mount upwards, by reason of the bottom of the pan just fitting the brim of the vessel below it, it must necessarily descend, and collect into water at the bottom of the receiver, and that strongly impregnated with the essential oil and salt of the vegetable thus distilled; which, if you want to make spirituous, or compound water of, is easily done, by simply adding some good spirits, or French brandy to it, which will keep good for a long time, and be much better than if the spirits had passed through a still, which must of necessity waste some of their strength. Care should be taken not to let the fire be too strong, lest it scorch the plants; and to be made of charcoal, for continuance and better regulation, which must be managed by lifting up and laying down the lid, as you want to increase or decrease the degrees of heat. The cooler the season, the deeper the earthen pan; and the less fire at first (afterwards to be gradually raised) in the greater perfection will the distilled water be obtained.--As the more moveable, or volatile parts of vegetables, are the aqueous, the oily, the gummy, the resinous, and the saline, these are to be expected in the waters of this process; the heat here employed being so great as to burst the vessels of the plants, some of which contain so large a quantity of oil, that it may be seen swimming on the surface of the water.--Medical waters thus procured will afford us nearly all the native virtues of vegetables, and give us a mixture of their several principles, whence they in a manner come up to the expressed juice, or extract gained therefrom: and if brandy be at the same time added to these distilled waters, so strong of oil and salt, a compound, or spirituous water, may be likewise procured, at a cheap and easy rate.--Although a small quantity only of distilled water can be obtained at a time by this confined operation, yet it compensates in strength what is deficient in quantity. Such liquors, if well corked up from the air, will keep good a long time, especially if about a twentieth part of any spirits be added, in order to preserve the same more effectually. SIZE FROM POTATOES. One of the beneficial uses of potatoes, not perhaps generally known, is, that the starch of them, quite fresh, and washed only once, may be employed to make size, which, mixed with chalk, and diluted in a little water, forms a very beautiful and good white for ceilings. This size has no smell, while animal size, which putrefies so readily, always exhales a very disagreeable odour. That of potatoes, as it is very little subject to putrefaction, appears, from experience, to be more durable in tenacity and whiteness; and, for white-washing, should be preferred to animal size, the decomposition of which is always accompanied with unhealthy exhalations. SKATE. In the purchase of this article, observe that it be very white and thick. It requires to be hung up one day at least before it is dressed; if too fresh, it eats tough. Skate may either be boiled, or fried in crumbs, being first dipped in egg. Crimp skate should be boiled and sent up in a napkin, or it may be fried as above. SKATE SOUP. This is made of the stock fish for soup, with an ounce of vermicelli boiled in it, a little before it is served. Then add half a pint of cream, beaten with the yolks of two eggs. Stir it by the side of the fire, but not on it. Serve it up with a small French roll warmed in a Dutch oven, and then soaked an hour in the soup. SKIRRETS. Hamburgh parsley, scorzonera, and skirrets, are much esteemed for their roots, the only part which is eaten. They should be boiled like young carrots, and they will eat very well with meat, or alone, or in soups. The shoots of salsify in the spring, from the roots of a year old, gathered green and tender, will eat very nice, if boiled in the same manner as asparagus. SLATE, a well-known, neat, convenient, and durable material, for the covering of the roofs of buildings. There are great varieties of this substance; and it likewise differs very greatly in its qualities and colours. In some places it is found in thick laminæ, or flakes; while in others it is thin and light. The colours are white, brown, and blue. It is so durable, in some cases, as to have been known to continue sound and good for centuries. However, unless it should be brought from a quarry of well reputed goodness, it is necessary to try its properties, which may be done by striking the slate sharply against a large stone, and if it produce a complete sound, it is a mark of goodness; but if in hewing it does not shatter before the edge of the _sect_, or instrument commonly used for that purpose, the criterion is decisive. The goodness of slate may be farther estimated by its colour: the deep black hue is apt to imbibe moisture, but the lighter is always the least penetrable: the touch also may be in some degree a guide, for a good firm stone feels somewhat hard and rough, whereas an open slate feels very smooth, and as it were, greasy. And another method of trying the goodness of slate, is to place the slate-stone lengthwise and perpendicularly in a tub of water, about half a foot deep, care being taken that the upper or unimmersed part of the slate be not accidentally wetted by the hand, or otherwise; let it remain in this state twenty-four hours; if good and firm stone, it will not draw water more than half an inch above the surface of the water, and that perhaps at the edges only, those parts having been a little loosened in the hewing; but a spongy defective stone will draw water to the very top. There is still another mode, held to be infallible. First, weigh two or three of the most suspected slates, noting the weight; then immerge them in a vessel of water twelve hours; take them out, and wipe them as clean as possible with a linen cloth; and if they weigh more than at first, it denotes that quality of slate which imbibes water: a drachm is allowable in a dozen pounds, and no more. It may be noticed, that in laying of this material, a bushel and a half of lime, and three bushels of fresh-water sand, will be sufficient for a square of work; but if it be pin plastered, it will take above as much more: but good slate, well laid and plastered to the pin, will lie an hundred years; and on good timber a much longer time. It has been common to lay the slates dry, or on moss only, but they are much better when laid with plaster. When they are to be plastered to the pin, then about the first quantity of lime and sand will be sufficient for the purpose, when well mixed and blended together, by properly working them. Slates differ very much in thickness as well as colour, which suits them for different situations and purposes. A great deal of good slate of various kinds is raised in different parts of Wales, and much excellent blue and other coloured sorts is procured from the northern parts of Lancashire, and other neighbouring places, as well as from different other counties throughout the kingdom. In some parts the slate is distributed into three kinds, as the best, the middling, and the waste or common sort. SLEEP. 'Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep,' is indispensible to the continuance of health and life; and the night is appropriated for the recovery of that strength which is expended on the various exercises of the day. But sleep, as well as diet and exercise, ought to be duly regulated; for too little of it, as well as too much, is alike injurious. A medium ought therefore to be observed, though the real proportion cannot be ascertained by any given time, as one person will be more refreshed by five or six hours sleep, than another by eight or ten. Children may be allowed to take as much as they please; but for adults, six hours is generally sufficient, and no one ought to exceed eight. To make sleep refreshing, it is necessary to take sufficient exercise in the open air. Too much exertion will prevent sleep, as well as too little; yet we seldom hear the active and laborious complain of restless nights, for they generally enjoy the luxury of undisturbed repose. Refreshing sleep is often prevented by the use of strong tea, or heavy suppers; and the stomach being loaded, occasions frightful dreams, and broken and interrupted rest. It is also necessary to guard against anxiety and corroding grief: many by indulging these, have banished sleep so long that they could never afterwards enjoy it. Sleep taken in the forepart of the night is most refreshing, and nothing more effectually undermines and ruins the constitution than night watching. How quickly the want of rest in due season will destroy the most blooming complexion, or best state of health, may be seen in the ghastly countenances of those who turn the day into night, and the night into day. SLICED CUCUMBERS. Cut some cucumbers into thick slices, drain them in a cullender, and add some sliced onions. Use some strong vinegar, and pickle them in the same manner as gherkins and French beans. SLICES OF BEEF. To prepare red beef for slices, cut off a piece of thin flank, and remove the skin. Rub the beef well with a mixture made of two pounds of common salt, two ounces of bay salt, two ounces of saltpetre, and half a pound of moist sugar, pounded together in a marble mortar. Put it into an earthen pan, and turn and rub it daily for a week. Then take it out of the brine and wipe it, strew over it pounded mace, cloves, pepper, a little allspice, plenty of chopped parsley, and a few shalots. Roll it up, bind it round with tape, boil it quite tender, and press it. When cold cut it into slices, and garnish it with pickled barberries, fresh parsley, or any other approved article. SLICES OF COD. To boil slices of codfish, put plenty of salt into some spring water. Boil it up quick, and then put in the fish. Keep it boiling, and skim it very clean. It will be done sufficiently in eight or ten minutes. Some small pieces may be fried and served round it. Oyster, shrimp, or anchovy sauce, should be served with it. SLICES OF HAM. Bacon or ham may be fried, broiled on a gridiron over a clear fire, or toasted with a fork. The slices should be of the same thickness in every part. To have it curled, the slices should be cut about two inches long, then rolled up, and a little wooden skewer passed through them. Put them into a cheese toaster or Dutch oven, for eight or ten minutes, turning the slices as they crisp. This is considered the handsomest way of dressing rashers of bacon, but it is best uncurled, because it is crisper, and more equally done. Slices of ham or bacon should not be more than half a quarter of an inch thick, and will eat much more mellow if soaked in hot water for a quarter of an hour, and then dried in a cloth, before they are toasted. SLICES OF SALMON. When washed, wipe the salmon quite dry. Rub the slices over with a soft brush dipped in sweet oil, season with pepper and salt, fold them neatly in clean white paper, and broil them over a clear fire. SLIGHT WOUNDS. When fresh wounds bleed much, lint dipped in vinegar or spirits of turpentine, may be pressed upon the surface for a few minutes, and retained by a moderately tight bandage; but if the blood spirts out violently, it shows that an artery is wounded, and it must be held very firmly till a surgeon arrives. But when the blood seems to flow equally from every part of the wound, and there is no reason therefore to suppose that any considerable vessel is wounded, it may be permitted to bleed while the dressings are preparing. The edges of the wound are then to be gently pressed together, and retained by straps of sticking plaster. These may remain on for three or four days, unless the sore becomes painful, or the matter smells offensive, in which case the straps of plaster must be taken off, the parts washed clean with warm water, and fresh slips of plaster applied, nicely adjusted to keep the wound closed. The slips must be laid over the wound crossways, and reach several inches beyond each side of it, in order to hold the parts firmly together. By keeping the limb or part very still, abstaining from strong liquors, taking only light mild food, and keeping the bowels open, all simple wounds may easily be healed in this manner. But poultices, greasy salves, or filling the wound with lint, will have an opposite effect. Even ragged or torn wounds may be drawn together and healed by sticking plaster, without any other salves or medicines. A broken shin, or slight ruffling of the skin, may be covered with lint dipped in equal parts of vinegar and brandy, and left to stick on, unless the place inflames; and then weak goulard is the best remedy. Common cuts may be kept together by sticking plaster, or with only a piece of fine linen rag, or thread bound round them. The rag applied next to a cut or wound of any kind, should always be of white linen; but calico, or coloured rags, will do quite as well for outward bandages. Important wounds should always be committed to the care of a skilful surgeon. SLUGS. These reptiles do great damage in fields and gardens, especially to crops of lettuces, cabbages, or turnips. Their track is perceived by the shining and slimy substance which they leave behind them. There are several kinds of these little animals. The white and brown leathery kind often even destroy the strong stems of young cabbage, and other similar plants. The destruction of them has been suggested to be effected by the use of tar-water, sprinkled over the ground; and also by having recourse to lime, in the preparation of the land for such crops. They conceal themselves in the holes and crevices, only making their appearance early in mornings and late in the evenings. The white slug or snail is likewise very destructive to young turnip crops, by rising out of the holes of the soils, on wet and dewy mornings and evenings. Rolling the ground with a heavy implement, before the sun rises, has been advised as a means of destroying them in these cases. Slugs of this sort are likewise very destructive, in some districts, to the roots of corn crops, during the day-time, in the early spring months, while they lie concealed in the ground, by eating and devouring them; and by coming out in the evenings, and during the night-time, to commit ravages on the blades, and other parts above the ground. Numbers of them are sometimes met with upon the same plant, and they may easily be extirpated and removed from the land by the above practice, while they are at work, especially in moon-light seasons, and any further injury to the crops be guarded against. Warm moist weather is always a great encouragement to their coming out of their hiding-places; and advantage should constantly be taken of it for their extermination, as they suddenly retire under ground during the time of cold. The strong lands of other places are occasionally much infested with them in the pea, bean, and rye crops and stubbles, as well as clover roots, when a wheat crop is put in upon them. The slugs, in some cases, are of about half an inch in length, having their backs of a blueish cast in the skin part, and their under parts wholly of a white appearance. A mixture of sulphur and lime, made so as to be conveniently applied, has been found to be highly destructive of them in general.--The use of lime-water has lately been advised as an excellent and cheap mode of destroying slugs in gardens, as well as fields, in the second volume of the Transactions of the Horticultural Society of London. It is found to be far preferable, in this intention, to quicklime, which is liable to become too soon saturated with moisture, and rendered ineffectual. The manner of employing the water is after it has been newly made from stone lime, by means of hot water poured upon it, to pour it through the fine rose of a watering-pot over the slugs, which have been collected by means of pea-haulm, or some other similar substance, laid down on the ground in portions, at the distance of about a pole from each other. In proper weather, the slugs soon collect in this way, in great numbers, for shelter as well as to get food. When a boy takes up the substance, and by a gentle shake leaves the whole of the slugs on the ground, another person then pours a small quantity of lime-water on them, and the boy removes the haulmy material to some intermediate place, in order that the same practice may be repeated. By persevering in this method for a little while, the whole of the slugs may be destroyed, as the least drop of the water speedily kills them. This practice, it is supposed, will be found highly beneficial in the flower-garden, as by watering the edgings of box, thrift, or other kinds, the slugs will be killed with certainty, even when the weather is moist. The application is considered simple, the effect certain, and the expence trifling, whether in the garden or the field; a few pots only being required, in the latter case, to the acre, which can be made with a very small quantity of lime. And the labour is not of any material consequence, so that the whole charge will not, it is imagined, exceed five shillings the acre.--To prevent slugs from getting into fruit trees. If the trees are standards, tie a coarse horse-hair rope about them, two or three feet from the ground. If they are against the wall, nail a narrow slip of coarse horse-hair cloth against the wall, about half a foot from the ground, and they will never get over it, for if they attempt it, it will kill them, as their bellies are soft, and the horse-hair will wound them. SMALL COAL. There is generally a great waste in the article of coal, owing to the quantity of dust found amongst it; but this if wetted makes the strongest fire for the back of the grate, where it should remain untouched till it is formed into a cake. Cinders lightly wetted give a great degree of heat, and are better than coal for furnaces, ironing stoves, and ovens. They should be carefully preserved and sifted in a covered tin bucket, which prevents the dispersion of the dust. SMALL POX. Previous to the appearance of the eruption, the patient should be kept in a cool dry apartment, and abstain from all animal food, cheese, and pastry. The diet should consist of cooling vegetables, ripe fruit, pearl barley, and sago. The drink may be barley water, with a few drops of vinegar or cream of tartar, or lukewarm milk and water; but neither beer nor wine must be allowed. In case of an obstruction of the bowels, mild laxatives or clysters may be given; and if the throat be affected, it should be gargled with vinegar and water. Warm fomentations should be applied to the neck, and mustard poultices to the feet. After the eruption has made its appearance, the recovery of the patient may be chiefly entrusted to nature, while proper attention is paid to diet and regimen. But if the pustules begin to disappear, blisters ought to be immediately applied to the calves of the legs, and parsley-root boiled in milk should frequently be eaten, in order to encourage the eruption. When the pustules suddenly sink in, it denotes danger, and medical assistance should speedily be procured. In case of inoculation, which introduces the disease in a milder form, and has been the means of saving the lives of many thousands, a similar mode of treatment is required. For about a week or ten days previous to inoculation, the patient should adhere to a regular diet; avoiding all animal food, seasoned dishes, wine and spirits, and should live sparingly on fruit pies, puddings, and vegetables. The same regimen must be observed as in the former instance, during the progress of the disease, and then, but little medicine will be required. SMALL RICE PUDDINGS. Wash two large spoonfuls of rice, and simmer it with half a pint of milk till it is thick. Put in a piece of butter the size of an egg, and nearly half a pint of thick cream, and give it one boil. When cold, mix four yolks and two whites of eggs well beaten, sugar and nutmeg to taste. Add grated lemon, and a little cinnamon. Butter some small cups, and fill them three parts full, putting at bottom some orange or citron. Bake them three quarters of an hour in a slowish oven. Serve them up the moment they are to be eaten, with sweet sauce in the dish, or in a boat. SMELL OF PAINT. When a room is newly painted, place three or four tubs full of water near the wainscot, and renew the water daily. In two or three days it will absorb all the offensive effluvia arising from the paint, and render the room wholesome. The smell of paint may also be prevented, by dissolving some frankincense in spirits of turpentine over a slow fire, and mixing it with the paint before it be laid on. SMELLING BOTTLE. Reduce to powder an equal quantity of sal-ammoniac and quicklime separately, put two or three drops of the essence of bergamot into a small bottle, then add the other ingredients, and cork it close. A drop or two of æther will improve it. SMELTS. This delicate fish is caught in the Thames, and some other large rivers. When good and in season, they have a fine silvery hue, are very firm, and have a refreshing smell like cucumbers newly cut. They should not be washed more than is necessary merely to clean them. Dry them in a cloth, lightly flour them, and shake it off. Dip them in plenty of eggs, then into bread crumbs grated fine, and plunge them into a good pan of boiling lard. Let them continue gently boiling, and a few minutes will make them a bright yellow-brown. Take care not to take off the light roughness of the crumbs, or their beauty will be lost. SMOKED HERRINGS. Clean and lay them in salt one night, with saltpetre; then hang them on a stick, through the eyes, in a row. Have ready an old cask, in which put some saw-dust, and in the midst of it a heater red-hot. Fix the stick over the smoke, and let them remain twenty-four hours. SMOKY CHIMNIES. The plague of a smoking chimney is proverbial, and has engaged considerable attention from observers of various descriptions. Smoky chimnies in a new house, are such, frequently, for want of air. The workmanship of the rooms being all good and just out of the workman's hands, the joints of the flooring and of the pannels of the wainscoting are all true and tight; the more so as the walls, perhaps not yet thoroughly dry, preserve a dampness in the air of the room which keeps the woodwork swelled and close: the doors and the sashes too being worked with truth, shut with exactness, so that the room is perfectly tight, no passage being left open for the air to enter except the key-hole, and even that is frequently closed by a little dropping shutter. In this case it is evident that there can be no regular current through the flue of the chimney, as any air escaping from its aperture would cause an exhaustion in the air of the room similar to that in the receiver of an air-pump, and therefore an equal quantity of air would rush down the flue to restore the equilibrium; accordingly the smoke, if it ever ascended to the top, would be beat down again into the room. Those, therefore, who stop every crevice in a room to prevent the admission of fresh air, and yet would have their chimney carry up the smoke, require inconsistencies and expect impossibilities. The obvious remedy in this case is, to admit more air, and the question will be how and where this necessary quantity of air from without is to be admitted, so as to produce the least inconvenience; for if the door or window be left so much open, it causes a cold draft of air to the fire-place, to the great discomfort of those who sit there. Various have been the contrivances to avoid this, such as bringing in fresh air through pipes in the jambs of the chimney, which, pointing upwards, should blow the smoke up the funnel; opening passages in the funnel above to let in air for the same purpose; but these produce an effect contrary to that intended, for as it is the constant current of air passing from the room through the opening of the chimney into the flue, which prevents the smoke coming out into the room, if the funnel is supplied by other means with the air it wants, and especially if that air be cold, the force of that current is diminished, and the smoke in its efforts to enter the room finds less resistance. The wanted air must then indispensably be admitted into the room to supply what goes off through the opening of the chimney, and it is advisable to make the aperture for this purpose as near the ceiling as possible, because the heated air will naturally ascend and occupy the highest part of the room, thus causing a great difference of climate at different heights, a defect which will be in some measure obviated by the admission of cold air near the ceiling, which descending, will beat down and mingle the air more effectually. Another cause of smoky chimnies is too short a funnel, as, in this case, the ascending current will not always have sufficient power to direct the smoke up the flue. This defect is frequently found in low buildings, or the upper stories of high ones, and is unavoidable, for if the flue be raised high above the roof to strengthen its draft, it is then in danger of being blown down and crushing the roof in its fall. The remedy in this case is to contract the opening of the chimney so as to oblige all the entering air to pass through or very near the fire, by which means it will be considerably heated, and by its great rarefaction, cause a powerful draft, and compensate for the shortness of its column. The case of too short a funnel is more general than would be imagined, and often found where one would not expect it; for it is not uncommon in ill-contrived buildings, instead of having a separate funnel for each fire-place, to bend and turn the funnel of an upper room so as to make it enter the side of another flue that comes from below. By this means the funnel of the upper room is made short, of course, since its length can only be reckoned from the place where it enters the lower funnel, and that flue is also shortened by all the distance between the entrance of the second funnel and the top of the stack; for all that part being readily supplied with air through the second flue, adds no strength to the draft, especially as that air is cold when there is no fire in the second chimney. The only easy remedy here, is to keep the opening shut of that flue in which there is no fire. Another very common cause of the smoking of chimnies is, their overpowering one another. For instance, if there be two chimnies in one large room, and you make fires in both of them, you will find that the greater and stronger fire shall overpower the weaker, and draw air down its funnel to supply its own demand, which air descending in the weaker funnel will drive down its smoke, and force it into the room. If, instead of being in one room, the two chimnies are in two different rooms communicating by a door, the case is the same whenever that door is open. The remedy is, to take care that every room have the means of supplying itself from without, with the air its chimney may require, so that no one of them may be obliged to borrow from another, nor under the necessity of lending. Another cause of smoking is, when the tops of chimnies are commanded by higher buildings, or by a hill, so that the wind blowing over such eminences falls like water over a dam, sometimes almost perpendicularly on the tops of the chimnies that lie in its way, and beats down the smoke contained in them. The remedy commonly applied in this case is, a turn-cap, made of tin or plate-iron, covering the chimney above, and on three sides, open on one side, turning on a spindle, and which being guided or governed by a vane, always presents its back to the wind. This method will generally be found effectual, but if not, raising the flues, where practicable, so as their tops may be on a level with or higher than the commanding eminence, is more to be depended on. There is another case of command, the reverse of that last mentioned; it is where the commanding eminence is farther from the wind than the chimney commanded. For instance, suppose the chimney of a building to be so situated as that its top is below the level of the ridge of the roof, which, when the wind blows against it, forms a kind of dam against its progress. In this case, the wind being obstructed by this dam, will, like water, press and search for passages through it, and finding the top of the chimney below the top of the dam, it will force itself down that funnel in order to get through by some door or window open on the other side of the building, and if there be a fire in such chimney, its smoke is of course beat down and fills the room. The only remedy for this inconvenience is, to raise the funnel higher than the roof, supporting it, if necessary, by iron bars; for a turn-cap in this case has no effect, the dammed up air pressing down through it in whatever position the wind may have placed its opening. Chimnies otherwise drawing well are sometimes made to smoke by the improper and inconvenient situation of a door. When the door and chimney are placed on the same side of a room, if the door is made to open from the chimney, it follows, that when only partly opened, a current of air is admitted and directed across the opening of the chimney, which is apt to draw out some of the smoke. Chimnies which generally draw well, do, nevertheless, sometimes give smoke into the room, it being driven down by strong winds passing over the tops of their flues, though not descending from any commanding eminence. To understand this, it may be considered that the rising light air, to obtain a free issue from the funnel, must push out of its way, or oblige the air that is over it to rise. In a time of calm, or of little wind, this is done visibly; for we see the smoke that is brought up by that air rise in a column above the chimney. But when a violent current of wind passes over the top of a chimney, its particles have received so much force, which keeps them in a horizontal direction, and follow each other so rapidly, that the rising light air has not strength sufficient to oblige them to quit that direction, and move upwards to permit its issue. Add to this, that some of the air may impinge on that part of the inside of the funnel which is opposed to its progress, and be thence reflected downwards from side to side, driving the smoke before it into the room. The simplest and best remedy in this case is the application of a chimney-pot, which is a hollow truncated cone of earthenware placed upon the top of the flue. The intention of this contrivance is, that the wind and eddies which strike against the oblique surface of these covers may be reflected upwards instead of blowing down the chimney. The bad construction of _fire-places_ is another cause of smoking chimneys; and this case will lead us to the consideration of the methods of increasing the heat and diminishing the consumption of fuel; for it will be found that the improvements necessary to produce the last-mentioned end will also have a general tendency to cure smoky chimnies. On this subject the meritorious labours of Count Rumford are conspicuous, and we shall proceed to give an abridged account of his method. In investigating the best form of a fire-place, it will be necessary to consider, first, what are the objects which ought principally to be had in view in the construction of a fire-place; and, secondly, to consider how these objects can best be attained. Now the design of a chimney-fire being simply to warm a room, it is essential to contrive so that this end shall be actually attained, and with the least possible expence of fuel, and also that the air of the room be preserved perfectly pure and fit for respiration, and free from smoke and all disagreeable smells. To cause as many as possible of the rays, as they are sent off from the fire in straight lines, to come directly into the room, it will be necessary, in the first place, to bring the fire as far forward, and to leave the opening of the fire-place as wide and high as can be done without inconvenience; and secondly, to make the sides and back of the fire-place of such form, and of such materials, as to cause the direct rays from the fire which strike against them, to be sent into the room by reflection in the greatest abundance. Now, it will be found, upon examination, that the best form for the vertical sides of a fire-place, or the _covings_, as they are called, is that of an upright plane, making an angle with the plane of the back of the fire-place of about 135 degrees. According to the old construction of chimnies, this angle is 90 degrees, or forms a right angle; but, as in this case the two covings are parallel to each other, it is evident that they are very ill contrived for throwing into the room, by reflection, the rays from the fire which fall on them. The next improvement will be to reduce the throat of the chimney, the immoderate size of which is a most essential fault in their construction; for, however good the formation of a fire-place may be in other respects, if the opening left for the passage of the smoke is larger than is necessary for that purpose, nothing can prevent the warm air of the room from escaping through it; and whenever this happens, there is not only an unnecessary loss of heat, but the warm air, which leaves the room to go up the chimney, being replaced by cold air from without, produces those drafts of air so often complained of. But though these evils may be remedied, by reducing the throat of the chimney to a proper size, yet, in doing this, several considerations will be necessary to determine its proper situation. As the smoke and hot vapour which rise from a fire naturally tend upwards, it is evident that it will be proper to place the throat of the chimney perpendicularly over the fire; but to ascertain its most advantageous distance, or how far above the burning fuel it ought to be placed, is not so easy, and requires several advantages and disadvantages to be balanced. As the smoke and vapour rise in consequence of their being rarefied by heat, and made lighter than the air of the surrounding atmosphere, and as the degree of their rarefraction is in proportion to the intensity of their heat, and as this heat is greater near the fire than at a distance from it, it is clear, that the nearer the throat of a chimney is to the fire, the stronger will be what is commonly called its draught, and the less danger there will be of its smoking, or of dust coming into the room when the fire is stirred. But, on the other hand, when a very strong draught is occasioned by the throat of the chimney being very near the fire, it may happen that the influx of air into the fire may become so strong as to cause the fuel to be consumed too rapidly. This however will very seldom be found to be the case, for the throats of chimnies are in general too high. In regard to the materials which it will be most advantageous to employ in the construction of fire-places, little difficulty will attend the determination of that point. As the object in view is to bring radiant heat into the room, it is clear that that material is best for the construction of a fire-place which reflects the most, or which absorbs the least of it, for that heat which is absorbed cannot be reflected. Now, as bodies which absorb radiant heat are necessarily heated in consequence of that absorption; to discover which of the various materials that can be employed for constructing fire-places are best adapted for that purpose, we have only to find, by an experiment very easy to be made, what bodies acquire least heat, when exposed to the direct rays of a clear fire; for those which are least heated evidently absorb the least, and consequently reflect the most radiant heat. And hence it appears that iron, and in general metals of all kinds, which are well known to grow very hot when exposed to the rays projected by burning fuel, are to be reckoned among the very worst materials that it is possible to employ in the construction of fire-places. Perhaps the best materials are fire-stone and common bricks and mortar. These substances are fortunately very cheap, and it is not easy to say to which of the two the preference ought to be given. When bricks are used, they should be covered with a thin coating of plaster, which, when perfectly dry, should be white-washed. The fire-stone should likewise be white-washed, when that is used; and every part of the fire-place which does not come into actual contact with the burning fuel should be kept as white and clean as possible. The bringing forward of the fire into the room, or rather bringing it nearer to the front of the opening of the fire-place, and the diminishing of the throat of the chimney, being two objects principally had in view in the alterations of fire-places recommended, it is evident that both these may be attained merely by bringing forward the back of the chimney. It will then remain to be determined how far the back should be brought forward. This point will be limited by the necessity of leaving a proper passage for the smoke. Now, as this passage, which in its narrowest part is called the throat of the chimney, ought, for reasons before stated, to be immediately or perpendicularly over the fire, it is evident that the back of the chimney should be built perfectly upright. To determine therefore the place of the new back, nothing more is necessary than to ascertain how wide the throat of the chimney ought to be left. This width is determined by Count Rumford from numerous experiments, and comparing all circumstances, to be four inches. Therefore, supposing the breast of the chimney, or the wall above the mantle, to be nine inches thick, allowing four inches for the width of the throat, this will give thirteen inches for the depth of the fire-place. The next consideration will be the width which it will be proper to give to the back. This, in fire-places of the old construction, is the same with the width of the opening in front; but this construction is faulty, on two accounts; first, because the covings being parallel to each other, are ill contrived to throw out into the room the heat they receive from the fire in the form of rays; and, secondly, the large open corners occasion eddies of wind which frequently disturb the fire and embarrass the smoke in its ascent, in such a manner as to bring it into the room. Both these defects may be entirely remedied, by diminishing the width of the back of the fire-place. The width which in most cases it will be best to give it, is one-third of the width of the opening of the fire-place in front. But it is not absolutely necessary to conform rigorously to this decision, nor will it always be possible. Where a chimney is designed for warming a room of moderate size, the depth of the fire-place being determined by the thickness of the breast to thirteen inches, the same dimensions would be a good size for the width of the back, and three times thirteen inches, or three feet three inches, for the width of the opening in front, and the angles made by the back of the fire-place, and the sides of it, or covings, would be just 135 degrees, which is the best position they can have for throwing heat into the room. In determining the width of this opening in front, the chimney is supposed to be perfectly good, and well situated. If there is any reason to apprehend its ever smoking, it will be necessary to reduce the opening in front, placing the covings at a less angle than 135 degrees, and especially to diminish the height of the opening by lowering the mantle. If from any consideration, such as the wish to accommodate the fire-place to a grate or stove already on hand, it should be wished to make the back wider than the dimension recommended, as for instance, sixteen inches; it will be advisable not to exceed the width of three feet three inches for the opening in front, as in a very wide and shallow fire-place, any sudden motion of the air in front would be apt to bring out puffs of smoke into the room. The throat of the chimney being reduced to four inches, it will be necessary to make a provision for the passage of a chimney sweeper. This is to be done in the following manner. In building up the new back of the fire-place, when this wall is brought up so high that there remains no more than about ten or eleven inches between what is then the top of it and the underside of the mantle, an opening or door-way, eleven or twelve inches wide, must be begun in the middle of the back, and continued quite to the top of it, which according to the height that it will commonly be necessary to carry up the back, will make the opening twelve or fourteen inches high, which will be quite sufficient for the purpose. When the fire-place is finished, this door-way is to be closed by a few bricks laid without mortar, or a tile or piece of stone confined in its place by means of a rebate made for that purpose in the brick-work. As often as the chimney is swept, the chimney sweeper removes this temporary wall or stone, which is very easily done, and when he has finished his work, he again puts it in its place. The new back and covings may be built either of brick-work or of stone, and the space between them and the old back and covings, ought to be filled up to give greater solidity to the structure. This may be done with loose rubbish or pieces of broken bricks or stones, provided the work be strengthened by a few layers or courses of bricks laid in mortar; but it will be indispensably necessary to finish the work where these new walls end, that is to say, at the top of the throat of the chimney, where it ends abruptly in the open canal or flue, by a horizontal course of bricks well secured with mortar. It is of much importance that they should terminate in this manner; for were they to be sloped outward and raised in such a manner as to swell out the upper extremity of the throat of the chimney in the form of a trumpet, and increase it by degrees to the size of the flue of the chimney, this construction would tend to assist the winds which may attempt to blow down the chimney, in forcing their way through the throat, and throwing the smoke backward into the room. The internal form of the breast of the chimney is also a matter of great importance, and which ought to be particularly attended to. The worst form it can have is that of a vertical plane or upright flat, and next to this the worst form is an inclined plane. Both these forms cause the current of warm air from the room which will, in spite of every precaution, sometimes find its way into the chimney, to cross upon the current of smoke which rises from the fire in a manner most likely to embarrass it in its ascent and drive it back. The current of air which, passing under the mantle, gets into the chimney, should be made gradually to bend its course upwards, by which means it will unite quietly with the ascending current of smoke, and will be less likely to check and impede its progress. This is to be effected by rounding off the inside of the breast of the chimney, which may be done by a thick coating of plaster. When the breast or wall of the chimney in front is very thin, it may happen, that the depth of the fire-place determined according to the preceding rules may be too small. Thus supposing the breast to be only four inches thick, which is sometimes the case, particularly in rooms situated near the top of a house, taking four inches for the width of the throat, will give only eight inches for the depth of the fire-place. In this case, it would be proper to increase the depth of the fire-place at the hearth to twelve or thirteen inches, and to build up the back perpendicularly to the height of the top of the grate, and then sloping the back by a gentle inclination forward, bring it to its proper place directly under the back part of the throat of the chimney. This slope, though it ought not to be too abrupt, yet should be quite finished at the height of eight or ten inches above the fire, otherwise it may perhaps cause the chimney to smoke; but when it is very near the fire, its heat will enable the current of rising smoke to overcome the obstacle which this slope will oppose to its ascent, which it could not so easily do, were the slope situated at a greater distance from the burning fuel. There is one important circumstance respecting chimney fire-places designed for burning coals which remains to be examined, and that is the grate. Although there are few grates that may not be used in chimnies, altered or constructed on the principles recommended by Count Rumford, yet they are not by any means all equally well adapted for that purpose. Those whose construction is most simple, and which of course are the cheapest, are beyond comparison the best on all accounts. Nothing being wanted but merely a grate to contain the coals, and all additional apparatus being not only useless but pernicious; all complicated and expensive grates should be laid aside, and such as are more simple substituted in their room. The proper width for grates in rooms of a middling size, will be from six to eight inches, and their length may be diminished more or less according to the difficulty of heating the room, or the severity of the weather. But where the width of a grate is not more than five inches, it will be very difficult to prevent the fire from going out. It has been before observed that the use of metals is as much as possible to be avoided in the construction of fire-places, it will therefore be proper always to line the back and sides of a grate with fire stone, which will cause the fire to burn better and give more heat into the room. SNAILS. These are a species of slugs covered with shell, and which are very destructive to wall fruit. To prevent their ascending the standard trees, tie a coarse horse-hair rope about them, two or three feet from the ground; and to secure the wall trees, nail a narrow slip of horse-hair cloth against the wall, about half an inch from the ground, underneath the branches of the tree. In the winter time the snails may be found in the holes of walls, under thorns, behind old trees or close hedges, and might be taken and destroyed. When they attack vegetables, a few sliced turnips laid on the borders will attract them in the evening, when they may easily be gathered up. Lime and ashes strewed on the ground, will also prevent their depredations. SNIPES. These birds will keep several days, and should be roasted without drawing, and then served on toast. Butter only should be eaten with them, as gravy takes off from the fine flavour. The thigh and back are most esteemed. SNIPES IN RAGOUT. Slit them down the backs, but do not take out the insides; toss them up with a little melted bacon fat, seasoned with pepper and salt, and a little mushroom ketchup; when they are enough, squeeze in a little juice of lemon, and serve them up. SNIPES IN SURTOUT. Half roast your snipes, and save the trail; then make a forcemeat with veal, and as much beef suet chopped, and beat in a mortar; add an equal quantity of bread crumbs: season it with beaten mace, pepper, salt, parsley, and sweet herbs shred fine; mix all together, and moisten it with the yolks of eggs: lay a rim of this forcemeat round the dish, then put in your snipes. Take strong gravy, according to your dish, with morels and truffles, a few mushrooms, a sweetbread cut in pieces, and an artichoke bottom cut small: let all stew together, then beat up the yolks of two or three eggs with a little white wine; pour this into your gravy, and keep it stirring till it is of a proper thickness, then let it stand to cool; work up the remainder of your forcemeat, and roll it out as you do paste; pour your sauce over the birds, and lay on your forcemeat; close the edges, and wash it over with the yolks of eggs, and strew bread crumbs over that; send it to the oven about half an hour, and then to table as hot as you can. SNOW BALLS. Swell some rice in milk, and strain it off. Having pared and cored some apples, put the rice round them, and tie up each in a cloth. Add to each a bit of lemon peel, a clove, or cinnamon, and boil them well. SNOW CREAM. Put to a quart of cream the whites of three eggs well beaten, four spoonfuls of sweet wine, sugar to sweeten, and a bit of lemon peel. Whip it to a froth, remove the peel, and serve the cream in a dish. SOLDERING. Put into a crucible two ounces of lead, and when it is melted, throw in an ounce of tin. This alloy is that generally known by the name of solder. When heated by a hot iron, and applied to tinned iron, with powdered rosin, it acts as a cement or solder. It is also used to join leaden pipes, and other articles. SOLES. A fine thick sole is almost as good eating as turbot, and may be boiled in the same way. Wash the fish and clean it nicely, put it into a fish-kettle with a handful of salt, and as much cold water as will cover it. Set it on the side of the fire, take off the scum as it rises, and let it boil gently about five minutes, or longer if it be very large. Send it up on a fish-drainer, garnished with slices of lemon and sprigs of curled parsley, or nicely fried smelts, or oysters. Slices of lemon for garnish are universally approved, either with fried or boiled fish. Parsley and butter, or fennel and butter, make an excellent sauce; chervil sauce, or anchovies, are also approved. Boiled soles are very good warmed up like eels, or covered with white wine sauce. When soles are very large, the best way is to take off the fillets, trim them neatly, and press them dry in a soft cloth. Egg them over, strew on fine bread crumbs, and fry them. Or skin and wash a pair of large soles very clean, dry them in a cloth, wash them with the yolk of an egg on both sides, and strew over them a little flour, and a few bread crumbs; fry them of a fine gold colour, in Florence oil, enough to cover them; when done, drain them, and lay them into an earthen dish that will hold them at length, and set them by to cool; then make the marinate with a pint of the best vinegar, half a pint of sherry, some salt, pepper, nutmeg, two cloves, and a blade of mace; boil all together for about ten minutes, then pour it over the fish hot, the next day they will be fit for use. When you dish them up, put some of the liquor over them; garnish the dish with fennel, sliced lemon, barberries, and horseradish. If you have any fried fish cold, you may put it into this marinate.--To fricassee soles white. Clean your soles very well, bone them nicely, and if large, cut them in eight pieces, if small, only in four; take off the heads; put the heads and bones, an anchovy, a faggot of sweet herbs, a blade or two of mace, some whole pepper, salt, an onion, and a crust of bread, all into a clean saucepan, with a pint of water, cover it close, and let it boil till a third is wasted; strain it through a fine sieve into a stew-pan; put in your soles with a gill of white wine, a little parsley chopped fine, a few mushrooms cut in two, a piece of butter rolled in flour, enough to thicken your sauce; set it over your stove, shake your pan frequently, till they are enough, and of a good thickness; take the scum off very clean, dish them up, and garnish with lemon and barberries.--Another way. Strip off the black skin of the fish, but not the white; then take out the bones, and cut the flesh into slices about two inches long; dip the slices in the yolks of eggs, and strew over them raspings of bread; then fry them in clarified butter, and when they are fried enough, take them out on a plate, and set them by the fire till you have made the following sauce. Take the bones of the fish, boil them up with water, and put in some anchovy and sweet herbs, such as thyme and parsley, and add a little pepper, cloves and mace. When these have boiled together some time, take the butter in which the fish was fried, put it into a pan over the fire, shake flour into it, and keep it stirring while the flour is shaking in; then strain the liquor into it, in which the fish bones, herbs, and spice were boiled, and boil it together, till it is very thick, adding lemon juice to your taste. Put your fish into a dish, and pour the sauce over it; serve it up, garnished with slices of lemon and fried parsley. This dish may take place on any part of the table, either in the first or second course.--Another way. Take a pair of large soles, skin and clean them well, pour a little vinegar, and strew some salt over them; let them lay in this till they are to be used. When you want to boil them, take a clean stew-pan, put in a pint of white wine, and a little water, a faggot of sweet herbs, an onion stuck with three or four cloves, a blade of mace, a little whole pepper, and a little salt. When your soles are enough, take them up, and lay them into a dish, strain off the liquor, put it into the stew-pan, with a good piece of butter rolled in flour, and half a pint of white shrimps clean picked; toss all up together, till it is of a proper thickness; take care to skim it very clean, pour it over the fish. Garnish the dish with scraped horseradish, and sliced lemon; or you may send them to table plain, and for sauce, chop the meat of a lobster, bruise the body very smooth with a spoon, mix it with your liquor, and send it to table in a boat or bason. This is much the best way to dress a small turbot. SOLE PIE. Split some soles from the bone, and cut the fins close. Season with a mixture of salt, pepper, a little nutmeg and pounded mace, and put them in layers, with oysters. A pair of middling-sized soles will be sufficient, and half a hundred oysters. Put in the dish the oyster liquor, two or three spoonfuls of broth, and some butter. When the pie comes from the oven, pour in a cupful of thick cream, and it will eat excellently.--Another way. Clean and bone a pair of large soles; boil about two pounds of eels tender; take off all the meat, put the bones into the water they were boiled in, with the bones of the soles, a blade of mace, whole pepper, and a little salt; let this boil till you have about half a pint of strong broth. Take the flesh off the eels, and chop it very fine, with a little lemon peel, an anchovy, parsley, and bread crumbs: season with pepper, salt, nutmeg, and beaten mace; melt a quarter of a pound of butter, and work all up to a paste. Sheet the dish with a good puff-paste; lay the forcemeat on the paste, and then lay in the soles; strain off the broth, scum it clean, pour over the fish a sufficient quantity, and lay on the lid. When it comes from the oven, if you have any of the broth left, you may warm it, and pour it into the pie. SOLID SYLLABUBS. Mix a quart of thick raw cream, one pound of refined sugar, a pint and a half of fine raisin wine, in a deep pan; and add the grated peel and the juice of three lemons. Beat or whisk it one way, half an hour; then put it on a sieve, with a piece of thin muslin laid smooth in the shallow end, till the next day. Put it in glasses: it will keep good in a cool place ten days. SOMERSETSHIRE SYLLABUB. Put into a large china bowl a pint of port, a pint of sherry, or other white wine, and sugar to taste. Milk the bowl full. In twenty minutes' time, cover it pretty high with clouted cream. Grate nutmeg over it, add pounded cinnamon, and nonpareil comfits. SORE BREASTS. Sore breasts in females, during the time of suckling, are often occasioned by the improper practice of drawing the breasts, which is both painful and dangerous. If they get too full and hard before the infant can be applied, it is better to let them remain a few hours in that state, than to use any unnatural means, or else to present the breast to a child that is a few months old. It is the application of too great force in drawing them, placing a child to suck at improper times, the use of stimulating liquors and heated rooms, which frequently occasion milk fevers and abscesses in the breast. The nipple is sometimes so sore, that the mother is sometimes obliged to refuse the breast, and a stagnation takes place, which is accompanied with ulcerations and fever. To prevent these dangerous affections, the young mother should carefully protrude the nipple between her fingers to make it more prominent, and cover it with a hollow nutmeg several weeks previous to her delivery. But if the parts be already in a diseased state, it will be proper to bathe them with lime water, or diluted port wine. After this the breast should be dressed with a little spermaceti ointment, or a composition of white wax and olive oil, which is mild and gentle. If this do not answer the purpose, take four ounces of diachylon, two ounces of olive oil, and one ounce of vinegar. Boil them together over a gentle fire, keep stirring them till reduced to an ointment, and apply a little of it to the nipple on a fine linen rag. If accompanied with fever, take the bark in electuary three or four times a day, the size of a nutmeg, and persevere in it two or three weeks if necessary. SORE EYES. Pound together in a mortar, an ounce of bole-ammoniac, and a quarter of an ounce of white copperas. Shred fine an ounce of camphor, and mix the ingredients well together. Pour on them a quart of boiling water, stir the mixture till it is cold, and apply a drop or two to the eye, to remove humours or inflammation. A cooling eye-water may be made of a dram of lapis calaminaris finely powdered, mixed with half a pint of white wine, and the same of plantain water. SORE THROAT. An easy remedy for this disorder is to dip a piece of broad black ribband into hartshorn, and wear it round the throat two or three days. If this be not sufficient, make a gargle in the following manner. Boil a little green sage in water, strain it, and mix it with vinegar and honey. Or pour a pint of boiling verjuice on a handful of rosemary tops in a basin, put a tin funnel over it with the pipe upwards, and let the fume go to the throat as hot as it can be borne. A common drink for a sore throat may be made of two ounces of Turkey figs, the same quantity of sun raisins cut small, and two ounces of pearl barley, boiled in three pints of water till reduced to a quart. Boil it gently, then strain it, and take it warm. Sometimes a handful of salt heated in an earthen pan, then put into a flannel bag, and applied as hot as possible round the throat, will answer the purpose. A fumigation for a sore throat may be made in the following manner. Boil together a pint of vinegar, and an ounce of myrrh, for half an hour, and pour the liquor into a basin. Place over it the large part of a funnel that fits the basin, and let the patient inhale the vapour by putting the pipe of the funnel into his mouth. The fumigation must be applied as hot as possible, and renewed every quarter of an hour, till the patient is relieved. For an inflammation or putrid sore throat, or a quinsey, this will be found of singular use if persisted in. SORREL SAUCE. Wash and clean a quantity of sorrel, put it into a stewpan that will just hold it, with a piece of butter, and cover it close. Set it over a slow fire for a quarter of an hour, pass the sorrel with the back of a wooden spoon through a hair sieve, season it with pepper and salt, and a dust of powdered sugar. Make it hot, and serve it up under lamb, veal, or sweetbreads. Cayenne, nutmeg, and lemon juice, are sometimes added. SORREL SOUP. Make a good gravy with part of a knuckle of veal, and the scrag end of a neck or a chump end of a loin of mutton. Season it with a bunch of sweet herbs, pepper, and salt, and two or three cloves. When the meat is quite stewed down, strain it off, and let it stand till cold. Clear it well from the fat, put it into a stewpan with a young fowl nicely trussed, and set it over a slow fire. Wash three or four large handfuls of sorrel, chop it a little, fry it in butter, put it into the soup, and let the whole stew till the fowl is well done. Skim it very clean, and serve it up with the fowl in the soup. SOUPS. It has generally been considered as good economy to use the cheapest and most inferior kind of meat for broths and soups, and to boil it down till it is entirely destroyed, and hardly worth giving to the pigs. But this is a false frugality; and it is far better to buy good pieces of meat, and only stew them till they are tender enough to be eaten. Lean juicy beef, mutton, or veal, form the basis of good broth; and it is therefore advisable to procure those pieces which afford the richest succulence, and such as is fresh slain. Stale meat will make the broth grouty and bad tasted, and fat is not so well adapted to the purpose. The following herbs, roots, and seasonings, are proper for making and giving a relish to broths and soups, according as the taste may suit. Scotch barley, pearl barley, wheat flour, oatmeal, bread, raspings, peas, beans, rice, vermicelli, maccaroni, isinglass, potatoe mucilage, mushroom, or mushroom ketchup, champignons, parsnips, carrots, beet root, turnips, garlic, shalots, and onions. Sliced onions fried with butter and flour till they are browned, and then rubbed through a sieve, are excellent to heighten the colour and flavour of brown soups and sauces, and form the basis of most of the fine relishes furnished by the cook. The older and drier the onion, the stronger will be its flavour, and the quantity must be regulated accordingly. Leeks, cucumber, or burnet vinegar; celery, or celery seed pounded. The latter, though equally strong, does not impart the delicate sweetness of the fresh vegetable; and when used as a substitute, its flavour should be corrected by the addition of a bit of sugar. Cress seed, parsley, common thyme, lemon thyme, orange thyme, knotted marjoram, sage, mint, winter savoury, and basil. As fresh green basil is seldom to be procured, and its fine flavour is soon lost, the best way of preserving the extract is by pouring wine on the fresh leaves. Bay leaves, tomata, tarragon, chervil, burnet, allspice, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, clove, mace, black pepper, white pepper, essence of anchovy, lemon peel, lemon juice, and Seville orange juice. The latter imparts a finer flavour than the lemon, and the acid is much milder. The above materials, with wine and mushroom ketchup, combined in various proportions, will make an endless variety of excellent broths and soups. The general fault of English soups seems to be the employment of an excess of spice, and too small a proportion of roots and herbs. This is especially the case with tavern soups, where cayenne and garlic are often used instead of black pepper and onion, for the purpose of obtaining a higher relish. Soups, which are intended to constitute the principal part of a meal, certainly ought not to be flavoured like sauces, which are only designed to give a relish to some particular dish. The principal art in composing a good rich soup, is so to proportion the several ingredients one to another, that no particular taste be stronger than the rest; but to produce such a fine harmonious relish, that the whole becomes delightful. In order to this, care must be taken that the roots and herbs be perfectly well cleaned, and that the water be proportioned to the quantity of meat, and other ingredients. In general a quart of water may be allowed to a pound of meat for soups; and half the quantity for gravies. If they stew gently, little more water need be put in at first, than is expected at the end; for when the pot is covered quite close, and the fire gentle, very little is wasted. Gentle stewing is incomparably the best; the meat is more tender, and the soup better flavoured. The cover of a soup kettle should fit very close, or the most essential parts of the broth will soon evaporate, as will also be the case with quick boiling. It is not merely the fibres of the meat that afford nourishment, but chiefly the juices they contain; and these are not only extracted but exhaled, if it be boiled fast in an open vessel. A succulent soup can never be made but in a well closed vessel, which preserves the nutritive parts by preventing their dissipation, yet the flavour is perhaps more wholesome by an exposure to the air. Place the soup kettle over a moderate fire, sufficient to make the water hot, without causing it to boil; for if the water boils immediately, it will not penetrate the meat, and cleanse it from the clotted blood and other matters, which ought to go off in scum. The meat will be hardened all over by violent heat, will shrink up as if it were scorched, and afford very little gravy. On the contrary, by keeping the water heating about half an hour without boiling, the meat swells, becomes tender, and its fibres are dilated. By this process, it yields a quantity of scum, which must be taken off as soon as it appears. After the meat has had a good infusion for half an hour, the fire may be improved to make the pot boil, and the vegetables be put in with a little salt. These will cause more scum to rise, which must be taken off immediately. Then cover the boiler very closely, and place it at a proper distance from the fire, where it is to boil very gently and equally, but not fast. Soups will generally take from three to six hours doing. The better way is to prepare them the evening before, as that will give more time to attend to the dinner the next day. When the soup is cold, the fat may much more easily and completely be removed; and when it is decanted, take care not to disturb the settlings at the bottom of the vessel, which are so fine that they will escape through a sieve. A tammis is the best strainer, the soup appears smoother and finer, and the cloth is easier cleaned than any sieve. If you strain it while it is hot, let the tammis or napkin be previously soaked in cold water; the coldness of the strainer will tend to coagulate the fat, and only suffer the pure broth to pass through. The full flavour of the ingredients can only be extracted by long and slow simmering, during which the boiler must be kept close covered, to prevent evaporation. Clear soups must be perfectly transparent, thickened soups about the consistence of cream; the latter will require nearly double the quantity of seasoning, but too much spice makes it unwholesome. To thicken and give body to soups and sauces, the following materials are used. Bread raspings, potatoe mucilage, isinglass, flour and butter, barley, rice, or oatmeal and water rubbed well together. Any of these are to be mixed gradually with the soup, till thoroughly incorporated, and it should afterwards have at least half an hour's gentle simmering. If it appears lumpy, it must be passed through a tammis or fine sieve. A piece of boiled beef pounded to a pulp, with a bit of butter and flour, and rubbed through a sieve, and gradually incorporated with the soup, will be found an excellent addition. If the soup is too thin or too weak, take off the cover of the boiler, and let it boil till some of the watery part of it has evaporated; or add some of the thickening materials before mentioned. When soups and gravies are kept from day to day, in hot weather, they should be warmed up every day, and put into fresh scalded pans or tureens, and placed in a cool cellar. In temperate weather, every other day may be sufficient.--It has been imagined that soups tend to relax the stomach; but so far from being prejudicial in this way, the moderate use of such kind of liquid food may rather be considered as salutary, and affording a good degree of nourishment. Soup of a good quality, if not eaten too hot, or in too great a quantity, is attended with great advantages, especially to those who drink but little. Warm fluids in the form of soup, unite with our juices much sooner and better, than those which are cold and raw. On this account, what is called Restorative Soup is the best food for those who are enfeebled by disease or dissipation, and for old people, whose teeth and digestive organs are impaired. After taking cold, or in nervous headachs, cholics, indigestions, and different kinds of cramps and spasms in the stomach, warm broth or soup is of excellent service. After intemperate eating, to give the stomach a holiday for a day or two, by a diet on mutton broth, is the best way to restore its tone. The stretching of any power to its utmost extent, weakens it; and if the stomach be obliged every day to do as much as it can, it will every day be able to do less. It is therefore a point of wisdom to be temperate in all things, frequently to indulge in soup diet, and occasionally in almost total abstinence, in order to preserve the stomach in its full tone and vigour.--Cheap soups for charitable purposes are best made of fat meat, well boiled with vegetables. Much unreasonable prejudice has prevailed on this subject, as if fat was unsuitable for such a purpose, when it is well known that the nutritious parts of animal and vegetable diet depend on the oil, jelly, mucilage, and sweetness which they contain. The farina of grain, and the seeds of vegetables, contain more of the nutritious and essential parts of the plant than any other, as is evident from the use of celery seed, the eighth part of an ounce of which will give more relish to a gallon of soup, than a large quantity of the root or stalk. On the same principle, the fat is the essence of meat, nearly so as the seeds of plants are of their respective species. To establish this fact, a simple experiment will be sufficient. Boil from two to four ounces of the lean part of butcher's meat in six quarts of water, till reduced to a gallon. Thicken it with oatmeal, and the result of the decoction will be found to be water gruel, or something like it. But dissolve the same quantity of the fat of meat in a gallon of water, thicken it over the fire with oatmeal, and the result will be a very pleasant broth, possessing the identical taste of the meat in a considerable degree, whether of beef or mutton. If some of the gelatinous parts of meat be added, the broth is then of a rich and nutritious quality, and can be made very cheap. For example: take from four to six ounces of barley, oatmeal two ounces, onions or leeks a small quantity; beef fat, suet, or drippings, from two to four ounces; celery seed half a spoonful, pepper and salt to give the soup a relish, and water sufficient to make a gallon. Boil the barley, previously washed, in six quarts of water, which when boiled sufficiently soft will be reduced to a gallon. It will be necessary to skim it clean in the course of the boiling, and to stir it well from the bottom of the boiler. The celery seed should be bruised, and added with the leeks and onions, towards the end of the process. The oatmeal is to be mixed in a little cold water, and put in about an hour before the soup is done. In the last place add the fat, melted before the fire, if not in a state of drippings, and season with pepper and salt. A few grains of cayenne would give the soup a higher relish. Wheat flour may be used instead of oatmeal, but in a smaller proportion. The addition of turnips, carrots, and cabbages, will be a considerable improvement. The intention of the oatmeal or flour is, by the mucilage they contain, assisted with barley broth, to unite the fat with the liquid, so as to form one uniform mass. Where the fat is suspended in the soup, and not seen floating on the top, by which it is rendered easier of digestion, and more readily convertible into good chyle, it is evident that it must be more palatable, as well as abundantly more nutritious. Some may think this kind of soup unwholesome, from the quantity of fat it contains; but a little reflection will shew the contrary. Suet puddings and dumplins are not unwholesome, neither are mutton drippings with potatoes or other vegetables. In short, fat is eaten daily by all ranks of people, in some way or other, in much larger quantities than is prescribed for soup. A labouring man would find no difficulty in eating as much suet at one meal, in a flour pudding, or as much drippings as is necessary for a gallon of soup, in a mass of potatoes or cabbages; while at the same time a quart of soup with a slice of bread, would be a very hearty meal. In no other way could meat drippings be applied to so good a purpose, as in the manufacture of a gallon of soup, sufficient to give a dinner to a whole family. The quantity of fat or drippings necessary for the soup is so small, that it may easily be spared from a joint of roast meat, while enough will remain for other purposes. When mutton dripping is made into soup, wheat flour is better than oatmeal; but the mucilage of potatoe is better still, requiring only one ounce to the gallon. When pork is roasted, peas should be used in preference to boiled barley, and the soup will be very superior in flavour to any that is made with the bones of meat, or combined with bacon. Fat pork is eaten daily in large quantities, in most of the counties of England; and in some parts, hog's lard is spread on bread instead of butter, besides the abundance of lard that is used by all ranks of people, in puddings, cakes, and pasties. Fat enters so much into the composition of our diet, that we could scarcely subsist without it; and the application of it to soups is only a different mode of using it, and certainly more frugal and economical than any other. It may readily be perceived how soups made from lean meat might be improved by the addition of a little fat, mixed up and incorporated with a mucilage of potatoes, of wheat flour, oatmeal, peas, and barley. But where a quantity of fat swims on the surface of the broth, made from a fat joint of meat, and it cannot from its superabundance be united with the liquid, by means of any mucilage, it had better be skimmed off, and preserved for future use; otherwise the soup will not be agreeable, for it is the due proportion of animal and vegetable substance that makes soup pleasant and wholesome. To make good soup of a leg of beef or an ox cheek, which is generally called stew, a pretty large quantity of the vegetable class ought to be added; and none seems better adapted than Scotch barley, by which double and treble the quantity of soup may be made from the same given weight of meat. One pint of well prepared leg of beef, or ox cheek soup, together with the fat, will make a gallon of good soup at the trifling expense of four-pence. In the same way soups may be made from the stew of beef, mutton, veal, or pork, choosing those parts where mucilage, jelly, and fat abound. Bacon is allowed to be a considerable improvement to the taste of veal, whether roasted or boiled; and it is the same in soup. When therefore veal broth is made for family use, two ounces of fat bacon should be added to every gallon, melted before the fire or in a fryingpan. The soup should then be thickened with flour, potatoe starch, and barley. The last article should seldom be omitted in any soup, it being so very cheap and pleasant, as well as wholesome and nutritious. Soup made of tripe is another cheap article. Boil a pound of well cleaned tripe in a gallon of barley broth, with onions and parsley, adding two ounces of bacon fat, with salt and pepper. This produces an extremely nutritious soup, from the gelatinous principle with which the tripe abounds. Cow heels, calves and sheep's feet, are also well adapted to the purpose. Excellent soups may be made from fried meat, where the fat and gravy are added to the boiled barley; and for that purpose, fat beef steaks, pork and mutton chops, should be preferred, as containing more of the nutritious principle. Towards the latter end of frying the steaks, add a little water to produce a gravy, which is to be put to the barley broth. A little flour should also be dredged in, which will take up all the fat left in the fryingpan. A quantity of onions should previously be shred, and fried with the fat, which gives the soup a fine flavour, with the addition of pepper, salt, and other seasoning. There would be no end to the variety of soups that might be made from a number of cheap articles differently combined; but perhaps the distribution of soup gratis does not answer so well as teaching people how to make it, and to improve their comforts at home. The time lost in waiting for the boon, and fetching it home, might by an industrious occupation, however poorly paid for labour, be turned to a better account than the mere obtaining of a quart of soup. But it unfortunately happens, that the best and cheapest method of making a nourishing soup, is least known to those who have most need of it. The labouring classes seldom purchase what are called the coarser pieces of meat, because they do not know how to dress them, but lay out their money in pieces for roasting, which are far less profitable, and more expensive in the purchase. To save time, trouble, and firing, these are generally sent to the oven to be baked, the nourishing parts are evaporated and dried up, the weight is diminished nearly one third, and what is purchased with a week's earnings is only sufficient for a day or two's consumption. If instead of this improvident proceeding, a cheap and wholesome soup were at least occasionally substituted, it would banish the still more pernicious custom of drinking tea two or three times a day, for want of something more supporting and substantial. In addition then to the directions already given, the following may be considered as one of the cheapest and easiest methods of making a wholesome soup, suited to a numerous family among the labouring classes. Put four ounces of Scotch barley washed clean, and four ounces of sliced onions, into five quarts of water. Boil it gently for one hour, and pour it into a pan. Put into a saucepan nearly two ounces of beef or mutton drippings, or melted suet, or two or three ounces of minced bacon; and when melted, stir into it four ounces of oatmeal. Rub these together into a paste, and if properly managed, the whole of the fat will combine with the barley broth, and not a particle, appear on the surface to offend the most delicate stomach. Now add the barley broth, at first a spoonful at a time, then the rest by degrees, stirring it well together till it boils. Put into a teacup a dram of finely pounded cress or celery seed, and a quarter of a dram of finely pounded cayenne, or a dram and a half of ground black pepper or allspice, and mix it up with a little of the soup. Put this seasoning into the whole quantity, stir up the soup thoroughly, let it simmer gently a quarter of an hour, and add a little salt. The flavour may be varied by doubling the portion of onions, or adding a clove of garlic or shalot, and leaving out the celery seed. Change of food is absolutely necessary, not only as a matter of pleasure and comfort, but also of health. It may likewise be much improved, if instead of water, it be made of the liquor that meat has been boiled in. This soup has the advantage of being very soon made, with no more fuel than is necessary to warm a room. Those who have not tasted it, cannot imagine what a savoury and satisfying meal is produced by the combination of these cheap and homely ingredients. SOUP WITH CUCUMBERS. Pare and cut the cucumbers, then stew them with some good broth, and veal gravy to cover them. When done enough, heat the soup with the liquor they were stewed in, and season it with salt. Serve up the soup garnished with the cucumbers. These will be a proper garnish for almost any kind of soup. SOUP A L' EAU. Put into a saucepan holding about three pints, a quarter of a cabbage, four carrots, two parsnips, six onions, and three or four turnips. Add a root of celery, a small root of parsley, some sorrel, a bunch of white beet leaves and chervil, and half a pint of peas tied in a piece of linen. Add water in proportion to the vegetables, and stew the whole for three hours. Strain off the broth, add some salt, heat it and serve it up, garnished with the vegetables. SOUP GRAVY. Take some good juicy lean beef, free from sinews or other offal substance; or take the lean of a neck, or loin, or the fleshy part of a leg of mutton, or well-grown fowl, in the proportion of a pound of meat to a quart of water to beef, and rather less to mutton or fowl. Cut the meat in pieces, and let it stew very gently till the pure gravy is fairly drawn from the meat, without extracting the dregs. The time required for this will vary according to the quantity, the proper degree of heat being of course longer in penetrating the larger portion. From an hour and a half to three hours, at discretion, will allow sufficient time for any quantity that is likely to be wanted at once for soup, at least in private families. When done, strain the gravy through a hair sieve into an earthen pot, and let it stand till cold. Take off the fat, and pour the gravy clear from the sediment at the bottom. SOUP MAIGRE. Melt half a pound of butter into a stewpan, shake it round, and throw in half a dozen sliced onions. Shake the pan well for two or three minutes, then put in five heads of celery, two handfuls of spinach, two cabbage lettuces cut small, and some parsley. Shake the pan well for ten minutes, put in two quarts of water, some crusts of bread, a tea-spoonful of beaten pepper, and three or four blades of mace. A handful of white beet leaves, cut small, may be added. Boil it gently an hour. Just before serving, beat in two yolks of eggs, and a large spoonful of vinegar.--Another. Flour and fry a quart of green peas, four sliced onions, the coarse stalks of celery, a carrot, a turnip, and a parsnip. Pour on three quarts of water, let it simmer till the whole will pulp through a sieve, and boil in it the best of the celery cut thin.--Another way. Take a bunch of celery washed clean and cut in pieces, a large handful of spinage, two cabbage lettuces, and some parsley; wash all very clean, and shred them small; then take a large clean stewpan, put in about half a pound of butter, and when it is quite hot, slice four large onions very thin, and put into your butter; stir them well about for two or three minutes; then put in the rest of your herbs; shake all well together for near twenty minutes, dust in some flour, and stir them together; pour in two quarts of boiling water; season with pepper, salt, and beaten mace: chip a handful of crust of bread, and put in; boil it half an hour, then beat up the yolks of three eggs in a spoonful of vinegar; pour it in, and stir it for two or three minutes; then send it to table. SOUP WITH ONIONS. Blanch some small white onions in scalding water, peel off the first skin, and stew them in a little broth. When ready, lay them in a row round the edge of the dish intended for the soup. To keep them in their place, put a thin slip of bread rubbed with white of egg round the rim of the dish, and set the dish for a moment over a stove to fasten the bread. Slips of bread may be used in this manner to keep all kinds of garnishing to soups in their proper place. SOUP A LA REINE. Blanch and beat very fine in a marble mortar, three quarters of a pound of sweet almonds, with the white part of a cold roasted fowl. Slice to these the crumb of four small rolls, and then strain to it three quarts of good veal gravy, boiled with a blade of mace. Simmer these all together for a quarter of an hour, then rub them through a tammis, season it with salt, give it a boil, and serve it up with a small tea-cupful of cream stirred into it, and the slices of crust cut off the rolls laid on the top.--Another way. Have ready a strong veal broth that is white, and clean scummed from all fat; blanch a pound of almonds, beat them in a mortar, with a little water, to prevent their oiling, and the yolks of four poached eggs, the lean part of the legs, and all the white part of a roasted fowl; pound all together, as fine as possible; then take three quarts of the veal broth, put it into a clean stew-pot, put your ingredients in, and mix them well together; chip in the crust of two French rolls well rasped; boil all together over a stove, or a clear fire. Take a French roll, cut a piece out of the top, and take out all the crumb: mince the white part of a roasted fowl very fine, season it with pepper, salt, nutmeg, and a little beaten mace; put in about an ounce of butter, and moisten it with two spoonfuls of your soup strained to it; set it over the stove to be thoroughly hot: cut some French roll in thin slices, and set them before the fire to crisp; then strain off your soup through a tammis or a lawn strainer, into another clean stew-pot; let it stew till it is as thick as cream; then have your dish ready; put in some of your crisp bread; fill your roll with your mince, and lay on the top as close as possible; put it into the middle of your dish, and pour a ladleful of your soup over it; put in your bread first, then pour in your soup, till your dish is full. Garnish with petty patties; or make a rim for your dish, and garnish with lemon raced. If you please, you may send a chicken boned in the middle, instead of your roll; or you may send it to table with only crisp bread. SOUP A-LA SAP. Boil half a pound of grated potatoes, a pound of beef sliced thin, a pint of grey peas, an onion, and three ounces of rice, in six pints of water till reduced to five. Strain it through a cullender, pulp the peas into it, and return it into the saucepan with two heads of sliced celery. Stew it tender, add pepper and salt, and serve it with fried bread. SOUR BEER. If beer be brewed ever so well, much will depend on the management afterwards, to prevent its becoming sour or vapid. Different conveniences of cellarage will materially affect beer. If the cellar is bad, there should not be more than six weeks between brewing and brewing. Where beer is kept too long in a bad cellar, so as to be affected by the heat of the weather, it will putrefy, though ever so well bunged. Hops may prevent its turning sour, but will not keep it from becoming vapid. It should be well understood, that there is no certainty in keeping beer, if not brewed at the proper season. In winter there is a danger of wort getting too cold, so as to prevent the process of fermentation; and in the summer, of its not being cool enough, unless brewed in the dead of night. In temperate weather, at the spring or autumn, the spirit of the beer is retained, and it is thereby enabled to work the liquor clear; whereas in hot weather, the spirit quickly evaporates, leaving the wort vapid and flat, unable to work itself clear, but keeping continually on the fret, till totally spoiled. This is the obvious reason for the use of sugar, prepared for colour, because sugar will bear the heat better than malt; and when thoroughly prepared, possesses such a strong principle of heat in itself, as to bid defiance to the hottest temperature of the air, and to render its turning sour almost impossible. Clean casks are also essential to the preservation of good beer. To keep the casks sweet and in order, never allow them to remain open; but whenever the beer is drawn off, bung them up tight with the lees within them. In a good cellar they will never spoil. Should the casks get musty, the following method will remedy the evil. Soak them well for three or four days in cold water, then fill them full of boiling hot water; put in a lump or two of lime, shake it thoroughly till quite dissolved, let the casks stand about half an hour, then wash them out with cold water, and they will be clean and sweet. If still apprehensive of the beer getting flat or sour, put into a cask containing eighteen gallons, a pint of ground malt suspended in a bag, and close the bung perfectly. This will prevent the mischief, and the beer will improve during the whole time of drawing it. When beer has actually turned sour, put in some oyster shells, calcined to whiteness, or a little powdered chalk. Either of these will correct the acidity, and make it brisk and sparkling. Salt of tartar, or soda powder, put into the beer at the time of drinking it, will also destroy the acidity, and make it palatable. SOUR KROUT. Take some full-grown hard cabbages of the closest texture, and cut them into slices about an inch thick, opening them a little, that they may receive the salt more effectually. Rub a good deal of salt amongst them, lay them into a large pan, and sprinkle more salt over them. Let them remain twenty-four hours, turning them over four or five times, that every part may be alike saturated. Next day put the cabbage into a tub or large jar, pressing it down well, and then pour over it a pickle made of a pint of salt to a quart of water. This pickle must be poured on boiling hot, and the cabbage entirely covered with it. Let it stand thus twenty-four hours longer, when it will have shrunk nearly a third. Then take the cabbage out, and put it into a fresh tub or jar, pressing it down well as before, and pour over it a pickle made as follows. To one quart of the salt and water pickle which had been used the day before, put three quarts of vinegar, four ounces of allspice, and two ounces of carraway seeds. This must be poured on cold, so as to cover the cabbage completely. Let it stand one day loosely covered, and then stop it down quite close. SOUR SAUCE FOR FISH. Boil two blades of mace in a wine glass of water, and half as much sharp vinegar, for a quarter of an hour. Then take out the mace, and put in a quarter of a pound of butter, and the yolk of an egg well beaten. Shake these over the fire one way till the sauce is properly thickened, without suffering it to boil. SOUSE FOR BRAWN. Boil a quarter of a pint of wheat bran, a sprig of bay, and a sprig of rosemary, in two gallons of water for half an hour, adding four ounces of salt. Strain it, and let it cool. This will do for pig's feet and ears, as well as brawn. SOUSED STURGEONS. Draw and divide the fish down the back, and then into pieces. Put the fish into salt and water, clean it well, bind it with tape, and boil it very carefully in vinegar, salt, and water. When done lay it to cool, and pack it up close in the liquor it was boiled in. SOUSED TRIPE. Boil the tripe, but not quite tender; then put it into salt and water, which must be changed every day till it is all used. When the tripe is to be dressed, dip it into a batter of eggs and flour, and fry it of a good brown. SOY. To make English soy, pound some walnuts when fit for pickling, in a marble mortar, very small. Squeeze them through a strainer, let the liquor stand to settle, and then pour off the fine. To every quart of liquor put a pound of anchovies, and two cloves of shalot. Boil it enough to make the scum rise, and clear it well. Add two ounces of Jamaica pepper, a quarter of an ounce of mace, and half a pint of vinegar. Boil it again, until the anchovies are dissolved and the shalot tender, and let it stand till the next day. Then pour off the fine, and bottle it for use. Strain the thick through a sieve, and put it by separately. When used for fish, put some of the soy to the usual anchovies and butter, or to plain butter. SPANISH CARDOONS. Cut them three inches long, leaving out any that are hollow and green. Boil them in water half an hour, and then put them into warm water to pick them. Stew them with some broth, with a spoonful of flour mixed in it. Add salt, onions, roots, a bunch of sweet herbs, a dash of verjuice, and a little butter. When they are well done take them out, and put them into a good cullis, with a little broth. Boil them half an hour in this sauce to give them a flavour, and then serve them up. Let the sauce be neither too clear nor too thick, and of a fine light colour. SPANISH FLUMMERY. Scald a quart of cream, with a little cinnamon or mace. Mix this gradually into half a pound of rice flour, and then stir it over a gentle fire till it acquires the thickness of jelly. Sweeten it to the taste, and pour it into cups or shapes. Turn it out when cold, and serve it up. Cream, wine, or preserves eat well with it, or it may be eaten alone as preferred. Oatmeal may be used instead of rice. SPANISH FRITTERS. Cut the crumb of a French roll into square lengths, of the thickness of one's finger, nutmeg, sugar, pounded cinnamon, and an egg. When well soaked, fry the fritters of a nice brown; and serve with butter, wine, and sweet sauce. SPANISH PUFFS. Boil a stick of cinnamon, a piece of lemon peel, and a little sugar, in three quarters of a pint of water for ten minutes. Let it cool, then add three eggs well beaten, and shake in three large spoonfuls of flour. Beat these well together, add three more eggs, and simmer the whole over the fire, till it thickens almost to a paste. Drop this with a tea-spoon into boiling lard, and fry these little puffs of a delicate light brown. SPANISH SAUCE. Put some gravy into a saucepan with a glass of white wine, and the same of good broth. Add a bunch of parsley and chives, two cloves of garlic, half a bay leaf, a pinch of coriander seed, two cloves, a sliced onion, a carrot, half a parsnip, and two spoonfuls of salad oil. Stew these for two hours over a very slow fire. Skim off the fat, pass the sauce through a tammis, season it with pepper and salt, and use it with any thing as approved. SPARERIB. Baste it with a very little butter and flour; and when done, sprinkle it with dried sage crumbled. Serve it with potatoes and apple sauce. SPARROW. A mischievous destructive bird in corn-fields, and which should mostly be destroyed. It is observed, that were all the farmers in a neighbourhood to agree to their destruction, by offering rewards for their heads, their numbers might be lessened; and that were the practice general, surely the whole race might be extirpated. It is supposed that six-pence a dozen the first year, nine-pence the second, and a shilling the third year, would nearly reach their complete extirpation. To enforce which it should be considered how soon twelve sparrows destroy twelve penny-worth of wheat. In Kent, they use a species of trap, which is very effectual in taking them. It consists of a small wicker basket, resembling a fruit-sieve of the London markets, with a cover of the same material fitted to it, and formed on the principle of the fish-pot, and the vermin trap, into which the entrance is easy, but the return difficult. These traps, which are an ordinary article of sale in the markets of the district, are constituted of brown unpeeled oziers. The diameter about two feet; the depth nine inches; the cover is somewhat dishing, with a tunnel or inverted cone, in the centre, reaching to within an inch of the bottom of the basket; the aperture or entrance, formed by the points of the twigs, of which the tunnel is constructed, being about an inch and a half in diameter. And the usual bait is wheat scattered in the basket. The number caught at once, is frequently more than theory would suggest; the contentions of a few that have entered, seldom failing to bring others to the combat. These mischievous birds, however, soon grow too cunning to be taken in any sort of trap to any extent, which has a chance of extirpating and destroying the race; consequently some more effectual and certain plan, such as that suggested above, or some other, which is better and more fully adapted to the purpose, must be had recourse to in order to completely exterminate them, and prevent the injury they do annually to the farmer, in the destruction of his wheat and other crops. Though these are only small birds, they destroy vast quantities of grain, much more than has indeed been commonly supposed. It is stated to have been calculated to have amounted to a hundred sacks of wheat besides the oats and barley, in the course of only one season, in a township of no very great extent in the north-western part of the kingdom. Where rewards or sums of money are paid for the taking or destroying them, no advantages are gained, except where there are sufficiently ample and proper regulations entered into and enforced, the whole district, parish, or township, becomes partakers in the business. No languid or half measures will do any thing useful, or to the purpose, in this sort of undertaking. It is not improbable, but that these destructive birds might be greatly extirpated and thinned down in their numbers, by the use of some tasteless infusion of a strongly poisonous nature, either to the ears of the grain at the time of harvest, or to the naked grain in the winter season, when they are extremely eager for food, as they are constantly found to remain hovering about houses or other buildings, where the effects of such trials might easily be ascertained. If such a method should succeed, the whole race might readily, and with great facility and certainty, be exterminated. SPASMS. An involuntary and painful contraction of the muscles may arise from various causes, and require different modes of treatment. But if no medical assistance be at hand, the application of volatile liniments to the part affected, a clyster with a little laudanum in it, or the warm bath, may be tried with advantage. SPERMACETI OINTMENT. This is made of a quarter of a pint of fine salad oil, a quarter of a pound of white wax, and half an ounce of spermaceti, melted over a gentle fire, and kept stirring till the ointment is cold. SPICES. As it regards health, spices are generally improper; but black pepper, ginger, and cayenne, may be esteemed the best. Nutmegs, cloves, mace, cinnamon, and allspice, are generally productive of indigestion and headach, in persons of a weakly habit. SPIDERS. These industrious insects are generally loathed and destroyed, though they are extremely useful in reducing the quantity of flies, and serve as a very accurate barometer for the weather. When they are totally inactive, it is a certain sign that rain will shortly follow; but if they continue to spin during a shower, it indicates that the rain will soon be over, and that calm and fine weather will succeed. If the weather be about to change, and become wet or windy, the spider will make the supporters of his web very short; but if the threads be extended to an unusual length, the weather will continue serene for ten or twelve days, or more, according to the length of the threads which support the web. The red spider however is very injurious and destructive to different sorts of plants and fruit-trees, especially in forcing houses. It is found particularly so to those of the forced French bean, melon; peach, vine, cherry, currant, and some other kinds. The generation and production of this insect are greatly caused and promoted by the dry warm heat that is constantly kept up in the houses which contain these sorts of plants and trees, and there are many other circumstances which combine in bringing it forth. It is an insect which has no wings, and the female is oviparous. Several different methods have been attempted in order to the removal and destruction of it. Constant daily watering, or washing the trees, are said to have the power of subduing it, but in the execution of the work, care is always to be taken that every part of the leaves be wetted, otherwise the insects shelter and save themselves in the dry parts, and are preserved from the effects of the water. Moisture conveyed in some way or other is certainly found to be the most destructive, of any thing yet discovered, of these pernicious insects, as well as many others that infest hot-houses. Throwing weak lime-water in a plentiful manner on the under sides of the leaves, where these insects are commonly found, will, for the most part, soon destroy them. The following directions have been given for the destruction of this sort of spider, when it becomes injurious to melon plants; and the same may probably be found useful for those of the forced French bean, and some other similar kinds. In cases of dry weather, and with a dry heat, melon plants are very subject to be infested with the red spider; and the appearances of it may constantly be long noticed before the insects can be seen with the naked eye, by the leaves beginning to curl and crack in their middle parts. Whenever they are discovered to be in this state or condition, and there is fine warm sunny weather, the watering of them all over the leaves, both on the under and upper sides, is advised; a watering-pot, with a rose finely perforated with holes, or a garden-engine, which disperses the water in a fine dew-like manner, being employed for the purpose. The work should be performed about six o'clock in the morning, and the plants be shaded with mats about eight, if the sun shine with much power, shutting the frames down closely until about eleven; and then admitting a small quantity of fresh air, letting the mats remain until about three in the afternoon, when they should be wholly taken away. The shade which is thus afforded by the mats prevents the leaves of the plants from being scorched or otherwise injured by the action of the heat of the sun while they are in a wet cooled down state. Where a southerly breeze prevails, watering them again about three in the afternoon is recommended, shutting them up close as before, to keep the heat in, which causes a strong exhalation of the moisture, and is greatly destructive of the spiders. In all these waterings, the water is to be thrown as much and as finely as possible on the under sides of the leaves, where the insects mostly lodge; the vines or stems of the plants being gently turned in that intention, taking great care not to injure them, by which means the water is capable of being easily thrown over the whole of the under sides of the leaves, it being done in a gentle manner, in the modes already suggested, so as not to wash up the mouldy matters unto the plants: the lights and sides of the frames which contain the plants, should also, at the same time, have water plentifully thrown on and against them. When these waterings are finished, the vines or stems of the plants are to be carefully laid down again in their former positions. And if the day be sunny, the mats may be let remain, as already directed, until the leaves of the plants become perfectly dry, air being admitted according to the heat that may be present at the time. It is likewise further advised as a precautionary measure, that, before the frames and lights, which are to contain plants of this sort, are employed, they should be well washed, both inside and out, first with clean water, and then with a mixture of soap-suds and urine; a brush or woollen rag being made use of in the operation; as by this method the ova or eggs of the spiders or other insects that may have been deposited and lodged in or on them, in the preceding season, may be cleared away and destroyed. The exhalations of the water which has been thrown upon the plants, and the frames or boxes that contain them, may also be useful in killing these insects, in other cases by keeping them in a close state. These washings should never, however, be performed in cold frosty seasons; and the water made use of in such cases should always be of the rain or soft kind. SPINACH. This vegetable requires to be carefully washed and picked. When that is done, throw it into a saucepan that will just hold it, sprinkle it with a little salt, and cover it close. Set the pan on the fire, and shake it well. When sufficiently done, beat up the spinach with some butter, but it must be sent to table pretty dry. It would look well, if pressed into a tin mould in the form of a large leaf, which is sold at the tin shops. A spoonful of cream is an improvement. SPINACH CREAM. Beat the yolks of eight eggs with a whisk or a wooden spoon, sweeten it well, and add a stick of cinnamon, a pint of rich cream, and three quarters of a pint of new milk. Stir it well, and then add a quarter of a pint of spinach juice. Set it over a gentle stove, and stir it constantly one way, till it is as thick as a hasty pudding. Put into a custard dish some Naples biscuits, or preserved orange, in long slices, and pour the mixture over them. It is to be eaten cold, and is a dish either for supper, or for a second course. SPINACH AND EGGS. The spinach must be well washed, then throw a small handful of salt into a saucepan of boiling water, before the spinach is put in, and press it down as it boils. When it becomes tender, press it well in a sieve or cullender. Break the eggs into cups, and put them into a stewpan of boiling water. When done, take them out with a slice, and lay them on the spinach. Send them to table with melted butter. SPINACH PUDDING. Scald and chop some spinach very fine, four ounces of biscuit soaked in cream, the yolks of eight eggs beat up, a quarter of a pound of melted butter, a little salt and nutmeg, and sugar to your taste; beat up all together, and set it over the fire till it is stiff, but do not let it boil; cool it, and bake it in puff-paste; or you may butter a bason, and boil it.--Another. Boil a pint of cream, with some lemon-peel, a blade of mace, half a nutmeg cut in pieces; strain it off, and stir it till it is cold, then boil a good handful of young spinach tender; chop it very fine; beat up eight eggs, leave out four whites, add some fine sugar pounded, and a glass of sack; mix all well together, put it into the dish, with a puff-paste at the bottom, and lay on the top candied orange and lemon cut in thin slices. Half an hour, or a little better, will bake it. SPINACH SOUP. Shred two handfuls of spinach, a turnip, two onions, a head of celery, two carrots, and a little parsley and thyme. Put all into a stewpot, with a bit of butter the size of a walnut, and a pint of good broth, or the liquor in which meat has been boiled. Stew till the vegetables are quite tender, and work them with a spoon through a coarse cloth or sieve. To the vegetable pulp and liquor, add a quart of fresh water, salt and pepper, and boil all together. Have ready some suet dumplins the size of a walnut, and put them into a tureen, before the soup is poured over. The suet must be quite fresh, and not shred too fine. SPIRITS. Good pure spirits ought to be perfectly clear, pleasant, and strong, though not of a pungent odour, and somewhat of a vinous taste. To try the purity of spirits, or whether they have been diluted with water, see whether the liquor will burn away without leaving any mixture behind, by dipping in a piece of writing paper, and lighting it at the candle. As pure spirit is much lighter than water, put a hollow ivory ball into it: the deeper the ball sinks, the lighter the liquor, and consequently the more spirituous. SPIRITS OF CLARY. Distil a peck of clary flowers in a cold still, and then another peck of flowers, adding to them the distilled liquor. Put to this a bottle of sack or sweet wine, and another peck of flowers, and put all together into a glass still. Let it distil on white sugar candy, with the addition of a little ambergris. SPIRITS OF LAVENDER. Take fourteen pounds of lavender flowers, ten gallons and a half of rectified spirits of wine, and one gallon of water. Draw off ten gallons by a gentle fire, or which is much better, by a sand-bath heat. To convert this into the red liquid known by the name of compound lavender spirits, take of the above lavender spirits two gallons, of Hungary water one gallon, cinnamon and nutmegs three ounces each, and of red saunders one ounce. Digest the whole for three days in a gentle heat, and then filtre it for use. Some add saffron, musk, and ambergris, of each half a scruple; but these are now generally omitted. SPIRITS OF SAFFRON. Pick eight ounces of English saffron very clean, cut it fine, and steep it twenty-four hours in a gallon of the best white wine. Put it into an alembic with three gallons of water, draw it off gently so long as the saffron tastes, and sweeten it with white sugar candy. Dissolve the candy in some of the weaker extract, after the stronger part is drawn off, by setting it on the fire, and then mix the whole together. SPITS. Roasting spits require to be kept bright and clean, and should be scoured with nothing but sand and water. If they are wiped clean, as soon as the meat is drawn from them, and while they are hot, a very little cleaning will be necessary. A very useful kind of spit is sold at the ironmongers, which sustains the meat without the necessity of passing it through, which is much to be preferred. SPITCHCOCK EELS. Take one or two large eels, leave the skin on, cut them into pieces of three inches long, open them on the belly side, and clean them nicely. Wipe them dry, smear them over with egg, and strew on both sides chopped parsley, pepper and salt; a very little sage, and a bit of mace pounded fine and mixed with the seasoning. Rub the gridiron with a bit of suet, broil the fish of a fine colour, and serve with anchovy and butter sauce. SPLINTERS. To run splinters, prickles or thorns, such as those of roses, thistles, or chesnuts, into the hands, feet, or legs, is a very common accident; and provided any such substance is immediately extracted, it is seldom attended with any bad consequences. But the more certainly to prevent any ill effects, a compress of linen dipped in warm water, may be applied to the part, or it may be bathed a little while in warm water. If the thorn or splinter cannot be extracted directly, or if any part of it be left in, it causes an inflammation, and nothing but timely precaution will prevent its coming to an abscess. A plaster of shoemaker's wax spread upon leather, draws these wounds remarkably well. When it is known that any part of it remains, an expert surgeon would open the place and take it out; but if it be unobserved, as will sometimes happen, when the thorn or splinter is very small, till the inflammation begins, and no advice can be at once procured, the steam of water should be applied to it at first, and then a poultice of bread and milk, with a few drops of peruvian balsam. It is absolutely necessary that the injured part should be kept in the easiest posture, and as still as possible. If this does not soon succeed, good advice must be obtained without delay, as an accident of this kind neglected, or improperly treated, may be the occasion of losing a limb. In this and all cases of inflammation, a forbearance from animal food, and fermented liquors, is always advisable. SPONGE CAKE. Weigh ten eggs, add their weight in very fine sugar, and of flour the weight of six eggs. Beat the yolks with the flour, and the whites alone, to a very stiff froth. Mix by degrees the whites and the flour with the other ingredients, beat them well half an hour, and bake the cake an hour in a quick oven.--Another, without butter. Dry a pound of flour, and a pound and a quarter of sugar. Grate a lemon, add a spoonful of brandy, and beat the whole together with the hand for an hour. Bake the cake in a buttered pan, in a quick oven. Sweetmeats may be added if approved. SPOONMEATS FOR INFANTS. It is something more than a human axiom, that milk is for babes; and as this forms the basis of nearly all the food from which their nourishment is derived, it is necessary to observe, that the best way of using it is without either skimming or boiling it. The cream is the most nutritious balsamic part of milk, and to deprive it of this is to render it less nourishing, and less easy of digestion, than in its pure state. In some particular cases skimmed milk may be preferable, but it may be adopted as a general rule, that new milk is the wholesomest and the best. If it stands any time before it is used, instead of taking off the cream, it should be mixed in with the milk. Boiling the milk, if it be only a little, fixes it, and entirely alters its qualities. As a proof of this, it will not afterwards afford any cream, but merely a thin skin. In this state it is hard of digestion, and therefore apt to occasion obstructions. It is most proper for food in its natural state, or when only scalded.--One of the first and simplest preparations for infants is Bread Pap, made by pouring scalding water on thin slices of good white bread, and letting it stand uncovered till it cools. The water is then drained off, the bread bruised fine, and mixed with as much new milk as will make it of a tolerable consistence. It is then warm enough for use, without setting it upon the fire. Sugar is very commonly put into this pap, but it is much better without it. The palate of the child will not require sugar in any kind of food, till habit makes it familiar.--Egg Pap is another suitable article for young children. Set a quart of spring water on a clear brisk fire. Mix two spoonfuls of fresh fine flour with the yolks of two or three eggs well beaten, adding a little cold water. When the water is ready to boil, stir in the batter before it boils, till of a sufficient thickness. Then take it off the fire, add a little salt, pour it into a basin, and let it cool of itself till it become about as warm as milk from the cow. If eggs cannot be procured, a small piece of butter may be added with the salt, and stirred in gently till well mixed, to prevent its oiling. Eggs however are to be preferred. This food is extremely wholesome, affords real nourishment, opens all the passages, breeds good blood and lively spirits, is pleasant to the palate, and grateful to the stomach. The frequent use of it purifies the blood and all the humours, prevents windy distempers and griping pain, both of the stomach and bowels. From all the ingredients bearing a resemblance to each other, no predominant quality prevails, so that it may justly claim the first place amongst all spoonmeats or paps, and as food for infants it is next to the milk of the breast. In some cases it is much better, on account of the various diseases to which suckling women are subject, and the improper food in which they too frequently indulge. No other ingredients should however be added to this kind of food, such as sugar, spices, or fruits, which tend only to vitiate the diet, and to render it less nutritious. This and other sorts of spoonmeat should be made rather thin than otherwise, and abounding with liquid, whether milk or water. All porridges and spoonmeats that are made thin, and quickly prepared, are sweeter, brisker on the palate, and easier of digestion, than those which are thick, and long in preparing. Food should never be given to children more than milk warm, and the proper way to cool it is by letting it stand uncovered to cool itself; for much stirring alters the composition, and takes off the sweetness. Covering it down too, keeps in the fumes that ought to go off, and by excluding the air, renders it less pure.--Flour Pap. To two thirds of new milk, after it has stood five or six hours from the time of milking, add one third of spring water, and set it on a quick clear fire. Make a batter of milk and fine flour, and just as the milk and water is ready to boil, pour in the batter, and stir it a few minutes. When it is ready to boil again, take it off, add a little salt, and let it stand to cool. A good spoonful of flour is sufficient to thicken a pint of milk, or milk and water. This will make it about the thickness of common milk porridge, which is what will eat the sweetest, and be the easiest of digestion. This kind of food affords substantial nourishment, it neither binds nor loosens the body, but keeps it in proper order, nourishes the blood, and tends to produce a lively disposition. Pap prepared in this way is far more friendly to nature than in the common way of boiling, and may be constantly eaten with much better effect, and without ever tiring or cloying the stomach.--Oatmeal Pap. Mix a pint of milk and water, in the proportion of two thirds milk and one third water, with a good spoonful of oatmeal, but it is best not to be too thick. Set it in a saucepan upon a quick clear fire, and when it is near boiling take it off. Pour it from one basin into another, backwards and forwards seven or eight times, which will bring out the fine flour of the oatmeal, and incorporate it with the milk. Then return it into the saucepan, set it upon the fire, and when it is again ready to boil take it off, and let it stand in the saucepan a little to fine, for the husky part of the oatmeal will sink to the bottom. When settled, pour it off into a basin, add a little salt, and let it stand to cool. This is an excellent pap, very congenial to a weak constitution, affording good nourishment, and easy of digestion.--Water Gruel. Take a spoonful and a half of fresh ground oatmeal, mix with it gradually a quart of spring water, and set it on a clear fire. When ready to boil take it off, pour it from one basin into another, backwards and forwards five or six times, and set it on the fire again. Take it off again just before it boils, and let it stand a little time in the saucepan, that the coarse husks of the oatmeal may sink to the bottom. Then pour it out, add a little salt, and let it stand to cool. When water gruel is made with grots, it must boil gently for some time. The longer it boils the more it will jelly; but moderation must be observed in this respect, for if it be very long boiled and becomes very thick, it will be flat and heavy. A mistaken idea very generally prevails, that water gruel is not nourishing; on the contrary, it is a light, cleansing, nourishing food, good either in sickness or in health, both for old and young.--Milk Porridge. Make some water gruel, and when it has stood awhile to cool, add to it about one third part of new milk without boiling. It may be eaten with or without salt. Milk porridge is exceedingly cleansing and easy of digestion, and is agreeable to the weakest stomach. There is also another way of making it, which some prefer. Stir a pint of water gradually into three large spoonfuls of fresh oatmeal, let it stand till clear, and then pour off the water. Put a pint of fresh water to the oatmeal, stir it up well, and leave it till the next day. Strain off the liquor through a fine sieve, and set it in a saucepan over a clear brisk fire. Add about half the quantity of milk gradually while it is warming, and when it is just ready to boil take it off, pour it into a basin, add a little salt, and let it stand to cool. This as well as the former porridge is very light, and proper for weak stomachs.--Indian Arrow Root is another excellent preparation for children. Put a dessert-spoonful of the powdered root into a basin, and mix with it as much cold new milk as will make it into a paste. Pour upon this half a pint of milk scalding-hot, stirring it briskly to keep it smooth. Set it on the fire till it is ready to boil, then take it off, pour it into a basin, and let it cool. This may be made with water instead of milk, and some cold milk mixed with it afterwards; or if the stomach be very weak, it will be best without any milk at all. Great care must be taken to procure the genuine arrow root, which makes a very strengthening and excellent food for infants or invalids.--Sago Jelly. Soak a large spoonful of sago for an hour in cold water, then pour off the water, add a pint of fresh water to the sago, and stew it gently till it is reduced to about half the quantity. When done, pour it into a basin, and let it cool.--Sago with Milk. Prepare a large spoonful of sago by soaking it for an hour in cold water, but instead of adding water afterwards, put in a pint and a half of new milk. Boil it gently till reduced to about half the quantity, then pour it into a basin, and let it cool.--Tapioca Jelly. Wash two good spoonfuls of the large sort of tapioca in cold water, and then soak it in a pint and a half of water for four hours. Stew it gently in the same water till it is quite clear. Let it stand to cool after it is poured out of the saucepan, and use it either with or without the addition of a little new milk.--Pearl Barley Gruel. Put two ounces of pearl barley, after it has been well washed, into a quart of water. Simmer it gently till reduced to a pint, then strain it through a sieve, and let it cool.--Rice Gruel. Soak two large spoonfuls of rice in cold water for an hour. Pour off the water, and put a pint and a quarter of new milk to the rice. Stew it gently till the rice is sufficiently tender to pulp it through a sieve, and then mix the pulp into the milk that the rice was stewed in. Simmer it over the fire for ten minutes, and if it appear too thick, gradually add a little more milk, so as not to damp it from simmering. When done, pour it into a basin to cool.--Rice Milk. To four large spoonfuls of whole rice, washed very clean in cold water, add a quart of new milk, and stew them together very gently for three hours. Let it stand in a basin to cool before it is used. Another way of making rice milk is boiling the rice first in water, then pouring off the water, and boiling the rice with milk. A better way perhaps is, after washing the rice well, setting it over the fire for half an hour with a little water to break it. Add a little at a time some warm milk, till it is sufficiently done, and of a proper thickness. Let it simmer slowly, and season it with salt and sugar; but for children the sugar had better be omitted.--Ground Rice Milk. Mix a large spoonful of ground rice into a batter, with two or three spoonfuls of new milk. Set a pint of new milk on the fire, and when it is scalding hot, stir in the batter, and keep it on the fire till it thickens, but it must not boil. It should be carefully stirred to prevent its burning, and cooled by standing by in a basin.--Millet Milk. Wash three spoonfuls of millet seed in cold water, and put it into a quart of new milk. Simmer it gently till it becomes moderately thick, and cool it in a basin till wanted for use. All those preparations which require some time in doing, also require the precaution of being carefully stirred, to prevent their burning.--Drinks for young children, in addition to their diet, are best made of milk and water, whey, barley water, pearl barley water, apple water, and toast and water. For Milk and Water, put one third of new milk to two thirds of spring water. This is best drunk cold; but if it must be warmed, it should be by putting warm water to cold milk. It ought not to be made more than milk warm. For Whey, take a quart of new milk before it is cold, and put in as much rennet as will turn it to a clear whey. Let it stand till it is properly turned, and pour it off through a cheesecloth without pressing the curd, that the whey may be the purer. It may be drunk cold, or just warmed by setting it before the fire for a little while. If new milk cannot be had, other milk must be warmed to the degree of new milk.--Barley Water is made of a handful of common barley well washed, and simmered in three pints of water, till of a proper thickness for use; but the longer the barley boils, the thinner the liquor will become. Pearl Barley Water is made of an ounce of pearl barley, heated in half a pint of water over the fire in order to clean it. The water is then poured off, and a quart of fresh water added to the pearl barley. Simmer it half an hour, and if it appears too thick, add more water, but let it be kept warm, as any quantity of cold water would damp it too suddenly, and thus tend to spoil it. Both this and barley water may be used cold, or milk warm.--Apple Water. Slice into a jug two or three sound ripe apples, and pour on them a quart of scalding hot water. Let it stand to cool, and it will be fit for use. The apples should not be pared, as it takes off their spirit.--Toast and Water is made of a slice of white bread toasted quite dry, and of a dark brown colour. It is then put into a jug, and spring water poured upon it. After an hour it is fit for use. As all these preparations, both of drinks and spoonmeats, become flat and good for little by long standing, it is better to make only such quantities of them at a time as will soon be used. When they are warmed up, no more should be done at once than is just sufficient for the occasion, as repeated warming injures the nutritious quality of every thing. When it can be avoided it is better not to set things on the fire to warm them up, but to place them before or on the side of the fire. Care however must be taken not to let them dry and scorch, as it makes them very strong and unwholesome. Some earthenware vessel should be used for this purpose, as less liable to produce an injurious effect. A very good method of warming things is by setting them in a basin over boiling water, or by placing them in it. SPRAINS. These generally proceed from some external injury, attended with pain, swelling, and inflammation. A fomentation of vinegar, or camphorated spirits of wine, if applied immediately, will generally be sufficient: if not, a few drops of laudanum should be added. The fomentation should be frequently renewed, and the sprained part kept in a state of rest and relaxation. SPRATS. When quite good and fresh, their gills are of a fine red, their eyes and whole body beautifully bright. After being scaled and cleaned, they should be fastened in rows by a skewer run through the heads; then broiled, and served up hot and hot. SPRATS LIKE ANCHOVIES. Salt them well, and let the salt drain from them. In twenty-four hours wipe them dry, but do not wash them. Mix four ounces of common salt, an ounce of bay salt, an ounce of saltpetre, a quarter of an ounce of sal-prunella, and half a tea-spoonful of cochineal, all in the finest powder. Sprinkle it amongst three quarts of the fish, and pack them in two stone jars. Keep them in a cool place, fastened down with a bladder. These artificial anchovies are pleasant on bread and butter, but the genuine should be used for sauce. SPRING FRUIT PUDDING. Peel and wash four dozen sticks of rhubarb, put them into the stewpan with a lemon, a little cinnamon, and sweeten the whole with moist sugar. Set it over the fire, and reduce it to a marmalade. Pass it through a hair sieve, add the yolks of four eggs and one white, a quarter of a pound of fresh butter, half a nutmeg, and the peel of a lemon grated. Beat all well together, line the inside of a pie dish with good puff paste, put in the pudding, and bake it half an hour. SPRING SOUP. Put a pint of peas into a saucepan with some chervil, purslain, lettuce, sorrel, parsley, three or four onions, and a piece of butter. Shake them over the fire a few minutes, add warm water in proportion to the vegetables, and stew them till they are well done. Strain off the soup, and pulp the vegetables through a tammis or sieve. Heat the pulp with three parts of the soup, mix six yolks of eggs with the remainder of it, and thicken it over the fire. When ready to serve, add this to the soup, and season the whole with salt. SPROUTS. Before the sprouts of greens are boiled, trim and wash them very nicely, and drain them in a cullender. Then put them into boiling water, with some salt thrown in, and sprinkle a little more upon the sprouts. Boil them very fast, and clear off any scum that may arise. When the stalks are quite tender, drain the sprouts off directly into a cullender, or they will lose both their flavour and colour. Serve them up laid neatly in the dish with a fork, as that will not break them like a spoon. Borecole and Brussel sprouts, like all the cabbage species, should be boiled in plenty of water, changing it when about half done, and boiling them well. SPRUCE BEER. Pour sixteen gallons of warm water into a barrel, with twelve pounds of molasses, and half a pound of the essence of spruce. When cool, add a pint of yeast, stir it well for two or three days, and put it into stone bottles. Wire down the corks, pack the bottles in saw dust, and the liquor will ripen in about a fortnight. SQUAB PIE. Prepare apples as for other pies, and lay them in rows with mutton chops. Shred some onion, and sprinkle it among them, and also some sugar.--Another. Make a good crust, and sheet your dish all over; lay a layer of pippins, and strew sugar over them; cut a loin of mutton into steaks, season them with pepper and salt; lay a layer of steaks, then pippins; then lay some onions sliced thin on the apples, then the rest of your mutton, and apples and onions over all; pour in a pint of water, and lid your pye; let it be well baked. STAFFORDSHIRE BEEF STEAKS. Beat them a little with a rollingpin, then flour and season, and fry them of a fine light brown, with sliced onions. Lay the steaks into a stewpan, and pour over them as much boiling water as will serve for sauce. Stew them very gently for half an hour, and add a spoonful of ketchup or walnut liquor, before they are served up. STAFFORDSHIRE SYLLABUB. Put into a bowl a pint of cider, and a glass of brandy, with sugar and nutmeg. Pour into it some warm milk, from a large tea-pot, held up high, and moved over it. STAINS BY ACIDS. Wet the injured part, and lay on some salt of wormwood; then rub it, without diluting it with more water. Or let the cloth imbibe a little water without dipping, and hold the part over a lighted match at a due distance. The spots will be removed by the sulphureous gas. Another way is to tie up some pearl ash in the stained part, then scrape some soap into cold soft water to make a lather, and boil the linen till the stain disappears. STAINS IN MAHOGANY. If any kind of furniture get stained with ink, dilute half a tea-spoonful of oil of vitriol with a large spoonful of water, and touch the stained part with a feather dipped in the liquid. It must be watched, and not suffered to remain too long, or it will leave a white mark. It is better to rub it quick, and to moisten it again, if the stain be not entirely removed. STAINING OF BONE. This article must first be prepared, by being steeped for several days in a mixture of roche alum, vitriol, verdigris, and copper filings, infused in white wine vinegar. When the ingredients are dissolved, the mixture may be boiled with the bone in it, and it will take a fine green colour. By infusing brazil wood, French berries, or indigo in the vinegar, with a little roche alum, either red, yellow, or blue may be produced. Either bone, ivory, or wood, may be coloured in this manner. STAINING OF PARCHMENT. Paper or parchment may be stained of a green colour, by gradually dissolving some copper filings in aqua-fortis, or the spirits of salt, putting in the filings till the ebullition ceases. A solution of verdigris in vinegar, or the crystals of verdigris in water, will answer the same purpose. A fine crimson stain may be produced by a tincture of the Indian lake, made by infusing the lake several days in spirits of wine, and pouring off the tincture from the dregs. A beautiful yellow may be formed from the tincture of turmeric, made in the same way. If the colours be wanted of a deeper cast, arnatto or dragon's blood may be added to the tincture. STAINING OF WOOD. To stain wood of a mahogany colour, put it into a mixture of oil of turpentine and pounded dragon's blood, and let it stand an hour over a slow fire. When taken off the fire, the wood may remain in the liquor all night. The dye may be made stronger or weaker, by using more or less of dragon's blood, and by a greater or less degree of digestion and boiling. The best wood for this purpose is plane tree, because it may easily be sawn and polished, and is beautifully veined and spotted. To stain wood a fine black, drop a little oil of vitriol into a small quantity of water, rub it on the wood, and hold it to the fire. It will then become a fine black, and receive a beautiful polish. STALKS OF BEET LEAVES. Trim and well wash the stalks of green and white beet leaves, and boil them in water, moving them frequently, to prevent the upper ones from turning black. When done enough, drain them in a cullender. Make a white sauce with a little flour and water, a piece of butter, some pepper and salt, and a taste of vinegar. Thicken this over the fire, and put in the stalks to stew gently for a few minutes, to give them a flavour. If the butter oils, it is a sign that the sauce is too thick. In this case add another spoonful or two of water, and shake the stewpan till the sauce recovers it appearance. STARCH is a substance which is extracted from wheaten flour, by washing it in water. All farinaceous seeds, and the roots of most vegetables, afford this substance in a greater or less degree; but it is most easily obtained from the flour of wheat, by moistening any quantity thereof with a little water, and kneading it with the hand into a tough paste: this being washed with water, by letting fall upon it a very slender stream, the water will be rendered turbid as it runs off, in consequence of the fecula or starch which it extracts from the flour, and which will subside when the water is allowed to stand at rest. The starch so obtained, when dried in the sun, or by a stove, is usually concreted into small masses of a long figure and columnar shape, which have a fine white colour, scarcely any smell, and very little taste. If kept dry, starch in this state continues a long time uninjured, although exposed to the air. It is not soluble in cold water; but forms a thick paste with boiling-hot water, and when this paste is allowed to cool, it becomes semi-transparent and gelatinous, and being dried, becomes brittle, and somewhat resembles gum. Starch, although found in all nutritive grains, is only perfect when they have attained maturity, for before this it is in a state approaching to mucilage, and so mixed with saccharine matter and essential oils, that it cannot be extracted in sufficient purity to concrete into masses. Wheat, or such parts of it as are not used for human food, are usually employed for manufacturing starch, such as the refuse wheat and bran; but when the finest starch is required, good grain must be used. This, being well cleaned, and sometimes coarsely bruised, is put into wooden vessels full of water to ferment: to assist the fermentation, the vessels are exposed to the greatest heat of the sun, and the water is changed twice a day, during eight or twelve days, according to the season. When the grain bursts easily under the finger, and gives out a milky white liquor when squeezed, it is judged to be sufficiently softened and fermented. In this state, the grains are taken out of the water by a sieve, and put into a canvas sack, and the husks are separated and rubbed off, by beating and rubbing the sack upon a plank: the sack is then put into a tub filled with cold water, and trodden or beaten till the water becomes milky and turbid, from the starch which it takes up from the grain. A scum sometimes swims upon the surface of the water, which must be carefully removed; the water is then run off through a fine sieve into a settling-vessel, and fresh water is poured upon the grains, two or three times, till it will not extract any more starch, or become coloured by the grain. The water in the settling-vessels being left at rest, precipitates the starch which it held suspended; and to get rid of the saccharine matter, which was also dissolved by the water, the vessels are exposed to the sun, which soon produces the acetous fermentation, and takes up such matter as renders the starch more pure and white. During this process, the starch for sale in the shops receives its colour, which consists of smalt mixed with water and a small quantity of alum, and is thoroughly incorporated with the starch; but this starch is unfit for medicinal purposes. When the water becomes completely sour, it is poured gently off from the starch, which is washed several times afterwards with clean water, and at last is placed to drain upon linen cloths supported by hurdles, and the water drips through, leaving the starch upon the cloths, in which it is pressed or wrung, to extract as much as possible of the water; and the remainder is evaporated, by cutting the starch into pieces, which are laid up in airy places, upon a floor of plaster or of slightly burnt bricks, until it becomes completely dried from all moisture, partly by the access of warm air, and partly by the floor imbibing the moisture. In winter time, the heat of a stove must be employed to effect the drying. Lastly, the pieces of dried starch are scraped, to remove the outside crust, which makes inferior starch, and these pieces are broken into smaller pieces for sale. The grain which remains in the sack after the starch is extracted, contains the husks and the glutinous part of the wheat, which are found very nutritious food for cattle. The French manufacturers, according to "Les Arts et Metiers," pursue a more economical method, as they are enabled, by employing an acid water for the fermentation in the first instance, to use the most inferior wheat, and the bran or husks of wheat. This water they prepare, by putting a pailful of warm water into a tub, with about two pounds of leaven, such as some bakers use to make their dough rise or ferment. The water stands two days, and is then stirred up, and half a pailful of warm water added to it; then being left to settle till it is clear, it is poured off for use. To use this water in the fermentation of the materials, a quantity of it is poured into a tub, and about as much fair water is poured upon it as will fill the tub half full: the remainder of the tub is then filled up with the materials, which are one half refuse wheat, and the other half bran. In this tub it continues to steep and ferment during ten days, or less, according to the strength of the leaven-water, and according to the disposition of the weather for fermentation. When the materials have been sufficiently steeped, or fermented, an unctuous matter, which is the oil of the grain, will be seen swimming on the surface, having been thrown up by the fermentation. This must be scummed off; and the fermented grain, being taken out of the tub, is put into a fine hair sieve, placed over a settling-tub, when fair water is poured upon it, and washed through the sieve into the tub; by which means the starch is carried through the sieve with the water, of which about six times the quantity of the grain are used. The water stands in the settling tub for a day, and becomes clear at top; when it is carefully laded out of the tub, leaving at the bottom a white sediment, which is the starch. The water which is taken off is sour, and is called _sure_ water: this is the proper leaven for the first steeping of the materials. The starch now obtained must be rendered marketable; for which purpose, as much water is poured upon it as will enable it to be pounded and broken up with a shovel, and then the tub is filled up with fair water. Two days after this, the water is laded out from the tub, and the starch appears in the bottom, but covered over with a dark-coloured and inferior kind of starch, which is taken off, and employed for fattening hogs. The remainder of the sediment, which is good starch, is washed several times, to remove all the inferior starch; and when this is done, about four inches of thick starch should be found at the bottom of each tub: but the quantity varies, according to the goodness of the meal or bran which has been used. It is evident that the refuse wheat, when employed for making starch, ought to afford more, the whole being used, than the bran or husks; but the starch so extracted is always of an inferior quality to that which is extracted from the bran of good wheat, particularly in the whiteness of its colour. The starch in the different tubs is brought together into one, and there worked up with as much water as will dissolve it into a thin paste, which is put into a silk sieve, and strained through with fresh water. This water is settled in a tub, and afterwards poured off, but before it is so completely settled as to lose all its white colour: this renders the starch which is deposited, still finer and whiter; and the starch which is deposited by the water so poured off, is of a more common quality. The starch, thus purified, is taken out of the bottom of the tubs, and put into wicker-baskets, about eighteen inches long and ten deep, rounded at the corners, and lined with linen cloths, which are not fastened to the baskets. The water drips from the starch through the cloths for a day, and the baskets are then carried up to apartments at the top of the house, where the floor is made of very clean white plaster; and the windows are thrown open, to admit a current of air. Here the baskets are turned downwards upon the plaster-floor, and the linen cloths, not being fastened to the baskets, follow the starch, and when taken off, leave loaves, or cakes of starch, which are left to dry a little, and are then broken into smaller pieces, and left on the plaster-floor, till very dry. But if the weather is at all humid, the starch is removed from the plaster-floor and spread out upon shelves, in an apartment which is warmed by a stove, and there it remains till perfectly dry. The pieces are afterwards scraped, to remove the outside crust, which makes common starch; and the scraped pieces being again broken small, the starch is carried to the stove, and spread out to a depth of three inches, on hurdles covered with cloths. The starch must be turned over every morning and evening, to prevent it from turning to a greenish colour, which it would otherwise do. Those manufacturers who are not provided with a stove, make use of the top of a baker's oven to spread the starch upon; and after being thoroughly dried here, it is ready for sale. Starch may be made from potatoes, by soaking them about an hour in water, and taking off their roots and fibres, then rubbing them quite clean by a strong brush: after this they are reduced to a pulp, by grating them in water. This pulp is to be collected in a tub, and mixed up with a large quantity of clear water: at the same time, another clean tub must be provided; and a hair sieve, not too fine, must be supported over it by two wooden rails extended across the tub. The pulp and water are thrown into the sieve, and the flour of starch is carried through with the water; fresh water must then be poured on, till it runs through quite clear. The refuse pulp which remains in the sieve, being boiled in water, makes an excellent food for animals; and the quantity of this pulp is near seven-eighths of all the potatoes employed. The liquor which has passed through the sieve is turbid, and of a darkish colour, from the extractive matter which is dissolved in it. When it is suffered to rest for five or six hours, all this matter deposits or settles to the bottom, and the liquor which remains is to be poured off as useless; and a large quantity of fresh water is thrown upon the flour, and stirred up: it is then settled for a day, and the water being poured off, the flour will be found to have again settled in a whiter state. But to improve it, another quantity of water is poured on, and mixed up with it; in which state it is passed through a fine silk sieve, to arrest any small quantity of the pulp which may have escaped the first hair sieve. The whole must afterwards be suffered to stand quiet, till the flour is entirely settled, and the water above become perfectly clear; but if the water has any sensible colour or taste, the flour must be washed again with fresh water, for it is absolutely necessary that none of the extractive matter be suffered to remain with it. The flour, when thus obtained pure, and drained from the water, may be taken out of the tub with a wooden shovel, and placed upon wicker-frames covered with paper, to be dried in some situation properly defended from dust. When the manufacture of starch from potatoes is attempted in a large way, some kind of mill must be used to reduce them to a pulp, as the grating of them by hand is too tedious an operation. A mill invented by M. Baumé is very complete for this purpose. In its general structure it resembles a large coffee-mill: the grater consists of a cone of iron plate, about seven inches in diameter, and eight inches in height, the exterior surface of which is made toothed, like a rasp, by piercing holes through the plate from the inside. This cone is fixed upon a verticle axle, with a handle at the top to turn it by; and is mounted on the pivots of the axle, within a hollow cylinder of plate-iron, toothed withinside like the outside of the cone; the smallest end of the interior cone being uppermost, and the lower or larger end being as large as the interior diameter of the hollow cylinder. A conical hopper is fixed to the hollow cylinder, round the top of it, into which the potatoes are thrown; and falling down into the space between the outside of the cone and the inside of the hollow cylinder, they are ground, and reduced to a pulp, when the interior cone is turned round by its handle; and as the lower part of the cone is fitted close to the interior diameter of the cylinder, the potatoes must be ground to a fine pulp before they can pass through between the two. The machine, when at work, is placed in a tub filled with water; and as fast as the grinding proceeds, the pulp mixes regularly with the water, ready for the process before described. Poland starch is reckoned the best: its quality may be judged of by the fineness of the grain, its being very brittle, and of a good colour. The price of starch depends upon that of flour; and when bread is cheap, starch may be bought to advantage. If it be of good quality it will keep for some years, covered close, and laid up in a dry warm room. In the year 1796, lord William Murray obtained a patent for manufacturing starch from horse-chesnuts. The method was to take the horse-chesnuts out of the outward green prickly husk, and either by hand, with a knife or tool, or else with a mill adapted for the purpose, the brown rind was carefully removed, leaving the chesnuts perfectly white, and without the smallest speck. In this state the nuts were rasped or ground to a pulp with water, and the pulp washed with water through a coarse horse-hair sieve, and twice afterwards through finer sieves, with a constant addition of clear cold water, till all the starch was washed clean from the pulp which remained in the sieve; and the water being settled, deposited the starch, which was afterwards repeatedly washed, purified, and dried, in the same manner as the potatoe-starch before described. We are not informed if this manufacture has been carried into effect. The sour, nauseous, milky liquor obtained in the process of starch-making, appears, upon analysis, to contain acetous acid, ammonia, alcohol, gluten, and phosphate of lime. The office of the acid is to dissolve the gluten and phosphate of lime, and thus to separate them from the starch. Starch is used along with smalt, or stone-blue, to stiffen and clear linen. The powder of it is also used to whiten and powder the hair. It is also used by the dyers, to dispose their stuffs to take colours the better. Starch is sometimes used instead of sugar-candy for mixing with the colours that are used in strong gum-water, to make them work more freely, and to prevent their cracking. It is also used medicinally for the same intentions with the viscous substance which the flour of wheat forms with milk, in fluxes and catarrhs, under various forms of powders, mixtures, &c. A drachm of starch, with three ounces of any agreeable simple water, and a little sugar, compose an elegant jelly, of which a spoonful may be taken every hour or two. These gelatinous mixtures are likewise an useful injection in some diarrhoeas, particularly where the lower intestines have their natural mucus rubbed off by the flux, or are constantly irritated by the acrimony of the matter. STEAKS FRIED. Moisten the pan with butter, put in some beef steaks, and when done, lay them on a dish. Put to the gravy that comes out of them, a glass of port wine, half an anchovy, a sliced shalot with nutmeg, pepper, and salt. Give it a boil in the pan, pour it over the steaks, and send them hot to table. In a plainer way, put a little flour and water into the pan with the gravy when the steaks are taken out, adding a spoonful of ketchup, an onion or shalot. The wine and anchovy may be omitted. Garnish with scraped horse-radish round the dish. STEAK PIE. Raise a crust pretty deep and thick. Divide a breast or neck of mutton into steaks, beat and season them with nutmeg, pepper, and salt. Add some sweet herbs cut very fine, two onions sliced, the yolks of three or four hard eggs minced, and two spoonfuls of capers. Scatter these among the steaks as they are laid into the pie. Put on the top crust, and let the pie soak in a moderately hot oven for two hours or longer, according to its size. Have some gravy ready to put into it through a funnel, when it is to be served up. STEAK PUDDING. Make a paste of suet or dripping and flour, roll it out, and line a basin with it. Season the meat, and put it in. Cover it with the paste, pinch it close round the edge, tie it up in a cloth, and boil it two hours, but be careful not to break it.--Another way. Make a good paste, with suet shred very fine, and flour; mix it up with cold water, and a little salt, and make your crust pretty stiff; about two pounds of suet to a quarter of a peck of flour. Let the steaks be either beef or mutton, well seasoned with pepper and salt; make it up like an apple-pudding, tie it in a cloth tight, and put it into the water boiling. If it be a large pudding, it will take four or five hours; if a middling one, three hours. STEAKS ROLLED. After beating them to make them tender, spread them over with any quantity of high seasoned forcemeat. Then roll them up, and skewer them tight. Fry the steaks in nice dripping, till they become of a delicate brown. Then take them out of the fat in which they were fried, and put them into a stewpan with some good gravy, a spoonful of port wine, and some ketchup. When sufficiently stewed, serve them up with the gravy, and a few pickled mushrooms. STEAM. Steam is employed to great advantage for culinary purposes. It is made to communicate with vessels in the form of boilers, as a substitute for having fires under them, which is a great advantage, both in the economy of fuel, and in avoiding at the same time the nuisance of ashes and smoke. The most convenient application of steam for culinary purposes is, when it directly acts upon the substance to be heated. This has been generally effected by placing the substance, whether meat or vegetables, in a vessel without water, and allowing the steam to enter and condense upon it. The most convenient apparatus of this kind we have yet heard of, consists of a cast-iron plate about thirty inches or three feet square, standing horizontally in a recess in the wall, like a table. Round the edge of this plate is a groove, about half an inch wide and two inches deep. Into this groove fits an inverted tin vessel, like a dish-cover. This is capable of being elevated and depressed by a pulley and chain, having a counterpoise, in order to expose the table at any time. The steam comes under the table and enters in the centre. The dishes to receive the heat are placed on any part within the groove, the steam being common to all. The water resulting from the condensation runs into the groove, and at a point short of the top runs off. The water which remains forms a complete water-lute, to prevent the escape of steam. The table being placed in a recess, like a common stone hearth, a small flue is placed over it to take away any steam that may escape when the cover is lifted up. The great quantity of hot water required in a scullery should be perpetually kept up by a supply of steam. For this purpose a large cylindrical vessel of cast-iron should be elevated in a corner of the scullery, in order that water may be drawn from it by a cock. This vessel should be connected from the bottom with a cold-water cistern, the bottom of which is level with the top of the cylinder, by which the latter is kept constantly full. The hot-water cylinder is closed firmly at the top, and therefore, when the air is allowed to escape, the water rises to the top. If now a pipe be connected with the top, coming down to where it is to be drawn off, if any portion is drawn out here, as much will come in at the bottom of the cylinder from the reservoir above. So far we have described this cylinder without its steam-vessel. Within this cylinder, and about the middle, is a distinct vessel, nearly of the width of the cylinder; but having a free space round the inner vessel about an inch wide. The depth of the inner vessel must be about one-sixth that of the outer one. This inner vessel must have no connection with the outer one, and must be so water-tight, that although it is surrounded with the water of the outer one, none should get in. The inner vessel is on one side connected by a pipe with a steam-boiler, having another pipe to allow the condensed water to run off, which may be preserved as distilled water, and is valuable for many purposes. The heat arising from the condensation is communicated to the water in the outer vessel, the hottest being at the top, where the mouth of the exit-pipe is placed. When, therefore, a portion of hot water is drawn from the cock, the pipe of which comes from the top of the vessel immediately under the cover, an equal quantity comes in at the bottom from the reservoir. This useful apparatus is the invention of an ingenious economist of Derby, and is at present in use in his kitchen. The art of boiling vegetables of all kinds in steam instead of water, might probably be managed to advantage, as a greater degree of heat might be thus given them, by contriving to increase the heat of the steam after it has left the water; and thus the vegetable mucilage in roots and seeds, as in potatoes and flour puddings, as well as in their leaves, stems, and flower-cups, might be rendered probably more nutritive, and perhaps more palatable; but that many of the leaves of vegetables, as the summits of cabbage-sprouts, lose their green colour by being boiled in steam, and look like blanched vegetables. Steam has likewise lately been applied in gardening to the purpose of forcing plants of different kinds in the winter season, in order to have their produce at an early period, as to the cucumber, and some other vegetables of a somewhat similar nature; but the exact manner of its application in this intention, so far as we know, has not yet been communicated to the public; it is, however, by some mode of flues, pipes, and other contrivances for conveying and containing it, so as that its heat may be uninterruptedly, equally, and regularly afforded to the roots of the plants which it is designed to push forward into the fruiting state. It is said to have been used in some instances in different parts of Lancashire with great success. But how far the expense and advantage of such a method may admit of and encourage its being introduced into general practice, have not, probably, yet been well or fully ascertained. If it should be found capable of perfectly succeeding in this use, on more full and correct experience, it will, however, constitute not only a neat and clean, but an elegant mode of forcing plants into fruit at early seasons. STEAMED POTATOES. The potatoes must be well washed, but not pared, and put into the steamer when the water boils. Moderate sized potatoes will require three quarters of an hour to do them properly. They should be taken up as soon as they are done enough, or they will become watery. STEEL. To transform iron into steel, put four ounces of cast iron into a crucible, with a considerable degree of heat. While in a state of fusion, immerse in it a polished iron wire of some thickness, and keep it there for some time, but not so long as to fuse it. When cold, the wire will be so hard as to resist the action of a common file, being converted into steel. STEEL RUST. The prevention of rust, on such articles of furniture as are made of polished steel, is an object of great importance in domestic economy. The cutlers in Sheffield, when they have given a knife or razor blade the requisite degree of polish, rub them with powdered quick-lime, in order to prevent them from tarnishing; and it seems that articles made of polished steel are dipped in lime water, before they are sent into the retail market. But when steel has contracted rust, the method of cleaning and polishing it is to oil the rusty parts, and let it remain in that state two or three days. Then wipe it dry with clean rags, and polish with emery or pumice stone, or hard wood. After the oil is cleared off, a little fresh lime finely powdered will often be found sufficient; but where a higher polish is required, it will be necessary to use a paste composed of finely levigated bloodstone and spirits of wine. STEEL STOVES. To preserve them effectually from rust, beat into three pounds of unsalted lard, two drams of camphor sliced thin, till the whole is absorbed. Then take as much black lead as will make it of the colour of broken steel; dip a rag into it, rub it thick on the stove, and the steel will never rust, even if wetted. When the stove is to be used, the grease must be washed off with hot water, and the steel be dried before polishing. STEWED ARTICHOKES. Wash and pare some Jerusalem artichokes, and part them in two. Boil them in a small quantity of gravy till almost done, and the liquor nearly consumed. Then add some cream, a piece of butter rolled in flour and a little salt, all in proportion to the number of artichokes. Stew them gently for ten minutes, and serve them up with sippets of white bread fried. STEWED ARTICHOKE BOTTOMS. Boil some artichokes till about half done, and then take off the leaves and the choke. Trim the bottoms nicely, and stew them gently in some gravy, with a little lemon-juice or vinegar, and some salt, till they are quite tender. Before serving them up, wipe them dry, then lay them in a dish with sippets of toasted or fried bread laid round it, and pour some strong clear gravy over them. Dried artichoke bottoms may also be used for stewing, but should first be soaked a little while in warm water. STEWED BREAST OF VEAL. Take a nice breast of veal, cut off the thin end, and boil it down for your sauce, with a faggot of sweet herbs, an onion stuck with three cloves, two blades of mace, some whole pepper and salt; put to it a quart of water, and let it stew gently till half is wasted, then raise the skin off your breast of veal, and make a forcemeat of the sweetbread first parboiled, a few crumbs of bread, a little beef suet, and some parsley shred very fine; season it with pepper, salt, and nutmeg; moisten it with a spoonful of cream, and an egg; mix all well together, and force your veal; skewer it down close, dredge it over with flour, tie it up in a clean cloth, and let it boil an hour and a half. If your gravy is done, strain it off, and take off the fat very clean; blanch and beard half a pint of oysters, a gill of pickled mushrooms, a little lemon-peel shred very fine: put this to your gravy, and thicken it with a piece of butter rolled in flour; fry six or eight large oysters, dipped in batter for garnish. When your veal is enough, dish it up, and pour your sauce over. Garnish your dish with lemon, oysters, and barberries. STEWED BRISKET OF BEEF. Stew nine pounds of brisket of beef, in two gallons of water, for two or three hours over night. When made sufficiently tender, take out the bones, and carefully skim off the fat. Boil in some of the liquor a few carrots, turnips, onions, celery, and white cabbage, till they become quite tender. Add some salt, and the remainder of the broth to the beef, and stew all together till sufficiently done. STEWED CALF'S LIVER LARDED. Take a calf's liver, and lard it, and put it into a stewpan, with some water, a bundle of sweet herbs, an onion, a blade of mace, some whole pepper, and a little salt; cover it close, and let it stew till it is enough; then take up your liver, and put it into the dish you intend; cover it over, and take out your herbs and spice; skim off all the fat very clean; put in a piece of butter rolled in flour; boil it till it is of a proper thickness; pour it over your liver, and send it to table garnished with lemon. STEWED CARDOONS. Cut them into pieces, not more than five or six inches long. Take off the outward skin, and wash and scald them. Put them into a stewpan, with gravy enough to cover them, and let them stew gently till almost done, and the liquor nearly exhausted. Add a small quantity of fresh gravy, and continue stewing them gently till quite tender. Serve them up with sippets of toasted bread round the edge of the dish. If the gravy is not sufficiently seasoned, add a little salt and cayenne. STEWED CARP. Scale and clean the fish, and preserve the roe. Lay the carp in a stewpan, with a rich beef-gravy, an onion, eight cloves, a dessert-spoonful of Jamaica pepper, the same of black pepper, and a glass of port or cider. Simmer it closely covered; when nearly done, add two anchovies chopped fine, a dessert-spoonful of made mustard, a little fine walnut ketchup, and a bit of butter rolled in flour. Shake it, and let the gravy boil a few minutes. Serve with sippets of fried bread, the roe fried, and a good deal of horseradish and lemon.--Another way. Scale your carp, then gut and wash them very clean, and dry them in a cloth; put a piece of butter into a stewpan, when it is hot, fry them as quick as you can, till they are of a fine brown; boil the roes, then fry them of a fine gold colour; take them up, and keep them hot before the fire: then put to your carp half port wine and half water, as much as will cover them a little more than half way; put in some thyme, parsley, a piece of lemon-peel, whole pepper, a few cloves, a blade or two of mace, an onion, some horse-radish sliced, and two spoonfuls of ketchup; put on your cover, and let it stew very gently, till your fish is enough; do not turn them in the pan, but with a ladle take some of the liquor, and pour over your fish every now and then, while they are stewing, then cover them close again: When they are done enough, take them out of the pan with a slice, and take care not to break them; put them into the dish you intend to send them to table in, then strain the liquor, and thicken it up with a piece of butter rolled in flour; let it boil till it is pretty thick, pour the sauce over the fish, and garnish your dish with the roes, lemon, and horseradish, and send it to table. You may squeeze a little lemon into the sauce, if you like it, and add oysters fried in butter; or you may stew them in cider, instead of wine, and it is very little inferior. Tench may be done the same way.--To stew carp white. Scale and gut your fish very clean, save the roes and melts, then stove them in some good white broth; season them with mace, salt, whole pepper, an onion stuck with cloves, a faggot of sweet herbs, and about half a pint of white wine; cover them close, and let them stew gently over a charcoal fire. Dip the roes and melts in the yolk of an egg; flour them, and fry them of a fine brown, and have fried parsley and sippets ready. When the fish is near done, take out the onion and faggot, beat up the yolks of four or five eggs, take up the fish carefully, and put it into the dish you serve it in; pour off the sauce, then strain it into a stewpan, and put in your eggs; keep it stirring till it is as fine as cream, then pour it over the dish. Garnish with the roes, fried parsley, sippets, horseradish scraped, and lemon: send it as hot as possible to table.--A plain way to stew carp. Clean your carp very well, cut them in two, put them into a stewpan, with a little onion shred fine, pepper, salt, a little beaten mace, a few capers chopped small, and some crusts of bread chipped in. Then pour in a gill of white, and a gill of red wine, and as much water as will just cover them; cover the pan close, and let them stew till they are enough, and the sauce grown thick. Serve it up with lemon and horseradish for garnish. STEWED CARROTS. Half boil, scrape them nicely, and slice them into a stewpan. Add half a tea-cupful of weak broth, the same quantity of cream, with pepper and salt. Simmer till the carrots are quite tender, but not broken. Before serving, warm them up with a bit of butter rubbed in flour. Chopped parsley may be added, if approved, ten minutes before serving. STEWED CELERY. Wash six heads, and strip off the outer leaves. Either divide or leave them whole, according to their size, and cut them into lengths of four inches. Put them into a stewpan with a cup of broth, or weak gravy, and stew them tender. Add two spoonfuls of cream, and a little flour and butter seasoned with pepper, salt, and nutmeg, and simmer them all together. STEWED CHICKENS. Cut two chickens into quarters; wash them clean, and put them into a stewpan, with half a pint of red wine, and a gill of water, an onion, a faggot of sweet herbs, seasoned with mace, pepper, and salt; cover them close, and let them stew half an hour, then take the quantity of an egg of butter rolled in flour; take out the onion and sweet herbs; shake it round till it is of a good thickness, and take off all the scum very clean: dish it up garnished with lemon.--To stew chickens for a tender stomach. Take two nice chickens, and half boil them; then take them up into a small soup-dish; separate all the joints, and add three or four spoonfuls of the liquor they are boiled in, with a little beaten mace, and salt; then cover them close with another dish, and keep in all the steam; set it over a clear stove, and let it stew till the chickens are enough, and send them hot to table in the same dish they were stewed in. STEWED COD. Cut a cod in slices, as you would for crimping, lay it in a clean stewpan; season it with nutmeg, a little mace finely beaten, pepper, and salt, and a bundle of sweet herbs; then pour in white wine and water an equal quantity, just to cover it: put on the cover, and let it simmer for six or eight minutes; skim it very clean, put in half a pint of shrimps clean picked, a good piece of butter rolled in flour, and the juice of a lemon; cover it, and shake your pan round gently: as soon as it begins to boil, take off all the scum as it rises: if your sauce is of a proper thickness, your fish will be enough; wipe the rim of the pan very clean, and slide the fish into your dish, taking care not to break it. Garnish with lemon and scraped horse-radish.--Another way. Lay the slices into a large stewpan, so that they need not be laid one upon another. Season with nutmeg, pepper, and salt, a bundle of sweet herbs, and an onion. Add half a pint of white wine, and a quarter of a pint of water. Simmer it gently a few minutes, squeeze in a lemon, add a few oysters, the liquor strained, a piece of butter rolled in flour, and a little mace. Cover it close, and let it stew gently, shaking the pan often. When done take out the herbs and onions, and serve it up with the sauce poured over it. STEWED CUCUMBERS. Slice them thick, or halve and divide them into two lengths. Strew over them some salt and pepper, and sliced onions: add a little broth, or a bit of butter. Simmer very slowly, and put in a little flour and butter before serving.--Another way. Slice the onions, and cut the cucumbers large. Flour and fry them in butter, then stew them in good broth or gravy, and skim off the fat. STEWED DUCK. Half roast a duck, put it into a stewpan with a pint of beef gravy, a few leaves of sage and mint cut small, pepper and salt, and a small bit of onion shred as fine as possible. Simmer them a quarter of an hour, skim it clean, and add nearly a quart of green peas. Cover the stewpan close, and simmer near half an hour longer. Put in a piece of butter and a little flour, give it one boil, and serve all together in a dish. STEWED EELS. Melt an ounce of butter in a stewpan, add a handful of sorrel cut in large pieces, a dozen sage leaves finely minced, five pounds of eels cut in pieces, and seasoned with pepper and salt. Then put in two anchovies boned and minced, half a nutmeg, and half a pint of water. Stew them gently together for half an hour, take out the onion, squeeze in a lemon, and lay toasted bread round the dish. Half this quantity will be sufficient for a small dish.--Another way. Take what quantity of eels you please; after they are cleaned, fry them in butter, then pour the butter clear off; put into your pan a bundle of sweet herbs, an onion stuck with two or three cloves, a blade of mace, some whole pepper, and a little salt; then add a pint of red wine and water, and let them stew till they are tender: put the eels into a dish, strain off the sauce, and thicken it up with a piece of butter rolled in flour, or a piece of thickened burnt butter. Garnish your dish with horse-radish and lemon.--Another way. Having cleaned your eels very well, cut them in pieces, put them into a stewpan, with a bundle of sweet herbs, an onion stuck with cloves, mace, whole pepper, and a little salt; put to them a gill of white wine, half a pint of red, and a gill of water; cover them close, and let them stew till tender; strain off the gravy, thicken it up, and send it to table.--To stew an eel whole. Take a fine large eel, clean it well, force the inside with crumbs of bread, an anchovy cut fine, salt, pepper, a little nutmeg, and two or three oysters bruised, with some parsley shred fine; fill the inside as full as you can, sew it up with fine thread, turn it round, and run a small skewer through it, to keep it in its folds; put it into a small stewpan, with an onion stuck with cloves, and a faggot of herbs; put over it red wine; cover the pan down very close, and let it stew gently till tender; take out the onion, &c. put the eel into a dish, and a plate over it; thicken the sauce with butter rolled in flour, and squeeze a little lemon into the plate. If you have any forcemeat left, make them into small balls, and fry them; put them into the sauce, give them a toss, and pour it over the eel. Garnish the dish with fried oysters, horseradish, and lemon. STEWED ENDIVE. Trim off all the green parts of the endive, wash and cut into pieces, and scald it till about half done. Drain it well, chop it a little, put it into a stewpan with a little strong gravy, and stew it gently till quite tender. Season it with some pepper and salt, and serve it up as a sauce to any kind of roast meat; or it eats well with potatoes. STEWED FOWL WITH CELERY. Take a fowl or turkey trussed short as for boiling, press down the breast-bone, put it into a clean stewpan, with good veal broth, as much as will cover it; season it with beaten mace, pepper and salt, a faggot of sweet herbs, and an onion; cover it close, and let it boil; in the mean time, take a large bunch of celery, cut all the white part small, and wash it very clean; if your turkey or fowl boils, take out the onion and herbs; scum it very clean, and put in your celery; cover it down close, and let it stew till your celery is very tender, and your fowl likewise; take a clean stewpan, and set it over your stove; take up your fowl or turkey, and keep it hot; pour your celery and sauce into your stewpan; beat up the yolks of two or three eggs in half a pint of cream, and a large spoonful of white wine; stir it till it is of a good thickness, and just at boiling squeeze in a little juice of lemon, or a little mushroom pickle; shake it round, and pour it over your fowl. Garnish your dish with lemon. STEWED FRENCH BEANS. Prepare some young beans as for boiling, and boil them in plenty of water, with salt in it, till they are rather more than half done. Drain them in a cullender, beat up the yolks of three eggs with a quarter of a pint of cream, put them into a stewpan with two ounces of fresh butter, and set it over a slow fire. When hot, put in the beans, with a spoonful of vinegar, and simmer them quite tender, stirring the mixture to keep it from curdling or burning. To stew French beans with gravy, pursue the same method, only instead of the eggs and cream, put half a pint of gravy. Use only half the quantity of butter, and add that rolled in flour, to thicken up the whole after the beans are put in. The vinegar should be omitted, and cayenne and salt added if required. STEWED GIBLETS. After very nicely cleaning goose or duck giblets, and removing the thick membrane from the gizzards, stew them, in a little water. Season them with salt and pepper, and a very small piece of mace. Before serving, give them one boil with a cup of cream, and a piece of butter rubbed in a tea-spoonful of flour. STEWED GREEN PEAS. To a quart of peas add a quart of gravy, two or three lumps of sugar, with pepper and salt. Stew them gently till the peas are quite tender, and if the gravy is not sufficiently thick, add a piece of butter rolled in flour. If the peas are old, half boil them first in hard water, before they are stewed. Whether for young or old peas, the gravy must be strong. To stew them in a mild way, put a pint of young peas into a stewpan, with very little water, and two young lettuces cut small. Stew them gently till the peas are tender, then add four spoonfuls of cream, a lump of sugar, and the yolks of two eggs. Stir the whole together over the fire for a short time, but do not allow it to boil. A little salt should be added before serving up the stew. Another way is to take a quart of young peas, a small onion sliced, two lettuces cut small, and a sprig or two of mint. Put them into a stewpan, adding some salt, a little pepper and mace, and half a pint of hard water. Stew these gently for twenty minutes, then put in a quarter of a pound of butter rolled in flour, and a spoonful of mushroom ketchup. Keep the stewpan over the fire till the peas are quite tender, shaking it frequently, and never suffering them to boil. Receipts for stewing peas might be multiplied to almost any extent, for there is no one preparation in cookery perhaps more varied than this, though without any very material difference. STEWED HARE. Take off the legs and shoulders, cut out the backbone, cut into pieces the meat which comes off the sides, and put all into a stewpan. Add three quarters of a pint of small beer, the same of water, a large onion stuck with cloves, some whole pepper, a slice of lemon, and a little salt. Stew it gently for an hour, close covered, and put to it a quart of gravy. Stew it gradually two hours longer, or till it is quite tender. Take out the hare, rub smooth half a spoonful of flour in a little gravy, add it to the sauce, and boil it up. Then add a little salt and cayenne, and put in the hare again. When heated through, serve it up in a tureen or deep dish, adding port wine if approved. STEWED KNUCKLE OF VEAL. Take a knuckle of veal of about five pounds; wash it clean, and put it into a clean stewpan, with two quarts of water, a faggot of sweet herbs, two blades of mace, an onion stuck with three or four cloves, some whole pepper, and a little salt; put in a crust of the upper part of a loaf, cover it down close, and make it boil, then scum it very clean, and let it just simmer for full two hours. When you take it up, put your veal into the dish first, and strain your broth through a fine sieve over it, then take off all the fat very clean, and put some thin slices of French roll in your dish, and toasted bread cut in dice, in a plate. Serve it up hot. You may boil a quarter of a pound of rice in fair water, till it is very tender; then strain it off; and when you send your veal to table, lay your rice all over it.--Rice is better boiled by itself, for when you boil it with the meat, the scum is apt to discolour it, and make it eat greasy. STEWED LOBSTER. Pick the meat out of the shell, put it into a dish that has a lamp, and rub it down with a bit of butter. Add two spoonfuls of any sort of gravy, one of soy or walnut ketchup, a little salt and cayenne, and a spoonful of port. A lobster thus stewed will have a very fine relish. STEWED MUSCLES. Wash your muscles very clean, then put them into a large stewpan over a good fire; put over them a coarse wet cloth doubled: when they begin to boil, take up the cloth; if the shells are open, take them off the fire, and pick out the fish, beard them, and cut off the tongue: when you have picked about a quart, strain half a pint of the liquor to them, roll two ounces of butter in flour, add a glass of white wine, a little beaten mace, and squeeze in a little lemon juice; let them stew till of a proper thickness, put toasted sippets in the dish, pour in the muscles, and send them to table. Cockles may be done the same way. STEWED MUSHROOMS. The large buttons are best, and the small flaps while the fur is still red. Rub the large buttons with salt and a piece of flannel, cut out the fur, and take off the skin from the others. Sprinkle them with salt, put them into a stewpan, and add some peppercorns. Let it simmer slowly till it is done, then put in a small bit of butter and flour, and two spoonfuls of cream. Give it one boil, and serve up the dish with sippets of bread. STEWED MUTTON CHOPS. Take some chops of the best end of a loin of mutton, or some slices out of the middle part of a leg. Season them with pepper and salt, lay them into a stewpan with some sliced onion, and cover them with water and a little gravy. When done on one side, turn the steaks on the other, and thicken the gravy at the same time with some butter and flour. A little shalot or ketchup, or both, may be added at pleasure. Twenty or twenty-five minutes will stew them, but long stewing will make them hard. STEWED ONIONS. Peel six large onions, fry them gently of a fine brown, but do not blacken them. Then put them into a small stewpan, with a little weak gravy, pepper and salt. Cover and stew them gently two hours, and let them be lightly floured at first. STEWED OX CHEEK. Soak and cleanse a fine cheek the day before it is to be eaten. Put it into a stewpan that will cover close, with three quarts of water; simmer it after it has first boiled up, and been well skimmed. In two hours put in plenty of carrots, leeks, two or three turnips, a bunch of sweet herbs, some whole pepper, and four ounces of allspice. Skim it often, and when the meat is tender, take it out. Let the soup get cold, take off the cake of fat, and serve the soup separately, or with the meat. It should be of a fine brown, which may be done by adding a little burnt sugar, or by frying some onions quite brown with flour, and simmering them with it. This last method improves the flavour of all soups and gravies of the brown sort. If vegetables are not approved, they may be taken out of the soup, and a small roll be toasted, or bread fried and added. Celery is a great addition, and should always be served. When out of season, the seed of it gives quite as good a flavour, boiled in, and strained off.--Another way. Soak an ox cheek three hours, and clean it with plenty of water. Take the meat off the bones, and put it into a stewpan with a large onion, a bunch of sweet herbs, some bruised allspice, pepper and salt. Lay the bones on the top, pour on two or three quarts of water, and cover the pan close with stout paper, or a dish that will fit close. Let it stand eight or ten hours in a slow oven, or simmer it by the side of the fire, or on a hot hearth. When done tender, put the meat into a clean pan, and let it get cold. Take off the cake of fat, and warm the head in pieces in the soup. Serve with any sort of vegetables. STEWED OYSTERS. Open the shells, separate the liquor from the oysters, and wash them from the grit. Strain the liquor, add to the oysters a bit of mace, lemon peel, and a few white peppers. Simmer them very gently, put in some cream, a little flour and butter, and serve them up with sippets. Boiled oysters should be served in the shell, and eaten with cold butter. STEWED PARSNIPS. Boil the parsnips in milk and water, or milk alone, till fully half done. Slice and divide them into two, down the middle and across. Stew them gently with some good gravy, seasoned with pepper and salt; and five minutes before they are taken up, add a piece of butter rolled in flour. If parsnips are to be stewed white, put in broth and cream in equal quantities, instead of gravy. STEWED PEARS. Pare and quarter some large pears; throw them into water as soon as pared, and before they are divided, to prevent their turning black. Pack them round a block-tin stewpan, and sprinkle as much sugar over as will make them pretty sweet. Add lemon peel, a clove or two, and some bruised allspice; just cover them with water, and add a little red liquor. Cover them close, and stew three or four hours: when tender, take them out, and pour the liquor upon them. STEWED PEAS. Steep some old peas in water all night, if not fine boilers; otherwise only half an hour. Put them into a stewpan of water, just enough to cover them, with a good bit of butter, or a piece of beef or pork. Stew them very gently till the peas are soft, and the meat is tender. If it be not salt meat, add salt and a little pepper, and serve the peas round the meat. STEWED PHEASANTS. Stew your pheasants in a strong veal gravy. While they are simmering, prepare artichoke bottoms cut in dice, and some chesnuts roasted, blanched, and cut in four: let your pheasants stew till your gravy is half wasted, then scum it very clean, and put in your chesnuts and artichoke bottoms; season with a little beaten mace, pepper, and salt, a small glass of white wine, and a little juice of lemon. If your sauce is not thick enough, roll a piece of butter in flour, and let it boil up: in case any scum arises, take it clean off; dish your pheasants, and pour the sauce over them; garnish with lemon. STEWED PIGEONS. See that they are quite fresh, carefully cropped, drawn, and washed; then soak them half an hour. In the mean time cut a hard white cabbage in slices, as if for pickling, and put it in water. Then drain and boil it in milk and water; drain it again, and lay some of it at the bottom of a stewpan. Put the pigeons upon it, but first season them well with salt and pepper, and cover them with the remainder of the cabbage. Add a little broth, and stew gently till the pigeons are tender; then put among them two or three spoonfuls of cream, and a piece of butter and flour for thickening. After a boil or two, serve up the birds in the middle of the dish, with the cabbage placed round them.--Another way is to stew the birds in a good brown gravy, either stuffed or not; and seasoned high with spice and fresh mushrooms, or a little ketchup.--Another way. Take your pigeons trussed as for baking; bruise the livers, and mix them up with a few bread crumbs, parsley, and a little lemon peel chopped small; season it with mace, nutmeg, pepper, and salt; work all up with a piece of butter, and stuff the bellies of your pigeons; tie up the necks and vents; then stew them with some butter, till they are brown all over; put them into another pan that will just hold them, with as much strong gravy as will cover them; let them stew till they are tender, then bruise an anchovy, a shalot shred fine, a piece of butter rolled in flour, and a spoonful of white wine; let all boil together to a proper thickness; scum very clean; dish up, and garnish with crisp bacon and lemon. STEWED PIPPINS. Scoop out the core of some golden pippins, pare them very thin, and throw them into water. For every pound of fruit, make half a pound of refined sugar into a syrup, with a pint of water. When skimmed, put in the pippins, and stew them quite clear. Grate some lemon over, be careful not to break them, and serve them up in the syrup. They make an elegant corner dish, or a dessert.--Another way. Pare your pippins nicely, cut them in halves, and take out the cores; to a quart of spring water, put a pound of double refined sugar, and a piece of lemon-peel; boil it almost to a syrup; take out the peel, and put in the pippins; boil them till they are pretty tender, then draw them to one side of the fire, and let them stew till clear; take them out carefully one at a time, and lay them in a china or earthen dish for use. If golden pippins are done this way, they are very little inferior to apricots. STEWED PORK STEAKS. Cut some steaks from the best end of a loin or neck of pork. Take off the skin, and nearly all the fat, and fry them of a nice brown. Put the steaks into a stewpan, with good gravy enough to make a proper sauce to them, adding pepper and salt. Ten minutes before they are done, thicken the gravy with a piece of butter rolled in flour. A little shalot, or ketchup, or both may be added. STEWED POTATOES. Half boil some potatoes, drain and peel them nicely, and cut them into neat pieces. Put them into a stewpan with some cream, fresh butter, and salt, each proportioned to the quantity of potatoes; or stew them in good gravy, with pepper and salt. Simmer them gently till they are well done and be careful not to let them break. STEWED PRUNES. Stew some prunes gently in a little water, till the stones will slip out easily, but they must not be boiled too much. These are useful in fevers, or in any complaint where fruit is proper; and when fruit more acid would not agree. STEWED RABBIT. Divide them into quarters, flour and fry them in butter; then put them into a stewpan, with some good gravy, and a glass of white wine. Season with salt, pepper, and a sprig of sweet herbs. Cover them close, and let them stew till they become tender. Strain off the sauce, thicken it with flour and butter, and pour it over them. STEWED RED CABBAGE. Slice a small red cabbage, or half a large one, and wash it clean. Put it into a saucepan with pepper, salt, and butter, but no water except what hangs about the cabbage. Stew it tender, and when ready to serve, add two or three spoonfuls of vinegar, and give it one boil over the fire. It may be eaten with cold meat, or with sausages laid upon it.--Another way. Shred the cabbage, and wash it. Put it into a saucepan with pepper, salt, some slices of onion; and a little plain gravy. When it is boiled quite tender, add a bit of butter rubbed with flour, a few minutes before serving, with two or three spoonfuls of vinegar, and boil it up.--Another. Cut the cabbage very thin, put it into a stewpan with a small slice of ham, and half an ounce of butter at the bottom. Put in half a pint of broth, and a gill of vinegar, and let it stew three hours covered down. When it is very tender, add a little more broth, salt, pepper, and a table-spoonful of pounded sugar. Mix these well, and boil it till the liquor is wasted. Then put it into the dish, and lay fried sausages upon it. STEWED RUMP OF BEEF. Wash it well, and season it high with pepper, cayenne, salt, allspice, three cloves, and a blade of mace, all in fine powder. Bind it up tight, and lay it into a pot that will just hold it. Fry three large onions sliced, and put them to it, with three carrots, two turnips, one shalot, four cloves, a blade of mace, and some celery. Cover the meat with good beef broth, or weak gravy. Simmer it as gently as possible for several hours, till quite tender. Clear off the fat, and add to the gravy half a pint of port wine, a glass of vinegar, and a large spoonful of ketchup; half a pint of beer may be added. Simmer for half an hour, and serve in a deep dish. The herbs to be used should be burnet, tarragon, parsley, thyme, basil, savoury, marjoram, pennyroyal, knotted marjoram, and some chives; a good handful all together. But observe to proportion the quantities to the pungency of the several sorts. Garnish with carrots, turnips, or truffles and morels, or pickles of different colours, cut small, and laid in little heaps separate. Chopped parsley, chives, and beet root may be added. If there is too much gravy for the dish, take only a part to season for serving, the less the better; and to increase the richness, add a few beef bones and shanks of mutton in stewing. A spoonful or two of made mustard is a great improvement to the gravy.--Another way. Half roast the rump, then put it into a large pot with three pints of water, one of small beer, one of port vine, some salt, three or four spoonfuls of vinegar, and two of ketchup. Add a bunch of sweet herbs, consisting of burnet, tarragon, parsley, thyme, basil, savoury, pennyroyal, marjoram, knotted marjoram, and a leaf or two of sage; also some onions, cloves, and cayenne. Cover it close, and simmer it for two or three hours, till quite tender. When done lay it into a deep dish, set it over some hot water, and cover it close. Skim the gravy, put in a few pickled mushrooms, truffles, morels, and oysters if agreeable, but it is very good without. Thicken the gravy with flour and butter, heat it with the above, and pour it over the beef. Forcemeat balls of veal, anchovies, bacon, suet, herbs, spice, bread, and eggs to bind, are a great improvement. A rump of beef is excellent roasted; but in the country it is generally sold whole with the edge-bone, or cut across instead of lengthways as in London, where one piece is for boiling, and the rump for stewing or roasting. This must be attended to, the whole being too large to dress together.--Another way. Raise the lean next the chump-end; cut that bone off, but leave the chine-bone, then with two skewers fasten the meat as if the bone was not taken away: Put it into a pot with a little more water than will cover it: Add parsley, thyme, two or three large onions, a handful of salt, whole pepper half an ounce, half a quarter of an ounce of cloves, the same quantity of mace; cover it close down, and stew it over a slow fire for three hours, till your beef is very tender. To make your sauce, take two pounds of gravy beef, cut it in pretty thick slices, and flour them well; put a piece of butter into your stewpan, over a stove, or a quick fire. When that is brown, put in the slices of beef, and fry them brown, as quick as you can; then add water as much as you think will be sufficient to make a very strong gravy; cut an onion cross with parsley, thyme, pepper, and salt, two or three cloves, and a blade of mace; let this stew till your gravy is very rich, then strain it off, and thicken it up with a piece of butter rolled in flour. STEWED SAVOYS. These may be done in the same manner as red cabbage; but the better way is to boil the savoy in water till about half done, and then stew it. This takes off the strong flavour, and makes it much more agreeable. STEWED SCALLOPS. Boil them very well in salt and water; take out the fish, stew them in some of their liquor, with a little white wine, two or three blades of mace, a little nutmeg, and a good piece of butter rolled in flour; let them be thoroughly stewed, then pour in a little cream, shake your pan round, and squeeze in the juice of a Seville orange. Send them to table garnished with baked sippets and orange. STEWED SOLES. Half fry them in butter, take out the fish, and put a quart of water or gravy into the pan, two anchovies, and a sliced onion. When they have boiled slowly for a quarter of an hour, put the fish in again, and stew them gently about twenty minutes. Take them out, thicken the liquor with butter and flour, boil it gently, strain it over the fish, and serve it with oyster, cockle, or shrimp sauce. STEWED SORREL. Wash it clean, and put it into a silver vessel, or stone jar, with no more water than hangs to the leaves. Simmer it as slowly as possible; and when done enough, beat it up with a piece of butter. This is very fine with a fricandeau, with roast meat, mackarel, or any thing usually eaten with an acid sauce. The same thickening may be added, as for spinach and sorrel. It is as well prepared in a stone jar set before the fire, only it requires a longer time. STEWED SPINACH WITH CREAM. Boil the spinach till nearly done enough, then squeeze all the water from it, and put it into a stewpan, with a piece of butter and some salt. Stir it over the fire till the butter is well mixed in with it, and add as much cream as will make it of a moderate thickness. Shake it for a minute or two over the fire, and serve it up with sippets of bread, either fried or toasted. STEWED SPINACH WITH GRAVY. Pick the spinach nicely, then wash it well, and put it into a stewpan, with a few spoonfuls of water, and a little salt. Stew this till quite tender, shaking the pan very often to prevent its burning. When done enough, put it into a sieve to drain, and give it a slight squeeze. Beat the spinach well, then return it to the stewpan with some gravy, pepper, salt, and a piece of butter. Let it stew about a quarter of an hour, stirring it frequently. Serve it up either in a dish by itself, or with poached eggs upon it, according to the occasion for which it is wanted. STEWED SPINACH WITH SORREL. Take spinach and sorrel, in the proportion of three fourths of spinach to one of sorrel. Pick and wash these very nicely; cut them a little, and put them into a stewpan, with two or three spoonfuls of water. Keep them stirring over the fire, till they begin to soften and to liquify. Then leave it to stew at a distance over the fire for an hour or more, stirring it every now and then. Thicken it with a little flour, and when quite done, add some pepper and salt, and serve it up. This will form an excellent sauce to all kinds of meat, or to eat with potatoes. Almost any kind of cold vegetables may be added to this stew. They should be put in just long enough to heat, and mixed in properly with the spinach before it is served up. STEWED TONGUE. Prepare a tongue with saltpetre and common salt for a week, and turn it every day. Boil it tender enough to peel, and afterwards stew it in a moderately strong gravy. Season it with soy, mushroom ketchup, cayenne, pounded cloves, and salt if necessary. Serve with truffles, morels, and mushrooms. The roots of the tongue must be removed before it is salted, but some fat should be left. STEWED TURKEY. Have a nice hen turkey trussed close, and the breast-bone broken; put it into a stewpan with a good piece of butter; let the breast and pinions be glazed of a fine brown; then put it into a stewpan that is very clean; and a faggot of sweet herbs, an onion stuck with three cloves, two blades of mace, some whole pepper, and a little salt; then put in as much strong broth or gravy as will just cover it; cover it very close, and let it stew over a moderate fire, till you think it is tender; in the mean time make some forcemeat balls of veal, &c. and let them be fried of a fine brown, in readiness. When your turkey is done, take it up, put it into your dish, and keep it hot; strain off your liquor into a clean stewpan, and scum it very clean: if it is not thick enough, roll apiece of butter in flour; put in half a glass of white wine, and your forcemeat balls; toss up all together, till your sauce is of a good thickness; squeeze in a little lemon; pour your sauce over the turkey, and garnish your dish with lemon. In the same manner you may do a large fowl; and you may add morels, truffles, artichoke bottoms, &c.--Another. Put turkey or fowl into a stewpan, with a sufficient quantity of gravy or good broth, a head of celery cut small, whole pepper, and a sprig of thyme tied up in a muslin bag. When these are stewed enough, take them up, thicken the liquor with flour and butter, lay the meat in a dish, and pour the sauce over it. STEWED VEAL. Cut off the neck end of a breast of veal, and stew it for gravy. Make a forcemeat of the sweetbread boiled, a few crumbs of bread, a little beef suet, an egg, pepper and salt, a spoonful or two of cream, and a little grated nutmeg. Mix them all together, raise the thin part of the breast, and put in the stuffing. Skewer the skin close down, dredge it over with flour, tie it up in a cloth, and stew it in milk and water rather more than an hour: if a large one, an hour and a half. The proper sauce for this dish is made of a little gravy, a few oysters, a few mushrooms chopped fine, and a little lemon juice, thickened with flour and butter. If preferred, the veal may be stewed in broth, or weak gravy. Then thicken the gravy it was stewed in, pour it over the veal, and garnish with forcemeat balls. STEWED VENISON. Let the meat hang as long as it will keep sweet. Take out the bone, beat the meat with a rolling-pin, lay on some slices of mutton fat, sprinkle over it a little pepper and salt, roll it up light and tie it. Stew it in mutton or beef gravy, with a quarter of a pint of port wine, some pepper and allspice. Cover it close, and simmer it as slowly as possible for three or four hours. When quite tender take off the tape, lay the meat on a dish, strain the gravy over it, and serve it up with currant jelly. STEWED WATER CRESSES. Pick and wash a quantity of water cresses, and boil them for a few minutes. Drain and press them dry, chop them slightly, and put them into a stewpan, either with good gravy or cream, and a seasoning of salt and pepper. Add a thickening of butter rolled in flour, if necessary. Stew them gently for ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour, and serve them up with a garnish of sippets, of fried or toasted bread. STICKING PLASTER. Melt three ounces of diachylon with half an ounce of rosin, and when cooled to about the thickness of treacle, spread it upon a piece of smooth soft linen. STILTON CHEESE. This rich and relishing article is made in the following manner. The night's cream is put into the morning's milk, with the rennet. When the curd is come, it is not broken, as is usually done with other cheese, but taken out whole, and put into a sieve to drain. Here it is pressed till it becomes firm and dry, when it is placed in a wooden hoop made to fit it, in order to prevent its breaking. After being taken out of the hoop, the cheese is bound with cloths, which are changed every day, till it is sufficiently firm to support itself. The cloths are then removed, and the cheese is rubbed with a brush and turned every day. The rennet bag should be kept perfectly sweet and fresh: if it be in the least degree tainted, the cheese will never have a good flavour. STINGS. The stings of bees are often more virulent than those of wasps, and attended with more painful effects. The sting being barbed, it is always left in the wound. When therefore a person is stung by a bee, the sting should be instantly extracted, or it will communicate more of its poison, according to the time it is permitted to remain. It should be carefully pulled out with a steady hand, for if any of it break in, remedies will in a great measure be ineffectual. When the sting is completely extracted, the wounded part should be sucked, and very little inflammation will ensue. If a few drops of the spirits of hartshorn be immediately rubbed on the part affected, the cure will be more speedily accomplished. Another simple remedy is, a solution of indigo in water, or of potash, a little oil of tartar, or common sweet oil, rubbed upon the part. Honey and olive oil, or some bruised mallows, may occasionally be substituted with advantage; but their application should be repeated till the pain ceases. Rubbing on a little common salt, after it has been moistened, is also said to be an effectual cure. If a wasp or bee has been incautiously swallowed in a glass of liquor, take a spoonful of common salt, or repeated doses of salt and water. This will immediately kill the insect, and prevent the injurious effects of the sting. To remove the disagreeable itching which arises from the sting of gnats, wash the part directly with cold water; or at night, rub on fuller's earth mixed with water. STOCK. To make a clear brown stock, for gravy or gravy soup, put into a stewpan with two quarts of water, a pound of lean beef, a pound of the lean of a gammon of bacon, all sliced. Add two or three scraped carrots, two onions, two turnips, and two heads of sliced celery. Stew the meat quite tender, but do not let it brown. When thus prepared, it will serve either for soup, or brown or white gravy. If for brown, put in some soup colouring, and boil it a few minutes. STOCK-FISH. Put it into water, and let it remain there two days, shifting the water often; then take it out, and clean the skin and inner part with a hard brush, and hang it up for one night in the air. In the morning put it again into water, and let it remain till the next morning, shifting the water often; take it out, and hang it up for another day, when it will be fit for dressing. Roll up the fish round, and tie it close with a tape; put it into a fish-kettle, the water of which simmers when you put it on: let it remain simmering for three quarters of an hour, then let it boil for five minutes, and the fish is enough. STOMACHIC TINCTURE. In low nervous affections arising from a languid circulation, and when the stomach is in a state of debility, the following tincture will be found to be strengthening and beneficial. An ounce and a half of peruvian bark bruised, and an ounce of orange peel, steeped in a pint of the best brandy, for ten days. Shake the bottle every day, then let it settle for two days, and decant off the clear liquor. Take a tea-spoonful of the tincture in a wine glass of water, twice a day, when the stomach feels empty and uneasy, an hour before dinner, and also in the evening. This agreeable aromatic tonic will procure an appetite, and aid digestion. Tea made with dried Seville orange peel, in the same way as common tea, and drunk with milk and sugar, has been taken by nervous persons with great benefit. Sucking a bit of dried orange peel about an hour before dinner, when the stomach is empty, is very grateful and strengthening. STONE STAIRS AND HALLS. In order to clean these properly, boil a pound of pipe-maker's clay with a quart of water, a quart of small beer, and a bit of stone blue. Wash the stairs or the floor with this mixture, and when dry, rub it with flannel and a brush. STOPPLES. When a glass stopple is set fast, in a bottle or decanter, rub a drop or two of olive oil round it, close to the mouth of the decanter, and place it near the fire. The oil will soon insinuate itself downwards, and the stopple may then be loosened by the hand, or by striking it lightly with a piece of soft wood. Sometimes the rubbing of the neck of the bottle with a small key, and striking the head of the stopper, will be sufficient to loosen it, without the application of any oil. STORING. The storing of fruits, vegetables, and roots, has been performed in various ways, which are well known already; but lately some better modes have been suggested for this purpose. For apples and pears, after they have been carefully gathered from the trees, and laid in heaps covered with clean cloths or mats for sweating, which is effected in three or four days, they remaining for that length of time afterwards, they are to be wiped separately with clean cloths; when some glazed earthen jars are to be provided with tops and covers, and likewise a quantity of pure pit-sand, which is quite free from any mixture. This is to be thoroughly dried upon a flue. Then put a layer of this sand an inch thick on the bottoms of the jars; above this layer of fruit, a quarter of an inch free of each other; covering the whole with sand to the depth of an inch; then a second course of fruit is to be laid in, and again covered with an inch of the sand, proceeding in the same way until the whole be finished and completed. An inch and a half in depth of sand may be laid over the last or uppermost layer of fruit; when the jars are to be closed and placed in some dry situation, as cool as possible, but entirely out of the way of frost. The usual time at which each kind of such fruits should be ready for the table being known, the jars containing such fruit may, it is said, be examined, by turning out the sand and fruit together cautiously into a sieve. The ripe fruit may then be laid upon the shelves of the fruit-room for use, and the unripe be carefully replaced in the jars as before, but with fresh dry sand. Some kinds of apples managed in this way, will, it is said, keep a great while, as till July; and pears until April, and in some sorts till June. It is not improbable but that many other sorts of fruit might be stored and preserved in somewhat the same way. Vegetables of the cauliflower kind have been stored and kept well through a great part of the winter, by putting them, when in full head, on a dry day, into pits about eighteen inches in depth, and much the same breadth, in a perfectly dry soil, with the stalks and leaves to them, the latter being carefully doubled over and lapped round the heads, instead of hanging them up in sheds or other places, as is the usual practice in preserving them. In performing the work, it is begun at one end of the pits, laying the heads in with the root-stalks uppermost, so as that the former may incline downwards, the roots of the one layer covering the tops or heads of the other, until the whole is completed. The pits are then to be closely covered up with the earth into a sort of ridge, and beaten quite smooth with the back of the spade, in order that the rain-water may be fully thrown off. Fine cauliflowers have been thus stored and kept for the occasional supply of the table until the middle of the following January. For storing and preserving different kinds of roots for common summer use, until the coming in or return of the natural crops, the following method has likewise been proposed. As the ice in ice-houses has commonly subsided some feet, as four, five, or more, by the beginning of the spring, it is proposed to deposit in the rooms or vacancies so left empty, the roots that are to be preserved. As soon as any openings in the places have been well stuffed with straw, and the surfaces of the ice covered with the sort of material, case-boxes, dry ware, casks, baskets, or any other such vessels, are to be placed upon it, which are then to be filled with the roots, such as turnips, carrots, beets, celery, potatoes in particular, and some others. In cases where there are not ice-houses, vegetation may be greatly retarded, and the roots preserved by storing them in deep vaulted cellars, caves, coal-pits, mines, or in any place seated deep in the earth. Potatoes have also been well stored and preserved, it is said, by earthing them in small parcels, as about two bolls each, heaped up, and covered in the usual way with straw and earth; which are turned over into other pits in the early spring, first rubbing off all the sprouts or shoots, and having the roots well watered in small quantities as they are put into the other pits, the whole earthy covering being also well watered and beaten together at the time with the back part of the spade. This covering is to be made to the thickness of about two feet. The same practice or process is to be repeated every time the potatoes are turned over, which should be about once in three weeks, as the state of the weather may be. And where the pits or heaps are not in the shade, it is sometimes proper, when the season is very hot, to cover them with mats supported on sticks, so as to permit a free current of air between the mats and the heaps. In this way it is stated that these roots have been preserved quite plump and entire in the taste until the end of September, or till the succeeding crop becomes perfectly ripe, so as to be used without loss, as that must always be the case where the roots are largely employed before they are in a state of mature growth. It is asserted, too, that in this manner potatoes are even capable of recovering in plumpness and taste, where they have been suffered, by improper exposure to air or heat, to become deficient in these qualities. STOVE BLACKING, for backs of grates, hearths, and the fronts of stoves, is made in the following manner. Boil a quarter of a pound of the best black lead, with a pint of small beer, and a bit of soap the size of a walnut. When that is melted, dip in a painter's brush, and wet the grate, having first cleared off all the soot and dust. Then take a hard brush, and rub it till it is quite bright. A mixture of black lead and whites of eggs well beaten together, will answer the same purpose. STRAMONIUM. This celebrated plant, commonly called the Thorn Apple, often grows on dunghills, and flowers in the month of July. Having lately been discovered as possessing very powerful medical properties, and as affording the most effectual remedy for the asthma, it is now frequently transplanted into gardens, though its odour is extremely offensive. A kind of herb tobacco is made of the dried leaves, mixed with a little rosemary to prevent nausea, and a pipeful is smoked in the evening before going to bed. The practice should be continued for some time, or as often as asthma returns, and it will afford very sensible relief. The plant may easily be raised from seed; but an elegant preparation of the stramonium, or the asthmatic tobacco, may be had of several medicine vendors in the kingdom. STRAWBERRIES. Sir Joseph Banks, from a variety of experiments, and the experience of many years, recommends a general revival of the now almost obsolete practice of laying straw under strawberry plants, when the fruit begins to swell; by which means the roots are shaded from the sun, the waste of moisture by evaporation prevented, the leaning fruit kept from damage, by resting on the ground, particularly in wet weather, and much labour in watering saved. Twenty trusses of long straw are sufficient for 1800 feet of plants. On the management of strawberries in June and July, the future prosperity of them greatly depends; and if each plant has not been kept separate, by cutting off the runners, they will be in a state of confusion, and you will find three different sorts of plants. 1. Old plants, whose roots are turned black, hard, and woody. 2. Young plants, not strong enough to flower. 3. Flowering plants, which ought only to be there, and perhaps not many of them. Before the time of flowering is quite over, examine them, and pull up every old plant which has not flowered; for, if once they have omitted to flower you may depend upon it they will never produce any after, being too old, and past bearing; but to be fully convinced, leave two or three, set a stick to them, and observe them next year. If the young plants, runners of last year, be too thick, take some of them away, and do not leave them nearer than a foot of the scarlet, alpines, and wood, and fifteen or sixteen inches of all the larger sorts; and in the first rainy weather in July or August, take them all up, and make a fresh plantation with them, and they will be very strong plants for flowering next year. Old beds, even if the plants be kept single at their proper distance, examine, and pull all the old plants which have not flowered. When the fruit is nearly all gathered examine them again, and cut off the runners; but if you want to make a fresh plantation, leave some of the two first, and cut off all the rest. Then stir up the ground with a trowel, or three-pronged fork, and in August they will be fit to transplant. If you have omitted in July do not fail in August, that the runners may make good roots to be transplanted in September, for, if later, the worms will draw them out of the ground, and the frost afterwards will prevent them from striking root; the consequence of which is, their not flowering the next spring; and you will lose a year. STRAWBERRY AND RASPBERRY FOOL. Bruise a pint of scarlet strawberries, and a pint of raspberries, pass them through a sieve, and sweeten them with half a pound of fine sugar pounded, add a spoonful of orange-flower water, then boil it over the fire, for two or three minutes; take it off, and set on a pint and a half of cream, boil it and stir it till it is cold; when the pulp is cold, put them together, and stir them till they are well mixed; put the fool into glasses, or basins, as you think proper. STRAWBERRY JAM. Dissolve four pounds of lump sugar in a quart of currant juice, then boil and scum it quite clean. Mash four quarts of raspberries, and mix with it. Let it boil quick, over a clear fire, for nearly an hour, or till the sugar and raspberries are quite mixed. This may be known by putting a little on a plate; if the juice drains from the fruit, it must be boiled longer. When done enough, put it into pots, and the next day put brandy papers over them. Tie them down with another paper, and set the jars in a dry place. STRAWBERRIES PRESERVED. To keep whole strawberries, take equal weights of the fruit and double refined sugar. Lay the strawberries in a large dish, and sprinkle over them half the sugar in fine powder. Shake the dish gently, that the sugar may touch the under side of the fruit. Next day make a thin syrup with the remainder of the sugar, and instead of water, allow to every pound of strawberries a pint of red currant juice. Simmer the fruit in this, until sufficiently jellied. Choose the largest scarlet strawberries, before they are dead ripe. They will eat well in thin cream, served up in glasses. STRAWBERRIES IN WINE. Put a quantity of the finest strawberries into a gooseberry bottle, and strew in three spoonfuls of fine sugar. Fill up the bottle with madeira, or fine sherry. STRENGTHENING DRAUGHT. For weakly persons, any of the following preparations will be highly beneficial. Put two calves' feet in two pints of water, and the same quantity of new milk; bake them in a jar closely covered, three hours and a half. When cold remove the fat, and take a large teacupful of the mucilage, morning and evening. It may be flavoured by baking in it lemon peel, cinnamon, or mace: sugar is to be added afterwards.--Or simmer six sheeps' trotters, with two blades of mace, a bit of cinnamon, lemon peel, a few hartshorn shavings, and a little isinglass, in two quarts of water till reduced to one. When cold, remove the fat, and take nearly half a pint twice a day, warming it with a little new milk.--Another way. Boil an ounce of isinglass shavings, forty peppercorns, and a bit of brown crust of bread, in a quart of water, till reduced to a pint, and strain it. This makes a pleasant jelly to keep in case of sickness, and a large spoonful may be taken in wine and water, in milk, tea, soup, or any other way.--Or boil a quarter of an ounce of isinglass shavings with a pint of new milk, till reduced one half. Add a little sugar, and for a change a bitter almond. Take this at bed-time, but not too warm. Dutch flummery, jellies, or blamange, if not too rich, are also very strengthening. STRENGTHENING JELLY. Put an ounce of isinglass shavings, with a few Jamaica peppercorns, and a toast of bread. Boil it to a pint, and strain it off. A large spoonful of the jelly may be taken in wine and water, milk, tea, or any other agreeable liquor. Or boil a quarter of an ounce of isinglass shavings in a pint of new milk, till it is reduced to half a pint, adding a bitter almond, or a little sugar, by way of change. STRONG GRAVY. Take a stewpan that will hold four quarts, lay at the bottom of it a slice or two of undressed ham or bacon, about a quarter of an inch thick, and two pounds of beef or veal. Add a carrot, a large onion with four cloves stuck in it, one head of celery, a bundle of parsley, lemon thyme, and savoury; a few leaves of sweet basil, a bay leaf, a shalot, a piece of lemon peel, and a dozen corns of allspice. Pour on half a pint of water, cover it close, and let it simmer gently on a slow fire for half an hour, in which time it will be almost dry. Watch it very carefully, and let it take a nice brown colour. Turn the meat and herbs, to brown on all sides; then put in a pint of water to a pound of meat, and let it boil for two hours. It will now be formed into a rich strong gravy, easily converted into cullis, or thickened gravy. STUCCO. A stucco for walls, &c. may be formed of the grout or putty, made of good stone-lime, or the lime of cockle-shells, which is better, properly tempered and sufficiently beat, mixed with sharp grit-sand, in a proportion which depends on the strength of the lime: drift-sand is best for this purpose, and it will derive advantage from being dried on an iron plate or kiln, so as not to burn; for thus the mortar would be discoloured. When this is properly compounded, it should be put up in small parcels against walls, or otherwise, to mellow, as the workmen term it; reduced again to a soft putty, or paste, and spread thin on the walls without any undercoat, and well trowelled. A succeeding coat should be laid on, before the first is quite dry, which will prevent joints of brick-work appearing through it. Much depends upon the workmen giving it sufficient labour, and trowelling it down. If this stucco, when dry, is laid over with boiling linseed oil, it will last a long time, and not be liable, when once hardened, to the accidents to which common stucco is liable. Liardet's, or, as it is commonly called, _Adams oil-cement_, or stucco, is prepared in the following manner: for the first coat, take twenty-one pounds of fine whiting, or oyster-shells, or any other sea-shells calcined, or plaster of Paris, or any calcareous material calcined and pounded, or any absorbent material whatever, proper for the purpose; add white or red lead at pleasure, deducting from the other absorbent materials in proportion to the white or red lead added; to which put four quarts, beer measure, of oil; and mix them together with a grinding-mill, or any levigating machine: and afterwards mix and beat up the same well with twenty-eight quarts, beer measure, of any sand or gravel, or of both, mixed and sifted, or of marble or stone pounded, or of brick-dust, or of any kind of metallic or mineral powders, or of any solid material whatever, fit for the purpose. For the second coat, take sixteen pounds and a half of super-fine whiting, or oyster-shells, or any sea-shells calcined, &c. as for the first coat; add sixteen pounds and a half of white or red lead, to which put six quarts and a half of oil, wine measure, and mix them together as before: afterwards mix and beat up the same well with thirty quarts, wine measure, of fine sand or gravel sifted, or stone or marble pounded, or pyrites, or any kind of metallic or mineral powder, &c. This composition requires a greater proportion of sand, gravel, or other solids, according to the nature of the work, or the uses to which it is to be applied. If it be required to have the composition coloured, add to the above ingredients such a proportion of painter's colours, as will be necessary to give the tint or colour required. In making the composition, the best linseed or hempseed, or other oils proper for the purpose, are to be used, boiled or raw, with drying ingredients, as the nature of the work, the season, or the climate requires; and in some cases, bees' wax may be substituted in place of oil: all the absorbent and solid materials must be kiln-dried. If the composition is to be of any other colour than white, the lead may be omitted, by taking the full proportion of the other absorbents; and also white or red lead may be substituted alone, instead of any other absorbent material. The first coat of this composition is to be laid on with a trowel, and floated to an even surface with a rule or darby, (i. e. a handle-float.) The second coat, after it is laid on with a trowel, when the other is nearly dry, should be worked down and smoothed with floats edged with horn, or any hard smooth substance that does not stain. It may be proper, previously to laying on the composition, to moisten the surface on which it is to be laid by a brush with the same sort of oil and ingredients which pass through the levigating machine, reduced to a more liquid state, in order to make the composition adhere the better. This composition admits of being modelled or cast in moulds, in the same manner as plasterers or statuaries model or cast their stucco work. It also admits of being painted upon, and adorned with landscape, or ornamental, or figure-painting, as well as plain painting.--To make an excellent stucco, which will adhere to wood work, take a bushel of the best stone lime, a pound of yellow ochre, and a quarter of a pound of brown umber, all in fine powder. Mix them to a proper thickness, with a sufficient quantity of hot water, but not boiling, and lay it on with a new white-washer's brush. If the wall be quite smooth, one or two coats will do; but each must be dry before the next is put on. The month of March is the best season for doing this. STUCCO WASHES. The most beautiful white-wash is made of clean good lime mixed with skim milk instead of water. For Blue wash, put four pounds of blue vitriol into an iron or brass pot, with a pound of the best whiting, and a gallon of water. Let it boil an hour, stirring it all the time. Then pour it into an earthen pan, and set it by for a day or two till the colour is settled. Pour off the water, and mix the colour with the white-washer's size. Wash the walls over three or four times, according as it may be necessary. To make Yellow wash, dissolve in soft water over the fire equal quantities of umber, bright ochre, and blue black. Add as much white-wash as is necessary for the work, and stir it all together. If either cast predominates, put in more of the others, till the proper tint is obtained. STUFFINGS. Forcemeat or stuffing is generally considered as a necessary accompaniment to most of the made dishes, and when composed with good taste, it gives to them additional spirit and relish. It is often employed in making of patties, for stuffing of veal, game, and poultry. The ingredients should be so proportioned, that no one flavour predominates; and instead of using the same stuffing for veal, hare, and other things, it is easy to make a suitable variety. The poignancy of forcemeat should be regulated by the savouriness of the viands, to which it is intended to give an additional zest. Some dishes require a very delicately flavoured stuffing, while for others it should be full and high seasoned. The consistence of forcemeats is attended with some difficulty; they are almost always either too heavy or too light. They should be mixed perfectly smooth, and the ingredients thoroughly incorporated. Forcemeat balls must not be larger than a small nutmeg. If for brown sauce, flour and fry them: if for white sauce, put them into boiling water, and boil them for three minutes: the latter are by far the most delicate. Parboiled sweetbreads and tongues are the principal ingredients for stuffing or forcemeat. Besides these, yolks of hard eggs, flour, bread crumbs, boiled onion, mashed potatoe, mutton, beef, veal suet, marrow, calf's udder or brains, veal minced and pounded, and potted meats. Also of garden herbs and roots, parsley, thyme, spinach, marjoram, savoury, tarragon, sage, chervil, basil, burnet, bay leaf, truffles, morels, mushrooms, leeks, shalot, onions, and garlic. Of fish, shrimps, prawns, crabs, oysters, lobsters, and anchovies. Of spices, pepper, mace, allspice, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cayenne, and cloves. These, with bacon and ham, form the principal ingredients for various kinds of stuffing. The liquids in general consist of meat gravy, lemon juice, syrup of lemons, essence of anchovy, mushroom ketchup, vegetable essences, and the essence of spices. STUFFING FOR GOOSE. Chop very fine one or two onions, and a little green sage. Add a large teacupful of bread crumbs, a very little pepper and salt, half the liver parboiled, and the yolks of two eggs. Incorporate the whole well together, put it into the goose, but leave a little room for the stuffing to swell. STUFFING FOR HARE. Two ounces of beef suet chopped fine, three ounces of fine bread crumbs, a little parsley, marjoram, lemon thyme, or winter savory; a dram of grated lemon peel, half a dram of nutmeg, of shalot, and the same of pepper and salt. Mix these with an egg, so as to make them cohesive; but if the stuffing be not of a sufficient consistence, it will be good for nothing. If the liver be quite sound, it may be parboiled, minced very fine, and added to the above. Put the stuffing into the hare, and sow it up. STUFFING FOR PIG. Rub some of the crumb of a stale loaf through a cullender, mince fine a handful of sage, and a large onion. Mix these together with an egg, some pepper and salt, and a piece of butter. Fill the belly of the pig with the stuffing, and sow it up. Lay the pig to the fire, and baste it with salad oil, without leaving it for a moment. STUFFING FOR PIKE. Take equal parts of fat bacon, beef suet, and fresh butter; some parsley, thyme, and savoury; a small onion, and a few leaves of scented marjoram shred fine; an anchovy or two, a little salt and nutmeg, and some pepper. Oysters will be an improvement, with or without anchovies; add some crumbs, and an egg to bind. STUFFING FOR POULTRY. Mince a quarter of a pound of beef suet, (marrow is better,) the same weight of bread crumbs, two drams of parsley leaves, nearly as much of sweet marjoram or lemon thyme, and the same of grated lemon peel. Add an onion or shalot, chopped as fine as possible, a little grated nutmeg, pepper and salt. Pound all together thoroughly, with the yolk and white of two eggs. This is about the quantity for a turkey poult; a very large turkey will take nearly twice as much. To the above may be added an ounce of dressed ham. STUFFING FOR VEAL. Take an equal quantity of grated bread and beef suet, shred very fine. Add parsley and sweet herbs chopped small, a minced anchovy, some nutmeg, pepper, and salt, and a little grated lemon peel. Mix these well together with raw egg or milk. This stuffing will do for roast turkey or hare. STURGEON. Fresh sturgeon should be cut in slices, rubbed over with egg, and sprinkled with grated bread, parsley, salt and pepper. Then fold the slices in white paper, and broil them gently. For sauce, send up butter, anchovy, and soy.--Another way. Clean the sturgeon, and prepare as much liquor as will cover it, thus: take a pint of vinegar, about two quarts of water, a stick of horseradish cut in slips, some lemon peel, two or three bay leaves, and a small handful of salt, boil it in this pickle, till you think it is enough, and serve it with the following sauce: melt a pound of butter, with an anchovy bruised, a blade or two of mace, the body of a crab, or lobster bruised, a little ketchup, a small glass of white wine, half a pint of white shrimps, boil all together, till it is of a proper thickness, squeeze in some lemon, and scraped horseradish; pour a little sauce over your fish, the rest send in boats. STURTIUMS. Gather them young and dry, and put them into a jar of old vinegar, which has been taken from green pickles and onions. The vinegar must be boiled afresh, or boil some fresh vinegar with salt and spice, and when cold, put in the sturtiums. SUBSTITUTE FOR CREAM. As milk or cream is difficult to procure in some situations, particularly during a long voyage, a very good substitute may be found in beating up a fresh egg, and gradually pouring on boiling water to prevent its curdling. The taste of this composition in tea will scarcely be distinguished from the richest cream, and eggs may easily be preserved for a considerable length of time. SUBSTITUTE FOR GRAVY. Mix a gill of water, a gill of table beer, a spoonful of ketchup, an onion sliced thin, a clove or two, three or four peppercorns, and a little salt, all together. Melt a piece of butter, the size of an egg in a small saucepan, and when hot dredge in some flour, stirring it till the froth subsides, by which time it will be browned. Add to it the mixture already prepared, give it a boil, and flavour it with a very small quantity of the essence of anchovy. SUCCORY. Wild white succory is only good to eat in salads. The green is used to put into cooling broths, and to make decoctions in medicine. Common white succory is eaten in salads, and used for ragouts. First pick and wash it, then scald it half an hour in water, put it afterwards into fresh water, in order to press it well with the hands. Stew it with some broth, a little butter, and some cullis, if any at hand. If not, brown a little flour to thicken the sauce. When done enough, take off the fat, season it nicely, and add a little shalot. Serve it under a shoulder, a leg, or neck of mutton, roasted. SUCKERS. The season for taking up or transplanting suckers of trees and shrubs, is almost any time, in open weather, from October till March, being careful to dig them up from the mother-plant with as much and many root-fibres as possible, and trimming them ready for planting, by shortening the long straggling fibres, and cutting off any thick-nobbed part of the old root that may adhere to the bottom, leaving only the fibres arising from the young wood; though it is probable some will appear with hardly any fibres; but as the bottom part, having been under ground, and contiguous to the root of the main plant, is naturally disposed to send forth fibres for rooting; preparatory to planting them out, the stems of the shrub and tree-suckers should likewise be trimmed occasionally, by cutting off all lower laterals; and any having long, slender, and weak tops, or such as are intended to assume a more dwarfish or bushy growth, may be shortened at top in proportion, to form about half a foot to one or two feet in length, according to their nature or strength; and others that are more strong, or that are designed to run up with taller stems, may have their tops left entire, or shortened but little: when thus taken up and trimmed, they should be planted out in rows in the nursery; the weak suckers separately in close rows; and also the shortened and stronger plants, each separately in wider rows; so that the rows may be from one to two feet asunder, in proportion to the size and strength of the suckers: and after being thus planted out, they should have the common nursery-culture of cleaning from weeds in summer, and digging the ground between the rows in winter, &c. and in from one to two or three years they will be of a proper size for planting out where they are to remain: and some kinds of trees, large shrubs, &c. produce suckers strong enough in one season to be fit for planting where they are to remain; as well as some sorts of roses, and numerous other flowering shrubs; also some plants of the strong shooting gooseberries, currants, raspberries, and others of similar kinds. It may generally be observed of such trees and shrubs as are naturally disposed to send up many suckers, that by whatsoever method they are propagated, whether by seeds, suckers, layers, cuttings, &c. they commonly still continue their natural tendency in this respect. When it is, therefore, required to have any sorts to produce as few suckers as possible, not to over-run the ground, or disfigure the plants, it is proper, both at the time of separating the suckers, or planting them off from the main plants, and at the time of their final removal from the nursery, to observe if at the bottom part they shew any tendency to emit suckers, by the appearance of prominent buds, which, if the case, should all be rubbed off as close as possible: as, however, many sorts of trees and shrubs are liable to throw out considerably more than may be wanted, they should always be cleared away annually at least, and in such as are not wanted for increase, it is proper to eradicate them constantly, as they are produced in the spring and summer seasons. Also numerous herbaceous and succulent plants are productive of bottom offset suckers from the roots, by which they may be increased. In slipping and planting these sorts of offset suckers, the smaller ones should be planted in nursery beds, pots, &c. according to the nature of growth and temperature of the different sorts, to have the advantage of one summer's advanced growth; and the larger ones be set at once, where they are to remain, in beds, borders, pots, &c. according to the different sorts or descriptions of them. The suckers of many of the finer kinds of flower-plants, as in the auricula and others, may be separated or taken off from the parent plants any time between the month of February and that of August, as they may become of a proper size, or be wanted for increase; but if they be not wanted for this use, they should never be suffered to remain. They can often be slipped off by the fingers, or a sharp piece of wood, without removing much earth, or the plants from the pots; but when they are large, and cannot be thus separated with a sufficient number of fibres to their bottom parts, they may be taken out of the pots, and be removed by the knife without danger, which is perhaps the best way, as affording most fibres. The suckers of such old flower-plants, when they are wanted to blow strong, should always be taken off without disturbing the plants in the pots, especially when they are few. The suckers, in all cases of this sort, should constantly be planted as soon as possible after they are slipped, in proper small upright pots, giving a slight watering at the time, with suitable temporary shade. They should be placed in proper situations out of the droppings of trees. They thus soon become rooted. The suckers of such flower-plants must, however, never be removed after the latter of the above periods, as they have then done shooting, and are become inactive, and as the winter immediately succeeds, seldom do well, especially without great care and trouble. SUCKING PIG. When the pig has been killed and well cleaned, cut off the feet at the first joint, and put them with the heart, liver, and lights, to boil for gravy. Before the pig is spitted, chop a little sage very fine, mix it with a handful of bread crumb, a little pepper and salt, and sow it up in the belly. Lay it down to a brisk fire, rub it with butter tied up in a piece of thin rag, during the whole time of roasting. Take off the head while at the fire, take out the brains and chop them, mix them with the gravy that comes from the pig, and add a little melted butter. Before the spit is drawn, cut the pig down the back and belly, and lay it in the dish. Put a little of the sauce over it, take the bottom jaws and ears to garnish with, and send brown gravy sauce to table, mixed with the bread and sage that comes out of the pig. Currant sauce is frequently eaten with it. A moderate sized pig will require about an hour and a half roasting. SUET. The proper way of treating suet, is to choose the firmest part as soon as it comes in, and pick it free from skin and veins. Set it in a nice saucepan at some distance from the fire, that it may melt without frying, or it will taste. When melted, pour it into a pan of cold water. When it comes to a hard cake, wipe it very dry, fold it in fine paper, and then in a linen bag. Keep it in a dry cool place. Suet prepared in this way, will keep a twelvemonth. When used, scrape it fine, and it will make a good crust, either with or without butter. SUET DUMPLINS. Take a pound of suet, or the outward fat of loins or necks of mutton, and shred it very fine. Mix it well with a pound and a quarter of flour, two eggs, a sufficient quantity of milk to make it, and a little salt. Drop the batter into boiling water, or boil the dumplins in a cloth. SUET DUMPLINS WITH CURRANTS. Take a pint of milk, four eggs, a pound of suet shred fine, and a pound of currants well cleaned, two tea-spoonfuls of salt, and three of beaten ginger; first take half the milk and mix it like a thick batter, then put in the eggs, the salt, and ginger, then the rest of the milk by degrees, with the suet and currants, and flour enough to make it like a light paste. Make them up about the bigness of a large turkey's egg, flat them a little, and put them into boiling water; move them softly that they do not stick together, keep the water boiling, and a little more than half an hour will do them. SUET DUMPLINS WITH EGGS. Mix up a pint of milk, two eggs, three quarters of a pound of beef suet chopped fine, a tea-spoonful of grated ginger, and flour enough to make it into a moderately stiff paste. Make the paste into dumplins, roll them in a little flour, and put them into boiling water. Move them gently for a little while to prevent their sticking together. If the dumplins are small, three quarters of an hour will boil them; if large, the time must be proportioned to their size. They will boil equally well in cloths, which is often preferred for keeping the outside drier. SUET PUDDING. Shred a pound of suet; mix with it a pound and a quarter of flour, two eggs beaten separately, some salt, and as little milk as will make it. Boil the pudding four hours. It eats well the next day, cut in slices and broiled. The outward fat of a loin or neck of mutton finely shred, makes a more delicate pudding than suet. SUET PUDDING WITH EGGS. To a pound of beef suet chopped very fine, add six large spoonfuls of flour, a tea-spoonful of grated ginger, and a tea-spoonful of salt. Gradually mix with these ingredients a quart of milk, and four eggs well beaten. Boil it three hours in a buttered basin, or two hours and a half in a cloth well floured. SUFFOCATION. Immediately on discovering a person in this unfortunate situation, whatever be the cause, the windows and doors ought to be opened; the body undressed, covered with blankets, removed to the open air, and supported in a leaning posture on a chair. The patient's face should be sprinkled with vinegar, the pit of the stomach with water, and the legs plunged into a cold bath; at the same time rubbing the skin with flannel, or a soft brush. Clysters of vinegar and water will also be useful, and an attempt should be made to promote sickness, by tickling the throat with a feather dipped in oil. When the patient is able to swallow, the most proper drink is vinegar and water, or infusions of mint and balm. SUFFOLK CHEESE. The curd is broken up in the whey, which is poured off as soon as the former has subsided. The remainder, with the curd, is put into a coarse strainer, left to cool, and is then pressed as tightly as possible. After this it is put into the vat, and set in a press to discharge the remaining whey. The curd is then taken out, broken again as finely as possible, salted, and returned to the press. SUFFOLK DUMPLINS. Make a very light dough with yeast, as for bread; add a little salt, and use milk instead of water. Let it rise an hour before the fire. Round the dough into balls, the size of a middling apple; throw them into boiling water, and let them boil twenty minutes. To ascertain when they are done enough, stick a clean fork into one; and if it come out clear, they are ready to take up. Do not cut, but tear them apart on the top with two forks, for they become heavy by their own steam. They should be eaten immediately, with gravy or cold butter, or with meat. SUGARS. These being an article of considerable expense in all families, the purchase demands particular attention. The cheapest does not go so far as the more refined, and there is a difference even in the degree of sweetness. Of white sugar that should be preferred which is close, heavy, and shining. The best sort of brown sugar has a bright gravelly appearance, and it is often to be bought pure as imported. East India sugars are finer for the price, but not so strong, consequently unfit for wines and sweetmeats, but do well for common purposes, if good of their kind. To prepare white sugar pounded, rolling it with a bottle and sifting it, wastes less than pounding it in a mortar. SUGAR CAKES. Make into a paste a pound of flour, twelve ounces of fine sugar sifted, the yolks of two eggs, a little nutmeg, and orange-flower water. Roll it out thin, cut out the cakes with a tin or glass, sift sugar over them, and bake them in a quick oven. SUGAR PASTE. To a pound of flour put two ounces of loaf sugar rolled and sifted, and rub in half a pound of butter. Mix it up with one egg well beaten, and cold water sufficient to make it into a paste. Mould it with the hand till it is quite smooth, and roll it out for use. SUGAR VINEGAR. To every gallon of water, add two pounds of the coarsest sugar; then boil and skim it thoroughly, and add one quart of cold water for every gallon of hot. When cool, put in a toast spread with yeast. Stir it nine days, then barrel it off, and set it in the sun, with a piece of slate on the bung hole. Make the vinegar in March, and it will be ready in six months. When sufficiently sour it may be bottled, or may be used from the cask with a wooden spigot and faucet. SUN FLOWER. The valuable properties of the sun flower are too much neglected, and might be rendered of general advantage. The leaves furnish abundance of agreeable fodder for cattle, the flower is enriched with honey for the bees, the dry stalks burn well, affording a considerable quantity of alkali from the ashes, and the seed is highly valuable in feeding pigs and poultry. The cultivation of this plant cannot be too much recommended, and requires but little management. SUPPER DISH. To make a pretty supper dish, wash a tea-cupful of rice in milk, and boil it tender. Strain off the milk, lay the rice in small heaps on a dish, strew over them some finely-powdered sugar and cinnamon, and put warm wine and a little butter into the dish. SUPPERS. Hot suppers are not much in use where people dine late, nor indeed in ordinary cases. When required, the top and bottom of the table may be furnished with game, fowls, rabbit; boiled fish, such as soles, mackarel, oysters, stewed or scalloped; French beans, cauliflower, or Jerusalem artichokes, in white sauce; brocoli with eggs, stewed spinach with eggs, sweetbreads, small birds, mushrooms, scalloped potatoes; cutlets, roast onions, salmagundi, buttered eggs on toast, cold neat's tongue, ham, collared things, sliced hunter's beef, buttered rusks with anchovies, grated hung beef with butter, with or without rusks; grated cheese round, and butter dressed in the middle of a plate; radishes the same, custards in glasses with sippets, oysters cold or pickled; potted meats, fish, birds, cheese; good plain cake sliced, pies of birds or fruit; lobsters, prawns, cray fish, any sweet things, and fruits. A sandwich set with any of the above articles, placed on the table at a little distance from each other, will look well. The lighter the things, the better they appear, and glass intermixed has the best effect. Jellies, different coloured things, and flowers, add to the beauty of the table. An elegant supper may be served at a small expense, by those who know how to make trifles that are in the house form the greatest part of the entertainment. SUSAN PUDDING. Boil some Windsor beans, just as they begin to be black-eyed, till they are quite tender. Then peel them, and beat up half a pound of them very smooth in a marble mortar. Add four spoonfuls of thick cream, sugar to taste, half a pound of clarified butter, and eight eggs, leaving out half the whites. Beat up the eggs well with a little salt, and white wine sufficient to give it an agreeable flavour. Line a dish with puff paste, add a pretty good layer of candied citron cut in long pieces, pour in the other ingredients, and bake it in a moderate oven three quarters of an hour. SWEEPING OF CHIMNIES. The common practice of employing poor children to sweep narrow chimnies, is most inhuman and unwise: many lives are lost by this means, and much injury is done to the building. The children being obliged to work themselves up by pressing with their feet and knees on one side, and their back on the other, often force out the bricks which divide the chimnies, and thereby encrease the danger, in case a foul chimney should take fire, as the flames frequently communicate by those apertures to other apartments, which were not suspected to be in any danger. To avoid these consequences, a rope twice the length of the chimney should be provided, to the middle of which a bunch of furze or broom is to be tied, sufficient to fill the cavity of the chimney. Put one end of the rope down the chimney, with a stone fastened to it, and draw the brush after it, which will clear the sides of the chimney, and bring down the soot. If necessary, a person at top may draw the brush up again to the top of the chimney, keeping hold of the rope, and thus clean the chimney thoroughly without difficulty or danger. SWEET HERBS. It is of some importance to know when the various seasons commence for procuring sweet and savoury herbs, fit for culinary purposes. All vegetables are in the highest state of perfection, and fullest of juice and flavour, just before they begin to flower. The first and last crop have neither the fine flavour nor the perfume of those which are gathered in the height of the season; that is, when the greater part of the crop of each species is ripe. Let them be gathered on a dry day, and they will have a better colour after being preserved. Cleanse them well from dust and dirt, cut off the roots, separate the bunches into smaller ones, and dry them by the heat of a stove, or in a Dutch oven before the fire. Take them in small quantities, that the process may be speedily finished, and thus their flavour will be preserved. Drying them in the sun exhausts some of their best qualities. In the application of artificial heat, the only caution requisite is to avoid burning; and of this, a sufficient test is afforded by the preservation of the colour. The common custom is, when they are perfectly dried, to put them in bags, and lay them in a dry place. But the best way to preserve the flavour of aromatic plants, is to pick off the leaves as soon as they are dried; then to pound and pass them through a hair sieve, and keep them in well-stopped bottles.--Basil is in the best state for drying, from the middle of August, and three weeks afterwards. Knotted marjoram, from the beginning of July to the end of the month. Winter savoury, the latter end of July, and throughout August. Thyme, lemon thyme, and orange thyme, during June and July. Mint, the latter end of June, and throughout July. Sage, August and September. Tarragon, June, July, and August. Chervil, May, June, and July. Burnet, June, July, and August. Parsley, May, June, and July. Fennel, the same. Elder flowers, and orange flowers, May, June, and July. Herbs carefully dried, are a very agreeable substitute; but when fresh ones can be had, their flavour and fragrance are much finer, and therefore to be preferred. SWEET LAMB PIE. Make a good puff paste; then cut a loin of lamb into chops, and season with salt and nutmeg; lay a paste over the bottom of your dish; put in your chops, with a handful of currants washed and picked very clean; lay on your lid, and bake it. When it comes from the oven, take off the lid nicely, and pour over a caudle made of white wine, the yolks of eggs, a little nutmeg, and sugar pounded: lay the lid on again, and send it to table as hot as you can. SWEET MACARONI. To make a very nice dish of macaroni, boil two ounces of it in a pint of milk, with a bit of cinnamon and lemon peel, till the pipes are swelled to their utmost size without breaking. Lay them on a custard dish, pour a custard over them, and serve them up cold. SWEET PATTIES. Chop the meat of a boiled calf's foot, the liquor of which is intended for jelly; two apples, one ounce of orange and lemon peel candied, and some fresh peel and juice. Mix with them half a nutmeg grated, the yolk of an egg, a spoonful of brandy, and four ounces of currants washed and dried. Fill some small pattipans lined with paste, and bake them.--To make patties resembling mince pies, chop the kidney and fat of cold veal, apple, orange and lemon peel candied; adding some fresh currants, a little wine, two or three cloves, a little brandy and sugar. SWEET POT. Take three handfuls of orange flowers, three of clove gilliflowers, three of damask roses, one of knotted marjoram, one of lemon thyme, six bay leaves, a handful of rosemary, one of myrtle, one of lavender, half one of mint, the rind of a lemon, and a quarter of an ounce of cloves. Chop all together, and put them in layers, with pounded bay-salt between, up to the top of the jar. If all the ingredients cannot be got at once, put them in when obtained, always throwing in salt with every fresh article. This will be found a quick and easy way of making a sweet-scented pot. SWEET SAUCE. Put some currant jelly into a stewpan, and when melted, pour it into a sauce boat. This is a more salubrious relish for venison or hare, than either spice or salt, and is an agreeable accompaniment to roast or hashed meats. SWEETBREADS FRICASSEE. Cut the sweetbreads in pretty thick slices, boil them till about half done, with a little more water than just to cover them. Add a little salt, white pepper, and mace. Then some butter, the yolks of four eggs beaten with a little white wine, and some verjuice. Keep this over the fire, shaking it well, till the sauce is properly thickened. Serve it up with the juice of a Seville orange squeezed over it. If it is to be a brown fricassee, fry the sweetbreads first in butter till the outside is browned. Then pour away the butter, put water to the sweetbreads, and boil and finish them as before. An onion or a clove of garlic may be added to the water; or if broth be used instead of water, it will make the fricassee more savoury. SWEETBREADS FRIED. Cut them into long slices, rub them over with egg, season with pepper, salt, and grated bread, and fry them in butter. Serve them up with melted butter and ketchup, garnished with crisped parsley, and thin slices of toasted bacon. SWEETBREADS RAGOUT. Cut them about the size of a walnut, wash and dry them, then fry them of a fine brown. Pour on them a good gravy, seasoned with salt, pepper, allspice, and either mushrooms or mushroom ketchup, adding truffles and morels, if approved. Strain, and thicken with butter and a little flour. SWEETBREADS ROASTED. Parboil two large ones; when cold, lard them with bacon, and roast them in a Dutch oven. For sauce, plain butter and mushroom ketchup. SWEETMEATS. Preserves or sweetmeats should be carefully kept from the air, and set in a very dry place. If they have only a small proportion of sugar, a warm situation would not injure them; but if they have not been sufficiently boiled, the heat will make them ferment, and the damp will cause them to grow mouldy. They should be inspected two or three times in the first two months that they may be gently boiled again, if not likely to keep. It is necessary to observe, that the boiling of sugar more or less, constitutes the chief art of the confectioner; and those who are not practically acquainted with the subject, and only preserve fruit in a plain way for family use, are not aware that in two or three minutes, a syrup over the fire will pass from one gradation to another, called by the confectioners, degrees of boiling, of which there are six, and those sub-divided. Without entering, however, into the minutiæ of the business, it is only necessary to make the observation in order to guard against under boiling, which prevents sweetmeats from keeping; and quick and long boiling, which reduces them to candy. Attention, without much practice, will enable a person to do any of the following sorts of sweetmeats and preserves, which are quite sufficient for a private family. The higher articles of preserved fruits may be bought at less expense than made. Jellies of fruit are made with an equal quantity of sugar, that is, a pound to a pint, and require no very long boiling. A pan should be kept for the purpose of preserving, of double block tin, with a bow handle for safety, opposite the straight one: and if when done with, it be carefully cleaned and set by in a dry place, it will last for several years. Pans of copper or brass are extremely improper, as the tinning wears out by the scraping of the ladle. Sieves and spoons should likewise be kept on purpose for sweetmeats. Sweetmeats keep best in drawers that are not connected with a wall. If there be the least damp, cover them only with paper dipped in brandy, and laid on quite close; and to prevent the mouldiness occasioned by insects, cover them with fresh paper in the spring. When any sweetmeats are to be dried in the sun, or in a stove, it will be best in private families, where there is not a regular stove for the purpose, to place them in the sun on flag stones, which reflect the heat, and to cover them with a garden glass to keep off the insects. If put into an oven, take care that it be not too warm, and watch to see them done properly and slowly. When green fruits are to be preserved, take pippins, apricots, pears, plums, or peaches, and put them into a block tin preserving pan, with vine leaves under and over them, and cover them with spring water. Put on the tin cover to exclude the air, and set the pan on the side of the fire. When the fruit begins to simmer, remove the pan from the fire, pour off the water, and if not green, put fresh leaves when cold, and repeat the same. Take them out carefully with a slice, peel and do them as directed for the different kinds of preserves. When fruit is plentiful, and sweetmeats are wanted for tarts, divide two pounds of apricots just ripe, and take out and break the stones. Put the kernels without their skins to the fruit; add three pounds of greengages, and two pounds and a half of lump sugar. The sugar should be broken in large pieces, and just dipped in water, and added to the fruit over a slow fire. Simmer it till reduced to a clear jam, but observe that it does not boil, and skim it well. If the sugar be clarified, it will make the jam the better. Put it into small pots, which art the best for preserving sweetmeats. SWEETMEAT PIES. Sweetmeats made with syrups are made into pies the same as raw fruit, and the same crusts may be used for them. Tarts made of any kind of jam are commonly made with a crust round the bottom of the dish, the sweetmeat then put in, and only little ornaments of crust cut with a jagging iron, and laid over the top. Sugar paste may be used if preferred. Little tartlets are made in the same way, only baked in tins and turned out. SWOONS. In a swooning fit, the patient should immediately be exposed to the open air, and the face and neck sprinkled with cold water. Pungent odours, or volatile spirits, should be held to the nostrils, and the feet rubbed with hot flannels, or put into warm water. SYLLABUB. Put a pint of cider and a bottle of strong beer into a large punch bowl, grate in a nutmeg, and sweeten it. Put in as much new milk from the cow as will make a strong froth, and let it stand an hour. Clean and wash some currants, and make them plump before the fire: then strew them over the syllabub, and it will be fit for use. A good imitation of this may be made by those who do not keep cows, by pouring new milk out of a tea-pot into the cider and beer, or wine.--A fine syllabub from the cow. Make your syllabub either of wine or cyder, (if cyder, put a spoonful of brandy in) sweeten it, and grate in some nutmeg; then milk into the liquor till you have a fine light curd; pour over it half a pint, or a pint of good cream, according to the quantity of syllabub you make: you may send it in the basin it was made in, or put it into custard-cups, and tea-spoons with it on a salver.--To make very fine syllabubs. Take a quart and half a pint of cream, a pint of Rhenish, and half a pint of sack; grate the rind of three lemons into the cream; with near a pound of double-refined sugar; squeeze the juice of three lemons into the wine, and put it to the cream; then beat all together with a whisk half an hour, take it up together with a spoon, and fill the glasses. It is best at three or four days old, and will keep good nine or ten days. These are called the everlasting syllabubs. SYMPATHETIC INK. Write on paper with a solution of nitrate of bismuth, and smear the writing over with a feather, moistened with an infusion of galls. The letters which were before invisible, will now appear of a brown colour. Or write with a solution of muriate of antimony, and smear the writing over with a feather dipped in a solution of galls. The writing before invisible, will now turn yellow. Or write with a transparent infusion of gall nuts, and smear it over with a solution of metallic salt; and on a slight exposure to the air, the writing will turn quite black. If written with a solution of sulphate of iron, and rubbed over with a solution of prussiate of potass, it will appear of a beautiful blue colour. SYRUP OF CREAM. Scald a pint of perfectly fresh cream, add to it a pound and a quarter of powdered lump sugar. Keep it in a cool place for two or three hours, then put it into small phials, holding one or two ounces each, and cork it close. It will keep good thus for several weeks, and will be found very useful in voyages. SYRUP OF DIACODIUM. Steep two pounds and a quarter of poppy heads in a gallon of water, and let it infuse twenty-four hours. Boil the infusion till reduced to three pints, and add to it a pound and a half of sugar. SYRUP OF MULBERRIES. Put the mulberries into a jar, and the jar into a kettle of water over the fire, till the juice runs from them. Then squeeze the fruit, and add to the juice twice its weight in sugar. Set it over a slow fire, skim it clean, and keep it simmering till the sugar is all dissolved. T. TABLE BEER. If the quantity to be brewed is taken as a barrel, or six and thirty gallons, two bushels and a half of malt will be sufficient. The dimensions of the vessels may be supposed to correspond with those used in a moderate family, and the copper holding about thirty gallons. A quantity of boiling water being poured into the mash tub, is suffered to remain there till the steam is nearly all evaporated. The malt previously ground, is then thrown into the water, and thoroughly stirred and mixed with it. This agitation of the malt and water, commonly called mashing, is kept up for a quarter of an hour, by which the malt is more effectually brought into contact with the water, and a greater proportion of its soluble matter extracted. After this the mash tub is covered over in order to retain as much heat as possible, and the whole is suffered to remain undisturbed for an hour and a half or two hours. At the end of that time, the water thus impregnated with the malt, in which state it is commonly called sweet wort, is slowly drawn off into another vessel. The quantity of water used in the first mashing is about twenty-five gallons; of which, not above fifteen are afterwards obtained, the rest being absorbed by the malt, with the exception of a small quantity carried off by evaporation. This first wort being drawn off from the malt, a fresh portion of hot water is thrown into the mash tub, and the process of mashing is repeated for ten minutes. The tub being again covered, the whole is suffered to remain for about an hour, when a second wort is drawn off. The quantity of water used in this second mashing is about fifteen gallons; and the malt having already retained as much water as is sufficient to saturate it, the whole amount of the fifteen gallons is afterwards recovered from the mash tub. About twelve gallons of hot water is now added to the malt, and the mixture being mashed for a few minutes, is suffered to remain another hour, in order to form a third wort. In the meantime a part of the two first worts is poured into the copper, with a pound and a half or two pounds of hops, and boiled for an hour, or an hour and a half; after which it is strained through a sieve into another vessel. The third wort is now drawn off from the mash tub, and being mixed with the remaining part of the first and second wort, it is boiled for an hour or more, with the hops used in the former instance. The three worts are then distributed into shallow vessels or coolers, and suffered to remain there till the liquor is reduced to a lukewarm state. It is then collected into the tun tub, and fermented with about a quart of yeast, which converts it into beer. But as table beer is sometimes brewed in considerable quantities for the use of large families, and in a still more economical manner, an estimate will be given, in order to show the saving that is made in private brewing. The following is a preparation for ten barrels. £ _s._ _d._ Malt, one quarter 2 10 0 Hops, eight pounds 0 10 0 Colouring, ditto 0 4 0 Spanish liquorice, 8oz. 0 0 8 Treacle, ten pounds 0 3 4 --------- 3 8 0 --------- Ten barrels bought at the brewery at 16_s._ 8 0 0 Ten barrels brewed at home 3 8 0 --------- Clear gain 4 12 0 --------- Liquorice root and other flavouring substances may be added: what are here inserted are only the general requisites.--Another way of making a cheap and wholesome table beer, is to dissolve four pounds of coarse sugar in ten gallons of water. Then put in three ounces of hops, boil the whole for three quarters of an hour, and let it work as usual. It should be kept a week or ten days before it is tapped, and it will improve daily afterwards, if not kept too long. Or for a still smaller quantity, put a pound of treacle to eight quarts of boiling water: add two bay leaves, and a quarter of an ounce of powdered ginger. Boil the whole for fifteen minutes, then let it cool, and work it with yeast. TAINTED MEAT. When the weather is so hot that meat will scarcely keep from day to day, wrapping it in a thin cloth dipped in vinegar, and not wrung very dry, will help to keep it from being tainted. Or rubbing the meat with black pepper will preserve it, and let it be hung up as usual. It is much better however, that meat should not be kept so long as to risk its being tainted. TAN GLOVES. To dye gloves to look like York tan or Limerick, put some saffron into a pint of water boiling hot, and let it infuse all night. Next morning wet the leather over with a brush, but take care that the tops of the gloves be sewn close, to prevent the colour from getting in. TANSEY. To make a tansey, beat up seven eggs, yolks and whites separately. Add a pint of cream, nearly the same of spinach juice, and a little tansey juice, gained by pounding it in a stone mortar; a quarter of a pound of Naples biscuit, a glass of white wine, and a little sugar and nutmeg. Set all in a saucepan, just to thicken, over the fire; then put it into a dish, lined with paste to turn out, and bake it.--Another. Beat ten eggs very well with a little salt, half a pound of loaf sugar pounded, half a pint of spinach juice, and a spoonful of the juice of tansey; mix them well together, and strain it to a quart of cream; grate in half a pound of Naples biscuits, and a nutmeg; add a quarter of a pound of Jordan almonds blanched and beat fine, with a little rose water, and mix all well together; put it into a stewpan, with a piece of butter the bigness of a golden pippin. Set it over a slow charcoal fire; keep it stirring till it is hardened; then butter a dish very well, that will just hold it: put in the tansey, bake it in a moderate oven, taking care that it is not scorched. When it comes home, turn it upon a pie plate, cut Seville oranges in small quarters, and lay round it, and on the tansey, citron, and orange peel cut thin, with double refined sugar laid in little heaps between. If you have not Naples biscuits, grate seven ounces of the finest stale bread you have.--_A boiled tansey._ Cut the crumb of a stale penny loaf thin, pour over as much hot cream as will wet it, and cover it over till cold; then beat and strain six eggs to it, a little lemon peel shred fine, a little grated nutmeg, and salt; green it as you did the baked tansey, and sweeten it to your taste; stir all very well together, butter a bason, that will hold it, butter also a cloth to lay over the top, tie it tight, and boil it an hour and quarter; turn it into a dish, and garnish with Seville orange; stick candied orange cut thin on the top. TANSEY PUDDING. Grate four ounces of bread, blanch two ounces of sweet almonds, and beat them fine in a marble mortar, with orange-flower water. Mix these, and four ounces of fine powdered sugar with the bread. Add five eggs, a little salt, a pint of cream, a grated nutmeg, half a pint of spinach juice expressed from the leaves, beaten in a marble mortar, and strained through a cloth, and two or three spoonfuls of tansey juice beaten out and strained in the same manner. Stir the whole together, and put it into a saucepan with a small piece of butter. Set it over the fire till it thickens, stirring it all the time, but do not let it boil. When done, cool it in a basin, then pour it into a dish well buttered, and bake it half an hour. Turn it out of the dish before it is sent to table, sift some fine sugar over it, and lay a Seville orange round it cut in pieces, and squeeze the juice upon it. TAPIOCA JELLY. Choose the largest sort, pour on cold water to wash in two or three times, and then soak it in fresh water five or six times. Simmer it in the same until it become quite clear, with a bit of lemon peel. Then add lemon juice, wine, and sugar. TAPIOCA PUDDING. Wash six spoonfuls of the large kind of tapioca, and stew it gently in a quart of milk till it is pretty thick. Let it stand uncovered to cool. Add two eggs well beaten with some salt, and sugar to the taste. Bake it with a crust round the edge of a dish, in a moderate oven, for an hour. TAR WATER. Pour a gallon of cold water on a quart of tar, and stir and mix them thoroughly with a ladle or flat stick, for the space of three or four minutes; after which the vessel must stand forty-eight hours, that the tar may have time to subside; when the clear water is to be poured off, and kept for use, no more being made from the same tar, which may still serve for common purposes. The general rule for taking it is, about half a pint night and morning, on an empty stomach, which quantity may be varied according to the case and age of the patient; provided it be always taken on an empty stomach, and about two hours before or after a meal. Tar water cures indigestion, and gives a good appetite. It is an excellent medicine in an asthma; it imparts a kindly warmth, and quick circulation to the juices, without heating, and is therefore useful, not only as a pectoral and balsamic, but also as a powerful and a safe deobstruent in cachectic and hysteric cases. As it is both healing and diuretic, it is very good for the gravel. It is believed to be of great use in a dropsy, having been known to cure a very bad anasarca in a person whose thirst, though very extraordinary, was in a short time removed by the drinking of tar water. It is also believed to be the best and safest medicine, either for preventing the gout, or for so strengthening nature against the fit, as to drive it from the vitals. It may likewise be safely used in inflammatory cases; and, in fact, hath been found an admirable febrifuge, at once the safest cooler and cordial. The salts and more active spirits of tar are got by infusion in cold water; but the resinous part is not to be dissolved thereby. Hence the prejudice which some, perhaps, may entertain against tar water, the use of which might inflame the blood by its sulphur and resin, as a medicine, appears not to be well grounded. It is observed by chemists, that all sorts of balsamic wood afford an acid spirit, which is the volatile oily salt of the vegetable. Herein is chiefly contained their medicinal virtues; and it appears that the acid spirit in tar water possesses the virtues, in an eminent degree, of that of guaiacum, and other medicinal woods. It is certain tar water warms, and therefore some may perhaps still think it cannot cool. The more effectually to remove this prejudice, let it be farther considered, that, as on one hand, opposite causes do sometimes produce the same effect; for instance, heat by rarefaction, and cold by condensation, do both increase the air's elasticity; so, on the other hand, the same cause shall sometimes produce opposite effects. Heat, for instance, in one degree thins, in another coagulates, the blood. It is not therefore strange, that tar water should warm one habit and cool another; have one good effect on a cold constitution, and another good effect on an inflamed one; nor, if this be so, that it should cure opposite disorders. A medicine of so great virtue in so many different disorders, and especially in that grand enemy the fever, must needs be a benefit to mankind in general. There are nevertheless three sorts of people to whom it may be peculiarly recommended; seafaring persons, ladies, and men of studious and sedentary lives. If it be asked, what precise quantity, or degree of strength is required in tar water? It is answered, that the palate, the stomach, the particular case and constitution of the patient, the very season of the year, will dispose and require him to drink more or less in quantity, stronger or weaker in degree. Precisely to measure its strength by a scrupulous exactness, is by no means necessary. It is to be observed, that tar water should not be made in unglazed earthen vessels, these being apt to communicate a nauseous sweetness to the water. Tar water is also recommended in the plague, and for the distemper among horned cattle; with what success must be left to experience. TARRAGON VINEGAR. Fill a wide-mouthed bottle with tarragon leaves, gathered on a dry day, just before the plant begins to flower. Dry the leaves a little before the fire, steep them a fortnight in the best vinegar, and strain it fine through a flannel jelly bag. Pour it into half-pint bottles, cork them up carefully, and keep them in a dry place. This forms an agreeable addition to soups and salad sauce, and to mix with mustard. TARTAR WINE. Add to a quantity of mare's milk a sixth part of water, and pour the mixture into a wooden vessel. Use as a ferment an eighth part of sour cow's milk; but at any future preparation, a small portion of old koumiss will answer better. Cover the vessel with a thick cloth, and set it in a place of moderate warmth, leaving it at rest for twenty four hours. At the end of this time the milk will become sour, and a thick substance will be gathered on its surface. Now with a churn-staff, beat it till the thick substance just mentioned, be intimately blended with the subjacent fluid. In this situation leave it at rest for twenty four hours more. Afterwards pour it into a higher and narrower vessel, resembling a churn, where the agitation must be repeated as before, till the liquor appear to be perfectly combined. In this state it is called koumiss, the taste of which ought to be a pleasant mixture of sweet and sour. Agitation must be employed every time before it is used. This wine, prepared by the Tartars, is cooling and antiseptic. Sometimes aromatic herbs, as angelica, are infused in the liquor during fermentation. TARTS. Sweetmeats made with syrups are formed into pies and tarts the same as raw fruits, and the same crusts may be used for them. Tarts made of any kind of jam are usually formed with a crust round the bottom of the dish, the sweetmeat is then put in, and little ornaments of crust placed over the top, made with a jagging iron. Sugar paste is suitable for these. Little tartlets are made in the same way, only baked in tins and turned out.----Take apples, or pears, cut them in small quarters, and set them over the fire, with a piece of lemon peel, and some cinnamon; let them simmer in as much water as will cover them, till tender; and if you bake them in tin pattipans, butter them first, and lay over a thin paste; lay in some sugar, then the fruit, with three or four tea-spoonfuls of the liquor they were simmered in; put in a little more sugar, and lid them over. If your tarts are made of apricots, green almonds, nectarines, or green plums, they must be scalded before you use them, and observe to put nothing to them but sugar, and as little water as possible; make use of the syrup they were scalded in, as you did for your apples, &c. Cherries, currants, raspberries, and all ripe fruits need not be scalded; and if you make your tarts in china, or glass patties, lay the sugar at bottom, then the fruit, with a little more sugar on the top; put no paste at the bottom, only lid them over, and bake them in a slack oven. You have receipts how to make crust for tarts; mince pies must be baked in tin patties, that you may slip them out into a dish, and a puff paste is the best for them. When you make sweetmeat tarts, or a crocant tart, lay in the sweetmeats, or preserved fruit either in glass or china patties that are small, for that purpose; lay a very thin crust on the top, and let them be baked no more than till your crust is nicely coloured, and that in a slow oven. If you would have a crocant tart for the middle of the table, or a side-dish, have a glass, or china dish, of what size you please, and lay in the preserved fruit of different sorts, (you must have a round cover just the size of the inside of your dish) roll out a sugar crust, the thickness of an half crown, and lay over the cover; mark it with marking irons made on purpose for that use, of what shapes you please; then put the crust, with the cover, into a very slack oven, not to discolour it, only to have it crisp. When you take it out of the oven, loosen it from the cover very gently, and when quite cold, take it carefully off, and lay over your sweetmeats, and it being hollow, you will see the fruit through it. If the tart is not eaten, only take off the lid, and your sweetmeats may be put into the pots again. TEA. The habit of drinking tea frequently, and in large quantities, cannot fail to be injurious, as it greatly weakens and relaxes the tone of the stomach. This produces indigestion, nervous trembling and weakness, attended with a pale, wan complexion. When tea is taken only at intervals, and after solid food, it is salutary and refreshing; but when used as a substitute for plain nourishing diet, as is too commonly the case amongst the lower classes, it is highly pernicious, especially as large quantities of a spurious description are too frequently imposed upon the public. The policy which compels a very numerous class to purchase this foreign article, for procuring which immense sums are sent out of the country, while the produce of our own soil is comparatively withheld by an exorbitant system of taxation, cannot be too severely condemned, as alike injurious to health, to the interests of agriculture, and to the comfort and industry of the people. The duty on foreign tea has indeed been greatly encreased, but at the same time, so has the duty on malt and beer; no encouragement therefore is given to the home consumption, but the money which ought to be paid for the production of barley and malt is given to the foreigner, while by the enormous price of the article, a powerful stimulus is furnished for attempting an illicit importation, and for the pernicious adulteration of what is now esteemed almost a common necessary of life. It is desirable to lessen the injurious effects of tea as much as possible by mixing it with milk, which will render it softer and more nutritious. With the addition of sugar it may be made to form a wholesome breakfast for those who are strong and live freely, operating as a diluent for cleansing the bladder and kidnies, and the alimentary passages. Persons of weak nerves ought however to abstain from tea, as they would from drains and cordials, as it causes the same kind of irritation on the delicate fibres of the stomach, which ends in lowness, trembling, and vapours. Tea should never be drunk hot at any time, as it tends still more to produce that relaxation which ought to be carefully avoided. Green tea is less wholesome than black or bohea. TEA CAKES. Rub four ounces of butter into eight ounces of flour, mix with it eight ounces of currants, and six of fine Lisbon sugar. Add two yolks and one white of eggs, and a spoonful of brandy. Roll the paste about the thickness of a biscuit, and cut it out with a wine glass into little cakes. The white of the other egg beaten up, may be washed over them, and then they may be dusted with fine sugar. TEA-KETTLES. Hard water used for tea is apt to form an offensive crust inside the tea-kettle, which may be prevented by frequent cleaning, or putting a flat oyster shell at the bottom. This will attract the stony particles that are in the water, and the concretion will be formed upon it. TEA-POTS. An infusion of tea is always more perfect in a metal tea-pot, than in one of stone or earthenware. If boiling water be poured into two tea-pots, one of bright silver or polished tin, and the other of black stoneware, and they be left in a room of moderate temperature, it will be found that the former will retain its heat nearly twice as long as the other. Tea-pots of polished metal are therefore to be preferred. TEATS. Sore teats, in Neat Cattle, is an affection in those of the cow kind, to which some are much more subject than others; especially such as have newly or lately calved. When the teats of these animals are affected during the summer months, they often become ulcerated, and by the teazing of the flies, the cattle are rendered difficult to be milked; they also become a very great nuisance at the periods of milking, as the discharges from them are apt, without much attention, to pass between the fingers of the operator into the milk-pail, and spoil the milk. The affection is caused by inflammation, irritation, and too much distention of the parts by the milk. In order to the removal of it, the milk should be first frequently drawn, and the parts well washed with soft soap and warm water; after which, a substance composed of elder ointment and wax melted together, to which is then added a little alum and sugar of lead, in fine powder, may be used to the parts after milking at night and in the morning; or a weak solution of white vitriol and a little sugar of lead, in soft water may be made use of in the same way, in some cases, with more advantage. The addition of a little assafoetida, and such like substances, in powder, is, it is said, beneficial in the summer season in driving away the flies. Great care is to be taken to keep the teats as clean as possible during the time of cure. TEETH AND GUMS. In order to preserve the teeth and gums, they require to be cleaned very carefully; for if the enamel of the teeth be worn off by an improper mode of cleaning, they will suffer more injury than by a total neglect. A common skewer of soft wood, bruised and bitten at the end, will make the best brush for this purpose. Once a week dip the skewer brush into a few grains of gunpowder, after they have been bruised, and it will remove every spot and blemish till the teeth appear beautifully white. The mouth should be well washed after the operation, to prevent any ill effects of the gunpowder. Teeth, if not regularly cleaned, are apt to contract a false kind of enamel which is injurious to the gums, leaving the fangs of the teeth bare, so that they are soon destroyed, by being exposed to the air, and for want of being protected by the gums. This tartarous enamel must therefore be scaled off, that the gums may grow up to their proper place. Raspberries or strawberries eaten plentifully have been found to dissolve these concretions, and contribute to the preservation of the teeth and gums. Tooth powders and tinctures also have their use. A very convenient powder may be made of charcoal pounded in a mortar, and sifted fine. Apply a little of it to the teeth twice a week, and it will not only render them beautifully white, but also make the breath sweet, and the gums firm and comfortable. The charcoal may be ground in water, and so preserved for use. A tincture for the gums may be made of three ounces of the tincture of bark, and half an ounce of sal ammoniac, mixed together. Dip the finger into a tea-spoonful of the tincture, and rub the gums and teeth with it, which are afterwards to be washed with warm water. This tincture not only cures the toothache, but preserves the teeth and gums, and causes them to adhere to each other. TENANT AT SUFFERANCE. When a lease is expired, and the tenant keeps possession without any new contract, he is deemed a tenant at sufferance. But on the landlord's acceptance of any rent after the expiration of the lease, the tenant may hold the premises from year to year, till half a year's notice is given. TENANT AT WILL. A tenant at will is one who holds an estate or tenement at the will of the landlord, and may at any time be ejected. Meanwhile he is at liberty to leave when he chooses, on giving proper notice, and cannot be compelled to occupy. TENCH. These are a fine flavoured fresh-water fish, and should be killed and dressed as soon as caught. They abound very much in the dykes of Lincolnshire. When they are to be bought, examine whether the gills are red and hard to open, the eyes bright, and the body stiff. The tench has a slimy matter about it, the clearness and brightness of which indicate freshness. The season for this delicate fish is July, August, and September. When to be dressed, put them into cold water, boil them carefully, and serve with melted butter and soy. They are also very fine stewed, or fricasseed, as follows. To fricassee tench white. Having cleaned your tench very well, cut off their heads, slit them in two, and if large, cut each half in three pieces, if small, in two: melt some butter in a stewpan, and put in your tench; dust in some flour, and pour in some boiling water, and a few mushrooms, and season it with salt, pepper, a bundle of sweet herbs, and an onion stuck with cloves: when this boils, pour in a pint of white wine boiling hot; let it stew till sufficiently wasted; take out the fish, and strain the liquor, saving the mushrooms; bind your fricassee with the yolk of three or four eggs beaten up with a little verjuice, some parsley chopped fine, and a little nutmeg grated; stir it all the time it boils, scum it very clean, pour your sauce over the fish, and send it to table.--To fricassee tench brown. Prepare your tench as in the other receipt; put some butter and flour into a stewpan, and brown it; then put in the tench with the same seasoning you did your white fricassee; when you have tossed them up, moisten them with a little fish broth; boil a pint of white wine, and put to your fricassee, stew it till enough, and properly wasted; then take the fish up, and strain the liquor, bind it with a brown cullis, and serve it up. If asparagus or artichokes are in season, you may boil these, and add them to your fricassee. TENCH BROTH. Clean the fish, and set them on the fire with three pints of water; add some parsley, a slice of onion, and a few peppercorns. Simmer till the fish is broken, the broth become good, and reduced one half. Add some salt, and strain it off. Tench broth is very nutricious, and light of digestion. THICK MILK. Beat up an egg, and add to it a tea spoonful of flour. Mix it smooth with a tea-spoonful of cold milk, and put to it a pint of boiling milk. Stir it over a slow fire till it boils, then pour it out, and add a little sugar and nutmeg. The saucepan should have a little cold water put into it first, to prevent the milk from burning at the bottom, or marbles boiled in it will answer the same purpose. THICKENED GRAVY. To a quart of gravy allow a table-spoonful of thickening, or from one to two table-spoonfuls of flour, according to the thickness required. Put a ladleful of the gravy into a basin with the thickening, stir it up quick, add the rest by degrees, till it is all well mixed. Then pour it back into a stewpan, and leave it by the side of the fire to simmer for half an hour longer, that the thickening may be thoroughly incorporated with the gravy. Let it neither be too pale nor too dark a colour. If not thick enough, let it stew longer, or add to it a little glaze or portable soup. If too thick, it may be diluted with a spoonful or too of warm broth or water. THICKENED SOUP. Put into a small stewpan three table-spoonfuls of the fat taken off the soup, and mix it with four table-spoonfuls of flour. Pour in a ladleful of the soup, mix it with the rest by degrees, and boil it up till it is smooth. This may be rendered more savoury by adding a little ketchup. The soup should be strained through a tammis. THICKENING. Clarified butter is best for this purpose, or put some fresh butter into a stewpan over a slow clear fire. When it is melted, add fine flour sufficient to make it the thickness of paste. Stir it well together with a wooden spoon for fifteen or twenty minutes, till it is quite smooth, and the colour of a guinea. This must be done very gradually and patiently, or it will be spoiled. Pour it into an earthen pan, and it will keep good a fortnight in summer, and longer in winter. Particular attention must be paid in making it; if it gets any burnt smell or taste, it will spoil every thing it is put into. When cold, it should be thick enough to cut out with a knife, like a solid paste. This is a very essential article in the kitchen, and the basis of consistency in most made dishes, soups, sauces, and ragouts. In making this thickening, the less butter and the more flour is used the better. They must be thoroughly worked together, and the broth or soup added by degrees. Unless well incorporated, the sauce will taste floury, and have a greasy disagreeable appearance. To prevent this, it must be finished and cleansed, after it is thickened, by adding a little broth or warm water, and setting it by the side of the fire to raise any fat that is not thoroughly incorporated with the gravy, that it may be carefully removed as it comes to the top. Some cooks merely thicken their soups and sauces with flour, or the farina of potatoe; and others use the fat skimmings off the top of broth, as a substitute for butter. THORNS AND SPLINTERS. To run prickles or thorns, such as those of roses, thistles, and chesnuts, or little splinters of wood or bone, into the hands, feet, or legs, is a very common accident, and provided any such substance be immediately extracted, it is seldom attended with any bad consequences. But the more certain prevention is a compress of linen dipped in warm water, and applied to the part, or to bathe it a little while in warm water. If the thorn or splinter cannot be extracted directly, or if any part of it be left in, it causes an inflammation, and nothing but timely precaution will prevent its coming to an abscess. A plaster of shoemaker's wax spread upon leather, draws these wounds remarkably well. When it is known that any part of the splinter remains, an expert surgeon would open the place and take it out; but if it be unobserved, as will sometimes happen when the substance is very small, till the inflammation begins, and no advice can at once be procured, the steam of water should be applied to it first, and then a poultice of bread crumb and milk, with a few drops of peruvian balsam. It is quite necessary that the injured part should be kept in the easiest posture, and as still as possible. If this does not soon succeed, good advice must be procured without delay, as an accident of this kind neglected, or improperly treated, may be the occasion of losing a limb. In this and all other cases of inflammation, a forbearance from animal food and fermented liquors, is always advisable. THRUSH. This disorder in children affects the mouth and throat, and sometimes the stomach. In the former case it will be sufficient to cleanse the mouth with a little sage tea, sweetened with the honey of roses, and mixed with a dram of borax. In the latter, great benefit may be derived from a decoction of carrots in water, or an ounce of linseed boiled in a pint of water till reduced to a consistence, and sweetened with two ounces of honey, a table-spoonful of which may be given occasionally. This complaint may generally be prevented by a due attention to cleanliness, daily washing and bathing the child in lukewarm water, washing its mouth after it has been applied to the breast, giving it pure air, and removing any obstruction in the bowels by the use of manna or tamarinds. THYME. These plants may be easily raised from seed, by slipping the roots and branches, and by cuttings; but the seed method is seldom practised, except with the second sort, or garden thyme. The seed should be sown in the early spring on light, rich, dry ground, which should be properly dug over, and the surface be made moderately smooth with the spade. As the seed is small, it should not be sown too thick, or be covered too deep: the seed is best sown while the ground is fresh stirred, either broad-cast on the surface, raking it in lightly, or in flat shallow drills, earthed over thinly: the plants appear in two or three weeks. It is necessary to be careful to keep them well weeded, giving occasional light waterings in dry weather; and by June they will require thinning, especially if the plants are to grow stocky, and with bushy full heads; in which case they should be set out to six or eight inches distance; when those thinned out may be planted in another place, in rows six or eight inches asunder, giving water till fresh rooted, keeping the whole clean from weeds by occasional hoeing between them in dry days, which will also stir the surface of the earth, and much improve the growth of the plants: they will be in perfection for use in summer, or early in autumn. Some think the common thyme best cultivated for kitchen use in beds or borders, in rows at least half a foot apart, employing for the purpose either the young seedling plants, which are fit to set out, or the root slips of old plants, each of which soon increase into plants of bushy growths proper for being cropped for the above use. It may also often be well cultivated as an edging to herbary and other compartments; in both of which methods the plants multiply exceedingly fast by offsets, and are abiding, furnishing the means of great future increase. Some should, however, always be annually raised from seed in the above manner, as such plants possess a stronger aromatic quality than those from old ones. When it is intended to increase any particular varieties, and continue them the same with certainty, it can only be effected by slips and cuttings. In respect to the offsets and slips, all the sorts multiply by offsets of the root and slips of the branches: the rooted slips are the most expeditious method, as the old plants increase into many offset stems rising from the root, each furnished with fibres; and by taking up the old plants in the spring, &c. and slipping or dividing them into separate parts, not too small, with roots to each, and planting them in beds of good earth, in rows half a foot asunder, giving water directly, and repeating it occasionally in dry weather till they have taken root, and begin to shoot at top; they soon grow freely, and form good bushy plants in two or three months. The strong slips of the branches without roots, succeed when planted any time in the early spring season in a shady border, in rows four or five inches distant, giving due waterings; and become good plants by autumn, when they may be planted out where they are to remain. The cuttings of the young branches grow readily, the same as the slips, when planted at the same season in a shady place, and well watered. The common thyme is in universal use as a pot-herb for various culinary purposes; it may also be employed in assemblage with other small plants, to embellish the fronts of flower-borders, shrubbery clumps, small and sloping banks, &c. placing the plants detached or singly, to form little bushy tufts, and in which the variegated sorts, and the silver thyme and lemon thyme particularly, form a very agreeable variety. The lemon thyme is also in much estimation for its peculiar odoriferous smell. Some of each of these sorts may also be potted, in order to be moved occasionally to any particular places as may be required, and under occasional shelter in severe winters, to preserve the plants more effectually in a lively state; likewise some of the mastick thyme. Spanish and Portugal thymes are also sometimes potted for the same purpose, and to place under the protection of a garden frame or greenhouse in winter, to continue them in a more fresh and lively growth; and sometimes some of the smaller thymes are sown or planted for edgings to particular beds or borders for variety, such as the lemon thyme, silver-leaved and variegated sorts; also occasionally the common thyme; and all kept low, close and regular, by clipping them at the sides and tops annually in the summer season. All the several sorts and varieties possess an aromatic quality, which principally resides in the leaves, whence it is imparted and affords a line agreeable fragrance. But the first three kinds are much the most noted and valued in kitchen gardens, and more especially the common thyme, which is so very useful as a culinary herb. TIN COVERS. Properly to clean tin covers and pewter pots, get the finest whiting, which is only sold in large cakes, the small being mixed with sand. Powder and mix a little of it with a drop of sweet oil, rub the pots and covers well with it, and wipe them clean. Then dust over some dry whiting in a muslin bag, and rub the articles bright with dry leather. The last is to prevent rust, which must be carefully guarded against by wiping thoroughly dry, and setting them by the fire when they come from table. If covers are once hung up without wiping, the steam will be sure to rust the inside. TINCTURE OF ALLSPICE. Bruise three ounces of allspice, and steep it in a quart of brandy. Shake it up occasionally and after a fortnight pour off the clear liquor. It makes a most grateful addition in all cases where allspice is used, in gravies, or to flavour and preserve potted meats. TINCTURE OF BARK. To make the compound tincture, take two ounces of Peruvian bark powdered, half an ounce of Seville orange peel, and half an ounce of bruised cinnamon. Infuse the whole in a pint and a half of brandy, let it stand five or six days in a close vessel, and then strain off the tincture. Take one or two tea-spoonfuls twice a day in any suitable liquor, sharpened with a few drops of the spirits of vitriol. This tincture is highly beneficial in intermitting fevers, and in slow, nervous, or putrid fevers, especially towards their decline. TINCTURE OF CINNAMON. This exhilirating cordial is made by pouring a bottle of the best brandy on three ounces of bruised cinnamon. A tea-spoonful of it, and a lump of sugar, in a glass of good sherry or madeira, with the yolk of an egg beaten up in it, was formerly considered as the balsam of life. Two tea-spoonfuls of it in a wine glass of water, are at present a very pleasant remedy in nervous languors, and in relaxations of the bowels. In the latter case, five drops of laudanum may be added to each dose. TINCTURE OF CLOVES. Bruise three ounces of cloves, steep them for ten days in a quart of brandy, and strain off the tincture through a flannel sieve. It imparts an excellent flavour to mulled wine. In all cases tinctures are to be preferred to essences, as affording a much finer flavour. TINCTURE OF LEMON PEEL. A very easy and economical way of obtaining and preserving the flavour of lemon peel, is to fill a wide-mouthed pint bottle half full of brandy or rum; and when a lemon is used, pare off the rind very thin, and put it into the spirits. In the course of a fortnight the liquor will be strongly flavoured with the lemon. TINCTURE OF NUTMEG. Steep three ounces of nutmeg in a quart of brandy, and let it stand a fortnight. Shake it up occasionally, and then pour off the clear liquor. TINCTURE OF RHUBARB. Take two ounces and a half of rhubarb, and half an ounce of lesser cardamon seeds; steep them for a week in a quart of brandy, and strain off the tincture. To make the bitter tincture of rhubarb, add an ounce of gentian root, and a dram of snake root. The tincture is of great use in case of indigestion, pain or weakness of the stomach; and from one to three or four spoonfuls may be taken every day. TINGEING OF GLASS. The art of tingeing glass of various colours is by mixing with it, while in a state of fusion, some of the metallic oxides; and on this process, well conducted, depends the formation of pastes. Blue glass is formed by means of oxide of cobalt; green, by the oxide of iron or copper; violet, by oxide of manganese; red, by a mixture of the oxides of copper and iron; purple, by the purple oxide of gold; white, by the oxides of arsenic and of zinc; yellow, by the oxide of silver, and by combustible bodies. TOAST AND WATER. Take a slice of fine and stale loaf-bread, cut very thin, (as thin as toast is ever cut) and let it be carefully toasted on both sides, until it be completely browned all over, but no wise blackened or burned in any way. Put this into a common deep stone or china jug, and pour over it, from the tea kettle, as much clean boiling water as you wish to make into drink. Much depends on the water being actually in a boiling state. Cover the jug with a saucer or plate, and let the drink stand until it be quite cold; it is then fit to be used; the fresher it is made the better, and of course the more agreeable. The above will be found a pleasant, light, and highly diuretic drink. It is peculiarly grateful to the stomach, and excellent for carrying off the effects of any excess in drinking. It is also a most excellent drink at meals, and may be used in the summer time, if more agreeable to the drinker. TOASTED CHEESE. Mix some fine butter, made mustard, and salt, into a mass. Spread it on fresh made thin toasts, and grate some Gloucester cheese upon them. TOMATOES. These are chiefly used in soups and sauces, and serve as little dishes at table at any part of a dinner. When they are to be baked, cut the tomatoes lengthways in the middle, with the part where there is a rind downwards. Strew upon each a seasoning of pepper, salt, and sweet herbs chopped small. Set them in the oven till they are soft, and serve them up, without any other sauce. The fruit of the purple egg plant is eaten, prepared in the same manner. TOMATA SAUCE. For hot or cold meats put tomatas, when perfectly ripe, into an earthen jar. Set it in an oven when the bread is drawn, till they are quite soft; then separate the skins from the pulp, and mix this with capsicum vinegar, and a few cloves of pounded garlic, which must both be proportioned to the quantity of fruit. Add powdered ginger and salt to taste. Some white wine vinegar and cayenne may be used instead of capsicum vinegar. Keep the mixture in small wide-mouthed bottles, well corked, and in a cool dry place. TONGUES. When a tongue is intended to be eaten cold, season it with common salt and saltpetre, brown sugar, a little bay salt, pepper, cloves, mace, and allspice, in fine powder, and let it lie a fortnight. Then take away the pickle, put the tongue into a small pan, and lay some butter on it. Cover it with brown crust, and bake it slowly till it becomes so tender that a straw would go through it. The thin part of tongues, when hung up to dry, grates like hung beef, and also makes a fine addition to the flavour of omlets.--To boil a tongue. If it is a dried tongue, soak it over night; the next day put it into cold water, and let it have a good deal of room; it will take at least four hours. If it is a green tongue out of the pickle, you need not soak it, but it will require near the same time. About an hour before you send it to table, take it out and blanch it, then put it into the pot again till you want it, by this means it will eat the tenderer. TONGUE AND UDDER. Clean the tongue nicely, rub it with salt, a very little saltpetre, and a little coarse sugar, and let it lie for two or three days. When to be dressed, have a fresh tender udder with some fat to it, and boil that and the tongue gently till half done. Take them very clean out of the water, then tie the thick end of the one to the thin end of the other, and roast them with a few cloves stuck into the udder. Serve them up with gravy in the dish, and currant jelly in a tureen. A dried tongue to be boiled, requires to be previously soaked for ten or twelve hours. A tongue out of pickle is only to be washed, and boiled in the same way. It will take four hours to do it well, and for the first two hours it should only simmer. About an hour before it is done it should be taken up and peeled, and then put into the boiler again to finish it. Serve it up with turnips nicely mashed, and laid round it. TOOTH ACH. The best possible preventive of this disorder is to keep the teeth clean, as directed for the Teeth and Gums. If the gums be inflamed, recourse should be had to bleeding by leeches, and blisters behind the ears. A few drops of laudanum in cotton, laid on the tooth, will sometimes afford relief. In some cases, vitriolic æther dropped on the cheek, and the hand held to the part till the liquid is evaporated, is found to answer the purpose. But it is much easier to prescribe the means of preventing the disorder, than to point out a specific remedy; and the nostrums generally given on this subject are either ineffectual or injurious. TOURTE CRUST. To make a crust for French pies called tourtes, take a pound and a half of fine flour, a pound of butter, and three quarters of an ounce of salt. Put the flour upon a clean pie board, make a hole in the middle, and put in the salt, with the butter cut into small pieces. Pour in the water carefully, as it is of great importance that the crust be rather stiff; and for this purpose there should only be just water enough to make it hold together so as to roll it out smooth. Work up the butter and water well together with the hand, and mix it in the flour by degrees. When the flour is all mixed in, mould the paste till it is quite smooth and free from lumps, and let it lie two hours before it be used. This is a very nice crust for putting round the dish for baked puddings. TOURTES OF FISH. Prepare the crust and put it into the dish, as for meat tourtes. Then take almost any kind of fish, cut them from the backbone, and lay them in slices upon the crust, with a little bunch of sweet herbs in the middle, some salt and pounded spice, according to the taste. Lay butter all over the top crust, and bake it an hour and a half. Cut the crust round after it is baked, take out the herbs, skim off the remainder of the fat, pour on a sauce of fish gravy, and serve it up. Mushrooms are very nice in the sauce, and so are capers, but the flavour of the sauce must be regulated by the taste. Truffles and morels may also be put in, as in the meat tourtes. Eels, pike, salmon, tench, whiting, are proper for the purpose. Nothing makes a nicer tourte in this way than large soles, taking off the flesh from the backbone, without the side fins. Lobsters also make an excellent tourte, and oysters are very nice mixed with other fish. TOURTES OF MEAT. Prepare a crust of paste, roll it out, and line a dish with it not deeper than a common plate. Veal, chicken, pigeons, sweetbread, or game of any kind, may be prepared as follows. Cut in pieces whichever is preferred, just heat it in water, drain it, season it with pepper and salt, lay it upon the crust without piling it up high, and leave a border round the rim of the dish. Place some pieces of butter upon the meat to keep it moist, and add truffles, mushrooms, morels, artichoke bottoms, or forcemeat balls, at pleasure. Cover the whole with slices of fat bacon, and then lay a crust over it exactly corresponding with that underneath. Glaze over the upper crust with yolk of egg, and set the tourte into an oven. When it has been in a quarter of an hour, draw it to the mouth of the oven, and make a hole in the centre of the crust to let out the fumes. Let it stand nearly three hours longer in the oven, then take it out, cut the crust round with the rim, take it off, take out the bacon, and clear off any fat that may remain on the top. Have ready a rich ragout sauce to pour over it, then replace the crust, and serve it up. This dish is according to the French fashion. TRANSPARENT MARMALADE. Cut the palest Seville oranges in quarters, take out the pulp, and put it in a bason, picking out the seeds and skins. Let the outsides soak in water with a little salt all night, then boil them in a good quantity of spring water till tender; drain, and cut them in very thin slices, and put them to the pulp. To every pound, add a pound and a half of double-refined sugar beaten fine; boil them together twenty minutes, but be careful not to break the slices. It must be stirred all the time very gently, and put into glasses when cold. TRANSPARENT PAINTINGS. The paper must be fixed in a straining frame, in order to place it between the eye and the light, when required. After tracing the design, the colours must be laid on, in the usual method of stained drawings. When the tints are got in, place the picture against the window, on a pane of glass framed for the purpose, and begin to strengthen the shadows with Indian ink, or with colours, according as the effect requires; laying the colours sometimes on both sides of the paper, to give greater force and depth of colour. The last touches for giving final strength to shadows and forms, are to be done with ivory black or lamp black, prepared with gum water; as there is no pigment so opaque, and capable of giving strength and decision. When the drawing is finished, and every part has got its depth of colour and brilliancy, being perfectly dry, touch very carefully with spirits of turpentine, on both sides, those parts which are to be the brightest, such as the moon and fire; and those parts requiring less brightness, only on one side. Then lay on immediately with a pencil, a varnish made by dissolving one ounce of Canada balsam in an equal quantity of spirit of turpentine. Be cautious with the varnish, as it is apt to spread. When the varnish is dry, tinge the flame with red lead and gamboge, slightly touching the smoke next the flame. The moon must not be tinted with colour. Much depends on the choice of the subject, and none is so admirably adapted to this species of effect, as the gloomy Gothic ruin, whose antique towers and pointed turrets finely contrast their dark battlements with the pale yet brilliant moon. The effect of rays passing through the ruined windows, half choked with ivy; or of a fire among the clustering pillars and broken monuments of the choir, round which are figures of banditti, or others, whose haggard faces catch the reflecting light; afford a peculiarity of effect not to be equaled in any other species of painting. Internal views of cathedrals also, where windows of stained glass are introduced, have a beautiful effect. The great point to be attained is, a happy coincidence between the subject and the effect produced. The fine light should not be too near the moon, as its glare would tend to injure her pale silver light. Those parts which are not interesting, should be kept in an undistinguishing gloom; and where the principal light is, they should be marked with precision. Groups of figures should be well contrasted; those in shadow crossing those that are in light, by which means the opposition of light against shade is effected. TRANSPARENT PUDDING. Beat up eight eggs, put them into a stewpan, with half a pound of sugar finely pounded, the same quantity of butter, and some grated nutmeg. Set it on the fire, and keep it stirring till it thickens. Then set it into a basin to cool, put a rich puff paste round the dish, pour in the pudding, and bake it in a moderate oven. It will cut light and clear. Candied orange and citron may be added if approved. TRANSPLANTING OF FLOWERS. Annuals and perennials, sown in March or April, may be transplanted about the end of May. A showery season is preferable, or they must frequently be watered till they have taken root. In the summer time the evening is the proper season, and care should be taken not to break the fibres in digging up the root. Chinasters, columbines, marigolds, pinks, stocks, hollyhocks, mallows, sweetwilliams, wallflowers, and various others, may be sown and transplanted in this manner. TRAPS. Garden traps, such as are contrived for the purpose of destroying mice and other vermin; which are often conveyed into such places with the straw, litter, and other matters that are made use of in them; and which are extremely hurtful and troublesome in the spring season, in destroying peas and beans, as well as lettuces, melons, and cucumbers in frames. Traps for this purpose are contrived in a great many ways; but as field vermin are very shy, and will rarely enter traps which are close, the following simple cheap form has been advised, though it has nothing of novelty in it. These traps may be made by stringing garden beans on a piece of fine pack-thread, in the manner of beads, and then driving two small stake-like pieces of wood into the ground at the breadth of a brick from each other, and setting up a brick, flat stone, or board with a weight on it, inclining to an angle of about forty-five degrees; tying the string, with the beans on it, round the brick or other substances and stakes, to support them in their inclining position, being careful to place all the beans on the under sides of the bricks or other matters. The mice in eating the beans, in such cases, will also destroy the pack-thread, and by such means disengage the brick or other weighty body, which by falling on them readily destroys them. Mice are always best got rid of by some sort of simple open traps of this nature. TREACLE BEER. Pour two quarts of boiling water on a pound of treacle, and stir them together. Add six quarts of cold water, and a tea-cupful of yeast. Tun it into a cask, cover it close down, and it will be fit to drink in two or three days. If made in large quantities, or intended to keep, put in a handful of malt and hops, and when the fermentation is over, stop it up close. TREACLE POSSET. Add two table-spoonfuls of treacle to a pint of milk, and when ready to boil, stir it briskly over the fire till it curdles. Strain it off after standing covered a few minutes. This whey promotes perspiration, is suitable for a cold, and children will take it very freely. TREATMENT OF CHILDREN. It ought to be an invariable rule with all who have the care of children, to give them food only when it is needful. Instead of observing this simple and obvious rule, it is too common, throughout every period of childhood, to pervert the use of food by giving it when it is not wanted, and consequently when it does mischief, not only in a physical but in a moral point of view. To give food as an indulgence, or in a way of reward, or to withhold it as a matter of punishment, are alike injurious. A proper quantity of food is necessary in all cases, to sustain their health and growth; and their faults ought to be corrected by more rational means. The idea of making them suffer in their health and growth on account of their behaviour, is sufficient to fill every considerate mind with horror. It is the project only of extreme weakness, to attempt to correct the disposition by creating bodily sufferings, which are so prone to hurt the temper, even at an age when reason has gained a more powerful ascendancy. Eatables usually given to children by well-meaning but injudicious persons, in order to pacify or conciliate, are still worse than the privations inflicted by way of punishment. Sugar plums, sugar candy, barley sugar, sweetmeats, and most kinds of cakes, are unwholesome, and cloying to the appetite. Till children begin to run about, the uniformity of their lives makes it probable that the quantity of food they require in the day is nearly the same, and that it may be given to them statedly at the same time. By establishing a judicious regularity with regard to both, much benefit will accrue to their health and comfort. The same rule should be applied to infants at the breast, as well as after they are weaned. By allowing proper intervals between the times of giving children suck, the breast of the mother becomes duly replenished with milk, and the stomach of the infant properly emptied to receive a fresh supply. The supposition that an infant wants food every time it cries, is highly fanciful; and it is perfectly ridiculous to see the poor squalling thing thrown on its back, and nearly suffocated with food to prevent its crying, when it is more likely that the previous uneasiness arises from an overloaded stomach. Even the mother's milk, the lightest of all food, will disagree with the child, if the administration of it is improperly repeated. A very injurious practice is sometimes adopted, in suckling a child beyond the proper period, which ought by all means to be discountenanced, as evidently unnatural, and tending to produce weakness both in body and mind. Suckling should not be continued after the cutting of the first teeth, when the clearest indication is given, that the food which was adapted to the earliest stage of infancy ceases to be proper. Attention should also be paid to the quantity as well as to quality of the food given, for though a child will sleep with an overloaded stomach, it will not be the refreshing sleep of health. When the stomach is filled beyond the proper medium, it induces a similar kind of heaviness to that arising from opiates and intoxicating liquors; and instead of awakening refreshed and lively, the child will be heavy and fretful. By the time that children begin to run about, the increase of their exercise will require an increase of nourishment: but those who overload them with food at any time, in hopes of strengthening them, are very much deceived. No prejudice is equally fatal to such numbers of children. Whatever unnecessary food a child receives, weakens instead of strengthening it: for when the stomach is overfilled, its power of digestion is impaired, and food undigested is so far from yielding nourishment, that it only serves to debilitate the whole system, and to occasion a variety of diseases. Amongst these are obstructions, distention of the body, rickets, scrophula, slow fevers, consumptions, and convulsion fits. Another pernicious custom prevails with regard to the diet of children, when they begin to take other nourishment besides their mother's milk, and that is by giving them such as their stomachs are unable to digest, and indulging them also in a mixture of such things at their meals as are hurtful to every body, and more especially to children, considering the feeble and delicate state of their organs. This injudicious indulgence is sometimes defended on the plea of its being necessary to accustom them to all kinds of food; but this idea is highly erroneous. Their stomachs must have time to acquire strength sufficient to enable them to digest varieties of food; and the filling them with indigestible things is not the way to give them strength. Children can only acquire strength gradually with their proper growth, which will always be impeded if the stomach is disordered. Food for infants should be very simple, and easy of digestion. When they require something more solid than spoonmeats alone, they should have bread with them. Plain puddings, mild vegetables, and wholesome ripe fruits, eaten with bread, are also good for them. Animal food is better deferred till their increased capacity for exercise will permit it with greater safety, and then care must be taken that the exercise be proportioned to this kind of food. The first use of it should be gradual, not exceeding two or three times in a week. An exception should be made to these rules in the instances of scrophulous and rickety children, as much bread is always hurtful in these cases, and fruits are particularly pernicious. Plain animal food is found to be the most suitable to their state. The utmost care should be taken under all circumstances to procure genuine unadulterated bread for children, as the great support of life. If the perverted habits of the present generation give them an indifference as to what bread they eat, or a vitiated taste for adulterated bread, they still owe it to their children as a sacred duty, not to undermine their constitution by this injurious composition. The poor, and many also of the middling ranks of society are unhappily compelled to this species of infanticide, as it may almost be called, by being driven into large towns to gain a subsistence, and thus, from the difficulty of doing otherwise, being obliged to take their bread of bakers, instead of making wholesome bread at home, as in former times, in more favourable situations. While these are to be pitied, what shall be said of those whose fortunes place them above this painful necessity. Let them at at least rear their children on wholesome food, and with unsophisticated habits, as the most unequivocal testimony of parental affection performing its duty towards its offspring. It is proper also to observe, that children ought not to be hurried in their eating, as it is of great importance that they should acquire a habit of chewing their food well. They will derive from it the various advantages of being less likely to eat their food hot, of thus preparing what they eat properly for the stomach, instead of imposing upon it what is the real office of the teeth; and also that of checking them from eating too much. When food is not properly masticated, the stomach is longer before it feels satisfied; which is perhaps the most frequent, and certainly the most excusable cause of eating more than is fairly sufficient. Thoughtless people will often, for their own amusement, give children morsels of high dishes, and sips of spirituous or fermented liquors, to see whether they will relish them, or make faces at them. But trifling as this may seem, it would be better that it were never practised, for the sake of preserving the natural purity of their tastes as long as possible. TREATMENT OF THE SICK. Though an unskilful dabbling in cases of illness, which require the attention of the most medical practitioners, is both dangerous and presumptuous; yet it is quite necessary that those who have the care of a family should be able to afford some relief in case of need, as well as those whose duty it is more immediately to attend upon the sick. Uneasy symptoms are experienced at times by all persons, not amounting to a decided state of disease, which if neglected may nevertheless issue in some serious disorder that might have been prevented, not only without risk, but even with greater advantage to the individual than by an application to a positive course of medicine. Attention to the state of the bowels, and the relief that may frequently be afforded by a change of diet, come therefore very properly within the sphere of domestic management, in connection with a few simple medicines in common use. The sensations of lassitude or weariness, stiffness or numbness, less activity than usual, less appetite, a load or heaviness at the stomach, some uneasiness in the head, a more profound degree of sleep, yet less composed and refreshing than usual; less gaiety and liveliness, a slight oppression of the breast, a less regular pulse, a propensity to be cold, or to perspire, or sometimes a suppression of a former disposition to perspire, are any of them symptomatic of a diseased state, though not to any very serious or alarming degree. Yet under such circumstances persons are generally restless, and scarcely know what to do with themselves; and often for the sake of change, or on the supposition that their sensations proceed from lowness, they unhappily adopt the certain means of making them terminate in dangerous if not fatal diseases. They increase their usual quantity of animal food, leave off vegetables and fruit, drink freely of wine or other strong liquors, under an idea of strengthening the stomach, and expelling wind; all of which strengthen nothing but the disposition to disease, and expel only the degree of health yet remaining. The consequence of this mistaken management is, that all the evacuations are restrained, the humours causing and nourishing the disease are not at all attempered and diluted, nor rendered proper for evacuation. On the contrary they become sharper, and more difficult to be discharged. By judicious management it is practicable, if not entirely to prevent a variety of disorders, yet at least to abate their severity, and so to avert the ultimate danger. As soon as any of the symptoms begin to appear, the proper way is to avoid all violent or laborious exercise, and to indulge in such only as is gentle and easy. To take very little or no solid food, and particularly to abstain from meat, or flesh broth, eggs, and wine, or other strong liquors. To drink plentifully of weak diluting liquor, by small glasses at a time, at intervals of about half an hour. If these diluents are not found to answer the purpose of keeping the bowels open, stronger cathartics must be taken, or injections for the bowels, called lavements. By pursuing these precautions, the early symptoms of disease will often be removed, without coming to any serious issue: and even where this is not the case, the disorder will be so lessened as to obviate any kind of danger from it. When confirmed diseases occur, the only safe course is to resort to the most skilful medical assistance that can be obtained. Good advice and few medicines will much sooner effect a cure, than all the drugs of the apothecary's shop unskilfully administered. But the success of the best advice may be defeated, if the patient and his attendants will not concur to render it effectual. If the patient is to indulge longings for improper diet, and his friends are to gratify them, the advantage of the best advice may be defeated by one such imprudent measure. Patients labouring under accidents which require surgical assistance, must be required strictly to attend to the same directions. General regulations are all that a physician or surgeon can make respecting diet, many other circumstances will therefore require the consideration of those who attend upon the sick, and it is of consequence that they be well prepared to undertake their charge, for many fatal mistakes have arisen from ignorance and prejudice in these cases. A few rules that may be referred to in the absence of a medical adviser, are all that are necessary in the present instance, more especially when the patient is so far recovered as to be released from medicines, and put under a proper regimen, with the use of a gentle exercise, and such other regulations as a convalescent state requires.--When for example, persons are labouring under acute disorders, or accidents, they are frequently known to suffer from the injudiciousness of those about them, in covering them up in bed with a load of clothes that heat and debilitate them exceedingly, or in keeping them in bed when the occasion does not require it, without even suffering them to get up and have it new made, and by never allowing a breath of fresh air to be admitted into the room. The keeping patients quiet is undoubtedly of essential importance; they should not be talked to, nor should more persons be admitted into the room than are absolutely necessary. Every thing that might prove offensive should immediately be removed. Sprinkling the room sometimes with vinegar, will contribute to keep it in a better state. The windows should be opened occasionally for a longer or shorter time, according to the weather and season of the year, without suffering the air to come immediately upon the patient. Waving the chamber door backward and forward for a few minutes, two or three times in a day, ventilates the room, without exposing the sick person to chilness. Occasionally burning pastils in the room, or a roll of paper, is also useful. The bed linen, and that of the patient, should be changed every day, or in two or three days, as circumstances may require. A strict forbearance from giving sick persons any nourishment beyond what is prescribed by their medical attendant, should invariably be observed. Some persons think they do well in this respect to cheat the doctor, while in fact they cheat the patient out of the benefit of his advice, and endanger his life under a pretence of facilitating his recovery. In all cases it is important to wait with patience the slow progress of recovery, rather than by injudicious means to attempt to hasten it; otherwise the desired event will only be retarded. What has long been undermining the stamina of health, which is commonly the case with diseases, or what has violently shocked it by accident, can only be removed by slow degrees. Medicines will not operate like a charm; and even when they are most efficacious, time is required to recover from the languid state to which persons are always reduced, both by accident and by disease. When the period is arrived at which sick persons may be said to be out of danger, a great deal of patience and care will still be necessary to prevent a relapse. Much of this will depend on the convalescent party being content for some time with only a moderate portion of food, for we are not nourished in proportion to what we swallow, but to what we are well able to digest. Persons on their recovery, who eat moderately, digest their food, and grow strong from it. Those in a weak state, who eat much, do not digest it; instead therefore of being nourished and strengthened by it, they insensibly wither away. The principal rules to be observed in this case are, that persons in sickness, or those who are slowly recovering, should take very little nourishment at a time, and take it often. Let them have only one sort of food at each meal, and not change their food too often; and be careful that they chew their food well, to make it easy of digestion. Let them diminish their quantity of drink. The best drink for them in general is water, with a third or fourth part of white wine. Too great a quantity of liquids at such a time prevents the stomach from recovering its tone and strength, impairs digestion, promotes debility, increases the tendency to a swelling of the legs; sometimes it even occasions a slow fever, and throws back the patient into a languid state. Persons recovering from sickness should take as much exercise in the open air as they are able to bear, either on foot, in a carriage, or on horseback: the latter is by far the best. The airing should be taken in the middle of the day, when the weather is temperate, or before the principal meal. Exercise taken before a meal strengthens the organs of digestion, and therefore tends to health; but when taken after a meal, it is injurious. As persons in this state are seldom quite so well towards night, they should take very little food in the evening, in order that their sleep may be less disturbed and more refreshing. It would be better not to remain in bed above seven or eight hours; and if they feel fatigued by sitting up, let them lie down for half an hour to rest. The swelling of the legs and ancles, which happens to most persons in a state of weakness and debility, is attended with no danger, and will generally disappear of itself, if they live soberly and regularly, and take moderate exercise. The most solicitous attention must be paid to the state of the bowels; and if they are not regular, they must be kept open every day by artificial means, or it will produce heat and restlessness, and pains in the head. Care should be taken not to return to hard labour too soon after recovering from illness; some persons have never recovered their usual strength for want of this precaution.--Common colds, though lightly regarded, are often of serious consequence. A cold is an inflammatory disease, though in no greater degree than to affect the lungs or throat, or the thin membrane which lines the nostrils, and the inside of certain cavities in the bones of the cheeks and forehead. These cavities communicate with the nose in such a manner, that when one part of this membrane is affected with inflammation, it is easily communicated to the rest. When the disorder is of this slight kind, it may easily be cured without medicine, by only abstaining from meat, eggs, broth, and wine; from all food that is sharp, fat, and heavy. Little or no supper should be eaten, but the person should drink freely of an infusion of barley, or of elder flowers, with the addition of a third or fourth part of milk. Bathing the feet in warm water before going to bed, will dispose the patient to sleep. In colds of the head, the steam of warm water alone, or of water in which elder flowers or some mild aromatic herbs have been boiled, will generally afford speedy relief. These also are serviceable in colds which affect the breast. Hot and close rooms are very hurtful in colds, as they tend to impede respiration; and sitting much over the fire increases the disorder. Spermaceti is often taken in colds and coughs, which must from its greasy nature impair the digestive faculty, and cannot operate against the cause of a cold; though the cure of it, which is effected in due time by the economy of nature, is often ascribed to such medicines as may rather have retarded it. Whenever a cold does not yield to the simple treatment already described, good advice should be procured, as a neglected cold is often the origin of very serious disorders.--A few observations on the nature of the diet and drink proper for sickly persons, will be necessary at the close of this article, for the information of those who occasionally undertake the care of the afflicted. As the digestion of sick persons is weak, and very similar to that of children, the diet suited to the latter is generally proper for the former, excepting in the two great classes of diseases called putrid and intermittent fevers. In case of putrid fever no other food should be allowed, during the first weeks of recovery, than the mildest vegetable substances. When recovering from agues and intermittent fevers, animal jellies, and plain animal food, with as little vegetable as possible, is the proper diet. Meat and meat broth, generally speaking, are not so well adapted for the re-establishment of health and strength, as more simple diets. Flesh being the food most used by old and young at all other times, is consequently that from which their distempers chiefly proceed, or at least it nourishes those disorders which other causes may have contributed to introduce. It is of a gross, phlegmatic nature and oily quality, and therefore harder of digestion than many other sorts of food, tending to generate gross humours and thick blood, which are very unfavourable to the recovery of health. The yolk of an egg lightly boiled or beaten up raw with a little wine may be taken, when animal food is not forbidden, and the party cannot chew or swallow more solid food. The spoonmeats and drinks directed for children, and simple puddings made as for them, may all be used for invalids, subject only to the restrictions imposed by their medical attendant. Puddings and panadoes made of bread are better for weak stomachs than those made of flour.--Diet drinks may be made of an infusion of herbs, grains, or seeds. For this purpose the herbs should be gathered in their proper season, then dried in the shade, and put into close paper bags. When wanted for use, take out the proper quantity, put it into a linen bag, suspend it in the beer or ale, while it is fermenting, from two to six or eight hours, and then take it out. Wormwood ought not to be infused so long; three or four hours will be sufficient, or it will become nauseous, and soon turn to putrefaction. The same is to be understood in infusing any sort of well-prepared herbs, and great care is required in all preparations of this kind that the pure properties are neither evaporated, nor overpowered by the bad ones. Beer, ale, or any other liquor in which herbs are infused, must be unadulterated, or the benefit of these infusions will be destroyed by its pernicious qualities. Nothing is more prejudicial to health than adulterated liquors, or liquors that are debased by any corrupting vegetable substance. Those things which in their purest state are of a doubtful character, and never to be trusted without caution, are by this means converted into decided poisons.--Herb Tea of any kind should always be made with a moderate proportion of the herb. When the tea is of a proper strength, the herb should be taken out, or it will become nauseous by long infusion. These kinds of tea are best used quite fresh.--Herb Porridge may be made of elder buds, nettle tops, clivers, and water cresses. Mix up a proper quantity of oatmeal and water, and set it on the fire. When just ready to boil, put in the herbs, cut or uncut; and when ready again to boil, lade it to and fro to prevent its boiling. Continue this operation six or eight minutes, then take it off the fire, and let it stand awhile. It may either be eaten with the herbs, or strained, and should not be eaten warmer than new milk. A little butter, salt, and bread, may be added. Another way is, to set some oatmeal and water on a quick fire; and when it is scalding hot, put in a good quantity of spinage, corn salad, tops of pennyroyal, and mint cut small. Let it stand on the fire till ready to boil, then pour it up and down six or seven minutes, and let it stand off the fire that the oatmeal may sink to the bottom. Strain it, and add butter, salt, and bread. When it is about milk-warm it will be fit to eat. This is an excellent porridge, pleasant to the palate and stomach, cleansing the passages by opening obstructions. It also breeds good blood, thus enlivens the spirits, and makes the whole body active and easy.--A Cooling Drink may be made of two ounces of whole barley, washed and cleansed in hot water, and afterwards boiled in five pints of water till the barley opens. Add a quarter of an ounce of cream of tartar, and strain off the liquor. Or bruise three ounces of the freshest sweet almonds, and an ounce of gourd melon seeds in a marble mortar, adding a pint of water, a little at a time, and then strain it through a piece of linen. Bruise the remainder of the almonds and seeds again, with another pint of water added as before; then strain it, and repeat this process a third time. After this, pour all the liquor upon the bruised mass, stir it well, and finally strain it off. Half an ounce of sugar may safely be bruised with the almonds and seeds at first; or if it be thought too heating, a little orange-flower water may be used instead.--Currant Drink. Put a pound of the best red currants, fully ripe and clean picked, into a stone bottle. Mix three spoonfuls of good new yeast with six pints of hot water, and pour it upon the currants. Stop the bottle close till the liquor ferments, then give it as much vent as is necessary, keep it warm, and let it ferment for about three days. Taste it in the mean time to try whether it is become pleasant; and as soon as it is so, run it through a strainer, and bottle it off. It will be ready to drink in five or six days.--Boniclapper is another article suited to the state of sickly and weakly persons. Boniclapper is milk which has stood till it has acquired a pleasant sourish taste, and a thick slippery substance. In very hot weather this will be in about twenty-four hours from the time of its being milked, but longer in proportion as the weather is colder. If put into vessels which have been used for milk to be soured in, it will change the sooner. New milk must always be used for this purpose. Boniclapper is an excellent food at all times, particularly for those who are troubled with any kind of stoppages; it powerfully opens the breast and passages, is itself easy of digestion, and helps to digest all hard or sweeter foods. It also cools and cleanses the whole body, renders it brisk and lively, and is very efficacious in quenching thirst. No other sort of milkmeat or spoonmeat is so proper and beneficial for consumptive persons, or such as labour under great weakness and debility. It should be eaten with bread only, and it will be light and easy on the stomach, even when new milk is found to disagree. If this soured milk should become unpleasant at first, a little custom and use will not only render it familiar, but agreeable to the stomach and palate; and those who have neither wisdom nor patience to submit to a transient inconvenience, will never have an opportunity of knowing the intrinsic value of any thing. To these may be added a variety of other articles adapted to a state of sickness and disease, which will be found under their respective heads; such as Beef Tea, Flummery, Jellies of various kinds, Lemon Whey, Vinegar Whey, Cream of Tartar Whey, Mustard Whey, Treacle Posset, Buttermilk, Onion Porridge, Water Gruel, and Wormwood Ale. TREES. Several different methods have been proposed of preventing the bark being eaten off by hares and rabbits in the winter season; such as twisting straw-ropes round the trees; driving in small flat stakes all about them; and the use of strong-scented oils. But better and neater modes have lately been suggested; as with hog's lard, and as much whale-oil as will work it up into a thin paste or paint, with which the stems of the trees are to be gently rubbed upwards, at the time of the fall of the leaf. It may be done once in two years, and will, it is said, effectually prevent such animals from touching them. Another and still neater method, is to take three pints of melted tallow to one pint of tar, mixing them well together over a gentle fire. Then, in the month of November, to take a small brush and go over the rind or bark of the trees with the composition in a milk-warm state, as thin as it can be laid on with the brush. It is found that such a coating does not hinder the juices or sap from expanding in the smallest degree; and the efficacy of the plan is proved, in preventing the attacks of the animals, by applying the liquid composition to one tree and missing another, when it was found that the former was left, while the latter was attacked. Its efficacy has been shewn by the experience of five years. The trees that were gone over the first two years have not been touched since; and none of them have been injured by the hares.--The Mossing of trees is their becoming much affected and covered with the moss-plant or mossy substance. It is found to prevail in fruit-grounds of the apple kind, and in other situations, when they are in low, close, confined places, where the damp or moisture of the trees is not readily removed. It is thought to be an indication of weakness in the growth, or of a diseased state of the trees, and to require nice attention in preventing or eradicating it. The modes of removing it have usually been those of scraping, rubbing, and washing, but they are obviously calculated for trees only on a small scale. How far the use of powdery matters, such as lime, chalk, and others, which are capable of readily absorbing and taking up the wetness that may hang about the branches, and other parts of the trees, by being well dusted over them, may be beneficial, is not known, but they would seem to promise success by the taking away the nourishment and support of the moss, when employed at proper seasons. And they are known to answer in destroying moss in some other cases, when laid about the stems of the plants, as in thorn-hedges, &c. The mossing in all sorts of trees is injurious to their growth by depriving them of a portion of their nourishment, but more particularly hurtful to those of the fruit-tree kind, as preventing them from bearing full good crops of fruit by rendering them in a weak and unhealthy state.----The following are substances destructive of insects infesting fruit shrubs and trees in gardening, or of preventing their injurious ravages and effects on trees. Many different kinds of substances have been recommended for the purpose, at different times; but nothing perhaps has yet been found fully effectual in this intention, in all cases. The substances and modes directed below have lately been advised as useful in this way. As preventives against gooseberry caterpillars, which so greatly infest and injure shrubs of that kind, the substances mentioned below have been found very simple and efficacious. In the autumnal season, let a quantity of cow-urine be provided, and let a little be poured around the stem of each bush or shrub, just as much as merely suffices to moisten the ground about them. This simple expedient is stated to have succeeded in an admirable manner, and that its preventive virtues have appeared to extend to two successive seasons or years. The bushes which were treated in this manner remained free from caterpillars, while those which were neglected, or intentionally passed by, in the same compartment, were wholly destroyed by the depredations of the insects. Another mode of prevention is proposed, which, it is said, is equally simple and effectual; but the good effects of which only extend to the season immediately succeeding to that of the application. This is, in situations near the sea, to collect as much drift or sea-weed from the beach, when occasion serves, as will be sufficient to cover the whole of the gooseberry compartment to the depth of four or five inches. It should be laid on in the autumn, and the whole covering remain untouched during the winter and early spring months; but as the fruiting season advances, be dug in. This method, it is said, has answered the most sanguine expectations; no caterpillars ever infesting the compartments which are treated in this manner. Another method, which is said to have been found successful, in preventing or destroying caterpillars on the above sort of fruit shrubs, is this: as the black currant and elder bushes, growing quite close to those of the gooseberry kind, were not attacked by this sort of vermin, it was conceived that an infusion of their leaves might be serviceable, especially when prepared with a little quick-lime, in the manner directed below. Six pounds each of the two first sorts of leaves are to be boiled in twelve gallons of soft water; then fourteen pounds of hot lime are to be put into twelve gallons of water, and, after being well incorporated with it, they are both to be mixed well together. With this mixture the infested gooseberry bushes by fruit trees are to be well washed or the hand garden-engine; after which a little hot lime is to be taken and laid about the root of each bush or tree so washed, which completes the work. Thus the caterpillars will be completely destroyed, without hurting the foliage of the bushes or trees in any way. A dull day is to be preferred for performing the work of washing, &c. As soon as all the foliage is dropped off from the bushes or trees, they are to be again washed over with the hand-engine, in order to clean them of all decayed leaves, and other matters; for which purpose any sort of water will answer. The surface of the earth, all about the roots of the bushes and trees, is then to be well stirred, and a little hot lime again laid about them, to destroy the ova or eggs of the insects. This mode of management has never failed of success, in the course of six years' practice. It is noticed, that the above quantity of prepared liquid will be sufficient for about two acres of ground in this sort of plantation, and cost but little in providing. The use of about a gallon of a mixture of equal proportions of lime-water, chamber-ley, and soap-suds, with as much soot as will give it the colour and consistence of dunghill drainings, to each bush in the rows, applied by means of the rose of a watering-pot, immediately as the ground between them is dug over, and left as rough as possible, the whole being gone over in this way without treading or poaching the land, has also been found highly successful by others. The whole is then left in the above state until the winter frosts are fairly past, when the ground between the rows and bushes are levelled, and raked over in an even manner. By this means of practice, the bushes have been constantly kept healthy, fruitful, and free from the annoyance of insects. The bushes are to be first pruned, and dung used where necessary. A solution of soft soap, mixed with an infusion of tobacco, has likewise been applied with great use in destroying caterpillars, by squirting it by the hand-syringe upon the bushes, while a little warm, twice in the day. But some think that the only safety is in picking them off the bushes, as they first appear, together with the lower leaves which are eaten into holes: also, the paring, digging over, and clearing the foul ground between the bushes, and treading and forcing such foul surface parts into the bottoms of the trenches. Watering cherry-trees with water prepared from quick-lime new burnt, and common soda used in washing, in the proportion of a peck of the former and half a pound of the latter to a hogshead of water, has been found successful in destroying the green fly and the black vermin which infest such trees. The water should stand upon the lime for twenty-four hours, and be then drawn off by a cock placed in the cask, ten or twelve inches from the bottom, when the soda is to be put to it, being careful not to exceed the above proportion, as, from its acridity, it would otherwise be liable to destroy the foliage. Two or three times watering with this liquor, by means of a garden engine, will destroy and remove the vermin. The application of clay-paint, too, has been found of great utility in destroying the different insects, such as the coccus, thrips, and fly, which infest peach, nectarine, and other fine fruit trees, on walls, and in hot-houses. This paint is prepared by taking a quantity of the most tenacious brown clay, and diffusing it in as much soft water as will bring it to the consistence of a thick cream or paint, passing it through a fine sieve or hair-searce, so as that it may be rendered perfectly smooth, unctuous, and free from gritty particles. As soon as the trees are pruned and nailed in, they are all to be carefully gone over with a painter's brush dipped in the above paint, especially the stems and large branches, as well as the young shoots, which leaves a coat or layer, that, when it becomes dry, forms a hard crust over the whole tree, which, by closely enveloping the insects, completely destroys them, without doing any injury to either the bark or buds. And by covering the trees with mats or canvas in wet seasons, it may be preserved on them as long as necessary. Where one dressing is not effectual, it may be repeated; and the second coating will mostly be sufficient. Where peach and nectarine trees are managed with this paint, they are very rarely either hide-bound or attacked by insects. This sort of paint is also useful in removing the mildew, with which these kinds of trees are often affected; as well as, with the use of the dew-syringe, in promoting the equal breaking of the eyes of vines, trained on the rafters of pine stoves. Watering the peach tree borders with the urine of cattle, in the beginning of winter, and again in the early spring, has likewise been thought beneficial in destroying the insects which produce the above disease. Careful and proper cleaning and washing these trees, walls, and other places in contact with them, has, too, been found of great utility in preventing insects from accumulating on them. TRIFLE. To make an excellent trifle, lay macaroons and ratifia drops over the bottom of a dish, and pour in as much raisin wine as they will imbibe. Then pour on them a cold rich custard, made with plenty of eggs, and some rice flour. It must stand two or three inches thick: on that put a layer of raspberry jam, and cover the whole with a very high whip made the day before, of rich cream, the whites of two well-beaten eggs, sugar, lemon peel, and raisin wine, well beat with a whisk, kept only to whip syllabubs and creams. If made the day before it is used, the trifle has quite a different taste, and is solid and far better. TRIPE. After being well washed and cleaned, tripe should be stewed with milk and onion till quite tender. Serve it in a tureen, with melted butter for sauce. Or fry it in small pieces, dipped in batter. Or cut the thin part into bits, and stew them in gravy. Thicken the stew with butter and flour, and add a little ketchup. Tripe may also be fricasseed with white sauce. TROUGHS. Water troughs of various kinds, which require to be rendered impervious to the wet, may be lined with a strong cement of gypsum and quicklime, mixed up with water. Four fifths of pulverised coal or charcoal, and one fifth of quicklime, well mixed together, and infused in boiling pitch or tar, will also form a useful cement for this purpose. It requires to be of the consistence of thin mortar, and applied hot with a trowel. TROUT. Open them along the belly, wash them clean, dry them in a cloth, and season them with pepper and salt. Set the gridiron over the fire, and when it is hot rub the bars with a piece of fresh suet. Lay on the fish, and broil them gently over a very clear fire, at such a distance as not to burn them. When they are done on one side, turn them carefully on the other, and serve them up the moment they are ready. This is one of the best methods of dressing this delicate fish; but they are sometimes broiled whole, in order to preserve the juices of the fish, when they are fresh caught. Another way is, after they are washed clean and well dried in a napkin, to bind them about with packthread, and sprinkle them with melted butter and salt; then to broil them over a gentle fire, and keep them turning. Make a sauce of butter rolled in flour, with an anchovy, some pepper, nutmeg, and capers. Add a very little vinegar and water, and shake it together over a moderate fire, till it is of a proper thickness. Put the trout into a dish, and pour this sauce over them. Trout of a middle size are best for broiling. The gurnet or piper is very nice broiled in the same manner, and served with the same kind of sauce. Mullets also admit of the same treatment. Trout are very commonly stewed, as well as broiled; and in this case they should be put into a stewpan with equal quantities of Champaigne, Rhenish, or Sherry wine. Season the stew with pepper and salt, an onion, a few cloves, and a small bunch of parsley and thyme. Put into it a crust of French bread, and set it on a quick fire. When the fish is done, take out the bread, bruise it, and then thicken the sauce. Add a little flour and butter, and let it boil up. Lay the trout on a dish, and pour the thickened sauce over it. Serve it with sliced lemon, and fried bread. This is called Trout á la Genevoise. A plainer way is to dry the fish, after it has been washed and cleaned, and lay it on a board before the fire, dusted with flour. Then fry it of a fine colour with fresh dripping; serve it with crimp parsley and plain butter. TROUT PIE. Scale and wash the fish, lard them with pieces of silver eel, rolled up in spice and sweet herbs, with bay leaves finely powdered. Slice the bottoms of artichokes, lay them on or between the fish, with mushrooms, oysters, capers, and sliced lemon or Seville orange. Use a dish or raised crust, close the pie, and bake it gently.--Another way. Clean and scale your trouts, and cut off the heads and fins; boil an eel for forcemeat; when you have cut off the meat of the eel, put the bones and the heads of the trout into the water it was boiled in, with an onion, mace, whole pepper, a little salt, and a faggot of sweet herbs; let it boil down till there is but enough for the pie. Chop the meat of the eel very fine, add grated bread, an anchovy chopped small, sweet herbs, and a gill of oysters blanched and bearded, the yolks of two hard eggs chopped very fine, and as much melted butter as will make it into a stiff forcemeat; season the trout with mace, pepper and salt; fill the belly with the forcemeat, and make the remainder into balls; sheet your dish with a good paste, lay some butter on that, then the trout and forcemeat; strain off the fish broth, and scum it very clean, and add a little white wine, and a piece of butter rolled in flour; when it is all melted, pour it into the pie, and lid it over; bake it in a gentle oven, and let it be thoroughly done. TRUFFLES. The largest are the most esteemed; those which are brought from Perigord are the best. They are usually eaten dressed in wine, and broth seasoned with salt, pepper, a bunch of sweet herbs, some roots and onions. Before being dressed they must be soaked in warm water, and well rubbed with a brush, that no earth may adhere to them. When dressed, serve them in a plate as an entremet. The truffle is also very excellent in all sorts of ragouts, either chopped or out into slices, after they are peeled. It is one of the best seasonings that can be used in a kitchen. Truffles are also used dried, but their flavour is then much diminished. TRUFFLES RAGOUT. Peel the truffles, cut them in slices, wash and drain them well. Put them into a saucepan with a little gravy, and stew them gently over a slow fire. When they are almost done enough, thicken them with a little butter and flour. Stewed in a little water, and thickened with cream and yolk of egg, they make a nice white ragout. Truffles, mushrooms, and morels are all of them very indigestible. TUNBRIDGE CAKES. Rub six ounces of butter quite fine into a pound of flour; then mix six ounces of sugar, beat and strain two eggs, and make the whole into a paste. Roll it very thin, and cut it with the top of a glass. Prick the cakes with a fork, and cover them with carraways; or wash them with the white of an egg, and dust a little white sugar over. TURBOT. This excellent fish is in season the greatest part of the summer. When fresh and good, it is at once firm and tender, and abounds with rich gelatinous nutriment. Being drawn and washed clean, it may be lightly rubbed with salt, and put in a cold place, and it will keep two or three days. An hour or two before dressing it, let it soak in spring water with some salt in it. To prevent the fish from swelling and cracking on the breast, score the skin across the thickest part of the back. Put a large handful of salt into a fish kettle with cold water, lay the turbot on a fish strainer and put it in. When it is beginning to boil, skim it well; then set the kettle on the side of the fire to boil as gently as possible for about fifteen or twenty minutes; if it boil fast, the fish will break to pieces. Rub a little of the inside coral spawn of the lobster through a hair sieve, without butter; and when the turbot is dished, sprinkle the spawn over it. Garnish the dish with sprigs of curled parsley, sliced lemon, and finely scraped horseradish. Send up plenty of lobster sauce. The thickest part of the fish is generally preferred. The spine bone should be cut across to make it easier for carving. TURBOT PIE. Take a middling turbot, clean it very well, cut off the head, tail, and fins. Make a forcemeat thus; take a large eel, boil it tender, then take off the flesh; put the bones of the turbot and eel into the water the eel was boiled in, with a faggot of herbs, whole pepper, an onion, and an anchovy; let this boil till it becomes a strong broth. In the mean time, cut the eel very fine; add the same quantity of grated bread, a little lemon-peel, an anchovy, parsley, and the yolks of two or three hard eggs, and half a pint of oysters blanched and bearded; chop all these as fine as possible; mix all together with a quarter of a pound of melted butter; and with this forcemeat lay a rim in the inside of the dish; put in the turbot, and fill up the vacancies with forcemeat; strain off the broth, scum it very clean, and add a lump of butter rolled in flour, and a glass of white wine; pour this over the fish. Make a good puff paste, cover the pie with it, and let it be thoroughly baked. When it comes from the oven, warm the remainder of the liquor; pour it in, and send it to table. TURKEYS. When young they are very tender, and require great attention. As soon as hatched, put three peppercorns down their throat. They must be carefully watched, or they will soon perish. The hen turkey is so careless, that she will stalk about with one chicken, and leave the remainder, or even tread upon and kill them. Turkeys are violent eaters, and must therefore be left to take charge of themselves in general, except one good feed a day. The hen sets twenty-five or thirty days, and the young ones must be kept warm, as the least cold or damp kills them. They must be fed often, and at a distance from the hen, or she will pick every thing from them. They should have curds, green cheese parings cut small, and bread and milk with chopped wormwood in it. Their drink milk and water, but must not be left to turn sour. All young fowls are a prey for vermin, therefore they should be kept in a safe place where none can come. Weasels, stoats, and ferrets will creep in at a very small crevice. The hen should be under a coop, in a warm place exposed to the sun, for the first three or four weeks; and the young ones should not be suffered to wander about in the dew, at morning or evening. Twelve eggs are enough to put under a turkey; and when she is about to lay, lock her up till she has laid every morning. They usually begin to lay in March, and set in April. Feed them near the hen-house, and give them a little meat in the evening, to accustom them to roosting there. Fatten them with sodden oats or barley for the first fortnight; and the last fortnight give them as above, and rice swelled with warm milk over the fire twice a day. The flesh will be beautifully white and fine flavoured. The common way in Norfolk is to cram them, but they are so ravenous that it seems unnecessary, if they are not suffered to wander far from home, which keeps them lean and poor.--When fat turkeys are to be purchased in the market, in order to judge of their quality it is necessary to observe, that the cock bird when young has a smooth black leg, and a short spur. If fresh and sweet, the eyes are full and bright, and the feet moist and supple. If stale, the eyes will be sunk, and the feet stiff and dry. The hen turkey is known by the same rules; but if old, the legs will be red and rough. TURKEY PATTIES. Mince some of the white part, and season it with grated lemon, nutmeg, salt, a dust of white pepper, a spoonful of cream, and a very small piece of butter warmed. Fill the patties, and bake them. TURKEY PIE. Break the bones, and beat the turkey flat on the breast. Lard it with bacon, lay it into a raised crust with some slices of bacon under it, and well seasoned with salt, pepper, nutmeg, whole cloves, and bay leaves. Lay a slice of bacon over it, cover it with a crust, and bake it. When baked, put a clove of garlic or shalot into the whole in the middle of the crust, and let it stand till cold. The turkey may be boned if preferred. Duck or goose pie may be made in the same manner. TURKEY SAUCE. Open some oysters into a bason, and pour the liquor into a saucepan as soon as it is settled. Add a little white gravy, and a tea-spoonful of lemon pickle. Thicken it with flour and butter, boil it a few minutes, add a spoonful of cream, and then the oysters. Shake them over the fire, but do not let them boil. Or boil some slices or fine bread with a little salt, an onion, and a few peppercorns. Beat it well, put in a bit of butter, and a spoonful of cream. This sauce eats well with roast turkey or veal. TURKISH YOGURT. Let a small quantity of milk stand till it be sour, then put a sufficient quantity of it to new milk, to turn it to a soft curd. This may be eaten with sugar only, or both this and the fresh cheese are good eaten with strawberries and raspberries, as cream, or with sweetmeats of any kind. TURNIPS. To dress this valuable root, pare off all the outside coat, cut them in two, and boil them with beef, mutton, or lamb. When they become tender take them up, press away the liquor, and mash them with butter and salt, or send them to table whole, with melted butter in a boat. Young turnips look and eat well with a little of the top left on them. To preserve turnips for the winter, cut off the tops and tails, and leave the roots a few days to dry. They should then be stacked up with layers of straw between, so as to keep them from the rain and frost, and let the stack be pointed at the top. TURNIPS MASHED. Pare and boil them quite tender, squeeze them as dry as possible between two trenchers, put them into a stewpan, and mash them with a wooden spoon. Then rub them through a cullender, add a little bit of butter, keep stirring them till the butter is melted and well mixed with them, and they are ready for the table. TURNIP BUTTER. In the fall of the year, butter is apt to acquire a strong and disagreeable flavour, from the cattle feeding on turnips, cabbages, leaves of trees, and other vegetable substances. To correct the offensive taste which this produces, boil two ounces of saltpetre in a quart of water, and put two or more spoonfuls of it into a pail before milking, according to the quantity of milk. If this be done constantly, the evil will be effectually cured: if not, it will be owing to the neglect of the dairy maid. TURNIP FLY. To prevent the black fly from injuring the turnip crop, mix an ounce of sulphur daily with three pounds of turnip seed for three days successively, and keep it closely covered in an earthen pan. Stir it well each time, that the seed may be duly impregnated with the sulphur. Sow it as usual on an acre of ground, and the fly will not attack it till after the third or fourth leaf be formed, when the plant will be entirely out of danger. If garden vegetables be attacked by the fly, water them freely with a decoction of elder leaves. TURNIP PIE. Season some mutton chops with salt and pepper, reserving the ends of the neck bones to lay over the turnips, which must be cut into small dice, and put on the steaks. Add two or three spoonfuls of milk, also a sliced onion if approved, and cover with a crust. TURNIP SAUCE. Pare half a dozen turnips, boil them in a little water, keep them shaking till they are done, and the liquor quite exhausted, and then rub them through a tammis. Take a little white gravy and cut more turnips, as if intended for harrico. Shake them as before, and add a little more white gravy. TURNIP SOUP. Take from a knuckle of veal all the meat that can be made into cutlets, and stew the remainder in five pints of water, with an onion, a bundle of herbs, and a blade of mace. Cover it close, and let it do on a slow fire, four or five hours at least. Strain it, and set it by till the next day. Then take the fat and sediment from it, and simmer it with turnips cut into small dice till tender, seasoning it with salt and pepper. Before serving, rub down half a spoonful of flour with half a pint of good cream, and a piece of butter the size of a walnut. Let a small roll simmer in the soup till fully moistened, and serve this with it. The soup should be as thick as middling cream. TURNIP TOPS. These are the shoots which come out in the spring from the old turnip roots, and are to be dressed in the same way as cabbage sprouts. They make very nice sweet greens, and are esteemed great purifiers of the blood and juices. TURNPIKES. Mix together a quarter of a pound each of flour, butter, currants, and lump sugar powdered. Beat up four eggs with two of the whites, make the whole into a stiff paste, with the addition of a little lemon peel. Roll the paste out thin, and cut it into shapes with a wine glass. The addition of a few carraway seeds will be an improvement. TURTLE. The morning that you intend to dress the turtle, fill a boiler or kettle with a quantity of water sufficient to scald the callapach and callapee, the fins, &c. and about nine o'clock hang up your turtle by the hind fins, cut off its head, and save the blood; then with a sharp pointed knife separate the callapach from the callapee (or the back from the belly part) down to the shoulders, so as to come at the entrails, which take out, and clean them, as you would those of any other animal, and throw them into a tub of clean water, taking great care not to break the gall, but cut it off the liver, and throw it away. Then separate each distinctly, and take the guts into another vessel, open them with a small penknife, from end to end, wash them clean, and draw them through a woollen cloth in warm water, to clear away the slime, and then put them into clean cold water till they are used, with the other part of the entrails, which must all be cut up small to be mixed in the baking dishes with the meat. This done, separate the back and belly pieces entirely, cutting away the four fins by the upper joint, which scald, peel off the loose skin, and cut them into small pieces, laying them by themselves, either in another vessel, or on the table, ready to be seasoned. Then cut off the meat from the belly part, and clean the back from the lungs, kidneys, &c. and that meat cut into pieces as small as a walnut, laying it likewise by itself. After this you are to scald the back and belly pieces, pulling off the shell from the back and the yellow skin from the belly; when all will be white and clean, and with the kitchen cleaver cut those up likewise into pieces about the bigness or breadth of a card. Put those pieces into clean cold water, wash them out, and place them in a heap on the table, so that each part may lie by itself. The meat, being thus prepared and laid separately for seasoning, mix two third parts of salt, or rather more, and one third part of Cayenne pepper, black pepper, and a spoonful of nutmeg and mace pounded fine, and mixed together; the quantity to be proportioned to the size of the turtle, so that in each dish there may be about three spoonfuls of seasoning to every twelve pounds of meat. Your meat being thus seasoned, get some sweet herbs, such as thyme, savoury, &c. let them be dried and rubbed fine, and having provided some deep dishes to bake it in, (which should be of the common brown ware) put in the coarsest parts of the meat at the bottom, with about a quarter of a pound of butter in each dish, and then some of each of the several parcels of meat, so that the dishes may be all alike, and have equal portions of the different parts of the turtle; and between each laying of the meat, strew a little of this mixture of sweet herbs. Fill your dishes within an inch and an half, or two inches of the top; boil the blood of the turtle, and put into it; then lay on forcemeat balls made of veal, or fowl, highly seasoned with the same seasoning as the turtle; put into each dish a gill of good Madeira wine, and as much water as it will conveniently hold; then break over it five or six eggs, to keep the meat from scorching at the top, and over that shake a small handful of shred parsley, to make it look green; which done, put your dishes into an oven made hot enough to bake bread, and in an hour and half, or two hours, (according to the size of the dishes) it will be sufficiently done. Send it to the table in the dishes in which it is baked, in order to keep it warm while it is eating. TURTLE FINS. Put into a stewpan five large spoonfuls of brown sauce, with a bottle of port wine, and a quart of mushrooms. When the sauce boils, put in four fins; and after taking away all the small bones that are seen breaking through the skin, add a few sprigs of parsley, a bit of thyme, one bay leaf, and four cloves, and let it simmer one hour. Ten minutes before it is done, put in five dozen of button onions ready peeled, and see that it is properly salted. TURTLE SOUP. The best sized turtle is one from sixty to eighty pounds weight, which will make six or eight tureens of fine soup. Kill the turtle the evening before; tie a cord to the hind fins, and hang it up with the head downwards. Tie the fore fins by way of pinioning them, otherwise it would beat itself, and be troublesome to the executioner. Hold the head in the left hand, and with a sharp knife cut off the neck as near the head as possible. Lay the turtle on a block on the back shell, slip the knife between the breast and the edge of the back shell; and when the knife has been round, and the breast is detached from the back, pass the fingers underneath, and detach the breast from the fins, always keeping the edge of the knife on the side of the breast; otherwise if the gall be broken, the turtle will be spoiled. Cut the breast into four pieces, remove the entrails, beginning by the liver, and cut away the gall, to be out of danger at once. When the turtle is emptied, throw the heart, liver, kidneys, and lights, into a large tub of water. Cut away the fins to the root, as near to the back shell as possible; then cut the fins in the second joint, that the white meat may be separated from the green. Scrape the fat from the back shell by skimming it, and put it aside. Cut the back shell into four pieces. Set a large turbot pan on the fire, and when it boils dip a fin into it for a minute, then take it out and peel it very clean. When that is done, take another, and so on till all are done; then the head, next the shell and breast, piece by piece. Be careful to have the peel and shell entirely cleaned off, then put in the same pan some clean water, with the breast and back, the four fins, and the head. Let it boil till the bones will leave the meat, adding a large bundle of turtle herbs, four bay leaves, and some thyme. If two dishes are to be made of the fins, they must be removed when they have boiled one hour. Put into a small stewpan the liver, lights, heart, and kidneys, and the fat that was laid aside. Take some of the liquor that the other part was boiled in, cover the stewpan close, and let it boil gently for three hours. Clean the bones, breast, and back from the green fat, and cut it into pieces an inch long, and half an inch wide, but suffer none of it to be wasted. Put all these pieces on a dish, and set it by till the broth is ready. To prepare the broth, put on a large stockpot, and line the bottom of it with a pound and a half of lean ham, cut into slices. Cut into pieces a large leg of veal, except a pound of the fillet to be reserved for forcemeat; put the rest upon the ham, with all the white meat of the turtle, and a couple of old fowls. Put it on a smart fire, with two ladlefuls of rich broth, and reduce it to a glaze. When it begins to stick to the bottom, pour the liquor in which the turtle was boiled into the pot where the other part of the turtle has been boiled. Add to it a little more sweet herbs, twenty-four grains of allspice, six blades of mace, two large onions, four carrots, half an ounce of whole pepper, and some salt. Let it simmer for four hours, and then strain the broth through a cloth sieve. Put into it the green part of the turtle that has been cut in pieces and nicely cleaned, with two bottles of Madeira. When it has boiled a few minutes with the turtle, add the broth to it. Melt half a pound of butter in a stewpan, add four large spoonfuls of flour, stir it on the fire till of a fine brown colour, and pour some of the broth to it. Mix it well, and strain it through a hair sieve into the soup. Cut the liver, lights, heart, kidneys, and fat into small square pieces, and put them into the soup with half a tea-spoonful of cayenne, two of curry powder, and four table-spoonfuls of the essence of anchovies. Let it boil an hour and a half, carefully skimming off the fat. Pound the reserved veal in a marble mortar for the forcemeat, and rub it through a hair sieve, with as much of the udder as there is of meat from the leg of veal. Put some bread crumbs into a stewpan with milk enough to moisten it, adding a little chopped parsley and shalot. Dry it on the fire, rub it through a wire sieve, and when cold mix it all together, that every part may be equally blended. Boil six eggs hard, take the yolks and pound them with the other ingredients; season it with salt, cayenne, and a little curry powder. Add three raw eggs, mix all well together, and make the forcemeat into small balls the size of a pigeon's egg. Ten minutes before the soup is ready put in the forcemeat balls, and continue to skim the soup till it is taken off the fire. If the turtle weighs eighty pounds, it will require nearly three bottles of Madeira for the soup. When the turtle is dished, squeeze two lemons into each tureen. It is also very good with eggs boiled hard, and a dozen of the yolks put in each tureen. This is a highly fashionable soup, and such as is made in the royal kitchen; but it is difficult of digestion, and fit only for those who 'live to eat.' Foreigners in general are extremely fond of it; and at the Spanish dinner in 1808, eight hundred guests attended, and two thousand five hundred pounds weight of turtle were consumed. TUSK. Lay the tusk in water the first thing in the morning; after it has lain three or four hours, scale and clean it very well; then shift the water, and let it lie till you want to dress it. If it is large, cut it down the back, and then across; if small, only down the back; put it into cold water, and let it boil gently for about twenty minutes. Send it to table in a napkin, with egg sauce, butter and mustard, and parsnips cut in slices, in a plate. TWOPENNY. The malt beverage thus denominated, is not formed to keep, and therefore not likely to be brewed by any persons for their own consumption. The following proportions for one barrel, are inserted merely to add to general information in the art of brewing. £ _s._ _d._ Malt, a bushel and a half 0 9 0 Hops, one pound 0 1 6 Liquorice root, a pound and a half 0 1 6 Capsicum, a quarter of an ounce 0 0 1 Spanish liquorice, 2 ounces 0 0 2 Treacle, five pounds 0 1 8 ---------- 0 13 11 ---------- £ _s._ _d._ One barrel of twopenny, paid for at the publican's, 128 quarts, at _4d._ per quart 2 2 8 Brewed at home, coals included 0 15 0 ---------- Clear gain, 1 7 8 ---------- It is sufficient to observe respecting this liquor, that it requires no storing, being frequently brewed one week, and consumed the next. The quantity of capsicum in one barrel of twopenny, is as much as is commonly contained in two barrels of porter: this readily accounts for the preference given to it by the working classes, in cold winter mornings. Twopenny works remarkably quick, and must be carefully attended to, in the barrels. V. VACCINE INOCULATION. One of the most important discoveries in the history of animal nature is that of the Cow Pox, which was publicly announced by Dr. Jenner in the year 1798, though it had for ages been known by some of the dairymen in the west of England. This malady appears on the nipples of cows in the form of irregular pustules, and it is now ascertained that persons inoculated with the matter taken from them are thereby rendered incapable of the small pox infection. Innumerable experiments have been made in different countries, in Asia and America, with nearly the same success; and by a series of facts duly authenticated, in many thousands of instances, it is fully proved that the vaccine inoculation is a milder and safer disease than the inoculated small pox; and while the one has saved its tens of thousands, the other is going on to save its millions. With a view of extending the beneficial effects of the new inoculation to the poor, a new dispensary, called the Vaccine Institution, has been established in London, where the operation is performed gratis, and the vaccine matter may be had by those who wish to promote this superior method of inoculation. The practice itself is very simple. Nothing more is necessary than making a small puncture in the skin of the arm, and applying the matter. But as it is of great consequence that the matter be good, and not too old, it is recommended to apply for the assistance of those who make it a part of their business, as the expense is very trifling. VARNISH FOR BOOTS. To render boots and shoes impervious to the wet, take a pint of linseed oil, half a pound of mutton suet, six or eight ounces of bees' wax, and a small piece of rosin. Boil all together in a pipkin, and let it cool to milk warm. Then with a hair brush lay it on new boots or shoes; but it is better still to lay it on the leather before the articles are made. The shoes or boots should also be brushed over with it, after they come from the maker. If old boots or shoes are to be varnished, the mixture is to be laid on when the leather is perfectly dry. VARNISH FOR BRASS. Put into a pint of alcohol, an ounce of turmeric powder, two drams of arnatto, and two drams of saffron. Agitate the mixture during seven days, and filter it into a clean bottle. Now add three ounces of clean seed-lac, and agitate the bottle every day for fourteen days. When the lacquer is used, the pieces of brass if large are to be first warmed, so as to heat the hand, and the varnish is to be applied with a brush. Smaller pieces may be dipped in the varnish, and then drained by holding them for a minute over the bottle. This varnish, when applied to rails for desks, has a most beautiful appearance, like that of burnished gold. VARNISH FOR DRAWINGS. Mix together two ounces of spirits of turpentine, and one ounce of Canada balsam. The print is first to be sized with a solution of isinglass water, and dried; the varnish is then to be applied with a camel-hair brush. But for oil paintings, a different composition is prepared. A small piece of white sugar candy is dissolved and mixed with a spoonful of brandy; the whites of eggs are then beaten to a froth, and the clear part is poured off and incorporated with the mixture. The paintings are then brushed over with the varnish, which is easily washed off when they are required to be cleaned again, and on this account it will be far superior to any other kind of varnish for this purpose. VARNISH FOR FANS. To make a varnish for fans and cases, dissolve two ounces of gum-mastic, eight ounces of gum-sandaric, in a quart of alcohol, and then add four ounces of Venice turpentine. VARNISH FOR FIGURES. Fuse in a crucible half an ounce of tin, with the same quantity of bismuth. When melted, add half an ounce of mercury; and when perfectly combined, take the mixture from the fire and cool it. This substance, mixed with the white of an egg, forms a very beautiful varnish for plaster figures. VARNISH FOR FURNITURE. This is made of white wax melted in the oil of petrolium. A light coat of this mixture is laid on the wood with a badger's brush, while a little warm, and the oil will speedily evaporate. A coat of wax will be left behind, which should afterwards be polished with a woollen cloth. VARNISH FOR HATS. The shell of the hat having been prepared, dyed, and formed in the usual manner, is to be stiffened, when perfectly dry, with the following composition, worked upon the inner surface. One pound of gum kino, eight ounces of gum elemi, three pounds of gum olibanum, three pounds of gum copal, two pounds of gum juniper, one pound of gum ladanum, one pound of gum mastic, ten pounds of shell lac, and eight ounces of frankincense. These are pounded small and mixed together; three gallons of alcohol are then placed in an earthen vessel to receive the pounded gums, and the vessel is then to be frequently agitated. When the gums are sufficiently dissolved by this process, a pint of liquid ammonia is added to the mixture, with an ounce of oil of lavender, and a pound of gum myrrh and gum opoponax, dissolved in three pints of spirit of wine. The whole of the ingredients being perfectly incorporated and free from lumps, constitute the patent water-proof mixture with which the shell of the hat is stiffened. When the shell has been dyed, shaped, and rendered perfectly dry, its inner surface and the under side of the brim are varnished with this composition by means of a brush. The hat is then placed in a warm drying-room until it becomes hard. This process is repeated several times, taking care that the varnish does not penetrate through the shell, so as to appear on the outside. To allow the perspiration of the head to evaporate, small holes are to be pierced through the crown of the hat from the inside outward; and the nap of silk, beaver, or other fur, is to be laid on by the finisher in the usual way. That on the under side of the brim, which has been prepared as above, is to be attached with copal varnish. VARNISH FOR PAINTINGS. Mix six ounces of pure mastic gum with the same quantity of pounded glass, and introduce the compound into a bottle containing a pint of oil of turpentine. Now add half an ounce of camphor bruised in a mortar. When the mastic is dissolved, put in an ounce of Venice turpentine, and agitate the whole till the turpentine is perfectly dissolved. When the varnish is to be applied to oil paintings, it must be gently poured from the glass sediment, or filtered through a muslin. VARNISH FOR PALING. A varnish for any kind of coarse wood work is made of tar ground up with Spanish brown, to the consistence of common paint, and then spread on the wood with a large brush as soon as made, to prevent its growing too stiff and hard. The colour may be changed by mixing a little white lead, whiting, or ivory black, with the Spanish brown. For pales and weather boards this varnish is superior to paint, and much cheaper than what is commonly used for that purpose. It is an excellent preventive against wet and weather, and if laid on smooth wood it will have a good gloss. VARNISH FOR SILKS. To one quart of cold-drawn linseed oil, add half an ounce of litharge. Boil them for half an hour, and then add half an ounce of copal varnish. While the ingredients are heating in a copper vessel, put in one ounce of rosin, and a few drops of neatsfoot oil, stirring the whole together with a knife. When cool, it is ready for use. This varnish will set, or keep its place on the silk in four hours, the silk may then be turned and varnished on the other side. VARNISH FOR STRAW HATS. For straw or chip hats, put half an ounce of black sealing-wax powdered into two ounces of spirits of wine or turpentine, and place it near the fire till the wax is dissolved. If the hat has lost its colour or turned brown, it may first be brushed over with writing ink, and well dried. The varnish is then to be laid on warm with a soft brush, in the sun or before the fire, and it will give it a new gloss which will resist the wet. VARNISH FOR TINWARE. Put three ounces of seed-lac, two drams of dragon's blood, and one ounce of turmeric powder, into a pint of well-rectified spirits. Let the whole remain for fourteen days, but during that time, agitate the bottle once a day at least. When properly combined, strain the liquid through a piece of muslin. This varnish is called lacquer; it is brushed over tinware to give it a resemblance to brass. VARNISH FOR WOOD. The composition which is the best adapted to preserve wood from the decay occasioned both by the wet and the dry rot, is as follows. Melt twelve ounces of rosin in an iron kettle, and when melted, add eight ounces of roll brimstone. When both are in a liquid state, pour in three gallons of train oil. Heat the whole slowly, gradually adding four ounces of bees' wax in small pieces, and keep the mixture stirring. As soon as the solid ingredients are dissolved, add as much Spanish brown, red or yellow ochre, ground fine with some of the oil, as will give the whole a deep shade. Lay on this varnish as hot and thin as possible; and some days after the first coat becomes dry, give a second. This will preserve planks and other wood for ages. VEAL. In purchasing this article, the following things should be observed. The flesh of a bull calf is the firmest, but not so white. The fillet of the cow calf is generally preferred for the udder. The whitest meat is not the most juicy, having been made so by frequent bleeding, and giving the calf some whiting to lick. Choose that meat which has the kidney well covered with fat, thick and white. If the bloody vein in the shoulder look blue, or of a bright red, it is newly killed; but any other colour shows it stale. The other parts should be dry and white: if clammy or spotted, the meat is stale and bad. The kidney turns first in the loin, and the suet will not then be firm. This should carefully be attended to, if the joint is to be kept a little time. The first part that turns bad in a leg of veal, is where the udder is skewered back: of course the skewer should be taken out, and both that and the part under it wiped every day. It will then keep good three or four days in hot weather. Take care also to cut out the pipe that runs along the chine of a loin of veal, the same as in beef, to hinder it from tainting. The skirt of the breast of veal is likewise to be taken off, and the inside of the breast wiped and scraped, and sprinkled with a little salt. VEAL BLANQUETS. Cut thin slices off a fillet of veal roasted. Put some butter into a stewpan, with an onion chopped small; fry them till they begin to brown, then dust in some flour, and add some gravy, and a faggot of sweet herbs, seasoned with pepper, salt, and mace; let this simmer till you have the flavour of the herbs, then put in your veal; beat up the yolks of two eggs in a little cream, and grated nutmeg, some chopped parsley, and a little lemon peel shred fine. Keep it stirring one way till it is smooth, and of a good thickness: squeeze in a little juice of orange, and dish it up. Garnish with orange and barberries. VEAL BROTH. To make a very nourishing veal broth, take off the knuckle of a leg or shoulder of veal, with very little meat to it, and put it into a stewpot, with three quarts of water. Add an old fowl, four shank-bones of mutton extremely well soaked and bruised, three blades of mace, ten peppercorns, an onion, and a large slice of bread. Cover it close, boil it up once, and skim it carefully. Simmer it four hours as slowly as possible, strain and take off the fat, and flavour it with a little salt.--Another way. Take a scrag of veal, of about three pounds; put it into a clean saucepan, with a tea-spoonful of salt; when it boils, scum it clean; put in a spoonful of ground rice, some mace, a faggot of herbs, and let it boil gently for near two hours, or till you have about two quarts: send it to table with your veal in the middle, toasted bread, and parsley and butter in a boat. VEAL A LA CREME. Take the best end of a loin of veal, joint it, and cut a little of the suet from the kidney. Make it lie flat, then cut a place in the middle of the upper part about three inches deep and six inches long, take the piece out and chop it, add a little beef suet or beef marrow, parsley, thyme, green truffles, mushrooms, shalots, lemon peel chopped fine, and season it with pepper, salt, and a little beaten allspice. Put all together into a marble mortar, add the yolks of two eggs, and a little French bread soaked in cream. Pound the ingredients well, fill the cavity with the forcemeat, and cover it with a piece of veal caul. Then tie it down close, cover the whole with a large piece of caul, and roast it gently. When to be served up, take off the large caul, let it colour a little, glaze it lightly, and put under it a white sauce. A fillet of veal may be done in the same way, instead of using plain stuffing for it. VEAL CAKE. Boil six or eight eggs hard; cut the yolks in two, and lay some of the pieces in the bottom of the pot. Shake in a little chopped parsley, some slices of veal and ham, and then eggs again; shaking in after each, some chopped parsley, with pepper and salt, till the pot is full. Then put in water enough to cover it, and lay on it about an ounce of butter: tie it over with a double paper, and bake it about an hour. Then press it close together with a spoon, and let it stand till cold. The cake may be put into a small mould, and then it will turn out beautifully for a supper or side dish. VEAL COLLOPS. Cut long thin collops, beat them well, and lay on them a bit of thin bacon of the same size. Spread forcemeat over, seasoned high, and also a little garlic and cayenne. Roll them up tight, about the size of two fingers, but not more than two or three inches long. Fasten each firmly with a small skewer, smear them over with egg, fry them of a fine brown, and pour a rich brown gravy over.--To dress collops quickly in another way, cut them as thin as paper, and in small bits, with a very sharp knife. Throw the skin and any odd bits of veal into a little water, with a dust of pepper and salt. Set them on the fire while the collops are preparing and beating, and dip them into a seasoning of herbs, bread, pepper, salt, and a scrape of nutmeg, having first wetted them with egg. Then put a bit of butter into a fryingpan, and give the collops a very quick fry; for as they are so thin, two minutes will do them on both sides. Put them into a hot dish before the fire, strain and thicken the gravy, give it a boil in the fryingpan, and pour it over the collops. The addition of a little ketchup will be an improvement.--Another way is to fry the collops in butter, seasoned only with salt and pepper. Then simmer them in gravy, either white or brown, with bits of bacon served with them. If white, add lemon peel and mace, and a little cream. VEAL CUTLETS. Cut the veal into thin slices, dip them in the yolks of egg, strew them over with grated bread and nutmeg, sweet herbs and parsley, and lemon peel minced fine, and fry them with butter. When the meat is done, lay it on a dish before the fire. Put a little water into the pan, stir it round and let it boil; add a little butter rolled in flour, and a little lemon juice, and pour it over the cutlets. Or fry them without the bread and herbs, boil a little flour and water in the pan with a sprig of thyme, and pour it on the cutlets, but take out the thyme before the dish is sent to table. VEAL GRAVY. Make it as for cullis; but leave out the spices, herbs, and flour. It should be drawn very slowly; and if for white dishes, the meat should not be browned. VEAL LARDED. Take off the under bone of a neck of veal, and leave only a part of the long bones on. Trim it neatly, lard and roast it gently with a veal caul over it. Ten minutes before it is done, take off the caul, and let the veal be of a very light colour. When it is to be served up, put under it some sorrel sauce, celery heads, or asparagus tops, or serve it with mushroom sauce. VEAL OLIVES. Cut some long thin collops, beat them, lay them on thin slices of fat bacon, and over these a layer of forcemeat highly seasoned, with some shred shalot and cayenne. Roll them tight, about the size of two fingers, but not more than two or three inches long. Fasten them round with a small skewer, rub egg over them, and fry them of a light brown. Serve with brown gravy, in which boil some mushrooms pickled or fresh, and garnish with fried balls. VEAL OLIVE PIE. Having prepared the veal olives, lay them round and round the dish, making them highest in the middle. Fill it nearly up with water, and cover it with paste. When baked, mix some gravy, cream, and flour, and pour it hot into the pie. VEAL PATTIES. Mince some veal that is not quite done, with a little parsley, lemon peel, a dust of salt and nutmeg. Add a spoonful of cream, gravy sufficient to moisten the meat, and a little scraped ham. This mixture is not to be warmed till the patties are baked. VEAL PIE. Take some of the middle or scrag of a small neck, and season it, adding or not a few slices of lean bacon or ham. If wanted of a high relish, add mace, cayenne, and nutmeg, to the salt and pepper; also forcemeat, and eggs. To these likewise may be added, truffles, morels, mushrooms, sweetbreads cut into small bits, and cocks' combs blanched, if approved. It will be very good without any of the latter additions, but a rich gravy must be prepared, and poured in after baking.--To make a rich veal pie, cut steaks from a neck or breast of veal, season them with pepper, salt, nutmeg, and a very little clove in powder. Slice two sweetbreads, and season them in the same manner. Lay a puff paste on the ledge of the dish, put in the meat, yolks of hard eggs, the sweetbreads, and some oysters, up to the top of the dish. Lay over the whole some very thin slices of ham, and fill up the dish with water. Cover it with a crust, and when taken out of the oven, pour in at the top, through a funnel, a few spoonfuls of good veal gravy, and fill it up with cream; but first boil and thicken it with a tea-spoonful of flour. VEAL AND PARSLEY PIE. Cut some slices from a leg or neck of veal; if the leg, from about the knuckle. Season them with salt, scald some pickled parsley, and squeeze it dry. Cut the parsley a little, and lay it at the bottom of the dish; then put in the meat, and so on, in layers. Fill up the dish with new milk, but not so high as to touch the crust. When baked, pour out a little of the milk, and put in half a pint of good scalded cream. Chicken may be cut up, skinned, and dressed in the same way. VEAL PORCUPINE. Bone a fine large breast of veal, and rub it over with the yolks of two eggs. Spread it out, and lay on it a few slices of bacon, cut as thin as possible. Add a handful of parsley shred fine, the yolks of five eggs, boiled hard and chopped, and a little lemon peel finely shred. Steep the crumb of a penny loaf in cream, and add to it, seasoning the whole together with salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Roll the veal close, and skewer it up. Cut some fat bacon, the lean of boiled ham, and pickled cucumbers, about two inches long. Place these in rows upon the veal, first the ham, then the bacon, and last the cucumbers, till the whole is larded. Put the meat into a deep earthen pan with a pint of water, cover it close, and set it in a slow oven for two hours. Skim off the fat afterwards, and strain the gravy through a sieve into a stewpan. Add a glass of white wine, a little lemon pickle and caper liquor, and a spoonful of mushroom ketchup, and thicken the gravy with a bit of butter rolled in flour. Lay the porcupine on a dish, and pour the sauce over it. Have ready prepared a thin forcemeat, made of the crumb of a penny loaf, half a pound of beef suet shred fine, the yolks of four eggs, and a few oysters chopped. Mix these together, season the forcemeat with cayenne, salt, pepper, and nutmeg, and spread it on the veal caul. Having rolled the whole up tight, like collared eel, bind it in a cloth, and boil it an hour. When done enough, cut it into four slices, laying one at each end, and the others on the sides of the dish. Have the sweetbreads ready prepared, cut in slices and fried, and lay them round the dish, with a few mushrooms pickled. This is allowed to make a fine bottom dish, when game is not to be had. VEAL ROLLS. Cut thin slices of either fresh or cold veal, spread on them a fine seasoning of a very few crumbs, a little chopped bacon or scraped ham, and a little suet, parsley, and shalot. Or instead of the parsley and shalot, some fresh mushrooms stewed and minced. Then add pepper and salt, and a small piece of pounded mace. This stuffing may either fill up the roll like a sausage, or be rolled with the meat. In either case tie it up very tight, and stew very slowly in good gravy, and a glass of sherry. Skim it very carefully, and serve it up quite tender.--Another way. Take slices of veal, enough to make a side dish; lay them on your dresser, and lay forcemeat upon each slice; roll them up, and tie them round with coarse thread. Rub them over with the yolk of an egg, spit them on a bird spit, and roast them of a fine brown. For sauce, have good gravy, with morels, truffles, and mushrooms, tossed up to a proper thickness. Lay your rolls in your dish, and pour your sauce over. Garnish with lemon. VEAL SAUSAGES. Chop equal quantities of lean veal and fat bacon, a handful of sage, a little salt and pepper, and a few anchovies. Beat all in a mortar; and when used, roll and fry it. Serve it with fried sippets, or on stewed vegetables, or on white collops. VEAL SCALLOPS. Mince some cold veal very small, and set it over the fire with a scrape of nutmeg, a little pepper and salt, and a little cream. Heat it for a few minutes, then put it into the scallop shells, and fill them with crumbs of bread. Lay on some pieces of butter, and brown the scallops before the fire. Either veal or chicken looks and eats well, prepared in this way, and lightly covered with crumbs of fried bread; or these may be laid on in little heaps. VEAL-SUET PUDDING. Cut the crumb of a threepenny loaf into slices, boil and sweeten two quarts of new milk, and pour over it. When soaked, pour out a little of the milk; mix it with six eggs well beaten, and half a nutmeg. Lay the slices of bread into a dish, with layers of currants and veal suet shred, a pound of each. Butter the dish well, and bake it; or if preferred, boil the pudding in a bason. VEAL SWEETBREAD. Parboil a fine fresh sweetbread for five minutes, and throw it into a basin of water. When the sweetbread is cold, dry it thoroughly in a cloth, and roast it plain. Or beat up the yolk of an egg, and prepare some fine bread crumbs. Run a lark spit or a skewer through it, and tie it on the ordinary spit. Egg it over with a paste brush, powder it well with bread crumbs, and roast it. Serve it up with fried bread crumbs round it, and melted butter, with a little mushroom ketchup and lemon juice. Or serve the sweetbread on toasted bread, garnished with egg sauce or gravy. Instead of spitting the sweetbread, it may be done in a Dutch oven, or fried. VEGETABLES. There is nothing in which the difference between an elegant and an ordinary table is more visible, than in the dressing of vegetables, especially greens. They may be equally as fine at first, at one place as at another, but their look and taste afterwards are very different, owing entirely to the careless manner in which they have been prepared. Their appearance at table however is not all that should be considered; for though it is certainly desirable that they should be pleasing to the eye, it is of still greater consequence that their best qualities should be carefully preserved. Vegetables are generally a wholesome diet, but become very prejudicial if not properly dressed. Cauliflowers, and others of the same species, are often boiled only crisp, to preserve their beauty. For the look alone, they had better not be boiled at all, and almost as well for the purpose of food, as in such a crude state they are scarcely digestible by the strongest stomach. On the other hand, when overboiled they become vapid, and in a state similar to decay, in which they afford no sweet purifying juices to the stomach, but load it with a mass of mere feculent matter. The same may be said of many other vegetables, their utility being too often sacrificed to appearance, and sent to table in a state not fit to be eaten. A contrary error often prevails respecting potatoes, as if they could never be done too much. Hence they are popped into the saucepan or steamer, just when it happens to suit, and are left doing, not for the time they require, but till it is convenient to take them up; when perhaps their nutricious qualities are all boiled away, and they taste of nothing but water. Ideas of nicety and beauty in this case ought all to be subservient to utility; for what is beauty in vegetables growing in the garden is not so at table, from the change of circumstances. They are brought to be eaten, and if not adapted properly to the occasion, they are deformities on the dish instead of ornaments. The true criterion of beauty is their suitableness to the purposes intended. Let them be carefully adapted to this, by being neither under nor over done, and they will not fail to please both a correct eye and taste, while they constitute a wholesome species of diet. A most pernicious method of dressing vegetables is often adopted, by putting copper into the saucepan with them in the form of halfpence. This is a dangerous experiment, as the green colour imparted by the copperas, renders them in the highest degree unwholesome, and even poisonous. Besides, it is perfectly unnecessary, for if put into boiling water with a little salt, and boiled up directly, they will be as beautifully green as the most fastidious person can require. A little pearlash might safely be used on such an occasion, and with equal effect, its alkaline properties tending to correct the acidity. Many vegetables are more wholesome, and more agreeable to the taste, when stewed a good while, only care must be taken that they stew merely, without being suffered to boil. Boiling produces a sudden effect, stewing a slower effect, and both have their appropriate advantages. But if preparations which ought only to stew, are permitted to boil, the process is destroyed, and a premature effect produced, that cannot be corrected by any future stewing. In order to have vegetables in the best state for the table, they should be gathered in their proper season, when they are in the greatest perfection, and that is when they are most plentiful. Forced vegetables seldom attain their true flavour, as is evident from very early asparagus, which is altogether inferior to that which is matured by nature and common culture, or the mere operation of the sun and climate. Peas and Potatoes are seldom worth eating before midsummer; unripe vegetables being as insipid and unwholesome as unripe fruit, and are liable to the same objections as when they are destroyed by bad cooking. Vegetables are too commonly treated with a sort of cold distrust, as if they were natural enemies. They are seldom admitted freely at our tables, and are often tolerated only upon a sideboard in small quantities, as if of very inferior consideration. The effect of this is like that of all indiscriminate reserve, that we may negatively be said to lose friends, because we have not the confidence to make them. From the same distrust or prejudice, there are many vegetables never used at all, which are nevertheless both wholesome and palatable, particularly amongst those best known under the denomination of herbs. The freer use of vegetable diet would be attended with a double advantage, that of improving our health, and lessening the expense of the table. Attention should however be paid to their size and quality, in order to enjoy them in their highest degree of perfection. The middle size are generally to be preferred to the largest or the smallest; they are more tender, and full of flavour, just before they are quite full grown. Freshness is their chief value and excellence, and the eye easily discovers whether they have been kept too long, as in that case they lose all their verdure and beauty. Roots, greens, salads, and the various productions of the garden, when first gathered, are plump and firm, and have a fragrant freshness which no art can restore, when they have lost it by long keeping, though it will impart a little freshness to put them into cold spring water for some time before they are dressed. They should neither be so young as not to have acquired their good qualities, nor so old as to be on the point of losing them. To boil them in soft water will best preserve the colour of such as are green; or if only hard water be at hand, a tea-spoonful of potash should be added. Great care should be taken to pick and cleanse them thoroughly from dust, dirt, and insects, and nicely to trim off the outside leaves. If allowed to soak awhile in water a little salted, it will materially assist in cleansing them from insects. All the utensils employed in dressing vegetables should be extremely clean and nice; and if any copper vessel is ever used for the purpose, the greatest attention must be paid to its being well tinned. The scum which arises from vegetables as they boil should be carefully removed, as cleanliness is essential both to their looking and eating well. The lid of the saucepan should always be taken off when they boil, to give access to the air, even if it is not otherwise thought necessary. Put in the vegetables when the water boils, with a little salt, and let them boil quickly; when they sink to the bottom, they are generally done enough. Take them up immediately, or they will lose their colour and goodness. Drain the water from them thoroughly, before they are sent to table. When greens are quite fresh gathered, they will not require so much boiling by at least a third of the time, as when they have been gathered a day or two and brought to the public market. The following table shows when the various kinds of vegetables are in season, or the time of their earliest natural growth, and when they are most plentiful, or in their highest perfection. Artichokes, July, September, ---- Jerusalem ditto, Sept. November, Angelica stalks, May, June, Asparagus, April, June, Beet roots, Dec. January, Boricole, November, January Cabbage, May, July, ---- Red ditto, July, August, ---- White ditto, October, Cardoons, Nov. December, Carrots, May, August, Cauliflowers, June, August, Celery, Sept. November, Chervil, March, May, Corn Salad, May, June, Cucumbers, July, September, Endive, June, October, Kidney Beans, July, August, Leeks, Sept. December, Lettuce, April, July, Onions, August, November, Parsley, February, March, Parsnips, July, October, Peas, June, August, Potatoes, June, November, Radishes, March, June, ---- Spanish ditto, August, September, Scarlet Beans, July, August, Small Salad, May, June, Salsify, July, August, Scorzonera, July, August, Sea Kale, April, May, Shalots, August, October, Savory Cabbage, Sept. November, Sorrel, June, July, Spinage, March, July, ---- Winter ditto, Oct. November, Turnips, May, July, Turnip tops, April, May, Windsor Beans, June, August. VEGETABLES AND FISH. Pick, wash, and chop some sorrel, spinage, small onions or chives, and parsley. Put them into a stewpan with fresh butter, a good spoonful of lemon or Seville orange juice, or vinegar and water, some essence of anchovy, and cayenne pepper. Do these gently over the fire till the vegetables are tender, then put in the fish, and stew them till well done. VEGETABLE ESSENCES. The flavour of the various sweet and savoury herbs may be obtained, by combining their essential oils with rectified spirit of wine, in the proportion of one dram of the former to two ounces of the latter; by picking the leaves, and laying them in a warm place to dry, and then filling a wide-mouth bottle with them, and pouring on them wine, brandy, or vinegar, and letting them steep for fourteen days. VEGETABLE MARROW. Take off all the skin of six or eight gourds, put them into a stewpan with water, salt, lemon juice, and a bit of butter, or fat bacon. Let them stew gently till quite tender, and serve them up with rich Dutch sauce, or any other sauce highly flavoured. VEGETABLE PIE. Scald and blanch some broad beans, and cut in some young carrots, turnips, artichoke bottoms, mushrooms, peas, onions, parsley, celery, or any of these. Make the whole into a nice stew, with some good veal gravy. Bake a crust over a dish, with a little lining round the edge, and a cup turned up to keep it from sinking. When baked, open the lid, and pour in the stew. VEGETABLE SOUP. Pare and slice five or six cucumbers, add the inside of as many cos-lettuces, a sprig or two of mint, two or three onions, some pepper and salt, a pint and a half of young peas, and a little parsley. Put these into a saucepan with half a pound of fresh butter, to stew in their own liquor half an hour, near a gentle fire. Pour on the vegetables two quarts of boiling water, and stew them two hours. Rub a little flour in a tea-cupful of water, boil it with the rest nearly twenty minutes, and serve it.--Another way. Peel and slice six large onions, six potatoes, six carrots, and four turnips; fry them in half a pound of butter, and pour on them four quarts of boiling water. Toast a crust of bread quite brown and hard, but do not burn it; add it to the above, with some celery, sweet herbs, white pepper, and salt. Stew it all together gently four hours, and strain it through a coarse cloth. Put in a sliced carrot, some celery, and a small turnip, and stew them in the soup. An anchovy, and a spoonful of ketchup, may be added if approved. VEGETABLE SYRUP. To a pint of white wine vinegar, put two pounds of the best brown sugar. Boil them to a syrup; and when quite cold, add two table-spoonfuls of paregoric elixir, which is made in the following manner. Steep in a pint of brandy a dram of purified opium, a dram of flowers of benjamin, and two scruples of camphor, adding a dram of the oil of anniseed. Let it stand ten days, occasionally shaking it up, and then strain it off. This added to the above composition, forms the celebrated Godbold's Vegetable Syrup. The paregoric elixir taken by itself, a tea-spoonful in half a pint of white wine whey or gruel at bed time, is an agreeable and effectual medicine for coughs and colds. It is also excellent for children who have the hooping cough, in doses of from five to twenty drops in a little water, or on a small piece of sugar. The vegetable syrup is chiefly intended for consumptive cases. VELVETS. When the pile of velvet requires to be raised, it is only necessary to warm a smoothing iron, to cover it with a wet cloth, and hold it under the velvet. The vapour arising from the wet cloth will raise the pile of the velvet, with the assistance of a whisk gently passed over it. To remove spots and stains in velvet, bruise some of the plant called soapwort, strain out the juice, and add to it a small quantity of black soap. Wash the stain with this liquor, and repeat it several times after it has been allowed to dry. To take wax out of velvet, rub it frequently with hot toasted bread. VENISON. If it be young and good, the fat of the venison will be clear, bright, and thick, and the cleft part smooth and close: but if the cleft is wide and tough, it is old. To judge of its sweetness, run a very sharp narrow knife into the shoulder or haunch, and the meat will be known by the scent. Few people like it when it is very high. VENISON PASTY. To prepare venison for pasty, take out all the bones, beat and season the meat, and lay it into a stone jar in large pieces. Pour over it some plain drawn beef gravy, not very strong; lay the bones on the top, and set the jar in a water bath, or saucepan of water over the fire, and let it simmer three or four hours. The next day, when quite cold, remove the cake of fat, and lay the meat in handsome pieces on the dish. If not sufficiently seasoned, add more pepper, salt, or pimento. Put in some of the gravy, and keep the remainder for the time of serving. When the venison is thus prepared, it will not require so much time to bake, or such a very thick crust as usual, and by which the under part is seldom done through. A shoulder of venison makes a good pasty, and if there be a deficiency of fat, it must be supplied from a good loin of mutton, steeped twenty-four hours in equal parts of rape, vinegar, and port. The shoulder being sinewy, it will be of advantage to rub it well with sugar for two or three days; and when to be used, clear it perfectly from the sugar and the wine with a dry cloth. A mistake used to prevail, that venison could not be baked too much; but three or four hours in a slow oven will be sufficient to make it tender, and the flavour will be preserved. Whether it be a shoulder or a side of venison, the meat must be cut in pieces, and laid with fat between, that it may be proportioned to each person, without breaking up the pasty to find it. Lay some pepper and salt at the bottom of the dish, and some butter; then the meat nicely packed, that it may be sufficiently done, but not lie hollow to harden at the edges. In order to provide gravy for the pasty, boil the venison bones with some fine old mutton, and put half a pint of the gravy cold into the dish. Then lay butter on the venison and cover as well as line the sides with a thick crust, but none must be put under the meat. Keep the remainder of the gravy till the pasty comes from the oven; pour it quite hot into the middle by means of a funnel, and mix it well in the dish by shaking. It should be seasoned with pepper and salt.--Another way. Take a side of venison, bone it, and season it with pepper and salt, cloves, and mace finely beaten; cut your venison in large pieces, and season it very well with your spices then lay it into an earthen pan; make a good gravy of two pound of beef, and pour this gravy over the venison; take three quarters of a pound of beef suet, well picked from the skins, wet a coarse cloth, lay your suet on it, and cover it over, and beat it with a rolling-pin, till it is as fine as butter; as your cloth dries, wet it, and shift your suet, and put it over the top of the venison; make a paste of flour and water, and cover the pan, and send it to the oven to bake; it is best baked with a batch of bread; when it comes from the oven, and is quite cold, make a puff-paste; lay a paste all over your dish, and a roll round the inside, then put in your venison with the fat, and all the gravy, if the dish will hold it; put on the lid, and ornament it as your fancy leads. It will take two hours and a half in a quick oven. A sheet of paper laid on the top, will prevent it from catching, and the crust will be of a fine colour. By baking your venison in this manner, it will keep four or five days before you use it, if you do not take off the crust. VENISON SAUCE. Boil an ounce of dried currants in half a pint of water, and some crumbs of bread, a few cloves or grated nutmeg, a glass of port wine, and a piece of butter. Sweeten it to your taste, and send it to table in a boat. VERJUICE. Lay some ripe crabs together in a heap to sweat, then take out the stalks and decayed ones, and mash up the rest. Press the juice through a hair cloth into a clean vessel, and it will be fit to use in a month. It is proper for sauces where lemon is wanted. VERMICELLI PUDDING. Boil a pint of milk with lemon peel and cinnamon, and sweeten it with loaf sugar. Strain it through a sieve, add a quarter of a pound of vermicelli, and boil it ten minutes. Then put in the yolks of five and the whites of three eggs, mix them well together, and steam the pudding an hour and a quarter, or bake it half an hour. VERMICELLI SOUP. Boil two ounces of vermicelli in three quarts of veal gravy, then rub it through a tammis, season it with salt, give it a boil, and skim it well. Beat up the yolks of four eggs, mix with them half a pint of cream, stir them gradually into the soup, simmer it for a few minutes, and serve it up. A little of the vermicelli may be reserved to serve in the soup, if approved.--Another way. Take two quarts of strong veal broth, put into a clean saucepan a piece of bacon stuck with cloves, and half an ounce of butter worked up in flour; then take a small fowl trussed to boil, break the breastbone, and put it into your soup; stove it close, and let it stew three quarters of an hour; take about two ounces of vermicelli, and put to it some of the broth; set it over the fire till it is quite tender. When your soup is ready, take out the fowl, and put it into your dish; take out your bacon, skim your soup as clean as possible; then pour it on the fowl, and lay your vermicelli all over it; cut some French bread thin, put it into your soup, and send it to table. If you chuse it, you may make your soup with a knuckle of veal, and send a handsome piece of it in the middle of your dish, instead of the fowl. VICARAGE CAKE. Mix a pound and a half of fine flour, half a pound of moist sugar, a little grated nutmeg and ginger, two eggs well beaten, a table-spoonful of yeast, and the same of brandy. Make it into a light paste, with a quarter of a pound of butter melted in half a pint of milk. Let it stand half an hour before the fire to rise, then add three quarters of a pound of currants, well washed and cleaned, and bake the cake in a brisk oven. Butter the tin before the cake is put into it. VINEGAR. Allow a pound of lump sugar to a gallon of water. While it is boiling, skim it carefully, and pour it into a tub to cool. When it is no more than milk warm, rub some yeast upon a piece of bread and put into it, and let it ferment about twenty-four hours. Then tun the liquor into a cask with iron hoops, lay a piece of tile over the bung-hole, and set it in the kitchen, which is better than placing it in the sun. It will be fit to bottle in about six months. March is the best time of the year for making vinegar, though if kept in the kitchen, this is of less consequence. A cheap sort of vinegar may be made of the refuse of the bee hives, after the honey is extracted. Put the broken combs into a vessel, and add two parts of water: expose it to the sun, or keep it in a warm place. Fermentation will succeed in a few days, when it must be well stirred and pressed down to make it soak; and when the fermentation is over, the matter is to be laid upon sieves to drain. The yellow liquor which forms at the bottom of the vessel must be removed, the vessel well cleaned, and the liquor which has been strained is to be returned to the vessel. It will immediately begin to turn sour; it should therefore be covered with a cloth, and kept moderately warm. A pellicle will be formed on the surface, beneath which the vinegar acquires strength: it must be kept standing for a month or two, and then put into a cask. The bunghole should be left open, and the vinegar will soon be fit for use. The prunings of the vine, being bruised and put into a vat or mash tub, and boiling water poured on them, will produce a liquor of a fine vinous quality, which may be used as vinegar.--Another method. To every pound of coarse sugar add a gallon of water; boil the mixture, and take off the scum as long as any rises. Then pour it into proper vessels, and when sufficiently cooled put into it a warm toast covered with yeast. Let it work about twenty-four hours, and then put it into an iron-bound cask, fixed either near a constant fire, or where the summer sun shines the greater part of the day. In this situation it should not be closely stopped up, but a tile or something similar should be laid on the bunghole, to keep out the dust and insects. At the end of three months or less it will be clear, and fit for use, and may be bottled off. The longer it is kept after it is bottled, the better it will be. If the vessel containing the liquor is to be exposed to the sun's heat, the best time to begin making it is in the month of April. VINEGAR FOR SALADS. Take three ounces each of tarragon, savory, chives, and shalots, and a handful of the tops of mint and balm, all dry and pounded. Put the mixture into a wide-mouthed bottle, with a gallon of the best vinegar. Cork it down close, set it in the sun, and in a fortnight strain off and squeeze the herbs. Let it stand a day to settle, and filter it through a tammis bag. VINEGAR WHEY. Set upon the fire as much milk as is wanted for the occasion, and when it is ready to boil, put in vinegar sufficient to turn it to a clear whey. Let it stand some minutes, and then pour it off. If too acid, a little warm water may be added. This whey is well adapted to promote perspiration. Lemon or Seville orange juice may be used instead of vinegar. VINGARET. Chop some mint, parsley, and shalot; and mix them up with oil and vinegar. Serve the sauce in a boat, for cold fowl or meat. VIPERS. The bites of such reptiles should constantly be guarded against as much as possible, as they are not unfrequently attended with dangerous consequences. Animals of the neat-cattle kind are more liable to be bitten and stung by these reptiles, than those of any other sort of live stock. Instances have been known where the tongues of such cattle have been even bitten or stung while grazing or feeding, which have proved fatal. Such stock are, however, seldom attacked by reptiles of the adder kind, except in cases where these are disturbed by the animals in pasturing or feeding; which is the main reason why so many of them are bitten and stung about the head, and occasionally the feet. There are mostly much pain, inflammation, and swelling produced by these bites and stings; the progress of which may commonly be checked or stopped, and the complaint removed, by the use of such means as are directed below. A sort of soft liquid of the liniment kind may be prepared by mixing strong spirit of hartshorn, saponaceous liniment, spirit of turpentine, and tincture of opium, with olive oil; the former in the proportion of about two ounces each to three of the last, incorporating them well together by shaking them in a phial, which will be found very useful in many cases. A proper quantity of it should be well rubbed upon the affected part, two or three times in the course of the day, until the inflammation and swelling begin to disappear, after the bottle has been well shaken. In the more dangerous cases, it may often be advantageous to use fomentations to the affected parts, especially when about the head, with the above application; such as those made by boiling white poppy-heads with the roots of the marshmallow, the leaves of the large plantain, and the tops of wormwood, in the quantities of a few ounces of the first, and a handful of each of the latter, when cut small, and bruised in five or six quarts of the stale grounds of malt liquor. They may be applied frequently to the diseased parts, rubbing them afterwards each time well with the above soft liquid liniment. Where there are feverish appearances, as is often the case in the summer season, a proper quantity of blood may sometimes be taken away with great benefit, and a strong purge be afterwards given of the cooling kind with much use. In slight cases of this kind, some think the continued free use of spirit of hartshorn, given internally, and applied externally to the affected parts, is the best remedy of any that is yet known. As they are so dangerous, these reptiles should always be destroyed as much as possible in all pastures and grazing grounds. U. UDDER SWEET PIE. Either parboil or roast a tongue and udder, slice them into tolerably thin slices, and season them with pepper and salt. Stone half a pound of sun raisins, raise a crust, or put a puff crust round the edge of a dish, place a layer of tongue and udder at the bottom, and then some raisins, and so on till the dish is full. Cover the top with a crust, and when the pie is baked, pour in the following sauce. Beat up some yolks of eggs, with vinegar, white wine, sugar, and butter. Shake them over the fire till ready to boil, and add it to the pie immediately before it is sent to table. ULCERS. Ulcers should not be healed precipitately, for it may be attended with considerable danger. The first object is to cleanse the wound with emollient poultices, and soften it with yellow basilicon ointment, to which may be added a little turpentine or red precipitate. They may also be washed with lime water, dressed with lint dipped in tincture of myrrh, with spermaceti, or any other cooling ointment. UMBRELLA VARNISH. Make for umbrellas the following varnish, which will render them proof against wind and rain. Boil together two pounds of turpentine, one pound of litharge in powder, and two or three pints of linseed oil. The umbrella is then to be brushed over with the varnish, and dried in the sun. UNIVERSAL CEMENT. To an ounce of gum mastic add as much highly rectified spirits of wine as will dissolve it. Soak an ounce of isinglass in water until quite soft, then dissolve it in pure rum or brandy, until it forms a strong glue, to which add about a quarter of an ounce of gum ammoniac well rubbed and mixed. Put the two mixtures in an earthen vessel over a gentle heat; when well united, the mixture may be put into a phial, and kept well stopped. When wanted for use, the bottle must be set in warm water, and the china or glass articles having been also warmed, the cement must be applied. It will be proper that the broken surfaces, when carefully fitted, should be kept in close contact for twelve hours at least, until the cement is fully set, after which the fracture will be found as secure as any other part of the vessel, and scarcely perceptible. W. WAFERS. Dry some flour well, mix with it a little pounded sugar, and finely pounded mace. Make these ingredients into a thick batter with cream. Butter the wafer irons, and make them hot; put a tea-spoonful of the batter into them, bake them carefully, and roll them off the iron with a stick. WAINSCOTS. Dirty painted wainscots may be cleaned with a sponge wetted in potato water, and dipped in a little fine sand. For this purpose grate some raw potatoes into water, run the pulp through a sieve, and let it stand to settle; the clear liquor will then be fit for use. If applied in a pure state, without the sand, it will be serviceable in cleaning oil paintings, and similar articles of furniture. When an oak wainscot becomes greasy, and has not been painted, it should be washed with warm beer. Then boil two quarts of ale, and put into it a piece of bees' wax the size of a walnut, with a large spoonful of sugar. Wet the wainscot all over with a brush dipped in the mixture, and when dry, rub it bright: this will give it a fine gloss. WALNUT KETCHUP. To make the finest sort of walnut ketchup, boil or simmer a gallon of the expressed juice of walnuts when they are tender, and skim it well. Then put in two pounds of anchovies, bones and liquor; two pounds of shalot, one ounce of mace, one ounce of cloves, one of whole pepper, and one of garlic. Let all simmer together till the shalots sink; then put the liquor into a pan till cold; bottle it up, and make an equal distribution of the spice. Cork it well, and tie a bladder over. It will keep twenty years, but is not good at first. Be careful to express the juice at home, for what is sold as walnut ketchup is generally adulterated. Some people make liquor of the outside shell when the nut is ripe, but neither the colour nor the flavour is then so fine.--Another way. Take four quarts of walnut juice, two quarts of white wine vinegar, three ounces of ginger sliced, two ounces of black pepper bruised, two ounces of white pepper bruised, half a pound of anchovies; let these simmer gently, till half the quantity is evaporated; then add to it a quart of red wine, two heads of garlic, the yellow rind of eight Seville oranges, or half a pound of dried orange peel cut very small, and forty bay leaves: give it one boil together, then cover it close in an earthen vessel, and let it stand till it is cold. When it is cold put it into wide-mouthed quart bottles; and into each of the bottles put one ounce of shalots skinned and sliced: cork the bottles close, and put them by for two months, when it will be fit for use. The shalots will likewise eat very fine when taken out, though they will look of a bad colour.--Another way, for fish sauce. Take walnuts, when they are fit for pickling, bruise them well in a marble mortar, and strain off the liquor from them through a cloth, let it stand to settle, pour off the clear, and to every pint of it add one pound of anchovies, half a quarter of an ounce of mace, half a quarter of an ounce of cloves, half a quarter of an ounce of Jamaica pepper, bruised fine; boil them together till the anchovies are dissolved; then strain it off, and to the strained liquor add half a pint of the best vinegar, and eight shalots; just boil it up again, pour it into a stone pan or china bowl, and let it stand till cold, when it is fit to put up in bottles for use. It will keep for years, and is excellent with fish sauce. WARTS AND CORNS. Warts may safely be destroyed by tying them closely round the bottom with a silk thread, or a strong flaxen thread well waxed. Or they may be dried away by some moderately corroding application, such as the milky juice of fig leaves, of swallow wort, or of spurge. Warts may also be destroyed by rubbing them with the inside of bean shells. But these corrosives can only be procured in summer; and persons who have very delicate thin skins should not use them, as they may occasion a painful swelling. Instead therefore of these applications, it may be proper to use a little vinegar impregnated with as much salt as it will dissolve. A plaster may also be made of sal ammoniac and some galbanum, which well kneaded together and applied, seldom fails of destroying them. The general and principal cause of corns is, shoes too hard and stiff, or else too small. The cure consists in softening the corns by repeated washing, and soaking the feet in warm or hot water; then cutting the corn very carefully when softened, with a sharp penknife without wounding the quick, and afterwards applying a leaf of houseleek, ground ivy, or purslain, dipped in vinegar. Or instead of these leaves, they may be dressed every day with a plaster of simple diachylon, or of gum ammoniacum softened in vinegar. The bark of the willow tree burnt to ashes, and mixed with strong vinegar, forms a lixivium which by repeated applications eradicates, warts, corns, and other cutaneous excrescences. It is however the wisest way to obviate the cause which produces them. WASH. An infusion of horseradish in milk, makes one of the safest and best washes for the skin; or the fresh juice of houseleek, mixed with an equal quantity of new milk or cream. Honey water made rather thick, so as to form a kind of varnish on the skin, is a useful application in frosty weather, when the skin is liable to be chipped; and if it occasions any irritation or uneasiness, a little fine flour or pure hair powder should be dusted on the hands or face. A more elegant wash may be made of four ounces of potash, four ounces of rose water, and two of lemon juice, mixed in two quarts of water. A spoonful or two of this mixture put into the basin, will scent and soften the water intended to be used. WASH BALLS. Shave thin two pounds of new white soap, into about a teacupful of rose water, and pour on as much boiling water as will soften it. Put into a brass pan a pint of sweet oil, four pennyworth of oil of almonds, half a pound of spermaceti, and dissolve the whole over the fire. Then add the soap, and half an ounce of camphor that has first been reduced to powder by rubbing it in a mortar with a few drops of spirits of wine, or lavender water, or any other scent. Boil it ten minutes, then pour it into a basin, and stir till it is quite thick enough to roll up into hard balls, which must then be done as soon as possible. If essence is used, stir it in quick after it is taken off the fire, that the scent may not fly off. WASHING. Soda, by softening the water, saves a great deal of soap. It should be melted in a large jug of water, and some of it poured into the tubs and boiler; and when the lather becomes weak, more is to be added. The new improvement in soft soap is, if properly used, a saving of nearly half in quantity; and though something dearer than the hard, it reduces the expence of washing considerably. Many good laundresses advise soaping linen in warm water the night previous to washing, as facilitating the operation with less friction. WASPS. These insects are not only destructive to grapes, peaches, and the more delicate kinds of fruit, but also to bees; the hives of which they attack and plunder, frequently compelling those industrious inmates to forsake their habitation. About the time when the wasps begin to appear, several phials should be filled three parts full of a mixture consisting of the lees of beer or wine, and the sweepings of sugar, or the dregs of molasses, and suspended by yellow packthread on nails in the garden wall. When the bottles are filled with insects, the liquor must be poured into another vial, and the wasps crushed on the ground. If they settle on wall fruit, they may be destroyed by touching them with a feather dipped in oil; or may be taken with birdlime put on the end of a stick or lath, and touched while sitting on the fruit. The number of these noxious insects might be greatly reduced by searching for their nests in the spring of the year. The places to find them are at new posts, pales, melon frames, or any solid timber; for as they make their combs of the shavings of sound wood, which they rasp off with their fangs, and moisten up with a mucus from their bodies, they may often be found near such materials. WATER. As it is difficult in some places to obtain a sufficient quantity of fresh spring water for constant use, especially in large towns and cities, it is important to know that river water or such as becomes turbid, may be rendered fit for use by the following easy experiment. Dissolve half an ounce of alum in a pint of warm water, and stir it about in a puncheon of water taken from the river; the impurities will soon settle to the bottom, and in a day or two it will become as clear as the finest spring water. To purify any kind of water that has become foul by being stagnant, place a piece of wicker work in the middle of a vessel; spread on this a layer of charcoal four or five inches thick, and above the charcoal a quantity of sand. The surface of the sand is to be covered with paper pierced full of holes, to prevent the water from making channels in the sand. The water to be purified is to be poured on, to filter through the sand and charcoal, and the filter is to be removed occasionally. By this simple process, any person may procure good limpid water at a very trifling expense, and preserve what would otherwise become useless and offensive. WATER FOR BREWING. The most proper water for brewing is soft river water, which has had the rays of the sun, and the influence of the air upon it, which have a tendency to permit it easily to penetrate the malt, and extract its virtues. On the contrary, hard waters astringe and bind the power of the malt, so that its virtues are not freely communicated to the liquor. Some people hold it as a maxim, that all water that will mix with soap is fit for brewing, which is the case with the generality of river water; and it has frequently been found from experience, that when an equal quantity of malt has been used to a barrel of river water, as to a barrel of spring water, the brewing from the former has exceeded the other in strength above five degrees in the course of twelve months keeping. It has also been observed, that the malt was not only the same in quantity for one barrel as for the other, but was the same in quality, having all been measured from the same heap. The hops were also the same, both in quality and in quantity, and the time of boiling equal in each. They were worked in the same manner, and tunned and kept in the same cellar; a proof that the water only could be the cause of the difference. Dorchester beer, which is generally in much esteem, is chiefly brewed with chalky water, which is plentiful in almost every part of that county; and as the soil is mostly chalk, the cellars, being dug in that dry soil, contribute much to the good keeping of their drink, it being of a close texture, and of a dry quality, so as to dissipate damps; for it has been found by experience, that damp cellars are equally injurious to the casks and the good keeping of the liquor. Where water is naturally of a hard quality, it may in some measure be softened by an exposure to the sun and air, and by infusing in it some pieces of soft chalk; or when the water is set on to boil, in order to be poured on the malt, put into it a quantity of bran, and it will have a very good effect. WATER CAKES. Dry three pounds of fine flour, and rub into it a pound of sifted sugar, a pound of butter, and an ounce of carraway seeds. Make it into a paste with three quarters of a pint of boiling new milk; roll the paste very thin, and cut it into any form or size. Punch the cakes full of holes, and bake on tin plates in a cool oven. WATER GRUEL. Mix by degrees a large spoonful of oatmeal with a pint of water in a saucepan, and when smooth, boil it. Or rub the oatmeal smooth in a little water, and put it into a pint of water boiling on the fire. Stir it well, and boil it quick, but do not suffer it to boil over. In a quarter of an hour strain it off, add salt and a bit of butter when eaten, and stir it together till the whole is incorporated. To make it however in the quickest manner, mix a spoonful of ground oatmeal very smooth, with as much hot water as will just liquify it. Then gradually pour upon it a pint of boiling water, stirring it all the time to keep it smooth. It may be cooled by pouring it from one basin to another till it is fit to drink. Water gruel made in this way is very smooth and good, and being prepared in a few minutes, it is particularly useful when wanted in haste, to assist the operation of medicine. WATER PIPES. To prevent their freezing when full of water, preserve a little circulation by leaving the cock dripping; or by tying up the ball cock during the winter's frost, the water may be preserved for use. Care should be taken however to lay the pipe which supplies the cistern in such a position as not to retain the water, and of course it will not be liable to freeze. WATER SOUCHY. Stew two or three flounders, some parsley leaves and roots, thirty peppercorns, and a quart of water, till the fish are boiled to pieces, and then pulp them through a sieve. Set over the fire the pulped fish, the liquor that boiled them, some perch, tench, and flounders, and some fresh leaves or roots of parsley. Simmer them together till done enough, and serve in a deep dish. Slices of bread and butter are to be sent to table, to eat with the souchy. WAX. Bees' wax is obtained from the combs, after the sweet and liquid parts are extracted, by heating and pressing them between iron plates. The best sort is firm and hard, of a clear yellow colour and an agreeable odour, similar to that of honey. New wax is tough, yet easily broken; by long keeping it becomes harder and more brittle, loses its colour, and partly also its fragrance. With a view to bleach the wax, it is cut into small pieces, melted, and poured into cold water. In this state it is exposed to the sun, afterwards melted again, poured into water, and exposed to the air, two or three times over, till it is perfectly blanched. It is then dissolved for the last time, cast into flat moulds, and again exposed to the air for a day or two, in order to render it more transparent. WAX PLASTER. This is made of a pound of yellow wax, half a pound of white rosin, and three quarters of mutton suet, melted together. This forms a proper plaster for blisters, and in other cases where a gentle digestive is necessary. WEAK EYES. Dimness of sight, arising from weakness or inflammation, is best relieved by frequent washing of the eyes with cold water. If this do not succeed, the following solution may be applied. Dissolve four grains each of the sugar of lead and crude sal-ammoniac, in eight ounces of water, to which a few drops of laudanum may occasionally be added, and bathe the eyes with it night and morning. A tea-spoonful of brandy in a cup of water will also make good eye-water, or a little simple rose water may supply the place. WEDDING CAKE. Take two pounds of butter, beat it to a cream with the hand, and put in two pounds of fine sugar sifted. Mix well together two pounds of fine dried flour, half a pound of almonds blanched and pounded with orange-flower water, and an ounce of beaten mace. Beat up sixteen eggs, leaving out three whites, and put to them half a glass of sack, and the same of brandy. Put a handful of the flour and almonds to the sugar and butter, then a spoonful of the eggs, and so on till they are all mixed together. Beat it an hour with the hand, add two pounds of currants, half a pound of citron, half a pound of orange peel, and two spoonfuls of orange-flower water. Butter the tin, and bake it three hours and a half. An iceing should be put over the cake after it is baked. WEEDS. Weeds are in their most succulent state in the month of June, and there is scarcely a hedge border but might be rendered useful by mowing them at this season, but which afterwards would become a nuisance. After the weeds have lain a few hours to wither, hungry cattle will eat them with great freedom, and it would display the appearance of good management to embrace the transient opportunity. WELCH ALE. To brew very fine Welch ale, pour forty-two gallons of hot but not boiling water, on eight bushels of malt; cover it up, and let it stand three hours. Mean while infuse four pounds of hops in a little hot water, and put the water and hops into a tub; run the wort upon them, and boil them together three hours. Strain off the hops, and reserve them for the small beer. Let the wort stand in a high tub till cool enough to receive the yeast, of which put in two quarts of the best quality: mix it thoroughly and often. When the wort has done working, the second or third day, the yeast will sink rather than rise in the middle: remove it then, and tun the ale as it works out. Pour in a quart at a time gently, to prevent the fermentation from continuing too long, which weakens the liquor. Put paper over the bung-hole two or three days before it is closed up. WELCH BEEF. Rub three ounces of saltpetre into a good piece of the round or buttock. After four hours apply a handful of common salt, a quarter of an ounce of Jamaica pepper, and the same of black pepper, mixed together. Continue it in the pickle a fortnight, then stuff it with herbs, cover it with a thick paste, and bake it. Take off the paste, pour the liquor from it, and pour over it some melted beef suet. WELCH PUDDING. Melt half a pound of fine butter gently, beat with it the yolks of eight and the whites of four eggs. Mix in six ounces of loaf sugar, and the rind of a lemon grated. Put a paste into a dish for turning out, pour in the batter, and bake it nicely. WELCH RABBIT. Toast a slice of bread on both sides, and butter it. Toast a slice of Gloucester cheese on one side, and lay that on the bread; then toast the other side with a salamander, rub mustard over, and serve it up hot under a cover. WENS. These are prevalent chiefly among the inhabitants of marshy countries, bordering on rivers and standing waters, especially among females, and persons of a delicate habit; but they very often arise from scrophula. Camphor mixed with sweet oil, or a solution of sal ammoniac, have often been applied to these tumours with success. In Derbyshire, where this disorder greatly prevails, they use the following preparation. Fifteen grains of burnt sponge are beaten up with a similar quantity of millipede, and from eight to ten grains of cinnabar antimony. The whole is to be mixed with honey, and taken every morning before breakfast. WESTPHALIA HAM. Rub the ham with half a pound of coarse sugar, let it lie twelve hours, then rub it with an ounce of saltpetre pounded, and a pound of common salt. Let it lie three weeks, turning it every day. Dry it over a wood fire, and put a pint of oak sawdust into the water when it is boiled.--Another way. Take spring water that is not hard, add saltpetre and bay salt to it till it will bear an egg, the broad way, then add a pound and a half of coarse sugar; mix all together, and let the ham lay in this pickle a fortnight or three weeks; then lay it in the chimney to dry. When you boil it, put some hay into the copper with it. You may keep the pickle as long as you please by often boiling it up. WET CLOTHES. When a person has the misfortune to get wet, care should be taken not to get too near the fire, or into a warm room, so as to occasion a sudden heat. The safest way is to keep in constant motion, until some dry clothes can be procured, and to exchange them as soon as possible. WHEAT BREAD. To make it in the most economical way, the coarsest of the bran only is to be taken from the flour, and the second coat, or what is called pollard, is to be left in the meal. Five pounds of the bran are to be boiled in somewhat more than four gallons of water, in order that, when perfectly smooth, three gallons and three quarts of clear bran water may be poured into and kneaded up with forty-six pounds of the meal; adding salt as well as yeast, in the same way as for other bread. When the dough is ready to bake, the loaves are to be made up, and baked two hours and a half in a tolerably hot oven. As flour when thus made up will imbibe three quarts more of this bran liquor than of common water, it evidently produces not only a more nutricious and substantial food, but increases one fifth above the usual quantity; consequently it makes a saving of at least one day's consumption in every week. If this meal bread were in general use, it would be a saving to the nation of nearly ten millions a year. Besides, this bread has the following peculiar property: if put into the oven and baked for twenty minutes, after it is ten days old, it will appear again like new bread. WHEAT EARS. To roast wheat ears and ortolans, they should be spitted sideways, with a vine leaf between each. Baste them with butter, and strew them with bread crumbs while roasting. Ten or twelve minutes will do them. Serve them up with fried bread crumbs in the dish, and gravy in a tureen. WHEY. Cheese whey is a very wholesome drink for weakly persons, especially when the cows are in fresh pasture. Tending to quench thirst, and to promote sleep, it is well adapted to feverish constitutions. It is the most relaxing and diluting of all drinks, dissolving and carrying off the salts, and is a powerful remedy in the hot scurvy. WHEY BUTTER. The whey is first set in mugs, to acquire a sufficient degree of consistence and sourness for churning, either by the warmth of the season, or by a fire, as in the making of milk butter. Sometimes the green and white whey are boiled together, and turned by a little sour ale. When the green whey is boiled alone, it is necessary to keep it over the fire about half an hour, till it begins to break and separate, but it must be allowed to simmer only. The process is much the same as in milk butter, but it will keep only a few days, and does not cut so firm as the butter which is made of cream. WHIGS. Mix with two pounds of fine flour, half a pound of sugar pounded and sifted, and an ounce of carraway seeds. Melt half a pound of butter in a pint of milk; when as warm as new milk, put to it three eggs, leaving out one white, and a spoonful of yeast. Mix them well together, and let the paste stand four hours to rise. Make them into whigs, and bake them on buttered tins.--Another way. Rub half a pound of butter into a pound and a half of flour, add a quarter of a pound of sugar, a very little salt, and three spoonfuls of new yeast. Make it into a light paste with warm milk, let it stand an hour to rise, and then form it into whigs. Bake them upon sheets of tin in a quick oven. Carraway seeds may be added if preferred.--Another way. Take two pounds and a half of flour, dry it before the fire, and when cold rub in a quarter of a pound of fresh butter, and six ounces of sugar; mix half a pint of yeast that is not bitter, with warm milk, put this to the flour with some carraway seeds; mix all together to a light dough, set it before the fire to rise, then make it into what shape you please; bake them in a slack oven. You may add allspice beat fine, instead of carraways, if you please.--Another way. Take a pound and a half of flour, add a quarter of a pint of ale yeast to half a pint of warm milk, mix these together, and let it lie by the fire half an hour; then work in half a pound of sugar and half a pound of fresh butter to a paste; make them up, and let them be put into a quick oven. WHIPT CREAM. Take a quart of thick cream, the whites of eight eggs well beaten, with half a pint of sack; mix all together, and sweeten it to your taste, with double-refined sugar; (you may perfume it if you please, with a little musk, or ambergris, tied in a piece of muslin, and steeped a little while in the cream) pare a lemon, and tie some of the peel in the middle of the whisk, then whip up the cream, take off the froth with a spoon, and lay it in the glasses, or basons. This does well over a fine tart. WHIPT SYLLABUBS. Put some rich cream into an earthen pot, add some white wine, lemon juice, and sugar to the taste. Mill them well together with a chocolate mill, and as the froth keeps rising take it off with a spoon, and put it into syllabub glasses. They should be made the day before they are to be used. Syllabubs are very pretty in the summer time made with red currant juice, instead of lemon juice.--Another way. Take a quart of cream, boil it, and let it stand till cold; then take a pint of white wine, pare a lemon thin, and steep the peel in the wine two hours before you use it; to this add the juice of a lemon, and as much sugar as will make it very sweet; put all together into a bowl, and whisk it one way till it is pretty thick, fill the glasses, and keep it a day before you use it. It will keep good for three or four days. Let the cream be full measure, and the wine rather less; if you like it perfumed, put in a grain or two of ambergris.--Another way. To a quart of thick cream put half a pint of sack, the juice of two Seville oranges, or lemons, grate the peel of two lemons, and add half a pound of double-refined sugar well pounded; mix a little sack with sugar, and put it into some of the glasses, and red wine and sugar into others, the rest fill with syllabub only. Then whisk your cream up very well, take off the froth with a spoon, and fill the glasses carefully, as full as they will hold. Observe, that this sort must not be made long before they are used. WHITE BREAD. This is made the same as household bread, except that it consists of fine flour unmixed. The water to be used should be lukewarm in summer, and in very cold weather it must be hot, but not so as to scald the yeast. Bricks are made by moulding the loaves long instead of round, and cutting the sides in several places before they are put into the oven. WHITE CAKES. Dry half a pound of flour, rub into it a very little pounded sugar, one ounce of butter, an egg, a few carraways, and as much milk and water as will make it into a paste. Roll it thin, cut it into little cakes with a wine glass, or the top of a canister, and bake them fifteen minutes on tin plates. WHITE CAUDLE. Boil four spoonfuls of oatmeal in two quarts of water, with a blade or two of mace, and a piece of lemon peel; stir it often, and let it boil a full quarter of an hour, then strain it through a sieve for use; when you use it, grate in some nutmeg, sweeten it to your palate, and add what white wine you think proper: if it is not for a sick person, you may squeeze in a little lemon juice. WHITE CERATE. Take four ounces of olive oil, half an ounce of spermaceti, and four ounces of white wax. Put them into an earthen pipkin, and stir the mixture with a stick till it is quite cold. WHITE GRAVY. Boil in a quart of water a pound and a half of veal, from the knuckle or scrag end of the neck. Add a small onion, a bunch of sweet herbs, a blade of mace, a little whole pepper and salt. After an hour's simmering over the fire, strain off the gravy, and it is ready for use. WHITE GRAVY FOR SOUPS. To a few slices of lean ham, add a knuckle of veal cut in pieces, some turnips, parsnips, leeks, onions, and celery. Put them all into a stewpan with two quarts of water, and let it simmer till the meat is nearly tender, without allowing it to colour. Add to this half as much clear beef gravy, and boil it an hour, skimming off the fat very clean. Strain it, and set it by for use. WHITE HERRINGS. If good, their gills are of a fine red, and the eyes bright; as is likewise the whole fish, which must be stiff and firm. Having scaled, drawn, and cleaned them, dust them with flour, and fry them of a light brown. Plain or melted butter for sauce. WHITE LEAD. White oxide of lead is often adulterated by the carbonate of lime. To detect this pour four drams of pure acetous acid, over a dram of the suspected oxide. This will dissolve both oxide and chalk; but if a few drops of a solution of oxalic acid be now poured in, a very abundant white precipitate of oxalate of lime will take place. WHITE PAINT. An excellent substitute for white oil paint may be made of fresh curds bruised fine, and kneaded with an equal quantity of slacked lime. The mixture is to be well stirred, without any water, and it will produce an excellent white paint for inside work. As it dries very quickly, it should be used as soon as made; and if two coats be laid on, it may afterwards be polished with a woollen cloth till it becomes as bright as varnish. If applied to places exposed to moisture, the painting should be rubbed over with the yolk of an egg, which will render it as durable as the best of oil painting. No kind of painting can be so cheap; and as it dries speedily, two coats of it may be laid on in a day and polished, and no offensive smell will arise from it. WHITE POT. The antient way of making a white pot is to put the yolks of four or five eggs well beaten to a pint of cream, adding some pulps of apples, sugar, spices, and sippets of white bread. It may be baked either in a dish, or in a crust.--Another way. Beat eight eggs, leaving out four whites, with a little rose water; strain them to two quarts of new milk, and a small nutmeg grated, and sugar to your taste; cut a French roll in thin slices, and lay in the bottom of a soup dish (after buttering it) then pour over your milk and eggs, and bake it in a slow oven. WHITE PUDDINGS. Pour two pints and a half of scalding hot milk upon half a pound of Naples biscuits, or bread; let it stand uncovered, and when well soaked, bruise the bread very fine. Add half a pound of almonds well beaten with orange-flower water, three quarters of a pound of sugar, a pound of beef suet or marrow shred fine, a quarter of an ounce of salt, ten yolks of eggs and five whites. Mix the whole thoroughly together, and put it into the skins well prepared, filling them but half full, and tying them at proper distances like sausages. The skins must be carefully cleaned, and laid in rose water some hours before they are used. Currants may be used instead of almonds, if preferred. WHITE HOG'S PUDDINGS. When the skins have been well soaked and cleaned, rinse and soak them all night in rose water, and put into them the following preparation. Mix half a pound of blanched almonds cut into seven or eight parts, with a pound of grated bread, two pounds of marrow or rich suet, a pound of currants, some beaten cinnamon, cloves, mace, and nutmeg; a quart of cream, the yolks of six and whites of two eggs, a little orange-flower water, a little fine Lisbon sugar, and some lemon peel and citron sliced, and half fill the skins. To know whether it be sweet enough, warm a little in a panikin. Much care must be taken in boiling, to prevent the puddings from bursting. Prick them with a small fork as they rise, and boil them in milk and water. Lay them in a table cloth till cold. WHITE ONION SAUCE. Peel half a dozen white Spanish onions, cut them in half, and lay them in a pan of spring water for a quarter of an hour. Boil them an hour, or till quite tender, drain them well on a hair sieve, and then chop and bruise them fine. Put them into a clean saucepan with flour and butter, half a tea-spoonful of salt, and some cream or good milk. Stir it till it boils, rub the whole through a sieve, adding milk or cream to make it of a proper thickness. This is the usual sauce for boiled rabbits, mutton, or tripe; but there requires plenty of it. WHITE SAUCE. This favourite sauce is equally adapted to fowls, fricassee, rabbits, white meat, fish, and vegetables; and it is seldom necessary to purchase any fresh meat to make it, as the proportion of that flavour is but small. The liquor in which fowls, veal, or rabbit have been boiled, will answer the purpose; or the broth of whatever meat happens to be in the house, such as necks of chickens, raw or dressed veal. Stew with a little water any of these, with a bit of lemon peel, some sliced onion, some white peppercorns, a little pounded mace or nutmeg, and a bunch of sweet herbs. Keep it on the fire till the flavour is good; then strain it, and add a little good cream, a piece of butter, a very little flour, and salt to your taste. A squeeze of lemon may be added after the sauce is taken off the fire, shaking it well. Yolk of egg is often used in fricassee, cream is better, as the former is apt to curdle. WHITE SOUP. Take a scrag of mutton, a knuckle of veal, after cutting off as much meat as will make collops, two or three shank bones of mutton nicely cleaned, and a quarter of very fine undressed lean gammon of bacon. Add a bunch of sweet herbs, a piece of fresh lemon peel, two or three onions, three blades of mace, and a dessert-spoonful of white pepper. Boil all in three quarts of water, till the meat falls quite to pieces. Next day take off the fat, clear the jelly from the sediment, and put it into a nice tin saucepan. If maccaroni be used, it should be added soon enough to get perfectly tender, after soaking in cold water. Vermicelli may be added after the thickening, as it requires less time to do. Prepare the thickening beforehand thus: blanch a quarter of a pound of sweet almonds, and beat them to a paste in a marble mortar, with a spoonful of water to prevent their oiling. Then mince a large slice of cold veal or chicken, and beat it with a piece of stale white bread; add all this to a pint of thick cream, a bit of fresh lemon peel, and a blade of pounded mace. Boil it a few minutes, add to it a pint of soup, and strain and pulp it through a coarse sieve. This thickening is then fit for putting to the rest, which should boil for half an hour afterwards.--To make a plainer white soup, boil a small knuckle of veal, till the liquor is reduced to three pints. Add seasoning as above, and a quarter of a pint of good milk. Two spoonfuls of cream, and a little ground rice, will give it a proper thickness. The meat and the soup may both be served together.--Another. Take a scrag or knuckle of veal, slices of undressed gammon of bacon, onions, mace, and simmer them in a small quantity of water, till it is very strong. Lower it with a good beef broth made the day before, and stew it till the meat is done to rags. Add cream, vermicelli, a roll, and almonds. WHITE WINE WHEY. Set on the fire half a pint of new milk; the moment it boils up, pour in as much sound raisin wine as will completely turn it, and until it looks clear. Let it boil up, then set the saucepan aside till the curd subsides, and do not stir it. Pour the whey off, add to it half a pint of boiling water, and a little lump sugar. The whey will thus be cleared of milky particles, and may be made to any degree of weakness. WHITINGS. These may be had almost at any time, but are chiefly in season during the first three months of the year. In choosing them, the firmness of the body and fins is chiefly to be looked to; and in places where there is no regular supply of fish, it will be found an accommodation to dry them for keeping. The largest are best for this purpose. Take out the gills, the eyes, and the entrails, and remove the blood from the backbone. Wipe them dry, salt the inside, and lay them on a board for the night. Hang them up in a dry place, and after three or four days they will be fit to eat. When to be dressed, skin and rub them over with egg, and cover them with bread crumbs. Lay them before the fire, baste with butter till sufficiently browned, and serve them with egg sauce. WHITLOWS. As soon as the disorder is apparent, the finger affected is to be plunged into warm water, or the steam of boiling water may be applied to it. The application must be very frequently repeated the first day, and the complaint will soon be dispersed. Unfortunately however it is too generally supposed, that such slight attacks can have only slight consequences, and hence they are too apt to be neglected till the complaint has considerably increased. But in this state no time should be lost in resorting to skilful advice, as the danger attending these small tumours is much greater than is usually imagined. WHOLE RICE PANCAKES. Stew half a pound of whole rice in water till it is very tender, and let it stand in a basin to cool. Break it small, put to it half a pint of scalded cream, half a pound of clarified butter, a handful of flour, a little nutmeg and salt, and five eggs well beaten. Stir these well together, and fry them in butter or lard. Serve them up with sugar sifted over them, and a Seville orange or lemon cut and laid round the dish. This preparation may be made into a pudding, either baked or boiled, and with currants added or not, as approved. Three quarters of an hour will bake it, and an hour will boil it. WHOLE RICE PUDDING. Stew very gently a quarter of a pound of whole rice, in a pint and a half of new milk. When the rice is tender, pour it into a basin, stir in a piece of butter, and let it stand till quite cool. Then put in four eggs, a little salt, some nutmeg and sugar. Boil it an hour in a basin well buttered. WILD DUCKS. A wild duck, or a widgeon, will require twenty or twenty-five minutes roasting, according to the size. A teal, from fifteen to twenty minutes; and other birds of this kind, in proportion to their size, a longer or a shorter time. Baste them with butter, and take them up with the gravy in, sprinkling a little over them before they are quite done. Serve them up with shalot sauce in a boat, or with good gravy, and lemons cut in quarters. WILD FOWL. Season with salt and pepper, and put a piece of butter into each; but the flavour is best preserved without stuffing. To take off the fishy taste which wild fowl sometimes have, put an onion, salt, and hot water, into the dripping pan, and baste them with this for the first ten minutes: then take away the pan, and baste constantly with butter. Wild fowl require much less dressing than tame: they should be served of a fine colour, and well frothed up. A rich brown gravy should be sent in the dish; and when the breast is cut into slices, before taking off the bone, a squeeze of lemon, with pepper and salt, is a great improvement to the flavour. WILTSHIRE BACON. The way to cure Wiltshire bacon is to sprinkle the flitch with salt, and let the blood drain off for twenty-four hours. Then mix a pound and a half of coarse sugar, the same quantity of bay salt, not quite so much as half a pound of saltpetre, and a pound of common salt. Rub this mixture well on the bacon, turning it every day for a month: then hang it to dry, and afterwards smoke it ten days. The quantity of salts above mentioned is sufficient for the whole hog. WILTSHIRE CHEESE. This is made of new milk, a little lowered with water and skim milk. The curd is first broken with the hand and dish, care being taken to let the whey run off gradually, to prevent its carrying away with it the fat of the cowl. For thin cheese the curd is not broken so fine as in Gloucestershire; for thick cheese it is crushed finer still. The whey is poured off as it rises, and the curd pressed down. The mass is then pared down three or four times over, in slices about an inch thick, in order to extract all the whey from it, and then it is pressed and scalded as before. After separating the whey, the curd is sometimes broken again, and salted in the cowl; and at others it is taken warm out of the liquor, and salted in the vat. Thin cheeses are placed in one layer, with a small handful of salt; and thick ones in two layers, with two handfuls of salt; the salt being spread and rubbed uniformly among the curd. WINDSOR BEANS. These should be boiled in plenty of water, with a little salt, and be put in when the water boils. Serve them up with boiled bacon, and parsley and butter in a boat. WINDSOR BEANS FRICASSEED. When grown large, but not mealy, boil, blanch, and lay them in a white sauce previously heated up. Warm them through in the sauce, and serve them up. No beans but what are of a fine green should be used for this dish. WINDSOR PUDDING. Shred half a pound of suet very fine, grate into it half a pound of French roll, a little nutmeg, and the rind of a lemon. Add to these half a pound of chopped apple, half a pound of currants clean washed and fried, half a pound of jar raisins stoned and chopped, a glass of rich sweet wine, and five eggs well beaten, with a little salt. Mix all thoroughly together, and boil it in a basin or mould for three hours. Sift fine sugar over it when sent to table, and pour white wine sauce into the dish. WINDSOR SOAP. Cut the best white soap into thin slices, melt it over a slow fire, and scent it with oil of carraway, or any other agreeable perfume. Shaving boxes may then be filled with the melted soap, or it may be poured into a small drawer or any other mould; and after it has stood a few days to dry, it may be cut into square pieces ready for use. WINE. The moderate use of wine is highly conducive to health, especially in weak and languid habits, and in convalescents who are recovering from the attacks of malignant fevers. Hence it forms an extensive article of commerce, and immense quantities are consumed in this country. But nothing is more capable of being adulterated, or of producing more pernicious effects on the human constitution, and therefore it requires the strictest attention. A few simple means only will be sufficient to detect such adulterations, and to prevent their fatal consequences. If new white wine, for example, be of a sweetish flavour, and leave a certain astringency on the tongue; if it has an unusually high colour, disproportionate to its nominal age and real strength; or if it has a strong pungent taste, resembling that of brandy or other ardent spirits, such liquor may be considered as adulterated. When old wine presents either a very pale or a very deep colour, or possesses a very tart and astringent taste, and deposits a thick crust on the sides or bottom of glass vessels, it has then probably been coloured with some foreign substance. This may easily be detected by passing the liquor through filtering paper, when the colouring ingredients will remain on the surface. The fraud may also be discovered by filling a small vial with the suspected wine, and closing its mouth with the finger: the bottle is then to be inverted, and immersed in a basin of clear water. The finger being withdrawn, the tinging or adulterating matter will pass into the water, so that the former may be observed sinking to the bottom by its own weight. Wines becoming tart or sour, are frequently mixed with the juice of carrots and turnips; and if this do not recover the sweetness to a sufficient degree, alum or the sugar of lead is sometimes added; but which cannot fail to be productive of the worst effects, and will certainly operate as slow poison. To detect the alum, let the suspected liquor be mixed with a little lime water. At the end of ten or twelve hours the composition must be filtered, and if crystals be formed, it contains no alum. But if it be adulterated, the sediment will split into small segments, which will adhere to the filtering paper on which it is spread. In order to detect the litharge or sugar of lead, a few drops of the solution of yellow orpiment and quicklime should be poured into a glass of wine. If the colour of the liquor change, and become successively dark red, black or brown, it is an evident proof of its being adulterated with lead. As orpiment is poisonous, it would be better to use a few drops of vitriolic acid for this purpose, which should be introduced into a small quantity of the suspected liquor. This will cause the lead to sink to the bottom of the glass, in the form of a white powder. A solution of hepatic gas in distilled water, if added to wine sophisticated with lead, will produce a black sediment, and thus discover the smallest quantity of that poisonous metal; but in pure wine, no precipitation will take place. The following preparation has been proved to be a sufficient test for adulterated wine or cider. Let one dram of the dry liver of sulphur, and two drams of the cream of tartar, be shaken in two ounces of distilled water, till the whole become saturated with hepatic gas: the mixture is then to be filtered through blotting paper, and kept in a vial closely corked. In order to try the purity of wine, about twenty drops of this test are to be poured into a small glass: if the wine only become turbid with white clouds, and a similar sediment be deposited, it is then not impregnated with any metallic ingredients. But if it turn black or muddy, its colour approach to a deep red, and its taste be at first sweet, and then astringent, the liquor certainly contains the sugar, or other pernicious preparation of lead. The presence of iron is indicated by the wine acquiring a dark blue coat, after the test is put in, similar to that of pale ink; and if there be any particles of copper or verdigris, a blackish grey sediment will be formed. A small portion of sulphur is always mixed with white wines, in order to preserve them; but if too large a quantity be employed, the wine thus impregnated becomes injurious. Sulphur however may easily be detected, for if a piece of an egg shell, or of silver, be immersed in the wine, it instantly acquires a black hue. Quicklime is also mixed with wine, for imparting a beautiful red colour. Its presence may easily be ascertained by suffering a little wine to stand in a glass for two or three days; when the lime, held in solution, will appear on the surface in the form of a thin pellicle or crust. The least hurtful but most common adulteration of wine, is that of mixing it with water, which may be detected by throwing into it a small piece of quicklime. If it slack or dissolve the lime, the wine must have been diluted; but if the contrary, which will seldom be the case, the liquor may be considered as genuine. WINE COOLED. The best way of cooling wine or other liquors in hot weather, is to dip a cloth in cold water, and wrap it round the bottle two or three times, then place it in the sun. The process should be renewed once or twice. WINE POSSET. Boil some slices of white bread in a quart of milk. When quite soft, take it off the fire, grate in half a nutmeg, and a little sugar. Pour it out, and add by degrees a pint of sweet wine, and serve it with toasted bread. WINE REFINED. In order to refine either wine or cider, beat up the whites and shells of twenty eggs. Mix a quart of the liquor with them, and put it into the cask. Stir it well to the bottom, let it stand half an hour, and stop it up close. In a few days it may be bottled off. WINE ROLL. Soak a penny French roll in raisin wine till it will hold no more: put it in a dish, and pour round it a custard, or cream, sugar, and lemon juice. Just before it is served, sprinkle over it some nonpareil comfits, or stick into it a few blanched almonds slit. Sponge biscuits may be used instead of the roll. WINE SAUCE. For venison or hare, mix together a quarter of a pint of claret or port, the same quantity of plain mutton gravy, and a table-spoonful of currant jelly. Let it just boil up, and send it to table in a sauce boat. WINE VINEGAR. After making raisin wine, when the fruit has been strained, lay it on a heap to heat; then to every hundred weight, put fifteen gallons of water. Set the cask in the sun, and put in a toast of yeast. As vinegar is so necessary an article in a family, and one on which so great a profit is made, a barrel or two might always be kept preparing, according to what suited. If the raisins of wine were ready, that kind might be made; if gooseberries be cheap and plentiful, then gooseberry vinegar may be preferred; or if neither, then the sugar vinegar; so that the cask need not be left empty, or be liable to grow musty. WINE WHEY. Put on the fire a pint of milk and water, and the moment it begins to boil, pour in as much sweet wine as will turn it into whey, and make it look clear. Boil it up, and let it stand off the fire till the curd all sinks to the bottom. Do not stir it, but pour off the whey for use. Or put a pint of skimmed milk and half a pint of white wine into a basin, let it stand a few minutes, and pour over it a pint of boiling water. When the curd has settled to the bottom, pour off the whey, and put in a piece of lump sugar, a sprig of balm, or a slice of lemon. WINTER VEGETABLES. To preserve several vegetables to eat in the winter, observe the following rules. French beans should be gathered young, and put into a little wooden keg, a layer of them about three inches deep. Then sprinkle them with salt, put another layer of beans, and so on till the keg is full, but be careful not to sprinkle too much salt. Lay over them a plate, or a cover of wood that will go into the keg, and put a heavy stone upon it. A pickle will rise from the beans and salt; and if they are too salt, the soaking and boiling will not be sufficient to make them palatable. When they are to be eaten, they must be cut, soaked, and boiled as fresh beans. Carrots, parsnips, and beet root, should be kept in layers of dry sand, and neither they nor potatoes should be cleared from the earth. Store onions keep best hung up in a dry cold room. Parsley should be cut close to the stalks, and dried in a warm room, or on tins in a very cool oven. Its flavour and colour may thus be preserved, and will be found useful in winter. Artichoke bottoms, slowly dried, should be kept in paper bags. Truffles, morels, and lemon peel, should be hung in a dry place, and ticketed. Small close cabbages, laid on a stone floor before the frost sets in, will blanch and be very fine, after many weeks' keeping. WOOD. An excellent glue, superior to the common sort, and suitable for joining broken furniture or any kind of wood, may be made of an ounce of isinglass dissolved in a pint of brandy. The isinglass should be pounded, dissolved by gentle heat, strained through a piece of muslin, and kept in a glass closely stopped. When required for use, it should be dissolved with moderate heat, and applied the same as common glue. Its effect is so powerful as to join the parts of wood stronger than the wood itself, but should not be exposed to damp or moisture. WOODCOCKS. These will keep good for several days. Roast them without drawing, and serve them on toast. The thigh and back are esteemed the best. Butter only should be eaten with them, as gravy diminishes the fineness of the flavour. To roast woodcocks and snipes in the French method, take out the trails and chop them, except the stomachs, with some minced bacon, or a piece of butter. Add some parsley and chives, and a little salt. Put this stuffing into the birds, sow up the opening, and roast them with bacon covered with paper. Serve them up with Spanish sauce. WOOLLENS. To preserve articles of this sort from the moths, let them be well brushed and shaken, and laid up cool and dry. Then mix among them bitter apples from the druggists', in small muslin bags, carefully sewn up in several folds of linen, and turned in at the edges. WORMS. A strong decoction of walnut tree leaves thrown upon the ground where there are worm casts, will cause them to rise up. They may then be given to the poultry, or thrown into the fish pond. Salt and water, or a ley of wood ashes, poured into worm-holes on a gravel walk, will effectually destroy them. Sea water, the brine of salted meat, or soot, will be found to answer the same purpose. WORMS. Worms in children are denoted by paleness of the face, itching of the nose, grinding of the teeth during sleep, offensive breath, and nausea. The belly is hard and painful, and in the morning there is a copious flow of saliva, and an uncommon craving for dry food. Amongst a variety of other medicines for destroying worms in the human body, the following will be found effectual. Make a solution of tartarised antimony, two grains in four ounces of water, and take two or three tea-spoonfuls three times a day, for four days; and on the following day a purging powder of calomel and jalap, from three to six grains each. Or take half a pound of senna leaves well bruised, and twelve ounces of olive oil, and digest them together in a sand heat for four or five days. Strain off the liquor, take a spoonful in the morning fasting, persevere in it, and it will be found effectual in the most obstinate cases. A more simple remedy is to pour some port wine into a pewter dish, and let it stand for twenty-four hours. Half a common wine-glassful is a sufficient dose for an infant, and a whole one for an adult. WORMWOOD ALE. The proper way to make all sorts of herb drinks, is to gather the herbs in the right season. Then dry them in the shade, and put them into closed paper bags. When they are wanted for use, take out the proper quantity, put it into a linen bag, and suspend it in the beer or ale, while it is working or fermenting, from two to six or eight hours, and then take it out. Wormwood ought not to lie so long, three or four hours will be quite sufficient. If the herbs are properly gathered and prepared, all their pure and balsamic virtues will readily infuse themselves into the liquor, whether wine or beer, as the pure sweet quality in malt does into the warm liquor in brewing, which is done effectually in about an hour. But if malt is suffered to remain more than six hours, before the liquor is drawn off, all the nauseous properties will be extracted, and overpower the good ones. It is the same in infusing any sort of well-prepared herbs, and great care therefore is requisite in all preparations, that the pure qualities are neither evaporated or overpowered. Otherwise, whatever it be, it will soon tend to putrefaction, and become injurious and loathsome. Beer, ale, or other liquor, into which herbs are infused, must be unadulterated, or the infusion will be destroyed by its pernicious qualities. Nothing is more prejudicial to the health, or the intellectual faculties of mankind, than adulterated liquors. Articles which in their purest state are of an equivocal character, and never to be trusted without caution, are thus converted into decided poisons.--Another way of making wormwood ale. Take a quantity of the herb, according to the intended strength of the liquor, and infuse it for half an hour in the boiling wort. Then strain it off, and set the wort to cool. Wormwood beer prepared either ways, is a fine wholesome liquor. It is gentle, warming, assisting digestion, and refining to the blood, without sending any gross fumes to the head. The same method should be observed in making all sorts of drinks, in which any strong bitter herbs are infused. It renders them pleasant and grateful, both to the stomach and palate, and preserves all the medicinal virtues. Most bitter herbs have a powerful tendency to open obstructions, if judiciously managed; but in the way in which they are too commonly made, they are not only rendered extremely unpleasant, but their medicinal properties are destroyed. WOUNDS. If occasioned by a cut, it will be proper immediately to close the wounded part, so as to exclude the air and prevent its bleeding, and then any common sticking plaister may be applied. When the wound is deep and difficult to close, a bandage should be applied; and if the skin be lacerated, or the edges of the wound begin to be rough, lay on some lint dipped in sweet oil, and cover the whole with a piece of fine oil cloth. New honey spread on folded linen affords an excellent remedy for fresh and bleeding wounds, as it will prevent inflammation and the growth of proud flesh. In wounds which cannot readily be healed, on account of external inflammation and feverish heat, emollient poultices, composed of the crumb of bread boiled in milk, must be applied, and renewed several times in a day, without disturbing or touching the wounded part with the fingers. Wounds of the joints will heal most expeditiously by the simple application of cold water, provided the orifice of such wounds be immediately closed by means of adhesive plaster. WOW WOW. For stewed beef, chop some parsley leaves very fine, quarter two or three pickled cucumbers or walnuts, and divide them into small squares, and set them by ready. Put into a saucepan a good bit of butter, stir up with it a table-spoonful of fine flour, and about half a pint of the broth in which the beef was boiled. Add a table-spoonful of vinegar, as much ketchup or port wine, or both, and a tea-spoonful of made mustard. Let it simmer gently till it is sufficiently thickened, put in the parsley and pickles ready prepared, and pour it over the beef, or send it up in a sauce tureen. WRIT OF EJECTMENT. When a tenant has either received or given a proper notice to quit at a certain time, and fails to deliver up possession, it is at the option of the landlord to give notice of double rent, or issue a writ to dispossess the tenant. In the latter case he recovers the payment of the rent, or the surrender of the premises. In all cases between landlord and tenant, when half a year's rent is due, such landlord may serve a declaration or ejectment for the recovery of the premises, without any formal demand or re-entry. If the premises be unoccupied, though not surrendered, he may affix the declaration to the door, or any other conspicuous part of the dwelling, which will be deemed legal, and stand instead of a deed of re-entry. Y. YEAST. This is the barm or froth which rises in beer, and other malt liquors, during a state of fermentation. When thrown up by one quantity of malt or vinous liquid, it may be preserved to be put into another, at a future period; on which it will exert a similar fermentative action. Yeast is likewise used in the making of bread, without which it would be heavy and unwholesome. It has a vinous sour odour, a bitter taste arising from the hops in the malt liquor, and it reddens the vegetable blues. When it is filtered, a matter remains which possesses properties similar to vegetable gluten; by this separation the yeast loses the property of exciting fermentation, but recovers it again when the gluten is added. The addition of yeast to any vegetable substance, containing saccharine matter, excites fermentation by generating a quantity of carbonic acid gas. This very useful substance cannot always be procured conveniently from malt liquor for baking and brewing: the following method will be found useful for its extemporaneous preparation. Mix two quarts of soft water with wheat flour, to the consistence of thick gruel; boil it gently for half an hour, and when almost cold, stir into it half a pound of sugar and four spoonfuls of good yeast. Put the whole into a large jug, or earthen vessel, with a narrow top, and place it before the fire, that by a moderate heat it may ferment. The fermentation will throw up a thin liquor, which pour off and throw away; keep the remainder in a bottle, or jug tied over, and set it in a cool place. The same quantity of this as of common yeast will suffice to bake or brew with. Four spoonfuls of this yeast will make a fresh quantity as before, and the stock may always be kept up, by fermenting the new with the remainder of the former quantity.--Another method. Take six quarts of soft water, and two handfuls of wheaten meal or barley. Stir the latter in the water before the mixture is placed over the fire, where it must boil till two thirds are evaporated. When this decoction becomes cool, incorporate with it, by means of a whisk, two drams of salt of tartar, and one dram of cream of tartar, previously mixed. The whole should now be kept in a warm place. Thus a very strong yeast for brewing, distilling, and baking, may be obtained. For the last-mentioned purpose, however, it ought to be diluted with pure water, and passed through a sieve, before it is kneaded with the dough, in order to deprive it of its alkaline taste.--In countries where yeast is scarce, it is a common practice to twist hazel twigs so as to be full of chinks, and then to steep them in ale yeast during fermentation. The twigs are then hung up to dry, and at the next brewing they are put into the wort instead of yeast. In Italy the chips are frequently put into turbid wine for the purpose of clearing it, which is effected in about twenty-four hours.--A good article for baking bread may be made in the following manner. Boil a pound of fine flour, a quarter of a pound of brown sugar, and a little salt, in two gallons of water, for one hour. Let it stand till it is milk warm, then bottle and cork it close, and it will be fit for use in twenty-four hours. A pint of this yeast will make eighteen pounds of bread. Or mash a pound of mealy potatoes, and pulp them through a cullender; add two ounces of brown sugar, and two spoonfuls of common yeast. Keep it moderately warm while fermenting, and it will produce a quart of good yeast.--The best method of preserving common yeast, produced from beer or ale, is to set a quantity of it to settle, closely covered, that the spirit may not evaporate. Provide in the mean time as many small hair sieves as will hold the thick barm: small sieves are mentioned, because dividing the yeast into small quantities conduces to its preservation. Lay over each sieve a piece of coarse flannel that may reach the bottom, and leave at least eight inches over the rim. Pour off the thin liquor, and set it by to subside, as the grounds will do for immediate baking or brewing, if covered up for a few hours. Fill the sieves with the thick barm, and cover them up for two hours: then gather the flannel edges as a bag, and tie them firmly with twine. Lay each bag upon several folds of coarse linen, changing these folds every half hour, till they imbibe no more moisture. Then cover each bag with another piece of flannel, changing it if it becomes damp, and hang them in a cool airy place. The yeast should be strained before it is set to settle, and while the flannel bags are laid upon the folds of linen, they must be covered with a thick cloth. When the yeast is wanted for use, prepare a strong infusion of malt; to a gallon of which add a piece of dried barm, about the size of a goose's egg. The proportion indeed must depend upon its quality, which experience only can ascertain. The malt infusion must be nearly milk warm when the yeast is crumbled into it: for two hours it will froth high, and bake two bushels of flour into well-fermented bread. A decoction of green peas, or of ripened dry peas, with as much sugar as will sweeten it, makes fairer bread than the malt infusion; but it will take a larger quantity of dried yeast to produce fermentation. It was usual some years ago to reduce porter yeast to dryness, and in that state it was carried to the West Indies, where it was brought by means of water to its original state, and then employed as a ferment.--Another method of preserving yeast. Take a quantity of yeast, and work it well with a whisk till it becomes thin; then have a broad wooden platter, or tub, that is very clean and dry, and, with a soft brush, lay a layer of yeast all over the bottom, and turn the mouth downwards that no dust can fall in, but so that the air may come to it, to dry it. When that coat is very dry, lay on another; do so till you have as much as you intend to keep, taking care that one coat is dry before you lay on another. When you have occasion to make use of this yeast, cut a piece off, and lay it in warm water; stir it till it is dissolved, and it is fit for use. If it is for brewing, take a whisk, or a large handful of birch tied together, and dip it into the yeast, and hang it up to dry; when it is dry wrap it up in paper, and keep it in a dry place; thus you may do as many as you please. When your beer is fit to work, throw in one of your whisks, and cover it over; it will set it a working as well as fresh yeast. When you find you have a head sufficient, take out your whisk and hang it up. If the yeast is not all off, it will do for your next brewing. YEAST CAKES. The inhabitants of Long Island in America are in the habit of making yeast cakes once a year. These are dissolved and mixed with the dough, which it raises in such a manner as to form it into very excellent bread. The following is the method in which these cakes are made. Rub three ounces of hops so as to separate them, and then put them into a gallon of boiling water, where they are to boil for half an hour. Now strain the liquor through a fine sieve into an earthen vessel, and while it is hot, put in three pounds and a half of rye flour, stirring the liquid well and quickly as the flour is put in. When it has become milk warm, add half a pint of good yeast. On the following day, while the mixture is fermenting, stir well into it seven pounds of Indian corn meal, and it will render the whole mass stiff like dough. This dough is to be well kneaded and rolled out into cakes about a third of an inch in thickness. These cakes are to be cut out into large disks or lozenges, or any other shape, by an inverted glass tumbler or any other instrument; and being placed on a sheet of tinned iron, or on a piece of board, are to be dried by the heat of the sun. If care be taken to turn them frequently, and to see that they take no wet or moisture, they will become as hard as ship biscuit, and may be kept in a bag or box, which is to be hung up or kept in an airy and perfectly dry situation. When bread is to be made, two cakes of the above-mentioned thickness, and about three inches in diameter, are to be broken and put into hot water, where they are to remain all night, the vessel standing near the fire. In the morning they will be entirely dissolved, and then the mixture is to be employed in setting the sponge, in the same way as beer yeast is used. In making a farther supply for the next year, beer or ale yeast may be used as before; but this is not necessary where a cake of the old stock remains, for this will act on the new mixture precisely in the same way. If the dry cakes were reduced to powder in a mortar, the same results would take place, with perhaps more convenience, and in less time. Indian meal is used because it is of a less adhesive nature than wheat flour, but where Indian meal cannot easily be procured, white pea-meal, or even barley-meal, will answer the purpose equally well. The principal art or requisite in making yeast cakes, consists in drying them quickly and thoroughly, and in preventing them from coming in contact with the least particle of moisture till they are used. YEAST DUMPLINS. Make a very light dough as for bread, only in a smaller quantity. When it has been worked up, and risen a sufficient time before the fire, mould it into good sized dumplins, put them into boiling water, and let them boil twenty minutes. The dough may be made up with milk and water if preferred. These dumplins are very nice when done in a potatoe steamer, and require about thirty-five minutes, if of a good size. The steamer must not be opened till they are taken up, or it will make the dumplins heavy. Dough from the baker's will answer the purpose very well, if it cannot conveniently be made at home. The dough made for rolls is the most delicate for dumplins. If not eaten as soon as they are taken up, either out of the water or the steamer, they are apt to fall and become heavy. Eaten with cold butter they are much better than with any kind of sauce, except meat dripping directly from the pan. The addition of a few currants will make good currant dumplins. YELLOW BLAMANGE. Pour a pint of boiling water to an ounce of isinglass, and add the peel of one lemon. When cold, put in two ounces of sifted sugar, a quarter of a pint of white wine, the yolks of four eggs, and the juice of a lemon. Stir all well together, let it boil five minutes, strain it through a bag, and put it into cups. YELLOW DYE. There is a new stain for wood, and a yellow dye for cloth, which consists of a decoction of walnut or hickory bark, with a small quantity of alum dissolved in it, in order to give permanency to the colour. Wood of a white colour receives from the application of this liquid a beautiful yellow tinge, which is not liable to fade. It is particularly for furniture made of maple, especially that kind of it which is called bird's eye, and which is commonly prepared by scorching its surface over a quick fire. The application of the walnut dye gives a lustre even to the darkest shades, while to the paler and fainter ones it adds somewhat of a greenish hue, and to the whiter parts various tints of yellow. After applying this stain to cherry and apple wood, the wood should be slightly reddened with a tincture of some red dye, whose colour is not liable to fade. A handsome dye is thus given to it which does not hide the grain, and which becomes still more beautiful as the wood grows darker by age. Walnut bark makes the most permanent yellow dye for dyeing cloth of any of the vegetable substances used in this country. Care should be taken that the dye be not too much concentrated: when this happens, the colour is far less bright and delicate, and approaches nearer to orange. It is hardly necessary to add, that the dye should be boiled and kept in a brass vessel, or in some other which has no iron in its composition. A lively yellow colour for dyeing cloth, may be produced from potato tops. Gather them when ready to flower, press out the juice, mix it with a little water, and suffer the cloth to remain in it for twenty-four hours. The cloth, whether of wool, cotton, or flax, is then to be dipped in spring water. By plunging the cloth thus tinged with yellow, into a vessel of blue dye, a brilliant and lasting green is obtained. YELLOW LEMON CREAM. Pare four lemons very thin into twelve large spoonfuls of water, and squeeze the juice on seven ounces of finely powdered sugar. Beat well the yolks of nine eggs; then add the peels and juice of the lemons, and work them together for some time. Strain the whole through a flannel, into a silver saucepan, or one of very nice block-tin, and set it over a gentle fire. Stir it one way till it is pretty thick, and scalding hot, but not boiling, or it will curdle. Pour it into jelly glasses. A few lumps of sugar should be rubbed hard on the lemons before they are pared, to attract the essence, and give a better colour and flavour to the cream. YORKSHIRE CAKES. Mix two pounds of flour with four ounces of butter melted in a pint of good milk, three spoonfuls of yeast, and two eggs. Beat all well together, and let it rise; then knead it, and make it into cakes. Let them first rise on tins, and then bake in a slow oven.--Another sort is made as above, leaving out the butter. The first sort is shorter; the last lighter. YORKSHIRE KNEAD CAKES. Rub six ounces of butter into a pound of flour till it is very fine, and mix it into a stiff paste with milk. Knead it well, and roll it out several times. Make it at last about an inch thick, and cut it into cakes, in shapes according to the fancy. Bake them on an iron girdle, and when done on one side turn them on the other. Cut them open and butter them hot. They also eat well cold or toasted. Half a pound of currants well washed and dried may be added at pleasure. YORKSHIRE HAMS. Mix half a pound of salt, three ounces of saltpetre, half an ounce of sal prunella, and five pounds of coarse sugar. Rub the hams with this mixture, after it has been well incorporated, and lay the remainder of it upon the top. Then put some water to the pickle, adding salt till it will bear an egg. Boil and strain it, cover the hams with it, and let them lie a fortnight. Rub them well with bran, and dry them. The above ingredients are sufficient for three good hams. YORKSHIRE PUDDING. Mix five spoonfuls of flour with a quart of milk, and three eggs well beaten. Butter the pan. When the pudding is brown by baking under the meat, turn the other side upwards, and brown that. Set it over a chafing-dish at first, and stir it some minutes. It should be made in a square pan, and cut into pieces before it comes to table. YOUNG FOWLS. The following will be found to be a nice way of dressing up a small dish. Bone, singe, and wash a young fowl. Make a forcemeat of four ounces of veal, two ounces of lean ham scraped, two ounces of fat bacon, two hard yolks of eggs, a few sweet herbs chopped, two ounces of beef suet, a tea-spoonful of lemon peel minced fine, an anchovy, salt, pepper, and a very little cayenne. Beat all in a mortar, with a tea-cupful of crumbs, and the yolks and whites of three eggs. Stuff the inside of the fowl, draw the legs and wings inwards, tie up the neck and rump close. Stew the fowl in a white gravy; when it is done through and tender, add a large cupful of cream, with a bit of butter and flour. Give it one boil, add the squeeze of a lemon, and serve it up. YOUNG ONION SAUCE. Peel a pint of button onions, and lay them in water. Put them into a stewpan with a quart of cold water, and let them boil for half an hour or more, till they are quite tender. They may then be put to half a pint of mushroom sauce. FINIS. J. AND R. CHILDS, PRINTERS, BUNGAY. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired with the exception of emdashes and long dashes which seem to have been chosen on a whim. This was retained as no clear usage could be determined. Varied hyphenation was retained. Archaic spelling was retained, this includes words such as "controul" and "bason." Decisions on what to correct were mainly made on the spelling occurring more than once in the text. The dictionary portion of the text places the letter V before the letter U. Page viii, "coudescend" changed to "condescend" (who condescend to examine) Page xiv, "sometims" changed to "sometimes" (and sometimes never is) Page 10, extra word "a". Original reads: (pint add a a pound) Page 23, "fricasee" changed to "fricassee" (fricassee sauce; adding cream) Page 29, "salsafy" changed to "salsify" (rape, salsify, herbs) Page 37, "composion" changed to "composition" (sifted. This composition) Page 40, "perper" changed to "pepper" (parsely, salt, pepper) Page 41, "artle" changed to "article" (a much better article) Page 46, "or" changed to "of" (of as much wort) Page 53, "Housleek" changed to "Houseleek" (Houseleek used by) Page 55, "Boorhaave" changed to "Boorhaäve" (Boerhaäve recommended the) Page 55, "runnet" changed to "rennet" (rennet as is sufficient) Page 57, "of" changed to "off" (take off the fat) Page 59, "trufflles" changed to "truffles" (cayenne, a few truffles) Page 63, "thorougly" changed to "thoroughly" (thoroughly blended, so as) Page 63, "boi" changed to "boil" (days; then boil) Page 64, "wisk" changed to "whisk" (swept with a whisk) Page 65, "seady" changed to "ready" (ready cut up) Page 65, "prerides" changed to "presides" (a lady presides) Page 81, "CLARIFED" changed to "CLARIFIED" (CLARIFIED SUGAR. Break) Page 82, "degress" changed to "degrees" (be added by degrees, keeping) Page 87, "them" changed to "then" (then be oval) Page 91, "accomodation" changed to "accommodation" (accommodation of mercenary) Page 98, "acacording" changed to "according" (buttermilk strained, according) Page 98, "gizards" changed to "gizzards" (line the gizzards of turkeys) Page 102, "marjarom" changed to "marjoram" (marjoram, pepper, salt) Page 103, "scissars" changed to "scissors" (scissors in the other) Page 106, "rhubard" changed to "rhubarb" (two of rhubarb, four) Page 108, "tkem" changed to "them" (liberty to rescue them) Page 117, "but' changed to "put" (and put in six) Page 122, "peefectly" changed to "perfectly" (after being perfectly soaked) Page 122, "soakd" changed to "soaked" (after being perfectly soaked) Page 140, " e" changed to "lie" (let it lie closely) Page 144, "i" changed to "in" (saving in the article) Page 149, "candid" changed to "candied" (sweetmeats, add some candied) Page 167, "ot" changed to "of" (of coarse sugar. Let) Page 174, "vingear" changed to "vinegar" (vinegar, to change his) Page 198, "coppera" changed to "copperas" (mixture of alum and copperas) Page 204, "und" changed to "and" (and take a small) Page 231, word "do" added to text (In order to do this) Page 237, "trough" changed to "through" (passed through a riddle) Page 239, "penicious" changed to "pernicious" (of course pernicious) Page 244, "dey" changed to "dry" (three weeks, then dry) Page 249, "crums" changed to "crumbs" (with crumbs of bread) Page 251, "smootly" changed to "smoothly" (on a tin foil, smoothly) Page 263, "surperfluous" changed to "superfluous" (burning; the superflous) Page 266, "than" changed to "then" (the pan, then shift) Page 267, "d wn" changed to "down" (Press down each, and) Page 267, word "be" added to text (flour. These are to be) Page 279, "infeority" changed to "inferiority" (dressed, their inferiority) Page 288, "chaffing" changed to "chafing" (over a chafing-dish) Page 294, "Out" changed to "Cut" (OF MORELS. Cut) Page 309, "stir it is till it cool" changed to "stir it till it is cool" (stir it till it is cool) Page 316, repeated word "it" removed from text. Original read (it it in pieces of four) Page 324, "o" changed to "of" (one pound of currants) Page 326, "binns" changed to "bins" (kept in sacks or bins) Page 336, "ofe th" changed to "of the" (strain the contents of the) Page 364, "rgeat" changed to "great" (great rarefaction, causes) Page 391, "injuririous" changed to "injurious" (to produce an injurious) Page 414, "celebated" changed to "celebrated" (STRAMONIUM. This celebrated) Page 432, "cherries" changed to "Cherries" (apples, &c. Cherries,) Page 434, "regulary" changed to "regularly" (regularly cleaned, are apt) Page 436, "chessnut" changed to "chesnut" (thistles, and chesnuts,) Page 442, "brililant" changed to "brilliant" (the pale yet brilliant) Page 442, "TRASPLANTING" changed to "TRANSPLANTING" (TRANSPLANTING OF FLOWERS) Page 447, "romoved" changed to "removed" (removed by slow degrees) Page 456, "YOURT" changed to "YOGURT" (TURKISH YOGURT. Let a small) Page 485, the entry for "WILD DUCKS" was moved to before "WILD FOWL." Page 489, "close" changed to "closed" (closed paper bags) 
10136	----	Distributed Proofreaders THE BOOK OF HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT; Comprising Information for the MISTRESS, HOUSEKEEPER, COOK, KITCHEN-MAID, BUTLER, FOOTMAN, COACHMAN, VALET, UPPER AND UNDER HOUSE-MAIDS, LADY'S-MAID, MAID-OF-ALL-WORK, LAUNDRY-MAID, NURSE AND NURSE-MAID, MONTHLY, WET, AND SICK NURSES, ETC. ETC. ALSO, SANITARY, MEDICAL, & LEGAL MEMORANDA; WITH A HISTORY OF THE ORIGIN, PROPERTIES, AND USES OF ALL THINGS CONNECTED WITH HOME LIFE AND COMFORT. BY MRS. ISABELLA BEETON. Nothing lovelier can be found In Woman, than to study household good.--MILTON. Published Originally By S. O. Beeton in 24 Monthly Parts 1859-1861. First Published in a Bound Edition 1861. PREFACE. I must frankly own, that if I had known, beforehand, that this book would have cost me the labour which it has, I should never have been courageous enough to commence it. What moved me, in the first instance, to attempt a work like this, was the discomfort and suffering which I had seen brought upon men and women by household mismanagement. I have always thought that there is no more fruitful source of family discontent than a housewife's badly-cooked dinners and untidy ways. Men are now so well served out of doors,--at their clubs, well-ordered taverns, and dining-houses, that in order to compete with the attractions of these places, a mistress must be thoroughly acquainted with the theory and practice of cookery, as well as be perfectly conversant with all the other arts of making and keeping a comfortable home. In this book I have attempted to give, under the chapters devoted to cookery, an intelligible arrangement to every recipe, a list of the _ingredients_, a plain statement of the _mode_ of preparing each dish, and a careful estimate of its _cost_, the _number of people_ for whom it is _sufficient_, and the time when it is _seasonable_. For the matter of the recipes, I am indebted, in some measure, to many correspondents of the "Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine," who have obligingly placed at my disposal their formulas for many original preparations. A large private circle has also rendered me considerable service. A diligent study of the works of the best modern writers on cookery was also necessary to the faithful fulfilment of my task. Friends in England, Scotland, Ireland, France, and Germany, have also very materially aided me. I have paid great attention to those recipes which come under the head of "COLD MEAT COOKERY." But in the department belonging to the Cook I have striven, too, to make my work something more than a Cookery Book, and have, therefore, on the best authority that I could obtain, given an account of the natural history of the animals and vegetables which we use as food. I have followed the animal from his birth to his appearance on the table; have described the manner of feeding him, and of slaying him, the position of his various joints, and, after giving the recipes, have described the modes of carving Meat, Poultry, and Game. Skilful artists have designed the numerous drawings which appear in this work, and which illustrate, better than any description, many important and interesting items. The coloured plates are a novelty not without value. Besides the great portion of the book which has especial reference to the cook's department, there are chapters devoted to those of the other servants of the household, who have all, I trust, their duties clearly assigned to them. Towards the end of the work will be found valuable chapters on the "Management of Children"----"The Doctor," the latter principally referring to accidents and emergencies, some of which are certain to occur in the experience of every one of us; and the last chapter contains "Legal Memoranda," which will be serviceable in cases of doubt as to the proper course to be adopted in the relations between Landlord and Tenant, Tax-gatherer and Tax-payer, and Tradesman and Customer. These chapters have been contributed by gentlemen fully entitled to confidence; those on medical subjects by an experienced surgeon, and the legal matter by a solicitor. I wish here to acknowledge the kind letters and congratulations I have received during the progress of this work, and have only further to add, that I trust the result of the four years' incessant labour which I have expended will not be altogether unacceptable to some of my countrymen and countrywomen. ISABELLA BEETON. GENERAL CONTENTS CHAP. I.--THE MISTRESS. 2.--THE HOUSEKEEPER. 3.--ARRANGEMENT AND ECONOMY OF THE KITCHEN. 4.--INTRODUCTION TO COOKERY. 5.--GENERAL DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING SOUPS. 6.--RECIPES. 7.--THE NATURAL HISTORY OF FISHES. 8.--RECIPES. 9.--SAUCES, PICKLES, GRAVIES, AND FORCEMEATS.--GENERAL REMARKS. 10.--RECIPES. 11.--VARIOUS MODES OF COOKING MEAT. 12.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON QUADRUPEDS. 13.--RECIPES. 14.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SHEEP AND LAMB. 15.--RECIPES. 16.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE COMMON HOG. 17.--RECIPES. 18.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE CALF. 19.--RECIPES. 20.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. 21.--RECIPES. 22.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON GAME. 23.--RECIPES. 24.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON VEGETABLES. 25.--RECIPES. 26.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON PUDDINGS AND PASTRY. 27.--RECIPES 28.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON CREAMS, JELLIES, SOUFFLÉS, OMELETS, AND SWEET DISHES. 29--RECIPES. 30.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON PRESERVES, CONFECTIONERY, ICES, AND DESSERT DISHES. 31.--RECIPES. 32.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON MILK, BUTTER, CHEESE, AND EGGS. 33.--RECIPES. 34.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON BREAD, BISCUITS, AND CAKES. 35.--RECIPES. 36.--GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON BEVERAGES. 37.--RECIPES. 38.--INVALID COOKERY. 39.--RECIPES. 40.--DINNERS AND DINING. 41.--DOMESTIC SERVANTS. 42.--THE REARING AND MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN, AND DISEASES OF INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 43.--THE DOCTOR 44.--LEGAL MEMORANDA ANALYTICAL INDEX. NOTE.--Where a "_p_" occurs before the number for reference, the _page_, and not the paragraph, is to be sought. Accidents, injuries, &c. remarks on 2578 Agreements 2705-7 Alexanders 1108 Alkalis 2654 Allium, the genus 1129 Allspice 438 Almond, the 1219 Bitter 1220 Cake 1752 Cheesecakes 1219 Flowers 1316 Icing for cakes 1735 Paste, for second-course dishes 1220 Pudding, baked 1221 Puddings, small 1222 Puffs 1223 Soup 110 Tree 110, 1487 Uses of the Sweet 1221 Almonds, and raisins 1605 Husks of 1222 Anchovy, the 226 Butter 1637 Butter or paste 227 Paste 228 Sauce 362 Toast 228 Anchovies, fried 226 Potted 227 Animals, period between birth and maturity 92 Quality of the flesh of 93-5 Saxon names of 709 Tails of 640 Tongues of 675 Apoplexy 2634-6 Apple, the 111 Charlotte 1420 Charlotte aux pommes 1418 an easy method of making 1419 Cheesecakes 1226 Constituents of the 1229 Custard, baked 1389 Dumplings, baked 1225 boiled 1227 Fritters 1393 Ginger 1424, 1516 Jam 1517 Jelly 1518-19 clear 1396 or marmalade 1395 Pudding, baked, rich 1228 more economical 1229 very good 1231 boiled 1232 iced 1290 rich, sweet 1230 Sauce, brown 364 for geese or pork 363 Snow 1401 Snowballs 1235 Soufflé 1402 Soup 111 Tart, creamed 1234 or pie 1233 Tourte or cake 1236 Trifle 1404 Universally popular 1236 Uses of the 1225-6 Apples, à la Portugaise 1398 And rice 1400 a pretty dish 1397 Buttered 1390 Compote of 1515 Dish of 1603 Flanc of 1391-2 Ginger 1424 Ices 1394 In red jelly 1399 Stewed, and custard 1403 To preserve in quarters (imitation of ginger) 1520 Apprentices 2724 Apricot, cream 1405 Jam or marmalade 1522 Pudding 1238 Qualities of the 1239 Tart 1239 Apricots, compote of 1521 Flanc of 1406 Arrowroot, biscuits, or drops 1738 Blancmange 1407 Arrowroot, Manufacture of 387, 1240 Pudding, baked or boiled 1240 Sauce for puddings 1356 To make 1855 What Miss Nightingale says of 1855 Arsenic 2656 Artichoke, composite or composite flowers of 1080 Constituent properties of the 1083 Jerusalem 1086 Uses of the 1084 Artichokes, a French mode of cooking 1082 A l'Italienne 1083 Fried 1081 Jerusalem, boiled 1084 mashed 1085 soup 112 with white sauce 1086 To boil 1080 Asparagus, ancient notion of 114 Boiled 1087 Island 1087 Medicinal uses of 1088 Peas 1088 Pudding 1089 Sauce 365 Soup 113-14 Aspic, or ornamental savoury jelly 366 Attestation to wills 2750 Bachelor's omelet 1462 Pudding 1241 Bacon, boiled 804 Broiled rashers of 803 Curing of 822 and keeping it free from rust 806-9 in the Devonshire way 821 in the Wiltshire way 805 Fried rashers of, and poached eggs 802 Bain-Marie 430 Bakewell pudding, very rich 1242 Plainer 1243 Ball suppers _pp._ 957-8 Bandoline, to make 2255 Bantam, the 939 Barbel, the 229 To dress 229 Barberries, in bunches 1523 Barberry, description of the 1245 Tart 1245 Barley, 116 Gruel 1856 Soup 116 Sugar 1524 Water, to make 1857 Baroness pudding 1244 Basil 173 Baths and fomentations, remarks on 2599 Cold 2603 Heat of 2600 Warm and hot bath 2601 Batter pudding, baked 1246 with fruits 1247 boiled 1248 orange 1249 Bay or laurel, varieties of 180 Consecrated by priests 512 Bean, haricot, the 1120 Beans, boiled, broad or Windsor 1092 French 1090 Broad, à la poulette 1093 French mode of cooking 1091 Haricots and minced onions 1121 blancs à la maitre d'hôtel 1120 blancs, or white haricots 1119 and lentils 1119 Nutritive properties of 1092 Origin and varieties of 1093 Béchamel, or French white sauce 367 Maigre, or without meat 368 Sauce 406 Beef, aitchbone of, boiled 607 to carve an _p._ 316 A la mode 601-2 Baked 598-9 Baron of 679 Bones, broiled 614 Brisket of, à la Flamande 649 to carve a _p._ 317 to stew 649 Broiled, and mushroom sauce 612 oyster sauce 613 Cake 610 Carving _p._ 316 Collared 617 Collops 18 minced 619 Curried 620 Different seasons for 611 Dripping, to clarify 621-2 Fillet of roast, larded 623 French 649 Frenchman's opinion of 626 Fricandeau of 624 Fried, salt 625 Fritters 627 Hashed 628-9 Hung, to prepare 630 Hunter's 631 Kidney, to dress 632-4 Marrow-bones boiled 635 Minced 636 Miriton of 637 Names of the several joints 597 Olives 650-1 Palates, to dress 653 Pickle for 654 Potted 642-3 Qualities of 599 Ragoût of 656 Rib bones of 644 Ribs of, boned and rolled, roast (joint for a small family) 658 roast 657 to carve _p._ 317 Rissoles 615 Roast 658 Rolled 646 Rolls 647 Round of, boiled 608 miniature 618 to carve a _p._ 318 Round of, to pickle part of a 655 Rump of, stewed 670 steak 666 Sausages 662 Seasons for 611 Shin of, stewed 671 Sirloin of, roast 659 to carve a _p._ 317 Sliced and broiled 664 Spiced (to serve cold) 665 Steak, a fried rump 626 and kidney pudding 603 oyster sauce 603 broiled 611 pie 604 pudding, baked 650 rolled, roasted, and stuffed 663 stewed, and celery sauce 667 with oysters 668 with fried potatoes 606 Tea, baked 1860 savoury 1859 to make 1858 Tongue, boiled 673 pickle for 641 to carve a _p._ 318 to cure a 674-5 to pickle and dress a, to eat cold 676 To salt 660 Dutch way 661 Beef-tea, Dr. Christison's 1859 Miss Nightingale's opinion of 1858 Beer, table 191 Beetroot 1094 Boiled 1094 Pickled 369 Benton sauce 370 Bequests, legacies, &c. 2744-9 Beverages, general observations on 1789, 1806 Bills of fare, for January _pp._ 909-13 February 914-17 March 918-21 April 922-25 May 926-29 June 930-33 July 934-36 August 937-39 September 940-42 October 943-45 November 946-48 December 949-52 ball supper for 60 persons _p._ 957 ball supper, cold collation, for a summer entertainment for 70 or 80 persons _p._ 958 breakfasts 959 game dinner for 30 persons _p._ 953 luncheons and suppers _p._ 959 menu, service à la Russe _pp._ 954-5 picnic for 40 persons 960 suppers _p._ 956 Birds, general observations on 917-25 Biscuit powder 1737 Biscuits, arrowroot 1738 Cocoa nut 1740 Crisp 1741 Dessert 1742 Lemon 1743 Macaroons 1744 Ratafias 1745 Remarks on 1712-15 Rice 1746 Rock 1747 Savoy 1748 Seed 1749 Simple, hard 1750 Soda 1751 Bites and stings, general remarks on 2609 of insects 2610-11 of snakes 2612 Of dogs 2613 Blackcock, heathcock, &c. 1019 Roast 1019 To carve a 1054 Blancmange 1408 Arrowroot. 1407 Cheap 1409 Lemon 1442 Rice 1476 Bleeding, from the nose 2607 Operation of 2605-6 Blonde, to clean 2265 Blood, spitting of 2608 Boar's head, importance of the 815 The Westphalian 787 Bones, dislocation of 2614 Fracture of 2615 Bonnets 2244 Books of account 2731 Boots, polish for 2240-1 Bottled fresh fruit 1542-3 with sugar 1544 Boudin, à la reine 961 Brain, concussion of, stunning 2623 Brandy, cherry 1526 Lemon 460 Orange 1826 Varieties of 1328 Bread, and bread-making 1668-1703 And-butter fritters 1410 pudding 1255 Crumbs, fried 424 Fried for borders 426 Indian-corn-flour 1721 Making in Spain 1776 Origin of 117 Properties of 1252 Pudding, baked 1250 boiled 1252 brown 1253 miniature 1254 very plain 1254 Rice 1720 Sauce 371-2 Sippets of, fried 425 Soda 1722 Bread, soup 117 To make a peck of good 1719 To make good home-made 1718 To make yeast for 1716 Breakfasts _p._ 959, _par_ 2144-6 Breath, shortness of, or difficult breathing 2670 Bride-cake, rich 1753 Bridles 2218 Brill, the 230 To carve a _pp._ 175-6 Brilla soup 166 Brocoli, boiled 1095 Broth, calf's-foot 1862 Chicken 1863 Eel 1866 Mutton to make 1872 Mutton to quickly make 1873 Brown roux for thickening gravies 525 Browning, for sauces and gravies 373 For stock 108 Bruises, lacerations, and cuts 2617 Treatment of 2618 Brushes, to wash 2250 Brussels sprouts, boiled 1096 Bubble-and-squeak 616 Bullock's heart, to dress a 615 Buns, light 1731 Plain 1729 To make good plain 1730 Victoria 1732 Burns and scalds 2619 Treatment of the first class of 2620 Treatment of the second class 2621 Treatment of the third class 2622 Butler, care of plate and house 2162 Duties of the, at breakfast, luncheon, dinner, and dessert 2157-9 luncheon, in the drawing-room 2161 Lights, attention to 2160 Wine, bottling 2167-70 Wine, cellar 2163-5 Wine, fining 2166 Butter, anchovy 227,1637 Antiquity of 1205 Beurre noir, or brown butter (a French sauce) 374 Clarified 375 Colouring of 1636 Curled 1635 Easily digested 1255 Fairy 1636 General observations on 1615-19 How to keep 1635 How to keep fresh 1207 In haste 1206 Maitre d'hôtel 465 Melted 376-7 Melted (the French sauce blanche) 378 Melted made with milk 380 Moulds for moulding fresh butter 1634 Thickened 379 To keep and choose, fresh 1632 To preserve and to choose, salt 1633 What to do with rancid 1208 Cabbage, the 118 Boiled 1098 Colewort, or wild 1099 Green kale, or borecole 1097 Kohl-Rabi, or turnip 1095 Qualities of the 1169 Red, pickled 499 Red, stewed 1099 Savoy, and Brussels sprouts 1096 Savoy, description of the 140 Soup 118 Tribe and their origin 1098 Turnip tops and greens 1169 Cabinet, or chancellor's pudding 1256 Plain, or boiled bread-and-butter pudding 1257 Café au lait 1812 Noir 1813 Cake, almond 1752 Breakfast, nice 1739 Bride or Christening 1753 Christmas 1754 Cocoa-nut 1740 Economical 1756 Good holiday 1763 Honey 1758 Lemon 1764 Luncheon 1765 Nice useful 1757 Pavini 1771 Plain 1766 Plain for children 1767 Plum, common 1768 Plum, nice 1769 Pound 1770 Queen 1773 Rice 1746, 1772 Saucer, for tea 1774 Savoy 1748, 1782 Scrap 1779 Seed, common 1775 seed, very good 1776 Snow 1777-8 Soda 1781 Sponge 1783-4 Sponge Small, to make 1785 Tea 1786 Tea to toast 1787 Tipsy 1487 Tipsy an easy way of making 1488 Yeast 1788 Cakes, hints on making and baking 1704-11 Calf, the 173 Birth of the 893 Breeding of the 858 Fattening the 903 Feeding a 862 General observations on the 845-53 In America 864 Names of the 899 Symbol of Divine power 890 The golden 873 When it should be killed 860 Calf's feet, baked or stewed 1861 Calf's feet, boiled with parsley and butter 860 Calf's feet, broth 1862 Calf's feet, fricasseed 861 jelly 1416 Head, à la Maitre d'hôtel 864 boiled 876-7 collared 862 club 867 fricasseed 863 hashed 878 soup 167 to carve a 913 Liver and bacon 881 aux fines herbes 880 larded and roasted 882 Udder, for French forcemeats 421 Calomel 2658 Camp-vinegar 381 Canary-pudding 1258 Candlesticks 2311 Cannelons, or fried puffs 1417 Caper-sauce, for boiled mutton 382 For fish 383 Substitute for 384 Capercalzie, the 1026 Capers 383 Capsicums, pickled 385 Carbonate of soda 1765 Carp, the 242 Age of the 243 Baked 242 Stewed 243 Carpet sweeping 2312 Carriages 2225-9 Carrot, the 121 Constituents of the 1101 Jam, to imitate apricot preserve 1525 Nutritive properties of the 1102 Origin of the 1100 Pudding, boiled or baked 1259 Seed of the 1103 Soup 120-1 Varieties of the 1172 Carrots, boiled 1100 Sliced 1103 Stewed 1102 To dress in the German way 1101 Carving, beef _p._ 316 aitchbone of _p._ 316 brisket of _p._ 317 ribs of _p._ 317 round of _p._ 318 sirloin of _p._ 317 Blackcock 1054 Brill _pp._ 175-6 Calf's head 913 Codfish _p._ 174 Duck 999 wild 1055 Fowl 1000-1 Goose 1002 Grouse 1058 Ham 843 Hare 1056 Lamb 764-5 Landrail 1063 Mutton, haunch of 759 leg of 760 loin of 761 mutton, saddle of 762 shoulder of 763 Partridge 1057 Pheasant 1059 Pigeon 1063 Plover 1066 Pork 842 leg of 844 Ptarmigan 1064 Quail 1065 Rabbit 1004 Salmon _p._ 175 Snipe 1060 Soles _p._ 175 Sucking-pig 842 Teal 1067 Tongue _p._ 318 Turbot _p._ 175 Turkey 1005 Veal 854 breast of 912 fillet of 914 knuckle of 915 loin of 916 Venison, haunch of 1061 Widgeon 1068 Woodcock 1062 Cauliflower, description of the 1105 Properties of the 1151 Cauliflowers, à la sauce blanche 1105 Boiled 1104 With Parmesan cheese 1106 Cayenne, varieties of 362 Vinegar or essence of cayenne 386 Celery, indigenous to Britain 122 Origin of 1109 Sauce for boiled turkey, poultry, &c. 387 (a more simple recipe) 388 Soup 122 Stewed 1110 à la crême 1108 with white sauce 1109-10 To dress 1107 Various uses of 441, 1107 Vinegar 389 Champagne 1832 Cup 1832 Chanticleer and his companions 947 Chantilly soup 123 Char, the 243 Charlotte apple, very simple 1420 Aux pommes, an easy method of making 1418-19 Russe 1421 Cheese 1638 Cayenne 1642 Cream 1622 Damson 1536 Decomposed 1638 Fondue 1643 Brillat Savarin's 1644 General observations on 1620-2 Macaroni, as usually served with 1645-7 Mode of serving 1640 Pork 799 _Paragraph_ Pounded 1648 Raisin 1587 Ramakins, to serve with 1649-50 Sandwiches 1641 Scotch rarebit 1651 Smoking 1640 Stilton 1639 Toasted, or Scotch rarebit 1651 Welsh 1652 Cheesecakes, almond 1219 Apple 1226 Lemon 1292 Cherokee or store sauce 528 Cherries, dried 1527 Morello, to preserve 1561 To preserve in syrup 1529 Cherry, brandy 1526 Jam 1528 Sauce for sweet puddings 1357 Tart 1261 Tree in Rome 1561 Varieties of the 1261 Chervil, peculiarities of 129 Chestnut sauce, brown 391 for fowls or turkey 390 Spanish, soup 124 Uses of the 124 Chicken, boiled 938 Broth 1863 Curried 942 Cutlets 926 French 927 Fricasseed 945 Or fowl patties 928 pie 929 Potted 930 Pox, or glass-pox 2538-42 Salad 931 Chickens, age and flavour of 931 Chili vinegar 393 China chilo 712 Chocolate, box of 1502 Cream 1430 History of 1430 Soufflé 1427 To make 1807 Cholera, and autumnal complaints 2624 Christmas, cake 1754 Plum-pudding, very good 1328 Pudding, plain, for children 1327 Christopher North's sauce for game or meat 394 Chub, the 243 Churning 2365 Churns 2362 Cleaning the 2368 Cinnamon-tree, the 524 Citron, uses of the 1329 Varieties of the 1436 Claret cup 1831 Varieties of 1831 Cleanings, periodical 2326-9 Cleanliness, advantages of 2689 Clothes, cleaning 2239 Clove, derivation of the name 436 Tree 367 Coach-house and stables 2204 Coach-house and stables, furniture of the 2209 Harness-room 2208 Heat of stables 2205 Horse, the 2203 Stalls 2207 Ventilation of stables 2206 Coachman, carriages 2225-9 Choosing horses 2231 Driving 2232 Duties of the 2210 Pace of driving 2230 Whip, the 2233 Cock-a-Leekie 134 Cocoa and chocolate, various uses of 1807 To make 1816 Cocoa-nut, the 125 Cakes or biscuits 1740 Soup 125 Cod, fecundity of the 241 Food of the 237 Habitat of the 239 Method of preserving 233 Season for fishing for the 240 Sounds 234 Tribe, the 231 Codfish, the 231 A la Béchamel 239 créme 233 A l'Italienne 241 A la maitre d'hôtel 240 Curried 237 Head and shoulders of 232 to carve _p._ 174 Pie 235-6 Preserving 233 Salt, (commonly called salt fish) 233 Sounds 233 en poule 234 To choose 232 Coffee, Café au lait 1812 Café noir 1813 Essence of 1808 Miss Nightingale's opinion on 1865 Nutritious 1864 Plant 1811 Simple method of making 1811 To make 1810 To roast 1809 Cold-meat cookery:-- Beef, baked 598-9 bones, broiled 614 broiled, and mushroom sauce 612 oyster sauce 613 bubble-and-squeak 616 cake 610 curried 620 fried salt 625 fritters 627 hashed 628-9 minced 636 miriton of 637 olives 651 potted 613 ragoût 656 rissoles 615 rolls 647 sliced and broiled 664 stewed, and celery sauce 667 with oysters 668 Calf's head, a la maitre d'hôtel 864 fricasseed 863 hashed 878 Chicken, cutlets 927 or fowl patties 928 potted 930 salad 931 Duck, hashed 932 stewed and peas 935 turnips 937 wild, hashed 1020 ragoût of 1021 Fish, and oyster pie 257 cake 258 cod, à la Béchamel 239 à la crême 238 curried 237 pie 235-6 salmon, curried 305 scallop 350-1 turbot, à la crême 341 au gratin 342 fillets of, baked 339 à l'Italienne 340 Fowl, à la Mayonnaise 962 boudin, à la Reine 961 croquettes of 953-4 fricasseed 946 fried 947-8 hashed 955 Indian fashion 957 Indian dish of 959 minced 956 à la Béchamel 950 or chicken, curried 942 ragoût 951 scollops 658 sauté, with peas 960 Game, hashed 1023 Goose, hashed 967 Hare, broiled 1029 hashed 1030 Lamb, hashed, and broiled bladebone 749 Mutton, baked minced 703 broiled and tomato sauce 710 collops 731 curried 713 cutlets 714 dormers 715 haricot 718 hashed 719 hodge-podge 720 pie 733 ragoût of neck 736 toad in hole 743 Pork, cheese 796 cutlets 796 hashed 801 Turkey, croquettes of 987 fricasseed 988 hashed 989 Veal, baked 856 cake 859 collops, Scotch 870-1 curried 865 fillet of, au Béchamel 883 loin of, au Béchamel 887 minced 889-92 olive pie 895 patties, fried 896 ragout of 900 rissoles 901 rolis 902 tête de veau en tortue 911 Venison, hashed 1050 Cold, to cure a 2625 On the chest 2626 College pudding 1263 Collops, cooking 871 Scotch 870 Scotch white 871 Combs, to clean 2251 Compote of, Apples 1515 Apricots 1521 Damsons 1537 Figs, green 1541 Gooseberries 1515 Greengages 1551 Oranges 1565 Peaches 1572 Compotes, to make syrup for 1512 Confectionary, general observations on 1508 Consommé, or white stock for many sauces 395 Constructive notices 2699 Convulsions or fits 2519-22 Cook, duties of the cook, kitchen, and scullery-maids 79 Early rising 80 First duty of the 81 General directions to the 75 duties of the 82-4 Cookery, cleanliness of utensils used in 72 Excellence in the art of 78 Explanation of French terms used in 87 Introduction to 76 Measures used in 77 Copper 2659 Coriander plant, the 174 Corks, with wooden tops 446 Corrosive sublimate 2657 Cow, cheese 1652 Heel, fried 639 stock for jellies 1412 Pox, or vaccination 2543-6 or variola 906 Cows, cost of keep for 2370 Cowslip wine 1817 Crab, hot 245 Sauce, for fish 396 To dress 244 Tribe, the 245 Crape, to make old look like new 2277 Crayfish, the 246 Crayfish, how preserved 193 Potted 247 Soup 193 Cream, à la Valois 1422 Apricot 1405 Chocolate 1430 Devonshire 1630 Ginger 1432 Italian 1437 Lemon 1443 economical 1444 or custards 1446 very good 1445 Noyeau 1452 Orange, Seville 1464 sweet 1463 Peculiarities of 1385 Raspberry 1475 Sauce for fish or white dishes 397 Stone, of tous les mois 1483 Swiss 1485 To make ice fruit 1555 Vanilla 1490 Whipped 1492 Creams, general observations on 1385 Croquettes of, fowl 953-4 Rice 1477 Croup 2568 Symptoms of 2569 Treatment of 2570-3 Crumpets 1728 Crust, butter, for boiled puddings 1213 Common, for raised pies 1217 Dripping, for kitchen puddings and pies 1214 For fruit tarts, very good 1210 Lard or flead 1218 Pâté brisée, or French, for raised pies 1216 Short, common 1212 good 1211 Suet, for pies and puddings 1215 Cucumber, antiquity of the 127, 402 Chate 1114 Geographical distribution of the 1111 Indigestible 1152 Properties and uses of the 1113 Sauce 398 white 400 Soup 127 Vinegar (a very nice addition to salads) 491 Cucumbers, à la poulette 1112 Fried 1113 For winter use 402 Pickled 399 Preserving (an excellent way) 403 Stewed 1114 with onions 1115 To dress 1111 Curds and whey 1629 Currant, dumplings 1264 Fritters 1429 Jam, black 1530 red 1532 Jelly, black 1531 red 1533 white 1534 Pudding, black or red 1266 boiled 1265 Red, and raspberry tart 1267 Currants, iced 1558 Uses of 1266 Zante, description of 1264 Curry powder 449 Custard, apple, baked 1389 Boiled 1423 Creams, or lemon 1446 Pudding, baked 1268 boiled 1269 Sauce for sweet puddings or tarts 404 Tartlets, or Fanchonnettes 1315 Cutlets, chicken 926 French 927 Invalid's 1865 Lamb 747 Mutton 732 Italian 723 of cold 714 Pheasant 1040 Pork 796-8 Salmon 306 Sauce for 513 Veal 866 à la Maintenon 868 Cygnet, the 998 Dace, the 243 Dairy, the 2358 Butter, colouring of 2366 milk 2368 washing 2367 Churning 2365 Churns 2362 Cleaning the churn, &c. 2368 Cows, cost of keep for 2370 Devonshire system 2369 Hair sieve 2360 Maid, charge of dairy produce 2371 duties of the 2357 Milk, dishes 2361 general management of 2364 pails 2359 Situation of the 2363 Dampfnudeln, or German puddings 1280 Damson, the 1270 A very nice preserve 1539 Cheese 1536 Jam 1538 Pudding 1271 Tart 1270 Damsons, baked for winter use 1535 Compote of 1537 To preserve, or any other kind of plums 1540 Darioles, à la vanille 1428 Date, the 1605 Debts 2755 Estate chargeable with 2748 Decanters, to clean 2198, 2336 Deer, the 1049 Fallow 1050 Roebuck 1051 Deer, stag 1051 Delhi pudding 1272 Dentition 2509 Dessert, biscuits 1742 Dishes 1598 general remarks on 1509 Devonshire, cream 1630 Junket 1631 Diarrhoea 2574-7 Dilapidations 2718 Dinners, and dining 1879-86 A la Russe 2137-8 menu p. 955 Bills of fare for, from 6 to 18 persons, from January to December _pp._ 909-52 Bills of fare for game, for 30 persons _p_. 953 Bills of fare for plain family _pp._ 913, 917, 921, 925, 929, 933, 936, 939, 942, 945, 948, 952 Diseases of infancy and childhood 2509-77 Dishes, a hundred different 434 Domestics, general remarks on 2153-6 Dormers 715 Downs, the 725 Draught, for summer 1837 Dress and dressing of infants 2491-6 Drink for warm weather, pleasant 1836 Dripping, to clarify 621-2 Driving 2232-3 Drowning, treatment after 2676 Duck, the 932 American mode of capturing the 936 Aylesbury 935 Bow-bill 936 Buenos Ayres 933 Eggs of the 934, 1658 Fattening 936 Hashed 932 Hatching 935 Man and dog, decoy 937 Roast 934 to carve a 999 Rouen 934 Snares in Lincolnshire 937 Stewed, and peas 935-6 and turnips 937 To ragoût a whole 933 Varieties of the 933 Wild, the 934, 937, 1022 hashed 1020 ragoût of 1021 roast 1022 to carve a 1055 Ducklings, cooping and feeding 935 Dumplings, baked apple 1225 Boiled apple 1227 Currant 1264 Lemon 1294 Marrow 1306 Sussex, or hard 1376 Yeast 1383 Dusting 2313 Dutch flummery 1426 Sauce, for fish 405 Green, or Hollandaise verte 406 Eel, broth 1866 Haunts of the 254 Pie 253 Productiveness of the 252 Soup 194 Tenacity of life of the 256 The common 250 Tribe, the 249 Voracity of the 253 Eels, à la Tartare 255 Boiled 249 Collared 254 En matelote 256 Fried 252 Stewed 250-1 Egg, balls for soups and made dishes 408 Sauce for salt fish 409 Soup 128 Wine 1867 Eggs, à la maitre d'hôtel 1660 A la tripe 1667 Boiled for breakfast, salads, &c. 1656 Buttered 1657 Ducks' 1658 For hatching 927-28 Fried 1659 General remarks on 1623-6 Liaison of, for thickening sauces 461 Oeufs au plat, or au miroir 1661 Plovers' 1662 Poached 1663 with cream 1664 Primitive method of cooking 1658 Quality of 1654-5 Scotch 1666 Snow, or oeufs à la neige 1482 To choose 1654 keep fresh for several weeks 1655 pickle 407 Veneration for 1659 White of 1387 Will crack if dropped in boiling water 1656 Elderberry wine 1818 Emetic, tartar 2660 Empress pudding 1273 Endive, à la Française 1118 Genus of 1116 Plant 169 Stewed 1117 To dress 1116 Entrée, beef or rump steak, stewed 666 Beef, minced collops 619 Boudin à la reine 961 Calf's head, fricasseed 863 liver, larded and roasted 882 Chicken and rice croquettes 953-4 cutlets 926 or fowl, fricasseed 945 Fowl, hashed 955 sauté with peas 960 Lamb, cutlets 747 sweetbreads and asparagus 757 another way to dress 758 Lark pie 971 Lobster-curry 274 Entrée, lobster cutlets 275 patties 277 Oyster patties 289 Sweetbreads, baked 906 fried 907 stewed 908 Veal cutlets 866 à la Maintenon 868 broiled 867 collops 879 fricandeau of 874-5 tendons de veau 909-10 tête de veau 911 Vol au vent 1379 Epaulettes of gold or silver 2287 Epicurean sauce 410 Espagnole, or brown Spanish sauce 411 Everton toffee 1597 Exeter pudding 1274 Eye, lime in the 2629 Sore 2628 Stye in the 2630 Substances in the 2627 Eyelids, inflammation of the 2631 Fairy butter 1636 Fanchonnettes, or custard tartlets 1315 Fasting 2632 Feathers 2284 Fennel 412 Sauce for mackerel 412 Fig pudding 1275 Figs, green, compote of 1541 Fish, addendum and anecdote of _p_. 173 And oyster pie 257 As an article of human food 211-18 Average prices 226 Cake 258 General directions for carving _p._.174-6 dressing 219-25 rule in choosing 226 In season January to December _pp_. 33-7 Kettle 338 Pie with tench and eels 349 Sauce 413, 512 Scallop 350-1 Soup 192 Stock 192 Supply of, for the London market 353 To smoke at home 820 Fishes, natural history of 199-210 Fits 2633 Apoplexy 2634-6 and drunkenness, distinctions between 2638 epilepsy, distinctions between 2637 hysterics distinctions between 2639 poisoning by opium, distinctions between 2640 Epilepsy 2641 Fainting 2642 Hysterics 2643 The consequence of dentition 2519-22 Fixtures 2713 Fleece, the golden 715 Floorcloth, to clean 2335 Flounder, the 259 Flounders, boiled 259 Fried 260 Flour, nutritious qualities of 1218 Flowers, to preserve cut 2289 after packing 2290 Flummery, Dutch 1426 Fomentations 2602-3 Fondue, Brillat Savarin's 1644 To make 1643 Food for infants, and its preparation 2499, 2508 Footgear 2245 Footman, boot-cleaning 2174 Boot tops 2176 Breakfast, laying cloth, &c. 2181-3 Brushing clothes 2180 Decanters 2198 Dinner 2185-6 Dinners à la Russe 2188 Dress and livery 2172 During dinner 2191 Early rising 2173 Furniture-rubbing 2179 General duties 2171 Glass-washing 2197-8 Going out with the carriage 2190 Knives 2177 Lamp-trimming 2178 Letters and messages 2200 Luncheon, duties at 2184 Management of work 2196 Manners, modesty, &c. 2190 Opening wine 2192 Pantry 2195 Patent leather boots 2175 Politeness 2201 Receptions and evening parties 2202 Removal of dishes 2193 Salt-cellars 2187 Tea 2194 Waiting at table 2189 Where a valet is not kept 2182 Forcemeat, balls for fish soups 414 Boiled calf's udder for French 421 For baked pike 413 cold savoury pies 415 various kinds of fish 416 veal, turkeys, fowls, hare, &c. 417 French 419-20 Or quenelles, for turtle soup, Soyer's receipt for 423 Oyster 489 Fowl, à la Mayonnaise 962 And rice croquettes 953 Boiled 938 à la Béchamel 943 to carve 1000 with oysters 944 rice 940 Boudin à la reine 961 Broiled and mushroom sauce 939 Croquettes 954 Curried 941-2 Fricasseed 945-6 Fried 947-8 Hashed 955 an Indian dish 957 House, the 944 stocking the 945 Indian dish of 950 Minced 956 à la Béchamel 950 Pillau 963 Poulet aux cressons 964 à la Marengo 949 Ragoût of 951 Roast 952 stuffed 965 to carve a 1001 Sauté, with peas 960 Scallops 958 To bone for fricassees 995 Fowls, à la Marengo 949 As food 926 Bantam 939 feather-legged 958 Best to fatten 951 way to fatten 948 Black Spanish 962 Characteristics of health and power 946 Chip in 953 Cochin China 942 Common, or domestic 926 Diseases of, and how to cure 952 Dorking 940 Eggs for hatching 927 Feeding and cooping 930 Game 938 Guinea 970 Hatching 928 Moulting season, the 956 Obstruction of the crop 955 Pencilled Hamburg 965 Poland 941 Scour, or Dysentery in 957 Serai Ta-ook, or fowls of the Sultan 963 Sir John Sebright's bantams 961 Sitting 927 Skin disease in 955 Space for 943 Speckled Hamburg 959 "Turn" in 954 Various modes of fattening 948 Young 929 Freezing apparatus, method of working the 1290 French terms used in cookery 87 Fritters, apple 1393 Beef 627 Bread-and-butter 1410 Currant 1429 Indian 1435 Orange 1465 Peach 1469 Pineapple 1472 Plain 1473 Potato 1474 Rice 1478 Fruit, dish of mixed 1601 summer 1604 Fresh to bottle 1542-3 Ice creams, to make 1555 In season, January to December _pp._ 33-7 Spots, to remove 2270 To bottle with sugar 1544 Turnovers 1278 Water ices, to make 1556 Fuel 73 Fungi, analysis of 1128 Varieties of 1124 Furniture cleaning 2307, 2313 Gloss, German 2339 Polish 2308-9 Furs, feathers, and woollens 2284 Game, general observations on 1006-18 Hashed 1023 In season, January to December _pp._ 33-7 Garlic 392 Geneva wafers 1431 Genevese sauce 427 German pudding 1279 or Dampfnudeln 1280 Gherkins, or young cucumbers 428 Pickled 428 Giblet pie 965 Soup 168 Gilt frames, to brighten 2337 Ginger, apples 1424 Beer 1833 Cream 1432 Preserved 1432 Pudding 1281 Qualities of 407 Wine 1819 Gingerbread, nuts, rich sweetmeat 1759 Sunderland 1761 Thick 1769 White 1762 Glaize, cold joints to 430 For covering cold hams, tongues, &c 430 Kettle 430 Godfrey's cordial 2663 Golden fleece, order of the 708, 715 Pudding 1282 Goose, Brent 966 Description of the 968 Egyptian 969 Hashed 967 Roast 968 to carve a 1002 Stuffing for (Soyer's) 505 To dress a green 969 Wild 967 Gooseberries, compote of 1546 Gooseberry, the 1285 Fool 1433 Indigenous to British isles 429 Jam 1547-8 white or green 1549 Jelly 1550 Pudding, baked 1283 Gooseberry pudding, boiled 1284 Sauce for boiled mackerel 429 Tart 1285 Trifle 1434 Vinegar 1820 Wine, effervescing 1821 Grapes, qualities of 1601 Grates 2298, 2299, 2338 Gravy, a quickly-made 434 Beef, for poultry or game (good) 435 Brown 436 without meat 437 Cheap, for minced veal 443 hashes 440 For roast meat 433 venison 444 General stock for 432 Jugged, excellent 441 Kettle 432 Made without meat, for fowls 439 Orange 488 Rich, for hashes and ragouts 438 Roux, for thickening brown 525 white 526 Soup 169 Veal, for white sauces, fricassees 442 Greengage jam 1552 Greengages, compote of 1551 To preserve dry 1553 in syrup 1554 Green sauce 431 Greens, boiled, turnip 1169 Turnip-tops, and cabbage 1169 Groom, bridles 2218 Cleaning fawn or yellow leather 2223 Duties of the 2211 Exercising the horses 2213 Feeding the horses 2214-15 Harness 2219 cleaning old 2221-2 paste 2220 Shoeing 2217 Watering horses 2212, 2216 Wheel-grease 2224 Grouse, description of the 1625-26 Pie 1024 Roast 1025 Salad 1026 To carve a 1058 Gruel, barley 1836 To make 1868 Gudgeon, the 261 Habitat of the 261 Guinea-fowl, description of the 970 Roast 970 Guinea-pig, the 997 Gurnet, the 262 To dress 262 Haddock, habitat of the 263 Finnan 266 Weight of the 264 Haddocks, baked 263 Boiled 264 Dried 265-6 Hair-dressing 2248-9 Hair, pomade for 2253-4 To promote growth of 2257 Wash for 2252 Ham, fried and eggs 843 Omelet 1457 Potted 814-5 To bake a 810 boil a 811 carve a 843 give it an excellent flavour 812 glaize 430 Hams, curing of 822 For curing 816 To cure in the Devonshire way 821 sweet, in the Westmoreland way 818 pickle 819 salt two 817 smoke at home 820 Hare, broiled 1029 Extreme timidity of the 1027 Hashed 1030 Jugged 1031-2 Potted 1028 Roast 1027 Soup 170 To carve a 1056 The common 170 Haricot, beans, and minced onions 1121 Blancs à la maître d'hôtel 1120 Mutton 716-17-18 To boil blancs, or white haricot beans 1119 Harness, cleaning old 2221-2 Paste 2220 Room, the 2208 Heart, palpitation of the 2646 Henbane, hemlock, nightshade, and foxglove 2664 Herbs, to dry for winter use 445 Powder of, for flavouring 446 Sweet 417 Heradotus pudding 1287 Herring, the 268 Red 267 Herrings, baked, white 268 Red, or Yarmouth bleaters 267 To choose 268 Hessian soup 171 Hidden mountain, the 1438 Hodge-podge 191, 720 Hog, antiquity of the 826, 834 Fossil remains of the 829 General observations on the common 765-95 In England 837 Not bacon 807 Universality of the 833 Wild and domestic 823 Holly leaves, to frost 1545 Honey cake 1758 Hooping cough 2468, 2564 Symptoms of 2565 Treatment of 2566-7 Horse, the 2203 Horses, choosing 2231 Exercising 2213 Horses feeding 2224-15 Watering 2212, 2216 Horseradish, the 447 Medical properties of the 1122 Sauce 447 Vinegar 448 Hot spice 524 Housekeeper, daily duties of the 58-61 General duties of the 55 Knowledge of cookery 57 Necessary qualifications for a 56 Housemaid, bedroom, attention to 2306, 2323-4 Bright grates 2298 Candlestick and lamp-cleaning 2330 Carpet-sweeping 2312 Chips broken off furniture 2330 Cleanings, periodical 2326-9 Dress of the 2319 Dusting 2313 Duties after dinner 2321 evening 2322 general 2292-4 Fire-lighting 2296-7 Furniture-cleaning 2307, 2313 General directions to the 2300-5 Hartshorn, for plate-cleaning 2316 Laying dinner-table 2314-5 Marble, to clean 2333-4 Needlework 2325 Plate, to clean 2317 rags for daily use 2318 Upper and under 2291 Waiting at table 2320 Recipe, Brunswick black, to make 2295 cement for joining broken glass or china 2331-2 decanters, to clean 2336 floorcloth, to clean 2335 furniture gloss, German 2339 paste 2310 polish 2308-9 gilt frames, to brighten 2337 grates and fire irons, to preserve from rust 2338 polish for bright grates 2299 Hunter's pudding 1288 Husband and wife 2725-9 Hysterics 2643 Ice, fruit creams, to make 1555 Lemon-water 1557 To ice, or glaze pastry 1334 Iced, apple pudding 1290 Apples, or apple hedgehog 1394 Currants 1558 Oranges 1564 Pudding 1289 Ices, fruit-water, to make 1556 General observations on 1510-11 Icing, for cakes, almond 1735 sugar 1736 Indian, Chetney sauce 452 Corn-flour bread 1721 Curry powder 449 Fritters 1435 Mustard 450 Pickle 451 Trifle 1436 Infant, the 2460-2577 Ink-spots, to remove 2271 Invalid cookery, rules to be observed in 1841-54 Invalid's cutlet, the 1865 Jelly 1869 Lemonade 1870 Insurance 2708-10 I. O. U., the 2723 Irish stew 721-2 Ironing 2282, 2393-6 Isinglass 1413 Italian, cream 1437 Mutton cutlets 723 Rusks 1733 Sauce, brown 453 white 451 Jam, apple 1517 Apricot, or marmalade 1522 Carrot 1525 Cherry 1528 Currant, black 1530 red 1538 Damson 1538 Gooseberry 1547-8 white or green 1549 Greengage 1552 Omelet 1460 Plum 1580 Raspberry 1588 Rhubarb 1590 and orange 1591 Roly pudding 1291 Strawberry 1594 Jaunemange 1439 Jelly, apple 1518-19 clear 1396 thick, or marmalade 1395 Bag, how to make 1411 Bottled, how to mould 1414 Calf's foot 1416 Cow-heel, stock for 1412 Currant, black 1531 red 1533 white 1534 General observations on 1386 Gooseberry 1550 Invalid's 1869 Isinglass or gelatine 1413 Lemon 1447 Liqueur 1449 Moulded with fresh fruit 1440 with slices of orange 1455 Of two colours 1441 Open with whipped cream 1453 Orange 1454 Quince 1585 Raspberry 1589 Savoury, for meat pies 521 Stock for, and to clarify it 1411 Strawberry 1484 To clarify syrup for 1415 Jewels 2286 John dory, the 248 To dress the 248 Joints, injuries to 2616 Julienne, soup á la 191 Junket, Devonshire 1631 Kale brose 132 Kegeree 269 Ketchup, mushroom 472 Oyster 490 Walnut 535-6 Kettles for fish 338 Kidney and beefsteak pudding 605 Omelet 1458 Kidneys, broiled 724 Fried 725 Kitchen, distribution of a 62 Essential requirements of the 70 Fuel for the 73 Ranges 65-6 Maid, duties of the 85 Necessity for cleanliness 72 Scullery maid, duties of the 86 Utensils, ancient and modern 69 list of for the 71 Kitchens of the Middle Ages 62 Knives 2177 Kohl Rabi, or turnip-cabbage 1095 Lace collars, to clean 2266 Lady's maid, arranging the dressing room 2246-7 Attention to bonnets 2244 Chausserie, or foot-gear 2245 Dressing, remarks on 2258-9 Duties of the 2213, 2260-2 when from home 2280 evening 2281 Epaulettes of gold or silver 2287 Fashions, repairs, &c 2263 Hairdressing 2248 lessons in 2249 Ironing 2282 Jewels 2286 Linen, attention to 2278 Packing 2279 Rules of conduct 2288 Recipe, bandoline, to make 2255 Blonde, to clean 2265 Brushes, to wash 2250 Combs, to clean 2251 Crape, to make old look like new 2277 Essence of lemon, use of 2274 Flowers, to preserve cut 2289 to revive after packing 2290 Fruit-spots, to remove 2270 Furs, feathers, and woollens 2284 Grease-spots from cotton or woollen materials, to remove 2268 from silks or moires, to remove 2269 Hair, a good pomade for the 2253-4 Hair, a good wash for the 2253 to promote the growth of 2257 Lace collars, to clean 2266 Moths, preservatives against the ravages of 2285 Paint, to remove from silk cloth 2276 Pomatum, an excellent 2256 Ribbons or silk, to clean 2275 Scorched linen to restore 2283 Stains of syrup or preserved fruit, to remove 2273 To remove ink-spots 2271 Wax, to remove 2272 Lamb, as a sacrifice 744 Breast of, and green peas 744 stewed 745 Carving 761 Chops 746 Cutlets and spinach 747 Fore quarter, to carve a 764 to roast a 750 Fry 748 General observations on the 698-702 Hashed and broiled blade-bone of 749 Leg of, boiled 751 roast 752 Loin of, braised 753 Saddle of 754 Shoulder of 755 stuffed 756 Lamb's sweetbreads, larded 757 another way to dress 758 Lambswool, or lamasool 1227 Lamp-cleaning 2178,2311 Lamprey, the 256 Landlord and tenant, relations of 2700 Landrail or corn-crake 1033 Roast 1033 To carve 1063 Lard, to melt 625 Larding 828 Lark-pie 971 Larks, roast 972 Laundry, situation of, and necessary apparatus 2373-4 Maid, cleaning and washing utensils 2386 General duties of the 2372 Ironing 2393-6 Mangling and ironing 2387-9 Rinsing 2379 Soaking linen 2376 Sorting linen 2375 Starch, to make 2391-2 Starching 2390 Washing 2377-8 coloured muslins, &c 2380 flannels 2381 greasy cloths 2382 satin and silk ribbons 2384 silk handkerchiefs 2383 silks 2385 Laurel, or bay 180 Law, general remarks on 2694 Lead, and its preparations 2661 Leamington sauce 459 Lease, breaks in the 2711 Leases, general remarks on 2702-4 Leek, badge of the Welsh 134 Soup 133 Legacies 2751-4 Bequests, &c 2744-9 Legal memoranda 2694-2751 Lemon, anti venomous 455 Biscuits 1743 Blancmange 1442 Brandy 460 Cake 1764 Cheesecakes 1292 Cream 1443 (economical) 1444 Creams 1445 or custards 1446 Dumplings 1294 Essence of 2274 Fruit of the 405 Jelly 1447 Juice of the 456 Mincemeat 1293 Pudding, baked 1295-7 boiled 1298 plain 1299 Rind or peel 460 Sauce for boiled fowls 457 for sweet puddings 1358 Sponge 1448 Syrup 1822 Thyme 458 To pickle with the peel on 455 without the peel 456 Water ice 1557 White sauce for fowls or fricassees 458 Uses of the 1296 Wine 1823 Lemonade 1834 For invalids 1870 Most harmless of acids 1834 Nourishing 1871 Lentil, the 126 Lettuce, corrective properties of the 136 Varieties of the 1123 Lettuces, to dress 1123 Leveret, to dress a 1034 Liaison 461 Lightning, treatment after a person has been struck by 2677 Linen, attention to 2278 Scorched, to restore 2283 Soaking 2376 Sorting 2375 Liqueur Jelly 1449 Liver, and lemon sauce for poultry 462 And parsley sauce for poultry 463 Complaints and spasms 2644 Lobster, the 270 A la mode Française 273 Ancient mode of cooking the 275 Celerity of the 273 Curry (an entrée) 274 Cutlets (an entrée) 275 Hot 271 How it feeds 278 Local attachment of the 277 Patties (an entrée) 277 Potted 278 Salad 272 Sauce 464 Shell of the 272 Soup 195 To boil 270 To dress 276 Lumbago 2645 Luncheon cake 1765 Luncheons and suppers 2147-48 Lungs, respiration of 2453-6 Macaroni, as usually served with cheese course 1645-7 Manufacture of 135, 1301 Pudding, sweet 1301 Soup 135 Sweet dish of 1450 Macaroons 1744 Mace 371 Macedoine de fruits 1440 Mackerel, the 281 Baked 279 Boiled 280 Broiled 281 Fillets of 282 Garum 283 Pickled 283 To choose 281 Weight of the 279 Voracity of the 282 Maid-of-all-work, after breakfast 2344 dinner 2350-1 Bedrooms, attention to 2352 daily work in 2345 Before retiring to bed 2354 Breakfast, preparation for 2343 Cleaning hall 2342 Cooking dinner 2346 Early morning duties 2341 General duties 2340 routine 2353 Knife-cleaning 2351 Laying dinner-cloth 2347 Needlework, time for 2356 Waiting at table 2348-9 Washing 2355 Maigre, soup 136 Maître d'hôtel 465 butter 465 sauce (hot) 466 Maize 1721 Cobbett a cultivator of 1174 Or Indian wheat, boiled 1174 Malt wine 1824 Manchester pudding 1300 Mangling and ironing 2387-9 Mango chetney, Bengal recipe for making 392 Manna kroup pudding 1302 Qualities of 1302 Mansfield pudding 1303 Marble, to clean 2333-4 Marjoram, species of 173, 415 Marlborough pudding 1304 Marmalade, and vermicelli pudding 1305 Of Apricots 1522 Orange 1566-7 an easy way of making 1568 made with honey 1569 Quince 1586 Marrow, bones 635 Boiled 635 Dumplings 1306 Pudding, boiled or baked 1307 Mayonnaise 468 Measles 2547-59 Meat, action of salt on 607 Bad 605 Baking 665 Good 602 In season, January to December _pp_ 33-7 Modes of cooking 540-84 Pies, savoury jelly for 521 To buy economically 726 Meats, preserved 643 Medical memoranda 2689-93 Melon, description of the 1559 Introduced into England 1115 Uses of the 1559 Melons 1569 Meringues 1451 Military puddings 1308 Milk, and cream, separation of 1627 to keep in hot weather 1628 And suckling 2472-90 Excellence of 1627 General observations on 1608-14 Or cream, substitute for 1815 Qualities of 1628 Soup 137 Millet, Italian 1718 Pannicled 1733 Mince pies 1311 Minced collops 619 Mincemeat, to make 1309 Excellent 1310 Lemon 1293 Mint 469 Sauce 469 Vinegar 470 Mistress, after-dinner invitations 39 Charity and benevolence, duties of 14 Choice of acquaintances 6 Cleanliness indispensable to health 4 Conversation, trifling occurrences 9 Daily duties 22-6 Departure of guests 45-6 Dessert 37-8 Dinner announced 35 Domestics, engaging 17 giving characters to 20 obtaining 18 treatment of 19 yearly wages, table of 21 Mistress, dress and fashion 11 of the 13 Early rising 3 Etiquette of evening parties 40-3 the ball room 44 Evenings at home 48 Family dinner at home 47 Friendships should not be hastily formed 7 Good temper, cultivation of 10 Guests at dinner-table 36 Half-hour before dinner 34 Home virtues 5 Hospitality, excellence of 8 Household duties 1-2 House-hunting, locality, aspect, ventilation, rent 54 Housekeeping account-book 16 Introductions 51 Invitations for dinner 33 Letters of introduction 52-3 Marketing 15 Morning calls and visits 27-32 Purchasing of wearing apparel 12 Retiring for the night 49 Mock-turtle soup 172-3 Morello cherries, to preserve 1561 Moths, preservatives against 2285 Muffins 1727 Mulberries, preserved 1360 Mulberry, description of the 1360 Mullagatawny soup 174 Mullet, grey 284 Red 285 Muriatic acid 2651 Mushroom, the cultivated 473 Growth of the 476 How to distinguish the 472 Ketchup 472 Localities of the 1126 Nature of the 478 Powder 477 Sauce, brown 474 very rich and good 479 white 475-6 Varieties of the 1125 Mushrooms, baked 1124 Broiled 1125 Pickled 478 Stewed 1127 in gravy 1128 To dry 473 preserve 1126 procure 1127 Mustard 480 How to mix 480 Indian 480 Tartar 481 Mutton, baked minced 703 Breast of, boiled 704 (excellent way to cook a) 709 Broiled, and tomato sauce 710 Broth, quickly made 1873 to make 1872 Carving 759-63 China chilo 712 Mutton, chops, broiled 711 Collops 731 Curried 713 Cutlets, of cold 714 Italian 723 with mashed potatoes 732 Dormers 715 Fillet of, braised 707 Haricot 716-18 Hashed 719 Haunch of, roast 726 to carve a 759 Hodge-podge 720 Irish stew 721-2 Kidney, broiled 724 fried 725 Leg of, boiled 705 boned and stuffed 706 braised 708 roast 727 to carve a 760 Loin of, to carve a 761 roast 728 rolled 729 Neck of, boiled 730 ragoût of 736 roast 737 Pie 733-4 Pudding 735 Qualities of various 707 Saddle of, roast 738 to carve a 762 Shoulder of, roast 739 to carve a 763 Soup, good 175 Nasturtium, uses of the 482 Nasturtiums, pickled 482 Nature and art in nursing 2445-2452 Navet, description of the 1168 Nectar, Welsh 1830 Nectarines, preserved 1562 Needlework 2325 Negus, to make 1835 Nesselrode pudding 1313 Nitric acid 2650 Normandy pippins, stewed 1563 Notice to quit 2716 Noxious trades 2712 Noyeau cream 1452 Homemade 1825 Nurse, attention to children's dispositions 2401 Carrying an infant 2398 Convulsion fits 2406 Croup 2407 Dentition 2405 General duties of the 2402-4 Habits of cleanliness in children 2400 Hooping-cough 2408 Measles and scarlatina 2410-12 Miss Nightingale's remarks on children 2414-5 Worms 2409 Nursemaids, upper and under 2397 Nurse, Monthly, age of 2431 Nurse, Monthly, attention to cleanliness in the patient's room 2433 Choice of a 2429 Doctor's instructions must be observed 2430 General duties of the 2432 Infant must not be exposed to light or cold too early 2434 Nurse, Sick, airing the bed 2425 Attention to food 2427 Bad smells must be removed 2422 Cleanliness, necessity of 2421 Diet suitable to the patient's taste 2428 Duties of the 2416 Necessity for pure air in the sick-room 2417 Night air injurious, a fallacy 2426 Opening of windows and doors 2418-9 Patient must not be waked 2424 Quiet in the patient's room 2423 Ventilation necessary in febrile cases 2402 Nurse, Wet, abstinence from improper food 2411 Age of the 2439 Diet of the 2442 General remarks on the 2435-8 Health and morality of the 2440 Spirits, wines, and narcotics to be avoided 2443 Nutmeg, the 378 Nuts, dish of 1599 hazel and filbert 1599 Olive and olive oil 506 Omelet, au Thon 1494 Aux confitures, or jam omelet 1460 Bachelor's 1462 Ham 1457 Kidney 1458 Plain, sweet 1459 Soufflé 1461 The Cure's p. 753 To make a plain 1456 Onion before the Christian era 139 History of the 485 Origin of the 1131 Properties of the 1130 Sauce, brown 485 or Soubise, French 483 white 484 Soup 138-9 Onions, burnt, for gravies 1130 Pickled 486-7 Spanish, baked 1129 pickled 527 stewed 1131 Open jam tart 1365 Opium and its preparations 2662 Orange, and cloves 1565 Brandy 1826 Cream 1463-4 Fritters 1465 Gravy 483 In Portugal, the 1565 Jelly 1454 Orange, jelly, moulded with slices of orange 1455 Marmalade 1566-7 an easy way of making 1568 made with honey 1569 Pudding, baked 1314 Salad 1571 Seville 1464 Tree, the first in France 1564 Uses of the 1314 Wine 1827 Oranges, a pretty dish of 1466 Compote of 1565 Iced 1564 To preserve 1570 Ox, the 176 Cheek, soup 176 stewed 638 Feet, or cowheel, fried 639 Tail, broiled 652 soup 177 Tails, stewed 610 Oxalic acid 2652 Oyster, and scallop 288 Excellence of the English 291 Fishery 289 Forcemeat 489 Ketchup 490 Patties 289 Sauce 492 Season 197 Soup 196-7 The edible 286 Oysters, fried 286 in batter 291 Pickled 491 Scalloped 287 Stewed 288 To keep 290 Paint, to remove from silk cloth 2276 Pan kail 140 Panada 420 Pancakes, French 1425 Richer 1468 To make 1467 Parsley, and butter 493 Fried 494 How used by the ancients 123, 493 Juice (for colouring various dishes) 495 To preserve through the winter 496 Parsnip, description of the 141, 1132 Soup 141 Parsnips, to boil 1132 Partridge, the 178,1039 Broiled 1035 Hashed, or salmi de perdrix 1038 Pie 1036 Potted 1037 Roast 1039 Soup 178 To carve a 1057 Paste, almond 1220 Common, for family pies 1207 French puff, or feuilletage 1208 Paste, medium puff 1206 Soyer's recipe for puff 1209 Very good puff 1205 Pastry, and puddings, general observations on 1175-9 Ramakins to serve with cheese course 1650 Sandwiches 1318 To ice or glaze 1334-5 Patties, chicken or fowl 928 Fried 896 Lobster 227 Oyster 289 Pavini cake 1771 Pea, origin of the 1133 Soup 144 green 142 winter, yellow 143 Sweet and heath or wood 1135 Varieties of the 143, 1134 Peas, green 1133 à la Française 1134 stewed 1135 Peach, and nectarine 1572 Description of the 1469 Fritters 1469 Peaches, compote of 1572 Preserved in brandy 1573 Pear 1574 Bon Chrétien 1576 Pears, à l'Allemande 1470 Baked 1574 Moulded 1471 Preserved 1575 Stewed 1576 Pepper, black 369 Long 399 Plant, growth of the 516 White 366 Perch, the 292 Boiled 292 Fried 293 Stewed with wine 294 Pestle and Mortar 421 Petites bouches 1319 Pheasant, the 1041 Broiled 1043 Cutlets 1040 Height of excellence in the 1043 Roast 1041 Brillat Savarin's recipe for 1042 Soup 179 To carve a 1059 Pickle, an excellent 497 Beetroot, to 369 Capsicums, to 385 Cucumbers, to 399 For tongues or beef 611 Gherkins, to 428 Indian (very superior) 451 Lemons, to 456 with the peel on 455 Mixed 471 Mushrooms, to 478 Nasturtiums, to 482 Onions, to 486-7 Spanish, to 527 Oysters, to 491 Red cabbage, to 493 Universal 533 Walnuts, to 534 Pickles of the Greeks and Romans 452 Keeping 451 Pie, apple, or tart 1233 Beef-steak 604 Chicken or fowl 929 Eel 253 Fish and oyster 257 Giblet 966 Grouse 1024 Lark 971 Mince 1311 Mutton 733-4 Partridge 1036 Pigeon 975 Pork, raised 835 little 836 Poultry or game, raised 1340 Rabbit 981 Sole or cod 322 Tench and eel 349 Veal 897 and ham 898 raised 1341 olive 895 Pig, Guinea 997 How roast pig was discovered 841 to silence a 812 Novel way of recovering a stolen 819 Sucking, to carve a 842 roast 841 to scald 840 The learned 840 Pig's cheeks, to dry 830 Face, collared 823 Fry, to dress 824 Liver 831 Pettitocs 832 Pigs, Austrian mode of herding 796 English mode of hunting and Indian sticking 800 How pastured and fed formerly 805 Pigeon, the 974 Barb 976 Breeding 974 Carrier 974 Fantail 976 House or dovecot, aspect of 974 Jacobin 976 Necessity of cleanliness in the 974 Nun 975 Owl 976 Pie 975 Pouter 973 Rock 976 Runt 975 To carve a 1003 Trumpeter 975 Tumbler 975 Turbit 976 Wood or wild 975 Pigeons, broiled 973 Roast 974 Stewed 970 Pike, the 293 Baked 296 Boiled 295 Pineapple 1472, 1478 Chips 1577 Fritters 1472 In Heathendom 1578 Preserved 1578 for present use 1579 Pippins, stewed, Normandy 1563 Plaice, the 298 Fried 297 Stewed 298 Plate-cleaning 2317-18 Plover, description of the 1044 To carve a 1066 dress a 1044 Plovers' eggs 1626 Plum, an excellent pudding 1325 Cake, common 1768 nice 1769 Jam 1580 Pudding, baked 1324 Pudding sauce 499 Tart 1331 Plums 1330 French, box of 1600 stewed 1583 Cultivation of 1582 Origin of the names of 1580 Preserved 1581 To preserve dry 1582 Poisonous food 2665 Mushrooms 2666 Poisons 2647 Calomel 2658 Copper 2659 Emetic tartar 2656 Lead, and its preparations 2661 Opium and its preparations 2662 Symptoms of having inhaled strong fumes of smelling salts 2655 swallowed 2618 alkalis 2654 arsenic 2656 corrosive sublimate 2657 muriatic acid 2651 nitric acid 2650 oxalic acid 2652 prussic acid 2653 sulphuric acid 2649 Syrup of poppies and Godfrey's cordial 2663 Treatment after taking henbane hemlock, nightshade, or foxglove 2664 Polish tartlets 1320 Pomatum, an excellent 2256 Pork, carving 842 Cheese 799 Cutlets 796 Cutlets or chops 797-8 Griskin of, roast 827 Hashed 801 Leg of, boiled 826 roast 800 to carve a 844 Loin of, roast 829 Pickled, to boil 834 Pies 835 little, raised 836 Sausages, to make 837 To pickle 833 Portable soup 180 Potato, the 147 Analysis of 1138 As an article of food 1148 Bread 1141 Fritters 1474 Patty 1332 Properties of the 1137 Pudding 1333 Qualities of the 1147 Rissoles 1147 Salad 1154 Snow 1148 Soup 145-6-7 Starch 1139 Sugar 1136 Uses of the 1140 Varieties of the 1146 Potatoes, à la maître d'hôtel 1144 Baked 1136 Fried, French fashion 1142 German way of cooking 1143 How to use cold 1141 Mashed 1145 Preserving 1143 Purée de pommes de terre 1146 To boil 1137 in their jackets 1138 new 1139 To steam 1140 Potted beef 642-3 Chicken or fowl 930 Ham 815 Hare 1028 Partridge 1037 Shrimps 312 Veal 899 Poulet, à la Marengo 949 Aux cressons 964 Poultry, in season, January to December _pp_. 33-7 Pound cake 1770 Pounded cheese 1648 Prawn, the 198 Soup 198 Prawns or shrimps, buttered 313 To boil 299 To dress 300 Prescriptions, general remarks on 2580 Blister, an ordinary 2598 Clyster 2582 Draught 2581 common black 2587 Drugs, list of, necessary to carry out all instructions 2579 Liniment 2583 Lotion 2584 Goulard 2585 Opodeldoc 2586 Mixtures, aperient 2588 fever 2589 Pills 2592 compound iron 2591 myrrh and aloes 2590 Poultice 2604 Abernethy's plan for making a bread-and-water 2595 linseed meal 2596 mustard 2597 Powders 2593 Preserved, and dried greengages 1553 Cherries in syrup 1529 Damsons 1539 or any other kind of plums 1540 Ginger 1432 Greengages in syrup 1554 Morello cherries 1561 Mulberries 1560 Nectarines 1562 Oranges 1570 Peaches in brandy 1573 Pineapple 1578 Plums 1581 Pumpkin 1584 Strawberries in wine 1595 whole 1596 Preserves, general observations on 1495, 1507 Primitive ages, simplicity of the 63-4 Prince of Wales soup 148 Property law 2696-8 Prussic acid 2653 Ptarmigan, or white grouse 1045 To carve a 1064 To dress a 1045 Pudding, Alma 1237 Almond, baked 1221 small 1222 Apple, baked, very good 1231 economical 1229 rich 1228 boiled 1232 iced 1290 rich sweet 1230 Apricot, baked 1238 Arrowroot, baked or boiled 1249 Asparagus 1089 Aunt Nelly's 1224 Bachelor's 1241 Bakewell 1242-3 Baroness 1244 Batter, baked 1246 with dried or fresh fruit 1247 boiled 1248 Beefsteak and kidney 605 baked 600 Bread, baked 1250 boiled 1252 brown 1253 Bread, miniature 1254 very plain 1251 Bread-and-butter, baked 1255 Cabinet, or chancellor's 1256 plain, or boiled bread-and-butter 1257 Canary 1258 Carrot, baked or boiled 1259 Christmas, for children, plain 1327 plum 1328 Cold 1262 College 1263 Currant, black or red 1266 boiled 1265 Custard, baked 1268 boiled 1269 Damson 1271 Delhi 1272 Empress 1273 Exeter 1274 Fig 1275 Staffordshire recipe 1276 Folkestone pudding pies 1277 German 1279 or Dampfnudeln 1280 Ginger 1281 Golden 1282 Gooseberry, baked 1283 boiled 1284 Half-pay 1286 Herodotus 1287 Hunter's 1288 Iced 1289 Lemon, baked 1295-7 boiled 1298 plain 1299 Macaroni, sweet 1301 Manchester 1300 Manna kroup 1302 Mansfield 1303 Marlborough 1304 Marmalade and vermicelli 1305 Marrow, boiled or baked 1307 Military 1308 Monday's 1312 Mutton 735 Nesselrode 1313 Orange, baked 1314 batter 1249 Paradise 1322 Pease 1323 Plum, an excellent 1325 baked 1324 fresh fruit 1330 Potato 1333 Pound, plum 1329 an unrivalled 1326 Quickly made 1366 Raisin, baked 1336 boiled 1337 Rhubarb, boiled 1338 Rice, baked 1342 more economical 1343 boiled with dried and fresh fruit 1345-6 French, or gâteau de riz 1352 ground, boiled or baked 1353 iced 1354 miniature 1355 plain, boiled 1344 Roly-poly jam 1291 Royal Coburg 1260 Sago 1367 Semolina, baked 1369 Somersetshire 1374 Suet, to serve with roast meat 1375 Tapioca 1370 Treacle, rolled 1372 Toad-in-the-hole 672 of cold meat 743 Vermicelli 1377 Vicarage 1378 West Indian 1382 Yorkshire 1384 Puddings and pastry, directions for making 1180, 1204 general observations on 1175-1179 Puits d'amour, or puff-paste rings 1321 Pumpkin, preserved 1584 Punch 1839 To make hot 1839 Purchasing a house 2695-98 Quadrupeds, general observations on 585, 597 Quail, description of the 1046 To carve a 1065 To dress a 1046 Queen-cakes 1773 Quenelles à tortue 189 Veal 422 Quince, the 1233 Jelly 1585 Marmalade 1586 Quin's sauce 500 Rabbit, à la minute 980 Angora 985 Boiled 977 Common wild 978 Curried 978 Fecundity of the 981 Fried 979 Habitat of the 977 Hare 985 Himalaya 985 House 982 Hutch 983 Pie 981 Ragoût of, or hare 982 Roast or baked 983 Soup 181 Stewed 984 in milk 1874 larded 985 To carve a 1004 Varieties of the 979 Rabbits, fancy 984 Radish, varieties of the 1152 Raised pie, of poultry or game 1340 Pork 835-6 Veal and ham 1841 Raisin, the 1327 Raisins, cheese 1587 Grape 1324 Pudding, baked 1336 boiled 1337 Ramakins, pastry 1650 To serve with cheese course 1649 Raspberry, and currant salad 1592 tart 1267 Cream 1175 Jam 1588 Jelly 1589 Vinegar 1828 Raspberries, red and white 1267 Ratafias 1745 Ravigotte, a French salad sauce 501 Reading sauce 502 Rearing by hand 2497-8 Rearing, management, and diseases of infancy and childhood 2415-2577 Receipts 2730 Regency soup 182 Rémoulade, or French salad dressing 503 Rent, recovery of 2719-22 Rhubarb, and orange jam 1591 Description of 1339 Jam 1590 Pudding, boiled 1338 Tart 1339 Wine 1829 Ribbons, or silk, to clean 2275 Rice, and apples 1400 Biscuits or cakes 1746 Blancmange 1476 Boiled for curries 1347 Bread 1720 Buttered 1349 Cake 1772 Casserole of, savoury 1350 sweet 1351 Croquettes 1477 Esteemed by the ancients 1349 Fritters 1478 Ground 1746 boiled 1353 Iced 1354 Indian, origin of 150 Milk 1875 Paddy 1347 Pudding, baked 1342 more economical 1343 boiled 1345 plain 1344 with dried or fresh fruit 1346 French, or gâteau de riz 1352 Miniature 1355 Qualities of 1342 Snowballs 1479 Soufflé 1480 Soup 150-1 To boil for curries 1348 Varieties of 1345 Ringworm, cure for 2667 Alterative powders for 2668 Rinsing 2379 Rissoles, beef 465 Roach, the 243 Roasting, age of 65 Memoranda in 657 Rock biscuits 1747 Rolls, excellent 1723 Fluted 1317 Hot 1724 Meat, or sausage 1373 Roux, brown, for thickening sauces 525 White, 526 Rusks, Italian 1733 To make 1734 Sage 427 And onion stuffing 501 Sago, alimentary properties of 1367 How procured 152 Pudding 1367 Sauce for sweet puddings 1368 Soup 152 Salad, a poetic recipe for 508 Boiled 1151 Chicken 931 Dressing 506-8 French 503 Grouse 1026 Lobster 272 Orange 1571 Potato 1154 Scarcity of, in England 505 Summer 1152 Winter 1153 Salads 1153 Salmi de perdrix, or hashed partridge 1038 Salmon, à la Genevese 307 And caper sauce 302 Aversion of the 309 Boiled 301 Collared 303 Crimped 304 Curried 305 Cutlets 306 Growth of the 305 Habitat of the 303 Migratory habits of the 302 Pickled 308 Potted 309 To carve _p._ 175 choose 301 cure 308 Tribe 304 Salsify, description of 1149 To dress 1149 Salt, action of on meat 607 Common 403 Fish 233 Meat, Soyer's recipe for preserving the gravy in 609 Sandwiches, of cheese 1611 Pastry 1318 Toast 1877 Victoria 1491 Sauce, à l'Aurore 511 A la matelote 512 Allemande, or German sauce 509 Anchovy, for fish 362 Sauce, apple, brown 364 for geese or pork 363 Aristocratique 510 Arrowroot, for puddings 1356 Asparagus 365 Béchamel, or French white sauce 367 maigre 368 Benton 370 Beurre noir, or browned butter, a French sauce 374 Bread 371-2 Browning for 373 Butter, melted 376-7 made with milk 380 maitre d'hôtel 465 thickened 379 Camp vinegar 381 Caper, for boiled mutton 382 for fish 383 a substitute for 384 Celery, for boiled turkey, poultry, &c. 387 a more simple recipe 388 Cherry, for sweet puddings 1357 Chestnut, brown 391 for turkey or fowls 390 Chili vinegar 393 Christopher North's, for game or meat 394 Consommé, or white stock for 395 Crab, for fish 396 Cream, for fish or white dishes 397 Cucumber 398 white 400 Custard, for sweet puddings or tart 404 Dutch, for fish 405 green, or Hollandaise verte 406 Egg, for salt fish 409 Epicurean 410 Espagnole, or brown Spanish 411 Fennel, for mackerel 412 Fish 413 For boiled puddings 514 steaks 516 wildfowl 519 Genevese, for salmon, trout, &c. 427 Gooseberry, for boiled mackerel 429 Green, for green geese or ducklings 431 Horseradish 447 Hot spice 524 Indian chetney 452 Italian, brown 453 white 454 Leamington 459 Lemon, for boiled fowls 457 for fowls and fricassees, white 458 for sweet puddings 1358 Liaison of eggs for thickening 461 Liver and lemon, for poultry 462 parsley 463 Lobster 464 Maigre maître d'hôtel (hot) 467 Maître d'hôtel (hot) 466 Mango chetney (Bengal recipe) 392 Mayonnaise 468 Melted butter 376-8 Mint 469 Mushroom, a very rich and good 479 brown 474 ketchup 472 white 475-6 Onion, brown 485 French, or Soubise 483 white 484 Oyster 492 Parsley and butter 493 Piquante 513 Plum-pudding 499 Quin's (an excellent fish-sauce) 500 Ravigotte 501 Reading 502 Robert 515 Sago, for sweet puddings 1368 Shrimp 522 Soyer's, for plum-puddings 1359 Store, or Cherokee 528 Sweet, for puddings 1360 venison 518 Thickening for 525-6 Tomato 529-32 Tournée 517 Vanilla custard 1361 Wine, excellent for puddings 1362 for puddings 1364 or brandy 1363 white 537-9 Sauces and gravies, in the Middle Ages 433 Manufacture of 510 Pickles, gravies, and forcemeats, remarks on 354, 361 Saucer-cakes, for tea 1774 Sausage, meat cakes 839 Meat stuffing 520 Or meat rolls 1373 Sausages, beef 662 Pork, fried 838 to make 837 Veal 904 Savory 446 Savoury jelly for meat pies 521 Savoy, the 140 Biscuits or cakes 1748 Cake 1782 Scarlatina, or scarlet fever 2560-3 Scotch, collops 870 white 871 Eggs 1666 Rarebit, or toasted cheese 1651 Shortbread 1780 Woodcock 1653 Scrap cakes 1779 Scratches 2669 Sea-bream, the 310 baked 310 Mr. Yarrell's recipe 310 Kale, description of 1150 To boil 1150 Seed, biscuits 1749 Cake, common 1775 very good 1776 Semolina, pudding, baked 1369 Qualities of 153 Soup 153 Uses of 1369 Shad, the 311 To dress 311 Shalot, or Eschalot 410 Sheep, the 175 General observations on the 678, 697 Poets on the 730 Sheep's brains, en matelote 740 Feet, or trotters 741 Head, to dress 742 singed 742 Shepherd, the Ettrick 739 The Good 705 Shepherds and their flocks 710 Sherry 1416 Pale 1426 Shortbread, Scotch 1780 Shrimp, the 313 Sauce 522 Shrimps, or prawns, buttered 313 to boil 299 Potted 312 Sick-rooms, caution in visiting 2692 Sirloin, origin of the word 659 Skate, the 315 Boiled 314 Crimped 315 Small, fried 317 Species of 317 To choose 315 With caper sauce (à la Française) 316 Smelt, the 319 Odour of the 318 Smelts, to bake 318 To fry 319 Snipe, description of the 1047 Snipes, to carve 1060 To dress 1047 Snow cake 1777-8 Eggs, or oeufs à la neige 1482 Snowballs, apple 1235 Rice 1479 Soda, biscuits 1751 Bread 1722 Cake 1781 Carbonate of 1765 Sole, the 320 Flavour of the 324 Or cod pie 322 Soles, a favourite dish of the ancient Greeks 323 Baked 320 Boiled 321 or fried, to carve _p._ 175 Filleted, à l'Italienne 324 Fricasseed 325 Fried 327 filleted 326 How caught 325 To choose 320 With cream sauce 323 mushrooms 328 Sorrel 131 Qualities of 431 Soufflé, apple 1402 Chocolate 1427 Omelette 1461 Rice 1480 To make a 1481 Soufflés, general observations on 1388 Soup, à la cantatrice 119 Crecy 126 Flamande 129-30 Julienne 131 Reine 183-4 Solferino 154 Almond 110 Apple 111 Artichoke, Jerusalem 112 Asparagus 113-14 Baked 115 Barley 116 Bread 117 Brilla 166 Broth and bouillon, general remarks on 91-5 Cabbage 118 Calf's head 167 Carrot 120-1 Celery 122 Chantilly 123 Chemistry and economy of making 96, 103 Chestnut, Spanish 124 Cock-a Leekie 134 Cocoa-nut 125 Crayfish 193 Cucumber 127 Eel 194 Egg 128 Family, a good 190 Fish, stock 192 General directions for making 88 Giblet 168 Gravy 169 Hare 170 Hessian 171 Hodge-podge 191 In season, January to December _pp._ 57, 104 Kale brose 132 Leek 133 Lobster 195 Macaroni 135 Maigre 136 Making, the chemistry of 96-103 Milk 137 Mock-turtle 172-3 Mutton, good 175 Ox-cheek 176 Ox-tail 177 Oyster 196-7 Pan kail 140 Parsnip 141 Partridge 178 Pea, green 144 inexpensive 142 winter, yellow 143 Pheasant 179 Portable 180 Potage printanier 149 Potato 145-7 Prawn 198 Prince of Wales 148 Rabbit 181 Regency 182 Rice 150-1 Sago 152 Seasonings for 90 Semolina 153 Spanish chestnut 124 Spinach 155 Spring 149 Stew 186-7 of salt meat 185 Tapioca 156 Turkey 188 Turnip 157 Turtle 189 Useful for benevolent purposes 165 Vegetable 159-161 marrow 158 Vermicelli 162-3 White 164 Sow, Berkshire 781 Chinese 785 Cumberland 784 Essex 782 Price of, in Africa 816 Yorkshire 783 Soy 497 Soyer's recipe for goose stuffing 505 Spanish onions pickled 527 Spiced beef 665 Spinach, description of 1156 Dressed with cream, à la Française 1156 French mode of dressing 1157 Green, for colouring dishes 523 Soup 155 To boil, English mode 1155 Varieties of 155, 1155 Sponge cake 1783 Small, to make 1785 Lemon 1448 Sprains 2671 Sprat, the 331 Sprats 329 Dried 331 Fried in batter 330 Sprouts 1096 Boiled, Brussels 1096 To boil young greens, or 1097 Stables and coach-house 2204 Heat of 2205 Stains of syrup, or preserved fruits, to remove 2273 Stalls 2207 Stammering 2673 Cure for 2672 Stamp duties 2742 Starch, to make 2391-2 Starching 2390 Stew soup 185-7 Stilton cheese 1639 Stock, browning for 108 Stock, cow-heel 1412 Economical 106 For gravies, general 432 For jelly 1411 Medium 105 Rich strong 104 To clarify 109 White 107 Stomach, digestion 2457-9 Stone cream 1483 Store sauce, or Cherokee 528 Strawberry, jam 1594 Jelly 1484 Name of, among the Greeks 1381 Origin of the name 1365 Strawberries, and cream 1593 Dish of 1606 To preserve whole 1596 in wine 1595 Stuffing, for geese, ducks, pork, &c 504 Sausage meat for turkey 520 Soyer's recipe for 505 Sturgeon, the 332 Baked 332 Estimate of, by the ancients 333 Roast 333 Stye in the eye 2630 Substitute for milk and cream 1815 Sucking-pig, to carve 842 To roast 841 scald 840 Suffocation, apparent 2674 Carbonic acid gas, choke-damp of mines 2675 Sugar, and beetroot 1211 Cane 1334 French 1211 Icing for cakes 1736 Introduction of 1336 Potato 1136 Qualities of 1212 To boil to caramel 1514 Sulphuric acid 2649 Sultana grape 1326 Suppers 2139-41 Sweetbreads, baked 906 Fried 907 Stewed 908 Sweet dishes, general observations on 1385-8 Swine, flesh of, in hot climates 835 Swineherds of antiquity 836 Saxon 838 Swiss cream 1485 Syllabub, to make 1486 Whipped 1493 Syrup, for compotes, to make 1512 Lemon 1822 Of poppies 2663 To clarify 1513 Tails, strange 652 Tapioca pudding 1370 Soup 156 Wholesomeness of 156, 1370 Tart, apple creamed 1234 Apricot 1239 Barberry, 1245 Cherry 1261 Damson 1270 Gooseberry 1285 Plum 1331 Raspberry and currant 1267 Rhubarb 1339 Strawberry, or any other kind of preserve, open 1365 Tartlets 1371 Polish 1320 Tarragon 503 Taxes 2714 Tea 1814 And coffee 1813 Miss Nightingale's opinion on the use of 1864 To make 1814 Teacakes 1786 To toast 1787 Teal, to carve 1067 To roast a 1048 Teething 2510-18 Tenancy, by sufferance 2701 General remarks on 2717 Tench, the 334 And eel-pie 349 Matelote of 334 Singular quality in the 335 Stewed with wine 335 Terms used in cookery, French 87 Thrush and its treatment 2523-37 Thyme 166 Tipsy-cake 1487 an easy way of making 1488 Toad-in-the-hole 672 of cold meat 743 Toast, and water, to make 1876 Sandwiches 1877 Tea-cakes, to 1787 To make dry 1725 hot buttered 1726 Toffee, Everton, to make 1597 Tomato, analysis of the 1159 Extended cultivation of the 1160 Immense importance in cookery 1153 Sauce 529 for keeping 530-2 Stewed 1159-60 Uses of the 629, 528, 2690 Tomatoes, baked, excellent 1158 Tongue, boiled 673 Pickle for 641 To cure 674-5 To pickle and dress to eat cold 676 Tongues of animals 675 Toothache, cure for the 2678-9 Tourte apple or cake 1236 Treacle, or molasses, description of 1224 Pudding, rolled 1372 Trifle, apple 1404 Gooseberry 1434 Indian 1436 To make a 1489 Tripe, to dress 677 Trout, the 336 Stewed 336 Truffle, the common 1161 Impossibility of regular culture of the 1162 Uses of the 1164 Truffles, à l' Italienne 1164 Au naturel 1161 Italian mode of dressing 1163 To dress with champagne 1162 Where found 1163 Turbot, the 333 À la crême 341 Ancient Romans' estimate of the 340 Au gratin 342 Boiled 337 Fillet of, baked 339 a l'Italienne 340 Garnish for, or other large fish 338 To carve a _p_. 175 To choose 338 Turkey, boiled 986 Croquettes of 987 Difficult to rear the 188 Disposition of the 988 English 990 Feathers of the 991 Fricasseed 988 Habits of the 988 Hashed 989 Hunting 989 Native of America 986 Or fowl, to bone without opening 992-4 Poults, roast 991 Roast 990 Stuffing for 520 Soup 188 To carve a roast 1005 Wild 987 Turnip greens boiled 1169 Or the French navet 1168 Qualities of the 1167 Soup 157 Uses of the 1165 Whence introduced 157 Turnips, boiled 1165 German mode of cooking 1167 In white sauce 1168 Mashed 1166 Turnovers, fruit 1278 Turtle, mock 172-3 Soup, cost of 189 The green 189 Valet, cleaning clothes 2239 Duties of the 2234-8, 2242 Polish for boots 2240-1 Vanilla cream 1490 Custard sauce 1361 Vanille or Vanilla 1490 Veal, a la bourgeoise 869 And ham pie 898 Baked 856 Breast of, roast 857 stewed and peas 858 to carve 912 Cake 859 Collops 879 Scotch 870 Veal, collops, Scotch, white 871 Colour of 861 Curried 865 Cutlets 866 à la Maintenon 868 broiled 867 Dinner, a very 897 Fillet of, au Béchamel 883 roast 872 stewed 873 to carve a 914 Frenchman's opinion of 911 Fricandeau of 874-5 Knuckle of, ragoût 884 stewed 885 to carve a 915 Loin of au Daube 888 au Béchamel 887 roast 886 to carve 916 Manner of cutting up 854 Minced 891-892 and macaroni 891 Neck of, braised 893 roast 894 Olive pie 895 Patties, fried 896 Pie 897 Potted 899 Quenelles 422 Ragoût of, cold 900 Rissoles 901 Rolls 902 Sausages 904 Season and choice of 908 Shoulder of 903 Stewed 905 tendons de veau 909-10 Tète de veau en tortue 911 Vegetable, a variety of the goard 158 Fried 1171 Marrow, a tropical plant 1171 boiled 1170 in white sauce 1173 Soup 158, 159-61 Vegetables, acetarious 1151 And herbs, various 89 Cut for soups 1172 General observations on 1069, 1079 Reduced to purée 1166 In season, January to December _pp_. 33-7 Venison 1049 Antiquity of, as food 444 Hashed 1050 Haunch of, roast 1049 Sauce for 518 Stewed 1051 The new 1051 To carve 1061 Ventilation, necessity of, in rooms lighted with gas 2693 of stables 2206 Vermicelli 162, 1377 Pudding 1377 Soup 162-3 Vicarage pudding 1378 Victoria sandwiches 1491 Vinegar, camp. 381 Cayenne 385 Celery 389 Chili 393 Cucumber 401 Gooseberry 1820 Horseradish 418 Mint 470 Raspberry 1828 Use of, by the Romans 451 Vol-au-vent, an entrée 1379 Of fresh strawberries with whipped cream 1381 Sweet, with fresh fruit 1380 Wafers, Geneva 1431 Walnut, the 536 Ketchup 535-6 Walnuts, pickled 534 Properties of the 1599 To have fresh throughout the season 1607 Warts 2680 Washing 2377-8 Coloured muslins, &c. 2380 Flannels 2381 Greasy cloths 2382 Satin and silk ribbons 2384 Silks 2385 Water, rate 2715 Souchy 352-3 Supply of in Rome 1216 Warm 2691 What the ancients thought of 1214 Wax, to remove 2272 Welsh, nectar 1830 Rarebit, or toasted cheese 1652 West-Indian pudding 1382 Wheat, diseases of 1779 Egyptian or mummy 1783 Polish and Pomeranian 1722 Red varieties of 1719 Wheatear, the 996 Wheatears, to dress 996 Whipped, cream 1492 Syllabubs 1493 Whisky cordial 1840 Whitebait 348 To dress 348 Whiting, the 343 Au gratin, or baked 346 Aux fines herbes 347 Buckhorn 344 Boiled 343 Broiled 344 Fried 345 Pout and pollack 347 To carve a _p_. 176 choose 343 Whitlow, to cure a 2681 Widgeon, to carve a 1068 Roast 1052 Will, attestation of a 2757 Advice in making a 2756 Witnesses to a 2746, 2758 Wills 2732-38 Form of 2740-1 Wine, cowslip 1817 Elder 1818 Ginger 1819 Gooseberry, effervescing 1821 Lemon 1823 Malt 1824 Orange 1827 Rhubarb 1829 To mull 1838 Wire-basket 494 Witnesses 2739-51 Woodcock, description of the 1053 Scotch 1653 To carve a 1062 Woodcock, to roast a 1053 Woollen manufactures 737 Woollens 2284 Worms 2409 Wounds 2682 Incised, or cuts 2683, 2686 Lacerated or torn 2684, 2687 Punctured or penetrating 2685, 2688 Yeast 1383 Cake, nice 1788 Dumplings 1383 Kirkleatham 1717 To make, for bread 1716 Yorkshire pudding 1384 ENGRAVINGS. Almond and blossom 110 Puddings 1222 Almonds and raisins 1598 Anchovy 226 Apple, and blossom 1226 Compote of 1515 Jelly stuck with almonds 1395 Apples, dish of 1598 Arrowroot 387 Artichoke, cardoon 1080 Jerusalem 1084 Artichokes 1080 Asparagus 114 On toast 1087 Tongs 1087 Bacon, boiled 804 For larding, and needles 828 Bain Marie 430 Bantams, black 939 Feather-legged 958 Barbel 229 Barberry 1245 Barley 116 Basil 417 Basin, pudding 1200 Basket, wire 494 Bay, the 512 Bean, broad 1092 French 1151 Haricot 1120 Scarlet runner 1090 Beef, aitchbone of 677 Brisket of, to carve a 677 Collared 617 Ribs of, to carve a 677 Round of, to carve a 677 Beef, side of, showing the several joints 595 Sirloin of 659 " to carve a 677 Steak pie 604 Tongue 675 " to carve a 677 Beetroot 1094 Birds 917 Blackcock 1019 Roast 1019 " to carve a 1054 Blacking-brush box 2342 Blancmange 1409 Mould for 1408, 1442 Boar, Westphalian 787 Bread, &c. 1658 Loaf of, cottage 1718 Tin 1718 Brill, the 230 Brocoli 1095 Boiled 1095 Broom, carpet 2293 Long hair 2306 Brush, banister 2302 Cornice 2327 Crumb 2321 Dusting 2327 Furniture 2310 Plate 2317 Scrubbing 2306 Staircase 2302 Stove 2294 Buns 1731 Butler's tray and stand 2315 Butter, dish 1632 Dish of, rolled 1634 Cabbage, seeding 118 Cake-moulds 1756,1761,1772 Calf, side of, showing the several joints 854 Calf's-head 877 Half a 877 To carve a 913 Calves 845 Sweetbreads of 906 Caper, the 383 Capercalzie, the 1026 Capsicum, the 362 Carp, the 242 Carpet brooms 2293 Carrots 1100 Cauliflower, the 1104 Boiled 1104 Celery 441 In glass 1107 Char, the 243 Charlotte aux pommes 1418 Cheese glass 1640 Hot-water dish for 1651 Stilton 1639 Cherry 1261 Chervil 1151 Chestnut 124 Chocolate, box of 1598 Milk 1807 Christmas pudding, &c. 1175 Chub, the 243 Cinnamon 524 Citron, the 1436 Claret-cup 1831 Clove, the 367 Coal, sections of 73 Cocoa-bean 1815 Nut and blossom 125 " palm 125 Cod, the 231 Cod's head and shoulders, to carve 174 Coffee 1811 Colander, ancient 68 Modern 68 Coriander 174 Cork, with wooden top 446 Cow and bull, Alderney 592 Galloway 593 Long-horn 591 Short-horn 590 Crab, the 245 Crayfish 193 Cream-mould 1430 Crumpets 1728 Cucumber, the 402,1111 Slice 1152 Sliced 1111 Currants 1266 Zante 1264 Custards, in glasses 1423 Cygnet 998 Dace, the 243 Damson, the 1270 Deer, the 444 Eland, bull and cow 1051 Fallow, buck and doe 1050 Roebuck 1051 The stag and hind 1051 Dessert 1495 Dishes 1598 Dish, baking 551 Pie 1190 Sussex pudding 695 Dripping-pan, ancient 68 Modern 68 And basting-ladle 580 Duck, Aylesbury 935 Bowbill 936 Buenos Ayres 933 Call 937 Roast 934 " to carve a 999 Rouen 934 Wild 1022 " roast 1022 " " to carve a 1055 Eel, the 249 Egg poacher, tin 1663 Stand for breakfast-table 1656 Eggs, basket of 1667 Comparative sizes of 1665 Fried on bacon 1659 Poached, on toast 1663 Elder-berries 1818 Endive 169 Ewe, heath 690 Leicester 682 Romney-Marsh 691 South-Down 687 Fennel 412 Figs, compote of 1541 Fish 199 Flounders 259 Flowers and fruit 61, 103, 584, 925 Fowl, black bantams 939 Black Spanish 962 Boiled 938 " to carve a 1000 Cochin-China 942 Dorking 940 Feather-legged bantams 958 Game 938 Guinea 970 Pencilled Hamburgs 965 Roast 952 " to carve a 1001 Sebright bantams 961 Spangled Polands 941 Speckled Hamburgs 959 Sultans 963 Fritter mould, star 1473 Scroll 1474 Fruit, dish of, mixed 1598 Dish of, mixed summer 1598 Game 1006 Garlic 392 Gherkins 428 Ginger 407 Gingerbread 1760 Glass measure, graduated 77 Goose, Emden 968 Roast 1002 " to carve a 1002 Toulouse 969 Gooseberry 429 Grape, raisin 1324 Sultana 1326 Gridiron, ancient 68 Modern 68 Revolving 569 Grouse, red 1025 Roast 1025 " to carve a 1058 Gudgeon, the 261 Gurnet, the 262 Haddock, the 263 Ham, boiled 811 To carve 843 Hare, the common 170, 1027 Roast 1027 " to carve a 1056 Herring, the 268 Horseradish 447 Hotplate 568 Housemaid's box 2294 Ice-pail and spattle 1290 Ices, dish of 1556 Jack-bottle 580 Jam-pot 1532 Jar-potting 642 Jellies, &c 1385 Jelly, bag 1411 Mould 1411, 1416 " oval 1449 Moulded with cherries 1440 Of two colours 1441 Open with whipped cream 1453 John Dory 248 Kettle, glaze 430 Fish 225 Gravy 432 Kidneys 724 Knife-cleaning machine 5123 Lamb, fore-quarter of 750 " " to carve a 764 Leg of 752 Loin of 753 Ribs of 754 Saddle of 754 Side of 701 Lamprey, the 256 Landrail, the 1033 Leaf in puff paste 1245 Pastry 1492 Leeks 134 Lemon, the 405, 1296 Cream mould 1443 Dumplings 1294 Lentil, the 126 Lettuce, the 136 Lobster, the 270 Macaroni 135 Macaroons 1744 Mace 371 Mackerel, the 281 Maize, ear of 1721 Plant 1721 Marjoram 415 Marrow-bones 635 Milking cow 1608 Millet, Italian 1718 Panicled 1733 Mince pies 1311 Mint 469 Mould, baked pudding or cake 1329 Blancmange 1408, 1442 Boiled pudding 1196-8 Cake 1756, 1764, 1772 Cream 1430 For Christmas plum-pudding 1328 For an open tart 1365 Iced pudding 1289 Jelly 1411, 1416 " oval 1449 Lemon cream 1443 Open 1454, 1463 Raised pie, closed and open 1190 Raspberry cream 1475 Vanilla cream 1490 Muffins 1727 Mulberry, the 1560 Mullet, grey 284 Striped red 285 Mushroom, the 473 Mushrooms 1125 Broiled 1125 Mustard 450 Mutton, cutlets 732 Haunch of 726 " to carve a 759 Leg of 727 " to carve a 760 Loin of 728 " to carve a 761 Neck of 737 Saddle of 738 " to carve a 762 Side of, showing the several joints 695 Shoulder of 739 " to carve a 763 Nasturtiums 482 Nutmeg, the 378 Nuts, dish of 1598 Olive, the 506 Omelet 1456 Pan 1458 Onion, the 139 Orange, the 1314 Oranges, compote of 1565 Oyster, edible 286 Pail, house 2327 Pancakes 1467 Parsley 493 Parsnip, the 1132 Partridge, the 1039 Roast 1039 " to carve a 1057 Baste, board and rolling-pin 1186 Cutter and corner-cutter 1189 Ornamental cutter 1189 Pincers and jagger 1186 Patty-pans, plain and fluted 1190 Pea, the 143 Peach, the 1469 Pear, bon Chrétien 1576 Pears, stewed 1576 Peas, green 1135 Pepper, black 369 Long 399 Perch, the 292 Pestle and Mortar 421 Pheasant, the 1041 Roast 1041 " to carve a 1059 Pickle, Indian 551 Pie, raised 1340 Pig, Guinea 997 Roast, sucking 841 " " to carve a 842 Pig's face 823 Pigs 765 Pigeon, barb 976 Blue rock 976 Carrier 974 Fantail 976 Jacobin 976 Nun 975 Owl 976 Pouter 973 Roast 974 Runt 975 To carve a 1003 Trumpeter 975 Tumbler 975 Turbit 976 Wood 975 Pike, the 295 Pimento 438 Plaice, the 298 Plover, the 1044 Plum, the 1330 Pork, fore loin of 829 Griskin of 827 Hind loin of 829 Leg of, to carve a 844 " roast 800 Side of, showing joints 795 Spare rib of 827 Pot, boiling 567 Potato, the 147 Pasty pan 1333 Rissoles 1147 Sweet 1146 Potatoes, baked, served in napkin 1136 Pound cake 1770 Prawn, the 198 Ptarmigan, or white grouse 1045 Pudding, boiled fruit 1284 Cabinet 1286 Punch-bowl and ladle 1839 Quadrupeds 585 Quail, the 1046 Quern, or grinding-mill 117 Quince, the 1233 Rabbit, Angora 983 Boiled 977 " to carve a 1004 Hare, the 985 Himalaya 985 Lop-eared 984 Roast 983 " to carve a 1004 Wild 978 Radish, long 1152 Turnip 1152 Raisin, grape 1324 Ram, heath 689 Leicester 688 Romney-Marsh and ewe 691 South-down and ewe 687 Range, modern 65 Raspberry, the 1267 Cream mould 1475 Ratafias 1745 Rhubarb 1339 Rice, casserole of 1350 Ears of 150 Roach, the 243 Rolls 1723 Rusks 1734 Sage 427 Sago palm 152 Salad, in bowl 1152 Salmon, the 304 To carve a _p._ 175 Salt-mine at Northwich 403 Saucepan, ancient 68 Modern 68 Sauce tureen, boat, &c. 354 Sausages, fried 838 Sauté-pan 571 Ancient 68 Modern 68 Scales, ancient and modern 70 Screen, meat 582 Sea-bream, the 310 Sea-kale 1150 Boiled 1150 Shad, the 311 Shalot, the 410 Sheep 678 Heath ram 689 " ewe 690 Romney-Marsh ram and ewe 691 South-Down ram and ewe 687 Shortbread 1780 Shrimp, the 313 Skate, thornback 315 Snipe, the 1047 Roast 1047 " to carve a 1060 Sole, the 320 Sorrel 431 Soufflé pan 1481 Sow, and pigs 765 Berkshire 781 Chinese 785 Cumberland 784 Essex 782 Yorkshire 783 Spinach 155 Garnished with croûtons 1155 Sponge cake 1783 Sprat, the 331 Sprouts, Brussels 1098 Stewpan 567 Stock-pot, ancient 66 Bronze 66 Modern 66 Stove, gas 575 Family kitchener 65 Leamington 65, 540 Pompeiian 65 Strawberries, dish of 1598 Sturgeon, the 332 Sugar-cane, the 1335 Sultana grape, the 1326 Swans 54 Tarragon 503 Tart, open 1365 Open mould for a 1365 Plum 1331 Tartlets, dish of 1371 Tazza and carrot leaves 121 Tea 1814 Teacakes 1787 Tench, the 334 Thyme, lemon 458 Tipsy cake 1487 Tomato, the 529 Tomatoes, stewed 1159 Trifle 1489 Trout, the 336 Truffles 1161 Turbot, the 338 Kettle 338 To carve a 176 Tureen, soup 88 Turkey, boiled 986 Roast 990 " to carve a 1005 Turnip 157 Turnips 1165 Turret on old Abbey kitchen 62 Turtle, the 189 Urns, Loysell's hydrostatic 1810 Utensils for cooking, ancient and modern 66-8 Vanilla cream mould 1490 Veal, breast of 857 " to carve a 912 Cutlets 866 Fillet of 872 " to carve a 914 Knuckle of 885 " to carve a 915 Loin of 885 " to carve a 916 Vegetable, cutter 1173 Strips of 131 Vegetable marrow 158 In white sauce 1173 On toast 1170 Vegetables 1069 Cellular development of 1075 Siliceous cuticles of 1075 Venison, haunch of 1061 " roast 1049 " to carve a 1061 Vermicelli 162 Vessels for beverages 1789 Vol-au-vent 1379 Small 1379 Walnut, the 536 Wheat 1779 Egyptian, or mummy 1783 Polish 1722 Red winter 1719 Whitebait 348 Whiting, the 343 Window and flowers 75 Wirebasket 494 Woodcock, the 1053 Roast 1053 Scotch 1653 To carve a 1062 Yorkshire pudding 1384 COLOURED PLATES. Apples in custard Beef, round of, boiled Roast sirloin of Calf's head, boiled Charlotte aux pommes Cod's head and shoulders Crab, dressed Duck, wild Ducks, couple of, roast Eggs, poached, and spinach Fowl, boiled with cauliflower Roast, with watercresses Fruits, centre dish of various Goose, roast Grouse Ham, cold glazed Hare, roast Jelly, two colours of Lobsters, dressed Mackerel, boiled Mutton cutlets and mashed potatoes Haunch of roast Saddle of roast Mutton, shoulder of roast Oysters, scalloped Partridge Pheasant Pie, raised Pig, sucking, roast or baked Pigeon Plum-pudding, Christmas, in mould Rabbit, boiled Or fowl, curried Raspberry cream Rissoles Salmon, boiled Snipe Soles, dish of filleted Spinach and poached eggs Strawberries, au naturel, in ornamental flower-pot Tongue, cold boiled Trifle Turbot, or brill, boiled Turkey, roast Veal, fricandeau of Vol-au-vent Whiting, dish of, fried Woodcock THE BOOK OF HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT. CHAPTER I. THE MISTRESS. "Strength, and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household; and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her."--_Proverbs_, xxxi. 25-28. I. AS WITH THE COMMANDER OF AN ARMY, or the leader of any enterprise, so is it with the mistress of a house. Her spirit will be seen through the whole establishment; and just in proportion as she performs her duties intelligently and thoroughly, so will her domestics follow in her path. Of all those acquirements, which more particularly belong to the feminine character, there are none which take a higher rank, in our estimation, than such as enter into a knowledge of household duties; for on these are perpetually dependent the happiness, comfort, and well-being of a family. In this opinion we are borne out by the author of "The Vicar of Wakefield," who says: "The modest virgin, the prudent wife, and the careful matron, are much more serviceable in life than petticoated philosophers, blustering heroines, or virago queens. She who makes her husband and her children happy, who reclaims the one from vice and trains up the other to virtue, is a much greater character than ladies described in romances, whose whole occupation is to murder mankind with shafts from their quiver, or their eyes." 2. PURSUING THIS PICTURE, we may add, that to be a good housewife does not necessarily imply an abandonment of proper pleasures or amusing recreation; and we think it the more necessary to express this, as the performance of the duties of a mistress may, to some minds, perhaps seem to be incompatible with the enjoyment of life. Let us, however, now proceed to describe some of those home qualities and virtues which are necessary to the proper management of a Household, and then point out the plan which may be the most profitably pursued for the daily regulation of its affairs. 3. EARLY RISING IS ONE OF THE MOST ESSENTIAL QUALITIES which enter into good Household Management, as it is not only the parent of health, but of innumerable other advantages. Indeed, when a mistress is an early riser, it is almost certain that her house will be orderly and well-managed. On the contrary, if she remain in bed till a late hour, then the domestics, who, as we have before observed, invariably partake somewhat of their mistress's character, will surely become sluggards. To self-indulgence all are more or less disposed, and it is not to be expected that servants are freer from this fault than the heads of houses. The great Lord Chatham thus gave his advice in reference to this subject:--"I would have inscribed on the curtains of your bed, and the walls of your chamber, 'If you do not rise early, you can make progress in nothing.'" 4. CLEANLINESS IS ALSO INDISPENSABLE TO HEALTH, and must be studied both in regard to the person and the house, and all that it contains. Cold or tepid baths should be employed every morning, unless, on account of illness or other circumstances, they should be deemed objectionable. The bathing of _children_ will be treated of under the head of "MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN." 5. FRUGALITY AND ECONOMY ARE HOME VIRTUES, without which no household can prosper. Dr. Johnson says: "Frugality may be termed the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temperance, and the parent of Liberty. He that is extravagant will quickly become poor, and poverty will enforce dependence and invite corruption." The necessity of practising economy should be evident to every one, whether in the possession of an income no more than sufficient for a family's requirements, or of a large fortune, which puts financial adversity out of the question. We must always remember that it is a great merit in housekeeping to manage a little well. "He is a good waggoner," says Bishop Hall, "that can turn in a little room. To live well in abundance is the praise of the estate, not of the person. I will study more how to give a good account of my little, than how to make it more." In this there is true wisdom, and it may be added, that those who can manage a little well, are most likely to succeed in their management of larger matters. Economy and frugality must never, however, be allowed to degenerate into parsimony and meanness. 6. THE CHOICE OF ACQUAINTANCES is very important to the happiness of a mistress and her family. A gossiping acquaintance, who indulges in the scandal and ridicule of her neighbours, should be avoided as a pestilence. It is likewise all-necessary to beware, as Thomson sings, "The whisper'd tale, That, like the fabling Nile, no fountain knows;-- Fair-laced Deceit, whose wily, conscious aye Ne'er looks direct; the tongue that licks the dust But, when it safely dares, as prompt to sting." If the duties of a family do not sufficiently occupy the time of a mistress, society should be formed of such a kind as will tend to the mutual interchange of general and interesting information. 7. FRIENDSHIPS SHOULD NOT BE HASTILY FORMED, nor the heart given, at once, to every new-comer. There are ladies who uniformly smile at, and approve everything and everybody, and who possess neither the courage to reprehend vice, nor the generous warmth to defend virtue. The friendship of such persons is without attachment, and their love without affection or even preference. They imagine that every one who has any penetration is ill-natured, and look coldly on a discriminating judgment. It should be remembered, however, that this discernment does not always proceed from an uncharitable temper, but that those who possess a long experience and thorough knowledge of the world, scrutinize the conduct and dispositions of people before they trust themselves to the first fair appearances. Addison, who was not deficient in a knowledge of mankind, observes that "a friendship, which makes the least noise, is very often the most useful; for which reason, I should prefer a prudent friend to a zealous one." And Joanna Baillie tells us that "Friendship is no plant of hasty growth, Though planted in esteem's deep-fixed soil, The gradual culture of kind intercourse Must bring it to perfection." 8. HOSPITALITY IS A MOST EXCELLENT VIRTUE; but care must be taken that the love of company, for its own sake, does not become a prevailing passion; for then the habit is no longer hospitality, but dissipation. Reality and truthfulness in this, as in all other duties of life, are the points to be studied; for, as Washington Irving well says, "There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality, which cannot be described, but is immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at his ease." With respect to the continuance of friendships, however, it may be found necessary, in some cases, for a mistress to relinquish, on assuming the responsibility of a household, many of those commenced in the earlier part of her life. This will be the more requisite, if the number still retained be quite equal to her means and opportunities. 9. IN CONVERSATION, TRIFLING OCCURRENCES, such as small disappointments, petty annoyances, and other every-day incidents, should never be mentioned to your friends. The extreme injudiciousness of repeating these will be at once apparent, when we reflect on the unsatisfactory discussions which they too frequently occasion, and on the load of advice which they are the cause of being tendered, and which is, too often, of a kind neither to be useful nor agreeable. Greater events, whether of joy or sorrow, should be communicated to friends; and, on such occasions, their sympathy gratifies and comforts. If the mistress be a wife, never let an account of her husband's failings pass her lips; and in cultivating the power of conversation, she should keep the versified advice of Cowper continually in her memory, that it "Should flow like water after summer showers, Not as if raised by mere mechanic powers." In reference to its style, Dr. Johnson, who was himself greatly distinguished for his colloquial abilities, says that "no style is more extensively acceptable than the narrative, because this does not carry an air of superiority over the rest of the company; and, therefore, is most likely to please them. For this purpose we should store our memory with short anecdotes and entertaining pieces of history. Almost every one listens with eagerness to extemporary history. Vanity often co-operates with curiosity; for he that is a hearer in one place wishes to qualify himself to be a principal speaker in some inferior company; and therefore more attention is given to narrations than anything else in conversation. It is true, indeed, that sallies of wit and quick replies are very pleasing in conversation; but they frequently tend to raise envy in some of the company: but the narrative way neither raises this, nor any other evil passion, but keeps all the company nearly upon an equality, and, if judiciously managed, will at once entertain and improve them all." 10. GOOD TEMPER SHOULD BE CULTIVATED by every mistress, as upon it the welfare of the household may be said to turn; indeed, its influence can hardly be over-estimated, as it has the effect of moulding the characters of those around her, and of acting most beneficially on the happiness of the domestic circle. Every head of a household should strive to be cheerful, and should never fail to show a deep interest in all that appertains to the well-being of those who claim the protection of her roof. Gentleness, not partial and temporary, but universal and regular, should pervade her conduct; for where such a spirit is habitually manifested, it not only delights her children, but makes her domestics attentive and respectful; her visitors are also pleased by it, and their happiness is increased. 11. ON THE IMPORTANT SUBJECT OF DRESS AND FASHION we cannot do better than quote an opinion from the eighth volume of the "Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine." The writer there says, "Let people write, talk, lecture, satirize, as they may, it cannot be denied that, whatever is the prevailing mode in attire, let it intrinsically be ever so absurd, it will never _look_ as ridiculous as another, or as any other, which, however convenient, comfortable, or even becoming, is totally opposite in style to that generally worn." 12. IN PURCHASING ARTICLES OF WEARING APPAREL, whether it be a silk dress, a bonnet, shawl, or riband, it is well for the buyer to consider three things: I. That it be not too expensive for her purse. II. That its colour harmonize with her complexion, and its size and pattern with her figure. III. That its tint allow of its being worn with the other garments she possesses. The quaint Fuller observes, that the good wife is none of our dainty dames, who love to appear in a variety of suits every day new, as if a gown, like a stratagem in war, were to be used but once. But our good wife sets up a sail according to the keel of her husband's estate; and, if of high parentage, she doth not so remember what she was by birth, that she forgets what she is by match. To _Brunettes_, or those ladies having dark complexions, silks of a grave hue are adapted. For _Blondes_, or those having fair complexions, lighter colours are preferable, as the richer, deeper hues are too overpowering for the latter. The colours which go best together are green with violet; gold-colour with dark crimson or lilac; pale blue with scarlet; pink with black or white; and gray with scarlet or pink. A cold colour generally requires a warm tint to give life to it. Gray and pale blue, for instance, do not combine well, both being cold colours. 13. THE DRESS OF THE MISTRESS should always be adapted to her circumstances, and be varied with different occasions. Thus, at breakfast she should be attired in a very neat and simple manner, wearing no ornaments. If this dress should decidedly pertain only to the breakfast-hour, and be specially suited for such domestic occupations as usually follow that meal, then it would be well to exchange it before the time for receiving visitors, if the mistress be in the habit of doing so. It is still to be remembered, however, that, in changing the dress, jewellery and ornaments are not to be worn until the full dress for dinner is assumed. Further information and hints on the subject of the toilet will appear under the department of the "LADY'S-MAID." The advice of Polonius to his son Laertes, in Shakspeare's tragedy of "Hamlet," is most excellent; and although given to one of the male sex, will equally apply to a "fayre ladye:"-- "Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man." 14. CHARITY AND BENEVOLENCE ARE DUTIES which a mistress owes to herself as well as to her fellow-creatures; and there is scarcely any income so small, but something may be spared from it, even if it be but "the widow's mite." It is to be always remembered, however, that it is the _spirit_ of charity which imparts to the gift a value far beyond its actual amount, and is by far its better part. True Charity, a plant divinely nursed, Fed by the love from which it rose at first, Thrives against hope, and, in the rudest scene, Storms but enliven its unfading green; Exub'rant is the shadow it supplies, Its fruit on earth, its growth above the skies. Visiting the houses of the poor is the only practical way really to understand the actual state of each family; and although there may be difficulties in following out this plan in the metropolis and other large cities, yet in country towns and rural districts these objections do not obtain. Great advantages may result from visits paid to the poor; for there being, unfortunately, much ignorance, generally, amongst them with respect to all household knowledge, there will be opportunities for advising and instructing them, in a pleasant and unobtrusive manner, in cleanliness, industry, cookery, and good management. 15. IN MARKETING, THAT THE BEST ARTICLES ARE THE CHEAPEST, may be laid down as a rule; and it is desirable, unless an experienced and confidential housekeeper be kept, that the mistress should herself purchase all provisions and stores needed for the house. If the mistress be a young wife, and not accustomed to order "things for the house," a little practice and experience will soon teach her who are the best tradespeople to deal with, and what are the best provisions to buy. Under each particular head of FISH, MEAT, POULTRY, GAME, &c., will be described the proper means of ascertaining the quality of these comestibles. 16. A HOUSEKEEPING ACCOUNT-BOOK should invariably be kept, and kept punctually and precisely. The plan for keeping household accounts, which we should recommend, would be to make an entry, that is, write down into a daily diary every amount paid on that particular day, be it ever so small; then, at the end of the month, let these various payments be ranged under their specific heads of Butcher, Baker, &c.; and thus will be seen the proportions paid to each tradesman, and any one month's expenses may be contrasted with another. The housekeeping accounts should be balanced not less than once a month; so that you may see that the money you have in hand tallies with your account of it in your diary. Judge Haliburton never wrote truer words than when he said, "No man is rich whose expenditure exceeds his means, and no one is poor whose incomings exceed his outgoings." When, in a large establishment, a housekeeper is kept, it will be advisable for the mistress to examine her accounts regularly. Then any increase of expenditure which may be apparent, can easily be explained, and the housekeeper will have the satisfaction of knowing whether her efforts to manage her department well and economically, have been successful. 17. ENGAGING DOMESTICS is one of those duties in which the judgment of the mistress must be keenly exercised. There are some respectable registry-offices, where good servants may sometimes be hired; but the plan rather to be recommended is, for the mistress to make inquiry amongst her circle of friends and acquaintances, and her tradespeople. The latter generally know those in their neighbourhood, who are wanting situations, and will communicate with them, when a personal interview with some of them will enable the mistress to form some idea of the characters of the applicants, and to suit herself accordingly. We would here point out an error--and a grave one it is--into which some mistresses fall. They do not, when engaging a servant, expressly tell her all the duties which she will be expected to perform. This is an act of omission severely to be reprehended. Every portion of work which the maid will have to do, should be plainly stated by the mistress, and understood by the servant. If this plan is not carefully adhered to, domestic contention is almost certain to ensue, and this may not be easily settled; so that a change of servants, which is so much to be deprecated, is continually occurring. 18. IN OBTAINING A SERVANT'S CHARACTER, it is not well to be guided by a written one from some unknown quarter; but it is better to have an interview, if at all possible, with the former mistress. By this means you will be assisted in your decision of the suitableness of the servant for your place, from the appearance of the lady and the state of her house. Negligence and want of cleanliness in her and her household generally, will naturally lead you to the conclusion, that her servant has suffered from the influence of the bad example. The proper course to pursue in order to obtain a personal interview with the lady is this:--The servant in search of the situation must be desired to see her former mistress, and ask her to be kind enough to appoint a time, convenient to herself, when you may call on her; this proper observance of courtesy being necessary to prevent any unseasonable intrusion on the part of a stranger. Your first questions should be relative to the honesty and general morality of her former servant; and if no objection is stated in that respect, her other qualifications are then to be ascertained. Inquiries should be very minute, so that you may avoid disappointment and trouble, by knowing the weak points of your domestic. 19. THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS is of the highest possible moment, as well to the mistress as to the domestics themselves. On the head of the house the latter will naturally fix their attention; and if they perceive that the mistress's conduct is regulated by high and correct principles, they will not fail to respect her. If, also, a benevolent desire is shown to promote their comfort, at the same time that a steady performance of their duty is exacted, then their respect will not be unmingled with affection, and they will be still more solicitous to continue to deserve her favour. 20. IN GIVING A CHARACTER, it is scarcely necessary to say that the mistress should be guided by a sense of strict justice. It is not fair for one lady to recommend to another, a servant she would not keep herself. The benefit, too, to the servant herself is of small advantage; for the failings which she possesses will increase if suffered to be indulged with impunity. It is hardly necessary to remark, on the other hand, that no angry feelings on the part of a mistress towards her late servant, should ever be allowed, in the slightest degree, to influence her, so far as to induce her to disparage her maid's character. 21. THE FOLLOWING TABLE OF THE AVERAGE YEARLY WAGES paid to domestics, with the various members of the household placed in the order in which they are usually ranked, will serve as a guide to regulate the expenditure of an establishment:-- When not found in When found in Livery. Livery. The House Steward From £10 to £80 -- The Valet " 25 to 50 From £20 to £30 The Butler " 25 to 50 -- The Cook " 20 to 40 -- The Gardener " 20 to 40 -- The Footman " 20 to 40 " 15 to 25 The Under Butler " 15 to 30 " 15 to 25 The Coachman -- " 20 to 35 The Groom " 15 to 30 " 12 to 20 The Under Footman -- " 12 to 20 The Page or Footboy " 8 to 18 " 6 to 14 The Stableboy " 6 to 12 -- When no extra When an extra allowance is made for allowance is made for Tea, Sugar, and Beer. Tea, Sugar, and Beer. The Housekeeper From £20 to £15 From £18 to £40 The Lady's-maid " 12 to 25 " 10 to 20 The Head Nurse " 15 to 30 " 13 to 26 The Cook " 11 to 30 " 12 to 26 The Upper Housemaid " 12 to 20 " 10 to 17 The Upper Laundry-maid " 12 to 18 " 10 to 15 The Maid-of-all-work " 9 to 14 " 7-1/2 to 11 The Under Housemaid " 8 to 12 " 6-1/2 to 10 The Still-room Maid " 9 to 14 " 8 to 13 The Nursemaid " 8 to 12 " 5 to 10 The Under Laundry-maid " 9 to 11 " 8 to 12 The Kitchen-maid " 9 to 14 " 8 to 12 The Scullery-maid " 5 to 9 " 4 to 8 These quotations of wages are those usually given in or near the metropolis; but, of course, there are many circumstances connected with locality, and also having reference to the long service on the one hand, or the inexperience on the other, of domestics, which may render the wages still higher or lower than those named above. All the domestics mentioned in the above table would enter into the establishment of a wealthy nobleman. The number of servants, of course, would become smaller in proportion to the lesser size of the establishment; and we may here enumerate a scale of servants suited to various incomes, commencing with-- About £1,000 a year--A cook, upper housemaid, nursemaid, under housemaid, and a man servant. About £750 a year--A cook, housemaid, nursemaid, and footboy. About £500 a year--A cook, housemaid, and nursemaid. About £300 a year--A maid-of-all-work and nursemaid. About £200 or £150 a year--A maid-of-all-work (and girl occasionally). 22. HAVING THUS INDICATED some of the more general duties of the mistress, relative to the moral government of her household, we will now give a few specific instructions on matters having a more practical relation to the position which she is supposed to occupy in the eye of the world. To do this the more clearly, we will begin with her earliest duties, and take her completely through the occupations of a day. 23. HAVING RISEN EARLY, as we have already advised (_see_ 3), and having given due attention to the bath, and made a careful toilet, it will be well at once to see that the children have received their proper ablutions, and are in every way clean and comfortable. The first meal of the day, breakfast, will then be served, at which all the family should be punctually present, unless illness, or other circumstances, prevent. 24. AFTER BREAKFAST IS OVER, it will be well for the mistress to make a round of the kitchen and other offices, to see that all are in order, and that the morning's work has been properly performed by the various domestics. The orders for the day should then be given, and any questions which the domestics desire to ask, respecting their several departments, should be answered, and any special articles they may require, handed to them from the store-closet. In those establishments where there is a housekeeper, it will not be so necessary for the mistress, personally, to perform the above-named duties. 25. AFTER THIS GENERAL SUPERINTENDENCE of her servants, the mistress, if a mother of a young family, may devote herself to the instruction of some of its younger members, or to the examination of the state of their wardrobe, leaving the later portion of the morning for reading, or for some amusing recreation. "Recreation," says Bishop Hall, "is intended to the mind as whetting is to the scythe, to sharpen the edge of it, which would otherwise grow dull and blunt. He, therefore, that spends his whole time in recreation is ever whetting, never mowing; his grass may grow and his steed starve; as, contrarily, he that always toils and never recreates, is ever mowing, never whetting, labouring much to little purpose. As good no scythe as no edge. Then only doth the work go forward, when the scythe is so seasonably and moderately whetted that it may cut, and so cut, that it may have the help of sharpening." Unless the means of the mistress be very circumscribed, and she be obliged to devote a great deal of her time to the making of her children's clothes, and other economical pursuits, it is right that she should give some time to the pleasures of literature, the innocent delights of the garden, and to the improvement of any special abilities for music, painting, and other elegant arts, which she may, happily, possess. 26. THESE DUTIES AND PLEASURES BEING PERFORMED AND ENJOYED, the hour of luncheon will have arrived. This is a very necessary meal between an early breakfast and a late dinner, as a healthy person, with good exercise, should have a fresh supply of food once in four hours. It should be a light meal; but its solidity must, of course, be, in some degree, proportionate to the time it is intended to enable you to wait for your dinner, and the amount of exercise you take in the mean time. At this time, also, the servants' dinner will be served. In those establishments where an early dinner is served, that will, of course, take the place of the luncheon. In many houses, where a nursery dinner is provided for the children and about one o'clock, the mistress and the elder portion of the family make their luncheon at the same time from the same joint, or whatever may be provided. A mistress will arrange, according to circumstances, the serving of the meal; but the more usual plan is for the lady of the house to have the joint brought to her table, and afterwards carried to the nursery. 27. AFTER LUNCHEON, MORNING CALLS AND VISITS may be made and received. These may be divided under three heads: those of ceremony, friendship, and congratulation or condolence. Visits of ceremony, or courtesy, which occasionally merge into those of friendship, are to be paid under various circumstances. Thus, they are uniformly required after dining at a friend's house, or after a ball, picnic, or any other party. These visits should be short, a stay of from fifteen to twenty minutes being quite sufficient. A lady paying a visit may remove her boa or neckerchief; but neither her shawl nor bonnet. When other visitors are announced, it is well to retire as soon as possible, taking care to let it appear that their arrival is not the cause. When they are quietly seated, and the bustle of their entrance is over, rise from your chair, taking a kind leave of the hostess, and bowing politely to the guests. Should you call at an inconvenient time, not having ascertained the luncheon hour, or from any other inadvertence, retire as soon as possible, without, however, showing that you feel yourself an intruder. It is not difficult for any well-bred or even good-tempered person, to know what to say on such an occasion, and, on politely withdrawing, a promise can be made to call again, if the lady you have called on, appear really disappointed. 28. IN PAYING VISITS OF FRIENDSHIP, it will not be so necessary to be guided by etiquette as in paying visits of ceremony; and if a lady be pressed by her friend to remove her shawl and bonnet, it can be done if it will not interfere with her subsequent arrangements. It is, however, requisite to call at suitable times, and to avoid staying too long, if your friend is engaged. The courtesies of society should ever be maintained, even in the domestic circle, and amongst the nearest friends. During these visits, the manners should be easy and cheerful, and the subjects of conversation such as may be readily terminated. Serious discussions or arguments are to be altogether avoided, and there is much danger and impropriety in expressing opinions of those persons and characters with whom, perhaps, there is but a slight acquaintance. (_See_ 6, 7, and 9.) It is not advisable, at any time, to take favourite dogs into another lady's drawing-room, for many persons have an absolute dislike to such animals; and besides this, there is always a chance of a breakage of some article occurring, through their leaping and bounding here and there, sometimes very much to the fear and annoyance of the hostess. Her children, also, unless they are particularly well-trained and orderly, and she is on exceedingly friendly terms with the hostess, should not accompany a lady in making morning calls. Where a lady, however, pays her visits in a carriage, the children can be taken in the vehicle, and remain in it until the visit is over. 29. FOR MORNING CALLS, it is well to be neatly attired; for a costume very different to that you generally wear, or anything approaching an evening dress, will be very much out of place. As a general rule, it may be said, both in reference to this and all other occasions, it is better to be under-dressed than over-dressed. A strict account should be kept of ceremonial visits, and notice how soon your visits have been returned. An opinion may thus be formed as to whether your frequent visits are, or are not, desirable. There are, naturally, instances when the circumstances of old age or ill health will preclude any return of a call; but when this is the case, it must not interrupt the discharge of the duty. 30. IN PAYING VISITS OF CONDOLENCE, it is to be remembered that they should be paid within a week after the event which occasions them. If the acquaintance, however, is but slight, then immediately after the family has appeared at public worship. A lady should send in her card, and if her friends be able to receive her, the visitor's manner and conversation should be subdued and in harmony with the character of her visit. Courtesy would dictate that a mourning card should be used, and that visitors, in paying condoling visits, should be dressed in black, either silk or plain-coloured apparel. Sympathy with the affliction of the family, is thus expressed, and these attentions are, in such cases, pleasing and soothing. In all these visits, if your acquaintance or friend be not at home, a card should be left. If in a carriage, the servant will answer your inquiry and receive your card; if paying your visits on foot, give your card to the servant in the hall, but leave to go in and rest should on no account be asked. The form of words, "Not at home," may be understood in different senses; but the only courteous way is to receive them as being perfectly true. You may imagine that the lady of the house is really at home, and that she would make an exception in your favour, or you may think that your acquaintance is not desired; but, in either case, not the slightest word is to escape you, which would suggest, on your part, such an impression. 31. IN RECEIVING MORNING CALLS, the foregoing description of the etiquette to be observed in paying them, will be of considerable service. It is to be added, however, that the occupations of drawing, music, or reading should be suspended on the entrance of morning visitors. If a lady, however, be engaged with light needlework, and none other is appropriate in the drawing-room, it may not be, under some circumstances, inconsistent with good breeding to quietly continue it during conversation, particularly if the visit be protracted, or the visitors be gentlemen. Formerly the custom was to accompany all visitors quitting the house to the door, and there take leave of them; but modern society, which has thrown off a great deal of this kind of ceremony, now merely requires that the lady of the house should rise from her seat, shake hands, or courtesy, in accordance with the intimacy she has with her guests, and ring the bell to summon the servant to attend them and open the door. In making a first call, either upon a newly-married couple, or persons newly arrived in the neighbourhood, a lady should leave her husband's card together with her own, at the same time, stating that the profession or business in which he is engaged has prevented him from having the pleasure of paying the visit, with her. It is a custom with many ladies, when on the eve of an absence from their neighbourhood, to leave or send their own and husband's cards, with the letters P. P. C. in the right-hand corner. These letters are the initials of the French words, "_Pour prendre congé_," meaning, "To take leave." 32. THE MORNING CALLS BEING PAID OR RECEIVED, and their etiquette properly attended to, the next great event of the day in most establishments is "The Dinner;" and we only propose here to make a few general remarks on this important topic, as, in future pages, the whole "Art of Dining" will be thoroughly considered, with reference to its economy, comfort, and enjoyment. 33. IN GIVING OR ACCEPTING AN INVITATION FOR DINNER, the following is the form of words generally made use of. They, however, can be varied in proportion to the intimacy or position of the hosts and guests:-- Mr. and Mrs. A---- present their compliments to Mr. and Mrs. B----, and request the honour, [or hope to have the pleasure] of their company to dinner on Wednesday, the 6th of December next. A---- STREET, _November 13th, 1859. R. S. V. P._ The letters in the corner imply "_Répondez, s'il vous plaît;_" meaning, "an answer will oblige." The reply, accepting the invitation, is couched in the following terms:-- Mr. and Mrs. B---- present their compliments to Mr. and Mrs. A---, and will do themselves the honour of, [or will have much pleasure in] accepting their kind invitation to dinner on the 6th of December next. B---- SQUARE, _November 18th, 1859._ Cards, or invitations for a dinner-party, should be issued a fortnight or three weeks (sometimes even a month) beforehand, and care should be taken by the hostess, in the selection of the invited guests, that they should be suited to each other. Much also of the pleasure of a dinner-party will depend on the arrangement of the guests at table, so as to form a due admixture of talkers and listeners, the grave and the gay. If an invitation to dinner is accepted, the guests should be punctual, and the mistress ready in her drawing-room to receive them. At some periods it has been considered fashionable to come late to dinner, but lately _nous avons changé tout cela_. 34. THE HALF-HOUR BEFORE DINNER has always been considered as the great ordeal through which the mistress, in giving a dinner-party, will either pass with flying colours, or, lose many of her laurels. The anxiety to receive her guests,--her hope that all will be present in due time,--her trust in the skill of her cook, and the attention of the other domestics, all tend to make these few minutes a trying time. The mistress, however, must display no kind of agitation, but show her tact in suggesting light and cheerful subjects of conversation, which will be much aided by the introduction of any particular new book, curiosity of art, or article of vertu, which may pleasantly engage the attention of the company. "Waiting for Dinner," however, is a trying time, and there are few who have not felt-- "How sad it is to sit and pine, The long _half-hour_ before we dine! Upon our watches oft to look, Then wonder at the clock and cook, * * * * * "And strive to laugh in spite of Fate! But laughter forced soon quits the room, And leaves it in its former gloom. But lo! the dinner now appears, The object of our hopes and fears, The end of all our pain!" In giving an entertainment of this kind, the mistress should remember that it is her duty to make her guests feel happy, comfortable, and quite at their ease; and the guests should also consider that they have come to the house of their hostess to be happy. Thus an opportunity is given to all for innocent enjoyment and intellectual improvement, when also acquaintances may be formed that may prove invaluable through life, and information gained that will enlarge the mind. Many celebrated men and women have been great talkers; and, amongst others, the genial Sir Walter Scott, who spoke freely to every one, and a favourite remark of whom it was, that he never did so without learning something he didn't know before. 35. DINNER BEING ANNOUNCED, the host offers his arm to, and places on his right hand at the dinner-table, the lady to whom he desires to pay most respect, either on account of her age, position, or from her being the greatest stranger in the party. If this lady be married and her husband present, the latter takes the hostess to her place at table, and seats himself at her right hand. The rest of the company follow in couples, as specified by the master and mistress of the house, arranging the party according to their rank and other circumstances which may be known to the host and hostess. It will be found of great assistance to the placing of a party at the dinner-table, to have the names of the guests neatly (and correctly) written on small cards, and placed at that part of the table where it is desired they should sit. With respect to the number of guests, it has often been said, that a private dinner-party should consist of not less than the number of the Graces, or more than that of the Muses. A party of ten or twelve is, perhaps, in a general way, sufficient to enjoy themselves and be enjoyed. White kid gloves are worn by ladies at dinner-parties, but should be taken off before the business of dining commences. 36. THE GUESTS BEING SEATED AT THE DINNER-TABLE, the lady begins to help the soup, which is handed round, commencing with the gentleman on her right and on her left, and continuing in the same order till all are served. It is generally established as a rule, not to ask for soup or fish twice, as, in so doing, part of the company may be kept waiting too long for the second course, when, perhaps, a little revenge is taken by looking at the awkward consumer of a second portion. This rule, however, may, under various circumstances, not be considered as binding. It is not usual, where taking wine is _en règle_, for a gentleman to ask a lady to take wine until the fish or soup is finished, and then the gentleman honoured by sitting on the right of the hostess, may politely inquire if she will do him the honour of taking wine with him. This will act as a signal to the rest of the company, the gentleman of the house most probably requesting the same pleasure of the ladies at his right and left. At many tables, however, the custom or fashion of drinking wine in this manner, is abolished, and the servant fills the glasses of the guests with the various wines suited to the course which is in progress. 37. WHEN DINNER IS FINISHED, THE DESSERT is placed on the table, accompanied with finger-glasses. It is the custom of some gentlemen to wet a corner of the napkin; but the hostess, whose behaviour will set the tone to all the ladies present, will merely wet the tips of her fingers, which will serve all the purposes required. The French and other continentals have a habit of gargling the mouth; but it is a custom which no English gentlewoman should, in the slightest degree, imitate. 38. WHEN FRUIT HAS BEEN TAKEN, and a glass or two of wine passed round, the time will have arrived when the hostess will rise, and thus give the signal for the ladies to leave the gentlemen, and retire to the drawing-room. The gentlemen of the party will rise at the same time, and he who is nearest the door, will open it for the ladies, all remaining courteously standing until the last lady has withdrawn. Dr. Johnson has a curious paragraph on the effects of a dinner on men. "Before dinner," he says, "men meet with great inequality of understanding; and those who are conscious of their inferiority have the modesty not to talk. When they have drunk wine, every man feels himself happy, and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous; but he is not improved, he is only not sensible of his defects." This is rather severe, but there may be truth in it. In former times, when the bottle circulated freely amongst the guests, it was necessary for the ladies to retire earlier than they do at present, for the gentlemen of the company soon became unfit to conduct themselves with that decorum which is essential in the presence of ladies. Thanks, however, to the improvements in modern society, and the high example shown to the nation by its most illustrious personages, temperance is, in these happy days, a striking feature in the character of a gentleman. Delicacy of conduct towards the female sex has increased with the esteem in which they are now universally held, and thus, the very early withdrawing of the ladies from the dining-room is to be deprecated. A lull in the conversation will seasonably indicate the moment for the ladies' departure. 39. AFTER-DINNER INVITATIONS MAY BE GIVEN; by which we wish to be understood, invitations for the evening. The time of the arrival of these visitors will vary according to their engagements, or sometimes will be varied in obedience to the caprices of fashion. Guests invited for the evening are, however, generally considered at liberty to arrive whenever it will best suit themselves,--usually between nine and twelve, unless earlier hours are specifically named. By this arrangement, many fashionable people and others, who have numerous engagements to fulfil, often contrive to make their appearance at two or three parties in the course of one evening. 40. THE ETIQUETTE OF THE DINNER-PARTY TABLE being disposed of, let us now enter slightly into that of an evening party or ball. The invitations issued and accepted for either of these, will be written in the same style as those already described for a dinner-party. They should be sent out _at least_ three weeks before the day fixed for the event, and should be replied to within a week of their receipt. By attending to these courtesies, the guests will have time to consider their engagements and prepare their dresses, and the hostess will, also, know what will be the number of her party. If the entertainment is to be simply an evening party, this must be specified on the card or note of invitation. Short or verbal invitations, except where persons are exceedingly intimate, or are very near relations, are very far from proper, although, of course, in this respect and in many other respects, very much always depends on the manner in which the invitation is given. True politeness, however, should be studied even amongst the nearest friends and relations; for the mechanical forms of good breeding are of great consequence, and too much familiarity may have, for its effect, the destruction of friendship. 41. AS THE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ARRIVE, each should be shown to a room exclusively provided for their reception; and in that set apart for the ladies, attendants should be in waiting to assist in uncloaking, and helping to arrange the hair and toilet of those who require it. It will be found convenient, in those cases where the number of guests is large, to provide numbered tickets, so that they can be attached to the cloaks and shawls of each lady, a duplicate of which should be handed to the guest. Coffee is sometimes provided in this, or an ante-room, for those who would like to partake of it. 42. AS THE VISITORS ARE ANNOUNCED BY THE SERVANT, it is not necessary for the lady of the house to advance each time towards the door, but merely to rise from her seat to receive their courtesies and congratulations. If, indeed, the hostess wishes to show particular favour to some peculiarly honoured guests, she may introduce them to others, whose acquaintance she may imagine will be especially suitable and agreeable. It is very often the practice of the master of the house to introduce one gentleman to another, but occasionally the lady performs this office; when it will, of course, be polite for the persons thus introduced to take their seats together for the time being. The custom of non-introduction is very much in vogue in many houses, and guests are thus left to discover for themselves the position and qualities of the people around them. The servant, indeed, calls out the names of all the visitors as they arrive, but, in many instances, mispronounces them; so that it will not be well to follow this information, as if it were an unerring guide. In our opinion, it is a cheerless and depressing custom, although, in thus speaking, we do not allude to the large assemblies of the aristocracy, but to the smaller parties of the middle classes. 43. A SEPARATE ROOM OR CONVENIENT BUFFET should be appropriated for refreshments, and to which the dancers may retire; and cakes and biscuits, with wine negus, lemonade, and ices, handed round. A supper is also mostly provided at the private parties of the middle classes; and this requires, on the part of the hostess, a great deal of attention and supervision. It usually takes place between the first and second parts of the programme of the dances, of which there should be several prettily written or printed copies distributed about the ball-room. _In private parties_, a lady is not to refuse the invitation of a gentleman to dance, unless she be previously engaged. The hostess must be supposed to have asked to her house only those persons whom she knows to be perfectly respectable and of unblemished character, as well as pretty equal in position; and thus, to decline the offer of any gentleman present, would be a tacit reflection on the master and mistress of the house. It may be mentioned here, more especially for the young who will read this book, that introductions at balls or evening parties, cease with the occasion that calls them forth, no introduction, at these times, giving a gentleman a right to address, afterwards, a lady. She is, consequently, free, next morning, to pass her partner at a ball of the previous evening without the slightest recognition. 44. THE BALL IS GENERALLY OPENED, that is, the first place in the first quadrille is occupied, by the lady of the house. When anything prevents this, the host will usually lead off the dance with the lady who is either the highest in rank, or the greatest stranger. It will be well for the hostess, even if she be very partial to the amusement, and a graceful dancer, not to participate in it to any great extent, lest her lady guests should have occasion to complain of her monopoly of the gentlemen, and other causes of neglect. A few dances will suffice to show her interest in the entertainment, without unduly trenching on the attention due to her guests. In all its parts a ball should be perfect,-- "The music, and the banquet, and the wine; The garlands, the rose-odours, and the flowers." The hostess or host, during the progress of a ball, will courteously accost and chat with their friends, and take care that the ladies are furnished with seats, and that those who wish to dance are provided with partners. A gentle hint from the hostess, conveyed in a quiet ladylike manner, that certain ladies have remained unengaged during several dances, is sure not to be neglected by any gentleman. Thus will be studied the comfort and enjoyment of the guests, and no lady, in leaving the house, will be able to feel the chagrin and disappointment of not having been invited to "stand up" in a dance during the whole of the evening. 45. WHEN ANY OF THE CARRIAGES OF THE GUESTS ARE ANNOUNCED, or the time for their departure arrived, they should make a slight intimation to the hostess, without, however, exciting any observation, that they are about to depart. If this cannot be done, however, without creating too much bustle, it will be better for the visitors to retire quietly without taking their leave. During the course of the week, the hostess will expect to receive from every guest a call, where it is possible, or cards expressing the gratification experienced from her entertainment. This attention is due to every lady for the pains and trouble she has been at, and tends to promote social, kindly feelings. 46. HAVING THUS DISCOURSED of parties of pleasure, it will be an interesting change to return to the more domestic business of the house, although all the details we have been giving of dinner-parties, balls, and the like, appertain to the department of the mistress. Without a knowledge of the etiquette to be observed on these occasions, a mistress would be unable to enjoy and appreciate those friendly pleasant meetings which give, as it were, a fillip to life, and make the quiet happy home of an English gentlewoman appear the more delightful and enjoyable. In their proper places, all that is necessary to be known respecting the dishes and appearance of the breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper tables, will be set forth in this work. 47. A FAMILY DINNER AT HOME, compared with either giving or going to a dinner-party, is, of course, of much more frequent occurrence, and many will say, of much greater importance. Both, however, have to be considered with a view to their nicety and enjoyment; and the latter more particularly with reference to economy. These points will be especially noted in the following pages on "Household Cookery." Here we will only say, that for both mistress and servants, as well in large as small households, it will be found, by far, the better plan, to cook and serve the dinner, and to lay the tablecloth and the sideboard, with the same cleanliness, neatness, and scrupulous exactness, whether it be for the mistress herself alone, a small family, or for "company." If this rule be strictly adhered to, all will find themselves increase in managing skill; whilst a knowledge of their daily duties will become familiar, and enable them to meet difficult occasions with ease, and overcome any amount of obstacles. 48. OF THE MANNER OF PASSING EVENINGS AT HOME, there is none pleasanter than in such recreative enjoyments as those which relax the mind from its severer duties, whilst they stimulate it with a gentle delight. Where there are young people forming a part of the evening circle, interesting and agreeable pastime should especially be promoted. It is of incalculable benefit to them that their homes should possess all the attractions of healthful amusement, comfort, and happiness; for if they do not find pleasure there, they will seek it elsewhere. It ought, therefore, to enter into the domestic policy of every parent, to make her children feel that home is the happiest place in the world; that to imbue them with this delicious home-feeling is one of the choicest gifts a parent can bestow. Light or fancy needlework often forms a portion of the evening's recreation for the ladies of the household, and this may be varied by an occasional game at chess or backgammon. It has often been remarked, too, that nothing is more delightful to the feminine members of a family, than the reading aloud of some good standard work or amusing publication. A knowledge of polite literature may be thus obtained by the whole family, especially if the reader is able and willing to explain the more difficult passages of the book, and expatiate on the wisdom and beauties it may contain. This plan, in a great measure, realizes the advice of Lord Bacon, who says, "Read not to contradict and refute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider." 49. IN RETIRING FOR THE NIGHT, it is well to remember that early rising is almost impossible, if late going to bed be the order, or rather disorder, of the house. The younger members of a family should go early and at regular hours to their beds, and the domestics as soon as possible after a reasonably appointed hour. Either the master or the mistress of a house should, after all have gone to their separate rooms, see that all is right with respect to the lights and fires below; and no servants should, on any account, be allowed to remain up after the heads of the house have retired. 50. HAVING THUS GONE FROM EARLY RISING TO EARLY RETIRING, there remain only now to be considered a few special positions respecting which the mistress of the house will be glad to receive some specific information. 51. WHEN A MISTRESS TAKES A HOUSE in a new locality, it will be etiquette for her to wait until the older inhabitants of the neighbourhood call upon her; thus evincing a desire, on their part, to become acquainted with the new comer. It may be, that the mistress will desire an intimate acquaintance with but few of her neighbours; but it is to be specially borne in mind that all visits, whether of ceremony, friendship, or condolence, should be punctiliously returned. 52. YOU MAY PERHAPS HAVE BEEN FAVOURED with letters of introduction from some of your friends, to persons living in the neighbourhood to which you have just come. In this case inclose the letter of introduction in an envelope with your card. Then, if the person, to whom it is addressed, calls in the course of a few days, the visit should be returned by you within the week, if possible. Any breach of etiquette, in this respect, will not readily be excused. In the event of your being invited to dinner under the above circumstances, nothing but necessity should prevent you from accepting the invitation. If, however, there is some distinct reason why you cannot accept, let it be stated frankly and plainly, for politeness and truthfulness should be ever allied. An opportunity should, also, be taken to call in the course of a day or two, in order to politely express your regret and disappointment at not having been able to avail yourself of their kindness. 53. IN GIVING A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION, it should always be handed to your friend, unsealed. Courtesy dictates this, as the person whom you are introducing would, perhaps, wish to know in what manner he or she was spoken of. Should you _receive_ a letter from a friend, introducing to you any person known to and esteemed by the writer, the letter should be immediately acknowledged, and your willingness expressed to do all in your power to carry out his or her wishes. 54. SUCH ARE THE ONEROUS DUTIES which enter into the position of the mistress of a house, and such are, happily, with a slight but continued attention, of by no means difficult performance. She ought always to remember that she is the first and the last, the Alpha and the Omega in the government of her establishment; and that it is by her conduct that its whole internal policy is regulated. She is, therefore, a person of far more importance in a community than she usually thinks she is. On her pattern her daughters model themselves; by her counsels they are directed; through her virtues all are honoured;--"her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband, also, and he praiseth her." Therefore, let each mistress always remember her responsible position, never approving a mean action, nor speaking an unrefined word. Let her conduct be such that her inferiors may respect her, and such as an honourable and right-minded man may look for in his wife and the mother of his children. Let her think of the many compliments and the sincere homage that have been paid to her sex by the greatest philosophers and writers, both in ancient and modern times. Let her not forget that she has to show herself worthy of Campbell's compliment when he said,-- "The world was sad! the garden was a wild! And man the hermit sigh'd, till _woman_ smiled." Let her prove herself, then, the happy companion of man, and able to take unto herself the praises of the pious prelate, Jeremy Taylor, who says,--"A good wife is Heaven's last best gift to man,--his angel and minister of graces innumerable,--his gem of many virtues,--his casket of jewels--her voice is sweet music--her smiles his brightest day;--her kiss, the guardian of his innocence;--her arms, the pale of his safety, the balm of his health, the balsam of his life;--her industry, his surest wealth;--her economy, his safest steward;--her lips, his faithful counsellors;--her bosom, the softest pillow of his cares; and her prayers, the ablest advocates of Heaven's blessings on his head." Cherishing, then, in her breast the respected utterances of the good and the great, let the mistress of every house rise to the responsibility of its management; so that, in doing her duty to all around her, she may receive the genuine reward of respect, love, and affection! _Note_.--Many mistresses have experienced the horrors of house-hunting, and it is well known that "three removes are as good (or bad, rather) as a fire." Nevertheless, it being quite evident that we must, in these days at least, live in houses, and are sometimes obliged to change our residences, it is well to consider some of the conditions which will add to, or diminish, the convenience and comfort of our homes. Although the choice of a house must be dependent on so many different circumstances with different people, that to give any specific directions on this head would be impossible and useless; yet it will be advantageous, perhaps, to many, if we point out some of those general features as to locality, soil, aspect, &c., to which the attention of all house-takers should be carefully directed. Regarding the locality, we may say, speaking now more particularly of a town house, that it is very important to the health and comfort of a family, that the neighbourhood of all factories of any kind, producing unwholesome effluvia or smells, should be strictly avoided. Neither is it well to take a house in the immediate vicinity of where a noisy trade is carried on, as it is unpleasant to the feelings, and tends to increase any existing irritation of the system. Referring to soils; it is held as a rule, that a gravel soil is superior to any other, as the rain drains through it very quickly, and it is consequently drier and less damp than clay, upon which water rests a far longer time. A clay country, too, is not so pleasant for walking exercise as one in which gravel predominates. The aspect of the house should be well considered, and it should be borne in mind that the more sunlight that comes into the house, the healthier is the habitation. The close, fetid smell which assails one on entering a narrow court, or street, in towns, is to be assigned to the want of light, and, consequently, air. A house with a south or south-west aspect, is lighter, warmer, drier, and consequently more healthy, than one facing the north or north-east. Great advances have been made, during the last few years, in the principles of sanitary knowledge, and one most essential point to be observed in reference to a house, is its "drainage," as it has been proved in an endless number of cases, that bad or defective drainage is as certain to destroy health as the taking of poisons. This arises from its injuriously affecting the atmosphere; thus rendering the air we breathe unwholesome and deleterious. Let it be borne in mind, then, that unless a house is effectually drained, the health of its inhabitants is sure to suffer; and they will be susceptible of ague, rheumatism, diarrhoea, fevers, and cholera. We now come to an all-important point,--that of the water supply. The value of this necessary article has also been lately more and more recognized in connection with the question of health and life; and most houses are well supplied with every convenience connected with water. Let it, however, be well understood, that no house, however suitable in other respects, can be desirable, if this grand means of health and comfort is, in the slightest degree, scarce or impure. No caution can be too great to see that it is pure and good, as well as plentiful; for, knowing, as we do, that not a single part of our daily food is prepared without it, the importance of its influence on the health of the inmates of a house cannot be over-rated. Ventilation is another feature which must not be overlooked. In a general way, enough of air is admitted by the cracks round the doors and windows; but if this be not the case, the chimney will smoke; and other plans, such as the placing of a plate of finely-perforated zinc in the upper part of the window, must be used. Cold air should never be admitted under the doors, or at the bottom of a room, unless it be close to the fire or stove; for it will flow along the floor towards the fireplace, and thus leave the foul air in the upper part of the room, unpurified, cooling, at the same time, unpleasantly and injuriously, the feet and legs of the inmates. The rent of a house, it has been said, should not exceed one-eighth of the whole income of its occupier; and, as a general rule, we are disposed to assent to this estimate, although there may be many circumstances which would not admit of its being considered infallible. [Illustration] CHAPTER II. THE HOUSEKEEPER. 55. AS SECOND IN COMMAND IN THE HOUSE, except in large establishments, where there is a house steward, the housekeeper must consider herself as the immediate representative of her mistress, and bring, to the management of the household, all those qualities of honesty, industry, and vigilance, in the same degree as if she were at the head of her _own_ family. Constantly on the watch to detect any wrong-doing on the part of any of the domestics, she will overlook all that goes on in the house, and will see that every department is thoroughly attended to, and that the servants are comfortable, at the same time that their various duties are properly performed. Cleanliness, punctuality, order, and method, are essentials in the character of a good housekeeper. Without the first, no household can be said to be well managed. The second is equally all-important; for those who are under the housekeeper will take their "cue" from her; and in the same proportion as punctuality governs her movements, so will it theirs. Order, again, is indispensable; for by it we wish to be understood that "there should be a place for everything, and everything in its place." Method, too, is most necessary; for when the work is properly contrived, and each part arranged in regular succession, it will be done more quickly and more effectually. 56. A NECESSARY QUALIFICATION FOR A HOUSEKEEPER is, that she should thoroughly understand accounts. She will have to write in her books an accurate registry of all sums paid for any and every purpose, all the current expenses of the house, tradesmen's bills, and other extraneous matter. As we have mentioned under the head of the Mistress (_see_ 16), a housekeeper's accounts should be periodically balanced, and examined by the head of the house. Nothing tends more to the satisfaction of both employer and employed, than this arrangement. "Short reckonings make long friends," stands good in this case, as in others. It will be found an excellent plan to take an account of every article which comes into the house connected with housekeeping, and is not paid for at the time. The book containing these entries can then be compared with the bills sent in by the various tradesmen, so that any discrepancy can be inquired into and set right. An intelligent housekeeper will, by this means, too, be better able to judge of the average consumption of each article by the household; and if that quantity be, at any time, exceeded, the cause may be discovered and rectified, if it proceed from waste or carelessness. 57. ALTHOUGH IN THE DEPARTMENT OF THE COOK, the housekeeper does not generally much interfere, yet it is necessary that she should possess a good knowledge of the culinary art, as, in many instances, it may be requisite for her to take the superintendence of the kitchen. As a rule, it may be stated, that the housekeeper, in those establishments where there is no house steward or man cook, undertakes the preparation of the confectionary, attends to the preserving and pickling of fruits and vegetables; and, in a general way, to the more difficult branches of the art of cookery. Much of these arrangements will depend, however, on the qualifications of the cook; for instance, if she be an able artiste, there will be but little necessity for the housekeeper to interfere, except in the already noticed articles of confectionary, &c. On the contrary, if the cook be not so clever an adept in her art, then it will be requisite for the housekeeper to give more of her attention to the business of the kitchen, than in the former case. It will be one of the duties of the housekeeper to attend to the marketing, in the absence of either a house steward or man cook. 58. THE DAILY DUTIES OF A HOUSEKEEPER are regulated, in a great measure, by the extent of the establishment she superintends. She should, however, rise early, and see that all the domestics are duly performing their work, and that everything is progressing satisfactorily for the preparation of the breakfast for the household and family. After breakfast, which, in large establishments, she will take in the "housekeeper's room" with the lady's-maid, butler, and valet, and where they will be waited on by the still-room maid, she will, on various days set apart for each purpose, carefully examine the household linen, with a view to its being repaired, or to a further quantity being put in hand to be made; she will also see that the furniture throughout the house is well rubbed and polished; and will, besides, attend to all the necessary details of marketing and ordering goods from the tradesmen. The housekeeper's room is generally made use of by the lady's-maid, butler, and valet, who take there their breakfast, tea, and supper. The lady's-maid will also use this apartment as a sitting-room, when not engaged with her lady, or with some other duties, which would call her elsewhere. In different establishments, according to their size and the rank of the family, different rules of course prevail. For instance, in the mansions of those of very high rank, and where there is a house steward, there are two distinct tables kept, one in the steward's room for the principal members of the household, the other in the servants' hall, for the other domestics. At the steward's dinner-table, the steward and housekeeper preside; and here, also, are present the lady's-maid, butler, valet, and head gardener. Should any visitors be staying with the family, their servants, generally the valet and lady's-maid, will be admitted to the steward's table. 59. AFTER DINNER, the housekeeper, having seen that all the members of the establishment have regularly returned to their various duties, and that all the departments of the household are in proper working order, will have many important matters claiming her attention. She will, possibly, have to give the finishing touch to some article of confectionary, or be occupied with some of the more elaborate processes of the still-room. There may also be the dessert to arrange, ice-creams to make; and all these employments call for no ordinary degree of care, taste, and attention. The still-room was formerly much more in vogue than at present; for in days of "auld lang syne," the still was in constant requisition for the supply of sweet-flavoured waters for the purposes of cookery, scents and aromatic substances used in the preparation of the toilet, and cordials in cases of accidents and illness. There are some establishments, however, in which distillation is still carried on, and in these, the still-room maid has her old duties to perform. In a general way, however, this domestic is immediately concerned with the housekeeper. For the latter she lights the fire, dusts her room, prepares the breakfast-table, and waits at the different meals taken in the housekeeper's room (_see_ 58). A still-room maid may learn a very great deal of useful knowledge from her intimate connection with the housekeeper, and if she be active and intelligent, may soon fit herself for a better position in the household. 60. IN THE EVENING, the housekeeper will often busy herself with the necessary preparations for the next day's duties. Numberless small, but still important arrangements, will have to be made, so that everything may move smoothly. At times, perhaps, attention will have to be paid to the breaking of lump-sugar, the stoning of raisins, the washing, cleansing, and drying of currants, &c. The evening, too, is the best time for setting right her account of the expenditure, and duly writing a statement of moneys received and paid, and also for making memoranda of any articles she may require for her storeroom or other departments. Periodically, at some convenient time,--for instance, quarterly or half-yearly, it is a good plan for the housekeeper to make an inventory of everything she has under her care, and compare this with the lists of a former period; she will then be able to furnish a statement, if necessary, of the articles which, on account of time, breakage, loss, or other causes, it has been necessary to replace or replenish. 61. IN CONCLUDING THESE REMARKS on the duties of the housekeeper, we will briefly refer to the very great responsibility which attaches to her position. Like "Caesar's wife," she should be "above suspicion," and her honesty and sobriety unquestionable; for there are many temptations to which she is exposed. In a physical point of view, a housekeeper should be healthy and strong, and be particularly clean in her person, and her hands, although they may show a degree of roughness, from the nature of some of her employments, yet should have a nice inviting appearance. In her dealings with the various tradesmen, and in her behaviour to the domestics under her, the demeanour and conduct of the housekeeper should be such as, in neither case, to diminish, by an undue familiarity, her authority or influence. _Note_.--It will be useful for the mistress and housekeeper to know the best seasons for various occupations connected with Household Management; and we, accordingly, subjoin a few hints which we think will prove valuable. As, in the winter months, servants have much more to do, in consequence of the necessity there is to attend to the number of fires throughout the household, not much more than the ordinary every-day work can be attempted. In the summer, and when the absence of fires gives the domestics more leisure, then any extra work that is required, can be more easily performed. The spring is the usual period set apart for house-cleaning, and removing all the dust and dirt, which will necessarily, with the best of housewives, accumulate during the winter months, from the smoke of the coal, oil, gas, &c. This season is also well adapted for washing and bleaching linen, &c., as, the weather, not being then too hot for the exertions necessary in washing counterpanes, blankets, and heavy things in general, the work is better and more easily done than in the intense heats of July, which month some recommend for these purposes. Winter curtains should be taken down, and replaced by the summer white ones; and furs and woollen cloths also carefully laid by. The former should be well shaken and brushed, and then pinned upon paper or linen, with camphor to preserve them from the moths. Furs, &c., will be preserved in the same way. Included, under the general description of house-cleaning, must be understood, turning out all the nooks and corners of drawers, cupboards, lumber-rooms, lofts, &c., with a view of getting rid of all unnecessary articles, which only create dirt and attract vermin; sweeping of chimneys, taking up carpets, painting and whitewashing the kitchen and offices, papering rooms, when needed, and, generally speaking, the house putting on, with the approaching summer, a bright appearance, and a new face, in unison with nature. Oranges now should be preserved, and orange wine made. The summer will be found, as we have mentioned above, in consequence of the diminution of labour for the domestics, the best period for examining and repairing household linen, and for "putting to rights" all those articles which have received a large share of wear and tear during the dark winter days. In direct reference to this matter, we may here remark, that sheets should be turned "sides to middle" before they are allowed to get very thin. Otherwise, patching, which is uneconomical from the time it consumes, and is unsightly in point of appearance, will have to be resorted to. In June and July, gooseberries, currants, raspberries, strawberries, and other summer fruits, should be preserved, and jams and jellies made. In July, too, the making of walnut ketchup should be attended to, as the green walnuts will be approaching perfection for this purpose. Mixed pickles may also be now made, and it will be found a good plan to have ready a jar of pickle-juice (for the making of which all information will be given in future pages), into which to put occasionally some young French beans, cauliflowers, &c. In the early autumn, plums of various kinds are to be bottled and preserved, and jams and jellies made. A little later, tomato sauce, a most useful article to have by you, may be prepared; a supply of apples laid in, if you have a place to keep them, as also a few keeping pears and filberts. Endeavour to keep also a large vegetable marrow,--it will be found delicious in the winter. In October and November, it will be necessary to prepare for the cold weather, and get ready the winter clothing for the various members of the family. The white summer curtains will now be carefully put away, the fireplaces, grates, and chimneys looked to, and the House put in a thorough state of repair, so that no "loose tile" may, at a future day, interfere with your comfort, and extract something considerable from your pocket. In December, the principal household duty lies in preparing for the creature comforts of those near and dear to us, so as to meet old Christmas with a happy face, a contented mind, and a full larder; and in stoning the plums, washing the currants, cutting the citron, beating the eggs, and MIXING THE PUDDING, a housewife is not unworthily greeting the genial season of all good things. [Illustration] CHAPTER III. ARRANGEMENT AND ECONOMY OF THE KITCHEN. 62. "THE DISTRIBUTION OF A KITCHEN," says Count Rumford, the celebrated philosopher and physician, who wrote so learnedly on all subjects connected with domestic economy and architecture, "must always depend so much on local circumstances, that general rules can hardly be given respecting it; the principles, however, on which this distribution ought, in all cases, to be made, are simple and easy to be understood," and, in his estimation, these resolve themselves into symmetry of proportion in the building and convenience to the cook. The requisites of a good kitchen, however, demand something more special than is here pointed out. It must be remembered that it is the great laboratory of every household, and that much of the "weal or woe," as far as regards bodily health, depends upon the nature of the preparations concocted within its walls. A good kitchen, therefore, should be erected with a view to the following particulars. 1. Convenience of distribution in its parts, with largeness of dimension. 2. Excellence of light, height of ceiling, and good ventilation. 3. Easiness of access, without passing through the house. 4. Sufficiently remote from the principal apartments of the house, that the members, visitors, or guests of the family, may not perceive the odour incident to cooking, or hear the noise of culinary operations. 5. Plenty of fuel and water, which, with the scullery, pantry, and storeroom, should be so near it, as to offer the smallest possible trouble in reaching them. [Illustration: _Fig_. 1.] The kitchens of the Middle Ages, in England, are said to have been constructed after the fashion of those of the Romans. They were generally octagonal, with several fireplaces, but no chimneys; neither was there any wood admitted into the building. The accompanying cut, fig. 1, represents the turret which was erected on the top of the conical roof of the kitchen at Glastonbury Abbey, and which was perforated with holes to allow the smoke of the fire, as well as the steam from cooking, to escape. Some kitchens had funnels or vents below the eaves to let out the steam, which was sometimes considerable, as the Anglo-Saxons used their meat chiefly in a boiled state. From this circumstance, some of their large kitchens had four ranges, comprising a boiling-place for small boiled meats, and a boiling-house for the great boiler. In private houses the culinary arrangements were no doubt different; for Du Cange mentions a little kitchen with a chamber, even in a solarium, or upper floor. 63. THE SIMPLICITY OF THE PRIMITIVE AGES has frequently been an object of poetical admiration, and it delights the imagination to picture men living upon such fruits as spring spontaneously from the earth, and desiring no other beverages to slake their thirst, but such as fountains and rivers supply. Thus we are told, that the ancient inhabitants of Argos lived principally on pears; that the Arcadians revelled in acorns, and the Athenians in figs. This, of course, was in the golden age, before ploughing began, and when mankind enjoyed all kinds of plenty without having to earn their bread "by the sweat of their brow." This delightful period, however, could not last for ever, and the earth became barren, and continued unfruitful till Ceres came and taught the art of sowing, with several other useful inventions. The first whom she taught to till the ground was Triptolemus, who communicated his instructions to his countrymen the Athenians. Thence the art was carried into Achaia, and thence into Arcadia. Barley was the first grain that was used, and the invention of bread-making is ascribed to Pan. The use of fire, as an instrument of cookery, must have been coeval with this invention of bread, which, being the most necessary of all kinds of food, was frequently used in a sense so comprehensive as to include both meat and drink. It was, by the Greeks, baked under the ashes. 64. IN THE PRIMARY AGES it was deemed unlawful to eat flesh, and when mankind began to depart from their primitive habits, the flesh of swine was the first that was eaten. For several ages, it was pronounced unlawful to slaughter oxen, from an estimate of their great value in assisting men to cultivate the ground; nor was it usual to kill young animals, from a sentiment which considered it cruel to take away the life of those that had scarcely tasted the joys of existence. At this period no cooks were kept, and we know from Homer that his ancient heroes prepared and dressed their victuals with their own hands. Ulysses, for example, we are told, like a modern charwoman, excelled at lighting a fire, whilst Achilles was an adept at turning a spit. Subsequently, heralds, employed in civil and military affairs, filled the office of cooks, and managed marriage feasts; but this, no doubt, was after mankind had advanced in the art of living, a step further than _roasting_, which, in all places, was the ancient manner of dressing meat. 65. THE AGE OF ROASTING we may consider as that in which the use of the metals would be introduced as adjuncts to the culinary art; and amongst these, iron, the most useful of them all, would necessarily take a prominent place. This metal is easily oxidized, but to bring it to a state of fusibility, it requires a most intense heat. Of all the metals, it is the widest diffused and most abundant; and few stones or mineral bodies are without an admixture of it. It possesses the valuable property of being welded by hammering; and hence its adaptation to the numerous purposes of civilized life. Metallic grains of iron have been found in strawberries, and a twelfth of the weight of the wood of dried oak is said to consist of this metal. Blood owes its colour of redness to the quantity of iron it contains, and rain and snow are seldom perfectly free from it. In the arts it is employed in three states,--as _cast_ iron, _wrought_ iron, and _steel_. In each of these it largely enters into the domestic economy, and stoves, grates, and the general implements of cookery, are usually composed of it. In antiquity, its employment was, comparatively speaking, equally universal. The excavations made at Pompeii have proved this. The accompanying cuts present us with specimens of stoves, both ancient and modern. Fig. 2 is the remains of a kitchen stove found in the house of Pansa, at Pompeii, and would seem, in its perfect state, not to have been materially different from such as are in use at the present day. Fig. 3 is a self-acting, simple open range in modern use, and may be had of two qualities, ranging, according to their dimensions, from £3. 10s. and £3. 18s. respectively, up to £4. 10s. and £7. 5s. They are completely fitted up with oven, boiler, sliding cheek, wrought-iron bars, revolving shelves, and brass tap. Fig. 4, is called the Improved Leamington Kitchener, and is said to surpass any other range in use, for easy cooking by one fire. It has a hot plate, which is well calculated for an ironing-stove, and on which as many vessels as will stand upon it, may be kept boiling, without being either soiled or injured. Besides, it has a perfectly ventilated and spacious wrought-iron roaster, with movable shelves, draw-out stand, double dripping-pan, and meat-stand. The roaster can be converted into an oven by closing the valves, when bread and pastry can be baked in it in a superior manner. It also has a large iron boiler with brass tap and steam-pipe, round and square gridirons for chops and steaks, ash-pan, open fire for roasting, and a set of ornamental covings with plate-warmer attached. It took a first-class prize and medal in the Great Exhibition of 1851, and was also exhibited, with all the recent improvements, at the Dublin Exhibition in 1853. Fig. 5 is another kitchener, adapted for large families. It has on the one side, a large ventilated oven; and on the other, the fire and roaster. The hot plate is over all, and there is a back boiler, made of wrought iron, with brass tap and steam-pipe. In other respects it resembles Fig. 4, with which it possesses similar advantages of construction. Either maybe had at varying prices, according to size, from £5. 15s. up to £23. 10s. They are supplied by Messrs. Richard & John Slack 336, Strand, London. [Illustration: _Fig_. 2.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 3.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 4.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 5.] 66. FROM KITCHEN RANGES to the implements used in cookery is but a step. With these, every kitchen should be well supplied, otherwise the cook must not be expected to "perform her office" in a satisfactory manner. Of the culinary utensils of the ancients, our knowledge is very limited; but as the art of living, in every civilized country, is pretty much the same, the instruments for cooking must, in a great degree, bear a striking resemblance to each other. On referring to classical antiquities, we find mentioned, among household utensils, leather bags, baskets constructed of twigs, reeds, and rushes; boxes, basins, and bellows; bread-moulds, brooms, and brushes; caldrons, colanders, cisterns, and chafing-dishes; cheese-rasps, knives, and ovens of the Dutch kind; funnels and frying-pans; handmills, soup-ladles, milk-pails, and oil-jars; presses, scales, and sieves; spits of different sizes, but some of them large enough to roast an ox; spoons, fire-tongs, trays, trenchers, and drinking-vessels; with others for carrying food, preserving milk, and holding cheese. This enumeration, if it does nothing else, will, to some extent, indicate the state of the simpler kinds of mechanical arts among the ancients. [Illustration: _Fig_. 6.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 7.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 8.] In so far as regards the shape and construction of many of the kitchen utensils enumerated above, they bore a great resemblance to our own. This will be seen by the accompanying cuts. Fig. 6 is an ancient stock-pot in bronze, which seems to have been made to hang over the fire, and was found in the buried city of Pompeii. Fig. 7 is one of modern make, and may be obtained either of copper or wrought iron, tinned inside. Fig. 8 is another of antiquity, with a large ladle and colander, with holes attached. It is taken from the column of Trajan. The modern ones can be obtained at all prices, according to size, from 13s. 6d. up to £1. 1s. 67. IN THE MANUFACTURE OF THESE UTENSILS, bronze metal seems to have been much in favour with the ancients. It was chosen not only for their domestic vessels, but it was also much used for their public sculptures and medals. It is a compound, composed of from six to twelve parts of tin to one hundred of copper. It gives its name to figures and all pieces of sculpture made of it. Brass was another favourite metal, which is composed of copper and zinc. It is more fusible than copper, and not so apt to tarnish. In a pure state it is not malleable, unless when hot, and after it has been melted twice it will not bear the hammer. To render it capable of being wrought, it requires 7 lb. of lead to be put to 1 cwt. of its own material. The Corinthian brass of antiquity was a mixture of silver, gold, and copper. A fine kind of brass, supposed to be made by the cementation of copper plates with calamine, is, in Germany, hammered out into leaves, and is called Dutch metal in this country. It is employed in the same way as gold leaf. Brass is much used for watchworks, as well as for wire. 68. The braziers, ladles, stewpans, saucepans, gridirons, and colanders of antiquity might generally pass for those of the English manufacture of the present day, in so far as shape is concerned. In proof of this we have placed together the following similar articles of ancient and modern pattern, in order that the reader may, at a single view, see wherein any difference that is between them, consists. [Illustration: _Fig_. 9. Modern.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 10. Ancient.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 11. Modern.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 12. Ancient.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 13. Modern.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 14. Ancient.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 15. Modern.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 16. Modern.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 17. Ancient.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 18. Ancient.] _Figs_. 9 and 10 are flat sauce or _sauté_ pans, the ancient one being fluted in the handle, and having at the end a ram's head. Figs. 11 and 12 are colanders, the handle of the ancient one being adorned, in the original, with carved representations of a cornucopia, a satyr, a goat, pigs, and other animals. Any display of taste in the adornment of such utensils, might seem to be useless; but when we remember how much more natural it is for us all to be careful of the beautiful and costly, than of the plain and cheap, it may even become a question in the economy of a kitchen, whether it would not, in the long run, be cheaper to have articles which displayed some tasteful ingenuity in their manufacture, than such as are so perfectly plain as to have no attractions whatever beyond their mere suitableness to the purposes for which they are made. Figs. 13 and 14 are saucepans, the ancient one being of bronze, originally copied from the cabinet of M. l'Abbé Charlet, and engraved in the Antiquities of Montfaucon. Figs. 15 and 17 are gridirons, and 16 and 18 dripping-pans. In all these utensils the resemblance between such as were in use 2,000 years ago, and those in use at the present day, is strikingly manifest. 69. SOME OF THE ANCIENT UTENSILS represented in the above cuts, are copied from those found amid the ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii. These Roman cities were, in the first century, buried beneath the lava of an eruption of Vesuvius, and continued to be lost to the world till the beginning of the last century, when a peasant, in digging for a well, gradually discovered a small temple with some statues. Little notice, however, was taken of this circumstance till 1736, when the king of Naples, desiring to erect a palace at Portici, caused extensive excavations to be made, when the city of Herculaneum was slowly unfolded to view. Pompeii was discovered about 1750, and being easier cleared from the lava in which it had so long been entombed, disclosed itself as it existed immediately before the catastrophe which overwhelmed it, nearly two thousand years ago. It presented, to the modern world, the perfect picture of the form and structure of an ancient Roman city. The interior of its habitations, shops, baths, theatres, and temples, were all disclosed, with many of the implements used by the workmen in their various trades, and the materials on which they were employed, when the doomed city was covered with the lavian stream. 70. AMONGST THE MOST ESSENTIAL REQUIREMENTS of the kitchen are scales or weighing-machines for family use. These are found to have existed among the ancients, and must, at a very early age, have been both publicly and privately employed for the regulation of quantities. The modern English weights were adjusted by the 27th chapter of Magna Charta, or the great charter forced, by the barons, from King John at Runnymede, in Surrey. Therein it is declared that the weights, all over England, shall be the same, although for different commodities there were two different kinds, Troy and Avoirdupois. The origin of both is taken from a grain of wheat gathered in the middle of an ear. The standard of measures was originally kept at Winchester, and by a law of King Edgar was ordained to be observed throughout the kingdom. [Illustration: _Fig_. 19.] [Illustration: _Fig_. 20.] Fig. 19 is an ancient pair of common scales, with two basins and a movable weight, which is made in the form of a head, covered with the pileus, because Mercury had the weights and measures under his superintendence. It is engraved on a stone in the gallery of Florence. Fig. 20 represents a modern weighing-machine, of great convenience, and generally in use in those establishments where a great deal of cooking is carried on. 71. ACCOMPANYING THE SCALES, or weighing-machines, there should be spice-boxes, and sugar and biscuit-canisters of either white or japanned tin. The covers of these should fit tightly, in order to exclude the air, and if necessary, be lettered in front, to distinguish them. The white metal of which they are usually composed, loses its colour when exposed to the air, but undergoes no further change. It enters largely into the composition of culinary utensils, many of them being entirely composed of tinned sheet-iron; the inside of copper and iron vessels also, being usually what is called _tinned_. This art consists of covering any metal with a thin coating of tin; and it requires the metal to be covered, to be perfectly clean and free from rust, and also that the tin, itself, be purely metallic, and entirely cleared from all ashes or refuse. Copper boilers, saucepans, and other kitchen utensils, are tinned after they are manufactured, by being first made hot and the tin rubbed on with resin. In this process, nothing ought to be used but pure grain-tin. Lead, however, is sometimes mixed with that metal, not only to make it lie more easily, but to adulterate it--a pernicious practice, which in every article connected with the cooking and preparation of food, cannot be too severely reprobated.--The following list, supplied by Messrs. Richard & John Slack, 336, Strand, will show the articles required for the kitchen of a family in the middle class of life, although it does not contain all the things that may be deemed necessary for some families, and may contain more than are required for others. As Messrs. Slack themselves, however, publish a useful illustrated catalogue, which may be had at their establishment _gratis_, and which it will be found advantageous to consult by those about to furnish, it supersedes the necessity of our enlarging that which we give:-- s. d. 1 Tea-kettle 6 6 1 Toasting-fork 1 0 1 Bread-grater 1 0 1 Pair of Brass Candlesticks 3 6 1 Teapot and Tray 6 6 1 Bottle-jack 9 6 6 Spoons 1 6 2 Candlesticks 2 6 1 Candle-box 1 4 6 Knives and Forks 5 3 2 Sets of Skewers 1 0 1 Meat-chopper 1 9 1 Cinder-sifter 1 3 1 Coffee-pot 2 3 1 Colander 1 6 3 Block-tin Saucepans 5 9 5 Iron Saucepans 12 0 1 Ditto and Steamer 6 6 1 Large Boiling-pot 10 0 4 Iron Stewpans 8 9 1 Dripping-pan and Stand 6 6 1 Dustpan 1 0 1 Fish and Egg-slice 1 9 2 Fish-kettles 10 0 1 Flour-box 1 0 3 Flat-irons 3 6 2 Frying-pans 4 0 1 Gridiron 2 0 1 Mustard-pot 1 0 1 Salt-cellar 0 8 1 Pepper-box 0 6 1 Pair of Bellows 2 0 3 Jelly-moulds 8 0 1 Plate-basket 5 6 1 Cheese-toaster 1 10 1 Coal-shovel 2 6 1 Wood Meat-screen 30 0 The Set £8 11 1 72. AS NOT ONLY HEALTH BUT LIFE may be said to depend on the cleanliness of culinary utensils, great attention must be paid to their condition generally, but more especially to that of the saucepans, stewpans, and boilers. Inside they should be kept perfectly clean, and where an open fire is used, the outside as clean as possible. With a Leamington range, saucepans, stewpans, &c., can be kept entirely free from smoke and soot on the outside, which is an immense saving of labour to the cook or scullery-maid. Care should be taken that the lids fit tight and close, so that soups or gravies may not be suffered to waste by evaporation. They should be made to keep the steam in and the smoke out, and should always be bright on the upper rim, where they do not immediately come in contact with the fire. Soup-pots and kettles should be washed immediately After being used, and dried before the fire, and they should be kept in a dry place, in order that they may escape the deteriorating influence of rust, and, thereby, be destroyed. Copper utensils should never be used in the kitchen unless tinned, and the utmost care should be taken, not to let the tin be rubbed off. If by chance this should occur, have it replaced before the vessel is again brought into use. Neither soup nor gravy should, at any time, be suffered to remain in them longer than is absolutely necessary, as any fat or acid that is in them, may affect the metal, so as to impregnate with poison what is intended to be eaten. Stone and earthenware vessels should be provided for soups and gravies not intended for immediate use, and, also, plenty of common dishes for the larder, that the table-set may not be used for such purposes. It is the nature of vegetables soon to turn sour, when they are apt to corrode glazed red-ware, and even metals, and frequently, thereby, to become impregnated with poisonous particles. The vinegar also in pickles, by its acidity, does the same. Consideration, therefore, should be given to these facts, and great care also taken that all _sieves, jelly-bags,_ and tapes for collared articles, be well scalded and kept dry, or they will impart an unpleasant flavour when next used. To all these directions the cook should pay great attention, nor should they, by any means, be neglected by the _mistress of the household_, who ought to remember that cleanliness in the kitchen gives health and happiness to home, whilst economy will immeasurably assist in preserving them. 73. WITHOUT FUEL, A KITCHEN might be pronounced to be of little use; therefore, to discover and invent materials for supplying us with the means of domestic heat and comfort, has exercised the ingenuity of man. Those now known have been divided into five classes; the first comprehending the fluid inflammable bodies; the second, peat or turf; the third, charcoal of wood; the fourth, pit-coal charred; and the fifth, wood or pit-coal in a crude state, with the capacity of yielding a copious and bright flame. The first may be said seldom to be employed for the purposes of cookery; but _peat_, especially amongst rural populations, has, in all ages, been regarded as an excellent fuel. It is one of the most important productions of an alluvial soil, and belongs to the vegetable rather than the mineral kingdom. It may be described as composed of wet, spongy black earth, held together by decayed vegetables. Formerly it covered extensive tracts in England, but has greatly disappeared before the genius of agricultural improvement. _Charcoal_ is a kind of artificial coal, used principally where a strong and clear fire is desired. It is a black, brittle, insoluble, inodorous, tasteless substance, and, when newly-made, possesses the remarkable property of absorbing certain quantities of the different gases. Its dust, when used as a polishing powder, gives great brilliancy to metals. It consists of wood half-burned, and is manufactured by cutting pieces of timber into nearly the same size, then disposing them in heaps, and covering them with earth, so as to prevent communication with the air, except when necessary to make them burn. When they have been sufficiently charred, the fire is extinguished by stopping the vents through which the air is admitted. Of _coal_ there are various species; as, pit, culm, slate, cannel, Kilkenny, sulphurous, bovey, jet, &c. These have all their specific differences, and are employed for various purposes; but are all, more or less, used as fuel. The use of coal for burning purposes was not known to the Romans. In Britain it was discovered about fifty years before the birth of Christ, in Lancashire, not tar from where Manchester now stands; but for ages after its discovery, so long as forests abounded, wood continued to be the fuel used for firing. The first public notice of coal is in the reign of Henry III., who, in 1272, granted a charter to the town of Newcastle, permitting the inhabitants to dig for coal. It took some centuries more, however, to bring it into common use, as this did not take place till about the first quarter of the seventeenth century, in the time of Charles I. A few years after the Restoration, we find that about 200,000 chaldrons were consumed in London. Although several countries possess mines of coal, the quality of their mineral is, in general, greatly inferior to that of Great Britain, where it is found mostly in undulating districts abounding with valleys, and interspersed with plains of considerable extent. It lies usually between the _strata_ of other substances, and rarely in an horizontal position, but with a _dip_ or inclination to one side. Our cut, Fig. 21, represents a section of coal as it is found in the stratum. [Illustration: _Fig_. 21.] 74. TO BE ACQUAINTED WITH THE PERIODS when things are in season, is one of the most essential pieces of knowledge which enter into the "Art of Cookery." We have, therefore, compiled the following list, which will serve to show for every month in the year the TIMES WHEN THINGS ARE IN SEASON. JANUARY. FISH.--Barbel, brill, carp, cod, crabs, crayfish, dace, eels, flounders, haddocks, herrings, lampreys, lobsters, mussels, oysters, perch, pike, plaice, prawns, shrimps, skate, smelts, soles, sprats, sturgeon, tench, thornback, turbot, whitings. MEAT.--Beef, house lamb, mutton, pork, veal, venison. POULTRY.--Capons, fowls, tame pigeons, pullets, rabbits, turkeys. GAME.--Grouse, hares, partridges, pheasants, snipe, wild-fowl, woodcock. VEGETABLES.--Beetroot, broccoli, cabbages, carrots, celery, chervil, cresses, cucumbers (forced), endive, lettuces, parsnips, potatoes, savoys, spinach, turnips,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apples, grapes, medlars, nuts, oranges, pears, walnuts, crystallized preserves (foreign), dried fruits, such as almonds and raisins; French and Spanish plums; prunes, figs, dates. FEBRUARY. FISH.--Barbel, brill, carp, cod may be bought, but is not so good as in January, crabs, crayfish, dace, eels, flounders, haddocks, herrings, lampreys, lobsters, mussels, oysters, perch, pike, plaice, prawns, shrimps, skate, smelts, soles, sprats, sturgeon, tench, thornback, turbot, whiting. MEAT.--Beef, house lamb, mutton, pork, veal. POULTRY.--Capons, chickens, ducklings, tame and wild pigeons, pullets with eggs, turkeys, wild-fowl, though now not in full season. GAME.--Grouse, hares, partridges, pheasants, snipes, woodcock. VEGETABLES.--Beetroot, broccoli (purple and white), Brussels sprouts, cabbages, carrots, celery, chervil, cresses, cucumbers (forced), endive, kidney-beans, lettuces, parsnips, potatoes, savoys, spinach, turnips,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apples (golden and Dutch pippins), grapes, medlars, nuts, oranges, pears (Bon Chrétien), walnuts, dried fruits (foreign), such as almonds and raisins; French and Spanish plums; prunes, figs, dates, crystallized preserves. MARCH. FISH.--Barbel, brill, carp, crabs, crayfish, dace, eels, flounders, haddocks, herrings, lampreys, lobsters, mussels, oysters, perch, pike, plaice, prawns, shrimps, skate, smelts, soles, sprats, sturgeon, tench, thornback, turbot, whiting. MEAT.--Beef, house lamb, mutton, pork, veal. POULTRY.--Capons, chickens, ducklings, tame and wild pigeons, pullets with eggs, turkeys, wild-fowl, though now not in full season. GAME.--Grouse, hares, partridges, pheasants, snipes, woodcock. VEGETABLES.--Beetroot, broccoli (purple and white), Brussels sprouts, cabbages, carrots, celery, chervil, cresses, cucumbers (forced), endive, kidney-beans, lettuces, parsnips, potatoes, savoys, sea-kale, spinach, turnips,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apples (golden and Dutch pippins), grapes, medlars, nuts, oranges, pears (Bon Chrétien), walnuts, dried fruits (foreign), such as almonds and raisins; French and Spanish plums; prunes, figs, dates, crystallized preserves. APRIL. FISH.--Brill, carp, cockles, crabs, dory, flounders, ling, lobsters, red and gray mullet, mussels, oysters, perch, prawns, salmon (but rather scarce and expensive), shad, shrimps, skate, smelts, soles, tench, turbot, whitings. MEAT.--Beef, lamb, mutton, veal. POULTRY.--Chickens, ducklings, fowls, leverets, pigeons, pullets, rabbits. GAME.--Hares. VEGETABLES.--Broccoli, celery, lettuces, young onions, parsnips, radishes, small salad, sea-kale, spinach, sprouts,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apples, nuts, pears, forced cherries, &e. for tarts, rhubarb, dried fruits, crystallized preserves. MAY. FISH.--Carp, chub, crabs, crayfish, dory, herrings, lobsters, mackerel, red and gray mullet, prawns, salmon, shad, smelts, soles, trout, turbot. MEAT.--Beef, lamb, mutton, veal. POULTRY.--Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, leverets, pullets, rabbits. VEGETABLES.--Asparagus, beans, early cabbages, carrots, cauliflowers, creases, cucumbers, lettuces, pease, early potatoes, salads, sea-kale,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apples, green apricots, cherries, currants for tarts, gooseberries, melons, pears, rhubarb, strawberries. JUNE. FISH.--Carp, crayfish, herrings, lobsters, mackerel, mullet, pike, prawns, salmon, soles, tench, trout, turbot. MEAT.--Beef, lamb, mutton, veal, buck venison. POULTRY.--Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, leverets, plovers, pullets, rabbits, turkey poults, wheatears. VEGETABLES.--Artichokes, asparagus, beans, cabbages, carrots, cucumbers, lettuces, onions, parsnips, pease, potatoes, radishes, small salads, sea-kale, spinach,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apricots, cherries, currants, gooseberries, melons, nectarines, peaches, pears, pineapples, raspberries, rhubarb, strawberries. JULY. FISH.--Carp, crayfish, dory, flounders, haddocks, herrings, lobsters, mackerel, mullet, pike, plaice, prawns, salmon, shrimps, soles, sturgeon, tench, thornback. MEAT.--Beef, lamb, mutton, veal, buck venison. POULTRY.--Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, leverets, plovers, pullets, rabbits, turkey poults, wheatears, wild ducks (called flappers). VEGETABLES.--Artichokes, asparagus, beans, cabbages, carrots, cauliflowers, celery, cresses, endive, lettuces, mushrooms, onions, pease, radishes, small salading, sea-kale, sprouts, turnips, vegetable marrow,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apricots, cherries, currants, figs, gooseberries, melons, nectarines, pears, pineapples, plums, raspberries, strawberries, walnuts in high season, and pickled. AUGUST. FISH.--Brill, carp, chub, crayfish, crabs, dory, eels, flounders, grigs, herrings, lobsters, mullet, pike, prawns, salmon, shrimps, skate, soles, sturgeon, thornback, trout, turbot. MEAT.--Beef, lamb, mutton, veal, buck venison. POULTRY.--Chickens, ducklings, fowls, green geese, pigeons, plovers, pullets, rabbits, turkey poults, wheatears, wild ducks. GAME.--Leverets, grouse, blackcock. VEGETABLES.--Artichokes, asparagus, beans, carrots, cabbages, cauliflowers, celery, cresses, endive, lettuces, mushrooms, onions, pease, potatoes, radishes, sea-bale, small salading, sprouts, turnips, various kitchen herbs, vegetable marrows. FRUIT.--Currants, figs, filberts, gooseberries, grapes, melons, mulberries, nectarines, peaches, pears, pineapples, plums, raspberries, walnuts. SEPTEMBER. FISH.--Brill, carp, cod, eels, flounders, lobsters, mullet, oysters, plaice, prawns, skate, soles, turbot, whiting, whitebait. MEAT.--Beef, lamb, mutton, pork, veal. POULTRY.--Chickens, ducks, fowls, geese, larks, pigeons, pullets, rabbits, teal, turkeys. GAME.--Blackcock, buck venison, grouse, hares, partridges, pheasants. VEGETABLES.--Artichokes, asparagus, beans, cabbage sprouts, carrots, celery, lettuces, mushrooms, onions, pease, potatoes, salading, sea-kale, sprouts, tomatoes, turnips, vegetable marrows,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Bullaces, damsons, figs, filberts, grapes, melons, morella-cherries, mulberries, nectarines, peaches, pears, plums, quinces, walnuts. OCTOBER. FISH.--Barbel, brill, cod, crabs, eels, flounders, gudgeons, haddocks, lobsters, mullet, oysters, plaice, prawns, skate, soles, tench, turbot, whiting. MEAT.--Beef, mutton, pork, veal, venison. POULTRY.--Chickens, fowls, geese, larks, pigeons, pullets, rabbits, teal, turkeys, widgeons, wild ducks. GAME.--Blackcock, grouse, hares, partridges, pheasants, snipes, woodcocks, doe venison. VEGETABLES.--Artichokes, beets, cabbages, cauliflowers, carrots, celery, lettuces, mushrooms, onions, potatoes, sprouts, tomatoes, turnips, vegetable marrows,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apples, black and white bullaces, damsons, figs, filberts, grapes, pears, quinces, walnuts. NOVEMBER. FISH.--Brill, carp, cod, crabs, eels, gudgeons, haddocks, oysters, pike, soles, tench, turbot, whiting. MEAT.--Beef, mutton, veal, doe venison. POULTRY.--Chickens, fowls, geese, larks, pigeons, pullets, rabbits, teal, turkeys, widgeons, wild duck. GAME.--Hares, partridges, pheasants, snipes, woodcocks. VEGETABLES.--Beetroot, cabbages, carrots, celery, lettuces, late cucumbers, onions, potatoes, salading, spinach, sprouts,--various herbs. FRUIT.--Apples, bullaces, chestnuts, filberts, grapes, pears, walnuts. DECEMBER. FISH.--Barbel, brill, carp, cod, crabs, eels, dace, gudgeons, haddocks, herrings, lobsters, oysters, porch, pike, shrimps, skate, sprats, soles, tench, thornback, turbot, whiting. MEAT.--Beef, house lamb, mutton, pork, venison. POULTRY.--Capons, chickens, fowls, geese, pigeons, pullets, rabbits, teal, turkeys, widgeons, wild ducks. GAME.--Hares, partridges, pheasants, snipes, woodcocks. VEGETABLES.--Broccoli, cabbages, carrots, celery, leeks, onions, potatoes, parsnips, Scotch kale, turnips, winter spinach. FRUIT.--Apples, chestnuts, filberts, grapes, medlars, oranges, pears, walnuts, dried fruits, such as almonds and raisins, figs, dates, &c.,--crystallized preserves. 75. WHEN FUEL AND FOOD ARE PROCURED, the next consideration is, how the latter may be best preserved, with a view to its being suitably dressed. More waste is often occasioned by the want of judgment, or of necessary care in this particular, than by any other cause. In the absence of proper places for keeping provisions, a hanging safe, suspended in an airy situation, is the best substitute. A well-ventilated larder, dry and shady, is better for meat and poultry, which require to be kept for some time; and the utmost skill in the culinary art will not compensate for the want of proper attention to this particular. Though it is advisable that annual food should be hung up in the open air till its fibres have lost some degree of their toughness, yet, if it is kept till it loses its natural sweetness, its flavour has become deteriorated, and, as a wholesome comestible, it has lost many of its qualities conducive to health. As soon, therefore, as the slightest trace of putrescence is detected, it has reached its highest degree of tenderness, and should be dressed immediately. During the sultry summer months, it is difficult to procure meat that is not either tough or tainted. It should, therefore, be well examined when it comes in, and if flies have touched it, the part must be cut off, and the remainder well washed. In very cold weather, meat and vegetables touched by the frost, should be brought into the kitchen early in the morning, and soaked in cold water. In loins of meat, the long pipe that runs by the bone should be taken out, as it is apt to taint; as also the kernels of beef. Rumps and edgebones of beef, when bruised, should not be purchased. All these things ought to enter into the consideration of every household manager, and great care should be taken that nothing is thrown away, or suffered to be wasted in the kitchen, which might, by proper management, be turned to a good account. The shank-bones of mutton, so little esteemed in general, give richness to soups or gravies, if well soaked and brushed before they are added to the boiling. They are also particularly nourishing for sick persons. Roast-beef bones, or shank-bones of ham, make excellent stock for pea-soup.--When the whites of eggs are used for jelly, confectionary, or other purposes, a pudding or a custard should be made, that the yolks may be used. All things likely to be wanted should be in readiness: sugars of different sorts; currants washed, picked, and perfectly dry; spices pounded, and kept in very small bottles closely corked, or in canisters, as we have already directed (72). Not more of these should be purchased at a time than are likely to be used in the course of a month. Much waste is always prevented by keeping every article in the place best suited to it. Vegetables keep best on a stone floor, if the air be excluded; meat, in a cold dry place; as also salt, sugar, sweet-meats, candles, dried meats, and hams. Rice, and all sorts of seed for puddings, should be closely covered to preserve them from insects; but even this will not prevent them from being affected by these destroyers, if they are long and carelessly kept. [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. INTRODUCTION TO COOKERY. 76. AS IN THE FINE ARTS, the progress of mankind from barbarism to civilization is marked by a gradual succession of triumphs over the rude materialities of nature, so in the art of cookery is the progress gradual from the earliest and simplest modes, to those of the most complicated and refined. Plain or rudely-carved stones, tumuli, or mounds of earth, are the monuments by which barbarous tribes denote the events of their history, to be succeeded, only in the long course of a series of ages, by beautifully-proportioned columns, gracefully-sculptured statues, triumphal arches, coins, medals, and the higher efforts of the pencil and the pen, as man advances by culture and observation to the perfection of his facilities. So is it with the art of cookery. Man, in his primitive state, lives upon roots and the fruits of the earth, until, by degrees, he is driven to seek for new means, by which his wants may be supplied and enlarged. He then becomes a hunter and a fisher. As his species increases, greater necessities come upon him, when he gradually abandons the roving life of the savage for the more stationary pursuits of the herdsman. These beget still more settled habits, when he begins the practice of agriculture, forms ideas of the rights of property, and has his own, both defined and secured. The forest, the stream, and the sea are now no longer his only resources for food. He sows and he reaps, pastures and breeds cattle, lives on the cultivated produce of his fields, and revels in the luxuries of the dairy; raises flocks for clothing, and assumes, to all intents and purposes, the habits of permanent life and the comfortable condition of a farmer. This is the fourth stage of social progress, up to which the useful or mechanical arts have been incidentally developing themselves, when trade and commerce begin. Through these various phases, _only to live_ has been the great object of mankind; but, by-and-by, comforts are multiplied, and accumulating riches create new wants. The object, then, is not only to _live_, but to live economically, agreeably, tastefully, and well. Accordingly, the art of cookery commences; and although the fruits of the earth, the fowls of the air, the beasts of the field, and the fish of the sea, are still the only food of mankind, yet these are so prepared, improved, and dressed by skill and ingenuity, that they are the means of immeasurably extending the boundaries of human enjoyments. Everything that is edible, and passes under the hands of the cook, is more or less changed, and assumes new forms. Hence the influence of that functionary is immense upon the happiness of a household. 77. In order that the duties of the Cook may be properly performed, and that he may be able to reproduce esteemed dishes with certainty, all terms of indecision should be banished from his art. Accordingly, what is known only to him, will, in these pages, be made known to others. In them all those indecisive terms expressed by a bit of this, some of that, a small piece of that, and a handful of the other, shall never be made use of, but all quantities be precisely and explicitly stated. With a desire, also, that all ignorance on this most essential part of the culinary art should disappear, and that a uniform system of weights and measures should be adopted, we give an account of the weights which answer to certain measures. A TABLE-SPOONFUL is frequently mentioned in a recipe, in the prescriptions of medical men, and also in medical, chemical, and gastronomical works. By it is generally meant and understood a measure or bulk equal to that which would be produced by _half an ounce_ of water. A DESSERT-SPOONFUL is the half of a table-spoonful; that is to say, by it is meant a measure or bulk equal to a _quarter of an ounce_ of water. A TEA-SPOONFUL is equal in quantity to a _drachm_ of water. A DROP.--This is the name of a vague kind of measure, and is so called on account of the liquid being _dropped_ from the mouth of a bottle. Its quantity, however, will vary, either from the consistency of the liquid or the size and shape of the mouth of the bottle. The College of Physicians determined the quantity of a drop to be _one grain_, 60 drops making one fluid drachm. Their drop, or sixtieth part of a fluid drachm, is called a _minim_. [Illustration: _Fig_. 22.] Graduated class measures can be obtained at any chemist's, and they save much trouble. One of these, containing a wine pint, is divided into 16 oz., and the oz, into 8 drachms of water; by which, any certain weight mentioned in a recipe can be accurately measured out. Home-made measures of this kind can readily be formed by weighing the water contained in any given measure, and marking on any tall glass the space it occupies. This mark can easily be made with a file. It will be interesting to many readers to know the basis on which the French found their system of weights and measures, for it certainly possesses the grandeur of simplicity. The metre, which is the basis of the whole system of French weights and measures, is the exact measurement of one forty-millionth part of a meridian of the earth. 78. EXCELLENCE IN THE ART OF COOKERY, as in all other things, is only attainable by practice and experience. In proportion, therefore, to the opportunities which a cook has had of these, so will be his excellence in the art. It is in the large establishments of princes, noblemen, and very affluent families alone, that the man cook is found in this country. He, also, superintends the kitchens of large hotels, clubs, and public institutions, where he, usually, makes out the bills of fare, which are generally submitted to the principal for approval. To be able to do this, therefore, it is absolutely necessary that he should be a judge of the season of every dish, as well as know perfectly the state of every article he undertakes to prepare. He must also be a judge of every article he buys; for no skill, however great it may be, will enable him to, make that good which is really bad. On him rests the responsibility of the cooking generally, whilst a speciality of his department, is to prepare the rich soups, stews, ragouts, and such dishes as enter into the more refined and complicated portions of his art, and such as are not usually understood by ordinary professors. He, therefore, holds a high position in a household, being inferior in rank, as already shown (21), only to the house steward, the valet, and the butler. In the luxurious ages of Grecian antiquity, Sicilian cooks were the most esteemed, and received high rewards for their services. Among them, one called Trimalcio was such an adept in his art, that he could impart to common fish both the form and flavour of the most esteemed of the piscatory tribes. A chief cook in the palmy days of Roman voluptuousness had about £800 a year, and Antony rewarded the one that cooked the supper which pleased Cleopatra, with the present of a city. With the fall of the empire, the culinary art sank into less consideration. In the middle ages, cooks laboured to acquire a reputation for their sauces, which they composed of strange combinations, for the sake of novelty, as well as singularity. 79. THE DUTIES OF THE COOK, THE KITCHEN AND THE SCULLERY MAIDS, are so intimately associated, that they can hardly be treated of separately. The cook, however, is at the head of the kitchen; and in proportion to her possession of the qualities of cleanliness, neatness, order, regularity, and celerity of action, so will her influence appear in the conduct of those who are under her; as it is upon her that the whole responsibility of the business of the kitchen rests, whilst the others must lend her, both a ready and a willing assistance, and be especially tidy in their appearance, and active, in their movements. In the larger establishments of the middle ages, cooks, with the authority of feudal chiefs, gave their orders from a high chair in which they ensconced themselves, and commanded a view of all that was going on throughout their several domains. Each held a long wooden spoon, with which he tasted, without leaving his seat, the various comestibles that were cooking on the stoves, and which he frequently used as a rod of punishment on the backs of those whose idleness and gluttony too largely predominated over their diligence and temperance. 80. IF, AS WE HAVE SAID (3), THE QUALITY OF EARLY RISING be of the first importance to the mistress, what must it be to the servant! Let it, therefore, be taken as a long-proved truism, that without it, in every domestic, the effect of all things else, so far as _work_ is concerned, may, in a great measure, be neutralized. In a cook, this quality is most essential; for an hour lost in the morning, will keep her toiling, absolutely toiling, all day, to overtake that which might otherwise have been achieved with ease. In large establishments, six is a good hour to rise in the summer, and seven in the winter. 81. HER FIRST DUTY, in large establishments and where it is requisite, should be to set her dough for the breakfast rolls, provided this has not been done on the previous night, and then to engage herself with those numerous little preliminary occupations which may not inappropriately be termed laying out her duties for the day. This will bring in the breakfast hour of eight, after which, directions must be given, and preparations made, for the different dinners of the household and family. 82. IN THOSE NUMEROUS HOUSEHOLDS where a cook and housemaid are only kept, the general custom is, that the cook should have the charge of the dining-room. The hall, the lamps and the doorstep are also committed to her care, and any other work there may be on the outside of the house. In establishments of this kind, the cook will, after having lighted her kitchen fire, carefully brushed the range, and cleaned the hearth, proceed to prepare for breakfast. She will thoroughly rinse the kettle, and, filling it with fresh water, will put it on the fire to boil. She will then go to the breakfast-room, or parlour, and there make all things ready for the breakfast of the family. Her attention will next be directed to the hall, which she will sweep and wipe; the kitchen stairs, if there be any, will now be swept; and the hall mats, which have been removed and shaken, will be again put in their places. The cleaning of the kitchen, pantry, passages, and kitchen stairs must always be over before breakfast, so that it may not interfere with the other business of the day. Everything should be ready, and the whole house should wear a comfortable aspect when the heads of the house and members of the family make their appearance. Nothing, it may be depended on, will so please the mistress of an establishment, as to notice that, although she has not been present to see that the work was done, attention to smaller matters has been carefully paid, with a view to giving her satisfaction and increasing her comfort. 83. BY THE TIME THAT THE COOK has performed the duties mentioned above, and well swept, brushed, and dusted her kitchen, the breakfast-bell will most likely summon her to the parlour, to "bring in" the breakfast. It is the cook's department, generally, in the smaller establishments, to wait at breakfast, as the housemaid, by this time, has gone up-stairs into the bedrooms, and has there applied herself to her various duties. The cook usually answers the bells and single knocks at the door in the early part of the morning, as the tradesmen, with whom it is her more special business to speak, call at these hours. 84. IT IS IN HER PREPARATION OF THE DINNER that the cook begins to feel the weight and responsibility of her situation, as she must take upon herself all the dressing and the serving of the principal dishes, which her skill and ingenuity have mostly prepared. Whilst these, however, are cooking, she must be busy with her pastry, soups, gravies, ragouts, &c. Stock, or what the French call _consommé_, being the basis of most made dishes, must be always at hand, in conjunction with her sweet herbs and spices for seasoning. "A place for everything, and everything in its place," must be her rule, in order that time may not be wasted in looking for things when they are wanted, and in order that the whole apparatus of cooking may move with the regularity and precision of a well-adjusted machine;--all must go on simultaneously. The vegetables and sauces must be ready with the dishes they are to accompany, and in order that they may be suitable, the smallest oversight must not be made in their preparation. When the dinner-hour has arrived, it is the duty of the cook to dish-up such dishes as may, without injury, stand, for some time, covered on the hot plate or in the hot closet; but such as are of a more important or _recherché_ kind, must be delayed until the order "to serve" is given from the drawing-room. Then comes haste; but there must be no hurry,--all must work with order. The cook takes charge of the fish, soups, and poultry; and the kitchen-maid of the vegetables, sauces, and gravies. These she puts into their appropriate dishes, whilst the scullery-maid waits on and assists the cook. Everything must be timed so as to prevent its getting cold, whilst great care should be taken, that, between the first and second courses, no more time is allowed to elapse than is necessary, for fear that the company in the dining-room lose all relish for what has yet to come of the dinner. When the dinner has been served, the most important feature in the daily life of the cook is at an end. She must, however, now begin to look to the contents of her larder, taking care to keep everything sweet and clean, so that no disagreeable smells may arise from the gravies, milk, or meat that may be there. These are the principal duties of a cook in a first-rate establishment. In smaller establishments, the housekeeper often conducts the higher department of cooking (_see_ 58, 59, 60), and the cook, with the assistance of a scullery-maid, performs some of the subordinate duties of the kitchen-maid. When circumstances render it necessary, the cook engages to perform the whole of the work of the kitchen, and, in some places, a portion of the house-work also. 85. WHILST THE COOK IS ENGAGED WITH HER MORNING DUTIES, the kitchen-maid is also occupied with hers. Her first duty, after the fire is lighted, is to sweep and clean the kitchen, and the various offices belonging to it. This she does every morning, besides cleaning the stone steps at the entrance of the house, the halls, the passages, and the stairs which lead to the kitchen. Her general duties, besides these, are to wash and scour all these places twice a week, with the tables, shelves, and cupboards. She has also to dress the nursery and servants'-hall dinners, to prepare all fish, poultry, and vegetables, trim meat joints and cutlets, and do all such duties as may be considered to enter into the cook's department in a subordinate degree. 86. THE DUTIES OF THE SCULLERY-MAID are to assist the cook; to keep the scullery clean, and all the metallic as well as earthenware kitchen utensils. The position of scullery-maid is not, of course, one of high rank, nor is the payment for her services large. But if she be fortunate enough to have over her a good kitchen-maid and clever cook, she may very soon learn to perform various little duties connected with cooking operations, which may be of considerable service in fitting her for a more responsible place. Now, it will be doubtless thought by the majority of our readers, that the fascinations connected with the position of the scullery-maid, are not so great as to induce many people to leave a comfortable home in order to work in a scullery. But we are acquainted with one instance in which the desire, on the part of a young girl, was so strong to become connected with the kitchen and cookery, that she absolutely left her parents, and engaged herself as a scullery-maid in a gentleman's house. Here she showed herself so active and intelligent, that she very quickly rose to the rank of kitchen-maid; and from this, so great was her gastronomical genius, she became, in a short space of time, one of the best women-cooks in England. After this, we think, it must be allowed, that a cook, like a poet, _nascitur, non fit_. 87. MODERN COOKERY stands so greatly indebted to the gastronomic propensities of our French neighbours, that many of their terms are adopted and applied by English artists to the same as well as similar preparations of their own. A vocabulary of these is, therefore, indispensable in a work of this kind. Accordingly, the following will be found sufficiently complete for all ordinary purposes:-- EXPLANATION OF FRENCH TERMS USED IN MODERN HOUSEHOLD COOKERY. ASPIC.--A savoury jelly, used as an exterior moulding for cold game, poultry, fish, &c. This, being of a transparent nature, allows the bird which it covers to be seen through it. This may also be used for decorating or garnishing. ASSIETTE (plate).--_Assiettes_ are the small _entrées_ and _hors-d'oeuvres_, the quantity of which does not exceed what a plate will hold. At dessert, fruits, cheese, chestnuts, biscuits, &c., if served upon a plate, are termed _assiettes_.--ASSIETTE VOLANTE is a dish which a servant hands round to the guests, but is not placed upon the table. Small cheese soufflés and different dishes, which ought to be served very hot, are frequently made _assielles volantes_. AU-BLEU.--Fish dressed in such a manner as to have a _bluish_ appearance. BAIN-MARIE.--An open saucepan or kettle of nearly boiling water, in which a smaller vessel can be set for cooking and warming. This is very useful for keeping articles hot, without altering their quantity or quality. If you keep sauce, broth, or soup by the fireside, the soup reduces and becomes too strong, and the sauce thickens as well as reduces; but this is prevented by using the _bain-marie_, in which the water should be very hot, but not boiling. BÉCHAMEL.--French white sauce, now frequently used in English cookery. BLANCH.--To whiten poultry, vegetables, fruit, &c., by plunging them into boiling water for a short time, and afterwards plunging them into cold water, there to remain until they are cold. BLANQUETTE.--A sort of fricassee. BOUILLI.--Beef or other meat boiled; but, generally speaking, boiled beef is understood by the term. BOUILLIE.--A French dish resembling hasty-pudding. BOUILLON.--A thin broth or soup. BRAISE.--To stew meat with fat bacon until it is tender, it having previously been blanched. BRAISIÈRE.--A saucepan having a lid with ledges, to put fire on the top. BRIDER.--To pass a packthread through poultry, game, &c., to keep together their members. CARAMEL (burnt sugar).--This is made with a piece of sugar, of the size of a nut, browned in the bottom of a saucepan; upon which a cupful of stock is gradually poured, stirring all the time a glass of broth, little by little. It may be used with the feather of a quill, to colour meats, such as the upper part of fricandeaux; and to impart colour to sauces. Caramel made with water instead of stock may be used to colour _compôtes_ and other _entremets_. CASSEROLE.--A crust of rice, which, after having been moulded into the form of a pie, is baked, and then filled with a fricassee of white meat or a purée of game. COMPOTE.--A stew, as of fruit or pigeons. CONSOMMÉ.--Rich stock, or gravy. CROQUETTE.--Ball of fried rice or potatoes. CROUTONS.--Sippets of bread. DAUBIÈRE.--An oval stewpan, in which _daubes_ are cooked; _daubes_ being meat or fowl stewed in sauce. DÉSOSSER.--To _bone_, or take out the bones from poultry, game, or fish. This is an operation requiring considerable experience. ENTRÉES.--Small side or corner dishes, served with the first course. ENTREMETS.--Small side or corner dishes, served with the second course. ESCALOPES.--Collops; small, round, thin pieces of tender meat, or of fish, beaten with the handle of a strong knife to make them tender. FEUILLETAGE.--Puff-paste. FLAMBER.--To singe fowl or game, after they have been picked. FONCER.--To put in the bottom of a saucepan slices of ham, veal, or thin broad slices of bacon. GALETTE.--A broad thin cake. GÂTEAU.--A cake, correctly speaking; but used sometimes to denote a pudding and a kind of tart. GLACER.--To glaze, or spread upon hot meats, or larded fowl, a thick and rich sauce or gravy, called _glaze_. This is laid on with a feather or brush, and in confectionary the term means to ice fruits and pastry with sugar, which glistens on hardening. HORS-D'OEUVRES.--Small dishes, or _assiettes volantes_ of sardines, anchovies, and other relishes of this kind, served to the guests during the first course. (_See_ ASSIETTES VOLANTES.) LIT.--A bed or layer; articles in thin slices are placed in layers, other articles, or seasoning, being laid between them. MAIGRE.--Broth, soup, or gravy, made without meat. MATELOTE.--A rich fish-stew, which is generally composed of carp, eels, trout, or barbel. It is made with wine. MAYONNAISE.--Cold sauce, or salad dressing. MENU.--The bill of fare. MERINGUE.--A kind of icing, made of whites of eggs and sugar, well beaten. MIROTON.--Larger slices of meat than collops; such as slices of beef for a vinaigrette, or ragout or stew of onions. MOUILLER.--To add water, broth, or other liquid, during the cooking. PANER.--To cover over with very fine crumbs of bread, meats, or any other articles to be cooked on the gridiron, in the oven, or frying-pan. PIQUER.--To lard with strips of fat bacon, poultry, game, meat, &c. This should always be done according to the vein of the meat, so that in carving you slice the bacon across as well as the meat. POÊLÉE.--Stock used instead of water for boiling turkeys, sweetbreads, fowls, and vegetables, to render them less insipid. This is rather an expensive preparation. PURÉE.--Vegetables, or meat reduced to a very smooth pulp, which is afterwards mixed with enough liquid to make it of the consistency of very thick soup. RAGOUT.--Stew or hash. REMOULADE.--Salad dressing. RISSOLES.--Pastry, made of light puff-paste, and cut into various forms, and fried. They may be filled with fish, meat, or sweets. ROUX.--Brown and white; French thickening. SALMI.--Ragout of game previously roasted. SAUCE PIQUANTE.--A sharp sauce, in which somewhat of a vinegar flavour predominates. SAUTER.--To dress with sauce in a saucepan, repeatedly moving it about. TAMIS.--Tammy, a sort of open cloth or sieve through which to strain broth and sauces, so as to rid them of small bones, froth, &c. TOURTE.--Tart. Fruit pie. TROUSSER.--To truss a bird; to put together the body and tie the wings and thighs, in order to round it for roasting or boiling, each being tied then with packthread, to keep it in the required form. VOL-AU-VENT.--A rich crust of very fine puff-paste, which may be filled with various delicate ragouts or fricassees, of fish, flesh, or fowl. Fruit may also be inclosed in a _vol-au-vent_. [Illustration] SOUPS. CHAPTER V. GENERAL DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING SOUPS. 88. LEAN, JUICY BEEF, MUTTON, AND VEAL, form the basis of all good soups; therefore it is advisable to procure those pieces which afford the richest succulence, and such as are fresh-killed. Stale meat renders them bad, and fat is not so well adapted for making them. The principal art in composing good rich soup, is so to proportion the several ingredients that the flavour of one shall not predominate over another, and that all the articles of which it is composed, shall form an agreeable whole. To accomplish this, care must be taken that the roots and herbs are perfectly well cleaned, and that the water is proportioned to the quantity of meat and other ingredients. Generally a quart of water may be allowed to a pound of meat for soups, and half the quantity for gravies. In making soups or gravies, gentle stewing or simmering is incomparably the best. It may be remarked, however, that a really good soup can never be made but in a well-closed vessel, although, perhaps, greater wholesomeness is obtained by an occasional exposure to the air. Soups will, in general, take from three to six hours doing, and are much better prepared the day before they are wanted. When the soup is cold, the fat may be much more easily and completely removed; and when it is poured off, care must be taken not to disturb the settlings at the bottom of the vessel, which are so fine that they will escape through a sieve. A tamis is the best strainer, and if the soup is strained while it is hot, let the tamis or cloth be previously soaked in cold water. Clear soups must be perfectly transparent, and thickened soups about the consistence of cream. To thicken and give body to soups and gravies, potato-mucilage, arrow-root, bread-raspings, isinglass, flour and butter, barley, rice, or oatmeal, in a little water rubbed well together, are used. A piece of boiled beef pounded to a pulp, with a bit of butter and flour, and rubbed through a sieve, and gradually incorporated with the soup, will be found an excellent addition. When the soup appears to be _too thin_ or _too weak_, the cover of the boiler should be taken off, and the contents allowed to boil till some of the watery parts have evaporated; or some of the thickening materials, above mentioned, should be added. When soups and gravies are kept from day to day in hot weather, they should be warmed up every day, and put into fresh scalded pans or tureens, and placed in a cool cellar. In temperate weather, every other day may be sufficient. 89. VARIOUS HERBS AND VEGETABLES are required for the purpose of making soups and gravies. Of these the principal are,--Scotch barley, pearl barley, wheat flour, oatmeal, bread-raspings, pease, beans, rice, vermicelli, macaroni, isinglass, potato-mucilage, mushroom or mushroom ketchup, champignons, parsnips, carrots, beetroot, turnips, garlic, shalots, and onions. Sliced onions, fried with butter and flour till they are browned, and then rubbed through a sieve, are excellent to heighten the colour and flavour of brown soups and sauces, and form the basis of many of the fine relishes furnished by the cook. The older and drier the onion, the stronger will be its flavour. Leeks, cucumber, or burnet vinegar; celery or celery-seed pounded. The latter, though equally strong, does not impart the delicate sweetness of the fresh vegetable; and when used as a substitute, its flavour should be corrected by the addition of a bit of sugar. Cress-seed, parsley, common thyme, lemon thyme, orange thyme, knotted marjoram, sage, mint, winter savoury, and basil. As fresh green basil is seldom to be procured, and its fine flavour is soon lost, the best way of preserving the extract is by pouring wine on the fresh leaves. 90. FOR THE SEASONING OF SOUPS, bay-leaves, tomato, tarragon, chervil, burnet, allspice, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, clove, mace, black and white pepper, essence of anchovy, lemon-peel, and juice, and Seville orange-juice, are all taken. The latter imparts a finer flavour than the lemon, and the acid is much milder. These materials, with wine, mushroom ketchup, Harvey's sauce, tomato sauce, combined in various proportions, are, with other ingredients, manipulated into an almost endless variety of excellent soups and gravies. Soups, which are intended to constitute the principal part of a meal, certainly ought not to be flavoured like sauces, which are only designed to give a relish to some particular dish. SOUP, BROTH AND BOUILLON. 91. IT HAS BEEN ASSERTED, that English cookery is, nationally speaking, far from being the best in the world. More than this, we have been frequently told by brilliant foreign writers, half philosophers, half _chefs_, that we are the _worst_ cooks on the face of the earth, and that the proverb which alludes to the divine origin of food, and the precisely opposite origin of its preparers, is peculiarly applicable to us islanders. Not, however, to the inhabitants of the whole island; for, it is stated in a work which treats of culinary operations, north of the Tweed, that the "broth" of Scotland claims, for excellence and wholesomeness, a very close second place to the _bouillon_, or common soup of France. "_Three_ hot meals of broth and meat, for about the price of ONE roasting joint," our Scottish brothers and sisters get, they say; and we hasten to assent to what we think is now a very well-ascertained fact. We are glad to note, however, that soups of vegetables, fish, meat, and game, are now very frequently found in the homes of the English middle classes, as well as in the mansions of the wealthier and more aristocratic; and we take this to be one evidence, that we are on the right road to an improvement in our system of cookery. One great cause of many of the spoilt dishes and badly-cooked meats which are brought to our tables, arises, we think, and most will agree with us, from a non-acquaintance with "common, every-day things." Entertaining this view, we intend to preface the chapters of this work with a simple scientific _résumé_ of all those causes and circumstances which relate to the food we have to prepare, and the theory and chemistry of the various culinary operations. Accordingly, this is the proper place to treat of the quality of the flesh of animals, and describe some of the circumstances which influence it for good or bad. We will, therefore, commence with the circumstance of _age_, and examine how far this affects the quality of meat. 92. DURING THE PERIOD BETWEEN THE BIRTH AND MATURITY OF ANIMALS, their flesh undergoes very considerable changes. For instance, when the animal is young, the fluids which the tissues of the muscles contain, possess a large proportion of what is called _albumen_. This albumen, which is also the chief component of the white of eggs, possesses the peculiarity of coagulating or hardening at a certain temperature, like the white of a boiled egg, into a soft, white fluid, no longer soluble, or capable of being dissolved in water. As animals grow older, this peculiar animal matter gradually decreases, in proportion to the other constituents of the juice of the flesh. Thus, the reason why veal, lamb, and young pork are _white, and without gravy_ when cooked, is, that the large quantity of albumen they contain hardens, or becomes coagulated. On the other hand, the reason why beef and mutton are _brown, and have gravy_, is, that the proportion of albumen they contain, is small, in comparison with their greater quantity of fluid which is soluble, and not coagulable. 93. THE QUALITY OF THE FLESH OF AN ANIMAL is considerably influenced by the nature of the _food on which it has been fed_; for the food supplies the material which produces the flesh. If the food be not suitable and good, the meat cannot be good either; just as the paper on which these words are printed, could not be good, if the rags from which it is made, were not of a fine quality. To the experienced in this matter, it is well known that the flesh of animals fed on farinaceous produce, such as corn, pulse, &c., is firm, well-flavoured, and also economical in the cooking; that the flesh of those fed on succulent and pulpy substances, such as roots, possesses these qualities in a somewhat less degree; whilst the flesh of those whose food contains fixed oil, as linseed, is greasy, high coloured, and gross in the fat, and if the food has been used in large quantities, possessed of a rank flavour. 94. IT IS INDISPENSABLE TO THE GOOD QUALITY OF MEAT, that the animal should be _perfectly healthy_ at the time of its slaughter. However slight the disease in an animal may be, inferiority in the quality of its flesh, as food, is certain to be produced. In most cases, indeed, as the flesh of diseased animals has a tendency to very rapid putrefaction, it becomes not only unwholesome, but absolutely poisonous, on account of the absorption of the _virus_ of the unsound meat into the systems of those who partake of it. The external indications of good and bad meat will be described under its own particular head, but we may here premise that the layer of all wholesome meat, when freshly killed, adheres firmly to the bone. 95. ANOTHER CIRCUMSTANCE GREATLY AFFECTING THE QUALITY OF MEAT, is the animal's treatment _before it is slaughtered_. This influences its value and wholesomeness in no inconsiderable degree. It will be easy to understand this, when we reflect on those leading principles by which the life of an animal is supported and maintained. These are, the digestion of its food, and the assimilation of that food into its substance. Nature, in effecting this process, first reduces the food in the stomach to a state of pulp, under the name of chyme, which passes into the intestines, and is there divided into two principles, each distinct from the other. One, a milk-white fluid,--the nutritive portion,--is absorbed by innumerable vessels which open upon the mucous membrane, or inner coat of the intestines. These vessels, or absorbents, discharge the fluid into a common duct, or road, along which it is conveyed to the large veins in the neighbourhood of the heart. Here it is mixed with the venous blood (which is black and impure) returning from every part of the body, and then it supplies the waste which is occasioned in the circulating stream by the arterial (or pure) blood having furnished matter for the substance of the animal. The blood of the animal having completed its course through all parts, and having had its waste recruited by the digested food, is now received into the heart, and by the action of that organ it is urged through the lungs, there to receive its purification from the air which the animal inhales. Again returning to the heart, it is forced through the arteries, and thence distributed, by innumerable ramifications, called capillaries, bestowing to every part of the animal, life and nutriment. The other principle--the innutritive portion--passes from the intestines, and is thus got rid of. It will now be readily understood how flesh is affected for bad, if an animal is slaughtered when the circulation of its blood has been increased by over-driving, ill-usage, or other causes of excitement, to such a degree of rapidity as to be too great for the capillaries to perform their functions, and causing the blood to be congealed in its minuter vessels. Where this has been the case, the meat will be dark-coloured, and become rapidly putrid; so that self-interest and humanity alike dictate kind and gentle treatment of all animals destined to serve as food for man. THE CHEMISTRY AND ECONOMY OF SOUP-MAKING. 96. STOCK BEING THE BASIS of all meat soups, and, also, of all the principal sauces, it is essential to the success of these culinary operations, to know the most complete and economical method of extracting, from a certain quantity of meat, the best possible stock or broth. The theory and philosophy of this process we will, therefore, explain, and then proceed to show the practical course to be adopted. 97. AS ALL MEAT is principally composed of fibres, fat, gelatine, osmazome, and albumen, it is requisite to know that the FIBRES are inseparable, constituting almost all that remains of the meat after it has undergone a long boiling. 98. FAT is dissolved by boiling; but as it is contained in cells covered by a very fine membrane, which never dissolves, a portion of it always adheres to the fibres. The other portion rises to the surface of the stock, and is that which has escaped from the cells which were not whole, or which have burst by boiling. 99. GELATINE is soluble: it is the basis and the nutritious portion of the stock. When there is an abundance of it, it causes the stock, when cold, to become a jelly. 100. OSMAZOME is soluble even when cold, and is that part of the meat which gives flavour and perfume to the stock. The flesh of old animals contains more _osmazome_ than that of young ones. Brown meats contain more than white, and the former make the stock more fragrant. By roasting meat, the osmazome appears to acquire higher properties; so, by putting the remains of roast meats into your stock-pot, you obtain a better flavour. 101. ALBUMEN is of the nature of the white of eggs; it can be dissolved in cold or tepid water, but coagulates when it is put into water not quite at the boiling-point. From this property in albumen, it is evident that if the meat is put into the stock-pot when the water boils, or after this is made to boil up quickly, the albumen, in both cases, hardens. In the first it rises to the surface, in the second it remains in the meat, but in both it prevents the gelatine and osmazome from dissolving; and hence a thin and tasteless stock will be obtained. It ought to be known, too, that the coagulation of the albumen in the meat, always takes place, more or less, according to the size of the piece, as the parts farthest from the surface always acquire _that degree_ of heat which congeals it before entirely dissolving it. 102. BONES ought always to form a component part of the stock-pot. They are composed of an earthy substance,--to which they owe their solidity,--of gelatine, and a fatty fluid, something like marrow. _Two ounces_ of them contain as much gelatine as _one pound_ of meat; but in them, this is so incased in the earthy substance, that boiling water can dissolve only the surface of whole bones. By breaking them, however, you can dissolve more, because you multiply their surfaces; and by reducing them to powder or paste, you can dissolve them entirely; but you must not grind them dry. We have said (99) that gelatine forms the basis of stock; but this, though very nourishing, is entirely without taste; and to make the stock savoury, it must contain _osmazome_. Of this, bones do not contain a particle; and that is the reason why stock made entirely of them, is not liked; but when you add meat to the broken or pulverized bones, the osmazome contained in it makes the stock sufficiently savoury. 103. In concluding this part of our subject, the following condensed hints and directions should be attended to in the economy of soup-making:-- I. BEEF MAKES THE BEST STOCK; veal stock has less colour and taste; whilst mutton sometimes gives it a tallowy smell, far from agreeable, unless the meat has been previously roasted or broiled. Fowls add very little to the flavour of stock, unless they be old and fat. Pigeons, when they are old, add the most flavour to it; and a rabbit or partridge is also a great improvement. From the freshest meat the best stock is obtained. II. IF THE MEAT BE BOILED solely to make stock, it must be cut up into the smallest possible pieces; but, generally speaking, if it is desired to have good stock and a piece of savoury meat as well, it is necessary to put a rather large piece into the stock-pot, say sufficient for two or three days, during which time the stock will keep well in all weathers. Choose the freshest meat, and have it cut as thick as possible; for if it is a thin, flat piece, it will not look well, and will be very soon spoiled by the boiling. III. NEVER WASH MEAT, as it deprives its surface of all its juices; separate it from the bones, and tie it round with tape, so that its shape may be preserved, then put it into the stock-pot, and for each pound of meat, let there be one pint of water; press it down with the hand, to allow the air, which it contains, to escape, and which often raises it to the top of the water. IV. PUT THE STOCK-POT ON A GENTLE FIRE, so that it may heat gradually. The albumen will first dissolve, afterwards coagulate; and as it is in this state lighter than the liquid, it will rise to the surface; bringing with it all its impurities. It is this which makes _the scum_. The rising of the hardened albumen has the same effect in clarifying stock as the white of eggs; and, as a rule, it may be said that the more scum there is, the clearer will be the stock. Always take care that the fire is very regular. V. REMOVE THE SCUM when it rises thickly, and do not let the stock boil, because then one portion of the scum will be dissolved, and the other go to the bottom of the pot; thus rendering it very difficult to obtain a clear broth. If the fire is regular, it will not be necessary to add cold water in order to make the scum rise; but if the fire is too large at first, it will then be necessary to do so. VI. WHEN THE STOCK IS WELL SKIMMED, and begins to boil, put in salt and vegetables, which may be two or three carrots, two turnips, one parsnip, a bunch of leeks and celery tied together. You can add, according to taste, a piece of cabbage, two or three cloves stuck in an onion, and a tomato. The latter gives a very agreeable flavour to the stock. If fried onion be added, it ought, according to the advice of a famous French _chef_, to be tied in a little bag: without this precaution, the colour of the stock is liable to be clouded. VII. BY THIS TIME we will now suppose that you have chopped the bones which were separated from the meat, and those which were left from the roast meat of the day before. Remember, as was before pointed out, that the more these are broken, the more gelatine you will have. The best way to break them up is to pound them roughly in an iron mortar, adding, from time to time, a little water, to prevent them getting heated. It is a great saving thus to make use of the bones of meat, which, in too many English families, we fear, are entirely wasted; for it is certain, as previously stated (No. 102), that two ounces of bone contain as much gelatine (which is the nutritive portion of stock) as one pound of meat. In their broken state tie them up in a bag, and put them in the stock-pot; adding the gristly parts of cold meat, and trimmings, which can be used for no other purpose. If, to make up the weight, you have received from the butcher a piece of mutton or veal, broil it slightly over a clear fire before putting it in the stock-pot, and be very careful that it does not contract the least taste of being smoked or burnt. VIII. ADD NOW THE VEGETABLES, which, to a certain extent, will stop the boiling of the stock. Wait, therefore, till it simmers well up again, then draw it to the side of the fire, and keep it gently simmering till it is served, preserving, as before said, your fire always the same. Cover the stock-pot well, to prevent evaporation; do not fill it up, even if you take out a little stock, unless the meat is exposed; in which case a little boiling water may be added, but only enough to cover it. After six hours' slow and gentle simmering, the stock is done; and it should not be continued on the fire, longer than is necessary, or it will tend to insipidity. _Note_.--It is on a good stock, or first good broth and sauce, that excellence in cookery depends. If the preparation of this basis of the culinary art is intrusted to negligent or ignorant persons, and the stock is not well skimmed, but indifferent results will be obtained. The stock will never be clear; and when it is obliged to be clarified, it is deteriorated both in quality and flavour. In the proper management of the stock-pot an immense deal of trouble is saved, inasmuch as one stock, in a small dinner, serves for all purposes. Above all things, the greatest economy, consistent with excellence, should be practised, and the price of everything which enters the kitchen correctly ascertained. The _theory_ of this part of Household Management may appear trifling; but its practice is extensive, and therefore it requires the best attention. [Illustration] RECIPES. CHAPTER VI. FRUIT AND VEGETABLE SOUPS. [_It will be seen, by reference to the following Recipes, that an entirely original and most intelligible system has been pursued in explaining the preparation of each dish. We would recommend the young housekeeper, cook, or whoever may be engaged in the important task of "getting ready" the dinner, or other meal, to follow precisely the order in which the recipes are given. Thus, let them first place on their table all the INGREDIENTS necessary; then the modus operandi, or MODE of preparation, will be easily managed. By a careful reading, too, of the recipes, there will not be the slightest difficulty in arranging a repast for any number of persons, and an accurate notion will be gained of the TIME the cooling of each dish will occupy, of the periods at which it is SEASONABLE, as also of its_ AVERAGE COST. _The addition of the natural history, and the description of the various properties of the edible articles in common use in every family, will be serviceable both in a practical and an educational point of view._ _Speaking specially of the Recipes for Soups, it may be added, that by the employment of the_ BEST, MEDIUM, _or_ COMMON STOCK, _the quality of the Soups and their cost may be proportionately increased or lessened._] STOCKS FOR ALL KINDS OF SOUPS. RICH STRONG STOCK. 104. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of shin of beef, 4 lbs. of knuckle of veal, 3/4 lb. of good lean ham; any poultry trimmings; 3 small onions, 3 small carrots, 3 turnips (the latter should be omitted in summer, lest they ferment), 1 head of celery, a few chopped mushrooms, when obtainable; 1 tomato, a bunch of savoury herbs, not forgetting parsley; 1-1/2 oz. of salt, 12 white peppercorns, 6 cloves, 3 small blades of mace, 4 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Line a delicately clean stewpan with the ham cut in thin broad slices, carefully trimming off all its rusty fat; cut up the beef and veal in pieces about 3 inches square, and lay them on the ham; set it on the stove, and draw it down, and stir frequently. When the meat is equally browned, put in the beef and veal bones, the poultry trimmings, and pour in the cold water. Skim well, and occasionally add a little cold water, to stop its boiling, until it becomes quite clear; then put in all the other ingredients, and simmer very slowly for 5 hours. Do not let it come to a brisk boil, that the stock be not wasted, and that its colour may be preserved. Strain through a very fine hair sieve, or tammy, and it will be fit for use. _Time_.--5 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. per quart. MEDIUM STOCK. 105. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of shin of beef, or 4 lbs. of knuckle of veal, or 2 lbs. of each; any bones, trimmings of poultry, or fresh meat, 1/2 a lb. of lean bacon or ham, 2 oz. of butter, 2 large onions, each stuck with 3 cloves; 1 turnip, 3 carrots, 1/2 a leek, 1 head of celery, 2 oz. of salt, 1/2 a teaspoonful of whole pepper, 1 large blade of mace, 1 small bunch of savoury herbs, 4 quarts and 1/2 pint of cold water. _Mode_.--Cut up the meat and bacon or ham into pieces about 3 inches square; rub the butter on the bottom of the stewpan; put in 1/2 a pint of water, the meat, and all the other ingredients. Cover the stewpan, and place it on a sharp fire, occasionally stirring its contents. When the bottom of the pan becomes covered with a pale, jelly-like substance, add 4 quarts of cold water, and simmer very gently for 5 hours. As we have said before, do not let it boil quickly. Skim off every particle of grease whilst it is doing, and strain it through a fine hair sieve. This is the basis of many of the soups afterwards mentioned, and will be found quite strong enough for ordinary purposes. _Time_.--5-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per quart. ECONOMICAL STOCK. 106. INGREDIENTS.--The liquor in which a joint of meat has been boiled, say 4 quarts; trimmings of fresh meat or poultry, shank-bones, &c., roast-beef bones, any pieces the larder may furnish; vegetables, spices, and the same seasoning as in the foregoing recipe. _Mode_.--Let all the ingredients simmer gently for 6 hours, taking care to skim carefully at first. Strain it off, and put by for use. _Time_.--6 hours. _Average cost_, 3d. per quart. WHITE STOCK. (_To be Used in the Preparation of White Soups_.) 107. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of knuckle of veal, any poultry trimmings, 4 slices of lean ham, 1 carrot, 2 onions, 1 head of celery, 12 white peppercorns, 1 oz. of salt, 1 blade of mace, 1 oz. butter, 4 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the veal, and put it with the bones and trimmings of poultry, and the ham, into the stewpan, which has been rubbed with the butter. Moisten with 1/2 a pint of water, and simmer till the gravy begins to flow. Then add the 4 quarts of water and the remainder of the ingredients; simmer for 5 hours. After skimming and straining it carefully through a very fine hair sieve, it will be ready for use. _Time_.--5-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per quart. _Note_.--When stronger stock is desired, double the quantity of veal, or put in an old fowl. The liquor in which a young turkey has been boiled, is an excellent addition to all white stock or soups. BROWNING FOR STOCK. 108. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of powdered sugar, and 1/2 a pint of water. _Mode_.--Place the sugar in a stewpan over a slow fire until it begins to melt, keeping it stirred with a wooden spoon until it becomes black, then add the water, and let it dissolve. Cork closely, and use a few drops when required. _Note_.--In France, burnt onions are made use of for the purpose of browning. As a general rule, the process of browning is to be discouraged, as apt to impart a slightly unpleasant flavour to the stock, and, consequently, all soups made from it. TO CLARIFY STOCK. 109. INGREDIENTS.--The whites of 2 eggs, 1/2 pint of water, 2 quarts of stock. _Mode_.--Supposing that by some accident the soup is not quite clear, and that its quantity is 2 quarts, take the whites of 2 eggs, carefully separated from their yolks, whisk them well together with the water, and add gradually the 2 quarts of boiling stock, still whisking. Place the soup on the fire, and when boiling and well skimmed, whisk the eggs with it till nearly boiling again; then draw it from the fire, and let it settle, until the whites of the eggs become separated. Pass through a fine cloth, and the soup should be clear. _Note_.--The rule is, that all clear soups should be of a light straw colour, and should not savour too strongly of the meat; and that all white or brown thick soups should have no more consistency than will enable them to adhere slightly to the spoon when hot. All _purées_ should be somewhat thicker. ALMOND SOUP. 110. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of lean beef or veal, 1/2 a scrag of mutton, 1 oz. of vermicelli, 4 blades of mace, 6 cloves, 1/2 lb. of sweet almonds, the yolks of 6 eggs, 1 gill of thick cream, rather more than 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Boil the beef, or veal, and the mutton, gently in water that will cover them, till the gravy is very strong, and the meat very tender; then strain off the gravy, and set it on the fire with the specified quantities of vermicelli, mace, and cloves, to 2 quarts. Let it boil till it has the flavour of the spices. Have ready the almonds, blanched and pounded very fine; the yolks of the eggs boiled hard; mixing the almonds, whilst pounding, with a little of the soup, lest the latter should grow oily. Pound them till they are a mere pulp, and keep adding to them, by degrees, a little soup until they are thoroughly mixed together. Let the soup be cool when mixing, and do it perfectly smooth. Strain it through a sieve, set it on the fire, stir frequently, and serve hot. Just before taking it up, add the cream. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_ per quart, 2s. 3d. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: ALMOND & BLOSSOM.] THE ALMOND-TREE.--This tree is indigenous to the northern parts of Asia and Africa, but it is now cultivated in Europe, especially in the south of France, Italy, and Spain. It flowers in spring, and produces its fruit in August. Although there are two kinds of almonds, the _sweet_ and the _bitter,_ they are considered as only varieties of the same species. The best sweet almonds brought to England, are called the Syrian or Jordan, and come from Malaga; the inferior qualities are brought from Valentia and Italy. _Bitter_ almonds come principally from Magadore. Anciently, the almond was much esteemed by the nations of the East. Jacob included it among the presents which he designed for Joseph. The Greeks called it the Greek or Thasian nut, and the Romans believed that by eating half a dozen of them, they were secured against drunkenness, however deeply they might imbibe. Almonds, however, are considered as very indigestible. The _bitter_ contain, too, principles which produce two violent poisons,--prussic acid and a kind of volatile oil. It is consequently dangerous to eat them in large quantities. Almonds pounded together with a little sugar and water, however, produce a milk similar to that which is yielded by animals. Their oil is used for making fine soap, and their cake as a cosmetic. APPLE SOUP. 111. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of good boiling apples, 3/4 teaspoonful of white pepper, 6 cloves, cayenne or ginger to taste, 3 quarts of medium stock. _Mode_.--Peel and quarter the apples, taking out their cores; put them into the stock, stew them gently till tender. Rub the whole through a strainer, add the seasoning, give it one boil up, and serve. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_ per quart, 1s. _Seasonable_ from September to December. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. [Illustration: APPLE AND BLOSSOM.] THE APPLE.--This useful fruit is mentioned in Holy Writ; and Homer describes it as valuable in his time. It was brought from the East by the Romans, who held it in the highest estimation. Indeed, some of the citizens of the "Eternal city" distinguished certain favourite apples by their names. Thus the Manlians were called after Manlius, the Claudians after Claudius, and the Appians after Appius. Others were designated after the country whence they were brought; as the Sidonians, the Epirotes, and the Greeks. The best varieties are natives of Asia, and have, by grafting them upon others, been introduced into Europe. The crab, found in our hedges, is the only variety indigenous to Britain; therefore, for the introduction of other kinds we are, no doubt, indebted to the Romans. In the time of the Saxon heptarchy, both Devon and Somerset were distinguished as _the apple country_; and there are still existing in Herefordshire some trees said to have been planted in the time of William the Conqueror. From that time to this, the varieties of this precious fruit have gone on increasing, and are now said to number upwards of 1,500. It is peculiar to the temperate zone, being found neither in Lapland, nor within the tropics. The best baking apples for early use are the Colvilles; the best for autumn are the rennets and pearmains; and the best for winter and spring are russets. The best table, or eating apples, are the Margarets for early use; the Kentish codlin and summer pearmain for summer; and for autumn, winter, or spring, the Dowton, golden and other pippins, as the ribstone, with small russets. As a food, the apple cannot be considered to rank high, as more than the half of it consists of water, and the rest of its properties are not the most nourishing. It is, however, a useful adjunct to other kinds of food, and, when cooked, is esteemed as slightly laxative. ARTICHOKE (JERUSALEM) SOUP. (_A White Soup_.) 112. INGREDIENTS.--3 slices of lean bacon or ham, 1/2 a head of celery, 1 turnip, 1 onion, 3 oz. of butter, 4 lbs. of artichokes, 1 pint of boiling milk, or 1/2 pint of boiling cream, salt and cayenne to taste, 2 lumps of sugar, 2-1/2 quarts of white stock. _Mode_.--Put the bacon and vegetables, which should be cut into thin slices, into the stewpan with the butter. Braise these for 1/4 of an hour, keeping them well stirred. Wash and pare the artichokes, and after cutting them into thin slices, add them, with a pint of stock, to the other ingredients. When these have gently stewed down to a smooth pulp, put in the remainder of the stock. Stir it well, adding the seasoning, and when it has simmered for five minutes, pass it through a strainer. Now pour it back into the stewpan, let it again simmer five minutes, taking care to skim it well, and stir it to the boiling milk or cream. Serve with small sippets of bread fried in butter. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_ per quart, 1s. 2d. _Seasonable_ from June to October. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. ASPARAGUS SOUP. I. 113. INGREDIENTS.--5 lbs. of lean beef, 3 slices of bacon, 1/2 pint of pale ale, a few leaves of white beet, spinach, 1 cabbage lettuce, a little mint, sorrel, and marjoram, a pint of asparagus-tops cut small, the crust of 1 French roll, seasoning to taste, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Put the beef, cut in pieces and rolled in flour, into a stewpan, with the bacon at the bottom; cover it close, and set it on a slow fire, stirring it now and then till the gravy is drawn. Put in the water and ale, and season to taste with pepper and salt, and let it stew gently for 2 hours; then strain the liquor, and take off the fat, and add the white beet, spinach, cabbage lettuce, and mint, sorrel, and sweet marjoram, pounded. Let these boil up in the liquor, then put in the asparagus-tops cut small, and allow them to boil till all is tender. Serve hot, with the French roll in the dish. _Time_.--Altogether 3 hours. _Average cost_ per quart, 1s. 9d. _Seasonable_ from May to August. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. II. 114. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of split peas, a teacupful of gravy, 4 young onions, 1 lettuce cut small, 1/2 a head of celery, 1/2 a pint of asparagus cut small, 1/2 a pint of cream, 3 quarts of water: colour the soup with spinach juice. _Mode_.--Boil the peas, and rub them through a sieve; add the gravy, and then stew by themselves the celery, onions, lettuce, and asparagus, with the water. After this, stew altogether, and add the colouring and cream, and serve. _Time_.--Peas 2-1/2 hours, vegetables 1 hour; altogether 4 hours. _Average cost_ per quart, 1s. [Illustration: ASPARAGUS.] ASPARAGUS.--The ancients called all the sprouts of young vegetables asparagus, whence the name, which is now limited to a particular species, embracing artichoke, alisander, asparagus, cardoon, rampion, and sea-kale. They are originally mostly wild seacoast plants; and, in this state, asparagus may still be found on the northern as well as southern shores of Britain. It is often vulgarly called, in London, _sparrowgrass_; and, in it's cultivated form, hardly bears any resemblance to the original plant. Immense quantities of it are raised for the London market, at Mortlake and Deptford; but it belongs rather to the classes of luxurious than necessary food. It is light and easily digested, but is not very nutritious. BAKED SOUP. 115. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of any kind of meat, any trimmings or odd pieces; 2 onions, 2 carrots, 2 oz. of rice, 1 pint of split peas, pepper and salt to taste, 4 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut the meat and vegetables in slices, add to them the rice and peas, season with pepper and salt. Put the whole in a jar, fill up with the water, cover very closely, and bake for 4 hours. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 2-1/2d. per quart. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 10 or 12 persons. _Note_.--This will be found a very cheap and wholesome soup, and will be convenient in those cases where baking is more easily performed than boiling. BARLEY SOUP. 116. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of shin of beef, 1/4 lb. of pearl barley, a large bunch of parsley, 4 onions, 6 potatoes, salt and pepper, 4 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Put in all the ingredients, and simmer gently for 3 hours. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 2-1/2d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year, but more suitable for winter. [Illustration: BARLEY.] BARLEY.--This, in the order of cereal grasses, is, in Britain, the next plant to wheat in point of value, and exhibits several species and varieties. From what country it comes originally, is not known, but it was cultivated in the earliest ages of antiquity, as the Egyptians were afflicted with the loss of it in the ear, in the time of Moses. It was a favourite grain with the Athenians, but it was esteemed as an ignominious food by the Romans. Notwithstanding this, however, it was much used by them, as it was in former times by the English, and still is, in the Border counties, in Cornwall, and also in Wales. In other parts of England, it is used mostly for malting purposes. It is less nutritive than wheat; and in 100 parts, has of starch 79, gluten 6, saccharine matter 7, husk 8. It is, however, a lighter and less stimulating food than wheat, which renders a decoction of it well adapted for invalids whose digestion is weak. BREAD SOUP. (_Economical_.) 117. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of bread crusts, 2 oz. butter, 1 quart of common stock. _Mode_.--Boil the bread crusts in the stock with the butter; beat the whole with a spoon, and keep it boiling till the bread and stock are well mixed. Season with a little salt. _Time_.--Half an hour. _Average cost_ per quart, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Note_.--This is a cheap recipe, and will be found useful where extreme economy is an object. [Illustration: QUERN, or GRINDING-MILL.] BREAD.--The origin of bread is involved in the obscurity of distant ages. The Greeks attributed its invention to Pan; but before they, themselves, had an existence, it was, no doubt, in use among the primitive nations of mankind. The Chaldeans and the Egyptians were acquainted with it, and Sarah, the companion of Abraham, mixed flour and water together, kneaded it, and covered it with ashes on the hearth. The Scriptures inform us that leavened bread was known to the Israelites, but it is not known when the art of fermenting it was discovered. It is said that the Romans learnt it during their wars with Perseus, king of Macedon, and that it was introduced to the "imperial city" about 200 years before the birth of Christ. With them it no doubt found its way into Britain; but after their departure from the island, it probably ceased to be used. We know that King Alfred allowed the unfermented cakes to burn in the neatherd's cottage; and that, even in the sixteenth century, unfermented cakes, kneaded by the women, were the only kind of bread known to the inhabitants of Norway and Sweden. The Italians of this day consume the greater portion of their flour in the form of _polenta_, or soft pudding, vermicelli, and macaroni; and, in the remoter districts of Scotland, much unfermented bread is still used. We give a cut of the _quern_ grinding-mill, which, towards the end of the last century, was in use in that country, and which is thus described by Dr. Johnson in his "Journey to the Hebrides:"--"It consists of two stones about a foot and half in diameter; the lower is a little convex, to which the concavity of the upper must be fitted. In the middle of the upper stone is a round hole, and on one side is a long handle. The grinder sheds the corn gradually into the hole with one hand, and works the handle round with the other. The corn slides down the convexity of the lower stone, and by the motion of the upper, is ground in its passage." Such a primitive piece of machinery, it may safely be said, has entirely disappeared from this country.--In other parts of this work, we shall have opportunities of speaking of bread and bread-making, which, from its great and general use in the nourishment of mankind, has emphatically been called the "staff of life." The necessity, therefore, of having it both pure and good is of the first importance. CABBAGE SOUP. 118. INGREDIENTS.--1 large cabbage, 3 carrots, 2 onions, 4 or 5 slices of lean bacon, salt and pepper to taste, 2 quarts of medium stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Scald the cabbage, exit it up and drain it. Line the stewpan with the bacon, put in the cabbage, carrots, and onions; moisten with skimmings from the stock, and simmer very gently, till the cabbage is tender; add the stock, stew softly for half an hour, and carefully skim off every particle of fat. Season and serve. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: CABBAGE SEEDING.] THE CABBAGE.--It is remarkable, that although there is no country in the world now more plentifully supplied with fruits and vegetables than Great Britain, yet the greater number of these had no existence in it before the time of Henry VIII. Anderson, writing under the date of 1548, says, "The English cultivated scarcely any vegetables before the last two centuries. At the commencement of the reign, of Henry VIII. neither salad, nor carrots, nor cabbages, nor radishes, nor any other comestibles of a like nature, were grown in any part of the kingdom; they came from Holland and Flanders." The original of all the cabbage tribe is the wild plant _sea-colewort_, which is to be found _wasting_ whatever sweetness it may have on the desert air, on many of the cliffs of the south coast of England. In this state, it scarcely weighs more than half an ounce, yet, in a cultivated state, to what dimensions can it be made to grow! However greatly the whole of the tribe is esteemed among the moderns, by the ancients they were held in yet higher estimation. The Egyptians adored and raised altars to them, and the Greeks and Romans ascribed many of the most exalted virtues to them. Cato affirmed, that the cabbage cured all diseases, and declared, that it was to its use that the Romans were enabled to live in health and without the assistance of physicians for 600 years. It was introduced by that people into Germany, Gaul, and, no doubt, Britain; although, in this last, it may have been suffered to pass into desuetude for some centuries. The whole tribe is in general wholesome and nutritive, and forms a valuable adjunct to animal food. SOUP A LA CANTATRICE. (_An Excellent Soup, very Beneficial for the Voice_.) 119. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of sago, 1/2 pint of cream, the yolks of 3 eggs, 1 lump of sugar, and seasoning to taste, 1 bay-leaf (if liked), 2 quarts of medium stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Having washed the sago in boiling water, let it be gradually added to the nearly boiling stock. Simmer for 1/2 an hour, when it should be well dissolved. Beat up the yolks of the eggs, add to them the boiling cream; stir these quickly in the soup, and serve immediately. Do not let the soup boil, or the eggs will curdle. _Time_.--40 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This is a soup, the principal ingredients of which, sago and eggs, have always been deemed very beneficial to the chest and throat. In various quantities, and in different preparations, these have been partaken of by the principal singers of the day, including the celebrated Swedish Nightingale, Jenny Lind, and, as they have always avowed, with considerable advantage to the voice, in singing. CARROT SOUP. I. 120. INGREDIENTS.--4 quarts of liquor in which a leg of mutton or beef has been boiled, a few beef-bones, 6 large carrots, 2 large onions, 1 turnip; seasoning of salt and pepper to taste; cayenne. _Mode_.--Put the liquor, bones, onions, turnip, pepper, and salt, into a stewpan, and simmer for 3 hours. Scrape and cut the carrots thin, strain the soup on them, and stew them till soft enough to pulp through a hair sieve or coarse cloth; then boil the pulp with the soup, which should be of the consistency of pea-soup. Add cayenne. Pulp only the red part of the carrot, and make this soup the day before it is wanted. _Time_.--4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_ per quart, 1-1/2d. _Seasonable_ from October to March. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. II. 121. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of carrots, 3 oz. of butter, seasoning to taste of salt and cayenne, 2 quarts of stock or gravy soup. _Mode_.--Scrape and cut out all specks from the carrots, wash, and wipe them dry, and then reduce them into quarter-inch slices. Put the butter into a large stewpan, and when it is melted, add 2 lbs. of the sliced carrots, and let them stew gently for an hour without browning. Add to them the soup, and allow them to simmer till tender,--say for nearly an hour. Press them through a strainer with the soup, and add salt and cayenne if required. Boil the whole gently for 5 minutes, skim well, and serve as hot as possible. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_ per quart, 1s. 1d. [Illustration: TAZZA AND CARROT LEAVES.] THE CARROT.--There is a wild carrot which grows in England; but it is white and small, and not much esteemed. The garden carrot in general use, was introduced in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and was, at first, so highly esteemed, that the ladies wore leaves of it in their head-dresses. It is of great value in the culinary art, especially for soups and stews. It can be used also for beer instead of malt, and, in distillation, it yields a large quantity of spirit. The carrot is proportionably valuable as it has more of the red than the yellow part. There is a large red variety much used by the farmers for colouring butter. As a garden vegetable, it is what is called the orange-carrot that is usually cultivated. As a fattening food for cattle, it is excellent; but for man it is indigestible, on account of its fibrous matter. Of 1,000 parts, 95 consist of sugar, and 3 of starch.--The accompanying cut represents a pretty winter ornament, obtained by placing a cut from the top of the carrot-root in a shallow vessel of water, when the young leaves spring forth with a charming freshness and fullness. CELERY SOUP. 122. INGREDIENTS.--9 heads of celery, 1 teaspoonful of salt, nutmeg to taste, 1 lump of sugar, 1/2 pint of strong stock, a pint of cream, and 2 quarts of boiling water. _Mode_.--Cut the celery into small pieces; throw it into the water, seasoned with the nutmeg, salt, and sugar. Boil it till sufficiently tender; pass it through a sieve, add the stock, and simmer it for half an hour. Now put in the cream, bring it to the boiling point, and serve immediately. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. _Note_.--This soup can be made brown, instead of white, by omitting the cream, and colouring it a little. When celery cannot be procured, half a drachm of the seed, finely pounded, will give a flavour to the soup, if put in a quarter of an hour before it is done. A little of the essence of celery will answer the same purpose. CELERY.--This plant is indigenous to Britain, and, in its wild state, grows by the side of ditches and along some parts of the seacoast. In this state it is called _smallaqe_, and, to some extent, is a dangerous narcotic. By cultivation, however, it has been brought to the fine flavour which the garden plant possesses. In the vicinity of Manchester it is raised to an enormous size. When our natural observation is assisted by the accurate results ascertained by the light of science, how infinitely does it enhance our delight in contemplating the products of nature! To know, for example, that the endless variety of colour which we see in plants is developed only by the rays of the sun, is to know a truism sublime by its very comprehensiveness. The cause of the whiteness of celery is nothing more than the want of light in its vegetation, and in order that this effect may be produced, the plant is almost wholly covered with earth; the tops of the leaves alone being suffered to appear above the ground. CHANTILLY SOUP. 123. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of young green peas, a small bunch of parsley, 2 young onions, 2 quarts of medium stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Boil the peas till quite tender, with the parsley and onions; then rub them through a sieve, and pour the stock to them. Do not let it boil after the peas are added, or you will spoil the colour. Serve very hot. _Time_.--Half an hour. _Average_ cost, 1s. 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from June to the end of August. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--Cold peas pounded in a mortar, with a little stock added to them, make a very good soup in haste. Parsley.--Among the Greeks, in the classic ages, a crown of parsley was awarded, both in the Nemaean and Isthmian games, and the voluptuous Anacreon pronounces this beautiful herb the emblem of joy and festivity. It has an elegant leaf, and is extensively used in the culinary art. When it was introduced to Britain is not known. There are several varieties,--the _plain_-leaved and the _curled_-leaved, _celery_-parsley, _Hamburg_ parsley, and _purslane_. The curled is the best, and, from the form of its leaf, has a beautiful appearance on a dish as a garnish. Its flavour is, to many, very agreeable in soups; and although to rabbits, hares, and sheep it is a luxury, to parrots it is a poison. The celery-parsley is used as a celery, and the Hamburg is cultivated only for its roots, which are used as parsnips or carrots, to eat with meat. The purslane is a native of South America, and is not now much in use. CHESTNUT (SPANISH) SOUP. 124. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of Spanish chestnuts, 1/4 pint of cream; seasoning to taste of salt, cayenne, and mace; 1 quart of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Take the outer rind from the chestnuts, and put them into a large pan of warm water. As soon as this becomes too hot for the fingers to remain in it, take out the chestnuts, peel them quickly, and immerse them in cold water, and wipe and weigh them. Now cover them with good stock, and stew them gently for rather more than 3/4 of an hour, or until they break when touched with a fork; then drain, pound, and rub them through a fine sieve reversed; add sufficient stock, mace, cayenne, and salt, and stir it often until it boils, and put in the cream. The stock in which the chestnuts are boiled can be used for the soup, when its sweetness is not objected to, or it may, in part, be added to it; and the rule is, that 3/4 lb. of chestnuts should be given to each quart of soup. _Time_.--rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_ per quart, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ from October to February. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. [Illustration: CHESTNUT.] THE CHESTNUT.--This fruit is said, by some, to have originally come from Sardis, in Lydia; and by others, from Castanea, a city of Thessaly, from which it takes its name. By the ancients it was much used as a food, and is still common in France and Italy, to which countries it is, by some, considered indigenous. In the southern part of the European continent, it is eaten both raw and roasted. The tree was introduced into Britain by the Romans; but it only flourishes in the warmer parts of the island, the fruit rarely arriving at maturity in Scotland. It attains a great age, as well as an immense size. As a food, it is the least oily and most farinaceous of all the nuts, and, therefore, the easiest of digestion. The tree called the _horse chestnut_ is very different, although its fruit very much resembles that of the other. Its "nuts," though eaten by horses and some other animals, are unsuitable for human food. COCOA-NUT SOUP. 125. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of grated cocoa-nut, 6 oz. of rice flour, 1/2 a teaspoonful of mace; seasoning to taste of cayenne and salt; 1/4 of a pint of boiling cream, 3 quarts of medium stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Take the dark rind from the cocoa-nut, and grate it down small on a clean grater; weigh it, and allow, for each quart of stock, 2 oz. of the cocoa-nut. Simmer it gently for 1 hour in the stock, which should then be strained closely from it, and thickened for table. _Time_.--2-1/4 hours. _Average cost_ per quart, 1s. 3d. _Seasonable_ in Autumn. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. [Illustration: COCOA-NUT PALM.] [Illustration: NUT & BLOSSOM.] THE COCOA-NUT.--This is the fruit of one of the palms, than which it is questionable if there is any other species of tree marking, in itself, so abundantly the goodness of Providence, in making provision for the wants of man. It grows wild in the Indian seas, and in the eastern parts of Asia; and thence it has been introduced into every part of the tropical regions. To the natives of those climates, its bark supplies the material for creating their dwellings; its leaves, the means of roofing them; and the leaf-stalks, a kind of gauze for covering their windows, or protecting the baby in the cradle. It is also made into lanterns, masks to screen the face from the heat of the sun, baskets, wicker-work, and even a kind of paper for writing on. Combs, brooms, torches, ropes, matting, and sailcloth are made of its fibers. With these, too, beds are made and cushions stuffed. Oars are supplied by the leaves; drinking-cups, spoons, and other domestic utensils by the shells of the nuts; milk by its juice, of which, also, a kind of honey and sugar are prepared. When fermented, it furnishes the means of intoxication; and when the fibres are burned, their ashes supply an alkali for making soap. The buds of the tree bear a striking resemblance to cabbage when boiled; but when they are cropped, the tree dies. In a fresh state, the kernel is eaten raw, and its juice is a most agreeable and refreshing beverage. When the nut is imported to this country, its fruit is, in general, comparatively dry, and is considered indigestible. The tree is one of the least productive of the palm tribe. SOUP A LA CRECY. 126. INGREDIENTS.--4 carrots, 2 sliced onions, 1 cut lettuce, and chervil; 2 oz. butter, 1 pint of lentils, the crumbs of 2 French rolls, half a teacupful of rice, 2 quarts of medium stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Put the vegetables with the butter in the stewpan, and let them simmer 5 minutes; then add the lentils and 1 pint of the stock, and stew gently for half an hour. Now fill it up with the remainder of the stock, let it boil another hour, and put in the crumb of the rolls. When well soaked, rub all through a tammy. Have ready the rice boiled; pour the soup over this, and serve. _Time_.--1-3/4 hour. _Average cost_,1s. 2d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: THE LENTIL.] THE LENTIL.--This belongs to the legumious or _pulse_ kind of vegetables, which rank next to the corn plants in their nutritive properties. The lentil is a variety of the bean tribe, but in England is not used as human food, although considered the best of all kinds for pigeons. On the Continent it is cultivated for soups, as well as for other preparations for the table; and among the presents which David received from Shobi, as recounted in the Scriptures, were beans, lentils, and parched pulse. Among the Egyptians it was extensively used, and among the Greeks, the Stoics had a maxim, which declared, that "a wise man acts always with reason, and prepares his own lentils." Among the Romans it was not much esteemed, and from them the English may have inherited a prejudice against it, on account, it is said, of its rendering men indolent. It takes its name from _lentus_ 'slow,' and, according to Pliny, produces mildness and moderation of temper. CUCUMBER SOUP (French Recipe). 127. INGREDIENTS.--1 large cucumber, a piece of butter the size of a walnut, a little chervil and sorrel cut in large pieces, salt and pepper to taste, the yolks of 2 eggs, 1 gill of cream, 1 quart of medium stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Pare the cucumber, quarter it, and take out the seeds; cut it in thin slices, put these on a plate with a little salt, to draw the water from them; drain, and put them in your stewpan, with the butter. When they are warmed through, without being browned, pour the stock on them. Add the sorrel, chervil, and seasoning, and boil for 40 minutes. Mix the well-beaten yolks of the eggs with the cream, which add at the moment of serving. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from June to September. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. THE CUCUMBER.--The antiquity of this fruit is very great. In the sacred writings we find that the people of Israel regretted it, whilst sojourning in the desert; and at the present time, the cucumber, and other fruits of its class, form a large portion of the food of the Egyptian people. By the Eastern nations generally, as well as by the Greeks and Romans, it was greatly esteemed. Like the melon, it was originally brought from Asia by the Romans, and in the 14th century it was common in England, although, in the time of the wars of "the Roses," it seems no longer to have been cultivated. It is a cold food, and of difficult digestion when eaten raw. As a preserved sweetmeat, however, it is esteemed one of the most agreeable. EGG SOUP. 128. INGREDIENTS.--A tablespoonful of flour, 4 eggs, 2 small blades of finely-pounded mace, 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Beat up the flour smoothly in a teaspoonful of cold stock, and put in the eggs; throw them into boiling stock, stirring all the time. Simmer for 1/4 of an hour. Season and serve with a French roll in the tureen, or fried sippets of bread. _Time_. 1/2 an hour. _Average cost_,11d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. SOUP A LA FLAMANDE (Flemish). I. 129. INGREDIENTS.--1 turnip, 1 small carrot, 1/2 head of celery, 6 green onions shred very fine, 1 lettuce cut small, chervil, 1/4 pint of asparagus cut small, 1/4 pint of peas, 2 oz. butter, the yolks of 4 eggs, 1/2 pint of cream, salt to taste, 1 lump of sugar, 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Put the vegetables in the butter to stew gently for an hour with a teacupful of stock; then add the remainder of the stock, and simmer for another hour. Now beat the yolks of the eggs well, mix with the cream (previously boiled), and strain through a hair sieve. Take the soup off the fire, put the eggs, &c. to it, and keep stirring it well. Bring it to a boil, but do not leave off stirring, or the eggs will curdle. Season with salt, and add the sugar. _Time_.--24 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from May to August. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. CHERVIL.--Although the roots of this plant are poisonous, its leaves are tender, and are used in salads. In antiquity it made a relishing dish, when prepared with oil, wine, and gravy. It is a native of various parts of Europe; and the species cultivated in the gardens of Paris, has beautifully frizzled leaves. II. 130. INGREDIENTS.--5 onions, 5 heads of celery, 10 moderate-sized potatoes, 3 oz. butter, 1/2 pint of water, 1/2 pint of cream, 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Slice the onions, celery, and potatoes, and put them with the butter and water into a stewpan, and simmer for an hour. Then fill up the stewpan with stock, and boil gently till the potatoes are done, which will be in about an hour. Rub all through a tammy, and add the cream (previously boiled). Do not let it boil after the cream is put in. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. __Average cost_,1s. 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to May. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This soup can be made with water instead of stock. SOUP A LA JULIENNE. [Illustration: STRIPS OF VEGETABLE.] 131. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of carrots, 1/2 pint of turnips, 1/4 pint of onions, 2 or 3 leeks, 1/2 head of celery, 1 lettuce, a little sorrel and chervil, if liked, 2 oz. of butter, 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Cut the vegetables into strips of about 1-1/4 inch long, and be particular they are all the same size, or some will be hard whilst the others will be done to a pulp. Cut the lettuce, sorrel, and chervil into larger pieces; fry the carrots in the butter, and pour the stock boiling to them. When this is done, add all the other vegetables, and herbs, and stew gently for at least an hour. Skim off all the fat, pour the soup over thin slices of bread, cut round about the size of a shilling, and serve. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--In summer, green peas, asparagus-tops, French beans, &c. can be added. When the vegetables are very strong, instead of frying them in butter at first, they should be blanched, and afterwards simmered in the stock. SORREL.--This is one of the _spinaceous_ plants, which take their name from spinach, which is the chief among them. It is little used in English cookery, but a great deal in French, in which it is employed for soups, sauces, and salads. In English meadows it is usually left to grow wild; but in France, where it is cultivated, its flavour is greatly improved. KALE BROSE (a Scotch Recipe). 132. INGREDIENTS.--Half an ox-head or cow-heel, a teacupful of toasted oatmeal, salt to taste, 2 handfuls of greens, 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Make a broth of the ox-head or cow-heel, and boil it till oil floats on the top of the liquor, then boil the greens, shred, in it. Put the oatmeal, with a little salt, into a basin, and mix with it quickly a teacupful of the fat broth: it should not run into one doughy mass, but form knots. Stir it into the whole, give one boil, and serve very hot. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year, but more suitable in winter. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. LEEK SOUP. I. 133. INGREDIENTS.--A sheep's head, 3 quarts of water, 12 leeks cut small, pepper and salt to taste, oatmeal to thicken. _Mode_.--Prepare the head, either by skinning or cleaning the skin very nicely; split it in two; take out the brains, and put it into boiling water; add the leeks and seasoning, and simmer very gently for 4 hours. Mix smoothly, with cold water, as much oatmeal as will make the soup tolerably thick; pour it into the soup; continue stirring till the whole is blended and well done, and serve. _Time_.--4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. II. COMMONLY CALLED COCK-A-LEEKIE. 134. INGREDIENTS.--A capon or large fowl (sometimes an old cock, from which the recipe takes its name, is used), which should be trussed as for boiling; 2 or 3 bunches of fine leeks, 5 quarts of stock No. 105, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Well wash the leeks (and, if old, scald them in boiling water for a few minutes), taking off the roots and part of the heads, and cut them into lengths of about an inch. Put the fowl into the stock, with, at first, one half of the leeks, and allow it to simmer gently. In half an hour add the remaining leeks, and then it may simmer for 3 or 4 hours longer. It should be carefully skimmed, and can be seasoned to taste. In serving, take out the fowl, and carve it neatly, placing the pieces in a tureen, and pouring over them the soup, which should be very thick of leeks (a _purée_ of leeks the French would call it). _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. per quart; or, with stock No. 106, 1s. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. _Note_.--Without the fowl, the above, which would then be merely called leek soup, is very good, and also economical. Cock-a-leekie was largely consumed at the Burns Centenary Festival at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, in 1859. [Illustration: LEEKS.] THE LEEK.--As in the case of the cucumber, this vegetable was bewailed by the Israelites in their journey through the desert. It is one of the alliaceous tribe, which consists of the onion, garlic, chive, shallot, and leek. These, as articles of food, are perhaps more widely diffused over the face of the earth than any other _genus_ of edible plants. It is the national badge of the Welsh, and tradition ascribes to St. David its introduction to that part of Britain. The origin of the wearing of the leek on St. David's day, among that people, is thus given in "BEETON'S DICTIONARY of UNIVERSAL INFORMATION:"--"It probably originated from the custom of _Cymhortha_, or the friendly aid, practised among farmers. In some districts of South Wales, all the neighbours of a small farmer were wont to appoint a day when they attended to plough his land, and the like; and, at such time, it was the custom for each to bring his portion of leeks with him for making the broth or soup." (_See_ ST. DAVID.) Others derive the origin of the custom from the battle of Cressy. The plant, when grown in Wales and Scotland, is sharper than it is in England, and its flavour is preferred by many to that of the onion in broth. It is very wholesome, and, to prevent its tainting the breath, should be well boiled. MACARONI SOUP. 135. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of macaroni, a piece of butter the size of a walnut, salt to taste, 2 quarts of clear stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Throw the macaroni and butter into boiling water, with a pinch of salt, and simmer for 1/2 an hour. When it is tender, drain and cut it into thin rings or lengths, and drop it into the boiling stock. Stew gently for 15 minutes, and serve grated Parmesan cheese with it. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: MACARONI.] MACARONI.--This is the favourite food of Italy, where, especially among the Neapolitans, it may be regarded as the staff of life. "The crowd of London," says Mr. Forsyth, "is a double line in quick motion; it is the crowd of business. The crowd of Naples consists in a general tide rolling up and down, and in the middle of this tide, a hundred eddies of men. You are stopped by a carpenter's bench, you are lost among shoemakers' stalls, and you dash among the _pots of a macaroni stall_." This article of food is nothing more than a thick paste, made of the best wheaten flour, with a small quantity of water. When it has been well worked, it is put into a hollow cylindrical vessel, pierced with holes of the size of tobacco-pipes at the bottom. Through these holes the mass is forced by a powerful screw bearing on a piece of wood made exactly to fit the inside of the cylinder. Whilst issuing from the holes, it is partially baked by a fire placed below the cylinder, and is, at the same time, drawn away and hung over rods placed about the room, in order to dry. In a few days it is fit for use. As it is both wholesome and nutritious, it ought to be much more used by all classes in England than it is. It generally accompanies Parmesan cheese to the tables of the rich, but is also used for thickening soups and making puddings. SOUP MAIGRE (i.e. without Meat). 136. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. butter, 6 onions sliced, 4 heads of celery, 2 lettuces, a small bunch of parsley, 2 handfuls of spinach, 3 pieces of bread-crust, 2 blades of mace, salt and pepper to taste, the yolks of 2 eggs, 3 teaspoonfuls of vinegar, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Melt the butter in a stewpan, and put in the onions to stew gently for 3 or 4 minutes; then add the celery, spinach, lettuces, and parsley, cut small. Stir the ingredients well for 10 minutes. Now put in the water, bread, seasoning, and mace. Boil gently for 1-1/2 hour, and, at the moment of serving, beat in the yolks of the eggs and the vinegar, but do not let it boil, or the eggs will curdle. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: LETTUCE.] THE LETTUCE.--This is one of the acetarious vegetables, which comprise a large class, chiefly used as pickles, salads, and other condiments. The lettuce has in all antiquity been distinguished as a kitchen-garden plant. It was, without preparation, eaten by the Hebrews with the Paschal lamb; the Greeks delighted in it, and the Romans, in the time of Domitian, had it prepared with eggs, and served in the first course at their tables, merely to excite their appetites. Its botanical name is _Lactuca_, so called from the milky juice it exudes when its stalks are cut. It possesses a narcotic virtue, noticed by ancient physicians; and even in our day a lettuce supper is deemed conducive to repose. Its proper character, however, is that of a cooling summer vegetable, not very nutritive, but serving as a corrective, or diluent of animal food. MILK SOUP (a Nice Dish for Children). 137. INGREDIENTS.--2 quarts of milk, 1 saltspoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of powdered cinnamon, 3 teaspoonfuls of pounded sugar, or more if liked, 4 thin slices of bread, the yolks of 6 eggs. _Mode_.--Boil the milk with the salt, cinnamon, and sugar; lay the bread in a deep dish, pour over it a little of the milk, and keep it hot over a stove, without burning. Beat up the yolks of the eggs, add them to the milk, and stir it over the fire till it thickens. Do not let it curdle. Pour it upon the bread, and serve. _Time_.--3/4 of an hour. _Average cost_, 8d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 10 children. ONION SOUP. 138. INGREDIENTS.--6 large onions, 2 oz. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, 1/4 pint of cream, 1 quart of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Chop the onions, put them in the butter, stir them occasionally, but do not let them brown. When tender, put the stock to them, and season; strain the soup, and add the boiling cream. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. CHEAP ONION SOUP. 139. INGREDIENTS.--8 middling-sized onions, 3 oz. of butter, a tablespoonful of rice-flour, salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoonful of powdered sugar, thickening of butter and flour, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut the onions small, put them in the stewpan with the butter, and fry them well; mix the rice-flour smoothly with the water, add the onions, seasoning, and sugar, and simmer till tender. Thicken with butter and flour, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_,4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: ONION.] THE ONION.--Like the cabbage, this plant was erected into an object of worship by the idolatrous Egyptians 2,000 years before the Christian era, and it still forms a favourite food in the country of these people, as well as in other parts of Africa. When it was first introduced to England, has not been ascertained; but it has long been in use, and esteemed as a favourite seasoning plant to various dishes. In warmer climates it is much milder in its flavour; and such as are grown in Spain and Portugal, are, comparatively speaking, very large, and are often eaten both in a boiled and roasted state. The Strasburg is the most esteemed; and, although all the species have highly nutritive properties, they impart such a disagreeable odour to the breath, that they are often rejected even where they are liked. Chewing a little raw parsley is said to remove this odour. PAN KAIL. 140. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of cabbage, or Savoy greens; 1/4 lb. of butter or dripping, salt and pepper to taste, oatmeal for thickening, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Chop the cabbage very fine, thicken the water with oatmeal, put in the cabbage and butter, or dripping; season and simmer for 1-1/2 hour. It can be made sooner by blanching and mashing the greens, adding any good liquor that a joint has been boiled in, and then further thicken with bread or pounded biscuit. _Time_--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year, but more suitable in winter. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. THE SAVOY.--This is a close-hearted wrinkle-leaved cabbage, sweet and tender, especially the middle leaves, and in season from November to spring. The yellow species bears hard weather without injury, whilst the _dwarf_ kind are improved and rendered more tender by frost. PARSNIP SOUP. 141. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of sliced parsnips, 2 oz. of butter, salt and cayenne to taste, 1 quart of stock No. 106. _Mode_.--Put the parsnips into the stewpan with the butter, which has been previously melted, and simmer them till quite tender. Then add nearly a pint of stock, and boil together for half an hour. Pass all through a fine strainer, and put to it the remainder of the stock. Season, boil, and serve immediately. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from October to April. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. THE PARSNIP.--This is a biennial plant, with a root like a carrot, which, in nutritive and saccharine matter, it nearly equals. It is a native of Britain, and, in its wild state, may be found, in many parts, growing by the road-sides. It is also to be found, generally distributed over Europe; and, in Catholic countries, is mostly used with salt fish, in Lent. In Scotland it forms an excellent dish, when beat up with butter and potatoes; it is, also, excellent when fried. In Ireland it is found to yield, in conjunction with the hop, a pleasant beverage; and it contains as much spirit as the carrot, and makes an excellent wine. Its proportion of nutritive matter is 99 parts in 1,000; 9 being mucilage and 90 sugar. PEA SOUP (GREEN). 142. INGREDIENTS.--3 pints of green peas, 1/4 lb. of butter, 2 or three thin slices of ham, 6 onions sliced, 4 shredded lettuces, the crumb of 2 French rolls, 2 handfuls of spinach, 1 lump of sugar, 2 quarts of common stock. _Mode_.--Put the butter, ham, 1 quart of the peas, onions, and lettuces, to a pint of stock, and simmer for an hour; then add the remainder of the stock, with the crumb of the French rolls, and boil for another hour. Now boil the spinach, and squeeze it very dry. Rub the soup through a sieve, and the spinach with it, to colour it. Have ready a pint of _young_ peas boiled; add them to the soup, put in the sugar, give one boil, and serve. If necessary, add salt. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from June to the end of August. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. _Note_.--It will be well to add, if the peas are not quite young, a little sugar. Where economy is essential, water may be used instead of stock for this soup, boiling in it likewise the pea-shells; but use a double quantity of vegetables. WINTER PEA SOUP (YELLOW). 143. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of split peas, 2 lbs. of shin of beef, trimmings of meat or poultry, a slice of bacon, 2 large carrots, 2 turnips, 5 large onions, 1 head of celery, seasoning to taste, 2 quarts of soft water, any bones left from roast meat, 2 quarts of common stock, or liquor in which a joint of meat has been boiled. _Mode_.--Put the peas to soak over-night in soft water, and float off such as rise to the top. Boil them in the water till tender enough to pulp; then add the ingredients mentioned above, and simmer for 2 hours, stirring it occasionally. Pass the whole through a sieve, skim well, season, and serve with toasted bread cut in dice. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year round, but more suitable for cold weather. _Sufficient_ for 12 persons. [Illustration: PEA.] THE PEA.--It is supposed that the common gray pea, found wild in Greece, and other parts of the Levant, is the original of the common garden pea, and of all the domestic varieties belonging to it. The gray, or field pea, called _bisallie_ by the French, is less subject to run into varieties than the garden kinds, and is considered by some, perhaps on that account, to be the wild plant, retaining still a large proportion of its original habit. From the tendency of all other varieties "to run away" and become different to what they originally were, it is very difficult to determine the races to which they belong. The pea was well known to the Romans, and, probably, was introduced to Britain at an early period; for we find peas mentioned by Lydgate, a poet of the 15th century, as being hawked in London. They seem, however, for a considerable time, to have fallen out of use; for, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, Fuller tells us they were brought from Holland, and were accounted "fit dainties for ladies, they came so far and cost so dear." There are some varieties of peas which have no lining in their pods, which are eaten cooked in the same way as kidney-beans. They are called _sugar_ peas, and the best variety is the large crooked sugar, which is also very good, used in the common way, as a culinary vegetable. There is also a white sort, which readily splits when subjected to the action of millstones set wide apart, so as not to grind them. These are used largely for soups, and especially for sea-stores. From the quantity of farinaceous and saccharine matter contained in the pea, it is highly nutritious as an article of food. PEA SOUP (inexpensive). 144. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of onions, 1/4 lb. of carrots, 2 oz. of celery, 3/4 lb. of split peas, a little mint, shred fine; 1 tablespoonful of coarse brown sugar, salt and pepper to taste, 4 quarts of water, or liquor in which a joint of meat has been boiled. _Mode_.--Fry the vegetables for 10 minutes in a little butter or dripping, previously cutting them up in small pieces; pour the water on them, and when boiling add the peas. Let them simmer for nearly 3 hours, or until the peas are thoroughly done. Add the sugar, seasoning, and mint; boil for 1/4 of an hour, and serve. _Time_.--3-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 12 persons. POTATO SOUP. I. 145. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of mealy potatoes, boiled or steamed very dry, pepper and salt to taste, 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--When the potatoes are boiled, mash them smoothly, that no lumps remain, and gradually put them to the boiling stock; pass it through a sieve, season, and simmer for 5 minutes. Skim well, and serve with fried bread. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. II. 146. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of shin of beef, 1 lb. of potatoes, 1 onion, 1/2 a pint of peas, 2 oz. of rice, 2 heads of celery, pepper and salt to taste, 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut the beef into thin slices, chop the potatoes and onion, and put them in a stewpan with the water, peas, and rice. Stew gently till the gravy is drawn from the meat; strain it off, take out the beef, and pulp the other ingredients through a coarse sieve. Put the pulp back in the soup, cut up the celery in it, and simmer till this is tender. Season, and serve with fried bread cut into it. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Sufficient_ for 12 persons. III. (_Very Economical_.) 147. INGREDIENTS.--4 middle-sized potatoes well pared, a thick slice of bread, 6 leeks peeled and cut into thin slices as far as the white extends upwards from the roots, a teacupful of rice, a teaspoonful of salt, and half that of pepper, and 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--The water must be completely boiling before anything is put into it; then add the whole of the ingredients at once, with the exception of the rice, the salt, and the pepper. Cover, and let these come to a brisk boil; put in the others, and let the whole boil slowly for an hour, or till all the ingredients are thoroughly done, and their several juices extracted and mixed. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 3d. per quart. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. [Illustration: POTATOES.] THE POTATO.--Humboldt doubted whether this root was a native of South America; but it has been found growing wild both in Chili and Buenos Ayres. It was first brought to Spain from the neighbourhood of Quito, in the early part of the sixteenth century, first to England from Virginia, in 1586, and first planted by Sir Walter Raleigh, on his estate of Youghal, near Cork, in Ireland. Thence it was brought and planted in Lancashire, in England, and was, at first, recommended to be eaten as a delicate dish, and not as common food. This was in 1587. _Nutritious Properties_.--Of a thousand parts of the potato, Sir H. Davy found about a fourth nutritive; say, 200 mucilage or starch, 20 sugar, and 30 gluten. PRINCE OF WALES'S SOUP. 148. INGREDIENTS.--12 turnips, 1 lump of sugar, 2 spoonfuls of strong veal stock, salt and white pepper to taste, 2 quarts of very bright stock, No. 105. _Mode_.--Peel the turnips, and with a cutter cut them in balls as round as possible, but very small. Put them in the stock, which must be very bright, and simmer till tender. Add the veal stock and seasoning. Have little pieces of bread cut round, about the size of a shilling; moisten them with stock; put them into a tureen and pour the soup over without shaking, for fear of crumbling the bread, which would spoil the appearance of the soup, and make it look thick. _Time_.--2 hours. _Seasonable_ in the winter. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. THE PRINCE Of WALES.--This soup was invented by a philanthropic friend of the Editress, to be distributed among the poor of a considerable village, when the Prince of Wales attained his majority, on the 9th November, 1859. Accompanying this fact, the following notice, which appears in "BEETON'S DICTIONARY OF UNIVERSAL INFORMATION" may appropriately be introduced, premising that British princes attain their majority in their 18th year, whilst mortals of ordinary rank do not arrive at that period till their 21st.--"ALBERT EDWARD, Prince of Wales, and heir to the British throne, merits a place in this work on account of the high responsibilities which he is, in all probability, destined to fulfil as sovereign of the British empire. On the 10th of November, 1858, he was gazetted as having been invested with the rank of a colonel in the army. Speaking of this circumstance, the _Times_ said,--'The significance of this event is, that it marks the period when the heir to the British throne is about to take rank among men, and to enter formally upon a career, which every loyal subject of the queen will pray may be a long and a happy one, for his own sake and for the sake of the vast empire which, in the course of nature, he will one day be called to govern. The best wish that we can offer for the young prince is, that in his own path he may ever keep before him the bright example of his royal mother, and show himself worthy of her name.' There are few in these realms who will not give a fervent response to these sentiments. B. November 9th, 1841." POTAGE PRINTANIER, OR SPRING SOUP. 149. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 a pint of green peas, if in season, a little chervil, 2 shredded lettuces, 2 onions, a very small bunch of parsley, 2 oz. of butter, the yolks of 3 eggs, 1 pint of water, seasoning to taste, 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Put in a very clean stewpan the chervil, lettuces, onions, parsley, and butter, to 1 pint of water, and let them simmer till tender. Season with salt and pepper; when done, strain off the vegetables, and put two-thirds of the liquor they were boiled in to the stock. Beat up the yolks of the eggs with the other third, give it a toss over the fire, and at the moment of serving, add this, with the vegetables which you strained off, to the soup. _Time_.--3/4 of an hour. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ from May to October. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. RICE SOUP. I. 150. INGREDIENTS.--4 oz. of Patna rice, salt, cayenne, and mace, 2 quarts of white stock. _Mode_.--Throw the rice into boiling water, and let it remain 5 minutes; then pour it into a sieve, and allow it to drain well. Now add it to the stock boiling, and allow it to stew till it is quite tender; season to taste. Serve quickly. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: EARS OF RICE.] RICE.--This is a plant of Indian origin, and has formed the principal food of the Indian and Chinese people from the most remote antiquity. Both Pliny and Dioscorides class it with the cereals, though Galen places it among the vegetables. Be this as it may, however, it was imported to Greece, from India, about 286 years before Christ, and by the ancients it was esteemed both nutritious and fattening. There are three kinds of rice,--the Hill rice, the Patna, and the Carolina, of the United States. Of these, only the two latter are imported to this country, and the Carolina is considered the best, as it is the dearest. The nourishing properties of rice are greatly inferior to those of wheat; but it is both a light and a wholesome food. In combination with other foods, its nutritive qualities are greatly increased; but from its having little stimulating power, it is apt, when taken in large quantities alone, to lie long on the stomach. II. 151. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of rice, the yolks of 4 eggs, 1/2 a pint of cream, rather more than 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Boil the rice in the stock, and rub half of it through a tammy; put the stock in the stewpan, add all the rice, and simmer gently for 5 minutes. Beat the yolks of the eggs, mix them with the cream (previously boiled), and strain through a hair sieve; take the soup off the fire, add the eggs and cream, stirring frequently. Heat it gradually, stirring all the time; but do not let it boil, or the eggs will curdle. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. SAGO SOUP. 152. INGREDIENTS.--5 oz. of sago, 2 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Wash the sago in boiling water, and add it, by degrees, to the boiling stock, and simmer till the sago is entirely dissolved, and forms a sort of jelly. _Time_.--Nearly an hour. _Average cost_, 10d. per quart. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Note_.--The yolks of 2 eggs, beaten up with a little cream, previously boiled, and added at the moment of serving, much improves this soup. [Illustration: SAGO PALM.] SAGO.--The farinaceous food of this name constitutes the pith of the SAGO tree (the _Sagus farinifera_ of Linnaeus), which grows spontaneously in the East Indies and in the archipelago of the Indian Ocean. There it forms the principal farinaceous diet of the inhabitants. In order to procure it, the tree is felled and sawn in pieces. The pith is then taken out, and put in receptacles of cold water, where it is stirred until the flour separates from the filaments, and sinks to the bottom, where it is suffered to remain until the water is poured off, when it is taken out and spread on wicker frames to dry. To give it the round granular form in which we find it come to this country, it is passed through a colander, then rubbed into little balls, and dried. The tree is not fit for felling until it has attained a growth of seven years, when a single trunk will yield 600 lbs. weight; and, as an acre of ground will grow 430 of these trees, a large return of flour is the result. The best quality has a slightly reddish hue, and easily dissolves to a jelly, in hot water. As a restorative diet, it is much used. SEMOLINA SOUP. 153. INGREDIENTS.--5 oz. of semolina, 2 quarts of boiling stock, No. 105, or 106. _Mode_.--Drop the semolina into the boiling stock, and keep stirring, to prevent its burning. Simmer gently for half an hour, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 an hour. _Average cost_, 10d. per quart, or 4d. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. SEMOLINA.--This is the heart of the _grano duro_ wheat of Italy, which is imported for the purpose of making the best vermicelli. It has a coarse appearance, and may be purchased at the Italian warehouses. It is also called _soojee;_ and _semoletta_ is another name for a finer sort. SOUP A LA SOLFERINO (Sardinian Recipe). 154. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1/2 pint of cream, 2 oz. of fresh butter, salt and pepper to taste, a little flour to thicken, 2 quarts of bouillon, No. 105. _Mode_.--Beat the eggs, put them into a stewpan, and add the cream, butter, and seasoning; stir in as much flour as will bring it to the consistency of dough; make it into balls, either round or egg-shaped, and fry them in butter; put them in the tureen, and pour the boiling bouillon over them. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This recipe was communicated to the Editress by an English gentleman, who was present at the battle of Solferino, on June 24, 1859, and who was requested by some of Victor Emmanuel's troops, on the day before the battle, to partake of a portion of their _potage_. He willingly enough consented, and found that these clever campaigners had made a most palatable dish from very easily-procured materials. In sending the recipe for insertion in this work, he has, however, Anglicised, and somewhat, he thinks, improved it. SPINACH SOUP (French Recipe). 155. INGREDIENTS.--As much spinach as, when boiled, will half fill a vegetable-dish, 2 quarts of very clear medium stock, No. 105. _Mode_.--Make the cooked spinach into balls the size of an egg, and slip them into the soup-tureen. This is a very elegant soup, the green of the spinach forming a pretty contrast to the brown gravy. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_,1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ from October to June. [Illustration: SPINACH.] SPINACH.--This plant was unknown by the ancients, although it was cultivated in the monastic gardens of the continent in the middle of the 14th century. Some say, that it was originally brought from Spain; but there is a wild species growing in England, and cultivated in Lincolnshire, in preference to the other. There are three varieties in use; the round-leaved, the triangular-leaved, and Flanders spinach, known by its large leaves. They all form a useful ingredient in soup; but the leaves are sometimes boiled alone, mashed, and eaten as greens. TAPIOCA SOUP. 156. INGREDIENTS.--5 oz. of tapioca, 2 quarts of stock No. 105 or 106. _Mode_.--Put the tapioca into cold stock, and bring it gradually to a boil. Simmer gently till tender, and serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. Average cost. 1s. or 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. TAPIOCA.--This excellent farinaceous food is the produce of the pith of the cassava-tree, and is made in the East Indies, and also in Brazil. It is, by washing, procured as a starch from the tree, then dried, either in the sun or on plates of hot iron, and afterwards broken into grains, in which form it is imported into this country. Its nutritive properties are large, and as a food for persons of delicate digestion, or for children, it is in great estimation. "No amylaceous substance," says Dr. Christison, "is so much relished by infants about the time of weaning; and in them it is less apt to become sour during digestion than any other farinaceous food, even arrowroot not excepted." TURNIP SOUP. 157. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of butter, 9 good-sized turnips, 4 onions, 2 quarts of stock No. 106, seasoning to taste. _Mode_.--Melt the butter in the stewpan, but do not let it boil; wash, drain, and slice the turnips and onions very thin; put them in the butter, with a teacupful of stock, and stew very gently for an hour. Then add the remainder of the stock, and simmer another hour. Rub it through a tammy, put it back into the stewpan, but do not let it boil. Serve very hot. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from October to March. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--By adding a little cream, this soup will be much improved. [Illustration: TURNIP.] THE TURNIP.--Although turnips grow wild in England, they are not the original of the cultivated vegetable made use of in this country. In ancient times they were grown for cattle by the Romans, and in Germany and the Low Countries they have from time immemorial been raised for the same purpose. In their cultivated state, they are generally supposed to have been introduced to England from Hanover, in the time of George I.; but this has been doubted, as George II. caused a description of the Norfolk system to be sent to his Hanoverian subjects, for their enlightenment in the art of turnip culture. As a culinary vegetable, it is excellent, whether eaten alone, mashed, or mixed with soups und stews. Its nutritious matter, however, is small, being only 42 parts in 1,000. VEGETABLE-MARROW SOUP. 158. INGREDIENTS.--4 young vegetable marrows, or more, if very small, 1/2 pint of cream, salt and white pepper to taste, 2 quarts of white stock, No. 107. _Mode_.--Pare and slice the marrows, and put them in the stock boiling. When done almost to a mash, press them through a sieve, and at the moment of serving, add the boiling cream and seasoning. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in summer. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: VEGETABLE MARROW.] THE VEGETABLE MARROW.--This is a variety of the gourd family, brought from Persia by an East-India ship, and only recently introduced to Britain. It is already cultivated to a considerable extent, and, by many, is highly esteemed when fried with butter. It is, however, dressed in different ways, either by stewing or boiling, and, besides, made into pies. VEGETABLE SOUP. I. 159. INGREDIENTS.--7 oz. of carrot, 10 oz. of parsnip, 10 oz. of potato, cut into thin slices; 1-1/4 oz. of butter, 5 teaspoonfuls of flour, a teaspoonful of made mustard, salt and pepper to taste, the yolks of 2 eggs, rather more than 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Boil the vegetables in the water 2-1/2 hours; stir them often, and if the water boils away too quickly, add more, as there should be 2 quarts of soup when done. Mix up in a basin the butter and flour, mustard, salt, and pepper, with a teacupful of cold water; stir in the soup, and boil 10 minutes. Have ready the yolks of the eggs in the tureen; pour on, stir well, and serve. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. II. 160. INGREDIENTS.--Equal quantities of onions, carrots, turnips; 1/4 lb. of butter, a crust of toasted bread, 1 head of celery, a faggot of herbs, salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoonful of powdered sugar, 2 quarts of common stock or boiling water. Allow 3/4 lb. of vegetables to 2 quarts of stock, No. 105. _Mode_.--Cut up the onions, carrots, and turnips; wash and drain them well, and put them in the stewpan with the butter and powdered sugar. Toss the whole over a sharp fire for 10 minutes, but do not let them brown, or you will spoil the flavour of the soup. When done, pour the stock or boiling water on them; add the bread, celery, herbs, and seasoning; stew for 3 hours; skim well and strain it off. When ready to serve, add a little sliced carrot, celery, and turnip, and flavour with a spoonful of Harvey's sauce, or a little ketchup. _Time_.--3-1/2 hours. _Average cost_,6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. III. (_Good and Cheap, made without Meat_.) 161. INGREDIENTS.--6 potatoes, 4 turnips, or 2 if very large; 2 carrots, 2 onions; if obtainable, 2 mushrooms; 1 head of celery, 1 large slice of bread, 1 small saltspoonful of salt, 1/4 saltspoonful of ground black pepper, 2 teaspoonfuls of Harvey's sauce, 6 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Peel the vegetables, and cut them up into small pieces; toast the bread rather brown, and put all into a stewpan with the water and seasoning. Simmer gently for 3 hours, or until all is reduced to a pulp, and pass it through a sieve in the same way as pea-soup, which it should resemble in consistence; but it should be a dark brown colour. Warm it up again when required; put in the Harvey's sauce, and, if necessary, add to the flavouring. _Time_.--3 hours, or rather more. _Average cost_,1d. per quart. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 16 persons. _Note_.--This recipe was forwarded to the Editress by a lady in the county of Durham, by whom it was strongly recommended. VERMICELLI SOUP. I. 162. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of bacon, stuck with cloves; 1/2 oz. of butter, worked up in flour; 1 small fowl, trussed for boiling; 2 oz. of vermicelli, 2 quarts of white stock, No. 107. _Mode_.--Put the stock, bacon, butter, and fowl into the stewpan, and stew for 3/4 of an hour. Take the vermicelli, add it to a little of the stock, and set it on the fire, till it is quite tender. When the soup is ready, take out the fowl and bacon, and put the bacon on a dish. Skim the soup as clean as possible; pour it, with the vermicelli, over the fowl. Cut some bread thin, put in the soup, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, exclusive of the fowl and bacon, 10d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. [Illustration: VERMICELLI.] VERMICELLI.--This is a preparation of Italian origin, and is made in the same way as macaroni, only the yolks of eggs, sugar, saffron, and cheese, are added to the paste. II. 163. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of vermicelli, 2 quarts of clear gravy stock, No. 169. _Mode_.--Put the vermicelli in the soup, boiling; simmer very gently for 1/2 an hour, and stir frequently. _Time_--1/2 an hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. WHITE SOUP. 164. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of sweet almonds, 1/4 lb. of cold veal or poultry, a thick slice of stale bread, a piece of fresh lemon-peel, 1 blade of mace, pounded, 3/4 pint of cream, the yolks of 2 hard-boiled eggs, 2 quarts of white stock, No. 107. _Mode_.--Reduce the almonds in a mortar to a paste, with a spoonful of water, and add to them the meat, which should be previously pounded with the bread. Beat all together, and add the lemon-peel, very finely chopped, and the mace. Pour the boiling stock on the whole, and simmer for an hour. Rub the eggs in the cream, put in the soup, bring it to a boil, and serve immediately. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--A more economical white soup may be made by using common veal stock, and thickening with rice, flour, and milk. Vermicelli should be served with it. _Average cost_, 5d. per quart. USEFUL SOUP FOR BENEVOLENT PURPOSES. 165. INGREDIENTS.--An ox-cheek, any pieces of trimmings of beef, which may be bought very cheaply (say 4 lbs.), a few bones, any pot-liquor the larder may furnish, 1/4 peck of onions, 6 leeks, a large bunch of herbs, 1/2 lb. of celery (the outside pieces, or green tops, do very well); 1/2 lb. of carrots, 1/2 lb. of turnips, 1/2 lb. of coarse brown sugar, 1/2 a pint of beer, 4 lbs. of common rice, or pearl barley; 1/2 lb. of salt, 1 oz. of black pepper, a few raspings, 10 gallons of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the meat in small pieces, break the bones, put them in a copper, with the 10 gallons of water, and stew for 1/2 an hour. Cut up the vegetables, put them in with the sugar and beer, and boil for 4 hours. Two hours before the soup is wanted, add the rice and raspings, and keep stirring till it is well mixed in the soup, which simmer gently. If the liquor reduces too much, fill up with water. _Time_.--6-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. per quart. _Note_.--The above recipe was used in the winter of 1858 by the Editress, who made, each week, in her copper, 8 or 9 gallons of this soup, for distribution amongst about a dozen families of the village near which she lives. The cost, as will be seen, was not great; but she has reason to believe that the soup was very much liked, and gave to the members of those families, a dish of warm, comforting food, in place of the cold meat and piece of bread which form, with too many cottagers, their usual meal, when, with a little more knowledge of the "cooking." art, they might have, for less expense, a warm dish, every day. MEAT, POULTRY, AND GAME SOUPS. BRILLA SOUP. 166. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of shin of beef, 3 carrots, 2 turnips, a large sprig of thyme, 2 onions, 1 head of celery, salt and pepper to taste, 4 quarts water. _Mode_.--Take the beef, cut off all the meat from the bone, in nice square pieces, and boil the bone for 4 hours. Strain the liquor, let it cool, and take off the fat; then put the pieces of meat in the cold liquor; cut small the carrots, turnips, and celery; chop the onions, add them with the thyme and seasoning, and simmer till the meat is tender. If not brown enough, colour it with browning. _Time_.--6 hours. _Average cost_, 5d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. THYME.--This sweet herb was known to the Romans, who made use of it in culinary preparations, as well as in aromatic liqueurs. There are two species of it growing wild in Britain, but the garden thyme is a native of the south of Europe, and is more delicate in its perfume than the others. Its young leaves give an agreeable flavour to soups and sauces; they are also used in stuffings. CALF'S-HEAD SOUP. 167. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 a calf's head, 1 onion stuck with cloves, a very small bunch of sweet herbs, 2 blades of mace, salt and white pepper to taste, 6 oz. of rice-flour, 3 tablespoonfuls of ketchup, 3 quarts of white stock, No. 107, or pot-liquor, or water. _Mode_.--Rub the head with salt, soak it for 6 hours, and clean it thoroughly; put it in the stewpan, and cover it with the stock, or pot-liquor, or water, adding the onion and sweet herbs. When well skimmed and boiled for 1-1/2 hour, take out the head, and skim and strain the soup. Mix the rice-flour with the ketchup, thicken the soup with it, and simmer for 5 minutes. Now cut up the head into pieces about two inches long, and simmer them in the soup till the meat and fat are quite tender. Season with white pepper and mace finely pounded, and serve very hot. When the calf's head is taken out of the soup, cover it up, or it will discolour. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_,1s. 9d. per quart, with stock No. 107. _Seasonable_ from May to October. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. _Note_.--Force-meat balls can be added, and the soup may be flavoured with a little lemon-juice, or a glass of sherry or Madeira. The bones from the head may be stewed down again, with a few fresh vegetables, and it will make a very good common stock. GIBLET SOUP. 168. INGREDIENTS.--3 sets of goose or duck giblets, 2 lbs. of shin of beef, a few bones, 1 ox-tail, 2 mutton-shanks, 2 large onions, 2 carrots, 1 large faggot of herbs, salt and pepper to taste, 1/4 pint of cream, 1 oz. of butter mixed with a dessert-spoonful of flour, 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Scald the giblets, cut the gizzards in 8 pieces, and put them in a stewpan with the beef, bones, ox-tail, mutton-shanks, onions, herbs, pepper, and salt; add the 3 quarts of water, and simmer till the giblets are tender, taking care to skim well. When the giblets are done, take them out, put them in your tureen, strain the soup through a sieve, add the cream and butter, mixed with a dessert-spoonful of flour, boil it up a few minutes, and pour it over the giblets. It can be flavoured with port wine and a little mushroom ketchup, instead of cream. Add salt to taste. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_,9d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. GRAVY SOUP. 169. INGREDIENTS.--6 lbs. of shin of beef, a knuckle of veal weighing 5 lbs., a few pieces or trimmings, 2 slices of nicely-flavoured lean, ham; 1/4 lb. of butter, 2 onions, 2 carrots, 1 turnip, nearly a head of celery, 1 blade of mace, 6 cloves, a hunch of savoury herb with endive, seasoning of salt and pepper to taste, 3 lumps of sugar, 5 quarts of boiling soft water. It can be flavoured with ketchup, Leamington sauce (_see_ SAUCES), Harvey's sauce, and a little soy. _Mode_.--Slightly brown the meat and ham in the butter, but do not let them burn. When this is done, pour to it the water, and as the scum rises, take it off; when no more appears, add all the other ingredients, and let the soup simmer slowly by the fire for 6 hours without stirring it any more from the bottom; take it off, and let it settle; skim off all the fat you can, and pass it through a tammy. When perfectly cold, you can remove all the fat, and leave the sediment untouched, which serves very nicely for thick gravies, hashes, &c. _Time_.--7 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 14 persons. ENDIVE.--This plant belongs to the acetarious tribe of vegetables, and is supposed to have originally come from China and Japan. It was known to the ancients; but was not introduced to England till about the middle of the 16th century. It is consumed in large quantities by the French, and in London,--in the neighbourhood of which it is grown in abundance;--it is greatly used as a winter salad, as well as in soups and stews. HARE SOUP. I. 170. INGREDIENTS.--A hare fresh-killed, 1 lb. of lean gravy-beef, a slice of ham, 1 carrot, 2 onions, a faggot of savoury herbs, 1/4 oz. of whole black pepper, a little browned flour, 1/4 pint of port wine, the crumb of two French rolls, salt and cayenne to taste, 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Skin and paunch the hare, saving the liver and as much blood as possible. Cut it in pieces, and put it in a stewpan with all the ingredients, and simmer gently for 8 hours. This soup should be made the day before it is wanted. Strain through a sieve, put the best parts of the hare in the soup, and serve. OR, II. Proceed as above; but, instead of putting the joints of the hare in the soup, pick the meat from the bones, pound it in a mortar, and add it, with the crumb of two French rolls, to the soup. Rub all through a sieve; heat slowly, but do not let it boil. Send it to table immediately. _Time_.-8 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to February. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. [Illustration: HARE.] THE COMMON HARE.--This little animal is found throughout Europe, and, indeed, in most of the northern parts of the world; and as it is destitute of natural weapons of defence, Providence has endowed it with an extraordinary amount of the passion of fear. As if to awaken the vigilance of this passion, too, He has furnished it with long and tubular ears, in order that it may catch the remotest sounds; and with full, prominent eyes, which enable it to see, at one and the same time, both before and behind it. The hare feeds in the evenings, and sleeps, in its form, during the day; and, as it generally lies on the ground, its feet, both below and above, are protected with a thick covering of hair. Its flesh, though esteemed by the Romans, was forbidden by the Druids and by the earlier Britons. It is now, though very dark and dry, and devoid of fat, much esteemed by Europeans, on account of the peculiarity of its flavour. In purchasing this animal, it ought to be remembered that both hares and rabbits, when old, have their claws rugged and blunt, their haunches thick, and their ears dry and tough. The ears of a young hare easily tear, and it has a narrow cleft in the lip; whilst its claws are both smooth and sharp. HESSIAN SOUP. 171. INGREDIENTS.--Half an ox's head, 1 pint of split peas, 3 carrots, 6 turnips, 6 potatoes, 6 onions, 1 head of celery, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, pepper and salt to taste, 2 blades of mace, a little allspice, 4 cloves, the crumb of a French roll, 6 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Clean the head, rub it with salt and water, and soak it for 5 hours in warm water. Simmer it in the water till tender, put it into a pan and let it cool; skim off all the fat; take out the head, and add the vegetables cut up small, and the peas which have been previously soaked; simmer them without the meat, till they are done enough to pulp through a sieve. Add the seasoning, with pieces of the meat cut up; give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 16 persons. _Note_.--An excellent hash or _ragoût_ can be made by cutting up the nicest parts of the head, thickening and seasoning more highly a little of the soup, and adding a glass of port wine and 2 tablespoonfuls of ketchup. MOCK TURTLE. I. 172. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 a calf's head, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1/4 lb. of lean ham, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced parsley, a little minced lemon thyme, sweet marjoram, basil, 2 onions, a few chopped mushrooms (when obtainable), 2 shallots, 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 1/4 bottle of Madeira or sherry, force-meat balls, cayenne, salt and mace to taste, the juice of 1 lemon and 1 Seville orange, 1 dessert-spoonful of pounded sugar, 3 quarts of best stock, No. 104. _Mode_.--Scald the head with the skin on, remove the brain, tie the head up in a cloth, and let it boil for 1 hour. Then take the meat from the bones, cut it into small square pieces, and throw them into cold water. Now take the meat, put it into a stewpan, and cover with stock; let it boil gently for an hour, or rather more, if not quite tender, and set it on one side. Melt the butter in another stewpan, and add the ham, cut small, with the herbs, parsley, onions, shallots, mushrooms, and nearly a pint of stock; let these simmer slowly for 2 hours, and then dredge in as much flour as will dry up the butter. Fill up with the remainder of the stock, add the wine, let it stew gently for 10 minutes, rub it through a tammy, and put it to the calf's head; season with cayenne, and, if required, a little salt; add the juice of the orange and lemon; and when liked, 1/4 teaspoonful of pounded mace, and the sugar. Put in the force-meat balls, simmer 5 minutes, and serve very hot. _Time_.--4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. per quart, or 2s. 6d. without wine or force-meat balls. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. _Note_.--The bones of the head should be well stewed in the liquor it was first boiled in, and will make good white stock, flavoured with vegetables, etc. II. (_More Economical_.) 173. INGREDIENTS.--A knuckle of veal weighing 5 or 6 lbs., 2 cow-heels, 2 large onions stuck with cloves, 1 bunch of sweet herbs, 3 blades of mace, salt to taste, 12 peppercorns, 1 glass of sherry, 24 force-meat balls, a little lemon-juice, 4 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients, except the force-meat balls and lemon-juice, in an earthen jar, and stew for 6 hours. Do not open it till cold. When wanted for use, skim off all the fat, and strain carefully; place it on the fire, cut up the meat into inch-and-a-half squares, put it, with the force-meat balls and lemon-juice, into the soup, and serve. It can be flavoured with a tablespoonful of anchovy, or Harvey's sauce. _Time_.--6 hours. _Average cost_,1s. 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. THE CALF--The flesh of this animal is called veal, and when young, that is, under two months old, yields a large quantity of soluble extract, and is, therefore, much employed for soups and broths. The Essex farmers have obtained a celebrity for fattening calves better than any others in England, where they are plentifully supplied with milk, a thing impossible to be done in the immediate neighbourhood of London. MARJORAM.--There are several species of this plant; but that which is preferred for cookery is a native of Portugal, and is called sweet or knotted marjoram. When its leaves are dried, they have an agreeable aromatic flavour; and hence are used for soups, stuffings, &c. BASIL.--This is a native of the East Indies, and is highly aromatic, having a perfume greatly resembling that of cloves. It is not much employed in English cookery, but is a favourite with French cooks, by whom its leaves are used in soups and salads. MULLAGATAWNY SOUP. 174. INGREDIENTS.--2 tablespoonfuls of curry powder, 6 onions, 1 clove of garlic, 1 oz. of pounded almonds, a little lemon-pickle, or mango-juice, to taste; 1 fowl or rabbit, 4 slices of lean bacon; 2 quarts of medium stock, or, if wanted very good, best stock. _Mode_.-=Slice and fry the onions of a nice colour; line the stewpan with the bacon; cut up the rabbit or fowl into small joints, and slightly brown them; put in the fried onions, the garlic, and stock, and simmer gently till the meat is tender; skim very carefully, and when the meat is done, rub the curry powder to a smooth batter; add it to the soup with the almonds, which must be first pounded with a little of the stock. Put in seasoning and lemon-pickle or mango-juice to taste, and serve boiled rice with it. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. per quart, with stock No. 105. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This soup can also be made with breast of veal, or calf's head. Vegetable Mullagatawny is made with veal stock, by boiling and pulping chopped vegetable marrow, cucumbers, onions, and tomatoes, and seasoning with curry powder and cayenne. Nice pieces of meat, good curry powder, and strong stock, are necessary to make this soup good. [Illustration: CORIANDER.] CORIANDER.--This plant, which largely enters into the composition of curry powder with turmeric, originally comes from the East; but it has long been cultivated in England, especially in Essex, where it is reared for the use of confectioners and druggists. In private gardens, it is cultivated for the sake of its tender leaves, which are highly aromatic, and are employed in soups and salads. Its seeds are used in large quantities for the purposes of distillation. A GOOD MUTTON SOUP. 175. INGREDIENTS.--A neck of mutton about 5 or 6 lbs., 3 carrots, 3 turnips, 2 onions, a large bunch of sweet herbs, including parsley; salt and pepper to taste; a little sherry, if liked; 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Lay the ingredients in a covered pan before the fire, and let them remain there the whole day, stirring occasionally. The next day put the whole into a stewpan, and place it on a brisk fire. When it commences to boil, take the pan off the fire, and put it on one side to simmer until the meat is done. When ready for use, take out the meat, dish it up with carrots and turnips, and send it to table; strain the soup, let it cool, skim off all the fat, season and thicken it with a tablespoonful, or rather more, of arrowroot; flavour with a little sherry, simmer for 5 minutes, and serve. _Time_.--15 hours. _Average cost_, including the meat, 1s. 3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. THE SHEEP.--This animal formed the principal riches of the patriarchs, in the days of old, and, no doubt, multiplied, until its species were spread over the greater part of Western Asia; but at what period it was introduced to Britain is not known. It is now found in almost every part of the globe, although, as a domestic animal, it depends almost entirely upon man for its support. Its value, however, amply repays him for whatever care and kindness he may bestow upon it; for, like the ox, there is scarcely a part of it that he cannot convert to some useful purpose. The fleece, which serves it for a covering, is appropriated by man, to serve the same end to himself, whilst its skin is also applied to various purposes in civilized life. Its entrails are used as strings for musical instruments, and its bones are calcined, and employed as tests in the trade of the refiner. Its milk, being thicker than that of the cow, yields a greater quantity of butter and cheese, and its flesh is among the most wholesome and nutritive that can be eaten. Thomson has beautifully described the appearance of the sheep, when bound to undergo the operation of being shorn of its wool. "Behold, where bound, and of its robe bereft By needy man, that all-depending lord, How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! What softness in his melancholy face, What dumb complaining innocence appears!" OX-CHEEK SOUP. 176. INGREDIENTS.--An ox-cheek, 2 oz. of butter, 3 or 4 slices of lean ham or bacon, 1 parsnip, 3 carrots, 2 onions, 3 heads of celery, 3 blades of mace, 4 cloves, a faggot of savoury herbs, 1 bay-leaf, a teaspoonful of salt, half that of pepper, 1 head of celery, browning, the crust of a French roll, 6 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Lay the ham in the bottom of the stewpan, with the butter; break the bones of the cheek, wash it clean, and put it on the ham. Cut the vegetables small, add them to the other ingredients, and set the whole over a slow fire for 1/4 of an hour. Now put in the water, and simmer gently till it is reduced to 4 quarts; take out the fleshy part of the cheek, and strain the soup into a clean stewpan; thicken with flour, put in a head of sliced celery, and simmer till the celery is tender. If not a good colour, use a little browning. Cut the meat into small square pieces, pour the soup over, and serve with the crust of a French roll in the tureen. A glass of sherry much improves this soup. _Time_.--3 to 4 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 12 persons. THE OX.--Of the quadrupedal animals, the flesh of those that feed upon herbs is the most wholesome and nutritious for human food. In the early ages, the ox was used as a religious sacrifice, and, in the eyes of the Egyptians was deemed so sacred as to be worthy of exaltation to represent Taurus, one of the twelve signs of the zodiac. To this day, the Hindoos venerate the cow, whose flesh is forbidden to be eaten, and whose fat, supposed to have been employed to grease the cartridges of the Indian army, was one of the proximate causes of the great Sepoy rebellion of 1857. There are no animals of greater use to man than the tribe to which the ox belongs. There is hardly a part of them that does not enter into some of the arts and purposes of civilized life. Of their horns are made combs, knife-handles, boxes, spoons, and drinking-cups. They are also made into transparent plates for lanterns; an invention ascribed, in England, to King Alfred. Glue is made from their gristles, cartilages, and portions of their hides. Their bones often form a substitute for ivory; their skins, when calves, are manufactured into vellum; their blood is the basis of Prussian blue; their sinews furnish fine and strong threads, used by saddlers; their hair enters into various manufactures; their tallow is made into candles; their flesh is eaten, and the utility of the milk and cream of the cow is well known. OX-TAIL SOUP. 177. INGREDIENTS.--2 ox-tails, 2 slices of ham, 1 oz. of butter, 2 carrots, 2 turnips, 3 onions, 1 leek, 1 head of celery, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, 1 bay-leaf, 12 whole peppercorns, 4 cloves, a tablespoonful of salt, 2 tablespoonfuls of ketchup, 1/2 glass of port wine, 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the tails, separating them at the joints; wash them, and put them in a stewpan, with the butter. Cut the vegetables in slices, and add them, with the peppercorns and herbs. Put in 1/2 pint of water, and stir it over a sharp fire till the juices are drawn. Fill up the stewpan with the water, and, when boiling, add the salt. Skim well, and simmer very gently for 4 hours, or until the tails are tender. Take them out, skim and strain the soup, thicken with flour, and flavour with the ketchup and port wine. Put back the tails, simmer for 5 minutes, and serve. _Time_.--4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. PARTRIDGE SOUP. 178. INGREDIENTS.--2 partridges, 3 slices of lean ham, 2 shred onions, 1 head of celery, 1 large carrot, and 1 turnip cut into any fanciful shapes, 1 small lump of sugar, 2 oz. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, 2 quarts of stock No. 105, or common, No. 106. _Mode_.--Cut the partridges into pieces, and braise them in the butter and ham until quite tender; then take out the legs, wings, and breast, and set them by. Keep the backs and other trimmings in the braise, and add the onions and celery; any remains of cold game can be put in, and 3 pints of stock. Simmer slowly for 1 hour, strain it, and skim the fat off as clean as possible; put in the pieces that were taken out, give it one boil, and skim again to have it quite clear, and add the sugar and seasoning. Now simmer the cut carrot and turnip in 1 pint of stock; when quite tender, put them to the partridges, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. or 1s. 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to February. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--The meat of the partridges may be pounded with the crumb of a French roll, and worked with the soup through a sieve. Serve with stewed celery cut in slices, and put in the tureen. THE PARTRIDGE.--This is a timorous bird, being easily taken. It became known to the Greeks and Romans, whose tables it helped to furnish with food. Formerly, the Red was scarce in Italy, but its place was supplied by the White, which, at considerable expense, was frequently procured from the Alps. The Athenians trained this bird for fighting, and Severus used to lighten the cares of royalty by witnessing the spirit of its combats. The Greeks esteemed its leg most highly, and rejected the other portions as unfashionable to be eaten. The Romans, however, ventured a little further, and ate the breast, whilst we consider the bird as wholly palatable. It is an inhabitant of all the temperate countries of Europe, but, on account of the geniality of the climate, it abounds most in the Ukraine. PHEASANT SOUP. 179. INGREDIENTS.--2 pheasants, 1/4 lb. of butter, 2 slices of ham, 2 large onions sliced, 1/2 head of celery, the crumb of two French rolls, the yolks of 2 eggs boiled hard, salt and cayenne to taste, a little pounded mace, if liked; 3 quarts of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Cut up the pheasants, flour and braise them in the butter and ham till they are of a nice brown, but not burnt. Put them in a stewpan, with the onions, celery, and seasoning, and simmer for 2 hours. Strain the soup; pound the breasts with the crumb of the roll previously soaked, and the yolks of the eggs; put it to the soup, give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. 10d. per quart, or, if made with fragments of gold game, 1s. _Seasonable_ from October to February. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. _Note_.--Fragments, pieces and bones of cold game, may be used to great advantage in this soup, and then 1 pheasant will suffice. PORTABLE SOUP. 180. INGREDIENTS.--2 knuckles of veal, 3 shins of beef, 1 large faggot of herbs, 2 bay-leaves, 2 heads of celery, 3 onions, 3 carrots, 2 blades of mace, 6 cloves, a teaspoonful of salt, sufficient water to cover all the ingredients. _Mode_.--Take the marrow from the bones; put all the ingredients in a stock-pot, and simmer slowly for 12 hours, or more, if the meat be not done to rags; strain it off, and put it in a very cool place; take off all the fat, reduce the liquor in a shallow pan, by setting it over a sharp fire, but be particular that it does not burn; boil it fast and uncovered for 8 hours, and keep it stirred. Put it into a deep dish, and set it by for a day. Have ready a stewpan of boiling water, place the dish in it, and keep it boiling; stir occasionally, and when the soup is thick and ropy, it is done. Form it into little cakes by pouring a small quantity on to the bottom of cups or basins; when cold, turn them out on a flannel to dry. Keep them from the air in tin canisters. _Average cost_ of this quantity, 16s. _Note_.--Soup can be made in 5 minutes with this, by dissolving a small piece, about the size of a walnut, in a pint of warm water, and simmering for 2 minutes. Vermicelli, macaroni, or other Italian pastes, may be added. THE LAUREL or BAY.--The leaves of this tree frequently enter into the recipes of cookery; but they ought not to be used without the greatest caution, and not at all unless the cook is perfectly aware of their effects. It ought to be known, that there are two kinds of bay-trees,--the Classic laurel, whose leaves are comparatively harmless, and the Cherry-laurel, which is the one whose leaves are employed in cookery. They have a kernel-like flavour, and are used in blanc-mange, puddings, custards &c.; but when acted upon by water, they develop prussic acid, and, therefore, but a small number of the leaves should be used at a time. RABBIT SOUP. 181. INGREDIENTS.--2 large rabbits, or 3 small ones; a faggot of savoury herbs, 1/2 head of celery, 2 carrots, 1 onion, 1 blade of mace, salt and white pepper to taste, a little pounded mace, 1/2 pint of cream, the yolks of 2 eggs boiled hard, the crumb of a French roll, nearly 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Make the soup with the legs and shoulders of the rabbit, and keep the nice pieces for a dish or _entrée_. Put them into warm water, and draw the blood; when quite clean, put them in a stewpan, with a faggot of herbs, and a teacupful, or rather more, of veal stock or water. Simmer slowly till done through, and add the 3 quarts of water, and boil for an hour. Take out the rabbet, pick the meat from the bones, covering it up to keep it white; put the bones back in the liquor, add the vegetables, and simmer for 2 hours; skim and strain, and let it cool. Now pound the meat in a mortar, with the yolks of the eggs, and the crumb of the roll previously soaked; rub it through a tammy, and gradually add it to the strained liquor, and simmer for 15 minutes. Mix arrowroot or rice-flour with the cream (say 2 dessert-spoonfuls), and stir in the soup; bring it to a boil, and serve. This soup must be very white, and instead of thickening it with arrowroot or rice-flour, vermicelli or pearl barley can be boiled in a little stock, and put in 5 minutes before serving. _Time_.--Nearly 4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. REGENCY SOUP. 182. Ingredients.--Any bones and remains of any cold game, such as of pheasants, partridges, &c.; 2 carrots, 2 small onions, 1 head of celery, 1 turnip, 1/4 lb. of pearl barley, the yolks of 3 eggs boiled hard, 1/4 pint of cream, salt to taste, 2 quarts of stock No. 105, or common stock, No. 106. _Mode_.--Place the bones or remains of game in the stewpan, with the vegetables sliced; pour over the stock, and simmer for 2 hours; skim off all the fat, and strain it. Wash the barley, and boil it in 2 or 3 waters before putting it to the soup; finish simmering in the soup, and when the barley is done, take out half, and pound the other half with the yolks of the eggs. When you have finished pounding, rub it through a clean tammy, add the cream, and salt if necessary; give one boil, and serve very hot, putting in the barley that was taken out first. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. per quart, if made with medium stock, or 6d. per quart, with common stock. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. SOUP A LA REINE. I. 183. INGREDIENTS.--1 large fowl, 1 oz. of sweet almonds, the crumb of 1 1/2 French roll, 1/2 pint of cream, salt to taste, 1 small lump of sugar, 2 quarts of good white veal stock, No. 107. _Mode_.--Boil the fowl gently in the stock till quite tender, which will be in about an hour, or rather more; take out the fowl, pull the meat from the bones, and put it into a mortar with the almonds, and pound very fine. When beaten enough, put the meat back in the stock, with the crumb of the rolls, and let it simmer for an hour; rub it through a tammy, add the sugar, 1/2 pint of cream that has boiled, and, if you prefer, cut the crust of the roll into small round pieces, and pour the soup over it, when you serve. _Time_.--2 hours, or rather more. _Average cost_, 2s. 7d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--All white soups should be warmed in a vessel placed in another of boiling water. (_See_ BAIN MARIE, No. 87.) II. (Economical.) 184. INGREDIENTS.--Any remains of roast chickens, 1/2 teacupful of rice, salt and pepper to taste, 1 quart of stock No. 106. _Mode_.--Take all the white meat and pound it with the rice, which has been slightly cooked, but not much. When it is all well pounded, dilute with the stock, and pass through a sieve. This soup should neither be too clear nor too thick. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Note_.--If stock is not at hand, put the chicken-bones in water, with an onion, carrot, a few sweet herbs, a blade of mace, pepper and salt, and stew for 3 hours. STEW SOUP OF SALT MEAT. 185. INGREDIENTS.--Any pieces of salt beef or pork, say 2 lbs.; 4 carrots, 4 parsnips, 4 turnips, 4 potatoes, 1 cabbage, 2 oz. of oatmeal or ground rice, seasoning of salt and pepper, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the meat small, add the water, and let it simmer for 23/4 hours. Now add the vegetables, cut in thin small slices; season, and boil for 1 hour. Thicken with the oatmeal, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 3d. per quart without the meat. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Note_.--If rice is used instead of oatmeal, put it in with the vegetables. STEW SOUP. I. 186. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of beef, 5 onions, 5 turnips, 3/4 lb. of _rice_, a large bunch of parsley, a few sweet herbs, pepper and salt, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut the beef up in small pieces, add the other ingredients, and boil gently for 21/2 hours. Oatmeal or potatoes would be a great improvement. _Time_.-21/2 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. II. 187. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of beef, mutton, or pork; 1/2 pint of split peas, 4 turnips, 8 potatoes, 2 onions, 2 oz. of oatmeal or 3 oz. of rice, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut the meat in small pieces, as also the vegetables, and add them, with the peas, to the water. Boil gently for 3 hours; thicken with the oatmeal, boil for another 1/4 hour, stirring all the time, and season with pepper and salt. _Time_.--3-1/4 hours. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This soup may be made of the liquor in which tripe has been boiled, by adding vegetables, seasoning, rice, &c. TURKEY SOUP (a Seasonable Dish at Christmas). 188. INGREDIENTS.--2 quarts of medium stock, No. 105, the remains of a cold roast turkey, 2 oz. of rice-flour or arrowroot, salt and pepper to taste, 1 tablespoonful of Harvey's sauce or mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut up the turkey in small pieces, and put it in the stock; let it simmer slowly until the bones are quite clean. Take the bones out, and work the soup through a sieve; when cool, skim well. Mix the rice-flour or arrowroot to a batter with a little of the soup; add it with the seasoning and sauce, or ketchup. Give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. per quart. _Seasonable_ at Christmas. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--Instead of thickening this soup, vermicelli or macaroni may be served in it. THE TURKEY.--The common turkey is a native of North America, and was thence introduced to England, in the reign of Henry VIII. According to Tusser's "Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry," about the year 1585 it begun to form a dish at our rural Christmas feasts. "Beef, mutton, and pork, shred pies of the best, Pig, veal, goose, and capon, and turkey well dress'd, Cheese, apples, and nuts, jolly carols to hear, As then in the country is counted good cheer." It is one of the most difficult birds to rear, of any that we have; yet, in its wild state, is found in great abundance in the forests of Canada, where, it might have been imagined that the severity of the climate would be unfavourable to its ever becoming plentiful. They are very fond of the seeds of nettles, and the seeds of the foxglove poison them. TURTLE SOUP (founded on M. Ude's Recipe). 189. INGREDIENTS.--A turtle, 6 slices of ham, 2 knuckles of veal, 1 large bunch of sweet herbs, 3 bay-leaves, parsley, green onions, 1 onion, 6 cloves, 4 blades of mace, 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 1 bottle of Madeira, 1 lump of sugar. For the _Quenelles à Tortue_, 1 lb. of veal, 1 lb. of bread crumbs, milk, 7 eggs, cayenne, salt, spices, chopped parsley, the juice of 2 lemons. _Mode_.--To make this soup with less difficulty, cut off the head of the turtle the preceding day. In the morning open the turtle by leaning heavily with a knife on the shell of the animal's back, whilst you cut this off all round. Turn it upright on its end, that all the water, &c. may run out, when the flesh should be cut off along the spine, with the knife sloping towards the bones, for fear of touching the gall, which sometimes might escape the eye. When all the flesh about the members is obtained, wash these clean, and let them drain. Have ready, on the fire, a large vessel full of boiling water, into which put the shells; and when you perceive that they come easily off, take them out of the water, and prick them all, with those of the back, belly, fins, head, &c. Boil the back and belly till the bones can be taken off, without, however, allowing the softer parts to be sufficiently done, as they will be boiled again in the soup. When these latter come off easily, lay them on earthen dishes singly, for fear they should stick together, and put them to cool. Keep the liquor in which you have blanched the softer parts, and let the bones stew thoroughly in it, as this liquor must be used to moisten all the sauces. All the flesh of the interior parts, the four legs and head, must be drawn down in the following manner:--Lay the slices of ham on the bottom of a very large stewpan, over them the knuckles of veal, according to the size of the turtle; then the inside flesh of the turtle, and over the whole the members. Now moisten with the water in which you are boiling the shell, and draw it down thoroughly. It may now be ascertained if it be thoroughly done by thrusting a knife into the fleshy part of the meat. If no blood appears, it is time to moisten it again with the liquor in which the bones, &c. have been boiling. Put in a large bunch of all such sweet herbs as are used in the cooking of a turtle,--sweet basil, sweet marjoram, lemon thyme, winter savory, 2 or 3 bay-leaves, common thyme, a handful of parsley and green onions, and a large onion stuck with 6 cloves. Let the whole be thoroughly done. With respect to the members, probe them, to see whether they are done, and if so, drain and send them to the larder, as they are to make their appearance only when the soup is absolutely completed. When the flesh is also completely done, strain it through a silk sieve, and make a very thin white _roux;_ for turtle soup must not be much thickened. When the flour is sufficiently done on a slow fire, and has a good colour, moisten it with the liquor, keeping it over the fire till it boils. Ascertain that the sauce is neither too thick nor too thin; then draw the stewpan on the side of the stove, to skim off the white scum, and all the fat and oil that rise to the surface of the sauce. By this time all the softer parts will be sufficiently cold; when they must be cut to about the size of one or two inches square, and thrown into the soup, which must now be left to simmer gently. When done, skim off all the fat and froth. Take all the leaves of the herbs from the stock,--sweet basil, sweet marjoram, lemon thyme, winter savory, 2 or 3 bay-leaves, common thyme, a handful of parsley and green onions, and a large onion cut in four pieces, with a few blades of mace. Put these in a stewpan, with about 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, and let it simmer on a slow fire till quite melted, when pour in 1 bottle of good Madeira, adding a small bit of sugar, and let it boil gently for 1 hour. When done, rub it through a tammy, and add it to the soup. Let this boil, till no white scum rises; then take with a skimmer all the bits of turtle out of the sauce, and put them in a clean stewpan: when you have all out, pour the soup over the bits of turtle, through a tammy, and proceed as follows:-- QUENELLES À TORTUE.--Make some _quenelles à tortue_, which being substitutes for eggs, do not require to be very delicate. Take out the fleshy part of a leg of veal, about 1 lb., scrape off all the meat, without leaving any sinews or fat, and soak in milk about the same quantity of crumbs of bread. When the bread is well soaked, squeeze it, and put it into a mortar, with the veal, a small quantity of calf's udder, a little butter, the yolks of 4 eggs, boiled hard, a little cayenne pepper, salt, and spices, and pound the whole very fine; then thicken the mixture with 2 whole eggs, and the yolk of another. Next try this _farce_ or stuffing in boiling-hot water, to ascertain its consistency: if it is too thin, add the yolk of an egg. When the _farce_ is perfected, take half of it, and put into it some chopped parsley. Let the whole cool, in order to roll it of the size of the yolk of an egg; poach it in salt and boiling water, and when very hard, drain on a sieve, and put it into the turtle. Before you send up, squeeze the juice of 2 or 3 lemons, with a little cayenne pepper, and pour that into the soup. THE FINS may be served as a _plat d'entrée_ with a little turtle sauce; if not, on the following day you may warm the turtle _au bain marie_, and serve the members entire, with a _matelote_ sauce, garnished with mushrooms, cocks' combs, _quenelles_, &c. When either lemon-juice or cayenne pepper has been introduced, no boiling must take place. _Note_.--It is necessary to observe, that the turtle prepared a day before it is used, is generally preferable, the flavour being more uniform. Be particular, when you dress a very large turtle, to preserve the green fat (be cautious not to study a very brown colour,--the natural green of the fish is preferred by every epicure and true connoisseur) in a separate stewpan, and likewise when the turtle is entirely done, to have as many tureens as you mean to serve each time. You cannot put the whole in a large vessel, for many reasons: first, it will be long in cooling; secondly, when you take some out, it will break all the rest into rags. If you warm in a _bain marie_, the turtle will always retain the same taste; but if you boil it often, it becomes strong, and loses the delicacy of its flavour. THE COST OF TURTLE SOUP.--This is the most expensive soup brought to table. It is sold by the quart,--one guinea being the standard price for that quantity. The price of live turtle ranges from 8d. to 2s. per lb., according to supply and demand. When live turtle is dear, many cooks use the tinned turtle, which is killed when caught, and preserved by being put in hermetically-sealed canisters, and so sent over to England. The cost of a tin, containing 2 quarts, or 4 lbs., is about £2, and for a small one, containing the green fat, 7s. 6d. From these about 6 quarts of good soup may be made. [Illustration: THE TURTLE.] THE GREEN TURTLE.--This reptile is found in large numbers on the coasts of all the islands and continents within the tropics, in both the old and new worlds. Their length is often five feet and upwards, and they range in weight from 50 to 500 or 600 lbs. As turtles find a constant supply of food on the coasts which they frequent, they are not of a quarrelsome disposition, as the submarine meadows in which they pasture, yield plenty for them all. Like other species of amphibia, too, they have the power of living many months without food; so that they live harmlessly and peaceably together, notwithstanding that they seem to have no common bond of association, but merely assemble in the same places as if entirely by accident. England is mostly supplied with them from the West Indies, whence they are brought alive and in tolerable health. The green turtle is highly prized on account of the delicious quality of its flesh, the fat of the upper and lower shields of the animal being esteemed the richest and most delicate parts. The soup, however, is apt to disagree with weak stomachs. As an article of luxury, the turtle has only come into fashion within the last 100 years, and some hundreds of tureens of turtle soup are served annually at the lord mayor's dinner in Guildhall. A GOOD FAMILY SOUP. 190. INGREDIENTS.--Remains of a cold tongue, 2 lbs. of shin of beef, any cold pieces of meat or beef-bones, 2 turnips, 2 carrots, 2 onions, 1 parsnip, 1 head of celery, 4 quarts of water, 1/2 teacupful of rice; salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients in a stewpan, and simmer gently for 4 hours, or until all the goodness is drawn from the meat. Strain off the soup, and let it stand to get cold. The kernels and soft parts of the tongue must be saved. When the soup is wanted for use, skim off all the fat, put in the kernels and soft parts of the tongue, slice in a small quantity of fresh carrot, turnip, and onion; stew till the vegetables are tender, and serve with toasted bread. _Time_.--5 hours. __Average cost_,3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 12 persons. HODGE-PODGE. 191. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of shin of beef, 3 quarts of water, 1 pint of table-beer, 2 onions, 2 carrots, 2 turnips, 1 head of celery; pepper and salt to taste; thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Put the meat, beer, and water in a stewpan; simmer for a few minutes, and skim carefully. Add the vegetables and seasoning; stew gently till the meat is tender. Thicken with the butter and flour, and serve with turnips and carrots, or spinach and celery. _Time_.--3 hours, or rather more. _Average cost_, 3d. per quart. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 12 persons. TABLE BEER.--This is nothing more than a weak ale, and is not made so much with a view to strength, as to transparency of colour and an agreeable bitterness of taste. It is, or ought to be, manufactured by the London professional brewers, from the best pale malt, or amber and malt. Six barrels are usually drawn from one quarter of malt, with which are mixed 4 or 5 lbs. of hops. As a beverage, it is agreeable when fresh; but it is not adapted to keep long. FISH SOUPS. FISH STOCK. 192. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of beef or veal (these can be omitted), any kind of white fish trimmings, of fish which are to be dressed for table, 2 onions, the rind of 1/2 a lemon, a bunch of sweet herbs, 2 carrots, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the fish, and put it, with the other ingredients, into the water. Simmer for 2 hours; skim the liquor carefully, and strain it. When a richer stock is wanted, fry the vegetables and fish before adding the water. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, with meat, 10d. per quart; without, 3d. _Note_.--Do not make fish stock long before it is wanted, as it soon turns sour. CRAYFISH SOUP. 193. INGREDIENTS.--50 crayfish, 1/4 lb. of butter, 6 anchovies, the crumb of 1 French roll, a little lobster-spawn, seasoning to taste, 2 quarts of medium stock, No. 105, or fish stock, No. 192. _Mode_.--Shell the crayfish, and put the fish between two plates until they are wanted; pound the shells in a mortar, with the butter and anchovies; when well beaten, add a pint of stock, and simmer for 3/4 of an hour. Strain it through a hair sieve, put the remainder of the stock to it, with the crumb of the rolls; give it one boil, and rub it through a tammy, with the lobster-spawn. Put in the fish, but do not let the soup boil, after it has been rubbed through the tammy. If necessary, add seasoning. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 3d. or 1s. 9d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from January to July. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. [Illustration: CRAYFISH.] THE CRAYFISH.--This is one of those fishes that were highly esteemed by the ancients. The Greeks preferred it when brought from Alexandria, and the Romans ate it boiled with cumin, and seasoned with pepper and other condiments. A recipe tells us, that crayfish can be preserved several days in baskets with fresh grass, such as the nettle, or in a bucket with about three-eighths of an inch of water. More water would kill them, because the large quantity of air they require necessitates the water in which they are kept, to be continually renewed. EEL SOUP. 194. INGREDIENTS.--3 lbs. of eels, 1 onion, 2 oz. of butter, 3 blades of mace, 1 bunch of sweet herbs, 1/4 oz. of peppercorns, salt to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 1/4 pint of cream, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Wash the eels, cut them into thin slices, and put them in the stewpan with the butter; let them simmer for a few minutes, then pour the water to them, and add the onion, cut in thin slices, the herbs, mace, and seasoning. Simmer till the eels are tender, but do not break the fish. Take them out carefully, mix the flour smoothly to a batter with the cream, bring it to a boil, pour over the eels, and serve. _Time_.--1 hour, or rather more. _Average cost_, 10d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from June to March. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This soup may be flavoured differently by omitting the cream, and adding a little ketchup or Harvey's sauce. LOBSTER SOUP. 195. INGREDIENTS.--3 large lobsters, or 6 small ones; the crumb of a French roll, 2 anchovies, 1 onion, 1 small bunch of sweet herbs, 1 strip of lemon-peel, 2 oz. of butter, a little nutmeg, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 1 pint of cream, 1 pint of milk; forcemeat balls, mace, salt and pepper to taste, bread crumbs, 1 egg, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Pick the meat from the lobsters, and beat the fins, chine, and small claws in a mortar, previously taking away the brown fin and the bag in the head. Put it in a stewpan, with the crumb of the roll, anchovies, onions, herbs, lemon-peel, and the water; simmer gently till all the goodness is extracted, and strain it off. Pound the spawn in a mortar, with the butter, nutmeg, and flour, and mix with it the cream and milk. Give one boil up, at the same time adding the tails cut in pieces. Make the forcemeat balls with the remainder of the lobster, seasoned with mace, pepper, and salt, adding a little flour, and a few bread crumbs; moisten them with the egg, heat them in the soup, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours, or rather more. _Average cost_, 3s 6d per quart. _Seasonable_ from April to October. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. OYSTER SOUP. I. 196. INGREDIENTS.--6 dozen of oysters, 2 quarts of white stock, 1/2 pint of cream, 2 oz. of butter, 1-1/2 oz. of flour; salt, cayenne, and mace to taste. _Mode_.--Scald the oysters in their own liquor; take them out, beard them, and put them in a tureen. Take a pint of the stock, put in the beards and the liquor, which must be carefully strained, and simmer for 1/2 an hour. Take it off the fire, strain it again, and add the remainder of the stock with the seasoning and mace. Bring it to a boil, add the thickening of butter and flour, simmer for 5 minutes, stir in the boiling cream, pour it over the oysters, and serve. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 8d. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This soup can be made less rich by using milk instead of cream, and thickening with arrowroot instead of butter and flour. II. 197. INGREDIENTS.--2 quarts of good mutton broth, 6 dozen oysters, 2 oz. butter, 1 oz. of flour. _Mode_.--Beard the oysters, and scald them in their own liquor; then add it, well strained, to the broth; thicken with the butter and flour, and simmer for 1/4 of an hour. Put in the oysters, stir well, but do not let it boil, and serve very hot. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. per quart. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. SEASON OF OYSTERS.--From April and May to the end of July, oysters are said to be sick; but by the end of August they become healthy, having recovered from the effects of spawning. When they are not in season, the males have a black, and the females a milky substance in the gill. From some lines of Oppian, it would appear that the ancients were ignorant that the oyster is generally found adhering to rocks. The starfish is one of the most deadly enemies of these bivalves. The poet says:-- The prickly star creeps on with full deceit To force the oyster from his close retreat. When gaping lids their widen'd void display, The watchful star thrusts in a pointed ray, Of all its treasures spoils the rifled case, And empty shells the sandy hillock grace. PRAWN SOUP. 198. INGREDIENTS.--2 quarts of fish stock or water, 2 pints of prawns, the crumbs of a French roll, anchovy sauce or mushroom ketchup to taste, 1 blade of mace, 1 pint of vinegar, a little lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Pick out the tails of the prawns, put the bodies in a stewpan with 1 blade of mace, 1/2 pint of vinegar, and the same quantity of water; stew them for 1/4 hour, and strain off the liquor. Put the fish stock or water into a stewpan; add the strained liquor, pound the prawns with the crumb of a roll moistened with a little of the soup, rub them through a tammy, and mix them by degrees with the soup; add ketchup or anchovy sauce to taste, with a little lemon-juice. When it is well cooked, put in a few picked prawns; let them get thoroughly hot, and serve. If not thick enough, put in a little butter and flour. _Time_.--hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 1d. per quart, if made with water. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Note_.--This can be thickened with tomatoes, and vermicelli served in it, which makes it a very tasteful soup. [Illustration: THE PRAWN.] THE PRAWN.--This little fish bears a striking resemblance to the shrimp, but is neither so common nor so small. It is to be found on most of the sandy shores of Europe. The Isle of Wight is famous for shrimps, where they are potted; but both the prawns and the shrimps vended in London, are too much salted for the excellence of their natural flavour to be preserved. They are extremely lively little animals, as seen in their native retreats. [Illustration] FISH. CHAPTER VII. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF FISHES. 199. IN NATURAL HISTORY, FISHES form the fourth class in the system of Linnaeus, and are described as having long under-jaws, eggs without white, organs of sense, fins for supporters, bodies covered with concave scales, gills to supply the place of lungs for respiration, and water for the natural element of their existence. Had mankind no other knowledge of animals than of such as inhabit the land and breathe their own atmosphere, they would listen with incredulous wonder, if told that there were other kinds of beings which existed only in the waters, and which would die almost as soon as they were taken from them. However strongly these facts might be attested, they would hardly believe them, without the operation of their own senses, as they would recollect the effect produced on their own bodies when immersed in water, and the impossibility of their sustaining life in it for any lengthened period of time. Experience, however, has taught them, that the "great deep" is crowded with inhabitants of various sizes, and of vastly different constructions, with modes of life entirely distinct from those which belong to the animals of the land, and with peculiarities of design, equally wonderful with those of any other works which have come from the hand of the Creator. The history of these races, however, must remain for ever, more or less, in a state of darkness, since the depths in which they live, are beyond the power of human exploration, and since the illimitable expansion of their domain places them almost entirely out of the reach of human accessibility. 200. IN STUDYING THE CONFORMATION OF FISHES, we naturally conclude that they are, in every respect, well adapted to the element in which they have their existence. Their shape has a striking resemblance to the lower part of a ship; and there is no doubt that the form of the fish originally suggested the form of the ship. The body is in general slender, gradually diminishing towards each of its extremities, and flattened on each of its sides. This is precisely the form of the lower part of the hull of a ship; and it enables both the animal and the vessel, with comparative ease, to penetrate and divide the resisting medium for which they have been adapted. The velocity of a ship, however, in sailing before the wind, is by no means to be compared to that of a fish. It is well known that the largest fishes will, with the greatest ease, overtake a ship in full sail, play round it without effort, and shoot ahead of it at pleasure. This arises from their great flexibility, which, to compete with mocks the labours of art, and enables them to migrate thousands of miles in a season, without the slightest indications of languor or fatigue. 201. THE PRINCIPAL INSTRUMENTS EMPLOYED BY FISHES to accelerate their motion, are their air-bladder, fins, and tail. By means of the air-bladder they enlarge or diminish the specific gravity of their bodies. When they wish to sink, they compress the muscles of the abdomen, and eject the air contained in it; by which, their weight, compared with that of the water, is increased, and they consequently descend. On the other hand, when they wish to rise, they relax the compression of the abdominal muscles, when the air-bladder fills and distends, and the body immediately ascends to the surface. How simply, yet how wonderfully, has the Supreme Being adapted certain means to the attainment of certain ends! Those fishes which are destitute of the air-bladder are heavy in the water, and have no great "alacrity" in rising. The larger proportion of them remain at the bottom, unless they are so formed as to be able to strike their native element downwards with sufficient force to enable them to ascend. When the air-bladder of a fish is burst, its power of ascending to the surface has for ever passed away. From a knowledge of this fact, the fishermen of cod are enabled to preserve them alive for a considerable time in their well-boats. The means they adopt to accomplish this, is to perforate the sound, or air-bladder, with a needle, which disengages the air, when the fishes immediately descend to the bottom of the well, into which they are thrown. Without this operation, it would be impossible to keep the cod under water whilst they had life. In swimming, the _fins_ enable fishes to preserve their upright position, especially those of the belly, which act like two feet. Without those, they would swim with their bellies upward, as it is in their backs that the centre of gravity lies. In ascending and descending, these are likewise of great assistance, as they contract and expand accordingly. The _tail_ is an instrument of great muscular force, and largely assists the fish in all its motions. In some instances it acts like the rudder of a ship, and enables it to turn sideways; and when moved from side to side with a quick vibratory motion, fishes are made, in the same manner as the "screw" propeller makes a steamship, to dart forward with a celerity proportioned to the muscular force with which it is employed. 202. THE BODIES OF FISHES are mostly covered with a kind of horny scales; but some are almost entirely without them, or have them so minute as to be almost invisible; as is the case with the eel. The object of these is to preserve them from injury by the pressure of the water, or the sudden contact with pebbles, rocks, or sea-weeds. Others, again, are enveloped in a fatty, oleaginous substance, also intended as a defence against the friction of the water; and those in which the scales are small, are supplied with a larger quantity of slimy matter. 203. THE RESPIRATION OF FISHES is effected by means of those comb-like organs which are placed on each side of the neck, and which are called gills. It is curious to watch the process of breathing as it is performed by the finny tribes. It seems to be so continuous, that it might almost pass for an illustration of the vexed problem which conceals the secret of perpetual motion. In performing it, they fill their mouths with water, which they drive backwards with a force so great as to open the large flap, to allow it to escape behind. In this operation all, or a great portion, of the air contained in the water, is left among the feather-like processes of the gills, and is carried into the body, there to perform its part in the animal economy. In proof of this, it has been ascertained that, if the water in which fishes are put, is, by any means, denuded of its air, they immediately seek the surface, and begin to gasp for it. Hence, distilled water is to them what a vacuum made by an air-pump, is to most other animals. For this reason, when a fishpond, or other aqueous receptacle in which fishes are kept, is entirely frozen over, it is necessary to make holes in the ice, not so especially for the purpose of feeding them, as for that of giving them air to breathe. 204. THE POSITIONS OF THE TEETH OF FISHES are well calculated to excite our amazement; for, in some cases, these are situated in the jaws, sometimes on the tongue or palate, and sometimes even in the throat. They are in general sharp-pointed and immovable; but in the carp they are obtuse, and in the pike so easily moved as to seem to have no deeper hold than such as the mere skin can afford. In the herring, the tongue is set with teeth, to enable it the better, it is supposed, to retain its food. 205. ALTHOUGH NATURALISTS HAVE DIVIDED FISHES into two great tribes, the _osseous_ and the _cartilaginous_, yet the distinction is not very precise; for the first have a great deal of cartilage, and the second, at any rate, a portion of calcareous matter in their bones. It may, therefore, be said that the bones of fishes form a kind of intermediate substance between true bones and cartilages. The backbone extends through the whole length of the body, and consists of vertebrae, strong and thick towards the head, but weaker and more slender as it approaches the tail. Each species has a determinate number of vertebrae, which are increased in size in proportion with the body. The ribs are attached to the processes of the vertebrae, and inclose the breast and abdomen. Some kinds, as the rays, have no ribs; whilst others, as the sturgeon and eel, have very short ones. Between the pointed processes of the vertebrae are situated the bones which support the dorsal (back) and the anal (below the tail) fins, which are connected with the processes by a ligament. At the breast are the sternum or breastbone, clavicles or collar-bones, and the scapulae or shoulder-blades, on which the pectoral or breast fins are placed. The bones which support the ventral or belly fins are called the _ossa pelvis_. Besides these principal bones, there are often other smaller ones, placed between the muscles to assist their motion. 206. SOME OF THE ORGANS OF SENSE IN FISHES are supposed to be possessed by them in a high degree, and others much more imperfectly. Of the latter kind are the senses of touch and taste, which are believed to be very slightly developed. On the other hand, those of hearing, seeing, and smelling, are ascertained to be acute, but the first in a lesser degree than both the second and third. Their possession of an auditory organ was long doubted, and even denied by some physiologists; but it has been found placed on the sides of the skull, or in the cavity which contains the brain. It occupies a position entirely distinct and detached from the skull, and, in this respect, differs in the local disposition of the same sense in birds and quadrupeds. In some fishes, as in those of the ray kind, the organ is wholly encompassed by those parts which contain the cavity of the skull; whilst in the cod and salmon kind it is in the part within the skull. Its structure is, in every way, much more simple than that of the same sense in those animals which live entirely in the air; but there is no doubt that they have the adaptation suitable to their condition. In some genera, as in the rays, the external orifice or ear is very small, and is placed in the upper surface of the head; whilst in others there is no visible external orifice whatever. However perfect the _sight_ of fishes may be, experience has shown that this sense is of much less use to them than that of smelling, in searching for their food. The optic nerves in fishes have this peculiarity,--that they are not confounded with one another in their middle progress between their origin and their orbit. The one passes over the other without any communication; so that the nerve which comes from the left side of the brain goes distinctly to the right eye, and that which comes from the right goes distinctly to the left. In the greater part of them, the eye is covered with the same transparent skin that covers the rest of the head. The object of this arrangement, perhaps, is to defend it from the action of the water, as there are no eyelids. The globe in front is somewhat depressed, and is furnished behind with a muscle, which serves to lengthen or flatten it, according to the necessities of the animal. The crystalline humour, which in quadrupeds is flattened, is, in fishes, nearly globular. The organ of _smelling_ in fishes is large, and is endued, at its entry, with a dilating and contracting power, which is employed as the wants of the animal may require. It is mostly by the acuteness of their smell that fishes are enabled to discover their food; for their tongue is not designed for nice sensation, being of too firm a cartilaginous substance for this purpose. 207. WITH RESPECT TO THE FOOD OF FISHES, this is almost universally found in their own element. They are mostly carnivorous, though they seize upon almost anything that comes in their way: they even devour their own offspring, and manifest a particular predilection for all living creatures. Those, to which Nature has meted out mouths of the greatest capacity, would seem to pursue everything with life, and frequently engage in fierce conflicts with their prey. The animal with the largest mouth is usually the victor; and he has no sooner conquered his foe than he devours him. Innumerable shoals of one species pursue those of another, with a ferocity which draws them from the pole to the equator, through all the varying temperatures and depths of their boundless domain. In these pursuits a scene of universal violence is the result; and many species must have become extinct, had not Nature accurately proportioned the means of escape, the production, and the numbers, to the extent and variety of the danger to which they are exposed. Hence the smaller species are not only more numerous, but more productive than the larger; whilst their instinct leads them in search of food and safety near the shores, where, from the shallowness of the waters, many of their foes are unable to follow them. 208. THE FECUNDITY OF FISHES has been the wonder of every natural philosopher whose attention has been attracted to the subject. They are in general oviparous, or egg-producing; but there are a few, such as the eel and the blenny, which are viviparous, or produce their young alive. The males have the _milt_ and the females the _roe_; but some individuals, as the sturgeon and the cod tribes, are said to contain both. The greater number deposit their spawn in the sand or gravel; but some of those which dwell in the depths of the ocean attach their eggs to sea-weeds. In every instance, however, their fruitfulness far surpasses that of any other race of animals. According to Lewenhoeck, the cod annually spawns upwards of nine millions of eggs, contained in a single roe. The flounder produces one million; the mackerel above five hundred thousand; a herring of a moderate size at least ten thousand; a carp fourteen inches in length, according to Petit, contained two hundred and sixty-two thousand two hundred and twenty-four; a perch deposited three hundred and eighty thousand six hundred and forty; and a female sturgeon seven millions six hundred and fifty-three thousand two hundred. The viviparous species are by no means so prolific; yet the blenny brings forth two or three hundred at a time, which commence sporting together round their parent the moment they have come into existence. 209. IN REFERENCE TO THE LONGEVITY OF FISHES, it is affirmed to surpass that of all other created beings; and it is supposed they are, to a great extent, exempted from the diseases to which the flesh of other animals is heir. In place of suffering from the rigidity of age, which is the cause of the natural decay of those that "live and move and have their being" on the land, their bodies continue to grow with each succeeding supply of food, and the conduits of life to perform their functions unimpaired. The age of fishes has not been properly ascertained, although it is believed that the most minute of the species has a longer lease of life than man. The mode in which they die has been noted by the Rev. Mr. White, the eminent naturalist of Selbourne. As soon as the fish sickens, the head sinks lower and lower, till the animal, as it were, stands upon it. After this, as it becomes weaker, it loses its poise, till the tail turns over, when it comes to the surface, and floats with its belly upwards. The reason for its floating in this manner is on account of the body being no longer balanced by the fins of the belly, and the broad muscular back preponderating, by its own gravity, over the belly, from this latter being a cavity, and consequently lighter. 210. FISHES ARE EITHER SOLITARY OR GREGARIOUS, and some of them migrate to great distances, and into certain rivers, to deposit their spawn. Of sea-fishes, the cod, herring, mackerel, and many others, assemble in immense shoals, and migrate through different tracts of the ocean; but, whether considered in their solitary or gregarious capacity, they are alike wonderful to all who look through Nature up to Nature's God, and consider, with due humility, yet exalted admiration, the sublime variety, beauty, power, and grandeur of His productions, as manifested in the Creation. FISH AS AN ARTICLE OF HUMAN FOOD. 211. AS THE NUTRITIVE PROPERTIES OF FISH are deemed inferior to those of what is called butchers' meat, it would appear, from all we can learn, that, in all ages, it has held only a secondary place in the estimation of those who have considered the science of gastronomy as a large element in the happiness of mankind. Among the Jews of old it was very little used, although it seems not to have been entirely interdicted, as Moses prohibited only the use of such as had neither scales nor fins. The Egyptians, however, made fish an article of diet, notwithstanding that it was rejected by their priests. Egypt, however, is not a country favourable to the production of fish, although we read of the people, when hungry, eating it raw; of epicures among them having dried it in the sun; and of its being salted and preserved, to serve as a repast on days of great solemnity. The modern Egyptians are, in general, extremely temperate in regard to food. Even the richest among them take little pride, and, perhaps, experience as little delight, in the luxuries of the table. Their dishes mostly consist of pilaus, soups, and stews, prepared principally of onions, cucumbers, and other cold vegetables, mixed with a little meat cut into small pieces. On special occasions, however, a whole sheep is placed on the festive board; but during several of the hottest months of the year, the richest restrict themselves entirely to a vegetable diet. The poor are contented with a little oil or sour milk, in which they may dip their bread. 212. PASSING FROM AFRICA TO EUROPE, we come amongst a people who have, almost from time immemorial, occupied a high place in the estimation of every civilized country; yet the Greeks, in their earlier ages, made very little use of fish as an article of diet. In the eyes of the heroes of Homer it had little favour; for Menelaus complained that "hunger pressed their digestive organs," and they had been obliged to live upon fish. Subsequently, however, fish became one of the principal articles of diet amongst the Hellenes; and both Aristophanes and Athenaeus allude to it, and even satirize their countrymen for their excessive partiality to the turbot and mullet. So infatuated were many of the Greek gastronomes with the love of fish, that some of them would have preferred death from indigestion to the relinquishment of the precious dainties with which a few of the species supplied them. Philoxenes of Cythera was one of these. On being informed by his physician that he was going to die of indigestion, on account of the quantity he was consuming of a delicious fish, "Be it so," he calmly observed; "but before I die, let me finish the remainder." 213. THE GEOGRAPHICAL SITUATION OF GREECE was highly favourable for the development of a taste for the piscatory tribes; and the skill of the Greek cooks was so great, that they could impart every variety of relish to the dish they were called upon to prepare. Athenaeus has transmitted to posterity some very important precepts upon their ingenuity in seasoning with salt, oil, and aromatics. At the present day the food of the Greeks, through the combined influence of poverty and the long fasts which their religion imposes upon them, is, to a large extent, composed of fish, accompanied with vegetables and fruit. Caviare, prepared from the roes of sturgeons, is the national ragout, which, like all other fish dishes, they season with aromatic herbs. Snails dressed in garlic are also a favourite dish. 214. AS THE ROMANS, in a great measure, took their taste in the fine arts from the Greeks, so did they, in some measure, their piscine appetites. The eel-pout and the lotas's liver were the favourite fish dishes of the Roman epicures; whilst the red mullet was esteemed as one of the most delicate fishes that could be brought to the table. With all the elegance, taste, and refinement of Roman luxury, it was sometimes promoted or accompanied by acts of great barbarity. In proof of this, the mention of the red mullet suggests the mode in which it was sometimes treated for the, to us, _horrible_ entertainment of the _fashionable_ in Roman circles. It may be premised, that as England has, Rome, in her palmy days, had, her fops, who had, no doubt, through the medium of their cooks, discovered that when the scales of the red mullet were removed, the flesh presented a fine pink-colour. Having discovered this, it was further observed that at the death of the animal, this colour passed through a succession of beautiful shades, and, in order that these might be witnessed and enjoyed in their fullest perfection, the poor mullet was served alive in a glass vessel. 215. THE LOVE OF FISH among the ancient Romans rose to a real mania. Apicius offered a prize to any one who could invent a new brine compounded of the liver of red mullets; and Lucullus had a canal cut through a mountain, in the neighbourhood of Naples, that fish might be the more easily transported to the gardens of his villa. Hortensius, the orator, wept over the death of a turbot which he had fed with his own hands; and the daughter of Druses adorned one that she had, with rings of gold. These were, surely, instances of misplaced affection; but there is no accounting for tastes. It was but the other day that we read in the "_Times_" of a wealthy _living_ English hermit, who delights in the companionship of rats! The modern Romans are merged in the general name of Italians, who, with the exception of macaroni, have no specially characteristic article of food. 216. FROM ROME TO GAUL is, considering the means of modern locomotion, no great way; but the ancient sumptuary laws of that kingdom give us little information regarding the ichthyophagous propensities of its inhabitants. Louis XII. engaged six fishmongers to furnish his board with fresh-water animals, and Francis I. had twenty-two, whilst Henry the Great extended his requirements a little further, and had twenty-four. In the time of Louis XIV. the cooks had attained to such a degree of perfection in their art, that they could convert the form and flesh of the trout, pike, or carp, into the very shape and flavour of the most delicious game. The French long enjoyed a European reputation for their skill and refinement in the preparing of food. In place of plain joints, French cookery delights in the marvels of what are called made dishes, ragouts, stews, and fricassees, in which no trace of the original materials of which they are compounded is to be found. 217. FROM GAUL WE CROSS TO BRITAIN, where it has been asserted, by, at least, one authority, that the ancient inhabitants ate no fish. However this may be, we know that the British shores, particularly those of the North Sea, have always been well supplied with the best kinds of fish, which we may reasonably infer was not unknown to the inhabitants, or likely to be lost upon them for the lack of knowledge as to how they tasted. By the time of Edward II., fish had, in England, become a dainty, especially the sturgeon, which was permitted to appear on no table but that of the king. In the fourteenth century, a decree of King John informs us that the people ate both seals and porpoises; whilst in the days of the Troubadours, whales were fished for and caught in the Mediterranean Sea, for the purpose of being used as human food. Whatever checks the ancient British may have had upon their piscatory appetites, there are happily none of any great consequence upon the modern, who delight in wholesome food of every kind. Their taste is, perhaps, too much inclined to that which is accounted solid and substantial; but they really eat more moderately, even of animal food, than either the French or the Germans. Roast beef, or other viands cooked in the plainest manner, are, with them, a sufficient luxury; yet they delight in living _well_, whilst it is easy to prove how largely their affections are developed by even the prospect of a substantial cheer. In proof of this we will just observe, that if a great dinner is to be celebrated, it is not uncommon for the appointed stewards and committee to meet and have a preliminary dinner among themselves, in order to arrange the great one, and after that, to have another dinner to discharge the bill which the great one cost. This enjoyable disposition we take to form a very large item in the aggregate happiness of the nation. 218. THE GENERAL USE OF FISH, as an article of human food among civilized nations, we have thus sufficiently shown, and will conclude this portion of our subject with the following hints, which ought to be remembered by all those who are fond of occasionally varying their dietary with a piscine dish:-- I. Fish shortly before they spawn are, in general, best in condition. When the spawning is just over, they are out of season, and unfit for human food. II. When fish is out of season, it has a transparent, bluish tinge, however much it may be boiled; when it is in season, its muscles are firm, and boil white and curdy. III. As food for invalids, white fish, such as the ling, cod, haddock, coal-fish, and whiting, are the best; flat fish, as soles, skate, turbot, and flounders, are also good. IV. Salmon, mackerel, herrings, and trout soon spoil or decompose after they are killed; therefore, to be in perfection, they should be prepared for the table on the day they are caught. With flat fish, this is not of such consequence, as they will keep longer. The turbot, for example, is improved by being kept a day or two. GENERAL DIRECTIONS FOR DRESSING FISH. 219. IN DRESSING FISH, of any kind, the first point to be attended to, is to see that it be perfectly clean. It is a common error to wash it too much; as by doing so the flavour is diminished. If the fish is to be boiled, a little salt and vinegar should be put into the water, to give it firmness, after it is cleaned. Cod-fish, whiting, and haddock, are far better if a little salted, and kept a day; and if the weather be not very hot, they will be good for two days. 220. WHEN FISH IS CHEAP AND PLENTIFUL, and a larger quantity is purchased than is immediately wanted, the overplus of such as will bear it should be potted, or pickled, or salted, and hung up; or it may be fried, that it may serve for stewing the next day. Fresh-water fish, having frequently a muddy smell and taste, should be soaked in strong salt and water, after it has been well cleaned. If of a sufficient size, it may be scalded in salt and water, and afterwards dried and dressed. 221. FISH SHOULD BE PUT INTO COLD WATER, and set on the fire to do very gently, or the outside will break before the inner part is done. Unless the fishes are small, they should never be put into warm water; nor should water, either hot or cold, be poured _on_ to the fish, as it is liable to break the skin: if it should be necessary to add a little water whilst the fish is cooking, it ought to be poured in gently at the side of the vessel. The fish-plate may be drawn up, to see if the fish be ready, which may be known by its easily separating from the bone. It should then be immediately taken out of the water, or it will become woolly. The fish-plate should be set crossways over the kettle, to keep hot for serving, and a clean cloth over the fish, to prevent its losing its colour. 222. IN GARNISHING FISH, great attention is required, and plenty of parsley, horseradish, and lemon should be used. If fried parsley be used, it must be washed and picked, and thrown into fresh water. When the lard or dripping boils, throw the parsley into it immediately from the water, and instantly it will be green and crisp, and must be taken up with a slice. When well done, and with very good sauce, fish is more appreciated than almost any other dish. The liver and roe, in some instances, should be placed on the dish, in order that they may be distributed in the course of serving; but to each recipe will be appended the proper mode of serving and garnishing. 223. IF FISH IS TO BE FRIED OR BROILED, it must be dried in a nice soft cloth, after it is well cleaned and washed. If for frying, brush it over with egg, and sprinkle it with some fine crumbs of bread. If done a second time with the egg and bread, the fish will look so much the better. If required to be very nice, a sheet of white blotting-paper must be placed to receive it, that it may be free from all grease. It must also be of a beautiful colour, and all the crumbs appear distinct. Butter gives a bad colour; lard and clarified dripping are most frequently used; but oil is the best, if the expense be no objection. The fish should be put into the lard when boiling, and there should be a sufficiency of this to cover it. 224. WHEN FISH IS BROILED, it must be seasoned, floured, and laid on a very clean gridiron, which, when hot, should be rubbed with a bit of suet, to prevent the fish from sticking. It must be broiled over a very clear fire, that it may not taste smoky; and not too near, that it may not be scorched. 225. IN CHOOSING FISH, it is well to remember that it is possible it may be _fresh_, and yet not _good_. Under the head of each particular fish in this work, are appended rules for its choice and the months when it is in season. Nothing can be of greater consequence to a cook than to have the fish good; as if this important course in a dinner does not give satisfaction, it is rarely that the repast goes off well. RECIPES. CHAPTER VIII. FISH. [_Nothing is more difficult than to give the average prices of Fish, inasmuch as a few hours of bad weather at sea will, in the space of one day, cause such a difference in its supply, that the same fish--a turbot for instance--which may be bought to-day for six or seven shillings, will, to-morrow, be, in the London markets, worth, perhaps, almost as many pounds. The average costs, therefore, which will be found appended to each recipe, must be understood as about the average price for the different kinds of fish, when the market is supplied upon an average, and when the various sorts are of an average size and quality._ GENERAL RULE IN CHOOSING FISH.--_A proof of freshness and goodness in most fishes, is their being covered with scales; for, if deficient in this respect, it is a sign of their being stale, or having been ill-used._] FRIED ANCHOVIES. 226. INGREDIENTS.--1 tablespoonful of oil, 1/2 a glass of white wine, sufficient flour to thicken; 12 anchovies. _Mode_.--Mix the oil and wine together, with sufficient flour to make them into a thickish paste; cleanse the anchovies, wipe them, dip them in the paste, and fry of a nice brown colour. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 9d. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 2 persons. [Illustration: THE ANCHOVY.] THE ANCHOVY.--In his book of "British Fishes," Mr. Yarrell states that "the anchovy is a common fish in the Mediterranean, from Greece to Gibraltar, and was well known to the Greeks and Romans, by whom the liquor prepared from it, called _garum_, was in great estimation. Its extreme range is extended into the Black Sea. The fishing for them is carried on during the night, and lights are used with the nets. The anchovy is common on the coasts of Portugal, Spain, and France. It occurs, I have no doubt, at the Channel Islands, and has been taken on the Hampshire coast, and in the Bristol Channel." Other fish, of inferior quality, but resembling the real Gorgona anchovy, are frequently sold for it, and passed off as genuine. ANCHOVY BUTTER OR PASTE. 227. INGREDIENTS.--2 dozen anchovies, 1/2 lb. of fresh butter. _Mode_.--Wash the anchovies thoroughly; bone and dry them, and pound them in a mortar to a paste. Mix the butter gradually with them, and rub the whole through a sieve. Put it by in small pots for use, and carefully exclude the air with a bladder, as it soon changes the colour of anchovies, besides spoiling them. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 2s. POTTED ANCHOVIES. POTTED ANCHOVIES are made in the same way, by adding pounded mace, cayenne, and nutmeg to taste. ANCHOVY TOAST. 228. INGREDIENTS.--Toast 2 or 3 slices of bread, or, if wanted very savoury, fry them in clarified butter, and spread on them the paste, No. 227. Made mustard, or a few grains of cayenne, may be added to the paste before laying it on the toast. ANCHOVY PASTE.--"When some delicate zest," says a work just issued on the adulterations of trade, "is required to make the plain English breakfast more palatable, many people are in the habit of indulging in what they imagine to be anchovies. These fish are preserved in a kind of pickling-bottle, carefully corked down, and surrounded by a red-looking liquor, resembling in appearance diluted clay. The price is moderate, one shilling only being demanded for the luxury. When these anchovies are what is termed potted, it implies that the fish have been pounded into the consistency of a paste, and then placed in flat pots, somewhat similar in shape to those used for pomatum. This paste is usually eaten spread upon toast, and is said to form an excellent _bonne bouche_, which enables gentlemen at wine-parties to enjoy their port with redoubled gusto. Unfortunately, in six cases out of ten, the only portion of these preserved delicacies, that contains anything indicative of anchovies, is the paper label pasted on the bottle or pot, on which the word itself is printed.... All the samples of anchovy paste, analyzed by different medical men, have been found to be highly and vividly coloured with very large quantities of bole Armenian." The anchovy itself, when imported, is of a dark dead colour, and it is to make it a bright "handsome-looking sauce" that this red earth is used. BARBEL. 229. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of port wine, a saltspoonful of salt, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 2 sliced onions, a faggot of sweet herbs, nutmeg and mace to taste, the juice of a lemon, 2 anchovies; 1 or 2 barbels, according to size. _Mode_--Boil the barbels in salt and water till done; pour off some of the water, and, to the remainder, put the ingredients mentioned above. Simmer gently for 1/2 hour, or rather more, and strain. Put in the fish; heat it gradually; but do not let it boil, or it will be broken. _Time_.--Altogether 1 hour. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to November. [Illustration: THE BARBEL.] THE BARBEL,--This fish takes its name from the barbs or wattels at its mouth; and, in England, is esteemed as one of the worst of the fresh-water fish. It was, however, formerly, if not now, a favourite with the Jews, excellent cookers of fish. Others would boil with it a piece of bacon, that it might have a relish. It is to be met with from two to three or four feet long, and is said to live to a great age. From Putney upwards, in the Thames, some are found of large size; but they are valued only as affording sport to the brethren of the angle. BRILL. 230. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water; a little vinegar. _Mode_.--Clean the brill, cut off the fins, and rub it over with a little lemon-juice, to preserve its whiteness. Set the fish in sufficient cold water to cover it; throw in salt, in the above proportions, and a little vinegar, and bring it gradually to boil; simmer very gently till the fish is done, which will be in about 10 minutes; but the time for boiling, of course, depends entirely on the size of the fish. Serve it on a hot napkin, and garnish with cut lemon, parsley, horseradish, and a little lobster coral sprinkled over the fish. Send lobster or shrimp sauce and plain melted butter to table with it. _Time_.--After the water boils, a small brill, 10 minutes; a large brill, 15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, from 4s. to 8s. _Seasonable_ from August to April. [Illustration: THE BRILL.] THE BRILL.--This fish resembles the sole, but is broader, and when large, is esteemed by many in a scarcely less degree than the turbot, whilst it is much cheaper. It is a fine fish, and is abundant in the London market. TO CHOOSE BRILL.--The flesh of this fish, like that of turbot, should be of a yellowish tint, and should be chosen on account of its thickness. If the flesh has a bluish tint, it is not good. CODFISH. 231. Cod may be boiled whole; but a large head and shoulders are quite sufficient for a dish, and contain all that is usually helped, because, when the thick part is done, the tail is insipid and overdone. The latter, cut in slices, makes a very good dish for frying; or it may be salted down and served with egg sauce and parsnips. Cod, when boiled quite fresh, is watery; salting a little, renders it firmer. [Illustration: THE COD.] THE COD TRIBE.--The Jugular, characterized by bony gills, and ventral fins before the pectoral ones, commences the second of the Linnaean orders of fishes, and is a numerous tribe, inhabiting only the depths of the ocean, and seldom visiting the fresh waters. They have a smooth head, and the gill membrane has seven rays. The body is oblong, and covered with deciduous scales. The fins are all inclosed in skin, whilst their rays are unarmed. The ventral fins are slender, and terminate in a point. Their habits are gregarious, and they feed on smaller fish and other marine animals. COD'S HEAD AND SHOULDERS. 232. INGREDIENTS.--Sufficient water to cover the fish; 5 oz. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Cleanse the fish thoroughly, and rub a little salt over the thick part and inside of the fish, 1 or 2 hours before dressing it, as this very much improves the flavour. Lay it in the fish-kettle, with sufficient cold water to cover it. Be very particular not to pour the water on the fish, as it is liable to break it, and only keep it just simmering. If the water should boil away, add a little by pouring it in at the side of the kettle, and not on the fish. Add salt in the above proportion, and bring it gradually to a boil. Skim very carefully, draw it to the side of the fire, and let it gently simmer till done. Take it out and drain it; serve on a hot napkin, and garnish with cut lemon, horseradish, the roe and liver. (_See_ Coloured Plate C.) _Time_.--According to size, 1/2 an hour, more or less. _Average cost_, from 3s. to 6s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to March. _Note_.--Oyster sauce and plain melted butter should be served with this. TO CHOOSE COD.--The cod should be chosen for the table when it is plump and round near the tail, when the hollow behind the head is deep, and when the sides are undulated as if they were ribbed. The glutinous parts about the head lose their delicate flavour, after the fish has been twenty-four hours out of the water. The great point by which the cod should be judged is the firmness of its flesh; and, although the cod is not firm when it is alive, its quality may be arrived at by pressing the finger into the flesh. If this rises immediately, the fish is good; if not, it is stale. Another sign of its goodness is, if the fish, when it is cut, exhibits a bronze appearance, like the silver side of a round of beef. When this is the case, the flesh will be firm when cooked. Stiffness in a cod, or in any other fish, is a sure sign of freshness, though not always of quality. Sometimes, codfish, though exhibiting signs of rough usage, will eat much better than those with red gills, so strongly recommended by many cookery-books. This appearance is generally caused by the fish having been knocked about at sea, in the well-boats, in which they are conveyed from the fishing-grounds to market. SALT COD, COMMONLY CALLED "SALT-FISH." 233. INGREDIENTS.--Sufficient water to cover the fish. _Mode_.--Wash the fish, and lay it all night in water, with a 1/4 pint of vinegar. When thoroughly soaked, take it out, see that it is perfectly clean, and put it in the fish-kettle with sufficient cold water to cover it. Heat it gradually, but do not let it boil much, or the fish will be hard. Skim well, and when done, drain the fish and put it on a napkin garnished with hard-boiled eggs cut in rings. _Time_.--About 1 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Seasonable_ in the spring. _Sufficient_ for each person, 1/4 lb. _Note_.--Serve with egg sauce and parsnips. This is an especial dish on Ash Wednesday. PRESERVING COD.--Immediately as the cod are caught, their heads are cut off. They are then opened, cleaned, and salted, when they are stowed away in the hold of the vessel, in beds of five or six yards square, head to tail, with a layer of salt to each layer of fish. When they have lain in this state three or four days, in order that the water may drain from them, they are shifted into a different part of the vessel, and again salted. Here they remain till the vessel is loaded, when they are sometimes cut into thick pieces and packed in barrels for the greater convenience of carriage. COD SOUNDS. Should be well soaked in salt and water, and thoroughly washed before dressing them. They are considered a great delicacy, and may either be broiled, fried, or boiled: if they are boiled, mix a little milk with the water. COD SOUNDS, EN POULE. 234. INGREDIENTS.--For forcemeat, 12 chopped oysters, 3 chopped anchovies, 1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 1 oz. of butter, 2 eggs; seasoning of salt, pepper, nutmeg, and mace to taste; 4 cod sounds. _Mode_.--Make the forcemeat by mixing the ingredients well together. Wash the sounds, and boil them in milk and water for 1/2 an hour; take them out and let them cool. Cover each with a layer of forcemeat, roll them up in a nice form, and skewer them. Rub over with lard, dredge with flour, and cook them gently before the fire in a Dutch oven. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from November to March. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. THE SOUNDS IN CODFISH.--These are the air or swimming bladders, by means of which the fishes are enabled to ascend or descend in the water. In the Newfoundland fishery they are taken out previous to incipient putrefaction, washed from their slime and salted for exportation. The tongues are also cured and packed up in barrels; whilst, from the livers, considerable quantities of oil are extracted, this oil having been found possessed of the most nourishing properties, and particularly beneficial in cases of pulmonary affections. COD PIE. (_Economical_.) I. 235. INGREDIENTS.--Any remains of cold cod, 12 oysters, sufficient melted butter to moisten it; mashed potatoes enough to fill up the dish. _Mode_.--Flake the fish from the bone, and carefully take away all the skin. Lay it in a pie-dish, pour over the melted butter and oysters (or oyster sauce, if there is any left), and cover with mashed potatoes. Bake for 1/2 an hour, and send to table of a nice brown colour. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ from November to March. II. 236. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of cod; pepper and salt to taste; 1/2 a teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1 large blade of pounded mace, 2 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of stock No. 107, a paste crust (_see_ Pastry). For sauce, 1 tablespoonful of stock, 1/4 pint of cream or milk, thickening of flour or butter; lemon-peel chopped very fine to taste; 12 oysters. _Mode_.--Lay the cod in salt for 4 hours, then wash it and place it in a dish; season, and add the butter and stock; cover with the crust, and bake for 1 hour, or rather more. Now make the sauce, by mixing the ingredients named above; give it one boil, and pour it into the pie by a hole made at the top of the crust, which can easily be covered by a small piece of pastry cut and baked in any fanciful shape--such as a leaf, or otherwise. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, with fresh fish, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ from November to March. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Note_.--The remains of cold fish may be used for this pie. CURRIED COD. 237. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of large cod, or the remains of any cold fish; 3 oz. of butter, 1 onion sliced, a teacupful of white stock, thickening of butter and flour, 1 small teaspoonful of curry-powder, 1/4 pint of cream, salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Flake the fish, and fry it of a nice brown colour with the butter and onions; put this in a stewpan, add the stock and thickening, and simmer for 10 minutes. Stir the curry-powder into the cream; put it, with the seasoning, to the other ingredients; give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, with fresh fish, 3s. _Seasonable_ from November to March. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. THE FOOD OF THE COD.--This chiefly consists of the smaller species of the scaly tribes, shell-fish, crabs, and worms. Their voracity is very great, and they will bite at any small body they see moved by the water, even stones and pebbles, which are frequently found in their stomachs. They sometimes attain a great size, but their usual weight is from 14 to 40 lbs. COD A LA CREME. 238. INGREDIENTS.--1 large slice of cod, 1 oz. of butter, 1 chopped shalot, a little minced parsley, 1/4 teacupful of white stock, 1/4 pint of milk or cream, flour to thicken, cayenne and lemon-juice to taste, 1/4 teaspoonful of powdered sugar. _Mode_.--Boil the cod, and while hot, break it into flakes; put the butter, shalot, parsley, and stock into a stewpan, and let them boil for 5 minutes. Stir in sufficient flour to thicken, and pour to it the milk or cream. Simmer for 10 minutes, add the cayenne and sugar, and, when liked, a little lemon-juice. Put the fish in the sauce to warm gradually, but do not let it boil. Serve in a dish garnished with croûtons. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, with cream, 2s. _Seasonable_ from November to March. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. _Note_.--The remains of fish from the preceding day answer very well for this dish. COD A LA BECHAMEL. 239. INGREDIENTS.--Any remains of cold cod, 4 tablespoonfuls of béchamel (_see_ Sauces), 2 oz. butter; seasoning to taste of pepper and salt; fried bread, a few bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Flake the cod carefully, leaving out all skin and bone; put the béchamel in a stewpan with the butter, and stir it over the fire till the latter is melted; add seasoning, put in the fish, and mix it well with the sauce. Make a border of fried bread round the dish, lay in the fish, sprinkle over with bread crumbs, and baste with butter. Brown either before the fire or with a salamander, and garnish with toasted bread cut in fanciful shapes. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the fish, 6d. THE HABITAT OF THE COD.--This fish is found only in the seas of the northern parts of the world, between the latitudes of 45° and 66°. Its great rendezvous are the sandbanks of Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, Cape Breton, and New England. These places are its favourite resorts; for there it is able to obtain great quantities of worms, a food peculiarly grateful to it. Another cause of its attachment to these places has been said to be on account of the vicinity to the Polar seas, where it returns to spawn. Few are taken north of Iceland, and the shoals never reach so far south as the Straits of Gibraltar. Many are taken on the coasts of Norway, in the Baltic, and off the Orkneys, which, prior to the discovery of Newfoundland, formed one of the principal fisheries. The London market is supplied by those taken between the Dogger Bank, the Well Bank, and Cromer, on the east coast of England. COD A LA MAITRE D'HOTEL. 240. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of cod, 1/4 lb. of butter, a little chopped shalot and parsley; pepper to taste, 1/4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, or rather less, when the flavour is not liked; the juice of 1/4 lemon. _Mode_.--Boil the cod, and either leave it whole, or, what is still better, flake it from the bone, and take off the skin. Put it into a stewpan with the butter, parsley, shalot, pepper, and nutmeg. Melt the butter gradually, and be very careful that it does not become like oil. When all is well mixed and thoroughly hot, add the lemon-juice, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d.; with remains of cold fish, 5d. _Seasonable_ from November to March. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Note_.--Cod that has been left will do for this. THE SEASON FOR FISHING COD.--The best season for catching cod is from the beginning of February to the end of April; and although each fisherman engaged in taking them, catches no more than one at a time, an expert hand will sometimes take four hundred in a day. The employment is excessively fatiguing, from the weight of the fish as well as from the coldness of the climate. COD A L'ITALIENNE. 241. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of crimped cod, 1 shalot, 1 slice of ham minced very fine, 1/2 pint of white stock, No. 107; when liked, 1/2 teacupful of cream; salt to taste; a few drops of garlic vinegar, a little lemon-juice, 1/2 teaspoonful of powdered sugar. _Mode_.--Chop the shalots, mince the ham very fine, pour on the stock, and simmer for 15 minutes. If the colour should not be good, add cream in the above proportion, and strain it through a fine sieve; season it, and put in the vinegar, lemon-juice, and sugar. Now boil the cod, take out the middle bone, and skin it; put it on the dish without breaking, and pour the sauce over it. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d., with fresh fish. _Seasonable_ from November to March. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. THE FECUNDITY OF THE COD.--In our preceding remarks on the natural history of fishes, we have spoken of the amazing fruitfulness of this fish; but in this we see one more instance of the wise provision which Nature has made for supplying the wants of man. So extensive has been the consumption of this fish, that it is surprising that it has not long ago become extinct; which would certainly have been the case, had it not been for its wonderful powers of reproduction. "So early as 1368," says Dr. Cloquet, "the inhabitants of Amsterdam had dispatched fishermen to the coast of Sweden; and in the first quarter of 1792, from the ports of France only, 210 vessels went out to the cod-fisheries. Every year, however, upwards of 10,000 vessels, of all nations, are employed in this trade, and bring into the commercial world more than 40,000,000 of salted and dried cod. If we add to this immense number, the havoc made among the legions of cod by the larger scaly tribes of the great deep, and take into account the destruction to which the young are exposed by sea-fowls and other inhabitants of the seas, besides the myriads of their eggs destroyed by accident, it becomes a miracle to find that such mighty multitudes of them are still in existence, and ready to continue the exhaustless supply. Yet it ceases to excite our wonder when we remember that the female can every year give birth to more than 9,000,000 at a time." BAKED CARP. 242. INGREDIENTS--1 carp, forcemeat, bread crumbs, 1 oz. butter, 1/2 pint of stock No. 105, 1/2 pint of port wine, 6 anchovies, 2 onions sliced, 1 bay-leaf, a faggot of sweet herbs, flour to thicken, the juice of 1 lemon; cayenne and salt to taste; 1/2 teaspoonful of powdered sugar. _Mode_.--Stuff the carp with a delicate forcemeat, after thoroughly cleansing it, and sew it up to prevent the stuffing from falling out. Rub it over with an egg, and sprinkle it with bread crumbs, lay it in a deep earthen dish, and drop the butter, oiled, over the bread crumbs. Add the stock, onions, bay-leaf, herbs, wine, and anchovies, and bake for 1 hour. Put 1 oz. of butter into a stewpan, melt it, and dredge in sufficient flour to dry it up; put in the strained liquor from the carp, stir frequently, and when it has boiled, add the lemon-juice and seasoning. Serve the carp on a dish garnished with parsley and cut lemon, and the sauce in a boat. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_. Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Sufficient_ for 1 or 2 persons. [Illustration: THE CARP.] THE CARP.--This species of fish inhabit the fresh waters, where they feed on worms, insects, aquatic plants, small fish, clay, or mould. Some of them are migratory. They have very small mouths and no teeth, and the gill membrane has three rays. The body is smooth, and generally whitish. The carp both grows and increases very fast, and is accounted the most valuable of all fish for the stocking of ponds. It has been pronounced the queen of river-fish, and was first introduced to this country about three hundred years ago. Of its sound, or air-bladder, a kind of glue is made, and a green paint of its gall. STEWED CARP. 243. INGREDIENTS.--1 carp, salt, stock No. 105, 2 onions, 6 cloves, 12 peppercorns, 1 blade of mace, 1/4 pint of port wine, the juice of 1/2 lemon, cayenne and salt to taste, a faggot of savoury herbs. _Mode_.--Scale the fish, clean it nicely, and, if very large, divide it; lay it in the stewpan, after having rubbed a little salt on it, and put in sufficient stock to cover it; add the herbs, onions, and spices, and stew gently for 1 hour, or rather more, should it be very large. Dish up the fish with great care, strain the liquor, and add to it the port wine, lemon-juice, and cayenne; give one boil, pour it over the fish, and serve. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_. Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Sufficient_ for 1 or 2 persons. _Note_.--This fish can be boiled plain, and served with parsley and butter. Chub and Char may be cooked in the same manner as the above, as also Dace and Roach. THE AGE OF CARP.--This fish has been found to live 150 years. The pond in the garden of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, contained one that had lived there 70 years, and Gesner mentions an instance of one 100 years old. They are, besides, capable of being tamed. Dr. Smith, in his "Tour on the Continent," says, in reference to the prince of Condé's seat at Chantilly, "The most pleasing things about it were the immense shoals of very large carp, silvered over with age, like silver-fish, and perfectly tame; so that, when any passengers approached their watery habitation, they used to come to the shore in such numbers as to heave each other out of the water, begging for bread, of which a quantity was always kept at hand, on purpose to feed them. They would even allow themselves to be handled." [Illustration: THE CHUB.] [Illustration: THE CHAR.] THE CHUB.--This fish takes its name from its head, not only in England, but in other countries. It is a river-fish, and resembles the carp, but is somewhat longer. Its flesh is not in much esteem, being coarse, and, when out of season, full of small hairy bones. The head and throat are the best parts. The roe is also good. THE CHAR.--This is one of the most delicious of fish, being esteemed by some superior to the salmon. It is an inhabitant of the deep lakes of mountainous countries. Its flesh is rich and red, and full of fat. The largest and best kind is found in the lakes of Westmoreland, and, as it is considered a rarity, it is often potted and preserved. THE DACE, OR DARE.--This fish is gregarious, and is seldom above ten inches long; although, according to Linnaeus, it grows a foot and a half in length. Its haunts are in deep water, near piles of bridges, where the stream is gentle, over gravelly, sandy, or clayey bottoms; deep holes that are shaded, water-lily leaves, and under the foam caused by an eddy. In the warm months they are to be found in shoals on the shallows near to streams. They are in season about the end of April, and gradually improve till February, when they attain their highest condition. In that month, when just taken, scotched (crimped), and broiled, they are said to be more palatable than a fresh herring. THE ROACH.--This fish is found throughout Europe, and the western parts of Asia, in deep still rivers, of which it is an inhabitant. It is rarely more than a pound and a half in weight, and is in season from September till March. It is plentiful in England, and the finest are caught in the Thames. The proverb, "as sound as a roach," is derived from the French name of this fish being _roche_, which also means rock. [Illustration: THE DACE.] [Illustration: THE ROACH.] TO DRESS CRAB. 244. INGREDIENTS.--1 crab, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 1 ditto of oil; salt, white pepper, and cayenne, to taste. _Mode_.--Empty the shells, and thoroughly mix the meat with the above ingredients, and put it in the large shell. Garnish with slices of cut lemon and parsley. The quantity of oil may be increased when it is much liked. (See Coloured Plate I.) _Average cost_, from 10d. to 2s. _Seasonable_ all the year; but not so good in May, June, and July. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. TO CHOOSE CRAB.--The middle-sized crab is the best; and the crab, like the lobster, should be judged by its weight; for if light, it is watery. HOT CRAB. 245. INGREDIENTS.--1 crab, nutmeg, salt and pepper to taste, 3 oz. of butter, 1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 3 tablespoonfuls of vinegar. _Mode_.--After having boiled the crab, pick the meat out from the shells, and mix with it the nutmeg and seasoning. Cut up the butter in small pieces, and add the bread crumbs and vinegar. Mix altogether, put the whole in the large shell, and brown before the fire or with a salamander. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, from 10d. to 2s. _Seasonable_ all the year; but not so good in May, June, and July. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. [Illustration: THE CRAB.] THE CRAB TRIBE.--The whole of this tribe of animals have the body covered with a hard and strong shell, and they live chiefly in the sea. Some, however, inhabit fresh waters, and a few live upon land. They feed variously, on aquatic or marine plants, small fish, molluscae, or dead bodies. The _black-clawed_ species is found on the rocky coasts of both Europe and India, and is the same that is introduced to our tables, being much more highly esteemed as a food than many others of the tribe. The most remarkable feature in their history, is the changing of their shells, and the reproduction of their broken claws. The former occurs once a year, usually between Christmas and Easter, when the crabs retire to cavities in the rocks, or conceal themselves under great stones. Fishermen say that they will live confined in a pot or basket for several months together, without any other food than what is collected from the sea-water; and that, even in this situation, they will not decrease in weight. The _hermit_ crab is another of the species, and has the peculiarity of taking possession of the deserted shell of some other animal, as it has none of its own. This circumstance was known to the ancients, and is alluded to in the following lines from Oppian:-- The hermit fish, unarm'd by Nature, left Helpless and weak, grow strong by harmless theft. Fearful they stroll, and look with panting wish For the cast crust of some new-cover'd fish; Or such as empty lie, and deck the shore, Whose first and rightful owners are no more. They make glad seizure of the vacant room, And count the borrow'd shell their native home; Screw their soft limbs to fit the winding case, And boldly herd with the crustaceous race. CRAYFISH. 246. Crayfish should be thrown into boiling water, to which has been added a good seasoning of salt and a little vinegar. When done, which will be in 1/4 hour, take them out and drain them. Let them cool, arrange them on a napkin, and garnish with plenty of double parsley. _Note_.--This fish is frequently used for garnishing boiled turkey, boiled fowl, calf's head, turbot, and all kinds of boiled fish. POTTED CRAYFISH. 247. INGREDIENTS.--100 crayfish; pounded mace, pepper and salt to taste, 2 oz. butter. _Mode_.--Boil the fish in salt and water; pick out all the meat and pound it in a mortar to a paste. Whilst pounding, add the butter gradually, and mix in the spice and seasoning. Put it in small pots, and pour over it clarified butter, carefully excluding the air. _Time_.--15 minutes to boil the crayfish. _Average cost_, 2s. 9d. _Seasonable_ all the year. JOHN DORY. 248. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--This fish, which is esteemed by most people a great delicacy, is dressed in the same way as a turbot, which it resembles in firmness, but not in richness. Cleanse it thoroughly and cut off the fins; lay it in a fish-kettle, cover with cold water, and add salt in the above proportion. Bring it gradually to a boil, and simmer gently for 1/4 hour, or rather longer, should the fish be very large. Serve on a hot napkin, and garnish with cut lemon and parsley. Lobster, anchovy, or shrimp sauce, and plain melted butter, should be sent to table with it. _Time_.--After the water boils, 1/4 to 1/2 hour, according to size. _Average cost_, 3s. to 5s. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from September to January. _Note_.--Small John Dorie are very good, baked. [Illustration: THE JOHN DORY.] THE DORU, or JOHN DORY.--This fish is of a yellowish golden colour, and is, in general, rare, although it is sometimes taken in abundance on the Devon and Cornish coasts. It is highly esteemed for the table, and its flesh, when dressed, is of a beautiful clear white. When fresh caught, it is tough, and, being a ground fish, it is not the worse for being kept two, or even three days before it is cooked. BOILED EELS. 249. INGREDIENTS.--4 small eels, sufficient water to cover them; a large bunch of parsley. _Mode_.--Choose small eels for boiling; put them in a stewpan with the parsley, and just sufficient water to cover them; simmer till tender. Take them out, pour a little parsley and butter over them, and serve some in a tureen. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from June to March. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. [Illustration: THE EEL.] THE EEL TRIBE.--The Apodal, or bony-gilled and ventral-finned fish, of which the eel forms the first Linnaean tribe, in their general aspect and manners, approach, in some instances, very nearly to serpents. They have a smooth head and slippery skin, are in general naked, or covered with such small, soft, and distant scales, as are scarcely visible. Their bodies are long and slender, and they are supposed to subsist entirely on animal substances. There are about nine species of them, mostly found in the seas. One of them frequents our fresh waters, and three of the others occasionally pay a visit to our shores. STEWED EELS. I. 250. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of eels, 1 pint of rich strong stock, No. 104, 1 onion, 3 cloves, a piece of lemon-peel, 1 glass of port or Madeira, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream; thickening of flour; cayenne and lemon-juice to taste. _Mode_.--Wash and skin the eels, and cut them into pieces about 3 inches long; pepper and salt them, and lay them in a stewpan; pour over the stock, add the onion stuck with cloves, the lemon-peel, and the wine. Stew gently for 1/2 hour, or rather more, and lift them carefully on a dish, which keep hot. Strain the gravy, stir to the cream sufficient flour to thicken; mix altogether, boil for 2 minutes, and add the cayenne and lemon-juice; pour over the eels and serve. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 2s. 3d. _Seasonable_ from June to March. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. THE COMMON EEL.--This fish is known frequently to quit its native element, and to set off on a wandering expedition in the night, or just about the close of clay, over the meadows, in search of snails and other prey. It also, sometimes, betakes itself to isolated ponds, apparently for no other pleasure than that which may be supposed to be found in a change of habitation. This, of course, accounts for eels being found in waters which were never suspected to contain them. This rambling disposition in the eel has been long known to naturalists, and, from the following lines, it seems to have been known to the ancients:-- "Thus the mail'd tortoise, and the wand'ring; eel, Oft to the neighbouring beach will silent steal." II. 251. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of middling-sized eels, 1 pint of medium stock, No. 105, 1/4 pint of port wine; salt, cayenne, and mace to taste; 1 teaspoonful of essence of anchovy, the juice of 1/2 a lemon. _Mode_.--Skin, wash, and clean the eels thoroughly; cut them into pieces 3 inches long, and put them into strong salt and water for 1 hour; dry them well with a cloth, and fry them brown. Put the stock on with the heads and tails of the eels, and simmer for 1/2 hour; strain it, and add all the other ingredients. Put in the eels, and stew gently for 1/2 hour, when serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Seasonable_ from June to March. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. FRIED EELS. 252. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of eels, 1 egg, a few bread crumbs, hot lard. _Mode_.--Wash the eels, cut them into pieces 3 inches long, trim and wipe them very dry; dredge with flour, rub them over with egg, and cover with bread crumbs; fry of a nice brown in hot lard. If the eels are small, curl them round, instead of cutting them up. Garnish with fried parsley. _Time_.--20 minutes, or rather less. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from June to March. _Note_.--Garfish may be dressed like eels, and either broiled or baked. THE PRODUCTIVENESS OF THE EEL.--"Having occasion," says Dr. Anderson, in the _Bee_, "to be once on a visit to a friend's house on Dee-side, in Aberdeenshire, I frequently delighted to walk by the banks of the river. I, one day, observed something like a black string moving along the edge of the water where it was quite shallow. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that this was a shoal of young eels, so closely joined together as to appear, on a superficial view, on continued body, moving briskly up against the stream. To avoid the retardment they experienced from the force of the current, they kept close along the water's edge the whole of the way, following all the bendings and sinuosities of the river. Where they were embayed, and in still water, the shoal dilated in breadth, so as to be sometimes nearly a foot broad; but when they turned a cape, where the current was strong, they were forced to occupy less space and press close to the shore, struggling very hard till they passed it. This shoal continued to move on, night and day without interruption for several weeks. Their progress might be at the rate of about a mile an hour. It was easy to catch the animals, though they were very active and nimble. They were eels perfectly well formed in every respect, but not exceeding two inches in length. I conceive that the shoal did not contain, on an average, less than from twelve to twenty in breadth; so that the number that passed, on the whole, must have been very great. Whence they came or whither they went, I know not; but the place where I saw this, was six miles from the sea." EEL PIE. 253. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of eels, a little chopped parsley, 1 shalot; grated nutmeg; pepper and salt to taste; the juice of 1/2 a lemon, small quantity of forcemeat, 1/4 pint of béchamel (see Sauces); puff paste. _Mode_.--Skin and wash the eels, cut them into pieces 2 inches long, and line the bottom of the pie-dish with forcemeat. Put in the eels, and sprinkle them with the parsley, shalots, nutmeg, seasoning, and lemon-juice, and cover with puff-paste. Bake for 1 hour, or rather more; make the béchamel hot, and pour it into the pie. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Seasonable_ from August to March. COLLARED EEL. 254. INGREDIENTS.--1 large eel; pepper and salt to taste; 2 blades of mace, 2 cloves, a little allspice very finely pounded, 6 leaves of sage, and a small bunch of herbs minced very small. _Mode_.--Bone the eel and skin it; split it, and sprinkle it over with the ingredients, taking care that the spices are very finely pounded, and the herbs chopped very small. Roll it up and bind with a broad piece of tape, and boil it in water, mixed with a little salt and vinegar, till tender. It may either be served whole or cut in slices; and when cold, the eel should be kept in the liquor it was boiled in, but with a little more vinegar put to it. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from August to March. HAUNTS OF THE EEL.--These are usually in mud, among weeds, under roots or stumps of trees, or in holes in the banks or the bottoms of rivers. Here they often grow to an enormous size, sometimes weighing as much as fifteen or sixteen pounds. They seldom come forth from their hiding-places except in the night; and, in winter, bury themselves deep in the mud, on account of their great susceptibility of cold. EELS A LA TARTARE. 255. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of eels, 1 carrot, 1 onion, a little flour, 1 glass of sherry; salt, pepper, and nutmeg to taste; bread crumbs, 1 egg, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar. _Mode_.--Rub the butter on the bottom of the stewpan; cut up the carrot and onion, and stir them over the fire for 5 minutes; dredge in a little flour, add the wine and seasoning, and boil for 1/2 an hour. Skin and wash the eels, cut them into pieces, put them to the other ingredients, and simmer till tender. When they are done, take them out, let them get cold, cover them with egg and bread crumbs, and fry them of a nice brown. Put them on a dish, pour sauce piquante over, and serve them hot. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d., exclusive of the sauce piquante. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. VORACITY OF THE EEL.--We find in a note upon Isaac Walton, by Sir John Hawkins, that he knew of eels, when kept in ponds, frequently destroying ducks. From a canal near his house at Twickenham he himself missed many young ducks; and on draining, in order to clean it, great numbers of large eels were caught in the mud. When some of these were opened, there were found in their stomachs the undigested heads of the quacking tribe which had become their victims. EELS EN MATELOTE. 256. INGREDIENTS.--5 or 6 young onions, a few mushrooms, when obtainable; salt, pepper, and nutmeg to taste; 1 laurel-leaf, 1/2 pint of port wine, 1/2 pint of medium stock, No. 105; butter and flour to thicken; 2 lbs. of eels. _Mode_.--Rub the stewpan with butter, dredge in a little flour, add the onions cut very small, slightly brown them, and put in all the other ingredients. Wash, and cut up the eels into pieces 3 inches long; put them in the stewpan, and simmer for 1/2 hour. Make round the dish, a border of croutons, or pieces of toasted bread; arrange the eels in a pyramid in the centre, and pour over the sauce. Serve very hot. _Time_.--3/4 hour. Average cost, 1s. 9d. for this quantity. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. TENACITY OF LIFE IN THE EEL.--There is no fish so tenacious of life as this. After it is skinned and cut in pieces, the parts will continue to move for a considerable time, and no fish will live so long out of water. [Illustration: THE LAMPREY.] THE LAMPREY.--With the Romans, this fish occupied a respectable rank among the piscine tribes, and in Britain it has at various periods stood high in public favour. It was the cause of the death of Henry I. of England, who ate so much of them, that it brought on an attack of indigestion, which carried him off. It is an inhabitant of the sea, ascending rivers, principally about the end of winter, and, after passing a few months in fresh water, returning again to its oceanic residence. It is most in season in March, April, and May, but is, by some, regarded as an unwholesome food, although looked on by others as a great delicacy. They are dressed as eels. FISH AND OYSTER PIE. 257. INGREDIENTS.--Any remains of cold fish, such as cod or haddock; 2 dozen oysters, pepper and salt to taste, bread crumbs sufficient for the quantity of fish; 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1 teaspoonful of finely-chopped parsley. _Mode_.--Clear the fish from the bones, and put a layer of it in a pie-dish, which sprinkle with pepper and salt; then a layer of bread crumbs, oysters, nutmeg, and chopped parsley. Repeat this till the dish is quite full. You may form a covering either of bread crumbs, which should be browned, or puff-paste, which should be cut into long strips, and laid in cross-bars over the fish, with a line of the paste first laid round the edge. Before putting on the top, pour in some made melted butter, or a little thin white sauce, and the oyster-liquor, and bake. _Time_.--If made of cooked fish, 1/4 hour; if made of fresh fish and puff-paste, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Note_.--A nice little dish may be made by flaking any cold fish, adding a few oysters, seasoning with pepper and salt, and covering with mashed potatoes; 1/4 hour will bake it. FISH CAKE. 258. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of any cold fish, 1 onion, 1 faggot of sweet herbs; salt and pepper to taste, 1 pint of water, equal quantities of bread crumbs and cold potatoes, 1/2 teaspoonful of parsley, 1 egg, bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Pick the meat from the bones of the fish, which latter put, with the head and fins, into a stewpan with the water; add pepper and salt, the onion and herbs, and stew slowly for gravy about 2 hours; chop the fish fine, and mix it well with bread crumbs and cold potatoes, adding the parsley and seasoning; make the whole into a cake with the white of an egg, brush it over with egg, cover with bread crumbs, and fry of a light brown; strain the gravy, pour it over, and stew gently for 1/4 hour, stirring it carefully once or twice. Serve hot, and garnish with slices of lemon and parsley. _Time_--1/2 hour, after the gravy is made. BOILED FLOUNDERS. 259. INGREDIENTS.--Sufficient water to cover the flounders, salt in the proportion of 6 oz. to each gallon, a little vinegar. _Mode_.--Pat on a kettle with enough water to cover the flounders, lay in the fish, add salt and vinegar in the above proportions, and when it boils, simmer very gently for 5 minutes. They must not boil fast, or they will break. Serve with plain melted butter, or parsley and butter. _Time_.--After the water boils, 5 minutes. _Average cost_, 3d. each. _Seasonable_ from August to November. [Illustration: FLOUNDERS.] THE FLOUNDER.--This comes under the tribe usually denominated Flat-fish, and is generally held in the smallest estimation of any among them. It is an inhabitant of both the seas and the rivers, while it thrives in ponds. On the English coasts it is very abundant, and the London market consumes it in large quantities. It is considered easy of digestion, and the Thames flounder is esteemed a delicate fish. FRIED FLOUNDERS. 260. INGREDIENTS.--Flounders, egg, and bread crumbs; boiling lard. _Mode_.--Cleanse the fish, and, two hours before they are wanted, rub them inside and out with salt, to render them firm; wash and wipe them very dry, dip them into egg, and sprinkle over with bread crumbs; fry them in boiling lard, dish on a hot napkin, and garnish with crisped parsley. _Time_.--From 5 to 10 minutes, according to size. _Average cost_, 3d. each. _Seasonable_ from August to November. _Sufficient_, 1 for each person. GUDGEONS. 261. INGREDIENTS.--Egg and bread crumbs sufficient for the quantity of fish; hot lard. _Mode_.--Do not scrape off the scales, but take out the gills and inside, and cleanse thoroughly; wipe them dry, flour and dip them into egg, and sprinkle over with bread crumbs. Fry of a nice brown. _Time_.--3 or 4 minutes. _Average cost_. Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from March to July. _Sufficient_, 3 for each person. [Illustration: THE GUDGEON.] THE GUDGEON.--This is a fresh-water fish, belonging to the carp genus, and is found in placid streams and lakes. It was highly esteemed by the Greeks, and was, at the beginning of supper, served fried at Rome. It abounds both in France and Germany; and is both excellent and numerous in some of the rivers of England. Its flesh is firm, well-flavoured, and easily digested. GURNET, or GURNARD. 262. INGREDIENTS.--1 gurnet, 6 oz. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Cleanse the fish thoroughly, and cut off the fins; have ready some boiling water, with salt in the above proportion; put the fish in, and simmer very gently for 1/2 hour. Parsley and butter, or anchovy sauce, should be served with it. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_. Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from October to March, but in perfection in October. _Sufficient_, a middling sized one for 2 persons. _Note_.--This fish is frequently stuffed with forcemeat and baked. [Illustration: THE GURNET.] THE GURNET.-"If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a souced gurnet," says Falstaff; which shows that this fish has been long known in England. It is very common on the British coasts, and is an excellent fish as food. BAKED HADDOCKS. 263. INGREDIENTS.--A nice forcemeat (_see_ Forcemeats), butter to taste, egg and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Scale and clean the fish, without cutting it open much; put in a nice delicate forcemeat, and sew up the slit. Brush it over with egg, sprinkle over bread crumbs, and baste frequently with butter. Garnish with parsley and cut lemon, and serve with a nice brown gravy, plain melted butter, or anchovy sauce. The egg and bread crumbs can be omitted, and pieces of butter placed over the fish. _Time_.--Large haddock, 3/4 hour; moderate size, 1/4 hour. _Seasonable_ from August to February. _Average cost_, from 9d. upwards. _Note_.--Haddocks may be filleted, rubbed over with egg and bread crumbs, and fried a nice brown; garnish with crisped parsley. [Illustration: THE HADDOCK.] THE HADDOCK.--This fish migrates in immense shoals, and arrives on the Yorkshire coast about the middle of winter. It is an inhabitant of the northern seas of Europe, but does not enter the Baltic, and is not known in the Mediterranean. On each side of the body, just beyond the gills, it has a dark spot, which superstition asserts to be the impressions of the finger and thumb of St. Peter, when taking the tribute money out of a fish of this species. BOILED HADDOCK. 264. INGREDIENTS.--Sufficient water to cover the fish; 1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Scrape the fish, take out the inside, wash it thoroughly, and lay it in a kettle, with enough water to cover it and salt in the above proportion. Simmer gently from 15 to 20 minutes, or rather more, should the fish be very large. For small haddocks, fasten the tails in their mouths, and put them into boiling water. 10 to 15 minutes will cook them. Serve with plain melted butter, or anchovy sauce. _Time_.--Large haddock, 1/2 hour; small, 1/4 hour, or rather less. _Average cost_, from 9d. upwards. _Seasonable_ from August to February. WEIGHT OF THE HADDOCK.--The haddock seldom grows to any great size. In general, they do not weigh more than two or three pounds, or exceed ten or twelve inches in size. Such are esteemed very delicate eating; but they have been caught three feet long, when their flesh is coarse. DRIED HADDOCK. I. 265. Dried haddock should be gradually warmed through, either before or over a nice clear fire. Hub a little piece of butter over, just before sending it to table. II. 266. INGREDIENTS.--1 large thick haddock, 2 bay-leaves, 1 small bunch of savoury herbs, not forgetting parsley, a little butter and pepper; boiling water. _Mode_.--Cut up the haddock into square pieces, make a basin hot by means of hot water, which pour out. Lay in the fish, with the bay-leaves and herbs; cover with boiling water; put a plate over to keep in the steam, and let it remain for 10 minutes. Take out the slices, put them in a hot dish, rub over with butter and pepper, and serve. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Seasonable_ at any time, but best in winter. THE FINNAN HADDOCK.--This is the common haddock cured and dried, and takes its name from the fishing-village of Findhorn, near Aberdeen, in Scotland, where the art has long attained to perfection. The haddocks are there hung up for a day or two in the smoke of peat, when they are ready for cooking, and are esteemed, by the Scotch, a great delicacy. In London, an imitation of them is made by washing the fish over with pyroligneous acid, and hanging it up in a dry place for a few days. RED HERRINGS, or YARMOUTH BLOATERS. 267. The best way to cook these is to make incisions in the skin across the fish, because they do not then require to be so long on the fire, and will be far better than when cut open. The hard roe makes a nice relish by pounding it in a mortar, with a little anchovy, and spreading it on toast. If very dry, soak in warm water 1 hour before dressing. THE RED HERRING.--_Red_ herrings lie twenty-four hours in the brine, when they are taken out and hung up in a smoking-house formed to receive them. A brushwood fire is then kindled beneath them, and when they are sufficiently smoked and dried, they are put into barrels for carriage. BAKED WHITE HERRINGS. 268. INGREDIENTS.--12 herrings, 4 bay-leaves, 12 cloves, 12 allspice, 2 small blades of mace, cayenne pepper and salt to taste, sufficient vinegar to fill up the dish. _Mode_.--Take the herrings, cut off the heads, and gut them. Put them in a pie-dish, heads and tails alternately, and, between each layer, sprinkle over the above ingredients. Cover the fish with the vinegar, and bake for 1/2 hour, but do not use it till quite cold. The herrings may be cut down the front, the backbone taken out, and closed again. Sprats done in this way are very delicious. _Time_.--1/2 an hour. _Average cost_, 1d. each. TO CHOOSE THE HERRING.--The more scales this fish has, the surer the sign of its freshness. It should also have a bright and silvery look; but if red about the head, it is a sign that it has been dead for some time. [Illustration: THE HERRING.] THE HERRING.--The herring tribe are found in the greatest abundance in the highest northern latitudes, where they find a quiet retreat, and security from their numerous enemies. Here they multiply beyond expression, and, in shoals, come forth from their icy region to visit other portions of the great deep. In June they are found about Shetland, whence they proceed down to the Orkneys, where they divide, and surround the islands of Great Britain and Ireland. The principal British herring-fisheries are off the Scotch and Norfolk coasts; and the fishing is always carried on by means of nets, which are usually laid at night; for, if stretched by day, they are supposed to frighten the fish away. The moment the herring is taken out of the water it dies. Hence the origin of the common saying, "dead as a herring." KEGEREE. 269. INGREDIENTS.--Any cold fish, 1 teacupful of boiled rice, 1 oz. of butter, 1 teaspoonful of mustard, 2 soft-boiled eggs, salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Pick the fish carefully from the bones, mix with the other ingredients, and serve very hot. The quantities may be varied according to the amount of fish used. _Time_.--1/4 hour after the rice is boiled. _Average cost_, 5d., exclusive of the fish. TO BOIL LOBSTERS. 270. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Buy the lobsters alive, and choose those that are heavy and full of motion, which is an indication of their freshness. When the shell is incrusted, it is a sign they are old: medium-sized lobsters are the best. Have ready a stewpan of boiling water, salted in the above proportion; put in the lobster, and keep it boiling quickly from 20 minutes to 3/4 hour, according to its size, and do not forget to skim well. If it boils too long, the meat becomes thready, and if not done enough, the spawn is not red: this must be obviated by great attention. Hub the shell over with a little butter or sweet oil, which wipe off again. _Time_.--Small lobster, 20 minutes to 1/2 hour; large ditto, 1/2 to 1/3 hour. _Average cost_, medium size, 1s. 6d. to 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from March to October. TO CHOOSE LOBSTERS.--This shell-fish, if it has been cooked alive, as it ought to have been, will have a stiffness in the tail, which, if gently raised, will return with a spring. Care, however, must be taken in thus proving it; for if the tail is pulled straight out, it will not return; when the fish might be pronounced inferior, which, in reality, may not be the case. In order to be good, lobsters should be weighty for their bulk; if light, they will be watery; and those of the medium size, are always the best. Small-sized lobsters are cheapest, and answer very well for sauce. In boiling lobsters, the appearance of the shell will be much improved by rubbing over it a little butter or salad-oil on being immediately taken from the pot. [Illustration: THE LOBSTER.] THE LOBSTER.--This is one of the crab tribe, and is found on most of the rocky coasts of Great Britain. Some are caught with the hand, but the larger number in pots, which serve all the purposes of a trap, being made of osiers, and baited with garbage. They are shaped like a wire mousetrap; so that when the lobsters once enter them, they cannot get out again. They are fastened to a cord and sunk in the sea, and their place marked by a buoy. The fish is very prolific, and deposits of its eggs in the sand, where they are soon hatched. On the coast of Norway, they are very abundant, and it is from there that the English metropolis is mostly supplied. They are rather indigestible, and, as a food, not so nurtritive as they are generally supposed to be. HOT LOBSTER. 271. INGREDIENTS.--1 lobster, 2 oz. of butter, grated nutmeg; salt, pepper, and pounded mace, to taste; bread crumbs, 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Pound the meat of the lobster to a smooth paste with the butter and seasoning, and add a few bread crumbs. Beat the eggs, and make the whole mixture into the form of a lobster; pound the spawn, and sprinkle over it. Bake 1/4 hour, and just before serving, lay over it the tail and body shell, with the small claws underneath, to resemble a lobster. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. LOBSTER SALAD. 272. INGREDIENTS.--1 hen lobster, lettuces, endive, small salad (whatever is in season), a little chopped beetroot, 2 hard-boiled eggs, a few slices of cucumber. For dressing, equal quantities of oil and vinegar, 1 teaspoonful of made mustard, the yolks of 2 eggs; cayenne and salt to taste; 3 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce. These ingredients should be mixed perfectly smooth, and form a creamy-looking sauce. _Mode_.--Wash the salad, and thoroughly dry it by shaking it in a cloth. Cut up the lettuces and endive, pour the dressing on them, and lightly throw in the small salad. Mix all well together with the pickings from the body of the lobster; pick the meat from the shell, cut it up into nice square pieces, put half in the salad, the other half reserve for garnishing. Separate the yolks from the whites of 2 hard-boiled eggs; chop the whites very fine, and rub the yolks through a sieve, and afterwards the coral from the inside. Arrange the salad lightly on a glass dish, and garnish, first with a row of sliced cucumber, then with the pieces of lobster, the yolks and whites of the eggs, coral, and beetroot placed alternately, and arranged in small separate bunches, so that the colours contrast nicely. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from April to October; may be had all the year, but salad is scarce and expensive in winter. _Note_.--A few crayfish make a pretty garnishing to lobster salad. THE SHELL OF THE LOBSTER.--Like the others of its tribe, the lobster annually casts its shell. Previously to its throwing off the old one, it appears sick, languid, and restless, but in the course of a few days it is entirely invested in its new coat of armour. Whilst it is in a defenceless state, however, it seeks some lonely place, where it may lie undisturbed, and escape the horrid fate of being devoured by some of its own species who have the advantage of still being encased in their mail. LOBSTER (a la Mode Francaise). 273. INGREDIENTS.--1 lobster, 4 tablespoonfuls of white stock, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream, pounded mace, and cayenne to taste; bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Pick the meat from the shell, and cut it up into small square pieces; put the stock, cream, and seasoning into a stewpan, add the lobster, and let it simmer gently for 6 minutes. Serve it in the shell, which must be nicely cleaned, and have a border of puff-paste; cover it with bread crumbs, place small pieces of butter over, and brown before the fire, or with a salamander. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. CELERITY OF THE LOBSTER.--In its element, the lobster is able to run with great speed upon its legs, or small claws, and, if alarmed, to spring, tail foremost, to a considerable distance, "even," it is said, "with the swiftness of a bird flying." Fishermen have seen some of them pass about thirty feet with a wonderful degree of swiftness. When frightened, they will take their spring, and, like a chamois of the Alps, plant themselves upon the very spot upon which they designed to hold themselves. LOBSTER CURRY (an Entree). 274. INGREDIENTS.--1 lobster, 2 onions, 1 oz. butter, 1 tablespoonful of curry-powder, 1/2 pint of medium stock, No. 105, the juice of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Pick the meat from the shell, and cut it into nice square pieces; fry the onions of a pale brown in the butter, stir in the curry-powder and stock, and simmer till it thickens, when put in the lobster; stew the whole slowly for 1/2 hour, and stir occasionally; and just before sending to table, put in the lemon-juice. Serve boiled rice with it, the same as for other curries. _Time_.--Altogether, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 3s. _Seasonable_ at any time. LOBSTER CUTLETS (an Entree). 275. INGREDIENTS.--1 large hen lobster, 1 oz. fresh butter, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, pounded mace, grated nutmeg, cayenne and white pepper to taste, egg, and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Pick the meat from the shell, and pound it in a mortar with the butter, and gradually add the mace and seasoning, well mixing the ingredients; beat all to a smooth paste, and add a little of the spawn; divide the mixture into pieces of an equal size, and shape them like cutlets. They should not be very thick. Brush them over with egg, and sprinkle with bread crumbs, and stick a short piece of the small claw in the top of each; fry them of a nice brown in boiling lard, and drain them before the fire, on a sieve reversed; arrange them nicely on a dish, and pour béchamel in the middle, but not over the cutlets. _Time_.--About 8 minutes after the cutlets are made. _Average cost_ for this dish, 2s. 9d. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. ANCIENT MODE OF COOKING THE LOBSTER.--When this fish was to be served for the table, among the ancients, it was opened lengthwise, and filled with a gravy composed of coriander and pepper. It was then put on the gridiron and slowly cooked, whilst it was being basted with the same kind of gravy with which the flesh had become impregnated. TO DRESS LOBSTERS. 276. When the lobster is boiled, rub it over with a little salad-oil, which wipe off again; separate the body from the tail, break off the great claws, and crack them at the joints, without injuring the meat; split the tail in halves, and arrange all neatly in a dish, with the body upright in the middle, and garnish with parsley. (_See_ Coloured Plate, H.) LOBSTER PATTIES (an Entree). 277. INGREDIENTS.--Minced lobster, 4 tablespoonfuls of béchamel, 6 drops of anchovy sauce, lemon-juice, cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Line the patty-pans with puff-paste, and put into each a small piece of bread: cover with paste, brush over with egg, and bake of a light colour. Take as much lobster as is required, mince the meat very fine, and add the above ingredients; stir it over the fire for 6 minutes; remove the lids of the patty-cases, take out the bread, fill with the mixture, and replace the covers. _Seasonable_ at any time. LOCAL ATTACHMENT OF THE LOBSTER.--It is said that the attachment of this animal is strong to some particular parts of the sea, a circumstance celebrated in the following lines:-- "Nought like their home the constant lobsters prize, And foreign shores and seas unknown despise. Though cruel hands the banish'd wretch expel, And force the captive from his native cell, He will, if freed, return with anxious care, Find the known rock, and to his home repair; No novel customs learns in different seas, But wonted food and home-taught manners please." POTTED LOBSTER. 278. INGREDIENTS.--2 lobsters; seasoning to taste, of nutmeg, pounded mace, white pepper, and salt; 1/4 lb. of butter, 3 or 4 bay-leaves. _Mode_.--Take out the meat carefully from the shell, but do not cut it up. Put some butter at the bottom of a dish, lay in the lobster as evenly as possible, with the bay-leaves and seasoning between. Cover with butter, and bake for 3/4 hour in a gentle oven. When done, drain the whole on a sieve, and lay the pieces in potting-jars, with the seasoning about them. When cold, pour over it clarified butter, and, if very highly seasoned, it will keep some time. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 4s. 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Potted lobster may be used cold, or as _fricassee_ with cream sauce. How the Lobster Feeds.--The pincers of the lobster's large claws are furnished with nobs, and those of the other, are always serrated. With the former, it keeps firm hold of the stalks of submarine plants, and with the latter, it cuts and minces its food with great dexterity. The knobbed, or numb claw, as it is called by fishermen, is sometimes on the right and sometimes on the left, indifferently. BAKED MACKEREL. 279. INGREDIENTS.--4 middling-sized mackerel, a nice delicate forcemeat (_see_ Forcemeats), 3 oz. of butter; pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Clean the fish, take out the roes, and fill up with forcemeat, and sew up the slit. Flour, and put them in a dish, heads and tails alternately, with the roes; and, between each layer, put some little pieces of butter, and pepper and salt. Bake for 1/2 an hour, and either serve with plain melted butter or a _maître d'hôtel_ sauce. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 10d. _Seasonable_ from April to July. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Note_.--Baked mackerel may be dressed in the same way as baked herrings (_see_ No. 268), and may also be stewed in wine. WEIGHT OF THE MACKEREL.--The greatest weight of this fish seldom exceeds 2 lbs., whilst their ordinary length runs between 14 and 20 inches. They die almost immediately after they are taken from their element, and, for a short time, exhibit a phosphoric light. BOILED MACKEREL. 280. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Cleanse the inside of the fish thoroughly, and lay it in the kettle with sufficient water to cover it with salt as above; bring it gradually to boil, skim well, and simmer gently till done; dish them on a hot napkin, heads and tails alternately, and garnish with fennel. Fennel sauce and plain melted butter are the usual accompaniments to boiled mackerel; but caper or anchovy sauce is sometimes served with it. (_See_ Coloured Plate, F.) _Time_.--After the water boils, 10 minutes; for large mackerel, allow more time. _Average cost_, from 4d. _Seasonable_ from April to July. _Note_.--When variety is desired, fillet the mackerel, boil it, and pour over parsley and butter; send some of this, besides, in a tureen. BROILED MACKEREL. 281. INGREDIENTS.--Pepper and salt to taste, a small quantity of oil. _Mode_.--Mackerel should never be washed when intended to be broiled, but merely wiped very clean and dry, after taking out the gills and insides. Open the back, and put in a little pepper, salt, and oil; broil it over a clear fire, turn it over on both sides, and also on the back. When sufficiently cooked, the flesh can be detached from the bone, which will be in about 15 minutes for a small mackerel. Chop a little parsley, work it up in the butter, with pepper and salt to taste, and a squeeze of lemon-juice, and put it in the back. Serve before the butter is quite melted, with a _maître d'hôtel_ sauce in a tureen. _Time_.--Small mackerel 15 minutes. _Average cost_, from 4d. _Seasonable_ from April to July. [Illustration: THE MACKEREL.] THE MACKEREL.--This is not only one of the most elegantly-formed, but one of the most beautifully-coloured fishes, when taken out of the sea, that we have. Death, in some degree, impairs the vivid splendour of its colours; but it does not entirely obliterate them. It visits the shores of Great Britain in countless shoals, appearing about March, off the Land's End; in the bays of Devonshire, about April; off Brighton in the beginning of May; and on the coast of Suffolk about the beginning of June. In the Orkneys they are seen till August; but the greatest fishery is on the west coasts of England. TO CHOOSE MACKEREL.--In choosing this fish, purchasers should, to a great extent, be regulated by the brightness of its appearance. If it have a transparent, silvery hue, the flesh is good; but if it be red about the head, it is stale. FILLETS OF MACKEREL. 282. INGREDIENTS.--2 large mackerel, 1 oz. butter, 1 small bunch of chopped herbs, 3 tablespoonfuls of medium stock, No. 105, 3 tablespoonfuls of béchamel (_see_ Sauces); salt, cayenne, and lemon-juice to taste. _Mode_.--Clean the fish, and fillet it; scald the herbs, chop them fine, and put them with the butter and stock into a stewpan. Lay in the mackerel, and simmer very gently for 10 minutes; take them out, and put them on a hot dish. Dredge in a little flour, add the other ingredients, give one boil, and pour it over the mackerel. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ from April to July. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Note_.--Fillets of mackerel may be covered with egg and bread crumbs, and fried of a nice brown. Serve with _maître d'hôtel_ sauce and plain melted butter. THE VORACITY OF THE MACKEREL.--The voracity of this fish is very great, and, from their immense numbers, they are bold in attacking objects of which they might, otherwise, be expected to have a wholesome dread. Pontoppidan relates an anecdote of a sailor belonging to a ship lying in one of the harbours on the coast of Norway, who, having gone into the sea to bathe, was suddenly missed by his companions; in the course of a few minutes, however, he was seen on the surface, with great numbers of mackerel clinging to him by their mouths. His comrades hastened in a boat to his assistance; but when they had struck the fishes from him and got him up, they found he was so severely bitten, that he shortly afterward expired. PICKLED MACKEREL. 283. INGREDIENTS.--12 peppercorns, 2 bay-leaves, 1/2 pint of vinegar, 4 mackerel. _Mode_.--Boil the mackerel as in the recipe No. 282, and lay them in a dish; take half the liquor they were boiled in; add as much vinegar, peppercorns, and bay-leaves; boil for 10 minutes, and when cold, pour over the fish. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. MACKEREL GARUM.--This brine, so greatly esteemed by the ancients, was manufactured from various kinds of fishes. When mackerel was employed, a few of them were placed in a small vase, with a large quantity of salt, which was well stirred, and then left to settle for some hours. On the following day, this was put into an earthen pot, which was uncovered, and placed in a situation to get the rays of the sun. At the end of two or three months, it was hermetically sealed, after having had added to it a quantity of old wine, equal to one third of the mixture. GREY MULLET. 284. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--If the fish be very large, it should be laid in cold water, and gradually brought to a boil; if small, put it in boiling water, salted in the above proportion. Serve with anchovy sauce and plain melted butter. _Time_.--According to size, 1/4 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 8d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from July to October. [Illustration: THE GREY MULLET.] THE GREY MULLET.--This is quite a different fish from the red mullet, is abundant on the sandy coasts of Great Britain, and ascends rivers for miles. On the south coast it is very plentiful, and is considered a fine fish. It improves more than any other salt-water fish when kept in ponds. RED MULLET. 285. INGREDIENTS.--Oiled paper, thickening of butter and flour, 1/2 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce, 1 glass of sherry; cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Clean the fish, take out the gills, but leave the inside, fold in oiled paper, and bake them gently. When done, take the liquor that flows from the fish, add a thickening of butter kneaded with flour; put in the other ingredients, and let it boil for 2 minutes. Serve the sauce in a tureen, and the fish, either with or without the paper cases. _Time_.--About 25 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. each. _Seasonable_ at any time, but more plentiful in summer. _Note_.--Red mullet may be broiled, and should be folded in oiled paper, the same as in the preceding recipe, and seasoned with pepper and salt. They may be served without sauce; but if any is required, use melted _butter_, Italian or anchovy sauce. They should never be plain boiled. [Illustration: THE STRIPED RED MULLET.] THE STRIPED RED MULLET.--This fish was very highly esteemed by the ancients, especially by the Romans, who gave the most extravagant prices for it. Those of 2 lbs. weight were valued at about £15 each; those of 4 lbs. at £60, and, in the reign of Tiberius, three of them were sold for £209. To witness the changing loveliness of their colour during their dying agonies, was one of the principal reasons that such a high price was paid for one of these fishes. It frequents our Cornish and Sussex coasts, and is in high request, the flesh being firm, white, and well flavoured. FRIED OYSTERS. 286. INGREDIENTS.--3 dozen oysters, 2 oz. butter, 1 tablespoonful of ketchup, a little chopped lemon-peel, 1/2 teaspoonful of chopped parsley. _Mode_.--Boil the oysters for 1 minute in their own liquor, and drain them; fry them with the butter, ketchup, lemon-peel, and parsley; lay them on a dish, and garnish with fried potatoes, toasted sippets, and parsley. This is a delicious delicacy, and is a favourite Italian dish. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 9d. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. [Illustration: THE EDIBLE OYSTER.] THE EDIBLE OYSTER:--This shell-fish is almost universally distributed near the shores of seas in all latitudes, and they especially abound on the coasts of France and Britain. The coasts most celebrated, in England, for them, are those of Essex and Suffolk. Here they are dredged up by means of a net with an iron scraper at the mouth, that is dragged by a rope from a boat over the beds. As soon as taken from their native beds, they are stored in pits, formed for the purpose, furnished with sluices, through which, at the spring tides, the water is suffered to flow. This water, being stagnant, soon becomes green in warm weather; and, in a few days afterwards, the oysters acquire the same tinge, which increases their value in the market. They do not, however, attain their perfection and become fit for sale till the end of six or eight weeks. Oysters are not considered proper for the table till they are about a year and a half old; so that the brood of one spring are not to be taken for sale, till, at least, the September twelvemonth afterwards. SCALLOPED OYSTERS. I. 287. INGREDIENTS.--Oysters, say 1 pint, 1 oz. butter, flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of white stock, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream; pepper and salt to taste; bread crumbs, oiled butter. _Mode_.--Scald the oysters in their own liquor, take them out, beard them, and strain the liquor free from grit. Put 1 oz. of batter into a stewpan; when melted, dredge in sufficient flour to dry it up; add the stock, cream, and strained liquor, and give one boil. Put in the oysters and seasoning; let them gradually heat through, but not boil. Have ready the scallop-shells buttered; lay in the oysters, and as much of the liquid as they will hold; cover them over with bread crumbs, over which drop a little oiled butter. Brown them in the oven, or before the fire, and serve quickly, and very hot. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/4 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. II. Prepare the oysters as in the preceding recipe, and put them in a scallop-shell or saucer, and between each layer sprinkle over a few bread crumbs, pepper, salt, and grated nutmeg; place small pieces of butter over, and bake before the fire in a Dutch oven. Put sufficient bread crumbs on the top to make a smooth surface, as the oysters should not be seen. _Time_.--About 1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 3s. 2d. _Seasonable_ from September to April. STEWED OYSTERS. 288. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of oysters, 1 oz. of butter, flour, 1/3 pint of cream; cayenne and salt to taste; 1 blade of pounded mace. _Mode_.--Scald the oysters in their own liquor, take them out, beard them, and strain the liquor; put the butter into a stewpan, dredge in sufficient flour to dry it up, add the oyster-liquor and mace, and stir it over a sharp fire with a wooden spoon; when it comes to a boil, add the cream, oysters, and seasoning. Let all simmer for 1 or 2 minutes, but not longer, or the oysters would harden. Serve on a hot dish, and garnish with croutons, or toasted sippets of bread. A small piece of lemon-peel boiled with the oyster-liquor, and taken out before the cream is added, will be found an improvement. _Time_.--Altogether 15 minutes. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 3s. 6d. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. THE OYSTER AND THE SCALLOP.--The oyster is described as a bivalve shell-fish, having the valves generally unequal. The hinge is without teeth, but furnished with a somewhat oval cavity, and mostly with lateral transverse grooves. From a similarity in the structure of the hinge, oysters and scallops have been classified as one tribe; but they differ very essentially both in their external appearance and their habits. Oysters adhere to rocks, or, as in two or three species, to roots of trees on the shore; while the scallops are always detached, and usually lurk in the sand. OYSTER PATTIES (an Entree). 289. INGREDIENTS.--2 dozen oysters, 2 oz. butter, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream, a little lemon-juice, 1 blade of pounded mace; cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Scald the oysters in their own liquor, beard them, and cut each one into 3 pieces. Put the butter into a stewpan, dredge in sufficient flour to dry it up; add the strained oyster-liquor with the other ingredients; put in the oysters, and let them heat gradually, but not boil fast. Make the patty-cases as directed for lobster patties, No. 277: fill with the oyster mixture, and replace the covers. _Time_.--2 minutes for the oysters to simmer in the mixture. _Average cost_, exclusive of the patty-cases, 1s. 1d. _Seasonable_ from September to April. THE OYSTER FISHERY.--The oyster fishery in Britain is esteemed of so much importance, that it is regulated by a Court of Admiralty. In the month of May, the fishermen are allowed to take the oysters, in order to separate the spawn from the cultch, the latter of which is thrown in again, to preserve the bed for the future. After this month, it is felony to carry away the cultch, and otherwise punishable to take any oyster, between the shells of which, when closed, a shilling will rattle. TO KEEP OYSTERS. 290. Put them in a tub, and cover them with salt and water. Let them remain for 12 hours, when they are to be taken out, and allowed to stand for another 12 hours without water. If left without water every alternate 12 hours, they will be much better than if constantly kept in it. Never put the same water twice to them. OYSTERS FRIED IN BATTER. 291. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of oysters, 2 eggs, 1/2 pint of milk, sufficient flour to make the batter; pepper and salt to taste; when liked, a little nutmeg; hot lard. _Mode_.--Scald the oysters in their own liquor, beard them, and lay them on a cloth, to drain thoroughly. Break the eggs into a basin, mix the flour with them, add the milk gradually, with nutmeg and seasoning, and put the oysters in the batter. Make some lard hot in a deep frying-pan, put in the oysters, one at a time; when done, take them up with a sharp-pointed skewer, and dish them on a napkin. Fried oysters are frequently used for garnishing boiled fish, and then a few bread crumbs should be added to the flour. _Time_.--5 or 6 minutes. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 10d. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. EXCELLENCE OF THE ENGLISH OYSTER.--The French assert that the English oysters, which are esteemed the best in Europe, were originally procured from Cancalle Bay, near St. Malo; but they assign no proof for this. It is a fact, however, that the oysters eaten in ancient Rome were nourished in the channel which then parted the Isle of Thanet from England, and which has since been filled up, and converted into meadows. BOILED PERCH. 292. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Scale the fish, take out the gills and clean it thoroughly; lay it in boiling water, salted as above, and simmer gently for 10 minutes. If the fish is very large, longer time must be allowed. Garnish with parsley, and serve with plain melted butter, or Dutch sauce. Perch do not preserve so good a flavour when stewed as when dressed in any other way. _Time_.--Middling-sized perch, 1/4 hour. _Seasonable_ from September to November. _Note_.--Tench may be boiled the same way, and served with the same sauces. [Illustration: THE PERCH.] THE PERCH.--This is one of the best, as it is one of the most common, of our fresh-water fishes, and is found in nearly all the lakes and rivers in Britain and Ireland, as well as through the whole of Europe within the temperate zone. It is extremely voracious, and it has the peculiarity of being gregarious, which is contrary to the nature of all fresh-water fishes of prey. The best season to angle for it is from the beginning of May to the middle of July. Large numbers of this fish are bred in the Hampton Court and Bushy Park ponds, all of which are well supplied with running water and with plenty of food; yet they rarely attain a large size. In the Regent's Park they are also very numerous; but are seldom heavier than three quarters of a pound. FRIED PERCH. 293. INGREDIENTS.--Egg and bread crumbs, hot lard. _Mode_.--Scale and clean the fish, brush it over with egg, and cover with bread crumbs. Have ready some boiling lard; put the fish in, and fry a nice brown. Serve with plain melted butter or anchovy sauce. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Seasonable_ from September to November. _Note_.--Fry tench in the same way. PERCH STEWED WITH WINE. 294. INGREDIENTS.--Equal quantities of stock No. 105 and sherry, 1 bay-leaf, 1 clove of garlic, a small bunch of parsley, 2 cloves, salt to taste; thickening of butter and flour, pepper, grated nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce. _Mode_.--Scale the fish and take out the gills, and clean them thoroughly; lay them in a stewpan with sufficient stock and sherry just to cover them. Put in the bay-leaf, garlic, parsley, cloves, and salt, and simmer till tender. When done, take out the fish, strain the liquor, add a thickening of butter and flour, the pepper, nutmeg, and the anchovy sauce, and stir it over the fire until somewhat reduced, when pour over the fish, and serve. _Time_.--About 20 minutes. _Seasonable_ from September to November. BOILED PIKE. 295. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water; a little vinegar. _Mode_.--Scale and clean the pike, and fasten the tail in its mouth by means of a skewer. Lay it in cold water, and when it boils, throw in the salt and vinegar. The time for boiling depends, of course, on the size of the fish; but a middling-sized pike will take about 1/2 an hour. Serve with Dutch or anchovy sauce, and plain melted butter. _Time_.--According to size, 1/2 to 1 hour.--_Average cost_. Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from September to March. [Illustration: THE PIKE.] THE PIKE.--This fish is, on account of its voracity, termed the freshwater shark, and is abundant in most of the European lakes, especially those of the northern parts. It grows to an immense size, some attaining to the measure of eight feet, in Lapland and Russia. The smaller lakes, of this country and Ireland, vary in the kinds of fish they produce; some affording trout, others pike; and so on. Where these happen to be together, however, the trout soon becomes extinct. "Within a short distance of Castlebar," says a writer on sports, "there is a small bog-lake called Derreens. Ten years ago it was celebrated for its numerous well-sized trouts. Accidentally pike effected a passage into the lake from the Minola river, and now the trouts are extinct, or, at least, none of them are caught or seen. Previous to the intrusion of the pikes, half a dozen trouts would be killed in an evening in Derreens, whose collective weight often amounted to twenty pounds." As an eating fish, the pike is in general dry. BAKED PIKE. 296. INGREDIENTS.--1 or 2 pike, a nice delicate stuffing (_see_ Forcemeats), 1 egg, bread crumbs, 1/4 lb. butter. _Mode_.--Scale the fish, take out the gills, wash, and wipe it thoroughly dry; stuff it with forcemeat, sew it up, and fasten the tail in the mouth by means of a skewer; brush it over with egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs, and baste with butter, before putting it in the oven, which must be well heated. When the pike is of a nice brown colour, cover it with buttered paper, as the outside would become too dry. If 2 are dressed, a little variety may be made by making one of them green with a little chopped parsley mixed with the bread crumbs. Serve anchovy or Dutch sauce, and plain melted butter with it. _Time_.--According to size, 1 hour, more or less. _Average cost_.--Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Note_.--Pike _à la génévese_ may be stewed in the same manner as salmon _à la génévese_. FRIED PLAICE. 297.--INGREDIENTS.--Hot lard, or clarified dripping; egg and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--This fish is fried in the same manner as soles. Wash and wipe them thoroughly dry, and let them remain in a cloth until it is time to dress them. Brush them over with egg, and cover with bread crumbs mixed with a little flour. Fry of a nice brown in hot dripping or lard, and garnish with fried parsley and cut lemon. Send them to table with shrimp-sauce and plain melted butter. _Time_.--About 5 minutes. _Average cost_, 3d. each. _Seasonable_ from May to November. _Sufficient_, 4 plaice for 4 persons. _Note_.--Plaice may be boiled plain, and served with melted butter. Garnish with parsley and cut lemon. STEWED PLAICE. 298. INGREDIENTS.--4 or 5 plaice, 2 onions, 1/2 oz. ground ginger, 1 pint of lemon-juice, 1/4 pint water, 6 eggs; cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the fish into pieces about 2 inches wide, salt them, and let them remain 1/4 hour. Slice and fry the onions a light brown; put them in a stewpan, on the top of which put the fish without washing, and add the ginger, lemon-juice, and water. Cook slowly for 1/2 hour, and do not let the fish boil, or it will break. Take it out, and when the liquor is cool, add 6 well-beaten eggs; simmer till it thickens, when pour over the fish, and serve. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 9d. _Seasonable_ from May to November. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons; according to size. [Illustration: THE PLAICE.] THE PLAICE.--This fish is found both in the Baltic and the Mediterranean, and is also abundant on the coast of England. It keeps well, and, like all ground-fish, is very tenacious of life. Its flesh is inferior to that of the sole, and, as it is a low-priced fish, it is generally bought by the poor. The best brought to the London market are called _Dowers plaice_, from their being caught in the Dowers, or flats, between Hastings and Folkstone. TO BOIL PRAWNS OR SHRIMPS. 299. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Prawns should be very red, and have no spawn under the tail; much depends on their freshness and the way in which they are cooked. Throw them into boiling water, salted as above, and keep them boiling for about 7 or 8 minutes. Shrimps should be done in the same way; but less time must be allowed. It may easily be known when they are done by their changing colour. Care should be taken that they are not over-boiled, as they then become tasteless and indigestible. _Time_.--Prawns, about 8 minutes; shrimps, about 5 minutes. _Average cost_, prawns, 2s. per lb.; shrimps, 6d. per pint. _Seasonable_ all the year. TO DRESS PRAWNS. 300. Cover a dish with a large cup reversed, and over that lay a small white napkin. Arrange the prawns on it in the form of a pyramid, and garnish with plenty of parsley. BOILED SALMON. 301. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of salt to each gallon of water,--sufficient water to cover the fish. _Mode_.--Scale and clean the fish, and be particular that no blood is left inside; lay it in the fish-kettle with sufficient cold water to cover it, adding salt in the above proportion. Bring it quickly to a boil, take off all the scum, and let it simmer gently till the fish is done, which will be when the meat separates easily from the bone. Experience alone can teach the cook to fix the time for boiling fish; but it is especially to be remembered, that it should never be underdressed, as then nothing is more unwholesome. Neither let it remain in the kettle after it is sufficiently cooked, as that would render it insipid, watery, and colourless. Drain it, and if not wanted for a few minutes, keep it warm by means of warm cloths laid over it. Serve on a hot napkin, garnish with cut lemon and parsley, and send lobster or shrimp sauce, and plain melted butter to table with it. A dish of dressed cucumber usually accompanies this fish. _Time_.--8 minutes to each lb. for large thick salmon; 6 minutes for thin fish. _Average cost_, in full season, 1s. 3d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from April to August. _Sufficient_, 1/2 lb., or rather less, for each person. _Note_.--Cut lemon should be put on the table with this fish; and a little of the juice squeezed over it is considered by many persons a most agreeable addition. Boiled peas are also, by some connoisseurs, considered especially adapted to be served with salmon. TO CHOOSE SALMON.--To be good, the belly should be firm and thick, which may readily be ascertained by feeling it with the thumb and finger. The circumstance of this fish having red gills, though given as a standing rule in most cookery-books, as a sign of its goodness, is not at all to be relied on, as this quality can be easily given them by art. SALMON AND CAPER SAUCE. 302. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of salmon, 1/4 lb. batter, 1/2 teaspoonful of chopped parsley, 1 shalot; salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Lay the salmon in a baking-dish, place pieces of butter over it, and add the other ingredients, rubbing a little of the seasoning into the fish; baste it frequently; when done, take it out and drain for a minute or two; lay it in a dish, pour caper sauce over it, and serve. Salmon dressed in this way, with tomato sauce, is very delicious. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from April to August. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. THE MIGRATORY HABITS OF THE SALMON.--The instinct with which the salmon revisits its native river, is one of the most curious circumstances in its natural history. As the swallow returns annually to its nest, so it returns to the same spot to deposit its ova. This fact would seem to have been repeatedly proved. M. De Lande fastened a copper ring round a salmon's tail, and found that, for three successive seasons, it returned to the same place. Dr. Bloch states that gold and silver rings have been attached by eastern princes to salmon, to prove that a communication existed between the Persian Gulf and the Caspian and Northern Seas, and that the experiment succeeded. COLLARED SALMON. 303. INGREDIENTS.--A piece of salmon, say 3 lbs., a high seasoning of salt, pounded mace, and pepper; water and vinegar, 3 bay-leaves. _Mode_.--Split the fish; scale, bone, and wash it thoroughly clean; wipe it, and rub in the seasoning inside and out; roll it up, and bind firmly; lay it in a kettle, cover it with vinegar and water (1/3 vinegar, in proportion to the water); add the bay-leaves and a good seasoning of salt and whole pepper, and simmer till done. Do not remove the lid. Serve with melted butter or anchovy sauce. For preserving the collared fish, boil up the liquor in which it was cooked, and add a little more vinegar. Pour over when cold. _Time_.--3/4 hour, or rather more. HABITAT OF THE SALMON.--The salmon is styled by Walton the "king of fresh-water fish," and is found distributed over the north of Europe and Asia, from Britain to Kamschatka, but is never found in warm latitudes, nor has it ever been caught even so far south as the Mediterranean. It lives in fresh as well as in salt waters, depositing its spawn in the former, hundreds of miles from the mouths of some of those rivers to which it has been known to resort. In 1859, great efforts were made to introduce this fish into the Australian colonies; and it is believed that the attempt, after many difficulties, which were very skilfully overcome, has been successful. CRIMPED SALMON. 304. Salmon is frequently dressed in this way at many fashionable tables, but must be very fresh, and cut into slices 2 or 3 inches thick. Lay these in cold salt and water for 1 hour; have ready some boiling water, salted, as in recipe No. 301, and well skimmed; put in the fish, and simmer gently for 1/4 hour, or rather more; should it be very thick, garnish the same as boiled salmon, and serve with the same sauces. _Time_.--1/4 hour, more or less, according to size. _Note_.--Never use vinegar with salmon, as it spoils the taste and colour of the fish. [Illustration: THE SALMON.] THE SALMON TRIBE.--This is the Abdominal fish, forming the fourth of the orders of Linnaeus. They are distinguished from the other fishes by having two dorsal fins, of which the hindmost is fleshy and without rays. They have teeth both on the tongue and in the jaws, whilst the body is covered with round and minutely striated scales. CURRIED SALMON. 305. INGREDIENTS.--Any remains of boiled salmon, 3/4 pint of strong or medium stock (No. 105), 1 onion, 1 tablespoonful of curry-powder, 1 teaspoonful of Harvey's sauce, 1 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce, 1 oz. of butter, the juice of 1/2 lemon, cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut up the onions into small pieces, and fry them of a pale brown in the butter; add all the ingredients but the salmon, and simmer gently till the onion is tender, occasionally stirring the contents; cut the salmon into small square pieces, carefully take away all skin and bone, lay it in the stewpan, and let it gradually heat through; but do not allow it to boil long. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold fish, 9d. GROWTH OF THE SALMON.--At the latter end of the year--some as soon as November--salmon begin to press up the rivers as far as they can reach, in order to deposit their spawn, which they do in the sand or gravel, about eighteen inches deep. Here it lies buried till the spring, when, about the latter end of March, it begins to exclude the young, which gradually increase to four or five inches in length, and are then termed smelts or smouts. About the beginning of May, the river seems to be alive with them, and there is no forming an idea of their numbers without having seen them. A seasonable flood, however, comes, and hurries them to the "great deep;" whence, about the middle of June, they commence their return to the river again. By this time they are twelve or sixteen inches long, and progressively increase, both in number and size, till about the end of July, when they have become large enough to be denominated _grilse_. Early in August they become fewer in numbers, but of greater size, haying advanced to a weight of from six to nine pounds. This rapidity of growth appears surprising, and realizes the remark of Walton, that "the salmlet becomes a salmon in as short a time as a gosling becomes a goose." Recent writers have, however, thrown considerable doubts on this quick growth of the salmon. SALMON CUTLETS. 306. Cut the slices 1 inch thick, and season them with pepper and salt; butter a sheet of white paper, lay each slice on a separate piece, with their ends twisted; broil gently over a clear fire, and serve with anchovy or caper sauce. When higher seasoning is required, add a few chopped herbs and a little spice. _Time_.--5 to 10 minutes. SALMON A LA GENEVESE. 307. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of salmon, 2 chopped shalots, a little parsley, a small bunch of herbs, 2 bay-leaves, 2 carrots, pounded mace, pepper and salt to taste, 4 tablespoonfuls of Madeira, 1/2 pint of white stock (No. 107), thickening of butter and flour, 1 teaspoonful of essence of anchovies, the juice of 1 lemon, cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Rub the bottom of a stewpan over with butter, and put in the shalots, herbs, bay-leaves, carrots, mace, and seasoning; stir them for 10 minutes over a clear fire, and add the Madeira or sherry; simmer gently for 1/2 hour, and strain through a sieve over the fish, which stew in this gravy. As soon as the fish is sufficiently cooked, take away all the liquor, except a little to keep the salmon moist, and put it into another stewpan; add the stock, thicken with butter and flour, and put in the anchovies, lemon-juice, cayenne, and salt; lay the salmon on a hot dish, pour over it part of the sauce, and serve the remainder in a tureen. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. PICKLED SALMON. 308. INGREDIENTS.--Salmon, 1/2 oz. of whole pepper, 1/2 oz. of whole allspice, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 2 bay-leaves, equal quantities of vinegar and the liquor in which the fish was boiled. _Mode_.--After the fish comes from table, lay it in a nice dish with a cover to it, as it should be excluded from the air, and take away the bone; boil the liquor and vinegar with the other ingredients for 10 minutes, and let it stand to get cold; pour it over the salmon, and in 12 hours this will be fit for the table. _Time_.--10 minutes. TO CURE SALMON.--This process consists in splitting the fish, rubbing it with salt, and then putting it into pickle in tubs provided for the purpose. Here it is kept for about six weeks, when it is taken out, pressed and packed in casks, with layers of salt. POTTED SALMON. 309. INGREDIENTS.--Salmon; pounded mace, cloves, and pepper to taste; 3 bay-leaves, 1/4 lb. butter. _Mode_.--Skin the salmon, and clean it thoroughly by wiping with a cloth (water would spoil it); cut it into square pieces, which rub with salt; let them remain till thoroughly drained, then lay them in a dish with the other ingredients, and bake. When quite done, drain them from the gravy, press into pots for use, and, when cold, pour over it clarified butter. _Time_.--1/2 hour. AN AVERSION IN THE SALMON.--The salmon is said to have an aversion to anything red; hence, fishermen engaged in catching it do not wear jackets or caps of that colour. Pontoppidan also says, that it has an abhorrence of carrion, and if any happens to be thrown into the places it haunts, it immediately forsakes them. The remedy adopted for this in Norway, is to throw into the polluted water a lighted torch. As food, salmon, when in perfection, is one of the most delicious and nutritive of our fish. BAKED SEA-BREAM. 310. INGREDIENTS.--1 bream. Seasoning to taste of salt, pepper, and cayenne; 1/4 lb. of butter. _Mode_.--Well wash the bream, but do not remove the scales, and wipe away all moisture with a nice dry cloth. Season it inside and out with salt, pepper, and cayenne, and lay it in a baking-dish. Place the butter, in small pieces, upon the fish, and bake for rather more than 1/2 an hour. To stuff this fish before baking, will be found a great improvement. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 an hour. _Seasonable_ in summer. [Illustration: THE SEA-BREAM.] _Note_.--This fish may be broiled over a nice clear fire, and served with a good brown gravy or white sauce, or it may be stewed in wine. THE SEA-BREAM.--This is an abundant fish in Cornwall, and it is frequently found in the fish-market of Hastings during the summer months, but it is not in much esteem. MR. YARRELL'S RECIPE. "When thoroughly cleansed, the fish should be wiped dry, but none of the scales should be taken off. In this state it should be broiled, turning it often, and if the skin cracks, flour it a little to keep the outer case entire. When on table, the whole skin and scales turn off without difficulty, and the muscle beneath, saturated in its own natural juices, which the outside covering has retained, will be of good flavour." TO DRESS SHAD. 311. INGREDIENTS.--1 shad, oil, pepper, and salt. _Mode_.--Scale, empty and wash the fish carefully, and make two or three incisions across the back. Season it with pepper and salt, and let it remain in oil for 1/2 hour. Broil it on both sides over a clear fire, and serve with caper sauce. This fish is much esteemed by the French, and by them is considered excellent. _Time_.--Nearly 1 hour. _Average cost_.--Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from April to June. [Illustration: THE SHAD.] THE SHAD.--This is a salt-water fish, but is held in little esteem. It enters our rivers to spawn in May, and great numbers of them are taken opposite the Isle of Dogs, in the Thames. POTTED SHRIMPS. 312. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of shelled shrimps, 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 1 blade of pounded mace, cayenne to taste; when liked, a little nutmeg. _Mode_.--Have ready a pint of picked shrimps, and put them, with the other ingredients, into a stewpan; let them heat gradually in the butter, but do not let it boil. Pour into small pots, and when cold, cover with melted butter, and carefully exclude the air. _Time_.--1/4 hour to soak in the butter. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 3d. BUTTERED PRAWNS OR SHRIMPS. 313. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of picked prawns or shrimps, 3/4 pint of stock No. 104, thickening of butter and flour; salt, cayenne, and nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Pick the prawns or shrimps, and put them in a stewpan with the stock; add a thickening of butter and flour; season, and simmer gently for 3 minutes. Serve on a dish garnished with fried bread or toasted sippets. Cream sauce may be substituted for the gravy. _Time_.--3 minutes. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 4d. [Illustration: THE SHRIMP.] THE SHRIMP.--This shell-fish is smaller than the prawn, and is greatly relished in London as a delicacy. It inhabits most of the sandy shores of Europe, and the Isle of Wight is especially famous for them. BOILED SKATE. 314. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Cleanse and skin the skate, lay it in a fish-kettle, with sufficient water to cover it, salted in the above proportion. Let it simmer very gently till done; then dish it on a hot napkin, and serve with shrimp, lobster, or caper sauce. _Time_.--According to size, from 1/2 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, 4d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from August to April. CRIMPED SKATE. 315. INGREDIENTS.--1/8 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Clean, skin, and cut the fish into slices, which roll and tie round with string. Have ready some water highly salted, put in the fish, and boil till it is done. Drain well, remove the string, dish on a hot napkin, and serve with the same sauces as above. Skate should never be eaten out of season, as it is liable to produce diarrhoea and other diseases. It may be dished without a napkin, and the sauce poured over. _Time_.--About 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from August to April. TO CHOOSE SKATE.--This fish should be chosen for its firmness, breadth, and thickness, and should have a creamy appearance. When crimped, it should not be kept longer than a day or two, as all kinds of crimped fish soon become sour. [Illustration: THORNBACK SKATE.] THE SKATE.--This is one of the ray tribe, and is extremely abundant and cheap in the fishing towns of England. The flesh is white, thick, and nourishing; but, we suppose, from its being so plentiful, it is esteemed less than it ought to be on account of its nutritive properties, and the ease with which it is digested. It is much improved by crimping; in which state it is usually sold in London. The THORNBACK differs from the true skate by having large spines in its back, of which the other is destitute. It is taken in great abundance during the spring and summer months, but its flesh is not so good as it is in November. It is, in regard to quality, inferior to that of the true skate. SKATE WITH CAPER SAUCE (a la Francaise) 316. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 slices of skate, 1/2 pint of vinegar, 2 oz. of salt, 1/2 teaspoonful of pepper, 1 sliced onion, a small bunch of parsley, 2 bay-leaves, 2 or 3 sprigs of thyme, sufficient water to cover the fish. _Mode_.--Put in a fish-kettle all the above ingredients, and simmer the skate in them till tender. When it is done, skin it neatly, and pour over it some of the liquor in which it has been boiling. Drain it, put it on a hot dish, pour over it caper sauce, and send some of the latter to table in a tureen. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 4d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from August to April. _Note_.--Skate may also be served with onion sauce, or parsley and butter. SMALL SKATE FRIED. 317. INGREDIENTS.--Skate, sufficient vinegar to cover them, salt and pepper to taste, 1 sliced onion, a small bunch of parsley, the juice of 1/2 lemon, hot dripping. _Mode_.--Cleanse the skate, lay them in a dish, with sufficient vinegar to cover them; add the salt, pepper, onion, parsley, and lemon-juice, and let the fish remain in this pickle for 1-1/2 hour. Then drain them well, flour them, and fry of a nice brown, in hot dripping. They may be served either with or without sauce. Skate is not good if dressed too fresh, unless it is crimped; it should, therefore, be kept for a day, but not long enough to produce a disagreeable smell. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from August to April. OTHER SPECIES OF SKATE.--Besides the true skate, there are several other species found in our seas. These are known as the _white_ skate, the long-nosed skate, and the Homelyn ray, which are of inferior quality, though often crimped, and sold for true skate. TO BAKE SMELTS. 318. INGREDIENTS.--12 smelts, bread crumbs, 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 2 blades of pounded mace; salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Wash, and dry the fish thoroughly in a cloth, and arrange them nicely in a flat baking-dish. Cover them with fine bread crumbs, and place little pieces of butter all over them. Season and bake for 15 minutes. Just before serving, add a squeeze of lemon-juice, and garnish with fried parsley and cut lemon. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. per dozen. _Seasonable_ from October to May. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. TO CHOOSE SMELTS.--When good, this fish is of a fine silvery appearance, and when alive, their backs are of a dark brown shade, which, after death, fades to a light fawn. They ought to have a refreshing fragrance, resembling that of a cucumber. THE ODOUR OF THE SMELT.--This peculiarity in the smelt has been compared, by some, to the fragrance of a cucumber, and by others, to that of a violet. It is a very elegant fish, and formerly abounded in the Thames. The _Atharine_, or sand smelt, is sometimes sold for the true one; but it is an inferior fish, being drier in the quality of its flesh. On the south coast of England, where the true smelt is rare, it is plentiful. TO FRY SMELTS. 319. INGREDIENTS.--Egg and bread crumbs, a little flour; boiling lard. _Mode_.--Smelts should be very fresh, and not washed more than is necessary to clean them. Dry them in a cloth, lightly flour, dip them in egg, and sprinkle over with very fine bread crumbs, and put them into boiling lard. Fry of a nice pale brown, and be careful not to take off the light roughness of the crumbs, or their beauty will be spoiled. Dry them before the fire on a drainer, and servo with plain melted butter. This fish is often used as a garnishing. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Average cost_, 2s. per dozen. _Seasonable_ from October to May. [Illustration: THE SMELT.] THE SMELT.--This is a delicate little fish, and is in high esteem. Mr. Yarrell asserts that the true smelt is entirety confined to the western and eastern coasts of Britain. It very rarely ventures far from the shore, and is plentiful in November, December, and January. BAKED SOLES. 320. INGREDIENTS.--2 soles, 1/4 lb. of butter, egg, and bread crumbs, minced parsley, 1 glass of sherry, lemon-juice; cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Clean, skin, and well wash the fish, and dry them thoroughly in a cloth. Brush them over with egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs mixed with a little minced parsley, lay them in a large flat baking-dish, white side uppermost; or if it will not hold the two soles, they may each be laid on a dish by itself; but they must not be put one on the top of the other. Melt the butter, and pour it over the whole, and bake for 20 minutes. Take a portion of the gravy that flows from the fish, add the wine, lemon-juice, and seasoning, give it one boil, skim, pour it _under_ the fish, and serve. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. to 2s. per pair. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. TO CHOOSE SOLES.--This fish should be both thick and firm. If the skin is difficult to be taken off, and the flesh looks grey, it is good. [Illustration: THE SOLE.] THE SOLE.--This ranks next to the turbot in point of excellence among our flat fish. It is abundant on the British coasts, but those of the western shores are much superior in size to those taken on the northern. The finest are caught in Torbay, and frequently weigh 8 or 10 lbs. per pair. Its flesh being firm, white, and delicate, is greatly esteemed. BOILED SOLES. 321. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Cleanse and wash the fish carefully, cut off the fins, but do not skin it. Lay it in a fish-kettle, with sufficient cold water to cover it, salted in the above proportion. Let it gradually come to a boil, and keep it simmering for a few minutes, according to the size of the fish. Dish it on a hot napkin after well draining it, and garnish with parsley and cut lemon. Shrimp, or lobster sauce, and plain melted butter, are usually sent to table with this dish. _Time_.--After the water boils, 7 minutes for a middling-sized sole. _Average cost_, 1s. to 2s. per pair. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_,--1 middling-sized sole for 2 persons. SOLE OR COD PIE. 322. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold boiled sole or cod, seasoning to taste of pepper, salt, and pounded mace, 1 dozen oysters to each lb. of fish, 3 tablespoonfuls of white stock, 1 teacupful of cream thickened with flour, puff paste. _Mode_.--Clear the fish from the bones, lay it in a pie-dish, and between each layer put a few oysters and a little seasoning; add the stock, and, when liked, a small quantity of butter; cover with puff paste, and bake for 1/2 hour. Boil the cream with sufficient flour to thicken it; pour in the pie, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 10d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. SOLES WITH CREAM SAUCE. 323. INGREDIENTS.--2 soles; salt, cayenne, and pounded mace to taste; the juice of 1/2 lemon, salt and water, 1/2 pint of cream. _Mode_.--Skin, wash, and fillet the soles, and divide each fillet in 2 pieces; lay them in cold salt and water, which bring gradually to a boil. When the water boils, take out the fish, lay it in a delicately clean stewpan, and cover with the cream. Add the seasoning, simmer very gently for ten minutes, and, just before serving, put in the lemon-juice. The fillets may be rolled, and secured by means of a skewer; but this is not so economical a way of dressing them, as double the quantity of cream is required. _Time_.--10 minutes in the cream. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 2s. per pair. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. This will be found a most delicate and delicious dish. THE SOLE A FAVOURITE WITH THE ANCIENT GREEKS.--This fish was much sought after by the ancient Greeks on account of its light and nourishing qualities. The brill, the flounder, the diamond and Dutch plaice, which, with the sole, were known under the general name of _passeres_, were all equally esteemed, and had generally the same qualities attributed to them. FILLETED SOLES A L'ITALIENNE. 324. INGREDIENTS.--2 soles; salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg to taste; egg and bread crumbs, butter, the juice of 1 lemon. _Mode_.--Skin, and carefully wash the soles, separate the meat from the bone, and divide each fillet in two pieces. Brush them over with white of egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs and seasoning, and put them in a baking-dish. Place small pieces of butter over the whole, and bake for 1/2 hour. When they are nearly done, squeeze the juice of a lemon over them, and serve on a dish, with Italian sauce (see Sauces) poured over. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 2s. per pair. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 6 persons. WHITING may be dressed in the same manner, and will be found very delicious. THE FLAVOUR OF THE SOLE.--This, as a matter of course, greatly depends on the nature of the ground and bait upon which the animal feeds. Its natural food are small crabs and shell-fish. Its colour also depends on the colour of the ground where it feeds; for if this be white, then the sole is called the white, or lemon sole; but if the bottom be muddy, then it is called the black sole. Small-sized soles, caught in shallow water on the coasts, are the best in flavour. FRICASSEED SOLES. 325. INGREDIENTS.--2 middling-sized soles, 1 small one, 1/2 teaspoonful of chopped lemon-peel, 1 teaspoonful of chopped parsley, a little grated bread; salt, pepper, and nutmeg to taste; 1 egg, 2 oz. butter, 1/2 pint of good gravy, 2 tablespoonfuls of port wine, cayenne and lemon-juice to taste. _Mode_.--Fry the soles of a nice brown, as directed in recipe No. 327, and drain them well from fat. Take all the meat from the small sole, chop it fine, and mix with it the lemon-peel, parsley, bread, and seasoning; work altogether, with the yolk of an egg and the butter; make this into small balls, and fry them. Thicken the gravy with a dessert-spoonful of flour, add the port wine, cayenne, and lemon-juice; lay in the 2 soles and balls; let them simmer gently for 6 minutes; serve hot, and garnish with cut lemon. _Time_.--10 minutes to fry the soles. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 3s. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. HOW SOLES ARE CAUGHT.--The instrument usually employed is a trawl net, which is shaped like a pocket, of from sixty to eighty feet long, and open at the mouth from thirty-two to forty feet, and three deep. This is dragged along the ground by the vessel, and on the art of the fisherman in its employment, in a great measure depends the quality of the fish he catches. If, for example, he drags the net too quickly, all that are caught are swept rapidly to the end of the net, where they are smothered, and sometimes destroyed. A medium has to be observed, in order that as few as possible escape being caught in the net, and as many as possible preserved alive in it. FRIED FILLETED SOLES. 326. Soles for filleting should be large, as the flesh can be more easily separated from the bones, and there is less waste. Skin and wash the fish, and raise the meat carefully from the bones, and divide it into nice handsome pieces. The more usual way is to roll the fillets, after dividing each one in two pieces, and either bind them round with twine, or run a small skewer through them. Brush over with egg, and cover with bread crumbs; fry them as directed in the foregoing recipe, and garnish with fried parsley and cut lemon. When a pretty dish is desired, this is by far the most elegant mode of dressing soles, as they look much better than when fried whole. (_See_ Coloured Plate A.) Instead of rolling the fillets, they may be cut into square pieces, and arranged in the shape of a pyramid on the dish. _Time_.--About 10 minutes. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 2s. per pair. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_,--2 large soles for 6 persons. FRIED SOLES. 327. INGREDIENTS.--2 middling-sized soles, hot lard or clarified dripping, egg, and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Skin and carefully wash the soles, and cut off the fins, wipe them very dry, and let them remain in the cloth until it is time to dress them. Have ready some fine bread crumbs and beaten egg; dredge the soles with a little flour, brush them over with egg, and cover with bread crumbs. Put them in a deep pan, with plenty of clarified dripping or lard (when the expense is not objected to, oil is still better) heated, so that it may neither scorch the fish nor make them sodden. When they are sufficiently cooked on one side, turn them carefully, and brown them on the other: they may be considered ready when a thick smoke rises. Lift them out carefully, and lay them before the fire on a reversed sieve and soft paper, to absorb the fat. Particular attention should be paid to this, as nothing is more disagreeable than greasy fish: this may be always avoided by dressing them in good time, and allowing a few minutes for them to get thoroughly crisp, and free from greasy moisture. Dish them on a hot napkin, garnish with cut lemon and fried parsley, and send them to table with shrimp sauce and plain melted butter. _Time_.--10 minutes for large soles; less time for small ones. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 2s. per pair. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. SOLES WITH MUSHROOMS. 328. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 1 pint of water, 1 oz. butter, 1 oz. salt, a little lemon-juice, 2 middling-sized soles. _Mode_.--Cleanse the soles, but do not skin them, and lay them in a fish-kettle, with the milk, water, butter, salt, and lemon-juice. Bring them gradually to boil, and let them simmer very gently till done, which will be in about 7 minutes. Take them up, drain them well on a cloth, put them on a hot dish, and pour over them a good mushroom sauce. (_See_ Sauces.) _Time_.--After the water boils, 7 minutes. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. SPRATS. 329. Sprats should be cooked very fresh, which can be ascertained by their bright and sparkling eyes. Wipe them dry; fasten them in rows by a skewer run through the eyes; dredge with flour, and broil them on a gridiron over a nice clear fire. The gridiron should be rubbed with suet. Serve very hot. _Time_,--3 or 4 minutes. _Average cost_, 1d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from November to March. TO CHOOSE SPRATS.--Choose these from their silvery appearance, as the brighter they are, so are they the fresher. SPRATS FRIED IN BATTER. 330. INGREDIENTS.--2 eggs, flour, bread crumbs; seasoning of salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Wipe the sprats, and dip them in a batter made of the above ingredients. Fry of a nice brown, serve very hot, and garnish with fried parsley. Sprats may be baked like herrings. (_See_ No. 268.) DRIED SPRATS. 331. Dried sprats should be put into a basin, and boiling water poured over them; they may then be skinned and served, and this will be found a much better way than boiling them. [Illustration: THE SPRAT.] THE SPRAT.--This migratory fish, is rarely found longer than four or five inches, and visits the shores of Britain after the herring and other kinds of fish have taken their departure from them. On the coasts of Suffolk, Essex, and Kent, they are very abundant, and from 400 to 500 boats are employed in catching them during the winter season. Besides plentifully supplying the London market, they are frequently sold at sixpence a bushel to farmers for manuring purposes. They enter the Thames about the beginning of November, and leave it in March. At Yarmouth and Gravesend they are cured like red herrings. BAKED STURGEON. 332. INGREDIENTS.--1 small sturgeon, salt and pepper to taste, 1 small bunch of herbs, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1 pint of white wine. _Mode_,--Cleanse the fish thoroughly, skin it, and split it along the belly without separating it; have ready a large baking-dish, in which lay the fish, sprinkle over the seasoning and herbs very finely minced, and moisten it with the lemon-juice and wine. Place the butter in small pieces over the whole of the fish, put it in the oven, and baste frequently; brown it nicely, and serve with its own gravy. _Time_.--Nearly 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. to 1s. 6d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from August to March. [Illustration: THE STURGEON.] THE STURGEON.--This fish commences the sixth of Linnaean order, and all the species are large, seldom measuring, when full-grown, less than three or four feet in length. Its flesh is reckoned extremely delicious, and, in the time of the emperor Severus, was so highly valued by the ancients, that it was brought to table by servants crowned with coronets, and preceded by a band of music. It is an inhabitant of the Baltic, the Mediterranean, the Caspian, and the Black Sea, and of the Danube, the Volga, the Don, and other large rivers. It is abundant in the rivers of North America, and is occasionally taken in the Thames, as well as in the Eske and the Eden. It is one of those fishes considered as royal property. It is from its _roe_ that _caviare_, a favourite food of the Russians, is prepared. Its flesh is delicate, firm, and white, but is rare in the London market, where it sells for 1s. or 1s. 6d. per lb. THE STERLET is a smaller species of sturgeon, found in the Caspian Sea and some Russian rivers. It also is greatly prized on account of the delicacy of its flesh. ROAST STURGEON. 333. INGREDIENTS.--Veal stuffing, buttered paper, the tail-end of a sturgeon. _Mode_.--Cleanse the fish, bone and skin it; make a nice veal stuffing (see Forcemeats), and fill it with the part where the bones came from; roll it in buttered paper, bind it up firmly with tape, like a fillet of veal, and roast it in a Dutch oven before a clear fire. Serve with good brown gravy, or plain melted butter. _Time_.--About 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. to 1s. 6d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Note_.--Sturgeon may be plain-boiled, and served with Dutch sauce. The fish is very firm, and requires long boiling. ESTIMATE OF THE STURGEON BY THE ANCIENTS.--By the ancients, the flesh of this fish was compared to the ambrosia of the immortals. The poet Martial passes a high eulogium upon it, and assigns it a place on the luxurious tables of the Palatine Mount. If we may credit a modern traveller in China, the people of that country generally entirely abstain from it, and the sovereign of the Celestial Empire confines it to his own kitchen, or dispenses it to only a few of his greatest favourites. MATELOT OF TENCH. 334. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of stock No. 105, 1/2 pint of port wine, 1 dozen button onions, a few mushrooms, a faggot of herbs, 2 blades of mace, 1 oz. of butter, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley, thyme, 1 shalot, 2 anchovies, 1 teacupful of stock No. 105, flour, 1 dozen oysters, the juice of 1/2 lemon; the number of tench, according to size. _Mode_.--Scale and clean the tench, cut them into pieces, and lay them in a stewpan; add the stock, wine, onions, mushrooms, herbs, and mace, and simmer gently for 1/2 hour. Put into another stewpan all the remaining ingredients but the oysters and lemon-juice, and boil slowly for 10 minutes, when add the strained liquor from the tench, and keep stirring it over the fire until somewhat reduced. Rub it through a sieve, pour it over the tench with the oysters, which must be previously scalded in their own liquor, squeeze in the lemon-juice, and serve. Garnish with croutons. _Time_. 3/4 hour. _Seasonable_ from October to June. [Illustration: THE TENCH.] THE TENCH.--This fish is generally found in foul and weedy waters, and in such places as are well supplied with rushes. They thrive best in standing waters, and are more numerous in pools and ponds than in rivers. Those taken in the latter, however, are preferable for the table. It does not often exceed four or five pounds in weight, and is in England esteemed as a delicious and wholesome food. As, however, they are sometimes found in waters where the mud is excessively fetid, their flavour, if cooked immediately on being caught, is often very unpleasant; but if they are transferred into clear water, they soon recover from the obnoxious taint. TENCH STEWED WITH WINE. 335. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of stock No. 105, 1/2 pint of Madeira or sherry, salt and pepper to taste, 1 bay-leaf, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Clean and crimp the tench; carefully lay it in a stewpan with the stock, wine, salt and pepper, and bay-leaf; let it stew gently for 1/2 hour; then take it out, put it on a dish, and keep hot. Strain the liquor, and thicken it with butter and flour kneaded together, and stew for 5 minutes. If not perfectly smooth, squeeze it through a tammy, add a very little cayenne, and pour over the fish. Garnish with balls of veal forcemeat. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ from October to June. A SINGULAR QUALITY IN THE TENCH.--It is said that the tench is possessed of such healing properties among the finny tribes, that even the voracious pike spares it on this account. The pike, fell tyrant of the liquid plain, With ravenous waste devours his fellow train; Yet howsoe'er with raging famine pined, The tench he spares, a medicinal kind; For when by wounds distress'd, or sore disease, He courts the salutary fish for ease; Close to his scales the kind physician glides, And sweats a healing balsam from his sides. In our estimation, however, this self-denial in the pike may be attributed to a less poetical cause; namely, from the mud-loving disposition of the tench, it is enabled to keep itself so completely concealed at the bottom of its aqueous haunts, that it remains secure from the attacks of its predatory neighbour. STEWED TROUT. 336. INGREDIENTS.--2 middling-sized trout, 1/2 onion cut in thin slices, a little parsley, 2 cloves, 1 blade of mace, 2 bay-leaves, a little thyme, salt and pepper to taste, 1 pint of medium stock No. 105, 1 glass of port wine, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Wash the fish very clean, and wipe it quite dry. Lay it in a stewpan, with all the ingredients but the butter and flour, and simmer gently for 1/2 hour, or rather more, should not the fish be quite done. Take it out, strain the gravy, add the thickening, and stir it over a sharp fire for 5 minutes; pour it over the trout, and serve. _Time_.--According to size, 1/2 hour or more. _Average cost_.--Seldom bought. _Seasonable_ from May to September, and fatter from the middle to the end of August than at any other time. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. Trout may be served with anchovy or caper sauce, baked in buttered paper, or fried whole like smelts. Trout dressed a la Génévese is extremely delicate; for this proceed the same as with salmon, No. 307. [Illustration: THE TROUT.] THE TROUT.--This fish, though esteemed by the moderns for its delicacy, was little regarded by the ancients. Although it abounded in the lakes of the Roman empire, it is generally mentioned by writers only on account of the beauty of its colours. About the end of September, they quit the deep water to which they had retired during the hot weather, for the purpose of spawning. This they always do on a gravelly bottom, or where gravel and sand are mixed among stones, towards the end or by the sides of streams. At this period they become black about the head and body, and become soft and unwholesome. They are never good when they are large with roe; but there are in all trout rivers some barren female fish, which continue good throughout the winter. In the common trout, the stomach is uncommonly strong and muscular, shell-fish forming a portion of the food of the animal; and it takes into its stomach gravel or small stones in order to assist in comminuting it. BOILED TURBOT. 337. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_--Choose a middling-sized turbot; for they are invariably the most valuable: if very large, the meat will be tough and thready. Three or four hours before dressing, soak the fish in salt and water to take off the slime; then thoroughly cleanse it, and with a knife make an incision down the middle of the back, to prevent the skin of the belly from cracking. Rub it over with lemon, and be particular not to cut off the fins. Lay the fish in a very clean turbot-kettle, with sufficient cold water to cover it, and salt in the above proportion. Let it gradually come to a boil, and skim very carefully; keep it gently simmering, and on no account let it boil fast, as the fish would have a very unsightly appearance. When the meat separates easily from the bone, it is done; then take it out, let it drain well, and dish it on a hot napkin. Rub a little lobster spawn through a sieve, sprinkle it over the fish, and garnish with tufts of parsley and cut lemon. Lobster or shrimp sauce, and plain melted butter, should be sent to table with it. (See Coloured Plate E.) _Time_.--After the water boils, about 1/2 hour for a large turbot; middling size, about 20 minutes. _Average cost_,--large turbot, from 10s. to 12s.; middling size, from 12s. to 15s. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_, 1 middling-sized turbot for 8 persons. _Note_.--An amusing anecdote is related, by Miss Edgeworth, of a bishop, who, descending to his kitchen to superintend the dressing of a turbot, and discovering that his cook had stupidly cut off the fins, immediately commenced sewing them on again with his own episcopal fingers. This dignitary knew the value of a turbot's gelatinous appendages. GARNISH FOR TURBOT OR OTHER LARGE FISH. 338. Take the crumb of a stale loaf, cut it into small pyramids with flat tops, and on the top of each pyramid, put rather more than a tablespoonful of white of egg beaten to a stiff froth. Over this, sprinkle finely-chopped parsley and fine raspings of a dark colour. Arrange these on the napkin round the fish, one green and one brown alternately. TO CHOOSE TURBOT.--See that it is thick, and of a yellowish white; for if of a bluish tint, it is not good. [Illustration: THE TURBOT.] THE TURBOT.--This is the most esteemed of all our flat fish. The northern parts of the English coast, and some places off the coast of Holland, produce turbot in great abundance, and in greater excellence than any other parts of the world. The London market is chiefly supplied by Dutch fishermen, who bring to it nearly 90,000 a year. The flesh is firm, white, rich, and gelatinous, and is the better for being kept a day or two previous to cooking it. In many parts of the country, turbot and halibut are indiscriminately sold for each other. They are, however, perfectly distinct; the upper parts of the former being marked with large, unequal, and obtuse tubercles, while those of the other are quite smooth, and covered with oblong soft scales, which firmly adhere to the body. [Illustration: TURBOT-KETTLE.] FISH-KETTLES are made in an oblong form, and have two handles, with a movable bottom, pierced full of holes, on which the fish is laid, and on which it may be lifted from the water, by means of two long handles attached to each side of the movable bottom. This is to prevent the liability of breaking the fish, as it would necessarily be if it were cooked in a common saucepan. In the list of Messrs. Richard and John Slack (see 71), the price of two of these is set down at 10s. The turbot-kettle, as will be seen by our cut, is made differently from ordinary fish-kettles, it being less deep, whilst it is wider, and more pointed at the sides; thus exactly answering to the shape of the fish which it is intended should be boiled in it. It may be obtained from the same manufacturers, and its price is £1. BAKED FILLETS OF TURBOT. 339. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold turbot, lobster sauce left from the preceding day, egg, and bread crumbs; cayenne and salt to taste; minced parsley, nutmeg, lemon-juice. _Mode_.--After having cleared the fish from all skin and bone, divide it into square pieces of an equal size; brush them over with egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs mixed with a little minced parsley and seasoning. Lay the fillets in a baking-dish, with sufficient butter to baste with. Bake for 1/4 hour, and do not forget to keep them well moistened with the butter. Put a little lemon-juice and grated nutmeg to the cold lobster sauce; make it hot, and pour over the fish, which must be well drained from the butter. Garnish with parsley and cut lemon. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Cold turbot thus warmed in the remains of lobster sauce will be found much nicer than putting the fish again in water. FILLETS OF TURBOT A L'ITALIENNE. 340. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold turbot, Italian sauce. (See Sauces.) _Mode_.--Clear the fish carefully from the bone, and take away all skin, which gives an unpleasant flavour to the sauce. Make the sauce hot, lay in the fish to warm through, but do not let it boil. Garnish with croutons. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Seasonable_ all the year. THE ANCIENT ROMANS' ESTIMATE OF TURBOT.--As this luxurious people compared soles to partridges, and sturgeons to peacocks, so they found a resemblance to the turbot in the pheasant. In the time of Domitian, it is said one was taken of such dimensions as to require, in the imperial kitchen, a new stove to be erected, and a new dish to be made for it, in order that it might be cooked and served whole: not even imperial Rome could furnish a stove or a dish large enough for the monstrous animal. Where it was caught, we are not aware; but the turbot of the Adriatic Sea held a high rank in the "Eternal City." TURBOT A LA CREME. 341. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold turbot. For sauce, 2 oz. of butter, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream; salt, cayenne, and pounded mace to taste. _Mode_.--Clear away all skin and bone from the flesh of the turbot, which should be done when it comes from table, as it causes less waste when trimmed hot. Cut the flesh into nice square pieces, as equally as possible; put into a stewpan the butter, let it melt, and add the cream and seasoning; let it just simmer for one minute, but not boil. Lay in the fish to warm, and serve it garnished with croutons or a paste border. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The remains of cold salmon may be dressed in this way, and the above mixture may be served in a _vol-au-vent_. TURBOT AU GRATIN. 342. INGREDIENTS.--Remains of cold turbot, béchamel (_see_ Sauces), bread crumbs, butter. _Mode_.--Cut the flesh of the turbot into small dice, carefully freeing it from all skin and bone. Put them into a stewpan, and moisten with 4 or 5 tablespoonfuls of béchamel. Let it get thoroughly hot, but do not allow it to boil. Spread the mixture on a dish, cover with finely-grated bread crumbs, and place small pieces of butter over the top. Brown it in the oven, or with a salamander. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. BOILED WHITING. 343. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of salt to each gallon of water. _Mode_.--Cleanse the fish, but do not skin them; lay them in a fish-kettle, with sufficient cold water to cover them, and salt in the above proportion. Bring them gradually to a boil, and simmer gently for about 5 minutes, or rather more should the fish be very large. Dish them on a hot napkin, and garnish with tufts of parsley. Serve with anchovy or caper sauce, and plain melted butter. _Time_.--After the water boils, 5 minutes. _Average cost_ for small whitings, 4d. each. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from October to March. _Sufficient_, 1 small whiting for each person. To CHOOSE WHITING.--Choose for the firmness of its flesh and the silvery hue of its appearance. [Illustration: THE WHITING.] The Whiting.--This fish forms a light, tender, and delicate food, easy of digestion. It appears in our seas in the spring, within three miles of the shores, where it arrives in large shoals to deposit its spawn. It is caught by line, and is usually between ten and twelve inches long, and seldom exceeding a pound and a half in weight. On the edge of the Dogger Bank, however, it has been caught so heavy as to weigh from three to seven or eight pounds. When less than six inches long, it is not allowed to be caught. BROILED WHITING. 344. INGREDIENTS.--Salt and water, flour. _Mode_.--Wash the whiting in salt and water, wipe them thoroughly, and let them remain in the cloth to absorb all moisture. Flour them well, and broil over a very clear fire. Serve with _maître d'hôtel_ sauce, or plain melted butter (_see_ Sauces). Be careful to preserve the liver, as by some it is considered very delicate. _Time_.--5 minutes for a small whiting. _Average cost_, 4d. each. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from October to March. _Sufficient_, 1 small whiting for each person. Buckhorn.--Whitings caught in Cornwall are salted and dried, and in winter taken to the markets, and sold under the singular name of "Buckhorn." FRIED WHITING. 345. INGREDIENTS.--Egg and bread crumbs, a little flour, hot lard or clarified dripping. _Mode_.--Take off the skin, clean, and thoroughly wipe the fish free from all moisture, as this is most essential, in order that the egg and bread crumbs may properly adhere. Fasten the tail in the mouth by means of a small skewer, brush the fish over with egg, dredge with a little flour, and cover with bread crumbs. Fry them in hot lard or clarified dripping of a nice colour, and serve them on a napkin, garnished with fried parsley. (See Coloured Plate D.) Send them to table with shrimp sauce and plain melted butter. _Time_.--About 6 minutes. Average cost, 4d. each. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from October to March. _Sufficient_, 1 small whiting for each person. _Note_.--Large whitings may be filleted, rolled, and served as fried filleted soles (_see_ Coloured Plato A). Small fried whitings are frequently used for garnishing large boiled fish, such as turbot, cod, etc. WHITING AU GRATIN, or BAKED WHITING. 346. INGREDIENTS.--4 whiting, butter, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, a few chopped mushrooms when obtainable; pepper, salt, and grated nutmeg to taste; butter, 2 glasses of sherry or Madeira, bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Grease the bottom of a baking-dish with butter, and over it, strew some minced parsley and mushrooms. Scale, empty, and wash the whitings, and wipe them thoroughly dry, carefully preserving the livers. Lay them in the dish, sprinkle them with bread crumbs and seasoning, adding a little grated nutmeg, and also a little more minced parsley and mushrooms. Place small pieces of butter over the whiting, moisten with the wine, and bake for 20 minutes in a hot oven. If there should be too much sauce, reduce it by boiling over a sharp fire for a few minutes, and pour under the fish. Serve with a cut lemon, and no other sauce. _Time_.---20 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. each. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from October to March. _Sufficient_.--This quantity for 4 or 5 persons. WHITING AUX FINE HERBES. 347. INGREDIENTS.-1 bunch of sweet herbs chopped very fine; butter. _Mode_.--Clean and skin the fish, fasten the tails in the mouths; and lay them in a baking-dish. Mince the herbs very fine, strew them over the fish, and place small pieces of butter over; cover with another dish, and let them simmer in a Dutch oven for 1/4 hour or 20 minutes. Turn the fish once or twice, and serve with the sauce poured over. _Time_.--1/4 hour or 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. each. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from October to March. _Sufficient_, 1 small whiting for each person. THE WHITING POUT, AND POLLACK.--About the mouth of the Thames, and generally all round the English coasts, as well as in the northern seas, the pout is plentiful. It bears a striking resemblance to the whiting, and is esteemed as an excellent fish.--The _pollack_ is also taken all round our coasts, and likewise bears a striking resemblance to the whiting; indeed, it is sometimes mistaken by the inexperienced for that fish; its flesh being considered by many equally delicate. TO DRESS WHITEBAIT. 348. INGREDIENTS.--A little flour, hot lard, seasoning of salt. _Mode_.--This fish should be put into iced water as soon as bought, unless they are cooked immediately. Drain them from the water in a colander, and have ready a nice clean dry cloth, over which put 2 good handfuls of flour. Toss in the whitebait, shake them lightly in the cloth, and put them in a wicker sieve to take away the superfluous flour. Throw them into a pan of boiling lard, very few at a time, and let them fry till of a whitey-brown colour. Directly they are done, they must he taken out, and laid before the fire for a minute or two on a sieve reversed, covered with blotting-paper to absorb the fat. Dish them on a hot napkin, arrange the fish very high in the centre, and sprinkle a little salt over the whole. _Time_.--3 minutes. _Seasonable _from April to August. [Illustration: WHITEBAIT.] WHITEBAIT.--This highly-esteemed little fish appears in innumerable multitudes in the river Thames, near Greenwich and Blackwall, during the month of July, when it forms, served with lemon and brown bread and butter, a tempting dish to vast numbers of Londoners, who flock to the various taverns of these places, in order to gratify their appetites. The fish has been supposed be the fry of the shad, the sprat, the smelt, or the bleak. Mr. Yarrell, however, maintains that it is a species in itself, distinct from every other fish. When fried with flour, it is esteemed a great delicacy. The ministers of the Crown have had a custom, for many years, of having a "whitebait dinner" just before the close of the session. It is invariably the precursor of the prorogation of Parliament, and the repast is provided by the proprietor of the "Trafalgar," Greenwich. FISH PIE, WITH TENCH AND EELS. 349. INGREDIENTS.--2 tench, 2 eels, 2 onions, a faggot of herbs, 4 blades of mace, 3 anchovies, 1 pint of water, pepper and salt to taste, 1 teaspoonful of chopped parsley, the yolks of 6 hard-boiled eggs, puff paste. _Mode_.--Clean and bone the tench, skin and bone the eels, and cut them into pieces 2 inches long, and leave the sides of the tench whole. Put the bones into a stewpan with the onions, herbs, mace, anchovies, water, and seasoning, and let them simmer gently for 1 hour. Strain it off, put it to cool, and skim off all the fat. Lay the tench and eels in a pie-dish, and between each layer put seasoning, chopped parsley, and hard-boiled eggs; pour in part of the strained liquor, cover in with puff paste, and bake for 1/2 hour or rather more. The oven should be rather quick, and when done, heat the remainder of the liquor, which pour into the pie. _Time_.--1/2 hour to bake, or rather more if the oven is slow. FISH SCALLOP. I. 350. INGREDIENTS.--Remains of cold fish of any sort, 1/2 pint of cream, 1/2 tablespoonful of anchovy sauce, 1/2 teaspoonful of made mustard, ditto of walnut ketchup, pepper and salt to taste (the above quantities are for 1/2 lb. of fish when picked); bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a stewpan, carefully picking the fish from the bones; set it on the fire, let it remain till nearly hot, occasionally stir the contents, but do not allow it to boil. When done, put the fish into a deep dish or scallop shell, with a good quantity of bread crumbs; place small pieces of butter on the top, set in a Dutch oven before the fire to brown, or use a salamander. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold fish, 10d. II. 351. INGREDIENTS.--Any cold fish, 1 egg, milk, 1 large blade of pounded mace, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce, pepper and salt to taste, bread crumbs, butter. _Mode_.--Pick the fish carefully from the bones, and moisten with milk and the egg; add the other ingredients, and place in a deep dish or scallop shells; cover with bread crumbs, butter the top, and brown before the fire; when quite hot, serve. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold fish, 4d. WATER SOUCHY. 352. Perch, tench, soles, eels, and flounders are considered the best fish for this dish. For the souchy, put some water into a stewpan with a bunch of chopped parsley, some roots, and sufficient salt to make it brackish. Let these simmer for 1 hour, and then stew the fish in this water. When they are done, take them out to drain, have ready some finely-chopped parsley, and a few roots cut into slices of about one inch thick and an inch in length. Put the fish in a tureen or deep dish, strain the liquor over them, and add the minced parsley and roots. Serve with brown bread and butter. 353. SUPPLY OF FISH TO THE LONDON MARKET.--From Mr. Mayhew's work on "London Labour and the London Poor," and other sources, we are enabled to give the following table of the total annual supply of fish to the London market:-- Description of Fish. Number of Weight of Fish Fish in lbs WET FISH. Salmon and Salmon-Trout(29,000 boxes, 14 fish per box) 406,000 3,480,000 Turbot, from 8 to 16 lbs. 800,000 5,600,000 Live Cod, averaging 10 lbs. each 400,000 4,000,000 Soles, averaging 1/4 lbs. each 97,520,000 26,880,000 Brill and Mullet, averaging 3 lbs. each 1,220,000 3,366,000 Whiting, averaging 6 oz. each 17,920,000 6,720,000 Haddock, averaging 2 lbs. each 2,470,000 4,940,000 Plaice, averaging 1 lb. each 33,600,000 33,600,000 Mackerel, averaging 1 lb ach 23,520,000 23,520,000 Fresh herrings (250,000 barrels, 700 fish per barrel) 175,000,000 42,000,000 Ditto in bulk 1,050,000,000 252,000,000 Sprats -- 4,000,000 Eels (from Holland principally) England and Ireland 9,797,760 1,632,960 Flounders 259,200 48,200 Dabs 270,000 48,750 DRY FISH. Barrelled Cod(15,000 barrels, 40 fish per barrel) 750,000 4,200,000 Dried Salt Cod, 5 lbs each 1,600,000 8,000,000 Smoked Haddock(65,000 barrels, 300 fish per barrel) 19,500,000 10,920,000 Bloaters, 265,000 baskets(150 fish per basket) 147,000,000 10,600,000 Red Herrings, 100,000 barrels(500 fish per barrel) 50,000,000 14,000,000 Dried Sprats, 9,600 large bundles (30 fish per bundle) 288,000 9,600 SHELL FISH. Oysters 495,896,000 Lobsters, averaging 1 lb each 1,200,000 1,200,000 Crabs, averaging 1 lb each 600,000 600,000 Shrimps, 324 to a pint 498,428,648 Whelks, 227 to a half-bushel 4,943,200 Mussels, 1000 to ditto 50,400,000 Cockles, 2000 to ditto 67,392,000 Periwinkles, 4000 to ditto 304,000,000 The whole of the above may be, in round numbers, reckoned to amount to the enormous number of 3,000,000,000 fish, with a weight of 300,000 tons. ADDENDUM AND ANECDOTE. It will be seen, from the number and variety of the recipes which we have been enabled to give under the head of FISH, that there exists in the salt ocean, and fresh-water rivers, an abundance of aliment, which the present state of gastronomic art enables the cook to introduce to the table in the most agreeable forms, and oftentimes at a very moderate cost. Less nutritious as a food than the flesh of animals, more succulent than vegetables, fish may be termed a middle dish, suited to all temperaments and constitutions; and one which those who are recovering from illness may partake of with safety and advantage. As to which is the best fish, there has been much discussion. The old Latin proverb, however, _de gustibus non disputandum_, and the more modern Spanish one, _sobre los gustos no hai disputa_, declare, with equal force, that where _taste_ is concerned, no decision can be arrived at. Each person's palate may be differently affected--pleased or displeased; and there is no standard by which to judge why a red mullet, a sole, or a turbot, should be better or worse than a salmon, trout, pike, or a tiny tench. Fish, as we have explained, is less nourishing than meat; for it is lighter in weight, size for size, and contains no ozmazome (_see_ No. 100). Shell-fish, oysters particularly, furnish but little nutriment; and this is the reason why so many of the latter can be eaten without injury to the system. In Brillat Savarin's [Footnote: Brillat Savarin was a French lawyer and judge of considerable eminence and great talents, and wrote, under the above title, a book on gastronomy, full of instructive information, enlivened with a fund of pleasantly-told anecdote.] clever and amusing volume, "The Physiology of Taste," he says, that towards the end of the eighteenth century it was a most common thing for a well-arranged entertainment in Paris to commence with oysters, and that many guests were not contented without swallowing twelve dozen. Being anxious to know the weight of this advanced-guard, he ascertained that a dozen oysters, fluid included, weighed 4 ounces,--thus, the twelve dozen would weigh about 3 lbs.; and there can be no doubt, that the same persons who made no worse a dinner on account of having partaken of the oysters, would have been completely satisfied if they had eaten the same weight of chicken or mutton. An anecdote, perfectly well authenticated, is narrated of a French gentleman (M. Laperte), residing at Versailles, who was extravagantly fond of oysters, declaring he never had enough. Savarin resolved to procure him the satisfaction, and gave him an invitation to dinner, which was duly accepted. The guest arrived, and his host kept company with him in swallowing the delicious bivalves up to the tenth dozen, when, exhausted, he gave up, and let M. Laperte go on alone. This gentleman managed to eat thirty-two dozen within an hour, and would doubtless have got through more, but the person who opened them is described as not being very skilful. In the interim Savarin was idle, and at length, tired with his painful state of inaction, he said to Laperte, whilst the latter was still in full career, "Mon cher, you will not eat as many oysters to-day as you meant; let us dine." They dined, and the insatiable oyster-eater acted at the repast as if he had fasted for a week. FISH CARVING. GENERAL DIRECTIONS FOR CARVING FISH. In carving fish, care should be taken to help it in perfect flakes, as, if these are broken, the beauty of the fish is lost. The carver should be acquainted, too, with the choicest parts and morsels; and to give each guest an equal share of these _titbits_ should be his maxim. Steel knives and forks should on no account be used in helping fish, as these are liable to impart to it a very disagreeable flavour. Where silver fish-carvers are considered too dear to be bought, good electro-plated ones answer very well, and are inexpensive. The prices set down for them by Messrs. Slack, of the Strand, are from a guinea upwards. COD'S HEAD AND SHOULDERS. (For recipe, see No. 232; and for mode of serving, Coloured Plate C.) [Illustration] First run the knife along the centre of the side of the fish, namely, from _d_ to _b_, down to the bone; then carve it in unbroken slices downwards from _d_ to _e_, or upwards from _d_ to _c_, as shown in the engraving. The carver should ask the guests if they would like a portion of the roe and liver. _Note_.--Of this fish, the parts about the backbone and shoulders are the firmest, and most esteemed by connoisseurs. The sound, which lines the fish beneath the backbone, is considered a delicacy, as are also the gelatinous parts about the head and neck. SALMON. (For recipe, see No. 301; and for mode of dressing, Coloured Plate B.) [Illustration] First run the knife quite down to the bone, along the side of the fish, from _a_ to _b_, and also from _c_ to _d_. Then help the thick part lengthwise, that is, in the direction of the lines from _a_ to _b_; and the thin part breadthwise, that is, in the direction of the lines from _e_ to _f_, as shown in the engraving. A slice of the thick part should always be accompanied by a smaller piece of the thin from the belly, where lies the fat of the fish. _Note_.--Many persons, in carving salmon, make the mistake of slicing the thick part of this fish in the opposite direction to that we have stated; and thus, by the breaking of the flakes, the beauty of its appearance is destroyed. BOILED OR FRIED SOLE. (For recipes, see Nos. 321 and 327.) The usual way of helping this fish is to cut it quite through, bone and all, distributing it in nice and not too large pieces. A moderately-sized sole will be sufficient for three slices; namely, the head, middle, and tail. The guests should be asked which of these they prefer. A small one will only give two slices. If the sole is very large, the upper side may be raised from the bone, and then divided into pieces; and the under side afterwards served in the same way. In helping FILLETED SOLES, one fillet is given to each person. (For mode of serving, see Coloured Plate A.) TURBOT. (For recipe, see No. 337; and for mode of serving, Coloured Plate E.) First run the fish-slice down the thickest part of the fish, quite through to the bone, from _a_ to _b_, and then cut handsome and regular slices in the direction of the lines downwards, from _c_ to _e_, and upwards from _c_ to _d_, as shown in the engraving. When the carver has removed all the meat from the upper side of the fish, the backbone should be raised, put on one side of the dish, and the under side helped as the upper. A BRILL and JOHN DORY are carved in the same manner as a Turbot. [Illustration] _Note_.--The thick parts of the middle of the back are the best slices in a turbot; and the rich gelatinous skin covering the fish, as well as a little of the thick part of the fins, are dainty morsels, and should be placed on each plate. WHITING, &c. Whiting, pike, haddock, and other fish, when of a sufficiently large size, may be carved in the same manner as salmon. When small, they may be cut through, bone and all, and helped in nice pieces, a middling-sized whiting serving for two slices. _Note_.--The THICK part of the EEL is reckoned the best; and this holds good of all flat fish. The TAIL of the LOBSTER is the prime part, and next to that the CLAWS. [Illustration: FISH CARVERS.] [Illustration] SAUCES, PICKLES, GRAVIES, AND FORCEMEATS. CHAPTER IX. GENERAL REMARKS. 354. AN ANECDOTE IS TOLD of the prince de Soubise, who, intending to give an entertainment, asked for the bill of fare. His _chef_ came, presenting a list adorned with vignettes, and the first article of which, that met the prince's eye, was "fifty hams." "Bertrand," said the prince, "I think you must be extravagant; Fifty hams! do you intend to feast my whole regiment?" "No, Prince, there will be but one on the table, and the surplus I need for my Espagnole, blondes, garnitures, &c." "Bertrand, you are robbing me: this item will not do." "Monseigneur," said the _artiste_, "you do not appreciate me. Give me the order, and I will put those fifty hams in a crystal flask no longer than my thumb." The prince smiled, and the hams were passed. This was all very well for the prince de Soubise; but as we do not write for princes and nobles alone, but that our British sisters may make the best dishes out of the least expensive ingredients, we will also pass the hams, and give a few general directions concerning Sauces, &c. 355. THE PREPARATION AND APPEARANCE OF SAUCES AND GRAVIES are of the highest consequence, and in nothing does the talent and taste of the cook more display itself. Their special adaptability to the various viands they are to accompany cannot be too much studied, in order that they may harmonize and blend with them as perfectly, so to speak, as does a pianoforte accompaniment with the voice of the singer. 356. THE GENERAL BASIS OF MOST GRAVIES and some sauces is the same stock as that used for soups (_see_ Nos. 104, 105, 106, and 107); and, by the employment of these, with, perhaps, an additional slice of ham, a little spice, a few herbs, and a slight flavouring from some cold sauce or ketchup, very nice gravies may be made for a very small expenditure. A milt (either of a bullock or sheep), the shank-end of mutton that has already been dressed, and the necks and feet of poultry, may all be advantageously used for gravy, where much is not required. It may, then, be established as a rule, that there exists no necessity for good gravies to be expensive, and that there is no occasion, as many would have the world believe, to buy ever so many pounds of fresh meat, in order to furnish an ever so little quantity of gravy. 357. BROWN SAUCES, generally speaking, should scarcely be so thick as white sauces; and it is well to bear in mind, that all those which are intended to mask the various dishes of poultry or meat, should be of a sufficient consistency to slightly adhere to the fowls or joints over which they are poured. For browning and thickening sauces, &c., browned flour may be properly employed. 358. SAUCES SHOULD POSSESS A DECIDED CHARACTER; and whether sharp or sweet, savoury or plain, they should carry out their names in a distinct manner, although, of course, not so much flavoured as to make them too piquant on the one hand, or too mawkish on the other. 359. GRAVIES AND SAUCES SHOULD BE SENT TO TABLE VERY HOT; and there is all the more necessity for the cook to see to this point, as, from their being usually served in small quantities, they are more liable to cool quickly than if they were in a larger body. Those sauces, of which cream or eggs form a component part, should be well stirred, as soon as these ingredients are added to them, and must never be allowed to boil; as, in that case, they would instantly curdle. 360. ALTHOUGH PICKLES MAY BE PURCHASED at shops at as low a rate as they can usually be made for at home, or perhaps even for less, yet we would advise all housewives, who have sufficient time and convenience, to prepare their own. The only general rules, perhaps, worth stating here,--as in the recipes all necessary details will be explained, are, that the vegetables and fruits used should be sound, and not over ripe, and that the very best vinegar should be employed. 361. FOR FORCEMEATS, SPECIAL ATTENTION IS NECESSARY. The points which cooks should, in this branch of cookery, more particularly observe, are the thorough chopping of the suet, the complete mincing of the herbs, the careful grating of the bread-crumbs, and the perfect mixing of the whole. These are the three principal ingredients of forcemeats, and they can scarcely be cut too small, as nothing like a lump or fibre should be anywhere perceptible. To conclude, the flavour of no one spice or herb should be permitted to predominate. RECIPES. CHAPTER X. SAUCES, PICKLES, GRAVIES, AND FORCEMEATS. ANCHOVY SAUCE FOR FISH. 362. INGREDIENTS.--4 anchovies, 1 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of melted butter, cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Bone the anchovies, and pound them in a mortar to a paste, with 1 oz. of butter. Make the melted butter hot, stir in the pounded anchovies and cayenne; simmer for 3 or 4 minutes; and if liked, add a squeeze of lemon-juice. A more general and expeditious way of making this sauce is to stir in 1-1/2 tablespoonfuls of anchovy essence to 1/2 pint of melted butter, and to add seasoning to taste. Boil the whole up for 1 minute, and serve hot. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Average cost_, 5d. for 1/2 pint. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for a brill, small turbot, 3 or 4 soles, &c. ANCHOVY BUTTER (_see_ No. 227). [Illustration: THE CAPISCUM.] CAYENNE.--This is the most acrid and stimulating spice with which we are acquainted. It is a powder prepared from several varieties of the capsicum annual East-India plants, of which there are three so far naturalized in this country as to be able to grow in the open air: these are the Guinea, the Cherry, and the Bell pepper. All the pods of these are extremely pungent to the taste, and in the green state are used by us as a pickle. When ripe, they are ground into cayenne pepper, and sold as a condiment. The best of this, however, is made in the West Indies, from what is called the _Bird_ pepper, on account of hens and turkeys being extremely partial to it. It is imported ready for use. Of the capiscum species of plants there are five; but the principal are,--1. _Capsicum annuum_, the common long-podded capsicum, which is cultivated in our gardens, and of which there are two varieties, one with red, and another with yellow fruit. 2. _Capsicum baccatum_, or bird pepper, which rises with a shrubby stalk four or five feet high, with its berries growing at the division of the branches: this is small, oval-shaped, and of a bright-red colour, from which, as we have said, the best cayenne is made. 3. _Capsicum grossum_, the bell-pepper: the fruit of this is red, and is the only kind fit for pickling. APPLE SAUCE FOR GEESE, PORK, &c. 363. INGREDIENTS.--6 good-sized apples, sifted sugar to taste, a piece of butter the size of a walnut, water. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and quarter the apples, and throw them into cold water to preserve their whiteness. Put them in a saucepan, with sufficient water to moisten them, and boil till soft enough to pulp. Beat them up, adding sugar to taste, and a small piece of butter This quantity is sufficient for a good-sized tureen. _Time_.--According to the apples, about 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for a goose or couple of ducks. BROWN APPLE SAUCE. 364. INGREDIENTS.--6 good-sized apples, 1/2 pint of brown gravy, cayenne to taste. _Mode_. Put the gravy in a stewpan, and add the apples, after having pared, cored, and quartered them. Let them simmer gently till tender; beat them to a pulp, and season with cayenne. This sauce is preferred by many to the preceding. _Time_.--According to the apples, about 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. ASPARAGUS SAUCE. 365. INGREDIENTS.--1 bunch of green asparagus, salt, 1 oz. of fresh butter, 1 small bunch of parsley, 3 or 4 green onions, 1 large lump of sugar, 4 tablespoonfuls of sauce tournée. _Mode_.--Break the asparagus in the tender part, wash well, and put them into boiling salt and water to render them green. When they are tender, take them out, and put them into cold water; drain them on a cloth till all moisture is absorbed from them. Put the butter in a stewpan, with the parsley and onions; lay in the asparagus, and fry the whole over a sharp fire for 5 minutes. Add salt, the sugar and sauce tournée, and simmer for another 5 minutes. Rub all through a tammy, and if not a very good colour, use a little spinach green. This sauce should be rather sweet. _Time_.--Altogether 40 minutes. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 1s. 4d. ASPIC, or ORNAMENTAL SAVOURY JELLY. 366. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of knuckle of veal, 1 cow-heel, 3 or 4 slices of ham, any poultry trimmings, 2 carrots, 1 onion, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, 1 glass of sherry, 3 quarts of water; seasoning to taste of salt and whole white pepper; 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Lay the ham on the bottom of a stewpan, cut up the veal and cow-heel into small pieces, and lay them on the ham; add the poultry trimmings, vegetables, herbs, sherry, and water, and let the whole simmer very gently for 4 hours, carefully taking away all scum that may rise to the surface; strain through a fine sieve, and pour into an earthen pan to get cold. Have ready a clean stewpan, put in the jelly, and be particular to leave the sediment behind, or it will not be clear. Add the whites of 3 eggs, with salt and pepper, to clarify; keep stirring over the fire, till the whole becomes very white; then draw it to the side, and let it stand till clear. When this is the case, strain it through a cloth or jelly-bag, and use it for moulding poultry, etc. (See Explanation of French Terms, page 44.) Tarragon vinegar may be added to give an additional flavour. _Time_.--Altogether 4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 4s. WHITE PEPPER.--This is the produce of the same plant as that which produces the black pepper, from which it is manufactured by steeping this in lime and water, and rubbing it between the hands till the coats come off. The best berries only will bear this operation; hence the superior qualities of white pepper fetch a higher price than those of the other. It is less acrid than the black, and is much prized among the Chinese. It is sometimes adulterated with rice-flour, as the black is with burnt bread. The berries of the pepper-plant grow in spikes of from twenty to thirty, and are, when ripe, of a bright-red colour. After being gathered, which is done when they are green, they are spread out in the sun, where they dry and become black and shrivelled, when they are ready for being prepared for the market. BECHAMEL, or FRENCH WHITE SAUCE. 367. INGREDIENTS.--1 small bunch of parsley, 2 cloves, 1/2 bay-leaf, 1 small faggot of savoury herbs, salt to taste; 3 or 4 mushrooms, when obtainable; 2 pints of white stock, 1 pint of cream, 1 tablespoonful of arrowroot. _Mode_.--Put the stock into a stewpan, with the parsley, cloves, bay-leaf, herbs, and mushrooms; add a seasoning of salt, but no pepper, as that would give the sauce a dusty appearance, and should be avoided. When it has boiled long enough to extract the flavour of the herbs, etc., strain it, and boil it up quickly again, until it is nearly half-reduced. Now mix the arrowroot smoothly with the cream, and let it simmer very gently for 5 minutes over a slow fire; pour to it the reduced stock, and continue to simmer slowly for 10 minutes, if the sauce be thick. If, on the contrary, it be too thin, it must be stirred over a sharp fire till it thickens. This is the foundation of many kinds of sauces, especially white sauces. Always make it thick, as you can easily thin it with cream, milk, or white stock. _Time_.--Altogether, 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. per pint. [Illustration: THE CLOVE.] THE CLOVE.--The clove-tree is a native of the Molucca Islands, particularly Amboyna, and attains the height of a laurel-tree, and no verdure is ever seen under it. From the extremities of the branches quantities of flowers grow, first white; then they become green, and next red and hard, when they have arrived at their clove state. When they become dry, they assume a yellowish hue, which subsequently changes into a dark brown. As an aromatic, the clove is highly stimulating, and yields an abundance of oil. There are several varieties of the clove; the best is called the _royal clove_, which is scarce, and which is blacker and smaller than the other kinds. It is a curious fact, that the flowers, when fully developed, are quite inodorous, and that the real fruit is not in the least aromatic. The form is that of a nail, having a globular head, formed of the four petals of the corolla, and four leaves of the calyx not expanded, with a nearly cylindrical germen, scarcely an inch in length, situate below. BECHAMEL MAIGRE, or WITHOUT MEAT. 368. INGREDIENTS.--2 onions, 1 blade of mace, mushroom trimmings, a small bunch of parsley, 1 oz. of butter, flour, 1/2 pint of water, 1 pint of milk, salt, the juice of 1 lemon, 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Put in a stewpan the milk, and 1/2 pint of water, with the onions, mace, mushrooms, parsley, and salt. Let these simmer gently for 20 minutes. In the mean time, rub on a plate 1 oz. of flour and butter; put it to the liquor, and stir it well till it boils up; then place it by the side of the fire, and continue stirring until it is perfectly smooth. Now strain it through a sieve into a basin, after which put it back in the stewpan, and add the lemon-juice. Beat up the yolks of the eggs with about 4 dessertspoonfuls of milk; strain this to the sauce, keep stirring it over the fire, but do not let it boil, lest it curdle. _Time_.--Altogether, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 5d. per pint. This is a good sauce to pour over boiled fowls when they are a bad colour. PICKLED BEETROOT. 369. INGREDIENTS.--Sufficient vinegar to cover the beets, 2 oz. of whole pepper, 2 oz. of allspice to each gallon of vinegar. _Mode_.--Wash the beets free from dirt, and be very careful not to prick the outside skin, or they would lose their beautiful colour. Put them into boiling water, let them simmer gently, and when about three parts done, which will be in 1-1/2 hour, take them out and let them cool. Boil the vinegar with pepper and allspice, in the above proportion, for ten minutes, and when cold, pour it on the beets, which must be peeled and cut into slices about 1/2 inch thick. Cover with bladder to exclude the air, and in a week they will be fit for use. _Average cost_, 3s. per gallon. [Illustration: BLACK PEPPER.] BLACK PEPPER.--This well-known aromatic spice is the fruit of a species of climbing vine, and is a native of the East Indies, and is extensively cultivated in Malabar and the eastern islands of Borneo, Sumatra, and Java, and others in the same latitude. It was formerly confined to these countries, but it has now been introduced to Cayenne. It is generally employed as a condiment; but it should never be forgotten, that, even in small quantities, it produces detrimental effects on inflammatory constitutions. Dr. Paris, in his work on Diet, says, "Foreign spices were not intended by Nature for the inhabitants of temperate climes; they are heating, and highly stimulant. I am, however, not anxious to give more weight to this objection than it deserves. Man is no longer the child of Nature, nor the passive inhabitant of any particular region. He ranges over every part of the globe, and elicits nourishment from the productions of every climate. Nature is very kind in favouring the growth of those productions which are most likely to answer our local wants. Those climates, for instance, which engender endemic diseases, are, in general, congenial to the growth of plants that operate as antidotes to them. But if we go to the East for tea, there is no reason why we should not go to the West for sugar. The dyspeptic invalid, however, should be cautious in their use; they may afford temporary benefit, at the expense of permanent mischief. It has been well said, that the best quality of spices is to stimulate the appetite, and their worst to destroy, by insensible degrees, the tone of the stomach. The intrinsic goodness of meats should always be suspected when they require spicy seasonings to compensate for their natural want of sapidity." The quality of pepper is known by rubbing it between the hands: that which withstands this operation is good, that which is reduced to powder by it is bad. The quantity of pepper imported into Europe is very great. BENTON SAUCE (to serve with Hot or Cold Roast Beef). 370. INGREDIENTS.--1 tablespoonful of scraped horseradish, 1 teaspoonful of made mustard, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 4 tablespoonfuls of vinegar. _Mode_.--Grate or scrape the horseradish very fine, and mix it with the other ingredients, which must be all well blended together; serve in a tureen. With cold meat, this sauce is a very good substitute for pickles. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 2d. BREAD SAUCE (to serve with Roast Turkey, Fowl, Game, &c.). I. 371. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 3/4 of the crumb of a stale loaf, 1 onion; pounded mace, cayenne, and salt to taste; 1 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Peel and quarter the onion, and simmer it in the milk till perfectly tender. Break the bread, which should be stale, into small pieces, carefully picking out any hard outside pieces; put it in a very clean saucepan, strain the milk over it, cover it up, and let it remain for an hour to soak. Now beat it up with a fork very smoothly, add a seasoning of pounded mace, cayenne, and salt, with 1 oz. of butter; give the whole one boil, and serve. To enrich this sauce, a small quantity of cream may be added just before sending it to table. _Time_.--Altogether, 1-3/4 hour. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 4d. _Sufficient_ to serve with a turkey, pair of fowls, or brace of partridges. [Illustration: MACE.] MACE.--This is the membrane which surrounds the shell of the nutmeg. Its general qualities are the same as those of the nutmeg, producing an agreeable aromatic odour, with a hot and acrid taste. It is of an oleaginous nature, is yellowish in its hue, and is used largely as a condiment. In "Beeton's Dictionary" we find that the four largest of the Banda Islands produce 150,000 lbs. of it annually, which, with nutmegs, are their principal articles of export. II. 372. INGREDIENTS.--Giblets of poultry, 3/4 lb. of the crumb of a stale loaf, 1 onion, 12 whole peppers, 1 blade of mace, salt to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream or melted butter, 1 pint of water. _Mode_.--Put the giblets, with the head, neck, legs, &c., into a stewpan; add the onion, pepper, mace, salt, and rather more than 1 pint of water. Let this simmer for an hour, when strain the liquor over the bread, which should be previously grated or broken into small pieces. Cover up the saucepan, and leave it for an hour by the side of the fire; then beat the sauce up with a fork until no lumps remain, and the whole is nice and smooth. Let it boil for 3 or 4 minutes; keep stirring it until it is rather thick; when add 3 tablespoonfuls of good melted butter or cream, and serve very hot. _Time_.--2-1/4 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. BROWNING FOR GRAVIES AND SAUCES. 373. The browning for soups (_see_ No. 108) answers equally well for sauces and gravies, when it is absolutely necessary to colour them in this manner; but where they can be made to look brown by using ketchup, wine, browned flour, tomatoes, or any colour sauce, it is far preferable. As, however, in cooking, so much depends on appearance, perhaps it would be as well for the inexperienced cook to use the artificial means (No. 108). When no browning is at hand, and you wish to heighten the colour of your gravy, dissolve a lump of sugar in an iron spoon over a sharp fire; when it is in a liquid state, drop it into the sauce or gravy quite hot. Care, however, must be taken not to put in too much, as it would impart a very disagreeable flavour. BEURRE NOIR, or BROWNED BUTTER (a French Sauce). 374. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, 3 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Put the butter into a fryingpan over a nice clear fire, and when it smokes, throw in the parsley, and add the vinegar and seasoning. Let the whole simmer for a minute or two, when it is ready to serve. This is a very good sauce for skate. _Time_.--1/4 hour. CLARIFIED BUTTER. 375. Put the butter in a basin before the fire, and when it melts, stir it round once or twice, and let it settle. Do not strain it unless absolutely necessary, as it causes so much waste. Pour it gently off into a clean dry jar, carefully leaving all sediment behind. Let it cool, and carefully exclude the air by means of a bladder, or piece of wash-leather, tied over. If the butter is salt, it may be washed before melting, when it is to be used for sweet dishes. MELTED BUTTER. I. 376. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, a dessertspoonful of flour, 1 wineglassful of water, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the butter up into small pieces, put it in a saucepan, dredge over the flour, and add the water and a seasoning of salt; stir it _one way_ constantly till the whole of the ingredients are melted and thoroughly blended. Let it just boil, when it is ready to serve. If the butter is to be melted with cream, use the same quantity as of water, but omit the flour; keep stirring it, but do not allow it to boil. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 4d. II. _(More Economical.)_ 377. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of butter, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, salt to taste, 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Mix the flour and water to a smooth batter, which put into a saucepan. Add the butter and a seasoning of salt, keep stirring _one way_ till all the ingredients are melted and perfectly smooth; let the whole boil for a minute or two, and serve. _Time_.--2 minutes to simmer. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 2d. MELTED BUTTER (the French Sauce Blanche). 378. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 1 tablespoonful of flour, salt to taste, 1/2 gill of water, 1/2 spoonful of white vinegar, a very little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Mix the flour and water to a smooth batter, carefully rubbing down with the back of a spoon any lumps that may appear. Put it in a saucepan with all the other ingredients, and let it thicken on the fire, but do not allow it to boil, lest it should taste of the flour. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_, 5d. for this quantity. [Illustration: THE NUTMEG.] NUTMEG.--This is a native of the Moluccas, and was long kept from being spread in other places by the monopolizing spirit of the Dutch, who endeavoured to keep it wholly to themselves by eradicating it from every other island. We find it stated in "Beeton's Dictionary of Universal Information," under the article "Banda Islands," that the four largest are appropriated to the cultivation of nutmegs, of which about 500,000 lbs. are annually produced. The plant, through the enterprise of the British, has now found its way into Penang and Bencooleu, where it flourishes and produces well. It has also been tried to be naturalized in the West Indies, and it bears fruit all the year round. There are two kinds of nutmeg,--one wild, and long and oval-shaped, the other cultivated, and nearly round. The best is firm and hard, and has a strong aromatic odour, with a hot and acrid taste. It ought to be used with caution by those who are of paralytic or apoplectic habits. THICKENED BUTTER. 379.--INGREDIENTS.--1/4 pint of melted butter, No. 376, the yolks of 2 eggs, a little lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Make the butter quite hot, and be careful not to colour it. Well whisk the yolks of the eggs, pour them to the butter, beating them all the while. Make the sauce hot over the fire, but do not let it boil; add a squeeze of lemon-juice. MELTED BUTTER MADE WITH MILK. 380. INGREDIENTS.--1 teaspoonful of flour, 2 oz. butter, 1/3 pint of milk, a few grains of salt. _Mode_.--Mix the butter and flour smoothly together on a plate, put it into a lined saucepan, and pour in the milk. Keep stirring it _one way_ over a sharp fire; let it boil quickly for a minute or two, and it is ready to serve. This is a very good foundation for onion, lobster, or oyster sauce: using milk instead of water makes it look so much whiter and more delicate. _Time_.--Altogether, 10 minutes. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 3d. CAMP VINEGAR. 381. INGREDIENTS.--1 head of garlic, 1/2 oz. cayenne, 2 teaspoonfuls of soy, 2 ditto walnut ketchup, 1 pint of vinegar, cochineal to colour. _Mode_.--Slice the garlic, and put it, with all the above ingredients, into a clean bottle. Let it stand to infuse for a month, when strain it off quite clear, and it will be fit for use. Keep it in small bottles well sealed, to exclude the air. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 8d. CAPER SAUCE FOR BOILED MUTTON. 382. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter (No. 376), 3 tablespoonfuls of capers or nasturtiums, 1 tablespoonful of their liquor. _Mode_.--Chop the capers twice or thrice, and add them, with their liquor, to 1/2 pint of melted butter, made very smoothly; keep stirring well; let the sauce just simmer, and serve in a tureen. Pickled nasturtium-pods are fine-flavoured, and by many are eaten in preference to capers. They make an excellent sauce. _Time_.--2 minutes to simmer. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 8d. _Sufficient_ to serve with a leg of mutton. CAPER SAUCE FOR FISH. 383. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter No. 376, 3 dessertspoonfuls of capers, 1 dessertspoonful of their liquor, a small piece of glaze, if at hand (this may be dispensed with), 1/4 teaspoonful of salt, ditto of pepper, 1 tablespoonful of anchovy essence. _Mode_.--Cut the capers across once or twice, but do not chop them fine; put them in a saucepan with 1/2 pint of good melted butter, and add all the other ingredients. Keep stirring the whole until it just simmers, when it is ready to serve. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 5d. _Sufficient_ to serve with a skate, or 2 or 3 slices of salmon. [Illustration: THE CAPER.] CAPERS.--These are the unopened buds of a low trailing shrub, which grows wild among the crevices of the rocks of Greece, as well as in northern Africa: the plant, however, has come to be cultivated in the south of Europe. After being pickled in vinegar and salt, they are imported from Sicily, Italy, and the south of France. The best are from Toulon. A SUBSTITUTE FOR CAPER SAUCE. 384. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter, No. 376, 2 tablespoonfuls of cut parsley, 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, 1 tablespoonful of vinegar. _Mode_.--Boil the parsley slowly to let it become a bad colour; cut, but do not chop it fine. Add it to 1/2 pint of smoothly-made melted butter, with salt and vinegar in the above proportions. Boil up and serve. _Time_.--2 minutes to simmer. Average cost for this quantity, 3d. PICKLED CAPSICUMS. 385. INGREDIENTS.--Vinegar, 1/4 oz. of pounded mace, and 1/4 oz. of grated nutmeg, to each quart; brine. _Mode_.--Gather the pods with the stalks on, before they turn red; slit them down the side with a small-pointed knife, and remove the seeds only; put them in a strong brine for 3 days, changing it every morning; then take them out, lay them on a cloth, with another one over them, until they are perfectly free from moisture. Boil sufficient vinegar to cover them, with mace and nutmeg in the above proportions; put the pods in a jar, pour over the vinegar when cold, and exclude them from the air by means of a wet bladder tied over. CAYENNE VINEGAR, or ESSENCE OF CAYENNE. 386. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 oz. of cayenne pepper, 1/2 pint of strong spirit, or 1 pint of vinegar. _Mode_.--Put the vinegar, or spirit, into a bottle, with the above proportion of cayenne, and let it steep for a month, when strain off and bottle for use. This is excellent seasoning for soups or sauces, but must be used very sparingly. CELERY SAUCE, FOR BOILED TURKEY, POULTRY, &c. 387. INGREDIENTS.--6 heads of celery, 1 pint of white stock, No. 107, 2 blades of mace, 1 small bunch of savoury herbs; thickening of butter and flour, or arrowroot, 1/2 pint of cream, lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Boil the celery in salt and water, until tender, and cut it into pieces 2 inches long. Put the stock into a stewpan with the mace and herbs, and let it simmer for 1/2 hour to extract their flavour. Then strain the liquor, add the celery and a thickening of butter kneaded with flour, or, what is still better, with arrowroot; just before serving, put in the cream, boil it up and squeeze in a little lemon-juice. If necessary, add a seasoning of salt and white pepper. _Time_.--25 minutes to boil the celery. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for a boiled turkey. This sauce may be made brown by using gravy instead of white stock, and flavouring it with mushroom ketchup or Harvey's sauce. [Illustration: ARROWROOT.] ARROWROOT.--This nutritious fecula is obtained from the roots of a plant which is cultivated in both the East and West Indies. When the roots are about a year old, they are dug up, and, after being well washed, are beaten to a pulp, which is afterwards, by means of water, separated from the fibrous part. After being passed through a sieve, once more washed, and then suffered to settle, the sediment is dried in the sun, when it has become arrowroot. The best is obtained from the West Indies, but a large quantity of what is sold in London is adulterated with potato-starch. As a means of knowing arrowroot when it is good, it may be as well to state, that the genuine article, when formed into a jelly, will remain firm for three or four days, whilst the adulterated will become as thin as milk in the course of twelve hours. CELERY SAUCE (a More Simple Recipe). 388. INGREDIENTS.--4 heads of celery, 1/2 pint of melted butter, made with milk (No. 380), 1 blade of pounded mace; salt and white pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Wash the celery, boil it in salt and water till tender, and cut it into pieces 2 inches long; make 1/2 pint melted butter by recipe No. 380; put in the celery, pounded mace, and seasoning; simmer for three minutes, when the sauce will be ready to serve. _Time_.--25 minutes to boil the celery. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for a boiled fowl. CELERY VINEGAR. 389. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 oz. of celery-seed, 1 pint of vinegar. _Mode_.--Crush the seed by pounding it in a mortar; boil the vinegar, and when cold, pour it to the seed; let it infuse for a fortnight, when strain and bottle off for use. This is frequently used in salads. CHESTNUT SAUCE FOR FOWLS OR TURKEY. 390. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of chestnuts, 1/2 pint of white stock, 2 strips of lemon-peel, cayenne to taste, 1/4 pint of cream or milk. _Mode_.--Peel off the outside skin of the chestnuts, and put them into boiling water for a few minutes; take off the thin inside peel, and put them into a saucepan, with the white stock and lemon-peel, and let them simmer for 1-1/2 hour, or until the chestnuts are quite tender. Rub the whole through a hair-sieve with a wooden spoon; add seasoning and the cream; let it just simmer, but not boil, and keep stirring all the time. Serve very hot; and quickly. If milk is used instead of cream, a very small quantity of thickening may be required: that, of course, the cook will determine. _Time_.--Altogether nearly two hours. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for a turkey. BROWN CHESTNUT SAUCE. 391. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of chestnuts, 1/2 pint of stock No. 105, 2 lumps of sugar, 4 tablespoonfuls of Spanish sauce (_see_ Sauces). _Mode_.--Prepare the chestnuts as in the foregoing recipe, by scalding and peeling them; put them in a stewpan with the stock and sugar, and simmer them till tender. When done, add Spanish sauce in the above proportion, and rub the whole through a tammy. Keep this sauce rather liquid, as it is liable to thicken. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour to simmer the chestnuts. _Average cost_, 8d. BENGAL RECIPE FOR MAKING MANGO CHETNEY. 392. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lbs. of moist sugar, 3/4 lb. of salt, 1/4 lb. of garlic, 1/4 lb. of onions, 3/4 lb. of powdered ginger, 1/4 lb. of dried chilies, 3/4 lb. of mustard-seed, 3/4 lb. of stoned raisins, 2 bottles of best vinegar, 30 large unripe sour apples. _Mode_.--The sugar must be made into syrup; the garlic, onions, and ginger be finely pounded in a mortar; the mustard-seed be washed in cold vinegar, and dried in the sun; the apples be peeled, cored, and sliced, and boiled in a bottle and a half of the vinegar. When all this is done, and the apples are quite cold, put them into a large pan, and gradually mix the whole of the rest of the ingredients, including the remaining half-bottle of vinegar. It must be well stirred until the whole is thoroughly blended, and then put into bottles for use. Tie a piece of wet bladder over the mouths of the bottles, after they are well corked. This chetney is very superior to any which can be bought, and one trial will prove it to be delicious. _Note_.--This recipe was given by a native to an English lady, who had long been a resident in India, and who, since her return to her native country, has become quite celebrated amongst her friends for the excellence of this Eastern relish. [Illustration: GARLIC.] GARLIC.--The smell of this plant is generally considered offensive, and it is the most acrimonious in its taste of the whole of the alliaceous tribe. In 1548 it was introduced to England from the shores of the Mediterranean, where it is abundant, and in Sicily it grows naturally. It was in greater repute with our ancestors than it is with ourselves, although it is still used as a seasoning herb. On the continent, especially in Italy, it is much used, and the French consider it an essential in many made dishes. CHILI VINEGAR. 393. INGREDIENTS.--50 fresh red English chilies, 1 pint of vinegar. _Mode_.--Pound or cut the chilies in half, and infuse them in the vinegar for a fortnight, when it will be fit for use. This will be found an agreeable relish to fish, as many people cannot eat it without the addition of an acid and cayenne pepper. CHRISTOPHER NORTH'S SAUCE FOR MEAT OR GAME. 394. INGREDIENTS.-1 glass of port wine, 2 tablespoonfuls of Harvey's sauce, 1 dessertspoonful of mushroom ketchup, ditto of pounded white sugar, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1/4 teaspoonful of cayenne pepper, ditto of salt. _Mode_.--Mix all the ingredients thoroughly together, and heat the sauce gradually, by placing the vessel in which it is made in a saucepan of boiling water. Do not allow it to boil, and serve directly it is ready. This sauce, if bottled immediately, will keep good for a fortnight, and will be found excellent. CONSOMME, or WHITE STOCK FOR MANY SAUCES. 395. Consommé is made precisely in the same manner as stock No. 107, and, for ordinary purposes, will be found quite good enough. When, however, a stronger stock is desired, either put in half the quantity of water, or double that of the meat. This is a very good foundation for all white sauces. CRAB SAUCE FOR FISH (equal to Lobster Sauce). 396. INGREDIENTS.--1 crab; salt, pounded mace, and cayenne to taste; 1/2 pint of melted butter made with milk (_see_ No. 380). _Mode_.--Choose a nice fresh crab, pick all the meat away from the shell, and cut it into small square pieces. Make 1/2 pint of melted butter by recipe No. 380, put in the fish and seasoning; let it gradually warm through, and simmer for 2 minutes. It should not boil. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. CREAM SAUCE FOR FISH OR WHITE DISHES. 397. INGREDIENTS.--1/3 pint of cream, 2 oz. of butter, 1 teaspoonful of flour, salt and cayenne to taste; when liked, a small quantity of pounded mace or lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Put the butter in a very clean saucepan, dredge in the flour, and keep shaking round till the butter is melted. Add the seasoning and cream, and stir the whole till it boils; let it just simmer for 5 minutes, when add either pounded mace or lemon-juice to taste, to give it a flavour. _Time_.--5 minutes to simmer. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 7d. This sauce may be flavoured with very finely-shredded shalot. CUCUMBER SAUCE. 398. INGREDIENTS.--3 or 4 cucumbers, 2 oz. of butter, 6 tablespoonfuls of brown gravy. _Mode_.--Peel the cucumbers, quarter them, and take out the seeds; cut them into small pieces; put them in a cloth, and rub them well, to take out the water which hangs about them. Put the butter in a saucepan, add the cucumbers, and shake them over a sharp fire until they are of a good colour. Then pour over it the gravy, mix this with the cucumbers, and simmer gently for 10 minutes, when it will be ready to serve. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. PICKLED CUCUMBERS. 399. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of whole pepper, 1 oz. of bruised ginger; sufficient vinegar to cover the cucumbers. _Mode_.--Cut the cucumbers in thick slices, sprinkle salt over them, and let them remain for 24 hours. The next day, drain them well for 6 hours, put them into a jar, pour boiling vinegar over them, and keep them in a warm place. In a short time, boil up the vinegar again, add pepper and ginger in the above proportion, and instantly cover them up. Tie them down with bladder, and in a few days they will be fit for use. [Illustration: LONG PEPPER.] LONG PEPPER.--This is the produce of a different plant from that which produces the black, it consisting of the half-ripe flower-heads of what naturalists call _Piper longum_ and _chaba_. It is the growth, however, of the same countries; indeed, all the spices are the produce of tropical climates only. Originally, the most valuable of these were found in the Spice Islands, or Moluccas, of the Indian Ocean, and were highly prized by the nations of antiquity. The Romans indulged in them to a most extravagant degree. The long pepper is less aromatic than the black, but its oil is more pungent. CUCUMBER SAUCE, WHITE. 400. INGREDIENTS.--3 or four cucumbers, 1/2 pint of white stock, No. 107, cayenne and salt to taste, the yolks of 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Cut the cucumbers into small pieces, after peeling them and taking out the seeds. Put them in a stewpan with the white stock and seasoning; simmer gently till the cucumbers are tender, which will be in about 1/4 hour. Then add the yolks of the eggs well beaten; stir them to the sauce, but do not allow it to boil, and serve very hot. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. CUCUMBER VINEGAR (a very nice Addition to Salads). 401. INGREDIENTS.--10 large cucumbers, or 12 smaller ones, 1 quart of vinegar, 2 onions, 2 shalots, 1 tablespoonful of salt, 2 tablespoonfuls of pepper, 1/4 teaspoonful of cayenne. _Mode_.--Pare and slice the cucumbers, put them in a stone jar or wide-mouthed bottle, with the vinegar; slice the onions and shalots, and add them, with all the other ingredients, to the cucumbers. Let it stand 4 or 5 days, boil it all up, and when cold, strain the liquor through a piece of muslin, and store it away in small bottles well sealed. This vinegar is a very nice addition to gravies, hashes, &e., as well as a great improvement to salads, or to eat with cold meat. GERMAN METHOD OF KEEPING CUCUMBERS FOR WINTER USE. 402. INGREDIENTS.--Cucumbers, salt. _Mode_.--Pare and slice the cucumbers (as for the table), sprinkle well with salt, and let them remain for 24 hours; strain off the liquor, pack in jars, a thick layer of cucumbers and salt alternately; tie down closely, and, when wanted for use, take out the quantity required. Now wash them well in fresh water, and dress as usual with pepper, vinegar, and oil. [Illustration: THE CUCUMBER.] THE CUCUMBER.--Though the melon is far superior in point of flavour to this fruit, yet it is allied to the cucumber, which is known to naturalists as _Cucumia sativus_. The modern Egyptians, as did their forefathers, still eat it, and others of its class. Cucumbers were observed, too, by Bishop Heber, beyond the Ganges, in India; and Burckhardt noticed them in Palestine. (See No. 127.) AN EXCELLENT WAY OF PRESERVING CUCUMBERS. 403. INGREDIENTS.--Salt and water; 1 lb. of lump sugar, the rind of 1 lemon, 1 oz. of ginger, cucumbers. _Mode_.--Choose the greenest cucumbers, and those that are most free from seeds; put them in strong salt and water, with a cabbage-leaf to keep them down; tie a paper over them, and put them in a warm place till they are yellow; then wash them and set them over the fire in fresh water, with a very little salt, and another cabbage-leaf over them; cover very closely, but take care they do not boil. If they are not a fine green, change the water again, cover them as before, and make them hot. When they are a good colour, take them off the fire and let them cool; cut them in quarters, take out the seeds and pulp, and put them into cold water. Let them remain for 2 days, changing the water twice each day, to draw out the salt. Put the sugar, with 1/4 pint of water, in a saucepan over the fire; remove the scum as it rises, and add the lemon-peel and ginger with the outside scraped off; when the syrup is tolerably thick, take it off the fire, and when _cold_, wipe the cucumbers _dry_, and put them in. Boil the syrup once in 2 or 3 days for 3 weeks; strengthen it if required, and let it be quite cold before the cucumbers are put in. Great attention must be paid to the directions in the commencement of this recipe, as, if these are not properly carried out, the result will be far from satisfactory. _Seasonable_.--This recipe should be used in June, July, or August. [Illustration: SALT-MINE AT NORTHWICH.] COMMON SALT.--By this we mean salt used for cooking purposes, which is found in great abundance both on land and in the waters of the ocean. Sea or salt water, as it is often called, contains, it has been discovered, about three per cent, of salt on an average. Solid rocks of salt are also found in various parts of the world, and the county of Chester contains many of these mines, and it is from there that much of our salt comes. Some springs are so highly impregnated with salt, as to have received the name of "brine" springs, and are supposed to have become so by passing through the salt rocks below ground, and thus dissolving a portion of this mineral substance. We here give an engraving of a salt-mine at Northwich, Cheshire, where both salt-mines and brine-springs are exceedingly productive, and are believed to have been wrought so far back as during the occupation of Britain by the Romans. CUSTARD SAUCE FOR SWEET PUDDINGS OR TARTS. 404. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 2 eggs, 3 oz. of pounded sugar, 1 tablespoonful of brandy. _Mode_.--Put the milk in a very clean saucepan, and let it boil. Beat the eggs, stir to them the milk and pounded sugar, and put the mixture into a jug. Place the jug in a saucepan of boiling water; keep stirring well until it thickens, but do not allow it to boil, or it will curdle. Serve the sauce in a tureen, stir in the brandy, and grate a little nutmeg over the top. This sauce may be made very much nicer by using cream instead of milk; but the above recipe will be found quite good enough for ordinary purposes. _Average cost_, 6d. per pint. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for 2 fruit tarts, or 1 pudding. DUTCH SAUCE FOR FISH. 405. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 teaspoonful of flour, 2 oz. of butter, 4 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, the yolks of 2 eggs, the juice of 1/2 lemon; salt to taste. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients, except the lemon-juice, into a stew-pan; set it over the fire, and keep continually stirring. When it is sufficiently thick, take it off, as it should not boil. If, however, it happens to curdle, strain the sauce through a tammy, add the lemon-juice, and serve. Tarragon vinegar may be used instead of plain, and, by many, is considered far preferable. _Average cost_, 6d. Note.--This sauce may be poured hot over salad, and left to get quite cold, when it should be thick, smooth, and somewhat stiff. Excellent salads may be made of hard eggs, or the remains of salt fish flaked nicely from the bone, by pouring over a little of the above mixture when hot, and allowing it to cool. [Illustration: THE LEMON.] THE LEMON.--This fruit is a native of Asia, and is mentioned by Virgil as an antidote to poison. It is hardier than the orange, and, as one of the citron tribe, was brought into Europe by the Arabians. The lemon was first cultivated in England in the beginning of the 17th century, and is now often to be found in our green-houses. The kind commonly sold, however, is imported from Portugal, Spain, and the Azores. Some also come from St. Helena; but those from Spain are esteemed the best. Its juice is now an essential for culinary purposes; but as an antiscorbutic its value is still greater. This juice, which is called _citric acid_, may be preserved in bottles for a considerable time, by covering it with a thin stratum of oil. _Shrub_ is made from it with rum and sugar. GREEN DUTCH SAUCE, or HOLLANDAISE VERTE. 406. INGREDIENTS.--6 tablespoonfuls of Béchamel, No. 367, seasoning to taste of salt and cayenne, a little parsley-green to colour, the juice of 1/2 a lemon. _Mode_.--Put the Béchamel into a saucepan with the seasoning, and bring it to a boil. Make a green colouring by pounding some parsley in a mortar, and squeezing all the juice from it. Let this just simmer, when add it to the sauce. A moment before serving, put in the lemon-juice, but not before; for otherwise the sauce would turn yellow, and its appearance be thus spoiled. _Average cost_, 4d. BÉCHAMEL SAUCE--This sauce takes its name from a Monsieur Béchamel, a rich French financier, who, according to Borne authorities, invented it; whilst others affirm he only patronized it. Be this as it may, it is one of the most pleasant sauces which come to table, and should be most carefully and intelligently prepared. It is frequently used, as in the above recipe, as a principal ingredient and basis for other sauces. TO PICKLE EGGS. 407. INGREDIENTS.--16 eggs, 1 quart of vinegar, 1/2 oz. of Black pepper, 1/2 oz. of Jamaica pepper, 1/2 oz. of ginger. _Mode_.--Boil the eggs for 12 minutes, then dip them into cold water, and take off the shells. Put the vinegar, with the pepper and ginger, into a stewpan, and let it simmer for 10 minutes. Now place the eggs in a jar, pour over them the vinegar, &c., boiling hot, and, when cold, tie them down with bladder to exclude the air. This pickle will be ready for use in a month. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. 9d. _Seasonable_.--This should be made about Easter, as at this time eggs are plentiful and cheap. A store of pickled eggs will be found very useful and ornamental in serving with many first and second course dishes. [Illustration: GINGER.] The ginger-plant, known to naturalists as _Zingiber officinale_, is a native, of the East and West Indies. It grows somewhat like the lily of the valley, but its height is about three feet. In Jamaica it flowers about August or September, fading about the end of the year. The fleshy creeping roots, which form the ginger of commerce, are in a proper state to be dug when the stalks are entirely withered. This operation is usually performed in January and February; and when the roots are taken out of the earth, each one is picked, scraped, separately washed, and afterwards very carefully dried. Ginger is generally considered as less pungent and heating to the system than might he expected from its effects on the organs of taste, and it is frequently used, with considerable effect, as an anti-spasmodic and carminative. EGG BALLS FOR SOUPS AND MADE DISHES. 408. INGREDIENTS.--8 eggs, a little flour; seasoning to taste of salt. _Mode_.--Boil 6 eggs for 20 minutes, strip off the shells, take the yolks and pound them in a mortar. Beat the yolks of the other 2 eggs; add them, with a little flour and salt, to those pounded; mix all well together, and roll into balls. Boil them before they are put into the soup or other dish they may be intended for. _Time_.--20 minutes to boil the eggs. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 8d. _Sufficient_, 2 dozen balls for 1 tureen of soup. EGG SAUCE FOR SALT FISH. 409. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1/2 pint of melted butter, No. 376; when liked, a very little lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Boil the eggs until quite hard, which will be in about 20 minutes, and put them into cold water for 1/2 hour. Strip off the shells, chop the eggs into small pieces, not, however, too fine. Make the melted butter very smoothly, by recipe No. 376, and, when boiling, stir in the eggs, and serve very hot. Lemon-juice may be added at pleasure. _Time_.--20 minutes to boil the eggs. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_.--This quantity for 3 or 4 lbs. of fish. _Note_.--When a thicker sauce is required, use one or two more eggs to the same quantity of melted butter. EPICUREAN SAUCE FOR STEAKS, CHOPS, GRAVIES, OR FISH. 410. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 pint of walnut ketchup, 1/4 pint of mushroom ditto, 2 tablespoonfuls of Indian soy, 2 tablespoonfuls of port wine; 1/4 oz. of white pepper, 2 oz. of shalots, 1/4 oz. of cayenne, 1/4 oz. of cloves, 3/4 pint of vinegar. _Mode_.--Put the whole of the ingredients into a bottle, and let it remain for a fortnight in a warm place, occasionally shaking up the contents. Strain, and bottle off for use. This sauce will be found an agreeable addition to gravies, hashes, stews, &c. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. 6d. [Illustration: SHALOT.] SHALOT, OR ESCHALOT.--This plant is supposed to have been introduced to England by the Crusaders, who found it growing wild in the vicinity of Ascalon. It is a bulbous root, and when full grown, its leaves wither in July. They ought to be taken up in the autumn, and when dried in the house, will keep till spring. It is called by old authors the "barren onion," and is used in sauces and pickles, soups and made dishes, and as an accompaniment to chops and steaks. ESPAGNOLE, OR BROWN SPANISH SAUCE. 411. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of lean ham, 1 lb. of veal, 1-1/2 pint of white stock, No. 107; 2 or 3 sprigs of parsley, 1/2 a bay-leaf, 2 or 3 sprigs of savoury herbs, 6 green onions, 3 shalots, 2 cloves, 1 blade of mace, 2 glasses of sherry or Madeira, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Cut up the ham and veal into small square pieces, and put them into a stewpan. Moisten these with 1/2 pint of the stock No. 107, and simmer till the bottom of the stewpan is covered with a nicely-coloured glaze, when put in a few more spoonfuls to detach it. Add the remainder of the stock, with the spices, herbs, shalots, and onions, and simmer very gently for 1 hour. Strain and skim off every particle of fat, and when required for use, thicken with butter and flour, or with a little roux. Add the wine, and, if necessary, a seasoning of cayenne; when it will be ready to serve. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. per pint. _Note_.--The wine in this sauce may be omitted, and an onion sliced and fried of a nice brown substituted for it. This sauce or gravy is used for many dishes, and with most people is a general favourite. FENNEL SAUCE FOR MACKEREL. 412. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter, No. 376, rather more than 1 tablespoonful of chopped fennel. _Mode_.--Make the melted butter very smoothly, by recipe No. 376; chop the fennel rather small, carefully cleansing it from any grit or dirt, and put it to the butter when this is on the point of boiling. Simmer for a minute or two, and serve in a tureen. _Time_.--2 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ to serve with 5 or 6 mackerel. [Illustration: FENNEL.] FENNEL.--This elegantly-growing plant, of which the Latin name is _Anethum foeniculum_, grows best in chalky soils, where, indeed, it is often found wild. It is very generally cultivated in gardens, and has much improved on its original form. Various dishes are frequently ornamented and garnished with its graceful leaves, and these are sometimes boiled in soups, although it is more usually confined, in English cookery, to the mackerel sauce as here given. FISH SAUCE. 413. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 oz. of cayenne, 2 tablespoonfuls of walnut ketchup, 2 tablespoonfuls of soy, a few shreds of garlic and shalot, 1 quart of vinegar. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a large bottle, and shake well every day for a fortnight. Keep it in small bottles well sealed, and in a few days it will be fit for use. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. FORCEMEAT BALLS FOR FISH SOUPS. 414. INGREDIENTS.--1 middling-sized lobster, 1/2 an anchovy, 1 head of boiled celery, the yolk of a hard-boiled egg; salt, cayenne, and mace to taste; 4 tablespoonfuls of bread crumbs, 2 oz. of butter, 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Pick the meat from the shell of the lobster, and pound it, with the soft parts, in a mortar; add the celery, the yolk of the hard-boiled egg, seasoning, and bread crumbs. Continue pounding till the whole is nicely amalgamated. Warm the butter till it is in a liquid state; well whisk the eggs, and work these up with the pounded lobster-meat. Make into balls of about an inch in diameter, and fry of a nice pale brown. _Sufficient_, from 18 to 20 balls for 1 tureen of soup. FORCEMEAT FOR COLD SAVOURY PIES. 415. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of veal, 1 lb. of fat bacon; salt, cayenne, pepper, and pounded mace to taste; a very little nutmeg, the same of chopped lemon-peel, 1/2 teaspoonful of chopped parsley, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced savoury herbs, 1 or 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Chop the veal and bacon together, and put them in a mortar with the other ingredients mentioned above. Pound well, and bind with 1 or 2 eggs which have been previously beaten and strained. Work the whole well together, and the forcemeat will be ready for use. If the pie is not to be eaten immediately, omit the herbs and parsley, as these would prevent it from keeping. Mushrooms or truffles may be added. _Sufficient_ for 2 small pies. [Illustration: MARJORAM.] MARJORAM.--Although there are several species of marjoram, that which is known as the sweet or knotted marjoram, is the one usually preferred in cookery. It is a native of Portugal, and when its leaves are used as a seasoning herb, they have an agreeable aromatic flavour. The winter sweet marjoram used for the same purposes, is a native of Greece, and the pot-marjoram is another variety brought from Sicily. All of them are favourite ingredients in soups, stuffings, &c. FORCEMEAT FOR PIKE, CARP, HADDOCK, AND VARIOUS KINDS OF FISH. 416. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of fresh butter, 1 oz. of suet, 1 oz. of fat bacon, 1 small teaspoonful of minced savoury herbs, including parsley; a little onion, when liked, shredded very fine; salt, nutmeg, and cayenne to taste; 4 oz. of bread crumbs, 1 egg. _Mode_.--Mix all the ingredients well together, carefully mincing them very finely; beat up the egg, moisten with it, and work the whole very smoothly together. Oysters or anchovies may be added to this forcemeat, and will be found a great improvement. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized haddock or pike. FORCEMEAT FOR VEAL, TURKEYS, FOWLS, HARE, &c. 417. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of ham or lean bacon, 1/4 lb. of suet, the rind of half a lemon, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley, 1 teaspoonful of minced sweet herbs; salt, cayenne, and pounded mace to taste; 6 oz. of bread crumbs, 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Shred the ham or bacon, chop the suet, lemon-peel, and herbs, taking particular care that all be very finely minced; add a seasoning to taste, of salt, cayenne, and mace, and blend all thoroughly together with the bread crumbs, before wetting. Now beat and strain the eggs, work these up with the other ingredients, and the forcemeat will be ready for use. When it is made into balls, fry of a nice brown, in boiling lard, or put them on a tin and bake for 1/2 hour in a moderate oven. As we have stated before, no one flavour should predominate greatly, and the forcemeat should be of sufficient body to cut with a knife, and yet not dry and heavy. For very delicate forcemeat, it is advisable to pound the ingredients together before binding with the egg; but for ordinary cooking, mincing very finely answers the purpose. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for a turkey, a moderate-sized fillet of veal, or a hare. _Note_.--In forcemeat for HARE, the liver of the animal is sometimes added. Boil for 5 minutes, mince it very small, and mix it with the other ingredients. If it should be in an unsound state, it must be on no account made use of. [Illustration: BASIL.] SWEET HERBS.--Those most usually employed for purposes of cooking, such as the flavouring of soups, sauces, forcemeats, &c., are thyme, sage, mint, marjoram, savory, and basil. Other sweet herbs are cultivated for purposes of medicine and perfumery: they are most grateful both to the organs of taste and smelling; and to the aroma derived from them is due, in a great measure, the sweet and exhilarating fragrance of our "flowery meads." In town, sweet herbs have to be procured at the greengrocers' or herbalists', whilst, in the country, the garden should furnish all that are wanted, the cook taking great care to have some dried in the autumn for her use throughout the winter months. FORCEMEAT FOR BAKED PIKE. 418. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of bread crumbs, 1 teaspoonful of minced savoury herbs, 8 oysters, 2 anchovies (these may be dispensed with), 2 oz. of suet; salt, pepper, and pounded mace to taste; 6 tablespoonfuls of cream or milk, the yolks of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Beard and mince the oysters, prepare and mix the other ingredients by recipe No. 416, and blend the whole thoroughly together. Moisten with the cream and eggs, put all into a stewpan, and stir it over the fire till it thickens, when put it into the fish, which should have previously been cut open, and sew it up. _Time_.--4 or 6 minutes to thicken. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized pike. FRENCH FORCEMEAT. 419. It will be well to state, in the beginning of this recipe, that French forcemeat, or quenelles, consist of the blending of three separate processes; namely, panada, udder, and whatever meat you intend using. PANADA. 420. INGREDIENTS.--The crumb of 2 penny rolls, 4 tablespoonfuls of white stock, No. 107, 1 oz. of butter, 1 slice of ham, 1 bay-leaf, a little minced parsley, 2 shalots, 1 clove, 2 blades of mace, a few mushrooms (when obtainable), butter, the yolks of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Soak the crumb of the rolls in milk for about 1/2 hour, then take it out, and squeeze so as to press the milk from it; put the soaked bread into a stewpan with the above quantity of white stock, and set it on one side; then put into a separate stewpan 1 oz. of butter, a slice of lean ham cut small, with a bay-leaf, herbs, mushrooms, spices, &c., in the above proportions, and fry them gently over a slow fire. When done, moisten with 2 teacupfuls of white stock, boil for 20 minutes, and strain the whole through a sieve over the panada in the other stewpan. Place it over the fire, keep constantly stirring, to prevent its burning, and when quite dry, put in a small piece of butter. Let this again dry up by stirring over the fire; then add the yolks of 2 eggs, mix well, put the panada to cool on a clean plate, and use it when required. Panada should always be well flavoured, as the forcemeat receives no taste from any of the other ingredients used in its preparation. Boiled Calf's Udder for French Forcemeats. 421. Put the udder into a stewpan with sufficient water to cover it; let it stew gently till quite done, when take it out to cool. Trim all the upper parts, cut it into small pieces, and pound well in a mortar, till it can be rubbed through a sieve. That portion which passes through the strainer is one of the three ingredients of which French forcemeats are generally composed; but many cooks substitute butter for this, being a less troublesome and more expeditious mode of preparation. [Illustration: PESTLE AND MORTAR.] PESTLE AND MORTAR.--No cookery can be perfectly performed without the aid of the useful instruments shown in the engraving. For pounding things sufficiently fine, they are invaluable, and the use of them will save a good deal of time, besides increasing the excellence of the preparations. They are made of iron, and, in that material, can be bought cheap; but as these are not available, for all purposes, we should recommend, as more economical in the end, those made of Wedgwood, although these are considerably more expensive than the former. Veal Quenelles. 422. INGREDIENTS.--Equal quantities of veal, panada (No. 420), and calf's udder (No. 421), 2 eggs; seasoning to taste of pepper, salt, and pounded mace, or grated nutmeg; a little flour. _Mode_.--Take the fleshy part of veal, scrape it with a knife, till all the meat is separated from the sinews, and allow about 1/2 lb. for an entrée. Chop the meat, and pound it in a mortar till reduced to a paste; then roll it into a ball; make another of panada (No. 420), the same size, and another of udder (No. 421), taking care that these three balls be of the same _size_. It is to be remembered, that equality of _size_, and not of weight, is here necessary. When the three ingredients are properly prepared, pound them altogether in a mortar for some time; for the more quenelles are pounded, the more delicate they are. Now moisten with the eggs, whites and yolks, and continue pounding, adding a seasoning of pepper, spices, &c. When the whole is well blended together, mould it into balls, or whatever shape is intended, roll them in flour, and poach in boiling water, to which a little salt should have been added. If the quenelles are not firm enough, add the yolk of another egg, but omit the white, which only makes them hollow and puffy inside. In the preparation of this recipe, it would be well to bear in mind that the ingredients are to be well pounded and seasoned, and must be made hard or soft according to the dishes they are intended for. For brown or white ragoûts they should be firm, and when the quenelles are used very small, extreme delicacy will be necessary in their preparation. Their flavour may be varied by using the flesh of rabbit, fowl, hare, pheasant, grouse, or an extra quantity of mushroom, parsley, &c. _Time_,--About 1/4 hour to poach in boiling water. _Sufficient_, 1/2 lb. of veal or other meat, with other ingredients in proportion, for 1 entrée. _Note_.--The French are noted for their skill in making forcemeats; one of the principal causes of their superiority in this respect being, that they pound all the ingredients so diligently and thoroughly. Any one with the slightest pretensions to refined cookery, must, in this particular, implicitly follow the example of our friends across the Channel. FORCEMEAT, or QUENELLES, FOR TURTLE SOUP. (_See No_. 189.) 423. SOYER'S RECIPE FOR FORCEMEATS.--Take a pound and a half of lean veal from the fillet, and cut it in long thin slices; scrape with a knife till nothing but the fibre remains; put it in a mortar, pound it 10 minutes, or until in a purée; pass it through a wire sieve (use the remainder in stock); then take 1 pound of good fresh beef suet, which skin, shred, and chop very fine; put it in a mortar and pound it; then add 6 oz. of panada (that is, bread soaked in milk and boiled till nearly dry) with the suet; pound them well together, and add the veal; season with a teaspoonful of salt, a quarter one of pepper, half that of nutmeg; work all well together; then add four eggs by degrees, continually pounding the contents of the mortar. When well mixed, take a small piece in a spoon, and poach it in some boiling water; and if it is delicate, firm, and of a good flavour, it is ready for use. FRIED BREAD CRUMBS. 424. Cut the bread into thin slices, place them in a cool oven overnight, and when thoroughly dry and crisp, roll them down into fine crumbs. Put some lard, or clarified dripping, into a frying-pan; bring it to the boiling-point, throw in the crumbs, and fry them very quickly. Directly they are done, lift them out with a slice, and drain them before the fire from all greasy moisture. When quite crisp, they are ready for use. The fat they are fried in should be clear, and the crumbs should not have the slightest appearance or taste of having been, in the least degree, burnt. FRIED SIPPETS OF BREAD (for Garnishing many Dishes). 425. Cut the bread into thin slices, and stamp them out in whatever shape you like,--rings, crosses, diamonds, &c. &c. Fry them in the same manner as the bread crumbs, in clear boiling lard, or clarified dripping, and drain them until thoroughly crisp before the fire. When variety is desired, fry some of a pale colour, and others of a darker hue. FRIED BREAD FOR BORDERS. 426. Proceed as above, by frying some slices of bread cut in any fanciful shape. When quite crisp, dip one side of the sippet into the beaten white of an egg mixed with a little flour, and place it on the edge of the dish. Continue in this manner till the border is completed, arranging the sippets a pale and a dark one alternately. GENEVESE SAUCE FOR SALMON, TROUT, &c. 427. INGREDIENTS.--1 small carrot, a small faggot of sweet herbs, including parsley, 1 onion, 5 or 6 mushrooms (when obtainable), 1 bay-leaf, 6 cloves, 1 blade of mace, 2 oz. of butter, 1 glass of sherry, 1-1/2 pint of white stock, No. 107, thickening of butter and flour, the juice of half a lemon. _Mode_.--Cut up the onion and carrot into small rings, and put them into a stewpan with the herbs, mushrooms, bay-leaf, cloves, and mace; add the butter, and simmer the whole very gently over a slow fire until the onion is quite tender. Pour in the stock and sherry, and stew slowly for 1 hour, when strain it off into a clean saucepan. Now make a thickening of butter and flour, put it to the sauce, stir it over the fire until perfectly smooth and mellow, add the lemon-juice, give one boil, when it will be ready for table. _Time_.--Altogether 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d per pint. _Sufficient_, half this quantity for two slices of salmon. [Illustration: SAGE.] SAGE.--This was originally a native of the south of Europe, but it has long been cultivated in the English garden. There are several kinds of it, known as the green, the red, the small-leaved, and the broad-leaved balsamic. In cookery, its principal use is for stuffings and sauces, for which purpose the red is the most agreeable, and the green the next. The others are used for medical purposes. PICKLED GHERKINS. 428. INGREDIENTS.--Salt and water, 1 oz. of bruised ginger, 1/2 oz. of whole black pepper, 1/4 oz. of whole allspice, 4 cloves, 2 blades of mace, a little horseradish. This proportion of pepper, spices, &c., for 1 quart of vinegar. _Mode_.--Let the gherkins remain in salt and water for 3 or 4 days, when take them out, wipe perfectly dry, and put them into a stone jar. Boil sufficient vinegar to cover them, with spices and pepper, &c., in the above proportion, for 10 minutes; pour it, quite boiling, over the gherkins, cover the jar with vine-leaves, and put over them a plate, setting them near the fire, where they must remain all night. Next day drain off the vinegar, boil it up again, and pour it hot over them. Cover up with fresh leaves, and let the whole remain till quite cold. Now tie down closely with bladder to exclude the air, and in a month or two, they will be fit for use. _Time_.--4 days. _Seasonable_ from the middle of July to the end of August. [Illustration: GHERKINS.] GHERKINS.--Gherkins are young cucumbers; and the only way in which they are used for cooking purposes is pickling them, as by the recipe here given. Not having arrived at maturity, they have not, of course, so strongly a developed flavour as cucumbers, and, as a pickle, they are very general favourites. GOOSEBERRY SAUCE FOR BOILED MACKEREL. 429. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of green gooseberries, 3 tablespoonfuls of Béchamel, No. 367 (veal gravy may be substituted for this), 2 oz. of fresh butter; seasoning to taste of salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Boil the gooseberries in water until quite tender; strain them, and rub them through a sieve. Put into a saucepan the Béchamel or gravy, with the butter and seasoning; add the pulp from the gooseberries, mix all well together, and heat gradually through. A little pounded sugar added to this sauce is by many persons considered an improvement, as the saccharine matter takes off the extreme acidity of the unripe fruit. _Time_.--Boil the gooseberries from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for a large dish of mackerel. _Seasonable_ from May to July. [Illustration: THE GOOSEBERRY.] THE GOOSEBERRY.--This useful and wholesome fruit (_Ribes grossularia_) is thought to be indigenous to the British Isles, and may be occasionally found in a wild state in some of the eastern counties, although, when uncultivated, it is but a very small and inferior berry. The high state of perfection to which it has been here brought, is due to the skill of the English gardeners; for in no other country does it attain the same size and flavour. The humidity of the British climate, however, has doubtless something to do with the result; and it is said that gooseberries produced in Scotland as far north as Inverness, are of a very superior character. Malic and citric acid blended with sugar, produce the pleasant flavour of the gooseberry; and upon the proper development of these properties depends the success of all cooking operations with which they are connected. GLAZE FOR COVERING COLD HAMS, TONGUES, &c. 430. INGREDIENTS.--Stock No. 104 or 107, doubling the quantity of meat in each. _Mode_.--We may remark at the outset, that unless glaze is wanted in very large quantities, it is seldom made expressly. Either of the stocks mentioned above, boiled down and reduced very considerably, will be found to produce a very good glaze. Put the stock into a stewpan, over a nice clear fire; let it boil till it becomes somewhat stiff, when keep stirring, to prevent its burning. The moment it is sufficiently reduced, and comes to a glaze, turn it out into the glaze-pot, of which we have here given an engraving. As, however, this is not to be found in every establishment, a white earthenware jar would answer the purpose; and this may be placed in a vessel of boiling water, to melt the glaze when required. It should never be warmed in a saucepan, except on the principle of the bain marie, lest it should reduce too much, and become black and bitter. If the glaze is wanted of a pale colour, more veal than beef should be used in making the stock; and it is as well to omit turnips and celery, as these impart a disagreeable bitter flavour. TO GLAZE COLD JOINTS, &c.--Melt the glaze by placing the vessel which contains it, into the bain marie or saucepan of boiling water; brush it over the meat with a paste-brush, and if in places it is not quite covered, repeat the operation. The glaze should not be too dark a colour. (_See_ Coloured Cut of Glazed Ham, P.) [Illustration: GLAZE-KETTLE.] [Illustration: THE BAIN MARIE.] GLAZE-KETTLE.--This is a kettle used for keeping the strong stock boiled down to a jelly, which is known by the name of glaze. It is composed of two tin vessels, as shown in the cut, one of which, the upper,--containing the glaze, is inserted into one of larger diameter and containing boiling water. A brush is put in the small hole at the top of the lid, and is employed for putting the glaze on anything that may require it. THE BAIN MARIE.--So long ago as the time when emperors ruled in Rome, and the yellow Tiber passed through a populous and wealthy city, this utensil was extensively employed; and it is frequently mentioned by that profound culinary chemist of the ancients, Apicius. It is an open kind of vessel (as shown in the engraving and explained in our paragraph No. 87, on the French terms used in modern cookery), filled with boiling or nearly boiling water; and into this water should be put all the stewpans containing those ingredients which it is desired to keep hot. The quantity and quality of the contents of these vessels are not at all affected; and if the hour of dinner is uncertain in any establishment, by reason of the nature of the master's business, nothing is so certain a means of preserving the flavour of all dishes as the employment of the bain marie. GREEN SAUCE FOR GREEN GEESE OR DUCKLINGS. 431. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 pint of sorrel-juice, 1 glass of sherry, 1/2 pint of green gooseberries, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 1 oz. of fresh butter. _Mode_.--Boil the gooseberries in water until they are quite tender; mash them and press them through a sieve; put the pulp into a saucepan with the above ingredients; simmer for 3 or 4 minutes, and serve very hot. _Time_.--3 or 4 minutes. _Note_.--We have given this recipe as a sauce for green geese, thinking that some of our readers might sometimes require it; but, at the generality of fashionable tables, it is now seldom or never served. [Illustration: SORREL.] SORREL.--We gather from the pages of Pliny and Apicius, that sorrel was cultivated by the Romans in order to give it more strength and flavour, and that they also partook of it sometimes stewed with mustard, being seasoned with a little oil and vinegar. At the present day, English cookery is not much indebted to this plant (_Rumex Acetosa_), although the French make use of it to a considerable extent. It is found in most parts of Great Britain, and also on the continent, growing wild in the grass meadows, and, in a few gardens, it is cultivated. The acid of sorrel is very _prononcé_, and is what chemists term a binoxalate of potash; that is, a combination of oxalic acid with potash. GENERAL STOCK FOR GRAVIES. 432. Either of the stocks, Nos. 104, 105, or 107, will be found to answer very well for the basis of many gravies, unless these are wanted very rich indeed. By the addition of various store sauces, thickening and flavouring, the stocks here referred to may be converted into very good gravies. It should be borne in mind, however, that the goodness and strength of spices, wines, flavourings, &c., evaporate, and that they lose a great deal of their fragrance, if added to the gravy a long time before they are wanted. If this point is attended to, a saving of one half the quantity of these ingredients will be effected, as, with long boiling, the flavour almost entirely passes away. The shank-bones of mutton, previously well soaked, will be found a great assistance in enriching gravies; a kidney or melt, beef skirt, trimmings of meat, &c. &c., answer very well when only a small quantity is wanted, and, as we have before observed, a good gravy need not necessarily be so very expensive; for economically-prepared dishes are oftentimes found as savoury and wholesome as dearer ones. The cook should also remember that the fragrance of gravies should not be overpowered by too much spice, or any strong essences, and that they should always be warmed in a _bain marie_, after they are flavoured, or else in a jar or jug placed in a saucepan full of boiling water. The remains of roast-meat gravy should always be saved; as, when no meat is at hand, a very nice gravy in haste may be made from it, and when added to hashes, ragoûts, &c., is a great improvement. [Illustration: GRAVY-KETTLE.] GRAVY-KETTLE.--This is a utensil which will not be found in every kitchen; but it is a useful one where it is necessary to keep gravies hot for the purpose of pouring over various dishes as they are cooking. It is made of copper, and should, consequently, be heated over the hot plate, if there be one, or a charcoal stove. The price at which it can be purchased is set down by Messrs. Slack at 14s. GRAVY FOR ROAST MEAT. 433. INGREDIENTS.--Gravy, salt. _Mode_.--Put a common dish with a small quantity of salt in it under the meat, about a quarter of an hour before it is removed from the fire. When the dish is full, take it away, baste the meat, and pour the gravy into the dish on which the joint is to be served. SAUCES AND GRAVIES IN THE MIDDLE AGES.--Neither poultry, butcher's meat, nor roast game were eaten dry in the middle ages, any more than fried fish is now. Different sauces, each having its own peculiar flavour, were served with all these dishes, and even with the various _parts_ of each animal. Strange and grotesque sauces, as, for example, "eggs cooked on the spit," "butter fried and roasted," were invented by the cooks of those days; but these preparations had hardly any other merit than that of being surprising and difficult to make. A QUICKLY-MADE GRAVY. 434. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of shin of beef, 1/2 onion, 1/4 carrot, 2 or 3 sprigs of parsley and savoury herbs, a piece of butter about the size of a walnut; cayenne and mace to taste, 3/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the meat into very small pieces, slice the onion and carrot, and put them into a small saucepan with the butter. Keep stirring over a sharp fire until they have taken a little colour, when add the water and the remaining ingredients. Simmer for 1/2 hour, skim well, strain, and flavour, when it will be ready for use. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 5d. A HUNDRED DIFFERENT DISHES.--Modern housewives know pretty well how much care, and attention, and foresight are necessary in order to serve well a little dinner for six or eight persons,--a dinner which will give credit to the _ménage_, and satisfaction and pleasure to the guests. A quickly-made gravy, under some circumstances that we have known occur, will be useful to many housekeepers when they have not much time for preparation. But, talking of speed, and time, and preparation, what a combination of all these must have been necessary for the feast at the wedding of Charles VI. of France. On that occasion, as Froissart the chronicler tells us, the art of cooking, with its innumerable paraphernalia of sauces, with gravy, pepper, cinnamon, garlic, scallion, brains, gravy soups, milk _potage_, and ragoûts, had a signal triumph. The skilful _chef-de-cuisine_ of the royal household covered the great marble table of the regal palace with no less than a hundred different dishes, prepared in a hundred different ways. A GOOD BEEF GRAVY FOR POULTRY, GAME, &c. 435. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of lean beef, 1/2 pint of cold water, 1 shalot or small onion, 1/2 a teaspoonful of salt, a little pepper, 1 tablespoonful of Harvey's sauce or mushroom ketchup, 1/2 a teaspoonful of arrowroot. _Mode_.--Cut up the beef into small pieces, and put it, with the water, into a stewpan. Add the shalot and seasoning, and simmer gently for 3 hours, taking care that it does not boil fast. A short time before it is required, take the arrowroot, and having mixed it with a little cold water, pour it into the gravy, which keep stirring, adding the Harvey's sauce, and just letting it boil. Strain off the gravy in a tureen, and serve very hot. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. per pint. BROWN GRAVY. 436. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of butter, 2 large onions, 2 lbs. of shin of beef, 2 small slices of lean bacon (if at hand), salt and whole pepper to taste, 3 cloves, 2 quarts of water. For thickening, 2 oz. of butter, 3 oz. of flour. _Mode_.--Put the butter into a stewpan; set this on the fire, throw in the onions cut in rings, and fry them a light brown; then add the beef and bacon, which should be cut into small square pieces; season, and pour in a teacupful of water; let it boil for about ten minutes, or until it is of a nice brown colour, occasionally stirring the contents. Now fill up with water in the above proportion; let it boil up, when draw it to the side of the fire to simmer very gently for 1-1/2 hour; strain, and when cold, take off all the fat. In thickening this gravy, melt 3 oz. of butter in a stewpan, add 2 oz. of flour, and stir till of a light-brown colour; when cold, add it to the strained gravy, and boil it up quickly. This thickening may be made in larger quantities, and kept in a stone jar for use when wanted. _Time_.--Altogether, 2 hours. _Average cost_, 4d. per pint. CLOVES.--This very agreeable spice is the unexpanded flower-buds of the _Caryophyllus aromaticus_, a handsome, branching tree, a native of the Malacca Islands. They take their name from the Latin word _clavus_, or the French _clou_, both meaning a nail, and to which the clove has a considerable resemblance. Cloves were but little known to the ancients, and Pliny appears to be the only writer who mentions them; and he says, vaguely enough, that some were brought to Rome, very similar to grains of pepper, but somewhat longer; that they were only to be found in India, in a wood consecrated to the gods; and that they served in the manufacture of perfumes. The Dutch, as in the case of the nutmeg (_see_ 378), endeavoured, when they gained possession of the Spice Islands, to secure a monopoly of cloves, and, so that the cultivation of the tree might be confined to Amboyna, their chief island, bribed the surrounding chiefs to cut down all trees found elsewhere. The Amboyna, or royal clove, is said to be the best, and is rare; but other kinds, nearly equally good, are produced in other parts of the world, and they come to Europe from Mauritius, Bourbon, Cayenne, and Martinique, as also from St. Kitts, St. Vincent's, and Trinidad. The clove contains about 20 per cent. of volatile aromatic oil, to which it owes its peculiar pungent flavour, its other parts being composed of woody fibre, water, gum, and resin. BROWN GRAVY WITHOUT MEAT. 437. INGREDIENTS.--2 large onions, 1 large carrot, 2 oz. of butter, 3 pints of boiling water, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, a wineglassful of good beer; salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Slice, flour, and fry the onions and carrots in the butter until of a nice light-brown colour; then add the boiling water and the remaining ingredients; let the whole stew gently for about an hour; then strain, and when cold, skim off all the fat. Thicken it in the same manner as recipe No. 436, and, if thought necessary, add a few drops of colouring No. 108. _Time_.--1 hour. Average cost, 2d. per pint. _Note_.--The addition of a small quantity of mushroom ketchup or Harvey's sauce very much improves the flavour of this gravy. RICH GRAVY FOR HASHES, RAGOUTS, &c. 438. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of shin of beef, 1 large onion or a few shalots, a little flour, a bunch of savoury herbs, 2 blades of mace, 2 or 3 cloves, 4 whole allspice, 1/4 teaspoonful of whole pepper, 1 slice of lean ham or bacon, 1/2 a head of celery (when at hand), 2 pints of boiling water; salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the beef into thin slices, as also the onions, dredge them with flour, and fry of a pale brown, but do not allow them to get black; pour in the boiling water, let it boil up; and skim. Add the remaining ingredients, and simmer the whole very gently for 2 hours, or until all the juices are extracted from the meat; put it by to get cold, when take off all the fat. This gravy may be flavoured with ketchup, store sauces, wine, or, in fact, anything that may give additional and suitable relish to the dish it is intended for. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. per pint. [Illustration: PIMENTO.] ALLSPICE.--This is the popular name given to pimento, or Jamaica pepper, known to naturalists as _Eugenia pimenta_, and belonging to the order of Myrtaceae. It is the berry of a fine tree in the West Indies and South America, which attains a height of from fifteen to twenty feet: the berries are not allowed to ripen, but, being gathered green, are then dried in the sun, and then become black. It is an inexpensive spice, and is considered more mild and innocent than most other spices; consequently, it is much used for domestic purposes, combining a very agreeable variety of flavours. GRAVY MADE WITHOUT MEAT FOR FOWLS. 439. INGREDIENTS.--The necks, feet, livers, and gizzards of the fowls, 1 slice of toasted bread, 1/2 onion, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, salt and pepper to taste, 1/2 pint of water, thickening of butter and flour, 1 dessertspoonful of ketchup. _Mode_.--Wash the feet of the fowls thoroughly clean, and cut them and the neck into small pieces. Put these into a stewpan with the bread, onion, herbs, seasoning, livers, and gizzards; pour the water over them and simmer gently for 1 hour. Now take out the liver, pound it, and strain the liquor to it. Add a thickening of butter and flour, and a flavouring of mushroom ketchup; boil it up and serve. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 4d. per pint. A CHEAP GRAVY FOR HASHES, &c. 440. INGREDIENTS.--Bones and trimmings of the cooked joint intended for hashing, 1/4 teaspoonful of salt, 1/4 teaspoonful of whole pepper, 1/4 teaspoonful of whole allspice, a small faggot of savoury herbs, 1/2 head of celery, 1 onion, 1 oz. of butter, thickening, sufficient boiling water to cover the bones. _Mode_.--Chop the bones in small pieces, and put them in a stewpan, with the trimmings, salt, pepper, spice, herbs, and celery. Cover with boiling water, and let the whole simmer gently for 1-1/2 or 2 hours. Slice and fry the onion in the butter till it is of a pale brown, and mix it gradually with the gravy made from the bones; boil for 1/4 hour, and strain into a basin; now put it back into the stewpan; flavour with walnut pickle or ketchup, pickled-onion liquor, or any store sauce that may be preferred. Thicken with a little butter and flour, kneaded together on a plate, and the gravy will be ready for use. After the thickening is added, the gravy should just boil, to take off the rawness of the flour. _Time_.--2 hours, or rather more. _Average cost_, 4d., exclusive of the bones and trimmings. JUGGED GRAVY (Excellent). 441. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of shin of beef, 1/4 lb. of lean ham, 1 onion or a few shalots, 2 pints of water, salt and whole pepper to taste, 1 blade of mace, a faggot of savoury herbs, 1/2 a large carrot, 1/2 a head of celery. _Mode_.--Cut up the beef and ham into small pieces, and slice the vegetables; take a jar, capable of holding two pints of water, and arrange therein, in layers, the ham, meat, vegetables, and seasoning, alternately, filling up with the above quantity of water; tie down the jar, or put a plate over the top, so that the steam may not escape; place it in the oven, and let it remain there from 6 to 8 hours; should, however, the oven be very hot, less time will be required. When sufficiently cooked, strain the gravy, and when cold, remove the fat. It may be flavoured with ketchup, wines, or any other store sauce that may be preferred. It is a good plan to put the jar in a cool oven over-night, to draw the gravy; and then it will not require so long baking the following day. _Time_.--From 6 to 8 hours, according to the oven. _Average cost_, 7d. per pint. [Illustration: CELERY.] CELERY.--As in the above recipe, the roots of celery are principally used in England for flavouring soups, sauces, and gravies, and for serving with cheese at the termination of a dinner, and as an ingredient for salad. In Italy, however, the green leaves and stems are also employed for stews and soups, and the seeds are also more frequently made use of on the continent than in our own islands. In Germany, celery is very highly esteemed; and it is there boiled and served up as a dish by itself, as well as used in the composition of mixed dishes. We ourselves think that this mild aromatic plant might oftener be cooked than it is; for there are very few nicer vegetable preparations brought to table than a well-dressed plate of stewed celery. VEAL GRAVY FOR WHITE SAUCES, FRICASSEES, &c. 442. INGREDIENTS.--2 slices of nicely flavoured lean ham, any poultry trimmings, 3 lbs. of lean veal, a faggot of savoury herbs, including parsley, a few green onions (or 1 large onion may be substituted for these), a few mushrooms, when obtainable; 1 blade of mace, salt to taste, 3 pints of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the ham and veal into small square pieces, put these in a stewpan, moistening them with a small quantity of water; place them over the fire to draw down. When the bottom of the stewpan becomes covered with a white glaze, fill up with water in the above proportion; add the remaining ingredients, stew very slowly for 3 or 4 hours, and do not forget to skim well the moment it boils. Put it by, and, when cold, take off all the fat. This may be used for Béchamel, sauce tournée, and many other white sauces. _Time_.--3 or 4 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per pint. CHEAP GRAVY FOR MINCED VEAL. 443. INGREDIENTS.--Bones and trimmings of cold roast or boiled veal, 1-1/2 pint of water, 1 onion, 1/4 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1/4 teaspoonful of salt, 1 blade of pounded mace, the juice of 1/4 lemon; thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a stewpan, except the thickening and lemon-juice, and let them simmer very gently for rather more than 1 hour, or until the liquor is reduced to a pint, when strain through a hair-sieve. Add a thickening of butter and flour, and the lemon-juice; set it on the fire, and let it just boil up, when it will be ready for use. It may be flavoured with a little tomato sauce, and, where a rather dark-coloured gravy is not objected to, ketchup, or Harvey's sauce, may be added at pleasure. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 3d. GRAVY FOR VENISON. 444. INGREDIENTS.--Trimmings of venison, 3 or 4 mutton shank-bones, salt to taste, 1 pint of water, 2 teaspoonfuls of walnut ketchup. _Mode_.--Brown the trimmings over a nice clear fire, and put them in a stewpan with the shank-bones and water; simmer gently for 2 hours, strain and skim, and add the walnut ketchup and a seasoning of salt. Let it just boil, when it is ready to serve. _Time_.--2 hours. [Illustration: THE DEER.] VENISON.--Far, far away in ages past, our fathers loved the chase, and what it brought; and it is usually imagined that when Isaac ordered his son Esau to go out with his weapons, his quiver and his bow, and to prepare for him savoury meat, such as he loved, that it was venison he desired. The wise Solomon, too, delighted in this kind of fare; for we learn that, at his table, every day were served the wild ox, the roebuck, and the stag. Xenophon informs us, in his History, that Cyrus, king of Persia, ordered that venison should never be wanting at his repasts; and of the effeminate Greeks it was the delight. The Romans, also, were devoted admirers of the flesh of the deer; and our own kings and princes, from the Great Alfred down to the Prince Consort, have hunted, although, it must be confessed, under vastly different circumstances, the swift buck, and relished their "haunch" all the more keenly, that they had borne themselves bravely in the pursuit of the animal. TO DRY HERBS FOR WINTER USE. 445. On a very dry day, gather the herbs, just before they begin to flower. If this is done when the weather is damp, the herbs will not be so good a colour. (It is very necessary to be particular in little matters like this, for trifles constitute perfection, and herbs nicely dried will be found very acceptable when frost and snow are on the ground. It is hardly necessary, however, to state that the flavour and fragrance of fresh herbs are incomparably finer.) They should be perfectly freed from dirt and dust, and be divided into small bunches, with their roots cut off. Dry them quickly in a very hot oven, or before the fire, as by this means most of their flavour will be preserved, and be careful not to burn them; tie them up in paper bags, and keep in a dry place. This is a very general way of preserving dried herbs; but we would recommend the plan described in a former recipe. _Seasonable_.--From the month of July to the end of September is the proper time for storing herbs for winter use. HERB POWDER FOR FLAVOURING, when Fresh Herbs are not obtainable. 446. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of dried lemon-thyme, 1 oz. of dried winter savory, 1 oz. of dried sweet marjoram and basil, 2 oz. of dried parsley, 1 oz. of dried lemon-peel. _Mode_.--Prepare and dry the herbs by recipe No. 445; pick the leaves from the stalks, pound them, and sift them through a hair-sieve; mix in the above proportions, and keep in glass bottles, carefully excluding the air. This, we think, a far better method of keeping herbs, as the flavour and fragrance do not evaporate so much as when they are merely put in paper bags. Preparing them in this way, you have them ready for use at a moment's notice. Mint, sage, parsley, &c., dried, pounded, and each put into separate bottles, will be found very useful in winter. [Illustration: CORK WITH WOODEN TOP.] CORKS WITH WOODEN TOPS.--These are the best corks to use when it is indispensable that the air should not be admitted to the ingredients contained in bottles which are in constant use. The top, which, as will be seen by the accompanying little cut, is larger than the cork, is made of wood; and, besides effectually covering the whole top of the bottle, can be easily removed and again used, as no corkscrew is necessary to pull it out. SAVORY.--This we find described by Columella, a voluminous Roman writer on agriculture, as an odoriferous herb, which, "in the brave days of old," entered into the seasoning of nearly every dish. Verily, there are but few new things under the sun, and we don't find that we have made many discoveries in gastronomy, at least beyond what was known to the ancient inhabitants of Italy. We possess two varieties of this aromatic herb, known to naturalists as _Satureja_. They are called summer and winter savory, according to the time of the year when they are fit for gathering. Both sorts are in general cultivation throughout England. HORSERADISH SAUCE, to serve with Roast Beef. 447. INGREDIENTS.--4 tablespoonfuls of grated horseradish, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 1/2 teaspoonful of pepper, 2 teaspoonfuls of made mustard; vinegar. _Mode_.--Grate the horseradish, and mix it well with the sugar, salt, pepper, and mustard; moisten it with sufficient vinegar to give it the consistency of cream, and serve in a tureen: 3 or 4 tablespoonfuls of cream added to the above, very much improve the appearance and flavour of this sauce. To heat it to serve with hot roast beef, put it in a bain marie or a jar, which place in a saucepan of boiling water; make it hot, but do not allow it to boil, or it will curdle. _Note_.--This sauce is a great improvement on the old-fashioned way of serving cold-scraped horseradish with hot roast beef. The mixing of the cold vinegar with the warm gravy cools and spoils everything on the plate. Of course, with cold meat, the sauce should be served cold. [Illustration: THE HORSERADISH.] THE HORSERADISH.--This has been, for many years, a favourite accompaniment of roast beef, and is a native of England. It grows wild in wet ground, but has long been cultivated in the garden, and is, occasionally, used in winter salads and in sauces. On account of the great volatility of its oil, it should never be preserved by drying, but should be kept moist by being buried in sand. So rapidly does its volatile oil evaporate, that even when scraped for the table, it almost immediately spoils by exposure to the air. HORSERADISH VINEGAR. 448. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of scraped horseradish, 1 oz. of minced shalot, 1 drachm of cayenne, 1 quart of vinegar. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a bottle, which shake well every day for a fortnight. When it is thoroughly steeped, strain and bottle, and it will be fit for use immediately. This will be found an agreeable relish to cold beef, &c. _Seasonable_.--This vinegar should be made either in October or November, as horseradish is then in its highest perfection. INDIAN CURRY-POWDER, founded on Dr. Kitchener's Recipe. 449. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of coriander-seed, 1/4 lb. of turmeric, 2 oz. of cinnamon-seed, 1/2 oz. of cayenne, 1 oz. of mustard, 1 oz. of ground ginger, 1/2 ounce of allspice, 2 oz. of fenugreek-seed. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients in a cool oven, where they should remain one night; then pound them in a mortar, rub them through a sieve, and mix thoroughly together; keep the powder in a bottle, from which the air should be completely excluded. _Note_.--We have given this recipe for curry-powder, as some persons prefer to make it at home; but that purchased at any respectable shop is, generally speaking, far superior, and, taking all things into consideration, very frequently more economical. INDIAN MUSTARD, an excellent Relish to Bread and Butter, or any cold Meat. 450. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of the best mustard, 1/4 lb. of flour, 1/2 oz. of salt, 4 shalots, 4 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 4 tablespoonfuls of ketchup, 1/4 bottle of anchovy sauce. _Mode_.--Put the mustard, flour, and salt into a basin, and make them into a stiff paste with boiling water. Boil the shalots with the vinegar, ketchup, and anchovy sauce, for 10 minutes, and pour the whole, _boiling_, over the mixture in the basin; stir well, and reduce it to a proper thickness; put it into a bottle, with a bruised shalot at the bottom, and store away for use. This makes an excellent relish, and if properly prepared will keep for years. [Illustration: MUSTARD.] MUSTARD.--Before the year 1729, mustard was not known at English tables. About that time an old woman, of the name of Clements, residing in Durham, began to grind the seed in a mill, and to pass the flour through several processes necessary to free the seed from its husks. She kept her secret for many years to herself, during which she sold large quantities of mustard throughout the country, but especially in London. Here it was introduced to the royal table, when it received the approval of George I. From the circumstance of Mrs. Clements being a resident at Durham, it obtained the name of Durham mustard. In the county of that name it is still principally cultivated, and the plant is remarkable for the rapidity of its growth. It is the best stimulant employed to impart strength to the digestive organs, and even in its previously coarsely-pounded state, had a high reputation with our ancestors. INDIAN PICKLE (very Superior). 451. INGREDIENTS.--To each gallon of vinegar allow 6 cloves of garlic, 12 shalots, 2 sticks of sliced horseradish, 1/4 lb. of bruised ginger, 2 oz. of whole black pepper, 1 oz. of long pepper, 1 oz. of allspice, 12 cloves, 1/4 oz. of cayenne, 2 oz. of mustard-seed, 1/4 lb. of mustard, 1 oz. of turmeric; a white cabbage, cauliflowers, radish-pods, French beans, gherkins, small round pickling-onions, nasturtiums, capsicums, chilies, &c. _Mode_.--Cut the cabbage, which must be hard and white, into slices, and the cauliflowers into small branches; sprinkle salt over them in a large dish, and let them remain two days; then dry them, and put them into a very large jar, with garlic, shalots, horseradish, ginger, pepper, allspice, and cloves, in the above proportions. Boil sufficient vinegar to cover them, which pour over, and, when cold, cover up to keep them free from dust. As the other things for the pickle ripen at different times, they may be added as they are ready: these will be radish-pods, French beans, gherkins, small onions, nasturtiums, capsicums, chilies, &c. &c. As these are procured, they must, first of all, be washed in a little cold vinegar, wiped, and then simply added to the other ingredients in the large jar, only taking care that they are _covered_ by the vinegar. If more vinegar should be wanted to add to the pickle, do not omit first to boil it before adding it to the rest. When you have collected all the things you require, turn all out in a large pan, and thoroughly mix them. Now put the mixed vegetables into smaller jars, without any of the vinegar; then boil the vinegar again, adding as much more as will be required to fill the different jars, and also cayenne, mustard-seed, turmeric, and mustard, which must be well mixed with a little cold vinegar, allowing the quantities named above to each gallon of vinegar. Pour the vinegar, boiling hot, over the pickle, and when cold, tie down with a bladder. If the pickle is wanted for immediate use, the vinegar should be boiled twice more, but the better way is to make it during one season for use during the next. It will keep for years, if care is taken that the vegetables are quite covered by the vinegar. This recipe was taken from the directions of a lady whose pickle was always pronounced excellent by all who tasted it, and who has, for many years, exactly followed the recipe given above. __Note_.--For small families, perhaps the above quantity of pickle will be considered too large; but this may be decreased at pleasure, taking care to properly proportion the various ingredients. [Illustration: INDIA PICKLE.] KEEPING PICKLES.--Nothing shows more, perhaps, the difference between a tidy thrifty housewife and a lady to whom these desirable epithets may not honestly be applied, than the appearance of their respective store-closets. The former is able, the moment anything; is wanted, to put her hand on it at once; no time is lost, no vexation incurred, no dish spoilt for the want of "just little something,"--the latter, on the contrary, hunts all over her cupboard for the ketchup the cook requires, or the pickle the husband thinks he should like a little of with his cold roast beef or mutton-chop, and vainly seeks for the Embden groats, or arrowroot, to make one of her little boys some gruel. One plan, then, we strenuously advise all who do not follow, to begin at once, and that is, to label all their various pickles and store sauces, in the same way as the cut here shows. It will occupy a little time at first, but there will be economy of it in the long run. VINEGAR.--This term is derived from the two French words _vin aigre_, 'sour wine,' and should, therefore, be strictly applied to that which is made only from wine. As the acid is the same, however it is procured, that made from ale also takes the same name. Nearly all ancient nations were acquainted with the use of vinegar. We learn in _Ruth_, that the reapers in the East soaked their bread in it to freshen it. The Romans kept large quantities of it in their cellars, using it, to a great extent, in their seasonings and sauces. This people attributed very beneficial qualities to it, as it was supposed to be digestive, antibilious, and antiscorbutic, as well as refreshing. Spartianus, a Latin historian, tells us that, mixed with water, it was the drink of the soldiers, and that, thanks to this beverage, the veterans of the Roman army braved, by its use, the inclemency and variety of all the different seasons and climates of Europe, Asia, and Africa. It is said, the Spanish peasantry, and other inhabitants of the southern parts of Europe, still follow this practice, and add to a gallon of water about a gill of wine vinegar, with a little salt; and that this drink, with a little bread, enables them, under the heat of their burning sun, to sustain the labours of the field. INDIAN CHETNEY SAUCE. 452. INGREDIENTS.--8 oz. of sharp, sour apples, pared and cored; 8 oz. of tomatoes, 8 oz. of salt, 8 oz. of brown, sugar, 8 oz. of stoned raisins, 4 oz. of cayenne, 4 oz. of powdered ginger, 2 oz. of garlic, 2 oz. of shalots, 3 quarts of vinegar, 1 quart of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Chop the apples in small square pieces, and add to them the other ingredients. Mix the whole well together, and put in a well-covered jar. Keep this in a warm place, and stir every day for a month, taking care to put on the lid after this operation; strain, but do not squeeze it dry; store it away in clean jars or bottles for use, and the liquor will serve as an excellent sauce for meat or fish. _Seasonable_.--Make this sauce when tomatoes are in full season, that is, from the beginning of September to the end of October. PICKLES.--The ancient Greeks and Romans held their pickles in high estimation. They consisted of flowers, herbs, roots, and vegetables, preserved in vinegar, and which were kept, for a long time, in cylindrical vases with wide mouths. Their cooks prepared pickles with the greatest care, and the various ingredients were macerated in oil, brine, and vinegar, with which they were often impregnated drop by drop. Meat, also, after having been cut into very small pieces, was treated in the same manner. ITALIAN SAUCE (Brown). 453. INGREDIENTS.--A few chopped mushrooms and shalots, 1/2 pint of stock, No. 105, 1/2 glass of Madeira, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 1 teaspoonful of chopped parsley. _Mode_.--Put the stock into a stewpan with the mushrooms, shalots, and Madeira, and stew gently for 1/4 hour, then add the remaining ingredients, and let them just boil. When the sauce is done enough, put it in another stewpan, and warm it in a _bain marie_. (_See_ No. 430.) The mushrooms should not be chopped long before they are wanted, as they will then become black. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 7d. _Sufficient_ for a small dish. ITALIAN SAUCE (White). 454. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of white stock, No. 107; 2 tablespoonfuls of chopped mushrooms, 1 dessertspoonful of chopped shalots, 1 slice of ham, minced very fine; 1/4 pint of Béchamel, No. 367; salt to taste, a few drops of garlic vinegar, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, a squeeze of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Put the shalots and mushrooms into a stewpan with the stock and ham, and simmer very gently for 1/2 hour, when add the Béchamel. Let it just boil up, and then strain it through a tammy; season with the above ingredients, and serve very hot. If this sauce should not have retained a nice white colour, a little cream may be added. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 10d. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized dish. _Note_.--To preserve the colour of the mushrooms after pickling, throw them into water to which a little lemon-juice has been added. TO PICKLE LEMONS WITH THE PEEL ON. 455. INGREDIENTS.--6 lemons, 2 quarts of boiling water; to each quart of vinegar allow 1/2 oz. of cloves, 1/2 oz. of white pepper, 1 oz. of bruised ginger, 1/4 oz. of mace and chilies, 1 oz. of mustard-seed, 1/2 stick of sliced horseradish, a few cloves of garlic. _Mode_.--Put the lemons into a brine that will bear an egg; let them remain in it 6 days, stirring them every day; have ready 2 quarts of boiling water, put in the lemons, and allow them to boil for 1/4 hour; take them out, and let them lie in a cloth until perfectly dry and cold. Boil up sufficient vinegar to cover the lemons, with all the above ingredients, allowing the same proportion as stated to each quart of vinegar. Pack the lemons in a jar, pour over the vinegar, &c. boiling hot, and tie down with a bladder. They will be fit for use in about 12 months, or rather sooner. _Seasonable_.--This should be made from November to April. THE LEMON.--In the earlier ages of the world, the lemon does not appear to have been at all known, and the Romans only became acquainted with it at a very late period, and then only used it to keep moths from their garments. Its acidity would seem to have been unpleasant to them; and in Pliny's time, at the commencement of the Christian era, this fruit was hardly accepted, otherwise than as an excellent antidote against the effects of poison. Many anecdotes have been related concerning the anti-venomous properties of the lemon; Athenaeus, a Latin writer, telling us, that on one occasion, two men felt no effects from the bites of dangerous serpents, because they had previously eaten of this fruit. TO PICKLE LEMONS WITHOUT THE PEEL. 456. INGREDIENTS.--6 lemons, 1 lb. of fine salt; to each quart of vinegar, the same ingredients as No. 455. _Mode_.--Peel the lemons, slit each one down 3 times, so as not to divide them, and rub the salt well into the divisions; place them in a pan, where they must remain for a week, turning them every other day; then put them in a Dutch oven before a clear fire until the salt has become perfectly dry; then arrange them in a jar. Pour over sufficient boiling vinegar to cover them, to which have been added the ingredients mentioned in the foregoing recipe; tie down closely, and in about 9 months they will be fit for use. _Seasonable_.--The best time to make this is from November to April. _Note_.--After this pickle has been made from 4 to 5 months, the liquor may be strained and bottled, and will be found an excellent lemon ketchup. LEMON-JUICE.--Citric acid is the principal component part of lemon-juice, which, in addition to the agreeableness of its flavour, is also particularly cooling and grateful. It is likewise an antiscorbutic; and this quality enhances its value. In order to combat the fatal effects of scurvy amongst the crews of ships at sea, a regular allowance of lemon-juice is served out to the men; and by this practice, the disease has almost entirely disappeared. By putting the juice into bottles, and pouring on the top sufficient oil to cover it, it may be preserved for a considerable time. Italy and Turkey export great quantities of it in this manner. LEMON SAUCE FOR BOILED FOWLS. 457. INGREDIENTS.--1 small lemon, 3/4 pint of melted butter, No. 380. _Mode_.--Cut the lemon into very thin slices, and these again into very small dice. Have ready 3/4 pint of melted butter, made by recipe No. 380; put in the lemon; let it just simmer, but not boil, and pour it over the fowls. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for a pair of large fowls. LEMON WHITE SAUCE, FOR FOWLS, FRICASSEES, &c. 458. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 pint of cream, the rind and juice of 1 lemon, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole white pepper, 1 sprig of lemon thyme, 3 oz. of butter, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1 teacupful of white stock; salt to taste. _Mode_.--Put the cream into a very clean saucepan (a lined one is best), with the lemon-peel, pepper, and thyme, and let these infuse for 1/2 hour, when simmer gently for a few minutes, or until there is a nice flavour of lemon. Strain it, and add a thickening of butter and flour in the above proportions; stir this well in, and put in the lemon-juice at the moment of serving; mix the stock with the cream, and add a little salt. This sauce should not boil after the cream and stock are mixed together. _Time_.--Altogether, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_, this quantity, for a pair of large boiled fowls. _Note_.--Where the expense of the cream is objected to, milk may be substituted for it. In this case, an additional dessertspoonful, or rather more, of flour must be added. [Illustration: LEMON THYME.] LEMON THYME.--Two or three tufts of this species of thyme, _Thymus citriodorus_, usually find a place in the herb compartment of the kitchen-garden. It is a trailing evergreen, is of smaller growth than the common kind (_see_ No. 166), and is remarkable for its smell, which closely resembles that of the rind of a lemon. Hence its distinctive name. It is used for some particular dishes, in which the fragrance of the lemon is desired to slightly predominate. LEAMINGTON SAUCE (an Excellent Sauce for Flavouring Gravies, Hashes, Soups, &c.). _(Author's Recipe.)_ 459. INGREDIENTS.--Walnuts. To each quart of walnut-juice allow 3 quarts of vinegar, 1 pint of Indian soy, 1 oz. of cayenne, 2 oz. of shalots, 3/4 oz. of garlic, 1/2 pint of port wine. _Mode_.--Be very particular in choosing the walnuts as soon as they appear in the market; for they are more easily bruised before they become hard and shelled. Pound them in a mortar to a pulp, strew some salt over them, and let them remain thus for two or three days, occasionally stirring and moving them about. Press out the juice, and to _each quart_ of walnut-liquor allow the above proportion of vinegar, soy, cayenne, shalots, garlic, and port wine. Pound each ingredient separately in a mortar, then mix them well together, and store away for use in small bottles. The corks should be well sealed. _Seasonable_.--This sauce should be made as soon as walnuts are obtainable, from the beginning to the middle of July. LEMON BRANDY. 460. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of brandy, the rind of two small lemons, 2 oz. of loaf-sugar, 1/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--Peel the lemons rather thin, taking care to have none of the white pith. Put the rinds into a bottle with the brandy, and let them infuse for 24 hours, when they should be strained. Now boil the sugar with the water for a few minutes, skim it, and, when cold, add it to the brandy. A dessertspoonful of this will be found an excellent flavouring for boiled custards. LEMON RIND OR PEEL.--This contains an essential oil of a very high flavour and fragrance, and is consequently esteemed both a wholesome and agreeable stomachic. It is used, as will be seen by many recipes in this book, as an ingredient for flavouring a number of various dishes. Under the name of CANDIED LEMON-PEEL, it is cleared of the pulp and preserved by sugar, when it becomes an excellent sweetmeat. By the ancient medical philosopher Galen, and others, it may be added, that dried lemon-peel was considered as one of the best digestives, and recommended to weak and delicate persons. LIAISON OF EGGS FOR THICKENING SAUCES. 461. INGREDIENTS.--The yolks of 3 eggs, 8 tablespoonfuls of milk or cream. _Mode_.--Beat up the yolks of the eggs, to which add the milk, and strain the whole through a hair-sieve. When the liaison is being added to the sauce it is intended to thicken, care must be exercised to keep stirring it during the whole time, or, otherwise, the eggs will curdle. It should only just simmer, but not boil. LIVER AND LEMON SAUCE FOR POULTRY. 462. INGREDIENTS.--The liver of a fowl, one lemon, salt to taste, 1/2 pint of melted butter. No. 376. _Mode_.--Wash the liver, and let it boil for a few minutes; peel the lemon very thin, remove the white part and pips, and cut it into very small dice; mince the liver and a small quantity of the lemon rind very fine; add these ingredients to 1/2 pint of smoothly-made melted butter; season with a little salt, put in the cut lemon, heat it gradually, but do not allow it to boil, lest the butter should oil. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Sufficient_ to serve with a pair of small fowls. LIVER AND PARSLEY SAUCE FOR POULTRY. 463. INGREDIENTS.--The liver of a fowl, one tablespoonful of minced parsley, 1/2 pint of melted butter, No. 376. _Mode_.--Wash and score the liver, boil it for a few minutes, and mince it very fine; blanch or scald a small bunch of parsley, of which there should be sufficient when chopped to fill a tablespoon; add this, with the minced liver, to 1/2 pint of smoothly-made melted butter; let it just boil; when serve. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Sufficient_ for a pair of small fowls. LOBSTER SAUCE, to serve with Turbot, Salmon, Brill, &c. (_Very Good_.) 464. INGREDIENTS.--1 middling-sized hen lobster, 3/4 pint of melted butter, No. 376; 1 tablespoonful of anchovy sauce, 1/2 oz. of butter, salt and cayenne to taste, a little pounded mace when liked, 2 or 3 tablespoonfuls of cream. _Mode_.--Choose a hen lobster, as this is indispensable, in order to render this sauce as good as it ought to be. Pick the meat from the shells, and cut it into small square pieces; put the spawn, which will be found under the tail of the lobster, into a mortar with 1/2 oz. of butter, and pound it quite smooth; rub it through a hair-sieve, and cover up till wanted. Make 3/4 pint of melted butter by recipe No. 376; put in all the ingredients except the lobster-meat, and well mix the sauce before the lobster is added to it, as it should retain its square form, and not come to table shredded and ragged. Put in the meat, let it get thoroughly hot, but do not allow it to boil, as the colour would immediately be spoiled; for it should be remembered that this sauce should always have a bright red appearance. If it is intended to be served with turbot or brill, a little of the spawn (dried and rubbed through a sieve without butter) should be saved to garnish with; but as the goodness, flavour, and appearance of the sauce so much depend on having a proper quantity of spawn, the less used for garnishing the better. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 2s. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ to serve with a small turbot, a brill, or salmon for 6 persons. _Note_.--Melted butter made with milk, No. 380, will be found to answer very well for lobster sauce, as by employing it a nice white colour will be obtained. Less quantity than the above may be made by using a very small lobster, to which add only 1/2 pint of melted butter, and season as above. Where economy is desired, the cream may be dispensed with, and the remains of a cold lobster left from table, may, with a little care, be converted into a very good sauce. MAITRE D'HOTEL BUTTER, for putting into Broiled Fish just before it is sent to Table. 465. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 2 dessertspoonfuls of minced parsley, salt and pepper to taste, the juice of 1 large lemon. _Mode_.--Work the above ingredients well together, and let them be thoroughly mixed with a wooden spoon. If this is used as a sauce, it may be poured either under or over the meat or fish it is intended to be served with. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 5d. Note.--4 tablespoonfuls of Béchamel, No. 367, 2 do. of white stock, No. 107, with 2 oz. of the above maître d'hôtel butter stirred into it, and just allowed to simmer for 1 minute, will be found an excellent hot maître d'hôtel sauce. THE MAÎTRE D'HÔTEL.--The house-steward of England is synonymous with the maître d'hôtel of France; and, in ancient times, amongst the Latins, he was called procurator, or major-domo. In Rome, the slaves, after they had procured the various articles necessary for the repasts of the day, would return to the spacious kitchen laden with meat, game, sea-fish, vegetables, fruit, &c. Each one would then lay his basket at the feet of the major-domo, who would examine its contents and register them on his tablets, placing in the pantry contiguous to the dining-room, those of the provisions which need no preparation, and consigning the others to the more immediate care of the cooks. MAITRE D'HOTEL SAUCE (HOT), to serve with Calf's Head, Boiled Eels, and different Fish. 466. INGREDIENTS.--1 slice of minced ham, a few poultry-trimmings, 2 shalots, 1 clove of garlic, 1 bay-leaf, 3/4 pint of water, 2 oz. of butter, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1 heaped tablespoonful of chopped parsley; salt, pepper, and cayenne to taste; the juice of 1/2 large lemon, 1/4 teaspoonful of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Put at the bottom of a stewpan the minced ham, and over it the poultry-trimmings (if these are not at hand, veal should be substituted), with the shalots, garlic, and bay-leaf. Pour in the water, and let the whole simmer gently for 1 hour, or until the liquor is reduced to a full 1/2 pint. Then strain this gravy, put it in another saucepan, make a thickening of butter and flour in the above proportions, and stir it to the gravy over a nice clear fire, until it is perfectly smooth and rather thick, care being taken that the butter does not float on the surface. Skim well, add the remaining ingredients, let the sauce gradually heat, but do not allow it to boil. If this sauce is intended for an entrée, it is necessary to make it of a sufficient thickness, so that it may adhere to what it is meant to cover. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. per pint. _Sufficient_ for re-warming the remains of 1/2 calf's head, or a small dish of cold flaked turbot, cod, &c. MAIGRE MAITRE D'HOTEL SAUCE (HOT). (Made without Meat.) 467. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter, No. 376; 1 heaped tablespoonful of chopped parsley, salt and pepper to taste, the juice of 1/2 large lemon; when liked, 2 minced shalots. _Mode_.--Make 1/2 pint of melted butter, by recipe No. 376; stir in the above ingredients, and let them just boil; when it is ready to serve. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_, 9d. per pint. MAYONNAISE, a Sauce or Salad-Dressing for cold Chicken, Meat, and other cold Dishes. 468. INGREDIENTS.--The yolks of 2 eggs, 6 tablespoonfuls of salad-oil, 4 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, salt and white pepper to taste, 1 tablespoonful of white stock, No. 107, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream. _Mode_.--Put the yolks of the eggs into a basin, with a seasoning of pepper and salt; have ready the above quantities of oil and vinegar, in separate vessels; add them _very gradually_ to the eggs; continue stirring and rubbing the mixture with a wooden spoon, as herein consists the secret of having a nice smooth sauce. It cannot be stirred too frequently, and it should be made in a very cool place, or, if ice is at hand, it should be mixed over it. When the vinegar and oil are well incorporated with the eggs, add the stock and cream, stirring all the time, and it will then be ready for use. For a fish Mayonnaise, this sauce may be coloured with lobster-spawn, pounded; and for poultry or meat, where variety is desired, a little parsley-juice may be used to add to its appearance. Cucumber, Tarragon, or any other flavoured vinegar, may be substituted for plain, where they are liked. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 7d. _Sufficient_ for a small salad. _Note_.--In mixing the oil and vinegar with the eggs, put in first a few drops of oil, and then a few drops of vinegar, never adding a large quantity of either at one time. By this means, you can be more certain of the sauce not curdling. Patience and practice, let us add, are two essentials for making this sauce good. MINT SAUCE, to serve with Roast Lamb. 469. INGREDIENTS.--4 dessertspoonfuls of chopped mint, 2 dessertspoonfuls of pounded white sugar, 1/4 pint of vinegar. _Mode_.--Wash the mint, which should be young and fresh-gathered, free from grit; pick the leaves from the stalks, mince them very fine, and put them into a tureen; add the sugar and vinegar, and stir till the former is dissolved. This sauce is better by being made 2 or 3 hours before wanted for table, as the vinegar then becomes impregnated with the flavour of the mint. By many persons, the above proportion of sugar would not be considered sufficient; but as tastes vary, we have given the quantity which we have found to suit the general palate. _Average cost_, 3d. _Sufficient_ to serve with a middling-sized joint of lamb. _Note_.--Where green mint is scarce and not obtainable, mint vinegar may be substituted for it, and will be found very acceptable in early spring. [Illustration: MINT.] MINT.--The common mint cultivated in our gardens is known as the _Mentha viridis_, and is employed in different culinary processes, being sometimes boiled with certain dishes, and afterwards withdrawn. It has an agreeable aromatic flavour, and forms an ingredient in soups, and sometimes is used in spring salads. It is valuable as a stomachic and antispasmodic; on which account it is generally served at table with pea-soup. Several of its species grow wild in low situations in the country. MINT VINEGAR. 470. INGREDIENTS.--Vinegar, mint. _Mode_.--Procure some nice fresh mint, pick the leaves from the stalks, and fill a bottle or jar with them. Add vinegar to them until the bottle is full; _cover closely_ to exclude the air, and let it infuse for a fortnight. Then strain the liquor, and put it into small bottles for use, of which the corks should be sealed. _Seasonable_.--This should be made in June, July, or August. MIXED PICKLE. (_Very Good_.) 471. INGREDIENTS.--To each gallon of vinegar allow 1/4 lb. of bruised ginger, 1/4 lb. of mustard, 1/4 lb. of salt, 2 oz. of mustard-seed, 1-1/2 oz. of turmeric, 1 oz. of ground black pepper, 1/4 oz. of cayenne, cauliflowers, onions, celery, sliced cucumbers, gherkins, French beans, nasturtiums, capsicums. _Mode_.--Have a large jar, with a tightly-fitting lid, in which put as much vinegar as required, reserving a little to mix the various powders to a smooth paste. Put into a basin the mustard, turmeric, pepper, and cayenne; mix them with vinegar, and stir well until no lumps remain; add all the ingredients to the vinegar, and mix well. Keep this liquor in a warm place, and thoroughly stir every morning for a month with a wooden spoon, when it will be ready for the different vegetables to be added to it. As these come into season, have them gathered on a dry day, and, after merely wiping them with a cloth, to free them from moisture, put them into the pickle. The cauliflowers, it may be said, must be divided into small bunches. Put all these into the pickle raw, and at the end of the season, when there have been added as many of the vegetables as could be procured, store it away in jars, and tie over with bladder. As none of the ingredients are boiled, this pickle will not be fit to eat till 12 months have elapsed. Whilst the pickle is being made, keep a wooden spoon tied to the jar; and its contents, it may be repeated, must be stirred every morning. _Seasonable_.--Make the pickle-liquor in May or June, as the season arrives for the various vegetables to be picked. MUSHROOM KETCHUP. 472. INGREDIENTS.--To each peck of mushrooms 1/2 lb. of salt; to each quart of mushroom-liquor 1/4 oz. of cayenne, 1/2 oz. of allspice, 1/2 oz. of ginger, 2 blades of pounded mace. _Mode_.--Choose full-grown mushroom-flaps, and take care they are perfectly _fresh-gathered_ when the weather is tolerably dry; for, if they are picked during very heavy rain, the ketchup from which they are made is liable to get musty, and will not keep long. Put a layer of them in a deep pan, sprinkle salt over them, and then another layer of mushrooms, and so on alternately. Let them remain for a few hours, when break them up with the hand; put them in a nice cool place for 3 days, occasionally stirring and mashing them well, to extract from them as much juice as possible. Now measure the quantity of liquor without straining, and to each quart allow the above proportion of spices, &c. Put all into a stone jar, cover it up very closely, put it in a saucepan of boiling water, set it over the fire, and let it boil for 3 hours. Have ready a nice clean stewpan; turn into it the contents of the jar, and let the whole simmer very gently for 1/2 hour; pour it into a jug, where it should stand in a cool place till the next day; then pour it off into another jug, and strain it into very dry clean bottles, and do not squeeze the mushrooms. To each pint of ketchup add a few drops of brandy. Be careful not to shake the contents, but leave all the sediment behind in the jug; cork well, and either seal or rosin the cork, so as perfectly to exclude the air. When a very clear bright ketchup is wanted, the liquor must be strained through a very fine hair-sieve, or flannel bag, _after_ it has been very gently poured off; if the operation is not successful, it must be repeated until you have quite a clear liquor. It should be examined occasionally, and if it is spoiling, should be reboiled with a few peppercorns. _Seasonable_ from the beginning of September to the middle of October, when this ketchup should be made. _Note_.--This flavouring ingredient, if genuine and well prepared, is one of the most useful store sauces to the experienced cook, and no trouble should be spared in its preparation. Double ketchup is made by reducing the liquor to half the quantity; for example, 1 quart must be boiled down to 1 pint. This goes farther than ordinary ketchup, as so little is required to flavour a good quantity of gravy. The sediment may also be bottled for immediate use, and will be found to answer for flavouring thick soups or gravies. HOW TO DISTINGUISH MUSHROOMS FROM TOADSTOOLS.--The cultivated mushroom, known as _Agaricus campestris_, may be distinguished from other poisonous kinds of fungi by its having pink or flesh-coloured gills, or under-side, and by its invariably having an agreeable smell, which the toadstool has not. When young, mushrooms are like a small round button, both the stalk and head being white. As they grow larger, they expand their heads by degrees into a flat form, the gills underneath being at first of a pale flesh-colour, but becoming, as they stand longer, dark brown or blackish. Nearly all the poisonous kinds are brown, and have in general a rank and putrid smell. Edible mushrooms are found in closely-fed pastures, but seldom grow in woods, where most of the poisonous sorts are to be found. TO DRY MUSHROOMS. 473. _Mode_.--Wipe them clean, take away the brown part, and peel off the skin; lay them on sheets of paper to dry, in a cool oven, when they will shrivel considerably. Keep them in paper bags, which hang in a dry place. When wanted for use, put them into cold gravy, bring them gradually to simmer, and it will be found that they will regain nearly their usual size. [Illustration: THE MUSHROOM.] THE MUSHROOM.--The cultivated or garden mushroom is a species of fungus, which, in England, is considered the best, and is there usually eaten. The tribe, however, is numerous, and a large proportion of them are poisonous; hence it is always dangerous to make use of mushrooms gathered in their wild state. In some parts of Europe, as in Germany, Russia, and Poland, many species grow wild, and are used as food; but in Britain, two only are generally eaten. These are mostly employed for the flavouring of dishes, and are also dried and pickled. CATSUP, or KETCHUP, is made from them by mixing spices and salt with their juice. The young, called buttons, are the best for pickling when in the globular form. BROWN MUSHROOM SAUCE, to serve with Roast Meat, &c. 474. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of button mushrooms, 1/2 pint of good beef gravy, No. 435, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup (if at hand), thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Put the gravy into a saucepan, thicken it, and stir over the fire until it boils. Prepare the mushrooms by cutting off the stalks and wiping them free from grit and dirt; the large flap mushrooms cut into small pieces will answer for a brown sauce, when the buttons are not obtainable; put them into the gravy, and let them simmer very gently for about 10 minutes; then add the ketchup, and serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 10 minutes. _Seasonable_ from August to October. _Note_.--When fresh mushrooms are not obtainable, the powder No. 477 may be used as a substitute for brown sauce. WHITE MUSHROOM SAUCE, to serve with Boiled Fowls, Cutlets, &c. I. 475. INGREDIENTS.--Rather more than 1/2 pint of button mushrooms, lemon-juice and water, 1 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of Béchamel, No. 367, 1/4 teaspoonful of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Turn the mushrooms white by putting them into lemon-juice and water, having previously cut off the stalks and wiped them perfectly free from grit. Chop them, and put them in a stewpan with the butter. When the mushrooms are softened, add the Béchamel, and simmer for about 5 minutes; should they, however, not be done enough, allow rather more time. They should not boil longer than necessary, as they would then lose their colour and flavour. Rub the whole through a tammy, and serve very hot. After this, it should be warmed in a bain marie. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Seasonable_ from August to October. II. _A More Simple Method_. 476. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter, made with milk, No. 380; 1/2 pint of button mushrooms, 1 dessertspoonful of mushroom ketchup, if at hand; cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Make the melted butter by recipe No. 380, and add to it the mushrooms, which must be nicely cleaned, and free from grit, and the stalks cut off. Let them simmer gently for about 10 minutes, or until they are quite tender. Put in the seasoning and ketchup; let it just boil, when serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 8d. _Seasonable_ from August to October. GROWTH OF THE MUSHROOM AND OTHER FUNGI.--The quick growth of the mushroom and other fungi is no less wonderful than the length of time they live, and the numerous dangers they resist while they continue in the dormant state. To spring up "like a mushroom in a night" is a scriptural mode of expressing celerity; and this completely accords with all the observations which have been made concerning this curious class of plants. Mr. Sowerby remarks--"I have often placed specimens of the _Phallus caninus_ by a window over-night, while in the egg-form, and they have been fully grown by the morning." MUSHROOM POWDER (a valuable addition to Sauces and Gravies, when fresh Mushrooms are not obtainable). 477. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 peck of large mushrooms, 2 onions, 12 cloves, 1/4 oz. of pounded mace, 2 teaspoonfuls of white pepper. _Mode_.--Peel the mushrooms, wipe them perfectly free from grit and dirt, remove the black fur, and reject all those that are at all worm-eaten; put them into a stewpan with the above ingredients, but without water; shake them over a clear fire, till all the liquor is dried up, and be careful not to let them burn; arrange them on tins, and dry them in a slow oven; pound them to a fine powder, which put into small _dry_ bottles; cork well, seal the corks, and keep it in a dry place. In using this powder, add it to the gravy just before serving, when it will merely require one boil-up. The flavour imparted by this means to the gravy, ought to be exceedingly good. _Seasonable_.--This should be made in September, or at the beginning of October. _Note_.--If the bottles in which it is stored away are not perfectly dry, as, also the mushroom powder, it will keep good but a very short time. PICKLED MUSHROOMS. 478. INGREDIENTS.--Sufficient vinegar to cover the mushrooms; to each quart of mushrooms, 2 blades of pounded mace, 1 oz. of ground pepper, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Choose some nice young button mushrooms for pickling, and rub off the skin with a piece of flannel and salt, and cut off the stalks; if very large, take out the red inside, and reject the black ones, as they are too old. Put them in a stewpan, sprinkle salt over them, with pounded mace and pepper in the above proportion; shake them well over a clear fire until the liquor flows, and keep them there until it is all dried up again; then add as much vinegar as will cover them; just let it simmer for 1 minute, and store it away in stone jars for use. When cold, tie down with bladder and keep in a dry place; they will remain good for a length of time, and are generally considered delicious. _Seasonable_.--Make this the same time as ketchup, from the beginning of September to the middle of October. NATURE OF THE MUSHROOM.--Locality has evidently a considerable influence on the nature of the juices of the mushroom; for it has been discovered, after fatal experience, that some species, which are perfectly harmless when raised in open meadows and pasturelands, become virulently poisonous when they happen to grow in contact with stagnant water or putrescent animal and vegetable substances. What the precise nature of the poison in fungi may be, has not been accurately ascertained. A VERY RICH AND GOOD MUSHROOM SAUCE, to serve with Fowls or Rabbits. 479. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of mushroom-buttons, salt to taste, a little grated nutmeg, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 pint of cream, 2 oz. of butter, flour to thicken. _Mode_.--Rub the buttons with a piece of flannel and salt, to take off the skin; cut off the stalks, and put them in a stewpan with the above ingredients, previously kneading together the butter and flour; boil the whole for about ten minutes, stirring all the time. Pour some of the sauce over the fowls, and the remainder serve in a tureen. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ to serve with a pair of fowls. _Seasonable_ from August to October. HOW TO MIX MUSTARD. 480. INGREDIENTS.--Mustard, salt, and water. _Mode_.--Mustard should be mixed with water that has been boiled and allowed to cool; hot water destroys its essential properties, and raw cold water might cause it to ferment. Put the mustard in a cup, with a small pinch of salt, and mix with it very gradually sufficient boiled water to make it drop from the spoon without being watery. Stir and mix well, and rub the lumps well down with the back of a spoon, as well-mixed mustard should be perfectly free from these. The mustard-pot should not be more than half full, or rather less if it will not be used in a day or two, as it is so much better when freshly mixed. TARTAR MUSTARD. 481. INGREDIENTS.--Horseradish vinegar, cayenne, 1/2 a teacupful of mustard. _Mode_.--Have ready sufficient horseradish vinegar to mix with the above proportion of mustard; put the mustard in a cup, with a slight seasoning of cayenne; mix it perfectly smooth with the vinegar, adding this a little at a time; rub down with the back of a spoon any lumps that may appear, and do not let it be too thin. Mustard may be flavoured in various ways, with Tarragon, shalot, celery, and many other vinegars, herbs, spices, &c.; but this is more customary in France than in England, as there it is merely considered a "vehicle of flavours," as it has been termed. PICKLED NASTURTIUMS (a very good Substitute for Capers) 482. INGREDIENTS.--To each pint of vinegar, 1 oz. of salt, 6 peppercorns, nasturtiums. _Mode_.--Gather the nasturtium-pods on a dry day, and wipe them clean with a cloth; put them in a dry glass bottle, with vinegar, salt, and pepper in the above proportion. If you cannot find enough ripe to fill a bottle, cork up what you have got until you have some more fit: they may be added from day to day. Bung up the bottles, and seal or rosin the tops. They will be fit for use in 10 or 12 months; and the best way is to make them one season for the next. _Seasonable_.--Look for nasturtium-pods from the end of July to the end of August. [Illustration: NASTURTIUMS.] NASTURTIUMS.--The elegant nasturtium-plant, called by naturalists _Tropoeolum_, and which sometimes goes by the name of Indian cress, came originally from Peru, but was easily made to grow in these islands. Its young leaves and flowers are of a slightly hot nature, and many consider them a good adjunct to salads, to which they certainly add a pretty appearance. When the beautiful blossoms, which may be employed with great effect in garnishing dishes, are off, then the fruit is used as described in the above recipe. FRENCH ONION SAUCE, or SOUBISE. 483. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of Béchamel, No. 367, 1 bay-leaf, seasoning to taste of pounded mace and cayenne, 6 onions, a small piece of ham. _Mode_.--Peel the onions and cut them in halves; put them in a stewpan, with just sufficient water to cover them, and add the bay-leaf, ham, cayenne, and mace; be careful to keep the lid closely shut, and simmer them until tender. Take them out and drain thoroughly; rub them through a tammy or sieve (an old one does for the purpose) with a wooden spoon, and put them to 1/2 pint of Béchamel; keep stirring over the fire until it boils, when serve. If it should require any more seasoning, add it to taste. _Time_.--3/4 hour to boil the onions. _Average cost_, 10d. for this quantity. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized dish. WHITE ONION SAUCE, for Boiled Rabbits, Roast Shoulder of Mutton, &c. 484. INGREDIENTS.--9 large onions, or 12 middling-sized ones, 1 pint of melted butter made with milk (No. 380), 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, or rather more. _Mode_.--Peel the onions and put them into water to which a little salt has been added, to preserve their whiteness, and let them remain for 1/4 hour. Then put them in a stewpan, cover them with water, and let them boil until tender, and, if the onions should be very strong, change the water after they have been boiling for 1/4 hour. Drain them thoroughly, chop them, and rub them through a tammy or sieve. Make 1 pint of melted butter, by recipe No. 380, and when that boils, put in the onions, with a seasoning of salt; stir it till it simmers, when it will be ready to serve. If these directions are carefully attended to, this onion sauce will be delicious. _Time_.--From 3/4 to 1 hour, to boil the onions. _Average cost_, 9d. per pint. _Sufficient_ to serve with a roast shoulder of mutton, or boiled rabbit. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Note_.--To make this sauce very mild and delicate, use Spanish onions, which can be procured from the beginning of September to Christmas. 2 or 3 tablespoonfuls of cream added just before serving, will be found to improve its appearance very much. Small onions, when very young, may be cooked whole, and served in melted butter. A sieve or tammy should be kept expressly for onions: an old one answers the purpose, as it is liable to retain the flavour and smell, which of course would be excessively disagreeable in delicate preparations. BROWN ONION SAUCE. 485. INGREDIENTS.--6 large onions, rather more than 1/2 pint of good gravy, 2 oz. of butter, salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Slice and fry the onions of a pale brown in a stewpan, with the above quantity of butter, keeping them well stirred, that they do not get black. When a nice colour, pour over the gravy, and let them simmer gently until tender. Now skim off every particle of fat, add the seasoning, and rub the whole through a tammy or sieve; put it back in the saucepan to warm, and when it boils, serve. _Time_.--Altogether 1 hour. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Note_.--Where a very high flavouring is liked, add 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, or a small quantity of port wine. HISTORY OF THE ONION.--It is not supposed that any variety of the onion is indigenous to Britain, as when the large and mild roots imported from warmer climates, have been cultivated in these islands a few years, they deteriorate both in size and sweetness. It is therefore most likely that this plant was first introduced into England from continental Europe, and that it originally was produced in a southern climate, and has gradually become acclimatized to a colder atmosphere. (_See_ No. 139.) PICKLED ONIONS (a very Simple Method, and exceedingly Good). 486. INGREDIENTS.--Pickling onions; to each quart of vinegar, 2 teaspoonfuls of allspice, 2 teaspoonfuls of whole black pepper. _Mode_.--Have the onions gathered when quite dry and ripe, and, with the fingers, take off the thin outside skin; then, with a silver knife (steel should not be used, as it spoils the colour of the onions), remove one more skin, when the onion will look quite clear. Have ready some very dry bottles or jars, and as fast as they are peeled, put them in. Pour over sufficient cold vinegar to cover them, with pepper and allspice in the above proportions, taking care that each jar has its share of the latter ingredients. Tie down with bladder, and put them in a dry place, and in a fortnight they will be fit for use. This is a most simple recipe and very delicious, the onions being nice and crisp. They should be eaten within 6 or 8 months after being done, as the onions are liable to become soft. _Seasonable_ from the middle of July to the end of August. PICKLED ONIONS. 487. INGREDIENTS.--1 gallon of pickling onions, salt and water, milk; to each 1/2 gallon of vinegar, 1 oz. of bruised ginger, 1/4 teaspoonful of cayenne, 1 oz. of allspice, 1 oz. of whole black pepper, 1/4 oz. of whole nutmeg bruised, 8 cloves, 1/4 oz. of mace. _Mode_.--Gather the onions, which should not be too small, when they are quite dry and ripe; wipe off the dirt, but do not pare them; make a strong solution of salt and water, into which put the onions, and change this, morning and night, for 3 days, and save the _last_ brine they were put in. Then take the outside skin off, and put them into a tin saucepan capable of holding them all, as they are always better done together. Now take equal quantities of milk and the last salt and water the onions were in, and pour this to them; to this add 2 large spoonfuls of salt, put them over the fire, and watch them very attentively. Keep constantly turning the onions about with a wooden skimmer, those at the bottom to the top, and _vice versâ_; and let the milk and water run through the holes of the skimmer. Remember, the onions must never boil, or, if they do, they will be good for nothing; and they should be quite transparent. Keep the onions stirred for a few minutes, and, in stirring them, be particular not to break them. Then have ready a pan with a colander, into which turn the onions to drain, covering them with a cloth to keep in the steam. Place on a table an old cloth, 2 or 3 times double; put the onions on it when quite hot, and over them an old piece of blanket; cover this closely over them, to keep in the steam. Let them remain till the next day, when they will be quite cold, and look yellow and shrivelled; take off the shrivelled skins, when they should be as white as snow. Put them in a pan, make a pickle of vinegar and the remaining ingredients, boil all these up, and pour hot over the onions in the pan. Cover very closely to keep in all the steam, and let them stand till the following day, when they will be quite cold. Put them into jars or bottles well bunged, and a tablespoonful of the best olive-oil on the top of each jar or bottle. Tie them down with bladder, and let them stand in a cool place for a month or six weeks, when they will be fit for use. They should be beautifully white, and eat crisp, without the least softness, and will keep good many months. _Seasonable_ from the middle of July to the end of August. ORANGE GRAVY, for Wildfowl, Widgeon, Teal, &c. 488. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of white stock, No. 107, 1 small onion, 3 or 4 strips of lemon or orange peel, a few leaves of basil, if at hand, the juice of a Seville orange or lemon, salt and pepper to taste, 1 glass of port wine. _Mode_.--Put the onion, cut in slices, into a stewpan with the stock, orange-peel, and basil, and let them simmer very gently for 1/4 hour or rather longer, should the gravy not taste sufficiently of the peel. Strain it off, and add to the gravy the remaining ingredients; let the whole heat through, and, when on the point of boiling, serve very hot in a tureen which should have a cover to it. _Time_.--Altogether 1/2 hour. _Sufficient_ for a small tureen. OYSTER FORCEMEAT, for Roast or Boiled Turkey. 489. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of bread crumbs, 1-1/2 oz. of chopped suet or butter, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, 1/4 saltspoonful of grated nutmeg, salt and pepper to taste, 2 eggs, 18 oysters. _Mode_.--Grate the bread very fine, and be careful that no large lumps remain; put it into a basin with the suet, which must be very finely minced, or, when butter is used, that must be cut up into small pieces. Add the herbs, also chopped as small as possible, and seasoning; mix all these well together, until the ingredients are thoroughly mingled. Open and beard the oysters, chop them, but not too small, and add them to the other ingredients. Beat up the eggs, and, with the hand, work altogether, until it is smoothly mixed. The turkey should not be stuffed too full: if there should be too much forcemeat, roll it into balls, fry them, and use them as a garnish. _Sufficient_ for 1 turkey. OYSTER KETCHUP. 490. INGREDIENTS.--Sufficient oysters to fill a pint measure, 1 pint of sherry, 3 oz. of salt, 1 drachm of cayenne, 2 drachms of pounded mace. _Mode_.--Procure the oysters very fresh, and open sufficient to fill a pint measure; save the liquor, and scald the oysters in it with the sherry; strain the oysters, and put them in a mortar with the salt, cayenne, and mace; pound the whole until reduced to a pulp, then add it to the liquor in which they were scalded; boil it again five minutes, and skim well; rub the whole through a sieve, and, when cold, bottle and cork closely. The corks should be sealed. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Note_.--Cider may be substituted for the sherry. PICKLED OYSTERS. 491. INGREDIENTS.--100 oysters; to each 1/2 pint of vinegar, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 strip of lemon-peel, 12 black peppercorns. _Mode_.--Get the oysters in good condition, open them, place them in a saucepan, and let them simmer in their own liquor for about 10 minutes, very gently; then take them out, one by one, and place them in a jar, and cover them, when cold, with a pickle made as follows:--Measure the oyster-liquor; add to it the same quantity of vinegar, with mace, lemon-peel, and pepper in the above proportion, and boil it for 5 minutes; when cold, pour over the oysters, and tie them down very closely, as contact with the air spoils them. _Seasonable_ from September to April. _Note_.--Put this pickle away in small jars; because directly one is opened, its contents should immediately be eaten, as they soon spoil. The pickle should not be kept more than 2 or 3 months. OYSTER SAUCE, to serve with Fish, Boiled Poultry, &c. 492. INGREDIENTS.--3 dozen oysters, 1/2 pint of melted butter, made with milk, No. 380. _Mode_.--Open the oysters carefully, and save their liquor; strain it into a clean saucepan (a lined one is best), put in the oysters, and let them just come to the boiling-point, when they should look plump. Take them off the fire immediately, and put the whole into a basin. Strain the liquor from them, mix with it sufficient milk to make 1/2 pint altogether, and follow the directions of No. 380. When the melted butter is ready and very smooth, put in the oysters, which should be previously bearded, if you wish the sauce to be really nice. Set it by the side of the fire to get thoroughly hot, _but do not allow it to boil_, or the oysters will immediately harden. Using cream instead of milk makes this sauce extremely delicious. When liked, add a seasoning of cayenne, or anchovy sauce; but, as we have before stated, a plain sauce _should_ be plain, and not be overpowered by highly-flavoured essences; therefore we recommend that the above directions be implicitly followed, and no seasoning added. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. Never allow fewer than 6 oysters to 1 person, unless the party is very large. _Seasonable_ from September to April. A more economical sauce may be made by using a smaller quantity of oysters, and not bearding them before they are added to the sauce: this may answer the purpose, but we cannot undertake to recommend it as a mode of making this delicious adjunct to fish, &c. PARSLEY AND BUTTER, to serve with Calf's Head. Boiled Fowls, &c. 493. INGREDIENTS.--2 tablespoonfuls of minced parsley, 1/2 pint of melted butter, No. 376. _Mode_.--Put into a saucepan a small quantity of water, slightly salted, and when it boils, throw in a good bunch of parsley which has been previously washed and tied together in a bunch; let it boil for 5 minutes, drain it, mince the leaves very fine, and put the above quantity in a tureen; pour over it 1/2 pint of smoothly-made melted butter; stir once, that the ingredients may be thoroughly mixed, and serve. _Time_.--5 minutes to boil the parsley. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ for 1 large fowl; allow rather more for a pair. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Sometimes, in the middle of winter, parsley-leaves are not to be had, when the following will be found an excellent substitute:--Tie up a little parsley-seed in a small piece of muslin, and boil it for 10 minutes in a small quantity of water; use this water to make the melted butter with, and throw into it a little boiled spinach, minced rather fine, which will have an appearance similar to that of parsley. [Illustration: PARSLEY.] PARSLEY.--If there be nothing new under the sun, there are, at any rate, different uses found for the same thing; for this pretty aromatic herb was used in ancient times, as we learn from mythological narrative, to adorn the head of a hero, no less than Hercules; and now--was ever fall so great?--we moderns use it in connection with the head of--a calf. According to Homer's "Iliad," warriors fed their chariot-steeds on parsley; and Pliny acquaints us with the fact that, as a symbol of mourning, it was admitted to furnish the funeral tables of the Romans. Egypt, some say, first produced this herb; thence it was introduced, by some unknown voyager, into Sardinia, where the Carthaginians found it, and made it known to the inhabitants of Marseilles. (See No. 123.) FRIED PARSLEY, for Garnishing. 494. INGREDIENTS.--Parsley, hot lard or clarified dripping. _Mode_.--Gather some young parsley; wash, pick, and dry it thoroughly in a cloth; put it into the wire basket of which we have given an engraving, and hold it in boiling lard or dripping for a minute or two. Directly it is done, lift out the basket, and let it stand before the fire, that the parsley may become thoroughly crisp; and the quicker it is fried the better. Should the kitchen not be furnished with the above article, throw the parsley into the frying-pan, and when crisp, lift it out with a slice, dry it before the fire, and when thoroughly crisp, it will be ready for use. [Illustration: WIRE BASKET.] WIRE BASKET.--For this recipe, a wire basket, as shown in the annexed engraving, will be found very useful. It is very light and handy, and may be used for other similar purposes besides that described above. PARSLEY JUICE, for Colouring various Dishes. 495. Procure some nice young parsley; wash it and dry it thoroughly in a cloth; pound the leaves in a mortar till all the juice is extracted, and put the juice in a teacup or small jar; place this in a saucepan of boiling water, and warm it on the _bain marie_ principle just long enough to take off its rawness; let it drain, and it will be ready for colouring. TO PRESERVE PARSLEY THROUGH THE WINTER. 496. Use freshly-gathered parsley for keeping, and wash it perfectly free from grit and dirt; put it into boiling water which has been slightly salted and well skimmed, and then let it boil for 2 or 3 minutes; take it out, let it drain, and lay it on a sieve in front of the fire, when it should be dried as expeditiously as possible. Store it away in a very dry place in bottles, and when wanted for use, pour over it a little warm water, and let it stand for about 5 minutes. _Seasonable_.--This may be done at any time between June and October. AN EXCELLENT PICKLE. 497. INGREDIENTS.--Equal quantities of medium-sized onions, cucumbers, and sauce-apples; 1-1/2 teaspoonful of salt, 3/4 teaspoonful of cayenne, 1 wineglassful of soy, 1 wineglassful of sherry; vinegar. _Mode_.--Slice sufficient cucumbers, onions, and apples to fill a pint stone jar, taking care to cut the slices very thin; arrange them in alternate layers, shaking in as you proceed salt and cayenne in the above proportion; pour in the soy and wine, and fill up with vinegar. It will be fit for use the day it is made. _Seasonable_ in August and September. [This recipe was forwarded to the editress of this work by a subscriber to the "Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine." Mrs. Beeton, not having tested it, cannot vouch for its excellence; but the contributor spoke very highly in its favour.] SOY.--This is a sauce frequently made use of for fish, and comes from Japan, where it is prepared from the seeds of a plant called _Dolichos Soja_. The Chinese also manufacture it; but that made by the Japanese is said to be the best. All sorts of statements have been made respecting the very general adulteration of this article in England, and we fear that many of them are too true. When genuine, it is of an agreeable flavour, thick, and of a clear brown colour. PICKLED RED CABBAGE. 498. INGREDIENTS.--Red cabbages, salt and water; to each quart of vinegar, 1/2 oz. of ginger well bruised, 1 oz. of whole black pepper, and, when liked, a little cayenne. _Mode_.--Take off the outside decayed leaves of a nice red cabbage, cut it in quarters, remove the stalks, and cut it across in very thin slices. Lay these on a dish, and strew them plentifully with salt, covering them with another dish. Let them remain for 24 hours, turn into a colander to drain, and, if necessary, wipe lightly with a clean soft cloth. Put them in a jar; boil up the vinegar with spices in the above proportion, and, when cold, pour it over the cabbage. It will be fit for use in a week or two, and, if kept for a very long time, the cabbage is liable get soft and to discolour. To be really nice and crisp, and of a good red colour, it should be eaten almost immediately after it is made. A little bruised cochineal boiled with the vinegar adds much to the appearance of this pickle. Tie down with bladder, and keep in a dry place. _Seasonable_ in July and August, but the pickle will be much more crisp if the frost has just touched the leaves. RED CABBAGE.--This plant, in its growth, is similar in form to that of the white, but is of a bluish-purple colour, which, however, turns red on the application of acid, as is the case with all vegetable blues. It is principally from the white vegetable that the Germans make their _sauer kraut_; a dish held in such high estimation with the inhabitants of Vaderland, but which requires, generally speaking, with strangers, a long acquaintance in order to become sufficiently impressed with its numerous merits. The large red Dutch is the kind generally recommended for pickling. PLUM-PUDDING SAUCE. 499. INGREDIENTS.--1 wineglassful of brandy, 2 oz. of very fresh butter, 1 glass of Madeira, pounded sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Put the pounded sugar in a basin, with part of the brandy and the butter; let it stand by the side of the fire until it is warm and the sugar and butter are dissolved; then add the rest of the brandy, with the Madeira. Either pour it over the pudding, or serve in a tureen. This is a very rich and excellent sauce. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. for this quantity. _Sufficient_ for a pudding made for 6 persons. QUIN'S SAUCE, an excellent Fish Sauce. 500. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of walnut pickle, 1/2 pint of port wine, 1 pint of mushroom ketchup, 1 dozen anchovies, 1 dozen shalots, 1/4 pint of soy, 1/2 teaspoonful of cayenne. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a saucepan, having previously chopped the shalots and anchovies very small; simmer for 15 minutes, strain, and, when cold, bottle off for use: the corks should be well sealed to exclude the air. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. RAVIGOTTE, a French Salad Sauce. _Mons. Ude's Recipe_. 501. INGREDIENTS.--1 teaspoonful of mushroom ketchup, 1 teaspoonful of cavice, 1 teaspoonful of Chili vinegar, 1 teaspoonful of Reading sauce, a piece of butter the size of an egg, 3 tablespoonfuls of thick Béchamel, No. 367, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream; salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Scald the parsley, mince the leaves very fine, and add it to all the other ingredients; after mixing the whole together thoroughly, the sauce will be ready for use. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 10d. _Seasonable_ at any time. READING SAUCE. 502. INGREDIENTS.--2-1/2 pints of walnut pickle, 1-1/2 oz. of shalots, 1 quart of spring water, 3/4 pint of Indian soy, 1/2 oz. of bruised ginger, 1/2 oz. of long pepper, 1 oz. of mustard-seed, 1 anchovy, 1/2 oz. of cayenne, 1/4 oz. of dried sweet bay-leaves. _Mode_.--Bruise the shalots in a mortar, and put them in a stone jar with the walnut-liquor; place it before the fire, and let it boil until reduced to 2 pints. Then, into another jar, put all the ingredients except the bay-leaves, taking care that they are well bruised, so that the flavour may be thoroughly extracted; put this also before the fire, and let it boil for 1 hour, or rather more. When the contents of both jars are sufficiently cooked, mix them together, stirring them well as you mix them, and submit them to a slow boiling for 1/2 hour; cover closely, and let them stand 24 hours in a cool place; then open the jar and add the bay-leaves; let it stand a week longer closed down, when strain through a flannel bag, and it will be ready for use. The above quantities will make 1/2 gallon. _Time_.--Altogether, 3 hours. _Seasonable_.--This sauce may be made at any time. REMOULADE, or FRENCH SALAD-DRESSING. 503. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1/2 tablespoonful of made mustard, salt and cayenne to taste, 3 tablespoonfuls of olive-oil, 1 tablespoonful of tarragon or plain vinegar. _Mode_.--Boil 3 eggs quite hard for about 1/4 hour, put them into cold water, and let them remain in it for a few minutes; strip off the shells, put the yolks in a mortar, and pound them very smoothly; add to them, very gradually, the mustard, seasoning, and vinegar, keeping all well stirred and rubbed down with the back of a wooden spoon. Put in the oil drop by drop, and when this is thoroughly mixed with the other ingredients, add the yolk of a raw egg, and stir well, when it will be ready for use. This sauce should not be curdled; and to prevent this, the only way is to mix a little of everything at a time, and not to cease stirring. The quantities of oil and vinegar may be increased or diminished according to taste, as many persons would prefer a smaller proportion of the former ingredient. GREEN REMOULADE is made by using tarragon vinegar instead of plain, and colouring with a little parsley-juice, No. 495. Harvey's sauce, or Chili vinegar, may be added at pleasure. _Time_.--1/4 hour to boil the eggs. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 7d. _Sufficient_ for a salad made for 4 or 6 persons. [Illustration: TARRAGON.] TARRAGON.--The leaves of this plant, known to naturalists as _Artemisia dracunculus_, are much used in France as a flavouring ingredient for salads. From it also is made the vinegar known as tarragon vinegar, which is employed by the French in mixing their mustard. It originally comes from Tartary, and does not seed in France. SAGE-AND-ONION STUFFING, for Geese, Ducks, and Pork. 504. INGREDIENTS.--4 large onions, 10 sage-leaves, 1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, 1 egg. _Mode_.--Peel the onions, put them into boiling water, let them simmer for 5 minutes or rather longer, and, just before they are taken out, put in the sage-leaves for a minute or two to take off their rawness. Chop both these very fine, add the bread, seasoning, and butter, and work the whole together with the yolk of an egg, when the stuffing will be ready for use. It should be rather highly seasoned, and the sage-leaves should be very finely chopped. Many cooks do not parboil the onions in the manner just stated, but merely use them raw. The stuffing then, however, is not nearly so mild, and, to many tastes, its strong flavour would be very objectionable. When made for goose, a portion of the liver of the bird, simmered for a few minutes and very finely minced, is frequently added to this stuffing; and where economy is studied, the egg may be dispensed with. _Time_.--Rather more than 5 minutes to simmer the onions. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 4d. _Sufficient_ for 1 goose, or a pair of ducks. 505. SOYER'S RECIPE FOR GOOSE STUFFING.--Take 4 apples, peeled and cored, 4 onions, 4 leaves of sage, and 4 leaves of lemon thyme not broken, and boil them in a stewpan with sufficient water to cover them; when done, pulp them through a sieve, removing the sage and thyme; then add sufficient pulp of mealy potatoes to cause it to be sufficiently dry without sticking to the hand; add pepper and salt, and stuff the bird. SALAD DRESSING (Excellent). I. 506. INGREDIENTS.--1 teaspoonful of mixed mustard, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 2 tablespoonfuls of salad oil, 4 tablespoonfuls of milk, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Put the mixed mustard into a salad-bowl with the sugar, and add the oil drop by drop, carefully stirring and mixing all these ingredients well together. Proceed in this manner with the milk and vinegar, which must be added very _gradually_, or the sauce will curdle. Put in the seasoning, when the mixture will be ready for use. If this dressing is properly made, it will have a soft creamy appearance, and will be found very delicious with crab, or cold fried fish (the latter cut into dice), as well as with salads. In mixing salad dressings, the ingredients cannot be added _too gradually_, or _stirred too much_. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 3d. _Sufficient_ for a small salad. This recipe can be confidently recommended by the editress, to whom it was given by an intimate friend noted for her salads. SCARCITY OF SALADS IN ENGLAND.--Three centuries ago, very few vegetables were cultivated in England, and an author writing of the period of Henry VIII.'s reign, tells us that neither salad, nor carrots, nor cabbages, nor radishes, nor any other comestibles of a like nature, were grown in any part of the kingdom: they came from Holland and Flanders. We further learn, that Queen Catharine herself, with all her royalty, could not procure a salad of English growth for her dinner. The king was obliged to mend this sad state of affairs, and send to Holland for a gardener in order to cultivate those pot-herbs, in the growth of which England is now, perhaps, not behind any other country in Europe. [Illustration: THE OLIVE.] THE OLIVE AND OLIVE OIL.--This tree assumes a high degree of interest from the historical circumstances with which it is connected. A leaf of it was brought into the ark by the dove, when that vessel was still floating on the waters of the great deep, and gave the first token that the deluge was subsiding. Among the Greeks, the prize of the victor in the Olympic games was a wreath of wild olive; and the "Mount of Olives" is rendered familiar to our ears by its being mentioned in the Scriptures as near to Jerusalem. The tree is indigenous in the north of Africa, Syria, and Greece; and the Romans introduced it to Italy. In Spain and the south of France it is now cultivated; and although it grows in England, its fruit does not ripen in the open air. Both in Greece and Portugal the fruit is eaten in its ripe state; but its taste is not agreeable to many palates. To the Italian shepherd, bread and olives, with a little wine, form a nourishing diet; but in England, olives are usually only introduced by way of dessert, to destroy the taste of the viands which have been previously eaten, that the flavour of the wine may be the better enjoyed. There are three kinds of olives imported to London,--the French, Spanish, and Italian: the first are from Provence, and are generally accounted excellent; the second are larger, but more bitter; and the last are from Lucca, and are esteemed the best. The oil extracted from olives, called olive oil, or salad oil, is, with the continentals, in continual request, more dishes being prepared with than without it, we should imagine. With us, it is principally used in mixing a salad, and when thus employed, it tends to prevent fermentation, and is an antidote against flatulency. II. 507. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1 teaspoonful of mixed mustard, 1/4 teaspoonful of white pepper, half that quantity of cayenne, salt to taste, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, vinegar. _Mode_.--Boil the eggs until hard, which will be in about 1/4 hour or 20 minutes; put them into cold water, take off the shells, and pound the yolks in a mortar to a smooth paste. Then add all the other ingredients, except the vinegar, and stir them well until the whole are thoroughly incorporated one with the other. Pour in sufficient vinegar to make it of the consistency of cream, taking care to add but little at a time. The mixture will then be ready for use. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 7d. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized salad. _Note_.--The whites of the eggs, cut into rings, will serve very well as a garnishing to the salad. III. 508. INGREDIENTS.--1 egg, 1 teaspoonful of salad oil, 1 teaspoonful of mixed mustard, 1/4 teaspoonful of salt, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 6 tablespoonfuls of cream. _Mode_.--Prepare and mix the ingredients by the preceding recipe, and be very particular that the whole is well stirred. _Note_.--In making salads, the vegetables, &c., should never be added to the sauce very long before they are wanted for table; the dressing, however, may always be prepared some hours before required. Where salads are much in request, it is a good plan to bottle off sufficient dressing for a few days' consumption, as, thereby, much time and trouble are saved. If kept in a cool place, it will remain good for 4 or 5 days. POETIC RECIPE FOR SALAD.--The Rev. Sydney Smith, the witty canon of St. Paul's, who thought that an enjoyment of the good things of this earth was compatible with aspirations for things higher, wrote the following excellent recipe for salad, which we should advise our readers not to pass by without a trial, when the hot weather invites to a dish of cold lamb. May they find the flavour equal to the rhyme.-- "Two large potatoes, pass'd through kitchen sieve, Smoothness and softness to the salad give: Of mordent mustard add a single spoon, Distrust the condiment that bites too soon; But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault. To add a double quantity of salt: Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown, And twice with vinegar procured from 'town; True flavour needs it, and your poet begs, The pounded yellow of two well-boil'd eggs. Let onion's atoms lurk within the bowl, And, scarce suspected, animate the whole; And, lastly, in the flavour'd compound toss A magic spoonful of anchovy sauce. Oh! great and glorious, and herbaceous treat, 'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat. Back to the world he'd turn his weary soul, And plunge his fingers in the salad-bowl." SAUCE ALLEMANDE, or GERMAN SAUCE. 509. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of sauce tournée (No. 517), the yolks of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Put the sauce into a stewpan, heat it, and stir to it the beaten yolks of 2 eggs, which have been previously strained. Let it just simmer, but not boil, or the eggs will curdle; and after they are added to the sauce, it must be stirred without ceasing. This sauce is a general favourite, and is used for many made dishes. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_, 6d. SAUCE ARISTOCRATIQUE (a Store Sauce). 510. INGREDIENTS.--Green walnuts. To every pint of juice, 1 lb. of anchovies, 1 drachm of cloves, 1 drachm of mace, 1 drachm of Jamaica ginger bruised, 8 shalots. To every pint of the boiled liquor, 1/2 pint of vinegar, 1/4 pint of port wine, 2 tablespoonfuls of soy. _Mode_.--Pound the walnuts in a mortar, squeeze out the juice through a strainer, and let it stand to settle. Pour off the clear juice, and to every pint of it, add anchovies, spices, and cloves in the above proportion. Boil all these together till the anchovies are dissolved, then strain the juice again, put in the shalots (8 to every pint), and boil again. To every pint of the boiled liquor add vinegar, wine, and soy, in the above quantities, and bottle off for use. Cork well, and seal the corks. _Seasonable_.--Make this sauce from the beginning to the middle of July, when walnuts are in perfection for sauces and pickling. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. for a quart. MANUFACTURE OF SAUCES.--In France, during the reign of Louis XII., at the latter end of the 14th century, there was formed a company of sauce-manufacturers, who obtained, in those days of monopolies, the exclusive privilege of making sauces. The statutes drawn up by this company inform us that the famous sauce à la cameline, sold by them, was to be composed or "good cinnamon, good ginger, good cloves, good grains of paradise, good bread, and good vinegar." The sauce Tence, was to be made of "good sound almonds, good ginger, good wine, and good verjuice." May we respectfully express a hope--not that we desire to doubt it in the least--that the English sauce-manufacturers of the 19th century are equally considerate and careful in choosing their ingredients for their various well-known preparations. SAUCE A L'AURORE, for Trout, Soles, &c. 511. INGREDIENTS.--The spawn of 1 lobster, 1 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of Béchamel (No. 367), the juice of 1/2 lemon, a high seasoning of salt and cayenne. _Mode_.--Take the spawn and pound it in a mortar with the butter, until quite smooth, and work it through a hair sieve. Put the Béchamel into a stewpan, add the pounded spawn, the lemon-juice, which must be strained, and a plentiful seasoning of cayenne and salt; let it just simmer, but do not allow it to boil, or the beautiful red colour of the sauce will be spoiled. A small spoonful of anchovy essence may be added at pleasure. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. _Sufficient_ for a pair of large soles. _Seasonable_ at any time. SAUCE A LA MATELOTE, for Fish. 512. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of Espagnole (No. 411), 3 onions, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup, 1/2 glass of port wine, a bunch of sweet herbs, 1/2 bay-leaf, salt and pepper to taste, 1 clove, 2 berries of allspice, a little liquor in which the fish has been boiled, lemon-juice, and anchovy sauce. _Mode_.--Slice and fry the onions of a nice brown colour, and put them into a stewpan with the Espagnole, ketchup, wine, and a little liquor in which the fish has been boiled. Add the seasoning, herbs, and spices, and simmer gently for 10 minutes, stirring well the whole time; strain it through a fine hair sieve, put in the lemon-juice and anchovy sauce, and pour it over the fish. This sauce may be very much enriched by adding a few small quenelles, or forcemeat balls made of fish, and also glazed onions or mushrooms. These, however, should not be added to the matelote till it is dished. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--This sauce originally took its name as being similar to that which the French sailor (_matelot_) employed as a relish to the fish he caught and ate. In some cases, cider and perry were substituted for the wine. The Norman _matelotes_ were very celebrated. [Illustration: THE BAY.] THE BAY.--We have already described (see No. 180) the difference between the cherry-laurel (_Prunus Laurus cerasus_) and the classic laurel (_Laurus nobilis_), the former only being used for culinary purposes. The latter beautiful evergreen was consecrated by the ancients to priests and heroes, and used in their sacrifices. "A crown of bay" was the earnestly-desired reward for great enterprises, and for the display of uncommon genius in oratory or writing. It was more particularly sacred to Apollo, because, according to the fable, the nymph Daphne was changed into a laurel-tree. The ancients believed, too, that the laurel had the power of communicating the gift of prophecy, as well as poetic genius; and, when they wished to procure pleasant dreams, would place a sprig under the pillow of their bed. It was the symbol, too, of victory, and it was thought that the laurel could never be struck by lightning. From this word comes that of "laureate;" Alfred Tennyson being the present poet laureate, crowned with laurel as the first of living bards. SAUCE PIQUANTE, for Cutlets, Roast Meat, &c. 513. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of butter, 1 small carrot, 6 shalots, 1 small bunch of savoury herbs, including parsley, 1/2 a bay-leaf, 2 slices of lean ham, 2 cloves, 6 peppercorns, 1 blade of mace, 3 whole allspice, 4 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 1/2 pint of stock (No. 104 or 105), 1 small lump of sugar, 1/4 saltspoonful of cayenne, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Put into a stewpan the butter, with the carrot and shalots, both of which must be cut into small slices; add the herbs, bay-leaf, spices, and ham (which must be minced rather finely), and let these ingredients simmer over a slow fire, until the bottom of the stewpan is covered with a brown glaze. Keep stirring with a wooden spoon, and put in the remaining ingredients. Simmer very gently for 1/4 hour, skim off every particle of fat, strain the sauce through a sieve, and serve very hot. Care must be taken that this sauce be not made too acid, although it should possess a sharpness indicated by its name. Of course the above quantity of vinegar may be increased or diminished at pleasure, according to taste. _Time_.--Altogether 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for a medium-sized dish of cutlets. _Seasonable_ at any time. A GOOD SAUCE FOR VARIOUS BOILED PUDDINGS. 514. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 1/4 lb. of pounded sugar, a wineglassful of brandy or rum. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream, until no lumps remain; add the pounded sugar, and brandy or rum; stir once or twice until the whole is thoroughly mixed, and serve. This sauce may either be poured round the pudding or served in a tureen, according to the taste or fancy of the cook or mistress. _Average cost_, 8d. for this quantity. _Sufficient_ for a pudding. SAUCE ROBERT, for Steaks, &c. 515. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of butter, 3 onions, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 4 tablespoonfuls of gravy, or stock No. 105, salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoonful of made mustard, 1 teaspoonful of vinegar, the juice of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Put the butter into a stewpan, set it on the fire, and, when browning, throw in the onions, which must be cut into small slices. Fry them brown, but do not burn them; add the flour, shake the onions in it, and give the whole another fry. Put in the gravy and seasoning, and boil it gently for 10 minutes; skim off the fat, add the mustard, vinegar, and lemon-juice; give it one boil, and pour round the steaks, or whatever dish the sauce has been prepared for. _Time_.---Altogether 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Sufficient_ for about 2 lbs. of steak. _Note_.--This sauce will be found an excellent accompaniment to roast goose, pork, mutton cutlets, and various other dishes. A GOOD SAUCE FOR STEAKS. 516. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of whole black pepper, 1/2 oz. of allspice, 1 oz. of salt, 1/2 oz. grated horseradish, 1/2 oz. of pickled shalots, 1 pint of mushroom ketchup or walnut pickle. _Mode_.--Pound all the ingredients finely in a mortar, and put them into the ketchup or walnut-liquor. Let them stand for a fortnight, when strain off the liquor and bottle for use. Either pour a little of the sauce over the steaks or mix it in the gravy. _Seasonable_.--This can be made at any time. _Note_.--In using a jar of pickled walnuts, there is frequently left a large quantity of liquor; this should be converted into a sauce like the above, and will be found a very useful relish. THE GROWTH OF THE PEPPER-PLANT.--Our readers will see at Nos. 369 and 399, a description, with engravings, of the qualities of black and long pepper, and an account of where these spices are found. We will here say something of the manner of the growth of the pepper-plant. Like the vine, it requires support, and it is usual to plant a thorny tree by its side, to which it may cling. In Malabar, the chief pepper district of India, the jacca-tree (_Artocarpus integrifolia_) is made thus to yield its assistance, the same soil being adapted to the growth of both plants. The stem of the pepper-plant entwines round its support to a considerable height; the flexile branches then droop downwards, bearing at their extremities, as well as at other parts, spikes of green flowers, which are followed by the pungent berries. These hang in large bunches, resembling in shape those of grapes; but the fruit grows distinct, each on a little stalk, like currants. Each berry contains a single seed, of a globular form and brownish colour, but which changes to a nearly black when dried; and this is the pepper of commerce. The leaves are not unlike those of the ivy, but are larger and of rather lighter colour; they partake strongly of the peculiar smell and pungent taste of the berry. SAUCE TOURNEE. 517. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of white stock (No. 107), thickening of flour and butter, or white roux (No. 526), a faggot of savoury herbs, including parsley, 6 chopped mushrooms, 6 green onions. _Mode_.--Put the stock into a stewpan with the herbs, onions, and mushrooms, and let it simmer very gently for about 1/2 hour; stir in sufficient thickening to make it of a proper consistency; let it boil for a few minutes, then skim off all the fat, strain and serve. This sauce, with the addition of a little cream, is now frequently called velouté. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 6d. _Note_.--If poultry trimmings are at hand, the stock should be made of these; and the above sauce should not be made too thick, as it does not then admit of the fat being nicely removed. SWEET SAUCE, for Venison. 518. INGREDIENTS.--A small jar of red-currant jelly, 1 glass of port wine. _Mode_.--Put the above ingredients into a stewpan, set them over the fire, and, when melted, pour in a tureen and serve. It should not be allowed to boil. _Time_.--5 minutes to melt the jelly. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. SAUCE FOR WILDFOWL. 519. INGREDIENTS.--1 glass of port wine, 1 tablespoonful of Leamington sauce (No. 459), 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1 slice of lemon-peel, 1 large shalot cut in slices, 1 blade of mace, cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a stewpan, set it over the fire, and let it simmer for about 5 minutes; then strain and serve the sauce in a tureen. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 8d. SAUSAGE-MEAT STUFFING, for Turkey. 520. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of lean pork, 6 oz. of fat pork, both weighed after being chopped (beef suet may be substituted for the latter), 2 oz. of bread crumbs, 1 small tablespoonful of minced sage, 1 blade of pounded mace, salt and pepper to taste, 1 egg. _Mode_.--Chop the meat and fat very finely, mix with them the other ingredients, taking care that the whole is thoroughly incorporated. Moisten with the egg, and the stuffing will be ready for use. Equal quantities of this stuffing and forcemeat, No. 417, will be found to answer very well, as the herbs, lemon-peel, &c. in the latter, impart a very delicious flavour to the sausage-meat. As preparations, however, like stuffings and forcemeats, are matters to be decided by individual tastes, they must be left, to a great extent, to the discrimination of the cook, who should study her employer's taste in this, as in every other respect. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for a small turkey. SAVOURY JELLY FOR MEAT PIES. 521. INGREDIENTS.--3 lbs. of shin of beef, 1 calf's-foot, 3 lbs. of knuckle of veal, poultry trimmings (if for game pies, any game trimmings), 2 onions stuck with cloves, 2 carrots, 4 shalots, a bunch of savoury herbs, 2 bay-leaves; when liked, 2 blades of mace and a little spice; 2 slices of lean ham, rather more than 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Cut up the meat and put it into a stewpan with all the ingredients except the water; set it over a slow fire to draw down, and, when the gravy ceases to flow from the meat, pour in the water. Let it boil up, then carefully take away all scum from the top. Cover the stewpan closely, and let the stock simmer very gently for 4 hours: if rapidly boiled, the jelly will not be clear. When done, strain it through a fine sieve or flannel bag; and when cold, the jelly should be quite transparent. If this is not the case, clarify it with the whites of eggs, as described in recipe No. 109. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 5s. SHRIMP SAUCE, for Various Kinds of Fish. 522. INGREDIENTS.--1/3 pint of melted butter (No. 376), 1/4 pint of picked shrimps, cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Make the melted butter very smoothly by recipe No. 376, shell the shrimps (sufficient to make 1/4 pint when picked), and put them into the butter; season with cayenne, and let the sauce just simmer, but do not allow it to boil. When liked, a teaspoonful of anchovy sauce may be added. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. SPINACH GREEN FOR COLOURING VARIOUS DISHES. 523. INGREDIENTS.--2 handfuls of spinach. _Mode_.--Pick and wash the spinach free from dirt, and pound the leaves in a mortar to extract the juice; then press it through a hair sieve, and put the juice into a small stewpan or jar. Place this in a bain marie, or saucepan of boiling water, and let it set. Watch it closely, as it should not boil; and, as soon as it is done, lay it in a sieve, so that all the water may drain from it, and the green will then be ready for colouring. If made according to this recipe, the spinach-green will be found far superior to that boiled in the ordinary way. HOT SPICE, a Delicious Adjunct to Chops, Steaks, Gravies, &c. 524. INGREDIENTS.--3 drachms each of ginger, black pepper, and cinnamon, 7 cloves, 1/2 oz. mace, 1/4 oz. of cayenne, 1 oz. grated nutmeg, 1-1/2 oz. white pepper. _Mode_.--Pound the ingredients, and mix them thoroughly together, taking care that everything is well blended. Put the spice in a very dry glass bottle for use. The quantity of cayenne may be increased, should the above not be enough to suit the palate. [Illustration: CINNAMON.] CINNAMON.--The cinnamon-tree (_Laurus Cinnamomum_) is a valuable and beautiful species of the laurel family, and grows to the height of 20 or 30 feet. The trunk is short and straight, with wide-spreading branches, and it has a smooth ash-like bark. The leaves are upon short stalks, and are of an oval shape, and 3 to 5 inches long. The flowers are in panicles, with six small petals, and the fruit is about the size of an olive, soft, insipid, and of a deep blue. This incloses a nut, the kernel of which germinates soon after it falls. The wood of the tree is white and not very solid, and its root is thick and branching, exuding a great quantity of camphor. The inner bark of the tree forms the cinnamon of commerce. Ceylon was thought to be its native island; but it has been found in Malabar, Cochin-China, Sumatra, and the Eastern Islands; also in the Brazils, the Mauritius, Jamaica, and other tropical localities. BROWN ROUX, a French Thickening for Gravies and Sauces. 525. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of butter, 9 oz. of flour. _Mode_.--Melt the butter in a stewpan over a slow fire, and dredge in, very gradually, the flour; stir it till of a light-brown colour--to obtain this do it very slowly, otherwise the flour will burn and impart a bitter taste to the sauce it is mixed with. Pour it in a jar, and keep it for use: it will remain good some time. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 7d. WHITE ROUX, for thickening White Sauces. 526. Allow the same proportions of butter and flour as in the preceding recipe, and proceed in the same manner as for brown roux, but do not keep it on the fire too long, and take care not to let it colour. This is used for thickening white sauce. Pour it into a jar to use when wanted. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_,--A dessertspoonful will thicken a pint of gravy. _Note_.--Besides the above, sauces may be thickened with potato flour, ground rice, baked flour, arrowroot, &c.: the latter will be found far preferable to the ordinary flour for white sauces. A slice of bread, toasted and added to gravies, answers the two purposes of thickening and colouring them. SPANISH ONIONS--PICKLED. 527. INGREDIENTS.--Onions, vinegar; salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the onions in thin slices; put a layer of them in the bottom of a jar; sprinkle with salt and cayenne; then add another layer of onions, and season as before. Proceeding in this manner till the jar is full, pour in sufficient vinegar to cover the whole, and the pickle will be fit for use in a month. _Seasonable_.--May be had in England from September to February. STORE SAUCE, or CHEROKEE. 528. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 oz. of cayenne pepper, 5 cloves of garlic, 2 tablespoonfuls of soy, 1 tablespoonful of walnut ketchup, 1 pint of vinegar. _Mode_.--Boil all the ingredients _gently_ for about 1/2 hour; strain the liquor, and bottle off for use. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Seasonable_.--This sauce can be made at any time. TOMATO SAUCE--HOT, to serve with Cutlets, Roast Meats, &c. 529. INGREDIENTS.--6 tomatoes, 2 shalots, 1 clove, 1 blade of mace, salt and cayenne to taste, 1/4 pint of gravy, No. 436, or stock No. 104. _Mode_.--Cut the tomatoes in two, and squeeze the juice and seeds out; put them in a stewpan with all the ingredients, and let them simmer _gently_ until the tomatoes are tender enough to pulp; rub the whole through a sieve, boil it for a few minutes, and serve. The shalots and spices may be omitted when their flavour is objected to. _Time_.--1 hour, or rather more, to simmer the tomatoes. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. _In full season_ in September and October. [Illustration: THE TOMATO.] TOMATO, OR LOVE-APPLE.--The plant which bears this fruit is a native of South America, and takes its name from a Portuguese word. The tomato fruit is about the size of a small potato, and is chiefly used in soups, sauces, and gravies. It is sometimes served to table roasted or boiled, and when green, makes a good ketchup or pickle. In its unripe state, it is esteemed as excellent sauce for roast goose or pork, and when quite ripe, a good store sauce may be prepared from it. TOMATO SAUCE FOR KEEPING (Excellent). I. 530. INGREDIENTS.--To every quart of tomato-pulp allow 1 pint of cayenne vinegar (No. 386), 3/4 oz. of shalots, 3/4 oz. of garlic, peeled and cut in slices; salt to taste. To every six quarts of liquor, 1 pint of soy, 1 pint of anchovy sauce. _Mode_.--Gather the tomatoes quite ripe; bake them in a slow oven till tender; rub them through a sieve, and to every quart of pulp add cayenne vinegar, shalots, garlic, and salt, in the above proportion; boil the whole together till the garlic and shalots are quite soft; then rub it through a sieve, put it again into a saucepan, and, to every six quarts of the liquor, add 1 pint of soy and the same quantity of anchovy sauce, and boil altogether for about 20 minutes; bottle off for use, and carefully seal or rosin the corks. This will keep good for 2 or 3 years, but will be fit for use in a week. A useful and less expensive sauce may be made by omitting the anchovy and soy. _Time_.--Altogether 1 hour. _Seasonable_.--Make this from the middle of September to the end of October. II. 531. INGREDIENTS.--1 dozen tomatoes, 2 teaspoonfuls of the best powdered ginger, 1 dessertspoonful of salt, 1 head of garlic chopped fine, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 1 dessertspoonful of Chili vinegar (a small quantity of cayenne may be substituted for this). _Mode_.--Choose ripe tomatoes, put them into a stone jar, and stand them in a cool oven until quite tender; when cold, take the skins and stalks from them, mix the pulp with the liquor which is in the jar, but do not strain it; add all the other ingredients, mix well together, and put it into well-sealed bottles. Stored away in a cool dry place, it will keep good for years. It is ready for use as soon as made, but the flavour is better after a week or two. Should it not appear to keep, turn it out, and boil it up with a little additional ginger and cayenne. For immediate use, the skins should be put into a wide-mouthed bottle with a little of the different ingredients, and they will be found very nice for hashes or stews. _Time_.--4 or 5 hours in a cool oven. _Seasonable_ from the middle of September to the end of October. III. 532. INGREDIENTS.--3 dozen tomatoes; to every pound of tomato-pulp allow 1 pint of Chili vinegar, 1 oz. of garlic, 1 oz. of shalot, 2 oz. of salt, 1 large green capsicum, 1/2 teaspoonful of cayenne, 2 pickled gherkins, 6 pickled onions, 1 pint of common vinegar, and the juice of 6 lemons. _Mode_.--Choose the tomatoes when quite ripe and red; put them in a jar with a cover to it, and bake them till tender. The better way is to put them in the oven overnight, when it will not be too hot, and examine them in the morning to see if they are tender. Do not allow them to remain in the oven long enough to break them; but they should be sufficiently soft to skin nicely and rub through the sieve. Measure the pulp, and to each pound of pulp, add the above proportion of vinegar and other ingredients, taking care to chop very fine the garlic, shalot, capsicum, onion, and gherkins. Boil the whole together till everything is tender; then again rub it through a sieve, and add the lemon-juice. Now boil the whole again till it becomes as thick as cream, and keep continually stirring; bottle it when quite cold, cork well, and seal the corks. If the flavour of garlic and shalot is very much disliked, diminish the quantities. _Time_.--Bake the tomatoes in a cool oven all night. _Seasonable_ from the middle of September to the end of October. _Note_.--A quantity of liquor will flow from the tomatoes, which must be put through the sieve with the rest. Keep it well stirred while on the fire, and use a wooden spoon. UNIVERSAL PICKLE. 533. INGREDIENTS.--To 6 quarts of vinegar allow 1 lb. of salt, 1/4 lb. of ginger, 1 oz. of mace, 1/2 lb. of shalots, 1 tablespoonful of cayenne, 2 oz. of mustard-seed, 1-1/2 oz. of turmeric. _Mode_.--Boil all the ingredients together for about 20 minutes; when cold, put them into a jar with whatever vegetables you choose, such as radish-pods, French beans, cauliflowers, gherkins, &c. &c., as these come into season; put them in fresh as you gather them, having previously wiped them perfectly free from moisture and grit. This pickle will be fit for use in about 8 or 9 months. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Seasonable_.--Make the pickle in May or June, to be ready for the various vegetables. _Note_.--As this pickle takes 2 or 3 months to make,--that is to say, nearly that time will elapse before all the different vegetables are added,--care must be taken to keep the jar which contains the pickle well covered, either with a closely-fitting lid, or a piece of bladder securely tied over, so as perfectly to exclude the air. PICKLED WALNUTS (Very Good). 534. INGREDIENTS.--100 walnuts, salt and water. To each quart of vinegar allow 2 oz. of whole black pepper, 1 oz. of allspice, 1 oz. of bruised ginger. _Mode_.--Procure the walnuts while young; be careful they are not woody, and prick them well with a fork; prepare a strong brine of salt and water (4 lbs. of salt to each gallon of water), into which put the walnuts, letting them remain 9 days, and changing the brine every third day; drain them off, put them on a dish, place it in the sun until they become perfectly black, which will be in 2 or 3 days; have ready dry jars, into which place the walnuts, and do not quite fill the jars. Boil sufficient vinegar to cover them, for 10 minutes, with spices in the above proportion, and pour it hot over the walnuts, which must be quite covered with the pickle; tie down with bladder, and keep in a dry place. They will be fit for use in a month, and will keep good 2 or 3 years. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Seasonable_.--Make this from the beginning to the middle of July, before the walnuts harden. _Note_.--When liked, a few shalots may be added to the vinegar, and boiled with it. WALNUT KETCHUP. I. 535. INGREDIENTS.--100 walnuts, 1 handful of salt, 1 quart of vinegar, 1/4 oz. of mace, 1/4 oz. of nutmeg, 1/4 oz. of cloves, 1/4 oz. of ginger, 1/4 oz. of whole black pepper, a small piece of horseradish, 20 shalots, 1/4 lb. of anchovies, 1 pint of port wine. _Mode_.--Procure the walnuts at the time you can run a pin through them, slightly bruise, and put them into a jar with the salt and vinegar, let them stand 8 days, stirring every day; then drain the liquor from them, and boil it, with the above ingredients, for about 1/2 hour. It may be strained or not, as preferred, and, if required, a little more vinegar or wine can be added, according to taste. When bottled well, seal the corks. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Seasonable_.--Make this from the beginning to the middle of July, when walnuts are in perfection for pickling purposes. II. 536. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 sieve of walnut-shells, 2 quarts of water, salt, 1/2 lb. of shalots, 1 oz. of cloves, 1 oz. of mace, 1 oz. of whole pepper, 1 oz. of garlic. _Mode_.--Put the walnut-shells into a pan, with the water, and a large quantity of salt; let them stand for 10 days, then break the shells up in the water, and let it drain through a sieve, putting a heavy weight on the top to express the juice; place it on the fire, and remove all scum that may arise. Now boil the liquor with the shalots, cloves, mace, pepper, and garlic, and let all simmer till the shalots sink; then put the liquor into a pan, and, when cold, bottle, and cork closely. It should stand 6 months before using: should it ferment during that time, it must be again boiled and skimmed. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour. _Seasonable_ in September, when the walnut-shells are obtainable. [Illustration: THE WALNUT.] THE WALNUT.--This nut is a native of Persia, and was introduced into England from France. As a pickle, it is much used in the green state; and grated walnuts in Spain are much employed, both in tarts and other dishes. On the continent it is occasionally employed as a substitute for olive oil in cooking; but it is apt, under such circumstances, to become rancid. The matter which remains after the oil is extracted is considered highly nutritious for poultry. It is called _mare_, and in Switzerland is eaten under the name of _pain amer_ by the poor. The oil is frequently manufactured into a kind of soap, and the leaves and green husks yield an extract, which, as a brown dye, is used to stain hair, wool, and wood. WHITE SAUCE (Good). 537. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of white stock (No. 107), 1/2 pint of cream, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Have ready a delicately-clean saucepan, into which put the stock, which should be well flavoured with vegetables, and rather savoury; mix the flour smoothly with the cream, add it to the stock, season with a little salt, and boil all these ingredients very gently for about 10 minutes, keeping them well stirred the whole time, as this sauce is very liable to burn. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for a pair of fowls. _Seasonable_ at any time. WHITE SAUCE, made without Meat. 538. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of butter, 2 small onions, 1 carrot, 1/2 a small teacupful of flour, 1 pint of new milk, salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Cut up the onions and carrot very small, and put them into a stewpan with the butter; simmer them till the butter is nearly dried up; then stir in the flour, and add the milk; boil the whole gently until it thickens, strain it, season with salt and cayenne, and it will be ready to serve. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 5d. _Sufficient_ for a pair of fowls. _Seasonable_ at any time. WHITE SAUCE (a very Simple and Inexpensive Method). 539. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of milk, 1-1/2 oz. of rice, 1 strip of lemon-peel, 1 small blade of pounded mace, salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Boil the milk with the lemon-peel and rice until the latter is perfectly tender, then take out the lemon-peel and pound the milk and rice together; put it back into the stewpan to warm, add the mace and seasoning, give it one boil, and serve. This sauce should be of the consistency of thick cream. _Time_.--About 1-1/2 hour to boil the rice. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ for a pair of fowls. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: THE LEAMINGTON STOVE, OR KITCHENER.] VARIOUS MODES OF COOKING MEAT. CHAPTER XI. GENERAL REMARKS. 540. In Our "INTRODUCTION TO COOKERY" (_see_ No. 76) we have described the gradual progress of mankind in the art of cookery, the probability being, that the human race, for a long period, lived wholly on fruits. Man's means of attacking animals, even if he had the desire of slaughtering them, were very limited, until he acquired the use of arms. He, however, made weapons for himself, and, impelled by a carnivorous instinct, made prey of the animals that surrounded him. It is natural that man should seek to feed on flesh; he has too small a stomach to be supported alone by fruit, which has not sufficient nourishment to renovate him. It is possible he might subsist on vegetables; but their preparation needs the knowledge of art, only to be obtained after the lapse of many centuries. Man's first weapons were the branches of trees, which were succeeded by bows and arrows, and it is worthy of remark, that these latter weapons have been found with the natives of all climates and latitudes. It is singular how this idea presented itself to individuals so differently placed. 541. BRILLAT SAVARIN says, that raw flesh has but one inconvenience,--from its viscousness it attaches itself to the teeth. He goes on to say, that it is not, however, disagreeable; but, when seasoned with salt, that it is easily digested. He tells a story of a Croat captain, whom he invited to dinner in 1815, during the occupation of Paris by the allied troops. This officer was amazed at his host's preparations, and said, "When we are campaigning, and get hungry, we knock over the first animal we find, cut off a steak, powder it with salt, which we always have in the sabretasche, put it under the saddle, gallop over it for half a mile, and then dine like princes." Again, of the huntsmen of Dauphiny it is said, that when they are out shooting in September, they take with them both pepper and salt. If they kill a very fat bird, they pluck and season it, and, after carrying it some time in their caps, eat it. This, they declare, is the best way of serving it up. 542. SUBSEQUENTLY TO THE CROAT MODE, which, doubtless, was in fashion in the earlier ages of the world, fire was discovered. This was an accident; for fire is not, although we are accustomed to call it so, an element, or spontaneous. Many savage nations have been found utterly ignorant of it, and many races had no other way of dressing their food than by exposing it to the rays of the sun. 543. THE INHABITANTS OF THE MARIAN ISLANDS, which were discovered in 1521, had no idea of fire. Never was astonishment greater than theirs when they first saw it, on the descent of Magellan, the navigator, on one of their isles. At first they thought it a kind of animal, that fixed itself to and fed upon wood. Some of them, who approached too near, being burnt, the rest were terrified, and durst only look upon it at a distance. They were afraid, they said, of being bit, or lest that dreadful animal should wound with his violent respiration and dreadful breath; for these were the first notions they formed of the heat and flame. Such, too, probably, were the notions the Greeks originally formed of them. 544. FIRE HAVING BEEN DISCOVERED, mankind endeavoured to make use of it for drying, and afterwards for cooking their meat; but they were a considerable time before they hit upon proper and commodious methods of employing it in the preparation of their food. 545. MEAT, THEN, PLACED ON BURNING FUEL was found better than when raw: it had more firmness, was eaten with less difficulty, and the ozmazome being condensed by the carbonization, gave it a pleasing perfume and flavour. Still, however, the meat cooked on the coal would become somewhat befouled, certain portions of the fuel adhering to it. This disadvantage was remedied by passing spits through it, and placing it at a suitable height above the burning fuel. Thus grilling was invented; and it is well known that, simple as is this mode of cookery, yet all meat cooked in this way is richly and pleasantly flavoured. In Homer's time, the, art of cookery had not advanced much beyond this; for we read in the "Iliad," how the great Achilles and his friend Patroclus regaled the three Grecian leaders on bread, wine, and broiled meat. It is noticeable, too, that Homer does not speak of boiled meat anywhere in his poems. Later, however, the Jews, coming out of their captivity in Egypt, had made much greater progress. They undoubtedly possessed kettles; and in one of these, Esau's mess of pottage, for which he sold his birthright, must have been prepared. 546. HAVING THUS BRIEFLY TRACED A HISTORY OF GASTRONOMICAL PROGRESSES, we will now proceed to describe the various methods of cooking meat, and make a few observations on the chemical changes which occur in each of the operations. 547. IN THIS COUNTRY, plain boiling, roasting, and baking are the usual methods of cooking animal food. To explain the philosophy of these simple culinary operations, we must advert to the effects that are produced by heat on the principal constituents of flesh. When finely-chopped mutton or beef is steeped for some time in a small quantity of clean water, and then subjected to slight pressure, the juice of the meat is extracted, and there is left a white tasteless residue, consisting chiefly of muscular fibres. When this residue is heated to between 158° and 177° Fahrenheit, the fibres shrink together, and become hard and horny. The influence of an elevated temperature on the soluble extract of flesh is not less remarkable. When the watery infusion, which contains all the savoury constituents of the meat, is gradually heated, it soon becomes turbid; and, when the temperature reaches 133°, flakes of whitish matter separate. These flakes are _albumen_, a substance precisely similar, in all its properties, to the white of egg (see No. 101). When the temperature of the watery extract is raised to 158°, the colouring matter of the blood coagulates, and the liquid, which was originally tinged red by this substance, is left perfectly clear, and almost colourless. When evaporated, even at a gentle heat, this residual liquid gradually becomes brown, and acquires the flavour of roast meat. 548. THESE INTERESTING FACTS, discovered in the laboratory, throw a flood of light upon the mysteries of the kitchen. The fibres of meat are surrounded by a liquid which contains albumen in its soluble state, just as it exists in the unboiled egg. During the operation of boiling or roasting, this substance coagulates, and thereby prevents the contraction and hardening of the fibres. The tenderness of well-cooked meat is consequently proportioned to the amount of albumen deposited in its substance. Meat is underdone when it has been heated throughout only to the temperature of coagulating albumen: it is thoroughly done when it has been heated through its whole mass to the temperature at which the colouring matter of the blood coagulates: it is overdone when the heat has been continued long enough to harden the fibres. 549. THE JUICE OF FLESH IS WATER, holding in solution many substances besides albumen, which are of the highest possible value as articles of food. In preparing meat for the table, great care should be taken to prevent the escape of this precious juice, as the succulence and sapidity of the meat depend on its retention. The meat to be cooked should be exposed at first to a quick heat, which immediately coagulates the albumen on and near the surface. A kind of shell is thus formed, which effectually retains the whole of the juice within the meat. 550. DURING THE OPERATIONS OF BOILING, BOASTING, AND BAKING, fresh beef and mutton, when moderately fat, lose, according to Johnston, on an average about-- In boiling. In baking. In roasting. 4 lbs. of beef lose 1 lb. 1 lb. 3 oz. 1 lb. 5 oz. 4 lbs. of mutton lose 14 oz. 1 lb. 4 oz. 1 lb. 6 oz. BAKING. [Illustration: BAKING DISH.] 551. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ROASTING MEAT AND BAKING IT, may be generally described as consisting in the fact, that, in baking it, the fumes caused by the operation are not carried off in the same way as occurs in roasting. Much, however, of this disadvantage is obviated by the improved construction of modern ovens, and of especially those in connection with the Leamington kitchener, of which we give an engraving here, and a full description of which will be seen at paragraph No. 65, with the prices at which they can be purchased of Messrs. R. and J. Slack, of the Strand. With meat baked in the generality of ovens, however, which do not possess ventilators on the principle of this kitchener, there is undoubtedly a peculiar taste, which does not at all equal the flavour developed by roasting meat. The chemistry of baking may be said to be the same as that described in roasting. 552. SHOULD THE OVEN BE VERY BRISK, it will be found necessary to cover the joint with a piece of white paper, to prevent the meat from being scorched and blackened outside, before the heat can penetrate into the inside. This paper should be removed half an hour before the time of serving dinner, so that the joint may take a good colour. 553. BY MEANS OF A JAR, many dishes, which will be enumerated under their special heads, may be economically prepared in the oven. The principal of these are soup, gravies, jugged hare, beef tea; and this mode of cooking may be advantageously adopted with a ham, which has previously been covered with a common crust of flour and water. 554. ALL DISHES PREPARED FOR BAKING should be more highly seasoned than when intended to be roasted. There are some dishes which, it may be said, are at least equally well cooked in the oven as by the roaster; thus, a shoulder of mutton and baked potatoes, a fillet or breast of veal, a sucking pig, a hare, well basted, will be received by connoisseurs as well, when baked, as if they had been roasted. Indeed, the baker's oven, or the family oven, may often, as has been said, be substituted for the cook and the spit with greater economy and convenience. 555. A BAKING-DISH, of which we give an engraving, should not be less than 6 or 7 inches deep; so that the meat, which of course cannot be basted, can stew in its own juices. In the recipe for each dish, full explanations concerning any special points in relation to it will be given. BOILING. 556. BOILING, or the preparation of meat by hot water, though one of the easiest processes in cookery, requires skilful management. Boiled meat should be tender, savoury, and full of its own juice, or natural gravy; but, through the carelessness and ignorance of cooks, it is too often sent to table hard, tasteless, and innutritious. To insure a successful result in boiling flesh, the heat of the fire must be judiciously regulated, the proper quantity of water must be kept up in the pot, and the scum which rises to the surface must be carefully removed. 557. MANY WRITERS ON COOKERY assert that the meat to be boiled should be put into cold water, and that the pot should be heated gradually; but Liebig, the highest authority on all matters connected with the chemistry of food, has shown that meat so treated loses some of its most nutritious constituents. "If the flesh," says the great chemist, "be introduced into the boiler when the water is in a state of brisk ebullition, and if the boiling be kept up for a few minutes, and the pot then placed in a warm place, so that the temperature of the water is kept at 158° to 165°, we have the united conditions for giving to the flesh the qualities which best fit it for being eaten." When a piece of meat is plunged into boiling water, the albumen which is near the surface immediately coagulates, forming an envelope, which prevents the escape of the internal juice, and most effectually excludes the water, which, by mixing with this juice, would render the meat insipid. Meat treated thus is juicy and well-flavoured, when cooked, as it retains most of its savoury constituents. On the other hand, if the piece of meat be set on the fire with cold water, and this slowly heated to boiling, the flesh undergoes a loss of soluble and nutritious substances, while, as a matter of course, the soup becomes richer in these matters. The albumen is gradually dissolved from the surface to the centre; the fibre loses, more or less, its quality of shortness or tenderness, and becomes hard and tough: the thinner the piece of meat is, the greater is its loss of savoury constituents. In order to obtain well-flavoured and eatable meat, we must relinquish the idea of making good soup from it, as that mode of boiling which yields the best soup gives the driest, toughest, and most vapid meat. Slow boiling whitens the meat; and, we suspect, that it is on this account that it is in such favour with the cooks. The wholesomeness of food is, however, a matter of much greater moment than the appearance it presents on the table. It should be borne in mind, that the whiteness of meat that has been boiled slowly, is produced by the loss of some important alimentary properties. 558. THE OBJECTIONS WE HAVE RAISED to the practice of putting meat on the fire in cold water, apply with equal force to the practice of soaking meat before cooking it, which is so strongly recommended by some cooks. Fresh meat ought never to be soaked, as all its most nutritive constituents are soluble in water. Soaking, however, is an operation that cannot be entirely dispensed with in the preparation of animal food. Salted and dried meats require to be soaked for some time in water before they are cooked. 559. FOR BOILING MEAT, the softer the water is, the better. When spring water is boiled, the chalk which gives to it the quality of hardness, is precipitated. This chalk stains the meat, and communicates to it an unpleasant earthy taste. When nothing but hard water can be procured, it should be softened by boiling it for an hour or two before it is used for culinary purposes. 560. THE FIRE MUST BE WATCHED with great attention during the operation of boiling, so that its heat may be properly regulated. As a rule, the pot should be kept in a simmering state; a result which cannot be attained without vigilance. 561. THE TEMPERATURE AT WHICH WATER BOILS, under usual circumstances, is 212° Fahr. Water does not become hotter after it has begun to boil, however long or with whatever violence the boiling is continued. This fact is of great importance in cookery, and attention to it will save much fuel. Water made to boil in a gentle way by the application of a moderate heat is just as hot as when it is made to boil on a strong fire with the greatest possible violence. When once water has been brought to the boiling point, the fire may be considerably reduced, as a very gentle heat will suffice to keep the water at its highest temperature. 562. THE SCUM WHICH RISES to the surface of the pot during the operation of boiling must be carefully removed, otherwise it will attach itself to the meat, and thereby spoil its appearance. The cook must not neglect to skim during the whole process, though by far the greater part of the scum rises at first. The practice of wrapping meat in a cloth may be dispensed with if the skimming be skillfully managed. If the scum be removed as fast as it rises, the meat will be cooked clean and pure, and come out of the vessel in which it was boiled, much more delicate and firm than when cooked in a cloth. 563. WHEN TAKEN FROM THE POT, the meat must be wiped with a clean cloth, or, what will be found more convenient, a sponge previously dipped in water and wrung dry. The meat should not be allowed to stand a moment longer than necessary, as boiled meat, as well as roasted, cannot be eaten too hot. 564. THE TIME ALLOWED FOR THE OPERATION OF BOILING must be regulated according to the size and quality of the meat. As a general rule, twenty minutes, reckoning from the moment when the boiling commences, may be allowed for every pound of meat. All the best authorities, however, agree in this, that the longer the boiling the more perfect the operation. 565. A FEW OBSERVATIONS ON THE NUTRITIVE VALUE OF SALTED MEAT may be properly introduced in this place. Every housewife knows that dry salt in contact with fresh meat gradually becomes fluid brine. The application of salt causes the fibres of the meat to contract, and the juice to flow out from its pores: as much as one-third of the juice of the meat is often forced out in this manner. Now, as this juice is pure extract of meat, containing albumen, osmazome, and other valuable principles, it follows that meat which has been preserved by the action of salt can never have the nutritive properties of fresh meat. 566. THE VESSELS USED FOR BOILING should be made of cast-iron, well tinned within, and provided with closely-fitting lids. They must be kept scrupulously clean, otherwise they will render the meat cooked in them unsightly and unwholesome. Copper pans, if used at all, should be reserved for operations that are performed with rapidity; as, by long contact with copper, food may become dangerously contaminated. The kettle in which a joint is dressed should be large enough to allow room for a good supply of water; if the meat be cramped and be surrounded with but little water, it will be stewed, not boiled. 567. IN STEWING, IT IS NOT REQUISITE to have so great a heat as in boiling. A gentle simmering in a small quantity of water, so that the meat is stewed almost in its own juices, is all that is necessary. It is a method much used on the continent, and is wholesome and economical. [Illustration: BOILING-POT.] [Illustration: STEWPAN.] Two useful culinary vessels are represented above. One is a boiling-pot, in which large joints may be boiled; the other is a stewpan, with a closely-fitting lid, to which is attached a long handle; so that the cover can be removed without scalding the fingers. [Illustration: HOT-PLATE.] 568. THE HOT-PLATE is a modern improvement on the old kitchen ranges, being used for boiling and stewing. It is a plate of cast iron, having a closed fire burning beneath it, by which it is thoroughly well heated. On this plate are set the various saucepans, stewpans, &c.; and, by this convenient and economical method, a number of dishes may be prepared at one time. The culinary processes of braising and stewing are, in this manner, rendered more gradual, and consequently the substance acted on becomes more tender, and the gravy is not so much reduced. BROILING. [Illustration: REVOLVING GRIDIRON.] 569. GENERALLY SPEAKING, small dishes only are prepared by this mode of cooking; amongst these, the beef-steak and mutton chop of the solitary English diner may be mentioned as celebrated all the world over. Our beef-steak, indeed, has long crossed the Channel; and, with a view of pleasing the Britons, there is in every _carte_ at every French restaurant, by the side of _à la Marengo_, and _à la Mayonnaise,--bifteck d'Angleterre_. In order to succeed in a broil, the cook must have a bright, clear fire; so that the surface of the meat may be quickly heated. The result of this is the same as that obtained in roasting; namely, that a crust, so to speak, is formed outside, and thus the juices of the meat are retained. The appetite of an invalid, so difficult to minister to, is often pleased with a broiled dish, as the flavour and sapidity of the meat are so well preserved. 570. THE UTENSILS USED FOR BROILING need but little description. The common gridiron, for which see engraving at No. 68, is the same as it has been for ages past, although some little variety has been introduced into its manufacture, by the addition of grooves to the bars, by means of which the liquid fat is carried into a small trough. One point it is well to bear in mind, viz., that the gridiron should be kept in a direction slanting towards the cook, so that as little fat as possible may fall into the fire. It has been observed, that broiling is the most difficult manual office the general cook has to perform, and one that requires the most unremitting attention; for she may turn her back upon the stewpan or the spit, but the gridiron can never be left with impunity. The revolving gridiron, shown in the engraving, possesses some advantages of convenience, which will be at once apparent. FRYING. [Illustration: SAUTÉ PAN.] 571. THIS VERY FAVOURITE MODE OF COOKING may be accurately described as boiling in fat or oil. Substances dressed in this way are generally well received, for they introduce an agreeable variety, possessing, as they do, a peculiar flavour. By means of frying, cooks can soon satisfy many requisitions made on them, it being a very expeditious mode of preparing dishes for the table, and one which can be employed when the fire is not sufficiently large for the purposes of roasting and boiling. The great point to be borne in mind in frying, is that the liquid must be hot enough to act instantaneously, as all the merit of this culinary operation lies in the invasion of the boiling liquid, which carbonizes or burns, at the very instant of the immersion of the body placed in it. It may be ascertained if the fat is heated to the proper degree, by cutting a piece of bread and dipping it in the frying-pan for five or six seconds; and if it be firm and of a dark brown when taken out, put in immediately what you wish to prepare; if it be not, let the fat be heated until of the right temperature. This having been effected, moderate the fire, so that the action may not be too hurried, and that by a continuous heat the juices of the substance may be preserved, and its flavour enhanced. 572. THE PHILOSOPHY OF FRYING consists in this, that liquids subjected to the action of fire do not all receive the same quantity of heat. Being differently constituted in their nature, they possess different "capacities for caloric." Thus, you may, with impunity, dip your finger in boiling spirits of wine; you would take it very quickly from boiling brandy, yet more rapidly from water; whilst the effects of the most rapid immersion in boiling oil need not be told. As a consequence of this, heated fluids act differently on the sapid bodies presented to them. Those put in water, dissolve, and are reduced to a soft mass; the result being _bouillon_, stock, &c. (_see_ No. 103). Those substances, on the contrary, treated with oil, harden, assume a more or less deep colour, and are finally carbonized. The reason of these different results is, that, in the first instance, water dissolves and extracts the interior juices of the alimentary substances placed in it; whilst, in the second, the juices are preserved; for they are insoluble in oil. 573. IT IS TO BE ESPECIALLY REMEMBERED, in connection with frying, that all dishes fried in fat should be placed before the fire on a piece of blotting-paper, or sieve reversed, and there left for a few minutes, so that any superfluous greasy moisture may be removed. 574. THE UTENSILS USED FOR THE PURPOSES OF FRYING are confined to frying-pans, although these are of various sizes; and, for small and delicate dishes, such as collops, fritters, pancakes, &c., the _sauté_ pan, of which we give an engraving, is used. COOKING BY GAS. [Illustration: GAS STOVE.] 575. GAS-COOKING can scarcely now be considered a novelty,--many establishments, both small and large, have been fitted with apparatus for cooking by this mode, which undoubtedly exhibits some advantages. Thus the heat may be more regularly supplied to the substance cooking, and the operation is essentially a clean one, because there can be no cinders or other dirt to be provided for. Some labour and attention necessary, too, with a coal fire or close stove, may be saved; and, besides this, it may, perhaps, be said that culinary operations are reduced, by this means, to something like a certainty. 576. THERE ARE, HOWEVER, WE THINK, MANY OBJECTIONS to this mode of cooking, more especially when applied to small domestic establishments. For instance, the ingenious machinery necessary for carrying it out, requires cooks perfectly conversant with its use; and if the gas, when the cooking operations are finished, be not turned off, there will be a large increase in the cost of cooking, instead of the economy which it has been supposed to bring. For large establishments, such as some of the immense London warehouses, where a large number of young men have to be catered for daily, it may be well adapted, as it is just possible that a slight increase in the supply of gas necessary for a couple of joints, may serve equally to cook a dozen dishes. ROASTING. 577. OF THE VARIOUS METHODS OF PREPARING MEAT, ROASTING is that which most effectually preserves its nutritive qualities. Meat is roasted by being exposed to the direct influence of the fire. This is done by placing the meat before an open grate, and keeping it in motion to prevent the scorching on any particular part. When meat is properly roasted, the outer layer of its albumen is coagulated, and thus presents a barrier to the exit of the juice. In roasting meat, the heat must be strongest at first, and it should then be much reduced. To have a good juicy roast, therefore, the fire must be red and vigorous at the very commencement of the operation. In the most careful roasting, some of the juice is squeezed out of the meat: this evaporates on the surface of the meat, and gives it a dark brown colour, a rich lustre, and a strong aromatic taste. Besides these effects on the albumen and the expelled juice, roasting converts the cellular tissue of the meat into gelatine, and melts the fat out of the fat-cells. 578. IF A SPIT is used to support the meat before the fire, it should be kept quite bright. Sand and water ought to be used to scour it with, for brickdust and oil may give a disagreeable taste to the meat. When well scoured, it must be wiped quite dry with a clean cloth; and, in spitting the meat, the prime parts should be left untouched, so as to avoid any great escape of its juices. 579. KITCHENS IN LARGE ESTABLISHMENTS are usually fitted with what are termed "smoke-jacks." By means of these, several spits, if required, may be turned at the same time. This not being, of course, necessary in smaller establishments, a roasting apparatus, more economical in its consumption of coal, is more frequently in use. [Illustration: BOTTLE-JACK, WITH WHEEL AND HOOK.] 580. THE BOTTLE-JACK, of which we here give an illustration, with the wheel and hook, and showing the precise manner of using it, is now commonly used in many kitchens. This consists of a spring inclosed in a brass cylinder, and requires winding up before it is used, and sometimes, also, during the operation of roasting. The joint is fixed to an iron hook, which is suspended by a chain connected with a wheel, and which, in its turn, is connected with the bottle-jack. Beneath it stands the dripping-pan, which we have also engraved, together with the basting-ladle, the use of which latter should not be spared; as there can be no good roast without good basting. "Spare the rod, and spoil the child," might easily be paraphrased into "Spare the basting, and spoil the meat." If the joint is small and light, and so turns unsteadily, this may be remedied by fixing to the wheel one of the kitchen weights. Sometimes this jack is fixed inside a screen; but there is this objection to this apparatus,--that the meat cooked in it resembles the flavour of baked meat. This is derived from its being so completely surrounded with the tin, that no sufficient current of air gets to it. It will be found preferable to make use of a common meat-screen, such as is shown in the woodcut. This contains shelves for warming plates and dishes; and with this, the reflection not being so powerful, and more air being admitted to the joint, the roast may be very excellently cooked. [Illustration: DRIPPING-PAN AND BASTING-LADLE.] 581. IN STIRRING THE FIRE, or putting fresh coals on it, the dripping-pan should always be drawn back, so that there may be no danger of the coal, cinders, or ashes falling down into it. 582. UNDER EACH PARTICULAR RECIPE there is stated the time required for roasting each joint; but, as a general rule, it may be here given, that for every pound of meat, in ordinary-sized joints, a quarter of an hour may be allotted. [Illustration: HEAT-SCREEN.] 583. WHITE MEATS, AND THE MEAT OF YOUNG ANIMALS, require to be very well roasted, both to be pleasant to the palate and easy of digestion. Thus veal, pork, and lamb, should be thoroughly done to the centre. 584. MUTTON AND BEEF, on the other hand, do not, generally speaking, require to be so thoroughly done, and they should be dressed to the point, that, in carving them, the gravy should just run, but not too freely. Of course in this, as in most other dishes, the tastes of individuals vary; and there are many who cannot partake, with satisfaction, of any joint unless it is what others would call overdressed. [Illustration] [Illustration] QUADRUPEDS. CHAPTER XII. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON QUADRUPEDS. 585. BY THE GENERAL ASSENT OF MANKIND, THE EMPIRE OF NATURE has been divided into three kingdoms; the first consisting of minerals, the second of vegetables, and the third of animals. The Mineral Kingdom comprises all substances which are without those organs necessary to locomotion, and the due performance of the functions of life. They are composed of the accidental aggregation of particles, which, under certain circumstances, take a constant and regular figure, but which are more frequently found without any definite conformation. They also occupy the interior parts of the earth, as well as compose those huge masses by which we see the land in some parts guarded against the encroachments of the sea. The Vegetable Kingdom covers and beautifies the earth with an endless variety of form and colour. It consists of organized bodies, but destitute of the power of locomotion. They are nourished by means of roots; they breathe by means of leaves; and propagate by means of seed, dispersed within certain limits. The Animal Kingdom consists of sentient beings, that enliven the external parts of the earth. They possess the powers of voluntary motion, respire air, and are forced into action by the cravings of hunger or the parching of thirst, by the instincts of animal passion, or by pain. Like the vegetable kingdom, they are limited within the boundaries of certain countries by the conditions of climate and soil; and some of the species prey upon each other. Linnaeus has divided them into six classes;--Mammalia, Birds, Fishes, Amphibious Animals, Insects, and Worms. The three latter do not come within the limits of our domain; of fishes we have already treated, of birds we shall treat, and of mammalia we will now treat. 586. THIS CLASS OF ANIMALS embraces all those that nourish their young by means of lacteal glands, or teats, and are so constituted as to have a warm or red blood. In it the whale is placed,--an order which, from external habits, has usually been classed with the fishes; but, although this animal exclusively inhabits the water, and is supplied with fins, it nevertheless exhibits a striking alliance to quadrupeds. It has warm blood, and produces its young alive; it nourishes them with milk, and, for that purpose, is furnished with teats. It is also supplied with lungs, and two auricles and two ventricles to the heart; all of which bring it still closer into an alliance with the quadrupedal species of the animal kingdom. 587. THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE MAMMALIA have been frequently noticed. The bodies of nearly the whole species are covered with hair, a kind of clothing which is both soft and warm, little liable to injury, and bestowed in proportion to the necessities of the animal and the nature of the climate it inhabits. In all the higher orders of animals, the head is the principal seat of the organs of sense. It is there that the eyes, the ears, the nose, and the mouth are placed. Through the last they receive their nourishment. In it are the _teeth_, which, in most of the mammalia, are used not only for the mastication of food, but as weapons of offence. They are inserted into two movable bones called jaws, and the front teeth are so placed that their sharp edges may easily be brought in contact with their food, in order that its fibres may readily be separated. Next to these, on each side, are situated the canine teeth, or tusks, which are longer than the other teeth, and, being pointed, are used to tear the food. In the back jaws are placed another form of teeth, called grinders. These are for masticating the food; and in those animals that live on vegetables, they are flattened at the top; but, in carnivora, their upper surfaces are furnished with sharp-pointed protuberances. From the numbers, form, and disposition of the teeth, the various genera of quadrupeds have been arranged. The _nose_ is a cartilaginous body, pierced with two holes, which are called nostrils. Through these the animal is affected by the sense of smell; and in some it is prominent, whilst in others it is flat, compressed, turned upwards, or bent downwards. In beasts of prey, it is frequently longer than the lips; and in some other animals it is elongated into a movable trunk or proboscis, whilst, in the rhinoceros tribe, it is armed with a horn. The _eyes_ of quadrupeds are generally defended by movable lids, on the outer margins of which are fringes of hair, called eyelashes. The opening of the pupil is in general circular; but to some species, as in those of the Cat and Hare, it is contracted into a perpendicular line, whilst in the Horse, the Ox, and a few others, it forms a transverse bar. The _ears_ are openings, generally accompanied with a cartilage which defends and covers them, called the external ears. In water-animals the latter are wanting; sound, in them, being transmitted merely through orifices in the head, which have the name of auditory-holes. The most defenceless animals are extremely delicate in the sense of hearing, as are likewise most beasts of prey. Most of the mammiferous animals _walk_ on four feet, which, at the extremities, are usually divided into toes or fingers. In some, however, the feet end in a single corneous substance called a hoof. The toes of a few end in broad, flat nails, and of most others, in pointed claws. Some, again, have the toes connected by a membrane, which is adapted to those that are destined to pass a considerable portion of their lives in water. Others, again, as in the Bat, have the digitations of the anterior feet greatly elongated, the intervening space being filled by a membrane, which extends round the hinder legs and tail, and by means of which they are enabled to rise into the air. In Man, the hand alone comprises fingers, separate, free, and flexible; but Apes, and some other kinds of animals, have fingers both to the hands and feet. These, therefore, are the only animals that can hold movable objects in a single hand. Others, such as Rats and Squirrels, have the fingers sufficiently small and flexible to enable them to pick up objects; but they are compelled to hold them in both hands. Others, again, have the toes shorter, and must rest on the fore-feet, as is the case with dogs and cats when they wish to hold a substance firmly on the ground with their paws. There are still others that have their toes united and drawn under the skin, or enveloped in corneous hoofs, and are thereby enabled to exercise no prehensile power whatever. 588. ACCORDING TO THE DESIGN AND END OF NATURE, mammiferous animals are calculated, when arrived at maturity, to subsist on various kinds of food,--some to live wholly upon flesh, others upon grain, herbs, or fruits; but in their infant state, milk is the appropriate food of the whole. That this food may never fail them, it is universally ordained, that the young should no sooner come into the world, than the milk should flow in abundance into the members with which the mother is supplied for the secretion of that nutritious fluid. By a wonderful instinct of Nature, too, the young animal, almost as soon as it has come into life, searches for the teat, and knows perfectly, at the first, how, by the process of suction, it will be able to extract the fluid necessary to its existence. 589. IN THE GENERAL ECONOMY OF NATURE, this class of animals seems destined to preserve a constant equilibrium in the number of animated beings that hold their existence on the surface of the earth. To man they are immediately useful in various ways. Some of their bodies afford him food, their skin shoes, and their fleece clothes. Some of them unite with him in participating the dangers of combat with an enemy, and others assist him in the chase, in exterminating wilder sorts, or banishing them from the haunts of civilization. Many, indeed, are injurious to him; but most of them, in some shape or other, he turns to his service. Of these there is none he has made more subservient to his purposes than the common ox, of which there is scarcely a part that he has not been able to convert into some useful purpose. Of the horns he makes drinking-vessels, knife-handles, combs, and boxes; and when they are softened by means of boiling water, he fashions them into transparent plates for lanterns. This invention is ascribed to King Alfred, who is said to have been the first to use them to preserve his candle time-measures from the wind. Glue is made of the cartilages, gristles, and the finer pieces of the parings and cuttings of the hides. Their bone is a cheap substitute for ivory. The thinnest of the calf-skins are manufactured into vellum. Their blood is made the basis of Prussian blue, and saddlers use a fine sort of thread prepared from their sinews. The hair is used in various valuable manufactures; the suet, fat, and tallow, are moulded into candles; and the milk and cream of the cow yield butter and cheese. Thus is every part of this animal valuable to man, who has spared no pains to bring it to the highest state of perfection. [Illustration: SHORT-HORN COW.] [Illustration: SHORT-HORN BULL.] 590. AMONG THE VARIOUS BREEDS OF THE OX, upon which man has bestowed his highest powers of culture, there is now none takes a higher place than that known by the name of Short-Horns. From the earliest ages, Great Britain has been distinguished for the excellence of her native breeds of cattle, and there are none in England that have obtained greater celebrity than those which have this name, and which originated, about seventy years ago, on the banks of the Tees. Thence they have spread into the valleys of the Tweed; thence to the Lothians, in Scotland; and southward, into the fine pastures of England. They are now esteemed the most profitable breed of cattle, as there is no animal which attains sooner to maturity, and none that supplies meat of a superior quality. The value of some of the improved breeds is something enormous. At the sale of Mr. Charles Colling, a breeder in Yorkshire, in 1810, his bull "Comet" sold for 1,000 guineas. At the sale of Earl Spencer's herd in 1846, 104 cows, heifers, and calves, with nineteen bulls, fetched £8,468. 5s.; being an average of £68. 17s. apiece. The value of such animals is scarcely to be estimated by those who are unacquainted with the care with which they are tended, and with the anxious attention which is paid to the purity of their breed. A modern writer, well acquainted with this subject, says, "There are now, at least, five hundred herds, large and small, in this kingdom, and from six to seven thousand head registered every alternate year in the herd-book." The necessity for thus recording the breeds is greater than might, at first sight, be imagined, as it tends directly to preserve the character of the cattle, while it sometimes adds to the value and reputation of the animal thus entered. Besides, many of the Americans, and large purchasers for the foreign market, will not look at an animal without the breeder has taken care to qualify him for such reference. Of short-horned stock, there is annually sold from £40,000 to £50,000 worth by public auction, independent of the vast numbers disposed of by private contract. The brood is highly prized in Belgium, Prussia, France, Italy, and Russia; it is imported into most of the British colonies, and is greatly esteemed both for its meat and its dairy produce, wherever it is known. The quickness with which it takes on flesh, and the weight which it frequently makes, are well known; but we may mention that it is not uncommon to tee steers of from four to five years old realize a weight of from 800 to 1,000 lbs. Such animals command from the butcher from £30 to £40 per head, according to the quality; whilst others, of two or three years old, and, of course, of less Weight, bring as much as £20 apiece. [Illustration: LONG-HORN BULL.] [Illustration: LONG-HORN COW.] 591. LONG-HORNS.--This is the prevailing breed in our midland counties and in Ireland; but they are greatly inferior to the short-horns, and are fast being supplanted by them. Even where they have been cultivated with the nicest care and brought to the greatest perfection, they are inferior to the others, and must ultimately be driven from the farm. [Illustration: ALDERNEY COW.] [Illustration: ALDERNEY BULL.] 592. THE ALDERNEY.--Among the dairy breeds of England, the Alderney takes a prominent place, not on account of the quantity of milk which it yields, but on account of the excellent quality of the cream and butter which are produced from it. Its docility is marvellous, and in appearance it greatly resembles the Ayrshire breed of Scotland, the excellence of which is supposed to be, in some degree, derived from a mixture of the Alderney blood with that breed. The distinction between them, however, lies both in the quantity and quality of the milk which they severally produce; that of the Alderney being rich in quality, and that of the Ayrshire abundant in quantity. The merit of the former, however, ends with its milk, for as a grazer it is worthless. [Illustration: GALLOWAY BULL.] [Illustration: GALLOWAY COW.] 593. SCOTTISH BREEDS.--Of these the Kyloe, which belongs to the Highlands of Scotland; the Galloway, which has been called the Kyloe without horns; and the Ayrshire, are the breeds most celebrated. The first has kept his place, and on account of the compactness of his form, and the excellent quality of his flesh, he is a great favourite with butchers who have a select family trade. It is alike unsuitable for the dairy and the arable farm; but in its native Highlands it attains to great perfection, thriving upon the scanty and coarse herbage which it gathers on the sides of the mountains. The Galloway has a larger frame, and when fattened makes excellent beef. But it has given place to the short-horns in its native district, where turnip-husbandry is pursued with advantage. The Ayrshire is peculiarly adapted for the dairy, and for the abundance of its milk cannot be surpassed in its native district. In this it stands unrivalled, and there is no other breed capable of converting the produce of a poor soil into such fine butter and cheese. It is difficult to fatten, however, and its beef is of a coarse quality. We have chosen these as among the principal representative breeds of the ox species; but there are other breeds which, at all events, have a local if not a general celebrity. [Illustration: SIDE OF BEEF, SHOWING THE SEVERAL JOINTS.] 594. The general Mode of Slaughtering Oxen in this country is by striking them a smart blow with a hammer or poleaxe on the head, a little above the eyes. By this means, when the blow is skilfully given, the beast is brought down at one blow, and, to prevent recovery, a cane is generally inserted, by which the spinal cord is perforated, which instantly deprives the ox of all sensation of pain. In Spain, and some other countries on the continent, it is also usual to deprive oxen of life by the operation of pithing or dividing the spinal cord in the neck, close to the back part of the head. This is, in effect, the same mode as is practised in the celebrated Spanish bull-fights by the matador, and it is instantaneous in depriving the animal of sensation, if the operator be skilful. We hope and believe that those men whose disagreeable duty it is to slaughter the "beasts of the field" to provide meat for mankind, inflict as little punishment and cause as little suffering as possible. 595. THE MANNER IN WHICH A SIDE OF BEEF is cut up in London, is shown in the engraving on this page. In the metropolis, on account of the large number of its population possessing the means to indulge in the "best of everything," the demand for the most delicate joints of meat is great, the price, at the same time, being much higher for these than for the other parts. The consequence is, that in London the carcass is there divided so as to obtain the greatest quantity of meat on the most esteemed joints. In many places, however, where, from a greater equality in the social condition and habits of the inhabitants, the demand and prices for the different parts of the carcasses are more equalized, there is not the same reason for the butcher to cut the best joints so large. 596. THE MEAT ON THOSE PARTS OF THE ANIMAL in which the muscles are least called into action, is most tender and succulent; as, for instance, along the back, from the rump to the hinder part of the shoulder; whilst the limbs, shoulder, and neck, are the toughest, driest, and least-esteemed. 597. THE NAMES OF THE SEVERAL JOINTS in the hind and fore quarters of a side of beef, and the purposes for which they are used, are as follows:-- HIND QUARTER. 1. Sirloin.--The two sirloins, cut together in one joint, form a baron; this, when roasted, is the famous national dish of Englishmen, at entertainments, on occasion of rejoicing. 2. Rump,--the finest part for steaks. 3. Aitch-bone,--boiling piece. 4. Buttock,--prime boiling piece. 5. Mouse-round,--boiling or stewing. 6. Hock,--stewing. 7. Thick flank, cut with the udder-fat,--primest boiling piece. 8. Thin flank,--boiling. FORE QUARTER. 9. Five ribs, called the fore-rib.--This is considered the primest roasting piece. 10. Four ribs, called the middle-rib,--greatly esteemed by housekeepers as the most economical joint for roasting. 11. Two ribs, called the chuck-rib,--used for second quality of steaks. 12. Leg-of-mutton piece,--the muscles of the shoulder dissected from the breast. 13. Brisket, or breast,--used for boiling, after being salted. 14. Neck, clod, and sticking-piece,--used for soups, gravies, stocks, pies, and mincing for sausages. 15. Shin,--stewing. The following is a classification of the qualities of meat, according to the several joints of beef, when cut up in the London manner. _First class_.--includes the sirloin, with the kidney suet (1), the rump-steak piece (2), the fore-rib (9). _Second class_.--The buttock (4), the thick flank (7), the middle-rib (10). _Third class_.--The aitch-bone (3), the mouse-round (5), the thin flank (8), the chuck (11), the leg-of-mutton piece (12), the brisket (13). _Fourth class_.--The neck, clod, and sticking-piece (14). _Fifth class_.--The hock (6), the shin (15). RECIPES. CHAPTER XIII. BAKED BEEF (Cold Meat Cookery). I. 598. INGREDIENTS.--About 2 lbs. of cold roast beef, 2 small onions, 1 large carrot or two small ones, 1 turnip, a small bunch of savoury herbs, salt and pepper to taste, 4 tablespoonfuls of gravy, 3 tablespoonfuls of ale, crust or mashed potatoes. _Mode_.--Cut the beef in slices, allowing a small amount of fat to each slice; place a layer of this in the bottom of a pie-dish, with a portion of the onions, carrots, and turnips, which must be sliced; mince the herbs, strew them over the meat, and season with pepper and salt. Then put another layer of meat, vegetables, and seasoning; and proceed in this manner until all the ingredients are used. Pour in the gravy and ale (water may be substituted for the former, but it is not so nice), cover with a crust or mashed potatoes, and bake for 1/2 hour, or rather longer. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--It is as well to parboil the carrots and turnips before adding them to the meat, and to use some of the liquor in which they were boiled as a substitute for gravy; that is to say, when there is no gravy at hand. Be particular to cut the onions in very _thin_ slices. II. 599. INGREDIENTS.--Slices of cold roast beef, salt and pepper to taste, 1 sliced onion, 1 teaspoonful of minced savoury herbs, 5 or 6 tablespoonfuls of gravy or sauce of any kind, mashed potatoes. _Mode_.--Butter the sides of a deep dish, and spread mashed potatoes over the bottom of it; on this place layers of beef in thin slices (this may be minced if there is not sufficient beef to cut into slices), well seasoned with pepper and salt, and a very little onion end herbs, which should be previously fried of a nice brown; then put another layer of mashed potatoes, and beef, and other ingredients, as before; pour in the gravy or sauce, cover the whole with another layer of potatoes, and bake for 1/2 hour. This may be served in the dish, or turned out. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold beef, 6d. _Sufficient_.--A large pie-dish full for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BEEF.--The quality of beef depends on various circumstances; such as the age, the sex, the breed of the animal, and also on the food upon which it has been raised. Bull beef is, in general, dry and tough, and by no means possessed of an agreeable flavour; whilst the flesh of the ox is not only highly nourishing and digestible, but, if not too old, extremely agreeable. The flesh of the cow is, also, nourishing, but it is not so agreeable as that of the ox, although that of a heifer is held in high estimation. The flesh of the smaller breeds is much sweeter than that of the larger, which is best when the animal is about seven years old. That of the smaller breeds is best at about five years, and that of the cow can hardly be eaten too young. BAKED BEEF-STEAK PUDDING. 600. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of flour, 2 eggs, not quite 1 pint of milk, salt to taste, 1-1/2 lb. of rump-steaks, 1 kidney, pepper and salt. _Mode_.--Cut the steaks into nice square pieces, with a small quantity of fat, and the kidney divide into small pieces. Make a batter of flour, eggs, and milk in the above proportion; lay a little of it at the bottom of a pie-dish; then put in the steaks and kidney, which should be well seasoned with pepper and salt, and pour over the remainder of the batter, and bake for 1-1/2 hour in a brisk but not fierce oven. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BEEF A LA MODE. (_Economical_.) 601. INGREDIENTS.--About 3 lbs. of clod or sticking of beef, 2 oz. of clarified dripping, 1 large onion, flour, 2 quarts of water, 12 berries of allspice, 2 bay-leaves, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole black pepper, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the beef into small pieces, and roll them in flour; put the dripping into a stewpan with the onion, which should be sliced thin. Let it get quite hot; lay in the pieces of beef, and stir them well about. When nicely browned all over, add _by degrees_ boiling water in the above proportion, and, as the water is added, keep the whole well stirred. Put in the spice, bay-leaves, and seasoning, cover the stewpan closely, and set it by the side of the fire to stew very _gently_, till the meat becomes quite tender, which will be in about 3 hours, when it will be ready to serve. Remove the bay-leaves before it is sent to table. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BEEF A LA MODE. 602. INGREDIENTS.--6 or 7 lbs. of the thick flank of beef, a few slices of fat bacon, 1 teacupful of vinegar, black pepper, allspice, 2 cloves well mixed and finely pounded, making altogether 1 heaped teaspoonful; salt to taste, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, including parsley, all finely minced and well mixed; 3 onions, 2 large carrots, 1 turnip, 1 head of celery, 1-1/2 pint of water, 1 glass of port wine. _Mode_.--Slice and fry the onions of a pale brown, and cut up the other vegetables in small pieces, and prepare the beef for stewing in the following manner:--Choose a fine piece of beef, cut the bacon into long slices, about an inch in thickness, dip them into vinegar, and then into a little of the above seasoning of spice, &c., mixed with the same quantity of minced herbs. With a sharp knife make holes deep enough to let in the bacon; then rub the beef over with the remainder of the seasoning and herbs, and bind it up in a nice shape with tape. Have ready a well-tinned stewpan (it should not be much larger than the piece of meat you are cooking), into which put the beef, with the vegetables, vinegar, and water. Let it simmer _very gently_ for 5 hours, or rather longer, should the meat not be extremely tender, and turn it once or twice. When ready to serve, take out the beef, remove the tape, and put it on a hot dish. Skim off every particle of fat from the gravy, add the port wine, just let it boil, pour it over the beef, and it is ready to serve. Great care must be taken that this does not boil fast, or the meat will be tough and tasteless; it should only just bubble. When convenient, all kinds of stews, &c., should be cooked on a hot-plate, as the process is so much more gradual than on an open fire. _Time_.--5 hours, or rather more. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but more suitable for a winter dish. GOOD MEAT.--The lyer of meat when freshly killed, and the animal, when slaughtered, being in a state of perfect health, adheres firmly to the bones. Beef of the best quality is of a deep-red colour; and when the animal has approached maturity, and been well fed, the lean is intermixed with fat, giving it the mottled appearance which is so much esteemed. It is also full of juice, which resembles in colour claret wine. The fat of the best beef is of a firm and waxy consistency, of a colour resembling that of the finest grass butter; bright in appearance, neither greasy nor friable to the touch, but moderately unctuous, in a medium degree between the last-mentioned properties. BEEF-STEAKS AND OYSTER SAUCE. 603. INGREDIENTS.--3 dozen oysters, ingredients for oyster sauce (see No. 492), 2 lbs. of rump-steak, seasoning to taste of pepper and salt. _Mode_.--Make the oyster sauce by recipe No. 492, and when that is ready, put it by the side of the fire, but do not let it keep boiling. Have the steaks cut of an equal thickness, broil them over a very clear fire, turning them often, that the gravy may not escape. In about 8 minutes they will be done, then put them on a very hot dish; smother with the oyster sauce, and the remainder send to table in a tureen. Serve quickly. _Time_.--About 8 to 10 minutes, according to the thickness of the steak. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to April. BEEF-STEAK PIE. 604. INGREDIENTS.--3 lbs. of rump-steak, seasoning to taste of salt, cayenne, and black pepper, crust, water, the yolk of an egg. _Mode_.--Have the steaks cut from a rump that has hung a few days, that they may be tender, and be particular that every portion is perfectly sweet. Cut the steaks into pieces about 3 inches long and 2 wide, allowing a _small_ piece of fat to each piece of lean, and arrange the meat in layers in a pie-dish. Between each layer sprinkle a seasoning of salt, pepper, and, when liked, a few grains of cayenne. Fill the dish sufficiently with meat to support the crust, and to give it a nice raised appearance when baked, and not to look flat and hollow. Pour in sufficient water to half fill the dish, and border it with paste (see Pastry); brush it over with a little water, and put on the cover; slightly press down the edges with the thumb, and trim off close to the dish. Ornament the pie with leaves, or pieces of paste cut in any shape that fancy may direct, brush it over with the beaten yolk of an egg; make a hole in the top of the crust, and bake in a hot oven for about 1-1/2 hour. _Time_.--In a hot oven, 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, for this size, 3s 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. Note.--Beef-steak pies may be flavoured in various ways, with oysters and their liquor, mushrooms, minced onions, &c. For family pies, suet may be used instead of butter or lard for the crust, and clarified beef-dripping answers very well where economy is an object. Pieces of underdone roast or boiled meat may in pies be used very advantageously; but always remove the bone from pie-meat, unless it be chicken or game. We have directed that the meat shall be cut smaller than is usually the case; for on trial we have found it much more tender, more easily helped, and with more gravy, than when put into the dish in one or two large steaks. [Illustration: SHERRY PUDDING DISH.] BEEF-STEAK AND KIDNEY PUDDING. 605. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of rump-steak, 2 kidneys, seasoning to taste of salt and black pepper, suet crust made with milk (see Pastry), in the proportion of 6 oz. of suet to each 1 lb. of flour. _Mode_.--Procure some tender rump steak (that which has been hung a little time), and divide it into pieces about an inch square, and cut each kidney into 8 pieces. Line the dish (of which we have given an engraving) with crust made with suet and flour in the above proportion, leaving a small piece of crust to overlap the edge. Then cover the bottom with a portion of the steak and a few pieces of kidney; season with salt and pepper (some add a little flour to thicken the gravy, but it is not necessary), and then add another layer of steak, kidney, and seasoning. Proceed in this manner till the dish is full, when pour in sufficient water to come within 2 inches of the top of the basin. Moisten the edges of the crust, cover the pudding over, press the two crusts together, that the gravy may not escape, and turn up the overhanging paste. Wring out a cloth in hot water, flour it, and tie up the pudding; put it into boiling water, and let it boil for at least 4 hours. If the water diminishes, always replenish with some, hot in a jug, as the pudding should be kept covered all the time, and not allowed to stop boiling. When the cloth is removed, cut out a round piece in the top of the crust, to prevent the pudding bursting, and send it to table in the basin, either in an ornamental dish, or with a napkin pinned round it. Serve quickly. _Time_.--For a pudding with 2 lbs. of steak and 2 kidneys allow 4 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. 8d. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but more suitable in winter. Note.--Beef-steak pudding may be very much enriched by adding a few oysters or mushrooms. The above recipe was contributed to this work by a Sussex lady, in which county the inhabitants are noted for their savoury puddings. It differs from the general way of making them, as the meat is cut up into very small pieces and the basin is differently shaped: on trial, this pudding will be found far nicer, and more full of gravy, than when laid in large pieces in the dish. BAD MEAT. In the flesh of animals slaughtered whilst suffering acute inflammation or fever, the hollow fibres, or capillaries, as they are called, which form the substance of the lyer, are filled with congested and unassimilated animal fluid, which, from its impurity, gives the lyer a dark colour, and produces a tendency to rapid putrefaction. In a more advanced stage of such disease, serous, and sometimes purulent matter, is formed in the cellular tissues between the muscles of the flesh; and when such is the case, nothing can be more poisonous than such abominable carrion. In the flesh of animals killed whilst under the influence of any disease of an emaciating effect, the lyer adheres but slightly to the bones, with its fibres contracted and dry; and the little fat that there may be is friable, and shrunk within its integuments. The flesh of animals slaughtered whilst under considerable depression of vital energy (as from previous bleeding) has a diminished tendency to stiffen after death, the feebleness of this tendency being in proportion to the degree of depression. It presents, also, an unnatural blue or pallid appearance, has a faint and slightly sour smell, and soon becomes putrid. When an animal has died otherwise than by slaughtering, its flesh is flaccid and clammy, emits a peculiar faint and disagreeable smell, and, it need scarcely be added, spontaneous decomposition proceeds very rapidly. BEEF-STEAKS WITH FRIED POTATOES, or BIFTEK AUX POMMES-DE-TERRE (a la mode Francaise). 606. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of steak, 8 potatoes, 1/4 lb. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoonful of minced herbs. _Mode_.--Put the butter into a frying or _sauté_ pan, set it over the fire, and let it get very hot; peel, and cut the potatoes into long thin slices; put them into the hot butter, and fry them till of a nice brown colour. Now broil the steaks over a bright clear fire, turning them frequently, that every part may be equally done: as they should not be thick, 5 minutes will broil them. Put the herbs and seasoning in the butter the potatoes were fried in, pour it under the steak, and place the fried potatoes round, as a garnish. To have this dish in perfection, a portion of the fillet of the sirloin should be used, as the meat is generally so much more tender than that of the rump, and the steaks should be cut about 1/3 of an inch in thickness. _Time_.--5 minutes to broil the steaks, and about the same time to fry the potatoes. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year; but not so good in warm weather, as the meat cannot hang to get tender. [Illustration: AITCH-BONE OF BEEF.] BOILED AITCH-BONE OF BEEF. 607. INGREDIENTS.--Beef, water. _Mode_.--After this joint has been in salt 5 or 6 days, it will be ready for use, and will not take so long boiling: as a round, for it is not so solid. Wash the meat, and, if too salt, soak it for a few hours, changing the water once or twice, till the required freshness is obtained. Put into a saucepan, or boiling-pot, sufficient water to cover the meat; set it over the fire, and when it boils, plunge in the joint (see No. 557), and let it boil up quickly. Now draw the pot to the side of the fire, and let the process be very gradual, as the water must only simmer, or the meat will be hard and tough. Carefully remove the scum from the surface of the water, and continue doing this for a few minutes after it first boils. Carrots and turnips are served with this dish, and sometimes suet dumplings, which may be boiled with the beef. Garnish with a few of the carrots and turnips, and serve the remainder in a vegetable-dish. _Time_.--An aitch-bone of 10 lbs., 2-1/2 hours after the water boils; one of 20 lbs., 4 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--10 lbs. for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best from September to March. _Note_.--The liquor in which the meat has been boiled may be easily converted into a very excellent pea-soup. It will require very few vegetables, as it will be impregnated with the flavour of those boiled with the meat. THE ACTION OF SALT ON MEAT.--The manner in which salt acts in preserving meat is not difficult to understand. By its strong affinity, it, in the first place, extracts the juices from the substance of meat in sufficient quantity to form a saturated solution with the water contained in the juice, and the meat then absorbs the saturated brine in place of the juice extracted by the salt. In this way, matter incapable of putrefaction takes the places of that portion in the meat which is most perishable. Such, however, is not the only office of salt as a means of preserving meat; it acts also by its astringency in contracting the fibres of the muscles, and so excludes the action of air on the interior of the substance of the meat. The last-mentioned operation of salt as an antiseptic is evinced by the diminution of the volume of meat to which it is applied. The astringent action of _saltpetre_ on meat is much greater than that of salt, and thereby renders meat to which it is applied very hard; but, in small quantities, it considerably assists the antiseptic action of salt, and also prevents the destruction of the florid colour of meat, which is caused by the application of salt. Thus, it will be perceived, from the foregoing statement, that the application of salt and saltpetre diminishes, in a considerable degree, the nutritive, and, to some extent, the wholesome qualities of meat; and, therefore, in their use, the quantity applied should be as small as possible, consistent with the perfect preservation of the meat. BOILED ROUND OF BEEF. 608. INGREDIENTS.--Beef, water. _Mode_.--As a whole round of beef, generally speaking, is too large for small families, and very seldom required, we here give the recipe for dressing a portion of the silver side of the round. Take from 12 to 16 lbs., after it has been in salt about 10 days; just wash off the salt, skewer it up in a nice round-looking form, and bind it with tape to keep the skewers in their places. Put it in a saucepan of boiling water, as in the preceding recipe, set it upon a good fire, and when it begins to boil, carefully remove all scum from the surface, as, if this is not attended to, it sinks on to the meat, and when brought to table, presents a very unsightly appearance. When it is well skimmed, draw the pot to the corner of the fire, and let it simmer very gently until done. Remove the tape and skewers, which should be replaced by a silver one; pour over a little of the pot-liquor, and garnish with carrots. (_See_ coloured plate 2.) Carrots, turnips, parsnips, and sometimes suet dumplings, accompany this dish; and these may all be boiled with the beef. The pot-liquor should be saved, and converted into pea-soup; and the outside slices, which are generally hard, and of an uninviting appearance, may be out off before being sent to table, and potted. These make an excellent relish for the breakfast or luncheon table. _Time_.--Part of a round of beef weighing 12 lbs., about 3 hours after the water boils. _Average cost_, 8d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 10 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but more suitable for winter. 609. SOYER'S RECIPE FOR PRESERVING THE GRAVY IN SALT MEAT, WHEN IT IS TO BE SERVED COLD.--Fill two tubs with cold water, into which throw a few pounds of rough ice; and when the meat is done, put it into one of the tubs of ice-water; let it remain 1 minute, when take out, and put it into the other tub. Fill the first tub again with water, and continue this process for about 20 minutes; then set it upon a dish, and let it remain until quite cold. When cut, the fat will be as white as possible, besides having saved the whole, of the gravy. If there is no ice, spring water will answer the same purpose, but will require to be more frequently changed. _Note_.--The BRISKET and RUMP may be boiled by the above recipe; of course allowing more or less time, according to the size of the joint. BEEF CAKE. 610. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast beef; to each pound of cold meat allow 1/4 lb. of bacon or ham; seasoning to taste of pepper and salt, 1 small bunch of minced savoury herbs, 1 or 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Mince the beef very finely (if underdone it will be better), add to it the bacon, which must also be chopped very small, and mix well together. Season, stir in the herbs, and bind with an egg, or 2 should 1 not be sufficient. Make it into small square cakes, about 1/2 inch thick, fry them in hot dripping, and serve in a dish with good gravy poured round them. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. BROILED BEEF-STEAKS or RUMP-STEAKS. 611. INGREDIENTS.--Steaks, a piece of butter the size of a walnut, salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of good mushroom ketchup or Harvey's sauce. _Mode_.--As the success of a good broil so much depends on the state of the fire, see that it is bright and clear, and perfectly free from smoke, and do not add any fresh fuel just before you require to use the gridiron. Sprinkle a little salt over the fire, put on the gridiron for a few minutes, to get thoroughly hot through; rub it with a piece of fresh, suet, to prevent the meat from sticking, and lay on the steaks, which should be cut of an equal thickness, about 3/4 of an inch, or rather thinner, and level them by beating them as _little_ as possible with a rolling-pin. Turn them frequently with steak-tongs (if these are not at hand, stick a fork in the edge of the fat, that no gravy escapes), and in from 8 to 10 minutes they will be done. Have ready a very hot dish, into which put the ketchup, and, when liked, a little minced shalot; dish up the steaks, rub them over with butter, and season with pepper and salt. The exact time for broiling steaks must be determined by taste, whether they are liked underdone or well done; more than from 8 to 10 minutes for a steak 3/4 inch in thickness, we think, would spoil and dry up the juices of the meat. Great expedition is necessary in sending broiled steaks to table; and, to have them in perfection, they should not be cooked till everything else prepared for dinner has been dished up, as their excellence entirely depends on their being served very hot. Garnish with scraped horseradish, or slices of cucumber. Oyster, tomato, onion, and many other sauces, are frequent accompaniments to rump-steak, but true lovers of this English dish generally reject all additions but pepper and salt. _Time_.--8 to 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1/2 lb. to each person; if the party consist entirely of gentlemen, 3/4 lb. will not be too much. _Seasonable_ all the year, but not good in the height of summer, as the meat cannot hang long enough to be tender. DIFFERENT SEASONS FOR BEEF.--We have already stated (see No. 593) that the Scots breed of oxen, like the South-down in mutton, stands first in excellence. It should be borne in mind, however, that each county has its particular season, and that the London and other large markets are always supplied by those counties whose meat, from local circumstances, is in the best condition at the time. Thus, the season in Norfolk, from which the Scots come (these being the principal oxen bred by the Norfolk and Suffolk graziers), commences about Christmas and terminates about June, when this breed begins to fall off, their place being taken by grass-fed oxen. A large quantity of most excellent meat is sent to the "dead markets" from Scotland, and some of the best London butchers are supplied from this source. BROILED BEEF AND MUSHROOM SAUCE. (Cold Meat Cookery). 612. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 dozen small button mushrooms, 1 oz. of butter, salt and cayenne to taste, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, mashed potatoes, slices of cold roast beef. _Mode_.--Wipe the mushrooms free from grit with a piece of flannel, and salt; put them in a stewpan with the butter, seasoning, and ketchup; stir over the fire until the mushrooms are quite done, when pour it in the middle of mashed potatoes, browned. Then place round the potatoes slices of cold roast beef, nicely broiled, over a clear fire. In making the mushroom sauce, the ketchup may be dispensed with, if there is sufficient gravy. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 8d. _Seasonable_ from August to October. BROILED BEEF AND OYSTER SAUCE (Cold Meat Cookery). 613. INGREDIENTS.--2 dozen oysters, 3 cloves, 1 blade of mace, 2 oz. of butter, 1/2 teaspoonful of flour, cayenne and salt to taste, mashed potatoes, a few slices of cold roast beef. _Mode_.--Put the oysters in a stewpan, with their liquor strained; add the cloves, mace, butter, flour, and seasoning, and let them simmer gently for 5 minutes. Have ready in the centre of a dish round walls of mashed potatoes, browned; into the middle pour the oyster sauce, quite hot, and round the potatoes place, in layers, slices of the beef, which should be previously broiled over a nice clear fire. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s, 6d., exclusive of the cold meat. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to April. BROILED BEEF-BONES. 614. INGREDIENTS.--The bones of ribs or sirloin; salt, pepper, and cayenne. _Mode_.--Separate the bones, taking care that the meat on them is not too thick in any part; sprinkle them well with the above seasoning, and broil over a very clear fire. When nicely browned they are done; but do not allow them to blacken. TO DRESS A BULLOCK'S HEART. 615. INGREDIENTS.--1 heart, stuffing of veal forcemeat, No. 417. _Mode_.--Put the heart into warm water to soak for 2 hours; then wipe it well with a cloth, and, after cutting off the lobes, stuff the inside with a highly-seasoned forcemeat (No. 417). Fasten it in, by means of a needle and coarse thread; tie the heart up in paper, and set it before a good fire, being very particular to keep it well basted, or it will eat dry, there being very little of its own fat. Two or three minutes before serving, remove the paper, baste well, and serve with good gravy and red-currant jelly or melted butter. If the heart is very large, it will require 2 hours, and, covered with a caul, may be baked as well as roasted. _Time_.--Large heart, 2 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Note_.--This is an excellent family dish, is very savoury, and, though not seen at many good tables, may be recommended for its cheapness and economy. BUBBLE-AND-SQUEAK (Cold Meat Cookery). 616. INGREDIENTS.--A few thin slices of cold boiled beef; butter, cabbage, 1 sliced onion, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Fry the slices of beef gently in a little butter, taking care not to dry them up. Lay them on a flat dish, and cover with fried greens. The greens may be prepared from cabbage sprouts or green savoys. They should be boiled till tender, well drained, minced, and placed, till quite hot, in a frying-pan, with butter, a sliced onion, and seasoning of pepper and salt. When the onion is done, it is ready to serve. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold beef, 3d. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: COLLARED BEEF.] COLLARED BEEF. 617. INGREDIENTS.--7 lbs. of the thin end of the flank of beef, 2 oz. of coarse sugar, 6 oz. of salt, 1 oz, of saltpetre, 1 large handful of parsley minced, 1 dessertspoonful of minced sage, a bunch of savoury herbs, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded allspice; salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Choose fine tender beef, but not too fat; lay it in a dish; rub in the sugar, salt, and saltpetre, and let it remain in the pickle for a week or ten days, turning and rubbing it every day. Then bone it, remove all the gristle and the coarse skin of the inside part, and sprinkle it thickly with parsley, herbs, spice, and seasoning in the above proportion, taking care that the former are finely minced, and the latter well pounded. Roll the meat up in a cloth as tightly as possible, in the same shape as shown in the engraving; bind it firmly with broad tape, and boil it gently for 6 hours. Immediately on taking it out of the pot, put it under a good weight, without undoing it, and let it remain until cold. This dish is a very nice addition to the breakfast-table. _Time_.--6 hours. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 4s. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--During the time the beef is in pickle, it should be kept cool, and regularly rubbed and turned every day. BEEF-COLLOPS. 618. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of rump-steak, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1 pint of gravy (water may be substituted for this), salt and pepper to taste, 1 shalot finely minced, 1/2 pickled walnut, 1 teaspoonful of capers. _Mode_.--Have the steak cut thin, and divide it in pieces about 3 inches long; beat these with the blade of a knife, and dredge with flour. Put them in a frying-pan with the butter, and let them fry for about 3 minutes; then lay them in a small stewpan, and pour over them the gravy. Add a piece of butter, kneaded with a little flour, put in the seasoning and all the other ingredients, and let the whole simmer, but not boil, for 10 minutes. Serve in a hot covered dish. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MINCED COLLOPS (an Entree). 619. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of rump-steak, salt and pepper to taste, 2 oz. of butter, 1 onion minced, 1/4 pint of water, 1 tablespoonful of Harvey's sauce, or lemon-juice, or mushroom ketchup; 1 small bunch of savoury herbs. _Mode_.--Mince the beef and onion very small, and fry the latter in butter until of a pale brown. Put all the ingredients together in a stewpan, and boil gently for about 10 minutes; garnish with sippets of toasted bread, and serve very hot. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 2 or 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. CURRIED BEEF (Cold Meat Cookery). 620. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of tolerably lean cold roast or boiled beef, 3 oz. of butter, 2 onions, 1 wineglassful of beer, 1 dessertspoonful of curry powder. _Mode_.--Cut up the beef into pieces about 1 inch square, put the butter into a stewpan with the onions sliced, and fry them of a lightly-brown colour. Add all the other ingredients, and stir gently over a brisk fire for about 10 minutes. Should this be thought too dry, more beer, or a spoonful or two of gravy or water, may be added; but a good curry should not be very thin. Place it in a deep dish, with an edging of dry boiled rice, in the same manner as for other curries. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ in winter. TO CLARIFY BEEF DRIPPING. I. 621. Good and fresh dripping answers very well for basting everything except game and poultry, and, when well clarified, serves for frying nearly as well as lard; it should be kept in a cool place, and will remain good some time. To clarify it, put the dripping into a basin, pour over it boiling water, and keep stirring the whole to wash away the impurities. Let it stand to cool, when the water and dirty sediment will settle at the bottom of the basin. Remove the dripping, and put it away in jars or basins for use. ANOTHER WAY. 622. Put the dripping into a clean saucepan, and let it boil for a few minutes over a slow fire, and be careful to skim it well. Let it stand to cool a little, then strain it through a piece of muslin into jars for use. Beef dripping is preferable to any other for cooking purposes, as, with mutton dripping, there is liable to be a tallowy taste and smell. ROAST FILLET OF BEEF (Larded). 623. INGREDIENTS.--About 4 lbs. of the inside fillet of the sirloin, 1 onion, a small bunch of parsley, salt and pepper to taste, sufficient vinegar to cover the meat, glaze, Spanish sauce, No. 411. _Mode_.--Lard the beef with bacon, and put it into a pan with sufficient vinegar to cover it, with an onion sliced, parsley, and seasoning, and let it remain in this pickle for 12 hours. Roast it before a nice clear fire for about 1-1/4 hour, and, when done, glaze it. Pour some Spanish sauce round the beef, and the remainder serve in a tureen. It may be garnished with Spanish onions boiled and glazed. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. Average cost, exclusive of the sauce, 4s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. FRICANDEAU OF BEEF. 624. INGREDIENTS.--About 3 lbs. of the inside fillet of the sirloin (a piece of the rump may be substituted for this), pepper and salt to taste, 3 cloves, 2 blades of mace, 6 whole allspice, 1 pint of stock No. 105, or water, 1 glass of sherry, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, 2 shalots, bacon. _Mode_.--Cut some bacon into thin strips, and sprinkle over them a seasoning of pepper and salt, mixed with cloves, mace, and allspice, well pounded. Lard the beef with these, put it into a stewpan with the stock or water, sherry, herbs, shalots, 2 cloves, and more pepper and salt. Stew the meat gently until tender, when take it out, cover it closely, skim off all the fat from the gravy, and strain it. Set it on the fire, and boil, till it becomes a glaze. Glaze the larded side of the beef with this, and serve on sorrel sauce, which is made as follows:--Wash and pick some sorrel, and put it into a stewpan with only the water that hangs about it. Keep stirring, to prevent its burning, and when done, lay it in a sieve to drain. Chop it, and stew it with a small piece of butter and 4 or 6 tablespoonfuls of good gravy, for an hour, and rub it through a tammy. If too acid, add a little sugar; and a little cabbage-lettuce boiled with the sorrel will be found an improvement. _Time_.--2 hours to gently stew the meat. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 4s. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. FRIED SALT BEEF (Cold Meat Cookery). 625. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of cold salt beef, pepper to taste, 1/4 lb. of butter, mashed potatoes. _Mode_.--Cut any part of cold salt beef into thin slices, fry them gently in butter, and season with a little pepper. Have ready some very hot mashed potatoes, lay the slices of beef on them, and garnish with 3 or 4 pickled gherkins. Cold salt beef, warmed in a little liquor from mixed pickle, drained, and served as above, will be found good. _Time_.--About 5 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. FRIED RUMP-STEAK. 626. INGREDIENTS.--Steaks, butter or clarified dripping. _Mode_. Although broiling is a far superior method of cooking steaks to frying them, yet, when the cook is not very expert, the latter mode may be adopted; and, when properly done, the dish may really look very inviting, and the flavour be good. The steaks should be cut rather thinner than for broiling, and with a small quantity of fat to each. Put some butter or clarified dripping into a frying-pan; let it get quite hot, then lay in the steaks. Turn them frequently until done, which will be in about 8 minutes, or rather more, should the steaks be very thick. Serve on a very hot dish, in which put a small piece of butter and a tablespoonful of ketchup, and season with pepper and salt. They should be sent to table quickly, as, when cold, the steaks are entirely spoiled. _Time_.--8 minutes for a medium-sized steak, rather longer for a very thick one. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Seasonable all the year, but not good in summer, as the meat cannot hang to get tender._ _Note_.--Where much gravy is liked, make it in the following manner:--As soon as the steaks are done, dish them, pour a little boiling water into the frying-pan, add a seasoning of pepper and salt, a small piece of butter, and a tablespoonful of Harvey's sauce or mushroom ketchup. Hold the pan over the fire for a minute or two, just let the gravy simmer, then pour on the steak, and serve. A FRENCHMAN'S OPINION OF BEEF. The following is translated from a celebrated modern French work, the production of one who in Paris enjoys a great reputation as cook and chemist:--The flesh of the ox, to be in the best condition, should be taken from an animal of from four to six years old, and neither too fat nor too lean. This meat, which possesses in the highest degree the most nutritive qualities, is generally easily digested; stock is made from it, and it is eaten boiled, broiled, roasted, stewed, braised, and in a hundred other different ways. Beef is the foundation of stock, gravies, braises, &c.; its nutritious and succulent gravy gives body and flavour to numberless ragoûts. It is an exhaustless mine in the hands of a skilful artist, and is truly the king of the kitchen. Without it, no soup, no gravy; and its absence would produce almost a famine in the civilized world! BEEF FRITTERS (Cold Meat Cookery). 627. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast beef, pepper and salt to taste, 3/4 lb. of flour, 1/2 pint of water, 2 oz. of butter, the whites of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Mix very smoothly, and by degrees, the flour with the above proportion of water; stir in 2 oz. of butter, which must be melted, but not oiled, and, just before it is to be used, add the whites of two well-whisked eggs. Should the batter be too thick, more water must be added. Pare down the cold beef into thin shreds, season with pepper and salt, and mix it with the batter. Drop a small quantity at a time into a pan of boiling lard, and fry from 7 to 10 minutes, according to the size. When done on one side, turn and brown them on the other. Let them dry for a minute or two before the fire, and serve on a folded napkin. A small quantity of finely-minced onions, mixed with the batter, is an improvement. _Time_.--From 7 to 10 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. HASHED BEEF (Cold Meat Cookery). I. 628. INGREDIENTS.--Gravy saved from the meat, 1 teaspoonful of tomato sauce, 1 teaspoonful of Harvey's sauce, 1 teaspoonful of good mushroom ketchup, 1/2 glass of port wine or strong ale, pepper and salt to taste, a little flour to thicken, 1 onion finely minced, a few slices of cold roast beef. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients but the beef into a stewpan with whatever gravy may have been saved from the meat the day it was roasted; let these simmer gently for 10 minutes, then take the stewpan off the fire; let the gravy cool, and skim off the fat. Cut the beef into thin slices, dredge them with flour, and lay them in the gravy; let the whole simmer gently for 5 minutes, but not boil, or the meat will be tough and hard. Serve very hot, and garnish with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. II. 629. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of ribs or sirloin of beef, 2 onions, 1 carrot, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, pepper and salt to taste, 1/2 blade of pounded mace, thickening of flour, rather more than 1 pint of water. _Mode_.--Take off all the meat from the bones of ribs or sirloin of beef; remove the outside brown and gristle; place the meat on one side, and well stew the bones and pieces, with the above ingredients, for about 2 hours, till it becomes a strong gravy, and is reduced to rather more than 1/2 pint; strain this, thicken with a teaspoonful of flour, and let the gravy cool; skim off all the fat; lay in the meat, let it get hot through, but do not allow it to boil, and garnish with sippets of toasted bread. The gravy may be flavoured as in the preceding recipe. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 2d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Either of the above recipes may be served in walls of mashed potatoes browned; in which case the sippets should be omitted. Be careful that hashed meat does not boil, or it will become tough. TO PREPARE HUNG BEEF. 630. This is preserved by salting and drying, either with or without smoke. Hang up the beef 3 or 4 days, till it becomes tender, but take care it does not begin to spoil; then salt it in the usual way, either by dry-salting or by brine, with bay-salt, brown sugar, saltpetre, and a little pepper and allspice; afterwards roll it tight in a cloth, and hang it up in a warm, but not hot place, for a fortnight or more, till it is sufficiently hard. If required to have a little of the smoky flavour, it may be hung for some time in a chimney-corner, or smoked in any other way: it will keep a long time. HUNTER'S BEEF. 631. INGREDIENTS.--For a round of beef weighing 25 lbs. allow 3 oz. of saltpetre, 3 oz. of coarse sugar, 1 oz. of cloves, 1 grated nutmeg, 1/2 oz. of allspice, 1 lb. of salt, 1/2 lb. bay-salt. _Mode_.--Let the beef hang for 2 or 3 days, and remove the bone. Pound spices, salt, &c. in the above proportion, and let them be reduced to the finest powder. Put the beef into a pan, rub all the ingredients well into it, and turn and rub it every day for rather more than a fortnight. When it has been sufficiently long in pickle, wash the meat, bind it up securely with tape, and put it into a pan with 1/2 pint of water at the bottom; mince some suet, cover the top of the meat with it, and over the pan put a common crust of flour and water; bake for 6 hours, and, when cold, remove the paste. Save the gravy that flows from it, as it adds greatly to the flavour of hashes, stews, &c. The beef may be glazed and garnished with meat jelly. _Time_.--6 hours. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Note_.--In salting or pickling beef or pork for family consumption, it not being generally required to be kept for a great length of time, a less quantity of salt and a larger quantity of other matters more adapted to retain mellowness in meat, may be employed, which could not be adopted by the curer of the immense quantities of meat required to be preserved for victualling the shipping of this maritime country. Sugar, which is well known to possess the preserving principle in a very great degree, without the pungency and astringency of salt, may be, and is, very generally used in the preserving of meat for family consumption. Although it acts without corrugating or contracting the fibres of meat, as is the case in the action of salt, and, therefore, does not impair its mellowness, yet its use in sufficient quantities for preservative effect, without the addition of other antiseptics, would impart a flavour not agreeable to the taste of many persons. It may be used, however, together with salt, with the greatest advantage in imparting mildness and mellowness to cured meat, in a proportion of about one part by weight to four of the mixture; and, perhaps, now that sugar is so much lower in price than it was in former years, one of the obstructions to its more frequent use is removed. TO DRESS BEEF KIDNEY. I. 632. INGREDIENTS.--1 kidney, clarified butter, pepper and salt to taste, a small quantity of highly-seasoned gravy, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1/4 teaspoonful of powdered sugar. _Mode_.--Cut the kidneys into neat slices, put them into warm water to soak for 2 hours, and change the water 2 or 3 times; then put them on a clean cloth to dry the water from them, and lay them in a frying-pan with some clarified butter, and fry them of a nice brown; season each side with pepper and salt, put them round the dish, and the gravy in the middle. Before pouring the gravy in the dish, add the lemon-juice and sugar. _Time_.--From 5 to 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 9d. each. _Seasonable_ at any time. II. 633. INGREDIENTS.--1 kidney, 1 dessertspoonful of minced parsley, 1 teaspoonful of minced shalot, salt and pepper to taste, 1/4 pint of gravy, No. 438, 3 tablespoonfuls of sherry. _Mode_.--Take off a little of the kidney fat, mince it very fine, and put it in a frying-pan; slice the kidney, sprinkle over it parsley and shalots in the above proportion, add a seasoning of pepper and salt, and fry it of a nice brown. When it is done enough, dredge over a little flour, and pour in the gravy and sherry. Let it just simmer, but not boil any more, or the kidney would harden; serve very hot, and garnish with croûtons. Where the flavour of the shalot is disliked, it may be omitted, and a small quantity of savoury herbs substituted for it. _Time_.--From 5 to 10 minutes, according to the thickness of the slices. _Average cost_, 9d. each. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. III. _A more Simple Method_. 634. Cut the kidney into thin slices, flour them, and fry of a nice brown. When done, make a gravy in the pan by pouring away the fat, putting in a small piece of butter, 1/4 pint of boiling water, pepper and salt, and a tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup. Let the gravy just boil up, pour over the kidney, and serve. BOILED MARROW-BONES. 635. INGREDIENTS.--Bones, a small piece of common paste, a floured cloth. _Mode_.--Have the bones neatly sawed into convenient sizes, and cover the ends with a small piece of common crust, made with flour and water. Over this tie a floured cloth, and place them upright in a saucepan of boiling water, taking care there is sufficient to cover the bones. Boil them for 2 hours, remove the cloth and paste, and serve them upright on a napkin with dry toast. Many persons clear the marrow from the bones after they are cooked, spread it over a slice of toast and add a seasoning of pepper; when served in this manner, it must be very expeditiously sent to table, as it so soon gets cold. _Time_.--2 hours. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Marrow-bones may be baked after preparing them as in the preceding recipe; they should be laid in a deep dish, and baked for 2 hours. [Illustration: MARROW-BONES.] MARROW-BONES.--Bones are formed of a dense cellular tissue of membranous matter, made stiff and rigid by insoluble earthy salts; of which, phosphate of lime is the most abundant. In a large bone, the insoluble matter is generally deposited in such a manner as to leave a cavity, into which a fatty substance, distinguished by the name of marrow, is thrown. Hollow cylindrical bones possess the qualities of strength and lightness in a remarkable degree. If bones were entirely solid, they would be unnecessarily heavy; and if their materials were brought into smaller compass, they would be weaker, because the strength of a bone is in proportion to the distance at which its fibres are from the centre. Some animals, it must, however, be observed, have no cavities in the centre of their bones; such as the whale tribe, skate, and turtles. MINCED BEEF (Cold Meat Cookery). 636. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of butter, 1 small onion, 2 tablespoonfuls of gravy left from the meat, 1 tablespoonful of strong ale, 1/2 a teaspoonful of flour, salt and pepper to taste, a few slices of lean roast beef. _Mode_.--Put into a stewpan the butter with an onion chopped fine; add the gravy, ale, and 1/2 a teaspoonful of flour to thicken; season with pepper and salt, and stir these ingredients over the fire until the onion is a rich brown. Cut, but do not chop the meat _very fine_, add it to the gravy, stir till quite hot, and serve. Garnish with sippets of toasted bread. Be careful in not allowing the gravy to boil after the meat is added, as it would render it hard and tough. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 3d. _Seasonable_ at any time. MIROTON OF BEEF. 637. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of cold roast beef, 3 oz. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, 3 onions, 1/2 pint of gravy. _Mode_.--Slice the onions and put them into a frying-pan with the cold beef and butter; place it over the fire, and keep turning and stirring the ingredients to prevent them burning. When of a pale brown, add the gravy and seasoning; let it simmer for a few minutes, and serve very hot. This dish is excellent and economical. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. STEWED OX-CHEEK. 638. INGREDIENTS.--1 cheek, salt and water, 4 or 5 onions, butter and flour, 6 cloves, 3 turnips, 2 carrots, 1 bay-leaf, 1 head of celery, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, cayenne, black pepper and salt to taste, 1 oz. of butter, 2 dessertspoonfuls of flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of Chili vinegar, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup, 2 tablespoonfuls of port wine, 2 tablespoonfuls of Harvey's sauce. _Mode_.--Have the cheek boned, and prepare it the day before it is to be eaten, by cleaning and putting it to soak all night in salt and water. The next day, wipe it dry and clean, and put it into a stewpan. Just cover it with water, skim well when it boils, and let it gently simmer till the meat is quite tender. Slice and fry 3 onions in a little butter and flour, and put them into the gravy; add 2 whole onions, each stuck with 3 cloves, 3 turnips quartered, 2 carrots sliced, a bay-leaf, 1 head of celery, a bunch of herbs, and seasoning to taste of cayenne, black pepper, and salt. Let these stew till perfectly tender; then take out the cheek, divide into pieces fit to help at table, skim and strain the gravy, and thicken 1-1/2 pint of it with butter and flour in the above proportions. Add the vinegar, ketchup, and port wine; put in the pieces of cheek; let the whole boil up, and serve quite hot. Send it to table in a ragout-dish. If the colour of the gravy should not be very good, add a tablespoonful of the browning, No. 108. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 3d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. FRIED OX-FEET, or COW-HEEL. 639. INGREDIENTS.--Ox-feet, the yolk of 1 egg, bread crumbs, parsley, salt and cayenne to taste, boiling butter. _Mode_.--Wash, scald, and thoroughly clean the feet, and cut them into pieces about 2 inches long; have ready some fine bread crumbs mixed with a little minced parsley, cayenne, and salt; dip the pieces of heel into the yolk of egg, sprinkle them with the bread crumbs, and fry them until of a nice brown in boiling butter. _Time_.-1 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. each. _Seasonable_ at any time. Note.--Ox-feet may be dressed in various ways, stowed in gravy or plainly boiled and served with melted butter. When plainly boiled, the liquor will answer for making sweet or relishing jellies, and also to give richness to soups or gravies. STEWED OX-TAILS. 640. INGREDIENTS.--2 ox-tails, 1 onion, 3 cloves, 1 blade of mace, 1 teaspoonful of whole black pepper, 1 teaspoonful of allspice, 1/2 a teaspoonful of salt, a small bunch of savoury herbs, thickening of butter and flour, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Divide the tails at the joints, wash, and put them into a stewpan with sufficient water to cover them, and set them on the fire; when the water boils, remove the scum, and add the onion cut into rings, the spice, seasoning, and herbs. Cover the stewpan closely, and let the tails simmer very gently until tender, which will be in about 2-1/2 hours. Take them out, make a thickening of butter and flour, add it to the gravy, and let it boil for 1/4 hour. Strain it through a sieve into a saucepan, put back the tails, add the lemon-juice and ketchup; let the whole just boil up, and serve. Garnish with croûtons or sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours to stew the tails. _Average cost_, 9d. to 1s. 6d., according to the season. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year. THE TAILS OF ANIMALS.--In the class Mammalia, the vertebral column or backbone presents only slight modifications, and everywhere shows the same characteristics as in man, who stands at the head of this division of the animal kingdom. The length of this column, however, varies much, and the number of vertebrae of which it is composed is far from being uniform. These numerical differences principally depend on the unequal development of the caudal portion, or tail-end, of the column. Thus, the tail-forming vertebrae sometimes do not exist at all,--amongst certain bats for example; in other instances we reckon forty, fifty, and even upwards of sixty of these bones. Among the greater number of mammals, the tail is of little use for locomotion, except that it acts in many cases as does the rudder of a ship, steadying the animal in his rapid movements, and enabling him to turn more easily and quickly. Among some animals, it becomes a very powerful instrument of progression. Thus, in the kangaroos and jerboas, the tail forms, with the hind feet, a kind of tripod from which the animal makes its spring. With most of the American monkeys it is prehensile, and serves the animal as a fifth hand to suspend itself from the branches of trees; and, lastly, among the whales, it grows to an enormous size, and becomes the principal instrument for swimming. A PICKLE FOR TONGUES OR BEEF (Newmarket Recipe). 641. INGREDIENTS.--1 gallon of soft water, 3 lbs. of coarse salt, 6 oz. of coarse brown sugar, 1/2 oz. of saltpetre. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a saucepan, and let them boil for 1/2 hour, clear off the scum as it rises, and when done pour the pickle into a pickling-pan. Let it get cold, then put in the meat, and allow it to remain in the pickle from 8 to 14 days, according to the size. It will keep good for 6 months if well boiled once a fortnight. Tongues will take 1 month or 6 weeks to be properly cured; and, in salting meat, beef and tongues should always be put in separate vessels. _Time_.--A moderate-sized tongue should remain in the pickle about a month, and be turned every day. [Illustration: POTTING-JAR.] POTTED BEEF. I. 642. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of lean beef, 1 tablespoonful of water, 1/4 lb. of butter, a seasoning to taste of salt, cayenne, pounded mace, and black pepper. _Mode_.--Procure a nice piece of lean beef, as free as possible from gristle, skin, &c., and put it into a jar (if at hand, one with a lid) with 1 tablespoonful of water. Cover it _closely_, and put the jar into a saucepan of boiling water, letting the water come within 2 inches of the top of the jar. Boil gently for 3-1/2 hours, then take the beef, chop it very small with a chopping-knife, and pound it thoroughly in a mortar. Mix with it by degrees all, or a portion, of the gravy that will have run from it, and a little clarified butter; add the seasoning, put it in small pots for use, and cover with a little butter just warmed and poured over. If much gravy is added to it, it will keep but a short time; on the contrary, if a large proportion of butter is used, it may be preserved for some time. _Time_.--3-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. POTTED BEEF (Cold Meat Cookery). II. 643. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast or boiled beef, 1/4 lb. of butter, cayenne to taste, 2 blades of pounded mace. _Mode_.--As we have stated in recipe No. 608, the outside slices of boiled beef may, with a little trouble, be converted into a very nice addition to the breakfast-table. Cut up the meat into small pieces and pound it well, with a little butter, in a mortar; add a seasoning of cayenne and mace, and be very particular that the latter ingredient is reduced to the finest powder. When all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed, put it into glass or earthen potting-pots, and pour on the top a coating of clarified butter. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--If cold roast beef is used, remove all pieces of gristle and dry outside pieces, as these do not pound well. PRESERVED MEATS.--When an organic substance, like the flesh of animals, is heated to the boiling-point, it loses the property of passing into a state of fermentation and decay. Fresh animal milk, as is well known, coagulates, after having been kept for two or three days, into a gelatinous mass; but it may be preserved for an indefinite period, as a perfectly sweet liquid, if it be heated daily to the boiling-point. The knowledge of this effect of an elevated temperature has given rise to a most important branch of industry,--namely, the preparation of preserved meats for the use of the navy and merchant service. At Leith, in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, at Aberdeen, at Bordeaux, at Marseilles, and in many parts of Germany, establishments of enormous magnitude exist, in which soup, vegetables, and viands of every description are prepared, in such a manner that they retain their freshness for years. The prepared aliments are inclosed in canisters of tinned iron plate, the covers are soldered air-tight, and the canisters exposed to the temperature of boiling water for three or four hours. The aliments thus acquire a stability, which one may almost say is eternal; and when a canister is opened, after the lapse of several years, its contents are found to be unaltered in taste, colour, and smell. We are indebted to the French philosopher Gay-Lussac for this beautiful practical application of the discovery that boiling checks fermentation. An exclusive salt-meat diet is extremely injurious to the health; and, in former times, thousands of mariners lost their lives for the want of fresh aliments during long voyages. We are sorry to say that the preserved meats are sometimes carelessly prepared, and, though the statement seems incredible, sometimes adulterated. Dr. Lankester, who has done so much to expose the frauds of trade, that he ought to be regarded as a public benefactor, says that he has seen things which were utterly unfit for food, shipped as preserved meats. Surely, as he observes, there ought to be some superintendent to examine the so-called articles of food that are taken on board ship, so that the poor men who have been fighting our battles abroad may run no risk of being starved or poisoned on their way home. RIB OF BEEF BONES. (_A Pretty Dish_.) 644. INGREDIENTS.--Rib of beef bones, 1 onion chopped fine, a few slices of carrot and turnip, 1/4 pint of gravy. _Mode_.--The bones for this dish should have left on them a slight covering of meat; saw them into pieces 3 inches long; season them with pepper and salt, and put them into a stewpan with the remaining ingredients. Stew gently, until the vegetables are tender, and serve on a flat dish within walls of mashed potatoes. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the bones, 2d. _Seasonable_ at any time. BEEF RISSOLES (Cold Meat Cookery). 645. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast beef; to each pound of meat allow 3/4 lb. of bread crumbs, salt and pepper to taste, a few chopped savoury herbs, 1/2 a teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1 or 2 eggs, according to the quantity of meat. _Mode_.--Mince the beef very fine, which should be rather lean, and mix with this bread crumbs, herbs, seasoning, and lemon-peel, in the above proportion, to each pound of meat. Make all into a thick paste with 1 or 2 eggs; divide into balls or cones, and fry a rich brown. Garnish the dish with fried parsley, and send with them to table some good brown gravy in a tureen. Instead of garnishing with fried parsley, gravy may be poured in the dish, round the rissoles: in this case, it will not be necessary to send any in a tureen. _Time_.--From 5 to 10 minutes, according to size. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 5d. _Seasonable_ at any time. ROLLED BEEF, to eat like Hare. 646. INGREDIENTS.--About 5 lbs. of the inside of the sirloin, 2 glasses of port wine, 2 glasses of vinegar, a small quantity of forcemeat (No. 417), 1 teaspoonful of pounded allspice. _Mode_.--Take the inside of a large sirloin, soak it in 1 glass of port wine and 1 glass of vinegar, mixed, and let it remain for 2 days. Make a forcemeat by recipe No. 417, lay it on the meat, and bind it up securely. Roast it before a nice clear fire, and baste it with 1 glass each of port wine and vinegar, with which mix a teaspoonful of pounded allspice. Serve, with a good gravy in the dish, and send red-currant jelly to table with it. _Time_.--A piece of 5 lbs. about 1-1/2 hour before a brisk fire. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 5s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BEEF ROLLS (Cold Meat Cookery). 647. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast or boiled beef, seasoning to taste of salt, pepper, and minced herbs; puff paste. _Mode_.--Mince the beef tolerably fine with a small amount of its own fat; add a seasoning of pepper, salt, and chopped herbs; put the whole into a roll of puff paste, and bake for 1/2 hour, or rather longer, should the roll be very large. Beef patties may be made of cold meat, by mincing and seasoning beef as directed above, and baking in a rich puff paste in patty-tins. _Time_,--1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. MINIATURE ROUND OF BEEF. (_An Excellent Dish for a Small Family_.) 648. INGREDIENTS.--From 5 to 10 lbs. of rib of beef, sufficient brine to cover the meat. _Mode_.--Choose a fine rib, have the bone removed, rub some salt over the inside, and skewer the meat up into a nice round form, and bind it with tape. Put it into sufficient brine to cover it (the brine should be made by recipe No. 654), and let it remain for 6 days, turning the meat every day. When required to be dressed, drain from the pickle, and put the meat into very hot water; let it boil rapidly for a few minutes, when draw the pot to the side of the fire, and let it simmer very gently until done. Remove the skewer, and replace it by a plated or silver one. Carrots and turnips should be served with this dish, and may be boiled with the meat. _Time_.--A small round of 8 lbs., about 2 hours after the water boils; one of 12 lbs., about 3 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Should the joint be very small, 4 or 5 days will be sufficient time to salt it. BRISKET OF BEEF, a la Flamande. 649. INGREDIENTS.--About 6 or 8 lbs. of the brisket of beef, 4 or 5 slices of bacon, 2 carrots, 1 onion, a bunch of savoury herbs, salt and pepper to taste, 4 cloves, 4 whole allspice, 2 blades of mace. _Mode_.--Choose that portion of the brisket which contains the gristle, trim it, and put it into a stewpan with the slices of bacon, which should be put under and over the meat. Add the vegetables, herbs, spices, and seasoning, and cover with a little weak stock or water; close the stewpan as hermetically as possible, and simmer very gently for 4 hours. Strain the liquor, reserve a portion of it for sauce, and the remainder boil quickly over a sharp fire until reduced to a glaze, with which glaze the meat. Garnish the dish with scooped carrots and turnips, and when liked, a little cabbage; all of which must be cooked separately. Thicken and flavour the liquor that was saved for sauce, pour it round the meat, and serve. The beef may also be garnished with glazed onions, artichoke-bottoms, &c. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. FRENCH BEEF.--It has been all but universally admitted, that the beef of France is greatly inferior in quality to that of England, owing to inferiority of pasturage. M. Curmer, however, one of the latest writers on the culinary art, tells us that this is a vulgar error, and that French beef is far superior to that of England. This is mere vaunting on the part of our neighbours, who seem to want _la gloire_ in everything; and we should not deign to notice it, if it had occurred in a work of small pretensions; but M. Curmer's book professes to be a complete exposition of the scientific principles of cookery, and holds a high rank in the didactic literature of France. We half suspect that M. Curmer obtained his knowledge of English beef in the same way as did the poor Frenchman, whom the late Mr. Mathews, the comedian, so humorously described. Mr. Lewis, in his "Physiology of Common Life," has thus revived the story of the beef-eating son of France:--"A Frenchman was one day blandly remonstrating against the supercilious scorn expressed by Englishmen for the beef of France, which he, for his part, did not find so inferior to that of England. 'I have been two times in England,' he remarked, but I nevère find the bif so supérieur to ours. I find it vary conveenient that they bring it you on leetle pieces of stick, for one penny: but I do not find the bif supérieur.' On hearing this, the Englishman, red with astonishment, exclaimed, 'Good heavens, sir! you have been eating cat's meat.'" No, M. Curmer, we are ready to acknowledge the superiority of your cookery, but we have long since made up our minds as to the inferiority of your raw material. BEEF OLIVES. I. 650. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of rump-steak, 1 egg, 1 tablespoonful of minced savoury herbs, pepper and salt to taste, 1 pint of stock, No. 105, 2 or 3 slices of bacon, 2 tablespoonfuls of any store sauce, a slight thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Have the steaks cut rather thin, slightly beat them to make them level, cut them into 6 or 7 pieces, brush over with egg, and sprinkle with herbs, which should be very finely minced; season with pepper and salt, and roll up the pieces tightly, and fasten with a small skewer. Put the stock in a stewpan that will exactly hold them, for by being pressed together, they will keep their shape better; lay in the rolls of meat, cover them with the bacon, cut in thin slices, and over that put a piece of paper. Stew them very _gently_ for full 2 hours; for the slower they are done the better. Take them out, remove the skewers, thicken the gravy with butter and flour, and flavour with any store sauce that may be preferred. Give one boil, pour over the meat, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. per pound. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. II. (_Economical_.) 651. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of underdone cold roast beef, bread crumbs, 1 shalot finely minced, pepper and salt to taste, gravy made from the beef bones, thickening of butter and flour, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut some slices of underdone roast beef about half an inch thick; sprinkle over them some bread crumbs, minced shalot, and a little of the fat and seasoning; roll them, and fasten with a small skewer. Have ready some gravy made from the beef bones; put in the pieces of meat, and stew them till tender, which will be in about 1-1/4 hour, or rather longer. Arrange the meat in a dish, thicken and flavour the gravy, and pour it over the meat, when it is ready to serve. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the beef, 2d. _Seasonable_ at any time. BROILED OX-TAIL (an Entree). 652. INGREDIENTS.--2 tails, 1-1/2 pint of stock, No. 105, salt and cayenne to taste, bread crumbs, 1 egg. _Mode_.--Joint and cut up the tails into convenient-sized pieces, and put them into a stewpan, with the stock, cayenne, and salt, and, if liked very savoury, a bunch of sweet herbs. Let them simmer gently for about 2-1/2 hours; then take them out, drain them, and let them cool. Beat an egg upon a plate; dip in each piece of tail, and, afterwards, throw them into a dish of bread crumbs; broil them over a clear fire, until of a brownish colour on both sides, and serve with a good gravy, or any sauce that may be preferred. _Time_.--About 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, from 9d. to 1s. 6d., according to the season. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--These may be more easily prepared by putting the tails in a brisk oven, after they have been dipped in egg and bread-crumb; and, when brown, they are done. They must be boiled the same time as for broiling. STRANGE TAILS.--Naturalists cannot explain the uses of some of the strange tails borne by animals. In the Egyptian and Syrian sheep, for instance, the tail grows so large, that it is not infrequently supported upon a sort of little cart, in order to prevent inconvenience to the animal. Thin monstrous appendage sometimes attains a weight of seventy, eighty, or even a hundred pounds. TO DRESS BEEF PALATES (an Entree). 653. INGREDIENTS.--4 palates, sufficient gravy to cover them (No. 438), cayenne to taste, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, 1 tablespoonful of pickled-onion liquor, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Wash the palates, and put them into a stewpan, with sufficient water to cover them, and let them boil until perfectly tender, or until the upper skin may be easily peeled off. Have ready sufficient gravy (No. 438) to cover them; add a good seasoning of cayenne, and thicken with roux, No. 625, or a little butter kneaded with flour; let it boil up, and skim. Cut the palates into square pieces, put them in the gravy, and let them simmer gently for 1/2 hour; add ketchup and onion-liquor, give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--From 3 to 5 hours to boil the palates. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Palates may be dressed in various ways with sauce tournée, good onion sauce, tomato sauce, and also served in a vol-au-vent; but the above will be found a more simple method of dressing them. BEEF PICKLE, which may also be used for any kind of Meat, Tongues, or Hams. 654. INGREDIENTS.--6 lbs. of salt, 2 lbs. of fine sugar, 3 oz. of powdered saltpetre, 3 gallons of spring water. _Mode_.--Boil all the ingredients gently together, so long as any scum or impurity arises, which carefully remove; when quite cold, pour it over the meat, every part of which must be covered with the brine. This may be used for pickling any kind of meat, and may be kept for some time, if boiled up occasionally with an addition of the ingredients. _Time_.--A ham should be kept in the pickle for a fortnight; a piece of beef weighing 14 lbs., 12 or 15 days; a tongue, 10 days or a fortnight. _Note_.--For salting and pickling meat, it is a good plan to rub in only half the quantity of salt directed, and to let it remain for a day or two to disgorge and effectually to get rid of the blood and slime; then rub in the remainder of the salt and other ingredients, and proceed as above. This rule may be applied to all the recipes we have given for salting and pickling meat. TO PICKLE PART OF A ROUND OF BEEF FOR HANGING. 655. INGREDIENTS.--For 14 lbs. of a round of beef allow 1-1/2 lb. of salt, 1/2 oz. of powdered saltpetre; or, 1 lb. of salt, 1/2 lb. of sugar, 4 oz. of powdered saltpetre. _Mode_.--Rub in, and sprinkle either of the above mixtures on 14 lbs. of meat. Keep it in an earthenware pan, or a deep wooden tray, and turn twice a week during 3 weeks; then bind up the beef tightly with coarse linen tape, and hang it in a kitchen in which a fire is constantly kept, for 3 weeks. Pork, hams, and bacon may be cured in a similar way, but will require double the quantity of the salting mixture; and, if not smoke-dried, they should be taken down from hanging after 3 or 4 weeks, and afterwards kept in boxes or tubs, amongst dry oat-husks. _Time_.--2 or 3 weeks to remain in the brine; to be hung 3 weeks. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The meat may be boiled fresh from this pickle, instead of smoking it. BEEP RAGOUT (Cold Meat Cookery). 656. INGREDIENTS.--About 2 lbs. of cold roast beef, 6 onions, pepper, salt, and mixed spices to taste; 1/2 pint of boiling water, 3 tablespoonfuls of gravy. _Mode_.--Cut the beef into rather large pieces, and put them into a stewpan with the onions, which must be sliced. Season well with pepper, salt, and mixed spices, and pour over about 1/2 pint of boiling water, and gravy in the above proportion (gravy saved from the meat answers the purpose); let the whole stew very gently for about 2 hours, and serve with pickled walnuts, gherkins, or capers, just warmed in the gravy. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. ROAST RIBS OF BEEF. 657. INGREDIENTS.--Beef, a little salt. _Mode_.---The fore-rib is considered the primest roasting piece, but the middle-rib is considered the most economical. Let the meat be well hung (should the weather permit), and cut off the thin ends of the bones, which should be salted for a few days, and then boiled. Put the meat down to a nice clear fire, put some clean dripping into the pan, dredge the joint with a little flour, and keep continually basting the whole time. Sprinkle some fine salt over it (this must never be done until the joint is dished, as it draws the juices from the meat); pour the dripping from the pan, put in a little boiling: water slightly salted, and _strain_ the gravy over the meat. Garnish with tufts of scraped horseradish, and send horseradish sauce to table with it (_see_ No. 447). A Yorkshire pudding (_see_ Puddings) sometimes accompanies this dish, and, if lightly made and well cooked, will be found a very agreeable addition. _Time_.--10 lbs. of beef, 2-1/2 hours; 14 to 16 lbs., from 3-1/2 to 4 hours. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--A joint of 10 lbs. sufficient for 8 or 9 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MEMORANDA IN ROASTING.--The management of the fire is a point of primary importance in roasting. A radiant fire throughout the operation is absolutely necessary to insure a good result. When the article to be dressed is thin and delicate, the fire may be small; but when the joint is large, the fire must fill the grate. Meat must never be put down before a hollow or exhausted fire, which may soon want recruiting; on the other hand, if the heat of the fire becomes too fierce, the meat must be removed to a considerable distance till it is somewhat abated. Some cooks always fail in their roasts, though they succeed in nearly everything else. A French writer on the culinary art says that anybody can learn how to cook, but one must be born a roaster. According to Liebig, beef or mutton cannot be said to be sufficiently roasted until it has acquired, throughout the whole mass, a temperature of 158°; but poultry may be well cooked when the inner parts have attained a temperature of from 130° to 140°. This depends on the greater amount of blood which beef and mutton contain, the colouring matter of blood not being coagulable under 158°. ROAST RIBS OF BEEF, Boned and Rolled (a very Convenient Joint for a Small Family). 658. INGREDIENTS.--1 or 2 ribs of beef. _Mode_.--Choose a fine rib of beef, and have it cut according to the weight you require, either wide or narrow. Bone and roll the meat round, secure it with wooden skewers, and, if necessary, bind it round with a piece of tape. Spit the beef firmly, or, if a bottle-jack is used, put the joint on the hook, and place it _near_ a nice clear fire. Let it remain so till the outside of the meat is set, when draw it to a distance, and keep continually basting until the meat is done, which can be ascertained by the steam from it drawing towards the fire. As this joint is solid, rather more than 1/4 hour must be allowed for each lb. Remove the skewers, put in a plated or silver one, and send the joint to table with gravy in the dish, and garnish with tufts of horseradish. Horseradish sauce, No. 447, is a great improvement to roast beef. _Time_.--For 10 lbs. of the rolled ribs, 3 hours (as the joint is very solid, we have allowed an extra 1/2 hour); for 6 lbs., 1-1/2 hour. Average cost, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--A joint of 10 lbs. for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year. _Note_.--When the weight exceeds 10 lbs., we would not advise the above method of boning and rolling; only in the case of 1 or 2 ribs, when the joint cannot stand upright in the dish, and would look awkward. The bones should be put in with a few vegetables and herbs, and made into stock. ROAST BEEF has long been a national dish in England. In most of our patriotic songs it is contrasted with the fricasseed frogs, popularly supposed to be the exclusive diet of Frenchmen. "O the roast beef of old England, And O the old English roast beef." This national chorus is appealed to whenever a song-writer wishes to account for the valour displayed by Englishmen at sea or on land. ROAST SIRLOIN OF BEEF. 659. INGREDIENTS.--Beef, a little salt. _Mode_.--As a joint cannot be well roasted without a good fire, see that it is well made up about 3/4 hour before it is required, so that when the joint is put down, it is clear and bright. Choose a nice sirloin, the weight of which should not exceed 16 lbs., as the outside would be too much done, whilst the inside would not be done enough. Spit it or hook it on to the jack firmly, dredge it slightly with flour, and place it near the fire at first, as directed in the preceding recipe. Then draw it to a distance, and keep continually basting until the meat is done. Sprinkle a small quantity of salt over it, empty the dripping-pan of all the dripping, pour in some boiling water slightly salted, stir it about, and _strain_ over the meat. Garnish with tufts of horseradish, and send horseradish sauce and Yorkshire pudding to table with it. For carving, _see_ p. 317. _Time_.--A sirloin of 10 lbs., 2-1/2 hours; 14 to 16 lbs., about 4 or 4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--A joint of 10 lbs. for 8 or 9 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. The rump, round, and other pieces of beef are roasted in the same manner, allowing for solid joints; 1/4 hour to every lb. _Note_.---The above is the usual method of roasting moat; but to have it in perfection and the juices kept in, the meat should at first be laid close to the fire, and when the outside is set and firm, drawn away to a good distance, and then left to roast very slowly; where economy is studied, this plan would not answer, as the meat requires to be at the fire double the time of the ordinary way of cooking; consequently, double the quantity of fuel would be consumed. ORIGIN OF THE WORD "SIRLOIN."--The loin of beef is said to have been knighted by King Charles II., at Friday Hall, Chingford. The "Merry Monarch" returned to this hospitable mansion for Epping Forest literally "as hungry as a hunter," and beheld, with delight, a huge loin of beef steaming upon the table. "A noble joint!" exclaimed the king. "By St. George, it shall have a title!" Then drawing his sword, he raised it above the meat, and cried, with mock dignity, "Loin, we dub thee knight; henceforward be Sir Loin!" This anecdote is doubtless apocryphal, although the oak table upon which the joint was supposed to have received its knighthood, might have been seen by any one who visited Friday-Hill House, a few years ago. It is, perhaps, a pity to spoil so noble a story; but the interests of truth demand that we declare that _sirloin_ is probably a corruption of _surloin_, which signifies the upper part of a loin, the prefix _sur_ being equivalent to _over_ or _above_. In French we find this joint called _surlonge_, which so closely resembles our _sirloin_, that we may safely refer the two words to a common origin. TO SALT BEEF. 660. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 round of beef, 4 oz. of sugar, 1 oz. of powdered saltpetre, 2 oz. of black pepper, 1/4 lb. of bay-salt, 1/2 lb. of common salt. _Mode_.--Rub the meat well with salt, and let it remain for a day, to disgorge and clear it from slime. The next day, rub it well with the above ingredients on every side, and let it remain in the pickle for about a fortnight, turning it every day. It may be boiled fresh from the pickle, or smoked. _Time_.--1/2 round of beef to remain in pickle about a fortnight. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The aitch-bone, flank, or brisket may be salted and pickled by any of the recipes we have given for salting beef, allowing less time for small joints to remain in the pickle; for instance, a joint of 8 or 9 lbs. will be sufficiently salt in about a week. THE DUTCH WAY TO SALT BEEF. 661. INGREDIENTS.--10 lbs. of lean beef, 1 lb. of treacle, 1 oz. of saltpetre, 1 lb. of common salt. _Mode_.--Rub the beef well with the treacle, and let it remain for 3 days, turning and rubbing it often; then wipe it, pound the salt and saltpetre very fine, rub these well in, and turn it every day for 10 days. Roll it up tightly in a coarse cloth, and press it under a large weight; have it smoked, and turn it upside down every day. Boil it, and, on taking it out of the pot, put a heavy weight on it to press it. _Time_.--17 days. _Seasonable_ at any time. BEEF SAUSAGES. 662. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of suet allow 2 lbs. of lean beef; seasoning to taste of salt, pepper, and mixed spices. _Mode_.--Clear the suet from skin, and chop that and the beef as finely as possible; season with pepper, salt, and spices, and mix the whole well together. Make it into flat cakes, and fry of a nice brown. Many persons pound the meat in a mortar after it is chopped ( but this is not necessary when the meat is minced finely.) _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. BEEF-STEAK, Rolled, Roasted, and Stuffed. 663. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of rump-steak, forcemeat No. 417, pepper and salt to taste, clarified butter. _Mode_.--Have the steaks cut rather thick from a well-hung rump of beef, and sprinkle over them a seasoning of pepper and salt. Make a forcemeat by recipe No. 417; spread it over _half_ of the steak; roll it up, bind and skewer it firmly, that the forcemeat may not escape, and roast it before a nice clear fire for about 1-1/2 hour, or rather longer, should the roll be very large and thick. Keep it constantly basted with butter, and serve with brown gravy, some of which must be poured round the steak, and the remainder sent to table in a tureen. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but best in winter. SLICED AND BROILED BEEF--a Pretty Dish (Cold Meat Cookery). 664. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of cold roast beef, 4 or 5 potatoes, a thin batter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Pare the potatoes as you would peel an apple; fry the parings in a thin batter seasoned with salt and pepper, until they are of a light brown colour, and place them on a dish over some slices of beef, which should be nicely seasoned and broiled. _Time_.--5 minutes to broil the meat. _Seasonable_ at any time. SPICED BEEF (to Serve Cold). 665. INGREDIENTS.--14 lbs. of the thick flank or rump of beef, 1/2 lb. of coarse sugar, 1 oz. of saltpetre, 1/4 lb. of pounded allspice, 1 lb. of common salt. _Mode_.--Rub the sugar well into the beef, and let it lay for 12 hours; then rub the saltpetre and allspice, both of which should be pounded, over the meat, and let it remain for another 12 hours; then rub in the salt. Turn daily in the liquor for a fortnight, soak it for a few hours in water, dry with a cloth, cover with a coarse paste, put a little water at the bottom of the pan, and bake in a moderate oven for 4 hours. If it is not covered with a paste, be careful to put the beef into a deep vessel, and cover with a plate, or it will be too crisp. During the time the meat is in the oven it should be turned once or twice. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKING MEAT.--Baking exerts some unexplained influence on meat, rendering it less savoury and less agreeable than meat which has been roasted. "Those who have travelled in Germany and France," writes Mr. Lewis, one of our most popular scientific authors, "must have repeatedly marvelled at the singular uniformity in the flavour, or want of flavour, of the various 'roasts' served up at the _table-d'hôte_." The general explanation is, that the German and French meat is greatly inferior in quality to that of England and Holland, owing to the inferiority of pasturage; and doubtless this is one cause, but it is not the chief cause. The meat is inferior, but the cooking is mainly at fault. The meat is scarcely ever _roasted_, because there is no coal, and firewood is expensive. The meat is therefore _baked;_ and the consequence of this baking is, that no meat is eatable or eaten, with its own gravy, but is always accompanied by some sauce more or less piquant. The Germans generally believe that in England we eat our beef and mutton almost raw; they shudder at our gravy, as if it were so much blood. STEWED BEEF or RUMP STEAK (an Entree). 666. INGREDIENTS.--About 2 lbs. of beef or rump steak, 3 onions, 2 turnips, 3 carrots, 2 or 3 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of water, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 1/2 do. of pepper, 1 tablespoonful of ketchup, 1 tablespoonful of flour. _Mode_.--Have the steaks cut tolerably thick and rather lean; divide them into convenient-sized pieces, and fry them in the butter a nice brown on both sides. Cleanse and pare the vegetables, cut the onions and carrots into thin slices, and the turnips into dice, and fry these in the same fat that the steaks were done in. Put all into a saucepan, add 1/2 pint of water, or rather more should it be necessary, and simmer very gently for 2-1/2 or 3 hours; when nearly done, skim well, add salt, pepper, and ketchup in the above proportions, and thicken with a tablespoonful of flour mixed with 2 of cold water. Let it boil up for a minute or two after the thickening is added, and serve. When a vegetable-scoop is at hand, use it to cut the vegetables in fanciful shapes, and tomato, Harvey's sauce, or walnut-liquor may be used to flavour the gravy. It is less rich if stewed the previous day, so that the fat may be taken off when cold; when wanted for table, it will merely require warming through. _Time_.--3 hours. Average cost, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. STEWED BEEF AND CELERY SAUCE (Cold Meat Cookery). 667. INGREDIENTS.--3 roots of celery, 1 pint of gravy, No. 436, 2 onions sliced, 2 lbs. of cold roast or boiled beef. _Mode_.--Cut the celery into 2-inch pieces, put them in a stew-pan, with the gravy and onions, simmer gently until the celery is tender, when add the beef cut into rather thick pieces; stew gently for 10 minutes, and serve with fried potatoes. _Time_.--From 20 to 25 minutes to stew the celery. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ from September to January. STEWED BEEF WITH OYSTERS (Cold Meat Cookery). 668. INGREDIENTS.--A few thick steaks of cold ribs or sirloin of beef, 2 oz. of butter, 1 onion sliced, pepper and salt to taste, 1/2 glass of port wine, a little flour to thicken, 1 or 2 dozen oysters, rather more than 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Cut the steaks rather thick, from cold sirloin or ribs of beef; brown them lightly in a stewpan, with the butter and a little water; add 1/2 pint of water, the onion, pepper, and salt, and cover the stewpan closely, and let it simmer very gently for 1/2 hour; then mix about a teaspoonful of flour smoothly with a little of the liquor; add the port wine and oysters, their liquor having been previously strained and put into the stewpan; stir till the oysters plump, and serve. It should not boil after the oysters are added, or they will harden. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 1s. 4d. _Seasonable_ from September to April. STEWED BRISKET OF BEEF. 669. INGREDIENTS.--7 lbs. of a brisket of beef, vinegar and salt, 6 carrots, 6 turnips, 6 small onions, 1 blade of pounded mace, 2 whole allspice pounded, thickening of butter and flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of ketchup; stock, or water. _Mode_.--About an hour before dressing it, rub the meat over with vinegar and salt; put it into a stewpan, with sufficient stock to cover it (when this is not at hand, water may be substituted for it), and be particular that the stewpan is not much larger than the meat. Skim well, and when it has simmered very gently for 1 hour, put in the vegetables, and continue simmering till the meat is perfectly tender. Draw out the bones, dish the meat, and garnish either with tufts of cauliflower or braised cabbage cut in quarters. Thicken as much gravy as required, with a little butter and flour; add spices and ketchup in the above proportion, give one boil, pour some of it over the meat, and the remainder send in a tureen. _Time_.--rather more than 3 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The remainder of the liquor in which the beef was boiled may be served as a soup, or it may be sent to table with the meat in a tureen. STEWED RUMP OF BEEF. 670. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 rump of beef, sufficient stock to cover it (No. 105), 4 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 2 tablespoonfuls of ketchup, 1 large bunch of savoury herbs, 2 onions, 12 cloves, pepper and salt to taste, thickening of butter and flour, 1 glass of port wine. _Mode_.--Cut out the bone, sprinkle the meat with a little cayenne (this must be sparingly used), and bind and tie it firmly up with tape; put it into a stewpan with sufficient stock to cover it, and add vinegar, ketchup, herbs, onions, cloves, and seasoning in the above proportion, and simmer very gently for 4 or 5 hours, or until the meat is perfectly tender, which may be ascertained by piercing it with a thin skewer. When done, remove the tape, lay it into a deep dish, which keep hot; strain and skim the gravy, thicken it with butter and flour, add a glass of port wine and any flavouring to make the gravy rich and palatable; let it boil up, pour over the meat, and serve. This dish may be very much enriched by garnishing with forcemeat balls, or filling up the space whence the bone is taken with a good forcemeat; sliced carrots, turnips, and onions boiled with the meat, are also a great improvement, and, where expense is not objected to, it may be glazed. This, however, is not necessary where a good gravy is poured round and over the meat. _Time_.--1/2 rump stewed gently from 4 to 5 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 8 or 10 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--A stock or gravy in which to boil the meat, may be made of the bone and trimmings, by boiling them with water, and adding carrots, onions, turnips, and a bunch of sweet herbs. To make this dish richer and more savoury, half-roast the rump, and afterwards stew it in strong stock and a little Madeira. This is an expensive method, and is not, after all, much better than a plainer-dressed joint. THE BARON OF BEEF.--This noble joint, which consisted of two sirloins not cut asunder, was a favourite dish of our ancestors. It is rarely seen nowadays; indeed, it seems out of place on a modern table, as it requires the grim boar's head and Christmas pie as supporters. Sir Walter Scott has described a feast at which the baron of beef would have appeared to great advantage. We will quote a few lines to remind us of those days when "England was merry England," and when hospitality was thought to be the highest virtue. "The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then, upon its massive board, No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man; Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high, Crested with bays and rosemary. Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell How, when, and where the monster fell; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar; While round the merry wassel bowl, Garnish'd with ribbons, blithe did trowl. There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie; Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce, At such high tide, her savoury goose." When a lord's son came of age, in the olden time, the baron of beef was too small a joint, by many degrees, to satisfy the retainers who would flock to the hall; a whole ox was therefore generally roasted over a fire built up of huge logs. We may here mention, that an ox was roasted entire on the frozen Thames, in the early part of the present century. STEWED SHIN OF BEEF. 671. INGREDIENTS.--A shin of beef, 1 head of celery, 1 onion, a faggot of savoury herbs, 1/2 teaspoonful of allspice, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole black pepper, 4 carrots, 12 button onions, 2 turnips, thickening of butter and flour, 3 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup, 2 tablespoonfuls of port wine; pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Have the bone sawn into 4 or 5 pieces, cover with hot water, bring it to a boil, and remove any scum that may rise to the surface. Put in the celery, onion, herbs, spice, and seasoning, and simmer very gently until the meat is tender. Peel the vegetables, cut them into any shape fancy may dictate, and boil them with the onions until tender; lift out the beef, put it on a dish, which keep hot, and thicken with butter and flour as much of the liquor as will be wanted for gravy; keep stirring till it boils, then strain and skim. Put the gravy back in the stewpan, add the seasoning, port wine, and ketchup, give one boil, and pour it over the beef; garnish with the boiled carrots, turnips, and onions. _Time_.--The meat to be stewed about 4 hours. _Average cost_, 4d. per lb. with bone. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TOAD-IN-THE-HOLE (a Homely but Savoury Dish). 672. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of rump-steak, 1 sheep's kidney, pepper and salt to taste. For the batter, 3 eggs, 1 pint of milk, 4 tablespoonfuls of flour, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Cut up the steak and kidney into convenient-sized pieces, and put them into a pie-dish, with a good seasoning of salt and pepper; mix the flour with a small quantity of milk at first, to prevent its being lumpy; add the remainder, and the 3 eggs, which should be well beaten; put in the salt, stir the batter for about 5 minutes, and pour it over the steak. Place it in a tolerably brisk oven immediately, and bake for 1-1/2 hour. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The remains of cold beef, rather underdone, may be substituted for the steak, and, when liked, the smallest possible quantity of minced onion or shalot may be added. BOILED TONGUE. 673. INGREDIENTS.--1 tongue, a bunch of savoury herbs, water. _Mode_.--In choosing a tongue, ascertain how long it has been dried or pickled, and select one with a smooth skin, which denotes its being young and tender. If a dried one, and rather hard, soak it at least for 12 hours previous to cooking it; if, however, it is fresh from the pickle, 2 or 3 hours will be sufficient for it to remain in sock. Put the tongue in a stewpan with plenty of cold water and a bunch of savoury herbs; let it gradually come to a boil, skim well and simmer very gently until tender. Peel off the skin, garnish with tufts of cauliflowers or Brussels sprouts, and serve. Boiled tongue is frequently sent to table with boiled poultry, instead of ham, and is, by many persons, preferred. If to serve cold, peel it, fasten it down to a piece of board by sticking a fork through the root, and another through the top, to straighten it. When cold, glaze it, and put a paper ruche round the root, and garnish with tufts of parsley. _Time_.--A large smoked tongue, 4 to 4-1/2 hours; a small one, 2-1/2 to 3 hours. A large unsmoked tongue, 3 to 3-1/2 hours; a small one, 2 to 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, for a moderate sized tongue, 3s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO CURE TONGUES. I. 674. INGREDIENTS.--For a tongue of 7 lbs., 1 oz. of saltpetre, 1/2 oz. of black pepper, 4 oz. of sugar, 3 oz. of juniper berries, 6 oz. of salt. _Mode_.--Rub the above ingredients well into the tongue, and let it remain in the pickle for 10 days or a fortnight; then drain it, tie it up in brown paper, and have it smoked for about 20 days over a wood fire; or it may be boiled out of this pickle. _Time_.--From 10 to 14 days to remain in the pickle; to be smoked 24 days. _Average cost_, for a medium-sized uncured tongue, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--If not wanted immediately, the tongue will keep 3 or 4 weeks without being too salt; then it must not be rubbed, but only turned in the pickle. II. 675. INGREDIENTS.--9 lbs. of salt, 8 oz. of sugar, 9 oz. of powdered saltpetre. _Mode_.--Rub the above ingredients well into the tongues, and keep them in this curing mixture for 2 months, turning them every day. Drain them from the pickle, cover with brown paper, and have them smoked for about 3 weeks. _Time_.--The tongues to remain in pickle 2 months; to be smoked 3 weeks. _Sufficient_.--The above quantity of brine sufficient for 12 tongues, of 5 lbs. each. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: BEEF TONGUE.] THE TONGUES OF ANIMALS.--The tongue, whether in the ox or in man, is the seat of the sense of taste. This sense warns the animal against swallowing deleterious substances. Dr. Carpenter says, that, among the lower animals, the instinctive perceptions connected with this sense, are much more remarkable than our own; thus, an omnivorous monkey will seldom touch fruits of a poisonous character, although their taste may be agreeable. However this may be, man's instinct has decided that ox-tongue is better than horse-tongue; nevertheless, the latter is frequently substituted by dishonest dealers for the former. The horse's tongue may be readily distinguished by a spoon-like expansion at its end. TO PICKLE AND DRESS A TONGUE TO EAT COLD. 676. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of salt, 2 oz. of bay-salt, 1 oz. of saltpetre, 3 oz. of coarse sugar; cloves, mace, and allspice to taste; butter, common crust of flour and water. _Mode_.--Lay the tongue for a fortnight in the above pickle, turn it every day, and be particular that the spices are well pounded; put it into a small pan just large enough to hold it, place some pieces of butter on it, and cover with a common crust. Bake in a slow oven until so tender that a straw would penetrate it; take off the skin, fasten it down to a piece of board by running a fork through the root and another through the tip, at the same time straightening it and putting it into shape. When cold, glaze it, put a paper ruche round the root, which is generally very unsightly, and garnish with tufts of parsley. _Time_.--From 3 or 4 hours in a slow oven, according to size. _Average cost_, for a medium-sized uncured tongue, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO DRESS TRIPE. 677. INGREDIENTS.--Tripe, onion sauce, No. 484, milk and water. _Mode_.--Ascertain that the tripe is quite fresh, and have it cleaned and dressed. Cut away the coarsest fat, and boil it in equal proportions of milk and water for 3/4 hour. Should the tripe be entirely undressed, more than double that time should be allowed for it. Have ready some onion sauce made by recipe No. 4S4, dish the tripe, smother it with the sauce, and the remainder send to table in a tureen. _Time_.--1 hour: for undressed tripe, from 2-1/2 to 3 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Tripe may be dressed in a variety of ways: it may be cut in pieces and fried in batter, stewed in gravy with mushrooms, or cut into collops, sprinkled with minced onion and savoury herbs, and fried a nice brown in clarified butter. BEEF CARVING. AITCHBONE OF BEEF. A boiled aitch-bone of beef is not a difficult joint to carve, as will be seen on reference to the accompanying engraving. By following with the knife the direction of the line from 1 to 2, nice slices will be easily cut. It may be necessary, as in a round of beef, to cut a thick slice off the outside before commencing to serve. [Illustration] BRISKET OF BEEF. There is but little description necessary to add, to show the carving of a boiled brisket of beef, beyond the engraving here inserted. The only point to be observed is, that the joint should be cut evenly and firmly quite across the bones, so that, on its reappearance at table, it should not have a jagged and untidy look. [Illustration] RIBS OF BEEF. This dish resembles the sirloin, except that it has no fillet or undercut. As explained in the recipes, the end piece is often cut off, salted and boiled. The mode of carving is similar to that of the sirloin, viz., in the direction of the dotted line from 1 to 2. This joint will be the more easily cut if the plan be pursued which is suggested in carving the sirloin; namely, the inserting of the knife immediately between the bone and the moat, before commencing to cut it into slices. All joints of roast beef should be cut in even and thin slices. Horseradish, finely scraped, may be served as a garnish; but horseradish sauce is preferable for eating with the beef. [Illustration] SIRLOIN OF BEEF. This dish is served differently at various tables, some preferring it to come to table with the fillet, or, as it is usually called, the undercut, uppermost. The reverse way, as shown in the cut, is that most usually adopted. Still the undercut is best eaten when hot; consequently, the carver himself may raise the joint, and cut some slices from the under side, in the direction of from 1 to 2, as the fillet is very much preferred by some eaters. The upper part of the sirloin should be cut in the direction of the line from 5 to 6, and care should be taken to carve it evenly and in thin slices. It will be found a great assistance, in carving this joint well, if the knife be first inserted just above the bone at the bottom, and run sharply along between the bone and meat, and also to divide the meat from the bone in the same way at the side of the joint. The slices will then come away more readily. [Illustration] Some carvers cut the upper side of the sirloin across, as shown by the line from 3 to 4; but this is a wasteful plan, and one not to be recommended. With the sirloin, very finely-scraped horseradish is usually served, and a little given, when liked, to each guest. Horseradish sauce is preferable, however, for serving on the plate, although the scraped horseradish may still be used as a garnish. [Illustration] A ROUND OF BEEF. A round of beef is not so easily carved as many other joints of beef, and to manage it properly, a thin-bladed and very sharp knife is necessary. Off the outside of the joint, at its top, a thick slice should first be cut, so as to leave the surface smooth; then thin and even slices should be cleverly carved in the direction of the line 1 to 2; and with each slice of the lean a delicate morsel of the fat should be served. [Illustration] BEEF TONGUE. Passing the knife down in the direction of from 1 to 2, a not too thin slice should be helped; and the carving of a tongue may be continued in this way until the best portions of the upper side are served. The fat which lies about the root of the tongue can be served by turning the tongue, and cutting in the direction of from 3 to 4. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE SHEEP AND LAMB. 678. OF ALL WILD or DOMESTICATED ANIMALS, the sheep is, without exception, the most useful to man as a food, and the most necessary to his health and comfort; for it not only supplies him with the lightest and most nutritious of meats, but, in the absence of the cow, its udder yields him milk, cream, and a sound though inferior cheese; while from its fat he obtains light, and from its fleece broadcloth, kerseymere, blankets, gloves, and hose. Its bones when burnt make an animal charcoal--ivory black--to polish his boots, and when powdered, a manure for the cultivation of his wheat; the skin, either split or whole, is made into a mat for his carriage, a housing for his horse, or a lining for his hat, and many other useful purposes besides, being extensively employed in the manufacture of parchment; and finally, when oppressed by care and sorrow, the harmonious strains that carry such soothing contentment to the heart, are elicited from the musical strings, prepared almost exclusively from the intestines of the sheep. 679. THIS VALUABLE ANIMAL, of which England is estimated to maintain an average stock of 32,000,000, belongs to the class already indicated under the ox,--the _Mammalia_; to the order of _Rumenantia_, or cud-chewing animal; to the tribe of _Capridae_, or horned quadrupeds; and the genus _Ovis_, or the "sheep." The sheep may be either with or without horns; when present, however, they have always this peculiarity, that they spring from a triangular base, are spiral in form, and lateral, at the side of the head, in situation. The fleece of the sheep is of two sorts, either short and harsh, or soft and woolly; the wool always preponderating in an exact ratio to the care, attention, and amount of domestication bestowed on the animal. The generic peculiarities of the sheep are the triangular and spiral form of the horns, always larger in the male when present, but absent in the most cultivated species; having sinuses at the base of all the toes of the four feet, with two rudimentary hoofs on the fore legs, two inguinal teats to the udder, with a short tail in the wild breed, but of varying length in the domesticated; have no incisor teeth in the upper jaw, but in their place a hard elastic cushion along the margin of the gum, on which the animal nips and breaks the herbage on which it feeds; in the lower jaw there are eight incisor teeth and six molars on each side of both jaws, making in all 32 teeth. The fleece consists of two coats, one to keep the animal warm, the other to carry off the water without wetting the skin. The first is of wool, the weight and fineness of which depend on the quality of the pasture and the care bestowed on the flock; the other of hair, that pierces the wool and overlaps it, and is in excess in exact proportion to the badness of the keep and inattention with which the animal is treated. 680. THE GREAT OBJECT OF THE GRAZIER is to procure an animal that will yield the greatest pecuniary return in the shortest time; or, in other words, soonest convert grass and turnips into good mutton and fine fleece. All sheep will not do this alike; some, like men, are so restless and irritable, that no system of feeding, however good, will develop their frames or make them fat. The system adopted by the breeder to obtain a valuable animal for the butcher, is to enlarge the capacity and functions of the digestive organs, and reduce those of the head and chest, or the mental and respiratory organs. In the first place, the mind should be tranquillized, and those spaces that can never produce animal fibre curtailed, and greater room afforded, as in the abdomen, for those that can. And as nothing militates against the fattening process so much as restlessness, the chief wish of the grazier is to find a dull, indolent sheep, one who, instead of frisking himself, leaping his wattles, or even condescending to notice the butting gambols of his silly companions, silently fills his paunch with pasture, and then seeking a shady nook, indolently and luxuriously chows his cud with closed eyes and blissful satisfaction, only rising when his delicious repast is ended, to proceed silently and without emotion to repeat the pleasing process of laying in more provender, and then returning to his dreamy siesta to renew the delightful task of rumination. Such animals are said to have a _lymphatic_ temperament, and are of so kindly a nature, that on good pasturage they may be said to grow daily. The Leicestershire breed is the best example of this lymphatic and contented animal, and the active Orkney, who is half goat in his habits, of the restless and unprofitable. The rich pasture of our midland counties would take years in making the wiry Orkney fat and profitable, while one day's fatigue in climbing rocks after a coarse and scanty herbage would probably cause the actual death of the pampered and short-winded Leicester. 681. THE MORE REMOVED FROM THE NATURE of the animal is the food on which it lives, the more difficult is the process of assimilation, and the more complex the chain of digestive organs; for it must be evident to all, that the same apparatus that converts _flesh_ into _flesh_, is hardly calculated to transmute _grass_ into flesh. As the process of digestion in carnivorous animals is extremely simple, these organs are found to be remarkably short, seldom exceeding the length of the animal's body; while, where digestion is more difficult, from the unassimilating nature of the aliment, as in the ruminant order, the alimentary canal, as is the case with the sheep, is _twenty-seven times the length of the body._ The digestive organ in all ruminant animals consists of _four stomachs_, or, rather, a capacious pouch, divided by doorways and valves into four compartments, called, in their order of position, the Paunch, the Reticulum, the Omasum, and the Abomasum. When the sheep nibbles the grass, and is ignorantly supposed to be eating, he is, in fact, only preparing the raw material of his meal, in reality only mowing the pasture, which, as he collects, is swallowed instantly, passing into the first receptacle, the _paunch_, where it is surrounded by a quantity of warm saliva, in which the herbage undergoes a process of maceration or softening, till the animal having filled this compartment, the contents pass through a valve into the second or smaller bag,--the _reticulum_, where, having again filled the paunch with a reserve, the sheep lies down and commences that singular process of chewing the cud, or, in other words, masticating the food he has collected. By the operation of a certain set of muscles, a small quantity of this softened food from the _reticulum_, or second bag, is passed into the mouth, which it now becomes the pleasure of the sheep to grind under his molar teeth into a soft smooth pulp, the operation being further assisted by a flow of saliva, answering the double purpose of increasing the flavour of the aliment and promoting the solvency of the mass. Having completely comminuted and blended this mouthful, it is swallowed a second time; but instead of returning to the paunch or reticulum, it passes through another valve into a side cavity,--the _omasum_, where, after a maceration in more saliva for some hours, it glides by the same contrivance into the fourth pouch,--the _abomasum_, an apartment in all respects analogous to the ordinary stomach of animals, and where the process of digestion, begun and carried on in the previous three, is here consummated, and the nutrient principle, by means of the bile, eliminated from the digested aliment. Such is the process of digestion in sheep and oxen. 682. NO OTHER ANIMAL, even of the same order, possesses in so remarkable a degree the power of converting pasture into flesh as the Leicestershire sheep; the South Down and Cheviot, the two next breeds in quality, are, in consequence of the greater vivacity of the animal's nature, not equal to it in that respect, though in both the brain and chest are kept subservient to the greater capacity of the organs of digestion. Besides the advantage of increased bulk and finer fleeces, the breeder seeks to obtain an augmented deposit of tissue in those parts of the carcase most esteemed as food, or, what are called in the trade "prime joints;" and so far has this been effected, that the comparative weight of the hind quarters over the fore has become a test of quality in the breed, the butchers in some markets charging twopence a pound more for that portion of the sheep. Indeed, so superior are the hind quarters of mutton now regarded, that very many of the West-end butchers never deal in any other part of the sheep. 683. THE DIFFERENCE IN THE QUALITY OF THE FLESH in various breeds is a well-established fact, not alone in flavour, but also in tenderness; and that the nature of the pasture on which the sheep is fed influences the flavour of the meat, is equally certain, and shown in the estimation in which those flocks are held which have grazed on the thymy heath of Bamstead in Sussex. It is also a well-established truth, that the _larger_ the frame of the animal, the _coarser_ is the meat, and that _small bones_ are both guarantees for the fineness of the breed and the delicacy of the flesh. The sex too has much to do in determining the quality of the meat; in the males, the lean is closer in fibre, deeper in colour, harder in texture, less juicy, and freer from fat, than in the female, and is consequently tougher and more difficult of digestion; but probably age, and the character of the pasturage on which they are reared, has, more than any other cause, an influence on the quality and tenderness of the meat. 684. THE NUMEROUS VARIETIES of sheep inhabiting the different regions of the earth have been reduced by Cuvier to three, or at most four, species: the _Ovis Amman_, or the Argali, the presumed parent stock of all the rest; the _Ovis Tragelaphus_, the bearded sheep of Africa; the _Ovis Musmon_, the Musmon of Southern Europe; and the _Ovis Montana_, the Mouflon of America; though it is believed by many naturalists that this last is so nearly identical with the Indian Argali as to be undeserving a separate place. It is still a controversy to which of these three we are indebted for the many breeds of modern domestication; the Argali, however, by general belief, has been considered as the most _probable_ progenitor of the present varieties. 685. THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY CHANGE OF CLIMATE, accident, and other causes, must have been great to accomplish so complete a physical alteration as the primitive Argali must have undergone before the Musmon, or Mouflon of Corsica, the _immediate_ progenitor of all our European breeds, assumed his present appearance. The Argali is about a fifth larger in size than the ordinary English sheep, and being a native of a tropical clime, his fleece is of hair instead of wool, and of a warm reddish brown, approaching to yellow; a thick mane of darker hair, about seven inches long, commences from two long tufts at the angle of the jaws, and, running _under_ the throat and neck, descends down the chest, dividing, at the fore fork, into two parts, one running down the front of each leg, as low as the shank. The horns, unlike the character of the order generally, have a quadrangular base, and, sweeping inwards, terminate in a sharp point. The tail, about seven inches long, ends in a tuft of stiff hairs. From this remarkable muffler-looking beard, the French have given the species the name of _Mouflon à manchettes_. From the primitive stock _eleven_ varieties have been reared in this country, of the domesticated sheep, each supposed by their advocates to possess some one or more special qualities. These eleven, embracing the Shetland or Orkney; the Dun-woolled; Black-faced, or heath-bred; the Moorland, or Devonshire; the Cheviot; the Horned, of Norfolk the Ryeland; South-Down; the Merino; the Old Leicester, and the Teeswater, or New Leicester, have of late years been epitomized; and, for all useful and practical purposes, reduced to the following four orders:-- 686. THE SOUTH-DOWN, the LEICESTER, the BLACK-FACED, and the CHEVIOT. [Illustration: SOUTH-DOWN RAM.] [Illustration: SOUTH-DOWN EWE.] 687. SOUTH-DOWNS.--It appears, as far as our investigation can trace the fact, that from the very earliest epoch of agricultural history in England, the breezy range of light chalky hills running through the south-west and south of Sussex and Hampshire, and known as the South-Downs, has been famous for a superior race of sheep; and we find the Romans early established mills and a cloth-factory at Winchester, where they may be said to terminate, which rose to such estimation, from the fineness of the wool and texture of the cloth, that the produce was kept as only worthy to clothe emperors. From this, it may be inferred that sheep have always been indigenous to this hilly tract. Though boasting so remote a reputation, it is comparatively within late years that the improvement and present state of perfection of this breed has been effected, the South-Down new ranking, for symmetry of shape, constitution, and early maturity, with any stock in the kingdom. The South-Down has no horns, is covered with a fine wool from two to three inches long, has a small head, and legs and face of a grey colour. It is, however, considered deficient in depth and breadth of chest. A marked peculiarity of this breed is that its hind quarters stand higher than the fore, the quarters weighing from fifteen to eighteen pounds. [Illustration: LEICESTER RAM.] [Illustration: LEICESTER EWE.] 688. THE LEICESTER.--It was not till the year 1755 that Mr. Robert Bakewell directed his attention to the improvement of his stock of sheep, and ultimately effected that change in the character of his flock which has brought the breed to hold so prominent a place. The Leicester is regarded as the largest example of the improved breeds, very productive, and yielding a good fleece. He has a small head, covered with short white hairs, a clean muzzle, an open countenance, full eye, long thin ear, tapering neck, well-arched ribs, and straight back. The meat is indifferent, its flavour not being so good as that of the South-Down, and there is a very large proportion of fat. Average weight of carcase from 90 to 100 lbs. [Illustration: HEATH RAM.] [Illustration: HEATH EWE.] 689. BLACK-FACED, on HEATH-BRED SHEEP.--This is the most hardy of all our native breeds, and originally came from Ettrick Forest. The face and legs are black, or sometimes mottled, the horns spiral, and on the top of the forehead it has a small round tuft of lighter-coloured wool than on the face; has the muzzle and lips of the same light hue, and what shepherds call a mealy mouth; the eye is full of vivacity and fire, and well open; the body long, round, and firm, and the limbs robust. The wool is thin, coarse, and light. Weight of the quarter, from 10 to 16 lbs. 690. THE CHEVIOT.--From the earliest traditions, these hills in the North, like the chalk-ridges in the South, have possessed a race of large-carcased sheep, producing a valuable fleece. To these physical advantages, they added a sound constitution, remarkable vigour, and capability to endure great privation. Both sexes are destitute of horns, face white, legs long and clean, carries the head erect, has the throat and neck well covered, the cars long and open, and the face animated. The Cheviot is a small-boned sheep, and well covered with wool to the hough; the only defect in this breed, is in a want of depth in the chest. Weight of the quarter, from 12 to 18 lbs. [Illustration: ROMNEY-MARSH RAM.] [Illustration: ROMNEY-MARSH EWE.] 691. THOUGH THE ROMNEY MARSHES, that wide tract of morass and lowland moor extending from the Weald (or ancient forest) of Kent into Sussex, has rather been regarded as a general feeding-ground for any kind of sheep to be pastured on, it has yet, from the earliest date, been famous for a breed of animals almost peculiar to the locality, and especially for size, length, thickness, and quantity of wool, and what is called thickness of stocking; and on this account for ages held pre-eminence over every other breed in the kingdom. So satisfied were the Kentish men with the superiority of their sheep, that they long resisted any crossing in the breed. At length, however, this was effected, and from the Old Romney and New Leicester a stock was produced that proved, in an eminent degree, the advantage of the cross; and though the breed was actually smaller than the original, it was found that the new stock did not consume so much food, the stocking was increased, they were ready for the market a _year_ sooner; that the fat formed more on the exterior of the carcase, where it was of most advantage to the grazier, rather than as formerly in the interior, where it went to the butcher as offal; and though the wool was shorter and lighter, it was of a better colour, finer, and possessed of superior felting properties. 692. THE ROMNEY MARSH BREED is a large animal, deep, close, and compact, with white face and legs, and yields a heavy fleece of a good staple quality. The general structure is, however, considered defective, the chest being narrow and the extremities coarse; nevertheless its tendency to fatten, and its early maturity, are universally admitted. The Romney Marsh, therefore, though not ranking as a first class in respect of perfection and symmetry of breed, is a highly useful, profitable, and generally advantageous variety of the English domestic sheep. 693. DIFFERENT NAMES HAVE BEEN GIVEN to sheep by their breeders, according to their age and sex. The male is called a ram, or tup; after weaning, he is said to be a hog, or hogget, or a lamb-hog, tup-hog, or teg; later he is a wether, or wether-hog; after the first shearing, a shearing, or dinmont; and after each succeeding shearing, a two, three, or four-shear ram, tup, or wether, according to circumstances. The female is called a ewe, or gimmer-lamb, till weaned, when she becomes, according to the shepherd's nomenclature, a gimmer-ewe, hog, or teg; after shearing, a gimmer or shearing-ewe, or theave; and in future a two, three, or four-shear ewe, or theave. 694. THE MODE OF SLAUGHTERING SHEEP is perhaps as humane and expeditious a process as could be adopted to attain the objects sought: the animal being laid on its side in a sort of concave stool, the butcher, while pressing the body with his knee, transfixes the throat near the angle of the jaw, passing his knife between the windpipe and bones of the neck; thus dividing the jugulars, carotids, and large vessels, the death being very rapid from such a hemorrhage. [Illustration: SIDE OF MUTTON, SHOWING THE SEVERAL JOINTS.] 695. ALMOST EVERY LARGE CITY has a particular manner of cutting up, or, as it is called, dressing the carcase. In London this process is very simple, and as our butchers have found that much skewering back, doubling one part over another, or scoring the inner cuticle or fell, tends to spoil the meat and shorten the time it would otherwise keep, they avoid all such treatment entirely. The carcase when flayed (which operation is performed while yet warm), the sheep when hung up and the head removed, presents the profile shown in our cut; the small numerals indicating the parts or joints into which one half of the animal is cut. After separating the hind from the fore quarters, with eleven ribs to the latter, the quarters are usually subdivided in the manner shown in the sketch, in which the several joins are defined by the intervening lines and figures. _Hind quarter_: No. 1, the leg; 2, the loin--the two, when cut in one piece, being called the saddle. _Fore quarter_: No. 3, the shoulder; 4 and 5 the neck; No. 5 being called, for distinction, the scrag, which is generally afterwards separated from 4, the lower and better joint; No. 6, the breast. The haunch of mutton, so often served at public dinners and special entertainments, comprises all the leg and so much of the loin, short of the ribs or lap, as is indicated on the upper part of the carcase by a dotted line. 696. THE GENTLE AND TIMID DISPOSITION of the sheep, and its defenceless condition, must very early have attached it to man for motives less selfish than either its fleece or its flesh; for it has been proved beyond a doubt that, obtuse as we generally regard it, it is susceptible of a high degree of domesticity, obedience, and affection. In many parts of Europe, where the flocks are guided by the shepherd's voice alone, it is no unusual thing for a sheep to quit the herd when called by its name, and follow the keeper like a dog. In the mountains of Scotland, when a flock is invaded by a savage dog, the rams have been known to form the herd into a circle, and placing themselves on the outside line, keep the enemy at bay, or charging on him in a troop, have despatched him with their horns. 697. THE VALUE OF THE SHEEP seems to have been early understood by Adam in his fallen state; his skin not only affording him protection for his body, but a covering for his tent; and accordingly, we find Abel intrusted with this portion of his father's stock; for the Bible tells us that "Abel was a keeper of sheep." What other animals were domesticated at that time we can only conjecture, or at what exact period the flesh of the sheep was first eaten for food by man, is equally, if not uncertain, open to controversy. For though some authorities maintain the contrary, it is but natural to suppose that when Abel brought firstlings of his flock, "and the fat thereof," as a sacrifice, the less dainty portions, not being oblations, were hardly likely to have been flung away as refuse. Indeed, without supposing Adam and his descendants to have eaten animal food, we cannot reconcile the fact of Jubal Cain, Cain's son, and his family, living in tents, as they are reported to have done, knowing that both their own garments and the coverings of the tents, were made from the hides and skins of the animals they bred; for the number of sheep and oxen slain for oblations only, would not have supplied sufficient material for two such necessary purposes. The opposite opinion is, that animal food was not eaten till after the Flood, when the Lord renewed his covenant with Noah. From Scriptural authority we learn many interesting facts as regards the sheep: the first, that mutton fat was considered the most delicious portion of any meat, and the tail and adjacent part the most exquisite morsel in the whole body; consequently, such were regarded as especially fit for the offer of sacrifice. From this fact we may reasonably infer that the animal still so often met with in Palestine and Syria, and known as the Fat-tailed sheep, was in use in the days of the patriarchs, though probably not then of the size and weight it now attains to; a supposition that gains greater strength, when it is remembered that the ram Abraham found in the bush, when he went to offer up Isaac, was a horned animal, being entangled in the brake by his curved horns; so far proving that it belonged to the tribe of the Capridae, the fat-tailed sheep appertaining to the same family. LAMBS. 698. THOUGH THE LAMBING SEASON IN THIS COUNTRY usually commences in March, under the artificial system, so much pursued now to please the appetite of luxury, lambs can be procured at all seasons. When, however, the sheep lambs in mid-winter, or the inclemency of the weather would endanger the lives of mother and young, if exposed to its influence, it is customary to rear the lambs within-doors, and under the shelter of stables or barns, where, foddered on soft hay, and part fed on cow's milk, the little creatures thrive rapidly: to such it is customary to give the name of House Lamb, to distinguish it from that reared in the open air, or grass-fed. The ewe goes five months with her young, about 152 days, or close on 22 weeks. The weaning season commences on poor lands, about the end of the third month, but on rich pasture not till the close of the fourth--sometimes longer. 699. FROM THE LARGE PROPORTION OF MOISTURE OR FLUIDS contained in the tissues of all young animals, the flesh of lamb and veal is much more prone, in close, damp weather, to become tainted and spoil than the flesh of the more mature, drier, and closer-textured beef and mutton. Among epicures, the most delicious sorts of lamb are those of the South-Down breed, known by their black feet; and of these, those which have been exclusively suckled on the milk of the parent ewe, are considered the finest. Next to these in estimation are those fed on the milk of several dams, and last of all, though the fattest, the grass-fed lamb; this, however, implies an age much greater than either of the others. [Illustration: SIDE OF LAMB.] 700. LAMB, in the early part of the season, however reared, is in London, and indeed generally, sold in quarters, divided with eleven ribs to the forequarter; but, as the season advances, these are subdivided into two, and the hind-quarter in the same manner; the first consisting of the shoulder, and the neck and breast; the latter, of the leg and the loin,--as shown in the cut illustrative of mutton. As lamb, from the juicy nature of its flesh, is especially liable to spoil in unfavourable weather, it should be frequently wiped, so as to remove any moisture that may form on it. 701. IN THE PURCHASING OF LAMB FOR THE TABLE, there are certain signs by which the experienced judgment is able to form an accurate opinion whether the animal has been lately slaughtered, and whether the joints possess that condition of fibre indicative of good and wholesome meat. The first of these doubts may be solved satisfactorily by the bright and dilated appearance of the eye; the quality of the fore-quarter can always be guaranteed by the blue or healthy ruddiness of the jugular, or vein of the neck; while the rigidity of the knuckle, and the firm, compact feel of the kidney, will answer in an equally positive manner for the integrity of the hind-quarter. 702. MODE OF CUTTING UP A SIDE OF LAMB IN LONDON.--1, 1. Ribs; 2. Breast; 3. Shoulder; 4. Loin; 5. Leg; 1,2,3. Fore Quarter. RECIPES. CHAPTER XV. BAKED MINCED MUTTON (Cold Meat Cookery). 703. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of any joint of cold roast mutton, 1 or 2 onions, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, pepper and salt to taste, 2 blades of pounded mace or nutmeg, 2 tablespoonfuls of gravy, mashed potatoes. _Mode_.--Mince an onion rather fine, and fry it a light-brown colour; add the herbs and mutton, both of which should be also finely minced and well mixed; season with pepper and salt, and a little pounded mace or nutmeg, and moisten with the above proportion of gravy. Put a layer of mashed potatoes at the bottom of a dish, then the mutton, and then another layer of potatoes, and bake for about 1/2 hour. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--If there should be a large quantity of meat, use 2 onions instead of 1. BOILED BREAST OF MUTTON AND CAPER SAUCE. 704. INGREDIENTS.--Breast of mutton, bread crumbs, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced savoury herbs (put a large proportion of parsley), pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut off the superfluous fat; bone it; sprinkle over a layer of bread crumbs, minced herbs, and seasoning; roll, and bind it up firmly. Boil _gently_ for 2 hours, remove the tape, and serve with caper sauce, No. 382, a little of which should be poured over the meat. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year. BOILED LEG OF MUTTON. 705. INGREDIENTS.--Mutton, water, salt. _Mode_.--A. leg of mutton for boiling should not hang too long, as it will not look a good colour when dressed. Cut off the shank-bone, trim the knuckle, and wash and wipe it very clean; plunge it into sufficient boiling water to cover it; let it boil up, then draw the saucepan to the side of the fire, where it should remain till the finger can be borne in the water. Then place it sufficiently near the fire, that the water may gently simmer, and be very careful that it does not boil fast, or the meat will be hard. Skim well, add a little salt, and in about 2-1/4 hours after the water begins to simmer, a moderate-sized leg of mutton will be done. Serve with carrots and mashed turnips, which may be boiled with the meat, and send caper sauce (No. 382) to table with it in a tureen. _Time_.--A moderate-sized leg of mutton of 9 lbs., 2-1/4 hours after the water boils; one of 12 lbs., 3 hours. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--A moderate-sized leg of mutton for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ nearly all the year, but not so good in June, July, and August. _Note_.--When meat is liked very _thoroughly_ cooked, allow more time than stated above. The liquor this joint was boiled in should be converted into soup. THE GOOD SHEPHERD.--The sheep's complete dependence upon the shepherd for protection from its numerous enemies is frequently referred to in the Bible; thus the Psalmist likens himself to a lost sheep, and prays the Almighty to seek his servant; and our Saviour, when despatching his twelve chosen disciples to preach the Gospel amongst their unbelieving brethren, compares them to lambs going amongst wolves. The shepherd of the East, by kind treatment, calls forth from his sheep unmistakable signs of affection. The sheep obey his voice and recognize the names by which he calls them, and they follow him in and out of the fold. The beautiful figure of the "good shepherd," which so often occurs in the New Testament, expresses the tenderness of the Saviour for mankind. "The good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep."--_John_, x. 11. "I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known by mine."--_John_, x. 14. "And other sheep I have which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice: and there shall be one fold and one shepherd."--_John_, x. 16. BONED LEG OF MUTTON STUFFED. 706. INGREDIENTS.--A small leg of mutton, weighing 6 or 7 lbs., forcemeat, No. 417, 2 shalots finely minced. _Mode_.--Make a forcemeat by recipe No. 417, to which add 2 finely-minced shalots. Bone the leg of mutton, without spoiling the skin, and cut off a great deal of the fat. Fill the hole up whence the bone was taken, with the forcemeat, and sew it up underneath, to prevent its falling out. Bind and tie it up compactly, and roast it before a nice clear fire for about 2-1/2 hours or rather longer; remove the tape and send it to table with a good gravy. It may be glazed or not, as preferred. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours, or rather longer. _Average cost_, 4s. 8d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BRAISED FILLET OF MUTTON, with French Beans. 707. INGREDIENTS.--The chump end of a loin of mutton, buttered paper, French beans, a little glaze, 1 pint of gravy. _Mode_.--Roll up the mutton in a piece of buttered paper, roast it for 2 hours, and do not allow it to acquire the least colour. Have ready some French beans, boiled, and drained on a sieve; remove the paper from the mutton, glaze it; just heat up the beans in the gravy, and lay them on the dish with the meat over them. The remainder of the gravy may be strained, and sent to table in a tureen. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. VARIOUS QUALITIES OF MUTTON--Mutton is, undoubtedly, the meat most generally used in families; and, both by connoisseurs and medical men, it stands first in favour, whether its the favour, digestible qualifications, or general wholesomeness, be considered. Of all mutton, that furnished by South-Down sheep is the most highly esteemed; it is also the dearest, on account of its scarcity, and the great demand of it. Therefore, if the housekeeper is told by the butcher that he has not any in his shop, it should not occasion disappointment to the purchaser. The London and other markets are chiefly supplied with sheep called half-breeds, which are a cross between the Down and Lincoln or Leicester. These half-breeds make a greater weight of mutton than the true South-Downs, and, for this very desirable qualification, they are preferred by the great sheep-masters. The legs of this mutton range from 7 to 11 lbs. in weight; the shoulders, necks, or loins, about 6 to 9 lbs.; and if care is taken not to purchase it; the shoulders, necks, or loins, about 8 to 9 lbs.; and it cure is taken not to purchase it too fat, it will be found the most satisfactory and economical mutton that can be bought. BRAISED LEG OF MUTTON. 708. INGREDIENTS.--1 small leg of mutton, 4 carrots, 3 onions, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, a bunch of parsley, seasoning to taste of pepper and salt, a few slices of bacon, a few veal trimmings, 1/2 pint of gravy or water. _Mode_.--Line the bottom of a braising-pan with a few slices of bacon, put in the carrots, onions, herbs, parsley, and seasoning, and over these place the mutton. Cover the whole with a few more slices of bacon and the veal trimmings, pour in the gravy or water, and stew very gently for 4 hours. Strain the gravy, reduce it to a glaze over a sharp fire, glaze the mutton with it, and send it to table, placed on a dish of white haricot beans boiled tender, or garnished with glazed onions. _Time_.--4 hours. Average cost, 5s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE.--This order of knighthood was founded by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, in 1429, on the day of his marriage with the Princess Isabella of Portugal. The number of the members was originally fixed at thirty-one, including the sovereign, as the head and chief of the institution. In 1516, Pope Leo X. consented to increase the number to fifty-two, including the head. In 1700 the German emperor Charles VI. and King Philip of Spain both laid claim to the order. The former, however, on leaving Spain, which he could not maintain by force of arms, took with him, to Vienna, the archives of the order, the inauguration of which he solemnized there in 1713, with great magnificence; but Philip V. of Spain declared himself Grand Master, and formally protested, at the congress of Cambrai (1721), against the pretensions of the emperor. The dispute, though subsequently settled by the intercession of France, England, and Holland, was frequently renewed, until the order was tacitly introduced into both countries, and it now passes by the respective names of the Spanish or Austrian "Order of the Golden Fleece," according to the country where it is issued. AN EXCELLENT WAY TO COOK A BREAST OF MUTTON. 709. INGREDIENTS.--Breast of mutton, 2 onions, salt and pepper to taste, flour, a bunch of savoury herbs, green peas. _Mode_.--Cut the mutton into pieces about 2 inches square, and let it be tolerably lean; put it into a stewpan, with a little fat or butter, and fry it of a nice brown; then dredge in a little flour, slice the onions, and put it with the herbs in the stewpan; pour in sufficient water _just_ to cover the meat, and simmer the whole gently until the mutton is tender. Take out the meat, strain, and skim off all the fat from the gravy, and put both the meat and gravy back into the stewpan; add about a quart of young green peas, and let them boil gently until done. 2 or 3 slices of bacon added and stewed with the mutton give additional flavour; and, to insure the peas being a beautiful green colour, they may be boiled in water separately, and added to the stew at the moment of serving. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from June to August. NAMES OF ANIMALS SAXON, AND OF THEIR FLESH NORMAN.--The names of all our domestic animals are of Saxon origin; but it is curious to observe that Norman names have been given to the different sorts of flesh which these animals yield. How beautifully this illustrates the relative position of Saxon and Norman after the Conquest. The Saxon hind had the charge of tending and feeding the domestic animals, but only that they might appear on the table of his Norman lord. Thus 'ox,' 'steer,' 'cow,' are Saxon, but 'beef' is Norman; 'calf' is Saxon, but 'veal' Norman; 'sheep' is Saxon, but 'mutton' Norman; so it is severally with 'deer' and 'venison,' 'swine' and 'pork,' 'fowl' and 'pullet.' 'Bacon,' the only flesh which, perhaps, ever came within his reach, is the single exception. BROILED MUTTON AND TOMATO SAUCE (Cold Meat Cookery). 710. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of cold mutton, tomato sauce, No. 529. _Mode_.--Cut some nice slices from a cold leg or shoulder of mutton; season them with pepper and salt, and broil over a clear fire. Make some tomato sauce by recipe No. 529, pour it over the mutton, and serve. This makes an excellent dish, and must be served very hot. _Time_.--About 5 minutes to broil the mutton. _Seasonable_ in September and October, when tomatoes are plentiful and seasonable. SHEPHERDS AND THEIR FLOCKS.--The shepherd's crook is older than either the husbandman's plough or the warrior's sword. We are told that Abel was a keeper of sheep. Many passages in holy writ enable us to appreciate the pastoral riches of the first eastern nations; and we can form an idea of the number of their flocks, when we read that Jacob gave the children of Hamor a hundred sheep for the price of a field, and that the king of Israel received a hundred thousand every year from the king of Moab, his tributary, and a like number of rams covered with their fleece. The tendency which most sheep have to ramble, renders it necessary for them to be attended by a shepherd. To keep a flock within bounds, is no easy task; but the watchful shepherd manages to accomplish it without harassing the sheep. In the Highlands of Scotland, where the herbage is scanty, the sheep-farm requires to be very large, and to be watched over by many shepherds. The farms of some of the great Scottish landowners are of enormous extent. "How many sheep have you on your estate?" asked Prince Esterhazy of the duke of Argyll. "I have not the most remote idea," replied the duke; "but I know the shepherds number several thousands." BROILED MUTTON CHOPS. 711. INGREDIENTS.--Loin of mutton, pepper and salt, a small piece of butter. _Mode_.--Cut the chops from a well-hung tender loin of mutton, remove a portion of the fat, and trim them into a nice shape; slightly beat and level them; place the gridiron over a bright clear fire, rub the bars with a little fat, and lay on the chops. Whilst broiling, frequently turn them, and in about 8 minutes they will be done. Season with pepper and salt, dish them on a very hot dish, rub a small piece of butter on each chop, and serve very hot and expeditiously. _Time_.--About 8 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 chop to each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHINA CHILO. 712. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of leg, loin, or neck of mutton, 2 onions, 2 lettuces, 1 pint of green peas, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of pepper, 1/4 pint of water, 1/4 lb. of clarified butter; when liked, a little cayenne. _Mode_.--Mince the above quantity of undressed leg, loin, or neck of mutton, adding a little of the fat, also minced; put it into a stewpan with the remaining ingredients, previously shredding the lettuce and onion rather fine; closely cover the stewpan, after the ingredients have been well stirred, and simmer gently for rather more than 2 hours. Serve in a dish, with a border of rice round, the same as for curry. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from June to August. CURRIED MUTTON (Cold Meat Cookery). 713. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of any joint of cold mutton, 2 onions, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1 dessertspoonful of curry powder, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, salt to taste, 1/4 pint of stock or water. _Mode_.--Slice the onions in thin rings, and put them into a stewpan with the butter, and fry of a light brown; stir in the curry powder, flour, and salt, and mix all well together. Cut the meat into nice thin slices (if there is not sufficient to do this, it may be minced), and add it to the other ingredients; when well browned, add the stock or gravy, and stew gently for about 1/2 hour. Serve in a dish with a border of boiled rice, the same as for other curries. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ in winter. CUTLETS OF COLD MUTTON (Cold Meat Cookery). 714. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold loin or neck of mutton, 1 egg, bread crumbs, brown gravy (No. 436), or tomato sauce (No. 529). _Mode_.--Cut the remains of cold loin or neck of mutton into cutlets, trim them, and take away a portion of the fat, should there be too much; dip them in beaten egg, and sprinkle with bread crumbs, and fry them a nice brown in hot dripping. Arrange them on a dish, and pour round them either a good gravy or hot tomato sauce. _Time_.--About 7 minutes. _Seasonable_.--Tomatoes to be had most reasonably in September and October. DORMERS. 715. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of cold mutton, 2 oz. of beef suet, pepper and salt to taste, 3 oz. of boiled rice, 1 egg, bread crumbs, made gravy. _Mode_.--Chop the meat, suet, and rice finely; mix well together, and add a high seasoning of pepper and salt, and roll into sausages; cover them with egg and bread crumbs, and fry in hot dripping of a nice brown. Serve in a dish with made gravy poured round them, and a little in a tureen. _Time_.--1/2 hour to fry the sausages. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE GOLDEN FLEECE.--The ancient fable of the Golden Fleece may be thus briefly told:--Phryxus, a son of Athamus, king of Thebes, to escape the persecutions of his stepmother Ino, paid a visit to his friend Aeetes, king of Colchis. A ram, whose fleece was of pure gold, carried the youth through the air in a most obliging manner to the court of his friend. When safe At Colchis, Phryxus offered the ram on the altars of Mars, and pocketed the fleece. The king received him with great kindness, and gave him his daughter Chalciope in marriage; but, some time after, he murdered him in order to obtain possession of the precious fleece. The murder of Phryxus was amply revenged by the Greeks. It gave rise to the famous Argonautic expedition, undertaken by Jason and fifty of the most celebrated heroes of Greece. The Argonauts recovered the fleece by the help of the celebrated sorceress Medea, daughter of Aeetes, who fell desperately in love with the gallant but faithless Jason. In the story of the voyage of the Argo, a substratum of truth probably exists, though overlaid by a mass of fiction. The ram which carried Phryxus to Colchis is by some supposed to have been the name of the ship in which he embarked. The fleece of gold is thought to represent the immense treasures he bore away from Thebes. The alchemists of the fifteenth century were firmly convinced that the Golden Fleece was a treatise on the transmutation of metals, written on sheepskin. HARICOT MUTTON. I. 716. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of the middle or best end of the neck of mutton, 3 carrots, 3 turnips, 3 onions, popper and salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of ketchup or Harvey's sauce. _Mode_.--Trim off some of the fat, cut the mutton into rather thin chops, and put them into a frying-pan with the fat trimmings. Fry of a pale brown, but do not cook them enough for eating. Cut the carrots and turnips into dice, and the onions into slices, and slightly fry them in the same fat that the mutton was browned in, but do not allow them to take any colour. Now lay the mutton at the bottom of a stewpan, then the vegetables, and pour over them just sufficient boiling water to cover the whole. Give one boil, skim well, and then set the pan on the side of the fire to simmer gently until the meat is tender. Skim off every particle of fat, add a seasoning of pepper and salt, and a little ketchup, and serve. This dish is very much better if made the day before it is wanted for table, as the fat can be so much more easily removed when the gravy is cold. This should be particularly attended to, as it is apt to be rather rich and greasy if eaten the same day it is made. It should be served in rather a deep dish. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours to simmer gently. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 3s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. II. 717. INGREDIENTS.--Breast or scrag of mutton, flour, pepper and salt to taste, 1 large onion, 3 cloves, a bunch of savoury herbs, 1 blade of mace, carrots and turnips, sugar. _Mode_.--Cut the mutton into square pieces, and fry them a nice colour; then dredge over them a little flour and a seasoning of pepper and salt. Put all into a stewpan, and moisten with boiling water, adding the onion, stuck with 3 cloves, the mace, and herbs. Simmer gently till the meat is nearly done, skim off all the fat, and then add the carrots and turnips, which should previously be cut in dice and fried in a little sugar to colour them. Let the whole simmer again for 10 minutes; take out the onion and bunch of herbs, and serve. _Time_.--About 3 hours to simmer. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. HARICOT MUTTON (Cold Meat Cookery). 718. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold neck or loin of mutton, 2 oz. of butter, 3 onions, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1/2 pint of good gravy, pepper and salt to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of port wine, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, 2 carrots, 2 turnips, 1 head of celery. _Mode_.--Cut the cold mutton into moderate-sized chops, and take off the fat; slice the onions, and fry them with the chops, in a little butter, of a nice brown colour; stir in the flour, add the gravy, and let it stew gently nearly an hour. In the mean time boil the vegetables until _nearly_ tender, slice them, and add them to the mutton about 1/4 hour before it is to be served. Season with pepper and salt, add the ketchup and port wine, give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 9d. _Seasonable_ at any time. HASHED MUTTON. 719. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast shoulder or leg of mutton, 6 whole peppers, 6 whole allspice, a faggot of savoury herbs, 1/2 head of celery, 1 onion, 2 oz. of butter, flour. _Mode_.--Cut the meat in nice even slices from the bones, trimming off all superfluous fat and gristle; chop the bones and fragments of the joint, put them into a stewpan with the pepper, spice, herbs, and celery; cover with water, and simmer for 1 hour. Slice and fry the onion of a nice pale-brown colour, dredge in a little flour to make it thick, and add this to the bones, &c. Stew for 1/4 hour, strain the gravy, and let it cool; then skim off every particle of fat, and put it, with the meat, into a stewpan. Flavour with ketchup, Harvey's sauce; tomato sauce, or any flavouring that may be preferred, and let the meat gradually warm through, but not boil, or it will harden. To hash meat properly, it should be laid in cold gravy, and only left on the fire just long enough to warm through. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour to simmer the gravy. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. HASHED MUTTON.--Many persons express a decided aversion to hashed mutton; and, doubtless, this dislike has arisen from the fact that they have unfortunately never been properly served with this dish. If properly done, however, the meat tender (it ought to be as tender as when first roasted), the gravy abundant and well flavoured, and the sippets nicely toasted, and the whole served neatly; then, hashed mutton is by no means to be despised, and is infinitely more wholesome and appetizing than the cold leg or shoulder, of which fathers and husbands, and their bachelor friends, stand in such natural awe. HODGE-PODGE (Cold Meat Cookery). 720. INGREDIENTS.--About 1 lb. of underdone cold mutton, 2 lettuces, 1 pint of green peas, 5 or 6 green onions, 2 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste, 1/2 teacupful of water. _Mode_.--Mince the mutton, and cut up the lettuces and onions in slices. Put these in a stewpan, with all the ingredients except the peas, and let these simmer very gently for 3/4 hour, keeping them well stirred. Boil the peas separately, mix these with the mutton, and serve very hot. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from the end of May to August. IRISH STEW. I. 721. INGREDIENTS.--3 lbs. of the loin or neck of mutton, 5 lbs. of potatoes, 5 large onions, pepper and salt to taste, rather more than 1 pint of water. _Mode_.--Trim off some of the fat of the above quantity of loin or neck of mutton, and cut it into chops of a moderate thickness. Pare and halve the potatoes, and cut the onions into thick slices. Put a layer of potatoes at the bottom of a stewpan, then a layer of mutton and onions, and season with pepper and salt; proceed in this manner until the stewpan is full, taking care to have plenty of vegetables at the top. Pour in the water, and let it stew very gently for 2-1/2 hours, keeping the lid of the stewpan closely shut the _whole_ time, and occasionally shaking it to prevent its burning. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 2s. 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--More suitable for a winter dish. II. 722. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 lbs. of the breast of mutton, 1-1/2 pint of water, salt and pepper to taste, 4 lbs. of potatoes, 4 large onions. _Mode_.--Put the mutton into a stewpan with the water and a little salt, and let it stew gently for an hour; cut the meat into small pieces, skim the fat from the gravy, and pare and slice the potatoes and onions. Put all the ingredients into the stewpan in layers, first a layer of vegetables, then one of meat, and sprinkle seasoning of pepper and salt between each layer; cover closely, and let the whole stew very gently for 1 hour of rather more, shaking it frequently to prevent its burning. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for a winter dish. _Note_.--Irish stew may be prepared in the same manner as above, but baked in a jar instead of boiled. About 2 hours or rather more in a moderate oven will be sufficient time to bake it. ITALIAN MUTTON CUTLETS. 723. INGREDIENTS.--About 3 lbs. of the neck of mutton, clarified butter, the yolk of 1 egg, 4 tablespoonfuls of bread crumbs, 1 tablespoonful of minced savoury herbs, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, 1 teaspoonful of minced shalot, 1 saltspoonful of finely-chopped lemon-peel; pepper, salt, and pounded mace to taste; flour, 1/2 pint of hot broth or water, 2 teaspoonfuls of Harvey's sauce, 1 teaspoonful of soy, 2 teaspoonfuls of tarragon vinegar, 1 tablespoonful of port wine. _Mode_.--Cut the mutton into nicely-shaped cutlets, flatten them, and trim off some of the fat, dip them in clarified butter, and then, into the beaten yolk of an egg. Mix well together bread crumbs, herbs, parsley, shalot, lemon-peel, and seasoning in the above proportion, and cover the cutlets with these ingredients. Melt some butter in a frying-pan, lay in the cutlets, and fry them a nice brown; take them, out, and keep them hot before the fire. Dredge some flour into the pan, and if there is not sufficient butter, add a little more; stir till it looks brown, then pour in the hot broth or water, and the remaining ingredients; give one boil, and pour round the cutlets. If the gravy should not be thick enough, add a little more flour. Mushrooms, when obtainable, are a great improvement to this dish, and when not in season, mushroom-powder may be substituted for them. _Time_.--10 minutes;--rather longer, should the cutlets be very thick. _Average cost_, 2s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE DOWNS.--The well-known substance chalk, which the chemist regards as a nearly pure carbonate of lime, and the microscopist as an aggregation of inconceivably minute shells and corals, forms the sub-soil of the hilly districts of the south-east of England. The chalk-hills known as the South Downs start from the bold promontory of Beachy Head, traverse the county of Sussex from east to west, and pass through Hampshire into Surrey. The North Downs extend from Godalming, by Godstone, into Kent, and terminate in the line of cliffs which stretches from Dover to Ramsgate. The Downs are clothed with short verdant turf; but the layer of soil which rests upon the chalk is too thin to support trees and shrubs. The hills have rounded summits, and their smooth, undulated outlines are unbroken save by the sepulchral monuments of the early inhabitants of the country. The coombes and furrows, which ramify and extend into deep valleys, appear like dried-up channels of streams and rivulets. From time immemorial, immense flocks of sheep have been reared on these downs. The herbage of these hills is remarkably nutritious; and whilst the natural healthiness of the climate, consequent on the dryness of the air and the moderate elevation of the land, is eminently favourable to rearing a superior race of sheep, the arable land in the immediate neighbourhood of the Downs affords the means of a supply of other food, when the natural produce of the hills fails. The mutton of the South-Down breed of sheep is highly valued for its delicate flavour, and the wool for its fineness; but the best specimens of this breed, when imported from England into the West Indies, become miserably lean in the course of a year or two, and their woolly fleece gives place to a covering of short, crisp, brownish hair. BROILED KIDNEYS (a Breakfast or Supper Dish). 724. INGREDIENTS.--Sheep kidneys, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Ascertain that the kidneys are fresh, and cut them open very evenly, lengthwise, down to the root, for should one half be thicker than the other, one would be underdone whilst the other would be dried, but do not separate them; skin them, and pass a skewer under the white part of each half to keep them flat, and broil over a nice clear fire, placing the inside downwards; turn them when done enough on one side, and cook them on the other. Remove the skewers, place the kidneys on a very hot dish, season with pepper and salt, and put a tiny piece of butter in the middle of each; serve very hot and quickly, and send very hot plates to table. _Time_.--6 to 8 minutes. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. each. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 for each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--A prettier dish than the above may be made by serving the kidneys each on a piece of buttered toast out in any fanciful shape. In this case a little lemon-juice will be found an improvement. [Illustration: KIDNEYS.] FRIED KIDNEYS. 725. INGREDIENTS.--Kidneys, butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the kidneys open without quite dividing them, remove the skin, and put a small piece of butter in the frying-pan. When the butter is melted, lay in the kidneys the flat side downwards, and fry them for 7 or 8 minutes, turning them when they are half-done. Serve on a piece of dry toast, season with pepper and salt, and put a small piece of butter in each kidney; pour the gravy from the pan over them, and serve very hot. _Time_.--7 or 8 minutes. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. each. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 kidney to each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. ROAST HAUNCH OF MUTTON. [Illustration: HAUNCH OF MUTTON.] 726. INGREDIENTS.--Haunch of mutton, a little salt, flour. _Mode_.--Let this joint hang as long as possible without becoming tainted, and while hanging dust flour over it, which keeps off the flies, and prevents the air from getting to it. If not well hung, the joint, when it comes to table, will neither do credit to the butcher or the cook, as it will not be tender. Wash the outside well, lest it should have a bad flavour from keeping; then flour it and put it down to a nice brisk fire, at some distance, so that it may gradually warm through. Keep continually basting, and about 1/2 hour before it is served, draw it nearer to the fire to get nicely brown. Sprinkle a little fine salt over the meat, pour off the dripping, add a little boiling water slightly salted, and strain this over the joint. Place a paper ruche on the bone, and send red-currant jelly and gravy in a tureen to table with it. _Time_.--About 4 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 8 to 10 persons. _Seasonable_.--In best season from September to March. HOW TO BUY MEAT ECONOMICALLY.--If the housekeeper is not very particular as to the precise joints to cook for dinner, there is oftentimes an opportunity for her to save as much money in her purchases of meat as will pay for the bread to eat with it. It often occurs, for instance, that the butcher may have a superfluity of certain joints, and these he would be glad to get rid of at a reduction of sometimes as much as 1d. or 1-1/2d. per lb., and thus, in a joint of 8 or 9 lbs., will be saved enough to buy 2 quartern loaves. It frequently happens with many butchers, that, in consequence of a demand for legs and loins of mutton, they have only shoulders left, and these they will be glad to sell at a reduction. ROAST LEG OF MUTTON. [Illustration: LEG OF MUTTON.] 727. INGREDIENTS.--Leg of mutton, a little salt. _Mode_.--As mutton, when freshly killed, is never tender, hang it almost as long as it will keep; flour it, and put it in a cool airy place for a few days, if the weather will permit. Wash off the flour, wipe it very dry, and cut off the shank-bone; put it down to a brisk clear fire, dredge with flour, and keep continually basting the whole time it is cooking. About 20 minutes before serving, draw it near the fire to get nicely brown; sprinkle over it a little salt, dish the meat, pour off the dripping, add some boiling water slightly salted, strain it over the joint, and serve. _Time_.--A leg of mutton weighing 10 lbs., about 2-1/4 or 2-1/2 hours; one of 7 lbs., about 2 hours, or rather less. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--A moderate-sized leg of mutton sufficient for 6 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time, but not so good in June, July, and August. ROAST LOIN OF MUTTON. 728. INGREDIENTS.--Loin of mutton, a little salt. _Mode_.--Cut and trim off the superfluous fat, and see that the butcher joints the meat properly, as thereby much annoyance is saved to the carver, when it comes to table. Have ready a nice clear fire (it need not be a very wide large one), put down the meat, dredge with flour, and baste well until it is done. Make the gravy as for roast leg of mutton, and serve very hot. [Illustration: LOIN OF MUTTON.] _Time_.--A loin of mutton weighing 6 lbs., 1-1/2 hour, or rather longer. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. ROLLED LOIN OF MUTTON (Very Excellent). 729. INGREDIENTS.--About 6 lbs. of a loin of mutton, 1/2 teaspoonful of pepper, 1/4 teaspoonful of pounded allspice, 1/4 teaspoonful of mace, 1/4 teaspoonful of nutmeg, 6 cloves, forcemeat No. 417, 1 glass of port wine, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Hang the mutton till tender, bone it, and sprinkle over it pepper, mace, cloves, allspice, and nutmeg in the above proportion, all of which must be pounded very fine. Let it remain for a day, then make a forcemeat by recipe No. 417, cover the meat with it, and roll and bind it up firmly. Half bake it in a slow oven, let it grow cold, take off the fat, and put the gravy into a stewpan; flour the meat, put it in the gravy, and stew it till perfectly tender. Now take out the meat, unbind it, add to the gravy wine and ketchup as above, give one boil, and pour over the meat. Serve with red-currant jelly; and, if obtainable, a few mushrooms stewed for a few minutes in the gravy, will be found a great improvement. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour to bake the meat, 1-1/2 hour to stew gently. _Average cost_, 4s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--This joint will be found very nice if rolled and stuffed, as here directed, and plainly roasted. It should be well basted, and served with a good gravy and currant jelly. BOILED NECK OF MUTTON. 730. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of the middle, or best end of the neck of mutton; a little salt. _Mode_.--Trim off a portion of the fat, should there be too much, and if it is to look particularly nice, the chine-bone should be sawn down, the ribs stripped halfway down, and the ends of the bones chopped off; this is, however, not necessary. Put the meat into sufficient _boiling_ water to cover it; when it boils, add a little salt and remove all the scum. Draw the saucepan to the side of the fire, and let the water get so cool that the finger may be borne in it; then simmer very _slowly_ and gently until the meat is done, which will be in about 1-1/2 hour, or rather more, reckoning from the time that it begins to simmer. Serve with turnips and caper sauce, No. 382, and pour a little of it over the meat. The turnips should be boiled with the mutton; and, when at hand, a few carrots will also be found an improvement. These, however, if very large and thick, must be cut into long thinnish pieces, or they will not be sufficiently done by the time the mutton is ready. Garnish the dish with carrots and turnips placed alternately round the mutton. _Time_.--4 lbs. of the neck of mutton, about 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 8-1/2 d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE POETS ON SHEEP.--The keeping of flocks seems to have been the first employment of mankind; and the most ancient sort of poetry was probably pastoral. The poem known as the Pastoral gives a picture of the life of the simple shepherds of the golden age, who are supposed to have beguiled their time in singing. In all pastorals, repeated allusions are made to the "fleecy flocks," the "milk-white lambs," and "the tender ewes;" indeed, the sheep occupy a position in these poems inferior only to that of the shepherds who tend them. The "nibbling sheep" has ever been a favourite of the poets, and has supplied them with figures and similes without end. Shakspere frequently compares men to sheep. When Gloster rudely drives the lieutenant from the side of Henry VI., the poor king thus touchingly speaks of his helplessness;-- "So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf: So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat, unto the butcher's knife." In the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," we meet with the following humorous comparison:-- "_Proteus_. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep: thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee; therefore, thou art a sheep. "_Speed_. Such another proof will make me cry _baa_." The descriptive poets give us some charming pictures of sheep. Every one is familiar with the sheep-shearing scene in Thomson's "Seasons:"-- "Heavy and dripping, to the breezy brow Slow move the harmless race; where, as they spread Their dwelling treasures to the sunny ray, Inly disturb'd, and wond'ring what this wild Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints The country fill; and, toss'd from rock to rock, Incessant bleatings run around the hills." What an exquisite idea of stillness is conveyed in the oft-quoted line from Gray's "Elegy:"-- "And drowsy tinklings lull the distant fold." From Dyer's quaint poem of "The Fleece" we could cull a hundred passages relating to sheep; but we have already exceeded our space. We cannot, however, close this brief notice of the allusions that have been made to sheep by our poets, without quoting a couple of verses from Robert Burns's "Elegy on Poor Mailie," his only "pet _yowe_:"-- "Thro' a' the town she troll'd by him; A lang half-mile she could descry him; Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him. She ran wi' speed; A friend mair faithfu' ne'er cam' nigh him Than Mailie dead. "I wat she was a sheep o' sense. An' could behave hersel' wi' mense; I'll say't, she never brak a fence, Thro' thievish greed. Our bardie, lanely, keeps the spence, Sin' Mailie's dead." MUTTON COLLOPS (Cold Meat Cookery). 731. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of a cold leg or loin of mutton, salt and pepper to taste, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 small bunch of savoury herbs minced very fine, 2 or 3 shalots, 2 or 3 oz. of butter, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1/2 pint of gravy, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Cut some very thin slices from a leg or the chump end of a loin of mutton; sprinkle them with pepper, salt, pounded mace, minced savoury herbs, and minced shalot; fry them in butter, stir in a dessertspoonful of flour, add the gravy and lemon-juice, simmer very gently about 5 or 7 minutes, and serve immediately. _Time_.--5 to 7 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: MUTTON CUTLETS.] MUTTON CUTLETS WITH MASHED POTATOES. 732. INGREDIENTS.--About 3 lbs. of the best end of the neck of mutton, salt and pepper to taste, mashed potatoes. _Mode_.--Procure a well-hung neck of mutton, saw off about 3 inches of the top of the bones, and cut the cutlets of a moderate thickness. Shape them by chopping off the thick part of the chine-bone; beat them flat with a cutlet-chopper, and scrape quite clean, a portion of the top of the bone. Broil them over a nice clear fire for about 7 or 8 minutes, and turn them frequently. Have ready some smoothly-mashed white potatoes; place these in the middle of the dish; when the cutlets are done, season with pepper and salt; arrange them round the potatoes, with the thick end of the cutlets downwards, and serve very hot and quickly. (See Coloured Plate.) _Time_.--7 or 8 minutes. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 2s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Cutlets may be served in various ways; with peas, tomatoes, onions, sauce piquante, &c. MUTTON PIE (Cold Meat Cookery). 733. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a cold leg, loin, or neck of mutton, pepper and salt to taste, 2 blades of pounded mace, 1 dessertspoonful of chopped parsley, 1 teaspoonful of minced savoury herbs; when liked, a little minced onion or shalot; 3 or 4 potatoes, 1 teacupful of gravy; crust. _Mode_.--Cold mutton may be made into very good pies if well seasoned and mixed with a few herbs; if the leg is used, cut it into very thin slices; if the loin or neck, into thin cutlets. Place some at the bottom of the dish; season well with pepper, salt, mace, parsley, and herbs; then put a layer of potatoes sliced, then more mutton, and so on till the dish is full; add the gravy, cover with a crust, and bake for 1 hour. _Time_.--1 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The remains of an underdone leg of mutton may be converted into a very good family pudding, by cutting the meat into slices, and putting them into a basin lined with a suet crust. It should be seasoned well with pepper, salt, and minced shalot, covered with a crust, and boiled for about 3 hours. MUTTON PIE. 734. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of the neck or loin of mutton, weighed after being boned; 2 kidneys, pepper and salt to taste, 2 teacupfuls of gravy or water, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced parsley; when liked, a little minced onion or shalot; puff crust. _Mode_.--Bone the mutton, and cut the meat into steaks all of the same thickness, and leave but very little fat. Cut up the kidneys, and arrange these with the meat neatly in a pie-dish; sprinkle over them the minced parsley and a seasoning of pepper and salt; pour in the gravy, and cover with a tolerably good puff crust. Bake for 1-1/2 hour, or rather longer, should the pie be very large, and let the oven be rather brisk. A well-made suet crust may be used instead of puff crust, and will be found exceedingly good. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour, or rather longer. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MUTTON PUDDING. 735. INGREDIENTS.--About 2 lbs. of the chump end of the loin of mutton, weighed after being boned; pepper and salt to taste, suet crust made with milk (see Pastry), in the proportion of 6 oz. of suet to each pound of flour; a very small quantity of minced onion (this may be omitted when the flavour is not liked). _Mode_.--Cut the meat into rather thin slices, and season them with pepper and salt; line the pudding-dish with crust; lay in the meat, and nearly, but do not quite, fill it up with water; when the flavour is liked, add a small quantity of minced onion; cover with crust, and proceed in the same manner as directed in recipe No. 605, using the same kind of pudding-dish as there mentioned. _Time_.--About 3 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but more suitable in winter. RAGOUT OF COLD NECK OF MUTTON (Cold Meat Cookery). 736. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a cold neck or loin of mutton, 2 oz. of butter, a little flour, 2 onions sliced, 1/4 pint of water, 2 small carrots, 2 turnips, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the mutton into small chops, and trim off the greater portion of the fat; put the butter into a stewpan, dredge in a little flour, add the sliced onions, and keep stirring till brown; then put in the meat. When this is quite brown, add the water, and the carrots and turnips, which should be cut into very thin slices; season with pepper and salt, and stew till quite tender, which will be in about 3/4 hour. When in season, green peas may be substituted for the carrots and turnips: they should be piled in the centre of the dish, and the chops laid round. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_, with peas, from June to August. ROAST NECK OF MUTTON. [Illustration: NECK OF MUTTON 1-2. _Best end_. 2-3. _Scrag_.] 737. INGREDIENTS.--Neck of mutton; a little salt. _Mode_.--For roasting, choose the middle, or the best end, of the neck of mutton, and if there is a very large proportion of fat, trim off some of it, and save it for making into suet puddings, which will be found exceedingly good. Let the bones be cut short and see that it is properly jointed before it is laid down to the fire, as they will be more easily separated when they come to table. Place the joint at a nice brisk fire, dredge it with flour, and keep continually basting until done. A few minutes before serving, draw it nearer the the fire to acquire a nice colour, sprinkle over it a little salt, pour off the dripping, add a little boiling water slightly salted, strain this over the meat and serve. Red-currant jelly may be sent to table with it. _Time_.--4 lbs. of the neck of mutton, rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. WOOLLEN MANUFACTURES.--The distinction between hair and wool is rather arbitrary than natural, consisting in the greater or less degrees of fineness, softness and pliability of the fibres. When the fibres possess these properties so far as to admit of their being spun and woven into a texture sufficiently pliable to be used as an article of dress, they are called wool. The sheep, llama, Angora goat, and the goat of Thibet, are the animals from which most of the wool used in manufactures is obtained. The finest of all wools is that from the goat of Thibet, of which the Cashmere shawls are made. Of European wools, the finest is that yielded by the Merino sheep, the Spanish and Saxon breeds taking the precedence. The Merino sheep, as now naturalized in Australia, furnishes an excellent fleece; but all varieties of sheep-wool, reared either in Europe or Australia are inferior in softness of feel to that grown in India, and to that of the llama of the Andes. The best of our British wools are inferior in fineness to any of the above-mentioned, being nearly twelve times the thickness of the finest Spanish merino; but for the ordinary purposes of the manufacturer, they are unrivalled. ROAST SADDLE OF MUTTON. [Illustration: SADDLE OF MUTTON.] 738. INGREDIENTS.--Saddle of mutton; a little salt. _Mode_.--To insure this joint being tender, let it hang for ten days or a fortnight, if the weather permits. Cut off the tail and flaps and trim away every part that has not indisputable pretensions to be eaten, and have the skin taken off and skewered on again. Put it down to a bright, clear fire, and, when the joint has been cooking for an hour, remove the skin and dredge it with flour. It should not be placed too near the fire, as the fat should not be in the slightest degree burnt. Keep constantly basting, both before and after the skin is removed; sprinkle some salt over the joint. Make a little gravy in the dripping-pan; pour it over the meat, which send to table with a tureen of made gravy and red-currant jelly. _Time_.--A saddle of mutton weighing 10 lbs., 2-1/2 hours; 14 lbs., 3-1/4 hours. When liked underdone, allow rather less time. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--A moderate-sized saddle of 10 lbs. for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year; not so good when lamb is in full season. ROAST SHOULDER OF MUTTON. 739. INGREDIENTS.--Shoulder of mutton; a little salt. _Mode_.--Put the joint down to a bright, clear fire; flour it well, and keep continually basting. About 1/4 hour before serving, draw it near the fire, that the outside may acquire a nice brown colour, but not sufficiently near to blacken the fat. Sprinkle a little fine salt over the meat, empty the dripping-pan of its contents, pour in a little boiling water slightly salted, and strain this over the joint. Onion sauce, or stewed Spanish onions, are usually sent to table with this dish, and sometimes baked potatoes. _Time_.--A shoulder of mutton weighing 6 or 7 lbs., 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 8d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Shoulder of mutton may be dressed in a variety of ways; boiled, and served with onion sauce; boned, and stuffed with a good veal forcemeat; or baked, with sliced potatoes in the dripping-pan. THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.--James Hogg was perhaps the most remarkable man that ever wore the _maud_ of a shepherd. Under the garb, aspect, and bearing of a rude peasant (and rude enough he was in most of these things, even after no inconsiderable experience of society), the world soon discovered a true poet. He taught himself to write, by copying the letters of a printed book as he lay watching his flock on the hillside, and believed that he had reached the utmost pitch of his ambition when he first found that his artless rhymes could touch the heart of the ewe-milker who partook the shelter of his mantle during the passing storm. If "the shepherd" of Professor Wilson's "Noctes Ambrosianae" may be taken as a true portrait of James Hogg, we must admit that, for quaintness of humour, the poet of Ettrick Forest had few rivals. Sir Walter Scott said that Hogg's thousand little touches of absurdity afforded him more entertainment than the best comedy that ever set the pit in a roar. Among the written productions of the shepherd-poet, is an account of his own experiences in sheep-tending, called "The Shepherd's Calender." This work contains a vast amount of useful information upon sheep, their diseases, habits, and management. The Ettrick Shepherd died in 1835. SHEEP'S BRAINS, EN MATELOTE (an Entree). 740. INGREDIENTS.--6 sheep's brains, vinegar, salt, a few slices of bacon, 1 small onion, 2 cloves, a small bunch of parsley, sufficient stock or weak broth to cover the brains, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, matelote sauce, No. 512. _Mode_.--Detach the brains from the heads without breaking them, and put them into a pan of warm water; remove the skin, and let them remain for two hours. Have ready a saucepan of boiling water, add a little vinegar and salt, and put in the brains. When they are quite firm, take them out and put them into very cold water. Place 2 or 3 slices of bacon in a stewpan, put in the brains, the onion stuck with 2 cloves, the parsley, and a good seasoning of pepper and salt; cover with stock, or weak broth, and boil them gently for about 25 minutes. Have ready some croûtons; arrange these in the dish alternately with the brains, and cover with a matelote sauce, No. 512, to which has been added the above proportion of lemon-juice. _Time_.--25 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. SHEEP'S FEET or TROTTERS (Soyer's Recipe). 741. INGREDIENTS.--12 feet, 1/4 lb. of beef or mutton suet, 2 onions, 1 carrot, 2 bay-leaves, 2 sprigs of thyme, 1 oz. of salt, 1/4 oz. of pepper, 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 2-1/2 quarts of water, 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 3/4 teaspoonful of pepper, a little grated nutmeg, the juice of 1 lemon, 1 gill of milk, the yolks of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Have the feet cleaned, and the long bone extracted from them. Put the suet into a stewpan, with the onions and carrot sliced, the bay-leaves, thyme, salt, and pepper, and let these simmer for 5 minutes. Add 2 tablespoonfuls of flour and the water, and keep stirring till it boils; then put in the feet. Let these simmer for 3 hours, or until perfectly tender, and take them and lay them on a sieve. Mix together, on a plate, with the back of a spoon, butter, salt, flour (1 teaspoonful), pepper, nutmeg, and lemon-juice as above, and put the feet, with a gill of milk, into a stewpan. When very hot, add the butter, &c., and stir continually till melted. Now mix the yolks of 2 eggs with 5 tablespoonfuls of milk; stir this to the other ingredients, keep moving the pan over the fire continually for a minute or two, but do not allow it to boil after the eggs are added. Serve in a very hot dish, and garnish with croûtons, or sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO DRESS A SHEEP'S HEAD. 742. INGREDIENTS.--1 sheep's head, sufficient water to cover it, 3 carrots, 3 turnips, 2 or 3 parsnips, 3 onions, a small bunch of parsley, 1 teaspoonful of pepper, 3 teaspoonfuls of salt, 1/4 lb. of Scotch oatmeal. _Mode_.--Clean the head well, and let it soak in warm water for 2 hours, to get rid of the blood; put it into a saucepan, with sufficient cold water to cover it, and when it boils, add the vegetables, peeled and sliced, and the remaining ingredients; before adding the oatmeal, mix it to a smooth batter with a little of the liquor. Keep stirring till it boils up; then shut the saucepan closely, and let it stew gently for 1-1/2 or 2 hours. It may be thickened with rice or barley, but oatmeal is preferable. _Time_.--1-1/2 or 2 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. each. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. SINGED SHEEP'S HEAD.--The village of Dudingston, which stands "within a mile of Edinburgh town," was formerly celebrated for this ancient and homely Scottish dish. In the summer months, many opulent citizens used to resort to this place to solace themselves over singed sheep's heads, boiled or baked. The sheep fed upon the neighbouring hills were slaughtered at this village, and the carcases were sent to town; but the heads were left to be consumed in the place. We are not aware whether the custom of eating sheep's heads at Dudingston is still kept up by the good folks of Edinburgh. TOAD-IN-THE-HOLE (Cold Meat Cookery). 743. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of flour, 1 pint of milk, 3 eggs, butter, a few slices of cold mutton, pepper and salt to taste, 2 kidneys. _Mode_.--Make a smooth batter of flour, milk, and eggs in the above proportion; butter a baking-dish, and pour in the batter. Into this place a few slices of cold mutton, previously well seasoned, and the kidneys, which should be cut into rather small pieces; bake about 1 hour, or rather longer, and send it to table in the dish it was baked in. Oysters or mushrooms may be substituted for the kidneys, and will be found exceedingly good. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. BREAST OF LAMB AND GREEN PEAS. 744. INGREDIENTS.--1 breast of lamb, a few slices of bacon, 1/4 pint of stock No. 105, 1 lemon, 1 onion, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, green peas. _Mode_.--Remove the skin from a breast of lamb, put it into a saucepan of boiling water, and let it simmer for 5 minutes. Take it out and lay it in cold water. Line the bottom of a stewpan with a few thin slices of bacon; lay the lamb on these; peel the lemon, cut it into slices, and put these on the meat, to keep it white and make it tender; cover with 1 or 2 more slices of bacon; add the stock, onion, and herbs, and set it on a slow fire to simmer very gently until tender. Have ready some green peas, put these on a dish, and place the lamb on the top of these. The appearance of this dish may be much improved by glazing the lamb, and spinach may be substituted for the peas when variety is desired. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. _Seasonable_,--grass lamb, from Easter to Michaelmas. THE LAMB AS A SACRIFICE.--The number of lambs consumed in sacrifices by the Hebrews must have been very considerable. Two lambs "of the first year" were appointed to be sacrificed daily for the morning and evening sacrifice; and a lamb served as a substitute for the first-born of unclean animals, such as the ass, which could not be accepted as an offering to the Lord. Every year, also, on the anniversary of the deliverance of the children of Israel from the bondage of Egypt, every family was ordered to sacrifice a lamb or kid, and to sprinkle some of its blood upon the door-posts, in commemoration of the judgment of God upon the Egyptians. It was to be eaten roasted, with unleavened bread and bitter herbs, in haste, with the loins girded, the shoes on the feet, and the staff in the hand; and whatever remained until the morning was to be burnt. The sheep was also used in the numerous special, individual, and national sacrifices ordered by the Jewish law. On extraordinary occasions, vast quantities of sheep were sacrificed at once; thus Solomon, on the completion of the temple, offered "sheep and oxen that could not be told nor numbered for multitude." STEWED BREAST OF LAMB. 745. INGREDIENTS.--1 breast of lamb, pepper and salt to taste, sufficient stock, No. 105, to cover it, 1 glass of sherry, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Skin the lamb, cut it into pieces, and season them with pepper and salt; lay these in a stewpan, pour in sufficient stock or gravy to cover them, and stew very gently until tender, which will be in about 1-1/2 hour. Just before serving, thicken the sauce with a little butter and flour; add the sherry, give one boil, and pour it over the meat. Green peas, or stewed mushrooms, may be strewed over the meat, and will be found a very great improvement. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. _Seasonable_,--grass lamb, from Easter to Michaelmas. LAMB CHOPS. 746. INGREDIENTS.--Loin of lamb, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Trim off the flap from a fine loin of lamb, aid cut it into chops about 3/4 inch in thickness. Have ready a bright clear fire; lay the chops on a gridiron, and broil them of a nice pale brown, turning them when required. Season them with pepper and salt; serve very hot and quickly, and garnish with crisped parsley, or place them on mashed potatoes. Asparagus, spinach, or peas are the favourite accompaniments to lamb chops. _Time_.--About 8 or 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 chops to each person. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. LAMB CUTLETS AND SPINACH (an Entree). 747. INGREDIENTS.--8 cutlets, egg and bread crumbs, salt and pepper to taste, a little clarified butter. _Mode_.--Cut the cutlets from a neck of lamb, and shape them by cutting off the thick part of the chine-bone. Trim off most of the fat and all the skin, and scrape the top part of the bones quite clean. Brush the cutlets over with egg, sprinkle them with bread crumbs, and season with pepper and salt. Now dip them into clarified butter, sprinkle over a few more bread crumbs, and fry them over a sharp fire, turning them when required. Lay them before the fire to drain, and arrange them on a dish with spinach in the centre, which should be previously well boiled, drained, chopped, and seasoned. _Time_.--About 7 or 8 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. _Note_.--Peas, asparagus, or French beans, may be substituted for the spinach; or lamb cutlets may be served with stewed cucumbers, Soubise sauce, &c. &c. LAMB'S FRY. 748. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of lamb's fry, 3 pints of water, egg and bread crumbs, 1 teaspoonful of chopped parsley, salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Boil the fry for 1/4 hour in the above proportion of water, take it out and dry it in a cloth; grate some bread down finely, mix with it a teaspoonful of chopped parsley and a high seasoning of pepper and salt. Brush the fry lightly over with the yolk of an egg, sprinkle over the bread crumbs, and fry for 5 minutes. Serve very hot on a napkin in a dish, and garnish with plenty of crisped parsley. _Time_.-1 hour to simmer the fry, 5 minutes to fry it. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 2 or 3 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. HASHED LAMB AND BROILED BLADE-BONE. 749. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a cold shoulder of lamb, pepper and salt to taste, 2 oz. of butter, about 1/2 pint of stock or gravy, 1 tablespoonful of shalot vinegar, 3 or 4 pickled gherkins. _Mode_.--Take the blade-bone from the shoulder, and cut the meat into collops as neatly as possible. Season the bone with pepper and salt, pour a little oiled butter over it, and place it in the oven to warm through. Put the stock into a stewpan, add the ketchup and shalot vinegar, and lay in the pieces of lamb. Let these heat gradually through, but do not allow them to boil. Take the blade-bone out of the oven, and place it on a gridiron over a sharp fire to brown. Slice the gherkins, put them into the hash, and dish it with the blade-bone in the centre. It may be garnished with croutons or sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--Altogether 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_,--house lamb, from Christmas to March; grass lamb, from Easter to Michaelmas. [Illustration: FORE-QUARTER OF LAMB.] ROAST FORE-QUARTER OF LAMB. 750. INGREDIENTS.--Lamb, a little salt. _Mode_.--To obtain the flavour of lamb in perfection, it should not be long kept; time to cool is all that it requires; and though the meat may be somewhat thready, the juices and flavour will be infinitely superior to that of lamb that has been killed 2 or 3 days. Make up the fire in good time, that it may be clear and brisk when the joint is put down. Place it at a sufficient distance to prevent the fat from burning, and baste it constantly till the moment of serving. Lamb should be very _thoroughly_ done without being dried up, and not the slightest appearance of red gravy should be visible, as in roast mutton: this rule is applicable to all young white meats. Serve with a little gravy made in the dripping-pan, the same as for other roasts, and send to table with it a tureen of mint sauce, No. 469, and a fresh salad. A cut lemon, a small piece of fresh butter, and a little cayenne, should also be placed on the table, so that when the carver separates the shoulder from the ribs, they may be ready for his use; if, however, he should not be very expert, we would recommend that the cook should divide these joints nicely before coming to table. _Time_.--Fore-quarter of lamb weighing 10 lbs., 1-3/4 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_,--grass lamb, from Easter to Michaelmas. BOILED LEG OF LAMB A LA BECHAMEL. 751. INGREDIENTS.--Leg of lamb, Béchamel sauce, No. 367. _Mode_.--Do not choose a very large joint, but one weighing about 5 lbs. Have ready a saucepan of boiling water, into which plunge the lamb, and when it boils up again, draw it to the side of the fire, and let the water cool a little. Then stew very gently for about 1-1/4 hour, reckoning from the time that the water begins to simmer. Make some Béchamel by recipe No. 367, dish the lamb, pour the sauce over it, and garnish with tufts of boiled cauliflower or carrots. When liked, melted butter may be substituted for the Béchamel: this is a more simple method, but not nearly so nice. Send to table with it some of the sauce in a tureen, and boiled cauliflowers or spinach, with whichever vegetable the dish is garnished. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour after the water simmers. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. ROAST LEG OF LAMB. 752. INGREDIENTS.--Lamb, a little salt. [Illustration: LEG OF LAMB.] _Mode_.--Place the joint at a good distance from the fire at first, and baste well the whole time it is cooking. When nearly done, draw it nearer the fire to acquire a nice brown colour. Sprinkle a little fine salt over the meat, empty the dripping-pan of its contents; pour in a little boiling water, and strain this over the meat. Serve with mint sauce and a fresh salad, and for vegetables send peas, spinach, or cauliflowers to table with it. _Time_.--A leg of lamb weighing 5 lbs., 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. BRAISED LOIN OF LAMB. [Illustration: LOIN OF LAMB.] 753. INGREDIENTS.--1 loin of lamb, a few slices of bacon, 1 bunch of green onions, 5 or 6 young carrots, a bunch of savoury herbs, 2 blades of pounded mace, 1 pint of stock, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Bone a loin of lamb, and line the bottom of a stewpan just capable of holding it, with a few thin slices of fat bacon; add the remaining ingredients, cover the meat with a few more slices of bacon, pour in the stock, and simmer very _gently_ for 2 hours; take it up, dry it, strain and reduce the gravy to a glaze, with which glaze the meat, and serve it either on stewed peas, spinach, or stewed cucumbers. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 11d. per lb. _Sufficient for_ 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. [Illustration: SADDLE OF LAMB. RIBS OF LAMB.] ROAST SADDLE OF LAMB. 754. INGREDIENTS.--Lamb; a little salt. _Mode_.--This joint is now very much in vogue, and is generally considered a nice one for a small party. Have ready a clear brisk fire; put down the joint at a little distance, to prevent the fat from scorching, and keep it well basted all the time it is cooking. Serve with mint sauce and a fresh salad, and send to table with it, either peas, cauliflowers, or spinach. _Time_.--A small saddle, 1-1/2 hour; a large one, 2 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. _Note_.--Loin and ribs of lamb are roasted in the same manner, and served with the same sauces as the above. A loin will take about 1-1/4 hour; ribs, from 1 to 1-1/4 hour. ROAST SHOULDER OF LAMB. 755. INGREDIENTS.--Lamb; a little salt. _Mode_.--Have ready a clear brisk fire, and put down the joint at a sufficient distance from it, that the fat may not burn. Keep constantly basting until done, and serve with a little gravy made in the dripping-pan, and send mint sauce to table with it. Peas, spinach, or cauliflowers are the usual vegetables served with lamb, and also a fresh salad. _Time_.--A shoulder of lamb rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 10s. to 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. SHOULDER OF LAMB STUFFED. 756. INGREDIENTS.--Shoulder of lamb, forcemeat No. 417, trimmings of veal or beef, 2 onions, 1/2 head of celery, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, a few slices of fat bacon, 1 quart of stock No. 105. _Mode_.--Take the blade-bone out of a shoulder of lamb, fill up its place with forcemeat, and sew it up with coarse thread. Put it into a stewpan with a few slices of bacon under and over the lamb, and add the remaining ingredients. Stew very gently for rather more than 2 hours. Reduce the gravy, with which glaze the meat, and serve with peas, stewed cucumbers, or sorrel sauce. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. LAMB'S SWEETBREADS, LARDED, AND ASPARAGUS (an Entree). 757. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 sweetbreads, 1/2 pint of veal stock, white pepper and salt to taste, a small bunch of green onions, 1 blade of pounded mace, thickening of butter and flour, 2 eggs, nearly 1/2 pint of cream, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley, a very little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Soak the sweetbreads in lukewarm water, and put them into a saucepan with sufficient boiling water to cover them, and let them simmer for 10 minutes; then take them out and put them into cold water. Now lard them, lay them in a stewpan, add the stock, seasoning, onions, mace, and a thickening of butter and flour, and stew gently for 1/4 hour or 20 minutes. Beat up the egg with the cream, to which add the minced parsley and a very little grated nutmeg. Put this to the other ingredients; stir it well till quite hot, but do not let it boil after the cream is added, or it will curdle. Have ready some asparagus-tops, boiled; add these to the sweetbreads, and serve. _Time_.--Altogether 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. to 3s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_--3 sweetbreads for 1 entrée. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. ANOTHER WAY TO DRESS SWEETBREADS (an Entree). 758. INGREDIENTS.--Sweetbreads, egg and bread crumbs, 1/2 pint of gravy, No. 442, 1/2 glass of sherry. _Mode_.--Soak the sweetbreads in water for an hour, and throw them into boiling water to render them firm. Let them stew gently for about 1/4 hour, take them out and put them into a cloth to drain all the water from them. Brush them over with egg, sprinkle them with bread crumbs, and either brown them in the oven or before the fire. Have ready the above quantity of gravy, to which add 1/2 glass of sherry; dish the sweetbreads, pour the gravy under them, and garnish with water-cresses. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. to 3s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_--3 sweetbreads for 1 entrée. _Seasonable_ from Easter to Michaelmas. MUTTON AND LAMB CARVING. HAUNCH OF MUTTON. [Illustration: HAUNCH OF MUTTON.] 759. A deep cut should, in the first place, be made quite down to the bone, across the knuckle-end of the joint, along the line 1 to 2. This will let the gravy escape; and then it should be carved, in not too thick slices, along the whole length of the haunch, in the direction of the line from 4 to 3. [Illustration: LEG OF MUTTON.] LEG OF MUTTON. 760. This homely, but capital English joint, is almost invariably served at table as shown in the engraving. The carving of it is not very difficult: the knife should be carried sharply down in the direction of the line from 1 to 2, and slices taken from either side, as the guests may desire, some liking the knuckle-end, as well done, and others preferring the more underdone part. The fat should be sought near the line 3 to 4. Some connoisseurs are fond of having this joint dished with the under-side uppermost, so as to get at the finely-grained meat lying under that part of the meat, known as the Pope's eye; but this is an extravagant fashion, and one that will hardly find favour in the eyes of many economical British housewives and housekeepers. LOIN OF MUTTON. [Illustration: LOIN OF MUTTON.] 761. There is one point in connection with carving a loin of mutton which includes every other; that is, that the joint should be thoroughly well jointed by the butcher before it is cooked. This knack of jointing requires practice and the proper tools; and no one but the butcher is supposed to have these. If the bones be not well jointed, the carving of a loin of mutton is not a gracious business; whereas, if that has been attended to, it is an easy and untroublesome task. The knife should be inserted at fig. 1, and after feeling your way between the bones, it should be carried sharply in the direction of the line 1 to 2. As there are some people who prefer the outside cut, while others do not like it, the question as to their choice of this should be asked. SADDLE OF MUTTON. [Illustration: SADDLE OF MUTTON.] 762. Although we have heard, at various intervals, growlings expressed at the inevitable "saddle of mutton" at the dinner-parties of our middle classes, yet we doubt whether any other joint is better liked, when it has been well hung and artistically cooked. There is a diversity of opinion respecting the mode of sending this joint to table; but it has only reference to whether or no there shall be any portion of the tail, or, if so, how many joints of the tail. We ourselves prefer the mode as shown in our coloured illustration "O;" but others may, upon equally good grounds, like the way shown in the engraving on this page. Some trim the tail with a paper frill. The carving is not difficult: it is usually cut in the direction of the line from 2 to 1, quite down to the bones, in evenly-sliced pieces. A fashion, however, patronized by some, is to carve it obliquely, in the direction of the line from 4 to 3; in which case the joint would be turned round the other way, having the tail end on the right of the carver. SHOULDER OF MUTTON. [Illustration: SHOULDER OF MUTTON.] 763. This is a joint not difficult to carve. The knife should be drawn from the outer edge of the shoulder in the direction of the line from 1 to 2, until the bone of the shoulder is reached. As many slices as can be carved in this manner should be taken, and afterwards the meat lying on either side of the blade-bone should be served, by carving in the direction of 3 to 4 and 3 to 4. The uppermost side of the shoulder being now finished, the joint should be turned, and slices taken off along its whole length. There are some who prefer this under-side of the shoulder for its juicy flesh, although the grain of the meat is not so fine as that on the other side. FORE-QUARTER OF LAMB. [Illustration: FORE-QUARTER OF LAMB.] 764. We always think that a good and practised carver delights in the manipulation of this joint, for there is a little field for his judgment and dexterity which does not always occur. The separation of the shoulder from the breast is the first point to be attended to; this is done by passing the knife lightly round the dotted line, as shown by the figures 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, so as to cut through the skin, and then, by raising with a little force the shoulder, into which the fork should be firmly fixed, it will come away with just a little more exercise of the knife. In dividing the shoulder and breast, the carver should take care not to cut away too much of the meat from the latter, as that would rather spoil its appearance when the shoulder is removed. The breast and shoulder being separated, it is usual to lay a small piece of butter, and sprinkle a little cayenne, lemon-juice, and salt between them; and when this is melted and incorporated with the meat and gravy, the shoulder may, as more convenient, be removed into another dish. The, next operation is to separate the ribs from the brisket, by cutting through the meat on the line 5 to 6. The joint is then ready to be served to the guests; the ribs being carved in the direction of the lines from 9 to 10, and the brisket from 7 to 8. The carver should ask those at the table what parts they prefer-ribs, brisket, or a piece of the shoulder. LEG OF LAMB, LOIN OF LAMB, SADDLE OF LAMB, SHOULDER OF LAMB, are carved in the same manner as the corresponding joints of mutton. (_See_ Nos. 760, 761, 762, 763.) [Illustration] CHAPTER XVI. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE COMMON HOG. 765. THE HOG belongs to the order _Mammalia_, the genus _Sus scrofa_, and the species _Pachydermata_, or thick-skinned; and its generic characters are, a small head, with long flexible snout truncated; 42 teeth, divided into 4 upper incisors, converging, 6 lower incisors, projecting, 2 upper and 2 lower canine, or tusks,--the former short, the latter projecting, formidable, and sharp, and 14 molars in each jaw; cloven feet furnished with 4 toes, and tail, small, short, and twisted; while, in some varieties, this appendage is altogether wanting. 766. FROM THE NUMBER AND POSITION OF THE TEETH, physiologists are enabled to define the nature and functions of the animal; and from those of the _Sus_, or hog, it is evident that he is as much a _grinder_ as a _biter_, or can live as well on vegetable as on animal food; though a mixture of both is plainly indicated as the character of food most conducive to the integrity and health of its physical system. 767. THUS THE PIG TRIBE, though not a ruminating mammal, as might be inferred from the number of its molar teeth, is yet a link between the _herbivorous_ and the _carnivorous_ tribes, and is consequently what is known as an _omnivorous_ quadruped; or, in other words, capable of converting any kind of aliment into nutriment. 768. THOUGH THE HOOF IN THE HOG is, as a general rule, cloven, there are several remarkable exceptions, as in the species native to Norway, Illyria, Sardinia, and _formerly_ to the Berkshire variety of the British domesticated pig, in which the hoof is entire and _un_cleft. 769. WHATEVER DIFFERENCE IN ITS PHYSICAL NATURE, climate and soil may produce in this animal, his functional characteristics are the same in whatever part of the world he may be found; and whether in the trackless forests of South America, the coral isles of Polynesia, the jungles of India, or the spicy brakes of Sumatra, he is everywhere known for his gluttony, laziness, and indifference to the character and quality of his food. And though he occasionally shows an epicure's relish for a succulent plant or a luscious carrot, which he will discuss with all his salivary organs keenly excited, he will, the next moment, turn with equal gusto to some carrion offal that might excite the forbearance of the unscrupulous cormorant. It is this coarse and repulsive mode of feeding that has, in every country and language, obtained for him the opprobrium of being "an unclean animal." 770. IN THE MOSAICAL LAW, the pig is condemned as an unclean beast, and consequently interdicted to the Israelites, as unfit for human food. "And the swine, though he divideth the hoof and be cloven-footed, yet he cheweth not the cud. He is unclean to you."--Lev. xi. 7. Strict, however, as the law was respecting the cud-chewing and hoof-divided animals, the Jews, with their usual perversity and violation of the divine commands, seem afterwards to have ignored the prohibition; for, unless they ate pork, it is difficult to conceive for what purpose they kept troves of swine, as from the circumstance recorded in Matthew xviii. 32, when Jesus was in Galilee, and the devils, cast out of the two men, were permitted to enter the herd of swine that were feeding on the hills in the neighbourhood of the Sea of Tiberias, it is very evident they did. There is only one interpretation by which we can account for a prohibition that debarred the Jews from so many foods which we regard as nutritious luxuries, that, being fat and the texture more hard of digestion than other meats, they were likely, in a hot dry climate, where vigorous exercise could seldom be taken, to produce disease, and especially cutaneous affections; indeed, in this light, as a code of sanitary ethics, the book of Leviticus is the most admirable system of moral government ever conceived for man's benefit. 771. SETTING HIS COARSE FEEDING AND SLOVENLY HABITS OUT OF THE QUESTION, there is no domestic animal so profitable or so useful to man as the much-maligned pig, or any that yields him a more varied or more luxurious repast. The prolific powers of the pig are extraordinary, even under the restraint of domestication; but when left to run wild in favourable situations, as in the islands of the South Pacific, the result, in a few years, from two animals put on shore and left undisturbed, is truly surprising; for they breed so fast, and have such numerous litters, that unless killed off in vast numbers both for the use of the inhabitants and as fresh provisions for ships' crews, they would degenerate into vermin. In this country the pig has usually two litters, or farrows, in a year, the breeding seasons being April and October; and the period the female goes with her young is about four months,--16 weeks or 122 days. The number produced at each litter depends upon the character of the breed; 12 being the average number in the small variety, and 10 in the large; in the mixed breeds, however, the average is between 10 and 15, and in some instances has reached as many as 20. But however few, or however many, young pigs there may be to the farrow, there is always one who is the dwarf of the family circle, a poor, little, shrivelled, half-starved anatomy, with a small melancholy voice, a staggering gait, a woe-begone countenance, and a thread of a tail, whose existence the complacent mother ignores, his plethoric brothers and sisters repudiate, and for whose emaciated jaws there is never a spare or supplemental teat, till one of the favoured gormandizers, overtaken by momentary oblivion, drops the lacteal fountain, and gives the little squeaking straggler the chance of a momentary mouthful. This miserable little object, which may be seen bringing up the rear of every litter, is called the Tony pig, or the _Anthony_; so named, it is presumed, from being the one always assigned to the Church, when tithe was taken in kind; and as St. Anthony was the patron of husbandry, his name was given in a sort of bitter derision to the starveling that constituted his dues; for whether there are ten or fifteen farrows to the litter, the Anthony is always the last of the family to come into the world. 772. FROM THE GROSSNESS OF HIS FEEDING, the large amount of aliment he consumes, his gluttonous way of eating it, from his slothful habits, laziness, and indulgence in sleep, the pig is particularly liable to disease, and especially indigestion, heartburn, and affections of the skin. 773. TO COUNTERACT THE CONSEQUENCE OF A VIOLATION OF THE PHYSICAL LAWS, a powerful monitor in the brain of the pig teaches him to seek for relief and medicine. To open the pores of his skin, blocked up with mud, and excite perspiration, he resorts to a tree, a stump, or his trough--anything rough and angular, and using it as a curry-comb to his body, obtains the luxury of a scratch and the benefit of cuticular evaporation; he next proceeds with his long supple snout to grub up antiscorbutic roots, cooling salads of mallow and dandelion, and, greatest treat of all, he stumbles on a piece of chalk or a mouthful of delicious cinder, which, he knows by instinct, is the most sovereign remedy in the world for that hot, unpleasant sensation he has had all the morning at his stomach. 774. IT IS A REMARKABLE FACT that, though every one who keeps a pig knows how prone he is to disease, how that disease injures the quality of the meat, and how eagerly he pounces on a bit of coal or cinder, or any coarse dry substance that will adulterate the rich food on which he lives, and by affording soda to his system, correct the vitiated fluids of his body,--yet very few have the judgment to act on what they see, and by supplying the pig with a few shovelfuls of cinders in his sty, save the necessity of his rooting for what is so needful to his health. Instead of this, however, and without supplying the animal with what its instinct craves for, his nostril is bored with a red-hot iron, and a ring clinched in his nose to prevent rooting for what he feels to be absolutely necessary for his health; and ignoring the fact that, in a domestic state at least, the pig lives on the richest of all food,--scraps of cooked animal substances, boiled vegetables, bread, and other items, given in that concentrated essence of aliment for a quadruped called wash, and that he eats to repletion, takes no exercise, and finally sleeps all the twenty-four hours he is not eating, and then, when the animal at last seeks for those medicinal aids which would obviate the evil of such a forcing diet, his keeper, instead of meeting his animal instinct by human reason, and giving him what he seeks, has the inhumanity to torture him by a ring, that, keeping up a perpetual "raw" in the pig's snout, prevents his digging for those corrective drugs which would remove the evils of his artificial existence. 775. THOUGH SUBJECT TO SO MANY DISEASES, no domestic animal is more easily kept in health, cleanliness, and comfort, and this without the necessity of "ringing," or any excessive desire of the hog to roam, break through his sty, or plough up his _pound_. Whatever the kind of food may be on which the pig is being fed or fattened, a teaspoonful or more of salt should always be given in his mess of food, and a little heap of well-burnt cinders, with occasional bits of chalk, should always be kept by the side of his trough, as well as a vessel of clean water: his pound, or the front part of his sty, should be totally free from straw, the brick flooring being every day swept out and sprinkled with a layer of sand. His lair, or sleeping apartment, should be well sheltered by roof and sides from cold, wet, and all changes of weather, and the bed made up of a good supply of clean straw, sufficiently deep to enable the pig to burrow his unprotected body beneath it. All the refuse of the garden, in the shape of roots, leaves, and stalks, should be placed in a corner of his pound or feeding-chamber, for the delectation of his leisure moments; and once a week, on the family washing-day, a pail of warm soap-suds should be taken into his sty, and, by means of a scrubbing-brush and soap, his back, shoulders, and flanks should be well cleaned, a pail of clean warm water being thrown over his body at the conclusion, before he is allowed to retreat to his clean straw to dry himself. By this means, the excessive nutrition of his aliment will be corrected, a more perfect digestion insured, and, by opening the pores of the skin, a more vigorous state of health acquired than could have been obtained under any other system. 776. WE HAVE ALREADY SAID that no other animal yields man so _many_ kinds and varieties of luxurious food as is supplied to him by the flesh of the hog differently prepared; for almost every part of the animal, either fresh, salted, or dried, is used for food; and even those viscera not so employed are of the utmost utility in a domestic point of view. 777. THOUGH DESTITUTE OF THE HIDE, HORNS, AND HOOFS, constituting the offal of most domestic animals, the pig is not behind the other mammalia in its usefulness to man. Its skin, especially that of the boar, from its extreme closeness of texture, when tanned, is employed for the seats of saddles, to cover powder, shot, and drinking-flasks; and the hair, according to its colour, flexibility, and stubbornness, is manufactured into tooth, nail, and hairbrushes,--others into hat, clothes, and shoe-brushes; while the longer and finer qualities are made into long and short brooms and painters' brushes; and a still more rigid description, under the name of "bristles," are used by the shoemaker as needles for the passage of his wax-end. Besides so many benefits and useful services conferred on man by this valuable animal, his fat, in a commercial sense, is quite as important as his flesh, and brings a price equal to the best joints in the carcase. This fat is rendered, or melted out of the caul, or membrane in which it is contained, by boiling water, and, while liquid, run into prepared bladders, when, under the name of _lard_, it becomes an article of extensive trade and value. 778. OF THE NUMEROUS VARIETIES OF THE DOMESTICATED HOG, the following list of breeds may be accepted as the best, presenting severally all those qualities aimed at in the rearing of domestic stock, as affecting both the breeder and the consumer. _Native_--Berkshire, Essex, York, and Cumberland; _Foreign_--the Chinese. Before, however, proceeding with the consideration of the different orders, in the series we have placed them, it will be necessary to make a few remarks relative to the pig generally. In the first place, the _Black Pig_ is regarded by breeders as the best and most eligible animal, not only from the fineness and delicacy of the skin, but because it is less affected by the heat in summer, and far less subject to cuticular disease than either the white or brindled hog, but more particularly from its kindlier nature and greater aptitude to fatten. 779. THE GREAT QUALITY FIRST SOUGHT FOR IN A HOG is a capacious stomach, and next, a healthy power of digestion; for the greater the quantity he can eat, and the more rapidly he can digest what he has eaten, the more quickly will he fatten; and the faster he can be made to increase in flesh, without a material increase of bone, the better is the breed considered, and the more valuable the animal. In the usual order of nature, the development of flesh and enlargement of bone proceed together; but here the object is to outstrip the growth of the bones by the quicker development of their fleshy covering. 780. THE CHIEF POINTS SOUGHT FOR IN THE CHOICE OF A HOG are breadth of chest, depth of carcase, width of loin, chine, and ribs, compactness of form, docility, cheerfulness, and general beauty of appearance. The head in a well-bred hog must not be too long, the forehead narrow and convex, cheeks full, snout fine, mouth small, eyes small and quick, ears short, thin, and sharp, pendulous, and pointing forwards; neck full and broad, particularly on the top, where it should join very broad shoulders; the ribs, loin, and haunch should be in a uniform line, and the tail well set, neither too high nor too low; at the same time the back is to be straight or slightly curved, the chest deep, broad, and prominent, the legs short and thick; the belly, when well fattened, should nearly touch the ground, the hair be long, thin, fine, and having few bristles, and whatever the colour, uniform, either white, black, or blue; but not spotted, speckled, brindled, or sandy. Such are the features and requisites that, among breeders and judges, constitute the _beau idéal_ of a perfect pig. [Illustration: BERKSHIRE SOW.] 781. THE BERKSHIRE PIG IS THE BEST KNOWN AND MOST ESTEEMED of all our English domestic breeds, and so highly is it regarded, that even the varieties of the stock are in as great estimation as the parent breed itself. The characteristics of the Berkshire hog are that it has a tawny colour, spotted with black, large ears hanging over the eyes, a thick, close, and well-made body, legs short and small in the bone; feeds up to a great weight, fattens quickly, and is good either for pork or bacon. The New or Improved Berkshire possesses all the above qualities, but is infinitely more prone to fatten, while the objectionable colour has been entirely done away with, being now either all white or completely black. [Illustration: ESSEX SOW.] 782. NEXT TO THE FORMER, THE ESSEX takes place in public estimation, always competing, and often successfully, with the Berkshire. The peculiar characters of the Essex breed are that it is tip-eared, has a long sharp head, is roach-backed, with a long flat body, standing high on the legs; is rather bare of hair, is a quick feeder, has an enormous capacity of stomach and belly, and an appetite to match its receiving capability. Its colour is white, or else black and white, and it has a restless habit and an unquiet disposition. The present valuable stock has sprung from a cross between the common native animal and either the White Chinese or Black Neapolitan breeds. [Illustration: YORKSHIRE SOW.] 783. THE YORKSHIRE, CALLED ALSO THE OLD LINCOLNSHIRE, was at one time the largest stock of the pig family in England, and perhaps, at that time, the worst. It was long-legged, weak in the loins, with coarse white curly hair, and flabby flesh. Now, however, it has undergone as great a change as any breed in the kingdom, and by judicious crossing has become the most valuable we possess, being a very well-formed pig throughout, with a good head, a pleasant docile countenance, with moderate-sized drooping ears, a broad back, slightly curved, large chine and loins, with deep sides, full chest, and well covered with long thickly-set white hairs. Besides these qualities of form, he is a quick grower, feeds fast, and will easily make from 20 to 25 stone before completing his first year. The quality of the meat is also uncommonly good, the fat and lean being laid on in almost equal proportions. So capable is this species of development, both in flesh and stature, that examples of the Yorkshire breed have been exhibited weighing as much as a Scotch ox. [Illustration: CUMBERLAND SOW.] 784. THOUGH ALMOST EVERY COUNTRY IN ENGLAND can boast some local variety or other of this useful animal, obtained from the native stock by crossing with some of the foreign kinds, Cumberland and the north-west parts of the kingdom have been celebrated for a small breed of white pigs, with a thick, compact, and well-made body, short in the legs, the head and back well formed, ears slouching and a little downwards, and on the whole, a hardy, profitable animal, and one well disposed to fatten. 785. THERE IS NO VARIETY OF THIS USEFUL ANIMAL that presents such peculiar features as the species known to us as the Chinese pig; and as it is the general belief that to this animal and the Neapolitan hog we are indebted for that remarkable improvement which has taken place in the breeds of the English pig, it is necessary to be minute in the description of this, in all respects, singular animal. The Chinese, in the first place, consists of many varieties, and presents as many forms of body as differences of colour; the best kind, however, has a beautiful white skin of singular thinness and delicacy; the hair too is perfectly white, and thinly set over the body, with here and there a few bristles. He has a broad snout, short head, eyes bright and fiery, very small fine pink ears, wide cheeks, high chine, with a neck of such immense thickness, that when the animal is fat it looks like an elongated carcase,--a mass of fat, without shape or form, like a feather pillow. The belly is dependent, and almost trailing on the ground, the legs very short, and the tail so small as to be little more than a rudiment. It has a ravenous appetite, and will eat anything that the wonderful assimilating powers of its stomach can digest; and to that capability, there seems no limit in the whole range of animal or vegetable nature. The consequence of this perfect and singularly rapid digestion is an unprecedented proneness to obesity, a process of fattening that, once commenced, goes on with such rapid development, that, in a short time, it loses all form, depositing such an amount of fat, that it in fact ceases to have any refuse part or offal, and, beyond the hair on its back and the callous extremity of the snout, _the whole carcase is eatable_. [Illustration: CHINESE SOW.] 786. WHEN JUDICIOUSLY FED ON VEGETABLE DIET, and this obese tendency checked, the flesh of the Chinese pig is extremely delicate and delicious; but when left to gorge almost exclusively on animal food, it becomes oily, coarse, and unpleasant. Perhaps there is no other instance in nature where the effect of rapid and perfect digestion is so well shown as in this animal, which thrives on _everything_, and turns to the benefit of its physical economy, food of the most _opposite nature_, and of the most unwholesome and _offensive_ character. When fully fattened, the thin cuticle, that is one of its characteristics, cracks, from the adipose distension beneath, exposing the fatty mass, which discharges a liquid oil from the adjacent tissues. The great fault in this breed is the remarkably small quantity of lean laid down, to the immense proportion of fat. Some idea of the growth of this species may be inferred from the fact of their attaining to 18 stone before two years, and when further advanced, as much as 40 stone. In its pure state, except for roasters, the Chinese pig is too disproportionate for the English market; but when crossed with some of our lean stock, the breed becomes almost invaluable. [Illustration: WESTPHALIAN BOAR.] 787. THE WILD BOAR is a much more cleanly and sagacious animal than the domesticated hog; he is longer in the snout, has his ears shorter and his tusks considerably longer, very frequently measuring as much as 10 inches. They are extremely sharp, and are bent in an upward circle. Unlike his domestic brother, who roots up here and there, or wherever his fancy takes, the wild boar ploughs the ground in continuous lines or furrows. The boar, when selected as the parent of a stock, should have a small head, be deep and broad in the chest; the chine should be arched, the ribs and barrel well rounded, with the haunches falling full down nearly to the hock; and he should always be more compact and smaller than the female. The colour of the wild boar is always of a uniform hue, and generally of an iron grey; shading off into a black. The hair of the boar is of considerable length, especially about the head and mane; he stands, in general, from 20 to 30 inches in height at the shoulders, though instances have occurred where he has reached 42 inches. The young are of a pale yellowish tint, irregularly brindled with light brown. The boar of Germany is a large and formidable animal, and the hunting of him, with a small species of mastiff, is still a national sport. From living almost exclusively on acorns and nuts, his flesh is held in great esteem, and in Westphalia his legs are made into hams by a process which, it is said, enhances the flavour and quality of the meat in a remarkable degree. 788. THERE ARE TWO POINTS to be taken into consideration by all breeders of pigs--to what ultimate use is the flesh to be put; for, if meant to be eaten fresh, or simply salted, the _small_ breed of pigs is host suited for the purpose; if for hams or bacon, the large variety of the animal is necessary. Pigs are usually weaned between six and eight weeks after birth, after which they are fed on soft food, such as mashed potatoes in skimmed or butter-milk. The general period at which the small hogs are killed for the market is from 12 to 16 weeks; from 4 to 5 mouths, they are called store pigs, and are turned out to graze till the animal has acquired its full stature. As soon as this point has been reached, the pig should be forced to maturity as quickly as possible; he should therefore be taken from the fields and farm-yard, and shut up on boiled potatoes, buttermilk, and peas-meal, after a time to be followed by grains, oil-cake, wash, barley, and Indian meal; supplying his sty at the same time with plenty of water, cinders, and a quantity of salt in every mess of food presented to him. 789. THE ESTIMATED NUMBER OF PIGS IN GREAT BRITAIN is supposed to exceed 20 millions; and, considering the third of the number as worth £2 apiece, and the remaining two-thirds as of the relative value of _10s_. each, would give a marketable estimate of over £20,000,000 for this animal alone. 790. THE BEST AND MOST HUMANE MODE OF KILLING ALL LARGE HOGS is to strike them down like a bullock, with the pointed end of a poleaxe, on the forehead, which has the effect of killing the animal at once; all the butcher has then to do, is to open the aorta and great arteries, and laying the animal's neck over a trough, let out the blood as quickly as possible. The carcase is then to be scalded, either on a board or by immersion in a tub of very hot water, and all the hair and dirt rapidly scraped off, till the skin is made perfectly white, when it is hung up, opened, and dressed, as it is called, in the usual way. It is then allowed to cool, a sheet being thrown around the carcase, to prevent the air from discolouring the newly-cleaned skin. When meant for bacon, the hair is singed instead of being scalded off. 791. IN THE COUNTRY, where for ordinary consumption the pork killed for sale is usually both larger and fatter than that supplied to the London consumer, it is customary to remove the skin and fat down to the lean, and, salting that, roast what remains of the joint. Pork goes further, and is consequently a more economical food than other meats, simply because the texture is closer, and there is less waste in the cooking, either in roasting or boiling. 792. IN FRESH PORK, the leg is the most economical family joint, and the loin the richest. 793. COMPARATIVELY SPEAKING, very little difference exists between the weight of the live and dead pig, and this, simply because there is neither the head nor the hide to be removed. It has been proved that pork loses in cooking 13-1/2, per cent. of its weight. A salted hand weighing 4 lbs. 5 oz. lost in the cooking 11 oz.; after cooking, the meat weighing only 3 lbs. 1 oz., and the bone 9 oz. The original cost was 7-1/2d. a pound; but by this deduction, the cost rose to 9d. per pound with the bone, and 10-1/4d. without it. 794. PORK, TO BE PRESERVED, is cured in several ways,--either by covering it with salt, or immersing it in ready-made brine, where it is kept till required; or it is only partially salted, and then hung up to dry, when the meat is called white bacon; or, after salting, it is hung in wood smoke till the flesh is impregnated with the aroma from the wood. The Wiltshire bacon, which is regarded as the finest in the kingdom, is prepared by laying the sides of a hog in large wooden troughs, and then rubbing into the flesh quantities of powdered bay-salt, made hot in a frying-pan. This process is repeated for four days; they are then left for three weeks, merely turning the flitches every other day. After that time they are hung up to dry. The hogs usually killed for purposes of bacon in England average from 18 to 20 stone; on the other hand, the hogs killed in the country for farm-house purposes, seldom weigh less than 26 stone. The legs of boars, hogs, and, in Germany, those of bears, are prepared differently, and called hams. 795. THE PRACTICE IN VOGUE FORMERLY in this country was to cut out the hams and cure them separately; then to remove the ribs, which were roasted as "spare-ribs," and, curing the remainder of the side, call it a "gammon of bacon." Small pork to cut for table in joints, is cut up, in most places throughout the kingdom, as represented in the engraving. The sale is divided with nine ribs to the fore quarter; and the following is an enumeration of the joints in the two respective quarters:-- 1. The leg. HIND QUARTER 2. The loin. 3. The spring, or belly. 4. The hand. FORE QUARTER 5. The fore-loin. 6. The cheek. [Illustration: SIDE OF A PIG, SHOWING THE SEVERAL JOINTS.] The weight of the several joints of a good pork pig of four stone may be as follows; viz.:-- The leg 8 lbs. The loin and spring 7 lbs. The hand 6 lbs. The chine 7 lbs. The cheek from 2 to 3 lbs. Of a bacon pig, the legs are reserved for curing, and when cured are called hams: when the meat is separated from the shoulder-blade and bones and cured, it is called bacon. The bones, with part of the meat left on them, are divided into spare-ribs, griskins, and chines. CHAPTER XVII. PORK CUTLETS (Cold Meat Cookery). 796. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast loin of pork, 1 oz. of butter, 2 onions, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1/2 pint of gravy, pepper and salt to taste, 1 teaspoonful of vinegar and mustard. _Mode_.--Cut the pork into nice-sized cutlets, trim off most of the fat, and chop the onions. Put the butter into a stewpan, lay in the cutlets and chopped onions, and fry a light brown; then add the remaining ingredients, simmer gently for 5 or 7 minutes, and serve. _Time_.--5 to 7 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ from October to March. AUSTRIAN METHOD OF HERDING PIGS.--In the Austrian empire there are great numbers of wild swine, while, among the wandering tribes peopling the interior of Hungary, and spreading over the vast steppes of that country, droves of swine form a great portion of the wealth of the people, who chiefly live on a coarse bread and wind-dried bacon. In German Switzerland, the Tyrol, and other mountainous districts of continental Europe, though the inhabitants, almost everywhere, as in England, keep one or more pigs, they are at little or no trouble in feeding them, one or more men being employed by one or several villages as swine-herds; who, at a certain hour, every morning, call for the pig or pigs, and driving them to their feeding-grounds on the mountain-side and in the wood, take custody of the herd till, on the approach of night, they are collected into a compact body and driven home for a night's repose in their several sties. The amount of intelligence and docility displayed by the pigs in these mountain regions, is much more considerable than that usually allowed to this animal, and the manner in which these immense herds of swine are collected, and again distributed, without an accident or mistake, is a sight both curious and interesting; for it is all done without the assistance of a dog, or the aid even of the human voice, and solely by the crack of the long-lashed and heavily-loaded whip, which the swine-herd carries, and cracks much after the fashion of the French postilion; and which, though he frequently cracks, waking a hundred sharp echoes from the woods and rocks, he seldom has to use correctionally; the animal soon acquiring a thorough knowledge of the meaning of each crack; and once having felt its leaded thong, a lasting remembrance of its power. At early dawn, the swine-herd takes his stand at the outskirts of the first village, and begins flourishing through the misty air his immensely long lash, keeping a sort of rude time with the crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack of his whip. The nearest pigs, hearing the well-remembered sound, rouse from their straw, and rush from their sties into the road, followed by all their litters. As soon as a sufficient number are collected, the drove is set in motion, receiving, right and left, as they advance, fresh numbers; whole communities, or solitary individuals, streaming in from all quarters, and taking their place, without distinction, in the general herd; and, as if conscious where their breakfast lay, without wasting a moment on idle investigation, all eagerly push on to the mountains. In this manner village after village is collected, till the drove not unfrequently consists of several thousands. The feeding-ground has, of course, often to be changed, and the drove have sometimes to be driven many miles, and to a considerable height up the mountain, before the whip gives the signal for the dispersion of the body and the order to feed, when the herdsman proceeds to form himself a shelter, and look after his own comfort for the rest of the day. As soon as twilight sets in, the whip is again heard echoing the signal for muster; and in the same order in which they were collected, the swine are driven back, each group tailing off to its respective sty, as the herd approaches the villages, till the last grunter, having found his home, the drover seeks his cottage and repose. PORK CUTLETS OR CHOPS. I. 797. INGREDIENTS.--Loin of pork, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the cutlets from a delicate loin of pork, bone and trim them neatly, and cut away the greater portion of the fat. Season them with pepper; place the gridiron on the fire; when quite hot, lay on the chops and broil them for about 1/4 hour, turning them 3 or 4 times; and be particular that they are _thoroughly_ done, but not dry. Dish them, sprinkle over a little fine salt, and serve plain, or with tomato sauce, sauce piquante, or pickled gherkins, a few of which should be laid round the dish as a garnish. _Time_.--About 1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. for chops. _Sufficient_.--Allow 6 for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to March. II. (_Another Way_.) 798. INGREDIENTS.--Loin or fore-loin, of pork, egg and bread crumbs, salt and pepper to taste; to every tablespoonful of bread crumbs allow 1/2 teaspoonful of minced sage; clarified butter. _Mode_.--Cut the cutlets from a loin, or fore-loin, of pork; trim them the same as mutton cutlets, and scrape the top part of the bone. Brush them over with egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs, with which have been mixed minced sage and a seasoning of pepper and salt; drop a little clarified butter on them, and press the crumbs well down. Put the frying-pan on the fire, put in some lard; when this is hot, lay in the cutlets, and fry them a light brown on both sides. Take them out, put them before the fire to dry the greasy moisture from them, and dish them on mashed potatoes. Serve with them any sauce that may be preferred; such as tomato sauce, sauce piquante, sauce Robert, or pickled gherkins. _Time_.--From 15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. for chops. _Sufficient_.--Allow 6 cutlets for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to March. _Note_.--The remains of roast loin of pork may be dressed in the same manner. PORK CHEESE (an Excellent Breakfast Dish). 799. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of cold roast pork, pepper and salt to taste, 1 dessertspoonful of minced parsley, 4 leaves of sage, a very small bunch of savoury herbs, 2 blades of pounded mace, a little nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel; good strong gravy, sufficient to fill the mould. _Mode_.--Cut, but do not chop, the pork into fine pieces, and allow 1/4 lb. of fat to each pound of lean. Season with pepper and salt; pound well the spices, and chop finely the parsley, sage, herbs, and lemon-peel, and mix the whole nicely together. Put it into a mould, fill up with good strong well-flavoured gravy, and bake rather more than one hour. When cold, turn it out of the mould. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Seasonable_ from October to March. ROAST LEG OF PORK. [Illustration: ROAST LEG OF PORK.] 800. INGREDIENTS.--Leg of pork, a little oil for stuffing. (See Recipe No. 504.) _Mode_.--Choose a small leg of pork, and score the skin across in narrow strips, about 1/4 inch apart. Cut a slit in the knuckle, loosen the skin, and fill it with a sage-and-onion stuffing, made by Recipe No. 504. Brush the joint over with a little salad-oil (this makes the crackling crisper, and a better colour), and put it down to a bright, clear fire, not too near, as that would cause the skin to blister. Baste it well, and serve with a little gravy made in the dripping-pan, and do not omit to send to table with it a tureen of well-made apple-sauce. (Sec No. 363.) _Time_.--A leg of pork weighing 8 lbs., about 3 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. ENGLISH MODE OF HUNTING, AND INDIAN PIG-STICKING.--The hunting of the wild boar has been in all times, and in all countries, a pastime of the highest interest and excitement, and from the age of Nimrod, has only been considered second to the more dangerous sport of lion-hunting. The buried treasures of Nineveh, restored to us by Mr. Layard, show us, on their sculptured annals, the kings of Assyria in their royal pastime of boar-hunting. That the Greeks were passionately attached to this sport, we know both from history and the romantic fables of the poets. Marc Antony, at one of his breakfasts with Cleopatra, had _eight wild boars_ roasted whole; and though the Romans do not appear to have been addicted to hunting, wild-boar fights formed part of their gladiatorial shows in the amphitheatre. In France, Germany, and Britain, from the earliest time, the boar-hunt formed one of the most exciting of sports; but it was only in this country that the sport was conducted without dogs,--a real hand-to-hand contest of man and beast; the hunter, armed only with a boar-spear, a weapon about four feet long, the ash staff, guarded by plates of steel, and terminating in a long, narrow, and very sharp blade: this, with a hunting-knife, or hanger, completed his offensive arms. Thus equipped, the hunter would either encounter his enemy face to face, confront his desperate charge, as with erect tail, depressed head, and flaming eyes, he rushed with his foamy tusks full against him, who either sought to pierce his vitals through his counter, or driving his spear through his chine, transfix his heart; or failing those more difficult aims, plunge it into his flank, and, without withdrawing the weapon, strike his ready hanger into his throat. But expert as the hunter might be, it was not often the formidable brute was so quickly dispatched; for he would sometimes seize the spear in his powerful teeth, and nip it off like a reed, or, coming full tilt on his enemy, by his momentum and weight bear him to the earth, ripping up, with a horrid gash, his leg or side, and before the writhing hunter could draw his knife, the infuriated beast would plunge his snout in the wound, and rip, with savage teeth, the bowels of his victim. At other times, he would suddenly swerve from his charge, and doubling on his opponent, attack the hunter in the rear. From his speed, great weight, and savage disposition, the wild boar is always a dangerous antagonist, and requires great courage, coolness, and agility on the part of the hunter. The continental sportsman rides to the chase in a cavalcade, with music and dogs,--a kind of small hound or mastiff, and leaving all the honorary part of the contest to them, when the boar is becoming weary, and while beset by the dogs, rides up, and drives his lance home in the beast's back or side. Boar-hunting has been for some centuries obsolete in England, the animal no longer existing in a wild state among us; but in our Indian empire, and especially in Bengal, the pastime is pursued by our countrymen with all the daring of the national character; and as the animal which inhabits the cane-brakes and jungles is a formidable foe, the sport is attended with great excitement. The hunters, mounted on small, active horses, and armed only with long lances, ride, at early daylight, to the skirts of the jungle, and having sent in their attendants to beat the cover, wait till the tusked monster comes crashing from among the canes, when chase is immediately given, till he is come up with, and transfixed by the first weapon. Instead of flight, however, he often turns to bay, and by more than one dead horse and wounded hunter, shows how formidable he is, and what those polished tusks, sharp as pitch-forks, can effect, when the enraged animal defends his life. TO GLAZE HAM.--(See Recipe No. 430.) HASHED PORK. 801. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast pork, 2 onions, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 2 blades of pounded mace, 2 cloves, 1 tablespoonful of vinegar, 1/2 pint of gravy, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Chop the onions and fry them of a nice brown, cut the pork into thin slices, season them with pepper and salt, and add these to the remaining ingredients. Stew gently for about 1/2 hour, and serve garnished with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 3d. _Seasonable_ from October to March. FRIED RASHERS OF BACON AND POACHED EGGS. 802. INGREDIENTS.--Bacon; eggs. _Mode_.--Cut the bacon into thin slices, trim away the rusty parts, and cut off the rind. Put it into a cold frying-pan, that is to say, do not place the pan on the fire before the bacon is in it. Turn it 2 or 3 times, and dish it on a very hot dish. Poach the eggs and slip them on to the bacon, without breaking the yolks, and serve quickly. _Time_.--3 or 4 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. for the primest parts. _Sufficient_.--Allow 6 eggs for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Fried rashers of bacon, curled, serve as a pretty garnish to many dishes; and, for small families, answer very well as a substitute for boiled bacon, to serve with a small dish of poultry, &c. BROILED RASHERS OF BACON (a Breakfast Dish). 803. Before purchasing bacon, ascertain that it is perfectly free from rust, which may easily be detected by its yellow colour; and for broiling, the streaked part of the thick flank, is generally the most esteemed. Cut it into _thin_ slices, take off the rind, and broil over a nice clear fire; turn it 2 or 3 times, and serve very hot. Should there be any cold bacon left from the previous day, it answers very well for breakfast, cut into slices, and broiled or fried. _Time_.--3 or 4 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. for the primest parts. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--When the bacon is cut very thin, the slices may be curled round and fastened by means of small skewers, and fried or toasted before the fire. BOILED BACON. 804. INGREDIENTS.--Bacon; water. [Illustration: BOILED BACON.] _Mode_.--As bacon is frequently excessively salt, let it be soaked in warm water for an hour or two previous to dressing it; then pare off the rusty parts, and scrape the under-side and rind as clean as possible. Put it into a saucepan of _cold_ water, let it come gradually to a boil, and as fast as the scum rises to the surface of the water, remove it. Let it simmer very gently until it is _thoroughly_ done; then take it up, strip off the skin, and sprinkle over the bacon a few bread raspings, and garnish with tufts of cauliflower or Brussels sprouts. When served alone, young and tender broad beans or green peas are the usual accompaniments. _Time_.--1 lb. of bacon, 1/4 hour; 2 lbs., 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. for the primest parts. _Sufficient_.--2 lbs., when served with poultry or veal, sufficient for 10 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO CURE BACON IN THE WILTSHIRE WAY. 805. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of coarse sugar, 1-1/2 lb. of bay-salt, 6 oz. of saltpetre, 1 lb. of common salt. _Mode_.--Sprinkle each flitch with salt, and let the blood drain off for 24 hours; then pound and mix the above ingredients well together and rub it well into the meat, which should be turned every day for a month; then hang it to dry, and afterwards smoke it for 10 days. _Time_.--To remain in the pickle 1 month, to be smoked 10 days. _Sufficient_.--The above quantity of salt for 1 pig. HOW PIGS WERE FORMERLY PASTURED AND FED.--Though unquestionably far greater numbers of swine are now kept in England than formerly, every peasant having one or more of that useful animal, in feudal times immense droves of pigs were kept by the franklings and barons; in those days the swine-herds being a regular part of the domestic service of every feudal household, their duty consisted in daily driving the herd of swine from the castle-yard, or outlying farm, to the nearest woods, chase, or forest, where the frankling or vavasour had, either by right or grant, what was called _free warren_, or the liberty to feed his hogs off the acorns, beech, and chestnuts that lay in such abundance on the earth, and far exceeded the power of the royal or privileged game to consume. Indeed, it was the license granted the nobles of free warren, especially for their swine, that kept up the iniquitous forest laws to so late a date, and covered so large a portion of the land with such immense tracts of wood and brake, to the injury of agriculture and the misery of the people. Some idea of the extent to which swine were grazed in the feudal times, may be formed by observing the number of pigs still fed in Epping Forest, the Forest of Dean, and the New Forest, in Hampshire, where, for several months of the year, the beech-nuts and acorns yield them so plentiful a diet. In Germany, where the chestnut is so largely cultivated, the amount of food shed every autumn is enormous; and consequently the pig, both wild and domestic, has, for a considerable portion of the year, an unfailing supply of admirable nourishment. Impressed with the value of this fruit for the food of pigs, the Prince Consort has, with great judgment, of late encouraged the collection of chestnuts in Windsor Park, and by giving a small reward to old people and children for every bushel collected, has not only found an occupation for many of the unemployed poor, but, by providing a gratuitous food for their pig, encouraged a feeling of providence and economy. FOR CURING BACON, AND KEEPING IT FREE FROM RUST (Cobbett's Recipe). 806. THE TWO SIDES THAT REMAIN, and which are called flitches, are to be cured for bacon. They are first rubbed with salt on their insides, or flesh sides, then placed one on the other, the flesh sides uppermost, in a salting-trough which has a gutter round its edges to drain away the brine; for, to have sweet and fine bacon, the flitches must not be sopping in brine, which gives it the sort of vile taste that barrel and sea pork have. Every one knows how different is the taste of fresh dry salt from that of salt in a dissolved state; therefore change the salt often,--once in 4 or 5 days; let it melt and sink in, but not lie too long; twice change the flitches, put that at bottom which was first on the top: this mode will cost you a great deal more in salt than the sopping mode, but without it your bacon will not be so sweet and fine, nor keep so well. As for the time required in making your flitches sufficiently salt, it depends on circumstances. It takes a longer time for a thick than a thin flitch, and longer in dry than in damp weather, or in a dry than in a damp place; but for the flitches of a hog of five score, in weather not very dry or damp, about 6 weeks may do; and as yours is to be fat, which receives little injury from over-salting, give time enough, for you are to have bacon until Christmas comes again. 807. THE PLACE FOR SALTING SHOULD, like a dairy, always be cool, but well ventilated; confined air, though cool, will taint meat sooner than the midday day sun accompanied by a breeze. With regard to smoking the bacon, two precautions are necessary: first, to hang the flitches where no rain comes down upon them; and next, that the smoke must proceed from wood, not peat, turf, or coal. As to the time required to smoke a flitch, it depends a good deal upon whether there be a constant fire beneath; and whether the fire be large or small: a month will do, if the fire be pretty constant and rich, as a farmhouse fire usually is; but over-smoking, or rather too long hanging in the air, makes the bacon rust; great attention should therefore be paid to this matter. The flitch ought not to be dried up to the hardness of a board, and yet it ought to be perfectly dry. Before you hang it up, lay it on the floor, scatter the flesh side pretty thickly over with bran, or with some fine sawdust, not of deal or fir; rub it on the flesh, or pat it well down upon it: this keeps the smoke from getting into the little openings, and makes a sort of crust to be dried on. 808. To KEEP THE BACON SWEET AND GOOD, and free from hoppers, sift fine some clean and dry wood ashes. Put some at the bottom of a box or chest long enough to hold a flitch of bacon; lay in one flitch, and then put in more ashes, then another flitch, and cover this with six or eight inches of the ashes. The place where the box or chest is kept ought to be dry, and should the ashes become damp, they should be put in the fireplace to dry, and when cold, put back again. With these precautions, the bacon will be as good at the end of the year as on the first day. 809. FOR SIMPLE GENERAL RULES; these may be safely taken as a guide; and those who implicitly follow the directions given, will possess at the expiration of from 6 weeks to 2 months well-flavoured and well-cured bacon. HOG NOT BACON. ANECDOTE OF LORD BACON.--As Lord Bacon, on one occasion, was about to pass sentence of death upon a man of the name of Hogg, who had just been tried for a long career of crime, the prisoner suddenly claimed to be heard in arrest of judgment, saying, with an expression of arch confidence as he addressed the bench, "I claim indulgence, my lord, on the plea of relationship; for I am convinced your lordship will never be unnatural enough to hang one of your own family." "Indeed, replied the judge, with some amazement," I was not aware that I had the honour of your alliance; perhaps you will be good enough to name the degree of our mutual affinity." "I am sorry, my lord," returned the impudent thief, "I cannot trace the links of consanguinity; but the moral evidence is sufficiently pertinent. My name, my lord, is Hogg, your lordship's is Bacon; and all the world will allow that bacon and hog are very closely allied." "I am sorry," replied his lordship, "I cannot admit the truth of your instance: hog cannot be bacon till it is hanged; and so, before I can admit your plea, or acknowledge the family compact, Hogg must be hanged to-morrow morning." TO BAKE A HAM. 810. INGREDIENTS.--Ham; a common crust. Mode.--As a ham for baking should be well soaked, let it remain in water for at least 12 hours. Wipe it dry, trim away any rusty places underneath, and cover it with a common crust, taking care that this is of sufficient thickness all over to keep the gravy in. Place it in a moderately-heated oven, and bake for nearly 4 hours. Take off the crust, and skin, and cover with raspings, the same as for boiled ham, and garnish the knuckle with a paper frill. This method of cooking a ham is, by many persons, considered far superior to boiling it, as it cuts fuller of gravy and has a finer flavour, besides keeping a much longer time good. _Time_.--A medium-sized ham, 4 hours. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per lb. by the whole ham. _Seasonable_ all the year. TO BOIL A HAM. [Illustration: BOILED HAM.] 811. INGREDIENTS.--Ham, water, glaze or raspings. _Mode_.--In choosing a ham, ascertain that it is perfectly sweet, by running a sharp knife into it, close to the bone; and if, when the knife is withdrawn, it has an agreeable smell, the ham is good; if, on the contrary, the blade has a greasy appearance and offensive smell, the ham is bad. If it has been long hung, and is very dry and salt, let it remain in soak for 24 hours, changing the water frequently. This length of time is only necessary in the case of its being very hard; from 8 to 12 hours would be sufficient for a Yorkshire or Westmoreland ham. Wash it thoroughly clean, and trim away from the under-side, all the rusty and smoked parts, which would spoil the appearance. Put it into a boiling-pot, with sufficient cold water to cover it; bring it gradually to boil, and as the scum rises, carefully remove it. Keep it simmering very gently until tender, and be careful that it does not stop boiling, nor boil too quickly. When done, take it out of the pot, strip off the skin, and sprinkle over it a few fine bread-raspings, put a frill of cut paper round the knuckle, and serve. If to be eaten cold, let the ham remain in the water until nearly cold: by this method the juices are kept in, and it will be found infinitely superior to one taken out of the water hot; it should, however, be borne in mind that the ham must _not_ remain in the saucepan _all_ night. When the skin is removed, sprinkle over bread-raspings, or, if wanted particularly nice, glaze it. Place a paper frill round the knuckle, and garnish with parsley or cut vegetable flowers. (_See_ Coloured Plate P.) _Time_.--A ham weighing 10 lbs., 4 hours to _simmer gently_; 15 lbs., 5 hours; a very large one, about 5 hours. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per lb. by the whole ham. _Seasonable_ all the year. HOW TO BOIL A HAM TO GIVE IT AN EXCELLENT FLAVOUR. 812. INGREDIENTS.--Vinegar and water, 2 heads of celery, 2 turnips, 3 onions, a large bunch of savoury herbs. _Mode_.--Prepare the ham as in the preceding recipe, and let it soak for a few hours in vinegar and water. Put it on in cold water, and when it boils, add the vegetables and herbs. Simmer very gently until tender, take it out, strip off the skin, cover with bread-raspings, and put a paper ruche or frill round the knuckle. _Time_.--A ham weighing 10 lbs., 4 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. to 10d. per lb. by the whole ham. _Seasonable_ at any time. HOW TO SILENCE A PIG. ANECDOTE OF CHARLES V.--When the emperor Charles V. was one day walking in the neighbourhood of Vienna, full of pious considerations, engendered by the thoughts of the Dominican cloister he was about to visit, he was much annoyed by the noise of a pig, which a country youth was carrying a little way before him. At length, irritated by the unmitigated noise, "Have you not learned how to quiet a pig" demanded the imperial traveller, tartly. "Noa," replied the ingenuous peasant, ignorant of the quality of his interrogator;--"noa; and I should very much like to know how to do it," changing the position of his burthen, and giving his load a surreptitious pinch of the ear, which immediately altered the tone and volume of his complaining. "Why, take the pig by the tail," said the emperor, "and you will see how quiet he will become." Struck by the novelty of the suggestion, the countryman at once dangled his noisy companion by the tail, and soon discovered that, under the partial congestion caused by its inverted position, the pig had indeed become silent; when, looking with admiration on his august adviser, he exclaimed,-- "Ah, you must have learned the trade much longer than I, for you understand it a great deal better." FRIED HAM AND EGGS (a Breakfast Dish). 813. INGREDIENTS.--Ham; eggs. _Mode_.--Cut the ham into slices, and take care that they are of the same thickness in every part. Cut off the rind, and if the ham should be particularly hard and salt, it will be found an improvement to soak it for about 10 minutes in hot water, and then dry it in a cloth. Put it into a cold frying-pan, set it over the fire, and turn the slices 3 or 4 times whilst they are cooking. When done, place them on a dish, which should be kept hot in front of the fire during the time the eggs are being poached. Poach the eggs, slip them on to the slices of ham, and serve quickly. _Time_.--7 or 8 minutes to broil the ham. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per lb. by the whole ham. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Ham may also be toasted or broiled; but, with the latter method, to insure its being well cooked, the fire must be beautifully clear, or it will have a smoky flavour far from agreeable. POTTED HAM, that will keep Good for some time. I. 814. INGREDIENTS.--To 4 lbs. of lean ham allow 1 lb. of fat, 2 teaspoonfuls of pounded mace, 1/2 nutmeg grated, rather more than 1/2 teaspoonful of cayenne, clarified lard. _Mode_.--Mince the ham, fat and lean together in the above proportion, and pound it well in a mortar, seasoning it with cayenne pepper, pounded mace, and nutmeg; put the mixture into a deep baking-dish, and bake for 1/2 hour; then press it well into a stone jar, fill up the jar with clarified lard, cover it closely, and paste over it a piece of thick paper. If well seasoned, it will keep a long time in winter, and will be found very convenient for sandwiches, &c. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. II. (_A nice addition to the Breakfast or Luncheon table_.) 815. INGREDIENTS.--To 2 lbs. of lean ham allow 1/2 lb. of fat, 1 teaspoonful of pounded mace, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded allspice, 1/2 nutmeg, pepper to taste, clarified butter. _Mode_.--Cut some slices from the remains of a cold ham, mince them small, and to every 2 lbs. of lean, allow the above proportion of fat. Pound the ham in a mortar to a fine paste, with the fat, gradually add the seasoning and spices, and be very particular that all the ingredients are well mixed and the spices well pounded. Press the mixture into potting-pots, pour over clarified butter, and keep it in a cool place. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. IMPORTANCE OF THE BOAR'S HEAD, SCOTTISH FEUDS, &c.--The boar's head, in ancient times, formed the most important dish on the table, and was invariably the first placed on the board upon Christmas-day, being preceded by a body of servitors, a flourish of trumpets, and other marks of distinction and reverence, and carried into the hall by the individual of next rank to the lord of the feast. At some of our colleges and inns of court, the serving of the boar's head on a silver platter on Christmas-day is a custom still followed; and till very lately, a bore's head was competed for at Christmas time by the young men of a rural parish in Essex. Indeed, so highly was the grizzly boar's head regarded in former times, that it passed into a cognizance of some of the noblest families in the realm: thus it was not only the crest of the Nevills and Warwicks, with their collateral houses, but it was the cognizance of Richard III., that-- "Wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough In your embowell'd bosoms,"-- and whose nature it was supposed to typify; and was universally used as a _sign_ to taverns. The Boar's Head in Eastcheap, which, till within the last twenty-five years still stood in all its primitive quaintness, though removed to make way for the London-bridge approaches, will live vividly in the mind of every reader of Shakspeare, as the resort of the prince of Wales, Poins, and his companions, and the residence of Falstaff and his coney-catching knaves, Bardolph, Pistol, and Nym; and whose sign was a boar's head, carved in stone over the door, and a smaller one in wood on each side of the doorway. The traditions and deeds of savage vengeance recorded in connection with this grim trophy of the chase are numerous in all parts of Europe. But the most remarkable connected with the subject in this country, were two events that occurred in Scotland, about the 11th and 15th centuries. A border family having been dispossessed of their castle and lands by a more powerful chief, were reduced for many years to great indigence, the expelled owner only living in the hope of wreaking a terrible vengeance, which, agreeably to the motto of his house, he was content to "bide his time" for. The usurper having invited a large number of his kindred to a grand hunt in his new domains, and a feast after in the great hall, returned from the chase, and discovering the feast not spread, vented his wrath in no measured terms on the heads of the tardy servitors. At length a menial approached, followed by a line of servants, and placing the boar's head on the table, the guests rushed forward to begin the meal; when, to their horror, they discovered, not a boar's but a bull's head,--a sign of death. The doors were immediately closed, and the false servants, who were the adherents of the dispossessed chief, threw off their disguise, and falling on the usurper and his friends, butchered them and every soul in the castle belonging to the rival faction. A tribe of caterans, or mountain robbers, in the Western Highlands, having been greatly persecuted by a powerful chief of the district, waylaid him and his retinue, put them all to the sword, and cutting off the chief's head, repaired to his castle, where they ordered the terrified wife to supply them with food and drink. To appease their savage humour, the lady gave order for their entertainment, and on returning to the hall to see her orders were complied with, discovered, in place of the boar's head that should have graced the board, her husband's bleeding head; the savage caterans, in rude derision, as a substitute for the apple or lemon usually placed between the jaws, having thrust a slice of bread in the dead man's mouth. FOR CURING HAMS (Mons. Ude's Recipe). 816. INGREDIENTS.--For 2 hams weighing about 16 or 18 lbs. each, allow 1 lb. of moist sugar, 1 lb. of common salt, 2 oz. of saltpetre, 1 quart of good vinegar. _Mode_.--As soon as the pig is cold enough to be cut up, take the 2 hams and rub them well with common salt, and leave them in a large pan for 3 days. When the salt has drawn out all the blood, drain the hams, and throw the brine away. Mix sugar, salt, and saltpetre together in the above proportion, rub the hams well with these, and put them into a vessel large enough to hold them, always keeping the salt over them. Let them remain for 3 days, then pour over them a quart of good vinegar. Turn them in the brine every day for a month, then drain them well, and rub them with bran. Have them smoked over a wood fire, and be particular that the hams are hung as high up as possible from the fire; otherwise the fat will melt, and they will become dry and hard. _Time_.--To be pickled 1 month; to be smoked 1 month. _Sufficient_ for 2 hams of 18 lbs. each. _Seasonable_ from October to March. THE PRICE OF A SOW IN AFRICA.--In one of the native states of Africa, a pig one day stole a piece of food from a child as it was in the act of conveying the morsel to its mouth; upon which the robbed child cried so loud that the mother rushed out of her hovel to ascertain the cause; and seeing the purloining pig make off munching his booty, the woman in her heat struck the grunter so smart a blow, that the surly rascal took it into his head to go home very much indisposed, and after a certain time resolved to die,--a resolution that he accordingly put into practice; upon which the owner instituted judicial proceedings before the Star Chamber court of his tribe, against the husband and family of the woman whose rash act had led to such results; and as the pig happened to be a _sow_, in the very flower of her age, the prospective loss to the owner in unnumbered teems of pigs, with the expenses attending so high a tribunal, swelled the damages and costs to such a sum, that it was found impossible to pay them. And as, in the barbarous justice existing among these rude people, every member of a family is equally liable as the individual who committed the wrong, the father, mother, children, relatives,--an entire community, to the number of _thirty-two souls_, were sold as slaves, and a fearful sum of human misery perpetrated, to pay the value of a thieving old sow. TO SALT TWO HAMS, about 12 or 15 lbs. each. 817. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of treacle, 1/2 lb. of saltpetre, 1 lb. of bay-salt, 2 pounds of common salt. _Mode_.--Two days before they are put into pickle, rub the hams well with salt, to draw away all slime and blood. Throw what comes from them away, and then rub them with treacle, saltpetre, and salt. Lay them in a deep pan, and let them remain one day; boil the above proportion of treacle, saltpetre, bay-salt, and common salt for 1/4 hour, and pour this pickle boiling hot over the hams: there should be sufficient of it to cover them. For a day or two rub them well with it; afterwards they will only require turning. They ought to remain in this pickle for 3 weeks or a month, and then be sent to be smoked, which will take nearly or quite a month to do. An ox-tongue pickled in this way is most excellent, to be eaten either green or smoked. _Time_.--To remain in the pickle 3 weeks or a month; to be smoked about a month. _Seasonable_ from October to March. TO CURE SWEET HAMS IN THE WESTMORELAND WAY. 818. INGREDIENTS.--3 lbs. of common salt, 3 lbs. of coarse sugar, 1 lb. of bay-salt, 3 quarts of strong beer. _Mode_.--Before the hams are put into pickle, rub them the preceding day well with salt, and drain the brine well from them. Put the above ingredients into a saucepan, and boil for 1/4 hour; pour over the hams, and let them remain a month in the pickle. Rub and turn them every day, but do not take them out of the pickling-pan; and have them smoked for a month. _Time_.--To be pickled 1 month; to be smoked 1 month. _Seasonable_ from October to March. TO PICKLE HAMS (Suffolk Recipe). 819. INGREDIENTS.--To a ham from 10 to 12 lbs., allow 1 lb. of coarse sugar, 3/4 lb. of salt, 1 oz. of saltpetre, 1/2 a teacupful of vinegar. _Mode_.--Rub the hams well with common salt, and leave them for a day or two to drain; then rub well in, the above proportion of sugar, salt, saltpetre, and vinegar, and turn them every other day. Keep them in the pickle 1 month, drain them, and send them to be smoked over a wood fire for 3 weeks or a month. _Time_.--To remain in the pickle 1 month. To be smoked 3 weeks or 1 month. _Sufficient_.--The above proportion of pickle sufficient for 1 ham. _Seasonable_.--Hams should be pickled from October to March. NOVEL WAY OF RECOVERING A STOLEN PIG.--It is a well-known fact, that in Ireland the pig is, in every respect, a domesticated animal, sharing often both the bed and board of the family, and making an outer ring to the domestic circle, as, seated round the pot of potatoes, they partake of the midday meal called dinner. An Irishman upon one occasion having lost an interesting member of his household, in the form of a promising young porker, consulted his priest on the occasion, and having hinted at the person he suspected of purloining the "illegant slip of a pig" he was advised to take no further notice of the matter, but leave the issue to his spiritual adviser. Next Sunday his reverence, after mass, came to the front of the altar-rails, and looking very hard at the supposed culprit, exclaimed, "Who stole Pat Doolan's pig?" To this inquiry there was of course no answer;--the priest did not expect there would be any. The following Sunday the same query was propounded a little stronger--"Who of you was it, I say, who stole poor Pat Doolan's pig?" It now became evident that the culprit was a hardened sinner; so on the third Sunday, instead of repeating the unsatisfactory inquiry, the priest, after, as usual, eyeing the obdurate offender, said, in a tone of pious sorrow, "Mike Regan, Mike Regan, you treat me with contempt!" That night, when the family was all asleep, the latch of the door was noiselessly lifted, and the "illegant slip of a pig" cautiously slipped into the cabin. TO SMOKE HAMS AND FISH AT HOME. 820. Take an old hogshead, stop up all the crevices, and fix a place to put a cross-stick near the bottom, to hang the articles to be smoked on. Next, in the side, cut a hole near the top, to introduce an iron pan filled with sawdust and small pieces of green wood. Having turned the tub upside down, hang the articles upon the cross-stick, introduce the iron pan in the opening, and place a piece of red-hot iron in the pan, cover it with sawdust, and all will be complete. Let a large ham remain 40 hours, and keep up a good smoke. TO CURE BACON OR HAMS IN THE DEVONSHIRE WAY. 821. INGREDIENTS.--To every 14 lbs. of meat, allow 2 oz. of saltpetre, 2 oz. of salt prunella, 1 lb. of common salt. For the pickle, 3 gallons of water, 5 lbs. of common salt, 7 lbs. of coarse sugar, 3 lbs. of bay-salt. _Mode_.--Weigh the sides, hams, and cheeks, and to every 14 lbs. allow the above proportion of saltpetre, salt prunella, and common salt. Pound and mix these together, and rub well into the meat; lay it in a stone trough or tub, rubbing it thoroughly, and turning it daily for 2 successive days. At the end of the second day, pour on it a pickle made as follows:--Put the above ingredients into a saucepan, set it on the fire, and stir frequently; remove all the scum, allow it to boil for 1/4 hour, and pour it hot over the meat. Let the hams, &c., be well rubbed and turned daily; if the meat is small, a fortnight will be sufficient for the sides and shoulders to remain in the pickle, and the hams 3 weeks; if from 30 lbs. and upwards, 3 weeks will be required for the sides, &c., and from 4 to 5 weeks for the hams. On taking the pieces out, let them drain for an hour, cover with dry sawdust, and smoke from a fortnight to 3 weeks. Boil and carefully skim the pickle after using, and it will keep good, closely corked, for 2 years. When boiling it for use, add about 2 lbs. of common salt, and the same of treacle, to allow for waste. Tongues are excellent put into this pickle cold, having been first rubbed well with saltpetre and salt, and allowed to remain 24 hours, not forgetting to make a deep incision under the thick part of the tongue, so as to allow the pickle to penetrate more readily. A fortnight or 3 weeks, according to the size of the tongue, will be sufficient. _Time_--Small meat to remain in the pickle a fortnight, hams 3 weeks; to be smoked from a fortnight to 3 weeks. The following is from Morton's "Cyclopaedia of Agriculture," and will be found fully worthy of the high character of that publication. CURING OF HAMS AND BACON. 822. The carcass of the hog, after hanging over-night to cool, is laid on a strong bench or stool, and the head is separated from the body at the neck, close behind the ears; the feet and also the internal fat are removed. The carcass is next divided into two sides in the following manner:--The ribs are divided about an inch from the spine on each side, and the spine, with the ends of the ribs attached, together with the internal flesh between it and the kidneys, and also the flesh above it, throughout the whole length of the sides, are removed. The portion of the carcass thus cut out is in the form of a wedge--the breadth of the interior consisting of the breadth of the spine, and about an inch of the ribs on each side, being diminished to about half an inch at the exterior or skin along the back. The breast-bone, and also the first anterior rib, are also dissected from the side. Sometimes the whole of the ribs are removed; but this, for reasons afterwards to be noticed, is a very bad practice. When the hams are cured separately from the sides, which is generally the case, they are cut out so as to include the hock-bone, in a similar manner to the London mode of cutting a haunch of mutton. The carcass of the hog thus cut up is ready for being salted, which process, in large caring establishments, is generally as follows. The skin side of the pork is rubbed over with a mixture of fifty parts by weight of salt, and one part of saltpetre in powder, and the incised parts of the ham or flitch, and the inside of the flitch covered with the same. The salted bacon, in pairs of flitches with the insides to each other, is piled one pair of flitches above another on benches slightly inclined, and furnished with spouts or troughs to convey the brine to receivers in the floor of the salting-house, to be afterwards used for pickling pork for navy purposes. In this state the bacon remains a fortnight, which is sufficient for flitches cut from nogs of a carcass weight less than 15 stone (14 lbs. to the stone). Flitches of a larger size, at the expiration of that time, are wiped dry and reversed in their place in the pile, having, at the same time, about half the first quantity of fresh, dry, common salt sprinkled over the inside and incised parts; after which they remain on the benches for another week. Hams being thicker than flitches, will require, when less than 20 lbs. weight, 3 weeks; and when above that weight, 4 weeks to remain under the above-described process. The next and last process in the preparation of bacon and hams, previous to being sent to market, is drying. This is effected by hanging the flitches and hams for 2 or 3 weeks in a room heated by stoves, or in a smoke-house, in which they are exposed for the same length of time to the smoke arising from the slow combustion of the sawdust of oak or other hard wood. The latter mode of completing the curing process has some advantages over the other, as by it the meat is subject to the action of _creosote_, a volatile oil produced by the combustion of the sawdust, which is powerfully antiseptic. The process also furnishing a thin covering of a resinous varnish, excludes the air not only from the muscle but also from the fat; thus effectually preventing the meat from becoming rusted; and the principal reasons for condemning the practice of removing the ribs from the flitches of pork are, that by so doing the meat becomes unpleasantly hard and pungent in the process of salting, and by being more opposed to the action of the air, becomes sooner and more extensively rusted. Notwithstanding its superior efficacy in completing the process of curing, the flavour which smoke-drying imparts to meat is disliked by many persons, and it is therefore by no means the most general mode of drying adopted by mercantile curers. A very impure variety of _pyroligneous_ acid, or vinegar made from the destructive distillation of wood, is sometimes used, on account of the highly preservative power of the creosote which it contains, and also to impart the smoke-flavour; in which latter object, however, the coarse flavour of tar is given, rather than that derived from the smoke from combustion of wood. A considerable portion of the bacon and hams salted in Ireland is exported from that country packed amongst salt, in bales, immediately from the salting process, without having been in any degree dried. In the process of salting above described, pork loses from eight to ten per cent. of its weight, according to the size and quality of the meat; and a further diminution of weight, to the extent of five to six per cent., takes place in drying during the first fortnight after being taken out of salt; so that the total loss in weight occasioned by the preparation of bacon and hams in a proper state for market, is not less on an average than fifteen per cent. on the weight of the fresh pork. COLLARED PIG'S FACE (a Breakfast or Luncheon Dish). 823. INGREDIENTS.--1 pig's face; salt. For brine, 1 gallon of spring water, 1 lb. of common salt, 1/2 handful of chopped juniper-berries, 6 bruised cloves, 2 bay-leaves, a few sprigs of thyme, basil, sage, 1/4 oz. of saltpetre. For forcemeat, 1/2 lb. of ham, 1/2 lb. bacon, 1 teaspoonful of mixed spices, pepper to taste, 1/4 lb. of lard, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, 6 young onions. [Illustration: PIG'S FACE.] _Mode_.--Singe the head carefully, bone it without breaking the skin, and rub it well with salt. Make the brine by boiling the above ingredients for 1/4 hour, and letting it stand to cool. When cold, pour it over the head, and let it steep in this for 10 days, turning and rubbing it often. Then wipe, drain, and dry it. For the forcemeat, pound the ham and bacon very finely, and mix with these the remaining ingredients, taking care that the whole is thoroughly incorporated. Spread this equally over the head, roll it tightly in a cloth, and bind it securely with broad tape. Put it into a saucepan with a few meat trimmings, and cover it with stock; let it simmer gently for 4 hours, and be particular that it does not stop boiling the whole time. When quite tender, take it up, put it between 2 dishes with a heavy weight on the top, and when cold, remove the cloth and tape. It should be sent to table on a napkin, or garnished with a piece of deep white paper with a ruche at the top. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, from 2s. to 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ from October to March. THE WILD AND DOMESTIC HOG.--The domestic hog is the descendant of a race long since banished from this island; and it is remarkable, that while the tamed animal has been and is kept under surveillance, the wild type whence this race sprung, has maintained itself in its ancient freedom, the fierce denizen of the forest, and one of the renowned beasts of the chase. Whatever doubt may exist as to the true origin of the dog, the horse, the ox, and others, or as to whether their original race is yet extant or not, these doubts do not apply to the domestic hog. Its wild source still exists, and is universally recognized: like the wolf, however, it has been expelled from our island; but, like that animal, it still roams through the vast wooded tracts of Europe and Asia. TO DRESS PIG'S FRY (a Savoury Dish). 824. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of pig's fry, 2 onions, a few sage-leaves, 3 lbs. of potatoes, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Put the lean fry at the bottom of a pie-dish, sprinkle over it some minced sage and onion, and a seasoning of pepper and salt; slice the potatoes; put a layer of these on the seasoning, then the fat fry, then more seasoning, and a layer of potatoes at the top. Fill the dish with boiling water, and bake for 2 hours, or rather longer. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to March. TO MELT LARD. 825. Melt the inner fat of the pig, by putting it in a stone jar, and placing this in a saucepan of boiling water, previously stripping off the skin. Let it simmer gently over a bright fire, and as it melts, pour it carefully from the sediment. Put it into small jars or bladders for use, and keep it in a cool place. The flead or inside fat of the pig, before it is melted, makes exceedingly light crust, and is particularly wholesome. It may be preserved a length of time by salting it well, and occasionally changing the brine. When wanted for use, wash and wipe it, and it will answer for making into paste as well as fresh lard. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. BOILED LEG OF PORK. 826. INGREDIENTS.--Leg of pork; salt. _Mode_.--For boiling, choose a small, compact, well-filled leg, and rub it well with salt; let it remain in pickle for a week or ten days, turning and rubbing it every day. An hour before dressing it, put it into cold water for an hour, which improves the colour. If the pork is purchased ready salted, ascertain how long the meat has been in pickle, and soak it accordingly. Put it into a boiling-pot, with sufficient cold water to cover it; let it gradually come to a boil, and remove the scum as it rises. Simmer it very gently until tender, and do not allow it to boil fast, or the knuckle will fall to pieces before the middle of the leg is done. Carrots, turnips, or parsnips may be boiled with the pork, some of which should be laid round the dish as a garnish, and a well-made pease-pudding is an indispensable accompaniment. _Time_.--A leg of pork weighing 8 lbs., 3 hours after the water boils, and to be simmered very gently. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Note_.--The liquor in which a leg of pork has been boiled, makes excellent pea-soup. ANTIQUITY OF THE HOG.--The hog has survived changes which have swept multitudes of pachydermatous animals from the surface of our earth. It still presents the same characteristics, both physical and moral, which the earliest writers, whether sacred or profane, have faithfully delineated. Although the domestic has been more or less modified by long culture, yet the wild species remains unaltered, insomuch that the fossil relics may be identified with the bones of their existing descendants. ROAST GRISKIN OF PORK. 827. INGREDIENTS.--Pork; a little powdered sage. [Illustration: SPARE-RIB OF PORK.] [Illustration: GRISKIN OF PORK.] _Mode_.--As this joint frequently comes to table hard and dry, particular care should be taken that it is well basted. Put it down to a bright fire, and flour it. About 10 minutes before taking it up, sprinkle over some powdered sage; make a little gravy in the dripping-pan, strain it over the meat, and serve with a tureen of apple sauce. This joint will be done in far less time than when the skin is left on, consequently, should have the greatest attention that it be not dried up. _Time_.--Griskin of pork weighing 6 lbs., 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. _Note_.--A spare-rib of pork is roasted in the same manner as above, and would take 1-1/2 hour for one weighing about 6 lbs. [Illustration: BACON FOR LARDING, AND LARDING-NEEDLE.] LARDING. 828. INGREDIENTS.--Bacon and larding-needle. _Mode_.--Bacon for larding should be firm and fat, and ought to be cured without any saltpetre, as this reddens white meats. Lay it on a table, the rinds downwards; trim off any rusty part, and cut it into slices of an equal thickness. Place the slices one on the top of another, and cut them evenly into narrow strips, so arranging it that every piece of bacon is of the same size. Bacon for fricandeau, poultry, and game, should be about 2 inches in length, and rather more than one-eighth of an inch in width. If for larding fillets of beef or loin of veal, the pieces of bacon must be thicker. The following recipe of Soyer is, we think, very explicit; and any cook, by following the directions here given, may be able to lard, if not well, sufficiently for general use. "Have the fricandeau trimmed, lay it, lengthwise, upon a clean napkin across your hand, forming a kind of bridge with your thumb at the part you are about to commence at; then with the point of the larding-needle make three distinct lines across, 1/2 inch apart; run the needle into the third line, at the further side of the fricandeau, and bring it out at the first, placing one of the lardoons in it; draw the needle through, leaving out 1/4 inch of the bacon at each line; proceed thus to the end of the row; then make another line, 1/2 inch distant, stick in another row of lardoons, bringing them out at the second line, leaving the ends of the bacon out all the same length; make the next row again at the same distance, bringing the ends out between the lardoons of the first row, proceeding in this manner until the whole surface is larded in chequered rows. Everything else is larded in a similar way; and, in the case of poultry, hold the breast over a charcoal fire for one minute, or dip it into boiling water, in order to make the flesh firm." ROAST LOIN OF PORK. 829. INGREDIENTS.--Pork; a little salt. [Illustration: FORE LOIN OF PORK.] [Illustration: HIND LOIN OF PORK.] _Mode_.--Score the skin in strips rather more than 1/4 inch apart, and place the joint at a good distance from the fire, on account of the crackling, which would harden before the meat would be heated through, were it placed too near. If very lean, it should be rubbed over with a little salad oil, and kept well basted all the time it is at the fire. Pork should be very thoroughly cooked, but not dry; and be careful never to send it to table the least underdone, as nothing is more unwholesome and disagreeable than underdressed white meats. Serve with apple sauce, No. 363, and a little gravy made in the dripping-pan. A stuffing of sage and onion may be made separately, and baked in a flat dish: this method is better than putting it in the meat, as many persons have so great an objection to the flavour. _Time_.--A loin of pork weighing 5 lbs., about 2 hours: allow more time should it be very fat. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. FOSSIL REMAINS OF THE HOG.--In British strata, the oldest fossil remains of the hog which Professor Owen states that he has examined, were from fissures in the red crag (probably miocene) of Newbourne, near Woodbridge, Suffolk. "They were associated with teeth of an extinct _felis_ about the size of a leopard, with those of a bear, and with remains of a large cervus. These mammalian remains were found with the ordinary fossils of the red crag: they had undergone the same process of trituration, and were impregnated with the same colouring matter as the associated bones and teeth of fishes acknowledged to be derived from the regular strata of the red crag. These mammaliferous beds have been proved by Mr. Lyell to be older than the fluvio-marine, or Norwich crag, in which remains of the mastodon, rhinoceros, and horse have been discovered; and still older than the fresh-water pleistocene deposits, from which the remains of the mammoth, rhinoceros, &c. are obtained in such abundance. I have met," says the professor, in addition, "with some satisfactory instances of the association of fossil remains of a species of hog with those of the mammoth, in the newer pliocene freshwater formations of England." TO DRY PIGS' CHEEKS. 830. INGREDIENTS.--Salt, 4 oz. of saltpetre, 2 oz. of bay-salt, 4 oz. of coarse sugar. _Mode_.--Cut out the snout, remove the brains, and split the head, taking off the upper bone to make the jowl a good shape; rub it well with salt; next day take away the brine, and salt it again the following day; cover the head with saltpetre, bay-salt, and coarse sugar, in the above proportion, adding a little common salt. Let the head be often turned, and when it has been in the pickle for 10 days, smoke it for a week or rather longer. _Time_.--To remain in the pickle 10 days; to be smoked 1 week. _Seasonable_.--Should be made from September to March. _Note_.--A pig's check, or Bath chap, will take about 2 hours after the water boils. PIG'S LIVER (a Savoury and Economical Dish). 831. INGREDIENTS.--The liver and lights of a pig, 6 or 7 slices of bacon, potatoes, 1 large bunch of parsley, 2 onions, 2 sage-leaves, pepper and salt to taste, a little broth or water. _Mode_.--Slice the liver and lights, and wash these perfectly clean, and parboil the potatoes; mince the parsley and sage, and chop the onion rather small. Put the meat, potatoes, and bacon into a deep tin dish, in alternate layers, with a sprinkling of the herbs, and a seasoning of pepper and salt between each; pour on a little water or broth, and bake in a moderately-heated oven for 2 hours. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. PIG'S PETTITOES. 832. INGREDIENTS.--A thin slice of bacon, 1 onion, 1 blade of mace, 6 peppercorns, 3 or 4 sprigs of thyme, 1 pint of gravy, pepper and salt to taste, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Put the liver, heart, and pettitoes into a stewpan with the bacon, mace, peppercorns, thyme, onion, and gravy, and simmer these gently for 1/4 hour; then take out the heart and liver, and mince them very fine. Keep stewing the feet until quite tender, which will be in from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour, reckoning from the time that they boiled up first; then put back the minced liver, thicken the gravy with a little butter and flour, season with pepper and salt, and simmer over a gentle fire for 5 minutes, occasionally stirring the contents. Dish the mince, split the feet, and arrange them round alternately with sippets of toasted bread, and pour the gravy in the middle. _Time_.--Altogether 40 minutes. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. TO PICKLE PORK. 833. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of saltpetre; salt. _Mode_.--As pork does not keep long without being salted, cut it into pieces of a suitable size as soon as the pig is cold. Rub the pieces of pork well with salt, and put them into a pan with a sprinkling of it between each piece: as it melts on the top, strew on more. Lay a coarse cloth over the pan, a board over that, and a weight on the board, to keep the pork down in the brine. If excluded from the air, it will continue good for nearly 2 years. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. for the prime parts. _Seasonable_.--The best time for pickling meat is late in the autumn. THE UNIVERSALITY OF THE HOG.--A singular circumstance in the domestic history of the hog, is the extent of its distribution over the surface of the earth; being found even in insulated places, where the inhabitants are semi-barbarous, and where the wild species is entirely unknown. The South-Sea islands, for example, were found on their discovery to be well stocked with a small black hog; and the traditionary belief of the people was that these animals were coeval with the origin of themselves. Yet they possessed no knowledge of the wild boar, or any other animal of the hog kind, from which the domestic breed might be supposed to be derived. In these islands the hog is the principal quadruped, and the fruit of the bread-tree is its principal food, although it is also fed with yams, eddoes, and other vegetables. This nutritious diet, which it has in great abundance, is, according to Foster, the reason of its flesh being so delicious, so full of juice, and so rich in fat, which is not less delicate to the taste than the finest butter. TO BOIL PICKLED PORK. 834. INGREDIENTS.--Pork; water. _Mode_.--Should the pork be very salt, let it remain in water about 2 hours before it is dressed; put it into a saucepan with sufficient cold water to cover it, let it gradually come to a boil, then gently simmer until quite tender. Allow ample time for it to cook, as nothing is more disagreeable than underdone pork, and when boiled fast, the meat becomes hard. This is sometimes served with boiled poultry and roast veal, instead of bacon: when tender, and not over salt, it will be found equally good. _Time_.--A piece of pickled pork weighing 2 lbs., 1-1/4 hour; 4 lbs., rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. for the primest parts. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE ANTIQUITY OF THE HOG.--By what nation and in what period the hog was reclaimed, is involved in the deepest obscurity. So far back as we have any records of history, we find notices of this animal, and of its flesh being used as the food of man. By some nations, however, its flesh was denounced as unclean, and therefore prohibited to be used, whilst by others it was esteemed as a great delicacy. By the Mosaic law it was forbidden to be eaten by the Jews, and the Mahometans hold it in utter abhorrence. Dr. Kitto, however, says that there does not appear to be any reason in the law of Moses why the hog should be held in such peculiar abomination. There seems nothing to have prevented the Jews, if they had been so inclined, to rear pigs for sale, or for the use of the land. In the Talmud there are some indications that this was actually done; and it was, probably, for such purposes that the herds of swine mentioned in the New Testament were kept, although it is usual to consider that they were kept by the foreign settlers in the land. Indeed, the story which accounts for the peculiar aversion of the Hebrews to the hog, assumes that it did not originate until about 130 years before Christ, and that, previously, some Jews were in the habit of rearing hogs for the purposes indicated. PORK PIES (Warwickshire Recipe). 835. INGREDIENTS.--For the crust, 5 lbs. of lard to 14 lbs. of flour, milk, and water. For filling the pies, to every 3 lbs. of meat allow 1 oz. of salt, 2-1/4 oz. of pepper, a small quantity of cayenne, 1 pint of water. _Mode_.--Rub into the flour a portion of the lard; the remainder put with sufficient milk and water to mix the crust, and boil this gently for 1/4 hour. Pour it boiling on the flour, and knead and beat it till perfectly smooth. Now raise the crust in either a round or oval form, cut up the pork into pieces the size of a nut, season it in the above proportion, and press it compactly into the pie, in alternate layers of fat and lean, and pour in a small quantity of water; lay on the lid, cut the edges smoothly round, and pinch them together. Bake in a brick oven, which should be slow, as the meat is very solid. Very frequently, the inexperienced cook finds much difficulty in raising the crust. She should bear in mind that it must not be allowed to get cold, or it will fall immediately: to prevent this, the operation should be performed as near the fire as possible. As considerable dexterity and expertness are necessary to raise the crust with the hand only, a glass bottle or small jar may be placed in the middle of the paste, and the crust moulded on this; but be particular that it is kept warm the whole time. _Sufficient_.--The proportions for 1 pie are 1 lb. of flour and 3 lbs. of meat. _Seasonable_ from September to March. THE FLESH OF SWINE IN HOT CLIMATES.--It is observed by M. Sonini, that the flesh of swine, in hot climates, is considered unwholesome, and therefore may account for its proscription by the legislators and priests of the East. In Egypt, Syria, and even the southern parts of Greece, although both white and delicate, it is so flabby and surcharged with fat, that it disagrees with the strongest stomachs. Abstinence from it in general was, therefore, indispensable to health under the burning suns of Egypt and Arabia. The Egyptians were permitted to eat it only once a year,--on the feast of the moon; and then they sacrificed a number of these animals to that planet. At other seasons, should any one even touch a hog, he was obliged immediately to plunge into the river Nile, as he stood, with his clothes on, in order to purify himself from the supposed contamination he had contracted by the touch. LITTLE RAISED PORK PIES. 836. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of flour, 1/2 lb. of butter, 1/2 lb. of mutton suet, salt and white pepper to taste, 4 lbs. of the neck of pork, 1 dessertspoonful of powdered sage. _Mode_.--Well dry the flour, mince the suet, and put these with the butter into a saucepan, to be made hot, and add a little salt. When melted, mix it up into a stiff paste, and put it before the fire with a cloth over it until ready to make up; chop the pork into small pieces, season it with white pepper, salt, and powdered sage; divide the paste into rather small pieces, raise it in a round or oval form, fill with the meat, and bake in a brick oven. These pies will require a fiercer oven than those in the preceding recipe, as they are made so much smaller, and consequently do not require so soaking a heat. _Time_.--If made small, about 1-1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ from September to March. SWINEHERDS OF ANTIQUITY.--From the prejudice against the hog among the ancients, those who tended them formed an isolated class, and were esteemed as the outcasts of society. However much the flesh of the animal was esteemed by the Greeks and Romans, yet the swineherd is not mentioned by either the classic writers or the poets who, in ancient Greece and Rome, painted rural life. We have no descriptions of gods or heroes descending to the occupation of keeping swine. The swineherd is never introduced into the idyls of Theocritus, nor has Virgil admitted him into his eclogues. The Eumaeus of Homer is the only exception that we have of a swineherd meeting with favour in the eyes of a poet of antiquity. This may be accounted for, on the supposition that the prejudices of the Egyptians relative to this class of men, extended to both Greece and Italy, and imparted a bias to popular opinion. TO MAKE SAUSAGES. (_Author's Oxford Recipe_.) 837. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of pork, fat and lean, without skin or gristle; 1 lb. of lean veal, 1 lb. of beef suet, 1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 1 small nutmeg, 6 sage-leaves, 1 teaspoonful of pepper, 2 teaspoonfuls of salt, 1/2 teaspoonful of savory, 1/2 teaspoonful of marjoram. _Mode_.--Chop the pork, veal, and suet finely together, add the bread crumbs, lemon-peel (which should be well minced), and a small nutmeg grated. Wash and chop the sage-leaves very finely; add these with the remaining ingredients to the sausage-meat, and when thoroughly mixed, either put the meat into skins, or, when wanted for table, form it into little cakes, which should be floured and fried. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for about 30 moderate-sized sausages. _Seasonable_ from October to March. THE HOG IN ENGLAND.--From time immemorial, in England, this animal has been esteemed as of the highest importance. In the Anglo-Saxon period, vast herds of swine were tended by men, who watched over their safety, and who collected them under shelter at night. At that time, the flesh of the animal was the staple article of consumption in every family, and a large portion of the wealth of the rich freemen of the country consisted of these animals. Hence it was common to make bequests of swine, with lands for their support; and to these were attached rights and privileges in connection with their feeding, and the extent of woodland to be occupied by a given number was granted in accordance with established rules. This is proved by an ancient Saxon grant, quoted by Sharon Turner, in his "History of the Anglo-Saxons," where the right of pasturage is conveyed in a deed by the following words:--"I give food for seventy swine in that woody allotment which the countrymen call Wolferdinlegh." FRIED SAUSAGES. [Illustration: FRIED SAUSAGES.] 838. INGREDIENTS.--Sausages; a small piece of butter. _Mode_.--Prick the sausages with a fork (this prevents them from bursting), and put them into a frying-pan with a small piece of butter. Keep moving the pan about, and turn the sausages 3 or 4 times. In from 10 to 12 minutes they will be sufficiently cooked, unless they are _very large_, when a little more time should be allowed for them. Dish them with or without a piece of toast under them, and serve very hot. In some counties, sausages are boiled and served on toast. They should be plunged into boiling water, and simmered for about 10 or 12 minutes. _Time_.--10 to 12 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Seasonable_.--Good from September to March. _Note_.--Sometimes, in close warm weather, sausages very soon turn sour; to prevent this, put them in the oven for a few minutes with a small piece of butter to keep them moist. When wanted for table, they will not require so long frying as uncooked sausages. THE SAXON SWINEHERD.--The men employed in herding swine during the Anglo-Saxon period of our history were, in general, thralls or born slaves of the soil, who were assisted by powerful dogs, capable even of singly contending with the wolf until his master came with his spear to the rescue. In the "Ivanhoe" of Sir Walter Scott, we have an admirable picture, in the character of Gurth, an Anglo-Saxon swineherd, as we also have of his master, a large landed proprietor, a great portion of whose wealth consisted of swine, and whose rude but plentiful board was liberally supplied with the flesh. SAUSAGE-MEAT CAKES. 839. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of lean pork, add 3/4 lb. of fat bacon, 1/4 oz. of salt, 1 saltspoonful of pepper, 1/4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley. _Mode_.--Remove from the pork all skin, gristle, and bone, and chop it finely with the bacon; add the remaining ingredients, and carefully mix altogether. Pound it well in a mortar, make it into convenient-sized cakes, flour these, and fry them a nice brown for about 10 minutes. This is a very simple method of making sausage-meat, and on trial will prove very good, its great recommendation being, that it is so easily made. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Seasonable_ from September to March. TO SCALD A SUCKING-PIG. 840. Put the pig into cold water directly it is killed; let it remain for a few minutes, then immerse it in a large pan of boiling water for 2 minutes. Take it out, lay it on a table, and pull off the hair as quickly as possible. When the skin looks clean, make a slit down the belly, take out the entrails, well clean the nostrils and ears, wash the pig in cold water, and wipe it thoroughly dry. Take off the feet at the first joint, and loosen and leave sufficient skin to turn neatly over. If not to be dressed immediately, fold it in a wet cloth to keep it from the air. THE LEARNED PIG.--That the pig is capable of education, is a fact long known to the world; and though, like the ass, naturally stubborn and obstinate, that he is equally amenable with other animals to caresses and kindness, has been shown from very remote time; the best modern evidence of his docility, however, is the instance of the learned pig, first exhibited about a century since, but which has been continued down to our own time by repeated instances of an animal who will put together all the letters or figures that compose the day, month, hour, and date of the exhibition, besides many other unquestioned evidences of memory. The instance already given of breaking a sow into a pointer, till she became more stanch even than the dog itself, though surprising, is far less wonderful than that evidence of education where so generally obtuse an animal may be taught not only to spell, but couple figures and give dates correctly. ROAST SUCKING-PIG. 841. INGREDIENTS.--Pig, 6 oz. of bread crumbs, 16 sage-leaves, pepper and salt to taste, a piece of butter the size of an egg, salad oil or butter to baste with, about 1/2 pint of gravy, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. [Illustration: ROAST SUCKING-PIG.] _Mode_.--A sucking-pig, to be eaten in perfection, should not be more than three weeks old, and should be dressed the same day that it is killed. After preparing the pig for cooking, as in the preceding recipe, stuff it with finely-grated bread crumbs, minced sage, pepper, salt, and a piece of butter the size of an egg, all of which should be well mixed together, and put into the body of the pig. Sew up the slit neatly, and truss the legs back, to allow the inside to be roasted, and the under part to be crisp. Put the pig down to a bright clear fire, not too near, and let it lay till thoroughly dry; then have ready some butter tied up in a piece of thin cloth, and rub the pig with this in every part. Keep it well rubbed with the butter the whole of the time it is roasting, and do not allow the crackling to become blistered or burnt. When half-done, hang a pig-iron before the middle part (if this is not obtainable, use a flat iron), to prevent its being scorched and dried up before the ends are done. Before it is taken from the fire, cut off the head, and part that and the body down the middle. Chop the brains and mix them with the stuffing; add 1/2 pint of good gravy, a tablespoonful of lemon-juice, and the gravy that flowed from the pig; put a little of this on the dish with the pig, and the remainder send to table in a tureen. Place the pig back to back in the dish, with one half of the head on each side, and one of the ears at each end, and send it to table as hot as possible. Instead of butter, many cooks take salad oil for basting, which makes the crackling crisp; and as this is one of the principal things to be considered, perhaps it is desirable to use it; but be particular that it is very pure, or it will impart an unpleasant flavour to the meat. The brains and stuffing may be stirred into a tureen of melted butter instead of gravy, when the latter is not liked. Apple sauce and the old-fashioned currant sauce are not yet quite obsolete as an accompaniment to roast pig. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours for a small pig. _Average cost_, 5s. to 6s. _Sufficient_ for 9 or 10 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. HOW ROAST PIG WAS DISCOVERED.--Charles Lamb, who, in the early part of this century, delighted the reading public by his quaint prose sketches, written under the title of "Essays of Elia," has, in his own quiet humorous way, devoted one paper to the subject of _Roast Pig_, and more especially to that luxurious and toothsome dainty known as "CRACKLING;" and shows, in a manner peculiarly his own, _how crackling first came into the world._ According to this erudite authority, man in the golden age, or at all events the primitive age, eat his pork and bacon raw, as, indeed, he did his beef and mutton; unless, as Hudibras tells us, he was an epicure, when he used to make a saddle of his saddle of mutton, and after spreading it on his horse's back, and riding on it for a few hours till thoroughly warmed, he sat down to the luxury of a dish cooked to a turn. At the epoch of the story, however, a citizen of some Scythian community had the misfortune to have his hut, or that portion of it containing his live stock of pigs, burnt down. In going over the _débris_ on the following day, and picking out all the available salvage, the proprietor touched something unusually or unexpectedly hot, which caused him to shake his hand with great energy, and clap the tips of his suffering fingers to his mouth. The act was simple and natural, but the result was wonderful. He rolled his eyes in ecstatic pleasure, his frame distended, and, conscious of a celestial odour, his nostrils widened, and, while drawing in deep inspirations of the ravishing perfume, he sucked his fingers with a gusto he had never, in his most hungry moments, conceived. Clearing away the rubbish from beneath him, he at last brought to view the carcase of one of his pigs, _roasted to death_. Stooping down to examine this curious object, and touching its body, a fragment of the burnt skin was detached, which, with a sort of superstitious dread, he at length, and in a spirit of philosophical inquiry, put into his mouth. Ye gods! the felicity he then enjoyed, no pen can chronicle! Then it was that he--the world--first tasted _crackling_. Like a miser with his gold, the Scythian hid his treasure from the prying eyes of the world, and feasted, in secret, more sumptuously than the gods. When he had eaten up all his pig, the poor man fell into a melancholy; he refused the most tempting steak, though cooked on the horse's back, and turned every half-hour after his own favourite recipe; he fell, in fact, from his appetite, and was reduced to a shadow, till, unable longer to endure the torments of memory he hourly suffered, he rose one night and secretly set fire to his hut, and once more was restored to flesh and manhood. Finding it impossible to live in future without roast-pig, he set fire to his house every time his larder became empty; till at last his neighbours, scandalized by the frequency of these incendiary acts, brought his conduct before the supreme council of the nation. To avert the penalty that awaited him, he brought his judges to the smouldering ruins, and discovering the secret, invited them to eat; which having done, with tears of gratitude, the august synod embraced him, and, with an overflowing feeling of ecstasy, dedicated a statue to the memory of the man who first _instituted roast pork_. PORK CARVING. SUCKING-PIG. [Illustration: SUCKING-PIG.] 842. A sucking-pig seems, at first sight, rather an elaborate dish, or rather animal, to carve; but by carefully mastering the details of the business, every difficulty will vanish; and if a partial failure be at first made, yet all embarrassment will quickly disappear on a second trial. A sucking-pig is usually sent to table in the manner shown in the engraving (and also in coloured plate S), and the first point to be attended to is to separate the shoulder from the carcase, by carrying the knife quickly and neatly round the circular line, as shown by the figures 1, 2, 3;--the shoulder will then easily come away. The next step is to take off the leg; and this is done in the same way, by cutting round this joint in the direction shown by the figures 1, 2, 3, in the same way as the shoulder. The ribs then stand fairly open to the knife, which should be carried down in the direction of the line 4 to 5; and two or three helpings will dispose of these. The other half of the pig is served, of course, in the same manner. Different parts of the pig are variously esteemed; some preferring the flesh of the neck; others, the ribs; and others, again, the shoulders. The truth is, the whole of a sucking-pig is delicious, delicate eating; but, in carving it, the host should consult the various tastes and fancies of his guests, keeping the larger joints, generally, for the gentlemen of the party. HAM. [Illustration: HAM.] 843. In cutting a ham, the carver must be guided according as he desires to practise economy, or have, at once, fine slices out of the prime part. Under the first supposition, he will commence at the knuckle end, and cut off thin slices towards the thick part of the ham. To reach the choicer portion, the knife, which must be very sharp and thin, should be carried quite down to the bone, in the direction of the line 1 to 2. The slices should be thin and even, and always cut down to the bone. There are some who like to carve a ham by cutting a hole at the top, and then slicing pieces off inside the hole, gradually enlarging the circle; but we think this a plan not to be recommended. A ham, when hot, is usually sent to table with a paper ruffle round the knuckle; when cold, it is served in the manner shown by coloured plate P. LEG OF PORK. [Illustration: LEG OF PORK.] 844. This joint, which is such a favourite one with many people, is easy to carve. The knife should be carried sharply down to the bone, clean through the crackling, in the direction of the line 1 to 2. Sago and onion and apple sauce are usually sent to table with this dish,--sometimes the leg of pork is stuffed,--and the guests should be asked if they will have either or both. A frequent plan, and we think a good one, is now pursued, of sending sage and onion to table separately from the joint, as it is not everybody to whom the flavour of this stuffing is agreeable. _Note_.--The other dishes of pork do not call for any special remarks as to their carving or helping. CHAPTER XVIII. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE CALF. 845. ANY REMARKS MADE ON THE CALF OR THE LAMB must naturally be in a measure supplementary to the more copious observations made on the parent stock of either. As the calf, at least as far as it is identified with veal, is destined to die young,--to be, indeed, cut off in its comparative infancy,--it may, at first sight, appear of little or no consequence to inquire to what particular variety, or breed of the general stock, his sire or dam may belong. The great art, however, in the modern science of husbandry has been to obtain an animal that shall not only have the utmost beauty of form of which the species is capable, but, at the same time, a constitution free from all taint, a frame that shall rapidly attain bulk and stature, and a disposition so kindly that every _quantum_ of food it takes shall, without drawback or procrastination, be eliminated into fat and muscle. The breed, then, is of very considerable consequence in determining, not only the quality of the meat to the consumer, but its commercial value to the breeder and butcher. 846. UNDER THE ARTIFICIAL SYSTEM adopted in the rearing of domestic cattle, and stock in general, to gratify the arbitrary mandates of luxury and fashion, we can have veal, like lamb, at all seasons in the market, though the usual time in the metropolis for veal to make its appearance is about the beginning of February. 847. THE COW GOES WITH YOUNG FOR NINE MONTHS, and the affection and solicitude she evinces for her offspring is more human in its tenderness mid intensity than is displayed by any other animal; and her distress when she hears its bleating, and is not allowed to reach it with her distended udders, is often painful to witness, and when the calf has died, or been accidentally killed, her grief frequently makes her refuse to give down her milk. At such times, the breeder has adopted the expedient of flaying the dead carcase, and, distending the skin with hay, lays the effigy before her, and then taking advantage of her solicitude, milks her while she is caressing the skin with her tongue. 848. IN A STATE OF NATURE, the cow, like the deer, hides her young in the tall ferns and brakes, and the most secret places; and only at stated times, twice or thrice a day, quits the herd, and, hastening to the secret cover, gives suck to her calf, and with the same, circumspection returns to the community. 849. IN SOME COUNTRIES, to please the epicurean taste of vitiated appetites, it is the custom to kill the calf for food almost immediately after birth, and any accident that forestalls that event, is considered to enhance its value. We are happy to say, however, that in this country, as far as England and Scotland are concerned, the taste for very young veal has entirely gone out, and "Staggering Bob," as the poor little animal was called in the language of the shambles, is no longer to be met with in such a place. 850. THE WEANING OF CALVES is a process that requires a great amount of care and judgment; for though they are in reality not weaned till between the eighth and the twelfth week, the process of rearing them by hand commences in fact from the birth, the calf never being allowed to suck its dam. As the rearing of calves for the market is a very important and lucrative business, the breeder generally arranges his stock so that ten or a dozen of his cows shall calve about the same time; and then, by setting aside one or two, to find food for the entire family, gets the remaining eight or ten with their full fountains of milk, to carry on the operations of his dairy. Some people have an idea that skimmed milk, if given in sufficient quantity, is good enough for the weaning period of calf-feeding; but this is a very serious mistake, for the cream, of which it has been deprived, contained nearly all the oleaginous principles, and the azote or nitrogen, on which the vivifying properties of that fluid depends. Indeed, so remarkably correct has this fact proved to be, that a calf reared on one part of new milk mixed with five of water, will thrive and look well; while another, treated with unlimited skimmed milk, will be poor, thin, and miserable. 851. IT IS SOMETIMES A MATTER OF CONSIDERABLE TROUBLE to induce the blundering calf--whose instinct only teaches him to suck, and that he will do at anything and with anything--acquire the knowledge of imbibition, that for the first few days it is often necessary to fill a bottle with milk, and, opening his mouth, pour the contents down his throat. The manner, however, by which he is finally educated into the mystery of suction, is by putting his allowance of milk into a large wooden bowl; the nurse then puts her hand into the milk, and, by bending her fingers upwards, makes a rude teat for the calf to grasp in his lips, when the vacuum caused by his suction of the fingers, causes the milk to rise along them into his mouth. In this manner one by one the whole family are to be fed three times a day; care being taken, that new-born calves are not, at first, fed on milk from a cow who has some days calved. 852. AS THE CALF PROGRESSES TOWARDS HIS TENTH WEEK, his diet requires to be increased in quantity and quality; for these objects, his milk can be thickened with flour or meal, and small pieces of softened oil-cake are to be slipped into his mouth after sucking, that they may dissolve there, till he grows familiar with, and to like the taste, when it may be softened and scraped down into his milk-and-water. After a time, sliced turnips softened by steam are to be given to him in tolerable quantities; then succulent grasses; and finally, hay may be added to the others. Some farmers, desirous of rendering their calves fat for the butcher in as short a time as possible, forget both the natural weakness of the digestive powers, and the contracted volume of the stomach, and allow the animals either to suck _ad libitum_, or give them, if brought up at the pail or by hand, a larger quantity of milk than they can digest. The idea of overloading the stomach never suggests itself to their minds. They suppose that the more food the young creature consumes, the sooner it will be fat, and they allow it no exercise whatever, for fear it should denude its very bones of their flesh. Under such circumstances, the stomach soon becomes deranged; its functions are no longer capable of acting; the milk, subjected to the acid of the stomach, coagulates, and forms a hardened mass of curd, when the muscles become affected with spasms, and death frequently ensues. 853. THERE WAS NO SPECIES OF SLAUGHTERING practised in this country so inhuman and disgraceful as that, till very lately, employed in killing this poor animal; when, under the plea of making the flesh _white_, the calf was bled day by day, till, when the final hour came, the animal was unable to stand. This inhumanity is, we believe, now everywhere abolished, and the calf is at once killed, and with the least amount of pain; a sharp-pointed knife is run through the neck, severing all the large veins and arteries up to the vertebrae. The skin is then taken off to the knee, which is disjointed, and to the head, which is removed; it is then reflected backwards, and the carcase having been opened and dressed, is kept apart by stretchers, and the thin membrane, the caul, extended over the organs left in the carcase, as the kidneys and sweet-bread; some melted fat is then scattered suddenly over the whole interior, giving that white and frosted appearance to the meat, that is thought to add to its beauty; the whole is then hung up to cool and harden. 854. THE MANNER OF CUTTING UP VEAL for the English market is to divide the carcase into four quarters, with eleven ribs to each fore quarter; which are again subdivided into joints as exemplified on the cut. [Illustration: SIDE OF A CALF, SHOWING THE SEVERAL JOINTS.] _Hind quarter_:-- 1. The loin. 2. The chump, consisting of the rump and hock-bone. 3. The fillet. 4. The hock, or hind knuckle. _Fore quarter_:-- 5. The shoulder. 6. The neck. 7. The breast. 8. The fore knuckle. 855. THE SEVERAL PARTS OF A MODERATELY-SIZED WELL-FED CALF, about eight weeks old, are nearly of the following weights:--loin and chump 18 lbs., fillet 12-1/2 lbs., hind knuckle 5-1/2 lbs., shoulder 11 lbs, neck 11 lbs., breast 9 lbs., and fore knuckle 5 lbs.; making a total of 144 lbs. weight. The London mode of cutting the carcase is considered better than that pursued in Edinburgh, as giving three roasting joints, and one boiling, in each quarter; besides the pieces being more equally divided, as regards flesh, and from the handsomer appearance they make on the table. RECIPES. CHAPTER XIX. BAKED VEAL (Cold Meat Cookery). 856. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of cold roast veal, a few slices of bacon, 1 pint of bread crumbs, 1/2 pint of good veal gravy, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1 blade of pounded mace, cayenne and salt to taste, 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Mince finely the veal and bacon; add the bread crumbs, gravy, and seasoning, and stir these ingredients well together. Beat up the eggs thoroughly; add these, mix the whole well together, put into a dish, and bake from 3/4 to 1 hour. When liked, a little good gravy may be served in a tureen as an accompaniment. _Time_.--From 3/4 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. ROAST BREAST OF VEAL. [Illustration: BREAST OF VEAL.] 857. INGREDIENTS.--Veal; a little flour. _Mode_.--Wash the veal, well wipe it, and dredge it with flour; put it down to a bright fire, not too near, as it should not be scorched. Baste it plentifully until done; dish it, pour over the meat some good melted butter, and send to table with it a piece of boiled bacon and a cut lemon. _Time_.--From 1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. STEWED BREAST OF VEAL AND PEAS. 858. INGREDIENTS.--Breast of veal, 2 oz. of butter, a bunch of savoury herbs, including parsley; 2 blades of pounded mace, 2 cloves, 5 or 6 young onions, 1 strip of lemon-peel, 6 allspice, 1/4 teaspoonful of pepper, 1 teaspoonful of salt, thickening of butter and flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of sherry, 2 tablespoonfuls of tomato sauce, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup, green peas. _Mode_.--Cut the breast in half, after removing the bone underneath, and divide the meat into convenient-sized pieces. Put the butter into a frying-pan, lay in the pieces of veal, and fry until of a nice brown colour. Now place these in a stewpan with the herbs, mace, cloves, onions, lemon-peel, allspice, and seasoning; pour over them just sufficient boiling water to cover the meat; well close the lid, and let the whole simmer very gently for about 2 hours. Strain off as much gravy as is required, thicken it with butter and flour, add the remaining ingredients, skim well, let it simmer for about 10 minutes, then pour it over the meat. Have ready some green peas, boiled separately; sprinkle these over the veal, and serve. It may be garnished with forcemeat balls, or rashers of bacon curled and fried. Instead of cutting up the meat, many persons prefer it dressed whole;--in that case it should be half-roasted before the water, &c. are put to it. _Time_.--2-1/4 hours. _Average cost_, 8-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. BREEDING OF CALVES.--The forwarding of calves to maturity, whether intended to be reared for stock, or brought to an early market as veal, is always a subject of great importance, and requires a considerable amount of intelligence in the selection of the best course, to adopt for either end. When meant to be reared as stock, the breeding should be so arranged that the cow shall calve about the middle of May. As our subject, however, has more immediate reference to the calf as _meat_ than as _stock_, we shall confine our remarks to the mode of procedure adopted in the former case; and here, the first process adopted is that of weaning; which consists in separating the calf _entirely_ from the cow, but, at the same time, rearing it on the mother's milk. As the business of the dairy would be suspended if every cow were allowed to rear its young, and butter, cheese, and cream become _desiderata_,--things to be desired, but not possessed, a system of economical husbandry becomes necessary, so as to retain our dairy produce, and yet, for some weeks at least, nourish the calf on its mother's milk, but without allowing the animal to draw that supply for itself: this, with the proper substituted food on which to rear the young animal, is called weaning. VEAL CAKE (a Convenient Dish for a Picnic). 859. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of cold roast veal, a few slices of cold ham, 2 hard-boiled eggs, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced parsley, a little pepper, good gravy. _Mode_.--Cut off all the brown outside from the veal, and cut the eggs into slices. Procure a pretty mould; lay veal, ham, eggs, and parsley in layers, with a little pepper between each, and when the mould is full, get some _strong_ stock, and fill up the shape. Bake for 1/2 hour, and when cold, turn it out. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. BOILED CALF'S FEET AND PARSLEY AND BUTTER. 860. INGREDIENTS.--2 calf's feet, 2 slices of bacon, 2 oz. of butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice, salt and whole pepper to taste, 1 onion, a bunch of savoury herbs, 4 cloves, 1 blade of mace, water, parsley and butter No. 493. _Mode_.--Procure 2 white calf's feet; bone them as far as the first joint, and put them into warm water to soak for 2 hours. Then put the bacon, butter, lemon-juice, onion, herbs, spices, and seasoning into a stewpan; lay in the feet, and pour in just sufficient water to cover the whole. Stew gently for about 3 hours; take out the feet, dish them, and cover with parsley and butter, made by recipe No. 493. The liquor they were boiled in should be strained and put by in a clean basin for use: it will be found very good as an addition to gravies, &c. &c. _Time_.--Rather more than 3 hours. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. WHEN A CALF SHOULD BE KILLED.--The age at which a calf ought to be killed should not be under four weeks: before that time the flesh is certainly not wholesome, wanting firmness, due development of muscular fibre, and those animal juices on which the flavour and nutritive properties of the flesh depend, whatever the unhealthy palate of epicures may deem to the contrary. In France, a law exists to prevent the slaughtering of calves under _six weeks_ of age. The calf is considered in prime condition at ten weeks, when he will weigh from sixteen to eighteen stone, and sometimes even twenty. FRICASSEED CALF'S FEET. 861. INGREDIENTS.--A set of calf's feet; for the batter allow for each egg 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 tablespoonful of bread crumbs, hot lard or clarified dripping, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--If the feet are purchased uncleaned, dip them into warm water repeatedly, and scrape off the hair, first one foot and then the other, until the skin looks perfectly clean, a saucepan of water being kept by the fire until they are finished. After washing and soaking in cold water, boil them in just sufficient water to cover them, until the bones come easily away. Then pick them out, and after straining the liquor into a clean vessel, put the meat into a pie-dish until the next day. Now cut it down in slices about 1/2 inch thick, lay on them a stiff batter made of egg, flour, and bread crumbs in the above proportion; season with pepper and salt, and plunge them into a pan of boiling lard. Fry the slices a nice brown, dry them before the fire for a minute or two, dish them on a napkin, and garnish with tufts of parsley. This should be eaten with melted butter, mustard, and vinegar. Be careful to have the lard boiling to set the batter, or the pieces of feet will run about the pan. The liquor they were boiled in should be saved, and will be found useful for enriching gravies, making jellies, &e. &e. _Time_.--About 3 hours to stew the feet, 10 or 15 minutes to fry them. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. each. _Sufficient_ for 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--This dish can be highly recommended to delicate persons. COLOUR OF VEAL.--As whiteness of flesh is considered a great advantage in veal, butchers, in the selection of their calves, are in the habit of examining the inside of its mouth, and noting the colour of the calf's eyes; alleging that, from the signs they there see, they can prognosticate whether the veal will be white or florid. COLLARED CALF'S HEAD. 862. INGREDIENTS.--A calf's head, 4 tablespoonfuls of minced parsley, 4 blades of pounded mace, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, white pepper to taste, a few thick slices of ham, the yolks of 6 eggs boiled hard. _Mode_.--Scald the head for a few minutes; take it out of the water, and with a blunt knife scrape off all the hair. Clean it nicely, divide the head and remove the brains. Boil it tender enough to take out the bones, which will be in about 2 hours. When the head is boned, flatten it on the table, sprinkle over it a thick layer of parsley, then a layer of ham, and then the yolks of the eggs cut into thin rings and put a seasoning of pounded mace, nutmeg, and white pepper between each layer; roll the head up in a cloth, and tie it up as tightly as possible. Boil it for 4 hours, and when it is taken out of the pot, place a heavy weight on the top, the same as for other collars. Let it remain till cold; then remove the cloth and binding, and it will be ready to serve. _Time_.--Altogether 6 hours. _Average cost_, 5s. to 7s. each. _Seasonable_ from March to October. FEEDING A CALF.--The amount of milk necessary for a calf for some time, will be about four quarts a day, though, after the first fortnight, that quantity should be gradually increased, according to its development of body, when, if fed exclusively on milk, as much as three gallons a day will be requisite for the due health and requirements of the animal. If the weather is fine and genial, it should be turned into an orchard or small paddock for a few hours each day, to give it an opportunity to acquire a relish for the fresh pasture, which, by the tenth or twelfth week, it will begin to nibble and enjoy. After a certain time, the quantity of milk may be diminished, and its place supplied by water thickened with meal. Hay-tea and linseed-jelly are also highly nutritious substances, and may be used either as adjuncts or substitutes. FRICASSEED CALF'S HEAD (an Entree). 863. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a boiled calf's head, 1-1/2 pint of the liquor in which the head was boiled, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 onion minced, a bunch of savoury herbs, salt and white pepper to taste, thickening of butter and flour, the yolks of 2 eggs, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, forcemeat balls. _Mode_.--Remove all the bones from the head, and cut the meat into nice square pieces. Put 1-1/2 pint of the liquor it was boiled in into a saucepan, with mace, onion, herbs, and seasoning in the above proportion; let this simmer gently for 3/4 hour, then strain it and put in the meat. When quite hot through, thicken the gravy with a little butter rolled in flour, and, just before dishing the fricassee, put in the beaten yolks of eggs and lemon-juice; but be particular, after these two latter ingredients are added, that the sauce does not boil, or it will curdle. Garnish with forcemeat balls and curled slices of broiled bacon. To insure the sauce being smooth, it is a good plan to dish the meat first, and then to add the eggs to the gravy: when these are set, the sauce may be poured over the meat. _Time_.--Altogether, 1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. CALF'S HEAD a la Maitre d'Hotel. 864. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a cold calf's head, rather more than 1/2 pint of Maitre d'hôtel sauce No. 466. _Mode_.--Make the sauce by recipe No. 466, and have it sufficiently thick that it may nicely cover the meat; remove the bones from the head, and cut the meat into neat slices. When the sauce is ready, lay in the meat; let it _gradually_ warm through, and, after it boils up, let it simmer very gently for 5 minutes, and serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 1s. 2d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. THE CALF IN AMERICA.--In America, the calf is left with the mother for three or four days, when it is removed, and at once fed on barley and oats ground together and made into a gruel, 1 quart of the meal being boiled for half an hour in 12 quarts of water. One quart of this certainly nutritious gruel, is to be given, lukewarm, morning and evening. In ten days, a bundle of soft hay is put beside the calf, which he soon begins to eat, and, at the same time, some of the dry meal is placed in his manger for him to lick. This process, gradually increasing the quantity of gruel twice a day, is continued for two months, till the calf is fit to go to grass, and, as it is said, with the best possible success. But, in this country, the mode pointed out in No. 862 has received the sanction of the best experience. CURRIED VEAL (Cold Meat Cookery). 865. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast veal, 4 onions, 2 apples sliced, 1 tablespoonful of curry-powder, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1/2 pint of broth or water, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Slice the onions and apples, and fry them in a little butter; then take them out, cut the meat into neat cutlets, and fry these of a pale brown; add the curry-powder and flour, put in the onion, apples, and a little broth or water, and stew gently till quite tender; add the lemon-juice, and serve with an edging of boiled rice. The curry may be ornamented with pickles, capsicums, and gherkins arranged prettily on the top. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 4d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. VEAL CUTLETS (an Entree). 866. INGREDIENTS.--About 3 lbs. of the prime part of the leg of veal, egg and bread crumbs, 3 tablespoonfuls of minced savoury herbs, salt and popper to taste, a small piece of butter. [Illustration: VEAL CUTLETS.] _Mode_.--Have the veal cut into slices about 3/4 of an inch in thickness, and, if not cut perfectly even, level the meat with a cutlet-bat or rolling-pin. Shape and trim the cutlets, and brush them over with egg. Sprinkle with bread crumbs, with which have been mixed minced herbs and a seasoning of pepper and salt, and press the crumbs down. Fry them of a delicate brown in fresh lard or butter, and be careful not to burn them. They should be very thoroughly done, but not dry. If the cutlets be thick, keep the pan covered for a few minutes at a good distance from the fire, after they have acquired a good colour: by this means, the meat will be done through. Lay the cutlets in a dish, keep them hot, and make a gravy in the pan as follows: Dredge in a little flour, add a piece of butter the size of a walnut, brown it, then pour as much boiling water as is required over it, season with pepper and salt, add a little lemon-juice, give one boil, and pour it over the cutlets. They should be garnished with slices of broiled bacon, and a few forcemeat balls will be found a very excellent addition to this dish. _Time_.--For cutlets of a moderate thickness, about 12 minutes; if very thick, allow more time. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--Veal cutlets may be merely floured and fried of a nice brown; the gravy and garnishing should be the same as in the preceding recipe. They may also be cut from the loin or neck, as shown in the engraving. BROILED VEAL CUTLETS a l'Italienne (an Entree). 867. INGREDIENTS.--Neck of veal, salt and pepper to taste, the yolk of 1 egg, bread crumbs, 1/2 pint of Italian sauce No. 453. _Mode_.--Cut the veal into cutlets, flatten and trim them nicely; powder over them a little salt and pepper; brush them over with the yolk of an egg, dip them into bread crumbs, then into clarified butter, and, afterwards, in the bread crumbs again; broil or fry them over a clear fire, that they may acquire a good brown colour. Arrange them in the dish alternately with rashers of broiled ham, and pour the sauce, made by recipe No. 453, in the middle. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes, according to the thickness of the cutlets. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Seasonable_ from March to October. THE CALF'S-HEAD CLUB.--When the restoration of Charles II. took the strait waistcoat off the minds and morose religion of the Commonwealth period, and gave a loose rein to the long-compressed spirits of the people, there still remained a large section of society wedded to the former state of things. The elders of this party retired from public sight, where, unoffended by the reigning saturnalia, they might dream in seclusion over their departed Utopia. The young bloods of this school, however, who were compelled to mingle in the world, yet detesting the politics which had become the fashion, adopted a novel expedient to keep alive their republican sentiments, and mark their contempt of the reigning family. They accordingly met, in considerable numbers, at some convenient inn, on the 30th of January in each year,--the anniversary of Charles's death, and dined together off a feast prepared from _calves' heads_, dressed in every possible variety of way, and with an abundance of wine drank toasts of defiance and hatred to the house of Stuart, and glory to the memory of old Holl Cromwell; and having lighted a large bonfire in the yard, the club of fast young Puritans, with their white handkerchiefs stained _red_ in wine, and one of the party in a mask, bearing an axe, followed by the chairman, carrying a _calf's head_ pinned up in a napkin, marched in mock procession to the bonfire, into which, with great shouts and uproar, they flung the enveloped head. This odd custom was continued for some time, and even down to the early part of this century it was customary for men of republican politics always to dine off calf's head on the 30th of January. VEAL CUTLETS a la Maintenon (an Entree). 868. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 lbs. of veal cutlets, egg and bread crumbs, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced savoury herbs, salt and pepper to taste, a little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Cut the cutlets about 3/4 inch in thickness, flatten them, and brush them over with the yolk of an egg; dip them into bread crumbs and minced herbs, season with pepper and salt and grated nutmeg, and fold each cutlet in a piece of buttered paper. Broil them, and send them to table with melted butter or a good gravy. _Time_.--From 15 to 18 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. VEAL A LA BOURGEOISE. (_Excellent_.) 869. INGREDIENTS.--2 to 3 lbs. of the loin or neck of veal, 10 or 12 young carrots, a bunch of green onions, 2 slices of lean bacon, 2 blades of pounded mace, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, pepper and salt to taste, a few new potatoes, 1 pint of green peas. _Mode_.--Cut the veal into cutlets, trim them, and put the trimmings into a stewpan with a little butter; lay in the cutlets and fry them a nice brown colour on both sides. Add the bacon, carrots, onions, spice, herbs, and seasoning; pour in about a pint of boiling water, and stew gently for 2 hours on a very slow fire. When done, skim off the fat, take out the herbs, and flavour the gravy with a little tomato sauce and ketchup. Have ready the peas and potatoes, boiled _separately_; put them with the veal, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from June to August with peas;--rather earlier when these are omitted. SCOTCH COLLOPS (Cold Meat Cookery). 870. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast veal, a little butter, flour, 1/2 pint of water, 1 onion, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1/2 teaspoonful of finely-minced lemon-peel, 2 tablespoonfuls of sherry, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut the veal the same thickness as for cutlets, rather larger than a crown-piece; flour the meat well, and fry a light brown in butter; dredge again with flour, and add 1/2 pint of water, pouring it in by degrees; set it on the fire, and when it boils, add the onion and mace, and let it simmer very gently about 3/4 hour; flavour the gravy with lemon-juice, peel, wine, and ketchup, in the above proportion; give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Seasonable_ from March to October. SCOTCH COLLOPS, WHITE (Cold Meat Cookery). 871. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast veal, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 2 blades of pounded mace, cayenne and salt to taste, a little butter, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1/4 pint of water, 1 teaspoonful of anchovy sauce, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1 teaspoonful of lemon-peel, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream, 1 tablespoonful of sherry. _Mode_.--Cut the veal into thin slices about 3 inches in width; hack them with a knife, and grate on them the nutmeg, mace, cayenne, and salt, and fry them in a little butter. Dish them, and make a gravy in the pan by putting in the remaining ingredients. Give one boil, and pour it over the collops; garnish with lemon and slices of toasted bacon, rolled. Forcemeat balls may be added to this dish. If cream is not at hand, substitute the yolk of an egg beaten up well with a little milk. _Time_.--About 5 or 7 minutes. _Seasonable_ from May to October. COOKING COLLOPS.--Dean Ramsay, who tells us, in his "Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character," a number of famous stories of the strong-headed, warm-hearted, and plain-spoken old dames of the north, gives, amongst them, the following:--A strong-minded lady of this class was inquiring the character of a cook she was about to hire. The lady who was giving the character entered a little upon the cook's moral qualifications, and described her as a very decent woman; to which the astounding reply--this was 60 years ago, and a Dean tells the story--"Oh, d--n her decency; can she make good collops?" ROAST FILLET OF VEAL. 872. INGREDIENTS.--Veal, forcemeat No. 417, melted butter. _Mode_.--Have the fillet cut according to the size required; take out the bone, and after raising the skin from the meat, put under the flap a nice forcemeat, made by recipe No. 417. Prepare sufficient of this, as there should be some left to eat cold, and to season and flavour a mince if required. Skewer and bind the veal up in a round form; dredge well with flour, put it down at some distance from the fire at first, and baste continually. About 1/2 hour before serving, draw it nearer the fire, that it may acquire more colour, as the outside should be of a rich brown, but not burnt. Dish it, remove the skewers, which replace by a silver one; pour over the joint some good melted butter, and serve with either boiled ham, bacon, or pickled pork. Never omit to send a cut lemon to table with roast veal. [Illustration: FILLET OF VEAL.] _Time_.--A fillet of veal weighing 12 lbs., about 4 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 9 or 10 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. STEWED FILLET OF VEAL. 873. INGREDIENTS.--A small fillet of veal, forcemeat No. 417, thickening of butter and flour, a few mushrooms, white pepper to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice, 2 blades of pounded mace, 1/2 glass of sherry. _Mode_.--If the whole of the leg is purchased, take off the knuckle to stew, and also the square end, which will serve for cutlets or pies. Remove the bone, and fill the space with a forcemeat No. 417. Roll and skewer it up firmly; place a few skewers at the bottom of a stewpan to prevent the meat from sticking, and cover the veal with a little weak stock. Let it simmer very _gently_ until tender, as the more slowly veal is stewed, the better. Strain and thicken the sauce, flavour it with lemon-juice, mace, sherry, and white pepper; give one boil, and pour it over the meat. The skewers should be removed, and replaced by a silver one, and the dish garnished with slices of cut lemon. _Time_.--A. fillet of veal weighing 6 lbs., 3 hours' very gentle stewing. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. THE GOLDEN CALF.--We are told in the book of Genesis, that Aaron, in the lengthened absence of Moses, was constrained by the impatient people to make them an image to worship; and that Aaron, instead of using his delegated power to curb this sinful expression of the tribes, and appease the discontented Jews, at once complied with their demand, and, telling them to bring to him their rings and trinkets, fashioned out of their willing contributions a calf of gold, before which the multitude fell down and worshipped. Whether this image was a solid figure of gold, or a wooden effigy merely, coated with metal, is uncertain. To suppose the former,--knowing the size of the image made from such trifling articles as rings, we must presuppose the Israelites to have spoiled the Egyptians most unmercifully: the figure, however, is of more consequence than the weight or size of the idol. That the Israelite brought away more from Goshen than the plunder of the Egyptians, and that they were deeply imbued with Egyptian superstition, the golden calf is only one, out of many instances of proof; for a gilded ox, covered with a pall, was in that country an emblem of Osiris, one of the gods of the Egyptian trinity. Besides having a sacred cow, and many varieties of the holy bull, this priest-ridden people worshipped the ox as a symbol of the sun, and offered to it divine honours, as the emblem of frugality, industry, and husbandry. It is therefore probable that, in borrowing so familiar a type, the Israelites, in their calf-worship, meant, under a well-understood cherubic symbol, to acknowledge the full force of those virtues, under an emblem of divine power and goodness. The prophet Hosea is full of denunciations against calf-worship in Israel, and alludes to the custom of kissing these idols, Hosea, viii, 4-6. FRICANDEAU OF VEAL (an Entree). 874. INGREDIENTS.--A piece of the fat side of a leg of veal (about 3 lbs.), lardoons, 2 carrots, 2 large onions, a faggot of savoury herbs, 2 blades of pounded mace, 6 whole allspice, 2 bay-leaves, pepper to taste, a few slices of fat bacon, 1 pint of stock No. 107. [Illustration: FRICANDEAU OF VEAL.] _Mode_.--The veal for a fricandeau should be of the best quality, or it will not be good. It may be known by the meat being white and not thready. Take off the skin, flatten the veal on the table, then at one stroke of the knife, cut off as much as is required, for a fricandeau with an uneven surface never looks well. Trim it, and with a sharp knife make two or three slits in the middle, that it may taste more of the seasoning. Now lard it thickly with fat bacon, as lean gives a red colour to the fricandeau. Slice the vegetables, and put these, with the herbs and spices, in the _middle_ of a stewpan, with a few slices of bacon at the top: these should form a sort of mound in the centre for the veal to rest upon. Lay the fricandeau over the bacon, sprinkle over it a little salt, and pour in just sufficient stock to cover the bacon, &c., without touching the veal. Let it gradually come to a boil; then put it over a slow and equal fire, and let it _simmer very_ gently for about 2-1/2 hours, or longer should it be very large. Baste it frequently with the liquor, and a short time before serving, put it into a brisk oven, to make the bacon firm, which otherwise would break when it was glazed. Dish the fricandeau, keep it hot, skim off the fat from the liquor, and reduce it quickly to a glaze, with which glaze the fricandeau, and serve with a purée of whatever vegetable happens to be in season--spinach, sorrel, asparagus, cucumbers, peas, &c. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours. If very large, allow more time. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for an entrée. _Seasonable_ from March to October. FRICANDEAU OF VEAL (_More economical_.) 875. INGREDIENTS.--The best end of a neck of veal (about 2-1/2 lbs.), lardoons, 2 carrots, 2 onions, a faggot of savoury herbs, 2 blades of mace, 2 bay-leaves, a little whole white pepper, a few slices of fat bacon. _Mode_.--Cut away the lean part of the best end of a neck of veal with a sharp knife, scooping it from the bones. Put the bones in with a little water, which will serve to moisten the fricandeau: they should stew about 1-1/2 hour. Lard the veal, proceed in the same way as in the preceding recipe, and be careful that the gravy does not touch the fricandeau. Stew very gently for 3 hours; glaze, and serve it on sorrel, spinach, or with a little gravy in the dish. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for an entrée. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--When the prime part of the leg is cut off, it spoils the whole; consequently, to use this for a fricandeau is rather extravagant. The best end of the neck answers the purpose nearly or quite as well. BOILED CALF'S HEAD (with the Skin on). 876. INGREDIENTS.--Calf's head, boiling water, bread crumbs, 1 large bunch of parsley, butter, white pepper and salt to taste, 4 tablespoonfuls of melted butter, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 2 or 3 grains of cayenne. _Mode_.--Put the head into boiling water, and let it remain by the side of the fire for 3 or 4 minutes; take it out, hold it by the ear, and with the back of a knife, scrape off the hair (should it not come off easily, dip the head again into boiling water). When perfectly clean, take the eyes out, cut off the ears, and remove the brain, which soak for an hour in warm water. Put the head into hot water to soak for a few minutes, to make it look white, and then have ready a stewpan, into which lay the head; cover it with cold water, and bring it gradually to boil. Remove the scum, and add a little salt, which assists to throw it up. Simmer it very gently from 2-1/2 to 3 hours, and when nearly done, boil the brains for 1/4 hour; skin and chop them, not too finely, and add a tablespoonful of minced parsley which has been previously scalded. Season with pepper and salt, and stir the brains, parsley, &c., into about 4 tablespoonfuls of melted butter; add the lemon-juice and cayenne, and keep these hot by the side of the fire. Take up the head, cut out the tongue, skin it, put it on a small dish with the brains round it; sprinkle over the head a few bread crumbs mixed with a little minced parsley; brown these before the fire, and serve with a tureen of parsley and butter, and either boiled bacon, ham, or pickled pork as an accompaniment. _Time_.--2-1/2 to 3 hours. _Average cost_, according to the season, from 3s. to 7s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 8 or 9 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. BOILED CALF'S HEAD (without the Skin). 877. INGREDIENTS.--Calf's head, water, a little salt, 4 tablespoonfuls of melted butter, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, pepper and salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. [Illustration: CALF'S HEAD.] [Illustration: HALF A CALF'S HEAD.] _Mode_.--After the head has been thoroughly cleaned, and the brains removed, soak it in warm water to blanch it. Lay the brains also into warm water to soak, and let them remain for about an hour. Put the head into a stewpan, with sufficient cold water to cover it, and when it boils, add a little salt; take off every particle of scum as it rises, and boil the head until perfectly tender. Boil the brains, chop them, and mix with them melted butter, minced parsley, pepper, salt, and lemon-juice in the above proportion. Take up the head, skin the tongue, and put it on a small dish with the brains round it. Have ready some parsley and butter, smother the head with it, and the remainder send to table in a tureen. Bacon, ham, pickled pork, or a pig's cheek, are indispensable with calf's head. The brains are sometimes chopped with hard-boiled eggs, and mixed with a little Béchamel or white sauce. _Time_.--From 1-1/2 to 2-1/4 hours. _Average cost_, according to the season, from 3s. to 5s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--The liquor in which the head was boiled should be saved: it makes excellent soup, and will be found a nice addition to gravies, &c. Half a calf's head is as frequently served as a whole one, it being a more convenient-sized joint for a small family. It is cooked in the same manner, and served with the same sauces, as in the preceding recipe. HASHED CALF'S HEAD (Cold Meat Cookery). 878. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a cold boiled calf's head, 1 quart of the liquor in which it was boiled, a faggot of savoury herbs, 1 onion, 1 carrot, a strip of lemon-peel, 2 blades of pounded mace, salt and white pepper to taste, a very little cayenne, rather more than 2 tablespoonfuls of sherry, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, forcemeat balls. _Mode_.--Cut the meat into neat slices, and put the bones and trimmings into a stewpan with the above proportion of liquor that the head was boiled in. Add a bunch of savoury herbs, 1 onion, 1 carrot, a strip of lemon-peel, and 2 blades of pounded mace, and let these boil for 1 hour, or until the gravy is reduced nearly half. Strain it into a clean stewpan, thicken it with a little butter and flour, and add a flavouring of sherry, lemon-juice, and ketchup, in the above proportion; season with pepper, salt, and a little cayenne; put in the meat, let it _gradually_ warm through, but not boil more than _two_ or _three_ minutes. Garnish the dish with forcemeat balls and pieces of bacon rolled and toasted, placed alternately, and send it to table very hot. _Time_.--Altogether 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the remains of the head, 6d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. VEAL COLLOPS (an Entree). 879. INGREDIENTS.--About 2 lbs. of the prime part of the leg of veal, a few slices of bacon, forcemeat No. 417, cayenne to taste, egg and bread crumbs, gravy. _Mode_.--Cut the veal into long thin collops, flatten them, and lay on each a piece of thin bacon of the same size; have ready some forcemeat, made by recipe No. 417, which spread over the bacon, sprinkle over all a little cayenne, roll them up tightly, and do not let them be more than 2 inches long. Skewer each one firmly, egg and bread crumb them, and fry them a nice brown in a little butter, turning them occasionally, and shaking the pan about. When done, place them on a dish before the fire; put a small piece of butter in the pan, dredge in a little flour, add 1/4 pint of water, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice, a seasoning of salt, pepper, and pounded mace; let the whole boil up, and pour it over the collops. _Time_.--From 10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. CALF'S LIVER AUX FINES HERBES & SAUCE PIQUANTE. 880. INGREDIENTS.--A calf's liver, flour, a bunch of savoury herbs, including parsley; when liked, 2 minced shalots; 1 teaspoonful of flour, 1 tablespoonful of vinegar, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, pepper and salt to taste, 1/4 pint water. _Mode_.--Procure a calf's liver as white as possible, and cut it into slices of a good and equal shape. Dip them in flour, and fry them of a good colour in a little butter. When they are done, put them on a dish, which keep hot before the fire. Mince the herbs very fine, put them in the frying-pan with a little more butter; add the remaining ingredients, simmer gently until the herbs are done, and pour over the liver. _Time_.--According to the thickness of the slices, from 5 to 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. CALF'S LIVER AND BACON. 881. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 lbs. of liver, bacon, pepper and salt to taste, a small piece of butter, flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice, 1/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--Cut the liver in thin slices, and cut as many slices of bacon as there are of liver; fry the bacon first, and put that on a hot dish before the fire. Fry the liver in the fat which comes from the bacon, after seasoning it with pepper and salt and dredging over it a very little flour. Turn the liver occasionally to prevent its burning, and when done, lay it round the dish with a piece of bacon between each. Pour away the bacon fat, put in a small piece of butter, dredge in a little flour, add the lemon-juice and water, give one boil, and pour it in the _middle_ of the dish. It may be garnished with slices of cut lemon, or forcemeat balls. _Time_.--According to the thickness of the slices, from 5 to 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. CALF'S LIVER LARDED AND ROASTED (an Entree). 882. INGREDIENTS.--A calf's liver, vinegar, 1 onion, 3 or 4 sprigs of parsley and thyme, salt and pepper to taste, 1 bay-leaf, lardoons, brown gravy. _Mode_.--Take a fine white liver, and lard it the same as a fricandeau; put it into vinegar with an onion cut in slices, parsley, thyme, bay-leaf, and seasoning in the above proportion. Let it remain in this pickle for 24 hours, then roast and baste it frequently with the vinegar, &c.; glaze it, serve under it a good brown gravy, or sauce piquante, and send it to table very hot. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--Calf's liver stuffed with forcemeat No. 417, to which has been added a little fat bacon, will be found a very savoury dish. It should be larded or wrapped in buttered paper, and roasted before a clear fire. Brown gravy and currant jelly should be served with it. FILLET OF VEAL AU BECHAMEL (Cold Meat Cookery). 883. INGREDIENTS.--A small fillet of veal, 1 pint of Béchamel sauce No. 367, a few bread crumbs, clarified butter. _Mode_.--A fillet of real that has been roasted the preceding day will answer very well for this dish. Cut the middle out rather deep, leaving a good margin round, from which to cut nice slices, and if there should be any cracks in the veal, fill them up with forcemeat. Mince finely the meat that was taken out, mixing with it a little of the forcemeat to flavour, and stir to it sufficient Béchamel to make it of a proper consistency. Warm the veal in the oven for about an hour, taking care to baste it well, that it may not be dry; put the mince in the place where the meat was taken out, sprinkle a few bread crumbs over it, and drop a little clarified butter on the bread crumbs; put it into the oven for 1/4 hour to brown, and pour Béchamel round the sides of the dish. _Time_.--Altogether 1-1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ from March to October. TO RAGOUT A KNUCKLE OF VEAL. 884. INGREDIENTS.--Knuckle of veal, pepper and salt to taste, flour, 1 onion, 1 head of celery, or a little celery-seed, a faggot of savoury herbs, 2 blades of pounded mace, thickening of butter and flour, a few young carrots, 1 tablespoonful of ketchup, 1 tablespoonful of tomato sauce, 3 tablespoonfuls of sherry, the juice of 1/4 lemon. _Mode_.--Cut the meat from a knuckle of veal into neat slices, season with pepper and salt, and dredge them with flour. Fry them in a little butter of a pale brown, and put them into a stewpan with the bone (which should be chopped in several places); add the celery, herbs, mace, and carrots; pour over all about 1 pint of hot water, and let it simmer very gently for 2 hours, over a slow but clear fire. Take out the slices of meat and carrots, strain and thicken the gravy with a little butter rolled in flour; add the remaining ingredients, give one boil, put back the meat and carrots, let these get hot through, and serve. When in season, a few green peas, _boiled separately_, and added to this dish at the moment of serving, would be found a very agreeable addition. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 5d. to 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 6 persons. STEWED KNUCKLE OF VEAL AND RICE. 885. INGREDIENTS.--Knuckle of veal, 1 onion, 2 blades of mace, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 1/2 lb. of rice. [Illustration: KNUCKLE OF VEAL.] _Mode_.--Have the knuckle cut small, or cut some cutlets from it, that it may be just large enough to be eaten the same day it is dressed, as cold boiled veal is not a particularly tempting dish. Break the shank-bone, wash it clean, and put the meat into a stewpan with sufficient water to cover it. Let it gradually come to a boil, put in the salt, and remove the scum as fast as it rises. When it has simmered gently for about 3/4 hour, add the remaining ingredients, and stew the whole gently for 2-1/4 hours. Put the meat into a deep dish, pour over it the rice, &c., and send boiled bacon, and a tureen of parsley and butter to table with it. _Time_.--A knuckle of veal weighing 6 lbs., 3 hours' gentle stewing. _Average cost_, 5d. to 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--Macaroni, instead of rice, boiled with the veal, will be found good; or the rice and macaroni may be omitted, and the veal sent to table smothered in parsley and butter. ROAST LOIN OF VEAL. [Illustration: LOIN OF VEAL.] 886. INGREDIENTS.--Veal; melted butter. _Mode_.--Paper the kidney fat; roll in and skewer the flap, which makes the joint a good shape; dredge it well with flour, and put it down to a bright fire. Should the loin be very large, skewer the kidney back for a time to roast thoroughly. Keep it well basted, and a short time before serving, remove the paper from the kidney, and allow it to acquire a nice brown colour, but it should not be burnt. Have ready some melted butter, put it into the dripping-pan after it is emptied of its contents, pour it over the veal, and serve. Garnish the dish with slices of lemon and forcemeat balls, and send to table with it, boiled bacon, ham, pickled pork, or pig's cheek. _Time_.--A large loin, 3 hours. _Average cost_, 9-1/2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--A piece of toast should be placed under the kidney when the veal is dished. LOIN OF VEAL AU BECHAMEL (Cold Meat Cookery). 887. INGREDIENTS.--Loin of veal, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, rather more than 1/2 pint of Béchamel or white sauce. _Mode_.--A loin of veal which has come from table with very little taken off, answers very well for this dish. Cut off the meat from the inside, mince it, and mix with it some minced lemon-peel; put it into sufficient Béchamel to warm through. In the mean time, wrap the joint in buttered paper, and place it in the oven to warm. When thoroughly hot, dish the mince, place the loin above it, and pour over the remainder of the Béchamel. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour to warm the meat in the oven. _Seasonable_ from March to October. LOIN OF VEAL, a la Daube. 888. INGREDIENTS.--The chump end of a loin of veal, forcemeat No. 417, a few slices of bacon, a bunch of savoury herbs, 2 blades of mace, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole white pepper, 1 pint of veal stock or water, 5 or 6 green onions. _Mode_.--Cut off the chump from a loin of veal, and take out the bone; fill the cavity with forcemeat No. 417, tie it up tightly, and lay it in a stewpan with the bones and trimmings, and cover the veal with a few slices of bacon. Add the herbs, mace, pepper, and onions, and stock or water; cover the pan with a closely-fitting lid, and simmer for 2 hours, shaking the stewpan occasionally. Take out the bacon, herbs, and onions; reduce the gravy, if not already thick enough, to a glaze, with which glaze the meat, and serve with tomato, mushroom, or sorrel sauce. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. MINCED VEAL, with Béchamel Sauce (Cold Meat Cookery). (_Very Good_.) 889. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a fillet of veal, 1 pint of Béchamel sauce No. 367, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, forcemeat balls. _Mode_.--Cut--but do not _chop_--a few slices of cold roast veal as finely as possible, sufficient to make rather more than 1 lb., weighed after being minced. Make the above proportion of Béchamel, by recipe No. 367; add the lemon-peel, put in the veal, and let the whole gradually warm through. When it is at the point of simmering, dish it, and garnish with forcemeat balls and fried sippets of bread. _Time_.--To simmer 1 minute. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. MINCED VEAL. (_More Economical_.) 890. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fillet or loin of veal, rather more than 1 pint of water, 1 onion, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, salt and white pepper to taste, 1 blade of pounded mace, 2 or 3 young carrots, a faggot of sweet herbs, thickening of butter and flour, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream or milk. _Mode_.--Take about 1 lb. of veal, and should there be any bones, dredge them with flour, and put them into a stewpan with the brown outside, and a few meat trimmings; add rather more than a pint of water, the onion cut in slices, lemon-peel, seasoning, mace, carrots, and herbs; simmer these well for rather more than 1 hour, and strain the liquor. Rub a little flour into some butter; add this to the gravy, set it on the fire, and, when it boils, skim well. Mince the veal finely by _cutting_, and not chopping it; put it in the gravy; let it get warmed through gradually; add the lemon-juice and cream, and, when it is on the point of boiling, serve. Garnish the dish with sippets of toasted bread and slices of bacon rolled and toasted. Forcemeat balls may also be added. If more lemon-peel is liked than is stated above, put a little very finely minced to the veal, after it is warmed in the gravy. _Time_.--1 hour to make the gravy. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. THE CALF A SYMBOL OF DIVINE POWER.--A singular symbolical ceremony existed among the Hebrews, in which the calf performed a most important part. The calf being a type or symbol of Divine power, or what was called the _Elohim_,--the Almighty intelligence that brought them out of Egypt,--was looked upon much in the same light by the Jews, as the cross subsequently was by the Christians, a mystical emblem of the Divine passion and goodness. Consequently, an oath taken on either the calf or the cross was considered equally solemn and sacred by Jew or Nazarene, and the breaking of it a soul-staining perjury on themselves, and an insult and profanation directly offered to the Almighty. To render the oath more impressive and solemn, it was customary to slaughter a dedicated calf in the temple, when, the priests having divided the carcase into a certain number of parts, and with intervening spaces, arranged the severed limbs on the marble pavement, the one, or all the party, if there were many individuals, to be bound by the oath, repeating the words of the compact, threaded their way in and out through the different spaces, till they had taken the circuit of each portion of the divided calf, when the ceremony was concluded. To avert the anger of the Lord, when Jerusalem was threatened by Nebuchadnezzar and his Babylonian host, the Jews had made a solemn to God, ratified by the ceremony of the calf, if He released them from their dreaded foe, to cancel the servitude of their Hebrew brethren. After investing the city for some time, and reducing the inhabitants to dreadful suffering and privation, the Babylonians, hearing that Pharaoh, whom the Jews had solicited for aid, was rapidly approaching with a powerful army, hastily raised the siege, and, removing to a distance, took up a position where they could intercept the Egyptians, and still cover the city. No sooner did the Jews behold the retreat of the enemy, than they believed all danger was past, and, with their usual turpitude, they repudiated their oath, and refused to liberate their oppressed countrymen. For this violation of their covenant with the Lord, they were given over to all the horrors of the sword, pestilence, and famine--Jeremiah, xxxiv. 15-17. MINCED VEAL AND MACARONI. (_A pretty side or corner dish_.) 891. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of minced cold roast veal, 3 oz. of ham, 1 tablespoonful of gravy, pepper and salt to taste, 3 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 1/4 lb. of macaroni, 1 or 2 eggs to bind, a small piece of butter. _Mode_.--Cut some nice slices from a cold fillet of veal, trim off the brown outside, and mince the meat finely with the above proportion of ham: should the meat be very dry, add a spoonful of good gravy. Season highly with pepper and salt, add the grated nutmeg and bread crumbs, and mix these ingredients with 1 or 2 eggs well beaten, which should bind the mixture and make it like forcemeat. In the mean time, boil the macaroni in salt and water, and drain it; butter a mould, put some of the macaroni at the bottom and sides of it, in whatever form is liked; mix the remainder with the forcemeat, fill the mould up to the top, put a plate or small dish on it, and steam for 1/2 hour. Turn it out carefully, and serve with good gravy poured round, but not over, the meat. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 10d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--To make a variety, boil some carrots and turnips separately in a little salt and water; when done, cut them into pieces about 1/8 inch in thickness; butter an oval mould, and place these in it, in white and red stripes alternately, at the bottom and sides. Proceed as in the foregoing recipe, and be very careful in turning it out of the mould. MOULDED MINCED VEAL (Cold Meat Cookery). 892. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of cold roast veal, a small slice of bacon, 1/4 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1/2 onion chopped fine, salt, pepper, and pounded mace to taste, a slice of toast soaked in milk, 1 egg. _Mode_.--Mince the meat very fine, after removing from it all skin and outside pieces, and chop the bacon; mix these well together, adding the lemon-peel, onion, seasoning, mace, and toast. When all the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated, heat up an egg, with which bind the mixture. Butter a shape, put in the meat, and hake for 3/4 hour; turn it out of the mould carefully, and pour round it a good brown gravy. A sheep's head dressed in this manner is an economical and savoury dish. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. BRAISED NECK OF VEAL. 893. INGREDIENTS.--The best end of the neck of veal (from 3 to 4 lbs.), bacon, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg to taste; 1 onion, 2 carrots, a little celery (when this is not obtainable, use the seed), 1/2 glass of sherry, thickening of butter and flour, lemon-juice, 1 blade of pounded mace. _Mode_.--Prepare the bacon for larding, and roll it in minced parsley, salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg; lard the veal, put it into a stewpan with a few slices of lean bacon or ham, an onion, carrots, and celery; and do not quite cover it with water. Stew it gently for 2 hours, or until it is quite tender; strain off the liquor; stir together over the fire, in a stewpan, a little flour and butter until brown; lay the veal in this, the upper side to the bottom of the pan, and let it remain till of a nice brown colour. Place it in the dish; pour into the stewpan as much gravy as is required, boil it up, skim well, add the wine, pounded mace, and lemon-juice; simmer for 3 minutes, pour it over the meat, and serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. BIRTH OF CALVES.--The cow seldom produces more than a single calf; sometimes, twins, and, very rarely, three. A French newspaper, however,--the "Nouveau Bulletin des Sciences,"--gave a trustworthy but extraordinary account of a cow which produced nine calves in all, at three successive births, in three successive years. The first year, four cow calves; the second year, three calves, two of them females; the third year, two calves, both females. With the exception of two belonging to the first birth, all were suckled by the mother. ROAST NECK OF VEAL. 894. INGREDIENTS.--Veal, melted butter, forcemeat balls. _Mode_.--Have the veal cut from the best end of the neck; dredge it with flour, and put it down to a bright clear fire; keep it well basted; dish it, pour over it some melted butter, and garnish the dish with fried forcemeat balls; send to table with a cut lemon. The scrag may be boiled or stewed in various ways, with rice, onion-sauce, or parsley and butter. _Time_.--About 2 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--4 or 5 lbs. for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. VEAL OLIVE PIE (Cold Meat Cookery). 895. INGREDIENTS.--A few thin slices of cold fillet of veal, a few thin slices of bacon, forcemeat No. 417, a cupful of gravy, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, puff-crust. _Mode_.--Cut thin slices from a fillet of veal, place on them thin slices of bacon, and over them a layer of forcemeat, made by recipe No. 417, with an additional seasoning of shalot and cayenne; roll them tightly, and fill up a pie-dish with them; add the gravy and cream, cover with a puff-crust, and bake for 1 to 1-1/2 hour: should the pie be very large, allow 2 hours. The pieces of rolled veal should be about 3 inches in length, and about 3 inches round. _Time_.--Moderate-sized pie, 1 to 1-1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ from March to October. FRIED PATTIES (Cold Meat Cookery). 896. INGREDIENTS.--Cold roast veal, a few slices of cold ham, 1 egg boiled hard, pounded mace, pepper and salt to taste, gravy, cream, 1 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, good puff-paste. _Mode_.--Mince a little cold veal and ham, allowing one-third ham to two-thirds veal; add an egg boiled hard and chopped, and a seasoning of pounded mace, salt, pepper, and lemon-peel; moisten with a little gravy and cream. Make a good puff-paste; roll rather thin, and cut it into round or square pieces; put the mince between two of them, pinch the edges to keep in the gravy, and fry a light brown. They may be also baked in patty-pans: in that case, they should be brushed over with the yolk of an egg before they are put in the oven. To make a variety, oysters may be substituted for the ham. _Time_.--15 minutes to fry the patties. _Seasonable_ from March to October. VEAL PIE. 897. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of veal cutlets, 1 or 2 slices of lean bacon or ham, pepper and salt to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced savoury herbs, 2 blades of pounded mace, crust, 1 teacupful of gravy. _Mode_.--Cut the cutlets into square pieces, and season them with pepper, salt, and pounded mace; put them in a pie-dish with the savoury herbs sprinkled over, and 1 or 2 slices of lean bacon or ham placed at the top: if possible, this should be previously cooked, as undressed bacon makes the veal red, and spoils its appearance. Pour in a little water, cover with crust, ornament it in any way that is approved; brush it over with the yolk of an egg, and bake in a well-heated oven for about 1-1/2 hour. Pour in a good gravy after baking, which is done by removing the top ornament, and replacing it after the gravy is added. _Time_.--About 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. A VERY VEAL DINNER.--At a dinner given by Lord Polkemmet, a Scotch nobleman and judge, his guests saw, when the covers were removed, that the fare consisted of veal broth, a roasted fillet of veal, veal cutlets, a veal pie, a calf's head, and calf's-foot jelly. The judge, observing the surprise of his guests, volunteered an explanation.--"Oh, ay, it's a' cauf; when we kill a beast, we just eat up ae side, and doun the tither." VEAL AND HAM PIE. 898. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of veal cutlets, 1/2 lb. of boiled ham, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced savoury herbs, 1/4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 2 blades of pounded mace, pepper and salt to taste, a strip of lemon-peel finely minced, the yolks of 2 hard-boiled eggs, 1/2 pint of water, nearly 1/2 pint of good strong gravy, puff-crust. _Mode_.--Cut the veal into nice square pieces, and put a layer of them at the bottom of a pie-dish; sprinkle over these a portion of the herbs, spices, seasoning, lemon-peel, and the yolks of the eggs cut in slices; cut the ham very thin, and put a layer of this in. Proceed in this manner until the dish is full, so arranging it that the ham comes at the top. Lay a puff-paste on the edge of the dish, and pour in about 1/2 pint of water; cover with crust, ornament it with leaves, brush it over with the yolk of an egg, and bake in a well-heated oven for 1 to 1-1/2 hour, or longer, should the pie be very large. When it is taken out of the oven, pour in at the top, through a funnel, nearly 1/2 pint of strong gravy: this should be made sufficiently good that, when cold, it may cut in a firm jelly. This pie may be very much enriched by adding a few mushrooms, oysters, or sweetbreads; but it will be found very good without any of the last-named additions. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour, or longer, should the pie be very large. _Average cost_, 3s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. POTTED VEAL (for Breakfast). 899. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of veal allow 1/4 lb. of ham, cayenne and pounded mace to taste, 6 oz. of fresh butter; clarified butter. _Mode_.--Mince the veal and ham together as finely as possible, and pound well in a mortar, with cayenne, pounded mace, and fresh butter in the above proportion. When reduced to a perfectly smooth paste, press it into potting-pots, and cover with clarified butter. If kept in a cool place, it will remain good some days. _Seasonable_ from March to October. NAMES OF CALVES, &c.--During the time the young male calf is suckled by his mother, he is called a bull-or ox-calf; when turned a year old, he is called a stirk, stot, or yearling; on the completion of his second year, he is called a two-year-old bull or steer (and in some counties a twinter); then, a three-year-old steer; and at four, an ox or a bullock, which latter names are retained till death. It may be here remarked, that the term ox is used as a general or common appellation for neat cattle, in a specific sense, and irrespective of sex; as the British ox, the Indian ox. The female is termed cow, but while sucking the mother, a cow-calf; at the age of a year, she is called a yearling quey; in another year, a heifer, or twinter; then, a three-year-old quey or twinter; and, at four years old, a cow. Other names, to be regarded as provincialisms, may exist in different districts. RAGOUT OF COLD VEAL (Cold Meat Cookery). 900. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold veal, 1 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of gravy, thickening of butter and flour, pepper and salt to taste, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, 1 tablespoonful of sherry, 1 dessertspoonful of lemon-juice, forcemeat balls. _Mode_.--Any part of veal will make this dish. Cut the meat into nice-looking pieces, put them in a stewpan with 1 oz. of butter, and fry a light brown; add the gravy (hot water may be substituted for this), thicken with a little butter and flour, and stew gently about 1/4 hour; season with pepper, salt, and pounded mace; add the ketchup, sherry, and lemon-juice; give one boil, and serve. Garnish the dish with forcemeat balls and fried rashers of bacon. _Time_.--Altogether 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold meat, 6d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. _Note_.--The above recipe may be varied, by adding vegetables, such as peas, cucumbers, lettuces, green onions cut in slices, a dozen or two of green gooseberries (not seedy), all of which should be fried a little with the meat, and then stewed in the gravy. VEAL RISSOLES (Cold Meat Cookery). 901. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of cold roast veal, a few slices of ham or bacon, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, 1 tablespoonful of minced savoury herbs, 1 blade of pounded mace, a very little grated nutmeg, cayenne and salt to taste, 2 eggs well beaten, bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Mince the veal very finely with a little ham or bacon; add the parsley, herbs, spices, and seasoning; mix into a paste with an egg; form into balls or cones; brush these over with egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs, and fry a rich brown. Serve with brown gravy, and garnish the dish with fried parsley. _Time_.--About 10 minutes to fry the rissoles. _Seasonable_ from March to October. VEAL ROLLS (Cold Meat Cookery). 902. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of a cold fillet of veal, egg and bread crumbs, a few slices of fat bacon, forcemeat No. 417. _Mode_.--Cut a few slices from a cold fillet of veal 1/2 inch thick; rub them over with egg; lay a thin slice of fat bacon over each piece of veal; brush these with the egg, and over this spread the forcemeat thinly; roll up each piece tightly, egg and bread crumb them, and fry them a rich brown. Serve with mushroom sauce or brown gravy. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes to fry the rolls. _Seasonable_ from March to October. SHOULDER OF VEAL, Stuffed and Stewed. 903. INGREDIENTS.--A shoulder of veal, a few slices of ham or bacon, forcemeat No. 417, 3 carrots, 2 onions, salt and pepper to taste, a faggot of savoury herbs, 3 blades of pounded mace, water, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Bone the joint by carefully detaching the meat from the blade-bone on one side, and then on the other, being particular not to pierce the skin; then cut the bone from the knuckle, and take it out. Fill the cavity whence the bone was taken with a forcemeat made by recipe No. 417. Roll and bind the veal up tightly; put it into a stew-pan with the carrots, onions, seasoning, herbs, and mace; pour in just sufficient water to cover it, and let it stew _very gently_ for about 5 hours. Before taking it up, try if it is properly done by thrusting a larding-needle in it: if it penetrates easily, it is sufficiently cooked. Strain and skim the gravy, thicken with butter and flour, give one boil, and pour it round the meat. A few young carrots may be boiled and placed round the dish as a garnish, and, when in season, green peas should always be served with this dish. _Time_.--5 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 8 or 9 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to October. THE FATTENING OF CALVES.--The fattening of calves for the market is an important business in Lanarkshire or Clydesdale, and numbers of newly-dropped calves are regularly carried there from the farmers of the adjacent districts, in order to be prepared for the butcher. The mode of feeding them is very simple; milk is the chief article of their diet, and of this the calves require a sufficient supply from first to last. Added to this, they must be kept in a well-aired place, neither too hot nor too cold, and freely supplied with dry litter. It is usual to exclude the light,--at all events to a great degree, and to put within their reach a lump of chalk, which they are very fond of licking. Thus fed, calves, at the end of 8 or 9 weeks, often attain a very large size; viz., 18 to 20 stone, exclusive of the offal. Far heavier weights have occurred, and without any deterioration in the delicacy and richness of the flesh. This mode of feeding upon milk alone at first appears to be very expensive, but it is not so, when all things are taken into consideration; for at the age of 9 or 10 weeks a calf, originally purchased for 8 shillings, will realize nearly the same number of pounds. For 4, or even 6 weeks, the milk of one cow is sufficient,--indeed half that quantity is enough for the first fortnight; but after the 5th or 6th week it will consume the greater portion of the milk of two moderate cows; but then it requires neither oil-cake nor linseed, nor any other food. Usually, however, the calves are not kept beyond the age of 6 weeks, and will then sell for 5 or 6 pounds each: the milk of the cow is then ready for a successor. In this manner a relay of calves may be prepared for the markets from early spring to the end of summer, a plan more advantageous than that of overfeeding one to a useless degree of corpulency. VEAL SAUSAGES. 904. INGREDIENTS.--Equal quantities of fat bacon and lean veal; to every lb. of meat, allow 1 teaspoonful of minced sage, salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Chop the meat and bacon finely, and to every lb. allow the above proportion of very finely-minced sage; add a seasoning of pepper and salt, mix the whole well together, make it into flat cakes, and fry a nice brown. _Seasonable_ from March to October. STEWED VEAL, with Peas, young Carrots, and new Potatoes. 905. INGREDIENTS.--3 or 4 lbs. of the loin or neck of veal, 15 young carrots, a few green onions, 1 pint of green peas, 12 new potatoes, a bunch of savoury herbs, pepper and salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 2 tablespoonfuls of tomato sauce, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Dredge the meat with flour, and roast or bake it for about 3/4 hour: it should acquire a nice brown colour. Put the meat into a stewpan with the carrots, onions, potatoes, herbs, pepper, and salt; pour over it sufficient boiling water to cover it, and stew gently for 2 hours. Take out the meat and herbs, put it in a deep dish, skim off all the fat from the gravy, and flavour it with lemon-juice, tomato sauce, and mushroom ketchup in the above proportion. Have ready a pint of green peas boiled; put these with the meat, pour over it the gravy, and serve. The dish may be garnished with a few forcemeat balls. The meat, when preferred, may be cut into chops, and floured and fried instead of being roasted; and any part of veal dressed in this way will be found extremely savoury and good. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_, with peas, from June to August. BAKED SWEETBREADS (an Entree). 906. INGREDIENTS.--3 sweetbreads, egg and bread crumbs, oiled butter, 3 slices of toast, brown gravy. [Illustration: SWEETBREADS.] _Mode_.--Choose large white sweetbreads; put them into warm water to draw out the blood, and to improve their colour; let them remain for rather more than 1 hour; then put them into boiling water, and allow them to simmer for about 10 minutes, which renders them firm. Take them up, drain them, brush over with egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs; dip them in egg again, and then into more bread crumbs. Drop on them a little oiled butter, and put the sweetbreads into a moderately-heated oven, and let them bake for nearly 3/4 hour. Make 3 pieces of toast; place the sweetbreads on the toast, and pour round, but not over them, a good brown gravy. _Time_.--To soak 1 hour, to be boiled 10 minutes, baked 40 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. to 5s. _Sufficient_ for an entrée. _Seasonable_.--In full season from May to August. FRIED SWEETBREADS a la Maitre d'Hotel (an Entree). 907. INGREDIENTS.--3 sweetbreads, egg and bread crumbs, 1/4 lb. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, rather more than 1/2 pint of Maître d'hôtel sauce No. 466. _Mode_.--Soak the sweetbreads in warm water for an hour; then boil them for 10 minutes; cut them in slices, egg and bread crumb them, season with pepper and salt, and put them into a frying-pan, with the above proportion of butter. Keep turning them until done, which will be in about 10 minutes; dish them, and pour over them a Maître d'hôtel sauce, made by recipe No. 466. The dish may be garnished with slices of cut lemon. _Time_.--To soak 1 hour, to be broiled 10 minutes, to be fried about 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. to 5s., according to the season. _Sufficient_ for an entrée. _Seasonable_.--In full season from May to August. _Note_.--The egg and bread crumb may be omitted, and the slices of sweetbread dredged with a little flour instead, and a good gravy may be substituted for the _maitre d'hôtel_ sauce. This is a very simple method of dressing them. STEWED SWEETBREADS (an Entree). 908. INGREDIENTS.--3 sweetbreads, 1 pint of white stock No. 107, thickening of butter and flour, 6 tablespoonfuls of cream, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1 blade of pounded mace, white pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Soak the sweetbreads in warm water for 1 hour, and boil them for 10 minutes; take them out, put them into cold water for a few minutes; lay them in a stewpan with the stock, and simmer them gently for rather more than 1/2 hour. Dish them; thicken the gravy with a little butter and flour; let it boil up, add the remaining ingredients, allow the sauce to get quite _hot_, but _not boil_, and pour it over the sweetbreads. _Time_.--To soak 1 hour, to be boiled 10 minutes, stewed rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 5s., according to the season. _Sufficient_ for an entrée. _Seasonable_.--In full season from May to August. _Note_.--A few mushrooms added to this dish, and stewed with the sweetbreads, will be found an improvement. SEASON AND CHOICE OF VEAL.--Veal, like all other meats, has its season of plenty. The best veal, and the largest supply, are to be had from March to the end of July. It comes principally from the western counties, and is generally of the Alderney breed. In purchasing veal, its whiteness and fineness of grain should be considered, the colour being especially of the utmost consequence. Veal may be bought at all times of the year and of excellent quality, but is generally very dear, except in the months of plenty. STEWED TENDRONS DE VEAU (an Entree). 909. INGREDIENTS.--The gristles from 2 breasts of veal, stock No. 107, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, 2 blades of pounded mace, 4 cloves, 2 carrots, 2 onions, a strip of lemon-peel. _Mode_.--The _tendrons_ or gristles, which are found round the front of a breast of veal, are now very frequently served as an entrée, and when well dressed, make a nice and favourite dish. Detach the gristles from the bone, and cut them neatly out, so as not to spoil the joint for roasting or stewing. Put them into a stewpan, with sufficient stock, No. 107, to cover them; add the herbs, mace, cloves, carrots, onions, and lemon, and simmer these for nearly, or quite, 4 hours. They should be stewed until a fork will enter the meat easily. Take them up, drain them, strain the gravy, boil it down to a glaze, with which glaze the meat. Dish the _tendrons_ in a circle, with croûtons fried of a nice colour placed between each; and put mushroom sauce, or a purée of green peas or tomatoes, in the middle. _Time_.--4 hours. _Sufficient_ for one entrée. _Seasonable_.--With peas, from June to August. COW-POX, OR VARIOLA.--It is to Dr. Jenner, of Berkeley, Gloucestershire, who died in 1823, that we owe the practice of vaccination, as a preservative from the attack of that destructive scourge of the human race, the small-pox. The experiments of this philosophic man were begun in 1797, and published the next year. He had observed that cows were subject to a certain infectious eruption of the teats, and that those persons who became affected by it, while milking the cattle, escaped the small-pox raging around them. This fact, known to farmers from time immemorial, led him to a course of experiments, the result of which all are acquainted with. TENDRONS DE VEAU (an Entree). 910. INGREDIENTS.--The gristles from 2 breasts of veal, stock No. 107, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, 1 blade of pounded mace, 4 cloves, 2 carrots, 2 onions, a strip of lemon-peel, egg and bread crumbs, 2 tablespoonfuls of chopped mushrooms, salt and pepper to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of sherry, the yolk of 1 egg, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream. _Mode_.--After removing the gristles from a breast of veal, stew them for 4 hours, as in the preceding recipe, with stock, herbs, mace, cloves, carrots, onions, and lemon-peel. When perfectly tender, lift them out and remove any bones or hard parts remaining. Put them between two dishes, with a weight on the top, and when cold, cut them into slices. Brush these over with egg, sprinkle with bread crumbs, and fry a pale brown. Take 1/2 pint of the gravy they were boiled in, add 2 tablespoonfuls of chopped mushrooms, a seasoning of salt and pepper, the sherry, and the yolk of an egg beaten with 3 tablespoonfuls of cream. Stir the sauce over the fire until it thickens; when it is on the _point of boiling_, dish the tendrons in a circle, and pour the sauce in the middle. Tendrons are dressed in a variety of ways,--with sauce à l'Espagnole, vegetables of all kinds: when they are served with a purée, they should always be glazed. _Time_.--4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_.--Usually bought with breast of veal. _Sufficient_ for an entrée. _Seasonable_ from March to October. TETE DE VEAU EN TORTUE (an Entree). 911. INGREDIENTS.--Half a calf's head, or the remains of a cold boiled one; rather more than 1 pint of good white stock, No. 107, 1 glass of sherry or Madeira, cayenne and salt to taste, about 12 mushroom-buttons (when obtainable), 6 hard-boiled eggs, 4 gherkins, 8 quenelles or forcemeat balls, No. 422 or 423, 12 crayfish, 12 croûtons. _Mode_.--Half a calf's head is sufficient to make a good entrée, and if there are any remains of a cold one left from the preceding day, it will answer very well for this dish. After boiling the head until tender, remove the bones, and cut the meat into neat pieces; put the stock into a stewpan, add the wine, and a seasoning of salt and cayenne; fry the mushrooms in butter for 2 or 3 minutes, and add these to the gravy. Boil this quickly until somewhat reduced; then put in the yolks of the hard-boiled eggs _whole_, the whites cut in small pieces, and the gherkins chopped. Have ready a few veal quenelles, made by recipe No. 422 or 423; add these, with the slices of head, to the other ingredients, and let the whole get thoroughly hot, _without boiling_. Arrange the pieces of head as high in the centre of the dish as possible; pour over them the ragout, and garnish with the crayfish and croûtons placed alternately. A little of the gravy should also be served in a tureen. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour to reduce the stock. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Average cost_, exclusive of the calf's head, 2s. 9d. _Seasonable_ from March to October. A FRENCHMAN'S OPINION OF VEAL.--A great authority in his native Paris tells us, that veal, as a meat, is but little nourishing, is relaxing, and sufficiently difficult of digestion. Lending itself, as it does, he says, in all the flowery imagery of the French tongue and manner, "to so many metamorphoses, it may be called, without exaggeration, the chameleon of the kitchen. Who has not eaten calf's head _au naturel_, simply boiled with the skin on, its flavour heightened by sauce just a little sharp? It is a dish as wholesome as it is agreeable, and one that the most inexperienced cook may serve with success. Calf's feet _à la poulette_, _au gratin_, fried, &c.; _les cervelles_, served in the same manner, and under the same names; sweetbreads _en fricandeau_, _piqués en fin_,--all these offer most satisfactory entrées, which the art of the cook, more or less, varies for the gratification of his glory and the well-being of our appetites. We have not spoken, in the above catalogue, either of the liver, or of the _fraise_, or of the ears, which also share the honour of appearing at our tables. Where is the man not acquainted with calf's liver _à la bourgeoise_, the most frequent and convenient dish at unpretentious tables? The _fraise_, cooked in water, and eaten with vinegar, is a wholesome and agreeable dish, and contains a mucilage well adapted for delicate persons. Calf's ears have, in common with the feet and _cervelles_, the advantage of being able to be eaten either fried or _à la poulette_; and besides, can be made into a _farce_, with the addition of peas, onions, cheese, &c. Neither is it confined to the calf's tongue, or even the eyes, that these shall dispute alone the glory of awakening the taste of man; thus, the _fressure_ (which, as is known, comprises the heart, the _mou_, and the _rate_), although not a very recherché dish, lends itself to all the caprices of an expert artist, and may, under various marvellous disguises, deceive, and please, and even awaken our appetite."--Verily, we might say, after this rhapsody of our neighbour, that his country's weal will not suffer in him as an able and eloquent exponent and admirer. VEAL CARVING. BREAST OF VEAL. [Illustration: BREAST OF VEAL.] 912. The carving of a breast of veal is not dissimilar to that of a fore-quarter of lamb, when the shoulder has been taken off. The breast of veal consists of two parts,--the rib-bones and the gristly brisket. These two parts should first be separated by sharply passing the knife in the direction of the lines 1, 2; when they are entirely divided, the rib-bones should be carved in the direction of the lines 5 to 6; and the brisket can be helped by cutting pieces in the direction 3 to 4. The carver should ask the guests whether they have a preference for the brisket or ribs; and if there be a sweetbread served with the dish, as it often is with roast breast of veal, each person should receive a piece. CALF'S HEAD. [Illustration: CALF'S HEAD.] 913. This is not altogether the most easy-looking dish to cut when it is put before a carver for the first time; there is not much real difficulty in the operation, however, when the head has been attentively examined, and, after the manner of a phrenologist, you get to know its bumps, good and bad. In the first place, inserting the knife quite down to the bone, cut slices in the direction of the line 1 to 2; with each of these should be helped a piece of what is called the throat sweetbread, cut in the direction of from 3 to 4. The eye, and the flesh round, are favourite morsels with many, and should be given to those at the table who are known to be the greatest connoisseurs. The jawbone being removed, there will then be found some nice lean; and the palate, which is reckoned by some a tit-bit, lies under the head. On a separate dish there is always served the tongue and brains, and each guest should be asked to take some of these. FILLET OF VEAL. [Illustration: FILLET OF VEAL.] 914. The carving of this joint is similar to that of a round of beef. Slices, not too thick, in the direction of the line 1 to 2 are cut; and the only point to be careful about is, that the veal be _evenly_ carved. Between the flap and the meat the stuffing is inserted, and a small portion of this should be served to every guest. The persons whom the host wishes most to honour should be asked if they like the delicious brown outside slice, as this, by many, is exceedingly relished. KNUCKLE OF VEAL. [Illustration: KNUCKLE OF VEAL.] 915. The engraving, showing the dotted line from 1 to 2, sufficiently indicates the direction which should be given to the knife in carving this dish. The best slices are those from the thickest part of the knuckle, that is, outside the line 1 to 2. LOIN OF VEAL. [Illustration: LOIN OF VEAL.] 916. As is the case with a loin of mutton, the careful jointing of a loin of veal is more than half the battle in carving it. If the butcher be negligent in this matter, he should be admonished; for there is nothing more annoying or irritating to an inexperienced carver than to be obliged to turn his knife in all directions to find the exact place where it should be inserted in order to divide the bones. When the jointing is properly performed, there is little difficulty in carrying the knife down in the direction of the line 1 to 2. To each guest should be given a piece of the kidney and kidney fat, which lie underneath, and are considered great delicacies. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XX. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON BIRDS. "Birds, the free tenants of land, air, and ocean, Their forms all symmetry, their motions grace; In plumage delicate and beautiful; Thick without burthen, close as fishes' scales, Or loose as full-blown poppies to the breeze." _The Pelican Island_. 917. THE DIVISIONS OF BIRDS are founded principally on their habits of life, and the natural resemblance which their external parts, especially their bills, bear to each other. According to Mr. Vigors, there are five orders, each of which occupies its peculiar place on the surface of the globe; so that the air, the forest, the land, the marsh, and the water, has each its appropriate kind of inhabitants. These are respectively designated as BIRDS OF PREY, PERCHERS, WALKERS, WADERS, and SWIMMERS; and, in contemplating their variety, lightness, beauty, and wonderful adaptation to the regions they severally inhabit, and the functions they are destined to perform in the grand scheme of creation, our hearts are lifted with admiration at the exhaustless ingenuity, power, and wisdom of HIM who has, in producing them, so strikingly "manifested His handiwork." Not only these, however, but all classes of animals, have their peculiar ends to fulfil; and, in order that this may be effectually performed, they are constructed in such a manner as will enable them to carry out their conditions. Thus the quadrupeds, that are formed to tread the earth in common with man, are muscular and vigorous; and, whether they have passed into the servitude of man, or are permitted to range the forest or the field, they still retain, in a high degree, the energies with which they were originally endowed. Birds, on the contrary, are generally feeble, and, therefore, timid. Accordingly, wings have been given them to enable them to fly through the air, and thus elude the force which, by nature, they are unable to resist. Notwithstanding the natural tendency of all bodies towards the centre of the earth, birds, when raised in the atmosphere, glide through it with the greatest ease, rapidity, and vigour. There, they are in their natural element, and can vary their course with the greatest promptitude--can mount or descend with the utmost facility, and can light on any spot with the most perfect exactness, and without the slightest injury to themselves. 918. THE MECHANISM WHICH ENABLES BIRDS to wing their course through the air, is both singular and instructive. Their bodies are covered with feathers, which are much lighter than coverings of hair, with which quadrupeds are usually clothed. The feathers are so placed as to overlap each other, like the slates or the tiles on the roof of a house. They are also arranged from the fore-part backwards; by which the animals are enabled the more conveniently to cut their way through the air. Their bones are tubular or hollow, and extremely light compared with those of terrestrial animals. This greatly facilitates their rising from the earth, whilst their heads, being comparatively small, their bills shaped like a wedge, their bodies slender, sharp below, and round above,--all these present a union of conditions, favourable, in the last degree, to cutting their way through the aërial element to which they are considered as more peculiarly to belong. With all these conditions, however, birds could not fly without wings. These, therefore, are the instruments by which they have the power of rapid locomotion, and are constructed in such a manner as to be capable of great expansion when struck in a downward direction. If we except, in this action, the slight hollow which takes place on the under-side, they become almost two planes. In order that the downward action may be accomplished to the necessary extent, the muscles which move the wings have been made exceedingly large; so large, indeed, that, in some instances, they have been estimated at not less than a sixth of the weight of the whole body. Therefore, when a bird is on the ground and intends to fly, it takes a leap, and immediately stretching its wings, strikes them out with great force. By this act these are brought into an oblique direction, being turned partly upwards and partly horizontally forwards. That part of the force which has the upward tendency is neutralized by the weight of the bird, whilst the horizontal force serves to carry it forward. The stroke being completed, it moves upon its wings, which, being contracted and having their edges turned upwards, obviate, in a great measure, the resistance of the air. When it is sufficiently elevated, it makes a second stroke downwards, and the impulse of the air again moves it forward. These successive strokes may be regarded as so many leaps taken in the air. When the bird desires to direct its course to the right or the left, it strikes strongly with the opposite wing, which impels it to the proper side. In the motions of the animal, too, the tail takes a prominent part, and acts like the rudder of a ship, except that, instead of sideways, it moves upwards and downwards. If the bird wishes to rise, it raises its tail; and if to fall, it depresses it; and, whilst in a horizontal position, it keeps it steady. There are few who have not observed a pigeon or a crow preserve, for some time, a horizontal flight without any apparent motion of the wings. This is accomplished by the bird having already acquired sufficient velocity, and its wings being parallel to the horizon, meeting with but small resistance from the atmosphere. If it begins to fall, it can easily steer itself upward by means of its tail, till the motion it had acquired is nearly spent, when it must be renewed by a few more strokes of the wings. On alighting, a bird expands its wings and tail fully against the air, as a ship, in tacking round, backs her sails, in order that they may meet with all the resistance possible. 919. IN THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE EYES of birds, there is a peculiarity necessary to their condition. As they pass a great portion of their lives among thickets and hedges, they are provided for the defence of their eyes from external injuries, as well as from the effects of the light, when flying in opposition to the rays of the sun, with a nictating or winking membrane, which can, at pleasure, be drawn over the whole eye like a curtain. This covering is neither opaque nor wholly pellucid, but is somewhat transparent; and it is by its means that the eagle is said to be able to gaze at the sun. "In birds," says a writer on this subject, "we find that the sight is much more piercing, extensive, and exact, than in the other orders of animals. The eye is much larger in proportion to the bulk of the head, than in any of these. This is a superiority conferred upon them not without a corresponding utility: it seems even indispensable to their safety and subsistence. Were this organ in birds dull, or in the least degree opaque, they would be in danger, from the rapidity of their motion, of striking against various objects in their flight. In this case their celerity, instead of being an advantage, would become an evil, and their flight be restrained by the danger resulting from it. Indeed we may consider the velocity with which an animal moves, as a sure indication of the perfection of its vision. Among the quadrupeds, the sloth has its sight greatly limited; whilst the hawk, as it hovers in the air, can espy a lark sitting on a clod, perhaps at twenty times the distance at which a man or a dog could perceive it." 920. AMONGST THE MANY PECULIARITIES IN THE CONSTRUCTION OF BIRDS, not the least is the mode by which their respiration is accomplished. This is effected by means of air-vessels, which extend throughout the body, and adhere to the under-surface of the bones. These, by their motion, force the air through the true lungs, which are very small, and placed in the uppermost part of the chest, and closely braced down to the back and ribs. The lungs, which are never expanded by air, are destined to the sole purpose of oxidizing the blood. In the experiments made by Mr. John Hunter, to discover the use of this general diffusion of air through the bodies of birds, he found that it prevents their respiration from being stopped or interrupted by the rapidity of their motion through a resisting medium. It is well known that, in proportion to celerity of motion, the air becomes resistive; and were it possible for a man to move with the swiftness of a swallow, as he is not provided with an internal construction similar to that of birds, the resistance of the air would soon suffocate him. 921. BIRDS ARE DISTRIBUTED OVER EVERY PART OF THE GLOBE, being found in the coldest as well as the hottest regions, although some species are restricted to particular countries, whilst others are widely dispersed. At certain seasons of the year, many of them change their abodes, and migrate to climates better adapted to their temperaments or modes of life, for a time, than those which they leave. Many of the birds of Britain, directed by an unerring instinct, take their departure from the island before the commencement of winter, and proceed to the more congenial warmth of Africa, to return with the next spring. The causes assigned by naturalists for this peculiarity are, either a deficiency of food, or the want of a secure asylum for the incubation and nourishment of their young. Their migrations are generally performed in large companies, and, in the day, they follow a leader, which is occasionally changed. During the night, many of the tribes send forth a continual cry, to keep themselves together; although one would think that the noise which must accompany their flight would be sufficient for that purpose. The flight of birds across the Mediterranean was noticed three thousand years ago, as we find it said in the book of Numbers, in the Scriptures, that "There went forth a wind from the Lord, and brought quails from the sea, and let them fall upon the camp, and a day's journey round about it, to the height of two cubits above the earth." 922. IF THE BEAUTY OF BIRDS were not a recommendation to their being universally admired, their general liveliness, gaiety, and song would endear them to mankind. It appears, however, from accurate observations founded upon experiment, that the notes peculiar to different kinds of birds are altogether acquired, and that they are not innate, any more than language is to man. The attempt of a nestling bird to sing has been compared to the endeavour of a child to talk. The first attempts do not seem to possess the slightest rudiments of the future song; but, as the bird grows older and becomes stronger, it is easily perceived to be aiming at acquiring the art of giving utterance to song. Whilst the scholar is thus endeavouring to form his notes, when he is once sure of a passage, he usually raises his tone, but drops it again when he finds himself unequal to the voluntary task he has undertaken. "Many well-authenticated facts," says an ingenious writer, "seem decisively to prove that birds have no innate notes, but that, like mankind, the language of those to whose care they have been committed at their birth, will be their language in after-life." It would appear, however, somewhat unaccountable why, in a wild state, they adhere so steadily to the song of their own species only, when the notes of so many others are to be heard around them. This is said to arise from the attention paid by the nestling bird to the instructions of its own parent only, generally disregarding the notes of all the rest. Persons; however, who have an accurate ear, and who have given their attention to the songs of birds, can frequently distinguish some which have their notes mixed with those of another species; but this is in general so trifling, that it can hardly be considered as more than the mere varieties of provincial dialects. 923. IN REFERENCE TO THE FOOD OF BIRDS, we find that it varies, as it does in quadrupeds, according to the species. Some are altogether carnivorous; others, as so many of the web-footed tribes, subsist on fish; others, again, on insects and worms; and others on grain and fruit. The extraordinary powers of the gizzard of the granivorous tribes, in comminuting their food so as to prepare it for digestion, would, were they not supported by incontrovertible facts founded on experiment, appear to exceed all credibility. Tin tubes, full of grain, have been forced into the stomachs of turkeys, and in twenty-four hours have been found broken, compressed, and distorted into every shape. Twelve small lancets, very sharp both at the point and edges, have been fixed in a ball of lead, covered with a case of paper, and given to a turkey-cock, and left in its stomach for eight hours. After that time the stomach was opened, when nothing appeared except the naked ball. The twelve lancets were broken to pieces, whilst the stomach remained perfectly sound and entire. From these facts, it is concluded that the stones, so frequently found in the stomachs of the feathered tribes, are highly useful in assisting the gastric juices to grind down the grain and other hard substances which constitute their food. The stones, themselves, being also ground down and separated by the powerful action of the gizzard, are mixed with the food, and, no doubt, contribute very greatly to the health, as well as to the nourishment of the animals. 924. ALL BIRDS BEING OVIPAROUS, the eggs which they produce after the process of incubation, or sitting for a certain length of time, are, in the various species, different both in figure and colour, as well as in point of number. They contain the elements of the future young, for the perfecting of which in the incubation a bubble of air is always placed at the large end, between the shell and the inside skin. It is supposed that from the heat communicated by the sitting bird to this confined air, its spring is increased beyond its natural tenor, and, at the same time, its parts are put into motion by the gentle rarefaction. By this means, pressure and motion are communicated to the parts of the egg, which, in some inscrutable way, gradually promote the formation and growth of the young, till the time comes for its escaping from the shell. To preserve an egg perfectly fresh, and even fit for incubation, for 5 or 6 months after it has been laid, Réaumur, the French naturalist, has shown that it is only necessary to stop up its pores with a slight coating of varnish or mutton-suet. 925. BIRDS HOWEVER, DO NOT LAY EGGS before they have some place to put them; accordingly, they construct nests for themselves with astonishing art. As builders, they exhibit a degree of architectural skill, niceness, and propriety, that would seem even to mock the imitative talents of man, however greatly these are marked by his own high intelligence and ingenuity. "Each circumstance Most artfully contrived to favour warmth. Here read the reason of the vaulted roof; How Providence compensates, ever kind, The enormous disproportion that subsists Between the mother and the numerous brood Which her small bulk must quicken into life." In building their nests, the male and female generally assist each other, and they contrive to make the outside of their tenement bear as great a resemblance as possible to the surrounding foliage or branches; so that it cannot very easily be discovered even by those who are in search of it. This art of nidification is one of the most wonderful contrivances which the wide field of Nature can show, and which, of itself, ought to be sufficient to compel mankind to the belief, that they and every other part of the creation, are constantly under the protecting power of a superintending Being, whose benign dispensations seem as exhaustless as they are unlimited. [Illustration] RECIPES. CHAPTER XXI. CHICKEN CUTLETS (an Entree). 926. INGREDIENTS.--2 chickens; seasoning to taste of salt, white pepper, and cayenne; 2 blades of pounded mace, egg and bread crumbs, clarified butter, 1 strip of lemon-rind, 2 carrots, 1 onion, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup, thickening of butter and flour, 1 egg. _Mode_.--Remove the breast and leg bones of the chickens; cut the meat into neat pieces after having skinned it, and season the cutlets with pepper, salt, pounded mace, and cayenne. Put the bones, trimmings, &c., into a stewpan with 1 pint of water, adding carrots, onions, and lemon-peel in the above proportion; stew gently for 1-1/2 hour, and strain the gravy. Thicken it with butter and flour, add the ketchup and 1 egg well beaten; stir it over the fire, and bring it to the simmering-point, but do not allow it to boil. In the mean time, egg and bread-crumb the cutlets, and give them a few drops of clarified butter; fry them a delicate brown, occasionally turning them; arrange them pyramidically on the dish, and pour over them the sauce. _Time_.--10 minutes to fry the cutlets. _Average cost_, 2s. each. _Sufficient_ for an entrée. _Seasonable_ from April to July. FOWLS AS FOOD.--Brillat Savarin, pre-eminent in gastronomic taste, says that he believes the whole gallinaceous family was made to enrich our larders and furnish our tables; for, from the quail to the turkey, he avers their flesh is a light aliment, full of flavour, and fitted equally well for the invalid as for the man of robust health. The fine flavour, however, which Nature has given to all birds coming under the definition of poultry, man has not been satisfied with, and has used many means--such as keeping them in solitude and darkness, and forcing them to eat--to give them an unnatural state of fatness or fat. This fat, thus artificially produced, is doubtless delicious, and the taste and succulence of the boiled and roasted bird draw forth the praise of the guests around the table. Well-fattened and tender, a fowl is to the cook what the canvas is to the painter; for do we not see it served boiled, roasted, fried, fricasseed, hashed, hot, cold, whole, dismembered, boned, broiled, stuffed, on dishes, and in pies,--always handy and ever acceptable? THE COMMON OR DOMESTIC FOWL.--From time immemorial, the common or domestic fowl has been domesticated in England, and is supposed to be originally the offspring of some wild species which abound in the forests of India. It is divided into a variety of breeds, but the most esteemed are, the Poland or Black, the Dorking, the Bantam, the Game Fowl, and the Malay or Chittagong. The common, or barn-door fowl, is one of the most delicate of the varieties; and at Dorking, in Surrey, the breed is brought to great perfection. Till they are four months old, the term chicken is applied to the young female; after that age they are called pullets, till they begin to lay, when they are called hens. The English counties most productive in poultry are Surrey, Sussex, Norfolk, Herts, Devon, and Somerset. FRENCH CHICKEN CUTLETS (Cold Meat Cookery). 927. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast or boiled fowl, fried bread, clarified butter, the yolk of 1 egg, bread crumbs, 1/2 teaspoonful of finely-minced lemon-peel; salt, cayenne, and mace to taste. For sauce,--1 oz. of butter, 2 minced shalots, a few slices of carrot, a small bunch of savoury herbs, including parsley, 1 blade of pounded mace, 6 peppercorns, 1/4 pint of gravy. _Mode_.--Cut the fowls into as many nice cutlets as possible; take a corresponding number of sippets about the same size, all cut one shape; fry them a pale brown, put them before the fire, then dip the cutlets into clarified butter mixed with the yolk of an egg, cover with bread crumbs seasoned in the above proportion, with lemon-peel, mace, salt, and cayenne; fry them for about 5 minutes, put each piece on one of the sippets, pile them high in the dish, and serve with the following sauce, which should be made ready for the cutlets. Put the butter into a stewpan, add the shalots, carrot, herbs, mace, and peppercorns; fry for 10 minutes or rather longer; pour in 1/2 pint of good gravy, made of the chicken bones, stew gently for 20 minutes, strain it, and serve. _Time_.--5 minutes to fry the cutlets; 35 minutes to make the gravy. _Average cost_, exclusive of the chicken, 9d. _Seasonable_ from April to July. EGGS FOR HATCHING.--Eggs intended for hatching should be removed as soon as laid, and placed in bran in a dry, cool place. Choose those that are near of a size; and, as a rule, avoid those that are equally thick at both ends,--such, probably, contain a double yolk, and will come to no good. Eggs intended for hatching should never be stored longer than a month, as much less the better. Nine eggs may be placed under a Bantam hen, and as many as fifteen under a Dorking. The odd number is considered preferable, as more easily packed. It will be as well to mark the eggs you give the hen to sit on, so that you may know if she lays any more: if she does, you must remove them; for, if hatched at all, they would be too late for the brood. If during incubation an egg should be broken, remove it, and take out the remainder, and cleanse them in luke-warm water, or it is probable the sticky nature of the contents of the broken egg will make the others cling to the hen's feathers; and they, too, may be fractured. HENS SITTING.--Some hens are very capricious as regards sitting; they will make a great fuss, and keep pining for the nest, and, when they are permitted to take to it, they will sit just long enough to addle the eggs, and then they're off again. The safest way to guard against such annoyance, is to supply the hen with some hard-boiled eggs; if she sits on them a reasonable time, and seems steadily inclined, like a good matron, you may then give her proper eggs, and let her set about the business in earnest. CHICKEN OR FOWL PATTIES. 928. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast chicken or fowl; to every 1/4 lb. of meat allow 2 oz. of ham, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream, 2 tablespoonfuls of veal gravy, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel; cayenne, salt, and pepper to taste; 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1 oz. of butter rolled in flour; puff paste. _Mode_.--Mince very small the white meat from a cold roast fowl, after removing all the skin; weigh it, and to every 1/4 lb. of meat allow the above proportion of minced ham. Put these into a stewpan with the remaining ingredients, stir over the fire for 10 minutes or 1/4 hour, taking care that the mixture does not burn. Roll out some puff paste about 1/4 inch in thickness; line the patty-pans with this, put upon each a small piece of bread, and cover with another layer of paste; brush over with the yolk of an egg, and bake in a brisk oven for about 1/4 hour. When done, cut a round piece out of the top, and, with a small spoon, take out the bread (be particular in not breaking the outside border of the crust), and fill the patties with the mixture. _Time_.--1/4 hour to prepare the meat; not quite 1/4 hour to bake the crust. _Seasonable_ at any time. HATCHING.--Sometimes the chick within the shell is unable to break away from its prison; for the white of the egg will occasionally harden in the air to the consistence of joiners' clue, when the poor chick is in a terrible fix. An able writer says, "Assistance in hatching must not be rendered prematurely, and thence unnecessarily, but only in the case of the chick being plainly unable to release itself; then, indeed, an addition may probably be made to the brood, as great numbers are always lost in this way. The chick makes a circular fracture at the big end of the egg, and a section of about one-third of the length of the shell being separated, delivers the prisoner, provided there is no obstruction from adhesion of the body to the membrane which lines the shell. Between the body of the chick and the membrane of the shell there exists a viscous fluid, the white of the egg thickened with the intense heat of incubation, until it becomes a positive glue. When this happens, the feathers stick fast to the shell, and the chicks remain confined, and must perish, if not released." The method of assistance to be rendered to chicks which have a difficulty in releasing themselves from the shell, is to take the egg in the hand, and dipping the finger or a piece of linen rag in warm water, to apply it to the fastened parts until they are loosened by the gluey substance becoming dissolved and separated from the feathers. The chick, then, being returned to the nest, will extricate itself,--a mode generally to be observed, since, if violence were used, it would prove fatal. Nevertheless, breaking the shell may sometimes be necessary; and separating with the fingers, as gently as may be, the membrane from the feathers, which are still to be moistened as mentioned above, to facilitate the operation. The points of small scissors may be useful, and when there is much resistance, as also apparent pain to the bird, the process must be conducted in the gentlest manner, and the shell separated into a number of small pieces. The signs of a need of assistance are the egg being partly pecked and chipped, and the cluck discontinuing its efforts for five of six hours. Weakness from cold may disable the chicken from commencing the operation of pecking the shell, which must then be artificially performed with a circular fracture, such as is made by the bird itself. CHICKEN OR FOWL PIE. 929. INGREDIENTS.--2 small fowls or 1 large one, white pepper and salt to taste, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded mace, forcemeat No. 417, a few slices of ham, 3 hard-boiled eggs, 1/2 pint of water, puff crust. _Mode_.--Skin and cut up the fowls into joints, and put the neck, leg, and backbones in a stewpan, with a little water, an onion, a bunch of savoury herbs, and a blade of mace; let these stew for about an hour, and, when done, strain off the liquor: this is for gravy. Put a layer of fowl at the bottom of a pie-dish, then a layer of ham, then one of forcemeat and hard-boiled eggs cut in rings; between the layers put a seasoning of pounded mace, nutmeg, pepper, and salt. Proceed in this manner until the dish is full, and pour in about 1/2 pint of water; border the edge of the dish with puff crust, put on the cover, ornament the top, and glaze it by brushing over it the yolk of an egg. Bake from 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour, should the pie be very large, and, when done, pour in, at the top, the gravy made from the bones. If to be eaten cold, and wished particularly nice, the joints of the fowls should be boned, and placed in the dish with alternate layers of forcemeat; sausage-meat may also be substituted for the forcemeat, and is now very much used. When the chickens are boned, and mixed with sausage-meat, the pie will take about 2 hours to bake. It should be covered with a piece of paper when about half-done, to prevent the paste from being dried up or scorched. _Time_.--For a pie with unboned meat, 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour; with boned meat and sausage or forcemeat, 1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, with 2 fowls, 6s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE YOUNG CHICKS.--The chicks that are hatched first should be taken from underneath the hen, lest she might think her task at an end, and leave the remaining eggs to spoil. As soon as the young birds are taken from the mother, they must be placed in a basket lined with soft wool, flannel, or hay, and stood in the sunlight if it be summer time, or by the fire if the weather be cold. It is a common practice to cram young chicks with food as soon as they are born. This is quite unnecessary. They will, so long as they are kept warm, come to no harm if they take no food for twenty-four hours following their birth. Should the whole of the brood not be hatched by that time, those that are born may be fed with bread soaked in milk, and the yolk of a hard-boiled egg. POTTED CHICKEN OR FOWL (a Luncheon or Breakfast Dish). 930. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast chicken; to every lb. of meat allow 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, salt and cayenne to taste, 1 teaspoonful of pounded mace, 1/4 small nutmeg. _Mode_.--Strip the meat from the bones of cold roast fowl; when it is freed from gristle and skin, weigh it, and, to every lb. of meat, allow the above proportion of butter, seasoning, and spices. Cut the meat into small pieces, pound it well with the fresh butter, sprinkle in the spices gradually, and keep pounding until reduced to a perfectly smooth paste. Put it into potting-pots for use, and cover it with clarified butter, about 1/4 inch in thickness, and, if to be kept for some time, tie over a bladder: 2 or 3 slices of ham, minced and pounded with the above ingredients, will be found an improvement. It should be kept in a dry place. _Seasonable_ at any time. FEEDING AND COOPING THE CHICKS.--When all the chicks are hatched, they should be placed along with the mother under a coop in a warm dry spot. If two hens happen to have their broods at the same time, their respective chicks should be carefully kept separate; as, if they get mixed, and so go under the wrong coop, the hens will probably maim and destroy those who have mistaken their dwelling. After being kept snug beneath the coop for a week (the coop should be placed under cover at nightfall), the chicks may be turned loose for an hour or so in the warmest part of the day. They should be gradually weaned from the soaked bread and chopped egg, instead of which grits or boiled barley should be given; in 8 or 10 days their stomachs will be strong enough to receive bruised barley, and at the end of 3 weeks, if your chicks be healthy, they will be able to take care of themselves. It will be well, however, to keep your eye on them a week or so longer, as the elder chickens may drive them from their food. Great care should be taken that the very young chicks do not run about the wet ground or on damp grass, as this is the most prominent and fatal cause of disease. While under the coop with their mother, a shallow pan or plate of water should be supplied to the chicks, as in a deeper vessel they are liable to drench themselves and take cold, or possibly to get drowned. CHICKEN OR FOWL SALAD. 931. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast or boiled chicken, 2 lettuces, a little endive, 1 cucumber, a few slices of boiled beetroot, salad-dressing No. 506. _Mode_.--Trim neatly the remains of the chicken; wash, dry, and slice the lettuces, and place in the middle of a dish; put the pieces of fowl on the top, and pour the salad-dressing over them. Garnish the edge of the salad with hard-boiled eggs cut in rings, sliced cucumber, and boiled beetroot cut in slices. Instead of cutting the eggs in rings, the yolks may be rubbed through a hair sieve, and the whites chopped very finely, and arranged on the salad in small bunches, yellow and white alternately. This should not be made long before it is wanted for table. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold chicken, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. AGE AND FLAVOUR OF CHICKENS.--It has been the opinion of the medical faculty of all ages and all countries, that the flesh of the young chicken is the must delicate and easy to digest of all animal food. It is less alkalescent than the flesh of any other animal, and its entire freedom from any irritating quality renders it a fit dish for the ailing, or those whose stomachs are naturally weak. In no animal, however, does age work such a change, in regard to the quality of its flesh, as it does in domestic fowls. In their infancy, cocks and hens are equally tender and toothsome; but as time overtakes them it is the cock whose flesh toughens first. A year-old cock, indeed, is fit for little else than to be converted into soup, while a hen at the same age, although sufficiently substantial, is not callous to the insinuations of a carving-knife. As regards capons, however, the rule respecting age does not hold good. There is scarcely to be found a more delicious animal than a well-fed, well-dressed capon. Age does not dry up his juices; indeed, like wine, he seems but to mellow. At three years old, even, he is as tender as a chick, with the additional advantage of his proper chicken flavour being fully developed. The above remarks, however, concerning the capon, only apply to such as are _naturally_ fed, and not crammed. The latter process may produce a handsome-looking bird, and it may weigh enough to satisfy the whim or avarice of its stuffer; but, when before the fire, it will reveal the cruel treatment to which it has been subjected, and will weep a drippingpan-ful of fat tears. You will never find heart enough to place such a grief-worn guest at the head of your table. It should be borne in mind as a rule, that small-boned and short-legged poultry are likely to excel the contrary sort in delicacy of colour, flavour, and fineness of flesh. HASHED DUCK (Cold Meat Cookery). 932. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast duck, rather more than 1 pint of weak stock or water, 1 onion, 1 oz. of butter, thickening of butter and flour, salt and cayenne to taste, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1 dessertspoonful of lemon-juice, 1/2 glass of port wine. _Mode_.--Cut the duck into nice joints, and put the trimmings into a stewpan; slice and fry the onion in a little butter; add these to the trimmings, pour in the above proportion of weak stock or water, and stew gently for 1 hour. Strain the liquor, thicken it with butter and flour, season with salt and cayenne, and add the remaining ingredients; boil it up and skim well; lay in the pieces of duck, and let them get thoroughly hot through by the side of the fire, but do not allow them to boil: they should soak in the gravy for about 1/2 hour. Garnish with sippets of toasted bread. The hash may be made richer by using a stronger and more highly-flavoured gravy; a little spice or pounded mace may also be added, when their flavour is liked. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold duck, 4d. _Seasonable_ from November to February; ducklings from May to August. THE DUCK.--This bird belongs to the order of _Natatores_, or Swimmers; the most familiar tribes of which are ducks, swans, geese, auks, penguins, petrels, pelicans, guillemots, gulls, and terns. They mostly live in the water, feeding on fish, worms, and aquatic plants. They are generally polygamous, and make their nests among reeds, or in moist places. The flesh of many of the species is eatable, but that of some is extremely rank and oily. The duck is a native of Britain, but is found on the margins of most of the European lakes. It is excessively greedy, and by no means a nice feeder. It requires a mixture of vegetable and animal food; but aquatic insects, corn, and vegetables, are its proper food. Its flesh, however, is savoury, being not so gross as that of the goose, and of easier digestion. In the green-pea season it is usually found on an English table; but, according to Ude, "November is its proper season, when it is plump and fat." TO RAGOUT A DUCK WHOLE. 933. INGREDIENTS.--1 large duck, pepper and salt to taste, good beef gravy, 2 onions sliced, 4 sage-leaves, a few leaves of lemon thyme, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--After having emptied and singed the duck, season it inside with pepper and salt, and truss it. Roast it before a clear fire for about 20 minutes, and let it acquire a nice brown colour. Put it into a stewpan with sufficient well-seasoned beef gravy to cover it; slice and fry the onions, and add these, with the sage-leaves and lemon thyme, both of which should be finely minced, to the stock. Simmer gently until the duck is tender; strain, skim, and thicken the gravy with a little butter and flour; boil it up, pour over the duck, and serve. When in season, about, 1-1/2 pint of young green peas, boiled separately, and put in the ragoût, very much improve this dish. _Time_.--20 minutes to roast the duck; 20 minutes to stew it. _Average cost_, from 2s. 3d. to 2s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to February; ducklings from April to August. [Illustration: BUENOS AYRES DUCKS.] THE BUENOS AYRES DUCK.--The Buenos Ayres duck is of East-Indian birth, and is chiefly valuable as an ornament; for we suppose one would as soon think of picking a Chinese teal for luncheon, or a gold fish for breakfast, as to consign the handsome Buenos Ayres to the spit. The prevailing colour of this bird is black, with a metallic lustre, and a gleaming of blue steel about its breast and wings. VARIETIES OF DUCKS.--Naturalists count nearly a hundred different species of ducks; and there is no doubt that the intending keeper of these harmless and profitable birds may easily take his choice from amongst twenty different sorts. There is, however, so little difference in the various members of the family, either as regards hardiness, laying, or hatching, that the most incompetent fancier or breeder may indulge his taste without danger of making a bad bargain. In connection with their value for table, light-coloured ducks are always of milder flavour than those that are dark-coloured, the white Aylesbury's being general favourites. Ducks reared exclusively on vegetable diet will have a whiter and more delicate flesh than those allowed to feed on animal offal; while the flesh of birds fattened on the latter food, will be firmer than that of those which have only partaken of food of a vegetable nature. ROAST DUCKS. 934. INGREDIENTS.--A couple of ducks; sage-and-onion stuffing No. 504; a little flour. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Choose ducks with plump bellies, and with thick and yellowish feet. They should be trussed with the feet on, which should be scalded, and the skin peeled off, and then turned up close to the legs. Run a skewer through the middle of each leg, after having drawn them as close as possible to the body, to plump up the breast, passing the same quite through the body. Cut off the heads and necks, and the pinions at the first joint; bring these close to the sides, twist the feet round, and truss them at the back of the bird. After the duck is stuffed, both ends should be secured with string, so as to keep in the seasoning. [Illustration: ROAST DUCK.] _Mode_.--To insure ducks being tender, never dress them the same day they are killed; and if the weather permits, they should hang a day or two. Make a stuffing of sage and onion sufficient for one duck, and leave the other unseasoned, as the flavour is not liked by everybody. Put them down to a brisk clear fire, and keep them well basted the whole of the time they are cooking. A few minutes before serving, dredge them lightly with flour, to make them froth and look plump; and when the steam draws towards the fire, send them to table hot and quickly, with a good brown gravy poured _round_, but not _over_ the ducks, and a little of the same in a tureen. When in season, green peas should invariably accompany this dish. _Time_.--Full-grown ducks from 3/4 to 1 hour; ducklings from 25 to 35 minutes. _Average cost_, from 2s. 3d. to 2s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_.--A. couple of ducks for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_.--Ducklings from April to August; ducks from November to February. _Note_.--Ducklings are trussed and roasted in the same manner, and served with the same sauces and accompaniments. When in season, serve apple sauce. [Illustration: ROUEN DUCKS.] THE ROUEN DUCK.--The Rouen, or Rhone duck, is a large and handsome variety, of French extraction. The plumage of the Rouen duck is somewhat sombre; its flesh is also much darker, and, though of higher flavour, not near so delicate as that of our own Aylesbury. It is with this latter breed that the Rouen duck is generally mated; and the result is said to be increase of size and strength. In Normandy and Brittany these ducks, as well as other sorts, greatly abound; and the "duck-liver _pâtés_" are there almost as popular as the _pâté de foie gras_ of Strasburg. In order to bring the livers of the wretched duck to the fashionable and unnatural size, the same diabolical cruelty is resorted to as in the case of the Strasburg goose. The poor birds are _nailed_ by the feet to a board placed close to a fire, and, in that position, plentifully supplied with food and water. In a few days, the carcase is reduced to a mere shadow, while the liver has grown monstrously. We would rather abstain from the acquaintance of a man who ate _pâté de foie gras_, knowing its component parts. DUCK'S EGGS.--The ancient notion that ducks whose beaks have a tendency to curve upwards, are better layers than those whose beaks do not thus point, is, we need hardly say, simply absurd: all ducks are good layers, if they are carefully fed and tended. Ducks generally lay at night, or early in the morning. While they are in perfect health, they will do this; and one of the surest signs of indisposition, among birds of this class, is irregularity in laying. The eggs laid will approach nearly the colour of the layer,--light-coloured ducks laying white eggs, and brown ducks greenish-blue eggs; dark-coloured birds laying the largest eggs. One time of day the notion was prevalent that a duck would hatch no other eggs than her own; and although this is not true, it will be, nevertheless, as well to match the duck's own eggs as closely as possible; for we have known instances wherein the duck has turned out of the nest and destroyed eggs differing from her own in size and colour. DUCKS.--The Mallard, or Wild Duck, from which is derived the domestic species, is prevalent throughout Europe, Asia, and America. The mallard's most remarkable characteristic is one which sets at defiance the speculations of the most profound ornithologist. The female bird is extremely plain, but the male's plumage is a splendour of greens and browns, and browns and blues. In the spring, however, the plumage of the male begins to fade, and in two months, every vestige of his finery has departed, and he is not to be distinguished from his soberly-garbed wife. Then the greens, and the blues, and the browns begin to bud out again, and by October he is once more a gorgeous drake. It is to be regretted that domestication has seriously deteriorated the moral character of the duck. In a wild state, he is a faithful husband, desiring but one wife, and devoting himself to her; but no sooner is he domesticated than he becomes polygamous, and makes nothing of owning ten or a dozen wives at a time. As regards the females, they are much more solicitous for the welfare of their progeny in a wild state than a tame. Should a tame duck's duckling get into mortal trouble, its mother will just signify her sorrow by an extra "quack," or so, and a flapping of her wings; but touch a wild duck's little one if you dare! she will buffet you with her broad wings, and dash boldly at your face with her stout beak. If you search for her nest amongst the long grass, she will try no end of manoeuvres to lure you from it, her favourite _ruse_ being to pretend lameness, to delude you into the notion that you have only to pursue _her_ vigorously, and her capture is certain; so you persevere for half a mile or so, and then she is up and away, leaving you to find your way back to the nest if you can. Among the ancients, opinion was at variance respecting the wholesomeness and digestibility of goose flesh, but concerning the excellence of the duck all parties were agreed; indeed, they not only assigned to duck-meat the palm for exquisite flavour and delicacy, they even attributed to it medicinal powers of the highest order. Not only the Roman medical writers of the time make mention of it, but likewise the philosophers of the period. Plutarch assures us that Cato preserved his whole household in health, in a season when plague and disease were rife, through dieting them on roast duck. STEWED DUCK AND PEAS (Cold Meat Cookery). 935. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast duck, 2 oz. of butter, 3 or 4 slices of lean ham or bacon, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 2 pints of thin gravy, 1, or a small bunch of green onions, 3 sprigs of parsley, 3 cloves, 1 pint of young green peas, cayenne and salt to taste, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Put the butter into a stewpan; cut up the duck into joints, lay them in with the slices of lean ham or bacon; make it brown, then dredge in a tablespoonful of flour, and stir this well in before adding the gravy. Put in the onion, parsley, cloves, and gravy, and when it has simmered for 1/4 hour, add a pint of young green peas, and stew gently for about 1/2 hour. Season with cayenne, salt, and sugar; take out the duck, place it round the dish, and the peas in the middle. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold duck, 1s. _Seasonable_ from June to August. DUCKS HATCHING.--Concerning incubation by ducks, a practised writer says, "The duck requires a secret and safe place, rather than any attendance, and will, at nature's call, cover her eggs and seek her food. On hatching, there is not often a necessity for taking away any of the brood; and, having hatched, let the mother retain her young ones upon the nest her own time. On her moving with her brood, let a coop be prepared upon the short grass, if the weather be fine, and under shelter, if otherwise." COOPING AND FEEDING DUCKLINGS.--Brood ducks should be cooped at some distance from any other. A wide and flat dish of water, to be often renewed, should stand just outside the coop, and barley, or any other meal, be the first food of the ducklings. It will be needful, if it be wet weather, to clip their tails, lest these draggle, and so weaken the bird. The period of the duck's confinement to the coop will depend on the weather, and on the strength of the ducklings. A fortnight is usually the extent of time necessary, and they may even be sometimes permitted to enjoy the luxury of a swim at the end of a week. They should not, however, be allowed to stay too long in the water at first; for they will then become ill, their feathers get rough, and looseness of the bowels ensue. In the latter case, let them be closely cooped for a few days, and bean-meal or oatmeal be mixed with their ordinary food. [Illustration: AYLESBURY DUCKS.] THE AYLESBURY DUCK.--The white Aylesbury duck is, and deservedly, a universal favourite. Its snowy plumage and comfortable comportment make it a credit to the poultry-yard, while its broad and deep breast, and its ample back, convey the assurance that your satisfaction will not cease at its death. In parts of Buckinghamshire, this member of the duck family is bred on an extensive scale; not on plains and commons, however, as might be naturally imagined, but in the abodes of the cottagers. Round the walls of the living-rooms, and of the bedroom even, are fixed rows of wooden boxes, lined with hay; and it is the business of the wife and children to nurse and comfort the feathered lodgers, to feed the little ducklings, and to take the old ones out for an airing. Sometimes the "stock" ducks are the cottager's own property, but it more frequently happens that they are intrusted to his care by a wholesale breeder, who pays him so much _per_ score for all ducklings properly raised. To be perfect, the Aylesbury duck should be plump, pure white, with yellow feet, and a flesh-coloured beak. STEWED DUCK AND PEAS (Cold Meat Cookery). 936. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast duck, 1/2 pint of good gravy, cayenne and salt to taste, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 2 oz, of butter rolled in flour, 1-1/2 pint of green peas. _Mode_.--Cut up the duck into joints, lay it in the gravy, and add a seasoning of cayenne, salt, and minced lemon-peel; let tins gradually warm through, but not boil. Throw the peas into boiling water slightly salted, and boil them rapidly until tender. Drain them, stir in the pounded sugar, and the butter rolled in flour; shake them over the fire for two or three minutes, and serve in the centre of the dish, with the duck laid round. _Time_.--15 minutes to boil the peas, when they are full grown. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold duck, 10d. _Seasonable_ from June to August. FATTENING DUCKS.--Many duck-keepers give their birds nothing in the shape of food, letting them wander about and pick up a living for themselves; and they will seem to get fat even upon this precarious feeding. Unless, however, ducks are supplied with, besides chance food, a liberal feed of solid corn, or grain, morning and evening, their flesh will become flabby and insipid. The simple way to fatten ducks is to let them have as much, substantial food as they will eat, bruised oats and pea-meal being the standard fattening food for them. No cramming is required, as with the turkey and some other poultry: they will cram themselves to the very verge of suffocation. At the same time, plenty of exercise and clean water should be at their service. AMERICAN MODE OF CAPTURING DUCKS.--On the American rivers, the modes of capture are various. Sometimes half a dozen artificial birds are fastened to a little raft, and which is so weighted that the sham birds squat naturally on the water. This is quite sufficient to attract the notice of a passing flock, who descend to cultivate the acquaintance of the isolated few when the concealed hunter, with his fowling-piece, scatters a deadly leaden shower amongst them. In the winter, when the water is covered with rubble ice, the fowler of the Delaware paints his canoe entirely white, lies flat in the bottom of it, and floats with the broken ice; from which the aquatic inhabitants fail to distinguish it. So floats the canoe till he within it understands, by the quacking, and fluttering, and whirring of wings, that he is in the midst of a flock, when he is up in a moment with the murderous piece, and dying quacks and lamentations rend the still air. [Illustration: BOW-BILL DUCKS.] Bow-BILL DUCKS, &c.--Every one knows how awkward are the _Anatidae_, waddling along on their unelastic webbed toes, and their short legs, which, being placed considerably backward, make the fore part of the body preponderate. Some, however, are formed more adapted to terrestrial habits than others, and notably amongst these may be named _Dendronessa sponsa_, the summer duck of America. This beautiful bird rears her young in the holes of trees, generally overhanging the water. When strong enough, the young scramble to the mouth of the hole, launch into the air with their little wings and feet spread out, and drop into their favourite element. Whenever their birthplace is at some distance from the water, the mother carries them to it, one by one, in her bill, holding them so as not to injure their yet tender frame. On several occasions, however, when the hole was 30, 40, or more yards from a piece of water, Audubon observed that the mother suffered the young to fall on the grass and dried leaves beneath the tree, and afterwards led them directly to the nearest edge of the next pool or creek. There are some curious varieties of the domestic duck, which only appear interesting from their singularity, for there does not seem to be anything of use or value in the unusual characteristics which distinguish them; thus, the bow-bill duck, as shown in the engraving, called by some writers the hook-bill, is remarkable for the peculiarly strange distortion of its beak, and the tuft on the top of its head. The penguin duck, again, waddles in an upright position, like the penguin, on account of the unnatural situation of its legs. These odd peculiarities add nothing of value to the various breeds, and may be set down as only the result of accidental malformation, transmitted from generation to generation. STEWED DUCK AND TURNIPS (Cold Meat Cookery). 937. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast duck, 1/2 pint of good gravy, 4 shalots, a few slices of carrot, a small bunch of savoury herbs, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 lb. of turnips, weighed after being peeled, 2 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut up the duck into joints, fry the shalots, carrots, and herbs, and put them, with the duck, into the gravy; add the pounded mace, and stew gently for 20 minutes or 1/2 hour. Cut about 1 lb. of turnips, weighed after being peeled, into 1/2-inch squares, put the butter into a stewpan, and stew them till quite tender, which will be in about 1/2 hour, or rather more; season with pepper and salt, and serve in the centre of the dish, with the duck, &c. laid round. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour to stew the turnips. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold duck, 1s. _Seasonable_ from November to February. THE WILD DUCK.--In many parts of England the wild duck is to be found, especially in those desolate fenny parts where water abounds. In Lincolnshire they are plentiful, and are annually taken in the decoys, which consist of ponds situate in the marshes, and surrounded with wood or reeds to prevent the birds which frequent them from, being disturbed. In these the birds sleep during the day; and as soon as evening sets in, the _decoy rises_, and the wild fowl feed during the night. Now is the time for the decoy ducks to entrap the others. From the ponds diverge, in different directions, certain canals, at the end of which funnel nets are placed; along these the _decoy ducks_, trained for the purpose, lead the others in search of food. After they have got a certain length, a decoy-man appears, and drives them further on, until they are finally taken in the nets. It is from these decoys, in Lincolnshire, that the London market is mostly supplied. The Chinese have a singular mode of catching these ducks. A person wades in the water up to the chin, and, having his head covered with an empty calabash, approaches the place where the ducks are. As the birds have no suspicion of the nature of the object which is concealed under the calabash, they suffer its approach, and allow it to move at will among their flock. The man, accordingly, walks about in the midst of his game, and, whenever he pleases, pulls them by the legs under the water, and fixes them to his belt, until he has secured as many as he requires, and then moves off as he went amongst them, without exciting the slightest suspicion of the trick he has been playing them. This singular mode of duck-hunting is also practised on the Ganges, the earthen vessels of the Hindoos being used instead of calabashes. These vessels, being those in which the inhabitants boil their rice, are considered, after once being used, as defiled, and are accordingly thrown into the river. The duck-takers, finding them suitable for their purpose, put them on their heads; and as the ducks, from seeing them constantly floating down the stream, are familiar with their appearance, they regard them as objects from which no danger is to be expected. [Illustration: CALL-DUCKS.] DUCK-SNARES IN THE LINCOLNSHIRE FENS.--The following interesting account of how duck-snaring used to be managed in the Lincolnshire fens, was published some years ago, in a work entitled the "Feathered Tribes."--"In the lakes to which they resorted, their favourite haunts were observed, and in the most sequestered part of a haunt, a pipe or ditch was cut across the entrance, decreasing gradually in width from the entrance to the further end, which was not more than two feet wide. The ditch was of a circular form, but did not bend much for the first ten yards. The banks of the lake on each side of the ditch were kept clear of weeds and close herbage, in order that the ducks might get on them to sit and dress themselves. Along the ditch, poles were driven into the ground close to the edge on each side, and the tops were bent over across the ditch and tied together. The poles then bent forward at the entrance to the ditch, and formed an arch, the top of which was tea feet distant from the surface of the water; the arch was made to decrease in height as the ditch decreased in width, so that the remote end was not more than eighteen inches in height. The poles were placed about six feet from each other, and connected by poles laid lengthwise across the arch, and tied together. Over the whole was thrown a net, which was made fast to a reed fence at the entrance and nine or ten yards up the ditch, and afterwards strongly pegged to the ground. At the end of the ditch furthest from the entrance, was fixed what was called a tunnel-net, of about four yards in length, of a round form, and kept open by a number of hoops about eighteen inches in diameter, placed at a small distance from each other to keep it distended. Supposing the circular bend of the ditch to be to the right, when one stands with his back to the lake, then on the left-hand side, a number of reed fences were constructed, called shootings, for the purpose of screening the decoy-man from observation, and, in such a manner, that the fowl in the decoy would not be alarmed while he was driving those that were in the pipe. These shootings, which were ten in number, were about four yards in length and about six feet high. From the end of the last shooting a person could not see the lake, owing to the bend of the ditch; and there was then no further occasion for shelter. Were it not for these shootings, the fowl that remained about the mouth of the ditch would have been alarmed, if the person driving the fowl already under the net should have been exposed, and would have become so shy as entirely to forsake the place." THE DECOY MAN, DOG, AND DUCKS.--"The first thing the decoy-man did, on approaching the ditch, was to take a piece of lighted peat or turf, and to hold it near his mouth, to prevent the birds from smelling him. He was attended by a dog trained to render him assistance. He walked very silently about halfway up the shootings, where a small piece of wood was thrust through the reed fence, which made an aperture just large enough to enable him to see if there were any fowl within; if not, he walked to see if any were about the entrance to the ditch. If there were, he stopped, made a motion to his dog, and gave him a piece of cheese to eat, when the dog went directly to a hole through the reed fence, and the birds immediately flew off the back into the water. The dog returned along the bank between the reed fences, and came out to his master at another hole. The man then gave the dog something more to encourage him, and the dog repeated his rounds, till the birds were attracted by his motions, and followed him into the mouth of the ditch--an operation which was called 'working them.' The man now retreated further back, working the dog at different holes, until the ducks were sufficiently under the net. He then commanded his dog to lie down under the fence, and going himself forward to the end of the ditch next the lake, he took off his hat, and gave it a wave between the shootings. All the birds that were under the net could then see him, but none that were in the lake could. The former flew forward, and the man then ran to the next shooting, and waved his hat, and so on, driving them along until they came into the tunnel-net, into which they crept. When they were all in, the man gave the net a twist, so as to prevent them getting back. He then took the net off from the end of the ditch, and taking out, one by one, the ducks that were in it, dislocated their necks." BOILED FOWLS OR CHICKENS. [Illustration: BOILED FOWL.] 938. INGREDIENTS.--A pair of fowls; water. _Choosing and Trussing_.--In choosing fowls for boiling, it should be borne in mind that those that are not black-legged are generally much whiter when dressed. Pick, draw, singe, wash, and truss them in the following manner, without the livers in the wings; and, in drawing, be careful not to break the gall-bladder:--Cut off the neck, leaving sufficient skin to skewer back. Cut the feet off to the first joint, tuck the stumps into a slit made on each side of the belly, twist the wings over the back of the fowl, and secure the top of the leg and the bottom of the wing together by running a skewer through them and the body. The other side must be done in the same manner. Should the fowl be very large and old, draw the sinews of the legs before tucking them in. Make a slit in the apron of the fowl, large enough to admit the parson's nose, and tie a string on the tops of the legs to keep them in their proper place. _Mode_.--When, they are firmly trussed, put them into a stewpan with plenty of hot water; bring it to boil, and carefully remove all the scum as it rises. _Simmer very gently_ until the fowl is tender, and bear in mind that the slower it boils, the plumper and whiter will the fowl be. Many cooks wrap them in a floured cloth to preserve the colour, and to prevent the scum from clinging to them; in this case, a few slices of lemon should be placed on the breasts; over these a sheet of buttered paper, and then the cloth; cooking them in this manner renders the flesh very white. Boiled ham, bacon, boiled tongue, or pickled pork, are the usual accompaniments to boiled fowls, and they may be served with Béchamel, white sauce, parsley and butter, oyster, lemon, liver, celery, or mushroom sauce. A little should be poured over the fowls, after the skewers are removed, and the remainder sent in a tureen to table. _Time_.--Large fowl, 1 hour; moderate-sized one, 3/4 hour; chicken, from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, in full season, 5s. the pair. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but scarce in early spring. [Illustration: GAME-FOWLS.] THE GAME FOWL.--Respecting the period at which this well-known member of the _Gallus_ family became domesticated, history is silent. There is little doubt, however, that, like the dog, it has been attached to mankind ever since mankind were attached to civilization. Although the social position of this bird is, at the present time, highly respectable, it is nothing to what it was when Rome was mistress of the world. Writing at that period, Pliny says, respecting the domestic cock, "The gait of the cock is proud and commanding; he walks with head erect and elevated crest; alone, of all birds, he habitually looks up to the sky, raising, at the same time, his curved and scythe-formed tail, and inspiring terror in the lion himself, that most intrepid of animals.----They regulate the conduct of our magistrates, and open or close to them their own houses. They prescribe rest or movement to the Roman fasces: they command or prohibit battles. In a word, they lord it over the masters of the world." As well among the ancient Greeks as the Romans, was the cock regarded with respect, and even awe. The former people practised divinations by means of this bird. Supposing there to be a doubt in the camp as to the fittest day to fight a battle, the letter of every day in the week would be placed face downwards, and a grain of corn placed on each; then the sacred cock would be let loose, and, according to the letters he pecked his corn from, so would the battle-time be regulated. On one momentous occasion, however, a person inimical to priestly interest officiously examined the grain, and found that those lying on the letters not wanted were made of wax, and the birds, preferring the true grain, left these untouched. It is needless to add that, after this, divination through the medium of cocks and grain fell out of fashion. Whether or no the learned fowl above alluded to were of the "game" breed, is unknown; but that the birds were bred for the inhuman sport of fighting many hundred years before the Christian era, there can be no doubt. Themistocles, the Athenian king, who flourished more than two thousand years ago, took advantage of the sight of a pitched battle between two cocks to harangue his soldiers on courage. "Observe," said he, "with what intrepid valour they fight, inspired by no other motive than lore of victory; whereas you have to contend for your religion and your liberty, for your wives and children, and for the tombs of your ancestors." And to this day his courage has not degenerated. He still preserves his bold and elegant gait, his sparkling eye, while his wedge-shaped beak and cruel spurs are ever ready to support his defiant crow. It is no wonder that the breed is not plentiful--first, on account of the few eggs laid by the hen; and, secondly, from the incurable pugnacity of the chicks. Half fledged broods may be found blind as bats from fighting, and only waiting for the least glimmer of sight to be at it again. Without doubt, the flesh of game fowls is every way superior to that of every chicken of the family. BROILED FOWL AND MUSHROOM SAUCE. 939. INGREDIENTS.--A large fowl, seasoning, to taste, of pepper and salt, 2 handfuls of button mushrooms, 1 slice of lean ham, 3/4 pint of thickened gravy, 1 teaspoonful of lemon-juice, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Cut the fowl into quarters, roast it until three-parts done, and keep it well basted whilst at the fire. Take the fowl up, broil it for a few minutes over a clear fire, and season it with pepper and salt. Have ready some mushroom sauce made in the following manner. Put the mushrooms into a stewpan with a small piece of butter, the ham, a seasoning of pepper and salt, and the gravy; simmer these gently for 1/2 hour, add the lemon-juice and sugar, dish the fowl, and pour the sauce round them. _Time_.--To roast the fowl, 35 minutes; to broil it, 10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, in full season, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_.--In full season from May to January. [Illustration: BLACK BANTAMS.] THE BANTAM.--No one will dispute that for beauty, animation, plumage, and courage the Bantam is entitled to rank next to the game fowl. As its name undoubtedly implies, the bird is of Asiatic origin. The choicest sorts are the buff-coloured, and those that are entirely black. A year-old Bantam cock of pure breed will not weigh more than sixteen ounces. Despite its small size, however, it is marvellously bold, especially in defence of its progeny. A friend of the writer's, residing at Kensington, possessed a pair of thorough-bred Bantams, that were allowed the range of a yard where a fierce bull-terrier was kennelled. The hen had chicks; and, when about three weeks old, one of them strayed into the dog-kennel. The grim beast within took no notice of the tiny fledgling; but, when the anxious mother ventured in to fetch out the truant, with a growl the dog woke, and nearly snapped her asunder in his great jaws. The cock bird saw the tragic fate of its partner; but, nothing daunted, flew at the dog with a fierce cry, and pecked savagely at its face. The odds, however, were too great; and, when the terrier had sufficiently recovered from the astonishment caused by the sudden and unexpected attack, he seized the audacious Bantam, and shook him to death; and, in five minutes, the devoted couple were entombed in _Pincher's_ capacious maw. BOILED FOWL AND RICE. 940. INGREDIENTS.--1 fowl, mutton broth, 2 onions, 2 small blades of pounded mace, pepper and salt to taste, 1/4 pint of rice, parsley and butter. _Mode_.--Truss the fowl as for boiling, and put it into a stewpan with sufficient clear well-skimmed mutton broth to cover it; add the onion, mace, and a seasoning of pepper and salt; stew very gently for about 1 hour, should the fowl be large, and about 1/2 hour before it is ready put in the rice, which should be well washed and soaked. When the latter is tender, strain it from the liquor, and put it on a sieve reversed to dry before the fire, and, in the mean time, keep the fowl hot. Dish it, put the rice round as a border, pour a little parsley and butter over the fowl, and the remainder send to table in a tureen. _Time_.--A large fowl, 1 hour. _Average cost_, in full season, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but scarce in early spring. [Illustration: DORKINGS.] THE DORKING.--This bird takes its name from that of a town in Surrey, where the breed is to be found in greater numbers, and certainly in greater perfection, than elsewhere. It is generally believed that this particular branch of poultry was found in the town above mentioned as long ago as the Roman era. The Dorking's chief characteristic is that he has five claws on each foot; the extra claw, however, is never of sufficient length to encumber the foot, or to cause it to "drag" its nest, or scratch out the eggs. The colour of the true Dorking is pure white; long in the body, short in the legs, and a prolific layer. Thirty years ago, there was much controversy respecting the origin of the Dorking. The men of Sussex declared that the bird belonged to them, and brought birds indigenous to their weald, and possessing all the Dorking fine points and peculiarities, in proof of the declaration. Others inclined to the belief that the Poland bird was the father of the Dorking, and not without at least a show of reason, as the former bird much resembles the latter in shape; and, despite its sombre hue, it is well known that the Poland cock will occasionally beget thorough white stock from white English hens. The commotion has, however, long ago subsided, and Dorking still retains its fair reputation for fowl. CURRIED FOWL. 941. INGREDIENTS.--1 fowl, 2 oz. of butter, 3 onions sliced, 1 pint of white veal gravy, 1 tablespoonful of curry-powder, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 apple, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Put the butter into a stewpan, with the onions sliced, the fowl cut into small joints, and the apple peeled, cored, and minced. Fry of a pale brown, add the stock, and stew gently for 20 minutes; rub down the curry-powder and flour with a little of the gravy, quite smoothly, and stir this to the other ingredients; simmer for rather more than 1/2 hour, and just before serving, add the above proportion of hot cream and lemon-juice. Serve with boiled rice, which may either be heaped lightly on a dish by itself, or put round the curry as a border. _Time_.--50 minutes. _Average cost_, 3s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ in the winter. _Note_.--This curry may be made of cold chicken, but undressed meat will be found far superior. THE POLAND.--This bird, a native of Holland, is a great favourite with fowl-keepers, especially those who have on eye to profit rather than to amusement. Those varieties known as the "silver spangled" and the "gold spangled" are handsome enough to please the most fastidious; but the common black breed, with the bushy crown of white feathers, is but a plain bird. The chief value of the common Poland lies in the great number of eggs they produce; indeed, in many parts, they are as well known as "everlasting layers" as by their proper name. However, the experienced breeder would take good care to send the eggs of his everlasting layers to market, and not use them for home consumption, as, although they may be as large as those laid by other hens, the amount of nutriment contained in them is not nearly so great. Mr. Mowbray once kept an account of the number of eggs produced by this prolific bird, with the following result:--From the 25th of October to the 25th of the following September five hens laid 503 eggs; the average weight of each egg was one ounce five drachms, and the total weight of the whole, exclusive of the shells, 50-1/4 pounds. Taking the weight of the birds at the fair average of five pounds each, we thus see them producing within a year double their weight of egg alone; and, supposing every egg to contain a chick, and allowing the chick to, grow, in less than eighteen months from the laying of the first egg, _two thousand five hundred pounds_ of chicken-meat would be the result. The Poland is easily fattened, and its flesh is generally considered juicier and of richer flavour than most others. [Illustration: SPANGLED POLANDS.] CURRIED FOWL OR CHICKEN (Cold Meat Cookery). 942. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowls, 2 large onions, 1 apple, 2 oz. of butter, 1 dessertspoonful of curry-powder, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 1/2 pint of gravy, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Slice the onions, peel, core, and chop the apple, and cut the fowl into neat joints; fry these in the butter of a nice brown; then add the curry-powder, flour, and gravy, and stew for about 20 minutes. Put in the lemon-juice, and serve with boiled rice, either placed in a ridge round the dish or separately. Two or three shallots or a little garlic may be added, if approved. _Time_.--Altogether 1/2 hour. _Av. cost_, exclusive of the cold fowl, 6d. _Seasonable_ in the winter. [Illustration: COCHIN-CHINAS.] THE COCHIN-CHINA.--About fifteen years ago, the arrival of this distinguished Asiatic created in England as great a sensation as might be expected from the landing of an invading host. The first pair that ever made their appearance here were natives of Shanghai, and were presented to the queen, who exhibited them at the Dublin poultry-show of 1818. Then began the "Cochin" _furor_. As soon as it was discovered, despite the most strenuous endeavours to keep the tremendous secret, that a certain dealer was possessed of a pair of these birds, straightway the avenues to that dealer's shop were blocked by broughams, and chariots, and hack cabs, until the shy poulterer had been tempted by a sufficiently high sum to part with his treasure. Bank-notes were exchanged for Cochin chicks, and Cochin eggs were in as great demand as though they had been laid by the fabled golden goose. The reign of the Cochin China was, however, of inconsiderable duration. The bird that, in 1847, would fetch thirty guineas, is now counted but ordinary chicken-meat, and its price is regulated according to its weight when ready for the spit. As for the precious buff eggs, against which, one time of day, guineas were weighed,--send for sixpenn'orth at the cheesemonger's, and you will get at least five; which is just as it should be. For elegance of shape or quality of flesh, the Cochin cannot for a moment stand comparison with our handsome dunghill; neither can the indescribable mixture of growling and braying, peculiar to the former, vie with the musical trumpeting of our own morning herald: yet our poultry-breeders have been immense gainers by the introduction of the ungainly celestial, inasmuch as _new blood_ has been infused into the English chicken family. Of this incalculable advantage we may be sure; while, as to the Cochin's defects, they are certain to be lost in the process of "cross and cross" breeding. BOILED FOWLS A LA BECHAMEL. 943. INGREDIENTS.--A pair of fowls, 1 pint of Béchamel, No, 367, a few bunches of boiled brocoli or cauliflower. _Mode_.--Truss and boil the fowls by recipe No. 938; make a pint of Béchamel sauce by recipe No. 367; pour some of this over the fowls, and the remainder send to table in a tureen. Garnish the dish with bunches of boiled cauliflowers or brocoli, and serve very hot. The sauce should be made sufficiently thick to adhere to the fowls; that for the tureen should be thinned by adding a spoonful or two of stock. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 1 hour, according to size. _Average cost_, in full season, 5s. a pair. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but scarce in early spring. SPACE FOR FOWLS.--We are no advocates for converting the domestic fowl into a cage-bird. We have known amateur fowl-keepers--worthy souls, who would butter the very barley they gave their pets, if they thought they would the more enjoy it--coop up a male bird and three or four hens in an ordinary egg-chest placed on its side, and with the front closely barred with iron hooping! This system will not do. Every animal, from man himself to the guinea-pig, must have what is vulgarly, but truly, known as "elbow-room;" and it must be self-evident how emphatically this rule applies to winged animals. It may be urged, in the case of domestic fowls, that from constant disuse, and from clipping and plucking, and other sorts of maltreatment, their wings can hardly be regarded as instruments of flight; we maintain, however, that you may pluck a fowl's wing-joints as bare as a pumpkin, but you will not erase from his memory that he is a fowl, and that his proper sphere is the open air. If he likewise reflects that he is an ill-used fowl--a prison-bird--he will then come to the conclusion, that there is not the least use, under such circumstances, for his existence; and you must admit that the decision is only logical and natural. BOILED FOWL, with Oysters. (_Excellent_.) 944. INGREDIENTS.--1 young fowl, 3 dozen oysters, the yolks of 2 eggs, 1/4 pint of cream. _Mode_.--Truss a young fowl as for boiling; fill the inside with oysters which have been bearded and washed in their own liquor; secure the ends of the fowl, put it into a jar, and plunge the jar into a saucepan of boiling water. Keep it boiling for 1-1/2 hour, or rather longer; then take the gravy that has flowed from the oysters and fowl, of which there will be a good quantity; stir in the cream and yolks of eggs, add a few oysters scalded in their liquor; let the sauce get quite _hot_, but do not allow it to _boil;_ pour some of it over the fowl, and the remainder send to table in a tureen. A blade of pounded mace added to the sauce, with the cream and eggs, will be found an improvement. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. Average cost, 4s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to April. THE FOWL-HOUSE.--In building a fowl-house, take care that it be, if possible, built against a wall or fence that faces the _south_, and thus insure its inmates against many cold winds, driving rains, and sleets they will otherwise suffer. Let the floor of the house slope half an inch to the foot from back to front, so as to insure drainage; let it also be close, hard, and perfectly smooth; so that it may be cleanly swept out. A capital plan is to mix a few bushels of chalk and dry earth, spread it over the floor, and pay a paviour's labourer a trifle to hammer it level with his rammer. The fowl-house should be seven feet high, and furnished with perches at least two feet apart. The perches must be level, and not one above the other, or unpleasant consequences may ensue to the undermost row. The perches should be ledged (not fixed--just dropped into sockets, that they may be easily taken out and cleaned) not lower than five feet from the ground, convenient slips of wood being driven into the wall, to render the ascent as easy as possible. The front of the fowl-house should be latticed, taking care that the interstices be not wide enough even to tempt a chick to crawl through. Nesting-boxes, containing soft hay, and fitted against the walls, so as to be easily reached by the perch-ladder, should be supplied. It will be as well to keep by you a few portable doors, so that you may hang one before the entrance to a nesting-box, when the hen goes in to sit. This will prevent other hens from intruding, a habit to which some are much addicted. FRICASSEED FOWL OR CHICKEN (an Entree). 945. INGREDIENTS.--2 small fowls or 1 large one, 3 oz. of butter, a bunch of parsley and green onions, 1 clove, 2 blades of mace, 1 shalot, 1 bay-leaf, salt and white pepper to taste, 1/4 pint of cream, the yolks of 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Choose a couple of fat plump chickens, and, after drawing, singeing, and washing them, skin, and carve them into joints; blanch these in boiling water for 2 or 3 minutes; take them out, and immerse them in cold water to render them white. Put the trimmings, with the necks and legs, into a stewpan; add the parsley, onions, clove, mace, shalot, bay-leaf, and a seasoning of pepper and salt; pour to these the water that the chickens were blanched in, and simmer gently for rather more than 1 hour. Have ready another stewpan; put in the joints of fowl, with the above proportion of butter; dredge them with flour, let them get hot, but do not brown them much; then moisten the fricassee with the gravy made from the trimmings, &c., and stew very gently for 1/2 hour. Lift the fowl into another stewpan, skim the sauce, reduce it quickly over the fire, by letting it boil fast, and strain it over them. Add the cream, and a seasoning of pounded mace and cayenne; let it boil up, and when ready to serve, stir to it the well-beaten yolks of 3 eggs: these should not be put in till the last moment, and the sauce should be made _hot_, but must _not boil_, or it will instantly curdle. A few button-mushrooms stewed with the fowl are by many persons considered an improvement. _Time_.--1 hour to make the gravy, 1/2 hour to simmer the fowl. _Average cost_, 5s. the pair. _Sufficient_.--1 large fowl for one entrée. _Seasonable_ at any time. STOCKING THE FOWL-HOUSE.--Take care that the birds with which you stock your house are _young_. The surest indications of old age are fading of the comb and gills from brilliant red to a dingy brick-colour, general paleness of plumage, brittleness of the feathers, length and size of the claws, and the scales of the legs and feet assuming a ragged and _corny_ appearance. Your cock and hens should be as near two years old as possible. Hens will lay at a year old, but the eggs are always insignificant in size, and the layers giddy and unsteady sitters. The hen-bird is in her prime for breeding at three years old, and will continue so, under favourable circumstances, for two years longer; after which she will decline. Crowing hens, and those that have large combs, are generally looked on with mistrust; but this is mere silliness and superstition--though it is possible that a spruce young cock would as much object to a spouse with such peculiar addictions, as a young fellow of our own species would to a damsel who whistled and who wore whiskers. Fowls with yellow legs should be avoided; they are generally of a tender constitution, loose-fleshed, and of indifferent flavour. FRICASSEED FOWL (Cold Meat Cookery). 946. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, 1 strip of lemon-peel, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, 1 onion, popper and salt to taste, 1 pint of water, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 1/4 pint of cream, the yolks of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Carve the fowls into nice joints; make gravy of the trimmings and legs, by stewing them with the lemon-peel, mace, herbs, onion, seasoning, and water, until reduced to 1/2 pint; then strain, and put in the fowl. Warm it through, and thicken with a teaspoonful of flour; stir the yolks of the eggs into the cream; add these to the sauce, let it get thoroughly hot, but do not allow it to boil, or it will curdle. _Time_.--1 hour to make the gravy, 1/4 hour to warm the fowl. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold chicken, 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHARACTERISTICS OF HEALTH AND POWER.--The chief characteristics of health in a fowl are brightness and dryness of eye and nostrils, the comb and wattles firm and ruddy, the feathers elastic and glossy. The most useful cock is generally the greatest tyrant, who struts among his hens despotically, with his head erect and his eyes ever watchful. There is likely to be handsomer and stronger chicks in a house where a bold, active--even savage--bird reigns, than where the lord of the hen-house is a weak, meek creature, who bears the abuse and peckings of his wives without a remonstrance. I much prefer dark-coloured cock-birds to those of light plumage. A cock, to be handsome, should be of middling size; his bill should be short, comb bright-red, wattles large, breast broad, and wings strong. His head should be rather small than otherwise, his legs short and sturdy, and his spurs well-formed; his feathers should be short and close, and the more frequently and heartily he crows, the better father he is likely to become. The common error of choosing hens _above_ the ordinary stature of their respective varieties should be avoided, as the best breeding-hens are those of medium size. FRIED FOWLS (Cold Meat Cookery). I. 947. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowls, vinegar, salt and cayenne to taste, 3 or 4 minced shalots. For the batter,--1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 pint of hot water, 2 oz. of butter, the whites of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Cut the fowl into nice joints; steep them for an hour in a little vinegar, with salt, cayenne, and minced shalots. Make the batter by mixing the flour and water smoothly together; melt in it the butter, and add the whites of egg beaten to a froth; take out the pieces of fowl, dip them in the batter, and fry, in boiling lard, a nice brown. Pile them high in the dish, and garnish with fried parsley or rolled bacon. When approved, a sauce or gravy may be served with them. _Time_.--10 minutes to fry the fowl. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold fowl, 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHANTICLEER AND HIS COMPANIONS.--On bringing the male and female birds together for the first time, it will be necessary to watch the former closely, as it is a very common occurrence with him to conceive a sudden and violent dislike for one or more of his wives, and not allow the obnoxious ones to approach within some distance of the others; indeed, I know many cases where the capricious tyrant has set upon the innocent cause of his resentment and killed her outright. In all such cases, the hen objected to should be removed and replaced by another. If the cock should, by any accident, get killed, considerable delicacy is required in introducing a new one. The hens may mope, and refuse to associate with their new husband, clustering in corners, and making odious comparisons between him and the departed; or the cock may have his own peculiar notions as to what a wife should be, and be by no means satisfied with those you have provided him. The plan is, to keep him by himself nearly the whole day, supplying him plentifully with exhilarating food, then to turn him loose among the hens, and to continue this practice, allowing him more of the society of his wives each day, until you suffer him to abide with them altogether. II. 948. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, vinegar, salt and cayenne to taste, 4 minced shalots, yolk of egg; to every teacupful of bread crumbs allow 1 blade of pounded mace, 5 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1 saltspoonful of salt, a few grains of cayenne. _Mode_.--Steep the pieces of fowl as in the preceding recipe, then dip them into the yolk of an egg or clarified butter; sprinkle over bread crumbs with which have been mixed salt, mace, cayenne, and lemon-peel in the above proportion. Fry a light brown, and serve with or without gravy, as may be preferred. _Time_.--10 minutes to fry the fowl. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold fowl, 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. VARIOUS MODES OF FATTENING FOWLS.--It would, I think, be a difficult matter to find, among the entire fraternity of fowl-keepers, a dozen whose mode of fattening "stock" is the same. Some say that the grand f secret is to give them abundance of saccharine food; others say nothing beats heavy corn steeped in milk; while another breeder, celebrated in his day, and the recipient of a gold medal from a learned society, says, "The best method is as follows:-The chickens are to be taken from the hen the night after they are hatched, and fed with eggs hard-boiled, chopped, and mixed with crumbs of bread, as larks and other small birds are fed, for the first fortnight; after which give them oatmeal and treacle mixed so as to crumble, of which the chickens are very fond, and thrive so fast that, at the end of two months, they will be as large as full-grown fowls." Others there are who insist that nothing beats oleaginous diet, and cram their birds with ground oats and suet. But, whatever the course of diet favoured, on one point they seem agreed; and that is, that, while fattening, the fowls _should be kept in the dark_. Supposing the reader to be a dealer--a breeder of gross chicken meat for the market (against which supposition the chances are 10,000 to 1), and beset with as few scruples as generally trouble the huckster, the advice is valuable. "Laugh and grow fat" is a good maxim enough; but "Sleep and grow fat" is, as is well known to folks of porcine attributes, a better. The poor birds, immured in their dark dungeons, ignorant that there is life and sunshine abroad, tuck their heads under their wings and make a long night of it; while their digestive organs, having no harder work than to pile up fat, have an easy time enough. But, unless we are mistaken, he who breeds poultry for his own eating, bargains for a more substantial reward than the questionable pleasure of burying his carving-knife in chicken grease. Tender, delicate, and nutritious flesh is the great aim; and these qualities, I can affirm without fear of contradiction, were never attained by a dungeon-fatted chicken: perpetual gloom and darkness is as incompatible with chicken life as it is with human. If you wish to be convinced of the absurdity of endeavouring to thwart nature's laws, plant a tuft of grass, or a cabbage-plant, in the darkest corner of your coal-cellar. The plant or the tuft may increase in length and breadth, but its colour will be as wan and pale, almost, as would be your own face under the circumstances. POULET A LA MARENGO. 949. INGREDIENTS.--1 large fowl, 4 tablespoonfuls of salad oil, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 pint of stock No. 105, or water, about 20 mushroom-buttons, salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoonful of powdered sugar, a very small piece of garlic. _Mode_.--Cut the fowl into 8 or 10 pieces; put them with the oil into a stewpan, and brown them over a moderate fire; dredge in the above proportion of flour; when that is browned, pour in the stock or water; let it simmer very slowly for rather more than 1/2 hour, and skim off the fat as it rises to the top; add the mushrooms; season with salt, pepper, garlic, and sugar; take out the fowl, which arrange pyramidically on the dish, with the inferior joints at the bottom. Reduce the sauce by boiling it quickly over the fire, keeping it stirred until sufficiently thick to adhere to the back of a spoon; pour over the fowl, and serve. _Time_.--Altogether 50 minutes. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. A FOWL À LA MARENGO.--The following is the origin of the well-known dish Poulet à la Marengo:--On the evening of the battle the first consul was very hungry after the agitation of the day, and a fowl was ordered with all expedition. The fowl was procured, but there was no butter at hand, and unluckily none could be found in the neighbourhood. There was oil in abundance, however; and the cook having poured a certain quantity into his skillet, put in the fowl, with a clove of garlic and other seasoning, with a little white wine, the best the country afforded; he then garnished it with mushrooms, and served it up hot. This dish proved the second conquest of the day, as the first consul found it most agreeable to his palate, and expressed his satisfaction. Ever since, a fowl à la Marengo is a favourite dish with all lovers of good cheer. MINCED FOWL A LA BECHAMEL. 950. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, 6 tablespoonfuls of Béchamel sauce No. 367, 6 tablespoonfuls of white stock No. 107, the white of 1 egg, bread crumbs, clarified butter. _Mode_.--Take the remains of roast fowls, mince the white meat very small, and put it into a stewpan with the Béchamel and stock; stir it well over the fire, and just let it boil up. Pour the mince into a dish, beat up the white of egg, spread it over, and strew on it a few grated bread crumbs; pour a very little clarified butter on the whole, and brown either before the fire or with a salamander. This should be served in a silver dish, if at hand. _Time_.--2 or 3 minutes to simmer in the sauce. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE BEST WAY TO FATTEN FOWLS.--The barn-door fowl is in itself a complete refutation of the cramming and dungeon policy of feeding practised by some. This fowl, which has the common run of the farm-yard, living on dairy-scraps and offal from the stable, begins to grow fat at threshing-time. He has his fill of the finest corn; he has his fill of fresh air and natural exercise, and at last he comes smoking to the table,--a dish for the gods. In the matter of unnaturally stuffing and confining fowls, Mowbray is exactly of our opinion. He says: "The London chicken-butchers, as they are termed, are said to be, of all others, the most expeditious and dexterous feeders, putting up a coop of fowls, and making them thoroughly fat within the space of a fortnight, using much grease, and that perhaps not of the most delicate kind, in the food. In this way I have no boasts to make, having always found it necessary to allow a considerable number of weeks for the purpose of making fowls fat in coops. In the common way this business is often badly managed, fowls being huddled together in a small coop, tearing each other to pieces, instead of enjoying that repose which alone can insure, the wished-for object--irregularly fed and cleaned, until they become so stenched and poisoned in their own excrement, that their flesh actually smells and tastes when smoking upon the table." Sussex produces the fattest and largest poultry of any county in England, and the fatting process there most common is to give them a gruel made of pot-liquor and bruised oats, with which are mixed hog's grease, sugar, and milk. The fowls are kept very warm, and crammed morning and night. They are put into the coop, and kept there two or three days before the cramming begins, and then it is continued for a fortnight, and the birds are sent to market. RAGOUT OF FOWL. 951. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowls, 3 shalots, 2 blades of mace, a faggot of savoury herbs, 2 or three slices of lean ham, 1 pint of stock or water, pepper and salt to taste, 1 onion, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 1 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Cut the fowls up into neat pieces, the same as for a fricassee; put the trimmings into a stewpan with the shalots, mace, herbs, ham, onion, and stock (water may be substituted for this). Boil it slowly for 1 hour, strain the liquor, and put a small piece of butter into a stewpan; when melted, dredge in sufficient flour to dry up the butter, and stir it over the fire. Put in the strained liquor, boil for a few minutes, and strain it again over the pieces of fowl. Squeeze in the lemon-juice, add the sugar and a seasoning of pepper and salt, make it hot, but do not allow it to boil; lay the fowl neatly on the dish, and garnish with croûtons. _Time_.--Altogether 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold fowl, 9d. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE BEST FOWLS TO FATTEN, &c.--The chicks most likely to fatten well are those first hatched in the brood, and those with the shortest legs. Long-legged fowls, as a rule, are by far the most difficult to fatten. The most delicate sort are those which are put up to fatten as soon as the hen forsakes them; for, as says an old writer, "then they will be in fine condition, and full of flesh, which flesh is afterwards expended in the exercise of foraging for food, and in the increase of stature; and it may be a work of some weeks to recover it,--especially with young cocks." But whether you take them in hand as chicks, or not till they are older, the three prime rules to be observed are, sound and various food, warmth, and cleanliness. There is nothing that a fatting fowl grows so fastidious about as his water. If water any way foul be offered him, he will not drink it, but sulk with his food, and pine, and you all the while wondering the reason why. Keep them separate, allowing to each bird as much space as you can spare. Spread the ground with sharp sandy gravel; take care that they are not disturbed. In addition to their regular diet of good corn, make them a cake of ground oats or beans, brown sugar, milk, and mutton suet. Let the cake lie till it is stale, then crumble it, and give each bird a gill-measureful morning and evening. No entire grain should be given to fowls during the time they are fattening; indeed, the secret of success lies in supplying them with the most nutritious food without stint, and in such a form that their digestive mills shall find no difficulty in grinding it. [Illustration: ROAST FOWL.] ROAST FOWLS. 952. INGREDIENTS.--A pair of fowls; a little flour. _Mode_.--Fowls to be tender should be killed a couple of days before they are dressed; when the feathers come out easily, then let them be picked and cooked. In drawing them, be careful not to break the gall-bag, as, wherever it touches, it would impart a very bitter taste; the liver and gizzard should also be preserved. Truss them in the following manner:--After having carefully picked them, cut off the head, and skewer the skin of the neck down over the back. Cut off the claws; dip the legs in boiling water, and scrape them; turn the pinions under, run a skewer through them and the middle of the legs, which should be passed through the body to the pinion and leg on the other side, one skewer securing the limbs on both sides. The liver and gizzard should be placed in the wings, the liver on one side and the gizzard on the other. Tie the legs together by passing a trussing-needle, threaded with twine, through the backbone, and secure it on the other side. If trussed like a capon, the legs are placed more apart. When firmly trussed, singe them all over; put them down to a bright clear fire, paper the breasts with a sheet of buttered paper, and keep the fowls well basted. Roast them for 3/4 hour, more or less, according to the size, and 10 minutes before serving, remove the paper, dredge the fowls with a little fine flour, put a piece of butter into the basting-ladle, and as it melts, baste the fowls with it; when nicely frothed and of a rich colour, serve with good brown gravy, a little of which should be poured over the fowls, and a tureen of well-made bread sauce, No. 371. Mushroom, oyster, or egg sauce are very suitable accompaniments to roast fowl.--Chicken is roasted in the same manner. _Time_.--A very large fowl, quite 1 hour, medium-sized one 3/4 hour, chicken 1/2 hour, or rather longer. _Average cost_, in full season, 5s. a pair; when scarce, 7s. 6d. the pair. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but scarce in early spring. THE DISEASES OF FOWLS, AND HOW TO CURE THEM.--The diseases to which _Gallus domesticus_ is chiefly liable, are roup, pip, scouring, and chip. The first-mentioned is the most common of all, and results from cold. The ordinary symptoms,--swollen eyes, running at the nostrils, and the purple colour of the wattles. Part birds so affected from the healthy ones, as, when the disease is at its height it is as contagious as glanders among horses. Wash out the nostrils with warm water, give daily a peppercorn inclosed in dough; bathe the eyes and nostrils with warm milk and water. If the head is much swollen, bathe with warm brandy and water. When the bird is getting well, put half a spoonful of sulphur in his drinking-water. Some fanciers prescribe for this disease half a spoonful of table salt, dissolved in half a gill of water, in which rue has been steeped; others, pills composed of ground rice and fresh butter: but the remedy first mentioned will be found far the best. As there is a doubt respecting the wholesomeness of the eggs laid by roupy hens, it will be as well to throw them away. The pip is a white horny skin growing on the tip of the bird's tongue. It should be removed with the point of a penknife, and the place rubbed with salt. FOWL AND RICE CROQUETTES (an Entree). 953. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of rice, 1 quart of stock or broth, 3 oz. of butter, minced fowl, egg, and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Put the rice into the above proportion of cold stock or broth, and let it boil very gently for 1/2 hour; then add the butter, and simmer it till quite dry and soft When cold, make it into balls, hollow out the inside, and fill with minced fowl made by recipe No. 956. The mince should be rather thick. Cover over with rice, dip the balls into egg, sprinkle them with bread crumbs, and fry a nice brown. Dish them, and garnish with fried parsley. Oysters, white sauce, or a little cream, may be stirred into the rice before it cools. _Time_.--1/2 hour to boil the rice, 10 minutes to fry the croquettes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the fowl, 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHIP.--If the birds are allowed to puddle about on wet soil, or to be much out in the rain, they will get "chip." Young chicks are especially liable to this complaint. They will sit shivering in out-of-the-way corners, perpetually uttering a dolorous "chip, chip;" seemingly frozen with cold, though, on handling them, they are found to be in high fever. A wholesale breeder would take no pains to attempt the cure of fowls so afflicted; but they who keep chickens for the pleasure, and not for the profit they yield, will be inclined to recover them if possible. Give them none but warm food, half a peppercorn rolled in a morsel of dough every night, and a little nitre in their water. Above all, keep them warm; a corner in the kitchen fender, for a day or two, will do more to effect a cure than the run of a druggist's warehouse. CROQUETTES OF FOWL (an Entree). 954. INGREDIENTS.--3 or 4 shalots, 1 oz. of butter, 1 teaspoonful of flour, white sauce; pepper, salt, and pounded mace to taste; 1/2 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, the remains of cold roast fowls, the yolks of 2 eggs, egg, and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Mince the fowl, carefully removing all skin and bone, and fry the shalots in the butter; add the minced fowl, dredge in the flour, put in the pepper, salt, mace, pounded sugar, and sufficient white sauce to moisten it; stir to it the yolks of 2 well-beaten eggs, and set it by to cool. Then make the mixture up into balls, egg and bread-crumb them, and fry a nice brown. They may be served on a border of mashed potatoes, with gravy or sauce in the centre. _Time_.--10 minutes to fry the balls. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE TURN.--What is termed "turrling" with song-birds, is known, as regard fowls, as the "turn." Its origin is the same in both cases,--over-feeing and want of exercise. Without a moment's warning, a fowl so afflicted will totter and fall from its perch, and unless assistance be at hand, speedily give up the ghost. The veins of the palate should be opened, and a few drops of mixture composed of six parts of sweet nitre and one of ammonia, poured down its throat. I have seen ignorant keepers plunge a bird, stricken with the "turn," into cold water; but I never saw it taken out again alive; and for a good reason: the sudden chill has the effect of driving the blood to the head,--of aggravating the disease indeed, instead of relieving it. HASHED FOWL--an Entree (Cold Meat Cookery). 955. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, 1 pint of water, 1 onion, 2 or three small carrots, 1 blade of pounded mace, pepper and salt to taste, 1 small bunch of savoury herbs, thickening of butter and flour, 1-1/2 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut off the best joints from the fowl, and the remainder make into gravy, by adding to the bones and trimmings a pint of water, an onion sliced and fried of a nice brown, the carrots, mace, seasoning, and herbs. Let these stew gently for 1-1/2 hour, strain the liquor, and thicken with a little flour and butter. Lay in the fowl, thoroughly warm it through, add the ketchup, and garnish with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--Altogether 1-3/4 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold fowl, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. SKIN-DISEASE IN FOWLS.--Skin-disease is, nine times out of ten, caused by the feathers being swarmed by parasites. Poor feeding will induce this, even if cleanliness be observed; uncleanliness, however liberal the bill of fare, will be taken as an invitation by the little biting pests, and heartily responded to. Mix half a teaspoonful of hydro-oxalic acid with twelve teaspoonfuls of water,--apply to the itching parts with an old shaving-brush. OBSTRUCTION OF THE CROP.--Obstruction of the crop is occasioned by weakness or greediness. You may know when a bird is so afflicted by his crop being distended almost to bursting. Mowbray tells of a hen of his in this predicament; when the crop was opened, a quantity of new beans were discovered in a state of vegetation. The crop should be slit from the _bottom_ to the _top_ with a sharp pair of scissors, the contents taken out, and the slit sewed up again with line white thread. MINCED FOWL--an Entree (Cold Meat Cookery). 956. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, 2 hard-boiled eggs, salt, cayenne, and pounded mace, 1 onion, 1 faggot of savoury herbs, 6 tablespoonfuls of cream, 1 oz. of butter, two teaspoonfuls of flour, 1/2 teaspoonful of finely-minced lemon-peel, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Cut out from the fowl all the white meat, and mince it finely without any skin or bone; put the bones, skin, and trimmings into a stewpan with an onion, a bunch of savoury herbs, a blade of mace, and nearly a pint of water; let this stew for an hour, then strain the liquor. Chop the eggs small; mix them with the fowl; add salt, cayenne, and pounded mace, put in the gravy and remaining ingredients; let the whole just boil, and serve with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the fowl, 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Another way to make this is to mince the fowl, and warm it in white sauce or Béchamel. When dressed like this, 3 or 4 poached eggs may be placed on the top: oysters, or chopped mushrooms, or balls of oyster forcemeat, may be laid round the dish. THE MOULTING SEASON.--During the moulting season beginning properly at the end of September, the fowls will require a little extra attention. Keep them dry and warm, and feed them liberally on warm and satisfying food. If in any fowl the moult should seem protracted, examine it for broken feather-stumps still beaded in the skin: if you find any, extract them carefully with a pair of tweezers. If a fowl is hearty and strong, six weeks will see him out of his trouble; if he is weakly, or should take cold during the time, he will not thoroughly recover in less than three months. It is seldom or ever that hens will lay during the moult; while the cock, during the same period, will give so little of his consideration to the frivolities of love, that you may as well, nay, much better, keep him by himself till he perfectly recovers. A moulting chicken makes but a sorry dish. HASHED FOWL, Indian Fashion (an Entree). 957.--INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, 3 or 4 sliced onions, 1 apple, 2 oz. of butter, pounded mace, pepper and salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of curry-powder, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, 1 pint of gravy. _Mode_.--Cut the onions into slices, mince the apple, and fry these in the butter; add pounded mace, pepper, salt, curry-powder, vinegar, flour, and sugar in the above proportions; when the onion is brown, put it the gravy, which should be previously made from the bones and trimmings of the fowls, and stew for 3/4 hour; add the fowl cut into nice-sized joints, let it warm through, and when quite tender, serve. The dish should be garnished with au edging of boiled rice. _Time_.--1 hour. Average cost, exclusive of the fowl, 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE SCOUR OR DYSENTERY.--The scour, or dysentery, or diarrhoea, is induced variously. A sudden alteration in diet will cause it, as will a superabundance of green food. The best remedy is a piece of toasted biscuit sopped in ale. If the disease has too tight a hold on the bird to be quelled by this, give six drops of syrup of white poppies and six drops of castor-oil, mixed with a little oatmeal or ground rice. Restrict the bird's diet, for a few days, to dry food,--crushed beans or oats, stale bread-crumbs, &c. FOWL SCOLLOPS (Cold Meat Cookery). 958. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast or boiled fowl, 1/2 pint of Béchamel, No. 367, or white sauce, No. 537 or 539. _Mode_.--Strip off the skin from the fowl; cut the meat into thin slices, and warm them in about 1/2 pint, or rather more, of Béchamel, or white sauce. When quite hot, serve, and garnish the dish with rolled ham or bacon toasted. _Time_.--1 minute to simmer the slices of fowl. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: THE FEATHER LEGGED BANTAM.] THE FEATHER LEGGED BANTAM.--Since the introduction of the Bantam into Europe, it has ramified into many varieties, none of which are destitute of elegance, and some, indeed, remarkable for their beauty. All are, or ought to be, of small size, but lively and vigorous, exhibiting in their movements both grace and stateliness. The variety shown in the engraving is remarkable for the _tarsi_, or beams of the legs, being plumed to the toes, with stiff, long feathers, which brush the ground. Owing, possibly, to the little care taken to preserve this variety from admixture, it is now not frequently seen. Another variety is often red, with a black breast and single dentated comb. The _tarsi_ are smooth, and of a dusky blue. When this sort of Bantam is pure, it yields in courage and spirit to none, and is, in fact, a game-fowl in miniature, being as beautiful and graceful as it is spirited. A pure white Bantam, possessing all the qualifications just named, is also bred in the royal aviary at Windsor. AN INDIAN DISH OF FOWL (an Entree). 959. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, 3 or 4 sliced onions, 1 tablespoonful of curry-powder, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Divide the fowl into joints; slice and fry the onions in a little butter, taking care not to burn them; sprinkle over the fowl a little curry-powder and salt; fry these nicely, pile them high in the centre of the dish, cover with the onion, and serve with a cut lemon on a plate. Care must be taken that the onions are not greasy: they should be quite dry, but not burnt. _Time_.--5 minutes to fry the onions, 10 minutes to fry the fowl. _Average cost_, exclusive of the fowl, 4d. _Seasonable_ during the winter month. [Illustration: SPECKLED HAMBURGS.] THE SPECKLED HAMBURG.--Of the speckled, or spangled Hamburg which is a favourite breed with many persons, there are two varieties,--the golden-speckled and the silver-speckled. The general colour of the former is golden, or orange-yellow, each feather having a glossy dark brown or black tip, particularly remarkable on the hackles of the cock and the wing-coverts, and also on the darker feathers of the breast. The female is yellow, or orange-brown, the feathers in like manner being margined with black. The silver-speckled variety is distinguished by the ground-colour of the plumage being of a silver-white, with perhaps a tinge of straw-yellow, every leather being margined with a semi-lunar mark of glossy black. Both of these varieties are extremely beautiful, the hens laying freely. First-rate birds command a high price. FOWL SAUTE WITH PEAS (an Entree). 960. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowl, 2 oz. of butter, pepper, salt, and pounded mace to taste, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, 1/2 pint of weak stock, 1 pint of green peas, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Cut the fowl into nice pieces; put the butter into a stew-pan; sautez or fry the fowl a nice brown colour, previously sprinkling it with pepper, salt, and pounded mace. Dredge in the flour, shake the ingredients well round, then add the stock and peas, and stew till the latter are tender, which will be in about 20 minutes; put in the pounded sugar, and serve, placing the chicken round, and the peas in the middle of the dish. When liked, mushrooms may be substituted for the peas. _Time_.--Altogether 40 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the fowl, 7d. _Seasonable_ from June to August. BOUDIN A LA REINE (an Entree). (M. Ude's Recipe.) 961. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast fowls, 1 pint of Béchamel No. 367, salt and cayenne to taste, egg and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Take the breasts and nice white meat from the fowls; cut it into small dice of an equal size, and throw them into some good Béchamel, made by recipe No. 367; season with salt and cayenne, and put the mixture into a dish to cool. When this preparation is quite cold, cut it into 2 equal parts, which should be made into _boudins_ of a long shape, the size of the dish they are intended to be served on; roll them in flour, egg and bread-crumb them, and be careful that the ends are well covered with the crumbs, otherwise they would break in the frying-pan; fry them a nice colour, put them before the fire to drain the greasy moisture from them, and serve with the remainder of the Béchamel poured round: this should be thinned with a little stock. _Time_.--10 minutes to fry the boudins. _Average cost_, exclusive of the fowl, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 1 entrée. [Illustration: SEBRIGHT BANTAMS.] SIR JOHN SEBRIGHT'S BANTAMS.--Above all Bantams is placed, the celebrated and beautiful breed called Sir John Sebright's Silver Bantams. This breed, which Sir John brought to perfection after years of careful trials, is very small, with un-feathered legs, and a rose comb and short hackles. The plumage is gold or silver, spangled, every feather being of a golden orange, or of a silver white, with a glossy jet-black margin; the cocks have the tail folded like that of a hen, with the sickle feathers shortened straight, or nearly so, and broader than usual. The term _hen-cocks_ is, in consequence, often applied to them; but although the sickle feathers are thus modified, no bird possesses higher courage, or a more gallant carriage. The attitude of the cock is, indeed, singularly proud; and he is often seen to bear himself so haughtily, that his head, thrown back as if in disdain, nearly touches the two upper feathers--sickles they can scarcely be called--of his tail. Half-bred birds of this kind are not uncommon, but birds of the pure breed are not to be obtained without trouble and expense; indeed, some time ago, it was almost impossible to procure either a fowl or an egg. "The finest," says the writer whom we have consulted as to this breed, "we have ever seen, were in Sir John's poultry-yard, adjacent to Turnham-Green Common, in the byroad leading to Acton." FOWL A LA MAYONNAISE. 962. INGREDIENTS.--A cold roast fowl, Mayonnaise sauce No. 468, 4 or 5 young lettuces, 4 hard-boiled eggs, a few water-cresses, endive. _Mode_.--Cut the fowl into neat joints, lay them in a deep dish, piling them high in the centre, sauce the fowl with Mayonnaise made by recipe No. 468, and garnish the dish with young lettuces cut in halves, water-cresses, endive, and hard-boiled eggs: these may be sliced in rings, or laid on the dish whole, cutting off at the bottom a piece of the white, to make the egg stand. All kinds of cold meat and solid fish may be dressed à la Mayonnaise, and make excellent luncheon or supper dishes. The sauce should not be poured over the fowls until the moment of serving. Should a very large Mayonnaise be required, use 2 fowls instead of 1, with an equal proportion of the remaining ingredients. _Average cost_, with one fowl, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized dish. _Seasonable_ from April to September. [Illustration: BLACK SPANISH.] BLACK SPANISH.--The real Spanish fowl is recognized by its uniformly black colour burnished with tints of green; its peculiar white face, and the large development of its comb and wattle. The hens are excellent layers, and their eggs are of a very large size. They are, however, bad nurses; consequently, their eggs should be laid in the nest of other varieties to be hatched. "In purchasing Spanish," says an authority, "blue legs, the entire absence of white or coloured feathers in the plumage, and a large, white face, with a very large high comb, which should be erect in the cock, though pendent in the hens, should be insisted on." The flesh of this fowl is esteemed; but, from the smallness of its body when compared with that of the Dorking, it is not placed on an equality with it for the table. Otherwise, however, they are profitable birds, and their handsome carriage, and striking contrast of colour in the comb, face, and plumage, are a high recommendation to them as kept fowls. For a town fowl, they are perhaps better adapted than any other variety. FOWL PILLAU, based on M. Soyer's Recipe (an Indian Dish). 963. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of rice, 2 oz. of butter, a fowl, 2 quarts of stock or good broth, 40 cardamum-seeds, 1/2 oz. of coriander-seed, 1/4 oz. of cloves, 1/4 oz. of allspice, 1/4 oz. of mace, 1/4 oz. of cinnamon, 1/2 oz. of peppercorns, 4 onions, 6 thin slices of bacon, 2 hard-boiled eggs. _Mode_.--Well wash 1 lb. of the best Patna rice, put it into a frying-pan with the butter, which keep moving over a slow fire until the rice is lightly browned. Truss the fowl as for boiling, put it into a stewpan with the stock or broth; pound the spices and seeds thoroughly in a mortar, tie them in a piece of muslin, and put them in with the fowl. Let it boil slowly until it is nearly done; then add the rice, which should stew until quite tender and almost dry; cut the onions into slices, sprinkle them with flour, and fry, without breaking them, of a nice brown colour. Have ready the slices of bacon curled and grilled, and the eggs boiled hard. Lay the fowl in the form of a pyramid upon a dish, smother with the rice, garnish with the bacon, fried onions, and the hard-boiled eggs cut into quarters, and serve very hot. Before taking the rice out, remove the spices. _Time_.--1/2 hour to stew the fowl without the rice; 1/2 hour with it. _Average cost_, 4s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: SULTANS.] THE SERAI TA-OOK, OR FOWLS OF THE SULTAN.--This fowl is the size of our English Polands, and is the latest species introduced to England. They have a white and flowing plumage, a full-sized, compact Poland tuft on the head, are muffed, have a full flowing tail, short legs well feathered, and five toes upon each foot. Their comb consists merely of two little points, and their wattles are very small: their colour is that of a pure white. In January, 1854, they arrived in this country from Constantinople; and they take their name from _sarai_, the Turkish word for sultan's palace, and _ta-ook_, the Turkish for fowl. They are thus called the "fowls of the sultan," a name which has the twofold advantage of being the nearest to be found to that by which they have been known in their own country, and of designating the country whence they come. Their habits are described as being generally brisk and happy-tempered, but not so easily kept in as Cochin-Chinas. They are excellent layers; but they are non-sitters and small eaters: their eggs are large and white. Brahmas or Cochins will clear the crop of a grass-run long before they will, and, with scattered food, they soon satisfy themselves and walk away. POULET AUX CRESSONS. 964. INGREDIENTS.--A fowl, a large bunch of water-cresses, 3 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, 1/4 pint of gravy. _Mode_.--Truss and roast a fowl by recipe No. 952, taking care that it is nicely frothed and brown. Wash and dry the water-cresses, pick them nicely, and arrange them in a flat layer on a dish. Sprinkle over a little salt and the above proportion of vinegar; place over these the fowl, and pour over it the gravy. A little gravy should be served in a tureen. When not liked, the vinegar may be omitted. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 1 hour, according to size. _Average cost_, in full season, 2s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. ROAST FOWL, Stuffed. 965. INGREDIENTS.--A large fowl, forcemeat No. 417, a little flour. _Mode_.--Select a large plump fowl, fill the breast with forcemeat, made by recipe No. 417, truss it firmly, the same as for a plain roast fowl, dredge it with flour, and put it down to a bright fire. Roast it for nearly or quite an hour, should it be very large; remove the skewers, and serve with a good brown gravy and a tureen of bread sauce. _Time_.--Large fowl, nearly or quite 1 hour. _Average cost_, in full season, 2s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but scarce in early spring. _Note_.--Sausage-meat stuffing may be substituted for the above: this is now a very general mode of serving fowl. [Illustration: PENCILLED HAMBURG.] PENCILLED HAMBURG.--This variety of the Hamburg fowl is of two colours, golden and silver, and is very minutely marked. The hens of both should have the body clearly pencilled across with several bars of black, and the hackle in both, sexes should be perfectly free from dark marks. The cocks do not exhibit the pencillings, but are white or brown in the golden or silver birds respectively. Their form is compact, and their attitudes graceful and sprightly. The hens do not sit, but lay extremely well; hence one of their common names, that of Dutch every-day layers. They are also known in different parts of the country, as Chitteprats, Creoles, or Corals, Bolton bays and grays, and, in some parts of Yorkshire, by the wrong name of Corsican fowls. They are imported in large numbers from Holland, but those bred in this country are greatly superior in size. GIBLET PIE. 966. INGREDIENTS.--A set of duck or goose giblets, 1 lb. of rump-steak, 1 onion, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole black pepper, a bunch of savoury herbs, plain crust. _Mode_.--Clean, and put the giblets into a stewpan with an onion, whole pepper, and a bunch of savoury herbs; add rather more than a pint of water, and simmer gently for about 1-1/2 hour. Take them out, let them cool, and cut them into pieces; line the bottom of a pie-dish with a few pieces of rump-steak; add a layer of giblets and a few more pieces of steak; season with pepper and salt, and pour in the gravy (which should be strained), that the giblets were stewed in; cover with a plain crust, and bake for rather more than 1-1/2 hour in a brisk oven. Cover a piece of paper over the pie, to prevent the crust taking too much colour. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour to stew the giblets, about 1 hour to bake the pie. _Average cost_, exclusive of the giblets, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. THE BRENT GOOSE.--This is the smallest and most numerous species of the geese which visit the British islands. It makes its appearance in winter, and ranges over the whole of the coasts and estuaries frequented by other migrant geese. Mr. Selby states that a very large body of these birds annually resort to the extensive sandy and muddy flats which lie between the mainland and Holy Island, on the Northumbrian coast, and which are covered by every flow of the tide. This part of the coast appears to have been a favourite resort of these birds from time immemorial, where they have always received the name of Ware geese, no doubt from their continually feeding on marine vegetables. Their flesh is very agreeable. HASHED GOOSE. 967. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast goose, 2 onions, 2 oz. of butter, 1 pint of boiling water, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, pepper and salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of port wine, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut up the goose into pieces of the size required; the inferior joints, trimmings, &c., put into a stewpan to make the gravy; slice and fry the onions in the butter of a very pale brown; add these to the trimmings, and pour over about a pint of boiling water; stew these gently for 3/4 hour, then skim and strain the liquor. Thicken it with flour, and flavour with port wine and ketchup, in the above proportion; add a seasoning of pepper and salt, and put in the pieces of goose; let these get thoroughly hot through, but do not allow them to boil, and serve with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--Altogether, rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold goose, 4d. _Seasonable_ from September to March. THE WILD GOOSE.--This bird is sometimes called the "Gray-lag" and is the original of the domestic goose. It is, according to Pennant, the only species which the Britons could take young, and familiarize. "The Gray-lag," says Mr. Gould, "is known to Persia, and we believe it is generally dispersed over Asia Minor." It is the bird that saved the Capitol by its vigilance, and by the Romans was cherished accordingly. ROAST GOOSE. 968. INGREDIENTS.--Goose, 4 large onions, 10 sage-leaves, 1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, 1 egg. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Select a goose with a clean white skin, plump breast, and yellow feet: if these latter are red, the bird is old. Should the weather permit, let it hang for a few days: by so doing, the flavour will be very much improved. Pluck, singe, draw, and carefully wash and wipe the goose; cut off the neck close to the back, leaving the skin long enough to turn over; cut off the feet at the first joint, and separate the pinions at the first joint. Beat the breast-bone flat with a rolling-pin, put a skewer through the under part of each wing, and having drawn up the legs closely, put a skewer into the middle of each, and pass the same quite through the body. Insert another skewer into the small of the leg, bring it close down to the side bone, run it through, and do the same to the other side. Now cut off the end of the vent, and make a hole in the skin sufficiently large for the passage of the rump, in order to keep in the seasoning. [Illustration: ROAST GOOSE.] _Mode_.--Make a sage-and-onion stuffing of the above ingredients, by recipe No. 504; put it into the body of the goose, and secure it firmly at both ends, by passing the rump through the hole made in the skin, and the other end by tying the skin of the neck to the back; by this means the seasoning will not escape. Put it down to a brisk fire, keep it well basted, and roast from 1-1/2 to 2 hours, according to the size. Remove the skewers, and serve with a tureen of good gravy, and one of well-made apple-sauce. Should a very highly-flavoured seasoning be preferred, the onions should not be parboiled, but minced raw: of the two methods, the mild seasoning is far superior. A ragoût, or pie, should be made of the giblets, or they may be stewed down to make gravy. Be careful to serve the goose before the breast falls, or its appearance will be spoiled by coming flattened to table. As this is rather a troublesome joint to carve, a _large_ quantity of gravy should not be poured round the goose, but sent in a tureen. _Time_.--A large goose, 1-3/4 hour; a moderate-sized one, 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ from September to March; but in perfection from Michaelmas to Christmas. _Average cost_, 5s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 8 or 9 persons. _Note_.--A teaspoonful of made mustard, a saltspoonful of salt, a few grains of cayenne, mixed with a glass of port wine, are sometimes poured into the goose by a slit made in the apron. This sauce is, by many persons, considered an improvement. [Illustration: EMDEN GOOSE.] THE GOOSE.--This bird is pretty generally distributed over the face of the globe, being met with in North America, Lapland, Iceland, Arabia, and Persia. Its varieties are numerous; but in England there is only one species, which is supposed to be a native breed. The best geese are found on the borders of Suffolk, and in Norfolk and Berkshire; but the largest flocks are reared in the fens of Lincolnshire and Cambridge. They thrive best where they have an easy access to water, and large herds of them are sent every year to London, to be fattened by the metropolitan poulterers. "A Michaelmas goose," says Dr. Kitchener, "is as famous in the mouths of the million as the minced-pie at Christmas; yet for those who eat with delicacy, it is, at that time, too full-grown. The true period when the goose is in the highest perfection is when it has just acquired its full growth, and not begun to harden; if the March goose is insipid, the Michaelmas goose is rank. The fine time is between both; from the second week in June to the first in September." It is said that the Michaelmas goose is indebted to Queen Elizabeth for its origin on the table at that season. Her majesty happened to dine on one at the table of an English baronet, when she received the news of the discomfiture of the Spanish Armada. In commemoration of this event, she commanded the goose to make its appearance at table on every Michaelmas. We here give an engraving of the Emden goose. TO DRESS A GREEN GOOSE. 969. INGREDIENTS.--Goose, 3 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Geese are called green till they are about four months old, and should not be stuffed. After it has been singed and trussed, the same as in the preceding recipe, put into the body a seasoning of pepper and salt, and the butter to moisten it inside. Roast before a clear fire for about 3/4 hour, froth and brown it nicely, and serve with a brown gravy, and, when liked, gooseberry-sauce. This dish should be garnished with water-cresses. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 4s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August. [Illustration: TOULOUSE GOOSE.] THE EGYPTIAN GOOSE.--Especial attention has been directed to this bird by Herodotus, who says it was held sacred by the ancient Egyptians, which has been partially confirmed by modern travellers. Mr. Salt remarks, "Horus Apollo says the old geese stay with their young in the most imminent danger, at the risk of their own lives, which I have myself frequently witnessed. Vielpanser is the goose of the Nile, and wherever this goose is represented on the walls of the temples in colours, the resemblance may be clearly traced." The goose is also said to have been a bird under the care of Isis. It has been placed by Mr. Gould amongst the birds of Europe; not from the number of half-reclaimed individuals which are annually shot in Britain, but from the circumstance of its occasionally visiting the southern parts of the continent from its native country, Africa. The Toulouse goose, of which we give an engraving, is a well-known bird. ROAST GUINEA-FOWL, Larded. 970. INGREDIENTS.--A Guinea-fowl, lardoons, flour, and salt. _Mode_.--When this bird is larded, it should be trussed the same as a pheasant; if plainly roasted, truss it like a turkey. After larding and trussing it, put it down to roast at a brisk fire; keep it well basted, and a short time before serving, dredge it with a little flour, and let it froth nicely. Serve with a little gravy in the dish, and a tureen of the same, and one of well-made bread-sauce. _Time_.--Guinea-fowl, larded, 1-1/4 hour; plainly roasted, about 1 hour. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Note_.--The breast, if larded, should be covered with a piece of paper, and removed about 10 minutes before serving. [Illustration: GUINEA-FOWLS.] THE GUINEA-FOWL.--The bird takes its name from Guinea, in Africa, where it is found--wild, and in great abundance. It is gregarious in its habits, associating in flocks of two or three hundred, delighting in marshy grounds, and at night perching upon trees, or on high situations. Its size is about the same as that of a common hen, but it stands higher on its legs. Though domesticated, it retains much of its wild nature, and is apt to wander. The hens lay abundantly, and the eggs are excellent. In their flesh, however, they are not so white as the common fowl, but more inclined to the colour of the pheasant, for which it frequently makes a good substitute at table. The flesh is both savoury and easy of digestion, and is in season when game is out of season. LARK PIE (an Entree). 971. INGREDIENTS.--A few thin slices of beef, the same of bacon, 9 larks, flour; for stuffing, 1 teacupful of bread crumbs, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley, 1 egg, salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoonful of chopped shalot, 1/2 pint of weak stock or water, puff-paste. _Mode_.--Make a stuffing of bread crumbs, minced lemon-peel, parsley, and the yolk of an egg, all of which should be well mixed together; roll the larks in flour, and stuff them. Line the bottom of a pie-dish with a few slices of beef and bacon; over these place the larks, and season with salt, pepper, minced parsley, and chopped shalot, in the above proportion. Pour in the stock or water, cover with crust, and bake for an hour in a moderate oven. During the time the pie is baking, shake it 2 or 3 times, to assist in thickening the gravy, and serve very hot. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. a dozen. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--In full season in November. ROAST LARKS. 972. INGREDIENTS.--Larks, egg and bread crumbs, fresh butter. _Mode_.--These birds are by many persons esteemed a great delicacy, and may be either roasted or broiled. Pick, gut, and clean them; when they are trussed, brush them over with the yolk of an egg; sprinkle with bread crumbs, and roast them before a quick fire; baste them continually with fresh butter, and keep sprinkling with the bread crumbs until the birds are well covered. Dish them on bread crumbs fried in clarified butter, and garnish the dish with slices of lemon. Broiled larks are also very excellent: they should be cooked over a clear fire, and would take about 10 minutes or 1/4 hour. _Time_.--1/4 hour to roast; 10 minutes to broil. _Seasonable_.--In full season in November. _Note_.--Larks may also be plainly roasted, without covering them with egg and bread crumbs; they should be dished on fried crumbs. BROILED PIGEONS. 973. INGREDIENTS.--Pigeons, 3 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Take care that the pigeons are quite fresh, and carefully pluck, draw, and wash them; split the backs, rub the birds over with butter, season them with pepper and salt, and broil them over a moderate fire for 1/4 hour or 20 minutes. Serve very hot, with either mushroom-sauce or a good gravy. Pigeons may also be plainly boiled, and served with parsley and butter; they should be trussed like boiled fowls, and take from 1/4 hour to 20 minutes to boil. _Time_.--To broil a pigeon, from 1/4 hour to 20 minutes; to boil one, the same time. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 9d. each. _Seasonable_ from April to September, but in the greatest perfection from midsummer to Michaelmas. THE POUTER PIGEON.--This is a very favourite pigeon, and, without doubt, the most curious of his species. He is a tail strong bird, as he had need be to carry about his great inflated crop, frequently as large and as round as a middling-sized turnip. A perfect pouter, seen on a windy day, is certainly a ludicrous sight: his feathered legs have the appearance of white trousers; his tapering tail looks like a swallow-tailed coat; his head is entirely concealed by his immense windy protuberance; and, altogether, he reminds you of a little "swell" of a past century, staggering under a bale of linen. The most common pouters are the blues, buffs, and whites, or an intermixture of all these various colours. The pouter is not a prolific breeder, is a bad nurse, and more likely to degenerate, if not repeatedly crossed and re-crossed with Irish stock, than any other pigeon: nevertheless, it is a useful bird to keep if you are founding a new colony, as it is much attached to its home, and little apt to stray; consequently it is calculated to induce more restless birds to fettle down and make themselves comfortable. If you wish to breed pouters, you cannot do worse than intrust them with the care of their own eggs. ROAST PIGEONS. 974. INGREDIENTS.--Pigeons, 3 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Trussing_.--Pigeons, to be good, should be eaten fresh (if kept a little, the flavour goes off), and they should be drawn as soon as killed. Cut off the heads and necks, truss the wings over the backs, and cut off the toes at the first joint: previous to trussing, they should be carefully cleaned, as no bird requires so much washing. [Illustration: ROAST PIGEON.] _Mode_.--Wipe the birds very dry, season them inside with pepper and salt, and put about 3/4 oz. of butter into the body of each: this makes them moist. Put them down to a bright fire, and baste them well the whole of the time they are cooking (they will be done enough in from 20 to 30 minutes); garnish with fried parsley, and serve with a tureen of parsley and butter. Bread-sauce and gravy, the same as for roast fowl, are exceedingly nice accompaniments to roast pigeons, as also egg-sauce. _Time_.--From 20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. to 9d. each. _Seasonable_ from April to September; but in the greatest perfection from Midsummer to Michaelmas. THE PIGEON--The pigeon tribe forms a connecting ling between the passerine birds and poultry. They are widely distributed over the world, some of the species being found even in the arctic regions. Their chief food is grain, and they drink much; not at intervals, like other birds, but by a continuous draught, like quadrupeds. The wild pigeon, or stockdove, is the parent whence all the varieties of the domestic pigeon are derived. In the wild state it is still found in many parts of this island, making its nest in the holes of rocks, in the hollows of trees, or in old towers, but never, like the ringdove, on branches. The blue house-pigeon is the variety principally reared for the table in this country, and is produced from our farmyards in great numbers. When young, and still fed by their parents, they are most preferable for the table, and are called _squabs_; under six months they are denominated _squeakers_, and at six months they begin to breed. Their flesh is accounted savoury, delicate, and stimulating, and the dark-coloured birds are considered to have the highest flavour, whilst the light are esteemed to have the more delicate flesh. THE PIGEON-HOUSE, OR DOVECOT.--The first thing to be done towards keeping pigeons is to provide a commodious place for their reception; and the next is, to provide the pigeons themselves. The situation or size of the dovecot will necessarily depend on convenience; but there is one point which must invariably be observed, and that is, that every pair of pigeons has two holes or rooms to nest in. This is indispensable, as, without it, there will be no security, but the constant prospect of confusion, breaking of eggs, and the destruction of young. The proper place for the pigeon-house is the poultry-yard; but it does very well near dwellings, stables, brewhouses, bakehouses, or such offices. Some persons keep pigeons in rooms, and have them making their nests on the floor. The object is to escape the danger of the young falling out; but in such cases, there is a great risk of rats or other vermin getting at the pigeons. ASPECT OF THE PIGEON-HOUSE.--The front of the pigeon-house should have a southwest aspect, and, if a room be selected for the purpose, it is usual to break a hole in the roof of the building for the passage of the pigeons, but which can be closed at convenience. A platform ought to be laid at the entrance for the pigeons to perch upon, with some kind of defence against strange cats, which will frequently depopulate a whole dovecot. Yet, although cats are dangerous neighbours for the birds, they are necessary to defend them from the approach of rats and mice, which will not only suck the eggs, but destroy the birds. The platform should be painted white, and renewed as the paint wears off, white being a favourite colour with pigeons, and also most conspicuous as a mark to enable them to find their house. The boxes ought also to be similarly painted, and renewed when necessary, for which purpose lime and water will do very well. THE NECESSITY OF CLEANLINESS.--As cleanliness in human habitations is of the first importance, so is it in the pigeon-house. There the want of it will soon render the place a nuisance not to be approached, and the birds, both young and old, will be so covered with vermin and filth, that they will neither enjoy health nor comforts, whilst early mortality amongst them will be almost certain. In some cases, the pigeon-house is cleaned daily; but it should always be done, at any rate, once a week, and the floor covered with sifted gravel, frequently renewed. Pigeons being exceedingly fond of water, and having a prescience of the coming of rain, they may be seen upon the house-tops waiting upon it until late in the evening, and then spreading their wings to receive the luxury of the refreshing shower. When they are confined in a room, therefore, they should be allowed a wide pan of water, to be often renewed. This serves them for a bath, which cools, refreshes, and assists them to keep their bodies clear of vermin. BREEDING PIGEONS.--In breeding pigeons, it is necessary to match a cock and hen, and shut them up together, or place them near to each other, and in the course of a day or two there is little doubt of their mating. Various rules have been laid down for the purpose of assisting to distinguish the cock from the hen pigeon; but the masculine forwardness and action of the cock is generally so remarkable, that he is easily ascertained. The pigeon being monogamous, the male attaches and confines himself to one female, and the attachment is reciprocal, and the fidelity of the dove to its mate is proverbial. At the age of six months, young pigeons are termed squeakers, and then begin to breed, when properly managed. Their courtship, and the well-known tone of voice in the cock, just then acquired and commencing, are indications of their approaching union. Nestlings, while fed by cock and hen, are termed squabs, and are, at that age, sold and used for the table. The dove-house pigeon is said to breed monthly, when well supplied with food. At all events, it may be depended on, that pigeons of almost any healthy and well-established variety will breed eight or nine times in the year; whence it may readily be conceived how vast are the numbers that may be raised. [Illustration: CARRIER PIGEONS.] THE CARRIER PIGEON.--Without doubt the carrier is entitled to rank first in the pigeon family, with the exception, perhaps, of the blue-rock pigeons. No domestic fowl can be traced to so remote an antiquity. When Greece was in its glory, carrier pigeons were used to convey to distant parts the names of the victors at the Olympian games. During the holy war, when Acre was besieged by King Richard, Saladin habitually corresponded with the besieged by means of carrier pigeons. A shaft from an English crossbow, however, happened to bring one of those feathered messengers to the ground, and the stratagem was discovered, the design of the Saracens revealed, and so turned against the designers, that Acre was in the hands of the Christians before the wily Saladin dreamt of such a thing. PIGEON PIE (Epsom Grand-Stand Recipe). 975. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of rump-steak, 2 or 3 pigeons, 3 slices of ham, pepper and salt to taste, 2 oz. of butter, 4 eggs, puff crust. _Mode_.--Cut the steak into pieces about 3 inches square, and with it line the bottom of a pie-dish, seasoning it well with pepper and salt. Clean the pigeons, rub them with pepper and salt inside and out, and put into the body of each rather more than 1/2 oz. of butter; lay them on the steak, and a piece of ham on each pigeon. Add the yolks of 4 eggs, and half fill the dish with stock; place a border of puff paste round the edge of the dish, put on the cover, and ornament it in any way that may be preferred. Clean three of the feet, and place them in a hole made in the crust at the top: this shows what kind of pie it is. Glaze the crust,--that is to say, brush it over with the yolk of an egg,--and bake it in a well-heated oven for about 1-1/4 hour. When liked, a seasoning of pounded mace may be added. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour, or rather less. _Average cost_, 5s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: TUMBLER PIGEONS.] TUMBLER PIGEONS.--The smaller the size of this variety, the greater its value. The head should be round and smooth, the neck thin, and the tail similar to that of the turbit. Highly-bred birds of this variety will attain an elevation in their flight beyond that of any other pigeons; and it is in seeing these little birds wing themselves so far into the skies that the fanciers take such delight. For four or five hours tumblers have been known to keep on the wing; and it is when they are almost lost to the power of human vision that they exhibit those pantomimic feats which give them their name, and which are marked by a tumbling over-and-over process, which suggests the idea of their having suddenly become giddy, been deprived of their self-control, or overtaken by some calamity. This acrobatic propensity in these pigeons has been ascribed by some to the absence of a proper power in the tail; but is nothing more than a natural habit, for which no adequate reason can be assigned. Of this variety, the Almond Tumbler is the most beautiful; and the greater the variation of the colour in the flight and tail, the greater their value. [Illustration: RUNT PIGEONS.] THE RUNT PIGEON.--This is generally esteemed among the largest of the pigeon varieties, and being possessed of proportionate strength, with a strong propensity to exercise it, they keep the dovecot in a state of almost continual commotion by domineering over the weaker inmates. They breed tolerably well, however, and are valuable for the table. There is both the Leghorn and the Spanish Runt, variously plumaged; but when red, white, or black mottled, are most highly esteemed. One of the great advantages connected with the Runt is, that he is not likely to fly away from home. Being heavy birds, they find it difficult, when well fed, to mount even to a low housetop. Again, they require no loft, or special dwelling-place, but, if properly tended, will be perfectly satisfied, and thrive as well, in a rabbit-hutch as any where. Their flavour is very good; and it is not an uncommon thing for a squeaker Runt to exceed a pound and a quarter in weight. [Illustration: NUN PIGEONS.] THE NUN PIGEON.--The Tumbler bears a strong resemblance to this variety, which is characterized by a tuft of feathers rising from the back of the head, and which, on the whole, is an extremely pretty little bird. According to the colour of the head, it is called the red, black, or yellow-headed Nun. To be a perfect bird, it should have a small head and beak; and the larger the tuft at the back of his head, the handsomer the bird is esteemed, and proportionately valuable in the eyes of pigeon-fanciers. [Illustration: TRUMPETER PIGEONS.] THE TRUMPETER PIGEON.--From the circumstance of this bird imitating the sound of a trumpet, instead of cooing, like other pigeons, it has received its designation. It is of the middle size, having its legs and feet covered with feathers, and its plumage generally of a mottled black-and-white. It has a tuft springing from the root of its beak, and the larger this topknot is, the higher the estimation in which the breed is held. In their powers of trumpeting some are more expert than others; and whether this has any effect in influencing their own estimate of themselves, we cannot say; but they are rather select in the choice of their company. If two of them are put in a pigeon-house with other doves, it will be found that they confine their association almost entirely to each other. As much as two guineas have been paid for a well-trained docile bird of this kind. [Illustration: WOOD-PIGEON.] THE WOOD, OR WILD PIGEON.--Buffon enumerates upwards of thirty varieties of the pigeon, which he derives from one root,--viz. the stockdove, or common wild pigeon. All the varieties of colour and form which we witness, he attributes to human contrivance and fancy. Nevertheless, there exist essentially specific differences in these birds, which would appear to be attributable rather to the nature of the region, soil, and climate to which they are indigenous, than to the art and ingenuity of man. The stockdove, in its wild state, is still found in some parts of Britain, forming its nest in the holes of rocks, old towers, and in the hollows of trees; it never, however, like the ringdove, nestles in the branches. Multitudes of wild pigeons still visit our shores in the winter, coming from their more northerly retreats, making their appearance about November, and retiring again in the spring. When forests of beechwood covered large tracts of the ground of this country, these birds used to haunt them in myriads, frequently covering a mile of ground in extent when they went out in the morning to feed. STEWED PIGEONS. 976. INGREDIENTS.--6 pigeons, a few slices of bacon, 3 oz. of butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced parsley, sufficient stock No. 104 to cover the pigeons, thickening of butter and flour, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, 1 tablespoonful of port wine. _Mode_.--Empty and clean the pigeons thoroughly, mince the livers, add to these the parsley and butter, and put it into the insides of the birds. Truss them with the legs inward, and put them into a stewpan, with a few slices of bacon placed under and over them; add the stock, and stew gently for rather more than 1/2 hour. Dish the pigeons, strain the gravy, thicken it with butter and flour, add the ketchup and port wine, give one boil, pour over the pigeons, and serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. to 9d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from April to September. [Illustration: FANTAIL PIGEONS.] THE FANTAIL PIGEON.--This curious variety is inferior in point of size to most of the other varieties, and is characterized by having a short, slender bill, pendent wings, and naked legs and feet. It has the power of erecting its tail in the manner of a turkey-cock; during which action, especially when paying court to it's mate, it trembles or shakes, like the peacock when moving about with his train expanded and in full display. This power of erecting and spreading the tail is not confined to the male bird alone: the female possesses the same power to an equal extent, and otherwise resembles the male in every respect. It is not very prolific, and seldom succeeds so well in the aviary or pigeon-house as most of the other kinds. [Illustration: JACOBIN PIGEONS.] THE JACOBIN PIGEON.--This variety, having the power to transmit to posterity a form precisely similar, with all its peculiar characters undiminished, is, among pigeon-fanciers, designated as of a pure or permanent race. It is distinguished by a remarkable ruff or frill of raised feathers, which, commencing behind the head and proceeding down the neck and breast, forms a kind of hood, not unlike that worn by a monk. From this circumstance, it has obtained its Gallic name of _nonnain capuchin_. In size it is one of the smallest of the domestic pigeons, and its form is light and elegant. It is a very productive species, and, having its flight considerably impeded by the size and form of its hooded frill, keeps much at home, and is well adapted for the aviary or other buildings where pigeons are confined. [Illustration: TURBIT PIGEONS.] THE TURBIT PIGEON.--This variety bears a strong resemblance to the Jacobin, having a kind of frill in the fore part of its neck, occasioned by the breast-feathers lying contrariwise and standing straight out. The species is classed in accordance with the colour of the shoulders, similarly as the Nuns are by the colour of their heads. Their characteristics of excellence are a full frill, short bill, and small round head. In Germany it is called the ruffle pigeon, in allusion to the feathers on its breast; and it has rarely any feathers on its feet. There is a peculiarity connected with this bird, which somewhat lowers it in the estimation of fanciers: it seldom rears more than one at a time, which, therefore, marks it as a bird rather for amusement than profit. [Illustration: BARB PIGEONS.] THE BARB PIGEON.--The name of this variety is a contraction of Barbary, from which country it originally comes. It is both prolific and has excellent qualities as a nurse. The kind most esteemed is that of one uniform colour, that of blue-black being preferable to any other. Speckled or mottled Barbs are esteemed the most common of all pigeons. It is not unlike the Carrier pigeon, and, at a small distance, might easily be mistaken for the latter. It has a short beak and a small wattle. A spongy, pinky skin round the eyes is its chief characteristic, however, and this increases in size till the bird is three or four years old. This peculiarity is hardly distinguishable in very young birds. [Illustration: BLUE ROCK-PIGEON.] THE ROCK PIGEON.--This variety, in its wild state, is found upon the rocky parts of the west of Scotland, and the bold shores of the Western Isles, more abundant than in any other parts of the British islands. As the shores of the mainland are exposed to the muds of the Atlantic, and the comparatively small islands are surrounded by that ocean, the low grounds exposed to the west are seldom covered with snow for any length of time, and thus the birds easily find a supply of food. The numbers which there congregate are often very great, and the din of their united cry is sometimes very loud and even alarming. The love of home and the certainty of returning to it is very conspicuous in the rock-pigeon or _biset_, as it is called by the French. Flocks from different parts of the coasts often meet on the feeding-grounds; but when the time of returning to rest comes round, each one keeps to its own party. [Illustration: OWL PIGEONS.] THE OWL PIGEON.--This pigeon does not seem to be so well known as it formerly was, if we may judge from the fact that few modern writers mention it. Like the Turbit pigeon, the Owl has a remarkable tuft of feathers on the breast, it having been compared by some to the frill of a shirt, and by others to a full-blown white rose. In size, it is not quite so large a pigeon as the Jacobin. It is said to be preferred in France, above other varieties, as a bird to rear and kill for the table. In England it is very far from being common; indeed, we have applied to several keepers of pigeons, who have fancied themselves acquainted with all the varieties of this bird, and they have been able to tell us nothing of it. Mr. Harrison Weir, our artist, however, has made his portrait from the life. BOILED RABBIT. [Illustration: BOILED RABBIT.] 977. INGREDIENTS.--Rabbit; water. _Mode_.--For boiling, choose rabbits with smooth and sharp claws, as that denotes they are young: should these be blunt and rugged, the ears dry and tough, the animal is old. After emptying and skinning it, wash it well in cold water, and let it soak for about 1/4 hour in warm water, to draw out the blood. Bring the head round to the side, and fasten it there by means of a skewer run through that and the body. Put the rabbit into sufficient hot water to cover it, let it boil very gently until tender, which will be in from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, according to its size and age. Dish it, and smother it either with onion, mushroom, or liver sauce, or parsley-and-butter; the former is, however, generally preferred to any of the last-named sauces. When liver-sauce is preferred, the liver should be boiled for a few minutes, and minced very finely, or rubbed through a sieve before it is added to the sauce. _Time_.--A very young rabbit, 1/2 hour; a large one, 3/4 hour; an old one, 1 hour or longer. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. THE RABBIT.--Though this animal is an inhabitant of most temperate climates, it does not reach so far north as the hare. The wild rabbit is a native of Great Britain, and is found in large numbers in the sandy districts of Norfolk and Cambridgeshire. Its flesh is, by some, considered to have a higher flavour than that of the tame rabbit, although it is neither so white nor so delicate. The animal, however, becomes larger and fatter in the tame than in the wild state; but it is not desirable to have it so fat as it can be made. CURRIED RABBIT. 978. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, 2 oz. of butter, 3 onions, 1 pint of stock No. 104, 1 tablespoonful of curry powder, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 teaspoonful of mushroom powder, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 1/2 lb. of rice. _Mode_.--Empty, skin, and wash the rabbit thoroughly, and cut it neatly into joints. Put it into a stewpan with the butter and sliced onions, and let them acquire a nice brown colour, but do not allow them to blacken. Pour in the stock, which should be boiling; mix the curry powder and flour smoothly with a little water, add it to the stock, with the mushroom powder, and simmer gently for rather more than 1/2 hour; squeeze in the lemon-juice, and serve in the centre of a dish, with an edging of boiled rice all round. Where economy is studied, water may be substituted for the stock; in this case, the meat and onions must be very nicely browned. A little sour apple and rasped cocoa-nut stewed with the curry will be found a great improvement. _Time_.--Altogether 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. [Illustration: WILD RABBITS.] THE COMMON OR WILD RABBIT.--Warrens, or inclosures, are frequently made in favourable localities, and some of them are so large as to comprise 2,000 acres. The common wild rabbit is of a grey colour, and is esteemed the best for the purposes of food. Its skin is valuable as an article of commerce, being used for the making of hats. Another variety of the rabbit, however, called the "silver-grey," has been lately introduced to this country, and is still more valuable. Its colour is a black ground, thickly interspersed with grey hairs; and its powers as a destroyer and consumer of vegetable food are well known to be enormous, especially by those who have gardens in the vicinity of a rabbit-warren. FRIED RABBIT. 979. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, flour, dripping, 1 oz. of butter, 1 teaspoonful of minced shalot, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut the rabbit into neat joints, and flour them well; make the dripping boiling in a fryingpan, put in the rabbit, and fry it a nice brown. Have ready a very hot dish, put in the butter, shalot, and ketchup; arrange the rabbit pyramidically on this, and serve as quickly as possible. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. _Note_.--The rabbit may be brushed over with egg, and sprinkled with bread crumbs, and fried as above. When cooked in this manner, make a gravy in the pan by recipe No. 866, and pour it round, but not over, the pieces of rabbit. VARIETIES IN RABBITS.--Almost everybody knows that a rabbit is a furry animal, that lives on plants, and burrows in the ground; that it has its varieties as well as other animals, and that it is frequently an especial favourite with boys. Among its varieties, the short-legged, with width and substance of loin, is the most hardy, and fattens the most expeditiously. It has, besides, the soundest liver, rabbits generally being subject to defects of that part. It is also the smallest variety. There is a very large species of the hare-colour, having much bone, length and depth of carcase, large and long ears, with full eyes, resembling those of the hare: it might readily be taken for a hybrid or mule, but for the objection to its breeding. Its flesh is high-coloured, substantial, and more savoury than that of the common rabbit; and, cooked like the hare, it makes a good dish. The large white, and yellow and white species, have whiter and more delicate flesh, and, cooked in the same way, will rival the turkey. Rabbits are divided into four kinds, distinguished as warreners, parkers, hedgehogs, and sweethearts. The warrener, as his name implies, is a member of a subterranean community, and is less effeminate than his kindred who dwell _upon_ the earth and have "the world at their will," and his fur is the most esteemed. After him, comes the parker, whose favourite resort is a gentleman's pleasure-ground, where he usually breeds in great numbers, and from which he frequently drives away the hares. The hedgehog is a sort of vagabond rabbit, that, tinker like, roams about the country, and would have a much better coat on his back if he was more settled in his habits, and remained more at home. The sweetheart is a tame rabbit, with its fur so sleek, soft, and silky, that it is also used to some extent in the important branch of hat-making. RABBIT A LA MINUTE. 980. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, 1/4 lb. of butter, salt and pepper to taste, 2 blades of pounded mace, 3 dried mushrooms, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced parsley, 2 teaspoonfuls of flour, 2 glasses of sherry, 1 pint of water. _Mode_.--Empty, skin, and wash the rabbit thoroughly, and cut it into joints. Put the butter into a stewpan with the pieces of rabbit; add salt, pepper, and pounded mace, and let it cook until three parts done; then put in the remaining ingredients, and boil for about 10 minutes: it will then be ready to serve. Fowls or hare may be dressed in the same manner. _Time_.--Altogether, 35 minutes. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. RABBIT PIE. 981. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, a few slices of ham, salt and white pepper to taste, 2 blades of pounded mace, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, a few forcemeat balls, 3 hard-boiled eggs, 1/2 pint of gravy, puff crust. _Mode_.--Cut up the rabbit (which should be young), remove the breastbone, and bone the legs. Put the rabbit, slices of ham, forcemeat balls, and hard eggs, by turns, in layers, and season each layer with pepper, salt, pounded mace, and grated nutmeg. Pour in about 1/2 pint of water, cover with crust, and bake in a well-heated oven for about 1-1/2 hour. Should the crust acquire too much colour, place a piece of paper over it to prevent its burning. When done, pour in at the top, by means of the hole in the middle of the crust, a little good gravy, which may be made of the breast- and leg-bones of the rabbit and 2 or 3 shank-bones, flavoured with onion, herbs, and spices. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. Note.--The liver of the rabbit may be boiled, minced, and mixed with the forcemeat balls, when the flavour is liked. FECUNDITY OF THE RABBIT.--The fruitfulness of this animal has been the subject of wonder to all naturalists. It breeds seven times in the year, and generally begets seven or eight young ones at a time. If we suppose this to happen regularly for a period of four years, the progeny that would spring from a single pair would amount to more than a million. As the rabbit, however, has many enemies, it can never be permitted to increase in numbers to such an extent as to prove injurious to mankind; for it not only furnishes man with an article of food, but is, by carnivorous animals of every description, mercilessly sacrificed. Notwithstanding this, however, in the time of the Roman power, they once infested the Balearic islands to such an extent, that the inhabitants were obliged to implore the assistance of a military force from Augustus to exterminate them. RAGOUT OF RABBIT OR HARE. 982. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, 3 teaspoonfuls of flour, 3 sliced onions, 2 oz. of butter, a few thin slices of bacon, pepper and salt to taste, 2 slices of lemon, 1 bay-leaf, 1 glass of port wine. _Mode_.--Slice the onions, and put them into a stewpan with the flour and butter; place the pan near the fire, stir well as the butter melts, till the onions become a rich brown colour, and add, by degrees, a little water or gravy till the mixture is of the consistency of cream. Cut some thin slices of bacon; lay in these with the rabbit, cut into neat joints; add a seasoning of pepper and salt, the lemon and bay-leaf, and let the whole simmer until tender. Pour in the port wine, give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour to simmer the rabbit. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. THE RABBIT-HOUSE.--Rabbit-keeping is generally practised by a few individuals in almost every town, and by a few in almost every part of the country. Forty years ago, there were in the metropolis one or two considerable feeders, who, according to report, kept from 1,600 to 2,000 breeding does. These large establishments, however, have ceased to exist, and London receives the supply of tame as well as wild rabbits chiefly from the country. Where they are kept, however, the rabbit-house should be placed upon a dry foundation, and be well ventilated. Exposure to rain, whether externally or internally, is fatal to rabbits, which, like sheep, are liable to the rot, springing from the same causes. Thorough ventilation and good air are indispensable where many rabbits are kept, or they will neither prosper nor remain healthy for any length of time. A thorough draught or passage for the air is, therefore, absolutely necessary, and should be so contrived as to be checked in cold or wet weather by the closing or shutting of opposite doors or windows. ROAST OR BAKED RABBIT. 983. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, forcemeat No. 417, buttered paper, sausage-meat. [Illustration: ROAST RABBIT.] _Mode_.--Empty, skin, and thoroughly wash the rabbit; wipe it dry, line the inside with sausage-meat and forcemeat made by recipe No. 417, and to which has been added the minced liver. Sew the stuffing inside, skewer back the head between the shoulders, cut off the fore-joints of the shoulders and legs, bring: them close to the body, and secure them by means of a skewer. Wrap the rabbit in buttered paper, and put it down to a bright clear fire; keep it well basted, and a few minutes before it is done remove the paper, flour and froth it, and let it acquire a nice brown colour. Take out the skewers, and serve with brown gravy and red-currant jelly. To bake the rabbit, proceed in the same manner as above; in a good oven, it will take about the same time as roasting. _Time_.--A young rabbit, 35 minutes; a large one, about 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. THE HUTCH.--Hutches are generally placed one above another to the height required by the number of rabbits and the extent of the room. Where a large stock is kept, to make the most of room, the hutches may be placed in rows, with a sufficient interval between for feeding and cleaning, instead of being, in the usual way, joined to the wall. It is preferable to rest the hutches upon stands, about a foot above the ground, for the convenience of cleaning under them. Each of the hutches intended for breeding should have two rooms,--a feeding and a bed-room. Those are single for the use of the weaned rabbits, or for the bucks, which are always kept separate. The floors should be planed smooth, that wet may run off, and a common hoe, with a short handle, and a short broom, are most convenient implements for cleaning these houses. STEWED RABBIT. 984. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, 2 large onions, 6 cloves, 1 small teaspoonful of chopped lemon-peel, a few forcemeat balls, thickening of butter and flour, 1 large tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut the rabbit into small joints; put them into a stewpan, add the onions sliced, the cloves, and minced lemon-peel. Pour in sufficient water to cover the meat, and, when the rabbit is nearly done, drop in a few forcemeat balls, to which has been added the liver, finely chopped. Thicken the gravy with flour and butter, put in the ketchup, give one boil, and serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. to 1s. 6d each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. [Illustration: LOP-EARED RABBIT.] FANCY RABBITS.--The graceful fall of the ears is the first thing that is looked to by the fancier; next, the dewlap, if the animal is in its prime; then the colours and marked points, and, lastly, the shape and general appearance. The ears of a fine rabbit should extend not less than seven inches, measured from tip to tip in a line across the skull; but even should they exceed this length, they are admitted with reluctance into a fancy stock, unless they have a uniform and graceful droop. The dewlap, which is a fold of skin under the neck and throat, is only seen in fancy rabbits, after they have attained their full growth: it commences immediately under the jaw, and adds greatly to the beauty of their appearance. It goes down the throat and between the fore legs, and is so broad that it projects beyond the chin. The difference between the fancy and common rabbit in the back, independent of the ears, is sufficient to strike the common observer. Fancy rabbits fetch a very high price; so much as five and ten guineas, and even more, is sometimes given for a first-rate doe. If young ones are first procured from a good family, the foundation of an excellent stock can be procured for a much smaller sum. Sometimes the ears, instead of drooping down, slope backwards: a rabbit with this characteristic is scarcely admitted into a fancy lot, and is not considered worth more than the common variety. The next position is when one ear lops outwards, and the other stands erect: rabbits of this kind possess but little value, however fine the shape and beautiful the colour, although they sometimes breed as good specimens as finer ones. The forward or horn-lop is one degree nearer perfection than the half-lop: the ears, in this case, slope forward and down over the forehead. Rabbits with this peculiarity are often perfect in other respects, with the exception of the droop of the ears, and often become the parents of perfect young ones: does of this kind often have the power of lifting an ear erect. In the ear-lop, the ears spread out in an horizontal position, like the wings of a bird in flight, or the arms of a man swimming. A great many excellent does have this characteristic, and some of the best-bred bucks in the fancy are entirely so. Sometimes a rabbit drops one ear completely, but raises the other so neatly horizontally as to constitute an ear-lop: this is superior to all others, except the perfect fall, which is so rarely to be met with, that those which are merely ear-lopped are considered as valuable rabbits, if well bred and with other good qualities. "The real lop has ears that hang down by the side of the cheek, slanting somewhat outward in their descent, with the open part of the ear inward, and sometimes either backwards or forwards instead of perpendicular: when the animals stand in an easy position, the tips of the ears touch the ground. The hollows of the ears, in a fancy rabbit of a first-rate kind, should be turned so completely backwards that only the outer part of them should remain in front: they should match exactly in their descent, and should slant outwards as little as possible." The same authority asserts that perfect lops are so rare, that a breeder possessing twenty of the handsomest and most perfect does would consider himself lucky if, in the course of a year, he managed to raise twelve full-lopped rabbits out of them all. As regards variety and purity of colour an experienced breeder says:-- "The fur of fancy rabbits may be blue, or rather lead-colour, and white, or black and white, or tawny and white, that is, tortoiseshell-coloured. But it is not of so much importance what colours the coat of a rabbit displays, as it is that those colours shall be arranged in a particular manner, forming imaginary figures or fancied resemblances to certain objects. Hence the peculiarities of their markings have been denoted by distinctive designations. What is termed 'the blue butterfly smut' was, for some time, considered the most valuable of fancy rabbits. It is thus named on account of having bluish or lead-coloured spots on either side of the nose, having some resemblance to the spread wings of a butterfly, what may be termed the groundwork of the rabbit's face being white. A black and white rabbit may also have the face marked in a similar manner, constituting a 'black butterfly smut.' "But A good fancy rabbit must likewise have other marks, without which it cannot be considered a perfect model of its kind. There should be a black or blue patch on its back, called the saddle; the tail must be of the same colour with the back and snout; while the legs should be all white; and there ought to be dark stripes on both sides of the body in front, passing backwards to meet the saddle, and uniting on the top of the shoulders at the part called the withers in a horse. These stripes form what is termed the 'chain' having somewhat the appearance of a chain or collar hanging round the neck." "Among thorough-bred fancy rabbits, perhaps not one in a hundred will have all these markings clearly and exactly displayed on the coat; but the more nearly the figures on the coat of a rabbit approach to the pattern described, the greater will be its value, so far, at least, as relates to colour. The beauty and consequent worth of a fancy rabbit, however, depends a good deal on its shape, or what is styled its carriage. A rabbit is said to have a good carriage when its back is finely arched, rising full two inches above the top of its head, which must be held so low as for the muzzle and the points of the ears to reach almost to the ground." STEWED RABBIT, Larded. 985. INGREDIENTS.--1 rabbit, a few strips of bacon, rather more than 1 pint of good broth or stock, a bunch of savoury herbs, salt and pepper to taste, thickening of butter and flour, 1 glass of sherry. _Mode_.--Well wash the rabbit, cut it into quarters, lard them with Blips of bacon, and fry them; then put them into a stewpan with the broth, herbs, and a seasoning of pepper and salt; simmer gently until the rabbit is tender, then strain the gravy, thicken it with butter and flour, add the sherry, give one boil, pour it over the rabbit, and serve. Garnish with slices of cut lemon. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to February. [Illustration: THE HARE-RABBIT.] THE HARE-RABBIT.--There has been lately introduced to French tables an animal called the "Hare-rabbit," partaking of the nature, characteristics, and qualifications of both the hare and the rabbit. It is highly spoken of, both as regards flesh and flavour; and it is said to be the only hybrid which is able to perpetuate its race. We hope that some enterprising individual will soon secure for English, tables what would seem to be a really valuable addition to our other game and poultry dishes; although it will be rather difficult to exactly assign its proper position, as within or without the meaning of "game," as by law established. Only a few specimens have been seen in England at present, but there is no reason to doubt that our rabbit-fanciers will prove equal to the occasion, and cope successfully with our neighbours across the Channel in introducing a new animal serviceable in the kitchen. [Illustration: ANGORA RABBIT.] THE ANGORA RABBIT.--This is one of the handsomest of all rabbits. It takes its name from being an inhabitant of Angora, a city and district of Asia Minor. Like the well-known Angora goat and cat, both of which are valuable on account of the fineness of their wool and fur, this rabbit is prized for its long, waved, silky fur, which, as an article of commerce is highly esteemed. We are not aware whether it is eaten by the inhabitants, and but few specimens have been introduced into England, where, doubtless, the beauty of its coat would materially suffer from the more humid and less genial character of the climate. To the rabbits of the ancient and mountainous district of Angora the words of the wise man would seem most to apply, "The conies are but feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the rocks." [Illustration: HIMALAYA RABBITS.] THE HIMALAYA RABBIT.--Amidst the mighty Himalaya mountains, whose peaks are the highest on the globe, the pretty rabbit here portrayed is found; and his colour seems to be like the snow, which, above the altitude of from 13,000 to 16,000 feet, perpetually crowns the summits of these monarchs of the world. It is, at present, a very rare animal in England, but will, doubtless, be more extensively known in the course of a few years. From the earth-tunnelling powers of this little animal, Martial declares that mankind learned the art of fortification, mining, and covered roads. BOILED TURKEY. 986. INGREDIENTS.--Turkey; forcemeat No. 417. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Hen turkeys are preferable for boiling, on account of their whiteness and tenderness, and one of moderate size should be selected, as a large one is not suitable for this mode of cooking. They should not be dressed until they have been killed 3 or 4 days, as they will neither look white, nor will they be tender. Pluck the bird, carefully draw, and singe it with a piece of white paper, wash it inside and out, and wipe it thoroughly dry with a cloth. Cut off the head and neck, draw the strings or sinews of the thighs, and cut off the legs at the first joint; draw the legs into the body, fill the breast with forcemeat made by recipe No. 417; run a skewer through the wing and the middle joint of the leg, quite into the leg and wing on the opposite side; break the breastbone, and make the bird look as round and as compact as possible. [Illustration: BOILED TURKEY.] _Mode_.--Put the turkey into sufficient _hot_ water to cover it; let it come to a boil, then carefully remove all the scum: if this is attended to, there is no occasion to boil the bird in a floured cloth; but it should be well covered with the water. Let it simmer very gently for about 1-1/2 hour to 1-3/4 hour, according to the size, and serve with either white, celery, oyster, or mushroom sauce, or parsley-and-butter, a little of which should be poured over the turkey. Boiled ham, bacon, tongue, or pickled pork, should always accompany this dish; and when oyster sauce is served, the turkey should be stuffed with oyster forcemeat. _Time_.--A small turkey, 1-1/2 hour; a large one, 1-3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 5s. 6d. to 7s. 6d. each, but more expensive at Christmas, on account of the great demand. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from December to February. THE TURKEY.--The turkey, for which fine bird we are indebted to America, is certainly one of the most glorious presents made by the New World to the Old. Some, indeed, assert that this bird was known to the ancients, and that it was served at the wedding-feast of Charlemagne. This opinion, however, has been controverted by first-rate authorities, who declare that the French name of the bird, _dindon_, proves its origin; that the form of the bird is altogether foreign, and that it is found in America alone in a wild state. There is but little doubt, from the information which has been gained at considerable trouble, that it appeared, generally, in Europe about the end of the 17th century; that it was first imported into France by Jesuits, who had been sent out missionaries to the West; and that from France it spread over Europe. To this day, in many localities in France, a turkey is called a Jesuit. On the farms of N. America, where turkeys are very common, they are raised either from eggs which have been found, or from young ones caught in the woods: they thus preserve almost entirely their original plumage. The turkey only became gradually acclimated, both on the continent and in England: in the middle of the 18th century, scarcely 10 out of 20 young turkeys lived; now, generally speaking, 15 out of the same number arrive at maturity. CROQUETTES OF TURKEY (Cold Meat Cookery). 987. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold turkey; to every 1/2 lb. of meat allow 2 oz. of ham or bacon, 2 shalots, 1 oz. of butter, 1 tablespoonful of flour, the yolks of 2 eggs, egg and bread crumbs. _Mode_.--The smaller pieces, that will not do for a fricassée or hash, answer very well for this dish. Mince the meat finely with ham or bacon in the above proportion; make a gravy of the bones and trimmings, well seasoning it; mince the shalots, put them into a stewpan with the butter, add the flour; mix well, then put in the mince, and about 1/2 pint of the gravy made from the bones. (The proportion of the butter must be increased or diminished according to the quantity of mince.) When just boiled, add the yolks of 2 eggs; put the mixture out to cool, and then shape it in a wineglass. Cover the croquettes with egg and bread crumbs, and fry them a delicate brown. Put small pieces of parsley-stems for stalks, and serve with, rolled bacon cut very thin. _Time_.--8 minutes to fry the croquettes. _Seasonable_ from December to February. THE WILD TURKEY.--In its wild state, the turkey is gregarious, going together in extensive flocks, numbering as many as five hundred. These frequent the great swamps of America, where they roost; but, at sunrise, leave these situations to repair to the dry woods, in search of berries and acorns. They perch on the boughs of trees, and, by rising from branch to branch, attain the height they desire. They usually mount to the highest tops, apparently from an instinctive conception that the loftier they are the further they are out of danger. They fly awkwardly, but run with great swiftness, and, about the month of March become so fat as not to be able to take a flight beyond three or four hundred yards, and are then, also, easily run down by a horseman. Now, however, it rarely happens that wild turkeys are seen in the inhabited parts of America. It is only in the distant and more unfrequented parts that they are found in great numbers. FRICASSEED TURKEY (Cold Meat Cookery). 988. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast or boiled turkey; a strip of lemon-peel, a bunch of savoury herbs, 1 onion, pepper and salt to taste, 1 pint of water, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, the yolk of an egg. _Mode_.--Cut some nice slices from the remains of a cold turkey, and put the bones and trimmings into a stewpan, with the lemon-peel, herbs, onion, pepper, salt, add the water; stew for an hour, strain the gravy, and lay in the pieces of turkey. When warm through, add the cream and the yolk of an egg; stir it well round, and, when getting thick, take out the pieces, lay them on a hot dish, and pour the sauce over. Garnish the fricassée with sippets of toasted bread. Celery or cucumbers, cut into small pieces, may be put into the sauce; if the former, it must be boiled first. _Time_.--1 hour to make the gravy. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold turkey, 4d. _Seasonable_ from December to February. THE TURKEY.--This is one of the gallinaceous birds, the principal genera of which are Pheasants, Turkeys, Peacocks, Bustards, Pintatoes, and Grouse. They live mostly on the ground, scraping the earth with their feet, and feeding on seeds and grains, which, previous to digestion, are macerated in their crops. They usually associate in families, consisting of one male and several females. Turkeys are particularly fond of the seeds of nettles, whilst the seeds of the foxglove will poison them. The common turkey is a native of North America, and, in the reign of Henry VIII., was introduced into England. According to Tusser's "Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry," it began about the year 1585 to form a dish at our rural Christmas feasts:-- "Beefe, mutton, and pork, shred pies of the best, Pig, veal, goose, and capon, and turkey well drest; Cheese, apples, and nuts, jolly carols to hear, As then in the country is counted good cheer." The turkey is one of the most difficult birds to rear, and its flesh is much esteemed. THE DISPOSITION OF THE TURKEY.--Among themselves, turkeys are extremely furious, whilst amongst other animals they are usually both weak and cowardly. The domestic cock frequently makes them keep at a distance, whilst they will rarely attack him but in a united body, when the cock is rather crushed by their weight than defeated by their prowess. The disposition of the female is in general much more gentle than that of the male. When leading forth her young to collect their food, though so large and apparently so powerful a bird, she gives them very slight protection from the attacks of any rapacious animal which may appear against them. She rather warns them of their danger than offers to defend them; yet she is extremely affectionate to her young. HASHED TURKEY. 989. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast turkey, 1 onion, pepper and salt to taste, rather more than 1 pint of water, 1 carrot, 1 turnip, 1 blade of mace, a bunch of savoury herbs, 1 tablespoonful of mushroom ketchup, 1 tablespoonful of port wine, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Cut the turkey into neat joints; the best pieces reserve for the hash, the inferior joints and trimmings put into a stewpan with an onion cut in slices, pepper and salt, a carrot, turnip, mace, herbs, and water in the above proportion; simmer these for an hour, then strain the gravy, thicken it with butter and flour, flavour with ketchup and port wine, and lay in the pieces of turkey to warm through; if there is any stuffing left, put that in also, as it so much improves the flavour of the gravy. When it boils, serve, and garnish the dish with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--1 hour to make the gravy. _Seasonable_ from December to February. HUNTING TURKEYS.--Formerly, in Canada, hunting turkeys was one of the principal diversions of the natives of that country. When they discovered the retreat of the birds, which was generally near a field of nettles, or where grain of any kind was plentiful, they would send a well-trained dog into the midst of the flock. The turkeys no sooner perceived their enemy than they would run off at full speed, and with such swiftness that they would leave the dog far behind. He, however, would follow in their wake, and as they could not, for a great length of time, continue at their speed, they were at last forced to seek shelter in the trees. There they would sit, spent with fatigue, till the hunters would approach, and, with long poles, knock them down one after the other. ROAST TURKEY. 990. INGREDIENTS.--Turkey; forcemeat No. 417. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Choose cock turkeys by their short spurs and black legs, in which case they are young; if the spurs are long, and the legs pale and rough, they are old. If the bird has been long killed, the eyes will appear sunk and the feet very dry; but, if fresh, the contrary will be the case. Middling-sized fleshy turkeys are by many persons considered superior to those of an immense growth, as they are, generally speaking, much more tender. They should never be dressed the same day they are killed; but, in cold weather, should hang at least 8 days; if the weather is mild, 4 or 5 days will be found sufficient. Carefully pluck the bird, singe it with white paper, and wipe it thoroughly with a cloth; draw it, preserve the liver and gizzard, and be particular not to break the gall-bag, as no washing will remove the bitter taste it imparts where it once touches. Wash it _inside_ well, and wipe it thoroughly dry with a cloth; the _outside_ merely requires nicely wiping, as we have just stated. Cut off the neck close to the back, but leave enough of the crop-skin to turn over; break the leg-bone close below the knee, draw out the strings from the thighs, and flatten the breastbone to make it look plump. Have ready a forcemeat made by recipe No. 417; fill the breast with this, and, if a trussing-needle is used, sew the neck over to the back; if a needle is not at hand, a skewer will answer the purpose. Run a skewer through the pinion and thigh into the body to the pinion and thigh on the other side, and press the legs as much as possible between the breast and the side bones, and put the liver under one pinion and the gizzard under the other. Pass a string across the back of the bird, catch it over the points of the skewer, tie it in the centre of the back, and be particular that the turkey is very firmly trussed. This may be more easily accomplished with a needle and twine than with skewers. [Illustration: ROAST TURKEY.] _Mode_.--Fasten a sheet of buttered paper on to the breast of the bird, put it down to a bright fire, at some little distance _at first_ (afterwards draw it nearer), and keep it well basted the whole of the time it is cooking. About 1/4 hour before serving, remove the paper, dredge the turkey lightly with flour, and put a piece of butter into the basting-ladle; as the butter melts, baste the bird with it. When of a nice brown and well frothed, serve with a tureen of good brown gravy and one of bread sauce. Fried sausages are a favourite addition to roast turkey; they make a pretty garnish, besides adding very much to the flavour. When these are not at hand, a few forcemeat balls should be placed round the dish as a garnish. Turkey may also be stuffed with sausage-meat, and a chestnut forcemeat with the same sauce is, by many persons, much esteemed as an accompaniment to this favourite dish.--See coloured plate, A1. _Time_.--Small turkey, 1-1/2 hour; moderate-sized one, about 10 lbs., 2 hours; large turkey, 2-1/2 hours, or longer. _Average cost_, from 10s. to 12s., but expensive at Christmas, on account of the great demand. _Sufficient_.--A moderate-sized turkey for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from December to February. ENGLISH TURKEYS.--These are reared in great numbers in Suffolk, Norfolk, and several other counties, whence they were wont to be driven to the London market in flocks of several hundreds; the improvements in our modes of travelling now, however, enable them to be brought by railway. Their drivers used to manage them with great facility, by means of a bit of red rag tied to the end of a long stick, which, from the antipathy these birds have to that colour, effectually answered the purpose of a scourge. There are three varieties of the turkey in this country,--the black, the white, and the speckled, or copper-coloured. The black approaches nearest to the original stock, and is esteemed the best. Its flesh is white and tender, delicate, nourishing, and of excellent flavour; it greatly deteriorates with age, however, and is then good for little but stewing. ROAST TURKEY POULTS. 991. INGREDIENTS.--Turkey poult; butter. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Choose a plump bird, and truss it in the following manner:--After it has been carefully plucked, drawn, and singed, skin the neck, and fasten the head under the wing; turn the legs at the first joint, and bring the feet close to the thighs, as a woodcock should be trussed, _and do not stuff it_. _Mode_.--Put it down to a bright fire, keep it well basted, and at first place a piece of paper on the breast to prevent its taking too much colour. About 10 minutes before serving, dredge it lightly with flour, and baste well; when nicely frothed, send it to table immediately, with a little gravy in the dish, and some in a tureen. If at hand, a few water-cresses may be placed round the turkey as a garnish, or it may be larded. _Time_.--About 1 hour. _Average cost_, 7s. to 8s. each. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_.--In full season from June to October. THE FUTURE OF THE TURKEY.--Human ingenuity subjects almost every material to the purposes of ornament or use and the feathers of turkeys have been found adapted for more ends than one. The American Indians convert then into an elegant clothing, and, by twisting the inner ribs into a strong double string, with hemp or the inner bark of the mulberry tree, work it like matting. This fabric has a very rich and glossy appearance and is as fine as silk shag. The natives of Louisiana used to make fans of the tail; and four of that appendage joined together was formerly constructed into a parasol by the French. TO BONE A TURKEY OR FOWL WITHOUT OPENING IT. (_Miss Acton's Recipe_.) 992. After the fowl has been drawn and singed, wipe it inside and out with a clean cloth, but do not wash it. Take off the head, cut through the skin all round the first joint of the legs, and pull them from the fowl, to draw out the large tendons. Raise the flesh first from the lower part of the backbone, and a little also from the end of the breastbone, if necessary; work the knife gradually to the socket of the thigh; with the point of the knife detach the joint from it, take the end of the bone firmly in the fingers, and cut the flesh clean from it down to the next joint, round which pass the point of the knife carefully, and when the skin is loosened from it in every part, cut round the next bone, keeping; the edge of the knife close to it, until the whole of the leg is done. Remove the bones of the other leg in the same manner; then detach the flesh from the back--and breast-bone sufficiently to enable you to reach the upper joints of the wings; proceed with these as with the legs, but be especially careful not to pierce the skin of the second joint: it is usual to leave the pinions unboned, in order to give more easily its natural form to the fowl when it is dressed. The merrythought and neck-bones may now easily be cut away, the back-and side-bones taken out without being divided, and the breastbone separated carefully from the flesh (which, as the work progresses, must be turned back from the bones upon the fowl, until it is completely inside out). After the one remaining bone is removed, draw the wings and legs back to their proper form, and turn the fowl right side outwards. 993. A turkey is boned exactly in the same manner; but as it requires a very large proportion of forcemeat to fill it entirely, the logs and wings are sometimes drawn into the body, to diminish the expense of this. If very securely trussed, and sewn, the bird may be either boiled, or stewed in rich gravy, as well as roasted, after being boned and forced; but it must be most gently cooled, or it may burst. ANOTHER MODE OF BONING A TURKEY OR FOWL. (_Miss Acton's Recipe_.) 994. Cut through the skin down the centre of the back, and raise the flesh carefully on either side with the point of a sharp knife, until the sockets of the wings and thighs are reached. Till a little practice has been gained, it will perhaps be bettor to bone these joints before proceeding further; but after they are once detached from it, the whole of the body may easily be separated from the flesh and taken out entire: only the neck-bones and merrythought will then remain to be removed. The bird thus prepared may either be restored to its original form, by filling the legs and wings with forcemeat, and the body with the livers of two or three fowls, mixed with alternate layers of parboiled tongue freed from the rind, fine sausage-meat, or veal forcemeat, or thin slices of the nicest bacon, or aught else of good flavour, which will give a marbled appearance to the fowl when it is carved; and then be sewn up and trussed as usual; or the legs and wings may be drawn inside the body, and the bird being first flattened on a table, may be covered with sausage-meat, and the various other ingredients we have named, so placed that it shall be of equal thickness in every part; then tightly rolled, bound firmly together with a fillet of broad tape, wrapped in a thin pudding-cloth, closely tied at both ends, and dressed as follows:--Put it into a braising-pan, stewpan, or thick iron saucepan, bright in the inside, and fitted as nearly as may be to its size; add all the chicken-bones, a bunch of sweet herbs, two carrots, two bay-leaves, a large blade of mace, twenty-four white peppercorns, and any trimmings or bones of undressed veal which may be at hand; cover the whole with good veal broth, add salt, if needed, and stew it very softly, from an hour and a quarter to an hour and a half; let it cool in the liquor in which it was stewed; and after it is lifted out, boil down the gravy to a jelly and strain it; let it become cold, clear off the fat, and serve it cut into large dice or roughed, and laid round the fowl, which is to be served cold. If restored to its form, instead of being rolled, it must be stewed gently for an hour, and may then be sent to table hot, covered with mushroom, or any other good sauce that may be preferred; or it may be left until the following day, and served garnished with the jelly, which should be firm, and very clear and well-flavoured: the liquor in which a calf's foot has been boiled down, added to the broth, will give it the necessary degree of consistence. TO BONE FOWLS FOR FRICASSEES, CURRIES, & PIES. 995. First carve them entirely into joints, then remove the bones, beginning with the legs and wings, at the head of the largest bone; hold this with the fingers, and work the knife as directed in the recipe above. The remainder of the birds is too easily done to require any instructions. TO DRESS WHEATEARS. 996. INGREDIENTS.--Wheatears; fresh butter. _Mode_.--After the birds are picked, gutted, and cleaned, truss them like larks, put them down to a quick fire, and baste them well with fresh butter. When done, which will be in about 20 minutes, dish them on fried bread crumbs, and garnish the dish with slices of lemon. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Seasonable_ from July to October. THE WHEATEAR.--The wheatear is an annual visitor of England: it arrives about the middle of March and leaves in September. The females come about a fortnight before the males, and continue to arrive till the middle of May. They are in season from July to October, and are taken in large numbers on the South Downs, in the neighbourhood of Eastbourne, Brighton, and other parts of Sussex. They are taken by means of snares and nets, and numbers of them are eaten on the spot by the inhabitants. The larger ones are sent to London and potted, where they are by many as much esteemed as the ortolans of the continent. Mr. Pennant assigns as the reason of their abounding on the downs about Eastbourne, the existence of a species of fly which forms their favourite food, and which feeds on the wild thyme on the adjacent hills. [Illustration: THE GUINEA-PIG.] 997. THE GUINEA-PIG.--This common hutch-companion of the rabbit, although originally a native of Brazil, propagates freely in England and other European countries. Were it not that they suffer cruelly from cats, and numerous other enemies, and that it is the habit of the males to devour their own offspring, their numbers would soon become overwhelming. Rats, however, it is said, carefully avoid them; and for this reason they are frequently bred by rabbit-fanciers, by way of protection for their young stock against those troublesome vermin. The lower tier of a rabbit-hutch is esteemed excellent quarters by the guinea-pig: here, as he runs loose, he will devour the waste food of his more admired companion. Home naturalists assert that the guinea-pig will breed at two months old, the litter varying from four to twelve at a time. It is varied in colour,--white, fawn, and black, and a mixture of the three colours, forming a tortoiseshell, which is the more generally admired hue. Occasionally, the white ones have red eyes, like those of the ferret and the white rabbit. Their flesh, although eatable, is decidedly unfit for food; they have been tasted, however, we presume by some enthusiast eager to advance the cause of science, or by some eccentric epicure in search of a new pleasure for his palate. Unless it has been that they deter rats from intruding within the rabbit-hutch, they are as useless as they are harmless. The usual ornament of an animal's hind quarters is denied them; and were it not for this fact, and also for their difference in colour, the Shaksperean locution, "a rat without a tail," would designate them very properly. [Illustration: THE CYGNET.] 998. THE CYGNET.--The Cygnet, or the young Swan, was formerly much esteemed; but it has "fallen from its high estate," and is now rarely seen upon the table. We are not sure that it is not still fattened in Norwich for the corporation of that place. Persons who have property on the river there, take the young birds, and send them to some one who is employed by the corporation, to be fed; and for this trouble he is paid, or was wont to be paid, about half a guinea a bird. It is as the future bird of elegance and grace that the young swan is mostly admired; when it has become old enough to grace the waters, then it is that all admire her, when she with "Archèd neck, Between her white wings mantling, proudly rows Her state with oary feet." POULTRY CARVING. ROAST DUCK. [Illustration: ROAST DUCK.] 999. No dishes require so much knowledge and skill in their carving as do game and poultry; for it is necessary to be well acquainted with the anatomy of the bird and animal in order to place the knife at exactly the proper point. A tough fowl and an old goose are sad triers of a carver's powers and temper, and, indeed, sometimes of the good humour of those in the neighbourhood of the carver; for a sudden tilt of the dish may eventuate in the placing a quantity of the gravy in the lap of the right or left-hand supporter of the host. We will endeavour to assist those who are unacquainted with the "gentle art of carving," and also those who are but slightly acquainted with it, by simply describing the rules to follow, and referring to the distinctly-marked Illustrations of each dish, which will further help to bring light to the minds of the uninitiated. If the bird be a young duckling, it may be carved like a fowl, viz., by first taking off the leg and the wing on either side, as described at No. 1000; but in cases where the duckling is very small, it will be as well not to separate the leg from the wing, as they will not then form too large a portion for a single serving. After the legs and wings are disposed of, the remainder of the duck will be also carved in the same manner as a fowl; and not much difficulty will be experienced, as ducklings are tender, and the joints are easily broken by a little gentle forcing, or penetrated by the knife. In cases where the duck is a large bird, the better plan to pursue is then to carve it like a goose, that is, by cutting pieces from the breast in the direction indicated by the lines marked from 1 to 2, commencing to carve the slices close to the wing, and then proceeding upwards from that to the breastbone. If more should be wanted than can be obtained from both sides of the breast, then the legs and wings must be attacked, in the same way as is described in connection with carving a fowl. It may be here remarked, that as the legs of a duck are placed far more backward than those of a fowl, their position causing the waddling motion of the bird, the thigh-bones will be found considerably nearer towards the backbone than in a chicken: this is the only difference worth mentioning. The carver should ask each guest if a portion of stuffing would be agreeable; and in order to get at this, a cut should be made below the breast, as shown by the line from 3 to 4, at the part called the "apron," and the spoon inserted. (As described in the recipe, it is an excellent plan, when a couple of ducks are served, to have one with, and the other without stuffing.) As to the prime parts of a duck, it has been said that "the wing of a flier and the leg of a swimmer" are severally the best portions. Some persons are fond of the feet of the duck; and, in trussing, these should never be taken off. The leg, wing, and neckbone are here shown; so that it will be easy to see the shape they should be when cut off. [Illustration: LEG, WING, AND NECKBONE OF DUCK.] BOILED FOWL. [Illustration: BOILED FOWL.] [Illustration: LEG, WING, AND NECKBONE OF FOWL.] 1000. This will not be found a very difficult member of the poultry family to carve, unless, as may happen, a very old farmyard occupant, useless for egg-laying purposes, has, by some unlucky mischance, been introduced info the kitchen as a "fine young chicken." Skill, however, and the application of a small amount of strength, combined with a fine keeping of the temper, will even get over that difficulty. Fixing the fork firmly in the breast, let the knife be sharply passed along the line shown from 1 to 2; then cut downwards from that line to fig. 3; and the wing, it will be found, can be easily withdrawn. The shape of the wing should be like the accompanying engraving. Let the fork be placed inside the leg, which should be gently forced away from the body of the fowl; and the joint, being thus discovered, the carver can readily cut through it, and the leg can be served. When the leg is displaced, it should be of the same shape as that shown in the annexed woodcut. The legs and wings on either side having been taken off, the carver should draw his knife through the flesh in the direction of the line 4 to 5: by this means the knife can be slipped underneath the merrythought, which, being lifted up and pressed backward, will immediately come off. The collar--or neck-bones are the next to consider: these lie on each side of the merrythought, close under the upper part of the wings; and, in order to free these from the fowl, they must also be raised by the knife at their broad end, and turned from the body towards the breastbone, until the shorter piece of the bone, as shown in the cut, breaks off. There will now be left only the breast, with the ribs. The breast can be, without difficulty, disengaged from the ribs by cutting through the latter, which will offer little impediment. The side-bones are now to be taken off; and to do this, the lower end of the back should be turned from the carver, who should press the point of the knife through the top of the backbone, near the centre, bringing it down towards the end of the back completely through the bone. If the knife is now turned in the opposite direction, the joint will be easily separated from the vertebra. The backbone being now uppermost, the fork should be pressed firmly down on it, whilst at the same time the knife should be employed in raising up the lower small end of the fowl towards the fork, and thus the back will be dislocated about its middle. The wings, breast, and merrythought are esteemed the prime parts of a fowl, and are usually served to the ladies of the company, to whom legs, except as a matter of paramount necessity, should not be given. Byron gave it as one reason why he did not like dining with ladies, that they always had the wings of the fowls, which he himself preferred. We heard a gentleman who, when he might have had a wing, declare his partiality for a leg, saying that he had been obliged to eat legs for so long a time, that he had at last come to like them better than the other more prized parts. If the fowl is, capon-like, very large, slices maybe carved from its breast in the same manner as from a turkey's. ROAST FOWL. [Illustration: ROAST FOWL.] 1001. Generally speaking, it is not necessary so completely to cut up a fowl as we have described in the preceding paragraphs, unless, indeed, a large family party is assembled, and there are a number of "little mouths" to be filled, or some other such circumstances prevail. A roast fowl is carved in the same manner as a boiled fowl, No. 1000; viz., by cutting along the line from. 1 to 2, and then round the leg between it and the wing. The markings and detached pieces, as shown in the engravings under the heading of "Boiled Fowl," supersede the necessity of our lengthily again describing the operation. It may be added, that the liver, being considered a delicacy, should be divided, and one half served with each wing. In the case of a fowl being shifted, it will be proper to give each guest a portion, unless it be not agreeable to some one of the party. ROAST GOOSE. [Illustration: ROAST GOOSE.] [Illustration: LEG, WING, AND NECK-BONE OF GOOSE.] 1002. It would not be fair to say that this dish bodes a great deal of happiness to an inexperienced carver, especially if there is a large party to serve, and the slices off the breast should not suffice to satisfy the desires and cravings of many wholesome appetites, produced, may be, by the various sports in vogue at Michaelmas and Christmas. The beginning of the task, however, is not in any way difficult. Evenly-cut slices, not too thick or too thin, should be carved from the breast in the direction of the line from 2 to 3; after the first slice has been cut, a hole should be made with the knife in the part called the apron, passing it round the line, as indicated by the figures 1, 1, 1: here the stuffing is located, and some of this should be served on each plate, unless it is discovered that it is not agreeable to the taste of some one guest. If the carver manages cleverly, he will be able to cut a very large number of fine slices off the breast, and the more so if he commences close down by the wing, and carves upwards towards the ridge of the breastbone. As many slices as can be taken from the breast being carved, the wings should be cut off; and the same process as described in carving boiled fowl, is made use of in this instance, only more dexterity and greater force will most probably be required: the shape of the leg, when disengaged from the body of the goose, should be like that shown in the accompanying engraving. It will be necessary, perhaps, in taking off the leg, to turn the goose on its side, and then, pressing down the small end of the leg, the knife should be passed under it from the top quite down to the joint; the leg being now turned back by the fork, the knife must cut through the joint, loosening the thigh-bone from its socket. The merrythought, which in a goose is not so large as might be expected, is disengaged in the same way as that of a fowl--by passing the knife under it, and pressing it backwards towards the neck. The neck-bones, of which we give a cut, are freed by the same process as are those of a fowl; and the same may be said of all the other parts of this bird. The breast of a goose is the part most esteemed; all parts, however, are good, and full of juicy flavour. PIGEON. [Illustration: PIGEON.] 1003. A very straightforward plan is adopted in carving a pigeon: the knife is carried sharply in the direction of the line as shown from 1 to 2, entirely through the bird, cutting it into two precisely equal and similar parts. If it is necessary to make three pieces of it, a small wing should be cut off with the leg on either side, thus serving two guests; and, by this means, there will be sufficient meat left on the breast to send to the third guest. RABBITS. [Illustration: BOILED RABBIT.] 1004. In carving a boiled rabbit, let the knife be drawn on each side of the backbone, the whole length of the rabbit, as shown by the dotted line 3 to 4: thus the rabbit will be in three parts. Now let the back be divided into two equal parts in the direction of the line from 1 to 2; then let the leg be taken off, as shown by the line 5 to 6, and the shoulder, as shown by the line 7 to 8. This, in our opinion, is the best plan to carve a rabbit, although there are other modes which are preferred by some. [Illustration: ROAST RABBIT.] A roast rabbit is rather differently trussed from one that is meant to be boiled; but the carving is nearly similar, as will be seen by the cut. The back should be divided into as many pieces as it will give, and the legs and shoulders can then be disengaged in the same manner as those of the boiled animal. ROAST TURKEY. [Illustration: ROAST TURKEY.] 1005. A noble dish is a turkey, roast or boiled. A Christmas dinner, with the middle classes of this empire, would scarcely be a Christmas dinner without its turkey; and we can hardly imagine an object of greater envy than is presented by a respected portly pater-familias carving, at the season devoted to good cheer and genial charity, his own fat turkey, and carving it well. The only art consists, as in the carving of a goose, in getting from the breast as many fine slices as possible; and all must have remarked the very great difference in the large number of people whom a good carver will find slices for, and the comparatively few that a bad carver will succeed in serving. As we have stated in both the carving of a duck and goose, the carver should commence cutting slices close to the wing from, 2 to 3, and then proceed upwards towards the ridge of the breastbone: this is not the usual plan, but, in practice, will be found the best. The breast is the only part which is looked on as fine in a turkey, the legs being very seldom cut off and eaten at table: they are usually removed to the kitchen, where they are taken off, as here marked, to appear only in a form which seems to have a special attraction at a bachelor's supper-table,--we mean devilled: served in this way, they are especially liked and relished. A boiled turkey is carved in the same manner as when roasted. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXII. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON GAME. 1006. THE COMMON LAW OF ENGLAND has a maxim, that goods, in which no person can claim any property, belong, by his or her prerogative, to the king or queen. Accordingly, those animals, those _ferae naturae_, which come under the denomination of game, are, in our laws, styled his or her majesty's, and may therefore, as a matter of course, be granted by the sovereign to another; in consequence of which another may prescribe to possess the same within a certain precinct or lordship. From this circumstance arose the right of lords of manors or others to the game within their respective liberties; and to protect these species of animals, the game laws were originated, and still remain in force. There are innumerable acts of parliament inflicting penalties on persons who may illegally kill game, and some of them are very severe; but they cannot be said to answer their end, nor can it be expected that they ever will, whilst there are so many persons of great wealth who have not otherwise the means of procuring game, except by purchase, and who will have it. These must necessarily encourage poaching, which, to a very large extent, must continue to render all game laws nugatory as to their intended effects upon the rustic population. 1007. THE OBJECT OF THESE LAWS, however, is not wholly confined to the restraining of the illegal sportsman. Even qualified or privileged persons must not kill game at all seasons. During the day, the hours allowed for sporting are from one hour before sunrise till one hour after sunset; whilst the time of killing certain species is also restricted to certain seasons. For example, the season for bustard-shooting is from December 1 to March 1; for grouse, or red grouse, from August 12 to December 10; heath-fowl, or black-game, from August 20 to December 20; partridges from September 1 to February 12; pheasants from October 1 to February 1; widgeons, wild ducks, wild geese, wild fowls, at any time but in June, July, August, and September. Hares may be killed at any time of the year, under certain restrictions defined by an act of parliament of the 10th of George III. 1008. THE EXERCISE OR DIVERSION OF PURSUING FOUR-FOOTED BEASTS OF GAME is called hunting, which, to this day, is followed in the field and the forest, with gun and greyhound. Birds, on the contrary, are not hunted, but shot in the air, or taken with nets and other devices, which is called fowling; or they are pursued and taken by birds of prey, which is called hawking, a species of sport now fallen almost entirely into desuetude in England, although, in some parts, showing signs of being revived. 1009. IN PURSUING FOUR-FOOTED BEASTS, such as deer, boars, and hares, properly termed hunting, mankind were, from the earliest ages, engaged. It was the rudest and the most obvious manner of acquiring human support before the agricultural arts had in any degree advanced. It is an employment, however, requiring both art and contrivance, as well as a certain fearlessness of character, combined with the power of considerable physical endurance. Without these, success could not be very great; but, at best, the occupation is usually accompanied with rude and turbulent habits; and, when combined with these, it constitutes what is termed the savage state of man. As culture advances, and as the soil proportionably becomes devoted to the plough or to the sustenance of the tamer or more domesticated animals, the range of the huntsman is proportionably limited; so that when a country has attained to a high state of cultivation, hunting becomes little else than an amusement of the opulent. In the case of fur-bearing animals, however, it is somewhat different; for these continue to supply the wants of civilization with one of its most valuable materials of commerce. 1010. THE THEMES WHICH FORM THE MINSTRELSY OF THE EARLIEST AGES, either relate to the spoils of the chase or the dangers of the battle-field. Even the sacred writings introduce us to Nimrod, the first mighty hunter before the Lord, and tell us that Ishmael, in the solitudes of Arabia, became a skilful bow-man; and that David, when yet young, was not afraid to join in combat with the lion or the bear. The Greek mythology teems with hunting exploits. Hercules overthrows the Nemaean lion, the Erymanthean boar, and the hydra of Lerna; Diana descends to the earth, and pursues the stag; whilst Aesculapius, Nestor, Theseus, Ulysses, and Achilles are all followers of the chase. Aristotle, sage as he was, advises young men to apply themselves early to it; and Plato finds in it something divine. Horace exalts it as a preparative exercise for the path of glory, and several of the heroes of Homer are its ardent votaries. The Romans followed the hunting customs of the Greeks, and the ancient Britons were hunters before Julius Caesar invaded their shores. 1011. ALTHOUGH THE ANCIENT BRITONS FOLLOWED HUNTING, however, they did not confine themselves solely to its pursuit. They bred cattle and tilled the ground, and, to some extent, indicated the rudimentary state of a pastoral and agricultural life; but, in every social change, the sports of the field maintained their place. After the expulsion of the Danes, and during the brief restoration of the Saxon monarchy, these were still followed: even Edward the Confessor, who would join in no other secular amusements, took the greatest delight, says William of Malmesbury, "to follow a pack of swift hounds in pursuit of game, and to cheer them with his voice." 1012. NOR WAS EDWARD the only English sovereign who delighted in the pleasures of the chase. William the Norman, and his two sons who succeeded him, were passionately fond of the sport, and greatly circumscribed the liberties of their subjects in reference to the killing of game. The privilege of hunting in the royal forests was confined to the king and his favourites; and in order that these umbrageous retreats might be made more extensive, whole villages were depopulated, places of worship levelled with the ground, and every means adopted that might give a sufficient amplitude of space, in accordance with the royal pleasure, for the beasts of the chase. King John was likewise especially attached to the sports of the field; whilst Edward III. was so enamoured of the exercise, that even during his absence at the wars in France, he took with him sixty couples of stag-hounds and as many hare-hounds, and every day amused himself either with hunting or hawking. Great in wisdom as the Scotch Solomon, James I., conceited himself to be, he was much addicted to the amusements of hunting, hawking, and shooting. Yea, it is oven asserted that his precious time was divided between hunting, the bottle, and his standish: to the first he gave his fair weather, to the second his dull, and to the third his cloudy. From his days down to the present, the sports of the field have continued to hold their high reputation, not only for the promotion of health, but for helping to form that manliness of character which enters so largely into the composition of the sons of the British soil. That it largely helps to do this there can be no doubt. The late duke of Grafton, when hunting, was, on one occasion, thrown into a ditch. A young curate, engaged in the same chase, cried out, "Lie still, my lord!" leapt over him, and pursued his sport. Such an apparent want of feeling might be expected to have been resented by the duke; but not so. On his being helped up by his attendant, he said, "That man shall have the first good living that falls to my disposal: had he stopped to have given me his sympathy, I never would have given him anything." Such was the manly sentiment of the duke, who delighted in the exemplification of a spirit similarly ardent as his own in the sport, and above the baseness of an assumed sorrow. 1013. THAT HUNTING HAS IN MANY INSTANCES BEEN CARRIED TO AN EXCESS is well known, and the match given by the Prince Esterhazy, regent of Hungary, on the signing of the treaty of peace with France, is not the least extraordinary upon record. On that occasion, there were killed 160 deer, 100 wild boars, 300 hares, and 80 foxes: this was the achievement of one day. Enormous, however, as this slaughter may appear, it is greatly inferior to that made by the contemporary king of Naples on a hunting expedition. That sovereign had a larger extent of ground at his command, and a longer period for the exercise of his talents; consequently, his sport, if it can so be called, was proportionably greater. It was pursued during his journey to Vienna, in Austria, Bohemia, and Moravia; when he killed 5 bears, 1,820 boars, 1,950 deer, 1,145 does, 1,625 roebucks, 11,121 rabbits, 13 wolves, 17 badgers, 16,354 hares, and 354 foxes. In birds, during the same expedition, he killed 15,350 pheasants and 12,335 partridges. Such an amount of destruction can hardly be called sport; it resembles more the indiscriminate slaughter of a battle-field, where the scientific engines of civilized warfare are brought to bear upon defenceless savages. 1014. DEER AND HARES may be esteemed as the only four-footed animals now hunted in Britain for the table; and even those are not followed with the same ardour as they were wont to be. Still, there is no country in the world where the sport of hunting on horseback is carried to such an extent as in Great Britain, and where the pleasures of the chase are so well understood, and conducted on such purely scientific principles. The Fox, of all "the beasts of the field," is now considered to afford the best sport. For this, it is infinitely superior to the stag; for the real sportsman can only enjoy that chase when the deer is sought for and found like other game which are pursued with hounds. In the case of finding an outlying fallow-deer, which is unharboured, in this manner, great sport is frequently obtained; but this is now rarely to be met with in Britain. In reference to hare-hunting, it is much followed in many parts of this and the sister island; but, by the true foxhunter, it is considered as a sport only fit to be pursued by women and old men. Although it is less dangerous and exciting than the fox-chase, however, it has great charms for those who do not care for the hard riding which the other requires. 1015. THE ART OF TAKING OR KILLING BIRDS is called "fowling," and is either practised as an amusement by persons of rank or property, or for a livelihood by persons who use nets and other apparatus. When practised as an amusement, it principally consists of killing them with a light firearm called a "fowling-piece," and the sport is secured to those who pursue it by the game laws. The other means by which birds are taken, consist in imitating their voices, or leading them, by other artifices, into situations where they become entrapped by nets, birdlime, or otherwise. For taking large numbers of birds, the pipe or call is the most common means employed; and this is done during the months of September and October. We will here briefly give a description of the _modus operandi_ pursued in this sport. A thin wood is usually the spot chosen, and, under a tree at a little distance from the others, a cabin is erected, and there are only such branches left on the tree as are necessary for the placing of the birdlime, and which are covered with it. Around the cabin are placed avenues with twisted perches, also covered with birdlime. Having thus prepared all that is necessary, the birdcatcher places himself in the cabin, and, at sunrise and sunset, imitates the cry of a small bird calling the others to its assistance. Supposing that the cry of the owl is imitated, immediately different kinds of birds will flock together at the cry of their common enemy, when, at every instant, they will be seen falling to the ground, their wings being of no use to them, from their having come in contact with the birdlime. The cries of those which are thus situated now attract others, and thus are large numbers taken in a short space of time. If owls were themselves desired to be taken, it is only during the night that this can be done, by counterfeiting the squeak of the mouse. Larks, other birds, and water-fowl, are sometimes taken by nets; but to describe fully the manner in which this is done, would here occupy too much space. 1016. FEATHERED GAME HAVE FROM TIME IMMEMORIAL given gratification to the palate of man. With the exception of birds of prey, and some other species, Moses permitted his people to eat them; and the Egyptians made offerings to their priests of their most delicate birds. The ancient Greeks commenced their repasts with little roasted birds; and feathered game, amongst the Romans, was served as the second course. Indeed, several of the ancient _gourmands_ of the "imperial city" were so fond of game, that they brought themselves to ruin by eating flamingoes and pheasants. "Some modern nations, the French among others," says Monsieur Soyer, "formerly ate the heron, crane, crow, stork, swan, cormorant, and bittern. The first three especially were highly esteemed; and Laillevant, cook of Charles VII., teaches us how to prepare these meagre, tough birds. Belon says, that in spite of its revolting taste when unaccustomed to it, the bittern is, however, among the delicious treats of the French. This writer also asserts, that a falcon or a vulture, either roasted or boiled, is excellent eating; and that if one of these birds happened to kill itself in flying after game, the falconer instantly cooked it. Lebaut calls the heron a royal viand." 1017. THE HERON WAS HUNTED BY THE HAWK, and the sport of hawking is usually placed at the head of those amusements that can only be practised in the country. This precedency it probably obtained from its being a pastime to generally followed by the nobility, not in Great Britain only, but likewise on the continent. In former times, persons of high rank rarely appeared in public without their dogs and their hawks: the latter they carried with them when they journeyed from one country to another, and sometimes even took them to battle with them, and would not part with them when taken prisoners, even to obtain their own liberty. Such birds were esteemed as the ensigns of nobility, and no action was reckoned more dishonourable in a man of rank than that of giving up his hawk. We have already alluded to the hunting propensities of our own Edward III., and we may also allude to his being equally addicted to hawking. According to Froissart, when this sovereign invaded France, he took with him thirty falconers on horseback, who had charge of his hawks, and every day, as his royal fancy inclined him, he either hunted, or went to the river for the purpose of hawking. In the great and powerful, the pursuit of game as a sport is allowable, but in those who have to earn their bread by the sweat of their brow, it is to be condemned. In Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy" we find a humorous story, told by Poggius, the Florentine, who reprobates this folly in such persons. It is this. A physician of Milan, that cured madmen, had a pit of water in his house, in which he kept his patients, some up to the knees, some to the girdle, some to the chin, _pro modo insaniae_, as they were more or less affected. One of them by chance, that was well recovered, stood in the door, and seeing a gallant pass by with a hawk on his fist, well mounted, with his spaniels after him, would needs know to what use all this preparation served. He made answer, To kill certain fowl. The patient demanded again, what his fowl might be worth which he killed in a year? He replied, Five or ten crowns; and when he urged him further, what his dogs, horse, and hawks stood him in, he told him four hundred crowns. With that the patient bade him begone, as he loved his life and welfare; "for if our master come and find thee here, he will put thee in the pit, amongst the madmen, up to the chin." Thus reproving the madness of such men as will spend themselves in those vain sports, to the neglect of their business and necessary affairs. 1018. AS THE INEVITABLE RESULT OF SOCIAL PROGRESS is, at least to limit, if not entirely to suppress, such sports as we have here been treating of, much of the romance of country life has passed away. This is more especially the case with falconry, which had its origin about the middle of the fourth century, although, lately, some attempts have been rather successfully made to institute a revival of the "gentle art" of hawking. Julius Firmicus, who lived about that time, is, so far as we can find, the first Latin author who speaks of falconers, and the art of teaching one species of birds to fly after and catch others. The occupation of these functionaries has now, however, all but ceased. New and nobler efforts characterize the aims of mankind in the development of their civilization, and the sports of the field have, to a large extent, been superseded by other exercises, it may be less healthful and invigorating, but certainly more elegant, intellectual, and humanizing. [Illustration] RECIPES. CHAPTER XXIII. ROAST BLACK-COCK. 1019. INGREDIENTS.--Black-cock, butter, toast. [Illustration: ROAST BLACK-COCK.] _Mode_.--Let these birds hang for a few days, or they will be tough and tasteless, if not well kept. Pluck and draw them, and wipe the insides and outsides with a damp cloth, as washing spoils the flavour. Cut off the heads, and truss them, the same as a roast fowl, cutting off the toes, and scalding and peeling the feet. Trussing them with the head on, as shown in the engraving, is still practised by many cooks, but the former method is now considered the best. Put them down to a brisk fire, well baste them with butter, and serve with a piece of toast under, and a good gravy and bread sauce. After trussing, some cooks cover the breast with vine-leaves and slices of bacon, and then roast them. They should be served in the same manner and with the same accompaniments as with the plainly-roasted birds. _Time_.--45 to 50 minutes. _Average cost_, from 5s. to 6s. the brace; but seldom bought. _Sufficient_,--2 or 3 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from the middle of August to the end of December. [Illustration: THE BLACK-COCK.] THE BLACK-COCK, HEATH-COCK, MOOR-FOWL, OR HEATH-POULT.--This bird sometimes weighs as much as four pounds, and the hen about two. It is at present confined to the more northern parts of Britain, culture and extending population having united in driving it into more desolate regions, except, perhaps, in a few of the more wild and less-frequented portions of England. It may still be found in the New Forest, in Hampshire, Dartmoor, and Sedgmoor, in Devonshire, and among the hills of Somersetshire, contiguous to the latter. It may also be found in Staffordshire, in North Wales, and again in the north of England; but nowhere so plentiful as in some parts of the Highlands of Scotland. The males are hardly distinguishable from the females until they are about half-grown, when the black feathers begin to appear, first about the sides and breast. Their food consists of the tops of birch and heath, except when the mountain berries are ripe, at which period they eagerly and even voraciously pick the bilberries and cranberries from the bushes. Large numbers of these birds are found in Norway, almost rivalling the turkey in point of size. Some of them have begun to be imported into London, where they are vended in the shops; but the flavour of their flesh is not equal to that of the Scotch bird. HASHED WILD DUCK. 1020. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast wild duck, 1 pint of good brown gravy, 2 tablespoonfuls of bread crumbs, 1 glass of claret, salt, cayenne, and mixed spices to taste; 1 tablespoonful of lemon or Seville orange-juice. _Mode_.--Cut the remains of the duck into neat joints, put them into a stewpan, with all the above ingredients; let them get gradually hot by the side of the fire, and occasionally stir the contents; when on the point of boiling, serve, and garnish the dish with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--About 1/4 hour. _Seasonable_ from November to February. RAGOUT OF WILD DUCK. 1021. INGREDIENTS.--2 wild ducks, 4 shalots, 1 pint of stock No. 105, 1 glass of port wine, 1 oz. of butter, a little flour, the juice of 1/2 lemon, cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Ducks that have been dressed and left from the preceding day will answer for this dish. Cut them into joints, reserve the legs, wings, and breasts until wanted; put the trimmings into a stewpan with the shalots and stock, and let them simmer for about 1/2 hour, and strain the gravy. Put the butter into a stewpan; when melted, dredge in a little flour, and pour in the gravy made from the bones; give it one boil, and strain it again; add the wine, lemon-juice, and cayenne; lay in the pieces of duck, and let the whole gradually warm through, but do not allow it to boil, or the duck will be hard. The gravy should not be too thick, and should be very highly seasoned. The squeeze of a Seville orange is a great improvement to this dish. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour to make the gravy; 1/4 hour for the duck gradually to warm through. _Seasonable_ from November to February. ROAST WILD DUCK. 1022. INGREDIENTS.--Wild duck, flour, butter. [Illustration: ROAST WILD DUCK.] _Mode_.--Carefully pluck and draw them; Cut off the heads close to the necks, leaving sufficient skin to turn over, and do not cut off the feet; some twist each leg at the knuckle, and rest the claws on each side of the breast; others truss them as shown in our Illustration. Roast the birds before a quick fire, and, when they are first put down, let them remain for 5 minutes without basting (this will keep the gravy in); afterwards baste plentifully with butter, and a few minutes before serving dredge them lightly with flour; baste well, and send them to table nicely frothed, and full of gravy. If overdone, the birds will lose their flavour. Serve with a good gravy in the dish, or orange gravy, No. 488; and send to table with them a cut lemon. To take off the fishy taste which wild fowl sometimes have, baste them for a few minutes with hot water to which have been added an onion and a little salt; then take away the pan, and baste with butter.--See coloured plate, G1. _Time_.--When liked underdressed, 20 to 25 minutes; well done, 25 to 35 minutes. _Average cost_, 4s. to 5s. the couple. _Sufficient_,--2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from November to February. [Illustration: THE WILD DUCK.] THE WILD DUCK.--The male of the wild dock is called a mallard; and the young ones are called flappers. The time to try to find a brood of these is about the month of July, among the rushes of the deepest and most retired parts of some brook or stream, where, if the old bird is sprung, it may be taken as a certainty that its brood is not far off. When once found, flappers are easily killed, as they attain their full growth before their wings are fledged. Consequently, the sport is more like hunting water-rats than shooting birds. When the flappers take wing, they assume the name of wild ducks, and about the month of August repair to the corn-fields, where they remain until they are disturbed by the harvest-people. They then frequent the rivers pretty early in the evening, and give excellent sport to those who have patience to wait for them. In order to know a wild duck, it is necessary only to look at the claws, which should be black. HASHED GAME (Cold Meat Cookery). 1023. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold game, 1 onion stuck with 3 cloves, a few whole peppers, a strip of lemon-peel, salt to taste, thickening of butter and flour, 1 glass of port wine, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1 tablespoonful of ketchup, 1 pint of water or weak stock. _Mode_.--Cut the remains of cold game into joints, reserve the best pieces, and the inferior ones and trimmings put into a stewpan with the onion, pepper, lemon-peel, salt, and water or weak stock; stew these for about an hour, and strain the gravy; thicken it with butter and flour; add the wine, lemon-juice, and ketchup; lay in the pieces of game, and let them gradually warm through by the side of the fire; do not allow it to boil, or the game will be hard. When on the point of simmering, serve, and garnish the dish with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--Altogether 1-1/4 hour. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Note_.--Any kind of game may be hashed by the above recipe, and the flavour may be varied by adding flavoured vinegars, curvy powder, &c.; but we cannot recommend these latter ingredients, as a dish of game should really have a gamy taste; and if too many sauces, essences, &c., are added to the gravy, they quite overpower and destroy the flavour the dish should possess. GROUSE PIE. 1024. INGREDIENTS.--Grouse; cayenne, salt, and pepper to taste; 1 lb. of rump-steak, 1/2 pint of well-seasoned broth, puff paste. _Mode_.--Line the bottom of a pie-dish with the rump-steak cut into neat pieces, and, should the grouse be large, cut them into joints; but, if small, they may be laid in the pie whole; season highly with salt, cayenne, and black pepper; pour in the broth, and cover with a puff paste; brush the crust over with the yolk of an egg, and bake from 3/4 to 1 hour. If the grouse is cut into joints, the backbones and trimmings will make the gravy, by stewing them with an onion, a little sherry, a bunch of herbs, and a blade of mace: this should be poured in after the pie is baked. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the grouse, which are seldom bought, 1s. 9d. _Seasonable_ from the 12th of August to the beginning of December. ROAST GROUSE. [Illustration: ROAST GROUSE.] 1025. INGREDIENTS.--Grouse, butter, a thick slice of toasted bread. _Mode_.--Let the birds hang as long as possible; pluck and draw them; wipe, but do not wash them, inside and out, and truss them without the head, the same as for a roast fowl. Many persons still continue to truss them with the head under the wing, but the former is now considered the most approved method. Put them down to a sharp clear fire; keep them well basted the whole of the time they are cooking, and serve them on a buttered toast, soaked in the dripping-pan, with a little melted butter poured over them, or with bread-sauce and gravy.--See coloured plate, L1. _Time_.--1/2 hour; if liked very thoroughly done, 35 minutes. _Average cost_, 2s. to 2s. 6d. the brace; but seldom bought. _Sufficient_,--2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from the 12th of August to the beginning of December. [Illustration: RED GROUSE.] GROUSE.--These birds are divided into wood grouse, black grouse, red grouse, and white grouse. The wood grouse is further distinguished as the cock of the wood, or capercalzie, and is as large as the turkey, being about two feet nine inches in length, and weighing from twelve to fifteen pounds. The female is considerably less than the male, and, in the colour of her feathers, differs widely from the other. This beautiful species is found principally in lofty, mountainous regions, and is very rare in Great Britain; but in the pine forests of Russia, Sweden, and other northern countries, it is very common. In these it has its habitat, feeding on the cones of the trees, and the fruits of various kinds of plants, especially the berry of the jumper. Black grouse is also distinguished as black-game, or the black-cock. It is not larger than the common hen, and weighs only about four pounds. The female is about one-third less than the male, and also differs considerably from him in point of colour. Like the former, they are found chiefly in high situations, and are common in Russia, Siberia, and other northern countries. They are also found in the northern parts of Great Britain, feeding in winter on the various berries and fruits belonging to mountainous countries, and, in summer, frequently descending to the lower lands, to feed upon corn. The red grouse, gorcock, or moor-cock, weighs about nineteen ounces, and the female somewhat less. In the wild heathy tracts of the northern counties of England it is plentiful, also in Wales and the Highlands of Scotland. Mr. Pennant considered it peculiar to Britain, those found in the mountainous parts of Spain, France, and Italy, being only varieties of the same bird. White grouse, white game, or ptarmigan, is nearly the same size as the red grouse, and is found in lofty situations, where it supports itself in the severest weather. It is to be met with in most of the northern countries of Europe, and appears even in Greenland. In the Hebrides, Orkneys, and the Highlands of Scotland, it is also found; and sometimes, though rarely, among the fells of Northumberland and Cumberland. In winter they fly in flocks, and are so little familiar with the sight of man, that they are easily shot, and even snared. They feed on the wild produce of the hills, which sometimes imparts to their flesh a bitter but not unpalatable taste. According to Buffon, it is dark-coloured, and somewhat flavoured like the hare. GROUSE SALAD. (_Soyer's Recipe_.) 1026. INGREDIENTS.--8 eggs, butter, fresh salad, 1 or 2 grouse; for the sauce, 1 teaspoonful of minced shalot, 1 teaspoonful of pounded sugar, the yolk of 1 egg, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley, 1/4 oz. of salt, 4 tablespoonfuls of oil, 2 tablespoonfuls of Chili vinegar, 1 gill of cream. _Mode_.--Boil the eggs hard, shell them, throw them into cold water cut a thin slice off the bottom to facilitate the proper placing of them in the dish, cut each one into four lengthwise, and make a very thin flat border of butter, about one inch from the edge of the dish the salad is to be served on; fix the pieces of egg upright close to each other, the yolk outside, or the yolk and white alternately; lay in the centre a fresh salad of whatever is in season, and, having previously roasted the grouse rather underdone, cut it into eight or ten pieces, and prepare the sauce as follows:--Put the shalots into a basin, with the sugar, the yolk of an egg, the parsley, and salt, and mix in by degrees the oil and vinegar; when these ingredients are well mixed, put the sauce on ice or in a cool place. When ready to serve, whip the cream rather thick, which lightly mix with it; then lay the inferior parts of the grouse on the salad, sauce over so as to cover each piece, then lay over the salad and the remainder of the grouse, pour the rest of the sauce over, and serve. The eggs may be ornamented with a little dot of radishes or beetroot on the point. Anchovy and gherkin, cut into small diamonds, may be placed between, or cut gherkins in slices, and a border of them laid round. Tarragon or chervil-leaves are also a pretty addition. The remains of cold black-game, pheasant, or partridge may be used in the above manner, and will make a very delicate dish. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ from the 12th of August to the beginning of December. [Illustration: THE CAPERCALZIE.] THE CAPERCALZIE.--This bird was to be met with formerly both in Ireland and Scotland, but is now extinct. The male lives separate from the females, except in the breeding season. Its manners and habits are very like those of black grouse, except that it seems to be wholly confined to forests of pine, on the tender shoots of which it feeds. It is by no means uncommon in the woods of Norway, whence we received it. It is also found abundant in Russia, Siberia, Italy, and in some portions of the Alps. It was, in 1760, last seen in Scotland, in the woods of Strathglass. Recent attempts have been made to re-introduce it into that country, but without success; principally owing, as we should imagine, to the want of sufficient food suitable for its sustenance. GROUSE.--Under this general term are included several species of game birds, called black, red, woodland, and white grouse. The black is larger than the red (see No. 1025), and is not so common, and therefore held in higher estimation. The red, however, is a bird of exquisite flavour, and is a native of the mountainous districts of Scotland and the north of England. It feeds on the tops of the heath and the berries that grow amongst them: its colour is a rich chestnut, striped with black. The woodland, or cock of the wood, is the largest among the bird tribes which pass under the denomination of game. It is smaller than the turkey, and was originally common in our mountains; but it is now to be found only in the mountains of Scotland, though it still abounds in the north of Europe, Germany, and in the Alps. It is esteemed as delicious eating, and its plumage is extremely beautiful. The white grouse, or ptarmigan, is not a plentiful bird in Britain; but it is still found in the islands, and weighs about half a pound. The London market is supplied by Norway and Scotland; those from the former country being esteemed the best. When young, it is held in high estimation, being considered as little different from common grouse. ROAST HARE. 1027. INGREDIENTS.--Hare, forcemeat No. 417, a little milk, butter. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Choose a young hare; which may be known by its smooth and sharp claws, and by the cleft in the lip not being much spread. To be eaten in perfection, it must hang for some time; and, if properly taken care of, it may be kept for several days. It is better to hang without being paunched; but should it be previously emptied, wipe the inside every day, and sprinkle over it a little pepper and ginger, to prevent the musty taste which long keeping in the damp occasions, and which also affects the stuffing. After it is skinned, wash it well, and soak for an hour in warm water to draw out the blood; if old, let it lie in vinegar for a short time, but wash it well afterwards in several waters. Make a forcemeat by recipe No. 417, wipe the hare dry, fill the belly with it, and sew it up. Bring the hind and fore legs close to the body towards the head, run a skewer through each, fix the head between the shoulders by means of another skewer, and be careful to leave the ears on. Pat a string round the body from skewer to skewer, and tie it above the back. [Illustration: ROAST HARE.] _Mode_.--The hare should be kept at a distance from the fire when it is first laid down, or the outside will become dry and hard before the inside is done. Baste it well with milk for a short time, and afterwards with butter; and particular attention must be paid to the basting, so as to preserve the meat on the back juicy and nutritive. When it is almost roasted enough, flour the hare, and baste well with butter. When nicely frothed, dish it, remove the skewers, and send it to table with a little gravy in the dish, and a tureen of the same. Red-currant jelly must also not be forgotten, as this is an indispensable accompaniment to roast hare. For economy, good beef dripping may be substituted for the milk and butter to baste with; but the basting, as we have before stated, must be continued without intermission. If the liver is good, it maybe parboiled, minced, and mixed with the stuffing; but it should not be used unless quite fresh.--See coloured plate, E1. _Time_.--A middling-sized hare, 1-1/4 hour; a large hare, 1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, from 4s. to 6s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to the end of February. THE HARE.--This little animal is found generally distributed over Europe, and, indeed, in most parts of the northern world. Its extreme timidity is the endowment which Providence has bestowed upon it as a means of defence; it is therefore attentive to every sound, and is supplied with ears both long and tubular, with which it can hear with great acuteness. Its eyes, also, are so constructed, and placed so prominent in its head, that it can see both before and behind it. It lives entirely upon vegetables, but its flesh is considered dry, notwithstanding that it is deemed, in many respects, superior to that of the rabbit, being more savoury, and of a much higher flavour. Its general time of feeding is the evening; but during the day, if not disturbed, it adheres closely to its _form_. [Illustration: THE HARE.] POTTED HARE (a Luncheon or Breakfast Dish). 1028. INGREDIENTS.--1 hare, a few slices of bacon, a large bunch of savoury herbs, 4 cloves, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole allspice, 2 carrots, 2 onions, salt and pepper to taste, 1 pint of water, 2 glasses of sherry. _Mode_.--Skin, empty, and wash the hare; cut it down the middle, and put it into a stewpan, with a few slices of bacon under and over it; add the remaining ingredients, and stew very gently until the hare is tender, and the flesh will separate easily from the bones. When done enough, take it up, remove the bones, and pound the meat, _with the bacon_, in a mortar, until reduced to a perfectly smooth paste. Should it not be sufficiently seasoned, add a little cayenne, salt, and pounded mace, but be careful that these are well mixed with the other ingredients. Press the meat into potting-pots, pour over clarified butter, and keep in a dry place. The liquor that the hare was stewed in, should be saved for hashes, soups, &c. &c. _Time_.--About 21/2 hours to stew the hare. _Seasonable_ from September to the end of February. BROILED HARE (a Supper or Luncheon Dish). 1029. INGREDIENTS.--The leg and shoulders of a roast hare, cayenne and salt to taste, a little butter. _Mode_.--Cut the legs and shoulders of a roast hare, season them highly with salt and cayenne, and broil them over a very clear fire for 5 minutes. Dish them on a hot dish, rub over them a little cold butter, and send to table very quickly. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Seasonable_ from September to the end of February. HASHED HARE. 1030. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold roast hare, 1 blade of pounded mace, 2 or 3 allspice, pepper and salt to taste, 1 onion, a bunch of savoury herbs, 3 tablespoonfuls of port wine, thickening of butter and flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup. _Mode_.--Cut the cold hare into neat slices, and put the head, bones, and trimmings into a stewpan, with 3/4 pint of water; add the mace, allspice, seasoning, onion, and herbs, and stew for nearly an hour, and strain the gravy; thicken it with butter and flour, add the wine and ketchup, and lay in the pieces of hare, with any stuffing that may be left. Let the whole gradually heat by the side of the fire, and, when it has simmered for about 5 minutes, serve, and garnish the dish with sippets of toasted bread. Send red-currant jelly to table with it. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cold hare, 6d. _Seasonable_ from September to the end of February. JUGGED HARE. (_Very Good_.) 1031. INGREDIENTS.--1 hare, 1-1/2 lb. of gravy beef, 1/2 lb. of butter, 1 onion, 1 lemon, 6 cloves; pepper, cayenne, and salt to taste; 1/2 pint of port wine. _Mode_.--Skin, paunch, and wash the hare, cut it into pieces, dredge them with flour, and fry in boiling butter. Have ready 1-1/2 pint of gravy, made from the above proportion of beef, and thickened with a little flour. Put this into a jar; add the pieces of fried hare, an onion stuck with six cloves, a lemon peeled and cut in half, and a good seasoning of pepper, cayenne, and salt; cover the jar down tightly, put it up to the neck into a stewpan of boiling water, and let it stew until the hare is quite tender, taking care to keep the water boiling. When nearly done, pour in the wine, and add a few forcemeat balls, made by recipe No. 417: these must be fried or baked in the oven for a few minutes before they are put to the gravy. Serve with red-currant jelly. _Time_,--3-1/2 to 4 hours. If the hare is very old, allow 4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 7s. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to the end of February. II. (_A Quicker and more Economical Way_.) 1032. INGREDIENTS.--1 hare, a bunch of sweet herbs, 2 onions, each stuck with 3 cloves, 6 whole allspice, 1/2 teaspoonful of black pepper, a strip of lemon-peel, thickening of butter and flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of mushroom ketchup, 1/4 pint of port wine. _Mode._--Wash the hare nicely, cut it up into joints (not too large), and flour and brown them as in the preceding recipe; then put them into a stewpan with the herbs, onions, cloves, allspice, pepper, and lemon-peel; cover with hot water, and when it boils, carefully remove all the scum, and let it simmer gently till tender, which will be in about 1-3/4 hour, or longer, should the hare be very old. Take out the pieces of hare, thicken the gravy with flour and butter, add the ketchup and port wine, let it boil for about 10 minutes, strain it through a sieve over the hare, and serve. A few fried forcemeat balls should be added at the moment of serving, or instead of frying them, they may be stewed in the gravy, about 10 minutes before the hare is wanted for table. Do not omit to serve red-currant jelly with it. _Time_.--Altogether 2 hours. _Average cost_, 5s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to the end of February. _Note_.--Should there be any left, rewarm it the next day by putting the hare, &c. into a covered jar, and placing this jar in a saucepan of boiling water: this method prevents a great deal of waste. ROAST LANDRAIL, OR CORN-CRAKE. 1033. INGREDIENTS.--3 or 4 birds, butter, fried bread crumbs. [Illustration: LANDRAILS.] _Mode_.--Pluck and draw the birds, wipe them inside and out with damp cloths, and truss them in the following manner:--Bring the head round under the wing, and the thighs close to the sides; pass a skewer through them and the body, and keep the legs straight. Roast them before a clear fire, keep them well basted, and serve on fried bread crumbs, with a tureen of brown gravy. When liked, bread-sauce may also be sent to table with them. _Time_.--12 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_,--Seldom bought. _Sufficient_.--Allow--1 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from August 12th to the middle of September. [Illustration: THE LANDRAIL.] THE LANDRAIL, OR CORN-CRAKE.--This bird is migratory in its habits, yet from its formation, it seems ill adapted for long aërial passages, its wings being short, and placed so forward out of the centre of gravity, that it flies in an extremely heavy and embarrassed manner, and with its legs hanging down. When it alights, it can hardly be sprung a second time, as it runs very fast, and seems to depend for its safety more on the swiftness of its feet than the celerity of its wings. It makes its appearance in England about the same time as the quail, that is, in the months of April and May, and frequents the same places. Its singular cry is first heard when the grass becomes long enough to shelter it, and it continues to be heard until the grass is cut. The bird, however, is seldom seen, for it constantly skulks among the thickest portions of the herbage, and runs so nimbly through it, doubling and winding in every direction, that it is difficult to get near it. It leaves this island before the winter, and repairs to other countries in search of its food, which principally consists of slugs, large numbers of which it destroys. It is very common in Ireland, and, whilst migrating to this country, is seen in great numbers in the island of Anglesea. On its first arrival in England, it is so lean as scarcely to weigh above five or six ounces; before its departure, however, it has been known to exceed eight ounces, and is then most delicious eating. TO DRESS A LEVERET. 1034. INGREDIENTS.--2 leverets, butter, flour. _Mode_.--Leverets should be trussed in the same manner as a hare, but they do not require stuffing. Roast them before a clear fire, and keep them well basted all the time they are cooking. A few minutes before serving, dredge them lightly with flour, and froth them nicely. Serve with plain gravy in the dish, and send to table red-currant jelly with them. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, in full season, 4s. each. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from May to August, but cheapest in July and August. BROILED PARTRIDGE (a Luncheon, Breakfast, or Supper Dish). 1035. INGREDIENTS.--3 partridges, salt and cayenne to taste, a small piece of butter, brown gravy or mushroom sauce. _Mode_.--Pluck, draw, and cut the partridges in half, and wipe the inside thoroughly with a damp cloth. Season them with salt and cayenne, broil them over a very clear fire, and dish them on a hot dish; rub a small piece of butter over each half, and send them to table with brown gravy or mushroom sauce. _Time_.--About 1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. to 2s. a brace. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of September to the beginning of February. PARTRIDGE PIE. 1036. INGREDIENTS.--3 partridges, pepper and salt to taste, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley (when obtainable, a few mushrooms), 3/4 lb. of veal cutlet, a slice of ham, 1/2 pint of stock, puff paste. _Mode_.--Line a pie-dish with a veal cutlet; over that place a slice of ham and a seasoning of pepper and salt. Pluck, draw, and wipe the partridges; cut off the legs at the first joint, and season them inside with pepper, salt, minced parsley, and a small piece of butter; place them in the dish, and pour over the stock; line the edges of the dish with puff paste, cover with the same, brush it over with the yolk of an egg, and bake for 3/4 to 1 hour. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. to 2s. a brace. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of September to the beginning of February. Note.--Should the partridges be very large, split them in half; they will then lie in the dish more compactly. When at hand, a few mushrooms should always be added. POTTED PARTRIDGE. 1037. INGREDIENTS.--Partridges; seasoning to taste of mace, allspice white pepper, and salt; butter, coarse paste. _Mode_.--Pluck and draw the birds, and wipe them inside with a damp cloth. Pound well some mace, allspice, white pepper, and salt; mix together, and rub every part of the partridges with this. Pack the birds as closely as possible in a baking-pan, with plenty of butter over them, and cover with a coarse flour and water crust. Tie a paper over this, and bake for rather more than 1-1/2 hour; let the birds get cold, then cut them into pieces for keeping, pack them closely into a large potting-pot, and cover with clarified butter. This should be kept in a cool dry place. The butter used for potted things will answer for basting, or for paste for meat pies.--See coloured plate, D1. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of September to the beginning of February. SALMI DE PERDRIX, or HASHED PARTRIDGES. 1038. INGREDIENTS.--3 young partridges, 3 shalots, a slice of lean ham, 1 carrot, 3 or 4 mushrooms, a bunch of savoury herbs, 2 cloves, 6 whole peppers, 3/4 pint of stock, 1 glass of sherry or Madeira, a small lump of sugar. _Mode_.--After the partridges are plucked and drawn, roast them rather underdone, and cover them with paper, as they should not be browned; cut them into joints, take off the skin from the wings, legs, and breasts; put these into a stewpan, cover them up, and set by until the gravy is ready. Cut a slice of ham into small pieces, and put them, with the carrots sliced, the shalots, mushrooms, herbs, cloves, and pepper, into a stewpan; fry them lightly in a little butter, pour in the stock, add the bones and trimming from the partridges, and simmer for 1/4 hour. Strain the gravy, let it cool, and skim off every particle of fat; put it to the legs, wings, and breasts, add a glass of sherry or Madeira and a small lump of sugar, let all gradually warm through by the side of the fire, and when on the point of boiling, serve, and garnish the dish with croûtons. The remains of roast partridge answer very well dressed in this way, although not so good as when the birds are in the first instance only half-roasted. This recipe is equally suitable for pheasants, moor-game, &c.; but care must be taken always to skin the joints. _Time_.--Altogether 1 hour. _Sufficient_.--2 or 3 partridges for an entrée. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of September to the beginning of February. ROAST PARTRIDGE. 1039. INGREDIENTS.--Partridge; butter. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Choose young birds, with dark-coloured bills and yellowish legs, and let them hang a few days, or there will be no flavour to the flesh, nor will it be tender. The time they should be kept, entirely depends on the taste of those for whom they are intended, as what some persons would consider delicious, would be to others disgusting and offensive. They may be trussed with or without the head, the latter mode being now considered the most fashionable. Pluck, draw, and wipe the partridge carefully inside and out; cut off the head, leaving sufficient skin on the neck to skewer back; bring the legs close to the breast, between it and the side-bones, and pass a skewer through the pinions and the thick part of the thighs. When the head is left on, it should be brought round and fixed on to the point of the skewer. [Illustration: ROAST PARTRIDGE.] _Mode_.--When the bird is firmly and plumply trussed, roast it before a nice bright fire; keep it well basted, and a few minutes before serving, flour and froth it well. Dish it, and serve with gravy and bread sauce, and send to table hot and quickly. A little of the gravy should be poured over the bird.--See coloured plate, D1. _Time_.--25 to 35 minutes. _Average cost_, is 1s. 6d. to 2s. a brace. _Sufficient_,--2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of September to the beginning of February. [Illustration: PARTRIDGES.] THE PARTRIDGE.--This bird is to be found in nearly all the temperate countries of Europe, but is most abundant in the Ukraine, although it is unable to bear the extremes of climate, whether hot or cold. It was formerly very common in France, and is considered a table luxury in England. The instinct of this bird is frequently exemplified in a remarkable manner, for the preservation of its young. "I have seen it often," says a very celebrated writer, and an accurate observer of nature, "and once in particular, I saw an extraordinary instance of an old bird's solicitude to save its brood. As I was hunting with a young pointer, the dog ran on a brood of very small partridges; the old bird cried, fluttered, and ran tumbling along just before the dog's nose, till she had drawn him to a considerable distance, when she took wing, and flew still further off, but not out of the field; on this the dog returned to me, near the place where the young ones lay concealed in the grass, which the old bird no sooner perceived than she flew back to us, settled just before the dog's nose again, and by rolling and tumbling about, drew off his attention from her young, and thus preserved her brood a second time. I have also seen, when a kite has been hovering over a covey of young partridges, the old birds fly up at the bird of prey, screaming and fighting with all their might to preserve their brood." Partridges should be chosen young; if old, they are valueless. The young ones are generally known by their yellow legs and dark-coloured bills. PHEASANT CUTLETS. 1040. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 pheasants, egg and bread crumbs, cayenne and salt to taste, brown gravy. _Mode_.--Procure 3 young pheasants that have been hung a few days; pluck, draw, and wipe them inside; cut them into joints; remove the bones from the best of these; and the backbones, trimmings, &c., put into a stewpan, with a little stock, herbs, vegetables, seasoning, &c., to make the gravy. Flatten and trim the cutlets of a good shape, egg and bread crumb them, broil them over a clear fire, pile them high in the dish, and pour under them the gravy made from the bones, which should be strained, flavoured, and thickened. One of the small bones should be stuck on the point of each cutlet. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. to 3s. each. _Sufficient_ for 2 entrées. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of October to the beginning of February. ROAST PHEASANT. 1041. INGREDIENTS.--Pheasant, flour, butter. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Old pheasants may be known by the length and sharpness of their spurs; in young ones they are short and blunt. The cock bird is generally reckoned the best, except when the hen is with egg. They should hang some time before they are dressed, as, if they are cooked fresh, the flesh will be exceedingly dry and tasteless. After the bird is plucked and drawn, wipe the inside with a damp cloth, and truss it in the same manner as partridge, No. 1039. If the head is left on, as shown in the engraving, bring it round under the wing, and fix it on to the point of the skewer. [Illustration: ROAST PHEASANT.] _Mode_.--Roast it before a brisk fire, keep it well basted, and flour and froth it nicely. Serve with brown gravy, a little of which should be poured round the bird, and a tureen of bread sauce. 2 or 3 of the pheasant's best tail-feathers are sometimes stuck in the tail as an ornament; but the fashion is not much to be commended.--See coloured plate, F1. _Time_.--1/2 to 1 hour, according to the size. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. to 3s. each. _Sufficient_,--1 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of October to the beginning of February. [Illustration: THE PHEASANT.] THE PHEASANT.--This beautiful bird is said to have been discovered by the Argonauts on the banks of the Phasis, near Mount Ararat, in their expedition to Colchis. It is common, however, in almost all the southern parts of the European continent, and has been long naturalized in the warmest and most woody counties of England. It is very common in France; indeed, so common as to be esteemed a nuisance by the farmers. Although it has been domesticated, this is not easily accomplished, nor is its flesh so palatable then as it is in the wild state. Mr. Ude says--"It is not often that pheasants are met with possessing that exquisite taste which is acquired only by long keeping, as the damp of this climate prevents their being kept as long as they are in other countries. The hens, in general, are the most delicate. The cocks show their age by their spurs. They are only fit to be eaten when the blood begins to run from the bill, which is commonly six days or a week after they have been killed. The flesh is white, tender, and has a good flavour, if you keep it long enough; if not, it is not much different from that of a common fowl or hen." BRILLAT SAVARIN'S RECIPE FOR ROAST PHEASANT, a la Sainte Alliance. 1042. When the pheasant is in good condition to be cooked (_see_ No. 1041), it should be plucked, and not before. The bird should then be stuffed in the following manner:--Take two snipes, and draw them, putting the bodies on one plate, and the livers, &c., on another. Take off the flesh, and mince it finely with a little beef, lard, a few truffles, pepper and salt to taste, and stuff the pheasant carefully with this. Cut a slice of bread, larger considerably than the bird, and cover it with the liver, &c., and a few truffles: an anchovy and a little fresh butter added to these will do no harm. Put the bread, &c., into the dripping-pan, and, when the bird is roasted, place it on the preparation, and surround it with Florida oranges. Do not be uneasy, Savarin adds, about your dinner; for a pheasant served in this way is fit for beings better than men. The pheasant itself is a very good bird; and, imbibing the dressing and the flavour of the truffle and snipe, it becomes thrice better. BROILED PHEASANT (a Breakfast or Luncheon Dish). 1043. INGREDIENTS.--1 pheasant, a little lard, egg and bread crumbs, salt and cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the legs off at the first joint, and the remainder of the bird into neat pieces; put them into a fryingpan with a little lard, and when browned on both sides, and about half done, take them out and drain them; brush the pieces over with egg, and sprinkle with bread crumbs with which has been mixed a good seasoning of cayenne and salt. Broil them over a moderate fire for about 10 minutes, or rather longer, and serve with mushroom-sauce, sauce piquante, or brown gravy, in which a few game-bones and trimmings have been stewed. _Time_.--Altogether 1/2 hour. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from the 1st of October to the beginning of February. THE HEIGHT OF EXCELLENCE IN A PHEASANT.--Things edible have their degrees of excellence under various circumstances: thus, asparagus, capers, peas, and partridges are best when young. Perfection in others is only reached when they attain maturity: let us say, for example, melons and nearly all fruits (we must except, perhaps, the medlar), with the majority of those animals whose flesh we eat. But others, again, are not good until decomposition is about to set in; and here we may mention particularly the snipe and the pheasant. If the latter bird be eaten so soon as three days after it has been killed, it then has no peculiarity of flavour; a pullet would be more relished, and a quail would surpass it in aroma. Kept, however, a proper length of time,--and this can be ascertained by a slight smell and change of colour,--then it becomes a highly, flavoured dish, occupying, so to speak, the middle distance between chicken and venison. It is difficult to define any exact time to "hang" a pheasant; but any one possessed of the instincts of gastronomical science, can at once detect the right moment when a pheasant should be taken down, in the same way as a good cook knows whether a bird should be removed from the spit, or have a turn or two more. TO DRESS PLOVERS. 1044. INGREDIENTS.--3 plovers, butter, flour, toasted bread. _Choosing and Trussing_.--Choose those that feel hard at the vent, as that shows their fatness. There are three sorts,--the grey, green, and bastard plover, or lapwing. They will keep good for some time, but if very stale, the feet will be very dry. Plovers are scarcely fit for anything but roasting; they are, however, sometimes stewed, or made into a ragoût, but this mode of cooking is not to be recommended. _Mode_.--Pluck off the feathers, wipe the outside of the birds with a damp cloth, and do not draw them; truss with the head under the wing, put them down to a clear fire, and lay slices of moistened toast in the dripping-pan, to catch the trail. Keep them _well basted_, dredge them lightly with flour a few minutes before they are done, and let them be nicely frothed. Dish them on the toasts, over which the _trail_ should be equally spread. Pour round the toast a little good gravy, and send some to table in a tureen. _Time_.--10 minutes to 1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. the brace, if plentiful. _Sufficient_ for 2 persons. _Seasonable_.--In perfection from the beginning of September to the end of January. THE PLOVER.--There are two species of this bird, the grey and the green, the former being larger than the other, and somewhat less than the woodcock. It has generally been classed with those birds which chiefly live in the water; but it would seem only to seek its food there, for many of the species breed upon the loftiest mountains. Immense flights of these birds are to be seen in the Hebrides, and other parts of Scotland; and, in the winter, large numbers are sent to the London market, which is sometimes so much glutted with them that they are sold very cheap. Previous to dressing, they are kept till they have a game flavour; and although their flesh is a favourite with many, it is not universally relished. The green is preferred to the grey, but both are inferior to the woodcock. Their eggs are esteemed as a great delicacy. Birds of this kind are migratory. They arrive in England in April, live with us all the spring and summer, and at the beginning of autumn prepare to take leave by getting together in flocks. It is supposed that they then retire to Spain, and frequent the sheep-walks with which that country abounds. [Illustration: THE PLOVER.] TO DRESS THE PTARMIGAN. 1045. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 birds; butter, flour, fried bread crumbs. _Mode_.--The ptarmigan, or white grouse, when young and tender, are exceedingly fine eating, and should be kept as long as possible, to be good. Pluck, draw, and truss them in the same manner as grouse, No. 1025, and roast them before a brisk fire. Flour and froth them nicely, and serve on buttered toast, with a tureen of brown gravy. Bread sauce, when liked, may be sent to table with them, and fried bread crumbs substituted for the toasted bread. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour. _Sufficient_,--2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from the beginning of February to the end of April. THE PTARMIGAN, OR WHITE GROUSE.--This bird is nearly the same size as red grouse, and is fond of lofty situations, where it braves the severest weather, and is found in most parts of Europe, as well as in Greenland. At Hudson's Bay they appear in such multitudes that so many as sixty or seventy are frequently taken at once in a net. As they are as tame as chickens, this is done without difficulty. Buffon says that the Ptarmigan avoids the solar heat, and prefers the frosts of the summits of the mountains; for, as the snow melts on the sides of the mountains, it ascends till it gains the top, where it makes a hole, and burrows in the snow. In winter, it flies in flocks, and feeds on the wild vegetation of the hills, which imparts to its flesh a bitter, but not altogether an unpalatable taste. It is dark-coloured, and has something of the flavour of the hare, and is greatly relished, and much sought after by some sportsmen. [Illustration: THE PTARMIGAN.] TO DRESS QUAILS. 1046. INGREDIENTS.--Quails, butter, toast. _Mode_.--These birds keep good several days, and should be roasted without drawing. Truss them in the same manner as woodcocks, No. 1062; roast them before a clear fire, keep them well basted, and serve on toast. _Time_.--About 20 minutes. _Average cost_.--Seldom bought. _Sufficient_ 2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from October to December. [Illustration: THE QUAIL.] THE QUAIL.--Quails are almost universally diffused over Europe, Asia, and Africa. Being birds of passage, they are seen in immense flocks, traversing the Mediterranean Sea from Europe to Africa, in the autumn, and returning again in the spring, frequently alighting in their passage on many of the islands of the Archipelago, which, with their vast numbers, they almost completely cover. On the western coasts of the kingdom of Naples, they have appeared in such prodigious numbers, that, within the compass of four or five miles, as many as a hundred thousand have been taken in a day. "From these circumstances," says a writer on natural history, "it appears highly probable that the quails which supplied the Israelites with food during their journey through the wilderness, were sent thither, on their passage to the north, by a wind from the south-west, sweeping over Egypt and Ethiopia towards the shores of the Red Sea." In England they are not very numerous, although they breed in it; and many of them are said to remain throughout the year, changing their quarters from the interior parts of the country for the seacoast. TO DRESS SNIPES. 1047. INGREDIENTS.--Snipes, butter, flour, toast. _Mode_.--These, like woodcocks, should be dressed without being drawn. Pluck, and wipe them outside, and truss them with the head under the wing, having previously skinned that and the neck. Twist the legs at the first joint, press the feet upon the thighs, and pass a skewer through these and the body. Place four on a skewer, tie them on to the jack or spit, and roast before a clear fire for about 1/4 hour. Put some pieces of buttered toast into the dripping-pan to catch the trails; flour and froth the birds nicely, dish the pieces of toast with the snipes on them, and pour round, but not over them, a little good brown gravy. They should be sent to table very hot and expeditiously, or they will not be worth eating.--See coloured plate M1. [Illustration: ROAST SNIPE.] _Time_.--About 1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. to 2s. the brace. _Sufficient_,--4 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from November to February. _Note_.--Ortolans are trussed and dressed in the same manner. [Illustration: THE SNIPE.] THE SNIPE.--This is a migratory bird, and is generally distributed over Europe. It is found in most parts of England, in the high as well as the low lands, depending much on the weather. In very wet seasons it resorts to the hills, but at other times frequents marshes, where it can penetrate the earth with its bill, hunting for worms, which form its principal food. In the Hebrides and the Orkneys snipes are plentiful, and they are fattest in frosty weather. In the breeding season the snipe changes its note entirely from that which it has in the winter. The male will keep on wing for an hour together, mounting like a lark, and uttering a shrill piping noise; then, with a bleating sound, not unlike that made by an old goat, it will descend with great velocity, especially if the female be sitting in her nest, from which it will not wander far. ROAST TEAL. 1048. INGREDIENTS.--Teal, butter, a little flour. _Mode_.--Choose fat plump birds, after the frost has set in, as they are generally better flavoured; truss them in the same manner as wild duck, No. 1022; roast them before a brisk fire, and keep them well basted. Serve with brown or orange gravy, water-cresses, and a cut lemon. The remains of teal make excellent hash. _Time_.--From 9 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. each; but seldom bought. _Sufficient_,--2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from October to February. ROAST HAUNCH OF VENISON. 1049. INGREDIENTS.--Venison, coarse flour-and-water paste, a little flour. _Mode_.--Choose a haunch with clear, bright, and thick fat, and the cleft of the hoof smooth and close; the greater quantity of fat there is, the better quality will the meat be. As many people object to venison when it has too much _haut goût_, ascertain how long it has been kept, by running a sharp skewer into the meat close to the bone; when this is withdrawn, its sweetness can be judged of. With care and attention, it will keep good a fortnight, unless the weather is very mild. Keep it perfectly dry by wiping it with clean cloths till not the least damp remains, and sprinkle over powdered ginger or pepper, as a preventative against the fly. When required for use, wash it in warm water, and _dry_ it _well_ with a cloth; butter a sheet of white paper, put it over the fat, lay a coarse paste, about 1/2 inch in thickness, over this, and then a sheet or two of strong paper. Tie the whole firmly on to the haunch with twine, and put the joint down to a strong close fire; baste the venison immediately, to prevent the paper and string from burning, and continue this operation, without intermission, the whole of the time it is cooking. About 20 minutes before it is done, carefully remove the paste and paper, dredge the joint with flour, and baste well with _butter_ until it is nicely frothed, and of a nice pale-brown colour; garnish the knuckle-bone with a frill of white paper, and serve with a good, strong, but unflavoured gravy, in a tureen, and currant jelly; or melt the jelly with a little port wine, and serve that also in a tureen. As the principal object in roasting venison is to preserve the fat, the above is the best mode of doing so where expense is not objected to; but, in ordinary cases, the paste may be dispensed with, and a double paper placed over the roast instead: it will not require so long cooking without the paste. Do not omit to send very hot plates to table, as the venison fat so soon freezes: to be thoroughly enjoyed by epicures, it should be eaten on hot-water plates. The neck and shoulder may be roasted in the same manner. [Illustration: ROAST HAUNCH OF VENISON.] _Time_.--A large haunch of buck venison, with the paste, 4 to 5 hours; haunch of doe venison, 3-1/4 to 3-3/4 hours. Allow less time without the paste. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. to 1s. 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 18 persons. _Seasonable_.--Buck venison in greatest perfection from June to Michaelmas; doe venison from November to the end of January. THE DEER.--This active tribe of animals principally inhabit wild and woody regions. In their contentions, both with each other and the rest of the brute creation, these animals not only use their horns, but strike very furiously with their fore feet. Some of the species are employed as beasts of draught, whilst the flesh of the whole is wholesome, and that of some of the kinds, under the name of "venison," is considered very delicious. Persons fond of hunting have invented peculiar terms by which the objects of their pursuit are characterized: thus the stag is called, the first year, a _calf_, or _hind-calf_; the second, a _knobber_; the third, a _brock_; the fourth, a _staggard_; the fifth, a _stag_; and the sixth, a _hart_. The female is, the first year, called a _calf_; the second, a _hearse_; and the third, a _hind_. In Britain, the stag has become scarcer than it formerly was; but, in the Highlands of Scotland, herds of four or five hundred may still be seen, ranging over the vast mountains of the north; and some of the stags of a great size. In former times, the great feudal chieftains used to hunt with all the pomp of eastern sovereigns, assembling some thousands of their clans, who drove the deer into the toils, or to such stations as were occupied by their chiefs. As this sport, however, was occasionally used as a means for collecting their vassals together for the purpose of concocting rebellion, an act was passed prohibitory of such assemblages. In the "Waverley" of Sir Walter Scott, a deer-hunting scene of this kind is admirably described. VENISON.--This is the name given to the flesh of some kinds of deer, and is esteemed as very delicious. Different species of deer are found in warm as well as cold climates, and are in several instances invaluable to man. This is especially the case with the Laplander, whose reindeer constitutes a large proportion of his wealth. There-- "The reindeer unharness'd in freedom can play, And safely o'er Odin's steep precipice stray, Whilst the wolf to the forest recesses may fly, And howl to the moon as she glides through the sky." In that country it is the substitute for the horse, the cow, the goat, and the sheep. From its milk is produced cheese; from its skin, clothing; from its tendons, bowstrings and thread; from its horns, glue; from its bones, spoons; and its flesh furnishes food. In England we have the stag, an animal of great beauty, and much admired. He is a native of many parts of Europe, and is supposed to have been originally introduced into this country from France. About a century back he was to be found wild in some of the rough and mountainous parts of Wales, as well as in the forests of Exmoor, in Devonshire, and the woods on the banks of the Tamar. In the middle ages the deer formed food for the not over abstemious monks, as represented by Friar Tuck's larder, in the admirable fiction of "Ivanhoe;" and at a later period it was a deer-stealing adventure that drove the "ingenious" William Shakspeare to London, to become a common player, and the greatest dramatist that ever lived. HASHED VENISON. 1050. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of roast venison, its own or mutton gravy, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Cut the meat from the bones in neat slices, and, if there is sufficient of its own gravy left, put the meat into this, as it is preferable to any other. Should there not be enough, put the bones and trimmings into a stewpan, with about a pint of mutton gravy; let them stew gently for an hour, and strain the gravy. Put a little flour and butter into the stewpan, keep stirring until brown, then add the strained gravy, and give it a boil up; skim and strain again, and, when a little cool, put in the slices of venison. Place the stewpan by the side of the fire, and, when on the point of simmering, serve: do not allow it to boil, or the meat will be hard. Send red-currant jelly to table with it. _Time_.--Altogether, 1-1/2 hour. _Seasonable_.--Buck venison, from June to Michaelmas; doe venison, from November to the end of January. _Note_.--A small quantity of Harvey's sauce, ketchup, or port wine, may be added to enrich the gravy: these ingredients must, however, be used very sparingly, or they will overpower the flavour of the venison. [Illustration: FALLOW-DEER (BUCK). FALLOW-DEER (DOE).] THE FALLOW-DEER.--This is the domestic or park deer; and no two animals can make a nearer approach to each other than the stag and it, and yet no two animals keep more distinct, or avoid each other with a more inveterate animosity. They never herd or intermix together, and consequently never give rise to an intermediate race; it is even rare, unless they have been transported thither, to find fellow-deer in a country where stags are numerous. He is very easily tamed, and feeds upon many things which the stag refuses: he also browzes closer than the stag, and preserves his venison better. The doe produces one fawn, sometimes two, but rarely three. In short, they resemble the stag in all his natural habits, and the greatest difference between them is the duration of their lives: the stag, it is said, lives to the age of thirty-five or forty years, and the fallow-deer does not live more than twenty. As they are smaller than the stag, it is probable that their growth is sooner completed. STEWED VENISON. 1051. INGREDIENTS.--A shoulder of venison, a few slices of mutton fat, 2 glasses of port wine, pepper and allspice to taste, 1-1/2 pint of weak stock or gravy, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole pepper, 1/2 teaspoonful of whole allspice. _Mode_.--Hang the venison till tender; take out the bone, flatten the meat with a rolling-pin, and place over it a few slices of mutton fat, which have been previously soaked for 2 or 3 hours in port wine; sprinkle these with a little fine allspice and pepper, roll the meat up, and bind and tie it securely. Put it into a stewpan with the bone and the above proportion of weak stock or gravy, whole allspice, black pepper, and port wine; cover the lid down closely, and simmer, very gently, from 3-1/2 to 4 hours. When quite tender, take off the tape, and dish the meat; strain the gravy over it, and send it to table with red-currant jelly. Unless the joint is very fat, the above is the best mode of cooking it. _Time_.--3-1/2 to 4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. to 1s. 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 10 or 12 persons. _Seasonable_.--Buck venison, from June to Michaelmas; doe venison, from November to the end of January. [Illustration: THE ROEBUCK.] THE ROEBUCK.--This is the _Certuscapreolus_, or common roe, and is of a reddish-brown colour. It is an inhabitant of Asia, as well as of Europe. It has great grace in its movements, and stands about two feet seven inches high, and has a length of about three feet nine. The extent of its horns is from six to eight inches. [Illustration: THE STAG. THE HIND.] THE STAG.--The stag, or hart, is the male of the red deer, and the hind is the female. He is much larger than the fallow-deer, and his age is indicated by his horns, which are round instead of being palmated, like those of the fallow-deer. During the first year he has no horns, but a horny excrescence, which is short and rough, and covered with a thin hairy skin. The next year, the horns are single and straight; and in the third they have two antlers, three the fourth, four the fifth, and five the sixth year; although this number is not always certain, for sometimes they are more, and often less. After the sixth year, the antlers do not always increase; and, although in number they may amount to six or seven on each side, yet the animal's age is then estimated rather by the size of the antlers and the thickness of the branch which sustains them, than by their variety. Large as these horns seem, however, they are shed every year, and their place supplied by new ones. This usually takes place in the spring. When the old horns have fallen off, the new ones do not make their appearance immediately; but the bones of the skull ore seen covered with a transparent periosteum, or skin, which enwraps the bones of all animals. After a short time, however, the skin begins to swell, and to form a sort of tumour. From this, by-and-by, rising from the head, shoot forth the antlers from each side; and, in a short time, in proportion as the animal is in condition, the entire horns are completed. The solidity of the extremities, however, is not perfect until the horns have arrived at their full growth. Old stags usually shed their horns first, which generally happens towards the latter end of February or the beginning of March. Such as are between five and six years old shed them about the middle or latter end of March; those still younger in the month of April; and the youngest of all not till the middle or latter end of May. These rules, though generally true, are subject to variations; for a severe winter will retard the shedding of the horns.--The HIND has no horns, and is less fitted for being hunted than the male. She takes the greatest care of her young, and secretes them in the most obscure thickets, lest they become a prey to their numerous enemies. All the rapacious family of the cat kind, with the wolf, the dog, the eagle, and the falcon, are continually endeavouring to find her retreat, whilst the stag himself is the foe of his own offspring. When she has young, therefore, it would seem that the courage of the male is transferred to the female, for she defends them with the most resolute bravery. If pursued by the hunter, she will fly before the hounds for half the day, and then return to her young, whose life she has thus preserved at the hazard of her own. [Illustration: ELAND (BULL). ELAND (COW).] THE NEW VENISON.--The deer population of our splendid English parks was, until a few years since, limited to two species, the fallow and the red. But as the fallow-deer itself was an acclimated animal, of comparatively recent introduction, it came to be a question why might not the proprietor of any deer-park in England have the luxury of at least half a dozen species of deer and antelopes, to adorn the hills, dales, ferny brakes, and rich pastures of his domain? The temperate regions of the whole world might be made to yield specimens of the noble ruminant, valuable either for their individual beauty, or for their availability to gastronomic purposes. During the last four or live years a few spirited English noblemen have made the experiment of breeding foreign deer in their parks, and have obtained such a decided success, that it may be hoped their example will induce others to follow in a course which will eventually give to England's rural scenery a new element of beauty, and to English tables a fresh viand of the choicest character. A practical solution of this interesting question was made by Viscount Hill, at Hawkestone Park, Salop, in January, 1809. On that occasion a magnificent eland, an acclimated scion of the species whose native home is the South African wilderness, was killed for the table. The noble beast was thus described:--"He weighed 1,176 lbs. as he dropped; huge as a short-horn, but with bone not half the size; active as a deer, stately in all his paces, perfect in form, bright in colour, with a vast dewlap, and strong sculptured horn. This eland in his lifetime strode majestic on the hill-side, where he dwelt with his mates and their progeny, all English-born, like himself." Three pairs of the same species of deer were left to roam at large on the picturesque elopes throughout the day, and to return to their home at pleasure. "Here, during winter, they are assisted with roots and hay, but in summer they have nothing but the pasture of the park; so that, in point of expense, they cost no more than cattle of the best description." Travellers and sportsmen say that the male eland is unapproached in the quality of his flesh by any ruminant in South Africa; that it grows to an enormous size, and lays on fat with as great facility as a true short-horn; while in texture and flavour it is infinitely superior. The lean is remarkably fine, the fat firm and delicate. It was tried in every fashion,--braised brisket, roasted ribs, broiled steaks, filet sauté, boiled aitchbone, &c.,--and in all, gave evidence of the fact, that a new meat of surpassing value had been added to the products of the English park. When we hear such a gratifying account of the eland, it is pleasing to record that Lord Hastings has a herd of the Canadian wapiti, a herd of Indian nylghaus, and another of the small Indian hog-deer; that the Earl of Ducie has been successful in breeding the magnificent Persian deer. The eland was first acclimated in England by the late Earl of Derby, between the years 1835-1851, at his menagerie at Knowsley. On his death, in 1851, he bequeathed to the Zoological Society his breed of elands, consisting of two males and three females. Here the animals have been treated with the greatest success, and from the year 1853 to the present time, the females have regularly reproduced, without the loss of a single calf. ROAST WIDGEON. 1052. INGREDIENTS.--Widgeons, a little flour, butter. _Mode_.--These are trussed in the same manner as wild duck, No. 1022, but must not be kept so long before they are dressed. Put them down to a brisk fire; flour, and baste them continually with butter, and, when browned and nicely frothed, send them to table hot and quickly. Serve with brown gravy, or orange gravy, No. 488, and a cut lemon. _Time_.--1/4 hour; if liked well done, 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. each; but seldom bought. _Sufficient_,--2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from October to February. [Illustration: ROAST WOODCOCK.] ROAST WOODCOCK. 1053. INGREDIENTS.--Woodcocks; butter, flour, toast. _Mode_.--Woodcocks should not be drawn, as the trails are, by epicures, considered a great delicacy. Pluck, and wipe them well outside; truss them with the legs close to the body, and the feet pressing upon the thighs; skin the neck and head, and bring the beak round under the wing. Place some slices of toast in the dripping-pan to catch the trails, allowing a piece of toast for each bird. Roast before a clear fire from 15 to 25 minutes; keep them well basted, and flour and froth them nicely. When done, dish the pieces of toast with the birds upon them, and pour round a very little gravy; send some more to table in a tureen. These are most delicious birds when well cooked, but they should not be kept too long: when the feathers drop, or easily come out, they are fit for table.--See coloured plate, I 1. _Time_.---When liked underdone, 15 to 20 minutes; if liked well done, allow an extra 5 minutes. _Average cost_.--Seldom bought. _Sufficient_,--2 for a dish. _Seasonable_ from November to February. [Illustration: THE WOODCOCK.] THE WOODCOCK.--This bird being migratory in its habits, has, consequently, no settled habitation; it cannot be considered as the property of any one, and is, therefore, not game by law. It breeds in high northern latitudes, and the time of its appearance and disappearance in Sweden coincides exactly with that of its arrival in and return from Great Britain. On the coast of Suffolk its vernal and autumnal visits have been accurately observed. In the first week of October it makes its appearance in small numbers, but in November and December it appears in larger numbers, and always after sunset, and most gregariously. In the same manner as woodcocks take their leave of us, they quit France, Germany, and Italy, making the northern and colder climates their summer rendezvous. They visit Burgundy in the latter part of October, but continue there only a few weeks, the country being hard, and unable to supply them with such sustenance as they require. In the winter, they are found as far south as Smyrna and Aleppo, and, during the same season, in Barbary, where the Africans name them "the ass of the partridge." It has been asserted that they have been seen as far south as Egypt, which is the most remote region to which they can be traced on that side of the eastern world; on the other side, they are common in Japan. Those which resort to the countries of the Levant are supposed to come from the mountains of Armenia, or the deserts of Tartary or Siberia. The flesh of the woodcock is held in high estimation; hence the bird is eagerly sought after by the sportsman. GAME CARVING. BLACKCOCK. [Illustration: BLACKCOCK.] 1054. Skilful carving of game undoubtedly adds to the pleasure of the guests at a dinner-table; for game seems pre-eminently to be composed of such delicate limbs and tender flesh that an inapt practitioner appears to more disadvantage when mauling these pretty and favourite dishes, than larger and more robust _pièces de résistance_. As described at recipe No. 1019, this bird is variously served with or without the head on; and although we do not personally object to the appearance of the head as shown in the woodcut, yet it seems to be more in vogue to serve it without. The carving is not difficult, but should be elegantly and deftly done. Slices from the breast, cut in the direction of the dotted line from 2 to 1, should be taken off, the merrythought displaced and the leg and wing removed by running the knife along from 3 to 4, and following the directions given under the head of boiled fowl, No. 1000, reserving the thigh, which is considered a great delicacy, for the most honoured guests, some of whom may also esteem the brains of this bird. WILD DUCK. [Illustration: WILD DUCK.] 1055. As game is almost universally served as a dainty, and not as a dish to stand the assaults of an altogether fresh appetite, these dishes are not usually cut up entirely, but only those parts are served of each, which are considered the best-flavoured and the primest. Of wild-fowl, the breast alone is considered by epicures worth eating, and slices are cut from this, in the direction indicated by the lines, from 1 to 2; if necessary, the leg and wing can be taken off by passing the knife from 3 to 4, and by generally following the directions described for carving boiled fowl, No. 1000. ROAST HARE. [Illustration: ROAST HARE.] 1056. The "Grand Carver" of olden times, a functionary of no ordinary dignity, was pleased when he had a hare to manipulate, for his skill and grace had an opportunity of display. _Diners à la Russe_ may possibly, erewhile, save modern gentlemen the necessity of learning the art which was in auld lang syne one of the necessary accomplishments of the youthful squire; but, until side-tables become universal, or till we see the office of "grand carver" once more instituted, it will be well for all to learn how to assist at the carving of this dish, which, if not the most elegant in appearance, is a very general favourite. The hare, having its head to the left, as shown in the woodcut, should be first served by cutting slices from each side of the backbone, in the direction of the lines from 3 to 4. After these prime parts are disposed of, the leg should next be disengaged by cutting round the line indicated by the figures 5 to 6. The shoulders will then be taken off by passing the knife round from 7 to 8. The back of the hare should now be divided by cutting quite through its spine, as shown by the line 1 to 2, taking care to feel with the point of the knife for a joint where the back may be readily penetrated. It is the usual plan not to serve any bone in helping hare; and thus the flesh should be sliced from the legs and placed alone on the plate. In large establishments, and where men-cooks are kept, it is often the case that the backbone of the hare, especially in old animals, is taken out, and then the process of carving is, of course, considerably facilitated. A great point to be remembered in connection with carving hare is, that plenty of gravy should accompany each helping; otherwise this dish, which is naturally dry, will lose half its flavour, and so become a failure. Stuffing is also served with it; and the ears, which should be nicely crisp, and the brains of the hare, are esteemed as delicacies by many connoisseurs. PARTRIDGES. [Illustration: ROAST PARTRIDGES.] 1057. There are several ways of carving this most familiar game bird. The more usual and summary mode is to carry the knife sharply along the top of the breastbone of the bird, and cut it quite through, thus dividing it into two precisely equal and similar parts, in the same manner as carving a pigeon, No. 1003. Another plan is to cut it into three pieces; viz., by severing a small wing and leg on either side from the body, by following the line 1 to 2 in the upper woodcut; thus making 2 helpings, when the breast will remain for a third plate. The most elegant manner is that of thrusting back the body from the legs, and then cutting through the breast in the direction shown by the line 1 to 2: this plan will give 4 or more small helpings. A little bread-sauce should be served to each guest. GROUSE. [Illustration] 1058. GROUSE may be carved in the way first described in carving partridge. The backbone of the grouse is highly esteemed by many, and this part of many game birds is considered the finest flavoured. PHEASANT. [Illustration: ROAST PHEASANT.] 1059. Fixing the fork in the breast, let the carver cut slices from it in the direction of the lines from 2 to 1: these are the prime pieces. If there be more guests to satisfy than these slices will serve, then let the legs and wings be disengaged in the same manner as described in carving boiled fowl, No. 1000, the point where the wing joins the neckbone being carefully found. The merrythought will come off in the same way as that of a fowl. The most valued parts are the same as those which are most considered in a fowl. SNIPE. [Illustration: SNIPE.] 1060. One of these small but delicious birds may be given, whole, to a gentleman; but, in helping a lady, it will be better to cut them quite through the centre, from 1 to 2, completely dividing them into equal and like portions, and put only one half on the plate. HAUNCH OF VENISON. [Illustration: HAUNCH OF VENISON.] 1061. Here is a grand dish for a knight of the carving-knife to exercise his skill upon, and, what will be pleasant for many to know, there is but little difficulty in the performance. An incision being made completely down to the bone, in the direction of the line 1 to 2, the gravy will then be able easily to flow; when slices, not too thick, should be cut along the haunch, as indicated by the line 4 to 3; that end of the joint marked 3 having been turned towards the carver, so that he may have a more complete command over the joint. Although some epicures affect to believe that some parts of the haunch are superior to others, yet we doubt if there is any difference between the slices cut above and below the line. It should be borne in mind to serve each guest with a portion of fat; and the most expeditious carver will be the best carver, as, like mutton, venison soon begins to chill, when it loses much of its charm. WOODCOCK. [Illustration: WOODCOCK.] 1062. This bird, like a partridge, may be carved by cutting it exactly into two like portions, or made into three helpings, as described in carving partridge (No. 1057). The backbone is considered the tit-bit of a woodcock, and by many the thigh is also thought a great delicacy. This bird is served in the manner advised by Brillat Savarin, in connection with the pheasant, viz., on toast which has received its drippings whilst roasting; and a piece of this toast should invariably accompany each plate. LANDRAIL. 1063. LANDRAIL, being trussed like Snipe, with the exception of its being drawn, may be carved in the same manner.--See No. 1060. PTARMIGAN. 1064. PTARMIGAN, being of much the same size, and trussed in the same manner, as the red-bird, may be carved in the manner described in Partridge and Grouse carving, Nos. 1057 and 1058. QUAILS. 1065. QUAILS, being trussed and served like Woodcock, may be similarly carved.--See No. 1062. PLOVERS. 1066. PLOVERS may be carved like Quails or Woodcock, being trussed and served in the same way as those birds.--See No. 1055. TEAL. 1067. TEAL, being of the same character as Widgeon and Wild Duck, may be treated, in carving, in the same style. WIDGEON. 1068. WIDGEON may be carved in the same way as described in regard to Wild Duck, at No. 1055. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIV. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON VEGETABLES. "Strange there should be found Who, self-imprison'd in their proud saloons, Renounce the odours of the open field For the unscented fictions of the loom; Who, satisfied with only pencilled scenes, Prefer to the performance of a God, Th' inferior wonders of an artist's hand! Lovely, indeed, the mimic works of art, But Nature's works far lovelier."--COWPER. 1069. "THE ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE KINGDOMS," says Hogg, in his Natural History of the Vegetable Kingdom, "may be aptly compared to the primary colours of the prismatic spectrum, which are so gradually and intimately blended, that we fail to discover where the one terminates and where the other begins. If we had to deal with yellow and blue only, the eye would easily distinguish the one from the other; but when the two are blended, and form green, we cannot tell where the blue ends and the yellow begins. And so it is in the animal and vegetable kingdoms. If our powers of observation were limited to the highest orders of animals and plants, if there were only mammals, birds, reptiles, fishes, and insects in the one, and trees, shrubs, and herbs in the other, we should then be able with facility to define the bounds of the two kingdoms; but as we descend the scale of each, and arrive at the lowest forms of animals and plants, we there meet with bodies of the simplest structure, sometimes a mere cell, whose organization, modes of development and reproduction, are so anomalous, and partake so much of the character of both, that we cannot distinguish whether they are plants or whether they are animals." 1070. WHILST IT IS DIFFICULT TO DETERMINE where the animal begins and the vegetable ends, it is as difficult to account for many of the singularities by which numbers of plants are characterized. This, however, can hardly be regarded as a matter of surprise, when we recollect that, so far as it is at present known, the vegetable kingdom is composed of upwards of 92,000 species of plants. Of this amazing number the lichens and the mosses are of the simplest and hardiest kinds. These, indeed, may be considered as the very creators of the soil: they thrive in the coldest and most sterile regions, many of them commencing the operations of nature in the growth of vegetables on the barest rocks, and receiving no other nourishment than such as may be supplied to them by the simple elements of air and rain. When they have exhausted their period in such situations as have been assigned them, they pass into a state of decay, and become changed into a very fine mould, which, in the active spontaneity of nature, immediately begins to produce other species, which in their turn become food for various mosses, and also rot. This process of growth and decay, being, from time to time, continued, by-and-by forms a soil sufficient for the maintenance of larger plants, which also die and decay, and so increase the soil, until it becomes deep enough to sustain an oak, or even the weight of a tropical forest. To create soil amongst rocks, however, must not be considered as the only end of the lichen; different kinds of it minister to the elegant arts, in the form of beautiful dyes; thus the _lichen rocella_ is used to communicate to silk and wool, various shades of purple and crimson, which greatly enhance the value of these materials. This species is chiefly imported from the Canary Islands, and, when scarce, as an article of commerce has brought as much as £1000 per ton. 1071. IN THE VICINITY OF LICHENS, THE MUSCI, OR MOSSES, are generally to be found. Indeed, wherever vegetation can be sustained, there they are, affording protection to the roots and seeds of more delicate vegetables, and, by their spongy texture, retaining a moisture which preserves other plants from the withering drought of summer. But even in winter we find them enlivening, by their verdure, the cold bosom of Nature. We see them abounding in our pastures and our woods, attaching themselves to the living, and still more abundantly to the dead, trunks and branches of trees. In marshy places they also abound, and become the medium of their conversion into fruitful fields. This is exemplified by the manner in which peat-mosses are formed: on the surface of these we find them in a state of great life and vigour; immediately below we discover them, more or less, in a state of decomposition; and, still deeper, we find their stems and branches consolidated into a light brown peat. Thus are extensive tracts formed, ultimately to be brought into a state of cultivation, and rendered subservient to the wants of man. 1072. WHEN NATURE HAS FOUND A SOIL, her next care is to perfect the growth of her seeds, and then to disperse them. Whilst the seed remains confined in its capsule, it cannot answer its purpose; hence, when it is sufficiently ripe, the pericardium opens, and lets it out. What must strike every observer with surprise is, how nuts and shells, which we can hardly crack with our teeth, or even with a hammer, will divide of themselves, and make way for the little tender sprout which proceeds from the kernel. There are instances, it is said, such as in the Touch-me-not (_impatiens_), and the Cuckoo-flower (_cardamine_), in which the seed-vessels, by an elastic jerk at the moment of their explosion, cast the seeds to a distance. We are all aware, however, that many seeds--those of the most composite flowers, as of the thistle and dandelion--are endowed with, what have not been inappropriately called, wings. These consist of a beautiful silk-looking down, by which they are enabled to float in the air, and to be transported, sometimes, to considerable distances from the parent plant that produced them. The swelling of this downy tuft within the seed-vessel is the means by which the seed is enabled to overcome the resistance of its coats, and to force for itself a passage by which it escapes from its little prison-house. [Illustration: BEETON'S Book of HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT EDITED BY MRS. ISABELLA BEETON] [Illustration: "THE FREE, FAIR HOMES OF ENGLAND."] 1073. BIRDS, AS WELL AS QUADRUPEDS, are likewise the means of dispersing the seeds of plants, and placing them in situations where they ultimately grow. Amongst the latter is the squirrel, which is an extensive planter of oaks; nay, it may be regarded as having, in some measure, been one of the creators of the British navy. We have read of a gentleman who was walking one day in some woods belonging to the Duke of Beaufort, near Troy House, in Monmouthshire, when his attention was arrested by a squirrel, sitting very composedly upon the ground. He stopped to observe its motions, when, in a short time, the little animal suddenly quitted its position, and darted to the top of the tree beneath which it had been sitting. In an instant it returned with an acorn in its mouth, and with its paws began to burrow in the earth. After digging a small hole, it therein deposited an acorn, which it hastily covered, and then darted up the tree again. In a moment it was down with another, which it buried in the same manner; and so continued its labour, gathering and burying, as long as the gentleman had patience to watch it. This industry in the squirrel is an instinct which directs it to lay up a store of provision for the winter; and as it is probable that its memory is not sufficiently retentive to enable it to recollect all the spots in which it deposits its acorns, it no doubt makes some slips in the course of the season, and loses some of them. These few spring up, and are, in time, destined to supply the place of the parent tree. Thus may the sons of Britain, in some degree, consider themselves to be indebted to the industry and defective memory of this little animal for the production of some of those "wooden walls" which have, for centuries, been the national pride, and which have so long "braved the battle and the breeze" on the broad bosom of the great deep, in every quarter of the civilized globe. As with the squirrel, so with jays and pies, which plant among the grass and moss, horse-beans, and probably forget where they have secreted them. Mr. White, the naturalist, says, that both horse-beans and peas sprang up in his field-walks in the autumn; and he attributes the sowing of them to birds. Bees, he also observes, are much the best setters of cucumbers. If they do not happen to take kindly to the frames, the best way is to tempt them by a little honey put on the male and female bloom. When they are once induced to haunt the frames, they set all the fruit, and will hover with impatience round the lights in a morning till the glasses are opened. 1074. Some of the acorns planted by the squirrel of Monmouthshire may be now in a fair way to become, at the end of some centuries, venerable trees; for not the least remarkable quality of oaks is the strong principle of life with which they are endued. In Major Rooke's "Sketch of the forest of Sherwood" we find it stated that, on some timber cut down in Berkland and Bilhaugh, letters were found stamped in the bodies of the trees, denoting the king's reign in which they were marked. The bark appears to have been cut off, and then the letters to have been cut in, and the next year's wood to have grown over them without adhering to where the bark had been cut out. The ciphers were found to be of James I., William and Mary, and one of King John. One of the ciphers of James was about one foot within the tree, and one foot from the centre. It was cut down in 1786. The tree must have been two feet in diameter, or two yards in circumference, when the mark was cut. A tree of this size is generally estimated at 120 years' growth; which number being subtracted from the middle year of the reign of James, would carry the year back to 1492, which would be about the period of its being planted. The tree with the cipher of William and Mary displayed its mark about nine inches within the tree, and three feet three inches from the centre. This tree was felled in 1786. The cipher of John was eighteen inches within the tree, and rather more than a foot from the centre. The middle year of the reign of that monarch was 1207. By subtracting from this 120, the number of years requisite for a tree's growth to arrive at the diameter of two feet, the date of its being planted would seem to have been 1085, or about twenty years after the Conquest. [Illustration: CELLULAR DEVELOPMENT.] 1075. Considering the great endurance of these trees, we are necessarily led to inquire into the means by which they are enabled to arrive at such strength and maturity; and whether it may be considered as a humiliation we will not determine, but, with all the ingenious mechanical contrivances of man, we are still unable to define the limits of the animal and vegetable kingdoms. "Plants have been described by naturalists, who would determine the limits of the two kingdoms, as organized living bodies, without volition or locomotion, destitute of a mouth or intestinal cavity, which, when detached from their place of growth, die, and, in decay, ferment, but do not putrefy, and which, on being subjected to analysis, furnish an excess of carbon and no nitrogen. The powers of chemistry, and of the microscope, however, instead of confirming these views, tend more and more to show that a still closer affinity exists between plants and animals; for it is now ascertained that nitrogen, which was believed to be present only in animals, enters largely into the composition of plants also. When the microscope is brought to aid our powers of observation, we find that there are organized bodies belonging to the vegetable kingdom which possess very evident powers of locomotion, and which change about in so very remarkable a manner, that no other cause than that of volition can be assigned to it." Thus it would seem that, in this particular at least, some vegetables bear a very close resemblance to animal life; and when we consider the manner in which they are supplied with nourishment, and perform the functions of their existence, the resemblance would seem still closer. If, for example, we take a thin transverse slice of the stem of any plant, or a slice cut across its stem, and immerse it in a little pure water, and place it under a microscope, we will find that it consists principally of cells, more or less regular, and resembling those of a honeycomb or a network of cobweb. The size of these varies in different plants, as it does in different parts of the same plant, and they are sometimes so minute as to require a million to cover a square inch of surface. This singular structure, besides containing water and air, is the repository or storehouse of various secretions. Through it, the sap, when produced, is diffused sideways through the plant, and by it numerous changes are effected in the juices which fill its cells. The forms of the cells are various; they are also subject to various transformations. Sometimes a number of cylindrical cells are laid end to end, and, by the absorption of the transverse partitions, form a continuous tube, as in the sap-vessels of plants, or in muscular and nervous fibre; and when cells are thus woven together, they are called cellular tissue, which, in the human body, forms a fine net-like membrane, enveloping or connecting most of its structures. In pulpy fruits, the cells may be easily separated one from the other; and within the cells are smaller cells, commonly known as pulp. Among the cell-contents of some plants are beautiful crystals, called _raphides_. The term is derived from [Greek: rhaphis] a _needle_, on account of the resemblance of the crystal to a needle. They are composed of the phosphate and oxalate of lime; but there is great difference of opinion as to their use in the economy of the plant, and one of the French philosophers endeavoured to prove that crystals are the possible transition of the inorganic to organic matter. The differences, however, between the highest form of crystal and the lowest form of organic life known, viz., a simple reproductive cell, are so manifold and striking, that the attempt to make crystals the bridge over which inorganic matter passes into organic, is almost totally regarded as futile. In a layer of an onion, a fig, a section of garden rhubarb, in some species of aloe, in the bark of many trees, and in portions of the cuticle of the medicinal squill, bundles of these needle-shaped crystals are to be found. Some of them are as large as 1-40th of an inch, others are as small as the 1-1000th. They are found in all parts of the plant,--in the stem, bark, leaves, stipules, petals, fruit, roots, and even in the pollen, with some few exceptions, and they are always situated in the interior of cells. Some plants, as many of the _cactus_ tribe, are made up almost entirely of these needle-crystals; in some instances, every cell of the cuticle contains a stellate mass of crystals; in others, the whole interior is full of them, rendering the plant so exceedingly brittle, that the least touch will occasion a fracture; so much so, that some specimens of _Cactus senilis_, said to be a thousand years old, which were sent a few years since to Kew, from South America, were obliged to be packed in cotton, with all the care of the most delicate jewellery, to preserve them during transport. [Illustration: SILICEOUS CUTICLE FROM UNDER-SIDE OF LEAF OF DEUTZIA SCABRA.] [Illustration: SILICEOUS CUTICLE OF GRASS.] 1076. Besides the cellular tissue, there is what is called a vascular system, which consists of another set of small vessels. If, for example, we, early in the spring, cut a branch transversely, we will perceive the sap oozing out from numerous points over the whole of the divided surface, except on that part occupied by the pith and the bark; and if a twig, on which the leaves are already unfolded, be cut from the tree, and placed with its cut end in a watery solution of Brazil-wood, the colouring matter will be found to ascend into the leaves and to the top of the twig. In both these cases, a close examination with a powerful microscope, will discover the sap perspiring from the divided portion of the stem, and the colouring matter rising through real tubes to the top of the twig: these are the sap or conducting vessels of the plant. If, however, we examine a transverse section of the vine, or of any other tree, at a later period of the season, we find that the wood is apparently dry, whilst the bark, particularly that part next the wood, is swelled with fluid. This is contained in vessels of a different kind from those in which the sap rises. They are found in the _bark_ only in trees, and may be called returning vessels, from their carrying the sap downwards after its preparation in the leaf. It is believed that the passage of the sap in plants is conducted in a manner precisely similar to that of the blood in man, from the regular contraction and expansion of the vessels; but, on account of their extreme minuteness, it is almost an impossibility to be certain upon this point. Numerous observations made with the microscope show that their diameter seldom exceeds a 290th part of a line, or a 3,000th part of an inch. Leuwenhoeck reckoned 20,000 vessels in a morsel of oak about one nineteenth of an inch square. 1077. In the vascular system of a plant, we at once see the great analogy which it bears to the veins and arteries in the human system; but neither it, nor the cellular tissue combined, is all that is required to perfect the production of a vegetable. There is, besides, a tracheal system, which is composed of very minute elastic spiral tubes, designed for the purpose of conveying air both to and from the plant. There are also fibres, which consist of collections of these cells and vessels closely united together. These form the root and the stem. If we attempt to cut them transversely, we meet with difficulty, because we have to force our way across the tubes, and break them; but if we slit the wood lengthwise, the vessels are separated without breaking. The layers of wood, which appear in the stem or branch of a tree cut transversely, consist of different zones of fibres, each the produce of one year's growth, and separated by a coat of cellular tissue, without which they could not be well distinguished. Besides all these, there is the cuticle, which extends over every part of the plant, and covers the bark with three distinct coats. The _liber_, or inner bark, is said to be formed of hollow tubes, which convey the sap downwards to increase the solid diameter of the tree. 1078. THE ROOT AND THE STEM NOW DEMAND A SLIGHT NOTICE. The former is designed, not only to support the plant by fixing it in the soil, but also to fulfil the functions of a channel for the conveyance of nourishment: it is therefore furnished with pores, or spongioles, as they are called, from their resemblance to a sponge, to suck up whatever comes within its reach. It is found in a variety of forms, and hence its adaptation to a great diversity of soils and circumstances. We have heard of a willow-tree being dug up and its head planted where its roots were, and these suffered to spread out in the air like naked branches. In course of time, the roots became branches, and the branches roots, or rather, roots rose from the branches beneath the ground, and branches shot from the roots above. Some roots last one year, others two, and others, like the shrubs and trees which they produce, have an indefinite period of existence; but they all consist of a collection of fibres, composed of vascular and cellular tissue, without tracheae, or breathing-vessels. The stem is the grand distributor of the nourishment taken up by the roots, to the several parts of the plant. The seat of its vitality is said to be in the point or spot called the neck, which separates the stem from the root. If the root of a young plant be cut off, it will shoot out afresh; if even the stem be taken away, it will be renewed; but if this part be injured, the plant will assuredly die. 1079. IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE PLAN OF THIS WORK, special notices of culinary vegetables will accompany the various recipes in which they are spoken of; but here we cannot resist the opportunity of declaring it as our conviction, that he or she who introduces a useful or an ornamental plant into our island, ought justly to be considered, to a large extent, a benefactor to the country. No one can calculate the benefits which may spring from this very vegetable, after its qualities have become thoroughly known. If viewed in no other light, it is pleasing to consider it as bestowing upon us a share of the blessings of other climates, and enabling us to participate in the luxury which a more genial sun has produced. RECIPES. CHAPTER XXV. BOILED ARTICHOKES. 1080. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water, allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt, a piece of soda the size of a shilling; artichokes. [Illustration: ARTICHOKES.] _Mode_.--Wash the artichokes well in several waters; see that no insects remain about them, and trim away the leaves at the bottom. Cut off the stems and put them into _boiling_ water, to which have been added salt and soda in the above proportion. Keep the saucepan uncovered, and let them boil quickly until tender; ascertain when they are done by thrusting a fork in them, or by trying if the leaves can be easily removed. Take them out, let them drain for a minute or two, and serve in a napkin, or with a little white sauce poured over. A tureen of melted butter should accompany them. This vegetable, unlike any other, is considered better for being gathered two or three days; but they must be well soaked and washed previous to dressing. _Time_.--20 to 25 minutes, after the water boils. _Sufficient_,--a dish of 5 or 6 for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to the beginning of September. [Illustration: CARDOON ARTICHOKE.] THE COMPOSITAE, OR COMPOSITE FLOWERS.--This family is so extensive, as to contain nearly a twelfth part of the whole of the vegetable kingdom. It embraces about 9,000 species, distributed over almost every country; and new discoveries are constantly being made and added to the number. Towards the poles their numbers diminish, and slightly, also, towards the equator; but they abound in the tropical and sub-tropical islands, and in the tracts of continent not far from the sea-shore. Among esculent vegetables, the Lettuce, Salsify, Scorzonera, Cardoon, and Artichoke belong to the family. FRIED ARTICHOKES. (Entremets, or Small Dish, to be served with the Second Course.) 1081. INGREDIENTS.--5 or 6 artichokes, salt and water: for the batter,--1/4 lb. of flour, a little salt, the yolk of 1 egg, milk. _Mode_.--Trim and boil the artichokes by recipe No. 1080, and rub them over with lemon-juice, to keep them white. When they are quite tender, take them up, remove the chokes, and divide the bottoms; dip each piece into batter, fry them in hot lard or dripping, and garnish the dish with crisped parsley. Serve with plain melted butter. _Time_.--20 minutes to boil the artichokes, 5 to 7 minutes to fry them. _Sufficient_,--5 or 6 for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to the beginning of September. A FRENCH MODE OF COOKING ARTICHOKES. 1082. INGREDIENTS.--5 or 6 artichokes; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt, 1/2 teaspoonful of pepper, 1 bunch of savoury herbs, 2 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Cut the ends of the leaves, as also the stems; put the artichokes into boiling water, with the above proportion of salt, pepper, herbs, and butter; let them boil quickly until tender, keeping the lid of the saucepan off, and when the leaves come out easily, they are cooked enough. To keep them a beautiful green, put a large piece of cinder into a muslin bag, and let it boil with them. Serve with plain melted butter. _Time_.--20 to 25 minutes. _Sufficient_,--5 or 6 sufficient for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to the beginning of September. ARTICHOKES A L'ITALIENNE. 1083. INGREDIENTS.--4 or 6 artichokes, salt and butter, about 1/2 pint of good gravy. _Mode_.--Trim and cut the artichokes into quarters, and boil them until tender in water mixed with a little salt and butter. When done, drain them well, and lay them all round the dish, with the leaves outside. Have ready some good gravy, highly flavoured with mushrooms; reduce it until quite thick, and pour it round the artichokes, and serve. _Time_.--20 to 25 minutes to boil the artichokes. _Sufficient_ for one side-dish. _Seasonable_ from July to the beginning of September. CONSTITUENT PROPERTIES OF THE ARTICHOKE.--According to the analysis of Braconnet, the constituent elements of an artichoke are,--starch 30, albumen 10, uncrystallizable sugar 148, gum 12, fixed oil 1, woody fibre 12, inorganic matter 27, and water 770. BOILED JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES. 1084. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; artichokes. _Mode_.--Wash, peel, and shape the artichokes in a round or oval form, and put them into a saucepan with sufficient cold water to cover them, salted in the above proportion. Let them boil gently until tender; take them up, drain them, and serve them in a napkin, or plain, whichever mode is preferred; send to table with them a tureen of melted butter or cream sauce, a little of which may be poured over the artichokes when they are _not_ served in a napkin. [Illustration: JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES.] _Time_.--About 20 minutes after the water boils. _Average cost_, 2d. per lb. _Sufficient_,--10 for a dish for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to June. USES OF THE JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE.--This being a tuberous-rooted plant, with leafy stems from four to six feet high, it is alleged that its tops will afford as much fodder per acre as a crop of oats, or more, and its roots half as many tubers as an ordinary crop of potatoes. The tubers, being abundant in the market-gardens, are to be had at little more than the price of potatoes. The fibres of the stems may be separated by maceration, and manufactured into cordage or cloth; and this is said to be done in some parts of the north and west of France, as about Hagenau, where this plant, on the poor sandy soils, is an object of field culture. MASHED JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES. 1085. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1 gallon of water allow 1 oz. of salt; 15 or 16 artichokes, 1 oz. butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Boil the artichokes as in the preceding recipe until tender; drain and press the water from them, and beat them up with a fork. When thoroughly mashed and free from lumps, put them into a saucepan with the butter and a seasoning of white pepper and salt; keep stirring over the fire until the artichokes are quite hot, and serve. _Time_.--About 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to June. JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES WITH WHITE SAUCE. (Entremets, or to be served with the Second Course as a Side-dish.) 1086. INGREDIENTS.--12 to 15 artichokes, 12 to 15 Brussels sprouts, 1/2 pint of white sauce, No. 538. _Mode_.--Peel and cut the artichokes in the shape of a pear; cut a piece off the bottom of each, that they may stand upright in the dish, and boil them in salt and water until tender. Have ready 1/2 pint of white sauce, made by recipe No. 538; dish the artichokes, pour over them the sauce, and place between each a fine Brussels sprout: these should be boiled separately, and not with the artichokes. _Time_.--About 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 2d. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to June. THE JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE.--This plant is well known, being, for its tubers, cultivated not only as a garden vegetable, but also as an agricultural crop. By many it is much esteemed as an esculent, when cooked in various ways; and the domesticated animals eat both the fresh foliage, and the tubers with great relish. By some, they are not only considered nourishing, but even fattening. BOILED ASPARAGUS. 1087. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; asparagus. [Illustration: ASPARAGUS ON TOAST. ASPARAGUS TONGS.] _Mode_.--Asparagus should be dressed as soon as possible after it is cut, although it may be kept for a day or two by putting the stalks into cold water; yet, to be good, like every other vegetable, it cannot be cooked too fresh. Scrape the white part of the stems, _beginning_ from the _head_, and throw them into cold water; then tie them into bundles of about 20 each, keeping the heads all one way, and cut the stalks evenly, that they may all be the same length; put them into _boiling_ water, with salt in the above proportion; keep them boiling quickly until tender, with the saucepan uncovered. When the asparagus is done, dish it upon toast, which should be dipped in the water it was cooked in, and leave the white ends outwards each war, with the points meeting in the middle. Serve with a tureen of melted butter. _Time_.--15 to 18 minutes after the water boils. _Average cost_, in full season, 2s. 6d. the 100 heads. _Sufficient_.--Allow about 50 heads for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_.--May be had, forced, from January but cheapest in May, June, and July. [Illustration: ASPARAGUS.] ASPARAGUS.--This plant belongs to the variously-featured family of the order _Liliaceae_, which, in the temperate regions of both hemispheres, are most abundant, and, between the tropics, gigantic in size and arborescent in form. Asparagus is a native of Great Britain, and is found on various parts of the seacoast, and in the fens of Lincolnshire. At Kynarve Cove, in Cornwall, there is an island called "Asparagus Island," from the abundance in which it is there found. The uses to which the young shoots are applied, and the manure in which they are cultivated in order to bring them to the highest state of excellence, have been a study with many kitchen-gardeners. ASPARAGUS PEAS. (Entremets, or to be served as a Side-dish with the Second Course.) 1088. INGREDIENTS.--100 heads of asparagus, 2 oz. of butter, a small bunch of parsley, 2 or 3 green onions, flour, 1 lump of sugar, the yolks of 2 eggs, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, salt. _Mode_.--Carefully scrape the asparagus, cut it into pieces of an equal size, avoiding that which is in the least hard or tough, and throw them into cold water. Then boil the asparagus in salt and water until three-parts done; take it out, drain, and place it on a cloth to dry the moisture away from it. Put it into a stewpan with the butter, parsley, and onions, and shake over a brisk fire for 10 minutes. Dredge in a little flour, add the sugar, and moisten with boiling water. When boiled a short time and reduced, take out the parsley and onions, thicken with the yolks of 2 eggs beaten with the cream; add a seasoning of salt, and, when the whole is on the point of simmering, serve. Make the sauce sufficiently thick to adhere to the vegetable. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. a pint. _Seasonable_ in May, June, and July. MEDICINAL USES OF ASPARAGUS.--This plant not only acts as a wholesome and nutritious vegetable, but also as a diuretic, aperient, and deobstruent. The chemical analysis of its juice discovers its composition to be a peculiar crystallizable principle, called asparagin, albumen, mannite, malic acid, and some salts. Thours says, the cellular tissue contains a substance similar to sage. The berries are capable of undergoing vinous fermentation, and affording alcohol by distillation. In their unripe state they possess the same properties as the roots, and probably in a much higher degree. ASPARAGUS PUDDING. (A delicious Dish, to be served with the Second Course.) 1089. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of asparagus peas, 4 eggs, 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 1 tablespoonful of _very finely_ minced ham, 1 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste, milk. _Mode_.--Cut up the nice green tender parts of asparagus, about the size of peas; put them into a basin with the eggs, which should be well beaten, and the flour, ham, butter, pepper, and salt. Mix all these ingredients well together, and moisten with sufficient milk to make the pudding of the consistency of thick batter; put it into a pint buttered mould, tie it down tightly with a floured cloth, place it in _boiling water_, and let it boil for 2 hours; turn it out of the mould on to a hot dish, and pour plain melted butter _round_, but not over, the pudding. Green peas pudding may be made in exactly the same manner, substituting peas for the asparagus. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. per pint. _Seasonable_ in May, June, and July. BOILED FRENCH BEANS. 1090. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt, a very small piece of soda. [Illustration: Scarlet Runner.] _Mode_.--This vegetable should always be eaten young, as, when allowed to grow too long, it tastes stringy and tough when cooked. Cut off the heads and tails, and a thin strip on each side of the beans, to remove the strings. Then divide each bean into 4 or 6 pieces, according to size, cutting them lengthways in a slanting direction, and, as they are cut, put them into cold water, with a small quantity of salt dissolved in it. Have ready a saucepan of boiling water, with salt and soda in the above proportion; put in the beans, keep them boiling quickly, with the lid uncovered, and be careful that they do not get smoked. When tender, which may be ascertained by their sinking to the bottom of the saucepan, take them up, throw them into a colander; and when drained, dish and serve with plain melted butter. When very young, beans are sometimes served whole: when they are thus dressed, their colour and flavour are much better preserved; but the more general way of dressing them is to cut them into thin strips. _Time_.--Very young beans, 10 to 12 minutes; moderate size, 15 to 20 minutes, after the water boils. _Average cost_, in full season, 1s. 4d. a peck; but, when forced, very expensive. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1/2 peck for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from the middle of July to the end of September; but may be had, forced, from February to the beginning of June. FRENCH MODE OF COOKING FRENCH BEANS. 1091. INGREDIENTS.--A quart of French beans, 3 oz. of fresh butter, pepper and salt to taste, the juice of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Cut and boil the beans by the preceding recipe, and when tender, put them into a stewpan, and shake over the fire, to dry away the moisture from the beans. When quite dry and hot, add the butter, pepper, salt, and lemon-juice; keep moving the stewpan, without using a spoon, as that would break the beans; and when the butter is melted, and all is thoroughly hot, serve. If the butter should not mix well, add a tablespoonful of gravy, and serve very quickly. _Time_.--About 1/4 hour to boil the beans; 10 minutes to shake them over the fire. _Average cost_, in full season, about 1s. 4d. a peck. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from the middle of July to the end of September. BOILED BROAD OR WINDSOR BEANS. 1092. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water, allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; beans. [Illustration: BROAD BEAN.] _Mode_.--This is a favourite vegetable with many persons, but to be nice, should be young and freshly gathered. After shelling the beans, put them into _boiling_ water, salted in the above proportion, and let them boil rapidly until tender. Drain them well in a colander; dish, and serve with them separately a tureen of parsley and butter. Boiled bacon should always accompany this vegetable, but the beans should be cooked separately. It is usually served with the beans laid round, and the parsley and butter in a tureen. Beans also make an excellent garnish to a ham, and when used for this purpose, if very old, should have their skins removed. _Time_.--Very young beans, 15 minutes; when of a moderate size, 20 to 25 minutes, or longer. _Average cost_, unshelled, 6d. per peck. _Sufficient_.--Allow one peck for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ in July and August. NUTRITIVE PROPERTIES OF THE BEAN.--The produce of beans in meal is, like that of peas, more in proportion to the grain than in any of the cereal grasses. A bushel of beans is supposed to yield fourteen pounds more of flour than a bushel of oats; and a bushel of peas eighteen pounds more, or, according to some, twenty pounds. A thousand parts of bean flour were found by Sir II. Davy to yield 570 parts of nutritive matter, of which 426 were mucilage or starch, 103 gluten, and 41 extract, or matter rendered insoluble during the process. BROAD BEANS A LA POULETTE. 1093. INGREDIENTS.--2 pints of broad beans, 1/2 pint of stock or broth, a small bunch of savoury herbs, including parsley, a small lump of sugar, the yolk of 1 egg, 1/4 pint of cream, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Procure some young and freshly-gathered beans, and shell sufficient to make 2 pints; boil them, as in the preceding recipe, until nearly done; then drain them and put them into a stewpan, with the stock, finely-minced herbs, and sugar. Stew the beans until perfectly tender, and the liquor has dried away a little; then beat up the yolk of an egg with the cream, add this to the beans, let the whole get thoroughly hot, and when on the point of simmering, serve. Should the beans be very large, the skin should be removed previously to boiling them. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the beans, 15 minutes to stew them in the stock. _Average cost_, unshelled, 6d. per peck. _Seasonable_ in July and August. ORIGIN AND VARIETIES OF THE BEAN.--This valuable plant is said to be a native of Egypt, but, like other plants which have been domesticated, its origin is uncertain. It has been cultivated in Europe and Asia from time immemorial, and has been long known in Britain. Its varieties may be included under two general heads,--the white, or garden beans, and the grey, or field beans, of the former, sown in the fields, the mazagan and long-pod are almost the only sorts; of the latter, those known as the horse-bean, the small or ticks, and the prolific of Heligoland, are the principal sorts. New varieties are procured in the same manner as in other plants. BOILED BEETROOT. 1094. INGREDIENTS,--Beetroot; boiling water. _Mode_.--When large, young, and juicy, this vegetable makes a very excellent addition to winter salads, and may easily be converted into an economical and quickly-made pickle. (_See_ No. 369.) Beetroot is more frequently served cold than hot: when the latter mode is preferred, melted butter should be sent to table with it. It may also be stewed with button onions, or boiled and served with roasted onions. Wash the beets thoroughly; but do not prick or break the skin before they are cooked, or they would lose their beautiful colour in boiling. Put them into boiling water, and let them boil until tender, keeping them well covered. If to be served hot, remove the peel quickly, cut the beetroot into thick slices, and send to table melted butter. For salads, pickle, &c., let the root cool, then peel, and cut it into slices. _Time_.--Small beetroot, 1-1/2 to 2 hours; large, 2-1/2 to 3 hours. _Average cost_, in full season, 2d. each. _Seasonable_.--May be had at any time. [Illustration: BEETROOT.] BEETROOT.--The geographical distribution of the order Saltworts (_Salxolaceae_), to which beetroot belongs, is most common in extra-tropical and temperate regions, where they are common weeds, frequenting waste places, among rubbish, and on marshes by the seashore. In the tropics they are rare. They are characterized by the large quantities of mucilage, sugar, starch, and alkaline salts which are found in them. Many of them are used as potherbs, and some are emetic and vermifuge in their medicinal properties. The _root_ of _garden_ or red beet is exceedingly wholesome and nutritious, and Dr. Lyon Playfair has recommended that a good brown bread may be made by rasping down this root with an equal quantity of flour. He says that the average quality of flour contains about 12 per cent. of azotized principles adapted for the formation of flesh, and the average quality of beet contains about 2 per cent. of the same materials. BOILED BROCOLI. 1095. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; brocoli. [Illustration: BOILED BROCOLI.] _Mode_.--Strip off the dead outside leaves, and the inside ones cut off level with the flower; cut off the stalk close at the bottom, and put the brocoli into cold salt and water, with the heads downwards. When they have remained in this for about 3/4 hour, and they are _perfectly_ free from insects, put them into a saucepan of _boiling_ water, salted in the above proportion, and keep them boiling quickly over a brisk fire, with the saucepan uncovered. Take them up with a slice the moment they are done; drain them well, and serve with a tureen of melted butter, a _little_ of which should be poured over the brocoli. If left in the water after it is done, it will break, its colour will be spoiled, and its crispness gone. _Time_.--Small brocoli, 10 to 15 minutes; large one, 20 to 25 minutes. _Average cost_, 2d. each. _Sufficient_,--2 for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to March; plentiful in February and March. [Illustration: BROCOLI.] THE KOHL-RABI, OR TURNIP-CABBAGE.--This variety presents a singular development, inasmuch as the stem swells out like a large turnip on the surface of the ground, the leaves shooting from it all round, and the top being surmounted by a cluster of leaves issuing from it. Although not generally grown as a garden vegetable, if used when young and tender, it is wholesome, nutritious, and very palatable. BOILED BRUSSELS SPROUTS. 1096. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; a _very small_ piece of soda. _Mode_.--Clean the sprouts from insects, nicely wash them, and pick off any dead or discoloured leaves from the outsides; put them into a saucepan of _boiling_ water, with salt and soda in the above proportion; keep the pan uncovered, and let them boil quickly over a brisk fire until tender; drain, dish, and serve with a tureen of melted butter, or with a maître d'hôtel sauce poured over them. Another mode of serving is, when they are dished, to stir in about 1-1/2 oz. of butter and a seasoning of pepper and salt. They must, however, be sent to table very quickly, as, being so very small, this vegetable soon cools. Where the cook is very expeditious, this vegetable, when cooked, may be arranged on the dish in the form of a pineapple, and, so served, has a very pretty appearance. _Time_.--From 9 to 12 minutes after the water boils. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. per peck. _Sufficient_.--Allow between 40 and 50 for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to March. SAVOYS AND BRUSSELS SPROUTS.--When the Green Kale, or Borecole, has been advanced a step further in the path of improvement, it assumes the headed or hearting character, with blistered leaves; it is then known by the name of Savoys and Brussels Sprouts. Another of its headed forms, but with smooth glaucous leaves, is the cultivated Cabbage of our gardens (the _Borecole oleracea capitula_ of science); and all its varieties of green, red, dwarf, tall, early, late, round, conical, flat, and all the forms into which it is possible to put it. TO BOIL YOUNG GREENS OR SPROUTS. 1097. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; a _very small_ piece of soda. [Illustration: BRUSSELS SPROUTS.] _Mode_.--Pick away all the dead leaves, and wash the greens well in cold water; drain them in a colander, and put them into fast-boiling water, with salt and soda in the above proportion. Keep them boiling quickly, with the lid uncovered, until tender; and the moment they are done, take them up, or their colour will be spoiled; when well drained, serve. The great art in cooking greens properly, and to have them a good colour, is to put them into _plenty_ of _fast-boiling_ water, to let them boil very quickly, and to take them up the moment they become tender. _Time_.--Brocoli sprouts, 10 to 12 minutes; young greens, 10 to 12 minutes; sprouts, 12 minutes, after the water boils. _Seasonable_.--Sprouts of various kinds may be had all the year. GREEN KALE, OR BORECOLE.--When Colewort, or Wild Cabbage, is brought into a state of cultivation, its character becomes greatly improved, although it still retains the loose open leaves, and in this form it is called Green Kale, or Borecole. The scientific name is _Borecole oleracea acephala_, and of it there are many varieties, both as regards the form and colour of the leaves, as well as the height which the plants attain. We may observe, that among them, are included the Thousand-headed, and the Cow or Tree Cabbage. BOILED CABBAGE. 1098. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; a _very small_ piece of soda. _Mode_.--Pick off all the dead outside leaves, cut off as much of the stalk as possible, and cut the cabbages across twice, at the stalk end; if they should be very large, quarter them. Wash them well in cold water, place them in a colander, and drain; then put them into _plenty_ of _fast-boiling_ water, to which have been added salt and soda in the above proportions. Stir them down once or twice in the water, keep the pan uncovered, and let them boil quickly until tender. The instant they are done, take them up into a colander, place a plate over them, let them thoroughly drain, dish, and serve. _Time_.--Large cabbages, or savoys, 1/3 to 3/4 hour, young summer cabbage, 10 to 12 minutes, after the water boils. _Average cost_, 2d. each in full season. _Sufficient_,--2 large ones for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_.--Cabbages and sprouts of various kinds at any time. THE CABBAGE TRIBE: THEIR ORIGIN.--Of all the tribes of the _Cruciferae_ this is by far the most important. Its scientific name is _Brassiceae_, and it contains a collection of plants which, both in themselves and their products, occupy a prominent position in agriculture, commerce, and domestic economy. On the cliffs of Dover, and in many places on the coasts of Dorsetshire, Cornwall, and Yorkshire, there grows a wild plant, with variously-indented, much-waved, and loose spreading leaves, of a sea-green colour, and large yellow flowers. In spring, the leaves of this plant are collected by the inhabitants, who, after boiling them in two waters, to remove the saltness, use them as a vegetable along with their meat. This is the _Brassica oleracea_ of science, the Wild Cabbage, or Colewort, from which have originated all the varieties of Cabbage, Cauliflower, Greens, and Brocoli. STEWED RED CABBAGE. 1099. INGREDIENTS.--1 red cabbage, a small slice of ham, 1/2 oz. of fresh butter, 1 pint of weak stock or broth, 1 gill of vinegar, salt and pepper to taste, 1 tablespoonful of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Cut the cabbage into very thin slices, put it into a stewpan, with the ham cut in dice, the butter, 1/2 pint of stock, and the vinegar; cover the pan closely, and let it stew for 1 hour. When it is very tender, add the remainder of the stock, a seasoning of salt and pepper, and the pounded sugar; mix all well together, stir over the fire until nearly all the liquor is dried away, and serve. Fried sausages are usually sent to table with this dish: they should be laid round and on the cabbage, as a garnish. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 4d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to January. THE WILD CABBAGE, OR COLEWORT.--This plant, as it is found on the sea-cliffs of England, presents us with the origin of the cabbage tribe in its simplest and normal form. In this state it is the true Collet, or Colewort, although the name is now applied to any young cabbage which has a loose and open heart. BOILED CARROTS. 1100. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water, allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; carrots. _Mode_.--Cut off the green tops, wash and scrape the carrots, and should there be any black specks, remove them. If very large, cut them in halves, divide them lengthwise into four pieces, and put them into boiling water, salted in the above proportion; let them boil until tender, which may be ascertained by thrusting a fork into them: dish, and serve very hot. This vegetable is an indispensable accompaniment to boiled beef. When thus served, it is usually boiled with the beef; a few carrots are placed round the dish as a garnish, and the remainder sent to table in a vegetable-dish. Young carrots do not require nearly so much boiling, nor should they be divided: these make a nice addition to stewed veal, &c. _Time_.--Large carrots, 1-3/4 to 2-1/4 hours; young ones, about 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. to 8d, per bunch of 18. _Sufficient_,--4 large carrots for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Young carrots from April to June, old ones at any time. [Illustration: CARROTS.] ORIGIN OF THE CARROT.--In its wild state, this vegetable is found plentifully in Britain, both in cultivated lands and by waysides, and is known by the name of birds-nest, from its umbels of fruit becoming incurved from a hollow cup, like a birds-nest. In this state its root is whitish, slender, and hard, with an acrid, disagreeable taste, and a strong aromatic smell, and was formerly used as an aperient. When cultivated, it is reddish, thick, fleshy, with a pleasant odour, and a peculiar, sweet, mucilaginous taste. The carrot is said by naturalists not to contain much nourishing matter, and, generally speaking, is somewhat difficult of digestion. TO DRESS CARROTS IN THE GERMAN WAY. 1101. INGREDIENTS.--8 large carrots, 3 oz. of butter, salt to taste, a very little grated nutmeg, 1 tablespoonful of finely-minced parsley, 1 dessertspoonful of minced onion, rather more than 1 pint of weak stock or broth, 1 tablespoonful of flour. _Mode_.--Wash and scrape the carrots, and cut them into rings of about 1/4 inch in thickness. Put the butter into a stewpan; when it is melted, lay in the carrots, with salt, nutmeg, parsley, and onion in the above proportions. Toss the stewpan over the fire for a few minutes, and when the carrots are well saturated with the butter, pour in the stock, and simmer gently until they are nearly tender. Then put into another stewpan a small piece of butter; dredge in about a tablespoonful of flour; stir this over the fire, and when of a nice brown colour, add the liquor that the carrots have been boiling in; let this just boil up, pour it over the carrots in the other stewpan, and let them finish simmering until quite tender. Serve very hot. This vegetable, dressed as above, is a favourite accompaniment of roast pork, sausages, &c. &c. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour. Average cost, 6d. to 8d. per bunch of 18. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_.--Young carrots from April to June, old ones at any time. CONSTITUENTS OF THE CARROT.--These are crystallizable and uncrystallizable sugar, a little starch, extractive, gluten, albumen, volatile oil, vegetable jelly, or pectin, saline matter, malic acid, and a peculiar crystallizable ruby-red neuter principle, without odour or taste, called carotin. This vegetable jelly, or pectin, so named from its singular property of gelatinizing, is considered by some as another form of gum or mucilage, combined with vegetable acid. It exists more or less in all vegetables, and is especially abundant in those roots and fruits from which jellies are prepared. STEWED CARROTS. 1102. INGREDIENTS.--7 or 8 large carrots, 1 teacupful of broth, pepper and salt to taste, 1/2 teacupful of cream, thickening of butter and flour. _Mode_.--Scrape the carrots nicely; half-boil, and slice them into a stewpan; add the broth, pepper and salt, and cream; simmer till tender, and be careful the carrots are not broken. A few minutes before serving, mix a little flour with about 1 oz. of butter; thicken the gravy with this; let it just boil up, and serve. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to parboil the carrots, about 20 minutes to cook them after they are sliced. _Average cost_, 6d. to 8d. per bunch of 18. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Young carrots from April to June, old ones at any time. NUTRITIVE PROPERTIES OF THE CARROT.--Sir H. Davy ascertained the nutritive matter of the carrot to amount to ninety-eight parts in one thousand; of which ninety-five are sugar and three are starch. It is used in winter and spring in the dairy to give colour and flavour to butter; and it is excellent in stews, haricots, soups, and, when boiled whole, with salt beef. In the distillery, owing to the great proportion of sugar in its composition, it yields more spirit than the potato. The usual quantity is twelve gallons per ton. SLICED CARROTS. (Entremets, or to be served with the Second Course, as a Side-dish.) 1103. INGREDIENTS.--5 or 6 large carrots, a large lump of sugar, 1 pint of weak stock, 3 oz. of fresh butter, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Scrape and wash the carrots, cut them into slices of an equal size, and boil them in salt and water, until half done; drain them well, put them into a stewpan with the sugar and stock, and let them boil over a brisk fire. When reduced to a glaze, add the fresh butter and a seasoning of salt; shake the stewpan about well, and when the butter is well mixed with the carrots, serve. There should be no sauce in the dish when it comes to table, but it should all adhere to the carrots. _Time_.--Altogether, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. to 8d. per bunch of 18. _Sufficient_ for 1 dish. _Seasonable_.--Young carrots from April to June, old ones at any time. THE SEED OF THE CARROT.--In order to save the seed of carrots, the plan is, to select annually the most perfect and best-shaped roots in the taking-up season, and either preserve them in sand in a cellar till spring, or plant them immediately in an open airy part of the garden, protecting them with litter during severe frost, or earthing them over, and uncovering them in March following. The seed is in no danger from being injured by any other plant. In August it is fit to gather, and is best preserved on the stalks till wanted. BOILED CAULIFLOWERS. [Illustration: BOILED CAULIFLOWER.] [Illustration: CAULIFLOWER.] 1104. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Choose cauliflowers that are close and white; trim off the decayed outside leaves, and cut the stalk off flat at the bottom. Open the flower a little in places to remove the insects, which generally are found about the stalk, and let the cauliflowers lie in salt and water for an hour previous to dressing them, with their heads downwards: this will effectually draw out all the vermin. Then put them into fast-boiling water, with the addition of salt in the above proportion, and let them boil briskly over a good fire, keeping the saucepan uncovered. The water should be well skimmed; and, when the cauliflowers are tender, take them up with a slice; let them drain, and, if large enough, place them upright in the dish. Serve with plain melted butter, a little of which may be poured over the flower. _Time_.--Small cauliflower, 12 to 15 minutes, large one, 20 to 25 minutes, after the water boils. _Average cost_, for large cauliflowers, 6d. each. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 large cauliflower for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ from the beginning of June to the end of September. CAULIFLOWERS A LA SAUCE BLANCHE. (Entremets, or Side-dish, to be served with the Second Course.) 1105. INGREDIENTS.--3 cauliflowers, 1/2 pint of sauce blanche, or French melted butter, No. 378; 3 oz. of butter; salt and water. _Mode_.--Cleanse the cauliflowers as in the preceding recipe, and cut the stalks off flat at the bottom; boil them until tender in salt and water, to which the above proportion of butter has been added, and be careful to take them up the moment they are done, or they will break, and the appearance of the dish will be spoiled. Drain them well, and dish them in the shape of a large cauliflower. Have ready 1/2 pint of sauce, made by recipe No. 378, pour it over the flowers, and serve hot and quickly. _Time_.--Small cauliflowers, 12 to 15 minutes, large ones, 20 to 25 minutes, after the water boils. _Average cost_,--large cauliflowers, in full season, 6d. each. _Sufficient_,--1 large cauliflower for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from the beginning of June to the end of September. CAULIFLOWER AND BROCOLI.--These are only forms of the wild Cabbage in its cultivated state. They are both well known; but we may observe, that the purple and white Brocoli are only varieties of the Cauliflower. CAULIFLOWERS WITH PARMESAN CHEESE. (Entremets, or Side-dish, to be served with the Second Course.) 1106. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 cauliflowers, rather more than 1/2 pint of white sauce No. 378, 2 tablespoonfuls of grated Parmesan cheese, 2 oz. of fresh butter, 3 tablespoonfuls of bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Cleanse and boil the cauliflowers by recipe No. 1104, and drain them and dish them with the flowers standing upright. Have ready the above proportion of white sauce; pour sufficient of it over the cauliflowers just to cover the top; sprinkle over this some rasped Parmesan cheese and bread crumbs, and drop on these the butter, which should be melted, but not oiled. Brown with a salamander, or before the fire, and pour round, but not over, the flowers the remainder of the sauce, with which should be mixed a small quantity of grated Parmesan cheese. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, for large cauliflowers, 6d. each. _Sufficient_,--3 small cauliflowers for 1 dish. _Seasonable_ from the beginning of June to the end of September. CELERY. [Illustration: CELERY IN GLASS.] 1107. With a good heart, and nicely blanched, this vegetable is generally eaten raw, and is usually served with the cheese. Let the roots be washed free from dirt, all the decayed and outside leaves being cut off, preserving as much of the stalk as possible, and all specks or blemishes being carefully removed. Should the celery be large, divide it lengthwise into quarters, and place it, root downwards, in a celery-glass, which should be rather more than half filled with water. The top leaves may be curled, by shredding them in narrow strips with the point of a clean skewer, at a distance of about 4 inches from the top. _Average cost_, 2d. per head. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 heads for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to April. _Note_.--This vegetable is exceedingly useful for flavouring soups, sauces, &c., and makes a very nice addition to winter salad. STEWED CELERY A LA CREME. 1108. INGREDIENTS.--6 heads of celery; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt, 1 blade of pounded mace, 1/3 pint of cream. _Mode_.--Wash the celery thoroughly; trim, and boil it in salt and water until tender. Put the cream and pounded mace into a stewpan; shake it over the fire until the cream thickens, dish the celery, pour over the sauce, and serve. _Time_.--Large heads of celery, 25 minutes; small ones, 15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_. 2d. per head. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to April. ALEXANDERS.--This plant is the _Smyrnium olustratum_ of science, and is used in this country in the same way in which celery is. It is a native of Great Britain, and is found in its wild state near the seacoast. It received its name from the Italian "herba Alexandrina," and is supposed to have been originally brought from Alexandria; but, be this as it may, its cultivation is now almost entirely abandoned. STEWED CELERY (with White Sauce). I. 1109. INGREDIENTS.--6 heads of celery, 1 oz. of butter; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt, 1/2 pint of white sauce, No. 537 or 538. _Mode_.--Have ready sufficient boiling water just to cover the celery, with salt and butter in the above proportion. Wash the celery well; cut off the decayed outside leaves, trim away the green tops, and shape the root into a point; put it into the boiling water; let it boil rapidly until tender; then take it out, drain well, place it upon a dish, and pour over about 1/2 pint of white sauce, made by either of the recipes No. 537 or 538. It may also be plainly boiled as above, placed on toast, and melted butter poured over, the same as asparagus is dished. _Time_.--Large heads of celery, 25 minutes, small ones, 15 to 20 minutes, after the water boils. _Average cost_, 2d. per head. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to April. ORIGIN OF CELERY.--In the marshes and ditches of this country there is to be found a very common plant, known by the name of Smallage. This is the wild form of celery; but, by being subjected to cultivation, it loses its acrid nature, and becomes mild and sweet. In its natural state, it has a peculiar rank, coarse taste and smell, and its root was reckoned by the ancients as one of the "five greater aperient roots." There is a variety of this in which the root becomes turnip-shaped and large. It is called _Celeriae_, and is extensively used by the Germans, and preferred by them to celery. In a raw state, this plant does not suit weak stomachs; cooked, it is less difficult of digestion, although a large quantity should not he taken. [Illustration: CELERY.]. II. 1110. INGREDIENTS.--6 heads of celery, 1/2 pint of white stock or weak broth, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, thickening of butter and flour, 1 blade of pounded mace, a _very little_ grated nutmeg; pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Wash the celery, strip off the outer leaves, and cut it into lengths of about 4 inches. Put these into a saucepan, with the broth, and stew till tender, which will be in from 20 to 25 minutes; then add the remaining ingredients, simmer altogether for 4 or 5 minutes, pour into a dish, and serve. It may be garnished with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2d. per head. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from October to April. _Note_.--By cutting the celery into smaller pieces, by stewing it a little longer, and, when done, by pressing it through a sieve, the above stew may be converted into a puree of celery. TO DRESS CUCUMBERS. 1111. INGREDIENTS.--3 tablespoonfuls of salad-oil, 4 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, salt and pepper to taste; cucumber. _Mode_.--Pare the cucumber, cut it equally into _very thin_ slices, and _commence_ cutting from the _thick end_; if commenced at the stalk, the cucumber will most likely have an exceedingly bitter taste, far from agreeable. Put the slices into a dish, sprinkle over salt and pepper, and pour over oil and vinegar in the above proportion; turn the cucumber about, and it is ready to serve. This is a favourite accompaniment to boiled salmon, is a nice addition to all descriptions of salads, and makes a pretty garnish to lobster salad. [Illustration: SLICED CUCUMBERS.] [Illustration: CUCUMBER.] _Average cost_, when scarce, 1s. to 2s. 6d.; when cheapest, may be had for 4d. each. _Seasonable_.--Forced from the beginning of March to the end of June; in full season in July, August, and September. GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF THE CUCUMBERS.--This family is not known in the frigid zone, is somewhat rare in the temperate, but in the tropical and warmer regions throughout the world they are abundant. They are most plentiful in the continent of Hindostan; but in America are not near so plentiful. Many of the kinds supply useful articles of consumption for food, and others are actively medicinal in their virtues. Generally speaking, delicate stomachs should avoid this plant, for it is cold and indigestible. CUCUMBERS A LA POULETTE. 1112. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 cucumbers, salt and vinegar, 2 oz. of butter, flour, 1/2 pint of broth, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley, a lump of sugar, the yolks of 2 eggs, salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Pare and cut the cucumbers into slices of an equal thickness, and let them remain in a pickle of salt and vinegar for 1/2 hour; then drain them in a cloth, and put them into a stewpan with the butter. Fry them over a brisk fire, but do not brown them, and then dredge over them a little flour; add the broth, skim off all the fat, which will rise to the surface, and boil gently until the gravy is somewhat reduced; but the cucumber should not be broken. Stir in the yolks of the eggs, add the parsley, sugar, and a seasoning of pepper and salt; bring the whole to the point of boiling, and serve. _Time_.--Altogether, 1 hour. _Average cost_, when cheapest, 4d. each. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September; but may be had, forced, from the beginning of March. FRIED CUCUMBERS. 1113. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 cucumbers, pepper and salt to taste, flour, oil or butter. _Mode_.--Pare the cucumbers and cut them into slices of an equal thickness, commencing to slice from the thick, and not the stalk end of the cucumber. Wipe the slices dry with a cloth, dredge them with flour, and put them into a pan of boiling oil or butter; Keep turning them about until brown; lift them out of the pan, let them drain, and serve, piled lightly in a dish. These will be found a great improvement to rump-steak: they should be placed on a dish with the steak on the top. _Time_.--5 minutes. _Average cost_, when cheapest, 4d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_.--Forced from the beginning of March to the end of June; in full season in July and August. PROPERTIES AND USES OF THE CUCURBITS.--The common cucumber is the C. sativus of science, and although the whole of the family have a similar action in the animal economy, yet there are some which present us with great anomalies. The roots of those which are perennial contain, besides fecula, which is their base, a resinous, acrid, and bitter principle. The fruits of this family, however, have in general a sugary taste, and are more or less dissolving and perfumed, as we find in the melons, gourds, cucumbers, vegetable-marrows, and squashes. But these are slightly laxative if partaken of largely. In tropical countries, this order furnishes the inhabitants with a large portion of their food, which, even in the most arid deserts and most barren islands, is of the finest quality. In China, Cashmere, and Persia, they are cultivated on the lakes on the floating collections of weeds common in these localities. In India they are everywhere abundant, either in a cultivated or wild state, and the seeds of all the family are sweet and mucilaginous. STEWED CUCUMBERS. 1114. INGREDIENTS.--3 large cucumbers, flour, butter, rather more than 1/2 pint of good brown gravy. _Mode_.--Cut the cucumbers lengthwise the size of the dish they are intended to be served in; empty them of the seeds, and put them into boiling water with a little salt, and let them simmer for 5 minutes; then take them out, place them in another stewpan, with the gravy, and let them boil over a brisk fire until the cucumbers are tender. Should these be bitter, add a lump of sugar; carefully dish them, skim the sauce, pour over the cucumbers, and serve. _Time_.--Altogether, 20 minutes. _Average cost_, when cheapest, 1d. each. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August; but may be had, forced, from the beginning of March. THE CHATE.--This cucumber is a native of Egypt and Arabia, and produces a fruit of almost the same substance as that of the Melon. In Egypt it is esteemed by the upper class natives, as well as by Europeans, as the most pleasant fruit they have. STEWED CUCUMBERS WITH ONIONS. 1115. INGREDIENTS.--6 cucumbers, 3 moderate-sized onions, not quite 1 pint of white stock, cayenne and salt to taste, the yolks of 2 eggs, a very little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Pare and slice the cucumbers, take out the seeds, and cut the onions into thin slices; put these both into a stewpan, with the stock, and let them boil for 1/4 hour or longer, should the cucumbers be very large. Beat up the yolks of 2 eggs; stir these into the sauce; add the cayenne, salt, and grated nutmeg; bring it to the point of boiling, and serve. Do not allow the sauce to boil, or it will curdle. This is a favourite dish with lamb or mutton chops, rump-steaks, &c. _Time_.--Altogether, 20 minutes. _Average cost_, when cheapest, 4d. each. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September; but may be had, forced, from the beginning of March. THE MELON.--This is another species of the cucumber, and is highly esteemed for its rich and delicious fruit. It was introduced to this country from Jamaica, in 1570; since which period it has continued to be cultivated. It was formerly called the Musk Melon. ENDIVE. [Illustration: ENDIVE.] 1116. This vegetable, so beautiful in appearance, makes an excellent addition to winter salad, when lettuces and other salad herbs are not obtainable. It is usually placed in the centre of the dish, and looks remarkably pretty with slices of beetroot, hard-boiled eggs, and curled celery placed round it, so that the colours contrast nicely. In preparing it, carefully wash and cleanse it free from insects, which are generally found near the heart; remove any decayed or dead leaves, and dry it thoroughly by shaking in a cloth. This vegetable may also be served hot, stewed in cream, brown gravy, or butter; but when dressed thus, the sauce it is stewed in should not be very highly seasoned, as that would destroy and overpower the flavour of the vegetable. _Average cost_, 1d. per head. _Sufficient_,--1 head for a salad for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to March. ENDIVE.--This is the _C. endivium_ of science, and is much used as a salad. It belongs to the family of the _Compositae_, with Chicory, common Goats-beard, and others of the same genus. Withering states, that before the stems of the common Goats-beard shoot up the roots, boiled like asparagus, have the same flavour, and are nearly as nutritious. We are also informed by Villars that the children in Dauphiné universally eat the stems and leaves of the young plant before the flowers appear, with great avidity. The fresh juice of these tender herbs is said to be the best solvent of bile. STEWED ENDIVE. 1117. INGREDIENTS.--6 heads of endive, salt and water, 1 pint of broth, thickening of butter and flour, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, a small lump of sugar. _Mode_.--Wash and free the endive thoroughly from insects, remove the green part of the leaves, and put it into boiling water, slightly salted. Let it remain for 10 minutes; then take it out, drain it till there is no water remaining, and chop it very fine. Put it into a stewpan with the broth; add a little salt and a lump of sugar, and boil until the endive is perfectly tender. When done, which may be ascertained by squeezing a piece between the thumb and finger, add a thickening of butter and flour and the lemon-juice: let the sauce boil up, and serve. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil, 5 minutes to simmer in the broth. _Average cost_, 1d. per head. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to March. ENDIVE A LA FRANCAISE. 1118. INGREDIENTS.--6 heads of endive, 1 pint of broth, 3 oz. of fresh butter; salt, pepper, and grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Wash and boil the endive as in the preceding recipe; chop it rather fine, and put into a stewpan with the broth; boil over a brisk fire until the sauce is all reduced; then put in the butter, pepper, salt, and grated nutmeg (the latter must be very sparingly used); mix all well together, bring it to the boiling point, and serve very hot. _Time_,--10 minutes to boil, 5 minutes to simmer in the broth. _Average cost_, 1d. per head. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to March. TO BOIL HARICOTS BLANCS, or WHITE HARICOT BEANS. 1119. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of white haricot beans, 2 quarts of soft water, 1 oz. of butter, 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Put the beans into cold water, and let them soak from 2 to 4 hours, according to their age; then put them into cold water, salted in the above proportion, bring them to boil, and let them simmer very slowly until tender; pour the water away from them, let them stand by the side of the fire, with the lid of the saucepan partially off, to allow the beans to dry; then add 1 oz. of butter and a seasoning of pepper and salt. Shake the beans about for a minute or two, and serve: do not stir them with a spoon, for fear of breaking them to pieces. _Time_.--After the water boils, from 2 to 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter, when other vegetables are scarce. _Note_.--Haricots blancs, when new and fresh, should be put into boiling water, and do not require any soaking previous to dressing. HARICOTS AND LENTILS.--Although these vegetables are not much used in this country, yet in France, and other Catholic countries, from their peculiar constituent properties, they form an excellent substitute for animal food during Lent and _maigre_ days. At the time of the prevalence of the Roman religion in this country, they were probably much more generally used than at present. As reformations are often carried beyond necessity, possibly lentils may have fallen into disuse, as an article of diet amongst Protestants, for fear the use of them might be considered a sign of popery. HARICOTS BLANCS A LA MAITRE D'HOTEL. 1120. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of white haricot beans, 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, pepper and salt to taste, the juice of 1/2 lemon. [Illustration: HARICOT BEANS.] _Mode_.--Should the beans be very dry, soak them for an hour or two in cold water, and boil them until perfectly tender, as in the preceding recipe. If the water should boil away, replenish it with a little more cold, which makes the skin of the beans tender. Let them be very thoroughly done; drain them well; then add to them the butter, minced parsley, and a seasoning of pepper and salt. Keep moving the stewpan over the fire without using a spoon, as this would break the beans; and, when the various ingredients are well mixed with them, squeeze in the lemon-juice, and serve very hot. _Time_.--From 2 to 2-1/2 hours to boil the beans. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. HARICOT BEANS.--This is the _haricot blanc_ of the French, and is a native of India. It ripens readily, in dry summers, in most parts of Britain, but its culture has hitherto been confined to gardens in England; but in Germany and Switzerland it is grown in fields. It is usually harvested by pulling up the plants, which, being dried, are stacked and thrashed. The haulm is both of little bulk and little use, but the seed is used in making the esteemed French dish called haricot, with which it were well if the working classes of this country were acquainted. There is, perhaps, no other vegetable dish so cheap and easily cooked, and, at the same time, so agreeable and nourishing. The beans are boiled, and then mixed with a little fat or salt butter, and a little milk or water and flour. From 3,840 parts of kidney-bean Einholff obtained 1,805 parts of matter analogous to starch, 351 of vegeto-animal matter, and 799 parts of mucilage. HARICOT BEANS AND MINCED ONIONS. 1121. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of white haricot beans, 4 middling-sized onions, 1/4 pint of good brown gravy, pepper and salt to taste, a little flour. _Mode_.--Peel and mince the onions not too finely, and fry them in butter of a light brown colour; dredge over them a little flour, and add the gravy and a seasoning of pepper and salt. Have ready a pint of haricot beans well boiled and drained; put them with the onions and gravy, mix all well together, and serve very hot. _Time_.--From 2 to 2-1/2 hours to boil the beans; 5 minutes to fry the onions. _Average cost_, 4d. per quart. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. HORSERADISH. 1122. This root, scraped, is always served with hot roast beef, and is used for garnishing many kinds of boiled fish. Let the horseradish remain in cold water for an hour; wash it well, and with a sharp knife scrape it into very thin shreds, commencing from the thick end of the root. Arrange some of it lightly in a small glass dish, and the remainder use for garnishing the joint: it should be placed in tufts round the border of the dish, with 1 or 2 bunches on the meat. _Average cost_, 2d. per stick. _Seasonable_ from October to June. [Illustration: HORSERADISH.] THE HORSERADISH.--This belongs to the tribe _Alyssidae_, and is highly stimulant and exciting to the stomach. It has been recommended in chronic rheumatism, palsy, dropsical complaints, and in cases of enfeebled digestion. Its principal use, however, is as a condiment to promote appetite and excite the digestive organs. The horseradish contains sulphur to the extent of thirty per cent, in the number of its elements; and it is to the presence of this quality that the metal vessels in which the radish is sometimes distilled, are turned into a black colour. It is one of the most powerful excitants and antiscorbutics we have, and forms the basis of several medical preparations, in the form of wines, tinctures, and syrups. LETTUCES. 1123. These form one of the principal ingredients to summer salads; should be nicely blanched, and be eaten young. They are seldom served in any other way, but may be stewed and sent to table in a good brown gravy flavoured with lemon-juice. In preparing them for a salad, carefully wash them free from dirt, pick off all the decayed and outer leaves, and dry them thoroughly by shaking them in a cloth. Cut off the stalks, and either halve or cut the lettuces into small pieces. The manner of cutting them up entirely depends on the salad for which they are intended. In France the lettuces are sometimes merely wiped with a cloth and not washed, the cooks there declaring that the act of washing them injuriously affects the pleasant crispness of the plant: in this case scrupulous attention must be paid to each leaf, and the grit thoroughly wiped away. _Average cost_, when cheapest, 1d. each. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 lettuces for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from March to the end of August, but may be had all the year. [Illustration: LETTUCE.] THE LETTUCE.--All the varieties of the garden lettuce have originated from the _Lactuca sativa_ of science, which has never yet been found in a wild state. Hence it may be concluded that it is merely another form of some species, changed through the effects of cultivation. In its young state, the lettuce forms a well-known and wholesome salad, containing a bland pellucid juice, with little taste or smell, and having a cooling and soothing influence on the system. This arises from the large quantities of water and mucilage it contains, and not from any narcotic principle which it is supposed to possess. During the period of flowering, it abounds in a peculiar milky juice, which flows from the stem when wounded, and which has been found to be possessed of decided medicinal properties. BAKED MUSHROOMS. (A Breakfast, Luncheon, or Supper Dish.) 1124. INGREDIENTS.--16 to 20 mushroom-flaps, butter, pepper to taste. _Mode_.--For this mode of cooking, the mushroom flaps are better than the buttons, and should not be too large. Cut off a portion of the stalk, peel the top, and wipe the mushrooms carefully with a piece of flannel and a little fine salt. Put them into a tin baking-dish, with a very small piece of butter placed on each mushroom; sprinkle over a little pepper, and let them bake for about 20 minutes, or longer should the mushrooms be very large. Have ready a _very hot_ dish, pile the mushrooms high in the centre, pour the gravy round, and send them to table quickly, with very _hot_ plates. _Time_.--20 minutes; large mushrooms, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1d. each for large mushroom-flaps. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Meadow mushrooms in September and October; cultivated mushrooms may be had at any time. FUNGI.--These are common parasitical plants, originating in the production of copious filamentous threads, called the mycelium, or spawn. Rounded tubers appear on the mycelium; some of these enlarge rapidly, burst an outer covering, which is left at the base, and protrude a thick stalk, bearing at its summit a rounded body, which in a short time expands into the pileus or cap. The gills, which occupy its lower surface, consist of parallel plates, bearing naked sporules over their whole surface. Some of the cells, which are visible by the microscope, produce four small cells at their free summit, apparently by germination and constriction. These are the sporules, and this is the development of the Agarics. BROILED MUSHROOMS. (A Breakfast, Luncheon, or Supper Dish.) 1125. INGREDIENTS.--Mushroom-flaps, pepper and salt to taste, butter, lemon-juice. [Illustration: BROILED MUSHROOMS.] _Mode_.--Cleanse the mushrooms by wiping them with a piece of flannel and a little salt; cut off a portion of the stalk, and peel the tops: broil them over a clear fire, turning them once, and arrange them on a very hot dish. Put a small piece of butter on each mushroom, season with pepper and salt, and squeeze over them a few drops of lemon-juice. Place the dish before the fire, and when the butter is melted, serve very hot and quickly. Moderate-sized flaps are better suited to this mode of cooking than the buttons: the latter are better in stews. _Time_.--10 minutes for medium-sized mushrooms. _Average cost_, 1d. each for large mushrooms. _Sufficient_.--Allow 3 or 4 mushrooms to each person. _Seasonable_.--Meadow mushrooms in September and October; cultivated mushrooms may be had at any time. [Illustration: MUSHROOMS.] VARIETIES OF THE MUSHROOM.--The common mushroom found in our pastures is the _Agaricus campestris_ of science, and another edible British species is _A. Georgii;_ but _A. primulus_ is affirmed to be the most delicious mushroom. The morel is _Morchella esculenta_, and _Tuber cibarium_ is the common truffle. There is in New Zealand a long fungus, which grows from the head of a caterpillar, and which forms a horn, as it were, and is called _Sphaeria Robertsii_. TO PRESERVE MUSHROOMS. 1126. INGREDIENTS.--To each quart of mushrooms, allow 3 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste, the juice of 1 lemon, clarified butter. _Mode_.--Peel the mushrooms, put them into cold water, with a little lemon-juice; take them out and _dry_ them very carefully in a cloth. Put the butter into a stewpan capable of holding the mushrooms; when it is melted, add the mushrooms, lemon-juice, and a seasoning of pepper and salt; draw them down over a slow fire, and let them remain until their liquor is boiled away, and they have become quite dry, but be careful in not allowing them to stick to the bottom of the stewpan. When done, put them into pots, and pour over the top clarified butter. If wanted for immediate use, they will keep good a few days without being covered over. To re-warm them, put the mushrooms into a stewpan, strain the butter from them, and they will be ready for use. _Average cost_, 1d. each. _Seasonable_.--Meadow mushrooms in September and October; cultivated mushrooms may be had at any time. LOCALITIES OF THE MUSHROOM.--Mushrooms are to be met with in pastures, woods, and marshes, but are very capricious and uncertain in their places of growth, multitudes being obtained in one season where few or none were to be found in the preceding. They sometimes grow solitary, but more frequently they are gregarious, and rise in a regular circular form. Many species are employed by man as food; but, generally speaking, they are difficult of digestion, and by no means very nourishing. Many of them are also of suspicious qualities. Little reliance can be placed either on their taste, smell, or colour, as much depends on the situation in which they vegetate; and even the same plant, it is affirmed, may be innocent when young, but become noxious when advanced in age. STEWED MUSHROOMS. 1127. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint mushroom-buttons, 3 oz. of fresh butter, white pepper and salt to taste, lemon-juice, 1 teaspoonful of flour, cream or milk, 1 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Cut off the ends of the stalks, and pare neatly a pint of mushroom-buttons; put them into a basin of water, with a little lemon-juice, as they are done. When all are prepared, take them from the water with the hands, to avoid the sediment, and put them into a stewpan with the fresh butter, white pepper, salt, and the juice of 1/2 lemon; cover the pan closely, and let the mushrooms stew gently from 20 to 25 minutes; then thicken the butter with the above proportion of flour, add gradually sufficient cream, or cream and milk, to make the sauce of a proper consistency, and put in the grated nutmeg. If the mushrooms are not perfectly tender, stew them for 5 minutes longer, remove every particle of butter which may be floating on the top, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, from 9d. to 2s. per pint. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Meadow mushrooms in September and October. TO PROCURE MUSHROOMS.--In order to obtain mushrooms at all seasons, several methods of propagation have been had recourse to. It is said that, in some parts of Italy, a species of stone is used for this purpose, which is described as being of two different kinds; the one is found in the chalk hills near Naples, and has a white, porous, stalactical appearance; the other is a hardened turf from some volcanic mountains near Florence. These stones are kept in cellars, and occasionally moistened with water which has been used in the washing of mushrooms, and are thus supplied with their minute seeds. In this country, gardeners provide themselves with what is called _spawn_, either from the old manure of cucumber-beds, or purchase it from those whose business it is to propagate it. When thus procured, it is usually made up for sale in quadrils, consisting of numerous white fibrous roots, having a strong smell of mushrooms. This is planted in rows, in a dry situation, and carefully attended to for five or six weeks, when the bed begins to produce, and continues to do so for several months. STEWED MUSHROOMS IN GRAVY. 1128. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of mushroom-buttons, 1 pint of brown gravy No. 436, 1/4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Make a pint of brown gravy by recipe 436; cut nearly all the stalks away from the mushrooms and peel the tops; put them into a stewpan, with the gravy, and simmer them gently from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour. Add the nutmeg and a seasoning of cayenne and salt, and serve very hot. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. to 2s. per pint. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Meadow mushrooms in September and October. ANALYSIS OF FUNGI.--The fungi have been examined chemically with much care, both by MM. Bracannot and Vauquelin, who designate the insoluble spongy matter by the name of fungin, and the soluble portion is found to contain the bolotic and the fungic acids. BAKED SPANISH ONIONS. 1129. INGREDIENTS.--4 or 5 Spanish onions, salt, and water. _Mode_.--Put the onions, with their skins on, into a saucepan of boiling water slightly salted, and let them boil quickly for an hour. Then take them out, wipe them thoroughly, wrap each one in a piece of paper separately, and bake them in a moderate oven for 2 hours, or longer, should the onions be very large. They may be served in their skins, and eaten with a piece of cold butter and a seasoning of pepper and salt; or they may be peeled, and a good brown gravy poured over them. _Time_.--1 hour to boil, 2 hours to bake. _Average cost_, medium-sized, 2d. each. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to January. [Illustration: ONION.] THE GENUS ALLIUM.--The Onion, like the Leek, Garlic, and Shalot, belongs to the genus _Allium_, which is a numerous species of vegetable; and every one of them possesses, more or less, a volatile and acrid penetrating principle, pricking the thin transparent membrane of the eyelids; and all are very similar in their properties. In the whole of them the bulb is the most active part, and any one of them may supply the place of the other; for they are all irritant, excitant, and vesicant. With many, the onion is a very great favourite, and is considered an extremely nutritive vegetable. The Spanish kind is frequently taken for supper, it being simply boiled, and then seasoned with salt, pepper, and butter. Some dredge on a little flour, but many prefer it without this. BURNT ONIONS FOR GRAVIES. 1130. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of onions, 1/3 pint of water, 1/2 lb. of moist sugar, 1/3 pint of vinegar. _Mode_.--Peel and chop the onions fine, and put them into a stewpan (not tinned), with the water; let them boil for 5 minutes, then add the sugar, and simmer gently until the mixture becomes nearly black and throws out bubbles of smoke. Have ready the above proportion of boiling vinegar, strain the liquor gradually to it, and keep stirring with a wooden spoon until it is well incorporated. When cold, bottle for use. _Time_.--Altogether, 1 hour. PROPERTIES OF THE ONION.--The onion is possessed of a white, acrid, volatile oil, holding sulphur in solution, albumen, a good deal of uncrystallizable sugar and mucilage; phosphoric acid, both free and combined with lime; acetic acid, citrate of lime, and lignine. Of all the species of allium, the onion has the volatile principle in the greatest degree; and hence it is impossible to separate the scales of the root without the eyes being affected. The juice is sensibly acid, and is capable of being, by fermentation, converted into vinegar, and, mixed with water or the dregs of beer, yields, by distillation, an alcoholic liquor. Although used as a common esculent, onions are not suited to all stomachs; there are some who cannot eat them either fried or roasted, whilst others prefer them boiled, which is the best way of using them, as, by the process they then undergo, they are deprived of their essential oil. The pulp of roasted onions, with oil, forms an excellent anodyne and emollient poultice to suppurating tumours. STEWED SPANISH ONIONS. 1131--INGREDIENTS.--5 or 6 Spanish onions, 1 pint of good broth or gravy. _Mode_.--Peel the onions, taking care not to cut away too much of the tops or tails, or they would then fall to pieces; put them into a stewpan capable of holding them at the bottom without piling them one on the top of another; add the broth or gravy, and simmer _very gently_ until the onions are perfectly tender. Dish them, pour the gravy round, and serve. Instead of using broth, Spanish onions may be stewed with a large piece of butter: they must be done very gradually over a slow fire or hot-plate, and will produce plenty of gravy. _Time_.--To stew in gravy, 2 hours, or longer if very large. _Average cost_.--medium-sized, 2d. each. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to January. _Note_.--Stewed Spanish onions are a favourite accompaniment to roast shoulder of mutton. ORIGIN OF THE ONION.--This vegetable is thought to have originally come from India, through Egypt, where it became an object of worship. Thence it was transmitted to Greece, thence to Italy, and ultimately it was distributed throughout Europe, in almost every part of which it has, from time immemorial, been cultivated. In warm climates it is found to be less acrid and much sweeter than in colder latitudes; and in Spain it is not at all unusual to see a peasant munching an onion, as an Englishman would an apple. Spanish onions, which are imported to this country during the winter months, are, when properly roasted, perfectly sweet, and equal to many preserves. BOILED PARSNIPS. 1132. INGREDIENTS.--Parsnips; to each gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Wash the parsnips, scrape them thoroughly, and, with the point of the knife, remove any black specks about them, and, should they be very large, cut the thick part into quarters. Put them into a saucepan of boiling water salted in the above proportion, boil them rapidly until tender, which may be ascertained by thrusting a fork in them; take them up, drain them, and serve in a vegetable-dish. This vegetable is usually served with salt fish, boiled pork, or boiled beef: when sent to table with the latter, a few should be placed alternately with carrots round the dish, as a garnish. _Time_.--Large parsnips, 1 to 1-1/2 hour; small ones, 1/2 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1d. each. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 for each person. _Seasonable_ from October to May. [Illustration: THE PARSNIP.] THE PARSNIP.--This vegetable is found wild in meadows all over Europe, and, in England, is met with very frequently on dry banks in a chalky soil. In its wild state, the root is white, mucilaginous, aromatic, and sweet, with some degree of acrimony: when old, it has been known to cause vertigo. Willis relates that a whole family fell into delirium from having eaten of its roots, and cattle never touch it in its wild state. In domestic economy the parsnip is much used, and is found to be a highly nutritious vegetable. In times of scarcity, an excellent bread has been made from the roots, and they also furnish an excellent wine, resembling the malmsey of Madeira and the Canaries: a spirit is also obtained from them in as great quantities as from carrots. The composition of the parsnip-root has been found to be 79.4 of water, 0.9 starch and fibre, 6.1 gum, 5.5 sugar, and 2.1 of albumen. BOILED GREEN PEAS. 1133. INGREDIENTS.--Green peas; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 _small_ teaspoonful of moist sugar, 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--This delicious vegetable, to be eaten in perfection, should be young, and not _gathered_ or _shelled_ long before it is dressed. Shell the peas, wash them well in cold water, and drain them; then put them into a saucepan with plenty of _fast-boiling_ water, to which salt and _moist sugar_ have been added in the above proportion; let them boil quickly over a brisk fire, with the lid of the saucepan uncovered, and be careful that the smoke does not draw in. When tender, pour them into a colander; put them into a hot vegetable-dish, and quite in the centre of the peas place a piece of butter, the size of a walnut. Many cooks boil a small bunch of mint _with_ the _peas_, or garnish them with it, by boiling a few sprigs in a saucepan by themselves. Should the peas be very old, and difficult to boil a good colour, a very tiny piece of soda may be thrown in the water previous to putting them in; but this must be very sparingly used, as it causes the peas, when boiled, to have a smashed and broken appearance. With young peas, there is not the slightest occasion to use it. _Time_.--Young peas, 10 to 15 minutes; the large sorts, such as marrowfats, &c., 18 to 24 minutes; old peas, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, when cheapest, 6d. per peck; when first in season, 1s. to 1s. 6d. per peck. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 peck of unshelled peas for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from June to the end of August. ORIGIN OF THE PEA.--All the varieties of garden peas which are cultivated have originated from the _Pisum sativum_, a native of the south of Europe; and field peas are varieties of _Pisum arvense_. The Everlasting Pea is _Lathyrus latifolius_, an old favourite in flower-gardens. It is said to yield an abundance of honey to bees, which are remarkably fond of it. In this country the pea has been grown from time immemorial; but its culture seems to have diminished since the more general introduction of herbage, plants, and roots. GREEN PEAS A LA FRANCAISE. 1134. INGREDIENTS.--2 quarts of green peas, 3 oz. of fresh butter, a bunch of parsley, 6 green onions, flour, a small lump of sugar, 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, a teaspoonful of flour. _Mode_.--Shell sufficient fresh-gathered peas to fill 2 quarts; put them into cold water, with the above proportion of butter, and stir them about until they are well covered with the butter; drain them in a colander, and put them in a stewpan, with the parsley and onions; dredge over them a little flour, stir the peas well, and moisten them with boiling water; boil them quickly over a large fire for 20 minutes, or until there is no liquor remaining. Dip a small lump of sugar into some water, that it may soon melt; put it with the peas, to which add 1/2 teaspoonful of salt. Take a piece of butter the size of a walnut, work it together with a teaspoonful of flour; and add this to the peas, which should be boiling when it is put in. Keep shaking the stewpan, and, when the peas are nicely thickened, dress them high in the dish, and serve. _Time_.--Altogether, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. per peck. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from June to the end of August. VARIETIES OF THE PEA.--The varieties of the Pea are numerous; but they may be divided into two classes--those grown for the ripened seed, and those grown for gathering in a green state. The culture of the latter is chiefly confined to the neighbourhoods of large towns, and may be considered as in part rather to belong to the operations of the gardener than to those of the agriculturist. The grey varieties are the early grey, the late grey, and the purple grey; to which some add the Marlborough grey and the horn grey. The white varieties grown in fields are the pearl, early Charlton, golden hotspur, the common white, or Suffolk, and other Suffolk varieties. STEWED GREEN PEAS. 1135. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of peas, 1 Lettuce, 1 onion, 2 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste, 1 egg, 1/2 teaspoonful of powdered sugar. _Mode_.--Shell the peas, and cut the onion and lettuce into slices; put these into a stewpan, with the butter, pepper, and salt, but with no more water than that which hangs round the lettuce from washing. Stew the whole very gently for rather more than 1 hour; then stir to it a well-beaten egg, and about 1/2 teaspoonful of powdered sugar. When the peas, &c., are nicely thickened, serve but, after the egg is added, do not allow them to boil. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. per peck. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from June to the end of August. [Illustration: GREEN PEA.] THE SWEET-PEA AND THE HEATH OR WOOD-PEA.--The well-known sweet-pea forms a fine covering to a trellis, or lattice-work in a flower-garden. Its gay and fragrant flowers, with its rambling habit, render it peculiarly adapted for such a purpose. The wood-pea, or heath-pea, is found in the heaths of Scotland, and the Highlanders of that country are extremely partial to them, and dry and chew them to give a greater relish to their whiskey. They also regard them as good against chest complaints, and say that by the use of them they are enabled to withstand hunger and thirst for a long time. The peas have a sweet taste, somewhat like the root of liquorice, and, when boiled, have an agreeable flavour, and are nutritive. In times of scarcity they have served as an article of food. When well boiled, a fork will pass through them; and, slightly dried, they are roasted, and in Holland and Flanders served up like chestnuts. BAKED POTATOES. 1136. INGREDIENTS.--Potatoes. [Illustration: BAKED POTATOES SERVED IN NAPKIN.] _Mode_.--Choose large potatoes, as much of a size as possible; wash them in lukewarm water, and scrub them well, for the browned skin of a baked potato is by many persons considered the better part of it. Put them into a moderate oven, and bake them for about 2 hours, turning them three or four times whilst they are cooking. Serve them in a napkin immediately they are done, as, if kept a long time in the oven, they have a shrivelled appearance. Potatoes may also be roasted before the fire, in an American oven; but when thus cooked, they must be done very slowly. Do not forget to send to table with them a piece of cold butter. _Time_.--Large potatoes, in a hot oven 1-1/2 hour to 2 hours; in a cool oven, 2 to 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 to each person. _Seasonable_ all the year, but not good just before and whilst new potatoes are in season. POTATO-SUGAR.--This sugary substance, found in the tubers of potatoes, is obtained in the form of syrup or treacle, and has not yet been crystallized. It resembles the sugar of grapes, has a very sweet taste, and may be used for making sweetmeats, and as a substitute for honey. Sixty pounds of potatoes, yielding eight pounds of dry starch, will produce seven and a half pounds of sugar. In Russia it is extensively made, as good, though of less consistency than the treacle obtained from cane-sugar. A spirit is also distilled from the tubers, which resembles brandy, but is milder, and has a flavour as if it were charged with the odour of violets or raspberries. In France this manufacture is carried on pretty extensively, and five hundred pounds of the tubers will produce twelve quarts of spirit, the pulp being given to cattle. TO BOIL POTATOES. 1137. INGREDIENTS.--10 or 12 potatoes; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Choose potatoes of an equal size, pare them, take out all the eyes and specks, and as they are peeled, throw them into cold water. Put them into a saucepan, with sufficient cold water to cover them, with salt in the above proportion, and let them boil gently until tender. Ascertain when they are done by thrusting a fork in them, and take them up the moment they feel soft through; for if they are left in the water afterwards, they become waxy or watery. Drain away the water, put the saucepan by the side of the fire, with the lid partially uncovered, to allow the steam to escape, and let the potatoes get thoroughly dry, and do not allow them to get burnt. Their superfluous moisture will evaporate, and the potatoes, if a good sort, should be perfectly mealy and dry. Potatoes vary so much in quality and size, that it is difficult to give the exact time for boiling; they should be attentively watched, and probed with a fork, to ascertain when they are cooked. Send them to table quickly, and very hot, and with an opening in the cover of the dish, that a portion of the steam may evaporate, and not fall back on the potatoes. _Time_.--Moderate-sized old potatoes, 15 to 20 minutes after the water boils; large ones, 1/2 hour to 35 minutes. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_ for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but not good just before and whilst new potatoes are in season. _Note_.--To keep potatoes hot, after draining the water from them, put a folded cloth or flannel (kept for the purpose) on the top of them, keeping the saucepan-lid partially uncovered. This will absorb the moisture, and keep them hot some time without spoiling. THE POTATO.--The potato belongs to the family of the _Solanaceae_, the greater number of which inhabit the tropics, and the remainder are distributed over the temperate regions of both hemispheres, but do not extend to the arctic and antarctic zones. The whole of the family are suspicious; a great number are narcotic, and many are deleterious. The roots partake of the properties of the plants, and are sometimes even more active. The tubercles of such as produce them, are amylaceous and nutritive, as in those of the potato. The leaves are generally narcotic; but they lose this principle in boiling, as is the case with the _Solanum nigrum_, which are used as a vegetable when cooked. TO BOIL POTATOES IN THEIR JACKETS. 1138. INGREDIENTS.--10 or 12 potatoes; to each 1/2 gallon of water, allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--To obtain this wholesome and delicious vegetable cooked in perfection, it should be boiled and sent to table with the skin on. In Ireland, where, perhaps, the cooking of potatoes is better understood than in any country, they are always served so. Wash the potatoes well, and if necessary, use a clean scrubbing-brush to remove the dirt from them; and if possible, choose the potatoes so that they may all be as nearly the same size as possible. When thoroughly cleansed, fill the saucepan half full with them, and just cover the potatoes with cold water, salted in the above proportion: they are more quickly boiled with a small quantity of water, and, besides, are more savoury than when drowned in it. Bring them to boil, then draw the pan to the side of the fire, and let them simmer gently until tender. Ascertain when they are done by probing them with a fork; then pour off the water, uncover the saucepan, and let the potatoes dry by the side of the fire, taking care not to let them burn. Peel them quickly, put them in a very hot vegetable-dish, either with or without a napkin, and serve very quickly. After potatoes are cooked, they should never be entirely covered up, as the steam, instead of escaping, falls down on them, and makes them watery and insipid. In Ireland they are usually served up with the skins on, and a small plate is placed by the side of each guest. _Time_.--Moderate-sized potatoes, with their skins on, 20 to 25 minutes after the water boils; large potatoes, 25 minutes to 3/4 hour, or longer; 5 minutes to dry them. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. Sufficient for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year, but not good just before and whilst new potatoes are in season. ANALYSIS OF THE POTATO.--Next to the cereals, the potato is the most valuable plant for the production of human food. Its tubers, according to analysis conducted by Mr. Fromberg, in the laboratory of the Agricultural Chemical Association in Scotland, contain the following ingredients:--75.52 per cent. of water, 15.72 starch, O.55 dextrine, 3.3 of impure saccharine matter, and 3.25 of fibre with coagulated albumen. In a dried state the tuber contains 64.2 per cent, of starch, 2.25 of dextrine, 13.47 of impure saccharine matter, 5.77 of caseine, gluten, and albumen, 1 of fatty matter, and 13.31 of fibre with coagulated albumen. TO BOIL NEW POTATOES. 1139. INGREDIENTS.--Potatoes; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Do not have the potatoes dug long before they are dressed, as they are never good when they have been out of the ground some time. Well wash them, rub off the skins with a coarse cloth, and put them into _boiling_ water salted in the above proportion. Let them boil until tender; try them with a fork, and when done, pour the water away from them; let them stand by the side of the fire with the lid of the saucepan partially uncovered, and when the potatoes are thoroughly dry, put them into a hot vegetable-dish, with a piece of butter the size of a walnut; pile the potatoes over this, and serve. If the potatoes are too old to have the skins rubbed off, boil them in their jackets; drain, peel, and serve them as above, with a piece of butter placed in the midst of them. _Time_.--1/4 to 1/2 hour, according to the size. _Average cost_, in full season, 1d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--Allow 3 lbs. for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in May and June, but may be had, forced, in March. POTATO STARCH.--This fecula has a beautiful white crystalline appearance, and is inodorous, soft to the touch, insoluble in cold, but readily soluble in boiling water. It is on this starch that the nutritive properties of the tubers depend. As an aliment, it is well adapted for invalids and persons of delicate constitution. It may be used in the form of arrow-root, and eaten with milk or sugar. For pastry of all kinds it is more light and easier of digestion than that made with flour of wheat. In confectionery it serves to form creams and jellies, and in cookery may be used to thicken soups and sauces. It accommodates itself to the chest and stomach of children, for whom it is well adapted; and it is an aliment that cannot be too generally used, as much on account of its wholesomeness as its cheapness, and the ease with which it is kept, which are equal, if not superior, to all the much-vaunted exotic feculae; as, salep, tapioca, sago, and arrow-root. TO STEAM POTATOES. 1140. INGREDIENTS.--Potatoes; boiling water. _Mode_.--This mode of cooking potatoes is now much in vogue, particularly where they are wanted on a large scale, it being so very convenient. Pare the potatoes, throw them into cold water as they are peeled, then put them into a steamer. Place the steamer over a saucepan of boiling water, and steam the potatoes from 20 to 40 minutes, according to the size and sort. When a fork goes easily through them, they are done; then take them up, dish, and serve very quickly. _Time_.--20 to 40 minutes. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 large potatoes to each person. _Seasonable_ all the year, but not so good whilst new potatoes are in season. USES OF THE POTATO.--Potatoes boiled and beaten along with sour milk form a sort of cheese, which is made in Saxony; and, when kept in close vessels, may be preserved for several years. It is generally supposed that the water in which potatoes are boiled is injurious; and as instances are recorded where cattle having drunk it were seriously affected, it may be well to err on the safe side, and avoid its use for any alimentary purpose. Potatoes which have been exposed to the air and become green, are very unwholesome. Cadet de Vaux asserts that potatoes will clean linen as well as soap; and it is well known that the berries of the _S. saponaceum_ are used in Peru for the same purpose. HOW TO USE COLD POTATOES. 1141. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold potatoes; to every lb. allow 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 2 ditto of minced onions, 1 oz. of butter, milk. _Mode_.--Mash the potatoes with a fork until perfectly free from lumps; stir in the other ingredients, and add sufficient milk to moisten them well; press the potatoes into a mould, and bake in a moderate oven until nicely brown, which will be in from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour. Turn them out of the mould, and serve. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. POTATO BREAD.--The manner in which this is made is very simple. The adhesive tendency of the flour of the potato acts against its being baked or kneaded without being mixed with wheaten flour or meal; it may, however, be made into cakes in the following manner:--A small wooden frame, nearly square, is laid on a pan like a frying-pan and is grooved, and so constructed that, by means of a presser or lid introduced into the groove, the cake is at once fashioned, according to the dimensions of the mould. The frame containing the farina may be almost immediately withdrawn after the mould is formed upon the pan; because, from the consistency imparted to the incipient cake by the heat, it will speedily admit of being safely handled: it must not, however, be fried too hastily. It will then eat very palatably, and might from time to time be soaked for puddings, like tapioca, or might be used like the cassada-cake, for, when well buttered and toasted, it will be found an excellent accompaniment to breakfast. In Scotland, cold boiled potatoes are frequently squeezed up and mixed with flour or oatmeal, and an excellent cake, or _scon_, obtained. FRIED POTATOES (French Fashion). 1142. INGREDIENTS.--Potatoes, hot butter or clarified dripping, salt. _Mode_.--Peel and cut the potatoes into thin slices, as nearly the same size as possible; make some butter or dripping quite hot in a frying-pan; put in the potatoes, and fry them on both sides of a nice brown. When they are crisp and done, take them up, place them on a cloth before the fire to drain the grease from them, and serve very hot, after sprinkling them with salt. These are delicious with rump-steak, and, in France, are frequently served thus as a breakfast dish. The remains of cold potatoes may also be sliced and fried by the above recipe, but the slices must be cut a little thicker. _Time_.--Sliced raw potatoes, 5 minutes; cooked potatoes, 5 minutes. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_,--6 sliced potatoes for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. A GERMAN METHOD OF COOKING POTATOES. 1143. INGREDIENTS.--8 to 10 middling-sized potatoes, 3 oz. of butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 1/2 pint of broth, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar. _Mode_.--Put the butter and flour into a stewpan; stir over the fire until the butter is of a nice brown colour, and add the broth and vinegar; peel and cut the potatoes into long thin slices, lay them in the gravy, and let them simmer gently until tender, which will be in from 10 to 15 minutes, and serve very hot. A laurel-leaf simmered with the potatoes is an improvement. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes. _Seasonable_ at any time. PRESERVING POTATOES.--In general, potatoes are stored or preserved in pits, cellars, pies, or camps; but, whatever mode is adopted, it is essential that the tubers be perfectly dry; otherwise, they will surely rot; and a few rotten potatoes will contaminate a whole mass. The pie, as it is called, consists of a trench, lined and covered with straw; the potatoes in it being piled in the shape of a house roof, to the height of about three feet. The camps are shallow pits, filled and ridged up in a similar manner, covered up with the excavated mould of the pit. In Russia and Canada, the potato is preserved in boxes, in houses or cellars, heated, when necessary, to a temperature one or two degrees above the freezing-point, by stoves. To keep potatoes for a considerable time, the best way is to place them in thin layers on a platform suspended in an ice-cellar: there, the temperature being always below that of active vegetation, they will not sprout; while, not being above one or two degrees below the freezing-point, the tubers will not be frostbitten. Another mode is to scoop out the eyes with a very small scoop, and keep the roots buried in earth; a third mode is to destroy the vital principle, by kiln-drying, steaming, or scalding; a fourth is to bury them so deep in dry soil, that no change of temperature will reach them; and thus, being without air, they will remain upwards of a year without vegetating. POTATOES A LA MAITRE D'HOTEL. 1144. INGREDIENTS.--Potatoes, salt and water; to every 6 potatoes allow 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, 2 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste, 4 tablespoonfuls of gravy, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Wash the potatoes clean, and boil them in salt and water by recipe No. 1138; when they are done, drain them, let them cool; then peel and cut the potatoes into thick slices: if these are too thin, they would break in the sauce. Put the butter into a stewpan with the pepper, salt, gravy, and parsley; mix these ingredients well together, put in the potatoes, shake them two or three times, that they may be well covered with the sauce, and, when quite hot through, squeeze in the lemon-juice, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour to boil the potatoes; 10 minutes for them to heat in the sauce. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_ for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ all the year. MASHED POTATOES. 1145. INGREDIENTS.--Potatoes; to every lb. of mashed potatoes allow 1 oz. of butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of milk, salt to taste. _Mode_.--Boil the potatoes in their skins; when done, drain them, and let them get thoroughly dry by the side of the fire; then peel them, and, as they are peeled, put them into a clean saucepan, and with a large fork beat them to a light paste; add butter, milk, and salt in the above proportion, and stir all the ingredients well over the fire. When thoroughly hot, dish them lightly, and draw the fork backwards over the potatoes to make the surface rough, and serve. When dressed in this manner, they may be browned at the top with a salamander, or before the fire. Some cooks press the potatoes into moulds, then turn them out, and brown them in the oven: this is a pretty mode of serving, but it makes them heavy. In whatever way they are sent to table, care must be taken to have them quite free from lumps. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 3/4 hour to boil the potatoes. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_,--1 lb. of mashed potatoes for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. PUREE DE POMMES DE TERRE, or, Very Thin-mashed Potatoes. 1146. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of mashed potatoes allow 1/4 pint of good broth or stock, 2 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Boil the potatoes, well drain them, and pound them smoothly in a mortar, or beat them up with a fork; add the stock or broth, and rub the potatoes through a sieve. Put the puree into a very clean saucepan with the butter; stir it well over the fire until thoroughly hot, and it will then be ready to serve. A puree should be rather thinner than mashed potatoes, and is a delicious accompaniment to delicately broiled mutton cutlets. Cream or milk may be substituted for the broth when the latter is not at hand. A casserole of potatoes, which is often used for ragoûts instead of rice, is made by mashing potatoes rather thickly, placing them on a dish, and making an opening in the centre. After having browned the potatoes in the oven, the dish should be wiped clean, and the ragout or fricassée poured in. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour to boil the potatoes; 6 or 7 minutes to warm the purée. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 lb. of cooked potatoes for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: SWEET POTATO.] VARIETIES OF THE POTATO.--These are very numerous. "They differ," says an authority, "in their leaves and bulk of haulm; in the colour of the skin of the tubers; in the colour of the interior, compared with that of the skin; in the time of ripening; in being farinaceous, glutinous, or watery; in tasting agreeably or disagreeably; in cooking readily or tediously; in the length of the subterraneous _stolones_ to which the tubers are attached; in blossoming or not blossoming; and finally, in the soil which they prefer." The earliest varieties grown in fields are,--the Early Kidney, the Nonsuch, the Early Shaw, and the Early Champion. This last is the most generally cultivated round London: it is both mealy and hardy. The sweet potato is but rarely eaten in Britain; but in America it is often served at table, and is there very highly esteemed. POTATO RISSOLES. 1147. INGREDIENTS.--Mashed potatoes, salt and pepper to taste; when liked, a very little minced parsley, egg, and bread crumbs. [Illustration: POTATO RISSOLES.] _Mode_.--Boil and mash the potatoes by recipe No. 1145; add a seasoning of pepper and salt, and, when liked, a little minced parsley. Roll the potatoes into small balls, cover them with egg and bread crumbs, and fry in hot lard for about 10 minutes; let them drain before the fire, dish them on a napkin, and serve. _Time_,--10 minutes to fry the rissoles. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The flavour of these rissoles may be very much increased by adding finely-minced tongue or ham, or even chopped onions, when these are liked. QUALITIES OF POTATOES.--In making a choice from the many varieties of potatoes which are everywhere found, the best way is to get a sample and taste them, and then fix upon the kind which best pleases your palate. The Shaw is one of the most esteemed of the early potatoes for field culture; and the Kidney and Bread-fruit are also good sorts. The Lancashire Pink is also a good potato, and is much cultivated in the neighbourhood of Liverpool. As late or long-keeping potatoes, the Tartan or Red-apple stands very high in favour. POTATO SNOW. 1148. INGREDIENTS.--Potatoes, salt, and water. _Mode_.--Choose large white potatoes, as free from spots as possible; boil them in their skins in salt and water until perfectly tender; drain and _dry them thoroughly_ by the side of the fire, and peel them. Put a hot dish before the fire, rub the potatoes through a coarse sieve on to this dish; do not touch them afterwards, or the flakes will fall, and serve as hot as possible. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour to boil the potatoes. _Average cost_, 4s. per bushel. _Sufficient_,--6 potatoes for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE POTATO AS AN ARTICLE OF HUMAN FOOD.--This valuable esculent, next to wheat, is of the greatest importance in the eye of the political economist. From no other crop that can be cultivated does the public derive so much benefit; and it has been demonstrated that an acre of potatoes will feed double the number of people that can be fed from an acre of wheat. TO DRESS SALSIFY. 1149. INGREDIENTS.--Salsify; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt, 1 oz. of butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Scrape the roots gently, so as to strip them only of their outside peel; cut them into pieces about 4 inches long, and, as they are peeled, throw them into water with which has been mixed a little lemon-juice, to prevent their discolouring. Put them into boiling water, with salt, butter, and lemon-juice in the above proportion, and let them boil rapidly until tender; try them with a fork; and, when it penetrates easily, they are done. Drain the salsify, and serve with a good white sauce or French melted butter. _Time_.--30 to 50 minutes. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Note_.--This vegetable may be also boiled, sliced, and fried in batter of a nice brown. When crisp and a good colour, they should be served with fried parsley in the centre of the dish, and a little fine salt sprinkled over the salsify. SALSIFY.--This esculent is, for the sake of its roots, cultivated in gardens. It belongs to the Composite class of flowers, which is the most extensive family in the vegetable kingdom. This family is not only one of the most natural and most uniform in structure, but there is also a great similarity existing in the properties of the plants of which it is composed. Generally speaking, all composite flowers are tonic or stimulant in their medical virtues. BOILED SEA-KALE. 1150. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. [Illustration: BOILED SEA-KALE.] _Mode_.--Well wash the kale, cut away any wormeaten pieces, and tie it into small bunches; put it into _boiling_ water, salted in the above proportion, and let it boil quickly until tender. Take it out, drain, untie the bunches, and serve with plain melted butter or white sauce, a little of which may be poured over the kale. Sea-kale may also be parboiled and stewed in good brown gravy: it will then take about 1/2 hour altogether. _Time_.--15 minutes; when liked very thoroughly done, allow an extra 5 minutes. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. per basket. _Sufficient_.--Allow 12 heads for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from February to June. [Illustration: SEA-KALE.] SEA-KALE.--This plant belongs to the Asparagus tribe, and grows on seashores, especially in the West of England, and in the neighbourhood of Dublin. Although it is now in very general use, it did not come into repute till 1794. It is easily cultivated, and is esteemed as one of the most valuable esculents indigenous to Britain. As a vegetable, it is stimulating to the appetite, easily digestible, and nutritious. It is so light that the most delicate organizations may readily eat it. The flowers form a favourite resort for bees, as their petals contain a great amount of saccharine matter. BOILED SALAD. 1151. INGREDIENTS.--2 heads of celery, 1 pint of French beans, lettuce, and endive. [Illustration: FRENCH BEANS.] [Illustration: CHERVIL.] _Mode_.--Boil the celery and beans separately until tender, and cut the celery into pieces about 2 inches long. Put these into a salad-bowl or dish; pour over either of the sauces No. 506, 507, or 508, and garnish the dish with a little lettuce finely chopped, blanched endive, or a few tufts of boiled cauliflower. This composition, if less agreeable than vegetables in their raw state, is more wholesome; for salads, however they may be compounded, when eaten uncooked, prove to some people indigestible. Tarragon, chervil, burnet, and boiled onion, may be added to the above salad with advantage, as also slices of cold meat, poultry, or fish. _Seasonable_ from July to October. ACETARIOUS VEGETABLES.--By the term Acetarious vegetables, is expressed a numerous class of plants, of various culture and habit, which are principally used as salads, pickles, and condiments. They are to be considered rather as articles of comparative luxury than as ordinary food, and are more desirable for their coolness, or their agreeable flavour, than for their nutritive powers. CAULIFLOWER.--The cauliflower is less indigestible than the cabbage; it possesses a most agreeable flavour, and is sufficiently delicate to be served at the tables of the wealthy. It is a wholesome vegetable, but should be eaten moderately, as it induces flatulence. Persons of weak constitutions and delicate stomachs should abstain from cauliflower as much as possible. They may be prepared in a variety of ways; and, in selecting them, the whitest should be chosen; those tinged with green or yellow being of indifferent quality. SUMMER SALAD. 1152. INGREDIENTS.--3 lettuces, 2 handfuls of mustard-and-cress, 10 young radishes, a few slices of cucumber. [Illustration: SALAD IN BOWL.] _Mode_.--Let the herbs be as fresh as possible for a salad, and, if at all stale or dead-looking, let them lie in water for an hour or two, which will very much refresh them. Wash and carefully pick them over, remove any decayed or wormeaten leaves, and drain them thoroughly by swinging them gently in a clean cloth. With a silver knife, cut the lettuces into small pieces, and the radishes and cucumbers into thin slices; arrange all these ingredients lightly on a dish, with the mustard-and-cress, and pour under, but not over the salad, either of the sauces No. 506, 507, or 508, and do not stir it up until it is to be eaten. It may be garnished with hard-boiled eggs, cut in slices, sliced cucumbers, nasturtiums, cut vegetable-flowers, and many other things that taste will always suggest to make a pretty and elegant dish. In making a good salad, care must be taken to have the herbs freshly gathered, and _thoroughly drained_ before the sauce is added to them, or it will be watery and thin. Young spring onions, cut small, are by many persons considered an improvement to salads; but, before these are added, the cook should always consult the taste of her employer. Slices of cold meat or poultry added to a salad make a convenient and quickly-made summer luncheon-dish; or cold fish, flaked, will also be found exceedingly nice, mixed with it. _Average cost_, 9d. for a salad for 5 or 6 persons; but more expensive when the herbs are forced. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from May to September. CUCUMBERS.--The cucumber is refreshing, but neither nutritious nor digestible, and should be excluded from the regimen of the delicate. There are various modes of preparing cucumbers. When gathered young, they are called gherkins: these, pickled, are much used in seasonings. [Illustration: CUCUMBER-SLICE.] RADISHES.--This is the common name given to the root of the _Raphanus satious_, one of the varieties of the cultivated horseradish. There are red and white radishes; and the French have also what they call violet and black ones, of which the black are the larger. Radishes are composed of nearly the same constituents as turnips, that is to say, mostly fibre and nitrogen; and, being generally eaten raw, it is on the last of these that their flavour depends. They do not agree with people, except those who are in good health, and have active digestive powers; for they are difficult of digestion, and cause flatulency and wind, and are the cause of headaches when eaten to excess. Besides being eaten raw, they are sometimes, but rarely, boiled; and they also serve as a pretty garnish for salads. In China, the radish may be found growing naturally, without cultivation; and may be occasionally met with in England as a weed, in similar places to where the wild turnip grows; it, however, thrives best in the garden, and the ground it likes best is a deep open loam, or a well-manured sandy soil. [Illustration: TURNIP RADISHES.] [Illustration: LONG RADISHES.] WINTER SALAD. 1153. INGREDIENTS.--Endive, mustard-and-cress, boiled beetroot, 3 or 4 hard-boiled eggs, celery. _Mode_.--The above ingredients form the principal constituents of a winter salad, and may be converted into a very pretty dish, by nicely contrasting the various colours, and by tastefully garnishing it. Shred the celery into thin pieces, after having carefully washed and cut away all wormeaten pieces; cleanse the endive and mustard-and-cress free from grit, and arrange these high in the centre of a salad-bowl or dish; garnish with the hard-boiled eggs and beetroot, both of which should be cut in slices; and pour into the dish, but not over the salad, either of the sauces No. 506, 507, or 508. Never dress a salad long before it is required for table, as, by standing, it loses its freshness and pretty crisp and light appearance; the sauce, however, may always be prepared a few hours beforehand, and when required for use, the herbs laid lightly over it. _Average cost_, 9d. for a salad for 5 or 6 persons. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from the end of September to March. SALADS.--Salads are raw vegetables, of which, among us, the lettuce is the most generally used; several others, however, such as cresses, celery, onions, beetroot, &c., are occasionally employed. As vegetables eaten in a raw state are apt to ferment on the stomach, and as they have very little stimulative power upon that organ, they are usually dressed with some condiments, such as pepper, vinegar, salt, mustard, and oil. Respecting the use of these, medical men disagree, especially in reference to oil, which is condemned by some and recommended by others. POTATO SALAD. 1154. INGREDIENTS.--10 or 12 cold boiled potatoes, 4 tablespoonfuls of tarragon or plain vinegar, 6 tablespoonfuls of salad-oil, pepper and salt to taste, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley. _Mode_.--Cut the potatoes into slices about 1/2 inch in thickness; put these into a salad-bowl with oil and vinegar in the above proportion; season with pepper, salt, and a teaspoonful of minced parsley; stir the salad well, that all the ingredients may be thoroughly incorporated, and it is ready to serve. This should be made two or three hours before it is wanted for table. Anchovies, olives, or pickles may be added to this salad, as also slices of cold beef, fowl, or turkey. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHICKEN SALAD.--(See No. 931.) GROUSE SALAD.--(See No. 1020.) LOBSTER SALAD.--(See No. 272.) TO BOIL SPINACH (English Mode). 1155. INGREDIENTS.--2 pailfuls of spinach, 2 heaped tablespoonfuls of salt, 1 oz. of butter, pepper to taste. [Illustration: SPINACH GARNISHED WITH CROÛTONS.] _Mode_.--Pick the spinach carefully, and see that no stalks or weeds are left amongst it; wash it in several waters, and, to prevent it being gritty, act in the following manner:--Have ready two large pans or tubs filled with water; put the spinach into one of these, and thoroughly wash it; then, _with the hands_, take out the spinach, and put it into the _other tub_ of water (by this means all the grit will be left at the bottom of the tub); wash it again, and, should it not be perfectly free from dirt, repeat the process. Put it into a very large saucepan, with about 1/2 pint of water, just sufficient to keep the spinach from burning, and the above proportion of salt. Press it down frequently with a wooden spoon, that it may be done equally; and when it has boiled for rather more than 10 minutes, or until it is perfectly tender, drain it in a colander, squeeze it quite dry, and chop it finely. Put the spinach into a clean stewpan, with the butter and a seasoning of pepper; stir the whole over the fire until quite hot; then put it on a hot dish, and garnish with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes to boil the spinach, 5 minutes to warm with the butter. _Average cost_ for the above quantity, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Spring spinach from March to July; winter spinach from November to March. _Note_.--Grated nutmeg, pounded mace, or lemon-juice may also be added to enrich the flavour; and poached eggs are also frequently served with spinach: they should be placed on the top of it, and it should be garnished with sippets of toasted bread.--See coloured plate U. VARIETIES OF SPINACH.--These comprise the Strawberry spinach, which, under that name, was wont to be grown in our flower-gardens; the Good King Harry, the Garden Oracle, the Prickly, and the Round, are the varieties commonly used. The Oracle is a hardy sort, much esteemed in France, and is a native of Tartary, introduced in 1548. The common spinach has its leaves round, and is softer and more succulent than any of the Brassica tribe. SPINACH DRESSED WITH CREAM, a la Francaise. 1156. INGREDIENTS.--2 pailfuls of spinach, 2 tablespoonfuls of salt, 2 oz. of butter, 8 tablespoonfuls of cream, 1 small teaspoonful of pounded sugar, a very little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Boil and drain the spinach as in recipe No. 1155; chop it finely, and put it into a stewpan with the butter; stir over a gentle fire, and, when the butter has dried away, add the remaining ingredients, and simmer for about 5 minutes. Previously to adding the cream, boil it first, in case it should curdle. Serve on a hot dish, and garnish either with sippets of toasted bread or leaves of puff-paste. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes to boil the spinach; 10 minutes to stew with the cream. _Average cost_ for the above quantity, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Spring spinach from March to July; winter spinach from November to March. [Illustration: SPINACH.] SPINACH.--This is a Persian plant. It has been cultivated in our gardens about two hundred years, and is the most wholesome of vegetables. It is not very nutritious, but is very easily digested. It is very light and laxative. Wonderful properties have been ascribed to spinach. It is an excellent vegetable, and very beneficial to health. Plainly dressed, it is a resource for the poor; prepared luxuriantly, it is a choice dish for the rich. SPINACH.--This vegetable belongs to a sub-order of the _Salsolaceae_, or saltworts, and is classified under the head of _Spirolobeae_, with leaves shaped like worms, and of a succulent kind. In its geographical distribution it is commonly found in extratropical and temperate regions, where they grow as weeds in waste places, and among rubbish, and in marshes by the seashore. In the tropics the order is rarely found. Many of them are used as potherbs, and some of them are emetic and vermifuge in their medicinal properties. FRENCH MODE OF DRESSING SPINACH. 1157. INGREDIENTS.--2 pailfuls of spinach, 2 tablespoonfuls of salt, 2 oz. of butter, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 8 tablespoonfuls of good gravy; when liked, a very little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Pick, wash, and boil the spinach, as in recipe No. 1155, and when quite tender, drain and squeeze it perfectly dry from the water that hangs about it. Chop it very fine, put the butter into a stewpan, and lay the spinach over that; stir it over a gentle fire, and dredge in the flour. Add the gravy, and let it boil _quickly_ for a few minutes, that it may not discolour. When the flavour of nutmeg is liked, grate some to the spinach, and when thoroughly hot, and the gravy has dried away a little, serve. Garnish the dish with sippets of toasted bread. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes to boil the spinach; 10 minutes to simmer in the gravy. _Average cost_ for the above quantity, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Spring spinach from March to July; winter spinach from October to February. _Note_.--For an entremets or second-course dish, spinach, dressed by the above recipe may be pressed into a hot mould; it should then be turned out quickly, and served very hot. BAKED TOMATOES. (_Excellent_.) 1158. INGREDIENTS.--8 or 10 tomatoes, pepper and salt to taste, 2 oz. of butter, bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Take off the stalks from the tomatoes; cut them into thick slices, and put them into a deep baking-dish; add a plentiful seasoning of pepper and salt, and butter in the above proportion; cover the whole with bread crumbs; drop over these a little clarified butter; bake in a moderate oven from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour, and serve very hot. This vegetable, dressed as above, is an exceedingly nice accompaniment to all kinds of roast meat. The tomatoes, instead of being cut in slices, may be baked whole; but they will take rather longer time to cook. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. per basket. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in August, September, and October; but may be had, forced, much earlier. [Illustration: THE TOMATO.] TOMATOES.--The Tomato is a native of tropical countries, but is now cultivated considerably both in France and England. Its skin is of a brilliant red, and its flavour, which is somewhat sour, has become of immense importance in the culinary art. It is used both fresh and preserved. When eaten fresh, it is served as an _entremets_; but its principal use is in sauce and gravy; its flavour stimulates the appetite, and is almost universally approved. The Tomato is a wholesome fruit, and digests easily. From July to September, they gather the tomatoes green in France, not breaking them away from the stalk; they are then hung, head downwards, in a dry and not too cold place; and there they ripen. HOT TOMATO SAUCE, or PUREE OF TOMATOES. (See No. 529.) [Illustration: STEWED TOMATOES.] STEWED TOMATOES. I. 1159. INGREDIENTS.--8 tomatoes, pepper and salt to taste, 2 oz. of butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar. _Mode_.--Slice the tomatoes into a _lined_ saucepan; season them with pepper and salt, and place small pieces of butter on them. Cover the lid down closely, and stew from 20 to 25 minutes, or until the tomatoes are perfectly tender; add the vinegar, stir two or three times, and serve with any kind of roast meat, with which they will be found a delicious accompaniment. _Time_.--20 to 25 minutes. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. per basket. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to October; but may be had, forced, much earlier. ANALYSIS OF THE TOMATO.--The fruit of the love-apple is the only part used as an esculent, and it has been found to contain a particular acid, a volatile oil, a brown, very fragrant extracto-resinous matter, a vegeto-mineral matter, muco-saccharine, some salts, and, in all probability, an alkaloid. The whole plant has a disagreeable odour, and its juice, subjected to the action of the fire, emits a vapour so powerful as to cause vertigo and vomiting. II. 1160. INGREDIENTS.--8 tomatoes, about 1/2 pint of good gravy, thickening of butter and flour, cayenne and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Take out the stalks of the tomatoes; put them into a wide stewpan, pour over them the above proportion of good brown gravy, and stew gently until they are tender, occasionally _carefully_ turning them, that they may be equally done. Thicken the gravy with a little butter and flour worked together on a plate; let it just boil up after the thickening is added, and serve. If it be at hand, these should be served on a silver or plated vegetable-dish. _Time_.--20 to 25 minutes, very gentle stewing. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. per basket. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in August, September, and October; but maybe had, forced, much earlier. THE TOMATO, OR LOVE-APPLE.--This vegetable is a native of Mexico and South America, but is also found in the East Indies, where it is supposed to have been introduced by the Spaniards. In this country it is much more cultivated than it formerly was; and the more the community becomes acquainted with the many agreeable forms in which the fruit can be prepared, the more widely will its cultivation be extended. For ketchup, soups, and sauces, it is equally applicable, and the unripe fruit makes one of the best pickles. TRUFFLES AU NATUREL. 1161. INGREDIENTS.--Truffles, buttered paper. _Mode_.--Select some fine truffles; cleanse them, by washing them in several waters with a brush, until not a particle of sand or grit remains on them; wrap each truffle in buttered paper, and bake in a hot oven for quite an hour; take off the paper, wipe the truffles, and serve them in a hot napkin. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_.--Not often bought in this country. _Seasonable_ from November to March. [Illustration: TRUFFLES.] THE COMMON TRUFFLE.--This is the _Tuber cibarium_ of science, and belongs to that numerous class of esculent fungi distinguished from other vegetables not only by the singularity of their forms, but by their chemical composition. Upon analysis, they are found not only to contain the usual components of the vegetable kingdom, such as carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen, but likewise a large proportion of nitrogen; from which they approach more nearly to the nature of animal flesh. It was long ago observed by Dr. Darwin, that all the mushrooms cooked at our tables, as well as those used for ketchup, possessed an animal flavour; and soup enriched by mushrooms only has sometimes been supposed to contain meat. TO DRESS TRUFFLES WITH CHAMPAGNE. 1162. INGREDIENTS.--12 fine black truffles, a few slices of fat bacon, 1 carrot, 1 turnip, 2 onions, a bunch of savoury herbs, including parsley, 1 bay-leaf, 2 cloves, 1 blade of pounded mace, 2 glasses of champagne, 1/2 pint of stock. _Mode_.--Carefully select the truffles, reject those that have a musty smell, and wash them well with a brush, in cold water only, until perfectly clean. Put the bacon into a stewpan, with the truffles and the remaining ingredients; simmer these gently for an hour, and let the whole cool in the stewpan. When to be served, rewarm them, and drain them on a clean cloth; then arrange them on a delicately white napkin, that it may contrast as strongly as possible with the truffles, and serve. The trimmings of truffles are used to flavour gravies, stock, sauces, &c.; and are an excellent addition to ragouts, made dishes of fowl, &c. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_.--Not often bought in this country. _Seasonable_ from November to March. THE TRUFFLE.--The Truffle belongs to the family of the Mushroom. It is certain that the truffle must possess, equally with other plants, organs of reproduction; yet, notwithstanding all the efforts of art and science, it has been impossible to subject it to a regular culture. Truffles grow at a considerable depth under the earth, never appearing on the surface. They are found in many parts of France: those of Périgord Magny are the most esteemed for their odour. There are three varieties of the species,--the black, the red, and the white: the latter are of little value. The red are very rare, and their use is restricted. The black has the highest repute, and its consumption is enormous. When the peasantry go to gather truffles, they take a pig with them to scent out the spot where they grow. When that is found, the pig turns up the surface with his snout, and the men then dig until they find the truffles. Good truffles are easily distinguished by their agreeable perfume; they should be light in proportion to their size, and elastic when pressed by the finger. To have them in perfection, they should be quite fresh, as their aroma is considerably diminished by any conserving process. Truffles are stimulating and beating. Weak stomachs digest them with difficulty. Some of the culinary uses to which they are subjected render them more digestible; but they should always be eaten sparingly. Their chief use is in seasoning and garnitures. In short, a professor has said, "Meats with truffles are the most distinguished dishes that opulence can offer to the epicure." The Truffle grows in clusters, some inches below the surface of the soil, and is of an irregular globular form. Those which grow wild in England are about the size of a hen's egg, and have no roots. As there is nothing to indicate the places where they are, dogs have been trained to discriminate their scent, by which they are discovered. Hogs are very fond of them, and frequently lead to their being found, from their rutting up the ground in search of them. ITALIAN MODE OF DRESSING TRUFFLES. 1163. INGREDIENTS.--10 truffles, 1/4 pint of salad-oil, pepper and salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, a very little finely-minced garlic, 2 blades of pounded mace, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--After cleansing and brushing the truffles, cut them into thin slices, and put them in a baking-dish, on a seasoning of oil, pepper, salt, parsley, garlic, and mace in the above proportion. Bake them for nearly an hour, and, just before serving, add the lemon-juice, and send them to table very hot. _Time_.--Nearly 1 hour. _Average cost_.--Not often bought in this country. _Seasonable_ from November to March. WHERE TRUFFLES ARE FOUND.--In this country, the common truffle is found on the downs of Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Kent; and they abound in dry light soils, and more especially in oak and chestnut forests. In France they are plentiful, and many are imported from the south of that country and Italy, where they are much larger and in greater perfection: they lose, however, much of their flavour by drying. Truffles have in England been tried to be propagated artificially, but without success. TRUFFLES A L'ITALIENNE. 1164. INGREDIENTS.--10 truffles, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, 1 minced shalot, salt and pepper to taste, 2 oz. of butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of good brown gravy, the juice of 1/2 lemon, cayenne to taste. _Mode_.--Wash the truffles and cut them into slices about the size of a penny-piece; put them into a sauté pan, with the parsley, shalot, salt, pepper, and 1 oz. of butter; stir them over the fire, that they may all be equally done, which will be in about 10 minutes, and drain off some of the butter; then add a little more fresh butter, 2 tablespoonfuls of good gravy, the juice of 1/2 lemon, and a little cayenne; stir over the fire until the whole is on the point of boiling, when serve. _Time_.--Altogether, 20 minutes. _Average cost_.--Not often bought in this country. _Seasonable_ from November to March. USES OF THE TRUFFLE.--Like the Morel, truffles are seldom eaten alone, but are much used in gravies, soups, and ragoûts. They are likewise dried for the winter months, and, when reduced to powder, form a useful culinary ingredient; they, however, have many virtues attributed to them which they do not possess. Their wholesomeness is, perhaps, questionable, and they should be eaten with moderation. BOILED TURNIPS. 1165. INGREDIENTS.--Turnips; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Pare the turnips, and, should they be very large, divide them into quarters; but, unless this is the case, let them be cooked whole. Put them into a saucepan of boiling water, salted in the above proportion, and let them boil gently until tender. Try them with a fork, and, when done, take them up in a colander; let them thoroughly drain, and serve. Boiled turnips are usually sent to table with boiled mutton, but are infinitely nicer when mashed than served whole: unless nice and young, they are scarcely worth the trouble of dressing plainly as above. _Time_.--Old turnips, 3/4 to 1-1/4 hour; young ones, about 18 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. per bunch. _Sufficient_.--Allow a bunch of 12 turnips for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--May be had all the year; but in spring only useful for flavouring gravies, &c. [Illustration: TURNIPS.] THE TURNIP.--This vegetable is the _Brassica Rapa_ of science, and grows wild in England, but cannot be brought exactly to resemble what it becomes in a cultivated state. It is said to have been originally introduced from Hanover, and forms an excellent culinary vegetable, much used all over Europe, where it is either eaten alone or mashed and cooked in soups and stews. They do not thrive in a hot climate; for in India they, and many more of our garden vegetables, lose their flavour and become comparatively tasteless. The Swede is the largest variety, but it is too coarse for the table. MASHED TURNIPS. 1166. INGREDIENTS.--10 or 12 large turnips; to each 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt, 2 oz. of butter, cayenne or white pepper to taste. _Mode_.--Pare the turnips, quarter them, and put them into boiling water, salted in the above proportion; boil them until tender; then drain them in a colander, and squeeze them as dry as possible by pressing them with the back of a large plate. When quite free from water, rub the turnips with a wooden spoon through the colander, and put them into a very clean saucepan; add the butter, white pepper, or cayenne, and, if necessary, a little salt. Keep stirring them over the fire until the butter is well mixed with them, and the turnips are thoroughly hot; dish, and serve. A little cream or milk added after the turnips are pressed through the colander, is an improvement to both the colour and flavour of this vegetable. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 3/4 hour to boil the turnips; 10 minutes to warm them through. _Average cost_, 4d. per bunch. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_.--May be had all the year; but in spring only good for flavouring gravies. VEGETABLES REDUCED TO PURÉE.--Persons in the flower of youth, having healthy stomachs, and leading active lives, may eat all sorts of vegetables, without inconvenience, save, of course, in excess. The digestive functions possess great energy during the period of youth: the body, to develop itself, needs nourishment. Physical exercise gives an appetite, which it is necessary to satisfy, and vegetables cannot resist the vigorous action of the gastric organs. As old proverb says, "At twenty one can digest iron." But for aged persons, the sedentary, or the delicate, it is quite otherwise. Then the gastric power has considerably diminished, the digestive organs have lost their energy, the process of digestion is consequently slower, and the least excess at table is followed by derangement of the stomach for several days. Those who generally digest vegetables with difficulty, should eat them reduced to a pulp or purée, that is to say, with their skins and tough fibres removed. Subjected to this process, vegetables which, when entire, would create flatulence and wind, are then comparatively harmless. Experience has established the rule, that nourishment is not complete without the alliance of meat with vegetables. We would also add, that the regime most favourable to health is found in variety: variety pleases the senses, monotony is disagreeable. The eye is fatigued by looking always on one object, the ear by listening to one sound, and the palate by tasting one flavour. It is the same with the stomach: consequently, variety of food is one of the essentials for securing good digestion. GERMAN MODE OF COOKING TURNIPS. 1167. INGREDIENTS.--8 large turnips, 3 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste, rather more than 1/2 pint of weak stock or broth, 1 tablespoonful of flour. _Mode_.--Make the butter hot in a stewpan, lay in the turnips, after having pared and cut them into dice, and season them with pepper and salt. Toss them over the fire for a few minutes, then add the broth, and simmer the whole gently till the turnips are tender. Brown the above proportion of flour with a little butter; add this to the turnips, let them simmer another 5 minutes, and serve. Boiled mutton is usually sent to table with this vegetable, and may be cooked with the turnips by placing it in the midst of them: the meat would then be very delicious, as, there being so little liquid with the turnips, it would almost be steamed, and consequently very tender. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. per bunch. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_.--May be had all the year. TURNIPS.--Good turnips are delicate in texture, firm, and sweet. The best sorts contain a sweet juicy mucilage, uniting with the aroma a slightly acid quality, which is completely neutralized in cooking. The turnip is prepared in a variety of ways. Ducks stuffed with turnips have been highly appreciated. It is useful in the regimen of persons afflicted with chronic visceral irritations. The turnip only creates flatulency when it is soft, porous, and stringy. It is then, consequently, bad. TURNIPS IN WHITE SAUCE. (An Entremets, or to be served with the Second Course as a Side-dish.) 1168. INGREDIENTS.--7 or 8 turnips, 1 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of white sauce, No. 538 or 539. _Mode_.--Peel and cut the turnips in the shape of pears or marbles; boil them in salt and water, to which has been added a little butter, until tender; then take them out, drain, arrange them on a dish, and pour over the white sauce made by recipe No. 538 or 539, and to which has been added a small lump of sugar. In winter, when other vegetables are scarce, this will be found a very good and pretty-looking dish: when approved, a little mustard may be added to the sauce. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to boil the turnips. _Average cost_, 4d. per bunch. _Sufficient_ for 1 side-dish. _Seasonable_ in winter. THE FRENCH NAVET.--This is a variety of the turnip; but, instead of being globular, has more the shape of the carrot. Its flavour being excellent, it is much esteemed on the Continent for soups and made dishes. Two or three of them will impart as much flavour as a dozen of the common turnips will. Accordingly, when stewed in gravy, they are greatly relished. This flavour resides in the rind, which is not cut off, but scraped. This variety was once grown in England, but now it is rarely found in our gardens, though highly deserving of a place there. It is of a yellowish-white colour, and is sometimes imported to the London market. BOILED TURNIP GREENS. 1169. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water, allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; turnip-greens. _Mode_.--Wash the greens well in two or three waters, and pick off all the decayed and dead leaves; tie them in small bunches, and put them into plenty of boiling water, salted in the above proportion. Keep them boiling quickly, with the lid of the saucepan uncovered, and when tender, pour them into a colander; let them drain, arrange them in a vegetable-dish, remove the string that the greens were tied with, and serve. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. for a dish for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ in March, April, and May. CABBAGE, TURNIP-TOPS, AND GREENS.--All the cabbage tribe, which comprises coleworts, brocoli, cauliflower, sprouts, and turnip-tops, in order to be delicate, should be dressed young, when they have a rapid growth; but, if they have stood the summer, in order to be tender, they should be allowed to have a touch of frost. The cabbage contains much vegetable albumen, and several parts sulphur and nitrate of potass. Cabbage is heavy, and a long time digesting, which has led to a belief that it is very nourishing. It is only fit food for robust and active persons; the sedentary or delicate should carefully avoid it. Cabbage may be prepared in a variety of ways: it serves as a garniture to several recherché dishes,--partridge and cabbage for example. Bacon and cabbage is a very favourite dish; but only a good stomach can digest it. BOILED VEGETABLE MARROW. 1170. INGREDIENTS.--To each 1/2 gallon of water, allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt; vegetable marrows. [Illustration: VEGETABLE MARROW ON TOAST.] _Mode_.--Have ready a saucepan of boiling water, salted in the above proportion; put in the marrows after peeling them, and boil them until quite tender. Take them up with a slice, halve, and, should they be very large, quarter them. Dish them on toast, and send to table with them a tureen of melted butter, or, in lieu of this, a small pat of salt butter. Large vegetable marrows may be preserved throughout the winter by storing them in a dry place; when wanted for use, a few slices should be cut and boiled in the same manner as above; but, when once begun, the marrow must be eaten quickly, as it keeps but a short time after it is cut. Vegetable marrows are also very delicious mashed: they should be boiled, then drained, and mashed smoothly with a wooden spoon. Heat them in a saucepan, add a seasoning of salt and pepper, and a small piece of butter, and dish with a few sippets of toasted bread placed round as a garnish. _Time_.--Young vegetable marrows 10 to 20 minutes; old ones, 1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, in full season, 1s. per dozen. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 moderate-sized marrow for each person. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September; but may be preserved all the winter. FRIED VEGETABLE MARROW. 1171. INGREDIENTS.--3 medium-sized vegetable marrows, egg and bread crumbs, hot lard. _Mode_.--Peel, and boil the marrows until tender in salt and water; then drain them and cut them in quarters, and take out the seeds. When thoroughly drained, brush the marrows over with egg, and sprinkle with bread crumbs; have ready some hot lard, fry the marrow in this, and, when of a nice brown, dish; sprinkle over a little salt and pepper, and serve. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour to boil the marrow, 7 minutes to fry it. _Average cost_, in full season, 1s. per dozen. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September. [Illustration: VEGETABLE MARROW.] THE VEGETABLE MARROW.--This vegetable is now extensively used, and belongs to the Cucurbits. It is the _C. ovifera_ of science, and, like the melon, gourd, cucumber, and squash, is widely diffused in the tropical or warmer regions of the globe. Of the nature of this family we have already spoken when treating of the cucumber. CUT VEGETABLES FOR SOUPS, &c. [Illustration: VEGETABLE-CUTTER.] 1172. The annexed engraving represents a cutter for shaping vegetables for soups, ragouts, stews, &c.; carrots and turnips being the usual vegetables for which this utensil is used. Cut the vegetables into slices about 1/4 inch in thickness, stamp them out with the cutter, and boil them for a few minutes in salt and water, until tender. Turnips should be cut in rather thicker slices than carrots, on account of the former boiling more quickly to a pulp than the latter. CARROTS.--Several species of carrots are cultivated,--the red, the yellow, and the which. Those known as the Crecy carrots are considered the best, and are very sweet. The carrot has been classed by hygienists among flatulent vegetables, and as difficult of digestion. When the root becomes old, it is almost as hard as wood; but the young carrot, which has not reached its full growth, is tender, relishing, nutritious, and digests well when properly cooked. VEGETABLE MARROWS IN WHITE SAUCE. 1173. INGREDIENTS.--4 or 5 moderate-sized marrows, 1/2 pint of white sauce, No. 539. [Illustration: VEGETABLE MARROW IN WHITE SAUCE.] _Mode_.--Pare the marrows; cut them in halves, and shape each half at the top in a point, leaving the bottom end flat for it to stand upright in the dish. Boil the marrows in salt and water until tender; take them up very carefully, and arrange them on a hot dish. Have ready 1/2 pint of white sauce, made by recipe No. 539; pour this over the marrows, and serve. _Time_.--From 15 to 20 minutes to boil the marrows. _Average cost_, in full season, 1s. per dozen. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September. BOILED INDIAN WHEAT or MAIZE. 1174. INGREDIENTS.--The ears of young and green Indian wheat; to every 1/2 gallon of water allow 1 heaped tablespoonful of salt. _Mode_.--This vegetable, which makes one of the most delicious dishes brought to table, is unfortunately very rarely seen in Britain; and we wonder that, in the gardens of the wealthy, it is not invariably cultivated. Our sun, it is true, possesses hardly power sufficient to ripen maize; but, with well-prepared ground, and in a favourable position, it might be sufficiently advanced by the beginning of autumn to serve as a vegetable. The outside sheath being taken off and the waving fibres removed, let the ears be placed in boiling water, where they should remain for about 25 minutes (a longer time may be necessary for larger ears than ordinary); and, when sufficiently boiled and well drained, they may be sent to table whole, and with a piece of toast underneath them. Melted butter should be served with them. _Time_.--25 to 35 minutes. _Average cost_.--Seldom bought. _Sufficient_,--1 ear for each person. _Seasonable_ in autumn. _Note_.--William Cobbett, the English radical writer and politician, was a great cultivator and admirer of maize, and constantly ate it as a vegetable, boiled. We believe he printed a special recipe for it, but we have been unable to lay our hands on it. Mr. Buchanan, the present president of the United States, was in the habit, when ambassador here, of receiving a supply of Indian corn from America in hermetically-sealed cases; and the publisher of this work remembers, with considerable satisfaction, his introduction to a dish of this vegetable, when in America. He found it to combine the excellences of the young green pea and the finest asparagus; but he felt at first slightly awkward in holding the large ear with one hand, whilst the other had to be employed in cutting off with a knife the delicate green grains. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVI. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON PUDDINGS AND PASTRY. 1175. PUDDINGS AND PASTRY, familiar as they may be, and unimportant as they may be held in the estimation of some, are yet intimately connected with the development of agricultural resources in reference to the cereal grasses. When they began to be made is uncertain; but we may safely presume, that a simple form of pudding was amongst the first dishes made after discovering a mode of grinding wheat into flour. Traditional history enables us to trace man back to the time of the Deluge. After that event he seems to have recovered himself in the central parts of Asia, and to have first risen to eminence in the arts of civilization on the banks of the Nile. From this region, Greece, Carthage, and some other parts along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, were colonized. In process of time, Greece gave to the Romans the arts which she had thus received from Egypt, and these subsequently diffused them over Europe. How these were carried to or developed in India and China, is not so well ascertained; and in America their ancient existence rests only on very indistinct traditions. As to who was the real discoverer of the use of corn, we have no authentic knowledge. The traditions of different countries ascribe it to various fabulous personages, whose names it is here unnecessary to introduce. In Egypt, however, corn must have grown abundantly; for Abraham, and after him Jacob, had recourse to that country for supplies during times of famine. 1176. THE HABITS OF A PEOPLE, to a great extent, are formed by the climate in which they live, and by the native or cultivated productions in which their country abounds. Thus we find that the agricultural produce of the ancient Egyptians is pretty much the same as that of the present day, and the habits of the people are not materially altered. In Greece, the products cultivated in antiquity were the same kinds of grains and legumes as are cultivated at present, with the vine, the fig, the olive, the apple, and other fruits. So with the Romans, and so with other nations. As to the different modes of artificially preparing those to please the taste, it is only necessary to say that they arise from the universal desire of novelty, characteristic of man in the development of his social conditions. Thus has arisen the whole science of cookery, and thus arose the art of making puddings. The porridge of the Scotch is nothing more than a species of hasty pudding, composed of oatmeal, salt, and water; and the "red pottage" for which Esau sold his birthright, must have been something similar. The barley-gruel of the Lacedaemonians, of the Athenian gladiators and common people, was the same, with the exception of the slight seasoning it had beyond the simplicity of Scottish fare. Here is the ancient recipe for the Athenian national dish:--"Dry near the fire, in the oven, twenty pounds of barley-flour; then parch it; add three pounds of linseed-meal, half a pound of coriander-seed, two ounces of salt, and the quantity of water necessary." To this sometimes a little millet was added, in order to give the paste greater cohesion and delicacy. 1177. OATMEAL AMONGST THE GREEKS AND ROMANS was highly esteemed, as was also rice, which they considered as beneficial to the chest. They also held in high repute the Irion, or Indian wheat of the moderns. The flour of this cereal was made into a kind of hasty pudding, and, parched or roasted, as eaten with a little salt. The Spelt, or Red wheat, was likewise esteemed, and its flour formed the basis of the Carthaginian pudding, for which we here give the scientific recipe:--"Put a pound of red-wheat flour into water, and when it has steeped some time, transfer it to a wooden bowl. Add three pounds of cream cheese, half a pound of honey, and one egg. Beat the whole together, and cook it on a slow fire in a stewpan." Should this be considered unpalatable, another form has been recommended. "Sift the flour, and, with some water, put it into a wooden vessel, and, for ten days, renew the water twice each day. At the end of that period, press out the water and place the paste in another vessel. It is now to be reduced to the consistence of thick lees, and passed through a piece of new linen. Repeat this last operation, then dry the mass in the sun and boil it in milk. Season according to taste." These are specimens of the puddings of antiquity, and this last recipe was held in especial favour by the Romans. 1178. HOWEVER GREAT MAY HAVE BEEN THE QUALIFICATIONS of the ancients, however, in the art of pudding-making, we apprehend that such preparations as gave gratification to their palates, would have generally found little favour amongst the insulated inhabitants of Great Britain. Here, from the simple suet dumpling up to the most complicated Christmas production, the grand feature of substantiality is primarily attended to. Variety in the ingredients, we think, is held only of secondary consideration with the great body of the people, provided that the whole is agreeable and of sufficient abundance. 1179. ALTHOUGH FROM PUDDINGS TO PASTRY is but a step, it requires a higher degree of art to make the one than to make the other. Indeed, pastry is one of the most important branches of the culinary science. It unceasingly occupies itself with ministering pleasure to the sight as well as to the taste; with erecting graceful monuments, miniature fortresses, and all kinds of architectural imitations, composed of the sweetest and most agreeable products of all climates and countries. At a very early period, the Orientals were acquainted with the art of manipulating in pastry; but they by no means attained to the taste, variety, and splendour of design, by which it is characterized amongst the moderns. At first it generally consisted of certain mixtures of flour, oil, and honey, to which it was confined for centuries, even among the southern nations of the European continent. At the commencement of the middle ages, a change began to take place in the art of mixing it. Eggs, butter, and salt came into repute in the making of paste, which was forthwith used as an inclosure for meat, seasoned with spices. This advance attained, the next step was to inclose cream, fruit, and marmalades; and the next, to build pyramids and castles; when the summit of the art of the pastry-cook may be supposed to have been achieved. DIRECTIONS IN CONNECTION WITH THE MAKING OF PUDDINGS AND PASTRY. 1180. A few general remarks respecting the various ingredients of which puddings and pastry are composed, may be acceptable as preliminary to the recipes in this department of Household Management. 1181. _Flour_ should be of the best quality, and perfectly dry, and sifted before being used; if in the least damp, the paste made from it will certainly be heavy. 1182. _Butter_, unless fresh is used, should be washed from the salt, and well squeezed and wrung in a cloth, to get out all the water and buttermilk, which, if left in, assists to make the paste heavy. 1183. _Lard_ should be perfectly sweet, which may be ascertained by cutting the bladder through, and, if the knife smells sweet, the lard is good. 1184. _Suet_ should be finely chopped, perfectly free from skin, and quite sweet; during the process of chopping, it should be lightly dredged with flour, which prevents the pieces from sticking together. Beef suet is considered the best; but veal suet, or the outside fat of a loin or neck of mutton, makes good crusts; as also the skimmings in which a joint of mutton has been boiled, but _without_ vegetables. 1185. _Clarified Beef Dripping_, directions for which will be found in recipes Nos. 621 and 622, answers very well for kitchen pies, puddings, cakes, or for family use. A very good short crust may be made by mixing with it a small quantity of moist sugar; but care must be taken to use the dripping sparingly, or a very disagreeable flavour will be imparted to the paste. 1186. Strict cleanliness must be observed in pastry-making; all the utensils used should be perfectly free from dust and dirt, and the things required for pastry, kept entirely for that purpose. [Illustration: PASTE-BOARD AND ROLLING-PIN.] 1187. In mixing paste, add the water very gradually, work the whole together with the knife-blade, and knead it until perfectly smooth. Those who are inexperienced in pastry-making, should work the butter in by breaking it in small pieces and covering the paste rolled out. It should then be dredged with flour, and the ends folded over and rolled out very thin again: this process must be repeated until all the butter is used. [Illustration: PASTE-PINCERS AND JAGGER, FOR ORNAMENTING THE EDGES OF PIE-CRUSTS.] 1188. The art of making paste requires much practice, dexterity, and skill: it should be touched as lightly as possible, made with cool hands and in a cool place (a marble slab is better than a board for the purpose), and the coolest part of the house should be selected for the process during warm weather. 1189. To insure rich paste being light, great expedition must be used in the making and baking; for if it stand long before it is put in the oven, it becomes flat and heavy. [Illustration: PASTE-CUTTER AND CORNER-CUTTER.] [Illustration: ORNAMENTAL-PASTE CUTTER.] 1190. _Puff-paste_ requires a brisk oven, but not too hot, or it would blacken the crust; on the other hand, if the oven be too slack, the paste will be soddened, and will not rise, nor will it have any colour. Tart-tins, cake-moulds, dishes for baked puddings, pattypans, &c., should all be buttered before the article intended to be baked is put in them: things to be baked on sheets should be placed on buttered paper. Raised-pie paste should have a soaking heat, and paste glazed must have rather a slack oven, that the icing be not scorched. It is better to ice tarts, &c. when they are three-parts baked. [Illustration: PATTY-PANS, PLAIN AND FLUTED.] [Illustration: PIE-DISH.] [Illustration: RAISED-PIE MOULD.] [Illustration: RAISED-PIE MOULD, OPEN.] 1191. To ascertain when the oven is heated to the proper degree for puff-paste, put a small piece of the paste in previous to baking the whole, and then the heat can thus be judged of. 1192. The freshness of all pudding ingredients is of much importance, as one bad article will taint the whole mixture. 1193. When the _freshness_ of eggs is _doubtful_, break each one separately in a cup, before mixing them altogether. Should there be a bad one amongst them, it can be thrown away; whereas, if mixed with the good ones, the entire quantity would be spoiled. The yolks and whites beaten separately make the articles they are put into much lighter. 1194. Raisins and dried fruits for puddings should be carefully picked, and, in many cases, stoned. Currants should be well washed, pressed in a cloth, and placed on a dish before the fire to get thoroughly dry; they should then be picked carefully over, and _every piece of grit or stone_ removed from amongst them. To plump them, some cooks pour boiling water over them, and then dry them before the fire. 1195. Batter pudding should be smoothly mixed and free from lumps. To insure this, first mix the flour with a very small proportion of milk, and add the remainder by degrees. Should the pudding be very lumpy, it may be strained through a hair sieve. 1196. _All boiled puddings_ should be put on in _boiling water_, which must not be allowed to stop simmering, and the pudding must always be covered with the water; if requisite, the saucepan should be kept filled up. [Illustration: BOILED-PUDDING MOULD.] 1197. To prevent a pudding boiled in a cloth from sticking to the bottom of the saucepan, place a small plate or saucer underneath it, and set the pan _on a trivet_ over the fire. If a mould is used, this precaution is not necessary; but care must be taken to keep the pudding well covered with water. 1198. For dishing a boiled pudding as soon as it comes out of the pot, dip it into a basin of cold water, and the cloth will then not adhere to it. Great expedition is necessary in sending puddings to table, as, by standing, they quickly become heavy, batter puddings particularly. [Illustration: BOILED-PUDDING MOULD.] 1199. For baked or boiled puddings, the moulds, cups, or basins, should be always buttered before the mixture is put in them, and they should be put into the saucepan directly they are filled. 1200. Scrupulous attention should be paid to the cleanliness of pudding-cloths, as, from neglect in this particular, the outsides of boiled puddings frequently taste very disagreeably. As soon as possible after it is taken off the pudding, it should be soaked in water, and then well washed, without soap, unless it be very greasy. It should be dried out of doors, then folded up and kept in a dry place. When wanted for use, dip it in boiling water, and dredge it slightly with flour. [Illustration: PUDDING-BASIN.] 1201. The _dry ingredients_ for puddings are better for being mixed some time before they are wanted; the liquid portion should only be added just before the pudding is put into the saucepan. 1202. A pinch of salt is an improvement to the generality of puddings; but this ingredient should be added very sparingly, as the flavour should not be detected. 1203. When baked puddings are sufficiently solid, turn them out of the dish they were baked in, bottom uppermost, and strew over them fine sifted sugar. 1204. When pastry or baked puddings are not done through, and yet the outside is sufficiently brown, cover them over with a piece of white paper until thoroughly cooked: this prevents them from getting burnt. [Illustration] RECIPES. CHAPTER XXVII. VERY GOOD PUFF-PASTE. 1205. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 1 lb. of butter, and not quite 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Carefully weigh the flour and butter, and have the exact proportion; squeeze the butter well, to extract the water from it, and afterwards wring it in a clean cloth, that no moisture may remain. Sift the flour; see that it is perfectly dry, and proceed in the following manner to make the paste, using a very _clean_ paste-board and rolling-pin:--Supposing the quantity to be 1 lb. of flour, work the whole into a smooth paste, with not quite 1/2 pint of water, using a knife to mix it with: the proportion of this latter ingredient must be regulated by the discretion of the cook; if too much be added, the paste, when baked, will be tough. Roll it out until it is of an equal thickness of about an inch; break 4 oz. of the butter into small pieces; place these on the paste, sift over it a little flour, fold it over, roll out again, and put another 4 oz. of butter. Repeat the rolling and buttering until the paste has been rolled out 4 times, or equal quantities of flour and butter have been used. Do not omit, every time the paste is rolled out, to dredge a little flour over that and the rolling-pin, to prevent both from sticking. Handle the paste as lightly as possible, and do not press heavily upon it with the rolling-pin. The next thing to be considered is the oven, as the baking of pastry requires particular attention. Do not put it into the oven until it is sufficiently hot to raise the paste; for the best-prepared paste, if not properly baked, will be good for nothing. Brushing the paste as often as rolled out, and the pieces of butter placed thereon, with the white of an egg, assists it to rise in _leaves_ or _flakes_. As this is the great beauty of puff-paste, it is as well to try this method. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. per lb. BUTTER.--About the second century of the Christian era, butter was placed by Galen amongst the useful medical agents; and about a century before him, Dioscorides mentioned that he had noticed that fresh butter, made of ewes' and goats' milk, was served at meals instead of oil, and that it took the place of fat in making pastry. Thus we have undoubted authority that, eighteen hundred years ago, there existed a knowledge of the useful qualities of butter. The Romans seem to have set about making it much as we do; for Pliny tells us, "Butter is made from milk; and the use of this element, so much sought after by barbarous nations, distinguished the rich from the common people. It is obtained principally from cows' milk; that from ewes is the fattest; goats also supply some. It is produced by agitating the milk in long vessels with narrow openings: a little water is added." MEDIUM PUFF-PASTE. 1206. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 8 oz. of butter, 4 oz. of lard, not quite 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--This paste may be made by the directions in the preceding recipe, only using less butter and substituting lard for a portion of it. Mix the flour to a smooth paste with not quite 1/2 pint of water; then roll it out 3 times, the first time covering the paste with butter, the second with lard, and the third with butter. Keep the rolling-pin and paste slightly dredged with flour, to prevent them from sticking, and it will be ready for use. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. BUTTER IN HASTE.--In his "History of Food," Soyer says that to obtain butter instantly, it is only necessary, in summer, to put new milk into a bottle, some hours after it has been taken from the cow, and shake it briskly. The clots which are thus formed should be thrown into a sieve, washed and pressed together, and they constitute the finest and most delicate butter that can possibly be made. COMMON PASTE, for Family Pies. 1207. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/4 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of butter, rather more than 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Rub the butter lightly into the flour, and mix it to a smooth paste with the water; roll it out 2 or 3 times, and it will be ready for use. This paste may be converted into an excellent short crust for sweet tart, by adding to the flour, after the butter is rubbed in, 2 tablespoonfuls of fine-sifted sugar. _Average cost_, 8d. per lb. TO KEEP BUTTER FRESH.--One of the best means to preserve butter fresh is, first to completely press out all the buttermilk, then to keep it under water, renewing the water frequently, and to remove it from the influence of heat and air, by wrapping it in a wet cloth. FRENCH PUFF-PASTE, or FEUILLETAGE. (Founded on M. Ude's Recipe.) 1208. INGREDIENTS.--Equal quantities of flour and butter--say 1 lb. of each; 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, the yolks of 2 eggs, rather more than 1/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--Weigh the flour; ascertain that it is perfectly _dry_, and sift it; squeeze all the water from the butter, and wring it in a clean cloth till there is no moisture remaining. Put the flour on the paste-board, work lightly into it 2 oz. of the butter, and then make a hole in the centre; into this well put the yolks of 2 eggs, the salt, and about 1/4 pint of water (the quantity of this latter ingredient must be regulated by the cook, as it is impossible to give the exact proportion of it); knead up the paste quickly and lightly, and, when quite smooth, roll it out square to the thickness of about 1/2 inch. Presuming that the butter is perfectly free from moisture, and _as cool_ as possible, roll it into a ball, and place this ball of butter on the paste; fold the paste over the butter all round, and secure it by wrapping it well all over. Flatten the paste by rolling it lightly with the rolling-pin until it is quite thin, but not thin enough to allow the butter to break through, and keep the board and paste dredged lightly with flour during the process of making it. This rolling gives it the _first_ turn. Now fold the paste in three, and roll out again, and, should the weather be very warm, put it in a cold place on the ground to cool between the several turns; for, unless this is particularly attended to, the paste will be spoiled. Roll out the paste again _twice_, put it by to cool, then roll it out _twice_ more, which will make 6 _turnings_ in all. Now fold the paste in two, and it will be ready for use. If properly baked and well made, this crust will be delicious, and should rise in the oven about 5 or 6 inches. The paste should be made rather firm in the first instance, as the ball of butter is liable to break through. Great attention must also be paid to keeping the butter very cool, as, if this is in a liquid and soft state, the paste will not answer at all. Should the cook be dexterous enough to succeed in making this, the paste will have a much better appearance than that made by the process of dividing the butter into 4 parts, and placing it over the rolled-out paste; but, until experience has been acquired, we recommend puff-paste made by recipe No. 1205. The above paste is used for vols-au-vent, small articles of pastry, and, in fact, everything that requires very light crust. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. per lb. WHAT TO DO WITH RANCID BUTTER.--When butter has become very rancid, it should be melted several times by a moderate heat, with or without the addition of water, and as soon as it has been well kneaded, after the cooling, in order to extract any water it may have retained, it should be put into brown freestone pots, sheltered from the contact of the air. The French often add to it, after it has been melted, a piece of toasted bread, which helps to destroy the tendency of the batter to rancidity. SOYER'S RECIPE FOR PUFF-PASTE. 1209. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow the yolk of 1 egg, the juice of 1 lemon, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, cold water, 1 lb. of fresh butter. _Mode_.--Put the flour on to the paste-board; make a hole in the centre, into which put the yolk of the egg, the lemon-juice, and salt; mix the whole with cold water (this should be iced in summer, if convenient) into a soft flexible paste, with the right hand, and handle it as little as possible; then squeeze all the buttermilk from the butter, wring it in a cloth, and roll out the paste; place the butter on this, and fold the edges of the paste over, so as to hide it; roll it out again to the thickness of 1/4 inch; fold over one third, over which again pass the rolling-pin; then fold over the other third, thus forming a square; place it with the ends, top, and bottom before you, shaking a little flour both under and over, and repeat the rolls and turns twice again, as before. Flour a baking-sheet, put the paste on this, and let it remain on ice or in some cool place for 1/2 hour; then roll twice more, turning it as before; place it again upon the ice for 1/4 hour, give it 2 more rolls, making 7 in all, and it is ready for use when required. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. per lb. VERY GOOD SHORT CRUST FOR FRUIT TARTS. 1210. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 3/4 lb. of butter, 1 tablespoonful of sifted sugar, 1/3 pint of water. _Mode_.--Rub the butter into the flour, after having ascertained that the latter is perfectly dry; add the sugar, and mix the whole into a stiff paste, with about 1/3 pint of water. Roll it out two or three times, folding the paste over each time, and it will be ready for use. _Average cost_, 1s. 1d. per lb. ANOTHER GOOD SHORT CRUST. 1211. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 8 oz. of butter, the yolks of 2 eggs, 2 oz. of sifted sugar, about 1/4 pint of milk. _Mode_.--Rub the butter into the flour, add the sugar, and mix the whole as lightly as possible to a smooth paste, with the yolks of eggs well beaten, and the milk. The proportion of the latter ingredient must be judged of by the size of the eggs: if these are large, so much will not be required, and more if the eggs are smaller. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. SUGAR AND BEETROOT.--There are two sorts of Beet,--white and red; occasionally, in the south, a yellow variety is met with. Beetroot contains twenty parts sugar. Everybody knows that the beet has competed with the sugar-cane, and a great part of the French sugar is manufactured from beet. Beetroot has a refreshing, composing, and slightly purgative quality. The young leaves, when cooked, are a substitute for spinach; they are also useful for mixing with sorrel, to lessen its acidity. The large ribs of the leaves are serviceable in various culinary preparations; the root also may be prepared in several ways, but its most general use is in salad. Some writers upon the subject have expressed their opinion that beetroot is easily digested, but those who have taken pains to carefully analyze its qualities make quite a contrary statement. Youth, of course, can digest it; but to persons of a certain age beet is very indigestible, or rather, it does not digest at all. It is not the sugary pulp which is indigestible, but its fibrous network that resists the action of the gastric organs. Thus, when the root is reduced to a puree, almost any person may eat it. FRENCH SUGAR.--It had long been thought that tropical heat was not necessary to form sugar, and, about 1740, it was discovered that many plants of the temperate zone, and amongst others the beet, contained it. Towards the beginning of the 19th century, circumstances having, in France, made sugar scarce, and consequently dear, the government caused inquiries to be instituted as to the possibility of finding a substitute for it. Accordingly, it was ascertained that sugar exists in the whole vegetable kingdom; that it is to be found in the grape, chestnut, potato; but that, far above all, the beet contains it in a large proportion. Thus the beet became an object of the most careful culture; and many experiments went to prove that in this respect the old world was independent of the new. Many manufactories came into existence in all parts of France, and the making of sugar became naturalized in that country. COMMON SHORT CRUST. 1212. INGREDIENTS.--To every pound of flour allow 2 oz. of sifted sugar, 3 oz. of butter, about 1/2 pint of boiling milk. _Mode_.--Crumble the butter into the flour as finely as possible, add the sugar, and work the whole up to a smooth paste with the boiling milk. Roll it out thin, and bake in a moderate oven. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. QUALITIES OF SUGAR.--Sugars obtained from various plants are in fact, of the same nature, and have no intrinsic difference when they have become equally purified by the same processes. Taste, crystallization, colour, weight, are absolutely identical; and the most accurate observer cannot distinguish the one from the other. BUTTER CRUST, for Boiled Puddings. 1213. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 6 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--With a knife, work the flour to a smooth paste with 1/2 pint of water; roll the crust out rather thin; place the butter over it in small pieces; dredge lightly over it some flour, and fold the paste over; repeat the rolling once more, and the crust will be ready for use. It may be enriched by adding another 2 oz. of butter; but, for ordinary purposes, the above quantity will be found quite sufficient. _Average cost_, 6d. per lb. DRIPPING CRUST, for Kitchen Puddings, Pies, &c. 1214. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 6 oz. of clarified beef dripping, 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--After having clarified the dripping, by either of the recipes No. 621 or 622, weigh it, and to every lb. of flour allow the above proportion of dripping. With a knife, work the flour into a smooth paste with the water, rolling it out 3 times, each time placing on the crust 2 oz. of the dripping, broken into small pieces. If this paste is lightly made, if good dripping is used, and _not too much_ of it, it will be found good; and by the addition of two tablespoonfuls of fine moist sugar, it may be converted into a common short crust for fruit pies. _Average cost_, 4d. per pound. WATER:--WHAT THE ANCIENTS THOUGHT OF IT.--All the nations of antiquity possessed great veneration for water: thus, the Egyptians offered prayers and homage to water, and the Nile was an especial object of their adoration; the Persians would not wash their hands; the Scythians honoured the Danube; the Greeks and Romans erected altars to the fountains and rivers; and some of the architectural embellishments executed for fountains in Greece were remarkable for their beauty and delicacy. The purity of the water was a great object of the care of the ancients; and we learn that the Athenians appointed four officers to keep watch and ward over the water in their city. These men had to keep the fountains in order and clean the reservoirs, so that the water might be preserved pure and limpid. Like officers were appointed in other Greek cities. SUET CRUST, for Pies or Puddings. 1215. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 5 or 6 oz. of beef suet, 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Free the suet from skin and shreds; chop it extremely fine, and rub it well into the flour; work the whole to a smooth paste with the above proportion of water; roll it out, and it is ready for use. This crust is quite rich enough for ordinary purposes, but when a better one is desired, use from 1/2 to 3/4 lb. of suet to every lb. of flour. Some cooks, for rich crusts, pound the suet in a mortar, with a small quantity of butter. It should then be laid on the paste in small pieces, the same as for puff-crust, and will be found exceedingly nice for hot tarts. 5 oz. of suet to every lb. of flour will make a very good crust; and even 1/4 lb. will answer very well for children, or where the crust is wanted very plain. _Average cost_, 5d. per lb. PATE BRISEE, or FRENCH CRUST, for Raised Pies. 1216. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 2 eggs, 1/3 pint of water, 6 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Spread the flour, which should be sifted and thoroughly dry, on the paste-board; make a hole in the centre, into which put the butter; work it lightly into the flour, and when quite fine, add the salt; work the whole into a smooth paste with the eggs (yolks and whites) and water, and make it very firm. Knead the paste well, and let it be rather stiff, that the sides of the pie may be easily raised, and that they do not afterwards tumble or shrink. _Average cost_, 1s. per lb. _Note_.--This paste may be very much enriched by making it with equal quantities of flour and butter; but then it is not so easily raised as when made plainer. WATER SUPPLY IN ROME.--Nothing in Italy is more extraordinary than the remains of the ancient aqueducts. At first, the Romans were contented with the water from the Tiber. Ancus Martius was the first to commence the building of aqueducts destined to convey the water of the fountain of Piconia from Tibur to Rome, a distance of some 33,000 paces. Appius Claudius continued the good work, and to him is due the completion of the celebrated Appian Way. In time, the gigantic waterways greatly multiplied, and, by the reign of Nero, there were constructed nine principal aqueducts, the pipes of which were of bricks, baked tiles, stone, lead, or wood. According to the calculation of Vigenerus, half a million hogsheads of water were conveyed into Rome every day, by upwards of 10,000 small pipes not one-third of an inch in diameter. The water was received in large closed basins, above which rose splendid monuments: these basins supplied other subterranean conduits, connected with various quarters of the city, and these conveyed water to small reservoirs furnished with taps for the exclusive use of certain streets. The water which was not drinkable ran out, by means of large pipes, into extensive inclosures, where it served to water cattle. At these places the people wished their linen; and here, too, was a supply of the necessary element in case of fire. COMMON CRUST FOR RAISED PIES. 1217. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 1/2 pint of water, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, 1-1/2 oz. of lard, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Put into a saucepan the water; when it boils, add the butter and lard; and when these are melted, make a hole in the middle of the flour; pour in the water gradually; beat it well with a wooden spoon, and be particular in not making the paste too soft. When it is well mixed, knead it with the hands until quite stiff, dredging a little flour over the paste and board, to prevent them from sticking. When it is well kneaded, place it before the fire, with a cloth covered over it, for a few minutes; it will then be more easily worked into shape. This paste does not taste so nicely as the preceding one, but is worked with greater facility, and answers just as well for raised pies, for the crust is seldom eaten. _Average cost_, 5d, per lb. LARD OR FLEAD CRUST. 1218. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 1/2 lb. of lard or flead, 1/2 pint of water, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Clear the flead free from skin, and slice it into thin flakes; rub it into the flour, add the salt, and work the whole into a smooth paste, with the above proportion of water; fold the paste over two or three times, beat it well with the rolling-pin, roll it out, and it will be ready for use. The crust made from this will be found extremely light, and may be made into cakes or tarts; it may also be very much enriched by adding more flead to the same proportion of flour. _Average cost_, 8d. per lb. NUTRITIOUS QUALITIES OF FLOUR.--The gluten of grain and the albumen of vegetable juices are identical in composition with the albumen of blood. Vegetable caseine has also the composition of animal caseine. The finest wheat flour contains more starch than the coarser; the bran of wheat is proportionably richer in gluten. Rye and rye-bread contain a substance resembling starch-gum (or dextrine, as it is called) in its properties, which is very easily converted into sugar. The starch of barley approaches in many properties to cellulose, and is, therefore, less digestible. Oats are particularly rich in plastic substances; Scotch oats are richer than those grown in England or in Germany. This kind of grain contains in its ashes, after deduction of the silica of the husks, very nearly the same ingredients as are found in the ashes of the juice of flesh. Fine American flour is one of the varieties which is richest in gluten, and is consequently one of the most nutritious. ALMOND CHEESECAKES. 1219. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of sweet almonds, 4 bitter ones, 3 eggs, 2 oz. of butter, the rind of 1/4 lemon, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 3 oz. of sugar. _Mode_.--Blanch and pound the almonds smoothly in a mortar, with a little rose- or spring-water; stir in the eggs, which should be well beaten, and the butter, which should be warmed; add the grated lemon-peel and -juice, sweeten, and stir well until the whole is thoroughly mixed. Line some pattypans with puff-paste, put in the mixture, and bake for 20 minutes, or rather less in a quick oven. _Time_.--20 minutes, or rather less. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for about 12 cheesecakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: ALMOND AND BLOSSOM.] ALMONDS.--Almonds are the fruit of the _Amygdalus commenis_, and are cultivated throughout the whole of the south of Europe, Syria, Persia, and Northern Africa; but England is mostly supplied with those which are grown in Spain and the south of France. They are distinguished into Sweet and Bitter, the produce of different varieties. Of the sweet, there are two varieties, distinguished in commerce by the names of Jordan and Valentia almonds. The former are imported from Malaga, and are longer, narrower, more pointed, and more highly esteemed than the latter, which are imported from Valentia. Bitter almonds are principally obtained from Morocco, and are exported from Mogador. ALMOND PASTE, for Second-Course Dishes. 1220. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of sweet almonds, 6 bitter ones, 1 lb. of very finely sifted sugar, the whites of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Blanch the almonds, and dry them thoroughly; put them into a mortar, and pound them well, wetting them gradually with the whites of 2 eggs. When well pounded, put them into a small preserving-pan, add the sugar, and place the pan on a small but clear fire (a hot-plate is better); keep stirring until the paste is dry, then take it out of the pan, put it between two dishes, and, when cold, make it into any shape that fancy may dictate. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. for the above quantity. _Sufficient_ for 3 small dishes of pastry. _Seasonable_ at any time. BITTER ALMONDS.--The Bitter Almond is a variety of the common almond, and is injurious to animal life, on account of the great quantity of hydrocyanic acid it contains, and is consequently seldom used in domestic economy, unless it be to give flavour to confectionery; and even then it should he used with great caution. A single drop of the essential oil of bitter almonds is sufficient to destroy a bird, and four drops have caused the death of a middle-sized dog. BAKED ALMOND PUDDING. (_Very rich_.) 1221. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of almonds, 4 bitter ditto, 1 glass of sherry, 4 eggs, the rind and juice of 1/2 lemon, 3 oz. of butter, 1 pint of cream, 2 tablespoonfuls of sugar. _Mode_.--Blanch and pound the almonds to a smooth paste with the water; mix these with the butter, which should be melted; beat up the eggs, grate the lemon-rind, and strain the juice; add these, with the cream, sugar, and wine, to the other ingredients, and stir them well together. When well mixed, put it into a pie-dish lined with puff-paste, and bake for 1/2 hour. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--To make this pudding more economically, substitute milk for the cream; but then add rather more than 1 oz. of finely grated bread. USES OF THE SWEET ALMOND.--The kernels of the sweet almond are used either in a green or ripe state, and as an article in the dessert. Into cookery, confectionery, perfumery, and medicine, they largely enter, and in domestic economy, should always be used in preference to bitter almonds. The reason for advising this, is because the kernels do not contain any hydrocyanic or prussic acid, although it is found in the leaves, flowers, and bark of the tree. When young and green, they are preserved in sugar, like green apricots. They furnish the almond-oil; and the farinaceous matter which is left after the oil is expressed, forms the _pâte d'amandes_ of perfumers. In the arts, the oil is employed for the same purposes as the olive-oil, and forms the basis of kalydor, macassar oil, Gowland's lotion, and many other articles of that kind vended by perfumers. In medicine, it is considered a nutritive, laxative, and an emollient. SMALL ALMOND PUDDINGS. 1222. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of sweet almonds, 6 bitter ones, 1/4 lb. of butter, 4 eggs, 2 tablespoonfuls of sifted sugar, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream, 1 tablespoonful of brandy. [Illustration: ALMOND PUDDINGS.] _Mode_.--Blanch and pound the almonds to a smooth paste with a spoonful of water; warm the butter, mix the almonds with this, and add the other ingredients, leaving out the whites of 2 eggs, and be particular that these are well beaten. Mix well, butter some cups, half fill them, and bake the puddings from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour. Turn them out on a dish, and serve with sweet sauce. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE HUSKS OF ALMONDS.--In the environs of Alicante, the husks of almonds are ground to a powder, and enter into the composition of common soap, the large quantity of alkaline principle they contain rendering them suitable for this purpose. It is said that in some parts of the south of France, where they are extensively grown, horses and mules are fed on the green and dry husks; but, to prevent any evil consequences arising from this practice, they are mixed with chopped straw or oats. ALMOND PUFFS. 1223. INGREDIENTS.--2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 2 oz. of butter, 2 oz. of pounded sugar, 2 oz. of sweet almonds, 4 bitter almonds. _Mode_.--Blanch and pound the almonds in a mortar to a smooth paste; melt the butter, dredge in the flour, and add the sugar and pounded almonds. Beat the mixture well, and put it into cups or very tiny jelly-pots, which should be well buttered, and bake in a moderate oven for about 20 minutes, or longer should the puffs be large. Turn them out on a dish, the bottom of the puff upper-most, and serve. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 2 or 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. AUNT NELLY'S PUDDING. 1224. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of treacle, 1/2 lb. of suet, the rind and juice of 1 lemon, a few strips of candied lemon-peel, 3 tablespoonfuls of cream, 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely; mix with it the flour, treacle, lemon-peel minced, and candied lemon-peel; add the cream, lemon-juice, and 2 well-beaten eggs; beat the pudding well, put it into a buttered basin, tie it down with a cloth, and boil from 3-1/2 to 4 hours. _Time_.--3-1/2 to 4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time, but more suitable for a winter pudding. TREACLE, OR MOLASSES.--Treacle is the uncrystallizable part of the saccharine juice drained from the Muscovado sugar, and is either naturally so or rendered uncrystallizable through some defect in the process of boiling. As it contains a large quantity of sweet or saccharine principle and is cheap, it is of great use as an article of domestic economy. Children are especially fond of it; and it is accounted wholesome. It is also useful for making beer, rum, and the very dark syrups. BAKED APPLE DUMPLINGS (a Plain Family Dish). 1225. INGREDIENTS.--6 apples, 3/4 lb.. of suet-crust No. 1215, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Pare and take out the cores of the apples without dividing them, and make 1/2 lb. of suet-crust by recipe No. 1215; roll the apples in the crust, previously sweetening them with moist sugar, and taking care to join the paste nicely. When they are formed into round balls, put them on a tin, and bake them for about 1/2 hour, or longer should the apples be very large; arrange them pyramidically on a dish, and sift over them some pounded white sugar. These may be made richer by using one of the puff-pastes instead of suet. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 3/4 hour, or longer. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March, but flavourless after the end of January. USES OF THE APPLE.--It is well known that this fruit forms a very important article of food, in the form of pies and puddings, and furnishes several delicacies, such as sauces, marmalades, and jellies, and is much esteemed as a dessert fruit. When flattened in the form of round cakes, and baked in ovens, they are called beefings; and large quantities are annually dried in the sun in America, as well as in Normandy, and stored for use during winter, when they may be stewed or made into pies. In a roasted state they are remarkably wholesome, and, it is said, strengthening to a weak stomach. In putrid and malignant fevers, when used with the juice of lemons and currants, they are considered highly efficacious. APPLE CHEESECAKES. 1226. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of apple pulp, 1/4 lb. of sifted sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter, 4 eggs, the rind and juice of 1 lemon. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and boil sufficient apples to make 1/2 lb. when cooked; add to these the sugar, the butter, which should be melted; the eggs, leaving out 2 of the whites, and take grated rind and juice of 1 lemon; stir the mixture well; line some patty-pans with puff-paste, put in the mixture, and bake about 20 minutes. _Time_.--About 20 minutes. _Average cost_, for the above quantity, with the paste, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for about 18 or 20 cheesecakes. _Seasonable_ from August to March. [Illustration: APPLE AND BLOSSOM.] THE APPLE.--The most useful of all the British fruits is the apple, which is a native of Britain, and may be found in woods and hedges, in the form of the common wild crab, of which all our best apples are merely seminal varieties, produced by culture or particular circumstances. In most temperate climates it is very extensively cultivated, and in England, both as regards variety and quantity, it is excellent and abundant. Immense supplies are also imported from the United States and from France. The apples grown in the vicinity of New York are universally admitted to be the finest of any; but unless selected and packed with great care, they are apt to spoil before reaching England. BOILED APPLE DUMPLINGS. 1227. INGREDIENTS.--6 apples, 3/4 lb. of suet-crust No. 1215, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Pare and take out the cores of the apples without dividing them; sweeten, and roll each apple in a piece of crust, made by recipe No. 1211; be particular that the paste is nicely joined; put the dumplings into floured cloths, tie them securely, and put them into boiling water. Keep them boiling from 1/2 to 3/4 hour; remove the cloths, and send them hot and quickly to table. Dumplings boiled in knitted cloths have a very pretty appearance when they come to table. The cloths should be made square, just large enough to hold one dumpling, and should be knitted in plain knitting, with _very coarse_ cotton. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour, or longer should the dumplings be very large. _Average cost_, 11/2d. each. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March, but flavourless after the end of January. LAMBSWOOL, or LAMASOOL.--This old English beverage is composed of apples mixed with ale, and seasoned with sugar and spice. It takes its name from _Lamaes abhal_, which, in ancient British, signifies the day of apple fruit, from being drunk on the apple feast in autumn. In France, a beverage, called by the Parisians _raisinée_, is made by boiling any given quantity of new wine, skimming it as often as fresh scum rises, and, when it is boiled to half its bulk, straining it. To this apples, pared and cut into quarters, are added; the whole is then allowed to simmer gently, stirring it all the time with a long wooden spoon, till the apples are thoroughly mixed with the liquor, and the whole forms a species of marmalade, which is extremely agreeable to the taste, having a slight flavour of acidity, like lemon mixed with honey. RICH BAKED APPLE PUDDING. I. 1228. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of the pulp of apples, 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, 6 oz. of butter, the rind of 1 lemon, 6 eggs, puff-paste. _Mode_.--Peel, core, and cut the apples, as for sauce; put them into a stewpan, with only just sufficient water to prevent them from burning, and let them stew until reduced to a pulp. Weigh the pulp, and to every 1/2 lb. add sifted sugar, grated lemon-rind, and 6 well-beaten eggs. Beat these ingredients well together; then melt the butter, stir it to the other things, put a border of puff-paste round the dish, and bake for rather more than 1/2 hour. The butter should not be added until the pudding is ready for the oven. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 10d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March. II. (_More Economical_.) 1229. INGREDIENTS.--12 large apples, 6 oz. of moist sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter, 4 eggs, 1 pint of bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and cut the apples, as for sauce, and boil them until reduced to a pulp; then add the butter, melted, and the eggs, which should be well whisked. Beat up the pudding for 2 or 3 minutes; butter a pie-dish; put in a layer of bread crumbs, then the apple, and then another layer of bread crumbs; flake over these a few tiny pieces of butter, and bake for about 1/2 hour. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Note_.--A very good economical pudding may be made merely with apples, boiled and sweetened, with the addition of a few strips of lemon-peel. A layer of bread crumbs should be placed above and below the apples, and the pudding baked for 1/2 hour. CONSTITUENTS OF THE APPLE.--All apples contain sugar, malic acid, or the acid of apples; mucilage, or gum; woody fibre, and water; together with some aroma, on which their peculiar flavour depends. The hard acid kinds are unwholesome if eaten raw; but by the process of cooking, a great deal of this acid is decomposed and converted into sugar. The sweet and mellow kinds form a valuable addition to the dessert. A great part of the acid juice is converted into sugar as the fruit ripens, and even after it is gathered, by natural process, termed maturation; but, when apples decay, the sugar is changed into a bitter principle, and the mucilage becomes mouldy and offensive. Old cheese has a remarkable effect in meliorating the apple when eaten; probably from the volatile alkali or ammonia of the cheese neutralizing its acid. RICH SWEET APPLE PUDDING. 1230. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, 1/2 lb. of suet, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of apples, 1/2 lb. of moist sugar, 6 eggs, 12 sweet almonds, 1/2 saltspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1 wineglassful of brandy. _Mode_.--Chop the suet very fine; wash the currants, dry them, and pick away the stalks and pieces of grit; pare, core, and chop the apple, and grate the bread into fine crumbs, and mince the almonds. Mix all these ingredients together, adding the sugar and nutmeg; beat up the eggs, omitting the whites of three; stir these to the pudding, and when all is well mixed, add the brandy, and put the pudding into a buttered mould; tie down with a cloth, put it into boiling water, and let it boil for 3 hours. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March. TO PRESERVE APPLES.--The best mode of preserving apples is to carry them at once to the fruit-room, where they should be put upon shelves, covered with white paper, after gently wiping each of the fruit. The room should be dry, and well aired, but should not admit the sun. The finer and larger kinds of fruit should not be allowed to touch each other, but should be kept separate. For this purpose, a number of shallow trays should be provided, supported by racks or stands above each other. In very cold frosty weather, means should be adopted for warming the room. BAKED APPLE PUDDING. (_Very Good_.) 1231. INGREDIENTS.--5 moderate-sized apples, 2 tablespoonfuls of finely-chopped suet, 3 eggs, 3 tablespoonfuls of flour, 1 pint of milk, a little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Mix the flour to a smooth batter with the milk; add the eggs, which should be well whisked, and put this batter into a well-buttered pie-dish. Wipe the apples clean, but do not pare them; cut them in halves, and take out the cores; lay them in the batter, rind uppermost; shake the suet on the top, over which, also grate a little nutmeg; bake in a moderate oven for an hour, and cover, when served, with sifted loaf sugar. This pudding is also very good with the apples pared, sliced, and mixed with the batter. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. BOILED APPLE PUDDING. 1232. INGREDIENTS.--Crust No. 1215, apples, sugar to taste, 1 small teaspoonful of finely-minced lemon-peel, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Make a butter-crust by recipe No. 1213, or a suet one by recipe No. 1215, using for a moderate-sized pudding from 3/4 to 1 lb. of flour, with the other ingredients in proportion. Butter a basin; line it with some of the paste; pare, core, and cut the apples into slices, and fill the basin with these; add the sugar, the lemon-peel and juice, and cover with crust; pinch the edges together, flour the cloth, place it over the pudding, tie it securely, and put it into plenty of fast-boiling water. Let it boil from 1-1/2 to 2-1/2 hours, according to the size; then turn it out of the basin and send to table quickly. Apple puddings may also be boiled in a cloth without a basin; but, when made in this way, must be served without the least delay, as the crust so soon becomes heavy. Apple pudding is a very convenient dish to have when the dinner-hour is rather uncertain, as it does not spoil by being boiled an extra hour; care, however, must be taken to keep it well covered with the water all the time, and not to allow it to stop boiling. _Time_.--From 1-1/2 to 2-1/2 hours, according to the size of the pudding and the quality of the apples. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_, made with 1 lb. of flour, for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March; but the apples become flavourless and scarce after February. APPLE TART OR PIE. 1233. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-paste No. 1205 or 1206, apples; to every lb. of unpared apples allow 2 oz. of moist sugar, 1/2 teaspoonful of finely-minced lemon-peel, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Make 1/2 lb. of puff-paste by either of the above-named recipes, place a border of it round the edge of a pie-dish, and fill it with apples pared, cored, and cut into slices; sweeten with moist sugar, add the lemon-peel and juice, and 2 or 3 tablespoonfuls of water; cover with crust, cut it evenly round close to the edge of the pie-dish, and bake in a hot oven from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, or rather longer, should the pie be very large. When it is three-parts done, take it out of the oven, put the white of an egg on a plate, and, with the blade of a knife, whisk it to a froth; brush the pie over with this, then sprinkle upon it some sifted sugar, and then a few drops of water. Put the pie back into the oven, and finish baking, and be particularly careful that it does not catch or burn, which it is very liable to do after the crust is iced. If made with a plain crust, the icing may be omitted. _Time_.--1/2 hour before the crust is iced; 10 to 15 minutes afterwards. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 lbs. of apples for a tart for 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March; but the apples become flavourless after February. _Note_.--Many things are suggested for the flavouring of apple pie; some say 2 or 3 tablespoonfuls of beer, others the same quantity of sherry, which very much improve the taste; whilst the old-fashioned addition of a few cloves is, by many persons, preferred to anything else, as also a few slices of quince. [Illustration: QUINCE.] QUINCES.--The environs of Corinth originally produced the most beautiful quinces, but the plant was subsequently introduced into Gaul with the most perfect success. The ancients preserved the fruit by placing it, with its branches and leaves, in a vessel filled with honey or sweet wine, which was reduced to half the quantity by ebullition. Quinces may be profitably cultivated in this country as a variety with other fruit-trees, and may be planted in espaliers or as standards. A very fine-flavoured marmalade may be prepared from quinces, and a small portion of quince in apple pie much improves its flavour. The French use quinces for flavouring many sauces. This fruit has the remarkable peculiarity of exhaling an agreeable odour, taken singly; but when in any quantity, or when they are stowed away in a drawer or close room, the pleasant aroma becomes an intolerable stench, although the fruit may be perfectly sound; it is therefore desirable that, as but a few quinces are required for keeping, they should be kept in a high and dry loft, and out of the way of the rooms used by the family. CREAMED APPLE TART. 1234. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-crust No. 1205 or 1206, apples; to every lb. of pared and cored apples, allow 2 oz. of moist sugar, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 1 tablespoonful of lemon-juice, 1/2 pint of boiled custard. _Mode_.--Make an apple tart by the preceding recipe, with the exception of omitting the icing. When the tart is baked, cut out the middle of the lid or crust, leaving a border all round the dish. Fill up with a nicely-made boiled custard, grate a little nutmeg over the top, and the pie is ready for table. This tart is usually eaten cold; is rather an old-fashioned dish, but, at the same time, extremely nice. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March. APPLE SNOWBALLS. 1235. INGREDIENTS.--2 teacupfuls of rice, apples, moist sugar, cloves. _Mode_.--Boil the rice in milk until three-parts done; then strain it off, and pare and core the apples without dividing them. Put a small quantity of sugar and a clove into each apple, put the rice round them, and tie each ball separately in a cloth. Boil until the apples are tender; then take them up, remove the cloths, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 hour to boil the rice separately; 1/2 to 1 hour with the apple. _Seasonable_ from August to March. APPLE TOURTE OR CAKE. (_German Recipe_.) 1236. INGREDIENTS.--10 or 12 apples, sugar to taste, the rind of 1 small lemon, 3 eggs, 1/4 pint of cream or milk, 1/4 lb. of butter, 3/4 lb. of good short crust No. 1211, 3 oz. of sweet almonds. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and cut the apples into small pieces; put sufficient moist sugar to sweeten them into a basin; add the lemon-peel, which should be finely minced, and the cream; stir these ingredients well, whisk the eggs, and melt the butter; mix altogether, add the sliced apple, and let these be well stirred into the mixture. Line a large round plate with the paste, place a narrow rim of the same round the outer edge, and lay the apples thickly in the middle. Blanch the almonds, cut them into long shreds, and strew over the top of the apples, and bake from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, taking care that the almonds do not get burnt: when done, strew some sifted sugar over the top, and serve. This tourte may be eaten either hot or cold, and is sufficient to fill 2 large-sized plates. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 2 large-sized tourtes. _Seasonable_ from August to March. APPLES.--No fruit is so universally popular as the apple. It is grown extensively for cider, but many sorts are cultivated for the table. The apple, uncooked, is less digestible than the pear; the degree of digestibility varying according to the firmness of its texture and flavour. Very wholesome and delicious jellies, marmalades, and sweetmeats are prepared from it. Entremets of apples are made in great variety. Apples, when peeled, cored, and well cooked, are a most grateful food for the dyspeptic. ALMA PUDDING. 1237. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of fresh butter, 1/2 lb. of powdered sugar, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of currants, 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a thick cream, strew in, by degrees, the sugar, and mix both these well together; then dredge the flour in gradually, add the currants, and moisten with the eggs, which should be well beaten. When all the ingredients are well stirred and mixed, butter a mould that will hold the mixture exactly, tie it down with a cloth, put the pudding into boiling water, and boil for 5 hours; when turned out, strew some powdered sugar over it, and serve. _Time_.--6 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKED APRICOT PUDDING. 1238. INGREDIENTS.--12 large apricots, 3/4 pint of bread crumbs, 1 pint of milk, 3 oz. of pounded sugar, the yolks of 4 eggs, 1 glass of sherry. _Mode_.--Make the milk boiling hot, and pour it on to the bread crumbs; when half cold, add the sugar, the well-whisked yolks of the eggs, and the sherry. Divide the apricots in half, scald them until they are soft, and break them up with a spoon, adding a few of the kernels, which should be well pounded in a mortar; then mix the fruit and other ingredients together, put a border of paste round the dish, fill with the mixture, and bake the pudding from 1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. Average cost, in full season, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in August, September, and October. APRICOT TART. 1239. INGREDIENTS.--12 or 14 apricots, sugar to taste, puff-paste or short crust. _Mode_.--Break the apricots in half, take out the stones, and put them into a pie-dish, in the centre of which place a very small cup or jar, bottom uppermost; sweeten with good moist sugar, but add no water. Line the edge of the dish with paste, put on the cover, and ornament the pie in any of the usual modes. Bake from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, according to size; and if puff-paste is used, glaze it about 10 minutes before the pie is done, and put it into the oven again to set the glaze. Short crust merely requires a little sifted sugar sprinkled over it before being sent to table. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, in full season, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in August, September, and October; green ones rather earlier. _Note_.--Green apricots make very good tarts, but they should be boiled with a little sugar and water before they are covered with the crust. APRICOTS.--The apricot is indigenous to the plains of Armenia, but is now cultivated in almost every climate, temperate or tropical. There are several varieties. The skin of this fruit has a perfumed flavour, highly esteemed. A good apricot, when perfectly ripe, is an excellent fruit. It has been somewhat condemned for its laxative qualities, but this has possibly arisen from the fruit having been eaten unripe, or in too great excess. Delicate persons should not eat the apricot uncooked, without a liberal allowance of powdered sugar. The apricot makes excellent jam and marmalade, and there are several foreign preparations of it which are considered great luxuries. BAKED OR BOILED ARROWROOT PUDDING. 1240. INGREDIENTS.--2 tablespoonfuls of arrowroot, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 1 oz. of butter, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 2 heaped tablespoonfuls of moist sugar, a little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Mix the arrowroot with as much cold milk as will make it into a smooth batter, moderately thick; put the remainder of the milk into a stewpan with the lemon-peel, and let it infuse for about 1/2 hour; when it boils, strain it gently to the batter, stirring it all the time to keep it smooth; then add the butter; beat this well in until thoroughly mixed, and sweeten with moist sugar. Put the mixture into a pie-dish, round which has been placed a border of paste, grate a little nutmeg over the top, and bake the pudding from 1 to 1-1/4 hour, in a moderate oven, or boil it the same length of time in a well-buttered basin. To enrich this pudding, stir to the other ingredients, just before it is put in the oven, 3 well-whisked eggs, and add a tablespoonful of brandy. For a nursery pudding, the addition of the latter ingredients will be found quite superfluous, as also the paste round the edge of the dish. _Time_.--1 to 1-1/4 hour, baked or boiled. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _ARROWROOT_.--In India, and in the colonies, by the process of rasping, they extract from a vegetable (_Maranta arundinacea_) a sediment nearly resembling tapioca. The grated pulp is sifted into a quantity of water, from which it is afterwards strained and dried, and the sediment thus produced is called arrowroot. Its qualities closely resemble those of tapioca. A BACHELOR'S PUDDING. 1241. INGREDIENTS.--4 oz. of grated bread, 4 oz. of currants, 4 oz. of apples, 2 oz. of sugar, 3 eggs, a few drops of essence of lemon, a little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and mince the apples very finely, sufficient, when minced, to make 4 oz.; add to these the currants, which should be well washed, the grated bread, and sugar; whisk the eggs, beat these up with the remaining ingredients, and, when all is thoroughly mixed, put the pudding into a buttered basin, tie it down with a cloth, and boil for 3 hours. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March. BAKEWELL PUDDING. (_Very Rich_.) I. 1242. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of puff-paste, 5 eggs, 6 oz. of sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1 oz. of almonds, jam. _Mode_.--Cover a dish with thin paste, and put over this a layer of any kind of jam, 1/2 inch thick; put the yolks of 5 eggs into a basin with the white of 1, and beat these well; add the sifted sugar, the butter, which should be melted, and the almonds, which should be well pounded; beat all together until well mixed, then pour it into the dish over the jam, and bake for an hour in a moderate oven. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. II. 1243. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 pint of bread crumbs, 1 pint of milk, 4 eggs, 2 oz. of sugar, 3 oz. of butter, 1 oz. of pounded almonds, jam. _Mode_.--Put the bread crumbs at the bottom of a pie-dish, then over them a layer of jam of any kind that may be preferred; mix the milk and eggs together; add the sugar, butter, and pounded almonds; beat fill well together; pour it into the dish, and bake in a moderate oven for 1 hour. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_. 1s. 3d. to 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BARONESS PUDDING. (_Author's Recipe_.) 1244. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of suet, 3/4 lb. of raisins weighed after being stoned, 3/4 lb. of flour, 1/2 pint of milk, 1/4 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Prepare the suet, by carefully freeing it from skin, and chop it finely; stone the raisins, and cut them in halves, and mix both these ingredients with the salt and flour; moisten the whole with the above proportion of milk, stir the mixture well, and tie the pudding in a floured cloth, which has been previously wrung out in boiling water. Put the pudding into a saucepan of boiling water, and let it boil, without ceasing, 4-1/2 hours. Serve merely with plain sifted sugar, a little of which may be sprinkled over the pudding. _Time_.--4-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter, when fresh fruit is not obtainable. _Note_.--This pudding the editress cannot too highly recommend. The recipe was kindly given to her family by a lady who bore the title here prefixed to it; and with all who have partaken of it, it is an especial favourite. Nothing is of greater consequence, in the above directions, than attention to the time of boiling, which should never be _less_ than that mentioned. BARBERRY TART. 1245. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of barberries allow 3/4 lb. of lump sugar; paste. [Illustration: LEAF IN PUFF-PASTE.] _Mode_.--Pick the barberries from the stalks, and put the fruit into a stone jar; place this jar in boiling water, and let it simmer very slowly until the fruit is soft; then put it into a preserving-pan with the sugar, and boil gently for 15 minutes; line a tartlet-pan with paste, bake it, and, when the paste is cold, fill with the barberries, and ornament the tart with a few baked leaves of paste, cut out, as shown in the engraving. _Time_.--1/4 hour to bake the tart. _Average cost_, 4d. per pint. _Seasonable_ in autumn. [Illustration: BARBERRY.] BARBERRIES (_Berberris vulgaris_.)--A fruit of such great acidity, that even birds refuse to eat it. In this respect, it nearly approaches the tamarind. When boiled with sugar, it makes a very agreeable preserve or jelly, according to the different modes of preparing it. Barberries are also used as a dry sweetmeat, and in sugarplums or comfits; are pickled with vinegar, and are used for various culinary purposes. They are well calculated to allay heat and thirst in persons afflicted with fevers. The berries, arranged on bunches of nice curled parsley, make an exceedingly pretty garnish for supper-dishes, particularly for white meats, like boiled fowl à la Béchamel, the three colours, scarlet, green, and white, contrasting so well, and producing a very good effect. BAKED BATTER PUDDING. 1246. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/4 pint of milk, 4 tablespoonfuls of flour, 2 oz. of butter, 4 eggs, a little salt. _Mode_.--Mix the flour with a small quantity of cold milk; make the remainder hot, and pour it on to the flour, keeping the mixture well stirred; add the butter, eggs, and salt; beat the whole well, and put the pudding into a buttered pie-dish; bake for 3/4 hour, and serve with sweet sauce, wine sauce, or stewed fruit. Baked in small cups, this makes very pretty little puddings, and should be eaten with the same accompaniments as above. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKED BATTER PUDDING, with Dried or Fresh Fruit. 1247. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/4 pint of milk, 4 tablespoonfuls of flour, 3 eggs, 2 oz. of finely-shredded suet, 1/4 lb. of currants, a pinch of salt. _Mode_.--Mix the milk, flour, and eggs to a smooth batter; add a little salt, the suet, and the currants, which should be well washed, picked, and dried; put the mixture into a buttered pie-dish, and bake in a moderate oven for 1-1/4 hour. When fresh fruits are in season, this pudding is exceedingly nice, with damsons, plums, red currants, gooseberries, or apples; when made with these, the pudding must be thickly sprinkled over with sifted sugar. Boiled batter pudding, with fruit, is made in the same manner, by putting the fruit into a buttered basin, and filling it up with batter made in the above proportion, but omitting the suet. It must be sent quickly to table, and covered plentifully with sifted sugar. _Time_.--Baked batter pudding, with fruit, 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour; boiled ditto, 1-1/2 to 1-3/4 hour, allowing that both are made with the above proportion of batter. Smaller puddings will be done enough in 3/4 or 1 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time, with dried fruits. BOILED BATTER PUDDING. 1248. INGREDIENTS.--3 eggs, 1 oz. of butter, 1 pint of milk, 3 tablespoonfuls of flour, a little salt. _Mode_.--Put the flour into a basin, and add sufficient milk to moisten it; carefully rub down all the lumps with a spoon, then pour in the remainder of the milk, and stir in the butter, which should be previously melted; keep beating the mixture, add the eggs and a pinch of salt, and when the batter is quite smooth, put it into a well-buttered basin, tie it down very tightly, and put it into boiling water; move the basin about for a few minutes after it is put into the water, to prevent the flour settling in any part, and boil for 1-1/4 hour. This pudding may also be boiled in a floured cloth that has been wetted in hot water; it will then take a few minutes less than when boiled in a basin. Send these puddings very quickly to table, and serve with sweet sauce, wine sauce, stewed fruit, or jam of any kind: when the latter is used, a little of it may be placed round the dish in small quantities, as a garnish. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour in a basin, 1 hour in a cloth. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. ORANGE BATTER PUDDING. 1249. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1 pint of milk, 1-1/4 oz. of loaf sugar, 3 tablespoonfuls of flour. _Mode_.--Make the batter with the above ingredients, put it into a well-buttered basin, tie it down with a cloth, and boil for 1 hour. As soon as it is turned out of the basin, put a small jar of orange marmalade all over the top, and send the pudding very quickly to table. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, with the marmalade, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time; but more suitable for a winter pudding. BAKED BREAD PUDDING. 1250. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of grated bread, 1 pint of milk, 4 eggs, 4 oz. of butter, 4 oz. of moist sugar, 2 oz. of candied peel, 6 bitter almonds, 1 tablespoonful of brandy. _Mode_.--Put the milk into a stewpan, with the bitter almonds; let it infuse for 1/4 hour; bring it to the boiling point; strain it on to the bread crumbs, and let these remain till cold; then add the eggs, which should be well whisked, the butter, sugar, and brandy, and beat the pudding well until all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed; line the bottom of a pie-dish with the candied peel sliced thin, put in the mixture, and bake for nearly 3/4 hour. _Time_.--Nearly 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--A few currants may be substituted for the candied peel, and will be found an excellent addition to this pudding: they should be beaten in with the mixture, and not laid at the bottom of the pie-dish. VERY PLAIN BREAD PUDDING. 1251. INGREDIENTS.--Odd pieces of crust or crumb of bread; to every quart allow 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 3 oz. of moist sugar, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1-1/4 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Break the bread into small pieces, and pour on them as much boiling water as will soak them well. Let these stand till the water is cool; then press it out, and mash the bread with a fork until it is quite free from lumps. Measure this pulp, and to every quart stir in salt, nutmeg, sugar, and currants in the above proportion; mix all well together, and put it into a well-buttered pie-dish. Smooth the surface with the back of a spoon, and place the butter in small pieces over the top; bake in a moderate oven for 1-1/2 hour, and serve very hot. Boiling milk substituted for the boiling water would very much improve this pudding. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 6d., exclusive of the bread. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BOILED BREAD PUDDING. 1252. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of milk, 3/4 pint of bread crumbs, sugar to taste, 4 eggs, 1 oz. of butter, 3 oz. of currants, 1/4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Make the milk boiling, and pour it on the bread crumbs; let these remain till cold; then add the other ingredients, taking care that the eggs are well beaten and the currants well washed, picked, and dried. Beat the pudding well, and put it into a buttered basin; tie it down tightly with a cloth, plunge it into boiling water, and boil for 1-1/4 hour; turn it out of the basin, and serve with sifted sugar. Any odd pieces or scraps of bread answer for this pudding; but they should be soaked overnight, and, when wanted for use, should have the water well squeezed from them. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BREAD.--Bread contains, in its composition, in the form of vegetable albumen and vegetable fibrine, two of the chief constituents of flesh, and, in its incombustible constituents, the salts which are indispensable for sanguification, of the same quality and in the same proportion as flesh. But flesh contains, besides these, a number of substances which are entirely wanting in vegetable food; and on these peculiar constituents of flesh depend certain effects, by which it is essentially distinguished from other articles of food. BROWN-BREAD PUDDING. 1253. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of brown-bread crumbs, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of suet, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 4 eggs, 2 tablespoonfuls of brandy, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream, grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Grate 3/4 lb. of crumbs from a stale brown loaf; add to these the currants and suet, and be particular that the latter is finely chopped. Put in the remaining ingredients; beat the pudding well for a few minutes; put it into a buttered basin or mould; tie it down tightly, and boil for nearly 4 hours. Send sweet sauce to table with it. _Time_.--Nearly 4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time; but more suitable for a winter pudding. MINIATURE BREAD PUDDINGS. 1254. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, 4 eggs, 2 oz. of butter, sugar to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of brandy, 1 teaspoonful of finely-minced lemon-peel. _Mode_.--Make the milk boiling, pour it on to the bread crumbs, and let them soak for about 1/2 hour. Beat the eggs, mix these with the bread crumbs, add the remaining ingredients, and stir well until all is thoroughly mixed. Butter some small cups; rather more than half fill them with the mixture, and bake in a moderate oven from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour, and serve with sweet sauce. A few currants may be added to these puddings: about 3 oz. will be found sufficient for the above quantity. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 small puddings. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKED BREAD-AND-BUTTER PUDDING. 1255. INGREDIENTS.--9 thin slices of bread and butter, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 4 eggs, sugar to taste, 1/4 lb. of currants, flavouring of vanilla, grated lemon-peel or nutmeg. _Mode_.--Cut 9 slices of bread and butter not very thick, and put them into a pie-dish, with currants between each layer and on the top. Sweeten and flavour the milk, either by infusing a little lemon-peel in it, or by adding a few drops of essence of vanilla; well whisk the eggs, and stir these to the milk. _Strain_ this over the bread and butter, and bake in a moderate oven for 1 hour, or rather longer. This pudding may be very much enriched by adding cream, candied peel, or more eggs than stated above. It should not be turned out, but sent to table in the pie-dish, and is better for being made about 2 hours before it is baked. _Time_.--1 hour, or rather longer. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BUTTER.--Butter is indispensable in almost all culinary preparations. Good fresh butter, used in moderation, is easily digested; it is softening, nutritious, and fattening, and is far more easily digested than any other of the oleaginous substances sometimes used in its place. CABINET or CHANCELLOR'S PUDDING. 1256. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 oz. of candied peel, 4 oz. of currants, 4 dozen sultanas, a few slices of Savoy cake, sponge cake, a French roll, 4 eggs, 1 pint of milk, grated lemon-rind, 1/4 nutmeg, 3 table-spoonfuls of sugar. [Illustration: CABINET PUDDING.] _Mode_.--Melt some butter to a paste, and with it, well grease the mould or basin in which the pudding is to be boiled, taking care that it is buttered in every part. Cut the peel into thin slices, and place these in a fanciful device at the bottom of the mould, and fill in the spaces between with currants and sultanas; then add a few slices of sponge cake or French roll; drop a few drops of melted butter on these, and between each layer sprinkle a few currants. Proceed in this manner until the mould is nearly full; then flavour the milk with nutmeg and grated lemon-rind; add the sugar, and stir to this the eggs, which should be well beaten. Beat this mixture for a few minutes; then strain it into the mould, which should be quite full; tie a piece of buttered paper over it, and let it stand for 2 hours; then tie it down with a cloth, put it into boiling water, and let it boil slowly for 1 hour. In taking it up, let it stand for a minute or two before the cloth is removed; then quickly turn it out of the mould or basin, and serve with sweet sauce separately. The flavouring of this pudding may be varied by substituting for the lemon-rind essence of vanilla or bitter almonds; and it may be made much richer by using cream; but this is not at all necessary. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. A PLAIN CABINET or BOILED BREAD-AND-BUTTER PUDDING. 1257. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of raisins, a few thin slices of bread and butter, 3 eggs, 1 pint of milk, sugar to taste, 1/4 nutmeg. _Mode_.--Butter a pudding-basin, and line the inside with a layer of raisins that have been previously stoned; then nearly fill the basin with slices of bread and butter with the crust cut off, and, in another basin, beat the eggs; add to them the milk, sugar, and grated nutmeg; mix all well together, and pour the whole on to the bread and butter; let it stand 1/2 hour, then tie a floured cloth over it; boil for 1 hour, and serve with sweet sauce. Care must be taken that the basin is quite full before the cloth is tied over. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. CANARY PUDDING. 1258. INGREDIENTS.--The weight of 3 eggs in sugar and butter, the weight of 2 eggs in flour, the rind of 1 small lemon, 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Melt the butter to a liquid state, but do not allow it to oil; stir to this the sugar and finely-minced lemon-peel, and gradually dredge in the flour, keeping the mixture well stirred; whisk the eggs; add these to the pudding; beat all the ingredients until thoroughly blended, and put them into a buttered mould or basin; boil for 2 hours, and serve with sweet sauce. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKED OR BOILED CARROT PUDDING. 1259. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, 4 oz. of suet, 1/4 lb. of stoned raisins, 3/4 lb. of carrot, 1/4 lb. of currants, 3 oz. of sugar, 3 eggs, milk, 1/4 nutmeg. _Mode_.--Boil the carrots until tender enough to mash to a pulp; add the remaining ingredients, and moisten with sufficient milk to make the pudding of the consistency of thick batter. If to be boiled, put the mixture into a buttered basin, tie it down with a cloth, and boil for 2-1/2 hours: if to be baked, put it into a pie-dish, and bake for nearly an hour; turn it out of the dish, strew sifted sugar over it, and serve. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours to boil; 1 hour to bake. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. CARROTS, says Liebig, contain the same kind of sugar as the juice of the sugar-cane. ROYAL COBURG PUDDING. 1260. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of new milk, 6 oz. of flour, 6 oz. of sugar, 6 oz. of butter, 6 oz. of currants, 6 eggs, brandy and grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Mix the flour to a smooth batter with the milk, add the remaining ingredients _gradually_, and when well mixed, put it into four basins or moulds half full; bake for 3/4 hour, turn the puddings out on a dish, and serve with wine sauce. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHERRY TART. 1261. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of cherries, 2 small tablespoonfuls of moist sugar, 1/2 lb. of short crust, No. 1210 or 1211. _Mode_.--Pick the stalks from the cherries, put them, with the sugar, into a _deep_ pie-dish just capable of holding them, with a small cup placed upside down in the midst of them. Make a short crust with 1/2 lb. of flour, by either of the recipes 1210 or 1211; lay a border round the edge of the dish; put on the cover, and ornament the edges; bake in a brisk oven from 1/2 hour to 40 minutes; strew finely-sifted sugar over, and serve hot or cold, although the latter is the more usual mode. It is more economical to make two or three tarts at one time, as the trimmings from one tart answer for lining the edges of the dish for another, and so much paste is not required as when they are made singly. Unless for family use, never make fruit pies in very _large_ dishes; select them, however, as deep as possible. _Time_.--1/2 hour to 40 minutes. _Average cost_, in full season, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August. _Note_.--A few currants added to the cherries will be found to impart a nice piquant taste to them. [Illustration: CHERRY.] CHERRIES.--According to Lucullus, the cherry-tree was known in Asia in the year of Rome 680. Seventy different species of cherries, wild and cultivated, exist, which are distinguishable from each other by the difference of their form, size, and colour. The French distil from cherries a liqueur Darned _kirsch-waser_ (_eau de cérises_); the Italians prepare, from a cherry called marusca, the liqueur named _marasquin_, sweeter and more agreeable than the former. The most wholesome cherries have a tender and delicate skin; those with a hard skin should be very carefully masticated. Sweetmeats, syrups, tarts, entremets, &c., of cherries, are universally approved. COLD PUDDING. 1262. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1 pint of milk, sugar to taste, a little grated lemon-rind, 2 oz. of raisins, 4 tablespoonfuls of marmalade, a few slices of sponge cake. _Mode_.--Sweeten the milk with lump sugar, add a little grated lemon-rind, and stir to this the eggs, which should be well whisked; line a buttered mould with the raisins, stoned and cut in half; spread the slices of cake with the marmalade, and place them in the mould; then pour in the custard, tie the pudding down with paper and a cloth, and boil gently for 1 hour: when cold, turn it out, and serve. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 1d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. COLLEGE PUDDINGS. 1263. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of bread crumbs, 6 oz. of finely-chopped suet, 1/4 lb. of currants, a few thin slices of candied peel, 3 oz. of sugar, 1/4 nutmeg, 3 eggs, 4 tablespoonfuls of brandy. _Mode_.--Put the bread crumbs into a basin; add the suet, currants, candied peel, sugar, and nutmeg, grated, and stir these ingredients until they are thoroughly mixed. Beat up the eggs, moisten the pudding with these, and put in the brandy; beat well for a few minutes, then form the mixture into round balls or egg-shaped pieces; fry these in hot butter or lard, letting them stew in it until thoroughly done, and turn them two or three times, till of a fine light brown; drain them on a piece of blotting-paper before the fire; dish, and serve with wine sauce. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 puddings. _Seasonable_ at any time. CURRANT DUMPLINGS. 1264. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 6 oz. of suet, 1/2 lb. of currants, rather more than 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely, mix it with the flour, and add the currants, which should be nicely washed, picked, and dried; mix the whole to a limp paste with the water (if wanted very nice, use milk); divide it into 7 or 8 dumplings; tie them in cloths, and boil for 1-1/4 hour. They may be boiled without a cloth: they should then be made into round balls, and dropped into boiling water, and should be moved about at first, to prevent them from sticking to the bottom of the saucepan. Serve with a cut lemon, cold butter, and sifted sugar. _Time_.--In a cloth, 1-1/4 hour; without, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 9 d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: ZANTE CURRANTS.] ZANTE CURRANTS.--The dried fruit which goes by the name of currants in grocers' shops is not a currant really, but a small kind of grape, chiefly cultivated in the Morea and the Ionian Islands, Corfu, Zante, &c. Those of Zante are cultivated in an immense plain, under the shelter of mountains, on the shore of the island, where the sun has great power, and brings them to maturity. When gathered and dried by the sun and air, on mats, they are conveyed to magazines, heaped together, and left to cake, until ready for shipping. They are then dug out by iron crowbars, trodden into casks, and exported. The fertile vale of "Zante the woody" produces about 9,000,000 lbs. of currants annually. In cakes and puddings this delicious little grape is most extensively used; in fact, we could not make a plum pudding without the currant. BOILED CURRANT PUDDING. (_Plain and Economical_.) 1265. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of suet, 1/2 lb. of currants, milk. _Mode_.--Wash the currants, dry them thoroughly, and pick away any stalks or grit; chop the suet finely; mix all the ingredients together, and moisten with sufficient milk to make the pudding into a stiff batter; tie it up in a floured cloth, put it into boiling water, and boil for 3-1/2 hours; serve with a cut lemon, cold butter, and sifted sugar. _Time_.--3-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BLACK or RED CURRANT PUDDING. 1266. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of red or black currants, measured with the stalks, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, suet crust No. 1215, or butter crust No. 1213. _Mode_.--Make, with 3/4 lb. of flour, either a suet crust or butter crust (the former is usually made); butter a basin, and line it with part of the crust; put in the currants, which should be stripped from the stalks, and sprinkle the sugar over them; put the cover of the pudding on; make the edges very secure, that the juice does not escape; tie it down with a floured cloth, put it into boiling water, and boil from 2-1/2 to 3 hours. Boiled without a basin, allow 1/2 hour less. We have allowed rather a large proportion of sugar; but we find fruit puddings are so much more juicy and palatable when _well sweetened_ before they are boiled, besides being more economical. A few raspberries added to red-currant pudding are a very nice addition: about 1/2 pint would be sufficient for the above quantity of fruit. Fruit puddings are very delicious if, when they are turned out of the basin, the crust is browned with a salamander, or put into a very hot oven for a few minutes to colour it: this makes it crisp on the surface. _Time_.--2-1/2 to 3 hours; without a basin, 2 to 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, in full season, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August. [Illustration: CURRANTS.] CURRANTS.--The utility of currants, red, black, or white, has long been established in domestic economy. The juice of the red species, if boiled with an equal weight of loaf sugar, forms an agreeable substance called _currant jelly_, much employed in sauces, and very valuable in the cure of sore throats and colds. The French mix it with sugar and water, and thus form an agreeable beverage. The juice of currants is a valuable remedy in obstructions of the bowels; and, in febrile complaints, it is useful on account of its readily quenching thirst, and for its cooling effect on the stomach. White and flesh-coloured currants have, with the exception of the fullness of flavour, in every respect, the same qualities as the red species. Both white and red currants are pleasant additions to the dessert, but the black variety is mostly used for culinary and medicinal purposes, especially in the form of jelly for quinsies. The leaves of the black currant make a pleasant tea. RED-CURRANT AND RASPBERRY TART. 1267. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of picked currants, 1/2 pint of raspberries, 3 heaped tablespoonfuls of moist sugar, 1/2 lb. of short crust. _Mode_.--Strip the currants from the stalks, and put them into a deep pie-dish, with a small cup placed in the midst, bottom upwards; add the raspberries and sugar; place a border of paste round the edge of the dish, cover with crust, ornament the edges, and bake from 1/2 to 3/4 hour: strew some sifted sugar over before being sent to table. This tart is more generally served cold than hot. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August. [Illustration: RASPBERRY.] RASPBERRIES.--There are two sorts of raspberries, the red and the white. Both the scent and flavour of this fruit are very refreshing, and the berry itself is exceedingly wholesome, and invaluable to people of a nervous or bilious temperament. We are not aware, however, of its being cultivated with the same amount of care which is bestowed upon some other of the berry tribe, although it is far from improbable that a more careful cultivation would not be repaid by a considerable improvement in the size and flavour of the berry; neither, as an eating fruit, is it so universally esteemed as the strawberry, with whose lusciousness and peculiarly agreeable flavour it can bear no comparison. In Scotland, it is found in large quantities, growing wild, and is eagerly sought after, in the woods, by children. Its juice is rich and abundant, and to many, extremely agreeable. BAKED CUSTARD PUDDING. 1268. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of milk, the rind of 1/4 lemon, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Put the milk into a saucepan with the sugar and lemon-rind, and let this infuse for about 4 hour, or until the milk is well flavoured; whisk the eggs, yolks and whites; pour the milk to them, stirring all the while; then have ready a pie-dish, lined at the edge with paste ready baked; strain the custard into the dish, grate a little nutmeg over the top, and bake in a _very slow_ oven for about 1/2 hour, or rather longer. The flavour of this pudding may be varied by substituting bitter almonds for the lemon-rind; and it may be very much enriched by using half cream and half milk, and doubling the quantity of eggs. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--This pudding is usually served cold with fruit tarts. BOILED CUSTARD PUDDING. 1269. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 4 eggs, flavouring to taste. _Mode_.--Flavour the milk by infusing in it a little lemon-rind or cinnamon; whisk the eggs, stir the flour gradually to these, and pour over them the milk, and stir the mixture well. Butter a basin that will exactly hold it; put in the custard, and tie a floured cloth over; plunge it into boiling water, and turn it about for a few minutes, to prevent the flour from settling in one part. Boil it slowly for 1/2 hour; turn it out of the basin, and serve. The pudding may be garnished with red-currant jelly, and sweet sauce may be sent to table with it. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. DAMSON TART. 1270. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/4 pint of damsons, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 1/2 lb. of short or puff crust. _Mode_.--Put the damsons, with the sugar between them, into a deep pie-dish, in the midst of which, place a small cup or jar turned upside down; pile the fruit high in the middle, line the edges of the dish with short or puff crust, whichever may be preferred; put on the cover, ornament the edges, and bake from 1/2 to 3/4 hour in a good oven. If puff-crust is used, about 10 minutes before the pie is done, take it out of the oven, brush it over with the white of an egg beaten to a froth with the blade of a knife; strew some sifted sugar over, and a few drops of water, and put the tart back to finish baking: with short crust, a little plain sifted sugar, sprinkled over, is all that will be required. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in September and October. [Illustration: DAMSONS.] DAMSONS.--Whether for jam, jelly, pie, pudding, water, ice, wine, dried fruit or preserved, the damson, or _damascene_ (for it was originally brought from Damascus, whence its name), is invaluable. It combines sugary and acid qualities in happy proportions, when full ripe. It is a fruit easily cultivated; and, if budded nine inches from the ground on vigorous stocks, it will grow several feet high in the first year, and make fine standards the year following. Amongst the list of the best sorts of baking plums, the damson stands first, not only on account of the abundance of its juice, but also on account of its soon softening. Because of the roughness of its flavour, it requires a large quantity of sugar. DAMSON PUDDING. 1271. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of damsons, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 3/4 lb. of suet or butter crust. _Mode_.--Make a suet crust with 3/4 lb. of flour by recipe No. 1215; line a buttered pudding-basin with a portion of it; fill the basin with the damsons, sweeten them, and put on the lid; pinch the edges of the crust together, that the juice does not escape; tie over a floured cloth, put the pudding into boiling water, and boil from 2-1/2 to 3 hours. _Time_.--2-1/2 to 3 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ in September and October. DELHI PUDDING. 1272. INGREDIENTS.--4 large apples, a little grated nutmeg, 1 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, 2 large tablespoonfuls of sugar, 6 oz. of currants, 3/4 lb. of suet crust No. 1215. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and cut the apples into slices; put them into a saucepan, with the nutmeg, lemon-peel, and sugar; stir them over the fire until soft; then have ready the above proportion of crust, roll it out thin, spread the apples over the paste, sprinkle over the currants, roll the pudding up, closing the ends properly, tie it in a floured cloth, and boil for 2 hours. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from August to March. EMPRESS PUDDING. 1273. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of rice, 2 oz. of butter, 3 eggs, jam, sufficient milk to soften the rice. _Mode_.--Boil the rice in the milk until very soft; then add the butter boil it for a few minutes after the latter ingredient is put in, and set it by to cool. Well beat the eggs, stir these in, and line a dish with puff-paste; put over this a layer of rice, then a thin layer of any kind of jam, then another layer of rice, and proceed in this manner until the dish is full; and bake in a moderate oven for 3/4 hour. This pudding may be eaten hot or cold; if the latter, it will be much improved by having a boiled custard poured over it. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. EXETER PUDDING. (_Very rich_.) 1274. INGREDIENTS.--10 oz. of bread crumbs, 4 oz. of sago, 7 oz. of finely-chopped suet, 6 oz. of moist sugar, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 1/4 pint of rum, 7 eggs, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, 4 small sponge cakes, 2 oz. of ratafias, 1/2 lb. of jam. _Mode_.--Put the bread crumbs into a basin with the sago, suet, sugar, minced lemon-peel, rum, and 4 eggs; stir these ingredients well together, then add 3 more eggs and the cream, and let the mixture be well beaten. Then butter a mould, strew in a few bread crumbs, and cover the bottom with a layer of ratafias; then put in a layer of the mixture, then a layer of sliced sponge cake spread thickly with any kind of jam; then add some ratafias, then some of the mixture and sponge cake, and so on until the mould is full, taking care that a layer of the mixture is on the top of the pudding. Bake in a good oven from 3/4 to 1 hour, and serve with the following sauce:--Put 3 tablespoonfuls of black-currant jelly into a stewpan, add 2 glasses of sherry, and, when warm, turn the pudding out of the mould, pour the sauce over it, and serve hot. _Time_.--From 1 to 1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. FIG PUDDING. I. 1275. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of figs, 1 lb. of suet, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, 2 eggs, milk. _Mode_.--Cut the figs into small pieces, grate the bread finely, and chop the suet very small; mix these well together, add the flour, the eggs, which should be well beaten, and sufficient milk to form the whole into a stiff paste; butter a mould or basin, press the pudding into it very closely, tie it down with a cloth, and boil for 3 hours, or rather longer; turn it out of the mould, and serve with melted butter, wine-sauce, or cream. _Time_.--3 hours, or longer. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for a winter pudding. II. (_Staffordshire Recipe_.) 1276. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of figs, 6 oz. of suet, 3/4 lb. of flour, milk. _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely, mix with it the flour, and make these into a smooth paste with milk; roll it out to the thickness of about 1/2 inch, cut the figs in small pieces, and strew them over the paste; roll it up, make the ends secure, tie the pudding in a cloth, and boil it from 1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 1d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. FOLKESTONE PUDDING-PIES. 1277. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 3 oz. of ground rice, 3 oz. of butter, 1/4 lb. of sugar, flavouring of lemon-peel or bay-leaf, 6 eggs, puff-paste, currants. _Mode_.--Infuse 2 laurel or bay leaves, or the rind of 1/2 lemon, in the milk, and when it is well flavoured, strain it, and add the rice; boil these for 1/4 hour, stirring all the time; then take them off the fire, stir in the butter, sugar, and eggs, and let these latter be well beaten before they are added to the other ingredients; when nearly cold, line some patty-pans with puff-paste, fill with the custard, strew over each a few currants, and bake from 20 to 25 minutes in a moderate oven. _Time_.--20 to 25 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 1d. _Sufficient_ to fill a dozen patty-pans. _Seasonable_ at any time. FRUIT TURNOVERS (suitable for Pic-Nics). 1278. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-paste No. 1206, any kind of fruit, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Make some puff-paste by recipe No. 1206; roll it out to the thickness of about 1/4 inch, and cut it out in pieces of a circular form; pile the fruit on half of the paste, sprinkle over some sugar, wet the edges and turn the paste over. Press the edges together, ornament them, and brush the turnovers over with the white of an egg; sprinkle over sifted sugar, and bake on tins, in a brisk oven, for about 20 minutes. Instead of putting the fruit in raw, it may be boiled down with a little sugar first, and then inclosed in the crust; or jam, of any kind, may be substituted for fresh fruit. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Sufficient_--1/2 lb. of puff-paste will make a dozen turnovers. _Seasonable_ at any time. GERMAN PUDDING. 1279. INGREDIENTS.--2 teaspoonfuls of flour, 1 teaspoonful of arrowroot, 1 pint of milk, 2 oz. of butter, sugar to taste, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 4 eggs, 3 tablespoonfuls of brandy. _Mode_.--Boil the milk with the lemon-rind until well flavoured; then strain it, and mix with it the flour, arrowroot, butter, and sugar. Boil these ingredients for a few minutes, keeping them well stirred; then take them off the fire and mix with them the eggs, yolks and whites, beaten separately and added separately. Boil some sugar to candy; line a mould with this, put in the brandy, then the mixture; tie down with a cloth, and boil for rather more than 1 hour. When turned out, the brandy and sugar make a nice sauce. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. DAMPFNUDELN, or GERMAN PUDDINGS. 1280. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of butter, 5 eggs, 2 small tablespoonfuls of yeast, 2 tablespoonfuls of finely-pounded sugar, milk, a very little salt. _Mode_.--Put the flour into a basin, make a hole in the centre, into which put the yeast, and rather more than 1/4 pint of warm milk; make this into a batter with the middle of the flour, and let the sponge rise in a warm temperature. When sufficiently risen, mix the eggs, butter, sugar, and salt with a little more warm milk, and knead the whole well together with the hands, beating the dough until it is perfectly smooth, and it drops from the fingers. Then cover the basin with a cloth, put it in a warm place, and when the dough has nicely risen, knead it into small balls; butter the bottom of a deep sauté-pan, strew over some pounded sugar, and let the dampfnudeln be laid in, but do not let them touch one another; then pour over sufficient milk to cover them, put on the lid, and let them rise to twice their original size by the side of the fire. Now place them in the oven for a few minutes, to acquire a nice brown colour, and serve them on a napkin, with custard sauce flavoured with vanilla, or a _compôte_ of any fruit that may be preferred. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour for the sponge to rise; 10 to 15 minutes for the puddings to rise; 10 minutes to bake them in a brisk oven. _Sufficient_ for 10 or 12 dampfnudeln. _Seasonable_ at any time. GINGER PUDDING. 1281. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of suet, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 2 large teaspoonfuls of grated ginger. _Mode_.--Shred the suet very fine, mix it with the flour, sugar, and ginger; stir all well together; butter a basin, and put the mixture in _dry_; tie a cloth over, and boil for 3 hours. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. GOLDEN PUDDING. 1282. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 1/4 lb. of suet, 1/4 lb. of marmalade, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Put the bread crumbs into a basin; mix with them the suet, which should be finely minced, the marmalade, and the sugar; stir all these ingredients well together, beat the eggs to a froth, moisten the pudding with these, and when well mixed, put it into a mould or buttered basin; tie down with a floured cloth, and boil for 2 hours. When turned out, strew a little fine-sifted sugar over the top, and serve. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 11d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The mould may be ornamented with stoned raisins, arranged in any fanciful pattern, before the mixture is poured in, which would add very much to the appearance of the pudding. For a plainer pudding, double the quantities of the bread crumbs, and if the eggs do not moisten it sufficiently, use a little milk. BAKED GOOSEBERRY PUDDING. 1283. INGREDIENTS.--Gooseberries, 3 eggs, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of bread crumbs, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Put the gooseberries into a jar, previously cutting off the tops and tails; place this jar in boiling water, and let it boil until the gooseberries are soft enough to pulp; then beat them through a coarse sieve, and to every pint of pulp add 3 well-whisked eggs, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of bread crumbs, and sugar to taste; beat the mixture well, put a border of puff-paste round the edge of a pie-dish, put in the pudding, bake for about 40 minutes, strew sifted sugar over, and serve. _Time_.--About 40 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from May to July. BOILED GOOSEBERRY PUDDING. 1284. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of suet crust No. 1215, 1-1/2 pint of green gooseberries, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar. _Mode_.--Line a pudding-basin with suet crust no. 1215, rolled out to about 1/2 inch in thickness, and, with a pair of scissors, cut off the tops and tails of the gooseberries; fill the basin with the fruit, put in the sugar, and cover with crust. Pinch the edges of the pudding together, tie over it a floured cloth, put it into boiling water, and boil from 2-1/2 to 3 hours; turn it out of the basin, and serve with a jug of cream. _Time_.--2-1/2 to 3 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from May to July. GOOSEBERRY TART. 1285. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of gooseberries, 1/2 lb. of short crust No. 1211, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar. _Mode_.--With a pair of scissors cut off the tops and tails of the gooseberries; put them into a deep pie-dish, pile the fruit high in the centre, and put in the sugar; line the edge of the dish with short crust, put on the cover, and ornament the edges of the tart; bake in a good oven for about 3/4 hour, and before being sent to table, strew over it some fine-sifted sugar. A jug of cream, or a dish of boiled or baked custards, should always accompany this dish. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from May to July. [Illustration: GOOSEBERRY.] GOOSEBERRIES.--The red and the white are the two principal varieties of gooseberries. The red are rather the more acid; but, when covered with white sugar, are most wholesome, because the sugar neutralizes their acidity. Red gooseberries make an excellent jelly, which is light and refreshing, but not very nourishing. It is good for bilious and plethoric persons, and to invalids generally who need light and digestible food. It is a fruit from which many dishes might be made. All sorts of gooseberries are agreeable when stewed, and, in this country especially, there is no fruit so universally in favour. In Scotland, there is scarcely a cottage-garden without its gooseberry-bush. Several of the species are cultivated with the nicest care. HALF-PAY PUDDING. 1286. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of suet, 1/4 lb. of currants, 1/4 lb. of raisins, 1/4 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 2 tablespoonfuls of treacle, 1/2 pint of milk. _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely; mix with it the currants, which should be nicely washed and dried, the raisins, which should be stoned, the flour, bread crumbs, and treacle; moisten with the milk, beat up the ingredients until all are thoroughly mixed, put them into a buttered basin, and boil the pudding for 3-1/2 hours. _Time_.--3-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. HERODOTUS PUDDING. 1287. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, 1/2 lb. of good figs, 6 oz. of suet, 6 oz. of moist sugar, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 3 eggs, nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Mince the suet and figs very finely; add the remaining ingredients, taking care that the eggs are well whisked; beat the mixture for a few minutes, put it into a buttered mould, tie it down with a floured cloth, and boil the pudding for 5 hours. Serve with wine sauce. _Time_.--5 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. HUNTER'S PUDDING. 1288. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of raisins, 1 lb. of currants, 1 lb. of suet, 1 lb. of bread crumbs, 3 lb. of moist sugar, 8 eggs, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 3 lb. of mixed candied peel, 1 glass of brandy, 10 drops of essence of lemon, 10 drops of essence of almonds, 1/2 nutmeg, 2 blades of mace, 6 cloves. _Mode_.--Stone and shred the raisins rather small, chop the suet finely, and rub the bread until all lumps are well broken; pound the spice to powder, cut the candied peel into thin shreds, and mix all these ingredients well together, adding the sugar. Beat the eggs to a strong froth, and as they are beaten, drop into them the essence of lemon and essence of almonds; stir these to the dry ingredients, mix well, and add the brandy. Tie the pudding firmly in a cloth, and boil it for 6 hours at the least: 7 or 8 hours would be still better for it. Serve with boiled custard, or red-currant jelly, or brandy sauce. _Time_.--6 to 8 hours. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 9 or 10 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. ICED PUDDING. (_Parisian Recipe_.) [Illustration: ICED-PUDDING MOULD.] 1289. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of sweet almonds, 2 oz. of bitter ones, 3/4 lb. of sugar, 8 eggs, 1-1/2 pint of milk. _Mode_.--Blanch and dry the almonds thoroughly in a cloth, then pound them in a mortar until reduced to a smooth paste; add to these the well-beaten eggs, the sugar, and milk; stir these ingredients over the fire until they thicken, but do not allow them to boil; then strain and put the mixture into the freezing-pot; surround it with ice, and freeze it as directed in recipe 1290. When quite frozen, fill an iced-pudding mould, put on the lid, and keep the pudding in ice until required for table; then turn it out on the dish, and garnish it with a _compôte_ of any fruit that may be preferred, pouring a little over the top of the pudding. This pudding may be flavoured with vanilla, Curaçoa, or Maraschino. _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Seasonable_.--Served all the year round. ICED APPLE PUDDING. (_French Recipe, after Carême_.) 1290. INGREDIENTS.--2 dozen apples, a small pot of apricot-jam, 1/2 lb. of sugar, 1 Seville orange, 1/4 pint of preserved cherries, 1/4 lb. of raisins, 1 oz. of citron, 2 oz. of almonds, 1 gill of Curaçoa, 1 gill of Maraschino, 1 pint of cream. _Mode_.--Peel, core, and cut the apples into quarters, and simmer them over the fire until soft; then mix with them the apricot-jam and the sugar, on which the rind of the orange should be previously rubbed; work all these ingredients through a sieve, and put them into the freezing-pot. Stone the raisins, and simmer them in a little syrup for a few minutes; add these, with the sliced citron, the almonds cut in dice, and the cherries drained from their syrup, to the ingredients in the freezing-pot; put in the Curaçoa and Maraschino, and freeze again; add as much whipped cream as will be required, freeze again, and fill the mould. Put the lid on, and plunge the mould into the ice-pot; cover it with a wet cloth and pounded ice and saltpetre, where it should remain until wanted for table. Turn the pudding out of the mould on to a clean and neatly-folded napkin, and serve, as sauce, a little iced whipped cream, in a sauce-tureen or glass dish. [Illustration: ICE-SPATTLE.] [Illustration: ICE-FREEZING PAIL.] _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Seasonable_ from August to March. _Method of working the freezing Apparatus_.--Put into the outer pail some pounded ice, upon which strew some saltpetre; then fix the pewter freezing-pot upon this, and surround it entirely with ice and saltpetre. Wipe the cover and edges of the pot, pour in the preparation, and close the lid; a quarter of an hour after, begin turning the freezing-pan from right to left, and when the mixture begins to be firm round the sides of the pot, stir it about with the slice or spattle, that the preparation may be equally congealed. Close the lid again, keep working from right to left, and, from time to time, remove the mixture from the sides, that it may be smooth; and when perfectly frozen, it is ready to put in the mould; the mould should then be placed in the ice again, where it should remain until wanted for table. ROLY-POLY JAM PUDDING. 1291. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb of suet-crust No. 1215, 3/4 lb. of any kind of jam. _Mode_.--Make a nice light suet-crust by recipe No. 1215, and roll it out to the thickness of about 1/2 inch. Spread the jam equally over it, leaving a small margin of paste without any, where the pudding joins. Roll it up, fasten the ends securely, and tie it in a floured cloth; put the pudding into boiling water, and boil for 2 hours. Mincemeat or marmalade may be substituted for the jam, and makes excellent puddings. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for winter puddings, when fresh fruit is not obtainable. LEMON CHEESECAKES. 1292. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 1 lb. of loaf sugar, 6 eggs, the rind of 2 lemons and the juice of 3. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a stewpan, carefully grating the lemon-rind and straining the juice. Keep stirring the mixture over the fire until the sugar is dissolved, and it begins to thicken: when of the consistency of honey, it is done; then put it into small jars, and keep in a dry place. This mixture will remain good 3 or 4 months. When made into cheesecakes, add a few pounded almonds, or candied peel, or grated sweet biscuit; line some patty-pans with good puff-paste, rather more than half fill them with the mixture, and bake for about 1/4 hour in a good brisk oven. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 24 cheesecakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON MINCEMEAT. 1293. INGREDIENTS.--2 large lemons, 6 large apples, 1/2 lb. of suet, 1 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of sugar, 2 oz. of candied lemon-peel, 1 oz. of citron, mixed spice to taste. _Mode_.--Pare the lemons, squeeze them, and boil the peel until tender enough to mash. Add to the mashed lemon-peel the apples, which should be pared, cored, and minced; the chopped suet, currants, sugar, sliced peel, and spice. Strain the lemon-juice to these ingredients, stir the mixture well, and put it in a jar with a closely-fitting lid. Stir occasionally, and in a week or 10 days the mincemeat will be ready for use. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 18 large or 24 small pies. _Seasonable_.--Make this about the beginning of December. LEMON DUMPLINGS. 1294. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of grated bread, 1/4 lb. of chopped suet, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 2 eggs, 1 large lemon. [Illustration: LEMON DUMPLINGS.] _Mode_.--Mix the bread, suet, and moist sugar well together, adding the lemon-peel, which should be very finely minced. Moisten with the eggs and strained lemon-juice; stir well, and put the mixture into small buttered cups. Tie them down and boil for 3/4 hour. Turn them out on a dish, strew sifted sugar over them, and serve with wine sauce. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 6 dumplings. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKED LEMON PUDDING. I. 1295. INGREDIENTS.--The yolks of 4 eggs, 4 oz. of pounded sugar, 1 lemon, 1/4 lb. of butter, puff-crust. _Mode_.--Beat the eggs to a froth; mix with them the sugar and warmed butter; stir these ingredients well together, putting in the grated rind and strained juice of the lemon-peel. Line a shallow dish with puff-paste; put in the mixture, and bake in a moderate oven for 40 minutes; turn the pudding out of the dish, strew over it sifted sugar, and serve. _Time_.--40 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. II. 1296. INGREDIENTS.--10 oz. of bread crumbs, 2 pints of milk, 2 oz. of butter, 1 lemon, 1/4 lb. of pounded sugar, 4 eggs, 1 tablespoonful of brandy. _Mode_.--Bring the milk to the boiling point, stir in the butter, and pour these hot over the bread crumbs; add the sugar and very finely-minced lemon-peel; beat the eggs, and stir these in with the brandy to the other ingredients; put a paste round the dish, and bake for 3/4 hour. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: LEMON.] LEMON.--The lemon is a variety of the citron. The juice of this fruit makes one of our most popular and refreshing beverages--lemonade, which is gently stimulating and cooling, and soon quenches the thirst. It may he freely partaken by bilious and sanguine temperaments; but persons with irritable stomachs should avoid it, on account of its acid qualities. The fresh rind of the lemon is a gentle tonic, and, when dried and grated, is used in flavouring a variety of culinary preparations. Lemons appear in company with the orange in most orange-growing countries. They were only known to the Romans at a very late period, and, at first, were used only to keep the moths from their garments: their acidity was unpleasant to them. In the time of Pliny, the lemon was hardly known otherwise than as an excellent counter-poison. III. (_Very rich_.) 1297. INGREDIENTS.--The rind and juice of 2 large lemons, 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, 1/4 pint of cream, the yolks of 8 eggs, 2 oz. of almonds, 1/2 lb. of butter, melted. _Mode_.--Mix the pounded sugar with the cream, and add the yolks of eggs and the butter, which should be previously warmed. Blanch and pound the almonds, and put these, with the grated rind and strained juice of the lemons, to the other ingredients. Stir all well together; line a dish with puff-paste, put in the mixture, and bake for 1 hour. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BOILED LEMON PUDDING. 1298. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of chopped suet, 3/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 2 small lemons, 6 oz. of moist sugar, 1/4 lb. of flour, 2 eggs, milk. _Mode_.--Mix the suet, bread crumbs, sugar, and flour well together, adding the lemon-peel, which should be very finely minced, and the juice, which should be strained. When these ingredients are well mixed, moisten with the eggs and sufficient milk to make the pudding of the consistency of thick batter; put it into a well-buttered mould, and boil for 3-1/2 hours; turn it out, strew sifted sugar over, and serve with wine sauce, or not, at pleasure. _Time_.--3-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--This pudding may also be baked, and will be found very good. It will take about 2 hours. PLAIN LEMON PUDDING. 1299. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of flour, 6 oz. of lard or dripping, the juice of 1 large lemon, 1 teaspoonful of flour, sugar. _Mode_.--Make the above proportions of flour and lard into a smooth paste, and roll it out to the thickness of about 1/2 inch. Squeeze the lemon-juice, strain it into a cup, stir the flour into it, and as much moist sugar as will make it into a stiff and thick paste; spread this mixture over the paste, roll it up, secure the ends, and tie the pudding in a floured cloth. Boil for 2 hours. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MANCHESTER PUDDING (to eat Cold). 1300. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of grated bread, 1/2 pint of milk, a strip of lemon-peel, 4 eggs, 2 oz. of butter, sugar to taste, puff-paste, jam, 3 tablespoonfuls of brandy. _Mode_.--Flavour the milk with lemon-peel, by infusing it in the milk for 1/2 hour; then strain it on to the bread crumbs, and boil it for 2 or 3 minutes; add the eggs, leaving out the whites of 2, the butter, sugar, and brandy; stir all these ingredients well together; cover a pie-dish with puff-paste, and at the bottom put a thick layer of any kind of jam; pour the above mixture, cold, on the jam, and bake the pudding for an hour. Serve cold, with a little sifted sugar sprinkled over. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. SWEET MACARONI PUDDING. 1301. INGREDIENTS.--2-1/2 oz. of macaroni, 2 pints of milk, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 3 eggs, sugar and grated nutmeg to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of brandy. _Mode_.--Put the macaroni, with a pint of the milk, into a saucepan with the lemon-peel, and let it simmer gently until the macaroni is tender; then put it into a pie-dish without the peel; mix the other pint of milk with the eggs; stir these well together, adding the sugar and brandy, and pour the mixture over the macaroni. Grate a little nutmeg over the top, and bake in a moderate oven for 1/2 hour. To make this pudding look nice, a paste should be laid round the edges of the dish, and, for variety, a layer of preserve or marmalade may be placed on the macaroni: in this case omit the brandy. _Time_.--3/4 hour to simmer the macaroni; 1/2 hour to bake the pudding. _Average cost_, 11d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MACARONI is composed of wheaten flour, flavoured with other articles, and worked up with water into a paste, to which, by a peculiar process, a tubular or pipe form is given, in order that it may cook more readily in hot water. That of smaller diameter than macaroni (which is about the thickness of a goose-quill) is called _vermicelli_; and when smaller still, _fidelini_. The finest is made from the flour of the hard-grained Black-Sea wheat. Macaroni is the principal article of food in many parts of Italy, particularly Naples, where the best is manufactured, and from whence, also, it is exported in considerable quantities. In this country, macaroni and vermicelli are frequently used in soups. [Illustration: MACARONI.] MANNA KROUP PUDDING. 1302. INGREDIENTS.--3 tablespoonfuls of manna kroup, 12 bitter almonds, 1 pint of milk, sugar to taste, 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Blanch and pound the almonds in a mortar; mix them with the manna kroup; pour over these a pint of boiling milk, and let them steep for about 1/4 hour. When nearly cold, add sugar and the well-beaten eggs; mix all well together; put the pudding into a buttered dish, and bake for 1/2 hour. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MANNA KROUP, SEMORA, or SEMOLINA, are three names given to a flour made from ground wheat and rice. The preparation is white when it is made only of these materials; the yellow colour which it usually has, is produced by a portion of saffron and yolks of eggs. Next to vermicelli, this preparation is the most useful for thickening either meat or vegetable soups. As a food, it is light, nutritious, wholesome, and easily digested. The best preparation is brought from Arabia, and, next to that, from Italy. MANSFIELD PUDDING. 1303. INGREDIENTS.--The crumb of 2 rolls, 1 pint of milk, sugar to taste, 4 eggs, 2 tablespoonfuls of brandy, 6 oz. of chopped suet, 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream. _Mode_.--Slice the roll very thin, and pour upon it a pint of boiling milk; let it remain covered close for 1/4 hour, then beat it up with a fork, and sweeten with moist sugar; stir in the chopped suet, flour, currants, and nutmeg. Mix these ingredients well together, moisten with the eggs, brandy, and cream; beat the mixture for 2 or 3 minutes, put it into a buttered dish or mould, and bake in a moderate oven for 1-1/4 hour. Turn it out, strew sifted sugar over, and serve. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MARLBOROUGH PUDDING. 1304. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 1/4 lb. of powdered lump sugar, 4 eggs, puff-paste, a layer of any kind of jam. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream, stir in the powdered sugar, whisk the eggs, and add these to the other ingredients. When these are well mixed, line a dish with puff-paste, spread over a layer of any kind of jam that may be preferred, pour in the mixture, and bake the pudding for rather more than 1/2 hour. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MARMALADE AND VERMICELLI PUDDING. 1305. INGREDIENTS.--1 breakfastcupful of vermicelli, 2 tablespoonfuls of marmalade, 1/4 lb. of raisins, sugar to taste, 3 eggs, milk. _Mode_.--Pour some boiling milk on the vermicelli, and let it remain covered for 10 minutes; then mix with it the marmalade, stoned raisins, sugar, and beaten eggs. Stir all well together, put the mixture into a buttered mould, boil for 1-1/2 hour, and serve with custard sauce. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_. 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MARROW DUMPLINGS, to serve with Roast Meat, in Soup, with Salad, &c. (_German Recipe_.) 1306. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of beef marrow, 1 oz. of butter, 2 eggs, 2 penny rolls, 1 teaspoonful of minced onion, 1 teaspoonful of minced parsley, salt and grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Beat the marrow and butter together to a cream; well whisk the eggs, and add these to the other ingredients. When they are well stirred, put in the rolls, which should previously be well soaked in boiling milk, strained, and beaten up with a fork. Add the remaining ingredients, omitting the minced onion where the flavour is very much disliked, and form the mixture into small round dumplings. Drop these into boiling broth, and let them simmer for about 20 minutes or 1/2 hour. They may be served in soup, with roast meat, or with salad, as in Germany, where they are more frequently sent to table than in this country. They are very good. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 dumplings. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKED OB BOILED MARROW PUDDING. 1307. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of bread crumbs, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 6 oz. of marrow, 4 eggs, 1/4 lb. of raisins or currants, or 2 oz. of each; sugar and grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Make the milk boiling, pour it hot on to the bread crumbs, and let these remain covered for about 1/2 hour; shred the marrow, beat up the eggs, and mix these with the bread crumbs; add the remaining ingredients, beat the mixture well, and either put it into a buttered mould and boil it for 2-1/2 hours, or put it into a pie-dish edged with puff-paste, and bake for rather more than 3/4 hour. Before sending it to table, sift a little pounded sugar over, after being turned out of the mould or basin. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours to boil, 3/4 hour to bake. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MILITARY PUDDINGS. 1308. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of suet, 1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, 1/2 lb. of moist sugar, the rind and juice of 1 large lemon. _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely, mix it with the bread crumbs and sugar, and mince the lemon-rind and strain the juice; stir these into the other ingredients, mix well, and put the mixture into small buttered cups, and bake for rather more than 1/2 hour; turn them out on the dish, and serve with lemon-sauce. The above ingredients may be made into small balls, and boiled for about 1/2 hour; they should then be served with the same sauce as when baked. _Time_.--Rather more than 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ to fill 6 or 7 moderate-sized cups. _Seasonable_ at any time. MINCEMEAT. 1309. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of raisins, 3 lbs. of currants, 1-1/2 lb. of lean beef, 3 lbs. of beef suet, 2 lbs. of moist sugar, 2 oz. of citron, 2 oz. of candied lemon-peel, 2 oz. of candied orange-peel, 1 small nutmeg, 1 pottle of apples, the rind of 2 lemons, the juice of 1, 1/2 pint of brandy. _Mode_.--Stone and _cut_ the raisins once or twice across, but do not chop them; wash, dry, and pick the currants free from stalks and grit, and mince the beef and suet, taking care that the latter is chopped very fine; slice the citron and candied peel, grate the nutmeg, and pare, core, and mince the apples; mince the lemon-peel, strain the juice, and when all the ingredients are thus prepared, mix them well together, adding the brandy when the other things are well blended; press the whole into a jar, carefully exclude the air, and the mincemeat will be ready for use in a fortnight. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 8s. _Seasonable_.--Make this about the beginning of December. EXCELLENT MINCEMEAT. 1310. INGREDIENTS.--3 large lemons, 3 large apples, 1 lb. of stoned raisins, 1 lb. of currants, 1 lb. of suet, 2 lbs. of moist sugar, 1 oz. of sliced candied citron, 1 oz. of sliced candied orange-peel, and the same quantity of lemon-peel, 1 teacupful of brandy, 2 tablespoonfuls of orange marmalade. _Mode_.--Grate the rinds of the lemons; squeeze out the juice, strain it, and boil the remainder of the lemons until tender enough to pulp or chop very finely. Then add to this pulp the apples, which should be baked, and their skins and cores removed; put in the remaining ingredients one by one, and, as they are added, mix everything very thoroughly together. Put the mincemeat into a stone jar with a closely-fitting lid, and in a fortnight it will be ready for use. _Seasonable_.--This should be made the first or second week in December. MINCE PIES. 1311. INGREDIENTS.--Good puff-paste No. 1205, mincemeat No. 1309. [Illustration: MINCE PIES.] _Mode_.--Make some good puff-paste by recipe No. 1205; roll it out to the thickness of about 1/4 inch, and line some good-sized pattypans with it; fill them with mincemeat, cover with the paste, and cut it off all round close to the edge of the tin. Put the pies into a brisk oven, to draw the paste up, and bake for 25 minutes, or longer, should the pies be very large; brush them over with the white of an egg, beaten with the blade of a knife to a stiff froth; sprinkle over pounded sugar, and put them into the oven for a minute or two, to dry the egg; dish the pies on a white d'oyley, and serve hot. They may be merely sprinkled with pounded sugar instead of being glazed, when that mode is preferred. To re-warm them, put the pies on the pattypans, and let them remain in the oven for 10 minutes or 1/4 hour, and they will be almost as good as if freshly made. _Time_.--25 to 30 minutes; 10 minutes to re-warm them. _Average cost_, 4d. each. _Sufficient_--1/2 lb. of paste for 4 pies. _Seasonable_ at Christmas time. MONDAY'S PUDDING. 1312. INGREDIENTS.--The remains of cold plum-pudding, brandy, custard made with 5 eggs to every pint of milk. _Mode_.--Cut the remains of a _good_ cold plum-pudding into finger-pieces, soak them in a little brandy, and lay them cross-barred in a mould until full. Make a custard with the above proportion of milk and eggs, flavouring it with nutmeg or lemon-rind; fill up the mould with it; tie it down with a cloth, and boil or steam it for an hour. Serve with a little of the custard poured over, to which has been added a tablespoonful of brandy. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, exclusive of the pudding, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. NESSELRODE PUDDING. (_A fashionable iced pudding--Carême's Recipe_.) 1313. INGREDIENTS.--40 chestnuts, 1 lb. of sugar, flavouring of vanilla, 1 pint of cream, the yolks of 12 eggs, 1 glass of Maraschino, 1 oz. of candied citron, 2 oz. of currants, 2 oz. of stoned raisins, 1/2 pint of whipped cream, 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Blanch the chestnuts in boiling water, remove the husks, and pound them in a mortar until perfectly smooth, adding a few spoonfuls of syrup. Then rub them through a fine sieve, and mix them in a basin with a pint of syrup made from 1 lb. of sugar, clarified, and flavoured with vanilla, 1 pint of cream, and the yolks of 12 eggs. Set this mixture over a slow fire, stirring it _without ceasing_, and just as it begins to boil, take it off and pass it through a tammy. When it is cold, put it into a freezing-pot, adding the Maraschino, and make the mixture set; then add the sliced citron, the currants, and stoned raisins (these two latter should be soaked the day previously in Maraschino and sugar pounded with vanilla); the whole thus mingled, add a plateful of whipped cream mixed with the whites of 3 eggs, beaten to a froth with a little syrup. When the pudding is perfectly frozen, put it into a pineapple-shaped mould; close the lid, place it again in the freezing-pan, covered over with pounded ice and saltpetre, and let it remain until required for table; then turn the pudding out, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Seasonable_ from October to February. BAKED ORANGE PUDDING. 1314. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of stale sponge cake or bruised ratafias, 6 oranges, 1 pint of milk, 6 eggs, 1/2 lb. of sugar. _Mode_.--Bruise the sponge cake or ratafias into fine crumbs, and pour upon them the milk, which should be boiling. Rub the rinds of 2 of the oranges on sugar, and add this, with the juice of the remainder, to the other ingredients. Beat up the eggs, stir them in, sweeten to taste, and put the mixture into a pie-dish previously lined with puff-paste. Bake for rather more than 1/2 hour; turn it out of the dish, strew sifted sugar over, and serve. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to May. [Illustration: ORANGE.] ORANGE (_Citrus Aurantium_).--The principal varieties are the sweet, or China orange, and the bitter, or Seville orange; the Maltese is also worthy of notice, from its red blood-like pulp. The orange is extensively cultivated in the south of Europe, and in Devonshire, on walls with a south aspect, it bears an abundance of fruit. So great is the increase in the demand for the orange, and so ample the supply, that it promises to rival the apple in its popularity. The orange-tree is considered young at the age of a hundred years. The pulp of the orange consists of a collection of oblong vesicles filled with a sugary and refreshing juice. The orange blossom is proverbially chosen for the bridal wreath, and, from the same flower, an essential oil is extracted hardly less esteemed than the celebrated ottar of roses. Of all marmalades, that made from the Seville orange is the best. The peel and juice of the orange are much used in culinary preparations. From oranges are made preserves, comfitures, jellies, glacés, sherbet, liqueurs, and syrups. The juice of the orange in a glass _d'eau sucrée_ makes a refreshing and wholesome drink. From the clarified pulp of the orange the French make a delicious jelly, which they serve in small pots, and call _crême_. The rasped peel of the orange is used in several sweet _entremets_, to which it communicates its perfume. The confectioner manufactures a variety of dainties from all parts of the orange. Confections of orange-peel are excellent tonics and stomachics. Persons with delicate stomachs should abstain from oranges at dessert, because their acidity is likely to derange the digestive organs. SMALL DISHES OF PASTRY FOR ENTREMETS, SUPPER-DISHES, &c. FANCHONNETTES, or CUSTARD TARTLETS. 1315. INGREDIENTS.--For the custard, 4 eggs, 3/4 pint of milk, 2 oz. of butter, 2 oz. of pounded sugar, 3 dessertspoonfuls of flour, flavouring to taste; the whites of 2 eggs, 2 oz. of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Well beat the eggs; stir to them the milk, the butter, which should be beaten to a cream, the sugar, and flour; mix these ingredients well together, put them into a very clean saucepan, and bring them to the simmering point, but do not allow them to boil. Flavour with essence of vanilla, bitter almonds, lemon, grated chocolate, or any flavouring ingredient that may be preferred. Line some round tartlet-pans with good puff-paste; fill them with the custard, and bake in a moderate oven for about 20 minutes; then take them out of the pans; let them cool, and in the mean time whisk the whites of the eggs to a stiff froth; stir into this the pounded sugar, and spread smoothly over the tartlets a little of this mixture. Put them in the oven again to set the icing, but be particular that they do not scorch: when the icing looks crisp, they are done. Arrange them, piled high in the centre, on a white napkin, and garnish the dish, and in between the tartlets, with strips of bright jelly, or very firmly-made preserve. _Time_.--20 minutes to bake the tartlets; 5 minutes after being iced. _Average cost_, exclusive of the paste, 1s. _Sufficient_ to fill 10 or 12 tartlets. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The icing may be omitted on the top of the tartlets, and a spoonful of any kind of preserve put at the bottom of the custard instead: this varies both the flavour and appearance of this dish. ALMOND FLOWERS. 1316. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-paste No. 1205; to every 1/2 lb. of paste allow 3 oz. of almonds, sifted sugar, the white of an egg. _Mode_.--Roll the paste out to the thickness of 1/4 inch, and, with a round fluted cutter, stamp out as many pieces as may be required. Work the paste up again, roll it out, and, with a smaller cutter, stamp out some pieces the size of a shilling. Brush the larger pieces over with the white of an egg, and place one of the smaller pieces on each. Blanch and cut the almonds into strips lengthwise; press them slanting into the paste closely round the rings; and when they are all completed, sift over some pounded sugar, and bake for about 1/4 hour or 20 minutes. Garnish between the almonds with strips of apple jelly, and place in the centre of the ring a small quantity of strawberry jam; pile them high on the dish, and serve. _Time_.--1/4 hour or 20 minutes. _Sufficient_.--18 or 20 for a dish. _Seasonable_ at any time. FLUTED ROLLS. 1317. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-paste, the white of an egg, sifted sugar, jelly or preserve. _Mode_.--Make some good puff-paste by recipe No. 1205 (trimmings answer very well for little dishes of this sort); roll it out to the thickness of 1/4 inch, and, with a round fluted paste-cutter, stamp out as many round pieces as may be required; brush over the upper side with the white of an egg; roll up the pieces, pressing the paste lightly together where it joins; place the rolls on a baking-sheet, and bake for about 1/4 hour. A few minutes before they are done, brush them over with the white of an egg; strew over sifted sugar, put them back in the oven; and when the icing is firm and of a pale brown colour, they are done. Place a strip of jelly or preserve across each roll, dish them high on a napkin, and serve cold. _Time_.--1/4 hour before being iced; 5 to 10 minutes after. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_.--1/2 lb. of puff-paste for 2 dishes. _Seasonable_ at any time. PASTRY SANDWICHES. 1318. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-paste, jam of any kind, the white of an egg, sifted sugar. _Mode_.--Roll the paste out thin; put half of it on a baking-sheet or tin, and spread equally over it apricot, greengage, or any preserve that may be preferred. Lay over this preserve another thin paste; press the edges together all round; and mark the paste in lines with a knife on the surface, to show where to cut it when baked. Bake from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour; and, a short time before being done, take the pastry out of the oven, brush it over with the white of an egg, sift over pounded sugar, and put it back in the oven to colour. When cold, cut it into strips; pile these on a dish pyramidically, and serve. These strips, cut about 2 inches long, piled in circular rows, and a plateful of flavoured whipped cream poured in the middle, make a very pretty dish. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1 hour. _Average cost_, with 1/2 lb. of paste, 1s. _Sufficient_.--1/2 lb. of paste will make 2 dishes of sandwiches. _Seasonable_ at any time. PETITES BOUCHEES. 1319. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of sweet almonds, 1/4 lb. of sifted sugar, the rind of 1/2 lemon, the white of 1 egg, puff-paste. _Mode_.--Blanch the almonds, and chop them fine; rub the sugar on the lemon-rind, and pound it in a mortar; mix this with the almonds and the white of the egg. Roll some puff-paste out; cut it in any shape that may be preferred, such as diamonds, rings, ovals, &c., and spread the above mixture over the paste. Bake the bouchées in an oven, not too hot, and serve cold. _Time_.--1/4 hour, or rather more. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 1/2 lb. of puff-paste. _Seasonable_ at any time. POLISH TARTLETS. 1320. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-paste, the white of an egg, pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Roll some good puff-paste out thin, and cut it into 2-1/2-inch squares; brush each square over with the white of an egg, then fold down the corners, so that they all meet in the middle of each piece of paste; slightly press the two pieces together, brush them over with the egg, sift over sugar, and bake in a nice quick oven for about 1/4 hour. When they are done, make a little hole in the middle of the paste, and fill it up with apricot jam, marmalade, or red-currant jelly. Pile them high in the centre of a dish, on a napkin, and garnish with the same preserve the tartlets are filled with. _Time_.--1/4 hour or 20 minutes. _Average cost_, with 1/2 lb. of puff-paste, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 2 dishes of pastry. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--It should be borne in mind, that, for all dishes of small pastry, such as the preceding, trimmings of puff-pasty, left from larger tarts, answer as well as making the paste expressly. PUITS d'AMOUR, or PUFF-PASTE RINGS. 1321. INGREDIENTS.--Puff-paste No. 1205, the white of an egg, sifted loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Make some good puff-paste by recipe No. 1205; roll it out to the thickness of about 1/4 inch, and, with a round fluted paste-cutter, stamp out as many pieces as may be required; then work the paste up again, and roll it out to the same thickness, and with a smaller cutter, stamp out sufficient pieces to correspond with the larger ones. Again stamp out the centre of these smaller rings; brush over the others with the white of an egg, place a small ring on the top of every large circular piece of paste, egg over the tops, and bake from 15 to 20 minutes. Sift over sugar, put them back in the oven to colour them; then fill the rings with preserve of any bright colour. Dish them high on a napkin, and serve. So many pretty dishes of pastry may be made by stamping puff-paste out with fancy cutters, and filling the pieces, when baked, with jelly or preserve, that our space will not allow us to give a separate recipe for each of them; but, as they are all made from one paste, and only the shape and garnishing varied, perhaps it is not necessary, and by exercising a little ingenuity, variety may always be obtained. Half-moons, leaves, diamonds, stars, shamrocks, rings, etc., are the most appropriate shapes for fancy pastry. _Time_.--15 to 25 minutes. _Average cost_, with 1/2 lb. of paste, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 2 dishes of pastry. _Seasonable_ at any time. PARADISE PUDDING. 1322. INGREDIENTS.--3 eggs, 3 apples, 1/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 3 oz. of sugar, 3 oz. of currants, salt and grated nutmeg to taste, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 1/2 wineglassful of brandy. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and mince the apples into small pieces, and mix them with the other dry ingredients; beat up the eggs, moisten the mixture with these, and beat it well; stir in the brandy, and put the pudding into a buttered mould; tie it down with a cloth, boil for 1-1/2 hour, and serve with sweet sauce. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. PEASE PUDDING. 1323. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of split peas, 2 oz. of butter, 2 eggs, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Put the peas to soak over-night, in rain-water, and float off any that are wormeaten or discoloured. Tie them loosely in a clean cloth, leaving a little room for them to swell, and put them on to boil in cold rain-water, allowing 2-1/2 hours after the water has simmered up. When the peas are tender, take them up and drain; rub them through a colander with a wooden spoon; add the butter, eggs, pepper, and salt; beat all well together for a few minutes, until the ingredients are well incorporated; then tie them tightly in a floured cloth; boil the pudding for another hour, turn it on to the dish, and serve very hot. This pudding should always be sent to table with boiled leg of pork, and is an exceedingly nice accompaniment to boiled beef. _Time_.--2-1/2 hours to boil the peas, tied loosely in the cloth; 1 hour for the pudding. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to March. BAKED PLUM-PUDDING. 1324. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of flour, 1 lb. of currants, 1 lb. of raisins, 1 lb. of suet, 2 eggs, 1 pint of milk, a few slices of candied peel. _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely; mix with it the flour, currants, stoned raisins, and candied peel; moisten with the well-beaten eggs, and add sufficient milk to make the pudding of the consistency of very thick batter. Put it into a buttered dish, and bake in a good oven from 2-1/4 to 2-1/2 hours; turn it out, strew sifted sugar over, and serve. For a very plain pudding, use only half the quantity of fruit, omit the eggs, and substitute milk or water for them. The above ingredients make a large family pudding; for a small one, half the quantity would be found ample; but it must be baked quite 1-1/2 hour. _Time_.--Large pudding, 2-1/4 to 2-1/2 hours; half the size, 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 9 or 10 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. [Illustration: RAISIN-GRAPE.] RAISIN GRAPE.--All the kinds of raisins have much the same virtues; they are nutritive and balsamic, but they are very subject to fermentation with juices of any kind; and hence, when eaten immoderately, they often bring on colics. There are many varieties of grape used for raisins; the fruit of Valencia is that mostly dried for culinary purposes, whilst most of the table kinds are grown in Malaga, and called Muscatels. The finest of all table raisins come from Provence or Italy; the most esteemed of all are those of Roquevaire; they are very large and very sweet. This sort is rarely eaten by any but the most wealthy. The dried Malaga, or Muscatel raisins, which come to this country packed in small boxes, and nicely preserved in bunches, are variable in their quality, but mostly of a rich flavour, when new, juicy, and of a deep purple hue. AN EXCELLENT PLUM-PUDDING, made without Eggs. 1325. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of flour, 6 oz. of raisins, 6 oz. of currants, 1/4 lb. of chopped suet, 1/4 lb. of brown sugar, 1/4 lb. of mashed carrot, 1/4 lb. of mashed potatoes, 1 tablespoonful of treacle, 1 oz. of candied lemon-peel, 1 oz. of candied citron. _Mode_.--Mix the flour, currants, suet, and sugar well together; have ready the above proportions of mashed carrot and potato, which stir into the other ingredients; add the treacle and lemon-peel; but put no liquid in the mixture, or it will be spoiled. Tie it loosely in a cloth, or, if put in a basin, do not quite fill it, as the pudding should have room to swell, and boil it for 4 hours. Serve with brandy-sauce. This pudding is better for being mixed over-night. _Time_.--4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. AN UNRIVALLED PLUM-PUDDING. 1326. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of muscatel raisins, 1-3/4 lb. of currants, 1 lb. of sultana raisins, 2 lbs. of the finest moist sugar, 2 lbs. of bread crumbs, 16 eggs, 2 lbs. of finely-chopped suet, 6 oz. of mixed candied peel, the rind of 2 lemons, 1 oz. of ground nutmeg, 1 oz. of ground cinnamon, 1/2 oz. of pounded bitter almonds, 1/4 pint of brandy. _Mode_.--Stone and cut up the raisins, but do not chop them; wash and dry the currants, and cut the candied peel into thin slices. Mix all the dry ingredients well together, and moisten with the eggs, which should be well beaten and strained, to the pudding; stir in the brandy, and, when all is thoroughly mixed, well butter and flour a stout new pudding-cloth; put in the pudding, tie it down very tightly and closely, boil from 6 to 8 hours, and serve with brandy-sauce. A few sweet almonds, blanched and cut in strips, and stuck on the pudding, ornament it prettily. This quantity may be divided and boiled in buttered moulds. For small families this is the most desirable way, as the above will be found to make a pudding of rather large dimensions. _Time_.--6 to 8 hours. _Average cost_, 7s. 6d. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Sufficient_ for 12 or 14 persons. _Note_.--The muscatel raisins can be purchased at a cheap rate loose (not in bunches): they are then scarcely higher in price than the ordinary raisins, and impart a much richer flavour to the pudding. [Illustration: SULTANA GRAPE.] SULTANA GRAPE.--We have elsewhere stated that the small black grape grown in Corinth and the Ionian Isles is, when dried, the common currant of the grocers' shops; the white or yellow grape, grown in the same places, is somewhat larger than the black variety, and is that which produces the Sultana raisin. It has been called Sultana from its delicate qualities and unique growth: the finest are those of Smyrna. They have not sufficient flavour and sugary properties to serve alone for puddings and cakes, but they are peculiarly valuable for mixing, that is to say, for introducing in company with the richer sorts of Valencias or Muscatels. In white puddings, or cakes, too, where the whiteness must be preserved, the Sultana raisin should be used. But the greatest value of this fruit in the _cuisine_ is that of its saving labour; for it has no stones. Half Muscatels and half Sultanas are an admirable mixture for general purposes. A PLAIN CHRISTMAS PUDDING FOR CHILDREN. 1327. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1 lb. of bread crumbs, 3/4 lb. of stoned raisins, 3/4 lb. of currants, 3/4 lb. of suet, 3 or 4 eggs, milk, 2 oz. of candied peel, 1 teaspoonful of powdered allspice, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Let the suet be finely chopped, the raisins stoned, and the currants well washed, picked, and dried. Mix these with the other dry ingredients, and stir all well together; beat and strain the eggs to the pudding, stir these in, and add just sufficient milk to make it mix properly. Tie it up in a well-floured cloth, put it into boiling water, and boil for at least 5 hours. Serve with a sprig of holly placed in the middle of the pudding, and a little pounded sugar sprinkled over it. _Time_.--5 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 9 or 10 children. _Seasonable_ at Christmas. RAISINS.--Raisins are grapes, prepared by suffering them to remain on the vine until they are perfectly ripe, and then drying them in the sun or by the heat of an oven. The sun-dried grapes are sweet, the oven-dried of an acid flavour. The common way of drying grapes for raisins is to tie two or three bunches of them together, whilst yet on the vine, and dip them into a hot lixivium of wood-ashes mixed with a little of the oil of olives: this disposes them to shrink and wrinkle, after which they are left on the vine three or four days, separated, on sticks in a horizontal situation, and then dried in the sun at leisure, after being cut from the tree. CHRISTMAS PLUM-PUDDING. (_Very Good_.) 1328. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of raisins, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of mixed peel, 3/4 lb. of bread crumbs, 3/4 lb. of suet, 8 eggs, 1 wineglassful of brandy. [Illustration: CHRISTMAS PLUM-PUDDING IN MOULD.] _Mode_.--Stone and cut the raisins in halves, but do not chop them; wash, pick, and dry the currants, and mince the suet finely; cut the candied peel into thin slices, and grate down the bread into fine crumbs. When all these dry ingredients are prepared, mix them well together; then moisten the mixture with the eggs, which should be well beaten, and the brandy; stir well, that everything may be very thoroughly blended, and _press_ the pudding into a buttered mould; tie it down tightly with a floured cloth, and boil for 5 or 6 hours. It may be boiled in a cloth without a mould, and will require the same time allowed for cooking. As Christmas puddings are usually made a few days before they are required for table, when the pudding is taken out of the pot, hang it up immediately, and put a plate or saucer underneath to catch the water that may drain from it. The day it is to be eaten, plunge it into boiling water, and keep it boiling for at least 2 hours; then turn it out of the mould, and serve with brandy-sauce. On Christmas-day a sprig of holly is usually placed in the middle of the pudding, and about a wineglassful of brandy poured round it, which, at the moment of serving, is lighted, and the pudding thus brought to table encircled in flame. _Time_.--5 or 6 hours the first time of boiling; 2 hours the day it is to be served. _Average cost_, 4s. _Sufficient_ for a quart mould for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ on the 25th of December, and on various festive occasions till March. _Note_.--Five or six of these puddings should be made at one time, as they will keep good for many weeks, and in cases where unexpected guests arrive, will be found an acceptable, and, as it only requires warming through, a quickly-prepared dish. Moulds of every shape and size are manufactured for these puddings, and may be purchased of Messrs. R. & J. Slack, 336, Strand. BRANDY is the alcoholic or spirituous portion of wine, separated from the aqueous part, the colouring matter, &c., by distillation. The word is of German origin, and in its German form, _brantuein_, signifies burnt wine, or wine that has undergone the action of fire; brandies, so called, however, have been made from potatoes, carrots, beetroot, pears, and other vegetable substances; but they are all inferior to true brandy. Brandy is prepared in most wine countries, but that of France is the most esteemed. It is procured not only by distilling the wine itself, but also by fermenting and distilling the _marc_, or residue of the pressings of the grape. It is procured indifferently from red or white wine, and different wines yield very different proportions of it, the strongest, of course, giving the largest quantity. Brandy obtained from marc has a more acrid taste than that from wine. The celebrated brandy of Cognac, a town in the department of Charente, and that brought from Andraye, seem to owe their excellence from being made from white wine. Like other spirit, brandy is colourless when recently distilled; by mere keeping, however, owing, probably, to some change in the soluble matter contained in it, it acquires a slight colour, which is much increased by keeping in casks, and is made of the required intensity by the addition of burnt sugar or other colouring matter. What is called _British brandy_ is not, in fact, brandy, which is the name, as we have said, of a spirit distilled from _wine;_ but is a spirit made chiefly from malt spirit, with the addition of mineral acids and various flavouring ingredients, the exact composition being kept secret. It is distilled somewhat extensively in this country; real brandy scarcely at all. The brandies imported into England are chiefly from Bordeaux, Rochelle, and Cognac. A POUND PLUM-PUDDING. 1329. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of suet, 1 lb. of currants, 1 lb. of stoned raisins, 8 eggs, 1/2 grated nutmeg, 2 oz. of sliced candied peel, 1 teaspoonful of ground ginger, 1/2 lb. of bread crumbs, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 pint of milk. [Illustration: BAKED PUDDING OR CAKE-MOULD.] _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely; mix with it the dry ingredients; stir these well together, and add the well-beaten eggs and milk to moisten with. Beat up the mixture well, and should the above proportion of milk not be found sufficient to make it of the proper consistency, a little more should be added. Press the pudding into a mould, tie it in a floured cloth, and boil for 5 hours, or rather longer, and serve with brandy-sauce. _Time_.--5 hours, or longer. _Average cost_, 3s. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. _Note_.--The above pudding may be baked instead of boiled; it should be put into a buttered mould or tin, and baked for about 2 hours; a smaller one would take about 1-1/4 hour. CITRON.--The fruit of the citron-tree (_Citrus medica_) is acidulous, antiseptic, and antiscorbutic: it excites the appetite, and stops vomiting, and, like lemon-juice, has been greatly extolled in chronic rheumatism, gout, and scurvy. Mixed with cordials, it is used as an antidote to the _machineel poison_. The candied peel is prepared in the same manner as orange or lemon-peel; that is to say, the peel is boiled in water until quite soft, and then suspended in concentrated syrup (in the cold), after which it is either dried in a current of warm air, or in a stove, at a heat not exceeding 120° Fahrenheit. The syrup must be kept fully saturated with sugar by reboiling it once or twice during the process. It may be dusted with powdered lump sugar, if necessary. The citron is supposed to be the Median, Assyrian, or Persian apple of the Greeks. It is described by Risso as having a majestic appearance, its shining leaves and rosy flowers being succeeded by fruit whose beauty and size astonish the observer, whilst their odour gratifies his senses. In China there is an enormous variety, but the citron is cultivated in all orange-growing countries. PLUM-PUDDING OF FRESH FRUIT. 1330. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of suet crust No. 1-1/2 pint of Orleans or any other kind of plum, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar. _Mode_.--Line a pudding-basin with suet crust rolled out to the thickness of about 1/2 inch; fill the basin with the fruit, put in the sugar, and cover with crust. Fold the edges over, and pinch them together, to prevent the juice escaping. Tie over a floured cloth, put the pudding into boiling water, and boil from 2 to 2-1/2 hours. Turn it out of the basin, and serve quickly. _Time_.--2 to 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_, with various kinds of plums, from the beginning of August to the beginning of October. [Illustration: PLUM.] PLUMS.--Almost all the varieties of the cultivated plum are agreeable and refreshing: it is not a nourishing fruit, and if indulged in to excess, when unripe, is almost certain to cause diarrhoea and cholera. Weak and delicate persons had better abstain from plums altogether. The modes of preparing plums are as numerous as the varieties of the fruit. The objections raised against raw plums do not apply to the cooked fruit, which even the invalid may eat in moderation. PLUM TART. 1331. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of good short crust No. 1211, 1-1/2 pint of plums, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar. [Illustration: PLUM TART.] _Mode_.--Line the edges of a deep tart-dish with crust made by recipe No. 1211; fill the dish with plums, and place a small cup or jar, upside down, in the midst of them. Put in the sugar, cover the pie with crust, ornament the edges, and bake in a good oven from 1/2 to 3/4 hour. When puff-crust is preferred to short crust, use that made by recipe No. 1206, and glaze the top by brushing it over with the white of an egg beaten to a stiff froth with a knife; sprinkle over a little sifted sugar, and put the pie in the oven to set the glaze. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_, with various kinds of plums, from the beginning of August to the beginning of October. POTATO PASTY. 1332. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of rump-steak or mutton cutlets, pepper and salt to taste, 1/3 pint of weak broth or gravy, 1 oz. of butter, mashed potatoes. [Illustration: POTATO-PASTY PAN.] _Mode_.--Place the meat, cut in small pieces, at the bottom of the pan; season it with pepper and salt, and add the gravy and butter broken, into small pieces. Put on the perforated plate, with its valve-pipe screwed on, and fill up the whole space to the top of the tube with nicely-mashed potatoes mixed with a little milk, and finish the surface of them in any ornamental manner. If carefully baked, the potatoes will be covered with a delicate brown crust, retaining all the savoury steam rising from the meat. Send it to table as it comes from the oven, with a napkin folded round it. _Time_.--40 to 60 minutes. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. POTATO PUDDING. 1333. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of mashed potatoes, 2 oz. of butter, 2 eggs, 1/4 pint of milk, 3 tablespoonfuls of sherry, 1/4 saltspoonful of salt, the juice and rind of 1 small lemon, 2 oz. of sugar. _Mode_.--Boil sufficient potatoes to make 1/2 lb. when mashed; add to these the butter, eggs, milk, sherry, lemon-juice, and sugar; mince the lemon-peel very finely, and beat all the ingredients well together. Put the pudding into a buttered pie-dish, and bake for rather more than 1/2 hour. To enrich it, add a few pounded almonds, and increase the quantity of eggs and butter. _Time_.--1/2 hour, or rather longer. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO ICE OR GLAZE PASTRY. 1334. To glaze pastry, which is the usual method adopted for meat or raised pies, break an egg, separate the yolk from the white, and beat the former for a short time. Then, when the pastry is nearly baked, take it out of the oven, brush it over with this beaten yolk of egg, and put it back in the oven to set the glaze. 1335. To ice pastry, which is the usual method adopted for fruit tarts and sweet dishes of pastry, put the white of an egg on a plate, and with the blade of a knife beat it to a stiff froth. When the pastry is nearly baked, brush it over with this, and sift over some pounded sugar; put it back into the oven to set the glaze, and, in a few minutes, it will be done. Great care should be taken that the paste does not catch or burn in the oven, which it is very liable to do after the icing is laid on. _Sufficient_--Allow 1 egg and 1-1/8 oz. of sugar to glaze 3 tarts. [Illustration: SUGAR CANES.] SUGAR has been happily called "the honey of reeds." The sugar-cane appears to be originally a native of the East Indies. The Chinese have cultivated it for 2,000 years. The Egyptians, Phoenicians, and Jews knew nothing about it. The Greek physicians are the first who speak of it. It was not till the year 1471 that a Venetian discovered the method of purifying brown sugar and making loaf sugar. He gained an immense fortune by this discovery. Our supplies are now obtained from Barbadoes, Jamaica, Mauritius, Ceylon, the East and West Indies generally, and the United States; but the largest supplies come from Cuba. Sugar is divided into the following classes:--Refined sugar, white clayed, brown clayed, brown raw, and molasses. The sugarcane grows to the height of six, twelve, or even sometimes twenty feet. It is propagated from cuttings, requires much hoeing and weeding, giving employment to thousands upon thousands of slaves in the slave countries, and attains maturity in twelve or thirteen months. When ripe, it is cut down close to the stole, the stems are divided into lengths of about three feet, which are made up into bundles, and carried to the mill, to be crushed between rollers. In the process of crushing, the juice runs down into a reservoir, from which, after a while, it is drawn through a siphon; that is to say, the clear fluid is taken from the scum. This fluid undergoes several processes of drying and refining; the methods varying in different manufactories. There are some large establishments engaged in sugar-refining in the neighbourhoods of Blackwall and Bethnal Green, London. The process is mostly in the hands of German workmen. Sugar is adulterated with fine sand and sawdust. Pure sugar is highly nutritious, adding to the fatty tissue of the body; but it is not easy of digestion. BAKED RAISIN PUDDING. (_Plain and Economical_.) 1336. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 3/4 lb. of stoned raisins, 1/2 lb. of suet, a pinch of salt, 1 oz. of sugar, a little grated nutmeg, milk. _Mode_.--Chop the suet finely; stone the raisins and cut them in halves; mix these with the suet, add the salt, sugar, and grated nutmeg, and moisten the whole with sufficient milk to make it of the consistency of thick batter. Put the pudding into a buttered pie-dish, and bake for 1-1/2 hour, or rather longer. Turn it out of the dish, strew sifted sugar over, and serve. This is a very plain recipe, and suitable where there is a family of children. It, of course, can be much improved by the addition of candied peel, currants, and rather a larger proportion of suet: a few eggs would also make the pudding richer. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. INTRODUCTION OF SUGAR.--Sugar was first known as a drug, and used by the apothecaries, and with them was a most important article. At its first appearance, some said it was heating; others, that it injured the chest; others, that it disposed persons to apoplexy; the truth, however, soon conquered these fancies, and the use of sugar has increased every day, and there is no household in the civilized world which can do without it. BOILED RAISIN PUDDING. (_Plain and Economical_.) 1337. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of stoned raisins, 1/2 lb. of chopped suet, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, milk. _Mode_.--After having stoned the raisins and chopped the suet finely, mix them with the flour, add the salt, and when these dry ingredients are thoroughly mixed, moisten the pudding with sufficient milk to make it into rather a stiff paste. Tie it up in a floured cloth, put it into boiling water, and boil for 4 hours: serve with sifted sugar. This pudding may, also, be made in a long shape, the same as a rolled jam-pudding, and will then not require so long boiling;--2-1/2 hours would then be quite sufficient. _Time_.--Made round, 4 hours; in a long shape, 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 8 or 9 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. BOILED RHUBARB PUDDING. 1338. INGREDIENTS.--4 or 5 sticks of fine rhubarb, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 3/4 lb. of suet-crust No. 1215. _Mode_.--Make a suet-crust with 3/4 lb. of flour, by recipe No. 1215, and line a buttered basin with it. Wash and wipe the rhubarb, and, if old, string it--that is to say, pare off the outside skin. Cut it into inch lengths, fill the basin with it, put in the sugar, and cover with crust. Pinch the edges of the pudding together, tie over it a floured cloth, put it into boiling water, and boil from 2 to 2-1/2 hours. Turn it out of the basin, and serve with a jug of cream and sifted sugar. _Time_.--2 to 2-1/2 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ in spring. RHUBARB TART. 1339. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of puff-paste No. 1206, about 5 sticks of large rhubarb, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar. _Mode_.--Make a puff-crust by recipe No. 1206; line the edges of a deep pie-dish with it, and wash, wipe, and cut the rhubarb into pieces about 1 inch long. Should it be old and tough, string it, that is to say, pare off the outside skin. Pile the fruit high in the dish, as it shrinks very much in the cooking; put in the sugar, cover with crust, ornament the edges, and bake the tart in a well-heated oven from 1/2 to 3/4 hour. If wanted very nice, brush it over with the white of an egg beaten to a stiff froth, then sprinkle on it some sifted sugar, and put it in the oven just to set the glaze: this should be done when the tart is nearly baked. A small quantity of lemon-juice, and a little of the peel minced, are by many persons considered an improvement to the flavour of rhubarb tart. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in spring. [Illustration: RHUBARB.] RHUBARB.--This is one of the most useful of all garden productions that are put into pies and puddings. It was comparatively little known till within the last twenty or thirty years, but it is now cultivated in almost every British garden. The part used is the footstalks of the leaves, which, peeled and cut into small pieces, are put into tarts, either mixed with apples or alone. When quite young, they are much better not peeled. Rhubarb comes in season when apples are going out. The common rhubarb is a native of Asia; the scarlet variety has the finest flavour. Turkey rhubarb, the well-known medicinal drug, is the root of a very elegant plant (_Rheum palmatum_), coming to greatest perfection in Tartary. For culinary purposes, all kinds of rhubarb are the better for being blanched. RAISED PIE OF POULTRY OR GAME. 1340. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 1/2 lb. of butter, 1/2 pint of water, the yolks of 2 eggs, 1/2 teaspoonful of salt (these are for the crust); 1 large fowl or pheasant, a few slices of veal cutlet, a few slices of dressed ham, forcemeat, seasoning of nutmeg, allspice, pepper and salt, gravy. [Illustration: RAISED PIE.] _Mode_.--Make a stiff short crust with the above proportion of butter, flour, water, and eggs, and work it up very smoothly; butter a raised-pie mould, as shown in No. 1190, and line it with the paste. Previously to making the crust, bone the fowl, or whatever bird is intended to be used, lay it, breast downwards, upon a cloth, and season the inside well with pounded mace, allspice, pepper, and salt; then spread over it a layer of forcemeat, then a layer of seasoned veal, and then one of ham, and then another layer of forcemeat, and roll the fowl over, making the skin meet at the back. Line the pie with forcemeat, put in the fowl, and fill up the cavities with slices of seasoned veal and ham and forcemeat; wet the edges of the pie, put on the cover, pinch the edges together with the paste-pincers, and decorate it with leaves; brush it over with beaten yolk of egg, and bake in a moderate oven for 4 hours. In the mean time, make a good strong gravy from the bones, pour it through a funnel into the hole at the top; cover this hole with a small leaf, and the pie, when cold, will be ready for use. Let it be remembered that the gravy must be considerably reduced before it is poured into the pie, as, when cold, it should form a firm jelly, and not be the least degree in a liquid state. This recipe is suitable for all kinds of poultry or game, using one or more birds, according to the size of the pie intended to be made; but the birds must always be boned. Truffles, mushrooms, &c., added to this pie, make it much nicer; and, to enrich it, lard the fleshy parts of the poultry or game with thin strips of bacon. This method of forming raised pies in a mould is generally called a _timbale_, and has the advantage of being more easily made than one where the paste is raised by the hands; the crust, besides, being eatable. (_See_ coloured plate N 1.) _Time_.--Large pie, 4 hours. _Average cost_, 6s. 6d. _Seasonable_, with poultry, all the year; with game, from September to March. RAISED PIE OF VEAL AND HAM. 1341. INGREDIENTS.--3 or 4 lbs. of veal cutlets, a few slices of bacon or ham, seasoning of pepper, salt, nutmeg, and allspice, forcemeat No. 415, 2 lbs. of hot-water paste No. 1217, 1/2 pint of good strong gravy. _Mode_.--To raise the crust for a pie with the hands is a very difficult task, and can only be accomplished by skilled and experienced cooks. The process should be seen to be satisfactorily learnt, and plenty of practice given to the making of raised pies, as by that means only will success be insured. Make a hot-water paste by recipe No. 1217, and from the mass raise the pie with the hands; if this cannot be accomplished, cut out pieces for the top and bottom, and a long piece for the sides; fasten the bottom and side-piece together by means of egg, and pinch the edges well together; then line the pie with forcemeat made by recipe No. 415, put in a layer of veal, and a plentiful seasoning of salt, pepper, nutmeg, and allspice, as, let it be remembered, these pies taste very insipid unless highly seasoned. Over the seasoning place a layer of sliced bacon or cooked ham, and then a layer of forcemeat, veal seasoning, and bacon, and so on until the meat rises to about an inch above the paste; taking care to finish with a layer of forcemeat, to fill all the cavities of the pie, and to lay in the meat firmly and compactly. Brush the top edge of the pie with beaten egg, put on the cover, press the edges, and pinch them round with paste-pincers. Make a hole in the middle of the lid, and ornament the pie with leaves, which should be stuck on with the white of an egg; then brush it all over with the beaten yolk of an egg, and bake the pie in an oven with a soaking heat from 3 to 4 hours. To ascertain when it is done, run a sharp-pointed knife or skewer through the hole at the top into the middle of the pie, and if the meat feels tender, it is sufficiently baked. Have ready about 1/2 pint of very strong gravy, pour it through a funnel into the hole at the top, stop up the hole with a small leaf of baked paste, and put the pie away until wanted for use. Should it acquire too much colour in the baking, cover it with white paper, as the crust should not in the least degree be burnt. Mushrooms, truffles, and many other ingredients, may be added to enrich the flavour of these pies, and the very fleshy parts of the meat may be larded. These pies are more frequently served cold than hot, and form excellent dishes for cold suppers or breakfasts. The cover of the pie is sometimes carefully removed, leaving the perfect edges, and the top decorated with square pieces of very bright aspic jelly: this has an exceedingly pretty effect. _Time_.--About 4 hours. _Average cost_, 6s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for a very large pie. _Seasonable_ from March to October. BAKED RICE PUDDING. I. 1342. INGREDIENTS.--1 small teacupful of rice, 4 eggs, 1 pint of milk, 2 oz. of fresh butter, 2 oz. of beef marrow, 1/4 lb. of currants, 2 tablespoonfuls of brandy, nutmeg, 1/4 lb. of sugar, the rind of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Put the lemon-rind and milk into a stewpan, and let it infuse till the milk is well flavoured with the lemon; in the mean time, boil the rice until tender in water, with a very small quantity of salt, and, when done, let it be thoroughly drained. Beat the eggs, stir to them the milk, which should be strained, the butter, marrow, currants, and remaining ingredients; add the rice, and mix all well together. Line the edges of the dish with puff-paste, put in the pudding, and bake for about 3/4 hour in a slow oven. Slices of candied-peel may be added at pleasure, or Sultana raisins may be substituted for the currants. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for a winter pudding, when fresh fruits are not obtainable. RICE, with proper management in cooking it, forms a very valuable and cheap addition to our farinaceous food, and, in years of scarcity, has been found eminently useful in lessening the consumption of flour. When boiled, it should be so managed that the grains, though soft, should be as little broken and as dry as possible. The water in which it is dressed should only simmer, and not boil hard. Very little water should be used, as the grains absorb a great deal, and, consequently, swell much; and if they take up too much at first, it is difficult to get rid of it. Baking it in puddings is the best mode of preparing it. II. (_Plain and Economical; a nice Pudding for Children_.) 1343. INGREDIENTS.--1 teacupful of rice, 2 tablespoonfuls of moist sugar, 1 quart of milk, 1/2 oz. of butter or 2 small tablespoonfuls of chopped suet, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Wash the rice, put it into a pie-dish with the sugar, pour in the milk, and stir these ingredients well together; then add the butter cut up into very small pieces, or, instead of this, the above proportion of finely-minced suet; grate a little nutmeg over the top, and bake the pudding, in a moderate oven, from 1-1/2 to 2 hours. As the rice is not previously cooked, care must be taken that the pudding be very slowly baked, to give plenty of time for the rice to swell, and for it to be very thoroughly done. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 children. _Seasonable_ at any time. PLAIN BOILED RICE PUDDING. 1344. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of rice. _Mode_.--Wash the rice, tie it in a pudding-cloth, allowing room for the rice to swell, and put it into a saucepan of cold water; boil it gently for 2 hours, and if, after a time, the cloth seems tied too loosely, take the rice up and tighten the cloth. Serve with sweet melted butter, or cold butter and sugar, or stewed fruit, jam, or marmalade; any of which accompaniments are suitable for plain boiled rice. _Time_.--2 hours after the water boils. _Average cost_, 2d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BOILED RICE PUDDING. I. 1345. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of rice, 1-1/2 pint of new milk, 2 oz. of butter, 4 eggs, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 4 large tablespoonfuls of moist sugar, flavouring to taste. _Mode_.--Stew the rice very gently in the above proportion of new milk, and, when it is tender, pour it into a basin; stir in the butter, and let it stand to cool; then beat the eggs, add these to the rice with the sugar, salt, and any flavouring that may be approved, such as nutmeg, powdered cinnamon, grated lemon-peel, essence of bitter almonds, or vanilla. When all is well stirred, put the pudding into a buttered basin, tie it down with a cloth, plunge it into boiling water, and boil for 1-1/4 hour. _Time_.--1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. VARIETIES OF RICE.--Of the varieties of rice brought to our market, that from Bengal is chiefly of the species denominated _cargo_ rice, and is of a coarse reddish-brown cast, but peculiarly sweet and large-grained; it does not readily separate from the husk, but it is preferred by the natives to all the others. _Patua_ rice is more esteemed in Europe, and is of very superior qualify; it is small-grained, rather long and wiry, and is remarkably white. The _Carolina_ rice is considered as the best, and is likewise the dearest in London. II. (_With Dried or Fresh fruit; a nice dish for the Nursery_.) 1346. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of rice, 1 pint of any kind of fresh fruit that may be preferred, or 1/2 lb. of raisins or currants. _Mode_.--Wash the rice, tie it in a cloth, allowing room for it to swell, and put it into a saucepan of cold water; let it boil for an hour, then take it up, untie the cloth, stir in the fruit, and tie it up again tolerably tight, and put it into the water for the remainder of the time. Boil for another hour, or rather longer, and serve with sweet sauce, if made with dried fruit, and with plain sifted sugar and a little cream or milk, if made with fresh fruit. _Time_.--1 hour to boil the rice without the fruit; 1 hour, or longer, afterwards. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 children. _Seasonable_ at any time. Note.--This pudding is very good made with apples: they should be pared cored, and cut into thin slices. BOILED RICE FOR CURRIES, &c. 1347. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of rice, water, salt. _Mode_.--Pick, wash, and soak the rice in plenty of cold water; then have ready a saucepan of boiling water, drop the rice into it, and keep it boiling quickly, with the lid uncovered, until it is tender, but not soft. Take it up, drain it, and put it on a dish before the fire to dry: do not handle it much with a spoon, but shake it about a little with two forks, that it may all be equally dried, and strew over a little salt. It is now ready to serve, and may be heaped lightly on a dish by itself, or be laid round the dish as a border, with a curry or fricassee in the centre. Some cooks smooth the rice with the back of a spoon, and then brush it over with the yolk of an egg, and set it in the oven to colour; but the rice well boiled, white, dry, and with every grain distinct, is by far the more preferable mode of dressing it. During the process of boiling, the rice should be attentively watched, that it be not overdone, as, if this is the case, it will have a mashed and soft appearance. _Time_.--15 to 25 minutes, according to the quality of the rice. _Average cost_, 3d. _Sufficient_ for a large dish of curry. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICE, in the native rough state, with the husk on, is called _paddy_, both in India and America, and it will keep better, and for a much longer time, in this state, than after the husk has been removed; besides which, prepared rice is apt to become dirty from rubbing about in the voyage on board ship, and in the warehouses. It is sometimes brought to England in the shape of paddy, and the husk detached here. Paddy pays less duty than shelled rice. TO BOIL RICE FOR CURRIES, &c. (_Soyer's Recipe_.) 1348. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of the best Carolina rice, 2 quarts of water, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, a little salt. _Mode_.--Wash the rice well in two waters; make 2 quarts of water boiling, and throw the rice into it; boil it until three-parts done, then drain it on a sieve. Butter the bottom and sides of a stewpan, put in the rice, place the lid on tightly, and set it by the side of the fire until the rice is perfectly tender, occasionally shaking the pan to prevent its sticking. Prepared thus, every grain should be separate and white. Either dish it separately, or place it round the curry as a border. _Time_.--15 to 25 minutes. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 2 moderate-sized curries. _Seasonable_ at any time. BUTTERED RICE. 1349. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of rice, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 2 oz. of butter, sugar to taste, grated nutmeg or pounded cinnamon. _Mode_.--Wash and pick the rice, drain and put it into a saucepan with the milk; let it swell gradually, and, when tender, pour off the milk; stir in the butter, sugar, and nutmeg or cinnamon, and, when the butter is thoroughly melted, and the whole is quite hot, serve. After the milk is poured off, be particular that the rice does not burn: to prevent this, do not cease stirring it. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to swell the rice. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICE was held in great esteem by the ancients: they considered it as a very beneficial food for the chest; therefore it was recommended in cases of consumption, and to persons subject to spitting of blood. SAVOURY CASSEROLE OF RICE. Or Rice Border, for Ragouts, Fricassees, &c. (an Entree). 1350. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of rice, 3 pints of weak stock or broth, 2 slices of fat ham, 1 teaspoonful of salt. [Illustration: CASSEROLE OF RICE.] _Mode_.--A casserole of rice, when made in a mould, is not such a difficult operation as when it is moulded by the hand. It is an elegant and inexpensive entrée, as the remains of cold fish, flesh, or fowl may be served as ragoûts, fricassees, &c., inclosed in the casserole. It requires great nicety in its preparation, the principal thing to attend to being the boiling of the rice, as, if this is not sufficiently cooked, the casserole, when moulded, will have a rough appearance, which would entirely spoil it. After having washed the rice in two or three waters, drain it well, and put it into a stewpan with the stock, ham, and salt; cover the pan closely, and let the rice gradually swell over a slow fire, occasionally stirring, to prevent its sticking. When it is quite soft, strain it, pick out the pieces of ham, and, with the back of a large wooden spoon, mash the rice to a perfectly smooth paste. Then well grease a mould (moulds are made purposely for rice borders), and turn it upside down for a minute or two, to drain away the fat, should there be too much; put some rice all round the bottom and sides of it; place a piece of soft bread in the middle, and cover it with rice; press it in equally with the spoon, and let it cool. Then dip the mould into hot water, turn the casserole carefully on to a dish, mark where the lid is to be formed on the top, by making an incision with the point of a knife about an inch from the edge all round, and put it into a _very hot_ oven. Brush it over with a little clarified butter, and bake about 1/2 hour, or rather longer; then carefully remove the lid, which will be formed by the incision having been made all round, and remove the bread, in small pieces, with the point of a penknife, being careful not to injure the casserole. Fill the centre with the ragoût or fricassee, which should be made thick; put on the cover, glaze it, place it in the oven to set the glaze, and serve as hot as possible. The casserole should not be emptied too much, as it is liable to crack from the weight of whatever is put in; and in baking it, let the oven be very hot, or the casserole will probably break. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to swell the rice. _Sufficient_ for 2 moderate-sized casseroles. _Seasonable_ at any time. SWEET CASSEROLE OF RICE (an Entremets). 1351. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of rice, 3 pints of milk, sugar to taste, flavouring of bitter almonds, 3 oz. of butter, the yolks of 3 eggs. _Mode_.--This is made in precisely the same manner as a savoury casserole, only substituting the milk and sugar for the stock and salt. Put the milk into a stewpan, with sufficient essence of bitter almonds to flavour it well; then add the rice, which should be washed, picked, and drained, and let it swell gradually in the milk over a slow fire. When it is tender, stir in the sugar, butter, and yolks of eggs; butter a mould, press in the rice, and proceed in exactly the same manner as in recipe No. 1350. When the casserole is ready, fill it with a compôte of any fruit that may be preferred, or with melted apricot-jam, and serve. _Time_.--From 3/4 to 1 hour to swell the rice, 1/2 to 3/4 hour to bake the casserole. _Average cost_, exclusive of the compôte or jam, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 2 casseroles. _Seasonable_ at any time. FRENCH RICE PUDDING, or GATEAU DE RIZ. 1352. INGREDIENTS.--To every 1/4 lb. of rice allow 1 quart of milk, the rind of 1 lemon, 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, sugar to taste, 4 oz. of butter, 6 eggs, bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Put the milk into a stewpan with the lemon-rind, and let it infuse for 1/2 hour, or until the former is well flavoured; then take out the peel; have ready the rice washed, picked, and drained; put it into the milk, and let it gradually swell over a very slow fire. Stir in the butter, salt, and sugar, and when properly sweetened, add the yolks of the eggs, and then the whites, both of which should be well beaten, and added separately to the rice. Butter a mould, strew in some fine bread crumbs, and let them be spread equally over it; then carefully pour in the rice, and bake the pudding in a _slow_ oven for 1 hour. Turn it out of the mould, and garnish the dish with preserved cherries, or any bright-coloured jelly or jam. This pudding would be exceedingly nice, flavoured with essence of vanilla. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour for the rice to swell; to be baked 1 hour in a slow oven. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BAKED OR BOILED GROUND RICE PUDDING. 1353. INGREDIENTS.--2 pints of milk, 6 tablespoonfuls of ground rice, sugar to taste, 4 eggs, flavouring of lemon-rind, nutmeg, bitter almonds or bay-leaf. _Mode_.--Put 1-1/2 pint of the milk into a stewpan, with any of the above flavourings, and bring it to the boiling-point, and, with the other 1/2 pint of milk, mix the ground rice to a smooth batter; strain the boiling milk to this, and stir over the fire until the mixture is tolerably thick; then pour it into a basin, leave it uncovered, and when nearly or quite cold, sweeten it to taste, and add the eggs, which should be previously well beaten, with a little salt. Put the pudding into a well-buttered basin, tie it down with a cloth, plunge it into boiling water, and boil for 1-1/2 hour. For a baked pudding, proceed in precisely the same manner, only using half the above proportion of ground rice, with the same quantity of all the other ingredients: an hour will bake the pudding in a moderate oven. Stewed fruit, or preserves, or marmalade, may be served with either the boiled or baked pudding, and will be found an improvement. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour to boil, 1 hour to bake. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. ICED RICE PUDDING. 1354. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of rice, 1 quart of milk, 1/2 lb. of sugar, the yolks of 6 eggs, 1 small teaspoonful of essence of vanilla. _Mode_.--Put the rice into a stewpan, with the milk and sugar, and let these simmer over a gentle fire until the rice is sufficiently soft to break up into a smooth mass, and should the milk dry away too much, a little more may be added. Stir the rice occasionally, to prevent its burning, then beat it to a smooth mixture; add the yolks of the eggs, which should be well whisked, and the vanilla (should this flavouring not be liked, essence of bitter almonds may be substituted for it); put this rice custard into the freezing-pot, and proceed as directed in recipe No. 1290. When wanted for table, turn the pudding out of the mould, and pour over the top, and round it, a _compôte_ of oranges, or any other fruit that may be preferred, taking care that the flavouring in the pudding harmonizes well with the fruit that is served with it. _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d.; exclusive of the _compôte_, 1s. 4d. _Seasonable_.--Served all the year round. MINIATURE RICE PUDDINGS. 1355. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of rice, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 2 oz. of fresh butter, 4 eggs, sugar to taste; flavouring of lemon-peel, bitter almonds, or vanilla; a few strips of candied peel. _Mode_.--Let the rice swell in 1 pint of the milk over a slow fire, putting with it a strip of lemon-peel; stir to it the butter and the other 1/2 pint of milk, and let the mixture cool. Then add the well-beaten eggs, and a few drops of essence of almonds or essence of vanilla, whichever may be preferred; butter well some small cups or moulds, line them with a few pieces of candied peel sliced very thin, fill them three parts full, and bake for about 40 minutes; turn them out of the cups on to a white d'oyley, and serve with sweet sauce. The flavouring and candied peel might be omitted, and stewed fruit or preserve served instead, with these puddings. _Time_.--40 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 6 puddings. _Seasonable_ at any time. ARROWROOT SAUCE FOR PUDDINGS. 1356. INGREDIENTS.--2 small teaspoonfuls of arrowroot, 4 dessert-spoonfuls of pounded sugar, the juice of 1 lemon, 1/4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Mix the arrowroot smoothly with the water; put this into a stewpan; add the sugar, strained lemon-juice, and grated nutmeg. Stir these ingredients over the fire until they boil, when the sauce is ready for use. A small quantity of wine, or any liqueur, would very much improve the flavour of this sauce: it is usually served with bread, rice, custard, or any dry pudding that is not very rich. _Time_.--Altogether, 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. CHERRY SAUCE FOR SWEET PUDDINGS. (_German Recipe_.) 1357. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of cherries, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 oz. of butter, 1/2 pint of water, 1 wineglassful of port wine, a little grated lemon-rind, 4 pounded cloves, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Stone the cherries, and pound the kernels in a mortar to a smooth paste; put the butter and flour into a saucepan; stir them over the fire until of a pale brown; then add the cherries, the pounded kernels, the wine, and the water. Simmer these gently for 1/4 hour, or until the cherries are quite cooked, and rub the whole through a hair sieve; add the remaining ingredients, let the sauce boil for another 5 minutes, and serve. This is a delicious sauce to serve with boiled batter pudding, and when thus used, should be sent to table poured over the pudding. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 1d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August. LEMON SAUCE FOR SWEET PUDDINGS. 1358. INGREDIENTS.--The rind and juice of 1 lemon, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1 oz. of butter, 1 large wineglassful of sherry, 1 wineglassful of water, sugar to taste, the yolks of 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Rub the rind of the lemon on to some lumps of sugar; squeeze out the juice, and strain it; put the butter and flour into a saucepan, stir them over the fire, and when of a pale brown, add the wine, water, and strained lemon-juice. Crush the lumps of sugar that were rubbed on the lemon; stir these into the sauce, which should be very sweet. When these ingredients are well mixed, and the sugar is melted, put in the beaten yolks of 4 eggs; keep stirring the sauce until it thickens, when serve. Do not, on any account, allow it to boil, or it will curdle, and be entirely spoiled. _Time_.--Altogether, 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. SOYER'S SAUCE FOR PLUM-PUDDING. 1359. INGREDIENTS.--The yolks of 3 eggs, 1 tablespoonful of powdered sugar, 1 gill of milk, a very little grated lemon-rind, 2 small wineglassfuls of brandy. _Mode_.--Separate the yolks from the whites of 3 eggs, and put the former into a stewpan; add the sugar, milk, and grated lemon-rind, and stir over the fire until the mixture thickens; but do _not_ allow it to _boil_. Put in the brandy; let the sauce stand by the side of the fire, to get quite hot; keep stirring it, and serve in a boat or tureen separately, or pour it over the pudding. _Time_.--Altogether, 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. SWEET SAUCE FOR PUDDINGS. 1360. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter made with milk, 4 heaped teaspoonfuls of pounded sugar, flavouring; of grated lemon-rind, or nutmeg, or cinnamon. _Mode_.--Make 1/2 pint of melted butter by recipe No. 380, omitting the salt; stir in the sugar, add a little grated lemon-rind, nutmeg, or powdered cinnamon, and serve. Previously to making the melted butter, the milk can be flavoured with bitter almonds, by infusing about half a dozen of them in it for about 1/2 hour; the milk should then be strained before it is added to the other ingredients. This simple sauce may be served for children with rice, batter, or bread pudding. _Time_.--Altogether, 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. VANILLA CUSTARD SAUCE, to serve with Puddings. 1361. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of milk, 2 eggs, 2 oz. of sugar, 10 drops of essence of vanilla. _Mode_.--Beat the eggs, sweeten the milk; stir these ingredients well together, and flavour them with essence of vanilla, regulating the proportion of this latter ingredient by the strength of the essence, the size of the eggs, &c. Put the mixture into a small jug, place this jug in a saucepan of boiling water, and stir the sauce _one way_ until it thickens; but do not allow it to boil, or it will instantly curdle. Serve in a boat or tureen separately, with plum, bread, or any kind of dry pudding. Essence of bitter almonds or lemon-rind may be substituted for the vanilla, when they are more in accordance with the flavouring of the pudding with which the sauce is intended to be served. _Time_.--To be stirred in the jug from 8 to 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. AN EXCELLENT WINE SAUCE FOR PUDDINGS. 1362. INGREDIENTS.--The yolks of 4 eggs, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 2 oz. of pounded sugar, 2 oz. of fresh butter, 1/4 saltspoonful of salt, 1/2 pint of sherry or Madeira. _Mode_.--Put the butter and flour into a saucepan, and stir them over the fire until the former thickens; then add the sugar, salt, and wine, and mix these ingredients well together. Separate the yolks from the whites of 4 eggs; beat up the former, and stir them briskly to the sauce; let it remain over the fire until it is on the point of simmering; but do not allow it to boil, or it will instantly curdle. This sauce is delicious with plum, marrow, or bread puddings; but should be served separately, and not poured over the pudding. _Time_.--From 5 to 7 minutes to thicken the butter; about 5 minutes to stir the sauce over the fire. _Average cost_, 1s. 10d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. WINE OR BRANDY SAUCE FOR PUDDINGS. 1363. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of melted butter No. 377, 3 heaped teaspoonfuls of pounded sugar; 1 _large_ wineglassful of port or sherry, or 3/4 of a _small_ glassful of brandy. _Mode_.--Make 1/2 pint of melted butter by recipe No. 377, omitting the salt; then stir in the sugar and wine or spirit in the above proportion, and bring the sauce to the point of boiling. Serve in a boat or tureen separately, and, if liked, pour a little of it over the pudding. To convert this into punch sauce, add to the sherry and brandy a small wineglassful of rum and the juice and grated rind of 1/2 lemon. Liqueurs, such as Maraschino or Curaçoa substituted for the brandy, make excellent sauces. _Time_.--Altogether, 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. WINE SAUCE FOR PUDDINGS. 1364. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of sherry, 1/4 pint of water, the yolks of 6 eggs, 2 oz. of pounded sugar, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel, a few pieces of candied citron cut thin. _Mode_.--Separate the yolks from the whites of 5 eggs; beat them, and put them into a very clean saucepan (if at hand, a lined one is best); add all the other ingredients, place them over a sharp fire, and keep stirring until the sauce begins to thicken; then take it off and serve. If it is allowed to boil, it will be spoiled, as it will immediately curdle. _Time_.--To be stirred over the fire 3 or 4 minutes; but it must not boil. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for a large pudding; allow half this quantity for a moderate-sized one. _Seasonable_ at any time. OPEN TART OF STRAWBERRY OR ANY OTHER KIND OF PRESERVE. [Illustration: OPEN TART.] [Illustration: OPEN-TART MOULD.] 1365. INGREDIENTS.--Trimmings of puff-paste, any kind of jam. _Mode_.--Butter a tart-pan of the shape shown in the engraving, roll out the paste to the thickness of 1/2 an inch, and line the pan with it; prick a few holes at the bottom with a fork, and bake the tart in a brisk oven from 10 to 15 minutes. Let the paste cool a little; then fill it with preserve, place a few stars or leaves on it, which have been previously cut out of the paste and baked, and the tart is ready for table. By making it in this manner, both the flavour and colour of the jam are preserved, which would otherwise be lost, were it baked in the oven on the paste; and, besides, so much jam is not required. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_.--1 tart for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. STRAWBERRY.--The name of this favourite fruit is said to be derived from an ancient custom of putting straw beneath the fruit when it began to ripen, which is very useful to keep it moist and clean. The strawberry belongs to temperate and rather cold climates; and no fruit of these latitudes, that ripens without the aid of artificial heat, is at all comparable with it in point of flavour. The strawberry is widely diffused, being found in most parts of the world, particularly in Europe and America. QUICKLY-MADE PUDDINGS. 1366. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 1/2 lb. of sifted sugar, 1/4 lb. of flour, 1 pint of milk, 5 eggs, a little grated lemon-rind. _Mode_.--Make the milk hot; stir in the butter, and let it cool before the other ingredients are added to it; then stir in the sugar, flour, and eggs, which should be well whisked, and omit the whites of 2; flavour with a little grated lemon-rind, and beat the mixture well. Butter some small cups, rather more than half fill them; bake from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour, according to the size of the puddings, and serve with fruit, custard, or wine sauce, a little of which may be poured over them. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 6 puddings. _Seasonable_ at any time. SAGO PUDDING. 1367. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of milk, 3 tablespoonfuls of sago, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 3 oz. of sugar, 4 eggs, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, grated nutmeg, puff-paste. _Mode_.--Put the milk and lemon-rind into a stewpan, place it by the side of the fire, and let it remain until the milk is well flavoured with the lemon; then strain it, mix with it the sago and sugar, and simmer gently for about 15 minutes. Let the mixture cool a little, and stir to it the eggs, which should be well beaten, and the butter. Line the edges of a pie-dish with puff-paste, pour in the pudding, grate a little nutmeg over the top, and bake from 3/4 to 1 hour. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour, or longer if the oven is very slow. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The above pudding may be boiled instead of baked; but then allow 2 extra tablespoonfuls of sago, and boil the pudding in a buttered basin from 1-1/4 to 1-3/4 hour. SAGO.--Sago is the pith of a species of palm (_Cycas circinalis_). Its form is that of a small round grain. There are two sorts of sago,--the white and the yellow; but their properties are the same. Sago absorbs the liquid in which it is cooked, becomes transparent and soft, and retains its original shape. Its alimentary properties are the same as those of tapioca and arrowroot. SAGO SAUCE FOR SWEET PUDDINGS. 1368. INGREDIENTS.--1 tablespoonful of sago, 1/3 pint of water, 1/4 pint of port or sherry, the rind and juice of 1 small lemon, sugar to taste; when the flavour is liked, a little pounded cinnamon. _Mode_.--Wash the sago in two or three waters; then put it into a saucepan, with the water and lemon-peel; let it simmer gently by the side of the fire for 10 minutes; then take out the lemon-peel, add the remaining ingredients, give one boil, and serve. Be particular to strain the lemon-juice before adding it to the sauce. This, on trial, will be found a delicious accompaniment to various boiled puddings, such as those made of bread, raisins, rice, &c. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. BAKED SEMOLINA PUDDING. 1369. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of semolina, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 12 bitter almonds, 3 oz. of butter, 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Flavour the milk with the bitter almonds, by infusing them in it by the side of the fire for about 1/2 hour; then strain it, and mix with it the semolina, sugar, and butter. Stir these ingredients over the fire for a few minutes; then take them off, and gradually mix in the eggs, which should be well beaten. Butter a pie-dish, line the edges with puff-paste, put in the pudding, and bake in rather a slow oven from 40 to 50 minutes. Serve with custard sauce or stewed fruit, a little of which may be poured over the pudding. _Time_.--40 to 50 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. SEMOLINA.--After vermicelli, semolina is the most useful ingredient that can be used for thickening soups, meat or vegetable, of rich or simple quality. Semolina is softening, light, wholesome, easy of digestion, and adapted to the infant, the aged, and the invalid. That of a clear yellow colour, well dried and newly made, is the fittest for use. TAPIOCA PUDDING. 1370. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of tapioca, 1 quart of milk, 2 oz. of butter, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 4 eggs, flavouring of vanilla, grated lemon-rind, or bitter almonds. _Mode_.--Wash the tapioca, and let it stew gently in the milk by the side of the fire for 1/4 hour, occasionally stirring it; then let it cool a little; mix with it the butter, sugar, and eggs, which should be well beaten, and flavour with either of the above ingredients, putting in about 12 drops of the essence of almonds or vanilla, whichever is preferred. Butter a pie-dish, and line the edges with puff-paste; put in the pudding, and bake in a moderate oven for an hour. If the pudding is boiled, add a little more tapioca, and boil it in a buttered basin 1-1/2 hour. _Time_.--1 hour to bake, 1-1/2 hour to boil. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TAPIOCA.--Tapioca is recommended to the convalescent, as being easy of digestion. It may be used in soup or broth, or mixed with milk or water, and butter. It is excellent food for either the healthy or sick, for the reason that it is so quickly digested without fatigue to the stomach. TARTLETS. 1371. INGREDIENTS.--Trimmings of puff-paste, any jam or marmalade that may be preferred. [Illustration: DISH OF TARTLETS.] _Mode_.--Roll out the paste to the thickness of about 1/2 inch; butter some small round patty-pans, line them with it, and cut off the superfluous paste close to the edge of the pan. Put a small piece of bread into each tartlet (this is to keep them in shape), and bake in a brisk oven for about 10 minutes, or rather longer. When they are done, and are of a nice colour, take the pieces of bread out carefully, and replace them by a spoonful of jam or marmalade. Dish them high on a white d'oyley, piled high in the centre, and serve. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 1d. each. _Sufficient_.--1 lb. of paste will make 2 dishes of tartlets. _Seasonable_ at any time. ROLLED TREACLE PUDDING. 1372. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of suet crust No. 1215, 1 lb. of treacle, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated ginger. _Mode_.--Make, with 1 lb. of flour, a suet crust by recipe No. 1215; roll it out to the thickness of 1/2 inch, and spread the treacle equally over it, leaving a small margin where the paste joins; close the ends securely, tie the pudding in a floured cloth, plunge it into boiling water, and boil for 2 hours. We have inserted this pudding, being economical, and a favourite one with children; it is, of course, only suitable for a nursery, or very plain family dinner. Made with a lard instead of a suet crust, it would be very nice baked, and would be sufficiently done in from 1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Time_.--Boiled pudding, 2 hours; baked pudding, 1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MEAT OR SAUSAGE ROLLS. 1373. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of puff-paste No. 1206, sausage-meat No. 837, the yolk of 1 egg. _Mode_.--Make 1 lb. of puff-paste by recipe No. 1206; roll it out to the thickness of about 1/2 inch, or rather less, and divide it into 8, 10, or 12 squares, according to the size the rolls are intended to be. Place some sausage-meat on one-half of each square, wet the edges of the paste, and fold it over the meat; slightly press the edges together, and trim them neatly with a knife. Brush the rolls over with the yolk of an egg, and bake them in a well-heated oven for about 1/2 hour, or longer should they be very large. The remains of cold chicken and ham, minced and seasoned, as also cold veal or beef, make very good rolls. _Time_.--1/2 hour, or longer if the rolls are large. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_.--1 lb. of paste for 10 or 12 rolls. _Seasonable_, with sausage-meat, from September to March or April. SOMERSETSHIRE PUDDINGS. 1374. INGREDIENTS.--3 eggs, their weight in flour, pounded sugar and butter, flavouring of grated lemon-rind, bitter almonds, or essence of vanilla. _Mode_.--Carefully weigh the various ingredients, by placing on one side of the scales the eggs, and on the other the flour; then the sugar, and then the butter. Warm the butter, and with the hands beat it to a cream; gradually dredge in the flour and pounded sugar, and keep stirring and beating the mixture without ceasing until it is perfectly smooth. Then add the eggs, which should be well whisked, and either of the above flavourings that may be preferred; butter some small cups, rather more than half-fill them, and bake in a brisk oven for about 1/2 hour. Turn them out, dish them on a napkin, and serve custard or wine-sauce with them. A pretty little supper-dish may be made of these puddings cold, by cutting out a portion of the inside with the point of a knife, and putting into the cavity a little whipped cream or delicate preserve, such as apricot, greengage, or very bright marmalade. The paste for these puddings requires a great deal of mixing, as the more it is beaten, the better will the puddings be. When served cold, they are usually called _gâteaux à la Madeleine_. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 puddings. _Seasonable_ at any time. SUET PUDDING, to serve with Roast Meat. 1375. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 6 oz. of finely-chopped suet, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 1/2 saltspoonful of pepper, 1/2 pint of milk or water. _Mode_.--Chop the suet very finely, after freeing it from skin, and mix it well with the flour; add the salt and pepper (this latter ingredient may be omitted if the flavour is not liked), and make the whole into a smooth paste with the above proportion of milk or water. Tie the pudding in a floured cloth, or put it into a buttered basin, and boil from 2-1/2 to 3 hours. To enrich it, substitute 3 beaten eggs for some of the milk or water, and increase the proportion of suet. _Time_.--2-1/2 to 3 hours. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--When there is a joint roasting or baking, this pudding may be boiled in a long shape, and then cut into slices a few minutes before dinner is served: these slices should be laid in the dripping-pan for a minute or two, and then browned before the fire. Most children like this accompaniment to roast meat. Where there is a large family of children, and the means of keeping them are limited, it is a most economical plan to serve up the pudding before the meat: as, in this case, the consumption of the latter article will be much smaller than it otherwise would be. SUSSEX, or HARD DUMPLINGS. 1376. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 pint of water, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Mix the flour and water together to a smooth paste, previously adding a small quantity of salt. Form this into small round dumplings; drop them into boiling water, and boil from 1/2 to 3/4 hour. They may be served with roast or boiled meat; in the latter case they may be cooked with the meat, but should be dropped into the water when it is quite boiling. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Sufficient_ for 10 or 12 dumplings. _Seasonable_ at any time. VERMICELLI PUDDING. 1377. INGREDIENTS.--4 oz. of vermicelli, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 1/2 pint of cream, 3 oz. of butter, 3 oz. of sugar, 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Boil the vermicelli in the milk until it is tender; then stir in the remaining ingredients, omitting the cream, if not obtainable. Flavour the mixture with grated lemon-rind, essence of bitter almonds, or vanilla; butter a pie-dish; line the edges with puff-paste, put in the pudding, and bake in a moderate oven for about 3/4 hour. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. without cream. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. VERMICELLI.--The finest vermicelli comes from Marseilles, Nimes, and Montpellier. It is a nourishing food, and owes its name to its peculiar thread-like form. Vermicelli means, little worms. VICARAGE PUDDING. 1378. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of chopped suet, 1/4 lb. of currants, 1/4 lb. of raisins, 1 tablespoonful of moist sugar, 1/2 teaspoonful of ground ginger, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a basin, having previously stoned the raisins, and washed, picked, and dried the currants; mix well with a clean knife; dip the pudding-cloth into boiling water, wring it out, and put in the mixture. Have ready a saucepan of boiling water, plunge in the pudding, and boil for 3 hours. Turn it out on the dish, and serve with sifted sugar. _Time_.--3 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for a winter pudding. VOL-AU-VENT (an Entree). 1379. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 to 1 lb. of puff-paste No. 1208, fricasseed chickens, rabbits, ragouts, or the remains of cold fish, flaked and warmed in thick white sauce. [Illustration: VOL-AU-VENT.] _Mode_.--Make from 3/4 to 1 lb. of puff-paste, by recipe No. 1208, taking care that it is very evenly rolled out each time, to insure its rising properly; and if the paste is not extremely light, and put into a good hot oven, this cannot be accomplished, and the _vol-au-vent_ will look very badly. Roll out the paste to the thickness of about 1-1/2 inch, and, with a fluted cutter, stamp it out to the desired shape, either round or oval, and, with the point of a small knife, make a slight incision in the paste all round the top, about an inch from the edge, which, when baked, forms the lid. Put the _vol-au-vent_ into a good brisk oven, and keep the door shut for a few minutes after it is put in. Particular attention should he paid to the heating of the oven, for the paste _cannot_ rise without a tolerable degree of heat When of a nice colour, without being scorched, withdraw it from the oven, instantly remove the cover where it was marked, and detach all the soft crumb from the centre: in doing this, be careful not to break the edges of the _vol-au-vent_; but should they look thin in places, stop them with small flakes of the inside paste, stuck on with the white of an egg. This precaution is necessary to prevent the fricassee or ragoût from bursting the case, and so spoiling the appearance of the dish. Fill the _vol-au-vent_ with a rich mince, or fricassee, or ragoût, or the remains of cold fish flaked and warmed in a good white sauce, and do not make them very liquid, for fear of the gravy bursting the crust: replace the lid, and serve. To improve the appearance of the crust, brush it over with the yolk of an egg after it has risen properly.--See coloured plate O1. _Time_.--3/4 hour to bake the _vol-au-vent_. _Average cost_, exclusive of interior, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: SMALL VOL-AU-VENTS.] _Note_.--Small _vol-au-vents_ may be made like those shown in the engraving, and filled with minced veal, chicken, &c. They should be made of the same paste as the larger ones, and stamped out with a small fluted cutter. SWEET VOL-AU-VENT OF PLUMS, APPLES, OR ANY OTHER FRESH FRUIT. 1380. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of puff-paste No. 1208, about 1 pint of fruit compôte. _Mode_.--Make 1/2 lb. of puff-paste by recipe No. 1208, taking care to bake it in a good brisk oven, to draw it up nicely and make it look light. Have ready sufficient stewed fruit, the syrup of which must be boiled down until very thick; fill the _vol-au-vent_ with this, and pile it high in the centre; powder a little sugar over it, and put it back in the oven to glaze, or use a salamander for the purpose: the _vol-au-vent_ is then ready to serve. They may be made with any fruit that is in season, such as rhubarb, oranges, gooseberries, currants, cherries, apples, &c.; but care must be taken not to have the syrup too thin, for fear of its breaking through the crust. _Time_.--1/2 hour to 40 minutes to bake the _vol-au-vent_. _Average cost_, exclusive of the compôte, 1s. 1d. _Sufficient_ for 1 entremets. VOL-AU-VENT OF FRESH STRAWBERRIES WITH WHIPPED CREAM. 1381. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of puff-paste No. 1208, 1 pint of freshly-gathered strawberries, sugar to taste, a plateful of whipped cream. _Mode_.--Make a _vol-au-vent_ case by recipe No. 1379, only not quite so large nor so high as for a savoury one. When nearly done, brush the paste over with the white of an egg, then sprinkle on it some pounded sugar, and put it back in the oven to set the glaze. Remove the interior, or soft crumb, and, at the moment of serving, fill it with the strawberries, which should be picked, and broken up with sufficient sugar to sweeten them nicely. Place a few spoonfuls of whipped cream on the top, and serve. _Time_.--1/2 hour to 40 minutes to bake the _vol-au-vent_. _Average cost_, 2s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 1 _vol-au-vent_. _Seasonable_ in June and July. STRAWBERRY.--Among the Greeks, the name of the strawberry indicated its tenuity, this fruit forming hardly a mouthful. With the Latins, the name reminded one of the delicious perfume of this plant. Both nations were equally fond of it, and applied the same care to its cultivation. Virgil appears to place it in the same rank with flowers; and Ovid gives it a tender epithet, which delicate palates would not disavow. Neither does this luxurious poet forget the wild strawberry, which disappears beneath its modest foliage, but whose presence the scented air reveals. WEST-INDIAN PUDDING. 1382. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of cream, 1/2 lb. of loaf-sugar, 1/2 lb. of Savoy or sponge-cakes, 8 eggs, 3 oz. of preserved green ginger. _Mode_.--Crumble down the cakes, put them into a basin, and pour over them the cream, which should be previously sweetened and brought to the boiling-point; cover the basin, well beat the eggs, and when the cream is soaked up, stir them in. Butter a mould, arrange the ginger round it, pour in the pudding carefully, and tie it down with a cloth; steam or boil it slowly for 1-1/2 hour, and serve with the syrup from the ginger, which should be warmed, and poured over the pudding. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 2s. 8d. Sufficient for 5 or 6 persons. Seasonable at any time. YEAST DUMPLINGS. 1383. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 quartern of dough, boiling water. Mode.--Make a very light dough as for bread, using to mix it, milk, instead of water; divide it into 7 or 8 dumplings; plunge them into boiling water, and boil them for 20 minutes. Serve the instant they are taken up, as they spoil directly, by falling and becoming heavy; and in eating them do not touch them with a knife, but tear them apart with two forks. They may be eaten with meat gravy, or cold butter and sugar, and if not convenient to make the dough at home, a little from the baker's answers as well, only it must be placed for a few minutes near the fire, in a basin with a cloth over it, to let it rise again before it is made into dumplings. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. YEAST consists principally of a substance very similar in composition, and in many of its sensible properties, to gluten; and, when new or fresh, it is inflated and rendered frothy by a large quantity of carbonic acid. When mixed with wort, this substance acts upon the saccharine matter; the temperature rises, carbonic acid is disengaged, and the result is _ale_, which always contains a considerable proportion of alcohol, or spirit. The quantity of yeast employed in brewing ale being small, the saccharine matter is but imperfectly decomposed: hence a considerable portion of it remains in the liquor, and gives it that viscid quality and body for which it is remarkable. The fermenting property of yeast is weakened by boiling for ten minutes, and is entirely destroyed by continuing the boiling. Alcohol poured upon it likewise renders it inert; on which account its power lessens as the alcohol is formed during fermentation. YORKSHIRE PUDDING, to serve with hot Roast Beef. 1384. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of milk, 6 _large_ tablespoonfuls of flour, 3 eggs, 1 saltspoonful of salt. [Illustration: YORKSHIRE PUDDING.] _Mode_.--Put the flour into a basin with the salt, and stir gradually to this enough milk to make it into a stiff batter. When this is perfectly smooth, and all the lumps are well rubbed down, add the remainder of the milk and the eggs, which should be well beaten. Beat the mixture for a few minutes, and pour it into a shallow tin, which has been previously well rubbed with beef dripping. Put the pudding into the oven, and bake it for an hour; then, for another 1/2 hour, place it under the meat, to catch a little of the gravy that flows from it. Cut the pudding into small square pieces, put them on a hot dish, and serve. If the meat is baked, the pudding may at once be placed under it, resting the former on a small three-cornered stand. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVIII. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON CREAMS, JELLIES, SOUFFLÉS, OMELETS, & SWEET DISHES. 1385. CREAMS.--The yellowish-white, opaque fluid, smooth and unctuous to the touch, which separates itself from new milk, and forms a layer on its surface, when removed by skimming, is employed in a variety of culinary preparations. The analyses of the contents of cream have been decided to be, in 100 parts--butter, 3.5; curd, or matter of cheese, 3.5; whey, 92.0. That cream contains an oil, is evinced by its staining clothes in the manner of oil; and when boiled for some time, a little oil floats upon the surface. The thick animal oil which it contains, the well-known _butter_, is separated only by agitation, as in the common process of _churning_, and the cheesy matter remains blended with the whey in the state of _buttermilk_. Of the several kinds of cream, the principal are the Devonshire and Dutch clotted creams, the Costorphin cream, and the Scotch sour cream. The Devonshire cream is produced by nearly boiling the milk in shallow tin vessels over a charcoal fire, and kept in that state until the whole of the cream is thrown up. It is used for eating with fruits and tarts. The cream from Costorphin, a village of that name near Edinburgh, is accelerated in its separation from three or four days' old milk, by a certain degree of heat; and the Dutch clotted cream--a coagulated mass in which a spoon will stand upright--is manufactured from fresh-drawn milk, which is put into a pan, and stirred with a spoon two or three times a day, to prevent the cream from separating from the milk. The Scotch "sour cream" is a misnomer; for it is a material produced without cream. A small tub filled with skimmed milk is put into a larger one, containing hot water, and after remaining there all night, the thin milk (called _wigg_) is drawn off, and the remainder of the contents of the smaller vessel is "sour cream." 1386. JELLIES are not the nourishing food they were at one time considered to be, and many eminent physicians are of opinion that they are less digestible than the flesh, or muscular part of animals; still, when acidulated with lemon-juice and flavoured with wine, they are very suitable for some convalescents. Vegetable jelly is a distinct principle, existing in fruits, which possesses the property of gelatinizing when boiled and cooled; but it is a principle entirely different from the gelatine of animal bodies, although the name of jelly, common to both, sometimes leads to an erroneous idea on that subject. Animal jelly, or gelatine, is glue, whereas vegetable jelly is rather analogous to gum. Liebig places gelatine very low indeed in the scale of usefulness. He says, "Gelatine, which by itself is tasteless, and when eaten, excites nausea, possesses no nutritive value; that, even when accompanied by the savoury constituents of flesh, it is not capable of supporting the vital process, and when added to the usual diet as a substitute for plastic matter, does not increase, but, on the contrary, diminishes the nutritive value of the food, which it renders insufficient in quantity and inferior in quality." It is this substance which is most frequently employed in the manufacture of the jellies supplied by the confectioner; but those prepared at home from calves' feet do possess some nutrition, and are the only sort that should be given to invalids. Isinglass is the purest variety of gelatine, and is prepared from the sounds or swimming-bladders of certain fish, chiefly the sturgeon. From its whiteness it is mostly used for making blanc-mange and similar dishes. 1387. THE WHITE OF EGGS is perhaps the best substance that can be employed in clarifying jelly, as well as some other fluids, for the reason that when albumen (and the white of eggs is nearly pure albumen) is put into a liquid that is muddy, from substances suspended in it, on boiling the liquid, the albumen coagulates in a flocculent manner, and, entangling with it the impurities, rises with them to the surface as a scum, or sinks to the bottom, according to their weight. 1388. SOUFFLES, OMELETS, AND SWEET DISHES, in which eggs form the principal ingredient, demand, for their successful manufacture, an experienced cook. They are the prettiest, but most difficult of all entremets. The most essential thing to insure success is to secure the best ingredients from an honest tradesman. The entremets coming within the above classification, are healthy, nourishing, and pleasant to the taste, and may be eaten with safety by persons of the most delicate stomachs. RECIPES. CHAPTER XXIX. BAKED APPLE CUSTARD. 1389. INGREDIENTS.--1 dozen large apples, moist sugar to taste, 1 small teacupful of cold water, the grated rind of one lemon, 1 pint of milk, 4 eggs, 2 oz. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Peel, cut, and core the apples; put them into a lined saucepan with the cold water, and as they heat, bruise them to a pulp; sweeten with moist sugar, and add the grated lemon-rind. When cold, put the fruit at the bottom of a pie-dish, and pour over it a custard, made with the above proportion of milk, eggs, and sugar; grate a little nutmeg over the top, place the dish in a moderate oven, and bake from 25 to 35 minutes. The above proportions will make rather a large dish. _Time_.--25 to 35 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. BUTTERED APPLES (Sweet Entremets). 1390. INGREDIENTS.--Apple marmalade No. 1395, 6 or 7 good boiling apples, 1/2 pint of water, 6 oz. of sugar, 2 oz. of butter, a little apricot jam. _Mode_.--Pare the apples, and take out the cores without dividing them; boil up the sugar and water for a few minutes; then lay in the apples, and simmer them very gently until tender, taking care not to let them break. Have ready sufficient marmalade made by recipe No. 1395, and flavoured with lemon, to cover the bottom of the dish; arrange the apples on this with a piece of butter placed in each, and in between them a few spoonfuls of apricot jam or marmalade; place the dish in the oven for 10 minutes, then sprinkle over the top sifted sugar; either brown it before the fire or with a salamander, and serve hot. _Time_.--From 20 to 30 minutes to stew the apples very gently, 10 minutes in the oven. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 entremets. _Note_.--The syrup that the apples were boiled in should be saved for another occasion. FLANC OF APPLES, or APPLES IN A RAISED CRUST. _(Sweet Entremets.)_ 1391. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of short crust No. 1211 or 1212, 9 moderate-sized apples, the rind and juice of 1/2 lemon, 1/2 lb. of white sugar, 3/4 pint of water, a few strips of candied citron. _Mode_.--Make a short crust by either of the above recipes; roll it out to the thickness of 1/2 inch, and butter an oval mould; line it with the crust, and press it carefully all round the sides, to obtain the form of the mould, but be particular not to break the paste. Pinch the part that just rises above the mould with the paste-pincers, and fill the case with flour; bake it for about 3/4 hour; then take it out of the oven, remove the flour, put the case back in the oven for another 1/4 hour, and do not allow it to get scorched. It is now ready for the apples, which should be prepared in the following manner: peel, and take out the cores with a small knife, or a cutter for the purpose, without dividing the apples; put them into a small lined saucepan, just capable of holding them, with sugar, water, lemon juice and rind, in the above proportion. Let them simmer very gently until tender; then take out the apples, let them cool, arrange them in the flanc or case, and boil down the syrup until reduced to a thick jelly; pour it over the apples, and garnish them with a few slices of candied citron. 1392. A MORE SIMPLE FLANC may be made by rolling out the paste, cutting the bottom of a round or oval shape, and then a narrow strip for the sides: these should be stuck on with the white of an egg, to the bottom piece, and the flanc then filled with raw fruit, with sufficient sugar to sweeten it nicely. It will not require so long baking as in a mould; but the crust must be made everywhere of an equal thickness, and so perfectly joined, that the juice does not escape. This dish may also be served hot, and should be garnished in the same manner, or a little melted apricot jam may be poured over the apples, which very much improves their flavour. _Time_.--Altogether, 1 hour to bake the flanc from 30 to 40 minutes to stew the apples very gently. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 entremets or side-dish. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLE FRITTERS. 1393. INGREDIENTS.--For the batter, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 oz. of butter, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 2 eggs, milk, apples, hot lard or clarified beef-dripping. _Mode_.--Break the eggs; separate the whites from the yolks, and beat them separately. Put the flour into a basin, stir in the butter, which should be melted to a cream; add the salt, and moisten with sufficient warm milk to make it of a proper consistency, that is to say, a batter that will drop from the spoon. Stir this well, rub down any lumps that may be seen, and add the whites of the eggs, which have been previously well whisked; beat up the batter for a few minutes, and it is ready for use. Now peel and cut the apples into rather thick whole slices, without dividing them, and stamp out the middle of each slice, where the core is, with a cutter. Throw the slices into the batter; have ready a pan of boiling lard or clarified dripping; take out the pieces of apple one by one, put them into the hot lard, and fry a nice brown, turning them--when required. When done, lay them on a piece of blotting-paper before the fire, to absorb the greasy moisture; then dish on a white d'oyley, piled one above the other; strew over them some pounded sugar, and serve very hot. The flavour of the fritters would be very much improved by soaking the pieces of apple in a little wine, mixed with sugar and lemon-juice, for 3 or 4 hours before wanted for table; the batter, also, is better for being mixed some hours before the fritters are made. _Time_.--About 10 minutes to fry them; 5 minutes to drain them. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. ICED APPLES, or APPLE HEDGEHOG. 1394. INGREDIENTS.--About 3 dozen good boiling apples, 1/2 lb. of sugar, 1/2 pint of water, the rind of 1/2 lemon minced very fine, the whites of 2 eggs, 3 tablespoonfuls of pounded sugar, a few sweet almonds. _Mode_.--Peel and core a dozen of the apples without dividing them, and stew them very gently in a lined saucepan with 1/2 lb. of sugar and 1/2 pint of water, and when tender, lift them carefully on to a dish. Have ready the remainder of the apples pared, cored, and cut into thin slices; put them into the same syrup with the lemon-peel, and boil gently until they are reduced to a marmalade: they must be kept stirred, to prevent them from burning. Cover the bottom of a dish with some of the marmalade, and over that a layer of the stewed apples, in the insides of which, and between each, place some of the marmalade; then place another layer of apples, and fill up the cavities with marmalade as before, forming the whole into a raised oval shape. Whip the whites of the eggs to a stiff froth, mix with them the pounded sugar, and cover the apples very smoothly all over with the icing; blanch and cut each almond into 4 or 5 strips; place these strips at equal distances over the icing sticking up; strew over a little rough pounded sugar, and place the dish in a very slow oven, to colour the almonds, and for the apples to get warm through. This entremets may also be served cold, and makes a pretty supper-dish. _Time_.--From 20 to 30 minutes to stew the apples. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. to 2s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. THICK APPLE JELLY OR MARMALADE, for Entremets or Dessert Dishes. 1395. INGREDIENTS.--Apples; to every lb. of pulp allow 3/4 lb. of sugar, 1/2 teaspoonful of minced lemon-peel. [Illustration: APPLE JELLY STUCK WITH ALMONDS.] _Mode_.--Peel, core, and boil the apples with only sufficient water to prevent them from burning; beat them to a pulp, and to every lb. of pulp allow the above proportion of sugar in lumps. Dip the lumps into water; put these into a saucepan, and boil till the syrup is thick and can be well skimmed; then add this syrup to the apple pulp, with the minced lemon-peel, and stir it over a quick fire for about 20 minutes, or until the apples cease to stick to the bottom of the pan. The jelly is then done, and may be poured into moulds which have been previously dipped in water, when it will turn out nicely for dessert or a side-dish; for the latter a little custard should be poured round, and it should be garnished with strips of citron or stuck with blanched almonds. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 3/4 hour to reduce the apples to a pulp; 20 minutes to boil after the sugar is added. _Sufficient._--1-1/2 lb. of apples sufficient for a small mould. _Seasonable_ from July to March; but is best in September, October or November. CLEAR APPLE JELLY. 1396. INGREDIENTS.--2 dozen apples, 1-1/2 pint of spring-water; to every pint of juice allow 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, 1/2 oz. of isinglass, the rind of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and cut the apples into quarters, and boil them, with the lemon-peel, until tender; then strain off the apples, and run the juice through a jelly-bag; put the strained juice, with the sugar and isinglass, which has been previously boiled in 1/2 pint of water, into a lined saucepan or preserving-pan; boil all together for about 1/4 hour, and put the jelly into moulds. When this jelly is nice and clear, and turned out well, it makes a pretty addition to the supper-table, with a little custard or whipped cream round it: the addition of a little lemon-juice improves the flavour, but it is apt to render the jelly muddy and thick. If required to be kept any length of time, rather a larger proportion of sugar must be used. _Time_.--From 1 to 1-1/2 hour to boil the apples; 1/4 hour the jelly. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for a 1-1/2-pint mould. _Seasonable_ from July to March. A PRETTY DISH OF APPLES AND RICE. 1397. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of rice, 1 quart of milk, the rind of 1/2 lemon, sugar to taste, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 8 apples, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 1/4 pint of water, 1/2 pint of boiled custard No. 1423. _Mode_.--Flavour the milk with lemon-rind, by boiling them together for a few minutes; then take out the peel, and put in the rice, with sufficient sugar to sweeten it nicely, and boil gently until the rice is quite soft; then let it cool. In the mean time pare, quarter, and core the apples, and boil them until tender in a syrup made with sugar and water in the above proportion; and, when soft, lift them out on a sieve to drain. Now put a middling-sized gallipot in the centre of a dish; lay the rice all round till the top of the gallipot is reached; smooth the rice with the back of a spoon, and stick the apples into it in rows, one row sloping to the right and the next to the left. Set it in the oven to colour the apples; then, when required for table, remove the gallipot, garnish the rice with preserved fruits, and pour in the middle sufficient custard, made by recipe No. 1423, to be level with the top of the rice, and serve hot. _Time_.--From 20 to 30 minutes to stew the apples; 3/4 hour to simmer the rice; 1/4 hour to bake. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLES A LA PORTUGAISE. 1398. INGREDIENTS.--8 good boiling apples, 1/2 pint of water, 6 oz. of sugar, a layer of apple marmalade No. 1395, 8 preserved cherries, garnishing of apricot jam. _Mode_.--Peel the apples, and, with a vegetable-cutter, push out the cores; boil them in the above proportion of sugar and water, without being too much done, and take care they do not break. Have ready a white apple marmalade, made by recipe No. 1395; cover the bottom of the dish with this, level it, and lay the apples in a sieve to drain, pile them neatly on the marmalade, making them high in the centre, and place a preserved cherry in the middle of each. Garnish with strips of candied citron or apricot jam, and the dish is ready for table. _Time_.--From 20 to SO minutes to stew the apples. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 1 entremets. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLES IN RED JELLY. (_A pretty Supper Dish_.) 1399. INGREDIENTS.--6 good-sized apples, 12 cloves, pounded sugar, 1 lemon, 2 teacupfuls of water, 1 tablespoonful of gelatine, a few drops of prepared cochineal. _Mode_.--Choose rather large apples; peel them and take out the cores, either with a scoop or a small silver knife, and put into each apple 2 cloves and as much sifted sugar as they will hold. Place them, without touching each other, in a large pie-dish; add more white sugar, the juice of 1 lemon, and 2 teacupfuls of water. Bake in the oven, with a dish over them, until they are done. Look at them frequently, and, as each apple is cooked, place it in a glass dish. They must not be left in the oven after they are done, or they will break, and so would spoil the appearance of the dish. When the apples are neatly arranged in the dish without touching each other, strain the liquor in which they have been stewing, into a lined saucepan; add to it the rind of the lemon, and a tablespoonful of gelatine which has been previously dissolved in cold water, and, if not sweet, a little more sugar, and 6 cloves. Boil till quite clear; colour with a few drops of prepared cochineal, and strain the jelly through a double muslin into a jug; let it cool _a little_; then pour it into the dish round the apples. When quite cold, garnish the tops of the apples with a bright-coloured marmalade, a jelly, or the white of an egg, beaten to a strong froth, with a little sifted sugar. _Time_.--From 30 to 50 minutes to bake the apples. _Average cost_, 1s., with the garnishing. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLES AND RICE. _(A Plain Dish.)_ 1400. INGREDIENTS.--8 good sized apples, 3 oz. of butter, the rind of 1/2 lemon minced very fine, 6 oz. of rice, 1-1/2 pint of milk, sugar to taste, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 6 tablespoonfuls of apricot jam. _Mode_.--Peel the apples, halve them, and take out the cores; put them into a stewpan with the butter, and strew sufficient sifted sugar over to sweeten them nicely, and add the minced lemon-peel. Stew the apples very gently until tender, taking care they do not break. Boil the rice, with the milk, sugar, and nutmeg, until soft, and, when thoroughly done, dish it, piled high in the centre; arrange the apples on it, warm the apricot jam, pour it over the whole, and serve hot. _Time_.--About 30 minutes to stew the apples very gently; about 3/4 hour to cook the rice. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLE SNOW. (_A pretty Supper Dish_.) 1401. INGREDIENTS.--10 good-sized apples, the whites of 10 eggs, the rind of 1 lemon, 1/2 lb. of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Peel, core, and cut the apples into quarters, and put them into a saucepan with the lemon-peel and sufficient water to prevent them from burning,--rather less than 1/2 pint. When they are tender, take out the peel, beat them to a pulp, let them cool, and stir them to the whites of the eggs, which should be previously beaten to a strong froth. Add the sifted sugar, and continue the whisking until the mixture becomes quite stiff; and either heap it on a glass dish, or serve it in small glasses. The dish may be garnished with preserved barberries, or strips of bright-coloured jelly; and a dish of custards should be served with it, or a jug of cream. _Time_.--From 30 to 40 minutes to stew the apples. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill a moderate-sized glass dish. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLE SOUFFLE. 1402. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of rice, 1 quart of milk, the rind of 1/2 lemon, sugar to taste, the yolks of 4 eggs, the whites of 6, 1-1/2 oz. of butter, 4 tablespoonfuls of apple marmalade No. 1395. _Mode_.--Boil the milk with the lemon-peel until the former is well flavoured; then strain it, put in the rice, and let it gradually swell over a slow fire, adding sufficient sugar to sweeten it nicely. Then crush the rice to a smooth pulp with the back of a wooden spoon; line the bottom and sides of a round cake-tin with it, and put it into the oven to set; turn it out of the tin carefully, and be careful that the border of rice is firm in every part. Mix with the marmalade the beaten yolks of eggs and the butter, and stir these over the fire until the mixture thickens. Take it off the fire; to this add the whites of the eggs, which should be previously beaten to a strong froth; stir all together, and put it into the rice border. Bake in a moderate oven for about 1/2 hour, or until the soufflé rises very light. It should be watched, and served instantly, or it will immediately fall after it is taken from the oven. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. STEWED APPLES AND CUSTARD. (_A pretty Dish for a Juvenile Supper_.) 1403. INGREDIENTS.--7 good-sized apples, the rind of 1/2 lemon or 4 cloves, 1/2 lb. of sugar, 3/4 pint of water, 1/2 pint of custard No. 1423. _Mode_.--Pare and take out the cores of the apples, without dividing them, and, if possible, leave the stalks on; boil the sugar and water together for 10 minutes; then put in the apples with the lemon-rind or cloves, whichever flavour may be preferred, and simmer gently until they are tender, taking care not to let them break. Dish them neatly on a glass dish, reduce the syrup by boiling it quickly for a few minutes, let it cool a little; then pour it over the apples. Have ready quite 1/2 pint of custard made by recipe No. 1423; pour it round, but not over, the apples when they are quite cold, and the dish is ready for table. A few almonds blanched and cut into strips, and stuck in the apples, would improve their appearance.--See coloured plate Q1. _Time_.--From 20 to 30 minutes to stew the apples. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ to fill a large glass dish. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLE TRIFLE. (_A Supper Dish_.) 1404. INGREDIENTS.--10 good-sized apples, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 6 oz. of pounded sugar, 1/2 pint of milk, 1/2 pint of cream, 2 eggs, whipped cream. _Mode_.--Peel, core, and cut the apples into thin slices, and put them into a saucepan with 2 tablespoonfuls of water, the sugar, and minced lemon-rind. Boil all together until quite tender, and pulp the apples through a sieve; if they should not be quite sweet enough, add a little more sugar, and put them at the bottom of the dish to form a thick layer. Stir together the milk, cream, and eggs, with a little sugar, over the fire, and let the mixture thicken, but do not allow it to reach the boiling-point. When thick, take it off the fire; let it cool a little, then pour it over the apples. Whip some cream with sugar, lemon-peel, &c., the same as for other trifles; heap it high over the custard, and the dish is ready for table. It may be garnished as fancy dictates, with strips of bright apple jelly, slices of citron, &c. _Time_.--From 30 to 40 minutes to stew the apples; 10 minutes to stir the custard over the fire. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized trifle. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APRICOT CREAM. 1405. INGREDIENTS.--12 to 16 ripe apricots, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 1-1/2 pint of milk, the yolks of 8 eggs, 1 oz. of isinglass. _Mode_.--Divide the apricots, take out the stones, and boil them in a syrup made with 1/4 lb. of sugar and 1/4 pint of water, until they form a thin marmalade, which rub through a sieve. Boil the milk with the other 1/4 lb. of sugar, let it cool a little, then mix with it the yolks of eggs which have been previously well beaten; put this mixture into a jug, place this jug in boiling water, and stir it one way over the fire until it thickens; but on no account let it boil. Strain through a sieve, add the isinglass, previously boiled with a small quantity of water, and keep stirring it till nearly cold; then mix the cream with the apricots; stir well, put it into an oiled mould, and, if convenient, set it on ice; at any rate, in a very cool place. It should turn out on the dish without any difficulty. _Time_.--From 20 to 30 minutes to boil the apricots. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ in August, September, and October. _Note_.--In winter-time, when fresh apricots are not obtainable, a little jam may be substituted for them. FLANC OF APRICOTS, or Compote of Apricots in a Raised Crust. _(Sweet Entremets.)_ 1406. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 lb. of short crust No. 1212, from 9 to 12 good-sized apricots, 3/4 pint of water, 1/2 lb. of sugar. _Mode_.--Make a short crust by recipe No. 1212, and line a mould with it as directed in recipe No. 1391. Boil the sugar and water together for 10 minutes; halve the apricots, take out the stones, and simmer them in the syrup until tender; watch them carefully, and take them up the moment they are done, for fear they break. Arrange them neatly in the flanc or case; boil the syrup until reduced to a jelly, pour it over the fruit, and serve either hot or cold. Greengages, plums of all kinds, peaches, &c., may be done in the same manner, as also currants, raspberries, gooseberries, strawberries, &c.; but with the last-named fruits, a little currant-juice added to them will be found an improvement. _Time_.--Altogether, 1 hour to bake the flanc, about 10 minutes to simmer the apricots. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 entremets or side-dish. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September. ARROWROOT BLANC-MANGE. (_An inexpensive Supper Dish_.) 1407. INGREDIENTS.--4 heaped tablespoonfuls of arrowroot, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 3 laurel-leaves or the rind of 1/2 lemon, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Mix to a smooth batter the arrowroot with 1/2 pint of the milk; put the other pint on the fire, with laurel-leaves or lemon-peel, whichever may be preferred, and let the milk steep until it is well flavoured. Then strain the milk, and add it, boiling, to the mixed arrowroot; sweeten it with sifted sugar, and let it boil, stirring it all the time, till it thickens sufficiently to come from the saucepan. Grease a mould with pure salad-oil, pour in the blanc-mange, and when quite set, turn it out on a dish, and pour round it a compôte of any kind of fruit, or garnish it with jam. A tablespoonful of brandy, stirred in just before the blanc-mange is moulded, very much improves the flavour of this sweet dish. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. without the garnishing. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BLANC-MANGE. (_A Supper Dish_.) 1408. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of new milk, 1-1/4 oz. of isinglass, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 1/4 lb. of loaf sugar, 10 bitter almonds, 1/2 oz. of sweet almonds, 1 pint of cream. [Illustration: BLANC-MANGE MOULD.] _Mode_.--Put the milk into a saucepan, with the isinglass, lemon-rind, and sugar, and let these ingredients stand by the side of the fire until the milk is well flavoured; add the almonds, which should be blanched and pounded in a mortar to a paste, and let the milk just boil up; strain it through a fine sieve or muslin into a jug, add the cream, and stir the mixture occasionally until nearly cold. Let it stand for a few minutes, then pour it into the mould, which should be previously oiled with the purest salad-oil, or dipped in cold water. There will be a sediment at the bottom of the jug, which must not be poured into the mould, as, when turned out, it would very much disfigure the appearance of the blanc-mange. This blanc-mange may be made very much richer by using 1-1/2 pint of cream, and melting the isinglass in 1/2 pint of boiling water. The flavour may also be very much varied by adding bay-leaves, laurel-leaves, or essence of vanilla, instead of the lemon-rind and almonds. Noyeau, Maraschino, Curaçoa, or any favourite liqueur, added in small proportions, very much enhances the flavour of this always favourite dish. In turning it out, just loosen the edges of the blanc-mange from the mould, place a dish on it, and turn it quickly over; it should come out easily, and the blanc-mange have a smooth glossy appearance when the mould is oiled, which it frequently has not when it is only dipped in water. It may be garnished as fancy dictates. _Time_.--About 1-1/2 hour to steep the lemon-rind and almonds in the milk. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 3s. 3d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHEAP BLANC-MANGE. 1409. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of sugar, 1 quart of milk, 1-1/2 oz. of isinglass, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 4 laurel-leaves. [Illustration: BLANC-MANGE.] _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a lined saucepan, and boil gently until the isinglass is dissolved; taste it occasionally, to ascertain when it is sufficiently flavoured with the laurel-leaves; then take them out, and keep stirring the mixture over the fire for about 10 minutes. Strain it through a fine sieve into a jug, and, when nearly cold, pour it into a well-oiled mould, omitting the sediment at the bottom. Turn it out carefully on a dish, and garnish with preserves, bright jelly, or a compote of fruit. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. BREAD-AND-BUTTER FRITTERS. 1410. INGREDIENTS.--Batter, 8 slices of bread and butter, 3 or 4 tablespoonfuls of jam. _Mode_.--Make a batter, the same as for apple fritters No. 1393; cut some slices of bread and butter, not very thick; spread half of them with any jam that may he preferred, and cover with the other slices; slightly press them together, and cut them out in square, long, or round pieces. Dip them in the batter, and fry in boiling lard for about 10 minutes; drain them before the fire on a piece of blotting-paper or cloth. Dish them, sprinkle over sifted sugar, and serve. _Time_.--About 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE THE STOCK FOR JELLY, AND TO CLARIFY IT. 1411. INGREDIENTS.--2 calf's feet, 6 pints of water. [Illustration: JELLY-MOULD.] [Illustration: JELLY-BAG.] _Mode_.--The stock for jellies should always be made the day before it is required for use, as the liquor has time to cool, and the fat can be so much more easily and effectually removed when thoroughly set. Procure from the butcher's 2 nice calf's feet: scald them, to take off the hair; slit them in two, remove the fat from between the claws, and wash the feet well in warm water; put them into a stewpan, with the above proportion of cold water, bring it gradually to boil, and remove every particle of scum as it rises. When it is well skimmed, boil it very gently for 6 or 7 hours, or until the liquor is reduced rather more than half; then strain it through a sieve into a basin, and put it in a cool place to set. As the liquor is strained, measure it, to ascertain the proportion for the jelly, allowing something for the sediment and fat at the top. To clarify it, carefully remove all the fat from the top, pour over a little warm water, to wash away any that may remain, and wipe the jelly with a clean cloth; remove the jelly from the sediment, put it into a saucepan, and, supposing the quantity to be a quart, add to it 6 oz. of loaf sugar, the shells and well-whisked whites of 5 eggs, and stir these ingredients together cold; set the saucepan on the fire, but _do not stir the jelly after it begins to warm_. Let it boil about 10 minutes after it rises to a head, then throw in a teacupful of cold water; let it boil 5 minutes longer, then take the saucepan off, cover it closely, and let it remain 1/2 hour near the fire. Dip the jelly-bag into hot water, wring it out quite dry, and fasten it on to a stand or the back of a chair, which must be placed near the fire, to prevent the jelly from setting before it has run through the bag. Place a basin underneath to receive the jelly; then pour it into the bag, and should it not be clear the first time, run it through the bag again. This stock is the foundation of all _really good_ jellies, which may be varied in innumerable ways, by colouring and flavouring with liqueurs, and by moulding it with fresh and preserved fruits. To insure the jelly being firm when turned out, 1/2 oz. of isinglass clarified might be added to the above proportion of stock. Substitutes for calf's feet are now frequently used in making jellies, which lessen the expense and trouble in preparing this favourite dish; isinglass and gelatine being two of the principal materials employed; but, although they may _look_ as nicely as jellies made from good stock, they are never so delicate, having very often an unpleasant flavour, somewhat resembling glue, particularly when made with gelatine. _Time_.--About 6 hours to boil the feet for the stock; to clarify it,--1/4 hour to boil, 1/2 hour to stand in the saucepan covered. _Average cost_.--Calf's feet may be purchased for 6d. each when veal is in full season, but more expensive when it is scarce. _Sufficient_.--2 calf's feet should make 1 quart of stock. _Seasonable_ from March to October, but may be had all the year. HOW TO MAKE A JELLY-BAG.--The very stout flannel called double-mill, used for ironing-blankets, is the best material for a jelly-bag: those of home manufacture are the only ones to be relied on for thoroughly clearing the jelly. Care should be taken that the seam of the bag be stitched twice, to secure it against unequal filtration. The most convenient mode of using the big is to tie it upon a hoop the exact size of the outside of its mouth; and, to do this, strings should be sewn round it at equal distances. The jelly-bag may, of coarse, be made any size; but one of twelve or fourteen inches deep, and seven or eight across the mouth, will be sufficient for ordinary use. The form of a jelly-bag is the fool's cap. COW-HEEL STOCK FOR JELLIES. (More Economical than Calf's Feet.) 1412. INGREDIENTS.--2 cow-heels, 3 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Procure 2 heels that have only been scalded, and not boiled; split them in two, and remove the fat between the claws; wash them well in warm water, and put them into a saucepan with the above proportion of cold water; bring it gradually to boil, remove all the scum as it rises, and simmer the heels gently from 7 to 8 hours, or until the liquor is reduced one-half; then strain it into a basin, measuring the quantity, and put it in a cool place. Clarify it in the same manner as calf's-feet stock No. 1411, using, with the other ingredients, about 1/2 oz. of isinglass to each quart. This stock should be made the day before it is required for use. Two dozen shank-bones of mutton, boiled for 6 or 7 hours, yield a quart of strong firm stock. They should be put on in 2 quarts of water, which should be reduced one-half. Make this also the day before it is required. _Time_.--7 to 8 hours to boil the cow-heels, 6 to 7 hours to boil the shank-bones. _Average cost_, from 4d. to 6d. each. _Sufficient_.--2 cow-heels should make 3 pints of stock. _Seasonable_ at any time. ISINGLASS OR GELATINE JELLY. (_Substitutes for Calf's Feet_.) 1413. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of isinglass or gelatine, 2 quarts of water. _Mode_.--Put the isinglass or gelatine into a saucepan with the above proportion of cold water; bring it quickly to boil, and let it boil very fast, until the liquor is reduced one-half. Carefully remove the scum as it rises, then strain it through a jelly-bag, and it will be ready for use. If not required very clear, it may be merely strained through a fine sieve, instead of being run through a bag. Rather more than 1/2 oz. of isinglass is about the proper quantity to use for a quart of strong calf's-feet stock, and rather more than 2 oz. for the same quantity of fruit juice. As isinglass varies so much in quality and strength, it is difficult to give the exact proportions. The larger the mould, the stiffer should be the jelly; and where there is no ice, more isinglass must be used than if the mixture were frozen. This forms a stock for all kinds of jellies, which may be flavoured in many ways. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Sufficient_, with wine, syrup, fruit, &c., to fill two moderate-sized moulds. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--The above, when boiled, should be perfectly clear, and may be mixed warm with wine, flavourings, fruits, &c., and then run through the bag. ISINGLASS.--The best isinglass is brought from Russia; some of an inferior kind is brought from North and South America and the East Indies: the several varieties may be had from the wholesale dealers in isinglass in London. In choosing isinglass for domestic use, select that which is whitest, has no unpleasant odour, and which dissolves most readily in water. The inferior kinds are used for fining beer, and similar purposes. Isinglass is much adulterated: to test its purity, take a few threads of the substance, drop some into boiling water, some into cold water, and some into vinegar. In the boiling water the isinglass will dissolve, in cold water it will become white and "cloudy," and in vinegar it will swell and become jelly-like. If the isinglass is adulterated with gelatine (that is to say, the commoner sorts of gelatine,--for isinglass is classed amongst gelatines, of all which varieties it is the very purest and best), in boiling water the gelatine will not so completely dissolve as the isinglass; in cold water it becomes clear and jelly-like; and in vinegar it will harden. HOW TO MOULD BOTTLED JELLIES. 1414. Uncork the bottle; place it in a saucepan of hot water until the jelly is reduced to a liquid state; taste it, to ascertain whether it is sufficiently flavoured, and if not, add a little wine. Pour the jelly into moulds which have been soaked in water; let it set, and turn it out by placing the mould in hot water for a minute; then wipe the outside, put a dish on the top, and turn it over quickly. The jelly should then slip easily away from the mould, and be quite firm. It may be garnished as taste dictates. TO CLARIFY SYRUP FOR JELLIES. 1415. INGREDIENTS.--To every quart of water allow 2 lbs. of loaf sugar; the white of 1 egg. _Mode_.--Put the sugar and water into a stewpan; set it on the fire, and, when the sugar is dissolved, add the white of the egg, whipped up with a little water. Whisk the whole well together, and simmer very gently until it has thrown up all the scum. Take this off as it rises, strain the syrup through a fine sieve or cloth into a basin, and keep it for use. CALF'S-FEET JELLY. 1416. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of calf's-feet stock No. 1411, 1/2 lb. of sugar, 1/2 pint of sherry, 1 glass of brandy, the shells and whites of 5 eggs, the rind and juice of 2 lemons, 1/2 oz. of isinglass. _Mode_.--Prepare the stock as directed in recipe No. 1411, taking care to leave the sediment, and to remove all the fat from the surface. Put it into a saucepan, cold, without clarifying it; add the remaining ingredients, and stir them well together before the saucepan is placed on the fire. Then simmer the mixture gently for 1/4 hour, _but do not stir it after it begins to warm_. Throw in a teacupful of cold water, boil for another 5 minutes, and keep the saucepan covered by the side of the fire for about 1/2 hour, but do not let it boil again. In simmering, the head or scum may be carefully removed as it rises; but particular attention must be given to the jelly, that it be not stirred in the slightest degree after it is heated. The isinglass should be added when the jelly begins to boil: this assists to clear it, and makes it firmer for turning out. Wring out a jelly-bag in hot water; fasten it on to a stand, or the back of a chair; place it near the fire with a basin underneath it, and run the jelly through it. Should it not be perfectly clear the first time, repeat the process until the desired brilliancy is obtained. Soak the moulds in water, drain them for half a second, pour in the jelly, and put it in a cool place to set. If ice is at hand, surround the moulds with it, and the jelly will set sooner, and be firmer when turned out. In summer it is necessary to have ice in which to put the moulds, or the cook will be, very likely, disappointed, by her jellies being in too liquid a state to turn out properly, unless a great deal of isinglass is used. When wanted for table, dip the moulds in hot water for a minute, wipe the outside with a cloth, lay a dish on the top of the mould, turn it quickly over, and the jelly should slip out easily. It is sometimes served broken into square lumps, and piled high in glasses. Earthenware moulds are preferable to those of pewter or tin, for red jellies, the colour and transparency of the composition being often spoiled by using the latter. [Illustration: JELLY-MOULD.] To make this jelly more economically, raisin wine may be substituted for the sherry and brandy, and the stock made from cow-heels, instead of calf's feet. _Time_.--20 minutes to simmer the jelly, 1/2 hour to stand covered. _Average cost_, reckoning the feet at 6d. each, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill two 1-1/2-pint moulds. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--As lemon-juice, unless carefully strained, is liable to make the jelly muddy, see that it is clear before it is added to the other ingredients. Omit the brandy when the flavour is objected to. SHERRY.--There are several kinds of sherry, as pale and brown, and there are various degrees of each. Sherry is, in general, of an amber-colour, and, when good, has a fine aromatic odour, with something of the agreeable bitterness of the peach kernel. When new, it is harsh and fiery, and requires to be mellowed in the wood for four or five years. Sherry has of late got much into fashion in England, from the idea that it is more free from acid than other wines; but some careful experiments on wines do not fully confirm this opinion. CANNELONS, or FRIED PUFFS. (_Sweet Entremets_.) 1417. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of puff-paste No. 1205; apricot, or any kind of preserve that may be preferred; hot lard. _Mode_.--Cannelons which are made of puff-paste rolled very thin, with jam inclosed, and cut out in long narrow rolls or puffs, make a very pretty and elegant dish. Make some good puff-paste, by recipe No. 1205; roll it out very thin, and cut it into pieces of an equal size, about 2 inches wide and 8 inches long; place upon each piece a spoonful of jam, wet the edges with the white of egg, and fold the paste over _twice;_ slightly press the edges together, that the jam may not escape in the frying; and when all are prepared, fry them in boiling lard until of a nice brown, letting them remain by the side of the fire after they are coloured, that the paste may be thoroughly done. Drain them before the fire, dish on a d'oyley, sprinkle over them sifted sugar, and serve. These cannelons are very delicious made with fresh instead of preserved fruit, such as strawberries, raspberries, or currants: it should be laid in the paste, plenty of pounded sugar sprinkled over, and folded and fried in the same manner as stated above. _Time_.--About 10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_,--1/2 lb. of paste for a moderate-sized dish of cannelons. _Seasonable_, with jam, at any time. CHARLOTTE-AUX-POMMES. 1418. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of rather stale bread 1/2 inch thick, clarified butter, apple marmalade made by recipe No. 1395, with about 2 dozen apples, 1/2 glass of sherry. [Illustration: CHARLOTTE-AUX-POMMES.] _Mode_.--Cut a slice of bread the same shape as the bottom of a plain round mould, which has been well buttered, and a few strips the height of the mould, and about 1-1/2 inch wide; dip the bread in clarified butter (or spread it with cold butter, if not wanted quite so rich); place the round piece at the bottom of the mould, and set the narrow strips up the sides of it, overlapping each other a little, that no juice from the apples may escape, and that they may hold firmly to the mould. Brush the _interior_ over with white of egg (this will assist to make the case firmer); fill it with apple marmalade made by recipe No. 1395, with the addition of a little sherry, and cover them with a round piece of bread, also brushed over with egg, the same as the bottom; slightly press the bread down, to make it adhere to the other pieces; put a plate on the top, and bake the _charlotte_ in a brisk oven, of a light colour. Turn it out on the dish, strew sifted sugar over the top, and pour round it a little melted apricot jam. _Time_.--40 to 50 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. AN EASY METHOD OF MAKING A CHARLOTTE-AUX-POMMES. 1419. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1/4 lb. of powdered sugar, 1/2 teaspoonful of baking-powder, 1 egg, milk, 1 glass of raisin-wine, apple marmalade No. 1395, 1/4 pint of cream, 2 dessertspoonfuls of pounded sugar, 2 tablespoonfuls of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Make a cake with the flour, butter, sugar, and baking-powder; moisten with the egg and sufficient milk to make it the proper consistency, and bake it in a round tin. When cold, scoop out the middle, leaving a good thickness all round the sides, to prevent them breaking; take some of the scooped-out pieces, which should be trimmed into neat slices; lay them in the cake, and pour over sufficient raisin-wine, with the addition of a little brandy, if approved, to soak them well. Have ready some apple marmalade, made by recipe No. 1395; place a layer of this over the soaked cake, then a layer of cake and a layer of apples; whip the cream to a froth, mixing with it the sugar and lemon-juice; pile it on the top of the _charlotte_, and garnish it with pieces of clear apple jelly. This dish is served cold, but may be eaten hot, by omitting the cream, and merely garnishing the top with bright jelly just before it is sent to table. _Time_.--1 hour to bake the cake. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. A VERY SIMPLE APPLE CHARLOTTE. 1420. INGREDIENTS.--9 slices of bread and butter, about 6 good-sized apples, 1 tablespoonful of minced lemon-peel, 2 tablespoonfuls of juice, moist sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Butter a pie-dish; place a layer of bread and butter, without the crust, at the bottom; then a layer of apples, pared, cored, and cut into thin slices; sprinkle over these a portion of the lemon-peel and juice, and sweeten with moist sugar. Place another layer of bread and butter, and then one of apples, proceeding in this manner until the dish is full; then cover it up with the peel of the apples, to preserve the top from browning or burning; bake in a brisk oven for rather more than 3/4 hour; torn the charlotte on a dish, sprinkle sifted sugar over, and serve. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. CHARLOTTE RUSSE. (_An Elegant Sweet Entremets_.) 1421. INGREDIENTS.--About 18 Savoy biscuits, 3/4 pint of cream, flavouring of vanilla, liqueurs, or wine, 1 tablespoonful of pounded sugar, 1/2 oz. of isinglass. _Mode_.--Procure about 18 Savoy biscuits, or ladies'-fingers, as they are sometimes called; brush the edges of them with the white of an egg, and line the bottom of a plain round mould, placing them like a star or rosette. Stand them upright all round the edge; carefully put them so closely together that the white of the egg connects them firmly, and place this case in the oven for about 5 minutes, just to dry the egg. Whisk the cream to a stiff froth, with the sugar, flavouring, and melted isinglass; fill the charlotte with it, cover with a slice of sponge-cake cut in the shape of the mould; place it in ice, where let it remain till ready for table; then turn it on a dish, remove the mould, and serve. 1 tablespoonful of liqueur of any kind, or 4 tablespoonfuls of wine, would nicely flavour the above proportion of cream. For arranging the biscuits in the mould, cut them to the shape required, so that they fit in nicely, and level them with the mould at the top, that, when turned out, there may be something firm to rest upon. Great care and attention is required in the turning out of this dish, that the cream does not burst the case; and the edges of the biscuits must have the smallest quantity of egg brushed over them, or it would stick to the mould, and so prevent the charlotte from coming away properly. _Time_.--5 minutes in the oven. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 1 charlotte. _Seasonable_ at any time. CREAM A LA VALOIS. 1422. INGREDIENTS.--4 sponge-cakes, jam, 3/4 pint of cream, sugar to taste, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 1/4 glass of sherry, 1-1/4 oz. of isinglass. _Mode_.--Cut the sponge-cakes into thin slices; place two together, with preserve between them, and pour over them a small quantity of sherry mixed with a little brandy. Sweeten and flavour the cream with the lemon-juice and sherry; add the isinglass, which should be dissolved in a little water, and beat up the cream well. Place a little in an oiled mould; arrange the pieces of cake in the cream; then fill the mould with the remainder; let it cool, and turn it out on a dish. By oiling the mould, the cream will have a much smoother appearance, and will turn out more easily than when merely dipped in cold water. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill a 1-1/2 pint mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. BOILED CUSTARDS. 1423. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 5 eggs, 3 oz. of loaf sugar, 3 laurel-leaves, or the rind of 4 lemon, or a few drops of essence of vanilla, 1 tablespoonful of brandy. [Illustration: CUSTARDS IN GLASSES.] _Mode_.--Put the milk into a lined saucepan, with the sugar, and whichever of the above flavourings may be preferred (the lemon-rind flavours custards most deliciously), and let the milk steep by the side of the fire until it is well flavoured. Bring it to the point of boiling, then strain it into a basin; whisk the eggs well, and, when the milk has cooled a little, stir in the eggs, and _strain_ this mixture into a jug. Place this jug in a saucepan of boiling water over the fire; keep stirring the custard _one way_ until it thickens; but on no account allow it to reach the boiling-point, as it will instantly curdle and be full of lumps. Take it off the fire, stir in the brandy, and, when this is well mixed with the custard, pour it into glasses, which should be rather more than three-parts full; grate a little nutmeg over the top, and the dish is ready for table. To make custards look and eat better, ducks' eggs should be used, when obtainable; they add very much to the flavour and richness, and so many are not required as of the ordinary eggs, 4 ducks' eggs to the pint of milk making a delicious custard. When desired extremely rich and good, cream should be substituted for the milk, and double the quantity of eggs used, to those mentioned, omitting the whites. _Time_. 1/2 hour to infuse the lemon-rind, about 10 minutes to stir the custard. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ to fill 8 custard-glasses. _Seasonable_ at any time. GINGER APPLES. (_A pretty Supper or Dessert Dish_.) 1424. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 oz. of whole ginger, 1/4 pint of whiskey, 3 lbs. of apples, 2 lbs. of white sugar, the juice of 2 lemons. _Mode_.--Bruise the ginger, put it into a small jar, pour over sufficient whiskey to cover it, and let it remain for 3 days; then cut the apples into thin slices, after paring and coring them; add the sugar and the lemon-juice, which should he strained; and simmer all together _very gently_ until the apples are transparent, but not broken. Serve cold, and garnish the dish with slices of candied lemon-peel or preserved ginger. _Time_.--3 days to soak the ginger; about 3/4 hour to simmer the apples very gently. _Average cost_, 2s, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 3 dishes. _Seasonable_ from July to March. FRENCH PANCAKES. 1425. INGREDIENTS.--2 eggs, 2 oz. of butter, 2 oz. of sifted sugar, 2 oz. of flour, 1/2 pint of new milk. _Mode_.--Beat the eggs thoroughly, and put them into a basin with the butter, which should be beaten to a cream; stir in the sugar and flour, and when these ingredients are well mixed, add the milk; keep stirring and beating the mixture for a few minutes; put it on buttered plates, and bake in a quick oven for 20 minutes. Serve with a cut lemon and sifted sugar, or pile the pancakes high on a dish, with a layer of preserve or marmalade between each. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. DUTCH FLUMMERY. 1426. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 oz. of isinglass, the rind and juice of 1 lemon, 1 pint of water, 4 eggs, 1 pint of sherry, Madeira, or raisin-wine; sifted sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Put the water, isinglass, and lemon-rind into a lined saucepan, and simmer gently until the isinglass is dissolved; strain this into a basin, stir in the eggs, which should be well beaten, the lemon-juice, which should be strained, and the wine; sweeten to taste with pounded sugar, mix all well together, pour it into a jug, set this jug in a saucepan of boiling water over the fire, and keep stirring it one way until it thickens; but _take care that it does not boil_. Strain it into a mould that has been oiled or laid in water for a short time, and put it in a cool place to set. A tablespoonful of brandy stirred in just before it is poured into the mould, improves the flavour of this dish: it is better if made the day before it is required for table. _Time_.--1/4 hour to simmer the isinglass; about 1/4 hour to stir the mixture over the fire. _Average cost_, 4s. 6d., if made with sherry; less with raisin-wine. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. PALE SHERRIES are made from the same grapes as brown. The latter are coloured by an addition of some cheap must, or wine which has been boiled till it has acquired a deep-brown tint. Pale sherries were, some time ago, preferred in England, being supposed most pure; but the brown are preferred by many people. The inferior sherries exported to England are often mixed with a cheap and light wine called Moguer, and are strengthened in the making by brandy; but too frequently they are adulterated by the London dealers. CHOCOLATE SOUFFLE. 1427. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 3 teaspoonfuls of pounded sugar, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 3 oz. of the best chocolate. _Mode_.--Break the eggs, separating the whites from the yolks, and put them into different basins; add to the yolks the sugar, flour, and chocolate, which should be very finely grated, and stir these ingredients for 5 minutes. Then well whisk the whites of the eggs in the other basin, until they are stiff, and, when firm, mix lightly with the yolks, till the whole forms a smooth and light substance; butter a round cake-tin, put in the mixture, and bake in a moderate oven from 15 to 20 minutes. Pin a white napkin round the tin, strew sifted sugar over the top of the soufflé, and send it immediately to table. The proper appearance of this dish depends entirely on the expedition with which it is served, and some cooks, to preserve its lightness, hold a salamander over the soufflé until it is placed on the table. If allowed to stand after it comes from the oven, it will be entirely spoiled, as it falls almost immediately. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for a moderate-sized soufflé. _Seasonable_ at any time. DARIOLES A LA VANILLE. (_Sweet Entremets_.) 1428. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of milk, 1/2 pint of cream, 2 oz. of flour, 3 oz. of pounded sugar, 6 eggs, 2 oz. of butter, puff-paste, flavouring of essence of vanilla. _Mode_.--Mix the flour to a smooth batter, with the milk; stir in the cream, sugar, the eggs, which should be well whisked, and the butter, which should be beaten to a cream. Put in some essence of vanilla, drop by drop, until the mixture is well flavoured; line some dariole-moulds with puff-paste, three-parts fill them with the batter, and bake in a good oven from 25 to 35 minutes. Turn them out of the moulds on a dish, without breaking them; strew over sifted sugar, and serve. The flavouring of the darioles may be varied by substituting lemon, cinnamon, or almonds, for the vanilla. _Time_.--25 to 35 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Sufficient_ to fill 6 or 7 dariole-moulds. _Seasonable_ at any time. CURRANT FRITTERS. 1429. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of milk, 2 tablespoonfuls of flour, 4 eggs, 3 tablespoonfuls of boiled rice, 3 tablespoonfuls of currants, sugar to taste, a very little grated nutmeg, hot lard or clarified dripping. _Mode_.--Put the milk into a basin with the flour, which should previously be rubbed to a smooth batter with a little cold milk; stir these ingredients together; add the well-whisked eggs, the rice, currants, sugar, and nutmeg. Beat the mixture for a few minutes, and, if not sufficiently thick, add a little more boiled rice; drop it, in small quantities, into a pan of boiling lard or clarified dripping; fry the fritters a nice brown, and, when done, drain them on a piece of blotting-paper, before the fire. Pile them on a white d'oyley, strew over sifted sugar, and serve them very hot. Send a cut lemon to table with them. _Time_.--From 8 to 10 minutes to fry the fritters. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHOCOLATE CREAM. 1430. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of grated chocolate, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 1-1/2 pint of cream, 1/2 oz. of clarified isinglass, the yolks of 6 eggs. [Illustration: CREAM-MOULD.] _Mode_.--Beat the yolks of the eggs well; put them into a basin with the grated chocolate, the sugar, and 1 pint of the cream; stir these ingredients well together, pour them into a jug, and set this jug in a saucepan of boiling water; stir it one way until the mixture thickens, but _do not allow it to boil_, or it will curdle. Strain the cream through a sieve into a basin; stir in the isinglass and the other 1/2 pint of cream, which should be well whipped; mix all well together, and pour it into a mould which has been previously oiled with the purest salad-oil, and, if at hand, set it in ice until wanted for table. _Time_.--About 10 minutes to stir the mixture over the fire. _Average cost_, 4s. 6d, with cream at 1s. per pint. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. GENEVA WAFERS. 1431. INGREDIENTS.--2 eggs, 3 oz. of butter, 3 oz. of flour, 3 oz. of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Well whisk the eggs; put them into a basin, and stir to them the butter, which should be beaten to a cream; add the flour and sifted sugar gradually, and then mix all well together. Butter a baking-sheet, and drop on it a teaspoonful of the mixture at a time, leaving a space between each. Bake in a cool oven; watch the pieces of paste, and, when half done, roll them up like wafers, and put in a small wedge of bread or piece of wood, to keep them in shape. Return them to the oven until crisp. Before serving, remove the bread, put a spoonful of preserve in the widest end, and fill up with whipped cream. This is a very pretty and ornamental dish for the supper-table, and is very nice and very easily made. _Time_.--Altogether 20 to 25 minutes. _Average cost_, exclusive of the preserve and cream, 7d. _Sufficient_ for a nice-sized dish. _Seasonable_ at any time. GINGER CREAM. 1432. INGREDIENTS.--The yolks of 4 eggs, 1 pint of cream, 3 oz. of preserved ginger, 2 dessertspoonfuls of syrup, sifted sugar to taste, 1 oz. of isinglass. _Mode_.--Slice the ginger finely; put it into a basin with the syrup, the well-beaten yolks of eggs, and the cream; mix these ingredients well together, and stir them over the fire for about 10 minutes, or until the mixture thickens; then take it off the fire, whisk till nearly cold, sweeten to taste, add the isinglass, which should be melted and strained, and serve the cream in a glass dish. It may be garnished with slices of preserved ginger or candied citron. _Time_.--About 10 minutes to stir the cream over the fire. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for a good-sized dish. _Seasonable_ at any time. PRESERVED GINGER comes to us from the West Indies. It is made by scalding the roots when they are green and full of sap, then peeling them in cold water, and putting them into jars, with a rich syrup; in which state we receive them. It should be chosen of a bright-yellow colour, with a little transparency: what is dark-coloured, fibrous, and stringy, is not good. Ginger roots, fit for preserving, and in size equal to West Indian, have been produced in the Royal Agricultural Garden in Edinburgh. TO MAKE GOOSEBERRY FOOL. 1433. INGREDIENTS.--Green gooseberries; to every pint of pulp add 1 pint of milk, or 1/2 pint of cream and 1/2 pint of milk; sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the tops and tails off the gooseberries; put them into a jar, with 2 tablespoonfuls of water and a little good moist sugar; set this jar in a saucepan of boiling water, and let it boil until the fruit is soft enough to mash. When done enough, beat it to a pulp, work this pulp through a colander, and stir to every pint the above proportion of milk, or equal quantities of milk and cream. Ascertain if the mixture is sweet enough, and put in plenty of sugar, or it will not be eatable; and in mixing the milk and gooseberries, add the former very gradually to these: serve in a glass dish, or in small glasses. This, although a very old-fashioned and homely dish, is, when well made, very delicious, and, if properly sweetened, a very suitable preparation for children. _Time_.--From 3/4 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. per pint, with milk. _Sufficient_.--A pint of milk and a pint of gooseberry pulp for 5 or 6 children. _Seasonable_ in May and June. GOOSEBERRY TRIFLE. 1434. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of gooseberries, sugar to taste, 1 pint of custard No. 1423, a plateful of whipped cream. _Mode_.--Put the gooseberries into a jar, with sufficient moist sugar to sweeten them, and boil them until reduced to a pulp. Put this pulp at the bottom of a trifle-dish; pour over it a pint of custard made by recipe No. 1423, and, when cold, cover with whipped cream. The cream should be whipped the day before it is wanted for table, as it will then be so much firmer and more solid. The dish may be garnished as fancy dictates. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to boil the gooseberries. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 trifle. _Seasonable_ in May and June. INDIAN FRITTERS. 1435. INGREDIENTS.--3 tablespoonfuls of flour, boiling water, the yolks of 4 eggs, the whites of 2, hot lard or clarified dripping, jam. _Mode_.--Put the flour into a basin, and pour over it sufficient _boiling_ water to make it into a stiff paste, taking care to stir and beat it well, to prevent it getting lumpy. Leave it a little time to cool, and then break into it (_without beating them at first_) the yolks of 4 eggs and the whites of 2, and stir and beat all well together. Have ready some boiling lard or butter; drop a dessertspoonful of batter in at a time, and fry the fritters of a light brown. They should rise so much as to be almost like balls. Serve on a dish, with a spoonful of preserve or marmalade dropped in between each fritter. This is an excellent dish for a hasty addition to dinner, if a guest unexpectedly arrives, it being so easily and quickly made, and it is always a great favourite. _Time_.--From 5 to 8 minutes to fry the fritters. _Average cost_, exclusive of the jam, 5d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. INDIAN TRIFLE. 1436. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of milk, the rind of 1/2 large lemon, sugar to taste, 5 heaped tablespoonfuls of rice-flour, 1 oz. of sweet almonds, 1/2 pint of custard. _Mode_.--Boil the milk and lemon-rind together until the former is well flavoured; take out the lemon-rind and stir in the rice-flour, which should first be moistened with cold milk, and add sufficient loaf sugar to sweeten it nicely. Boil gently for about 5 minutes, and keep the mixture stirred; take it off the fire, let it cool _a little_, and pour it into a glass dish. When cold, cut the rice out in the form of a star, or any other shape that may be preferred; take out the spare rice, and fill the space with boiled custard. Blanch and cut the almonds into strips; stick them over the trifle, and garnish it with pieces of brightly-coloured jelly, or preserved fruits, or candied citron. _Time_.--1/4 hour to simmer the milk, 5 minutes after the rice is added. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 1 trifle. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: THE CITRON.] THE CITRON.--The citron belongs to the same species as the lemon, being considered only as a variety, the distinction between them not being very great. It is larger, and is less succulent, but more acid: with a little artificial heat, the citron comes to as great perfection in England as in Spain and Italy. The fruit is oblong and about five or six inches in length. The tree is thorny. The juice forms an excellent lemonade with sugar and water; its uses in punch, negus, and in medicine, are well known. The rind is very thick, and, when candied with sugar, forms an excellent sweetmeat. There are several varieties cultivated in England, one of which is termed the Forbidden Fruit. ITALIAN CREAM. 1437. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, 4 pint of cream, sugar to taste, 1 oz. of isinglass, 1 lemon, the yolks of 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Put the cream and milk into a saucepan, with sugar to sweeten, and the lemon-rind. Boil until the milk is well flavoured then strain it into a basin, and add the beaten yolks of eggs. Put this mixture into a jug; place the jug in a saucepan of boiling water over the fire, and stir the contents until they thicken, but do not allow them to boil. Take the cream off the fire, stir in the lemon-juice and isinglass, which should be melted, and whip well; fill a mould, place it in ice if at hand, and, when set, turn it out on a dish, and garnish as taste may dictate. The mixture may be whipped and drained, and then put into small glasses, when this mode of serving is preferred. _Time_.--From 5 to 8 minutes to stir the mixture in the jug. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill 1-1/2-pint mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE HIDDEN MOUNTAIN. (_A pretty Supper Dish_.) 1438. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, a few slices of citron, sugar to taste, 1/4 pint of cream, a layer of any kind of jam. _Mode_.--Beat the whites and yolks of the eggs separately; then mix them and beat well again, adding a few thin slices of citron, the cream, and sufficient pounded sugar to sweeten it nicely. When the mixture is well beaten, put it into a buttered pan, and fry the same as a pancake; but it should be three times the thickness of an ordinary pancake. Cover it with jam, and garnish with slices of citron and holly-leaves. This dish is served cold. _Time_.--About 10 minutes to fry the mixture. _Average cost_, with the jam, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. JAUNEMANGE. 1439. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of isinglass, 1 pint of water, 1/2 pint of white wine, the rind and juice of 1 large lemon, sugar to taste, the yolks of 6 eggs. _Mode_.--Put the isinglass, water, and lemon-rind into a saucepan, and boil gently until the former is dissolved; then add the strained lemon-juice, the wine, and sufficient white sugar to sweeten the whole nicely. Boil for 2 or 3 minutes, strain the mixture into a jug, and add the yolks of the eggs, which should be well beaten; place the jug in a saucepan of boiling water; keep stirring the mixture _one way_ until it thickens, _but do not allow it to boil_; then take it off the fire, and keep stirring until nearly cold. Pour it into a mould, omitting the sediment at the bottom of the jug, and let it remain until quite firm. _Time_.--1/4 hour to boil the isinglass and water; about 10 minutes to stir the mixture in the jug. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 2s. 9d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. JELLY MOULDED WITH FRESH FRUIT, or MACEDOINE DE FRUITS. 1440. INGREDIENTS.--Rather more than 1-1/2 pint of jelly, a few nice strawberries, or red or white currants, or raspberries, or any fresh fruit that may be in season. _Mode_.--Have ready the above proportion of jelly, which must be very clear and rather sweet, the raw fruit requiring an additional quantity of sugar. Select ripe, nice-looking fruit; pick off the stalks, unless currants are used, when they are laid in the jelly as they come from the tree. Begin by putting a little jelly at the bottom of the mould, which must harden; then arrange the fruit round the sides of the mould, recollecting; that _it will be reversed when turned out;_ then pour in some more jelly to make the fruit adhere, and, when that layer is set, put another row of fruit and jelly until the mould is full. If convenient, put it in ice until required for table, then wring a cloth in boiling water, wrap it round the mould for a minute, and turn the jelly carefully out. Peaches, apricots, plums, apples, &c., are better for being boiled in a little clear syrup before they are laid in the jelly; strawberries, raspberries, grapes, cherries, and currants are put in raw. In winter, when fresh fruits are not obtainable, a very pretty jelly may be made with preserved fruits or brandy cherries: these, in a bright and clear jelly, have a very pretty effect; of course, unless the jelly be _very clear_, the beauty of the dish will be spoiled. It may be garnished with the same fruit as is laid in the jelly; for instance, an open jelly with strawberries might have, piled in the centre, a few of the same fruit prettily arranged, or a little whipped cream might be substituted for the fruit. [Illustration: JELLY MOULDED WITH CHERRIES.] _Time_.--One layer of jelly should remain 2 hours in a very cool place, before another layer is added. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_, with fruit, to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_, with fresh fruit, from June to October; with dried, at any time. JELLY OF TWO COLOURS. 1441. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of calf's-feet jelly No. 1416, a few drops of prepared cochineal. [Illustration: JELLY OF TWO COLOURS.] _Mode_.--Make 1-1/2 pint of jelly by recipe No. 1416, or, if wished more economical, of clarified syrup and gelatine, flavouring it in any way that may be preferred. Colour one-half of the jelly with a few drops of prepared cochineal, and the other half leave as pale as possible. Have ready a mould well wetted in every part; pour in a small quantity of the red jelly, and let this set; when quite firm, pour on it the same quantity of the pale jelly, and let this set; then proceed in this manner until the mould is full, always taking care to let one jelly set before the other is poured in, or the colours would run one into the other. When turned out, the jelly should have a striped appearance. For variety, half the mould may be filled at once with one of the jellies, and, when firm, filled up with the other: this, also, has a very pretty effect, and is more expeditiously prepared than when the jelly is poured in small quantities into the mould. Blancmange and red jelly, or blancmange and raspberry cream, moulded in the above manner, look very well. The layers of blancmange and jelly should be about an inch in depth, and each layer should be perfectly hardened before another is added. Half a mould of blancmange and half a mould of jelly are frequently served in the same manner. A few pretty dishes may be made, in this way, of jellies or blancmanges left from the preceding day, by melting them separately in a jug placed in a saucepan of boiling water, and then moulding them by the foregoing directions. (See coloured plate S1.) _Time_.--3/4 hour to make the jelly. _Average cost_, with calf's-feet jelly, 2s.; with gelatine and syrup, more economical. _Sufficient_ to fill 1-1/2 pint mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--In making the jelly, use for flavouring a very pale sherry, or the colour will be too dark to contrast nicely with the red jelly. LEMON BLANCMANGE. 1442. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of milk, the yolks of 4 eggs, 3 oz. of ground rice, 6 oz. of pounded sugar, 1-1/2 oz. of fresh butter, the rind of 1 lemon, the juice of 2, 1/2 oz. of gelatine. [Illustration: BLANCMANGE MOULD.] _Mode_.--Make a custard with the yolks of the eggs and 1/2 pint of the milk, and, when done, put it into a basin: put half the remainder of the milk into a saucepan with the ground rice, fresh butter, lemon-rind, and 3 oz. of the sugar, and let these ingredients boil until the mixture is stiff, stirring them continually; when done, pour it into the bowl where the custard is, mixing both well together. Put the gelatine with the rest of the milk into a saucepan, and let it stand by the side of the fire to dissolve; boil for a minute or two, stir carefully into the basin, adding 3 oz. more of pounded sugar. When cold, stir in the lemon-juice, which should be carefully strained, and pour the mixture into a well-oiled mould, leaving out the lemon-peel, and set the mould in a pan of cold water until wanted for table. Use eggs that have rich-looking yolks; and, should the weather be very warm, rather a larger proportion of gelatine must be allowed. _Time_.--Altogether, 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill 2 small moulds. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON CREAM. 1443. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of cream, the yolks of 2 eggs, 1/4 lb. of white sugar, 1 large lemon, 1 oz. of isinglass. [Illustration: LEMON-CREAM MOULD.] _Mode_.--Put the cream into a _lined_ saucepan with the sugar, lemon-peel, and isinglass, and simmer these over a gentle fire for about 10 minutes, stirring them all the time. Strain the cream into a jug, add the yolks of eggs, which should be well beaten, and put the jug into a saucepan of boiling water; stir the mixture one way until it thickens, _but do not allow it to boil_; take it off the fire, and keep stirring it until nearly cold. Strain the lemon-juice into a basin, gradually pour on it the cream, and _stir it well_ until the juice is well mixed with it. Have ready a well-oiled mould, pour the cream into it, and let it remain until perfectly set. When required for table, loosen the edges with a small blunt knife, put a dish on the top of the mould, turn it over quickly, and the cream should easily slip away. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the cream; about 10 minutes to stir it over the fire in the jug. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, and the best isinglass, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill 1-1/2-pint mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. ECONOMICAL LEMON CREAM. 1444. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of milk, 8 bitter almonds, 2 oz. of gelatine, 2 large lemons, 3/4 lb. of lump sugar, the yolks of 6 eggs. _Mode_.--Put the milk into a lined saucepan with the almonds, which should be well pounded in a mortar, the gelatine, lemon-rind, and lump sugar, and boil these ingredients for about 5 minutes. Beat up the yolks of the eggs, strain the milk into a jug, add the eggs, and pour the mixture backwards and forwards a few times, until nearly cold; then stir briskly to it the lemon-juice, which should be strained, and keep stirring until the cream is almost cold: put it into an oiled mould, and let it remain until perfectly set. The lemon-juice must not be added to the cream when it is warm, and should be well stirred after it is put in. _Time_.--5 minutes to boil the milk. _Average cost_, 2s. 5d. _Sufficient_ to fill two 1-1/2-pint moulds. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON CREAMS. (_Very good_.) 1445. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of cream, 2 dozen sweet almonds, 3 glasses of sherry, the rind and juice of 2 lemons, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Blanch and chop the almonds, and put them into a jug with the cream; in another jug put the sherry, lemon-rind, strained juice, and sufficient pounded sugar to sweeten the whole nicely. Pour rapidly from one jug to the other till the mixture is well frothed; then, pour it into jelly-glasses, omitting the lemon-rind. This is a very cool and delicious sweet for summer, and may be made less rich by omitting the almonds and substituting orange or raisin wine for the sherry. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 3s. _Sufficient_ to fill 12 glasses. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON CREAMS OF CUSTARDS. 1446. INGREDIENTS.--5 oz. of loaf sugar, 2 pints of boiling water, the rind of 1 lemon and the juice of 3, the yolks of 8 eggs. _Mode_.--Make a quart of lemonade in the following manner:--Dissolve the sugar in the boiling water, having previously, with part of the sugar, rubbed off the lemon-rind, and add the strained juice. Strain the lemonade into a saucepan, and add the yolks of the eggs, which should be well beaten; stir this _one way_ over the fire until the mixture thickens, but do not allow it to boil, and serve in custard-glasses, or on a glass dish. After the boiling water is poured on the sugar and lemon, it should stand covered for about 1/2 hour before the eggs are added to it, that the flavour of the rind may be extracted. _Time_.--1/2 hour to make the lemonade; about 10 minutes to stir the custard over the fire. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ to fill 12 to 14 custard-glasses. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON JELLY. 1447. INGREDIENTS.--6 lemons, 3/4 lb. of lump sugar, 1 pint of water, 1-1/2 oz. of isinglass, 1/4 pint of sherry. _Mode_.--Peel 3 of the lemons, pour 1/2 pint of boiling water on the rind, and let it infuse for 1/2 hour; put the sugar, isinglass, and 1/2 pint of water into a lined saucepan, and boil these ingredients for 20 minutes; then put in the strained lemon-juice, the strained infusion of the rind, and bring the whole to the point of boiling; skim well, add the wine, and run the jelly through a bag; pour it into a mould that has been wetted or soaked in water; put it in ice, if convenient, where let it remain until required for table. Previously to adding the lemon-juice to the other ingredients, ascertain that it is very nicely strained, as, if this is not properly attended to, it is liable to make the jelly thick and muddy. As this jelly is very pale, and almost colourless, it answers very well for moulding with a jelly of any bright hue; for instance, half a jelly bright red, and the other half made of the above, would have a very good effect. Lemon jelly may also be made with calf's-feet stock, allowing the juice of 3 lemons to every pint of stock. _Time_.--Altogether, 1 hour. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 2s. 9d. _Sufficient_ to fill 1-1/2-pint mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON SPONGE. 1448. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of isinglass, 1-3/4 pint of water, 3/4 lb. of pounded sugar, the juice of 5 lemons, the rind of 1, the whites of 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Dissolve the isinglass in the water, strain it into a saucepan, and add the sugar, lemon-rind, and juice. Boil the whole from 10 to 15 minutes; strain it again, and let it stand till it is cold and begins to stiffen. Beat the whites of the eggs, put them to it, and whisk the mixture till it is quite white; put it into a mould which has been previously wetted, and let it remain until perfectly set; then turn it out, and garnish it according to taste. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. LIQUEUR JELLY. 1449. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of lump sugar, 2 oz. of isinglass, 1-1/2 pint of water, the juice of 2 lemons, 1/4 pint of liqueur. [Illustration: OVAL JELLY-MOULD.] _Mode_.--Put the sugar, with 1 pint of the water, into a stewpan, and boil them gently by the side of the fire until there is no scum remaining, which must be carefully removed as fast as it rises. Boil the isinglass with the other 1/2 pint of water, and skim it carefully in the same manner. Strain the lemon-juice, and add it, with the clarified isinglass, to the syrup; put in the liqueur, and bring the whole to the boiling-point. Let the saucepan remain covered by the side of the fire for a few minutes; then pour the jelly through a bag, put it into a mould, and set the mould in ice until required for table. Dip the mould in hot water, wipe the outside, loosen the jelly by passing a knife round the edges, and turn it out carefully on a dish. Noyeau, Maraschino, Curaçoa, brandy, or any kind of liqueur, answers for this jelly; and, when made with isinglass, liqueur jellies are usually prepared as directed above. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the sugar and water. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. A SWEET DISH OF MACARONI. 1450. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of macaroni, 1-1/2 pint of milk, the rind of 1/2 lemon, 3 oz. of lump sugar, 3/4 pint of custard No. 1423. _Mode_.--Put the milk into a saucepan, with the lemon-peel and sugar; bring it to the boiling-point, drop in the macaroni, and let it gradually swell over a gentle fire, but do not allow the pipes to break. The form should be entirely preserved; and, though tender, should be firm, and not soft, with no part beginning to melt. Should the milk dry away before the macaroni is sufficiently swelled, add a little more. Make a custard by recipe No. 1423; place the macaroni on a dish, and pour the custard over the hot macaroni; grate over it a little nutmeg, and, when cold, garnish the dish with slices of candied citron. _Time_.--From 40 to 50 minutes to swell the macaroni. _Average cost_, with the custard, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. MERINGUES. 1451. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of pounded sugar, the whites of 4 eggs. [Illustration: MERINGUES.] _Mode_.--Whisk the whites of the eggs to a stiff froth, and, with a wooden spoon, stir in _quickly_ the pounded sugar; and have some boards thick enough to put in the oven to prevent the bottom of the meringues from acquiring too much colour. Cut some strips of paper about 2 inches wide; place this paper on the board, and drop a tablespoonful at a time of the mixture on the paper, taking care to let all the meringues be the same size. In dropping it from the spoon, give the mixture the form of an egg, and keep the meringues about 2 inches apart from each other on the paper. Strew over them some sifted sugar, and bake in a moderate oven for 1/2 hour. As soon as they begin to colour, remove them from the oven; take each slip of paper by the two ends, and turn it gently on the table, and, with a small spoon, take out the soft part of each meringue. Spread some clean paper on the board, turn the meringues upside down, and put them into the oven to harden and brown on the other side. When required for table, fill them with whipped cream, flavoured with liqueur or vanilla, and sweetened with pounded sugar. Join two of the meringues together, and pile them high in the dish, as shown in the annexed drawing. To vary their appearance, finely-chopped almonds or currants may be strewn over them before the sugar is sprinkled over; and they may be garnished with any bright-coloured preserve. Great expedition is necessary in making this sweet dish; as, if the meringues are not put into the oven as soon as the sugar and eggs are mixed, the former melts, and the mixture would run on the paper, instead of keeping its egg-shape. The sweeter the meringues are made, the crisper will they be; but, if there is not sufficient sugar mixed with them, they will most likely be tough. They are sometimes coloured with cochineal; and, if kept well covered in a dry place, will remain good for a month or six weeks. _Time_.--Altogether, about 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, with the cream and flavouring, 1s. _Sufficient_ to make 2 dozen meringues. _Seasonable_ at any time. NOYEAU CREAM. 1452. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 oz. of isinglass, the juice of 2 lemons, noyeau and pounded sugar to taste, 1-1/2 pint of cream. _Mode_.--Dissolve the isinglass in a little boiling water, add the lemon-juice, and strain this to the cream, putting in sufficient noyeau and sugar to flavour and sweeten the mixture nicely; whisk the cream well, put it into an oiled mould, and set the mould in ice or in a cool place; turn it out, and garnish the dish to taste. _Time_.--Altogether, 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint and the best isinglass, 4s. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. OPEN JELLY WITH WHIPPED CREAM. (_A very pretty dish_.) 1453. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of jelly, 1/2 pint of cream, 1 glass of sherry, sugar to taste. [Illustration: OPEN JELLY WITH WHIPPED CREAM.] _Mode_.--Make the above proportion of calf's-feet or isinglass jelly, colouring and flavouring it in any way that may be preferred; soak a mould, open in the centre, for about 1/2 hour in cold water; fill it with the jelly, and let it remain in a cool place until perfectly set; then turn it out on a dish; fill the centre with whipped cream, flavoured with sherry and sweetened with pounded sugar; pile this cream high in the centre, and serve. The jelly should be made of rather a dark colour, to contrast nicely with the cream. _Time_.--3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill 1-1/2-pint mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. ORANGE JELLY. 1454. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of water, 1-1/2 to 2 oz. of isinglass, 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, 1 Seville orange, 1 lemon, about 9 China oranges. [Illustration: OPEN MOULD.] _Mode_.--Put the water into a saucepan, with the isinglass, sugar, and the rind of 1 orange, and the same of 1/2 lemon, and stir these over the fire until the isinglass is dissolved, and remove the scum; then add to this the juice of the Seville orange, the juice of the lemon, and sufficient juice of China oranges to make in all 1 pint; from 8 to 10 oranges will yield the desired quantity. Stir all together over the fire until it is just on the point of boiling; skim well; then strain the jelly through a very fine sieve or jelly-bag, and when nearly cold, put it into a mould previously wetted, and, when quite set, turn it out on a dish, and garnish it to taste. To insure this jelly being clear, the orange-and lemon-juice should be well strained, and the isinglass clarified, before they are added to the other ingredients, and, to heighten the colour, a few drops of prepared cochineal may be added. _Time_.--5 minutes to boil without the juice; 1 minute after it is added. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ from November to May. ORANGE JELLY MOULDED WITH SLICES OF ORANGE. 1455. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of orange jelly No. 1454, 4 oranges, 1 pint of clarified syrup. _Mode_.--Boil 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar with 1/2 pint of water until there is no scum left (which must be carefully removed as fast as it rises), and carefully peel the oranges; divide them into thin slices, without breaking the thin skin, and put these pieces of orange into the syrup, where let them remain for about 5 minutes; then take them out, and use the syrup for the jelly, which should be made by recipe No. 1454. When the oranges are well drained, and the jelly is nearly cold, pour a little of the latter into the bottom of the mould; then lay in a few pieces of orange; over these pour a little jelly, and when this is set, place another layer of oranges, proceeding in this manner until the mould is full. Put it in ice, or in a cool place, and, before turning it out, wrap a cloth round the mould for a minute or two, which has been wrung out in boiling water. _Time_.--5 minutes to simmer the oranges. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient_, with the slices of orange, to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ from November to May. TO MAKE A PLAIN OMELET. 1456. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 1 saltspoonful of salt, 1/3 saltspoonful of pepper, 1/4 lb. of butter. [Illustration: OMELET.] _Mode_.--Break the eggs into a basin, omitting the whites of 3, and beat them up with the salt and pepper until extremely light; then add 2 oz. of the butter broken into small pieces, and stir this into the mixture. Put the other 2 oz. of butter into a frying-pan, make it quite hot, and, as soon as it begins to bubble, whisk the eggs, &c. very briskly for a minute or two, and pour them into the pan; stir the omelet with a spoon one way until the mixture thickens and becomes firm, and when the whole is set, fold the edges over, so that the omelet assumes an oval form; and when it is nicely brown on one side, and quite firm, it is done. To take off the rawness on the upper side, hold the pan before the fire for a minute or two, and brown it with a salamander or hot shovel. Serve very expeditiously on a very hot dish, and never cook it until it is just wanted. The flavour of this omelet may be very much enhanced by adding minced parsley, minced onion or eschalot, or grated cheese, allowing 1 tablespoonful of the former, and half the quantity of the latter, to the above proportion of eggs. Shrimps or oysters may also be added: the latter should be scalded in their liquor, and then bearded and cut into small pieces. In making an omelet, be particularly careful that it is not too thin, and, to avoid this, do not make it in too large a frying-pan, as the mixture would then spread too much, and taste of the outside. It should also not be greasy, burnt, or too much done, and should be cooked over a gentle fire, that the whole of the substance may be heated without drying up the outside. Omelets are sometimes served with gravy; but _this should never be poured over them_, but served in a tureen, as the liquid causes the omelet to become heavy and flat, instead of eating light and soft. In making the gravy, the flavour should not overpower that of the omelet, and should be thickened with arrowroot or rice flour. _Time_.--With 6 eggs, in a frying-pan 18 or 20 inches round, 4 to 6 minutes. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. HAM OMELET (_A delicious Breakfast Dish_.) 1457. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 4 oz. of butter, 1/2 saltspoonful of pepper, 2 tablespoonfuls of minced ham. _Mode_.--Mince the ham very finely, without any fat, and fry it for 2 minutes in a little butter; then make the batter for the omelet, stir in the ham, and proceed as directed in recipe No. 1456. Do not add any salt to the batter, as the ham is usually sufficiently salt to impart a flavour to the omelet. Good lean bacon, or tongue, answers equally well for this dish; but they must also be slightly cooked previously to mixing them with the batter. Serve very hot and quickly, without gravy. _Time_.--From 4 to 6 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. KIDNEY OMELET (_A favourite French dish_.) 1458. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 1 saltspoonful of salt, 1/2 saltspoonful of pepper, 2 sheep's kidneys, or 2 tablespoonfuls of minced veal kidney, 5 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Skin the kidneys, cut them into small dice, and toss them in a frying-pan, in 1 oz. of butter, over the fire for 2 or 3 minutes. Mix the ingredients for the omelet the same as in recipe No. 1456, and when the eggs are well whisked, stir in the pieces of kidney. Make the butter hot in the frying-pan, and when it bubbles, pour in the omelet, and fry it over a gentle fire from 4 to 6 minutes. When the eggs are set, fold the edges over, so that the omelet assumes an oval form, and be careful that it is not too much done: to brown the top, hold the pan before the fire for a minute or two, or use a salamander until the desired colour is obtained, but never turn an omelet in the pan. Slip it carefully on to a _very hot_ dish, or, what is a much safer method, put a dish on the omelet, and turn the pan quickly over. It should be served the instant it comes from the fire. _Time_.--4 to 6 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE A PLAIN SWEET OMELET. 1459. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 4 oz. of butter, 2 oz. of sifted sugar. _Mode_.--Break the eggs into a basin, omitting the whites of 3; whisk them well, adding the sugar and 2 oz. of the butter, which should be broken into small pieces, and stir all these ingredients well together. Make the remainder of the butter quite hot in a small frying-pan, and when it commences to bubble, pour in the eggs, &c. Keep stirring them until they begin to set; then turn the edges of the omelet over, to make it an oval shape, and finish cooking it. To brown the top, hold the pan before the fire, or use a salamander, and turn it carefully on to a _very hot_ dish: sprinkle sifted sugar over, and serve. _Time_.--From 4 to 6 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. OMELETTE AUX CONFITURES, or JAM OMELET. 1460. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 4 oz. of butter, 3 tablespoonfuls of apricot, strawberry, or any jam that may be preferred. _Mode_.--Make the omelet by recipe No. 1459, only instead of doubling it over, leave it flat in the pan. When quite firm, and nicely brown on one side, turn it carefully on to a hot dish, spread over the middle of it the jam, and fold the omelet over on each side; sprinkle sifted sugar over, and serve very quickly. A pretty dish of small omelets may be made by dividing the batter into 3 or 4 portions, and frying them separately; they should then be spread each one with a different kind of preserve, and the omelets rolled over. Always sprinkle sweet omelets with sifted sugar before being sent to table. _Time_.--4 to 6 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. OMELETTE SOUFFLÉ. 1461. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 5 oz. of pounded sugar, flavouring of vanilla, orange-flower water, or lemon-rind, 3 oz. of butter, 1 dessert-spoonful of rice-flour. _Mode_.--Separate the yolks from the whites of the eggs, add to the former the sugar, the rice-flour, and either of the above flavourings that may be preferred, and stir these ingredients well together. Whip the whites of the eggs, mix them lightly with the batter, and put the butter into a small frying-pan. As soon as it begins to bubble, pour the batter into it, and set the pan over a bright but gentle fire; and when the omelet is set, turn the edges over to make it an oval shape, and slip it on to a silver dish, which has been previously well buttered. Put it in the oven, and bake from 12 to 15 minutes; sprinkle finely-powdered sugar over the soufflé, and _serve it immediately_. _Time_.--About 4 minutes in the pan; to bake, from 12 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_. 1s. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BACHELOR'S OMELET. 1462. INGREDIENTS.--2 or 3 eggs, 2 oz. of butter, 1 teaspoonful of flour, 1/2 teacupful of milk. _Mode_.--Make a thin cream of the flour and milk; then beat up the eggs, mix all together, and add a pinch of salt and a few grains of cayenne. Melt the butter in a small frying-pan, and, when very hot, pour in the batter. Let the pan remain for a few minutes over a clear fire; then sprinkle upon the omelet some chopped herbs and a few shreds of onion; double the omelet dexterously, and shake it out of the pan on to a hot dish. A simple sweet omelet can be made by the same process, substituting sugar or preserve for the chopped herbs. _Time_.--2 minutes. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 2 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. ORANGE CREAM. 1463. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of isinglass, 6 large oranges, 1 lemon, sugar to taste, water, 1/2 pint of good cream. [Illustration: OPEN MOULD.] _Mode_.--Squeeze the juice from the oranges and lemon; strain it, and put it into a saucepan with the isinglass, and sufficient water to make in all 1-1/2 pint. Rub the sugar on the orange and lemon-rind, add it to the other ingredients, and boil all together for about 10 minutes. Strain through a muslin bag, and, when cold, beat up with it 1/2 pint of thick cream. Wet a mould, or soak it in cold water; pour in the cream, and put it in a cool place to set. If the weather is very cold, 1 oz. of isinglass will be found sufficient for the above proportion of ingredients. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the juice and water. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 3s. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ from November to May. ORANGE CREAMS. 1464. INGREDIENTS.--1 Seville orange, 1 tablespoonful of brandy, 1/4 lb. of loaf sugar, the yolks of 4 eggs, 1 pint of cream. _Mode_.--Boil the rind of the Seville orange until tender, and beat it in a mortar to a pulp; add to it the brandy, the strained juice of the orange, and the sugar, and beat all together for about 10 minutes, adding the well-beaten yolks of eggs. Bring the cream to the boiling-point, and pour it very gradually to the other ingredients, and beat the mixture till nearly cold; put it into custard-cups, place the cups in a deep dish of boiling water, where let them remain till quite cold. Take the cups out of the water, wipe them, and garnish the tops of the creams with candied orange-peel or preserved chips. _Time_.--Altogether, 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 1s. 7d. _Sufficient_ to make 7 or 8 creams. _Seasonable_ from November to May. _Note_.--To render this dish more economical, substitute milk for the cream, but add a small pinch of isinglass to make the creams firm. SEVILLE ORANGE (_Citrus vulgaris_).--This variety, called also _bitter orange_, is of the same species as the sweet orange, and grows in great abundance on the banks of the Guadalquiver, in Andalusia, whence this fruit is chiefly obtained. In that part of Spain there are very extensive orchards of these oranges, which form the chief wealth of the monasteries. The pulp of the bitter orange is not eaten raw. In the yellow rind, separated from the white spongy substance immediately below it, is contained an essential oil, which is an agreeable warm aromatic, much superior for many purposes to that of the common orange. The best marmalade and the richest wine are made from this orange; and from its flowers the best orange-flower water is distilled. Seville oranges are also preserved whole as a sweetmeat. ORANGE FRITTERS. 1465. INGREDIENTS.--For the batter, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 oz. of butter, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 2 eggs, milk, oranges, hot lard or clarified dripping. _Mode_.--Make a nice light batter with the above proportion of flour, butter, salt, eggs, and sufficient milk to make it the proper consistency; peel the oranges, remove as much of the white skin as possible, and divide each orange into eight pieces, without breaking the thin skin, unless it be to remove the pips; dip each piece of orange in the batter. Have ready a pan of boiling lard or clarified dripping; drop in the oranges, and fry them a delicate brown from 8 to 10 minutes. When done, lay them on a piece of blotting-paper before the fire, to drain away the greasy moisture, and dish them on a white d'oyley; sprinkle over them plenty of pounded sugar, and serve quickly. _Time_.--8 to 10 minutes to fry the fritters; 5 minutes to drain them. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to May. A PRETTY DISH OF ORANGES. 1466. INGREDIENTS.--6 large oranges, 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, 1/4 pint of water, 1/2 pint of cream, 2 tablespoonfuls of any kind of liqueur, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Put the sugar and water into a saucepan, and boil them until the sugar becomes brittle, which may be ascertained by taking up a small quantity in a spoon, and dipping it in cold water; if the sugar is sufficiently boiled, it will easily snap. Peel the oranges, remove as much of the white pith as possible, and divide them into nice-sized slices, without breaking the thin white skin which surrounds the juicy pulp. Place the pieces of orange on small skewers, dip them into the hot sugar, and arrange them in layers round a plain mould, which should be well oiled with the purest salad-oil. The sides of the mould only should be lined with the oranges, and the centre left open for the cream. Let the sugar become firm by cooling; turn the oranges carefully out on a dish, and fill the centre with whipped cream, flavoured with any kind of liqueur, and sweetened with pounded sugar. This is an exceedingly ornamental and nice dish for the supper-table. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the sugar. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Sufficient_ for 1 mould. _Seasonable_ from November to May. TO MAKE PANCAKES. 1467. INGREDIENTS.--Eggs, flour, milk; to every egg allow 1 oz. of flour, about 1 gill of milk, 1/8 saltspoonful of salt. [Illustration: PANCAKES.] _Mode_.--Ascertain that the eggs are fresh; break each one separately in a cup; whisk them well, put them into a basin, with the flour, salt, and a few drops of milk, and beat the whole to a perfectly _smooth_ batter; then add by degrees the remainder of the milk. The proportion of this latter ingredient must be regulated by the size of the eggs, &c. &c.; but the batter, when ready for frying, should be of the consistency of thick cream. Place a small frying-pan on the fire to get hot; let it be delicately clean, or the pancakes will stick, and, when quite hot, put into it a small piece of butter, allowing about 1/2 oz. to each pancake. When it is melted, pour in the batter, about 1/2 teacupful to a pan 5 inches in diameter, and fry it for about 4 minutes, or until it is nicely brown on one side. By only pouring in a small quantity of batter, and so making the pancakes thin, the necessity of turning them (an operation rather difficult to unskilful cooks) is obviated. When the pancake is done, sprinkle over it some pounded sugar, roll it up in the pan, and take it out with a large slice, and place it on a dish before the fire. Proceed in this manner until sufficient are cooked for a dish; then send them quickly to table, and continue to send in a further quantity, as pancakes are never good unless eaten almost immediately they come from the frying-pan. The batter may be flavoured with a little grated lemon-rind, or the pancakes may have preserve rolled in them instead of sugar. Send sifted sugar and a cut lemon to table with them. To render the pancakes very light, the yolks and whites of the eggs should be beaten separately, and the whites added the last thing to the batter before frying. _Time_.--from 4 to 6 minutes for a pancake that does not require turning; from 6 to 8 minutes for a thicker one. _Average cost_, for 3 persons, 6d. _Sufficient._--Allow 3 eggs, with the other ingredients in proportion, for 3 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time, but specially served on Shrove Tuesday. RICHER PANCAKES. 1468. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 1 pint of cream, 1/4 lb. of loaf sugar, 1 glass of sherry, 1/2 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, flour. _Mode_.--Ascertain that the eggs are extremely fresh, beat them well, strain and mix with them the cream, pounded sugar, wine, nutmeg, and as much flour as will make the batter nearly as thick as that for ordinary pancakes. Make the frying-pan hot, wipe it with a clean cloth, pour in sufficient batter to make a thin pancake, and fry it for about 5 minutes. Dish the pancakes piled one above the other, strew sifted sugar between each, and serve. _Time_.--About 5 minutes. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 2s. 3d. _Sufficient_ to make 8 pancakes. _Seasonable_ at any time, but specially served on Shrove Tuesday. PEACH FRITTERS. 1469. INGREDIENTS.--For the batter: 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 oz. of butter, 1/2 saltspoonful of salt, 2 eggs, milk;--peaches, hot lard or clarified dripping. _Mode_.--Make a nice smooth, batter in the same manner as directed in recipe No. 1393, and skin, halve, and stone the peaches, which should be quite ripe; dip them in the batter, and fry the pieces in hot lard or clarified dripping, which should be brought to the boiling-point before the peaches are put in. From 8 to 10 minutes will be required to fry them, and, when done, drain them before the fire, and dish them on a white d'oyley. Strew over plenty of pounded sugar, and serve. _Time_.--From 8 to 10 minutes to fry the fritters, 6 minutes to drain them. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September. [Illustration: PEACH.] PEACH.--The peach and nectarine are amongst the most delicious of our fruits, and are considered as varieties of the same species produced by cultivation. The former is characterized by a very delicate down, while the latter is smooth; but, as a proof of their identity as to species, trees have borne peaches in one part and nectarines in another; and even a single fruit has had down on one side and the other smooth. The trees are almost exactly alike, as well as the blossoms. Pliny states that the peach was originally brought from Persia, where it grows naturally, from which the name of Persica was bestowed upon it by the Romans; and some modern botanists apply this as the generic name, separating them from _Amygdalus_, or Almond, to which Linnaeus had united them. Although they are not tropical, they require a great deal of warmth to bring them to perfection: hence they seldom ripen in this country, in ordinary seasons, without the use of walls or glass; consequently, they bear a high price. In a good peach, the flesh is firm, the skin thin, of a deep bright colour next the sun and of a yellowish green next to the wall; the pulp is yellowish, full of highly-flavoured juice, the fleshy part thick, and the stone small. Too much down is a sign of inferior quality. This fruit is much used at the dessert, and makes a delicious preserve. PEARS A L'ALLEMANDE. 1470. INGREDIENTS.--6 to 8 pears, water, sugar, 2 oz. of butter, the yolk of an egg, 1/2 oz. of gelatine. _Mode_.--Peel and cut the pears into any form that may be preferred, and steep them in cold water to prevent them turning black; put them into a saucepan with sufficient cold water to cover them, and boil them with the butter and enough sugar to sweeten them nicely, until tender; then brush the pears over with the yolk of an egg, sprinkle them with sifted sugar, and arrange them on a dish. Add the gelatine to the syrup, boil it up quickly for about 5 minutes, strain it over the pears, and let it remain until set. The syrup may be coloured with a little prepared cochineal, which would very much improve the appearance of the dish. _Time_.--From 20 minutes to 1/2 hour to stew the pears; 5 minutes to boil the syrup. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for a large dish. _Seasonable_ from August to February. MOULDED PEARS. 1471. INGREDIENTS.--4 large pears or 6 small ones, 8 cloves, sugar to taste, water, a small piece of cinnamon, 1/4 pint of raisin wine, a strip of lemon-peel, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 1/2 oz. of gelatine. _Mode_.--Peel and cut the pears into quarters; put them into a jar with 3/4 pint of water, cloves, cinnamon, and sufficient sugar to sweeten the whole nicely; cover down the top of the jar, and bake the pears in a gentle oven until perfectly tender, but do not allow them to break. When done, lay the pears in a plain mould, which should be well wetted, and boil 1/2 pint of the liquor the pears were baked in with the wine, lemon-peel, strained juice, and gelatine. Let these ingredients boil quickly for 5 minutes, then strain the liquid warm over the pears; put the mould in a cool place, and when the jelly is firm, turn it out on a glass dish. _Time_.--2 hours to bake the pears in a cool oven. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for a quart mould. _Seasonable_ from August to February PINEAPPLE FRITTERS. (_An elegant Dish_.) 1472. INGREDIENTS.--A small pineapple, a small wineglassful of brandy or liqueur, 2 oz. of sifted sugar; batter as for apple fritters No. 1393. _Mode_.--This elegant dish, although it may appear extravagant, is really not so if made when pineapples are plentiful. We receive them now in such large quantities from the West Indies, that at times they may be purchased at an exceedingly low rate: it would not, of course, be economical to use the pines which are grown in our English pineries for the purposes of fritters. Pare the pine with as little waste as possible, cut it into rather thin slices, and soak these slices in the above proportion of brandy or liqueur and pounded sugar for 4 hours; then make a batter the same as for apple fritters, substituting cream for the milk, and using a smaller quantity of flour; and, when this is ready, dip in the pieces of pine, and fry them in boiling lard from 5 to 8 minutes; turn them when sufficiently brown on one side, and, when done, drain them from the lard before the fire, dish them on a white d'oyley, strew over them sifted sugar, and serve quickly. _Time_.--5 to 8 minutes. _Average cost_, when cheap and plentiful, 1s. 6d. for the pine. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ in July and August. PINEAPPLE.--The pineapple has not been known in Europe above two hundred years, and has not been cultivated in England much above a century. It is stated that the first pineapples raised in Europe were by M. La Cour, of Leyden, about the middle of the 17th century; and it is said to have been first cultivated in England by Sir Matthew Decker, of Richmond. In Kensington Palace, there is a picture in which Charles II. is represented as receiving a pineapple from his gardener Rose, who is presenting it on his knees. PLAIN FRITTERS. 1473. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of flour, 3 eggs, 1/3 pint of milk. [Illustration: STAR FRITTER-MOULD.] _Mode_.--Mix the flour to a smooth batter with a small quantity of the milk; stir in the eggs, which should be well whisked, and then the remainder of the milk; boat the whole to a perfectly smooth batter, and should it be found not quite thin enough, add two or three tablespoonfuls more milk. Have ready a frying-pan, with plenty of boiling lard in it; drop in rather more than a tablespoonful at a time of the batter, and fry the fritters a nice brown, turning them when sufficiently cooked on one side. Drain them well from the greasy moisture by placing them upon a piece of blotting-paper before the fire; dish them on a white d'oyley, sprinkle over them sifted sugar, and send to table with them a cut lemon and plenty of pounded sugar. _Time_.--From 6 to 8 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. POTATO FRITTERS. 1474. INGREDIENTS.--2 large potatoes, 4 eggs, 2 tablespoonfuls of cream, 2 ditto of raisin or sweet wine, 1 dessertspoonful of lemon-juice, 4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, hot lard. [Illustration: SCROLL FRITTER-MOULD.] _Mode_.--Boil the potatoes, and beat them up lightly with a fork, but do not use a spoon, as that would make them heavy. Beat the eggs well, leaving out one of the whites; add the other ingredients, and beat all together for at least 20 minutes, or until the batter is extremely light. Put plenty of good lard into a frying-pan, and drop a tablespoonful of the batter at a time into it, and fry the fritters a nice brown. Serve them with the following sauce:--A glass of sherry mixed with the strained juice of a lemon, and sufficient white sugar to sweeten the whole nicely. Warm these ingredients, and serve the sauce separately in a tureen. The fritters should be neatly dished on a white d'oyley, and pounded sugar sprinkled over them; and they should be well drained on a piece of blotting-paper before the fire previously to being dished. _Time_.--From 6 to 8 minutes. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. RASPBERRY CREAM. 1475. INGREDIENTS.--3/4 pint of milk, 3/4 pint of cream, 1-1/2 oz. of isinglass, raspberry jelly, sugar to taste, 2 tablespoonfuls of brandy. [Illustration: RASPBERRY CREAM MOULD.] _Mode_.--Boil the milk, cream, and isinglass together for 1/4 hour, or until the latter is melted, and strain it through a hair sieve into a basin. Let it cool a little; then add to it sufficient raspberry jelly, which, when melted, would make 1/3 pint, and stir well till the ingredients are thoroughly mixed. If not sufficiently sweet, add a little pounded sugar with the brandy; whisk the mixture well until nearly cold, put it into a well-oiled mould, and set it in a cool place till perfectly set. Raspberry jam may be substituted for the jelly, but must be melted, and rubbed through a sieve, to free it from seeds: in summer, the juice of the fresh fruit may be used, by slightly mashing it with a wooden spoon, and sprinkling sugar over it; the juice that flows from the fruit should then be used for mixing with the cream. If the colour should not be very good, a few drops of prepared cochineal may be added to improve its appearance. (_See_ coloured plate T1.) _Time_.--1/4 hour to boil the cream and isinglass. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, and the best isinglass, 3s. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_, with jelly, at any time. _Note_.--Strawberry cream may be made in precisely the same manner, substituting strawberry jam or jelly for the raspberry. RICE BLANCMANGE. 1476. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of ground rice, 3 oz. of loaf sugar, 1 oz. of fresh butter, 1 quart of milk, flavouring of lemon-peel, essence of almonds or vanilla, or laurel-leaves. _Mode_.--Mix the rice to a smooth batter with about 1/2 pint of the milk, and the remainder put into a saucepan, with the sugar, butter, and whichever of the above flavourings may be preferred; bring the milk to the boiling-point, quickly stir in the rice, and let it boil for about 10 minutes, or until it comes easily away from the saucepan, keeping it well stirred the whole time. Grease a mould with pure salad-oil; pour in the rice, and let it get perfectly set, when it should turn out quite easily; garnish it with jam, or pour round a compôte of any kind of fruit, just before it is sent to table. This blancmange is better for being made the day before it is wanted, as it then has time to become firm. If laurel-leaves are used for flavouring, steep 3 of them in the milk, and take them out before the rice is added: about 8 drops of essence of almonds, or from 12 to 16 drops of essence of vanilla, would be required to flavour the above proportion of milk. _Time_.--From 10 to 15 minutes to boil the rice. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICE CROQUETTES. 1477. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of rice, 1 quart of milk, 6 oz. of pounded sugar, flavouring of vanilla, lemon-peel, or bitter almonds, egg and bread crumbs, hot lard. _Mode_.--Put the rice, milk, and sugar into a saucepan, and let the former gradually swell over a gentle fire until all the milk is dried up; and just before the rice is done, stir in a few drops of essence of any of the above flavourings. Let the rice get cold; then form it into small round balls, dip them into yolk of egg, sprinkle them with bread crumbs, and fry them in boiling lard for about 10 minutes, turning them about, that they may get equally browned. Drain the greasy moisture from them, by placing them on a cloth in front of the fire for a minute or two; pile them on a white d'oyley, and send them quickly to table. A small piece of jam is sometimes introduced into the middle of each croquette, which adds very much to the flavour of this favourite dish. _Time_.--From 3/4 to 1 hour to swell the rice; about 10 minutes to fry the croquettes. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ to make 7 or 8 croquettes. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICE FRITTERS. 1478. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of rice, 1 quart of milk, 3 oz. of sugar, 1 oz. of fresh butter 6 oz. of orange marmalade, 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Swell the rice in the milk, with the sugar and butter, over a slow fire until it is perfectly tender, which will be in about 3/4 hour. When the rice is done, strain away the milk, should there be any left, and mix with it the marmalade and well-beaten eggs; stir the whole over the fire until the eggs are set; then spread the mixture on a dish to the thickness of about 1/2 inch, or rather thicker. When it is perfectly cold, cut it into long strips, dip them in a batter the same as for apple fritters, and fry them a nice brown. Dish them on a white d'oyley, strew sifted sugar over, and serve quickly. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to swell the rice; from 7 to 10 minutes to fry the fritters. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to make 7 or 8 fritters. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICE SNOWBALLS. (_A pretty dish for Juvenile Suppers_.) 1479. INGREDIENTS.--6 oz. of rice, 1 quart of milk, flavouring of essence of almonds, sugar to taste, 1 pint of custard made by recipe No. 1423. _Mode_.--Boil the rice in the milk, with sugar and a flavouring of essence of almonds, until the former is tender, adding, if necessary, a little more milk, should it dry away too much. When the rice is quite soft, put it into teacups, or _small_ round jars, and let it remain until cold; then turn the rice out on a deep glass dish, pour over a custard made by recipe No. 1423, and, on the top of each ball place a small piece of bright-coloured preserve or jelly. Lemon-peel or vanilla may be boiled with the rice instead of the essence of almonds, when either of these is preferred; but the flavouring of the custard must correspond with that of the rice. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to swell the rice in the milk. _Average cost_, with the custard, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 children. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICE SOUFFLE. 1480. INGREDIENTS.--3 tablespoonfuls of ground rice, 1 pint of milk, 5 eggs, pounded sugar to taste, flavouring of lemon-rind, vanilla, coffee, chocolate, or anything that may be preferred, a piece of butter the size of a walnut. _Mode_.--Mix the ground rice with 6 tablespoonfuls of the milk quite smoothly, and put it into a saucepan with the remainder of the milk and butter, and keep stirring it over the fire for about 1/4 hour, or until the mixture thickens. Separate the yolks from the whites of the eggs, beat the former in a basin, and stir to them the rice and sufficient pounded sugar to sweeten the soufflé; but add this latter ingredient as sparingly as possible, as, the less sugar there is used, the lighter will be the soufflé. Now whisk the whites of the eggs to a stiff froth or snow; mix them with the other preparation, and pour the whole into a soufflé-dish, and put it instantly into the oven; bake it about 1/2 hour in a moderate oven; take it out, hold a salamander or hot shovel over the top, sprinkle sifted sugar over it, and send the soufflé to table in the dish it was baked in, either with a napkin pinned round, or inclosed in a more ornamental dish. The excellence of this fashionable dish entirely depends on the proper whisking of the whites of the eggs, the manner of baking, and the expedition with which it is sent to table. Soufflés should be served _instantly_ from the oven, or they will sink, and be nothing more than an ordinary pudding. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE A SOUFFLE. 1481. INGREDIENTS.--3 heaped tablespoonfuls of potato-flour, rice-flour, arrowroot, or tapioca, 1 pint of milk, 5 eggs, a piece of butter the size of a walnut, sifted sugar to taste, 1/4 saltspoonful of salt flavouring. _Mode_.--Mix the potato-flour, or whichever one of the above ingredients is used, with a little of the milk; put it into a saucepan, with the remainder of the milk, the butter, salt, and sufficient pounded sugar to sweeten the whole nicely. Stir these ingredients over the fire until the mixture thickens; then take it off the fire, and let it cool a little. Separate the whites from the yolks of the eggs, beat the latter, and stir them into the soufflé batter. Now whisk the whites of the eggs to the firmest possible froth, for on this depends the excellence of the dish; stir them to the other ingredients, and add a few drops of essence of any flavouring that may be preferred; such as vanilla, lemon, orange, ginger, &c. &c. Pour the batter into a soufflé-dish, put it immediately into the oven, and bake for about 1/2 hour; then take it out, put the dish into another more ornamental one, such as is made for the purpose; hold a salamander or hot shovel over the soufflé, strew it with sifted sugar, and send it instantly to table. The secret of making a soufflé well, is to have the eggs well whisked, but particularly the whites, the oven not too hot, and to send it to table the moment it comes from the oven. If the soufflé be ever so well made, and it is allowed to stand before being sent to table, its appearance and goodness will be entirely spoiled. Soufflés may be flavoured in various ways, but must be named accordingly. Vanilla is one of the most delicate and recherché flavourings that can be used for this very fashionable dish. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour in the oven; 2 or 3 minutes to hold the salamander over. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. SNOW EGGS, or OEUFS A LA NEIGE. (_A very pretty Supper Dish_.) 1482. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 3/4 pint of milk, pounded sugar to taste, flavouring of vanilla, lemon-rind, or orange-flower water. _Mode_.--Put the milk into a saucepan with sufficient sugar to sweeten it nicely, and the rind of 1/2 lemon. Let this steep by the side of the fire for 1/2 hour, when take out the peel; separate the whites from the yolks of the eggs, and whisk the former to a perfectly stiff froth, or until there is no liquid remaining; bring the milk to the boiling-point, and drop in the snow a tablespoonful at a time, and keep turning the eggs until sufficiently cooked. Then place them on a glass dish, beat up the yolks of the eggs, stir to them the milk, add a little more sugar, and strain this mixture into a jug; place the jug in a saucepan of boiling water, and stir it one way until the mixture thickens, but do not allow it to boil, or it will curdle. Pour this custard over the eggs, when they should rise to the surface. They make an exceedingly pretty addition to a supper, and should be put in a cold place after being made. When they are flavoured with vanilla or orange-flower water, it is not necessary to steep the milk. A few drops of the essence of either may be poured in the milk just before the whites are poached. In making the custard, a little more flavouring and sugar should always be added. _Time_.--About 2 minutes to poach the whites; 8 minutes to stir the custard. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. STONE CREAM OF TOUS LES MOIS. 1483. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of preserve, 1 pint of milk, 2 oz. of lump sugar, 1 heaped tablespoonful of tous les mois, 3 drops of essence of cloves, 3 drops of almond-flavouring. _Mode_.--Place the preserve at the bottom of a glass dish; put the milk into a lined saucepan, with the sugar, and make it boil. Mix to a smooth batter the tous les mois, with a very little cold milk; stir it briskly into the boiling milk, add the flavouring, and simmer for 2 minutes. When rather cool, but before turning solid, pour the cream over the jam, and ornament it with strips of red-currant jelly or preserved fruit. _Time_.--2 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. STRAWBERRY JELLY. 1484. INGREDIENTS.--Strawberries, pounded sugar; to every pint of juice allow 1-1/4 oz. of isinglass. _Mode_.--Pick the strawberries, put them into a pan, squeeze them well with a wooden spoon, add sufficient pounded sugar to sweeten them nicely, and let them remain for 1 hour, that the juice may be extracted; then add 1/2 pint of water to every pint of juice. Strain the strawberry-juice and water through a bag; measure it, and to every pint allow 1-1/4 oz. of isinglass, melted and clarified in 1/4 pint of water. Mix this with the juice; put the jelly into a mould, and set the mould in ice. A little lemon-juice added to the strawberry-juice improves the flavour of the jelly, if the fruit is very ripe; but it must be well strained before it is put to the other ingredients, or it will make the jelly muddy. _Time_.--1 hour to draw the juice. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 3s. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1-1/2 pint of jelly for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August. SWISS CREAM. 1485. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of macaroons or 6 small sponge-cakes, sherry, 1 pint of cream, 5 oz. of lump sugar, 2 large tablespoonfuls of arrowroot, the rind of 1 lemon, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 3 tablespoonfuls of milk. _Mode_.--Lay the macaroons or sponge-cakes in a glass dish, and pour over them as much sherry as will cover them, or sufficient to soak them well. Put the cream into a lined saucepan, with the sugar and lemon-rind, and let it remain by the side of the fire until the cream is well flavoured, when take out the lemon-rind. Mix the arrowroot smoothly with the cold milk; add this to the cream, and let it boil gently for about 3 minutes, keeping it well stirred. Take it off the fire, stir till nearly cold, when add the lemon-juice, and pour the whole over the cakes. Garnish the cream with strips of angelica, or candied citron cut thin, or bright-coloured jelly or preserve. This cream is exceedingly delicious, flavoured with vanilla instead of lemon: when this flavouring is used, the sherry may be omitted, and the mixture poured over the _dry_ cakes. _Time_.--About 1/2 hour to infuse the lemon-rind; 5 minutes to boil the cream. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 3s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE SYLLABUB. 1486. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of sherry or white wine, 1/2 grated nutmeg, sugar to taste, 1-1/2 pint of milk. _Mode_.--Put the wine into a bowl, with the grated nutmeg and plenty of pounded sugar, and milk into it the above proportion of milk frothed up. Clouted cream may be laid on the top, with pounded cinnamon or nutmeg and sugar; and a little brandy may be added to the wine before the milk is put in. In some counties, cider is substituted for the wine: when this is used, brandy must always be added. Warm milk may be poured on from a spouted jug or teapot; but it must be held very high. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TIPSY CAKE. 1487. INGREDIENTS.--1 moulded sponge-or Savoy-cake, sufficient sweet wine or sherry to soak it, 6 tablespoonfuls of brandy, 2 oz. of sweet almonds, 1 pint of rich custard. [Illustration: TIPSY CAKE.] _Mode_.--Procure a cake that is three or four days old,--either sponge, Savoy, or rice answering for the purpose of a tipsy cake. Cut the bottom of the cake level, to make it stand firm in the dish; make a small hole in the centre, and pour in and over the cake sufficient sweet wine or sherry, mixed with the above proportion of brandy, to soak it nicely. When the cake is well soaked, blanch and cut the almonds into strips, stick them all over the cake, and pour round it a good custard, made by recipe No. 1423, allowing 8 eggs instead of 5 to the pint of milk. The cakes are sometimes crumbled and soaked, and a whipped cream heaped over them, the same as for trifles. _Time_.--About 2 hours to soak the cake. _Average cost_, 4s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 dish. _Seasonable_ at any time. ALMOND.--The almond-tree is a native of warmer climates than Britain, and is indigenous to the northern parts of Africa and Asia; but it is now commonly cultivated in Italy, Spain, and the south of France. It is not usually grown in Britain, and the fruit seldom ripens in this country: it is much admired for the beauty of its blossoms. In the form of its leaves and blossoms it strongly resembles the peach-tree, and is included in the same genus by botanists; but the fruit, instead of presenting a delicious pulp like the peach, shrivels up as it ripens, and becomes only a tough coriaceous covering to the stone inclosing the eatable kernel, which is surrounded by a thin bitter skin. It flowers early in the spring, and produces fruit in August. There are two sorts of almonds,--sweet and bitter; but they are considered to be only varieties of the species; and though the qualities of the kernels are very different, they are not distinguishable by their appearance. AN EASY WAY OF MAKING A TIPSY CAKE. 1488. INGREDIENTS.--12 stale small sponge-cakes, raisin wine, 1/2 lb. of jam, 1 pint of custard No. 1423. _Mode_.--Soak the sponge-cakes, which should be stale (on this account they should be cheaper), in a little raisin wine; arrange them on a deep glass dish in four layers, putting a layer of jam between each, and pour round them a pint of custard, made by recipe No. 1423, decorating the top with cut preserved fruit. _Time_.--2 hours to soak the cakes. Average cost, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 dish. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE A TRIFLE. 1489. INGREDIENTS.--For the whip, 1 pint of cream, 3 oz. of pounded sugar, the whites of 2 eggs, a small glass of sherry or raisin wine. For the trifle, 1 pint of custard, made with 8 eggs to a pint of milk; 6 small sponge-cakes, or 6 slices of sponge-cake; 12 macaroons, 2 dozen ratafias, 2 oz. of sweet almonds, the grated rind of 1 lemon, a layer of raspberry or strawberry jam, 1/2 pint of sherry or sweet wine, 6 tablespoonfuls of brandy. [Illustration: TRIFLE.] _Mode_.--The whip to lay over the top of the trifle should be made the day before it is required for table, as the flavour is better, and it is much more solid than when prepared the same day. Put into a large bowl the pounded sugar, the whites of the eggs, which should be beaten to a stiff froth, a glass of sherry or sweet wine, and the cream. Whisk these ingredients well in a cool place, and take off the froth with a skimmer as fast as it rises, and put it on a sieve to drain; continue the whisking till there is sufficient of the whip, which must be put away in a cool place to drain. The next day, place the sponge-cakes, macaroons, and ratafias at the bottom of a trifle-dish; pour over them 1/2 pint of sherry or sweet wine, mixed with 6 tablespoonfuls of brandy, and, should this proportion of wine not be found quite sufficient, add a little more, as the cakes should be well soaked. Over the cakes put the grated lemon-rind, the sweet almonds, blanched and cut into strips, and a layer of raspberry or strawberry jam. Make a good custard by recipe No. 1423, using 8 instead of 5 eggs to the pint of milk, and let this cool a little; then pour it over the cakes, &c. The whip being made the day previously, and the trifle prepared, there remains nothing to do now but heap the whip lightly over the top: this should stand as high as possible, and it may be garnished with strips of bright currant jelly, crystallized sweetmeats, or flowers; the small coloured comfits are sometimes used for the purpose of garnishing a trifle, but they are now considered rather old-fashioned. (See coloured plate, V1.) _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 5s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 trifle. _Seasonable_ at any time. VANILLA CREAM. 1490. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of milk, the yolks of 8 eggs, 6 oz. of sugar, 1 oz. of isinglass, flavouring to taste of essence of vanilla. [Illustration: VANILLA-CREAM MOULD.] _Mode_.--Put the milk and sugar into a saucepan, and let it get hot over a slow fire; beat up the yolks of the eggs, to which add gradually the sweetened milk; flavour the whole with essence of vanilla, put the mixture into a jug, and place this jug in a saucepan of boiling water. Stir the contents with a wooden spoon one way until the mixture thickens, but do not allow it to boil, or it will be full of lumps. Take it off the fire; stir in the isinglass, which should be previously dissolved in about 1/4 pint of water, and boiled for 2 or 3 minutes; pour the cream into an oiled mould, put it in a cool place to set, and turn it out carefully on a dish. Instead of using the essence of vanilla, a pod may be boiled in the milk instead, until the flavour is well extracted. A pod, or a pod and a half, will be found sufficient for the above proportion of ingredients. _Time_.--About 10 minutes to stir the mixture. _Average cost_, with the best isinglass, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to fill a quart mould. _Seasonable_ at any time. VANILLE or VANILLA, is the fruit of the vanillier, a parasitical herbaceous plant, which flourishes in Brazil, Mexico, and Peru. The fruit is a long capsule, thick and fleshy. Certain species of this fruit contain a pulp with a delicious perfume and flavour. Vanilla is principally imported from Mexico. The capsules for export are always picked at perfect maturity. The essence is the form in which it is used generally and most conveniently. Its properties are stimulating and exciting. It is in daily use for ices, chocolates, and flavouring confections generally. VICTORIA SANDWICHES. 1491. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs; their weight in pounded sugar, butter, and flour; 1/4 saltspoonful of salt, a layer of any kind of jam or marmalade. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream; dredge in the flour and pounded sugar; stir these ingredients well together, and add the eggs, which should be previously thoroughly whisked. When the mixture has been well beaten for about 10 minutes, butter a Yorkshire-pudding tin, pour in the batter, and bake it in a moderate oven for 20 minutes. Let it cool, spread one half of the cake with a layer of nice preserve, place over it the other half of the cake, press the pieces slightly together, and then cut it into long finger-pieces; pile them in crossbars on a glass dish, and serve. _Time_.--20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. WHIPPED CREAM, for putting on Trifles, serving in Glasses, &c. 1492. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of cream allow 3 oz. of pounded sugar, 1 glass of sherry or any kind of sweet white wine, the rind of 1/2 lemon, the white of 1 egg. [Illustration: PASTRY LEAF.] _Mode_.--Rub the sugar on the lemon-rind, and pound it in a mortar until quite fine, and beat up the white of the egg until quite stiff; put the cream into a large bowl, with the sugar, wine, and beaten egg, and whip it to a froth; as fast as the froth rises, take it off with a skimmer, and put it on a sieve to drain, in a cool place. This should be made the day before it is wanted, as the whip is then so much firmer. The cream should be whipped in a cool place, and in summer, over ice, if it is obtainable. A plain whipped cream may be served on a glass dish, and garnished with strips of angelica, or pastry leaves, or pieces of bright-coloured jelly: it makes a very pretty addition to the supper-table. _Time_.--About 1 hour to whip the cream. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ for 1 dish or 1 trifle. _Seasonable_ at any time. WHIPPED SYLLABUBS. 1493. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of cream, 1/4 pint of sherry, half that quantity of brandy, the juice of 1/2 lemon, a little grated nutmeg, 3 oz. of pounded sugar, whipped cream the same as for trifle No. 1489. _Mode_.--Mix all the ingredients together, put the syllabub into glasses, and over the top of them heap a little whipped cream, made in the same manner as for trifle No. 1489. Solid syllabub is made by whisking or milling the mixture to a stiff froth, and putting it in the glasses, without the whipped cream at the top. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Sufficient_ to fill 8 or 9 glasses. _Seasonable_ at any time. THE CURE'S OMELET. "Every one knows," says Brillat Savarin, in his "Physiology of Taste," "that for twenty years Madame Récamier was the most beautiful woman in Paris. It is also well known that she was exceedingly charitable, and took a great interest in every benevolent work. Wishing to consult the Curé of ---- respecting the working of an institution, she went to his house at five o'clock in the afternoon, and was much astonished at finding him already at his dinner-table. "Madame Récamier wished to retire, but the Curé would not hear of it. A neat white cloth covered the table; some good old wine sparkled in a crystal decanter; the porcelain was of the best; the plates had heaters of boiling water beneath them; a neatly-costumed maid-servant was in attendance. The repast was a compromise between frugality and luxury. The crawfish-soup had just been removed, and there was on the table a salmon-trout, an omelet, and a salad. "'My dinner will tell you,' said the worthy Curé, with a smile, 'that it is fast-day, according to our Church's regulations.' Madame Récamier and her host attacked the trout, the sauce served with which betrayed a skilful hand, the countenance of the Curé the while showing satisfaction. "And now they fell upon the omelet, which was round, sufficiently thick, and cooked, so to speak, to a hair's-breadth. "As the spoon entered the omelet, a thick rich juice issued from it, pleasant to the eye as well as to the smell; the dish became full of it; and our fair friend owns that, between the perfume and the sight, it made her mouth water. "'It is an _omelette au thon_' (that is to say, a tunny omelet), said the Curé, noticing, with the greatest delight, the emotion of Madame Récamier, 'and few people taste it without lavishing praises on it.' "'It surprises me not at all,' returned the beauty; 'never has so enticing an omelet met my gaze at any of our lay tables.' "'My cook understands them well, I think.' "'Yes,' added Madame, 'I never ate anything so delightful.'" Then came the salad, which Savarin recommends to all who place confidence in him. It refreshes without exciting; and he has a theory that it makes people younger. Amidst pleasant converse the dessert arrived. It consisted of three apples, cheese, and a plate of preserves; and then upon a little round table was served the Mocha coffee, for which France has been, and is, so justly famous. "'I never,' said the Curé, 'take spirits; I always offer liqueurs to my guests but reserve the use of them, myself, to my old age, if it should please Providence to grant me that.' "Finally, the charming Madame Récamier took her leave, and told all her friends of the delicious omelet which she had seen and partaken of." And Brillat Savarin, in his capacity as the Layard of the concealed treasures of Gastronomia, has succeeded in withdrawing from obscurity the details of the preparation of which so much had been said, and which he imagines to be as wholesome as it was agreeable. Here follows the recipe:-- OMELETTE AU THON. 1494. Take, for 6 persons, the roes of 2 carp; [Footnote: An American writer says he has followed this recipe, substituting pike, shad, &c., in the place of carp, and can recommend all these also, with a quiet conscience. Any fish, indeed, may be used with success.] bleach them, by putting them, for 5 minutes, in boiling water slightly salted. Take a piece of fresh tunny about the size of a hen's egg, to which add a small shalot already chopped; hash up together the roe and the tunny, so as to mix them well, and throw the whole into a saucepan, with a sufficient quantity of very good butter: whip it up until the butter is melted! This constitutes the specialty of the omelet. Take a second piece of butter, _à discrétion_, mix it with parsley and herbs, place it in a long-shaped dish destined to receive the omelet; squeeze the juice of a lemon over it, and place it on hot embers. Beat up 12 eggs (the fresher the better); throw up the sauté of roe and tunny, stirring it so as to mix all well together; then make your omelet in the usual manner, endeavouring to turn it out long, thick, and soft. Spread it carefully on the dish prepared for it, and serve at once. This dish ought to be reserved for recherché déjeûners, or for assemblies where amateurs meet who know how to eat well; washed down with a good old wine, it will work wonders. _Note_.--The roe and the tunny must be beaten up (sauté) without allowing them to boil, to prevent their hardening, which would prevent them mixing well with the eggs. Your dish should be hollowed towards the centre, to allow the gravy to concentrate, that it may be helped with a spoon. The dish ought to be slightly heated, otherwise the cold china will extract all the heat from the omelet. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXX. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON PRESERVES, CONFECTIONARY, ICES, AND DESSERT DISHES. PRESERVES. 1495. From the nature of vegetable substances, and chiefly from their not passing so rapidly into the putrescent state as animal bodies, the mode of preserving them is somewhat different, although the general principles are the same. All the means of preservation are put in practice occasionally for fruits and the various parts of vegetables, according to the nature of the species, the climate, the uses to which they are applied, &c. Some are dried, as nuts, raisins, sweet herbs, &c.; others are preserved by means of sugar, such as many fruits whose delicate juices would be lost by drying; some are preserved by means of vinegar, and chiefly used as condiments or pickles; a few also by salting, as French beans; while others are preserved in spirits. We have, however, in this place to treat of the best methods of preserving fruits. Fruit is a most important item in the economy of health; the epicurean can scarcely be said to have any luxuries without it; therefore, as it is so invaluable, when we cannot have it fresh, we must have it preserved. It has long been a desideratum to preserve fruits by some cheap method, yet by such as would keep them fit for the various culinary purposes, as making tarts and other similar dishes. The expense of preserving them with sugar is a serious objection; for, except the sugar is used in considerable quantities, the success is very uncertain. Sugar also overpowers and destroys the sub-acid taste so desirable in many fruits: these which are preserved in this manner are chiefly intended for the dessert. Fruits intended for preservation should be gathered in the morning, in dry weather, with the morning sun upon them, if possible; they will then have their fullest flavour, and keep in good condition longer than when gathered at any other time. Until fruit can be used, it should be placed in the dairy, an ice-house, or a refrigerator. In an icehouse it will remain fresh and plump for several days. Fruit gathered in wet or foggy weather will soon be mildewed, and be of no service for preserves. 1496. Having secured the first and most important contribution to the manufacture of preserves,--the fruit, the next consideration is the preparation of the syrup in which the fruit is to be suspended; and this requires much care. In the confectioner's art there is a great nicety in proportioning the degree of concentration of the syrup very exactly to each particular case; and they know this by signs, and express it by certain technical terms. But to distinguish these properly requires very great attention and considerable experience. The principal thing to be acquainted with is the fact, that, in proportion as the syrup is longer boiled, its water will become evaporated, and its consistency will be thicker. Great care must be taken in the management of the fire, that the syrup does not boil over, and that the boiling is not carried to such an extent as to burn the sugar. 1497. The first degree of consistency is called _the thread_, which is subdivided into the little and great thread. If you dip the finger into the syrup and apply it to the thumb, the tenacity of the syrup will, on separating the finger and thumb, afford a thread, which shortly breaks: this is the little thread. If the thread, from the greater tenacity, and, consequently, greater strength of the syrup, admits of a greater extension of the finger and thumb, it is called the great thread. There are half a dozen other terms and experiments for testing the various thickness of the boiling sugar towards the consistency called _caramel_; but that degree of sugar-boiling belongs to the confectioner. A solution of sugar prepared by dissolving two parts of double-refined sugar (the best sugar is the most economical for preserves) in one of water, and boiling this a little, affords a syrup of the right degree of strength, and which neither ferments nor crystallizes. This appears to be the degree called _smooth_ by the confectioners, and is proper to be used for the purposes of preserves. The syrup employed should sometimes be clarified, which is done in the following manner:--Dissolve 2 lbs. of loaf sugar in a pint of water; add to this solution the white of an egg, and beat it well. Put the preserving-pan upon the fire with the solution; stir it with a wooden spatula, and, when it begins to swell and boil up, throw in some cold water or a little oil, to damp the boiling; for, as it rises suddenly, if it should boil over, it would take fire, being of a very inflammable nature. Let it boil up again; then take it off, and remove carefully the scum that has risen. Boil the solution again, throw in a little more cold water, remove the scum, and so on for three or four times successively; then strain it. It is considered to be sufficiently boiled when some taken up in a spoon pours out like oil. 1498. Although sugar passes so easily into the state of fermentation, and is, in fact, the only substance capable of undergoing the vinous stage of that process, yet it will not ferment at all if the quantity be sufficient to constitute a very strong syrup: hence, syrups are used to preserve fruits and other vegetable substances from the changes they would undergo if left to themselves. Before sugar was in use, honey was employed to preserve many vegetable productions, though this substance has now given way to the juice of the sugar-cane. 1499. The fruits that are the most fit for preservation in syrup are, apricots, peaches, nectarines, apples, greengages, plums of all kinds, and pears. As an example, take some apricots not too ripe, make a small slit at the stem end, and push out the stone; simmer them in water till they are softened and about half done, and afterwards throw them into cold water. When they have cooled, take them out and drain them. Put the apricots into the pie-serving-pan with sufficient syrup to cover them; let them boil up three or four times, and then skim them; remove them from the fire, pour them into an earthen pan, and let them cool till next day. Boil them up three days successively, skimming each time, and they will then be finished and in a state fit to be put into pots for use. After each bailing, it is proper to examine into the state of the syrup when cold; if too thin, it will bear additional boiling; if too thick, it may be lowered with more syrup of the usual standard. The reason why the fruit is emptied out of the preserving-pan into an earthen pan is, that the acid of the fruit acts upon the copper, of which the preserving-pans are usually made. From this example the process of preserving fruits by syrup will be easily comprehended. The first object is to soften the fruit by blanching or boiling it in water, in order that the syrup by which it is preserved may penetrate through its substance. 1500. Many fruits, when preserved by boiling, lose much of their peculiar and delicate flavour, as, for instance, pine-apples; and this inconvenience may, in some instances, be remedied by preserving them without heat. Cut the fruit in slices about one fifth of an inch thick, strew powdered loaf sugar an eighth of an inch thick on the bottom of a jar, and put the slices on it. Put more sugar on this, and then another layer of the slices, and so on till the jar is full. Place the jar with the fruit up to the neck in boiling water, and keep it there till the sugar is completely dissolved, which may take half an hour, removing the scum as it rises. Lastly, tie a wet bladder over the mouth of the jar, or cork and wax it. 1501. Any of the fruits that have been preserved in syrup may be converted into dry preserves, by first draining them from the syrup, and then drying them in a stove or very moderate oven, adding to them a quantity of powdered loaf sugar, which will gradually penetrate the fruit, while the fluid parts of the syrup gently evaporate. They should be dried in the stove or oven on a sieve, and turned every six or eight hours, fresh powdered sugar being sifted over them every time they are turned. Afterwards, they are to be kept in a dry situation, in drawers or boxes. Currants and cherries preserved whole in this manner, in bunches, are extremely elegant, and have a fine flavour. In this way it is, also, that orange and lemon chips are preserved. 1502. Marmalades, jams, and fruit pastes are of the same nature, and are now in very general request. They are prepared without difficulty, by attending to a very few directions; they are somewhat expensive, but may be kept without spoiling for a considerable time. Marmalades and jams differ little from each other: they are preserves of a half-liquid consistency, made by boiling the pulp of fruits, and sometimes part of the rinds, with sugar. The appellation of marmalade is applied to those confitures which are composed of the firmer fruits, as pineapples or the rinds of oranges; whereas jams are made of the more juicy berries, such as strawberries, raspberries, currants, mulberries, &c. Fruit pastes are a kind of marmalades, consisting of the pulp of fruits, first evaporated to a proper consistency, and afterwards boiled with sugar. The mixture is then poured into a mould, or spread on sheets of tin, and subsequently dried in the oven or stove till it has acquired the state of a paste. From a sheet of this paste, strips may be cut and formed into any shape that may be desired, as knots, rings, &c. Jams require the same care and attention in the boiling as marmalade; the slightest degree of burning communicates a disagreeable empyreumatic taste, and if they are not boiled sufficiently, they will not keep. That they may keep, it is necessary not to be sparing of sugar. 1503. In all the operations for preserve-making, when the preserving-pan is used, it should not be placed on the fire, but on a trivet, unless the jam is made on a hot plate, when this is not necessary. If the pan is placed close on to the fire, the preserve is very liable to burn, and the colour and flavour be consequently spoiled. 1504. Fruit jellies are compounds of the juices of fruits combined with sugar, concentrated, by boiling, to such a consistency that the liquid, upon cooling, assumes the form of a tremulous jelly. 1505. Before fruits are candied, they must first be boiled in syrup, after which they are taken out and dried on a stove, or before the fire; the syrup is then to be concentrated, or boiled to a candy height, and the fruit dipped in it, and again laid on the stove to dry and candy: they are then to be put into boxes, and kept dry. 1506. Conserves consist of fresh vegetable matters beat into a uniform mass with refined sugar, and they are intended to preserve the virtues and properties of recent flowers, leaves, roots, peels, or fruits, unaltered, and as near as possible to what they were when fresh gathered, and to give them an agreeable taste. 1507. The last-mentioned, but not the least-important preparation of fruit, is the _compôte,_ a confiture made at the moment of need, and with much less sugar than would be ordinarily put to preserves. They are most wholesome things, suitable to most stomachs which cannot accommodate themselves to raw fruit or a large portion of sugar: they are the happy medium, and far better than ordinary stewed fruit. CONFECTIONARY. 1508. In speaking of confectionary, it should be remarked that all the various preparations above named come, strictly speaking, under that head; for the various fruits, flowers, herbs, roots, and juices, which, when boiled with sugar, were formerly employed in pharmacy as well as for sweetmeats, were called _confections_, from the Latin word _conficere_, 'to make up;' but the term confectionary embraces a very large class indeed of sweet food, many kinds of which should not be attempted in the ordinary cuisine. The thousand and one ornamental dishes that adorn the tables of the wealthy should be purchased from the confectioner: they cannot profitably be made at home. Apart from these, cakes, biscuits, and tarts, &c., the class of sweetmeats called confections may be thus classified:--1. Liquid confects, or fruits either whole or in pieces, preserved by being immersed in a fluid transparent syrup; as the liquid confects of apricots, green citrons, and many foreign fruits. 2. Dry confects are those which, after having been boiled in the syrup, are taken out and put to dry in an oven, as citron and orange-peel, &c. 3. Marmalade, jams, and pastes, a kind of soft compounds made of the pulp of fruits or other vegetable substances, beat up with sugar or honey; such as oranges, apricots, pears, &c. 4. Jellies are the juices of fruits boiled with sugar to a pretty thick consistency, so as, upon cooling, to form a trembling jelly; as currant, gooseberry, apple jelly, &c. 5. Conserves are a kind of dry confects, made by beating up flowers, fruits, &c., with sugar, not dissolved. 6. Candies are fruits candied over with sugar after having been boiled in the syrup. DESSERT DISHES. 1509. With moderns the dessert is not so profuse, nor does it hold the same relationship to the dinner that it held with the ancients,--the Romans more especially. On ivory tables they would spread hundreds of different kinds of raw, cooked, and preserved fruits, tarts and cakes, as substitutes for the more substantial comestibles with which the guests were satiated. However, as late as the reigns of our two last Georges, fabulous sums were often expended upon fanciful desserts. The dessert certainly repays, in its general effect, the expenditure upon it of much pains; and it may be said, that if there be any poetry at all in meals, or the process of feeding, there is poetry in the dessert, the materials for which should be selected with taste, and, of course, must depend, in a great measure, upon the season. Pines, melons, grapes, peaches, nectarines, plums, strawberries, apples, pears, oranges, almonds, raisins, figs, walnuts, filberts, medlars, cherries, &c. &c., all kinds of dried fruits, and choice and delicately-flavoured cakes and biscuits, make up the dessert, together with the most costly and _recherché_ wines. The shape of the dishes varies at different periods, the prevailing fashion at present being oval and circular dishes on stems. The patterns and colours are also subject to changes of fashion; some persons selecting china, chaste in pattern and colour; others, elegantly-shaped glass dishes on stems, with gilt edges. The beauty of the dessert services at the tables of the wealthy tends to enhance the splendour of the plate. The general mode of putting a dessert on table, now the elegant tazzas are fashionable, is, to place them down the middle of the table, a tall and short dish alternately; the fresh fruits being arranged on the tall dishes, and dried fruits, bon-bons, &c., on small round or oval glass plates. The garnishing needs especial attention, as the contrast of the brilliant-coloured fruits with nicely-arranged foliage is very charming. The garnish _par excellence_ for dessert is the ice-plant; its crystallized dewdrops producing a marvellous effect in the height of summer, giving a most inviting sense of coolness to the fruit it encircles. The double-edged mallow, strawberry, and vine leaves have a pleasing effect; and for winter desserts, the bay, cuba, and laurel are sometimes used. In town, the expense and difficulty of obtaining natural foliage is great, but paper and composite leaves are to be purchased at an almost nominal price. Mixed fruits of the larger sort are now frequently served on one dish. This mode admits of the display of much taste in the arrangement of the fruit: for instance, a pine in the centre of the dish, surrounded with large plums of various sorts and colours, mixed with pears, rosy-cheeked apples, all arranged with a due regard to colour, have a very good effect. Again, apples and pears look well mingled with plums and grapes, hanging from the border of the dish in a _négligé_ sort of manner, with a large bunch of the same fruit lying on the top of the apples. A dessert would not now be considered complete without candied and preserved fruits and confections. The candied fruits may be purchased at a less cost than they can be manufactured at home. They are preserved abroad in most ornamental and elegant forms. And since, from the facilities of travel, we have become so familiar with the tables of the French, chocolate in different forms is indispensable to our desserts. ICES. 510. Ices are composed, it is scarcely necessary to say, of congealed cream or water, combined sometimes with liqueurs or other flavouring ingredients, or more generally with the juices of fruits. At desserts, or at some evening parties, ices are scarcely to be dispensed with. The principal utensils required for making ice-creams are ice-tubs, freezing-pots, spaddles, and a cellaret. The tub must be large enough to contain about a bushel of ice, pounded small, when brought out of the ice-house, and mixed very carefully with either _salt, nitre,_ or _soda._ The freezing-pot is best made of pewter. If it be of tin, as is sometimes the case, the congelation goes on too rapidly in it for the thorough intermingling of its contents, on which the excellence of the ice greatly depends. The spaddle is generally made of copper, kept bright and clean. The cellaret is a tin vessel, in which ices are kept for a short time from dissolving. The method to be pursued in the freezing process must be attended to. When the ice-tub is prepared with fresh-pounded ice and salt, the freezing-pot is put into it up to its cover. The articles to be congealed are then poured into it and covered over; but to prevent the ingredients from separating and the heaviest of them from falling to the bottom of the mould, it is requisite to turn the freezing-pot round and round by the handle, so as to keep its contents moving until the congelation commences. As soon as this is perceived (the cover of the pot being occasionally taken off for the purpose of noticing when freezing takes place), the cover is immediately closed over it, ice is put upon it, and it is left in this state till it is served. The use of the spaddle is to stir up and remove from the sides of the freezing pot the cream, which in the shaking may have washed against it, and by stirring it in with the rest, to prevent waste of it occurring. Any negligence in stirring the contents of the freezing-pot before congelation takes place, will destroy the whole: either the sugar sinks to the bottom and leaves the ice insufficiently sweetened, or lumps are formed, which disfigure and discolour it. 1511. The aged, the delicate, and children should abstain from ices or iced beverages; even the strong and healthy should partake of them in moderation. They should be taken immediately after the repast, or some hours after, because the taking these substances _during_ the process of digestion is apt to provoke indisposition. It is necessary, then, that this function should have scarcely commenced, or that it should be completely finished, before partaking of ices. It is also necessary to abstain from them when persons are very warm, or immediately after taking violent exercise, as in some cases they have produced illnesses which have ended fatally. [Do ladies know to whom they are indebted for the introduction of ices, which all the fair sex are passionately fond of?--To Catherine de' Medici. Will not this fact cover a multitude of sins committed by the instigator of St. Bartholomew ?] RECIPES. CHAPTER XXXI. TO MAKE SYRUP FOR COMPOTES, &c. 1512. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of sugar allow 1-1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water together for 1/4 hour, carefully removing the scum as it rises: the syrup is then ready for the fruit. The articles boiled in this syrup will not keep for any length of time, it being suitable only for dishes intended to be eaten immediately. A larger proportion of sugar must be added for a syrup intended to keep. _Time_.--1/4 hour. TO CLARIFY SUGAR OR SYRUP. 1513. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of sugar allow 1/2 pint of water and 1/2 the white of an egg. _Mode_.--Put the sugar, water, and the white of the egg, which should, be well beaten, into a preserving-pan or lined saucepan; and do not put it on the fire till the sugar is dissolved. Then place it on the fire, and when it boils, throw in a teacupful of cold water, and do not stir the sugar after this is added. Bring it to the boiling-point again, and then place the pan by the side of the fire, for the preparation to settle. Remove all the scum, and the sugar will be ready for use. The scum should be placed on a sieve, so that what syrup runs from it may be boiled up again: this must also be well skimmed. _Time_.--20 minutes for the sugar to dissolve; 5 minutes to boil. _Note_.--The above two recipes are those used in the preparation of dishes usually made at home. There are many degrees of boiling sugar, which process requires great care, attention, and experience. Caramel sugar, which makes an elegant cover for sweetmeats, is difficult to prepare, and is best left to an experienced confectioner. We give the recipe, for those of our readers who care to attempt the operation. TO BOIL SUGAR TO CARAMEL. 1514. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of lump sugar allow 1 gill of spring water. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water together very quickly over a clear fire, skimming it very carefully as soon as it boils. Keep it boiling until the sugar snaps when a little of it is dropped in a pan of cold water. If it remains hard, the sugar has attained the right degree; then squeeze in a little lemon-juice, and let it remain an instant on the fire. Set the pan into another of cold water, and the caramel is then ready for use. The insides of well-oiled moulds are often ornamented with this sugar, which with a fork should be spread over them in fine threads or network. A dish of light pastry, tastefully arranged, looks very prettily with this sugar spun lightly over it. The sugar must be carefully watched, and taken up the instant it is done. Unless the cook is very experienced and thoroughly understands her business, it is scarcely worth while to attempt to make this elaborate ornament, as it may be purchased quite as economically at a confectioner's, if the failures in the preparation are taken into consideration. COMPOTE OF APPLES. _(Soyer's Recipe,--a Dessert Dish.)_ 1515. INGREDIENTS.--6 ripe apples, 1 lemon, 1/2 lb. of lump sugar, 1/2 pint of water. [Illustration: COMPÔTE OF APPLES.] _Mode_.--Select the apples of a moderate size, peel them, cut them in halves, remove the cores, and rub each piece over with a little lemon. Put the sugar and water together into a lined saucepan, and let them boil until forming a thickish syrup, when lay in the apples with the rind of the lemon cut thin, and the juice of the same. Let the apples simmer till tender; then take them out very carefully, drain them on a sieve, and reduce the syrup by boiling it quickly for a few minutes. When both are cold, arrange the apples neatly on a glass dish, pour over the syrup, and garnish with strips of green angelica or candied citron. Smaller apples may be dressed in the same manner: they should not be divided in half, but peeled and the cores pushed out with a vegetable-cutter. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the sugar and water together; from 15 to 25 minutes to simmer the apples. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ from July to March. APPLE GINGER. (_A Dessert Dish_.) 1516 INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of any kind of hard apples, 2 lbs. of loaf sugar, 1-1/2 pint of water, 1 oz. of tincture of ginger. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water until they form a rich syrup, adding the ginger when it boils up. Pare, core, and cut the apples into pieces; dip them in cold water to preserve the colour, and boil them in the syrup until transparent; but be careful not to let them break. Put the pieces of apple into jars, pour over the syrup, and carefully exclude the air, by well covering them. It will remain good some time, if kept in a dry place. _Time_.--From 5 to 10 minutes to boil the syrup; about 1/2 hour to simmer the apples. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_.--Make this in September, October, or November. APPLE JAM. 1517. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit weighed after being pared, cored, and sliced, allow 3/4 lb. of preserving-sugar, the grated rind of 1 lemon, the juice of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Peel the apples, core and slice them very thin, and be particular that they are all the same sort. Put them into a jar, stand this in a saucepan of boiling water, and let the apples stew until quite tender. Previously to putting the fruit into the jar, weigh it, to ascertain the proportion of sugar that may be required. Put the apples into a preserving-pan, crush the sugar to small lumps, and add it, with the grated lemon-rind and juice, to the apples. Simmer these over the fire for 1/2 hour, reckoning from the time the jam begins to simmer properly; remove the scum as it rises, and when the jam is done, put it into pots for use. Place a piece of oiled paper over the jam, and to exclude the air, cover the pots with tissue-paper dipped in the white of an egg, and stretched over the top. This jam will keep good for a long time. _Time_.--About 2 hours to stew in the jar; 1/2 hour to boil after the jam begins to simmer. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 6s. _Sufficient._--7 or 8 lbs. of apples for 6 pots of jam. _Seasonable_.--Make this in September, October, or November. APPLE JELLY. I. 1518. INGREDIENTS.--To 6 lbs. of apples allow 3 pints of water; to every quart of juice allow 2 lbs. of loaf sugar;--the juice of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Pare, core, and cut the apples into slices, and put them into a jar, with water in the above proportion. Place them in a cool oven, with the jar well covered, and when the juice is thoroughly drawn and the apples are quite soft, strain them through a jelly-bag. To every quart of juice allow 2 lbs. of loaf sugar, which should be crushed to small lumps, and put into a preserving-pan with the juice. Boil these together for rather more than 1/2 hour, remove the scum as it rises, add the lemon-juice just before it is done, and put the jelly into pots for use. This preparation is useful for garnishing sweet dishes, and may be turned out for dessert. _Time_.--The apples to be put in the oven over-night, and left till morning; rather more than 1/2 hour to boil the jelly. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 3s. _Sufficient_ for 6 small pots of jelly. _Seasonable_,--This should be made in September, October, or November. II. 1519. INGREDIENTS.--Apples, water: to every pint of syrup allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Pare and cut the apples into pieces, remove the cores, and put them in a preserving-pan with sufficient cold water to cover them. Let them boil for an hour; then drain the syrup from them through a hair sieve or jelly-bag, and measure the juice; to every pint allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar, and boil these together for 3/4 hour, removing every particle of scum as it rises, and keeping the jelly well stirred, that it may not burn. A little lemon-rind may be boiled with the apples, and a small quantity of strained lemon-juice may be put in the jelly just before it is done, when the flavour is liked. This jelly may be ornamented with preserved greengages, or any other preserved fruit, and will turn out very prettily for dessert. It should be stored away in small pots. _Time_.--1 hour to boil the fruit and water; 3/4 hour to boil the juice with the sugar. _Average cost_, for 6 lbs. of apples, with the other ingredients in proportion, 3s. _Sufficient_ for 6 small pots of jelly. _Seasonable_.--Make this in September, October, or November. TO PRESERVE APPLES IN QUARTERS, in imitation of Ginger. 1520. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of apples allow 3/4 lb. of sugar, 1-1/2 oz. of the best white ginger; 1 oz. of ginger to every 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Peel, core, and quarter the apples, and put the fruit, sugar, and ginger in layers into a wide-mouthed jar, and let them remain for 2 days; then infuse 1 oz. of ginger in 1/2 pint of boiling water, and cover it closely, and let it remain for 1 day: this quantity of ginger and water is for 3 lbs. of apples, with the other ingredients in proportion. Put the apples, &c., into a preserving-pan with the water strained from the ginger, and boil till the apples look clear and the syrup is rich, which will be in about an hour. The rind of a lemon may be added just before the apples have finished boiling; and great care must be taken not to break the pieces of apple in putting them into the jars. Serve on glass dishes for dessert. _Time_.--2 days for the apples to remain in the jar with sugar, &c.; 1 day to infuse the ginger; about 1 hour to boil the apples. _Average cost_, for 3 lbs. of apples, with the other ingredients in proportion, 2s. 3d. _Sufficient._--3 lbs. should fill 3 moderate-sized jars. _Seasonable_.--This should be made in September, October, or November. COMPOTE OF APRICOTS. (_An elegant Dish_.) 1521. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of syrup No. 1512, 12 green apricots. _Mode_.--Make the syrup by recipe No. 1512, and when it is ready, put in the apricots whilst the syrup is boiling. Simmer them very gently until tender, taking care not to let them break; take them out carefully, arrange them on a glass dish, let the syrup cool a little, pour it over the apricots, and, when cold, serve. _Time_.--From 15 to 20 minutes to simmer the apricots. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in June and July, with green apricots. APRICOT JAM or MARMALADE. 1522. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of ripe apricots, weighed after being skinned and stoned, allow 1 lb. of sugar. _Mode_.--Pare the apricots, which should be ripe, as thinly as possible, break them in half, and remove the stones. Weigh the fruit, and to every lb. allow the same proportion of loaf sugar. Pound the sugar very finely in a mortar, strew it over the apricots, which should be placed on dishes, and let them remain for 12 hours. Break the stones, blanch the kernels, and put them with the sugar and fruit into a preserving-pan. Let these simmer very gently until clear; take out the pieces of apricot singly as they become so, and, as fast as the scum rises, carefully remove it. Put the apricots into small jars, pour over them the syrup and kernels, cover the jam with pieces of paper dipped in the purest salad-oil, and stretch over the top of the jars tissue-paper, cut about 2 inches larger and brushed over with the white of an egg: when dry, it will be perfectly hard and air-tight. _Time_.--12 hours sprinkled with sugar; about 3/4 hour to boil the jam. _Average cost_.--When cheap, apricots may be purchased for preserving at about 1s. 6d. per gallon. _Sufficient_,--10 lbs. of fruit for 12 pots of jam. _Seasonable_.--Make this in August or September. BARBERRIES IN BUNCHES. 1523. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of syrup No. 1513, barberries. _Mode_.--Prepare some small pieces of clean white wood, 3 inches long and 1/4 inch wide, and tie the fruit on to these in nice bunches. Have ready some clear syrup, made by recipe No. 1513; put in the barberries, and simmer them in it for 2 successive days, boiling them for nearly 1/2 hour each day, and covering them each time with the syrup when cold. When the fruit looks perfectly clear, it is sufficiently done, and should be stored away in pots, with the syrup poured over, or the fruit may be candied. _Time_.--1/2 hour to simmer each day. _Seasonable_ in autumn. _Note_.--The berries in their natural state make a very pretty garnishing for dishes, and may even be used for the same purpose, preserved as above, and look exceedingly nice on sweet dishes. TO MAKE BARLEY-SUGAR. 1524. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of sugar allow 1/2 pint of water, 1/2 the white of an egg. _Mode_.--Put the sugar into a well-tinned saucepan, with the water, and, when the former is dissolved, set it over a moderate fire, adding the well-beaten egg before the mixture gets warm, and stir it well together. When it boils, remove the scum as it rises, and keep it boiling until no more appears, and the syrup looks perfectly clear; then strain it through a fine sieve or muslin bag, and put it back into the saucepan. Boil it again like caramel, until it is brittle, when a little is dropped in a basin of cold water: it is then sufficiently boiled. Add a little lemon-juice and a few drops of essence of lemon, and let it stand for a minute or two. Have ready a marble slab or large dish, rubbed over with salad-oil; pour on it the sugar, and cut it into strips with a pair of scissors: these strips should then be twisted, and the barley-sugar stored away in a very dry place. It may be formed into lozenges or drops, by dropping the sugar in a very small quantity at a time on to the oiled slab or dish. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 sticks. CARROT JAM TO IMITATE APRICOT PRESERVE. 1525. INGREDIENTS.--Carrots; to every lb. of carrot pulp allow 1 lb. of pounded sugar, the grated rind of 1 lemon, the strained juice of 2, 6 chopped bitter almonds, 2 tablespoonfuls of brandy. _Mode_.--Select young carrots; wash and scrape them clean, cut them into round pieces, put them into a saucepan with sufficient water to cover them, and let them simmer until perfectly soft; then beat them through a sieve. Weigh the pulp, and to every lb. allow the above ingredients. Put the pulp into a preserving-pan with the sugar, and let this boil for 5 minutes, stirring and skimming all the time. When cold, add the lemon-rind and juice, almonds and brandy; mix these well with the jam; then put it into pots, which must be well covered and kept in a dry place. The brandy may be omitted, but the preserve will then not keep: with the brandy it will remain good for months. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to boil the carrots; 5 minutes to simmer the pulp. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. for 1 lb. of pulp, with the other ingredients in proportion. _Sufficient_ to fill 3 pots. _Seasonable_ from July to December. TO MAKE CHERRY BRANDY. 1536. INGREDIENTS.--Morella cherries, good brandy; to every lb. of cherries allow 3 oz. of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Have ready some glass bottles, which must be perfectly dry. Ascertain that the cherries are not too ripe and are freshly gathered, and cut off about half of the stalks. Put them into the bottles, with the above proportion of sugar to every lb. of fruit; strew this in between the cherries, and, when the bottles are nearly full, pour in sufficient brandy to reach just below the cork. A few peach or apricot kernels will add much to their flavour, or a few blanched bitter almonds. Put corks or bungs into the bottles, tie over them a piece of bladder, and store away in a dry place. The cherries will be fit to eat in 2 or 3 months, and will remain good for years. They are liable to shrivel and become tough if too much sugar be added to them. _Average cost_, 1s. to 1s. 6d. per lb. _Sufficient_.--1 lb. of cherries and about 1/4 pint of brandy for a quart bottle. _Seasonable_ in August and September. DRIED CHERRIES. 1527. CHERRIES may be put in a slow oven and thoroughly dried before they begin to change colour. They should then be taken out of the oven, tied in bunches, and stored away in a dry place. In the winter, they may be cooked with sugar for dessert, the same as Normandy pippins. Particular care must be taken that the oven be not too hot. Another method of drying cherries is to stone them, and to put them into a preserving-pan, with plenty of loaf sugar strewed amongst them. They should be simmered till the fruit shrivels, when they should be strained from the juice. The cherries should then be placed in an oven, cool enough to dry without baking them. About 5 oz. of sugar would be required for 1 lb. of cherries, and the same syrup may be used again to do another quantity of fruit. CHERRY JAM. 1528. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit, weighed before stoning, allow 1/2 lb. of sugar; to every 6 lbs. of fruit allow 1 pint of red-currant juice, and to every pint of juice 1 lb. of sugar. _Mode_.--Weigh the fruit before stoning, and allow half the weight of sugar; stone the cherries, and boil them in a preserving-pan until nearly all the juice is dried up; then add the sugar, which should be crushed to powder, and the currant-juice, allowing 1 pint to every 6 lbs. of cherries (original weight), and 1 lb. of sugar to every pint of juice. Boil all together until it jellies, which will be in from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour; skim the jam well, keep it well stirred, and, a few minutes before it is done, crack some of the stones, and add the kernels: these impart a very delicious flavour to the jam. _Time_.--According to the quality of the cherries, from 3/4 to 1 hour to boil them; 20 minutes to 1/2 hour with the sugar. _Average cost_, from 7d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--1 pint of fruit for a lb. pot of jam. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July or August. TO PRESERVE CHERRIES IN SYRUP. (_Very delicious_.) 1529. INGREDIENTS.--4 lbs. of cherries, 3 lbs. of sugar, 1 pint of white-currant juice. _Mode_.--Let the cherries be as clear and as transparent as possible, and perfectly ripe; pick off the stalks, and remove the stones, damaging the fruit as little as you can. Make a syrup with the above proportion of sugar, by recipe No. 1512; mix the cherries with it, and boil them for about 15 minutes, carefully skimming them; turn them gently into a pan, and let them remain till the next day; then drain the cherries on a sieve, and put the syrup and white-currant juice into the preserving-pan again. Boil these together until the syrup is somewhat reduced and rather thick; then put in the cherries, and let them boil for about 5 minutes; take them off the fire, skim the syrup, put the cherries into small pots or wide-mouthed bottles; pour the syrup over, and when quite cold, tie them down carefully, so that the air is quite excluded. _Time_.--15 minutes to boil the cherries in the syrup; 10 minutes to boil the syrup and currant-juice; 6 minutes to boil the cherries the second time. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 3s. 6d. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July or August. BLACK-CURRANT JAM. 1530. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit, weighed before being stripped from the stalks, allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar, 1 gill of water. _Mode_.--Let the fruit be very ripe, and gathered on a dry day. Strip it from the stalks, and put it into a preserving-pan, with a gill of water to each lb. of fruit; boil these together for 10 minutes; then add the sugar, and boil the jam again for 30 minutes, reckoning from the time when the jam simmers equally all over, or longer, should it not appear to set nicely when a little is poured on to a plate. Keep stirring it to prevent it from burning, carefully remove all the scum, and when done, pour it into pots. Let it cool, cover the top of the jam with oiled paper, and the top of the jars with a piece of tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg: this, when cold, forms a hard stiff cover, and perfectly excludes the air. Great attention must be paid to the stirring of this jam, as it is very liable to burn, on account of the thickness of the juice. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the fruit and water; 30 minutes with the sugar, or longer. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. for a pot capable of holding 1 lb. _Sufficient_.--Allow from 6 to 7 quarts of currants to make 1 dozen pots of jam, each pot to hold 1 lb. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July. BLACK-CURRANT JELLY. 1531. INGREDIENTS.--Black currants; to every pint of juice allow 1/4 pint of water, 1 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Strip the currants from the stalks, which may be done in an expeditious manner, by holding the bunch in one hand, and passing a small silver fork down the currants: they will then readily fall from the stalks. Put them into a jar, place this jar in a saucepan of boiling water, and simmer them until their juice is extracted; then strain them, and to every pint of juice allow the above proportion of sugar and water; stir these ingredients together cold until the sugar is dissolved; place the preserving-pan on the fire, and boil the jelly for about 1/2 hour, reckoning from the time it commences to boil all over, and carefully remove the scum as it rises. If the jelly becomes firm when a little is put on a plate, it is done; it should then be put into _small_ pots, and covered the same as the jam in the preceding recipe. If the jelly is wanted very clear, the fruit should not be squeezed dry; but, of course, so much juice will not be obtained. If the fruit is not much squeezed, it may be converted into a jam for immediate eating, by boiling it with a little common sugar: this answers very well for a nursery preserve. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to extract the juice; 1/2 hour to boil the jelly. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per 1/2-lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--From 3 pints to 2 quarts of fruit should yield a pint of juice. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July. RED-CURRANT JAM. 1532. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. [Illustration: JAM-POT.] _Mode_.--Let the fruit be gathered on a fine day; weigh it, and then strip the currants from the stalks; put them into a preserving-pan with sugar in the above proportion; stir them, and boil them for about 3/4 hour. Carefully remove the scum as it rises. Put the jam into pots, and, when cold, cover with oiled papers; over these put a piece of tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg; press the paper round the top of the pot, and, when dry, the covering will be quite hard and air-tight. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour, reckoning from the time the jam boils all over. _Average cost_, for a lb. pot, from 6d. to 8d. _Sufficient_.--Allow from 6 to 7 quarts of currants to make 12 1-lb, pots of jam. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July. RED-CURRANT JELLY. 1533. INGREDIENTS.--Red currants; to every pint of juice allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Have the fruit gathered in fine weather; pick it from the stalks, put it into a jar, and place this jar in a saucepan of boiling water over the fire, and let it simmer gently until the juice is well drawn from the currants; then strain them through a jelly-bag or fine cloth, and, if the jelly is wished very clear, do not squeeze them _too much_, as the skin and pulp from the fruit will be pressed through with the juice, and so make the jelly muddy. Measure the juice, and to each pint allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar; put these into a preserving-pan, set it over the fire, and keep stirring the jelly until it is done, carefully removing every particle of scum as it rises, using a wooden or silver spoon for the purpose, as metal or iron ones would spoil the colour of the jelly when it has boiled from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour, put a little of the jelly on a plate, and if firm when cool, it is done. Take it off the fire, pour it into small gallipots, cover each of the pots with an oiled paper, and then with a piece of tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg. Label the pots, adding the year when the jelly was made, and store it away in a dry place. A jam may be made with the currants, if they are not squeezed too dry, by adding a few fresh raspberries, and boiling all together, with sufficient sugar to sweeten it nicely. As this preserve is not worth storing away, but is only for immediate eating, a smaller proportion of sugar than usual will be found enough: it answers very well for children's puddings, or for a nursery preserve. _Time_.--From 3/4 to 1 hour to extract the juice; 20 minutes to 1/2 hour to boil the jelly. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per 1/2-lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--8 quarts of currants will make from 10 to 12 pots of jelly. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July. _Note_.--Should the above proportion of sugar not be found sufficient for some tastes, add an extra 1/4 lb. to every pint of juice, making altogether 1 lb. WHITE-CURRANT JELLY. 1534. INGREDIENTS.--White currants; to every pint of juice allow 3/4 lb. of good loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Pick the currants from the stalks, and put them into a jar; place this jar in a saucepan of boiling water, and simmer until the juice is well drawn from the fruit, which will be in from 3/4 to 1 hour. Then strain the currants through a fine cloth or jelly-bag; do not squeeze them too much, or the jelly will not be clear, and put the juice into a very clean preserving-pan, with the sugar. Let this simmer gently over a clear fire until it is firm, and keep stirring and skimming until it is done; then pour it into small pots, cover them, and store away in a dry place. _Time_.--3/4 hour to draw the juice; 1/2 hour to boil the jelly. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per 1/2-lb. pot. _Sufficient._--From 3 pints to 2 quarts of fruit should yield 1 pint of juice. _Seasonable_ in July and August. BAKED DAMSONS FOR WINTER USE. 1535. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit allow 6 oz. of pounded sugar; melted mutton suet. _Mode_.--Choose sound fruit, not too ripe; pick off the stalks, weigh it, and to every lb. allow the above proportion of pounded sugar. Put the fruit into large dry stone jars, sprinkling the sugar amongst it; cover the jars with saucers, place them in a rather cool oven, and bake the fruit until it is quite tender. When cold, cover the top of the fruit with a piece of white paper cut to the size of the jar; pour over this melted mutton suet about an inch thick, and cover the tops of the jars with thick brown paper, well tied down. Keep the jars in a cool dry place, and the fruit will remain good till the following Christmas, but not much longer. _Time_.--From 5 to 6 hours to bake the damsons, in a very cool oven. _Seasonable_ in September and October. DAMSON CHEESE. 1536. INGREDIENTS.--Damsons; to every lb. of fruit pulp allow 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Pick the stalks from the damsons, and put them into a preserving-pan; simmer them over the fire until they are soft, occasionally stirring them; then beat them through a coarse sieve, and put the pulp and juice into the preserving-pan, with sugar in the above proportion, having previously carefully weighed them. Stir the sugar well in, and simmer the damsons slowly for 2 hours. Skim well; then boil the preserve quickly for 1/2 hour, or until it looks firm and hard in the spoon; put it quickly into shallow pots, or very tiny earthenware moulds, and, when cold, cover it with oiled papers, and the jars with tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg. A few of the stones may be cracked, and the kernels boiled with the damsons, which very much improves the flavour of the cheese. _Time_.--1 hour to boil the damsons without the sugar; 2 hours to simmer them slowly, 1/2 hour quickly. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per 1/3 lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--1 pint of damsons to make a _very small_ pot of cheese. _Seasonable_.--Make this in September or October. COMPOTE OF DAMSONS. 1537. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of damsons, 1 pint of syrup No. 1512. _Mode_.--Procure sound ripe damsons; pick the stalks from them, and put them into boiling syrup, made by recipe No. 1512. Simmer them gently until the fruit is tender, but not sufficiently soft to break; take them up, boil the syrup for 5 minutes; pour it over the damsons, and serve. This should be sent to table in a glass dish. _Time_.--About 1/4 hour to simmer the damsons; 5 minutes to boil the syrup. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in September and October. DAMSON JAM. 1538. INGREDIENTS.--Damsons; to every lb. of fruit allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Have the fruit gathered in dry weather; pick it over, and reject any that is at all blemished. Stone the damsons, weigh them, and to every lb. allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. Put the fruit and sugar into a preserving-pan; keep stirring them gently until the sugar is dissolved, and carefully remove the scum as it rises. Boil the jam for about an hour, reckoning from the time it commences to simmer all over alike: it must be well stirred all the time, or it will be liable to burn and stick to the pan, which will cause the jam to have a very disagreeable flavour. When the jam looks firm, and the juice appears to set, it is done. Then take it off the fire, put into pots, cover it down, when quite cold, with oiled and egged papers, the same as in recipe No. 1530, and store it away in a dry place. _Time_.--1 hour after the jam simmers all over. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--1-1/2 pint of damsons for a lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in September or October. A VERY NICE PRESERVE OF DAMSONS. 1539. INGREDIENTS.--To every quart of damsons allow 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Put the damsons (which should be picked from the stalks and quite free from blemishes) into a jar, with pounded sugar sprinkled amongst them in the above proportion; tie the jar closely down, set it in a saucepan of cold water; bring it gradually to boil, and simmer gently until the damsons are soft, without being broken. Let them stand till cold; then strain the juice from them, boil it up well, strain it through a jelly-bag, and pour it over the fruit. Let it cool, cover with oiled papers, and the jars with tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg, and store away in a dry cool place. _Time_.--About 3/4 hour to simmer the fruit after the water boils; 1/4 hour to boil the juice. _Seasonable_.--Make this in September or October. TO PRESERVE DAMSONS, OR ANY KIND OF PLUMS. (_Useful in Winter_.) 1540. INGREDIENTS.--Damsons or plums; boiling water. _Mode_.--Pick the fruit into clean dry stone jars, taking care to leave out all that are broken or blemished. When full, pour boiling water on the plums, until it stands one inch above the fruit; cut a piece of paper to fit the inside of the jar, over which pour melted mutton-suet; cover down with brown paper, and keep the jars in a dry cool place. When used, the suet should be removed, the water poured off, and the jelly at the bottom of the jar used and mixed with the fruit. _Seasonable_ in September and October. COMPOTE OF GREEN FIGS. [Illustration: COMPÔTE OF FIGS.] 1541. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of syrup No. 1512, 1-1/2 pint of green figs, the rind of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Make a syrup by recipe No. 1512, boiling with it the lemon-rind, and carefully remove all the scum as it rises. Put in the figs, and simmer them very slowly until tender; dish them on a glass dish; reduce the syrup by boiling it quickly for 5 minutes; take out the lemon-peel, pour the syrup over the figs, and the compote, when cold, will be ready for table. A little port wine, or lemon-juice, added just before the figs are done, will be found an improvement. _Time_.--2 to 3 hours to stew the figs. _Average cost_, figs, 2s. to 3s. per dozen. _Seasonable_ in August and September. TO BOTTLE FRESH FRUIT. (_Very useful in Winter_.) I. 1542. INGREDIENTS.--Fresh fruits, such as currants, raspberries, cherries, gooseberries, plums of all kinds, damsons, &c.; wide-mouthed glass bottles, new corks to fit them tightly. _Mode_.--Let the fruit be full grown, but not too ripe, and gathered in dry weather. Pick it off the stalks without bruising or breaking the skin, and reject any that is at all blemished: if gathered in the damp, or if the skins are cut at all, the fruit will mould. Have ready some _perfectly dry_ glass bottles, and some nice new soft corks or bungs; burn a match in each bottle, to exhaust the air, and quickly place the fruit in to be preserved; gently cork the bottles, and put them into a very cool oven, where let them remain until the fruit has shrunk away a fourth part. Then take the bottles out; _do not open them,_ but immediately beat the corks in tight, cut off the tops, and cover them with melted resin. If kept in a dry place, the fruit will remain good for months; and on this principally depends the success of the preparation; for if stored away in a place that is in the least damp, the fruit will soon spoil. _Time_.--From 5 to 6 hours in a very slow oven. II. 1543. INGREDIENTS.--Any kind of fresh fruit, such as currants, cherries, gooseberries, all kinds of plums, &c.; wide-mouthed glass bottles, new corks to fit them tightly. _Mode_.--The fruit must be full-grown, not too ripe, and gathered on a fine day. Let it be carefully picked and put into the bottles, which must be clean and perfectly dry. Tie over the tops of the bottles pieces of bladder; stand the bottles in a large pot, copper, or boiler, with cold water to reach to their necks; kindle a fire under, let the water boil, and as the bladders begin to rise and puff, prick them. As soon as the water boils, extinguish the fire, and let the bottles remain where they are, to become cold. The next day remove the bladders, and strew over the fruit a thick layer of pounded sugar; fit the bottles with corks, and let each cork lie close at hand to its own bottle. Hold for a few moments, in the neck of the bottle, two or three lighted matches, and when they have filled the bottle neck with gas, and before they go out, remove them very quickly; instantly cork the bottle closely, and dip it in bottle cement. _Time_.--Altogether about 8 hours. TO BOTTLE FRESH FRUIT WITH SUGAR. (_Very useful in Winter_.) 1544. INGREDIENTS.--Any kind of fresh fruit; to each quart bottle allow 1/4 lb. of pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Let the fruit be gathered in dry weather. Pick it carefully, and drop it into _clean_ and _very dry_ quart glass bottles, sprinkling over it the above proportion of pounded sugar to each quart. Put the corks in the bottles, and place them in a copper of cold water up to their necks, with small hay-wisps round them, to prevent the bottles from knocking together. Light the fire under, bring the water gradually to boil, and let it simmer gently until the fruit in the bottles is reduced nearly one third. Extinguish the fire, _and let the bottles remain in the water until it is perfectly cold;_ then take them out, make the corks secure, and cover them with melted resin or wax. _Time_.--About 1 hour from the time the water commences to boil. TO FROST HOLLY-LEAVES, for garnishing and decorating Dessert and Supper Dishes. 1545.--INGREDIENTS.--Sprigs of holly, oiled butter, coarsely-powdered sugar. _Mode_.--Procure some nice sprigs of holly; pick the leaves from the stalks, and wipe them with a clean cloth free from all moisture; then place them on a dish near the fire, to get thoroughly dry, but not too near to shrivel the leaves; dip them into oiled butter, sprinkle over them some coarsely-powdered sugar, and dry them before the fire. They should be kept in a dry place, as the least damp would spoil their appearance. _Time_.--About 10 minutes to dry before the fire. _Seasonable_.--These may be made at any time; but are more suitable for winter garnishes, when fresh flowers are not easily obtained. COMPOTE OF GOOSEBERRIES. 1546. INGREDIENTS.--Syrup made by recipe No. 1512; to 1 pint of syrup allow nearly a quart of gooseberries. _Mode_.--Top and tail the gooseberries, which should not be very ripe, and pour over them some boiling water; then take them out, and plunge them into cold water, with which has been mixed a tablespoonful of vinegar, which will assist to keep the fruit a good colour. Make a pint of syrup by recipe No. 1512, and when it boils, drain the gooseberries and put them in; simmer them gently until the fruit is nicely pulped and tender, without being broken; then dish the gooseberries on a glass dish, boil the syrup for 2 or 3 minutes, pour over the gooseberries, and serve cold. _Time_.--About 5 minutes to boil the gooseberries in the syrup; 3 minutes to reduce the syrup. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_,--a quart of gooseberries for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in June. GOOSEBERRY JAM. I. 1547. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar; currant-juice. _Mode_.--Select red hairy gooseberries; have them gathered in dry weather, when quite ripe, without being too soft. Weigh them; with a pair of scissors, cut off the tops and tails, and to every 6 lbs. of fruit have ready 1/2 pint of red-currant juice, drawn as for jelly. Put the gooseberries and currant-juice into a preserving-pan; let them boil tolerably quickly, keeping them well stirred; when they begin to break, add to them the sugar, and keep simmering until the jam becomes firm, carefully skimming: and stirring it, that it does not burn at the bottom. It should be boiled rather a long time, or it will not keep. Put it into pots (not too large); let it get perfectly cold; then cover the pots down with oiled and egged papers, as directed for red-currant jelly No. 1533. _Time_.--About 1 hour to boil the gooseberries in the currant-juice; from 1/2 to 3/4 hour with the sugar. _Average cost_, per lb. pot, from 6d. to 8d. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1-1/2 pint of fruit for a lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in June or July. II. 1548. INGREDIENTS.--To every 8 lbs. of red, rough, ripe gooseberries allow 1 quart of red-currant juice, 5 lbs. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Have the fruit gathered in dry weather, and cut off the tops and tails. Prepare 1 quart of red-currant juice, the same as for red-currant jelly No. 1533; put it into a preserving-pan with the sugar, and keep stirring until the latter is dissolved. Keep it boiling for about 5 minutes; skim well; then put in the gooseberries, and let them boil from 1/2 to 3/4 hour; then turn the whole into an earthen pan, and let it remain for 2 days. Boil the jam up again until it looks clear; put it into pots, and when cold, cover with oiled paper, and over the jars put tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg, and store away in a dry place. Care must be taken, in making this, to keep the jam well stirred and well skimmed, to prevent it burning at the bottom of the pan, and to have it very clear. _Time_.--5 minutes to boil the currant-juice and sugar after the latter is dissolved; from 1/2 to 3/4 hour to simmer the gooseberries the first time, 1/4 hour the second time of boiling. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1-1/2 pint of fruit for a lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in June or July. WHITE OR GREEN GOOSEBERRY JAM. 1549. INGREDIENTS.--Equal weight of fruit and sugar. _Mode_.--Select the gooseberries not very ripe, either white or green, and top and tail them. Boil the sugar with water (allowing 1/2 pint to every lb.) for about 1/4 hour, carefully removing the scum as it rises; then put in the gooseberries, and simmer gently till clear and firm: try a little of the jam on a plate; if it jellies when cold, it is done, and should then be poured into pots. When cold, cover with oiled paper, and tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the unbeaten white of an egg, and store away in a dry place. _Time_.--1/4 hour to boil the sugar and water, 3/4 hour the jam. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1-1/2 pint of fruit for a lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in June. GOOSEBERRY JELLY. 1550. INGREDIENTS.--Gooseberries; to every pint of juice allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Put the gooseberries, after cutting off the tops and tails, into a preserving-pan, and stir them over the fire until they are quite soft; then strain them through a sieve, and to every pint of juice allow 3/4 lb. of sugar. Boil the juice and sugar together for nearly 3/4 hour, stirring and skimming all the time; and if the jelly appears firm when a little of it is poured on to a plate, it is done, and should then be taken up and put into small pots. Cover the pots with oiled and egged papers, the same as for currant jelly No. 1533, and store away in a dry place. _Time_.--3/4 hour to simmer the gooseberries without the sugar; 3/4 hour to boil the juice. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per 1/2-lb. pot. _Seasonable_ in July. COMPOTE OF GREENGAGES. 1551. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of syrup made by recipe No. 1512, 1 quart of greengages. _Mode_.--Make a syrup by recipe No. 1512, skim it well, and put in the greengages when the syrup is boiling, having previously removed the stalks and stones from the fruit. Boil gently for 1/4 hour, or until the fruit is tender; but take care not to let it break, as the appearance of the dish would be spoiled were the fruit reduced to a pulp. Take the greengages carefully out, place them on a glass dish, boil the syrup for another 5 minutes, let it cool a little, pour over the fruit, and, when cold, it will be ready for use. _Time_.--1/4 hour to simmer the fruit, 5 minutes the syrup. _Average cost_, in full season, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in July, August, and September. GREENGAGE JAM. 1552. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit, weighed before being stoned, allow 3/4 lb. of lump sugar. _Mode_.--Divide the greengages, take out the stones, and put them into a preserving-pan. Bring the fruit to a boil, then add the sugar, and keep stirring it over a gentle fire until it is melted. Remove all the scum as it rises, and, just before the jam is done, boil it rapidly for 5 minutes. To ascertain when it is sufficiently boiled, pour a little on a plate, and if the syrup thickens and appears firm, it is done. Have ready half the kernels blanched; put them into the jam, give them one boil, and pour the preserve into pots. When cold, cover down with oiled papers, and, over these, tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg. _Time_.--3/4 hour after the sugar is added. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient._--Allow about 1-1/2 pint of fruit for every lb. pot of jam. _Seasonable_.--Make this in August or September. TO PRESERVE AND DRY GREENGAGES. 1553. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of sugar allow 1 lb. of fruit, 1/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--For this purpose, the fruit must be used before it is quite ripe, and part of the stalk must be left on. Weigh the fruit, rejecting all that is in the least degree blemished, and put it into a lined saucepan with the sugar and water, which should have been previously boiled together to a rich syrup. Boil the fruit in this for 10 minutes, remove it from the fire, and drain the greengages. The next day, boil up the syrup and put in the fruit again, and let it simmer for 3 minutes, and drain the syrup away. Continue this process for 5 or 6 days, and the last time place the greengages, when drained, on a hair sieve, and put them in an oven or warm spot to dry; keep them in a box, with paper between each layer, in a place free from damp. _Time_.--10 minutes the first time of boiling. _Seasonable_.--Make this in August or September. PRESERVED GREENGAGES IN SYRUP. 1554. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit allow 1 lb. of loaf sugar 1/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water together for about 10 minutes; divide the greengages, take out the stones, put the fruit into the syrup, and let it simmer gently until nearly tender. Take it off the fire, put it into a large pan, and, the next day, boil it up again for about 10 minutes with the kernels from the stones, which should be blanched. Put the fruit carefully into jars, pour over it the syrup, and, when cold, cover down, so that the air is quite excluded. Let the syrup be well skimmed both the first and second day of boiling, otherwise it will not be clear. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the syrup; 1/4 hour to simmer the fruit the first day, 10 minutes the second day. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient._--Allow about 1 pint of fruit to fill a 1-lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in August or September. TO MAKE FRUIT ICE-CREAMS. 1555. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of fruit-juice allow 1 pint of cream; sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Let the fruit be well ripened; pick it off the stalks, and put it into a large earthen pan. Stir it about with a wooden spoon, breaking it until it is well mashed; then, with the back of the spoon, rub it through a hair sieve. Sweeten it nicely with pounded sugar; whip the cream for a few minutes, add it to the fruit, and whisk the whole again for another 5 minutes. Put the mixture into the freezing-pot, and freeze in the same manner as directed for Ice Pudding, No. 1290, taking care to stir the cream, &c., two or three times, and to remove it from the sides of the vessel, that the mixture may be equally frozen and smooth. Ices are usually served in glasses, but if moulded, as they sometimes are for dessert, must have a small quantity of melted isinglass added to them, to enable them to keep their shape. Raspberry, strawberry, currant, and all fruit ice-creams, are made in the same manner. A little pounded sugar sprinkled over the fruit before it is mashed assists to extract the juice. In winter, when fresh fruit is not obtainable, a little jam may be substituted for it: it should be melted and worked through a sieve before being added to the whipped cream; and if the colour should not be good, a little prepared cochineal or beetroot may be put in to improve its appearance. _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Average cost_, with cream at 1s. per pint, 4d. each ice. _Seasonable_, with fresh fruit, in June, July, and August. TO MAKE FRUIT-WATER ICES. 1556. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of fruit-juice allow 1 pint of syrup made by recipe No. 1513. [Illustration: DISH OF ICES.] _Mode_.--Select nice ripe fruit; pick off the stalks, and put it into a large earthen pan, with a little pounded sugar strewed over; stir it about with a wooden spoon until it is well broken, then rub it through a hair sieve. Make the syrup by recipe No. 1513, omitting the white of the egg; let it cool, add the fruit-juice, mix well together, and put the mixture into the freezing-pot. Proceed as directed for Ice Puddings, No. 1290, and when the mixture is equally frozen, put it into small glasses. Raspberry, strawberry, currant, and other fresh-fruit-water ices, are made in the same manner. _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Average cost_, 3d. to 4d. each. _Seasonable_, with fresh fruit, in June, July, and August. LEMON-WATER ICE. 1557. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of syrup, made by recipe No. 1513, allow 1/3 pint of lemon-juice; the rind of 4 lemons. _Mode_.--Rub the sugar on the rinds of the lemons, and with it make the syrup by recipe No. 1513, omitting the white of egg. Strain the lemon-juice, add it to the other ingredients, stir well, and put the mixture into a freezing-pot. Freeze as directed for Ice Pudding, No. 1290, and, when the mixture is thoroughly and equally frozen, put it into ice-glasses. _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Average cost_, 3d. to 4d. each. _Seasonable_ at any time. ICED CURRANTS, for Dessert. 1558. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 pint of water, the whites of 2 eggs, currants, pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Select very fine bunches of red or white currants, and well beat the whites of the eggs. Mix these with the water; then take the currants, a bunch at a time, and dip them in; let them drain for a minute or two, and roll them in very fine pounded sugar. Lay them to dry on paper, when the sugar will crystallize round each currant, and have a very pretty effect. All fresh fruit may be prepared in the same manner; and a mixture of various fruits iced in this manner, and arranged on one dish, looks very well for a summer dessert. _Time_.--1/4 day to dry the fruit. _Average cost_, 8d. for a pint of iced currants. _Seasonable_ in summer. MELONS. 1559.--This fruit is rarely preserved or cooked in any way, and should be sent to table on a dish garnished with leaves or flowers, as fancy dictates. A border of any other kind of small fruit, arranged round the melon, has a pretty effect, the colour the former contrasting nicely with the melon. Plenty of pounded sugar should be served with it; and the fruit should be cut lengthwise, in moderate-sized slices. In America, it is frequently eaten with pepper and salt. _Average cost_,--English, in full season, 3s. 6d. to 5s. each; when scarce, 10s. to 15s.; _seasonable_, June to August. French, 2s. to 3s. 6d. each; _seasonable_, June and July. Dutch, 9d. to 2s. each; _seasonable_, July and August. MELON.--The melon is a most delicious fruit, succulent, cool, and high-flavoured. With us, it is used only at the dessert, and is generally eaten with sugar, ginger, or pepper; but, in France, it is likewise served up at dinner as a sauce for boiled meats. It grows wild in Tartary, and has been lately found in abundance on the sandy plains of Jeypoor. It was brought originally from Asia by the Romans, and is said to have been common in England in the time of Edward III., though it is supposed that it was lost again, as well as the cucumber, during the wars of York and Lancaster. The best kind, called the _Cantaloupe_, from the name of a place near Rome where it was first cultivated in Europe, is a native of Armenia, where it grows so plentifully that a horse-load may be bought for a crown. PRESERVED MULBERRIES. 1560. INGREDIENTS.--To 2 lbs. of fruit and 1 pint of juice allow 2-1/2 lbs. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Put some of the fruit into a preserving-pan, and simmer it gently until the juice is well drawn. Strain it through a bag, measure it, and to every pint allow the above proportion of sugar and fruit. Put the sugar into the preserving-pan, moisten it with the juice, boil it up, skim well, and then add the mulberries, which should be ripe, but not soft enough to break to a pulp. Let them stand in the syrup till warm through, then set them on the fire to boil gently; when half done, turn them carefully into an earthen pan, and let them remain till the next day; then boil them as before, and when the syrup is thick, and becomes firm when cold, put the preserve into pots. In making this, care should be taken not to break the mulberries: this may be avoided by very gentle stirring, and by simmering the fruit very slowly. _Time_.--3/4 hour to extract the juice; 1/4 hour to boil the mulberries the first time, 1/4 hour the second time. _Seasonable_ in August and September. [Illustration: MULBERRY.] MULBERRY.--Mulberries are esteemed for their highly aromatic flavour, and their sub-acid nature. They are considered as cooling, laxative, and generally wholesome. This fruit was very highly esteemed by the Romans, who appear to have preferred it to every other. The mulberry-tree is stated to have been introduced into this country in 1548, being first planted at Sion House, where the original trees still thrive. The planting of them was much encouraged by King James I. about 1605; and considerable attempts were made at that time to rear silkworms on a large scale for the purpose of making silk; but these endeavours have always failed, the climate being scarcely warm enough. TO PRESERVE MORELLO CHERRIES. 1561. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of cherries allow 1-1/4 lb. of sugar, 1 gill of water. _Mode_.--Select ripe cherries; pick off the stalks, and reject all that have any blemishes. Boil the sugar and water together for 5 minutes; put in the cherries, and boil them for 10 minutes, removing the scum as it rises. Then turn the fruit, &c. into a pan, and let it remain until the next day, when boil it all again for another 10 minutes, and, if necessary, skim well. Put the cherries into small pots; pour over them the syrup, and, when cold, cover down with oiled papers, and the tops of the jars with tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg, and keep in a dry place. _Time_.--Altogether, 25 minutes to boil. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July or August. THE CHERRY-TREE IN ROME.--The Cherry-tree was introduced into Rome by Lucullus about seventy years before the Christian era; but the capital of the world knew not at first how to appreciate this present as it deserved; for the cherry-tree was propagated so slowly in Italy, that more than a century after its introduction it was far from being generally cultivated. The Romans distinguished three principal species of cherries--the _Apronian_, of a bright red, with a firm and delicate pulp; the _Lutatian_, very black and sweet; the _Caecilian_, round and stubby, and much esteemed. The cherry embellished the third course in Rome and the second at Athens. PRESERVED NECTARINES. 1562. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of sugar allow 1/4 pint of water; nectarines. _Mode_.--Divide the nectarines in two, take out the stones, and make a strong syrup with sugar and water in the above proportion. Put in the nectarines, and boil them until they have thoroughly imbibed the sugar. Keep the fruit as whole as possible, and turn it carefully into a pan. The next day boil it again for a few minutes, take out the nectarines, put them into jars, boil the syrup quickly for 5 minutes, pour it over the fruit, and, when cold, cover the preserve down. The syrup and preserve must be carefully skimmed, or it will not be clear. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the sugar and water; 20 minutes to boil the fruit the first time, 10 minutes the second time; 5 minutes to boil the syrup. _Seasonable_ in August and September, but cheapest in September. STEWED NORMANDY PIPPINS. 1563. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of Normandy pippins, 1 quart of water, 1/2 teaspoonful of powdered cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoonful of ground ginger, 1 lb. of moist sugar, 1 lemon. _Mode_.--Well wash the pippins, and put them into 1 quart of water with the above proportion of cinnamon and ginger, and let them stand 12 hours; then put these all together into a stewpan, with the lemon sliced thinly, and half the moist sugar. Let them boil slowly until the pippins are half done; then add the remainder of the sugar, and simmer until they are quite tender. Serve on glass dishes for dessert. _Time_.--2 to 3 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for a winter dish. ICED ORANGES. 1564. INGREDIENTS.--Oranges; to every lb. of pounded loaf sugar allow the whites of 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Whisk the whites of the eggs well, stir in the sugar, and beat this mixture for 1/4 hour. Skin the oranges, remove as much of the white pith as possible without injuring the pulp of the fruit; pass a thread through the centre of each orange, dip them into the sugar, and tie them to a stick. Place this stick across the oven, and let the oranges remain until dry, when they will have the appearance of balls of ice. They make a pretty dessert or supper dish. Care must be taken not to have the oven too fierce, or the oranges would scorch and acquire a brown colour, which would entirely spoil their appearance. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 1 hour to dry in a moderate oven. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. each. _Sufficient_.--1/2 lb. of sugar to ice 12 oranges. _Seasonable_ from November to May. THE FIRST ORANGE-TREE IN FRANCE.--The first Orange-tree cultivated in the centre of France was to be seen a few years ago at Fontainebleau. It was called _Le Connétable_ (the Constable), because it had belonged to the Connétable de Bourbon, and had been confiscated, together with all property belonging to that prince, after his revolt against his sovereign. COMPOTE OF ORANGES. 1565. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of syrup No. 1512, 6 oranges. _Mode_.--Peel the oranges, remove as much of the white pith as possible, and divide them into small pieces without breaking the thin skin with which they are surrounded. Make the syrup by recipe No. 1512, adding the rind of the orange cut into thin narrow strips. When the syrup has been well skimmed, and is quite clear, put in the pieces of orange, and simmer them for 5 minutes. Take them out carefully with a spoon without breaking them, and arrange them on a glass dish. Reduce the syrup by boiling it quickly until thick; let it cool a little, pour it over the oranges, and, when cold, they will be ready for table. [Illustration: COMPÔTE OF ORANGES.] _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the syrup; 5 minutes to simmer the oranges; 5 minutes to reduce the syrup. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to May. THE ORANGE IN PORTUGAL.--The Orange known under the name of "Portugal Orange" comes originally from China. Not more than two centuries ago, the Portuguese brought thence the first scion, which has multiplied so prodigiously that we now see entire forests of orange-trees in Portugal. ORANGE AND CLOVES.--It appears to have been the custom formerly, in England, to make new year's presents with oranges stuck full with cloves. We read in one of Ben Jonson's pieces,--the "Christmas Masque,"--"He has an orange and rosemary, but not a clove to stick in it." ORANGE MARMALADE. I. 1566. INGREDIENTS.--Equal weight of fine loaf sugar and Seville oranges; to 12 oranges allow 1 pint of water. _Mode_.--Let there be an equal weight of loaf sugar and Seville oranges, and allow the above proportion of water to every dozen oranges. Peel them carefully, remove a little of the white pith, and boil the rinds in water 2 hours, changing the water three times to take off a little of the bitter taste. Break the pulp into small pieces, take out all the pips, and cut the boiled rind into chips. Make a syrup with the sugar and water; boil this well, skim it, and, when clear, put in the pulp and chips. Boil all together from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour; pour it into pots, and, when cold, cover down with bladders or tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg. The juice and grated rind of 2 lemons to every dozen of oranges, added with the pulp and chips to the syrup, are a very great improvement to this marmalade. _Time_.--2 hours to boil the orange-rinds; 10 minutes to boil the syrup; 20 minutes to 1/2 hour to boil the marmalade. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--This should be made in March or April, as Seville oranges are then in perfection. II. 1567. INGREDIENTS.--Equal weight of Seville oranges and sugar; to every lb. of sugar allow 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Weigh the sugar and oranges, score the skin across, and take it off in quarters. Boil these quarters in a muslin bag in water until they are quite soft, and they can be pierced easily with the head of a pin; then cut them into chips about 1 inch long, and as thin as possible. Should there be a great deal of white stringy pulp, remove it before cutting the rind into chips. Split open the oranges, scrape out the best part of the pulp, with the juice, rejecting the white pith and pips. Make a syrup with the sugar and water; boil it until clear; then put in the chips, pulp, and juice, and boil the marmalade from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour, removing all the scum as it rises. In boiling the syrup, clear it carefully from scum before the oranges are added to it. _Time_.--2 hours to boil the rinds, 10 minutes the syrup, 20 minutes to 1/2 hour the marmalade. _Average cost_, 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in March or April, when Seville oranges are in perfection. AN EASY WAY OF MAKING ORANGE MARMALADE. 1568. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of pulp allow 1-1/2 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Choose some fine Seville oranges; put them whole into a stewpan with sufficient water to cover them, and stew them until they become perfectly tender, changing the water 2 or 3 times; drain them, take off the rind, remove the pips from the pulp, weigh it, and to every lb. allow 1-1/2 of loaf sugar and 1/2 pint of the water the oranges were last boiled in. Boil the sugar and water together for 10 minutes; put in the pulp, boil for another 10 minutes; then add the peel cut into strips, and boil the marmalade for another 10 minutes, which completes the process. Pour it into jars; let it cool; then cover down with bladders, or tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg. _Time_.--2 hours to boil the oranges; altogether 1/2 hour to boil the marmalade. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_--Make this in March or April. ORANGE MARMALADE MADE WITH HONEY. 1569. INGREDIENTS.--To 1 quart of the juice and pulp of Seville oranges allow 2 lbs. of honey, 1 lb. of the rind. _Mode_.--Peel the oranges and boil the rind in water until tender, and cut it into strips. Take away the pips from the juice and pulp, and put it with the honey and chips into a preserving-pan; boil all together for about 1/2 hour, or until the marmalade is of the proper consistency; put it into pots, and, when cold, cover down with bladders. _Time_.--2 hours to boil the rind, 1/2 hour the marmalade. _Average cost_, from 7d. to 9d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Make this in March or April. TO PRESERVE ORANGES. 1570. INGREDIENTS.--Oranges; to every lb. of juice and pulp allow 2 lbs. of loaf sugar; to every pint of water 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Wholly grate or peel the oranges, taking off only the thin outside portion of the rind. Make a small incision where the stalk is taken out, squeeze out as much of the juice as can be obtained, and preserve it in a basin with the pulp that accompanies it. Put the oranges into cold water; let them stand for 3 days, changing the water twice; then boil them in fresh water till they are very tender, and put them to drain. Make a syrup with the above proportion of sugar and water, sufficient to cover the oranges; let them stand in it for 2 or 3 days; then drain them well. Weigh the juice and pulp, allow double their weight of sugar, and boil them together until the scum ceases to rise, which must all be carefully removed; put in the oranges, boil them for 10 minutes, place them in jars, pour over them the syrup, and, when cold, cover down. They will be fit for use in a week. _Time_.--3 days for the oranges to remain in water, 3 days in the syrup; 1/2 hour to boil the pulp, 10 minutes the oranges. _Seasonable_.--This preserve should be made in February or March, when oranges are plentiful. ORANGE SALAD. 1571. INGREDIENTS.--6 oranges, 1/4 lb. of muscatel raisins, 2 oz. of pounded sugar, 4 tablespoonfuls of brandy. _Mode_.--Peel 5 of the oranges; divide them into slices without breaking the pulp, and arrange them on a glass dish. Stone the raisins, mix them with the sugar and brandy, and mingle them with the oranges. Squeeze the juice of the other orange over the whole, and the dish is ready for table. A little pounded spice may be put in when the flavour is liked; but this ingredient must be added very sparingly. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from November to May. COMPOTE OF PEACHES. 1572. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of syrup No. 1512, about 15 small peaches. _Mode_.--Peaches that are not very large, and that would not look well for dessert, answer very nicely for a compôte. Divide the peaches, take out the stones, and pare the fruit; make a syrup by recipe No. 1512, put in the peaches, and stew them gently for about 10 minutes. Take them out without breaking, arrange them on a glass dish, boil the syrup for 2 or 3 minutes, let it cool, pour it over the fruit, and, when cold, it will be ready for table. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ in August and September. PEACH AND NECTARINE.--The peach and nectarine, which are among the most delicious of our fruits, are considered as varieties of the same species, produced by cultivation. The former is characterized by a very delicate down, while the latter is smooth; but, as a proof of their identity as to species, trees have borne peaches on one part and nectarines on another; and even a single fruit has had down on one side, and on the other none; the trees are almost exactly alike, as well as the blossoms. Pliny states that the peach was originally brought from Persia, where it grows naturally. At Montreuil, a village near Paris, almost the whole population is employed in the cultivation of peaches; and this occupation has maintained the inhabitants for ages, and, in consequence, they raise better peaches than anywhere else in France. In Maryland and Virginia, peaches grow nearly wild in orchards resembling forests; but the fruit is of little value for the table, being employed only in fattening hogs and for the distillation of peach brandy. On the east side of the Andes, peaches grow wild among the cornfields and in the mountains, and are dried as an article of food. The young leaves of the peach are sometimes used in cookery, from their agreeable flavour; and a liqueur resembling the fine noyeau of Martinique may be made by steeping them in brandy sweetened with sugar and fined with milk: gin may also be flavoured in the same manner. The kernels of the fruit have the same flavour. The nectarine is said to have received its name from nectar, the particular drink of the gods. Though it is considered as the same species as the peach, it is not known which of the varieties come from the other; the nectarine, is by some considered as the superior fruit. PEACHES PRESERVED IN BRANDY. 1573. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit weighed before being stoned, allow 1/4 lb. of finely-pounded loaf sugar; brandy. _Mode_.--Let the fruit be gathered in dry weather; wipe and weigh it, and remove the stones as carefully as possible, without injuring the peaches much. Put them into a jar, sprinkle amongst them pounded loaf sugar in the above proportion, and pour brandy over the fruit. Cover the jar down closely, place it in a saucepan of boiling water over the fire, and bring the brandy to the simmering-point, but do not allow it to boil. Take the fruit out carefully, without breaking it; put it into small jars, pour over it the brandy, and, when cold, exclude the air by covering the jars with bladders, or tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg. Apricots may be done in the same manner, and, if properly prepared, will be found delicious. _Time_.--From 10 to 20 minutes to bring the brandy to the simmering-point. _Seasonable_ in August and September. BAKED PEARS. 1574. INGREDIENTS.--12 pears, the rind of 1 lemon, 6 cloves, 10 whole allspice; to every pint of water allow 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Pare and cut the pears into halves, and, should they be very large, into quarters; leave the stalks on, and carefully remove the cores. Place them in a clean baking-jar, with a closely-fitting lid; add to them the lemon-rind cut in strips, the juice of 1/2 lemon, the cloves, pounded allspice, and sufficient water just to cover the whole, with sugar in the above proportion. Cover the jar down closely, put it into a very cool oven, and bake the pears from 5 to 6 hours, but be very careful that the oven is not too hot. To improve the colour of the fruit, a few drops of prepared cochineal may be added; but this will not be found necessary if the pears are very gently baked. _Time_.--Large pears, 5 to 6 hours, in a very slow oven. _Average cost_, 1d. to 2d. each. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to January. PEAR.--The pear, like the apple, is indigenous to this country; but the wild pear is a very unsatisfactory fruit. The best varieties were brought from the East by the Romans, who cultivated them with care, and probably introduced some of their best sorts into this island, to which others were added by the inhabitants of the monasteries. The Dutch and Flemings, as well as the French, have excelled in the cultivation of the pear, and most of the late varieties introduced are from France and Flanders. The pear is a hardy tree, and a longer liver than the apple: it has been known to exist for centuries. There are now about 150 varieties of this fruit. Though perfectly wholesome when ripe, the pear is not so when green; but in this state it is fit for stewing. An agreeable beverage, called perry, is made from pears, and the varieties which are least fit for eating make the best perry. PRESERVED PEARS. 1575. INGREDIENTS.--Jargonelle pears; to every lb. of sugar allow 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Procure some Jargonelle pears, not too ripe; put them into a stewpan with sufficient water to cover them, and simmer them till rather tender, but do not allow them to break; then put them into cold water. Boil the sugar and water together for 5 minutes, skim well, put in the pears, and simmer them gently for 5 minutes. Repeat the simmering for 3 successive days, taking care not to let the fruit break. The last time of boiling, the syrup should be made rather richer, and the fruit boiled for 10 minutes. When the pears are done, drain them from the syrup, and dry them in the sun, or in a cool oven; or they may be kept in the syrup, and dried as they are wanted. _Time_.--1/2 hour to simmer the pears in water, 20 minutes in the syrup. _Average cost_, 1d. to 2d. each. _Seasonable_.--Most plentiful in September and October. STEWED PEARS. [Illustration: STEWED PEARS.] 1576. INGREDIENTS.--8 large pears, 5 oz. of loaf sugar, 6 cloves, 6 whole allspice, 1/2 pint of water, 1/4 pint of port wine, a few drops of prepared cochineal. _Mode_.--Pare the pears, halve them, remove the cores, and leave the stalks on; put them into a _lined_ saucepan with the above ingredients, and let them simmer very gently until tender, which will be in from 3 to 4 hours, according to the quality of the pears. They should be watched, and, when done, carefully lifted out on to a glass dish without breaking them. Boil up the syrup quickly for 2 or 3 minutes; allow it to cool a little, pour it over the pears, and let them get perfectly cold. To improve the colour of the fruit, a few drops of prepared cochineal may be added, which rather enhances the beauty of this dish. The fruit must not be boiled fast, but only simmered, and watched that it be not too much done. _Time_.--3 to 4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ from September to January. THE BON CHRETIEN PEAR.--The valuable variety of pear called _Bon Chrétien_, which comes to our tables in winter, either raw or cooked, received its name through the following incident:--Louis XI., king of France, had sent for Saint Francois de Paule from the lower part of Calabria, in the hopes of recovering his health through his intercession. The saint brought with him the seeds of this pear; and, as he was called at court Le Bon Chrétien, this fruit obtained the name of him to whom France owed its introduction. PINEAPPLE CHIPS. 1577. INGREDIENTS.--Pineapples; sugar to taste. _Mode_.--Pare and slice the fruit thinly, put it on dishes, and strew over it plenty of pounded sugar. Keep it in a hot closet, or very slow oven, 8 or 10 days, and turn the fruit every day until dry; then put the pieces of pine on tins, and place them in a quick oven for 10 minutes. Let them cool, and store them away in dry boxes, with paper between each layer. _Time_.--8 to 10 days. _Seasonable_.--Foreign pines, in July and August. PRESERVED PINEAPPLE. 1578. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit, weighed after being pared, allow 1 lb. of loaf sugar; 1/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--The pines for making this preserve should be perfectly sound but ripe. Cut them into rather thick slices, as the fruit shrinks very much in the boiling. Pare off the rind carefully, that none of the pine be wasted; and, in doing so, notch it in and out, as the edge cannot be smoothly cut without great waste. Dissolve a portion of the sugar in a preserving-pan with 1/4 pint of water; when this is melted, gradually add the remainder of the sugar, and boil it until it forms a clear syrup, skimming well. As soon as this is the case, put in the pieces of pine, and boil well for at least 1/2 hour, or until it looks nearly transparent. Put it into pots, cover down when cold, and store away in a dry place. _Time_.--1/2 hour to boil the fruit. _Average cost_, 10d. to 1s. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_.--Foreign pines, in July and August. THE PINEAPPLE IN HEATHENDOM.--Heathen nations invented protective divinities for their orchards (such as Pomona, Vertumnus, Priapus, &c.), and benevolent patrons for their fruits: thus, the olive-tree grew under the auspices of Minerva; the Muses cherished the palm-tree, Bacchus the fig and grape, _and the pine and its cone were consecrated to the great Cyble_. PRESERVED PINEAPPLE, for Present Use. 1579. INGREDIENTS.--Pineapple, sugar, water. _Mode_.--Cut the pine into slices 1/4 inch in thickness; peel them, and remove the hard part from the middle. Put the parings and hard pieces into a stewpan with sufficient water to cover them, and boil for 1/4 hour. Strain the liquor, and put in the slices of pine. Stew them for 10 minutes, add sufficient sugar to sweeten the whole nicely, and boil again for another 1/4 hour; skim well, and the preserve will be ready for use. It must be eaten soon, as it will keep but a very short time. _Time_.--1/4 hour to boil the parings in water; 10 minutes to boil the pine without sugar, 1/4 hour with sugar. _Average cost_.--Foreign pines, 1s. to 3s. each; English, from 2s. to 12s. per lb. _Seasonable_.--Foreign, in July and August; English, all the year. PLUM JAM. 1580. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of plums, weighed before being stoned, allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--In making plum jam, the quantity of sugar for each lb. of fruit must be regulated by the quality and size of the fruit, some plums requiring much more sugar than others. Divide the plums, take out the stones, and put them on to large dishes, with roughly-pounded sugar sprinkled over them in the above proportion, and let them remain for one day; then put them into a preserving-pan, stand them by the side of the fire to simmer gently for about 1/2 hour, and then boil them rapidly for another 15 minutes. The scum must be carefully removed as it rises, and the jam must be well stirred all the time, or it will burn at the bottom of the pan, and so spoil the colour and flavour of the preserve. Some of the stones may be cracked, and a few kernels added to the jam just before it is done: these impart a very delicious flavour to the plums. The above proportion of sugar would answer for Orleans plums; the Impératrice Magnum-bonum, and Winesour would not require quite so much. _Time_.--1/2 hour to simmer gently, 1/4 hour to boil rapidly. _Best plums for preserving_.--Violets, Mussels, Orleans, Impératrice Magnum-bonum, and Winesour. _Seasonable_ from the end of July to the beginning of October. PLUMS.--The Damson, or Damascene plum, takes its name from Damascus, where it grows in great quantities, and whence it was brought into Italy about 114 B.C. The Orleans plum is from France. The Greengage is called after the Gage family, who first brought it into England from the monastery of the Chartreuse, at Paris, where it still bears the name of Reine Claude. The Magnum-bonum is our largest plum, and greatly esteemed for preserves and culinary purposes. The best sorts of plums are agreeable at the dessert, and, when perfectly ripe, are wholesome; but some are too astringent. They lose much of their bad qualities by baking, and are extensively used, from their cheapness, when in full season, in tarts and preserves; but they are not a very wholesome fruit, and should be eaten in moderation. PRESERVED PLUMS. 1581. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar; for the thin syrup, 1/4 lb. of sugar to each pint of water. _Mode_.--Select large ripe plums; slightly prick them, to prevent them from bursting, and simmer them very gently in a syrup made with the above proportion of sugar and water. Put them carefully into a pan, let the syrup cool, pour it over the plums, and allow them to remain for two days. Having previously weighed the other sugar, dip the lumps quickly into water, and put them into a preserving-pan with no more water than hangs about them; and boil the sugar to a syrup, carefully skimming it. Drain the plums from the first syrup; put them into the fresh syrup, and simmer them very gently until they are clear; lift them out singly into pots, pour the syrup over, and when cold, cover down to exclude the air. This preserve will remain good some time, if kept in a dry place, and makes a very nice addition to a dessert. The magnum-bonum plums answer for this preserve better than any other kind of plum. Greengages are also very delicious done in this manner. _Time_.--1/4 hour to 20 minutes to simmer the plums in the first syrup; 20 minutes to 1/2 hour very gentle simmering in the second. _Seasonable_ from August to October. TO PRESERVE PLUMS DRY. 1582. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of sugar allow 1/4 pint of water. _Mode_.--Gather the plums when they are full-grown and just turning colour; prick them, put them into a saucepan of cold water, and set them on the fire until the water is on the point of boiling. Then take them out, drain them, and boil them gently in syrup made with the above proportion of sugar and water; and if the plums shrink, and will not take the sugar, prick them as they lie in the pan; give them another boil, skim, and set them by. The next day add some more sugar, boiled almost to candy, to the fruit and syrup; put all together into a wide-mouthed jar, and place them in a cool oven for 2 nights; then drain the plums from the syrup, sprinkle a little powdered sugar over, and dry them in a cool oven. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes to boil the plums in the syrup. _Seasonable_ from August to October. PLUMS.--The wild sloe is the parent of the plum, but the acclimated kinds come from the East. The cultivation of this fruit was probably attended to very early in England, as Gerrard informs us that, in 1597, he had in his garden, in Holborn, threescore sorts. The sloe is a shrub common in our hedgerows, and belongs to the natural order _Amygdaleae_; the fruit is about the size of a large pea, of a black colour, and covered with a bloom of a bright blue. It is one of the few indigenous to our island. The juice is extremely sharp and astringent, and was formerly employed as a medicine, where astringents were necessary. It now assists in the manufacture of a red wine made to imitate port, and also for adulteration. The leaves have been used to adulterate tea; the fruit, when ripe, makes a good preserve. STEWED FRENCH PLUMS. (_A Dessert Dish_.) 1583. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of French plums, 3/4 pint of syrup No. 1512, 1 glass of port wine, the rind and juice of 1 lemon. _Mode_.--Stew the plums gently in water for 1 hour; strain the water, and with it make the syrup. When it is clear, put in the plums with the port wine, lemon-juice, and rind, and simmer very gently for 1-1/2 hour. Arrange the plums on a glass dish, take out the lemon-rind, pour the syrup over the plums, and, when cold, they will be ready for table. A little allspice stewed with the fruit is by many persons considered an improvement. _Time_.--1 hour to stew the plums in water, 1-1/2 hour in the syrup. _Average cost_,--plums sufficiently good for stewing, 1s. per lb. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ in winter. PRESERVED PUMPKIN. 1584. INGREDIENTS.--To each lb. of pumpkin allow 1 lb. of roughly pounded loaf sugar, 1 gill of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Obtain a good sweet pumpkin; halve it, take out the seeds, and pare off the rind; cut it into neat slices, or into pieces about the size of a five-shilling piece. Weigh the pumpkin, put the slices in a pan or deep dish in layers, with the sugar sprinkled between them; pour the lemon-juice over the top, and let the whole remain for 2 or 3 days. Boil altogether, adding 1/4 pint of water to every 3 lbs. of sugar used until the pumpkin becomes tender; then turn the whole into a pan, where let it remain for a week; then drain off the syrup, boil it until it is quite thick; skim, and pour it, boiling, over the pumpkin. A little bruised ginger and lemon-rind, thinly pared, may be boiled in the syrup to flavour the pumpkin. _Time_.--From 1/2 to 3/4 hour to boil the pumpkin tender. _Average cost_, 5d. to 7d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_ in September and October; but better when made in the latter month, as the pumpkin is then quite ripe. _Note_.--Vegetable marrows are very good prepared in the same manner, but are not quite so rich. QUINCE JELLY. 1585. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of juice allow 1 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Pare and slice the quinces, and put them into a preserving-pan with sufficient water to float them. Boil them until tender, and the fruit is reduced to a pulp; strain off the clear juice, and to each pint allow the above proportion of loaf sugar. Boil the juice and sugar together for about 3/4 hour; remove all the scum as it rises, and, when the jelly appears firm when a little is poured on a plate, it is done. The residue left on the sieve will answer to make a common marmalade, for immediate use, by boiling it with 1/2 lb. of common sugar to every lb. of pulp. _Time_.--3 hours to boil the quinces in water; 3/4 hour to boil the jelly. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 10d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_ from August to October. QUINCE MARMALADE. 1586. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of quince pulp allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Slice the quinces into a preserving-pan, adding sufficient water for them to float; place them on the fire to stew, until reduced to a pulp, keeping them stirred occasionally from the bottom, to prevent their burning; then pass the pulp through a hair sieve, to keep back the skin and seeds. Weigh the pulp, and to each lb. add lump sugar in the above proportion, broken very small. Place the whole on the fire, and keep it well stirred from the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon, until reduced to a marmalade, which may be known by dropping a little on a cold plate, when, if it jellies, it is done. Put it into jars whilst hot; let it cool, and cover with pieces of oiled paper cut to the size of the mouths of the jars. The tops of them may be afterwards covered with pieces of bladder, or tissue-paper brushed over on both sides with the white of an egg. _Time_.--3 hours to boil the quinces without the sugar; 3/4 hour to boil the pulp with the sugar. _Average cost_, from 8d. to 9d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 pint of sliced quinces for a lb. pot. _Seasonable_ in August, September, and October. RAISIN CHEESE. 1587. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of raisins allow a lb. of loaf sugar; pounded cinnamon and cloves to taste. _Mode_.--Stone the raisins; put them into a stewpan with the sugar, cinnamon, and cloves, and let them boil for 1-1/2 hour, stirring all the time. Let the preparation cool a little, pour it into a glass dish, and garnish with strips of candied lemon-peel and citron. This will remain good some time, if kept in a dry place. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_.--1 lb. for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. RASPBERRY JAM. 1588. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of raspberries allow 1 lb. of sugar, 1/4 pint of red-currant juice. _Mode_.--Let the fruit for this preserve be gathered in fine weather, and used as soon after it is picked as possible. Take off the stalks, put the raspberries into a preserving-pan, break them well with a wooden spoon, and let them boil for 1/4 hour, keeping them well stirred. Then add the currant-juice and sugar, and boil again for 1/2 hour. Skim the jam well after the sugar is added, or the preserve will not be clear. The addition of the currant juice is a very great improvement to this preserve, as it gives it a piquant taste, which the flavour of the raspberries seems to require. _Time_.--1/4 hour to simmer the fruit without the sugar; 1/4 hour after it is added. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--Allow about 1 pint of fruit to fill a 1-lb. pot. _Seasonable_ in July and August. RASPBERRY JELLY. 1589. INGREDIENTS.--To each pint of juice allow 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Let the raspberries be freshly gathered, quite ripe, and picked from the stalks; put them into a large jar, after breaking the fruit a little with a wooden spoon, and place this jar, covered, in a saucepan of boiling water. When the juice is well drawn, which will be in from 3/4 to 1 hour, strain the fruit through a fine hair sieve or cloth; measure the juice, and to every pint allow the above proportion of loaf sugar. Put the juice and sugar into a preserving-pan, place it over the fire, and boil gently until the jelly thickens when a little is poured on a plate; carefully remove all the scum as it rises, pour the jelly into small pots, cover down, and keep in a dry place. This jelly answers for making raspberry cream, and for flavouring various sweet dishes, when, in winter, the fresh fruit is not obtainable. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour to draw the juice. _Average cost_, from 9d. to 1s. per lb. pot. _Sufficient._--From 3 pints to 2 quarts of fruit should yield 1 pint of juice. _Seasonable_.--This should be made in July or August. RHUBARB JAM. 1590. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of rhubarb allow 1 lb. of loaf sugar, the rind of 1/2 lemon. _Mode_.--Wipe the rhubarb perfectly dry, take off the string or peel, and weigh it; put it into a preserving-pan, with sugar in the above proportion; mince the lemon-rind very finely, add it to the other ingredients, and place the preserving-pan by the side of the fire; keep stirring to prevent the rhubarb from burning, and when the sugar is well dissolved, put the pan more over the fire, and let the jam boil until it is done, taking care to keep it well skimmed and stirred with a wooden or silver spoon. Pour it into pots, and cover down with oiled and egged papers. _Time_.--If the rhubarb is young and tender, 3/4 hour, reckoning from the time it simmers equally; old rhubarb, 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 5d. to 7d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient_.--About 1 pint of sliced rhubarb to fill a lb. pot. _Seasonable_ from February to April. RHUBARB AND ORANGE JAM, to resemble Scotch Marmalade. 1591. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart of finely-cut rhubarb, 6 oranges, 1-1/2 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Peel the oranges; remove as much of the white pith as possible, divide them, and take out the pips; slice the pulp into a preserving-pan, add the rind of half the oranges cut into thin strips, and the loaf sugar, which should be broken small. Peel the rhubarb, cut it into thin pieces, put it to the oranges, and stir altogether over a gentle fire until the jam is done. Remove all the scum as it rises, put the preserve into pots, and, when cold, cover down. Should the rhubarb be very old, stew it alone for 1/4 hour before the other ingredients are added. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, from 6d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Seasonable_ from February to April. RASPBERRY AND CURRANT, or any Fresh Fruit Salad. (_A Dessert Dish_.) 1592. _Mode_.--Fruit salads are made by stripping the fruit from the stalks, piling it on a dish, and sprinkling over it finely-pounded sugar. They may be made of strawberries, raspberries, currants, or any of these fruits mixed; peaches also make a very good salad. After the sugar is sprinkled over, about 6 large tablespoonfuls of wine or brandy, or 3 tablespoonfuls of liqueur, should be poured in the middle of the fruit; and, when the flavour is liked, a little pounded cinnamon may be added. In helping the fruit, it should be lightly stirred, that the wine and sugar may be equally distributed. _Sufficient._--1-1/2 pint of fruit, with 3 oz. of pounded sugar, for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ in summer. STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM. 1593. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of picked strawberries allow 1/3 pint of cream, 2 oz. of finely-pounded sugar. _Mode_.--Pick the stalks from the fruit, place it on a glass dish, sprinkle over it pounded sugar, and slightly stir the strawberries, that they may all be equally sweetened; pour the cream over the top, and serve. Devonshire cream, when it can be obtained, is exceedingly delicious for this dish; and, if very thick indeed, may be diluted with a little thin cream or milk. _Average cost_ for this quantity, with cream at 1s. per pint, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 2 persons. _Seasonable_ in June and July. STRAWBERRY JAM. 1594. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit allow 1/2 pint of red-currant juice, 1-1/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Strip the currants from the stalks, put them into a jar; place this jar in a saucepan of boiling water, and simmer until the juice is well drawn from the fruit; strain the currants, measure the juice, put it into a preserving-pan, and add the sugar. Select well-ripened but sound strawberries; pick them from the stalks, and when the sugar is dissolved in the currant juice, put in the fruit. Simmer the whole over a moderate fire, from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, carefully removing the scum as it rises. Stir the jam only enough to prevent it from burning at the bottom of the pan, as the fruit should be preserved as whole as possible. Put the jam into jars, and when cold, cover down. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour, reckoning from the time the jam simmers all over. _Average cost_, from 7d. to 8d. per lb. pot. _Sufficient._--12 pints of strawberries will make 12 lb. pots of jam. _Seasonable_ in June and July. PRESERVED STRAWBERRIES IN WINE. 1595. INGREDIENTS.--To every quart bottle allow 1/4 lb. of finely-pounded loaf sugar; sherry or Madeira. _Mode_.--Let the fruit be gathered in fine weather, and used as soon as picked. Have ready some perfectly dry glass bottles, and some nice soft corks or bungs. Pick the stalks from the strawberries, drop them into the bottles, sprinkling amongst them pounded sugar in the above proportion, and when the fruit reaches to the neck of the bottle, fill up with sherry or Madeira. Cork the bottles down with new corks, and dip them into melted resin. _Seasonable_.--Make this in June or July. TO PRESERVE STRAWBERRIES WHOLE. 1596. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of fruit allow 1-1/2 lb. of good loaf sugar, 1 pint of red-currant juice. _Mode_.--Choose the strawberries not too ripe, of a fine large sort and of a good colour. Pick off the stalks, lay the strawberries in a dish, and sprinkle over them half the quantity of sugar, which must be finely pounded. Shake the dish gently, that the sugar may be equally distributed and touch the under-side of the fruit, and let it remain for 1 day. Then have ready the currant-juice, drawn as for red-currant jelly No. 1533; boil it with the remainder of the sugar until it forms a thin syrup, and in this simmer the strawberries and sugar, until the whole is sufficiently jellied. Great care must be taken not to stir the fruit roughly, as it should be preserved as whole as possible. Strawberries prepared in this manner are very good served in glasses and mixed with thin cream. _Time_.--1/4 hour to 20 minutes to simmer the strawberries in the syrup. _Seasonable_ in June and July. TO MAKE EVERTON TOFFEE. 1597. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of powdered loaf sugar, 1 teacupful of water, 1/4 lb. of butter, 6 drops of essence of lemon. _Mode_.--Put the water and sugar into a brass pan, and beat the butter to a cream. When the sugar is dissolved, add the butter, and keep stirring the mixture over the fire until it sets, when a little is poured on to a buttered dish; and just before the toffee is done, add the essence of lemon. Butter a dish or tin, pour on it the mixture, and when cool, it will easily separate from the dish. Butter-Scotch, an excellent thing for coughs, is made with brown, instead of white sugar, omitting the water, and flavoured with 1/2 oz. of powdered ginger. It is made in the same manner as toffee. _Time_.--18 to 35 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ to make a lb. of toffee. DESSERT DISHES. [Illustration: DISH OF NUTS.] [Illustration: BOX OF FRENCH PLUMS.] [Illustration: DISH OF MIXED FRUIT.] 1598. The tazza, or dish with stem, the same as that shown in our illustrations, is now the favourite shape for dessert-dishes. The fruit can be arranged and shown to better advantage on these tall high dishes than on the short flat ones. All the dishes are now usually placed down the centre of the table, dried and fresh fruit alternately, the former being arranged on small round or oval glass plates, and the latter on the dishes with stems. The fruit should always be gathered on the same day that it is required for table, and should be tastefully arranged on the dishes, with leaves between and round it. By purchasing fruits that are in season, a dessert can be supplied at a very moderate cost. These, with a few fancy biscuits, crystallized fruit, bon-bons, &c., are sufficient for an ordinary dessert. When fresh fruit cannot be obtained, dried and foreign fruits, compotes, baked pears, stewed Normandy pippins, &c. &c., must supply its place, with the addition of preserves, bon-bons, cakes, biscuits, &c. At fashionable tables, forced fruit is served growing in pots, these pots being hidden in more ornamental ones, and arranged with the other dishes.--(See coloured plate W1.) A few vases of fresh flowers, tastefully arranged, add very much to the appearance of the dessert; and, when these are not obtainable, a few paper ones, mixed with green leaves, answer very well as a substitute. In decorating a table, whether for luncheon, dessert, or supper, a vase or two of flowers should never be forgotten, as they add so much to the elegance of the _tout ensemble_. In summer and autumn, ladies residing in the country can always manage to have a few freshly-gathered flowers on their tables, and should never be without this inexpensive luxury. On the continent, vases or epergnes filled with flowers are invariably placed down the centre of the dinner-table at regular distances. Ices for dessert are usually moulded: when this is not the case, they are handed round in glasses with wafers to accompany them. Preserved ginger is frequently handed round after ices, to prepare the palate for the delicious dessert wines. A basin or glass of finely-pounded lump sugar must never be omitted at a dessert, as also a glass jug of fresh cold water (iced, if possible), and two goblets by its side. Grape-scissors, a melon-knife and fork, and nutcrackers, should always be put on table, if there are dishes of fruit requiring them. Zests are sometimes served at the close of the dessert; such as anchovy toasts or biscuits. The French often serve plain or grated cheese with a dessert of fresh or dried fruit. At some tables, finger-glasses are placed at the right of each person, nearly half filled with cold spring water, and in winter with tepid water. These precede the dessert. At other tables, a glass or vase is simply handed round, filled with perfumed water, into which each guest dips the corner of his napkin, and, when needful, refreshes his lips and the tips of his fingers. [Illustration: BOX OF CHOCOLATE.] [Illustration: DISH OF APPLES.] [Illustration: ALMONDS AND RAISINS.] [Illustration: DISH OF STRAWBERRIES.] After the dishes are placed, and every one is provided with plates, glasses, spoons, &c., the wine should be put at each end of the table, cooled or otherwise, according to the season. If the party be small, the wine may be placed only at the top of the table, near the host. DISH OF NUTS. 1599. These are merely arranged piled high in the centre of the dish, as shown in the engraving, with or without leaves round the edge. Filberts should always be served with the outer skin or husk on them; and walnuts should be well wiped with a damp cloth, and then--with a dry one, to remove the unpleasant sticky feeling the shells frequently have. _Seasonable_.--Filberts from September to March, good; may be had after that time, but are generally shrivelled and dry. Walnuts from September to January. HAZEL NUT AND FILBERT.--The common Hazel is the wild, and the Filbert the cultivated state of the same tree. The hazel is found wild, not only in forests and hedges, in dingles and ravines, but occurs in extensive tracts in the more northern and mountainous parts of the country. It was formerly one of the most abundant of those trees which are indigenous in this island. It is seldom cultivated as a fruit-tree, though perhaps its nuts are superior in flavour to the others. The Spanish nuts imported are a superior kind, but they are somewhat oily and rather indigestible. Filberts, both the red and the white, and the cob-nut, are supposed to be merely varieties of the common hazel, which have been produced, partly by the superiority of soil and climate, and partly by culture. They were originally brought out of Greece to Italy, whence they have found their way to Holland, and from that country to England. It is supposed that, within a few miles of Maidstone, in Kent, there are more filberts grown than in all England besides; and it is from that place that the London market is supplied. The filbert is longer than the common nut, though of the same thickness, and has a larger kernel. The cob-nut is a still larger variety, and is roundish. Filberts are more esteemed at the dessert than common nuts, and are generally eaten with salt. They are very free from oil, and disagree with few persons. WALNUTS.--The Walnut is a native of Persia, the Caucasus, and China, but was introduced to this kingdom from France. The ripe kernel is brought to the dessert on account of its agreeable flavour; and the fruit is also much used in the green state, but before the stone hardens, as a pickle. In Spain, grated walnuts are employed in tarts and other dishes. The Walnut abounds in oil which is expressed and which, being of a highly drying nature, and very limpid, is much employed for delicate painting. This, on the continent, is sometimes used as a substitute for olive-oil in cooking, but is very apt to turn rancid. It is also manufactured into a kind of soap. The mare, or refuse matter after the oil is extracted, proves very nutritious for poultry or other domestic animals. In Switzerland, this is eaten by poor people under the name of _pain amer._ BOX OF FRENCH PLUMS. 1600. If the box which contains them is exceedingly ornamental, it may be placed on the table; if small, on a glass dish; if large, without one, French plums may also be arranged on a glass plate, and garnished with bright-coloured sweetmeats, which make a very good effect. All fancy boxes of preserved and crystallized fruit may be put on the table or not, at pleasure. These little matters of detail must, of course, be left to individual taste. _Seasonable_.--May be purchased all the year; but are in greater perfection in the winter, and are more suitable for that season, as fresh fruit cannot be obtained. DISH OF MIXED FRUIT. 1601. For a centre dish, a mixture of various fresh fruits has a remarkably good effect, particularly if a pine be added to the list. A high raised appearance should be given to the fruit, which is done in the following manner. Place a tumbler in the centre of the dish, and, in this tumbler, the pine, crown uppermost; round the tumbler put a thick layer of moss, and, over this, apples, pears, plums, peaches, and such fruit as is simultaneously in season. By putting a layer of moss underneath, so much fruit is not required, besides giving a better shape to the dish. Grapes should be placed on the top of the fruit, a portion of some of the bunches hanging over the sides of the dish in a négligé kind of manner, which takes off the formal look of the dish. In arranging the plums, apples, &c., let the colours contrast well. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for a dessert in September or October. GRAPES.--France produces about a thousand varieties of the grape, which is cultivated more extensively in that country than in any other. Hygienists agree in pronouncing grapes as among the best of fruits. The grape possesses several rare qualities: it is nourishing and fattening, and its prolonged use has often overcome the most obstinate cases of constipation. The skins and pips of grapes should not be eaten. BOX OF CHOCOLATE. 1602. This is served in an ornamental box, placed on a glass plate or dish. _Seasonable_.--May be purchased at any time. DISH OF APPLES. 1603. The apples should be nicely wiped with a dry cloth, and arranged on a dish, piled high in the centre, with evergreen leaves between each layer. The inferior apples should form the bottom layer, with the bright-coloured large ones at the top. The leaves of the laurel, bay, holly, or any shrub green in winter, are suitable for garnishing dessert dishes. Oranges may be arranged in the same manner; they should also be wiped with a dry cloth before being sent to table. DISH OF MIXED SUMMER FRUIT. 1604. This dish consists of cherries, raspberries, currants, and strawberries, piled in different layers, with plenty of leaves between each layer; so that each fruit is well separated. The fruit should be arranged with a due regard to colour, so that they contrast nicely one with the other. Our engraving shows a layer of white cherries at the bottom, then one of red raspberries; over that a layer of white currants, and at the top some fine scarlet strawberries. _Seasonable_ in June, July, and August. ALMONDS AND RAISINS. 1605. These are usually served on glass dishes, the fruit piled high in the centre, and the almonds blanched, and strewn over. To blanch the almonds, put them into a small mug or teacup, pour over them boiling water, let them remain for 2 or 3 minutes, and the skins may then be easily removed. Figs, dates, French plums, &c., are all served on small glass plates or oval dishes, but without the almonds. _Seasonable_ at any time, but more suitable in winter, when fresh fruit is not obtainable. DATES.--Dates are imported into Britain, in a dried state, from Barbary and Egypt, and, when in good condition, they are much esteemed. An inferior kind has lately become common, which are dried hard, and have little or no flavour. They should be chosen large, softish, not much wrinkled, of a reddish-yellow colour on the outside, with a whitish membrane between the fruit and the stone. DISH OF STRAWBERRIES. 1606. Fine strawberries, arranged in the manner shown in the engraving, look exceedingly well. The inferior ones should be placed at the bottom of the dish, and the others put in rows pyramidically, with the stalks downwards; so that when the whole is completed, nothing but the red part of the fruit is visible. The fruit should be gathered with rather long stalks, as there is then something to support it, and it can be placed more upright in each layer. A few of the finest should be reserved to crown the top. TO HAVE WALNUTS FRESH THROUGHOUT THE SEASON. 1607. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of water allow 1 teaspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Place the walnuts in the salt and water for 24 hours at least; then take them out, and rub them dry. Old nuts may be freshened in this manner; or walnuts, when first picked, may be put into an earthen pan with salt sprinkled amongst them, and with damped hay placed on the top of them, and then covered down with a lid. They must be well wiped before they are put on table. _Seasonable_.--Should be stored away in September or October. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXII. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON MILK, BUTTER, CHEESE, AND EGGS. MILK. 1608. Milk is obtained only from the class of animals called Mammalia, and is intended by Nature for the nourishment of their young. The milk of each animal is distinguished by some peculiarities; but as that of the cow is by far the most useful to us in this part of the world, our observations will be confined to that variety. 1609. Milk, when drawn from the cow, is of a yellowish-white colour, and is the most yellow at the beginning of the period of lactation. Its taste is agreeable, and rather saccharine. The viscidity and specific gravity of milk are somewhat greater than that of water; but these properties vary somewhat in the milk procured from different individuals. On an average, the specific gravity of milk is 1.035, water being 1. The small cows of the Alderney breed afford the richest milk. 1610. Milk which is carried to a considerable distance, so as to be much agitated, and cooled before it is put into pans to settle for cream, never throws up so much, nor such rich cream, as if the same milk had been put into pans directly after it was milked. 1611. Milk, considered as an aliment, is of such importance in domestic economy as to render all the improvements in its production extremely valuable. To enlarge upon the antiquity of its use is unnecessary; it has always been a favourite food in Britain. "Lacte et carno vivunt," says Caesar, in his Commentaries; the English of which is, "the inhabitants subsist upon flesh and milk." The breed of the cow has received great improvement in modern times, as regards the quantity and quality of the milk which she affords; the form of milch-cows, their mode of nourishment, and progress, are also manifest in the management of the dairy. 1612. Although milk in its natural state be a fluid, yet, considered as an aliment, it is both solid and fluid: for no sooner does it enter the stomach, than it is coagulated by the gastric juice, and separated into curd and whey, the first of these being extremely nutritive. 1613. Milk of the _human subject_ is much thinner than cow's milk; _Ass's milk_ comes the nearest to human milk of any other; _Goat's milk_ is something thicker and richer than cow's milk; _Ewe's milk_ has the appearance of cow's milk, and affords a larger quantity of cream; _Mare's milk_ contains more sugar than that of the ewe; _Camel's milk_ is used only in Africa; _Buffalo's milk_ is employed in India. 1614. From no other substance, solid or fluid, can so great a number of distinct kinds of aliment be prepared as from milk; some forming food, others drink; some of them delicious, and deserving the name of luxuries; all of them wholesome, and some medicinal: indeed, the variety of aliments that seems capable of being produced from milk, appears to be quite endless. In every age this must have been a subject for experiment, and every nation has added to the number by the invention of some peculiarity of its own. BUTTER. 1615. BECKMAN, in his "History of Inventions," states that butter was not used either by the Greeks or Romans in cooking, nor was it brought upon their tables at certain meals, as is the custom at present. In England it has been made from time immemorial, though the art of making cheese is said not to have been known to the ancient Britons, and to have been learned from their conquerors. 1616. The taste of butter is peculiar, and very unlike any other fatty substance. It is extremely agreeable when of the best quality; but its flavour depends much upon the food given to the cows: to be good, it should not adhere to the knife. 1617. Butter, with regard to its dietetic properties, may be regarded nearly in the light of vegetable oils and animal fats; but it becomes sooner rancid than most other fat oils. When fresh, it cannot but be considered as very wholesome; but it should be quite free from rancidity. If slightly salted when it is fresh, its wholesomeness is probably not at all impaired; but should it begin to turn rancid, salting will not correct its unwholesomeness. When salt butter is put into casks, the upper part next the air is very apt to become rancid, and this rancidity is also liable to affect the whole cask. 1618. _Epping butter_ is the kind most esteemed in London. _Fresh butter_ comes to London from Buckinghamshire, Suffolk, Oxfordshire, Yorkshire, Devonshire, &c. _Cambridge butter_ is esteemed next to fresh; _Devonshire butter_ is nearly similar in quality to the latter; _Irish butter_ sold in London is all salted, but is generally good. The number of firkins exported annually from Ireland amounts to 420,000, equal to a million of money. _Dutch butter_ is in good repute all over Europe, America, and even India; and no country in the world is so successful in the manufacture of this article, Holland supplying more butter to the rest of the world than any country whatever. 1619. There are two methods pursued in the manufacture of butter. In one, the cream is separated from the milk, and in that state it is converted into butter by churning, as is the practice about Epping; in the other, milk is subjected to the same process, which is the method usually followed in Cheshire. The first method is generally said to give the richest butter, and the latter the largest quantity, though some are of opinion that there is little difference either in quality or quantity. CHEESE. 1620. CHEESE is the curd formed from milk by artificial coagulation, pressed and dried for use. Curd, called also casein and caseous matter, or the basis of cheese, exists in the milk, and not in the cream, and requires only to be separated by coagulation. The coagulation, however, supposes some alteration of the curd. By means of the substance employed to coagulate it, it is rendered insoluble in water. When the curd is freed from the whey, kneaded and pressed to expel it entirely, it becomes cheese. This assumes a degree of transparency, and possesses many of the properties of coagulated albumen. If it be well dried, it does not change by exposure to the air; but if it contain moisture, it soon putrefies. It therefore requires some salt to preserve it, and this acts likewise as a kind of seasoning. All our cheese is coloured more or less, except that made from skim milk. The colouring substances employed are arnatto, turmeric, or marigold, all perfectly harmless unless they are adulterated; and it is said that arnatto sometimes contains red lead. 1621. Cheese varies in quality and richness according to the materials of which it is composed. It is made--1. Of entire milk, as in Cheshire; 2. of milk and cream, as at Stilton; 3. of new milk mixed with skimmed milk, as in Gloucestershire; 4. of skimmed milk only, as in Suffolk, Holland, and Italy. 1622. The principal varieties of cheese used in England are the following:--_Cheshire cheese_, famed all over Europe for its rich quality and fine piquant flavour. It is made of entire new milk, the cream not being taken off. _Gloucester cheese_ is much milder in its taste than the Cheshire. There are two kinds of Gloucester cheese,--single and double. _Single Gloucester_ is made of skimmed milk, or of the milk deprived of half the cream; _Double Gloucester_ is a cheese that pleases almost every palate: it is made of the whole milk and cream. _Stilton cheese_ is made by adding the cream of one day to the entire milk of the next: it was first made at Stilton, in Leicestershire. _Sage cheese_ is so called from the practice of colouring some curd with bruised sage, marigold-leaves, and parsley, and mixing this with some uncoloured curd. With the Romans, and during the middle ages, this practice was extensively adopted. _Cheddar cheese_ much resembles Parmesan. It has a very agreeable taste and flavour, and has a spongy appearance. _Brickbat cheese_ has nothing remarkable except its form. It is made by turning with rennet a mixture of cream and new milk. The curd is put into a wooden vessel the shape of a brick, and is then pressed and dried in the usual way. _Dunlop cheese_ has a peculiarly mild and rich taste: the best is made entirely from new milk. _New cheese_ (as it is called in London) is made chiefly in Lincolnshire, and is either made of all cream, or, like Stilton. by adding the cream of one day's milking to the milk that comes immediately from the cow: they are extremely thin, and are compressed gently two or three times, turned for a few days, and then eaten new with radishes, salad, &c. _Skimmed Milk cheese_ is made for sea voyages principally. _Parmesan cheese_ is made in Parma and Piacenza. It is the most celebrated of all cheese: it is made entirely of skimmed cow's milk. The high flavour which it has, is supposed to be owing to the rich herbage of the meadows of the Po, where the cows are pastured. The best Parmesan is kept for three or four years, and none is carried to market till it is at least six months old. _Dutch cheese_ derives its peculiar pungent taste from the practice adopted in Holland of coagulating the milk with muriatic acid instead of rennet. _Swiss cheeses_ in their several varieties are all remarkable for their fine flavour. That from _Gruyère_, a bailiwick in the canton of Fribourg, is best known in England. It is flavoured by the dried herb of _Melilotos officinalis_ in powder. Cheese from milk and potatoes is manufactured in Thuringia and Saxony. _Cream cheese_, although so called, is not properly cheese, but is nothing more than cream dried sufficiently to be cut with a knife. EGGS. 1623. There is only one opinion as to the nutritive properties of eggs, although the qualities of those belonging to different birds vary somewhat. Those of the common hen are most esteemed as delicate food, particularly when "new-laid." The quality of eggs depends much upon the food given to the hen. Eggs in general are considered most easily digestible when little subjected to the art of cookery. The lightest way of dressing them is by poaching, which is effected by putting them for a minute or two into brisk boiling water: this coagulates the external white, without doing the inner part too much. Eggs are much better when new-laid than a day or two afterwards. The usual time allotted for boiling eggs in the shell is 3 to 3-3/4 minutes: less time than that in boiling water will not be sufficient to solidify the white, and more will make the yolk hard and less digestible: it is very difficult to _guess_ accurately as to the time. Great care should be employed in putting them into the water, to prevent cracking the shell, which inevitably causes a portion of the white to exude, and lets water into the egg. Eggs are often beaten up raw in nutritive beverages. 1624. Eggs are employed in a very great many articles of cookery, entrées, and entremets, and they form an essential ingredient in pastry, creams, flip, &c. It is particularly necessary that they should be quite fresh, as nothing is worse than stale eggs. Cobbett justly says, stale, or even preserved eggs, are things to be run from, not after. 1625. The Metropolis is supplied with eggs from all parts of the kingdom, and they are likewise largely imported from various places on the continent; as France, Holland, Belgium, Guernsey, and Jersey. It appears from official statements mentioned in McCulloch's "Commercial Dictionary," that the number imported from France alone amounts to about 60,000,000 a year; and supposing them on an average to cost fourpence a dozen, it follows that we pay our continental neighbours above £83,000 a year for eggs. 1626. The eggs of different birds vary much in size and colour. Those of the ostrich are the largest: one laid in the menagerie in Paris weighed 2 lbs. 14 oz., held a pint, and was six inches deep: this is about the usual size of those brought from Africa. Travellers describe _ostrich eggs_ as of an agreeable taste: they keep longer than hen's eggs. Drinking-cups are often made of the shell, which is very strong. The eggs of the _turkey_ are almost as mild as those of the hen; the egg of the _goose_ is large, but well-tasted. _Duck's eggs_ have a rich flavour; the albumen is slightly transparent, or bluish, when set or coagulated by boiling, which requires less time than hen's eggs. _Guinea-fowl eggs_ are smaller and more delicate than those of the hen. Eggs of _wild fowl_ are generally coloured, often spotted; and the taste generally partakes somewhat of the flavour of the bird they belong to. Those of land birds that are eaten, as the _plover, lapwing, ruff_, &c., are in general much esteemed; but those of _sea-fowl_ have, more or less, a strong fishy taste. The eggs of the _turtle_ are very numerous: they consist of yolk only, without shell, and are delicious. RECIPES. CHAPTER XXXIII. SEPARATION OF MILK AND CREAM. 1627. If it be desired that the milk should be freed entirely from cream, it should be poured into a very shallow broad pan or dish, not more than 1-1/2 inch deep, as cream cannot rise through a great depth of milk. In cold and wet weather, milk is not so rich as it is in summer and warm weather, and the morning's milk is always richer than the evening's. The last-drawn milk of each milking, at all times and seasons, is richer than the first-drawn, and on that account should be set apart for cream. Milk should be shaken as little as possible when carried from the cow to the dairy, and should be poured into the pans very gently. Persons not keeping cows, may always have a little cream, provided the milk they purchase be pure and unadulterated. As soon as it comes in, it should be poured into very shallow open pie-dishes, and set by in a very cool place, and in 7 or 8 hours a nice cream should have risen to the surface. MILK is one of the most complete of all articles of food: that is to say, it contains a very large number of the elements which enter into the composition of the human body. It "disagrees" with fat, heavy, languid people, of slow circulation; and, at first, with many people of sedentary habits, and stomachs weakened by stimulants of different kinds. But, if exercise can be taken and a little patience shown, while the system accommodates itself to a new regimen, this bland and soothing article of diet is excellent for the majority of thin, nervous people; especially for those who have suffered much from emotional disturbances, or have relaxed their stomachs by too much tea or coffee, taken too hot. Milk is, in fact, a nutrient and a sedative at once. Stomachs, however, have their idiosyncrasies, and it sometimes proves an unwelcome and ill-digested article of food. As milk, when good, contains a good deal of respiratory material (fat),--material which _must_ either be burnt off, or derange the liver, and be rejected in other ways, it may disagree because the lungs are not sufficiently used in the open air. But it is very probable that there are really "constitutions" which cannot take to it; and _they_ should not be forced. TO KEEP MILK AND CREAM IN HOT WEATHER. 1628. When the weather is very warm, and it is very difficult to prevent milk from turning sour and spoiling the cream, it should be scalded, and it will then remain good for a few hours. It must on no account be allowed to boil, or there will be a skin instead of a cream upon the milk; and the slower the process, the safer will it be. A very good plan to scald milk, is to put the pan that contains it into a saucepan or wide kettle of boiling water. When the surface looks thick, the milk is sufficiently scalded, and it should then be put away in a cool place in the same vessel that it was scalded in. Cream may be kept for 24 hours, if scalded without sugar; and by the addition of the latter ingredient, it will remain good double the time, if kept in a cool place. All pans, jugs, and vessels intended for milk, should be kept beautifully clean, and well scalded before the milk is put in, as any negligence in this respect may cause large quantities of it to be spoiled; and milk should never be kept in vessels of zinc or copper. Milk may be preserved good in hot weather, for a few hours, by placing the jug which contains it in ice, or very cold water; or a pinch of bicarbonate of soda may be introduced into the liquid. MILK, when of good quality, is of an opaque white colour: the cream always comes to the top; the well-known milky odour is strong; it will boil without altering its appearance, in these respects; the little bladders which arise on the surface will renew themselves if broken by the spoon. To boil milk is, in fact, the simplest way of testing its quality. The commonest adulterations of milk are not of a hurtful character. It is a good deal thinned with water, and sometimes thickened with a little starch, or colored with yolk of egg, or even saffron; but these processes have nothing murderous in them. CURDS AND WHEY. 1629. INGREDIENTS.--A very small piece of rennet, 1/2 gallon of milk. _Mode_.--Procure from the butcher's a small piece of rennet, which is the stomach of the calf, taken as soon as it is killed, scoured, and well rubbed with salt, and stretched on sticks to dry. Pour some boiling water on the rennet, and let it remain for 6 hours; then use the liquor to turn the milk. The milk should be warm and fresh from the cow: if allowed to cool, it must be heated till it is of a degree quite equal to new milk; but do not let it be too hot. About a tablespoonful or rather more, would be sufficient to turn the above proportion of milk into curds and whey; and whilst the milk is turning, let it be kept in rather a warm place. _Time_.--From 2 to 3 hours to turn the milk. _Seasonable_ at any time. DEVONSHIRE CREAM. 1630. The milk should stand 24 hours in the winter, half that time when the weather is very warm. The milkpan is then set on a stove, and should there remain until the milk is quite hot; but it must not boil, or there will be a thick skin on the surface. When it is sufficiently done, the undulations on the surface look thick, and small rings appear. The time required for scalding cream depends on the size of the pan and the heat of the fire; but the slower it is done, the better. The pan should be placed in the dairy when the cream is sufficiently scalded, and skimmed the following day. This cream is so much esteemed that it is sent to the London markets in small square tins, and is exceedingly delicious eaten with fresh fruit. In Devonshire, butter is made from this cream, and is usually very firm. DEVONSHIRE JUNKET. 1631. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of new milk allow 2 dessertspoonfuls of brandy, 1 dessertspoonful of sugar, and 1-1/2 dessertspoonful of prepared rennet; thick cream, pounded cinnamon, or grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Make the milk blood-warm; put it into a deep dish with the brandy, sugar, and rennet; stir it altogether, and cover it over until it is set. Then spread some thick or clotted cream over the top, grate some nutmeg, and strew some sugar over, and the dish will be ready to serve. _Time_.--About 2 hours to set the milk. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO KEEP AND CHOOSE FRESH BUTTER. 1632. Fresh butter should be kept in a dark, cool place, and in as large a mass as possible. Mould as much only as is required, as the more surface is exposed, the more liability there will be to spoil; and the outside very soon becomes rancid. Fresh butter should be kept covered with white paper. For small larders, butter-coolers of red brick are now very much used for keeping fresh butter in warm weather. These coolers are made with a large bell-shaped cover, into the top of which a little cold water should be poured, and in summer time very frequently changed; and the butter must be kept covered. These coolers keep butter remarkably firm in hot weather, and are extremely convenient for those whose larder accommodation is limited. [Illustration: BUTTER-DISH.] In choosing fresh butter, remember it should smell deliciously, and be of an equal colour all through: if it smells sour, it has not been sufficiently washed from the buttermilk; and if veiny and open, it has probably been worked with a staler or an inferior sort. TO PRESERVE AND TO CHOOSE SALT BUTTER. 1633. In large families, where salt butter is purchased a tub at a time, the first thing to be done is to turn the whole of the butter out, and, with a clean knife, to scrape the outside; the tub should then be wiped with a clean cloth, and sprinkled all round with salt, the butter replaced, and the lid kept on to exclude the air. It is necessary to take these precautions, as sometimes a want of proper cleanliness in the dairymaid causes the outside of the butter to become rancid, and if the scraping be neglected, the whole mass would soon become spoiled. To choose salt butter, plunge a knife into it, and if, when drawn out, the blade smells rancid or unpleasant, the butter is bad. The layers in tubs will vary greatly, the butter being made at different times; so, to try if the whole tub be good, the cask should be unhooped, and the butter tried between the staves. It is not necessary to state that butter is extracted from cream, or from unskimmed milk, by the churn. Of course it partakes of the qualities of the milk, and winter butter is said not to be so good as spring butter. A word of caution is necessary about _rancid_ butter. Nobody eats it on bread, but it is sometimes used in cooking, in forms in which the acidity can be more or less disguised. So much the worse; it is almost poisonous, disguise it as you may. Never, under any exigency whatever, be tempted into allowing butter with even a _soupçon_ of "turning" to enter into the composition of any dish that appears on your table. And, in general, the more you can do without the employment of butter that has been subjected to the influence of heat, the better. The woman of modern times is not a "leech;" but she might often keep the "leech" from the door, if she would give herself the trouble to invent _innocent_ sauces. BUTTER-MOULDS, for Moulding Fresh Butter. [Illustration: DISH OF ROLLED BUTTER.] 1634. Butter-moulds, or wooden stamps for moulding fresh butter, are much used, and are made in a variety of forms and shapes. In using them, let them be kept scrupulously clean, and before the butter is pressed in, the interior should be well wetted with cold water; the butter must then be pressed in, the mould opened, and the perfect shape taken out. The butter may be then dished, and garnished with a wreath of parsley, if for a cheese course; if for breakfast, put it into an ornamental butter-dish, with a little water at the bottom, should the weather be very warm. CURLED BUTTER. 1635. Tie a strong cloth by two of the corners to an iron hook in the wall; make a knot with the other two ends, so that a stick might pass through. Put the butter into the cloth; twist it tightly over a dish, into which the butter will fall through the knot, so forming small and pretty little strings. The butter may then be garnished with parsley, if to serve with a cheese course; or it may be sent to table plain for breakfast, in an ornamental dish. Squirted butter for garnishing hams, salads, eggs, &c., is made by forming a piece of stiff paper in the shape of a cornet, and squeezing the butter in fine strings from the hole at the bottom. Scooped butter is made by dipping a teaspoon or scooper in warm water, and then scooping the butter quickly and thin. In warm weather, it would not be necessary to heat the spoon. BUTTER may be kept fresh for ten or twelve days by a very simple process. Knead it well in cold water till the buttermilk is extracted; then put it in a glazed jar, which invert in another, putting into the latter a sufficient quantity of water to exclude the air. Renew the water every day. FAIRY BUTTER. 1636. INGREDIENTS.--The yolks of 2 hard-boiled eggs, 1 tablespoonful of orange-flower water, 2 tablespoonfuls of pounded sugar, 1/4 lb. of good fresh butter. _Mode_.--Beat the yolks of the eggs smoothly in a mortar, with the orange-flower water and the sugar, until the whole is reduced to a fine paste; add the butter, and force all through an old but clean cloth by wringing the cloth and squeezing the butter very hard. The butter will then drop on the plate in large and small pieces, according to the holes in the cloth. Plain butter may be done in the same manner, and is very quickly prepared, besides having a very good effect. BUTTER.--White-coloured butter is said not to be so good as the yellow; but the yellow colour is often artificially produced, by the introduction of colouring matter into the churn. ANCHOVY BUTTER. 1637. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of butter allow 6 anchovies, 1 small bunch of parsley. _Mode_.--Wash, bone, and pound the anchovies well in a mortar; scald the parsley, chop it, and rub through a sieve; then pound all the ingredients together, mix well, and make the butter into pats immediately. This makes a pretty dish, if fancifully moulded, for breakfast or supper, and should be garnished with parsley. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Sufficient_ to make 2 dishes, with 4 pats each. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHEESE. 1638. In families where much cheese is consumed, and it is bought in large quantities, a piece from the whole cheese should be cut, the larger quantity spread with a thickly-buttered sheet of white paper, and the outside occasionally wiped. To keep cheeses moist that are in daily use, when they come from table a damp cloth should be wrapped round them, and the cheese put into a pan with a cover to it, in a cool but not very dry place. To ripen cheeses, and bring them forward, put them into a damp cellar; and, to check too large a production of mites, spirits may be poured into the parts affected. Pieces of cheese which are too near the rind, or too dry to put on table, may be made into Welsh rare-bits, or grated down and mixed with macaroni. Cheeses may be preserved in a perfect state for years, by covering them with parchment made pliable by soaking in water, or by rubbing them over with a coating of melted fat. The cheeses selected should be free from cracks or bruises of any kind. CHEESE.--It is well known that some persons like cheese in a state of decay, and even "alive." There is no accounting for tastes, and it maybe hard to show why mould, which is vegetation, should not be eaten as well as salad, or maggots as well as eels. But, generally speaking, decomposing bodies are not wholesome eating, and the line must be drawn somewhere. STILTON CHEESE. [Illustration: STILTON CHEESE.] 1639. Stilton cheese, or British Parmesan, as it is sometimes called, is generally preferred to all other cheeses by those whose authority few will dispute. Those made in May or June are usually served at Christmas; or, to be in prime order, should be kept from 10 to 12 months, or even longer. An artificial ripeness in Stilton cheese is sometimes produced by inserting a small piece of decayed Cheshire into an aperture at the top. From 3 weeks to a month is sufficient time to ripen the cheese. An additional flavour may also be obtained by scooping out a piece from the top, and pouring therein port, sherry, Madeira, or old ale, and letting the cheese absorb these for 2 or 3 weeks. But that cheese is the finest which is ripened without any artificial aid, is the opinion of those who are judges in these matters. In serving a Stilton cheese, the top of it should be cut off to form a lid, and a napkin or piece of white paper, with a frill at the top, pinned round. When the cheese goes from table, the lid should be replaced. MODE OF SERVING CHEESE. [Illustration: CHEESE-GLASS.] 1640. The usual mode of serving cheese at good tables is to cut a small quantity of it into neat square pieces, and to put them into a glass cheese-dish, this dish being handed round. Should the cheese crumble much, of course this method is rather wasteful, and it may then be put on the table in the piece, and the host may cut from it. When served thus, the cheese must always be carefully scraped, and laid on a white d'oyley or napkin, neatly folded. Cream cheese is often served in a cheese course, and, sometimes, grated Parmesan: the latter should he put into a covered glass dish. Rusks, cheese-biscuits, pats or slices of butter, and salad, cucumber, or water-cresses, should always form part of a cheese course. SMOKING CHEESES.--The Romans smoked their cheeses, to give them a sharp taste. They possessed public places expressly for this use, and subject to police regulations which no one could evade. A celebrated gourmand remarked that a dinner without cheese is like a woman with one eye. CHEESE SANDWICHES. 1641. INGREDIENTS.--Slices of brown bread-and-butter, thin slices of cheese. _Mode_.--Cut from a nice fat Cheshire, or any good rich cheese, some slices about 1/2 inch thick, and place them between some slices of brown bread-and-butter, like sandwiches. Place them on a plate in the oven, and, when the bread is toasted, serve on a napkin very hot and very quickly. _Time_.--10 minutes in a brisk oven. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. each sandwich. _Sufficient_.--Allow a sandwich for each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. CHEESE.--One of the most important products of coagulated milk is cheese. Unfermented, or cream-cheese, when quite fresh, is good for subjects with whom milk does not disagree; but cheese, in its commonest shape, is only fit for sedentary people as an after-dinner stimulant, and in very small quantity. Bread and cheese, as a meal, is only fit for soldiers on march or labourers in the open air, who like it because it "holds the stomach a long time." CAYENNE CHEESES. 1642. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of butter, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of grated cheese, 1/3 teaspoonful of cayenne, 1/3 teaspoonful of salt; water. _Mode_.--Rub the butter in the flour; add the grated cheese, cayenne. and salt; and mix these ingredients well together. Moisten with sufficient water to make the whole into a paste; roll out, and cut into fingers about 4 inches in length. Bake them in a moderate oven a very light colour, and serve very hot. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE A FONDUE. 1643. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, the weight of 2 in Parmesan or good Cheshire cheese, the weight of 2 in butter; pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Separate the yolks from the whites of the eggs; beat the former in a basin, and grate the cheese, or cut it into _very thin_ flakes. Parmesan or Cheshire cheese may be used, whichever is the most convenient, although the former is considered more suitable for this dish; or an equal quantity of each may be used. Break the butter into small pieces, add it to the other ingredients, with sufficient pepper and salt to season nicely, and beat the mixture thoroughly. Well whisk the whites of the eggs, stir them lightly in, and either bake the fondue in a soufflé-dish or small round cake-tin. Fill the dish only half full, as the fondue should rise very much. Pin a napkin round the tin or dish, and serve very hot and very quickly. If allowed to stand after it is withdrawn from the oven, the beauty and lightness of this preparation will be entirely spoiled. _Time_.--From 15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. BRILLAT SAVARIN'S FONDUE. (_An excellent Recipe_.) 1644. INGREDIENTS.--Eggs, cheese, butter, pepper and salt. _Mode_.--Take the same number of eggs as there are guests; weigh the eggs in the shell, allow a third of their weight in Gruyère cheese, and a piece of butter one-sixth of the weight of the cheese. Break the eggs into a basin, beat them well; add the cheese, which should be grated, and the butter, which should be broken into small pieces. Stir these ingredients together with a wooden spoon; put the mixture into a lined saucepan, place it over the fire, and stir until the substance is thick and soft. Put in a little salt, according to the age of the cheese, and a good sprinkling of pepper, and serve the fondue on a very hot silver or metal plate. Do not allow the fondue to remain on the fire after the mixture is set, as, if it boils, it will be entirely spoiled. Brillat Savarin recommends that some choice Burgundy should he handed round with this dish. We have given this recipe exactly as he recommends it to be made; but we have tried it with good Cheshire cheese, and found it answer remarkably well. _Time_.--About 4 minutes to set the mixture. _Average cost_ for 4 persons, 10d. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 egg, with the other ingredients in proportion, for one person. _Seasonable_ at any time. MACARONI, as usually served with the CHEESE COURSE. I. 1645. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of pipe macaroni, 1/4 lb. of butter, 6 oz. of Parmesan or Cheshire cheese, pepper and salt to taste, 1 pint of milk, 2 pints of water, bread crumbs. _Mode_.--Put the milk and water into a saucepan with sufficient salt to flavour it; place it on the fire, and, when it boils quickly, drop in the macaroni. Keep the water boiling until it is quite tender; drain the macaroni, and put it into a deep dish. Have ready the grated cheese, either Parmesan or Cheshire; sprinkle it amongst the macaroni and some of the butter cut into small pieces, reserving some of the cheese for the top layer. Season with a little pepper, and cover the top layer of cheese with some very fine bread crumbs. Warm, without oiling, the remainder of the butter, and pour it gently over the bread crumbs. Place the dish before a bright fire to brown the crumbs; turn it once or twice, that it may be equally coloured, and serve very hot. The top of the macaroni may be browned with a salamander, which is even better than placing it before the fire, as the process is more expeditious; but it should never be browned in the oven, as the butter would oil, and so impart a very disagreeable flavour to the dish. In boiling the macaroni, let it be perfectly tender but firm, no part beginning to melt, and the form entirely preserved. It may be boiled in plain water, with a little salt instead of using milk, but should then have a small piece of butter mixed with it. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 1-3/4 hour to boil the macaroni, 5 minutes to brown it before the fire. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Riband macaroni may be dressed in the same manner, but does not require boiling so long a time. II. 1646. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of pipe or riband macaroni, 1/2 pint of milk, 1/2 pint of veal or beef gravy, the yolks of 2 eggs, 4 tablespoonfuls of cream, 3 oz. of grated Parmesan or Cheshire cheese, 1 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Wash the macaroni, and boil it in the gravy and milk until quite tender, without being broken. Drain it, and put it into rather a deep dish. Beat the yolks of the eggs with the cream and 2 tablespoonfuls of the liquor the macaroni was boiled in; make this sufficiently hot to thicken, but do not allow it to boil; pour it over the macaroni, over which sprinkle the grated cheese and the butter broken into small pieces; brown with a salamander, or before the fire, and serve. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 1-3/4 hour to boil the macaroni, 5 minutes to thicken the eggs and cream, 5 minutes to brown. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. III. 1647. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of pipe macaroni, 1/2 pint of brown gravy No. 436, 6 oz. of grated Parmesan cheese. _Mode_.--Wash the macaroni, and boil it in salt and water until quite tender; drain it, and put it into rather a deep dish. Have ready a pint of good brown gravy, pour it hot over the macaroni, and send it to table with grated Parmesan served on a separate dish. When the flavour is liked, a little pounded mace may be added to the water in which the macaroni is boiled; but this must always be sparingly added, as it will impart a very strong flavour. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 1-3/4 hour to boil the macaroni. _Average cost_, with the gravy and cheese, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. POUNDED CHEESE. 1648. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of cheese allow 3 oz. of fresh butter. _Mode_.--To pound cheese is an economical way of using it, if it has become dry; it is exceedingly good spread on bread, and is the best way of eating it for those whose digestion is weak. Cut up the cheese into small pieces, and pound it smoothly in a mortar, adding butter in the above proportion. Press it down into a jar, cover with clarified butter, and it will keep for several days. The flavour may be very much increased by adding mixed mustard (about a teaspoonful to every lb.), or cayenne, or pounded mace. Curry-powder is also not unfrequently mixed with it. RAMAKINS, to serve with the CHEESE COURSE. 1649. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of Cheshire cheese, 1/4 lb. of Parmesan cheese, 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 4 eggs, the crumb of a small roll; pepper, salt, and pounded mace to taste. _Mode_.--Boil the crumb of the roll in milk for 5 minutes; strain, and put it into a mortar; add the cheese, which should be finely scraped, the butter, the yolks of the eggs, and seasoning, and pound these ingredients well together. Whisk the whites of the eggs, mix them with the paste, and put it into small pans or saucers, which should not be more than half filled. Bake them from 10 to 12 minutes, and serve them very hot and very quickly. This batter answers equally well for macaroni after it is boiled tender. _Time_--10 to 12 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 7 or 8 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. PASTRY RAMAKINS, to serve with the CHEESE COURSE. 1650. INGREDIENTS.--Any pieces of very good light puff-paste Cheshire, Parmesan, or Stilton cheese. _Mode_.--The remains or odd pieces of paste left from large tarts, &c. answer for making these little dishes. Gather up the pieces of paste, roll it out evenly, and sprinkle it with grated cheese of a nice flavour. Fold the paste in three, roll it out again, and sprinkle more cheese over; fold the paste, roll it out, and with a paste-cutter shape it in any way that may be desired. Bake the ramakins in a brisk oven from 10 to 15 minutes, dish them on a hot napkin, and serve quickly. The appearance of this dish may be very much improved by brushing the ramakins over with yolk of egg before they are placed in the oven. Where expense is not objected to, Parmesan is the best kind of cheese to use for making this dish. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, with 1/2 lb. of paste, 10d. _Sufficient_ for 6 or 7 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. TOASTED CHEESE, or SCOTCH RARE-BIT. 1651. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of rich cheese, toast, mustard, and pepper. [Illustration: HOT-WATER CHEESE-DISH.] _Mode_.--Cut some nice rich sound cheese into rather thin slices; melt it in a cheese-toaster on a hot plate, or over steam, and, when melted, add a small quantity of mixed mustard and a seasoning of pepper; stir the cheese until it is completely dissolved, then brown it before the fire, or with a salamander. Fill the bottom of the cheese-toaster with hot water, and serve with dry or buttered toasts, whichever may be preferred. Our engraving illustrates a cheese-toaster with hot-water reservoir: the cheese is melted in the upper tin, which is placed in another vessel of boiling water, so keeping the preparation beautifully hot. A small quantity of porter, or port wine, is sometimes mixed with the cheese; and, if it be not very rich, a few pieces of butter may be mixed with it to great advantage. Sometimes the melted cheese is spread on the toasts, and then laid in the cheese-dish at the top of the hot water. Whichever way it is served, it is highly necessary that the mixture be very hot, and very quickly sent to table, or it will be worthless. _Time_.--About 5 minutes to melt the cheese. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. per slice. _Sufficient_.--Allow a slice to each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. TOASTED CHEESE, or WELSH RARE-BIT. 1652. INGREDIENTS.--Slices of bread, butter, Cheshire or Gloucester cheese, mustard, and pepper. _Mode_.--Cut the bread into slices about 1/2 inch in thickness; pare off the crust, toast the bread slightly without hardening or burning it, and spread it with butter. Cut some slices, not quite so large as the bread, from a good rich fat cheese; lay them on the toasted bread in a cheese-toaster; be careful that the cheese does not burn, and let it be equally melted. Spread over the top a little made mustard and a seasoning of pepper, and serve very hot, with very hot plates. To facilitate the melting of the cheese, it may be cut into thin flakes or toasted on one side before it is laid on the bread. As it is so essential to send this dish hot to table, it is a good plan to melt the cheese in small round silver or metal pans, and to send these pans to table, allowing one for each guest. Slices of dry or buttered toast should always accompany them, with mustard, pepper, and salt. _Time_.--About 5 minutes to melt the cheese. _Average cost_, 1-1/2d. each slice. _Sufficient_.--Allow a slice to each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Should the cheese be dry, a little butter mixed with it will be an improvement. "COW CHEESE."--It was only fifty years after Aristotle--the fourth century before Christ--that butter began to be noticed as an aliment. The Greeks, in imitation of the Parthians and Scythians, who used to send it to them, had it served upon their tables, and called it at first "oil of milk," and later, _bouturos_, "cow cheese." SCOTCH WOODCOCK. 1653. INGREDIENTS.--A few slices of hot buttered toast; allow 1 anchovy to each slice. For the sauce,--1/4 pint of cream, the yolks of 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Separate the yolks from the whites of the eggs; beat the former, stir to them the cream, and bring the sauce to the boiling-point, but do not allow it to boil, or it will curdle. Have ready some hot buttered toast, spread with anchovies pounded to a paste; pour a little of the hot sauce on the top, and serve very hot and very quickly. _Time_.--5 minutes to make the sauce hot. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1/2 slice to each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO CHOOSE EGGS. 1654. In choosing eggs, apply the tongue to the large end of the egg, and, if it feels warm, it is new, and may be relied on as a fresh egg. Another mode of ascertaining their freshness is to hold them before a lighted candle, or to the light, and if the egg looks clear, it will be tolerably good; if thick, it is stale; and if there is a black spot attached to the shell, it is worthless. No egg should be used for culinary purposes with the slightest taint in it, as it will render perfectly useless those with which it has been mixed. Eggs that are purchased, and that cannot be relied on, should always be broken in a cup, and then put into a basin: by this means stale or bad eggs may be easily rejected, without wasting the others. EGGS contain, for their volume, a greater quantity of nutriment than any other article of food. But it does not follow that they are always good for weak stomachs; quite the contrary; for it is often a great object to give the stomach a large surface to work upon, a considerable volume of _ingesta_, over which the nutritive matter is diffused, and so exposed to the action of the gastric juice at many points. There are many persons who cannot digest eggs, however cooked. It is said, however, that their digestibility decreases in proportion to the degree in which they are hardened by boiling. TO KEEP EGGS FRESH FOR SEVERAL WEEKS. 1655. Have ready a large saucepan, capable of holding 3 or 4 quarts, full of boiling water. Put the eggs into a cabbage-net, say 20 at a time, and hold them in the water (which must be kept boiling) _for_ 20 _seconds_. Proceed in this manner till you have done as many eggs as you wish to preserve; then pack them away in sawdust. We have tried this method of preserving eggs, and can vouch for its excellence: they will be found, at the end of 2 or 3 months, quite good enough for culinary purposes; and although the white may be a little tougher than that of a new-laid egg, the yolk will be nearly the same. Many persons keep eggs for a long time by smearing the shells with butter or sweet oil: they should then be packed in plenty of bran or sawdust, and the eggs not allowed to touch each other. Eggs for storing should be collected in fine weather, and should not be more than 24 hours old when they are packed away, or their flavour, when used, cannot be relied on. Another simple way of preserving eggs is to immerse them in lime-water soon after they have been laid, and then to put the vessel containing the lime-water in a cellar or cool outhouse. _Seasonable_.--The best time for preserving eggs is from July to September. EGGS.--The quality of eggs is said to be very much affected by the food of the fowls who lay them. Herbs and grain together make a better food than grain only. When the hens eat too many insects, the eggs have a disagreeable flavour. TO BOIL EGGS FOR BREAKFAST, SALADS, &c. [Illustration: EGG-STAND FOR THE BREAKFAST-TABLE.] 1656. Eggs for boiling cannot be too fresh, or boiled too soon after they are laid; but rather a longer time should be allowed for boiling a new-laid egg than for one that is three or four days old. Have ready a saucepan of boiling water; put the eggs into it gently with a spoon, letting the spoon touch the bottom of the saucepan before it is withdrawn, that the egg may not fall, and consequently crack. For those who like eggs lightly boiled, 3 minutes will be found sufficient; 3-3/4 to 4 minutes will be ample time to set the white nicely; and, if liked hard, 6 to 7 minutes will not be found too long. Should the eggs be unusually large, as those of black Spanish fowls sometimes are, allow an extra 1/2 minute for them. Eggs for salads should be boiled from 10 minutes to 1/4 hour, and should be placed in a basin of cold water for a few minutes; they should then be rolled on the table with the hand, and the shell will peel off easily. _Time_.--To boil eggs lightly, for invalids or children, 3 minutes; to boil eggs to suit the generality of tastes, 3-3/4 to 4 minutes; to boil eggs hard, 6 to 7 minutes; for salads, 10 to 15 minutes. _Note_.--Silver or plated egg-dishes, like that shown in our engraving, are now very much used. The price of the one illustrated is £2. 2s., and may be purchased of Messrs. R. & J. Slack, 336, Strand. EGGS.--When fresh eggs are dropped into a vessel _full_ of boiling water, they crack, because the eggs being well filled, the shells give way to the efforts of the interior fluids, dilated by heat. If the volume of hot water be small, the shells do not crack, because its temperature is reduced by the eggs before the interior dilation can take place. Stale eggs, again, do not crack, because the air inside is easily compressed. BUTTERED EGGS. 1657. INGREDIENTS.--4 new-laid eggs, 2 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Procure the eggs new-laid if possible; break them into a basin, and beat them well; put the butter into another basin, which place in boiling water, and stir till the butter is melted. Pour that and the eggs into a lined saucepan; hold it over a gentle fire, and, as the mixture begins to warm, pour it two or three times into the basin, and back again, that the two ingredients may be well incorporated. Keep stirring the eggs and butter one way until they are hot, _without boiling_, and serve on hot buttered toast. If the mixture is allowed to boil, it will curdle, and so be entirely spoiled. _Time_.--About 5 minutes to make the eggs hot. _Average cost_, 7d. _Sufficient_.--Allow a slice to each person. _Seasonable_ at any time. DUCKS' EGGS. 1658. Ducks' eggs are usually so strongly flavoured that, plainly boiled, they are not good for eating; they answer, however, very well for various culinary preparations where eggs are required; such as custards, &c. &c. Being so large and highly-flavoured, 1 duck's egg will go as far as 2 small hen's eggs; besides making whatever they are mixed with exceedingly rich. They also are admirable when used in puddings. PRIMITIVE METHOD OF COOKING EGGS.--The shepherds of Egypt had a singular manner of cooking eggs without the aid of fire. They placed them in a sling, which they turned so rapidly that the friction of the air heated them to the exact point required for use. FRIED EGGS. 1659. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1/4 lb. of lard, butter or clarified dripping. [Illustration: FRIED EGGS ON BACON.] _Mode_.--Place a delicately-clean frying-pan over a gentle fire; put in the fat, and allow it to come to the boiling-point. Break the eggs into cups, slip them into the boiling fat, and let them remain until the whites are delicately set; and, whilst they are frying, ladle a little of the fat over them. Take them up with a slice, drain them for a minute from their greasy moisture, trim them neatly, and serve on slices of fried bacon or ham; or the eggs may be placed in the middle of the dish, with the bacon put round as a garnish. _Time_.--2 to 3 minutes. Average cost, 1d. each; 2d. when scarce. _Sufficient_ for 2 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. VENERATION FOR EGGS.--Many of the most learned philosophers held eggs in a kind of respect, approaching to veneration, because they saw in them the emblem of the world and the four elements. The shell, they said, represented the earth; the white, water; the yolk, fire; and air was found under the shell at one end of the egg. EGGS A LA MAITRE D'HOTEL. 1660. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 1 tablespoonful of flour, 1/2 pint of milk, pepper and salt to taste, 1 tablespoonful of minced parsley, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 6 eggs. _Mode_.--Put the flour and half the butter into a stewpan; stir them over the fire until the mixture thickens; pour in the milk, which should be boiling; add a seasoning of pepper and salt, and simmer the whole for 5 minutes. Put the remainder of the butter into the sauce, and add the minced parsley; then boil the eggs hard, strip off the shells, cut the eggs into quarters, and put them on a dish. Bring the sauce to the boiling-point, add the lemon-juice, pour over the eggs, and serve. _Time_.--5 minutes to boil the sauce; the eggs, 10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 4 or 5 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. OEUFS AU PLAT, or AU MIROIR, served on the Dish in which they are Cooked. 1661. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 1 oz. of butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Butter a dish rather thickly with good fresh butter; melt it, break the eggs into it the same as for poaching, sprinkle them with white pepper and fine salt, and put the remainder of the butter, cut into very small pieces, on the top of them. Put the dish on a hot plate, or in the oven, or before the fire, and let it remain until the whites become set, but not hard, when serve immediately, placing the dish they were cooked in on another. To hasten the cooking of the eggs, a salamander may be held over them for a minute; but great care must be taken that they are not too much done. This is an exceedingly nice dish, and one very easily prepared for breakfast. _Time_.--3 minutes. _Average cost_, 5d. _Sufficient_ for 2 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. PLOVERS' EGGS. 1662. Plovers' eggs are usually served boiled hard, and sent to table in a napkin, either hot or cold. They may also be shelled, and served the same as eggs à la Tripe, with a good Béchamel sauce, or brown gravy, poured over them. They are also used for decorating salads, the beautiful colour of the white being generally so much admired. POACHED EGGS. [Illustration: EGGS POACHED ON TOAST.] [Illustration: TIN EGG-POACHER.] 1663. INGREDIENTS.--Eggs, water. To every pint of water allow 1 tablespoonful of vinegar. _Mode_.--Eggs for poaching should be perfectly fresh, but not quite new-laid; those that are about 36 hours old are the best for the purpose. If quite new-laid, the white is so milky it is almost impossible to set it; and, on the other hand, if the egg be at all stale, it is equally difficult to poach it nicely. Strain some boiling water into a deep clean frying-pan; break the egg into a cup without damaging the yolk, and, when the water boils, remove the pan to the side of the fire, and gently slip the egg into it. Place the pan over a gentle fire, and keep the water simmering until the white looks nicely set, when the egg is ready. Take it up gently with a slice, cut away the ragged edges of the white, and serve either on toasted bread or on slices of ham or bacon, or on spinach, &c. A poached egg should not be overdone, as its appearance and taste will be quite spoiled if the yolk be allowed to harden. When the egg is slipped into the water, the white should be gathered together, to keep it a little in form, or the cup should be turned over it for 1 minute. To poach an egg to perfection is rather a difficult operation; so, for inexperienced cooks, a tin egg-poacher may be purchased, which greatly facilitates this manner of dressing ecgs. Our illustration clearly shows what it is: it consists of a tin plate with a handle, with a space for three perforated cups. An egg should be broken into each cup, and the machine then placed in a stewpan of boiling water, which has been previously strained. When the whites of the eggs appear set, they are done, and should then be carefully slipped on to the toast or spinach, or with whatever they are served. In poaching eggs in a frying-pan, never do more than four at a time; and, when a little vinegar is liked mixed with the water in which the eggs are done, use the above proportion. _Time_.--2-1/2 to 3-1/2 minutes, according to the size of the egg. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 eggs to each person. _Seasonable_ at any time, but less plentiful in winter. POACHED EGGS, WITH CREAM. 1664. INGREDIENTS.--1 pint of water, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 4 teaspoonfuls of vinegar, 4 fresh eggs, 1/2 gill of cream, salt, pepper, and pounded sugar to taste, 1 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Put the water, vinegar, and salt into a frying-pan, and break each egg into a separate cup; bring the water, &c. to boil, and slip the eggs gently into it without breaking the yolks. Simmer them from 3 to 4 minutes, but not longer, and, with a slice, lift them out on to a hot dish, and trim the edges. Empty the pan of its contents, put in the cream, add a seasoning to taste of pepper, salt, and pounded sugar; bring the whole to the boiling-point; then add the butter, broken into small pieces; toss the pan round and round till the butter is melted; pour it over the eggs, and serve. To insure the eggs not being spoiled whilst the cream, &c., is preparing, it is a good plan to warm the cream with the butter, &c., before the eggs are poached, so that it may be poured over them immediately after they are dished. _Time_.--3 to 4 minutes to poach the eggs, 5 minutes to warm the cream. _Average cost_ for the above quantity, 9d. _Sufficient_ for 2 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. 1665. COMPARATIVE SIZES OF EGGS. [Illustration: 1 SWAN'S EGG. 2 TURKEY'S EGG. 3 DUCK'S EGG. 4 PLOVER'S EGG.] SCOTCH EGGS. 1666. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 6 tablespoonfuls of forcemeat No. 417, hot lard, 1/2 pint of good brown gravy. _Mode_.--Boil the eggs for 10 minutes; strip them from the shells, and cover them with forcemeat made by recipe No. 417; or substitute pounded anchovies for the ham. Fry the eggs a nice brown in boiling lard, drain them before the fire from their greasy moisture, dish them, and pour round from 1/4 to 1/2 pint of good brown gravy. To enhance the appearance of the eggs, they may be rolled in beaten egg and sprinkled with bread crumbs; but this is scarcely necessary if they are carefully fried. The flavour of the ham or anchovy in the forcemeat must preponderate, as it should be very relishing. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the eggs, 5 to 7 minutes to fry them. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. EGGS A LA TRIPE. 1667. INGREDIENTS.--8 eggs, 3/4 pint of Béchamel sauce No. 368, dessertspoonful of finely-minced parsley. _Mode_.--Boil the eggs hard; put them into cold water, peel them, take out the yolks whole, and shred the whites. Make 3/4 pint of Béchamel sauce by recipe No. 368; add the parsley, and, when the sauce is quite hot, put the yolks of the eggs into the middle of the dish, and the shred whites round them; pour over the sauce, and garnish with leaves of puff-paste or fried croûtons. There is no necessity for putting the eggs into the saucepan with the Béchamel; the sauce, being quite hot, will warm the eggs sufficiently. _Time_.--10 minutes to boil the eggs. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 5 or 6 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXIV. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON BREAD, BISCUITS, AND CAKES. BREAD AND BREAD-MAKING. 1668. AMONG the numerous vegetable products yielding articles of food for man, the Cereals hold the first place. By means of skilful cultivation, mankind have transformed the original forms of these growths, poor and ill-flavoured as they perhaps were, into various fruitful and agreeable species, which yield an abundant and pleasant supply. Classified according to their respective richness in alimentary elements, the Cereals stand thus:--Wheat, and its varieties, Rye, Barley, Oats, Rice, Indian Corn. Everybody knows it is wheat flour which yields the best bread. Rye-bread is viscous, hard, less easily soluble by the gastric juice, and not so rich in nutritive power. Flour produced from barley, Indian corn, or rice, is not so readily made into bread; and the article, when made, is heavy and indigestible. 1669. On examining a grain of corn from any of the numerous cereals [Footnote: _Cereal,_ a corn-producing plant; from Ceres, the goddess of agriculture.] used in the preparation of flour, such as wheat, maize, rye, barley, &c., it will be found to consist of two parts,--the husk, or exterior covering, which is generally of a dark colour, and the inner, or albuminous part, which is more or less white. In grinding, these two portions are separated, and the husk being blown away in the process of winnowing, the flour remains in the form of a light brown powder, consisting principally of starch and gluten. In order to render it white, it undergoes a process called "bolting." It is passed through a series of fine sieves, which separate the coarser parts, leaving behind fine white flour,--the "fine firsts" of the corn-dealer. The process of bolting, as just described, tends to deprive flour of its gluten, the coarser and darker portion containing much of that substance; while the lighter part is peculiarly rich in starch. Bran contains a large proportion of gluten; hence it will be seen why brown broad is so much more nutritious than white; in fact, we may lay it down as a general rule, that the whiter the bread the less nourishment it contains. Majendie proved this by feeding a dog for forty days with white wheaten bread, at the end of which time he died; while another dog, fed on brown bread made with flour mixed with bran, lived without any disturbance of his health. The "bolting" process, then, is rather injurious than beneficial in its result; and is one of the numerous instances where fashion has chosen a wrong standard to go by. In ancient times, down to the Emperors, no bolted flour was known. In many parts of Germany the entire meal is used; and in no part of the world are the digestive organs of the people in a better condition. In years of famine, when corn is scarce, the use of bolted flour is most culpable, for from 18 to 20 per cent, is lost in bran. Brown bread has, of late years, become very popular; and many physicians have recommended it to invalids with weak digestions with great success. This rage for white bread has introduced adulterations of a very serious character, affecting the health of the whole community. Potatoes are added for this purpose; but this is a comparatively harmless cheat, only reducing the nutritive property of the bread; but bone-dust and alum are also put in, which are far from harmless. 1670. Bread-making is a very ancient art indeed. The Assyrians, Egyptians, and Greeks, used to make bread, in which oil, with aniseed and other spices, was an element; but this was unleavened. Every family used to prepare the bread for its own consumption, the _trade_ of baking not having yet taken shape. It is said, that somewhere about the beginning of the thirtieth Olympiad, the slave of an archon, at Athens, made leavened bread by accident. He had left some wheaten dough in an earthen pan, and forgotten it; some days afterwards, he lighted upon it again, and found it turning sour. His first thought was to throw it away; but, his master coming up, he mixed this now acescent dough with some fresh dough, which he was working at. The bread thus produced, by the introduction of dough in which alcoholic fermentation had begun, was found delicious by the archon and his friends; and the slave, being summoned and catechised, told the secret. It spread all over Athens; and everybody wanting leavened bread at once, certain persons set up as bread-makers, or bakers. In a short time bread-baking became quite an art, and "Athenian bread" was quoted all over Greece as the best bread, just as the honey of Hyamettus was celebrated as the best honey. 1671. In our own times, and among civilized peoples, bread has become an article of food of the first necessity; and properly so, for it constitutes of itself a complete life-sustainer, the gluten, starch, and sugar, which it contains, representing azotized and hydro-carbonated nutrients, and combining the sustaining powers of the animal and vegetable kingdoms in one product. 1672. WHEATEN BREAD.--The finest, wholesomest, and most savoury bread is made from wheaten flour. There are, of wheat, three leading qualities,-- the soft, the medium, and the hard wheat; the last of which yields a kind of bread that is not so white as that made from soft wheat, but is richer in gluten, and, consequently, more nutritive. 1673. RYE BREAD.--This comes next to wheaten bread: it is not so rich in gluten, but is said to keep fresh longer, and to have some laxative qualities. 1674. BARLEY BREAD, INDIAN-CORN BREAD, &c.--Bread made from barley, maize, oats, rice, potatoes, &c. "rises" badly, because the grains in question contain but little gluten, which makes the bread heavy, close in texture, and difficult of digestion; in fact, corn-flour has to be added before panification can take place. In countries where wheat is scarce and maize abundant, the people make the latter a chief article of sustenance, when prepared in different forms. BREAD-MAKING. 1675. PANIFICATION, or bread-making, consists of the following processes, in the case of Wheaten Flour. Fifty or sixty per cent. of water is added to the flour, with the addition of some leavening matter, and, preferably, of yeast from malt and hops. All kinds of leavening matter have, however, been, and are still used in different parts of the world: in the East Indies, "toddy," which is a liquor that flows from the wounded cocoa-nut tree; and, in the West Indies, "dunder," or the refuse of the distillation of rum. The dough then undergoes the well-known process called _kneading_. The yeast produces fermentation, a process which may be thus described:--The dough reacting upon the leavening matter introduced, the starch of the flour is transformed into saccharine matter, the saccharine matter being afterwards changed into alcohol and carbonic acid. The dough must be well "bound," and yet allow the escape of the little bubbles of carbonic acid which accompany the fermentation, and which, in their passage, cause the numerous little holes which are seen in light bread. 1676. The yeast must be good and fresh, if the bread is to be digestible and nice. Stale yeast produces, instead of vinous fermentation, an acetous fermentation, which flavours the bread and makes it disagreeable. A poor thin yeast produces an imperfect fermentation, the result being a heavy unwholesome loaf. 1677. When the dough is well kneaded, it is left to stand for some time, and then, as soon as it begins to swell, it is divided into loaves; after which it is again left to stand, when it once more swells up, and manifests, for the last time, the symptoms of fermentation. It is then put into the oven, where the water contained in the dough is partly evaporated, and the loaves swell up again, while a yellow crust begins to form upon the surface. When the bread is sufficiently baked, the bottom crust is hard and resonant if struck with the finger, while the crumb is elastic, and rises again after being pressed down with the finger. The bread is, in all probability, baked sufficiently if, on opening the door of the oven, you are met by a cloud of steam which quickly passes away. 1678. One word as to the unwholesomeness of new bread and hot rolls. When bread is taken out of the oven, it is full of moisture; the starch is held together in masses, and the bread, instead of being crusted so as to expose each grain of starch to the saliva, actually prevents their digestion by being formed by the teeth into leathery poreless masses, which lie on the stomach like so many bullets. Bread should always be at least a day old before it is eaten; and, if properly made, and kept in a _cool dry_ place, ought to be perfectly soft and palatable at the end of three or four days. Hot rolls, swimming in melted butter, and new bread, ought to be carefully shunned by everybody who has the slightest respect for that much-injured individual--the Stomach. 1679. AERATED BREAD.--It is not unknown to some of our readers that Dr. Dauglish, of Malvern, has recently patented a process for making bread "light" without the use of leaven. The ordinary process of bread-making by fermentation is tedious, and much labour of human hands is requisite in the kneading, in order that the dough may be thoroughly interpenetrated with the leaven. The new process impregnates the bread, by the application of machinery, with carbonic acid gas, or fixed air. Different opinions are expressed about the bread; but it is curious to note, that, as corn is now reaped by machinery, and dough is baked by machinery, the whole process of bread-making is probably in course of undergoing changes which will emancipate both the housewife and the professional baker from a large amount of labour. 1680. In the production of Aërated Bread, wheaten flour, water, salt, and carbonic acid gas (generated by proper machinery), are the only materials employed. We need not inform our readers that carbonic acid gas is the source of the effervescence, whether in common water coming from a depth, or in lemonade, or any aërated drink. Its action, in the new bread, takes the place of fermentation in the old. 1681. In the patent process, the dough is mixed in a great iron ball, inside which is a system of paddles, perpetually turning, and doing the kneading part of the business. Into this globe the flour is dropped till it is full, and then the common atmospheric air is pumped out, and the pure gas turned on. The gas is followed by the water, which has been aërated for the purpose, and then begins the churning or kneading part of the business. 1682. Of course, it is not long before we have the dough, and very "light" and nice it looks. This is caught in tins, and passed on to the floor of the oven, which is an endless floor, moving slowly through the fire. Done to a turn, the loaves emerge at the other end of the apartment,--and the Aërated Bread is made. 1683. It may be added, that it is a good plan to change one's baker from time to time, and so secure a change in the quality of the bread that is eaten. 1684. MIXED BREADS.--Rye bread is hard of digestion, and requires longer and slower baking than wheaten bread. It is better when made with leaven of wheaten flour rather than yeast, and turns out lighter. It should not be eaten till two days old. It will keep a long time. 1685. A good bread may be made by mixing rye-flour, wheat-flour, and rice-paste in equal proportions; also by mixing rye, wheat, and barley. In Norway, it is said that they only bake their barley broad once a year, such is its "keeping" quality. 1686. Indian-corn flour mixed with wheat-flour (half with half) makes a nice bread; but it is not considered very digestible, though it keeps well. 1687. Rice cannot be made into bread, nor can potatoes; but one-third potato flour to three-fourths wheaten flour makes a tolerably good loaf. 1688. A very good bread, better than the ordinary sort, and of a delicious flavour, is said to be produced by adopting the following recipe:--Take ten parts of wheat-flour, five parts of potato-flour, one part of rice-paste; knead together, add the yeast, and bake as usual. This is, of course, cheaper than wheaten bread. 1689. Flour, when freshly ground, is too glutinous to make good bread, and should therefore not be used immediately, but should be kept dry for a few weeks, and stirred occasionally, until it becomes dry, and crumbles easily between the fingers. 1690. Flour should be perfectly dry before being used for bread or cakes; if at all damp, the preparation is sure to be heavy. Before mixing it with the other ingredients, it is a good plan to place it for an hour or two before the fire, until it feels warm and dry. 1691. Yeast from home-brewed beer is generally preferred to any other: it is very bitter, and, on that account, should be well washed, and put away until the thick mass settles. If it still continues bitter, the process should be repeated; and, before being used, all the water floating at the top must be poured off. German yeast is now very much used, and should be moistened, and thoroughly mixed with the milk or water with which the bread is to be made. 1692. The following observations are extracted from a valuable work on Bread-making, [Footnote: "The English Bread-Book." By Eliza Acton. London: Longman.] and will be found very useful to our readers:-- 1693. The first thing required for making wholesome bread is the utmost cleanliness; the next is the soundness and sweetness of all the ingredients used for it; and, in addition to these, there must be attention and care through the whole process. 1694. An almost certain way of spoiling dough is to leave it half-made, and to allow it to become cold before it is finished. The other most common causes of failure are using yeast which is no longer sweet, or which has been frozen, or has had hot liquid poured over it. 1695. Too small a proportion of yeast, or insufficient time allowed for the dough to rise, will cause the bread to be heavy. 1696. Heavy bread will also most likely be the result of making the dough very hard, and letting it become quite, cold, particularly in winter. 1697. If either the sponge or the dough be permitted to overwork itself, that is to say, if the mixing and kneading be neglected when it has reached the proper point for either, sour bread will probably be the consequence in warm weather, and bad bread in any. The goodness will also be endangered by placing it so near a fire as to make any part of it hot, instead of maintaining the gentle and equal degree of heat required for its due fermentation. 1698. MILK OR BUTTER.--Milk which is not perfectly sweet will not only injure the flavour of the bread, but, in sultry weather, will often cause it to be quite uneatable; yet either of them, if fresh and good, will materially improve its quality. 1699. To keep bread sweet and fresh, as soon as it is cold it should be put into a clean earthen pan, with a cover to it: this pan should be placed at a little distance from the ground, to allow a current of air to pass underneath. Some persons prefer keeping bread on clean wooden shelves, without being covered, that the crust may not soften. Stale bread may be freshened by warming it through in a gentle oven. Stale pastry, cakes, &c., may also be improved by this method. 1700. The utensils required for making bread, on a moderate scale, are a kneading-trough or pan, sufficiently large that the dough may be kneaded freely without throwing the flour over the edges, and also to allow for its rising; a hair sieve for straining yeast, and one or two strong spoons. 1701. Yeast must always be good of its kind, and in a fitting state to produce ready and proper fermentation. Yeast of strong beer or ale produces more effect than that of milder kinds; and the fresher the yeast, the smaller the quantity will be required to raise the dough. 1702. As a general rule, the oven for baking bread should be rather quick, and the heat so regulated as to penetrate the dough without hardening the outside. The oven door should not be opened after the bread is put in until the dough is set, or has become firm, as the cool air admitted will have an unfavourable effect on it. 1703. Brick ovens are generally considered the best adapted for baking bread: these should be heated with wood faggots, and then swept and mopped out, to cleanse them for the reception of the bread. Iron ovens are more difficult to manage, being apt to burn the surface of the bread before the middle is baked. To remedy this, a few clean bricks should be set at the bottom of the oven, close together, to receive the tins of bread. In many modern stoves the ovens are so much improved that they bake admirably; and they can always be brought to the required temperature, when it is higher than is needed, by leaving the door open for a time. A FEW HINTS respecting the Making and Baking of CAKES. 1704. _Eggs_ should always be broken into a cup, the whites and yolks separated, and they should always be strained. Breaking the eggs thus, the bad ones may be easily rejected without spoiling the others, and so cause no waste. As eggs are used instead of yeast, they should be very thoroughly whisked; they are generally sufficiently beaten when thick enough to carry the drop that falls from the whisk. 1705. _Loaf Sugar_ should be well pounded, and then sifted through a fine sieve. 1706. _Currants_ should be nicely washed, picked, dried in a cloth, and then carefully examined, that no pieces of grit or stone may be left amongst them. They should then be laid on a dish before the fire, to become thoroughly dry; as, if added damp to the other ingredients, cakes will be liable to be heavy. 1707. _Good Butter_ should always be used in the manufacture of cakes; and if beaten to a cream, it saves much time and labour to warm, but not melt, it before beating. 1708. Less butter and eggs are required for cakes when yeast is mixed with the other ingredients. 1709. The heat of the oven is of great importance, especially for large cakes. If the heat be not tolerably fierce, the batter will not rise. If the oven is too quick, and there is any danger of the cake burning or catching, put a sheet of clean paper over the top. Newspaper, or paper that has been printed on, should never be used for this purpose. 1710. To know when a cake is sufficiently baked, plunge a clean knife into the middle of it; draw it quickly out, and if it looks in the least sticky, put the cake back, and close the oven door until the cake is done. 1711. Cakes should be kept in closed tin canisters or jars, and in a dry place. Those made with yeast do not keep so long as those made without it. BISCUITS. 1712. Since the establishment of the large modern biscuit manufactories, biscuits have been produced both cheap and wholesome, in, comparatively speaking, endless variety. Their actual component parts are, perhaps, known only to the various makers; but there are several kinds of biscuits which have long been in use, that may here be advantageously described. 1713. Biscuits belong to the class of unfermented bread, and are, perhaps, the most wholesome of that class. In cases where fermented bread does not agree with the human stomach, they may be recommended: in many instances they are considered lighter, and less liable to create acidity and flatulence. The name is derived from the French _bis cuit_, "twice-baked," because, originally, that was the mode of entirely depriving them of all moisture, to insure their keeping; but, although that process is no longer employed, the name is retained. The use of this kind of bread on land is pretty general, and some varieties are luxuries; but, at sea, biscuits are articles of the first necessity. 1714. SEA, or SHIP BISCUITS, are made of wheat-flour from which only the coarsest bran has been separated. The dough is made up as stiff as it can be worked, and is then formed into shapes, and baked in an oven; after which, the biscuits are exposed in lofts over the oven until perfectly dry, to prevent them from becoming mouldy when stored. 1715. CAPTAINS' BISCUITS are made in a similar manner, only of fine flour. RECIPES. CHAPTER XXXV. TO MAKE YEAST FOR BREAD. 1716. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 oz. of hops, 3 quarts of water, 1 lb. of bruised malt, 1/2 pint of yeast. _Mode_.--Boil the hops in the water for 20 minutes; let it stand for about 5 minutes, then add it to 1 lb. of bruised malt prepared as for brewing. Let the mixture stand covered till about lukewarm; then put in not quite 1/2 pint of yeast; keep it warm, and let it work 3 or 4 hours; then put it into small 1/2-pint bottles (ginger-beer bottles are the best for the purpose), cork them well, and tie them down. The yeast is now ready for use; it will keep good for a few weeks, and 1 bottle will be found sufficient for 18 lbs. of flour. When required for use, boil 3 lbs. of potatoes without salt, mash them in the same water in which they were boiled, and rub them through a colander. Stir in about 1/2 lb. of flour; then put in the yeast, pour it in the middle of the flour, and let it stand warm on the hearth all night, and in the morning let it be quite warm when it is kneaded. The bottles of yeast require very careful opening, as it is generally exceedingly ripe. _Time_.--20 minutes to boil the hops and water, the yeast to work 3 or 4 hours. _Sufficient._--1/2 pint sufficient for 18 lbs. of flour. KIRKLEATHAM YEAST. 1717. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of hops, 4 quarts of water, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 pint of yeast. _Mode_.--Boil the hops and water for 20 minutes; strain, and mix with the liquid 1/2 lb. of flour and not quite 1/2 pint of yeast. Bottle it up, and tie the corks down. When wanted for use, boil potatoes according to the quantity of bread to be made (about 3 lbs. are sufficient for about a peck of flour); mash them, add to them 1/2 lb. of flour, and mix about 1/2 pint of the yeast with them; let this mixture stand all day, and lay the bread to rise the night before it is wanted. _Time_.--20 minutes to boil the hops and water. _Sufficient_.--1/2 pint of this yeast sufficient for a peck of flour, or rather more. TO MAKE GOOD HOME-MADE BREAD. (_Miss Acton's Recipe_.) 1718. INGREDIENTS.--1 quartern of flour, 1 large tablespoonful of solid brewer's yeast, or nearly 1 oz. of fresh German yeast, 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 pint of warm milk-and-water. [Illustration: COTTAGE LOAF.] [Illustration: TIN BREAD.] _Mode_.--Put the flour into a large earthenware bowl or deep pan; then, with a strong metal or wooden spoon, hollow out the middle; but do not clear it entirely away from the bottom of the pan, as, in that case, the sponge (or leaven, as it was formerly termed) would stick to it, which it ought not to do. Next take either a large tablespoonful of brewer's yeast which has been rendered solid by mixing it with plenty of cold water, and letting it afterwards stand to settle for a day and night; or nearly an ounce of German yeast; put it into a large basin, and proceed to mix it, so that it shall be as smooth as cream, with 3/4 pint of warm milk-and-water, or with water only; though even a very little milk will much improve the bread. Pour the yeast into the hole made in the flour, and stir into it as much of that which lies round it as will make a thick batter, in which there must be no lumps. Strew plenty of flour on the top; throw a thick clean cloth over, and set it where the air is warm; but do not place it upon the kitchen fender, for it will become too much heated there. Look at it from time to time: when it has been laid for nearly an hour, and when the yeast has risen and broken through the flour, so that bubbles appear in it, you will know that it is ready to be made up into dough. Then place the pan on a strong chair, or dresser, or table, of convenient height; pour into the sponge the remainder of the warm milk-and-water; stir into it as much of the flour as you can with the spoon; then wipe it out clean with your fingers, and lay it aside. Next take plenty of the remaining flour, throw it on the top of the leaven, and begin, with the knuckles of both hands, to knead it well. When the flour is nearly all kneaded in, begin to draw the edges of the dough towards the middle, in order to mix the whole thoroughly; and when it is free from flour and lumps and crumbs, and does not stick to the hands when touched, it will be done, and may again be covered with the cloth, and left to rise a second time. In 3/4 hour look at it, and should it have swollen very much, and begin to crack, it will be light enough to bake. Turn it then on to a paste-board or very clean dresser, and with a large sharp knife divide it in two; make it up quickly into loaves, and dispatch it to the oven: make one or two incisions across the tops of the loaves, as they will rise more easily if this be done. If baked in tins or pans, rub them with a tiny piece of butter laid on a piece of clean paper, to prevent the dough from sticking to them. All bread should be turned upside down, or on its side, as soon as it is drawn from the oven: if this be neglected, the under part of the loaves will become wet and blistered from the steam, which cannot then escape from them. _To make the dough without setting a sponge_, merely mix the yeast with the greater part of the warm milk-and-water, and wet up the whole of the flour at once after a little salt has been stirred in, proceeding exactly, in every other respect, as in the directions just given. As the dough will _soften_ in the rising, it should be made quite firm at first, or it will be too lithe by the time it is ready for the oven. [Illustration: ITALIAN MILLET.] _Time_.--To be left to rise an hour the first time, 3/4 hour the second time; to be baked from 1 to 1-1/4 hour, or baked in one loaf from 1-1/2 to 2 hours. ITALIAN MILLET, or Great Indian Millet, is cultivated in Egypt and Nubia, where it is called _dhourra_, and is used as human food, as well as for the fermentation of beer. It will grow on poor soils, and is extremely productive. It has been introduced into Italy, where they make a coarse bread from it; and it is also employed in pastry and puddings: they also use it for feeding horses and domestic fowls. It is the largest variety, growing to the height of six feet; but it requires a warm climate, and will not ripen in this country. A yellow variety, called Golden Millet, is sold in the grocers' shops, for making puddings, and is very delicate and wholesome. TO MAKE A PECK OF GOOD BREAD. 1719. INGREDIENTS.--3 lbs. of potatoes, 6 pints of cold water, 1/2 pint of good yeast, a peck of flour, 2 oz. of salt. _Mode_.--Peel and boil the potatoes; beat them to a cream while warm; then add 1 pint of cold water, strain through a colander, and add to it 1/2 pint of good yeast, which should have been put in water over-night, to take off its bitterness. Stir all well together with a wooden spoon, and pour the mixture into the centre of the flour; mix it to the substance of cream, cover it over closely, and let it remain near the fire for an hour; then add the 5 pints of water, milk-warm, with 2 oz. of salt; pour this in, and mix the whole to a nice light dough. Let it remain for about 2 hours; then make it into 7 loaves, and bake for about 1-1/2 hour in a good oven. When baked, the bread should weigh nearly 20 lbs. _Time_.--About 1-1/2 hour. THE RED VARIETIES OF WHEAT are generally hardier and more easily grown than the white sorts, and, although of less value to the miller, they are fully more profitable to the grower, in consequence of the better crops which they produce. Another advantage the red wheats possess is their comparative immunity from the attacks of mildew and fly. The best English wheat comes from the counties of Kent and Essex; the qualities under these heads always bearing a higher price than others, as will be seen by the periodical lists in the journals. RICE BREAD. 1720. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of rice allow 4 lbs. of wheat flour, nearly 3 tablespoonfuls of yeast, 1/4 oz. of salt. _Mode_.--Boil the rice in water until it is quite tender; pour off the water, and put the rice, before it is cold, to the flour. Mix these well together with the yeast, salt, and sufficient warm water to make the whole into a smooth dough; let it rise by the side of the fire, then form it into loaves, and bake them from 1-1/2 to 2 hours, according to their size. If the rice is boiled in milk instead of water, it makes very delicious bread or cakes. When boiled in this manner, it may be mixed with the flour without straining the liquid from it. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. INDIAN-CORN-FLOUR BREAD. 1721. INGREDIENTS.--To 4 lbs. of flour allow 2 lbs. of Indian-corn flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of yeast, 3 pints of warm water, 1/4 oz. of salt. _Mode_.--Mix the two flours well together, with the salt; make a hole in the centre, and stir the yeast up well with 1/2 pint of the warm water; put this into the middle of the flour, and mix enough of it with the yeast to make a thin batter; throw a little flour over the surface of this batter, cover the whole with a thick cloth, and set it to rise in a warm place. When the batter has nicely risen, work the whole to a nice smooth dough, adding the water as required; knead it well, and mould the dough into loaves; let them rise for nearly 1/2 hour, then put them into a well-heated oven. If made into 2 loaves, they will require from 1-1/2 to 2 hours baking. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. [Illustration: MAIZE PLANT.] [Illustration: EAR OF MAIZE.] MAIZE.--Next to wheat and rice, maize is the grain most used in the nourishment of man. In Asia, Africa, and America, it is the principal daily food of a large portion of the population, especially of the colonists. In some of the provinces of France, too, it is consumed in large quantities. There are eight varieties of the maize; the most productive is the maize of Cusco. The flour of maize is yellow, and it contains an oily matter, which, when fresh, gives it an agreeable flavour and odour; but the action of the air on it soon develops rancidity. If carried any distance, it should be stored away in air-tight vessels. An excellent soup is prepared with meat and maize-flour. The inhabitants of some countries, where wheat is scarce, make, with maize and water, or milk and salt, a kind of biscuit, which is pleasant in taste, but indigestible. Some of the preparations of maize-flour are very good, and, when partaken in moderation, suitable food for almost everybody. SODA BREAD. 1722. INGREDIENTS.--To every 2 lbs. of flour allow 1 teaspoonful of tartaric acid, 1 teaspoonful of salt, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, 2 breakfast-cupfuls of cold milk. _Mode_.--Let the tartaric acid and salt be reduced to the finest possible powder; then mix them well with the flour. Dissolve the soda in the milk, and pour it several times from one basin to another, before adding it to the flour. Work the whole quickly into a light dough, divide it into 2 loaves, and put them into a well-heated oven immediately, and bake for an hour. Sour milk or buttermilk may be used, but then a little less acid will be needed. _Time_.--1 hour. POLISH AND POMERANIAN WHEAT are accounted by authorities most excellent. Large raft-like barges convey this grain down the rivers, from the interior of the country to the seaports. This corn is described as being white, hard, and thin-skinned; and it yields a large quantity of flour, having a small proportion of bran. EXCELLENT ROLLS. 1723. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 1 oz. of butter, 1/4 pint of milk, 1 large teaspoonful of yeast, a little salt. [Illustration: ROLLS.] _Mode_.--Warm the butter in the milk, add to it the yeast and salt, and mix these ingredients well together. Put the flour into a pan, stir in the above ingredients, and let the dough rise, covered in a warm place. Knead it well, make it into rolls, let them rise again for a few minutes, and bake in a quick oven. Richer rolls may be made by adding 1 or 2 eggs and a larger proportion of butter, and their appearance improved by brushing the tops over with yolk of egg or a little milk. _Time_--1 lb. of flour, divided into 6 rolls, from 15 to 20 minutes. HOT ROLLS. 1724. This dish, although very unwholesome and indigestible, is nevertheless a great favourite, and eaten by many persons. As soon as the rolls come from the baker's, they should be put into the oven, which, in the early part of the morning, is sure not to be very hot; and the rolls must not be buttered until wanted. When they are quite hot, divide them lengthwise into three; put some thin flakes of good butter between the slices, press the rolls together, and put them in the oven for a minute or two, but not longer, or the butter would oil; take them out of the oven, spread the butter equally over, divide the rolls in half, and put them on to a very hot clean dish, and send them instantly to table. TO MAKE DRY TOAST. 1725. To make dry toast properly, a great deal of attention is required; much more, indeed, than people generally suppose. Never use new bread for making any kind of toast, as it eats heavy, and, besides, is very extravagant. Procure a loaf of household bread about two days old; cut off as many slices as may be required, not quite 1/4 inch in thickness; trim off the crusts and ragged edges, put the bread on a toasting-fork, and hold it before a very clear fire. Move it backwards and forwards until the bread is nicely coloured; then turn it and toast the other side, and do not place it so near the fire that it blackens. Dry toast should be more gradually made than buttered toast, as its great beauty consists in its crispness, and this cannot be attained unless the process is slow and the bread is allowed gradually to colour. It should never be made long before it is wanted, as it soon becomes tough, unless placed on the fender in front of the fire. As soon as each piece is ready, it should be put into a rack, or stood upon its edges, and sent quickly to table. TO MAKE HOT BUTTERED TOAST. 1726. A loaf of household bread about two days old answers for making toast better than cottage bread, the latter not being a good shape, and too crusty for the purpose. Cut as many nice even slices as may be required, rather more than 1/4 inch in thickness, and toast them before a very bright fire, without allowing the bread to blacken, which spoils the appearance and flavour of all toast. When of a nice colour on both sides, put it on a hot plate; divide some good butter into small pieces, place them on the toast, set this before the fire, and when the butter is just beginning to melt, spread it lightly over the toast. Trim off the crust and ragged edges, divide each round into 4 pieces, and send the toast quickly to table. Some persons cut the slices of toast across from corner to corner, so making the pieces of a three-cornered shape. Soyer recommends that each slice should be cut into pieces as soon as it is buttered, and when all are ready, that they should be piled lightly on the dish they are intended to be served on. He says that by cutting through 4 or 5 slices at a time, all the butter is squeezed out of the upper ones, while the bottom one is swimming in fat liquid. It is highly essential to use good butter for making this dish. MUFFINS. 1727. INGREDIENTS.--To every quart of milk allow 1-1/2 oz. of German yeast, a little salt; flour. [Illustration: MUFFINS.] _Mode_.--Warm the milk, add to it the yeast, and mix these well together; put them into a pan, and stir in sufficient flour to make the whole into a dough of rather a soft consistence; cover it over with a cloth, and place it in a warm place to rise, and, when light and nicely risen, divide the dough into pieces, and round them to the proper shape with the hands; place them, in a layer of flour about two inches thick, on wooden trays, and let them rise again; when this is effected, they each will exhibit a semi-globular shape. Then place them carefully on a hot-plate or stove, and bake them until they are slightly browned, turning them when they are done on one side. Muffins are not easily made, and are more generally purchased than manufactured at home. _To toast them_, divide the edge of the muffin all round, by pulling it open, to the depth of about an inch, with the fingers. Put it on a toasting-fork, and hold it before a very clear fire until one side is nicely browned, but not burnt; turn, and toast it on the other. Do not toast them too quickly, as, if this is done, the middle of the muffin will not be warmed through. When done, divide them by pulling them open; butter them slightly on both sides, put them together again, and cut them into halves: when sufficient are toasted and buttered, pile them on a very hot dish, and send them very quickly to table. _Time_.--From 20 minutes to 1/2 hour to bake them. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 muffin to each person. CRUMPETS. [Illustration: CRUMPETS.] 1728. These are made in the same manner as muffins; only, in making the mixture, let it be more like batter than dough. Let it rise for about 1/2 hour; pour it into iron rings, which should be ready on a hot-plate; bake them, and when one side appears done, turn them quickly on the other. _To toast them_, have ready a very _bright clear_ fire; put the crumpet on a toasting-fork, and hold it before the fire, _not too close_, until it is nicely brown on one side, but do not allow it to blacken. Turn it, and brown the other side; then spread it with good butter, cut it in half, and, when all are done, pile them on a hot dish, and send them quickly to table. Muffins and crumpets should always be served on separate dishes, and both toasted and served as expeditiously as possible. _Time_.--From 10 to 15 minutes to bake them. _Sufficient_.--Allow 2 crumpets to each person. PLAIN BUNS. 1729. INGREDIENTS.--To every 2 lbs. of flour allow 6 oz. of moist sugar, 1/2 gill of yeast, 1/2 pint of milk, 1/2 lb. of butter, warm milk. _Mode_.--Put the flour into a basin, mix the sugar well with it, make a hole in the centre, and stir in the yeast and milk (which should be lukewarm), with enough of the flour to make it the thickness of cream. Cover the basin over with a cloth, and let the sponge rise in a warm place, which will be accomplished in about 1-1/2 hour. Melt the butter, but do not allow it to oil; stir it into the other ingredients, with enough warm milk to make the whole into a soft dough; then mould it into buns about the size of an egg; lay them in rows quite 3 inches apart; set them again in a warm place, until they have risen to double their size; then put them into a good brisk oven, and just before they are done, wash them over with a little milk. From 15 to 20 minutes will be required to bake them nicely. These buns may be varied by adding a few currants, candied peel, or caraway seeds to the other ingredients; and the above mixture answers for hot cross buns, by putting in a little ground allspice; and by pressing a tin mould in the form of a cross in the centre of the bun. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1d. each. _Sufficient_ to make 18 buns. TO MAKE GOOD PLAIN BUNS. 1730. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 6 oz. of good butter, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 1 egg, nearly 1/4 pint of milk, 2 small teaspoonfuls of baking-powder, a few drops of essence of lemon. _Mode_.--Warm the butter, without oiling it; beat it with a wooden spoon; stir the flour in gradually with the sugar, and mix these ingredients well together. Make the milk lukewarm, beat up with it the yolk of the egg and the essence of lemon, and stir these to the flour, &c. Add the baking-powder, beat the dough well for about 10 minutes, divide it into 24 pieces, put them into buttered tins or cups, and bake in a brisk oven from 20 to 30 minutes. _Time_.--20 to 30 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ to make 12 buns. _Seasonable_ at any time. LIGHT BUNS. [Illustration: BUNS.] 1731. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 teaspoonful of tartaric acid, 1/2 teaspoonful of bicarbonate of soda, 1 lb. of flour, 2 oz. of butter, 2 oz. of loaf sugar, 1/4 lb. of currants or raisins,--when liked, a few caraway seeds, 1/2 pint of cold new milk, 1 egg. _Mode_.--Rub the tartaric acid, soda, and flour all together through a hair sieve; work the butter into the flour; add the sugar, currants, and caraway seeds, when the flavour of them latter is liked. Mix all these ingredients well together; make a hole in the middle of the flour, and pour in the milk, mixed with the egg, which should be well beaten; mix quickly, and set the dough, with a fork, on baking-tins, and bake the buns for about 20 minutes. This mixture makes a very good cake, and if put into a tin, should be baked 1-1/2 hour. The same quantity of flour, soda, and tartaric acid, with 1/2 pint of milk and a little salt, will make either bread or teacakes, if wanted quickly. _Time_.--20 minutes for the buns; if made into a cake, 1-1/2 hour. _Sufficient_ to make about 12 buns. VICTORIA BUNS. 1732. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of pounded loaf sugar, 1 egg, 1-1/2 oz. of ground rice, 2 oz. of butter, 1-1/2 oz. of currants, a few thin slices of candied peel; flour. _Mode_.--Whisk the egg, stir in the sugar, and beat these ingredients well together; beat the butter to a cream, stir in the ground rice, currants, and candied peel, and as much flour as will make it of such a consistency that it may be rolled into 7 or 8 balls. Put these on to a buttered tin, and bake them from 1/2 to 3/4 hour. They should be put into the oven immediately, or they will become heavy; and the oven should be tolerably brisk. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ to make 7 or 8 buns. _Seasonable_ at any time. ITALIAN RUSKS. 1733. A stale Savoy or lemon cake may be converted into very good rusks in the following manner. Cut the cake into slices, divide each slice in two; put them on a baking-sheet, in a slow oven, and when they are of a nice brown and quite hard, they are done. They should be kept in a closed tin canister in a dry place, to preserve their crispness. [Illustration: PANNICLED MILLET.] PANNICLED MILLET.--This is the smallest-seeded of the corn-plants, being a true grass; but the number of the seeds in each ear makes up for their size. It grows in sandy soils that will not do for the cultivation of many other kinds of grain, and forms the chief sustenance in the arid districts of Arabia, Syria, Nubia, and parts of India. It is not cultivated in England, being principally confined to the East. The nations who make use of it grind it, in the primitive manner, between two stones, and make it into a diet which, cannot be properly called bread, but rather a kind of soft thin cake half-baked. When we take into account that the Arabians are fond of lizards and locusts as articles of food, their _cuisine_, altogether, is scarcely a tempting one. TO MAKE RUSKS. (_Suffolk Recipe_.) 1734. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 2 oz. of butter, 1/4 pint of milk, 2 oz. of loaf sugar, 3 eggs, 1 tablespoonful of yeast. [Illustration: RUSKS.] _Mode_.--Put the milk and butter into a saucepan, and keep shaking it round until the latter is melted. Put the flour into a basin with the sugar, mix these well together, and beat the eggs. Stir them with the yeast to the milk and butter, and with this liquid work the flour into a smooth dough. Cover a cloth over the basin, and leave the dough to rise by the side of the fire; then knead it, and divide it into 12 pieces; place them in a brisk oven, and bake for about 20 minutes. Take the rusks out, break them in half, and then set them in the oven to get crisp on the other side. When cold, they should be put into tin canisters to keep them dry; and, if intended for the cheese course, the sifted sugar should be omitted. _Time_.--20 minutes to bake the rusks; 5 minutes to render them crisp after being divided. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ to make 2 dozen rusks. _Seasonable_ at any time. ALMOND ICING FOR CAKES. 1735. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of finely-pounded loaf sugar allow 1 lb. of sweet almonds, the whites of 4 eggs, a little rose-water. _Mode_.--Blanch the almonds, and pound them (a few at a time) in a mortar to a paste, adding a little rose-water to facilitate the operation. Whisk the whites of the eggs to a strong froth; mix them with the pounded almonds, stir in the sugar, and beat altogether. When the cake is sufficiently baked, lay on the almond icing, and put it into the oven to dry. Before laying this preparation on the cake, great care must be taken that it is nice and smooth, which is easily accomplished by well beating the mixture. SUGAR ICING FOR CAKES. 1736. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of loaf sugar allow the whites of 4 eggs, 1 oz. of fine starch. _Mode_.--Beat the eggs to a strong froth, and gradually sift in the sugar, which should be reduced to the finest possible powder, and gradually add the starch, also finely powdered. Beat the mixture well until the sugar is smooth; then with a spoon or broad knife lay the icing equally over the cakes. These should then be placed in a very cool oven, and the icing allowed to dry and harden, but not to colour. The icing may be coloured with strawberry or currant-juice, or with prepared cochineal. If it be put on the cakes as soon as they are withdrawn from the oven, it will become firm and hard by the time the cakes are cold. On very rich cakes, such as wedding, christening cakes, &c., a layer of almond icing, No. 1735, is usually spread over the top, and over that the white icing as described. All iced cakes should be kept in a very dry place. BISCUIT POWDER, generally used for Infants' Food. 1737. This powder may be purchased in tin canisters, and may also be prepared at home. Dry the biscuits well in a slow oven; roll them and grind them with a rolling-pin on a clean board, until they are reduced to powder; sift it through a close hair sieve, and it is fit for use. It should be kept in well-covered tins, and in a dry place. ARROWROOT BISCUITS OR DROPS. 1738. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of butter, 6 eggs, 1/2 lb. of flour, 6 oz. of arrowroot, 1/2 lb. of pounded loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream; whisk the eggs to a strong froth, add them to the butter, stir in the flour a little at a time, and beat the mixture well. Break down all the lumps from the arrowroot, and add that with the sugar to the other ingredients. Mix all well together, drop the dough on a buttered tin, in pieces the size of a shilling, and bake the biscuits about 1/4 hour in a slow oven. _Time_.--1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to make from 3 to 4 dozen biscuits. _Seasonable_ at any time. NICE BREAKFAST CAKES. 1739. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 teaspoonful of tartaric acid, 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, 1/2 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, 1-1/2 breakfast-cupful of milk, 1 oz. of sifted loaf sugar, 2 eggs. _Mode_.--These cakes are made in the same manner as the soda bread No. 1722, with the addition of eggs and sugar. Mix the flour, tartaric acid, and salt well together, taking care that the two latter ingredients are reduced to the finest powder, and stir in the sifted sugar, which should also be very fine. Dissolve the soda in the milk, add the eggs, which should be well whisked, and with this liquid work the flour, &c. into a light dough. Divide it into small cakes, put them into the oven immediately, and bake for about 20 minutes. _Time_.--20 minutes. COCOA-NUT BISCUITS OR CAKES. 1740. INGREDIENTS.--10 oz. of sifted sugar, 3 eggs, 6 oz. of grated cocoa-nut. _Mode_.--Whisk the eggs until they are very light; add the sugar gradually; then stir in the cocoa-nut. Roll a tablespoonful of the paste at a time in your hands in the form of a pyramid; place the pyramids on paper, put the paper on tins, and bake the biscuits in rather a cool oven until they are just coloured a light brown. _Time_.--About 1/4 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. CRISP BISCUITS. 1741. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, the yolk of 1 egg, milk. _Mode_.--Mix the flour and the yolk of the egg with sufficient milk to make the whole into a very stiff paste; beat it well, and knead it until it is perfectly smooth. Roll the paste out very thin; with a round cutter shape it into small biscuits, and bake them a nice brown in a slow oven from 12 to 18 minutes. _Time_.--12 to 18 minutes. _Average cost_, 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. DESSERT BISCUITS, which may be flavoured with Ground Ginger, Cinnamon, &c. &c. 1742. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of butter, 1/2 lb. of sifted sugar, the yolks of 6 eggs, flavouring to taste. _Mode_.--Put the butter into a basin; warm it, but do not allow it to oil; then with the hand beat it to a cream. Add the flour by degrees, then the sugar and flavouring, and moisten the whole with the yolks of the eggs, which should previously be well beaten. When all the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated, drop the mixture from a spoon on to a buttered paper, leaving a distance between each cake, as they spread as soon as they begin to get warm. Bake in rather a slow oven from 12 to 18 minutes, and do not let the biscuits acquire too much colour. In making the above quantity, half may be flavoured with ground ginger and the other half with essence of lemon or currants, to make a variety. With whatever the preparation is flavoured, so are the biscuits called; and an endless variety may be made in this manner. _Time_.--12 to 18 minutes, or rather longer, in a very slow oven. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to make from 3 to 4 dozen cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON BISCUITS. 1743--INGREDIENTS.--1-1/4 lb. of flour, 3/4 lb. of loaf sugar, 6 oz. of fresh butter, 4 eggs, 1 oz. of lemon-peel, 2 dessertspoonfuls of lemon-juice. _Mode_.--Rub the flour into the butter; stir in the pounded sugar and very finely-minced lemon-peel, and when these ingredients are thoroughly mixed, add the eggs, which should be previously well whisked, and the lemon-juice. Beat the mixture well for a minute or two, then drop it from a spoon on to a buttered tin, about 2 inches apart, as the cakes will spread when they get warm; place the tin in the oven, and bake the cakes of a pale brown from 15 to 20 minutes. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. MACAROONS. 1744. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of sweet almonds, 1/2 lb. of sifted loaf sugar, the whites of 3 eggs, wafer-paper. [Illustration: MACAROONS.] _Mode_.--Blanch, skin, and dry the almonds, and pound them well with a little orange-flower water or plain water; then add to them the sifted sugar and the whites of the eggs, which should be beaten to a stiff froth, and mix all the ingredients well together. When the paste looks soft, drop it at equal distances from a biscuit-syringe on to sheets of wafer-paper; put a strip of almond on the top of each; strew some sugar over, and bake the macaroons in rather a slow oven, of a light brown colour when hard and set, they are done, and must not be allowed to get very brown, as that would spoil their appearance. If the cakes, when baked, appear heavy, add a little more white of egg, but let this always be well whisked before it is added to the other ingredients. We have given a recipe for making these cakes, but we think it almost or quite as economical to purchase such articles as these at a good confectioner's. _Time_.--From 15 to 20 minutes, in a slow oven. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. per lb. RATAFIAS. [Illustration: RATAFIAS.] 1745. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of sweet almonds, 1/4 lb. of bitter ones, 3/4 lb. of sifted loaf sugar, the whites of 4 eggs. _Mode_.--Blanch, skin, and dry the almonds, and pound them in a mortar with the white of an egg; stir in the sugar, and gradually add the remaining whites of eggs, taking care that they are very thoroughly whisked. Drop the mixture through a small biscuit-syringe on to cartridge paper, and bake the cakes from 10 to 12 minutes in rather a quicker oven than for macaroons. A very small quantity should be dropped on the paper to form one cake, as, when baked, the ratafias should be about the size of a large button. _Time_.--10 to 12 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. per lb. RICE BISCUITS OR CAKES. 1746. INGREDIENTS.--To every 1/2 lb. of rice-flour allow 1/4 lb. of pounded lump sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter, 2 eggs. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream, stir in the rice-flour and pounded sugar, and moisten the whole with the eggs, which should be previously well beaten. Roll out the paste, shape it with a round paste-cutter into small cakes, and bake them from 12 to 18 minutes in a very slow oven. _Time_.--12 to 18 minutes. _Average cost_, 9d. _Sufficient_ to make about 18 cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. GROUND RICE, or rice-flour, is used for making several kinds of cakes, also for thickening soups, and for mixing with wheaten flour in producing Manna Kroup. The Americans make rice-bread, and prepare the flour for it in the following manner:--When the rice is thoroughly cleansed, the water is drawn off, and the rice, while damp, bruised in a mortar: it is then dried, and passed through a hair sieve. ROCK BISCUITS. 1747. INGREDIENTS.--6 eggs, 1 lb. of sifted sugar, 1/2 lb. of flour, a few currants. _Mode_.--Break the eggs into a basin, beat them well until very light, add the pounded sugar, and when this is well mixed with the eggs, dredge in the flour gradually, and add the currants. Mix all well together, and put the dough, with a fork, on the tins, making it look as rough as possible. Bake the cakes in a moderate oven from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour; when they are done, allow them to get cool, and store them away in a tin canister, in a dry place. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 2d. _Seasonable_ at any time. SAVOY BISCUITS OR CAKES. 1748. INGREDIENTS.--4 eggs, 6 oz. of pounded sugar, the rind of 1 lemon, 6 oz. of flour. _Mode_.--Break the eggs into a basin, separating the whites from the yolks; beat the yolks well, mix with them the pounded sugar and grated lemon-rind, and beat these ingredients together for 1/4 hour. Then dredge in the flour gradually, and when the whites of the eggs have been whisked to a solid froth, stir them to the flour, &c.; beat the mixture well for another 5 minutes, then draw it along in strips upon thick cartridge paper to the proper size of the biscuit, and bake them in rather a hot oven; but let them be carefully watched, as they are soon done, and a few seconds over the proper time will scorch and spoil them. These biscuits, or ladies'-fingers, as they are called, are used for making Charlotte russes, and for a variety of fancy sweet dishes. _Time_.--5 to 8 minutes, in a quick oven. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. per lb., or 1/2d. each. SEED BISCUITS. 1749. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of sifted sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1/2 oz. of caraway seeds, 3 eggs. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream; stir in the flour, sugar, and caraway seeds; and when these ingredients are well mixed, add the eggs, which should be well whisked. Roll out the paste, with a round cutter shape out the biscuits, and bake them in a moderate oven from 10 to 15 minutes. The tops of the biscuits may be brushed over with a little milk or the white of an egg, and then a little sugar strewn over. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ to make 3 dozen biscuits. _Seasonable_ at any time. SIMPLE HARD BISCUITS. 1750. INGREDIENTS.--To every lb. of flour allow 2 oz. of butter, about 1/2 pint of skimmed milk. _Mode_.--Warm the butter in the milk until the former is dissolved, and then mix it with the flour into a very stiff paste; beat it with a rolling-pin until the dough looks perfectly smooth. Roll it out thin; cut it with the top of a glass into round biscuits; prick them well, and bake them from 6 to 10 minutes. The above is the proportion of milk which we think would convert the flour into a stiff paste; but should it be found too much, an extra spoonful or two of flour must be put in. These biscuits are very nice for the cheese course. _Time_.--6 to 10 minutes. _Seasonable_ at any time. SODA BISCUITS. 1751. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of pounded loaf sugar, 1/4 lb. of fresh butter, 2 eggs, 1 small teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. _Mode_.--Put the flour (which should be perfectly dry) into a basin; rub in the butter, add the sugar, and mix these ingredients well together. Whisk the eggs, stir them into the mixture, and beat it well, until everything is well incorporated. Quickly stir in the soda, roll the paste out until it is about 1/2 inch thick, cut it into small round cakes with a tin cutter, and bake them from 12 to 18 minutes in rather a brisk oven. After the soda is added, great expedition is necessary in rolling and cutting out the paste, and in putting the biscuits _immediately_ into the oven, or they will be heavy. _Time_.--12 to 18 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ to make about 3 dozen cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. ALMOND CAKE. 1752. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of sweet almonds, 1 oz. of bitter almonds, 6 eggs, 8 tablespoonfuls of sifted sugar, 5 tablespoonfuls of fine flour, the grated rind of 1 lemon, 3 oz. of butter. _Mode_.--Blanch and pound the almonds to a paste; separate the whites from the yolks of the eggs; beat the latter, and add them to the almonds. Stir in the sugar, flour, and lemon-rind; add the butter, which should be beaten to a cream; and when all these ingredients are well mixed, put in the whites of the eggs, which should be whisked to a stiff froth. Butter a cake-mould, put in the mixture, and bake in a good oven from 1-1/4 to 1-3/4 hour. _Time_.--1-1/4 to 1-3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICH BRIDE OR CHRISTENING CAKE. 1753. INGREDIENTS.--5 lbs. of the finest flour, 3 lbs. of fresh butter, 5 lbs. of currants, 2 lbs. of sifted loaf sugar, 2 nutmegs, 1/4 oz. of mace, half 1/4 oz. of cloves, 16 eggs, 1 lb. of sweet almonds, 1/2 lb. of candied citron, 1/2 lb. each of candied orange and lemon peel, 1 gill of wine, 1 gill of brandy. _Mode_.--Let the flour be as fine as possible, and well dried and sifted; the currants washed, picked, and dried before the fire; the sugar well pounded and sifted; the nutmegs grated, the spices pounded; the eggs thoroughly whisked, whites and yolks separately; the almonds pounded with a little orange-flower water, and the candied peel cut in neat slices. When all these ingredients are prepared, mix them in the following manner. Begin working the butter with the hand till it becomes of a cream-like consistency; stir in the sugar, and when the whites of the eggs are whisked to a solid froth, mix them with the butter and sugar; next, well beat up the yolks for 10 minutes, and, adding them to the flour, nutmegs, mace, and cloves, continue beating the whole together for 1/2 hour or longer, till wanted for the oven. Then mix in lightly the currants, almonds, and candied peel with the wine and brandy; and having lined a hoop with buttered paper, fill it with the mixture, and bake the cake in a tolerably quick oven, taking care, however, not to burn it: to prevent this, the top of it may be covered with a sheet of paper. To ascertain whether the cake is done, plunge a clean knife into the middle of it, withdraw it directly, and if the blade is not sticky, and looks bright, the cake is sufficiently baked. These cakes are usually spread with a thick layer of almond icing, and over that another layer of sugar icing, and afterwards ornamented. In baking a large cake like this, great attention must be paid to the heat of the oven; it should not be too fierce, but have a good soaking heat. _Time_.--5 to 6 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. per lb. CHRISTMAS CAKE. 1754. INGREDIENTS.--5 teacupfuls of flour, 1 teacupful of melted butter, 1 teacupful of cream, 1 teacupful of treacle, 1 teacupful of moist sugar, 2 eggs, 1/2 oz. of powdered ginger, 1/2 lb. of raisins, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, 1 tablespoonful of vinegar. _Mode_.--Make the butter sufficiently warm to melt it, but do not allow it to oil; put the flour into a basin; add to it the sugar, ginger, and raisins, which should be stoned and cut into small pieces. When these dry ingredients are thoroughly mixed, stir in the butter, cream, treacle, and well-whisked eggs, and beat the mixture for a few minutes. Dissolve the soda in the vinegar, add it to the dough, and be particular that these latter ingredients are well incorporated with the others; put the cake into a buttered mould or tin, place it in a moderate oven immediately, and bake it from 1-3/4 to 2-1/4 hours. _Time_.--1-3/4 to 2-1/4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. COMMON CAKE, suitable for sending to Children at School. 1755. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of flour, 4 oz. of butter or clarified dripping, 1/2 oz. of caraway seeds, 1/4 oz. of allspice, 1/2 lb. of pounded sugar, 1 lb. of currants, 1 pint of milk, 3 tablespoonfuls of fresh yeast. _Mode_.--Rub the butter lightly into the flour; add all the dry ingredients, and mix these well together. Make the milk warm, but not hot; stir in the yeast, and with this liquid make the whole into a light dough; knead it well, and line the cake-tins with strips of buttered paper; this paper should be about 6 inches higher than the top of the tin. Put in the dough; stand it in a warm place to rise for more than an hour; then bake the cakes in a well-heated oven. If this quantity be divided in two, they will take from 1-1/2 to 2 hours' baking. _Time_.--1-3/4 to 2-1/4 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ to make 2 moderate-sized cakes. ECONOMICAL CAKE. [Illustration: CAKE-MOULD.] 1756. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter or lard, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, the whites of 4 eggs, 1/2 pint of milk. _Mode_,--In making many sweet dishes, the whites of eggs are not required, and if well beaten and added to the above ingredients, make an excellent cake, with or without currants. Beat the butter to a cream, well whisk the whites of the eggs, and stir all the ingredients together but the soda, which must not be added until all is well mixed, and the cake is ready to be put into the oven. When the mixture has been well beaten, stir in the soda, put the cake into a buttered mould, and bake it in a moderate oven for 1-1/2 hour. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. A NICE USEFUL CAKE. 1757. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 6 oz. of currants, 1/4 lb. of sugar 1 lb. of dried flour, 2 teaspoonfuls of baking-powder, 3 eggs, 1 teacupful of milk, 2 oz. of sweet almonds, 1 oz. of candied peel. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream; wash, pick, and dry the currants; whisk the eggs; blanch and chop the almonds, and cut the peel into neat slices. When all these are ready, mix the dry ingredients together; then add the butter, milk, and eggs, and beat the mixture well for a few minutes. Put the cake into a buttered mould or tin, and bake it for rather more than 1-1/2 hour. The currants and candied peel may be omitted, and a little lemon or almond flavouring substituted for them: made in this manner, the cake will be found very good. _Time_.--Rather more than 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. HONEY CAKE. 1758. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 breakfast-cupful of sugar, 1 breakfast-cupful of rich sour cream, 2 breakfast-cupfuls of flour, 1/2 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, honey to taste. _Mode_.--Mix the sugar and cream together; dredge in the flour, with as much honey as will flavour the mixture nicely; stir it well, that all the ingredients may be thoroughly mixed; add the carbonate of soda, and beat the cake well for another 5 minutes; put it into a buttered tin, bake it from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, and let it be eaten warm. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 8d. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 persons. _Seasonable_ at any time. RICH SWEETMEAT GINGERBREAD NUTS. 1759. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of treacle, 1/4 lb. of clarified butter, 1 lb. of coarse brown sugar, 2 oz. of ground ginger, 1 oz. of candied orange-peel, 1 oz. of candied angelica, 1/2 oz. of candied lemon-peel, 1/2 oz. of coriander seeds, 1/2 oz. of caraway seeds, 1 egg; flour. _Mode_.--Put the treacle into a basin, and pour over it the butter, melted so as not to oil, the sugar, and ginger. Stir these ingredients well together, and whilst mixing, add the candied peel, which should be cut into very small pieces, but not bruised, and the caraway and coriander seeds, which should be pounded. Having mixed all thoroughly together, break in an egg, and work the whole up with as much fine flour as may be necessary to form a paste. Make this into nuts of any size, put them on a tin plate, and bake in a slow oven from 1/4 to 1/2 hour. _Time_.--1/4 to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 4d. per lb. _Seasonable_ at any time. THICK GINGERBREAD. 1760. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of treacle, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1/4 lb. of coarse brown sugar, 1-1/2 lb. of flour, 1 oz. of ginger, 1/2 oz. of ground allspice, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, 1/4 pint of warm milk, 3 eggs. [Illustration: GINGERBREAD.] _Mode_.--Put the flour into a basin, with the sugar, ginger, and allspice; mix these together; warm the butter, and add it, with the treacle, to the other ingredients. Stir well; make the milk just warm, dissolve the carbonate of soda in it, and mix the whole into a nice smooth dough with the eggs, which should be previously well whisked; pour the mixture into a buttered tin, and bake it from 3/4 to 1 hour, or longer, should the gingerbread be very thick. Just before it is done, brush the top over with the yolk of an egg beaten up with a little milk, and put it back in the oven to finish baking. _Time_.--3/4 to 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. per square. _Seasonable_ at any time. SUNDERLAND GINGERBREAD NUTS. (_An Excellent Recipe_.) 1761. INGREDIENTS.--1-3/4 lb. treacle, 1 lb. of moist sugar, 1 lb. of butter, 2-3/4 lbs. of flour, 1-1/2 oz. of ground ginger, 1-1/2 oz. of allspice, 1-1/2 oz. of coriander seeds. _Mode_.--Let the allspice, coriander seeds, and ginger be freshly ground; put them into a basin, with the flour and sugar, and mix these ingredients well together; warm the treacle and butter together; then with a spoon work it into the flour, &c., until the whole forms a nice smooth paste. Drop the mixture from the spoon on to a piece of buttered paper, and bake in rather a slow oven from 20 minutes to 1/2 hour. A little candied lemon-peel mixed with the above is an improvement, and a great authority in culinary matters suggests the addition of a little cayenne pepper in gingerbread. Whether it be advisable to use this latter ingredient or not, we leave our readers to decide. _Time_.--20 minutes to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. to 1s. 4d. per lb. _Seasonable_ at any time. WHITE GINGERBREAD. 1762. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of butter, 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, the rind of 1 lemon, 1 oz. of ground ginger, 1 nutmeg grated, 1/2 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, 1 gill of milk. _Mode_.--Rub the butter into the flour; add the sugar, which should be finely pounded and sifted, and the minced lemon-rind, ginger, and nutmeg. Mix these well together; make the milk just warm, stir in the soda, and work the whole into a nice smooth paste; roll it out, cut it into cakes, and bake in a moderate oven from 15 to 20 minutes. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Seasonable_ at any time. GOOD HOLIDAY CAKE. 1763. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2d. worth of Borwick's German baking-powder, 2 lbs. of flour, 6 oz. of butter, 1/4 lb. of lard, 1 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of stoned and cut raisins, 1/4 lb. of mixed candied peel, 1/2 lb. of moist sugar, 3 eggs, 3/4 pint of cold milk. _Mode_.--Mix the baking-powder with the flour; then rub in the butter and lard; have ready the currants, washed, picked, and dried the raisins stoned and cut into small pieces (not chopped), and the peel cut into neat slices. Add these with the sugar to the flour, &c., and mix all the dry ingredients well together. Whisk the eggs, stir to them the milk, and with this liquid moisten the cake; beat it up well, that all may be very thoroughly mixed; line a cake-tin with buttered paper, put in the cake, and bake it from 2-1/4 to 2-3/4 hours in a good oven. To ascertain when it is done, plunge a clean knife into the middle of it, and if, on withdrawing it, the knife looks clean, and not sticky, the cake is done. To prevent its burning at the top, a piece of clean paper may be put over whilst the cake is soaking, or being thoroughly cooked in the middle. A steamer, such as is used for steaming potatoes, makes a very good cake-tin, if it be lined at the bottom and sides with buttered paper. _Time_.--2-1/4 to 2-3/4 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMON CAKE. 1764. INGREDIENTS.--10 eggs, 3 tablespoonfuls of orange-flower water, 3/4 lb. of pounded loaf sugar, 1 lemon, 3/4 lb. of flour. [Illustration: CAKE-MOULD.] _Mode_.--Separate the whites from the yolks of the eggs whisk the former to a stiff froth; add the orange-flower water, the sugar, grated lemon-rind, and mix these ingredients well together. Then beat the yolks of the eggs, and add them, with the lemon-juice, to the whites, &c.; dredge in the flour gradually; keep beating the mixture well; put it into a buttered mould, and bake the cake about an hour, or rather longer. The addition of a little butter, beaten to a cream, we think, would improve this cake. _Time_.--About 1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 4d. _Seasonable_ at any time. LUNCHEON CAKE. 1765. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of butter, 1 lb. of flour, 1/2 oz. of caraway seeds, 1/4 lb. of currants, 6 oz. of moist sugar, 1 oz. of candied peel, 3 eggs, 1/2 pint of milk, 1 small teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. _Mode_.--Rub the butter into the flour until it is quite fine; add the caraway seeds, currants (which should be nicely washed, picked, and dried), sugar, and candied peel cut into thin slices; mix these well together, and moisten with the eggs, which should be well whisked. Boil the milk, and add to it, whilst boiling, the carbonate of soda, which must be well stirred into it, and, with the milk, mix the other ingredients. Butter a tin, pour the cake into it, and bake it in a moderate oven from 3/4 to 1 hour. _Time_.--1 to 14 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. CARBONATE OF SODA--Soda was called the mineral alkali, because it was originally dug up out of the ground in Africa and other countries: this state of carbonate of soda is called _natron._ But carbonate of soda is likewise procured from the combustion of marine plants, or such as grow on the sea-shore. Pure carbonate of soda is employed for making effervescing draughts, with lemon-juice, citric acid, or tartaric acid. The chief constituent of soda, the alkali, has been used in France from time immemorial in the manufacture of soap and glass, two chemical productions which employ and keep in circulation an immense amount of capital. A small pinch of carbonate of soda will give an extraordinary lightness to puff pastes; and, introduced into the teapot, will extract the full strength of the tea. But its qualities have a powerful effect upon delicate constitutions, and it is not to be used incautiously in any preparation. A NICE PLAIN CAKE. 1766. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1 teaspoonful of Borwick's baking-powder, 1/4 lb. of good dripping, 1 teacupful of moist sugar, 3 eggs, 1 breakfast-cupful of milk, 1 oz. of caraway seeds, 1/2 lb. of currants. _Mode_.--Put the flour and baking-powder into a basin; stir those together; then rub in the dripping, add the sugar, caraway seeds, and currants; whisk the eggs with the milk, and beat all together very thoroughly until the ingredients are well mixed. Butter a tin, put in the cake, and bake it from 11/2 to 2 hours. Let the dripping be quite clean before using: to insure this, it is a good plan to clarify it. Beef dripping is better than any other for cakes, &c., as mutton dripping frequently has a very unpleasant flavour, which would be imparted to the preparation. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. _Seasonable_ at any time. A NICE PLAIN CAKE FOR CHILDREN. 1767. INGREDIENTS.--1 quartern of dough, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter or good beef dripping, 1/4 pint of warm milk, 1/2 grated nutmeg or 1/2 oz. of caraway seeds. _Mode_.--If you are not in the habit of making bread at home, procure the dough from the baker's, and, as soon as it comes in, put it into a basin near the fire; cover the basin with a thick cloth, and let the dough remain a little while to rise. In the mean time, beat the butter to a cream, and make the milk warm; and when the dough has risen, mix with it thoroughly all the above ingredients, and knead the cake well for a few minutes. Butter some cake-tins, half fill them, and stand them in a warm place, to allow the dough to rise again. When the tins are three parts full, put the cakes into a good oven, and bake them from 13/4 to 2 hours. A few currants might be substituted for the caraway seeds when the flavour of the latter is disliked. _Time_.--1-3/4 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, _1s. 2d._ _Seasonable_ at any time. COMMON PLUM CAKE. 1768. INGREDIENTS.--3 lbs. of flour, 6 oz. of butter or good dripping, 6 oz. of moist sugar, 6 oz. of currants, 4 oz. of pounded allspice, 2 tablespoonfuls of fresh yeast, 1 pint of new milk. _Mode_.--Rub the butter into the flour; add the sugar, currants, and allspice; warm the milk, stir to it the yeast, and mix the whole into a dough; knead it well, and put it into 6 buttered tins; place them near the fire for nearly an hour for the dough to rise, then bake the cakes in a good oven from 1 to 11/4 hour. To ascertain when they are done, plunge a clean knife into the middle, and if on withdrawal it comes out clean, the cakes are done. _Time_.--1 to 1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Sufficient_ to make 6 small cakes. A NICE PLUM CAKE. 1769. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of butter, 1/2 lb. of sugar, 1/2 lb. of currants, 2 oz. of candied lemon-peel, 1/2 pint of milk, 1 teaspoonful of ammonia or carbonate of soda. _Mode_.--Put the flour into a basin with the sugar, currants, and sliced candied peel; beat the butter to a cream, and mix all these ingredients together with the milk. Stir the ammonia into 2 tablespoonfuls of milk and add it to the dough, and beat the whole well, until everything is thoroughly mixed. Put the dough into a buttered tin, and bake the cake from 1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Seasonable_ at any time. POUND CAKE. [Illustration: POUND CAKE.] 1770. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of butter, 1-1/4 lb. of flour, 1 lb. of pounded loaf sugar, 1 lb. of currants, 9 eggs, 2 oz. of candied peel, 1/2 oz. of citron, 1/2 oz. of sweet almonds; when liked, a little pounded mace. _Mode_.--Work the butter to a cream; dredge in the flour; add the sugar, currants, candied peel, which should be cut into neat slices, and the almonds, which should be blanched and chopped, and mix all these well together; whisk the eggs, and let them be thoroughly blended with the dry ingredients. Beat the cake well for 20 minutes, and put it into a round tin, lined at the bottom and sides with a strip of white buttered paper. Bake it from 1-1/2 to 2 hours, and let the oven be well heated when the cake is first put in, as, if this is not the case, the currants will all sink to the bottom of it. To make this preparation light, the yolks and whites of the eggs should be beaten separately, and added separately to the other ingredients. A glass of wine is sometimes added to the mixture; but this is scarcely necessary, as the cake will be found quite rich enough without it. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 3s. 6d. _Sufficient._--The above quantity divided in two will make two nice-sized cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. A PAVINI CAKE. 1771. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of ground rice, 1/2 lb. of raisins stoned and cut into small pieces, 1/4 lb. of currants, 1/4 lb. of butter, 2 oz. of sweet almonds, 1/4 lb. of sifted loaf sugar, 1/2 nutmeg grated, 1 pint of milk, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. _Mode_.--Stone and cut the raisins into small pieces; wash, pick, and dry the currants; melt the butter to a cream, but without oiling it; blanch and chop the almonds, and grate the nutmeg. When all these ingredients are thus prepared, mix them well together; make the milk warm, stir in the soda, and with this liquid make the whole into a paste. Butter a mould, rather more than half fill it with the dough, and bake the cake in a moderate oven from 1-1/2 to 2 hours, or less time should it be made into 2 cakes. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: CAKE-MOULD.] RICE CAKE. 1772. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of ground rice, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, 9 eggs, 20 drops of essence of lemon, or the rind of 1 lemon, 1/4 lb. of butter. _Mode_.--Separate the whites from the yolks of the eggs; whisk them both well, and add to the latter the butter beaten to a cream. Stir in the flour, rice, and lemon (if the rind is used, it must be very finely minced), and beat the mixture well; then add the whites of the eggs, beat the cake again for some time, put it into a buttered mould or tin, and bake it for nearly 1-1/2 hour. It may be flavoured with essence of almonds, when this is preferred. _Time_.--Nearly 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. QUEEN-CAKES. 1773. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of butter, 1/2 lb. of pounded loaf sugar, 3 eggs, 1 teacupful of cream, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda, essence of lemon, or almonds to taste. _Mode_.--Work the butter to a cream; dredge in the flour, add the sugar and currants, and mix the ingredients well together. Whisk the eggs, mix them with the cream and flavouring, and stir these to the flour; add the carbonate of soda, beat the paste well for 10 minutes, put it into small buttered pans, and bake the cake from 1/4 to 1/2 hour. Grated lemon-rind may be substituted for the lemon and almond flavouring, which will make the cakes equally nice. _Time_. 1/4 to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Seasonable_ at any time. SAUCER-CAKE FOR TEA. 1774. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of _tous-les-mois_, 1/4 lb. of pounded white sugar, 1/4 lb. of butter, 2 eggs, 1 oz. of candied orange or lemon-peel. _Mode_.--Mix the flour and _tous-les-mois_ together; add the sugar, the candied peel cut into thin slices, the butter beaten to a cream, and the eggs well whisked. Beat the mixture for 10 minutes, put it into a buttered cake-tin or mould, or, if this is not obtainable, a soup-plate answers the purpose, lined with a piece of buttered paper. Bake the cake in a moderate oven from 1 to 1-1/4 hour, and when cold, put it away in a covered canister. It will remain good some weeks, even if it be cut into slices. _Time_.--1 to 1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Seasonable_ at any time. COMMON SEED-CAKE. 1775. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 quartern of dough, 1/4 lb. of good dripping, 6 oz. of moist sugar, 1/2 oz. of caraway seeds, 1 egg. _Mode_.--If the dough is sent in from the baker's, put it in a basin covered with a cloth, and set it in a warm place to rise. Then with a wooden spoon beat the dripping to a liquid; add it, with the other ingredients, to the dough, and beat it until everything is very thoroughly mixed. Put it into a buttered tin, and bake the cake for rather more than 2 hours. _Time_.--Rather more than 2 hours. _Average cost_, 8d. _Seasonable_ at any time. A VERY GOOD SEED-CAKE. 1776. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of butter, 6 eggs, 3/4 lb. of sifted sugar, pounded mace and grated nutmeg to taste, 1 lb. of flour, 3/4 oz. of caraway seeds, 1 wineglassful of brandy. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream; dredge in the flour; add the sugar, mace, nutmeg, and caraway seeds, and mix these ingredients well together. Whisk the eggs, stir to them the brandy, and beat the cake again for 10 minutes. Put it into a tin lined with buttered paper, and bake it from 1-1/2 to 2 hours. This cake would be equally nice made with currants, and omitting the caraway seeds. _Time_.--1-1/2 to 2 hours. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. _Seasonable_ at any time. BREAD-MAKING IN SPAIN.--The bread in the south of Spain is delicious: it is white as snow, close as cake, and yet very light; the flavour is most admirable, for the wheat is good and pure, and the bread well kneaded. The way they make this bread is as follows:--From large round panniers filled with wheat they take out a handful at a time, sorting it most carefully and expeditiously, and throwing every defective grain into another basket. This done, the wheat is ground between two circular stones, as it was ground in Egypt 2,000 years ago (see No. 117), the requisite rotary motion being given by a blindfolded mule, which paces round and round with untiring patience, a bell being attached to his neck, which, as long as he is in movement, tinkles on; and when it stops, he is urged to his duty by the shout of "_Arre, mula_," from some one within hearing. When ground, the wheat is sifted through three sieves, the last of these being so fine that only the pure flour can pass through it: this is of a pale apricot-colour. The bread is made in the evening. It is mixed with only sufficient water, with a little salt in it, to make it into dough: a very small quantity of leaven, or fermenting mixture is added. The Scripture says, "A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump;" but in England, to avoid the trouble of kneading, many put as much leaven or yeast in one batch of household bread as in Spain would last them a week for the six or eight donkey-loads of bread they send every night from their oven. The dough made, it is put into sacks, and carried on the donkeys' backs to the oven in the centre of the village, so as to bake it immediately it is kneaded. On arriving there, the dough is divided into portions weighing 3 lbs. each. Two long narrow wooden tables on trestles are then placed down the room; and now a curious sight may be seen. About twenty men (bakers) come in and range themselves on one side of the tables. A lump of dough is handed to the nearest, which he commences kneading and knocking about with all his might for about 3 or 4 minutes, and then passes it on to his neighbour, who does the same; and so on successively until all have kneaded it, when it becomes as soft as new putty, and ready for the oven. Of course, as soon as the first baker has handed the first lump to his neighbour, another is given to him, and so on till the whole quantity of dough is successively kneaded by them all. The bakers' wives and daughters shape the loaves for the oven, and some of them are very small, and they are baked immediately. The ovens are very large, and not heated by fires _under_ them; but a quantity of twigs of the herbs of sweet marjoram and thyme, which cover the hills in great profusion, are put in the oven and ignited. They heat the oven to any extent required; and, as the bread gets baked, the oven gets gradually colder; so the bread is never burned. They knead the bread in Spain with such force, that the palm of the hand and the second joints of the fingers of the bakers are covered with corns; and it so affects the chest, that they cannot work more than two hours at a time. SNOW-CAKE. 1777. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of _tous-les-mois_, 1/4 lb. of white pounded sugar, 1/4 lb. of fresh or washed salt butter, 1 egg, the juice of 1 lemon. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream; then add the egg, previously well beaten, and then the other ingredients; if the mixture is not light, add another egg, and beat for 1/4 hour, until it turns white and light. Line a flat tin, with raised edges, with a sheet of buttered paper; pour in the cake, and put it into the oven. It must be rather slow, and the cake not allowed to brown at all. If the oven is properly heated, 1 to 1-1/4 hour will be found long enough to bake it. Let it cool a few minutes, then with a clean sharp knife cut it into small square pieces, which should be gently removed to a large flat dish to cool before putting away. This will keep for several weeks. _Time_.--1 to 1-1/4 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Seasonable_ at any time. SNOW-CAKE. (_A genuine Scotch Recipe_.) 1778. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of arrowroot, 1/2 lb. of pounded white sugar, 1/2 lb. of butter, the whites of 6 eggs; flavouring to taste, of essence of almonds, or vanilla, or lemon. _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream; stir in the sugar and arrowroot gradually, at the same time beating the mixture. Whisk the whites of the eggs to a stiff froth, add them to the other ingredients, and beat well for 20 minutes. Put in whichever of the above flavourings may be preferred; pour the cake into a buttered mould or tin and bake it in a moderate oven from 1 to 1-1/2 hour. _Time_.--1 to 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, with the best Bermuda arrowroot, 4s. 6d.; with St. Vincent ditto, 2s. 9d. _Sufficient_ to make a moderate-sized cake. _Seasonable_ at any time. SCRAP-CAKES. 1779. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of leaf, or the inside fat of a pig; 1-1/2 lb. of flour, 1/4 lb. of moist sugar, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1 oz. of candied lemon-peel, ground allspice to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the leaf, or flead, as it is sometimes called, into small pieces; put it into a large dish, which place in a quick oven; be careful that it does not burn, and in a short time it will be reduced to oil, with the small pieces of leaf floating on the surface; and it is of these that the cakes should be made. Gather all the scraps together, put them into a basin with the flour, and rub them well together. Add the currants, sugar, candied peel, cut into thin slices, and the ground allspice. When all these ingredients are well mixed, moisten with sufficient cold water to make the whole into a nice paste; roll it out thin, cut it into shapes, and bake the cakes in a quick oven from 15 to 20 minutes. These are very economical and wholesome cakes for children, and the lard, melted at home, produced from the flead, is generally better than that you purchase. To prevent the lard from burning, and to insure its being a good colour, it is better to melt it in a jar placed in a saucepan of boiling water; by doing it in this manner, there will be no chance of its discolouring. _Time_.--15 to 20 minutes. _Sufficient_ to make 3 or 4 dozen cakes. _Seasonable_ from September to March. [Illustration: WHEAT.] Wheat is liable to several diseases, which affect the flour made from it, and render it unfit for good bread. The principal of these are the blight, mildew, and smut, which are occasioned by microscopic fungi, which sow themselves and grow upon the stems and ears, destroying the nutritive principles, and introducing matter of a deleterious kind. The farmer is at the utmost pains to keep away these intruders. Wheat, as well as all kinds of corn, is also very liable to be injured by being stacked before it is quite dry; in which case it will heat, and become musty in the ricks. In wet harvests it is sometimes impossible to get it sufficiently dried, and a great deal of corn is thus often spoiled. It is generally reckoned that the sweetest bread is made from wheat threshed out before it is stacked; which shows the importance of studying the best modes of preserving it. The erudite are not agreed as to the aboriginal country of corn: some say it is Egypt, others Tartary; and the learned Bailly, as well as the traveller Pallas, affirms that it grows spontaneously in Siberia. Be that as it may, the Phocians brought it to Marseilles before the Romans had penetrated into Gaul. The Gauls ate the corn cooked or bruised in a mortar: they did not know, for a long time, how to make fermented bread. SCOTCH SHORTBREAD. 1780. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of flour, 1 lb. of butter, 1/4 lb. of pounded loaf sugar, 1/2 oz. of caraway seeds, 1 oz. of sweet almonds, a few strips of candied orange-peel. [Illustration: SHORTBREAD.] _Mode_.--Beat the butter to a cream, gradually dredge in the flour, and add the sugar, caraway seeds, and sweet almonds, which should be blanched and cut into small pieces. Work the paste until it is quite smooth, and divide it into six pieces. Put each cake on a separate piece of paper, roll the paste out square to the thickness of about an inch, and pinch it upon all sides. Prick it well, and ornament with one or two strips of candied orange-peel. Put the cakes into a good oven, and bake them from 25 to 30 minutes. _Time_.--25 to 30 minutes. _Average cost_, for this quantity, 2s. _Sufficient_ to make 6 cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Where the flavour of the caraway seeds is disliked, omit them, and add rather a larger proportion of candied peel. SODA-CAKE. 1781. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of butter, 1 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of moist sugar, 1 teacupful of milk, 3 eggs, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. _Mode_.--Rub the butter into the flour, add the currants and sugar, and mix these ingredients well together. Whisk the eggs well, stir them to the flour, &c., with the milk, in which the soda should be previously dissolved, and beat the whole up together with a wooden spoon or beater. Divide the dough into two pieces, put them into buttered moulds or cake-tins, and bake in a moderate oven for nearly an hour. The mixture must be extremely well beaten up, and not allowed to stand after the soda is added to it, but must be placed in the oven immediately. Great care must also be taken that the cakes are quite done through, which may be ascertained by thrusting a knife into the middle of them: if the blade looks bright when withdrawn, they are done. If the tops acquire too much colour before the inside is sufficiently baked, cover them over with a piece of clean white paper, to prevent them from burning. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ to make 2 small cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. SAVOY CAKE. 1782. INGREDIENTS.--The weight of 4 eggs in pounded loaf sugar, the weight of 7 in flour, a little grated lemon-rind, or essence of almonds, or orange-flower water. _Mode_.--Break the 7 eggs, putting the yolks into one basin and the whites into another. Whisk the former, and mix with them the sugar, the grated lemon-rind, or any other flavouring to taste; beat them well together, and add the whites of the eggs, whisked to a froth. Put in the flour by degrees, continuing to beat the mixture for 1/4 hour, butter a mould, pour in the cake, and bake it from 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour. This is a very nice cake for dessert, and may be iced for a supper-table, or cut into slices and spread with jam, which converts it into sandwiches. _Time_.--1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ for 1 cake. _Seasonable_ at any time. SPONGE-CAKE. I. [Illustration: SPONGE-CAKE.] 1783. INGREDIENTS.--The weight of 8 eggs in pounded loaf sugar, the weight of 5 in flour, the rind of 1 lemon, 1 tablespoonful of brandy. _Mode_.--Put the eggs into one side of the scale, and take the weight of 8 in pounded loaf sugar, and the weight of 5 in good _dry_ flour. Separate the yolks from the whites of the eggs; beat the former, put them into a saucepan with the sugar, and let them remain over the fire until _milk-warm,_ keeping them well stirred. Then put them into a basin, add the grated lemon-rind mixed with the brandy, and stir these well together, dredging in the flour very gradually. Whisk the whites of the eggs to a very stiff froth, stir them to the flour, &c., and beat the cake well for 1/4 hour. Put it into a buttered mould strewn with a little fine sifted sugar, and bake the cake in a quick oven for 1-1/2 hour. Care must be taken that it is put into the oven immediately, or it will not be light. The flavouring of this cake may be varied by adding a few drops of essence of almonds instead of the grated lemon-rind. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 1s. 3d. _Sufficient_ for 1 cake. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration: EGYPTIAN WHEAT.] The Egyptian, or Mummy Wheat, is not grown to any great extent, owing to its inferior quality; but it is notable for its large produce, and is often cultivated on allotment grounds and on small farms, where quantity rather than quality is desired. At Wix, in Essex, the seed of this wheat has produced, without artificial assistance, four thousandfold; some of the ears have had eleven offshoots, and have contained, altogether, eleven grains in one ear. II. 1784. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of loaf sugar, not quite 1/4 pint of water, 5 eggs, 1 lemon, 1/2 lb. of flour, 1/4 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water together until they form a thick syrup; let it cool a little, then pour it to the eggs, which should be previously well whisked; and after the eggs and syrup are mixed together, continue beating them for a few minutes. Grate the lemon-rind, mix the carbonate of soda with the flour, and stir these lightly to the other ingredients; then add the lemon-juice, and, when the whole is thoroughly mixed, pour it into a buttered mould, and bake in rather a quick oven for rather more than 1 hour. The remains of sponge or Savoy cakes answer very well for trifles, light puddings, &c.; and a very stale one (if not mouldy) makes an excellent tipsy-cake. _Time_.--Rather more than 1 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ to make 1 cake. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE SMALL SPONGE-CAKES. 1785. INGREDIENTS.--The weight of 5 eggs in flour, the weight of 8 in pounded loaf sugar; flavouring to taste. _Mode_.--Let the flour be perfectly dry, and the sugar well pounded and sifted. Separate the whites from the yolks of the eggs, and beat the latter up with the sugar; then whisk the whites until they become rather stiff, and mix them with the yolks, but do not stir them more than is just necessary to mingle the ingredients well together. Dredge in the flour by degrees, add the flavouring; batter the tins well, pour in the batter, sift a little sugar over the cakes, and bake them in rather a quick oven, but do not allow them to take too much colour, as they should be rather pale. Remove them from the tins before they get cold, and turn them on their faces, where let them remain until quite cold, when store them away in a closed tin canister or wide-mouthed glass bottle. _Time_.--10 to 15 minutes in a quick oven. _Average cost_, 1d. each. _Seasonable_ at any time. TEA-CAKES. 1786. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of flour, 1/2 teaspoonful of salt, 1/4 lb. of butter or lard, 1 egg, a piece of German yeast the size of a walnut, warm milk. _Mode_.--Put the flour (which should be perfectly dry) into a basin mix with it the salt, and rub in the butter or lard; then beat the egg well, stir to it the yeast, and add these to the flour with as much warm milk as will make the whole into a smooth paste, and knead it well. Let it rise near the fire, and, when well risen, form it into cakes; place them on tins, let them rise again for a few minutes before putting them into the oven, and bake from 1/4 to 1/2 hour in a moderate oven. These are very nice with a few currants and a little sugar added to the other ingredients: they should be put in after the butter is rubbed in. These cakes should be buttered, and eaten hot as soon as baked; but, when stale, they are very nice split and toasted; or, if dipped in milk, or even water, and covered with a basin in the oven till hot, they will be almost equal to new. _Time_.--1/4 to 1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 10d. _Sufficient_ to make 8 tea-cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO TOAST TEA-CAKES. [Illustration: TEA-CAKES.] 1787. Cut each tea-cake into three or four slices, according to its thickness; toast them on both sides before a nice clear fire, and as each slice is done, spread it with butter on both sides. When a cake is toasted, pile the slices one on the top of the other, cut them into quarters, put them on a very hot plate, and send the cakes immediately to table. As they are wanted, send them in hot, one or two at a time, as, if allowed to stand, they spoil, unless kept in a muffin-plate over a basin of boiling water. A NICE YEAST-CAKE. 1788. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of flour, 1/2 lb. of butter, 1/2 pint of milk, 1-1/2 tablespoonful of good yeast, 3 eggs, 3/4 lb. of currants, 1/2 lb. of white moist sugar, 2 oz. of candied peel. _Mode_.--Put the milk and butter into a saucepan, and shake it round over a fire until the butter is melted, but do not allow the milk to get very hot. Put the flour into a basin, stir to it the milk and butter, the yeast, and eggs, which should be well beaten, and form the whole into a smooth dough. Let it stand in a warm place, covered with a cloth, to rise, and, when sufficiently risen, add the currants, sugar, and candied peel cut into thin slices. When all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed, line 2 moderate-sized cake-tins with buttered paper, which should be about six inches higher than the tin; pour in the mixture, let it stand to rise again for another 1/2 hour, and then bake the cakes in a brisk oven for about 1-1/2 hour. If the tops of them become too brown, cover them with paper until they are done through. A few drops of essence of lemon, or a little grated nutmeg, may be added when the flavour is liked. _Time_.--From 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hour. _Average cost_, 2s. _Sufficient_ to make 2 moderate-sized cakes. _Seasonable_ at any time. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXVI. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON BEVERAGES. 1789. Beverages are innumerable in their variety; but the ordinary beverages drunk in the British isles, may be divided into three classes:--1. Beverages of the simplest kind not fermented. 2. Beverages, consisting of water, containing a considerable quantity of carbonic acid. 3. Beverages composed partly of fermented liquors. Of the first class may be mentioned,--water, toast-and-water, barley-water, eau sucré, lait sucré, cheese and milk whey, milk-and-water, lemonade, orangeade, sherbet, apple and pear juice, capillaire, vinegar-and-water, raspberry vinegar and water. 1790. Of the common class of beverages, consisting of water impregnated with carbonic acid gas, we may name soda-water, single and double, ordinary effervescing draughts, and ginger-beer. 1791. The beverages composed partly of fermented liquors, are hot spiced wines, bishop, egg-flip, egg-hot, ale posset, sack posset, punch, and spirits-and-water. 1792. We will, however, forthwith treat on the most popular of our beverages, beginning with the one which makes "the cup that cheers but not inebriates." 1793. The beverage called tea has now become almost a necessary of life. Previous to the middle of the 17th century it was not used in England, and it was wholly unknown to the Greeks and Romans. Pepys says, in his Diary,--"September 25th, 1661.--I sent for a cup of tea (a China drink), of which I had never drunk before." Two years later it was so rare a commodity in England, that the English East-India Company bought 2 lbs. 2 oz. of it, as a present for his majesty. In 1666 it was sold in London for sixty shillings a pound. From that date the consumption has gone on increasing from 5,000 lbs. to 50,000,000 lbs. 1794. Linnaeus was induced to think that there were two species of tea-plant, one of which produced the black, and the other the green teas; but later observations do not confirm this. When the leaves of black and green tea are expanded by hot water, and examined by the botanist, though a difference of character is perceived, yet this is not sufficient to authorize considering them as distinct species. The tea-tree flourishes best in temperate regions; in China it is indigenous. The part of China where the best tea is cultivated, is called by us the "tea country." The cultivation of the plant requires great care. It is raised chiefly on the sides of hills; and, in order to increase the quantity and improve the quality of the leaves, the shrub is pruned, so as not to exceed the height of from two to three feet, much in the same manner as the vine is treated in France. They pluck the leaves, one selecting them according to the kinds of tea required; and, notwithstanding the tediousness of the operation, each labourer is able to gather from four to ten or fifteen pounds a day. When the trees attain to six or seven years of age, the produce becomes so inferior that they are removed to make room for a fresh succession, or they are cut down to allow of numerous young shoots. Teas of the finest flavour consist of the youngest leaves; and as these are gathered at four different periods of the year, the younger the leaves the higher flavoured the tea, and the scarcer, and consequently the dearer, the article. 1795. The various names by which teas are sold in the British market are corruptions of Chinese words. There are about a dozen different kinds; but the principal are Bohea, Congou, and Souchong, and signify, respectively, inferior, middling, and superior. Teas are often perfumed and flavoured with the leaves of different kinds of plants grown on purpose. Different tea-farms in China produce teas of various qualities, raised by skilful cultivation on various soils. 1796. Tea, when chemically analyzed, is found to contain woody fibre, mucilage, a considerable quantity of the astringent principle, or tannin, a narcotic principle, which is, perhaps, connected with a peculiar aroma. The tannin is shown by its striking a black colour with sulphate of iron, and is the cause of the dark stain which is always formed when tea is spilt upon buff-coloured cottons dyed with iron. A constituent called _Theine_ has also been discovered in tea, supposed to be identical with _Caffeine_, one of the constituents of coffee. Liebig says, "Theine yields, in certain processes of decomposition, a series of most remarkable products, which have much analogy with those derived from uric acid in similar circumstances. The infusion of tea differs from that of coffee, by containing iron and manganese. We have in tea, of many kinds, a beverage which contains the active constituents of the most powerful mineral springs, and, however small the amount of iron may be which we daily take in this form, it cannot be destitute of influence on the vital processes." 1797. Chinese tea has frequently been adulterated in this country, by the admixture of the dried leaves of certain plants. The leaves of the sloe, white thorn, ash, elder, and some others, have been employed for this purpose; such as the leaves of the speedwell, wild germander, black currants, syringa, purple-spiked willow-herb, sweet-brier, and cherry-tree. Some of these are harmless, others are to a certain degree poisonous; as, for example, are the leaves of all the varieties of the plum and cherry tribe, to which the sloe belongs. Adulteration by means of these leaves is by no means a new species of fraud; and several acts of parliament, from the time of George II., have been passed, specifying severe penalties against those guilty of the offence, which, notwithstanding numerous convictions, continues to the present time. 1798. In the purchase of tea, that should be chosen which possesses an agreeable odour and is as whole as possible, in order that the leaf may be easily examined. The greatest care should be taken that it has not been exposed to the air, which destroys its flavour. 1799. It would be impossible, in the space at our command, to enumerate the various modes adopted in different countries for "making coffee;" that is, the phrase commonly understood to mean the complete preparation of this delicious beverage for drinking. For performing this operation, such recipes or methods as we have found most practical will be inserted in their proper place; but the following facts connected with coffee will be found highly interesting. 1800. The introduction of coffee into this country is comparatively of recent date. We are assured by Bruce that the coffee-tree is a native of Abyssinia, and it is said to have been cultivated in that country from time immemorial. 1801. It appears that coffee was first introduced into England by Daniel Edwards, a Turkey merchant, whose servant, Pasqua, a Greek, understood the manner of roasting it. This servant, under the patronage of Edwards, established the first coffee-house in London, in George Yard, Lombard Street. Coffee was then sold at four or five guineas a pound, and a duty was soon afterwards laid upon it of fourpence a gallon, when made into a beverage. In the course of two centuries, however, this berry, unknown originally as an article of food, except to some savage tribes on the confines of Abyssinia, has made its way through the whole of the civilized world. Mahommedans of all ranks drink coffee twice a day; it is in universal request in France; and the demand for it throughout the British isles is daily increasing, the more especially since so much attention has been given to mechanical contrivances for roasting and grinding the berry and preparing the beverage. 1802. Of the various kinds of coffee the Arabian is considered the best. It is grown chiefly in the districts of Aden and Mocha; whence the name of our Mocha coffee. Mocha coffee has a smaller and rounder bean than any other, and likewise a more agreeable smell and taste. The next in reputation and quality is the Java and Ceylon coffee, and then the coffees of Bourbon and Martinique, and that of Berbice, a district of the colony of British Guiana. The Jamaica and St. Domingo coffees are less esteemed. 1803. A considerable change takes place in the arrangement of the constituents of coffee by the application of heat in roasting it. Independently of one of the objects of roasting, namely, that of destroying its toughness and rendering it easily ground, its tannin and other principles are rendered partly soluble in water; and it is to the tannin that the brown colour of the decoction of coffee is owing. An aromatic flavour is likewise developed during torrefaction, which is not perceived in the raw berry, and which is not produced in the greatest perfection until the heat has arrived at a certain degree of temperature; but, if the heat be increased beyond this, the flavour is again dissipated, and little remains but a bitter and astringent matter with carbon. 1804. The roasting of coffee in the best manner requires great nicety, and much of the qualities of the beverage depends upon the operation. The roasting of coffee for the dealers in London and Paris has now become a separate branch of business, and some of the roasters perform the operation on a great scale, with considerable skill. Roasted coffee loses from 20 to 30 per cent, by sufficient roasting, and the powder suffers much by exposure to the air; but, while raw, it not only does not lose its flavour for a year or two, but improves by keeping. If a cup of the best coffee be placed upon a table boiling hot, it will fill the room with its fragrance; but the coffee, when warmed again after being cold, will be found to have lost most of its flavour. 1805. To have coffee in perfection, it should be roasted and ground just before it is used, and more should not be ground at a time than is wanted for immediate use, or, if it be necessary to grind more, it should be kept closed from the air. Coffee readily imbibes exhalations from other substances, and thus often acquires a bad flavour: brown sugar placed near it will communicate a disagreeable flavour. It is stated that the coffee in the West Indies has often been injured by being laid in rooms near the sugar-works, or where rum is distilled; and the same effect has been produced by bringing over coffee in the same ships with rum and sugar. Dr. Moseley mentions that a few bags of pepper, on board a ship from India, spoiled a whole cargo of coffee. 1806. With respect to the quantity of coffee used in making the decoction, much depends upon the taste of the consumer. The greatest and most common fault in English coffee is the too small quantity of the ingredient. Count Rumford says that to make good coffee for drinking after dinner, a pound of good Mocha coffee, which, when roasted and ground, weighs only thirteen ounces, serves to make fifty-six full cups, or a little less than a quarter of an ounce to a coffee-cup of moderate size. RECIPES. CHAPTER XXXVII. TO MAKE CHOCOLATE. 1807. INGREDIENTS.--Allow 1/2 oz. of chocolate to each person; to every oz. allow 1/2 pint of water, 1/2 pint of milk. _Mode_.--Make the milk-and-water hot; scrape the chocolate into it, and stir the mixture constantly and quickly until the chocolate is dissolved; bring it to the boiling-point, stir it well, and serve directly with white sugar. Chocolate prepared with in a mill, as shown in the engraving, is made by putting in the scraped chocolate, pouring over it the boiling milk-and-water, and milling it over the fire until hot and frothy. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1/2 oz. of cake chocolate to each person. [Illustration: MILL.] CHOCOLATE AND COCOA.--Both these preparations are made from the seeds or beans of the cacao-tree, which grows in the West Indies and South America. The Spanish, and the proper name, is cacao, not cocoa, as it is generally spelt. From this mistake, the tree from which the beverage is procured has been often confounded with the palm that produces the edible cocoa-nuts, which are the produce of the cocoa-tree (_Cocos nucifera_), whereas the tree from which chocolate is procured is very different (the _Theobroma cacao_). The cocoa-tree was cultivated by the aboriginal inhabitants of South America, particularly in Mexico, where, according to Humboldt, it was reared by Montezuma. It was transplanted thence into other dependencies of the Spanish monarchy in 1520; and it was so highly esteemed by Linnaeus receive from him the name now conferred upon it, of Theobroma, a term derived from the Greek, and signifying "_food for gods_." Chocolate has always been a favourite beverage among the Spaniards and Creoles, and was considered here as a great luxury when first introduced, after the discovery of America; but the high duties laid upon it, confined it long almost entirely to the wealthier classes. Before it was subjected to duty, Mr. Bryan Edwards stated that cocoa plantations were numerous in Jamaica, but that the duty caused their almost entire ruin. The removal of this duty has increased their cultivation. (For engraving of cocoa-bean, _see_ No. 1816.) TO MAKE ESSENCE OF COFFEE. 1808. INGREDIENTS.--To every 1/4 lb. of ground coffee allow 1 small teaspoonful of powdered chicory, 3 small teacupfuls, or 1 pint, of water. _Mode_.--Let the coffee be freshly ground, and, if possible, freshly roasted; put it into a percolater, or filter, with the chicory, and pour _slowly_ over it the above proportion of boiling water. When it has all filtered through, warm the coffee sufficiently to bring it to the simmering-point, but do not allow it to boil; then filter it a second time, put it into a clean and dry bottle, cork it well, and it will remain good for several days. Two tablespoonfuls of this essence are quite sufficient for a breakfast-cupful of hot milk. This essence will be found particularly useful to those persons who have to rise extremely early; and having only the milk to make boiling, is very easily and quickly prepared. When the essence is bottled, pour another 3 tea-cupfuls of _boiling_ water slowly on the grounds, which, when filtered through, will be a very weak coffee. The next time there is essence to be prepared, make this weak coffee boiling, and pour it on the ground coffee instead of plain water: by this means a better coffee will be obtained. Never throw away the grounds without having made use of them in this manner; and always cork the bottle well that contains this preparation, until the day that it is wanted for making the fresh essence. _Time_.--To be filtered once, then brought to the boiling-point, and filtered again. _Average cost_, with coffee at 1s. 8d. per lb., 6d. _Sufficient'_-Allow 2 tablespoonfuls for a breakfast-cupful of hot milk. TO ROAST COFFEE. (_A French Recipe_.) 1809. It being an acknowledged fact that French coffee is decidedly superior to that made in England, and as the roasting of the berry is of great importance to the flavour of the preparation, it will be useful and interesting to know how they manage these things in France. In Paris, there are two houses justly celebrated for the flavour of their coffee,--_La Maison Corcellet_ and _La Maison Royer de Chartres_; and to obtain this flavour, before roasting they add to every 3 lbs. of coffee a piece of butter the size of a nut, and a dessert-spoonful of powdered sugar: it is then roasted in the usual manner. The addition of the butter and sugar develops the flavour and aroma of the berry; but it must be borne in mind, that the quality of the butter must be of the very best description. TO MAKE COFFEE. 1810. INGREDIENTS.--Allow 4 oz., or 1 tablespoonful, of ground coffee to each person; to every oz. of coffee allow 1/3 pint of water. _Mode_.--To make coffee good, _it should never be boiled_, but the boiling water merely poured on it, the same as for tea. The coffee should always be purchased in the berry,--if possible, freshly roasted; and it should never be ground long before it is wanted for use. There are very many new kinds of coffee-pots, but the method of making the coffee is nearly always the same; namely, pouring the boiling water on the powder, and allowing it to filter through. Our illustration shows one of Loysel's Hydrostatic Urns, which are admirably adapted for making good and clear coffee, which should be made in the following, manner:--Warm the urn with boiling water, remove the lid and movable filter, and place the ground coffee at the bottom of the urn. Put the movable filter over this, and screw the lid, inverted, tightly on the end of the centre pipe. Pour into the inverted lid the above proportion of boiling water, and when all the water so poured has disappeared from the funnel, and made its way down the centre pipe and up again through the ground coffee by _hydrostatic pressure_, unscrew screw the lid and cover the urn. Pour back direct into the urn, _not through the funnel_, one, two, or three cups, according to the size of the percolater, in order to make the infusion of uniform strength; the contents will then be ready for use, and should run from the tap strong, hot, and clear. The coffee made in these urns generally turns out very good, and there is but one objection to them,--the coffee runs rather slowly from the tap. This is of no consequence where there is a small party, but tedious where there are many persons to provide for. A remedy for this objection may be suggested; namely, to make the coffee very strong, so that not more than 1/3 of a cup would be required, as the rest would be filled up with milk. Making coffee in filters or percolaters does away with the necessity of using isinglass, white of egg, and various other preparations to clear it. Coffee should always be served very hot, and, if possible, in the same vessel in which it is made, as pouring it from one pot to another cools, and consequently spoils it. Many persons may think that the proportion of water we have given for each oz. of coffee is rather small; it is so, and the coffee produced from it will be very strong; 1/3 of a cup will be found quite sufficient, which should be filled with nice hot milk, or milk and cream mixed. This is the 'cafe au lait' for which our neighbours over the Channel are so justly celebrated. Should the ordinary method of making coffee be preferred, use double the quantity of water, and, in pouring it into the cups, put in more coffee and less milk. [Illustration: LOYSEL'S HYDROSTATIC URN.] _Sufficient_.--For very good coffee, allow 1/2 oz., or 1 tablespoonful, to each person. A VERY SIMPLE METHOD OF MAKING COFFEE. 1811. INGREDIENTS.--Allow 1/2 oz., or 1 tablespoonful, of coffee to each person; to every oz. allow 1 pint of water. _Mode_.--Have a small iron ring made to fit the top of the coffee-pot inside, and to this ring sew a small muslin bag (the muslin for the purpose must not be too thin). Fit the bag into the pot, pour some boiling water in it, and, when the pot is well warmed, put the ground coffee into the bag; pour over as much boiling water as is required, close the lid, and, when all the water has filtered through, remove the bag, and send the coffee to table. Making it in this manner prevents the necessity of pouring the coffee from one vessel to another, which cools and spoils it. The water should be poured on the coffee gradually, so that the infusion may be stronger; and the bag must be well made, that none of the grounds may escape through the seams, and so make the coffee thick and muddy. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 tablespoonful, or 1/2 oz., to each person. [Illustration: COFFEE.] THE COFFEE PLANT grows to the height of about twelve or fifteen feet, with leaves not unlike those of the common laurel, although more pointed, and not so dry and thick. The blossoms are white, much like those of jasmine, and issue from the angles of the leaf-stalks. When the flowers fade, they are succeeded by the coffee-bean, or seed, which is inclosed in a berry of a red colour, when ripe resembling a cherry. The coffee-beans are prepared by exposing them to the sun for a few days, that the pulp may ferment and throw off a strong acidulous moisture. They are then gradually dried for about three weeks, and put into a mill to separate the husk from the seed. CAFE AU LAIT. 1812. This is merely very strong coffee added to a large proportion of good hot milk; about 6 tablespoonfuls of strong coffee being quite sufficient for a breakfast-cupful of milk. Of the essence No. 1808, which answers admirably for 'cafe an lait', so much would not be required. This preparation is infinitely superior to the weak watery coffee so often served at English tables. A little cream mixed with the milk, if the latter cannot be depended on for richness, improves the taste of the coffee, as also the richness of the beverage. _Sufficient_.--6 tablespoonfuls of strong coffee, or 2 tablespoonfuls of the essence, to a breakfast-cupful of milk. TEA AND COFFEE.--It is true, says Liebig, that thousands have lived without a knowledge of tea and coffee; and daily experience teaches us that, under certain circumstances, they may be dispensed with without disadvantage to the merely animal functions; but it is an error, certainly, to conclude from this that they may be altogether dispensed with in reference to their effects; and it is a question whether, if we had no tea and no coffee, the popular instinct would not seek for and discover the means of replacing them. Science, which accuses us of so much in these respects, will have, in the first place, to ascertain whether it depends on sensual and sinful inclinations merely, that every people of the globe have appropriated some such means of acting on the nervous life, from the shore of the Pacific, where the Indian retires from life for days in order to enjoy the bliss of intoxication with koko, to the Arctic regions, where Kamtschatdales and Koriakes prepare an intoxicating beverage from a poisonous mushroom. We think it, on the contrary, highly probable, not to say certain, that the instinct of man, feeling certain blanks, certain wants of the intensified life of our times, which cannot be satisfied or filled up by mere quantity, has discovered, in these products of vegetable life the true means of giving to his food the desired and necessary quality. CAFE NOIR. 1813. This is usually handed round after dinner, and should be drunk well sweetened, with the addition of a little brandy or liqueurs, which may be added or not at pleasure. The coffee should be made very strong, and served in very small cups, but never mixed with milk or cream. Cafe noir may be made of the essence of coffee No. 1808, by pouring a tablespoonful into each cup, and filling it up with boiling water. This is a very simple and expeditious manner of preparing coffee for a large party, but the essence for it must be made very good, and kept well corked until required for use. TO MAKE TEA. 1814. There is very little art in making good tea; if the water is boiling, and there is no sparing of the fragrant leaf, the beverage will almost invariably be good. The old-fashioned plan of allowing a teaspoonful to each person, and one over, is still practised. Warm the teapot with boiling water; let it remain for two or three minutes for the vessel to become thoroughly hot, then pour it away. Put in the tea, pour in from 1/2 to 3/4 pint of boiling water, close the lid, and let it stand for the tea to draw from 5 to 10 minutes; then fill up the pot with water. The tea will be quite spoiled unless made with water that is actually 'boiling', as the leaves will not open, and the flavour not be extracted from them; the beverage will consequently be colourless and tasteless,--in fact, nothing but tepid water. Where there is a very large party to make tea for, it is a good plan to have two teapots instead of putting a large quantity of tea into one pot; the tea, besides, will go farther. When the infusion has been once completed, the addition of fresh tea adds very little to the strength; so, when more is required, have the pot emptied of the old leaves, scalded, and fresh tea made in the usual manner. Economists say that a few grains of carbonate of soda, added before the boiling water is poured on the tea, assist to draw out the goodness: if the water is very hard, perhaps it is a good plan, as the soda softens it; but care must be taken to use this ingredient sparingly, as it is liable to give the tea a soapy taste if added in too large a quantity. For mixed tea, the usual proportion is four spoonfuls of black to one of green; more of the latter when the flavour is very much liked; but strong green tea is highly pernicious, and should never be partaken of too freely. _Time_.--2 minutes to warm the teapot, 5 to 10 minutes to draw the strength from the tea. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 teaspoonful to each person, and one over. TEA.--The tea-tree or shrub belongs to the class and order of Monadelphia polyandria in the Linnaean system, and to the natural order of Aurantiaceae in the system of Jussieu. Lately it has been made into a new order, the Theasia, which includes the Camellia and some other plants. It commonly grows to the height of from three to six feet; but it is said, that, in its wild or native state, it reaches twenty feet or more. In China it is cultivated in numerous small plantations. In its general appearance, and the form of its leaf, it resembles the myrtle. The blossoms are white and fragrant, not unlike those of the wild rose, but smaller; and they are succeeded by soft green capsules, containing each from one to three white seeds. These capsules are crushed for oil, which is in general use in China. [Illustration: TEA.] AN EXCELLENT SUBSTITUTE FOR MILK OR CREAM IN TEA OR COFFEE. 1815. INGREDIENTS.--Allow 1 new-laid egg to every large breakfast-cupful of tea or coffee. _Mode_.--Beat up the whole of the egg in a basin, put it into a cup (or a portion of it, if the cup be small), and pour over it the tea or coffee very hot. These should be added very gradually, and stirred all the time, to prevent the egg from curdling. In point of nourishment, both these beverages are much improved by this addition. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 egg to every large breakfast-cupful of tea or coffee. TO MAKE COCOA. 1816. INGREDIENTS.--Allow 2 teaspoonfuls of the prepared cocoa to 1 breakfast-cup; boiling milk and boiling water. [Illustration: COCOA-BEAN.] _Mode_.--Put the cocoa into a breakfast-cup, pour over it sufficient cold milk to make it into a smooth paste; then add equal quantities of boiling milk and boiling water, and stir all well together. Care must be taken not to allow the milk to get burnt, as it will entirely spoil the flavour of the preparation. The above directions are usually given for making the prepared cocoa. The rock cocoa, or that bought in a solid piece, should be scraped, and made in the same manner, taking care to rub down all the lumps before the boiling liquid is added. _Sufficient_--2 teaspoonfuls of prepared cocoa for 1 breakfast-cup, or 1/4 oz. of the rock cocoa for the same quantity. COWSLIP WINE. 1817. INGREDIENTS.--To every gallon of water allow 3 lbs. of lump sugar, the rind of 2 lemons, the juice of 1, the rind and juice of 1 Seville orange, 1 gallon of cowslip pips. To every 4-1/2 gallons of wine allow 1 bottle of brandy. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water together for 1/2 hour, carefully removing all the scum as it rises. Pour this boiling liquor on the orange and lemon-rinds, and the juice, which should be strained; when milk-warm, add the cowslip pips or flowers, picked from the stalks and seeds; and to 9 gallons of wine 3 tablespoonfuls of good fresh brewers' yeast. Let it ferment 3 or 4 days; then put all together in a cask with the brandy, and let it remain for 2 months, when bottle it off for use. _Time_.--To be boiled 1/2 hour; to ferment 3 or 4 days; to remain in the cask 2 months. _Average cost_, exclusive of the cowslips, which may be picked in the fields, 2s. 9d. per gallon. _Seasonable_.--Make this in April or May. ELDER WINE. 1818. INGREDIENTS.--To every 3 gallons of water allow 1 peck of elderberries; to every gallon of juice allow 3 lbs. of sugar, 1/2 oz. of ground ginger, 6 cloves, 1 lb. of good Turkey raisins; 1/2 pint of brandy to every gallon of wine. To every 9 gallons of wine 3 or 4 tablespoonfuls of fresh brewer's yeast. _Mode_.--Pour the water, quite boiling, on the elderberries, which should be picked from the stalks, and let these stand covered for 24 hours; then strain the whole through a sieve or bag, breaking the fruit to express all the juice from it. Measure the liquor, and to every gallon allow the above proportion of sugar. Boil the juice and sugar with the ginger, cloves, and raisins for 1 hour, skimming the liquor the whole time; let it stand until milk-warm, then put it into a clean dry cask, with 3 or 4 tablespoonfuls of good fresh yeast to every 9 gallons of wine. Let it ferment for about a fortnight; then add the brandy, bung up the cask, and let it stand some months before it is bottled, when it will be found excellent. A bunch of hops suspended to a string from the bung, some persons say, will preserve the wine good for several years. Elder wine is usually mulled, and served with sippets of toasted bread and a little grated nutmeg. _Time_.--To stand covered 24 hours; to be boiled 1 hour. _Average cost_, when made at home, 3s. 6d. per gallon. _Seasonable_.--Make this in September. [Illustration: ELDER-BERRIES.] ELDER-BERRY WINE.--The elder-berry is well adapted for the production of wine; its juice contains a considerable portion of the principle necessary for a vigorous fermentation, and its beautiful colour communicates a rich tint to the wine made from it. It is, however, deficient in sweetness, and therefore demands an addition of sugar. It is one of the very best of the genuine old English wines; and a cup of it mulled, just previous to retiring to bed on a winter night, is a thing to be "run for," as Cobbett would say: it is not, however, agreeable to every taste. GINGER WINE. 1819. INGREDIENTS.--To 9 gallons of water allow 27 lbs. of loaf sugar, 9 lemons, 12 oz. of bruised ginger, 3 tablespoonfuls of yeast, 2 lbs. of raisins stoned and chopped, 1 pint of brandy. _Mode_.--Boil together for 1 hour in a copper (let it previously be well scoured and beautifully clean) the water, sugar, _lemon-rinds_, and bruised ginger; remove every particle of scum as it rises, and when the liquor is sufficiently boiled, put it into a large tub or pan, as it must not remain in the copper. When nearly cold, add the yeast, which must be thick and very fresh, and, the next day, put all in a dry cask with the strained lemon-juice and chopped raisins. Stir the wine every day for a fortnight; then add the brandy, stop the cask down by degrees, and in a few weeks it will be fit to bottle. _Average cost_, 2s. per gallon. _Sufficient_ to make 9 gallons of wine. _Seasonable_.--The best time for making this wine is either in March or September. _Note_.--Wine made early in March will be fit to bottle in June. GOOSEBERRY VINEGAR. (_An Excellent Recipe_.) 1820. INGREDIENTS.--2 pecks of crystal gooseberries, 6 gallons of water, 12 lbs. of foots sugar of the coarsest brown quality. _Mode_.--Mash the gooseberries (which should be quite ripe) in a tub with a mallet; put to them the water nearly milk-warm; let this stand 24 hours; then strain it through a sieve, and put the sugar to it; mix it well, and tun it. These proportions are for a 9-gallon cask; and if it be not quite full, more water must be added. Let the mixture be stirred from the bottom of the cask two or three times daily for three or four days, to assist the melting of the sugar; then paste a piece of linen cloth over the bunghole, and set the cask in a warm place, _but not in the sun_; any corner of a warm kitchen is the best situation for it. The following spring it should be drawn off into stone bottles, and the vinegar will be fit for use twelve months after it is made. This will be found a most excellent preparation, greatly superior to much that is sold under the name of the best white wine vinegar. Many years' experience has proved that pickle made with this vinegar will keep, when bought vinegar will not preserve the ingredients. The cost per gallon is merely nominal, especially to those who reside in the country and grow their own gooseberries; the coarse sugar is then the only ingredient to be purchased. _Time_.--To remain in the cask 9 months. _Average cost_, when the gooseberries have to be purchased, 1s. per gallon; when they are grown at home, 6d. per gallon. _Seasonable_.--This should be made the end of June or the beginning of July, when gooseberries are ripe and plentiful. EFFERVESCING GOOSEBERRY WINE. 1821. INGREDIENTS.--To every gallon of water allow 6 lbs. of green gooseberries, 3 lbs. of lump sugar. _Mode_.--This wine should be prepared from unripe gooseberries, in order to avoid the flavour which the fruit would give to the wine when in a mature state. Its briskness depends more upon the time of bottling than upon the unripe state of the fruit, for effervescing wine can be made from fruit that is ripe as well as that which is unripe. The fruit should be selected when it has nearly attained its full growth, and consequently before it shows any tendency to ripen. Any bruised or decayed berries, and those that are very small, should be rejected. The blossom and stalk ends should be removed, and the fruit well bruised in a tub or pan, in such quantities as to insure each berry being broken without crushing the seeds. Pour the water (which should be warm) on the fruit, squeeze and stir it with the hand until all the pulp is removed from the skin and seeds, and cover the whole closely for 24 hours; after which, strain it through a coarse bag, and press it with as much force as can be conveniently applied, to extract the whole of the juice and liquor the fruit may contain. To every 40 or 50 lbs. of fruit one gallon more of hot water may be passed through the marc, or husks, in order to obtain any soluble matter that may remain, and be again pressed. The juice should be put into a tub or pan of sufficient size to contain all of it, and the sugar added to it. Let it be well stirred until the sugar is dissolved, and place the pan in a warm situation; keep it closely covered, and let it ferment for a day or two. It must then be drawn off into clean casks, placed a little on one side for the scum that arises to be thrown out, and the casks kept filled with the remaining "must," that should be reserved for that purpose. When the active fermentation has ceased, the casks should be plugged upright, again filled, if necessary, the bungs be put in loosely, and, after a few days, when the fermentation is a little more languid (which may be known, by the hissing noise ceasing), the bungs should be driven in tight, and a spile-hole made, to give vent if necessary. About November or December, on a clear fine day, the wine should he racked from its lees into clean casks, which may be rinsed with brandy. After a month, it should be examined to see if it is sufficiently clear for bottling; if not, it must be fined with isinglass, which may be dissolved in some of the wine: 1 oz. will be sufficient for 9 gallons. In March or April, or when the gooseberry bushes begin to blossom, the wine must be bottled, in order to insure its being effervescing. _Seasonable_.--Make this the end of May or beginning of June, before the berries ripen. LEMON SYRUP. 1822. INGREDIENTS.--2 lbs. of loaf sugar, 2 pints of water, 1 oz. of citric acid, 12 drachm of essence of lemon. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water together for 1/4 hour, and put it into a basin, where let it remain till cold. Beat the citric acid to a powder, mix the essence of lemon with it, then add these two ingredients to the syrup; mix well, and bottle for use. Two tablespoonfuls of the syrup are sufficient for a tumbler of cold water, and will be found a very refreshing summer drink. _Sufficient_--2 tablespoonfuls of syrup to a tumbler-ful of cold water. LEMON WINE. 1823. INGREDIENTS.--To 4-1/2 gallons of water allow the pulp of 50 lemons, the rind of 25, 16 lbs. of loaf sugar,--1/2 oz. of isinglass, 1 bottle of brandy. _Mode_.--Peel and slice the lemons, but use only the rind of 25 of them, and put them into the cold water. Let it stand 8 or 9 days, squeezing the lemons well every day; then strain the water off and put it into a cask with the sugar. Let it work some time, and when it has ceased working, put in the isinglass. Stop the cask down; in about six months put in the brandy and bottle the wine off. _Seasonable_.--The best time to make this is in January or February, when lemons are best and cheapest. MALT WINE. 1824. INGREDIENTS.--5 gallons of water, 28 lbs. of sugar, 6 quarts of sweet-wort, 6 quarts of tun, 3 lbs. of raisins, 1/2 lb. of candy, 1 pint of brandy. _Mode_.--Boil the sugar and water together for 10 minutes; skim it well, and put the liquor into a convenient-sized pan or tub. Allow it to cool; then mix it with the sweet-wort and tun. Let it stand for 3 days, then put it into a barrel; here it will work or ferment for another three days or more; then bung up the cask, and keep it undisturbed for 2 or 3 months. After this, add the raisins (whole), the candy, and brandy, and, in 6 months' time, bottle the wine off. Those who do not brew, may procure the sweet-wort and tun from any brewer. Sweet-wort is the liquor that leaves the mash of malt before it is boiled with the hops; tun is the new beer after the whole of the brewing operation has been completed. _Time_.--To be boiled 10 minutes; to stand 3 days after mixing; to ferment 3 days; to remain in the cask 2 mouths before the raisins are added; bottle 6 months after. _Seasonable_.--Make this in March or October. HOME-MADE NOYEAU. 1825. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of bitter almonds, 1 oz. of sweet ditto, 1 lb. of loaf sugar, the rinds of 3 lemons, 1 quart of Irish whiskey or gin, 1 tablespoonful of clarified honey, 4 pint of new milk. _Mode_.--Blanch and pound the almonds, and mix with them the sugar, which should also be pounded. Boil the milk; let it stand till quite cold; then mix all the ingredients together, and let them remain for 10 days, shaking them every day. Filter the mixture through blotting-paper, bottle off for use in small bottles, and seal the corks down. This will be found useful for flavouring many sweet dishes. _Average cost_, 2s. 9d. _Sufficient_ to make about 24 pints of Noyeau. _Seasonable_.--May be made at any time. ORANGE BRANDY. (_Excellent_.) 1826. INGREDIENTS.--To every 1 gallon of brandy allow 3/4 pint of Seville orange-juice, 1-1/4 lb. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--To bring out the full flavour of the orange-peel, rub a few lumps of the sugar on 2 or 3 unpared oranges, and put these lumps to the rest. Mix the brandy with the orange-juice, strained, the rinds of 6 of the oranges pared very thin, and the sugar. Let all stand in a closely-covered jar for about 3 days, stirring it 3 or 4 times a day. When clear, it should be bottled and closely corked for a year; it will then be ready for use, but will keep any length of time. This is a most excellent stomachic when taken pure in small quantities; or, as the strength of the brandy is very little deteriorated by the other ingredients, it may be diluted with water. _Time_.--To be stirred every day for 3 days. _Average cost_, 7s. _Sufficient_ to make 2 quarts. _Seasonable_.--Make this in March. A VERY SIMPLE AND EASY METHOD OF MAKING A VERY SUPERIOR ORANGE WINE. 1827. INGREDIENTS.--90 Seville oranges, 32 lbs. of lump sugar, water. _Mode_.--Break up the sugar into small pieces, and put it into a dry, sweet 9-gallon cask, placed in a cellar or other storehouse, where it is intended to be kept. Have ready close to the cask two large pans or wooden keelers, into one of which put the peel of the oranges pared quite thin, and into the other the pulp after the juice has been squeezed from it. Strain the juice through a piece of double muslin, and put it into the cask with the sugar. Then pour about 1-1/2 gallon of cold spring water on both the peels and pulp; let it stand for 24 hours, and then strain it into the cask; add more water to the peels and pulp when this is done, and repeat the same process every day for a week: it should take about a week to fill up the cask. Be careful to apportion the quantity as nearly as possible to the seven days, and to stir the contents of the cask each day. On the ''third' day after the cask is full,--that is, the 'tenth' day after the commencement of making,--the cask may be securely bunged down. This is a very simple and easy method, and the wine made according to it will be pronounced to be most excellent. There is no troublesome boiling, and all fermentation takes place in the cask. When the above directions are attended to, the wine cannot fail to be good. It should be bottled in 8 or 9 months, and will be fit for use in a twelve month after the time of making. Ginger wine may be made in precisely the same manner, only, with the 9-gallon cask for ginger wine, 2 lbs. of the best whole ginger, 'bruised', must be put with the sugar. It will be found convenient to tie the ginger loosely in a muslin bag. _Time_.--Altogether, 10 days to make it. _Average cost_, 2s. 6d. per gallon. _Sufficient_ for 9 gallons. _Seasonable_.--Make this in March, and bottle it the following January. RASPBERRY VINEGAR. 1828. INGREDIENTS.--To every 3 pints of the best vinegar allow 4-1/2 pints of freshly-gathered raspberries; to each pint of liquor allow 1 lb. of pounded loaf sugar, 1 wineglassful of brandy. _Mode_.--Let the raspberries be freshly gathered; pick them from the stalks, and put 1-1/2 pint of them into a stone jar; pour 3 pints of the best vinegar over them, and let them remain for 24 hours; then strain the liquor over another 1-1/2 pint of fresh raspberries. Let them remain another 24 hours, and the following day repeat the process for the third time; then drain off the liquor without pressing, and pass it through a jelly-bag (previously wetted with plain vinegar), into a stone jar. Add to every pint of the liquor 1 lb. of pounded loaf sugar; stir them together, and, when the sugar is dissolved, cover the jar; set it upon the fire in a saucepan of boiling water, and let it boil for an hour, removing the scum as fast as it rises; add to each pint a glass of brandy, bottle it, and seal the corks. This is an excellent drink in cases of fevers and colds: it should be diluted with cold water, according to the taste or requirement of the patient. _Time_.--To be boiled 1 hour. Average cost, 1s. per pint. _Sufficient_ to make 2 quarts. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July or August, when raspberries are most plentiful. RHUBARB WINE. 1829. INGREDIENTS.--To every 5 lbs. of rhubarb pulp allow 1 gallon of cold spring water; to every gallon of liquor allow 3 lbs. of loaf sugar, 1/2 oz. of isinglass, the rind of 1 lemon. _Mode_.--Gather the rhubarb about the middle of May; wipe it with a wet cloth, and, with a mallet, bruise it in a large wooden tub or other convenient means. When reduced to a pulp, weigh it, and to every 5 lbs. add 1 gallon of cold spring water; let these remain for 3 days, stirring 3 or 4 times a day; and, on the fourth day, press the pulp through a hair sieve; put the liquor into a tub, and to every gallon put 3 lbs. of loaf sugar; stir in the sugar until it is quite dissolved, and add the lemon-rind; let the liquor remain, and, in 4, 5, or 6 days, the fermentation will begin to subside, and a crust or head will be formed, which should be skimmed off, or the liquor drawn from it, when the crust begins to crack or separate. Put the wine into a cask, and if, after that, it ferments, rack it off into another cask, and in a fortnight stop it down. If the wine should have lost any of its original sweetness, add a little more loaf sugar, taking care that the cask is full. Bottle it off in February or March, and in the summer it should be fit to drink. It will improve greatly by keeping; and, should a very brilliant colour be desired, add a little currant-juice. _Seasonable_.--Make this about the middle of May. WELSH NECTAR. 1830. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of raisins, 3 lemons, 2 lbs. of loaf sugar, 2 gallons of boiling water. _Mode_.--Cut the peel of the lemons very thin, pour upon it the boiling water, and, when cool, add the strained juice of the lemons, the sugar, and the raisins, stoned and chopped very fine. Let it stand 4 or 5 days, stirring it every day; then strain it through a jelly-bag, and bottle it for present use. _Time_.--4 or 5 days. _Average cost_, 1s. 9d. _Sufficient_ to make 2 gallons. CLARET-CUP. [Illustration: CLARET CUP.] 1831. INGREDIENTS.--1 bottle of claret, 1 bottle of soda-water, about 1/2 lb. of pounded ice, 4 tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar, 1/4 teaspoonful of grated nutmeg, 1 liqueur-glass of Maraschino, a sprig of green borage. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a silver cup, regulating the proportion of ice by the state of the weather: if very warm, a larger quantity would be necessary. Hand the cup round with a clean napkin passed through one of the handles, that the edge of the cup may be wiped after each guest has partaken of the contents thereof. _Seasonable_ in summer. CLARETS.--All those wines called in England clarets are the produce of the country round Bordeaux, or the Bordelais; but it is remarkable that there is no pure wine in France known by the name of claret, which is a corruption of _clairet_, a term that is applied there to any red or rose-coloured wine. Round Bordeaux are produced a number of wines of the first quality, which pass under the name simply of _vins de Bordeaux_, or have the designation of the particular district where they are made; as Lafitte, Latour, &c. The clarets brought to the English market are frequently prepared for it by the wine-growers by mixing together several Bordeaux wines, or by adding to them a portion of some other wines; but in France the pure wines are carefully preserved distinct. The genuine wines of Bordeaux are of great variety, that part being one of the most distinguished in France; and the principal vineyards are those of Medoc, Palus, Graves, and Blanche, the product of each having characters considerably different. CHAMPAGNE-CUP. 1832. INGREDIENTS.--1 quart bottle of champagne, 2 bottles of soda-water, 1 liqueur-glass of brandy or Curaçoa, 2 tablespoonfuls of powdered sugar, 1 lb. of pounded ice, a sprig of green borage. _Mode_.--Put all the ingredients into a silver cup; stir them together, and serve the same as claret-cup No. 1831. Should the above proportion of sugar not be found sufficient to suit some tastes, increase the quantity. When borage is not easily obtainable, substitute for it a few slices of cucumber-rind. _Seasonable_.--Suitable for pic-nics, balls, weddings, and other festive occasions. CHAMPAGNE.--This, the most celebrated of French wines, is the produce chiefly of the province of that name, and is generally understood in England to be a brisk, effervescing, or sparkling white wine, of a very fine flavour; but this is only one of the varieties of this class. There is both red and white champagne, and each of these may be either still or brisk. There are the sparkling wines (mousseux), and the still wines (non-mousseux). The brisk are in general the most highly esteemed, or, at least, are the most popular in this country, on account of their delicate flavour and the agreeable pungency which they derive from the carbonic acid they contain, and to which they owe their briskness. GINGER BEER. 1833. INGREDIENTS.--2-1/2 lbs. of loaf sugar, 1-1/2 oz. of bruised ginger, 1 oz. of cream of tartar, the rind and juice of 2 lemons, 3 gallons of boiling water, 2 large tablespoonfuls of thick and fresh brewer's yeast. _Mode_.--Peel the lemons, squeeze the juice, strain it, and put the peel and juice into a large earthen pan, with the bruised ginger, cream of tartar, and loaf sugar. Pour over these ingredients 3 gallons of boiling water; let it stand until just warm, when add the yeast, which should be thick and perfectly fresh. Stir the contents of the pan well, and let them remain near the fire all night, covering the pan over with a cloth. The next day skim off the yeast, and pour the liquor carefully into another vessel, leaving the sediment; then bottle immediately, and tie the corks down, and in 3 days the ginger beer will be fit for use. For some tastes, the above proportion of sugar may be found rather too large, when it may be diminished; but the beer will not keep so long good. _Average cost_ for this quantity, 2s.; or 1/2d. per bottle. _Sufficient_ to fill 4 dozen ginger-beer bottles. _Seasonable_.--This should be made during the summer months. LEMONADE. 1834. INGREDIENTS--The rind of 2 lemons, the juice of 3 large or 4 small ones, 1 lb. of loaf sugar, 1 quart of boiling water. _Mode_.--Rub some of the sugar, in lumps, on 2 of the lemons until they have imbibed all the oil from them, and put it with the remainder of the sugar into a jug; add the lemon-juice (but no pips), and pour over the whole a quart of boiling water. When the sugar is dissolved, strain the lemonade through a fine sieve or piece of muslin, and, when cool, it will be ready for use. The lemonade will be much improved by having the white of an egg beaten up in it; a little sherry mixed with it, also, makes this beverage much nicer. _Average cost_, 6d. per quart. LEMONADE--"There is a current opinion among women" says Brillat Savarin "which every year causes the death of many young women,--that acids, especially vinegar, are preventives of obesity. Beyond all doubt, acids have the effect of destroying obesity; but they also destroy health and freshness. Lemonade is, of all acids, the most harmless; but few stomachs can resist it long. I knew, in 1776, at Dijon, a young lady of great beauty, to whom I was attached by bonds of friendship, great, almost as those of love. One day, when she had for some time gradually grown pale and thin (previously she had a slight embonpoint), she told me in confidence, that as her young friends had ridiculed her for being fat, she had, to counteract the tendency, been in the habit every day of drinking a large glass of vinaigre. She died at eighteen years of age, from the effects of these potions." TO MAKE NEGUS. 1835. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of port wine allow 1 quart of boiling water, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 1 lemon, grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--As this beverage is more usually drunk at children's parties than at any other, the wine need not be very old or expensive for the purpose, a new fruity wine answering very well for it. Put the wine into a jug, rub some lumps of sugar (equal to 1/4 lb.) on the lemon-rind until all the yellow part of the skin is absorbed, then squeeze the juice, and strain it. Add the sugar and lemon-juice to the port wine, with the grated nutmeg; pour over it the boiling water, cover the jug, and, when the beverage has cooled a little, it will be fit for use. Negus may also be made of sherry, or any other sweet white wine, but is more usually made of port than of any other beverage. _Sufficient_--Allow 1 pint of wine, with the other ingredients in proportion, for a party of 9 or 10 children. A PLEASANT DRINK FOR WARM WEATHER. 1836. INGREDIENTS.--To every 1-1/2 pint of good ale allow 1 bottle of ginger beer. _Mode_.--For this beverage the ginger beer must be in an effervescing state, and the beer not in the least turned or sour. Mix them together, and drink immediately. The draught is refreshing and wholesome, as the ginger corrects the action of the beer. It does not deteriorate by standing a little, but, of course, is better when taken fresh. FOR A SUMMER DRAUGHT. 1837. INGREDIENTS.--The juice of 1 lemon, a tumbler-ful of cold water, pounded sugar to taste, 4 small teaspoonful of carbonate of soda. _Mode_.--Squeeze the juice from the lemon; strain, and add it to the water, with sufficient pounded sugar to sweeten the whole nicely. When well mixed, put in the soda, stir well, and drink while the mixture is in an effervescing state. TO MULL WINE. 1838. INGREDIENTS.--To every pint of wine allow 1 large cupful of water, sugar and spice to taste. _Mode_.--In making preparations like the above, it is very difficult to give the exact proportions of ingredients like sugar and spice, as what quantity might suit one person would be to another quite distasteful. Boil the spice in the water until the flavour is extracted, then add the wine and sugar, and bring the whole to the boiling-point, when serve with strips of crisp dry toast, or with biscuits. The spices usually used for mulled wine are cloves, grated nutmeg, and cinnamon or mace. Any kind of wine may be mulled, but port and claret are those usually selected for the purpose; and the latter requires a very large proportion of sugar. The vessel that the wine is boiled in must be delicately clean, and should be kept exclusively for the purpose. Small tin warmers may be purchased for a trifle, which are more suitable than saucepans, as, if the latter are not scrupulously clean, they will spoil the wine, by imparting to it a very disagreeable flavour. These warmers should be used for no other purposes. TO MAKE HOT PUNCH. 1839. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of rum, 1/2 pint of brandy, 1/4 lb. of sugar, 1 large lemon, 1/2 teaspoonful of nutmeg, 1 pint of boiling water. [Illustration: PUNCH-BOWL AND LADLE.] _Mode_.--Rub the sugar over the lemon until it has absorbed all the yellow part of the skin, then put the sugar into a punchbowl; add the lemon-juice (free from pips), and mix these two ingredients well together. Pour over them the boiling water, stir well together, add the rum, brandy, and nutmeg; mix thoroughly, and the punch will be ready to serve. It is very important in making good punch that all the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated; and, to insure success, the processes of mixing must be diligently attended to. _Sufficient_.--Allow a quart for 4 persons; but this information must be taken _cum grano salis_; for the capacities of persons for this kind of beverage are generally supposed to vary considerably. PUNCH is a beverage made of various spirituous liquors or wine, hot water, the acid juice of fruits, and sugar. It is considered to be very intoxicating; but this is probably because the spirit, being partly sheathed by the mucilaginous juice and the sugar, its strength does not appear to the taste so great as it really is. Punch, which was almost universally drunk among the middle classes about fifty or sixty years ago, has almost disappeared from our domestic tables, being superseded by wine. There are many different varieties of punch. It is sometimes kept cold in bottles, and makes a most agreeable summer drink. In Scotland, instead of the Madeira or sherry generally used in its manufacture, whiskey is substituted, and then its insidious properties are more than usually felt. Where fresh lemons cannot be had for punch or similar beverages, crystallized citric acid and a few drops of the essence of lemon will be very nearly the same thing. In the composition of "Regent's punch," champagne, brandy, and _veritable Martinique_ are required; "Norfolk punch" requires Seville oranges; "Milk punch" may be extemporized by adding a little hot milk to lemonade, and then straining it through a jelly-bag. Then there are "Wine punch," "Tea punch," and "French punch," made with lemons, spirits, and wine, in fantastic proportions. But of all the compounds of these materials, perhaps, for a _summer_ drink, the North-American "mint julep" is the most inviting. Captain Marryat gives the following recipe for its preparation:--"Put into a tumbler about a dozen sprigs of the tender shoots of mint; upon them put a spoonful of white sugar, and equal proportions of peach and common brandy, so as to fill up one third, or, perhaps, a little less; then take rasped or pounded ice, and fill up the tumbler. Epicures rub the lips of the tumbler with a piece of fresh pineapple; and the tumbler itself is very often encrusted outside with stalactites of ice. As the ice melts, you drink." The Virginians, say Captain Marryat, claim the merit of having invented this superb compound; but, from a passage in the "Comus" of Milton, he claims it for his own country. WHISKEY CORDIAL. 1840. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of ripe white currants, the rind of 2 lemons, 1/4 oz. of grated ginger, 1 quart of whiskey, 1 lb. of lump sugar. _Mode_.--Strip the currants from the stalks; put them into a large jug; add the lemon-rind, ginger, and whiskey; cover the jug closely, and let it remain covered for 24 hours. Strain through a hair sieve, add the lump sugar, and let it stand 12 hours longer; then bottle, and cork well. _Time_.--To stand 24 hours before being strained; 12 hours after the sugar is added. _Seasonable_.--Make this in July. [Illustration] INVALID COOKERY. CHAPTER XXXVIII. A FEW RULES TO BE OBSERVED IN COOKING FOR INVALIDS. 1841. LET all the kitchen utensils used in the preparation of invalids' cookery be delicately and 'scrupulously clean;' if this is not the case, a disagreeable flavour may be imparted to the preparation, which flavour may disgust, and prevent the patient from partaking of the refreshment when brought to him or her. 1842. For invalids, never make a large quantity of one thing, as they seldom require much at a time; and it is desirable that variety be provided for them. 1843. Always have something in readiness; a little beef tea, nicely made and nicely skimmed, a few spoonfuls of jelly, &c. &c., that it may be administered as soon almost as the invalid wishes for it. If obliged to wait a long time, the patient loses the desire to eat, and often turns against the food when brought to him or her. 1844. In sending dishes or preparations up to invalids, let everything look as tempting as possible. Have a clean tray-cloth laid smoothly over the tray; let the spoons, tumblers, cups and saucers, &c., be very clean and bright. Gruel served in a tumbler is more appetizing than when served in a basin or cup and saucer. 1845. As milk is an important article of food for the sick, in warm weather let it be kept on ice, to prevent its turning sour. Many other delicacies may also be preserved good in the same manner for some little time. 1846. If the patient be allowed to eat vegetables, never send them up undercooked, or half raw; and let a small quantity only be temptingly arranged on a dish. This rule will apply to every preparation, as an invalid is much more likely to enjoy his food if small delicate pieces are served to him. 1847. Never leave food about a sick room; if the patient cannot eat it when brought to him, take it away, and bring it to him in an hour or two's time. Miss Nightingale says, "To leave the patient's untasted food by his side, from meal to meal, in hopes that he will eat it in the interval, is simply to prevent him from taking any food at all." She says, "I have known patients literally incapacitated from taking one article of food after another by this piece of ignorance. Let the food come at the right time, and be taken away, eaten or uneaten, at the right time, but never let a patient have 'something always standing' by him, if you don't wish to disgust him of everything." 1848. Never serve beef tea or broth with the _smallest particle_ of fat or grease on the surface. It is better, after making either of these, to allow them to get perfectly cold, when _all the fat_ may be easily removed; then warm up as much as may be required. Two or three pieces of clean whity-brown paper laid on the broth will absorb any greasy particles that may be floating at the top, as the grease will cling to the paper. 1849. Roast mutton, chickens, rabbits, calves' feet or head, game, fish (simply dressed), and simple puddings, are all light food, and easily digested. Of course, these things are only partaken of, supposing the patient is recovering. 1850. A mutton chop, nicely cut, trimmed, and broiled to a turn, is a dish to be recommended for invalids; but it must not be served _with all the fat_ at the end, nor must it be too thickly cut. Let it be cooked over a fire free from smoke, and sent up with the gravy in it, between two very hot plates. Nothing is more disagreeable to an invalid than _smoked_ food. 1851. In making toast-and-water, never blacken the bread, but toast it only a nice brown. Never leave toast-and-water to make until the moment it is required, as it cannot then be properly prepared,--at least, the patient will be obliged to drink it warm, which is anything but agreeable. 1852. In boiling eggs for invalids, let the white be just set; if boiled hard, they will be likely to disagree with the patient. 1853. In Miss Nightingale's admirable "Notes on Nursing," a book that no mother or nurse should be without, she says,--"You cannot be too careful as to quality in sick diet. A nurse should never put before a patient milk that is sour, meat or soup that is turned, an egg that is bad, or vegetables underdone." Yet often, she says, she has seen these things brought in to the sick, in a state perfectly perceptible to every nose or eye except the nurse's. It is here that the clever nurse appears,--she will not bring in the peccant article; but, not to disappoint the patient, she will whip up something else in a few minutes. Remember, that sick cookery should half do the work of your poor patient's weak digestion. 1854. She goes on to caution nurses, by saying,--"Take care not to spill into your patient's saucer; in other words, take care that the outside bottom rim of his cup shall be quite dry and clean. If, every time he lifts his cup to his lips, he has to carry the saucer with it, or else to drop the liquid upon and to soil his sheet, or bedgown, or pillow, or, if he is sitting up, his dress, you have no idea what a difference this minute want of care on your part makes to his comfort, and even to his willingness for food." RECIPES. CHAPTER XXXIX. TO MAKE ARROWROOT. 1855. INGREDIENTS.--Two teaspoonfuls of arrowroot, 3 tablespoonfuls of cold water, 1/2 pint of boiling water. _Mode_.--Mix the arrowroot smoothly in a basin with the cold water, then pour on it the _boiling_ water, _stirring_ all the time. The water must be _boiling_ at the time it is poured on the mixture, or it will not thicken; if mixed with hot water only, it must be put into a clean saucepan, and boiled until it thickens; but this is more trouble, and quite unnecessary if the water is boiling at first. Put the arrowroot into a tumbler, sweeten it with lump sugar, and flavour it with grated nutmeg or cinnamon, or a piece of lemon-peel, or, when allowed, 3 tablespoonfuls of port or sherry. As arrowroot is in itself flavourless and insipid, it is almost necessary to add the wine to make it palatable. Arrowroot made with milk instead of water is far nicer, but is not so easily digested. It should be mixed in the same manner, with 3 tablespoonfuls of cold water, the boiling milk then poured on it, and well stirred. When made in this manner, no wine should be added, but merely sugar, and a little grated nutmeg or lemon-peel. _Time_.--If obliged to be boiled, 2 minutes. _Average cost_, 2d. per pint. _Sufficient_ to make 1/2 pint of arrowroot. MISS NIGHTINGALE says, in her "Notes on Nursing," that arrowroot is a grand dependence of the nurse. As a vehicle for wine, and as a restorative quickly prepared, it is all very well, but it is nothing but starch and water; flour is both more nutritive and less liable to ferment, and is preferable wherever it can be used. BARLEY GRUEL. 1856. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of Scotch or pearl barley, 1/2 pint of port wine, the rind of 1 lemon, 1 quart and 1/2 pint of water, sugar to taste. _Mode_.--After well washing the barley, boil it in 1/2 pint of water for 1/4 hour; then pour this water away; put to the barley the quart of fresh boiling water, and let it boil until the liquid is reduced to half; then strain it off. Add the wine, sugar, and lemon-peel; simmer for 5 minutes, and put it away in a clean jug. It can be warmed from time to time, as required. _Time_.--To be boiled until reduced to half. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d. _Sufficient_ with the wine to make 1-1/2 pint of gruel. TO MAKE BARLEY-WATER. 1857. INGREDIENTS.--2 oz. of pearl barley, 2 quarts of boiling water, 1 pint of cold water. _Mode_.--Wash the barley in cold water; put it into a saucepan with the above proportion of cold water, and when it has boiled for about 1/4 hour, strain off the water, and add the 2 quarts of fresh boiling water. Boil it until the liquid is reduced one half; strain it, and it will be ready for use. It may be flavoured with lemon-peel, after being sweetened, or a small piece may be simmered with the barley. When the invalid may take it, a little lemon-juice gives this pleasant drink in illness a very nice flavour. _Time_.--To boil until the liquid is reduced one half. _Sufficient_ to make 1 quart of barley-water. TO MAKE BEEF TEA. 1858. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of lean gravy-beef, 1 quart of water, 1 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Have the meat cut without fat and bone, and choose a nice fleshy piece. Cut it into small pieces about the size of dice, and put it into a clean saucepan. Add the water _cold_ to it; put it on the fire, and bring it to the boiling-point; then skim well. Put in the salt when the water boils, and _simmer_ the beef tea _gently_ from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, removing any more scum should it appear on the surface. Strain the tea through a hair sieve, and set it by in a cool place. When wanted for use, remove every particle of fat from the top; warm up as much as may be required, adding, if necessary, a little more salt. This preparation is simple beef tea, and is to be administered to those invalids to whom flavourings and seasonings are not allowed. When the patient is very low, use double the quantity of meat to the same proportion of water. Should the invalid be able to take the tea prepared in a more palatable manner, it is easy to make it so by following the directions in the next recipe, which is an admirable one for making savoury beef tea. Beef tea is always better when made the day before it is wanted, and then warmed up. It is a good plan to put the tea into a small cup or basin, and to place this basin in a saucepan of boiling water. When the tea is warm, it is ready to serve. _Time_.--1/4 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 6d. per pint. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 lb. of meat for a pint of good beef tea. MISS NIGHTINGALE says, one of the most common errors among nurses, with respect to sick diet, is the belief that beef tea is the most nutritive of all article. She says, "Just try and boil down a lb. of beef into beef tea; evaporate your beef tea, and see what is left of your beef: you will find that there is barely a teaspoonful of solid nourishment to 1/4 pint of water in beef tea. Nevertheless, there is a certain reparative quality in it,--we do not know what,--as there is in tea; but it maybe safely given in almost any inflammatory disease, and is as little to be depended upon with the healthy or convalescent, where much nourishment is required." SAVOURY BEEF TEA. (_Soyer's Recipe_.) 1859. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of solid beef, 1 oz. of butter, 1 clove, 2 button onions or 1/2 a large one, 1 saltspoonful of salt, 1 quart of water. _Mode_.--Cut the beef into very small dice; put it into a stewpan with the butter, clove, onion, and salt; stir the meat round over the fire for a few minutes, until it produces a thin gravy; then add the water, and let it simmer gently from 1/2 to 3/4 hour, skimming off every particle of fat. When done, strain it through a sieve, and put it by in a cool place until required. The same, if wanted quite plain, is done by merely omitting the vegetables, salt, and clove; the butter cannot be objectionable, as it is taken out in skimming. _Time_.--1/2 to 3/4 hour. _Average cost_, 8d. per pint. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 lb. of beef to make 1 pint of good beef tea. _Note_.--The meat loft from beef tea may be boiled a little longer, and pounded, with spices, &c., for potting. It makes a very nice breakfast dish. DR. CHRISTISON says that "every one will be struck with the readiness with which certain classes of patients will often take diluted meat juice, or beef tea repeatedly, when they refuse all other kinds of food." This is particularly remarkable in case of gastric fever, in which, he says, little or nothing else besides beef tea, or diluted meat juice, has been taken for weeks, or even months; and yet a pint of beef tea contains scarcely 1/4 oz. of anything but water. The result is so striking, that he asks, "What is its mode of action? Not simple nutriment; 1/4 oz. of the most nutritive material cannot nearly replace the daily wear and tear of the tissue in any circumstances." Possibly, he says, it belongs to a new denomination of remedies. BAKED BEEF TEA. 1860. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of fleshy beef, 1-1/2 pint of water, 1/4 saltspoonful of salt. _Mode_.--Cut the beef into small square pieces, after trimming off all the fat, and put it into a baking-jar, with the above proportion of water and salt; cover the jar well, place it in a warm, but not hot oven, and bake for 3 or 4 hours. When the oven is very fierce in the daytime, it is a good plan to put the jar in at night, and let it remain till the next morning, when the tea will be done. It should be strained, and put by in a cool place until wanted. It may also be flavoured with an onion, a clove, and a few sweet herbs, &c., when the stomach is sufficiently strong to take those. _Time_.--3 or 4 hours, or to be left in the oven all night. _Average cost_, 6d. per pint. _Sufficient_.--Allow 1 lb. of meat for 1 pint of good beef tea. BAKED OR STEWED CALF'S FOOT. 1861. INGREDIENTS.--1 calf's foot, 1 pint of milk, 1 pint of water, 1 blade of mace, the rind of 1/4 lemon, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Well clean the foot, and either stew or bake it in the milk-and-water with the other ingredients from 3 to 4 hours. To enhance the flavour, an onion and a small quantity of celery may be added, if approved; 1/2 a teacupful of cream, stirred in just before serving, is also a great improvement to this dish. _Time_.--3 to 4 hours. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. each. _Sufficient_ for 1 person. _Seasonable_ from March to October. CALF'S-FOOT BROTH. 1862. INGREDIENTS.--1 calf's foot, 3 pints of water, 1 small lump of sugar, nutmeg to taste, the yolk of 1 egg, a piece of butter the size of a nut. _Mode_.--Stew the foot in the water, with the lemon-peel, very gently, until the liquid is half wasted, removing any scum, should it rise to the surface. Set it by in a basin until quite cold, then take off every particle of fat. Warm up about 1/2 pint of the broth, adding the butter, sugar, and a very small quantity of grated nutmeg; take it off the fire for a minute or two, then add the beaten yolk of the egg; keep stirring over the fire until the mixture thickens, but do not allow it to boil again after the egg is added, or it will curdle, and the broth will be spoiled. _Time_.--To be boiled until the liquid is reduced one half. _Average cost_, in full season, 9d. each. _Sufficient_ to make 1-1/4 pint of broth. _Seasonable_ from March to October. CHICKEN BROTH. 1863. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 fowl, or the inferior joints of a whole one; 1 quart of water, 1 blade of mace, 1/2 onion, a small bunch of sweet herbs, salt to taste, 10 peppercorns. _Mode_.--An old fowl not suitable for eating may be converted into very good broth, or, if a young one be used, the inferior joints may be put in the broth, and the best pieces reserved for dressing in some other manner. Put the fowl into a saucepan, with all the ingredients, and simmer gently for 1-1/2 hour, carefully skimming the broth well. When done, strain, and put by in a cool place until wanted; then take all the fat off the top, warm up as much as may be required, and serve. This broth is, of course, only for those invalids whose stomachs are strong enough to digest it, with a flavouring of herbs, &c. It may be made in the same manner as beef tea, with water and salt only; but the preparation will be but tasteless and insipid. When the invalid cannot digest this chicken broth with the flavouring, we would recommend plain beef tea in preference to plain chicken tea, which it would be without the addition of herbs, onions, &c. _Time_.--1-1/2 hour. _Sufficient_ to make rather more than 1 pint of broth. NUTRITIOUS COFFEE. 1864. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 oz. of ground coffee, 1 pint of milk. _Mode_.--Let the coffee be freshly ground; put it into a saucepan, with the milk, which should be made nearly boiling before the coffee is put in, and boil both together for 3 minutes; clear it by pouring some of it into a cup, and then back again, and leave it on the hob for a few minutes to settle thoroughly. This coffee may be made still more nutritious by the addition of an egg well beaten, and put into the coffee-cup. _Time_.--5 minutes to boil, 5 minutes to settle. _Sufficient_ to make 1 large breakfast-cupful of coffee. Our great nurse Miss Nightingale remarks, that "a great deal too much against tea is said by wise people, and a great deal too much of tea is given to the sick by foolish people. When you see the natural and almost universal craving in English sick for their 'tea,' you cannot but feel that Nature knows what she is about. But a little tea or coffee restores them quite as much as a great deal; and a great deal of tea, and especially of coffee, impairs the little power of digestion they have. Yet a nurse, because she sees how one or two cups of tea or coffee restore her patient, thinks that three or four cups will do twice as much. This is not the case at all; it is, however, certain that there is nothing yet discovered which is a substitute to the English patient for his cup of tea; he can take it when he can take nothing else, and he often can't take anything else, if he has it not. Coffee is a better restorative than tea, but a greater impairer of the digestion. In making coffee, it is absolutely necessary to buy it in the berry, and grind it at home; otherwise, you may reckon upon its containing a certain amount of chicory, at least. This is not a question of the taste, or of the wholesomeness of chicory; it is, that chicory has nothing at all of the properties for which you give coffee, and, therefore, you may as well not give it." THE INVALID'S CUTLET. 1865. INGREDIENTS.--1 nice cutlet from a loin or neck of mutton, 2 teacupfuls of water, 1 very small stick of celery, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Have the cutlet cut from a very nice loin or neck of mutton; take off all the fat; put it into a stewpan, with the other ingredients; stew _very gently_ indeed for nearly 2 hours, and skim off every particle of fat that may rise to the surface from time to time. The celery should be cut into thin slices before it is added to the meat, and care must be taken not to put in too much of this ingredient, or the dish will not be good. If the water is allowed to boil fast, the cutlet will be hard. _Time_.--2 hours' very gentle stewing. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ for 1 person. _Seasonable_ at any time. EEL BROTH. 1866. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. of eels, a small bunch of sweet herbs, including parsley; 1/2 onion, 10 peppercorns, 3 pints of water, 2 cloves, salt and pepper to taste. _Mode_.--After having cleaned and skinned the eel, cut it into small pieces, and put it into a stewpan, with the other ingredients; simmer gently until the liquid is reduced nearly half, carefully removing the scum as it rises. Strain it through a hair sieve; put it by in a cool place, and, when wanted, take off all the fat from the top, warm up as much as is required, and serve with sippets of toasted bread. This is a very nutritious broth, and easy of digestion. _Time_.--To be simmered until the liquor is reduced to half. _Average cost_, 6d. _Sufficient_ to make 1-1/2 pint of broth. _Seasonable_ from June to March. EGG WINE. 1867. INGREDIENTS.--1 egg, 1 tablespoonful and 1/2 glass of cold water, 1 glass of sherry, sugar and grated nutmeg to taste. _Mode_.--Beat the egg, mixing with it a tablespoonful of cold water; make the wine-and-water hot, but not boiling; pour it on the egg, stirring all the time. Add sufficient lump sugar to sweeten the mixture, and a little grated nutmeg; put all into a very clean saucepan, set it on a gentle fire, and stir the contents one way until they thicken, but _do not allow them to boil_. Serve in a glass with sippets of toasted bread or plain crisp biscuits. When the egg is not warmed, the mixture will be found easier of digestion, but it is not so pleasant a drink. _Sufficient_ for 1 person. TO MAKE GRUEL. 1868. INGREDIENTS.--1 tablespoonful of Robinson's patent groats, 2 tablespoonfuls of cold water, 1 pint of boiling water. _Mode_.--Mix the prepared groats smoothly with the cold water in a basin; pour over them the boiling water, stirring it all the time. Put it into a very clean saucepan; boil the gruel for 10 minutes, keeping it well stirred; sweeten to taste, and serve. It may be flavoured with a small piece of lemon-peel, by boiling it in the gruel, or a little grated nutmeg may be put in; but in these matters the taste of the patient should be consulted. Pour the gruel in a tumbler and serve. When wine is allowed to the invalid, 2 tablespoonfuls of sherry or port make this preparation very nice. In cases of colds, the same quantity of spirits is sometimes added instead of wine. _Time_.--10 minutes. _Sufficient_ to make a pint of gruel. INVALID'S JELLY. 1869. INGREDIENTS.--12 shanks of mutton, 3 quarts of water, a bunch of sweet herbs, pepper and salt to taste, 3 blades of mace, 1 onion, 1 lb. of lean beef, a crust of bread toasted brown. _Mode_.--Soak the shanks in plenty of water for some hours, and scrub them well; put them, with the beef and other ingredients, into a saucepan with the water, and let them simmer very gently for 5 hours. Strain the broth, and, when cold, take off all the fat. It may be eaten either warmed up or cold as a jelly. _Time_.--5 hours. _Average cost_, 1s. _Sufficient_ to make from 1-1/2 to 2 pints of jelly. _Seasonable_ at any time. LEMONADE FOR INVALIDS. 1870. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lemon, lump sugar to taste, 1 pint of boiling water. _Mode_.--Pare off the rind of the lemon thinly; cut the lemon into 2 or 3 thick slices, and remove as much as possible of the white outside pith, and all the pips. Put the slices of lemon, the peel, and lump sugar into a jug; pour over the boiling water; cover it closely, and in 2 hours it will be fit to drink. It should either be strained or poured off from the sediment. _Time_.--2 hours. _Average cost_, 2d. _Sufficient_ to make 1 pint of lemonade. _Seasonable_ at any time. NOURISHING LEMONADE. 1871. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 pint of boiling water, the juice of 4 lemons, the rinds of 2, 1/2 pint of sherry, 4 eggs, 6 oz. of loaf sugar. _Mode_.--Pare off the lemon-rind thinly, put it into a jug with the sugar, and pour over the boiling water. Let it cool, then strain it; add the wine, lemon-juice, and eggs, previously well beaten, and also strained, and the beverage will be ready for use. If thought desirable, the quantity of sherry and water could be lessened, and milk substituted for them. To obtain the flavour of the lemon-rind properly, a few lumps of the sugar should be rubbed over it, until some of the yellow is absorbed. _Time_.--Altogether 1 hour to make it. _Average cost_, 1s. 8d. _Sufficient_ to make 2-1/2 pints of lemonade. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE MUTTON BROTH. 1872. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of the scrag end of the neck of mutton, 1 onion, a bunch of sweet herbs, 4 turnip, 1/2 pints of water, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Put the mutton into a stewpan; pour over the water cold and add the other ingredients. When it boils, skim it very carefully, cover the pan closely, and let it simmer very gently for an hour; strain it, let it cool, take off all the fat from the surface, and warm up as much as may be required, adding, if the patient be allowed to take it, a teaspoonful of minced parsley which has been previously scalded. Pearl barley or rice are very nice additions to mutton broth, and should be boiled as long as the other ingredients. When either of these is added, the broth must not be strained, but merely thoroughly skimmed. Plain mutton broth without seasoning is made by merely boiling the mutton, water, and salt together, straining it, letting the broth cool, skimming all the fat off, and warming up as much as is required. This preparation would be very tasteless and insipid, but likely to agree with very delicate stomachs, whereas the least addition of other ingredients would have the contrary effect. _Time_.--1 hour. _Average cost_, _7d._ _Sufficient_ to make from 1-1/2 to 2 pints of broth. _Seasonable_ at any time. _Note_.--Veal broth may be made in the same manner; the knuckle of a leg or shoulder is the part usually used for this purpose. It is very good with the addition of the inferior joints of a fowl, or a few shank-bones. MUTTON BROTH, QUICKLY MADE. 1873. INGREDIENTS.--1 or 2 chops from a neck of mutton, 1 pint of water, a small bunch of sweet herbs, 1/4 of an onion, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Cut the meat into small pieces, put it into a saucepan with the bones, but no skin or fat; add the other ingredients; cover the saucepan, and bring the water quickly to boil. Take the lid off, and continue the rapid boiling for 20 minutes, skimming it well during the process; strain the broth into a basin; if there should be any fat left on the surface, remove it by laying a piece of thin paper on the top: the greasy particles will adhere to the paper, and so free the preparation from them. To an invalid nothing is more disagreeable than broth served with a quantity of fat floating on the top; to avoid this, it is always better to allow it to get thoroughly cool, the fat can then be so easily removed. _Time_.--20 minutes after the water boils. _Average cost_, 5d. _Sufficient_ to make 1/2 pint of broth. _Seasonable_ at any time. STEWED RABBITS IN MILK. 1874. INGREDIENTS.--2 very young rabbits, not nearly half grown; 1-1/2 pint of milk, 1 blade of mace, 1 dessertspoonful of flour, a little salt and cayenne. _Mode_.--Mix the flour very smoothly with 4 tablespoonfuls of the milk, and when this is well mixed, add the remainder. Cut up the rabbits into joints, put them into a stewpan, with the milk and other ingredients, and simmer them _very gently_ until quite tender. Stir the contents from time to time, to keep the milk smooth and prevent it from burning. 1/2 hour will be sufficient for the cooking of this dish. _Time_.--1/2 hour. _Average cost_, from 1s. to 1s. 6d. each. _Sufficient_ for 3 or 4 meals. _Seasonable_ from September to February. RICE-MILK. 1875. INGREDIENTS.--3 tablespoonfuls of rice, 1 quart of milk, sugar to taste; when liked, a little grated nutmeg. _Mode_.--Well wash the rice, put it into a saucepan with the milk, and simmer gently until the rice is tender, stirring it from time to time to prevent the milk from burning; sweeten it, add a little grated nutmeg, and serve. This dish is also very suitable and wholesome for children; it may be flavoured with a little lemon-peel, and a little finely-minced suet may be boiled with it, which renders it more strengthening and more wholesome. Tapioca, semolina, vermicelli, and macaroni, may all be dressed in the same manner. _Time_.--From 3/4 to 1 hour. _Seasonable_ at any time. TO MAKE TOAST-AND-WATER. 1876. INGREDIENTS.--A slice of bread, 1 quart of boiling water. _Mode_.--Cut a slice from a stale loaf (a piece of hard crust is better than anything else for the purpose), toast it of a nice brown on every side, but _do not allow it to burn or blacken_. Put it into a jug, pour the boiling water over it, cover it closely, and let it remain until cold. When strained, it will be ready for use. Toast-and-water should always be made a short time before it is required, to enable it to get cold: if drunk in a tepid or lukewarm state, it is an exceedingly disagreeable beverage. If, as is sometimes the case, this drink is wanted in a hurry, put the toasted bread into a jug, and only just cover it with the boiling water; when this is cool, cold water may be added in the proportion required,--the toast-and-water strained; it will then be ready for use, and is more expeditiously prepared than by the above method. TOAST SANDWICHES. 1877. INGREDIENTS.--Thin cold toast, thin slices of bread-and-butter, pepper and salt to taste. _Mode_.--Place a very thin piece of cold toast between 2 slices of thin bread-and-butter in the form of a sandwich, adding a seasoning of pepper and salt. This sandwich may be varied by adding a little pulled meat, or very fine slices of cold meat, to the toast, and in any of these forms will be found very tempting to the appetite of an invalid. 1878. Besides the recipes contained in this chapter, there are, in the previous chapters on cookery, many others suitable for invalids, which it would be useless to repeat here. Recipes for fish simply dressed, light soups, plain roast meat, well-dressed vegetables, poultry, simple puddings, jelly, stewed fruits, &c. &c., all of which dishes may be partaken of by invalids and convalescents, will be found in preceding chapters. DINNERS AND DINING. CHAPTER XL. 1879. Man, it has been said, is a dining animal. Creatures of the inferior races eat and drink; man only dines. It has also been said that he is a cooking animal; but some races eat food without cooking it. A Croat captain said to M. Brillat Savarin, "When, in campaign, we feel hungry, we knock over the first animal we find, cut off a steak, powder it with salt, put it under the saddle, gallop over it for half a mile, and then eat it." Huntsmen in Dauphiny, when out shooting, have been known to kill a bird, pluck it, salt and pepper it, and cook it by carrying it some time in their caps. It is equally true that some races of men do not dine any more than the tiger or the vulture. It is not a _dinner_ at which sits the aboriginal Australian, who gnaws his bone half bare and then flings it behind to his squaw. And the native of Terra-del-Fuego does not dine when he gets his morsel of red clay. Dining is the privilege of civilization. The rank which a people occupy in the grand scale may be measured by their way of taking their meals, as well as by their way of treating their women. The nation which knows how to dine has learnt the leading lesson of progress. It implies both the will and the skill to reduce to order, and surround with idealisms and graces, the more material conditions of human existence; and wherever that will and that skill exist, life cannot be wholly ignoble. 1880. Dinner, being the grand solid meal of the day, is a matter of considerable importance; and a well-served table is a striking index of human, ingenuity and resource. "Their table," says Lord Byron, in describing a dinner-party given by Lord and Lady Amundevillo at Norman Abbey,-- "Their table was a board to tempt even ghosts To pass the Styx for more substantial feasts. I will not dwell upon ragouts or roasts, Albeit all human history attests That happiness for man--the hungry sinner!-- Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner." And then he goes on to observe upon the curious complexity of the results produced by human cleverness and application catering for the modifications which occur in civilized life, one of the simplest of the primal instincts:-- "The mind is lost in mighty contemplation Of intellect expended on two courses; And indigestion's grand multiplication Requires arithmetic beyond my forces. Who would suppose, from Adam's simple ration, That cookery could have call'd forth such resources, As form a science and a nomenclature From out the commonest demands of nature?" And we may well say, Who, indeed, would suppose it? The gulf between the Croat, with a steak under his saddle, and Alexis Soyer getting up a great dinner at the Reform-Club, or even Thackeray's Mrs. Raymond Gray giving "a little dinner" to Mr. Snob (with one of those famous "roly-poly puddings" of hers),--what a gulf it is! 1881. That Adam's "ration," however, was "simple," is a matter on which we have contrary judgments given by the poets. When Raphael paid that memorable visit to Paradise,--which we are expressly told by Milton he did exactly at dinner-time,--Eve seems to have prepared "a little dinner" not wholly destitute of complexity, and to have added ice-creams and perfumes. Nothing can be clearer than the testimony of the poet on these points:-- "And Eve within, due at her home prepared For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please True appetite, and not disrelish thirst Of nectarous draughts between.... .... With dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent, What choice to choose for delicacy best, What order so contrived as not to mix Tastes not well join'd, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste, upheld with kindliest change-- * * * * * "She _tempers dulcet creams_.... .... _then strews the ground With rose and odours._" It may be observed, in passing, that the poets, though they have more to say about wine than solid food, because the former more directly stimulates the intellect and the feelings, do not flinch from the subject of eating and drinking. There is infinite zest in the above passage from Milton, and even more in the famous description of a dainty supper, given by Keats in his "Eve of Saint Agnes." Could Queen Mab herself desire to sit down to anything nicer, both as to its appointments and serving, and as to its quality, than the collation served by Porphyro in the lady's bedroom while she slept?-- "There by the bedside, where the faded moon Made a dim silver twilight, soft he set A table, and, half-anguish'd, threw thereor A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet. * * * * * "While he, from forth the closet, brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; With jellies smoother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrups tinct with cinnamon; Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon." But Tennyson has ventured beyond dates, and quinces, and syrups, which may be thought easy to be brought in by a poet. In his idyl of "Audley Court" he gives a most appetizing description of a pasty at a pic-nic:-- "There, on a slope of orchard, Francis laid A damask napkin wrought with horse and hound; Brought out a dusky loaf that smelt of home, And, half cut down, a pasty costly made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret, lay Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied." We gladly quote passages like these, to show how eating and drinking may be surrounded with poetical associations, and how man, using his privilege to turn any and every repast into a "feast of reason," with a warm and plentiful "flow of soul," may really count it as not the least of his legitimate prides, that he is "a dining animal." 1882. It has been said, indeed, that great men, in general, are great diners. This, however, can scarcely be true of any great men but men of action; and, in that case, it would simply imply that persons of vigorous constitution, who work hard, eat heartily; for, of course, a life of action _requires_ a vigorous constitution, even though there may be much illness, as in such cases as William III. and our brave General Napier. Of men of thought, it can scarcely be true that they eat so much, in a general way, though even they eat more than they are apt to suppose they do; for, as Mr. Lewes observes, "nerve-tissue is very expensive." Leaving great men of all kinds, however, to get their own dinners, let us, who are not great, look after ours. Dine we must, and we may as well dine elegantly as well as wholesomely. 1883. There are plenty of elegant dinners in modern days, and they were not wanting in ancient times. It is well known that the dinner-party, or symposium, was a not unimportant, and not unpoetical, feature in the life of the sociable, talkative, tasteful Greek. Douglas Jerrold said that such is the British humour for dining and giving of dinners, that if London were to be destroyed by an earthquake, the Londoners would meet at a public dinner to consider the subject. The Greeks, too, were great diners: their social and religious polity gave them many chances of being merry and making others merry on good eating and drinking. Any public or even domestic sacrifice to one of the gods, was sure to be followed by a dinner-party, the remains of the slaughtered "offering" being served up on the occasion as a pious _pièce de résistance;_ and as the different gods, goddesses, and demigods, worshipped by the community in general, or by individuals, were very numerous indeed, and some very religious people never let a day pass without offering up something or other, the dinner-parties were countless. A birthday, too, was an excuse for a dinner; a birthday, that is, of any person long dead and buried, as well as of a living person, being a member of the family, or otherwise esteemed. Dinners were, of course, eaten on all occasions of public rejoicing. Then, among the young people, subscription dinners, very much after the manner of modern times, were always being got up; only that they would be eaten not at an hotel, but probably at the house of one of the _heterae_. A Greek dinner-party was a handsome, well-regulated affair. The guests came in elegantly dressed and crowned with flowers. A slave, approaching each person as he entered, took off his sandals and washed his feet. During the repast, the guests reclined on couches with pillows, among and along which were set small tables. After the solid meal came the "symposium" proper, a scene of music, merriment, and dancing, the two latter being supplied chiefly by young girls. There was a chairman, or symposiarch, appointed by the company to regulate the drinking; and it was his duty to mix the wine in the "mighty bowl." From this bowl the attendants ladled the liquor into goblets, and, with the goblets, went round and round the tables, filling the cups of the guests. 1884. The elegance with which a dinner is served is a matter which depends, of course, partly upon the means, but still more upon the taste of the master and mistress of the house. It may be observed, in general, that there should always be flowers on the table, and as they form no item of expense, there is no reason why they should not be employed every day. 1885. The variety in the dishes which furnish forth a modern dinner-table, does not necessarily imply anything unwholesome, or anything capricious. Food that is not well relished cannot be well digested; and the appetite of the over-worked man of business, or statesman, or of any dweller in towns, whose occupations are exciting and exhausting, is jaded, and requires stimulation. Men and women who are in rude health, and who have plenty of air and exercise, eat the simplest food with relish, and consequently digest it well; but those conditions are out of the reach of many men. They must suit their mode of dining to their mode of living, if they cannot choose the latter. It is in serving up food that is at once appetizing and wholesome that the skill of the modern housewife is severely tasked; and she has scarcely a more important duty to fulfil. It is, in fact, her particular vocation, in virtue of which she may be said to hold the health of the family, and of the friends of the family, in her hands from day to day. It has been said that "the destiny of nations depends on the manner in which they are fed;" and a great gastronomist exclaims, "Tell me what kind of food you eat, and I will tell you what kind of man you are." The same writer has some sentences of the same kind, which are rather hyperbolical, but worth quoting:--"The pleasures of the table belong to all ages, to all conditions, to all countries, and to all eras; they mingle with all other pleasures, and remain, at last, to console us for their departure. The discovery of a new dish confers more happiness upon humanity than the discovery of a new star." 1886. The gastronomist from whom we have already quoted, has some aphorisms and short directions in relation to dinner-parties, which are well deserving of notice:--"Let the number of your guests never exceed twelve, so that the conversation may be general. [Footnote: We have seen this varied by saying that the number should never exceed that of the Muses or fall below that of the Graces.] Let the temperature of the dining-room be about 68°. Let the dishes be few in number in the first course, but proportionally good. The order of food is from the most substantial to the lightest. The order of drinking wine is from the mildest to the most foamy and most perfumed. To invite a person to your house is to take charge of his happiness so long as he is beneath your roof. The mistress of the house should always be certain that the coffee be excellent; whilst the master should be answerable for the quality of his wines and liqueurs." BILLS OF FARE. JANUARY. 1887.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course._ Mock Turtle Soup, removed by Cod's Head and Shoulders. Stewed Eels. Vase of Red Mullet. Flowers. Clear Oxtail Soup, removed by Fried Filleted Soles. _Entrées._ Riz de Veau aux Tomates. Ragoût of Vase of Cotelettes de Pore Lobster. Flowers. à la Roberts. Poulet à la Marengo. _Second Course._ Roast Turkey. Pigeon Pie. Boiled Turkey and Vase of Boiled Ham. Celery Sauce. Flowers. Tongue, garnished. Saddle of Mutton. _Third Course._ Charlotte Pheasants, Apricot Jam à la Parisienne. removed by Tartlets. Plum-pudding. Jelly. Cream. Vase of Cream. Flowers. Jelly. Snipes, removed by Pommes à la Condé. We have given above the plan of placing the various dishes of the 1st Course, Entrées, 2nd Course, and 3rd Course. Following this will be found bills of fare for smaller parties; and it will be readily seen, by studying the above arrangement of dishes, how to place a less number for the more limited company. Several _menus_ for dinners _à la Russe,_ are also included in the present chapter. 1888.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (January). FIRST COURSE. Carrot Soup à la Crécy. Oxtail Soup. Turbot and Lobster Sauce. Fried Smelts, with Dutch Sauce. ENTREES. Mutton Cutlets, with Soubise Sauce. Sweetbreads. Oyster Patties. Fillets of Rabbits. SECOND COURSE. Roast Turkey. Stewed Rump of Beef à la Jardinière. Boiled Ham, garnished with Brussels Sprouts. Boiled Chickens and Celery Sauce. THIRD COURSE. Roast Hare. Teal. Eggs à la Neige. Vol-au-Vent of Preserved Fruit. 1 Jelly. 1 Cream. Potatoes à la Maître d'Hôtel. Grilled Mushrooms. DESSERT AND ICES. 1889.--DINNER FOR 10 PERSONS (January). FIRST COURSE. Soup à la Reine. Whitings au Gratin. Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. ENTREES. Tendrons de Veau. Curried Fowl and Boiled Rice. SECOND COURSE. Turkey, stuffed with Chestnuts, and Chestnut Sauce. Boiled Leg of Mutton, English Fashion, with Capers Sauce and Mashed Turnips. THIRD COURSE. Woodcocks or Partridges. Widgeon. Charlotte à la Vanille. Cabinet Pudding. Orange Jelly. Blancmange. Artichoke Bottoms. Macaroni, with Parmesan Cheese. DESSERT AND ICES. 1890.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (January). FIRST COURSE. Mulligatawny Soup. Brill and Shrimp Sauce. Fried Whitings. ENTREES. Fricasseed Chicken. Pork Cutlets, with Tomato Sauce. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Mutton. Boiled Turkey and Celery Sauce. Boiled Tongue, garnished with Brussels Sprouts. THIRD COURSE. Roast Pheasants. Meringues à la Crême. Compôte of Apples. Orange Jelly. Cheesecakes. Soufflé of Rice. DESSERT AND ICES. 1891.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (January).--I. FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Soles à la Normandie. ENTREES. Sweetbreads, with Sauce Piquante. Mutton Cutlets, with Mashed Potatoes. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Venison. Boiled Fowls and Bacon, garnished with Brussels Sprouts. THIRD COURSE. Plum-pudding. Custards in Glasses. Apple Tart. Fondue à la Brillat Savarin. DESSERT. 1892.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (January).--II. FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Fried Slices of Codfish and Anchovy Sauce. John Dory. ENTREES. Stewed Rump-steak à la Jardinière Rissoles. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Leg of Mutton. Curried Rabbit and Boiled Rice. THIRD COURSE. Partridges. Apple Fritters. Tartlets of Greengage Jam. Orange Jelly. Plum-pudding. DESSERT. 1893.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (January).--III. FIRST COURSE. Pea-soup. Baked Haddock. Soles à la Crême. ENTREES. Mutton Cutlets and Tomato Sauce. Fricasseed Rabbit. SECOND COURSE. Roast Pork and Apple Sauce. Breast of Veal, Rolled and Stuffed. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Jugged Hare. Whipped Cream, Blancmange. Mince Pies. Cabinet Pudding. 1894.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (January).--IV. FIRST COURSE. Palestine Soup. Fried Smelts. Stewed Eels. ENTREES. Ragoût of Lobster. Broiled Mushrooms. Vol-au-Vent of Chicken. SECOND COURSE. Sirloin of Beef. Boiled Fowls and Celery Sauce. Tongue, garnished with Brussels Sprouts. THIRD COURSE. Wild Ducks. Charlotte aux Pommes. Cheesecakes. Transparent Jelly, inlaid with Brandy Cherries. Blancmange. Nesselrode Pudding. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR JANUARY. 1895. _Sunday._--1, Boiled turbot and oyster sauce, potatoes. 2. Roast leg or griskin of pork, apple sauce, brocoli, potatoes. 3. Cabinet pudding, and damson tart made with preserved damsons. 1896. _Monday._--1. The remains of turbot warmed in oyster sauce, potatoes. 2. Cold pork, stewed steak. 3. Open jam tart, which should have been made with the pieces of paste left from the damson tart; baked arrowroot pudding. 1897. _Tuesday._--1. Boiled neck of mutton, carrots, mashed turnips, suet dumplings, and caper sauce: the broth should be served first, and a little rice or pearl barley should be boiled with it along with the meat. 2. Rolled jam pudding. 1898. _Wednesday._--1. Roast rolled ribs of beef, greens, potatoes, and horseradish sauce. 2. Bread-and-butter pudding, cheesecakes. 1899. _Thursday._--1. Vegetable soup (the bones from the ribs of beef should be boiled down with this soup), cold beef, mashed potatoes. 2. Pheasants, gravy, bread sauce. 3. Macaroni. 1900. _Friday._--1. Fried whitings or soles. 2. Boiled rabbit and onion sauce, minced beef, potatoes. 3. Currant dumplings. 1901. _Saturday._--1. Rump-steak pudding or pie, greens, and potatoes. 2. Baked custard pudding and stewed apples. * * * * * 1902. _Sunday._--1. Codfish and oyster sauce, potatoes. 2. Joint of roast mutton, either leg, haunch, or saddle; brocoli and potatoes, red-currant jelly. 3. Apple tart and custards, cheese. 1903. _Monday._--1. The remains of codfish picked from the bone, and warmed through in the oyster sauce; if there is no sauce left, order a few oysters and make a little fresh; and do not let the fish boil, or it will be watery. 2. Curried rabbit, with boiled rice served separately, cold mutton, mashed potatoes. 3. Somersetshire dumplings with wine sauce. 1904. _Tuesday._--1. Boiled fowls, parsley-and-butter; bacon garnished with Brussels sprouts, minced or hashed mutton. 2. Baroness pudding. 1905. _Wednesday._--1. The remains of the fowls cut up into joints and fricasseed; joint of roast pork and apple sauce, and, if liked, sage-and-onion, served on a dish by itself; turnips and potatoes. 2. Lemon pudding, either baked or boiled. 1906. _Thursday._--1. Cold pork and jugged hare, red-currant jelly, mashed potatoes. 2. Apple pudding. 1907. _Friday._--1. Boiled beef, either the aitchbone or the silver side of the round; carrots, turnips, suet dumplings, and potatoes: if there is a marrowbone, serve the marrow on toast at the same time. 2. Rice snowballs. 1908. _Saturday._--1. Pea-soup made from liquor in which beef was boiled; cold beef, mashed potatoes. 2. Baked batter fruit pudding. FEBRUARY. 1909.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course._ Hare Soup, removed by Turbot and Oyster Sauce. Fried Eels. Vase of Fried Whitings. Flowers. Oyster Soup, removed by Crimped Cod à la Maître d'Hôtel. _Entrées._ Lark Pudding. Lobster Patties. Vase of Filets de Perdrix. Flowers. Fricasseed Chicken. _Second Course._ Braised Capon. Boiled Ham, garnished. Roast Fowls, garnished Vase of Boiled Fowls and with Water-cresses. Flowers. White Sauce. Pâté Chaud. Haunch of Mutton. _Third Course_ Ducklings, removed by Ice Pudding. Meringues. Coffee Cream. Cheesecakes. Orange Jelly. Vase of Clear Jelly. Flowers. Victoria Blancmange. Gâteau de Sandwiches. Pommes. Partridges, removed by Cabinet Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 1910.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (February). FIRST COURSE. Soup a la Reine. Clear Gravy Soup. Brill and Lobster Sauce. Fried Smelts. ENTREES. Lobster Rissoles. Beef Palates. Pork Cutlets à la Soubise. Grilled Mushrooms. SECOND COURSE. Braised Turkey. Haunch of Mutton. Boiled Capon and Oysters. Tongue, garnished with tufts of Brocoli. Vegetables and Salads. THIRD COURSE. Wild Ducks. Plovers. Orange Jelly. Clear Jelly. Charlotte Russe. Nesselrode Pudding. Gâteau de Riz. Sea-kale. Maids of Honour. DESSERT AND ICES. 1911.--DINNER FOR 10 PERSONS (February). FIRST COURSE. Palestine Soup. John Dory, with Dutch Sauce. Red Mullet, with Sauce Génoise. ENTREES. Sweetbread Cutlets, with Poivrade Sauce. Fowl au Béchamel. SECOND COURSE. Roast Saddle of Mutton. Boiled Capon and Oysters. Boiled Tongue, garnished with Brussels Sprouts. THIRD COURSE. Guinea-Fowls. Ducklings. Pain de Rhubarb. Orange Jelly. Strawberry Cream. Cheesecakes. Almond Pudding. Fig Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 1912.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (February). FIRST COURSE. Mock Turtle Soup. Fillets of Turbot a la Crême. Fried Filleted Soles and Anchovy Sauce. ENTREES. Larded Fillets of Rabbits. Tendrons de Veau with Purée of Tomatoes. SECOND COURSE. Stewed Rump of Beef à la Jardinière. Roast Fowls. Boiled Ham. THIRD COURSE. Roast Pigeons or Larks. Rhubarb Tartlets. Meringues. Clear Jelly. Cream. Ice Pudding. Soufflé. DESSERT AND ICES. 1913.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (February)--I. FIRST COURSE. Rice Soup. Red Mullet, with Génoise Sauce. Fried Smelts. ENTREES. Fowl Pudding. Sweetbreads. SECOND COURSE. Roast Turkey and Sausages. Boiled Leg of Pork. Pease Pudding. THIRD COURSE. Lemon Jelly. Charlotte à la Vanille. Maids of Honour. Plum-pudding, removed by Ice Pudding. DESSERT. 1914.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (February).--II. FIRST COURSE. Spring Soup. Boiled Turbot and Lobster Sauce. ENTREES. Fricasseed Rabbit. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Boiled Round of Beef and Marrow-bones. Roast Fowls, garnished with Water-cresses and rolled Bacon. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Marrow Pudding. Cheesecakes. Tartlets of Greengage Jam. Lemon Cream. Rhubarb Tart. DESSERT. 1915.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (February).--III. FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Fried Whitings. Stewed Eels. ENTREES. Poulet à la Marengo. Breast of Veal stuffed and rolled. SECOND COURSE. Roast Leg of Pork and Apple Sauce. Boiled Capon and Oysters. Tongue, garnished with tufts of Brocoli. THIRD COURSE. Wild Ducks. Lobster Salad. Charlotte aux Pommes. Pain de Rhubarb. Vanilla Cream. Orange Jelly. DESSERT. 1916.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (February).--IV. FIRST COURSE. Ox-tail Soup. Cod à la Crême. Fried Soles. ENTREES. Lark Pudding. Fowl Scollops. SECOND COURSE. Roast Leg of Mutton. Boiled Turkey and Celery Sauce. Pigeon Pie. Small Ham, boiled and garnished. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Game, when liked. Tartlets of Raspberry Jam. Vol-au-Vent of Rhubarb. Swiss Cream. Cabinet Pudding. Brocoli and Sea-kale. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR FEBRUARY. 1917. _Sunday_.--1. Ox-tail soup. 2 Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, brocoli, and potatoes. 3. Plum-pudding, apple tart. Cheese. 1918. _Monday_.--1. Fried soles, plain melted butter, and potatoes. 2. Cold roast beef, mashed potatoes. 3. The remains of plum-pudding cut in slices, warmed, and served with sifted sugar sprinkled over it. Cheese. 1919. _Tuesday_.--1. The remains of ox-tail soup from Sunday. 2. Pork cutlets with tomato sauce; hashed beef. 3. Boiled jam pudding. Cheese. 1920. _Wednesday_.--1. Boiled haddock and plain melted butter. 2. Rump-steak pudding, potatoes, greens. 3. Arrowroot, blancmange, garnished with jam. 1921. _Thursday_.--1. Boiled leg of pork, greens, potatoes, pease pudding. 2. Apple fritters, sweet macaroni. 1922. _Friday_.--1. Pea-soup made with liquor that the pork was boiled in. 2. Cold pork, mashed potatoes. 3. Baked rice pudding. 1923. _Saturday_.--1. Broiled herrings and mustard sauce. 2. Haricot mutton. 3. Macaroni, either served as a sweet pudding or with cheese. * * * * * 1924. _Sunday_.--1. Carrot soup. 2. Boiled leg of mutton and caper sauce, mashed turnips, roast fowls, and bacon. 3. Damson tart made with bottled fruit, ratafia pudding. 1925. _Monday_.--1. The remainder of fowl curried and served with rice; rump-steaks and oyster sauce, cold mutton. 2. Rolled jam pudding. 1926. _Tuesday_.--1. Vegetable soup made with liquor that the mutton was boiled in on Sunday. 2. Roast sirloin of beef, Yorkshire pudding, brocoli, and potatoes. 3. Cheese. 1927. _Wednesday_.--1. Fried soles, melted butter. 2. Cold beef and mashed potatoes: if there is any cold boiled mutton left, cut it into neat slices and warm it in a little caper sauce. 3. Apple tart. 1928. _Thursday_.--1. Boiled rabbit and onion sauce, stewed beef and vegetables, made with the remains of cold beef and bones. 2. Macaroni. 1929. _Friday_.--1. Roast leg of pork, sage and onions and apple sauce; greens and potatoes. 2. Spinach and poached eggs instead of pudding. Cheese and water-cresses. 1930. _Saturday_.--1. Rump-steak-and-kidney pudding, cold pork and mashed potatoes. 2. Baked rice pudding. MARCH. 1931.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course._ Turtle or Mock Turtle Soup, removed by Salmon and dressed Cucumber. Red Mullet. Vase of Filets of Whitings. Flowers. Spring Soup, removed by Boiled Turbot and Lobster Sauce. _Entrées_ Fricasseed Chicken. Vol-au-Vent. Vase of Compôte of Pigeons. Flowers. Larded Sweetbreads. _Second Course._ Fore-quarter of Lamb. Braised Capon. Boiled Tongue, Vase of Ham. garnished. Flowers. Roast Fowls. Rump of Beef à la Jardinière. _Third Course._ Guinea-Fowls, larded, removed by Cabinet Pudding. Apricot Wine Jelly. Rhubarb Tartlets. Tart. Custards. Vase of Jelly in Flowers. glasses. Italian Cream. Damson Tart. Ducklings, Cheesecakes. removed by Nesselrode Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 1932.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (March). FIRST COURSE. White Soup. Clear Gravy Soup. Boiled Salmon, Shrimp Sauce, and dressed Cucumber. Baked Mullets in paper cases. ENTREES. Filet de Boeuf and Spanish Sauce. Larded Sweetbreads. Rissoles. Chicken Patties. SECOND COURSE. Roast Fillet of Veal and Béchamel Sauce. Boiled Leg of Lamb. Roast Fowls, garnished with Water-cresses. Boiled Ham, garnished with Carrots and mashed Turnips. Vegetables--Sea-kale, Spinach, or Brocoli. THIRD COURSE. Two Ducklings. Guinea-Fowl, larded. Orange Jelly. Charlotte Russe. Coffee Cream. Ice Pudding. Macaroni with Parmesan Cheese. Spinach, garnished with Croutons. DESSERT AND ICES. 1933.--DINNER FOR 10 PERSONS (March). FIRST COURSE. Macaroni Soup. Boiled Turbot and Lobster Sauce. Salmon Cutlets. ENTREES. Compôte of Pigeons. Mutton Cutlets and Tomato Sauce. SECOND COURSE. Roast Lamb. Boiled Half Calf's Head, Tongue, and Brains. Boiled Bacon-cheek, garnished with spoonfuls of Spinach. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Plum-pudding. Ginger Cream. Trifle. Rhubarb Tart. Cheesecakes. Fondues, in cases. DESSERT AND ICES. 1934.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (March). FIRST COURSE. Calf's-Head Soup. Brill and Shrimp Sauce. Broiled Mackerel à la Maître d'Hôtel. ENTREES. Lobster Cutlets. Calf's Liver and Bacon, aux fines herbes. SECOND COURSE. Roast Loin of Veal. Two Boiled Fowls à la Béchamel. Boiled Knuckle of Ham. Vegetables--Spinach or Brocoli. THIRD COURSE. Wild Ducks. Apple Custards. Blancmange. Lemon Jelly. Jam Sandwiches. Ice Pudding. Potatoes à la Maître d'Hôtel. DESSERT AND ICES. 1935.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (March).--I. FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Soles à la Crême. ENTREES. Veal Cutlets. Small Vols-au-Vent. SECOND COURSE. Small Saddle of Mutton. Half Calf's Head. Boiled Bacon-cheek, garnished with Brussels Sprouts. THIRD COURSE. Cabinet Pudding. Orange Jelly. Custards, in glasses. Rhubarb Tart. Lobster Salad. DESSERT. 1936.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (March).--II. FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Baked Mullets. ENTREES. Chicken Cutlets. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Roast Lamb and Mint Sauce. Boiled Leg of Pork. Pease Pudding. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Swiss Cream. Lemon Jelly. Cheesecakes. Rhubarb Tart. Macaroni. Dessert. 1937.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (March).--III. FIRST COURSE. Oyster Soup. Boiled Salmon and dressed Cucumber. ENTREES. Rissoles. Fricasseed Chicken. SECOND COURSE. Boiled Leg of Mutton, Caper Sauce. Roast Fowls, garnished with Water-cresses. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Charlotte aux Pommes. Orange Jelly. Lemon Cream. Soufflé of Arrowroot. Sea-kale. DESSERT. 1938.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (March).--IV. FIRST COURSE. Ox-tail Soup. Boiled Mackerel. ENTREES. Stewed Mutton Kidneys. Minced Veal and Oysters. SECOND COURSE. Stewed Shoulder of Veal. Roast Ribs of Beef and Horseradish Sauce. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Tartlets of Strawberry Jam. Cheesecakes. Gateau de Riz. Carrot Pudding. Sea-kale. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR MARCH. 1939. _Sunday_.--1. Boiled 1/2 calf's head, pickled pork, the tongue on a small dish with the brains round it; mutton cutlets and mashed potatoes. 2. Plum tart made with bottled fruit, baked custard pudding, Baroness pudding. 1940. _Monday_.--1. Roast shoulder of mutton and onion sauce, brocoli, baked potatoes. 2. Slices of Baroness pudding warmed, and served with sugar sprinkled over. Cheesecakes. 1941. _Tuesday_.--1. Mock turtle soup, made with liquor that calf's head was boiled in, and the pieces of head. 2. Hashed mutton, rump-steaks and oyster sauce. 3. Boiled plum-pudding. 1942. _Wednesday_.--1. Fried whitings, melted butter, potatoes. 2. Boiled beef, suet dumplings, carrots, potatoes, marrow-bones. 3. Arrowroot blancmange, and stewed rhubarb. 1943. _Thursday_.--1. Pea-soup made from liquor that beef was boiled in. 2. Stewed rump-steak, cold beef, mashed potatoes. 3. Rolled jam pudding. 1944. _Friday_.--1. Fried soles, melted butter, potatoes. 2. Roast loin of mutton, brocoli, potatoes, bubble-and-squeak. 3. Rice pudding. 1945. _Saturday_.--1.--Rump-steak pie, haricot mutton made with remains of cold loin. 2. Pancakes, ratafia pudding. * * * * * 1946. _Sunday_.--1. Roast fillet of veal, boiled ham, spinach and potatoes. 2. Rhubarb tart, custards in glasses, bread-and-butter pudding. 1947. _Monday_.--1. Baked soles, potatoes. 2. Minced veal and rump-steak pie. 3. Somersetshire dumplings with the remains of custards poured round them; marmalade tartlets. 1948. _Tuesday_.--1. Gravy soup. 2. Boiled leg of mutton, mashed turnips, suet dumplings, caper sauce, potatoes, veal rissoles made with remains of fillet of veal. 3. Cheese. 1949. _Wednesday_.--1. Stewed mullets. 2. Roast fowls, bacon, gravy, and bread sauce, mutton pudding, made with a few slices of the cold meat and the addition of two kidneys. 3. Baked lemon pudding. 1950. _Thursday_.--1. Vegetable soup made with liquor that the mutton was boiled in, and mixed with the remains of gravy soup. 2. Roast ribs of beef, Yorkshire pudding, horseradish sauce, brocoli and potatoes. 3. Apple pudding or macaroni. 1951. _Friday_.--1. Stewed eels, pork cutlets and tomato sauce. 2. Cold beef, mashed potatoes. 3. Plum tart made with bottled fruit. 1952. _Saturday_.--1. Rump-steak-and-kidney pudding, broiled beef-bones, greens and potatoes. 2. Jam tartlets made with pieces of paste from plum tart, baked custard pudding. APRIL. 1953.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course._ Spring Soup, removed by Salmon and Lobster Sauce. Fillet of Mackerel. Vase of Fried Smelts. Flowers. Soles a la Crême. _Entrées._ Lamb Cutlets and Asparagus Peas. Curried Lobster. Vase of Oyster Patties. Flowers. Grenadines de Veau. _Second Course._ Roast Ribs of Lamb. Larded Capon. Stewed Beef A la Vase of Boiled Ham. Jardinière. Flowers. Spring Chickens. Braised Turkey. _Third Course._ Ducklings, removed by Cabinet Pudding. Clear Jelly. Charlotte a la Parisienne. Orange Jelly. Raspberry Jam Turtles. Vase of Cheese-Cakes. Victoria Sandwiches. Flowers. Rhubarb Tart. Raspberry Cream. Nesselrode Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 1954.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (April). FIRST COURSE. Soup à la Reine. Julienne Soup. Turbot and Lobster Sauce. Slices of Salmon a la Genévése. ENTREES. Croquettes of Leveret. Fricandeau de Veau. Vol-au-Vent. Stewed Mushrooms. SECOND COURSE. Fore-quarter of Lamb. Saddle of Mutton. Boiled Chickens and Asparagus Peas. Boiled Tongue garnished with Tufts of Brocoli. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Larded Guinea-Fowls. Charlotte a la Parisienne. Orange Jelly. Meringues. Ratafia Ice Pudding. Lobster Salad. Sea-kale. DESSERT AND ICES. 1955.--DINNER FOR 10 PERSONS (April). FIRST COURSE Gravy Soup. Salmon and Dressed Cucumber. Shrimp Sauce. Fillets of Whitings. ENTREES. Lobster Cutlets. Chicken Patties. SECOND COURSE. Roast Fillet of Veal. Boiled Leg of Lamb. Ham, garnished with Brocoli. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Compôte of Rhubarb. Custards. Vanilla Cream. Orange Jelly. Cabinet Pudding. Ice Pudding. DESSERT. 1956.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (April). FIRST COURSE. Spring Soup. Slices of Salmon and Caper Sauce. Fried Filleted Soles. ENTREES. Chicken Vol-au-Vent. Mutton Cutlets and Tomato Sauce. SECOND COURSE. Roast Loin of Veal. Boiled Fowls à la Béchamel. Tongue. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Guinea-Fowl. Sea-kale. Artichoke Bottoms. Cabinet Pudding. Blancmange. Apricot Tartlets. Rice Fritters. Macaroni and Parmesan Cheese. DESSERT. 1957.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (April). FIRST COURSE. Tapioca Soup. Boiled Salmon and Lobster Sauce. ENTREES. Sweetbreads. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Mutton. Boiled Capon and White Sauce. Tongue. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Soufflé of Rice. Lemon Cream. Charlotte & la Parisienne. Rhubarb Tart. DESSERT. 1958.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (April).--II. FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Fried Whitings. Red Mullet. ENTREES. Lamb Cutlets and Cucumbers. Rissoles. SECOND COURSE. Roast Ribs of Beef. Neck of Veal à la Béchamel. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Lemon Pudding. Rhubarb Tart. Custards. Cheesecakes. DESSERT. 1959.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (April).--III. FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Brill and Shrimp Sauce. ENTREES. Fricandeau of Veal. Lobster Cutlets. SECOND COURSE. Roast Fore-quarter of Lamb. Boiled Chickens. Tongue. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Goslings. Sea-kale. Plum-pudding. Whipped Cream. Compôte of Rhubarb. Cheesecakes. DESSERT. 1960.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (April).--IV. FIRST COURSE. Ox-tail Soup. Crimped Salmon. ENTREES. Croquettes of Chicken. Mutton Cutlets and Soubise Sauce. SECOND COURSE. Roast Fillet of Veal. Boiled Bacon-cheek garnished with Sprouts. Boiled Capon. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Sea-kale. Lobster Salad. Cabinet Pudding. Ginger Cream. Raspberry Jam Tartlets. Rhubarb Tart. Macaroni. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR APRIL. 1961. _Sunday._--1. Clear gravy soup. 2. Roast haunch of mutton, sea-kale, potatoes. 3. Rhubarb tart, custards in glasses. 1962. _Monday._--1. Crimped skate and caper sauce. 2. Boiled knuckle of veal and rice, cold mutton, mashed potatoes. 3. Baked plum-pudding. 1963. _Tuesday._--1. Vegetable soup. 2. Toad-in-the-hole, made from remains of cold mutton. 3. Stewed rhubarb and baked custard pudding. 1964. _Wednesday._--1. Fried soles, anchovy sauce. 2. Boiled beef, carrots, suet dumplings. 3. Lemon pudding. 1965. _Thursday._--1. Pea-soup made with liquor that beef was boiled in. 2. Cold beef, mashed potatoes, mutton cutlets and tomato sauce. 3. Macaroni. 1966. _Friday._--1. Bubble-and-squeak, made with remains of cold beef. Roast shoulder of veal stuffed, spinach, potatoes. 2. Boiled batter pudding and sweet sauce. 1967. _Saturday._--1. Stewed veal with vegetables, made from the remains of the shoulder. Broiled rump-steaks and oyster sauce. 2. Yeast-dumplings. * * * * * 1968. _Sunday._--1. Boiled salmon and dressed cucumber, anchovy sauce 2. Roast fore-quarter of lamb, spinach, potatoes, mint sauce. 2. Rhubarb tart, cheesecakes. 1969. _Monday._--1. Curried salmon, made with remains of salmon, dish of boiled rice. 2. Cold lamb, Rump-steak-and-kidney pudding, potatoes. 3. Spinach and poached eggs. 1970. _Tuesday._--1. Scotch mutton broth with pearl barley. 2. Boiled neck of mutton, caper sauce, suet dumplings, carrots. 3. Baked rice-pudding. 1971. _Wednesday._--1. Boiled mackerel and melted butter or fennel sauce, potatoes. 2. Roast fillet of veal, bacon, and greens. 3. Fig pudding. 1972. _Thursday._--1. Flemish soup. 2. Roast loin of mutton, brocoli, potatoes; veal rolls made from remains of cold veal. 3. Boiled rhubarb pudding. 1973. _Friday._--1. Irish stew or haricot, made from cold mutton, minced veal. 2. Half-pay pudding. 1974. _Saturday._--1. Rump-steak pie, broiled mutton-chops. 2. Baked arrowroot pudding. MAY. 1975.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course._ Asparagus Soup, removed by Salmon and Lobster Sauce. Fried Filleted Vase of Fillets of Mackerel, Soles Flowers. à la Maître d'Hôtel. Oxtail Soup, removed by Brill & Shrimp Sauce. _Entrées._ Lamb Cutlets and Cucumbers. Lobster Pudding. Vase of Curried Fowl. Flowers. Veal Ragoût. _Second Course._ Saddle of Lamb. Raised Pie. Roast Fowls. Vase of Boiled Capon Flowers. and White Sauce. Braised Ham. Roast Veal. _Third Course._ Almond Goslings, Lobster Salad. Cheesecake removed by College Puddings. Noyeau Jelly. Italian Vase of Charlotte à la Cream. Flowers. Parisienne. Inlaid Jelly. Plovers' Ducklings, Eggs. removed by Tartlets. Nesselrode Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 1976.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (May). FIRST COURSE. White Soup. Asparagus Soup. Salmon Cutlets. Boiled Turbot and Lobster Sauce. ENTREES. Chicken Vol-au-Vent. Lamb Cutlets and Cucumbers. Fricandeau of Veal. Stewed Mushrooms. SECOND COURSE. Roast Lamb. Haunch of Mutton. Boiled and Roast Fowls. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Goslings. Charlotte Russe. Vanilla Cream. Gooseberry Tart. Custards. Cheesecakes. Cabinet Pudding and Iced Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 1977.--DINNER FOR 10 PERSONS (May). FIRST COURSE. Spring Soup. Salmon à la Genévése. Red Mullet. ENTREES. Chicken Vol-au-Vent. Calf's Liver and Bacon aux Fines Herbes. SECOND COURSE. Saddle of Mutton. Half Calf's Head, Tongue, and Brains. Braised Ham. Asparagus. THIRD COURSE. Roast Pigeons. Ducklings. Sponge-cake Pudding. Charlotte à la Vanille. Gooseberry Tart. Cream. Cheesecakes. Apricot-jam Tart. DESSERT AND ICES. 1978.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (May). FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Brill and Lobster Sauce. Fried Fillets of Mackerel. ENTREES Lamb Cutlets and Cucumbers. Lobster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Roast Fillet of Veal. Boiled Leg of Lamb. Asparagus. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Gooseberry Tart. Custards. Fancy Pastry. Soufflé. DESSERT AND ICES. 1979.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (May).--I. FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Boiled Salmon and Anchovy Sauce. ENTREES. Fillets of Beef and Tomato Sauce. Sweetbreads. SECOND COURSE. Roast Lamb. Boiled Capon. Asparagus. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Cabinet Pudding. Compôte of Gooseberries. Custards in Glasses. Blancmange. Lemon Tartlets. Fondue. DESSERT. 1980.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (May).--II. FIRST COURSE. Macaroni Soup. Boiled Mackerel à la Maitre d'Hôtel. Fried Smelts. ENTREES. Scollops of Fowl. Lobster Pudding. SECOND COURSE. Boiled Leg of Lamb and Spinach. Roast Sirloin of Beef and Horseradish Sauce. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Leveret. Salad. Soufflé of Rice. Ramekins. Strawberry-jam Tartlets. Orange Jelly. DESSERT. 1981.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (May).--III. FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Trout with Dutch Sauce. Salmon Cutlets. ENTREES. Lamb Cutlets and Mushrooms. Vol-au-Vent of Chicken. SECOND COURSE. Roast Lamb. Calf's Head à la Tortue. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Spring Chickens. Iced Pudding. Vanilla Cream. Clear Jelly. Tartlets. Cheesecakes. DESSERT. 1982.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (May).--IV. FIRST COURSE. Soup à la Reine. Crimped Trout and Lobster Sauce. Baked Whitings aux Fines Herbes. ENTREES. Braised Mutton Cutlets and Cucumbers. Stewed Pigeons. SECOND COURSE. Roast Fillet of Veal. Bacon-cheek and Greens. Fillet of Beef à la Jardinière. THIRD COURSE. Ducklings. Soufflé à la Vanille. Compôte of Oranges. Meringues. Gooseberry Tart. Fondue. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR MAY. 1983. _Sunday_.--1. Vegetable soup. 2. Saddle of mutton, asparagus and potatoes. 3. Gooseberry tart, custards. 1984. _Monday_.--1. Fried whitings, anchovy sauce. 2. Cold mutton, mashed potatoes, stewed veal. 3. Fig pudding. 1985. _Tuesday_.--1. Haricot mutton, made from remains of cold mutton, rump-steak pie. 2. Macaroni. 1986. _Wednesday_.--1. Roast loin of veal and spinach, boiled bacon, mutton cutlets and tomato sauce. 2. Gooseberry pudding and cream. 1987. _Thursday_.--1. Spring soup. 2. Roast leg of lamb, mint sauce, spinach, curried veal and rice. 3. Lemon pudding. 1988. _Friday_.--1. Boiled mackerel and parsley-and-butter. 2. Stewed rump-steak, cold lamb and salad. 3. Baked gooseberry pudding. 1989. _Saturday_.--1. Vermicelli. 2. Rump-steak pudding, lamb cutlets, and cucumbers. 3. Macaroni. * * * * * 1990. _Sunday_.--1. Boiled salmon and lobster or caper sauce. 2. Roast lamb, mint sauce, asparagus, potatoes. 3. Plum-pudding, gooseberry tart. 1991. _Monday_.--1. Salmon warmed in remains of lobster sauce and garnished with croûtons. 2. Stewed knuckle of veal and rice, cold lamb and dressed cucumber. 3. Slices of pudding warmed, and served with sugar sprinkled over. Baked rice pudding. 1992. _Tuesday_.--1. Roast ribs of beef, horseradish sauce, Yorkshire pudding, spinach and potatoes. 2. Boiled lemon pudding. 1993. _Wednesday_.--1. Fried soles, melted butter. 2. Cold beef and dressed cucumber or salad, veal cutlets and bacon. 3. Baked plum-pudding. 1994. _Thursday_.--1. Spring soup. 2. Calf's liver and bacon, broiled beef-bones, spinach and potatoes. 3. Gooseberry tart. 1995. _Friday_.--1. Roast shoulder of mutton, baked potatoes, onion sauce, spinach. 2. Currant dumplings. 1996. _Saturday_.--1. Broiled mackerel, fennel sauce or plain melted butter. 2. Rump-steak pie, hashed mutton, vegetables. 3. Baked arrowroot pudding. JUNE. 1997.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course_. Asparagus Soup, removed by Crimped Salmon. Fillets of Garnets. Vase of Soles aux fines herbes. Flowers. Vermicelli Soup, removed by Whitebait. _Entrées_. Lamb Cutlets and Peas. Lobster Patties. Vase of Tendrons de Veau Flowers. à la Jardinière. Larded Sweetbreads. _Second Course_. Saddle of Lamb. Tongue. Roast Spring Vase of Boiled Capon. Chickens. Flowers. Ham. Boiled Calf's Head. _Third Course_. Prawns. Leveret, Tartlets. removed by Ice Pudding. Wine Jelly. Vol-au-Vent of Straw- Vase of Custards in berries and Cream. Flowers. glasses. Blancmange. Goslings, removed by Cheesecake Fondues, in cases. Plover's Eggs. DESSERT AND ICES. 1998.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (June). FIRST COURSE. Green-Pea Soup. Rice Soup. Salmon and Lobster Sauce. Trout à la Genévése. Whitebait. ENTREES. Lamb Cutlets and Cucumbers. Fricasseed Chicken. Lobster Rissoles. Stewed Veal and Peas. SECOND COURSE. Roast Quarter of Lamb and Spinach. Filet de Boeuf à la Jardinière. Boiled Fowls. Braised Shoulder of Lamb. Tongue. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Goslings. Ducklings. Nesselrode Pudding. Charlotte à la Parisienne. Gooseberry Tartlets. Strawberry Cream. Raspberry-and-Currant Tart. Custards. DESSERT AND ICES. 1999.--DINNER FOR 10 PERSONS (June). FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Salmon Trout and Parsley-and-Butter. Red Mullet. ENTREES. Stewed Breast of Veal and Peas. Mutton Cutlets à la Maintenon. SECOND COURSE. Roast Fillet of Veal. Boiled Leg of Lamb, garnished with young Carrots. Boiled Bacon-cheek. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Ducks. Leveret. Gooseberry Tart. Strawberry Cream. Strawberry Tartlets, Meringues. Cabinet Pudding. Iced Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2000.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (June). FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Trout à la Genévése Salmon Cutlets. ENTREES. Lamb Cutlets and Peas. Fricasseed Chicken. SECOND COURSE. Roast Ribs of Beef. Half Calf's Head, Tongue, and Brains. Boiled Ham. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Ducks. Compôte of Gooseberries. Strawberry Jelly. Pastry. Iced Pudding. Cauliflower with Cream Sauce. DESSERT AND ICES. 2001.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (June).--I. FIRST COURSE. Spring Soup. Boiled Salmon and Lobster Sauce. ENTREES. Veal Cutlets and Endive. Ragoût of Duck and Green Peas. SECOND COURSE. Roast Loin of Veal. Boiled Leg of Lamb and White Sauce. Tongue, garnished. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Strawberry Cream. Gooseberry Tartlets. Almond Pudding. Lobster Salad. DESSERT. 2002.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (JUNE).--II. FIRST COURSE. Calf's-Head Soup. Mackerel à la Maître d'Hôtel. Whitebait. ENTREES. Chicken Cutlets. Curried Lobster. SECOND COURSE. Fore-quarter of Lamb and Salad. Stewed Beef à la Jardinière. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Goslings. Green-Currant Tart. Custards, in glasses. Strawberry Blancmange. Soufflé of Rice. DESSERT. 2003.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (JUNE).--III. FIRST COURSE. Green-Pea Soup. Baked Soles aux fines herbes. Stewed Trout. ENTREES. Calf's Liver and Bacon. Rissoles. SECOND COURSE. Roast Saddle of Lamb and Salad. Calf's Head à la Tortue. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Ducks. Vol-au-Vent of Strawberries and Cream. Strawberry Tartlets. Lemon Blancmange. Baked Gooseberry Pudding. DESSERT. 2004.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (JUNE).--IV. FIRST COURSE. Spinach Soup. Soles à la Crême. Red Mullet. ENTREES. Roast Fillet of Veal. Braised Ham and Spinach. SECOND COURSE. Boiled Fowls and White Sauce. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Leveret. Strawberry Jelly. Swiss Cream. Cheesecakes. Iced Pudding. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR JUNE. 2005. _Sunday_.--1. Salmon trout and parsley-and-butter, new potatoes. 2. Roast fillet of veal, boiled bacon-cheek and spinach, vegetables. 3. Gooseberry tart, custards. 2006. _Monday_.--1. Light gravy soup. 2. Small meat pie, minced veal, garnished with rolled bacon, spinach and potatoes. 3. Raspberry-and-currant tart. 2007. _Tuesday_.--1. Baked mackerel, potatoes. 2. Boiled leg of lamb, garnished with young carrots. 3. Lemon pudding. 2008. _Wednesday_.--1. Vegetable soup. 2. Calf's liver and bacon, peas, hashed lamb from remains of cold joint. 3. Baked gooseberry pudding. 2009. _Thursday_--1. Roast ribs of beef, Yorkshire pudding, peas, potatoes. 2. Stewed rhubarb and boiled rice. 2010. _Friday_.--1. Cold beef and salad, lamb cutlets and peas. 2. Boiled gooseberry pudding and baked custard pudding. 2011. _Saturday_.--1. Rump-steak pudding, broiled beef-bones and cucumber, vegetables. 2. Bread pudding. * * * * * 2012. _Sunday_.--1. Roast fore-quarter of lamb, mint sauce, peas, and new potatoes. 2. Gooseberry pudding, strawberry tartlets. Fondue. 2013. _Monday_.--1. Cold lamb and salad, stewed neck of veal and peas, young carrots, and new potatoes. 2. Almond pudding. 2014. _Tuesday_.--1. Green-pea soup. 2. Roast ducks stuffed, gravy, peas and new potatoes. 3. Baked ratafia pudding. 2015. _Wednesday_.--1. Roast leg of mutton, summer cabbage, potatoes. 2. Gooseberry and rice pudding. 2016. _Thursday_.--1. Fried soles, melted butter, potatoes. 2. Sweetbreads, hashed mutton, vegetables. 3. Bread-and-butter pudding. 2017. _Friday_.--1. Asparagus soup. 2. Boiled beef, young carrots and new potatoes, suet dumplings. 3. College puddings. 2018. _Saturday_.--1. Cold boiled beef and salad, lamb cutlets and green peas. 2. Boiled gooseberry pudding and plain cream. JULY. 2019.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course_. Green-Pea Soup, removed by Salmon and dressed Cucumber. Whitebait. Vase of Stewed Trout Flowers. Soup à la Reine, removed by Mackerel à la Maitre d'Hôtel. _Entrées_ Lamb Cutlets and Peas. Lobster Curry Vase of Scollops of en Casserole. Flowers. Chickens. Chicken Patties. _Second Course_. Haunch of Venison. Pigeon Pie. Boiled Capons. Vase of Spring Chickens. Flowers. Braised Ham. Saddle of Lamb. _Third Course_. Prawns. Roast Ducks, Custards. removed by Vanilla Soufflé. Raspberry Cream. Cherry Tart. Vase of Raspberry-and- Flowers. Currant Tart. Strawberry Cream. Green Goose, removed by Creams. Iced Pudding. Tartlets. DESSERT AND ICES. 2020.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (July). FIRST COURSE. Soup à la Jardinière. Chicken Soup. Crimped Salmon and Parsley-and-Butter. Trout aux fines herbes, in cases. ENTREES. Tendrons de Veau and Peas. Lamb Cutlets and Cucumbers. SECOND COURSE. Loin of Veal à la Béchamel. Roast Fore-quarter of Lamb. Salad. Braised Ham, garnished with Broad Beans. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Ducks. Turkey Poult. Stewed Peas à la Francaise. Lobster Salad. Cherry Tart. Raspberry-and-Currant Tart. Custards, in glasses. Lemon Creams. Nesselrode Pudding. Marrow Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2021.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (July) FIRST COURSE. Green-Pea Soup. Salmon and Lobster Sauce. Crimped Perch and Dutch Sauce. ENTREES. Stewed Veal and Peas. Lamb Cutlets and Cucumbers. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Venison. Boiled Fowls à la Béchamel. Braised Ham. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Ducks. Peas à la Française. Lobster Salad. Strawberry Cream. Blancmange. Cherry Tart. Cheesecakes. Iced Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2022.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (July).--I. FIRST COURSE. Soup à la Jardinière. Salmon Trout and Parsley-and-Butter. Fillets of Mackerel à la Maître d'Hôtel. ENTREES. Lobster Cutlets. Beef Palates à la Italienne. SECOND COURSE. Roast Lamb. Boiled Capon and White Sauce. Boiled Tongue, garnished with small Vegetable Marrows. Bacon and Beans. THIRD COURSE. Goslings. Whipped Strawberry Cream. Raspberry-and-Currant Tart. Meringues. Cherry Tartlets. Iced Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2023.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (July).--II. FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Crimped Salmon and Caper Sauce. Whitebait. ENTREES. Croquettes à la Reine. Curried Lobster. SECOND COURSE. Roast Lamb. Rump of Beef à la Jardinière. THIRD COURSE. Larded Turkey Poult. Raspberry Cream. Cherry Tart. Custards, in glasses. Gâteaux à la Genévése. Nesselrode Pudding. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR JULY. 2024. _Sunday_.--1. Salmon trout and parsley-and-butter. 2. Roast fillet of real, boiled bacon-cheek, peas, potatoes. 3. Raspberry-and-currant tart, baked custard pudding. 2025. _Monday_.--1. Green-pea soup. 2. Roast fowls garnished with water-cresses; gravy, bread sauce; cold veal and salad. 3. Cherry tart. 2026. _Tuesday_.--1. John dory and lobster sauce. 2. Curried fowl with remains of cold fowls, dish of rice, veal rolls with remains of cold fillet. 3. Strawberry cream. 2027. _Wednesday_.--1. Roast leg of mutton, vegetable marrow, and potatoes, melted butter. 2. Black-currant pudding. 2028. _Thursday_.--1. Fried soles, anchovy sauce. 2. Mutton cutlets and tomato sauce, bashed mutton, peas, potatoes. 3. Lemon dumplings. 2029. _Friday_.--1. Boiled brisket of beef, carrots, turnips, suet dumplings, peas, potatoes. 2. Baked semolina pudding. 2030. _Saturday_.--1. Cold beef and salad, lamb cutlets and peas. 2. Rolled jam pudding. * * * * * 2031. _Sunday_.--1. Julienne soup. 2. Roast lamb, half calf's head, tongue and brains, boiled ham, peas and potatoes. 3. Cherry tart, custards. 2032. _Monday_.--1. Hashed calf's head, cold lamb and salad. 2. Vegetable marrow and white sauce, instead of pudding. 2033. _Tuesday_.--1. Stewed veal, with peas, young carrots, and potatoes. Small meat pie. 2. Raspberry-and-currant pudding. 2034. _Wednesday_.--1. Roast ducks stuffed, gravy, peas, and potatoes; the remains of stewed veal rechauffé. 2. Macaroni served as a sweet pudding. 2035. _Thursday_.--1. Slices of salmon and caper sauce. 2. Boiled knuckle of veal, parsley-and-butter, vegetable marrow and potatoes. 3. Black-currant pudding. 2036. _Friday_.--1. Roast shoulder of mutton, onion sauce, peas and potatoes. 2. Cherry tart, baked custard pudding. 2037. _Saturday_.--1. Minced mutton, Rump-steak-and-kidney pudding. 2. Baked lemon pudding. AUGUST. 2038.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course._ Mock-Turtle Soup, removed by Broiled Salmon and Caper Sauce. Red Mullet. Vase of Perch. Flowers. Soup à la Julienne, removed by Brill and Shrimp Sauce. _Entrées._ Fricandeau de Veau à la Jardinière. Curried Lobster. Vase of Lamb Cutlets à la Purée Flowers. de Pommes de Terre. Fillets of Ducks and Peas. _Second Course._ Haunch of Venison. Ham, garnished. Capon à la Vase of Roast Fowl. Financière Flowers. Leveret Pie. Saddle of Mutton. _Third Course._ Grouse, removed by Cabinet Pudding. Lobster Salad. Fruit Jelly. Cheesecakes. Charlotte à la Vase of Custards. Vanille. Flowers. Raspberry Vol-au-Vent Prawns. Tartlets. of Pears. Larded Peahen, removed by Iced Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2039.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (August) FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Soup à la Reine. Boiled Salmon. Fried Flounders. Trout en Matelot. ENTREES. Stewed Pigeons. Sweetbreads. Ragoût of Ducks. Fillets of Chickens and Mushrooms. SECOND COURSE. Quarter of Lamb. Cotelette de Boeuf à la Jardinière. Roast Fowls and Boiled Tongue. Bacon and Beans. THIRD COURSE. Grouse. Wheatears. Greengage Tart. Whipped Cream. Vol-au-Vent of Plums. Fruit Jelly. Iced Pudding. Cabinet Pudding. DESSERTS AND ICES. 2040.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (August). FIRST COURSE. Julienne Soup. Fillets of Turbot and Dutch Sauce. Red Mullet. ENTREES. Riz de Veau aux Tomates. Fillets of Ducks and Peas. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Venison. Boiled Capon and Oysters. Ham, garnished. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Leveret. Fruit Jelly. Compote of Greengages. Plum Tart. Custards, in glasses. Omelette soufflé. DESSERT AND ICES. 2041.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (August).--I. FIRST COURSE. Macaroni Soup. Crimped Salmon and Sauce Hollandaise. Fried Fillets of Trout. ENTREES. Tendrons de Veau and Stewed Peas. Salmi of Grouse. SECOND COURSE. Roast Loin of Veal. Boiled Bacon, garnished with French Beans. Stewed Beef à la Jardinière. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Turkey Poult. Plum Tart. Custard Pudding. Vol-au-Vent of Pears. Strawberry Cream. Ratafia Soufflé. DESSERT. 2042.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (August).--II. FIRST COURSE. Vegetable-Marrow Soup. Stowed Mullet. Fillets of Salmon and Ravigotte Sauce. ENTREES. Curried Lobster. Fricandeau de Veau à la Jardinière. SECOND COURSE. Roast Saddle of Mutton. Stewed Shoulder of Veal, garnished with Forcemeat Balls. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Grouse and Bread Sauce. Vol-au-Vent of Greengages. Fruit Jolly. Raspberry Cream. Custards. Fig Pudding. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR AUGUST. 2043. _Sunday_.--1. Vegetable-marrow soup. 2. Roast quarter of lamb, mint sauce, French beans and potatoes. 3. Raspberry-and-currant tart, custard pudding. 2044. _Monday_.--1. Cold lamb and salad, small meat pie, vegetable marrow and white sauce. 2. Lemon dumplings. 2045. _Tuesday_.--1. Boiled mackerel. 2. Stewed loin of veal, French beans and potatoes. 3. Baked raspberry pudding. 2046. _Wednesday_.--1. Vegetable soup. 2. Lamb cutlets and French beans; the remains of stewed shoulder of veal, mashed vegetable marrow. 3. Black-currant pudding. 2047. _Thursday_.--1. Roast ribs of beef, Yorkshire pudding, French beans and potatoes. 2. Bread-and-butter pudding. 2048. _Friday_.--1. Fried soles and melted butter. 2. Cold beef and salad, lamb cutlets and mashed potatoes. 3. Cauliflowers and white sauce instead of pudding. 2049. _Saturday_.--1. Stewed beef and vegetables, with remains of cold beef; mutton pudding. 2. Macaroni and cheese. * * * * * 2050. _Sunday_.--1. Salmon pudding. 2. Roast fillet of veal, boiled bacon-cheek garnished with tufts of cauliflowers, French beans and potatoes. 3. Plum tart, boiled custard pudding. 2051. _Monday_.--1. Baked soles. 2. Cold veal and bacon, salad, mutton cutlets and tomato sauce. 3. Boiled currant pudding. 2052. _Tuesday_.--1. Rice soup. 2. Roast fowls and water-cresses, boiled knuckle of ham, minced veal garnished with croutons; vegetables. 3. College puddings. 2053. _Wednesday_.--1. Curried fowl with remains of cold fowl; dish of rice, stewed rump-steak and vegetables. 2. Plum tart. 2054. _Thursday_.--1. Boiled brisket of beef, carrots, turnips, suet dumplings, and potatoes. 2. Baked bread pudding. 2055. _Friday_.--1. Vegetable soup, made from liquor that beef was boiled in. 2. Cold beef and dressed cucumber, veal cutlets and tomato sauce. 3. Fondue. 2056. _Saturday_.--1. Bubble-and-squeak, made from remains of cold beef; cold veal-and-ham pie, salad. 2. Baked raspberry pudding. SEPTEMBER. 2057.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course_. Julienne Soup, removed by Brill and Shrimp Sauce. Red Mullet & Vase of Fried Eels. Italian Sauce. Flowers. Giblet Soup, removed by Salmon and Lobster Sauce. _Entrées_. Lamb Cutlets and French Beans. Fillets of Chicken Vase of Oysters au gratin. and Truffles. Flowers. Sweetbreads and Tomata Sauce. _Second Course_. Saddle of Mutton. Veal-and-Ham Pie. Chickens à la Vase of Braised Goose. Béchamel. Flowers. Broiled Ham, garnished with Cauliflowers. Filet of Veal. _Third Course_. Custards. Partridges, Apple Tart. removed by Plum-pudding. Compôte of Greengages. Noyeau Jelly. Vase of Lemon Cream. Flowers. Pastry Sandwiches. Grouse & Bread Sauce, removed by Plum Tart. Nesselrode Pudding. Custards. DESSERTS AND ICES. 2058.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (September). FIRST COURSE. Mock-Turtle Soup. Soup à la Jardinière Salmon and Lobster Sauce. Fried Whitings. Stewed Eels. ENTREES. Veal Cutlets. Scalloped Oysters. Curried Fowl. Grilled Mushrooms. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Mutton. Boiled Calf's Head à la Béchamel. Braised Ham. Roast Fowls aux Cressons. THIRD COURSE. Leveret. Grouse. Cabinet Pudding. Iced Pudding. Compôte of Plumbs. Damson Tart. Cream. Fruit Jelly. Prawns. Lobster Salad. DESSERTS AND ICES. 2059.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (September). FIRST COURSE. Flemish Soup. Turbot, garnished with Fried Smelts. Red Mullet and Italian Sauce. ENTREES. Tendrons de Veau and Truffles. Lamb Cutlets and Sauce Piquante. SECOND COURSE. Loin of Veal à la Béchamel. Roast Haunch of Venison. Braised Ham. Grouse Pie. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Hare. Plum Tart. Whipped Cream. Punch Jelly. Compôte of Damsons. Marrow Pudding. DESSERT. 2060.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (September). FIRST COURSE. Game Soup. Crimped Skate. Slices of Salmon a la Genévése. ENTREES. Fricasseed Sweetbreads. Savoury Rissoles. SECOND COURSE. Sirloin of Beef and Horseradish Sauce. Boiled Leg of Mutton and Caper Sauce. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Partridges. Charlotte Russe. Apricots and Rice. Fruit Jelly. Cabinet Pudding. DESSERT. 2061.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (September).--II. FIRST COURSE. Thick Gravy Soup. Fillets of Turbot à la Crême. Stewed Eels. ENTREES. Vol-au-Vent of Lobster. Salmi of Grouse. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Venison. Rump of Beef à la Jardinière. Hare, boned and larded, with Mushrooms. THIRD COURSE. Roast Grouse. Apricot Blancmange. Compôte of peaches. Plum Tart. Custards. Plum-pudding. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR SEPTEMBER. 2062. _Sunday_.--1. Julienne soup. 2. Roast ribs of beef, Yorkshire pudding, horseradish sauce, French beans, and potatoes. 3. Greengage pudding, vanilla cream. 2063. _Monday_.--1. Crimped skate and crab sauce. 2. Cold beef and salad; small veal-and-ham pie. 3. Vegetable marrow and white sauce. 2064. _Tuesday_.--1. Fried solos, melted butter. 2. Boiled fowls, parsley-and-butter; bacon-check, garnished with French beans; beef rissoles, made from remains of cold beef. 3. Plum tart and cream. 2065. _Wednesday_.--1. Boiled round of beef, carrots, turnips, and suet dumplings; marrow on toast. 2. Baked damsons and rice. 2066. _Thursday_.--1. Vegetable soup, made from liquor that beef was boiled in. 2. Lamb cutlets and cucumbers, cold beef and salad. 3. Apple pudding. 2067. _Friday_.--1. Baked soles. 2. Bubble-and-squeak, made from cold beef; veal cutlets and rolled bacon. 3. Damson tart. 2068. _Saturday_.--1. Irish stew, rump-steaks and oyster sauce. 2. Somersetshire dumplings. * * * * * 2069. _Sunday_.--1. Fried filleted soles and anchovy sauce. 2. Roast leg of mutton, brown onion sauce, French beans, and potatoes; half calf's head, tongue, and brains. 3. Plum tart; custards, in glasses. 2070. _Monday_.--1. Vegetable-marrow soup. 2. Calf's head à la maitre d'hôtel, from remains of cold head; boiled brisket of beef and vegetables. 3. Stewed fruit and baked rice pudding. 1071. _Tuesday_.--1. Roast fowls and water-cresses; boiled bacon, garnished with tufts of cauliflower; hashed mutton, from remains of mutton of Sunday. 2. Baked plum-pudding. 2072. _Wednesday_.--1. Boiled knuckle of veal and rice, turnips, potatoes; small ham, garnished with French beans. 2. Baked apple pudding. 2073. _Thursday_.--1. Brill and shrimp sauce. 2. Roast hare, gravy, and red-currant jelly; mutton cutlets and mashed potatoes. 3. Scalloped oysters, instead of pudding. 2074. _Friday_.--1. Small roast loin of mutton; the remains of hare, jugged; vegetable marrow and potatoes. 2. Damson pudding. 2075. _Saturday_.--1. Rump-steaks, broiled, and oyster sauce, mashed potatoes; veal-and-ham pie,--the ham may be cut from that boiled on Wednesday, if not all eaten cold for breakfast. 2, Lemon pudding. OCTOBER. 2076.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course_ Mock-Turtle Soup, removed by Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. Soles à la Vase of Red Mullet. Normandie. Flowers. Julienne Soup, removed by John Dory and Dutch Sauce. _Entrées_ Sweetbreads and Tomata Sauce. Oyster Patties. Vase of Stewed Mushrooms. Flowers. Fricandeau de Veau and Celery Sauce. _Second Course._ Roast Saddle of Mutton. Grouse Pie. Roast Goose. Vase of Boiled Fowls and Flowers. Oyster Sauce. Ham. Larded Turkey. _Third Course._ Custards. Pheasants, Prawns. removed by Cabinet Pudding. Italian Cream. Gâteau de Vase of Compôte of Pommes. Flowers. Plums. Peach Jelly. Roast Hare, removed by Lobster Salad. Iced Pudding. Apple Tart. DESSERT AND ICES. 2077.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (OCTOBER). FIRST COURSE. Carrot Soup à la Créci. Soup à la Reine. Baked Cod. Stewed Eels. ENTREES. Riz de Veau and Tomata Sauce. Vol-au-Vent of Chicken. Pork Cutlets and Sauce Robert. Grilled Mushrooms. SECOND COURSE. Rump of Beef à la Jardinière. Roast Goose. Boiled Fowls and Celery Sauce. Tongue, garnished. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Grouse. Pheasants. Quince Jelly. Lemon Cream. Apple Tart. Compote of Peaches. Nesselrode Pudding. Cabinet Pudding. Scalloped Oysters. DESSERT AND ICES. 2078.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (October). FIRST COURSE. Calf's-Head Soup. Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. Stewed Eels. ENTREES. Stewed Mutton Kidneys. Curried Sweetbreads. SECOND COURSE. Boiled Leg of Mutton, garnished with Carrots and Turnips. Roast Goose. THIRD COURSE. Partridges. Fruit Jelly. Italian Cream. Vol-au-Vent of Pears. Apple Tart. Cabinet Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2079.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (October).--I. FIRST COURSE. Hare Soup. Broiled Cod à la Maître d'Hôtel. Haddocks and Egg Sauce. ENTREES. Veal Cutlets, garnished with French Beans. Haricot Mutton. SECOND COURSE. Roast Haunch of Mutton. Boiled Capon and Rice. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Pheasants. Punch Jelly. Blancmange. Apples à la Portugaise. Charlotte à la Vanille. Marrow Pudding. DESSERT. 2080.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (October).--II. FIRST COURSE. Mock-Turtle Soup. Brill and Lobster Sauce. Fried Whitings. ENTREES. Fowl à la Béchamel. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Roast Sucking-Pig. Stewed Hump of Beef à la Jardinière. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Grouse. Charlotte aux Pommes. Coffee Cream. Cheesecakes. Apricot Tart. Iced Pudding. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR OCTOBER. 2081. _Sunday_.--1. Roast sucking-pig, tomata sauce and brain sauce; small boiled leg of mutton, caper sauce, turnips, and carrots. 2. Damson tart, boiled batter pudding. 2082. _Monday_.--1. Vegetable soup, made from liquor that mutton was boiled in. 2. Sucking-pig en blanquette, small meat pie, French beans, and potatoes. 3. Pudding, pies. 2083. _Tuesday_.--1. Roast partridges, bread sauce, and gravy; slices of mutton warmed in caper sauce; vegetables. 2. Baked plum-pudding. 2084. _Wednesday_.--1. Roast ribs of beef, Yorkshire pudding, vegetable marrow, and potatoes. 2. Damson pudding. 2085. _Thursday_.--1. Fried soles, melted butter. 2. Cold beef and salad; mutton cutlets and tomata sauce. 3. Macaroni. 2086. _Friday_.--1. Carrot soup. 2. Boiled fowls and celery sauce; bacon-check, garnished with greens; beef rissoles, from remains of cold beef. 3. Baroness pudding. 2087. _Saturday_.--1. Curried fowl, from remains of cold ditto; dish of rice, Rump-steak-and-kidney pudding, vegetables. 2. Stewed pears and sponge cakes. * * * * * 2088. _Sunday_.--1. Crimped cod and oyster sauce. 2. Roast haunch of mutton, brown onion sauce, and vegetables. 3. Bullace pudding, baked custards in cups. 2089. _Monday_.--1. The remains of codfish, flaked, and warmed in a maître d'hôtel sauce. 2. Cold mutton and salad, veal cutlets and rolled bacon, French beans and potatoes. 3. Arrowroot blancmange and stewed damsons. 2090. _Tuesday_.--1. Roast hare, gravy, and red-currant jelly; hashed mutton, vegetables. 2. Currant dumplings. 2091. _Wednesday_.--1. Jugged hare, from remains of roast ditto; boiled knuckle of veal and rice; boiled bacon-cheek. 2. Apple pudding. 2092. _Thursday_.--1. Roast leg of pork, apple sauce, greens, and potatoes. 2. Rice snowballs. 2093. _Friday_.--1. Slices of pork, broiled, and tomata sauce, mashed potatoes; roast pheasants, bread sauce, and gravy. 2. Baked apple pudding. 2094. _Saturday_.--1. Rump-steak pie, sweetbreads. 2. Ginger pudding. NOVEMBER. 2095.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course._ Thick Grouse Soup, removed by Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. Baked Whitings. Vase of Fried Smelts. Flowers. Clear Ox-tail Soup, removed by Fillets of Turbot à la Crême. _Entrées._ Poulet à la Marengo. Fillets of Leveret. Vase of Ragoût of Lobster. Flowers. Mushrooms sautés. _Second Course._ Haunch of Mutton. Cold Game Pie. Lark Pudding. Vase of Roast Fowls. Flowers. Boiled Ham. Boiled Turkey and Celery Sauce. _Third Course._ Apple Tart. Partridges, Shell-Fish. removed by Plum-pudding. Wine Jelly. Pommes à la Vase of Vol-au-Vent Condé. Flowers. of Pears. Snipes, removed by Prawns. Charlotte glacée. Apricot Tartlets. DESSERT AND ICES. 2096.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (November). FIRST COURSE. Hare Soup. Julienne Soup. Baked Cod. Soles à la Normandie. ENTREES. Riz de Veau aux Tomates. Lobster Patties. Mutton Cutlets and Soubise Sauce. Croûtades of Marrow aux fines herbes. SECOND COURSE. Roast Sirloin of Beef. Braised Goose. Boiled Fowls and Celery Sauce. Bacon-cheek, garnished with Sprouts. THIRD COURSE. Wild Ducks. Partridges. Apples à la Portugaise. Bavarian Cream. Apricot-jam Sandwiches. Cheesecakes. Charlotte à la Vanille. Plum-pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2097.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (NOVEMBER). FIRST COURSE. Mulligatawny Soup. Fried slices of Codfish and Oyster Sauce. Eels en Matelote. ENTREES. Broiled Pork Cutlets and Tomata Sauce. Tendrons de Veau à la Jardinière. SECOND COURSE. Boiled Leg of Mutton and Vegetables. Roast Goose. Cold Game Pie. THIRD COURSE. Snipes. Teal. Apple Soufflé. Iced Charlotte. Tartlets. Champagne Jelly. Coffee Cream. Mince Pies. DESSERT AND ICES. 2098.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (NOVEMBER). FIRST COURSE. Oyster Soup. Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. Fried Perch and Dutch Sauce. ENTREES. Pigs' Feet à la Béchamel. Curried Rabbit. SECOND COURSE. Roast Sucking-Pig. Boiled Fowls and Oyster Sauce. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Jugged Hare. Meringues à la Crême. Apple Custard. Vol-au-Vent of Pears. Whipped Cream. Cabinet Pudding. DESSERT. 2099.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (NOVEMBER).--II. FIRST COURSE. Game Soup. Slices of Codfish and Dutch Sauce. Fried Eels. ENTREES. Kidneys à la Maître d'Hôtel. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Saddle of Mutton. Boiled Capon and Rice. Small Ham. Lark Pudding. THIRD COURSE. Roast Hare. Apple Tart. Pineapple Cream. Clear Jelly. Cheesecakes. Marrow Pudding. Nesselrode Pudding. DESSERT. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR NOVEMBER. 2100. _Sunday_.--1. White soup. 2. Roast haunch of mutton, haricot beans, potatoes. 3. Apple tart, ginger pudding. 2101. _Monday._--1. Stewed eels. 2. Veal cutlets garnished with rolled bacon; cold mutton and winter salad. 3. Baked rice pudding. 2102. _Tuesday_.--1. Roast fowls, garnished with water-cresses; boiled bacon-cheek; hashed mutton from remains of haunch. 2. Apple pudding. 2103. _Wednesday_.--1. Boiled leg of pork, carrots, parsnips, and pease-pudding; fowl croquettes made with remainder of cold fowl. 2. Baroness pudding. 2104. _Thursday_.--1. Cold pork and mashed potatoes; roast partridges, bread sauce and gravy. 2. The remainder of pudding cut into neat slices, and warmed through, and served with sifted sugar sprinkled over; apple fritters. 2105. _Friday_.--1. Roast hare, gravy, and currant jelly; rump-steak and oyster sauce; vegetables. 2. Macaroni. 2106. _Saturday_.--1. Jugged hare; small mutton pudding. 2. Fig pudding. * * * * * 2107. _Sunday_.--1. Crimped cod and oyster sauce. 2. Roast fowls, small boiled ham, vegetables; rump-steak pie. 3. Baked apple pudding, open jam tart. 2108. _Monday_.--1. The remainder of cod warmed in maître d'hôtel sauce. 2. Boiled aitchbone of beef, carrots, parsnips, suet dumplings. 3. Baked bread-and-butter pudding. 2109. _Tuesday_.--1. Pea-soup, made from liquor in which beef was boiled. 2. Cold beef, mashed potatoes; mutton cutlets and tomata sauce. 3. Carrot pudding. 2110. _Wednesday_.--1. Fried soles and melted butter. 2. Roast leg of pork, apple sauce, vegetables. 3. Macaroni with Parmesan cheese. 2111. _Thursday_.--1. Bubble-and-squeak from remains of cold beef; curried pork. 2. Baked Semolina pudding. 2112. _Friday_.--1. Roast leg of mutton, stewed Spanish onions, potatoes. 2. Apple tart. 2113. _Saturday_.--1. Hashed mutton; boiled rabbit and onion sauce; vegetables. 2. Damson pudding made with bottled fruit. DECEMBER. 2114.--DINNER FOR 18 PERSONS. _First Course_. Mock-Turtle Soup, removed by Cod's Head and Shoulders and Oyster Sauce. Stewed Eels. Vase of Fried Whitings. Flowers. Julienne Soup, removed by Soles aux fines herbes. _Entrées_. Fillets of Grouse and Sauce Piquante. Curried Lobster. Vase of Mutton Cutlets and Flowers. Soubise Sauce. Sweetbreads. _Second Course_. Haunch of Mutton. Ham and Brussels Sprouts. Roast Goose. Vase of Stewed Beef à la Flowers. Jardinière. Game Pie. Boiled Turkey and Celery Sauce. _Third Course_. Apricot Torte. Pheasants, Victoria removed by Sandwiches. Plum-pudding. Vanilla Cream. Lemon Jelly. Vase of Champagne Jelly. Flowers. Blancmange. Wild Ducks, removed by Tipsy Cake. Iced Pudding. Mince Pies. DESSERT AND ICES. 2115.--DINNER FOR 12 PERSONS (December). FIRST COURSE. Game Soup. Clear Vermicelli Soup. Codfish au gratin. Fillets of Whitings à la Maître d'Hôtel. ENTREES. Filet de Boeuf and Sauce Piquante. Fricasseed Chicken. Oyster Patties. Curried Rabbit. SECOND COURSE. Roast Turkey and Sausages. Boiled Leg of Pork and Vegetables. Roast Goose. Stewed Beef à la Jardinière. THIRD COURSE. Widgeon. Partridges. Charlotte aux Pommes. Mince Pies. Orange Jelly. Lemon Cream. Apple Tart. Cabinet Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2116.--DINNER FOR 10 PERSONS (December). FIRST COURSE. Mulligatawny Soup. Fried Slices of Codfish. Soles à la Crême. ENTREES. Croquettes of Fowl. Pork Cutlets and Tomata Sauce. SECOND COURSE. Roast Ribs of Beef. Boiled Turkey and Celery Sauce. Tongue, garnished. Lark Pudding. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Roast Hare. Grouse. Plum-pudding. Mince Pies. Charlotte à la Parisienne. Cheesecakes. Apple Tart. Nesselrode Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2117.--DINNER FOR 8 PERSONS (December). FIRST COURSE. Carrot Soup. Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. Baked Soles. ENTREES. Mutton Kidneys à la Française. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Boiled Beef and Vegetables. Marrow-bones. Roast Fowls and Water-cresses Tongue, garnished. Game Pie. THIRD COURSE. Partridges. Blancmange. Compôte of Apples. Vol-au-Vent of Pears. Almond Cheesecakes. Lemon Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. 2118.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (December).--I. FIRST COURSE. Rabbit Soup. Brill and Shrimp Sauce. ENTREES. Curried Fowl. Oyster Patties. SECOND COURSE. Roast Turkey and Sausages. Boiled Leg of Pork. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Hunters' Pudding. Lemon Cheesecakes. Apple Tart. Custards, in glasses. Raspberry Cream. DESSERT. 2119.--DINNER FOR, 6 PERSONS (December).--II. FIRST COURSE. Ox-tail Soup. Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. ENTREES. Savoury Rissoles. Fowl Scollops à la Béchamel. SECOND COURSE. Haunch of Mutton. Boiled Chickens and Celery Sauce. Bacon-cheek, garnished with Brussels Sprouts. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Snipes. Orange Jelly. Cheesecakes. Apples à la Portugaise. Apricot-jam Tartlets. Soufflé of Rice. DESSERT. 2120.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (December).--III. FIRST COURSE. Vermicelli Soup. Soles à la Maître d'Hôtel. Fried Eels. ENTREES. Pork Cutlets and Tomato Sauce. Ragoût of Mutton à la Jardinière. SECOND COURSE. Roast Goose. Boiled Leg of Mutton and Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Pheasants. Whipped Cream. Meringues. Compôte of Normandy Pippins. Mince Pies. Plum-pudding. Dessert. 2121.--DINNER FOR 6 PERSONS (December).--IV. FIRST COURSE. Carrot Soup. Baked Cod. Fried Smelts. ENTREES. Stewed Rump-steak à la Jardinière. Fricasseed Chicken. SECOND COURSE. Roast Leg of Mutton, boned and stuffed. Boiled Turkey and Oyster Sauce. Vegetables. THIRD COURSE. Wild Ducks. Fancy Pastry. Lemon Cream. Damson Tart, with bottled fruit. Custards, in glasses. Cabinet Pudding. Dessert. PLAIN FAMILY DINNERS FOR DECEMBER. 2122. _Sunday_.--1. Carrot soup. 2. Roast beef, horseradish sauce, vegetables. 3. Plum-pudding, mince pies. 2123. _Monday._--1. Fried whitings, melted butter. 2. Rabbit pie, cold beef, mashed potatoes. 3. Plum-pudding cut in slices and warmed; apple tart. 2124. _Tuesday_.--1. Hashed beef and broiled bones, pork cutlets and tomata sauce; vegetables. 2. Baked lemon pudding. 2125. _Wednesday_.--1. Boiled neck of mutton and vegetables; the broth served first with a little pearl barley or rice boiled in it 2. Bakewell pudding. 2126. _Thursday_.--1. Roast leg of pork, apple sauce, vegetables. 2. Rice snowballs. 2127. _Friday_.--1. Soles à la Crime. 2. Cold pork and mashed potatoes, broiled rump-steaks and oyster sauce. 3. Rolled jam pudding. 2128. _Saturday_.--1. The remains of cold pork curried, dish of rice, mutton cutlets, and mashed potatoes. 2. Baked apple dumplings. * * * * * 2129. _Sunday_.--1. Roast turkey and sausages, boiled leg of pork, pease pudding, vegetables. 2. Baked apple pudding, mince pies. 2130. _Monday_.--1. Hashed turkey, cold pork, mashed potatoes. 2. Mince-meat pudding. 2131. _Tuesday_.--1. Pea-soup made from liquor in which pork was boiled. 2. Boiled fowls and celery sauce, vegetables. 3. Baked rice pudding. 2132. _Wednesday_.--1. Roast leg of mutton, stewed Spanish onions, potatoes. 2. Baked rolled jam pudding. 2133. _Thursday_.--1. Baked cod's head. 2. Cold mutton, roast hare, gravy and red-currant jelly. 3. Macaroni. 2134. _Friday_.--1. Hare soup, made with stock and remains of roast hare. 2. Hashed mutton, pork cutlets, and mashed potatoes. 3. Open tarts, rice blancmange. 2135. _Saturday_.--1. Rump-steak-and-kidney pudding, vegetables. 2. Mince pies, baked apple dumplings. 2136.--BILL OF FARE FOR A GAME DINNER FOR 30 PERSONS (November). _First course_. Hare Soup. Purée of Grouse. Vase of Pheasant Soup. Flowers. Soup á la Reine. _Entrées_. Salmi of Fillets of Hare Salmi of Widgeon. en Chevereuil. Woodcock. Perdrixaux Choux. Lark Pudding. Vase of Game Patties. Flowers. Curried Rabbit. Salmi of Fillet of Pheasant Salmi of Woodcock. and Truffles. Widgeon. _Second Course_. Larded Pheasants. Leveret, larded and stuffed. Cold Pheasant Pie Vase of Hot raised Pie of á la Périgord. Flowers. mixed Game. Grouse. Larded Partridges. _Third Course_. Snipes. Pintails. Ortolans. Quails. Golden Vase of Widgeon. Plovers. Flowers. Teal. Wild Duck. Woodcock. Snipes. _Entremets and Removes_. Apricot Boudin à la Nesselrode. Maids of Tart. Honour. Dantzic Jelly. Vol-au-Vent Vase of Gâteau. of Pears. Flowers. Génoise glacé. Charlotte Russe. Maids of Plum Pudding. Compôte of Honour. Apples. _Dessert._ Olives. Strawberry-Ice Figs. Cream. Preserved Pineapples. Dried Cherries. Fruit. Grapes. Filberts. Pears. Walnuts. Wafers. Biscuits. Ginger-Ice Cream. Vase of Orange-Water Ice. Flowers. Apples. Dried Grapes. Preserved Fruit. Cherries. Pears. Figs. Lemon-Water Ice. Olives. MENU. 2137.--SERVICE A LA RUSSE (July). Julienne Soup. Vermicelli Soup. Boiled Salmon. Turbot and Lobster Sauce. Soles-Water Souchy. Perch-Water Souchy. Matelote d'Anguilles à la Toulouse. Filets de Soles à la Normandie. Red Mullet. Trout. Lobster Rissoles. Whitebait. Riz de Veau à la Banquière. Filets de Poulets aux Coucombres. Canards à la Rouennaise. Mutton Cutlets à la Jardinière. Braised Beef à la Flamande. Spring Chickens. Roast Quarter of Lamb. Roast Saddle of Mutton. Tongue. Ham and Peas. Quails, larded. Roast Ducks. Turkey Poult, larded. Mayonnaise of Chicken. Tomatas. Green Peas à la Française. Suédoise of Strawberries. Charlotte Russe. Compôte of Cherries. Neapolitan Cakes. Pastry. Madeira Wine Jelly. Iced Pudding à la Nesselrode. DESSERT AND ICES. _Note._--Dinners à la Russe differ from ordinary dinners in the mode of serving the various dishes. In a dinner à la Russe, the dishes are cut up on a sideboard, and handed round to the guests, and each dish may be considered a course. The table for a dinner à la Russe should be laid with flowers and plants in fancy flowerpots down the middle, together with some of the dessert dishes. A menu or bill of fare should be laid by the side of each guest. MENU. 2138.--SERVICE A LA RUSSE (November). Ox-tail Soup. Soup à la Jardinière. Turbot and Lobster Sauce. Crimped Cod and Oyster Sauce. Stewed Eels. Soles à la Normandie. Pike and Cream Sauce. Fried Filleted Soles. Filets de Boeuf à la Jardinière. Croquettes of Game aux Champignons. Chicken Cutlets. Mutton Cutlets and Tomata Sauce. Lobster Rissoles. Oyster Patties. Partridges aux fines herbes. Larded Sweetbreads. Roast Beef. Poulets aux Cressons. Haunch of Mutton. Roast Turkey. Boiled Turkey and Celery Sauce. Ham. Grouse. Pheasants. Hare. Salad. Artichokes. Stewed Celery. Italian Cream. Charlotte aux Pommes. Compôte of Pears. Croûtes madrées aux Fruits. Pastry. Punch Jelly. Iced Pudding. DESSERT AND ICES. _Note._--Dinners à la Russe are scarcely suitable for small establishments; a large number of servants being required to carve; and to help the guests; besides there being a necessity for more plates, dishes, knives, forks, and spoons, than are usually to be found in any other than a very large establishment. Where, however, a service à la Russe is practicable, there it, perhaps, no mode of serving a dinner so enjoyable as this. SUPPERS. 2139. Much may be done in the arrangement of a supper-table, at a very small expense, provided _taste_ and _ingenuity_ are exercised. The colours and flavours of the various dishes should contrast nicely; there should be plenty of fruit and flowers on the table, and the room should be well lighted. We have endeavoured to show how the various dishes may be placed; but of course these little matters entirely depend on the length and width of the table used, on individual taste, whether the tables are arranged round the room, whether down the centre, with a cross one at the top, or whether the supper is laid in two separate rooms, &c. &c. The garnishing of the dishes has also much to do with the appearance of a supper-table. Hams and tongues should be ornamented with cut vegetable flowers, raised pies with aspic jelly cut in dice, and all the dishes garnished sufficiently to be in good taste without looking absurd. The eye, in fact, should be as much gratified as the palate. Hot soup is now often served at suppers, but is not placed on the table. The servants fill the plates from a tureen on the buffet, and then hand them to the guests: when these plates are removed, the business of supper commences. 2140. Where small rooms and large parties necessitate having a standing supper, many things enumerated in the following bill of fare may be placed on the buffet. Dishes for these suppers should be selected which may be eaten standing without any trouble. The following list may, perhaps, assist our readers in the arrangement of a buffet for a standing supper. 2141. Beef, ham, and tongue sandwiches, lobster and oyster patties, sausage rolls, meat rolls, lobster salad, dishes of fowls, the latter _all cut up_; dishes of sliced ham, sliced tongue, sliced beef, and galantine of veal; various jellies, blancmanges, and creams; custards in glasses, compôtes of fruit, tartlets of jam, and several dishes of small fancy pastry; dishes of fresh fruit, bonbons, sweetmeats, two or three sponge cakes, a few plates of biscuits, and the buffet ornamented with vases of fresh or artificial flowers. The above dishes are quite sufficient for a standing supper; where more are desired, a supper must then be laid and arranged in the usual manner. 2142.--BILL OF FARE FOR A BALL SUPPER FOR 60 PERSONS (For Winter) Boar's Head, garnished with Aspic Jelly. Lobster Salad Lobster Salad. Fruited Jelly. Mayonnaise of Fowl. Charlotte Russe. Small Ham, garnished. Small Pastry. Iced Savoy Cake. Biscuits. Vanilla Cream EPERGNE, WITH FRUIT. Fruited Jelly. Two Roast Fowls, cut up. Two Roast Fowls, cut up. Prawns Two Boiled Fowls, with Béchamel Prawns Sauce. Biscuits Small Pastry Tongue, ornamented. Custards, TRIFLE, ORNAMENTED. Custards, in glasses. in glasses. Raised Chicken Pie. Tipsy Cake Lobster Salad. Lobster Salad. Fruited Jelly. Swiss Cream. Roast Pheasant. Meringues. EPERGNE, WITH FRUIT. Meringues. Raspberry Cream. Galantine of Veal. Fruited Jelly. Tipsy Cake. Small Pastry. Biscuits. Raised Game Pie. Custards, TRIFLE, ORNAMENTED Custards, in glasses. in glasses. Two Roast Fowls, cut up. Two Roast Fowls, cut up. Tongue, ornamented. Prawns. Prawns. Two Boiled Fowls, with Béchamel Sauce. Biscuits. Small Pastry. EPERGNE, WITH FRUIT. Lobster Salad. Lobster Salad. Fruited Jelly. Iced Savoy Cake. Blancmange. Small Ham, garnished. Mayonnaise of Fowl. Charlotte Russe. Fruited Jelly. Larded Capon. _Note:_ When soup is served from the buffet, Mock Turtle and Julienne may be selected. Besides the articles enumerated above, Ices, Wafers, Biscuits, Tea, Coffee, Wines and Liqueurs will be required. Punch a la Romaine may also be added to the list of beverages. 2143.--BILL OF FARE FOR A BALL SUPPER, Or a Cold Collation for a Summer Entertainment, or Wedding or Christening Breakfast for 70 or 80 Persons (July). [Illustration: Containing the following--] [Columns 1 and 5] 4 Blancmanges, to be placed down the table. 4 Jellies, to be placed down the table. 3 Dishes of Small Pastry. 3 Fruit Tarts. 3 Cheesecakes. 3 Compotes of Fruit. 3 English Pines. 20 Small Dishes of various Summer Fruits. [Column 2] Dish of Lobster, cut up. Charlotte Russe à la Vanille. Lobster Salad Pigeon Pie. Lobster Salad. Dish of Lobster, cut up. Larded Capon. Lobster Salad. Pigeon Pie. Dish of Lobster, cut up. Savoy Cake. Lobster Salad. [Column 3] Tongue. Ribs of Lamb. Two Roast Fowls. Mayonnaise of Salmon. Epergne, with Flowers. Mayonnaise of Trout. Tongue, garnished. Boiled Fowls and Béchamel Sauce. Collared Eel. Ham. Raised Pie. Two Roast Fowls. Shoulder of Lamb, stuffed. Mayonnaise of Salmon. Epergne, with Flowers. Mayonnaise of Trout. Tongue. Boiled Fowls and Béchamel Sauce. Raised Pie. Ham, decorated. Shoulder of Lamb, stuffed. Two Roast Fowls. Mayonnaise of Salmon. Epergne, with Flowers. Mayonnaise of Trout. Tongue, garnished. Boiled Fowls and Béchamel Sauce. Collared Eel. [Column 4] Veal-and-Ham Pie. Lobster Salad. Savoy Cake. Dish of Lobster, cut up. Lobster Salad. Boar's Head. Pigeon Pie. Lobster Salad. Dish of Lobster, cut up. Lobster Salad. Charlotte Russe à la Vanille. Veal and Ham Pie. Dish of Lobster, cut up. _Note_.--The length of the page will not admit of our giving the dishes as they should be placed on the table; they should be arranged with the large and high dishes down the centre, and the spaces filled up with the smaller dishes, fruit, and flowers, taking care that the flavours and colours contrast nicely, and that no two dishes of a sort come together. This bill of fare may be made to answer three or four purposes, placing a wedding cake or christening cake in the centre on a high stand, if required for either of these occasions. A few dishes of fowls, lobster salads, &c. &c., should be kept in reserve to replenish those that are most likely to be eaten first. A joint of cold roast and boiled beef should be placed on the buffet, as being something substantial for the gentlemen of the party to partake of. Besides the articles enumerated in the bill of fare, biscuits and wafers will be required, cream-and-water ices, tea, coffee, wines, liqueurs, soda-water, ginger-beer, and lemonade. BREAKFASTS. 2144. It will not be necessary to give here a long bill of fare of cold joints, &c., which may be placed on the side-board, and do duty at the breakfast-table. Suffice it to say, that any cold meat the larder may furnish, should be nicely garnished, and be placed on the buffet. Collared and potted meats or fish, cold game or poultry, veal-and-ham pies, game-and-Rump-steak pies, are all suitable dishes for the breakfast-table; as also cold ham, tongue, &c. &c. 2145. The following list of hot dishes may perhaps assist our readers in knowing what to provide for the comfortable meal called breakfast. Broiled fish, such as mackerel, whiting, herrings, dried haddocks, &c.; mutton chops and rump-steaks, broiled sheep's kidneys, kidneys à la maître d'hôtel, sausages, plain rashers of bacon, bacon and poached eggs, ham and poached eggs, omelets, plain boiled eggs, oeufs-au-plat, poached eggs on toast, muffins, toast, marmalade, butter, &c. &c. 2146. In the summer, and when they are obtainable, always have a vase of freshly-gathered flowers on the breakfast-table, and, when convenient, a nicely-arranged dish of fruit: when strawberries are in season, these are particularly refreshing; as also grapes, or even currants. LUNCHEONS AND SUPPERS. 2147. The remains of cold joints, nicely garnished, a few sweets, or a little hashed meat, poultry or game, are the usual articles placed on the table for luncheon, with bread and cheese, biscuits, butter, &c. If a substantial meal is desired, rump-steaks or mutton chops may he served, as also veal cutlets, kidneys, or any dish of that kind. In families where there is a nursery, the mistress of the house often partakes of the meal with the children, and makes it her luncheon. In the summer, a few dishes of fresh fruit should be added to the luncheon, or, instead of this, a compote of fruit or fruit tart, or pudding. 2148. Of suppers we have little to say, as we have already given two bills of fare for a large party, which will answer very well for a smaller number, by reducing the quantity of dishes and by omitting a few. Hot suppers are now very little in request, as people now generally dine at an hour which precludes the possibility of requiring supper; at all events, not one of a substantial kind. Should, however, a bill of fare be required, one of those under the head of DINNERS, with slight alterations, will be found to answer for a hot supper. BILL OF FARE FOR A PICNIC FOR 40 PERSONS. 2149. A joint of cold roast beef, a joint of cold boiled beef, 2 ribs of lamb, 2 shoulders of lamb, 4 roast fowls, 2 roast ducks, 1 ham, 1 tongue, 2 veal-and-ham pies, 2 pigeon pies, 6 medium-sized lobsters, 1 piece of collared calf's head, 18 lettuces, 6 baskets of salad, 6 cucumbers. 2150. Stewed fruit well sweetened, and put into glass bottles well corked; 3 or 4 dozen plain pastry biscuits to eat with the stewed fruit, 2 dozen fruit turnovers, 4 dozen cheesecakes, 2 cold cabinet puddings in moulds, 2 blancmanges in moulds, a few jam puffs, 1 large cold plum-pudding (this must be good), a few baskets of fresh fruit, 3 dozen plain biscuits, a piece of cheese, 6 lbs. of butter (this, of course, includes the butter for tea), 4 quartern loaves of household broad, 3 dozen rolls, 6 loaves of tin bread (for tea), 2 plain plum cakes, 2 pound cakes, 2 sponge cakes, a tin of mixed biscuits, 1/2 lb, of tea. Coffee is not suitable for a picnic, being difficult to make. Things not to be forgotten at a Picnic. 2151. A stick of horseradish, a bottle of mint-sauce well corked, a bottle of salad dressing, a bottle of vinegar, made mustard, pepper, salt, good oil, and pounded sugar. If it can be managed, take a little ice. It is scarcely necessary to say that plates, tumblers, wine-glasses, knives, forks, and spoons, must not be forgotten; as also teacups and saucers, 3 or 4 teapots, some lump sugar, and milk, if this last-named article cannot be obtained in the neighbourhood. Take 3 corkscrews. 2152. _Beverages_.--3 dozen quart bottles of ale, packed in hampers; ginger-beer, soda-water, and lemonade, of each 2 dozen bottles; 6 bottles of sherry, 6 bottles of claret, champagne à discrétion, and any other light wine that may be preferred, and 2 bottles of brandy. Water can usually be obtained so it is useless to take it. DOMESTIC SERVANTS. CHAPTER XLI. 2153. It is the custom of "Society" to abuse its servants,--_a façon de parler_, such as leads their lords and masters to talk of the weather, and, when rurally inclined, of the crops,--leads matronly ladies, and ladies just entering on their probation in that honoured and honourable state, to talk of servants, and, as we are told, wax eloquent over the greatest plague in life while taking a quiet cup of tea. Young men at their clubs, also, we are told, like to abuse their "fellows," perhaps not without a certain pride and pleasure at the opportunity of intimating that they enjoy such appendages to their state. It is another conviction of "Society" that the race of good servants has died out, at least in England, although they do order these things better in France; that there is neither honesty, conscientiousness, nor the careful and industrious habits which distinguished the servants of our grandmothers and great-grandmothers; that domestics no longer know their place; that the introduction of cheap silks and cottons, and, still more recently, those ambiguous "materials" and tweeds, have removed the landmarks between the mistress and her maid, between the master and his man. 2154. When the distinction really depends on things so insignificant, this is very probably the case; when the lady of fashion chooses her footman without any other consideration than his height, shape, and _tournure_ of his calf, it is not surprising that she should find a domestic who has no attachment for the family, who considers the figure he cuts behind her carriage, and the late hours he is compelled to keep, a full compensation for the wages he exacts, for the food he wastes, and for the perquisites he can lay his hands on. Nor should the fast young man, who chooses his groom for his knowingness in the ways of the turf and in the tricks of low horse-dealers, be surprised if he is sometimes the victim of these learned ways. But these are the exceptional cases, which prove the existence of a better state of things. The great masses of society among us are not thus deserted; there are few families of respectability, from the shopkeeper in the next street to the nobleman whose mansion dignifies the next square, which do not contain among their dependents attached and useful servants; and where these are absent altogether, there are good reasons for it. The sensible master and the kind mistress know, that if servants depend on them for their means of living, in their turn they are dependent on their servants for very many of the comforts of life; and that, with a proper amount of care in choosing servants, and treating them like reasonable beings, and making slight excuses for the shortcomings of human nature, they will, save in some exceptional case, be tolerably well served, and, in most instances, surround themselves with attached domestics. 2155. This remark, which is applicable to all domestics, is especially so to men-servants. Families accustomed to such attendants have always about them humble dependents, whose children have no other prospect than domestic service to look forward to; to them it presents no degradation, but the reverse, to be so employed; they are initiated step by step into the mysteries of the household, with the prospect of rising in the service, if it is a house admitting of promotion,--to the respectable position of butler or house-steward. In families of humbler pretensions, where they must look for promotion elsewhere, they know that can only be attained by acquiring the goodwill of their employers. Can there be any stronger security for their good conduct,--any doubt that, in the mass of domestic servants, good conduct is the rule, the reverse the exception? 2156. The number of the male domestics in a family varies according to the wealth and position of the master, from the owner of the ducal mansion, with a retinue of attendants, at the head of which is the chamberlain and house-steward, to the occupier of the humbler house, where a single footman, or even the odd man-of-all-work, is the only male retainer. The majority of gentlemen's establishments probably comprise a servant out of livery, or butler, a footman, and coachman, or coachman and groom, where the horses exceed two or three. DUTIES OF THE BUTLER. 2157. The domestic duties of the butler are to bring in the eatables at breakfast, and wait upon the family at that meal, assisted by the footman, and see to the cleanliness of everything at table. On taking away, he removes the tray with the china and plate, for which he is responsible. At luncheon, he arranges the meal, and waits unassisted, the footman being now engaged in other duties. At dinner, he places the silver and plated articles on the table, sees that everything is in its place, and rectifies what is wrong. He carries in the first dish, and announces in the drawing-room that dinner is on the table, and respectfully stands by the door until the company are seated, when he takes his place behind his master's chair on the left, to remove the covers, handing them to the other attendants to carry out. After the first course of plates is supplied, his place is at the sideboard to serve the wines, but only when called on. 2158. The first course ended, he rings the cook's bell, and hands the dishes from the table to the other servants to carry away, receiving from them the second course, which he places on the table, removing the covers as before, and again taking his place at the sideboard. 2159. At dessert, the slips being removed, the butler receives the dessert from the other servants, and arranges it on the table, with plates and glasses, and then takes his place behind his master's chair to hand the wines and ices, while the footman stands behind his mistress for the same purpose, the other attendants leaving the room. Where the old-fashioned practice of having the dessert on the polished table, without any cloth, is still adhered to, the butler should rub off any marks made by the hot dishes before arranging the dessert. 2160. Before dinner, he has satisfied himself that the lamps, candles, or gas-burners are in perfect order, if not lighted, which will usually be the case. Having served every one with their share of the dessert, put the fires in order (when these are used), and seen the lights are all right, at a signal from his master, he and the footman leave the room. 2161. He now proceeds to the drawing-room, arranges the fireplace, and sees to the lights; he then returns to his pantry, prepared to answer the bell, and attend to the company, while the footman is clearing away and cleaning the plate and glasses. 2162. At tea he again attends. At bedtime he appears with the candles; he locks up the plate, secures doors and windows, and sees that all the fires are safe. 2163. In addition to these duties, the butler, where only one footman is kept, will be required to perform some of the duties of the valet, to pay bills, and superintend the other servants. But the real duties of the butler are in the wine-cellar; there he should be competent to advise his master as to the price and quality of the wine to be laid in; "fine," bottle, cork, and seal it, and place it in the binns. Brewing, racking, and bottling malt liquors, belong to his office, as well as their distribution. These and other drinkables are brought from the cellar every day by his own hands, except where an under-butler is kept; and a careful entry of every bottle used, entered in the cellar-book; so that the book should always show the contents of the cellar. 2164. The office of butler is thus one of very great trust in a household. Here, as elsewhere, honesty is the best policy: the butler should make it his business to understand the proper treatment of the different wines under his charge, which he can easily do from the wine-merchant, and faithfully attend to it; his own reputation will soon compensate for the absence of bribes from unprincipled wine-merchants, if he serves a generous and hospitable master. Nothing spreads more rapidly in society than the reputation of a good wine-cellar, and all that is required is wines well chosen and well cared for; and this a little knowledge, carefully applied, will soon supply. 2165. The butler, we have said, has charge of the contents of the cellars, and it is his duty to keep them in a proper condition, to fine down wine in wood, bottle it off, and store it away in places suited to the sorts. Where wine comes into the cellar ready bottled, it is usual to return the same number of empty bottles; the butler has not, in this case, the same inducements to keep the bottles of the different sorts separated; but where the wine is bottled in the house, he will find his account, not only in keeping them separate, but in rinsing them well, and even washing them with clean water as soon as they are empty. 2166. There are various modes of fining wine: isinglass, gelatine, and gum Arabic are all used for the purpose. Whichever of these articles is used, the process is always the same. Supposing eggs (the cheapest) to be used,--Draw a gallon or so of the wine, and mix one quart of it with the whites of four eggs, by stirring it with a whisk; afterwards, when thoroughly mixed, pour it back into the cask through the bunghole, and stir up the whole cask, in a rotatory direction, with a clean split stick inserted through the bunghole. Having stirred it sufficiently, pour in the remainder of the wine drawn off, until the cask is full; then stir again, skimming off the bubbles that rise to the surface. When thoroughly mixed by stirring, close the bunghole, and leave it to stand for three or four days. This quantity of clarified wine will fine thirteen dozen of port or sherry. The other clearing ingredients are applied in the same manner, the material being cut into small pieces, and dissolved in the quart of wine, and the cask stirred in the same manner. 2167. _To Bottle Wine_.--Having thoroughly washed and dried the bottles, supposing they have been before used for the same kind of wine, provide corks, which will be improved by being slightly boiled, or at least steeped in hot water,--a wooden hammer or mallet, a bottling-boot, and a squeezer for the corks. Bore a hole in the lower part of the cask with a gimlet, receiving the liquid stream which follows in the bottle and filterer, which is placed in a tub or basin. This operation is best performed by two persons, one to draw the wine, the other to cork the bottles. The drawer is to see that the bottles are up to the mark, but not too full, the bottle being placed in a clean tub to prevent waste. The corking-boot is buckled by a strap to the knee, the bottle placed in it, and the cork, after being squeezed in the press, driven in by a flat wooden mallet. 2168. As the wine draws near to the bottom of the cask, a thick piece of muslin is placed in the strainer, to prevent the viscous grounds from passing into the bottle. 2169. Having carefully counted the bottles, they are stored away in their respective binns, a layer of sand or sawdust being placed under the first tier, and another over it; a second tier is laid over this, protected by a lath, the head of the second being laid to the bottom of the first; over this another bed of sawdust is laid, not too thick, another lath; and so on till the binn is filled. 2170. Wine so laid in will be ready for use according to its quality and age. Port wine, old in the wood, will be ready to drink in five or six months; but if it is a fruity wine, it will improve every year. Sherry, if of good quality, will be fit to drink as soon as the "sickness" (as its first condition after bottling is called) ceases, and will also improve; but the cellar must be kept at a perfectly steady temperature, neither too hot nor too cold, but about 55° or 60°, and absolutely free from draughts of cold air. DUTIES OF THE FOOTMAN. 2171. Where a single footman, or odd man, is the only male servant, then, whatever his ostensible position, he is required to make himself generally useful. He has to clean the knives and shoes, the furniture, the plate; answer the visitors who call, the drawing-room and parlour bells; and do all the errands. His life is no sinecure; and a methodical arrangement of his time will be necessary, in order to perform his many duties with any satisfaction to himself or his master. 2172. The footman only finds himself in stockings, shoes, and washing. Where silk stockings, or other extra articles of linen are worn, they are found by the family, as well as his livery, a working dress, consisting of a pair of overalls, a waistcoat, a fustian jacket, with a white or jean one for times when he is liable to be called to answer the door or wait at breakfast; and, on quitting his service, he is expected to leave behind him any livery had within six months. 2173. The footman is expected to rise early, in order to get through all his dirty work before the family are stirring. Boots and shoes, and knives and forks, should be cleaned, lamps in use trimmed, his master's clothes brushed, the furniture rubbed over; so that he may put aside his working dress, tidy himself, and appear in a clean jean jacket to lay the cloth and prepare breakfast for the family. 2174. We need hardly dwell on the boot-cleaning process: three good brushes and good blacking must be provided; one of the brushes hard, to brush off the mud; the other soft, to lay on the blacking; the third of a medium hardness, for polishing; and each should be kept for its particular use. The blacking should be kept corked up, except when in use, and applied to the brush with a sponge tied to a stick, which, when put away, rests in a notch cut in the cork. When boots come in very muddy, it is a good practice to wash off the mud, and wipe them dry with a sponge; then leave them to dry very gradually on their sides, taking care they are not placed near the fire, or scorched. Much delicacy of treatment is required in cleaning ladies' boots, so as to make the leather look well-polished, and the upper part retain a fresh appearance, with the lining free from hand-marks, which are very offensive to a lady of refined tastes. 2175. Patent leather boots require to be wiped with a wet sponge, and afterwards with a soft dry cloth, and occasionally with a soft cloth and sweet oil, blacking and polishing the edge of the soles in the usual way, but so as not to cover the patent polish with blacking. A little milk may also be used with very good effect for patent leather boots. 2176. Top boots are still occasionally worn by gentlemen. While cleaning the lower part in the usual manner, protect the tops, by inserting a cloth or brown paper under the edges and bringing it over them. In cleaning the tops, let the covering fall down over the boot; wash the tops clean with soap and flannel, and rub out any spots with pumice-stone. If the tops are to be whiter, dissolve an ounce of oxalic acid and half an ounce of pumice-stone in a pint of soft water; if a brown colour is intended, mix an ounce of muriatic acid, half an ounce of alum, half an ounce of gum Arabic, and half an ounce of spirit of lavender, in a pint and a half of skimmed milk "turned." These mixtures apply by means of a sponge, and polish, when dry, with a rubber made of soft flannel. 2177. Knives are now generally cleaned by means of Kent's or Masters's machine, which gives very little trouble, and is very effective; before, however, putting the knives into the machine, it is highly necessary that they be first washed in a little warm (not hot) water, and then thoroughly wiped: if put into the machine with any grease on them, it adheres to the brushes, and consequently renders them unfit to use for the next knives that may be put in. When this precaution is not taken, the machine must come to pieces, so causing an immense amount of trouble, which may all be avoided by having the knives thoroughly free from grease before using the machine. Brushes are also used for cleaning forks, which facilitate the operation. When knives are so cleaned, see that they are carefully polished, wiped, and with a good edge, the ferules and prongs free from dirt, and place them in the basket with the handles all one way. 2178. Lamp-trimming requires a thorough acquaintance with the mechanism; after that, constant attention to cleanliness, and an occasional entire clearing out with hot water: when this is done, all the parts should be carefully dried before filling again with oil. When lacquered, wipe the lacquered parts with a soft brush and cloth, and wash occasionally with weak soapsuds, wiping carefully afterwards. Brass lamps may be cleaned with oil and rottenstone every day when trimmed. With bronze, and other ornamental lamps, more care will be required, and soft flannel and oil only used, to prevent the removal of the bronze or enamel. Brass-work, or any metal-work not lacquered, is cleaned by a little oil and rottenstone made into a paste, or with fine emery-powder and oil mixed in the same manner. A small portion of sal ammoniac, beat into a fine powder and moistened with soft water, rubbed over brass ornaments, and heated over a charcoal fire, and rubbed dry with bran or whitening, will give to brass-work the brilliancy of gold. In trimming moderator lamps, let the wick be cut evenly all round; as, if left higher in one place than it is in another, it will cause it to smoke and burn badly. The lamp should then be filled with oil from a feeder, and afterwards well wiped with a cloth or rag kept for the purpose. If it can be avoided, never wash the chimneys of a lamp, as it causes them to crack when they become hot. Small sticks, covered with wash-leather pads, are the best things to use for cleaning the glasses inside, and a clean duster for polishing the outside. The globe of a moderator lamp should be occasionally washed in warm soap-and-water, then well rinsed in cold water, and either wiped dry or left to drain. Where candle-lamps are used, take out the springs occasionally, and free them well from the grease that adheres to them. 2179. French polish, so universally applied to furniture, is easily kept in condition by dusting and rubbing with a soft cloth, or a rubber of old silk; but dining-tables can only be kept in order by hard rubbing, or rather by quick rubbing, which warms the wood and removes all spots. 2180. Brushing clothes is a very simple but very necessary operation. Fine cloths require to be brushed lightly, and with rather a soft brush, except where mud is to be removed, when a hard one is necessary, being previously beaten lightly to dislodge the dirt. Lay the garment on a table, and brush it in the direction of the nap. Having brushed it properly, turn the sleeves back to the collar, so that the folds may come at the elbow-joints; next turn the lappels or sides back over the folded sleeves; then lay the skirts over level with the collar, so that the crease may fall about the centre, and double one half over the other, so as the fold comes in the centre of the back. 2181. Having got through his dirty work, the single footman has now to clean himself and prepare the breakfast. He lays the cloth on the table; over it the breakfast-cloth, and sets the breakfast things in order, and then proceeds to wait upon his master, if he has any of the duties of a valet to perform. 2182. Where a valet is not kept, a portion of his duties falls to the footman's share,--brushing the clothes among others. When the hat is silk, it requires brushing every day with a soft brush; after rain, it requires wiping the way of the nap before drying, and, when nearly dry, brushing with the soft brush and with the hat-stick in it. If the footman is required to perform any part of a valet's duties, he will have to see that the housemaid lights a fire in the dressing-room in due time; that the room is dusted and cleaned; that the washhand-ewer is filled with soft water; and that the bath, whether hot or cold, is ready when required; that towels are at hand; that hair-brushes and combs are properly cleansed, and in their places; that hot water is ready at the hour ordered; the dressing-gown and slippers in their place, the clean linen aired, and the clothes to be worn for the day in their proper places. After the master has dressed, it will be the footman's duty to restore everything to its place properly cleansed and dry, and the whole restored to order. 2183. At breakfast, when there is no butler, the footman carries up the tea-urn, and, assisted by the housemaid, he waits during breakfast. Breakfast over, he removes the tray and other things off the table, folds up the breakfast-cloth, and sets the room in order, by sweeping up all crumbs, shaking the cloth, and laying it on the table again, making up the fire, and sweeping up the hearth. 2184. At luncheon-time nearly the same routine is observed, except where the footman is either out with the carriage or away on other business, when, in the absence of any butler, the housemaid must assist. 2185. For dinner, the footman lays the cloth, taking care that the table is not too near the fire, if there is one, and that passage-room is left. A tablecloth should be laid without a wrinkle; and this requires two persons: over this the slips are laid, which are usually removed preparatory to placing dessert on the table. He prepares knives, forks, and glasses, with five or six plates for each person. This done, he places chairs enough for the party, distributing them equally on each side of the table, and opposite to each a napkin neatly folded, within it a piece of bread or small roll, and a knife on the right side of each plate, a fork on the left, and a carving-knife and fork at the top and bottom of the table, outside the others, with the rests opposite to them, and a gravy-spoon beside the knife. The fish-slice should be at the top, where the lady of the house, with the assistance of the gentleman next to her, divides the fish, and the soup-ladle at the bottom: it is sometimes usual to add a dessert-knife and fork; at the same time, on the right side also of each plate, put a wine-glass for as many kinds of wine as it is intended to hand round, and a finger-glass or glass-cooler about four inches from the edge. The latter are frequently put on the table with the dessert. 2186. About half an hour before dinner, he rings the dinner-bell, where that is the practice, and occupies himself with carrying up everything he is likely to require. At the expiration of the time, having communicated with the cook, he rings the real dinner-bell, and proceeds to take it up with such assistance as he can obtain. Having ascertained that all is in order, that his own dress is clean and presentable, and his white cotton gloves are without a stain, he announces in the drawing-room that dinner is served, and stands respectfully by the door until the company are seated: he places himself on the left, behind his master, who is to distribute the soup; where soup and fish are served together, his place will be at his mistress's left hand; but he must be on the alert to see that whoever is assisting him, whether male or female, are at their posts. If any of the guests has brought his own servant with him, his place is behind his master's chair, rendering such assistance to others as he can, while attending to his master's wants throughout the dinner, so that every guest has what he requires. This necessitates both activity and intelligence, and should be done without bustle, without asking any questions, except where it is the custom of the house to hand round dishes or wine, when it will be necessary to mention, in a quiet and unobtrusive manner, the dish or wine you present. 2187. Salt-cellars should be placed on the table in number sufficient for the guests, so that each may help themselves, or, at least, their immediate neighbours. DINNERS À LA RUSSE. 2188. In some houses the table is laid out with plate and glass, and ornamented with flowers, the dessert only being placed on the table, the dinner itself being placed on the sideboard, and handed round in succession, in courses of soup, fish, entries, meat, game, and sweets. This is not only elegant but economical, as fewer dishes are required, the symmetry of the table being made up with the ornaments and dessert. The various dishes are also handed round when hot; but it involves additional and superior attendance, as the wines are also handed round; and unless the servants are very active and intelligent, many blunders are likely to be made. (See p. 954.) GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 2189. While attentive to all, the footman should be obtrusive to none; he should give nothing but on a waiter, and always hand it with the left hand and on the left side of the person he serves, and hold it so that the guest may take it with ease. In lifting dishes from the table, he should use both hands, and remove them with care, so that nothing is spilt on the table-cloth or on the dresses of the guests. 2190. Masters as well as servants sometimes make mistakes; but it is not expected that a servant will correct any omissions, even if he should have time to notice them, although with the best intentions: thus it would not be correct, for instance, if he observed that his master took wine with the ladies all round, as some gentlemen still continue to do, but stopped at some one:--to nudge him on the shoulder and say, as was done by the servant of a Scottish gentleman, "What ails you at her in the green gown?" It will be better to leave the lady unnoticed than for the servant thus to turn his master into ridicule. 2191. During dinner each person's knife, fork, plate, and spoon should be changed as soon as he has done with it; the vegetables and sauces belonging to the different dishes presented without remark to the guests; and the footman should tread lightly in moving round, and, if possible, should bear in mind, if there is a wit or humorist of the party, whose good things keep the table in a roar, that they are not expected to reach his ears. 2192. In opening wine, let it be done quietly, and without shaking the bottle; if crusted, let it be inclined to the crusted side, and decanted while in that position. In opening champagne, it is not necessary to discharge it with a pop; properly cooled, the cork is easily extracted without an explosion; when the cork is out, the mouth of the bottle should be wiped with the napkin over the footman's arm. 2193. At the end of the first course, notice is conveyed to the cook, who is waiting to send up the second, which is introduced in the same way as before; the attendants who remove the fragments, carrying the dishes from the kitchen, and handing them to the footman or butler, whose duty it is to arrange them on the table. After dinner, the dessert-glasses and wines are placed on the table by the footman, who places himself behind his master's chair, to supply wine and hand round the ices and other refreshments, all other servants leaving the room. 2194. As soon as the drawing-room bell rings for tea, the footman enters with the tray, which has been previously prepared; hands the tray round to the company, with cream and sugar, the tea and coffee being generally poured out, while another attendant hands cakes, toast, or biscuits. If it is an ordinary family party, where this social meal is prepared by the mistress, he carries the urn or kettle, as the case may be; hands round the toast, or such other eatable as may be required, removing the whole in the same manner when tea is over. 2195. After each meal, the footman's place is in his pantry: here perfect order should prevail--a place for everything and everything in its place. A sink, with hot and cold water laid on, is very desirable,--cold absolutely necessary. Wooden bowls or tubs of sufficient capacity are required, one for hot and another for cold water. Have the bowl three parts full of clean hot water; in this wash all plate and plated articles which are greasy, wiping them before cleaning with the brush. 2196. The footman in small families, where only one man is kept, has many of the duties of the upper servants to perform as well as his own, and more constant occupation; he will also have the arrangement of his time more immediately under his own control, and he will do well to reduce it to a methodical division. All his rough work should be done before breakfast is ready, when he must appear clean, and in a presentable state. After breakfast, when everything belonging to his pantry is cleaned and put in its place, the furniture in the dining and drawing rooms requires rubbing. Towards noon, the parlour luncheon is to be prepared; and he must be at his mistress's disposal to go out with the carriage, or follow her if she walks out. 2197. Glass is a beautiful and most fragile article: hence it requires great care in washing. A perfectly clean wooden bowl is best for this operation, one for moderately hot and another for cold water. Wash the glasses well in the first and rinse them in the second, and turn them down on a linen cloth folded two or three times, to drain for a few minutes. When sufficiently drained, wipe them with a cloth and polish with a finer one, doing so tenderly and carefully. Accidents will happen; but nothing discredits a servant in the drawing-room more than continual reports of breakages, which, of course, must reach that region. 2198. Decanters and water-jugs require still more tender treatment in cleaning, inasmuch as they are more costly to replace. Fill them about two-thirds with hot but not boiling water, and put in a few pieces of well-soaped brown paper; leave them thus for two or three hours; then shake the water up and down in the decanters; empty this out, rinse them well with clean cold water, and put them in a rack to drain. When dry, polish them outside and inside, as far as possible, with a fine cloth. To remove the crust of port or other wines, add a little muriatic acid to the water, and let it remain for some time. 2199. When required to go out with the carriage, it is the footman's duty to see that it has come to the door perfectly clean, and that the glasses, and sashes, and linings, are free from dust. In receiving messages at the carriage door, he should turn his ear to the speaker, so as to comprehend what is said, in order that he may give his directions to the coachman clearly. When the house he is to call at is reached, he should knock, and return to the carriage for orders. In closing the door upon the family, he should see that the handle is securely turned, and that no part of the ladies' dress is shut in. 2200. It is the footman's duty to carry messages or letters for his master or mistress to their friends, to the post, or to the tradespeople; and nothing is more important than dispatch and exactness in doing so, although writing even the simplest message is now the ordinary and very proper practice. Dean Swift, among his other quaint directions, all of which are to be read by contraries, recommends a perusal of all such epistles, in order that you may be the more able to fulfil your duty to your master. An old lady of Forfarshire had one of those odd old Caleb Balderston sort of servants, who construed the Dean of St. Patrick more literally. On one occasion, when dispatch was of some importance, knowing his inquiring nature, she called her Scotch Paul Pry to her, opened the note, and read it to him herself, saying, "Now, Andrew, you ken a' aboot it, and needna' stop to open and read it, but just take it at once." Probably most of the notes you are expected to carry might, with equal harmlessness, be communicated to you; but it will be better not to take so lively an interest in your mistress's affairs. 2201. Politeness and civility to visitors is one of the things masters and mistresses have a right to expect, and should exact rigorously. When visitors present themselves, the servant charged with the duty of opening the door will open it promptly, and answer, without hesitation, if the family are "not at home," or "engaged;" which generally means the same thing, and might be oftener used with advantage to morals. On the contrary, if he has no such orders, he will answer affirmatively, open the door wide to admit them, and precede them to open the door of the drawing-room. If the family are not there, he will place chairs for them, open the blinds (if the room is too dark), and intimate civilly that he goes to inform his mistress. If the lady is in her drawing-room, he announces the name of the visitors, having previously acquainted himself with it. In this part of his duty it is necessary to be very careful to repeat the names correctly; mispronouncing names is very apt to give offence, and leads sometimes to other disagreeables. The writer was once initiated into some of the secrets on the "other side" of a legal affair in which he took an interest, before he could correct a mistake made by the servant in announcing him. When the visitor is departing, the servant should be at hand, ready, when rung for, to open the door; he should open it with a respectful manner, and close it gently when the visitors are fairly beyond the threshold. When several visitors arrive together, he should take care not to mix up the different names together, where they belong to the same family, as Mr., Mrs., and Miss; if they are strangers, he should announce each as distinctly as possible. 2202. _Receptions and Evening Parties_.--The drawing-rooms being prepared, the card-tables laid out with cards and counters, and such other arrangements as are necessary made for the reception of the company, the rooms should be lighted up as the hour appointed approaches. Attendants in the drawing-room, even more than in the dining-room, should move about actively but noiselessly; no creaking of shoes, which is an abomination; watching the lights from time to time, so as to keep up their brilliancy. But even if the attendant likes a game of cribbage or whist himself, he must not interfere in his master or mistress's game, nor even seem to take an interest in it. We once knew a lady who had a footman, and both were fond of a game of cribbage,--John in the kitchen, the lady in her drawing-room. The lady was a giver of evening parties, where she frequently enjoyed her favourite amusement. While handing about the tea and toast, John could not always suppress his disgust at her mistakes. "There is more in that hand, ma'am," he has been known to say; or, "Ma'am, you forgot to count his nob;" in fact, he identified himself with his mistress's game, and would have lost twenty places rather than witness a miscount. It is not necessary to adopt his example on this point, although John had many qualities a good servant might copy with advantage. THE COACHHOUSE AND STABLES. 2203. THE HORSE is the noblest of quadrupeds, whether we view him in his strength, his sagacity, or his beauty. He is also the most useful to man of all the animal creation; but his delicacy is equal to his power and usefulness. No other animal, probably, is so dependent on man in the state of domestication to which he has been reduced, or deteriorates so rapidly under exposure, bad feeding, or bad grooming. It is, therefore, a point of humanity, not to speak of its obvious impolicy, for the owner of horses to overlook any neglect in their feeding or grooming. His interest dictates that so valuable an animal should be well housed, well fed, and well groomed; and he will do well to acquire so much of stable lore as will enable him to judge of these points himself. In a general way, where a horse's coat is habitually rough and untidy, there is a sad want of elbow-grease in the stable. When a horse of tolerable breeding is dull and spiritless, he is getting ill or badly fed; and where he is observed to perspire much in the stables, is overfed, and probably eats his litter in addition to his regular supply of food. 2204. _Stables_.--The architectural form of the stables will be subject to other influences than ours; we confine ourselves, therefore, to their internal arrangements. They should be roomy in proportion to the number of stalls; warm, with good ventilation, and perfectly free from cold draughts; the stalls roomy, without excess, with good and well-trapped drainage, so as to exclude bad smells; a sound ceiling to prevent the entrance of dust from the hayloft, which is usually above them; and there should be plenty of light, coming, however, either from above or behind, so as not to glare in the horse's eye. 2205. _Heat_.--The first of these objects is attained, if the stables are kept within a degree or two of 50° in winter, and 60° in summer; although some grooms insist on a much higher temperature, in the interests of their own labour. 2206. _Ventilation_ is usually attained by the insertion of one or more tubes or boxes of wood or iron through the ceiling and the roof, with a sloping covering over the opening, to keep out rain, and valves or ventilators below to regulate the atmosphere, with openings in the walls for the admission of fresh air: this is still a difficulty, however; for the effluvium of the stable is difficult to dispel, and draughts must be avoided. This is sometimes accomplished by means of hollow walls with gratings at the bottom outside, for the exit of bad air, which is carried down through the hollow walls and discharged at the bottom, while, for the admission of fresh air, the reverse takes place: the fresh by this means gets diffused and heated before it is discharged into the stable. 2207. _The Stalls_ should be divided by partitions of wood-work eight or nine feet high at the head and six at the heels, and nine feet deep, so as to separate each horse from its neighbour. A hay-rack placed within easy reach of the horse, of wood or iron, occupies either a corner or the whole breadth of the stall, which should be about six feet for on ordinary-sized horse. A manger, formerly of wood, but of late years more generally of iron lined with enamel, occupies a corner of the stall. The pavement of the stall should be nearly level, with a slight incline towards the gutter, to keep the bed dry, paved with hard Dutch brick laid on edge, or asphalte, or smithy clinkers, or rubble-stones, laid in strong cement. In the centre, about five feet from the wall, a grating should be firmly fixed in the pavement, and in communication with a well-trapped drain to carry off the water; the gutter outside the stall should also communicate with the drains by trapped openings. The passage between the stall and the hall should be from five to six feet broad at least; on the wall, opposite to each stall, pegs should be placed for receiving the harness and other things in daily use. 2208. _A Harness-room_ is indispensable to every stable. It should be dry and airy, and furnished with a fireplace and boiler, both for the protection of the harness and to prepare mashes for the horses when required. The partition-wall should be boarded where the harness goes, with pegs to hang the various pieces of harness on, with saddle-trees to rest the saddles on, a cupboard for the brushes, sponges, and leathers, and a lock-up corn-bin. 2209. _The furniture_ of a stable with coachhouse, consists of coach-mops, jacks for raising the wheels, horse-brushes, spoke-brushes, water-brushes, crest and bit-brushes, dandy-brushes, currycombs, birch and heath brooms, trimming-combs, scissors and pickers, oil-cans and brushes, harness-brushes of three sorts, leathers, sponges for horse and carriage, stable-forks, dung-baskets or wheelbarrow, corn-sieves and measures, horse-cloths and stable pails, horn or glass lanterns. Over the stables there should be accommodation for the coachman or groom to sleep. Accidents sometimes occur, and he should be at hand to interfere. DUTIES OF THE COACHMAN, GROOM, AND STABLE-BOY. 2210. _The Establishment_ we have in view will consist of coachman, groom, and stable-boy, who are capable of keeping in perfect order four horses, and perhaps the pony. Of this establishment the coachman is chief. Besides skill in driving, he should possess a good general knowledge of horses; he has usually to purchase provender, to see that the horses are regularly fed and properly groomed, watch over their condition, apply simple remedies to trifling ailments in the animals under his charge, and report where he observes symptoms of more serious ones which he does not understand. He has either to clean the carriage himself, or see that the stable-boy does it properly. 2211. _The Groom's_ first duties are to keep his horses in condition; but he is sometimes expected to perform the duties of a valet, to ride out with his master, on occasions, to wait at table, and otherwise assist in the house: in these cases, he should have the means of dressing himself, and keeping his clothes entirely away from the stables. In the morning, about six o'clock, or rather before, the stables should be opened and cleaned out, and the horses fed, first by cleaning the rack and throwing in fresh hay, putting it lightly in the rack, that the horses may get it out easily; a short time afterwards their usual morning feed of oats should be put into the manger. While this is going on, the stable-boy has been removing the stable-dung, and sweeping and washing out the stables, both of which should be done every day, and every corner carefully swept, in order to keep the stable sweet and clean. The real duties of the groom follow: where the horses are not taken out for early exercise, the work of grooming immediately commences. "Having tied up the head," to use the excellent description of the process given by old Barrett, "take a currycomb and curry him all over the body, to raise the dust, beginning first at the neck, holding the left cheek of the headstall in the left hand, and curry him from the setting-on of his head all over the body to the buttocks, down to the point of the hock; then change your hands, and curry him before, on his breast, and, laying your right arm over his back, join your right side to his left, and curry him all under the belly near the fore-bowels, and so all over from the knees and back upwards; after that, go to the far side and do that likewise. Then take a dead horse's tail, or, failing that, a cotton dusting-cloth, and strike that away which the currycomb hath raised. Then take a round brush made of bristles, with a leathern handle, and dress him all over, both head, body, and legs, to the very fetlocks, always cleansing the brush from the dust by rubbing it with the currycomb. In the curry-combing process, as well as brushing, it must be applied with mildness, especially with fine-skinned horses; otherwise the tickling irritates them much. The brushing is succeeded by a hair-cloth, with which rub him all over again very hard, both to take away loose hairs and lay his coat; then wash your hands in fair water, and rub him all over while they are wet, as well over the head as the body. Lastly, take a clean cloth, and rub him all over again till he be dry; then take another hair-cloth, and rub all his legs exceeding well from the knees and hocks downwards to his hoofs, picking and dressing them very carefully about the fetlocks, so as to remove all gravel and dust which will sometimes lie in the bending of the joints." In addition to the practice of this old writer, modern grooms add wisping, which usually follows brushing. The best wisp is made from a hayband, untwisted, and again doubled up after being moistened with water: this is applied to every part of the body, as the brushing had been, by changing the hands, taking care in all these operations to carry the hand in the direction of the coat. Stains on the hair are removed by sponging, or, when the coat is very dirty, by the water-brush; the whole being finished off by a linen or flannel cloth. The horsecloth should now be put on by taking the cloth in both hands, with the outside next you, and, with your right hand to the off side, throw it over his back, placing it no farther back than will leave it straight and level, which will be about a foot from the tail. Put the roller round, and the pad-piece under it, about six or eight inches from the fore legs. The horse's head is now loosened; he is turned about in his stall to have his head and ears rubbed and brushed over every part, including throat, with the dusting-cloth, finishing by "pulling his ears," which all horses seem to enjoy very much. This done, the mane and foretop should be combed out, passing a wet sponge over them, sponging the mane on both sides, by throwing it back to the midriff, to make it lie smooth. The horse is now returned to his headstall, his tail combed out, cleaning it of stains with a wet brush or sponge, trimming both tail and mane, and forelock when necessary, smoothing them down with a brush on which a little oil has been dropped. 2212. Watering usually follows dressing; but some horses refuse their food until they have drunk: the groom should not, therefore, lay down exclusive rules on this subject, but study the temper and habits of his horse. 2213. _Exercise_.--All horses not in work require at least two hours' exercise daily; and in exercising them a good groom will put them through the paces to which they have been trained. In the case of saddle-horses he will walk, trot, canter, and gallop them, in order to keep them up to their work. With draught horses they ought to be kept up to a smart walk and trot. 2214. _Feeding_ must depend on their work, but they require feeding three times a day, with more or less corn each time, according to their work. In the fast coaching days it was a saying among proprietors, that "his belly was the measure of his food;" but the horse's appetite is not to be taken as a criterion of the quantity of food under any circumstances. Horses have been known to consume 40 lbs. of hay in twenty-four hours, whereas 16 lbs. to 18 lbs. is the utmost which should have been given. Mr. Croall, an extensive coach proprietor in Scotland, limited his horses to 4-1/2 lbs. cut straw, 8 lbs. bruised oats, and 2-1/2 lbs. bruised beans, in the morning and noon, giving them at night 25 lbs. of the following; viz., 560 lbs. steamed potatoes, 36 lbs. barley-dust, 40 lbs. cut straw, and 6 lbs. salt, mixed up together: under this the horses did their work well. The ordinary measure given a horse is a peck of oats, about 40 lbs. to the bushel, twice a day, a third feed and a rack-full of hay, which may be about 15 lbs. or 18 lbs., when he is in full work. 2215. You cannot take up a paper without having the question put, "Do you bruise your oats?" Well, that depends on circumstances: a fresh young horse can bruise its own oats when it can get them; but aged horses, after a time, lose the power of masticating and bruising them, and bolt them whole; thus much impeding the work of digestion. For an old horse, then, bruise the oats; for a young one it does no harm and little good. Oats should be bright and dry, and not too new. Where they are new, sprinkle them with salt and water; otherwise, they overload the horse's stomach. Chopped straw mixed with oats, in the proportion of a third of straw or hay, is a good food for horses in full work; and carrots, of which horses are remarkably fond, have a perceptible effect in a short time on the gloss of the coat. 2216. The water given to a horse merits some attention; it should not be too cold; hard water is not to be recommended; stagnant or muddy water is positively injurious; river water is the best for all purposes; and anything is preferable to spring water, which should be exposed to the sun in summer for an hour or two, and stirred up before using it; a handful of oatmeal thrown into the pail will much improve its quality. 2217. _Shoeing_.--A horse should not be sent on a journey or any other hard work immediately after new shoeing;--the stiffness incidental to new shoes is not unlikely to bring him down. A day's rest, with reasonable exercise, will not be thrown away after this operation. On reaching home very hot, the groom should walk him about for a few minutes; this done, he should take off the moisture with the scraper, and afterwards wisp him over with a handful of straw and a flannel cloth: if the cloth is dipped in some spirit, all the better. He should wash, pick, and wipe dry the legs and feet, take off the bridle and crupper, and fasten it to the rack, then the girths, and put a wisp of straw under the saddle. When sufficiently cool, the horse should have some hay given him, and then a feed of oats: if he refuse the latter, offer him a little wet bran, or a handful of oatmeal in tepid water. When he has been fed, he should be thoroughly cleaned, and his body-clothes put on, and, if very much harassed with fatigue, a little good ale or wine will be well bestowed on a valuable horse, adding plenty of fresh litter under the belly. 2218. _Bridles_.--Every time a horse is unbridled, the bit should be carefully washed and dried, and the leather wiped, to keep them sweet, as well as the girths and saddle, the latter being carefully dried and beaten with a switch before it is again put on. In washing a horse's feet after a day's work, the master should insist upon the legs and feet being washed thoroughly with a sponge until the water flows over them, and then rubbed with a brush till quite dry. 2219. _Harness_, if not carefully preserved, very soon gets a shabby tarnished appearance. Where the coachman has a proper harness-room and sufficient assistance, this is inexcusable and easily prevented. The harness-room should have a wooden lining all round, and be perfectly dry and well ventilated. Around the walls, hooks and pegs should be placed, for the several pieces of harness, at such a height as to prevent their touching the ground; and every part of the harness should have its peg or hook,--one for the halters, another for the reins, and others for snaffles and other bits and metal-work; and either a wooden horse or saddle-trees for the saddles and pads. All these parts should be dry, clean, and shining. This is only to be done by careful cleaning and polishing, and the use of several requisite pastes. The metallic parts, when white, should be cleaned by a soft brush and plate-powder; the copper and brass parts burnished with rottenstone-powder and oil,--steel with emery-powder; both made into a paste with a little oil. 2220. An excellent paste for polishing harness and the leather-work of carriages, is made by melting 8 lbs. of yellow wax, stirring it till completely dissolved. Into this pour 1 lb. of litharge of the shops, which has been pounded up with water, and dried and sifted through a sieve, leaving the two, when mixed, to simmer on the fire, stirring them continually till all is melted. When it is a little cool, mix this with 1-1/4 lb. of good ivory-black; place this again on the fire, and stir till it boils anew, and suffer it to cool. When cooled a little, add distilled turpentine till it has the consistence of a thickish paste, scenting it with any essence at hand, thinning it when necessary from time to time, by adding distilled turpentine. 2221. When the leather is old and greasy, it should be cleaned before applying this polish, with a brush wetted in a weak solution of potass and water, washing afterwards with soft river water, and drying thoroughly. If the leather is not black, one or two coats of black ink may be given before applying the polish. When quite dry, the varnish should be laid on with a soft shoe-brush, using also a soft brush to polish the leather. 2222. When the leather is very old, it may be softened with fish-oil, and, after putting on the ink, a sponge charged with distilled turpentine passed over, to scour the surface of the leather, which should be polished as above. 2223. _For fawn or yellow-coloured leather_, take a quart of skimmed milk, pour into it 1 oz. of sulphuric acid, and, when cold, add to it 4 oz. of hydrochloric acid, shaking the bottle gently until it ceases to emit white vapours; separate the coagulated from the liquid part, by straining through a sieve, and store it away till required. In applying it, clean the leather by a weak solution of oxalic acid, washing it off immediately, and apply the composition when dry with a sponge. 2224. _Wheel-grease_ is usually purchased at the shops; but a good paste is made as follows:--Melt 80 parts of grease, and stir into it, mixing it thoroughly and smoothly, 20 parts of fine black-lead in powder, and store away in a tin box for use. This grease is used in the mint at Paris, and is highly approved. 2225. _Carriages_ in an endless variety of shapes and names are continually making their appearance; but the hackney cab or clarence seems most in request for light carriages; the family carriage of the day being a modified form of the clarence adapted for family use. The carriage is a valuable piece of furniture, requiring all the care of the most delicate upholstery, with the additional disadvantage of continual exposure to the weather and to the muddy streets. 2216. It requires, therefore, to be carefully cleaned before putting away, and a coach-house perfectly dry and well ventilated, for the wood-work swells with moisture; it shrinks also with heat, unless the timber has undergone a long course of seasoning: it should also have a dry floor, a boarded one being recommended. It must be removed from the ammoniacal influence of the stables, from open drains and cesspools, and other gaseous influences likely to affect the paint and varnish. When the carriage returns home, it should be carefully washed and dried, and that, if possible, before the mud has time to dry on it. This is done by first well slushing it with clean water, so as to wash away all particles of sand, having first closed the sashes to avoid wetting the linings. The body is then gone carefully over with a soft mop, using plenty of clean water, and penetrating into every corner of the carved work, so that not an atom of dirt remains; the body of the carriage is then raised by placing the jack under the axletree and raising it so that the wheel turns freely; this is now thoroughly washed with the mop until the dirt is removed, using a water-brush for corners where the mop does not penetrate. Every particle of mud and sand removed by the mop, and afterwards with a wet sponge, the carriage is wiped dry, and, as soon after as possible, the varnish is carefully polished with soft leather, using a little sweet oil for the leather parts, and even for the panels, so as to check any tendency of the varnish to crack. Stains are removed by rubbing them with the leather and sweet oil; if that fails, a little Tripoli powder mixed with the oil will be more successful. 2227. In preparing the carriage for use, the whole body should be rubbed over with a clean leather and carefully polished, the iron-work and joints oiled, the plated and brass-work occasionally cleaned,--the one with plate-powder, or with well-washed whiting mixed with sweet oil, and leather kept for the purpose,--the other with rottenstone mixed with a little oil, and applied without too much rubbing, until the paste is removed; but, if rubbed every day with the leather, little more will be required to keep it untarnished. The linings require careful brushing every day, the cushions being taken out and beaten, and the glass sashes should always be bright and clean. The wheel-tires and axletree are carefully seen to, and greased when required, the bolts and nuts tightened, and all the parts likely to get out of order overhauled. 2228. These duties, however, are only incidental to the coachman's office, which is to drive; and much of the enjoyment of those in the carriage depends on his proficiency in his art,--much also of the wear of the carriage and horses. He should have sufficient knowledge of the construction of the carriage to know when it is out of order,--to know, also, the pace at which he can go over the road he has under him, without risking the springs, and without shaking those he is driving too much. 2229. Having, with or without the help of the groom or stable-boy, put his horses to the carriage, and satisfied himself, by walking round them, that everything is properly arranged, the coachman proceeds to the off-side of the carriage, takes the reins from the back of the horses, where they were thrown, buckles them together, and, placing his foot on the step, ascends to his box, having his horses now entirely under control. In ordinary circumstances, he is not expected to descend, for where no footman accompanies the carriage, the doors are usually so arranged that even a lady may let herself out, if she wishes it, from the inside. The coachman's duties are to avoid everything approaching an accident, and all his attention is required to guide his horses. 2230. The pace at which he drives will depend upon his orders,--in all probability a moderate pace of seven or eight miles an hour; less speed is injurious to the horses, getting them into lazy and sluggish habits; for it is wonderful how soon these are acquired by some horses. The writer was once employed to purchase a horse for a country friend, and he picked a very handsome gelding out of Collins's stables, which seemed to answer to his friend's wants. It was duly committed to the coachman who was to drive it, after some very successful trials in harness and out of it, and seemed likely to give great satisfaction. After a time, the friend got tired of his carriage, and gave it up; as the easiest mode of getting rid of the horse, it was sent up to the writer's stables,--a present. Only twelve months had elapsed; the horse was as handsome as ever, with plenty of flesh, and a sleek glossy coat, and he was thankfully enough received; but, on trial, it was found that a stupid coachman, who was imbued with one of their old maxims, that "it's the pace that kills," had driven the horse, capable of doing his nine miles an hour with ease, at a jog-trot of four miles, or four and a half; and now, no persuasion of the whip could get more out of him. After many unsuccessful efforts to bring him back to his pace, in one of which a break-down occurred, under the hands of a professional trainer, he was sent to the hammer, and sold for a sum that did not pay for the attempt to break him in. This maxim, therefore, "that it's the pace that kills," is altogether fallacious in the moderate sense in which we are viewing it. In the old coaching days, indeed, when the Shrewsbury "Wonder" drove into the inn yard while the clock was striking, week after week and mouth after month, with unerring regularity, twenty-seven hours to a hundred and sixty-two miles; when the "Quicksilver" mail was timed to eleven miles an hour between London and Plymouth, with a fine of £5 to the driver if behind time; when the Brighton "Age," "tool'd" and horsed by the late Mr. Stevenson, used to dash round the square as the fifth hour was striking, having stopped at the half-way house while his servant handed a sandwich and a glass of sherry to his passengers,--then the pace was indeed "killing." But the truth is, horses that are driven at a jog-trot pace lose that _élan_ with which a good driver can inspire them, and they are left to do their work by mere weight and muscle; therefore, unless he has contrary orders, a good driver will choose a smart pace, but not enough to make his horses perspire: on level roads this should never be seen. 2231. In choosing his horses, every master will see that they are properly paired,--that their paces are about equal. When their habits differ, it is the coachman's duty to discover how he can, with least annoyance to the horses, get that pace out of them. Some horses have been accustomed to be driven on the check, and the curb irritates them; others, with harder mouths, cannot be controlled with the slight leverage this affords; he must, therefore, accommodate the horses as he best can. The reins should always be held so that the horses are "in hand;" but he is a very bad driver who always drives with a tight rein; the pain to the horse is intolerable, and causes him to rear and plunge, and finally break sway, if he can. He is also a bad driver when the reins are always slack; the horse then feels abandoned to himself; he is neither directed nor supported, and if no accident occurs, it is great good luck. 2232. The true coachman's hands are so delicate and gentle, that the mere weight of the reins is felt on the bit, and the directions are indicated by a turn of the wrist rather than by a pull; the horses are guided and encouraged, and only pulled up when they exceed their intended pace, or in the event of a stumble; for there is a strong though gentle hand on the reins. 2233. _The Whip_, in the hands of a good driver, and with well-bred cattle, is there, more as a precaution than a "tool" for frequent use; if he uses it, it is to encourage, by stroking the flanks; except, indeed, he has to punish some waywardness of temper, and then he does it effectually, taking care, however, that it is done on the flank, where there is no very tender part, never on the crupper. In driving, the coachman should never give way to temper. How often do we see horses stumble from being conducted, or at least "allowed," to go over bad ground by some careless driver, who immediately wreaks that vengeance on the poor horse which might, with much more justice, be applied to his own brutal shoulders. The whip is of course useful, and even necessary, but should be rarely used, except to encourage and excite the horses. DUTIES OF THE VALET. 2234. _Attendants on the Person_.-"No man is a hero to his valet," saith the proverb; and the corollary may run, "No lady is a heroine to her maid." The infirmities of humanity are, perhaps, too numerous and too equally distributed to stand the severe microscopic tests which attendants on the person have opportunities of applying. The valet and waiting-maid are placed near the persons of the master and mistress, receiving orders only from them, dressing them, accompanying them in all their journeys, the confidants and agents of their most unguarded moments, of their most secret habits, and of course subject to their commands,--even to their caprices; they themselves being subject to erring judgment, aggravated by an imperfect education. All that can be expected from such servants is polite manners, modest demeanour, and a respectful reserve, which are indispensable. To these, good sense, good temper, some self-denial, and consideration for the feelings of others, whether above or below them in the social scale, will be useful qualifications. Their duty leads them to wait on those who are, from sheer wealth, station, and education, more polished, and consequently more susceptible of annoyance; and any vulgar familiarity of manner is opposed to all their notions of self-respect. Quiet unobtrusive manners, therefore, and a delicate reserve in speaking of their employers, either in praise or blame, is as essential in their absence, as good manners and respectful conduct in their presence. 2235. Some of the duties of the valet we have just hinted at in treating of the duties of the footman in a small family. His day commences by seeing that his master's dressing-room is in order; that the housemaid has swept and dusted it properly; that the fire is lighted and burns cheerfully; and some time before his master is expected, he will do well to throw up the sash to admit fresh air, closing it, however, in time to recover the temperature which he knows his master prefers. It is now his duty to place the body-linen on the horse before the fire, to be aired properly; to lay the trousers intended to be worn, carefully brushed and cleaned, on the back of his master's chair; while the coat and waistcoat, carefully brushed and folded, and the collar cleaned, are laid in their place ready to put on when required. All the articles of the toilet should be in their places, the razors properly set and stropped, and hot water ready for use. 2236. Gentlemen generally prefer performing the operation of shaving themselves, but a valet should be prepared to do it if required; and he should, besides, be a good hairdresser. Shaving over, he has to brush the hair, beard, and moustache, where that appendage is encouraged, arranging the whole simply and gracefully, according to the age and style of countenance. Every fortnight, or three weeks at the utmost, the hair should be cut, and the points of the whiskers trimmed as often as required. A good valet will now present the various articles of the toilet as they are wanted; afterwards, the body-linen, neck-tie, which he will put on, if required, and, afterwards, waistcoat, coat, and boots, in suitable order, and carefully brushed and polished. 2237. Having thus seen his master dressed, if he is about to go out, the valet will hand him his cane, gloves, and hat, the latter well brushed on the outside with a soft brush, and wiped inside with a clean handkerchief, respectfully attend him to the door, and open it for him, and receive his last orders for the day. 2238. He now proceeds to put everything in order in the dressing-room, cleans the combs and brushes, and brushes and folds up any clothes that may be left about the room, and puts them away in the drawers. 2239. Gentlemen are sometimes indifferent as to their clothes and appearance; it is the valet's duty, in this case, where his master permits it, to select from the wardrobe such things as are suitable for the occasion, so that he may appear with scrupulous neatness and cleanliness; that his linen and neck-tie, where that is white or coloured, are unsoiled; and where he is not accustomed to change them every day, that the cravat is turned, and even ironed, to remove the crease of the previous fold. The coat collar,--which where the hair is oily and worn long, is apt to get greasy--should also be examined; a careful valet will correct this by removing the spots day by day as they appear, first by moistening the grease-spots with a little rectified spirits of wine or spirits of hartshorn, which has a renovating effect, and the smell of which soon disappears. The grease is dissolved and removed by gentle scraping. The grease removed, add a little more of the spirit, and rub with a piece of clean cloth; finish by adding a few drops more; rub it with the palm of the hand, in the direction of the grain of the cloth, and it will be clean and glossy as the rest of the garment. 2240. Polish for the boots is an important matter to the valet, and not always to be obtained good by purchase; never so good, perhaps, as he can make for himself after the following recipes:--Take of ivory-black and treacle each 4 oz., sulphuric acid 1 oz., best olive-oil 2 spoonfuls, best white-wine vinegar 3 half-pints: mix the ivory-black and treacle well in an earthen jar; then add the sulphuric acid, continuing to stir the mixture; next pour in the oil; and, lastly, add the vinegar, stirring it in by degrees, until thoroughly incorporated. 241. Another polish is made by mixing 1 oz. each of pounded galls and logwood-chips, and 3 lbs. of red French vine (ordinaire). Boil together till the liquid is reduced to half the quantity, and pour it off through a strainer. Now take 1/2 lb. each of pounded gum-arabic and lump-sugar, 1 oz. of green copperas, and 3 lbs. of brandy. Dissolve the gum-arabic in the preceding decoction, and add the sugar and copperas: when all is dissolved and mixed together, stir in the brandy, mixing it smoothly. This mixture will yield 5 or 6 lbs. of a very superior polishing paste for boots and shoes. 2242. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to add, that having discharged all the commissions intrusted to him by his master, such as conveying notes or messages to friends, or the tradesmen, all of which he should punctually and promptly attend to, it is his duty to be in waiting when his master returns home to dress for dinner, or for any other occasion, and to have all things prepared for this second dressing. Previous to this, he brings under his notice the cards of visitors who may have called, delivers the messages be may have received for him, and otherwise acquits himself of the morning's commissions, and receives his orders for the remainder of the day. The routine of his evening duty is to have the dressing-room and study, where there is a separate one, arranged comfortably for his master, the fires lighted, candles prepared, dressing-gown and slippers in their place, and aired, and everything in order that is required for his master's comforts. FEMALE DOMESTICS. DUTIES OF THE LADY'S-MAID. 2243. The duties of a lady's-maid are more numerous, and perhaps more onerous, than those of the valet; for while the latter is aided by the tailor, the hatter, the linen-draper, and the perfumer, the lady's-maid has to originate many parts of the mistress's dress herself: she should, indeed, be a tolerably expert milliner and dressmaker, a good hairdresser, and possess some chemical knowledge of the cosmetics with which the toilet-table is supplied, in order to use them with safety and effect. Her first duty in the morning, after having performed her own toilet, is to examine the clothes put off by her mistress the evening before, either to put them away, or to see that they are all in order to put on again. During the winter, and in wet weather, the dresses should be carefully examined, and the mud removed. Dresses of tweed, and other woollen materials, may be laid out on a table and brushed all over; but in general, even in woollen fabrics, the lightness of the tissues renders brushing unsuitable to dresses, and it is better to remove the dust from the folds by beating them lightly with a handkerchief or thin cloth. Silk dresses should never be brushed, but rubbed with a piece of merino, or other soft material, of a similar colour, kept for the purpose. Summer dresses of barège, muslin, mohair, and other light materials, simply require shaking; but if the muslin be tumbled, it must be ironed afterwards. If the dresses require slight repair, it should be done at once: "a stitch in time saves nine." 2244. The bonnet should be dusted with a light feather plume, in order to remove every particle of dust; but this has probably been done, as it ought to have been, the night before. Velvet bonnets, and other velvet articles of dress, should be cleaned with a soft brush. If the flowers with which the bonnet is decorated have been crushed or displaced, or the leaves tumbled, they should be raised and readjusted by means of flower-pliers. If feathers have suffered from damp, they should be held near the fire for a few minutes, and restored to their natural state by the hand or a soft brush. 2245. _The Chausserie_, or foot-gear of a lady, is one of the few things left to mark her station, and requires special care. Satin boots or shoes should be dusted with a soft brush, or wiped with a cloth. Kid or varnished leather should have the mud wiped off with a sponge charged with milk, which preserves its softness and polish. The following is also an excellent polish for applying to ladies' boots, instead of blacking them:--Mix equal proportions of sweet-oil, vinegar, and treacle, with 1 oz. of lamp-black. When all the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated, rub the mixture on the boots with the palm of the hand, and put them in a cool place to dry. Ladies' blacking, which may be purchased in 6d, and 1s. bottles, is also very much used for patent leather and kid boots, particularly when they are a little worn. This blacking is merely applied with a piece of sponge, and the boots should not be put on until the blacking is dry und hardened. 2246. These various preliminary offices performed, the lady's-maid should prepare for dressing her mistress, arranging her dressing-room, toilet-table, and linen, according to her mistress's wishes and habits. The details of dressing we need not touch upon,--every lady has her own mode of doing so; but the maid should move about quietly, perform any offices about her mistress's person, as lacing stays, gently, and adjust her linen smoothly. 2247. Having prepared the dressing-room by lighting the fire, sweeping the hearth, and made everything ready for dressing her mistress, placed her linen before the fire to air, and laid out the various articles of dress she is to wear, which will probably have been arranged the previous evening, the lady's-maid is prepared for the morning's duties. 2248. _Hairdressing_ is the most important part of the lady's-maid's office. If ringlets are worn, remove the curl-papers, and, after thoroughly brushing the back hair both above and below, dress it according to the prevailing fashion. If bandeaux are worn, the hair is thoroughly brushed and frizzed outside and inside, folding the hair back round the head, brushing it perfectly smooth, giving it a glossy appearance by the use of pomades, or oil, applied by the palm of the hand, smoothing it down with a small brush dipped in bandoline. Double bandeaux are formed by bringing most of the hair forward, and rolling it over frizettes made of hair the same colour as that of the wearer: it is finished behind by plaiting the hair, and arranging it in such a manner as to look well with the head-dress. 2249. Lessons in hairdressing may be obtained, and at not an unreasonable charge. If a lady's-maid can afford it, we would advise her to initiate herself in the mysteries of hairdressing before entering on her duties. If a mistress finds her maid handy, and willing to learn, she will not mind the expense of a few lessons, which are almost necessary, as the fashion and mode of dressing the hair is so continually changing. Brushes and combs should be kept scrupulously clean, by washing them about twice a week: to do this oftener spoils the brushes, as very frequent washing makes them so very soft. To wash Brushes. 2250. Dissolve a piece of soda in some hot water, allowing a piece the size of a walnut to a quart of water. Put the water into a basin, and, after combing out the hair from the brushes, dip them, bristles downwards, into the water and out again, keeping the backs and handles as free from the water as possible. Repeat this until the bristles look clean; then rinse the brushes in a little cold water; shake them well, and wipe the handles and backs with a towel, _but not the bristles_, and set the brushes to dry in the sun, or near the fire; but take care not to put them too close to it. Wiping the bristles of a brush makes them soft, as does also the use of soap. To clean Combs. 2251. If it can be avoided, never wash combs, as the water often makes the teeth split, and the tortoiseshell or horn of which they are made, rough. Small brushes, manufactured purposely for cleaning combs, may be purchased at a trifling cost: with this the comb should be well brushed, and afterwards wiped with a cloth or towel. A good Wash for the Hair. 2252. INGREDIENTS.--1 pennyworth of borax, 1/2 pint of olive-oil, 1 pint of boiling water. _Mode_.--Pour the boiling water over the borax and oil; let it cool; then put the mixture into a bottle. Shake it before using, and apply it with a flannel. Camphor and borax, dissolved in boiling water and left to cool, make a very good wash for the hair; as also does rosemary-water mixed with a little borax. After using any of these washes, when the hair becomes thoroughly dry, a little pomatum or oil should be rubbed in, to make it smooth and glossy. To make Pomade for the Hair. 2253. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of lard, 2 pennyworth of castor-oil; scent. _Mode_.--Let the lard be unsalted; beat it up well; then add the castor-oil, and mix thoroughly together with a knife, adding a few drops of any scent that may be preferred. Put the pomatum into pots, which keep well covered to prevent it turning rancid. Another Recipe for Pomatum. 2254. INGREDIENTS.--8 oz. of olive-oil, 1 oz. of spermaceti, 3 pennyworth of essential oil of almonds, 3 pennyworth of essence of lemon. _Mode_.--Mix these ingredients together, and store away in jars for use. To make Bandoline. 2555. INGREDIENTS.--1 oz. of gum-tragacanth, 1/4 pint of cold water, 3 pennyworth of essence of almonds, 2 teaspoonfuls of old rum. _Mode_.--Put the gum-tragacanth into a wide-mouthed bottle with the cold water; let it stand till dissolved, then stir into it the essence of almonds; let it remain for an hour or two, when pour the rum on the top. This should make the stock bottle, and when any is required for use, it is merely necessary to dilute it with a little cold water until the desired consistency is obtained, and to keep it in a small bottle, well corked, for use. This bandoline, instead of injuring the hair, as many other kinds often do, improves it, by increasing its growth, and making it always smooth and glossy. An excellent Pomatum. 2256. INGREDIENTS.--1-1/2 lb. of lard, 1/2 pint of olive-oil, 1/2 pint of castor-oil, 4 oz. of spermaceti, bergamot, or any other scent; elder-flower water. _Mode_.--Wash the lard well in the elder-flower water; drain, and beat it to a cream. Mix the two oils together, and heat them sufficiently to dissolve the spermaceti, which should be beaten fine in a mortar. Mix all these ingredients together with the brandy and whatever kind of scent may be preferred; and whilst warm pour into glass bottles for use, keeping them well corked. The best way to liquefy the pomatum is to set the bottle in a saucepan of warm water. It will remain good for many months. To promote the Growth of Hair. 2257. INGREDIENTS.--Equal quantities of olive-oil and spirit of rosemary; a few drops of oil of nutmeg. _Mode_.--Mix the ingredients together, rub the roots of the hair every night with a little of this liniment, and the growth of it will very soon sensibly increase. 2258. Our further remarks on dressing must be confined to some general advice. In putting on a band, see that it is laid quite flat, and is drawn tightly round the waist before it is pinned in front; that the pin is a strong one, and that it is secured to the stays, so as not to slip up or down, or crease in the folds. Arrange the folds of the dress over the crinoline petticoats; if the dress fastens behind, put a small pin in the slit to prevent it from opening. See that the sleeves fall well over the arms. If it is finished with a jacket, or other upper dress, see that it fits smoothly under the arms; pull out the flounces, and spread out the petticoat at the bottom with the hands, so that it falls in graceful folds. In arranging the petticoat itself, a careful lady's-maid will see that this is firmly fastened round the waist. 2259. Where sashes are worn, pin the bows securely on the inside with a pin, so as not to be visible; then raise the bow with the fingers. The collar is arranged and carefully adjusted with brooch or bow in the centre. 2260. Having dressed her mistress for breakfast, and breakfasted herself, the further duties of the lady's-maid will depend altogether upon the habits of the family, in which hardly two will probably agree. Where the duties are entirely confined to attendance on her mistress, it is probable that the bedroom and dressing-room will be committed to her care; that, the housemaid will rarely enter, except for the weekly or other periodical cleaning; she will, therefore, have to make her mistress's bed, and keep it in order; and as her duties are light and easy, there can be no allowance made for the slightest approach to uncleanliness or want of order. Every morning, immediately after her mistress has left it, and while breakfast is on, she should throw the bed open, by taking off the clothes; open the windows (except in rainy weather), and leave the room to air for half an hour. After breakfast, except her attendance on her mistress prevents it, if the rooms are carpeted, she should sweep them carefully, having previously strewed the room with moist tea-leaves, dusting every table and chair, taking care to penetrate to every corner, and moving every article of furniture that is portable. This done satisfactorily, and having cleaned the dressing-glass, polished up the furniture and the ornaments, and made the glass jug and basin clean and bright, emptied all slops, emptied the water-jugs and filled them with fresh water, and arranged the rooms, the dressing-room is ready for the mistress when she thinks proper to appear. 2261. The dressing-room thoroughly in order, the same thing is to be done in the bedroom, in which she will probably be assisted by the housemaid to make the bed and empty the slops. In making the bed, she will study her lady's wishes, whether it is to be hard or soft, sloping or straight, and see that it is done accordingly. 2262. Having swept the bedroom with equal care, dusted the tables and chairs, chimney-ornaments, and put away all articles of dress left from yesterday, and cleaned and put away any articles of jewellery, her next care is to see, before her mistress goes out, what requires replacing in her department, and furnish her with a list of them, that she may use her discretion about ordering them. All this done, she may settle herself down to any work on which she is engaged. This will consist chiefly in mending; which is first to be seen to; everything, except stockings, being mended before washing. Plain work will probably be one of the lady's-maid's chief employments. 2263. A waiting-maid, who wishes to make herself useful, will study the fashion-books with attention, so as to be able to aid her mistress's judgment in dressing, according to the prevailing fashion, with such modifications as her style of countenance requires. She will also, if she has her mistress's interest at heart, employ her spare time in repairing and making up dresses which have served one purpose, to serve another also, or turning many things, unfitted for her mistress to use, for the younger branches of the family. The lady's-maid may thus render herself invaluable to her mistress, and increase her own happiness in so doing. The exigencies of fashion and luxury are such, that all ladies, except those of the very highest rank, will consider themselves fortunate in having about them a thoughtful person, capable of diverting their finery to a useful purpose. 2264. Among other duties, the lady's-maid should understand the various processes for washing, and cleaning, and repairing laces; edging of collars; removing stains and grease-spots from dresses, and similar processes, for which the following recipes will be found very useful. In washing-- 2265. _Blonde_, fine toilet-soap is used; the blonde is soaped over very slightly, and washed in water in which a little fig-blue is dissolved, rubbing it very gently; when clean, dry it. Dip it afterwards in very thin gum-water, dry it again in linen, spread it out as flat as it will lie, and iron it. Where the blonde is of better quality, and wider, it may be stretched on a hoop to dry after washing in the blue-water, applying the gum with a sponge; or it may be washed finally in water in which a lump of sugar has been dissolved, which gives it more the appearance of new blonde. 2266. Lace collars soil very quickly when in contact with the neck; they are cleaned by beating the edge of the collar between the folds of a fine linen cloth, then washing the edges as directed above, and spreading it out on an ironing-board, pinning it at each corner with fine pins; then going carefully over it with a sponge charged with water in which some gum-dragon and fig-blue have been dissolved, to give it a proper consistence. To give the collar the same tint throughout, the whole collar should be sponged with the same water, taking care not to touch the flowers. 2267. A multiplicity of accidents occur to soil and spot dresses, which should be removed at once. To remove-- 2268. _Grease-spots_ from cotton or woollen materials of fast colours, absorbent pastes, purified bullock's-blood, and even common soap, are used, applied to the spot when dry. When the colours are not fast, use fuller's-earth or pulverized potter's-clay, laid in a layer over the spot, and press it with a very hot iron. 2269. For Silks, Moires, and plain or brocaded Satins, begin by pouring over the spot two drops of rectified spirits of wine; cover it over with a linen cloth, and press it with a hot iron, changing the linen instantly. The spot will look tarnished, for a portion of the grease still remains: this will be removed entirely by a little sulphuric ether dropped on the spot, and a very little rubbing. If neatly done, no perceptible mark or circle will remain; nor will the lustre of the richest silk be changed, the union of the two liquids operating with no injurious effects from rubbing. 2270. _Fruit-spots_ are removed from white and fast-coloured cottons by the use of chloride of soda. Commence by cold-soaping the article, then touch the spot with a hair-pencil or feather dipped in the chloride, dipping it immediately into cold water, to prevent the texture of the article being injured. 2271. _Ink-spots_ are removed, when fresh applied to the spot, by a few drops of hot water being poured on immediately afterwards. By the same process, iron-mould in linen or calico may be removed, dipping immediately in cold water to prevent injury to the fabric. 2272. _Wax_ dropped on a shawl, table-cover, or cloth dress, is easily discharged by applying spirits of wine. 2273. _Syrups or Preserved Fruits_, by washing in lukewarm water with a dry cloth, and pressing the spot between two folds of clean linen. 2274. _Essence of Lemon_ will remove grease, but will make a spot itself in a few days. To clean Silk or Ribbons. 2275. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of gin, 1/2 lb. of honey, 1/2 lb. of soft soap, 1/2 pint of water. _Mode_.--Mix the above ingredients together; then lay each breadth of silk upon a clean kitchen table or dresser, and scrub it well on the soiled side with the mixture. Have ready three vessels of cold water; take each piece of silk at two corners, and dip it up and down in each vessel, but do not wring it; and take care that each breadth has one vessel of quite clean water for the last dip. Hang it up dripping for a minute or two, then dab it in a cloth, and iron it quickly with a very hot iron. To remove Paint-spots from Silk Cloth. 2276. If the fabric will bear it, sharp rubbing will frequently entirely discharge a newly-made paint-stain; but, if this is not successful, apply spirit of turpentine with a quill till the stains disappear. To make old Crape look nearly equal to new. 2277. Place a little water in a teakettle, and let it boil until there is plenty of steam from the spout; then, holding the crape in both hands, pass it to and fro several times through the steam, and it will to clean and look nearly equal to new. 2278. Linen.--Before sending linen to wash, the lady's-maid should see that everything under her charge is properly mended; for her own sake she should take care that it is sent out in an orderly manner, each class of garments by themselves, with a proper list, of which she retains a copy. On its return, it is still more necessary to examine every piece separately, so that all missing buttons be supplied, and only the articles properly washed and in perfect repair passed into the wardrobe. 2279. Ladies who keep a waiting-maid for their own persons are in the habit of paying visits to their friends, in which it is not unusual for the maid to accompany them; at all events, it is her duty to pack the trunks; and this requires not only knowledge but some practice, although the improved trunks and portmanteaus now made, in which there is a place for nearly everything, render this more simple than formerly. Before packing, let the trunks be thoroughly well cleaned, and, if necessary, lined with paper, and everything intended for packing laid out on the bed or chairs, so that it may be seen what is to be stowed away; the nicer articles of dress neatly folded in clean calico wrappers. Having satisfied herself that everything wanted is laid out, and that it is in perfect order, the packing is commenced by disposing of the most bulky articles, the dressing-case and work-box, skirts, and other articles requiring room, leaving the smaller articles to fill up; finally, having satisfied herself that all is included, she should lock and cover up the trunk in its canvas case, and then pack her own box, if she is to accompany her mistress. 2280. On reaching the house, the lady's-maid will be shown her lady's apartment; and her duties here are what they were at home; she will arrange her mistress's things, and learn which is her bell, in order to go to her when she rings. Her meals will be taken in the housekeeper's room; and here she must be discreet and guarded in her talk to any one of her mistress or her concerns. Her only occupation here will be attending in her lady's room, keeping her things in order, and making her rooms comfortable for her. 2281. The evening duties of a lady's-maid are pretty nearly a repetition of those of the morning. She is in attendance when her mistress retires; she assists her to undress if required, brushes her hair, and renders such other assistance as is demanded; removes all slops; takes care that the fire, if any, is safe, before she retires to rest herself. 2282. Ironing is a part of the duties of a lady's-maid, and she should be able to do it in the most perfect manner when it becomes necessary. Ironing is often badly done from inattention to a few very simple requirements. Cleanliness is the first essential: the ironing-board, the fire, the iron, and the ironing-blanket should all be perfectly clean. It will not be necessary here to enter into details on ironing, as full directions are given in the "Duties of the Laundry-maid." A lady's-maid will have a great deal of "Ironing-out" to do; such as light evening dresses, muslin dresses, &c., which are not dirty enough to be washed, but merely require smoothing out to remove the creases. In summer, particularly, an iron will be constantly required, as also a skirt-board, which should be covered with a nice clean piece of flannel. To keep muslin dresses in order, they almost require smoothing out every time they are worn, particularly if made with many flounces. The lady's-maid may often have to perform little services for her mistress which require care; such as restoring the colour to scorched linen, &c. &c. The following recipe is, we believe, a very good one. To restore Whiteness to scorched Linen. 2283. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 pint of vinegar, 2 oz. of fuller's-earth, 1 oz. of dried fowls' dung, 1/2 oz. of soap, the juice of 2 large onions. _Mode._--Boil all these ingredients together to the consistency of paste; spread the composition thickly over the damaged part, and if the threads be not actually consumed, after it has been allowed to dry on, and the place has subsequently been washed once or twice, every trace of scorching will disappear. 2284. _Furs, Feathers, and Woollens_ require the constant care of the waiting-maid. Furs and feathers not in constant use should be wrapped up in linen washed in lye. From May to September they are subject to being made the depositary of the moth-eggs. They should be looked too, and shaken and beaten, from time to time, in case some of the eggs should have been lodged in them, in spite of every precaution; laying them up again, or rather folding them up as before, wrapping them in brown paper, which is itself a preservative. Shawls and cloaks, which would be damaged by such close folds, must be looked to, and aired and beaten, putting them away dry before the evening. Preservatives against the Ravages of Moths. 2285. Place pieces of camphor, cedar-wood, Russia leather, tobacco-leaves, bog-myrtle, or anything else strongly aromatic, in the drawers or boxes where furs or other things to be preserved from moths are kept, and they will never take harm. 2286. _Jewels_ are generally wrapped up in cotton, and kept in their cases; but they are subject to tarnish from exposure to the air, and require cleaning. This is done by preparing clean soap-suds, using fine toilet-soap. Dip any article of gold, silver, gilt, or precious stones into this lye, and dry them by brushing with a brush of soft badgers' hair, or a fine sponge; afterwards with a piece of fine cloth, and, lastly, with a soft leather. 2287. _Epaulettes_ of gold or silver, and, in general, all articles of jewellery, may be dressed by dipping them in spirits of wine warmed in a _bain marie,_ or shallow kettle, placed over a slow fire or hot-plate. 2288. The valet and lady's-maid, from their supposed influence with their master and mistress, are exposed to some temptations to which other servants are less subjected. They are probably in communication with the tradespeople who supply articles for the toilet; such as batters, tailors, dressmakers, and perfumers. The conduct of waiting-maid and valet to these people should be civil but independent, making reasonable allowance for want of exact punctuality, if any such can be made: they should represent any inconvenience respectfully, and if an excuse seems unreasonable, put the matter fairly to master or mistress, leaving it to them to notice it further, if they think it necessary. No expectations of a personal character should influence them one way or the other. It would be acting unreasonably to any domestic to make them refuse such presents as tradespeople choose to give them; the utmost that can be expected is that they should not influence their judgment in the articles supplied--that they should represent them truly to master or mistress, without fear and without favour. Civility to all, servility to none, is a good maxim for every one. Deference to a master and mistress, and to their friends and visitors, is one of the implied terms of their engagement; and this deference must apply even to what may be considered their whims. A servant is not to be seated, or wear a hat in the house, in his master's or mistress's presence; nor offer any opinion, unless asked for it; nor even to say "good night," or "good morning," except in reply to that salutation. To preserve cut Flowers. 2289. A bouquet of freshly-cut flowers may be preserved alive for a long time by placing them in a glass or vase with fresh water, in which a little charcoal has been steeped, or a small piece of camphor dissolved. The vase should be set upon a plate or dish, and covered with a bell-glass, around the edges of which, when it comes in contact with the plate, a little water should be poured to exclude the air. To revive cut Flowers after packing. 2290. Plunge the stems into boiling water, and by the time the water is cold, the flowers will have revived. Then cut afresh the ends of the stems, and keep them in fresh cold water. UPPER AND UNDER HOUSEMAIDS. 2291. Housemaids, in large establishments, have usually one or more assistants; in this case they are upper and under housemaids. Dividing the work between them, the upper housemaid will probably reserve for herself the task of dusting the ornaments and cleaning the furniture of the principal apartments, but it is her duty to see that every department is properly attended to. The number of assistants depends on the number in the family, as well as on the style in which the establishment is kept up. In wealthy families it is not unusual for every grown-up daughter to have her waiting-maid, whose duty it is to keep her mistress's apartments in order, thus abridging the housemaid's duties. In others, perhaps, one waiting-maid attends on two or three, when the housemaid's assistance will be more requisite. In fact, every establishment has some customs peculiar to itself, on which we need not dwell; the general duties are the _same in all_, perfect cleanliness and order being the object. DUTIES OF THE HOUSEMAID. 2292. "Cleanliness is next to godliness," saith the proverb, and "order" is in the next degree; the housemaid, then, may be said to be the handmaiden to two of the most prominent virtues. Her duties are very numerous, and many of the comforts of the family depend on their performance; but they are simple and easy to a person naturally clean and orderly, and desirous of giving satisfaction. In all families, whatever the habits of the master and mistress, servants will find it advantageous to rise early; their daily work will thus come easy to them. If they rise late, there is a struggle to overtake it, which throws an air of haste and hurry over the whole establishment. Where the master's time is regulated by early business or professional engagements, this will, of course, regulate the hours of the servants; but even where that is not the case, servants will find great personal convenience in rising early and getting through their work in an orderly and methodical manner. The housemaid who studies her own ease will certainly be at her work by six o'clock in the summer, and, probably, half-past six or seven in the winter months, having spent a reasonable time in her own chamber in dressing. Earlier than this would, probably, be an unnecessary waste of coals and candle in winter. 2293. The first duty of the housemaid in winter is to open the shutters of all the lower rooms in the house, and take up the hearth-rugs of those rooms which she is going to "do" before breakfast. In some families, where there is only a cook and housemaid kept, and where the drawing-rooms are large, the cook has the care of the dining-room, and the housemaid that of the breakfast-room, library, and drawing-rooms. After the shutters are all opened, she sweeps the breakfast-room, sweeping the dust towards the fire-place, of course previously removing the fonder. She should then lay a cloth (generally made of coarse wrappering) over the carpet in front of the stove, and on this should place her housemaid's box, containing black-lead brushes, leathers, emery-paper, cloth, black lead, and all utensils necessary for cleaning a grate, with the cinder-pail on the other side. [Illustration: CARPET-BROOMS.] 2294. She now sweeps up the ashes, and deposits them in her cinder-pail, which is a japanned tin pail, with a wire-sifter inside, and a closely-fitting top. In this pail the cinders are sifted, and reserved for use in the kitchen or under the copper, the ashes only being thrown away. The cinders disposed of, she proceeds to black-lead the grate, producing the black lead, the soft brush for laying it on, her blacking and polishing brushes, from the box which contains her tools. This housemaid's box should be kept well stocked. Having blackened, brushed, and polished every part, and made all clean and bright, she now proceeds to lay the fire. Sometimes it is very difficult to get a proper polish to black grates, particularly if they have been neglected, and allowed to rust at all. Brunswick black, which is an excellent varnish for grates, may be prepared in the following manner:-- [Illustration: STOVE BRUSHES.] [Illustration: HOUSEMAID'S BOX.] 2295. INGREDIENTS.--1 lb. of common asphaltum, 1/2 pint of linseed oil, 1 quart of oil of turpentine. _Mode._--Melt the asphaltum, and add gradually to it the other two ingredients. Apply this with a small painter's brush, and leave it to become perfectly dry. The grate will need no other cleaning, but will merely require dusting every day, and occasionally brushing with a dry black-lead brush. This is, of course, when no fires are used. When they are required, the bars, cheeks, and back of the grate will need black-leading in the usual manner. 2296. _Fire-lighting,_ however simple, is an operation requiring some skill; a fire is readily made by laying a few cinders at the bottom in open order; over this a few pieces of paper, and over that again eight or ten pieces of dry wood; over the wood, a course of moderate-sized pieces of coal, taking care to leave hollow spaces between for air at the centre; and taking care to lay the whole well back in the grate, so that the smoke may go up the chimney, and not into the room. This done, fire the paper with a match from below, and, if properly laid, it will soon burn up; the stream of flame from the wood and paper soon communicating to the coals and cinders, provided there is plenty of air at the centre. 2297. A new method of lighting a fire is sometimes practised with advantage, the fire lighting from the top and burning down, in place of being lighted and burning up from below. This is arranged by laying the coals at the bottom, mixed with a few good-sized cinders, and the wood at the top, with another layer of coals and some paper over it; the paper is lighted in the usual way, and soon burns down to a good fire, with some economy of fuel, as is said. 2298. Bright grates require unceasing attention to keep them in perfect order. A day should never pass without the housemaid rubbing with a dry leather the polished parts of a grate, as also the fender and fire-irons. A careful and attentive housemaid should have no occasion ever to use emery-paper for any part but the bars, which, of course, become blackened by the fire. (Some mistresses, to save labour, have a double set of bars, one set bright for the summer, and another black set to use when fires are in requisition.) When bright grates are once neglected, small rust-spots begin to show themselves, which a plain leather will not remove; the following method of cleaning them must then be resorted to:--First, thoroughly clean with emery-paper; then take a large smooth pebble from the road, sufficiently large to hold comfortably in the hand, with which rub the steel backwards and forwards one way, until the desired polish is obtained. It may appear at first to scratch, but continue rubbing, and the result will be success. The following is also an excellent polish for bright stoves and steel articles:-- 2299. INGREDIENTS.--1 tablespoonful of turpentine, 1 ditto of sweet oil, emery powder. _Mode._--Mix the turpentine and sweet oil together, stirring in sufficient emery powder to make the mixture of the thickness of cream. Put it on the article with a piece of soft flannel, rub off quickly with another piece, then polish with a little dry emery powder and clean leather. 2300. The several fires lighted, the housemaid proceeds with her dusting, and polishing the several pieces of furniture in the breakfast-parlour, leaving no corner unvisited. Before sweeping the carpet, it is a good practice to sprinkle it all over with tea-leaves, which not only lay all dust, but give a slightly fragrant smell to the room. It is now in order for the reception of the family; and where there is neither footman nor parlour-maid, she now proceeds to the dressing-room, and lights her mistress's fire, if she is in the habit of having one to dress by. Her mistress is called, hot water placed in the dressing-room for her use, her clothes--as far as they are under the house-maid's charge--put before the fire to air, hanging a fire-guard on the bars where there is one, while she proceeds to prepare the breakfast. 2301. In summer the housemaid's work is considerably abridged: she throws open the windows of the several rooms not occupied as bedrooms, that they may receive the fresh morning air before they are occupied; she prepares the breakfast-room by sweeping the carpet, rubbing tables and chairs, dusting mantel-shelf and picture-frames with a light brush, dusting the furniture, and beating and sweeping the rug; she cleans the grate when necessary, and replaces the white paper or arranges the shavings with which it is filled, leaving everything clean and tidy for breakfast. It is not enough, however, in cleaning furniture, just to pass lightly over the surface; the rims and legs of tables, and the backs and legs of chairs and sofas, should be rubbed vigorously daily; if there is a book-case, every corner of every pane and ledge requires to be carefully wiped, so that not a speck of dust can be found in the room. 2302. After the breakfast-room is finished, the housemaid should proceed to sweep down the stairs, commencing at the top, whilst the cook has the charge of the hall, door-step, and passages. After this she should go into the drawing-room, cover up every article of furniture that is likely to spoil, with large dusting-sheets, and put the chairs together, by turning them seat to seat, and, in fact, make as much room as possible, by placing all the loose furniture in the middle of the room, whilst she sweeps the corners and sides. When this is accomplished, the furniture can then be put back in its place, and the middle of the room swept, sweeping the dirt, as before said, towards the fireplace. The same rules should be observed in cleaning the drawing-room grates as we have just stated, putting down the cloth, before commencing, to prevent the carpet from getting soiled. In the country, a room would not require sweeping thoroughly like this more than twice a week; but the housemaid should go over it every morning with a dust-pan and broom, taking up every crumb and piece she may see. After the sweeping she should leave the room, shut the door, and proceed to lay the breakfast. Where there is neither footman nor parlour-maid kept, the duty of laying the breakfast-cloth rests on the housemaid. [Illustration: BANISTER-BROOM.] [Illustration: STAIRCASE-BROOM.] 2303. Before laying the cloth for breakfast, the heater of the tea-urn is to be placed in the hottest part of the kitchen fire; or, where the kettle is used, boiled on the kitchen fire, and then removed to the parlour, where it is kept hot. Having washed herself free from the dust arising from the morning's work, the housemaid collects the breakfast-things on her tray, takes the breakfast-cloth from the napkin press, and carries them all on the tray into the parlour; arranges them on the table, placing a sufficiency of knives, forks, and salt-cellars for the family, and takes the tray back to the pantry; gets a supply of milk, cream, and bread; fills the butter-dish, taking care that the salt is plentiful, and soft and dry, and that hot plates and egg-cups are ready where warm meat or eggs are served, and that butter-knife and bread-knife are in their places. And now she should give the signal for breakfast, holding herself ready to fill the urn with hot water, or hand the kettle, and take in the rolls, toast, and other eatables, with which the cook supplies her, when the breakfast-room bell rings; bearing in mind that she is never to enter the parlour with dirty hands or with a dirty apron, and that everything is to be handed on a tray; that she is to hand everything she may be required to supply, on the left hand of the person she is serving, and that all is done quietly and without bustle or hurry. In some families, where there is a large number to attend on, the cook waits at breakfast whilst the housemaid is busy upstairs in the bedrooms, or sweeping, dusting, and putting the drawing-room in order. 2304. Breakfast served, the housemaid proceeds to the bed-chambers, throws up the sashes, if not already done, pulls up the blinds, throwing back curtains at the same time, and opens the beds, by removing the clothes, placing them over a horse, or, failing that, over the backs of chairs. She now proceeds to empty the slops. In doing this, everything is emptied into the slop-pail, leaving a little scalding-hot water for a minute in such vessels as require it; adding a drop of turpentine to the water, when that is not sufficient to cleanse them. The basin is emptied, well rinsed with clean water, and carefully wiped; the ewers emptied and washed; finally, the water-jugs themselves emptied out and rinsed, and wiped dry. As soon as this is done, she should remove and empty the pails, taking care that they also are well washed, scalded, and wiped as soon as they are empty. 2305. Next follows bedmaking, at which the cook or kitchen-maid, where one is kept, usually assists; but, before beginning, velvet chairs, or other things injured by dust, should be removed to another room. In bedmaking, the fancy of its occupant should be consulted; some like beds sloping from the top towards the feet, swelling slightly in the middle; others, perfectly flat: a good housemaid will accommodate each bed to the taste of the sleeper, taking care to shake, beat, and turn it well in the process. Some persons prefer sleeping on the mattress; in which case a feather bed is usually beneath, resting on a second mattress, and a straw paillasse at the bottom. In this case, the mattresses should change places daily; the feather bed placed on the mattress shaken, beaten, taken up and opened several times, so as thoroughly to separate the feathers: if too large to be thus handled, the maid should shake and beat one end first, and then the other, smoothing it afterwards equally all over into the required shape, and place the mattress gently over it. Any feathers which escape in this process a tidy servant will put back through the seam of the tick; she will also be careful to sew up any stitch that gives way the moment it is discovered. The bedclothes are laid on, beginning with an under blanket and sheet, which are tucked under the mattress at the bottom. The bolster is then beaten and shaken, and put on, the top of the sheet rolled round it, and the sheet tucked in all round. The pillows and other bedclothes follow, and the counterpane over all, which should fall in graceful folds, and at equal distance from the ground all round. The curtains are drawn to the head and folded neatly across the bed, and the whole finished in a smooth and graceful manner. Where spring-mattresses are used, care should be taken that the top one is turned every day. The housemaid should now take up in a dustpan any pieces that may be on the carpet; she should dust the room, shut the door, and proceed to another room. When all the bedrooms are finished, she should dust the stairs, and polish the handrail of the banisters, and see that all ledges, window-sills, &c., are quite free from dust. It will be necessary for the housemaid to divide her work, so that she may not have too much to do on certain days, and not sufficient to fill up her time on other days. In the country, bedrooms should be swept and thoroughly cleaned once a week; and to be methodical and regular in her work, the housemaid should have certain days for doing certain rooms thoroughly. For instance, the drawing-room on Monday, two bedrooms on Tuesday, two on Wednesday, and so on, reserving a day for thoroughly cleaning the plate, bedroom candlesticks, &c. &c., which she will have to do where there is no parlour-maid or footman kept. By this means the work will be divided, and there will be no unnecessary bustling and hurrying, as is the case where the work is done any time, without rule or regulation. [Illustration: SCRUBBING-BRUSH.] 2306. Once a week, when a bedroom is to be thoroughly cleaned, the house-maid should commence by brushing the mattresses of the bed before it is made; she should then make it, shake the curtains, lay them smoothly on the bed, and pin or tuck up the bottom valance, so that she may be able to sweep under the bed. She should then unloop the window-curtains, shake them, and pin them high up out of the way. After clearing the dressing-table, and the room altogether of little articles of china, &c. &c., she should shake the toilet-covers, fold them up, and lay them on the bed, over which a large dusting-sheet should be thrown. She should then sweep the room; first of all sprinkling the carpet with well-squeezed tea-leaves, or a little freshly-pulled grass, when this is obtainable. After the carpet is swept, and the grate cleaned, she should wash with soap and water, with a little soda in it, the washing-table apparatus, removing all marks or fur round the jugs, caused by the water. The water-bottles and tumblers must also have her attention, as well as the top of the washing-stand, which should be cleaned with soap and flannel if it be marble: if of polished mahogany, no soap must be used. When these are all clean and arranged in their places, the housemaid should scrub the floor where it is not covered with carpet, under the beds, and round the wainscot. She should use as little soap and soda as possible, as too free a use of these articles is liable to give the boards a black appearance. In the country, cold soft water, a clean scrubbing-brush, and a willing arm, are all that are required to make bedroom floors look white. In winter it is not advisable to scrub rooms too often, as it is difficult to dry them thoroughly at that season of the year, and nothing is more dangerous than to allow persons to sleep in a damp room. The housemaid should now dust the furniture, blinds, ornaments, &c.; polish the looking-glass; arrange the toilet-cover and muslin; remove the cover from the bed, and straighten and arrange the curtains and counterpane. A bedroom should be cleaned like this every week. There are times, however, when it is necessary to have the carpet up; this should be done once a year in the country, and twice a year in large cities. The best time for these arrangements is spring and autumn, when the bed-furniture requires changing to suit the seasons of the year. After arranging the furniture, it should all be well rubbed and polished; and for this purpose the housemaid should provide herself with an old silk pocket-handkerchief, to finish the polishing. [Illustration: LONG HAIR-BROOM.] 2307. As modern furniture is now nearly always French-polished, it should often be rubbed with an old silk rubber, or a fine cloth or duster, to keep it free from smears. Three or four times a year any of the following polishes may be applied with very great success, as any of them make French-polished furniture look very well. One precaution must be taken,--not to put too much of the polish on at one time, and _to rub, not smear_ it over the articles. FURNITURE POLISH. 2308. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 pint of linseed-oil, 1/4 pint of vinegar, 1 oz. of spirits of salts, 1/2 oz. of muriatic antimony. _Mode_.--Mix all well together, and shake before using. FURNITURE POLISH. 2309. INGREDIENTS.--Equal proportions of linseed-oil, turpentine, vinegar, and spirits of wine. _Mode_.--When used, shake the mixture well, and rub on the furniture with a piece of linen rag, and polish with a clean duster. Vinegar and oil, rubbed in with flannel, and the furniture rubbed with a clean duster, produce a very good polish. FURNITURE PASTE. 2310. INGREDIENTS.--3 oz. of common beeswax, 1 oz. of white wax, 1 oz. of curd soap, 1 pint of turpentine, 1 pint of boiled water. [Illustration: FURNITURE BRUSH.] _Mode_.--Mix the ingredients together, adding the water when cold; shake the mixture frequently in the bottle, and do not use it for 48 hours after it is made. It should be applied with a piece of flannel, the furniture polished with a duster, and then with an old silk rubber. 2311. The chambers are finished, the chamber candlesticks brought down and cleaned, the parlour lamps trimmed;--and here the housemaid's utmost care is required. In cleaning candlesticks, as in every other cleaning, she should have cloths and brushes kept for that purpose alone; the knife used to scrape them should be applied to no other purpose; the tallow-grease should be thrown into a box kept for the purpose; the same with everything connected with the lamp-trimming; the best mode of doing which she will do well to learn from the tradesman who supplies the oil; always bearing in mind, however, that without perfect cleanliness, which involves occasional scalding, no lamp can be kept in order. 2312. The drawing and dining-room, inasmuch as everything there is more costly and valuable, require even more care. When the carpets are of the kind known as velvet-pile, they require to be swept firmly by a hard whisk brush, made of cocoanut fibre. 2313. The furniture must be carefully gone over in every corner with a soft cloth, that it may be left perfectly free from dust; or where that is beyond reach, with a brush made of long feathers, or a goose's wing. The sofas are swept in the same manner, slightly beaten, the cushions shaken and smoothed, the picture-frames swept, and everything arranged in its proper place. This, of course, applies to dining as well as drawing-room and morning-room. And now the housemaid may dress herself for the day, and prepare for the family dinner, at which she must attend. 2314. We need not repeat the long instructions already given for laying the dinner-table. At the family dinner, even where no footman waits, the routine will be the same. In most families the cloth is laid with the slips on each side, with napkins, knives, forks, spoons, and wine and finger glasses on all occasions. [Illustration: BUTLER'S TRAY AND STAND.] 2315. She should ascertain that her plate is in order, glasses free from smears, water-bottles and decanters the same, and everything ready on her tray, that she may be able to lay her cloth properly. Few things add more to the neat and comfortable appearance of a dinner-table than well-polished plate; indeed, the state of the plate is a certain indication of a well-managed or ill-managed household. Nothing is easier than to keep plate in good order, and yet many servants, from stupidity and ignorance, make it the greatest trouble of all things under their care. It should be remembered, that it is utterly impossible to make greasy silver take a polish; and that as spoons and forks in daily use are continually in contact with grease, they must require good washing in soap-and-water to remove it. Silver should be washed with a soapy flannel in one water, rinsed in another, and then wiped dry with a dry cloth. The plate so washed may be polished with the plate-rags, as in the following directions:--Once a week all the plate should receive a thorough cleaning with the hartshorn powder, as directed in the first recipe for cleaning plate; and where the housemaid can find time, rubbed every day with the plate-rags. 2316. Hartshorn, we may observe, is one of the best possible ingredients for plate-powder in daily use. It leaves on the silver a deep, dark polish, and at the same time does less injury than anything else. It has also the advantage of being very cheap; almost all the ordinary powders sold in boxes containing more or less of quicksilver, in some form or another; and this in process of time is sure to make the plate brittle. If any one wishes to be convinced of the effect of quicksilver on plate, he has only to rub a little of it on one place for some time,--on the handle of a silver teaspoon for instance, and he will find it break in that spot with very little pressure. To Clean Plate. _A very excellent method._ [Illustration: PLATE-BRUSH.] 2317. Wash the plate well to remove all grease, in a strong lather of common yellow soap and boiling water, and wipe it quite dry; then mix as much hartshorn powder as will be required, into a thick paste, with cold water or spirits of wine; smear this lightly over the plate with a piece of soft rag, and leave it for some little time to dry. When perfectly dry, brush it off quite clean with a soft plate-brush, and polish the plate with a dry leather. If the plate be very dirty, or much tarnished, spirits of wine will be found to answer better than the water for mixing the paste. Plate-rags for daily use. 2318. Boil soft rags (nothing is better for the purpose than the tops of old cotton stockings) in a mixture of new milk and hartshorn powder, in the proportion of 1 oz. of powder to a pint of milk; boil them for 5 minutes; wring them as soon as they are taken out, for a moment, in cold water, and dry them before the fire. With these rags rub the plate briskly as soon as it has been well washed and dried after daily use. A most beautiful deep polish will be produced, and the plate will require nothing more than merely to be dusted with a leather or a dry soft cloth, before it is again put on the table. 2319. For waiting at table, the housemaid should be neatly and cleanly dressed, and, if possible, her dress made with closed sleeves, the large open ones dipping and falling into everything on the table, and being very much in the way. She should not wear creaking boots, and should move about the room as noiselessly as possible, anticipating people's wants by handing them things without being asked for them, and altogether be as quiet as possible. It will be needless here to repeat what we have already said respecting waiting at table, in the duties of the butler and footman: rules that are good to be observed by them, are equally good for the parlour-maid or housemaid. 2320. The housemaid having announced that dinner is on the table, will hand the soup, fish, meat, or side-dishes to the different members of the family; but in families who do not spend much of the day together, they will probably prefer being alone at dinner and breakfast; the housemaid will be required, after all are helped, if her master does not wish her to stay in the room, to go on with her work of cleaning up in the pantry, and answer the bell when rung. In this case she will place a pile of plates on the table or a dumbwaiter, within reach of her master and mistress, and leave the room. [Illustration: CRUMB-BRUSH]. 2321. Dinner over, the housemaid removes the plates and dishes on the tray, places the dirty knives and forks in the basket prepared for them, folds up the napkins in the ring which indicates by which member of the family it has been used, brushes off the crumbs on the hand-tray kept for the purpose, folds up the table-cloth in the folds already made, and places it in the linen-press to be smoothed out. After every meal the table should be rubbed, all marks from hot plates removed, and the table-cover thrown over, and the room restored to its usual order. If the family retire to the drawing-room, or any other room, it is a good practice to throw up the sash to admit fresh air and ventilate the room. 2322. The housemaid's evening service consists in washing up the dinner-things, the plate, plated articles, and glasses, restoring everything to its place; cleaning up her pantry, and putting away everything for use when next required; lastly, preparing for tea, as the time approaches, by setting the things out on the tray, getting the urn or kettle ready, with cream and other things usually partaken of at that meal. 2323. In summer-time the windows of all the bedrooms, which have been closed during the heat of the day, should be thrown open for an hour or so after sunset, in order to air them. Before dark they should be closed, the bedclothes turned down, and the night-clothes laid in order for use when required. During winter, where fires are required in the dressing-rooms, they should be lighted an hour before the usual time of retiring, placing a fire-guard before each fire. At the same time, the night-things on the horse should be placed before it to be aired, with a tin can of hot water, if the mistress is in the habit of washing before going to bed. We may add, that there is no greater preservative of beauty than washing the face every night in hot water. The housemaid will probably be required to assist her mistress to undress and put her dress in order for the morrow; in which case her duties are very much those of the lady's-maid. 2324. And now the fire is made up for the night, the fireguard replaced, and everything in the room in order for the night, the housemaid taking care to leave the night-candle and matches together in a convenient place, should they be required. It is usual in summer to remove all highly fragrant flowers from sleeping-rooms, the impression being that their scent is injurious in a close chamber. 2325. On leisure days, the housemaid should be able to do some needlework for her mistress,--such as turning and mending sheets and darning the house linen, or assist her in anything she may think fit to give her to do. For this reason it is almost essential that a housemaid, in a small family, should be an expert needlewoman; as, if she be a good manager and an active girl, she will have time on her hands to get through plenty of work. 2326. _Periodical Cleanings_.--Besides the daily routine which we have described, there are portions of every house which can only be thoroughly cleaned occasionally; at which time the whole house usually undergoes a more thorough cleaning than is permitted in the general way. On these occasions it is usual to begin at the top of the house and clean downwards; moving everything out of the room; washing the wainscoting or paint with soft soap and water; pulling down the beds and thoroughly cleansing all the joints; "scrubbing" the floor; beating feather beds, mattress, and paillasse, and thoroughly purifying every article of furniture before it is put back in its place. 2327. This general cleaning usually takes place in the spring or early summer, when the warm curtains of winter are replaced by the light and cheerful muslin curtains. Carpets are at the same time taken up and beaten, except where the mistress of the house has been worried into an experiment by the often-reiterated question, "Why beat your carpets?" In this case she will probably have made up her mind to try the cleaning process, and arranged with the company to send for them on the morning when cleaning commenced. It is hardly necessary to repeat, that on this occasion every article is to be gone over, the French-polished furniture well rubbed and polished. The same thorough system of cleaning should be done throughout the house; the walls cleaned where painted, and swept down with a soft broom or feather brush where papered; the window and bed curtains, which have been replaced with muslin ones, carefully brushed, or, if they require it, cleaned; lamps not likely to be required, washed out with hot water, dried, and cleaned. The several grates are now to be furnished with their summer ornaments; and we know none prettier than the following, which the housemaid may provide at a small expense to her mistress:--Purchase two yards and a half of crinoline muslin, and tear it into small strips, the selvage way of the material, about an inch wide; strip this thread by thread on each side, leaving the four centre threads; this gives about six-and-thirty pieces, fringed on each side, which are tied together at one end, and fastened to the trap of the register, while the threads, unravelled, are spread gracefully about the grate, the lower part of which is filled with paper shavings. This makes a very elegant and very cheap ornament, which is much stronger, besides, than those usually purchased. [Illustration: CORNICE-BRUSH.] [Illustration: HOUSE-PAIL.] [Illustration: DUSTING-BRUSH.] 2328. As winter approaches, this house-cleaning will have to be repeated, and the warm bed and window curtains replaced. The process of scouring and cleaning is again necessary, and must be gone through, beginning at the top, and going through the house, down to the kitchens. 2329. Independently of these daily and periodical cleanings, other occupations will present themselves from time to time, which the housemaid will have to perform. When spots show on polished furniture, they can generally be restored by soap-and-water and a sponge, the polish being brought out by using a little polish, and then well rubbing it. Again, drawers which draw out stiffly may be made to move more easily if the spot where they press is rubbed over with a little soap. 2330. Chips broken off any of the furniture should be collected and replaced, by means of a little glue applied to it. Liquid glue, which is sold prepared in bottles, is very useful to have in the house, as it requires no melting; and anything broken can be so quickly repaired. 2331. Breaking glass and china is about the most disagreeable thing that can happen in a family, and it is, probably, a greater annoyance to a right-minded servant than to the mistress. A neat-handed housemaid may sometimes repair these breakages, where they are not broken in very conspicuous places, by joining the pieces very neatly together with a cement made as follows:--Dissolve an ounce of gum mastic in a quantity of highly-rectified spirits of wine; then soften an ounce of isinglass in warm water, and, finally, dissolve it in rum or brandy, till it forms a thick jelly. Mix the isinglass and gum mastic together, adding a quarter of an ounce of finely-powdered gum ammoniac; put the whole into an earthen pipkin, and in a warm place, till they are thoroughly incorporated together; pour it into a small phial, and cork it down for use. 2332. In using it, dissolve a small piece of the cement in a silver teaspoon over a lighted candle. The broken pieces of glass or china being warmed, and touched with the now liquid cement, join the parts neatly together, and hold in their places till the cement has set; then wipe away the cement adhering to the edge of the joint, and leave it for twelve hours without touching it: the joint will be as strong as the china itself, and if neatly done, it will show no joining. It is essential that neither of the pieces be wetted either with hot or cold water. USEFUL RECIPES FOR HOUSEMAIDS. To clean Marble. 2333. Mix with 1/4 pint of soap lees, 1/2 gill of turpentine, sufficient pipe-clay and bullock's gall to make the whole into rather a thick paste. Apply it to the marble with a soft brush, and after a day or two, when quite dry, rub it off with a soft rag. Apply this a second or third time till the marble is quite clean. Another method. 2334. Take two parts of soda, one of pumice-stone, and one of finely-powdered chalk. Sift these through a fine sieve, and mix them into a paste with water. Rub this well all over the marble, and the stains will be removed; then wash it with soap-and-water, and a beautiful bright polish will be produced. To clean Floorcloth. 2335. After having washed the floorcloth in the usual manner with a damp flannel, wet it all over with milk and rub it well with a dry cloth, when a most beautiful polish will be brought out. Some persons use for rubbing a well-waxed flannel; but this in general produces an unpleasant slipperiness, which is not the case with the milk. To clean Decanters. 2336. Roll up in small pieces some soft brown or blotting paper; wet them, and soap them well. Put them into the decanters about one quarter full of warm water; shake them well for a few minutes, then rinse with clear cold water; wipe the outsides with a nice dry cloth, put the decanters to drain, and when dry they will be almost as bright as new ones. To brighten Gilt Frames. 2337. Take sufficient flour of sulphur to give a golden tinge to about 1-1/2 pint of water, and in this boil 4 or 5 bruised onions, or garlic, which will answer the same purpose. Strain off the liquid, and with it, when cold, wash, with a soft brush, any gilding which requires restoring, and when dry it will come out as bright as new work. To preserve bright Grates or Fire-irons from Rust. 2338. Make a strong paste of fresh lime and water, and with a fine brush smear it as thickly as possible over all the polished surface requiring preservation. By this simple means, all the grates and fire-irons in an empty house may be kept for months free from harm, without further care or attention. German Furniture-Gloss. 2339. INGREDIENTS.--1/2 lb. yellow wax, 1 oz. black rosin, 2 oz. of oil of turpentine. _Mode_.--Cut the wax into small pieces, and melt it in a pipkin, with the rosin pounded very fine. Stir in gradually, while these two ingredients are quite warm, the oil of turpentine. Keep this composition well covered for use in a tin or earthen pot. A little of this gloss should be spread on a piece of coarse woollen cloth, and the furniture well rubbed with it; afterwards it should be polished with a fine cloth. DUTIES OF THE MAID-OF-ALL-WORK. 2340. The general servant, or maid-of-all-work, is perhaps the only one of her class deserving of commiseration: her life is a solitary one, and in, some places, her work is never done. She is also subject to rougher treatment than either the house or kitchen-maid, especially in her earlier career: she starts in life, probably a girl of thirteen, with some small tradesman's wife as her mistress, just a step above her in the social scale; and although the class contains among them many excellent, kind-hearted women, it also contains some very rough specimens of the feminine gender, and to some of these it occasionally falls to give our maid-of-all-work her first lessons in her multifarious occupations: the mistress's commands are the measure of the maid-of-all-work's duties. By the time she has become a tolerable servant, she is probably engaged in some respectable tradesman's house, where she has to rise with the lark, for she has to do in her own person all the work which in larger establishments is performed by cook, kitchen-maid, and housemaid, and occasionally the part of a footman's duty, which consists in carrying messages. 2341. The general servant's duties commence by opening the shutters (and windows, if the weather permits) of all the lower apartments in the house; she should then brush up her kitchen-range, light the fire, clear away the ashes, clean the hearth, and polish with a leather the bright parts of the range, doing all as rapidly and as vigorously as possible, that no more time be wasted than is necessary. After putting on the kettle, she should then proceed to the dining-room or parlour to get it in order for breakfast. She should first roll up the rug, take up the fender, shake and fold up the table-cloth, then sweep the room, carrying the dirt towards the fireplace; a coarse cloth should then be laid down over the carpet, and she should proceed to clean the grate, having all her utensils close to her. When the grate is finished, the ashes cleared away, the hearth cleaned, and the fender put back in its place, she must dust the furniture, not omitting the legs of the tables and chairs; and if there are any ornaments or things on the sideboard, she must not dust round them, but lift them up on to another place, dust well where they have been standing, and then replace the things. Nothing annoys a particular mistress so much as to find, when she comes down stairs, different articles of furniture looking as if they had never been dusted. If the servant is at all methodical, and gets into a habit of _doing_ a room in a certain way, she will scarcely ever leave her duties neglected. After the rug is put down, the table-cloth arranged, and everything in order, she should lay the cloth for breakfast, and then shut the dining-room door. 2342. The hall must now be swept, the mats shaken, the door-step cleaned, and any brass knockers or handles polished up with the leather. If the family breakfast very early, the tidying of the hall must then be deferred till after that meal. After cleaning the boots that are absolutely required, the servant should now wash her hands and face, put on a clean white apron, and be ready for her mistress when she comes down stairs. In families where there is much work to do before breakfast, the master of the house frequently has two pairs of boots in wear, so that they may be properly cleaned when the servant has more time to do them, in the daytime. This arrangement is, perhaps, scarcely necessary in the summer-time, when there are no grates to clean every morning; but in the dark days of winter it is only kind and thoughtful to lighten a servant-of-all-work's duties as much as possible. [Illustration: BLACKING-BRUSH BOX.] 2343. She will now carry the urn into the dining-room, where her mistress will make the tea or coffee, and sometimes will boil the eggs, to insure them being done to her liking. In the mean time the servant cooks, if required, the bacon, kidneys, fish, &c.;--if cold meat is to be served, she must always send it to table on a clean dish, and nicely garnished with tufts of parsley, if this is obtainable. 2344. After she has had her own breakfast, and whilst the family are finishing theirs, she should go upstairs into the bedrooms, open all the windows, strip the clothes off the beds, and leave them to air whilst she is clearing away the breakfast things. She should then take up the crumbs in a dustpan from under the table, put the chairs in their places, and sweep up the hearth. 2345. The breakfast things washed up, the kitchen should be tidied, so that it may be neat when her mistress comes in to give the orders for the day: after receiving these orders, the servant should go upstairs again, with a jug of boiling water, the slop-pail, and two cloths. After emptying the slops, and scalding the vessels with the boiling water, and wiping them thoroughly dry, she should wipe the top of the wash-table and arrange it all in order. She then proceeds to make the beds, in which occupation she is generally assisted by the mistress, or, if she have any daughters, by one of them. Before commencing to make the bed, the servant should put on a large bed-apron, kept for this purpose only, which should be made very wide, to button round the waist and meet behind, while it should be made as long as the dress. By adopting this plan, the blacks and dirt on servants' dresses (which at all times it is impossible to help) will not rub off on to the bed-clothes, mattresses, and bed furniture. When the beds are made, the rooms should be dusted, the stairs lightly swept down, hall furniture, closets, &c., dusted. The lady of the house, where there is but one servant kept, frequently takes charge of the drawing-room herself, that is to say, dusting it; the servant sweeping, cleaning windows, looking-glasses, grates, and rough work of that sort. If there are many ornaments and knick-knacks about the room, it is certainly better for the mistress to dust these herself, as a maid-of-all-work's hands are not always in a condition to handle delicate ornaments. 2346. Now she has gone the rounds of the house and seen that all is in order, the servant goes to her kitchen to see about the cooking of the dinner, in which very often her mistress will assist her. She should put on a coarse apron with a bib to do her dirty work in, which may be easily replaced by a white one if required. 2347. Half an hour before dinner is ready, she should lay the cloth, that everything may be in readiness when she is dishing up the dinner, and take all into the dining-room that is likely to be required, in the way of knives, forks, spoons, bread, salt, water, &c. &c. By exercising a little forethought, much confusion and trouble may be saved both to mistress and servant, by getting everything ready for the dinner in good time. 2348. After taking in the dinner, when every one is seated, she removes the covers, hands the plates round, and pours out the beer; and should be careful to hand everything on the left side of the person she is waiting on. 2349. We need scarcely say that a maid-of-all-work cannot stay in the dining-room during the whole of dinner-time, as she must dish up her pudding, or whatever is served after the first course. When she sees every one helped, she should leave the room to make her preparations for the next course; and anything that is required, such as bread, &c., people may assist themselves to in the absence of the servant. 2350. When the dinner things are cleared away, the servant should sweep up the crumbs in the dining-room, sweep the hearth, and lightly dust the furniture, then sit down to her own dinner. [Illustration: KNIFE-CLEANING MACHINE] 2351. After this, she washes up and puts away the dinner things, sweeps the kitchen, dusts and tidies it, and puts on the kettle for tea. She should now, before dressing herself for the afternoon, clean her knives, boots, and shoes, and do any other dirty work in the scullery that may be necessary. Knife-cleaning machines are rapidly taking the place, in most households, of the old knife-board. The saving of labour by the knife-cleaner is very great, and its performance of the work is very satisfactory. Small and large machines are manufactured, some cleaning only four knives, whilst others clean as many as twelve at once. Nothing can be more simple than the process of machine knife-cleaning; and although, in a very limited household, the substitution of the machine for the board may not be necessary, yet we should advise all housekeepers, to whom the outlay is not a difficulty, to avail themselves of the services of a machine. We have already spoken of its management in the "Duties of the Footman," No. 2177. 2352. When the servant is dressed, she takes in the tea, and after tea turns down the beds, sees that the water-jugs and bottles are full, closes the windows, and draws down the blinds. If the weather is very warm, these are usually left open until the last thing at night, to cool the rooms. 2353. The routine of a general servant's duties depends upon the kind of situation she occupies; but a systematic maid-of-all-work should so contrive to divide her work, that every day in the week may have its proper share. By this means she is able to keep the house clean with less fatigue to herself than if she left all the cleaning to do at the end of the week. Supposing there are five bedrooms in the house, two sitting-rooms, kitchen, scullery, and the usual domestic offices:--on Monday she should thoroughly clean the drawing-room; on Tuesday, two of the bedrooms; on Wednesday, two more; on Thursday, the other bedroom and stairs; on Friday morning she should sweep the dining-room very thoroughly, clean the hall, and in the afternoon her kitchen tins and bright utensils. By arranging her work in this manner, no undue proportion will fall to Saturday's share, and she will then have this day for cleaning plate, cleaning her kitchen, and arranging everything in nice order. The regular work must, of course, be performed in the usual manner, as we have endeavoured to describe. 2354. Before retiring to bed, she will do well to clean up glasses, plates, &c. which have been used for the evening meal, and prepare for her morning's work by placing her wood near the fire, on the hob, to dry, taking care there is no danger of it igniting, before she leaves the kitchen for the night. Before retiring, she will have to lock and bolt the doors, unless the master undertakes this office himself. 2355. If the washing, or even a portion of it, is done at home, it will be impossible for the maid-of-all-work to do her household duties thoroughly, during the time it is about, unless she have some assistance. Usually, if all the washing is done at home, the mistress hires some one to assist at the wash-tub, and sees to little matters herself, in the way of dusting, clearing away breakfast things, folding, starching, and ironing the fine things. With a little management much can be accomplished, provided the mistress be industrious, energetic, and willing to lend a helping hand. Let washing-week be not the excuse for having everything in a muddle; and although "things" cannot be cleaned so thoroughly, and so much time spent upon them, as ordinarily, yet the house may be kept tidy and clear from litter without a great deal of exertion either on the part of the mistress or servant. We will conclude our remarks with an extract from an admirably-written book, called "Home Truths for Home Peace." The authoress says, with respect to the great wash--"Amongst all the occasions in which it is most difficult and glorious to keep muddle out of a family, 'the great wash' stands pre-eminent; and as very little money is now saved by having _everything_ done at home, many ladies, with the option of taking another servant or putting out the chief part of the washing, have thankfully adopted the latter course." She goes on to say--"When a gentleman who dines at home can't bear washing in the house, but gladly pays for its being done elsewhere, the lady should gratefully submit to his wishes, and put out anything in her whole establishment rather than put out a good and generous husband." 2356. A bustling and active girl will always find time to do a little needlework for herself, if she lives with consistent and reasonable people. In the summer evenings she should manage to sit down for two or three hours, and for a short time in the afternoon in leisure days. A general servant's duties are so multifarious, that unless she be quick and active, she will not be able to accomplish this. To discharge these various duties properly is a difficult task, and sometimes a thankless office; but it must be remembered that a good maid-of-all-work will make a good servant in any capacity, and may be safely taken not only without fear of failure, but with every probability of giving satisfaction to her employer. DUTIES OF THE DAIRY-MAID. 2357. The duties of the dairy-maid differ considerably in different districts. In Scotland, Wales, and some of the northern counties, women milk the cows. On some of the large dairy farms in other parts of England, she takes her share in the milking, but in private families the milking is generally performed by the cowkeeper, and the dairy-maid only receives the milkpails from him morning and night, and empties and cleans them preparatory to the next milking; her duty being to supply the family with milk, cream, and butter, and other luxuries depending on the "milky mothers" of the herd. 2358. _The Dairy._--The object with which gentlemen keep cows is to procure milk unadulterated, and sweet butter, for themselves and families: in order to obtain this, however, great cleanliness is required, and as visitors, as well as the mistress of the house, sometimes visit the dairy, some efforts are usually made to render it ornamental and picturesque. The locality is usually fixed near to the house; it should neither be exposed to the fierce heat of the summer's sun nor to the equally unfavourable frosts of winter--it must be both sheltered and shaded. If it is a building apart from the house and other offices, the walls should be tolerably thick, and if hollow, the temperature will be more equable. The walls inside are usually covered with Dutch glazed tiles; the flooring also of glazed tiles set in asphalte, to resist water; and the ceiling, lath and plaster, or closely-jointed woodwork, painted. Its architecture will be a matter of fancy: it should have a northern aspect, and a thatched roof is considered most suitable, from the shade and shelter it affords; and it should contain at least two apartments, besides a cool place for storing away butter. One of the apartments, in which the milk is placed to deposit cream, or to ripen for churning, is usually surrounded by shelves of marble or slate, on which the milk-dishes rest; but it will be found a better plan to have a large square or round table of stone in the centre, with a water-tight ledge all round it, in which water may remain in hot weather, or, if some attempt at the picturesque is desired, a small fountain might occupy the centre, which would keep the apartment cool and fresh. Round this table the milk-dishes should be ranged; one shelf, or dresser, of slate or marble, being kept for the various occupations of the dairy-maid: it will be found a better plan than putting them on shelves and corners against the wall. There should be a funnel or ventilator in the ceiling, communicating with the open air, made to open and shut as required. Double windows are recommended, but of the lattice kind, so that they may open, and with wire-gauze blinds fitted into the opening, and calico blinds, which may be wetted when additional coolness is required. The other apartment will be used for churning, washing, and scrubbing--in fact, the scullery of the dairy, with a boiler for hot water, and a sink with cold water laid on, which should be plentiful and good. In some dairies a third apartment, or, at least, a cool airy pantry, is required for storing away butter, with shelves of marble or slate, to hold the cream-jars while it is ripening; and where cheeses are made, a fourth becomes necessary. The dairy utensils are not numerous,--_churns_, _milk-pails_ for each cow, _hair-sieves_, _slices of tin_, milk-pans, marble dishes for cream for family use, scales and weights, a portable rack for drying the utensils, _wooden bowls_, butter-moulds and butter-patters, and _wooden tubs_ for washing the utensils, comprising pretty nearly everything. 2359. _Pails_ are made of maple-wood or elm, and hooped, or of tin, more or less ornamented. One is required for each cow. 2360. The _Hair-Sieve_ is made of closely-twisted horse-hair, with a rim, through which the milk is strained to remove any hairs which may have dropped from the cow in milking. 2361. _Milk-Dishes_ are shallow basins of glass, of glazed earthenware, or tin, about 16 inches in diameter at top, and 12 at the bottom, and 5 or 6 inches deep, holding about 8 to 10 quarts each when full. 2362. _Churns_ are of all sorts and sizes, from that which churns 70 or 80 gallons by means of a strap from the engine, to the square box in which a pound of butter is made. The churn used for families is a square box, 18 inches by 12 or 13, and 17 deep, bevelled below to the plane of the _dashers_, with a loose lid or cover. The dasher consists of an axis of wood, to which the four beaters or fanners are attached; these fans are simply four pieces of elm strongly dovetailed together, forming an oblong square, with a space left open, two of the openings being left broader than the others; attached to an axle, they form an axis with four projecting blades; the axle fits into supports at the centre of the box; a handle is fitted to it, and the act of churning is done by turning the handle. 2363. Such is the temple in which the dairy-maid presides: it should be removed both from stable and cowhouse, and larder; no animal smells should come near it, and the drainage should be perfect. 2364. The dairy-maid receives the milk from the cowkeeper, each pail being strained through the hair-sieve into one of the milk-basins. This is left in the basins from twenty-four to thirty-six hours in the summer, according to the weather; after which it is skimmed off by means of the slicer, and poured into glazed earthenware jars to "turn" for churning. Some persons prefer making up a separate churning for the milk of each cow; in which there is some advantage. In this case the basins of each cow, for two days, would either be kept together or labelled. As soon as emptied, the pails should be scalded and every particle of milk washed out, and placed away in a dry place till next required; and all milk spilt on the floor, or on the table or dresser, cleaned up with a cloth and hot water. Where very great attention is paid to the dairy, the milk-coolers are used larger in winter, when it is desirable to retard the cooling down and increase the creamy deposit, and smaller in summer, to hasten it; the temperature required being from 55° to 50°, In summer it is sometimes expedient, in very sultry weather, to keep the dairy fresh and cool by suspending cloths dipped in chloride of lime across the room. 2365. In some dairies it is usual to churn twice, and in others three times a week: the former produces the best butter, the other the greatest quantity. With three cows, the produce should be 27 to 30 quarts a day. The dairy-maid should churn every day when very hot, if they are in full milk, and every second day in more temperate weather; besides supplying the milk and cream required for a large establishment. The churning should always be done in the morning: the dairy-maid will find it advantageous in being at work on churning mornings by five o'clock. The operation occupies from 20 minutes to half an hour in summer, and considerably longer in winter. A steady uniform motion is necessary to produce sweet butter; neither too quick nor too slow. Rapid motion causes the cream to heave and swell, from too much air being forced into it: the result is a tedious churning, and soft, bad-coloured butter. 2366. In spring and summer, when the cow has her natural food, no artificial colour is required; but in winter, under stall-feeding, the colour is white and tallowy, and some persons prefer a higher colour. This is communicated by mixing a little finely-powdered arnotto with the cream before putting it into the churn; a still more, natural and delicate colour is communicated by scraping a red carrot into a clean piece of linen cloth, dipping it into water, and squeezing it into the cream. 2367. As soon as the butter comes, the milk is poured off, and the butter put into a shallow wooden tub or bowl, full of pure spring water, in which it is washed and kneaded, pouring off the water, and renewing it until it comes away perfectly free from milk. Imperfect washing is the frequent cause of bad butter, and in nothing is the skill of the dairy-maid tested more than in this process; moreover, it is one in which cleanliness of habits and person are most necessary. In this operation we want the aid of Phyllis's neat, soft, and perfectly clean hand; for no mechanical operation can so well squeeze out the sour particles of milk or curd. 2368. The operations of churning and butter-making over, the butter-milk is disposed of: usually, in England, it goes to the pigs; but it is a, very wholesome beverage when fresh, and some persons like it; the disposal, therefore, will rest with the mistress: the dairy-maid's duty is to get rid of it. She must then scald with boiling water and scrub out every utensil she has used; brush out the churn, clean out the cream-jars, which will probably require the use of a little common soda to purify; wipe all dry, and place them in a position where the sun can reach them for a short time, to sweeten them. 2369. In Devonshire, celebrated for its dairy system, the milk is always scalded. The milk-pans, which are of tin, and contain from 10 to 12 quarts, after standing 10 or 12 hours, are placed on a hot plate of iron, over a stove, until the cream has formed on the surface, which is indicated by the air-bubbles rising through the milk, and producing blisters on the surface-coating of cream. This indicates its approach to the boiling point: and the vessel is now removed to cool. When sufficiently, that is, quite cool, the cream is skimmed off with the slice: it is now the clouted cream for which Devonshire is so famous. It is now placed in the churn, and churned until the butter comes, which it generally does in a much shorter time than by the other process. The butter so made contains more _caseine_ than butter made in the usual way, but does not keep so long. 2370. It is a question frequently discussed, how far it is economical for families to keep cows and make their own butter. It is calculated that a good cow costs from May 1 to October 1, when well but economically kept, £5. 16s. 6d; and from October 1 to April 30, £10. 2s. 6d. During that time she should produce 227 lbs. of butter, besides the skimmed milk. Of course, if new milk and cream are required, that will diminish the quantity of butter. 2371. Besides churning and keeping her dairy in order, the dairy-maid has charge of the whole produce, handing it over to the cook, butler, or housemaid as required; and she will do well to keep an exact account both of what she receives and how and when she disposes of it. DUTIES OF THE LAUNDRY-MAID. 2372. The laundry-maid is charged with the duty of washing and getting-up the family linen,--a situation of great importance where the washing is all done at home; but in large towns, where there is little convenience for bleaching and drying, it is chiefly done by professional laundresses and companies, who apply mechanical and chemical processes to the purpose. These processes, however, are supposed to injure the fabric of the linen; and in many families the fine linen, cottons, and muslins, are washed and got-up at home, even where the bulk of the washing is given out. In country and suburban houses, where greater conveniences exist, washing at home is more common,--in country places universal. 2373. The laundry establishment consists of a washing-house, an ironing and drying-room, and sometimes a drying-closet heated by furnaces. The washing-house will probably be attached to the kitchen; but it is better that it should be completely detached from it, and of one story, with a funnel or shaft to carry off the steam. It will be of a size proportioned to the extent of the washing to be done. A range of tubs, either round or oblong, opposite to, and sloping towards, the light, narrower at the bottom than the top, for convenience in stooping over, and fixed at a height suited to the convenience of the women using them; each tub having a tap for hot and cold water, and another in the bottom, communicating with the drains, for drawing off foul water. A boiler and furnace, proportioned in size to the wants of the family, should also be fixed. The flooring should be York stone, laid on brick piers, with good drainage, or asphalte, sloping gently towards a gutter connected with the drain. 2374. Adjoining the bleaching-house, a second room, about the same size, is required for ironing, drying, and mangling. The contents of this room should comprise an ironing-board, opposite to the light; a strong white deal table, about twelve or fourteen feet long, and about three and a half feet broad, with drawers for ironing-blankets; a mangle in one corner, and clothes-horses for drying and airing; cupboards for holding the various irons, starch, and other articles used in ironing; a hot-plate built in the chimney, with furnace beneath it for heating the irons; sometimes arranged with a flue for carrying the hot air round the room for drying. Where this is the case, however, there should be a funnel in the ceiling for ventilation and carrying off steam; but a better arrangement is to have a hot-air closet adjoining, heated by hot-air pipes, and lined with iron, with proper arrangements for carrying off steam, and clothes-horses on castors running in grooves, to run into it for drying purposes. This leaves the laundry free from unwholesome vapour. 2375. The laundry-maid should commence her labours on Monday morning by a careful examination of the articles committed to her care, and enter them in the washing-book; separating the white linen and collars, sheets and body-linen, into one heap, fine muslins into another, coloured cotton and linen fabrics into a third, woollens into a fourth, and the coarser kitchen and other greasy cloths into a fifth. Every article should be examined for ink- or grease-spots, or for fruit- or wine-stains. Ink-spots are removed by dipping the part into hot water, and then spreading it smoothly on the hand or on the back of a spoon, pouring a few drops of oxalic acid or salts of sorel over the ink-spot, rubbing and rinsing it in cold water till removed; grease-spots, by rubbing over with yellow soap, and rinsing in hot water; fruit- and wine-spots, by dipping in a solution of sal ammonia or spirits of wine, and rinsing. 2376. Every article having been examined and assorted, the sheets and fine linen should be placed in one of the tubs and just covered with lukewarm water, in which a little soda has been dissolved and mixed, and left there to soak till the morning. The greasy cloths and dirtier things should be laid to soak in another tub, in a liquor composed of 1/2 lb. of unslaked lime to every 6 quarts of water which has been boiled for two hours, then left to settle, and strained off when clear. Each article should be rinsed in this liquor to wet it thoroughly, and left to soak till the morning, just covered by it when the things are pressed together. Coppers and boilers should now be filled, and the fires laid ready to light. 2377. Early on the following morning the fires should be lighted, and as soon as hot water can be procured, washing commenced; the sheets and body-linen being wanted to whiten in the morning, should be taken first; each article being removed in succession from the lye in which it has been soaking, rinsed, rubbed, and wrung, and laid aside until the tub is empty, when the foul water is drawn off. The tub should be again filled with luke-warm water, about 80°, in which the articles should again be plunged, and each gone over carefully with soap, and rubbed. Novices in the art sometimes rub the linen against the skin; more experienced washerwomen rub one linen surface against the other, which saves their hands, and enables them to continue their labour much longer, besides economizing time, two parts being thus cleaned at once. 2378. After this first washing, the linen should be put into a second water as hot as the hand can bear, and again rubbed over in every part, examining every part for spots not yet moved, which require to be again soaped over and rubbed till thoroughly clean; then rinsed and wrung, the larger and stronger articles by two of the women; the smaller and more delicate articles requiring gentler treatment. 2379. In order to remove every particle of soap, and produce a good colour, they should now be placed, and boiled for about an hour and a half in the copper, in which soda, in the proportion of a teaspoonful to every two gallons of water, has been dissolved. Some very careful laundresses put the linen into a canvas bag to protect it from the scum and the sides of the copper. When taken out, it should again be rinsed, first in clean hot water, and then in abundance of cold water slightly tinged with fig-blue, and again wrung dry. It should now be removed from the washing-house and hung up to dry or spread out to bleach, if there are conveniences for it; and the earlier in the day this is done, the clearer and whiter will be the linen. 2380. Coloured muslins, cottons, and linens, require a milder treatment; any application of soda will discharge the colour, and soaking all night, even in pure water, deteriorates the more delicate tints. When ready for washing, if not too dirty, they should be put into cold water and washed very speedily, using the common yellow soap, which should be rinsed off immediately. One article should be washed at a time, and rinsed out immediately before any others are wetted. When washed thoroughly, they should be rinsed in succession in soft water, in which common salt has been dissolved, in the proportion of a handful to three or four gallons, and afterwards wrung gently, as soon as rinsed, with as little twisting as possible, and then hung out to dry. Delicate-coloured articles should not be exposed to the sun, but dried in the shade, using clean lines and wooden pegs. 2381. Woollen articles are liable to shrink, unless the flannel has been well shrunk before making up. This liability is increased where very hot water is used: cold water would thus be the best to wash woollens in; but, as this would not remove the dirt, lukewarm water, about 85°, and yellow soap, are recommended. When thoroughly washed in this, they require a good deal of rinsing in cold water, to remove the soap. 2382. Greasy cloths, which have soaked all night in the liquid described, should be now washed out with soap-and-water as hot as the hands can bear, first in one water, and rinsed out in a second; and afterwards boiled for two hours in water in which a little soda is dissolved. When taken out, they should be rinsed in cold water, and laid out or hung up to dry. 2383. Silk handkerchiefs require to be washed alone. When they contain snuff, they should be soaked by themselves in lukewarm water two or three hours; they should be rinsed out and put to soak with the others in cold water for an hour or two; then washed in lukewarm water, being soaped as they are washed. If this does not remove all stains, they should be washed a second time in similar water, and, when finished, rinsed in soft water in which a handful of common salt has been dissolved. In washing stuff or woollen dresses, the band at the waist and the lining at the bottom should be removed, and wherever it is gathered into folds; and, in furniture, the hems and gatherings. A black silk dress, if very dirty, must be washed; but, if only soiled, soaking for four-and-twenty hours will do; if old and rusty, a pint of common spirits should be mixed with each gallon of water, which is an improvement under any circumstances. Whether soaked or washed, it should be hung up to drain, and dried without wringing. 2384. Satin and silk ribbons, both white and coloured, may be cleaned in the same manner. 2385. Silks, when washed, should be dried in the shade, on a linen-horse, taking care that they are kept smooth and unwrinkled. If black or blue, they will be improved if laid again on the table, when dry, and sponged with gin, or whiskey, or other white spirit. 2386. The operations should be concluded by rinsing the tubs, cleaning the coppers, scrubbing the floors of the washing-house, and restoring everything to order and cleanliness. 2387. Thursday and Friday, in a laundry in full employ, are usually devoted to mangling, starching, and ironing. 2388. Linen, cotton, and other fabrics, after being washed and dried, are made smooth and glossy by mangling and by ironing. The mangling process, which is simply passing them between rollers subjected to a very considerable pressure, produced by weight, is confined to sheets, towels, table-linen, and similar articles, which are without folds or plaits. Ironing is necessary to smooth body-linen, and made-up articles of delicate texture or gathered into folds. The mangle is too well known to need description. 2389. _Ironing_.--The irons consist of the common flat-iron, which is of different sizes, varying from 4 to 10 inches in length, triangular in form, and from 2-1/2 to 4-1/2 inches in width at the broad end; the oval iron, which is used for more delicate articles; and the box-iron, which is hollow, and heated by a red-hot iron inserted into the box. The Italian iron is a hollow tube, smooth on the outside, and raised on a slender pedestal with a footstalk. Into the hollow cylinder a red-hot iron is pushed, which heats it; and the smooth outside of the latter is used, on which articles such as frills, and plaited articles, are drawn. Crimping- and gauffering-machines are used for a kind of plaiting where much regularity is required, the articles being passed through two iron rollers fluted so as to represent the kind of plait or fold required. 2390. Starching is a process by which stiffness is communicated to certain parts of linen, as the collar and front of shirts, by dipping them in a paste made of starch boiled in water, mixed with a little gum Arabic, where extra stiffness is required. TO MAKE STARCH. 2391. INGREDIENTS.--Allow 1/2 pint of cold water and 1 quart of boiling water to every 2 tablespoonfuls of starch. _Mode_.--Put the starch into a tolerably large basin; pour over it the cold water, and stir the mixture well with a wooden spoon until it is perfectly free from lumps, and quite smooth. Then take the basin to the fire, and whilst the water is _actually boiling_ in the kettle or boiler, pour it over the starch, stirring it the whole time. If made properly in this manner, the starch will require no further boiling; but should the water not be boiling when added to the starch, it will not thicken, and must be put into a clean saucepan, and stirred over the fire until it boils. Take it off the fire, strain it into a clean basin, cover it up to prevent a skin forming on the top, and, when sufficiently cool that the hand may be borne in it, starch the things. Many persons, to give a shiny and smooth appearance to the linen when ironed, stir round two or three times in the starch a piece of wax candle, which also prevents the iron from sticking. 2392. When the "things to be starched" are washed, dried, and taken off the lines, they should be dipped into the hot starch made as directed, squeezed out of it, and then just dipped into cold water, and immediately squeezed dry. If fine things be wrung, or roughly used, they are very liable to tear; so too much care cannot be exercised in this respect. If the article is lace, clap it between the hands a few times, which will assist to clear it; then have ready laid out on the table a large clean towel or cloth; shake out the starched things, lay them on the cloth, and roll it up tightly, and let it remain for three or fours, when the things will be ready to iron. 2393. To be able to iron properly requires much practice and experience. Strict cleanliness with all the ironing utensils must be observed, as, if this is not the case, not the most expert ironer will be able to make her things look clear and free from smears, &c. After wiping down her ironing table, the laundry-maid should place a coarse cloth on it, and over that the ironing-blanket, with her stand and iron-rubber; and having ascertained that her irons are quite clean and of the right heat, she proceeds with her work. 2394. It is a good plan to try the heat of the iron on a coarse cloth or apron before ironing anything fine: there is then no danger of scorching. For ironing fine things, such as collars, cuffs, muslins, and laces, there is nothing so clean and nice to use as the box-iron; the bottom being bright, and never placed near the fire, it is always perfectly clean; it should, however, be kept in a dry place, for fear of its rusting. Gauffering-tongs or irons must be placed in a clear fire for a minute, then withdrawn, wiped with a coarse rubber, and the heat of them tried on a piece of paper, as, unless great care is taken, these will very soon scorch. 2395. The skirts of muslin dresses should be ironed on a skirt-board covered with flannel, and the fronts of shirts on a smaller board, also covered with flannel; this board being placed between the back and front. 2396. After things are mangled, they should also be ironed in the folds and gathers; dinner-napkins smoothed over, as also table-cloths, pillow-cases, and sometimes sheets. The bands of flannel petticoats, and shoulder-straps to flannel waistcoats, must also undergo the same process. UPPER AND UNDER NURSEMAIDS. 2397. The nursery is of great importance in every family, and in families of distinction, where there are several young children, it is an establishment kept apart from the rest of the family, under the charge of an upper nurse, assisted by under nursery-maids proportioned to the work to be done. The responsible duties of upper nursemaid commence with the weaning of the child: it must now be separated from the mother or wet-nurse, at least for a time, and the cares of the nursemaid, which have hitherto been only occasionally put in requisition, are now to be entirely devoted to the infant. She washes, dresses, and feeds it; walks out with it, and regulates all its little wants; and, even at this early age, many good qualities are required to do so in a satisfactory manner. Patience and good temper are indispensable qualities; truthfulness, purity of manners, minute cleanliness, and docility and obedience, almost equally so. She ought also to be acquainted with the art of ironing and trimming little caps, and be handy with her needle. 2398. There is a considerable art in carrying an infant comfortably for itself and for the nursemaid. If she carry it always seated upright on her arm, and presses it too closely against her chest, the stomach of the child is apt to get compressed, and the back fatigued. For her own comfort, a good nurse will frequently vary this position, by changing from one arm to the other, and sometimes by laying it across both, raising the head a little. When teaching it to walk, and guiding it by the hand, she should change the hand from time to time, so as to avoid raising one shoulder higher than the other. This is the only way in which a child should be taught to walk; leading-strings and other foolish inventions, which force an infant to make efforts, with its shoulders and head forward, before it knows how to use its limbs, will only render it feeble, and retard its progress. 2399. Most children have some bad habit, of which they must be broken; but this is never accomplished by harshness without developing worse evils: kindness, perseverance, and patience in the nurse, are here of the utmost importance. When finger-sucking is one of these habits, the fingers are sometimes rubbed with bitter aloes, or some equally disagreeable substance. Others have dirty habits, which are only to be changed by patience, perseverance, and, above all, by regularity in the nurse. She should never be permitted to inflict punishment on these occasions, or, indeed, on any occasion. But, if punishment is to be avoided, it is still more necessary that all kinds of indulgences and flattery be equally forbidden. Yielding to all the whims of a child,--picking up its toys when thrown away in mere wantonness, would be intolerable. A child should never be led to think others inferior to it, to beat a dog, or even the stone against which it falls, as some children are taught to do by silly nurses. Neither should the nurse affect or show alarm at any of the little accidents which must inevitably happen: if it falls, treat it as a trifle; otherwise she encourages a spirit of cowardice and timidity. But she will take care that such accidents are not of frequent occurrence, or the result of neglect. 2400. The nurse should keep the child as clean as possible, and particularly she should train it to habits of cleanliness, so that it should feel uncomfortable when otherwise; watching especially that it does not soil itself in eating. At the same time, vanity in its personal appearance is not to be encouraged by over-care in this respect, or by too tight lacing or buttoning of dresses, nor a small foot cultivated by the use of tight shoes. 2401. Nursemaids would do well to repeat to the parents faithfully and truly the defects they observe in the dispositions of very young children. If properly checked in time, evil propensities may be eradicated; but this should not extend to anything but serious defects; otherwise, the intuitive perceptions which all children possess will construe the act into "spying" and "informing," which should never be resorted to in the case of children, nor, indeed, in any case. 2402. Such are the cares which devolve upon the nursemaid, and it is her duty to fulfil them personally. In large establishments she will have assistants proportioned to the number of children of which she has the care. The under nursemaid lights the fires, sweeps, scours, and dusts the rooms, and makes the beds; empties slops, and carries up water; brings up and removes the nursery meals; washes and dresses all the children, except the infant, and assists in mending. Where there is a nursery girl to assist, she does the rougher part of the cleaning; and all take their meals in the nursery together, after the children of the family have done. 2403. In smaller families, where there is only one nursemaid kept, she is assisted by the housemaid, or servant-of-all-work, who will do the rougher part of the work, and carry up the nursery meals. In such circumstances she will be more immediately under the eye of her mistress, who will probably relieve her from some of the cares of the infant. In higher families, the upper nurse is usually permitted to sup or dine occasionally at the housekeeper's table by way of relaxation, when the children are all well, and her subordinates trustworthy. 2404. Where the nurse has the entire charge of the nursery, and the mother is too much occupied to do more than pay a daily visit to it, it is desirable that she be a person of observation, and possess some acquaintance with the diseases incident to childhood, as also with such simple remedies as may be useful before a medical attendant can be procured, or where such attendance is not considered necessary. All these little ailments are preceded by symptoms so minute as to be only perceptible to close observation; such as twitching of the brows, restless sleep, grinding the gums, and, in some inflammatory diseases, even to the child abstaining from crying, from fear of the increased pain produced by the movement. Dentition, or cutting the teeth, is attended with many of these symptoms. Measles, thrush, scarlatina, croup, hooping-cough, and other childish complaints, are all preceded by well-known symptoms, which may be alleviated and rendered less virulent by simple remedies instantaneously applied. 2405. _Dentition_ is usually the first serious trouble, bringing many other disorders in its train. The symptoms are most perceptible to the mother: the child sucks feebly, and with gums hot, inflamed, and swollen. In this case, relief is yielded by rubbing them from time to time with a little of Mrs. Johnson's soothing syrup, a valuable and perfectly safe medicine. Selfish and thoughtless nurses, and mothers too, sometimes give cordials and sleeping-draughts, whose effects are too well known. 2406. _Convulsion Fits_ sometimes follow the feverish restlessness produced by these causes; in which case a hot bath should be administered without delay, and the lower parts of the body rubbed, the bath being as hot as it can be without scalding the tender skin; at the same time, the doctor should be sent for immediately, for no nurse should administer medicine in this case, unless the fits have been repeated and the doctor has left directions with her how to act. 2407. _Croup_ is one of the most alarming diseases of childhood; it is accompanied with a hoarse, croaking, ringing cough, and comes on very suddenly, and most so in strong, robust children. A very hot bath should be instantly administered, followed by an emetic, either in the form of tartar-emetic, croup-powder, or a teaspoonful of ipecacuanha, wrapping the body warmly up in flannel after the bath. The slightest delay in administering the bath, or the emetic, may be fatal; hence, the importance of nurses about very young children being acquainted with the symptoms. 2408. _Hooping-Cough_ is generally preceded by the moaning noise during sleep, which even adults threatened with the disorder cannot avoid: it is followed by violent fits of coughing, which little can be done to relieve. A child attacked by this disorder should be kept as much as possible in the fresh, pure air, but out of draughts, and kept warm, and supplied with plenty of nourishing food. Many fatal diseases flow from this scourge of childhood, and a change to purer air, if possible, should follow convalescence. 2409. _Worms_ are the torment of some children: the symptoms are, an unnatural craving for food, even after a full meal; costiveness, suddenly followed by the reverse; fetid breath, a livid circle under the eyes, enlarged abdomen, and picking the nose; for which the remedies must be prescribed by the doctor. 2410. _Measles_ and _Scarlatina_ much resemble each other in their early stages: headache, restlessness, and fretfulness are the symptoms of both. Shivering fits, succeeded by a hot skin; pains in the back and limbs, accompanied by sickness, and, in severe cases, sore throat; pain about the jaws, difficulty in swallowing, running at the eyes, which become red and inflamed, while the face is hot and flushed, often distinguish scarlatina and scarlet fever, of which it is only a mild form. 2411. While the case is doubtful, a dessert-spoonful of spirit of nitre diluted in water, given at bedtime, will throw the child into a gentle perspiration, and will bring out the rash in either case. In measles, this appears first on the face; in scarlatina, on the chest; and in both cases a doctor should be called in. In scarlatina, tartar-emetic powder or ipecacuanha may be administered in the mean time. 2412. In all cases, cleanliness, fresh air, clean utensils, and frequent washing of the person, both of nurse and children, are even more necessary in the nursery than in either drawing-room or sick-room, inasmuch as the delicate organs of childhood are more susceptible of injury from smells and vapours than adults. 2413. It may not be out of place if we conclude this brief notice of the duties of a nursemaid, by an extract from Florence Nightingale's admirable "Notes on Nursing." Referring to children, she says:-- 2414. "They are much more susceptible than grown people to all noxious influences. They are affected by the same things, but much more quickly and seriously; by want of fresh air, of proper warmth; want of cleanliness in house, clothes, bedding, or body; by improper food, want of punctuality, by dulness, by want of light, by too much or too little covering in bed or when up." And all this in health; and then she quotes a passage from a lecture on sudden deaths in infancy, to show the importance of careful nursing of children:--"In the great majority of instances, when death suddenly befalls the infant or young child, it is an _accident_; it is not a necessary, inevitable result of any disease. That which is known to injure children most seriously is foul air; keeping the rooms where they sleep closely shut up is destruction to them; and, if the child's breathing be disordered by disease, a few hours only of such foul air may endanger its life, even where no inconvenience is felt by grown-up persons in the room." 2415. Persons moving in the beat society will see, after perusing Miss Nightingale's book, that this "foul air," "want of light," "too much or too little clothing," and improper food, is not confined to Crown Street or St. Giles's; that Belgravia and the squares have their north room, where the rays of the sun never reach. "A wooden bedstead, two or three mattresses piled up to above the height of the table, a vallance attached to the frame,--nothing but a miracle could ever thoroughly dry or air such a bed and bedding,"--is the ordinary bed of a private house, than which nothing can be more unwholesome. "Don't treat your children like sick," she sums up; "don't dose them with tea. Let them eat meat and drink milk, or half a glass of light beer. Give them fresh, light, sunny, and open rooms, cool bedrooms, plenty of outdoor exercise, facing even the cold, and wind, and weather, in sufficiently warm clothes, and with sufficient exercise, plenty of amusements and play; more liberty, and less schooling, and cramming, and training; more attention to food and less to physic." DUTIES OF THE SICK-NURSE. 2416. All women are likely, at some period of their lives, to be called on to perform the duties of a sick-nurse, and should prepare themselves as much as possible, by observation and reading, for the occasion when they may be required to perform the office. The main requirements are good temper, compassion for suffering, sympathy with sufferers, which most women worthy of the name possess, neat-handedness, quiet manners, love of order, and cleanliness. With these qualifications there will be very little to be wished for; the desire to relieve suffering will inspire a thousand little attentions, and surmount the disgusts which some of the offices attending the sick-room are apt to create. Where serious illness visits a household, and protracted nursing is likely to become necessary, a professional nurse will probably be engaged, who has been trained to its duties; but in some families, and those not a few let us hope, the ladies of the family would oppose such an arrangement as a failure of duty on their part. There is, besides, even when a professional nurse is ultimately called in, a period of doubt and hesitation, while disease has not yet developed itself, when the patient must be attended to; and, in these cases, some of the female servants of the establishment must give their attendance in the sick-room. There are, also, slight attacks of cold, influenza, and accidents in a thousand forms, to which all are subject, where domestic nursing becomes a necessity; where disease, though unattended with danger, is nevertheless accompanied by the nervous irritation incident to illness, and when all the attention of the domestic nurse becomes necessary. 2417. In the first stage of sickness, while doubt and a little perplexity hang over the household as to the nature of the sickness, there are some things about which no doubt can exist: the patient's room must be kept in a perfectly pure state, and arrangements made for proper attendance; for the first canon of nursing, according to Florence Nightingale, its apostle, is to "keep the air the patient breathes as pure as the external air, without chilling him." This can be done without any preparation which might alarm the patient; with proper windows, open fireplaces, and a supply of fuel, the room may be as fresh as it is outside, and kept at a temperature suitable for the patient's state. 2418. Windows, however, must be opened from above, and not from below, and draughts avoided; cool air admitted beneath the patient's head chills the lower strata and the floor. The careful nurse will keep the door shut when the window is open; she will also take care that the patient is not placed between the door and the open window, nor between the open fireplace and the window. If confined to bed, she will see that the bed is placed in a thoroughly ventilated part of the room, but out of the current of air which is produced by the momentary opening of doors, as well as out of the line of draught between the window and the open chimney, and that the temperature of the room is kept about 64°. Where it is necessary to admit air by the door, the windows should be closed; but there are few circumstances in which good air can be obtained through the chamber-door; through it, on the contrary, the gases generated in the lower parts of the house are likely to be drawn into the invalid chamber. 2419. These precautions taken, and plain nourishing diet, such as the patient desires, furnished, probably little more can be done, unless more serious symptoms present themselves; in which case medical advice will be sought. 2420. Under no circumstances is ventilation of the sick-room so essential as in cases of febrile diseases, usually considered infectious; such as typhus and puerperal fevers, influenza, hooping-cough, small- and chicken-pox, scarlet fever, measles, and erysipelas: all these are considered communicable through the air; but there is little danger of infection being thus communicated, provided the room is kept thoroughly ventilated. On the contrary, if this essential be neglected, the power of infection is greatly increased and concentrated in the confined and impure air; it settles upon the clothes of the attendants and visitors, especially where they are of wool, and is frequently communicated to other families in this manner. 2421. Under all circumstances, therefore, the sick-room should be kept as fresh and sweet as the open air, while the temperature is kept up by artificial heat, taking care that the fire burns clear, and gives out no smoke into the room; that the room is perfectly clean, wiped over with a damp cloth every day, if boarded; and swept, after sprinkling with damp tea-leaves, or other aromatic leaves, if carpeted; that all utensils are emptied and cleaned as soon as used, and not once in four-and-twenty hours, as is sometimes done. "A slop-pail," Miss Nightingale says, "should never enter a sick-room; everything should be carried direct to the water-closet, emptied there, and brought up clean; in the best hospitals the slop-pail is unknown." "I do not approve," says Miss Nightingale, "of making housemaids of nurses,--that would be waste of means; but I have seen surgical sisters, women whose hands were worth to them two or three guineas a week, down on their knees, scouring a room or hut, because they thought it was not fit for their patients: these women had the true nurse spirit." 2422. Bad smells are sometimes met by sprinkling a little liquid chloride of lime on the floor; fumigation by burning pastiles is also a common expedient for the purification of the sick-room. They are useful, but only in the sense hinted at by the medical lecturer, who commenced his lecture thus:--"Fumigations, gentlemen, are of essential importance; they make so abominable a smell, that they compel you to open the windows and admit fresh air." In this sense they are useful, but ineffectual unless the cause be removed, and fresh air admitted. 2423. The sick-room should be quiet; no talking, no gossiping, and, above all, no whispering,--this is absolute cruelty to the patient; he thinks his complaint the subject, and strains his ear painfully to catch the sound. No rustling of dresses, nor creaking shoes either; where the carpets are taken up, the nurse should wear list shoes, or some other noiseless material, and her dress should be of soft material that does not rustle. Miss Nightingale denounces crinoline, and quotes Lord Melbourne on the subject of women in the sick-room, who said, "I would rather have men about me, when ill, than women; it requires very strong health to put up with women." Ungrateful man! but absolute quiet is necessary in the sick-room. 2424. Never let the patient be waked out of his first sleep by noise, never roused by anything like a surprise. Always sit in the apartment, so that the patient has you in view, and that it is not necessary for him to turn in speaking to you. Never keep a patient standing; never speak to one while moving. Never lean on the sick-bed. Above all, be calm and decisive with the patient, and prevent all noises over-head. 2425. A careful nurse, when a patient leaves his bed, will open the sheets wide, and throw the clothes back so as thoroughly to air the bed; She will avoid drying or airing anything damp in the sick-room. 2426. "It is another fallacy," says Florence Nightingale, "to suppose that night air is injurious; a great authority told me that, in London, the air is never so good as after ten o'clock, when smoke has diminished; but then it must be air from without, not within, and not air vitiated by gaseous airs." "A great fallacy prevails also," she says, in another section, "about flowers poisoning the air of the sick-room: no one ever saw them over-crowding the sick-room; but, if they did, they actually absorb carbonic acid and give off oxygen." Cut flowers also decompose water, and produce oxygen gas. Lilies, and some other very odorous plants, may perhaps give out smells unsuited to a close room, while the atmosphere of the sick-room should always be fresh and natural. 2427. "Patients," says Miss Nightingale, "are sometimes starved in the midst of plenty, from want of attention to the ways which alone make it possible for them to take food. A spoonful of beef-tea, or arrowroot and wine, or some other light nourishing diet, should be given every hour, for the patient's stomach will reject large supplies. In very weak patients there is often a nervous difficulty in swallowing, which is much increased if food is not ready and presented at the moment when it is wanted: the nurse should be able to discriminate, and know when this moment is approaching." 2428. Diet suitable for patients will depend, in some degree, on their natural likes and dislikes, which the nurse will do well to acquaint herself with. Beef-tea is useful and relishing, but possesses little nourishment; when evaporated, it presents a teaspoonful of solid meat to a pint of water. Eggs are not equivalent to the same weight of meat. Arrowroot is less nourishing than flour. Butter is the lightest and most digestible kind of fat. Cream, in some diseases, cannot be replaced. But, to sum up with some of Miss Nightingale's useful maxims:--Observation is the nurse's best guide, and the patient's appetite the rule. Half a pint of milk is equal to a quarter of a pound of meat. Beef-tea is the least nourishing food administered to the sick; and tea and coffee, she thinks, are both too much excluded from the sick-room. THE MONTHLY NURSE. 2429. The choice of a monthly nurse is of the utmost importance; and in the case of a young mother with her first child, it would be well for her to seek advice and counsel from her more experienced relatives in this matter. In the first place, the engaging a monthly nurse in good time is of the utmost importance, as, if she be competent and clever, her services will be sought months beforehand; a good nurse having seldom much of her time disengaged. There are some qualifications which it is evident the nurse should possess: she should be scrupulously clean and tidy in her person; honest, sober, and noiseless in her movements; should possess a natural love for children, and have a strong nerve in case of emergencies. Snuff-taking and spirit-drinking must not be included in her habits; but these are happily much less frequent than they were in former days. 2430. Receiving, as she often will, instructions from the doctor, she should bear these in mind, and carefully carry them out. In those instances where she does not feel herself sufficiently informed, she should ask advice from the medical man, and not take upon herself to administer medicines, &c., without his knowledge. 2431. A monthly nurse should be between 30 and 50 years of age, sufficiently old to have had a little experience, and yet not too old or infirm to be able to perform various duties requiring strength and bodily vigour. She should be able to wake the moment she is called,--at any hour of the night, that the mother or child may have their wants immediately attended to. Good temper, united to a kind and gentle disposition, is indispensable; and, although the nurse will frequently have much to endure from the whims and caprices of the invalid, she should make allowances for these, and command her temper, at the same time exerting her authority when it is necessary. 2432. What the nurse has to do in the way of cleaning and dusting her lady's room, depends entirely on the establishment that is kept. Where there are plenty of servants, the nurse, of course, has nothing whatever to do but attend on her patient, and ring the bell for anything she may require. Where the number of domestics is limited, she should not mind keeping her room in order; that is to say, sweeping and dusting it every morning. If fires be necessary, the housemaid should always clean the grate, and do all that is wanted in that way, as this, being rather dirty work, would soil the nurse's dress, and unfit her to approach the bed, or take the infant without soiling its clothes. In small establishments, too, the nurse should herself fetch things she may require, and not ring every time she wants anything; and she must, of course, not leave her invalid unless she sees everything is comfortable; and then only for a few minutes. When down stairs, and in company with the other servants, the nurse should not repeat what she may have heard in her lady's room, as much mischief may be done by a gossiping nurse. As in most houses the monthly nurse is usually sent for a few days before her services may be required, she should see that all is in readiness; that there be no bustle and hurry at the time the confinement takes place. She should keep two pairs of sheets thoroughly aired, as well as night-dresses, flannels, &c. &c. All the things which will be required to dress the baby the first time should be laid in the basket in readiness, in the order in which they are to be put on; as well as scissors, thread, a few pieces of soft linen rag, and two or three flannel squares. If a berceaunette is to be used immediately, the nurse should ascertain that the mattresses, pillow, &c. are all well aired; and if not already done before she arrives, she should assist in covering and trimming it, ready for the little occupant. A monthly nurse should be handy at her needle, as, if she is in the house some time before the baby is born, she will require some work of this sort; to occupy her time. She should also understand the making-up of little caps, although we can scarcely say this is one of the nurse's duties. As most children wear no caps, except out of doors, her powers in this way will not be much taxed. 2433. A nurse should endeavour to make her room as cheerful as possible, and always keep it clean and tidy. She should empty the chamber utensils as soon as used, and on no account put things under the bed. Soiled baby's napkins should be rolled up and put into a pan, when they should be washed out every morning, and hung out to dry: they are then in a fit state to send to the laundress; and should, on no account, be left dirty, but done every morning in this way. The bedroom should be kept rather dark, particularly for the first week or ten days; of a regular temperature, and as free as possible from draughts, at the same time well ventilated and free from unpleasant smells. 2434. The infant during the month must not be exposed to strong light, or much air; and in carrying it about the passages, stairs, &c., the nurse should always have its head-flannel on, to protect the eyes and ears from the currents of air. For the management of children, we must refer our readers to the following chapters; and we need only say, in conclusion, that a good nurse should understand the symptoms of various ills incident to this period, as, in all cases, prevention is better than cure. As young mothers with their first baby are very often much troubled at first with their breasts, the nurse should understand the art of emptying them by suction, or some other contrivance. If the breasts are kept well drawn, there will be but little danger of inflammation; and as the infant at first cannot take all that is necessary, something must be done to keep the inflammation down. This is one of the greatest difficulties a nurse has to contend with, and we can only advise her to be very persevering, to rub the breasts well, and to let the infant suck as soon and as often as possible, until they get in proper order. THE WET-NURSE. 2435. We are aware that, according to the opinion of some ladies, there is no domestic theme, during a certain period of their married lives, more fraught with vexation and disquietude than that ever-fruitful source of annoyance, "the Nurse;" but, as we believe, there are thousands of excellent wives and mothers who pass through life without even a temporary embroglio in the kitchen, or suffering a state of moral hectic the whole time of a nurse's empire in the nursery or bedroom. Our own experience goes to prove, that although many unqualified persons palm themselves off on ladies as fully competent for the duties they so rashly and dishonestly undertake to perform, and thus expose themselves to ill-will and merited censure, there are still very many fully equal to the legitimate exercise of what they undertake; and if they do not in every case give entire satisfaction, some of the fault,--and sometimes a great deal of it,--may be honestly placed to the account of the ladies themselves, who, in many instances, are so impressed with the propriety of their own method of performing everything, as to insist upon the adoption of _their_ system in preference to that of the nurse, whose plan is probably based on a comprehensive forethought, and rendered perfect in all its details by an ample experience. 2436. In all our remarks on this subject, we should remember with gentleness the order of society from which our nurses are drawn; and that those who make their duty a study, and are termed professional nurses, have much to endure from the caprice and egotism of their employers; while others are driven to the occupation from the laudable motive of feeding their own children, and who, in fulfilling that object, are too often both selfish and sensual, performing, without further interest than is consistent with their own advantage, the routine of customary duties. 2437. Properly speaking, there are two nurses,--the nurse for the mother and the nurse for the child, or, the monthly and the wet nurse. Of the former we have already spoken, and will now proceed to describe the duties of the latter, and add some suggestions as to her age, physical health, and moral conduct, subjects of the utmost importance as far as the charge intrusted to her is concerned, and therefore demanding some special remarks. 2438. When from illness, suppression of the milk, accident, or some natural process, the mother is deprived of the pleasure of rearing her infant, it becomes necessary at once to look around for a fitting substitute, so that the child may not suffer, by any needless delay, a physical loss by the deprivation of its natural food. The first consideration should be as regards age, state of health, and temper. 2439. The age, if possible, should not be less than twenty nor exceed thirty years, with the health sound in every respect, and the body free from all eruptive disease or local blemish. The best evidence of a sound state of health will be found in the woman's clear open countenance, the ruddy tone of the skin, the full, round, and elastic state of the breasts, and especially in the erectile, firm condition of the nipple, which, in all unhealthy states of the body, is pendulous, flabby, and relaxed; in which case, the milk is sure to be imperfect in its organization, and, consequently, deficient in its nutrient qualities. Appetite is another indication of health in the suckling nurse or mother; for it is impossible a woman can feed her child without having a corresponding appetite; and though inordinate craving for food is neither desirable nor necessary, a natural vigour should be experienced at meal-times, and the food taken should be anticipated and enjoyed. 2440. Besides her health, the moral state of the nurse is to be taken into account, or that mental discipline or principle of conduct which would deter the nurse from at any time gratifying her own pleasures and appetites at the cost or suffering of her infant charge. 2441. The conscientiousness and good faith that would prevent a nurse so acting are, unfortunately, very rare; and many nurses, rather than forego the enjoyment of a favourite dish, though morally certain of the effect it will have on the child, will, on the first opportunity, feed with avidity on fried meats, cabbage, cucumbers, pickles, or other crude and injurious aliments, in defiance of all orders given, or confidence reposed in their word, good sense, and humanity. And when the infant is afterwards racked with pain, and a night of disquiet alarms the mother, the doctor is sent for, and the nurse, covering her dereliction by a falsehood, the consequence of her gluttony is treated as a disease, and the poor infant is dosed for some days with medicines, that can do it but little if any good, and, in all probability, materially retard its physical development. The selfish nurse, in her ignorance, believes, too, that as long as she experiences no admonitory symptoms herself, the child cannot suffer; and satisfied that, whatever is the cause of its screams and plunges, neither she, nor what she had eaten, had anything to do with it, with this flattering assurance at her heart, she watches her opportunity, and has another luxurious feast off the proscribed dainties, till the increasing disturbance in the child's health, or treachery from the kitchen, opens the eyes of mother and doctor to the nurse's unprincipled conduct. In all such cases the infant should be spared the infliction of medicine, and, as a wholesome corrective to herself, and relief to her charge, a good sound dose administered to the nurse. 2442. Respecting the diet of the wet-nurse, the first point of importance is to fix early and definite hours for every meal; and the mother should see that no cause is ever allowed to interfere with their punctuality. The food itself should be light, easy of digestion, and simple. Boiled or roast meat, with bread and potatoes, with occasionally a piece of sago, rice, or tapioca pudding, should constitute the dinner, the only meal that requires special comment; broths, green vegetables, and all acid or salt foods, must be avoided. Fresh fish, once or twice a week, may be taken; but it is hardly sufficiently nutritious to be often used as a meal. If the dinner is taken early,--at one o'clock,--there will be no occasion for luncheon, which too often, to the injury of the child, is made the cover for a first dinner. Half a pint of stout, with a Reading biscuit, at eleven o'clock, will be abundantly sufficient between breakfast at eight and a good dinner, with a pint of porter at one o'clock. About eight o'clock in the evening, half a pint of stout, with another biscuit, may be taken; and for supper, at ten or half-past, a pint of porter, with a slice of toast or a small amount of bread and cheese, may conclude the feeding for the day. 2443. Animal food once in twenty-four hours is quite sufficient. All spirits, unless in extreme cases, should be avoided; and wine is still more seldom needed. With a due quantity of plain digestible food, and the proportion of stout and porter ordered, with early hours and regularity, the nurse will not only be strong and healthy herself, but fully capable of rearing a child in health and strength. There are two points all mothers, who are obliged to employ wet-nurses, should remember, and be on their guard against. The first is, never to allow a nurse to give medicine to the infant on her own authority: many have such an infatuated idea of the _healing excellence_ of castor-oil, that they would administer a dose of this disgusting grease twice a week, and think they had done a meritorious service to the child. The next point is, to watch carefully, lest, to insure a night's sleep for herself, she does not dose the infant with Godfrey's cordial, syrup of poppies, or some narcotic potion, to insure tranquillity to the one and give the opportunity of sleep to the other. The fact that scores of nurses keep secret bottles of these deadly syrups, for the purpose of stilling their charges, is notorious; and that many use them to a fearful extent, is sufficiently patent to all. 2444. It therefore behoves the mother, while obliged to trust to a nurse, to use her best discretion to guard her child from the unprincipled treatment of the person she must, to a certain extent, depend upon and trust; and to remember, in all cases, rather than resort to castor-oil or sedatives, to consult a medical man for her infant in preference to following the counsel of her nurse. THE REARING, MANAGEMENT, AND DISEASES OF INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. CHAPTER XLII. Physiology of Life, as illustrated by Respiration, Circulation, and Digestion. 2445. The infantine management of children, like the mother's love for her offspring, seems to be born with the child, and to be a direct intelligence of Nature. It may thus, at first sight, appear as inconsistent and presumptuous to tell a woman how to rear her infant as to instruct her in the manner of loving it. Yet, though Nature is unquestionably the best nurse, Art makes so admirable a foster-mother, that no sensible woman, in her novitiate of parent, would refuse the admonitions of art, or the teachings of experience, to consummate her duties of nurse. It is true that, in a civilized state of society, few young wives reach the epoch that makes them mothers without some insight, traditional or practical, into the management of infants: consequently, the cases wherein a woman is left to her own unaided intelligence, or what, in such a case, may be called instinct, and obliged to trust to the promptings of nature alone for the well-being of her child, are very rare indeed. Again, every woman is not gifted with the same physical ability for the harassing duties of a mother; and though Nature, as a general rule, has endowed all female creation with the attributes necessary to that most beautiful and, at the same time, holiest function,--the healthy rearing of their offspring,--the cases are sufficiently numerous to establish the exception, where the mother is either physically or socially incapacitated from undertaking these most pleasing duties herself, and where, consequently, she is compelled to trust to adventitious aid for those natural benefits which are at once the mother's pride and delight to render to her child. 2446. In these cases, when obliged to call in the services of hired assistance, she must trust the dearest obligation of her life to one who, from her social sphere, has probably notions of rearing children diametrically opposed to the preconceived ideas of the mother, and at enmity with all her sentiments of right and prejudices of position. 2447. It has justly been said--we think by Hood--that the children of the poor are not brought up, but _dragged up_. However facetious this remark may seem, there is much truth in it; and that children, reared in the reeking dens of squalor and poverty, live at all, is an apparent anomaly in the course of things, that, at first sight, would seem to set the laws of sanitary provision at defiance, and make it appear a perfect waste of time to insist on pure air and exercise as indispensable necessaries of life, and especially so as regards infantine existence. 2448. We see elaborate care bestowed on a family of children, everything studied that can tend to their personal comfort,--pure air, pure water, regular ablution, a dietary prescribed by art, and every precaution adopted that medical judgment and maternal love can dictate, for the well-being of the parents' hope; and find, in despite of all this care and vigilance, disease and death invading the guarded treasure. We turn to the foetor and darkness that, in some obscure court, attend the robust brood who, coated in dirt, and with mud and refuse for playthings, live and thrive, and grow into manhood, and, in contrast to the pale face and flabby flesh of the aristocratic child, exhibit strength, vigour, and well-developed frames, and our belief in the potency of the life-giving elements of air, light, and cleanliness receives a shock that, at first sight, would appear fatal to the implied benefits of these, in reality, all-sufficient attributes of health and life. 2449. But as we must enter more largely on this subject hereafter, we shall leave its consideration for the present, and return to what we were about to say respecting trusting to others' aid in the rearing of children. Here it is that the young and probably inexperienced mother may find our remarks not only an assistance but a comfort to her, in as far as, knowing the simplest and best system to adopt, she may be able to instruct another, and see that her directions are fully carried out. 2450. The human body, materially considered, is a beautiful piece of mechanism, consisting of many parts, each one being the centre of a system, and performing its own vital function irrespectively of the others, and yet dependent for its vitality upon the harmony and health of the whole. It is, in fact, to a certain extent, like a watch, which, when once wound up and set in motion, will continue its function of recording true time only so long as every wheel, spring, and lever performs its allotted duty, and at its allotted time; or till the limit that man's ingenuity has placed to its existence as a moving automaton has been reached, or, in other words, till it has run down. 2451. What the key is to the mechanical watch, air is to the physical man. Once admit air into the mouth and nostrils, and the lungs expand, the heart beats, the blood rushes to the remotest part of the body, the mouth secretes saliva, to soften and macerate the food; the liver forms its bile, to separate the nutriment from the digested aliment; the kidneys perform their office; the eye elaborates its tears, to facilitate motion and impart that glistening to the orb on which depends so much of its beauty; and a dewy moisture exudes from the skin, protecting the body from the extremes of heat and cold, and sharpening the perception of touch and feeling. At the same instant, and in every part, the arteries, like innumerable bees, are everywhere laying down layers of muscle, bones, teeth, and, in fact, like the coral zoophyte, building up a continent of life and matter; while the veins, equally busy, are carrying away the _débris_ and refuse collected from where the zoophyte arteries are building,--this refuse, in its turn, being conveyed to the liver, there to be converted into bile. 2452. All these--and they are but a few of the vital actions constantly taking place--are the instant result of one gasp of life-giving air. No subject can be fraught with greater interest than watching the first spark of life, as it courses with electric speed "through all the gates and alleys" of the soft, insensate body of the infant. The effect of air on the new-born child is as remarkable in its results as it is wonderful in its consequence; but to understand this more intelligibly, it must first be remembered that life consists of the performance of _three_ vital functions--RESPIRATION, CIRCULATION, and DIGESTION. The lungs digest the air, taking from it its most nutritious element, the _oxygen_, to give to the impoverished blood that circulates through them. The stomach digests the food, and separates the nutriment--_chyle_--from the aliment, which it gives to the blood for the development of the frame; and the blood, which is understood by the term circulation, digests in its passage through the lungs the nutriment--_chyle_--to give it quantity and quality, and the _oxygen_ from the air to give it vitality. Hence it will be seen, that, speaking generally, the three vital functions resolve themselves into one,--DIGESTION; and that the lungs are the primary and the most important of the vital organs; and respiration, the first in fact, as we all know it is the last in deed, of all the functions performed by the living body. THE LUNGS.--RESPIRATION. 2453. The first effect of air on the infant is a slight tremor about the lips and angles of the mouth, increasing to twitchings, and finally to a convulsive contraction of the lips and cheeks, the consequence of sudden cold to the nerves of the face. This spasmodic action produces a gasp, causing the air to rush through the mouth and nostrils, and enter the windpipe and upper portion of the flat and contracted lungs, which, like a sponge partly immersed in water, immediately expand. This is succeeded by a few faint sobs or pants, by which larger volumes of air are drawn into the chest, till, after a few seconds, and when a greater bulk of the lungs has become inflated, the breast-bone and ribs rise, the chest expands, and, with a sudden start, the infant gives utterance to a succession of loud, sharp cries, which have the effect of filling every cell of the entire organ with air and life. To the anxious mother, the first voice of her child is, doubtless, the sweetest music she ever heard; and the more loudly it peals, the greater should be her joy, as it is an indication of health and strength, and not only shows the perfect expansion of the lungs, but that the process of life has set in with vigour. Having welcomed in its own existence, like the morning bird, with a shrill note of gladness, the infant ceases its cry, and, after a few short sobs, usually subsides into sleep or quietude. 2454. At the same instant that the air rushes into the lungs, the valve, or door between the two sides of the heart-and through which the blood had previously passed-is closed and hermetically sealed, and the blood taking a new course, bounds into the lungs, now expanded with air, and which we have likened to a wetted sponge, to which they bear a not unapt affinity, air being substituted for water. It here receives the _oxygen_ from the atmosphere, and the _chyle_, or white blood, from the digested food, and becomes, in an instant, arterial blood, a vital principle, from which every solid and fluid of the body is constructed. Besides the lungs, Nature has provided another respiratory organ, a sort of supplemental lung, that, as well as being a covering to the body, _in_spires air and _ex_pires moisture;--this is the cuticle, or skin; and so intimate is the connection between the skin and lungs, that whatever injures the first, is certain to affect the latter. 2455. _Hence the difficulty of breathing experienced after scalds or burns on the cuticle, the cough that follows the absorption of cold or damp by the skin, the oppressed and laborious breathing experienced by children in all eruptive diseases, while the rash is coming to the surface, and the hot, dry skin that always attends congestion of the lungs, and fever._ 2456. The great practical advantage derivable from this fact is, the knowledge that whatever relieves the one benefits the other. Hence, too, the great utility of hot baths in all affections of the lungs or diseases of the skin; and the reason why exposure to cold or wet is, in nearly all cases, followed by tightness of the chest, sore throat, difficulty of breathing, and cough. These symptoms are the consequence of a larger quantity of blood than is natural remaining in the lungs, and the cough is a mere effort of Nature to throw off the obstruction caused by the presence of too much blood in the organ of respiration. The hot bath, by causing a larger amount of blood to rush suddenly to the skin, has the effect of relieving the lungs of their excess of blood, and by equalizing the circulation, and promoting perspiration from the cuticle, affords immediate and direct benefit, both to the lungs and the system at large. THE STOMACH--DIGESTION. 2457. The organs that either directly or indirectly contribute to the process of digestion are, the mouth, teeth, tongue, and gullet, the stomach, small intestines, the pancreas, the salivary glands, and the liver. Next to respiration, digestion is the chief function in the economy of life, as, without the nutritious fluid digested from the aliment, there would be nothing to supply the immense and constantly recurring waste of the system, caused by the activity with which the arteries at all periods, but especially during infancy and youth, are building up the frame and developing the body. In infancy (the period of which our present subject treats), the series of parts engaged in the process of digestion may be reduced simply to the stomach and liver, or rather its secretion,--the bile. The stomach is a thick muscular bag, connected above with the gullet, and, at its lower extremity, with the commencement of the small intestines. The duty or function of the stomach is to secrete from the arteries spread over its inner surface, a sharp acid liquid called the _gastric_ juice; this, with a due mixture of saliva, softens, dissolves, and gradually digests the food or contents of the stomach, reducing the whole into a soft pulpy mass, which then passes into the first part of the small intestines, where it comes in contact with the bile from the gall-bladder, which immediately separates the digested food into two parts, one is a white creamy fluid called chyle, and the absolute concentration of all nourishment, which is taken up by proper vessels, and, as we have before said, carried directly to the heart, to be made blood of, and vitalized in the lungs, and thus provide for the wear and tear of the system. It must be here observed that the stomach can only digest solids, for fluids, being incapable of that process, can only be _absorbed_; and without the result of digestion, animal, at least human life, could not exist. Now, as Nature has ordained that infantine life shall be supported on liquid aliment, and as, without a digestion the body would perish, some provision was necessary to meet this difficulty, and that provision was found in the nature of the liquid itself, or in other words, THE MILK. The process of making cheese, or fresh curds and whey, is familiar to most persons; but as it is necessary to the elucidation of our subject, we will briefly repeat it. The internal membrane, or the lining coat of a calf's stomach, having been removed from the organ, is hung up, like a bladder, to dry; when required, a piece is cut off, put in a jug, a little warm water poured upon it, and after a few hours it is fit for use; the liquid so made being called _rennet_. A little of this rennet, poured into a basin of warm milk, at once coagulates the greater part, and separates from it a quantity of thin liquor, called _whey_. This is precisely the action that takes place in the infant's stomach after every supply from the breast. The cause is the same in both cases, the acid of the gastric juice in the infant's stomach immediately converting the milk into a soft cheese. It is gastric juice, adhering to the calf's stomach, and drawn out by the water, forming rennet, that makes the curds in the basin. The cheesy substance being a solid, at once undergoes the process of digestion, is separated into _chyle_ by the bile, and, in a few hours, finds its way to the infant's heart, to become blood, and commence the architecture of its little frame. This is the simple process of a baby's digestion:-milk converted into cheese, cheese into _chyle_, chyle into blood, and blood into flesh, bone, and tegument-how simple is the cause, but how sublime and wonderful are the effects! 2458. We have described the most important of the three functions that take place in the infant's body-respiration and digestion; the third, namely, circulation, we hardly think it necessary to enter on, not being called for by the requirements of the nurse and mother; so we shall omit its notice, and proceed from theoretical to more practical considerations. Children of weakly constitutions are just as likely to be born of robust parents, and those who earn their bread by toil, as the offspring of luxury and affluence; and, indeed, it is against the ordinary providence of Nature to suppose the children of the hardworking and necessitous to be hardier and more vigorous than those of parents blessed with ease and competence. 2459. All children come into the world in the same imploring helplessness, with the same general organization and wants, and demanding either from the newly-awakened mother's love, or from the memory of motherly feeling in the nurse, or the common appeals of humanity in those who undertake the earliest duties of an infant, the same assistance and protection, and the same fostering care. THE INFANT. 2460. We have already described the phenomena produced on the new-born child by the contact of air, which, after a succession of muscular twitchings, becomes endowed with voice, and heralds its advent by a loud but brief succession of cries. But though this is the general rule, it sometimes happens (from causes it is unnecessary here to explain) that the infant does not cry, or give utterance to any audible sounds, or if it does, they are so faint as scarcely to be distinguished as human accents, plainly indicating that life, as yet, to the new visitor, is neither a boon nor a blessing; the infant being, in fact, in a state of suspended or imperfect vitality,--a state of _quasi_ existence, closely approximating the condition of a _still-birth_. 2461. As soon as this state of things is discovered, the child should be turned on its right side, and the whole length of the spine, from the head downwards, rubbed with all the fingers of the right hand, sharply and quickly, without intermission, till the quick action has not only evoked heat, but electricity in the part, and till the loud and sharp cries of the child have thoroughly expanded the lungs, and satisfactorily established its life. The operation will seldom require above a minute to effect, and less frequently demands a repetition. If there is brandy at hand, the fingers before rubbing may be dipped into that, or any other spirit. 2462. There-is another condition of what we may call "mute births," where the child only makes short ineffectual gasps, and those at intervals of a minute or two apart, when the lips, eyelids, and fingers become of a deep purple or slate colour, sometimes half the body remaining white, while the other half, which was at first swarthy, deepens to a livid hue. This condition of the infant is owing to the valve between the two sides of the heart remaining open, and allowing the unvitalized venous blood to enter the arteries and get into the circulation. 2463. The object in this case, as in the previous one, is to dilate the lungs as quickly as possible, so that, by the sudden effect of a vigorous inspiration, the valve may be firmly closed, and the impure blood, losing this means of egress, be sent directly to the lungs. The same treatment is therefore necessary as in the previous case, with the addition, if the friction along the spine has failed, of a warm bath at a temperature of about 80°, in which the child is to be plunged up to the neck, first cleansing the mouth and nostrils of the mucus that might interfere with the free passage of air. 2464. While in the bath, the friction along the spine is to be continued, and if the lungs still remain unexpended, while one person retains the child in an inclined position in the water, another should insert the pipe of a small pair of bellows into one nostril, and while the month is closed and the other nostril compressed on the pipe with the hand of the assistant, the lungs are to be slowly inflated by steady puffs of air from the bellows, the hand being removed from the mouth and nose after each inflation, and placed on the pit of the stomach, and by a steady pressure expelling it out again by the mouth. This process is to be continued, steadily inflating and expelling the air from the lungs, till, with a sort of tremulous leap, Nature takes up the process, and the infant begins to gasp, and finally to cry, at first low and faint, but with every gulp of air increasing in length and strength of volume, when it is to be removed from the water, and instantly wrapped (all but the face and mouth) in a flannel. Sometimes, however, all these means will fail in effecting an utterance from the child, which will lie, with livid lips and a flaccid body, every few minutes opening its mouth with a short gasping pant, and then subsiding into a state of pulseless inaction, lingering probably some hours, till the spasmodic pantings growing further apart, it ceases to exist. 2465. The time that this state of negative vitality will linger in the frame of an infant is remarkable; and even when all the previous operations, though long-continued, have proved ineffectual, the child will often rally from the simplest of means--the application of dry heat. When removed from the bath, place three or four hot bricks or tiles on the hearth, and lay the child, loosely folded in a flannel, on its back along them, taking care that there is but one fold of flannel between the spine and heated bricks or tiles. When neither of these articles can be procured, put a few clear pieces of red cinder in a warming-pan, and extend the child in the same manner along the closed lid. As the heat gradually diffuses itself over the spinal marrow, the child that was dying, or seemingly dead, will frequently give a sudden and energetic cry, succeeded in another minute by a long and vigorous peal, making up, in volume and force, for the previous delay, and instantly confirming its existence by every effort in its nature. 2466. With these two exceptions,--restored by the means we have pointed out to the functions of life,--we will proceed to the consideration of the child HEALTHILY BORN. Here the first thing that meets us on the threshold of inquiry, and what is often between mother and nurse not only a vexed question, but one of vexatious import, is the _crying_ of the child; the mother, in her natural anxiety, maintaining that her infant _must be ill_ to cause it to cry so much or so often, and the nurse insisting that _all_ children cry, and that nothing is the matter with it, and that crying does good, and is, indeed, an especial benefit to infancy. The anxious and unfamiliar mother, though not convinced by these abstract sayings of the truth or wisdom of the explanation, takes both for granted; and, giving the nurse credit for more knowledge and experience on this head than she can have, contentedly resigns herself to the infliction, as a thing necessary to be endured for the good of the baby, but thinking it, at the same time, an extraordinary instance of the imperfectibility of Nature as regards the human infant; for her mind wanders to what she has observed in her childhood with puppies and kittens, who, except when rudely torn from their nurse, seldom give utterance to any complaining. 2467. We, undoubtedly, believe that crying, to a certain extent, is not only conducive to health, but positively necessary to the full development and physical economy of the infant's being. But though holding this opinion, we are far from believing that a child does not very often cry from pain, thirst, want of food, and attention to its personal comfort; but there is as much difference in the tone and expression of a child's cry as in the notes of an adult's voice; and the mother's ear will not be long in discriminating between the sharp peevish whine of irritation and fever, and the louder intermitting cry that characterizes the want of warmth and sleep. All these shades of expression in the child's inarticulate voice every nurse _should_ understand, and every mother will soon teach herself to interpret them with an accuracy equal to language. 2468. There is no part of a woman's duty to her child that a young mother should so soon make it her business to study, as the voice of her infant, and the language conveyed in its cry. The study is neither hard nor difficult; a close attention to its tone, and the expression of the baby's features, are the two most important points demanding attention. The key to both the mother will find in her own heart, and the knowledge of her success in the comfort and smile of her infant. We have two reasons--both strong ones--for urging on mothers the imperative necessity of early making themselves acquainted with the nature and wants of their child: the first, that when left to the entire, responsibility of the baby, after the departure of the nurse, she may be able to undertake her new duties with more confidence than if left to her own resources and mother's instinct, without a clue to guide her through the mysteries of those calls that vibrate through every nerve of her nature; and, secondly, that she may be able to guard her child from the nefarious practices of unprincipled nurses, who, while calming the mother's mind with false statements as to the character of the baby's cries, rather than lose their rest, or devote that time which would remove the cause of suffering, administer, behind the curtains, those deadly narcotics which, while stupefying Nature into sleep, insure for herself a night of many unbroken hours. Such nurses as have not the hardihood to dose their infant charges, are often full of other schemes to still that constant and reproachful cry. The most frequent means employed for this purpose is giving it something to suck,--something easily hid from the mother,--or, when that is impossible, under the plea of keeping it warm, the nurse covers it in her lap with a shawl, and, under this blind, surreptitiously inserts a finger between the parched lips, which possibly moan for drink; and, under this inhuman cheat and delusion, the infant is pacified, till Nature, balked of its desires, drops into a troubled sleep. These are two of our reasons for impressing upon mothers the early, the immediate necessity of putting themselves sympathetically in communication with their child, by at once learning its hidden language as a delightful task. 2469. We must strenuously warn all mothers on no account to allow the nurse to sleep with the baby, never herself to lay down with it by her side for a night's rest, never to let it sleep in the parents' bed, and on no account keep it, longer than absolutely necessary, confined in on atmosphere loaded with the breath of many adults. 2470. The amount of _oxygen_ required by an infant is so large, and the quantity consumed by mid-life and age, and the proportion of carbonic acid thrown off from both, so considerable, that an infant breathing the same air cannot possibly carry on its healthy existence while deriving its vitality from so corrupted a medium. This objection, always in force, is still more objectionable at night-time, when doors and windows are closed, and amounts to a condition of poison, when placed between two adults in sleep, and shut in by bed-curtains; and when, in addition to the impurities expired from the lungs, we remember, in quiescence and sleep, how large a portion of mephitic gas is given off from the skin. 2471. Mothers, in the fullness of their affection, believe there is no harbour, sleeping or awake, where their infants can be so secure from all possible or probable danger as in their own arms; yet we should astound our readers if we told them the statistical number of infants who, in despite of their motherly solicitude and love, are annually killed, unwittingly, by such parents themselves, and this from the persistency in the practice we are so strenuously condemning. The mother frequently, on awaking, discovers the baby's face closely impacted between her bosom and her arm, and its body rigid and lifeless; or else so enveloped in the "head-blanket" and superincumbent bedclothes, as to render breathing a matter of physical impossibility. In such cases the jury in general returns a verdict of "_Accidentally overlaid_" but one of "Careless suffocation" would be more in accordance with truth and justice. The only possible excuse that can be urged, either by nurse or mother, for this culpable practice, is the plea of imparting warmth to the infant. But this can always be effected by an extra blanket in the child's crib, or, if the weather is particularly cold, by a bottle of hot water enveloped in flannel and placed at the child's feet; while all the objections already urged--as derivable from animal heat imparted by actual contact--are entirely obviated. There is another evil attending the sleeping together of the mother and infant, which, as far as regards the latter, we consider quite as formidable, though not so immediate as the others, and is always followed by more or less of mischief to the mother. The evil we now allude to is that most injurious practice of letting the child _suck_ after the mother has _fallen asleep_, a custom that naturally results from the former, and which, as we hare already said, is injurious to both mother and child. It is injurious to the infant by allowing it, without control, to imbibe to distension a fluid sluggishly secreted and deficient in those vital principles which the want of mental energy, and of the sympathetic appeals of the child on the mother, so powerfully produce on the secreted nutriment, while the mother wakes in a state of clammy exhaustion, with giddiness, dimness of sight, nausea, loss of appetite, and a dull aching pain through the back and between the shoulders. In fact, she wakes languid and unrefreshed from her sleep, with febrile symptoms and hectic flushes, caused by her baby vampire, who, while dragging from her her health and strength, has excited in itself a set of symptoms directly opposite, but fraught with the same injurious consequences--"functional derangement." THE MILK. 2472. As Nature has placed in the bosom of the mother the natural food of her offspring, it must be self-evident to every reflecting woman, that it becomes her duty to study, as far as lies in her power, to keep that reservoir of nourishment in as pure and invigorating a condition as possible; for she must remember that the _quantity_ is no proof of the _quality_ of this aliment. 2473. The mother, while suckling, as a general rule, should avoid all sedentary occupations, take regular exercise, keep her mind as lively and pleasingly occupied as possible, especially by music and singing. Her diet should be light and nutritious, with a proper sufficiency of animal food, and of that kind which yields the largest amount of nourishment; and, unless the digestion is naturally strong, vegetables and fruit should form a very small proportion of the general dietary, and such preparations as broths, gruels, arrowroot, &c., still less. Tapioca, or ground-rice pudding, made with several eggs, may be taken freely; but all slops and thin potations, such as that delusion called chicken-broth, should be avoided, as yielding a very small amount of nutriment, and a large proportion of flatulence. All purely stimulants should be avoided as much as possible, especially spirits, unless taken for some special object, and that medicinally; but as a part of the dietary they should be carefully shunned. Lactation is always an exhausting process, and as the child increases in size and strength, the drain upon the mother becomes great and depressing. Then something more even than an abundant diet is required to keep the mind and body up to a standard sufficiently healthy to admit of a constant and nutritious secretion being performed without detriment to the physical integrity of the mother, or injury to the child who imbibes it; and as stimulants are inadmissible, if not positively injurious, the substitute required is to be found in _malt liquor_. To the lady accustomed to her Madeira and sherry, this may appear a very vulgar potation for a delicate young mother to take instead of the more subtle and condensed elegance of wine; but as we are writing from experience, and with the avowed object of imparting useful facts and beneficial remedies to our readers, we allow no social distinctions to interfere with our legitimate object. 2474. We have already said that the suckling mother should avoid stimulants, especially spirituous ones; and though something of this sort is absolutely necessary to support her strength during the exhausting process, it should be rather of a _tonic_ than of a stimulating character; and as all wines contain a large percentage of brandy, they are on that account less beneficial than the pure juice of the fermented grape might be. But there is another consideration to be taken into account on this subject; the mother has not only to think of herself, but also of her infant. Now wines, especially port wine, very often--indeed, most frequently--affect the baby's bowels, and what might have been grateful to the mother becomes thus a source of pain and irritation to the child afterwards. Sherry is less open to this objection than other wines, yet still _it_ very frequently does influence the second participator, or the child whose mother has taken it. 2475. The nine or twelve months a woman usually suckles must be, to some extent, to most mothers, a period of privation and penance, and unless she is deaf to the cries of her baby, and insensible to its kicks and plunges, and will not see in such muscular evidences the griping pains that rack her child, she will avoid every article that can remotely affect the little being who draws its sustenance from her. She will see that the babe is acutely affected by all that in any way influences her, and willingly curtail her own enjoyments, rather than see her infant rendered feverish, irritable, and uncomfortable. As the best tonic, then, and the most efficacious indirect stimulant that a mother can take at such times, there is no potation equal to _porter_ and _stout_, or, what is better still, an equal part of porter and stout. Ale, except for a few constitutions, is too subtle and too sweet, generally causing acidity or heartburn, and stout alone is too potent to admit of a full draught, from its proneness to affect the head; and quantity, as well as moderate strength, is required to make the draught effectual; the equal mixture, therefore, of stout and porter yields all the properties desired or desirable as a medicinal agent for this purpose. 2476. Independently of its invigorating influence on the constitution, _porter exerts a marked and specific effect on the secretion of milk; more powerful in exciting an abundant supply of that fluid than any other article within the range of the physician's art;_ and, in cases of deficient quantity, is the most certain, speedy, and the healthiest means that can be employed to insure a quick and abundant flow. In cases where malt liquor produces flatulency, a few grains of the "carbonate of soda" may advantageously be added to each glass immediately before drinking, which will have the effect of neutralizing any acidity that may be in the porter at the time, and will also prevent its after-disagreement with the stomach. The quantity to be taken must depend upon the natural strength of the mother, the age and demand made by the infant on the parent, and other causes; but the amount should vary from _one_ to _two_ pints a day, never taking less than half a pint at a time, which should be repeated three or four times a day. 2477. We have said that the period of suckling is a season of penance to the mother, but this is not invariably the case; and, as so much must depend upon the natural strength of the stomach, and its power of assimilating all kinds of food into healthy _chyle_, it is impossible to define exceptions. Where a woman feels she can eat any kind of food, without inconvenience or detriment, she should live during her suckling as she did before; but, as a general rule, we are bound to advise all mothers to abstain from such articles as pickles, fruits, cucumbers, and all acid and slowly digestible foods, unless they wish for restless nights and crying infants. 2478. As regards exercise and amusement, we would certainly neither prohibit a mother's dancing, going to a theatre, nor even from attending an assembly. The first, however, is the best indoor recreation she can take, and a young mother will do well to often amuse herself in the nursery with this most excellent means of healthful circulation. The only precaution necessary is to avoid letting the child suck the milk that has lain long in the breast, or is heated by excessive action. 2479. Every mother who can, should be provided with a breast-pump, or glass tube, to draw off the superabundance that has been accumulating in her absence from the child, or the first gush excited by undue exertion: the subsequent supply of milk will be secreted under the invigorating influence of a previous healthy stimulus. 2480. As the first milk that is secreted contains a large amount of the saline elements, and is thin and innutritious, it is most admirably adapted for the purpose Nature designed it to fulfil,--that of an aperient; but which, unfortunately, it is seldom permitted, in our artificial mode of living, to perform. 2481. So opposed are we to the objectionable plan of physicking new-born children, that, unless for positive illness, we would much rather advise that medicine should be administered _through_ the mother for the first eight or ten weeks of its existence. This practice, which few mothers will object to, is easily effected by the parent, when such a course is necessary for the child, taking either a dose of castor-oil, half an ounce of tasteless salts (the phosphate of soda), one or two teaspoonfuls of magnesia, a dose of lenitive electuary, manna, or any mild and simple aperient, which, almost before it can have taken effect on herself, will exhibit its action on her child. 2482. One of the most common errors that mothers fall into while suckling their children, is that of fancying they are always hungry, and consequently overfeeding them; and with this, the great mistake of applying the child to the breast on every occasion of its crying, without investigating the cause of its complaint, and, under the belief that it wants food, putting the nipple into its crying mouth, until the infant turns in revulsion and petulance from what it should accept with eagerness and joy. At such times, a few teaspoonfuls of water, slightly chilled, will often instantly pacify a crying and restless child, who has turned in loathing from the offered breast; or, after imbibing a few drops, and finding it not what nature craved, throws back its head in disgust, and cries more petulantly than before. In such a case as this, the young mother, grieved at her baby's rejection of the tempting present, and distressed at its cries, and in terror of some injury, over and over ransacks its clothes, believing some insecure pin can alone be the cause of such sharp complaining, an accident that, from her own care in dressing, however, is seldom or ever the case. 2483. These abrupt cries of the child, if they do not proceed from thirst, which a little water will relieve, not unfrequently occur from some unequal pressure, a fold or twist in the "roller," or some constriction round the tender body. If this is suspected, the mother must not be content with merely slackening the strings; the child should be undressed, and the creases and folds of the hot skin, especially those about the thighs and groins, examined, to see that no powder has caked, and, becoming hard, irritated the parts. The violet powder should be dusted freely over all, to cool the skin, and everything put on fresh and smooth. If such precautions have not afforded relief, and, in addition to the crying, the child plunges or draws up its legs, the mother may be assured some cause of irritation exists in the stomach or bowels,--either acidity in the latter or distension from overfeeding in the former; but, from whichever cause, the child should be "opened" before the fire, and a heated napkin applied all over the abdomen, the infant being occasionally elevated to a sitting position, and while gently jolted on the knee, the back should be lightly patted with the hand. 2484. Should the mother have any reason to apprehend that the _cause_ of inconvenience proceeds from the bladder--a not unfrequent source of pain,--the napkin is to be dipped in hot water, squeezed out, and immediately applied over the part, and repeated every eight or ten minutes, for several times in succession, either till the natural relief is afforded, or a cessation of pain allows of its discontinuance. The pain that young infants often suffer, and the crying that results from it, is, as we have already said, frequently caused by the mother inconsiderately overfeeding her child, and is produced by the pain of distension, and the mechanical pressure of a larger quantity of fluid in the stomach than the gastric juice can convert into cheese and digest. 2485. Some children are stronger in the enduring power of the stomach than others, and get rid of the excess by vomiting, concluding every process of suckling by an emission of milk and curd. Such children are called by nurses "thriving children;" and generally they are so, simply because their digestion is good, and they have the power of expelling with impunity that superabundance of aliment which in others is a source of distension, flatulence, and pain. 2486. The length of time an infant should be suckled must depend much on the health and strength of the child, and the health of the mother, and the quantity and quality of her milk; though, when all circumstances are favourable, it should never be less than _nine_, nor exceed _fifteen_ months; but perhaps the true time will be found in the medium between both. But of this we may be sure, that Nature never ordained a child to live on suction after having endowed it with teeth to bite and to grind; and nothing is more out of place and unseemly than to hear a child, with a set of twenty teeth, ask for "the breast." 2487. The practice of protracted wet-nursing is hurtful to the mother, by keeping up an uncalled-for, and, after the proper time, an unhealthy drain on her system, while the child either derives no benefit from what it no longer requires, or it produces a positive injury on its constitution. After the period when Nature has ordained the child shall live by other means, the secretion of milk becomes thin and deteriorated, showing in the flabby flesh and puny features of the child both its loss of nutritious properties and the want of more stimulating aliment. 2488. Though we have said that twelve months is about the medium time a baby should be suckled, we by no means wish to imply that a child should be fed exclusively on milk for its first year; quite the reverse; the infant can hardly be too soon made independent of the mother. Thus, should illness assail her, her milk fail, or any domestic cause abruptly cut off the natural supply, the child having been annealed to an artificial diet, its life might be safely carried on without seeking for a wet-nurse, and without the slightest danger to its system. 2489. The advantage to the mother of early accustoming the child to artificial food is as considerable to herself as beneficial to her infant; the demand on her physical strength in the first instance will be less severe and exhausting, the child will sleep longer on a less rapidly digestible aliment, and yield to both more quiet nights, and the mother will be more at liberty to go out for business or pleasure, another means of sustenance being at hand till her return. Besides these advantages, by a judicious blending of the two systems of feeding, the infant will acquire greater constitutional strength, so that, if attacked by sickness or disease, it will have a much greater chance of resisting its virulence than if dependent alone on the mother, whose milk, affected by fatigue and the natural anxiety of the parent for her offspring, is at such a time neither good in its properties nor likely to be beneficial to the patient. 2490. All that we have further to say on suckling is an advice to mothers, that if they wish to keep a sound and unchapped nipple, and possibly avoid what is called a "broken breast," never to put it up with a wet nipple, but always to have a soft handkerchief in readiness, and the moment that delicate part is drawn from the child's mouth, to dry it carefully of the milk and saliva that moisten it; and, further, to make a practice of suckling from each breast alternately. Dress and Dressing, Washing, &c. 2491. As respects the dress and dressing of a new-born infant, or of a child in arms, during any stage of its nursing, there are few women who will require us to give them guidance or directions for their instruction; and though a few hints on the subject may not be out of place here, yet most women intuitively "take to a baby," and, with a small amount of experience, are able to perform all the little offices necessary to its comfort and cleanliness with ease and completeness. We shall, therefore, on this delicate subject hold our peace; and only, from afar, _hint_ "at what we would," leaving our suggestions to be approved or rejected, according as they chime with the judgment and the apprehension of our motherly readers. 2492. In these days of intelligence, there are few ladies who have not, in all probability, seen the manner in which the Indian squaw, the aborigines of Polynesia, and even the Lapp and Esquimaux, strap down their baby on a board, and by means of a loop suspend it to the bough of a tree, hang it up to the rafters of the hut, or on travel, dangle it on their backs, outside the domestic implements, which, as the slave of her master, man, the wronged but uncomplaining woman carries, in order that her lord may march in unhampered freedom. Cruel and confining as this system of "backboard" dressing may seem to our modern notions of freedom and exercise, it is positively less irksome, less confining, and infinitely less prejudicial to health, than the mummying of children by our grandmothers a hundred, ay, fifty years ago: for what with chin-stays, back-stays, body-stays, forehead-cloths, rollers, bandages, &c., an infant had as many girths and strings, to keep head, limbs, and body in one exact position, as a ship has halyards. 2493. Much of this--indeed we may say all--has been abolished; but still the child is far from being dressed loosely enough; and we shall never be satisfied till the abominable use of the _pin_ is avoided _in toto_ in an infant's dressing, and a texture made for all the under garments of a child of a cool and elastic material. 2494. The manner in which an infant is encircled in a bandage called the "roller," as if it had fractured ribs, compressing those organs--that, living on suction, must be, for the health of the child, to a certain degree distended, to obtain sufficient aliment from the fluid imbibed--is perfectly preposterous. Our humanity, as well as our duty, calls upon us at once to abrogate and discountenance by every means in our power. Instead of the process of washing and dressing being made, as with the adult, a refreshment and comfort, it is, by the dawdling manner in which it is performed, the multiplicity of things used, and the perpetual change of position of the infant to adjust its complicated clothing, rendered an operation of positive irritation and annoyance. We, therefore, entreat all mothers to regard this subject in its true light, and study to the utmost, simplicity in dress, and dispatch in the process. 2495. Children do not so much cry from the washing as from the irritation caused by the frequent change of position in which they are placed, the number of times they are turned on their face, on their back, and on their side, by the manipulations demanded by the multiplicity of articles to be fitted, tacked, and carefully adjusted on their bodies. What mother ever found her girl of six or seven stand quiet while she was curling her hair? How many times nightly has she not to reprove her for not standing still during the process! It is the same with the unconscious infant, who cannot bear to be moved about, and who has no sooner grown reconciled to one position than it is forced reluctantly into another. It is true, in one instance the child has intelligence to guide it, and in the other not; but the _motitory nerves_, in both instances, resent coercion, and a child cannot be too little handled. 2496. On this account alone, and, for the moment, setting health and comfort out of the question, we beg mothers to simplify their baby's dress as much as possible; and not only to put on as little as is absolutely necessary, but to make that as simple in its contrivance and adjustment as it will admit of; to avoid belly-bands, rollers, girths, and everything that can impede or confine the natural expansion of the digestive organs, on the due performance of whose functions the child lives, thrives, and develops its physical being. REARING BY HAND. Articles necessary, and how to use them,--Preparation of Foods.-- Baths.--Advantages of Rearing by Hand. 2497. As we do not for a moment wish to be thought an advocate for an artificial, in preference to the natural course of rearing children, we beg our renders to understand us perfectly on this head; all we desire to prove is the fact that a child _can_ be brought up as well on a spoon dietary as the best example to be found of those reared on the breast; having more strength, indeed, from the more nutritious food on which it lives. It will be thus less liable to infectious diseases, and more capable of resisting the virulence of any danger that may attack it; and without in any way depreciating the nutriment of its natural food, we wish to impress on the mother's mind that there are many cases of infantine debility which might eventuate in rickets, curvature of the spine, or mesenteric disease, where the addition to, or total substitution of, an artificial and more stimulating aliment, would not only give tone and strength to the constitution, but at the same time render the employment of mechanical means totally unnecessary. And, finally, though we would never--where the mother had the strength to suckle her child--supersede the breast, we would insist on making it a rule to accustom the child as early as possible to the use of an artificial diet, not only that it may acquire more vigour to help it over the ills of childhood, but that, in the absence of the mother, it might not miss the maternal sustenance; and also for the parent's sake, that, should the milk, from any cause, become vitiated, or suddenly cease, the child can be made over to the bottle and the spoon without the slightest apprehension of hurtful consequences. 2498. To those persons unacquainted with the system, or who may have been erroneously informed on the matter, the rearing of a child by hand may seem surrounded by innumerable difficulties, and a large amount of personal trouble and anxiety to the nurse or mother who undertakes the duty. This, however, is a fallacy in every respect, except as regards the fact of preparing the food; but even this extra amount of work, by adopting the course we shall lay down, may be reduced to a very small sum of inconvenience; and as respects anxiety, the only thing calling for care is the display of judgment in the preparation of the food. The articles required for the purpose of feeding an infant are a night-lamp, with its pan and lid, to keep the food warm; a nursing-bottle, with a prepared teat; and a small pap saucepan, for use by day. Of the lamp we need hardly speak, most mothers being acquainted with its operation: but to those to whom it is unknown we may observe, that the flame from the floating rushlight heats the water in the reservoir above, in which the covered pan that contains the food floats, keeping it at such a heat that, when thinned by milk, it will be of a temperature suitable for immediate use. Though many kinds of nursing-bottles have been lately invented, and some mounted with India-rubber nipples, the common glass bottle, with the calf's teat, is equal in cleanliness and utility to any; besides, the nipple put into the child's mouth is so white and natural in appearance, that no child taken from the breast will refuse it. The black artificial ones of caoutchouc or gutta-percha are unnatural. The prepared teats can be obtained at any chemist's, and as they are kept in spirits, they will require a little soaking in warm water, and gentle washing, before being tied securely, by means of fine twine, round the neck of the bottle, just sufficient being left projecting for the child to grasp freely in its lips; for if left the full length, or over long, it will be drawn too far into the mouth, and possibly make the infant heave. When once properly adjusted, the nipple need never be removed till replaced by a new one, which will hardly be necessary oftener than once a fortnight, though with care one will last for several weeks. The nursing-bottle should be thoroughly washed and cleaned every day, and always rinsed out before and after using it, the warm water being squeezed through the nipple, to wash out any particles of food that might lodge in the aperture, and become sour. The teat can always be kept white and soft by turning the end of the bottle, when not in use, into a narrow jug containing water, taking care to dry it first, and then to warm it by drawing the food through before putting it into the child's mouth. Food, and its Preparation. 2499. The articles generally employed as food for infants consist of arrowroot, bread, flour, baked flour, prepared groats, farinaceous food, biscuit-powder, biscuits, tops-and-bottoms, and semolina, or manna croup, as it is otherwise called, which, like tapioca, is the prepared pith of certain vegetable substances. Of this list the least efficacious, though, perhaps, the most believed in, is arrowroot, which only as a mere agent, for change, and then only for a very short time, should ever be employed as a means of diet to infancy or childhood. It is a thin, flatulent, and innutritious food, and incapable of supporting infantine life with energy. Bread, though the universal _régime_ with the labouring poor, where the infant's stomach and digestive powers are a reflex, in miniature, of the father's, should never be given to an infant under three months, and, even then, however finely beaten up and smoothly made, is a very questionable diet. Flour, when well boiled, though infinitely better than arrowroot, is still only a kind of fermentative paste, that counteracts its own good by after-acidity and flatulence. 2500. Baked flour, when cooked into a pale brown mass, and finely powdered, makes a far superior food to the others, and may be considered as a very useful diet, especially for a change. Prepared groats may be classed with arrowroot and raw flour, as being innutritious. The articles that now follow in our list are all good, and such as we could, with conscience and safety, trust to for the health and development of any child whatever. 2501. We may observe in this place, that an occasional change in the character of the food is highly desirable, both as regards the health and benefit of the child; and though the interruption should only last for a day, the change will be advantageous. 2502. The packets sold as farinaceous food are unquestionably the best aliment that can be given from the first to a baby, and may be continued, with the exception of an occasional change, without alteration of the material, till the child is able to take its regular meals of animal and vegetable food. Some infants are so constituted as to require a frequent and total change in their system of living, seeming to thrive for a certain time on any food given to them, but if persevered in too long, declining in bulk and appearance as rapidly as they had previously progressed. In such cases the food should be immediately changed, and when that which appeared to agree best with the child is resumed, it should be altered in its quality, and perhaps in its consistency. 2503. For the farinaceous food there are directions with each packet, containing instructions for the making; but, whatever the food employed is, enough should be made at once to last the day and night; at first, about a pint basinful, but, as the child advances, a quart will hardly be too much. In all cases, let the food boil a sufficient time, constantly stirring, and taking every precaution that it does not get burnt, in which case it is on no account to be used. 2504. The food should always be made with water, the whole sweetened at once, and of such a consistency that, when poured out, and it has had time to cool, it will cut with the firmness of a pudding or custard. One or two spoonfuls are to be put into the pap saucepan and stood on the hob till the heat has softened it, when enough milk is to be added, and carefully mixed with the food, till the whole has the consistency of ordinary cream; it is then to be poured into the nursing-bottle, and the food having been drawn through to warm the nipple, it is to be placed in the child's mouth. For the first month or more, half a bottleful will be quite enough to give the infant at one time; but, as the child grows, it will be necessary not only to increase the quantity given at each time, but also gradually to make its food more consistent, and, after the third month, to add an egg to every pint basin of food made. At night the mother puts the food into the covered pan of her lamp, instead of the saucepan--that is, enough for one supply, and, having lighted the rush, she will find, on the waking of her child, the food sufficiently hot to bear the cooling addition of the milk. But, whether night or day, the same food should never be heated twice, and what the child leaves should be thrown away. 2505. The biscuit powder is used in the same manner as the farinaceous food, and both prepared much after the fashion of making starch. But when tops-and-bottoms, or the whole biscuit, are employed, they require soaking in cold water for some time previous to boiling. The biscuit or biscuits are then to be slowly boiled in as much water as will, when thoroughly soft, allow of their being beaten by a three-pronged fork into a fine, smooth, and even pulp, and which, when poured into a basin and become cold, will cut out like a custard. If two large biscuits have been so treated, and the child is six or seven months old, beat up two eggs, sufficient sugar to properly sweeten it, and about a pint of skim milk. Pour this on the beaten biscuit in the saucepan, stirring constantly; boil for about five minutes, pour into a basin, and use, when cold, in the same manner as the other. 2506. This makes an admirable food, at once nutritious and strengthening. When tops-and-bottoms or rusks are used, the quantity of the egg may be reduced, or altogether omitted. 2507. Semolina, or manna croup, being in little hard grains, like a fine millet-seed, must be boiled for some time, and the milk, sugar, and egg added to it on the fire, and boiled for a few minutes longer, and, when cold, used as the other preparations. 2508. Many persons entertain a belief that cow's milk is hurtful to infants, and, consequently, refrain from giving it; but this is a very great mistake, for both sugar and milk should form a large portion of every meal an infant takes. TEETHING AND CONVULSIONS. Fits, &c., the consequence of Dentition, and how to be treated.--The number and order of the Teeth, and manner in which they are cut.--First and Second Set. 2509. About three months after birth, the infant's troubles may be said to begin; teeth commence forming in the gums, causing pain and irritation in the mouth, and which, but for the saliva it causes to flow so abundantly, would be attended with very serious consequences. At the same time the mother frequently relaxes in the punctuality of the regimen imposed on her, and, taking some unusual or different food, excites diarrhoea or irritation in her child's stomach, which not unfrequently results in a rash on the skin, or slight febrile symptoms, which, if not subdued in their outset, superinduce some more serious form of infantine disease. But, as a general rule, the teeth are the primary cause of much of the child's sufferings, in consequence of the state of nervous and functional irritation into which the system is thrown by their formation and progress out of the jaw and through the gums. We propose beginning this branch of our subject with that most fertile source of an infant's suffering-- Teething. 2510. That this subject may he better understood by the nurse and mother, and the reason of the constitutional disturbance that, to a greater or less degree, is experienced by all infants, may be made intelligible to those who have the care of children, we shall commence by giving a brief account of the formation of the teeth, the age at which they appear in the mouth, and the order in which they pierce the gums. The organs of mastication in the adult consist of 32 distinct teeth, 16 in either jaw; being, in fact, a double set. The teeth are divided into 4 incisors, 2 canine, 4 first and second grinders, and 6 molars; but in childhood the complement or first set consists of only twenty, and these only make their appearance as the development of the frame indicates the requirement of a different kind of food for the support of the system. At birth some of the first-cut teeth are found in the cavities of the jaw, in a very small and rudimentary form; but this is by no means universal. About the third month, the jaws, which are hollow and divided into separate cells, begin to expand, making room for the slowly developing teeth, which, arranged for beauty and economy of space lengthwise, gradually turn their tops upwards, piercing the gum by their edges, which, being sharp, assist in cutting a passage through the soft parts. There is no particular period at which children cut their teeth, some being remarkably early, and others equally late. The earliest age that we have ever ourselves known as a reliable fact was, _six weeks_. Such peculiarities are generally hereditary, and, as in this case, common to a whole family. The two extremes are probably represented by six and sixteen months. Pain and drivelling are the usual, but by no means the general, indications of teething. 2511. About the sixth month the gums become tense and swollen, presenting a red, shiny appearance, while the salivary glands pour out an unusual quantity of saliva. After a time, a white line or round spot is observed on the top of one part of the gums, and the sharp edge of the tooth may be felt beneath if the finger is gently pressed on the part. Through these white spots the teeth burst their way in the following order:-- 2512. Two incisors in the lower jaw are first cut, though, in general, some weeks elapse between the appearance of the first and the advent of the second. The next teeth cut are the four incisors of the upper jaw. The next in order are the remaining two incisors of the bottom, one on each side, then two top and two bottom on each side, but not joining the incisors; and lastly, about the eighteenth or twentieth month, the four eye teeth, filling up the space left between the side teeth and the incisors; thus completing the infant's set of sixteen. Sometimes at the same period, but more frequently some months later, four more double teeth slowly make their appearance, one on each side of each jaw, completing the entire series of the child's first set of twenty teeth. It is asserted that a child, while cutting its teeth, should either dribble excessively, vomit after every meal, or be greatly relaxed. Though one or other, or all of these at once, may attend a case of teething, it by no means follows that any one of them should accompany this process of nature, though there can be no doubt that where the pain consequent on the unyielding state of the gums, and the firmness of the skin that covers the tooth, is severe, a copious discharge of saliva acts beneficially in saving the head, and also in guarding the child from those dangerous attacks of fits to which many children in their teething are liable. 2513. _The Symptoms_ that generally indicate the cutting of teeth, in addition to the inflamed and swollen state of the gums, and increased flow of saliva, are the restless and peevish state of the child, the hands being thrust into the mouth, and the evident pleasure imparted by rubbing the finger or nail gently along the gum; the lips are often excoriated, and the functions of the stomach or bowels are out of order. In severe cases, occurring in unhealthy or scrofulous children, there are, from the first, considerable fever, disturbed sleep, fretfulness, diarrhoea, rolling of the eyes, convulsive startings, laborious breathing, coma, or unnatural sleep, ending, unless the head is quickly relieved, in death. 2514. The _Treatment_ in all cases of painful teething is remarkably simple, and consists in keeping the body cool by mild aperient medicines, allaying the irritation in the gums by friction with a rough ivory ring or a stale crust of broad, and when the head, lungs, or any organ is overloaded or unduly excited, to use the hot bath, and by throwing the body into a perspiration, equalize the circulation, and relieve the system from the danger of a fatal termination. 2515. Besides these, there is another means, but that must be employed by a medical man; namely, scarifying the gums--an operation always safe, and which, when judiciously performed, and at a critical opportunity, will often snatch the child from the grasp of death. 2516. There are few subjects on which mothers have often formed such strong and mistaken opinions as on that of lancing an infant's gums, some rather seeing their child go into fits--and by the unrelieved irritation endangering inflammation of the brain, water on the head, rickets, and other lingering affections--than permit the surgeon to afford instant relief by cutting through the hard skin, which, like a bladder over the stopper of a bottle, effectually confines the tooth to the socket, and prevents it piercing the soft, spongy substance of the gum. This prejudice is a great error, as we shall presently show; for, so far from hurting the child, there is nothing that will so soon convert an infant's tears into smiles as scarifying the gums in painful teething; that is, if effectually done, and the skin of the tooth be divided. 2517. Though teething is a natural function, and to an infant in perfect health should be unproductive of pain, yet in general it is not only a fertile cause of suffering, but often a source of alarm and danger; the former, from irritation in the stomach and bowels, deranging the whole economy of the system, and the latter, from coma and fits, that may excite alarm in severe cases; and the danger, that eventuates in some instances, from organic disease of the head or spinal marrow. 2518. We shall say nothing in this place of "rickets," or "water on the head," which are frequent results of dental irritation, but proceed to finish our remarks on the treatment of teething. Though strongly advocating the lancing of the gums in teething, and when there are any severe head-symptoms, yet it should never be needlessly done, or before being satisfied that the tooth is fully formed, and is out of the socket, and under the gum. When assured on these points, the gum should be cut lengthwise, and from the top of the gum downwards to the tooth, in an horizontal direction, thus----, and for about half an inch in length. The operation is then to be repeated in a transverse direction, cutting across the gum, in the centre of the first incision, and forming a cross, thus +. The object of this double incision is to insure a retraction of the cut parts, and leave an open way for the tooth to start from--an advantage not to be obtained when only one incision is made; for unless the tooth immediately follows the lancing, the opening reunites, and the operation has to be repeated. That this operation is very little or not at all painful, is evidenced by the suddenness with which the infant falls asleep after the lancing, and awakes in apparently perfect health, though immediately before the use of the gum-lancet, the child may have been shrieking or in convulsions. Convulsions, or Infantine Fits. 2519. From their birth till after teething, infants are more or less subject or liable to sudden fits, which often, without any assignable cause, will attack the child in a moment, and while in the mother's arms; and which, according to their frequency, and the age and strength of the infant, are either slight or dangerous. 2520. Whatever may have been the remote cause, the immediate one is some irritation of the nervous system, causing convulsions, or an effusion to the head, inducing coma. In the first instance, the infant cries out with a quick, short scream, rolls up its eyes, arches its body backwards, its arms become bent and fixed, and the fingers parted; the lips and eyelids assume a dusky leaden colour, while the face remains pale, and the eyes open, glassy, or staring. This condition may or may not be attended with muscular twitchings of the mouth, and convulsive plunges of the arms. The fit generally lasts from one to three minutes, when the child recovers with a sigh, and the relaxation of the body. In the other case, the infant is attacked at once with total insensibility and relaxation of the limbs, coldness of the body and suppressed breathing; the eyes, when open, being dilated, and presenting a dim glistening appearance; the infant appearing, for the moment, to be dead. 2521. _Treatment._-The first step in either case is, to immerse the child in a hot bath up to the chin; or if sufficient hot water cannot be procured to cover the body, make a hip-bath of what can be obtained; and, while the left hand supports the child in a sitting or recumbent position, with the right scoop up the water, and run it over the chest of the patient. When sufficient water can be obtained, the spine should be briskly rubbed while in the bath; when this cannot be done, lay the child on the knees, and with the fingers dipped in brandy, rub the whole length of the spine vigorously for two or three minutes, and when restored to consciousness, give occasionally a teaspoonful of weak brandy and water or wine and water. 2522. An hour after the bath, it may be necessary to give an aperient powder, possibly also to repeat the dose for once or twice every three hours; in which case the following prescription is to be employed. Take of Powdered scammony 6 grains. Grey powder 6 grains. Antimonial powder 4 grains. Lump sugar 20 grains. Mix thoroughly, and divide into three powders, which are to be taken as advised for an infant one year old; for younger or weakly infants, divide into four powders, and give as the other. For thirst and febrile symptoms, give drinks of barley-water, or cold water, and every three hours put ten to fifteen drops of spirits of sweet nitre in a dessert-spoonful of either beverage. THRUSH, AND ITS TREATMENT. 2523. This is a disease to which infants are peculiarly subject, and in whom alone it may be said to be a disease; for when thrush shows itself in adult or advanced life, it is not as a disease proper, but only as a symptom, or accessory, of some other ailment, generally of a chronic character, and should no more be classed as a separate affection than the petechae, or dark-coloured spots that appear in malignant measles, may be considered a distinct affection. 2524. Thrush is a disease of the follicles of the mucous membrane of the alimentary canal, whereby there are formed small vesicles, or bladders, filled with a thick mucous secretion, which, bursting, discharge their contents, and form minute ulcers in the centre of each vessel. To make this formal but unavoidable description intelligible, we must beg the reader's patience while we briefly explain terms that may appear to many so unmeaning, and make the pathology of thrush fully familiar. 2525. The whole digestive canal, of which the stomach and bowels are only a part, is covered, from the lips, eyes, and ears downwards, with a thin glairy tissue, like the skin that lines the inside of an egg, called the mucous membrane; this membrane is dotted all over, in a state of health, by imperceptible points, called follicles, through which the saliva, or mucous secreted by the membrane, is poured out. 2526. These follicles, or little glands, then, becoming enlarged, and filled with a congealed fluid, constitute thrush in its first stage; and when the child's lips and mouth appear a mass of small pearls, then, as these break and discharge, the second stage, or that of ulceration, sets in. 2527. _Symptoms._--Thrush is generally preceded by considerable irritation, by the child crying and fretting, showing more than ordinary redness of the lips and nostrils, hot fetid breath, with relaxed bowels, and dark feculent evacuations; the water is scanty and high-coloured; whilst considerable difficulty in swallowing, and much thirst, are the other symptoms, which a careful observation of the little patient makes manifest. 2528. The situation and character of thrush show at once that the cause is some irritation of the mucous membrane, and can proceed only from the nature and quality of the food. Before weaning, this must be looked for in the mother, and the condition of the milk; after that time, in the crude and indigestible nature of the food given. In either case, this exciting cause of the disease must be at once stopped. When it proceeds from the mother, it is always best to begin by physicking the infant through the parent; that is to say, let the parent first take the medicine, which will sufficiently affect the child through the milk: this plan has the double object of benefiting the patient and, at the same time, correcting the state of the mother, and improving the condition of her milk. In the other case, when the child is being fed by hand, then proceed by totally altering the style of aliment given, and substituting farinaceous food, custards, blanc-mange, and ground-rice puddings. 2529. As an aperient medicine for the mother, the best thing she can take is a dessert-spoonful of carbonate of magnesia once or twice a day, in a cup of cold water; and every second day, for two or three times, an aperient pill. 2530. As the thrush extends all over the mouth, throat, stomach, and bowels, the irritation to the child from such an extent of diseased surface is proportionately great, and before attempting to act on such a tender surface by opening medicine, the better plan is to soothe by an emollient mixture; and, for that purpose, let the following be prepared. Take of Castor oil 2 drachms. Sugar 1 drachm. Mucilage, or powdered gum Arabic half a drachm. Triturate till the oil is incorporated, then add slowly-- Mint-water One ounce and a half Laudanum Ten drops Half a teaspoonful three times a day, to an infant from one to two years old; a teaspoonful from two to three years old; and a dessertspoonful at any age over that time. After two days' use of the mixture, one of the following powders should be given twice a day, accompanied with one dose daily of the mixture:-- Grey powder 20 grains. Powdered rhubarb 15 grains. Scammony 10 grains. Mix. Divide into twelve powders, for one year; eight powders, from one to two; and six powders, from two to six years old. After that age, double the strength, by giving the quantity of two powders at once. 2531. It is sometimes customary to apply borax and honey to the mouth for thrush; but it is always better to treat the disease constitutionally rather than locally. The first steps, therefore, to be adopted are, to remove or correct the exciting cause--the mother's milk or food; allay irritation by a warm bath and the castor-oil mixture, followed by and conjoined with the powders. 2532. To those, however, who wish to try the honey process, the best preparation to use is the following:-Rub down one ounce of honey with two drachms of tincture of myrrh, and apply it to the lips and mouth every four or six hours. 2533. It is a popular belief, and one most devoutly cherished by many nurses and elderly persons, that everybody must, at some time of their life, between birth and death, have an attack of thrush, and if not in infancy, or prime of life, it will surely attack them on their death-bed, in a form more malignant than if the patient had been affected with the malady earlier; the black thrush with which they are then reported to be affected being, in all probability, the petechae or purple spots that characterize the worst form, and often the last stage, of typhoid fever. 2534. In general, very little medicine is needed in this disease of the thrush--an alterative powder, or a little magnesia, given once or twice, being all, with the warm bath, that, in the great majority of cases, is needed to restore the mucous membrane to health. As thrush is caused by an excess of heat, or over-action in the lining membrane of the stomach and bowels, whatever will counteract this state, by throwing the heat on the surface, must materially benefit, if not cure, the disease: and that means every mother has at hand, in the form of a _warm bath_. After the application of this, a little magnesia to correct the acidity existing along the surface of the mucous membrane, is often all that is needed to throw the system into such a state as will effect its own cure. This favourable state is indicated by an excessive flow of saliva, or what is called "dribbling," and by a considerable amount of relaxation of the bowels-a condition that must not be mistaken for diarrhoea, and checked as if a disease, but rather, for the day or two it continues, encouraged as a critical evacuant. 2535. Should there be much debility in the convalescence, half a teaspoonful of stee wine, given twice a day in a little barley-water, will be found sufficient for all the purposes of a tonic. This, with the precaution of changing the child's food, or, when it lives on the mother, of correcting the quality of the milk by changing her own diet, and, by means of an antacid or aperient, improving the state of the secretion. Such is all the treatment that this disease in general requires. 2536. The class of diseases we are now approaching are the most important, both in their pathological features and in their consequences on the constitution, of any group or individual disease that assails the human body; and though more frequently attacking the undeveloped frame of childhood, are yet by no means confined to that period. These are called Eruptive Fevers, and embrace chicken-pox, cow-pox, small-pox, scarlet fever, measles, milary fever, and erysipelas, or St. Anthony's fire. 2537. The general character of all these is, that they are contagious, and, as a general rule, attack a person only once in his lifetime; that their chain of diseased actions always begins with fever, and that, after an interval of from one to four days, the fever is followed by an eruption of the skin. CHICKEN-POX, OR GLASS-POX; AND COW-POX, OR VACCINATION. 2538. CHICKEN-POX, or GLASS-POX, may, in strict propriety, be classed as a mild variety of small-pox, presenting all the mitigated symptoms of that formidable disease. Among many physicians it is, indeed, classed as small-pox, and not a separate disease; but as this is not the place to discuss such questions, and as we profess to give only facts, the result of our own practical experience, we shall treat this affection of glass-pox or chicken-pox, as we ourselves have found it, as a distinct and separate disease. 2539. Chicken-pox is marked by all the febrile symptoms presented by small-pox, with this difference, that, in the case of chicken-pox, each symptom is particularly slight. The heat of body is much less acute, and the principal symptoms are difficulty of breathing, headache, coated tongue, and nausea, which sometimes amounts to vomiting. After a term of general irritability, heat, and restlessness, about the fourth day, or between the third and fourth, an eruption makes its appearance over the face, neck, and body, in its first two stages closely resembling small-pox, with this especial difference, that whereas the pustules in small-pox have _flat_ and _depressed_ centres--an infallible characteristic of small-pox--the pustules in chicken-pox remain _globular_, while the fluid in them changes from a transparent white to a straw-coloured liquid, which begins to exude and disappear about the eighth or ninth day, and, in mild cases, by the twelfth desquamates, or peels off entirely. 2540. There can be no doubt that chicken-pox, like small-pox, is contagious, and under certain states of the atmosphere becomes endemic. Parents should, therefore, avoid exposing young children to the danger of infection by taking them where it is known to exist, as chicken-pox, in weakly constitutions, or in very young children, may superinduce small-pox, the one disease either running concurrently with the other, or discovering itself as the other declines. This, of course, is a condition that renders the case very hazardous, as the child has to struggle against two diseases at once, or before it has recruited strength from the attack of the first. 2541. _Treatment_.--In all ordinary cases of chicken-pox--and it is very seldom it assumes any complexity--the whole treatment resolves itself into the use of the warm bath, and a course of gentle aperients. The bath should be used when the oppression of the lungs renders the breathing difficult, or the heat and dryness of the skin, with the undeveloped rash beneath the surface, shows the necessity for its use. 2542. As the pustules in chicken-pox very rarely run to the state of suppuration, as in the other disease, there is no fear of _pitting_ or disfigurement, except in very severe forms, which, however, happen so seldom as not to merit apprehension. When the eruption subsides, however, the face may be washed with elder-flower water, and the routine followed which is prescribed in the convalescent state of small-pox. 2543. COW-POX, properly speaking, is an artificial disease, established in a healthy body as a prophylactic, or preventive agent, against the more serious attack of small-pox, and is merely that chain of slight febrile symptoms and local irritation, consequent on the specific action of the lymph of the vaccination, in its action on the circulating system of the body. This is not the place to speak of the benefits conferred on mankind by the discovery of vaccination, not only as the preserver of the human features from a most loathsome disfigurement, but as a sanitary agent in the prolongation of life. 2544. Fortunately the State has now made it imperative on all parents to have their children vaccinated before, or by the end of, the twelfth week; thus doing away, as far as possible, with the danger to public health proceeding from the ignorance or prejudice of those parents whose want of information on the subject makes them object to the employment of this specific preventive; for though vaccination has been proved _not_ to be _always_ an infallible guard against small-pox, the attack is always much lighter, should it occur, and is seldom, if indeed _ever_, fatal after the precaution of vaccination. The best time to vaccinate a child is after the sixth and before the twelfth week, if it is in perfect health, but still earlier if small-pox is prevalent, and any danger exists of the infant taking the disease. It is customary, and always advisable, to give the child a mild aperient powder one or two days before inserting the lymph in the arm; and should measles, scarlet fever, or any other disease arise during the progress of the pustule, the child, when recovered, should be _re-vaccinated_, and the lymph taken from its arm on no account used for vaccinating purposes. 2545. The disease of cow-pox generally takes twenty days to complete its course; in other words, the maturity and declension of the pustule takes that time to fulfil its several changes. The mode of vaccination is either to insert the matter, or lymph, taken from a healthy child, under the cuticle in several places on both arms, or, which is still better, to make three slight scratches, or abrasions, with a lancet on one arm in this manner, ,,",, and work into the irritated parts the lymph, allowing the arm to dry thoroughly before putting down the infant's sleeve; by this means absorption is insured, and the unnecessary pain of several pustules on both arms avoided. No apparent change is observable by the eye for several days; indeed, not till the fourth, in many cases, is there any evidence of a vesicle; about the fifth day, however, a pink areola, or circle, is observed round one or all of the places, surrounding a small pearly vesicle or bladder. This goes on deepening in hue till the seventh or eighth day, when the vesicle is about an inch in diameter, with a depressed centre; on the ninth the edges are elevated, and the surrounding part hard and inflamed. The disease is now at its height, and the pustule should be opened, if not for the purpose of vaccinating other children, to allow the escape of the lymph, and subdue the inflammatory action. After the twelfth day the centre is covered by a brown scab, and the colour of the swelling becomes darker, gradually declining in hardness and colour till the twentieth, when the scab falls, off, leaving a small pit, or cicatrix, to mark the seat of the disease, and for life prove a certificate of successful vaccination. 2546. In some children the inflammation and swelling of the arm is excessive, and extremely painful, and the fever, about the ninth or tenth day, very high; the pustule, therefore, at that time, should sometimes be opened, the arm fomented every two hours with a warm bread poultice, and an aperient powder given to the infant. MEASLES AND SCARLET FEVER, WITH THE TREATMENT OF BOTH. Measles. 2547. This much-dreaded disease, which forms the next subject in our series of infantine diseases, and which entails more evils on the health of childhood than any other description of physical suffering to which that age of life is subject, may be considered more an affection of the venous circulation, tending to general and local congestion, attended with a diseased condition of the blood, than either as a fever or an inflammation; and though generally classed before or after scarlet fever, is, in its pathology and treatment, irrespective of its after-consequences, as distinct and opposite as one disease can well be from another. 4548. As we have already observed, measles are always characterized by the running at the nose and eyes, and great oppression of breathing; so, in the mode of treatment, two objects are to be held especially in view; first, to unload the congested state of the lungs,--the cause of the oppressed breathing; and, secondly, to act vigorously, both during the disease and afterwards, on the bowels. At the same time it cannot be too strongly borne in mind, that though the patient in measles should on no account be kept unduly hot, more care than in most infantine complaints should be taken to guard the body from _cold_, or any abrupt changes of temperature. With these special observations, we shall proceed to give a description of the disease, as recognized by its usual-- 2549. _Symptoms_, which commence with cold chills and flushes, lassitude, heaviness, pain in the head, and drowsiness, cough, hoarseness, and extreme difficulty of breathing, frequent sneezing, deduction or running at the eyes and nose, nausea, sometimes vomiting, thirst, a furred tongue; the pulse throughout is quick, and sometimes full and soft, at others hard and small, with other indications of an inflammatory nature. 2550. On the third day, small red points make their appearance, first on the face and neck, gradually extending over the upper and lower part of the body. On the fifth day, the vivid red of the eruption changes into a brownish hue; and, in two or three days more, the rash entirely disappears, leaving a loose powdery desquamation on the skin, which rubs off like dandriff. At this stage of the disease a diarrhoea frequently comes on, which, being what is called "critical," should never be checked, unless seriously severe. Measles sometimes assume a typhoid or malignant character, in which form the symptoms are all greatly exaggerated, and the case from the first becomes both doubtful and dangerous. In this condition the eruption comes out sooner, and only in patches; and often, after showing for a few hours, suddenly recedes, presenting, instead of the usual florid red, a dark purple or blackish hue; a dark brown fur forms on the gums and mouth, the breathing becomes laborious, delirium supervenes, and, if unrelieved, is followed by coma; a fetid diarrhoea takes place, and the patient sinks under the congested state of the lungs and the oppressed functions of the brain. 2551. The unfavourable symptoms in measles are a high degree of fever, the excessive heat and dryness of the skin, hurried and short breathing, and a particularly hard pulse. The sequels, or after-consequences, of measles are, croup, bronchitis, mesenteric disease, abscesses behind the ear, ophthalmia, and glandular swellings in other parts of the body. 2552. _Treatment_.--In the first place, the patient should be kept in a cool room, the temperature of which must be regulated to suit the child's feelings of comfort, and the diet adapted to the strictest principles of abstinence. When the inflammatory symptoms are severe, bleeding, in some form, is often necessary, though, when adopted, it must be in the _first stage_ of the disease; and, if the lungs are the apprehended seat of the inflammation, two or more leeches, according to the age and strength of the patient, must be applied to the upper part of the chest, followed by a small blister; or the blister may be substituted for the leeches, the attendant bearing in mind, that the benefit effected by the blister can always be considerably augmented by plunging the feet into very hot water about a couple of hours after applying the blister, and kept in the water for about two minutes. And let it further be remembered, that this immersion of the feet in hot water may be adopted at any time or stage of the disease; and that, whenever the _head_ or _lungs_ are oppressed, relief will _always_ accrue from its sudden and brief employment. When the symptoms commence with much shivering, and the skin early assumes a hot, dry character, the appearance of the rash will be facilitated, and all the other symptoms rendered milder, if the patient is put into a warm bath, and kept in the water for about three minutes. Or, where that is not convenient, the following process, which will answer quite as well, can be substituted:--Stand the child, naked, in a tub, and, having first prepared several jugs of sufficiently warm water, empty them, in quick succession, over the patient's shoulders and body; immediately wrap in a hot blanket, and put the child to bed till it rouses from the sleep that always follows the effusion or bath. This agent, by lowering the temperature of the skin, and opening the pores, producing a natural perspiration, and unloading the congested state of the lungs, in most cases does away entirely with the necessity both for leeches and a blister. Whether any of these external means have been employed or not, the first internal remedies should commence with a series of aperient powders and a saline mixture, as prescribed in the following formularies; at the same time, as a beverage to quench the thirst, let a quantity of barley-water be made, slightly acidulated by the juice of an orange, and partially sweetened by some sugar-candy; and of which, when properly made and cold, let the patient drink as often as thirst, or the dryness of the mouth, renders necessary. 2553. _Aperient Powders_.--Take of scammony and jalap, each 24 grains; grey powder and powdered antimony, each 18 grains. Mix and divide into 12 powders, if for a child between two and four years of age; into 8 powders, if for a child between four and eight years of ago; and into 6 powders for between eight and twelve years. One powder to be given, in a little jelly or sugar-and-water, every three or four hours, according to the severity of the symptoms. 2554. _Saline Mixture_.--Take of mint-water, 6 ounces; powdered nitre, 20 grains; antimonial wine, 3 drachms; spirits of nitre, 2 drachms; syrup of saffron, 2 drachms. Mix. To children under three years, give a teaspoonful every two hours; from that age to six, a dessertspoonful at the same times; and a tablespoonful every three or four hours to children between six and twelve. 2555. The object of these aperient powders is to keep up a steady but gentle action on the bowels; but, whenever it seems necessary to administer a stronger dose, and effect a brisk action on the digestive organs,--a course particularly imperative towards the close of the disease,--two of these powders given at once, according to the age, will be found to produce that effect; that is, two of the twelve for a child under four years, and two of the eight, and two of the six, according to the age of the patient. 2556. When the difficulty of breathing becomes oppressive, as it generally does towards night, a hot bran poultice, laid on the chest, will be always found highly beneficial. The diet throughout must be light, and consist of farinaceous food, such as rice and sago puddings, beef-tea and toast; and not till convalescence sets in should hard or animal food be given. 2557. When measles assume the malignant form, the advice just given must be broken through; food of a nutritious and stimulating character should be at once substituted, and administered in conjunction with wine, and even spirits, and the disease regarded and treated as a case of typhus. But, as this form of measles is not frequent, and, if occurring, hardly likely to be treated without assistance, it is unnecessary to enter on the minutiae of its practice here. What we have prescribed, in almost all cases, will be found sufficient to meet every emergency, without resorting to a multiplicity of agents. 2558. The great point to remember in measles is, not to give up the treatment with the apparent subsidence of the disease, as the _after-consequences_ of measles are too often more serious, and to be more dreaded, than the measles themselves. To guard against this danger, and thoroughly purify the system, after the subsidence of all the symptoms of the disease, a corrective course of medicine, and a regimen of exercise, should be adopted for some weeks after the cure of the disease. To effect this, an active aperient powder should be given every three or four clays, with a daily dose of the subjoined tonic mixture, with as much exercise, by walking, running after a hoop, or other bodily exertion, as the strength of the child and the state of the atmosphere will admit, the patient being, wherever possible, removed to a purer air as soon as convalescence warrants the change. 2559. _Tonic Mixture_.--Take of infusion of rose-leaves, 6 ounces; quinine, 8 grains; diluted sulphuric acid, 15 drops. Mix. Dose, from half a teaspoonful up to a dessertspoonful, once a day, according to the ago of the patient. Scarlatina, or Scarlet Fever. 2560. Though professional accuracy has divided this disease into several forms, we shall keep to the one disease most generally mot with, the common or simple scarlet fever, which, in all cases, is characterized by an excessive heat on the skin, sore throat, and a peculiar speckled appearance of the tongue. 2561. _Symptoms_.--Cold chills, shivering, nausea, thirst, hot skin, quick pulse, with difficulty of swallowing; the tongue is coated, presenting through its fur innumerable specks, the elevated papillae of the tongue, which gives it the speckled character, that, if not the invariable sign of scarlet fever, is only met with in cases closely analogous to that disease. Between the _second_ and __third_ day, but most frequently on the _third_, a bright red efflorescence breaks out in patches on the face, neck, and back, from which it extends over the trunk and extremities, always showing thicker and deeper in colour wherever there is any pressure, such as the elbows, back, and hips; when the eruption is well out, the skin presents the appearance of a boiled lobster-shell. At first, the skin is smooth, but, as the disease advances, perceptible roughness is apparent, from the elevation of the rash, or, more properly, the pores of the skin. On the _fifth_ and _sixth_ days the eruption begins to decline, and by the _eighth_ has generally entirely disappeared. During the whole of this period, there is, more or less, constant sore throat. 2562. The _Treatment_ of scarlet fever is, in general, very simple. Where the heat is great, and the eruption comes out with difficulty, or recedes as soon as it appears, the body should be sponged with cold vinegar-and-water, or tepid water, as in measles, poured over the chest and body, the patient being, as in that disease, wrapped in a blanket and put to bed, and the same powders and mixture ordered in measles administered, with the addition of a constant hot bran poultice round the throat, which should be continued from the first symptom till a day or two after the declension of the rash. The same low diet and cooling drink, with the same general instructions, are to be obeyed in this as in the former disease. 2563. When the fever runs high in the first stage, and there is much nausea, before employing the effusions of water, give the patient an emetic, of equal, parts of ipecacuanha and antimonial wine, in doses of from a teaspoonful to a tablespoonful, according to age. By these means, nine out of every ten cases of scarlatina may be safely and expeditiously cured, especially if the temperature of the patient's room is kept at an even standard of about sixty degrees. HOOPING-COUGH, CROUP, AND DIARRHOEA, WITH THEIR MODE OF TREATMENT. Hooping-Cough. 2564. THIS is purely a spasmodic disease, and is only infectious through the faculty of imitation, a habit that all children are remarkably apt to fall into; and even where adults have contracted hooping-cough, it has been from the same cause, and is as readily accounted for, on the principle of imitation, as that the gaping of one person will excite or predispose a whole party to follow the same spasmodic example. If any one associates for a few days with a person who stammers badly, he will find, when released from his company, that the sequence of his articulation and the fluency of his speech are, for a time, gone; and it will be a matter of constant vigilance, and some difficulty, to overcome the evil of so short an association. The manner in which a number of school-girls will, one after another, fall into a fit on beholding one of their number attacked with epilepsy, must be familiar to many. These several facts lead us to a juster notion of how to treat this spasmodic disease. Every effort should, therefore, be directed, mentally and physically, to break the chain of nervous action, on which the continuance of the cough depends. 2565. _Symptoms._--Hooping-cough comes on with a slight oppression of breathing, thirst, quick pulse, hoarseness, and a hard, dry cough. This state may exist without any change from one to two or three weeks before the peculiar feature of the disease-the _hoop_-sets in. As the characteristics of this cough are known to all, it is unnecessary to enter here, physiologically, on the subject. We shall, therefore, merely remark that the frequent vomiting and bleeding at the mouth or nose are favourable signs, and proceed to the 2566. _Treatment_, which should consist in keeping up a state of nausea and vomiting. For this purpose, give the child doses of ipecacuanha and antimonial wines, in equal parts, and quantities varying from half to one and a half teaspoonful once a day, or, when the expectoration is hard and difficult of expulsion, giving the following cough mixture every four hours. Take of Syrup of squills 1/2 ounce. Antimonial wine 1 ounce. Laudanum 15 drops. Syrup of Toulou 2 drachms. Water 1-1/2 ounce. Mix. The dose is from half a spoonful to a dessertspoonful. When the cough is urgent, the warm bath is to be used, and either one or two leeches applied over the breastbone, or else a small blister laid on the lower part of the throat. 2567. Such is the medical treatment of hooping-cough; but there is a moral regimen, based on the nature of the disease, which should never be omitted. And, on the principle that a sudden start or diversion of the mind will arrest a person in the act of sneezing or gaping, so the like means should be adopted with the hooping-cough patient; and, in the first stage, before the _hooping_ has been added, the parent should endeavour to break the paroxysm of the cough by abruptly attracting the patient's attention, and thus, if possible, preventing the cough from reaching that height when the ingulp of air gives the hoop or crow that marks the disease; but when once that symptom has set in, it becomes still more necessary to endeavour, by even measures of intimidation, to break the spasmodic chain of the cough. Exercise in the open air, when dry, is also requisite, and charge of scene and air in all cases is of absolute necessity, and may be adopted at any stage of the disease. Croup. 2568. This is by far the most formidable and fatal of all the diseases to which infancy and childhood are liable, and is purely an inflammatory affection, attacking that portion of the mucous membrane lining the windpipe and bronchial tubes, and from the effect of which a false or loose membrane is formed along the windpipe, resembling in appearance the finger of a glove suspended in the passage, and, consequently, terminating the life of the patient by suffocation; for, as the lower end grows together and becomes closed, no air can enter the lungs, and the child dies choked. All dull, fat, and heavy children are peculiarly predisposed to this disease, and those with short necks and who make a wheezing noise in their natural breathing. Croup is always sudden in its attack, and rapid in its career, usually proving fatal within three days; most frequently commences in the night, and generally attacking children between the ages of three and ten years. Mothers should, therefore, be on their guard who have children predisposed to this disease, and immediately resort to the means hereafter advised. 2569. _Symptoms_.--Languor and restlessness, hoarseness, wheezing, and short, dry cough, with occasional rattling in the throat during sleep, the child often plucking at its throat with its fingers; difficulty of breathing, which quickly becomes hard and laboured, causing great anxiety of the countenance, and the veins of the neck to swell and become knotted; the voice in speaking acquires a sharp, crowing, or croupy sound, while the inspirations have a harsh, metallic intonation. After a few hours, a quantity of thick, ropy mucus is thrown out, hanging about the mouth, and causing suffocating fits of coughing to expel. 2570. Treatment.--Place the child immediately in a hot bath up to the throat; and, on removal from the water, give an emetic of the antimonial or ipecacuanha wine, and, when the vomiting has subsided, lay a long blister down the front of the throat, and administer one of the following powders every twenty minutes to a child from three to six years of age. 2571. Take of calomel, 12 grains; tartar emetic, 2 grains; lump sugar, 30 grains. Mix accurately, and divide into 12 powders. For a child from six to twelve years, divide into 6 powders, and give one every half-hour. 2572. Should the symptoms remain unabated after a few hours, apply one or two leeches to the throat, and put mustard poultices to the foot and thighs, retaining them about eight minutes; and, in extreme cases, a mustard poultice to the spine between the shoulders, and at the same time rub mercurial ointment into the armpits and the angles of the jaws. 2573. Such is a vigorous and reliable system of treatment in severe cases of croup; but, in the milder and more general form, the following abridgment will, in all probability, be all that will be required:--First, the hot bath; second, the emetic; third, a mustard plaster round the throat for five minutes; fourth, the powders; fifth, another emetic in six hours, if needed, and the powders continued without intermission while the urgency of the symptoms continues. When relief has been obtained, these are to be discontinued, and a dose of senna tea given to act on the bowels. Diarrhoea. 2574. The diarrhoea with which children are so frequently affected, especially in infancy, should demand the nurse's immediate attention, and when the secretion, from its clayey colour, indicates an absence of bile, a powder composed of 3 grains of grey powder and 1 grain of rhubarb, should be given twice, with an interval of four hours between each dose, to a child from one to two years, and, a day or two afterwards, an aperient powder containing the same ingredients and quantities, with the addition of 2 or 3 grains of scammony. For the relaxation consequent on an overloaded stomach, or acidity in the bowels, a little magnesia dissolved in milk should be employed two or three times a day. 2575. When much griping and pain attend the diarrhoea, half a teaspoonful of Dalby's Carminative (the best of all patent medicines) should be given, either with or without a small quantity of castor oil to carry off the exciting cause. 2576. For any form of diarrhoea that, by excessive action, demands a speedy correction, the most efficacious remedy that can be employed in all ages and conditions of childhood is the tincture of Kino, of which from 10 to 30 drops, mixed with a little sugar and water in a spoon, are to be given every two or three hours till the undue action has been checked. Often the change of diet to rice, milk, eggs, or the substitution of animal for vegetable food, or _vice versa_, will correct an unpleasant and almost chronic state of diarrhoea. 2577. A very excellent carminative powder for flatulent infants may be kept in the house, and employed with advantage, whenever the child is in pain or griped, by dropping 5 grains of oil of aniseed and 2 of peppermint on half an ounce of lump sugar, and rubbing it in a mortar, with a drachm of magnesia, into a fine powder. A small quantity of this may be given in a little water at any time, and always with benefit. THE DOCTOR. CHAPTER XLIII. 2578. "Time," according to the old proverb, "is money;" and it may also, in many cases, and with equal truthfulness, be said to be life; for a few moments, in great emergencies, often turn the balance between recovery and death. This applies more especially to all kinds of poisoning, fits, submersion in water, or exposure to noxious gases; and many accidents. If people knew how to act during the interval that must necessarily elapse from the moment that a medical man is sent for until he arrives, many lives might be saved, which now, unhappily, are lost. Generally speaking, however, nothing is done--all is confusion and fright; and the surgeon, on his arrival, finds that death has already seized its victim, who, had his friends but known a few rough rules for their guidance, might have been rescued. We shall, therefore, in a series of papers, give such information as to the means to be employed in event of accidents, injuries, &c., as, by the aid of a gentleman of large professional experience, we are warranted in recommending. List of Drugs, &c., necessary to carry out all Instructions. 2579. We append at once A LIST OF DRUGS, &c., and a few PRESCRIPTIONS necessary to carry out all the instructions given in this series of articles. It will be seen that they are few--they are not expensive; and by laying in a little stock of them, our instructions will be of instant value in all cases of accident, &c.--The drugs are--Antimonial Wine. Antimonial Powder. Blister Compound. Blue Pill. Calomel. Carbonate of Potash. Compound Iron Pills. Compound Extract of Colocynth. Compound Tincture of Camphor. Epsom Salts. Goulard's Extract. Jalap in Powder. Linseed Oil. Myrrh and Aloes Pills. Nitre. Oil of Turpentine. Opium, powdered, and Laudanum. Sal Ammoniac. Senna Leaves. Soap Liniment, Opodeldoc. Sweet Spirits of Nitre. Turner's Cerate.--To which should be added: Common Adhesive Plaster. Isinglass Plaster. Lint. A pair of small Scales with Weights. An ounce and a drachm Measure-glass. A Lancet. A Probe. A pair of Forceps, and some curved Needles. 2580. The following PRESCRIPTIONS may be made up for a few shillings; and, by keeping them properly labelled, and by referring to the remarks on the treatment of any particular case, much suffering, and, perhaps, some lives, may be saved. 2581. _Draught_.--Twenty grains of sulphate of zinc in an ounce and a half of water. This draught is to be repeated in a quarter of an hour if vomiting does not take place. 2582. _Clyster_.--Two tablespoonfuls of oil of turpentine in a pint of warm gruel. 2583. _Liniments_.--1. Equal parts of lime-water and linseed-oil well mixed together. [Lime-water is made thus: Pour 6 pints of boiling water upon 1/4 lb. of lime; mix well together, and when cool, strain the liquid from off the lime which has fallen to the bottom, taking care to get it as clear as possible.] 2. Compound camphor liniment. 2584. _Lotions_.--1. Mix a dessert-spoonful of Goulard's extract and 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar in a pint of water.--2. Mix 1/2 oz. of sal-ammoniac, 2 tablespoonfuls of vinegar, and the same quantity of gin or whisky, in half a pint of water. 2585. _Goulard Lotion_.--1 drachm of sugar of lead, 2 pints of rain-water, 2 teaspoonfuls of spirits of wine. For inflammation of the eyes or elsewhere:--The better way of making Goulard Lotion, if for the eyes, is to add to 6 oz. of distilled water, or water that has been well boiled, 1 drachm of the extract of lead. 2586. _Opodeldoc_.--This lotion being a valuable application for sprains, lumbago, weakness of joints, &c., and it being difficult to procure either pure or freshly made, we give a recipe for its preparation. Dissolve 1 oz. of camphor in a pint of rectified spirits of wine; then dissolve 4 oz. of hard white Spanish soap, scraped thin, in 4 oz. of oil of rosemary, and mix them together. 2587. _The Common Black Draught_.--Infusion of senna 10 drachms; Epsom salts 10 drachms; tincture of senna, compound tincture of cardamums, compound spirit of lavender, of each 1 drachm. Families who make black draught in quantity, and wish to preserve it for some time without spoiling, should add about 2 drachms of spirits of hartshorn to each pint of the strained mixture, the use of this drug being to prevent its becoming mouldy or decomposed. A simpler and equally efficacious form of black draught is made by infusing 1/2 oz. of Alexandrian senna, 3 oz. of Epsom salts, and 2 drachms of bruised ginger and coriander-seeds, for several hours in a pint of boiling water, straining the liquor, and adding either 2 drachms of sal-volatile or spirits of hartshorn to the whole, and giving 3 tablespoonfuls for a dose to an adult. 2588. _Mixtures_--1. _Aperient_.--Dissolve an ounce of Epsom salts in half a pint of senna tea: take a quarter of the mixture as a dose, and repeat it in three or four hours if necessary. 2589. 2. _Fever Mixture_.--Mix a drachm of powdered nitre, 2 drachms of carbonate of potash, 2 teaspoonfuls of antimonial wine, and a tablespoonful of sweet spirits of nitre, in half a pint of water. 2590. 3. _Myrrh and Aloes Pills_.--Ten grains made into two pills are the dose for a full-grown person. 2591. 4. _Compound Iron Pills_.--Dose for a full-grown person: 10 grains made into two pills. 2592. _Pills_.--1. Mix 5 grains of calomel and the same quantity of antimonial powder with a little bread-crumb, and make into two pills. Dose for a full-grown person: two pills.--2. Mix 5 grains of blue pill and the same quantity of compound extract of colocynth together, and make into two pills, the dose for a full-grown person. 2593. _Powders_.--Mix a grain of calomel and 4 grains of powdered jalap together. 2594. In all cases, the dose of medicines given is to be regulated by the age of the patient. 2595. _Abernethy's Plan for making a Bread-and-Water Poultice_.--First scald out a basin; then having put in some boiling water, throw in coarsely-crumbled bread, and cover it with a plate. When the bread has soaked up as much water as it will imbibe, drain off the remaining water, and there will be left a light pulp. Spread it a third of an inch thick on folded linen, and apply it when of the temperature of a warm bath. To preserve it moist, occasionally drop warm water on it. 2596. _Linseed-Meal Poultice_.--"Scald your basin, by pouring a little hot water into it; then put a small quantity of finely-ground linseed-meal into the basin, pour a little hot water on it, and stir it round briskly until you have well incorporated them; add a little more meal and a little more water; then stir it again. Do not let any lumps remain in the basin, but stir the poultice well, and do not be sparing of your trouble. What you do next, is to take as much of it out of the basin as you may require, lay it on a piece of soft linen, and let it be about a quarter of an inch thick."--_Abernethy_. 2597. _Mustard Poultice_.--Mix equal parts of dry mustard and linseed-meal in warm vinegar. When the poultice is wanted weak, warm water may be used for the vinegar; and when it is required very strong, mustard alone, without any linseed-meal, is to be mixed with warm vinegar. 2598. _An ordinary Blister_.--Spread a little blister compound on a piece of common adhesive plaster with the right thumb. It should be put on just thickly enough to conceal the appearance of the plaster beneath. The part from which a blister has been taken should be covered till it heals over with soft linen rags smeared with lard. Baths and Fomentations. 2599. All fluid applications to the body are exhibited either in a hot or cold form; and the object for which they are administered is to produce a stimulating effect over the entire, or a part, of the system; for the effect, though differently obtained, and varying in degree, is the same in principle, whether procured by hot or cold water. 2600. _Heat_.--There are three forms in which heat is universally applied to the body,--that of the tepid, warm, and vapour bath; but as the first is too inert to be worth notice, and the last dangerous and inapplicable, except in public institutions, we shall confine our remarks to the really efficacious and always attainable one--the 2601. _Warm and Hot Bath_.--These baths are used whenever there is congestion, or accumulation of blood in the internal organs, causing pain, difficulty of breathing, or stupor, and are employed, by their stimulating property, to cause a rush of blood to the surface, and, by unloading the great organs, produce a temporary inflammation in the skin, and so equalize the circulation. The effect of the hot bath is to increase the fulness of the pulse, accelerate respiration, and excite perspiration. In all inflammations of the stomach and bowels, the hot bath is of the utmost consequence; the temperature of the warm bath varies from 92° to 100°, and may be obtained by those who have no thermometer to test the exact heat, by mixing one measure of boiling with two of cold water. 2602. _Fomentations_ are generally used to effect, in a part, the benefit produced on the whole body by the bath; to which a sedative action is occasionally given by the use of roots, herbs, or other ingredients; the object being to relieve the internal organ, as the throat, or muscles round a joint, by exciting a greater flow of blood to the skin _over_ the affected part. As the real agent of relief is heat, the fomentation should always be as hot as it can comfortably be borne, and, to insure effect, should be repeated every half-hour. Warm fluids are applied in order to render the swelling which accompanies inflammation less painful, by the greater readiness with which the skin yields, than when it is harsh and dry. They are of various kinds; but the most simple, and oftentimes the most useful, that can be employed, is "Warm Water." Another kind of fomentation is composed of dried poppyheads, 4 oz. Break them to pieces, empty out the seeds, put them into 4 pints of water, boil for a quarter of an hour, then strain through a cloth or sieve, and keep the water for use. Or, chamomile flowers, hemlock, and many other plants, may be boiled, and the part fomented with the hot liquor, by means of flannels wetted with the decoction. 2603. _Cold_, when applied in excess to the body, drives the blood from the surface to the centre, reduces the pulse, makes the breathing hard and difficult, produces coma, and, if long continued, death. But when medicinally used, it excites a reaction on the surface equivalent to a stimulating effect; as in some cases of fever, when the body has been sponged with cold water, it excites, by reaction, increased circulation on the skin. Cold is sometimes used to keep up a repellent action, as, when local inflammation takes place, a remedy is applied, which, by its benumbing and astringent effect, causes the blood, or the excess of it in the part, to recede, and, by contracting the vessels, prevents the return of any undue quantity, till the affected part recovers its tone. Such remedies are called _Lotions_, and should, when used, be applied with the same persistency as the fomentation; for, as the latter should be renewed as often as the heat passes off, so the former should be applied as often as the heat from the skin deprives the application of its cold. 2604. _Poultices_ are only another form of fomentation, though chiefly used for abscesses. The ingredient best suited for a poultice is that which retains heat the longest; of these ingredients, the best are linseed--meal, bran, and bread. Bran sewed into a bag, as it can be reheated, will be found the cleanest and most useful; especially for sore throats. How to Bleed. 2605. In cases of great emergency, such as the strong kind of apoplexy, and when a surgeon cannot possibly be obtained for some considerable time, the life of the patient depends almost entirely upon the fact of his being bled or not. We therefore give instructions how the operation of bleeding is to be performed, but caution the reader only to attempt it in cases of the greatest emergency. Place a handkerchief or piece of tape rather but not too tightly round the arm, about three or four inches above the elbow. This will cause the veins below to swell and become very evident. If this is not sufficient, the hand should be constantly and quickly opened and shut for the same purpose. There will now be seen, passing up the middle of the fore-arm, a vein which, just below the bend of the elbow, sends a branch inwards and outwards, each branch shortly joining another large vein. It is from the _outer_ branch--that the person is to be bled. The right arm is the one mostly operated on. The operator should take the lancet in his right hand, between the thumb and first finger, place the thumb of his left hand on the vein below the part where he is going to bleed from, and then gently thrust the tip of the lancet into the vein, and, taking care not to push it too deeply, cut in a gently curved direction, thus and bring it out, point upwards, at about half an inch from the part of the vein into which he had thrust it. The vein must be cut lengthways, and not across. When sufficient blood has been taken away, remove the bandage from above the elbow, and place the thumb of the left hand firmly over the cut, until all the bleeding ceases. A small pad of lint is then to be put over the cut, with a larger pad over it, and the two kept in their places by means of a handkerchief or linen roller bound pretty tightly over them and round the arm. 2606. When a person is bled, he should always be in the standing, or at any rate in the sitting, position; for if, as is often the case, he should happen to faint, he can, in, most eases at least, easily be brought to again by the operator placing him flat on his back, and stopping the bleeding. _This is of the greatest importance._ It has been recommended, for what supposed advantages we don't know, to bleed people when they are lying down. Should a person, under these circumstances, faint, what could be done to bring him to again? The great treatment of lowering the body of the patient to the flat position cannot be followed here. It is in that position already, and cannot be placed lower than it at present is--except, as is most likely to be the case, under the ground. 2607. BLEEDING FROM THE NOSE.--Many children, especially those of a sanguineous temperament, are subject to sudden discharges of blood from some part of the body; and as all such fluxes are in general the result of an effort of nature to relieve the system from some overload or pressure, such discharges, unless in excess, and when likely to produce debility, should not be rashly or too abruptly checked. In general, these discharges are confined to the summer or spring months of the year, and follow pains in the head, a sense of drowsiness, languor, or oppression; and, as such symptoms are relieved by the loss of blood, the hemorrhage should, to a certain extent, be encouraged. When, however, the bleeding is excessive, or returns too frequently, it becomes necessary to apply means to subdue or mitigate the amount. For this purpose the sudden and unexpected application of cold is itself sufficient, in most cases, to arrest the most active hemorrhage. A wet towel laid suddenly on the back, between the shoulders, and placing the child in a recumbent posture, is often sufficient to effect the object; where, however, the effusion resists such simple means, napkins wrung out of cold water must be laid across the forehead and nose, the hands dipped in cold water, and a bottle of hot water applied to the feet. If, in spite of these means, the bleeding continues, a little fine wool or a few folds of lint, tied together by a piece of thread, must be pushed up the nostril from which the blood flows, to act as a plug and pressure on the bleeding vessel. When the discharge has entirely ceased, the plug is to be pulled out by means of the thread. To prevent a repetition of the hemorrhage, the body should be sponged every morning with cold water, and the child put under a course of steel wine, have open-air exercise, and, if possible, salt-water bathing. For children, a key suddenly dropped down the back between the skin and clothes, will often immediately arrest a copious bleeding. 2608. SPITTING OF BLOOD, or hemorrhage from the lungs, is generally known from blood from the stomach by its being of a brighter colour, and in less quantities than that, which is always grumous and mixed with the half-digested food. In either case, rest should be immediately enjoined, total abstinence from stimulants, and a low, poor diet, accompanied with the horizontal position, and bottles of boiling water to the feet. At the same time the patient should suck through a quill, every hour, half a wine-glass of water in which 10 or 15 drops of the elixir of vitriol has been mixed, and, till further advice has been procured, keep a towel wrung out of cold water on the chest or stomach, according to the seat of the hemorrhage. Bites and Stings. 2609. BITES AND STINGS may be divided into three kinds:--1. Those of Insects. 2. Those of Snakes. 3. Those of Dogs and other Animals. 2610. 1. _The Bites or Stings of Insects_, such as gnats, bees, wasps, &c., need cause very little alarm, and are, generally speaking, easily cured. They are very serious, however, when they take place on some delicate part of the body, such as near the eye, or in the throat. _The treatment_ is very simple in most cases; and consists in taking out the sting, if it is left behind, with a needle, and applying to the part a liniment made of finely-scraped chalk and olive-oil, mixed together to about the thickness of cream. 2611. Bathing the part bitten with warm turpentine or warm vinegar is also of great use. If the person feels faint, he should lie quietly on his back, and take a little brandy-and-water, or sal-volatile and water. When the inside of the throat is the part stung, there is great danger of violent inflammation taking place. In this case, from eight to twelve leeches should be immediately put to the outside of the throat, and when they drop off, the part to which they had been applied should be well fomented with warm water. The inside of the throat is to be constantly gargled with salt and water. Bits of ice are to be sucked. Rubbing the face and hands well over with plain olive-oil, before going to bed, will often keep gnats and musquitoes from biting during the night. Strong scent, such as eau-de-Cologne, will have the same effect. 2612. 2. _Bites of Snakes_.--These are much more dangerous than the preceding, and require more powerful remedies. The bites of the different kinds of snakes do not all act alike, but affect people in different ways.--_Treatment of the part bitten_. The great thing is to prevent the poison getting into the blood; and, if possible, to remove the whole of it at once from the body. A pocket-handkerchief, a piece of tape or cord, or, in fact, of anything that is at hand, should be tied tightly round the part of the body bitten; if it be the leg or arm, immediately _above_ the bite, and between it and the heart. The bite should then be sucked several times by any one who is near. There is no danger in this, provided the person who does it has not got the skin taken off any part of his mouth. What has been sucked into the mouth should be immediately spit out again. But if those who are near have sufficient nerve for the operation, and a suitable instrument, they should cut out the central part bitten, and then bathe the wound for some time with warm water, to make it bleed freely. The wound should afterwards be rubbed with a stick of lunar caustic, or, what is better, a solution of this--60 grains of lunar caustic dissolved in an ounce of water--should be dropped into it. The band should be kept on the part during the whole of the time that these means are being adopted. The wound should afterwards be covered with lint dipped in cold water. The best plan, however, to be adopted, if it can be managed, is the following:--take a common wine-glass, and, holding it upside down, put a lighted candle or a spirit-lamp into it for a minute or two. This will take out the air. Then clap the glass suddenly over the bitten part, and it will become attached, and hold on to the flesh. The glass being nearly empty, the blood containing the poison will, in consequence, flow into it from the wound of its own accord. This process should be repeated three or four times, and the wound sucked, or washed with warm water, before each application of the glass. As a matter of course, when the glass is removed, all the blood should be washed out of it before it is applied again.--_Constitutional Treatment_. There is mostly at first great depression of strength in these cases, and it is therefore requisite to give some stimulant; a glass of hot brandy-and-water, or twenty drops of sal-volatile, is the best that can be given. When the strength has returned, and if the patient has not already been sick, a little mustard in hot water should be given, to make him so. If, on the other hand, as is often the case, the vomiting is excessive, a large mustard poultice should be placed over the stomach, and a grain of solid opium swallowed in the form of a pill, for the purpose of stopping it. Only one of these pills should be given by a non-professional person. In all cases of bites from snakes, send for a surgeon as quickly as possible, and act according to the above directions until he arrives. If he is within any reasonable distance, content yourself by putting on the band, sucking the wound, applying the glass, and, if necessary, giving a little brandy-and-water. 2613. 3. _Bites of Dogs_.--For obvious reasons, these kinds of bites are more frequently met with than those of snakes. _The treatment_ is the same as that for snake-bites, more especially that of the bitten part. The majority of writers on the subject are in favour of keeping the wound open as long as possible. This may be done by putting a few beans on it, and then by applying a large linseed-meal poultice over them. Injuries and Accidents to Bones. 2614. _Dislocation of Bones_.--When the end of a bone is pushed out of its natural position, it is said to be dislocated. This may be caused by violence, disease, or natural weakness of the parts about a joint.--_Symptoms_. Deformity about the joint, with unnatural prominence at one part, and depression at another. The limb may be shorter or longer than usual, and is stiff and unable to be moved, differing in these last two respects from a broken limb, which is mostly shorter, never longer, than usual, and which is always more movable.--_Treatment_. So much practical science and tact are requisite in order to bring a dislocated bone into its proper position again, that we strongly advise the reader never to interfere in these cases; unless, indeed, it is altogether impossible to obtain the services of a surgeon. But because any one of us may very possibly be placed in that emergency, we give a few rough rules for the reader's guidance. In the first place make the joint, from which the bone has been displaced, perfectly steady, either by fixing it to some firm object or else by holding it with the hands; then pull the dislocated bone in a direction towards the place from which it has been thrust, so that, if it moves at all from its unnatural position, it may have the best chance of returning to its proper place. Do not, however, pull or press against the parts too violently, as you may, perhaps, by doing so, rupture blood-vessels, and produce most serious consequences. When you _do_ attempt to reduce a dislocated bone, do it as quickly as possible after the accident has taken place, every hour making the operation more difficult. When the patient is very strong, he may be put into a warm bath until he feels faint, or have sixty drops of antimonial wine given him every ten minutes until he feels sickish. These two means are of great use in relaxing the muscles. If the bone has been brought back again to its proper place, keep it there by means of bandages; and if there is much pain about the joint, apply a cold lotion to it, and keep it perfectly at rest. The lotion should be, a dessert-spoonful of Goulard's extract, and two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, mixed in a pint of water. Leeches are sometimes necessary. Unless the local pain, or general feverish symptoms, are great, the patient's diet should be the same as usual. Dislocations may be reduced a week, or even a fortnight, after they have taken place. As, therefore, although the sooner a bone is reduced the better, there is no very great emergency, and as the most serious consequences may follow improper or too violent treatment, it is always better for people in these cases to do too little than too much; inasmuch as the good which has not yet may still be done, whereas the evil that _has_ been done cannot so easily be undone. 2615. FRACTURES OF BONES.--_Symptoms_. 1. Deformity of the part. 2. Unnatural looseness. 3. A grating sound when the two ends of the broken bone are rubbed together. 4. Loss of natural motion and power. In some cases there is also shortening of the limb.--Fracture takes place from several causes, as a fall, a blow, a squeeze, and sometimes from the violent action of muscles.--_Treatment_. In cases where a surgeon cannot be procured immediately after the accident, the following general rules are offered for the reader's guidance:--The broken limb should be placed and kept as nearly as possible in its natural position. This is to be done by first pulling the two portions of the bone in opposite directions, until the limb becomes as long as the opposite one, and then by applying a splint, and binding it to the part by means of a roller. When there is no deformity, the pulling is of course unnecessary. If there is much swelling about the broken part, a cold lotion is to be applied. This lotion (_which we will call Lotion No. 1_) may be thus made:--Mix a dessert-spoonful of Goulard's extract and two tablespoonfuls of vinegar in a pint of water. When the leg or arm is broken, always, if possible, get it to the same length and form as the opposite limb. The broken part should be kept perfectly quiet. When a broken limb is deformed, and a particular muscle is on the stretch, place the limb in such a position as will relax it. This will in most cases cure the deformity. Brandy-and-water, or sal-volatile and water, are to be given when the patient is faint. Surgical aid should, of course, be procured as soon as possible. 2616. JOINTS, INJURIES TO.--All kinds of injuries to joints, of whatever description, require particular attention, in consequence of the violent inflammations which are so liable to take place in these parts of the body, and which do so much mischief in a little time. The joint injured should always be kept perfectly at rest; and when it is very painful, and the skin about it red, swollen, hot, and shining, at the same time that the patient has general feverish symptoms, such as great thirst and headache--leeches, and when they drop off, warm poppy fomentations, are to be applied; the No. 1 pills above-mentioned are to be given (two are a dose for a grown person) with a black draught three hours afterwards. Give also two tablespoonfuls of the fever-mixture every four hours, and keep the patient on low diet. When the injury and swelling are not very great, warm applications, with rest, low diet, and a dose of aperient medicine, will be sufficient. When a joint has received a penetrating wound, it will require the most powerful treatment, and can only be properly attended to by a surgeon. The patient's friends will have to use their own judgment to a great extent in these and in many other cases, as to when leeches, fever-mixture, &c., are necessary. A universal rule, however, without a single exception, _is always to rest a joint well_ after it has been injured in any way whatever, to purge the patient, and to keep him on low diet, without beer, unless he has been a very great drinker indeed, in which case he may still be allowed to take a little; for if the stimulant that a person has been accustomed to in excess be all taken away at once, he is very likely to have an attack of delirium tremens. The quantity given should not, however, be much--say a pint, or, at the most, a pint and a half a day. Rubbing the joint with opodeldoc, or the application of a blister to it, is of great service in taking away the thickenings, which often remain after all heat, pain, and redness have left an injured joint. Great care should be observed in not using a joint too quickly after it has been injured. When the shoulder-joint is the one injured, the arm should be bound tightly to the body by means of a linen or flannel roller, and the elbow raised; when the elbow, it should be kept raised in the straight position, on a pillow; when the wrist, it should be raised on the chest, and suspended in a sling; when the knee, it should be kept in the straight position; and, lastly, when the ankle, it should be a little raised on a pillow. 2617. BRUISES, LACERATIONS, AND CUTS.--Wherever the bruise may be, or however swollen or discoloured the skin may become, two or three applications of the _extract of lead_, kept to the part by means of lint, will, in an hour or little more, remove all pain, swelling, and tenderness. Simple or clean cuts only require the edges of the wound to be placed in their exact situation, drawn close together, and secured there by one or two slips of adhesive plaster. When the wound, however, is jagged, or the flesh or cuticle lacerated, the parts are to be laid as smooth and regular as possible, and a piece of lint, wetted in the _extract of lead_, laid upon the wound, and a piece of greased lint placed above it to prevent the dressing sticking; the whole covered over to protect from injury, and the part dressed in the same manner once a day till the cure is effected. 2618. BRUISES AND THEIR TREATMENT.--The best application for a bruise, be it large or small, is moist warmth; therefore, a warm bread-and-water poultice in hot moist flannels should be put on, as they supple the skin. If the bruise be very severe, and in the neighbourhood of a joint, it will be well to apply ten or a dozen leeches over the whole bruised part, and afterwards a poultice. But leeches should not be put on young children. If the bruised part be the knee or the ankle, walking should not be attempted till it can be performed without pain. Inattention to this point often lays the foundation for serious mischief in these joints, especially in the case of scrofulous persons. In all conditions of bruises occurring in children, whether swellings or abrasions, no remedy is so quick or certain of effecting a cure as the pure extract of lead applied to the part. Burns and Scalds. 2619. BURNS AND SCALDS being essentially the same in all particulars, and differing only in the manner of their production, may be spoken of together. As a general rule, scalds are less severe than burns, because the heat of water, by which scalds are mostly produced, is not, even when it is boiling, so intense as that of flame; oil, however, and other liquids, whose boiling-point is high, produce scalds of a very severe nature. Burns and scalds have been divided into three classes. The first class comprises those where the burn is altogether superficial, and merely reddens the skin; the second, where the injury is greater, and we get little bladders containing a fluid (called serum) dotted over the affected part; in the third class we get, in the case of burns, a charring, and in that of scalds, a softening or pulpiness, perhaps a complete and immediate separation of the part. This may occur at once, or in the course of a little time. The pain from the second kind of burns is much more severe than that in the other two, although the danger, as a general rule, is less than it is in the third class. These injuries are much more dangerous when they take place on the trunk than when they happen on the arms or legs. The danger arises more from the extent of surface that is burnt than from the depth to which the burn goes. This rule, of course, has certain exceptions; because a small burn on the chest or belly penetrating deeply is more dangerous than a more extensive but superficial one on the arm or leg. When a person's clothes are in flames, the best way of extinguishing them is to wind a rug, or some thick material, tightly round the whole of the body. 2620. _Treatment of the First Class of Burns and Scalds_.--_Of the part affected_.--Cover it immediately with a good coating of common flour, or cotton-wool with flour dredged well into it. The great thing is to keep the affected surface of the skin from the contact of the air. The part will shortly get well, and the skin may or may not peel off.--_Constitutional Treatment_. If the burn or scald is not extensive, and there is no prostration of strength, this is very simple, and consists in simply giving a little aperient medicine--pills (No. 2), as follows:--Mix 5 grains of blue pill and the same quantity of compound extract of colocynth, and make into two pills--the dose for a full-grown person. Three hours after the pills give a black draught. If there are general symptoms of fever, such as hot skin, thirst, headache, &c. &c., two tablespoonfuls of fever-mixture are to be given every four hours. The fever-mixture, we remind our readers, is made thus:-Mix a drachm of powdered nitro, 2 drachms of carbonate of potash, 2 teaspoonfuls of antimonial wine, and a tablespoonful of sweet spirits of nitro, in half a pint of water. 2621. _Second Class. Local Treatment_.--As the symptoms of these kinds of burns are more severe than those of the first class, so the remedies appropriate to them are more powerful. Having, as carefully as possible, removed the clothes from the burnt surface, and taking care not to break the bladders, spread the following liniment (No. 1) on a piece of linen or lint--not the _fluffy_ side--and apply it to the part: the liniment should be equal parts of lime-water and linseed-oil, well mixed. If the burn is on the trunk of the body, it is better to use a warm linseed-meal poultice. After a few days dress the wound with Turner's cerate. If the burn is at the bend of the elbow, place the arm in the _straight_ position; for if it is _bent_, the skin, when healed, will be contracted, and the arm, in all probability, always remain in the same un natural position. This, indeed, applies to all parts of the body; therefore, always place the part affected in the most _stretched_ position possible.--_Constitutional Treatment_. The same kind of treatment is to be used as for the first class, only it must be more powerful. Stimulants are move often necessary, but must be given with great caution. If, as is often the case, there is great irritability and restlessness, a dose of opium (paregoric, in doses of from sixty to a hundred drops, according to age, is best) is of great service. The feverish symptoms will require aperient medicines and the fever mixture. A drink made of about a tablespoonful of cream of tartar and a little lemon-juice, in a quart of warm water, allowed to cool, is a very nice one in these cases. The diet throughout should not be too low, especially if there is much discharge from the wound. After a few days it is often necessary to give wine, ammonia, and strong beef-tea. These should be had recourse to when the tongue gets dry and dark, and the pulse weak and frequent. If there should be, after the lapse of a week or two, pain over one particular part of the belly, a blister should be put on it, and a powder of mercury and chalk-grey powder, and Dover's powder (two grains of the former and five of the latter) given three times a day. Affections of the head and chest also frequently occur as a consequence of these kinds of burns, but no one who is not a medical man can treat them. 2622. _Third Class_.--These are so severe as to make it impossible for a non-professional person to be of much service in attending to them. When they occur, a surgeon should always be sent for. Until he arrives, however, the following treatment should be adopted:--Place the patient full-length on his back, and keep him warm. Apply fomentations of flannels wrung out of boiling water and sprinkled with spirits of turpentine to the part, and give wine and sal-volatile in such quantities as the prostration of strength requires; always bearing in mind the great fact that you have to steer between two quicksands--death from present prostration and death from future excitement, which will always be increased in proportion to the amount of stimulants given. Give, therefore, only just as much as is absolutely necessary to keep life in the body. 2623. CONCUSSION OF BRAIN--STUNNING.--This may be caused by a blow or a fall.--_Symptoms_. Cold skin; weak pulse; almost total insensibility; slow, weak breathing; pupil of eye sometimes bigger, sometimes smaller, than natural; inability to move; unwillingness to answer when spoken to. These symptoms come on directly after the accident.--_Treatment_. Place the patient quietly on a warm bed, send for a surgeon, _and do nothing else for the first four or six hours_. After this time the skin will become hot, the pulse full, and the patient feverish altogether. If the surgeon has not arrived by the time these symptoms have set in, shave the patient's head, and apply the following lotion (No. 2): Mix half an ounce of sal-ammoniac, two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, and the same quantity of gin or whisky, in half a pint of water. Then give this pill (No. 1); Mix five grains of calomel and the same quantity of antimonial powder with a little bread-crumb, and make into two pills. Give a black draught three hours after the pill, and two tablespoonfuls of the above-mentioned fever-mixture every four hours. Keep on low diet. Leeches are sometimes to be applied to the head. These cases are often followed by violent inflammation of the brain. They can, therefore, only be attended to properly throughout by a surgeon. The great thing for people to do in these cases is--nothing; contenting themselves with putting the patient to bed, and waiting the arrival of a surgeon. 2624. THE CHOLERA AND AUTUMNAL COMPLAINTS.--To oppose cholera, there seems no surer or better means than cleanliness, sobriety, and judicious ventilation. Where there is dirt, that is the place for cholera; where windows and doors are kept most jealously shut, there cholera will find easiest entrance; and people who indulge in intemperate diet during the hot days of autumn are actually courting death. To repeat it, cleanliness, sobriety, and free ventilation almost always defy the pestilence; but, in case of attack, immediate recourse should be had to a physician. The faculty say that a large number of lives have been lost, in many seasons, solely from delay in seeking medical assistance. They even assert that, taken early, the cholera is by no means a fatal disorder. The copious use of salt is recommended on very excellent authority. Other autumnal complaints there are, of which diarrhoea is the worst example. They come on with pain, flatulence, sickness, with or without vomiting, followed by loss of appetite, general lassitude, and weakness. If attended to at the first appearance, they may soon be conquered; for which purpose it is necessary to assist nature in throwing off the contents of the bowels, which may be one by means of the following prescription:--Take of calomel 3 grains, rhubarb 8 grains; mix and take it in a little honey or jelly, and repeat the dose three times, at the intervals of four or five hours. The next purpose to be answered is the defence of the lining membrane of the intestines from their acrid contents, which will be best effected by drinking copiously of linseed tea, or of a drink made by pouring boiling water on quince-seeds, which are of a very mucilaginous nature; or, what is still better, full draughts of whey. If the complaint continue after these means have been employed, some astringent or binding medicine will be required, as the subjoined:--Take of prepared chalk 2 drachms, cinnamon-water 7 oz., syrup of poppies 1 oz.; mix, and take 3 tablespoonfuls every four hours. Should this fail to complete the cure, 1/2 oz. of tincture of catechu, or of kino, may be added to it, and then it will seldom fail; or a teaspoonful of the tincture of kino alone, with a little water, every three hours, till the diarrhoea is checked. While any symptoms of derangement are present, particular attention must be paid to the diet, which should be of a soothing, lubricating, and light nature, as instanced in veal or chicken broth, which should contain but little salt. Rice, batter, and bread puddings will be generally relished, and be eaten with advantage; but the stomach is too much impaired to digest food of a more solid nature. Indeed, we should give that organ, together with the bowels, as little trouble as possible, while they are so incapable of acting in their accustomed manner. Much mischief is frequently produced by the absurd practice of taking tincture of rhubarb, which is almost certain of aggravating that species of disorder of which we have now treated; for it is a spirit as strong as brandy, and cannot fail of producing harm upon a surface which is rendered tender by the formation and contact of vitiated bile. But our last advice is, upon the first appearance of such symptoms as are above detailed, have _immediate_ recourse to a doctor, where possible. 2625. TO CURE A COLD.--Put a large teacupful of linseed, with 1/4 lb. of sun raisins and 2 oz. of stick liquorice, into 2 quarts of soft water, and let it simmer over a slow fire till reduced to one quart; add to it 1/4 lb. of pounded sugar-candy, a tablespoonful of old rum, and a tablespoonful of the best white-wine vinegar, or lemon-juice. The rum and vinegar should be added as the decoction is taken; for, if they are put in at first, the whole soon becomes flat and less efficacious. The dose is half a pint, made warm, on going to bed; and a little may be taken whenever the cough is troublesome. The worst cold is generally cured by this remedy in two or three days; and, if taken in time, is considered infallible. 2626. COLD ON THE CHEST.--A flannel dipped in boiling water, and sprinkled with turpentine, laid on the chest as quickly as possible, will relieve the most severe cold or hoarseness. 2627. SUBSTANCES IN THE EYE.--To remove fine particles of gravel, lime, &c., the eye should be syringed with lukewarm water till free from them. Be particular not to worry the eye, under the impression that the substance is still there, which the enlargement of some of the minute vessels makes the patient believe is actually the case. 2628. SORE EYES.--Incorporate thoroughly, in a glass mortar or vessel, one part of strong citron ointment with three parts of spermaceti ointment. Use the mixture night and morning, by placing a piece of the size of a pea in the corner of the eye affected, only to be used in cases of chronic or long-standing inflammation of the organ, or its lids. 2629. LIME IN THE EYE.--Bathe the eye with a little weak vinegar-and-water, and carefully remove any little piece of lime which may be seen, with a feather. If any lime has got entangled in the eyelashes, carefully clear it away with a bit of soft linen soaked in vinegar-and-water. Violent inflammation is sure to follow; a smart purge must be therefore administered, and in all probability a blister must be applied on the temple, behind the ear, or nape of the neck. 2630. STYE IN THE EYE.--Styes are little abscesses which form between the roots of the eyelashes, and are rarely larger than a small pea. The best way to manage them is to bathe them frequently with warm water, or in warm poppy-water, if very painful. When they have burst, use an ointment composed of one part of citron ointment and four of spermaceti, well rubbed together, and smear along the edge of the eyelid. Give a grain or two of calomel with 5 or 8 grains of rhubarb, according to the age of the child, twice a week. The old-fashioned and apparently absurd practice of rubbing the stye with a ring, is as good and speedy a cure as that by any process of medicinal application; though the number of times it is rubbed, or the quality of the ring and direction of the strokes, has nothing to do with its success. The pressure and the friction excite the vessels of the part, and cause an absorption of the effused matter under the eyelash. The edge of the nail will answer as well as a ring. 2631. INFLAMMATION OF THE EYELIDS.--The following ointment has been found very beneficial in inflammations of the eyeball and edges of the eyelids:--Take of prepared calomel, 1 scruple; spermaceti ointment, 1/2 oz. Mix them well together in a glass mortar; apply a small quantity to each corner of the eye every night and morning, and also to the edges of the lids, if they are affected. If this should not eventually remove the inflammation, elder-flower water may be applied three or four times a day, by means of an eye-cup. The bowels should be kept in a laxative state, by taking occasionally a quarter of an ounce of the Cheltenham or Epsom salts. 2632. FASTING.--It is said by many able physicians that fasting is a means of removing incipient disease, and of restoring the body to its customary healthy sensations. Howard, the celebrated philanthropist (says a writer), used to fast one day in every week. Napoleon, when he felt his system unstrung, suspended his wonted repast, and took his exercise on horseback. Fits. 2633. Fits come on so suddenly, often without even the slightest warning, and may prove fatal so quickly, that all people should be acquainted at least with their leading symptoms and treatment, as a few moments, more or less, will often decide the question between life and death. The treatment, in very many cases at least, to be of the slightest use, should be _immediate_, as a person in a fit (of apoplexy for instance) may die while a surgeon is being fetched from only the next street. We shall give, as far as the fact of our editing a work for non-professional readers will permit, the peculiar and distinctive symptoms of all kind of fits, and the immediate treatment to be adopted in each case. 2634. APOPLEXY.--These fits may be divided into two kinds--the _strong_ and the _weak_. 2635. 1. _The strong kind_.--These cases mostly occur in stout, strong, short-necked, bloated-faced people, who are in the habit of living well.--_Symptoms_. The patient may or may not have had headache, sparks before his eyes, with confusion of ideas and giddiness, for a day or two before the attack. When it takes place, he falls down insensible; the body becomes paralyzed, generally more so on one side than the other; the face and head are hot, and the blood-vessels about them swollen; the pupils of the eyes are larger than natural, and the eyes themselves are fixed; the mouth is mostly drawn down at one corner; the breathing is like loud snoring; the pulse full and hard.--_Treatment_. Place the patient immediately in bed, with his head well raised; take off everything that he has round his neck, and bleed freely and at once from the arm. If you have not got a lancet, use a penknife or anything suitable that may be at hand. Apply warm mustard poultices to the soles of the feet and the insides of the thighs and legs; put two drops of castor oil, mixed up with eight grains of calomel, on the top of the tongue, as far back as possible; a most important part of the treatment being to open the bowels as quickly and freely as possible. The patient cannot swallow; but these medicines, especially the oil, will be absorbed into the stomach altogether independent of any voluntary action. If possible, throw up a warm turpentine clyster (two tablespoonfuls of oil of turpentine in a pint of warm gruel), or, if this cannot be obtained, one composed of about a quart of warm salt-and-water and soap. Cut off the hair, and apply rags dipped in weak vinegar-and-water, or weak gin-and-water, or even simple cold water, to the head. If the blood-vessels about the head and neck are much swollen, put from eight to ten leeches on the temple opposite to the paralyzed side of the body. Always send for a surgeon immediately, and act according to the above rules, doing more or less, according to the means at hand, and the length of time that must necessarily elapse until he arrives. A pint, or even a quart of blood in a very strong person, may be taken away. When the patient is able to swallow, give him the No. 1 pills, and the No. 1 mixture directly. [The No. 1 pills are made as follows:--Mix 5 grains of calomel and the same quantity of antimonial powder with a little bread-crumb: make into two pills, the dose for a full-grown person. For the No. 1 mixture, dissolve on ounce of Epsom salts in half a pint of senna tea: take a quarter of the mixture as a dose] Repeat these remedies if the bowels are not well opened. Keep the patient's head well raised, and cool as above. Give very low diet indeed: gruel, arrowroot, and the like. When a person is recovering, he should have blisters applied to the nape of the neck, his bowels should be kept well open, light diet given, and fatigue, worry, and excess of all kinds avoided. 2636. 2. _The weak kind_.--_Symptoms_. These attacks are more frequently preceded by warning symptoms than the first kind. The face is pale, the pulse weak, and the body, especially the hands and legs, cold. After a little while, these symptoms sometimes alter to those of the first class in a mild degree.--_Treatment._ At first, if the pulse is _very feeble indeed_, a little brandy-and-water or sal-volatile must be given. Mustard poultices are to be put, as before, to the soles of the foot and the insides of the thighs and legs. Warm bricks, or bottles filled with warm water, are also to be placed under the armpits. When the strength has returned, the body become warmer, and the pulse fuller and harder, the head should be shaved, and wet rags applied to it, as before described. Leeches should be put, as before, to the temple opposite the side paralyzed; and the bowels should be opened as freely and as quickly as possible. Bleeding from the arm is often necessary in these cases, but a non-professional person should never have recourse to it. Blisters may be applied to the nape of the neck at once. The diet in those cases should not be so low as in the former--indeed, it is often necessary, in a day or so after one of these attacks, to give wine, strong beef-tea, &c., according to the condition of the patient's strength. 2637. _Distinctions between Apoplexy and Epilepsy_.--1. Apoplexy mostly happens in people over _thirty_, whereas epilepsy generally occurs under that ago; at any rate for the first time. A person who has epileptic fits over thirty, has generally suffered from them for some years. 2. Again, _in apoplexy_, the body is paralyzed; and, therefore, has not _the convulsions which take place in epilepsy_. 3. The peculiar _snoring_ will also distinguish apoplexy from epilepsy. 2638. _Distinctions between Apoplexy and Drunkeness_.--1. The known habits of the person. 2. The fact of a person who was perfectly sober and sensible a little time before, being found in a state of insensibility. 3. The absence, in apoplexy, of the _smell of drink_ on applying the nose to the mouth. 4. A person in a fit of apoplexy cannot be roused at all; in drunkenness he mostly can, to a certain extent. 2639. _Distinction between Apoplexy and Hysteria_.--Hysterics mostly happen in young, nervous, unmarried women; and are attended with convulsions, sobbing, laughter, throwing about of the body, &c. &c. 2640. _Distinction between Apoplexy and Poisoning by Opium_.--It is exceedingly difficult to distinguish between these two cases. In poisoning by opium, however, we find the particular smell of the drug in the patient's breath. We should also, in forming our opinion, take into consideration the person's previous conduct--whether he has been low and desponding for some time before, or has ever talked about committing suicide. 2641. EPILEPSY.--_Falling Sickness_.--Those fits mostly happen, at any rate for the first time, to young people, and are more common in boys than girls. They are produced by numerous causes.--_Symptoms_. The fit may be preceded by pains in the head, palpitations, &c. &c.; but it mostly happens that the person falls down insensible suddenly, and without any warning whatever. The eyes are distorted, so that only their whites can be seen; there is mostly foaming from the mouth; the fingers are clinched; and the body, especially on one side, is much agitated; the tongue is often thrust out of the mouth. When the fit goes off, the patient feels drowsy and faint, and often sleeps soundly for some time.--_Treatment_. During the fit, keep the patient flat on his back, with his head slightly raised, and prevent him from doing any harm to himself; dash cold water into his face, and apply smelling-salts to his nose; loosen his shirt collar, &c.; hold a piece of wood about as thick as a finger--the handle of a tooth-brush or knife will do as well--between the two rows of teeth, at the back part of the mouth. This will prevent the tongue from being injured. A teaspoonful of common salt thrust into the patient's mouth, during the fit, is of much service. The after-treatment of these fits is various, and depends entirely upon their causes. A good general rule, however, is always to keep the bowels well open, and the patient quiet, and free from fatigue, worry, and excess of all kinds. 2642. _Fainting Fits_ are sometimes very dangerous, and at others perfectly harmless; the question of danger depending altogether upon the causes which have produced them, and which are exceedingly various. For instance, fainting produced by disease of the heart is a very serious symptom indeed; whereas, that arising from some slight cause, such as the sight of blood, &c., need cause no alarm whatever. The symptoms of simple fainting are so well known that it would be quite superfluous to enumerate them here. The _treatment_ consists in laying the patient at full length upon his back, with his head upon a level with the rest of his body, loosening everything about the neck, dashing cold water into the face, and sprinkling vinegar and water about the mouth; applying smelling-salts to the nose; and, when the patient is able to swallow, in giving a little warm brandy-and-water, or about 20 drops of sal-volatile in water. 2643. _Hysterics_.--These fits take place, for the most part, in young, nervous, unmarried women. They happen much less often in married women; and even (in some rare cases indeed) in men. Young women, who are subject to these fits, are apt to think that they are suffering from "all the ills that flesh is heir to;" and the false symptoms of disease which they show are so like the true ones, that it is often exceedingly difficult to detect the difference. The fits themselves are mostly preceded by great depression of spirits, shedding of tears, sickness, palpitation of the heart, &c. A pain, as if a nail were being driven in, is also often felt at one particular part of the head. In almost all cases, when a fit is coming on, pain is felt on the left side. This pain rises gradually until it reaches the throat, and then gives the patient a sensation as if she had a pellet there, which prevents her from breathing properly, and, in fact, seems to threaten actual suffocation. The patient now generally becomes insensible, and faints; the body is thrown about in all directions, froth issues from the mouth, incoherent expressions are uttered, and fits of laughter, crying, or screaming, take place. When the fit is going off, the patient mostly cries bitterly, sometimes knowing all, and at others nothing, of what has taken place, and feeling general soreness all over the body. _Treatment during the fit_. Place the body in the same position as for simple fainting, and treat, in other respects, as directed in the article on Epilepsy. _Always well loosen the patient's stays_; and, when she is recovering, and able to swallow, give 20 drops of sal volatile in a little water. The _after-treatment_ of these cases is very various. If the patient is of a strong constitution, she should live on plain diet, take plenty of exercise, and take occasional doses of castor oil, or an aperient mixture, such as that described as "No. 1," in previous numbers. If, as is mostly the case, the patient is weak and delicate, she will require a different mode of treatment altogether. Good nourishing diet, gentle exercise, cold baths, occasionally a dose of No. 3 myrrh and aloes pills at night, and a dose of compound iron pills twice a day. [As to the myrrh and aloes pills (No. 3), 10 grains made into two pills are a dose for a full-grown person. Of the compound iron pills (No. 4), the dose for a full grown person is also 10 grains, made into two pills.] In every case, amusing the mind, and avoiding all causes of over-excitement, are of great service in bringing about a permanent cure. 2644. LIVER COMPLAINT AND SPASMS.--A very obliging correspondent recommends the following, from personal experience:--Take 4 oz. of dried dandelion root, 1 oz. of the best ginger, 1/4 oz. of Columba root; braise and boil all together in 3 pints of water till it is reduced to a quart: strain, and take a wine-glassful every four hours. Our correspondent says it is a "safe and simple medicine for both liver complaint and spasms." 2645. LUMBAGO.--A "new and successful mode" of treating lumbago, advocated by Dr. Day, is a form of counter-irritation, said to have been introduced into this country by the late Sir Anthony Carlisle, and which consists in the instantaneous application of a flat iron button, gently heated in a spirit-lamp, to the skin. Dr. Corrigan published, about three years ago, an account of some cases very successfully treated by nearly similar means. Dr. Corrigan's plan was, however, to touch the surface of the part affected, at intervals of half an inch, as lightly and rapidly as possible. Dr. Day has found greater advantages to result from drawing the flat surface of the heated button lightly over the affected part, so as to act on a greater extent of surface. The doctor speaks so enthusiastically of the benefit to be derived from this practice, that it is evidently highly deserving attention. 2646. PALPITATION OF THE HEART.--Where palpitation occurs as symptomatic of indigestion, the treatment must be directed to remedy that disorder; when it is consequent on a plethoric state, purgatives will be effectual. In this case the patient should abstain from every kind of diet likely to produce a plethoric condition of body. Animal food and fermented liquor must be particularly avoided. Too much indulgence in sleep will also prove injurious. When the attacks arise from nervous irritability, the excitement must be allayed by change of air and a tonic diet. Should the palpitation originate from organic derangement, it must be, of course, beyond domestic management. Luxurious living, indolence, and tight-lacing often produce this affection: such cases are to be conquered with a little resolution. 2647. Poisons shall be the next subject for remark; and we anticipate more detailed instructions for the treatment of persons poisoned, by giving a simple LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL POISONS, with their ANTIDOTES OR REMEDIES. Oil of Vitriol ...............\ Aquafortis ................... Magnesia, Chalk, Soap-and-Water. Spirit of Salt .............../ Emetic Tartar................. Oily Drinks, Solution of Oak-bark. Salt of Lemons, or............ Chalk, Whiting, Lime or Magnesia and Acid of Sugar................. Water. Sometimes an Emetic Draught. Pump on back, Smelling-Salts to nose, Prussic Acid................... Artificial Breathing, Chloride of Lime to nose. Pearlash ......................\ Soap-Lees...................... \ Smelling-Salts................. \ Nitre.......................... Lemon-Juice and Vinegar-and-Water Hartshorn...................... / Sal-Volatile.................../ Arsenic........................\ Fly-Powder, or................. Emetics, Lime-Water, Soap-and-Water, White Arsenic.................. Sugar and Water, Oily Drinks. Kings Yellow, or............... / Yellow Arsenic................./ Mercury........................\ Corrosive Sublimate............ Whites of Eggs, Soap-and-Water. Calomel......................../ Opium.......................... Emetic Draught, Vinegar-and-Water, Laudanum....................... dashing Cold Water on chest and face, walking up and down two or three hours. Lead...........................\ White Lead..................... Epsom Salts, Castor Oil, Emetics. Sugar of Lead................../ Goulard's Extract............./ Copper Blue-stone .................... Whites of Eggs, Sugar-and-Water, Verdigris...................... Castor Oil, Gruel. Zinc .......................... Lime-Water, Chalk-and-Water, Soap-and-Water. Iron .......................... Magnesia, Warm Water. Henbane........................\ Hemlock........................ Emetics and Castor Oil; Nightshade..................... Brandy-and-Water, if necessary. Foxglove......................./ Poisonous Food................. Emetics and Castor Oil. 2648. The symptoms of poisoning may be known for the most part from those of some diseases, which they are very like, from the fact of their coming on _immediately_ after eating or drinking something; whereas those of disease come on, in most cases at least, by degrees, and with warnings. In most cases where poison is known, or suspected, to have been taken, the first thing to be done is to empty the stomach, well and immediately, by means of mustard mixed in warm water, or plain warm salt-and-water, or, better, this draught, which we call No. 1:--Twenty grains of sulphate of zinc in an ounce and a half of water. This draught to be repeated in a quarter of an hour if vomiting does not ensue. The back part of the throat should be well tickled with a feather, or two of the fingers thrust down it, to induce vomiting. The cases where vomiting must not be used are those where the skin has been taken off, and the parts touched irritated and inflamed by the poison taken, and where the action of vomiting would increase the evil. Full instructions are given in the article on each particular poison as to where emetics are or are not to be given. The best and safest way of emptying the stomach is by means of the stomach-pump, as in certain cases the action of vomiting is likely to increase the danger arising from the swollen and congested condition of the blood-vessels of the head, which often takes place. In the hands, however, of any one else than a surgeon, it would be not only useless, but harmful, as a great deal of dexterity, caution, and experience are required to use it properly. After having made these brief introductory remarks, we shall now proceed to particulars. 2649. _Sulphuric Acid, or Oil of Vitriol_ (a clear, colourless liquid, of an oily appearance).--_Symptoms in those who have swallowed it_. When much is taken, these come on immediately. There is great burning pain, extending from the mouth to the stomach; vomiting of a liquid of a dark coffee-colour, often mixed with shreds of flesh and streaks of blood; the skin inside the mouth is taken off; and the exposed surface is at first white, and after a time becomes brownish. There are sometimes spots of a brown colour round the lips and on the neck, caused by drops of the acid falling on these parts. There is great difficulty of breathing, owing to the swelling at the back part of the mouth. After a time there is much depression of strength, with a quick, weak pulse, and cold, clammy skin. The face is pale, and has a very anxious look. When the acid swallowed has been greatly diluted in water, the same kind of symptoms occur, only in a milder degree.--_Treatment_. Give a mixture of magnesia in milk-and-water, or, if this cannot be obtained, of finely powdered chalk, or whiting, or even of the plaster torn down from the walls or ceiling, in milk-and-water. The mixture should be nearly as thick as cream, and plenty of it given. As well as this, simple gruel, milk, or thick flour-and-water, are very useful, and should be given in large quantities. Violent inflammation of the parts touched by the acid is most likely to take place in the coarse of a little time, and can only be properly attended to by a surgeon; but if one cannot be obtained, leeches, the fever-mixtures (the recipe for which appears repeatedly in previous paragraphs), thick drinks, such as barley-water, gruel, arrowroot, &c., must be had recourse to, according to the symptoms of each particular case and the means at hand. The inflamed condition of the back part of the mouth requires particular attention. When the breathing is very laboured and difficult in consequence, from fifteen to twenty leeches are to be immediately applied to the outside of the throat, and when they drop off, warm poppy fomentations constantly kept to the part. When the pain over the stomach is very great, the same local treatment is necessary; but if it is only slight, a good mustard poultice will be sufficient without the leeches. In all these cases, two tablespoonfuls of the fever-mixture should be given every four hours, and only gruel or arrowroot allowed to be eaten for some days. 2650. _Nitric Acid_, commonly known as _Aqua Fortis_, or _Red Spirit of Nitre_ (a straw-coloured fluid, of the consistence of water, and which gives off dense white fumes on exposure to the air).--_Symptoms produced in those who have swallowed it._ Much the same as in the case of sulphuric acid. In this case, however, the surface touched by the acid becomes _yellowish_. The tongue is mostly much swollen.--_Treatment_. The same as for sulphuric acid. 2651. _Muriatic Acid, Spirit of Salt_ (a thin yellow fluid, emitting dense white fumes on exposure to the air).--This is not often taken as a poison. The _symptoms_ and _treatment_ are much the same as those of _nitric acid_. N.B.--_In no case of poisoning by these three acids should emetics ever be given_. 2652. _Oxalic Acid_, commonly called _Salt of Lemons_.--This poison may be taken by mistake for Epsom salts, which it is a good deal like. It may be distinguished from them by its very acid taste and its shape, which is that of needle-formed crystals, each of which, if put into a drop of ink, will turn it to a reddish brown, whereas Epsom salts will not change its colour at all. When a large dose of this poison has been taken, death takes place very quickly indeed.--_Symptoms produced in those who have swallowed it_. A hot, burning, acid taste is felt in the act of swallowing, and vomiting of a _greenish-brown_ fluid is produced, sooner or later, according to the quantity and strength of the poison taken. There is great tenderness felt over the stomach, followed by clammy perspirations and convulsions; the legs are often drawn up, and there is generally stupor, from which the patient, however, can easily be roused, and always great prostration of strength. The pulse is small and weak, and the breathing faint.--_Treatment_. Chalk or magnesia, made into a cream with water, should be given in large quantities, and afterwards the emetic draught above prescribed, or some mustard-and-water, if the draught cannot be got. The back part of the throat to be tickled with a feather, to induce vomiting. Arrowroot, gruel, and the like drinks, are to be taken. When the prostration of strength is very great and the body cold, warmth is to be applied to it, and a little brandy-and-water, or sal-volatile and water, given. 2653. _Prussic Acid_ (a thin, transparent, and colourless liquid, with a peculiar smell, which greatly resembles that of bitter almonds).--_Symptoms produced in those who have swallowed it_. These come on _immediately_ after the poison has been taken, and may be produced by merely _smelling_ it. The patient becomes perfectly insensible, and falls down in convulsions--his eyes are fixed and staring, the pupils being bigger than natural, the skin is cold and clammy, the pulse scarcely perceptible, and the breathing slow and gasping.--_Treatment_. Very little can be done in these cases, as death takes place so quickly after the poison has been swallowed, when it takes place at all. The best treatment--which should always be adopted in all cases, even though the patient appears quite dead-is to dash quantities of cold water on the back, from the top of the neck downwards. Placing the patient under a pump, and pumping on him, is the best way of doing this. Smelling-salts are also to be applied to the nose, and the chest well rubbed with a camphor liniment. 2654. ALKALIS: _Potash, Soda_, and _Ammonia_, or common _Smelling-Salts_, with their principal preparations--_Pearlash, Soap Lees, Liquor Potassae, Nitre, Sal Prunella, Hartshorn_, and _Sal--Volatile._--Alkalis are seldom taken or given with the view of destroying life. They may, however, be swallowed by mistake.--_Symptoms produced in those who have swallowed them_. There is at first a burning, acrid taste in, and a sensation of tightness round, the throat, like that of strangling; the skin touched is destroyed; retching mostly followed by actual vomiting, then sets in; the vomited matters often containing blood of a dark brown colour, with little shreds of flesh here and there, and always changing vegetable blue colours green. There is now great tenderness over the whole of the belly. After a little while, great weakness, with cold, clammy sweats, a quick weak pulse, and purging of bloody matters, takes place. The brain, too, mostly becomes affected.--_Treatment_. Give two tablespoonfuls of vinegar or lemon-juice in a glassful of water every few minutes until the burning sensation is relieved. Any kind of oil or milk may also be given, and will form soap when mixed with the poison in the stomach. Barley-water, gruel, arrowroot, linseed-tea, &c., are also very useful, and should be taken constantly, and in large quantities. If inflammation should take place, it is to be treated by applying leeches and warm poppy fomentations to the part where the pain is most felt, and giving two tablespoonfuls of the fever mixture every four hours. The diet in all these cases should only consist of arrowroot or gruel for the first few days, and then of weak broth or beef-tea for some time after. 2655. When very strong fumes of smelling-salts have in any way been inhaled, there is great difficulty of breathing, and alarming pain in the mouth and nostrils. In this case let the patient inhale the steam of warm vinegar, and treat the feverish symptoms as before. 2656. _Arsenic_.--Mostly seen under the form of white arsenic, or fly-powder, and yellow arsenic, or king's yellow.--_Symptoms produced in those who have swallowed it_. These vary very much, according to the form and dose in which the poison has been taken. There is faintness, depression, and sickness, with an intense burning pain in the region of the stomach, which gets worse and worse, and is increased by pressure. There is also vomiting of dark brown matter, sometimes mixed with blood; and mostly great thirst, with a feeling of tightness round, and of burning in, the throat. Purging also takes place, the matters brought away being mixed with blood. The pulse is small and irregular, and the skin sometimes cold and clammy, and at others hot. The breathing is painful. Convulsions and spasms often occur.--_Treatment_. Give a couple of teaspoonfuls of mustard in a glass of water, to bring on or assist vomiting, and also use the other means elsewhere recommended for the purpose. A solution, half of lime-water and half of linseed-oil, well mixed, may be given, as well as plenty of arrowroot, gruel, or linseed-tea. Simple milk is also useful. A little castor-oil should be given, to cleanse the intestines of all the poison, and the after-symptoms treated on general principles. 2657. _Corrosive Sublimate_.--Mostly seen in the form of little heavy crystalline masses, which melt in water, and have a metallic taste. It is sometimes seen in powder. This is a most powerful poison.--_Symptoms_. These mostly come on immediately after the poison has been taken. There is a coppery taste experienced in the act of swallowing, with a burning heat, extending from the top of the throat down to the stomach; and also a feeling of great tightness round the throat. In a few minutes great pain is felt over the region of the stomach, and frequent vomiting of long, stringy white masses, mixed with blood, takes place. There is also mostly great purging. The countenance is generally pale and anxious; the pulse always small and frequent; the skin cold and clammy, and the breathing difficult. Convulsions and insensibility often occur, and are very bad symptoms indeed. The inside of the mouth is more or less swollen.--_Treatment_. Mix the whites of a dozen eggs in two pints of cold water, and give a glassful of the mixture every three or four minutes, until the stomach can contain no more. If vomiting does not now come on naturally, and supposing the mouth is not very sore or much swollen, an emetic draught, No. 1, may be given, and vomiting induced. (The No. 1 draught, we remind our readers, is thus made:--Twenty grains of sulphate of zinc in an ounce and a half of water; the draught to be repeated if vomiting does not take place in a quarter of an hour.) After the stomach has been well cleaned out, milk, flour-and-water, linseed-tea, or barley-water, should be taken in large quantities. If eggs cannot be obtained, milk, or flour-and-water, should be given as a substitute for them at once. When the depression of strength is very great indeed, a little warm brandy-and-water must be given. In the course of an hour or two the patient should take two tablespoonfuls of castor-oil, and if inflammation comes on, it is to be treated as directed in the article on acids and alkalis. The diet should also be the same. If the patient recovers, great soreness of the gums is almost certain to take place. The simplest, and at the same time one of the best modes of treatment, is to wash them well three or four times a day with brandy-and-water. 2658. _Calomel_.--A heavy white powder, without taste, and insoluble in water. It has been occasionally known to destroy life.--_Symptoms_. Much the same as in the case of corrosive sublimate.--_Treatment_. The same as for corrosive sublimate. If the gums are sore, wash them, as recommended in the case of corrosive sublimate, with brandy-and-water three or four times a day, and keep the patient on _fluids_, such as arrowroot, gruel, broth, or beef-tea, according to the other symptoms. Eating hard substances would make the gums more sore and tender. 2659. _Copper_.--The preparations of this metal which are most likely to be the ones producing poisonous symptoms, are _blue-stone_ and _verdigris_. People are often taken ill after eating food that has been cooked in copper saucepans. When anything has been cooked in one of these vessels, _it should never be allowed to cool in it_.--_Symptoms_. Headache, pain in the stomach, and purging; vomiting of green or blue matters, convulsions, and spasms.--_Treatment_. Give whites of eggs, sugar-and-water, castor-oil, and drinks, such as arrowroot and gruel. 2660. _Emetic Tartar_.--Seen in the form of a white powder, or crystals, with a slightly metallic taste. It has not often been known to destroy life.--_Symptoms_. A strong metallic taste in the act of swallowing, followed by a burning pain in the region of the stomach, vomiting, and great purging. The pulse is small and rapid, the skin cold and clammy, the breathing difficult and painful, and the limbs often much cramped. There is also great prostration of strength.--_Treatment_. Promote the vomiting by giving plenty of warm water, or warm arrowroot and water. Strong tea, in large quantities, should be drunk; or, if it can be obtained, a decoction of oak bark. The after-treatment is the same as that for acids and alkalis; the principal object in all these cases being to keep down the inflammation of the parts touched by the poison by means of leeches, warm poppy fomentations, fever-mixtures, and very low diet. 2661. _Lead_, and its preparations, _Sugar of Lead, Goulard's Extract, White Lead._--Lead is by no means an active poison, although it is popularly considered to be so. It mostly affects people by being taken into the system slowly, as in the case of painters and glaziers. A newly-painted house, too, often affects those living in it.--_Symptoms produced when taken in a large dose_. There is at first a burning, pricking sensation in the throat, to which thirst, giddiness, and vomiting follow. The belly is tight, swollen, and painful; _the pain being relieved by pressure_. The bowels are mostly bound. There is great depression of strength, and a cold skin.--Treatment. Give an emetic draught (No. 1, see above) at once, and shortly afterwards a solution of Epsom salts in large quantities. A little brandy-and-water must be taken if the depression of strength is very great indeed. Milk, whites of eggs, and arrowroot are also useful. After two or three hours, cleanse the stomach and intestines well out with two tablespoonfuls of castor-oil, and treat the symptoms which follow according to the rules laid down in other parts of these articles.--_Symptoms when it is taken into the body slowly_. Headache, pain about the navel, loss of appetite and flesh, offensive breath, a blueness of the edges of the gums; the belly is tight, hard, and knotty, and the pulse slow and languid. There is also sometimes a difficulty in swallowing.--_Treatment_. Give five grains of calomel and half a grain of opium directly, in the form of a pill, and half an ounce of Epsom salts in two hours, and repeat this treatment until the bowels are well opened. Put the patient into a warm bath, and throw up a clyster of warmish water when he is in it. Fomentations of warm oil of turpentine, if they can be obtained, should be put over the whole of the belly. The great object is to open the bowels as freely and as quickly as possible. When this has been done, a grain of pure opium may be given. Arrowroot or gruel should be taken in good large quantities. The after-treatment must depend altogether upon the symptoms of each particular case. 2662. _Opium_, and its preparations, _Laudanum, &c_.--Solid opium is mostly seen in the form of rich brown flattish cakes, with little pieces of leaves sticking on them here and there, and a bitter and slightly warm taste. The most common form in which it is taken as a poison, is that of laudanum.--_Symptoms_. These consist at first in giddiness and stupor, followed by insensibility, the patient, however, being roused to consciousness by a great noise, so as to be able to answer a question, but becoming insensible again almost immediately. The pulse is now quick and small, the breathing hurried, and the skin warm and covered with perspiration. After a little time, these symptoms change; the person becomes _perfectly insensible_, the breathing slow and _snoring_, as in apoplexy, the skin cold, and the pulse slow and full. The pupil of the eye is mostly smaller than natural. On applying his nose to the patient's mouth, a person may smell the poison very distinctly.--_Treatment_. Give an emetic draught (No. 1, see above) directly, with large quantities of warm mustard-and-water, warm salt-and-water, or simple warm water. Tickle the top of the throat with a feather, or put two fingers down it to bring on vomiting, which rarely takes place of itself. Dash cold water on the head, chest, and spine, and flap these parts well with the ends of wet towels. Give strong coffee or tea. Walk the patient up and down in the open air for two or three hours; the great thing being to keep him from sleeping. Electricity is of much service. When the patient is recovering, mustard poultices should be applied to the soles of the feet and the insides of the thighs and legs. The head should be kept cool and raised. 2663. The following preparations, which are constantly given to children by their nurses and mothers, for the purpose of making them sleep, often prove fatal:--_Syrup of Poppies_, and _Godfrey's Cordial_. The author would most earnestly urge all people caring for their children's lives, never to allow any of these preparations to be given, unless ordered by a surgeon. 2664. The treatment in the case of poisoning by _Henbane_, _Hemlock_, _Nightshade_, and _Foxglove_, is much the same as that for opium. Vomiting should be brought on in all of them. 2665. _Poisonous Food_.--It sometimes happens that things which are in daily use, and mostly perfectly harmless, give rise, under certain unknown circumstances, and in certain individuals, to the symptoms of poisoning. The most common articles of food of this description are _Mussels_, _Salmon_, and certain kinds of _Cheese_ and _Bacon_. The general symptoms are thirst, weight about the stomach, difficulty of breathing, vomiting, purging, spasms, prostration of strength, and, in the case of mussels more particularly, an eruption on the body, like that of nettle-rash.--_Treatment_. Empty the stomach well with No. 1 draught and warm water, and give two tablespoonfuls of castor-oil immediately after. Let the patient take plenty of arrowroot, gruel, and the like drinks, and if there is much depression of strength, give a little warm brandy-and-water. Should symptoms of fever or inflammation follow, they must be treated as directed in the articles on other kinds of poisoning. 2666. _Mushrooms_, and similar kinds of vegetables, often produce poisonous effects. The symptoms are various, sometimes giddiness and stupor, and at others pain in and swelling of the belly, with vomiting and purging, being the leading ones. When the symptoms come on quickly after taking the poison, it is generally the head that is affected.--The treatment consists in bringing on vomiting in the usual manner, as quickly and as freely as possible. The other symptoms are to be treated on general principles; if they are those of depression, by brandy-and-water or sal-volatile; if those of inflammation, by leeches, fomentations, fever-mixtures, &c. &c. 2667. FOR CURE OF RINGWORM.--Take of subcarbonate of soda 1 drachm, which dissolve in 1/2 pint of vinegar. Wash the head every morning with soft soap, and apply the lotion night and morning. One teaspoonful of sulphur and treacle should also be given occasionally night and morning. The hair should be cut close, and round the spot it should be shaved off, and the part, night and morning, bathed with a lotion made by dissolving a drachm of white vitriol in 8 oz. of water. A small piece of either of the two subjoined ointments rubbed into the part when the lotion has dried in. No, 1.--Take of citron ointment 1 drachm; sulphur and tar ointment, of each 1/2 oz.: mix thoroughly, and apply twice a day. No. 2.--Take of simple cerate 1 oz.; creosote 1 drachm; calomel 30 grains: mix and use in the same manner as the first. Concurrent with these external remedies, the child should take an alterative powder every morning, or, if they act too much on the bowels, only every second day. The following will be found to answer all the intentions desired. 2668. Alterative Powders for Ringworm.--Take of Sulphuret of antimony, precipitated . 24 grains. Grey powder . . . . . 12 grains. Calomel . . . . . . 6 grains. Jalap powder . . . . . 36 grains. Mix carefully, and divide into 12 powders for a child from 1 to 2 years old; into 9 powders for a child from 2 to 4 years; and into 6 powders for a child from 4 to 6 years. Where the patient is older, the strength may be increased by enlarging the quantities of the drugs ordered, or by giving one and a half or two powders for one dose. The ointment is to be well washed off every morning with soap-and-water, and the part bathed with the lotion before re-applying the ointment. An imperative fact must be remembered by mother or nurse,--never to use the same comb employed for the child with ringworm, for the healthy children, or let the affected little one sleep with those free from the disease; and, for fear of any contact by hands or otherwise, to keep the child's head enveloped in a nightcap, till this eruption is completely cured. 2669. SCRATCHES.--Trifling as scratches often seem, they ought never to be neglected, but should be covered and protected, and kept clean and dry until they have completely healed. If there is the least appearance of inflammation, no time should be lost in applying a large bread-and-water poultice, or hot flannels repeatedly applied, or even leeches in good numbers may be put on at some distance from each other. 2670. FOR SHORTNESS OF BREATH, OR DIFFICULT BREATHING.--Vitriolated spirits of ether 1 oz., camphor 12 grains: make a solution, of which take a teaspoonful during the paroxysm. This is found to afford instantaneous relief in difficulty of breathing, depending on internal diseases and other causes, where the patient, from a very quick and laborious breathing, is obliged to be in an erect posture. 2671. SPRAINS.--A sprain is a stretching of the leaders or ligaments of a part through some violence, such as slipping, falling on the hands, pulling a limb, &c. &c. The most common are those of the ankle and wrist. These accidents are more serious than people generally suppose, and often more difficult to cure than a broken log or arm. The first thing to be done is to place the sprained part in the straight position, and to raise it a little as well. Some recommend the application of cold lotions at first. The editress, however, is quite convinced that warm applications are, in most cases, the best for for the first three or four days. These fomentations are to be applied in the following manner:--Dip a good-sized piece of flannel into a pail or basin full of hot water or hot poppy fomentation,--six poppy heads boiled in one quart of water for about a quarter of an hour; wring it almost dry, and apply it, as hot as the patient can bear, right round the sprained part. Then place another piece of flannel, quite dry, over it, in order that the steam and warmth may not escape. This process should be repeated as often as the patient feels that the flannel next to his skin is getting cold--the oftener the better. The bowels should be opened with a black draught, and the patient kept on low diet. If he has been a great drinker, he may be allowed to take a little beer; but it is better not to do so. A little of the cream of tartar drink, ordered in the case of burns, may be taken occasionally if there is much thirst. When the swelling and tenderness about the joint are very great, from eight to twelve leeches may be applied. When the knee is the joint affected, the greatest pain is felt at the inside, and therefore the greater quantity of the leeches should be applied to that part. When the shoulder is sprained, the arm should be kept close to the body by means of a linen roller, which is to be taken four or five times round the whole of the chest. It should also be brought two or three times underneath the elbow, in order to raise the shoulder. This is the best treatment for these accidents during the first three or four days. After that time, supposing that no unfavourable symptoms have taken place, a cold lotion, composed of a tablespoonful of sal-ammoniac to a quart of water, or vinegar-and-water, should be constantly applied. This lotion will strengthen the part, and also help in taking away any thickening that may have formed about the joint. In the course of two or three weeks, according to circumstances, the joint is to be rubbed twice a day with flannel dipped in opodeldoc, a flannel bandage rolled tightly round the joint, the pressure being greatest at the lowest part, and the patient allowed to walk about with the assistance of a crutch or stick. He should also occasionally, when sitting or lying down, quietly bend the joint backwards and forwards, to cause its natural motion to return, and to prevent stiffness from taking place. When the swelling is very great immediately after the accident has occurred, from the breaking of the blood-vessels, it is best to apply cold applications at first. If it can be procured, oil-silk may be put over the warm-fomentation flannel, instead of the dry piece of flannel. Old flannel is better than new. 2672. CURE FOR STAMMERING.--Where there is no malformation of the organs of articulation, stammering may be remedied by reading aloud with the teeth closed. This should be practised for two hours a day, for three or four months. The advocate of this simple remedy says, "I can speak with certainty of its utility." 2673. STAMMERING.--At a recent meeting of the Boston Society of Natural History, Dr. Warren stated, "A simple, easy, and effectual cure of stammering." It is, simply, at every syllable pronounced, to tap at the same time with the finger; by so doing, "the most inveterate stammerer will be surprised to find that he can pronounce quite fluently, and, by long and constant practice, he will pronounce perfectly well." 2674. SUFFOCATION, APPARENT.--Suffocation may arise from many different causes. Anything which prevents the air getting into the lungs will produce it. We shall give the principal causes, and the treatment to be followed in each case. 2675. 1. _Carbonic Acid Gas. Choke-Damp of Mines_.--This poisonous gas is met with in rooms where charcoal is burnt, and where there is not sufficient draught to allow it to escape; in coalpits, near limekilns, in breweries, and in rooms and houses where a great many people live huddled together in wretchedness and filth, and where the air in consequence becomes poisoned. This gas gives out no smell, so that we cannot know of its presence. A candle will not burn in a room which contains much of it.--_Effects_. At first there is giddiness, and a great wish to sleep; after a little time, or where there is much of it present, a person feels great weight in the head, and stupid; gets by degrees quite unable to move, and snores as if in a deep sleep. The limbs may or may not be stiff. The heat of the body remains much the same at first.--_Treatment_. Remove the person affected into the open air, and, even though it is cold weather, take off his clothes. Then lay him on his back, with his head slightly raised. Having done this, dash vinegar-and-water over the whole of the body, and rub it hard, especially the face and chest, with towels dipped in the same mixture. The hands and feet also should be rubbed with a hard brush. Apply smelling-salts to the nose, which may be tickled with a feather. Dashing cold water down the middle of the back is of great service. If the person can swallow, give him a little lemon-water, or vinegar-and-water to drink. The principal means, however, to be employed in this, as, in fact, in most cases of apparent suffocation, is what is called _artificial breathing_. This operation should be performed by three persons, and in the following manner:--The first person should put the nozzle of a common pair of bellows into one of the patient's nostrils; the second should push down, and then thrust back, that part of the throat called "Adam's apple;" and the third should first raise and then depress the chest, one hand being placed over each side of the ribs. These three actions should be performed in the following order:--First of all, the throat should be drawn down and thrust back; then the chest should be raised, and the bellows gently blown into the nostril. Directly this is done, the chest should be depressed, so as to imitate common breathing. This process should be repeated about eighteen times a minute. The mouth and the other nostril should be closed while the bellows are being blown. Persevere, if necessary, with this treatment for seven or eight hours--in fact, till absolute signs of death are visible. Many lives are lost by giving it up too quickly. When the patient becomes roused, he is to be put into a warm bed, and a little brandy-and-water, or twenty drops of sal-volatile, given cautiously now and then. This treatment is to be adopted in all cases where people are affected from breathing bad air, smells, &c. &c. 2676. 2. _Drowning_.--This is one of the most frequent causes of death by suffocation.--Treatment. Many methods have been adopted, and as some of them are not only useless, but hurtful, we will mention them here, merely in order that they may be avoided. In the first place, then, never hang a person up by his heels, as it is an error to suppose that water gets into the lungs. Hanging a person up by his heels would be quite as bad as hanging him up by his neck. It is also a mistake to suppose that rubbing the body with salt and water is of service.--_Proper Treatment_. Directly a person has been taken out of the water, he should be wiped dry and wrapped in blankets; but if these cannot be obtained, the clothes of the bystanders must be used for the purpose. His head being slightly raised, and any water, weeds, or froth that may happen to be in his mouth, having been removed, he should be carried as quickly as possible to the nearest house. He should now be put into a warm bath, about as hot as the hand can pleasantly bear, and kept there for about ten minutes, artificial breathing being had recourse to while he is in it. Having been taken out of the bath, he should be placed flat on his back, with his head slightly raised, upon a warm bed in a warm room, wiped perfectly dry, and then rubbed constantly all over the body with warm flannels. At the same time, mustard poultices should be put to the soles of the feet, the palms of the hands, and the inner surface of the thighs and legs. Warm bricks, or bottles filled with warm water, should be placed under the armpits. The nose should be tickled with a feather, and smelling-salts applied to it. This treatment should be adopted while the bath is being got ready, as well as when the body has been taken out of it. The bath is not absolutely necessary; constantly rubbing the body with flannels in a warm room having been found sufficient for resuscitation. Sir B. Brodie says that warm air is quite as good as warm water. When symptoms of returning consciousness begin to show themselves, give a little wine, brandy, or twenty drops of sal-volatile and water. In some cases it is necessary, in about twelve or twenty-four hours after the patient has revived, to bleed him, for peculiar head-symptoms which now and then occur. Bleeding, however, even in the hands of professional men themselves, should be very cautiously used--non-professional ones should never think of it. The best thing to do in these cases is to keep the head well raised, and cool with a lotion such as that recommended above for sprains; to administer an aperient draught, and to abstain from giving anything that stimulates, such as wine, brandy, sal-volatile, &c. &c. As a general rule, a person dies in three minutes and a half after he has been under water. It is difficult, however, to tell how long he has actually been _under_ it, although we may know well exactly how long he has been _in_ it. This being the case, always persevere in your attempts at resuscitation until actual signs of death have shown themselves, even for six, eight, or ten hours. Dr. Douglas, of Glasgow, resuscitated a person who had been under water for fourteen minutes, by simply rubbing the whole of his body with warm flannels, in a warm room, for eight hours and a half, at the end of which time the person began to show the _first_ symptoms of returning animation. Should the accident occur at a great distance from any house, this treatment should be adopted as closely as the circumstances will permit of. Breathing through any tube, such as a piece of card or paper rolled into the form of a pipe, will do as a substitute for the bellows. To recapitulate: Rub the body dry; take matters out of mouth; cover with blankets or clothes; slightly raise the head, and place the body in a warm bath, or on a bed in a warm room; apply smelling-salts to nose; employ artificial breathing; rub well with warm flannels; put mustard poultices to feet, hands, and insides of thighs and legs, with warm bricks or bottles to armpits. _Don't bleed_. Give wine, brandy, or sal-volatile when recovering, and _persevere till actual signs of death are seen._ 2677. Briefly to conclude what we have to say of suffocation, let us treat of _Lightning_. When a person has been struck by lightning, there is a general paleness of the whole body, with the exception of the part struck, which is often blackened, or even scorched.--_Treatment_. Same as for drowning. It is not, however, of much use; for when death takes place at all, it is generally instantaneous. 2678. CURE FOR THE TOOTHACHE.--Take a piece of sheet zinc, about the size of a sixpence, and a piece of silver, say a shilling; place them together, and hold the defective tooth between them or contiguous to them; in a few minutes the pain will be gone, as if by magic. The zinc and silver, acting as a galvanic battery, will produce on the nerves of the tooth sufficient electricity to establish a current, and consequently to relieve the pain. Or smoke a pipe of tobacco and caraway-seeds. Again-- 2679. A small piece of the pellitory root will, by the flow of saliva it causes, afford relief. Creosote, or a few drops of tincture of myrrh, or friar's balsam, on cotton, put on the tooth, will often subdue the pain. A small piece of camphor, however, retained in the mouth, is the most reliable and likely means of conquering the paroxysms of this dreaded enemy. 2680. WARTS.--Eisenberg says, in his "Advice on the Hand," that the hydrochlorate of lime is the most certain means of destroying warts; the process, however, is very slow, and demands perseverance, for, if discontinued before the proper time, no advantage is gained. The following is a simple cure:--On breaking the stalk of the crowfoot plant in two, a drop of milky juice will be observed to hang on the upper part of the stem; if this be allowed to drop on a wart, so that it be well saturated with the juice, in about three or four dressings the warts will die, and may be taken off with the fingers. They may be removed by the above means from the teats of cows, where they are sometimes very troublesome, and prevent them standing quiet to be milked. The wart touched lightly every second day with lunar caustic, or rubbed every night with blue-stone, for a few weeks, will destroy the largest wart, wherever situated. 2681. To CURE A WHITLOW.--As soon as the whitlow has risen distinctly, a pretty large piece should be snipped out, so that the watery matter may readily escape, and continue to flow out as fast as produced. A bread-and-water poultice should be put on for a few days, when the wound should be bound up lightly with some mild ointment, when a cure will be speedily completed. Constant poulticing both before and after the opening of the whitlow, is the only practice needed; but as the matter lies deep, when it is necessary to open the abscess, the incision must be made _deep_ to reach the suppuration. 2682. WOUNDS.--There are several kinds of wounds, which are called by different names, according to their appearance, or the manner in which they are produced. As, however, it would be useless, and even hurtful, to bother the reader's head with too many nice professional distinctions, we shall content ourselves with dividing wounds into three classes. 2683. 1. _Incised wounds or cuts_--those produced by a knife, or some sharp instrument. 2684. 2. _Lacerated, or torn wounds_--those produced by the claws of an animal, the bite of a dog, running quickly against some projecting blunt object, such as a nail, &c. 2685. 3. _Punctured or penetrating wounds_--those produced by anything running deeply into the flesh; such as a sword, a sharp nail, a spike, the point of a bayonet, &c. 2686. Class 1. _Incised wounds or cuts_.--The danger arising from these accidents is owing more to their position than to their extent. Thus, a cut of half an inch long, which goes through an artery, is more serious than a cut of two inches long, which is not near one. Again, a small cut on the head is more often followed by dangerous symptoms than a much larger one on the legs.--_Treatment_. If the cut is not a very large one, and no artery or vein is wounded, this is very simple. If there are any foreign substances left in the wound, they must be taken out, and the bleeding must be quite stopped before the wound is strapped up. If the bleeding is not very great, it may easily be stopped by raising the cut part, and applying rags dipped in cold water to it. All clots of blood must be carefully removed; for, if they are left behind, they prevent the wound from healing. When the bleeding has been stopped, and the wound perfectly cleaned, its two edges are to be brought closely together by thin straps of common adhesive plaster, which should remain on, if there is not great pain or heat about the part, for two or three days, without being removed. The cut part should be kept raised and cool. When the strips of plaster are to be taken off, they should first be well bathed with lukewarm water. This will cause them to come away easily, and without opening the lips of the wound; which accident is very likely to take place, if they are pulled off without having been first moistened with the warm water. If the wound is not healed when the strips of plaster are taken off, fresh ones must be applied. Great care is required in treating cuts of the head, as they are often followed by erysipelas taking place round them. They should be strapped with isinglass plaster, which is much less irritating than the ordinary adhesive plaster. Only use as many strips as are actually requisite to keep the two edges of the wound together; keep the patient quite quiet, on low diet, for a week or so, according to his symptoms. Purge him well with the No. 2 pills (five grains of blue pill mixed with the same quantity of compound extract of colocynth; make into two pills, the dose for an adult). If the patient is feverish, give him two tablespoonfuls of the fever-mixture three times a day. (The fever-mixture, we remind our readers, is thus made: Mix a drachm of powdered nitre, 2 drachms of carbonate of potash, 2 teaspoonfuls of antimonial wine, and a tablespoonful of sweet spirits of nitre in half a pint of water.) A person should be very careful of himself for a month or two after having had a bad cut on the head. His bowels should be kept constantly open, and all excitement and excess avoided. When a vein or artery is wounded, the danger is, of course, much greater. Those accidents, therefore, should always be attended to by a surgeon, if he can possibly be procured. Before he arrives, however, or in case his assistance cannot be obtained at all, the following treatment should be adopted:--Raise the cut part, and press rags dipped in cold water firmly against it. This will often be sufficient to stop the bleeding, if the divided artery or vein is not dangerous. When an artery is divided, the blood is of a bright red colour, and comes away in jets. In this case, and supposing the leg or arm to be the cut part, a handkerchief is to be tied tightly round the limb _above_ the cut; and, if possible, the two bleeding ends of the artery should each be tied with a piece of silk. If the bleeding is from a vein, the blood is much darker, and does not come away in jets. In this case, the handkerchief is to be tied _below_ the cut, and a pad of lint or linen pressed firmly against the divided ends of the vein. Let every bad cut, especially where there is much bleeding, and even although it may to all appearance have been stopped, be attended to by a surgeon, if one can by any means be obtained. 2687. Class 2. _Lacerated or torn wounds_.--There is not so much bleeding in these cases as in clean cuts, because the blood-vessels are torn across in a zigzag manner, and not divided straight across. In other respects, however, they are more serious than ordinary cuts, being often followed by inflammation, mortification, fever, and in some cases by locked-jaw. Foreign substances are also more likely to remain in them.--_Treatment_. Stop the bleeding, if there is any, in the manner directed for cuts; remove all substances that may be in the wound; keep the patient quite quiet, and on low diet--gruel, arrowroot, and the like; purge with the No. 1 pills and the No. 1 mixture. (The No. 1 pill: Mix 5 grains of calomel and the same quantity of antimonial powder, with a little bread-crumb, and make into two pills, which is the dose for an adult. The No. 1 mixture: Dissolve an ounce of Epsom salts in half a pint of senna tea. A quarter of the mixture is a dose.) If there are feverish symptoms, give two tablespoonfuls of fever-mixture (see above) every four hours. If possible, bring the two edges of the wound together, _but do not strain the parts to do this_. If they cannot be brought together, on account of a piece of flesh being taken clean out, or the raggedness of their edges, put lint dipped in cold water over the wound, and cover it with oiled silk. It will then fill up from the bottom. If the wound, after being well washed, should still contain any sand, or grit of any kind, or if it should get red and hot from inflammation, a large warm bread poultice will be the best thing to apply until it becomes quite clean, or the inflammation goes down. When the wound is a very large one, the application of warm poppy fomentations is better than that of the lint dipped in cold water. If the redness and pain about the part, and the general feverish symptoms, are great, from eight to twelve leeches are to be applied round the wound, and a warm poppy fomentation or warm bread poultice applied after they drop off. 2688. Class 3. _Punctured or penetrating wounds_.--These, for many reasons, are the most serious of all kinds of wounds.--_Treatment_. The same as that for lacerated wounds. Pus (matter) often forms at the bottom of these wounds, which should, therefore, be kept open at the top, by separating their edges every morning with a bodkin, and applying a warm bread poultice immediately afterwards. They will then, in all probability, heal up from the bottom, and any matter which may form will find its own way out into the poultice. Sometimes, however, in spite of all precautions, collections of matter (abscesses) will form at the bottom or sides of the wound. Those are to be opened with a lancet, and the matter thus let out. When matter is forming, the patient has cold shiverings, throbbing pain in the part, and flushes on the face, which come and go. A swelling of the part is also often seen. The matter in the abscesses may be felt to move backwards and forwards, when pressure is made from one side of the swelling to the other with the first and second fingers (the middle and that next the thumb) of each hand. MEDICAL MEMORANDA. 2689. ADVANTAGES OF CLEANLINESS.--Health and strength cannot be long continued unless the skin--_all_ the skin--is washed frequently with a sponge or other means. Every morning is best; after which the skin should be rubbed very well with a rough cloth. This is the most certain way of preventing cold, and a little substitute for exercise, as it brings blood to the surface, and causes it to circulate well through the fine capillary vessels. Labour produces this circulation naturally. The insensible perspiration cannot escape well if the skin is not clean, as the pores get choked up. It is said that in health about half the aliment we take passes out through the skin. 2690. THE TOMATO MEDICINAL.--To many persons there is something unpleasant, not to say offensive, in the flavour of this excellent fruit. It has, however, long been used for culinary purposes in various countries of Europe. Dr. Bennett, a professor of some celebrity, considers it an invaluable article of diet, and ascribes to it very important medicinal properties. He declares:--1. That the tomato is one of the most powerful deobstruents of the _materia medica_; and that, in all those affections of the liver and other organs where calomel is indicated, it is probably the most effective and least harmful remedial agent known in the profession. 2. That a chemical extract can be obtained from it, which will altogether supersede the use of calomel in the cure of diseases. 3. That he has successfully treated diarrhoea with this article alone. 4. That when used as an article of diet, it is almost a sovereign remedy for dyspepsia and indigestion. 2691. WARM WATER.--Warm water is preferable to cold water, as a drink, to persons who are subject to dyspeptic and bilious complaints, and it may be taken more freely than cold water, and consequently answers better as a diluent for carrying off bile, and removing obstructions in the urinary secretion, in cases of stone and gravel. When water of a temperature equal to that of the human body is used for drink, it proves considerably stimulant, and is particularly suited to dyspeptic, bilious, gouty, and chlorotic subjects. 2692. CAUTIONS IN VISITING SICK-ROOMS.--Never venture into a sick-room if you are in a violent perspiration (if circumstances require your continuance there), for the moment your body becomes cold, it is in a state likely to absorb the infection, and give you the disease. Nor visit a sick person (especially if the complaint be of a contagious nature) with _an empty stomach_; as this disposes the system more readily to receive the contagion. In attending a sick person, place yourself where the air passes from the door or window to the bed of the diseased, not betwixt the diseased person and any fire that is in the room, as the heat of the fire will draw the infectious vapour in that direction, and you would run much danger from breathing it. 2693. NECESSITY OF GOOD VENTILATION IN ROOMS LIGHTED WITH GAS.--In dwelling-houses lighted by gas, the frequent renewal of the air is of great importance. A single gas-burner will consume more oxygen, and produce more carbonic acid to deteriorate the atmosphere of a room, than six or eight candles. If, therefore, when several burners are used, no provision is made for the escape of the corrupted air and for the introduction of pure air from without, the health will necessarily suffer. LEGAL MEMORANDA. CHAPTER XLIV. 2694. Humorists tell us there is no act of our lives which can be performed without breaking through some one of the many meshes of the law by which our rights are so carefully guarded; and those learned in the law, when they do give advice without the usual fee, and in the confidence of friendship, generally say, "Pay, pay anything rather than go to law;" while those having experience in the courts of Themis have a wholesome dread of its pitfalls. There are a few exceptions, however, to this fear of the law's uncertainties; and we hear of those to whom a lawsuit is on agreeable relaxation, a gentle excitement. One of this class, when remonstrated with, retorted, that while one friend kept dogs, and another horses, he, as he had a right to do, kept a lawyer; and no one had a right to dispute his taste. We cannot pretend, in these few pages, to lay down even the principles of law, not to speak of its contrary exposition in different courts; but there are a few acts of legal import which all men--and women too--must perform; and to these acts we may be useful in giving a right direction. There is a house to be leased or purchased, servants to be engaged, a will to be made, or property settled, in all families; and much of the welfare of its members depends on these things being done in proper legal form. 2695. PURCHASING A HOUSE.--Few men will venture to purchase a freehold, or even a leasehold property, by private contract, without making themselves acquainted with the locality, and employing a solicitor to examine the titles,; but many do walk into an auction-room, and bid for a property upon the representations of the auctioneer. The conditions, whatever they are, will bind him; for by one of the legal fictions of which we have still so many, the auctioneer, who is in reality the agent for the vendor, becomes also the agent for the buyer, and by putting down the names of bidders and the biddings, he binds him to whom the lot is knocked down to the sale and the conditions,--the falling of the auctioneer's hammer is the acceptance of the offer, which completes the agreement to purchase. In any such transaction you can only look at the written or printed particulars; any verbal statement of the auctioneer, made at the time of the sale, cannot contradict them, and they are implemented by the agreement, which the auctioneer calls on the purchaser to sign after the sale. You should sign no such contract without having a duplicate of it signed by the auctioneer, and delivered to you. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to add, that no trustee or assignee can purchase property for himself included in the trust, even at auction; nor is it safe to pay the purchase money to an agent of the vendor, unless he give a written authority to the agent to receive it, besides handing over the requisite deeds and receipts. 2696. The laws of purchase and sale of property are so complicated that Lord St. Leonards devotes five chapters of his book on Property Law to the subject. The only circumstances strong enough to vitiate a purchase, which has been reduced to a written contract, is proof of fraudulent representation as to an encumbrance of which the buyer was ignorant, or a defect in title; but every circumstance which the purchaser might have learned by careful investigation, the law presumes that he did know. Thus, in buying a leasehold estate or house, all the covenants of the original lease are presumed to be known. "It is not unusual," says Lord St. Leonards, "to stipulate, in conditions of sale of leasehold property, that the production of a receipt for the last year's rent shall be accepted as proof that all the lessor's covenants were performed up to that period. Never bid for one clogged with such a condition. There are some acts against which no relief can be obtained; for example, the tenant's right to insure, or his insuring in an office or in names not authorized in the lease. And you should not rely upon the mere fact of the insurance being correct at the time of sale: there may have been a prior breach of covenant, and the landlord may not have waived his right of entry for the forfeiture." And where any doubt of this kind exists, the landlord should be appealed to. 2697. Interest on a purchase is due from the day fixed upon for completing: where it cannot be completed, the loss rests with the party with whom the delay rests; but it appears, when the delay rests with the seller, and the money is lying idle, notice of that is to be given to the seller to make him liable to the loss of interest. In law, the property belongs to the purchaser from the date of the contract; he is entitled to any benefit, and must bear any loss; the seller may suffer the insurance to drop without giving notice; and should a fire take place, the loss falls on the buyer. In agreeing to buy a house, therefore, provide at the same time for its insurance. Common fixtures pass with the house, where nothing is said about them. 2698. There are some well-recognized laws, of what may be called good-neighbourhood, which affect all properties. If you purchase a field or house, the seller retaining another field between yours and the highway, he must of necessity grant you a right of way. Where the owner of more than one house sells one of them, the purchaser is entitled to benefit by all drains leading from his house into other drains, and will be subject to all necessary drains for the adjoining houses, although there is no express reservation as to drains. Thus, if his happens to be a leading drain, other necessary drains may be opened into it. In purchasing land for building on, you should expressly reserve a right to make an opening into any sewer or watercourse on the vendor's land for drainage purposes. 2699. CONSTRUCTIONS.--Among the cautions which purchasers of houses, land, or leaseholds, should keep in view, is a not inconsiderable array of _constructive_ notices, which are equally binding with actual ones. Notice to your attorney or agent is notice to you; and when the same attorney is employed by both parties, and he is aware of an encumbrance of which you are ignorant, you are bound by it; even where the vendor is guilty of a fraud to which your agent is privy, you are responsible, and cannot be released from the consequences. 2700. THE RELATIONS OF LANDLORD AND TENANT are most important to both parties, and each should clearly understand his position. The proprietor of a house, or house and land, agrees to let it either to a tenant-at-will, a yearly tenancy, or under lease. A tenancy-at-will may be created by parol or by agreement; and as the tenant may be turned out when his landlord pleases, so he may leave when he himself thinks proper; but this kind of tenancy is extremely inconvenient to both parties. Where an annual rent is attached to the tenancy, in construction of law, a lease or agreement without limitation to any certain period is a lease from year to year, and both landlord and tenant are entitled to notice before the tenancy can be determined by the other. This notice must be given at least six months before the expiration of the current year of the tenancy, and it can only terminate at the end of any whole year from the time at which it began; so that the tenant entering into possession at Midsummer, the notice must be given to or by him, so as to terminate at the same term. When once he is in possession, he has a right to remain for a whole year; and if no notice be given at the end of the first half-year of his tenancy, he will have to remain two years, and so on for any number of years. 2701. TENANCY BY SUFFERANCE.--This is a tenancy, not very uncommon, arising out of the unwillingness of either party to take the initiative in a more decided course at the expiry of a lease or agreement. The tenant remains in possession, and continues to pay rent as before, and becomes, from sufferance, a tenant from year to year, which can only be terminated by one party or the other giving the necessary six months' notice to quit at the term corresponding with the commencement of the original tenancy. This tenancy at sufferance applies also to an under-tenant, who remains in possession and pays rent to the reversioner or head landlord. A six months' notice will be insufficient for this tenancy. A notice was given (in Right v. Darby, I.T.R. 159) to quit a house held by plaintiff as tenant from year to year, on the 17th June, 1840, requiring him "to quit the premises on the 11th October following, or such other day as his said tenancy might expire." The tenancy had commenced on the 11th October in a former year, but it was held that this was not a good notice for the year ending October 11, 1841. A tenant from year to year gave his landlord notice to quit, ending the tenancy at a time within the half-year; the landlord acquiesced at first, but afterwards refused to accept the notice. The tenant quitted the premises; the landlord entered, and even made some repairs, but it was afterwards held that the tenancy was not determined. A notice to quit must be such as the tenant may safely act on at the time of receiving it; therefore it can only be given by an agent properly authorized at the time, and cannot be made good by the landlord adopting it afterwards. An unqualified notice, given at the proper time, should conclude with "On failure whereof, I shall require you to pay me double the former rent for so long as you retain possession." 2702. LEASES.--A lease is an instrument in writing, by which one person grants to another the occupation and use of lands or tenements for a term of years for a consideration, the lessor granting the lease, and the lessee accepting it with all its conditions. A lessor may grant the lease for any term less than his own interest. A tenant for life in an estate can only grant a lease for his own life. A tenant for life, having power to grant a lease, should grant it only in the terms of the power, otherwise the lease is void, and his estate may be made to pay heavy penalties under the covenant, usually the only one onerous on the lessor, for quiet enjoyment. The proprietor of a freehold--that is, of the possession in perpetuity of lands or tenements--may grant a lease for 999 years, for 99 years, or for 3 years. In the latter case, the lease may be either verbal or in writing, no particular form and no stamps being necessary, except the usual stamp on agreements; so long as the intention of the parties is clearly expressed, and the covenants definite, and well understood by each party, the agreement is complete, and the law satisfied. In the case of settled estates, the court of Chancery is empowered to authorize leases under the 19 & 20 Vict. c. 120, and 21 & 22 Vict. c. 77, as follows:-- 21 years for agriculture or occupation. 40 years for water-power. 99 years for building-leases. 60 years for repairing-leases. 2703. A lessor may also grant an under-lease for a term less than his own: to grant the whole of his term would be an assignment. Leases are frequently burdened with a covenant not to underlet without the consent of the landlord: this is a covenant sometimes very onerous, and to be avoided, where it is possible, by a prudent lessee. 2704. A lease for any term beyond three years, whether an actual lease or an agreement for one, must be in the form of a deed; that is, it must be "under seal;" and all assignments and surrenders of leases must be in the same form, or they are _void at law_. Thus an agreement made by letter, or by a memorandum of agreement, which would be binding in most cases, would be valueless when it was for a lease, unless witnessed, and given under hand and seal. The last statute, 8 & 9 Vict. c. 106, under which these precautions became necessary, has led to serious difficulties. "The judges," says Lord St. Leonards, "feel the difficulty of holding a lease in writing, but not by deed, to be altogether void, and consequently decided, that although such a lease is void under the statute, yet it so far regulates the holding, that it creates a tenancy from year to year, terminable by half a year's notice; and if the tenure endure for the term attempted to be created by the void lease, the tenant may be evicted at the end of the term without any notice to quit." An agreement for a lease not by deed has been construed to be a lease for a term of years, and consequently void under the statute; "and yet," says Lord St. Leonards, "a court of equity has held that it may be specifically enforced as an agreement upon the terms stated." The law on this point is one of glorious uncertainty; in making any such agreement, therefore, we should be careful to express that it is an agreement, and not a lease; and that it is witnessed and under seal. 2705. AGREEMENTS.--It is usual, where the lease is a repairing one, to agree for a lease to be granted on completion of repairs according to specification. This agreement should contain the names and designation of the parties, a description of the property, and the term of the intended lease, and all the covenants which are to be inserted, as no verbal agreement can be made to a written agreement. It should also declare that the instrument is an agreement for a lease, and not the lease itself. The points to be settled in such an agreement are, the rent, term, and especially covenants for insuring and rebuilding in the event of a fire; and if it is intended that the lessor's consent is to be obtained before assigning or underleasing, a covenant to that effect is required in the agreement. In building-leases, usually granted for 99 years, the tenant is to insure the property; and even where the agreement is silent on that point, the law decides it so. It is otherwise with ordinary tenements, when the tenant pays a full, or what the law terms rack-rent; the landlord is then to insure, unless it is otherwise arranged by the agreement. 2706. It is important for lessee, and lessor, also, that the latter does not exceed his powers. A lease granted by a tenant for life before he is properly in possession, is void in law; for, although a court of equity, according to Lord St. Leonards, will, "by force of its own jurisdiction, support a _bonâ fide_ lease, granted under a power which is merely erroneous in form or ceremonies," and the 12 & 13 Vict. c. 26, and 13 & 14 Vict. c. 19, compel a new lease to be granted with the necessary variations, while the lessor has no power to compel him to accept such a lease, except when the person in remainder is competent and willing to confirm the original lease without variations, yet all these difficulties involve both delay, costs, and anxieties. 2707. In husbandry leases, a covenant to cultivate the land in a husbandlike manner, and according to the custom of the district, is always implied; but it is more usual to prescribe the course of tillage which is to be pursued. In the case of houses for occupation, the tenant would have to keep the house in a tenantable state of repair during the term, and deliver it up in like condition. This is not the case with the tenant at will, or from year to year, where the landlord has to keep the house in tenantable repair, and the tenant is only liable for waste beyond reasonable wear and tear. 2708. INSURANCE.--Every lease, or agreement for a lease, should covenant not only who is to pay insurance, but how the tenement is to be rebuilt in the event of a fire; for if the house were burnt down, and no provision made for insurance, the tenant, supposing there was the ordinary covenant to repair in the lease, would not only have to rebuild, but to pay rent while it was being rebuilt. More than this, supposing, under the same lease, the landlord had taken the precaution of insuring, he is not compelled to lay out the money recovered in rebuilding the premises. Sir John Leach lays it down, that "the tenant's situation could not be changed by a precaution, on the part of the landlord, with which he had nothing to do." This decision Lord Campbell confirmed in a more recent case, in which an action was brought against a lessee who was not bound to repair, and neither he nor the landlord bound to insure; admitting an equitable defence, the court affirmed Sir John Leach's decision, holding that the tenant was bound to pay the rent, and could not require the landlord to lay out the insurance money in rebuilding. This is opposed to the opinion of Lord St. Leonards, who admits, however, that the decision of the court must overrule his _dictum_. Such being the state of the law, it is very important that insurance should be provided for, and that the payment of rent should be made to depend upon rebuilding the house in the event of a fire. Care must be taken, however, that this is made a covenant of the lease, as well as in the agreement, otherwise the tenant must rebuild the house. 2709. The law declares that a tenant is not bound to repair damages by tempest, lightning, or other natural casualty, unless there is a special covenant to that effect in the lease; but if there is a general covenant to repair, the repair will fall upon the tenant. Lord Kenyon lays it down, in the case of a bridge destroyed by a flood, the tenant being under a general covenant to repair, that, "where a party, by his own contract, creates a duty or charge upon himself, he is bound to make it good, because he might have guarded against it in the contract." The same principle of law has been applied to a house destroyed by lightning. It is, therefore, important to have this settled in the insurance clause. 2710. Lord St. Leonards asserts that "his policies against fire are not so framed as to render the company _legally_ liable." Generally the property is inaccurately described with reference to the conditions under which you insure. They are framed by companies who, probably, are not unwilling to have a legal defence against any claim, as they intend to pay what they deem just claim without taking advantage of any technical objection, and intending to make use of their defence only against what they believe to be a fraud, although they may not be able to prove it. "But," says his lordship, "do not rely upon the moral feelings of the directors. Ascertain that your house falls strictly within the conditions. Even having the surveyor of the company to look over your house before the insurance will not save you, unless your policy is correct." This is true; but probably his lordship's legal jealousy overshoots the mark here. Assurance companies only require an honest statement of the facts, and that no concealment is practised with their surveyor; and the case of his own, which he quotes, in which a glass door led into a conservatory, rendering it, according to the view of the company, "hazardous," and consequently voiding the policy, when a fire did occur, the company paid, rather than try the question; but even after the fire they demurred, when called upon, to make the description correct and indorse on the policy the fact that the drawing-room opened through a glass door into conservatories. One of two inferences is obvious here; either his lordship has overcoloured the statement, or the company could not be the respectable one represented. The practice with all reputable offices is to survey the premises before insurance, and to describe them as they appear; but no concealment of stoves, or other dangerous accessories or inflammable goods, should be practised. This certainly binds the office so long as no change takes place; but the addition of any stove, opening, or door through a party wall, the introduction of gunpowder, saltpetre, or other inflammable articles into the premises without notice, very properly "voids the policy." The usual course is to give notice of all alterations, and have them indorse on the policy, as additions to the description of the property: there is little fear, where this is honestly done, that any company would adopt the sharp practice hinted at in Lord St. Leonards' excellent handy book. 2711. BREAKS IN THE LEASE.--Where a lease is for seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years, the option to determine it at the end of the first term is in the tenant, unless it is distinctly agreed that the option shall be mutual, according to Lord St. Leonards. 2712. NOXIOUS TRADES.--A clause is usually introduced prohibiting the carrying on of any trade in some houses, and of noxious or particular trades in others. This clause should be jealously inspected, otherwise great annoyance may be produced. It has been held that a general clause of this description prohibited a tenant from keeping a school, for which he had taken it, although a lunatic asylum and public-house have been found admissible; the keeping an asylum not being deemed a trade, which is defined as "conducted by buying and selling." It is better to have the trades, or class of trades objected to, defined in the lease. 2713. FIXTURES.--In houses held under lease, it has been the practice with landlords to lease the bare walls of the tenement only, leaving the lessee to put in the stoves, cupboards, and such other conveniences as he requires, at his own option. Those, except under particular circumstances, are the property of the lessee, and may either be sold to an incoming tenant, or removed at the end of his term. The articles which may not be removed are subject to considerable doubt, and are a fruitful source of dispute. Mr. Commissioner Fonblanque has defined as tenants' property all goods and chattels; 2ndly, all articles "slightly connected one with another, and with the freehold, but capable of being separated without materially injuring the freehold;" 3rdly, articles fixed to the freehold by nails and screws, bolts or pegs, are also tenants' goods and chattels; but when sunk in the soil, or built on it, they are integral parts of the freehold, and cannot be removed. Thus, a greenhouse or conservatory attached to the house by the tenant is not removable; but the furnace and hot-water pipes by which it is heated, may be removed or sold to the in-coming tenant. A brick flue does not come under the same category, but remains. Window-blinds, grates, stoves, coffee-mills, and, in a general sense, everything he has placed which can be removed without injury to the freehold, he may remove, if they are separated from the tenement during his term, and the place made good. It is not unusual to leave the fixtures in their place, with an undertaking from the landlord that, when again let, the in-coming tenant shall pay for them, or permit their removal. In a recent case, however, a tenant having held over beyond his term and not removed his fixtures, the landlord let the premises to a new tenant, who entered into possession, and would not allow the fixtures to be removed--it was held by the courts, on trial, that he was justified. A similar case occurred to the writer: he left his fixtures in the house, taking a letter from the landlord, undertaking that the in-coming tenant should pay for them by valuation, or permit their removal. The house was let; the landlord died. His executors, on being applied to, pleaded ignorance, as did the tenant, and on being furnished with a copy of the letter, the executors told applicant that if he was aggrieved, he knew his remedy; namely, an action at law. He thought the first loss the least, and has not altered his opinion. 2714. TAXES.--Land-tax, sewers-rate, and property-tax, are landlord's taxes; but by 30 Geo. II. c. 2, the occupier is required to pay all rates levied, and deduct from the rent such taxes as belong to the landlord. Many landlords now insert a covenant, stipulating that land-tax and sewers-rate are to be paid by the tenants, and not deducted: this does not apply to the property-tax. All other taxes and rates are payable by the occupier. 2715. WATER-RATE, of course, is paid by the tenant. The water-companies, as well as gas-companies, have the power of cutting off the supply; and most of them have also the right of distraining, in the same manner as landlords have for rent. 2716. NOTICE TO QUIT.--In the case of leasing for a term, no notice is necessary; the tenant quits, as a matter of course, at its termination; or if, by tacit consent, he remains paying rent as heretofore, he becomes a tenant at sufferance, or from year to year. Half a year's notice now becomes necessary, as we have already seen, to terminate the tenancy; except in London, and the rent is under forty shillings, when a quarter's notice is sufficient. Either of these notices may be given verbally, if it can be proved that the notice was definite, and given at the right time. Form of notice is quite immaterial, provided it is definite and clear in its purport. 2717. Tenancy for less than a year may be terminated according to the taking. Thus, when taken for three months, a three months' notice is required; when monthly, a month's notice; and when weekly, a week's notice; but weekly tenancy is changed to a quarterly tenure if the rent is allowed to stand over for three months. When taken for a definite time, as a month, a week, or a quarter, no notice is necessary on either side. 2718. DILAPIDATIONS.--At the termination of a lease, supposing he has not done so before, a landlord can, and usually does, send a surveyor to report upon the condition of the tenement, and it becomes his duty to ferret out every defect. A litigious landlord may drag the outgoing tenant into an expensive lawsuit, which he has no power to prevent. He may even compel him to pay for repairing improvements which he has effected in the tenement itself, if dilapidations exist. When the lessor covenants to do all repairs, and fails to do so, the lessee may repair, and deduct the cost from the rent. 2719. RECOVERY OF RENT.--The remedies placed in the hands of landlords are very stringent. The day after rent falls due, he may proceed to recover it, by action at law, by distress on the premises, or by action of ejectment, if the rent is half a year in arrear. Distress is the remedy usually applied, the landlord being authorized to enter the premises, seize the goods and chattels of his tenant, and sell them, on the fifth day, to reimburse himself for all arrears of rent and the charges of the distress. There are a few exceptions; but, generally, all goods found on the premises may be seized. The exceptions are--dogs, rabbits, poultry, fish, tools and implements of a man's trade actually in use, the books of a scholar, the axe of a carpenter, wearing apparel on the person, a horse at the plough, or a horse he may be riding, a watch in the pocket, loose money, deeds, writings, the cattle at a smithy forge, corn sent to a mill for grinding, cattle and goods of a guest at an inn; but, curiously enough, carriages and horses standing at livery at the same inn may be taken. Distress can only be levied in the daytime, and if made after the tender of arrears, it is illegal. If tender is made after the distress, but before it is _impounded_, the landlord must abandon the distress and bear the cost himself. Nothing of a perishable nature, which cannot be restored in the same condition--as milk, fruit, and the like, must be taken. 2720. The law does not regard a day as consisting of portions. The popular notion that a notice to quit should be served before noon is an error. Although distraint is one of the remedies, it is seldom advisable in a landlord to resort to distraining for the recovery of rent. If a tenant cannot pay his rent, the sooner he leaves the premises the better. If he be a rogue and won't pay, he will probably know that nine out of ten distresses are illegal, through the carelessness, ignorance, or extortion of the brokers who execute them. Many, if not most, of the respectable brokers will not execute distresses, and the business falls into the hands of persons whom it is by no means desirable to employ. 2721. Powers to relieve landlords of premises, by giving them legal possession, are given by 19 & 20 Vict., cap. 108, to the county courts, in cases where the rent does not exceed £50 per annum, and under the circumstances hereinafter mentioned; i.e.:-- 1. Where the term has expired, or been determined by notice to quit. 2. Where there is one half-year's rent in arrear, and _the landlord shall have right by law to enter for the nonpayment thereof_. As proof of this power is required, the importance of including such a power in the agreement for tenancy will be obvious. In the county courts the amount of rent due may be claimed, as well as the possession of the premises, in one summons. 2722. When a tenant deserts premises, leaving one half-year's rent in arrear, possession may be recovered by means of the police-court. The rent must not exceed £20 per annum, and must be at least three-fourths of the value of the premises. In cases in which the tenant has not deserted the premises, and where notice to quit has been given and has expired, the landlord must give notice to the tenant of his intended application. The annual rent in this case, also, must not exceed £20. 2723. THE I. O. U.--The law is not particular as to orthography; in fact, it distinctly refuses to recognize the existence of that delightful science. You may bring your action against Mr. Jacob Phillips, under the fanciful denomination of Jaycobb Fillipse, if you like, and the law won't care, because the law goes by ear; and, although it insists upon having everything written, things written are only supposed in law to have any meaning when read, which is, after all, a common-sense rule enough. So, instead of "I owe you," persons of a cheerful disposition, so frequently found connected with debt, used to write facetiously I. O. U., and the law approved of their so doing. An I. O. U. is nothing more than a written admission of a debt, and may run thus:-- 15th October, 1860. To Mr. W. BROWN. I. O. U. ten pounds for coals. £10. JOHN JONES. If to this you add the time of payment, as "payable in one month from this date," your I. O. U. is worthless and illegal; for it thus ceases to be a mere acknowledgment, and becomes a promissory note. Now a promissory note requires a stamp, which an I. O. U. does not. Many persons, nevertheless, stick penny stamps upon them, probably for ornamental effect, or to make them look serious and authoritative. If for the former purpose, the postage-stamp looks better than the receipt stamp upon blue paper. If you are W. Brown, and you didn't see the I. O. U. signed, and can't find anybody who knows Jones's autograph, and Jones won't pay, the I. O. U. will be of no use to you in the county court, except to make the judge laugh. He will, however, allow you to prove the consideration, and as, of course, you won't be prepared to do anything of the sort, he will, if you ask him politely, adjourn the hearing for a week, when you can produce the coalheavers who delivered the article, and thus gain a glorious victory. 2724. APPRENTICES.--By the statute 5 Eliz. cap. 4, it is enacted that, in cases of ill-usage by masters towards apprentices, or of neglect of duty by apprentices, the complaining party may apply to a justice of the peace, who may make such order as equity may require. If, for want of conformity on the part of the master, this cannot be done, then the master may be bound to appear at the next sessions. Authority is given by the act to the justices in sessions to discharge the apprentice from his indentures. They are also empowered, on proof of misbehaviour of the apprentice, to order him to be corrected or imprisoned with hard labour. 2725. HUSBAND AND WIFE.--Contrary to the vulgar opinion, second cousins, as well as first, may legally marry. When married, a husband is liable for his wife's debts contracted before marriage. A creditor desirous of suing for such a claim should proceed against both. It will, however, be sufficient if the husband be served with process, the names of both appearing therein, thus:--John Jones and Ann his wife. A married woman, if sued alone, may plead her marriage, or, as it is called in law, coverture. The husband is liable for debts of his wife contracted for necessaries while living with him. If she voluntarily leaves his protection, this liability ceases. He is also liable for any debts contracted by her with his authority. If the husband have abjured the realm, or been transported by a sentence of law, the wife is liable during his absence, as if she were a single woman, for debts contracted by her. 2726. In civil cases, a wife may now give evidence on behalf of her husband in criminal cases she can neither be a witness for or against her husband. The case of assault by him upon her forms an exception to this rule. 2727. The law does not at this day admit the ancient principle of allowing moderate correction by a husband upon the person of his wife. Although this is said to have been anciently limited to the use of "a stick not bigger than the thumb," this barbarity is now altogether exploded. He may, notwithstanding, as has been recently shown in the famous Agapemone case, keep her under restraint, to prevent her leaving him, provided this be effected without cruelty. 2728. By the Divorce and Matrimonial Causes Act, 1857, a wife deserted by her husband may apply to a magistrate, or to the petty sessions, for an order to protect her lawful earnings or property acquired by her after such desertion, from her husband and his creditors. In this case it is indispensable that such order shall, within ten days, be entered at the county court of the district within which she resides. It will be seen that the basis of an application for such an order is _desertion_. Consequently, where the parties have separated by common consent, such an order cannot be obtained, any previous cruelty or misconduct on the husband's part notwithstanding. 2729. When a husband allows his wife to invest money in her own name in a savings-bank, and he survives her, it is sometimes the rule of such establishments to compel him to take out administration in order to receive such money, although it is questionable whether such rule is legally justifiable. Widows and widowers pay no legacy-duty for property coming to them through their deceased partners. 2730. RECEIPTS for sums above £2 should now be given upon penny stamps. A bill of exchange may nevertheless be discharged by an indorsement stating that it has been paid, and this will not be liable to the stamp. A receipt is not, as commonly supposed, conclusive evidence as to a payment. It is only what the law terms _primâ facie_ evidence; that is, good until contradicted or explained. Thus, if A sends wares or merchandise to B, with a receipt, as a hint that the transaction is intended to be for ready money, and B detain the receipt without paying the cash, A will be at liberty to prove the circumstances and to recover his claim. The evidence to rebut the receipt must, however, be clear and indubitable, as, after all, written evidence is of a stronger nature than oral testimony. 2731. BOOKS OF ACCOUNT.--A tradesman's books of account cannot be received as evidence in his own behalf, unless the entries therein be proved to have been brought under the notice of, and admitted to be correct by the other party, as is commonly the case with the "pass-books" employed backwards and forwards between bakers, butchers, and the like domestic traders, and their customers. The defendant may, however, compel the tradesman to produce his books to show entries adverse to his own claim. 2732. WILLS.--The last proof of affection which we can give to those left behind, is to leave their worldly affairs in such a state as to excite neither jealousy, nor anger, nor heartrendings of any kind, at least for the immediate future. This can only be done by a just, clear, and intelligible disposal of whatever there is to leave. Without being advocates for every man being his own lawyer, it is not to be denied that the most elaborately prepared wills have been the most fruitful sources of litigation, and it has even happened that learned judges left wills behind them which could not be carried out. Except in cases where the property is in land or in leases of complicated tenure, very elaborate details are unnecessary; and we counsel no man to use words in making his will of which he does not perfectly understand the meaning and import. 2733. All men over twenty-one years of age, and of sound mind, and all unmarried women of like age and sanity, may by will bequeath their property to whom they please. Infants, that is, all persons under twenty-one years of age, and married women, except where they have an estate to their "own separate use," are incapacitated, without the concurrence of the husband; the law taking the disposal of any property they die possessed of. A person born deaf and dumb cannot make a will, unless there is evidence that he could read and comprehend its contents. A person convicted of felony cannot make a will, unless subsequently pardoned; neither can persons outlawed; but the wife of a felon transported for life may make a will, and act in all respects as if she were unmarried. A suicide may bequeath real estate, but personal property is forfeited to the crown. 2734. Except in the case of soldiers on actual service, and sailors at sea, every will must be made in writing. It must be signed by the testator, or by some other person in his presence, and at his request, and the signature must be made or acknowledged in the presence of two or more witnesses, who are required to be present at the same time, who declare by signing that the will was signed by the testator, or acknowledged in their presence, and that they signed as witnesses in testator's presence. 2735. By the act of 1852 it was enacted that no will shall be valid unless signed at the foot or end thereof by the testator, or by some person in his presence, and by his direction; but a subsequent act proceeds to say that every will shall, as far only as regards the position of the signature of the testator, or of the person signing for him, be deemed valid if the signature shall be so placed at, or after, or following, or under, or beside, or opposite to the end of the will, that it shall be apparent on the face of it that the testator intended to give it effect by such signature. Under this clause, a will of several sheets, all of which were duly signed, except the last one, has been refused probate; while, on the other hand, a similar document has been admitted to probate where the last sheet only, and none of the other sheets, was signed. In order to be perfectly formal, however, each separate sheet should be numbered, signed, and witnessed, and attested on the last sheet. This witnessing is an important act: the witnesses must subscribe it in the presence of the testator and of each other; and by their signature they testify to having witnessed the signature of the testator, he being in sound mind at the time. Wills made under any kind of coercion, or even importunity may become void, being contrary to the wishes of the testator. Fraud or imposition also renders a will void, and where two wills made by the same person happen to exist, neither of them dated, the maker of the wills is declared to have died intestate. 2736. A will may always be revoked and annulled, but only by burning or entirely destroying the writing, or by adding a codicil, or making a subsequent will duly attested; but as the alteration of a will is only a revocation to the extent of the alteration, if it is intended to revoke the original will entirely, such intention should be declared,--no merely verbal directions can revoke a written will; and the act of running the pen through the signatures, or down the page, is not sufficient to cancel it, without a written declaration to that effect signed and witnessed. 2737. A will made before marriage is revoked thereby. 2738. A codicil is a supplement or addition to a will, either explaining or altering former dispositions; it may be written on the same or separate paper, and is to be witnessed and attested in the same manner as the original document. 2739. WITNESSES.--Any persons are qualified to witness a will who can write their names; but such witness cannot be benefitted by the will. If a legacy is granted to the persons witnessing, it is void. The same rule applies to the husband or wife of a witness; a bequest made to either of these is void. 2740. FORM OF WILLS.--Form is unimportant, provided the testator's intention is clear. It should commence with his designation; that is, his name and surname, place of abode, profession, or occupation. The legatees should also be clearly described. In leaving a legacy to a married woman, if no trustees are appointed over it, and no specific directions given, "that it is for her sole and separate use, free from the control, debts, and incumbrances of her husband," the husband will be entitled to the legacy. In the same manner a legacy to an unmarried woman will vest in her husband after marriage, unless a settlement of it is made on her before marriage. 2741. In sudden emergencies a form may be useful, and the following has been considered a good one for a death-bed will, where the assistance of a solicitor could not be obtained; indeed, few solicitors can prepare a will on the spur of the moment: they require time and legal forms, which are by no means necessary, before they can act. I, A.B., of No. 10, ----, Street, in the city of ---- [gentleman, builder, or grocer, as the case may be,] being of sound mind, thus publish and declare my last will and testament. Revoking and annulling all former dispositions of my property, I give and bequeath as follows:--to my son J.B., of ----, I give and bequeath the sum of ---; to my daughter M., the wife of J., of ----, I give and bequeath the sum of ---- [if intended for her own use, add "to her sole and separate use, free from the control, debts, and incumbrances of her husband"], both in addition to any sum or sums of money or other property they have before had from me. All the remaining property I die possessed of I leave to my dear wife M. B., for her sole and separate use during her natural life, together with my house and furniture, situate at No. 10, ---- Street, aforesaid. At her death, I desire that the said house shall be sold, with all the goods and chattels therein [or, I give and bequeath the said house, with all the goods and chattels therein, to ----], and the money realized from the sale, together with that in which my said wife had a life-interest, I give and bequeath in equal moieties to my son and daughter before named. I appoint my dear friend T.S., of ----, and T.B., of ----, together with my wife M.B., as executors to this my last will and testament. Signed by A.B., this 10th day of October, 1861, in our presence, both being present together, and both having signed as witnesses, in the presence of the testator:--A.B. T.S., Witness. F.M., Witness. It is to be observed that the signature of the testator after this attestation has been signed by the witnesses, is not a compliance with the act; he must sign first. 2742. STAMP-DUTIES.--In the case of persons dying intestate, when their effects are administered to by their family, the stamp-duty is half as much more as it would have been under a will. Freehold and copyhold estates are now subject to a special impost on passing, by the Stamp Act of 1857. 2743. The legacy-duty only commences when it amounts to £20 and upwards; and where it is not directed otherwise, the duty is deducted from the legacy. 2744. You cannot compound for past absence of charity by bequeathing land or tenements, or money to purchase such, to any charitable use, by your last will and testament; but you may devise them to the British Museum, to either of the two universities of Oxford and Cambridge, to Eton, Winchester, and Westminster; and you may, if so inclined, leave it for the augmentation of Queen Anne's bounty. You may, however, order your executors to sell land and hand over the money received to any charitable institution. 2745. In making provision for a wife, state whether it is in lieu of, or in addition to, dower. 2746. If you have advanced money to any child, and taken an acknowledgment for it, or entered it in any book of account, you should declare whether any legacy left by will is in addition to such advance, or whether it is to be deducted from the legacy. 2747. A legacy left by will to any one would be cancelled by your leaving another legacy by a codicil to the same person, unless it is stated to be in addition to the former bequest. 2748. Your entire estate is chargeable with your debts, except where the real estate is settled. Let it be distinctly stated out of which property, the real or personal, they are paid, where it consists of both. 2749. Whatever is _devised_, let the intention be clearly expressed, and without any condition, if you intend it to take effect. 2750. Attestation is not necessary to a will, as the act of witnessing is all the law requires, and the will itself declares the testator to be of sound mind in his own estimation; but, wherever there are erasures or interlineations, one becomes necessary. No particular form is prescribed; but it should state that the testator either signed it himself, or that another signed it by his request, or that he acknowledged the signature to be his in their presence, both being present together, and signed as witnesses in his presence. When there are erasures, the attestation must declare that--The words interlined in the third line of page 4, and the erasure in the fifth line of page 6, having been first made. These are the acts necessary to make a properly executed will; and, being simple in themselves and easily performed, they should be strictly complied with, and always attested. 2751. A witness may, on being requested, sign for testator; and he may also sign for his fellow-witness, supposing he can only make his mark, declaring that he does so; but a husband cannot sign for his wife, either as testator or witness, nor can a wife for her husband.